Summary: Everyone said Yoongi was nothing but trouble, but you found the boy behind the smoke and smirk. What you uncovered was not danger, but someone waiting for love.
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The first time Yoongi sat across from you in the library, you thought it had to be a mistake.
He was not the type you would expect to see surrounded by books.
Black hoodie, hair falling into his eyes, fingers tapping on the table as if he was keeping rhythm to some invisible beat.
“Why are you here?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
He looked up slowly, one eyebrow raised.
“Why are you here?”
“I have work to do,” you replied, clutching your pen. “You don’t look like the type.”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” A smirk tugged at his lips.
He put on his headphones and leaned back, pretending not to care, but you caught the way his eyes flicked to you every now and then. That was the start of it, though you didn’t know at the time.
It was late the next evening when you left campus, the sky heavy with clouds. You spotted him leaning against a motorbike, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling into the air.
He caught your gaze immediately.
“You again,” he said, his tone, amused.
“You smoke too much,” you shot back, surprising yourself.
“And you talk too much.” He tilted his head.
That should have been the end, but when the rain started, he wordlessly held out his jacket.
“You’ll get soaked.”
“I’ll be fine,” you insisted.
He draped it over your shoulders anyway.
“Just take it. You look like the type who gets colds easily.”
You couldn’t help but laugh.
“So now you’re judging books by their covers?”
His smirk widened. “Touché.”
A week later, Yoongi dropped into the library again, slid a folded piece of paper across your desk, and walked away without explanation.
When you opened it, there was nothing but an address and a time.
Curiosity got the better of you. That evening, you followed it and found yourself standing on the roof of a rundown building. Yoongi was there, leaning on the railing with a speaker buzzing quietly beside him.
“You came,” he said, faint surprise in his voice.
“You invited me,” you pointed out.
He shrugged. “Most people wouldn’t.”
“Most people are scared of you,” you said gently.
“And you’re not?”
“No,” you answered simply.
For the first time, the smirk faded.
He sat down on an old blanket and gestured for you to join him.
“Then maybe you’re the only one who should be here.”
You sat side by side, watching the lights. He offered you a can of soda.
“So,” you asked, “is this your secret lair?”
His laugh was quiet, almost shy.
“Something like that. A place no one else bothers to find.”
As the night wore on, you found yourself asking questions you never thought you would.
“Why do you let everyone think you’re trouble?”
He leaned back, staring at the sky. “Easier that way. If people expect nothing good from me, they can’t be disappointed.”
“That’s lonely,” you said softly.
He looked at you then, really looked, his expression unreadable. “Why do you see through me?”
“Because I want to,” you whispered.
For a long moment he said nothing, just stared at you like he was memorising your face. Finally, he smiled faintly. “You’re going to regret that.”
“Am I?”
“Yes,” he said, leaning closer. “Because I’m not going to be able to let you go now.”
The city hummed below you, neon lights flickering in the distance. He was so close you could feel the warmth of him, the faint trace of smoke clinging to his clothes.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he murmured.
“Warn me about what?” you asked.
He kissed you before you could finish, slow and deliberate. At first he was hesitant, as if afraid to ruin the moment, but when you kissed him back, he cupped your face with a tenderness that did not match his reputation.
When you finally pulled away, you were breathless, smiling. “Some warning.”
He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “I told you, I’m trouble.”
“You’re not trouble, Yoongi,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Not for me.”
His eyes softened, and in that moment, you knew you had found the boy behind the hoodie, the one who only wanted someone to believe in him.
And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter, quiet confessions, and the glow of the city, you realised this was not the beginning of trouble at all.
Jungkook had been your fan long before he became your husband.
He still had the lightstick tucked away in the drawer by the bed, though he never admit it out loud.
The walls of his old bedroom back in Busan were probably still lined with your posters. He had watched every stage, memorised every lyric, and once, years ago, stood in line for hours to buy your album on release day.
When he tells you the story, you always laugh.
“So you’re saying I married my number-one fan?”
He grins, eyes sparkling. “Number one. No competition.”
The truth is, even now, as your husband, he’s still that wide-eyed fanboy. At your concerts, he’s the loudest one in the crowd, wearing your tour merch from head to toe.
Sometimes your fan sites even capture him cheering like crazy, phone in one hand, banner in the other.
“Don’t you think it’s a little embarrassing?” you teased once, watching a clip of him jumping up and down as you hit a high note on stage.
“Embarrassing?” He looked offended. “That’s called support. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t?”
And when he says it, you can see it in his eyes, he means it.
He isn’t just cheering for the idol on stage. He’s cheering for you, the person he fell in love with, the woman he still can’t quite believe said yes to him.
One evening, before you left for the first leg of a new world tour, Jungkook sat cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by fabric markers and plain white T-shirts.
“What are you doing?” you asked, drying your hair after a shower.
He held up a shirt that said Proud Husband in big, uneven letters. Below it, he had drawn your stage name with little stars.
You laughed so hard you had to sit down.
“You’re not actually going to wear that, are you?”
“Of course I am,” he said, deadly serious. “I’ll wear it in every city.”
“Jungkook-”
“Nope. Non-negotiable. The world needs to know.”
Your last encore finished with confetti raining down. You were sweaty, tired, your heart still racing from the crowd’s cheers, when you spotted him in the front row, holding up a glowing banner that said Marry me again.
Later, back at the hotel, you hit him with a pillow as soon as you saw him. “Really?” you laughed. “Marry me again?”
He caught the pillow easily, smirking.
“What? I was just reminding you of your good choices.”
You rolled your eyes, but when he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat still racing like he was the one who had just performed.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispered into your hair. “Always have been. Always will be.”
And in that moment, you realised it didn’t matter if he was your number-one fan or your husband.
The first time you met Jungkook, the world smelled of rain.
You had ducked into a small café to escape the drizzle, shaking water from your sleeves as you fumbled with your bag and the cup you had just bought.
The strap slipped, the cup wobbled dangerously, and before you could watch your latte hit the floor, a hand reached out and steadied it.
“Whoa- careful,” a voice said.
You looked up to find him.
Black hair damp from the rain, wide eyes that seemed just a little startled by you, and a smile tugging at his lips.
“Thanks,” you breathed, still clutching the cup. “That would’ve been a disaster.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Almost lost mine too.” He lifted his own cup as proof, grin shy but boyish.
You laughed, and for a second, the sound seemed to surprise him. He blinked, then smiled wider, like he had just won something.
That should’ve been the end, a small moment in a crowded café. But it wasn’t.
You kept seeing him.
On the bus, tucked in the corner with earphones in. At the bookstore, crouched in the art section. Even once at the park, sketching something in a notebook.
Each time, he’d glance up, startled, then smile like he couldn’t believe you were really there again.
“Are you following me?” you teased one afternoon when you spotted him in line at the bakery. He laughed, eyes crinkling.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
You started talking properly then.
His name was Jungkook, and he was an artist, though he said it quickly, almost embarrassed. You told him about your favourite books, and his eyes lit up when he admitted he loved stories too, though he usually turned them into drawings instead.
Somehow, you slipped into each other’s days as though it had always been meant.
It was outside the café again, a week later. You were about to leave when he appeared, hair messy from the wind, holding two takeaway cups.
“I guessed your order,” he said, handing you one. “I hope I’m right.”
You blinked, surprised, then smiled as you tasted it. “Perfect. You’ve been paying attention.”
He gave a half-shrug, trying to play it off, but his ears turned pink. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he spoke.
“Listen, um… I was wondering, would you maybe… like to go out with me? Not just bump-into-each-other-by-accident out. I mean, properly. A date.”
You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Is this because you’re tired of leaving it up to fate?”
He laughed nervously, tugging at his sleeve. “Kind of. I thought maybe… I should help fate out a little.”
You pretended to think, just to watch him squirm, before finally nodding. “Alright. A proper date.”
The relief on his face was so genuine it made your chest warm.
He told you to meet him at the park on Saturday evening. You weren’t sure what to expect, but when you arrived, you found him waiting near the fountain with a small picnic basket at his side.
“You made food?” you asked, pleasantly surprised.
“I, uh, tried,” he admitted, rubbing his neck. “Some of it might actually be edible.”
You laughed, and he grinned, clearly proud he made you do that. He laid out a blanket beneath a tree, and soon you were sitting across from him, sharing simple but thoughtful things he had packed, sandwiches, fruit, even little cookies shaped like stars.
“You really baked these?” you asked, holding one up.
“Don’t judge them too harshly,” he warned, biting into his own. “They’re not exactly professional.”
“They’re perfect,” you said, and his smile softened, like he didn’t quite believe you but wanted to.
As the sky turned shades of orange and pink, you talked about everything. Music, films, childhood stories. He told you about the time he tried skateboarding and nearly broke his arm. You told him about your embarrassing talent show in school. The conversation flowed so easily, like you’d known each other longer than a few weeks.
When the first stars appeared, he shifted closer, hesitant. “I, um… I’m really glad you said yes.”
You turned to him, warmth blooming in your chest. “Me too.”
He swallowed, then asked, voice low, “Can I… hold your hand?”
The question was so simple, so earnest, that you couldn’t stop smiling as you slipped your fingers into his. His grip was gentle at first, then steadier when he felt you squeeze back.
You sat like that under the stars, sharing silence as comfortably as conversation.
And when he finally leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in the softest, shyest kiss, it felt less like a beginning and more like something that had been waiting for you both all along.
Summary: Kim Taehyung had always been gentle with you, but when it came to anyone crossing a line, he was the first to step in. Protective and unashamed, he showed you again and again that your heart and safety were his to guard.
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Dating Kim Taehyung was a dream you had never thought would be real.
His laughter, his warmth, the way his deep voice softened whenever he spoke your name, it was more than you ever expected.
But Taehyung was not just sweet. He was protective, to the point that it sometimes startled you.
It showed in small ways at first. The way he guided you through crowds with a hand pressed firmly to your back, the way he always walked on the side of the pavement closest to the road, or the way his eyes scanned every café you entered together as though memorising the exits.
But it showed in bigger ways too.
One night, you were waiting backstage after one of his shows. You had been leaning quietly against the wall, scrolling through your phone, when a staff member accidentally brushed past you a little too roughly. You stumbled, startled, and before you could say anything, Taehyung was there.
“Hey,” his voice was firm, deeper than usual. He had appeared in an instant, hand slipping around your waist to steady you, his body angled between you and the staff. “Careful.”
The staff member bowed quickly, apologising, but Taehyung did not relax until they were gone. Only then did he turn to you, eyes scanning your face.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked softly.
You shook your head. “No, Tae, it was nothing. Just an accident.”
Still, he kept his arm around you, as though letting go would somehow invite danger back in. “I do not like anyone touching you like that. Even by mistake.”
You smiled gently, leaning into him. “You know you cannot protect me from the entire world.”
“Watch me,” he murmured, kissing your hair.
Later that night, back at the dorms, you teased him about it as he curled up beside you on the sofa. “You are too protective sometimes, you know that?”
Taehyung shifted, his arm pulling you closer until your head rested on his chest.
“I cannot help it. You are… mine to take care of. The thought of anyone hurting you, even a little, makes me…” He paused, searching for words. “It makes me want to stand between you and everything else.”
You looked up at him, catching the seriousness in his eyes. “Tae, I am stronger than you think. But I like it… the way you care for me.”
His lips curved into a smile, soft and a little shy. “Good. Because I do not think I could stop, even if you asked me to.”
He kissed you then, unhurried and tender, as though reminding you with every touch that you were safe, loved, and cherished.
And in that moment, you knew that being with Taehyung was not just about passion or romance, it was about knowing that no matter what happened, he would always be by your side, ready to guard your heart as fiercely as he loved it.
Because to him, you were where he belonged, and he was determined to make sure you always felt the same.
Summary: Passion and angst colour your relationship with Sehun, yet when the walls break and truths are out in the spoken, you discover that the quiet man who once drove you mad with doubt is also the one who loves you beyond measure.
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Loving Sehun was not simple.
He was quiet, difficult to read, his emotions buried under layers of composure that only occasionally cracked. When he did let the walls down, though, it was fire.
His kisses were fierce, his touch desperate, his whispered words in the dark raw with a devotion he never admitted in daylight.
But lately, the cracks had widened into distance. He came home late, distracted, his phone buzzing with calls from the company. When you asked if something was wrong, he shook his head. When you reached for his hand, he pulled away too quickly, then looked at you with guilt that only made your chest hurt more.
The argument came one rainy night.
“You never talk to me anymore,” you said, voice shaking. “You shut me out, Sehun. I do not know what you are thinking, I do not know if you even want this anymore.”
His jaw tightened. “That is not fair.”
“Then tell me what is fair,” you pressed, your heart breaking. “Because I cannot keep guessing if I still matter to you.”
The silence stretched.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, they met yours. For a moment, you thought he might walk away.
Instead, he whispered, “You matter too much.”
You blinked. “Sorry?”
Sehun ran a hand through his hair, his composure cracking at last.
“I have been scared. They want me to do more, to be more, and I thought… if I failed, if I lost everything, I would drag you down with me. I thought keeping distance would protect you.”
Tears blurred your vision. “You fool,” you whispered. “I did not fall in love with you for the easy parts. I do not want your perfection, Sehun. I want you.”
He crossed the room in two steps and pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours with a passion that left you breathless. It was anger, apology, and love all at once, his hands framing your face as if afraid you might slip away.
“I am sorry,” he murmured against your lips. “I am sorry for every moment I made you doubt me. You are everything, do you understand? Everything.”
The storm outside raged on, but in his arms, you felt only warmth. The angst, the distance, the silence, it melted under the truth you had both been too afraid to speak.
That night, tangled together, you whispered promises into the dark. Promises to talk, to stay, to love each other fiercely no matter what the world demanded.
And in the morning, when the rain had cleared and sunlight streamed through the curtains, Sehun pressed a kiss to your forehead and said softly, “This is it for me. You are it. Always.”
It was not simple. It was not perfect.
But it was love, passionate, aching, real, and it was yours to keep.
Summary: You join a variety show pairing idols and actors on pretend dates, expecting scripted fun and light-hearted laughs. But when you meet Baekhyun, you realise not everything is pretend, and not every line is for the cameras.
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You were not sure what to expect when the production team told you about your partner for the variety show *We Are Famous, Let’s Go on a Date*.
It was meant to be fun, light-hearted television where celebrities paired together for a pretend date, complete with challenges, sweet moments, and playful banter.
When the director finally said his name, your eyes widened.
Byun Baekhyun.
The cameras started rolling before you had the chance to compose yourself. He appeared from the other side of the studio set dressed simply, in a white shirt and jeans, his smile already bright enough to outshine the lights overhead.
“Hello,” he said, bowing slightly before flashing you a grin. “I am your date for the day. I hope you will take care of me.”
You bowed back, trying not to look too flustered. “I will do my best. I am not sure what kind of date partner I will be though.”
He tilted his head, eyes twinkling. “Cute already. The viewers are going to love this.”
The cameras followed as you were guided to a little decorated café corner set up to look like a date spot. Baekhyun pulled your chair out for you, the gesture exaggerated as he winked at the camera.
“Look at me, such a gentleman,” he teased.
You laughed, shaking your head. “You are trying too hard.”
“Of course I am. It is my first date with you. I have to impress you.”
The banter came easily. The show asked you to complete silly missions together, from choosing food for one another to taking selfies that would later be voted on by fans. Baekhyun leaned in far too close for one of them, pretending it was to fit in the frame, and you felt your heart stutter as his shoulder brushed yours.
When you fed him a piece of cake as part of a challenge, he pretended to swoon dramatically, clutching his chest.
“Ah, I think I am falling already,” he said, earning laughter from the staff.
“Stop it,” you said, covering your face, though your cheeks were undeniably warm.
Hours passed, filled with laughter and playful teasing. Somewhere between the staged games and scripted suggestions, the chemistry became natural. You forgot the cameras were there whenever Baekhyun’s eyes lingered a little too long or when his smile softened just for you.
Finally, the director called cut. The filming had ended.
The crew began to clear equipment, the lights dimming, the buzz of the set shifting into casual chatter.
You gathered your things, ready to leave, when a voice called behind you.
“Wait.”
Baekhyun was there, no cameras on him now, no audience to play to. His smile was smaller, more genuine, though his eyes still carried mischief.
“I had fun today,” he said simply. “Not just because of the show.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone.
“Me too. You made it… easy.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a little shy despite the confident persona he had kept all day.
“So, I was wondering… would you like to go on a real date? No cameras, no missions. Just us.”
Your breath caught. “A real date?”
“Yes.” His grin widened, though this time it was hopeful rather than teasing. “I think I owe you one. After all, I promised to impress you, did I not?”
You laughed softly, warmth blooming in your chest. “Then I suppose you had better try harder. A real date sounds nice.”
Baekhyun’s eyes lit up, and for a moment you thought he might start another one of his dramatic acts, but instead he only nodded firmly. “Good. Then it is a promise.”
And as you walked out of the studio side by side, you realised that the variety show had been only the beginning.
The real story, the real laughter and sweet moments, were waiting just beyond the cameras, in the space where only the two of you existed.
Its marble corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, lined with guards who did not speak and ministers who whispered behind their hands. You learned long ago to move quietly, to blend into the background like a shadow.
But the east wing was different.
The silence there was heavier, lonelier. It was the silence of a man who carried too much on his shoulders.
Prince Kyungsoo.
He was known across the court for his composure, for the way he kept his expression smooth and his words short.
A perfect heir, the ministers said. Dutiful. Obedient. Unshakable. But to those who served him closely, he was a man of few words and fewer smiles.
You had been assigned to him for only a month when you first saw the cracks in his armour.
It was a humid summer evening when you carried a tray of tea into his chamber. Expecting the usual dismissal, you nearly froze when you saw him not at his desk, but leaning on the balcony railing, looking out over the lantern-lit gardens.
“You may set it down,” he said, his voice quiet, almost distracted.
You obeyed. But before you could slip away, he spoke again.
“Do you ever tire of it?”
You looked up in surprise. “Of what, Your Highness?”
“This life,” he murmured, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes were steady on yours, and for the first time, you saw weariness in them. “The endless duty. The silence.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
It was not your place to answer honestly. Yet something in his gaze made you brave.
“Yes,” you whispered. “Sometimes.”
For a moment, the stern mask he always wore softened.
His lips curved into a faint, almost secret smile. “You are the first person in this palace to admit it aloud,” he said. “And I find I am grateful.”
From that night on, something changed.
He noticed you.
In small ways at first, a glance when you poured his tea, a pause before dismissing you, an incline of his head in the corridor.
But slowly, you realised his eyes followed you more often than they should.
And you noticed him, too. The tension in his shoulders after council meetings. The way he lingered at windows, as though yearning for something beyond them. The loneliness etched into the silence he carried.
One evening, you found him in the library, his hand bleeding from gripping a glass until it shattered.
You rushed to him, tearing a strip from your apron to bind the wound. He did not pull away. Instead, he watched your hands work, and when your fingers brushed his skin, his breath stopped.
Another night, you found him in the garden, dressed not as a prince but in simple robes, sitting under the willow tree. He looked up as you approached, his lips curving into the barest smile.
“This is the only place I feel like myself,” he admitted quietly. “The only place I am not a crown.”
That garden became your haven.
He asked you questions there in the dark, questions no prince should ask a maid.
What do you dream of? If you could leave these walls, where would you go?
And you answered honestly, while he listened as though your words were treasures.
When you fell ill from exhaustion, he noticed your absence.
Against all propriety, he sent his physician to you. Later, you found him waiting in the corridor, his eyes unreadable but his voice unsteady.
“Do not frighten me like that again,” he said softly. “I could not bear it.”
You realised then what had lived unspoken between you all along.
But the court was merciless.
Whispers of rebellion reached the palace, and the King demanded a swift marriage alliance. A ball was held, where noblewomen lined up to dance with the prince. You served from the shadows, heartbreaking, but across the glittering hall, his eyes found yours and lingered.
That night, he came to the garden, his steps urgent.
“I should not be here,” he whispered, his hand brushing yours. “I should not want this. But I do. More than I have ever wanted anything.”
And then, at last, he bent his head, pressing his lips to your hand, a prince’s kiss, tender and fluttering.
The King announced his betrothal days later.
The palace erupted in celebration. But Kyungsoo came to you, his face set with quiet fire.
“They may demand my obedience,” he said, his voice steady, “but they cannot take my heart. That belongs to you. And I will not betray it.”
What followed was daring, dangerous, and filled with whispers. He fought the ministers, defied his father, and risked a scandal greater than the kingdom had ever known.
But Kyungsoo was dedicated. With determination, he declared that he would not wed for alliance, but for love.
The court raged.
Yet when rebellion flared in the provinces, it was Kyungsoo who rode out to meet it, and it was you who cared for him when he returned, weary but unbroken.
The people saw not only a prince, but a man capable of passion and truth.
And so, after months of struggle, the King relented.
The bells rang out on the morning of your wedding.
The palace that had once been a prison of silence was alive with music, blossoms trailing down marble steps.
You walked the aisle in trembling disbelief, and at the altar stood Kyungsoo, his eyes soft, his smile, which was only meant for you.
When he took your hands, the world seemed to disappear.
“No crown, no council, no duty will ever weigh more than this,” he whispered, so only you could hear. “You are my choice. Always.”
And when he kissed you, it was not in secret, not in shadows, but in the light of day, before all the kingdom.
The silence of the palace was broken forever.
And at last, you lived not as a servant and a prince, but as partners, as soulmates, as husband and wife, ruling side by side in a kingdom where love had found its place.
You hadn’t been in the apartment more than three days before you noticed him.
The man next door.
Short hair, wide eyes, polite smile that never quite reached his lips.
He kept his head down when you greeted him in the hall, murmuring a soft “Hello” before slipping his keys into the lock and disappearing inside.
He seemed… careful.
Like someone who’d built a quiet life out of habit, and didn’t plan on letting anyone disturb it.
And then one day, it changed when the fire alarm went off.
It was half past midnight, you were bleary-eyed and clutching your phone as you stumbled down the stairwell with the rest of the building.
Outside, the night air was sharp and cold, and people were muttering about false alarms. You stood awkwardly near the curb, shivering in your thin pyjamas, when someone shifted beside you.
“You forgot a jacket,” a voice said softly.
You turned, and there he was, your neighbour.
Up close, he looked a little less guarded, though the lines of reserve were still there. Without waiting for an answer, he shrugged off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders.
“You’ll get sick,” he added, eyes darting to the ground.
You smiled, the hoodie warm and smelling faintly of laundry soap.
“Thank you… Kyungsoo, right?”
His gaze flickered to yours for the briefest moment before he nodded. “Yes.”
That was the first real conversation you had with him. And strangely enough, after that night, little changes began.
You’d come home to find a note on your door: Your light in the hall was flickering. I fixed it.
Another time, when you sneezed in the corridor, he turned up at your door ten minutes later with a steaming bowl of soup and an almost embarrassed expression.
Piece by piece, Kyungsoo let you into his quiet world.
And before you realised it, his presence had become the softest part of your days.
Summary: You always loved Xiumin. Ever since you got to first perform with EXO, he was just it, for you. And after he got back from his military service, it looks like you were not the only one who wanted to confess a couple things.
You just couldn’t believe that it had been two years already.
The time passed so quickly, yet it felt like eternity.
Two years without Minseok, two long years.
You had time to think. And basically that is all you did.
While you did manage to get a couple phone calls from him, it wasn’t the same.
Wasn’t the same as having him in the same room.
Minseok took you off your feet with his incredible talent. He was one of the best singers you have ever met. Then you saw him dance. It was like a completely different person.
With you, Minseok was shy and kind, reserved and polite. But when he started dancing, he transformed into one of the sexiest people. He knew how to move.
You could only envy his dance partners.
Then, after the promotions of your collaboration with EXO, you became friends with all members. That is how you and Minseok got closer. You dared to call yourself one of his closest, and you started to develop these feelings.
Of course, you knew you needed to hide them, not because of the fans, but because of him.
You didn’t want to misunderstand his kindness and expect more out of situations that just weren’t what you thought they were.
Dinners between you two were nothing but friends meeting, they were never dates. And you knew that.
For a long time you were okay with that. But your feelings got stronger and stronger you could barely handle them anymore.
Then, just when you were about to have enough of the hiding, he told you he will leave to serve his 2 years in the military.
Deep down you knew this day would come. But you never thought it would come so soon.
And then, he left.
Of course, it didn’t mean you wouldn’t be in touch, but it was never the same as having him there.
During those years you finally gained some courage. You decided that your first meeting with him, you’d confess your feelings. No more holding back, all or nothing. You decided to put your heart out on a plate for him and then he can decide what he would like to do with it.
You were prepared for the best and for the worst case scenarios.
---
And when the day finally arrived, two years of courage were gone just like that.
All you needed to see was his smile. And it was all over for you.
He arrived to your place, you wanted to have peace and quiet so you decided to invite him over once he was free from his group and family welcome parties. Of course, you went to his big welcome back party, but you didn’t have time to talk with him privately as he was very busy, but you expected that to happen.
But now, he was over at your place so you could talk finally.
“I made some coffee,” you said as you gave him the mug, the coffee he always made you, you spent months perfecting.
“Thank you.” he was sitting in your balcony, the day was perfect to be spent on the balcony so you could have the sense that you are outside.
“I wanted to talk to you.” you both said at the same time and it made you laugh a little.
“You go ahead.” you said as you took a sip from your own drink.
“O-Okay, so, I had done a lot of thinking while I was away. My friends would say maybe a bit too much. But, that’s not the point. I was thinking about you, about us. Now I know you’d say we are friends, but...I don’t think I want to be just friends any longer.” he took a deep breath and finally looked at you, you were shocked. You didn’t know what to say.
You guessed Minseok took your silence as rejection since he suddenly stood up and apologized. You knew it was now or never, because if he leaves, you will never be able to explain this to him ever again. So, without thinking much you said.
“I also wanted to tell you that I see you more than a friend.” you said probably way to quickly, but you didn’t want him to leave. Not like this, not ever.
“You-Are you serious?” he looked shocked.
“Ever since we first met, sang together, I just knew...But I was too afraid to say anything. I didn’t want to lose you, so keeping you as a friend was enough, but not anymore, Minseok. I love you, and I’m sorry it took so long to admit.”
The two of you just stared at one another. Not sure what to do.
This was what both of you wanted. To be together, and yet, you were still afraid.
If it wasn’t for him to take a step and capture your lips with his, you’d be still standing there, staring at him. If it wasn’t for him to pull you close and look into your eyes, you’d be still alone.
It’s finally spring, which meant you could finally wear lighter clothes while being out on dates with your boyfriend.
Chanyeol absolutely loves your style, taking you to places he knew you’d enjoy he would take so many pictures of you and together, it would fill his phone in a second.
Hakyeon is a great ruler, always putting his people before anything else, and they love him.
He is smart, handsome and kind.
But even a great ruler like him have dark secrets, Hakyeon had a dark mind, he was manipulative and achieved everything like that. It got to the point where he saw everyone as a chess piece. Nothing more than tools so he could get whatever he wanted.
And that is exactly how he planned on making you his wife.
