#exo ff

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 1

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 7700

Warnings/Tropes: Strong Language, There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers

Links: Part 1, Part 2

You were due for some good.

Genuinely and honestly you could feel it. You were due for something good to happen to you. So much lately had been so very bad. This kind of bad luck seemed defy all the odds. Surely, surely this impressive streak of the universe opening its big cavernous mouth and vomiting all over your head could not, absolutely should not keep going. You were due. Something good. Anything good. For the love of God, it wasn’t as if you were a bad person. It wasn’t as if you routinely bet on dog fights and stole money from the big charity jar for the sick kids next to the register. You’d never ever, not once in your life even so much as looked at a dog or a kid funny. You never raised your voice or lost your temper. You didn’t yell at service workers. You didn’t deserve the cataclysm of shit that had been flung your way and even if, okay maybe… maybe once or twice you’d told a white lie, it was only to spare someone’s feelings. Maybe you’d stolen a piece of candy from a corner store as an ignorant child. Maybe you stepped on an ant or a fly or a spider but you swear none of it had been on purpose. You weren’t a bad person, not in the way that those bad people who get punished by the universe are punished, that wasn’t you. This shit storm had to end soon. It just had to.

You had been repeating this to yourself during the entire flight. During the entire, eerily empty flight with the single flight attendant who occasionally looked up and smiled at you when you made eye contact and uttered out a sweet, “you alright, hon?” When your own smile dipped just a little too far as the turbulence grew to what you were sure had to be abnormal levels.

The plane was one of those tiny propeller planes. The kind that had a whopping nine seats total and what every creak and groan of its rusted out nuts and bolts barely holding the thing together as it fought through the high winds outside and sent shivers down your spine.

What if this was it? What if that pilot had flown this thing right smack over the Bermuda Triangle and your rotten shit ass luck sent the three of you down into a watery grave nestled up beside Amelia Earhart and her tangled barnacle covered wreckage at the bottom of the sea.

No.

No, you were due for something good.

“Is it normally this loud?” You shouted across the tiny airplane cabin but the lone flight attendant had her head turned as she peered through the open cockpit door. She didn’t hear your question and offered you no reassurances as she stood up, straightened her uniform, a tasteful pantsuit, and disappeared through the open doorway

“Fasten your seatbelt and prepare for landing, Hon,” she popped her head back out for the quick announcement and disappeared through the space again, leaving you completely alone to contemplate your own mortality and what you hoped would be a swift end. It felt impossible. You hadn’t even been able to see land from outside your window. It had been endless ocean for hours now. Maybe you wouldn’t even feel the impact. Maybe the adrenaline dump would protect your dying mind and body from the pain that came from with a water impact. Your knuckles were bright white as you gripped your armrests and you remembered that one episode of MythBusters that said the best position for a plane crash was with your body bent in two and your head tucked down between your legs.

The plane was shaking terribly. It was rattling and screeching. You were clenching down so hard on your teeth you half wondered if you might knock a few of them loose. You were praying to yourself with your eyes squeezed up tight and you wrapped your arms tightly around your thighs doing your best to hold yourself together even if this plane fell apart around you. There was a boom. You hoped you wouldn’t pee your pants but thought you might be justified if you did. The search and rescue team would understand as the collected your remains.

The roaring and trembling of this world around you creaked and moaned and swayed and eventually you could feel the change of speed deep inside your chest as everything, every groan and strain and clench came to a stop with a dramatic throwback on the landing that jostled your body and made you feel positively seasick.

The plane had stopped.

You were not dead.

“Ladies and Gent—” The pilot's voice broke through the tiny speaker over your head. You pulled your sweaty head up from your lap and looked through the still open cabin door as the man speaking paused for a moment to consider his words, “uhh…just lady, we welcome you to La Malinche Island. The temperature is a damp and balmy 89 degrees Fahrenheit and dropping as the winds pick up. Not sure what possessed you to fly to a tiny island in the Caribbean right before a hurricane hit but Barracuda Air does not want to know your business. We only care about our promise to you. Our promise of course, at Barracuda Air, with a … 0% flight cancellation rate, not counting that one incident with Jerry — be it rain or snow or sleet or hail, Barracuda Air does not care. Barracuda Air will get you there. Welcome to La Malinche. We hope you like 150 mile-per-hour winds and torrential rain.”

Hurricane? Is that was the roaring and terrifying shaking has been about? A goddamned hurricane?!

You’d checked the weather last week. There was zero mention of a hurricane. You pulled your cell phone out of your back pack and turned off airplane mode and you watched the cell service signal in the upper right hand corner spin and spin. It eventually gave up and gave you the saddest little no signal sign and you toggled airplane mode on and off again with the same terrible result.

But…but…

You were due.

“Thank you for flying Barracuda Air.” Your flight attendant was standing near the exit at the front of the plane; her voice just loud enough for you to hear it; her smile just wide enough for you to get the message.

You tried your phone one more time, this time turning the whole thing off and turning it on again while holding it up high above your head to be able to catch the signal better. You just needed a minute for it to come back on. You only needed one bar, one bar would be enough.

“Thank you for flying Barracuda Air.” This time her voice was closer. She was standing at your row now, her voice betrayed none of the urgency implied with the repetition. Her smile was still believable enough.

You looked down at the useless paperweight in your hands and outside of the window on the tarmac below, you watched the lone airport employee wheeling your checked bag away from the airplane. The wind whipped his rain jacket around his body fiercely in all directions and you swallowed down the very real sense of dread that was beginning to fill your stomach.

This was supposed to be a vacation. This was supposed to be paradise. It had been advertised as such in the brochure. The single’s retreat at the five star resort where only other eligible global singles of extremely high caliber would attend. The probably very expensive luxury retreat that was a gift from your very best friend in the entire world, Clare, who sold you on the idea that here — here you would surely find your soulmate. One that would be as delighted to meet you and you were to meet them.

Here you would be the most beautiful and captivating woman any of these sad, but not clinically; lonely, but not in a creepy way; brooding but not in a mean way; hurt and broken but not broken in some way that some sweet woman’s attention couldn’t fix — you’d be the most womanly woman any of these manly men had ever seen!

Definitely not the kind of man that still lived with an overbearing mother, but one who still loved his mother very much, but maybe lived far enough away from her that he didn’t have to listen to everything she told him anymore. Hell, maybe you’d get lucky and land a man with a dead mother. No, no, no. No need to be greedy.

But the kind of man — no, the kind of men who were very, very attractive.

They were going to be tall with clean skin and clean teeth and they’d be successful, but not too successful. They were smart, but not annoyingly so. Oh! And charming! But most importantly, they were men who would find you to be absolutely irresistible. These men were supposed to be waiting for you. They were going to be beside themselves when they got a load of you. They were going to flirt with you and call you sweetheart or darling with a southern drawl or and they would buy you drinks and feed you cheesy lines about how they’d never before seen a woman that held galaxies inside of her eyes like yours did.

“Ma’am,” a voice called to you, sharper than before, “you need to get off the plane. The airport is closing because of the storm. You can't stay here.”

You hadn’t even unbuckled your seat belt yet.

God forbid they give you a damn minute.

It was a disaster.

You quickly gathered all of your belongings. The flight attendant had pulled your carry-on bag down from the overhead bin and her smile had long since vanished as she held it out for you to take and get the hell off her plane already. You grabbed the handle, no longer grateful for her help. No longer thankful for the small bag of peanuts she’d fed you earlier or the two cans of soda she’d handed you hours ago. She was ushering you down the aisle, through the exit door, and had watched you navigate the scary stairs until you plopped your two feet right down into the cement of the tarmac belonging to the smallest airport you had ever visited in your entire life.

The wind came at you in waves. One second you were sure this whole hurricane thing had been exaggerated and the next your hair was taken and spun around your head, whipped into some sort of frenzied do as strands hit your cheeks like tiny, stinging whips. You did your best to grab ahold of it with one hand but lost your cardigan in the process. It flew a few feet and landed on the floor in a brown puddle of water beside the door with a hand-printed arrow directing you to open it for Baggage Claim.

You were an adult. You had been a responsible, self-sufficient adult for some years now. You had found yourself in situations that required you to navigate this cold cruel world by yourself before but as you reached down and picked up your sweater and watched the muck drip in slow, fat, thick drops from the once pristine knit fabric, you suddenly felt more alone than you’d ever felt in your entire life.

Behind you, far beyond this mystery puddle, the only one in this entire dry concrete hell; somewhere on that small runway you heard the Barracuda revving its engines for take off.

Maybe you weren’t due for anything good to happen in your life ever again. Maybe it was just going to be shit from now on.

Had you somehow brought all of this on yourself? Maybe it had been the bad thoughts you’d had. The ill wishes you’d genuinely hoped to fall on those who had done you dirty in your life. Your recent ex-boss, you’d hoped and prayed would face a bout of public uncontrollable diarrhea. Your ex-coworker who’d stolen work from you, lied about you and sabotaged you and who you believed led to you being fired, you hoped she would be hit by a city bus, not enough to kill her but you hoped at least three bones would be broken.

The ex boyfriend who cheated on you with your ex friend, you hoped the both of them would sail off into the sunset and be lost as sea, eaten by a whale or something scarier with suckers and sharp teeth.

And most recently, that friend of a friend, that charming, sweet, funny, and handsome man who would be absolutely perfect for you, according to Claire who set you both up — the blind date who not only stood you up, leaving you to wait for him for a whole hour at the fancy ass restaurant, but also, in some wacky attempt to tarnish your good name told all of your friends that you were in fact the one who flaked on the date. You could not imagine why he couldn’t have just come clean. Well you weren’t going to let him win. He was trying to play the victim when in fact you had been the loser who was stood up. You denied it earnestly. He maintained his lie and you both had been stuck in a bitter stalemate ever since. Any gathering of friends where he was scheduled to be there, you refused to attend. You heard through various sources that he had a similar reaction to the threat of your presence and this only fanned the flames even hotter. Any time his name was uttered in pleasant company you rolled your eyes and made snide remarks under your breath. Doh Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo. Chef Doh. Decorated and celebrated private chef, a genius with a knife and a frying pan. You wanted to vomit.

After a while the fight moved from only inside your own head to the real world. He would leave sarcastic replies to some of the things you said to your friends. Things you told them with love and respect would get a passive aggressive laughing reaction from him or some sort of contrary comment right below yours. You both evolved into taking little snips at each other in the comments of your mutual friends' social media posts and like the good friends they were, everyone of them politely ignored it.

Just, how dare he? There was nothing worse than men who lie. You hoped at the time that he would be exposed for the fake and liar that he was, although now as you wandered through this empty airport this punishment seemed not enough for your shitty mood. In this moment you hoped and prayed that he would have been the one trapped on a deserted island with a hurricane bearing down over his head. Even his name and profile picture filled you with an irrational rage. That sweet and innocent looking, fake ass motherf—

Wait.

Wait one goddamn minute.

Your forward movement abruptly stopped and you stood with your luggage in your hand on the sidewalk of an empty and deserted airport with no cell reception and no idea how to get to the hotel.

Wasn’t all this doom to my enemies wishing how you got yourself cursed by the universe? Was all of this really your own doing?

You took a step, trying to remember if the hotel was situated within walking distance of the airport. Trying to recall it was to the west or to the east or if maybe it was to the south.

This was a tiny island. Maybe it wasn’t that far. Maybe if you wandered around town someone might point you in the right direction and you wouldn’t be mugged or mudered.

You closed your eyes for a split second and smelled something crisp and funny in the air. You could feel the hairs on your arm standing on end and a feeling of panic surged through you as the first fat raindrops began to fall from the sky at the same time as an ear deafening boom sounded out over your head. It was so loud it shook the roof over your head.

You screamed and covered your head, taking several big steps back and away from the empty parking lot where the blinding flash of lightning must have struck.

There was a gross taste inside of your mouth. Your rational brain attributed it to the close lightning strike but you knew deep down what that taste really was.

It tasted like you might be about to make a deal with the devil. You shouted right out loud into the air above your head, “Doh Kyungsoo is great! I misunderstood him! He is a prime example of a man and a genuinely good person! I hope his pillow is always cold and his toast is never burnt!”

You knew it was silly. You were a silly lady.

Of course it was silly.

It wasn’t as if the skies would magically clear, the whipping winds would calm and five taxis would drive up each more eager than the last to drive you to your luxury resort for free.

You did hear something new and unexpected though. Something that had you spinning around to investigate.

There was a man standing behind you. He wore a clean crisp suit and a very wide and bright inviting smile on his face. He had cleared his throat. This respectable gentleman clearly had something to say to you.

“Yes?”

His smile widened with your acknowledgement, “Hello. My name is Mr. Chen. I’m the Concierge with Shifting Sands Resort, are you by chance Miss—” his eyebrows lifted and he extended a hand, palm up, the beginnings of your name formed on his lips.

“Oh my God, yes. I am her. She is me. Oh, thank you, thank you!”

His smile deepened and his eyes turned up into little moons on his pretty face and the relief that surged through you was complete and instantaneous.

“Might I take your bags, Miss?”

Was this man your savior? Would he have come to your rescue all along? Or was Doh Kyungsoo your karmic stabilizer?

You were loaded up and buckled in and well on your jolly way to your promised paradise of pampering and relaxation. Dare you wish for a handsome man or two desperately waiting to make your acquaintance?

Maybe you’d even settle for just one. One handsome and suave proper gentleman to spend the week with; to wine and dine with; to sweep you off your feet. Surely this entire trip wouldn’t be a complete waste. Surely you hadn’t dug yourself down that far deep yet.

Your driver had been maneuvering the big comfy van in silence up until now but you caught his kind eyes glance back at you in the rear view.

“Mr. Chen, please tell me some other people have showed up for this singles retreat.”

His eyes held on to yours for only a few seconds and his lips were pursing together in more thought than you figured was necessary.

“Ummm…” his voice trailed, “well…actually…”

His eyes drifted away from yours under the guise of watching the non existent traffic on this scenic road that, had it not started raining, might have been a beautiful drive.

You weren’t sure what kind of sacrifices the universe demanded. You wanted just one. You didn’t even ask for much, just another living breathing human male who was the complete opposite of that slimey, slandering, thought he was slicker than a bowl of shit, Doh Kyungsoo.

The car screeched to a halt and your seatbelt caught and firmly locked you into place, digging hard enough into your neck to leave a mark. The rain outside pelted the roof of the van, much harder now and Mr. Chen seemed to be breathing quite hard as he tripped the steering wheel tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Miss, are you alright? I am sorry, this road is blocked. We will need to take another way around.”

Jesus. The near kiss with death had you gripping your seat very tightly and you closed your eyes.

That…that…ass— as lovely on the inside as on the outside, Doh Kyungsoo.

That saintly and angelic man.

That accurate and symmetrical and pragmatic and punctual, Doh Kyungsoo.

You could feel yourself running out of adjectives. What is the opposite of a rat bastard?

That legitimate, law-abiding, insured, and licensed to drive, Doh—

“Ahh, what were you asking? Other guests? Yes miss, of course. The singles retreat — well, we don’t have nearly the crowd we expected but there is at least one other guest who you should find most agreeable. He is very handsome and charming. All of the other staff members are positively enraptured by him already. Especially the ladies, but I have to admit I myself felt a bit of a flutter when he caught me in those big brown eyes of his.”

It worked. It fucking worked.

Son of a bi — son of a w-wise and gentle lady probably — what the hell did you know about his mother? She raised a f-fine excuse for a son, that much you knew. A real piece of work— err — art! A piece of art. A real, honest to god, adult male human being. You really needed to get that man out of your head. You could actually feel the first real dangerous slips into madness the more his name and his profile picture danced through your head.

You closed your eyes tight and you tried your absolute best to think about someone else. Anyone else. The mystery man who you were about to meet. The tall, dark, handsome, sweet and successful man who would sweep you off your feet the moment you met him.

The alternate route to the resort was down right pleasant. It was scenic and beautiful and you looked out the window as you drove the long way around, the very deserted road that took you along the breathtaking coastline. You continued the almost ritualistic positive compliments in your head Mr. Chen was chock full of his own compliments for the handsome and admirable guest who was to be your only other companion during this week’s retreat.

You were fine with that. Even if it didn’t turn into love — by the sounds of him and based on how Mr. Chen absolutely raved, you were sure the two of you would get along quite well and maybe even become good friends once this whole thing was over.

The fancy resort was as lovely and beautiful as the brochures had promised, yet your chest felt tight with apprehension. Something was wrong. There was nobody here. Mr. Chen profusely apologized for the shortness of staff due to the incoming storm which from the sounds of the serious news reports you could hear playing on the overhead television in the empty lobby, was already wrecking a neighboring island. The huge and scary category 4 hurricane which threatened to turn into a category 5 at any moment now and who’s outer bands were already knocking trees down outside and whipping rain fiercely against the windows. This wasn’t even the real storm and the wind and sheets of water hitting the window outside sounded so scary. It even sounded as if the building itself was moaning under the pressure of the wind outside. The longer you stood in this enormous and astonishingly empty building, it was becoming more and more evident that maybe you shouldn’t be here at all. Here you stood, your presence alone putting these people in danger. You, the only insane person who stubbornly refused to accept the reality of this storm. Not only would not be the relaxing and love connecting vacation you had been preparing for, but what if something really bad happened to you here? What if you died on this island? Fuck love, fuck men, fuck that man, Doh Kyungsoo in particular — what if you actually died here?

There seemed to be some sort of serious whispered discussion taking place between Mr. Chen and two other uniformed employees of the resort.

You weren’t being checked into your room. In fact, you still had your own bag in your hand and there wasn’t some moist young whippersnapper scooping your bags up to lead you to your room so you could snack on strawberries and cream and sip on champagne.

Someone made eye contact with you. There was a small regretful smile on her face and you caught the deep chest filling breath Mr. Chen took as he looked away from your curious face. It took him a moment of looking away before he exhaled, closed his eyes briefly to collect himself and the same rueful smile took over his face when he turned to come to you, taking several large steps to return to your side, he looked up into your face and carefully began to speak to you. His voice sounded grave and serious.

“Miss, I am,” he lifted a hand and laid his palm over his chest, “extremely, terribly sorry.” His eyes were sad, his eyebrows curved his face into a grimace, “I have received some bad news. The resort will have to close. We have lost power to all of the guest rooms. The ballroom was flooded, as it was closest to the ocean. The kitchens are down. It seems we are in an emergency situation due to the storm.”

This felt like a bad dream. Maybe you had fallen asleep on the plane and when you woke up it would be a bright sunny day in paradise like you’d been promised.

“We will all need to leave. The other guests have already been moved. I’m so sorry, Miss, of course the entirety of the cost of the stay will be refunded. We are prepared to offer a free week’s stay at any of our resorts for you and a guest to use at a time of your choosing. But right now we must go. The roads are beginning to flood and we can only go to the shelter at the highest point on the island. We have to move quickly before the storm surge.”

“Storm surge?” You could feel the panic and upset building inside of you. “Sh-shelter?” You knew it was evident in your voice. “The other guests were moved?” You looked outside the window. Anyone with any sense at all knew there was very real danger happening out there.

“Other guest. Sorry, there is only the one guest. I apologize but you both will need to bunk together in the barracks. The generators should last throughout the storm. There is no other place to go.” Mr. Chen was talking but you felt dazed. You were ushered into a different vehicle and the other staff members climbed in beside you. Mr. Chen was still talking about the place where you were being taken. Something about a room full of bunks, used during some historical war between two countries that didn’t exist anymore. Something about the man, the only other single from this god forsaken Singles Retreat. He was to be your bunk-mate. He, a complete stranger, was supposed to share the very large and spacious barracks with you. There would be ample space for you to spread out, as the space was designed for armies of 20 soldiers or more, but you were not to fear because Mr. Chen and his staff would be right next door should either of you need any assistance.

The road up the hill was bumpy and hectic. This vehicle was obviously well equipped to handle the rough trip, but you still found yourself jostled around, feeling seasick with the swaying back and forth and big bumps the wheels traveled over.

You began to think you might not make it. The queasiness from the ride had you closing your eyes and trying to breathe through it. Begging and pleading that you would not be sick inside this vehicle. You took deep steadying breaths through your nose, exhaling through your mouth, willing your overly sensitive stomach to calm down. The big truck soon began to slow and eventually crawled to a stop.

“I — I need to get out,” you mumbled just under your breath, unbuckling the seat belt and pushing yourself toward the door. You reached for it and pulled the handle, kicking hard with your feet. The rain was falling hard outside and you leaned over, breathing deeply as the raindrops quickly soaked your entire head.

You couldn’t meet him yet. Not like this. Not schrodinger's man of your dreams. Not fighting nausea while looking exactly like a drowned rat as you were babied by some kind hotel worker who probably shouldn’t be getting wet in the rain like this.

The cooling effects of the rain helped to calm the nausea and you felt a hand at your shoulder a moment before the deluge of rain falling over your head stopped. Someone had placed an umbrella over you. Someone was leaning into you; the staff woman from the hotel was talking to you.

“Miss, are you alright?” She rubbed a comforting warm palm over your back between your shoulder blades in slow and careful circles. You opened your eyes, noticing first the soft swell of what had to be a baby in her belly before you looked into her concerned face. She looked to be pretty far along too. She was probably due any week now. Her name tag said Sara and she had kind eyes.

You forced your shoulders back and pushed a smile upon your face. You worked for it and did your best to straighten out the expression on your face, gripping the stick of the umbrella and angling it so it covered more of her body. You’d be damned if you gave some expecting mother pneumonia just because you’d always had an overly sensitive stomach and the Barracuda Air pretzels were sitting funny.

“I’m okay. Just got a little carsick but it’s passed now that I’m out of the car. Let’s hurry inside before we get too wet.”

Your belongings were already rushed inside the drab, depressing, tan colored cement walled building that was to be your shelter for the next week or so and you rushed inside quickly with Sara stepping inside right behind you.

There was a click of the big heavy doors and aside from the two small windows next to the door, there wasn’t much in here for natural lighting. There was a musty smell in here and a thick layer of dust over most of the surfaces.

“I really am sorry that things have ended up this way, Miss.” Sarah waved hand back and forth in front of her face, waving away some of the dust in the air. She didn’t pause for long enough for you to absolve her of any guilt related to this messed up situation before she was speaking again, this time stepping further inside the space. There was a hallway up ahead that she turned into.

“If you could follow me, I’ll show you the room with the bunks and introduce you to Mr. Doh, our other guest. We changed all of the bedding so it’s clean and the space really is quite big.”

She was walking away from you as she kept taking. You felt a strange tickle along your scalp. A raindrop rolled down the back of your head, tickling its way down inside of your hair.

Did she say Mr. Doh? That same dream-like feeling that had been haunting you ever since you’d stepped off of that airplane returned.

Sara was turning a door handle and she had both of her hands pressing on a door.

“I’m sorry, what did you say his name is?”

“I’ll introduce you,” she smiled widely and leaned her head in closer to you as she dropped her voice, “He’s not that tall but he’s so, so, so handsome. He’s funny and witty too. I’m sure you’ll get along.” She said this last part with a genuine giggle of excitement. “I am just so excited!” She squealed. The eagerness in her face had a feeling of dread building inside of your belly. That stubborn queasiness you’d felt before returned.

The room was empty. Of course it was empty. Bunk beds lined each wall and a center aisle just wide enough for a person to pass through single file separated the rows of bunks and on one of the beds, the one closest to the door sat a black travel bag. A dripping rain jacket was hung over the metal frame of the upper bunk and whoever owned these items was not around.

“Oh, he was…just here…” Sara was spinning around, reacting to a sound, the sound of a door opening and your eyes followed to catch the movement of a person, a human, a man as he emerged from what you imagine was a bathroom. His head covered with a small white towel and a tanned arm rubbed swiftly over his straight black hair. On his torso, he wore only a simple white t-shirt and the fabric was too thin. The rain shower he’d been caught in made the shirt nearly transparent.

It only took a moment.

You knew what was going on.

It took less than a second for your eyes to touch deep inside of his big round brown eyes and you knew in an instant; you knew exactly who this Mr. Doh was, this esteemed and honored guest of the Shifting Sands Resort, you knew who he was and you knew exactly what this was — this man who stood in front of you; this man who was not very tall but so, so, so, and yes she was right, so handsome — because he was very handsome; even you could admit that, of course he was.

You wouldn’t have agreed to that idiotic blind date with him in the first place if you hadn’t found him to be incredibly attractive, with his clean skin, soft as hell full lips, achingly deep brown and oh so judgemental eyes, sexy and strong back, bulging arm muscles; his goddamned smart ass comments, and annoying as shit filthy lies that he told to tarnish your reputation with at least four good friends — this man who dropped the towel slowly as his eyes looked into your own stunned ones, this was that man; the one and only, Doh Kyungsoo.

You knew exactly who he was. The rat bastard, Doh Kyungsoo and you knew exactly what this situation was.

You were dead.

You had died in that airplane; gone down in the Caribbean Sea with the rest of the Barracuda Air flight and cabin crew.

You were dead and this was hell.

If your face betrayed the shock you felt right now, Sara didn’t notice. She must not have been paying any attention to you at all. She simply giggled as she gave her sweet introduction of you, raising a hand out palm up as she called out your name and recited some lame facts about you and what kind of man you were looking for in a relationship. Facts that you’d haphazardly typed out during the registration process for this Singles Retreat from hell, she said them all with a wide smile and a small silent clap of excitement as she got the words out.

Sara recited from memory, straight from your own mindless words, “Her ideal man is someone who is funny and witty. Someone who is just the perfect height for plenty of eye contact — and of course a man smells nice and is handsome.” Her hand motioned over and around his pretty face as if she simply could not help herself.

His eyes were wide with just as much genuine surprise in them as you had in yours.

Sara continued her introductions, bringing that palm right back around in front of his chest, at an even level with the nipples you could just make out through the sheer fabric of the wet t-shirt, and she proudly declared, “this is Doh Kyungsoo. His ideal woman is someone who’s as kind as she is honest and trustworthy. She is someone with an iron stomach who isn’t afraid to try new foods and explore new adventures with him.”

You felt too stunned to move. There was no way this was really happening. You felt the room spinning and it reminded you a lot of sitting with your head down between your knees as that airplane fell out of the sky. The same feeling as bouncing around the back seat of that off road truck that brought you up this hill to this bunker out of the immediate threat of the hurricane that blasted outside and into the waiting arms of a much more agonizing threat.

Sara had finished her introductions. Neither of you moved.

He was the first to break the silence.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His question was blunt. He hadn’t bothered with appearances or with how abrupt and callous his question was, or with how full of disgust that expression on his face might appear to Sara.

He never once considered just how far down her shoulders might deflate to have the cold hard truth splashed in her face. That not only did not you check a single one of his boxes, but you might very well be the last woman on this entire earth that he might fall in love with.

That he’d rather sneak out the back door after catching a glimpse of you waiting for him, all gussied up with your cheap drug store makeup and little black dress from the clearance racks at Target — a specimen so far below his level that he couldn’t even spare you the humiliation of faking a smile all the way to dessert before ghosting you the next day; instead he’d rather leave you stranded and embarrassed. Having to foot the bill yourself for your three glasses of white wine and no entree. Having to suffer through the pitiful glances of the waitstaff as they took turns asking if you were “still waiting for someone,” all the while knowing you’d been abandoned and publicly marked as unlovable.

“Me?!” You were too blindsided for tact. Your indignation at his bluntness filled you with just as many questions as he must have had in that pretty, stupid head of his.

“Why you?”

Once the first question was out, the second came out with gusto. He balked and his eyebrows furrowed. His fist clenched around the towel he was holding. You reached down deep within your diaphragm and the words came out too loudly.

You couldn't help the anger you felt. This was supposed to be your Prince Charming. This was supposed to be paradise. You opened your mouth and you let it fly. The frustrations from the trip so far, from the sham of a blind date, from being so unethically and undeservedly fired from your job, that fucking hurricane outside that stole the 5-star resort from under your feet and plopped you down inside this musty concrete prison from the 1940s and the words came out of you as if you threw them hard right into the eye of that hurricane outside.

“Why is it you?! Why are you the Mr. Doh that she is introducing me to?!”

“Because that is my name!!” His voice level rose higher and you actually flinched at the sudden volume he used. This motherfucker. How dare he shout at you. And in front of Sara. The poor girl took two steps away from the both of you and covered her belly with both of her arms.

“Why are you yelling?!” You took a step into him and shouted right back, right into his face. You needed answers for his awful behavior. He did not retreat. You could smell the light cologne he wore from this close.

“Because you yelled at me first!!”

His clenched fist gripping the towel tight was lifted, his eyes were wide, and his voice had so much more power than yours ever could that you nearly cowered. You almost backed down and backed off. Almost. He was clearly just as stubborn as you were.

Also the words he said took only one second to sink in and your next bit of anger got caught inside of your throat, refusing to come out.

Damn. He was right. You did yell first. It was you who did it first.

You’d just been so caught up in your awful mood that seeing him standing in here, knowing that what this man already knows about you would basically ruin your chances of finding any other man here to trick into falling madly in love with you. What if he told them all about your messy life. You hadn’t bothered concealing any of your recent failures on social media. You’d obsessively scrolled through his own profiles often enough to know that not only was this man a work-a-holic, but he was a big ol’ nerd. You figured he had done the same with you since some of his recent digs at you in Claire’s comments had been about you being recently liberated from your job. You’d been in his circle for long enough to know plenty about him, you were sure he had all of the dirt on you. You stepped back and away from him. From a normal distance he didn’t smell so damned nice.

“Oh I did, didn’t I?” you said in a much more normal tone, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Your apology was as abrupt as the yelling had been, but it seemed to have a bigger effect on him. His eyes seemed to grow softer or perhaps just more confused and he blinked rapidly as his focus touched lightly around all edges of your face.

“Sara, not this one,” you pulled your eyes away from his face, not quite finding the conviction to be able to fully look away from him, but your words were at least directed away from him and onto the woman who stood three feet away from you with what you almost thought was a fully enthralled expression on her face.

“Do you have any others?”

Kyungsoo made a sound. It was a scoff mixed with a grunt. It was disgruntled. You pulled your mouth into the sweetest fake smile you could manage and directed all of that sweetness at him.

“I mean the room, of course.”

“Sara, I think I’d also like to switch to another room. This one seems to have something fundamentally wrong with it.” Kyungsoo said without taking his eyes off of your face, “it’s not for me. This place seems undeservingly high maintenance and might even have some nasty pests hidden in the walls. I bet they really come out at night.”

Sara was silent for long enough for you to actually need to look at her. When you did, you smelled trouble. Sara was smiling. It was the kind of smile you got sometimes when you found a great drama to watch and you knew that these two wacky characters were about to thoroughly ruin each other's lives before they fell in love.

Her eyes were bouncing back and forth between you and Kyungsoo and with each pass her smile only widened.

“Sara.” You said in a flat tone. You had seen enough romantic comedies to know what she was thinking. “Sara, no. Not in a million years.”

She was giggling and nodding her head now.

“There are no other rooms.” She said with a voice three octaves higher than normal and she was giggling as she said it. “This is the only room.”

“You can’t even leave because there’s a hurricane outside.” She was outright laughing.

“I have to go tell Mr. Chen everything,” she whispered to herself and she was rushing toward the door, pulling it open with all of her might and vanishing through the opening much faster than you thought a woman in her delicate condition should be allowed to move.

“Sara, I swear to god,” you shouted down the dark hallway that she disappeared down, “Sara!” But she was long gone and behind you the huffing and puffing, very put-out man was grabbing every single bit of his belongings from his bed and moving them all down to the bed at the farthest end of this enormous room, putting himself and his itty bitty towel and his sheer white t shirt with his visible nipples physically as far away from you as possible.

It was actually funny to see him throwing such an obvious fit.

“I can see your nipples through your wet t-shirt, you know.” You said it under your breath but not at all trying to not be heard.

“I’m not the only one in this room with a wet t-shirt, Princess. Between the two of us, your nipples are far more eventful than mine,” he sing-songed back, using as much sarcasm as he could manage with the pejorative he used as a nickname for you.

You gasped covering your chest with both hands — the liar. The damned liar. There was no way. But when you looked down, you could very clearly make out nearly every detail of the entire shape and outline of your breasts, even the dark circles of your nipples in the center stood out. Cold and wet with your precious cardigan long tossed in the trash can back at the airport after it got wet in the puddle and you left with only the sheer bra you stupidly decided to wear under this light pink colored shirt and the hope that maybe, maybe this was one of those countries that didn’t extradite murderers and you might get away with killing him in his sleep tonight.

Links: Part 1, Part 2

[doiefics]

work can wait for other days

pairing: baekhyun x afab!reader

prologue: what could possibly surprise baekhyun more than discovering you at work on a typical day, but well, he's a gangster

genre: gangster!baekhyun +  established relationship!au + fluff + crack

wordcount: 1,000

warnings: pregnancy + very slight violence

It was a typical Thursday, late in the morning. The commute was rather sluggish, but perhaps it was nothing compared to everyone's speed at work.

They were not to blame, for any exciting thing, no matter how small or big, was always distracting enough.

You see, the brainstorming process starts even before the work at hand is done and dusted, maybe like already drooling over that tiramisu for dessert when your plate barely has starters on it. 

For the majority of people, it was a Friday's worth of waiting, but you were just as impatient and eager—but not because it was the weekend.

As you obstinately paced up and down the waiting area, you were fairly certain that you were irking the receptionist.

However, everything came to an abrupt stop even before the train of your flawless thoughts could reach the first junction.

It was "pretty loud for a hospital." You said these things to yourself in a low voice as you joined the other human meerkats, their necks reaching as far as they could and their minds unusually interested.

Your senses lately appear to be much more perceptive. 

An array of about half a dozen black cars, quick in speed and quick to hit the breaks, creating those overwhelmingly annoying screeching sounds, were to be seen.

Accompanied by a ridiculous number of men, guns appeared like toys in whosr hands. The next thing you knew, the front glass at the hospital was shattered, and even though it was both chaotic and intimidating, you watched this without a look of worry on your face because you were used to witnessing similar happenings. 

"What is he doing over here?" You weren't concerned until now, noticing a strangely familiar face amid the towering, intimidating, strong males. 

Before he could even take off his charcoal black Ray Ban shades, more men were at the scene, dressed in suits and shining leather shoes, wrists with expensive timepieces, you see, like any of those other rich men.

"This wasn't needed, we already negotiated that with you." One of them started pleading and rubbing his hands in front of the Ray-Ban guy, but you knew him too well to be able to predict his next action. 

He sighed. Dramatically. 

"Would be a shame if some killings were to happen at a place like this." He cursed, rolling his eyes and glancing around the hospital. The receptionist, who was in the middle of making a phone call, suddenly halted the process at his gaze. He smirked.

Okay, now that was unnecessary. 

The next thing you knew, he rolled the sleeves of his fancy blue shirt as his men basically yeeted away the other ones. You were sure more drama would ensue inside the closed chambers. Cliche power scenes like those in the movies.

"You really had to be here today, idiot!" You blurted it out, quietly, but not quite for the man's ear to miss it. The man would have been furious and snarky after hearing what you blurted out, but it all vanished at the sight of you. Considering that he was in the middle of attending to business, he was equally as astonished to see you here. 

"Y/N?" He was perplexed. This was the time one could normally find you at work. 

"Don't tell me you broke your phone again." You shook your head as his hands traced to his pockets, finding nothing but a severely cracked iPhone.

He signalled his men, with a flick of his fingers to continue with whatever they were here for. His eyes shifted like those of a five-year-old who just destroyed a pricey vase with his football as he turned back to face you.

"Don't give me that look." The scary man was scared of you.

To get the two of you to a more peaceful location quickly, you grabbed hold of his wrist. If you didn't, it wouldn't be long before gossip-hungry eyes began their customary camera recordings and active involvement on online forums. Picking up what seemed like a report from one of the desks. You had waited long enough. 

"This isn't time for paperwork, why are you here?" The man was chatty as usual.

"I told you about this hospital and its trashy director last week, right? Tough time extracting my money back from him." He went on.

"I didn't want any guns involved in the first place." And he never stopped.

"Really has the balls to come and plead at my face when it has already been about-"

"Baekhyun can you not keep quiet for a second, at least?" In his habitual pout, he attempted to cram his head within the papers before you hastily closed them, overwhelmed with unfamiliar feelings.

"I just hope your children don't end up being as chatty as you are." You crossed your arms and made every effort to keep your face expressionless. 

"Family planning all of a sudden?" Baekhyun was confused, again.

"You might be a big scary gangster or something, but did someone ever tell you you're just as dumb." You laughed at his bumbling expression.

"Wait!" His mouth was hanging wide, and his eyes were sparkling from the bliss he was experiencing. He simply wanted to be sure, and he wanted to be sure so much. 

"Are we.." He stopped. "We're having a baby," As he drew his body nearer, his hands instinctively sought your stomach.

"Well, not just a baby." You raised your eyebrow. 

"We're having twins?" He was basically screaming out of sheer joy.

"We are definitely not going to be quiet, right, guys?" He said as he bent down, placing a quick peck on your tummy.

"Don't worry, Mumma, you're gonna love us either way." He winked, standing up again, this time closer to your face, resting his forehead against yours.

Yet another rackety thud was to be heard, business was being taken care of properly. Baekhyun took a quick glance at the side.

"Maybe work can wait for some other day." 

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

[exoo]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: EXO (Band) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Byun Baekhyun / Do Kyungsoo | D.O Characters: Byun Baekhyun, Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Kim Jongdae | Chen, Kim Jongin | Kai, Park Chanyeol Additional Tags: culinary school, Enemies to ?, Love won't happen here I'm sorry, Toxic Yaoi, biting kink, Smut Summary:

Baekhyun can’t stand Kyungsoo. They both attend the same prestigious culinary arts program where they bud heads constantly. It seems like the harder Baekhyun tries to push Kyungsoo away, the further he gets entangled in his web.

[wolveswithblackpearls]

Werewolf AU!Suho

A howl ripped through the air. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and your first instinct was to run. But that was a wolf’s howl, calling out to the moon. So, instead, you walked slowly towards the direction it came from, like an idiot. And you couldn’t even say that you lived a full life.  

Once again, a moodboard for the lovely @marshmallow-phd ! This time for part 5 of her “The Untamed”-series: “Charming Instruction”.

~Admin C

Original date of publishing: Feb 7th, 2019

[an-annyeoing-writer]

EXO Writers Call

I'd like to make a Masterlist with as many as possible active Tumblr EXO fanfiction writers.

Feel free to send me (or add in the comments/reblogs) any writing blogs that you know and consider worth adding!

And in the case you're a writer yourself but you're too shy to add yourself - remember that you can always send your name on anon, no one will know ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[jujitto]

bubbles // a baekhyun ff

an; reader is meant to be gender neutral! this is a collaboration with @itzanz! the story and the plot is all her idea so please go show her some love for her fics because she is the kindest person ever!

warnings: none, just fluffy asf

w/c : 0.8k

Y/N had been looking at the flowers, examining them for about 15 minutes, Baekhyun had just finished up with his laptop and was going to find y/n, he checked their room, no sign of them, the kitchen, no y/n, the living room?! No y/n, “where could they be?”Baekhyun asked himself, still looking around, he kept wandering around the house still looking for her becoming puzzled because he hasn’t found her yet. But then he decided to look in the backyard.

Baekhyun started looking around the backyard, he checked the swings, no y/n- he checked the pool, no y/n- then it hit him Baekhyun sighed “they’re probably looking at the flowers again…” he went over to the flowers and tapped them on the shoulder and didn’t get a response. Baekhyun kept tapping their shoulder, no response, he tried snapping in front of their face, nothing, he tried rubbing their shoulder calling “y/nnie, y/n? Hey y/n” but got only a small “hm?” From y/n before they went back to looking at flowers. he takes a moment to sit by her and look at the flowers wondering what she’s thinking about. y/n kept looking at the flowers periodically fixing their shirt, they were silent, which after another 20 minutes started concerning baekhyun.

He started looking around, trying to find something to get their attention, and with a tilt of his head, Baekhyun noticed something peeking out of yn's pocket. Curiosity getting the better of him, he reached over pulling out a bubble wand. “Maybe this could work?” He thought carefully opening the bubbles. Blowing the bubbles into the air, after a few minutes he smiled “wow this is fun! But I wish y/nnie was here playing with me!” He called. As the bubbles floated gracefully in the air, Baekhyun couldn't help but smile at the mesmerizing sight. He continued to blow bubbles, each one reflecting the light and creating a beautiful display, He realized it got their attention and smiled as they ran over to him, hugging him and taking him to the ground.

y/n nuzzled their head near baekhyun’s neck, he glanced over and smiled, kissing their forehead, “I love you a lot” baekhyun told them, y/n hugged baekhyun tightly giving a nonverbal I love you. After an hour, the sun had set and Baekhyun ended up concerned since they had been out there for a while. he took their hands in his and smiled pulling them up “Let’s get you warmed up, okay baby?” He said and lead them inside. Y/n slumped against the wall when they got inside and baekhyun looked at the clock, he sighed and clicked his tongue as y/n held onto the half wall.

Wrapping his arms around his somewhat asleep lover, Baekhyun guided them to the bathroom. He gently nudged y/n to sit on the edge of the bathtub, making sure they were comfortable. He grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, carefully applying some toothpaste to the brush. Y/n, still a bit sleepy, let Baekhyun guide their hand as both of them brushed y/n’s teeth together. His presence and care made them feel safe and cherished. After they finished, Baekhyun turned on the tap to wash the brush. He then cupped some water in his hands and brought it to y/n's mouth, helping them rinse. After brushing their teeth, Baekhyun helped them do their nighttime skincare routine and smiled

“They’re so cute half asleep” baekhyun said to himself and picked them up, carrying them to their shared bedroom. As he carefully laid they down on the bed, he couldn't help but feel bad that he laid them down in bed without changing their clothes. Baekhyun rummaged through the closet to find some comfortable clothes for Y/n to change into. He grabbed a soft oversized sweater and a pair of sweatpants, wanting to make sure they felt cozy and warm. Baekhyun smiled tenderly as he returned to the bedside with the cozy clothes. Gently waking Y/n up, he murmured, "Hey, love, let's change into something more comfortable before you go to sleep." Y/n groggily nodded, still half-asleep, and allowed Baekhyun to help them change into the soft sweater and sweatpants. While he was changing them he chuckled “y/nnie you are like a limp noodle when you’re sleepy” y/n didn’t reply.

Once Y/n was all snug in the warm attire, Baekhyun tucked them under the covers and sat beside them, running his fingers through their hair while the other hand rubbed their back soothingly. "Feeling better now?" he asked softly, concern evident in his voice. Y/n nodded sleepily, a small smile playing on their lips. “Good” he said smiling, he kept rubbing their back until he was confident they were fully asleep.

He then got into bed next to them, adjusted himself and pulled y/n close. “Sweet dreams baby” he whispered before drifting off himself

[htauwu]

Abt me !

– call me r !

– black !

– 21 !

– infp-t !

– ults exo, nct, shinee, and riize !

– any pronouns are welcome !

– mainly dark content !

– will write soft or cute fics ! just ask ^-^

Masterlist here ! nct content here !

[bbhfanfics]

Baekhyun Fanfics (aff)

GIF CREDIT Links in Green - Completed fanfics.

Links in Red - Incomplete/Not updated for a long time.

Links in Blue - Ongoing fanfics with regular updates.

Links in Pink - Ongoing fanfics with irregular updates.

Baekismet || Amorous Designs || Sleeping into Darkness || The Third Bride || His Plus-One Dilemma || Resonant || Ephemeral || 56% || Flirt 'n Flair || Straight To Hell || Distant Torment || There's Magic in You || Light Years || Finding Atlantis || Weeping Monsters || Crescendo || Bride of the Virtuous || Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea || The Color Red || R U Ridin'? || all the time in the world || Transit of Venus || Young & Clockwork (Sequel) || Between Day and Night || here's a fact, hating someone is exhausting || Blooming Day || Just one night || Meet Me At Sundown || CARUSO || Message in a Bottle || Nothing like us || Redamancy || Privacy || Mess We Made || Irreplaceable || 7 || Mellifluous || The Melody of His Heart || Touch It For Real || Scribble on my Skin || Strawberry Champagne on Ice || Feel it || Unloving Byun Baekhyun || Love & Other Scars || Half A Page ||

Last Updated On - 5th May, 2025

[wonkibrainrot]

boycotted so hard I don’t know any of their news songs past Love 119, (plus Hug(?)). RIIZE is 7.

[crooked-haven]

Reacquainted | 18+

➭ Pairing: 'Dom' Kim Namjoon x 'Sub' (F) Reader

➭ Rating/Genre: Smut 18+, Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

➭ Warnings/Tags: Soft dom Joon, P in v, french kissing, teasing, male on female, woman anatomy, male anatomy, fingering, rough, unprotected sex (wrap it up), oral (both receiving), cum eating, foreplay, creampie, over-stimulation, soft love making, married

Y/N/N = Your/Nick/Name

➭ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are purely coincidental. Also this is my story so please don’t steal!

➭ By: Crooked-haven

Word Count: 2.6k

-Author’s POV-

You run to the door and rip it open, without a second thought you jump into the mans arms.

“Joon!!” You squeal in happiness.

It’s been 20 months since you last seen him, felt him, kissed him. He was out serving his country and you couldn’t be more proud of him.

However, your body ached without him, and before you both could even get into the door he spoke in a low tone.

"So you think we should get...reacquainted?" Namjoon murmured against the shell of your ear.

“Aren't you exhausted from all the driving?"

“I'm never too tired for you, baby”

You turned around to face him, leaning into his strong body.

"I think you should take me to bed then, Mr. Kim”

"It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Kim”

Namjoon slipped his arms under your round bottom, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He held you closely as he carried you towards your shared bedroom.

As he made his way to your room, you spent every second pressing kisses to his face sweetly, tangling your fingers in his short hair.

"You better stop that or I might take you right here on the table” he growled lowly.

"It's not like we haven't before” you giggled.

Namjoon groaned. "I don't wanna scar anyone for life, otherwise, l'd have you on every surface in this damn house”

"Maybe later then” you murmured as you kissed his neck affectionately.

Namjoon moved more quickly, the need to get you into his bed becoming overwhelming. As soon as he made it into the bedroom, he kicked the door closed, pressing you against it as he attached his lips to yours hungrily.

You gasped slightly before returning his passionate kiss. You tugged on his jacket, silently begging him to remove it.

He pulled away just long enough to rip his jacket off before kissing you again.

His strong hands slid up under your shirt, moving upwards to tug it off over your head.

His lithe fingers unsnapped your bra with practiced ease and pulled it forward to reveal the swell of your breasts.

"I've missed these” he murmured, lips immediately finding their home between the valley of your breasts. He took his time nipping and sucking at each one, playing with your nipples just the way you liked.

Your fingers dug into his scalp as you held him close to you, reveling in the feeling of his lips on your body. Your core pulsed with aching need, but you ignored it as best you could. You didn't want to rush him...not after all this time apart.

Namjoon loved how soft you felt against his toned form, he couldn't describe how much he'd missed touching you so intimately.

This wasn't the first time the two of you had been torn apart from each other, but it had been the toughest time for him.

He felt your soft hands clutching at his shirt, desperate to remove it. Namjoon smirked against your skin before turning around and tossing you onto the bed.

He tugged his shirt off over his head and threw it across the room, giving you a clear view of his impressive torso.

He started to climb onto the bed, but you stopped him. "Pants too, please”

He chuckled. "Impatient, are we?"

You shook your head. "I just want to see your perfect body on display, just for me”

He raised his eyebrows, but did as you asked, removing his pants slowly, eyes locked on yours.

You could see his hard member straining against his boxers, practically begging to be touched. You crawled across the bed, coming closer to him, eyes trained on your target.

"Whatcha doing baby?"

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, tongue darting out to dampen your lips. "I wanna taste you”

Namjoon exhaled sharply, but there was no way he was going to say no to your request. He watched as you rolled over onto your back, head hanging off the edge of the bed.

His breath caught in his chest as he realized your intentions. "You sure?" he whispered.

You grinned cheekily. "Come on pretty boy, use me”

“Fuck” he muttered under his breath, quickly ridding himself of his last article of clothing.

He gripped his large cock tightly in his right hand and stepped forward. He tapped against your mouth gently. "Open wide, sweetheart."

You happily obliged, mouth opening as wide as you could to accommodate his size. He slid slowly into your warm, wet mouth, groaning softly at the feeling.

You made a little noise of pleasure, wrapping your hands around his muscular thighs to get more comfortable and pull him even closer to you.

Namjoon’s motions started out slow, but he quickly lost himself in the feeling of you, listening to the delicious sounds you were making.

Within moments, he'd begun fucking your face properly, obscene sounds escaping his lips.

"Fuck, that's it baby. S-so good for me”

You moaned happily, fingers digging into his skin as you continued to take him deep in your throat.

He leaned forward to grab at your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples as he thrust, which only increased your enjoyment.

Namjoon felt his orgasm quickly approaching, but he wasn't ready to cum just yet. He eased his cock out of your mouth and took a step back, chuckling softly at your whine.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm nowhere near done”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your messy lips before rising back up to his full height. "Get comfortable, sweetheart, it's my turn”

You quickly rotated your body so your head rested comfortably on the pillows at the head of the bed.

Namjoon wasted no time joining you on the bed, quickly unsnapping your jeans before pulling them off along with your panties.

He wedged himself between your legs, lowering himself to lie flat on the bed. He inhaled deeply, face mere inches from your aching pussy.

"You smell delicious, baby, I can't wait to taste you”

Namjoon’s tongue slipped out of his mouth, running a thick stripe up your pussy before sliding between your lips to begin his assault.

Your hips shot off the bed, causing him to lay his arm across your abdomen to hold you in place.

He didn't want you to be able to squirm away while he gave you as much pleasure as he could.

Your fingers entwined in his hair as he ate you out like it was the last thing he'd ever do. It felt so incredibly good and your moans of pleasure spurred him on.

“N-feels s-so good”

He moaned into your core, the vibrations making you cry out in pleasure. He sped up his ministrations, years of practice with you making him an expert on your body.

“So close” you whimpered.

Namjoon slipped two fingers inside of you, curling them to press against your g-spot rapidly.

Within moments, your orgasm crashed into you with violent intensity, hips jacking off the bed despite Namjoon’s attempts to hold you in place.

He kept up with your movements, not stopping until you pulled him up by his hair.

He licked his lips with a smirk, enjoying the lingering taste of you. His normally shiny brown eyes were dark with arousal as he looked at your blissed out face.

He hovered over you, eyes scanning your face as if to memorize every inch of it, before leaning down to kiss you deeply.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. You loved the feeling of his strong body against yours, enjoying the warmth emanating from his heated skin.

"I need you, Y/N/N" he whispered against your lips. "Please"

"I wanna feel you inside me, Joon make me forget my own name”

He growled lowly. "I can do that for you, baby only thing you'll be able to say is my name”

You moaned softly, lifting your hips to press against his, earning a sharp inhale from his lips. He slipped his cock in between your folds, entering you completely with one harsh thrust.

You cried out at the feeling of fullness, slight pain mixing with the pleasure. No matter how many times you'd made love to this man, he never failed to make you feel incredible.

Every time was like the first time in the first few moments, before quickly morphing into an unforgettable experience with someone who knew your body better than you did.

"Move baby, please" you begged.

He always waited for a few moments, never wanting to cause you any undue pain, but as soon as those words left your mouth, he began to thrust into you in earnest.

"Shit, sweetheart, I missed this sweet little pussy. Squeezing me so good, feels like heaven”

"Harder, Joon, please”

Namjoon shifted his body to give you what you needed, thrusts now deeper and faster than before. His fingers dug into your hips so tightly that bruises were sure to appear.

Your moans reverberated throughout the room, spurring him on. His own noises were absolutely sinful and you loved hearing them.

Your nails dug into his muscular back, trying desperately to ground yourself in the sea of pleasure.

You felt your orgasm approaching and you voiced as much to Namjoon, who was already well aware.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock”

You whimpered, clinging to him tightly as he continued his measured thrusts.

"Joon…”

"I've got you, gorgeous. Let go for me”

You cried out in pleasure as your second orgasm washed over you, body shaking beneath his, waves of pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Namjoon worked you through your high, waiting until your body stopped shaking before gently rolling you onto your stomach.

You tried to lift your hips to accommodate him, but he gently pressed you back down into the mattress.

"I've got this baby girl, just get comfortable”

He slid into you, laying his body on top of you, covering you like a heated blanket. The angle of his thrusts instantly sent you spiraling, your body trembling beneath him.

"Fuck, sweetie, how is this pussy still so fucking tight?" he growled in your ear.

You were clenching him tightly, intense pleasure slamming into your core with each thrust he made. You could hardly breathe, the pleasure already so blinding.

"You're close again, aren't you? I can feel it, baby” He murmured against your neck.

You couldn't do anything other than moan and whine as he fucked you deeper into the mattress. He was right, you were on the brink of another blinding orgasm.

"I wanna fill this sweet pussy up, baby, but I can't do that until you cum for me"

You whimpered softly, Namjoon’s thrusts continuing.

"Tell me what you need, sweetie”

"Don't stop-" you gasped.

He continued his motions, not changing a single thing. He knew you were close, all you needed was a little push.

His lips were so close to your shoulder, brushing softly against your skin. On a particularly hard thrust, he bit into your shoulder blade, drawing a scream of pleasure from your throat as you came around him.

He slowed his motions, not quite ready to cum, but not wanting to stop. He kissed the bite mark gently, making sure you felt his love for you in each kiss.

When you'd come down from your high, Namjoon eased you onto your back, cock still buried deep inside you. He began slow, gentle thrusts, waiting for you to refocus on him.

After several moments, your eyes finally met his and he smiled warmly. "There you are”

"Joon..." you whispered, in a quiet whimper.

"I'm right here, baby”

"I want you to fill me up” you begged softly.

He groaned. "You keep squeezing me and looking at me like that and I'm a goner”

You gave him a weak smile and clenched your pussy as tightly as you could. He gasped softly, hips stuttering slightly.

"Cum for me, Joon please”

"I’m gonna f-fill you up, baby...s-so close”

You wrapped your weak legs around him, holding him against you. You placed a gentle palm against his cheek, forcing him to continue looking at your loving expression.

His thrusts had become sloppy and his breathing labored. A few more thrusts and he exploded inside of you, cries of pleasure leaving his lips as he filled you up.

His spend leaked out of you as his thrusts began to slow to a halt, lips pressing into your sweaty skin in gentle kisses.

"I love you” he whispered repeatedly.

"So, so much”

Finally, Namjoon collapsed on top of you, softening member still inside of you. The two of you laid like that for several minutes, entangled together comfortably.

You held him tightly, almost afraid to let go.

He slowly began to lift himself off of you, leaving you cold and empty. You whimpered softly, reaching for him as he got off the bed.

He turned to you and smiled. "I'm coming right back, baby. I promise”

He moved slowly towards the sink in the corner of the room before returning with a warm, wet washcloth to clean your mixed cum from between your legs.

Each touch made you shiver, but his gentle voice grounded you.

"I've got you, baby. Almost done"

Once he'd finished, he tossed the washcloth across the room before crawling back into bed with you. He laid down beside you and tugged you into him. You angled your body to lay your head on his chest.

The two of you laid in silence for so long you began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. He had to be tired after that drive and the exertion of your love making, so you didn't blame him.

Just as you began to drift off to sleep yourself, you heard his soft voice.

"Babe? Can I ask you something?”

You softly hummed in response. Waiting for his question.

“How do you feel about a baby?” This question woke you back up, it jolted a sense of happiness through your body and opened your eyes, looked up at him and smiled.

“I’d love to have one with you Joon” You said rubbing his bare, toned chest. He showed you his dimpled smile.

“Good” He cupped his big hands against your stomach and rubbed slowly, you both fell asleep soon after entangled in one another.

End ♡︎

A/N-

Hello guys, I know I’ve not uploaded in a while because of writers block, I wanted this to be a Halloween special but kept putting it off but anyways, hope you liked it and don’t forget to comment/like, also don’t forget that these stories are also available on my Wattpad account, my instagram account and my A03 account (crooked_haven)!

[jjmorelikeotp]

This. This is the kind of batshit insanity I'm talking about. Y'all have serious mental issues and while this isn't your FAULT, it is still your PROBLEM. YOU have to solve it. YOU have to take responsibility for the feelings you're feeling and maybe self reflect a little and learn to regulate them like a normal human being because the amount of comments I saw under Hannah Bahng's picture WHICH IS ABOUT HER DROPPING HER MATCHA LATTE WITH A PINK STRAW saying something about Minsung is SO CONCERNING it makes me sick.

The level of literal insanity of people.

If larry stylinson was a thing it would be even worse than what it was back then and it was already a catastrophy, and I say that as someone who shipped them, I admit that. I was a young teenager and they were cute, but even at the time I UNLIKE other people had basic human decency to a) leave other people out of this shit and b) not be delusional or bother THEM with it. Or their girlfriends. Or anyone. c) realize that they don't know me and I don't know them, respect their privacy and not take this shit so batshit serious or invade any of their lives. The list goes on.

HOW can people do this. HOW boring and miserable must your life be if you live in a fantasy world in your head SO much that you cannot separate your...idk? Wishes? Fantasies? From what the people you emotionally depend on WHICH YOU ALSO DO NOT KNOW PERSONALLY? Do you not LEARN basic manners or behavior? Hannah is a real human being, just like Minho and Jisung are.

No matter how many posts or Videos you see or fanfics you read or edits you make, you have NO right to make any assumptions about anything in their life, let alone write bullshit like this.

And OF COURSE it's always the accounts who hide behind some idol's picture who they're also obsessed with.

This is not your fantasy world.

You can ship idols, i get it, some have chemistry. Yes you can wonder if there is something actually going on, that's a natural human behavior to analyze or wanting to understand relationships of other people - but REFLECT YOUR OWN FUCKING EMOTIONS AND THINK BEFORE YOU ACT.

It is NOT serious. Even people who are online a lot do NOT think of these people this way just because they make a funny tweet about it that says they "are going insane" or "want what they have" or "ask for one chance". It is a JOKE.

The internet is NOT REAL LIFE .

Idols are TRAINED PROFESSIONALS who perform and have STAGE personas. Interactions are fanservice. Even if they aren't - YOU DON'T KNOW THEM. YOU DON'T GET TO ACT LIKE YOU INTERACT WITH THEM ON A FRIENDSHIP BASIS JUST BECAUSE YOU FOLLOW THEM ONLINE. YOU DON'T GET TO SAY WHAT YOU "KNOW" ABOUT THEM BECAUSE YOU DON'T.

You watch videos and go to their concerts. You are a customer.

Your desire to have a relationship like theirs or someone who treats you like a kdrama boyfriend is a YOU problem. Stop supporting this "delulu is the solulu" shit just because some rare examples marry their celebrity crushes. Even for them it's nothing like they imagined you can be damn fucking sure of that.

Stop faking ai videos of idols kissing you or each other or ANYONE. Stop reposting rumors and taking everything so damn serious while being dramatic. Stop faking those texts. You never got a text from your idol and I AM SO SORRY TO HURT YOUR FEELINGS but you never WILL.

If I can do that and think like that even as an account who has some otps who are real people then mayyybe you should check your own way of thinking. let me make something very clear, because I'm getting the vibe that we're not all on the same page on this : I ship idols as FRIENDS. hot friends with great chemistry who have a lot of soulmate capabilty and would make an amazing couple. I consume content too. BUT I REALIZE AND AKNOWLEDGE THE DISTANCE THAT IS BETWEEN THEM, AND ME.

EVERYTHING I THINK, I THINK. It has NOTHING to do with them. If I make a comment about them being married, that is a JOKE. I CAN ASSURE YOU 80 and hopefully MUCH MORE THAN THAT percent of us are JOKING. could there be something? Yeah maybe. We DONT KNOW. and it is NONE 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣 OF OUR BUSINESS.

Fanfiction is a great way to express yourself, but the people who inspire you should be your MUSES. a fictional avatar created by writers to live in a story that is also very much NOT a representation of the actual human being that is being portrayed. Think of that person as an actor playing a role in a movie they wrote the script for, playing a CHARACTER.

NOT REPRESENTING THE REAL PERSON OR REALITY IN GENERAL.

Some of y'all have lost any kind of filter and ability to separate reality from fantasy and fiction. And if your life is like that and you feel like you have to escape reality to deal with it, PLEASE get help. I'm so serious. Many people joke about this online but some who read those jokes don't realize this is such a big issue.

You are projecting part of your problem onto a real person that should not be affected by it.

And there are many reasons for that - capitalism, the media, the companies who keep feeding into these delusions and parasocial relationships, but most of all, things can only be sold when people buy. You are part of the chain and that is not your fault but it is your problem. And that makes it your responsibility to solve it.

It's getting out of hand.

Get inspired. Have a little crush, fine. Be obsessed with some bad for a while.

They can be very important to you I get it. I've been there. I'd love to tell some of them that they helped me through tough times as well.

But that is MY wish. Not THEIR responsibility.

"They are famous and it's their fault if this happens."

It is not a famous person's responsibility to feed into your delusions wtf? This became such a common thought lately...and it's also a marketing strategy. "They themselves talk about their relationship!! They ship themselves!!"

No, THEY actually know each other, spend time together that does NOT happen on a screen, WITHOUT their stage personas activated or the filter or media training they all have. They actually talk about their real relationships because they HAVE one with one another. Yes people even have connections.

Now imagine if you did NOT over interpret every bit or every small cut in a video of them holding hands or touching each other.

"I would NEVER touch a friend like THAT" and then it's a back hug. I'm sorry YOU never had a friendship like that. I have. I WOULD, in fact, touch my friends like that. I would write songs for my friends. I would also make dirty jokes. Dance together even when we're nor dating. Cuddle. Sleep in the same bed. That's just a healthy friendship. (It can be, it does not have to be this way to be healthy.)

Lonely people obsess over celebrities to make up for the lack of social contact they have. There are studies on this. Look it up.

And the entertainment industry knows this and uses it daily.

Don't use them to built a parasocial relationship to escape your actual problems in life.

That kpop idol as well as your comfort character as well as your otp should NOT be your only source of happiness or part of your escaping mechanism. Y'all just don't wanna stop being delusional. Ground yourself and put that phone away. Exercise. They are part of your entertainment in life, THEY ARE NOT PART OF YOUR ACTUAL LIFE. BIG DIFFERENCE.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 10 

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo 

Rating: M (Mature Smut)

Word Count: 12,000

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Idiots to Lovers, Mature Sexual Situations.

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Rat Bastard Masterlist

If someone told you last week that today you’d find yourself staring into the eyes of Doh Kyungsoo — but really, really staring into the depths of them, and all around them, squinting and scrutinizing so up-close that you could even see that itty bitty mole in the lashline of his right — left — one of his eyes, and you could probably even count the lashes he had on his bottom eyelid with the way you leaned in to get the shape right, to get a good view of the shading, to get the minutest of details of this man’s eyes — if someone had told you that you’d be doing this right now with him, you’d recommend that they seek professional help asap. 

It didn't help you at all the way his brown irises followed you around, that little dance of his eyebrows and the slow blinking and the little pop up of his cheekbones just below his eyes that vanished as quickly as it had appeared; the beginnings of a smile; some stifled reaction to you when your focus grew to levels too intense and he obviously felt some sort of way about it. 

“Stop moving,” you complained when he scratched the tip of his nose with barely there fingernails and you moved to the other big eyeball on his face. The eyes were always the hardest. It was all hard but the eyes were really make-or-break, and once you’d scribbled in your best attempt, this thing might be broken. You were doing your best, but really, your best wasn’t so great. 

“This isn’t going to be good, so just put that out of your head right now.” 

His eyes flitted around your face again and he inhaled a quick breath through his nose as if he had something to say right now, right now when he’d already been holding the exact same face and exact same position for 25 minutes now and was seriously about to fuck it up with talking, “Shhhh, shut up,” you said preemptively pressing your pencil over his pursed lips. 

That primed and ready breath of his was very carefully exhaled through his nose. Thankfully his lips stayed closed. 

Your focus on his face was already hanging by a thread. There was just something about seeing him this close up that had you all messed up. You had to remember the task at hand lest you stumble and fall into those pretty lips of his. You did notice the clench of his jaw muscles and slight furrow in his eyebrows but you weren't drawing his mouth yet and you’d long ago scratched in some full eyebrows over his eyes that looked more like two poisonous fuzzy caterpillars than something you’d see on such an attractive face. It didn’t at all help that you were feeling so nervous today. 

Today, Day 1 of you and him. For some reason you hesitated to count yesterday as Day 1. Despite the date; despite the dramatic weepy declarations of love; despite the sex. The day had just been so long and fraught with conflict, it felt appropriate to start things off today. Today, the day after you’d accidentally fallen asleep right here in this kitchen on this mattress and the man had simply tucked himself in right beside you and let you sleep and snore and drool or whatever the hell it was you might have done in your sleep; he just slept too. He must have been just as exhausted as you’d been. He didn’t touch you, he didn’t pull you in for a spoon or sleepy morning sex and when you’d woken up he had already been up for who knows how long. You found him cleaned, teeth-brushed, dressed in something fresh, having a cup of coffee as he sat on this mattress you slept on and he just  — watched you sleep. Then watched you wake up slowly by the smell of the coffee and the creepy sensation of being watched and he smiled innocently at you as you crawled yourself up from the indignity of sleep and he didn’t even look away as you pretended as if you’d intended for this sort of thing to happen all along. 

Whatever protests to your shushing him just now had quit and you moved your focus down to his lips. You were leaning and doing your best to resist the physical pull you felt to him, your resolve was strong today. You had been keeping a distance today. You scribbled some more onto your sketchpad that you held up to your chest to hide all of the awful things you were doing to his pretty face with your clumsy fingers. It was so bad. You didn’t usually draw, but somehow you’d come into this with false confidence. You’d really thought you’d do better than this. But this didn’t look like him at all. You dragged the pencil led down from the top of his forehead, pulling strands of black hair down again and again, hoping that by simply adding more hair you might be able to cover up some of your many offenses. 

You’d made no grand claims to being an artist. Perhaps the most disappointing part of this was that you actually were trying.  

His lips were soft and plump. Moisturized and full and in the middle of one of the humps sat yet another mole. You’d been counting them with a little hum from the back of your throat with each little dot you counted on the face of your polka dot man, when you looked up again, the corners of his lips were pulled into a tiny smile, clashing with the shape his mouth that you’d already sketched down somewhere below his nose and definitely too close to his chin for accuracy. You hadn’t drawn him with a smile. He needed to stop that.

You lifted your pencil, “Stop smiling. You’re ruining everything.” Your lack of talent wasn’t his fault, but somehow you felt better blaming this monstrosity on him. His eyes widened and he lifted a hand to his chest, lifting both of his fuzzy caterpillars in protest, in indignation, and you made a quick shushing sound with hiss and a tisk from the back of your throat and he somehow resisted the urge to say anything out loud. 

The rules to this ridiculous game were clear and you’d both agreed to the terms ahead of time. 

You each got 30 minutes to draw each other with the art supplies you’d found in the box. The subject of the portrait was not allowed to speak or move and the artist with the closer likeness would be the winner. If neither of you could agree on a winner, you’d enlist an outside judge. You looked down at the image you’d captured and seemed so bad he’d have to go out of his way to lose to you.

The prize was the last pack of ramen. Something, it seemed, that Kyungsoo might be ready to kill for. You weren’t too invested in the noodles, but you sure enjoyed seeing him work so hard for them. The loser had to wash the mountain of dishes that mocked you from the kitchen counter.

You knew when to quit. You’d shaded your last bits around his eyes, attempting somehow to make shadows but really ending up with some sort of leatherback sea turtle effect on this terrible portrait that might have looked a little bit like him if he was turning into some sort of half man, half moss covered forest creature caught mid transformation. The timer on his phone was ringing and Kyungsoo was exhaling a long breath, shaking his head and pulling his face into dramatic stretches. You placed your monstrosity face-down on the mattress you both sat on in the middle of this kitchen and you did your best to keep your poker-face in place. You wouldn’t let him know that he’d already won the game. He had to work for it a little bit first. 

“Okay my turn,” he declared and he actually cracked his knuckles before grabbing his own sketchpad and reaching forward to grab ahold of the pile of assorted color pencils you’d been working through. Maybe that’s where you’d gone wrong, trying to match his skin tone and rosy lips and darker skin colored shadows which without any actual skill behind the application just made him look kind of abused. You should have gone with just black and white. Maybe the result wouldn’t have been so bad. 

Kyungsoo was seated on his butt with his legs crossed and he scooted closer to where you sat waiting for him to position you into the pose he wanted you in so he could begin. His close proximity to you had his inner thighs flush up against your knees and you idly wondered about the necessity of such closeness. You’d done his portrait with just a little bit of leaning whenever you needed to get closer to see better.  

But here he was. 

You squared your shoulders and clasped both hands in your lap looking into his up-close face and you waited, giving the smallest bounce of your eyebrows the second he looked up from his sketchbook and his brown eyes slipped up the length of your face and bounced all around your features, somehow never quite sinking down deep into your eyes. He was looking up at your forehead and he lifted his rounded fingers, lightly trailing the pads of his fingertips over the skin of your forehead down over your eyebrow, you could feel the stray strands of hair he brushed aside. The touch was so light and yet it quickly followed with the silent slip of his eyes down into yours where they lingered for half a second; for long enough for you to inhale through your nose and have to hold it; for long enough for your own eyes to widen and and for you to feel the microscopic bounce of your eyebrows. 

Those eyes had you for such a brief moment and yet you felt so captured. Maybe it was the way he was observing you. He had a job to do here though, and he let you go. You exhaled slowly through your nose, careful not to make it known that you had stopped breathing while he looked at you. 

You could hear the scratching of his pencil on his notepad in his lap. He kept it just angled enough to keep you from being able to see what he drew and when the temptation grew too irresistible you lowered your chin just a hair, dropping your eyes with your churning curiosity. 

Would you also look like a troll or did he have some actual talent? So far he’d proven to be annoyingly talented at so many things.

You felt his fingertips land just below your chin and he lifted your face up with the slightest of pressure with warm fingertips that did not leave your skin right away. He was looking into your eyes again and you forced your eyes to remain up. It took some effort and with him looking at you again this way you felt the same captivation as before. His fingertips under your chin, no longer needing to direct you, yet remaining nonetheless. His fingers left your face and his eyes looked back down at his sketchpad and you exhaled the held breath just as carefully with a controlled and undetectable exhale. You rolled your eyes around inside your head, to moisten them, to make a promise to yourself -- you would make an effort to get the upper hand over your flimsy self control. You would not cheat. You would stay still and you’d follow the rules and then you’d wash the dishes when he was done and you’d probably even wash his still warm ramen bowl after he ate all of the noodles by himself. 

If you weren’t allowed to see his progress you’d just have to settle with reading the reflections of moisture in his eyes. You’d just have to settle for catching every glance and glimpse of his pretty eyes that examined your face so closely you swear to god you could make out the shape of you reflected back in his black pupils. 

Kyungsoo lifted his pencil to your face, placing the eraser end of his pencil flush against your skin in a few spots that you wondered if he’d ever let you win against him at least once in your life together. He held it once against your forehead, marking a spot on the pencil with his thumb and adjusting something on his masterpiece. 

He was back with the pencil and he leaned in and squinted as he looked quite closely at your mouth. The scrutiny had you feeling a certain way and you pursed your lips just a little bit, puckering your chin and giving your face the smallest shake and you cleared your throat.  

Your movement caught his attention and he was holding a tiny grin somewhere trapped inside of his mouth. You could see the evidence of it in his eyes.

After not too much of a fight and while he was looking down at his work you saw his mouth pull into a wider grin. He was laughing. Maybe at you.

You knew you shouldn’t speak so you dipped your face ever so slightly and lifted your eyebrows with the tiniest questioning whine escaping from the back of your throat. 

His smile widened and you saw teeth, and his eyes bounced up to touch into yours, hearing your unspoken question and clearly understanding. 

“Nothing,” he said with the smile still on his face and a quick shake of his head back and forth, refusing to tell you. His response made you furrow your brows and your head ticked backward with a pout forming on your lips from him denying you an explanation. What exactly was funny enough for him to be wearing that silly smile. Was it something about your face maybe? Was it a flaw, perhaps? Something you’d spot in the magnified mirror and obsess over for a week? Did he see something too?

He was still focusing on his work, but you felt the tiny scowl in your lips and when he looked up again you pulled your eyes away from his, looking straight ahead at the empty kitchen behind his head. 

You could feel him looking at you. The kitchen cabinets were old and had big sections of chipped away and flaked paint and you wondered how many years ago this place was painted. His face bounced around in front of yours, eyes seeking to touch yours again and you kept your focus on the big loose flakes of paint that might come off easily if you wanted something fun to occupy your evening tonight, you could pick off that old paint all alone and get lead poisoning from it without the man who wouldn’t tell you what he found so damn funny about your face. 

“Hey,” you heard him say and you inhaled a very slow, very steady, and very calm breath; exhaling that used-up air with just as slow, steady, and calm of an exit. He called you. You ignored him and stared at your chipped paint. 

“Princess?” Warm fingers touched over the back of your hand and his face moved just in front of your line of sight, those brown eyes moved in, uninvited and you felt it again. He had you again, so easily, his sweet tone and that sweet nickname and you gave in. You tightened your fists between your thighs and his eyes roamed around your face again, slipping down into your eyes. You hadn’t heard any scribbling on his paper in a while and you wondered if this multi-talented man was already finished beating you at something else. Your eyelids bounced as you fought against your desires and he was so close to you now you wondered if he had moved even closer while you had your own silent little big-baby fit about absolutely nothing a few minutes ago. 

You heard his inhale and your lips parted when you felt the warmth of his hand land over your cheek. You moved nearly unconsciously, pulling your chin up so your lips were in line with his. You could still feel it inside of your chest, that very minor fit, that very slight upset at the very idea that he was laughing at you about something he refused to tell you. You knew you were being silly. This knowledge did not help you any. 

“I think I’m done drawing,” he said with a whisper and you inhaled to speak the moment he called it. If he was done you didn’t need to be still and quiet anymore. 

“What was so funny before?” You could hear the petulance in your voice as you said it, but you just couldn’t help it. You had some insecurities that loved to make an appearance at inconvenient times, no matter how lovely of a time you’d been having with him. Your question pulled his attention back up and he lifted a single eyebrow with a little tick of his head. 

“Oh,” he said with his mouth pulling into another smile with such a softness inside his eyes as he caved to it. He was shaking his head and he broke eye contact. 

“It’s,” he inhaled again and you could make out just a little bit of a rosy shade that covered over his neck. If he had that color during your portrait you would have used all of the crimson colors you had in your pile and made him look like some sort of red-necked woodpecker, “it’s silly, but I drew your lips without actually looking at them first. And when I did look, I got them right,” he gave a little head shake and he wrinkled his nose, inhaled, and his focus was back on your face and you felt his hand slip off of your cheek now that he had you back from the silly fit that was really nothing at all; as you knew deep down all along it would be. Your sweet boyfriend would never make fun of your face. 

You shook your head lightly, getting his point but feeling a desire for him to say more. Maybe he could describe just how many days, hours, weeks, months he’d daydreamed about kissing your lips. The smile on his lips sank slowly and his eyelids sagged halfway down before he inhaled again, “I‘ve had your face in my mind for so long, I hardly even had to look at you.”

Oh, yes, of course.

Of course it wasn’t something bad that he had noticed. You felt your own lips purse and your bottom lip pushed forward, feeling rather ridiculous for the negative thoughts that had filled your head earlier, before you even gave him, or yourself any credit at all, even though deep down inside you knew it, you knew it. 

“I still wanted to. To look at you.” He was smiling while looking down at the sketchbook in his hands, “you have a very nice face. I feel everything when I look at you.” 

He blinked slowly and his eyes were back. “I can't even remember anymore -- it was so recent, but I’m struggling to remember any of those old feelings from before. Before I loved you.” He laughed to himself once, “But even this — kind of feels like a dream. I get these flashes of fear that I might still wake up.” 

He leaned into you then, moving in close so quickly your eyes went crossed and he blurred in front of you and you gasped in surprise when his lips parted just over your pouting bottom lip and he kissed you quick. You hardly had time to register him coming in, let alone kiss him back. 

“You’re still real.” He said with the softest giggle. You felt a tightness inside of your throat. How could he be this beautiful? You felt such warmth in your cheeks. It was the suddenness of it. After yesterday, even after the love you and he had shared together, even with the small touches and longing looks, it was still all so brand new to you both that you almost felt too nervous to touch him as freely as you really wanted to. Maybe he really had been the more conservative type of man. What if you scared him off with how much you wanted from him and how badly you craved him? He seemed to pick up on your nerves and memories of him just sleeping beside you last night not touching you and you too nervous to touch him; well of course this odd distance from him only made you even more anxious for every little potential touch from him. The kiss just now nearly sent you back in time.

You felt the burst of butterflies that filled your chest and you felt absolutely accosted by the overwhelming surge of giddiness that instantly followed. 

You had to cover your face. Both of your hands flew up to touch over the burning heat you felt in your cheeks and you closed out the view of him. You had to hold it in, but my God this rush was unparalleled and the built up energy had to go somewhere. It came out of you as giggles; you were too worked up again. You were giggling like a mad-woman hiding under your own hands and when you peaked through your fingers that breathtaking smile on Kyungsoo’s face never even came close to satisfying it; the deep need you felt inside of you to look at him, to laugh with him, to be silly with him and play with him. The best you could do was the little squeal; lean forward with both of your hands on his shoulders and the smallest push against him. How dare he be this perfect, this attractive, this absolutely loveable and how dare he do it with a face that gorgeous? 

With the push came some more laughter from somewhere inside of him, you’d jostled it free with the attack and your eyes caught the flutter of a sketchbook that fell down onto the mattress beside his thigh. Your eyes couldn’t resist looking, you really did not try to look and you hadn’t even seen all of it but what you did see was a black and white pencil sketch of a nearly perfect representation of your mouth. There was expert level shading, there was absolutely no mistaking the raw talent this man had for drawing even though at the beginning of this game, he’d promised, swore to you up and down that he had no formal training in art, hadn’t even taken a single art class or watched an art centric youtube video. His fingers grabbed his book the moment it had fallen and since it had all happened so quickly, you’d given nothing away to betray the fact that you had seen it. 

Your mind was slipping down to the memory of what you’d managed. That awful monstrosity that sat face down on the mattress beside you and you could feel a dark and dirty cloud; the used motor oil-like, dirty mop water-esque, three times used bath water sense of absolute shame covering over you from your head to your toes. He was just so very special and seeing yourself compared to him just made you feel unworthy. Unworthy of his time, his company, his touches and kisses and love. You felt an urge to hide from this feeling. 

You reached a hand out and gripped your sketchpad tightly, shoving it far under your thighs so that you sat on the thing and you opened your mouth to begin hostage negotiations both to save your pride and to save his feelings for having to see such a terrible gross misrepresentation of that absolute beautiful face of his. 

His giggles had long since calmed down and you closed your eyes and inhaled a steadying breath; your recent giggles now a long distance memory and in no way competition to beat back the apprehension you felt coursing through your mind. 

He couldn’t see this. You’d just give up now and you’d take this thing to the grave with you. He could have the ramen. You’d wash the dishes. You’d rip the page out, tear it into a million pieces and you’d eat every single bit if you had to, but he couldn’t see this. 

“Umm,” you said softly, your eyes unable to meet his very suddenly — suspiciously so — and finding your mouth had gone too dry for your words to come out freely, you had to lick your lips, look at the cupboards with the chipping paint flecks behind his head and shake your head to loosen up your tongue. 

“I -- uhh,” You exhaled, knowing that it was ridiculous for you to be suddenly nervous about this but you knew the kind of person he was, you needed to find a way to get out of this without raising too much suspicion so he would let it go and just take the win.

“I don’t think we should do this.” The second the words were out of your mouth, you looked into his face and you noticed the immediacy with which you’d grabbed his attention. This game had been a bad idea and you needed to convince him that it was in his best interest not to complete it. 

But something was changing on his face; that beautiful smile was sinking quite slowly and he pulled his chin back, giving his head the smallest head shake of non-understanding. 

“I just don’t think —  it’s the best idea —” your brain wasn’t working right. His eyes had changed and it had happened so suddenly, the dramatic darkening inside of his eyes swallowed up your words and took your confidence. 

“What are you talking about?” His whispered question felt so small and unsure and you absolutely hated the look that had manifested in his eyes. Oh no. You’d used the wrong words for this. You’d captured a look of fear in his eyes; the very last thing you meant to do. 

You very quickly reached a finger out to lightly grip the sketchbook he’d abandoned on the mattress beside him. You were shaking your head, stoutly denying the awful conclusions he’d had jumped too.

“Let’s just say you won, okay?” There was a whining, pleading tone in your next words to him and that flash of darkness in his eyes shifted when he looked down at the sketchbook that you were still pulling into your lap, while shoving your own farther under your butt. The smile on your face was to really sell it. He won, you lost. Neither of you needed to check the drawings.

You heard a sound come from his chest. A rough exhaled puff of pure air straight from deep inside of  lungs. He was lifting his hands and rubbing roughly over this face.

“Why would you say it like that? I thought you meant us.” He said from under his hands and when he pulled his hands down you could see a distinct pinkness in his cheeks, his ears were bright red kind of like the bright red ears on a Tasmanian devil. Maybe the portrait needed more color. 

The man had been flustered by your choice of words. Your hands were up and you waved away the very thought of that. Your own insecurities be damned, you loved him and you weren’t about to give him up so easily.

You quickly spoke, to clarify. “No, no. You can have the ramen. I’ll wash the dishes. We should stop this game.” 

You smiled wider, meaning it. Nodding your head with how much you meant it. Searching inside of his eyes for signs that he was accepting your graceful terms of defeat.

Kyungsoo shook his head back and forth and closed his eyes lightly through the denial. He had no convincing smile on his face to maintain. He had no scams to run to get out of showing his portrait.

“But you won,” you said with your teeth bared, the wide smile getting more difficult to maintain. “I lost. We don’t need to check. You’re superior. I’m inferior. You’re the best. I’m the worst.”

His face was blank now and he was watching as you rambled, simply letting you dish out as many nervous words as you could at a rate at least twice as fast as a normal loser might declare their loserdom. 

“Winner.” You motioned a hand toward him and that blank look in his eyes turned into a suspicious squint. You were over selling it. Something that had been impossible to sell to begin with. Perhaps you’d never have been able to convince him that he didn’t have to look at your picture.

“Loser.” You whispered with your hand on your chest. 

“What did you do? Did you draw me with devil horns or something?” 

“Not on purpose,” you answered in a shameful whisper. “I really did my best, but, please — it’s just so, so bad.” Your hands were clenched down very tightly both of the sketchbooks. Your right palm dug quite hard against the metal rings that bound the pages together. 

“Let me see,” he said in a very calm voice. You wished your own voice could sound so calm.

You shook your head. 

“We agreed. Let me see.” You let go of his own sketchbook but doubled down on your own, grabbing tightly with your left hand to the mattress when you noticed the shift in his balance. He would have to drag you out of this room to get this sketchbook from your hands. The silliness of your overdramatics we’re having an effect on him. You could see that the smile was back on his lips. You did your best to fight your own smile but you could already feel just how ridiculous you must seem. 

“We can share the ramen and we can wash the dishes together.”

Oh, he was offering now. He was negotiating with his precious ramen and his precious free time after lunch and you had been a fool to think you’d ever get away from this without playing the entire game you’d agreed to play with him.

You closed your eyes and you exhaled through your mouth, opening your eyes again to find that his face had changed again. 

“Please, let me see it.” This expression felt much more dangerous. His lips had pulled into a pout, a powerful one. His pretty bottom lip pushed out and his brown eyes begged well before his whining words eked out. 

“What did you do to me?” The question felt oddly pointed. Did he still mean the drawing? His voice had dipped with his chin that puckered, his eyebrows and his eyes pleaded.

Your mouth fell open. You hadn’t seen him act this way before and you felt blindsided by how easily you began to entertain the idea of giving in. He leaned in closer to where you stubbornly sat gripping the mattress with just a little less force now and loosening your tight and aching hold around those metal rings of the book. 

He leaned in closer to you, that same disarming pout growing even deeper on his face but he was moving so close the polka dots, woodpecker neck, and Tasmanian devil ears all blurred together; you could hardly even see his mouth but you could feel the body heat radiating off his skin. 

He could have it. 

He could have anything he asked you for as long as he asked for it in this way.

“Baby,” he whined softly, right into your ear. “Please let me see it.”

You felt that whispered word, all that it represented, the very first time he’d called you that, it sunk straight down inside of your chest and you could have let go of everything. That word, that name for you, for how he felt about you, said with that low voice of his, directed at you with about enough sweet syrup dripping off of his tongue to soften every single nervous gasp, every tremble of your hands that grasped so feebly at your old habits and insecurities and every uncertainty you had inside of your body. 

His warm palms, as hot as they were debilitating, slipped around your waist and both of his arms slinked tightly around you and you gasped out loud when he pulled you into him, and where he sat, onto his lap; moving you so easily within his strong arms. His lips bounced against your earlobe and you felt too stunned to move. Your skin was ablaze. He was touching you. He was so close to you and he was calling you Baby and you were actually floating away; no longer glued to this mattress with that terrible book under your butt; he had you on his lap and in his arms and his lips had just touched your neck and you were putty. A pitiful, weak-boned loser.

“It’s really bad. Like actually awful. You’ll die,” you whispered, feeling like some sort of puppet under his direct control. You’d felt so desperate for him to actually touch you all morning that honestly, he could get whatever he wanted from you. You were a damned idiot if you thought you stood a chance in any kind of fight against this man. 

You felt the inhale he took from within your hair and heard the small stutter of a grunt in his throat. The moment he’d gotten his warm hands around you, you’d already felt too affected by him, by his closeness and now with the way he breathed in his oxygen from so close to you, exhaling again slowly with the ghost of a groan echoing through the chambers of your heart, you were pretty certain his mind was beginning to drift away from the actual discussion you both had been having about the portraits. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. He was wrapped all around you but he suddenly felt tense and whatever coaxing movements had quite suddenly paused with his apology. “I’ve been trying to behave -- I know I should hold back and I shouldn’t do things like this, but you have certain--” his head pulled back enough for you to be able to see his face, see his eyes and the movement of his lips as he spoke. His hand was waving now, indicating with his motions what he meant, “--certain parts of you that make me lose my mind.” 

“I don't want you to think that I only want one thing from you.” 

The tightness with which he’d held you had gone slack and you felt him shift under your ass and you were slid, very carefully down the curve of his hips until you were no longer sitting on him. 

It felt like such a loss. You could have wept.

You were shaking your head back and forth. He had been holding back. He had been sparing with his touches and before you had a chance to respond to him, to tell him exactly how much you did not want him to hold back with you at all, he was reaching with his fingertips and grabbing both notebooks and suddenly the crisis was no longer happening inside of your pants but right here on this mattress with him flipping both of the books around at the exact same time so that they were both face up in all of their holy hell, putrid and horrifying, and lovely and absolutely fucking incredible glories.

You ran your fingertips over his drawing of your face and you melted. It was very obviously your face. it was you. It felt like love when you looked at it. Your chest felt tight. You noticed he’d added small details that you were positive you’d been the only one to notice about yourself. A tiny mark here mirroring something that had happened to you long before you were able to form lasting memories. The look he’d somehow managed to capture in your eyes had a depth that you didn’t think was possible to create with just a pencil and paper and yet the focus he portrayed looked far away, deep in thought perhaps, and somehow, inexplicably beautiful. 

Beside it sat your portrait. 

To your surprise, Kyungsoo did not laugh right away. You did hear the sharp intake of breath he took as he looked at what you had spent the entire 30 minutes to produce. This … shit. He lifted his hand to cover over his mouth and God dammit, he’d held out for so long. Longer than anyone in their right mind could have done. 

A testament to how much he loved you; how desperately good the sex had been but how much he didn’t want you to think he was only after one thing was spelled out right there in the stifled silence before he broke. 

Right before that palm clasped over his parted lips, you could see the pinkness in his cheeks, the stuttered exhaled breath that came out in rhythmic huffs from both is nose and his mouth and he was holding himself together at the seams now, that hand covering over his mouth and his eyes feasting on the rotten truth before him. It was so bad.

“Oh nooo,” he whispered through a trembling voice, and you closed your eyes up, bit down on your bottom lip hard and risked another quick glance at his face. “Oh my God -- what is wrong with me?” He was staring down at it, picking it up and, holding it up to his face, even looking closer at it and then his hand was back on his mouth, this time he pinched his nostrils closed hard and the suction of his desperate inhale pulled them tight. He was shaking now, on the inside. You felt the trembles through the mattress. You could hear the silent laughter stuttering deep down inside of him, even though his hand plugged his nose and his mouth as tightly as he could manage to dampen the sounds of his laughter but it only made it more frantic. 

It was impossible not to laugh. You knew this would happen. It was so awful and dreadful it actually might have looped back around to some obscenely hilarious thing that definitely shouldn't exist; this cursed object. 

“L-Look, why c-colors” he couldn't even talk. Your chest was shaking with your own laughter but when his rounded fingertips pointed to the eyebrows, you lost the fight against it. You had to cover your mouth to keep from actually spitting on him. 

“Help -- my, my eyebrows,” he was lifting that same hand that touched the portrait and he rubbed his fingertips over his own eyebrows on his face, probably checking to see if a family of big black creepy crawly caterpillars had moved in when he hadn’t been paying attention. 

You reached a hand forward and laid it over the drawing, covering as much as you could but both of you were laughing too much to get many words out. Your out of breath squeaks did their best to convey the ‘No. Stop. Don’t look anymore,’ messages. He was pulling your fingers down to uncover more bits to try and ask you questions about. You heard something to the effect of ‘w-why m-my nose’ but he fell over onto his side; rolling onto his back with his eyes closed up tight and his laughter taking the rest of his words and making them come out in rough nonsensical guffaws.

The laughter was too deep. His hands were holding his belly and you reached up a swift palm to smack several times on his butt in some attempt to get him to stop the maniacal laughter and breathe before he died.

“Stop. Stop! I told you, you’d die.”

He was gasping through it, wiping wetness from his eyes and your abdominal muscles were beginning to ache from it all. 

“It’s so funny and so amazing,” he managed to sit back up but he was wobbly and very pink and even a little bit damp. “I can’t believe this.”

“It’s so awful! Stop, stop.” You’d reached for the book, pullin hard and the second he’d registered that you were grabbing it he doubled down, holding it so tight you might both rip it in half before either of you gave it up.

“No, no, no, it’s mine,” he was really fighting you for it. You lost your flimsy hold on it amid the giggles. His eyes were wide and his voice was agitated and overly dramatic sounding. “You cannot take this from me. I’ll never ever forgive you. It is mine.”

“I’m pretty sure this is going to be a core memory.” He’d scooted himself several times back and away from you with his precious disaster and he held it up right beside his face, “Look at us, we’re twins.” 

You collapsed in laughter again to see them side by side. Your stomach genuinely ached and you were actually begging him now, “Kyungsoo, please. No more. I’m going to puke.”

You had to put a stop to it. He was insane. He could have it. You give up. You could only escape. You pushed yourself up and off of this mattress in the middle of the floor, took a step over the projector that was still playing some long forgotten movie on mute and you made your way toward the kitchen sink for your punishment. 

You weren’t working alone for long. Kyungsoo was quick to slink up beside you, flipping on his radio and slipping his hands into the same soapy water you had your hands inside. 

It wasn’t exactly a practical way to wash dishes. His hands kept grabbing for the same things you were already washing and after the little tug-of-war over a coffee mug that resulted in a tidal wave of soapy water that soaked your t-shirt to near transparent levels you had to actually shove the man with your hips away from your sink of dishes. He was unshovable. While he did move a tiny bit, he was back in an instant with a rough plop of his hands right back into your water and a chest full of manic giggles. You were feeling just a little bit exasperated by his silliness. It was adorable and it was, it was taking at least twice as long as it needed to and you were actually getting very wet. Your shirt stuck to your skin. 

You inhaled to voice out a quick complaint, not even looking at him as you nagged. “Dammit, Baby, let me wash them. The soapy part is not a two person job. Why don't you just rinse them or dry them or put them away? Get out of my bubbles.” 

You’d expected him to move. You’d expected him to take his hands out of the water, rinse them off under the tap and move to some other more helpful spot in the kitchen so you both could get this boring chore out of the way and maybe play another game, or take an explorative walk outside to survey the damage from the storm. He hadn’t moved though and after a few moments of his very noticeable stillness you turned to look at him. 

Kyungoo was looking at you, an odd expression on his face, almost confusion, almost disbelief. Did he not usually do boring kitchen chores? He was watching your face for a long while and you watched the very slow manifestation of a smile that built on his lips. His eyebrows rose up above his eyes and that same smile stuttered halfway through. His cheeks seemed just a shade rosier and you genuinely could not figure out what could possibly be going through his head.

“What?” you had to ask. He was suddenly acting stranger than normal. He was, ultimately, a weirdo deep down inside, but this was an odd reaction even for him. 

He leaned in then, his warm and soft lips landed over your mouth and this time he kissed you much slower than that quick stolen kiss during the game. You had a few moments to respond, you had a few moments to close your eyes and enjoy the unbelievable softness of his lips, the taste of his tongue. The sopping wet, soapy hand prints that added to the wetness on your shirt was an afterthought to the warm breath that you pulled into your lungs from his mouth, the slow and gentle way he pulled away from you before coming in again and when at least he inhaled to speak he didn’t bother to move his lips away from yours with the whisper. 

“You called me, Baby“ he said with his teeth bumping lightly against your top lip, “Am I your Baby? How can I resist? What should I do when you call me that?” 

Did you really call him that? You knew you’d been nagging him. He got you all wet with his stubborn attempts to help. 

“Did I?” You whispered with a little raise of your eyebrows. His eyes were on you when he gave you the smallest nod of his head and you remembered something about the odd words he’d been saying and the pointed way he’d held back with you all day. Small touches here and there but that unbelievably sexy man who had not only fucked you last night, but did so without hesitation or even protection was now trying to behave himself. 

Was he standoffish because the two of you had rushed into things so quickly? Was he out of his depth now and trying to retreat and rewind? Was this someone being done out of misguided respect for you or was he somehow reacting to your own anxious energy you’d been emitting all morning? You admit you had been rather nervous around him today but that wasn’t because you had any reservations or regrets; it was just so very new to you and the last thing you wanted to do was fuck things up so early in the game when the two of you were still getting to know each other by essentially living together in a strange place right off the bat. 

Your lifted your still dripping hands, trailing a wet path over his shirt from his abdomen up his firm chest and your eyes followed your fingertips over his shoulder bring your fingers to touch lightly over the back of his neck. His hands were still around your waist and his eyes had drifted a little with you touching him. 

You’d been so nervous today that you hadn’t touched him much, maybe even not at all. Maybe it had been your doing. The unwelcome weirdness.

“Baby,” you called out and you pulled your eyes up from the view of his parted lips that inhaled a sharp breath, looking up into his deep brown eyes that searched your face with the sweet name again slipping off of your tongue, “Why are you holding back? If it’s for my sake, I don’t want that.”

“You seemed,” he pulled his head back to look into your eyes and whispered, “a little different today. I thought —” 

You leaned in and you kissed him, capturing whatever words he had to say about whatever weird nervous mixed signals you’d accidentally sent him with your lips.

His eyes watched closely for whatever meanings you’d hidden inside of that kiss when you pulled away.

“I’m just — you make me nervous and a lot has changed.” His mouth hung open and he watched you speak. “I must like you too much.”

“But I am serious about you, Kyungsoo, and I definitely don’t want you to hold back with me,” you added quickly and the look in his eyes changed as the corners of his lips twitched hinting at the smallest smile. He licked his lips and bit down before anything obvious could manifest.

“You’re nervous?” You heard a hint of amusement in his question and finally, your eyes caught the smallest slip of a smile on his pretty face. 

“What do we do? We can’t both be nervous. I called dibs on nervous already, so you have to be something else.” 

His reassurances brought a smile to your face and you’d both stood here for too long already. The fabric on his chest had begun to lose the wet hand prints. The dish water was in danger of going cold. 

He moved first, with a quick dip of his hands inside of the bubbles he was grabbing dishes, your dishes, your punishment for destroying something as breathtakingly beautiful as his face and he was washing them. You were shaking your head as soon as you noticed what he was doing.

“You stop washing them right now.”

“My woman shouldn’t have to suffer alone,” he mumbled and you opened your mouth to protest.

“No, Kyungsoo, I turned you into a sea monster. Let me do it.”

You should not have said anything. He inhaled a sudden gasp and his eyes closed up tight as he started to laugh all over again, bringing his wet and soapy hand up to cover over his belly in pain as he laughed. The contagiousness of his giggles had you laughing entirely against your will. His laughter didn’t even sound enjoyable anymore, he simply couldn’t help it. He breathed in and out again, forcefully deep, trying to control it; holding a hand up and pressing fingers into his arching cheeks.

“Sea monster! I was trying to figure out the animal. It was definitely something aquatic. Why did you put so many spots on me?”

“Those were your moles, Kyungsoo, you are covered in them.”

“Jesus. I am? Really?” he whined out his question in a playful voice and you smiled widely and nodded your head up and down in earnest. He really was quite spotted and the more you looked at him the more you saw. They were quickly becoming one of your favorite things about his face. 

His balance was off and it was easy to pull his hands up by the forearms and plop him down into the other side of the sink, getting him the hell out of your bubbles once and for all. You had no idea he could be so silly and so happy so deep down on the inside that it bubbled up from inside of him and spilled out all over like this. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this kind of joy before and to feel this while scrubbing the burned on bottom of an old soup pot that was probably older than you were was unreal. 

The stray giggles had long gone quiet and you’d both worked in a comfortable silence for quite some time before he inhaled and whispered out a casual sounding question.

“Do you want to finish watching that movie after this?” 

You looked behind you at that mattress and the movie you’d hardly been paying any attention to and looked back at him. At some point, he must have paused it. You searched your recent memory and you could have sworn that he wasn’t really paying much attention to it either, but maybe he had seen it before. 

You watched his profile for a few seconds, noticing how he’d quite calmly asked this question, made no other suggestions for other movies, or even suggested restarting it so you could catch up on the plot and after a few moments his tongue darted out and he moistened his bottom lip, swallowed the moisture in his mouth and he just quietly cleared his throat in a very certain sort of way; all the while not looking up from the pot that had rinsed and re-rinsed at least five times now. 

This was something. 

You weren’t born yesterday. There was something happening here with this innocent, but only on the surface question that he’d clearly worked up the nerve to ask only after confirming how very receptive you were to the idea of him not holding himself back when it came to the physical aspects of your brand new relationship. Doh Kyungsoo was testing the waters. 

You asked an equally innocent question.

“Any updates from the hospital?” 

He must have known what you were asking. Would the two of you continue to be alone for a significant amount of time? Enough time for whatever might take place under that blanket on that comfy mattress if you just so happened to agree to slipping into that bed with him under the guise of watching an easy to ignore movie that neither of you were invested in. 

“Still waiting. They’ll be a while longer,” he said into his sixth rinse, all of his attention and focus down on that flowing water. You didn’t even give his response an acceptable amount of time to stew before you shrugged out a quick response.

“Sure,” you answered his first question with as much nonchalance as you could convince your tongue to portray, “let’s watch the rest of the movie.”

You were still looking at him when he finally pulled his eyes up to look at your face with your nonplussed ‘Sure.’ Your lift of a single eyebrow as you accepted his suggestion to watch the movie had his big eyes watching your face for a long while and somewhere hidden deep inside of those dark pupils, you caught the slithering tail-end of enough thick desire to flood your stomach with heat. The bounce of his own eyebrows and that slipping focus of his eyes that slid down your face; sinking down to your lips and sitting right there until you felt the itching need to twitch, to lick your lips, to bite down on them to do anything you could manage to do to satisfy those dark eyes of his and get him to finally look away from you. 

The dishes were washed, dried, and put away.

No movie snacks were prepared. 

There were no attempts to catch you up on what you missed on the movie; you doubted he himself knew. You didn’t even know the name of this movie and when you’d made your way to the mattress you found him sitting on his butt, his legs bent up in front of him at the knees, and with a quick button pressed on his phone, that movie began to play again.

You took your space beside him and adopted a similar position, wrapping both arms around your knees and you stared ahead at the wall where the movie scene played, feeling an overwhelming nervousness about the unpredictability of this. This movie had something to do with magic. You’d seen bits of flashes of lights and smoke. Someone had said a spell. You could feel him moving beside you, shifting his body into a more comfortable position with the piles of pillows propped up behind his back. He adopted a more casual half laying down position, his knee caps facing in your direction and his chin propped on his hand bent at the elbow. You could not even tell if his eyes were on the movie. You felt much too self aware to face him right now. You didn’t look directly at him but kept an eye on him in your peripheral vision. 

You forced your eyes forward but your every focus remained on the position, the slight movements, the little adjustments of the man who laid down beside you. The movie was playing and yet you could hardly absorb a single cinematic detail and you were still sitting up on your butt with your arms wrapped tightly around your bent knees, beginning to feel the urge to just give into this and lay down beside him under this ridiculous guise of watching a movie. You knew what this was. Your body was already responding with the flush of heat you felt all over, because of him, because of this man who had so easily burrowed himself a permanent home right under your skin.

Your legs were beginning to feel tingly. You had to move. You had to shift. You couldn’t really see the screen as well as you wanted to with the angle your face had been in and that was why you couldn’t focus on this. It had nothing to do with anything else, it was just for comfort, the tingly legs, the angle of the screen. 

Fifteen minutes into the scene, you moved. You shifted further down on the bed, you let the blanket he pulled up cover over your legs and you laid down with the center of your back propped up on your own personal pile of pillows. You pulled another one just under your head and you let your face sink toward his just a little bit, just enough to feel the warmth and comfort of another living human beside you, just enough for you to be able to smell his skin. 

It took another ten minutes for you to relax enough to drop a hand down between both of your bodies and it only took two minutes for you to feel the warmth of his fingertips touching lightly over the back of your hand and your silly mind lost the ability to keep track of time after that. 

His fingers were traveling, just light as a feather touching up and down your arm, slipping up high into the crook of your elbow before switching direction and making his way back down again with just as light of pressure and as heavy as hell intentions. 

You felt on fire. Every single perceivable thing about the man felt heightened. Your cells felt the warmth of his cells. Your skin was hyper aware of the exact position and location he lay in. You knew his bent knees were maybe 4 centimeters from yours, facing you. His thighs would have been within grazing distance from your hand if you merely reached a bit. Your ears tuned into the rhythm of his breathing, even the stuttered half breath he took with the little block you heard in his throat made its way into your ears and when he shifted his face mere millimeters you turned yours in involuntary response. It felt unimaginable that he wasn’t touching you more. He wasn’t reaching a hand up to slip behind your neck to pull you into him; he wasn’t lifting himself up to kiss you on the mouth, wasn’t rolling over your body and pressing himself in between your needy thighs, he was just laying there, lightly touching your inner arm with his fingertips as your entire body burst into flames that rivaled the burning building you caught glimpses of in that movie. 

You could have fallen with one word from his mouth. 

It was the last slow exhale that did it. You could tell that his lips were parted and his face had turned, impossibly closer to yours. You felt the heat from his lungs against your face and the skin of your scalp prickled and pulled with the goosebumps that spread from your nape down to the center of your spine; it moved like a wave through you and when you finally lost the battle and turned your face enough to look at him, he was watching your face with his dark brown eyes. The moment he had you held within, he inhaled through those parted lips and let his eyelids sink down halfway through the breath, his brown irises turned black in this dim lighting, his pupils never once letting go of your face. 

He didn’t look away. 

You couldn’t look away.

The forces radiating out of him felt too heavy to resist and you gave in with a sigh. You turned your face, dipped into him and you kissed his lips. That want had you by a chokehold, the way you wanted him nearly suffocated you. 

You kissed him and he kissed you back and oh -- oh you were trembling. It was coming from inside of your chest and each gasp for air had a stutter. His soft lips changed, tightening against your mouth; you felt the smooth hard toothiness of a grin and the puff of air from his laugh blew over the wetness left behind by his mouth. His hands were holding your face and after the chuckle from him came the inhaled whisper, “Why did it take you so damn long to kiss me?”

You didn't know. You didn’t know. You shook your head back and forth and leaned into him again, touching his face, reaching for his lips, capturing him again in another deep and desperate kiss before pulling away again to answer his question with one of your own.

“Why didn’t you do it? You could have kissed me.”

You wanted him. Every bit of your body wanted him. You kissed him again; it felt insatiable. Biting down on his lip did not satisfy it. Sucking on his tongue felt like not enough — you wanted to burrow under his skin just like he’d done to you and when you pushed yourself to sit atop of his slim waist and your thighs tightened their hold around his hips you felt eternally thankful for the thinness of the fabric of your panties below the shorts you wore today. Thin enough to be able to feel the definite shape and size of his arousal pressing hard into you; the friction and pressure gave very little relief. His hands dug hard enough into your thighs to leave marks and he pushed his hips up while his rough grip pulled you down. 

He shook his head back and forth and his lips pulled, showing his teeth before he pulled his pink lips in and bit down. He made a sound from the back of his throat, a moan that turned into a no, matching the shaking of his head, answering your question with a sound before he spoke.

“It had to be you,” he said cryptically. Smiling the moment you shook your head in confusion. 

“Why?”

Kyungsoo sat up then, and he was reaching for your face with one hand, wrapping his other around you, pulling you harder over his lap with a strong forearm around your lower back. 

“Because I want you to fuck me—” your skin reacted first to his words whispered into your ear; you felt the goosebumps erupt everywhere. Another wave of warmth flooded your abdomen, settling between your legs.

“I already know what I want.”

 “But I need you to want me. I need to feel you wrap yourself around me completely.” His hand tightened around the back of your neck and you felt the sting of his hard teeth sinking down into your neck below your ear. 

“And have me.” Your breath was caught in your throat. “And fuck me.”

You nodded your head, “I do — want to,” feeling much too breathless for quite as many debilitating words as he used. Your hands were pulling uselessly at his clothes; feeling not quite in full control of yourself with the trembling that you still felt happening inside. It was too much. You were overwhelmed but you managed a whispered request, “Take your clothes off.”

You had to get off of him. The logistics of removing all of these damned layers demanded it. You let balance give in and you sank down, noticing how the clarity in your mind very gradually returned without his hands on you; without that pressure between your legs; without those low whispered weighty words in your ear. 

If you’d been under the impression that he was beautiful before this moment, you hadn’t come into this with the full impression of him. You’d thought he was simply beautiful but this word felt so inadequate for the illuminatingly, nearly blinding view of this man watching you — waiting for you. You hadn’t come to this conclusion with everything; not the glimpse of that thick heady look of arousal in his eyes and the way he consumed you entirely as you stripped bare in front of him. You hadn’t made up your mind about his actual beauty without first properly considering the swollen lips; plumped up by your teeth — the dark eyes, black eyelashes, the perfectly straight hair that fell over his forehead and contrasted perfectly with the pink in his cheeks; the expanse of absolutely perfectly smooth skin; the very scant trail of dark hair that scattered from his navel; a breadcrumb trail that lead to the evidence of the effect you’d had on him. That beautiful part of him that swelled and twitched when you touched lightly along his abdomen with your fingertips as you made your way closer. 

Your lips pulled into a smile, feeling quite satisfied. His beauty was overwhelming and when he saw your smile, his lips mirrored it, pulling his lips in staggered bursts as his big eyes watched you climb over this bed coming closer to where he was, moving a thigh over him to sit over his waist again. This time without any barriers between your skin and his skin. 

The moment you felt him, when his hardness and your wetness met each other, the smiles fell for the sake of the other senses that overwhelmed. You closed your eyes and had to breathe through parted lips as you moved your hips over him, the slip within the wet here; each pass; each bump between your legs was particularly addictive. A peek through heavy eyelids gave you glimpses of him; his face as he felt you, the furrow of his brows, the way his lips fell open — pink and plump; the flutter and drift of his eyelids and the way his head fell back; him reacting to the way you felt slipping over the length of him. Those sinful words he’d said to you still echoed inside of your mind as you moved. You felt encouraged by his words. He wanted this. He wanted your unrestricted enjoyment of his body.

You braced your hands on his abdomen and you pushed and lifted yourself up and as if he had been made specially for you, he lined up so perfectly without any effort at all. As if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, he slipped inside of you, making you feel complete in a single motion as you sank down on top of him.  And all at once, all of the feelings of this, of him inside of you, of the slight pain of the stretch, the bump against him inside and then with how good it felt to feel him again; all of this consumed you so completely, you struggled to pay attention to anything else but the memory of his words; you let go of whatever silly restrictions you usually attached to sex. You could have this man. You could do what you wanted.

Still again and again your eyes sought him out. You watched his face as you fell. He was so beautiful and so very overcome — you watched him react to the feeling of you and each gasp from his lips, each furrowed brow and each bite down of his lips all fueled your movements. His hands were touching you, moving with you and he struggled to keep his eyes open, despite the very obvious need to look at you riding him like this, these feelings took his self control away from him.

The temptation to watch his reactions was so strong but another sensation demanded precedence. Closing your eyes and feeling him was everything. With each sink, each glide, each rough grip of his hands on your hips that pulled you down onto him the pleasure built inside of you, and when you could feel yourself succumbing. When you snaked your hips forward, slipping against him in that desperate way that brought you closer, you simply gave in; tightening your thighs, tightening your walls around him, shaking and trembling and coming undone on top of him with a reckless abandoning of every inhibition you’d had in the past. Something about him -- something about Kyungsoo. You gave in without hesitation.

And he -- he gave you only a few moments of it. You were still trembling when Kyungsoo sat up, compressing his strong arms around you tight enough to steal your breath. You felt dizzy when his hand landed on the back of your neck and his demanding mouth opened; he used plump lips to spread your parted lips further, he suctioned your tongue into the hollow of his mouth and the trail of wetness that connected your mouths when he pulled away held on, succumbing to the distance with a wet pop that landed on your heaving breasts. You felt just as desperate as his needy kiss; even his humid naked skin when pressed up against yours seemed reluctant to let go, you felt the warm stickiness wherever your skin met his, and when he moved just too far away, the humidity slicked over your skin’s surface begged to hold on just a little while longer.

His tight hold around you did not let you go, even through the rough roll as his muscles pushed and you found yourself on your back, looking up into the ceiling at the harsh fluorescent lights that lined this big room. Your limbs all wrapped tightly around his body as he pushed and pushed and pushed in between your sticky thighs, into the slick wetness, deep inside of you again and again until he was shaking, until he was pushing in hard, until he was moaning into your ear with that low voice, until the tremors echoed inside and brought the flooded heat that he filled you up with. 

There was a pause, only for a few breath’s worth of time. 

You felt the weight of his body land over your chest for a moment. 

Kyungsoo laid his head down on you, his temple right over where your heart beat frantically inside of your chest and you unwound one of your hands, slipping your fingers into the strands of his straight hair and feeling the heat of his scalp with your fingertips and you just touched him softly and gently, feeling all of the life inside of him and knowing that this was something bigger than you. It was something bigger than him. It felt like so much more. All of that labored breathing and these two thumping hearts that beat in sync beside each other seemed to fall into the background. 

This felt like nothing you’d ever felt before. This felt more than love. This felt more than happiness. Something greater than peace or satisfaction and something insurmountably bigger than the universe. Something unnamable, something indescribable like the nanoseconds of death itself when the soul slipped over the threshold and exploded into pure light. 

You could have cried; if it had prolonged for longer than only a few breaths you might have. You felt him shift, probably worried he was suffocating you by laying on your chest like this. With the shift of his body came the soft sounds from him; the soft touches and gentle kisses over the surface of your skin that was already beginning to cool off. 

He sighed into the skin of your neck and the dreamy sound pulled your lips into a smile. 

His whispered words slipped inside of your waiting ears. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you.” With these words, they carried along the dreamy sort of promise that slipped into your open heart and clamped down tight inside the chambers, promising to never ever let go. Promising you a lifetime of this -- this something that you might just spend the rest of your life with him trying to give a name to. 

“Me too,” you whispered and for now you just smiled, not too concerned with silly things like finding the right words to describe just how much this human meant to you. 

All that mattered was that he was yours and that was enough for you. 

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Rat Bastard Masterlist

[exosmutfactory]

Wanna Be Yours 001

Originally posted by tipannies

Maybe not all good girls are good, and not all bad boys are bad. It’s all about perspective and experience, for not everything in life is a clear black or white. Sometimes you will find gray, brown, or silver… Possibilities are endless. And Byun Baekhyun is too god damn fine to resist.

◤“Stop smoking, it isn’t attractive.” “Stop swearing, it isn’t either.” “Fuck you.” “When.”◢

Main Masterlist | Bookclub zone | Chapter 1✓

networks — @/superm-net @/bbh-net

pairing — Baekhyun x Monica (OC)

word count — 3.8k

genre — biker! baekhyun, bad boy! baekhyun, enemies to lovers! romance, slight angst, fluff, smut (one chap - eventually)

[ This chapter contains: an introduction 🚲 ]

A/N: Hello! I'm introducing one of my AFF-exclusive, BBH stories to Tumblr! I'm posting this chapter to see if readers on here want to read it 🥰 This story doesn't have a tag list, so let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters either in my ask box or the comment section! 🌸 I'll continue writing this when I finish my other story: Only Forever 🌊

Chapter 1

Look around, lovely

I’ve been through many things in my life. From my ex leaving me for a “slim thick” girl who lived three blocks away to my best friend, making it their goal to break my spirit from the inside out. I had to cut ties with my treacherous family. I had to change my name, eye color, and wear a purple wig to flee from another crazy ex to Hawaii. I almost had to file for bankruptcy when my twin sister bought three foreign sports cars in my name.

—I’ve been through a lot, but I never expected to find myself in the middle of this shitstorm.

“Yo, Chen, move your ass!”

“I’m almost there!” This so-called Chen hisses into his phone, tugging me behind him by my arm. He glares back at me when I stumble over a recycling bin. “Shut it.” His grip turns painful when I slow down my pace. He stomps hurriedly down shaded alleyways and dimly lit streets. I'd scoff at his audacity if I wasn’t so busy trying to form a plan to escape and not fall flat on my face in the process.

“Yo bitch.” He throws another nasty look over his shoulder, “keep up, will ya?”

My eyes narrow as I purposely stomp on the back of his foot. “Oops,” I chirp when he yelps, hiding my smirk while he curses and hobbles on one leg. “Guess that’s too close, eh?”

He bares his teeth at me. The smirk quickly falls off my lips when the ground is suddenly approaching my face at an alarming rate.

I brace my hands against the pavement at the last second, but my right arm buckles under my weight, sliding my frantic hands across the rugged surface, scraping against the sidewalk with a painful burn. I groan at the fire hot pain shooting up my forearm.

“Oops,” he mocks, his leather boots stepping into view. He bends down in front of me with a tilt of his head. “Guess that was too soon, huh?” His victory smirk on his curled lips would have been sexy if I didn’t have the urge to punch him in his pretty face.

I keep my eyes on him, slowly bringing myself back to my feet. It takes everything in me to ignore the pulsing pain in my knees and the warm liquid running down my elbow as he stands back to his full height. His unimpressive 5’8 stature seems intimidating while I’m poorly hiding my injured arm behind my back. It doesn't help that he has a tattoo of a snake on his bicep, the green ink peeking out from under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. He’s not tall, but he is buff, and that is enough for me to keep my mouth shut... for now.

He runs his eyes over my quiet defensive stance, his smirk turning even more cruel before he yanks me forward by my injured arm. “If we’re late, that’s your ass.”

I roll my eyes to distract myself from the tears threatening to fall, biting my tongue. My hands and arm throb painfully in sync. That hurt like a bitch and he’s two seconds away from being smacked like one.

After walking a few more empty blocks, the rev of an engine reaches my ears—and it’s not from a car. My heart plummets when the realization sets in and the beaming headlights of shiny black vehicles come into view. Two motorcycles stop a few feet away from us in a deserted parking lot. The riders are wearing black helmets with matching clothes, blending in with the night. Their faces are shaded under the dim light of the moon when they take their helmets off.

Dusk is on the rise, concealing the moon behind thick clouds as the world waits for the sun to peek over the horizon. The darkest hour of the night… Looking around at the buff asshole and two newcomers, I can only hope that I’ll make it to see the sunrise. I swallow my nerves while Chen impatiently drags me over to the others.

The guy on the left is the first one to notice us. He shakes his hair, the brunette strands catching light before he switches off the headlights. He’s tall with beautifully toned skin, whistling when we step off of the sidewalk. “Damn hyung, took you long enough.”

Chen shrugs. “Catching the prize was a bit of a struggle.” He rattles my arm for emphasis, his smirk visible under a flickering streetlight.

“Oh?” The brunette’s eyes trail over me, focusing on my pulsing arm before shifting back to the prick next to me. “Looks a bit like damaged goods, hyung.”

“That wouldn’t be the case if it had acted accordingly.” He shrugs, nonchalantly looking me over.

My eyes and mouth twitch. It is really taking everything in me not to say something.

“Hopefully hyung doesn’t mind,” The other tall guy speaks up, eyeing me warily while I stare at his unnaturally orange hair.

“Byun won’t do shit,” Chen waves him off, pulling me closer to a parked bike three parking spaces away. “He hasn’t before and he won’t start now.”

The orange-top guy starts to reply until a loudly revved engine fills the air, announcing the arrival of more motorcycles entering the deserted parking lot. I glare at the biker driving in front, from his laid back posture alone he must be the leader.

“Baekhyun!” Chen yells into the still night with a cocky grin, laughing gleefully. “So happy for you to finally join us. I feared we’d start without you.”

The leader calmly parks his bike a couple of feet away, pulling off his helmet while the other five bikers join him. I bite my cheek to hold back my gasp when his face is revealed. What I expected was some forty-year-old gang member with a huge tattoo, crooked beard, and salt/pepper hair. Not a twenty-something-year-old with one of the most attractive faces I’ve ever seen in my life.

His light brown hair ruffles in the wind, the salty scent of the sea rolling in. He shakes his bangs out of his eyes, looking at the man next to me with a blank expression on his face. Baekhyun’s eyes slowly follow Chen’s arm down to my own in his tight grasp. His eyes linger on my injured arm, the clench of his jaw and flare of his nostrils has my eyes shooting down to look at it myself.

The sight of blood steadily dripping from my ripped sleeve has me wincing. I bite my lip hard to hold back a pain-filled whimper.

Baekhyun cuts his eyes back to Chen with a murderous glare, “Jongdae.” He hisses venomously.

Chen stiffens, his grip loosening on my arm, “Byun?” He’s caught off guard, the confusion rings loudly in his uncertain voice.

“What the fuck is this?” Baekhyun looks at my arm then at him again, his voice growing louder by the minute. “Why the hell is she bleeding?”

“She wasn’t…” Willing to come? Willing to follow a stranger? Willing to get pulled out of a store for nothing? “Very compliant.”

“And you brought her here anyway?” Baekhyun gives him an incredulous look, his eyes narrowed at the latter’s silence. “What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do.”

I shift on my feet, highly uncomfortable just witnessing this exchange. The other bikers watching them quietly doesn’t calm my nerves in the slightest. I know one thing for certain—the tension can be cut with a knife, and I’m not about to be in the middle of this hell much longer.

“I was walking with her down the street, and she fell.” Chen chooses to say.

I crack my neck when I whip it around to face him. “Really?” I snap. “You purposely yanked me forward and let go, yet dare say I fucking fell?!”

Chen scowls at me. “Well if you weren’t being such a bi‒” He pales when I sense a dark aura behind me.

I turn around to a furious Baekhyun. His brown eyes blaze brightly in anger amongst the pitch darkness of the night, the wind tousling his hair across his forehead. The urge to take a step back is high until I remember who is right behind me. Baekhyun takes one look at me then turns his fire-filled gaze to the fearful man behind me. “I’ll deal with you later.”

I look down at the sudden hand gently grabbing my uninjured arm, meeting Baekhyun’s eyes before he takes a step back. And for some reason; I follow. He keeps his eyes steady on mine before turning to address the others. “I’m calling it off.” His gaze meets every individual one of theirs. “Any objections?”

No one even so much as moves.

Baekhyun firmly nods, peering down at me with a raised brow. “Come with me?” Even while he asks, I’m already being led over to his bike. He grabs his helmet and pauses, turning to me, the dim street lights reflecting the mysterious glint in his brown eyes. “Have you ridden a motorcycle before?”

I look at the bike then back at him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you planning to kill me with it?”

The corner of his lips twitch up, “that’s a no then. May I?”

Eyeing the helmet in his hands, I nod, quickly muttering, “if I die, I’m suing you,” when he starts to place it on my head.

Baekhyun chuckles. “Don’t worry.” He adjusts the helmet with a teasing little grin, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “You’re in good hands.”

“Uh huh—oof!” I yelp when he suddenly lifts me up and sets me on the back of his vehicle—that seems one hundred times more intimidating now that I’m sitting on it. “I swear, Byun, if I fall‒”

“You won’t.” Baekhyun affirms. He throws his leg over the motorcycle and climbs onto it with grace, throwing one last look back at me before starting the engine. It purrs in a way I’ve never heard before. The low, crispy sound vibrates through my entire body when his deep voice reaches my ears. “Hold on tight.”

When he revs the engine, I wrap my arms tightly around his waist. The fear of death is greater than the pulsing of my bleeding arm. We speed out into the street, the others becoming mere specks of shadowy figures in the distance as we go further down the dirt road.

My eyes stay partially closed until I remember that I’m wearing a helmet, and if anyone has to do that its Baekhyun. Which is fucking scary considering the fact that he is the one driving! Steering this two-wheeled vehicle that tilts side to side depending on the gravitational pull of the earth and the wind.

I flinch when we roll over a bump in the road, gripping the front of Baekhyun’s shirt. I can’t tell if it’s the motorcycle or his chuckles causing the vibrations in his chest when I rest my head on his back. The sun is slowly rising, pale light peeking over the horizon. It bounces off of the calm ocean water in the distance. It’s fascinating, how the ocean and the cloudy sky meet, like a snowglobe full of cascading sparkles.

The blur of buildings comes into focus when we slow down, Baekhyun resting his feet on the ground when we reach a red light. Recognizing the slightly run-down buildings, my heart rate picks up. “Baekhyun? Where are we going?” I ask warily. Instead of replying, he pats my clenched fist in a pacifying manner and takes off once the light switches to green.

Gulping down my nerves, I make sure to take note of every street we go down in case I have to hightail my ass out of wherever we are headed. The sight of small brick houses and wide front porches brings a wave of nostalgia over me—and not in a good way. All I can do is hold onto him and hope I stay in one piece until we reach our destination. The weight of my knife concealed in my left boot gives me little reassurance.

We start to slow down on a street that welcomes us with the largest maple tree that I’ve ever seen, followed by small but surprisingly well-kept homes. It’s pretty for the infamous neighborhood that we are in, and the house we stop in front of in particular is the nicest one.

Baekhyun drives up the driveway and parks, getting off the motorcycle with grace before helping me down as well. I flinch when I try to straighten my injured arm. It hurts worse than it did earlier, burning every time my denim jacket sways in the wind and brushes against it. I keep my arm bent at the elbow while clutching it to my chest.

Baekhyun notices but doesn’t say anything. He walks up to the house while I linger behind, taking in the flower-filled yard. Pretty pink roses and beautifully bloomed dandelions take up most of the land. Growing steadily alongside the driveway and sidewalk, their healthy petals awaiting the sunlight.

“Hey.”

Turning back to Baekhyun, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe of the open door. The sun shines down on his caramel-colored coat, black graphic tee shirt, and leather pants. The more I look at him, the more confused I get. How on earth is he in a bike gang? He has no visible tattoos, no piercings. The only things “gangsta” about him are his sharp brown eyes, confident stance, and authoritative aura.

Baekhyun clears his throat, jolting me from my thoughts. He raises a brow with a tilt of his head, the corner of his lips twitching. “Come in.” He disappears into the house before I can give any sort of reply.

Pulling my phone out of my bra, I snap a picture of the street sign and send it to my friend so they know my whereabouts—just in case. I tuck it back under my shirt and take one last look at the quiet neighborhood before entering the house.

The only way I can describe the interior is warm. With light brown walls and darker carpeted floors. The living room alone is full of worn-in couches with pretty throw blankets. When I start to take off my shoes, Baekhyun pops up, shaking his head, “there’s more dirt on this floor than out in the yard.”

He walks off into another part of the house with his heeled boots and loud footsteps. I spot a bright orange crumpled leaf and a patch of dried grass in the center of the room. Heeding his advice, I take a wary glance at the unlocked door before going to look for him. Walking to the other side of the living room, I’m met with a doorway to the kitchen on my left and a hallway to my right. Finding no sign of Baekhyun in the tidy room, I venture down the hall.

“In here,” he calls out just as I pass the first door on the left.

Backtracking a few steps, I look inside the bathroom while he rummages in the cabinet under the sink. My eyes move back to him when he swears.

“I know I left it somewhere,” he mumbles just as his eyes caught sight of something. With a tug, he pulls back to close the doors, standing up with a familiar red box in his hands. “Have a seat,” he beckons me over, gesturing to the closed toilet lid with his chin.

I settle myself on the cold surface, the white porcelain chilling my skin through my jeans. Watching him carefully while he sets the first-aid kit beside the sink and takes out antibacterial wipes. When he reaches for my arm I flinch back.

Baekhyun gives me a look. “May I?”

Sighing deeply and gritting my teeth, I nod with a roll of my eyes, slowly taking off my ripped jacket and dropping it in the bathtub. I look away when he draws nearer with the wipe, clenching my hand into a fist. The sting brings tears to my eyes.

After what feels like hours, Baekhyun gets to work on the gauze, gently wrapping it around my arm and taping it together. I take a few deep breaths as he moves over to the sink, focusing on the sound of running water instead of the irritated skin of my scratched palms.

“You won’t need stitches,” Baekhyun murmurs thoughtfully, his voice breaking the silence, echoing across the tiled walls of the room. He dries his hands on an indigo blue towel hanging from a high bathroom rack attached to the wall. “...Are you okay?”

The hint of concern in his voice is surprising, it prompts my eyes shift over to him. “Yea—Fuck!” I hiss loudly, quickly bending my elbow back to its position. The tender wound throbs painfully in sync with my racing heartbeat.

His brows raise. He crosses his arms, leaning his hip against the counter and giving me another knowing look. I only glare back at him.

Baekhyun sighs tiredly. “I’ll get you an Advil.” He shakes his head, making his way out of the room and venturing further down the hallway. I clutch my arm to my chest, sending a quick text to my friend to come pick me up. Thankfully she’s right around the block, passing through the neighborhood on her way back home from work.

A smile curls on my lips when she sends a picture of the great maple tree at the nearest red light. The bandages crinkle when I stand up, grabbing my jacket and tentatively closing the first-aid kit before heading back towards the front of the house. Heavy footsteps have my head whipping back around to find Baekhyun in the hallway with a box of Advil in his hands. “Hey,” he cracks an awkward smile, his hair slightly disheveled.

I narrow my eyes at him.

The smile slowly falls off his face. He clears his throat, gesturing to the box in his hand. “I got you the Advil.”

“I see.” I don’t take my eyes off of him for a minute, shifting my weight so I can retrieve my knife if the need arises. His body language is off and his intentions are not clear. I make sure to keep distance between us; I’ve been in this situation a million times before. Whatever he is trying to achieve with this small talk, I am not up for sticking around to find out.

“Do you, uh‒” he runs a hand through his hair. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I called a friend,” I smile tightly.

“Oh.” His hand falls down to his side. He shoves it into his pocket and outstretches the box in his hand towards me. “Here, half the box is left. You probably need them more than‒” his eyes catch mine and he clears his throat again, “me.”

I look him up and down and carefully take the box from his hand, avoiding making any contact. My lips twitch in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Thanks.”

Baekhyun nods, shoving both hands in his pockets, the velvet green underside of his coat showing when he parts his lips again. “About what happened earli‒”

The rev of a sports car engine cuts him off. “Hop in, bitch!” my best friend yells, breaking the tranquil atmosphere of this shady neighborhood in the early hours of the morning. “We’re going home!”

I glance at the open door then shoot him a forced, polite smile. “Thanks um… Baekhyun, was it? But there’s my ride. I got to go.”

Baekhyun nods while I make sure I have everything, tucking the box of medicine under my good arm. “See you around,” he speaks up when I’m halfway through the door.

Darting my eyes back to him with my hand on the screen door, I smile my fakest smile, letting it slam shut behind me. “Bye!” With a roll of my eyes, I match down the driveway to my friend’s car and hop in with a passive-aggressive smile.

“What the hell happened to your arm?” she raises a perfectly arched brow.

“A situation you never want to be in while shopping for hairspray, Alison. Now drive.”

Part 1✓ | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |

A/N: If you would like me to continue posting this story on Tumblr, reblog or comment to let me know! (^-^)

[inmdreams]

honestly if i got blacklisted from the industry and not invited to the 13th birthday of the group i was one of the main vocalists of, i would Do So Much Worse and Say So Much More than baekhyun did

[lisavuitton]

masterlist

GROUPS:

-blackpink

-skz

-ateez

-bangtan

-txt

-nct dream

-nct 127

-exo

-riize

-aespa

-itzy

-enhypen

-twice

-red velvet

-seventeen

-gidle

-got7

-monstax

-p1h

-treasure

-tbz

[an-annyeoing-writer]

bloodline. - ch. 2/5: anathema.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +16 for mentions of violence, death, chronic illness, kidnapping

Genre: mafia!AU, angst, action

Chapter info:

Release date: 21st October 2023

Word count: 4 402

Warnings: mentions of death & violence

Bloodline Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist

Previous Chapter

There were different ways in which this situation could possibly end. During the hours spent traveling through the forest, Baekhyun was certain he thought over the most possible ones.

It didn’t mean, however, that he could find solutions to those that weren’t too optimistic. If the weather got any worse and they lost all their strengths, he maybe could have called someone, but what if that someone betrayed him? With what happened that day, he didn’t feel like he had anyone left to trust. Should he kill the person he was traveling with to provide himself with their warmth and clothes? Or should he be the one to, like a gentleman, die to give them the opportunity to find safety? From the objective point of view, he realized, he was more likely to survive in the weather, with his body obviously stronger.

Yet, he didn’t find himself able to make the choice anyway. He was fully aware that neither him, or you, would be able to kill the other person, and neither would he be able to end his own life.

And so he spent the hours pondering on different scenarios, growing aware, however, that his influence on the outcome of your situation was marginal.

With all of the above considered, your family being the ones to find the two of you first did not surprise him. With the tragedy that fell upon his own, he doubted anyone would be looking for him this soon. The one that attacked them, on the other hand, probably wouldn’t assume that he managed to escape the burning building, for as long as they didn’t rummage through it to see who was left inside, which would require the fire to be put out first.

In the meantime, your family must have been currently in pursuit anyway.

And he knew, he very well knew, what it meant, when the door of the black car opened and your father stepped out, a man whom he hated with his whole existence, far more than he ever hated you, even despite your origins.

If only he was in a better state, he would risk running for it; the forest was thick, the snow was everywhere. But he was too tired, too exhausted, freezing. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized how useless would that be; he could be tracked so easily in the snow, and the sun was shining so bright that he wouldn’t be able to hide. His only hope would be that your family wouldn’t care enough and just leave him there, and then maybe, just maybe, he would find a way to the town, and survive.

But, with the events prior, with how his family put a hand on your bloodline, he had no doubt that letting him go would require a special kind of mercy that your father was not known for.

Maybe, just maybe, if he had any kind of weapon, he would take you hostage, put you in between him and your father and trade his life for yours. He felt so awfully weak and helpless though, and when you walked toward your family, finally finding your safety, he knew he’s left alone.

Yet, he hid the emotions behind a mask of indifference, glaring straight into your father’s eyes as if it didn’t bother him at all, and as if the nearest moments wouldn’t decide his fate.

He didn’t have the guts to look after you when you disappeared behind your brother. It was only when you were far away, that your father nodded at the driver, and the man disappeared in the car for a few seconds.

“Your family has finally gotten what they deserved for their unloyalty, or so I’ve heard” he spoke. The driver came out of the car, handing your father a black, polished handgun. Baekhyun refused to respond. “It was about the time you bow to those who you depend on.” His voice was ridden off emotions, tearing through remains of Baekhyun’s confidence. “I said, bow.”

With a movement lacking an ounce of hesitation, the man raised his hand and shot.

Pain shook Baekhyun’s body, originating in his ankle. The boy all but whimpered, falling to his knees. He didn’t want to pretend he had any strength left. The pain, although almost paralyzing, didn’t matter anymore; his body was too numb. He breathed heavily.

He saw the man lift the gun again, aware that the short conversation was already over.

But that was when he noticed you, pushing the door of the car open, in the corner of his vision.

That’s nice, he thought. You found it in himself to try and save him, after all that happened. But it didn’t matter, your father would not change his mind.

His thoughts started to slip away when another gunshot tore through the air. He thought for a second, was he dead? How come he didn’t feel it? Why did he not feel anything at all?

He heard a scream. And it was a masculine voice, yet, not his own…

He looked up. His eyes widened.

Your father was leaning against the car, fingers pressed into his bleeding arm. The gun fell out of his grasp and now laid discarded on the road. And to the side, stood yourself… with a gun as well. Your brother was already behind you, shock displayed on his face as much as on yours.

Did you… really? In any other circumstances, he would have laughed.

“Holy shit” your brother gawked, but only for a moment. He registered you freeze in shock for a few moments, and carefully pulled the gun out of your poor hands, noting they were starting to tremble, and then quickly hid the thing in the holster by his own belt. Your father’s loud cursing ripped through the air, making you flinch. You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to stay put.

And then ran.

To Baekhyun.

“Get up, quickly” you commanded weakly, your body shaking so much Baekhyun silently wondered how could you make a step without tripping over.

You helped him to his feet and then started pulling him toward your brother’s car. He didn’t say a word, still almost as shocked as you were, the thought of refusing the wordless offer not even crossing his mind.

Your father’s driver stared at the scene helplessly. Maybe you’d find it in yourself to be sorry for him, suspecting that your father will put part of the blame on the poor man, but it was the least of your worries at the moment. The truth was, he had no power to stop you even if he tried.

Besides, your brother already managed to get Baekhyun in the backseats.

The man fall onto the cushioned surface with a heavy thud. Chanyeol started the car, pulling you by your sleeve to stop you from staring behind and get in.

Tires screeched.

Still a bit stunned when he revved up the engine, the realization slowly sunk in. Increasing speed mirrored Chanyeol’s immense need to leave the entire scene far behind. He was only starting to grow aware that it could certainly not erase the eventual consequences of what just occurred.

In the backseats, Baekhyun laid almost motionlessly, eyes fixated on the silhouettes of people he not so long ago considered his sworn enemies.

“What the hell did you just do” he finally muttered, although not as firmly as he would like to. The warmth seeped through his body along with pain of his limbs un-freezing. His vision blurred.

“I… I don’t know” you admitted. You sounded as if you were crying, but your worn out body refused to shed tears. You managed to retrieve the first aid kit from underneath the seat, and tried to shakily wrap a band around his injured leg. “I-I panicked…”

“He’ll be fine” Chanyeol spoke, looking at the two in the mirror. “He honestly deserved it. Really. But he’ll be okay.”

“What do we do now…”

“I’ll get us somewhere safe until this all calms down.” Baekhyun could tell, he was forcing himself to stay strong for his dear sister. He somehow wished that he could be this strong, too.

“Chanyeol, I’m sorry, I dragged you into this…”

“Don’t apologize. I will keep you safe.”

They seemed to keep talking, but Baekhyun couldn’t care less. The warmth surrounding him was comforting, and he didn’t feel much pain anymore. Although the sensation of peace had to be short-living, he decided the best he can do is let himself succumb to it for the time being.

Besides, he didn’t remember the last time he felt this safe, as when your tender, cold fingers catered to his wound. He briefly thought that he could just stay like this.

⁂

“Did you know what dad did?”

Your voice was rather quiet as you sat in the front seat, next to your brother who drove the car. There was a blanket wrapped around you, but you couldn’t fall asleep, glancing at the silhouette resting motionlessly in the backseat. Although you managed to get his temperature right and the bleeding wasn’t serious, you just worried. But his breath was steady and his face was calm whenever you looked back.

Chanyeol glanced at you. His brows furrowed in concern at your own state.

“Yeah. I found out when you were taken. That’s why… I wasn’t that surprised when you stood for this Byun. I had a feeling you’d also find out one way or another.” He let out a deep sigh. “I was worried for you, really, but being on his side feels just… disgusting. I don’t know, it’s our dad, but it just doesn’t feel like it.”

“Did it ever feel like it?” you muttered, bringing your knees to your chest and wrapping yourself tighter with the blanket. Maybe you were overthinking – maybe you were just looking for excuses, as if it was obvious for years that he was not the father you deserved. Anything to make it easier to justify what you’ve done. “What do we do now, Chanyeol? I just shot our dad. To save someone he wanted dead. He came all this way to save me and I shot him. My dad.” Your hands shook as you buried face in your knees, realizing that tears finally started running freely down your cheeks, and, after all you went through, the emotions simply took over.

“You hurt him to save someone’s life” Chanyeol corrected calmly. “You didn’t do anything irreparable, but he tried to. And he’s the one who made all of this happen. He’s the reason you were kidnapped. Looking for you was the least he should have done anyway” he huffed. His words sounded sensible even to you, and you felt that if you don’t believe him, you’ll lose your mind. “How did it happen, though? I’ve heard what happened at the Byuns, but actually, why did you go with him?”

You shrugged, but memories of the last evening, so irrelevant from where you were now, came back to you.

“I was locked in the mansion when the fire broke out… He got me out to run away.” You pondered on it for a few moments. “He… saved my life. He didn’t have to, it wasn’t even his responsibility. He could have gone to help other people, too, there for sure have been people to help, and his family was there… But he saved my life.” You sniffled.

“See? So you did the right thing by saving his.” Chanyeol reached his hand and ruffled your hair comfortingly.  

“Chanyeol, what will we do now…”

He let out a sigh.

“I know some people” he announced calmly. “I hope you realize we’ll need to hide for some time if we don’t want this guy tracked. Best to stay away until it all calms down, anyway.” You nodded with understanding. “So, I have a spare car, since this one is probably easily trackable. And I have friends who will help us hide and take care of the guy. So, just trust me.”

That all sounded reasonable, but you frowned at his explanations, threads just not matching in your mind.

“Why do you have a spare car? And who are those… friends?”

Chanyeol glanced at you, raising his eyebrows as if the answer was obvious.

“You’re not the only one who’s trying to escape this farce.”

⁂

You didn’t know how long you spent in the shower of a small apartment in the most rusty area you’ve ever seen. You were certain half of the buildings should have been demolished long years ago, and you would attract more attention by arriving here with the expensive, black car your brother owned, than you ended up doing by carrying a man with shot ankle. Fortunately, your brother’s “new” car was covered in more rust than actual paint.

Your body finally managed to warm up, but fatigue was taking over and you barely found it in yourself to get out from underneath the hot stream, drying yourself with a towel you were given and putting on some sweatpants and a big flannel shirt that belonged to the apartment’s owner. The clothes were cozy and dry, and that’s all you needed them to be.

You walked into the living room, sitting nearby the man who was carefully tending to Baekhyun’s wound. You found out his name was Yixing, and he was Chanyeol’s old friend. As for a medic, his apartment wasn’t too fancy, although certainly clean and well-organized. You suspected he may have been an illegal immigrant, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the case was similar for many other inhabitants of the suspicious district.

“Will he be okay?” you asked unsurely. Baekhyun’s eyes were half-open, and he seemed to be conscious again, but certainly in no shape to answer or join the conversation. Chanyeol took off most of his wet clothes, and the man still shivered slightly, even despite blankets wrapped around him and a heating pad at his feet.

Yixing glanced at you.

“Surprisingly, yes” he announced calmly. “This” he pointed at the injury “is nothing big. The frostbite would be a bigger problem, but it miraculously doesn’t seem like he’ll be losing toes anytime soon. Lucky of him. But it will take some time before he can walk. For both reasons.”

You nodded, relieved. You closed your eyes for just a brief second and it somehow led to almost falling off the stool. Yixing eyed you cautiously with a small, polite smile appearing when you looked back.

“You should rest. I’ll need to check on you, too, but it needs to wait. My bedroom is on the left. Sorry, I didn’t have the time to change the bedsheets, but feel free to sleep there. Don’t worry about anything. He’s in good hands.”

You couldn’t express the gratitude you were feeling at the moment. No matter how suspicious this area felt, you were already certain that Yixing was a real angel living there. You thought of all the things you would do to return the kindness, but your mind started dozing off, and as soon as you arrived in the small bedroom and laid down on the bed, wrapping the duvet around yourself, everything became irrelevant and the comforting darkness swallowed you fully.

⁂

Chanyeol stood in the grocery store, in front of the rice aisle, staring at the boxes in front of him with thoughtful consideration, whether “premium rice” was any better than “rice”, considering that they both costed almost the same. He felt like a child; all his life, there was always someone to do grocery for him, to cook for him, and at some point he discovered that he never really considered how those simple daily tasks are relevant to survival.

He stared at the grocery list, written messily by Yixing and left for him to tend to. But how could he know which type of rice will be good? He knew of different types of it, obviously, but the list literally just said “rice”. With time, it got to him how much about real life he will have to learn if he decides to leave the comfort of his house and wealth.

He left the store with a huge stack of everything that he thought Yixing could need, either now or in the future, trying as well as he could to return the favor that his friend was doing for him and others right now.

The snow was falling in thick clusters, and wind had picked up, the weather becoming way worse than the day before, and he could only imagine how bad would it be, was his sister and their new acquaintance to stay in it for hours. In the old, rusty car, the heating somehow worked, but it took quite a while to warm up the space around him as he sat behind the wheel. His black car, now left behind for anyone to find, had the ability to warm up almost instantly.

He was about to start driving, when his phone rung and he glanced at the device, considering for a short moment, whether it’s something he should answer. But he put the phone by his ear.

“Chanyeol? Are you okay?!”

“…Mom.”

His voice broke when the caller’s identity became known. He felt his hands tremble when he turned the car’s engine back off.

“Are you and [F/n] okay? I’ve heard Byuns took you two hostage…!”

Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who told you that?”

“Your father, obviously…”

The woman’s voice was clearly tense, but he had an impression that more than an expression of care about your wellbeing, she demanded explanations. He needed to admit that both of your parents were quite similar in their nature; business like theirs couldn’t leave people unimpacted, and at this point, he learned not to expect too much.

“It’s not true. I shot him” Chanyeol announced, as if it was the most obvious thing. It was almost not a lie; he was the one who gave you his own gun. Upon your request, of course, but it was his choice to help you.

“You didn’t” she stated sternly. The man kept quiet for a few moments, taken aback by the answer. “The kid of Byuns’ took your gun, overpowered you and your sister. Everybody knows that.”

Her voice pressured him, and he finally got the hint; all sins could be forgiven, it said. No one needed to know what happened. Her children wouldn’t put a stain on her family’s name. That’s what it meant.

“No” he finally spoke and his voice broke once again. “That’s not what happened. What happened, is that our father tried to kill someone innocent just because that person belonged to the family he doesn’t get along with. And we just couldn’t look at it.” He felt his anger grow and he dug his fingers into the car’s steering wheel. “The truth is, he’s a ruthless murderer who doesn’t care about his family, and only about his image. And that your bloodline will die off, because you will be all left alone” he snarled.

There was a silence on the other side for quite a while, and neither of them decided to soothe it. His mother’s breath was calmer than he expected it to be. His own breaths came out ragged, yet not even an ounce of him wanted to take his words back.

“Are you certain of what you just said, Park Chanyeol?”

The weight of the situation fell onto him, but there was still nothing that would convince him otherwise; maybe just fear, crawling in him, the fear of being the one left alone in the end, of losing what he got so used to in his life. The wealth, the opportunities, the endless security that his family could provide – there would none of these be left for him. Or for you.

“I’ve never been more certain” he confirmed, his voice finally calm.

“Then don’t call yourself a Park anymore. From now on, you’re on your own. From now on, none of us will help you, care for you, shield you, because you’re not the heir of Parks. Go and live the life you chose. Wish you all the best.”

The line went dead.

He sat in his car, observing the snow fall down and gather on the hood. It would melt easily as the car was still heated up, but Chanyeol felt the stillness surround him, as if he would just bury himself in the snowflakes if given enough time.

But the stillness couldn’t last forever; not yet, not now. He still held the phone in his hand and he knew he needs to act. It was just a matter of time before his family-owned bank account would be suspended. He would be a fool if he didn’t expect that to eventually happen, so he spent the last years gradually transferring money to another account that he owned without his parents’ knowledge. Never too high amounts, knowing that there were no questions he could answer.

Now was the time to see if his efforts paid off.

There was one thing that pumped his adrenaline high, bringing him back to life after the fears and terrors of the past days. Because for the first time in his life, he felt like he was in charge of what was happening; no longer a puppet to his family’s politics, but someone who planned ahead further than his relatives did, and therefore, capable of adjusting to the situation at hand before they could make their steps known.

So, for all he had, with the banking app in his phone, he transferred all that he could without exceeding the imposed limits. That should be enough, right? He could go on with his life. His pride told him, that maybe using his parents’ money after what he’d done was not the right thing to do. But then, he realized, they had no remorse before using his whole life, his emotions, for their business. So maybe there was nothing wrong in taking what they owed him.

And, he promised himself, it would not be the last thing he would take.

Sending a single message with his phone, he turned it off, took out the battery and opened the car’s window, launching the device into the nearby trashcan.

He may have not had anything to do with his family now, but it didn’t mean he had no interests left with them. He had no doubts that the phone could be tracked, and he couldn’t have that.

He arrived back at Yixing’s flat about twenty minutes later, with his arms full of heavy bags and a wide, excited smile on his face that he just couldn’t wipe off.

Yixing was in the kitchen cooking, and his eyes widened at the sight.

“Oh, that’s… more than I asked” he muttered shyly.

“Don’t mind it” Chanyeol shrugged. “I’m trying to repay you for all… that. And, besides, I’ll need to ask you to let us stay over for a few days. I already messaged Junmyeon, but I had to throw out my phone, so he’ll probably text you instead” he spoke while placing down all the bags and starting to cautiously put items in the spots of the small kitchen that he found appropriate. Yixing observed him a bit awkwardly, clearly taken aback by the display of kindness.

“Don’t worry about it” he spoke after a moment. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, I understand that you want to stay with your sister from now on, but what about… you know… him?”

Chanyeol froze with a six-pack of milk in his hands.

“Honestly, I have no idea. You know.”

Yixing already heard some of the story, but Chanyeol trusted him like no one else.

“I really had no idea what would happen. When we found out that they’re together, I was confused too, but dad told me that he took her hostage and was probably planning to blackmail us. And I believed him. Heck, they kidnapped [F/n], of course I believed they’re bad.” He slowly put the six-pack in the fridge, although it would barely fit on the shelf. He only hoped there’s enough space for other things as well. “But then when we got her back, I took her to the car, and she just… When she realized our dad’s going to kill him, she looked completely broken. I mean, who knows, maybe it was Stockholm syndrome or something like that, but hey, they did spend the entire night in that forest, with that nasty weather, and somehow survived. If she didn’t want him dead, why would I? And besides…” Chanyeol hesitated. “It was just easy to believe they’re our enemies, but then I thought, like damn… He’s Baekhee’s brother. How could I let him die?”

“I might just get sentimental.”

They both turned their heads at the sound of a new voice.

Baekhyun stood in the kitchen’s entry, leaning against the doorframe and trying to put his weight on the uninjured leg, but his face was terribly pale and he looked like he could collapse any second.

“You can’t get up” Yixing protested right away, but it wasn’t him that Baekhyun’s eyes were fixated on. Chanyeol stared back, his face a bit tense, but it was as if some kind of mutual understanding started growing between the two. It was Baekhyun that broke the silence.

“Baekhee told me about you. She once sneaked out of family dinner to meet you. My parents were so mad” he spoke with a small smile appearing on his face. “I covered for her, though. You two are close, aren’t you?” Without waiting for Chanyeol to confirm, he continued. “You want to save her.”

“Don’t you, too?” Chanyeol asked. Although the answer was obvious, the question carried much more weight – it wasn’t meant to negate Baekhyun’s bond with his sister. In other words, it meant about the same, as: do you want to save her, together?

“We will save her” Baekhyun replied without an ounce of hesitation. “And we will all get out of here. All four of us. No more old money, no more of this cruel theater. Are you in, Park Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol couldn’t help but smirk a little, although he knew that the offer is fully serious.

“No longer a Park. But I’m in. Let’s do it.”

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it’ll help me a bunch!

Author’s note: Ahhhh this felt so good to finish up! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and still have the patience to wait for the next ones~!