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paigedarling0506 · 9 months

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Ephemeral: Chapter 05

Village Entrance ❁

*.☽.*

This is insane.

If there was one thing that I had never imagined to happen to me, it would be this. Walking casually with a celebrity.

The first few minutes of the hike were quiet. I was normally shy around people and being with someone as famous as him was a whole new level.

I made sure to avoid any eye contact. I had to be careful that I wouldn't be gawking at him and trip myself along the way because that would be the next level of embarrassment as well.

"How did you know this place?" I heard him ask, breaking the ice.

"My mom used to take me and my sister here when we were younger," I replied without looking at him and concentrating on my steps instead.

"Before you moved to Australia right?"

I nodded, amazed by the thought that he still remembered.

"You remembered?" I couldn't help but ask. "That I'm from Australia, I mean."

"Yeah." He replied briefly. "I remember what I want to remember I guess." He went on, ending his remark with a small smile.

Wow, he certainly knows how to carry conversations like this. I, on the other hand, could only turn away to hide the amusement in my face.

"This place used to be famous, a lot of people went here," I told him, trying to get over his previous remark. "I remembered greeting a lot of hikers along the way. It was what we considered an ultimate healing place..." I trailed off feeling nostalgic and a little bit sad about what the place had become. "It's way too different now."

"Too bad, I wasn't able to see how it was before." He replied.

"Yeah...but how about you?" I asked causing him to glance at me. "I mean, I don't understand what you're doing in this town. And of all places, the old hiking place."

"Well, a friend of mine used to live here." He answered briefly. "Before I got scouted by my agency a few years ago, we used to come up here a lot. But it wasn't so famous anymore when I first got here."

"So does your friend still live here?"

"Not anymore. He moved to the US. He works there now."

"And you still come here because?"

I heard him take a deep breath and I kind of got the feeling that I must be going overboard.

"I hope I am not prying too much." I got worried. "You don't have to answer that question if you don't want to," I told him defensively.

He chuckled, his eyes lingered on mine for a second.

"Can I ask you a favor...Haewon?" He trailed off.

It still feels weird hearing him mention my name.

"If you don't mind, of course."

"What is it?"

"Well, it's uhm..." He made sure to meet my eyes before he hesitantly smiled at me. "Will you please relax around me?" He said.

"Hah, that's not an easy one," I answered briefly.

"Ah, is it too much to ask?"

I sensed how much effort he was exerting to be friendly and make the situation comfortable between us so I smiled at him.

"I'll try my very best," I told him and I got a wide smile plastered on his face as a reply. "I'll try to forget that your popularity is out of this world..." I went on, unable to stop myself from smiling more.

He nodded as he let out a small laugh at what I just said.

"Out of this world? I'm afraid that's a bit of exaggeration..."

"You know it's not." I insisted, feeling a bit comfortable now.

We both chuckled as we made eye contact.

"I still come here because it's peaceful here." He stated, answering my previous question. "Away from the prying eyes of the public. I mean, I love what I do...it's just that you know, you gotta breathe and stay from all the frenzy from time to time. So, I always make sure to find my way up here when I am free. To keep my sanity in check."

"You must be very busy," I commented.

"Busy is a good thing for my profession." He replied.

I just threw him an unsure look since I didn't quite know how to respond to his last statement.

*.☽.*

We continued to hike until we reached the top spot. The sun would be setting soon and the sky was getting ready for it. Pink, orange, and yellow colors filled most parts of the sky turning it into a marvelous canvas.

It was indeed a perfect sunset afternoon.

"It's beautiful up here." I couldn't help but admire the view.

I inhaled the fresh air with my eyes closed, making sure I get the most out of this moment. I concentrated on the sound being offered by my surroundings. The wind, the rustling of the leaves of the trees, and the birds. The kind of solace I only get to experience up here.

I didn't hear any response from him which made me wonder. I opened my eyes and looked in his direction only to find out that he was already looking at me.

I suddenly got so conscious. I knew I needed to say something before my face turns into a strawberry again.

"Do I still have something on my face?" I asked, hesitantly lifting my hand to wipe my face.

He laughed briefly as he shook his head sideways.

"You're right." He nodded. "It's beautiful." He paused, his lips stretching into a small upward curve. "Very beautiful." He added, his eyes on me before he turned his attention to the sky stretched in front of us.

If he were just any ordinary man, I'd think that he was asking me to read between the lines. However, he wasn't. It felt wrong for me to even think about anything.

I watched him as he removed his cap, spread his hands sideways, and took a deep breath with his eyes closed.

"I like this." He muttered. "I wish I could take this home with me."

"It won't fit in your car, you know," I replied smiling.

He must have been surprised by my attempt to be funny. He opened his eyes and immediately turned to me.

"That's a really good way to spoil this moment, you know." He sighed dramatically. "Why do you have to do that?"

He pouted as if trying to look hurt as he exhaled sharply.

I knew he was pretending because it looked fake. I couldn't help but burst into laughter. Now, I got to experience his humor firsthand.

"You're so funny," I said as I continued laughing at him.

He looked so cute even now as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah, I've been told many times." He replied proudly with a wide smile on his face. "I'm glad I was able to make you laugh." He added as he wore his cap again.

I was aware that he had his eyes on me while I tried to stop laughing.

"This makes me want to make you laugh more." He said, his voice just above a whisper.

"What?" I asked, unsure of what I heard.

"Nothing." He replied with a chuckle.

He stretched his hand between us. I didn't take it, I threw him a puzzled look instead.

"Byun Baekhyun." He introduced.

I smiled as I realized what was he trying to do.

"I already know your name." I told him emphasizing the word 'already'.

He didn't answer and just kept his extended hand between us. He waited for me to take it.

"Park Haewon," I said finally taking his offered hand with mine.

"I already know your name." He said trying to copy how I said it earlier, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

We both chuckled as we let go of each other's hands.

"How often do you go up here?"

The question came from him.

"Not regularly," I answered. "Only when I feel like it."

"I came back here two weeks ago." He told me casually. "I thought I'd see you again."

I didn't know why but something tugged behind my chest upon hearing his words. Though I wasn't sure if he was being serious. However, I was amazed by how straightforward he was.

"But you weren't here that time." He added before turning to the beautiful sunset. "So, I thought I'd never see you again..."

He got me speechless and it took every ounce of energy I have to force myself to reply.

"Why?" It was all I could muster.

His eyes found their way to meet mine again but he didn't say anything for a moment.

"Well...that's -" He finally uttered but I decided to cut him mid-sentence.

"Are you going to sue me?!" I blurted out.

"What?" He sounded so shocked, an amused expression painted all over his face.

"Gosh, how could I be so slow? Of course, you wanted to see me because of that-" I stopped when I saw him burst to laugh beside me.

"You're..." He paused as he continued to laugh, his hands on his stomach. "You're funny too."

I wasn't being funny so I don't quite understand why he was laughing this hard.

When he noticed that I looked like a confused statue next to him, he straightened his posture and stopped laughing.

"How could you think that I wanted to see you just to sue you?" He asked trying to stifle a smile.

"Well, given the circumstances last time. You had all the right to sue me. I mean you almost fell because of me and your hand, damn- your hand, I felt so guilty when I saw you playing the piano-"

"I just want to see you." He interrupted. "I just wanted to see you again so I drove all there straight from recording two weeks ago."

"Why would you want to see me again?" I asked absentmindedly.

He shrugged and just smiled at me.

Wow, that was vague. I thought. He just gave me a new subject to overthink.

Though, if I would be honest with him right now, I'd tell him how I went up here the very next day expecting to see him again. But then it would be awkward for me to reveal that information to him right now.

"My teenage cousin likes you very much by the way." I blurted out of nowhere. "Like really really like you."

"Ah really?" He asked smiling so hard, his eyes turned into crescents.

He must have been pleased by what he heard.

"I can see your cousin has very good taste." He added as he straightened his posture and raised his chin.

I couldn't help but laugh at his sudden confidence.

"Yes," I uttered. "You got her jumping and shouting one time when you guested on a show."

He laughed.

"Did you watch too?"

"Huh?"

I was caught off guard.

"Did you watch me too?"

"Well..." I trailed off, hesitant. "That was the first time I saw and recognized who you were, so yes, I watched you too."

He smiled as he tilted his head down.

"So, do you like me?"

I heard him ask and my eyes couldn't help but grow wide while I almost choked at his question.

"I mean, as a singer, you know my songs and stuff. What I do." He explained with a lopsided smile.

"Ah.." I muttered, realizing what he meant. "Well..." I trailed off.

I took my phone out and showed him my playlist.

I saw a big smile spreading on his face when he found out that most of his songs were saved on my playlist.

"Congratulations! You got yourself a new fan mister." I told him using my perfect Australian accent.

"Really?"

I nodded in response.

"Well, in that case..." He trailed off.

He typed something on my phone before something inside his jeans pocket rang which I guessed was his phone. My forehead creased waiting for him to explain what he had just done.

"As my new fan, I'm rewarding you with my precious number."

"What?!" I almost laughed at what he said.

"You're welcome." He said as he handed the phone back to me.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded.

"Dead serious."

"Aren't you scared I might be a criminal? Or a crazy person?" I asked him, unbelievably. "I could sell your number and make money out of it, you know," I told him in a matter-of-factly tone.

"Will you do that?" He suddenly sounded and looked so serious.

"No, of course, I was just joking," I replied immediately, intimated by how he looked at me.

He smiled.

"You're too pretty to be a criminal, you should know that."

I didn't know why I smiled after hearing it from him. It was as if it came out naturally like it was the best thing I should do and I wasn't able to stop it.

"Especially when you smile like that." He added.

"You should stop saying things like that to me or my face will turn into a strawberry any moment from now." I blurted out.

"Well then, I guess you haven't found out what my favorite fruit is yet." He replied grinning, looking a little too happy.

I would be lying if I said I was not beginning to grow fond of his smile.

"Do you usually give out your number this easily?" I asked, desperate to distract myself.

He let out a small laugh as he shook his head.

"So, why did you just give it to me like that?"

"Hm, I wonder why." He shrugged before he proceeded to shove his hands inside his pockets.

*.☽.*

We both witnessed the lights of the houses from the small community turn on and we both admired its beauty.

"I live in one of those houses," I said pointing to it.

"Will I be able to figure out which one?" He asked sounding serious.

"The one with the lights on?" I replied smiling.

He knew I was teasing him so he tilted his head down for a moment probably to hide his amusement.

After a few minutes of small talk, we decided to descend. He also received a phone call which I was guessing would be from his manager asking his whereabouts.

*.☽.*

He was standing and holding the door of the passenger's seat.

"Just the entrance of the village, okay?" I reminded him as I sat in the passenger's seat of his car.

He chuckled before closing the door. I watched him walk and enter the driver's seat.

For a second, I was distracted by how good his car smelled. It has a clean, masculine fragrance which I must note suited him. I would have indulged in it more if not for him occupying the driver's seat.

I must have gone crazy for a moment as I thought that I had never seen a guy this good-looking while fastening his seat belt on.

"And no getting off the car," I blurted out, wanting to conceal my admiration.

"Yes Ma'am," He smirked. "I remembered everything perfectly." He told me with a glance, while he revved the engine on. "I am aware of what I must exactly do if I wanna do this again."

Seriously, what I am doing inside Jihye's Ultimate Idol's car? She would kill me if she knew.

And did he just say he wants to do it again?

*.☽.*

As agreed, he stopped the car when we were about to enter the entrance of the town.

"I just want to tell you that you don't have to worry about this. I won't tell anyone about you." I said out of nowhere since it felt like I had to assure him about the matter. "Not even my cousin who is crazy about you."

"I know." He replied briefly, seemingly a hundred percent convinced. "I appreciate it. Thanks."

"Thanks for helping me too," I said as I unfastened the seatbelt. "I couldn't imagine how sore my legs would be if you weren't there."

"Don't forget to have your bike fixed then."

"My Uncle's the best mechanic in town, don't worry." I boasted.

"Wow thanks for the TMI." He teased before he grinned, "Congratulations!"

I just laughed at his remark before getting out of his car and I walked to the compartment to get my bike.

"Are you sure you don't need any help with your bike? That's heavy." I heard him asking inside the car.

"I'm okay, I'm a strong woman, you know!" I replied a little louder making sure he'd hear me.

He laughed aloud.

"If you're strong, shouldn't you be scared of bugs?" He replied trying to copy my accent.

I momentarily closed my eyes as I chuckled.

"That's not fair! That's a totally different story!" I rebutted as I finally unmounted the bike from the compartment.

He was right, the bike was heavy and my hands hurt after the whole process. I'm thankful he didn't see how awkward I looked during the process.

I tagged my bike along with me as I walked and stopped next to the driver's seat where he had the windows rolled down.

"Have a good night..." I paused for a while debating if I should call him by his first name but he seemed to be waiting for it. "Baekhyun."

"Will I see you again?" He asked frankly and out of nowhere.

"Maybe?" I answered.

"Maybe is enough." He smiled.

"Good night Hae Won." He bid, leaving me with his beautiful smile, before driving away.

I watched his car fade away from my sight.

"Good night Byun Baekhyun." I muttered before I turned around and started to go my own way. *.☽.*

#baekhyun #baekhyun fic #bbh #exo #kpop imagines #writing #writing fanfic #byun baekhyun #baekhyunxoc #baekhyun fluff #ephemeral baekhyun #ephemeral #fanfiction #fanfic #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfiction

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suuho · 15 hours

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stand outs: starlight, remember, empty

here we go. another year, another jongdae album to pour over. i really think there is nothing this man cannot do, and after offering us a new perspective of himself on his japanese debut album, jongdae is back with his fourth korean mini album (the exo soloist with the most album releases beneath his belt, at that! except for, of course, yixing, but he's doing his own thing anyway) and true to form, as ever. if you love jongdae, you will love this album. if you don't know him, you can just dive into this headfirst and will get all the facets of his work as a soloist.

empty is the title track and, as per usual, the opener of the album. when i clicked play on this music video, my breath literally stopped. jongdae is a supportive player to the grief of others, a silent safe space in a world that pushes forward despite the loss, by remembering people and the love they have lost. he is in his own my liberation notes, a gentle guidance for those who grief, with a voice so soft and so ephemeral, he should be from another world altogether. it is almost like he is speaking here, accompanied by a beautiful string set and a song that rises and falls like the waves come to the shore. i was a mess at the end of the music video, and i keep lingering on this song because it is so genuinely beautiful and understated. this time, he does not mourn by himself, but offers a perspective for others, too. the time that stopped on that difficult day, is finally passing by. his voice wraps gently around the vowels, and never leaves you wanting more. instead, it is like a hug. at the end of this, i was a mess.

dandelion is the second track, in the same vein as empty, employing largely the same soundscape and genre. baekhyun wrote part of the lyrics for this, alongside jongdae (who wrote every song on the album). heart-wrenching and melancholic, jongdae does what he does best, and sings of loss and love in his most comfortable, most beautiful register. his voice takes a backseat in these first songs, as much as it can anyway, in terms of range but instead, he focuses on emotion. with a singer as capable as he is, it is pleasant to just listen to him. we don't need bells and whistles and this song doesn't require them. instead, he beautifully harmonizes with himself, and layers his vocals on top of a lonely piano accompanying him. dandelion bridges the space between empty and ushers us into the loftier part of the album by leaving traces of softly shaped notes linger in the margins.

we move towards playlist, the only feature on the album. i was a little put off by the effect on HAON and BE'O's voices because i do not necessarily think they fit into the world of jongdae's songs, but you get used to it really quickly. this is a light, breezy, summery tune and jongdae navigates it loftily and easily. i love his voice in songs like this, this r&b infused lightness suits him so well. it is something people would never associate with him on first glance, considering his osts and overall title tracks, but is really firmly represented in his discography. we've got vibes of this on last scene already. this is just a fun and chill song, low stakes. like a breather after the heartbreak of empty and dandelion.

fall in love again is such a good track, very poppy but with those fun piano bits and an infatuating rhythm (hello to whoever recorded the drums for this). jongdae should really, really give band-music another try, because it was wasted on just one japanese album. fall in love again is so infectious and fun, and he does this really fun run before the last chorus and some of his best adlibs are on this song. also, who doesn't love a married man singing about falling in love in the same relationship again? hello commitment! j'adore.

honestly, fall in love again only falls a little short because it is directly followed by the best song on the album. starlight is a laid-back, softly-sung midtempo-ballad that is so gorgeous, it is really like watching a painting come to life. something truly, deeply ephemeral, something beyond, and even further beyond the starlight. this is a song that is so deeply yearnful, jongdae's voice full of longing as he soars into this chorus with an ease that can only come from years of singing, years of loving, and years of being just deeply human. the horn section at the end of this song gives me chills. it actually makes me mad how good this song is, it is like this entire album builds up to this. one of jongdae's most heartfelt vocal performances, one of his most touching songs. the one subject that is so woven through this entire album is loss and grief, and i would have not expected that? and starlight feels like the culmination of this. vocally, it feels like he is trying to reach somewhere he cannot touch by hand. as if his voice could do that, and it leaves you breathless. i have replayed this over and over already, and it still does not feel like it is enough.

remember, or reminisce is the last track on door (which is peculiar because last scene also had a track called reminisce as the second-to-last track) and it is a song that gently takes all your grief, and all the regret, and all the hurt and mixed feelings, and wraps them up to carry them for you, even for just a moment. there is something so fleeting yet so resigned about jongdae's voice here, like you can hardly grasp him in his memories. i love this song, i love how every song on this album sits very comfortably in jongdae's voice, offering some beautiful lows as well as very full highs. this is a very singer-songwriter album for him, while still speaking to his ballad roots. remember is the song that binds all of it together, the more ballad-y tracks and the easier, breezier songs with the sweeping emotions of loss throughout this entire album. the guitar here is the only accompaniment, much like the piano in dandelion, and it gives jongdae's voice the room it deserves. some lovely harmonization is done here, too, but most of all this song just lives from jongdae's vocal performance, which is nothing but perfect. it is enviable how smoothly this man commands a vocal booth. he could have probably recorded much of this in one take.

door is a very solid, very well-done album of an artist that knows exactly who he is, what he wants, and what he does best - and likes to do the most, as well. as a whole, i might prefer this to last scene, even though it moves largely in the same spheres, or maybe that is just my recency bias talking. who knows! i do not think any of this album is boring, by the way. whoever says this might just not be a fan of this sort of music, but it is neither only ballads nor just jongdae hitting high notes over and over. this album tells a story of grief and longing and it does so beautifully. the visualization of it makes sense, too, the understated browns and the blacks. like jongdae is a timekeeper of the grieving, if you will. i think it is a beautiful, solid, very sophisticated work and i hope jongdae loves this album and is so proud of it. he deserves to be. very little to add here except that he remains my favorite exo soloist, and has just cemented his position once more.

#jongdae #door #kaz talks #haven't done an album review in AGGGGES but i have been listening to this album all day and i love it so much #i have so many thoughts about this!!!

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 months

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HEARTSTEEL - "PARANOIA"

youtube

Anna S. brings us another League of Legends tie-in...

[5.33]

Katherine St Asaph: Given that each ephemeral member of this hypothetical boy band corresponds to a League of Legends champion, "they're praying for the death of a rockstar" is indeed an accurate description of the gameplay. Somehow that literal meaning makes the song's meaning -- fame can suck, haters are known to hate -- even less compelling. [4]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: To what do we owe the joy of hearing Baekhyun fuckin' SING like this--perhaps his freedom from SM's vocal strictures? His chorus on Heartsteel's "Paranoia" is a gear I don't think he's used before, an effective confidence. The song is totally fun--they've competently executed a gleeful K-pop himbo vibe despite Baekhyun being the only actual K-pop person involved. Riot Games nailed the casting as well, with a great interplay between Baekhyun's anchor chorus and the verses--especially Cal Scruby's lackadaisical drawl on the first, a great foil to Baekhyun's tension. The whole thing gives the effect of barreling precariously around a cartoon racetrack with your bros, which is surely intentional. Anyway, "Paranoia" is basically a [7], but I'm adding a discretionary parasocial point. [8]

Anna Suiter: Aphelios and Yone were robbed, and doesn't Kayn's voice have a little too much editing on it? I think it would've been nice if they had given Ezreal a high note, but I'm glad they gave K'sane the bridge. Hope Riot doesn't keep them in the dungeon for three years like they're doing with K/DA right now! [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: At least K/DA had hooks! [2]

Will Adams: Pop stars > rock stars. We've been over this. [4]

Taylor Alatorre: Props to the producers for not simply churning out the MGK/Mod Sun/Yungblud type beat that the "death of a rock star" lyricism was screaming for. They also understand the importance of proportion and negative space in making big sounds sound big and not just cluttered. Even more so than the fictional boy band in Pixar's Turning Red, the cast members of Heartsteel could not possibly cohere as a group in real life, which ironically gives the proceedings an air of whimsy and even relative freedom that belie the song's origins in demographic dial-turning. Baudrillard be praised -- hyperreality still has its uses. [8]

Michael Hong: Not sure anyone here qualifies for "rockstar" status, but sure, go ahead. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: Telling this is a virtual boyband animated properly with actual different members. They think I'll fall for Gorillaz but good because Tobi Lou is in it. They're right. It's a problem. [6]

Ian Mathers: The odd joke I've made over the years notwithstanding, I genuinely haven't encountered much of anything in music that makes me feel like I Don't Understand the Kids These Days. That's true of the actual *music*, at least. The increasingly common move, post-Gorillaz/Studio Killers/etc., of having that music represented by animations does feel like there's a generation gap of some kind there (especially and specifically in the form of video game characters, even more so than the whole VTuber thing). I just can't find anything to get a grasp on, and while I'm not fully a "digital native" (sigh), I say that as someone who's had online personas since I was prepubescent. From the perspective of the artists, I do understand how you might want to avoid the downsides of fame and fandom in our current era; from the bosses' side, I get that increased fungibility and brand loyalty are their own rewards. But even if I liked the song a lot more, even if it was a lot less generic, even if "ft. BAEKHYUN, tobi lou, ØZI, and Cal Scruby" meant something more to me than "this could be a throwaway joke from Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping," I just don't think I could ever be interested in the music-video exploits of a bunch of Fortnite skins. And if that's just one more demarcating line where I'm sitting on the Old side, well, death comes to us all eventually. [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#heartsteel #league of legends #music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

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taevestr · 2 years

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Baekhyun fanfiction recommendations

Hello guys.. I want to recommend my favorite fanfics although you've probably read many of them already!

oneshots:

series:

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breakyeol · 3 years

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don’t look away

one shot

┗ pairing: xiumin / reader (ft. baekhyun)

word count: 5k

warnings: no plot, no thought, just pure smut, min exposes everyone, explicit unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), dom!xiumin, a singular spank, biting, edging, voyeurism, mild choking, exhibitionism, manhandling, masturbation

a/n; sometimes, my own writing gets to me. this was definitely one of those times. I swear I’m not a sub but dom!minseok does things to me. also, another drabble turned one shot. couldn’t be helped.

“W- we shouldn’t.” It’s a weightless opposition. You know because you feel the weakness of the words on your own lips.

Beside you, Xiumin only chuckles, a low, breathless sound that caresses to the curve of your throat and sends chills down your spine. “And why not?”

You swallow thickly, eyes briefly flicking towards his closed bedroom door.

“What if they hear?”

Fucking at Minseok’s place always came with risks. With three flat mates and five other friends that seemed to be over so often they might as well just start paying rent, you never quite knew when you were alone. Up until that point, you’d managed not to be caught in the act by mainly having sex at you place, or doing it at his only when you were certain no one was home and wouldn’t be. And by having a bit of dumb luck, of course.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the whole lot of them were camped out in the living room, playing video games, watching movies, and eating their weight��s worth in fast food. Until about five minutes ago, you’d been out there with them, laughing, chatting, and just having a damn good time. But then, Minseok decided he was tired of not having your full attention and dragged you into his bedroom, throwing out some dumb excuse over his shoulder when Chanyeol had noisily complained about being in the middle of a round of Mario Cart with you.

You should have suspected that he’d want more than innocent cuddles.

“They won’t,” he hums, rough fingers creeping up to grip your jaw and turn your face towards his, “unless…” his lips graze yours and you shiver, “you don’t think you can keep quiet.”

There’s no denying the desire you feel stirring to life inside of you, hot and demanding as it spreads through your body.

The thing about Minseok was, when he wanted something, he could be incredibly convincing. Not that you really needed all that much to begin with… you were always weak for the man, weak for his touch, weak for his kiss. And when he was looking at you with those eyes, dark and pooling with lust, you wanted nothing more than to give him every last thing he desired.

“I— I can.” You whisper after a short pause, unable to tear your gaze from the tempting curve of his pink lips as they twist into a dangerous smirk.

“Good.”

He’s barely gotten the word out before his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding. You gasp out a moan, hands surging up to clutch at the thick material of his oversized black sweatshirt. Heat consumes you as he presses forward, wasting no time deepening what is already a mind numbing kiss.

Rough hands tug at your hips, and all at once you’re on his lap. The transition happens so quickly, you barely manage to grasp onto his shoulders to keep from losing your balance. A soft groan rumbles through his chest as you settle fully onto his lap, unable to help the slow grinding of your hips at the feeling of him, already half hard and thick beneath you.

Even from within the confines of his thick sweats, you swear you can feel every hot inch of him. The thought alone has you keening, fingers burying themselves in his thick hair as a wordless plea shudders from your throat.

“Min,” you whisper unsteadily, rolling your hips once more in search of even a little friction, something, anything to soothe the unrelenting ache in your core.

“What?” He chuckles against your mouth, squeezing at your ass roughly. “Want more?”

“Please.”

That seemed to be the magic word, because you can only squeal as Minseok abruptly flips you onto your back, crawling on top of you with a feline grin and a predatory glint in his hooded eyes. Arousal burns inside of you, so hot that a part of you fears that you might burst into flames right then and there.

He reconnects your lips in one swift movement, and you moan, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. Electricity crackles through your veins as he suddenly slots his hips up against yours, grinding down against you hard enough that you have to break away from his kiss to gasp in a breath.

“Min— fuck—” your voice trembles from your lips, strained from the effort of trying to keep your volume low. It doesn’t help that Minseok has redirected his attention to your throat, licking and biting all of the places that make your head spine.

You feel his hands, feel the way they map the shape of your body, caressing the curve of your waist and the flow of your hips. The pads of his fingers are rough and calloused against your skin, but you love the way it hurts, love the harsh gentleness of his touch and the way you can still feel the lingering remnants of it even once his hands have ventured elsewhere.

Your shirt goes first, tossed off somewhere into the expanse of his bedroom. Your leggings follow suit, leaving you in nothing but your sports bra and underwear. Both tight, black, and unwanted nuisances within the haven of these four walls.

A soft groan rumbles in the depths of his chest, and his mouth drops to suck and nip at the flesh of your breast. Your head rolls back, fingers sinking into his thick locks. His mouth feels so good against your skin, each flick of his tongue and press of his pretty lips sending sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your core. And it only intensifies as he begins a slow descent down the length of your body.

His lips tickle over your stomach, your back arching as he slips between your thighs. You feel the heat of his breath against your clothed cunt, your hips bucking instinctively in search of friction. He pins them back down, shooting you a warning glare that has arousal flaring up dangerously inside of you.

“Be patient.” He reprimands in a low whisper, though there’s something teasing in the way he purrs the words that tells you he’s not really all that angry.

You nod, but eagerly spread your legs, hoping he’ll have mercy. The corner of his mouth twists at the shameless display and you barely have time to process the glint in his eyes before his tongue is on your skin, tracing slow, sensual circles against the inside of your thigh. “Oh—” your muscles shudder and you sink your teeth roughly into the flesh of your lower lip to keep a moan from escaping.

Minseok forces your legs further apart, dark eyes honing in on the black fabric of your panties and the way they cling to your slick heat. Need coils in your gut, walls clenching around nothing as he licks his lips, a familiar hunger igniting across his handsome features.

“Look at you…” he coos, dragging a single finger down your clothed slit, “already making such a mess of yourself.”

Your nails bite into the soft sheets as your body shakes, muscles tensing uncontrollably with the overwhelming desire that surges through you like white hot electricity. “Min, please don’t tease me right now.” You plead in a breathless whisper, voice quivering while you watch him tease at the tight elastic of your underwear.

“Beg a little more,” he moans lowly, pressing an all too quick kiss to where he knows your clit is, “I like how desperate you are for me.”

You give in easily, far too turned on to feel even the slightest twinge of embarrassment. “Please, fuck— please, Min. I need it so bad. Need your mouth. You always make me feel so good, baby, please.” Minseok groans hoarsely, reveling in your shameless desperation.

“Were you thinking of me out there? Thinking of my mouth while you played with my friends?” His lethal mouth grazes your cunt as he speaks, the heat of his words pouring onto your lust like gasoline onto flames.

You shake your head, gasping at an ephemeral press of his lips. “N- no.”

“Liar.”

You don’t have time to react to the defamation before his teeth are sinking into the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, deep enough that you’re certain the indents will remain for hours to come. A sob is wretched from your throat, but you’re quick to muffle it beneath the palm of your hand, praying that none of the other boys heard your unintentional outburst.

“Be honest, love.” He coos darkly, soothing over his bite with a slow drag of his tongue. Sucking your lips into your mouth, you nod quickly, wanting for nothing more than to please him. “You were thinking of me.”

It’s not a question. But still, you breathe out a small, “yes.”

“You were thinking of my mouth.”

You gasp as he slips a finger beneath the crotch of your panties, tugging it to the side and revealing your soaking core to his ravenous gaze. “Yes.”

“Thinking of coming on my tongue.”

Your back arches, thighs squeezing around his shoulders as he licks a thick, wet strip up your dripping slit. “Yes!”

He scoffs, meeting your unfocused eyes from between your hips. “How filthy.”

And then his mouth is on you. You nearly cry out in relief, but somehow manage to trap the pathetic sound behind tightly clenched teeth. The unexpected rush of pleasure is enough to make you dizzy, the insatiable way he’s eating your cunt making it damn near impossible to keep your voice down.

Oh god, it feels so good.

The hand not being used as a muffler shoots down between your legs, burying itself in Minseok’s hair, desperate for something to cling to. Minseok makes no complaints, quite the contrary actually, the fervor with which he’s devouring you increasing tenfold.

This is dangerous. You’re not going to be able to keep quiet. They’re going to hear you. Fuck, if he keeps licking at your clit like that— you’re not going to be able to keep quiet.

His tongue swirls, his lips encircling your sensitive bud. That in itself has you shaking and keening, the pleasure going straight to your head. But when he adds the faintest pressure of his teeth and suction— your jaw drops, hips snapping up against his mouth, rolling frantically against his tongue as you are thrust closer and closer to your release.

“Oh fuck, I’m—”

At your hoarse, unfinished warning, he abruptly pulls away, your walls clenching and hips jerking frantically in search of that last bit of pressure that would push you over the edge. A broken whimper rips from your throat, desperate pleas rushing from your lips. He hushes you with a soothing kiss, intertwining his hands with yours and pressing them to the mattress on either side of your head.

“Easy, love,” he hums chidingly, nipping gently at the raw flesh of your lower lip, “don’t want you coming just yet, now do we?”

“Fuck you.” You groan in lieu of a proper response.

A low laugh rumbles in his chest, his face lowering into the juncture of your throat where he presses slow, feathery kisses. “Get on your hands and knees… and I’ll do just that.”

For a moment, your mind went blank— just long enough for Minseok to grow impatient and take matters into his own hands.

You can only squeal as he suddenly plants his hands on your waist and flips you over with a roughness that is only brought out of him by the intoxicating, mind-altering cocktail of lust and desperation.

“Fuck, I need you so bad.” He growls, bruising grip forcing a broken whimper from your throat.

The sound of his belt coming undone has you clenching around nothing, wetness leaking from you core and glistening on the insides of your quivering thighs.

“Look at you,” he purrs in a low whisper, and you shiver as he glided two fingers through your slit, “fucking dripping for me.”

Hot need rips through you.

“Min.” You moan, fisting at his soft sheets “Fuck me.”

Patience has never been one of your virtues either.

Chuckling at your shameless desperation, Minseok pushes up against you, wet tip teasing at your entrance. The friction is less than insubstantial, nowhere near enough to satisfy the angry flames in your belly. Whispering a weak plea, you press your hips back, only to yelp as he delivers a sharp slap to your ass.

“Don’t be so fucking needy.” He taunts, smirking sadistically as you shudder and moan, leaking sticky arousal all over his cock.

A sudden round of loud laughter erupts from the living room, barely muffled by the wall separating you from certain exposure. Your head jerks at the sound, pulse spiking at the reminder that you were in fact not alone in his apartment and any noise made above a very specific decibel would most certainly give away to the rest of the boys exactly what filthy things you and Minseok were doing behind his closed bedroom door.

Your concern is short lived, though. Because as soon as he senses you’ve grown distracted, Minseok takes the liberty of thrusting himself into you. He only gives you the first inch or so, but even just that is enough to have you gasping in bliss, fingers curling tightly in his sheets. Behind you, Minseok lets out a hoarse, throaty groan, the heat of your wet core wrapped tightly around his sensitive tip a sensation he can never seem to get used to.

The sounds of your friends’ voices fade further and further from your mind with every shallow thrust of Minseok’s hips, slowly stretching your walls around his dick. It’s a fix you didn’t know you were in such hopeless need of, and now? Now, you just couldn’t get enough.

“More, Min. More, please— I need more.”

A low curse shudders from his lips, hard grip locking onto your hips as he braces his knees on the mattress. You’re barely have time to prepare yourself before he’s fucking into you at a speed that knocks the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Your arms give out, face dropping to the sheets and you quickly bite into it, muffling your moans and whimpers in the thick duvet.

Minseok isn’t all that much better off, fighting to restrain his own sounds of pleasure as your hot walls grip his cock greedily. But still, some leak out, and your arousal spikes at the hoarse groans that bleed through his tightly clenched teeth. You love hearing him, hearing his lust, so violent and uncontainable and contagious. It intoxicates you, polluting your blood with every jagged inhale, every broken gasp. It’s a high like no other and, selfishly, you revel in it.

Your back bows deeply when he presses a hand to it, forcing you down into the mattress as he leans his body over yours, reaching new depths with each sharp, deliberate stroke. In this position, you can see him just over the slope of your shoulder, see the deep furrow of his brow, the upward sneer of his mouth, the tight grip of his teeth on his swollen lower lip. Fuck, he looks so gorgeous like this; skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, tinted a sinful shade of red from the exertion.

Then, his eyes meet yours, and you nearly come undone then and there, the coil in your gut tightening dangerously as he holds your unfocused gaze. You barely notice the smirk that draws at the corners of his mouth, too busy drowning in the concupiscent depths of his stare. Too concerned with the heat consuming your belly to hear the telling click of a door handle being turned.

“Minseokie-hyung, we’re starting a movie do you guys want to—”

You recognize the voice, know even before you raise your head at break-neck speed who you’re going to find standing in the doorway, slack jawed and flushed an almost inhuman shade of pink.

Oh god.

Baekhyun is frozen. You can tell. He’s short circuiting. The look on his face alone tells you that his brain has stopped functioning entirely as his body’s most vital internal organ and his motor reflexes have failed to kick in.

You try to speak, to say something— anything to remedy the situation, to kick-start the poor boy into motion, but words fail you. For whatever reason, you can’t seem to get anything to come out of your useless mouth, and, at first, you can’t figure out why.

Not until you realize—

Minseok hasn’t stopped fucking you.

The movement of his hips hasn’t even faltered, not for a single second. He’s still drilling into you at a rate that robs you of your ability to form coherent speech, pounding at your cunt so roughly that you feel the reverberations of his every thrust rippling through the cells of your very being.

Did he not see him?

One glance over your shoulder tells you Minseok is well aware of Baekhyun’s presence, in fact, his dark gaze is fixated on him, no doubt one of the many things paralyzing the younger boy, rooting him to where he stands.

So… why hasn’t he stopped?

A myriad of emotions rush through you; most prominent among them being confusion, disbelief, and… arousal.

Arousal?

You don’t have time to ponder the unexpected feeling, a particularly harsh thrust of Minseok’s hips wrenching a cry of bliss from your lips.

The sound startles Baekhyun, his body jolting violently as he is ripped from whatever trance had taken hold of him. He whirls around, hands flying to cover his eyes as he gasps out trembling apologies. “I– oh my god, I am so sorry— I’m so sorry, I—” he surges back towards the door, no doubt with every intention of booking it out the sex-tainted bedroom as fast as his legs would take him.

“Stay.”

Baekhyun freezes.

“Stay.” Minseok repeats in a low grunt.

It’s not a request.

You’re too stunned to make sound, not quite understand what was going, but not quite hating it either. Minseok’s hips have eased into a slow grind, allowing you a moment to catch your breath and recuperate after the brutal fucking your pussy had just endured.

“I—” Baekhyun seems to choke on whatever words he’s trying to get out, still not facing you, “I’m sorry, I sh– should have knocked, but I didn’t th—”

“Shut up and close the door.” The growl in Minseok’s voice leaves no room for argument. Baekhyun extends an obedient albeit shaky hand, gently pushing the door short. You swallow thickly, muscles shuddering as Minseok rolls his hips lazily into yours.

“Min, why—”

“Don’t act oblivious.” He all but sneers. “You squeezed me so fucking tight the second you laid eyes on him I thought you were trying to take my dick off. And shit, you were wet before but now…” he lets out a low whistle, settling a rough palm on your ass, “now you’re goddamn gushing.”

Heat rushes to your face and your head drops in shame. Baekhyun twitches upon hearing Minseok’s words, chancing a shy, uncertain glance in your direction before quickly looking away.

“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now,” he scoffs, and you can’t tell if he’s talking to you or Baekhyun until he continues his merciless taunting, “weren’t you the one just ranting about how hot y/n is? How bad you wanted to fuck her?”

“Hyung!” Baekhyun yelps indignantly, eyes wide and cheeks red as he stares at his older friend in disbelief. “I– I was shit faced!”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.” Minseok bites back easily, lips curled into a wicked grin.

The younger opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so he hurriedly shuts it and turns away, glaring at the floor instead.

Now, your interest has peaked.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms, you peer up at the boy still standing on the other side of the room, adamantly avoiding your gaze.

“Baek.” Your voice sounds hoarse and unsteady on your lips, barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to finally draw his attention, a shy upward flit of his eyes bringing them to yours. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, mouth trembling as unmistakable lust clouds his features. You wonder what you look like in that moment, what about you causes that vibrant red to rush up his neck and flood his face, causes him to bite into his lower lip so hard you’re almost certain the skin will break.

Minseok’s hips pulse and you moan softly, not breaking your eye contact with Baekhyun even as a wave of pleasure rolls over you. The younger shudders and swallows, hands curling into tight fists at his sides.

You like that he’s watching. You like that he’s seeing you in such an exposed, vulnerable state, all of your body, all of your need laid bare before him. It feels filthy to have him watch as Minseok fucks into you slowly, deeply from behind, feels dirty to have him watching the way you tremble and keen on his best friend’s thick cock.

But you like it. You really, really like it.

“Baek.” You murmur again, his name sounding like a plea as Minseok begins to pick up the pace once more.

Baekhyun’s chest heaves, his self control crumbling more and more with every sound that escapes your gaping mouth. He doesn’t seem to know where to look, attention jumping noncommittally from your hooded eyes to your swollen mouth to your breasts that bounce every time his hyung buries himself inside of you and lower still, dancing across the supple flesh of your thighs and the glistening heat that lies between them. He lets out an airy whimper, pretty hand twitching towards the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Please… touch yourself.”

The words are out before your brain can condone them, rushing from you in a breathless command. Baekhyun looks like he’s damn near ready to pass out. Regardless, he reaches for his zipper like a man possessed, slowly undoing it with quivering fingers.

Minseok suddenly wraps a strong arm around your waist, tugging you up and flush against his firm, sweat-slick chest. You feel the heat of his body radiating like a furnace, surrounding you and licking at your own naked body. You moan as his mouth falls to the curve of your throat, wet tongue dragging hotly over the perspiring skin. Eyes falling shut, you lean into him, gyrating your hips hungrily over his as you relish in his affections, edging closer and closer to your release.

By the time you reopen your eyes, Baekhyun has already pulled himself from the tight confines of his jeans. He’s pretty, that’s the first thing you notice. You’d never thought of dicks as being pretty in the past, but Byun Baekhyun has a pretty dick. A soft shade of pink and slightly curved, it’s the kind of cock you just wanna shove down your—

“Ah!” You cry out as Minseok suddenly sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck, the pain of his bite intertwining with the pleasure of his length pulsing within your walls, setting your nerves ablaze.

“Look how hard he is, baby. All from just watching you get fucked. You’re putting on a real show for him, aren’t you?” He growls against your throbbing skin, sliding a hand around your throat and squeezing ever so lightly. You can only whimper and nod frantically, watching transfixed as Baekhyun slides a closed fist gingerly down his cock, translucent precum leaking from his slit. His back meets the wall behind him with a soft thud, and he choked on a moan as he caresses his sensitive tip with a light swirl of his thumb.

“Oh fuck.” You pant, gripping onto the thick muscles of Minseok’s thighs, feeling them flex beneath your palms with every sharp thrust. Baekhyun’s hazy eyes find yours, pupils blown into an ocean of blackness within a thin ring of glinting umber. His delicate lips are wide open and gasping out quiet moans, soft cheeks burning with the flames of his lust.

Any shyness gradually fades from him, his reservations melting away the longer he looks at you, the longer he feels himself being intoxicated by the thick waves of shameless pleasure that radiate from you.

His head kicks back with a rasping groan, hips meeting the underside of his fist with each stroke. Still, his heady gaze refuses to break from yours.

“You want that cock, don’t you?” Minseok whispers huskily, lips feathering over the burning shell of your ear, followed by the graze of his teeth.

Something tightens in your gut. “M- Min—”

“You want his cock in your mouth. You want him filling that slutty throat, don’t you, baby?”

His voice is just loud enough to carry over to Baekhyun, and you see the younger boy jerk violently and whimper at the implication of his hyung’s filthy words, desperately speeding up his ministrations.

“Minseok, please—” you gasp, nearly in tears. It’s too much, too good, you won’t last. The pressure of his hand on your throat, his cocked pounding relentlessly into your cunt, the intensity of Baekhyun’s stare as he gets off to the sight of you being fucked stupid by his best friend. It’s too much.

A hand dips between your thighs, rough fingers easily locating your clit and setting to work. “Come on, baby. Cum for me.” Minseok grits, burying his face in your neck. It takes every ounce of self control in you to keep from screaming in pleasure as the full force of your orgasm strikes you. Your back arches, head falling back onto Minseok’s shoulder, nerves crackling with white hot electricity.

Baekhyun quickly covers his mouth as moans begin to pour from his lips, the sight of you coming undone hurdling him head first into his own high. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he hisses, knees buckling and hips stuttering as he spills hot cum over his knuckles.

Pulling out of you with a harsh curse, Minseok flattens a hand against the small of your back and pushes you down to the mattress, until your cheek is pressed to the sheets and your ass is raised in the air. With one last low groan, Minseok strokes himself to completion, releasing all across your arched back. You moan as it splatters messily on your skin, the dominant display making your exhausted core clench around nothing.

There’s a moment of silence, the only audible sounds heavy breathing and the muffled voices of unsuspecting company in the other room. And then, Baekhyun giggles. It’s a light, airy sound, a combination of disbelief and amazement that has your own lips curling lightly because— holy shit, did that really just happen?

Baekhyun hides his grinning lips behind the back of his non-cum covered hand as he speaks, eyes alight with boyish joy. “Wow. That was—”

“Get out of here, Baekhyun.” Minseok huffs, tugging at your legs until you’re laid out flat on your stomach, a much more comfortable position.

“Right, yes, sorry.” The younger boy quickly spins, tucking himself back into his jeans and hurrying back towards the door, only to pause when his clean hand wraps around the doorknob. Turning, he meets your gaze and offers a bashful smile. “T- Thank you.”

A big, lazy grin breaks across your face, a breathless chuckle bubbling in your chest.

“My pleasure, Baek.”

Blushing hotly, he whirls around and disappears out the door, shutting it gently behind him.

There’s a brief lull of silence, and then you break into a fit of laughter. You feel the way Minseok melts behind you at the sound, rough hands turning soft as they rub gently at your thighs— which will most definitely be sore by the morning.

“Don’t move.” He instructs, though any real authority has already leaked from his voice, leaving a gentle request that you’re more than happy to comply with. The bed dips as he moves away from you, taking all his tenderness and warmth right along with him. You shiver in his absence, letting out a grateful hum when he returns with a washcloth saturated with hot water. It feels like heaven as he runs it over your sweat-slick skin, apologizing with only the sweetest of kisses whenever he touches a tender spot and you wince.

“He’s never gonna let this go.” Minseok mutters against the back of your neck, maneuvering the cloth between your spread legs to scrub away any lingering stickiness.

Shuddering at the twinge of stimulation, you sing back playfully, “you’re the one that told him to stay.”

“You’re the one who wanted him to.” He snips.

“Touché.” You accept defeat with ease. No point in arguing with the truth.

Minseok tosses aside the rag once he’s finished wiping you down, and you let him rearrange your bodies until he finds a comfortable position. You end up between his legs, head leaning against his firm chest while he’s propped up against the headboard. Like this, he has no trouble peppering kisses across the slope of your neck and shoulder, fingers dancing across the skin of your belly, tracing miscellaneous shapes and designs.

You know you should probably return to the group occupying the living room. By this point, it would be shocking if they hadn’t grown suspicious of your long absence. But, you aren’t too keen on leaving the warmth of Minseok’s embrace, the idea of abandoning these sex stained sheets becoming less and less appealing with every second that ticks by.

Minseok is the first to pop the comfortable bubble of silence that had fallen over you as he asks, “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod, a small smile upturning the corners of your mouth as you take one of his hands in yours, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “He was cute.”

“Yeah?” He hums, nose tickling your throat. “I’m cuter.”

Laughter trickles from your lips as you murmur your agreement.

“Hey, maybe next time…” you grin mischievously as a thought suddenly strikes you, “he can even touch me.”

You giggle in delight as Minseok growls, hot hand curling around your jaw and tugging your mouth to his, leaving only the slimmest of spaces between your lips as he whispers darkly,

“Not a fucking chance.”

#xiumin fanfic #xiumin smut #xiumin fic #xiumin oneshot #xiumin x reader #minseok x reader #minseok fanfic #minseok smut #xiumin #kim minseok #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo fanfiction #baekhyun smut #Baekhyun fanfic

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sleeping-sirens · 3 years

Text

05 | Underwater

Masterlist

Intro - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight

With their legs tangled and ephemeral warmth to help them get through the long night, Baekhyun and Ara lied under the blanket, eyes closed and hearts ablaze. Their minds danced between rhythms of reality and dreams, unsure of where to settle in.

Although Ara wished to live forever in her dreams, she was atrociously afraid to lose Baekhyun in her reality. Her attempts at pulling herself off the hooks of sleep were all met by failure. What can she do? She was in her favorite place. The place that provided her an immense amount of care, peace, and comfort. She was in the place that filled her with the warmth she always sought and fought for.

She was in her home, inside Baekhyun's arms.

Oh, how beautiful was it to have a home where one could feel nothing but alive.

Her home was Baekhyun and she was already feeling homesick.

In front of her eyes, in a hazy bubble, there she was standing on her feet with her heart beating in her throat. In front of her eyes, Baekhyun slowly faded away as her eyes filled with tears. With a distorted vision, she stood there unable to move a muscle. In front of her eyes, he was drowning in the abyss of a bottomless pool.

Underwater, unreachable, unmoving.

She tossed around in Baekhyun's arms, putting him in an alarmed and worried state. With concern brewing inside him, he gently shook her body.

"Ara." He whispered close to her face, scrutinizing it under the moonlight piercing through the glass windows. Her neck and her cupid bow shined with a layer of cold sweat. "Hey, baby, wake up."

Ara fluttered her eyes open. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest as she fought to take a deep breath. When she looked up, Baekhyun was worriedly gazing down at her. His eyes sparkled with wonderments, and a myriad of questions burned at the tip of his tongue.

"I was having a nightmare." She announced, answering his silently loud questions. Although it was obvious to Baekhyun that she was having a bad dream, he wanted to know more than that.

His gut feeling was giving him stomach-churning ideas that echoed inside his head. He wanted to silence them but he couldn't. He decided to ask first, maybe it was just his mind going crazy.

"Was it about me leaving?" Baekhyun hesitantly asked. His voice came out soft and quiet, he wasn't sure if she heard it. He barely heard himself.

Ara saw a glint of sadness in his eyes, for the first time, ever since the day he announced that his enlistment was soon. She was always the one in need of comfort and consolation. Baekhyun was always the one to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be okay. He was always the one to catch her tears in his palm before they even get to fall.

Now, as she looked deeply into his sullen eyes, her heart broke. Her Baekhyun, who was always the one to keep both of them strong, was caught in a moment of weakness. Her mind couldn't process it. She couldn't stand seeing him this sad, this weak and vulnerable.

Her arms, as if they had a mind of their own, enveloped him in a warm hug.

He breathed out in the crook of her neck as he kept resisting his tears. His breath sent chills to her cold skin. The moment her fingers threaded through his soft hairs, all of his walls came crumbling down. He silently sobbed in her arms, clutching the material of her shirt in his hands.

Inside his destroyed mind, Baekhyun didn't know why he was crying. He felt selfish. He was supposed to be strong for himself and everyone around him. He couldn't grasp the fact that he, too, was bound to break in order to hold the others. He didn't want to cry. He couldn't accept the fact that he was crying.

He told himself that he shouldn't cry. He shouldn't shed a tear at all. It felt unfair, unexpected, and not right. As he let his sobs break free from his lips, his mind couldn't stop running around the same thought : I'm so selfish.

Ara, who was holding all of his broken pieces together, let him cry until a small and shaky puff of breath fled his mouth. "I'm sorry." He chuckled humorlessly, trying to quickly regain his composure. "I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around."

"No." Ara whispered, peeling his face off her neck. She wiped his tears away and kissed him gently on his lips. "It's okay to break down and cry. I know deep down, you're hurt too and you deserve to let your emotions out."

"I feel so selfish," he couldn't help but admit it out loud, a tinge of sadness and conflict driving his voice to an abrupt halt. His tears choked him. A sniffle vibrated from his nose, his eyes jumping everywhere to avoid Ara's questioning gaze.

Her brows knitted and her head tilted to the side. "How can you say that Baekhyun-ee?" There was a sad tone edging her voice as she asked. She inched closer to him. Her question didn't really need an answer to be understood. She knew that Baekhyun's thoughts were all jumbled up into a messy knot.

He wasn't thinking straight and Ara knew that, even if he tried to answer her question, he wouldn't be able to shape understandable and reasonable sentences.

"It's okay to cry. I know you're very sad and I know it's even harder on you than it is on me or anyone else. I know you hate saying goodbye to people you care for. Damn, you even can't sleep anywhere but in your bed, using your own pillow. You don't have to hide your feelings. Just because you're always lighting up the mood everywhere around you doesn't mean that you don't feel sadness or heartbreak."

While she was talking, Ara's hands caressed Baekhyun's hair and cheeks. He listened to her, small sniffles were only echoing around the air along the soft susurration of her voice. His head bobbed up and down like a lost puppy, ears perked up as her soft words flowed through them.

"I've got you, Baekhyun." She kissed his cheek and his eyes closed naturally. He felt her tender touch tickling his skin, making him tremble in her hold. "I've got you, yeah?" She looked deeply into his sulky eyes and offered him a smile, urging him to do the same.

This time, Baekhyun was the one to wrap his arms around Ara. His palm caressed from the top of her head down her back. He silently comforted her, although she forgot completely about the dream she had. She was solely focused on him now.

Nothing else mattered but him.

"Would you like to hop in the shower? I feel sticky." Ara suggested, her voice muffled by his chest.

Baekhyun nodded. They slowly got out of bed, feet gently padding on the floor. Ara reached out her hand for him to hold and he received it with a smile, warmly welcoming her inviting touch.

Once the water turned hot and the room got steamy, they drowned in each other's embraces.

Underwater, on fire, writhing, and coming to life over and over again.

Thank you for reading 🤍

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yeoldontknow · 4 years

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The Edge of Summer

Author’s Note: happy birthday @kyungseokie !! this has been sitting in my wips since january when i attempted to write this for his birthday. and that...came and went like a lightning bolt so here we are. im finally tossing this into the wild! wanted this up an entire hour ago but my internet died so T~T HAPPY BIRTHDAY I LUV U! Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader (oc; female) Universe: this is an installment to the Did You See universe however Kyungsoo does not have a full story. this will be the only story centering on him | you do not need to read the other stories to understand, enjoy, or appreciate this one Genre: friends to lovers; fluff; romance; angst; au Summary: As summer comes to a close, your friends make the annual trek to the lake house for one last hurrah. You’ve done this before - countless times, but this year Baekhyun brings his new girlfriend along with him and this, of course, means some plans have to change. You just have no idea how much will change by the end of the trip. Rating: PG-13 Warnings: some strong language; a lot of lust; baekhyun being the worst wingman to exist; it gets pretty spicy by the end but like..only if you squint? just playing it safe yall Word Count: 13.1K

It is only when Kyungsoo’s hand falls delicately into his lap, fingers grazing your thigh with the aimless of touch of nonchalance that you decide:

If you make it out alive, you are going to kill Baekhyun.

Three hours into the road trip, and you think the conviction of this decision carries with it the bitterness of gunpowder and the relief of satisfaction, two distinct feelings entirely befitting the situation you have found yourself in. A five hour journey is long enough on its own, time blurring seamlessly around you in the close confines of a car - but, when pressed against Kyungsoo like this, against the strong muscles of his arms and thighs, feeling the heat of his warm skin radiating into yours, five hours is centuries of pining. These hours are too long for anyone to survive, the weight of yearning compressing your lungs into phantoms of their former glory, breath too quiet, and too slow, afraid of disrupting the fragile pretense of peace.

Being this close to him, this close to the embodiment of your pining, carries the same impact in your bones as a cataclysm, and so you grimace in dismay, silently aware that you might not even live to make good on your silent promise. Baekhyun will live another day and you will wither amongst the remainder of your desire, buried with yet another promise you failed to keep.

Somewhere in an alternate universe, you are happy, and this happiness comes easily. In a different life, you are comfortable, riding in Chanyeol’s car with him, his girlfriend, and Yixing, listening to the playlist Chanyeol had enthusiastically curated for the journey. You would be laughing, talking, teasing - or, perhaps, none of those things, instead luxuriating the jovial warmth that always seems to bloom in their company, the kind that overtakes you without warning, mind unfocused and hazy with thoughts of freedom.

Instead, your back presses into the middle seat of Junmyeon’s old car, knees and thighs aching with the effort of making yourself small between Kyungsoo and Yixing. Glancing to your right, you eye Yixing’s placidly neutral expression, his unfazed smile as he teases Sehun, reaching forward to ruffle his hair from behind the seat. Briefly, you envy him, his loud laugh and the way things are always uncomplicated for him - the way he always gives over out of love, even if he has the briefest moments of internal protest.

At 8AM, Baekhyun insisted he bring his new fling on this vacation. It was important, he said, his eyes pleading with you and Yixing, the puppy dog expression you'd grown used to fixed securely in his cheeks and pout. Chanyeol’s car would be the couples car, and so it was important he be there to set the mood. Yixing had eyed him amicably, biting the inside of his cheek with an endeared sense of amusement, complaining only because the plush seats of Chanyeol’s car were far more comfortable and because it would insight a brief riot in Baekhyun that served only to amuse him further.

And he conceded almost immediately, an ever supportive wingman, winking at Baekhyun before excusing himself to gather his things.

You, however, protested valiantly, arms crossed over your chest and heart unmoved. Baekhyun pleaded, promised french fry dates and to do your dishes for a week - even though he does not live with you, even though you actually enjoy doing your dishes, and, still, you protested, lips pursed and eyebrow cocked in disdain.

But, standing gracefully in the doorway, the sunlight gliding over his shoulders, craving an angle against his jaw you found almost holy, far too magnificent to be human, Kyungsoo laughed. The deep honey chocolate of his tone brought gooseflesh to your skin, teeth biting down on your tongue to keep your spine from trembling; your favourite laugh, and one he so rarely gives only to you. Behind him, Chanyeol’s tall frame lingered by his car, calling for anyone to get in so he could make his departure, and you think Kyungsoo’s bemused, affectionate smile is really what you agreed to.

Hours of his smile, even if it was put out, even if it was a barely there glimmer of fond annoyance, even if it faded almost as quickly as it came - this is what you agreed to.

Even if it meant letting your own heart break, and mend, and shatter once more, chest tight with the burden of proximity.

‘I can feel you looking at me,’ he mumbles, just softly enough that only you can hear the dulcet nature of his voice, teasing and sharp.

Shifting beneath your gaze, his arm nudges gently into yours, soft and supple and smooth, the cotton of his white shirt reduced to little more than rough muslin in comparison. He keeps his head turned as he looks out the window, one hand in his lap while the other holds his chin in its palm, trees and grass streaking past beneath an endless expanse of blue sky. Sunlight pours through the window onto him, casting shadows along his jaw and cheeks that somehow make the curvature of his lips ever more pronounced in profile.

Around you both, conversations live and die, the rippling cadence of Yixing’s laugh losing its edges as you continue to stare, unblinking, at the hard edge of Kyungsoo’s jaw.

‘Is there something you want?’ At this, he directs his attention to you, your dry mouth and unwavering gaze, hand still cradling his chin as he regards you expectantly.

His eyes move over you slowly, taking their time getting acquainted with your features in this light. You feel him where you never feel anyone - all over you, yet ephemeral and nowhere at all, this kind of touching a mystery that runs deep. In a single moment, he is both above and beneath you, walking over the map of your skin and treading just below the surface, the blood in your veins rushing to your heart in celebration. The air in the small car becomes thin, lungs tight and breath constricted. Your hands curl into fists, pressing nails into the muscle of your mount of Venus, but it is not in frustration or fear, rather, instead, the only way you know how to suppress this insurmountable adoration.

By stopping the surrender before it starts, you do not even have the choice to give in.

Perhaps, in the same life in which you are riding in Chanyeol’s car you are also bold, brave enough to give him the best words, the most beautiful words, the ones you keep perpetually beneath your tongue, waiting. How would he look in the aftermath of honesty? What smile would you be given? Would you even survive? You’re unsure, the aspects of such a reality hidden from you now, and so you swallow thickly, giving moisture to your voice to ensure you can speak, even if it is not entirely brave.

‘You’re blocking the window,’ you lie, surprised that you sound so confident, so calm, when the border between your bodies has been so ruefully challenged.

Eyes squeezing closed, they press into crescent moons as his cheeks rise up along the bones, and Kyungsoo laughs, genuinely amused by the absurdity of your statement. So unlike the booming force of Chanyeol’s laugh or the high pitched delight of Yixing’s, Kyungsoo’s low and deep giggle is a thunderclap in the center of your chest, an endless roll of electric pleasure along your nerves. The force of it has him jostling into your side, shoulders vibrating through the humor, and you feel yourself bristle, wholly unprepared. This moment of contact brings with it the absence of thought, the absence of protest, running far deeper than you imagined it could. In a single moment, your longing threatens to unmake you, wanting more of his pleasure, more of his joy, certain nothing is as sacred or magical as this.

Offering you a sardonic, yet amicable smile, he leans back into the seat, making himself as small as possible to take up the least amount of space. Tucking his arms into his sides, he moves away from the window entirely, and releases a hiss of breath through his nose. One eyebrow cocked in question, he pouts, the fullness of his bottom lip sticking out childishly.

‘Is this better?’ he asks through grit teeth, though his smile is tucked in the corner of his lips as a secret; dawn just about to break over the warm glow of his skin.

In this position, his shirt becomes constricted and stretched over his chest, shoulders, and abdomen, revealing the deep contours of his torso. The mid-morning sun casts him in gold, making a home of the pores of his skin and revealing amber flecks in the chocolate of his eyes. Immediately, your tongue becomes heavy, the taste of light filling your mouth, the taste of him and the heat of your unbridled wanting. Even with the smallness of space he has created, gaps between your bodies revealed where he has since retreated, the warmth between you both is a fire that refuses to die, and, in the aftermath of his simple question, you feel yourself flush.

‘Yes, much,’ you nod, hoping your expression is cordial and unmoved. Because it is true. You find you enjoy this view far more than the one before. ‘Now, if only you can stay like that for two more hours.’

Once more he laughs, enjoying your teasing banter as he relaxes into his previous position. All over again he relaxes into you, comfortable and content, strong muscles of his thighs vibrating into your legs as the car bounces over a bump on the highway. It frustrates you how swiftly the butterflies in your stomach wander into your heart as you watch him, stuttering in its rhythm as a stubborn reminder there is no escape, no fail safe to liberate you from this craving. If anything, the closeness you must endure over the length of this trip is only furthering your desire to shorten the ever present distance between your hearts.

‘Why did you give Baekhyun such a hard time this morning?’

His question interrupts your thoughts, words soft yet his tone carries with it a deceptive bite.

Narrowing your brow, you almost snort in surprise. ‘Because it’s ridiculous. Changing everything around at the last minute,’ you explain incredulously. ‘It’s ridiculous.’ Settling back against the hardness of the middle seat, you stare straight ahead, casting your unfocused gaze out beyond the windshield. ‘I can’t believe you’re even asking, as if you wouldn’t do the same.’

In the years you have known him, there has never been a moment where he allowed Baekhyun to get away with anything - not least without an argument or some form of protest. Moving Kyungsoo from one opinion to the next requires a fair amount of convincing and explaining, and, usually, results in his profound frustration until he gives over just to end the conversation. This morning, Kyungsoo said nothing, and his laugh, his smile, and his acquiescence is more out of place than your childish protesting.

Chuckling, he turns back to the window beside him, nodding slightly. ‘You’re not wrong,’ he muses in agreement.

Silence befalls you both, one that does not contain walls or barriers but is gratified. Kyungsoo comfortably nestles into his position, ready to maintain this pose for several more hours, and you turn to look at him, bewildered.

‘That’s it?’ He seems both completely satisfied with your answer and disinterested in continuing the conversation, and your mind races with a confusion so thick you think your hands could break it. ‘That’s all you wanted out of that?’

Tossing you a placid smile, he nods once more. ‘That’s it.’

Searching his face for answers, you translate his words over and over, breaking them down into their smallest pieces to grasp at what lies beneath. ‘Did you ask just to get a rise out of me?’

He keeps his eyes on the world outside, basking in the gold of daylight. It refuses to let him go, the sun, like always, pretending it is you.

‘Maybe so.’

It’s after you’ve dropped your bags in your large room, the one with the bay window overlooking the lake, that Kyungsoo asks you to help him make lunch.

You’re not entirely sure where the others have gone, and you find yourself in the open kitchen hugging yourself, looking around the mess for some way to busy your hands. Too many insulated bags and groceries line the counters, the chaos of them inciting a productive sort of stress, the kind that makes you ready to sort and fix, in your veins. Kyungsoo moves around the room with a confident ease, and for a moment you envy him; the answers already seem to live in his actions, not a single moment of question as he clears space and makes room.

Outside, you hear the deep baritone of Chanyeol’s gleeful howl as it heads towards the lake. Baekhyun’s voice follows, higher in pitch but just as eager, and in the silence of the room you hear Kyungsoo chuckling to himself. The smallness of his smile is betrayed by the light in his eyes, his own happiness a private paradise he shares only with those who choose to look.

And even before you had any control over it, before your mind could remind you that you value yourself and your solitude most, you had chosen him. You will always choose him.

‘Do you want to help me cut the vegetables?’

He doesn’t look at you as he asks the question, unloading the set of knives he brought for the week with careful motions. The silver blades seem to gleam in the midday sun, and you recognize them as the ones you bought for his birthday the year previous. He hadn’t asked for them, hadn’t even suggested you buy him anything, but as you passed the culinary shop window, mesmerized by their sharpness, their danger, their promise, you wondered - would they be a present or a plea? An offering of his happiness or yours, a moment of union between you both in which he would feel joy and you would be the cause of such magnificence.

They’re well worn now. Even from where you stand, you can see the streaks along the blades from multiple sharpening sessions, and as he holds them you can see the hidden strength that lives in his hands. His hands, rough and powerful, yet still more fine than sand and warm as maple. You have never told anyone about your admiration for the elegant length of his fingers, the peaks and valleys of his knuckles, and the way they seem to hold you, transfix you, satisfy you simply because they are proof beauty is not a face or a voice, but an art inherent to all things living. You suppose you will never tell anyone, his hands a poem for you alone.

Peering up at you curiously through the length of his lashes, he patiently waits for your answer and, for the second time today, you feel him. He is becoming an invasion, your defenses drawn down over the many hours beside him, the length of your thighs still tingling from his touch, and you are so aware of him the ripeness of this attention causes you to shiver.

‘Why are you asking me?’ you ask softly, taking a few tentative steps towards the island where he stands. Everything about your motions, your words, is careful, tender, mindful that this kind of question is fragile. ‘You never let people help in the kitchen.’

He stills as he lifts his head to appraise you, unabashedly taking you in and holding you under the ferocity of his gaze. Any other man and you would call this entrapment, but you are used to giving him everything, used to his penetrative stare and the way he always, without fail, seems to witness every flawed and contradictory piece you try to keep buried.

‘Because I want you to,’ he says, as if wanting anything is simple.

Aimlessly, you nod at his response, scanning the island counter as you approach with your arms hanging limply at your sides. You’ve surrendered to him without your own permission, but you are not terribly dismayed by this. He asks for help and speaks of wanting as though it’s an easy request, yet the tension at the back of his throat, minimal and almost imperceptible, implies this is something big and bold and frightening for him to say. For as long as you’ve known him, you both have been difficult, anxious, battling yourselves more than you battle the world around you, and so you do not comment on this ask - do not comment on the emotion of it - because you could still be wrong, and he could still take it back.

‘Aren’t you the one with the chef’s license?’ you tease, coming to stand beside him, unloading the food and organizing them into piles to be moved to their respective cupboards or shelves. ‘Wouldn’t my peasant hands ruin your julienne?’

‘Har har.’ The sound of his sarcastic laugh makes you blush, looking over your shoulder as you tuck unneeded cold things into the refrigerator. ‘And no,’ he continues once you’re beside him again, ‘I don’t need things to look pretty today, I just need them to taste good.’

Handing you a knife that fits perfectly in the palm of your outstretched hand, your eyes meet for a moment that is long enough to generate a spark. It blossoms within your blood, the mark of friendship and the mark of love blurring together the same way grief so often follows joy, weaving together to create something tender and something reverent. You look at him, and this moment feels eternal.

‘Besides,’ he mumbles, moving to guide a bunch of scallions, some tomatoes, and freshly peeled garlic on to the cutting board he has laid out for you. ‘Sometimes the most beautiful things in the room are the ones with flaws.’

Entirely unsure what to say to this, you simply bob your head with a noise of interest, a feigned motion of understanding. He does not seem to notice the way his words pierce you, cutting at wounds you have long since done your best to hide from him, and you are glad his smile endures. From the corner of your eye, you watch him carry on, cutting into an onion with little pomp and circumstance, the ghost of his words a phantom that chooses to haunt only you. Your hand trembles only slightly as you move the garlic into position, and you grip the handle tightly to keep your motions steady and even, gathering all your strength to root into the base of your joints.

Moments slip past you freely, moments where you are silent save for the deep inhalation of breath that fills your lungs as you watch him cut. Your friendship with Kyungsoo is still relatively new, in your eyes - two years on and still there are details of his life, his history, his character that elude you. Still, you know him well enough, likely somehow have always known, that he is complicated and oftentimes impossible, unfathomable, thinking too hard about every nuance and detail that colours his choices.

But when he cooks, when he is in the act of creation, making a whole reality to be touched and tasted with his bare hands, you find he has never been so certain of anything. As he turns the onion, halving it swiftly before quartering it, there is no doubt in his actions, no hesitation, and he seems to relax into this confidence, mind wandering freely because there is no room for its criticism.

‘To The Lighthouse or A Room of One’s Own?’ he asks, unprompted.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you begin slicing the garlic into small pieces as you consider his question. ‘To the Lighthouse.’

You're unsure who started this game, the habit of asking one another questions on your preferences, something that feels so fundamental to your relationship you imagine it is genetic to the very fabric of its existence. It no longer matters who started it, you think, only that it has persisted without ever fading, something you look forward to whenever you're together. Baekhyun finds this game rather comical, often wondering why you even bother when you both know so much about one another at this point old topics must be rehashed. But each time, every time, he says this Kyungsoo simply looks at you with an expression that could stitch together the stars and you know, together, that he is wrong.

Even if a topic is revisited, the answer is always different. In this way, you ensure that you know one another and you still never stop knowing.

Kyungsoo hums at your response. ‘Why?’

This is yet another unwritten rule of the game: for whatever you choose, you must offer a quote or a reason, the one thing you cling to that makes the choice feel superior over the other.

Three months ago, he loaned you both these books, and you had finished them rather quickly. The day you returned them, your fingers grazed as he took them from you, the resulting tremor of this touch leaving your hands caught in a fire that would not cease for days. He didn't ask what you thought beyond if you'd enjoyed them. You suppose he'd been saving it for this moment.

Pressing your palm into the flat of the knife, you compress a clove of garlic and dig deep. You'd given your answer automatically, on impulse, and hadn't truly considered the fact that you must quote the line that made your breath catch and your very bones quake. It hits you now that he's read these words, felt this kind of swooning even if there is distance between your twin heartbreaks; eyes kissing the same page long after one another has departed.

‘It was not knowledge, but unity she desired,' you begin, focusing intently on chopping so as not to lose your will, 'not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself - which is knowledge.’

His knife falters in cutting the onion, the blade slipping against the wood of the cutting board as you finish speaking. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you watch the juice spread beneath his perfect slices, his lips parting slightly as he takes in a slow hiss of breath. Steadying himself, he gathers his composure and begins chopping once more, nodding in agreement.

It is your turn to ask a question, but you take this moment of silence to watch the light from the wide kitchen window nestle between his cupid's bow, understanding with your whole chest why the moon fought so hard to claim the sun.

‘Are you okay?’ you murmur, keeping your tone quiet and gentle, concerned yet distanced, not wanting to embarrass him.

‘Mhmm,’ he hums, flippantly avoiding the question.

‘Dexter or Supernatural,' you inquire, moving your pile of minced garlic to the corner of the board as you gather the bunch of scallions.

‘Dexter,' is his confident reply.

'Have these already been washed?' you divert, and he glances to your hands, nodding. Lining them up, you continue.‘Why?’

Sighing, he unwraps a large cut of fish from its paper packaging, considering his choice. ‘We all make rules for ourselves,' he quotes. 'It’s these rules that help define who we are. So when we break those rules, we risk losing ourselves and becoming something unknown.’

Amidst your meticulous slicing, you feel yourself bristle. In the choice between the two, you agree - Dexter would be your first choice. Yet, you had not expected him to pick this quote, this particular choice carrying with it the weight of your identity. Your understanding of yourself and your needs has always been wrapped up in these few lines, your desire for rules and control the very thing that allows you to relate to the world. Everyone you know finds things both disruptingly and disturbingly true about themselves through their relations with other people, through their relationship to their surroundings.

You relate to yourself and to them through the rules you have cultivated, based on your experiences of others rather than their integration into your life. You want to break free from this, aware that this is only yet another way you stand to complicate your understanding of everything, but you rely on it.

And, it seems, so does he.

He is soft and sensitive, and yet conversely so rigid, operating within his own rules. To step outside would be a great unmaking, and, for one blissful moment, you find there is no space between where you end and he begins. In this understanding, you are both slinking toward a new reality.

Glancing down at your cutting board, you pout. The scallions will be uneven.

Kyungsoo swallows with a low cough, clearing his throat. ‘Neruda or Siken.’

A wide smile blooms across your features, this question perhaps one of the easiest he has ever asked. ‘Siken.’

Using your knife, you push the chopped scallions to the top of your cutting board and slowly roll a few of the tomatoes down to the center. Your smile falters, already picturing the mess of squashed pulp that will come from this. Years of cooking for yourself, but still your hands are too heavy for delicate things. With a small sigh, you angle your knife over the ripe curve, the skin so smooth you think your knife might slide right off without any incision at all.

As you start to press your knife down, Kyungsoo stops you.

‘Try like this.’

Coming to stand behind you, he takes your hands in his, joining you in holding the knife and holding the vegetable, the touch from his fingers feather light and, conversely, heavy as steel. Your breath halts its journey in your lungs, blood too warm and stagnant in your veins, your heart faltering amidst this disruption. The heat from his chest radiates into your back, meandering down your spine and into your legs, all over your nerves until you wonder if there is anything left of you, any part of you he has not touched.

He makes being near him feel like a season, full years and days lived in the wake of a breath; your every breath heavy with him, and the things your heart yearns to offer him. Every second full of an exhale transmutes into the precipice of a life well lived, because he is there and smiling and sharing the world with you even if he is not sharing the ardor in your lungs. Kyungsoo is the fifth season, a season unto you, an oncoming wind between the border of summer and autumn, between the heat and the chill, neither a warming nor a cooling but a possibility of both all at once.

You know this. You have always known this. But, recently, in the days you find yourself absent from him, your heart unmakes the memory of these small euphorias, unpossessed and eternally lonely, unwilling to cling to that which it cannot keep. And so you are whelmed and unmade by the totality of him, forced, now, to stitch yourself into someone entirely new, someone who knows how it feels to be close.

He guides your right hand forward, easing the knife slowly along the tomato until the base is what presses into the skin, not the middle.

‘Why Siken?’ he whispers, and he is close enough his breath tickles at your ear, cascading down your neck and into your shoulder. He spills over you, and you tremble, knowing he feels you but he says nothing, polite enough to maintain your pride.

He asked you a question. You know he did, and it takes work finding words when he is doing his best to consume you like this, your eyes watching as he, and you, together, slice a tomato into thin circles. The rhythm he creates with your twin hands is steady, even, almost musical in the way you can anticipate the sound of it, and it grounds you just enough to remember you are about to give absolutely everything away.

If he does not know yet, if he has not known, you suppose he will know now. But he asked. And so you will tell him.

‘Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us,’ you whisper, matching the volume of his voice. You know he will hear you. You wonder if he will feel you. ‘These, our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we will never get used to it.’

Kyungsoo eases the knife down one last time, and keeps it there, pressed against the cutting board as the slice drops mutely against the other pieces, the juice from the vegetable seeping deep into the wood. His thumb moves slowly over yours in small circles - you’d like to call them reassuring, but as he steps closer behind you, as his other hand moves his fingers over your knuckles, you wonder if there is any reassurance to be found here.

In love, in lust, the solidarity you have found in your hobbies and your, almost selfish, avoidance have dissolved, leaving you exposed to the full extent of his soul. No, there is no reassurance in this liminal space, the moment in which you will either become unbreakable or tragically unrecognizable threatening your very sense of self. Had you known when you met him that it would feel this way? Had you known that loving him would be not unlike a benediction?

The problem, you think, is that even if you had known, nothing would have stopped you. In every life, in every choice, you love him like a beginning and an ending, your heart incapable of knowing much other than craving him.

His hands drift away, peeling off your skin, slowly, as though he is reluctant to leave. Turning until his nose is tucked into the hair just above your ear, he inhales deeply, hands coming to over just above your hips. The energy between you is a live wire, your mouth running dry and your tongue coming to wet your lips, feeling yourself grow parched. Kyungsoo takes a long breath, filling his lungs with nothing but you, before he exhales and whispers into the shell of your ear.

‘Can you handle it?’

You’re not sure if he means the quote or the rest of the tomato, not sure if he means if you can handle this, with him, or the rest of your existence without him. You aren’t entirely sure of much other than the force of your attraction, the sheer power of it, and the way you think it will fuel your every thought until your bones become ash, this love a windmill in your chest.

‘I think so,’ you mumble in affirmation, glancing over your shoulder to offer him a small expression of encouragement, hoping you look convincing.

His eyes have grown dark, the chocolate of his irises tempered with an impenetrable black, and a flush spreads across his cheeks so warm and pink you would think he’s been sugared. Immediately, you regret seeing him, the lust in you becoming a sea, the swell of it so deep and so strong, you fear you might drown in it, in him.

‘Actually, I’m feeling a bit warm.’ Side stepping along the island, away from him and out of his orbit, your words are rushed and hurried. Running a hand through your hair, you look at him, pleading. ‘Are you okay to take it from here?’

‘Yeah, are you okay?’ he asks furrowing his brow, concern evident in his voice.

‘I’m fine,’ you nod, looking everywhere but his face. ‘It’s fine. I just need to dip my toes in the water to cool off. Text me if you need me to come back?’

He laughs, watching you affectionately as you turn away from him, heading to the sliding door that leads to the brilliant green grass of the back yard. ‘Okay,’ he calls, his voice following you out.

You know that he will not.

You know that there is a barrier that stands between grief and loving, a door to walk through in which there is a boundary between the knowledge of love and the acceptance of it. He opened the door. You stepped through, momentarily basking in the reverence of it, only to leave, shutting it behind you, likely forever, to wallow in the ever comforting loneliness of wanting.

‘Are you joining me?’

Chanyeol’s girlfriend sits on the dock, leisurely swinging her feet in the water as she cranes her face into the sun to watch your approach. Covering her eyes with her hand to block the sun, she offers you a curious smile as you slide off your sandals and sit heavily beside her. Leaning back on your hands, you let the sun warm your neck and chest in contrast to the cold lake water that laps lazily over your feet and midway up your calf, pressing your fingers into the rough oak. The water’s chill walks up your skin, soothing the tension in your nerves that lingers from Kyungsoo’s breath, smile, lips, and voice.

In the distance, Chanyeol’s laughter mixes with Yixing’s and Baekhyun’s. Just beyond their small circle, Sehun and Jun canoe in amusement, the paddling of their oars a relaxing rhythm amidst the chaos that surrounds them. Baekhyun’s new girlfriend swims close by, her laughter jubilant yet reticent, still testing the limits of her comfort. Eyes still closed, you tilt your head to the side, remembering how you felt the day you were integrated into this group - shy and uncertain, the closeness of the bonds surrounding you both frightening and awe inspiring.

Chanyeol made it easy, as he always does, but, strangely enough, Kyungsoo made it easier. Even without loving him, without the intense desire to be near him, you would have chosen his company over all the rest. He said your name like it was something special, like he was careful with it inside his mouth - like it mattered. He wanted your opinion on everything, wanted your thoughts, wanted your voice first. You’ve lost count of the parties, the gatherings, the movie nights, the drinking games, and as a result all the times you’ve wound up next to him, tucked into a corner just talking and just learning.

Kyungsoo made it easier than all the rest, simply because he demanded you at his side.

Opening your eyes, the light seems to sparkle in the places where it kisses the water, putting a glimmer against your skin.

‘How did you do it?’The words taste bitter and heavy against your tongue, and you find yourself grimacing as you speak.

Chanyeol’s girlfriend, the Countess as he likes to call her, turns to face you. You feel her eyes move over your profile, patient despite her confusion. ‘Do what?’

‘Tell him you loved him.’ Chanyeol dives under the water only to break through the surface behind Baekhyun, dunking him with a gleeful howl. Would it have been easier to manage your feelings with someone so vocal? Someone with such little restraint? Sitting up, you press the base of your palms into your eyes and release a mournful sigh. ‘How did you own up to it?’

‘Well, I didn’t have to do much,’ she laughs. Looking at her, the expression your features decide to wear feels plagued by uncertainty but she does not see you. Her gaze has drifted to where Chanyeol swims, to his broad form and his musical laugh, her own expression softened beyond measure. She smiles as she speaks, unbridled in her admiration. ‘You know Chanyeol. He’s the least discrete person and also not terribly patient.’ Tossing you a knowing grin, she giggles affectionately and you cannot help but laugh, her happiness naturally contagious. ‘The beauty of those things is he figures out what he wants immediately and then acts on it only after he’s decided it’s to his benefit. He’s very discerning that way.’

Humming, you glance down at your legs and lean back on your hands once more, pouting. ‘Did you know, though? All that time, did you know?’

‘No,’ she shakes her head. ‘I suppose, looking back, there were always signs,’ she concedes quickly, ‘but we’re so similar, I would go between thinking it was just our way of communicating and connecting to thinking it was flirting, but only when I was alone. When I was with him, I just wanted to enjoy being with him.’

‘How?’ You don’t mean to sound so incisive or desperate, but the feel of Kyungsoo’s hands still nestles deep within your skin, and you can sense him there even after he has departed. You are certain that you will spend the rest of your life with him pressing against parts of you long dormant and long ignored. ‘How do you do that? How did you not lose your mind being so close to him?’

‘That’s giving me far too much credit,’ she laughs, body jostling against yours in her amusement.

On instinct, as though the very sound itself is a siren call, Chanyeol ceases his movements and turns to see her, the teasing smile he’d been sporting with Yixing fading into one of contented devotion. In a single instant, the mere sight of her smooths away all his edges. There is something unspoken, yet eternal, lurking in the depths of his eyes, his yearning a boundless loyalty that declares her as his treasure.

‘I always wanted to be close to him, and I was always on the edge of my sanity. But..’ her speech dies slowly, voice tight with emotion. Considering her words, she holds his stare and refuses to look away, seemingly adrift with him. Instinctively drawn to him, she leans forward slightly, the bones and the core of her pulling her to him as best they can. ‘He makes me happy. In the purest, most simple sense of the word he makes me happier than I’ve ever been able to really...attain, if that makes sense.’

She looks away from him then, turning to regard you rather seriously. ‘Happiness has always been a choice I have to make, but it’s also something that is elusive.’ All too easily she adopts the austere tone she so often uses when giving you advice - words stern and slightly cold, though still doing her best to remain supportive and encouraging. ‘When I’m with him, he sustains it. I’m not stressed and I’m not anxious, I just get to be. You have no idea how unbelievably peaceful that is. If I spend my time with him overthinking, it rushes me to a feeling, to a place we don’t need to be in. I don’t want to overthink, I just want to be with him.’

She takes him in once more, all the tension seeming to leave her muscles as her eyes touch what her hands cannot, visibly comforted. ‘More than anything, I just want to be with him’

Fundamentally you understand her statements, your heart responding and reacting to the sentiment with little input from your mind. A language has started to develop within you, the kind that seems to be spoken by Chanyeol and the countess, a language that exists where words fail entirely. There are no words to describe the way you yearn for Kyungsoo, not a single syntax that could contain his grace, his imperfections, the breadth of his very soul. There are no words, yet you comprehend all of it - you feel all of it, the very act of this understanding a transgression against your sense of self.

Shaking your head, you groan, doing your very best to stay the same, to stay guarded. ‘That’s too much to think about.’

Chuckling, she pokes you in the shoulder. ‘I know this is about Kyungsoo.’

Waving her hand away, you hurriedly hush her with a loud hiss, looking to the group and back again. Running your fingers over your arm, you massage the slight pain with a small frown. ‘They might hear you,’ you whisper, aghast.

She snorts. ‘They’re too absorbed in whatever competition Chanyeol has created. And it’s not like this is a big secret. But okay. I’ll be quiet..er.’

The blood in your veins seems to chill, matching the temperature of the water at your feet. Eyes wide, you whisper, ‘People know?’

‘Yes,’ she nods, like nothing has changed, like this single fact is the most inconsequential thing in the world. ‘I’m pretty sure everyone knows, except for Kyungsoo which is shocking.’

With a groan, you fall back onto the dock. Heated by the direct sunlight, the wood sends heat through your shoulders and spine, an otherworldly compassion that does its best to ease your tension. Draping your arm over your eyes, you sigh. ‘Must you always tease me?’

‘Yes. It’s my duty.’ Patting your leg gently she offers little condolence, her voice a sarcastic lament.

In the ensuing quiet colours move amidst the darkness behind your eyes, sunlight infiltrating the small gap between your arm and the bridge of your nose, and providing a kaleidoscope of purple and green. Lilacs and lilies are carried in the rustling breeze, the opposite side of the lake decorated with a field of flowers, its tall grass and array of blossoms just as dense as the hunger in your blood. If you were alone perhaps you would weep over this, the inward nature of this secret desire fueled by the feel of his fingertips and his laugh and his breath on your neck - it is enough to consume the very heart of you, leaving nothing in its wake.

To give in to this would be to render yourself unrecognizable.

‘Have you ever wondered who you would be if you weren’t trying to think your way through feelings?’

A groan of discontent bubbles in your chest, her question simultaneously full of good intentions while still demanding you confront the change occurring within you. Like always, she insists that you take control of it, that you become a participant in your very unmaking - that you surrender to it, as though the only thing you must endure is yourself. How much of this can one survive, you wonder. How much of a person can survive the devastation of wanting?

‘That’s not entirely helpful.’ You know that you are whining - you can hear the cadence of your unease seep through the last of your syllables. But this cannot be helped, you think. Your great resolve has been terribly weakened.

She inhales, preparing to reply, only to be interrupted by the sounds of splashing water making its approach. Removing your hand from your eyes, you lean up slightly and squint through the changing light to see Chanyeol, his arms breaking through the water as he swims to the dock. Pressing his hands onto the wood, he lifts himself up to linger between his girlfriends legs, getting both you and she wet. You roll slightly to the side in surprise, doing your best to avoid more water getting on your clothes, but she just leans forward, the stars and the moon shifting through her eyes she takes him in.

‘My love,’ she giggles, kissing his nose. As she pulls away, he follows after her, leaning forward for more, but she is already looking behind him, brow furrowed. ‘Aren’t you in the middle of some kind of challenge?’

‘Yeah,’ he laughs, folding his arms on the dock and resting his head as he gazes up at her. ‘We’re trying to see who can knock Jun out of his canoe first.’

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you smirk. ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘He’s got a life jacket,’ he shrugs, entirely nonchalant. ‘Anyway, I need a good luck kiss.’

Running her hands through his hair, she lets her fingers toy with the tips of his ears as she speaks. ‘You know you’ll win even if you don’t get one.’

His eyes flutter closed under her thoughtful touching, swooning into her orbit as he hums. They stay like this for a moment, awash and enraptured with one another. Their world is foreign to you, a place of belonging where they live only with each other, and more vulnerable and brave than you could ever comprehend.

When he looks at her again, there is a silent communion that passes between them, words and conversations living and dying on their breaths without any speech at all.

‘Still,’ he pouts, and she understands, instantly pulling him up as he raises.

The prelude to this kiss is just as intimate as the act itself, and you look away, gazing over your shoulder back to the house, back to where Kyungsoo cooks, alone and possibly lonely, abandoned because you have not yet learned how to truly hold the sun in your hands. In truth, you are too fond, too enamored, too lost in him to remember yourself when you are with him; and you are too comfortable, too in control of your emotions to forget yourself, remembering all your flaws and the way they will inevitably be highlighted, all the light in the universe culminating in him and illuminating everything, including you.

Chanyeol swims away once he is satisfied, and you swallow the words that have threatened to rise in the back of your throat. In considering Kyungsoo, you have once again considered the reality of love - they have made you consider love, and there is something easy about the conversation you had before he arrived, so you do your best to return knowing, depressingly, she will not let you escape.

‘You both are assholes you know?’ you tease, nudging her gently.

She watches him hungrily, lips red and swollen, before she looks at you once more, distracted. ‘I meant what I said.’

‘You’re not helping,’ you groan, exasperated.

‘Only because you want to apply logic to your feelings.’ Having collected herself once more, her spine straightens, words full of authority. ‘Sometimes, feelings don’t make sense and sometimes they just are. Who are you when you aren’t thinking about how you feel?’

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug, defeated. ‘I can’t know because I don’t even understand what you’re saying. What do you mean by don’t think about how I feel?’

‘Yes, exactly!’ she says, far too enthusiastic for such a non-committal answer.

‘You know I understand even less now, you know this right?’ you murmur flatly, looking back to the water.

Gaze unfocused, your friends are a blur of action far away from you. Their colours merge and mix while you try to surrender your conscious mind in favor of feeling. Every breath you take is full of him, every inhale and exhale an ode to the way you both see and feel him without ever looking at all. The first summer you met him, everything was pure happiness. July was oppressive in the way it kept you perpetually warm, but you thought you would forget him, that the feeling would fade - this kind of craving dies with summer, the twilight of the season bringing forth a reality too harsh for summer’s fruit.

But he has not left you. Not once. Not even a little.

‘How does he make you feel?’ she tries, taking a different approach to her questioning. ‘Don’t think about why you feel it, just think about what it is.’

To you, the question is inherently frightening, the tendrils of it dripping down into the cage of your ribs and tightening, finding all the places the ache in you is the most special and the most tender. The question is frightening, but it bears an even more frightening answer - a frontier and the unexplored desert of truth.

‘Safe,’ you admit, acknowledging, horribly, that while you are safe with yourself, you are, perhaps, even more safe beside him; his aura, a temple. ‘He makes me feel safe.’

When you look at her once more, you’re certain you are something pathetic, but she simply takes hold of your hand and squeezes it, the reassurance of her touch a threat to the dam of solitude locked inside your chest.

‘Then,’ she begins, almost too soothing and too sweet for you to stand, ‘the next time you’re with him, let yourself be safe and nothing else. I think everyone wants to know who they are when they’re safe, without question.’

The problem, you think, is that you have always known who you would be if you let yourself go. The problem, you think, is that you have known and done your best to spirit it away, aware that to feel as much as you do, about everything, would render someone monstrous.

To be free and open and safe with him is to be hungry - not the absence of yearning, but the sheer, irrevocable abundance of it.

'Listen, the Baroness needs your room.'

Baekhyun corners you in the hallway long after the sun has set. Cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, the wine from dinner and the beer from the fire pit still linger in his bloodstream, giving him the sort of dazed, sleepy appearance that usually makes you soften towards him. Leaning against the wall for support, his closeness allows you to smell the smoke and ash from the bonfire on his clothes, and if he had posed any other question, said, quite possibly, anything else, you would have ruffled his hair and given him a hug, wanting to be close to him.

Instead, you rear back slightly, so bewildered you are certain you have mental whiplash.

'What?' The word comes out quickly, more an exclamation of sound than an actual word. ‘The who?’

Baekhyun shrugs, sheepish. ‘You know how Chanyeol calls his girl the Countess, Jongin calls his Duchess.’ He sways as he speaks, a sign of his drunkenness or a sign of his shyness at the question, you cannot be sure. ‘I’m trying this one out for mine.’

Humming, you nod. ‘That’s very nice. And no.’

'Come on,’ he pleads, already starting to whine. ‘You can share with someone else, but she really needs your room.'

Crossing your arms, you mirror his pose and lean against the wall. The dim light of the hallway puts shadows under his eyes, making his expression look far more forlorn than it likely is.

'Absolutely not,’ you say, sternly. Twelve hours later and you are in the same position as this morning, protesting against the unfairness of his requests. ‘I paid for that room out of my own pocket. She can't just come on this trip and freeload. Besides, didn't you bring her on this trip to get laid? What are you going to do, astral project through walls?'

'No, not really, I mean maybe but not exactly,’ he stammers, doing his best to piece his argument together. Too tipsy to mask his meaning with the smoothness of words, all he can do is suffer the truth of his emotions. ‘It’s not exactly like that but I can't make it that obvious.’

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, exasperated. 'Baekhyun, it's already obvious.'

'Don't you know there has to be finesse to this?' The barely restrained emotion in his voice dismantles the playful tone he has done his best to adopt, the intensity of his desire not something to be trifled with.

But so too are you unafraid of a challenge, your mind already made up, your heart already enclosed in your room with the lakeside view.

'What are you, seven?’ you laugh, incredulously. ‘I think she knows exactly what you're looking for out of this, it's why she's here at all.'

'It's not that obvious,’ he pouts.

'Literally, why would anyone agree to go on a vacation with a bunch of strangers and one guy they only kind of know?’ you challenge, unable to fathom any other conclusion. Even in the beginning, when Chanyeol would invite you out, your proclivity for quiet nights at home always had you leaning toward spending the evening with a book until he would mention Kyungsoo’s name. The sound of the word alone would draw you out, his name dissolving the essence of your loneliness if only for one night. ‘She's here for the same thing as you, just get it over with.'

'I don't just want to fuck her!' he exclaims in a loud whisper, both your eyes widening at his admission.

In the aftermath of his outburst, there is a looming silence in which you are uncertain what else there is to be said. It weighs down on you, on your shoulders and on your heart, the uprising in him so unlike his usually soft and sweet demeanor. He has never been one for committing, never been one for avoiding what he wants either, and so this limbo between wanting her to be his while also keeping her at arm’s length puts a throb in the center of your temple.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you dig your nails into your arms. 'I'm so confused about what's happening here.'

'I really like this girl.’ It’s the most careful Baekhyun has ever spoken, as if he is just as perplexed as you by the sheer tenacity of his emotions. Hearing himself say the words seems to put a colour in his cheeks, deepening the shade of his blush beyond alcohol, beyond the kiss of the afternoon sun. Baekhyun grows almost weary in his relief, glad that he has said it out loud, to someone. ‘I don't want to just make it about that one thing.'

Resting a hand on his shoulder, you offer him a sympathetic smile. Over the years of your friendship, you have watched him fall in love several times a day, with so many different things, his heart an atrium that endlessly nurtures romance and affection. It’s rare for him to settle on one single person, and even more rare for him to act on it.

'I respect you,’ you say slowly, pressing your thumb into the strong flesh of his arm in solidarity, ‘but I still paid money for that room, so it's not happening.'

'I'll pay you back for it,’ he tries, starting to sober beneath your perpetual refusal.

'Baekhyun -'

'Kyungsoo's room has two twin beds,’ he blurts out in a rush, all his words condensed on a single breath. Feeling yourself pale, the axis of the world seems to shift beneath your feet, your vision suddenly blurred and unfocused, dizzy, and he takes your surprised silence as volition to speak. ‘It's like a pleasant surprise! You can share with him.'

Even in the dark, you can see the mischievous glimmer in his eyes, the sparkle of an ulterior motive lurking in the depths. It would not be the first time he attempted to be your wingman, would also not be the first time he would fail at such an endeavor, and your hand slides away from his arm, falling limply at your side. You watch him, slack jawed at the horror of it all, stomach dropping all the way down to your toes.

'Baek, no.’ It is your turn to plead, amazed your voice even makes a sound with how dry your throat has become.

'Oh, come on!' Baekhyun has the audacity to laugh, slapping your arm congenitally as if his encouragement is enough to placate you. 'I'm trying to help you!'

Sarcastically, you snort. 'You're helping yourself and clinging to the hope that it would ever be about me.'

Somehow immune to your admonishment, he simply wiggles his brow salaciously. 'You know you like the idea.'

'Fucks sake, I should never have told you about this,’ you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest once more. ‘I got drunk one time and now you think you can play matchmaker.'

Baekhyun sighs, shrugging his shoulders. 'Listen, I already told her she can have your room -'

Rearing back, you blink rapidly, appalled and bewildered. 'What the fuck?'

'And Kyungsoo already agreed to letting you stay in his,’ he continues, ignoring your seething disdain as though this is simply a negotiation about where to go for breakfast.

Blood rushing away from your cheeks, running to service your overactive heart, you simply stare off into the distance, beyond Baekhyun, beyond the house altogether, to a time in history when you would not have to spend the evening sharing his air. 'I hate this.'

'I know.’ It’s his turn to rest a hand on your shoulder, his expression somehow far less sympathetic than yours had been. ‘But if this is the only way for both of us to get what we want, then someone has to put some fire under your ass.'

Shaking your head, you do not allow him to come into focus, mumbling with scathing contempt. 'Wow, I actually hate you.'

'You move at a glacial pace.’ Assuming the conversation is over, he removes his hand from your shoulder and turns away, no longer giving you any opportunity to complain. ‘At least now we all can say we tried.'

Hurriedly, you follow after him, pushing off the wall and gathering the strength to move your things from your lakeside room to Kyungsoo’s, the phantom memory of his skin on yours awakening once more.

'Why are you still talking?’ you call after him.

But he just tosses you a sly wink over his shoulder, laughing to himself as he heads down the stairs.

‘I can hear you overthinking from across the room.’

The light from the moon creeps in through the sheer curtains covering the window, Kyungoo’s voice filling the space, dancing on the rays, with a tired rasp. He’s worn himself out - laughing, yelling, drinking. Somehow, the sound is thick and heavy, sinking down and deep into places long left untouched, your body wired by the sound of him alone.

'Just go to sleep,’ he chastises, turning over in his bed.

It is only the two of you contained in this small space, twin beds side by side, close enough you can hear his breath. Pressing your head against the pillow, your mind has become divided in two, living in two places at once - this moment, and your time spent with him in the kitchen, doing its best to rationalize the difference. Cooking with him, he was all over you, hands on yours and chest against your back as if he was learning how to make a home of you. It was different then, almost too tactile to comprehend but the sun through the kitchen and living room windows somehow made the world seem wide.

His touch had a distance, a space - even if you could not see it, you could sense it, the light finding its way through, reminding you there is a line between your body and his, a line between simply touching and truly feeling.

Now, in the dark, everything, even the gap between your mattresses feels close - too intense, too raw, to real. The darkness is oppressive, like that, a brief moment in time in which you are aware of the edge of things. Resting in the center of your bed, you are aware of the edge of your limbs, the absolute limit of your body. In the room, you are aware of the edge of your bed and the way there is just enough distance between yours and his for a single person to stand. In his bed, you are aware of the edge of his lips, and the way his breath cascades over them, facing the window to kiss the moon.

And you are aware of the edge of your resolve, threatened and thinned to breaking by the way the light casts him in silver, illuminating all the parts of him you find sacred.

‘You’re wide awake too,’ you say to the ceiling, not allowing yourself to see him. ‘I guess that makes us even.’ Biting your lip, you close your eyes and sigh. ‘I’m not the only one who can’t fall asleep,’ you finish quietly.

Kyungsoo laughs, warm and rich, utterly intoxicating, no trace of irritation in his words as he speaks. ‘Okay,’ he muses. 'How about this.’

You hardly have time to knit your brow together in thought before he begins singing, the rich honey of his tone turning the room into amber. He doesn’t often do this, a talent he likes to keep to himself. Sometimes, when he is drunk, he can be convinced to be the start of a song, not the result, but even this takes an equal amount of convincing as it does bottles of beer. But you have found, over time, that the talent itself is not so secret - hidden, but not entirely forbidden.

When he is with you, somehow you always hear his music, your ear always finding and listening to his voice first. You have found there is not a single moment he is without music, the way he speaks a melody unto itself, but when the sun goes down and the others go to bed, and it is just you and just him, and the dying embers of a fire that blazed too high, he sings with you.

He sings, often, just to make you smile.

'Oh, dear god, is that supposed to be better?' you laugh, skin tingling with adrenaline and a down turned corner of your cheeks as though you are saying goodbye to a time in your life when things were safe.

Kyungsoo interrupts himself, and even though you do not see him, even though you cannot yet bring yourself to look, you know he is beaming. 'I'm not going to stop until you sing along.'

He continues singing and the joy in you sets itself free, liberated like a terror. You would be frightened if this moment were perfect, would feel the world dissolve around you, his voice a nightingale leading you to perish. You would retreat from all of this, except -

'I hate this song,’ you sigh, flopping your arms atop the mattress to signal your unrest.

'I know,’ he persists, turning in the bed to face you. The darkness does little to hide the intensity of his focus. If anything, it feels heightened, the angles of your profile burning beneath his scrutiny. ‘But you know it.'

In spite of yourself, you close your eyes and let the bliss send shivers through your veins. When you are not looking, held in the darkness of your own making, your body becomes otherworldly, something entirely outside of yourself, someone you don’t recognize. How far have you crossed? What line have you transgressed and ignored, blithely meandering into the irresistible territory of passion? It’s all over you now, your smile full of teeth and your mind empty, save for his melody and the advice of Chanyeol’s girlfriend:

Who are you when you are not trying to think through emotion?

It happens in the limbo between who you are and who you want to be, the room suddenly a cathedral devoted to your wanting. With your eyes open, your love takes a verbal form, this voice yours yet better, enhanced and empowered, and you sing because you no longer can help it. Nowhere near as confident or stable in your notes, your voice does its best to hold onto the words, finding the center of the notes almost too late before it’s time to move to another, but, strangely, you don’t find yourself blushing. It is not, you think, that the darkness has made you less inhibited, rather that with a song you hate and a smile at your lips, you simply don’t have it in you to mind.

'There it is!' he celebrates, raising his arms off the mattress and clapping.

Pressing a hand to your forehead, your shyness in the dark somehow even more amusing, you cackle. 'God, this is terrible.'

Adjusting his pillow, he hums. 'Exactly.'

The aftermath of your twin voices seems to reverberate around the room, long after you both have fallen quiet, the echo bouncing off your skin. This kind of euphoria could only be brought by him - his intelligence, his stubbornness, his perceptive intuitiveness. With only the echo and the memory sustained, your breath becomes unsteady, reminded that this place, this room, will no longer just be a place but a sanctuary and you will no longer just be you, but you will, forever more, be his.

'Sometimes,' you begin, words a whisper that you know he will still hear, 'you're funny.'

'It's just something I'm trying.' Such a simple statement, one full of humor and sarcasm but one with a texture that makes you press your tongue to the back of your teeth as he says it. He sounds tired of running - from himself, from all the great complexities he finds in the world, but not from you. 'Just something I want to try for a little while.’'

'All the time.’ Your own words are abrupt, clipped at the end of their syllables as you rush them out, needing him to hear the correction - to not miss it, not for a second. 'You're always funny, all the time.'

For a long while he considers your statement, and, in the absence of sound and conversation, the air in the room becomes thick, sluggish in your lungs. Your fingers curl into the sheets, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling because now, if ever, it would be terribly dangerous to turn to face him. At least, you presume, he finally knows. He must know, the layers of this confession wholly befitting the hallowed energy that lingers between you.

Swallowing thickly, you let him take his time, forcing yourself to be patient. The darkness has brought everything together, the gap between your beds somehow closed, as though he is right next to you, even unreachable as he is.

'You're the only one who sees me that way,’ he says finally, and you hear the care laced in his voice, doing his best to articulate his appreciation.

You want more of him, more of this sound, more of everything he keeps tucked away where prying eyes cannot follow. You want all of him, his very existence an addiction.

'It's because I see you.' This time, you are more brave, more confident, and there is a pleasing dissonance to your voice, the old you starting to become devoured by the new.

Tonight tastes different on your tongue. Something about the moon and something about the sun, about the way you have spent too long in the light with your private luxuries shrinking ever further away, has allowed you to gather blossoms of starlight, their twinkling mysteries putting a hope in your joints that has never dared to trespass until this moment. All your life, the darkness has been a shroud and a veil, a cloister keeping you contained only with your yearning thoughts and your inadequacies, an invasion that has wormed its way within you for too long. It leaves you now, spilling outward and shimmering in the moonlight, leaving you free and empty, with room to nurture a burning flame.

Kyungsoo remains completely still, and you have the passing thought he does not move for fear of causing your retreat. 'And what do you see?' he asks softly.

Fingers pressing deep into the feather comforter, you hum. 'It depends.'

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, the very sound a ripple of thunder in the night. 'That doesn't sound reassuring.'

Taking in a deep breath, you hold it in until your lungs hurt, smothering the doubt, the fear, and the inexplicable notion that this will fail until you can convince yourself you are indestructible.

'It depends on how long I let myself look, and depends on what you feel that day.’ Furrowing your brow, you tuck the inside of your cheek between your teeth. This should be sufficient, but he is so much more than a summation of looking, a summation time. He is something that is held without time, something you wish to behold eternally, even long after you are dust. 'It's not that you're mercurial,’ you continue, doing your best not to cringe at the clarity in your voice, ‘it's not that you're not consistent. I think I just see other things because I take my time looking.'

How would he look if you said these things to him in the daylight? What would the midday yellows and oranges reflect if he looked at you, and let himself be seen? Would you tell him your looking extends beyond admiration, beyond mere affection, and into the shuddering truth of love? To say all this in the sunlight, what would become of you?

You think it’s for the best that you will never have the answers to these questions, the night the only thing clinging tenderly to your pride, protective and secure.

'And do you like what you see?'

His voice is full of bashful apprehension, the rustling of his own sheets a symphony to accompany his tentative questioning. He shifts restlessly, hopefully, and you feel the sound with your whole body.

Licking your lips, you press onward, getting used to breaking the darkness - getting used to feeling raw and open. 'That also depends.'

'On what you see?'

Unable to help yourself, you finally turn to your side and look at him, eyes adjusting almost instantly to trace the nuanced details of his face, the moonlight painting silver shadows along his features. You’ve been lured to him, driven to see him now that he is asking to be seen, wanting your eyes on him; the very question begged you to look, and to take your time looking. Incrementally your longing grows, a swell in your chest that challenges the very depth of the lake, rushing through you until it cannot be contained.

'On whether you want me to like it,’ you clarify.

Leaning up to support his head on his hand, he looks at you and the hunger painted over his expression is enough to have your fists curling into the mattress. It stirs in you the need to be consumed, to be loved by his mouth and the palms of his hands, the greed in you not unlike an uprising. The flush in your neck spreads over your chest, your shirt constrictive and tight, suddenly no more room for you and all this impossible craving. Even still, Kyungsoo still remains calm, a king in the world of pleasure, looking at you as though you are a gift for feasting.

'I think people always want to be liked in some way, don't you think?’

A low growl lurks in the back of his voice, tone dropped down an octave to find gravel you have never heard before. All month, the nights have been uncharacteristically cool, heralding the slow death of summer as it bleeds into autumn, but you are heated. His gaze lives beneath your skin, now, a fire that refuses to burn out.

‘And,’ he carries on, as though you remain unlit, ‘I also don't think your opinion of me should depend on me. That's for you to make.'

Lips parted, mouth wanting to take him in, you mirror his pose and lean up on your arm. Slowly, you shake your head. 'That's not what I meant.'

The rasp in your voice surprises you both, and he smiles at the tension he has created, excited at the prospect of snapping it.

'Then what did you mean?' he presses, and you would rejoice at the sensuality of it, at the way the fullness of his lips shapes the words, but the appetite within him is like a hand at the center of your throat.

'I meant whether you want me to like it...' The admission drifts away, the choir of blood in your heart on fire with the weight of honesty. But you are glad for this burning, the fire that eats at you every bit his as it is yours. 'Whether my opinion matters.'

'Your opinion matters.' Kyungsoo doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t allow room for ambiguity or dishonesty. His eyes narrow, penetrative and demanding, keeping you still. 'You matter.'

Unfurling your hands, your fingers press into the sheets as though they are his shirt, his hands, his skin. The angular brutality of him has unmade the careful concealing you have spent years constructing. Hours ago, you had admitted that Kyungsoo makes you feel safe but now you are realizing the peril of letting him in - realizing you are the torment and the danger, little more than the ghosts of your desires. Now, you are starved for him, your tongue a desert aching to be drenched.

Tossing the sheets to the side, Kyungsoo moves his legs over the bed and rises to a stand, taller than you’ve ever seen him stand. Steel keeps his spine straight, shoulders rolled back in pause as though his mind is catching up with his limbs, before he crosses the small space and comes to sit on your bed. You don’t trust yourself with him this close, not anymore. Not after you have learned to love, not only him, but the very act of loving him.

Shifts closer to you, close enough he could touch all of you, not just your legs, your hips, your waist, your chest, but so too your face and your lips - close enough you can taste him on the air. With your lips parted, every breath you take is full of him, tongue wet and heavy with his flavor.

‘What are you doing?’

‘We aren’t like the others,’ he says plainly, fingers toying with the sheets beside your hands.

Your eyes drop to his hands, avoiding the power of the intimacy you find in his expression. It feeds into the room, your tongue coming to lick your lips and he takes in a shuddering breath, the very sound sending a jolt of desire between your thighs. Taking your silence as permission, he continues to speak, the very anguish of his words exhausted at the prospect of not having you.

‘We don’t…’ Taking a deep breath, he glances around the room, searching. ‘Flirt,’ he settles, though even this word does not seem to satisfy him. His gaze on you is hard, urging you to look up and see him, to meet his eyes and witness him. When you do, you’re certain you could smell his very heart, your blood suddenly full of his seductive magic. ‘At least, not like they do. I don’t make speeches and you don’t surrender, not unless you’ve been given explicit proof that it’s safe. That you’re right.’

It’s as though he looks down into you, deep enough that his gaze means to caress your ribs, your bones, wrapping himself around your spine until all your senses belong to him.

‘You see me.’ His teeth glide roughly over his bottom lip, nipping it quickly before releasing it, the blood beneath the skin rushing to make it more plump than it was before. ‘And I see you. I have never stopped seeing you. I’ve not wanted to stop seeing you, finding you, learning you since the day I met you.’

If you are the devil lurking in the dark, the hungry one with eyes of greed then he is the lust, the one who has torn through you and pulled out the language you have only just started to understand. The moment that follows is enormous, a moment in which you realize love is not only the act of feeling but the act of seeing, of being seen. He describes you as though he knows you, as though he knows the clawed and ugly parts of you that threaten to tear the fabric of your existence apart, and as though he loves even what he sees in those.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so aware of gravity, of the way language is not only a syntax but a physics, and of the way he has slowly inched closer and closer, your vision full of only him. With your eyes adjusted to the dark, you come to see yourself as a hawk, able to find yourself in his eyes, able to see yourself as he sees you - pupils dilated and not allowing you the privilege to remain invisible. In feeding on him, you feed on yourself, and so, too, you suppose does he feed on you, on himself, on the carnal savoring of your longing, united.

‘What are you saying,’ you whisper, certain he hears you, certain he hears your plea to be explicit.

‘I’m saying,’ he begins, lifting his hand to cup your chin. He holds it in his hand and pulls you close, his breath on your lips a fever, the feel of his bones pressing into yours sparking a voracious desire to be devoured, ‘if you are thinking of taking a risk, you are safe.’

His truth is a dawn breaking over your skin, spirit sanctified by the permission he grants you. Before you can even comprehend your actions you press your hands into the mattress and give yourself the momentum necessary to close the distance between your lips. The sheer force of the kiss gnaws at you, his free hand coming to wrap around your waist to pull you close. Flush against him, you think you are powerful enough to eat the moon, to eat the sun, to have him and keep him buried beneath your tongue.

He moans against your mouth, the sound of it shuddering against your chest and vibrating through you. Your own arms wind around his neck, fingers toying with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, unable to mind that this new position is awkward and difficult to sustain. You have managed much worse, have contained whole stars in the center of your chest for years and still have survived - you think you can manage the slant of your waist as he holds you against him, unforgiving.

Running his tongue along your lips, he asks for permission you are eager to grant, slipping his tongue against yours in a tentative stroke of possession. In your mouth, he is the blunt edge of a knife, cutting you deep enough that you think no other hands, no other lips will have their fill of you - no one else will have their fill and still find themselves engorged with an unconquered thirst. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you nip the flesh to a swell that feels warm and plump.

He smiles against you, pulling his lip away and you smile too, his voluptuous mouth a blessing.

‘You’re wrong,’ you murmur, grazing his lips as you speak.

Insatiable, he kisses you again, stealing what he can of you until you are breathless. ‘How so?’

Moving one hand from his neck, you cup his cheek and laugh, a sound he eats with his own chuckle. ‘We are exactly like the others.’

Author’s Note v2.0: i do not own the quotes from Virginia Woolf - To The Lighthouse; Dexter, the TV show; or Richard Siken - Scheherazade

tag list: @yehet-me-up @wonderlustlucas @junkfoodwriting @taestfully @heatofmyexoheart @majci @ahgishaman @softly-savage-mint-yoongi @lamichellee

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byunfirstlady · 4 years

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hi there byunfirstlady’s nation (no i’m kidding pls forgive me 🥺), it’s laure ! i hope everyone is feeling happy today and y’all are healthy.

today i hit 2k followers, it might be pathetic or useless to make a post about it, but i do this post to thanks all my followers who taked an interest into my blog ! i’m not gonna do a long speech bc first of all my english isn’t that good so sorry for your eyes, and second of all i’m really not good with words, so i will just tag some blogs and mutuals who make my tumblr experience worth it! but i think about all of my followers so don’t take it personally if i don’t tag you! i love y’all even if you’ve never interacted with me.

𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴 and some followers that i notice a lot in my notifs; (‘ㅅ’ in no particular order!! )

@mayrubyy & @suhoerections my baguette gang, i love the both of you so so so much, you helped me a loooot when i was feeling like shit, i will never thank you enough for this,, you make me laugh too much with your horny asses, and even if you aren’t so much active anymore, i feel so blessed to be supported by you. also, you’re so pretty, i’m really the pig of the gang lol ₍ఠ ͜ఠ₎

@pikayeollie kae!! beautiful and sweet kaeeeee, you’re my number 1 fan, no really, the way you hype me with my shitty gifs/edits/moodboards, i really don’t feel like i deserve you sometimes, but here you are (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ i learned a lot thanks to you, i will never be thankful enough, and you know that,, i’m sorry if sometimes (or everytime) i’m annoying, but really, thank you a lot!

@baek-byunies @baekberrie @ohh-baekhyun @xiuminscheeks @baekwell–tart @isakwon @twocupsofsuga @writingstuffandmore @hkynm @fullsuninbloom @taexual @heartcravings @yeoldotcom @baekonsforbreakfast @gyuniiverse @ephemeral-writings @marshmallow-phd @skyesins @baekhyun-is-daddy @monicaexol @sefuns @art-suhoe @myforeverforlife @rcse-tvler @cbxtual @exosmutxoxo @saltbaek @ssenshi8 @jongin-be-my-jagi @baeklooming-day @charmedbaek @guardians-of-exo @mint-yooxgi @timetoresurface @blackberrykai @itsmeayishaa @malovelyz @werejusttouchingeachother @simplyyeol @baekterflyeffect @baektempo @baekaulait @pastel-kpop @mochisubak @yeoldontknow for you all, if you ever shared some words with me now or in the past, reblogged my stuffs, or fangirled on exo with me, mentioning me on exo/or cute posts, etc, just thank you so much. i read all the tags, even a ‘prettyyy’ or a ‘WOWW!’ make me so happy and you’re all so precious to me, close or not. you have no idea of how much you can make my day better even with a reblog or a tag 🥺 for the writers’s one, i’m just a big fan of your writings, and even of my non mutuals, thank you for writing, you make my days more worth it and pretty ♡ i’m so grateful to know you all and for blessing me with your attention ᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )ᕗ

also, i might have forgotten people, if you’re not tagged then i’m really so fucking sorry i’m a loser but i think about you ʕ　·ᴥ·ʔ (too much smileys in this post it’s disgusting)

anyway, if you ever had the strengh to read this post to the end, I LOVE YOU and thank you (even if you didn’t,, but you’ll never know, it’ll be my little secret hehe) ♡

#2k followers #mutuals #♡#laure.text #don't hate me if I forgotten to tag you 🥺#if i forgoooooooooooooot********#follow forever

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jenmyeons · 4 years

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Favorite Fics 2019

hi hello it’s me your local mess. ok so this hit me on my way to work the other day and since it’s friday i feel like today is a good day to hopefully make someone’s day/night/weekend a little brighter?

i love reading fanfics. periodt. there are lots of incredible writers out there on this site and other platforms who take time to write beautiful fics about the real people and characters and their emotional support kpop ladies and gentlemen to show their love and appreciation so i want to dedicate this to my favorite fics of this year. these fanfics are of varying lengths and genres but they all have two things in common 1) they were posted this year 2) i love them.

(most of these are exo but i have some other groups sprinkled in there too)

other favorite fics of mine can be found under my fic recs tag!

A Decade of Midnights by @chogi-wae

queen of noir! grumpy chenneth! sexy detectives! murder mystery! do i even have to say anything else? oh yes! we also get coroner!baekhyun

ps: jae has a sequel started for this with two parts already having me at the edge of my seat. i love all of jae’s writing but this one takes the cake

Enough by @yeoldontknow

anything kat touches turns golden and holy mother of everything that is self-love and reflection. this is a fic for all us sexy ladies with a body that doesn’t conform to what society has decided is “beautiful”. i can’t call myself plus size in any way but i do not have a flat tummy or legs for days or perky titties. quite the opposite; i’m a short lady with love handles, saggy tits and stomach rolls (yes we’re going tmi here but it’s important ok). park chanyeol is the opposite of that and he’s the best fucking man ever in this fic. he’s a muscle man but he’s a man with the biggest heart and he says “you have a cute butt” which is enough reason for you to read this. when i feel bad about myself, i think about enough and i become a little happier

Empty Vessels

another yeoldontknow masterpiece! i stand by the statement that this is the best fic i have ever read. probably read this five times already and i think about it almost daily. junmyeon is a witch from salem and that’s only one of the many reasons for you to check this out and hopefully fall in love with it as much as i have. it’ll rip your heart out and stomp on it. dub me professional empty vessels promoter already kat!!

Dichotomy by @kyungseokie

dia hurts you in the best possible way with this fic. bawl my eyes out every damn time i read this because fucking hell this is emotional investment and hearts broken and everything hurts and this is not your average love triangle where one guy is obviously worse than the other. NO! this can go either way and you just want everyone to be happy and baekhyun needs a hug!

Teacher’s Pet by @suhoerections

teacher junmyeon getting called daddy “threatening” to bend you over his desk and fuck you hard is a lot for a suhoe stan such as myself to think about but i’m not mad, just jorny.

Clouded by @mayrubyy

uhm yes do you want to cry some more? this is an emotional rollercoaster, you have been warned! this fic has great potential and it’s maya’s child and when the next part is posted you know shit will go down and ashjgff i have no words only love for both the author aka my baby and the fic itself🥺💖

Familiar Stranger by @myforeverforlife

love love love love LOVE familiar stranger! a beautiful story about reader losing all memories of the last five years due to an accident which includes her entire life with fiancé kim jongdae. dae is an angel, we all know that, but he’s somehow even more angelic as the most patient person ever in familiar stranger. this hits right in the feels (can you tell i love to read angst ahjdsf) and it’s not your usual wham bam thank you ma’am all-memories-recovered-in-five-seconds kind of situation either and i’m praying for another update of this because this is not just one of the best fics of this year but one of my favorites period.

Sunny Side Up by @dreaminghaos

i love everything fee writes with a burning passion y’all

this fic is everything everything everything!!! i can’t get enough of this fic and i probably never will get enough of it either because i love this pairing and i’m in love with struggling writer!jeonghan

Magnetic by @softyexo

did anyone say ceo!myeon? this is a recent love of mine. i read it just the other day and have been thinking about it non-stop since. absolutely in love with oc’s and junmyeon’s dynamic in this one and it feeds all my lovesickness for this man made of pure husband material. thanks for coming to this ted talk.

Hold on to silence by @dropsofletters

amazing! show stopping! incredibly unique! absolutely astonishing! idiots in love! omg i LOVE this one! yixing as chanhun’s manager is everything i didn’t know i needed and holy crap this is such a lovely story please read it and experience the feels™

Neon Moon by @kyungseokie

they were roleplaying! ROLEPLAYING!

Trauma by @baekwell--tart

dad and secret mafia man!byun falls in love with his babysitter after being an absolute asshole to her and oh my god i am so invested in this masterpiece. whenever bella updates trauma i yell. i’ve re-read this many times already and i continue to find new reasons why i love this story with my whole entire being

Mr. Byun

bella once again proving that she writes the most amazing bbh fics. angst and smut combined i swear i was a whole lot worked up with all the spice in this one and then i cried like a baby when it ended. have i told you that i’m a very emotionally stable person?🤡

Bedazzling Heart of Gold by @baekonsforbreakfast

i love this song! baekhyun gets dumped and falls in love with oc who runs one of the biggest hostess bars in all of sk and holy crap you just love everyone in this fic. even that one character who you feel like you should hate but kind of still empathize with on a deeply emotional level. no? just me? ok then. i love you belle and i hope you know how much i enjoy your writing💗

Mr. Muscles by @chogi-wae

short and sweet drabble about oc biting jun’s bicep. no but for real i’ve read this one countless times and i just love a domestic jun so go ahead and read duality and dyson as well because nobody writes cute domestic fluff like jae ilysm

Money Makes Her Smile by @ninibears-erigom

mrs gom has written one of the dirtiest but also loveliest smut series of 2019. jongdae’s part was posted yesterday and holy fuck i have never read better jongdae smut ever i think

Business Before Pleasure by @pcychedelic

actor minseok! i repeat: actor minseok!

they get down and dirty in like the second chapter and i’m in love. not because of the obvious spiciness but because the amazing portrayal of minseok in this fic. love a strong female character? then you will love oc too!

High Voltage by @skyesins

SIN! THIS IS SIN! I LOVED EVERY SINGLE PART OF THIS FIC AND PART TWO IS EVEN BETTER!

there’s also the original ofc version on asian fanfics for those who aren’t into reader inserts and it’s just as good!

Literally every single aesthetic that @kpop-daze has written but some favorites include exo as broken love / exo as ephemeral tenderness / exo as fleeting heartbreak

Unfitting by @heechulhamster

SOLDIER MINSEOK SOLDIER MINSEOK SOLDIER MINSEOK that is all

no wait... this has real descendants of the sun vibes and i love it so much can i have a soldier!xiu por favor

Fire and Frost by @writing-exo-things

queen of drabbles! i love every single one of them but this one is next level™ i cried like a baby this is truly amazing!!!

Take Care by @omyeol

g o d i felt this fic on a deeply spiritual and emotional level

False Hope by @pastel-kpop

i hate you and i love you for writing this it still hurts reading this like YES MAKE ME HURT AYESHA THEY ARE IDIOTS

Mocha by @stainandscribble

the whole café series is lovely but mocha and espresso really stuck out to me i’m so soft for the whole aesthetic of these!

ever imagined that jackson wang is your date to your brother’s wedding? well @softseunies did and it turned out fucking amazing! what i love the most is that it’s very open for interpretation and of course jackson is always a mood when will he be my date and mayhaps potential bf at the wedding of the brother i don’t have?

little forest by @myforeverforlife

I LOVE THIS! DO YOU HEAR ME?! L O V E THIS!

not his to love by @boogerines

can you hear me sobbing? this hurts so much let me go back to crying over this again after i re-read this for the nth time

this blurb right here is adorable @sprinklesofktrash did that!

wild valley by @fairyyeols

wild valley is that bitch™ and that’s all i have to say i live and breathe for this installation of exo customs my favorite, in fact

blossoms in the wind by @marshmallow-phd

don’t @ me but this goblin!au with junmyeon as the goblin and baekhyun as the grim reaper is more intriguing than the drama and that’s saying a lot but i cry with every new chapter ohmygoddddd

wrong number by @yeoldotcom

i’m a hoe for fake texts and zee makes the best ones🥺🥺🥺🥺

also love love love bf!jun in food buddies

break up with me by @exoangst

don’t mind me i’m just crying in a corner as i read this for the millionth time and cry over how well written oc is and how fucking amazing that breakup scene is like has anyone done it like that before? maybe, idk but this is the only one that counts

#fic recs #2019 favorites #here it is!#I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH YOU'RE ALL AMAZING AND I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT #got carried away as usual but i love to support content creators on this hellsite #maybe i'll do this for other things as well?#drama recs anyone?

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7wanderingpaws · 3 years

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I really really loved simply yours so much. Baekhyun's character is gem in simply yours, would love to read prequel and sequel both but first prequel, i wanna read country boy baek first. Also do you have any recommendations where Baekhyun is portrayed similar to how you portrayed him in simply yours and burn your bridges? (Respectful,mature and loving Baekhyun) tumblr or aff anywhere, then please do recommend me some!!!

Thank youuu, so glad to know that you loved SY!!!❤🤩 I counted your vote for prequel then! :)

Oh! The truth is that I created this story because I never saw it before. Or at leastthere was always an element that was off-putting for me. Since I didnt find stories that I wanted to read, I decided to write SY and Baekhyun the way I wanted and liked ><

I have a ficrec tag on tumblr that you can check too since its been a while since I read something that I genuinely liked to the point that I would go back and re-read it (pls recommend if you can!) but here are some of my faves: Been Through by vanillasushi (AFF) is pure Baekhyun-perfectionism (but beware, many trigger warnings). Doctor Byun by byunism (AFF) The War in our Hearts by Scarlet_Sky (AFF) Ephemeral by Paigedarling0506 (AFF) Jekyll and Hyde, Black and White by baekingpancakes (tumblr) - these two are my absolute most favourite and still make my heart flutter And literally ANY fic by baekberrie (tumblr) she is the epitome of softness

Hope this helped? I hope so. ><

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hautecores · 5 years

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Hi just saw the requests are open and I would like to requests a mafia au with baekhyun, like the reader getting in danger because of him, aangst please.

One look in the mirror had you wishing you could say you didn’t sign up for that.

Naivete, however, never suited you. After all, what kind of person drives around a different Italian car each day of the week and have dinner at fancy restaurants with no need for a reservation? You knew exactly what you got yourself into from the moment you met him.

Everything about Baekhyun yelled something was off. Yet, it wasn’t about it.

It wasn’t about your friend’s midnight secretive call for favour and, most importantly, discretion. It wasn’t about a complete stranger showing up at your doorstep with a bleeding lower lip and a deep opened wound on his shoulder. It was about Baekhyun’s damn hair which looked as if it could always use some cut and his charming fingers that were insistently touching his mouth whenever you put your eyes on him.

The night you met, no questions were asked and you sutured his wounds with your lips sealed, only opening them wide when he fucked you.

His mysterious night visits were frequent at first, but you loved how they slowly shifted into him coming around without a reason. You loved the edge he hauled you to whenever he dropped by, how he smelled like excitement and blew you wild with a never-ending lust. You were lurking on the frenzy, ambushed by the hunger being on the verge evoked on the two of you.

So maybe that was why you weren’t scared when you were dragged to an alley, hands immobilised and mouth acquiring an iron taste. You still weren’t scared now, treating your wounds with the same delicacy you always treated his, feeling in your guts what he feels and understanding why he whines so damn much. In pain, yes. Yet, not scared of the things you were put through because of him.

When Baekhyun got home, the door shut with his loud and violent urge to see you. He rushed towards the white lights of the bathroom, heart on his hands and desperation to be seen.

“It’s just a bit of blood, Baek,” you lied, even though everything hurt on the inside of your mouth. He wasn’t supposed to arrive while you were still putting yourself together, but you knew that sort of information spread out like wildfire and its flames burned down his voice when he said;

“It was a warning,” you could feel his teeth crunching from afar without even looking. A warning, a painful one. They made sure you were a threatening-enough message to be delivered to Mr Byun, wrists aching and matching bruises. A part of you was surprised it took them so long to give him a lesson; since Baekhyun ensured to brag about you at any chance throughout playing around the enemy’s garden.

He stood there, framed by the opened door waiting for you to act. Your bodies were mirroring each other and the glance you avoided, seemed loaded with heavy guilt. For that brief moment, everlasting in your couple of breaths, you wished you could escape just so you wouldn’t have to face him, to reappear only when there were no traces of hurt left, with wrongs long gone as if they’ve never existed.

“Look at me, just look at me,” that started as authoritarian and ended up in a plea, a sore voice that could shatter like skin under the sun. There was something in his words and the way they died on his throat, the way he begged like a gentleman who knows exactly what lies ahead, that made you gave in.

You withdrew the curtain of hair covering your face up with hesitation and raised your sight to his cautioned eyes. It seemed to happen in slow motion, the way fear conquered his expression, a tint of darkness in his brown eyes. You would have expected anything from him, but that uneasy feeling which could never belong in his demeanour. It was so misplaced and nothing like the Baekhyun you were used to - lively in his forbidding dares and fearless attitudes.

With his silence, you could even hear a beat being skipped and watching his lips grow pale was more ruthless than the cold blood treatment you were given.

Your faces were close but Baekhyun saw past you, not focusing on anything but the bruise on your jaw, growing an infuriated and frustrated heat on him, in unbalanced emotions that blasted his senses. For the first time since you two met, he seemed not to know what to do, what to say or how to react. He disarmed you with his sadness, broke your heart like no other lover and made you scared for the first time that night. It was like realising, in a sudden hit, how ephemeral life can be and that life without each other wouldn’t have the same meaning.

“Babe, I’m sorry…” it seemed as if you were being punished again, just by being the source of his anguish. His looks were of an innocent child, dying to make up to you and you were thrilled by the sincerity dripping on his eyelids.

“Don’t be,” you said, feeling apologetic yourself. His trembling hands reached for you and he touched your face reluctantly, as if he couldn’t believe you weren’t scattering in pieces, couldn’t believe you were still there for him. Your eyebrows flinched when he put too much pressure into the cut, not really used to be in the caregiver side, and you kept your eyes shut, feeling the tears spreading and having no strength to fight them back. You didn’t want Baekhyun to see you cry. Not for hurt or even pride, but because shedding tears meant there was something to be sorry for.

You felt in his embrace, by the way he quivered his blame out, he fought the tears just like you. That made you realise how much he cared and that recognition got you sure you could never die in the hands of the enemy if it meant that look would be on his face again. His safe arms convinced you Baekhyun meant all the midnight promises he made under the covers and that the tenderness in his voice was genuine whenever he called your name. They assured he loved you in the hardest way, with his uncut hair and his charming fingers on his mouth.

And you fucking signed up for all of that.

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paigedarling0506 · 9 months

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Ephemeral: Chapter 04

Broken Ride ❁

*.☽.*

It had almost been a month since that fateful day I saw the guy who turned out to be The Byun Baekhyun of this country.

Believe it or not, I went back to the Hiking Place the very next day. Though I knew that there was a big possibility that he might not show up again because he wouldn't be that careless after bumping into a stranger, I did it anyway.

The truth was, I started to like his music. The way his voice sounded like honey whenever he sang love songs. The way it left a little tug in my heart when he sang a sad ballad. And before I knew it, almost half of my playlist was already filled with his songs.

I just knew there was a fangirl slowly growing in me and I certainly wanted to see him again. Not that I knew what to tell him or to react when I see him again. I just wanted to see him, maybe just to confirm that meeting him last time wasn't a dream or a product of my imagination.

Then again, as expected, I never saw him up there again. It made me sad a little of course. I continued to hike anyway, telling myself that he was not the main reason I went there in the first place. Which was mostly true. It was my healing place even before he showed up. Meeting him up there was nothing but a pure coincidence.

*.☽.*

It was a late Saturday afternoon when I decided to climb up the old hiking place again. I thought it was a good idea to come here a little later to avoid the scorching sun. It was almost Autumn but it was still hot which was starting to be annoying. That, and the thought that my bike chain broke made me think otherwise. It broke down fifteen minutes away from the entrance of the hiking place. As a result, I was forced to walk from there. I felt like a fool not checking it before coming here.

When I finally reached the entrance, I leaned it next to the signage. I fished for my hair tie inside my bag and made a messy ponytail. I bent my knees to examine it afterward. To be honest, I didn't know what to do with it since it was the first time it happened to me. Like any normal human being who had a broken bike, I started to do what I thought was the right thing. To try and fix it. It appeared to me that the chain got detached from the crankset. Roaming my attention on the ground around me, I saw a stick near me. It looked quite useful, so I grabbed it.

It looked easy at first until my first attempt failed. The second one was not any different and the third failed attempt followed. I huffed the loose strands of my hair falling on my face out of frustration.

"Will you cooperate, please?" I pleaded not knowing if it was for the bike or my inexperienced self. "I need you to go home."

I roamed my attention around once more and instantly got worried imagining what it'd be here like when it started to get dark.

Shaking the scary thought away, I made my fourth attempt to fix my injured bike. I was in the middle of trying again when I heard something that halted what I was doing. Stopping halfway, I listened.

It sounded like a car coming in my direction and it kind of freaked me out. Knowing that not a lot of people knew about this place anymore, I didn't waste any time. I suspended what I was doing immediately. I stood and looked for a place to hide. My brain lagged for a brief second before I ran and hid right behind the nearby bushes. Since I was about 165cm, I needed to make sure my head wouldn't give me away. I crouched as low as I could to cover my entire profile. My hands landed on the ground which I also retrieved and proceeded to place on my lap. I was certain that anyone who would see me now would laugh at me. Honestly, what would my parents say if they found out that their daughter left her stable job and life in Australia just to hide behind the bushes like this? I dwelt on the thought for a few more seconds until the vehicle reached the entrance of the hiking place.

I briefly watched as a sleek, black car stopped right next to my bike. My eyes were on it while my mind was also busy thinking of a way for me to escape. My head filled with images of a goon coming out of the car. Tilting my head to the right, I saw a medium-sized rock a foot away. I struggled to stretch my arm and grabbed it. Held it close to me like it was supposed to save my life.

At least, I had something to defend myself with.

"Don't let me die, please don't let me die." I chanted silently as I slouched more, pressing my eyes closed.

For some reason, it became really quiet and I could audibly hear the car's door is opened and closed. My heartbeat was speeding as I bit my lower lip.

The footsteps came afterward leaving the dried leaves crushed under the person's feet. I was fighting my curiosity, convincing myself not to take a peek but then again I had always been a curious cat. I slowly lifted my head to check only to have my jaw dropped.

I almost poked my face with the stick, which I was still holding by the way, out of surprise when I recognized who the newcomer was.

It was him.

It was Byun Baekhyun.

He was the exact person I saw on TV and on the videos I watched that day I found out who he was. Only now he looked more casual and laidback. He was wearing a navy blue cap, gold round specs, and a loose, plain, grey shirt paired with pants and sneakers.

I was still staring at him in disbelief. He roamed his attention around, probably looking for the owner of the broken bike. I ducked, shutting my eyes closed not knowing why I had to do it.

The next moment I get to open my eyes, I happen to have an eye to eye contact with a hideous, crawling bug next to my foot on the ground. My breath hitched as I looked at it unbelievably. I blinked my eyes a few times hoping it'd magically disappear but it was still there. I hate bugs and this one right here made me feel so uncomfortable. I watched its legs make slight movements towards me and it gave me goosebumps. Without having second thoughts, I shrieked and jumped away from where I was hiding, obviously and voluntarily revealing myself out in the open.

I sure made a few incomprehensible sounds as I flee from the tiny bug. By the time I came back to my senses, I was panting. My hands, still holding the stick and the rock, were on my chest trying to calm myself due to the sight of the bug. I bent a little, my hands landed on my knees for support.

"I... hate...bugs," I said in between my heavy breathing.

I was so busy trying to compose myself, completely forgetting that I was not alone anymore.

"Where did that come from..." I trailed off as the realization hit me.

My face started to feel hot, fully remembering why I was hiding earlier. My eyes darted to the objects in my hands which probably made me look like I was a character from Flintstones.

I slowly looked up and saw him already gaping at me. The shock was written all over his face too. His attention lingered on my face before he looked at me from head to toe. He probably recognized me because his face relaxed a little bit.

"Hey." He greeted me, giving me a small hand wave.

"Hi," I replied nervously as I straightened my awkward posture.

I was almost two meters away from him and I didn't know whether to come closer or give him more space.He was a celebrity after all. It even felt wrong to stare at him right now.

"Uhm." He scratched his neck. "You're not going to hit me with that stone, are you?" He wondered as he pointed to the stone I was holding.

"Uh, no," I replied as I immediately dropped the stone, as well as the stick I was holding.

I saw his lips curve into a small smile while he shoved his hands inside his jeans' pockets.

"What were you doing behind the bushes?" He asked once more.

I bit my lower lip, debating if I should tell him the truth. Then I realized that there was no time for me to make up stories and to be honest I doubt my mind would be able to come up with coherent thoughts.

Yes, not when I have a whole Byun Baekhyun staring at me right at this instant.

"Well...I.." I paused as I hesitantly pointed at my bike. "I was trying to fix my bike when I heard a car approaching. I got a little scared so I hid." I answered.

He chuckled, obviously laughing at me. I couldn't blame him.

"I realized that it was a bad idea when a hideous bug decided to keep me company," I explained trying to sound as rational as I could.

"What were you so scared of?" He asked followed by a lopsided smile. "Aside from the bug, I mean."

"Well, people don't usually come up here anymore. So, I was just being careful." I told him. "If you know what I mean."

He nodded as he took a hand out of his pocket to point at my bike.

"Did you overwork your bike or something?" He told me, a slight tinge of teasing in his tone. "Looks like it finally gave up on you."

It was my turn to nod. I wasn't sure if I had the right to laugh at his remark.

"Let me take a look." He presented, walking towards my ride.

I saw him bend his knees in front of it, ready to check on it. I immediately ran and stopped beside him.

"No!" I protested bending my knees next to him. "No, please. It's okay, I can fix it." I insisted.

Thinking how huge of a celebrity he is, I definitely shouldn't let him fix my stupid bike. Ji Hye would probably hate me if she knew I made her idol fix it.

He threw a puzzled look at me.

"Okay." He agreed anyway, signaling me to go ahead and fix it.

I hesitated for a bit before I tried to make my fourth attempt. I knew he had his eyes on me while I was trying to work on my bike. For real though, it was making me a hundred times more conscious and uncomfortable now. I probably looked like a fool who kept on failing m attempts.

"You already know who I am, right?"

I froze.

His question was unexpected that the stick that I was using broke, probably because I suddenly became tense. We both darted our eyes to the broken stick as we heard the cracking sound.

I took a deep breath before I glanced at him only to turn to my ride once more as soon as I met his eyes.

"Byun Baekhyun," I muttered.

I casually turned away to search for a replacement stick. When I found what I judged was a perfect stick, I heard a clicking sound. Turning to check on it, I saw him already working on it. He was already working on the bike chain using his bare hands.

"What are you doing?" I asked unbelievably with a small gasp escaping my mouth.

"This is why I hoped you won't figure out who I am." He replied without paying me a single glance as he continued to do what he was doing.

"What do you mean?"

"You're all awkward and tensed around me now." He briefly turned my way to meet my eyes. "I liked it better the last time."

I didn't know how to respond to what he just said. Was I that obvious around him? Did he notice how much I wanted the ground to just eat me alive right now?

I decided to keep quiet as I watched him. I was fully aware that I couldn't stop him from doing what he was already doing. It would be so wrong to whine about it.

"It's not just the chain, it's the crankset too. It's loose, maybe broken. You have to have it fixed." He announced after a few minutes of examining it.

"We can't fix it here?" I asked, worried.

He moved his head sideways.

"You need to have it changed."

I slumped upon hearing it. My bike was the only means of transportation I had to take me home since there wouldn't be any public vehicles around this area.

"I should've checked it before I left," I muttered, regret evident in my voice.

My attention fell on his grease-covered hands.

"Your hands," I exclaimed. "You didn't have to use your bare hands."

"It's okay." He answered. "Don't worry." He added as he tried to get rid of the grease but only made it worse.

"No, of course, it's not okay. And it's all my fault." I protested.

"It's really fine." He insisted, probably not wanting me to feel bad or something.

"Ah wait," I said as I stood, fishing for a pack of wet tissue from my purse.

He also stood next to me. Without thinking straight, I hastily grabbed his hands and started to wipe the grease off of them. I was concentrating on taking off the grease and was halfway done when I realized what I was doing. I was holding his hand and found out that he was staring at me intently when I looked up to check his reaction.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, letting his hands go as I got burnt from touching them. His lips formed into a subtle curve. I had to force myself to ignore how handsome he looked when he did that by giving him the pack of wet tissue.

His smile was glued to his face as he took it from me. He finished what I had started and wiped his hands clean. I turned the other way hoping he wouldn't see the pink tinges on my cheeks as I felt myself blushing in embarrassment.

"Here." He said handing the wet tissue to me. "Thanks."

I took it from him and was about to put it back inside my bag when he stopped me. I just stared at him waiting for him to explain to me why he did it. I probably looked confused as I stared back at him. He took the pack again and pulled one out before handing it to me.

"My hands are okay," I said as I checked them in front of him.

"Not your hands." He replied as he pointed at my face.

My forehead creased trying to figure out what he meant exactly. Before I could even say a word, he already extended a hand to wipe something on my right cheek using the wet tissue.

What's happening?

All I could do was to continue looking at him, I was too surprised to even move or protest.

I wasn't sure this time if it was because of embarrassment brought by the dirt on my cheek or because of what he was doing that my face started to feel warm. I was certain I'd look like a strawberry any moment from now.

"There, all clean and..." He said when he finished wiping my face. "Beautiful."

The corner of his lips turned upward which made me focus on that little mole right above his lip.

"Oh my god, stop," I told him as I turned away.

I couldn't take it, the need to fan my face was strong.

"This is so awkward."

I heard a small laugh from him. "I'm sorry."

*.☽.*

"Are you done?" He asked, changing the subject which I was secretly thankful for. "Hiking, I mean." He added.

"Not yet," I said moving my head sideways.

"Me too." He announced. "Obviously."

I didn't respond because he was right, I felt tense around him. I didn't know how to act naturally, this was crazy.

"Shall we do it together?" I heard him ask.

"Uhm..."

My mind practically lagged because of his words.

"I'd like that..."

"But?" He asked as he must've sensed the reluctance in my tone.

"But now that my ride's broken, I have to get going since it's," I paused to check my watch "almost five already. I have to walk to the town." I reasoned out.

"Not if you let me take you home."

His reply was brief and confident.

"What?" I muttered.

Was he kidding? He was, right?

"Well my ride's not broken so..." he trailed off, his eyes trying to read my expression. "I can take you and your bike home."

"No. Please don't do that." I refused.

"Wow, how could I be rejected two times in a row." He laughed, moving his head sideways.

"Oh no, no, no," I said in a slightly panicked voice. "I mean I know how careful you people are with your private lives."

He stared at me as if waiting for my next words.

"What if someone sees you, takes your picture, and posts it online?" I went on, hoping he'd get what I meant. "It's not safe for you. Really I just don't want to put you in a tight situation that's all."

He nodded at me, seemingly getting my point.

"Actually, if you're so into protecting my identity, which I appreciate, by the way, thank you very much. I can take you home without getting off the car." He said in a matter-of-fact tone. "In that case, no one will see me, take a picture, and post it online." He paused to make way for a smile. "So, no you're not going to put me in a tight situation."

I contemplated for a few seconds as if my life depended on it.

"I'm a good driver too." He added, obviously trying to convince me.

"Okay," I said, finally giving in to his idea. "But, you can drop me off near the entrance of the town. It wouldn't be that far from my Aunt's flower shop so I can walk from there."

I saw him smile widely upon hearing my reply.

"Copy that."

We exchanged looks and of course, I was the first one to look away. I needed to do that or else I'd start melting right away and it wouldn't be because of the scorching sun. *.☽.*

#baekhyun #baekhyun fic #bbh #exo #kpop imagines #writing fanfic #writing #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #baekhyunxoc #ephemeral baekhyun #ephemeral

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