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Anything by allhandson_deck. Allow Me to Serenade You. Title: Allow Me to Serenade You [1/3]Rating: PG (plus profanity)Length: total 20,354Pairing/Fandom: EXO, Luhan/Chen (Luchen) Side: Baexing, Krisyeol, TaohunSummary: When Luhan’s friends dare him with a money bet to win over the unsuspecting RA of Walker 4th floor, they had no idea he’d actually take it. Let alone dedicate himself so vigorously to it.Disclaimer: I don't own anything worthy everNotes: I don't even know where to start.

I am that ashamed. This is what happens when I am useless at work and galbijiim shows me High School Musical and Enchanted because bored. Crack. Spawn of Crack. “Who the fuck sings in crowded parks?” “It’s Enchanted,” Yixing says, trying to push Luhan off of where he is sprawled on top of his and Baekhyun’s lap. “I consider full sequenced dance numbers in public venues completely unnecessary,” Baekhyun says, watching lazily as Luhan rolls back into his spot of slouching against the armrest.

“I know,” Baekhyun says, smirking back before kissing him softly. Anterograde Tomorrow. I DON'T OWN THIS STORY I JUST WANTED TO SHARE THIS FIC BECAUSE I FUCKING ADORE THE STORY SO FULL CREDITS TO "CHANGDICATOR A.K.A CLAIRE THE AWESOME AUTHOR of ANTEROGRADE TOMORROW♥ Chapter: 1 Kyungsoo has a scrapbook of faces and dates. Polaroid collage with little sentences inscribed underneath. This is Zitao, new Chinese waiter doing Wednesday night shifts (6 June 2010); here is Yifan, model requesting Rhapsody in Blue with a dry whiskey every Sunday (19 December 2009); Baekhyun there, but he moved out (6 July 2008).

It’s a synopsis of Do Kyungsoo: neighbors, acquaintances, old friends, new strangers, presented with military precision. Near the end is a snapshot of a hunched figure, leaning on a brick wall, with one knee bent and the other propping his entire weight. Two words are scratched underneath. The newspaper is dated 12 July 2012. Hastily scanning over the headlines of ‘massive disorder in downtown Seoul caused by raining money’, Kyungsoo focuses back on the picture. Arbitrage. [street race AU... or is it.] There are three tracks to Do Kyungsoo's life. Track A, trader at an investment bank. Track B, new recruit of a race crew called EXO. Track C... track C involves someone named Kai and a whole lot of bad decisions.

Kyungsoo wakes up to the rough scratch of asphalt concrete against his face and the damp earthy smell of drizzling rain assaulting his nose with every breath. He can still hear the echo of his pounding heart, loud and insistent in the quiet air of the early morning. The windows of the first room from the right on the second floor of his apartment building are open when he gets there. He passes by a newspapers stand on his way. "Hey. " Kyungsoo shuffles on his feet. "Kyungsoo, right? Kyungsoo bites down on his bottom lip. "Oh. " Then somehow he ends up in the passenger seat of the Hyundai, sitting still with hands folded in his laps, careful not to smear blood on the car's interior as Jongdae periodically glances at him during the drive. "Kyungsoo. " A Beast in Repose. Title: A Beast In ReposeRating: NC17Pairing: Kai/KyungsooLength: 17kDisclaimer: I do not own the boys.Summary: A modern retelling of Beauty and the Beast.

And by modern I mean no magic or curses or castles, so bear that in mind please. "You can watch me corrode like a beast in repose. " -- My Chemical Romance Optimists will say everything happens for a reason; when one door shuts, a window opens. Kyungsoo's life is a series of closed doors that lead to windows he's forced to pry open in desperation. Every dream and aspiration he's ever had has been crushed, burnt to ash as he watches the smoldering remains float away on the wind. At twelve years old his mother succumbs to cancer, leaving him with a father who was already showing signs of instability. It's no surprise when his mind goes less than a year later, a thirteen year old son left to take care of them both. Kyungsoo has always wanted to sing, to be on a stage surrounded by thousands of people who want to hear his voice.

Wednesday. Buttoned Up. 12100w > hunhanqt side krisyeol > carpe diem by specialises sehun is emotionally & verbally crippled. but yay, lu han is there to save our shipon the sideline, chanyeol harasses yifan on a regular basis ~pepper~ you're precious & i'd be sad if you don't visit me with cookies. please heart me back new life mission: one sentence ficsi only write touchy-feely lu han. ik, one trick pony, that's me, hi therewhy is this so small Sehun is as magical as a paper cup. But don’t let him know that because he will ask you the Why (“Because you’re just about as interesting as a cup.” “Oh. Yes, because clearly, you really think he’s a paper cup.

Besides the inability to absorb similes, Sehun is also incapable of injecting changes into his life. It is, in fact, just a regular booth which consists of a table, red tablecloth and two people. (The Avoid Strange Humans Strategy1. Sehun picks up his pace and walks with determination to the table where Chanyeol is waving frantically to him (nothing’s up. “I am?” Camera (Shy) Camera (shy), joonmyun + jongin, 18+ (for sexual content), au, 28,900 wordsjongin is suho's biggest fan, but strangely enough, he finds deceptively mild-mannered joonmyun even more intriguing. a/n: for dmtn . ✬ ✬lo lamento, perezocita. lo lamento.also in fulfillment of a trope bingo square! It is totally and completely normal to have a favorite porn star.

It's like having a favorite athlete, or a favorite musician. It's not any different than his older sisters and their favorite idols, really. Only, while his big sisters go gaga over U-Know and Hero, Jongin prefers the lean thighs and silly smiles of Suho, the star of pretty much all of Jongin's ~sexual fantasies~ since he was sixteen. His parents had bought him a laptop to improve his study habits, and Jongin had discovered true love.

"Hear a loud noise from the speakers and pass out in fright," Chanyeol says, which has Jongin throwing his History of Finance book across the room to hit Chanyeol smack in the head. "You! "No! " "Fuck you—" Complications. The first thing Baekhyun notices when he arrives in Beijing is that it’s hot; sweltering, even, the humidity clinging to him like saran wrap and wilting his hair. The second thing Baekhyun notices, when he sees his ride waiting for him, casually dressed in soccer shorts and wearing a carefree smile, is that Lu Han’s hair is neon orange. “Baekhyun!” Lu Han yells, waving his arms back and forth aggressively, almost slapping a passerby in the face. “Over here!” “Were you under the impression I wouldn’t see you?” “I’m mixing things up!

“It’s certainly fluorescent.” “Nope,” Lu Han says. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.” “You could at least pretend you missed me, Byun Baekhyun!” “I’m here, aren’t I?” “This from the man who turned the heat up too high in our apartment for three years.” “Wo ai ni,” Baekhyun says, flashing Lu Han a grin. “I really am glad you came to visit,” Lu Han says over dinner. It’s been the same since they’ve met, really. “Beijing is a magnificent city.” “You get used to it.” Default State of Being. "You should use the word philatelist. " "I'm not using philatelist. " "But doesn't it sound so dirty? " "Do you even know what it means? " "Does it really matter? " Kyungsoo ran a hand through his already tousled hair in frustration. They were seated at a small table for two by the window in a coffee shop, the man in front of him smiling with that evil glint in his eye.

Silence? When you were in Jongin's company, silence either meant he was finally passed out or he was planning to do something stupid. The older man opened his eyes to an empty seat across from him. After taking a small sip of his piping hot coffee, Kyungsoo finally set the mug down and fished a small notepad and pen out of his jacket pocket. ---Initial Contact: Two years, three months and seventeen days earlier--- Kyungsoo was staring at the screen of his laptop in the hopeless desperation words would start appearing on the screen without his help.

Kyungsoo was a novelist. He let his head fall on his desk with a resounding thunk. The Doctor and the Pirate. Zhang Yixing is woken in the absolute middle of the night by heavy, urgent knocking on his door. In England, this would have been rare, and cause for alarm. No one would have pounded on his door this late unless it was a real emergency - the English are far too polite for that. But he’s not in England anymore. He’s in Tortuga, and midnight door-poundings are commonplace. Still, Yixing is a professional, so he rouses quickly, throwing on a dressing gown and lighting a lamp on his way to unlock his front door. He is greeted by a blinding smile, improbably white teeth flashing in the dim light of his lamp. He blinks myopically. “Pardon me,” the man with the teeth says politely. Yixing blinks at him again. The man smiles again, and though it is no less bright, no less handsome, Yixing sees that it is tight around the edges.

“You have quite the intuition, sir,” he quips, stepping aside. Yixing steps back into the house. The four men follow him back. “Chanyeol, sir.” Another mad grin. “Honey?” Ea$y Money. “We’ll just have to move,” Chanyeol says, running his hands through newly shorn hair as he looks down at the notice. “I mean, we could always just move to a smaller place.” “It doesn’t really get much smaller than this,” Kris replies. “Besides, where are we supposed to move to, Chanyeol?” They already live in a shoebox. A tiny apartment meant for one person, not for two, but Chanyeol’s a grad student and Kris is a writer, and it isn’t like they’ve got a ton of money to throw around.

“Besides, moving is expensive.” “Moving is expensive,” Chanyeol grumbles, scuffing the toe of his sock on the tile of their kitchen floor. “More like the student loans are balls deep in you,” Kris replies, scrubbing his hands on his jeans. Chanyeol huffs and pouts, and Kris barely restrains himself from petting Chanyeol’s hair. “It’s a noble cause,” Kris says. “Your best friend wears about four dead baby animals a day,” Chanyeol replies. “We’ll figure something out,” Kris says, patting Chanyeol’s back.

“No!” Endgame. Sleeping with the lover of East Asia's most dangerous arms dealer wasn't one of Oh Sehun's brightest ideas. Pain was just a form of information. The line played over and over in his head, running like tiny electric shocks through his body, from the pain receptors to the spinal cord to the brain. This was just his sensory nerves sending information to the brain, identifying and processing and cataloguing the information, cross-checking with the existing database. He had never felt this before, but the information his brain sent back in response to the pain told him he was going to die.

Kai blinked slowly. His shoulders were twitching. He blinked again. The older man was smiling down at him, cheekbones rising up high, smile lines deep around his eyes. "Open up. " The man was still smiling, his voice soft and gentle as if he was talking to a small child. Except he didn't want to die, not really. The cock of the hammer was deafeningly loud in the dark. "No, definitely not, sir. "You're fast. How to Pet: A User's Guide. Title: How To Pet: A Users Guide 1/12Author: Drainbamage954Pairing: Luhan/Jongdae - LuChenRating: NC-17 (like, seriously, NC-17, I'm not kidding guys)Wordcount: Total 83KDisclaimer: I only own the ridiculously heinous story. The people aren't mine.Summary: Luhan has never really been able to get along with cats. Until Joonmyun gets one and his life is turned into even more insanity that it already is.Warnings list:(highlight to read) Sexual situations, profanity, hand jobs, blow jobs, platonic petting, sexual petting, PETTING IN GENERAL, Jongdae’s legs, collar play, scratching, asshole!

Joonmyun, non-violent hitting, Wufan, marking, bondage, spoons, catnip, Sehun’s tongue, unprotected fucking, feelings, unprepared fucking. I may have forgotten some…Notes: Inspired because of Joyce, who gives me ideas that wont go away. This may be the weirdest thing I have ever done, and that includes when I made Chanyeol a tree. Luhan has a problem. Luhan thinks he’s hopeless. “You got a cat?” “No!” Marital Sabotage. This is probably Yixing’s fault. ‘This is all your fault,’ Lu Han says to Yixing on the phone. This is probably Yixing’s fault in some manner. How, Lu Han doesn’t know. But after spending twenty four of his twenty six years on this planet in Yixing’s company, it’s kind of instinct to blame anything and everything on Yixing.

It’s Yixing’s fault that Lu Han is attending this wedding alone—that last minute trip of his and Yifan’s has pissed him off greatly—and drunk. ‘What thingy?’ ‘Umm, the thingy that’s like a garden but not exactly. ‘The word you’re looking for is courtyard,’ a low, amused voice says from beside him, and Lu Han shrieks and almost drops the phone. He turns around to glare at the dictionary-attacker, and comes face to face with something straight out of Nature’s Mysteries.

‘Yixing, I’m gonna call you back,’ Lu Han says and puts his phone away. ‘Hey,’ the kid grins. ‘Are you trying to hit on me?’ The kid’s eyes widen comically, and he shakes his head. ‘Why so?’ ‘What thingy?’ Masquerades. Baekhyun’s feet are cold, and he wriggles his toes as he slowly comes awake. There’s a steady stream of light coming in through the curtains by his bed, tickling at his closed eyelids, and Baekhyun sleepily rubs his hand over his face.

The cottony taste of sleep is lying heavy on his tongue, and there’s a chill in the air that sneaks under his comforter and makes goosebumps rise on his arms. His alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so Baekhyun curls onto his side, relishing his king-sized bed and how luxurious it feels to wallow under his three quilts and know he doesn’t have to move for at least a little while. Later, he’ll have to venture out into the cool December weather, hoping the sidewalks aren’t icy and slick as he commutes to his lab. But for right now, at least, there’s only the soft cotton of his sheets and the dull noise of people beginning their days from outside as he enjoys the cool side of his favorite pillow and a trickle of sunshine along his face. “Jongin!” “Coming!” “What-“ “Dr. In Monochrome. There is only you and your camera.

The limitations in your photography are in yourself, for what we see is what we are. – Ernst Haas Yixing dreams in shades of gray. It’s kind of like an old-time movie, still photographs linked together, rich with shade instead of vibrant color. He dreams of butterflies with ink-dark wings and bright white skies tinged cinereal at the corners, heather clouds and ashen grass; he dreams of interlocked fingers and a smile he can’t forget.

When he wakes up, everything is once again in color, but for the briefest moment, he longs for the simplicity of grayscale, and how much clearer everything seems without the wheel of red, yellow, blue to distract him from the sharper angles of the world. The Beijing subway is terribly crowded during the day. Yixing is jostled here and there, as people push past him on their way to work, or to meet friends, or to make it to their university classes on time. Yixing isn’t headed anywhere, though. Photographs tell stories. “But-“ Not to Notice. Office Antics. Primitive. A Prince and His Guard. Quick on the Shoot. Sova Boys. Supernova.

Take It From the Top. That Summer Magic. The Thin Line Between. The Twelve Days. Universal Languages. Zodiac.