♡ Kibummie and Channie ♡

Blog of many assorted Chankey/Keyyeol things! Short-fics, edits, pictures, and whatever else happens to cross my mind ^^ Please feel free to request a certain topic, and feel free to submit a picture (no limitations~) and I'll write something on just that picture ^^ Thanks for stopping by!

[ourlittletales]

I very very lIke

Wahh thank you dear, I'm glad you do ^^ <3

[ourlittletales]

“Take care, Chanyeol. I love you very much, don’t forget that.”

 -

“Don’t say it like that; it sounds too much like goodbye…”

 -

“Thank you, Park Chanyeol, for lifting me up, even when I had no hope left.

Thank you for leaving flowers at my bedside;

and learning my IV schedules so the nurses didn’t work so much,

so you could stay past visiting hours to keep me company.

Thank you for opening the blinds to let the light in when all I’d come to know was darkness.

Thank you for loving me;

for staying by my side even when you didn’t know if I’d wake up in the morning.

Thank you, for everything…”

 -

“No, you’re lying! He… he was doing better this morning! I saw him!”

 -

Kim Kibum, time of death; 12:53 PM, 09.29.2013

[ourlittletales]

HEAVILY INFLUENCED BY 135 SEOUL BY CHANGVISON/CHANGDICTATOR; I TAKE ABSOLUTELY 0 CREDIT FOR THE PLOT IDEA.

Monotone - Part 1/?

It’s all the same, Kibum thinks.

All the same pictures; soulless, bloodied bodies plastered on small 135 film, for confirmation or reassurance, Kibum stopped differentiating between the two.

Same contract, sending him to press his blade deep into the esophagus of a middle aged man in a back alley somewhere in New York, or driving a bullet through the skull of some businesswoman in her apartment in Beijing.  

Same coldness; present in the middle of summer on the highways of Arizona, or early autumn in the front seat of a car driving down Seoul’s busiest streets. Coldness; figuratively seeping into his skin and freezing his bones and muscles; becoming something like numbness; a sort of stiffness in his joints that he chooses to simply ignore; a bittersweet reminder that his heart still beats and keeps him alive.

Thinking is something that Kibum avoids. The lack of thought presses him forward, lets him wallow guiltlessly in late night shots of whiskey, or far too early cups of coffee. So he doesn’t think as he drives the sleek white finish of his McLaren MP4-12C straight into the side of the concrete dividers of the highway, the screeching of metal bending in on itself assaulting the peaceful stillness of morning. Hardly budging as he presses the brake to the floor, the car lurching to a dead halt on the side of the road. Doesn’t lean back, but simply closes his eyes as the windshield shatters and flames begin to engulf the back of the car and follow trails of petroleum spilling out of the broken internal portions. Abandoning his camera in his seat, the 3am moonlight creates a chilling contrast of blue against orange and red, the blaze licking the asphalt yet cascading into the air, seemingly trying to reach something that’s out of their grasp.

Kibum leaves it like that, the time bomb ticking along with the crackling of the fire in the front seat. He doesn’t flinch when debris are thrown past him, so near that his overcoat pulls just a hair out of place. He doesn’t avoid because he’s not afraid of the pain of impact. Ghosts can’t feel pain.

Black gloved fingers toy with the film in his pocket, weighing him down like an extra pull of gravity on a falling object. Perhaps, Kibum thinks, that’s all he truly is; a falling object, bound by the gravity of his lack of existence to land in the same spot, which is inevitably a corpse, somewhere floating down a river in a foreign country, or strewn across the container of someone’s 135, only to be exchanged for capitol to fill their own void of actuality.

He barely registers that there’s another person until he’s standing within 6 feet of the man. Kibum stares him down, despite his tall stature compared to himself. The man had curly, auburn hair that was a bit too long, brushing his eyelashes that bordered his dark brown eyes; broad shoulders that would have made most normal people intimidated. Kibum doesn’t get intimidated. But he didn’t miss the small rush of feeling as the man took another step, drawing closer.

“Now what would you do that for?” The man asks, and his deep voice leaves Kibum scrambling for a clue.

Because Kibum doesn’t understand how it could affect him in the most miniscule of ways, let alone how it did. Words don’t affect Kibum, people don’t affect Kibum. So what was so special about this man?

For whatever reason, Kibum decides to answer with a simple “Because it had no real value, it was simply out of necessity.”

The man appears to be in shock, and seemingly observes Kibum for long, agonizing moments before calmly holding out his hand, a smile on his face.

“I’m Park Chanyeol.” Kibum just stares at the extended hand; not comprehending why this ‘Chanyeol’ was communicating with him, when clearly he’d just observed Kibum purposely wrecking his two-hundred thousand dollar car at three in the morning, with no definitive explanation. Realizing he’s going to get no action from Kibum, Chanyeol lowers his hand, but that same idiotic smile stays on his face. Kibum wonders if he has any idea of whom he’s speaking with, then he remembers that no, of course he doesn’t. Technically, Kibum doesn’t exist. Someone can’t meet someone who’s dead.

Kibum leaves Chanyeol there, on the side of the road in front of a pile of blazing metal, and Chanyeol just smiles and watches him leave, hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep warm, while Kibum shoves his hands in his to keep them cold.

[ourlittletales]

Can I ask where did you get the pictures in your "Brave" fic. Any links?

I put together the edit but all the pieces are from other places~

I got all the Key ones from his vacation book scans from fuckyeahdivakey here

All the Chanyeol ones are his airport pictures from 121126 on his (Korean) birthday, i got them from DailyEXO here

none of these are mine, and the Chanyeol ones are fantaken, so if someone wants me to take them down I will (but I’d really rather not; I think they’re really nice D; )

[ourlittletales]

Brave - Part 1/?

“One, two, three… hold it Kibum!”

Chanyeol quietly watched the model being photographed, head lowered to let his brown hair cover his face a bit, using the high collar of his thick coat hide the rest. He pushed his glasses up so they didn’t interfere with his line of sight, and just watched. He gripped his pen and notebook close to his chest like his life depended on it, face flushed and nervousness seeping through his body. His camera bag hung against his backpack, and he debated a few times on just trying to take pictures on his own. But, knowing he could get scolded, he didn’t make a move to. So Chanyeol just sat and pondered what to do.

Kibum was finally here again, and Chanyeol as absolutely ecstatic. He’d seen the Korean model on the streets of London a few times now, and he admired him so greatly. Today he was in a sleeveless black shirt, with a heavy looking coat draped around his shoulders, accented with bright pink skinny jeans, and a few accessories. His bangs were dyed a pink, and it was Chanyeol’s favorite look of his to date. His poster board in his room was littered with small pictures of Kibum’s photo-shoot pictures. Kibum was absolutely flawless in Chanyeol’s eyes; a god, almost. And, being an amateur photographer, Chanyeol wanted desperately for Kibum to model for him. But he still hadn’t done so.

The only problem was Chanyeol. He couldn’t even work up the courage to meet Kibum’s eyes, let alone ask him to model for him. He truly hated himself for it, because it was all he really wanted, and the only thing standing in the way of it was himself.

His heart lurched as the photographer dismissed the model for a lunch break, and he watched Kibum begin to walk away down the street. Chanyeol gulped and began quietly following him, attempting to figure out what to say. What if he just ignored him? What if he thought he was weird and shot him down? Many scenarios tumbled through Chanyeol’s mind, and his hands began shaking against his notebook.

Kibum turned into a small bakery, and began ordering a few things. When the employees began cutting Kibum a slice of cake, Chanyeol calmed himself enough to step into the store and walk over to stand in line right behind Kibum. He swore he had never been so nervous in his entire life, palms sweating and trembling like a leaf. He debated on taking off his coat twice, but he was too terrified that he didn’t smell well, along with how much of a hassle it would be to take all his stuff off then put his coat back on. Chanyeol came to the conclusion that he’d probably end up making a fool out of himself, and trashed the idea.

Through his rambling thoughts, he realized that Kibum had his order, and looked about ready to leave. Just as Kibum had grabbed his to-go box and turned to leave, Chanyeol finally stepped forward a bit and called to him.

“A-Ah, please don’t leave yet!” Kibum turned slowly when hearing the words and stared at Chanyeol’s shaking form, quickly becoming puzzled.

“Who are you?” Kibum asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you a journalist? Because I’m not interested in your interview...” Chanyeol’s heart leapt and shook his head rapidly, bowing a bit. He realized with his notebook and pen, he looked exactly like a journalist.

“N-No, I’m not a journalist… My name is P-Park Chanyeol, I’m a photographer…” Chanyeol spoke, voice shaking terribly. He gulped and looked around nervously, shuffling his feet as Kibum kept staring at him, confused as Chanyeol continued, “Sorry, I have to…” he bit his tongue, and gritted his teeth. There was no way he was going to back out after getting this far, “no; please model for me!”

Kibum stared for a bit longer, and the silence between them made Chanyeol feel like he couldn’t breathe. But then Kibum smiled brightly, taking Chanyeol’s breath away in a much more blissful way before answering,

“I’d love to!”

Kibum smiles wider as Chanyeol’s heart beats so loud against his chest he could swear the entire bakery can hear it. Kibum giggled a bit and stepped a bit closer, “Please don’t be nervous, all you had to do was ask.”

Chanyeol felt like he was flying, a wide, bright smile growing on his face as he bowed a few times to him.

“Thank you Kibum, thank you so much… I really admire you and I’m so excited to have this opportunity!” he said, face growing red from shyness and excitement.

Kibum’s own cheeks tinted pink at the compliment, and he began nervously messing with the container in his hands, “Admire me? Really? I’m not that good, compared to most…”

“No, no, you’re really perfect to me!” Chanyeol brought a hand to his mouth, dropping his pen in the process, realizing what he’d just said. Kibum’s face quickly became redder, looking down shyly and bending over to grab the pen, handing it back to Chanyeol shyly.

“T-Thank you, really, you’re too kind…” Kibum said, looking down bashfully.  Chanyeol took the pen from him and bowed gratefully, tugging the top of the zipper on his coat down so Kibum can see his face easier.

And Kibum caught himself staring when Chanyeol did so, thinking that he definitely made the right choice accepting this offer. They just stared at each other for a long while, before Kibum announced he had to get back to work, and offered for Chanyeol to follow; which he of course did in an instant.

Though neither of them realized it at that moment, they had put something beautiful into motion that would lead them to a future that they never would have expected.

[ourlittletales]

Your voice

Was the soundtrack of my summer

Do you know you're unlike any other?

You'll always be my thunder

I said

Your eyes

Are the brightest of all the colors

I don't wanna ever love another

You'll always be my thunder

So bring on the rain

Oh baby bring on the pain

And bring on the thunder

[ourlittletales]

Miracles - Part 1/?

“Kibum?” Chanyeol pouted, walking down the main hallway, glancing into the living room twice, “Kibummie are you on the porch again?” he called, carrying two glasses of freshly made iced tea, and waiting for his lovers reply.

“I’m here, Channie.” Kibum called softly, and a gentle smile grew on Chanyeol’s face as he looked out the window, watching Kibum swinging slowly in the new swing. One hand was holding Hamlet, and the other was resting gently on the large bump on his stomach, thumb drawing little circles on his purple shirt.

Chanyeol’s heart fluttered when watching him, feeling like his heart was going to burst. Kibum was 7 months pregnant with his babies; and Chanyeol was probably the happiest person in the entire city of New York.  He just wanted to shout to the world the love for his family, for his lover and his two unborn children. Unfortunately that was much easier said than done. However much Chanyeol wished to do so, they really couldn’t easily explain their relationship. The fact that they were a homosexual couple was difficult enough for society to handle, but how Kibum was pregnant with Chanyeol’s babies was almost an impossible topic to explain. Kibum was a special case, and his babies were miracles. And even though carrying the babies was potentially life-threatening for Kibum, they both agreed that they wouldn’t be able to live with themselves if they were to abort them. Chanyeol supported Kibum 150 percent, tending to his every request and helping him up and down stairs, regardless of what he was doing.

 One time Chanyeol almost lit the kitchen on fire because Kibum had stubbed his toe on the bottom stair; and he had run so quickly to Kibum’s side that a hand towel had fallen onto the stove, catching fire. Chanyeol managed to put out the flame very quickly, but acquired a nice bump on the side of his head from Kibum hitting him for being so careless. Kibum had scolded him as he finished dinner about how, even if he was in a little bit of pain, he wasn’t going to kill over on the entrance rug or something. Chanyeol had agreed and smiled, but in the back of his mind he was always afraid. He was so afraid of Kibum going into labor, and not being able to get him to the hospital in time; or Kibum falling and hurting both him and/or the babies. Even though Kibum insisted he was fine and was going to be fine, Chanyeol still worried. Kibum and the babies were his world, and he would do anything to keep them safe and healthy. But he didn’t have a lot of control presently, and that scared Chanyeol like nothing else.

Chanyeol smiled, shaking off his thoughts as he sat quietly beside Kibum on the swing, placing his own glass on the side table and holding the other out to Kibum.

“Here baby, do you want some? I made it fresh.”

Kibum looked up and smiles brightly, blonde hair tickling his eyebrows in the light breeze, making his chocolate brown eyes look like they were glowing. Chanyeol gets enchanted every day when he takes the time to just stare at Kibum.

“Thank you Channie, I’d love some.” He folded the corner of the page and closed the book, laying it aside and taking the tea gratefully, pressing their bodies close and letting his head rest on Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“Kibummie?” Chanyeol whispered gently, rubbing his upper arm slowly.

“Yes Channie?” Kibum whispered back, snuggling closer into his warm embrace.

“I’ll always protect you… and our babies, I’ll never leave your side, and be the best father I can.” He let his fingers make their way slowly through Kibum’s hair, “I promise.”

Kibum’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and he nodded softly, holding onto Chanyeol’s hand tightly.

“I love you Channie.”

“I love you more, Kibummie.”