A/N: I loved this piece I wrote for my tumblr so much, I just HAD to post it on my aff as well. Hope you all enjoy! xoxo

 

“Ah, that’s my good girl!”

You chewed happily on the piece of meat that Baekhyun had fed you, smiling. It was dinner time—one of your most favorite times to spend with the love of your life. The day was over. It was time to rest.

Propping your elbows onto the dining table, you swallowed, then frowned. Baekhyun sat across from you, his white t-shirt hanging off of his frame.

“Is something bothering you, baby?” he asked. He set his chopsticks down, looked up at you. Cocked his head to the side, those brown eyes so deep and caring, the way that they always were.

You your lips, tasting the leftover spice from the beef. “Daddy, do you not like the food I made for you? Is it bad?”

“What, no! Of course not, baby,” he immediately soothed, shocked that you would ever ask him that. Reaching across the table, he smoothed a flyaway from your hair. “Daddy would never do such a thing.”

 

---

 

“Then why did you, uh—” you faltered. You weren’t quite sure how to phrase your question, wondering if you would possibly offend him. You never wanted Baekhyun to feel as if you didn’t enjoy his acts of affection—after all, his cute ticks for you never failed to make you fluttered inside.

“Why did you give me your food?”

“Ah,” Baekhyun said knowingly, nodding his head. He patted the seat beside him, sliding your plate over so that you could sidle up next to him. “Come here, angel.”

You practically ran over to his side, unable to help yourself. It was a rare occasion for him and you to eat dinner together consistently, and this was the fifth time this week; a streak that had yet to be beaten. Therefore, you were more than elated that he wished for you to sit with him.

He slipped a hand around your waist, letting you lean against his chest. His voice was tender, explaining, in a soft, gentle way, as if wrapping you up in warm, fluffy blankets.

“First of all,” he began, your head, “your food is amazing. You know this. I always love to eat what you make for me, baby. I’m not even sure how I’m going to live without it for the next three months.”

“What?” you exclaimed. Your eyes bugged. “Are you leaving me? Daddy, are you going away?”

“No no no,” he said quickly. He sensed your sudden worry, your sudden concern. “It’s nothing like that. You know how our concert is coming up in a few months, right?”

You nodded, unable to take your eyes off of him.

He was always so beautiful, so handsome, no matter when or where. His lips sweetly curled, his eyes never leaving yours. His nose upturned just at the tip, that cute little mole by the side of his mouth.

It had been years, and you were still trying to memorize every perfect angle of his.

“The thing is,” he said tentatively, “in order to prepare, Daddy is going to be on a diet starting this week.”

“…for three months?”

To say you were incredulous would be an understatement.

Baekhyun rubbed your arm soothingly, up and down, comforting you with his touch. “Yes, baby. Three months with no carbs.”

Your jaw dropped. “But then you won’t be able to eat any of the food I make for you!”

“That’s not true,” he teased, using a finger to nip at your nose. “You can make me chicken salad.”

“…with no dressing, no nothing,” you muttered under your breath, huffy.

You didn’t mean to be so impudent, but how could you not be? You were upset—more than upset. Baekhyun was already skinny enough, and for him to go for so long without eating any actually substantial food… The thought made you shudder.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

“Well baby, I’m so glad you asked,” he said with a flourish of his eyebrows. You couldn’t help but giggle lightly at his ridiculousness—at least that hadn’t gone away yet.  

He tugged you in even closer, until you were smack dab right next to him. Watching him pull up the hem of his shirt, you felt your face begin to grow hot.

“This is why, baby.”

Baekhyun patted his stomach, the skin pale, abdominals slightly defined. They weren’t anything crazy, not like Junmyeon’s (which he had shamelessly showed off to you, much to Baekhyun’s dismay). Just a couple of faint lines, and then the fuzz of his happy trail, leading down to the waistband of his jeans.

“What about it?” you piped.

“After my diet is over,” Baekhyun said matter-of-factly, “you’ll have much more of my stomach to enjoy looking at, baby.”

You coughed at his statement, realizing what he was implying.

“Abs?! You’re doing this to have Suho abs?!”

“Hey, what does this have anything to do with Junmyeon?” Baekhyun flipped his shirt back down again, but your eyes still lingered to where the pale expanse of skin was. “But yes, baby. I’m working on it.”

You curled your fingers into his, squeezing tightly. “But that means you’ll be doing additional exercise, plus the work you already do, and your diet…”

All of the pieces were beginning to assemble together, and though the thought of Baekhyun’s abs dangled in front of you like a delicious treat, you couldn’t help but—

“What if you die?” you practically shrieked. “That can’t be healthy, Daddy! No, no way! You’re already skinny enough, you shouldn’t be—”

You were muffled by the sudden feeling of his lips on yours.

He kissed you gently, settling down your incessant worrying with his soft lips. His hand cradled the back of your head, other arm pressing you up against him.

“Daddy is going to be fine,” he comforted you, cooing in that way he had. “All Daddy needs you to do is to be there for him, alright?”

He smiled, cheeks pulling up and filling out.

You pouted, cupping his face. You were going to miss the slight roundness of his chin, the fullness of his leftover baby fat.

“Okay,” you relented.

“Thank you, baby.” He was serious this time, no jokes. No laughter. “You’re Daddy’s perfect angel, you know?”

And before you could answer, he pulled you in to kiss you yet again.

 

---

 

Month 1

You were just about finished when you heard him come through the door.

“Baby!” he called. “I smell something good!”

You just giggled, flipping the slices of potato one last time .

Baekhyun had been doing well. He was adamant in his diet, determined in a fashion very typical of his strong personality. Though there were times that you still feared for him, not wanting him to be unhealthy, you knew that there was no way around it—Baekhyun was Baekhyun. Hard work was not a stranger to him.

“Are you trying to make me fat again?” he shouted at you playfully, finally coming round into the kitchen. He saw you at the stove, a smile instantly lighting up his face.

You felt him wrap his arms around you, settle the bottom of his chin onto your shoulder. “What are you making, baby?”

“My mom’s pan fried potatoes,” you answered. You checked the the second side, making sure that the slices had that perfect crisp edge, just the way that you liked. “I felt extra hungry, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He sneakily pecked your cheek. “Eat whatever you’d like.”

Baekhyun set you free so that you could quickly plate the potatoes. As he chose to lean against the sink and watch you instead, you forced yourself to concentrate under his unwavering stare.

“Your salad’s in the fridge,” you told him.

“That’s right,” he said. You noticed a slight lag in the way he got up, as if not wanting to leave his post quite just yet. He was getting tired of eating the same thing day in and day out, wasn’t he?

Though he said that he was working with a special trainer, you couldn’t help but doubt that he was actually getting the nutrients that he needed.

Still, Baekhyun kept his face up, doing his best to pull out a smile at the same meal he pulled out of the refrigerator. He shut the door and took his place at the table, you following suit with your bowl of rice. Now that Baekhyun wasn’t eating your usual meals, the dishes upon the table had lessened—just the potatoes and a traditional egg omelette with pickled radish.

“Did you have a nice day, Daddy?” you asked.

He swallowed down another leaf of lettuce, nodded. “Of course, baby. We’re still perfecting our dances for the comeback, the usual.”

He sighed. Set down his fork. Replacing the utensil with your hand, he smoothed over your knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “How are you, angel? Was work alright?”

“Work was fine,” you answered easily. “Though, I keep wondering…”

“Wondering about what?” Baekhyun asked.

You felt your eyes duck at what you were about to say, your cheeks no doubt turning as red as the color Chanyeol was thinking about dyeing his hair.

“I’ve been wondering about your, um. Progress.” You bit down on your bottom lip, praying that he would understand what you were saying. If you had to actually clear it up for him, you would be mortified.

“Progress?” Baekhyun furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, baby?”

“I want to see your abs!” you screamed in your head, but couldn’t bring yourself to say the words themselves.

Then you heard him laughing.

Your eyes shot up, that perfect smile paired with his perfect face.

“I know what you mean, baby,” he said, teasing. “You just can’t wait like the rest of the fans, can you? You’ve got to see Daddy’s abs now.”

“I just want to see your progress,” you repeated firmly. You were not going to become shy. Millions of girls would kill to be in your spot right now.

“Alright, alright,” Baekhyun relented. “But if you want to see them, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

He placed your hand at the hem of his shirt. Black, today.

You gripped it so hard you thought you were going to pierce through the fabric, you were so shy. You weren’t usually like this—at work they called you “loud”, called you the “moodmaker”, never missing a beat.

But when you were with Baekhyun, you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into a pile of mush.

“Daddy,” you whined.

“You wanted to see them!” he continued, shameless. He even so much as leaned back in his chair, giving you that smoldering look that made the girls go crazy. “Go ahead, baby.”

And so, before you could think twice, you forced yourself to flip the bottom of his shirt upwards.

Your hand shot to your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you breathed.

They weren’t Suho abs yet, but they were definitely getting there. Already much more defined than they used to be, you couldn’t believe that these abdominals belonged to your boyfriend—your Byun Baekhyun. You were so used to his beagle, puppy-like ways, soft nutella tummy…

“Do you like them?” Baekhyun grinned widely, that rectangle smile popping out. He ran a hand over his stomach, feeling the already-forming ridges. “I know it’s not what you’re use—”

“I love you,” you sighed.

“Wow,” Baekhyun scoffed, rolling his eyes, “you only love me for my body?”

“What?! No, of course not, Daddy!”

He just laughed his bright laugh, pushing his shirt back down and pulling you into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, breathing in your scent. “I know you’re worried, baby.”

“I am,” you said, nodding your head. “I’m not sure I trust that ‘specialist’ of yours.”

“Daddy is perfectly fine. You don’t need to be so concerned for me—I know how to look out for myself.”

“Besides,” he said. He turned you around slightly, forcing you to look down at him. “I love you, angel. As long as you’re alive, I’m not going to die any time soon. Okay?”

You leaned forward, nuzzling your nose with his.

“Okay, Daddy.”

 

---

 

Month 2

He was becoming so, so thin.

Weight had dropped drastically from his already-small frame. His wrists were beginning to look so bony; you could nearly wrap your thumb and forefinger around it completely. His chin was so sharp, it startled you sometimes when he put his head upon your shoulder, or leaned onto your chest ever so slightly. His cheeks had lost all of their old baby fat, so much so that they nearly looked sunken, despite you knowing that they were not.

He had asked you to make his favorites—spicy and rich and full of flavor, so vibrant, contrasting so greatly from the bland salad and boiled chicken that sat on the dinner table. Reds and greens and yellows decorated the various foods that you had prepared for him, waiting.

He was exhausted, throwing himself into his chair. Shirt sticking to his body with sweat, hair all over the place.

“Here, Daddy,” you said, pulling up your chair towards his. It had almost become a sad routine. It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to feed himself, nor was it that he wasn’t able to do things by himself, because he was.

Rather, you were so saddened by the sight of Baekhyun, at the brink of mental gruel and exhaustion, you refused to let him.

You picked out some bell pepper, a little bit of onion, neatly picking them up with your chopsticks. With a napkin underneath to catch anything that might fall, you brought the food over to Baekhyun.

He opened his mouth neatly, letting you feed him in silence.

While he relished in the flavorful tastes that he had for so long been unable to savor, you quickly brought up a small ceramic bowl, the one that you always used for these purposes. You held it under his mouth, waited for him to finish—

Waited for him to spit the food out into the bowl.

He sat back in his chair with a thud, a loud sigh escaping his lips. His eyes traveled everywhere, anywhere. Anywhere, except for on you.

Lips pursed, you took your napkin and wiped his mouth carefully, quietly, cleaning any excess spit or sauce off of his chin.

You were growing anxious just sitting there. He was already well into month number two, and his mind hat hit a rut. Were his abdominals coming along fine? Yes, of course—by all means. But was his mental state healthy as well?

You couldn’t be too sure about that.

You had to do something, your fingers beginning to get the tiniest bit antsy. You couldn’t just sit here, watching your beloved boyfriend waste away, could you?

If he could just have a little bit of actual food…

Your eyes wandered down to your bowl of rice.

Praying that he wouldn’t notice, you swapped your chopsticks out for a spoon. He was still mindlessly looking at the kitchen clock as you scooped out a small section of rice, placing a piece of boiled chicken on top.

It wasn’t the most artful disguise, but it would have to do.

You were well aware that Baekhyun was more than not allowed to eat such things—no rice, no grains. But seeing him a shell of himself, you couldn’t not help. You had to, in some way or other.

He was your responsibility, just as much as you were his.

“Ah,” you said, letting Baekhyun open his mouth wide, swallowing down the chicken and rice.

You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping that he wouldn’t notice, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to taste the—

“Ya!”

You could only watch in sudden shock and horror as Baekhyun spit out the food angrily, wiping away his spit with the palm of his hand. He stood up, chair legs screeching against the tile, his face contorting into the hideous atrocity of somebody that you had never, in all of you years being with him, had ever seen—

“Are you trying to this up? Huh?”

His voice was sharper than the marble cut of his chin.

“Rice?” he seethed, teeth bared and lips thin. “You know I’m not supposed to be eating—”

He abruptly stopped at the sight of a tear tracing down your cheek.

You weren’t quite sure that you recognized who was in front of you. Years and years of being with Baekhyun meant knowing him like the back of your hand, meant knowing his ticks and his peeves, the way a student would be able to recite a poem engraved into their mind. But this, this—you didn’t recognize.

He was hungry and he was starving and sick and irritable and you were done.

“Baekhyun.”

Anger morphed into anguish on his face.

You didn’t call him by his first name much, didn’t call him by his name at all, most of the time. Early in your relationship, you had noticed how much he wished to be called by a different endearment, a name—not “Baekhyun”, nor “Oppa”, but “Daddy”; “Appa”.

You remembered what he had said when you asked him “Why?”

“Because I care about you the way a father cares about their daughter. Because you’re the thing I cherish the most, want to take care of the most—my very own angel.”    

But when you did happen to call Baekhyun by his first name, you knew—and he knew—it was when he had done something horribly wrong.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you said hollowly.

“You can clean up your mess by yourself.”

 

---

 

It wasn’t until much later, when you were pretending to sleep in the middle of the night, that he slipped into bed with you.

Smooth arms around you.

Lips in your hair.

Apologies, whispered in the softest of soft voices.

He cradled you, cuddled you. Knew that you were upset and that you probably didn’t want to see his face for a while, yet couldn’t stop himself from swaddling you up in the way that you absolutely, ten out of ten, deserved.

You put up with everything, patient and kind—the mood swings, the irritability, sometimes even eating the same exact meal as him just so that he wouldn’t feel bad.  

“I’m sorry.”

A finger, the glow of your cheek under the white moonlight.

Because he was supposed to protect you. Because he was supposed to take care of you. Because for every living minute of the day, he was supposed to make you happy, and what had he done?

Gone right ahead and did the exact opposite.

“Daddy loves his angel,” he cooed, his own tears falling now.He pulled the covers up over you, making sure that you were just right—not too cold, not too warm. He gathered your hair to the side, always with his nimble fingers and gentle touch—he knew how much you hated hair in your face when you slept.

He pulled you against his chest, spooning you—just the way that you loved.

A contented sigh left your lips.

A declaration of love left his.

“Daddy loves you.”  

 

---

 

Month 3

“Oh my god, is he alright?”

You didn’t bother to keep the heavy worry out of your voice as you ran up to Chanyeol, breath coming out in hard pants. “Is he okay? How is he doing now? Is he drinking water, is he eating—”

“He’s fine,” Chanyeol said, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. He was doing his best to calm you down, make sure that you didn’t suddenly begin to hyperventilate. “He’s resting right now.”

“Here?” You nodded towards the door behind Chanyeol, still trying to catch your breath, fill your lungs up with much needed oxygen.

“Yeah.” Chanyeol pursed his lips, retracted his hands back into the pocket of his hoodie. “He’s sleeping. You can go in, if you’d like.”

“I would,” you said. Nodded your head—once, twice, until you were bobbing up and down not to show that you wanted to go into the room, but until you could barely contain your anxiousness, about to burst any minute.

You gulped, swallowed the thick bile building up in your throat.

“I would like that very much.”

Your voice cracked, and you realized how embarrassing it was for you to be on the verge of breakdown in front of one of the members. They probably thought that you were crazy, or that you were some sort of psychopath that was obsessed with Baekhyun—

“Hey,” Chanyeol said. He leaned down slightly, to look you directly in the eye. “He’s going to be alright. You don’t need to worry. Don’t cry.”

You nodded yet another time, swiping at your eyes; tears that had managed to spring up so rapidly.

“I’ll let you go on in. You’ll be at the concert tonight, right?”

“Yes, definitely,” you responded easily. A laugh escaped your mouth, unstoppable—you were laughing at yourself.

How ridiculous, you thought, even though there was nothing funny about what had happened earlier.

“I know you love him a lot,” Chanyeol said. He was beginning to make his way down the amphitheatre hallway, hands still in his pocket, cap on his head. “I can see it in your eyes. I’ll catch you later, girl.”

You watched him walk away, make a turn, and disappear.

Now that Chanyeol was gone, you could fully focus on the problem at hand. You saw the door just a few steps away, white, with a small, square window near the top.

He was in there.

Taking careful steps, you quietly turned the doorknob, stepped into the room.

Baekhyun was laying on the bed, a white sheet laid over his body. Fast asleep, even breaths. Hair falling into his eyes. He was still wearing part of his rehearsal costume—black dress shirt, leather pants. But his feet were bare, peeking out at the bottom of the blanket.

You pulled up a chair, heart souring.

He was always trying so hard, wasn’t he?

You thought back to earlier, when you had received the hasty phone call from Chanyeol at work—

“Could you come down to the Olympic Stadium? Baekhyun just fainted in the middle of rehearsal.”

They had said that he was dehydrated, in no way drinking enough water to sustain the vigorous exercise that he submitted himself to. Add in the additional sweating from all of the dancing, as well as the diet that he just was unable to give up on, and he was practically killing himself from the inside out.

You felt like crying all over again, seeing him in such a state—as if he were being prepared for some sort of open casket funeral. And for what? For a nice physique? For abs?

“It’s for the fans, baby. I just want to show them the best Byun Baekhyun, that’s all.”

You sniffed. Of course you would end up with someone so hardworking that they nearly killed themselves over it.

Deep in your thoughts, you hadn’t notice that Baekhyun had opened his eyes. He rolled his head over to look at you.

A weak, fragile hand reached out for you.

“Daddy,” you breathed, immediately latching onto his fingers, trying to send your body warmth over to him.

“Hey, angel.”

He smiled weakly, half awake, half asleep. His eyes had that glassy look to them, welling up slightly.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you said, your voice wilting at the end. You were rambling, tongue flying faster than you were able to handle.

“I didn’t take good care of you—that’s why you’re like this, aren’t you? I’m sorry. It’s my fault, okay Daddy? It’s my fault—please don’t be mad. Alright, Daddy?”

You were rambling, tongue flying faster than you were able to handle.

“Hey,” Baekhyun said gently. His eyes never left you for a second. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. Don’t beat yourself up over something that you didn’t do. Daddy wants to see his angel happy, okay? Can you do that for Daddy?”

You nodded, unable to stop the tears from running down your cheeks.

“It’s Daddy’s fault. Daddy didn’t take care of himself well enough—but that’s to be expected.”

He brought your hand up, closer to him. His own eyes began to gloss over, seeing your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles affectionately. Voice small, the taddest bit heartbroken at seeing you so upset.

“Nobody takes care of me better than my angel.”

 

---

 

“Ah, that’s my good boy!”

Baekhyun laughed loudly, grease smeared all over his face and your fingers. A piece of pepperoni dangled in his mouth as you pulled the pizza away from his mouth, trying to get the oh-so-stringy cheesy to finally break.

The two of you were on the couch together, sweatshirts and socks and legs tucked up criss cross applesauce style. An array of DVDs were splattered across the coffee table, littered across the various boxes of pizza and pasta and fries and all sorts of disgustingly satisfying junk food.

You couldn’t stop giggling as he tried to lean in for a kiss, bobbling his head side-to-side. “Daddy, no! You need to eat first!”

“So true,” he said, with a flick of his head. He chewed the meat and cheese happily, eyes practically glowing at the taste of yes, finally—something other than salad and boiled chicken. “This is so good.”

You handed him a glass of Sprite, complete with the bubbles still flying and a straw inside.

“Don’t rush yourself,” you admonished. “That’s just as bad.”

He nodded, sipping on the carbonated drink, thumb and forefinger holding the straw in place. “Alright, baby, I got it.”

He smiled, offered the straw to you.

You couldn’t say no, heart pounding at his sweet gesture and Oh my gosh! Indirect kiss!

The soda was so refreshing and elating, you were about to fizz all the way up to the ceiling yourself. Finally, the rounds of concerts were over and you and the love of your life could indulge—indulge in the little bits of a normal life. Meaning: pizza and movies.

Baekhyun was just reaching over to pick up The Fault in Our Stars, commenting, “I think this is the one Channie likes,” when you let out a sigh, slumping onto the couch.

His hand faltered. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You wiped the grease on your hands off on a napkin, sitting up and shuffling closer to him. “It’s just,” you said, shaking your head sadly.

“Just what?”

You pouted, flipping up Baekhyun’s shirt.

“Hey—”

“I’m going to miss these guys.”

Running a hand down his luxurious abdominals, you sighed forlornly. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to say that the three grueling months of his diet were worth his rippled stomach, they really were impressive.

“Oh, yeah?” Baekhyun teased, flexing on purpose.

You groaned aloud. “You are too naughty for your own good, Daddy.”

“Me?” he gasped, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. “You’re the who’s doing all the groping. And here I thought you were Daddy’s little angel.”

“I am,” you said haughtily, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Which is why I say that we enjoy these for a bit longer, before we have to say goodbye.”

Baekhyun laughed, throwing his head back in happiness. He loved seeing you so casual, so happy. Gone were the small exasperated sighs, the slight wrinkles to your forehead.

He hefted you up, brushing your baby hairs away with his thumbs. “Is that so, angel?”

“It would be a waste not to.” You batted your lashes up at him, a pleasant, innocent smile on your face despite the dirtiness of what you were suggesting. “After all, you worked so hard, and for so long, too.”

Baekhyun just chuckled, that tinge of alter-ego playing in. His face changed—smile to smirk, glitter innocence to velvet seduction. He brought you close, lips right next to your ear, hot breath so close—

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

 

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading. xoxo