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[peterspizzashirt]

how flowers bloom and wither

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader , platonic! boo seungkwan x reader

apocalypse!au , exes to lovers , angst , hurt / minimal comfort

warnings : language , death , apocalyptic themes , depictions of wounds and blood , suicidal ideation , this is not a happy ending or story

word count : 6.3 k

requested ? no

a/n : heavily inspired by this juyeon fic that made my cry in my car (p.s. there is a jeonghan ver as well).

Your voice is the first to call his name in months. It's been so long the cadence of it sounds foreign to his ears. Almost like another language entirely. A cry from the distance, barely audible in a way he easily dismisses as a hallucination. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

He knows other survivors exist, he'd seen them in nearly every town he scavenged. Though in no reality had he ever assumed any of them knew his name. The world had not been kind enough to spare anyone who knew and loved Lee Chan. They'd all been swept away in the initial outbreak. And with no one tethering him to his own existence, he was no more than a living ghost amongst the ruins.

But then the voice calls again, this time closer. Behind him. Louder.

"Chan? Lee Chan!"

And even stranger, he knows this voice. Better than he knows the sound of his own name. Could pick it out of a crowd, blindfolded and all.

Though he still can't bring himself to believe it. Not even as he turns and your silhouette comes into view against the setting sun, your elongated shadow reaching out for him. Tattered shoes well beyond their usable years slap against the pavement as you sprint.

"Oh my God, Chan!"

It has to be a mirage. You'll pass straight through him like an apparition and the universe will laugh at him for believing another one of its cruel jokes.

Yet still, his arms open, and seconds later your full weight crashes into him. Like a tide breaking the shore, stirring up memories like loose sand in its wake.

It's the first time in months he's been held. Felt the warm touch of anything living, much less the safety of something familiar. Tears fill his eyes instantly as Chan clings to the one thing from his past he could never seem to bury. To what he can only assume is a pity gift from the universe making up for all the times it fucked him over. To you.

Your chest heaves against his as you ask, "Is it you? Is this real?"

Chan himself doesn't know the answer to that.

"I can't believe I found you," you breathe out once the air surrounding you two settles. You haven't let go yet and Chan doesn't want you to. Worried that when you finally do, he'll wake up back in the crumbling shed he'd used for shelter the night before. With his back against a cold, moldy mattress instead of being held by the warmth of a thousand suns. Alone again.

"Please say something," you nervously laugh. Despite the chill in the air, Chan's cheeks are burning up. He's at a loss, far too overwhelmed to produce anything remotely coherent. Though as you peel away to examine him, concern knitting your brows, one word does come to mind.

Wow.

You're still as radiant as he remembered. A diamond amongst the ruins of the world. It looks, for the most part, the universe has been kind to you. Good, he thinks.

"You're not..." Your expression falls. "You're not sick, are you?"

It's the fear in your eyes that finally prompts Chan to push down the lump in his throat. "No!" He rasps, then clears his throat. "No, I'm not sick. Promise."

"Are you hungry?"

Chan looks back at the reason he'd left his shelter in the first place, the rundown mini-mart about a hundred feet away. The stabbing pain in his stomach brings him back down to reality.

"There's nothing worthwhile in there, we already checked."

We?

Your arm extends to point past the mini-mart. Towards a small abandoned town that pokes out just beyond the darkening horizon. "Our shelter is just about a mile that way. Would you–"

He agrees before you've even finished your sentence.

Chan cannot fathom the hope you hold in your heart in a world like this. Not until he meets Seungkwan. The vibrant boy you've been traveling with thus far.

"You can't go around picking up strays."

"He's not a stray, Kwan, he's an old friend. Besides, you were a stray at one point too." You disappear into another room before the boy can argue any further. Leaving him to glower at his new guest.

"If you start acting strange, I'll kill you." Seungkwan points at Chan, though he's not the least bit threatening. His shiny eyes and round face are far too friendly to ever be perceived as intimidating.

Yet Chan humors the boy anyway. "Virus-free, I promise." He raises his hands in surrender.

"And don't touch anything." He motions around the living room, which is surprisingly homey.

When you mentioned you had a shelter nearby, Chan was expecting something a little less... comfortable. Something like the random sheds or raided stores he'd crouch into for just a few hours of shut-eye, never any longer. Or perhaps even a poorly constructed tent made up of various scrap parts. But when you climbed the stairs to a tiny townhouse, one of the better-looking ones amongst the multiple shells of former homes in the neighborhood, Chan almost couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps this really was all just a dream.

The outside, for the most part, looked pretty decent. There had been some obvious repairs done; trash cleaned from the yard, wooden boards haphazardly nailed over broken windows, a tattered blue tarp covering a large section of the roof, and Chan could just barely make out remnants of graffiti that couldn't be scrubbed away. But the blue paint was hardly peeling and the stone steps had only a few cracks.

When it came to the inside, one word came to mind. Charming. None of the furniture matches, meaning either the previous owner hadn't cared for aesthetics or you and Seungkwan had at some point scavenged the surrounding houses in search of the least fucked up looking decor. Even then, it was really just the bare essentials. A surprisingly comfortable couch, two rocking chairs that look as though the wood had been chewed by squirrels, a metal center table, and a couple bookshelves filled with various novels, picture frames of strangers, and knickknacks.

Down the short hallway to the left are two closed doors. Of which he assumes is a single bedroom and bath respectively. Behind him, where you had disappeared to, is a door he'd quickly caught a glimpse of the kitchen through.

Most notably, however, against the back wall of the living room is a stone fireplace. Ablaze with such life it fully illuminates the space, providing a much-needed warmth as the brisk night rolls in. Chan watches it dance over the mound of logs, completely entranced until that same lovely voice from before calls his name once more.

"All we really have left from our last supply run is tuna, I hope that's okay." In your hands is a bowl with a small portion of rice and half a can of tuna, along with a glass of water. It's no five-star meal, but Chan's mouth still waters at the sight. And better yet, it's warm. He can't remember the last time he had a meal that wasn't a can of cold mystery mush or a granola bar.

He half expects Seungkwan to gripe about him taking something as precious in this world as food. But the boy snorts and a teasing smile creeps its way onto his lips. "Poor kid looks like he'll start drooling any second, I think tuna is more than okay."

He's right, tuna and rice is more than okay. In fact, it's the best damn thing he's ever had in his life. Even as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, it only gets better. It isn't until every morsel of food has vanished from the bowl that Chan finally acknowledges his drink. Gulping the clear, luke-warm, liquid down in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," he breaths out.

"So what are your plans? Are you leaving in the morning?" Seungkwan promptly asks.

Oh.

A chasm opens in Chan's stomach. Right, he thinks, How could he be so naive? Sure, the two of you knew each other. But it's been what, three years? Three years of the two of you living your own lives, growing, becoming new people. Almost a full one of those years spent fighting to survive. You didn't even owe him a meal to begin with, much less a place to stay. And, not to mention, Seungkwan doesn't know him from a hole in the wall.

He isn't sure why he assumed you'd stick by his side. But he'd sure hoped you would.

You have an equally solemn look on your face. "Right, you probably have people you need to get back to. They'll be worried if you stay too long."

"No, actually, it's just me."

Please. Chan silently pleads. Please don't leave me alone again.

You lock eyes with Seungkwan. A silent conversation between the two of you has Chan's heart pounding against his ribs.

"Can I talk to you?" Seungkwan motions you to follow him down the hall and into the solo bedroom.

Minutes feel like hours; and no matter how hard he tries, Chan can't decipher anything from the muffled whispers. It's just a flurry of back and forth until it stops with Seungkwan letting out a long sigh.

When Chan sees your nervous, fidgeting, figure appear with Seungkwan in tow, he starts mentally preparing for a no.

"There's only one bedroom," Seungkwan states, arms crossed. "So we'll have to rearrange the sleeping arrangements—"

"I'll sleep anywhere," Chan immediately bargains. "I can take the couch—"

"Absolutely not." The older boy jabs a finger at him, his stare menacing. "That couch is the nicest thing we have, if anything it's mine."

That is perfectly fine with Chan. In fact, he'd take the termite-chewed wooden floor if that's what it would take. "Does this mean..?"

"Yes," the boy exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, but the action doesn't feel malicious. More like a brother teasing his younger siblings. "You're lucky, you had a very reliable source vouch for you."

It feels like Chan can breathe for the first time since this whole shit-storm began. The weight that lifts from his chest makes him feel as though he's floating. And as your soft gaze catches him, he sees it. That indomitable glimmer of hope humanity has to offer. A light at the end of a dark tunnel. Security wrapped up in a warm, fluffy blanket.

A second chance to be alive.

Seungkwan, as Chan quickly learns, had dreams of being a singer back before. There's rarely been a quiet moment in the week since you found Chan. If he's doing repairs, he's humming. If he's taking inventory, he's softly mumbling along to some tune. If he's sat by the fire at night, his voice carries beyond the walls and into the night.

It's strange. Chan hadn't realized just how quiet being alone was until now. But you enjoy Seungkwan's voice, and it eases you to sleep on Chan's shoulder. So he enjoys it as well.

"Are they asleep?" He asks, letting his song teeter off, voice just barely audible above the crackling logs.

Chan looks down at the slow rise and fall of your chest. He smiles fondly, dropping his shoulder a tad lower to not strain your neck. By now, he's finally gotten over the disbelief of his luck in finding you— well, more so you finding him. Deciding to no longer question the probability of it all and simply cherish the feeling you bring him.

"Yeah, I think so."

Similarly, Chan has also learned that as much of a tough guy act as Seungkwan puts on, he's got an incredibly soft heart. It's pertinent in his gaze and the discreet ways he dotes on anyone around him. Bickering with Chan to wear something warmer even though Spring is around the corner or fussing at you to take an extra portion of rations.

In an alternate life, Chan likes to think he and the boy could've been life-long friends.

"How long were you out there alone?" He muses, a curious look on his face.

"Since the first outbreak," Chan answers casually. Though, Seungkwan's eyes go wide in horror.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why? How long were you?"

"Three weeks, maybe." He shrugs. "Give or take a few days. We ran into each other pretty early on and we've stuck together ever since. Found this place about four months ago and tried to make it feel somewhat normal."

"Oh, that's nice." Chan forgets that for some, life kept moving. Even as society crumbled, humanity persisted. Some in vain, some succeeding, and others, like himself, not at all.

"Can I ask something else?" Seungkwan pulls him from his thoughts. There's a prying curiosity that's scribbled all over his face. Grinning like a schoolgirl with fresh gossip to tell her friends. Chan decides to entertain his curious mind, nodding.

"How do you two know each other?" He gestures at the two of you curled up on the couch. "Like, what's the story there?"

Chan's heart drops straight into his ass and like a reflex, he glances down to ensure you're really asleep. The two of you haven't exactly gotten the chance to talk about everything quite yet. So as of now, he isn't sure where you stand. He decides the more vague the better.

"We met in our third year of university. Their roommate was friends with my roommate."

Seungkwan squints his eyes, visibly displeased with that answer. "And?"

"And..." Chan toys with the material of his pants. "We dated. Two years. Just... didn't work out in the end."

Chan seriously wishes Seungkwan's facial expressions weren't so telling. That way he'd be able to at least pretend he was getting out of this conversation any time soon. But still, the boy persists, nagging him about the who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's until Chan caves. Explaining everything from the stolen glances that started it all, to the teary-eyed bittersweet end.

He vividly remembers the way regret pooled in his chest the moment your front door shut. Making his chest feel cold and empty, a feeling that stuck around nearly every day after. Reminding him of what he let go of for the past three years. The conversation plays on in a loop in his head, and since then, he's thought up about a thousand ways he would've done differently.

"Are you saying you want to break up?" Your voice was so small it ripped Chan's heart in two. 

"No! I just— I mean, but... shouldn't we?"

"Our lives started growing in different directions faster than we could keep up." He explains to Seungkwan, who's been uncharacteristically quiet. Not once stopping to interject his opinion or pop in another question. "They were offered a really good internship a few cities away. I was given the opportunity to be mentored by a renowned choreographer. We'd both be so busy. It didn't seem fair to hold each other back from our dreams. There wasn't much of a choice."

But that's not true. Chan ripped the bandaid off long before it could prove to stand the test of time because he was scared. He assumed the love you felt for him would slowly wither and die with the distance. Drawn out in a slow and painful process he couldn't bear the burden of. So he ran, like a coward, and left you to deal with the fallout by yourself.

It's funny, how the universe deals out karma.

"Probably the dumbest decision I've ever made."

Seungkwan hums, relaxing back into his wooden rocking chair, seemingly deep in thought. A silence settles over the room, only the sound of dying embers softly crackling fills the air.

You stir next to him, nose cutely scrunched up as you search for a more comfortable position. Chan hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you to fully lean against him, being extra cautious not to accidentally jostle you awake. You finally settle, and he can't help but notice your body still fits against his perfectly. Just like to used to.

And when Chan lifts his head back to meet Seungkwan's eyes, he catches the tail end of a fond smile. He rises from the chair, making his way around behind the sofa.

"You made it back, that's all that matters." He whispers, hand on Chan's shoulder. "You don't get a lot of second chances in life— much less in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe it's time you stop just trying to survive and start letting yourself live. Whatever that looks like for you."

Spring rounds the corner like an old friend. Marking officially one year since the world went to shit and bringing with it much-needed rain in the form of rolling storms. One brews on the horizon, dark clouds gradually closing in on the afternoon sun. The cool breeze feels refreshing against Chan's damp skin. A pleasant contrast to the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, filled with scavenged treasures from the latest scout.

"You know, I offered to carry it halfway," you tease, significantly less out of breath than Chan on your trek back home. The exterior of the townhouse hadn't fared well with the harsh storms, yet it's a welcomed sight nonetheless.

"Yeah, but that would require him relinquishing about this much pride," Seungkwan laughs while pinching his fingers together, squinting through the narrow gap between them.

"It's not even that heavy," Chan scoffs, and if you clock his lie, you don't make it known.

"Whatever you say, golden boy," Seungkwan snickers, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smirk before veering off to the small plot just to the left of the entrance steps.

Seungkwan, arguably the most excited for Spring to arrive, had taken up gardening. Plowing up the soil with a water-logged wooden shovel and planting various packs of seeds he'd once found on a scout. They were mostly just flowers, anything useful like fruits and veggies having already been snatched up by other scavengers. However, he'd been lucky enough to find one packet of tomato seeds, one of green onion seeds, and another of squash seeds. The boy has a surprisingly green thumb, having created a flourishing garden in just a month.

"It's looking beautiful, Seungkwan. Another few weeks and we may actually have something to eat that isn't out of a can." You praise, admiring the colorful arrangement as well.

Sure, the fruits and veggies are nice, but Chan much prefers the cluster of voluminous purple hyacinths. Their vibrant color reminds him of the rich sunsets he'd use as a child to gauge when to return home for dinner.

He swiftly plucks a single bloom from the arrangement and places it behind your ear. You smile at the gesture, and it somehow shines brighter than the flower itself. A sight he believes is capable of parting the gray clouds stretching across the sky.

"Stop killing my babies, Lee Chan." Seungkwan chastises, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Sorry," he sheepishly grins, remembering Seungkwan's no-touching rule he had applied to the garden.

In the distance, there's a low rumbling that draws your attention to the sky. "We should go in before it starts pouring." You take Chan's hand, tugging him inside while his heart beats out of his chest. You call out for Seungkwan as well, urging him that his babies will be fine in the rapidly approaching storm.

Rain slowly begins to patter against the rafters the second the front door squeaks shut. Crescendoing to a downpour within a matter of minutes. Sounds like the three of you are in for a long one tonight.

It was hard to notice at first. The occasional slip-ups here and there. Easy enough to blame the rising Summer heat on Seungkwan's mood swings. Even if the boy had been more readily agitated lately, his bubbly moments stuck around in an abundance that excused the outbursts.

Though Chan can't quite get over that look on your face the first time Seungkwan snapped at you. Something about his bush of hydrangeas being disturbed despite you insisting you hadn't laid so much as a finger on his garden. But the moment tears slipped from your irises, Seungkwan crumbled. His eyes blown wide in horror as the realization hit. He uttered endless apologies, begging for forgiveness until you assured him everything was okay.

And to his credit, he hadn't had an outburst that big since. But still, you made sure to be extra cautious around his garden from then on out.

The red patches painting his arms are harder to ignore, though. Especially with the incessant noise of nails obsessively itching at dry skin.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, finally voicing his concerns after watching the boy go at his skin with an inhuman determination for the past half hour. The sight reminding him of a rabid dog infested with fleas. With little care for its own health, left only with the insatiable urge to make the itching stop.

Seungkwan's head snaps up with feral eyes, though they dissolve into cheery crescents quick enough to fool Chan into believing he was just imagining things. Perhaps he'd been a little too on guard around his friend. The sweltering heat surely didn't help his nerves.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I must've gotten into some poison ivy, it's been driving me mad."

It only got worse.

The scratching.

It keeps Chan awake in the late night hours. That dry sound echoing in his head over and over and over and over. And during the day, despite it being the peak of Summer, Seungkwan wears long sleeves. They do well in muffling the sound and hiding whatever visuals resulted from the night before. Yet, he forgets to scrub the dried blood from under his nails.

There's an unease that settles in Chan's chest and makes a nest there. A feeling that comes in waves, yet never fully leaves him. It consumes his thoughts and taints the air in his lungs until he feels like he may choke on it. Unable to breathe a single word about his worries without accidentally manifesting them into fruition. Because perhaps nothing is awry. Perhaps Chan is the one slowly losing his mind.

After all, you've yet to mention anything. Content with humoring Seungkwan's better moments in spite of his worst.

Perhaps, Chan is still stuck in his mirage.

It happened again.

Seungkwan snapped and this time Chan had to intervene.

Over his garden again.

The once glorious flowers were sad and wilting, through no fault of anyone's, but the elements. The heat was harsh on them and there hadn't been enough rain in a while to revive them. Not to mention, Seungkwan simply hadn't been tending to them as much as he thought he had. He spent most of his days now obsessing over illusions instead.

Swore he saw spiders in the rations. Heard scratching in the walls. Had caught shadows of looters pacing outside at night.

You called it dehydration.

But he'd somehow gotten it into his head you'd been poisoning the soil when he wasn't looking. He swung the front door open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges, yelling obscenities about how you betrayed him. How rotten and horrid you were for killing the one thing that'd given him any semblance of joy. Chan swears he's never seen someone so unhinged as Seungkwan in that moment.

All it took was three large steps in your direction for Chan to brace himself in front of you. However, all it really took to freeze Seungkwan in his steps was his name. Loud and firm. Lighting a clarity in his eyes that's been missing for a few days now. He ushers the boy outside with haste. Too afraid to look back at your crumbling face.

Seungkwan collapses down on the stone steps. He pulls his knees to his chest and digs his palms into his eyes, hard. "I fucked up, didn't I?" He whimpers.

Chan doesn't know what to say. He did. But confirming it when he's in such a state seems cruel. And he doesn't care to twist the knife any further. He just takes a seat next to what's left of his friend and lays a comforting hand on his back.

"I'm scared." Seungkwan's head tips back to the sky. Chan had always been under the assumption that Seungkwan was oblivious to his deteriorating state. But the steady stream of tears down the boy's cheeks says otherwise.

"I can feel my mind slowly becoming not my own."

"Maybe it's not—"

"I already tried telling myself that." Chan's heart sinks as the boy hikes up his sleeves. Revealing the angry red tracks and rust-colored scabs covering a majority of his forearms. Some wounds still look fresh, and painfully deep.

"That's the first symptom, right? Feeling like there's ants under your skin. Being easily irritated. Foggy memories, whole days missing..." He looks ahead at the setting sun. "I'm already seeing things. Was it one or two months the broadcast said the infected have once those start?"

Chan tries to remember back to when his radio crackled to life for the first time. He's pretty sure it's one.

"I can't remember."

Seungkwan pushes a bitter laugh through his nostrils. "Me either."

Chan glances at the sad plot of greenery beside him. He frowns at the way the tulips droop and their petals hang limp. At least those who are still trying to hold on. Desperate to escape the same fate as their counterparts that have already begun decaying into the soil.

He looks back to Seungkwan and wonders what it's like. To have the tulips weep for you. For them to bow their heads and shed their petals like tears. He also wonders if you'll grieve for Seungkwan as gracefully as they do.

"Promise me one thing?" Seungkwan whispers. His eyes already look like they're glazing over again.

"Anything."

He speaks your name with longing. "Take care of them, yeah? I know it seems like they have their shit together, but that's not how it always was."

"What do you mean?" Chan asks, skin crawling. But Seungkwan continues to stare ahead, eyes focused on who knows what in the distance. He blinks slowly, "It's not my story to tell. Just... promise."

"I promise. Don't worry, it's not something you even have to ask."

"The garden, too." His lips lift at the corners. Chan thinks it's a smile, but it's too uncanny to recognize. "If you're taking requests."

He agrees, partly to provide Seungkwan with what little peace of mind he can offer him, but also because he already has been. Chan tries on occasion to care for the sad little plants. Wetting the soil with what little water he can spare.

Part of him naively hoped that maybe somehow, some way, if the garden could be nursed back to its former glory, so could Seungkwan. But deep down, Chan has learned to tell the difference between a dream and reality by now.

And the reality is, Seungkwan reeks of borrowed time.

The world stole your smile when it stole Seungkwan. It ripped his soul from your grasp as Chan held you in his. Kicking and screaming.

Endless tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought to hold you back. Your pleas grew more desperate and wrangled. Mixing with the garbled, wretched, shrieks of your friend. Fingers clawing at his eyes. The virus embedded so deep in his brain he was no longer Seungkwan.

Just another host.

Your voice was the last to call Seungkwan's name that day. Raspy and hollow as you begged for his life. Begged the universe to not take the last ray of sunshine the world had to offer. Begged Seungkwan to fight just one more day. Begged Chan to let you save him despite all hope having set when the sun did. The scratches you'd left on his forearms remained a week after. But the hole Seungkwan's presence left has yet to fade.

Neither of you spoke of the boy in that time. He still doesn't know if that's for better or worse. Chan's terrified you'll shatter if he so much as whispers the boy's name. But to act like he never existed in the wake of it... well, that just doesn't feel right either.

But Chan knows there's no proper way to grieve. He figured that out at the beginning. He'd had damn near a year to mourn everyone he ever loved, you've only had a week. He knows with time, acceptance will come. But it kills him not knowing how to help.

So instead, Chan does the hard stuff.

He buries Seungkwan. Next to his garden, so that next Spring he can watch it grow. He stacks rocks as a makeshift headstone and plucks dried, stiff asphodel from the garden to make it look neat. He rearranges the bookshelf into a tiny shrine of Seungkwan's things. His favorite books he'd read over and over. A silver ring, with some date Chan doesn't know the meaning of carved into it. A liquor bottle that he used as a makeshift vase with the last flowers he picked still in it. Long dead, but the petals somehow still holding on. Replaces one of the bronze picture frames of strangers with a photo he found tucked away in Seungkwan's bag. One of him and two other people he assumes are his parents.

And when he's done, he lights a candle, the flame drawing you out like a moth.

"What is this?" you croak. It's the first you've spoken to Chan since it happened.

"Something to honor him," Chan whispers, keeping his gaze locked on the flickering light. He's too scared to see your reaction. Afraid you'll break down again. Afraid you'll hate it and scream that he has no right to mourn someone you loved for longer. Afraid that if he sees your tears flowing, he won't be able to stop his own.

Because he also knows part of you still resents him for that night. For grabbing your waist and stopping your momentum from hurtling towards Seungkwan. Robbing you of the chance to hold and comfort your friend one last time. Your screams echo in his head as a reminder whenever your gaze refuses to meet his or you shrug away from his touch.

But then your head falls to his shoulder like an olive branch stretching across a battlefield. Your sniffles break through the silence. Chan hesitantly pulls you closer, and when you don't flinch away, he does even more so until your full weight is against him.

When Seungkwan was here, there was rarely a moment of silence. But now, the house, and you, are quiet. And all Chan can hear are the sounds of heartbreak. Never before had he thought it could be so incredibly loud.

The cold air sneaks in sometime around mid-November. Bringing with it longer nights and temperatures low enough to warrant nightly fires again.

You haven't talked much since the night you cried your heart out on Chan's shoulder. Operating more like a zombie replicating past routines from life before. Wake up. Scavenge. Eat. Sleep. So when you offer up the first ounce of interest in something other than your daily routine, Chan nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I miss the ocean," you mumble, solemn eyes looking down at the crackling fire. The tip of your nose red from the chill.

"We can go if you want... If it would make you happy." He says though he'd settle for content. To bring you back, he'd do anything.

You nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And Chan makes it happen.

Maps out the closest beach. Rigs up two rusty old bikes he found in a shed. Packs enough provisions just in case. All for the sake of maybe returning with a sliver of the person you used to be.

The two of you easily find the rocky formation looking over the dark sea, waves raging below. It's here, that Chan truly realizes just how much of a shell you've become of your former self. The way you inch closer and closer to the sharp edge is lifeless. Like a magnet being pulled at with no will of your own. It lodges a dagger of dread through the center of his chest.

"Don't go so close, you could slip." Chan doesn't know if you can't hear him over the crashing waves below or if you simply choose not to. But your feet keep moving and Chan's feel cemented to the ground.

"That's close enough!" He calls.

Again, nothing.

Your toes hang over the edge now, hands in your jacket pockets. Raging waves slam against the cliff, reaching up for you. You close your eyes and point your nose to the sky.

Wind rushes around Chan. His shoes slip on the slick rocks below as instinct takes charge of his momentum while his brain remains frozen in panic. His lungs refuse to work until his arm can hook around your torso. Yanking you back with such a force it throws the both of you off balance. It isn't until his back meets solid rock that he finally gasps in a sputtering breath. The dull throbbing is instant, but the full weight of you atop his chest is comforting.

Chan desperately scrambles to collect you in his arms. Pulling your back against his chest so that he can curl around you like a protective barrier from the world.

"I wasn't going to jump." You whisper. But he feels no comfort from your empty words.

"Please don't make me lose you twice." He pleads like a child, rocking you in his grasp. The salty spray from the ocean mixes with his tears until he can't tell what is what. Right now, the only thing he's certain of is the one in his grasp. The feeling of you in his arms, safe, and he doesn't want to ever lose that. Call it selfish if you must. Lee Chan will wear that title proudly.

There's a rush of déjà vu as you crumble, muttering Seungkwan's name between wretched sobs, nails deep in his forearms. Sobbing about how you miss him, how unfair it is, everything you've been holding in since. Chan holds you tighter. Scared you'll slip away like the tide. Like Seungkwan did. Plunged into cold, thrashing darkness.

He prays to whatever merciful forces have forsaken him to please not do the same to you.

It's a silent trip back to the townhouse and you all but collapse from exhaustion the second you're through the door. Dragging yourself over to the couch and immediately curling into a ball. Chan takes the liberty of lighting the fire before sitting down beside you. He opens his arms, and to his surprise, you accept, letting your head fall into his lap. His arm securely drapes over your torso, though you're quick to cradle his hand. Hugging it to your chest so that his palm can feel the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

Chan lets out a long-held sigh, counting each beat like a lullaby. Then focuses on the rise and fall of your chest. Letting the steady swells ease the adrenaline from his system.

For a second, life is okay. Happy, even. Like how it was back before the world ended. Before he broke your heart. When he didn't care about anything except you and passing chemistry.

"I'm scared to lose you." When you say it, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. "I always thought maybe, because we'd made it this far, that meant we were somehow immune. That the worst was over for us."

You pause to take a deep breath. But Chan doesn't push, simply thankful you've finally decided to let him shoulder the weight you carry.

"But if Seungkwan can die, that means you can too. Then who do I have?"

"I'd never leave–"

"You can't promise that," you drop to a whisper. Compensating for the waver in your voice. And you're right, he can't. Not in a world as cruel as this.

But he wants to.

"I don't believe in this world anymore. Not after what it did to him."

"Can you believe in me?"

Your answer doesn't come in the verbal form. Nor does it come quickly, which makes Chan think he's officially lost you. But then your fingers thread with his, squeezing in a way that he can only describe as feeling like pure hope.

Chan can't remember when the turning point was. All he knows is that today, months after the ocean, life feels peaceful once more. The Spring breeze is gentle against his skin as he lays in the soft grass with your head on his stomach. Surrounded by the aroma of the newly bloomed tulips that far outshine the rest of the garden.

He doesn't have as nearly green of a thumb as Seungkwan did, but he's proud. The garden is lush, green, and full of life. A little chaotic, but beautiful nonetheless.

Chan had even managed to revive the hydrangeas Seungkwan was so fond of.

You point to clouds with upturned lips, remarking on their resemblance to various animals. It's not the first time he's been lucky enough to catch you smiling in the subsequent months. But he knows to cherish each one more than he once did.

There's still a chill to the spring air and Chan tugs at his sleeves. Ignoring the incessant urge to animalistically claw at his arm. At the itch so deep under his skin, it feels like it's in the bone.

[peterspizzashirt]

.

[peterspizzashirt]

Spiced Caramel and Rosemary

pairing : jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

fluff , humor , mutual pining , coffee shop !au , college!au , meet cute

warnings : language

word count : 2.7 k

requested ? no

a/n : i can't ever write oneshots in moderation. it's always 3k full standing fics. n e ways, dk best hype and wing man !!

Wonwoo has a routine. And while he doesn't consider himself to be a particularly rigid person, he doesn't often like to stray from it.

He isn't opposed to trying new things– the occasional night out with Seungcheol, karaoke at a bar downtown with Seungkwan, a new game with Chan; but he does find comfort in having a set schedule. Especially during weekdays. Wake up around nine. Go to classes until one. Grab lunch. Work out. And the most important part, be settled down with his laptop, textbooks, and notes by three, locked away in his favorite coffee shop with a subpar dark caramel cold brew in hand. Sure, it's not an award-winning cup-of-Joe by any means, but Wonwoo's always been a tad sentimental and considers the small shop his own little haven.

So, understandably, he's a bit irked when Seokmin flat-out refuses to negotiate on a study spot. Suggesting his own favorite shop a bit further from campus to work on their project. No matter how much Wonwoo vouches for his regular shop, Seokmin won't be deterred, insisting it's the only place he can actually focus at.

Ultimately, Wonwoo decides a little disruption to his routine is worth it if it'll provoke his normally restless partner into being studious for an hour or two.

"I promise, you're gonna love it!" He boasts. Wonwoo just hums in response.

It's no wonder he's never tried Seokmin's favorite spot, much less heard of it. The shop, known as "Local Brew," is tucked away in one of the many alleys in the maze that is the outskirts of campus. Unnoticeable unless you're already looking for it.

The outside is... definitely charming. Chipped brick overrun by moss and the occasional piece of chewed gum frame the glass entrance. The windows of which are scribbled over in neat, pretty writing. Vibrant pinks and yellows showcasing low prices, catchy promotions, and flowery doodles. Seokmin plows right through, sounding the ring of a bell.

A honeyed voice greets him immediately. "Seokmin! It's nice to see you again. Should I get the usual started?"

Wonwoo knows that voice. And subsequently, Wonwoo knows this is the point in which he is, for lack of a better word, absolutely and irrevocably fucked.

Seokmin however, marches on, blissfully unaware of how his friend's heart is in desperate need of some jumper cables. "Yes please, oh, and extra sweet!"

"You're gonna rot your teeth out one of these days, but you got it."

"You're the best," he sings.

"I see you brought a friend this time. What can I– Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo knows it's his turn to speak. But his lips can only form shapes of empty words, like a fish out of water gasping for air. He tries shaking his head, hoping the action will knock a brain cell or two together so he can form a sentence that isn't wholly embarrassing. Though the effects are like that of an Etch A Sketch and he turns up empty-headed again.

He clears his throat and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, more of a nervous habit than an adjustment, and wings it. "Hi, Y/N, it's um, been a while."

It has in fact been two hours. Probably less.

Wonwoo's internally punching the walls right now. It's been a while? Is he serious? He literally saw you in class earlier. Honesty, could he sound more idiotic?

Your brow furrows and Wonwoo's just about to make a mad dash for the exit until your features soften and a grin tugs at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I guess you could say so. Dr. Kang's class sure makes it feel that way, huh?"

Wonwoo forgets he's supposed to respond again, and the awkward stretch of silence that results is insufferable at best. He rushes out his next sentence. "I didn't know you worked here."

You happily nod. "Every Tuesday and Thursday. Sometimes weekends."

"I only come when Y/N's working," Seokmin reminds everyone of his presence. "They make the best coffee."

You visibly blush at that, "Ah, stop that. Seokmins easy to please, as long as it's sweet he's not too picky. I'd take his word with a grain of salt." Another pause. It's truly a wonder how Wonwoo manages to stay at the top of his class yet struggles to uphold a perfectly mundane conversation. He's stuck just marveling at you, cute and clad in your brown barista apron.

"So," you drawl out. "Were you looking to order anything?"

Right. He's at a coffee shop. He should order coffee. Wonwoo's eyes dart to the menu above your head, relieved he has an excuse to do something other than stand there like a deer in headlights.

"Sorry, it's his first time here." Seokmin whispers. Wonwoo is pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear it, but his friend has never been great with subtlety.

"No worries, if you have any questions feel free to ask."

Why do you have to be so... radiant? Sweet. Patient. Kind. You. Geez, Wonwoo is down. Bad. Has been since the first day of class when you asked to borrow a pen. Even more so the second day when you took the empty seat next to him to return the utensil and never bothered getting up.

He nearly died when you asked for his number the following week. Claiming you'd need at least one friend in class to get through an entire semester of high-level calculus. Wonwoo isn't used to receiving the amount of attention you've invested in him. Usually, he finds a seat on the aisle and keeps to himself for the few classes he doesn't share with a friend. But you seemed to have no problem claiming him as your "calculus buddy" as you liked to call it, despite the multitude of empty seats you had to choose from.

And as much as Wonwoo doesn't want to be the fool that falls in love with the first person to show the slightest interest in him, he can't help but get a little giddy on the days he has calculus. The odds are stacked against him when it comes to his feelings for you. It's been two months since you asked for that pen, yet he still finds your presence warmer than the sun itself.

Though, at least he knows when he'll see you for class and can mentally prepare himself to not say something completely and utterly embarrassing for the hour you're next to him. But he's never considered the possibility of running into you beyond the walls of the mathematics building. So you can imagine the inner turmoil in his brain as he tries to formulate a way to get through this interaction with his ego unscathed.

"Uh, Wonwoo, you're holding up the line, buddy." Seokmin nudges him.

The line in question is just an elderly couple who seem like they couldn't care less about the wait. Rather caught up in surveying the pastry selection.

"Just get whatever you do at that other place," Seokmin suggests. Which is a genius idea, except another quick scan of the menu reveals you don't offer it.

Wonwoo looks to his friend pleadingly, "What did you get?"

Luckily, Seokmin is as perceptive today as he is sociable and extends Wonwoo a lifeline. "Why don't you just surprise him?" He says, which seems to pique your interest. "You can trust Y/N, that's how I found my favorite drink here!"

"I can do that!" Wonwoo isn't one for surprises. Though the excitement that’s radiating from your person at the proposition has Wonwoo agreeing instantly. "Any allergies or preferences?" 

"No, just nothing too sweet, iced if you can."

You nod and scribble something down on a clear cup.

Seokmin pays, and Wonwoo couldn't be happier to hide away in a booth in the furthest corner of the room. He lets his head fall into his hands, propped up on the table by his elbows. That couldn't have gone any worse. Wonwoo groans as someone shuffles into the seat across from him. He peeks through his fingers at who it is.

Seokmin's chin is rested in his palms, elbows propping him up all the way across the table to lean in way too close to Wonwoo. Judging by the wide, knowing grin on Seokmin's face, there's no escaping his friend's inevitable prying curiosity.

"Sooo... how do you know, Y/N?"

"We have calculus together," Wonwoo says shortly, hoping to curve Seokmin off the topic. It doesn't work, of course.

"I see, I see," his friend nods, pauses, then says, "And how long have you had a crush on them?"

The blunt question sends Wonwoo sputtering, drawing the attention of nearby patrons as he slaps his chest, trying to regain his composure and lung capacity. He mutters out apologies with pink-tinged cheeks to the surrounding tables. Clearing his throat once more, Wonwoo glares back at his instigator, who's wiggling his eyebrows, a little too happy with himself.

"That long, huh?"

"I'm never coming back here with you."

"Oh come on," Seokmin whines. "It wasn't that bad."

"I'm writing my Will tonight. You'll never see or hear from me again. I'm going to live in the woods far, far, away from any life on earth. Become a hermit and– what?" Wonwoo deadpans, giving his friend an incredulous look upon noticing his expression of wild bewilderment.

"Nothing," Seokmin put up his hands in surrender. "It's just weird seeing you like this. I mean, I've never seen your brain actually malfunction like that before. Like, you really—"

"I'm leaving."

"—Okay, okay, sorry." He grins sheepishly. "You're really worked up over them, huh? It's endearing. I feel like I've seen a new side to you Wonny!"

Wonwoo just sighs, giving up completely on trying to stop his friend's teasing. It's better if he just endures it until he eventually moves on to another topic.

"So, how do you plan on asking them out?"

"I'm not."

"What!?" Seokmin loudly exclaims, and Wonwoo shushes him as all attention falls on their table once more. He speaks again, though this time in a whisper. "Why not?"

Wonwoo shrugs, "I dunno, they're just so lively and outgoing and confident. I doubt I'm even their type." It's not that Wonwoo lacks any or all confidence in his character. Contrary to what others may think, he's quite content with himself. Hasn't ever felt a need to alter his personality or conform to those around him for the sake of making friends.

But people like you should really be with... well... people like you. Like Seokmin or Mingyu or hell, even Joshua.

It's Seokmin's turn to glare at Wonwoo now. "Wonwoo, my friend, my buddy, my pal. I say this to you with unwavering, trustworthy, unbiased—" Wonwoo doubts that "—factual, one hundred percent, certainty. You are like, the perfect boyfriend."

Wonwoo scrunches his face up at that.

"I'm serious!" Seokmin slaps his hands down on the wooden table, making it rattle, and starts listing off traits with his fingers. "Wonwoo, listen, your boyfriend-ability potential is through the roof. You're smart, built, super attentive, have great bone structure, and you've got that shy, quiet, mysterious, gamer-guy charm to you. People really dig that nowadays."

Wonwoo chews at his lip. As over-the-top and exaggerated as his friend's dazzling reviews of his supposed "boyfriend-ability" may be, it really does wonders to boost the morale. It has Wonwoo's confidence soaring, a newfound determination burning in his chest. Maybe he will ask you out.

Until the air around their table shifts and a fluttering presence eclipses any short-lived ambition.

"Sorry for the wait," You're smiling down at Wonwoo, two plastic cups in hand. "It took a while to figure out what you might like. But then I remembered you usually have something with caramel every time you come to class. Though if you hate it I'm more than happy to remake something for you!"

You're blushing madly, but all Wonwoo can focus on is the fact you pay him enough attention from day to day to know the contents of his coffee order.

You set the cup down in front of him, then hand Seokmin his. "I hope you enjoy!"

Wonwoo's useless brain fails him once more. "You too."

You're off and back behind the counter before Wonwoo registers his mistake. That's like strike twelve for him at this point.

"Ah, young love." Seokmin interrupts Wonwoo's sulking, biting down on his straw with the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up."

Wonwoo picks up his cup and examines its contents. It's noticeably darker and thinner than Seokmin's, but he still can't really tell what exactly it is. However, you'd think the coffee was brewed with holy water and magic fairytale beans by the way Seokmins already sucked down half of his.

Wonwoo rotates the cup, squinting at the scribbles of black sharpie on the side. Dark roast, spiced caramel, rosemary, oat milk.

"Rosemary?" He reads, shooting a look at his friend who stops slurping on his own to shrug. "That's an odd flavor."

"I've learned not to question Y/N's expertise long ago, they know what you like even if you don't. It's sort of creepy." He visibly shudders.

"What's yours?"

"Dark chocolate, cherry, vanilla, and whole milk, extra sweet."

"Fruit? In coffee? That doesn't sound like it'd be good." Wonwoo frowns, suddenly doubting the efficacy of his own beverage.

"Shall I go tell Y/N you think they're a terrible barista then?"

"No!" Wonwoo answers a little too quickly and a little too loud. He clears his throat. "—I mean, no, no it's fine. I'm merely saying it's unique, is all."

Seokmin places his hand over Wonwoo's wrist and physically shoves the cup toward his lips, causing the straw to jab into his skin. "Ow!" He complains, swatting at his arm.

"Oh my God, just drink it. I promise it'll be better than whatever boring, run-of-the-mill, bean-water, you get from that other place."

Wonwoo frowns and grumbles, "It's not boring." But he knows that's far true.

Hesitantly, he takes a sip. The spiced caramel hits his tongue first. It's a warm flavor, a pleasant contrast to the drink itself being cold. Then the rosemary edges in with a strong, yet not too overpowering taste. The oat milk blends everything together smoothly and leaves a nice aftertaste.

"Wow," the word slips out. Wonwoo pulls the drink back to examine it again, eyes wide. It's easily the best thing he's ever tasted, far better than, as Seokmin put it, his usual run-of-the-mill order. Wonwoo can't even fathom how your mind came up with a drink so addicting. If God is real, then Wonwoo's positive they have a dazzling smile and work at Seokmin's favorite coffee shop.

"Good, right?" Seokmin grins.

"Amazing."

"You know, if you asked Y/N out they'd probably make your coffee any time you asked~"

That's a pretty convincing argument.

Wonwoo likes his routine. And he's quite fond of his regular coffee shop, so he still frequents there to study.

Except for Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And sometimes weekends.

"Hi, Wonwoo," you greet with your usual bright smile. "Same as usual?"

"Yes, please." He matches your smile, having finally recovered from the catastrophe that was his first visit. Ever since Seokmin let it slip how you'd been gushing about Wonwoo to him ever since you discovered they were friends, he's been feeling a little more confident.

"You know, if you ever want to try something new, I won't be offended." You narrow your eyes at him. But Wonwoo just shakes his head at you, chuckling.

"Eh, I try not to stray from what I already know too much."

"Oh, so that's why you haven't gotten rid of me as your calculus buddy yet." You quip.

"Among other reasons." He shrugs, lips pulling back into a toothy grin. Wonwoo fishes into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet to thumb through his cards.

"It's okay, it's on the house today."

Wonwoo looks up, brows furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I always give my favorite customers free coffee on Sundays." By the way your eyes quickly dart back at your other coworkers, Wonwoo doubts the validity of that.

"Well, I'll have to pay you back somehow."

"Next week's homework would be great!" You grin cheekily.

"Hmm," Wonwoo thinks for a moment, readjusting his glasses. "I would, but I haven't started it yet. Could I offer to take you out instead?"

"I would like that very much."

[peterspizzashirt]

Thin Ice - Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

WARNINGS: mild angst, cursing, arguing, clingy kuroo cause i think he’s adorable, hurt/comfort

-

SUMMARY: after an intense fight with kuroo, you resign to the couch for the night. however, kuroo still needs his nightly dose of cuddles and is determined to get them

-

“Whatever Tetsurou, I’m too tired for this anymore. I’m done.” The two of you had been arguing into the late night hours about God knows what at this point. So much had regrettably been said in the past hour that you couldn’t even tell who was in the wrong anymore. It was just one thing after the other. Your cheeks were damp with the few tears you��d been unable to hold back and your head was pounding like a drum. You were absolutely drained.

Not that Kuroo was fairing much better, dark bags hung under his blood shot and glossy eyes, causing his face to look a little more hollow than it actually was. If anything, he looked even more exhausted than you were.

Keep reading

[peterspizzashirt]

[6:43 AM] + post apocalypse + ex! san + "get out."

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

a/n: part 4/?, warnings for descriptions of a flashbacks to a toxic relationship, angst, please let me know what you think and/or if you'd like to be added to the taglist

-

"get out."

san sits with his back to the ratty old couch, a bloody rag pressed to his nose, yunho hovering over him, but he looks you dead in the eyes with the sort of hatred that makes your heart nearly stop for a moment, and he says it with such calm, such quiet confidence, that your heart really does stop. the bickering around you falls away for a moment, so quiet you almost hear the monsters beyond the walls.

he says it again, with more conviction, and you can tell he's thinking of that cold night as he says it. you know he's embodying the person you were that night.

you take a deep breath, shuddering breath, holding your throbbing knuckles close.

his words echo, "get the fuck out."

~.~.~.~.~

"i know the range isn't the best, but you'd always talked about playing with the radio as a kid and how much you missed it and i -"

you'd laughed and san clamped his mouth shut, brows knit together in anxiety. you clutched the radio to your chest, smiled at his him, watching as his tense shoulders relaxed and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and you said, "i love it, you're so sweet. i didn't think you'd been paying attention like that."

"of course i am," he'd rolled his eyes, soft eyes filled with a fondness that used to make your heart pound against your ribs. "it has a walkie-talkie function too, so if you ever want to talk, i'm always listening."

that was the moment you knew a part of your heart belonged to him and would remain with him until the end of your days.

that piece of your heart only grew larger as time passed and he used the walkie talkie function to whisper goodnight. your friends asked why he didn't just use a phone, but you found the gesture sweet.

after your first fight of many many to come, he'd sat with his back against your closed door and his crackly, broken sorry filled the room.

you used to fight over the same thing. over the fact that you were terrible at showing him the affection he wanted. you were both too defensive for your own good, perhaps because you were young and unbelievably stubborn, perhaps because the main issue was that neither of you were compatible and you did not want to admit it. love was there, and so was passion, but that did not matter when you could barely talk about what bothered you with tossing hurtful words at each other. you couldn't explain that it was hard for you to show affection and care, your love, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. san reacted. that was just who he was. he reacted and he tried to pry reactions out of you, and since you didn't give affection, he figured he could get jealousy or anger or something. the more insecure he grew in your relationship, the more insecure you grew in it. it only snowballed into something awful and toxic that you both were desperate to hold on to. perhaps it was because lows were so low that the highs held you both together. when you made up, you didn't think anyone could ever love you as hard as san could. you didn't think you were cut out for something calm and boring, because you were good at this and it felt good and it was the kind of love you'd seen in movies and books.

the night it all went to shit, there was something different in the air. something other than unbridled fire and the urge to get under someone's skin. maybe it was the same something that grew along with the long gaps between apologies. there used to be a sort of balance. now, not so much.

"i don't love you. i don't even think i've ever liked you. in fact," san spit, "i've barely fucking tolerated you."

it wasn't the most hurtful thing he's said to you, by any means, but something about the lead up to that moment, the excessive fighting, the way he went out of his way to make you angry, everything, truly hit at that moment and you'd stood there speechless. something about him voicing that he didn't truly care - it made your chest feel tight.

it was a cold, winter night when you said, "get out."

your tone had dropped to a quiet whisper, to calmness neither of you were used to anymore. you'd said it to him before, but this time you were dead serious, and choi san could tell.

"get," - you'd stepped forward - "the" - pushed at his chest - "fuck" - he stumbled over his feet, eyes widening, - "out."

he let you push him out of your apartment. you kicked his shoes out behind him, and when you'd looked up and met his gaze, there was a moment where all hung still.

"do not come back."

you'd slammed the door shut on his face. that night the radio beside your bed crackled periodically, the same sound it makes when someone pressed the button to speak. but the radio remained a silent figure at your bedside.

he never said a thing.

and he never came back.

~.~.~.~.~

"from the looks of it, you probably deserved the punch san."

wooyoung's voice cuts through the tension, pitched and lofty and strangely welcome. you tear your eyes from san's, snorting.

"he did deserve it."

if looks could kill, san's burning glare would have set you on fire right then and there.

"i caught them sneaking around. they would have - ow!" san recoils from yunho's hovering hands, glaring.

"oops, my bad," yunho says, tone bland and completely not sorry. "sun will be up soon anyway, san. stop wasting your energy. and stop moving."

you stare between them, from yunho cleaning up san's bloody nose to wooyoung leaning heavily against the doorway up the narrow stairs, to yeosang leaning his chin against his folded arms as he peeks through the hatch you'd come through, and you wonder why they seem to be...defending you? at least, they're not allowing san to toss you out just yet. san relents under yunho's looming figure, though he still attempts to glare at you. the sight would have been amusing if it wasn't for what had just transpired.

"i'll be gone soon," you tell san.

"good," he says, "don't you dare come back."

this time you visibly flinch and san smirks and you fucking hate it. especially when yunho pauses, peering over his shoulder at you, especially when yeosang tilts his head and frowns at you, dark circles under his eyes prominent against his pale skin. you can feel wooyoung's eyes on your back.

"right," you clear your throat, "there goes my plans of visiting. was going to bring a fruit basket and everything."

your sarcasm falls flat, right into the impending silence, and you feel entirely too exposed. san's smirk only deepens.

then wooyoung snorts behind you.

yeosang says, "since we're all awake, why don't we get breakfast and that food and bread i promised you."

"you're giving them bread?" san whips his head to frown at yeosang. the way san looks at yeosang makes you pause. despite his anger towards you, he pouts and his gaze softens. yeosang merely grins, eyes playful, completely different from the angry man you'd helped from a car wreck.

"from your bread stash, to be exact."

san sputters, yunho sighs, yeosang giggles.

wooyoung throws his arm over your shoulder, weighing you down, and you nearly fall over as you try to pull out of his grip. you glare up at him, craning your neck under his weight, but wooyoung just smiles down at you in a strangely kind way and says, "ignore them, let's head down."

you blink.

then he practically drags you towards yeosang and away from san and if he notices the way the tension in your shoulders drops a bit, he doesn't comment.

~.~.~.~.~

"here," yeosang presses a backpack into your arms, and you droop under it's weight.

it's the same exact backpack they'd stolen off you a couple days ago.

you scowl.

"i heard you got robbed?" yeosang says, much too innocently. wooyoung guffaws on the other side of the counter, where he leans heavily.

"i was going to say that this was too much, but never mind, i'm keeping everything," you jab a finger at wooyoung, "and, once again, fuck you."

wooyoung merely grabs your pointer finger and says, "we do have enough time for that, you know."

you groan, but yeosang is the one to smack him over the head for the comment.

there's a brief moment of silence, of knowing that soon you'll have to head back out into the real world and live in fear once more. you're starting to regret not taking the night to get a solid night of sleep.

"do you want batteries?" yeosang asks, suddenly.

"what?"

yeosang points at the radio on your hip, but when he meets your eyes there's a knowing look there, one you're unsure you want to know the meaning behind, "for that?"

you open your mouth to say something, but your breath catches in your throat and you feel overwhelmed, as you had upstairs. maybe leaving this place will be a good thing. vulnerability does not feel good, not after everything.

"i should toss it, honestly."

but you don't unclip it from your belt.

yeosang just nods, though he holds your gaze, then he says, "thanks, again. for mingi. not just getting him out of the car, but staying to help us back."

he knew you were going to run. it's a miracle he isn't holding that against you.

"well, i couldn't pass up free food and a place to stay."

"the sun's up." wooyoung says, gesturing to the ladder.

you nod, shouldering the heavy pack. you glance back down the hall, but there is no san standing there watching you go. you climb the ladder and watch as yeosang goes to the crank to maneuver the door open.

yeosang pats your back awkwardly before he moves to lever and wooyoung drags you into a comfortable side hug.

"by the way, y/n," wooyoung says, "be careful out there. there are some," wooyoung glances at yeosang, and you notice the subtle shake of his head, "weirdos out there. it's not safe. i'd recommend steering clear of going south."

"weirdos? like you guys weirdos or something else?"

wooyoung looks to yeosang once more.

you raise a brow.

yeosang drags a hand over his face, "way to be subtle, woo."

wooyoung wrinkles his nose, "subtlety is for the weak. besides, i owe y/n for bring you and mingi back safe."

"fine, whatever. i'm not talking about it though."

yeosang heads to the ladder, disappearing with one last wave to you. wooyoung sighs before turning to you.

"are you going to tell me or...?"

"you still have the knife?" you nod. he nods, says, "good. keep it close. last i checked, there was a community down south that - it's big and they have some fucked up practices."

he murmurs the last word, rubbing the back of his neck.

"what do you mean by practices?"

"i mean -" wooyoung wrinkles his nose, "it's really not my story to tell, but from my short time in this whole apocalypse thing, i've learned that everyone copes in different ways. san likes to be an insufferable fucking asshole just like yeosang. mingi doesn't talk. you carry around your dead radio -"

"it's not -"

"save the excuses for someone stupid," wooyoung interrupts, though his laugh is strangely kind, especially coupled with the pat on your shoulder, "anyways, there's an entire community of people who cope in a significantly fucked up way. if you're picked up by them, you're screwed."

you raise your chin, "who says i'm easy to pick up?"

wooyoung crosses his arms over his chest, "you're asking me? the person who robbed you blind in broad daylight?"

"shut up."

"anyway, just stay away from them. they mark their territory with orange flags. apparently they've gotten their hands on tire shredders recently, since car accidents are easy targets."

"you mean the car accident mingi and yeosang were in?"

wooyoung looks at you like you're an idiot. "obviously."

"it was just a question," you mumble.

"i mean," wooyoung says, "sure, i'm grateful you helped my friends, but we don't know you, y/n. why would we ever let a stranger stay at our place and then leave? only reason san hasn't been able to toss you out yet is because of what you did, intentional or not. you didn't just save yeo and mingi from death by freaky alien experimentation or whatever. as far as i'm concerned, you saved them from a fate worse than that. so that's why i'm helping you out right now. despite my pretty face, i'm not usually this nice."

you thought it was strange that they were defending you up there, anyway. you'd seen firsthand just how mean wooyoung could be, too. it truly solidifies how this is nothing like Before. this is a world where no one ever does anything just to be kind. and owing favors is a liability. wooyoung seems like the type that rids himself of liabilities immediately.

"oh, uh," still, you can feel your cheeks grow hot at his genuinely sincere tone, "thanks."

"whatever," wooyoung waves a hand, "just steer clear as soon as you can. it looks like they're in town."

his expression grows dark, ominous even, and it seems to warp his expression. it reminds you of the wooyoung who'd robbed you at knifepoint.

"how do you know that?"

"are you paying attention? i mean the tire shredders were -"

"no," you glare at his exasperated tone, "i mean, how do you know they're worse than the alien things? those are pretty fucking awful, wooyoung."

wooyoung's expression darkens.

"we all found each other after those things in the sky showed up," wooyoung says, voice barely louder than a whisper, "at least most of us did. i found yeosang again."

"again?"

"the yeosang today" - wooyoung grits his teeth - "he isn't the yeosang i knew from Before, and he never will be. because of them. that's why i know that they are worse than those fucking aliens."

it's cryptic and confusing, but the way wooyoung clenches his fists and jaw is enough for you to understand that you never want to cross paths with these orange flag-bearing people.

"i'm sorry."

wooyoung lets out a soft breath, shrugs, "what's done is done. now you really have to go, y/n. take care of yourself. don't get robbed."

you nod, ignoring his jab. you watch as he unwinds the door, a small sliver of sun spilling into the bunker.

you slip under the crack.

"there's batteries in the front pocket of your pack, by the way." wooyoung calls to you, bent over so he can wave once more. you glimpse his twinkling eyes one last time before the metal bunker doors slam shut with dull finality.

thud.

you're all alone.

you should ignore his words, but as you stand there basking in the warmth of the blinding sun, blinking rapidly to clear your vision of the bright spots in your vision, your hand moves to the front pocket and curls around the cold batteries, your other hand on the radio at your hip.

~.~.~.~.~

you're an idiot.

after wooyoung's whole speech and the knowledge the car accident you found mingi and yeosang in was intentional, you should have booked it out of town as quickly as possible.

but you hadn't slept a wink and you could barely keep your eyes open. you were tired. the pack on your back was heavy.

so you found a small, out-of-the-way apartment, barricaded the front door and the bathroom door, and slept in pile of blankets in the bathtub, the pack a pillow under your head.

you did everything right.

yet you wake up to the sun in your eyes and a man leaning over you, grin maniacal as he twirls a knife in his hands.

"oh good," he says with a giggle, "you're not dead."

an orange bandana hangs loosely from his neck.

you groan. you're an idiot.

-

taglist: @hither-to-undreamt-of

[peterspizzashirt]

❥𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿

❥𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿

❥𝓢𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓼

✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿✿*:･ﾟﾟ･:*✿

[peterspizzashirt]

𝘼𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙯: 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙂𝙁 𝙃𝙖𝙨 𝘼 𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙚

❥𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔

"I know it's your job honey.....but I'm really not sure how to feel about this..... I'll support you no matter what though..."

You shook your head and held Hongjoong's hands in your own, running your thumbs across the top of his knuckles in a gentle motion.

"I know it's not easy Joong...but thanks for understanding." You smiled at him.

Pouting, he asked.

"Promise you won't fall for your co-actor?"

Chuckling you kissed his pouty lips. "Impossible when I've already fallen for you."

That comment made Hongjoong smile again....even if he was pouting once again after the showed aired and your kissing scene was trending all over. You came to visit him at the studio, food in hand for him and Eden, who had gotten used to having you around.

"Hi Y/N." He greeted you.

"Hi Eden- nim. Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong merely sat there, arms crossed as he glared at the screen in front of him.

"He's been like that all afternoon. I think you should do something." Eden decided it was his cue to leave for a couple minutes.

Tapping his shoulder, you called out to him again.

"Kim Hongjoong?"

He startled you by spinning around and facing you, suddenly blurting out:

"You're still interested in me right?"

Which caused you to burst out laughing.

❥𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎

Maybe if you had told Seonghwa beforehand that you were going to have a kissing scene, everything would have been better. But you were busy with filming and he had to practice endless hours for their upcoming comeback that it was difficult to even talk for 5 minutes and it completely slipped your mind.

So one day, you came home and where you were surprised to see Seonghwa standing there, arms crossed as he tapped his foot on the floor.

"Oh Hwa! Didn't expect you here." You said.

"That makes two of us who weren't expecting things." He huffed out.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you talking about?"

Seonghwa tilted his head, his voice full of passive aggressiveness as he said:

"I'm talking about this!" He held up his phone, showing a screencap of you kissing your co-star.

"I take it you're not happy?" You asked him.

Seonghwa scoffed before letting out a dry laugh.

"Oh no! Of course not! I'm totally fine with someone else exchanging saliva with my girlfriend." He replied sarcastically, holding up his phone again.

You cringed. "Stop the sarcasm. It's only cute when Yeosang does it."

"Oh! So now even Yeosang is cuter than me?!" He exclaimed.

"Park Seonghwa, stop this nonsense before I throw your lint roller in my cat's litter box."

❥𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑜

You felt Yunho shift awkwardly next to you, his hand reaching for some of the popcorn that was in between both of your bodies.

"Yunho, you know it's not necessary to watch it if you don't want." You reminded him, knowing what scene was about to come up next.

Yunho immediately plastered a smile on his face.

"No honey! It's ok. I'm your big, supporting boyfriend who will cheer you on no matter what!" Lifting his fists up, he tried to show enthusiasm, but you could tell he wasn't being genuine.

Yunho glued his eyes back on the tv, one of his legs nervously swinging back and forth. He seemed to be doing fine during the whole confession scene, but when you and yours co-star kissed, he accidentally swung to hard that he ended up hitting the coffee table in front of him. You were about to check up on him, thinking he got hurt, but he just started laughing nervously.

"I'm ok! Just a muscle spasm." He joked.

You never took your eyes off him, knowing that beneath that smile, he was feeling sad and rather insecure about you kissing someone else. You were happy he at least tried to be happy and supportive of you, but you also knew you hated to see him upset.

Sitting up, you turned off the tv and then scooted closer to him. Leaning in, you placed a soft kiss on his lips, making sure to give them one quick peck before pulling back.

"I love you my not so little pup." You giggled at him as he blushed and looked down shyly.

Yunho turned back to you before pushing you down on the couch, pressing you against his back as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I love you too Y/N. And you really did do amazing."

❥𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔

"Yeosang!"

Seonghwa shouted at him when he didn't answer for the 6th time.

"Huh?" He merely took a 1 second glance at the older male before gluing his eyes back on the tv.

"We can change it to something else-"

"No! I will watch it!" He exclaimed, surprising everyone at how loud he got.

"Yeosang....bro.....if you're not ok with this, it'd be better if you don't watch it." His longtime friend Wooyoung advised him.

"I'm ok! I'm totally fine! Just peachy." He picked up his boba tea and began sipping it at a rather fast pace, his eyes squinting at the tv in front of him.

The other guys looked amongst themselves, trying to decide to let him be or change it. Hongjoong ultimately told them it was Yeosang's call and therefore, they watched the rest of the drama.

When your character got kissed, Yeosang halted his sipping, eyes focused on the screen. The other guys tried not to say anything, but when the kiss got a little bit more heated, San couldn't help but let out a "ooooh" while Jongho covered his eyes and made a gagging noise.

Meanwhile Yeosang spat out the leftover liquid into his cup.

"I'm not ok! I am not ok!"

Standing up, Yeosang retreated to his bedroom, where he proceeded to crawl under the covers of his blanket and start groaning dramatically.

Getting up and following him, Wooyoung shook his head as he dialed your number.

"Ok, so your kissing scene broke him. So you better come over with some fried chicken and fix him or else I'll make you pay for making me deal with him if he's not repaired in 2 hours."

❥𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛

As soon as San heard rumors that you were going to have a kissing scene, he immediately called you to make sure they were lies.

"NOOOOOO!!!"

He screeched when you indeed confirm there'd be a kissing scene.

"I'm totally against this! I will not allow this to happen."

You asked the boys to keep him from coming over to the set, but unfortunately San was a cat that could easily slip unnoticed. So you were only made aware of his presence while you were in the middle of shooting your kiss scene because while you and your co-star were leaning in, you heard an extremely loud cough from behind you, which unfortunately got recorded.

"Cut!" The director yelled.

You turned around and nearly flipped out when San merely greeted you with a wave, as he simultaneously glared at your co-star. You spent about 10 minutes trying to shoot the same scene, only for it to be ruined every time due to San's antics. He'd either pretend to sneeze really loudly, push off certain props that made loud noises, even messed around with one of the ropes that sent a sand bag catapulting down the ceiling, nearly injuring your co-star.

"Oops. I just wanted to see what that lever did." He smiled innocently.

Having had enough, you grabbed him by the ear and dragged him out, all while he cried for you to stop in a high pitched voice.

"Listen here Choi San, this drama is supposed to be my big break and I will not have you ruining it for me, got it?!" You warned him.

San merely nodded with a pout.

"Please just don't enjoy it."

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips.

"Dopey cat. I only enjoy your kisses."

❥𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑖

The other guys began laughing as Mingi stared wide eye at the tv in shock as he watched you lip lock with your co-star.

"Mingi! Calm down bro!" San clapped like a seal, dying from laughter.

"It's only acting." Yunho patted him on the shoulder.

Mingi looked back and forth at the tv and them.

"Please tell me there's new technology that edits kissing instead of actually having people physically do it."

His sentence only made them laugh even harder, while he just sat there, pouting intensely. He continued pouting even after you came over to spend time with him. At first you thought he just had a bad day or missed you a lot more than usual. He was clinging onto you even more, his arms instantly wrapping behind you, face hidden on your neck as he nuzzled his nose against your skin. Every time you pulled him off because you needed to go somewhere or get something, he'd follow behind you, linking pinkies with you or holding onto your arm. Then when he began pecking your lips at random times, you knew something was up, which didn't take you long to figure out.

"You saw the scene didn't you?"

Mingi immediately nodded, huffing softly as he cuddled up to you, resting his head on your stomach. You chuckled and ran your fingers through his hair.

"Mingi if it makes you feel better, I thought of you while filming it."

Although he didn't say anything, you knew he was more than likely grinning like an idiot in love.

❥𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑊𝑜𝑜𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔

You really did try to keep Wooyoung from finding out about the kissing scene, even going as far as asking the guys to distract him from watching your drama. But Wooyoung was smarter than you thought.

"There's something she doesn't want me to see. Isn't there?"

So the boys had no choice but to sit there and watch your drama with Wooyoung. He just sat there, straight face throughout the entire thing. But when you kissed your co-star he got the biggest smirk on his face.

"Oh.....so that's what you didn't want me to see." Wooyoung already began thinking about how to mess and tease you with this information, which was exactly the reason you didn't want him finding out in the first place.

As soon as you walked in your apartment, Wooyoung switched the lamp on and turned around in his chair, arms folding across his chest.

"Welcome home cheater."

At that point, you knew you were screwed. And he made sure to milk it for days. If you tried to hug him, he'd squirm out of your embrace. And if you tried to kiss him, he'd turn his face away and say:

"No! I'm not kissing you with that dirty, lying, cheating mouth of yours."

You had enough one day when he refused to cuddle with you though, so you opted for a different option. Getting up, you went over to his room, Wooyoung barely paying attention. When he heard Yeosang scream, he turned his head and watched him run out.

"Please just show your crazy girlfriend affection! She crawled into my bed and attempted to cuddle me!" Yeosang shivered from the physical contact.

Getting up, Wooyoung stormed over to the room.

"So now you're gonna be replacing me with my best friend?! Nuh uh! Come here so I can cuddle you!"

❥𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝐽𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜

"Jongho, remember....stay calm." Hongjoong reminded him.

"Hyung...please. I'm mature and understand this was strictly professional. I'm not going to get mad." Jongho rolled his eyes at the leader.

"Ok, just in case though."

Yunho and Mingi proceeded to sit on opposite sides of him on the couch. Jongho merely scoffed.

"Wow so much for having faith in me. Some older brothers you guys are."

It was good of them to take precautions. Jongho tensed up when he saw your kissing scene, which then turned to outrage when he saw how your co-star's character deepened the kiss and made it even more steamy.

"Hold the fuck up! I thought this was just supposed to be a tiny kiss..."

He glared at the tv, as if trying to set it on fire.

"This is a fucking makeout scene!"

Unable to contain himself anymore, Jongho yelled as he got up from the couch, Yunho and Mingi immediately holding him back from destroying the tv or any other furniture within his reach.

"Guys be careful! He's loose!" San exclaimed as he climbed on top of the couch, Wooyoung following suit.

"Seonghwa! Get some apples for him to relieve stress and anger!" Hongjoong ordered as he attempted to calm Jongho down.

Meanwhile Yeosang just sat there quietly, munching on one of his chicken drumsticks, watching the chaotic scene unfold. Shaking his head, he picked up his phone and called you up.

"Your boyfriend's gone feral. Do you want to come tame him or can I call animal control to come take care of him?" He asked.

"Seriously Yeosang? You're an ass. I'll be there soon." You sighed as you hung up, making a mental note to yourself to pick up all of Jongho's favorite foods.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[peterspizzashirt]

“I screwed up, Hajime.”

The guilt intertwined into Kaede’s confession effectively communicated the level of damage that was administered to Iwaizumi’s already barely existent relationship. And when the model began detailing just what occurred in the span of fifteen minutes, the athletic trainer stared at the grey sky above, silently questioning why he roped in his troublesome group of friends.

It was a childish decision, one that would be reasonable for a teenager but not someone his age. Perhaps that was the problem. The thrill of falling for someone had warped his thoughts and reduced his cognitive ability.

Because you were not the female lead in his teenage dream – you were a real person, with real emotions. Someone who understood responsibility and held an emotional intelligence he and his friend evidently lacked.

Keep reading

[peterspizzashirt]

Ateez Mobile Masterlist

Let me know if any links aren’t working!

✨ – series

💫 – drabble/bullet-point aus

⭐  – fluff

💔 – angst

🌙 – triggers

Drabbles Masterlist

~ ~ ~

Tiktoker!Ateez | tiktoker!au | 💫, ⭐, 🌙

→ Just how I think Ateez would exist as tiktokers. /shrugs/

Pirate!Ateez | pirate!au | 💫, ⭐, 💔, 🌙

→ Inspired by the Kingdom Wonderland stage. [ Part 1 | Part 2 ]

Synesthesia (Color Game) | nonspecific!au | 💔, ⭐

→ From colors spring stories. [ Stray Kids version ]

Where the Elements Meet | elemental kingdom!au | 💔, ⭐, 🌙

→ In a world far from ours, there exist four kingdoms - of water, of fire, of earth, and of air.

Sword and Shield | rebel!au | ✨, ⭐, 💔, 🌙

→ “I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” - Lord of the Rings

.

Oceans Burn in Your Eyes | slice of life!au | 💫, ⭐

→ The comfort of the ocean waves couldn’t compare to the warmth of your touch. [ Sunwoo (The Boyz) version ]

Someday | rebel!au | ⭐

→ Hongjoong finds a spot of peace in a ruined world. [ Sword and Shield ]

HALA HALA | rebel!au | 💔, 🌙

→ Hongjoong encounters one of the dead. [ Sword and Shield ]

.

Purple Sky | slice of life!au | ⭐, 💔

→ Under a purple sky and a golden sun, Seonghwa reminds you what it feels like to not be alone. [ Sungyoon ver. ]

Meet Me Beneath the Waves | elemental kingdom!au | 💔, 🌙

→ It never occurred to you that love could be so near. [ Where the Elements Meet ]

Aurore | witch!au | ⭐, 💔, 🌙

→ Even at the crack of dawn, it isn’t hard to remember how much you love Seonghwa.

Inception | rebel!au | 💔, 🌙

In the wake of tragedy, you learn to cope. [ Sword and Shield ]

.

Like Clockwork | slice of life!au | 💔, ⭐, 🌙

→ On nights like these, Yunho makes it a little easier to breathe.

Treasure | rebel!au | 💔, ⭐, 🌙

→ Even in the midst of war, there are still treasures to be found amid the ashes.

.

Sunfall | angel!au | 💔, 🌙

→ An eye for an eye - this is what Yeosang has always lived by. It doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Fireworks | rebel!au | 💔, 🌙

Yeosang prays you’ll come back. [ Sword and Shield ]

.

Wonderland | rebel!au | 💔, 🌙

Together, you and San uncover the traitor in your midst. [ Sword and Shield ]

.

THANXX | rebel!au | 💔, 🌙

→ You and Mingi knew the risks. You only wish you never had to face them. [ Sword and Shield ]

.

You’re the Only One Who Matters | model!au | ⭐, 🌙

→ One night after a modeling shoot, Wooyoung makes a move. [ Golden Hour ]

Answer | rebel!au | 💔, 🌙

→ A year later, Wooyoung speaks to you. [ Sword and Shield ]

.

Black Cat Nero | rebel!au | 💔, 🌙

→ Jongho sounds the call to action. [ Sword and Shield ]

[peterspizzashirt]

Sword and Shield - m.list

A series of stories set in the world of a revolution, based loosely on eight of Ateez’s mvs :) happy third anniversary to Ateez, and here’s to many more years of making wonderful music!!

also this is my ten thousandth post on this blog god help me I’ve been here too long

Updates every two days beginning on October 26th, 2021 (specific post dates under each story)!

Genre: occasional fluff, angst, rebel!au

Triggers: death, cursing, guns, semi-graphic violence (specific triggers are listed beneath each story)

“I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” - Lord of the Rings

Ateez Masterlist

THANXX |MINGI|

You and Mingi knew the risks. You only wish you never had to face them.

bartender!Mingi x pianist/bartender!reader

triggers: guns, death

Post Date: October 26, 2021, 6 am EST

.

WONDERLAND |SAN|

Together, you and San uncover the traitor in your midst.

rebel spy!San x rebel spy!reader

triggers: guns, death, semi-graphic violence and blood

Post Date: October 28, 2021, 6 am EST

.

TREASURE |YUNHO|

Even in the midst of war, there are still treasures to be found amid the ashes.

rebel leader!Yunho x rebel nurse!reader

triggers: mentions of death

Post Date: October 30, 2021, 6 am EST

.

INCEPTION |SEONGHWA|

In the wake of tragedy, you learn to cope.

rebel leader!Seonghwa x rebel!reader

triggers: mentions of death, cursing

Post Date: November 1, 2021, 6 am EST

.

FIREWORKS |YEOSANG|

Yeosang prays you’ll come back.

pyrotechnic!Yeosang x rebel!reader

triggers: mentions of guns and death

Post Date: November 3, 2021, 6 am EST

.

BLACK CAT NERO |JONGHO|

Jongho sounds the call to action.

rebel!Jongho x rebel!reader

triggers: mentions of death

Post Date: November 5, 2021, 6 am EST

.

HALA HALA |HONGJOONG|

Hongjoong encounters one of the dead.

rebel leader!Hongjoong x rebel leader!reader

spinoff: Someday

triggers: guns, death, semi-graphic violence and blood

Post Date: November 7, 2021, 6 am EST

.

ANSWER |WOOYOUNG|

A year later, Wooyoung speaks to you.

rebel!Wooyoung x rebel!reader

triggers: mentions of guns, blood, death

Post Date: November 9, 2021, 6 am EST

[peterspizzashirt]

lights out.

neighbor!yunho

word count: 7k

angst, fluff

you had three requirements when searching for your first apartment: a good location, an all pets allowed policy and access to the rooftop.

it seemed a little unusual, that you’d really find the perfect place, all the other check marks and lovely amenities secured, and just say no because you weren’t able to escape to the roof. 

but it was a place you always found solace in. 

cold nights overlooking the city or warm, spring days in the sun - and when you first moved in a few months ago, overjoyed to check out your new daily view, you saw one of your other neighbors also had an affinity for the rooftop. 

Keep reading

[peterspizzashirt]

ateez masterlist

 seonghwa

[11:16 AM] + to build a home [angst]

Request: Hero/Villain AU [angst]

[7:57 PM] + royalty!au + “your reign must end here.” [Royalty AU, angst]

hongjoong

request: “911? Yes, I’d like to report a loser" [fluff]

[3:56 PM] + avatar: the last airbender au [angst, fluff]

[12:06 PM] + pirate!au +  “you really think you can steal from me and get away with it?” [Pirate AU, fluff, angst?]

yunho

[10:37 PM] + boxes [angst, fluff, cw: grieving]

Request: Hero/Villain AU  [angst]

[3:08 PM] + naruto/ninja au + “thank you, for everything.” [Naruto AU, angst]

yeosang

[1:10 AM] + I’m so in love with you [fluff]

[3:56 PM] + avatar: the last airbender au [angst, fluff]

san

[10:10 PM] + fruits [angst]

[7:41 PM] + toothbrush [angst]

request: something fluffy with san [fluff]

[7:37 PM] gender neutral + “see you losers later.” [heist AU, fluff]

[8:48 PM] + first love [pirate AU, angst]

[6:14 PM] + ex!san + “i don’t owe you shit.” [post-apocalyptic AU, angst]

mingi

Mafia AU

request: “mingi + mafia au + you shouldn’t have done that" [angst]

request: “mingi + mafia au + you shouldn’t have done that" PART 2 [angst]

[3:08 PM] + naruto/ninja au + “thank you, for everything.” [Naruto AU, angst]

wooyoung

the alliance: masterlist  - when wooyoung, yeosang, jongho, and seonghwa betrayed the ateez unit, your division of the hero-villain alliance, and joined the underground rogue organization, you truly believed nothing could be worse. a year after the Betrayal, wooyoung proves you terribly wrong. [angst, hero/villain au, completed]

[2:06 PM] + you’re leaving for something dangerous and I can’t help but kiss you [fluff]

[8:04 PM] + just for tonight [angst]

icarus AU + gender neutral [Icarus AU/coffeeshop AU, angst, fluff]

jongho

request: something soft and playful with jongho [fluff]

general/ot8:

hero/villain au headcanons

CURRENT STATUS: Open to new requests! No Sm*t please!

[peterspizzashirt]

[7:02 PM] + post apocalypse + ex!san + "so, why haven't we tossed them out yet?"

part 1 part 2

a/n: 3.8k, gender neutral reader, a little bit of blood, cussing, part 2/?

-

you should have ignored the screams. it was nearing sunset and you barely salvaged food, water, and another pack just days after you were robbed blind by your ex and his ragtag group. you had no business playing hero.

you tightened your grip on the knife san and his friends left you to free yourself. pride made you want to toss the knife, but you'd barely sawed yourself free of the ropes and made it into one of the abandoned houses. it was already dark when you'd finally barricaded yourself into a small closet, when the maniacal laughter had begun, and by then, you'd clutched the knife to your chest and knew, logically, tossing the thing would leave you defenseless. besides, you'd love to run into san or wooyoung or yunho and use the knife on them. it's the only thought that kept you sane when the scratching beyond the door grew louder and louder, only subsiding at the very end of the night.

yet, here you are, maybe an hour and a half from sunset, frozen with your back against a low stone wall, listening to incomprehensible shouts. unable to walk away. there's a desperation to the shouts that keep you rooted to your spot.

you spin on your heels, prepared to sprint away, but then you hear the person say, "i will not fucking leave you here. no, shut up. no, no, no i can't."

the pleading hurts your heart, makes it wither in your chest.

shit, shit, shit. it's all that runs through your mind as you swivel on your heels and turn the corner. you have no business getting involved, yet here you are.

there are two figures among the remains of what looks like a car accident with a flipped car and a broken street sign. thankfully the car isn't smoking, though it's wheels keep spinning as they face skyward. one of the figures is sprawled across the ground with their lower half trapped beneath a flipped car and the other one kneeling beside them, hands yanking at their hair, blood dripping from their hairline, clear as day even from your distance.

you're moving without thinking, without assessing much of anything, and you'd like to think you've perfect your silent walk, but you must have made some small noise, because the one with their hands in their hair jerks their head to the side, gaze landing on you. he's small, delicate, but still built. the muscles peeking from beneath his sleeves makes you nervous. the sharp lines of his face curl into a frown as he draws a knife, the steel glinting under the afternoon sunlight. the one trapped under the car cranes their neck at you before he frowns.

"don't take another fucking step," the man with the knife bites out, stepping in front of his friend, whose face glistens with sweat under the afternoon sun.

you lift both hands in the air in a placating manner.

"i just came to help. i swear."

the man sprawled out on the ground just stares at you, neck craned.

the man with the knife lets out a bitter laugh, "help? what makes you think we'd believe that?"

"look." you glare at him, shrugging your pack off your shoulder and letting it drop to the ground with a dull thud, allowing yourself to look smaller, more defenseless, "the sun's about to set and your shouting was annoying, so i thought i'd stop by and try to help. i don't need you attracting anything tonight and i don't want any of your stuff. besides, i know a few things about cars and accidents, in general, from before when i..." you trail off, unsure if it even matters what you did before all this. you barely remember what you did before all this. you bite your tongue and say, "from Before."

the man rolls his eyes, but the injured man's eyes widen and he reaches up with a shaky hand and tugs at the man with the knife's pant leg. the man crouches beside his friend immediately, though his knife remains raised and his eyes stay fixed on you. you can't hear what the injured man says, but it makes the knife man's shoulders slump just a bit.

you sigh, "we all know once the sun sets you're fucked. so, let me help."

you're not sure why you're so insistent. you figure you should give it one last chance before you head out without feeling guilty.

"fine," he glares at you, and you blink in surprise at how quickly he's given in. he eyes your pack, "just leave your stuff over there."

you shouldn't listen to his demands. besides, it took you entirely too long to replace your stolen supplies. but you listen. you leave your pack behind, secure only in the knowledge that wooyoung's stupid knife sits snug in your boot, and you cross the street quickly, ignoring the voice in your head telling you you're being an idiot.

the man with the knife is surprisingly pretty up close, his features sharp but almost delicate now that you're getting a better look at him. his eyes, however, hold your gaze with an intensity that has you looking away first. you can feel his gaze on you even when you look away first, and you know he's still gripping that knife, watching your every move. you shouldn't turn your back to him, shouldn't allow yourself to be so physically vulnerable, but apparently all logic had disappeared the moment you heard those screams.

you look down at his friend, and he stares up at you, unblinking but quiet. his fists remain clenched at his sides, his sharp nose scrunched in obvious pain, his face grey from obvious pain, and his brow glistening with sweat. your doubts disappear at the sight. you want to help him. there's a kindness in his eyes that reminds you of Before. maybe you're acting the hero to make yourself feel better, maybe it's something else, but you don't have time to unpack it.

not with one of the man's legs trapped beneath the flipped car. you feel better that it's not his entire lower half like you originally thought, but his leg looks like it is encompassed in the metal door frame. judging from the blood pooling beneath his leg, it's likely the crumpled metal is lodged inside his leg. the thought makes you nauseous for a moment, so you try not to think about it too much as you lean in and inspect the metal door frame. you try to lift it, but it doesn't move an inch. when he lets out a low, pained grown, your suspicions are confirmed. it's lodged in the man's thigh, though his leg is not encased. you notice a gap on the other side of the man's leg and you let out a small sigh of relief. you can work with that. you have to.

still, you look from the man trapped beneath the car to the pretty, angry man hovering over you, and cross your arms over your chest, "what the hell happened here?"

the pretty knife man rolls his eyes, "the car flipped. what else could it be?"

"of course." you glare back, "sorry i asked. stupid question."

"glad you're aware of that at least."

you probably should walk away, especially with his attitude, but his friend is clearly in severe pain, and there's genuine worry in the man with the knife's eyes, even if he's being incredibly abrasive.

you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet.

"wait, where - are you leaving?" the pretty, angry man grabs your elbow. you pause, glancing down at his hand before returning your gaze to his face. he drops his hand immediately.

you wonder if he expects you to declare his friend's situation a lost cause. his brows are furrowed, his expression impatient.

you glance from his curled fists to his friend's sweaty face, "i'm not going anywhere."

you don't comment on the small sigh of relief that leaves his lips.

"one of these cars should have a jack in the trunk or with a spare tire. if we can use it to lift the car up even a little bit, we can get him out."

the pretty, angry man nods before he starts moving.

you reach out and grab his elbow. he startles, yanking his hand from yours. you ignore his reaction - something tells you you have no right to judge his reactions when you've had no proper social interaction in months upon months. "just a warning - it's going to hurt. the metal is stuck in his leg."

the man with the knife takes a deep breath, nodding, his eyes darting over your shoulder. "it's our only option."

then he turns away and starts rummaging through an abandoned car a few feet away. you try the trunk of the flipped car. there's nothing there. not even a spare tire. you do find a bedsheet, which you yank out in case you need to wrap up his leg. after too many minutes of silence passes and the anxious voice in your head whispers that you're being an absolute idiot, especially with the way the sun has started to set and you're caring about a hurt stranger who would look the other way if they'd happened upon you in the same situation, that you won't find a thing and this man will have to lay here beneath the wreckage and wait for whatever horrid fate the night holds, the pretty, angry man reappears seemingly out of thin air weighed down by heavy duty car jack. he raises a brow at you in question.

"oh, thank fuck," you grin, waving him to his injured friend's other side so he can help you place it in the gap you'd found.

it works.

you expected it not to, and you can see it in the pretty, angry man's face that he expected the same, but the car creaks as it's cranked up, metal screeching. the squelching noise as metal is yanked from the man's leg echoes all around you, nearly making you gag. the man lets out a pained whimper, but the man with the knife places a hand over his chest and pats it rhythmically as you crank the jack. it takes too long, far too long, especially with the way the sky has turned a deeper orange all around you, but eventually the metal dislodges enough, blood dripping all over, and you and the pretty, angry man are able to drag him out from beneath the wreckage. blood trails along the pavement beneath him as you do.

you rip strips of the sheet and tie them tightly around his wound. you don't have time to even attempt to clean up his wound.

"you're doing great, mingi," the pretty, angry man says gently as you finish hastily wrapping his leg, "now let's get you out of here."

he tries to carry the tall man - mingi's - weight and you watch as he struggles to lift him from the ground. it would be amusing any other time. you reach forward and tug mingi's other arm over your shoulder. mingi doesn't say anything, though his breathing remains ragged. the man with the knife stares at you as if you've grown another head.

you say, "he's lost a lot of blood."

"no fucking shit."

you turn to scowl at him from under mingi's long arm, but the retort dies on your tongue when you see genuine fear in his eyes as he gazes at mingi.

your heart twists once more. you let out a loud sigh, "where do you need to go?"

his gaze snaps from mingi's to yours, eyes narrowing as he bites out, "why?"

you groan, readjusting mingi's weight on your shoulders, "stop being an asshole for five seconds and think. you can't carry him all the way home and the sun sets very soon. besides, why should i let my hard work and time go to waste like that? what's the point of helping you out of all that just to find you both dead in the morning?"

he only stares at you, ignoring your hypothetical questions. how he manages to appear intimidating and larger-than-life even with a long arm shoved up against his face is beyond you. the worst part, you think, is how he looks at you as if he can see right through your sarcastic tone.

"we don't have all day," you remind him with a huff.

he closes his eyes briefly before he says, "what do you want in return?"

past you would say nothing and leave it at that. but, current you says, "a place to stay for the night and enough food to last a week to take in the morning."

it's a case study in it's truest form, a testament to how the world has gone to shit and so have you.

there's another long moment of silence before he finally nods and says, "if we make it back in one piece, then i'll even give you some of the good shit. we have the good bread."

"oh god," you sigh wistfully at the thought, "you'd better."

he snorts.

~.~.~.~.~

a couple streets over, he'd said. normally it wouldn't take too long - your hideaway was around the same place, as well - but mingi weighs heavily on both your shoulders, his head lolling.

darkness is falling and your heart slams against your ribs. you're stupid. you're so fucking stupid for getting involved in something that has absolutely nothing to do with you.

"just up there," the angry, pretty man calls in between heavy gasps for air, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as he heaves mingi from slipping off his shoulders.

you can make out a shed type building up ahead, the front repurposed with heavy glinting doors. a bunker, you realize. you'd seen them on the news before the electricity went out.

"a little further." he calls, voice muffled.

you are so close. your feet move more quickly, especially since the sun is entirely too close to setting and you know you have just minutes before it goes away.

a chill runs down your spine. you're a few hundred steps from the door.

your brain screams at you to let go and run. to leave them behind, every cell in your body leaning solely towards your survival.

and you almost do, the sun is gone and it is unnaturally dark out, the night too black too soon, and when you look under mingi's arm, you meet the angry, pretty man's dark eyes. for a moment, everything still and you know he knows of the thoughts running through your head. he knows you want to run. you wonder if he'll fault you for it?

you almost run.

but mingi shifts underneath you, whimpering softly, and your heart twists up, your grip tightening on him.

then you decide against your survival instincts, yanking at his arm, dragging him up. his weight lessens when the pretty, angry man joins your side. he murmurs, in a deceptively calm voice, "up you go, mingi."

you hear screeches, clicking noises, but you keep your eyes focused on mingi and then the door, allowing the adrenaline to rush through you and give you one last boost of strength or luck or whatever you can possibly get your hands on so you don't have to think about the cold air whooshing over your head or the fucking clicking sounds that remind you of the alien movies. you'd resolved long ago that you never wanted to know what was roaming the streets at night. you'd witnessed enough the night your mother entered your apartment and tried to kill you. you don't think you could handle confirmation that there's something roaming the world that is even worse than that.

you tumble into the heavy metal bunker door, pain shooting up your shoulder, and it doesn't budge. fuck. you step back, hurling yourself at the door once more. but you don't hit metal this time. instead, you fall forward, ramming straight into cold tiled floors, nearly hitting your head in the process, dropping mingi as you go. you see stars as you groan, clutching your head and turning onto your back. you hear a loud grinding sound of metal on metal, until there's a resounding thud and a soft click.

then all goes quiet, aside from shuffling and indistinct muffled murmurs. you have no strength to even lift you head to look.

instead, you wonder if you've died.

you lay there, eyes closed, and try to catch your breath, try to lessen the ringing in your ears and the way your blood thrums from the adrenaline.

when the murmurs quiet down, you slowly open your eyes and -

"yeosang."

"get yunho - where's yunho? oh, fuck, yun -"

"yunho has mingi. it's all good. breathe."

you sit up at the familiar voice, eyes widening.

your eyes widen when you spot wooyoung in the dimly lit room, his hands pressed to the pretty, angry man's - yeosang's - shoulders as he calms him down.

"no fucking way," the words slip from your mouth before you can bite them back.

wooyoung turns to look at you.

you immediately drag the knife from your boot, unsheathing it.

wooyoung has the audacity to snort at you.

yeosang blinks between you both, his chest still heaving. "they helped me get mingi out of the wreck and back here. how...do you know each other?"

they're both unfazed by the knife in your hand, though you would be unfazed too if someone was pointing a knife at you and trembling as they did it. still, you brandish the knife, sitting up straighter.

wooyoung merely raises a brow, tone saccharine, ignoring yeosang's inquiries completely, "back for round two, y/n? you were even kind enough to bring back my knife."

"shut up."

yeosang looks between you and wooyoung. wooyoung only grins, gaze never leaving yours. it's unnerving, how easily he ignores the knife in your hand.

"y/n?"

the familiar voice makes you jump, whipping your head to the side. you bite your tongue so hard, you taste blood, and the knife whooshes through the air as you swing sideways, placing the knife between yourself and the familiar voice. between yourself and san.

san stands with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes flickering from yeosang and wooyoung to you, back and forth, back and forth.

your breath hitches in your throat when san rolls his eyes and says, "so, why haven't we tossed them out yet?"

he waves at you with a nonchalance that makes your insides churn.

your grip on the knife tightens, but your gaze doesn't move from san, even though he isn't even bothering to look at you.

wooyoung shrugs, and yeosang peers between you all, brows furrowed in confusion.

san sighs once more, in clear annoyance, before he steps forward. his footsteps resound all around you until he's hovering over you. he reaches down to grab your elbow. you hate how you can't even really use the knife on him. he easily plucks it from your hand and tosses it across the room. it lands at wooyoung and yeosang's feet. you struggle in his grip, but he just grits his teeth, eyes rolling as he drags you to your feet. you stumble before you yank your elbow from his grip. he lets you step away, but he looks at you with an unkind exasperation that makes your insides churn.

"don't touch me."

san crosses his arms over his chest, "then leave."

"it's," your fingers curl into fists at your side, "it's dark out."

"you didn't care about that years ago," san rolls his eyes, "so why the fuck should i care now?"

his fierce gaze dares you to respond, but your heart is lodged in your throat and your hands go limp at the reminder.

"we're not tossing them out." yeosang finally speaks out. you'd nearly forgotten he was even there in the first place. san keeps his fiery eyes on you as yeosang speaks, "i promised them a night here and some food in exchange for getting mingi back here safely. without them mingi and i would still be out there."

"oh really?" wooyoung pipes up, "i almost feel bad now."

"almost?" you frown at him.

wooyoung hums, though his gaze lingers between yeosang and san, who seem to be having a silent conversation, one you can't make heads or tails of.

finally, yeosang says, "we owe them that much, san."

san turns to you, his gaze flickering down your form. it lingers at your waist, and you follow his gaze. all you have is the useless radio clipped to your belt. you look up and you're startled by his expression, by the softening around his eyes and the soft sigh, by the way he steps back suddenly, no longer crowding your space, and drags his hands through his hair, a habit you remember he'd display whenever he was feeling guilty. he used to do it the few times after particularly bad fights and he actually apologized to you. it was few and far between but you used to treasure those moments.

"i guess yeosang's right. just," san turns away quickly, "don't get in anyone's way."

"speak for yourself. they can get in my way anytime," wooyoung interjects.

san throws a glare in wooyoung's direction, earning him a loud laugh that echoes all around them. san doesn't say anything, only swivels on his heels and stomps out the room.

wooyoung throws an arm over yeosang's shoulders, ignoring the way yeosang attempts to duck away. wooyoung only pulls him closer as he steps closer to you. the knife is in his hands, you notice, and you eye him warily.

wooyoung flips the knife, hilt in your direction, pointed end in his, and he says, "you can hold onto this."

you stare at the knife, "why?"

wooyoung lets yeosang go, leaning close, a playful grin dancing on his face. you lean away. "dunno. maybe you'll need it later."

the cryptic tone makes you grimace, "all i'm hearing is that i should use it on you."

"i'm not entirely opposed to that. though it depends entirely on the situation," his tone drips with suggestion. you grimace, but he adds a sly, "but i was thinking you'd use it on san."

"shut up."

he giggles, before his expression grows serious. it's so sudden you stare at him, anticipation curled at the pit of your stomach. "take it as a thanks, y/n. for yeosang and mingi."

"sure." you drag out the word, feeling awkward by the sudden sincerity. you glance at yeosang, who's only rolling his eyes at wooyoung and shoving his shoulder. you say, "but i'd rather you show me your thanks by giving me my stuff back."

wooyoung's serious expression crumbles into a loud, guffawing laugh. "nope," he says, in between his laughs, "you lost that fair and square. no take backs."

he slips away then before you can respond, leaving you with yeosang and a growing headache.

[peterspizzashirt]

[6:14 PM] + post-apocalypse + ex!san + “i don't owe you shit.”

part 1 part 2

a/n: 2k, a small description of violence, cussing, part 1/?

-

“get up.”

you freeze – not at the unfamiliar voice, but at the goosebumps rising along the nape of your neck and cool touch of steel against your skin.

“i said get up.” the person bites out, something hard digging into your side as they crowd up against you. a knee, you realize, your heart slamming against your ribcage. your thoughts are reeling, eyes sweeping your surroundings, searching for an escape, any way out, even as you lift your hands and slowly get to your feet.

the moment you do, your arms are yanked behind your back. they tie your wrists tight, the rope burning your skin. before you can even attempt to struggle against the restraints, you're knocked on your ass. you wince in pain, the cloth mask tied around the bottom half of your face slipping.

you glare up at the assailant. you cannot die now. not after everything.

a man – the same age as you from the looks of it – crouches in front of you. he is tan, handsome even, his jaw angled. there's a fire in his eyes that terrifies you more than the desolate ghost towns and toxic dust, more than the fog and the things circling the moon day and night. the fire is born of a strain of anger you don't want to be near any longer than you need to. from the way he pulled a fucking knife on you as if he’s done it a million times before, you're sure you should be more than just terrified.

the man tilts his head, examining you for so long, you resist the urge to squirm, glaring through your discomfort.

then the man leans his head back and whistles, a familiar tune you're sure is from Before, and you watch as two more men appear from behind the houses you thought were abandoned. you'd scouted it and everything. one of them is tall, but his face seems…too kind. it’s almost disconcerting, to see kindness when you've gone so long completely devoid of experiencing such a thing.

the other man stalks towards you, face all sharp angles and black hair overgrown. but even beneath those strands of hair, even beneath the dust mask hanging from his neck, even beneath the bags under his eyes and the sunkissed skin, you recognize him. why wouldn't you?

his eyes land on you and they widen a fraction of an inch.

your breath catches in your throat.

it's choi san. your ex.

of all the people from Before you could have possibly ran into, why the hell did it have to be him?

your voice catches in your throat, a mixture of fear and relief curling at the pit of your stomach. in a world where you haven't seen another person in months, seeing such a familiar voice feels surreal. but the world is no longer the way it used to be. besides, san and you did not end amicably. a lot has happened since then, but you remember the earth-shattering fights. the cheating. the biting, awful words. the names. the toxicity. the last time you saw him, when you'd tossed his stuff out the door and refused to let him in. you two ended terribly and though the details have blurred, you know you're now in a lawless world and neither of you are the same as you once were. he'd never gotten the chance to get the last word in, and you wonder if he'll make up for that now.

the little voice in your head, the anxious one that’s lived there all your life and has only gotten infinitely louder since the world went to shit, reminds you over and over that you are outnumbered and absolutely, one hundred percent fucked. you can only think of survival. your brain doesn't care that you know choi san. your brain reminds you that you don't really know him. not anymore. not after everything.

the man with the knife yanks your backpack towards him, pulling out the kimchi jar you'd dug up from one of the abandoned houses. he dumps your first aid kit and water canteen, as well, frowning, "is this all you got?"

your gaze remains on san. he doesn't say a word.

the man with the knife knocks his knee against the side of your head. you scowl at him.

he raises a brow, "i asked a question."

“i –” your voice cracks and you clear your throat, annoyed with yourself. the man raises his brows at you, tilting his head. your glare deepens. “is that not enough? want to take the clothes off my back, too? san?"

san blinks rapidly at his name. the man with the knife's smile grows wide, blinding, his gaze flickering from you to san.

the tall man frowns at san, "you know them?"

the man with the knife doesn't acknowledge your name drop. he merely raises a brow at you and asks, a lilt in his tone, "are you offering?”

san snaps, "wooyoung."

the man - wooyoung - only laughs, but there's a pointed sharpness to his tone that does not go unnoticed, "you didn't answer yunho's question."

wooyoung's stare is too intense as he looks between you and san.

san meets your gaze, and your stomach flips at the way he looks at you. for a moment, you're reminded of Before. then, his lips curl into a sneer, "i don't know them."

wooyoung lets out a loud, guffawing laugh. your fingers curl into fists. only the tall one - yunho - looks bothered, his brows furrowed together.

"san, what the fu-"

"i don't owe you shit, y/n." san cuts you off with a sharp tone and frustration grows at the pit of your stomach. this isn't fair.

you stare at san, incredulous, watching as yunho tosses the contents of your pack into your backpack and throws it over his shoulder.

wooyoung tosses your water canteen at you. it lands with a dull thud in front of your knees. he says, “you get to keep the clothes, too, y/n. consider yourself lucky.”

"are you seriously going to steal my shit and just leave me here? you're not even going to cut the fucking ropes?" a rage bubbles up in your chest that you haven't truly felt in a while.

the three of them pause. san pauses, and when he looks at you, you wonder if this is even the same san you used to know. maybe it's the san you knew at the end of your relationship. wooyoung looks at you as if he's merely humoring you more than anything. only yunho seems to listen to you.

san looks you in the eye and replies with a terse, "yeah.”

he says it like you're asking a stupid question. maybe it is stupid.

the anger grows, but with anger comes frustration and your eyes sting at the way san shrugs at you, uncaring. terrible.

“It’s going to be sunset soon, assholes.”

wooyoung blinks up at the sky and, for a moment, the amused smile on his face falters. he glances between yunho and san, a silent conversation you cannot make heads or tails of.

the beat of silence stretches on for far too long, your stomach churning. you don't want to beg them for anything, but the survival instinct in you starts to rear it's ugly head.

you look at san, and you don't want to plead. you'd plead with him plenty of times Before, and he'd let you down every time. why should this time be any different?

san turns away. the lump in your throat grows exponentially, to the point where you have to blink away tears. why did you expect anything else?

“you’re right.” wooyoung speaks up. you tear your gaze from san to wooyoung. he tosses his knife in your direction. it lands just out of reach, at your feet, with a loud clatter. your mind whirs through the logistics of sawing your way out of the ropes on your home. you stare at the knife before you turn your gaze on wooyoung. he tilts his head and winks, his smile lopsided and insolent, his tanned skin gleaming under the setting sun. "good luck."

you want to scream, especially as they walk away, disappearing around the corner, but the orange sky is beginning to darken and all you can do is bite your tongue and maneuver yourself so you can get a proper grip on wooyoung's stupid knife.

it isn’t fair.

~.~.~.~.~

it isn’t fair.

it’s the first thing you thought the day it started, fingers curled around the kitchen knife, knees drawn to your chest, apartment dark. blood coated the hallway floor, seeping in from the crack under your front door.

it isn’t fair.

the knife in your hand was slick with blood. a bloody handprint stained the doorknob. the handprint was yours, you knew this and it was somewhat grounding. you just didn’t want to think about it. it’s funny how you'd think that was an option for you though – you've always been the overthinking type.

you spent that night clutching your knees to your chest and thinking unfair this all was. just that night, nothing more, nothing less, and then you sprang into action, needing to move, do something.

it was how you dealt with most things - breakups, deaths, drifting friendships, your emotions. you liked to compartmentalize. it made things easier.

the phone lines were the first to go. the electricity had gone out quickly after that. still, you managed to catch the news before it had gone out – the reporters surrounded in bouts of sudden fog on live broadcast, the sky full of tiny floating…things – and then night fell.

you expected something else entirely. maybe something with tentacles like from the alien movies. but, instead, you got your mother prying open the door, smiling with pitch black eyes, strange hisses spilling from her lips.

instead you got a split second to react just as she shoved her way into the apartment and lunged for the kitchen knife. you had to grapple with her, your voice desperate even to your own ears when you pleaded for your mother to come to her senses. she didn’t. you never knew your survival instincts could be so…prevalent, until that moment. until you had to turn the knife on her, until the squelch of the knife driving through her flesh seared itself into every fiber of your being. for a moment, all that was left between you and your mother was silence, blissful, unaware. but then she thrashed once more and you shoved her out the door, locking it shut, and you watched blood seep into the apartment through the crack under the door. the same blood that coated your hands.

from then on, you were alone.

at least as alone as one could be with strange things hovering in the sky at all times of the day. but you were alone enough for it to seep into your bones, live there.

the radio helped for a while. you'd found it in your room - a gift from your first love, choi san, when things between you both was going well - and it kept you going in ways you knew san would have despised.

the disembodied voices reminded you that there were other survivors, and the radio discussions were soothing. it made everything less lonely, less unknown. you spent a lot of your free time - and you had too much of that now - trying to understand what the hell you were dealing with, and the radio reassured you that everyone else was trying, too.

one night, the network introduced three undeniable truths.

one, whatever those things in the sky were, that hung so close to the moon, floating in and out of the clouds, had to be the cause of all this.

two, there was something in the black fog and it wanted to kill you.

and, three, do not go outside at night. your mother had, and you ended up with her blood on your hands.

on your way out of the crowded cities, you encountered someone trying to break into the apartment you holed yourself up in. they banged on the walls while screaming at the top of their lungs, thud, thud, thud, all while you lay curled up in a rusty bathtub that smelled faintly of roses inside a tiny apartment, praying to whatever God was out there to keep you alive. please, please, please. it was the only thought running through your head as you clutched the radio to your chest.

as soon as the sun rose over the horizon, you packed your things and booked it out of the city, knowing damn well anywhere was safer than a city packed full of whatever the hell had possessed that person last night. blood streaked down the hall and fingernail scratches marked the door to the tiny apartment you had found refuge in that night, and you're sure another hour without the sun would have allowed the door to give out.

you had found an unintentional companion in the radio, until the radio died.

by the time you found batteries, all that was left was static. you couldn’t find any voices.

you tried for a full week, tuning the radio, but the comforting woman’s voice you hadn’t meant to grow attached to was gone and all that was left was white noise.

nothing but white noise.

in that moment, stood somewhere in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but dust and sun and emptiness, you realized that you were really, truly alone.

that night you cried, radio tucked in your hands. for your mother, your family, your friends, the world as you knew it. you cried and cried and you refused to look at the sky ever again.

still, you could not get yourself to toss the useless radio, instead clipping it to your belt loop.

[peterspizzashirt]

Part II

“mingi + mafia au + you shouldn’t have done that”

Read Part I

2.5k, lots of people asked for part 2 to this so here you go! warnings for angst and language! hongjoong is prominent here and also scary lol. thank you!! 

he said they would make an example out of you. mingi said it so easily, without a hint of remorse in his eyes.

so maybe that’s why they put a blindfold over your eyes and duck tape over your mouth, why they shoved you out of your apartment (you think by the one you knocked over the head since he seems to enjoy making you stumble blindly into walls the entire walk out of your building). your hands are sweaty and your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, on edge.

you hate the silence, it just puts you more on edge, your heart lodged in your throat. even as one of them shoved you into a car, not even bothering to set you upright as they drove to god-knows-where. you almost wish someone would have yelled at you, wish you didn’t have to lay on your side, unable to see or really breathe properly and think too many thoughts about mingi. you missed him and he was going to kill you, or worse, and you were terrified.

by the time the car came to halt, by the time you were dragged out the car (you’d stumbled, scraping your knees on asphalt before getting yanked up so hard, you thought they were trying to pull your arm out of its socket), by the time you’re shoved forward, knees buckling under you, by the time everything seemed to finally stop, you knew you had no more fight left in you. you were still angry, of course you were, but you also couldn’t stop thinking. a part of you didn’t want the blindfold to come off. you didn’t want to stare down the barrel of yet another gun, especially not if mingi was behind it.

but, the blindfold comes off.

Keep reading

[peterspizzashirt]

masterlists

- bts masterlist

- ateez masterlist

- stray kids masterlist

- series masterlists

- kinktober 2020 masterlist

- kinktober 2021 masterlist

standalone fics … all works are fem reader unless otherwise noted

as you wish; j. jaehyun x reader 18+

❧ genre: ceo!jaehyun, assistant!reader, smut 

❧ word count: 3544

❧ summary: maybe you and your boss don’t have the most professional relationship, but he’s so good at fucking you that you don’t think twice about it.

your warmth; n. yuta x reader (f)

❧ wc: 589➻ genre: fluff

❧ rating: sfw, pg

❧ summary: sometimes you just want to stay in yuta’s arms all day. 

shifting desires; j. jaehyun x reader x mark lee 18+

❧ wc: 3.2k

❧ genre: smut, pwp

❧ summary: jaehyun is bold but he’s never been this bold, especially not during a movie night with you and mark.

eyes on me; ten x reader 18+

❧ wc: 2k 

❧ genre: smut, pwp 

❧ summary: you aren’t normally so desperate for his attention, but today is different.

like you mean it; lucas x reader 18+

❧ wc: 3.5k

❧ genre: pwp, smut, fwb

❧ summary: you just want to get lucas to let go a little. him being in a bad mood isn’t helping in the slightest.

gifts; winwin x reader (f) 

❧ wc: 845

❧ genre: fluff, just wholesomeness, so soft n fluffy

❧ summary: in which your boyfriend just wants to spoil you

naughty; xiaojun x reader 18+

❧ wc: 2.0k

❧ genre: pwp, smut 

❧ summary: in short, your roommate is a hard man to resist.

These works are licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License

…

[peterspizzashirt]

20 + 41 with san, this time angst with a fluffy ending if that's possible ❤

san prompt

20. “Please say something.”

41. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

words: 896

warnings: angst, fluffy happy ending!

note: I usually write a page but I got too carried away and too in my feels for san 💀

summary: san refuses to talk to you about what’s bothering him. Maybe you can get him to open up with a little lovin ❤️

It hurt you to see him suffering alone. Something had been bothering San for a while but he would brush it off every time you tried to talk to him about it. No matter how you approached him, he would either shrug you off or completely change the subject. You wanted to help him and it wasn’t healthy for him to be bottling things up. He was always so positive and bouncy, seeing him like this really hung a rain cloud over the entire apartment.

You had thought giving him space would work but after a week of him still not coming to you to get whatever it was off his chest, you decided that you would try again to get through to him. “Please say something,” You begged, having blocked the only entrance out of the kitchen so he would have no were to run if he wanted to escape you. You had asked if he was okay and if he wanted to talk about anything which led to your current situation with you trapping him in a space and begging him to say something, anything.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” He replied, the hood of his back hoodie was pulled over his head to hide his messy hair. Knowing better than to take his answer personally, you took a couple steps closer to him. He looked like he hasn’t slept in a few days and you wanted to comfort him. To let him know that he wasn’t alone but you couldn’t do that if he kept pushing you away and closing up every time you walked into the same room he was sitting in.

You thought for a moment, going back through the past few days to remember if you were the one to cause him to be this way. You couldn’t think of a single reason why you would be the source of his state. “Did I do something?” You ask, unable to keep the hurt from seeping into your small voice. The only ounce of relief you felt was when he shook his head no and squeezed by you to exit the kitchen. So much for keeping him here until he opened up.

The rest of the day went by so slowly and you watched the clock tick by until it was time for you to go to bed. San had holed up in your shared room and kept the door closed. You didn’t want to disturb him and make him more upset then he was. But at this point, you were done tip-toeing around him and you needed to be firm when you tell him that you are always going to be the lighthouse in his storms and you will not be going anywhere until he is ready to come to you.

Once you reach the door, you knock softly to notify him of your entrance. The room was pitch dark with the curtains drawn and the only light coming in was from the hallway you stood in. You close the door behind you and quickly change and slip under the sheets next to him. His back was facing you and you just wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to your chest. The way his body instantly melted against you made a small smile form on your lips because he had been rejecting any kind of physical affection since he got stuck in this funk.

“I know you don’t want to talk and you don’t have to say a word, just listen,” You whisper into the quiet room. A deep shuddering breath in and a small sigh out was your only indication that he was awake and listening. San laid his hands over yours that were resting just under his chest and he gave them a squeeze so that you could continue. “I don’t know why, who, or what made you feel this way, but I want you to know that whenever you are ready, I’m here. I’m sorry if it felt like I was pressuring you to open up, I just want you to come back to me, the San that I love and who is a sunshine not only to everyone but to me especially.”

You hadn’t known he had started crying until you heard him sniffle and felt him bring a hand to rub away the tears. “I hate it,” He started, a hiccup interrupting him. “I hate always being the strong one. I help everyone pick up their broken pieces but on the days that I need help with my broken pieces, no one notices because I’m ‘the strong one’ and it sucks.”

“Oh, baby,” You murmured into his hair, kissing the side of his face once and then twice. “It’s okay to feel like that. You are strong and it’s okay to need help. You have me, the boys, and everyone else that loves you.”

He turned around in your embrace and you can’t see his face but you can feel him looking at you. He sniffles again and some tears land on your shoulder, rolling down your arm. You look at him in alarm through the darkness. “What’s wrong? Did something else happen?”

“No,” San is quick to wipe his cheeks and pull you to his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “I just really love you a lot.”