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roomsofangel · 7 months ago

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CHAPTER SEVEN

the act of holding on and letting go .ᐟ

wc 1.1k

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated!

chapter warnings metaphor of torture. hint/talk of depression and suicidal ideation without it fully being expressed outright. y/n learns their feelings were manipulated at one point.

other with the further we get into this — the more warnings that will be more prominent — the lore and y/n uncovering everything alongside the way they all handle / go about things aren’t exactly what a healthy person would immediately go towards. ( and maybe, that one line you read in a previous chapter that didn’t seem like much, was actually a key thing for a later time x )

other 2.0 bringing my forever first baby back! i tagged those who i can remember asking to be on the taglist but no hard feelings if you want to be removed! i just deeply missed this series and it’s nowhere near done so i want to bring it back to finish it! at the moment, the masterlist was taken down so i’m in the process of redoing it so its not linked! however, click here to be directed to my old blog and the intro for this work! it’s all my work, i just moved over when that blog got shadowbanned!

“you’re absolutely fucking insane if you think i’d just sit here after hearing the stunt he pulled—“

seonghwa’s pitch and tone could make any grown man cower into submission, tears swelled up in their eyes while asking if he wanted them to bleed on his shoes or in his hands, seonghwa stared ahead focusing on hongjoong who was only speechless — how could you run into the arms that put you in harms way?

well, if he looked at it through an outsider point of view, that’s what you did with seonghwa constantly.

something told hongjoong you didn’t go to san with seductive undertones, that just wasn’t you. in every life, you still held the same morals. it was something he knew would never change.

“why did they go?” seonghwa’s voice began to lower, softly raspy when his emotions began fully processing, allowing himself to sit on the armrest chair and put his head in his hands, pushing his hair out of his face that draped over his forehead, “was it my fault?”

hongjoong shook his head, “though, i really want to say it is,” he coughed, attempting to cover the laugh he wanted to let out because he knew it wasn’t a comedic matter. “has anyone seen them?” he changed the subject, his skin crawling with unease after noticing the suffocating silence with himself and seonghwa in his living room

“besides san?” seonghwa sneered, fixing his posture before standing, dusting off imaginary dirt from his clothes, “i have to pay a visit to cupid,” he scoffed

hongjoong followed alongside, “something tells me this isn’t a usual business call,” he amused while catching up with seonghwa’s pace who made his way to the door, swiftly grabbing his car keys that hung from the wall storage hooks, “san knows all about those.”

seonghwa stopped for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to shake his head, though, his small peeking smile showed he found the reference amusing — opening the door, he swallowed his nerves.

he wanted to trust you. but how could he when you were surrounded by people he didn’t?

‎

the room was cold, goosebumps illuminating each part of your skin that was more exposed than the other — you curled up on the couch with a heavy weighted blanket and a mug of hot chocolate — wooyoung only seemed to have a sweet taste, everything he owned in the food department was a major hint at his severe sweet tooth

you learned wooyoung was the god of love — though, most humans knew him as cupid despite some not fully believing on his reliability and existence, he seemed warm and inviting. he made sure you changed clothes and let you keep the dagger you swiped, clutched next to you.

it didn’t make sense that wooyoung was considered an enemy.

recalling san saying he met wooyoung however, had alarms going off in your head — what was his involvement? san never elaborated on the so called help.

but it was enough for him to be punished. how did you die the first time?

“if you keep frowning like that you’ll have wrinkles,” wooyoung prompted, taking a seat across from you with a strawberry cupcake in his hand, “at least, that’s what humans say — i never had any.”

you scoffed, biting back your laugh, “how lucky you must be.”

he nodded, smiling, “i mean, yn, i’m stuck as twenty three forever,” he kept a light hearted tone and facade, but you saw through it.

his eyes screamed of something you could recall as despair — desperate for an ending, he was tired. anyone with two eyes that struggled with choosing if they should stay or go, could see he was holding on by a thread.

because right now, wooyoung may have had the brightest smile — but you saw he also had the most saddest eyes.

“how did you get involved in this?” you asked, tone soft — you hoped you didn’t overstep a boundary, but wooyoung looked back at you with understanding

clearing his throat, “san told you he came to me, didn’t he?” he amused

you nodded in response.

“it was inevitable really, if san didn’t drag me in, one of the others would’ve,” he sighed, cleaning his fingers with his lips and tongue from the frosting excess of the cupcake he finished, “i felt bad for him, he was desperate for love and specifically from you.”

frowning, heart swelling, you knew if you were going to get the full story, you had to get your hands dirty and go to those who were all involved

it wasn’t smart in a sense — but with everyone telling different sides and their point of views, it was your job to pin point the consistency and bring it altogether.

for your final life.

‎‎

‎

“seonghwa is looking for you,” wooyoung mentioned, helping you wash the dishes — his eyes glancing to the side you resided, wet rag in hand focusing on the mug you drank from, “i can feel he’ll be here soon,” he frowned

“with hongjoong.”

your eyes lifted, attention gained fully, “do you know how long it’ll be?”

wooyoung shook his head, “i just wanted to tell you, give a heads up,” he pressed his lips together

you could see he was holding back, the same expression of wanting to say more than he was — was evident — you understood it all too well, that was your constant default.

words left unsaid.

“tell me what you want to, wooyoung,” you turned to face him

defeated, he smiled, “you made me feel human today, y/n,” his cheeks flushed and he looked away from you, “domestic even,” he teased which earned a small laugh from you

“i don’t know if i like it yet, but it’s not a bad feeling,” he briefed, finishing the last dish, “i just… want this with someone in particular..”

now this.

this was something you didn’t expect to hear.

“is it okay if i ask who?”

wooyoung laughed, “just as nosy as me, huh?” teasing, he cleared his throat and the amusement he held faded, recognizing the one thing you noticed, wanting the one thing you could never have.

“it’ll never happen, he’s been chasing after the same person for centuries,” he shook his head, “i can be blamed though.”

“i always helped him.”

then it made sense.

if wooyoung helped someone else, you weren’t aware of such — but something told you, whoever you thought of — was that person.

“why stay?” you asked

wooyoung contemplated on admitting it, tears swelling in his eyes before he whispered, “anything is better than being alone again, y/n.”

‎

you sat outside the porch, the talk with wooyoung left the two of you with overwhelming emotions — they weren’t directed at each other, but towards the confession and why wooyoung even got involved.

giving him time to adjust himself, you let wooyoung shower while you stared up at the full moon that shined down on you, appearing to slowly fade— nostalgic, you smiled.

you don’t know how long you had been staying with wooyoung, assuming half a night — at least, until the sunrise.

swallowing your nerves, you attempted to gather the information you received.

san didn’t give you an exact timeline but something told you he knew — you’d gather that later.

hongjoong and you had already been best friends — every life.

seonghwa was never meant to be your lover but somehow always made it happen.

and wooyoung helped san with you.

your expressions showed your progress and you couldn’t help but audibly gasp, “that fucking asshole.”

my yn never let a man control them.

“what a hypocrite you are, choi san,” you bitterly whispered under your breath

before you could stand and let wooyoung know you should be heading out soon, your nose twitched and felt a hand wrap around your wrist to pull you back

“yn, you have explaining to do.”

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staytinys · 2 years ago

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Fic Rec List | Navigation

ATEEZ

Be The Light by @hoonieversed (will be a mini series)

Lavender Blood by @mothworked | God of Death!Seonghwa

Anything by @songmingisthighs

Anything by @feltednettles (Lavender Haze is the current Mingi x reader fic I’m obsessed with)

Seeing Myself in You by @hanniiesuckle17 | Yunho x reader

Yuck by @snowy-hwa | Yunho x reader

Sweeter Than Candy @hwalyn | Yeosang x reader

Coffee House Diaries by @escapewriter | OT8 x reader

No Rose Without A Thorn by @februaryflowers

Anything by @hwaightme

Specifically the Your Fan Series by @hwaightme, just read San’s. Jongho’s is fantastic.

ATEEZ as romantic tropes by @ateezreactionsandscenarios

Letters from Park Seonghwa by @februaryflowers

Fic Rec list by @etrnlsanshine (placing till I can read thru them)

TXT

WHO’S THAT GIRL! by @h00nerz | Beomgyu x Reader

Copyccino by @fairybinie | Soobin x Reader (so much drama, so worth it)

ATTENTION by @lunaavity | beomgyu x reader

iGIRL by @catubatu | poly!OT5

Balance Game by @yeonjunszn | Beomgyu x reader

Lollipop by @choinsaw | Soobin x reader

Spike That! by @yeppeudau | Kai x Reader

Starstruck by @starry-paris | yeonjun x reader

Masterlist by @qqtxt | the comfort ones… I cry

Endearing by @qqtxt | Beomgyu

Ring My Alarm by @iichaeyj

Fic Rec List by @etrnlsanshine (placing till I can read through)

SEVENTEEN

When Our Paths Cross Again by @yvnjin-s | Jeonghan x reader

SVT Hospital series by @taeyegu | currently working on the 96 line. It’s so good

Anything by @sungbeam (just found them, could write for other groups too)

To Catch His Heart by @jihoonotes | Jihoon | such an interesting concept and I cant wait to see where it goes!!

Anything by @holdinbacksecrets | seventeen as your neighbors sold me

STRAY KIDS

Watercolor by @jinhyun | Hyunjin x Reader

Charmer by @sungbeam | Felix x reader

Fic Rec List from @etrnlsanshine (placing here until I can go and read through them)

#remi.navi #remi’s recs #txt smau #ateez smau #seventeen smau #stray kids smau #seventeen #txt #stray kids #ateez

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rhetoricandlogic · 6 years ago

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Foxfire, Foxfire By Yoon Ha Lee

Issue #194 - Science-Fantasy Month 3

, March 3, 2016

AUDIO PODCAST

EBOOK

(Finalist, WSFA Small Press Award, 2017)

If I’d listened to the tiger-sage’s warning all those years ago, I wouldn’t be trapped in the city of Samdae during the evacuation. Old buildings and new had suffered during the artillery battle, and I could hear the occasional wailing of sirens. Even at this hour, families led hunched grandmothers and grandfathers away from their old homes, or searched abandoned homes in the hopes of finding small treasures: salt, rags, dried peppers. As I picked my way through the streets tonight, I saw the flower-shaped roof tiles for which Samdae was known, broken and scattered beneath my feet. Faraway, blued by distance, lights guttered from those skyscrapers still standing, dating to the peninsula’s push to modernization. It had not done anything to prevent the civil war.

I had weighed the merits of tonight’s hunt. Better to return to fox-form, surely, and slip back to the countryside; abandon the purpose that had brought me to Samdae all those years ago. But I only needed one more kill to become fully human. And I didn’t want to off some struggling shopkeeper or midwife. For one thing, I had no grudge against them. For another, I had no need of their particular skills.

No; I wandered the Lantern District in search of a soldier. Soldiers were easy enough to find, but I wanted a nice strapping specimen. At the moment I was posing as a prostitute, the only part of this whole affair my mother would have approved of. Certain human professions were better-suited to foxes than others, she had liked to say. My mother had always been an old-fashioned fox.

“Baekdo,” she had said when I was young, “why can’t you be satisfied with chickens and mice? You think you’ll be able to stop with sweet bean cakes, but the next thing you know, it will be shrimp crackers and chocolate-dipped biscuits, and after that you’ll take off your beautiful fur to walk around in things with buttons and pockets and rubber soles. And then one of the humans will fall in love with you and discover your secret, and you’ll end up like your Great-Aunt Seonghwa, as a bunch of oracle bones in some shaman’s purse.”

Foxes are just as bad at listening to their mothers as humans are. My mother had died before the war broke out. I had brought her no funeral-offerings. My relatives would have been shocked by that idea, and my mother, a traditionalist, would have wanted to be left to the carrion-eaters.

I had loved the Lantern District for a long time. I had taken my first kill there, a lucky one really. I’d crept into a courtesan’s apartment, half-drunk on the smells of quince tea and lilac perfume. At the time I had no way of telling a beautiful human from an ugly one—I later learned that she had been a celebrated beauty—but her layered red and orange silks had reminded me of autumn in the forest.

Tonight I wore that courtesan’s visage. Samdae’s remaining soldiers grew bolder and bolder with the breakdown in local government, so only those very desperate or stubborn continued to ply their trade. I wasn’t worried on my own behalf, of course. After ninety-nine kills, I knew how to take care of myself.

There. I spotted a promising prospect lingering at the corner, chatting up a cigarette-seller. He was tall, not too old, with a good physique. He was in uniform, with the red armband that indicated that he supported the revolutionaries. Small surprise; everyone who remained in Samdae made a show of supporting the revolutionaries. Many of the loyalists had fled overseas, hoping to raise support from the foreign powers. I wished them luck. The loyalists were themselves divided between those who supported the queen’s old line and those who wished to install a parliament in place of the Abalone Throne. Fascinating, but not my concern tonight.

I was sauntering toward the delicious-looking soldier when I heard the cataphract’s footsteps. A Jangmi 2-7, judging from the characteristic whine of the servos. Even if I hadn’t heard it coming—and who couldn’t?—the stirring of the small gods of earth and stone would have alerted me to its approach. They muttered distractingly. My ears would have flattened against my skull if they could have.

Superstitious people called the cataphracts ogres, because of their enormous bipedal frames. Some patriots disliked them because they had to be imported from overseas. Our nation didn’t have the ability to manufacture them, a secret that the foreigners guarded jealously.

This one was crashing through the street. People fled. No one wanted to be around if a firefight broke out, especially with the armaments a typical cataphract was equipped with. It was five times taller than a human, with a stride that would have cratered the street with every step, all that mass crashing down onto surprisingly little feet if not for the bargains the manufacturers had made with the small gods of earth and stone.

What was a lone cataphract doing in this part of the city? A scout? A deserter? But what deserter in their right mind would bring something as easy to track as a cataphract with them?

Not my business. Alas, my delicious-looking soldier had vanished along with everyone else. And my bones were starting to hurt in the particular way that indicated that I had sustained human-shape too long.

On the other hand, while the cataphract’s great strides made it faster than I was in this shape, distances had a way of accommodating themselves to a fox’s desires. A dangerous idea took shape in my head. Why settle for a common soldier when I could have a cataphract pilot, one of the elites?

I ducked around a corner into the mouth of an alley, then kicked off my slippers, the only part of my dress that weren’t spun from fox-magic. (Magical garments never lasted beyond a seduction. My mother had remarked that this was the fate of all human clothes anyway.) I loved those slippers, which I had purloined from a rich merchant’s daughter, and it pained me to leave them behind. But I could get another pair of slippers later.

Anyone watching the transformation would only have seen a blaze of coalescing red, like fire and frost swirled together, before my bones resettled into their native shape. Their ache eased. The night-smells of the city sharpened: alcohol, smoke, piss, the occasional odd whiff of stew. I turned around nine times—nine is a number sacred to foxes—and ran through the city’s mazed streets.

The Lantern District receded behind me. I emerged amid rubble and the stink of explosive residue. The riots earlier in the year had not treated the Butterfly District kindly. The wealthier families had lived here. Looters had made short work of their possessions. I had taken advantage of the chaos as well, squirreling away everything from medicines to salt in small caches; after all, once I became human, I would need provisions for the journey to one of the safer cities to the south.

It didn’t take long to locate the cataphract. Its pilot had parked it next to a statue, hunched down as if that would make it less conspicuous. Up close, I now saw why the pilot had fled—whatever it was they were fleeing. Despite the cataphract’s menacing form, its left arm dangled oddly. It looked like someone had shot up the autocannon, and the cataphract’s armor was decorated by blast marks. While I was no expert, I was amazed the thing still functioned.

The statue, one of the few treasures of the district to escape damage, depicted a courtesan who had killed an invading general a few centuries ago by clasping her arms around him and jumping off a cliff with him. My mother had remarked that if the courtesan had had proper teeth, she could have torn out the general’s throat and lived for her trouble. Fox patriotism was not much impressed by martyrs. I liked the story, though.

I crouched in the shadows, sniffing the air. The metal reek of the cataphract overpowered everything. The small gods of earth and stone shifted and rumbled. Still, I detected blood, and sweat, as well as the particular unappetizing smell of what the humans called Brick Rations, because they were about as digestible. Human blood, human sweat, human food.

A smarter fox would have left the situation alone. While dodging the cataphract would be easy, cataphract pilots carried sidearms. For all I knew, this one would welcome fox soup as an alternative to Brick Rations.

While cataphract-piloting didn’t strike me as a particularly useful skill, the pilots were all trained in the more ordinary arts of soldiering. Good enough for me.

I drew in my breath and took on human-shape. The small gods hissed their laughter. This time, when the pain receded, I was wrapped in a dress of green silk and a lavender sash embroidered with peonies. My hair was piled atop my head and held in place by heavy hairpins. The whole getup would have looked fashionable four generations ago, which I knew not because I had been alive then (although foxes could be long-lived when they chose) but because I used to amuse myself looking through Great-Aunt Seonghwa’s collection of books on the history of fashion.

I’d hoped for something more practical, but my control of the magic had slipped. I would have to make the best of it. A pity the magic had not provided me with shoes, even ugly ones. I thought of the slippers I had discarded, and I sighed.

Carefully, I stepped through the street, pulse beating more rapidly as I contemplated my prey. A pebble dug into my foot, but I paid it no heed. I had endured worse, and my blood was up.

Even in human-shape, I had an excellent sense of smell. I had no difficulty tracking the pilot. Only one; I wondered what had happened to her copilot. The pilot lay on her side in the lee of a chunk of rubble, apparently asleep. The remains of a Brick Ration’s wrapper had been tossed to the side. She had downed all of it, which impressed me. But then, I’d heard that piloting was hungry work.

I crouched and contemplated the pilot, taut with anticipation. At this distance, she reeked worse than her machine. She had taken off her helmet, which she hugged to her chest. Her black hair, cropped close, was mussed and stringy, and the bones of her face stood out too prominently beneath the sweat-streaked, dirty skin.

She’d also taken off her suit, for which I didn’t blame her. Cataphracts built up heat—the gods of fire, being fickle, did an indifferent job of masking their infrared signatures—and the suits were designed to cool the pilot, not to act as armor or protect them against the chilly autumn winds. She’d wrapped a thermal blanket around herself. I eyed it critically: effective, but ugly.

No matter what shape I took, I had a weapon; there is no such thing as an unarmed fox. I wondered what the magic had provided me with today. I could feel the weight of a knife hanging from my inner sash, and I reached in to draw it out. The elaborate gilt handle and the tassel hanging from the pommel pleased me, although what really mattered was the blade.

I leaned down to slit the pilot’s throat—except her eyes opened and she rolled, casting the helmet aside. I scrambled backwards, but her reflexes were faster, a novelty. She grabbed my wrist, knocking the knife out of my hand with a clatter, and forced me down.

“Well-dressed for a looter,” the pilot said into my ear. “But then, I suppose that goes with the territory.”

I had no interest in being lectured before my inevitable addition to a makeshift stewpot. I released human-shape in a flutter of evanescent silks, hoping to wriggle out of her grip.

No such luck. Almost as if she’d anticipated the change, she closed her hands around my neck. I snapped and clawed, to no effect. I had to get free before she choked the life out of me.

“Gumiho,” the pilot breathed. Nine-tailed fox. “I thought all your kind were gone.”

My attempt at a growl came out as a sad wheeze.

“Sorry, fox,” the pilot said, not sounding sorry in the least.

I scrabbled wildly at the air, only half paying attention to her words.

“But I bet you can speak,” she went on as I choked out a whine. “Which means you’re just as likely to snitch to my pursuers as something fully human.”

She was saying something more about her pursuers, still in that cheerful conversational voice, when I finally passed out.

I woke trussed up as neatly as a rabbit for the pot. The air was full of the strange curdled-sweet smell of coolant, the metal reek of cataphract, the pilot’s particular stink. My throat hurt and my legs ached, but at least I wasn’t dead.

I opened my eyes and looked around at the inside of the cockpit. The blinking lights and hectic status graphs meant nothing to me. I wished I’d eaten an engineer along the way, even though the control systems were undoubtedly different for different cataphract models. I’d been tied to the copilot’s seat. Cataphracts could be piloted solo if necessary, but I still wondered if the copilot had died in battle, or deserted, or something else entirely.

The cockpit was uncomfortably warm. I worked my jaw but couldn’t get a good purchase on the bindings. Worse, I’d lost the knife. If I couldn’t use my teeth to get out of this fix—

“Awake?” the pilot said. “Sorry about that, but I’ve heard stories of your kind.”

Great, I had to get a victim who had paid attention to grandmothers’-tales of fox spirits. Except now, I supposed, I was the victim. I stared into the pilot’s dark eyes.

“Don’t give me that,” the pilot said. “I know you understand me, and I know you can speak.”

Not with my muzzle tied shut, I can’t, I thought.

As if she’d heard me, she leaned over and sawed through the bonds on my muzzle with a combat knife. I snapped at the knife, which was stupid of me. It sliced my gums. The familiar tang of blood filled my mouth.

“You may as well call me Jong,” the pilot said. “It’s not my real name, but my mother used to call me that, after the child and the bell in the old story. What shall I call you?”

I had no idea what story she was talking about. However, given the number of folktales living in small crannies of the peninsula, this wasn’t surprising. “I’m a fox,” I said. “Do you need a name for me beyond that?” It wasn’t as though we planned on becoming friends.

Jong strapped herself in properly. “Well, you should be grateful you’re tied in good and tight,” she said as she manipulated the controls: here a lever, there a button, provoking balletic changes in the lights. “The straps weren’t designed with a fox in mind. I’d hate for you to get splattered all over the cockpit when we make a run for it.”

“So kind of you,” I said dryly. Sorry, I thought to my mother’s ghost. I should have listened to you all those years ago. Still, Jong hadn’t eaten me yet, so there was hope.

“Oh, kindness has nothing to do with it.” The cataphract straightened with a hiss of servos. “I can’t talk to the gods of mountain and forest, but I bet you can. It’s in all the stories. And the mountains are where I have to go if I’m going to escape.”

Silly me. I would have assumed that a cataphract pilot would be some technocrat who’d disdain the old folktales. I had to go after one who knew enough of the lore to be dangerous. “Something could be arranged, yes,” I said. Even as a kit my mother had warned me against trusting too much in gods of any kind, but Jong didn’t need to know that.

“We’ll work it out as we go,” she said distantly. She wasn’t looking at me anymore.

I considered worrying at the bonds with my teeth, even though the synthetic fibers would taste foul, but just then the cataphract shuddered awake and took a step. I choked back a yip. Jong’s eyes had an eerie golden sheen that lit up their normal brown; side-effect of the neural interface, I’d heard, but I’d never seen the effect up close before. If I disrupted the connection now, who knew what would happen? I wasn’t so desperate that I wanted the cataphract to crash into uselessness, leaving me tied up inside it while unknown hostiles hunted us. Inwardly, I cursed Jong for getting me involved; cursed myself for getting too ambitious. But recriminations wouldn’t help now.

For the first hour, I stayed silent, observing Jong in the hopes of learning the secrets of the cataphract’s operation the old-fashioned way. Unfortunately, the closest thing to a cataphract pilot I’d ever eaten had been a radio operator. Not good enough. No wonder Great-Aunt Seonghwa had emphasized the value of a proper education, even if I had dismissed her words at the time. (One of her first victims had been a university student, albeit one studying classical literature rather than engineering. Back then, you could get a comfortable government post by reciting maxims from The Twenty-Three Principles of Virtuous Administration and tossing off the occasional moon-poem.) The ability to instantly absorb someone’s skills by ingesting their liver had made me lazy.

“Why are they after you?” I asked, on the grounds that the more information I could extract from Jong, the better. “And who are they, anyway?”

She adjusted a dial; one of the monitors showed a mass of shapes like tangled thread. “Why are they after anyone?”

Not stupid enough to tell a stranger, then. I couldn’t fault her. “How do I know you won’t use me, then shoot me?”

“You don’t. But I’ll let you go after I get away.”

Unsatisfying, as responses went. “Assuming you get away.”

“I have to.” For the first time, Jong’s cheerfulness faltered.

“Maybe we can bargain,” I said.

Jong didn’t respond for a while, but we’d entered a defile and she was presumably caught up making sure we didn’t tumble over some ledge and into the stony depths. I had difficulty interpreting what I saw. For one thing, I wasn’t used to a vantage point this high up. For another, I couldn’t navigate by scent from within the cockpit, although I was already starting to become inured to the mixed smells of grubby human and metal.

“What bargain can you offer?” Jong said when she’d parked us in a cranny just deep enough in the defile that the cataphract wouldn’t be obvious except from straight above.

I wondered if we had aerial pursuit to worry about as well. Surely I’d hear any helicopters, now that the cataphract had powered down? I knew better than to rely on the small gods of wind and storm for warning; they were almost as fickle as fire.

Jong’s breathing became unsteady as she squinted at a scatterfall of glowing dots. She swore under her breath in one of the country dialects that I could understand only with difficulty. “We’ll have to hope that they’re spreading themselves too thin to figure out which way we’ve gone,” she said in a low voice, as though people could hear her from inside the cockpit. “We’ll continue once I’m sure I can move without lighting up their scanners.”

Carefully, I said, “What if I swear on the spirits of my ancestors to lead you where you need to go, with the aid of the small gods to mask your infrared signature?” This was a guess on my part, but she didn’t correct me, so I assumed it was close enough. “Will you unbind me, at least?”

“I didn’t think foxes worshiped ancestors,” Jong said, eyeing me skeptically. She fished a Brick Ration out of a compartment and unwrapped it with quick, efficient motions.

My mouth watered despite the awful smell. I hadn’t eaten in a while. “Foxes are foxes, not gods,” I said. “What good is worship to a fox? But I remember how my mother cared for me, and my other relatives. Their memory means a lot to me.”

Jong was already shaking her head. A crumb of the Brick Ration fell onto her knee. She picked it up, regarded it contemplatively, then popped it into her mouth.

A ration only questionably formulated to sustain humans probably wouldn’t do me much good in fox-form, but it was difficult not to resent my captor for not sharing, irrational as the sentiment was.

“I need a real guarantee that you’ll be helpful, not a fox-guarantee,” Jong said.

“That’s difficult, considering that I’m a fox.”

“I don’t think so.” Jong smiled, teeth gleaming oddly in the cockpit’s deadened lights. Her face resembled a war-mask from the old days of the Abalone Throne. “Swear on the blood of the tiger-sages.”

My heart stuttered within me. “There are no tiger-sages left,” I said. It might even have been true.

Jong’s smile widened. “I’ll take that chance.”

When I was a young fox, almost adult, and therefore old enough to get into the bad kind of trouble, my mother took me to visit a tiger-sage.

Until then, I had thought all the tiger-sages had left the peninsula. Sometimes the humans had hunted them, and more rarely they sought the tigers’ advice, although a tiger’s advice always has a bite in it. I’d once heard of hunters bringing down an older tiger in a nearby village, and I’d asked my mother if that had been a sage. She had only snorted and said that a real sage wouldn’t go down so easily.

Tiger-sages could die. That much I knew. But their deaths had nothing to do with shotguns or nets or poisoned ox carcasses. A tiger-sage had to be slain with a sword set with mirror-jewels or arrows fletched with feathers stolen from nesting firebirds. A tiger-sage had to be sung to death in a game of riddles during typhoon season, or tricked into sleep after a long game of baduk—the famously subtle strategy game played upon a board of nineteen-by-nineteen intersecting lines, with black stones and white. A tiger-sage had to consent to perish.

We traveled for days, because even a fox’s ability to slice through distance dwindled before a tiger-sage’s defenses. My mother was nervous than I’d ever seen her. I, too stupid to know better, was excited by the excursion.

At last we approached the tiger-sage’s cave, high upon a mountain, where the trees grew sideways and small bright flowers flourished in the thin soil. Everything smelled hard and sharp, as though we lingered dangerously close to the boundary between always and never. The cave had once served as a shrine for some human sage. A gilded statue dominated the mouth of the cave, lovingly polished. It depicted a woman sitting cross-legged, one palm held out and cupping a massive pearl, the other resting on her knee. The skull of some massive tusked beast rested next to the statue. The yellowing bone had been scored by claw-marks.

The tiger-sage emerged from the cave slowly, sinuously, like smoke from a hidden fire. Her fur was chilly white except for the night-black stripes. She was supposed to be the last of the tiger-sages. One by one they had departed for other lands, or so the fox-stories went. Whether this one remained out of stubbornness, or amusement at human antics, or sheer apathy, my mother hadn’t been able to say. It didn’t matter. It was not for a fox to understand the motivations of a sage.

“Foxes,” the tiger rumbled, her amber eyes regarding us with disinterest. “It is too bad you are no good for oracle bones. Fox bones always lie. The least you could have done was bring some incense. I ran out of the good stuff two months ago.”

My mother’s ears twitched, but she said only, “Venerable sage, I am here to beg your counsel on my son’s behalf.”

I crouched and tried to look appropriately humble, having never heard my mother speak like this before.

The tiger yawned hugely. “You’ve been spending too much time with humans if you’re trying to fit all those flowery words in your mouth. Just say it straight out.”

Normally my mother would have said something deprecating—I’d grown up listening to her arguing with Great-Aunt Seonghwa about the benefits of human culture—but she had other things on her mind. That, or the tiger’s impressive display of sharp teeth reminded her that to a tiger, everything is prey. “My son hungers after human-shape,” my mother said. “I have tried to persuade him otherwise, but a mother’s words only go so far. Perhaps you would be willing to give him some guidance?”

The tiger caught my eye and smiled tiger-fashion. I had a moment to wonder how many bites it would take for me to end up in her belly. She reared up, or perhaps it was that she straightened. For several stinging moments, I could not focus my vision on her, as though her entire outline was evanescing.

Then a woman stood where the tiger had been, or something like a woman, except for the amber eyes and the sharp-toothed smile. Her hair was black frosted with white and silver. Robes of silk flowed from her shoulders, layered in mountain colors: dawn-pink and ice-white and pale-gray with a sash of deepest green. At the time I did not yet understand beauty. Years later, remembering, I would realize that she had mimicked the form of the last legitimate queen. (Tigers have never been known for modesty.)

“How much do you know of the traditional bargain, little fox?” the tiger-woman asked. Her voice was very little changed.

I did not like being called little, but I had enough sense not to pick a fight with a tiger over one petty adjective. Especially since the tiger was, in any shape, larger than I was. “I have to kill one hundred humans to become human,” I said. “I understand the risk.”

The tiger-woman made an impatient noise. “I should have known better than to expect enlightenment from a fox.”

My mother held her peace.

“People say I am the last of the tiger-sages,” the tiger-woman said. “Do you know why?”

“I had thought you were all gone,” I said, since I saw no reason not to be honest. “Areyou the last one?”

The tiger-woman laughed. “Almost the last one, perhaps.” The silk robes blurred, and then she coiled before us in her native shape again. “I killed more than a hundred humans, in my time. Never do anything by halves, if you’re going to do it. But human-shape bored me after a while, and I yearned for my old clothing of stripes and teeth and claws.”

“So?” I said, whiskers twitching.

“So I killed and ate a hundred tiger-sages from my own lineage, to become a tiger again.”

My mother was tense, silent. My eyes had gone wide.

The tiger looked at me intently. “If the kit is serious about this—and I can smell it on him, that taint is unmistakable—I have some words for him.”

I stared at the tiger, transfixed. It could have pounced on me in that moment and I wouldn’t have moved. My mother made a low half-growl in the back of her throat.

“Becoming human has nothing to do with flat faces and weak noses and walking on two legs,” the tiger said. “That’s what your people always get wrong. It’s the hunger for gossip and bedroom entanglements and un-fox-ish loyalties; it’s about having a human heart. I, of course, don’t care one whit about such matters, so I will never be trapped in human-shape. But for reasons I have never fathomed, foxes always lose themselves in their new faces.”

“We appreciate the advice,” my mother said, tail thumping against the ground. “I will steal you some incense.” I could tell she was desperate to leave.

The tiger waved a paw, not entirely benevolently. “Don’t trouble yourself on my account, little vixen. And tell your aunt I warned her, assuming you get the chance.”

Two weeks after that visit, I heard of Great-Aunt Seonghwa’s unfortunate demise. It was not enough to deter me from the path I had chosen.

“Come on, fox,” Jong said. “If your offer is sincere, you have nothing to fear from a mythical tiger.”

I refrained from snapping that ‘mythical’ tigers were the most frightening of all. Ordinary tigers were bad enough. Now that I was old enough to appreciate how dangerous tiger-sages were, I preferred not to bring myself to one’s attention. But remaining tied up like this wasn’t appealing, either. And who knew how much time I had to extract myself from this situation?

“I swear on the blood of the tiger-sages,” I said, “that I will keep my bargain with you. No fox tricks.” I could almost hear the tiger-sage’s cynical laughter in my head, but I hoped it was my imagination.

Jong didn’t waste time making additional threats. She unbuckled herself and leaned over me to undo my bonds. I admired her deft hands. Those could have been mine, I thought hungrily; but I had promised. While a fox’s word might not be worth much, I had no desire to become the prey of an offended tiger. Tiger-sages took oaths quite seriously when they cared to.

My limbs ached, and it still hurt when I swallowed or talked. Small pains, however, and the pleasure of being able to move again made up for them. “Thank you,” I said.

“I advise being human if you can manage it,” Jong said. I choked back a snort. “The seat will be more comfortable for you.”

I couldn’t argue the point. Despite the pain, I was able to focus enough to summon the change-magic. Magic had its own sense of humor, as always. Instead of outdated court dress, it presented me in street-sweeper’s clothes, right down to the hat. As if a hat did anything but make me look ridiculous, especially inside a cataphract.

To her credit, Jong didn’t burst out laughing. I might have tried for her throat if she had, short-tempered as I was. “We need to”—yawn—”keep moving. But the pursuers are too close. Convince the small gods to conceal us from their scan, and we’ll keep going until we find shelter enough to rest for real.”

Jong’s faith in my ability to convince the small gods to do me favors was very touching. I had promised, however, which meant I had to do my best. “You’re in luck,” I said; if she heard the irony in my voice, she didn’t react to it. “The small gods are hungry tonight.”

Feeding gods was tricky business. I had learned most of what I knew from Great-Aunt Seonghwa. My mother had disdained such magic herself, saying that she would trust her own fine coat for camouflage instead of relying on gods, to say nothing of all the mundane stratagems she had learned from her own mother. For my part, I was not too proud to do what I had to in order to survive.

The large gods of the Celestial Order, who guided the procession of stars, responded to human blandishments: incense (I often wondered if the tiger I had met lit incense to the golden statue, or if it was for her own pleasure), or offerings of roast duck and tangerines, or bolts of silk embroidered with gold thread. The most powerful of the large gods demanded rituals and chants. Having never been bold enough to eat a shaman or magician, I didn’t know how that worked. (I remained mindful of Great-Aunt Seonghwa’s fate.) Fortunately, the small gods did not require such sophistication.

“Can you spare any part of this machine?” I asked Jong.

Her mouth compressed. Still, she didn’t argue. She retrieved a screwdriver and undid one of the panels, joystick and all, although she pocketed the screws. “It’s not like the busted arm’s good for anything anymore,” she said. The exposed wires and pipes of coolant looked like exposed veins. She grimaced, then fiddled with the wires’ connectors until they had all been undone. “Will this do?”

I doubted the small gods knew more about cataphract engineering than I did. “Yes,” I said, with more confidence than I felt, and took the panel from her. I pressed my right hand against the underside of the panel, flinching in spite of myself from the metal’s unfriendly warmth.

This is my offering, I said in the language of forest and mountain, which even city foxes spoke; and my mother, as a very proper fox, had raised me in the forest. Earth and stone and—

Jong’s curse broke my concentration, although the singing tension in the air told me that the small gods already pressed close to us, reaching, reaching.

“What is it?” I said.

“We’ll have to fight,” Jong said. “Buckle in.”

I had to let go of the panel to do so. I had just figured out the straps—the cataphract’s were more complicated than the safety restraints found in automobiles—and the panel clanked onto the cockpit’s floor as the cataphract rumbled awake. The small gods skittered and howled, demanding their tribute. I was fox enough to hear them, even if Jong showed no sign of noticing anything.

The lights in the cockpit blazed up in a glory of colors. The glow sheened in Jong’s tousled hair and reflected in her eyes, etched deep shadows around her mouth. The servos whirred; I could have sworn the entire cataphract creaked and moaned as it woke.

I scooped up the panel. Its edges bit into my palms. “How many?” I asked, then wondered if I should be distracting Jong when we were entering combat.

“Five,” she said. “Whatever you’re doing, finish it fast.”

The machine lurched out of the crevice where we’d been hiding, then broke into its version of a run. My stomach dropped. Worse than the jolting gait was the fact that I kept bracing for the impact of those heavy metal feet against the earth. I kept expecting the cataphract to sink hip-deep. Even though the gods of earth and stone cushioned each stride, acting as shock-absorbers, the discrepancy between what I expected and what happened upset my sense of the world’s equilibrium.

The control systems made noises that had only shrillness to recommend them. I left their interpretation to Jong and returned my attention to the small gods. From the way the air in the cockpit eddied and swirled, I could tell they were growing impatient. Earth and stone were allied to metal, after all, and metal, especially when summoned on behalf of a weapon, had its volatile side.

The magic had provided me not with a knife this time but with a hat pin. I retrieved it and jabbed my palm with the pointy end. Blood welled up. I smeared it onto the cataphract’s joystick. Get us out of here, I said to the small gods. Not eloquent, but I didn’t have time to come up with anything better.

The world tilted askew, pale and dark and fractured. Jong might have said something. I couldn’t understand any of it. Then everything righted itself again.

More, the small gods said in voices like shuddering bone.

I whispered stories to them, still speaking in the language of forest and mountain, which had no words except the evocation of the smell of fallen pine needles on an autumn morning, or loam worked over by the worms, or rain filling paw prints left in the mud. I was still fox enough for this to suffice.

“What in the name of the blistering gods?” Jong demanded. Now even she could hear the clanging of distant bells. Music was one of the human innovations that the small gods had grown fond of.

“They’re building mazes,” I said. “They’ll mask our path. Go!“

Her eyes met mine for a moment, hot and incredulous. Then she nodded and jerked a lever forward, activating the walk cycle. The cataphract juddered. The targeting screen flashed red as it locked on an erratically moving figure: another cataphract. She pressed a trigger.

I hunched down in my seat at the racket the autocannon made as it fired four shots in rapid succession, like a damned smith’s hammer upon the world’s last anvil. The small gods rumbled their approval. I forced myself to watch the targeting screen. For a moment I thought Jong had missed. Then the figure toppled sideways.

“Legged them,” Jong said with vicious satisfaction. “Don’t care about honor or kill counts, it’s good enough to cripple them so we can keep running.”

We endured several hits ourselves. While the small gods could confuse the enemies’ sensors, the fact remained that the cataphract relied on its metal armor to protect its inner mechanisms. The impacts rattled me from teeth to marrow. I was impressed that we hadn’t gone tumbling down.

And when had I started thinking of us as “we,” anyway?

“We’re doomed,” I said involuntarily when something hit the cataphract’s upper left torso—by the I’d figured out the basics of a few of the status readouts—and the whole cockpit trembled.

Jong’s grin flickered sideways at me. “Don’t be a pessimist, fox,” she said, breathless. “You ever hear of damage distribution?”

“Damage what?”

“I’ll explain it to you if we—” A shrill beep captured her attention. “Whoops, better deal with this first.”

“How many are left?”

“Three.”

There had been five to begin with. I hadn’t even noticed the second one going down.

“If only I weren’t out of coolant, I’d—” Jong muttered some other incomprehensible thing after that.

In the helter-skelter swirl of blinking lights and god-whispers, Jong herself was transfigured. Not beautiful in the way of a court blossom but in the way of a gun: honed toward a single purpose. I knew then that I was doomed in another manner entirely. No romance between a fox and a human ever ended well. What could I do, after all? Persuade her to abandon her cataphract and run away with me into the forest, where I would feed her rabbits and squirrels? No; I would help her escape, then go my separate way.

Every time an alert sounded, every time a vibration thundered through the cataphract’s frame, I shivered. My tongue was bitten almost to bleeding. I could not remember the last time I had been this frightened.

You were right, Mother, I wanted to say. Better a small life in the woods, diminished though they were from the days before the great cities with their ugly high-rises, than the gnawing hunger that had driven me toward the humans and their beautiful clothes, their delicious shrimp crackers, their games of dice and yut and baduk. For the first time I understood that, as tempting as these things were, they came with a price: I could not obtain them without also entangling myself with human hearts, human quarrels, human loyalties.

A flicker at the edge of one of the screens caught my eye. “Behind us, to the right!” I said.

Jong made a complicated hooking motion with the joystick and the cataphract bent low. My vision swam. “Thank you,” she said.

“Tell me you have some plan beyond ‘keep running until everyone runs out of fuel,'” I said.

She chuckled. “You don’t know thing one about how a cataphract works, do you? Nuclear core. Fuel isn’t the issue.”

I ignored that. Nuclear physics was not typically a fox specialty, although my mother had allowed that astrology was all right. “Why do they want you so badly?”

I had not expected Jong to answer me. But she said, “There’s no more point keeping it a secret. I deserted.”

“Why?” A boom just ahead of us made me clutch the armrests as we tilted dangerously.

“I had a falling out with my commander,” Jong said. Her voice was so tranquil that we might have been sitting side by side on a porch, sipping rice wine. Her hands moved; moved again. A roaring of fire, far off. “Just two left. In any case, my commander liked power. Our squad was sworn to protect the interim government, not—not to play games with the nation’s politics.” She drew a deep breath. “I don’t suppose any of this makes sense to you.”

“Why are you telling me now?” I said.

“Because you might die here with me, and it’s not as if you can give away our location any more. They know who I am. It only seems fair.”

Typically human reasoning, but I appreciated the sentiment. “What good does deserting do you?” I supposed she might know state secrets, at that. But who was she deserting to?

“I just need to get to—” She shook her head. “If I can get to refuge, especially with this machine more or less intact, I have information the loyalists can make use of.” She was scrutinizing the infrared scan as she spoke.

“The Abalone Throne means that much to you?”

Another alert went off. Jong shut it down. “I’m going to bust a limb at this rate,” she said. “The Throne? No. It’s outlived its usefulness.”

“You’re a parliamentarian, then.”

“Yes.”

This matter of monarchies and parliaments and factions was properly none of my business. All I had to do was keep my end of the bargain, and I could leave behind this vexing, heartbreaking woman and her passion for something as abstract as government.

Jong was about to add something to that when it happened. Afterwards I was only able to piece together fragments that didn’t fit together, like shards of a mirror dropped into a lake. A concussive blast. Being flung backwards, then sideways. A sudden, sharp pain in my side. (I’d broken a couple ribs, in spite of the restraints. But without them, the injuries would have been worse.) Jong’s sharp cry, truncated. The stink of panic.

The cataphract had stopped moving. The small gods roared. I moved my head; pain stabbed all the way through the back of my skull. “Jong?” I croaked.

Jong was breathing shallowly. Blood poured thickly from the cut on her face. I saw what had happened: the panel had flown out of my hands and struck her edge-on. The small gods had taken their payment, all right; mine hadn’t been enough. If only I had foreseen this—

“Fox,” Jong said in a weak voice.

Lights blinked on-off, on-off, in a crazed quilt. The cockpit looked like someone had upended a bucket full of unlucky constellations into it. “Jong,” I said. “Jong, are you all right?”

“My mission,” she said. Her eyes were too wide, shocky, the red-and-amber of the status lights pooling in the enormous pupils. I could smell the death on her, hear the frantic pounding of her heart as her body destroyed itself. Internal bleeding, and a lot of it. “Fox, you have to finish my mission. Unless you’re also a physician?”

“Shh,” I said. “Shh.” I had avoided eating people in the medical professions not out of a sense of ethics but because, in the older days, physicians tended to have a solid grounding in the kinds of magics that threatened shape-changing foxes.

“I got one of them,” she said. Her voice sounded more and more thready. “That leaves one, and of course they’ll have called for reinforcements. If they have anyone else to spare. You have to—”

I could have howled my frustration. “I’ll carry you.”

Under other circumstances, that grimace would have been a laugh. “I’m dying, fox, do you think I can’t tell?”

“I don’t know the things you know,” I said desperately. “Even if this metal monstrosity of yours can still run, I can’t pilot it for you.” It was getting hard to breathe; a foul, stinging vapor was leaking into the cockpit. I hoped it wasn’t toxic.

“Then there’s no hope,” she whispered.

“Wait,” I said, remembering; hating myself. “There’s a way.”

The sudden flare of hope in Jong’s eyes cut me.

“I can eat you,” I said. “I can take the things you know with me, and seek your friends. But it might be better simply to die.”

“Do it,” she said. “And hurry. I assume it doesn’t do you any good to eat a corpse, or your kind would have a reputation as grave-thieves.”

I didn’t squander time on apologies. I had already unbuckled the harness, despite the pain of the broken ribs. I flowed back into fox-shape, and I tore out her throat so she wouldn’t suffer as I devoured her liver.

The smoke in the cockpit thickened, thinned. When it was gone, a pale tiger watched me from the rear of the cockpit. It seemed impossible that she could fit; but the shadows stretched out into an infinite vast space to accommodate her, and she did. I recognized her. In a hundred stolen lifetimes I would never fail to recognize her.

Shivering, human, mouth full of blood-tang, I looked down. The magic had given me one last gift: I wore a cataphract pilot’s suit in fox colors, russet and black. Then I met the tiger’s gaze.

I had broken the oath I had sworn upon the tiger-sage’s blood. Of course she came to hunt me.

“I had to do it,” I said, and stumbled to my feet, prepared to fight. I did not expect to last long against a tiger-sage, but for Jong’s sake I had to try.

“There’s no ‘have to’ about anything,” the tiger said lazily. “Every death is a choice, little not-a-fox. At any step you could have turned aside. Now—” She fell silent.

I snatched up Jong’s knife. Now that I no longer had sharp teeth and claws, it would have to do.

“Don’t bother with that,” the tiger said. She had all her teeth, and wasn’t shy about displaying them in a ferocious grin. “No curse I could pronounce on you is more fitting than the one you have chosen for yourself.”

“It’s not a curse,” I said quietly.

“I’ll come back in nine years’ time,” the tiger said, “and we can discuss it then. Good luck with your one-person revolution.”

“I needn’t fight it alone,” I said. “This is your home, too.”

The tiger seemed to consider it. “Not a bad thought,” she said, “but maps and boundaries and nationalism are for humans, not for tigers.”

“If you change your mind,” I said, “I’m sure you can find me, in nine years’ time or otherwise.”

“Indeed,” the tiger said. “Farewell, little not-a-fox.”

“Thank you,” I said, but she was gone already.

I secured Jong’s ruined body in the copilot’s seat I had vacated, so it wouldn’t flop about during maneuvers, and strapped myself in. The cataphract was damaged, but not so badly damaged that I still couldn’t make a run for it. It was time to finish Jong’s mission.

#Yoon Ha Lee #Foxfire Foxfire #short story #actually long story

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ao3feed-ateez · 4 years ago

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by flowerysan

NOT STARTED!!

mingi is hurting. he wants to distract himself. yunho wants to help and even though mingi loves him and his lavender smell, he doesnt want to bother him. its useless

Words: 25, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: K-pop, ATEEZ (Band)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Song Mingi, Jeong Yunho, Kang Yeosang, Park Seonghwa, Choi Jongho, Choi San, Kim Hongjoong, Jung Wooyoung

Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa

Additional Tags: Smoking, Alternate Universe - High School, mingi is hurting, Self-Harm, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, yunho wants to help, Lowercase, I might kill someone off, I WILL END UP CHANGING TAGS !!

#ateez #ao3feed #Kpop rpf

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honey-lemon-goose · 2 years ago

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"Bestfriend"🤣💀Joong >>>

'park seonghwa had a list.' But now has he checked it twice!? Does he know who is naughty or nice!?🤔 (apologies for the bad joke but I couldn't resist. . . Santa Hwa who!?) 'seonghwa lifted his best friend by the hair, tilting hongjoong’s head back harshly' BESTFRIEND!?👀💀 I. . .BESTFRIEND!?? Bestfriend my ass💀 AND wym again!? Seonghwa out here bullying his bestfriend😭💀 Man's is just doing his job Hwa💀😔 'seonghwa said he had to catch up with hongjoong — whatever that meant' frfr did seonghwa unalive his BESTFRIEND!? AGAIN!?😱😭💀 'hongjoong felt more familiar than seonghwa did if anything' ooooh👀 probably because he tired to warn past y/n's that Hwa is crazy and kills him for just doing his job😭 'blood stained his collar and you hated that you knew exactly who it belonged to, yet, you stayed quiet.' I TOO WONDER HOW THAT MEETING WITH HIS BESTFRIEND WENT👀💀 “i could go with you, i have to pick up a few things.” yeah don't want San to swoop in and Mr stealing your girl type beat👀 'of course, you of all people, were getting married to the god of death during the month that has all sorts of creepy aspects attached to it' mmm ironic yes, but also hehe cute🫣💛 “my y/n never let a man tell them what to do.” oop, gooped and gagged! That's craaazzzyy🫢👀 “not everyone is to be trusted, y/n, no matter how familiar they feel.” Excellent advice San🫡 but I still do not trust you or Hwa! 'and you froze, eyes landing on hongjoong who stood in front of your driver’s seat door, his eyes meeting yours instantly' HE DIDNT DIE!!🙏💛 HWA ONLY BEAT HIM, STILL NOT OKAY BUT HEY!!!

CHAPTER THREE — CALL IT FATE, CALL IT KARMA

lavender blood || park seonghwa

pairing: gn!reader x god of death!seonghwa

word count: 1,716

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chapter warnings: mentions of blood. implied violence. the timeframe being near halloween, so it’s mentioned — just a heads up for any readers of mine!

chapter starts off in a scene with hongjoong’s pov at first! but the rest is in y/n’s!

taglist ( ask to be + or - )

@vemarkciraptor @girlsbyaespa @storminacloud @etrnalhwa @mingiholic @sugarrimajins @gemjimin @alanniys @teezers99 @bobrouxsky @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @actuallyalien @jackinmyarea @honey-lemon-goose @spicyduck13 @atinyreads @anoooon13 @melanchobtch

i am in no way claiming this to be an accurate representation of ateez/seonghwa or any of the other people i mention in my works—everything is strictly fictional and made to be read and enjoyed. they are merely reference characters. i am also in no way glamorizing or romanticizing anything i mention in my works such as toxic behavior and bodily harm, i won’t tolerate seeing such either. with such, please don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts!

Keep reading

#lavender blood || park seonghwa #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa x y/n #🍯🍋recs #San is def sketchy👀🤔#but like so is Hwa😔#out here only able to trust Hongjoong🙏💛#i mean mans is out here getting beat by his so called bestfriend!#just for doing his job too🤧😭#akwnwknww y/n must have such a headache🫡😭

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roomsofangel · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER NINE

even the stars can be hollow .ᐟ

wc 1.4k

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^

chapter warnings acts of violence. mingi is playing darts with organs as the target. overall, a more heavier chapter

a/n this chapter starts with seonghwa’s pov and a flashback with him and san! but more exposed lore? 👀

things like him will never have a happy ending.

seonghwa always replayed those words, they echoed in his head for all of his immortal life — the damage being ripped open by the very person who sought after you for the same amount of centuries

choi san.

seonghwa humors at times about it, when he isn’t grieving the amount of times he lost you. the moment he and san shared, still achingly vivid.

“they’re mine, san. their love for you is witchcraft.” seonghwa spat, holding the other who held the same animosity in his gaze, by the throat, fist wrapped and clenching around his windpipe, “let them go.”

san let out a half restricted laugh, “oh seonghwa,” he bitterly replied, finding the opportunity to knee the other in the stomach.

seonghwa groaned, hand going towards the impact that made him wince for a moment before he found himself being shoved onto his knees by a human. how pathetic in his eyes.

“you’re death himself, they were never going to stay with you, seonghwa,” san followed along with venom in each word, amused at how the god of death was kneeling, head tilted back by a human’s hand using harsh force

seonghwa’s adam’s apple bobbed while he swallowed down his words, biting down on his tongue as he listened to the words san spewed. sure, it must be divine for a human to have a being like him in this scenario so effortlessly

he coughed up the metallic from both the impact and from the way his teeth sunk down into his flesh, the weak state of his body only fueling san to hit seonghwa right where they both knew would hurt more than any physical wound,

“things like you, seonghwa,” san bitterly laughed, “never get happy endings.”

seonghwa stared out the window, it seemed cliche to him but the rain hitting the glass soothed him. he waited for you to get out the shower, hoping to share more of his side. it was something he desperately wanted to give, but he wasn’t a hero in this story of yours. he could be the villain. it all depended on how you saw everything.

it all came down to if you still were going to look at him with those eyes if you knew how many lives it took just to get it right this time because san was always good at conning — the best poker face there was, and seonghwa was just as good at placing bets but even he couldn’t sit and deny that choi san was right, things like him will never have a happy ending.

“it’s pitiful.” yeosang groaned, throwing his head back into the cushions, tilting to look at the company he had in his room who threw a dart that pierced another body organ. the lungs this time.

“ah! bingo!” mingi’s voice erupted, laughing before he turned to meet yeosang’s gaze, replying in a huff and eyeroll

yeosang propped himself up using his elbows, leaning back on them, “were you even listening?” he deadpanned, “or were you too busy doing your makeshift war?”

mingi nodded his head, “too busy,” he shrugged before aiming the last dart towards the now pierced heart that used to belong to one of the other deities — taehyung was nice. it was a bummer that he now was added to the collection of disobedience.

climbing into bed, mingi laid on his back while he stared at the ceiling, “i’m listening now, your majesty,” he teased

yeosang scoffed, “it’s pitiful how y/n is so persistent on getting answers,” he shook his head, “you know seonghwa won’t do shit and i’m just trying to help the poor bambi.”

mingi hummed in response.

“or are you trying to clean your guilty conscience after what happened that night?” mingi voiced

the bed dipped down, yeosang leaning to grab the cup of tea he had on his nightstand, chucking it at the wall and watching it shatter into pieces

“i’m taking that as a maybe.” mingi humored

and yeosang didn’t reply after, only thinking about how he could tell you no one is who they truly say they are.

looking down at your half eaten croissant, stomach grumbling but not being able to handle more than just a bite while you leaned on your hand for support, chin resting on your palm while your mind wandered, things were oddly calm during this moment

during your shower, the water soaking your hair as you stood underneath it — the steam clouding the room, all you had in your mind was questions that all pointed back to the root of what you deemed to be the problem. park seonghwa.

the more you looked into his eyes, the more the ache you had in your chest tightened and worsened. maybe it was all in your head. you wanted to convince yourself.

glancing at the ring that condemned you to the madness on loop again, a soft scoff escaped your lips. what a twisted fate.

nose twitching, you heard the door open and shut before faint footsteps turned louder and closer, seonghwa standing in the doorway with a frown, “you okay?” he asked, starting the conversation which made him shake his head in disbelief to his own attempt

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, nodding your head and using your hand to wave him off slightly, “don’t worry about it, i’m fine.”

seonghwa shifted his body, trying to test the waters first it seemed when he took a step closer. you didn’t react, which he took as a sign that it was okay to take a seat next to you, “you do realize i know when you’re lying, correct?”

sighing, you nodded, “sadly.”

seonghwa hummed, “you must be tired, your thoughts are loud.”

resting your head on his shoulder, seonghwa let out a gentle gasp from the sudden action he didn’t expect, body tensing at first before he relaxed, “what does me being tired have to do with that?” you quietly asked

seonghwa rested his hand on your thigh, caressing as if you were made of glass and he was afraid his touch would cause you to break, “blocking out your emotions and thoughts from deities can be exhausting,” he humored, “i know you’ve been doing that, y/n, and its okay.”

“have you been trying to read my mind?” you questioned, curious rather than upset and seonghwa took note of that

shaking his head in response, seonghwa watched as your fingers messed with his, the metal of your matching rings brushing against each other, he needed to hurry up. he didn’t have much time. he couldn’t lose you again—

“hwa?” your voice broke his thoughts and he blinked himself back into reality

“yeah?” he cleared his throat, saddened by the frown on your face

“you zoned out when i asked my question,” you tried to come off light hearted, but your mind was racing the more seonghwa stayed silent and his own head ached from the sound

kissing your temple, seonghwa replied with a gentle tone, “i trust that you will be honest with me and i don’t need to read your every thought.”

your face scowled unconsciously, the urge to call him a hypocrite due to his own dishonesty far too strong, yet you refrained. for now.

in the position you and seonghwa were in, you wouldn’t have minded it. if the two of you didn’t have your past lives, if seonghwa wasn’t the literal god of death, if he was just honest and told you everything — you would’ve saw this as something you wanted forever.

you flinched at your own hesitation and second guessing, feeling something unrecognizable in your chest.

lifting your head, seonghwa calling your name suddenly became muffled and white noise while you gasped for air into heaving lungs

the picture you swore you saw in your eyes flashing for a mere second when you lifted you head, made you tremble, gripping onto seonghwa’s shirt who had concern overwhelming his face

“y/n!” his hands cupping your face as you locked eyes with him, coming back to your senses and you tried not to jump back and shove him away, “are you okay?”

you wanted to scream at him, but no noise came out, mouth agape as you tasted the salty tears you weren’t aware were streaming down your cheeks while he brought you into an embrace for you to sob. because what you saw you couldn’t explain. you don’t think you want an explanation either. not yet.

what would be the reason you saw seonghwa holding your lifeless body with his hands covered in the crime?

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roomsofangel · 10 months ago

Text

CHAPTER THREE

call it fate, call it karma .ᐟ

wc 1.7k

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chapter warnings mentions of blood. implied violence. the timeframe being near halloween, so it’s mentioned — just a heads up for any readers of mine!

chapter starts off in a scene with hongjoong’s pov at first! but the rest is in y/n’s!

park seonghwa had a list.

and hongjoong kenned that if you figured out what was truly on it — you would turn your back on seonghwa again

after all, hongjoong always knew you best.

yet, he also knew he was the cause for all of this — your demise, seonghwa’s anger, not to mention being the granter for the villain san was today

it all fell back onto him.

but who could protest?

hongjoong was the god of fate and its never-ending doom — this was all he was ever going to be.

“you don’t have to do this again, seonghwa,” hongjoong’s voice was frail, his hand ghosting over his throat that was sore, coughing up metallic tasting crimson, “we don’t have to do this again.”

seonghwa lifted his best friend by the hair, tilting hongjoong’s head back harshly before seething into his ear, “then you should’ve stopped at the second life.”

your index finger traced the spine of the heavy book you held in your hands, dust and dirt covering the object with multiple layers — the entire library seonghwa had in his home reminded you of a ghost that could not stop haunting

and as if you were only going back to wail in your crime scene

the room as a whole didn’t twist your mind, it was the books that resided on every shelf. if someone asked you to, you were convinced you could recite every word from the thousand pages in there — even when you swore you haven’t picked them up before

seonghwa said he had to catch up with hongjoong — whatever that meant, you had to fight the question due to the fact you had endless more, your mother being safe and sound was your most recent worry that dissipated

you hoped to call her soon, even when she might want you to stay far away from her. trouble always followed you after all.

sighing, you set the book down, the stains of dirt clouding the tips of you fingers, your thoughts started to wander off more

hongjoong seemed so familiar, now that you were sitting down and thinking back with a calmer mind and not a desperate desire for survival — hongjoong felt more familiar than seonghwa did if anything

“you’re still awake?”

your body jumped up, eyes flinching before you lifted your head to see seonghwa who stood by one of the shelves, his hand helping him balance his weight so he could lean against it — “it’s nearly three in the morning,” he chuckled

blood.

blood stained his collar and you hated that you knew exactly who it belonged to, yet, you stayed quiet.

for now.

“i couldn’t sleep,” you sighed, standing on your feet to put back the book you failed to read, “how did your meeting with hongjoong go?”

he slightly flinched at the mention of the other, seonghwa putting on a poker face and smiled, his eyes told a different story on how he felt,

it was funny really, amusing even

him being the god of death, and yourself a mere human

yet, you were finding it so easy as time went on that reading him like your favorite novel came natural — you saw right through him as he did you

“it was okay,” he swallowed his distaste, “come, let’s get ready for bed,” his hand extended for you to hold

the first night was always the hardest, it could be implied for anything

but taking his hand to wash up and get ready to sleep — you were left with a foggy mind, because truthfully, this didn’t feel like a first night at all.

the sun was bright, bleeding through the maroon lacy curtains of seonghwa’s bedroom that you were residing with heavy blankets, the spot next to you empty

you almost wanted to believe everything that took place was a lucid dream — yet, his scent was heavy and where you were screamed otherwise

rubbing your wrist, you managed to pull yourself out of bed after contemplating if you should just yet, stumbling and wandering out and down the halls of his overly large home to find the kitchen

“morning,” you heard seonghwa, following with a sound of a mug getting placed down onto a marbled surface, “i didn’t think you’d be up so early, i was gonna go get you food,” he followed up with

“i don’t have much, people like us don’t eat.”

you knew what he meant, which also made sense when it came to sleep as well — “you didn’t sleep either?”

“those things aren’t necessary anymore, but i still can…” his eyes flicker to the window and then yourself again, you noticing a slight change in his mood, “it helps make me feel human.”

you nodded your head in understanding, moving so you could prop yourself up on the counter to sit

then as if it didn’t process before, it did now — what did he mean by anymore?

“do you have plans today?” he asked, almost as if he was trying to make your questions subside and focus on something else

and sadly it worked for now,

“i wanted to go to the café again, get my usual,” you noted, looking at him to try and pick apart his body language at the mention

“morning routine?” his mouth went dry it seemed, his hand taking the cup he placed down to take a drink, “i could go with you, i have to pick up a few things.”

humming, you shook your head, “don’t worry, i’ll go to a new café,” you tried to reassure him

and he wanted to believe you

you could see that

then he sighed, “no, you can go to the one you usually go to,” he cleared his throat, “just tell me if san bothers you again, okay? promise me that.”

and you nod, “i promise.”

plopping yourself down so you could scurry to change, you could’ve sworn you heard seonghwa mumble something

something along the lines of,

“because i don’t want to have to repeat fate.”

your nose twitched, sitting at the same table you enjoyed after ordering your usual tea, however this time you requested a new pastry they were having — ironically, it had to do with all things death, it was going to be halloween after all.

which only made you find everything even more ironic.

of course, you of all people, were getting married to the god of death during the month that has all sorts of creepy aspects attached to it

but that didn’t mean you hated it, october was still going to be your favorite month — this just… made it more complicated

you snapped out of your thoughts feeling an intense presence, wanting to assume it was seonghwa with the way it felt

the clink of a glass plate setting onto the table and seeing arm move a bit to set your drink down, your eyes flicker up to see a familiar face

san.

“you came back, eh?” he humored, his voice sending chills down your spine before he invited himself and took a seat across from you, “i liked these, they tasted like home,” he chuckled

referring to the skull shaped cookie that rested on your plate, you scoffed, “i come here every morning,” you tried to deescalate anything before it truly started

and san picked up on that,

you could tell.

“i don’t want any trouble, y/n,” he shook his head, “if anything, that’s the last thing i want.”

and you hated that you couldn’t see through him like you could seonghwa despite the fact he felt just as familiar too

“seonghwa told me i need to stay away from you,” you briefed, hand extending to grab your drink but his overlapped yours, eyes widening for a moment due to the sudden action

“and you suddenly let a man control your decision?” he rolled his eyes, laughing bitterly before you yanked your hand from underneath his, “my y/n never let a man tell them what to do.”

his y/n?

“excuse me?” it had came off more harsh than intended, but with the way san grinned — it seemed to have an opposite affect, if anything, you could detect the sinful undertones with the way he licked his lips

he laughed, “seonghwa isn’t the only one who can answer those questions of yours,” he arched a brow

blinking, you broke apart a piece of the cookie so you could distract yourself, “what do you mean, san?”

“ah, i love hearing that,” he sighed affectionately when you called him his name before his face went monotone, “but i sadly need to get back to what humans call a job,” he groaned, his hand’s gesturing to the line that was starting to build up and his human coworker calling out for his help

you laughed, despite the fact that the feelings you had weren’t amusing and instead, filled with terror on how you were going to explain any of this to seonghwa, “better get back to it,” you began to gather your things after placing the baked good piece into your mouth to get ready to leave and enjoy your drink elsewhere

“let’s meet again though, okay?” san pushed himself out of the seat, dusting himself off, “but without seonghwa knowing.”

your head sprung up at the mention of seonghwa’s name and it made san laugh, “you think i don’t know what he probably said to you?”

“not everyone is to be trusted, y/n, no matter how familiar they feel.”

and for some reason,

you feel as if you had been told that before,

“not even you?”

san blinked a couple times as if he was taken aback, you stared back at him suffering the overwhelming sense of deja vu

“especially not me,” he repeated words you heard before, except you could recall him not being the one who said them

you watched him walk away, hands starting to tremble as you gathered everything and made your way out, looking around before finding your car

and you froze, eyes landing on hongjoong who stood in front of your driver’s seat door, his eyes meeting yours instantly

yeah, deja vu was not going easy on you today.

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roomsofangel · 11 months ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE

death wish .ᐟ

wc 1.1k

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your mother said you had trouble following you ever since you learned how to walk — it had only gotten worse with age.

and with recent events, you were starting to believe her because truly, in what world, who can say,

the god of death asked you to marry him.

breathing in the scented candles, your shoulders slumped, “he has a taste for vanilla,” you muttered, index finger delicately grazing the glass holding the flame in tact

“do you not like it?” seonghwa’s voice startled you, your body tensing from the energy it couldn’t process radiating off of him, his large hands firmly holding your arms from behind you— yet, it still felt like he was handling you with more care than you could ever fathom a being like him would.

humming, “i never said i didn’t,” you turned your body to face him, his expression softening once your eyes met each others — he smiled, hands drifting off of you and to his sides

seonghwa’s scent was different and it was only more noticeable when the two of you stood this close, the mixture of cold iced air and rain, just add a bit of cigarette smoke and cherry — your nose twitched, hand lifting for your finger to wipe it

though all reapers had a scent,

seonghwa only proved he was much more than just that. his title being the god of death made your spine shudder.

“you should wake up now, y/n,” he whispered, his chest pressed against yours while you tightly knit your brows together, fingers laced in his belt loops, humming in question

“wake up?” you asked

nodding his head, he gently shoved you away so he could step back and gain his composure you saw was faltering, “i just came to visit,” he held his hands in defense, “lake, tonight. i’ll explain the rest of our deal.”

and before you had time to question, your body shot up with you gasping for air — chest heavy and frantically rising, your forehead dripped with sweat before you wiped it off

4:44am

“ah, seonghwa,” you cursed under your breath after your breathing had settled, laying yourself back down and pulling a pillow over your head in exasperation

the two of you had gotten separated that night after he dropped the sudden question—scratch that—the sudden command it seemed with the way he had came about it.

your mother had called midway of him getting ready to explain more about the wedding arrangements and why this had to be done — how do you tell your family you’re getting married?

and how the hell do you tell them he’s the creator of their future demise? he decided everything in the end.

“one iced mint green tea, please,” you requested, attempting to dust off the imaginary dirt off your blouse while you stood in front of the coffee shop’s cashier who nodded their head

you didn’t get much sleep after the visit seonghwa paid you with, a clouded mind — you sat in the back by the window, eyes glued to the scenery that changed with each and every new person added and removed, the sun bright and giving everyone a kiss on the head

hands clasped together, you continued to watch the endless amount of people who weren’t aware they would be dying soon, frowning at some that would be a few hours from now.

receiving your drink, you thanked the barista and put your straw in, and that’s when you noticed something

with a heavy chest, you turned to glance back at the register where you saw someone already looking at you — nose twitching, you attempted to look away, having the urge to run and hide

his catlike eyes stared deeply into you, almost as if he was trying to rip out your soul with his hands — he wasn’t a reaper, you could sense it.

then what was he?

“san! come get these boxes from the back, you’re stronger than i am,” you heard someone from the back call out for him and it broke his eye contact with you, his uninterested expression turning to the person who stumbled out before he followed behind them

and not before he gave you one final glance, mouthing,

‘come back soon’

the sky was going through its new phase, a waning gibbous moon glowing on the water while you sat in the same spot you had been residing when seonghwa had made his existence first known to you — your breathing was rough, almost as if your lungs refused to give you oxygen before the tightness released hearing footsteps behind you

with tensed muscles, your head glanced over your shoulder to see the myth and legend — park seonghwa, looking down at you with an expression that made your chest feel iced, “seonghwa?” you asked

taking a seat next to you, ignoring your acknowledgment, seonghwa looked back at the moon with a sigh, “you met san—didn’t you, y/n?”

clearing your throat, “san?”

seonghwa’s expressions were unreadable but you knew, deep down in your core, that there wasn’t pleasant feelings attached to them, scoffing, “you can’t lie to me, y/n,

not when i’m your reaper and husband,” he finally met your gaze.

“i never fully agreed on marrying you,” you muttered — it was now your turn to avoid his stare

laughing from the base of his throat, seonghwa hummed shortly after, “you didn’t need to, your energy was enough for me.”

“i know you met san, y/n, just not formally,” he humored, though, there was nothing amusing about the situation to him, you could tell with the way his fists clenched around his coat, “don’t go back there.”

“what?” you coughed, turning to look at him

how did—

“i think you forget i’m the god of death,” he shook his head, “god is in the name,” seonghwa deadpanned

and truthfully,

seonghwa didn’t feel like a threat despite his title screaming otherwise — something about him made interacting so easy.

why did you feel as if you knew him before? as if you both were picking up where you left off..

his fingers brushed against your hand, your nose twitching before you felt his frigid temperatures on your skin more — seonghwa held your hand and it made you question everything once more

“i could answer the questions you have, y/n,” he spoke up, voice more frail and broken before clearing his throat to continue, “but i need you to verbally consent to being my wife,” his eyes locked on you

and if anyone asked you what was going through your head when you answered his proposal — you knew they would call you insane

because why did you cup seonghwa’s face between your hands, and whisper, “i’ll marry you, seonghwa.”

as if you didn’t know the consequences that would begin to follow you after saying those four words.

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honey-lemon-goose · 2 years ago

Text

Me:

'choi san was not the type you should be messing with right now, but you needed answers.' Akwnwk nooo just go talk to Hongjoong😭😭 'unsurprisingly — he had a long list of enemies.' Unsurprising indeed🤣💀“am i just that alluring?” he teased, “i was taking your jacket off, i thought you were hot because your face was red,” Oof San is just overall dangerous🫣💛 “we were supposed to marry.” awh so y/n was his first🥲 “but you loved seonghwa more than you ever did me,” MAN, now I feel bad for poor San but his way of going about things is wrong😭 and he was the only human too😔 “i killed myself because i couldn’t handle the pain,” Oh man San had it bad🫢 “how do i know you’re not trying to make me feel bad for you, san?” you asked him' AHHHHHHHHHH KISSING Y/N ISNT AN ANSWER SAN THAT COULD BE VEIWED AS JUST MORE MANIPULATION😱😤 kicked them out too smh pssh San you just can't kiss someone unannounced and expect things to be okay🤦‍♀️ “let’s get you home to seonghwa, okay?” Wooyoung🥹💛 “i won’t tell seonghwa you were here.” very sweet of Woo but I have a feeling Hwa already knows😔👀

CHAPTER SIX — SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE, SOMEHOW

lavender blood || park seonghwa

pairing: gn!reader x god of death!seonghwa

word count: 1,480

prev .. next

chapter warnings: mentions of mental health, san mentions s*icide, san is telling y/n part of his side to their history

this chapter solely surrounds san and y/n!!

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@vemarkciraptor @storminacloud @etrnalhwa @mingiholic @sugarrimajins @gemjimin @alanniys @teezers99 @bobrouxsky @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @actuallyalien @jackinmyarea @honey-lemon-goose @kitty4hwa @atinyreads @anoooon13 @melanchobtch @marsattacks @officialhwa @belle643 @seojonneh

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#lavender blood || park seonghwa #park seonghwa au #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa #ateez fanfic #ateez #ateez x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa x y/n #🍯🍋recs #man San really makes it hard to trust the man🤦‍♀️🥲#his backstory is sad yes but he could've answered and not kiss y/n🤦‍♀️#it just gives the wrong message and to kick them out right after!?😱 SAN!?#why is Woo more trustworthy than San🤣💀#i get why y/n went to him but i feel as though there where no good intentions🫡👀#First impression of Wooyoung was good! such a gentleman!🤭💛

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roomsofangel · 11 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO

unwanted houseguest .ᐟ

wc 1.7k

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“fate is a dangerous thing,” the male in front of seonghwa hummed, slipping off the gloves that hugged his hands with ease, “but history, more often than not,” he lifted his body off the seat, “repeats itself.”

seonghwa scoffed, “i lost her three times to san, i’m not letting that happen again,” sharply replying before he lifted himself from his chair as well

their eyes locked, seonghwa shaking his head before he broke the eye contact, “hongjoong, you’re in control of fate and the doomed reality of it,” his jaw clenched, “so stop talking as if you don’t make the conscious decison to keep bringing y/n back just for them to be ripped away again,” he stepped closer to the male

“because this time i’m not playing nice.”

hongjoong looked up at seonghwa, a devilish grin on his lips, “i think you forgot about the others, hwa,” his voice taunting before he flicked his hand upward, the velvet sheet that covered the picture behind them falling off with the gush of wind hongjoong granted, “san isn’t the only one you want to focus your need for justice on.”

grabbing hongjoong by the collar of his shirt, seonghwa’s shaky breath ghosted over the male’s lips before he harshly shoved him to the wall with a thud, “like i said, hongjoong, i’m not playing nice this time.”

two days.

it had been two days since you sealed the confirmation of your soon to be wedding with your soon to be husband — those words coming out of your mouth and even sitting in your head alone, made you want to curl up and melt within the blankets that felt just more suffocating and tight no matter how much you tried to make them comfortable again

your suitcase laid closed and ready for the night that will follow later on today, seonghwa saying you had to stay with him and there will be no objections to the offer—if it even was one in the first place, you didn’t have a choice nor say so in the matter—

“you never told me about him,” your mother had said when you mentioned seonghwa and the marriage, along with the fact you would be moving out so suddenly, though, apparently you had been living under some rock

seonghwa may have been the god of death, but here, he was just as feared and successful without the known title you were aware of — i guess when you lived so long through many decades and lifetimes, you learn a thing or two.

of course, your mother had doubts on why park seonghwa would even glance your way and if you were being truthful — that was until he showed up in his suit and took you by the hand, kissing the top before smiling, “my spouse,”

your heart curled and squeezed in its place, the way he said those words made it seem as if this wasn’t the first time he called you something of the sorts, it felt all too familiar.

and now you laid here — staring at your ceiling in the dark with shallow breaths and a loud heartbeat, wondering why you didn’t second guess your decison and why it felt as if this was the only option you had. something that was made for you.

groaning, you turned to your side and saw something standing in the corner of your bedroom, between your dresser and suitcase that was on your desk, squeezing your eyes shut you hoped that when you opened them, it would be gone

and thankfully, it was.

until all ease faded and you felt a hand on your shoulder from behind you, causing you to react first and let out a scream, hand jerking to hit whatever it was behind you

“fuck!” a voice called out behind you in pain, you turning to see a male with black and white half colored hair, holding his nose

in fast reaction, you lifted yourself off the bed to grab whatever was close to you — the lamp seemed like the best option at the time before you cursed mentally at the stupid choice

“not gonna hurt you, y/n,” he muttered, standing on his feet

and before you could even ask why the hell he knew your name, you froze at the sudden speed he was able to take the lamp and throw it aside and have you up against a wall

gulping, you knew instantly he wasn’t human — and just like san who you learned was someone not to be trusted, the man in front of you held the same feeling of superiority

“who are you?” voice cracking as you asked, the tip of his shoe digging into your foot

humming, he seemed amused by your question, “kim hongjoong, one of seonghwa’s friends,” he smiled before a crash was heard in the living room

the only person you instantly thought about was your mother who was sleeping in the other room after a long shift, kneeing hongjoong in the stomach was enough for him to let you go in surprise and have you slip away to run to the other room, and that’s where seonghwa was staring back at you

“seonghwa?” you asked

but with the way his face was, you knew instantly not to test his patience nor be noncompliant

“hwa! we were just messing around, don’t—“

“shut up, hongjoong,” seonghwa spat, his hand reaching your wrist to tug you close to his body, a breath escaping your lips as soon as you collided with his hard chest

pouting, hongjoong put his hand over his chest to mock offense, “i did nothing wrong,” he whined

you wanted to protest, fingernails sinking into seonghwa’s wrist who didn’t show any reaction to the sudden sharpness, instead, it only made him groan in a way you never would imagine hearing just yet, and his eyes lowering to you before they went back to hongjoong, jaw clenched, “hongjoong, i told you i wasn’t going to be nice this time, i think you lack the braincells of understanding.”

“when you’re in charge of everyone’s doom and fate, i think it’ll do that to you,” hongjoong humored before he laughed, “you can say the same, seonghwa, we’re partners in crime afterall,” he looked at the male beside you, seonghwa’s grip only tightening

“i choose their fate, you make it happen, let’s not forget our favorite trio who partake—“

“enough,” seonghwa yelled, the frames hanging on the wall falling onto the ground and shattering

and the one voice you dreaded hearing, not wanting her to get involved, was heard — your mother calling your name from the other room

hongjoong and seonghwa looked at each other — you could see the two contrastingly different approahces and gazes between them

“y/n, get your suitcase and meet me in the car, i’ll handle the rest,” seonghwa whispered in your ear

“they’re back?” wooyoung questioned, legs that were propped up by the desk moving to the side so he could focus his attention better on san who had just walked in with an announcement

“round four, or is it five?” san humored, eyes looking at his glass of red wine and swirling the liquid around before taking a sip, “you think seonghwa is gonna go easy this time?”

wooyoung shook his head, “definitely not—with the last time and how that happened, pretty sure if that was you, you wouldn’t either.”

san scoffed, “i’m the fucking god of dread and terror, how else am i going to pass time?”

wooyoung dramatically sighed, “sometimes i wonder why we’re together,”

before san could open his mouth to dissent for the hundredth time they weren’t together — two new voices were down the hall, the entrance showing mingi and jongho

“ah! there you guys are!” wooyoung whined, getting up to bring the two in further with a smile

mingi groaned, shoving the bubbly male away in annoyance, “cut to the chase, woo, why are we here? where are the others?”

jongho nodded, letting wooyoung grab him and hug him despite the scowl on his face showing he did not appreciate the gestures he was being given, “where’s hongjoong?”

setting his glass down, san cleared his throat, “everyone else is doing their jobs, you two are the only ones i knew would come.”

mingi’s attention focused on san, scoffing, “there hasn’t been a war in a while, i could be given a thank you maybe?” he rolled his eyes but laughed to show his humor

jongho shot his hands up in defense, “time will only tell.”

“for the last time stop making time jokes, we get it, you’re the god of time,” mingi swatted the back of jongho’s head who smacked him in the chest in response

wooyoung curled up on the couch, patting the two open spots next to him for the others who took them, san sitting across from them

“they’re back,” was the first thing san said after the hiatus of silence

jongho’s head was the first to shoot up in response, “does seonghwa know?”

“does he know? they’re married now,” san scoffed, mimicking jongho’s question in a mocking tone

wooyoung groaned, “i hate that he didn’t do it properly!”

“i mean, would you? seonghwa had been waiting another fucking century, i doubt he was thinking of your stupid traditions,” mingi retorted

wooyoung replied back with a dramatic sigh and fake passing out before he opened his eyes and kicked mingi, “jokes on you, everyone seems to go along with them!”

“not us,” the other three replied in unison

“whatever..” wooyoung mumbled

“..anyways, seonghwa knows they’re back and is making sure he gets everything right this time, huh?” mingi went back to the previous and more important topic

san nodded, “he has the list too, we all know what happens when its all checked off.”

the three nodded.

“do you think they’re ready for that?” jongho asked, more so in genuine worry for you than him mocking and making fun of you, “if they already agreed to marrying seonghwa, then—“

“that’s the thing, they did,” san looked at him jongho who inhaled a deep breath, shaking his head

“and we of all people know, seonghwa likes to leave out the most important thing until the last minute.”

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roomsofangel · 10 months ago

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CHAPTER FOUR reopening salted wounds .ᐟ

wc 1.1k

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“i’m the last person that wants to hurt you, y/n,” hongjoong leaned himself back on the cushions, “and even then — i’m not considered an option on that list in the slightest,” shaking his head

you looked at him for a moment, his split dyed hair falling in front of his face by a few strands while the rest was tied back in a messy attempt of a manbun, you wanted to believe him, you really did.

but san’s words echoed in your head, the aftertaste was bitter and hongjoong noticed your shift in mood when he cleared his throat, “i was the one who told you that, by the way.”

lifting your head to meet his gaze, you scoffed, “what is it with you deities and mind reading?” laughing softly after

sighing in thought, hongjoong shrugged, “i try not to do it, but i know your brain is also probably running with a lot of questions,” he leans forward and straightens his posture, “and i want to answer as much as i can.”

“when did you tell me those words?” you asked, wanting to know why the intense deja vu was constant after seonghwa came into your life and the others following behind

everything and everyone was familiar — they all knew something but you, it was obvious in the way they spoke and how the three men all said that the answers you craved — they had.

but how did you for sure know when its their words against each others?

hongjoong looked at you for a moment, contemplating many things before extending his hand to get the water he was drinking and pressed it against his lips, “eighteen sixteen,” he voiced, taking a drink before setting it down, trying to read your expressions before continuing, “i told you those words in the year eighteen sixteen.”

seonghwa was losing his mind.

you hadn’t come home and your energy was undetectable for him to find you — it made his blood run cold and if he had a heartbeat, he was sure it would have given out

“no, you can’t,” his voice croaked, hands in front of him as he fell forward onto the the desk with a hoarse throat, “you won’t take them from me again,” grabbing onto one of the books that resided beside him, chucking it at the picture frame that held a painted portrait of himself and the seven others — hongjoong’s side of the frame cracking slightly

echoing sobs, seonghwa was left in his ruins before he heard a door open, head instantly lifting to see you looking back at him with concern

“seonghwa?” you hurried to him, checking to see if he was hurt and it only wounded him more internally

he wanted to ask where you were, who you were with — hands latching onto you, he thought he lost to them again, “y/n, where were you?”

you swallowed, gulping down your fear before you looked at him, seonghwa didn’t want to read your mind this time — he wanted to trust you. he needed to.

“after san talked to me,” you began, his grip tightened onto your bracelet which resulted in you responding with a shaky breath, “i was on my way back home,” you continued

home.

seonghwa looked at you with glossy eyes when you said the words — something small yet meant too much, “and?”

“hongjoong was waiting for me at my car,” you told him and he froze

you didn’t think you could ever feel anything that was negative towards seonghwa at the moment — however, he failed to tell you a lot of things

he wasn’t required to say such immediately after only being with you physically for a week at most, but you needed to know what you were getting yourself into, who gets married to someone they don’t know in any sense of the word?

you, apparently.

“what did he tell you?” he cupped your cheeks and you melted in his touch, his eyes boring into you, you trembled before croaking out sobs

you stayed quiet for a moment before replying, “why didn’t you tell me we did this before?”

“what the fuck did you tell them?” seonghwa’s voice echoed down the halls until it followed with a door being forcibly slammed open, his tall figure making his way to hongjoong who was sitting with mingi and wooyoung

wooyoung gasped, “not even a proper hello?”

hongjoong exchanged glances with mingi before he pulled wooyoung aside to not cause any unnecessary damage to current the situation

but realistically, what is their quarrels without wooyoung’s unwanted input?

“i’m not asking again, hongjoong,” seonghwa said through clenched teeth, “you know i hate asking twice.”

hongjoong slipped off his gloves, making sure to drag it off slowly and holding the eye contact in the process, grinning when he earned the reaction he sought after, seonghwa slamming his fists on the table and knocking off the game of chess they were all playing

“hey! i was winning!” wooyoung whined, mingi standing so he could direct the raven haired man into the other room, his eyes shooting daggers into seonghwa before leaving

“i simply answered their questions,” hongjoong stood, replying nonchalantly while he picked up the chess pieces, seonghwa watching his every move like a predator hunting its prey, “you think you’re the only one with a side to this story?”

humming, hongjoong set the pieces nearby and looked at seonghwa, “we all have a part of this whether you want to admit that to yourself or not,” he shook his head, “history repeats and when y/n meets one of us, the others will fall like dominoes.”

“i won’t let them near y/n again,” seonghwa snarled prompting a loud mocking laugh from hongjoong in response

“are you that dense?” he questioned, “you were the one who brought us back here again,” stepping forward and closer

“i tried to have y/n live this reincarnation as a normal person, none of us plaguing it,” hongjoong continued, his index finger shoving its way to seonghwa’s chest, “they had everything blocked and none of us could seep through, fucks sake, they were my best friend before all of this and i knew i finally had to stop being selfish and let them go,”

seonghwa flinched at the memories before opening his mouth to speak, hongjoong stopped him, “out of my hands, y/n got into that accident, and met jongho again, and thats when things turned,” his voice started softening

“jongho?” seonghwa questioned before the door opened

“no, even better,” a voice echoed off the walls, hongjoong and seonghwa turning to see who it belonged to and scold them for a bad joke

no words were able to come out, yeosang standing at the door with a prideful smile, “hope you didn’t start the y/n reunion without me.”

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roomsofangel · 10 months ago

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CHAPTER SIX

someone, somewhere, somehow .ᐟ

wc 1.4k

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chapter warnings mentions of mental health, san mentions s*icide, san is telling y/n part of his side to their history

this chapter solely surrounds san and y/n!!

you knew it wasn’t a good idea.

everything leading up to this point screamed at you to turn around and hex yourself for even considering this — choi san was not the type you should be messing with right now, but you needed answers.

what did he mean? what was he implying?

something in your bones reassured you that he wouldn’t dare raise a finger on you — you were safe.

though, you had a dagger you stole from seonghwa’s bedroom drawer wrapped and tucked in your boot. better safe than sorry.

seonghwa.

you knew he would be angry with you, envisioning his expressions when you confess your wrongdoing.

but he would understand

he had to. he will.

right?

moving your hair out of your face, you knocked twice — something you and san agreed on to indicate it was you and not someone else, apparently, unsurprisingly — he had a long list of enemies.

the door opened to reveal him, dressed in a black silk button up that had three undone and loosened, his black slim dress pants having the fabric tucked in a bit — your spine shuddered, his eyes half lidded with seduction while his smile grew to show more teeth, “y/n, come in,” voice radiating richness

shaking your head as if it would help erase the thoughts, you walked inside and took in the room, the white walls that had endless oil paintings from different time periods — “beautiful,” you admired before you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, sharply inhaling you turned to face him, chest against chest unaware how truly close you two were, “this visit is strictly for answers, san, not…” your voice weakened when your eyes locked with his

“am i just that alluring?” he teased, “i was taking your jacket off, i thought you were hot because your face was red,” he laughed a bit before gently setting you aside that caused you to stumble a bit, his grip making sure you stayed more in place than you initially would, leading you down the long hallway

sliding your jacket down your tired shoulders, you propped it up on the coat hanger before making any more moves, soaking in all the flashy interior designs san had in his home. it all made sense. the home truly looked as if it belonged to him.

“thirsty?” he asked, breaking the silence, glancing over his shoulder towards you

you respond with a head shake, declining the offer while following him to sit on the loveseat — swallowing your nerves, fingers laced with the strings of your bracelet, “tell me what you were going to before seonghwa kicked you out.”

san’s brow lifted, appearing amused, “how were you so sure i was going to elaborate?”

clearing his throat, he shifted his body to get more comfortable, “your energy recognizes me, doesn’t it?”

off guard, your lips unconsciously parted, unaware that you were only growing inches closer to the man in front of you, “i don’t know what you mean,” hands finding their way to his hardened chest

“if it didn’t, y/n, why are you feeling me up?” his laugh rang through your ears, snapping you out of a drunken stupor and moving away as quick as you fell intoxicated, “you may not remember, but your soul does.”

“enough with the vagueness, san, i came here for more answers.”

this only amused him more it seemed, “so cute, my y/n is seeping through more and more,” his eyes flickered to your lips before back to your doe eyes, “very well, just scoot over,” he clenched his teeth

nodding, you softly apologized and scooted just as told, watching him exhale a deep breath, “do you want to know how we met?”

and again, you nodded.

his face scrunched, eyes flashing through different emotions before he met your gaze, “i can’t give you an exact time period, y/n, but this was your first life, where it all began,” his hands clasped together

“you had these… crazy abilities that made hongjoong drawn to you first,” san made a facial expression to exaggerate the crazy part, “the two of you were inseparable, he introduced you to seonghwa as friends only,” bitterly laughing

“what happened?” you frowned

“believe it or not, i was royalty,” he amused, leaning to the side so he could pull the blanket that hung over the couch, motioning if you wanted to be covered as well, you nodded and the two of you were draped in the soft sheet, nearly forgetting that this wasn’t supposed to be a sleepover with a bedtime story, “we were supposed to marry.”

you looked at him, examining his expressions and all you read was agony, your hands sweated, chest pains running down to your fingertips — looking at him made you feel the pain he possibly felt during the storytelling, “go on,” you quietly encouraged making him softly laugh

“but you loved seonghwa more than you ever did me,” he sighed, “i was the only human in this shitty game of cards, i should’ve known that even if i had the upper hand, he would manage to come in regardless.”

“me and him shared a good fair share of words, some i’m not regretful for, some i am,” he looked at his lap, “but that’s when i met wooyoung, i begged him to help me with you.”

his body tensed, recalling the events leading up to his future demise, “hongjoong found out and it all backfired,” voice cracking, your body immediately went to comfort him and his eyes widened at the action, “i killed myself because i couldn’t handle the pain,” unable to hold in the quiet sobs

“how did you become this?” you asked, holding his head on your chest, hearing the quiet sniffle

“hongjoong saw this as a better punishment — after what i told seonghwa,” he shook his head, nails creating crescent moons on your open palm, “i’ll never admit to this to anyone else, y/n, but,” he shifted his body and cupped your cheeks

your eyes looked into his glossy ones, “i don’t know how to be the person i was back then, all i know is to be the monster hongjoong made me to be,” his voice weakened

“how do i know you’re not trying to make me feel bad for you, san?” you asked him

san stayed quiet, not giving you an answer and instead — you felt the pressure of his lips onto yours, the softness stained with salty tears that had ran down his face, your blood ran cold.

“san…” you whispered against his lips, hands finding their way to rest on his chest, gently pushing him away

you could’ve sworn you watched him go through the five stages of grief — his eyes watching you as if he just processed what he just did, standing on his feet with the blanket falling off of your lap, “y/n, i think you should go.”

“san?” you stood and tried to catch his hand in yours but he retaliated

“go!” his voice echoed off the walls, earning yourself to flinch and step back

and you did.

you made your way down the hall and out the door, allowing yourself to stand outside his front door and stare at the full moon that illuminated the trees.

“what are you doing out here?” an unfamiliar voice spoke, your nose twitching before you turned to face whoever it was coming from the right side of you

the male had what seemed to be freshly dyed red hair, his gaze intensely stuck on you before his expression turned from cold to soft, almost as if he had just finished processing that it was you

“y/n?” he questioned

you nodded in response, wiping the tears with your sleeve that managed to escape

the male in front of you looked at the large home and then back at you, as if he was trying to connect dots before sighing, “i’m wooyoung,” he introduced himself

“let’s get you home to seonghwa, okay?” his hand extended for you to take, and you looked at him for a moment

exhausted, you took his hand and walked with him to the vehicle he had, “weren’t you visiting san?” you questioned

“he can wait, he sees me all the time,” he laughed, not making any form of eye contact or even bothering to look at you, letting you get in his car first before looking behind him to the house, shaking his head and getting in himself

the two of you sat in silence, wooyoung starting the car and all that filled the air was the quiet music he had playing, “don’t worry, y/n,” he spoke

turning to glance at him, head leaning on the window, you watched him stare ahead, index finger tapping on the steering wheel, “i won’t tell seonghwa you were here.”

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honey-lemon-goose · 2 years ago

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'How could you run into the arms that put you in harms way?' SEE HWA KNEW!!!😔 (or now knows) 'his eyes screamed of something you could recall as despair — desperate for an ending, he was tired.' NOT Wooyoung😭 “he was desperate for love and specifically from you.” smh did San make Woo make y/n fall in love with San for one of their lifes🤦‍♀️😔 “i just wanted to tell you, give a heads up,” SO far I'm really trusting Hongjoong and Wooyoung event though I feel like I shouldn't, for Wooyoung that is. “i don’t know if i like it yet, but it’s not a bad feeling,” he briefed, finishing the last dish, “i just… want this with someone in particular..” AHHHHH AKWNKSNS WOO JUST WANTA TO BE WITH SAN BUT SAN IS TOO HUNG UP ON Y/N AND WOO JUAT KEEPS HELPING HIM OML😭 NVM I LOVE WOOYOUNG OML POOR BBY🥹💛 “anything is better than being alone again, y/n.” THIS MAN has gone through it😭🤧 “y/n, you have explaining to do.” Oop🫣🫢

CHAPTER SEVEN — THE ACT OF HOLDING ON AND LETTING GO

lavender blood || park seonghwa

pairing: gn!reader x god of death!seonghwa

word count: 1,312

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chapter warnings: metaphor of torture. hint/talk of depression and suicidal ideation without it fully being expressed outright. y/n learns their feelings were manipulated at one point.

other: with the further we get into this — the more warnings that will be more prominent — the lore and y/n uncovering everything alongside the way they all handle / go about things aren’t exactly what a healthy person would immediately go towards. ( and maybe, that one line you read in a previous chapter that didn’t seem like much, was actually a key thing for a later time x )

a/n: thank you to all those who have been reading and keeping up with lavender blood — it truly means the world! i feel as if i don’t say it enough but i think about it a lot when seeing the reblogs, notes, asks, comments, etc!

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#lavender blood || park seonghwa #park seonghwa au #ateez #park seonghwa #park seonghwa fic #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #🍯🍋recs #LB Wooyoung has just made number 1 best boy in my heart🥹💛#man is just trying to love someone who doesn't see him😭#im happy y/n is going out and getting the answers for themselves and outting together what happened #Hwa must have done something that if y/n finds out they wont want to see him again #and thats why he isnt helping!?🤔 or Hwa is just dumb and making it all more complicated than it needs to be #can't wait to see how the others come in to play!!!🤭💛

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roomsofangel · 6 months ago

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CHAPTER EIGHT

nothing is alright .ᐟ

wc 1.8k

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he wouldn’t look at you.

the tension was suffocating and he hadn’t said a word in the hiatus of silence. the two of you sat beside each other — you can tell he was trying to collect his thoughts.

seonghwa’s fingertips tapped the wooden surface, creating an unintentional rhythm that matched the tempo of your heart, you inhaled a deep breath before deciding to take the leap, “are you going to talk to me?”

you turned to glance at him, his shoulders sulking as if he had just been scolded before they lifted again, still not facing directly towards you. he hummed first.

“why?”

that’s all he could muster up without wanting to make you feel as if you were being trialed at court. swallowing his saliva, he closed his eyes for a few seconds, almost preparing himself before he turned to look at you with a hardened gaze.

a gaze that quickly faltered as soon as your eyes locked.

your nails began to sink into the fabric of your clothes, shaking your head. it was your turn now.

“you know more than you lead on, seonghwa,” you began, rolling your shoulders back to release tension, your side profile more prominent to facing him now while you collected yourself internally. “it’s obvious you do.”

tensing at his cold temperature on your contrasting skin, his grasp on you was gentle, not wanting to scare you as he quietly pleaded for you to look at him. you obliged.

“what did you and san talk about?”

and you didn’t mean to snap, but you were growing agitated. if this was your final life, it was starting to show more with how thin your patience was running. taking the hand he had on your thigh as a way to comfort, you moved it away in a haste. “did i even mention san? this isn’t about him, this is about you and me.”

while he took a moment to register what you had said, you dove in again without warning, “this is about what you’re withholding from me and if you can’t tell me then—“

and you swore you never seen such terror in seonghwa’s eyes, his head snapping up and his body moving instantly to hold onto you closer as if he was scared you would fade away, “no!” he shouted and your eyes shut, flinching at the loudness in your ears

“please, y/n, i’ll tell you everything soon, i promise,” he rushed through his words and you sighed.

“when is soon?” you questioned.

and the silence that held the two of you, made you more vulnerable and eager to dig deeper.

especially when seonghwa forgot to mention that there was going to be a last minute visitor.

“how do you like your tea?”

an odd question that made your right brow perk up in question, yet seonghwa’s face grew paler than he was already from the sudden company, his hand finding its way to your hips to have a protective hold — you watched the man you learned to go by the name, yeosang, sat criss crossed on the loveseat with a glass teacup in his grasp with a smile, “two sugars? do you add anything else?” he hummed, and you observed. “or do you prefer bitter?” the gaze he shifted briefly to seonghwa didn’t go unnoticed.

amused, yeosang shifted his body, “all this talk makes me want another glass, hwa, be a dear?” his voice mockingly higher with a grin on his face, it was more than obvious he was testing each and every limit — with a huff seonghwa loosened his hands from your body, whispering a soft ‘don’t trust him’ into your ear that earned goosebumps to arise on your bare skin, before he took the cup from yeosang with bitter mutters and walked into the kitchen

“now, we’re alone,” yeosang prompted, leaning his back onto the cushions, allowing his legs to shift and dangle off the couch, manspreading as he thought to himself, “ah, you don’t remember me, i forgot—“ he amused

“what did you mean?” you skipped over his attempt at whatever he was trying to do, curious on the metaphors of tea and with the way his eyes lit up with mischief only chilled your spine, “about the tea.”

humming in response at first, yeosang pressed his lips together, “ask me, y/n, how i like my tea,” his hand motioned for you to speak, prompting you to speak as you inhaled deeply, feeling your chest cave in for a minute before shakily exhaling through your lips

“how do you like your tea, yeosang?”

his smile grew, “glad you asked, y/n.”

“i like mine in varieties, the brand is always important,” he began, “i’ve had very, very sweetened tea that is overly too much for my tastebuds,” he let out a dramatic sigh, using his hands to animate a bow and arrow, and he just shot one — this struck something in you.

but you let him continue.

“i’ve had bitter, nearly tasted like death.” he amused, his eyes glancing to where seonghwa had gone before he stopped and paused, “and i had tea that was just right.”

“though, you seem to be everyone’s cup lately, hmm?” he briefed

“excuse me?” you were taken aback.

before he could respond, seonghwa’s timing was almost planned in your head, the way it was so convenient. your eyes followed your lover’s figure and how he glared into yeosang’s vessel, setting the cup in front of the blonde, “hope it’s not too deathly bitter.” he scoffed.

“oh, hwa, you always knew how to make tea~” yeosang’s gaze was just an intense, you were convinced if you didn’t say something the two would start a quarrel, so you coughed to clear your throat and it seemed to briefly get their attention to sway for a second

a second.

due to the fact there was a knock on the door and yeosang seemed to be having the time of his life when he heard it, seonghwa only growing more cold in his expressions, “hope you don’t mind, y/n,” yeosang turned to you, ignoring the seething deity in front of him

“i invited an old friend who would love to say hi again.”

the door agonizingly creaked open, your shoulders rising up to your ears while your nose twitched when your breath hitched into your throat hearing footsteps behind you, a cough erupting to indicate someone was making themselves known. another presence.

“i hope you don’t mind, of course,” yeosang’s voice rung through the room again, taunting more so towards seonghwa who sat beside you, his fists clenched together and knuckles turning white meanwhile yeosang had aimed a reassuring smile when he managed to catch your gaze, “this is yunho.”

and the name made your lungs collapse, a soft wheeze escaping your slightly trembling lips — why were you reacting this way? you could’ve sworn your heart was in someone’s hands, being ripped and played with as foul play. yunhoyunhoyunhyunh—

the glance you stole from seonghwa, his jaw clenched and the vein bulging in his neck from restraining whatever it was he was feeling inside. you assumed nothing pleasent.

finally, you turned around.

when your eyes locked with yunho’s brown ones, everything around the two of you was nonexistent. your limbs felt heavy, the urge to sob was stuck in your throat and you didn’t know fully what to do, “yunho,” even the way you said his name tasted and sounded bittersweet.

“y/n,” yunho smiled, warm and inviting, despite his energy and the emotional flashbacks he radiated making you nauseous, “it’s really you.”

you nodded, and the tension was enough for yeosang to clear his throat and clap his hands together with a small smile, “beautiful reunion! how about we make some more tea,” yeosang turned to seonghwa who only glared in silence for a moment, “why don’t we leave our eclipse twins here while we go and brew up some more?”

“what kind of nickname is that?” seonghwa scoffed, standing on his feet before he met your gaze, his eyes begging you to ask him to stay but when you glanced back at yunho and yeosang — all you had was getting any crumb of more answers that seonghwa was failing to give you. he took your silence as an answer, his palm gently caressing your cheek and you cursed the way you melted in his touch after the dishonesty he needed to still correct,

“i won’t be long.” he whispered, his gaze never leaving until you nodded your head in response, almost as if he was seeking out your permission before he let out a soft sigh, following alongside yeosang who smiled towards you and yunho

the silence was unbearble. your skin was crawling and goosebumps formed on your arms. leaning into your own space more, you listened to yunho’s words after he took a seat in the armrest not too far from beside you, with apprehension,

“i know how you’re feeling right now, y/n,” his tone and overall voice was soft, eyes glued to his hands that were littered in small scars and two golden rings that decorated both of his ring fingers. this wasn’t his usual demeanor — soft and gentle, and you froze more. breath caught in your throat because how the hell would you know how he usually was like?

from the corner of your eye, you watched yunho shift in his seat, the confidence he radiated, lacking in his outer appearance at this very moment, you gave him the opportunity to keep going if he intended — yunho took the hint and did so, “deites are only aware of emotions, we aren’t empaths,” he attempted to amuse before shaking his head, “i’m saying i know how you feel because i feel it too, we have unfinished business.”

yeosang leaned against dip of the kitchen counters, mocking seonghwa with a grin while the taller male hovered over him, hands fisting the soft fabric of his shirt while he laughed quietly, only to mock the situation more, “why so tense, hwa?”

“quit the bullshit, yeosang.” seonghwa said through clenched teeth, letting the other go with a huff of air escaping from him when his back hit the drawers, “i don’t fucking know what game you’re playing but-“

yeosang interrupted with a laugh, “game?” he mimicked an offended expression, hand to his chest while he clicked his tongue, “i’m just helping with speeding up the process.”

“what process, yeosang?” seonghwa took a few steps back, turning to face the doorway that lead into the room you were in with yunho, his heart aching with dread

hearing the sound of glass being moved and clinked together, yeosang focused on setting his makeshift tea party up first much to seonghwa’s seething dismay, before he replied with a grin, “ask wooyoung.”

and seonghwa stiffened,

knowing fully there will always be someone to blame — and deep down, at the end of nightfall, seonghwa knew he’d break his own finger to make sure none were pointed at him.

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