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wingsofkpop · 5 years ago

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Hiraeth - I.I: Stay

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature languages, descriptions of death and murder, violence, graphic depictions of fighting, blood and gore, mentions of traumatic experiences, etc.

word count: 6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?...

chapter directory

Once upon a time there was a lone seamstress who lived inside a little house in the woods. Few knew of her existence, and even fewer knew of her name, for outside the safety of the forest, the world and its inhabitants were cruel and corrupt. To relieve the weight of her loneliness, the seamstress sat on her roof every night to speak to the moon as it traveled across the black sky. She spoke to the moon about everything, from the rushing of the river current after a spell of rain to the plumpness of the round, ripe peaches that arrived in the summer, and when she ran out of elements of reality, she turned to ones of fantasy instead. She told the moon stories of massive dragons who breathed butterflies with wings of jewels instead of fire and planets where the seas were composed of golden honey and tall mountains of glass.

The moon fell in love with the seamstress and her fairy tales, for she was just as keen for a companion. She loved the seamstress so much that one night per cycle, when the ocean tides were at their lowest, she would leave her nightly perch and join the seamstress on her roof. No one knew of the true nature of their relationship, whether they were friends, lovers, soulmates, but that did not matter, for the moon loved the seamstress, and the seamstress loved the moon in return.

In order to show her love, the moon gifted the seamstress one of her brightest stars from the night sky. Upon consuming the star, the seamstress was blessed with abilities beyond imaginable: Gifts to heal creatures long past the point of decay. Talents in skill, wit and knowledge that surpassed the most brilliant scholars. And most notably, the miracle of eternal life.

Outsiders soon caught word of the immortal seamstress who lived in the little house in the wood, and some sought to steal her and the moon’s power for their own gain. On a night when the moon was at its fullest, a band of malicious villagers stormed the seamstress’s home right on the very roof where she sat. The moon, unable to intervene, watched the villagers kill the one she loved. In a final attempt to best the attackers, the moon shattered the seamstress’s soul into pieces, which had become one with the star, and scattered them across the world. To this day, the ruins of the seamstress’s house still stands deep within the forests of time. On nights when the moon disappears from the night sky, some say that if one listens close enough, sobs and wails can be heard from the roof of the little home where the moon mourns her lost companion.

Many have tried, but it is impossible to gather enough shards of the seamstress’s spirit to recreate the full power of the gifted star. It is said a piece of her soul resides inside all of us. Though in some, the magic is more prominent than others…

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—and then she started getting all defensive over it.” You hold back a sigh at Jihyo’s huff, not desiring to make your roommate and close friend aware that her over-the-phone rant is draining what little sanity remains within your mind. To be honest, you actually lost track of the conversation a couple blocks back, and have little clue over who she’s complaining about. Probably yet another one of Sana’s douchebag crushes “Like, I get you like him and all, but the dude’s literally an asshole. I mean, he’s stood her up how many goddamn times, and not to mention, the whole thing with Chaeyoung—

“(Y/N)? Are you even listening?” You immediately snap from whatever headspace your consciousness slipped into at the change in Jihyo’s tone. Your hand raises to wipe the drowsiness of a twelve-plus-hour day from your eyes as you speak for the first time since you left the university:

“Not really, honestly.” You finally release the breath in your lungs, “It’s… It’s been a long day.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jihyo scolds, “You know you’re free to hang up on me anytime I get too fired up. Or at least snap me out of it.”

“I know,” You peer at both sides of the street before making your way across, pulling your jacket tighter around your body to fight the chilly, night air. “Like I said, it’s just been a long day.”

“You can tell me all about it over some take-out, sound good?”

“Sounds great. I haven’t eaten much today.”

Jihyo’s grumble emerges over the line, earning an amused chuckle from your own chest. You can hear her yell something to most likely Sana, your other roommate, in the background before returning with yet another scold, “You’re in serious trouble now, (Y/N) (L/N). What have we said about skipping meals?”

“I was busy today!” You protest, unable to hold back the smile that spreads along your lips at your friend’s mother-like nagging.

“That is no excuse!” A couple muffled sounds carry over the line, along with a hushed, inaudible conversation between Jihyo and another person. You cross another street and round the corner, preparing to cut through your usual shortcut to your apartment building, when Jihyo finally returns, “I hope you’re okay with Thai because apparently Sana’s going to die if she doesn’t get her Mango Sticky Rice...”

“I’m okay with that. You know my usual?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

You chuckle, “Fair enough. I’ve got maybe another ten minutes until I’m home. Try not to let Sana eat all the food before I get there.”

“No promises. See you soon, babe.”

You hum a wordless farewell in response before lowering your phone from your ear to end the call. Without the buzz of the line and your friend’s voice to fill the silence, you finally notice how quiet and empty the streets seem. During the hours of the day, the town is usually packed with people meandering out and about in the bay’s usual nice weather. Without the sunshine, however, the nights can get rather cold, and by missing your bus, you’re experiencing that fact firsthand.

You can feel goosebumps emerging across your skin underneath your clothing as you traverse further down the path, a flickering, lone streetlamp your only guide through the darkness. The alleyway in which you usually cut through gapes on your left, but before you enter the narrow passage, you pause to peer over your shoulder. While it wouldn’t be the first time your paranoia has emerged for little reason, considering your track record of life experiences, the sight of shadows and stillness does nothing to ease the eerie sensations creeping along the back of your neck.

Passing the strange feeling off to the cold, you finally step into the pitch black of the alleyway, taking quicker and longer steps out of pure instinct. You pilfer through your bag, wanting to find your phone again to light your path, but as per usual, it seems to have dropped to the very bottom of the bag’s contents. A silent groan rumbles from your chest at the discovery that you’ll have to continue through the dark, or at least until you reach the opposite end of the alley. Hopefully there’s no rats or bats or—

Your entire body jumps at a loud clatter that sounds from behind. You quickly pivot on your heel to investigate the sudden noise, finding nothing but darkness, darkness and more darkness.

“H-Hello?” Your call bounces between the brick walls of the alleyway, echoing back inside your ears. You swallow, with your throat as tight as your chest, and call again. The only sound that answers is the violent racing of your pulse and your shaky breaths. Clutching your bag closer to your chest, you begin to walk backwards while keeping your eyes trained toward the entrance you only moments before came through. The idea seems ideal, that is, until your foot catches a divot and your form collapses onto the pavement.

It takes you a moment to recover from the fall, but you’re quick to grab one of the stiletto heels from your foot and arm yourself with as best a means of defense as you can manage. You carefully rise, shuddering as another clatter sounds from somewhere in the alley. Your eyes dart through the darkness, searching for a shadow that moves more than the rest. After maybe another minute of silence, with your makeshift weapon still in hand, you rush toward the exit of the passageway.

A breath of relief leaves your lips as you enter a level of light where your hand is no longer a silhouette in front of your face. Using the lamp post as support, you reach down to grab the second heel from your other foot and toss it inside your bag while its twin remains prepped just in case. You can survive walking the last three minutes to your building barefoot. All else be damned.

Just as you’re about to resume your walk home, something grabs the back of your scalp, and using the roots of your hair as assistance, yanks you back into the dark alleyway. You immediately fight back, swinging your arm as hard as you can to stab the assailant with your heel. Obviously taken off guard, the figure surrenders its hold on your hair and provides the opportunity for you to stab him again. It releases a blend of something between a groan and a growl, grabs your wrist and quite literally, launches you deeper into the darkness.

Your body connects with a brick wall with a violent thud, stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs. You try to clamber to your hands and knees, but your right arm throbs and goes completely limp at the movement. You curse at the broken bone, but still manage to bring yourself to stand. No sooner are you on your feet, the figure, who you briefly forgot about, shoves and pins your back against the wall with a hand around your throat.

“G-get off…!” You sputter, using your good arm to claw at its face. With speed and strength that’s mostly definitely not human, it keeps your flailing body pressed against the brick surface, yanks your arm out of the way and harshly tilts your head to the side. A loud scream sounds from your lips as binding pain erupts from your neck. Warm blood slips down your flesh like raindrops, staining the collar of your shirt crimson red. The pain is so fierce, it disorients your mind and numbs the remainder of your physical strength, leaving no room for you to fight back any longer.

Your vision begins to grow blurry, partly from tears and partly from the painful fogginess exhausting your brain. For a moment, you wonder what will kill you first: The blood loss, the excruciating pain, or the knowledge that your life in itself is slowly slipping from your fingertips.

You are going to die. The thought repeats itself like a broken record on repeat. You are going to die without seeing your students again. You are going to die without seeing Jihyo and Sana and all your friends again. You are going to die right here, in this dark alley, from a brutal monster that came straight out of hell.

Just when you’re on the cusp between consciousness and unconsciousness, the figure is torn away, leaving your body to collapse to the ground. Muffled sounds of what seem to be barbaric snarls and roars spill into your ears, followed by the obvious snaps of breaking bones. Through the pitch black, you can almost make out a human-like silhouette approaching your grounded figure.

The last thing you remember before you slip underneath the waves of exhaustion is the gentle touch of bloody hands and a soft murmur of your name.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Familiar faces mill about the confines of the graveyard, some as bystanders, whispering rumors behind yellow-taped borders, and some as pursuers, tiptoeing around the grounds as if one wrong step will shatter the tense atmosphere like glass. From his perch leaning against a nearby tree, Mark watches the coroner zip up the black body bag with a blank expression set across his features, contradicting the cloud of sorrow suffocating the means of his soul. Even with the corpse out of sight, he can remember her face—the still-rosy cheeks, the icy touch of fingertips, the unseeing eyes…

The coroner rises to his feet, shaking his head before turning to speak to the town sheriff beside him. Mark continues to observe as both investigators engage in a brief conversation. As if sensing his gaze, they simultaneously turn to peer his way. Mark quickly turns his eyes elsewhere and abandons his post. He heads in the direction of the crypt, attempting to push the persistent, vulgar images out of mind.

“Mark! Hang on!” His steps halt at the frenzied call of the sheriff, providing the opportunity for the older woman to approach. She offers him an apologetic smile and an affectionate pat on his forearm. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you anymore questions.”

“Good. Don’t think I have anything much else to say.” The sheriff doesn’t reply to his weak attempt at humor, instead mapping out the very extent of his face. Trying his hardest to keep his features neutral, Mark stares right back at the female officer—the last thing he needs is to break down right then and there.

After another moment of silence passes, the sheriff finally speaks, “How are you doing, Mark? Really?”

“How do you think I’m doing, sheriff?” Mark releases a sigh, “One of my friends is dead.”

“I know.” She also expels a deep breath, running a hand through her long, brunette tresses. Her grip stiffens just slightly, enough to be able to feel her skin trembling against his. “I wish I could say something to make it better, but I can’t believe it myself—” She chuckles scornfully, “Do you have any idea who—or what, would do this?”

“We’re trying to figure that out.” Mark replies, “Some of us are… taking it pretty hard.”

“Until then, you and everyone else have to be careful.”

Mark shakes his head, “Sheriff—”

“I mean it, Mark,” The sheriff squeezes his arm so tight that Mark wonders if it will bruise. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing, and they knew what she was. Promise me that you’ll keep on your toes?” Flashes of her lifeless body overtake the forefronts of his brain even before he can help it. He hates how his stomach twists at the memory of that foreboding symbol carved into his chest—right next to the confines from where her heart was torn.

“I promise.”

“Good.” A breath that Mark didn’t even know he was holding escapes his lungs as the sheriff removes her hand. “Let me know if you find anything. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks, sheriff.” The sheriff doesn’t say another word, only lays one final pat on Mark’s shoulder before taking off after a group of officers hauling the body bag into the back of a large van. Mark watches as she goes, unable to shake off the feeling of her quivering fingers until she’s out of sight.

Ignoring the staff mopping the blood-stained gravel pathways, Mark resumes his journey up the steps and inside the tall, white-marbled mausoleum. To anyone on the outside, the structure just seems like a normal place to house a passed loved one, but to the specific few, it’s so much more. The coziness of the inside somewhat eases the anxiety flowing through his veins, welcoming the warmth the flames in the fireplace provide. He gazes around the one-room building, past towering bookshelves stuffed with ancient grimoires and cabinets lined with jared materials of all kinds, until his eyes settle on a second figure standing at the lectern placed in the center of the room, flipping through the yellowed pages of a ragged book.

“Any luck?” Mark asks, making his way through the cluttered space beside his busy companion. Youngjae glances up from the tome that’s pretty much falling apart, and sullenly shakes his head.

“Nothing. I tried to track her blood—” Youngjae gestures to a map on a nearby table, its surface decorated with spreading crimson lines and swirls, “—but it’s weird. The trail doesn’t go anywhere. It just…doesn’t stop.”

“What about that mark? Anything on that?”

“I’ve gone through everything we have on runes, symbolism, hieroglyphics, but there’s nothing that even remotely resembles what was on her chest.” Youngjae pauses, hesitant to speak the words on the tip of his tongue, but with a glance at Mark, he continues, “...It’s like whoever, or whatever killed her doesn’t exist, hyung. There’s literally nothing.”

“Shit—” Mark curses, pinching the bridge of his nose with a huff, “There can’t just be nothing! There has to be something—!”

Youngjae shakes his head, “I don’t know what to tell you…” The younger watches as Mark picks up his book. He flips through a few pages before slamming the cover shut with more force than necessary. A moment of silence aside from the sounds of their breathing passes until it is broken by Mark’s yell as he launches the text across the room, knocking over a collection of stacked artifacts.

“Hyung—”

“One of our people is dead, Youngjae!” Youngjae flinches at the elder’s harsh tone, watching helplessly as he shoves a pile of grimoires across the mausoleum floor. “And we have no fucking clue who killed her and why they did it! What if they come back, huh!? What if they come for you next!? Or Lia!? Or Jisung or—” Mark’s angered tangent falls quiet at the shrill call of a cell ringtone. Mark retracts his phone from his pocket, and with a composed sigh, answers the device and lifts it to his ear.

Youngjae watches Mark’s face carefully as it shifts from annoyance to confusion to absolute anguish. He tries to inquire about the subject of the phone call, but Mark only lifts his finger in warning. After a couple cool replies, Mark mumbles a less-than-pleasant farewell and disconnects the line. One of his hands lift to push back the strands of his dark hair while the other frantically reaches for his jacket:

“(Y/N)’s in the hospital. Fuck, I have to—”

“Go, hyung.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll see if I can find anything else.”

Mark’s composure softens. Guilt begins to flow through his veins as he recalls the harsh tone he previously directed at his younger companion. Guided by his emotions, Mark reaches forward to squeeze at Youngjae’s bicep, similar to the sheriff’s actions minutes before. He murmurs, “Thank you, Youngjae.” Youngjae only nods, bending down to begin clearing the remnants of Mark’s wrath as said figure heads out the door.

The forensic team is still cleaning the blood as Mark makes his way toward the exit of the graveyard.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The first color you see when you open your eyes is white, playing more into your assumptions that you’re currently in the beginning stage of the afterlife. As more and more of your consciousness and common sense return to your brain, the puzzle pieces of the strange situation slowly begin to slide into place. You’re not floating in a cloud at all—but in fact, laying on the most uncomfortable bed known to man. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as to collect more clues to your surroundings.

A soft murmur of your name and set of hands on your shoulders takes you completely off guard. Immediately, memories of your encounter with the violent creature invade your brain like water to dry soil. You flail your limbs wildly, attempting to defend yourself against the unknown figure with each kick and punch.

“(Y/N), hey! Calm down!” The stranger seizes your wrists before you can knock his eye out, tugging your arms to rest on your lap. It’s painfully aware that his strength outmatches your own, so you make no other attempts to use force—also partly due to the gentle tone of his voice. You allow the stranger to guide your upper body back to lay down on the bed, using the opportunity to peek at his face:

The man is despicably handsome to the point his features seem to be sculpted by the gods themselves. His face is long, with a jawline that is sharp enough to slice your finger if you were to reach up and touch the structure. You can’t tell which is more alluring, between his dark, almond-shaped eyes, or his full, rose lips. Then again, the jet black, fluffy hair atop his head is also a close third…or the milky canvas of his strong neck—

“...(Y/N)?” When the stranger speaks again, you notice a strange lilt to his voice, almost like an accent of some sorts. But like the figure himself, you can’t place where you’ve heard such a figment of speech. “...Can you understand me?”

“I’d hope so.” You murmur blankly, “What am I? A fucking alien?”

The stranger’s lips curl in amusement at your retort. He pulls a lone chair closer to your bedside, not once breaking his gaze from your own. You ignore the strange shivers that crawl down your spine as he takes a seat, leaning forward to rest his forearms atop the edge of your mattress. Through the corner of your eye, you notice the multitude of wires connecting your arm to the machines stationed on the opposite end of the bed—so you’re not dead. What a relief.

“You’re in the hospital—”

“Figured that out already, pal.” You sigh, rolling your head back into the pillows and allowing your eyes to slip shut. The act does little to calm the storm occurring inside your mind, so frustratedly, you open them again and instead, peer at your unfamiliar companion with a raised eyebrow, “Pardon my French, but who the fuck are you and why are you here?”

Before the stranger can settle the confusion bubbling through your entire body, a knock sounds from the door a few feet away. It slides open to reveal a woman in a white coat with a clipboard and pen in hand. With a sweet smile across her face, the doctor enters the room to approach your position on the bed.

She outstretches a hand, “Hi, (Y/N). I’m Dr. Yoo Jeongyeon. I heard you had a pretty rough night.” Too lost inside bewilderment, you accept her formal greeting without saying a word. Dr. Yoo pays no mind to your silence, instead checking the machines at your bedside. “You should be glad Jinyoung found and brought you here.” She finishes recording the results of the pacemaker before requesting you to sit up for a moment. You do so, looking straight ahead as she checks your eyes. “You suffered a nasty concussion—” She switches off the light, “—so how do you feel?”

“I feel…” Your voice fades before you can give a complete answer. It’s not that it wasn’t an easy question—it’s the fact that right now, you feel great… The best you’ve felt in the past couple years as a matter of fact! But that doesn’t make any sense, especially with what you remember from the alleyway. There was blood… and you’re pretty sure your arm was broken too…

“It’s okay to be a little out of sorts. Especially after hitting your head and knocking yourself out.” Dr. Yoo assures, marking something down on her clipboard before nodding, “Everything looks great, but we’re going to keep you here for the rest of the night just as a precaution. You’re free to go home first thing in the morning.”

“Wait, I swear I—”

“Please let one of the nurses know if you need anything else. I’ll see you in the morning.” You watch as Dr. Yoo bids both you, and the man called Jinyoung, a brief goodnight and exits out the same door she came through only minutes ago, leaving your thoughts swirling with even more questions than before.

You shake your head, “I didn’t fall though. I was attacked.”

“Like she said, you hit your head pretty hard.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Your memory is probably a bit off.”

“That’s not—no.” His face grows visibly surprised at the drop in your tone, but still retains his usual neutral aura. “I know what I saw.”

Jinyoung releases a heavy, almost annoyed breath before climbing to his feet. More shivers attack your helpless body as he leans forward, diminishing the distance between the two of you until his nose is only centimeters from brushing your own. You can taste the mint of his breath as he speaks. Calm, collected, and slow:

“You fell and hit your head. Nothing else happened.” Amongst his strange words, you can’t help but notice the rather unusual behavior of his eyes. The ring of his chocolate, brown irises disappears as his pupil grows three times its normal size before shrinking down to a nonexistent dot—you don’t like the familiar ghost of paranoia breathing down the back of your neck.

“What the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

For the first time, actual emotion lifts to Jinyoung’s face in the form of pure disorientation. He lurches backward, as if finally realizing how uncomfortably narrow the distance was between the two of you, and clears his throat. Although it’s probably a trick against the bright, alabaster background, you swear you saw his eyes once again flash to black.

“Nothing. It’s the lighting.” He manages to get over his confused state, or mask it beneath another layer of vacancy, before awkwardly gesturing to your cell phone on the bedside table. “I called your friend, Mark. He was the first contact on your list, so I just thought…”

“That’s… really nice of you.”

“He should be arriving soon…” Jinyoung, once again, stiffly points in the direction of the closed door. “I should wait outside to make sure he finds your room…” He hurries to the doorway, eager to be rid of the tension lingering between the two of your forms, and peers over his shoulder to nod, “I hope you have a goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Jinyoung, wait—” You hurry to sit up, hoping to catch your mysterious savior before he disappears from the room. Thankfully, Jinyoung, with one foot out the door, pauses at your command. This time, he does not turn to meet your gaze—and you curse the longing that sparks in your gut because of it.

“Thanks for… bringing me here, I guess.” Your cheeks burn as you say the words out loud, wondering if Jinyoung can hear the slight waver to your tone. You expect the stranger to nod his head, like before, and high tail out of your sight, but as always, Jinyoung does what you least expect: He turns around and delivers a tight-lipped, but surprisingly sweet smile.

“You’re welcome.” His response makes your insides flutter, “I… I hope to see you again soon.” Jinyoung doesn’t give you the chance to return the conversation, and with one final glance, vanishes through the hospital doorway. Even with his presence gone, your body thrums with the remnants of his aura. Partly because of the lingering aftertaste of his charming presence:

—And partly because of the apprehensive feeling in your gut that grows the more you dwell on the abnormality of his gaze.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung never meant for the night to turn out like this. He only wanted to get out of the manor—well, get away from his brother before he broke his neck. Literally. Jinyoung never meant to catch your scent during his midnight stroll, nor eventually find you in that alleyway, where he watched as you bravely attempted to fight off that crazed, bloodthirsty fledgling with nothing but a single shoe. The logical part of his brain initially forbode his intervention, but watching how you fought that vampire awoke the remaining human component inside his soul.

—He realized that he couldn’t let you die.

So against his better judgement, Jinyoung saved your life… and now he’s paying the price.

“You better have a damn good explanation or I’ll hex you into the next fucking century.” Jinyoung waits patiently as Mark exits the hospital elevator, barely flinching as he shoves his body against the nearest wall. Ignoring the pure rage wafting off of the witch’s body like a Spring scent, Jinyoung raises his arms and replies coolly:

“Please take your hands off of me.”

“Not until you explain to how (Y/N) was almost killed by a fucking bloodsucker.” Mark tightens his hold on Jinyoung’s collar, pressing him further into the surface of the wall. “If this is because of your douchebag brother, then I swear—”

“I already told you that Jaebeom cannot turn other vampires.” He pushes Mark’s body with just enough force to free himself from his hold. “And so help me, if you try to go after my family again, I’ll kill you and your pathetic minions.”

Mark scoffs, “Just because you can’t be killed doesn’t mean you’re invincible.” Jinyoung quickly bites his tongue to hold back his retort and inhales a deep breath to calm the frustration brewing through his veins. His mind, against his own will, conjures up the memory of you sitting and staring at him from the hospital bed. Just the image of your bright, fire-lit eyes eases the tension from his shoulders, washing away whatever anger remained inside his gut.

Jinyoung sighs and changes the topic, “(Y/N) is fine. After I killed him, I fed her my blood—”

“Oh, fucking hell—” Mark curses, burying his face in his palms. “Yeah, everything is just peachy.”

“It was either that, or she die from blood loss. Take your pick.”

“We had a deal,” The witch begins, “The coven, the pack and the league would allow you and your brother to stay in town as long as no other bloodsuckers make an appearance—“

“I can’t keep count of every vampire that comes into town,” Jinyoung replies truthfully. “Last I checked, that’s your seer’s job.” He takes note of the painful expression that overtakes Mark’s face, replacing his frustrated tone with one of concern, “What happened?”

“Nayeon is dead.” He feels an imaginary punch sink into his gut at Mark’s sullen answer. “She was killed a couple hours ago.”

“Killed? By what?”

“That’s what we were trying to figure out when I got your goddamn call.”

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m sor—”

“Save it.” Mark finishes just as a couple of chatting nurses clad in sky blue scrubs turn the corner and stop in front of the elevator. Both him and Jinyoung offer the hospital staff polite smiles, waiting a couple breaths for the metal doors to slide open and the passersby to enter. Only when the doors shut and the elevator dings, is when Mark continues: “Where is she?”

“Room 116. I told her I called you.” Jinyoung quickly moves forward as Mark tries to push past him, blocking the doorway so he can’t pass. “Hang on—”

“We’re done talking—”

“She can’t be compelled.” Jinyoung ignores how Mark tries to shove him aside, keeping his body rigid and exactly in place.

Mark rolls his eyes, “Well, no shit. I gave her a ring infused with vervain—”

“She wasn’t wearing it,” Jinyoung insists, “And her blood is clean. You know what that means.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” A couple surrounding bystanders curiously glance their way at Mark’s hiss. The witch releases a heavy breath before dragging Jinyoung to a more inconspicuous corner of the hallway. His voice is quieter when he speaks, “Look, I know this girl. There’s no way in hell she's anything remotely supernatural.”

“Then explain how she can’t be compelled by a Prime Vampire.” Jinyoung argues, narrowing his eyes as Mark scoffs and turns to begin the journey to your room. He purses his lips before calling out, “I know you feel it too.” Mark freezes, but doesn’t say a word. Jinyoung takes his silence as a means to continue, “—that rush you feel whenever she’s around… like you’re the most powerful being in the world.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mark replies before peering over his shoulder to shoot Jinyoung a stern glare, “Stay the hell away from her. Or else.” And with that, Jinyoung watches as Mark scurries down the white hallway and disappears around a corner.

Jinyoung releases a sigh, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair. His thoughts are scattered: Stressing about a witch killer lurking around the town… Dreading his future encounter with his ignorant, dastardly counterpart back at the manor… Pondering over the reasons why Mark lied just seconds before…

But most importantly, Jinyoung wonders when he will be able to see you again.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous to see you. Maybe it was the look in Jinyoung’s eyes that has him spooked, or the fact that you can’t be compelled by one of the most powerful vampires in existence. Since you came to Moon Dye Bay, Mark has been able to shield the truth of the monsters that go bump in the night from your innocent eyes—the knowledge of your resistance toward mind compulsion proves that he has to be even more careful… especially with a supernatural murderer in the picture.

He inhales a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the wood of the door. Your gentle call for his entry immediately lifts the heaviness from his chest. With less hesitation than before, Mark opens the obstacle and slips past the doorway into the room, his eyes softening at the sight of your body tucked beneath the sheets of the medical bed.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Mark.” Just the way you say his name spills warmth through his limbs, settling like a warm blanket over his heart. He makes his way to your bed to gather your figure in his arms, appreciating how yours and his bodies fit like puzzle pieces.

He murmurs against the crown of your head, “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly… confused as hell.” Mark pulls back at your weak attempt at a laugh to watch your face instead. His desire to caress the swell of your cheek comes at him so strong that he has to station his hands on your knees as a distraction. “I swear I was attacked by—I don’t even know what—but I don’t even know…”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“I know, I just—don’t understand how things just got so screwed up, you know? I don’t even—Mark, what’s wrong?”

Your question seizes his attention, causing his eyebrows to furrow from confusion. He opens his mouth to inquire about your out-of-the-blue concern, but his words die at the hand that appears on his cheek. He watches in disbelief as you wipe a tear from the edge of his eye, wondering where during the conversation he had begun to cry. Whether it’s the pure compassion in your eyes, or the traumatic encounters throughout the night, Mark doesn’t know… but he allows himself to break down in your hold.

He allows himself to melt into your embrace as you pull him down against your body. He allows the sobs to freely flow from his lips and catch into the crook of your neck. He allows himself to be vulnerable for that one moment… because he can’t show weakness anywhere but with you.

“I… I thought I lost you…” Mark feels your hold tighten at his whisper, “I can’t lose you… Not you…”

“You won’t, Mark…” For a moment, he allows his heart to trick his mind into believing your words meant more than what they’re intended for. Just for a moment, Mark actually convinces himself that here, in your arms, is where he belongs…but he knows it’s far from the truth.

Because even though you may feel like home—Mark can never, truly satisfy his homesickness for you.

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joshpup · 7 years ago

Text

To Love or Not To Love // Pt. 16

Intro // Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 // Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 // Pt. 10 // Pt. 11// Pt. 12 // Pt. 13 // Pt. 14 // Pt. 15 // Pt. 16 // Pt. 17 Word Count: 2,624 Genre: Svt Mafia Au Member: Mingyu TW: same as always Note: im back from the dead, idk how long this kick will last but im going to try and finish this series. also no hard feelings against mx, love that group more than anything, it just fit lol

The day finally came for you to send everyone off on their mission, leaving you behind. Well, to be exact you, Jihoon and Seungkwan would be staying behind. Jihoon was staying behind to hand the electronic side of things from the base, and Seungkwan...honestly, you weren’t sure what he was staying behind for. Everyone had disappeared into the one room you weren’t allowed into, and when they came out it was like a different group of people had emerged. The thirteen boys you had run into when your cafe was being taken over were now standing in front of you again, preparing for yet another mission.

“Alright,” Seungcheol began, “so, let’s go over the plan one more time.”

You weren’t sure if Seungcheol didn’t know you were there, or just didn’t care at this point, but you were able to pick up quite a bit about the mission. The boys would be going onto a huge boat from what it sounded like. Wonwoo was supposed to do something with cameras and an elevator first from what you heard, then Junhui would be sneaking in, disguised as a delivery man. He was already in his black outfit and fiddling with his earpiece, set to make his “delivery” right away. Jihoon would be doing stuff on his end too and was supposed to alert Junhui through his watch. Damn, they planned this out well… you thought to yourself as you heard them go over more of the plan. No wonder they haven’t been caught yet… Hansol was supposed to sneak in with the staff and help Soonyoung and Minghao, who were then to get to a certain point without triggering anything and turn off the alarm. Simple enough. Whatever they were going after had to be pretty intense for all this planning. You heard the word “bombs” a few to many times to feel comfortable about it and tried to focus your mind on something else. The thought of everyone going off to do something dangerous made you feel uneasy. They were your family now after all.

“We’re going to head out now.” Mingyu said, walking over to you. You stood up from your spot on the couch and looked at him. He had dyed his once dark hair to a bleach blonde, and even went as far as to cut it a lot shorter than you had been used to seeing. He wore a yellow and black turtleneck sweater and a long black coat over it. Not something you would expect to see him in while he’s trying to sneak onto a huge boat.

“You’re wearing that?” you questioned.

“What, does it look bad? I thought it would go well with my new hair…” Mingyu said, looking down at his sweater.

“No, it looks fancy. And I like your new hair, it’s just not what I expected to see you in. you are like storming a boat right? Actually, everyone’s dressed really nice...”

“(Y/n), we’re mafia members, not some lowlife thugs.” Mingyu said with a chuckle.

“Right…” you rolled your eyes, “of course, how silly of me.” Mingyu gave you a look but said nothing. “Good luck with everything, even though I’m pretty sure this is all illegal. Just come back to me safe, okay?”

“Well, know that you’ve told me that, I have no choice but to come back unharmed.” Mingyu said with a cheeky smile.

You and Seungkwan watched as they drove down the long path, and eventually disappeared into the woods, while Jihoon headed straight for his “office” as he called it.

“Seungkwan, what are you going to be doing here?” you questioned after silence had finally settled into the house.

“That’s a secret.” He said with a smirk before disappearing into his room as well. Then, you were met with complete and utter silence. A quiet, still, empty silence you hadn’t heard in months. With thirteen boys in the house, there’s never silence, from snoring at night, to yelling during the day, and the constant background music playing, there is never silence. You hadn’t realized just how much you had missed it. The first thing you did? Sleep of course. Because why not. You woke up around lunch, bored out of your mind. At least when the guys were here you had someone to talk with. Sitting around the house like this was excruciating. The once blissful silence had become stifling.

You tried to listen through the walls to Jihoon’s office but heard only the clicking of keys. No sound came from Seungkwan’s room, leaving you alone for sure. You snuck into Mingyu and Wonwoo’s shared room and pulled a few books you had never read before and settled down on the couch to read. Jihoon only came out of the office once, he shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed a donut, and shuffled back to the office, not staying a single word. You heard a few crashes from his office not long after that but didn’t bother to go investigate. If something during the mission went wrong, you didn’t want to be anywhere near the short boy.

You fixed yourself a small, late lunch, then returned to your book. Nothing much seemed to be happening, that is, until late afternoon. All of the sudden, Seungkwan busts out of his room, dressed in a sweater and pulling on his long tan coat before flying out of the front door, hopped on a motorcycle and tore down the road. Curses erupted from Jihoon’s office, and you decided it would be best if you retreated into your room. Hopefully everyone was alright. The thought of Mingyu was constantly floating around in the back of your mind after that. The sun had finally set and the moon shone brightly outside. Your peered out of one of the front windows and saw a small light coming towards the house, which you assumed was Seungkwan coming back. You moved from the window and around the house, cleaning up little things here and there since you had nothing else to do. You threw yourself down on the couch, waiting for Seungkwan to come through the front door. You hoped that he would finally be free and the two of you could talk, you were even willing to cook up some sort of dinner for him if he wanted. He never came however. Instead you were met with creaks in the house

That was a lot more creaking then the house usually made on its own though. Maybe Jihoon had come out of his office for dinner? You stood up from the couch and slowly headed towards the door leading to the rest of the house. You peeked your head around the corner and saw no one. But what you did see made your heart jump into your throat. The front door was open. Wide open… any normal person would have stayed put. If the front door was open and you could hear someone moving around, not good to go blindly walking in. Then again, it’s not like you could call the police if anyone had broken into the house. You didn’t even know where the dang house was, let alone bring the police straight to a mafia base? Not smart.

You snuck further through the door a little further to see if you could catch a glimpse of whoever was in the house if anyone at all. Your heartbeat seemed to be right in your ears, and you felt as if your breathing was now the loudest thing on earth. You tiptoed around, hoping to at least get to the stairs and rush up to Jihoon’s office unnoticed and some backup. After all, someone breaking into a base of a mafia by themselves doesn’t really stand a chance at all. If there were others…now that’s a different story. You had almost made it to the base of the stairs when you heard someone whisper your name. you physically jumped upon hearing it and whipped around to see none other than Hoseok standing there. Your Hoseok…Monsta X’s Wonho, standing in Seventeens base home.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, not moving an inch from where you stood.

“I came to get you.” Hoseok whispered, moving closer towards you.

“Uhhhh… no thanks?” you whispered. “you need to go, Jihoon’s still here!”

“I know, that’s why you have to come quick, he won’t notice for a while if we go now.” Hoseok whispered in a rush, already making a move towards the door.

“Hoseok, I’m not going to leave.” You stated.

“Why? They kidnapped you, I’ve been planning to come get you today ever since the ball.”

“Because even if I do get out, I can’t just go back to my normal life. Not now, not ever. I’m stuck like this forever now, there’s no point in running away.”

“But you could at least come with me and stay with someone you actually know. The other guys in my gang are super nice.” Hoseok explained.

“But Seventeen is just as nice, I like it here with them. Plus, if you take me, that will just ruin the relationship between the two groups.” You whispered, still worried Jihoon would come down and find Hoseok in his house. “How did you even find me?”

“I’ve been tracking you for years now. I knew the exact moment you got tangled up with seventeen. I knew when Mingyu kept coming to your café that something was up. I should have pulled you out before anything happened but I was too late. It was a bit harder to find you after seventeen had taken you to their base, but I found you eventually.” Hoseok explained, moving away from the door and closer to you once he realized you weren’t going to follow him.

“Wow, that’s…that’s really creepy.” Was all you could say.

“Look, I didn’t come all this way to leave without you, (y/n).” Hoseok said in almost a growl. Now you were starting to get a little freaked out. The Hoseok you knew in high school was so different from the Hoseok you were seeing now. It was starting to scare you. You were contemplating running up the stairs to get to Jihoon, but right as you were about to bolt up the stairs, Hoseok grabbed your arm, yanked you back and clamped his hand over your mouth. You tried to break free but he was to strong compared to you. There was no way you were going to be able to break free. You thrashed around, hoping that your thumbing against the floor would catch Jihoon’s attention, but you had the feeling he had his headphones on to fully focus on their mission. Amidst the horrible feeling of being betrayed by your once close friend and not being able to break free, you were being kidnapped again. You shouldn’t have even been kidnapped once, why did you have to say again. Before you could put up even more of a fight, a cloth was held against your face. You held your breath for as long as possible while you tried to pull your face away from his strong grip, but eventually you had no other choice but to breath into the cloth, leading you to black out not much longer.

When you woke up you were met with a very familiar feeling. The familiar feeling of waking up sore, confused and very, very unhappy. You had been kidnapped yet again. However, this time you felt a little calmer than before. You didn’t wake up in a car this time around though. You woke up in a bed in a rather small room. You sat up and rubbed your temples, becoming painfully aware of the throbbing headache. You rolled out of the bed and headed towards the door and were surprised when you found the door to be unlocked. You slowly opened the door and poked your head out and glanced around. You could hear people talking downstairs, but other than that there was nothing else. The halls were empty save a few shut doors and big windows. You slowly crept over towards the stairs and peered over the railing, trying to get a better view on where you were. You couldn’t believe you had gotten kidnapped again. Right under Jihoon’s nose as well. Was Mingyu going to think you ran away? Both him and Joshua knew you had been thinking about it… were the going to come look for you? Would they even bother to look for you? It’s not like you were technically part of their gang, in all honesty, you were essentially dead weight to them. Maybe Seungcheol would be glad to finally have you off his hands.

You stood at the top of the stairs, contemplating what you should do. Should you stay in your room and refuse to come out, try and make a break for a door or window and escape, or just walk down in and see all the members of Monsta X again. Eventually you decided to go downstairs and just see what happens. If you saw a place to get out, you’d go for it. Even if you had no idea where you were, getting out would be a good start. If you didn’t find a way out, maybe you would be able to get in contact with seventeen somehow through one of the members. If these two gangs really were as close as they’ve said before, there should be a way they contact each other. Maybe you would be able to get a message to them and let the seventeen members know who had you. Whether your idea was complete impossible and dumb, it was better than anything. Then again, you thought as you slowly crept down the stairs, if Hoseok could track me so long, seventeen should be able to find me, right? After all, if Jihoon really was as good as tracking and Joshua said he was, shouldn’t he be able to find you? So many thoughts were swirling through your head you hadn’t even realized you’d already made it to the room were all the voices had been coming from. You stood in the frame of the door as you stared at seven boys, who were looking back at you.

“Oh, you’re up.” Hoseok declared.

“Yah.” You replied, all nervousness leaving you and becoming replaced with annoyance. “Take me back home please.”

“Home?” Hoseok repeated. “How did that place become your home?”

“Probably the same way this place became your home.” You said, frustrated.

“Then you should easily be able to adjust to this place and make it your home. You’ll be happier here, honest.” Hoseok declared.

“Yah right.” You said before turning and heading upstairs. However, something caused you to stop at the foot of the stairs and listen. A little bit after you had left the room you heard hushed voices talking.

“Wonho, I still don’t think we should keep them here.” A voice said.

“I know what they mean to you, but maybe you can just let them go back to their normal life? They don’t have to go back to seventeen…” you wanted to stay around and here the rest of their conversation, but upon hearing the scrap of chair legs and footsteps you quickly launched yourself upstairs so no one would find out you had been listening in on their conversation. You sat down on the edge of your bed and ran your fingers through your hair. It’s not like anything bad was happening to you, but god you wanted to leave. You wanted to go home. Not your original home, no, you wanted to go to your home were your family was. Where Seventeen was.

Next...

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