#was momos mom a seer?? damn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth — I.II: Curosity Killed the Cat

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, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, descriptions of death and murder, mentions of blood, mentions of traumatic experiences, mention of reader having an anxiety attack, etc.

word count: 6,6k

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

chapter directory

“Jihyo, please just—OW!” Pain shoots like electricity through your limbs as your hip catches the railing of the stairwell while your ankle rolls dangerously along the edge of the top step. You cling to your roommate’s shoulders, trying to find balance in the midst of her steel-like grip to avoid inevitably breaking a bone… or your entire body.

“Shit. Sorry, (Y/N).” Jihyo murmurs apologetically, hoisting your arm higher around her shoulders. You bite back a frustrated retort and instead, find the patience to allow your support to haul you toward your shared apartment’s door. There’s honestly no need for Jihyo’s help in scaling the stairways, seeing as somehow, after the incident in the alleyway, you were completely unscathed, but she insisted. And when Jihyo puts her mind to something, there’s no pulling her out.

Jihyo kicks open the door after unlocking it, and tugs you forward with a proud grin, “Home sweet home. All in one piece.”

“The bruise on my hips says otherwise,” You groan, breathing a sigh of relief when you finally escape her hold. “I think I’m more hurt than I was in the actual hospital.”

“Hush, child.” Jihyo drags the warm jacket from your shoulders before bending down to undo the laces of your boots. You sigh, but make no complaint about her fussing—you’d only receive another long lecture anyway. After another minute or two, Jihyo finishes sliding off your boots and guides you into the living room. Your eyes meet the sight of Sana nestled inside the giant, olive beanbag cushion, and two unfamiliar girls settled on the sofa beside her.

“Look who’s home!” Jihyo calls cheerfully, turning the three sets of eyes away from the Pretty Little Liars rerun playing on the TV screen and in your direction. In the blink of an eye, Sana leaps from her seat and throws herself against your body. You almost lose your balance from the force of impact, but manage to return her hug without fault.

“I was so worried when Mark called us,” Sana’s arms tighten around your waist. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

“I’ll try,” You rub her back, “I’m okay, Sana.”

“You should sit down, (Y/N).” You pull from your friend’s embrace to nod at Jihyo, accepting the spot on the sofa where one of the girls had given up for your benefit. You shoot her a grateful smile, receiving a shy one in return.

“Oh, that’s right! (Y/N), Jihyo, this is Mina, and Momo—” Sana points to each girl with their respected names, “the friends from my high school in Japan I was telling you guys about. They’re visiting for a few weeks.”

“Welcome to Moon Dye,” Jihyo nods politely. “Sorry about all this chaos right off the bat. (Y/N), here, managed to land herself in the hospital last night.”

“It’s a long story.” You chuckle, your cheeks growing hot at both Mina and Momo’s concerned stares. “But I’m perfectly fine. Good as new.”

“What even happened, (Y/N)?” Sana asks curiously while lowering onto the arm of the couch beside you. You open your mouth to answer, but Jihyo’s voice emerges instead:

“(Y/N)’s already had a rough enough night as it is. Let’s not put her on the spot.” Again, you try to protest your good health, but the girls had already moved to a new subject by the time you open your mouth.

To be honest, you still don’t believe the story that you fell in that dark alley, hit your head and knocked yourself out—the one that everyone is shoving down your throat. Even Mark didn’t believe you when you tried to explain the details you remember from last night. His words were similar to the very ones that Jinyoung had said: ‘You hit your head, (Y/N). Your memory is probably all sorts of fucked up.’

But he’s wrong. Jinyoung is wrong. Everyone else is wrong. You know you were attacked, and maybe you don’t know what it was, but someone—something tried to kill you. And it was pretty damn close… but that just begs another question: How the hell did you survive and come out with not even a scratch?

“—was just so sudden. I just couldn’t believe it when I heard the news.” You return to reality just in time to see Jihyo shake her head, a pained expression written across her round face. “I mean, how does something like that just happen? You know?”

“What are you talking about?”

Four pairs of eyes turn at your voice as Sana answers, “Im Nayeon was found dead in Eclipse Cemetery. My mom said she was killed by an animal.” You heard Mark mention Nayeon’s name a few times in past conversations, but had never spoken to the woman herself. She works in a tiny shop in Poison Square, Moon Dye Bay’s most infamous shopping complex, reading tarot cards and giving fortunes—she worked there, that is. Still, Mark and Nayeon were friends, so he must have known. Is that why he broke down at the hospital? But why wouldn’t he tell you?

Your eyebrows furrow, “An animal? How is that possible?”

“What goes around, comes around.” You perk up as one of Sana’s friends, Momo, you believe, speaks up for the first time. She returns your glance with a blank stare, which sends a violent chill up your spine, “It happens to the best of us.”

“How can you say that?” You scoff, “A girl is dead—”

“I’m so sorry,” The other friend, the one who relinquished her seat, Mina steps in this time, “My sister can be a little intense sometimes. She didn’t mean it in a condescending way.”

“You’re sisters?”

Mina shrugs, “Fostered, actually. We’ve kind of just… stuck together.”

You nod, “I get it. I was a foster kid too.” Mina nods too, but doesn’t say anything in response. As she’s turning back to the surrounding trio, your eyes catch sight of a shiny, gold necklace tucked into the collar of her shirt. You can’t see the charm on the end, but just by the chain, it looked ancient. Probably a family heirloom of some sorts.

Your mind returns back to Nayeon before wandering to your own attacker. At the connection, your blood runs cold. Is it possible that whatever monster that attempted to take your life had succeeded in ensnaring Nayeon’s instead? It may explain the reluctance toward your true story, and the attacker’s animal-like behavior… but what of your miraculous recovery? And what does Jinyoung have to do with any of this?

Something is going on in Moon Dye Bye… and you’re going to find out what.

“By the way, Momo, I love your tattoo.” You barely catch Jihyo’s comment as you rise from the sofa and begin to make your way toward your bedroom. You hadn’t gotten much sleep at the hospital, partly because of Mark, and partly because you just couldn’t find the will to close your eyes. To be honest, you don’t even know if you’ll be able to catch sleep in your own bed any better. Too lost in your own exhaustion, you don’t catch Sana’s laugh just as you’re shutting your bedroom door:

“Momo doesn’t have a tattoo, Ji! Are you sure you’re not the one who hit her head!?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The fogginess of his dreamworld fades as Mark gradually begins to awaken from his slumber. He parts his eyelids, only to immediately shut them with an annoyed hiss as a ray of sunlight stabs into his sensitive pupils. To escape the day’s wrath, he rolls to his opposite side and away from the lone window, reminding himself to invest in a set of curtains in the near future.

Mark forces his upper body upward on the sofa. He groans, the movement placing a strain on his back, and lifts his arms over his head to alleviate the knots of his muscles. With a sigh, Mark wipes the remnants of a poor night’s sleep from his face before glancing back to the window. Judging by the brightness of the sun, he must have slept through the entire morning and early afternoon.

Mark sighs again, recalling the gruesome nightmares that plagued his slumber: Nayeon’s loud screams stabbing into his soul as an unfamiliar shadow drove a large knife into her immobile body over and over again until he could feel her blood splattering all across his skin. Then, in the midst of his terror, Nayeon’s face would shift to yours… and he could do nothing but watch as the monster stole the life from your eyes…

He pushes the thought away, suddenly nauseous, and rises from the sofa, heading toward the small kitchenette in the corner to start up a pot of coffee. As he passes the window, Mark notices a couple figures congregating around an array of chipped, ancient headstones. At first, Mark believes them to be the forensic cleaners finishing up the removal of the crime scene, but he catches the sight of the back of Youngjae’s head… and someone he definitely does not want to see.

“God fucking damnit—” He curses to himself, abandoning his coffee and stomping outside with the beginnings of a sneer pulling across his face. At the call of his name, both Youngjae and his companion turn to face Mark just as he reaches their meeting place, “What the hell is he doing here!?”

“I’m sorry, hyung… I thought it’d be better if I didn’t tell you about this…” Mark glares at the younger who seems to shudder beneath its intensity. Youngjae looks down guiltily, before silently mumbling something to himself.

“Don’t be upset with him,” At the voice, Mark shifts his angry gaze to the vampire. “I came on my own accord. I want to make a proposition.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, right? Why would we ever want to make a deal with you?”

“Because I can help you find out who killed your seer.” Jinyoung replies coolly, reaching inside the pocket of his casual, navy blazer to pull out a pocket-sized, leather-bound book with cream colored pages. He offers it to Mark, “This is an old journal that belonged to a powerful witch who was a descendant in a long line of Pagan Witchcraft. It contains thousands of ancient scriptures and symbols dating back to the first century.”

Mark snatches the book and immediately begins to flip through it. None of the text encrypted along the pages are anything he’d ever seen before, likely being written in a different language. He allows the cover to shut and passes it to Youngjae before narrowing his eyes at Jinyoung, “How did you know we were looking for an old symbol?”

“I have contacts at the morgue, so I paid her body a visit myself.” Mark bites back a frustrated slur and wills himself to let the vampire finish, “In all the centuries I’ve been alive, I have only seen a symbol like that once—in dark magic.” The loathing Mark feels for Jinyoung completely vanishes at the mention of the dark arts, shifting back into the nausea from before. “I believe whoever killed your seer drew power from something, be it a spell or an object, in order to gain enough strength to overpower her, which means—”

“Whatever doing this is supernatural.” Youngjae finishes with a grimace, “They must have used dark magic to strip her of her powers before she was killed. I couldn’t trace any magic use from her body.”

“She’s not the first.” Again, Jinyoung retracts a set of papers from his jacket and hands them to Mark, “I’ve traced hundreds of unexplained deaths in dozens of towns. Each witch had that same symbol carved into their chest.”

“They’re specifically targeting covens— ” Mark breathes, glancing over the provided documents, “Slaughtering them and… fucking hell.”

Jinyoung nods, “You and your people need to be careful. Whoever is doing this will try to kill again.” Mark hesitates for a moment before mindlessly closing his hand into a fist, crushing the papers in his grasp. He resumes his glare at the vampire.

“What’s in it for you? Why are you helping us?”

Jinyoung’s eyes soften, “This town has already seen enough death. I don’t wish for it to see anymore.”

Jinyoung’s response delivers a harsh punch to Mark’s gut, leaving him almost breathless. Unwanted memories rush into his head like a parasite—the guilt he had pushed down so long ago beginning to eat away at his soul. Too lost inside his own head, Mark remains silent as Jinyoung and Youngjae exchange a couple final words, before the former gestures toward the book in the younger’s hands.

“I have places to be, but let me know if you manage to find the symbol. I’ll see if I can find more information about the murdered covens.” The vampire offers a nod of farewell and turns to leave, but surprising himself, Mark snaps from his headspace and calls out:

“Jinyoung…!”

Jinyoung halts to peer over his shoulder, “Yes?” Mark hesitates again, somewhere in between what seems to be long-harbored resentment and mental exhaustion. His eyes glance toward the gravel pathway meters away where Nayeon’s corpse had laid only hours ago, until his mind shifts to thoughts about you: The warmth of your arms… The genuine promise of your voice… The gleam of your eyes… All of his anger immediately dissipates.

He nods, “I don’t want anyone else to die either.” Jinyoung merely blinks in response before continuing his journey toward the exit of the cemetery. Mark watches his silhouette fade into the glare of the afternoon sun with the documents still tightly grasped in his palms. Only once the vampire is out of sight does he release a sigh and face his younger companion:

“Call Minho, Jisung and Lia, and get them all here.” Mark combs a hand through his hair with a huff, “No one leaves my sight until we catch this fucker and put them so far underground, they won’t be able to climb back up from Hell.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Splashes of water splatter across your ankles and wet the bottom of your jeans as you sprint through a massive array of puddles. Although it does little to protect your body from the pouring rain, you tug your jacket tighter around your shoulders. The one evening you choose to take a spur-of-the-moment book run to escape your overdramatic and overbearing roommates, it has to be raining cats and dogs. Luckily, the town’s only bookstore is not too far from your apartment.

You manage to reach the shop just as the wind begins to pick up and hurriedly push past the door. A sigh falls past your lips, briefly pausing to relish the warm, rain-free atmosphere before receding further into the store. Ever since you moved to Moon Dye, the Bookshop of Lullabies has become one of few places you frequent often. It’s a quaint, little place stuffed from top to bottom with texts of all kinds, and barely enough space for a single person to squeeze through the aisles. If you travel deep enough through the maze of shelves, there’s a tiny nook complete with a window seat and throw cushions softer than a bed of silk—you like to spend a lot of your time cuddled up there with a nice book.

“Look who finally decided to show up and cure my boredom. Good thing—I was just thinking about chewing my arm off.” Unsurprised, you turn to find a familiar face behind the cashier counter. One that, like the store itself, you have seen quite often.

You first met Bambam through Mark—the two were friends in high school—at a dinner event his mother, the mayor of Moon Dye, held for his birthday. Aside from the occasional rich kid personality quirks, you’ve found Bambam to be quite a humble and reliable person, especially in providing you discounted books and helpful tips for living in town.

“Hello to you too, Bam.” You smile. “How are things?”

Bambam shrugs, “Slow day, and the rain really doesn’t help. Anyway, what are you looking for today? Maybe an edgy dystopian with way too much backstory? Or a sickeningly sweet love story where the simp dies? ”

“I'll honestly take anything you deem acceptable at this point.”

“You’re giving me way too much trust there, babygirl.” He chuckles, pilfering through a nearby box of books in order to gratify your request. “Mark told me you had a pretty rough spill last night. You okay?”

“To be completely honest—not really.” You traipse over to the counter and lay your bag across its surface. Bambam moves aside some books to make room before offering a nearby stool for you to sit, “I just, I’m still confused on what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everybody says I fell and hit my head, but I don’t think that’s what happened—no—” You shake your head, “I know that’s not what happened, but it’s like everyone is just, I don’t know… hiding something.” Through the corner of your eye, you notice how Bambam’s shoulders tense at your comment, but brush it off as an odd tick. “But I guess what I don’t understand is why they’d want to… I mean, Mark would never keep something that important from me…” Once again, the clerk’s body fidgets uncomfortably—this time, furthering the suspicion brewing in your gut.

Your eyes narrow, “Bam… Do you know something that I don’t?”

He seems to hesitate, running a hand through his tousled ivory-dyed tresses before peering toward the door, as if expecting someone else to enter. You open your mouth to pry, but Bambam’s answer beats you to it, “There’s a lot of things I know that you don’t…”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean—?”

“It means that this town has secrets…” The abrupt change in his tone increases the uneasiness in your stomach, temporarily changing your frustrated mood to one of fear. A violent shiver crawls down your spine at his next words, “...secrets that can get you killed.”

“What secrets?” Your annoyance returns at his ambiguous response, “What does this have to do with what happened to me last night?”

“Well, you were attacked, weren’t you?”

Your blood turns cold. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“I told you, I know a lot of things.” He releases a sigh before bending down to disappear behind the wood of the counter. He returns only seconds later with a seemingly old, leather-bound book clutched in both hands. You watch, wide-eyed like a fish, as he slides the object toward you.

“This journal belonged to my great-, great-, great-grandmother, the first ever mayor of Moon Dye Bay.” Bambam begins, watching closely as you cautiously grab the text as if it would turn to dust in your grasp. “It contains private information about the town you won’t find anywhere else.”

“And you’re just giving it to me?”

“I’m pointing you in the right direction.” He states matter-of-factly, “If you live in this town, you should know what you’re up against.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because if anyone were to find out, it would be dangerous for the both of us.”

“But why—?”

“Please just trust me on this, (Y/N).” You can do nothing but stare at Bambam, your thoughts too much of a jumbled, chaotic mess to come up with another reply. You want to insist—you want to insist over and over again until the clerk eventually spills—but you know it’s hopeless. There are few moments where Bambam is ever this serious, so whatever mess you managed to get yourself into—it’s crucial.

You finally nod after another eon of silence and tuck the old journal inside your bag, “How much?”

“Consider it a six-month late welcome-to-town gift.” Bambam’s poor attempt at humor does little to lift your spirits, but you still scrounge up a weak smile and an even weaker thank you. As you make your way toward the exit, you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head, and for once in a lifetime, you can’t wait to head out into the pouring rain. Just as you’re pushing through the door, Bambam calls out:

“Hey, babygirl?”

You turn with a sigh, “What is it, Bam?”

“Just be careful, okay?” He murmurs heavily, “Those monsters that used to hide under our beds when we were kids, well… They grew up too.” You don’t bother to answer, send the clerk a parting nod and take off into the blurriness outside the bookstore. Your lungs welcome the damp air, attempting to soothe the racing of your heart with each breath. Even though you’re all wrapped up in your coat, your hands still tremble.

If what Bambam said is true, and this town is hiding something, and you eventually do find out what that something is, then how badly will it change your life? You moved to Moon Dye Bay to escape the traumas of your past… not to create new demons that will haunt your mind day and night. It’s been so long since you’ve felt what it feels like to belong somewhere, but then… Do you really want a place full of darkness, secrets and lies as a home?

You quickly dash across the street, barely avoiding an approaching car driving way over the given speed limit. The rain only makes the atmosphere more ominous, both obscuring your vision and deafening your ears. Images from last night pop into your head which fuels the hurriedness of your pace. You can’t seem to control your breathing, or the anxiety swallowing your form.

What if that monster was following you as you think? Is he aching to finish the job he failed to last night, and take your life as his prize? What if there’s no miracle there to save you this time? What if you die in a wet, dark alleyway where nothing but the rats can—?

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” You hadn’t realized somewhere in your rush you’d paused to rest against the building, awakening from your panicked trance at the warm voice that invades your ears like honey. You quickly compose yourself, shove your now vibrating hands in the pocket of your coat, and turn to face the familiar face with a confused expression.

“Jinyoung? Are you following me?”

“Where would you get an idea like that?” Jinyoung hurriedly pulls you underneath the awning of a shop and out of the rain. “I just left the police station and saw you out here by yourself. You seem… stressed.”

“Aside from wet socks, I’m alright.” You shake your head, “Why were you at the police station?”

“I had some business to take care of,” He answers, obviously not desiring to provide any more details to satiate your curiosity. “Anyway, what brings you out in this weather?”

“Honestly, I just needed to escape from my crazy, overbearing roommates.” You shake the rain from your hair with a chuckle, “Just left the bookstore actually.”

“I didn’t take you for the bookworm type.”

“What? Just because I don’t exude the ‘shy, silent, glasses-wearing’ stereotype?”

Jinyoung chuckles at your comeback, the sound gritty and amused, before placing a hand over his chest, “My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, choose your words more carefully then.”

He nods with a smile, “I’ll definitely do that.” The raindrops pelting against the top of the awning creates a comfortable rhythm as you and Jinyoung fall into a heavy silence. Jinyoung continues to wear his tight, close-lipped smile while you continue to stare, not knowing whether to comment on his odd talent in appearing out of nowhere or reminisce in the storminess of his brown irises. You choose neither, and opt to end the conversation where it is:

“It was really nice to see you again, but I should get back before the weather turns into a full-blown hurricane.”

“That would probably be best,” Jinyoung steps aside, allowing you the room to pass by, and hums, “It’s always a pleasure, (Y/N).” You shoot him a grateful smile before launching back into the raging of the storm, immediately missing his uniquely charming aura and caramel-like gaze. Just from the interaction with Jinyoung, both your mind and body feel much more relaxed and in a way… almost safe.

Too deep in your own thoughts, you fail to catch the second shadow that slinks out of a nearby alleyway and behind Jinyoung’s broad body.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Have you lost your goddamn mind!?” Mark pinches the bridge of his nose at the high-pitched wail of the fuming, dark-haired witch, suddenly craving a drink to take the edge off of his nerves. Maybe they have some leftover grey goose in the cupboard— “You must have, cause you just made a deal with the fucking devil!”

“Can you at least try not to yell?” From the center of a nearby ring of burning candles and sage on the floor, Lia sighs in annoyance, “I’m pretty sure the entire town can hear you at this point.”

“Shut up!” Minho hisses at the female, before replacing his laser-like glare back on Mark. “I mean, you do understand how utterly stupid this entire thing is, right!? Things suddenly turn to shit and you run to those bloodsucking bastards for help!?”

“He gave us a book, Minho. It’s not like I signed our souls away.”

He scoffs, “You might as well have! Didn’t it ever occur to you that the Primes just want an opportunity to pick us off like flies? I mean, how do we know they weren’t the ones that killed Nayeon?”

“Youngjae’s tracking spell would have picked up their trail.” Mark sluggishly walks toward the stove, retrieving the whistling kettle before its volume reaches that of a shrill scream. He sighs and generously refills his coffee cup, “And you know very well that if they wanted us dead, we would have been in the ground months ago.”

“You’re not listening to me!” Mark takes a sip of the steaming stimulant, the liquid doing nothing to ease the pounding of his head as Minho continues to rant, “We are all going to end up dead! We should have run them out of town when we had the opportunity in the first place—”

“Oh my fucking god! Can you shut your mouth for a goddamn second!?” Lia’s anger sends chaos throughout the mausoleum. Jisung barely avoids a barrage of books spilling from their shelves while Youngjae ducks in time for a potted plant to fly over his head and shatter against the wall. Lia storms across the room, a trail of hot flames following her steps, and pokes a single finger into Minho’s chest with a sneer, “Nayeon-unnie is dead, okay!? And there is a psycho out there right now with their eyes on another witch in this room!? Mark is doing the best he can so it’s not your moronic ass that’s next on the hit list!”

Minho remains silent, visibly surprised by the younger witch’s outburst. For a moment, Mark notices a spark of guilt behind his eyes before they shift to their usual cold exterior.

“I don’t want anyone else to die, okay? But making a truce with one of the oldest vampires in existence is not a good plan—”

“Well, it’s the only plan we have right now.” Mark sighs, “I do what’s best for my people—to keep you safe.”

Minho stares coldly at Mark, “Yeah, just like you kept Jackson safe. Right?”

Stunned by the witch’s sudden question, Mark is both physically and mentally unable to respond. He simply stares back at Minho with his jaw practically dropped to the floor. Minho shamelessly meets his eyes, as if finding joy out of Mark’s shock.

“Hey, guys…” The brief moment of tension breaks at Youngjae’s call, who all this time, had been stationed behind the lectern flipping through the journal Jinyoung had gifted only hours ago. Mark feels the many cups of coffee sitting in his stomach churn at the absolute terror spread along Youngjae’s face. Though at his next words, Mark almost believes his entire insides turn inside-out, “I found the symbol that was on Nayeon’s body…

“It means ‘Hunter’.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung watches your silhouette recede into the blur of the rain with a smile. His mind reels back to your conversation, and how prettily your eyes shimmered in the mist. If it were any other person, Jinyoung wouldn’t care much for the spitfire-type of attitude, but with you… He actually enjoys your ferocious nature. It showcases your livelihood—and mortal strength.

Jinyoung had planned to keep his word to Mark and steer clear, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when he spotted you standing in the midst of the storm. Something inside him is drawn to you, almost like a moth to a flame. It excites him, but startles him all the same. Never before has Jinyoung felt such a magnetic pull to another person—certainly not a human woman. Though, the rational voice in the back of his head still believes some part of you is not all that mortal…

A wave of chill dampens the cheeriness of his mood, pulling a sigh of annoyance from his lips. He doesn’t have to turn around to feel the stealthy presence behind him. With one last glance toward the direction in which you vanished, and another huff, Jinyoung tugs on the lapels of his blazer and speaks:

“Following me again, hyung?”

A deep-set chuckle carries into Jinyoung’s ears, “In all our centuries together, I’ve never quite succeeded in getting anything past you… huh, Jinyoungie?” Jinyoung turns to face his brother, immediately growing more annoyed at his usual, nonchalant stance complete with lazily crossed arms, tilted head and a devious smirk along his lips. “Though, if I knew any better, I’d believe you’re not exactly thrilled to see me?”

“Well, do you know any better?”

Jaebeom laughs, “You’re still upset with me. What else is new.”

“Forgive me if I’m not jumping through the roof because of your erratic behavior.” Jinyoung shoots his brother a glare before shoving his right hand in the respected pocket of his jeans. “Nine bodies all drained of blood, hyung. Do you not understand the concept of remaining inconspicuous?”

“What can I say? I was rather famished last night.”

Jinyoung stares at Jaebeom with a blank expression, “Does human life mean that little to you? Truly?”

Jaebeom releases a heavy sigh, pushes off the brick wall in which he was leaning against, and takes a couple steps forward until he and Jinyoung are only inches from sharing oxygen. He provides his younger brother another smirk and shrugs, “There was a time we used to share the same perspective, brother. And if I remember correctly, you were much, much worse than I am.”

“That is in the past.”

“Ah. Of course.” Jaebeom retracts a silver-coated lighter from the pocket of his black, shredded jeans. Jinyoung watches the older play with the tool, repeatedly striking the light over and over again as he continues, “So… Are you going to tell your dear brother about the lovely girl that’s caught your eye?”

Jinyoung’s patience immediately gives out at your mention. His features pull into a sneer, glaring at the amusement spreading along Jaebeom’s face.

“Leave it alone.”

“You do like her then?” Jaebeom’s smirk widens to a grin, “Wow. I’d never thought I’d live to see the day Park Jinyoung falls for a human.” Jinyoung tries to keep his self-control intact as Jaebeom proceeds to laugh, lifting the flame of the lighter up to the level of his eyes—malice visibly flickering in the light of his irises. “She must be very, very special…”

Jinyoung growls, “I said, leave it alone. I’m not playing your games now, hyung.”

“I only want to know what sweet (Y/N) has done to gain my little brother’s attention. Maybe it’s her spunk? Or her beautiful face? Or just maybe, the delectable taste of her delicious blo—” In the blink of an eye, Jinyoung has Jaebeom pressed against the same wall he was leaning against only moments before with an arm at his throat. Jinyoung can actually see his own rage in the reflection of Jaebeom’s black eyes.

“You will stay away from her.” Jinyoung murmurs dangerously, relishing proudly in Jaebeom’s stunned expression. “Do not push me on this. Or I will push back.” Jinyoung releases his hold on his brother, pausing to straighten out the wrinkles of his blazer. Jaebeom continues to stare at the younger with bewilderment, unable to say anything in response.

An annoyed breath leaves Jinyoung’s lips as he peers down at his watch, “I’m late. We will discuss this when I return back to the manor.” He shoots Jaebeom a pointed glance, “Please refrain from getting yourself into any more trouble. If you even can.” Without as much as a goodbye, Jinyoung brushes past Jaebeom and into the rain that’s coming down even heavier. He tries not to think about the paranoia and fear budding in his gut and instead focus the soaked path ahead, but even his own mind betrays him.

Jinyoung knows Jaebeom. He’s known him for almost a millennium. He knows that if he makes one wrong move, Jaebeom won’t hesitate to retaliate against him—retaliate by using you. Jinyoung shakes his head with a sigh, savoring the chill of the rain against his body. If it comes down to it, he won’t hesitate to to protect you from his brother in any way he has to…

He should have kept his word, and stayed away.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“You sure you don’t need anything else? Water? Another blanket? Some ramen?” You roll your eyes at your roommate’s barrage of questions, unable to help the soft smile that lifts to your lips. As smothering and irritating as Jihyo’s overprotectiveness can be, it’s nice to have someone looking out for your well being—even though she can be a helicopter mom sometimes.

“It’s not like I’m paralyzed, Ji.” You reach forward to take her hand into your own, “I’m okay.”

Jihyo squeezes your fingers, “I just… worry about you, you know? You’ve been through a lot.” Though she doesn’t specify, you know for a fact that she isn’t talking about the hospital visit. Your heart aches for as long you allow it to, before pushing the unwanted feelings away. You playfully nudge her shoulder with a chuckle.

“You worry about everything. Now seriously, clear out.” Jihyo follows your lead to your bedroom door, staying still to allow you to check up on her hair and makeup. When you deem her appearance to be nothing less than perfect, you nod, “Sana won’t let either of us hear the end of it if at least one of us doesn’t go clubbing with her, Momo and Mina.”

“What will you do, tonight?”

“I have some stuff to finish for the university. Or I’ll just binge-watch some Sex and the City.” Jihyo accepts your answer, lifting her arms to bring your body into a short, tight hug. When she pulls away, you send her a wink, “Try not to get too trashed, alright? I really don’t want to be picking your drunk ass up at three in the morning.”

“No promises,” She hums. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“Go have fun, gorgeous.” You give Jihyo a thumbs up as she steps from your bedroom. No sooner does Sana pounce on your roommate, and in a matter of seconds, drags her toward the exit with Mina and Momo not far behind. You wait through the girlish giggles and chatter until the slam of the front door carries from the front hallway—you’re finally alone.

You quickly shut your door, making sure to turn the lock, and hop over to the tiny desk you somehow squeezed in the corner. When you moved in with Sana and Jihyo, they had to convert a storage closet into a bedroom since the apartment only came with one small master, now Sana’s space, and an even smaller office, where Jihyo resides. So your room is basically a shoebox with a single window and enough room for a bed, clothing chest, and a desk and bookshelf set. Even so, you’ve managed to spruce the place up with frilly rugs, decorative succulents and some cheap fairy lights,

After yanking the curtains above your bed closed and double-checking the door, you retract the journal Bambam had given you from where you hid it earlier underneath your pillow. The leather is shockingly cool against your palm, almost searing into your flesh. Whether it’s the nerves or the excitement that’s making your pulse beat like a racehorse, you’re not so sure. But to be honest, it doesn’t matter to you… not as much as the truth that awaits. You settle back into your desk chair and open to the first page.

There’s a name scrawled on the inside of the cover in a handwritten font you’ve only seen in historical documents and creative poetry projects. You recognize Bambam’s last name, Bhuwakul. The next page holds a diary entry in the same handwriting, dating back to 1770. Not desiring to wait any longer, you begin to read the entry:

Day 1 — I have been traveling day and night for many months. My long journey has been filled with hardship, starvation and exhaustion. But my efforts have finally paid off. On a night when the moon was full and bright, I stumbled across a small village only miles from the edge of the sea. The townspeople welcomed me and my brother into their borders. Fed us. Clothed us. And even offered us a home to where we could reside as long as we wished. I believe we will stay here in Moon Dye Bay. For good.

You flip through the rest of the pages, delving into the story of Bambam’s great-, great-, great-grandmother and her new life on the bay—how she bettered the town and its inhabitants, soon earning her title as the first ever mayor. You find yourself immersed in the personal account of her life, relating to her worries, wants, and wishes. Somewhere in the story, you completely forgot about Bambam’s warning… until you reach an entry that makes your skin crawl:

Day 196 — There’s a murderer in town. We’ve lost eleven of our people. Three men. Seven women. And one child. I believe this person, no—this monster enjoys it. This monster enjoys draining the blood from their victims like rum, and tearing open their throats like a child opens a gift. This monster enjoys hearing them scream for mercy—watching the fear in their eyes blossom like flowers. But mostly, I believe this monster enjoys the hunt. I spoke to the Wang faction the other night, and some of the ladies said they felt as if they are being watched at night, when they are alone—as if the monster is lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right chance to kill.

The passage reminds you heavily of what happened last night. Your attacker had done everything in which Bhuwakul described, even the part about tearing your throat open. You don’t bother to acknowledge the spinning of your head and instead, mindlessly flip through the journal. Your lack of attention no longer allows you to fully read the entries, only skim—until you reach another that catches your eye:

Day 209 — It’s unlike anything I could ever imagine… This pain—this grief… My brother is dead and it’s because of those murderers… Because of those demons… We’ve all been blinded by their charms… but no more… I will expose them to the villagers for what they truly are… so no one else can be victimized by their deceit…

You almost faint as you read the next sentence that follows:

—Park Jinyoung and Im Jaebeom are vampires. And they’re coming to kill me next.

86 notes · View notes