#daydreaming of romance and necromancy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lynnlovesthestars · 11 months ago

Text

The veil.- Intro

Astarion x OC ( @wisterialynn )

Genre: reverse isekai.

Synopsis: Astarion falls in love with whoever is hiding behind the veil, and it hits him so hard that he can't forget him. Not even when Lynn starts a new save.

AN: hello this is the prologue of the reverse isekai story I've been working on for a while.. It's supposed to be a lighthearted story, mostly fluff and crack, low on drama, but low-key healing since both oc and Astarion have plenty of trauma. Basically domestic ff.

Also I think I will add some of the renders I made of Lynn and Astarion as I publish the chapters since I have so many - and are so cute.

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sessils @roguishcat

Lynn couldn't help it. When something caught his mind, it was hard to pull him away, so when a new game came out and he downloaded it, he knew he was up for sleepless nights.

It was a breath of fresh air in his monotonous and grey life. It had been ages since he allowed himself to feel something that was not sadness or anger. He sat in front of his screen and he came to life.

He didn't speak much in his day, neither with peers or family since he distanced himself from his roots, moving to a different town, focusing on his work, but once he was knees deep in his little and silly game? He'd comment, talk, sass even, he truly came out of his shell.

It was something Astarion had grown to adore, from the moment Lynn had first loaded his game, and Astarion felt something.. different. He felt out of place to say the least.

Gale blamed the necromancy of Thay, saying it probably connected him with something deeper, just like he was connected to his netherese orb, but Astarion knew it was something different.

And once he was freed of Cazador as well, he couldn't believe his ears.

Astarion could feel that connection becoming deeper, the veil between the two coming closer and thinner.

As he fell for his Tav, he couldn't help but fell harder for him. For his witty comments, his giggles at Astarion's compliment, his humming as he worked and forgot his side of the connection on- aka his PC.

Astarion had heard everything, every comment for the elf, every sob he let out in front of the screen, and god only knows what other sounds coming from Lynn.

Only when Lynn started his second run Astarion became gloomy. The attentions he was so used to receive shifted, Tavgliatelle- or whatever name he gave his character that time- was different, so focused on Karlach.

It didn't mean Astarion couldn't hear Lynn, how he still commented on Astarion, how despite everything he was trying to resist the urge to romance him again. Astarion understood it was just a loop, the more he'd spend time at camp, the more he'd trying and break free of the loop, the more he'd fall for the person at the other side of the screen.

He prayed.

He attempted magic.

He tried to find that small door that could lead him to his lover, until he did find it.

Lynn wanted to say he loved Astarion a normal amount, just like how you love your favourite character, but there was something different.

Astarion had touched him differently than any other, he felt his chest clench, hurt, for a bundle of pixels, he had empathized so much with him. Astarion understood Lynn and Lynn understood Astarion. And yet whatever his heart was hatching was meant to stay there, just within him and his head. In his daydreams and his sweetest nights.

"Lynn?" A rough hand gently pressed against his back as the figure hidden in the dark kneeled next to him. "Love, let's move to the bed" The voice cooed as he gently lifted Lynn from his chair, admiring for a moment his features while they were enlightened only by the light of the screen.

Astarion was glad his vampiric strength didn't get lost, as he carried the man to the bed.

He couldn't help but admire how he laid peacefully. The serious smirk he had when he was hunched over the desk, was replaced with a soft smile as if he knew who was gently sliding under the cotton sheet with him, as if he knew whose arms were wrapping around his middle, as if he knew who cradled him to his chest.

His soulmate.

Astarion's fingertips gently grazed the exposed back, the new feeling spreading all over his body as everything was so new, so real.

All his life no man or woman he had bedded or kissed awoke in him what the man in his grasp was doing without effort.

"My sweet sweet love" He whispered as he kissed the man's temple gently, trying his best not to stir him awake.

He had truly made it, he had crossed the veil that separated him from his love, and now he was laying against his chest, soundly asleep.

The sigh that escaped the other's lips said it all, how peaceful he felt despite being unaware. Astarion liked to imagine that Lynn was feeling safe in his grasp as if his body knew he was being held and protected by him.

The man stirred awake, his body aching from the day before, hissing as he tried to turn, while his body was stiff from sleep.

"There there, sunshine" Astarion cooed as he gently guided him back to lay in his arms. "You need rest"

"I do.." Lynn hummed as his hand gently reached for Astarion's cheek to rest there.

It took him a moment to realize he was not alone, tangled to the cold yet oddly familiar body.

"What the fuck" Lynn jumped up on his seat, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, as if the Astarion laying in his bed was just a remainder of his dream, still stuck in the inside of his eyes.

"Good morning to you too, darling" Astarion chuckled as he gently caressed him. "I suppose that's human's way of saying 'oh my god Astarion, it's so nice to finally hold you" He teased as if sitting in Lynn's bedroom was normal, as if he didn't come from a game, but simply from his window.

"You can't be-" Lynn placed his hand on Astarion's cheek, trying to gauge at reality, only to be met with the cold skin again.

"I very much am, love" The vampire nodded smirking proudly as he brushed back his hair with his fingers.

"I'm still dreaming, that's it" The human couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief, as if that could erase the pungent smell of bergamot that suddenly enveloped his room.

"No, you are awake" Astarion quipped smiling and itching to move closer to shut him up with his lips.

"Astarion you are not real" Lynn said out loud, spelling each word slowly.

"I'm clearly here aren't I" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"Astarion don't be an idiot" Lynn shook his head one step away from facepalming himself.

"What if you are the one not real" Astarion clapped his hands together as if that was his gotcha moment.

"Don't start this" the human, still skeptical crossed his arms together, yet before he could completely close them, Astarion grasped at his wrist and bit the soft flesh.

The sweet taste of his blood awoke something in him, the way it slowly went down his throat thick and warm, made him dizzy but most of all left him breathless for the other man.

"That felt real" Lynn sighed as he pulled away his wrist, massaging where Astarion's lips were a second prior. That was real.

Astarion laid back for a moment, trying his best to contain the euphoria spilling from his every pore, he had a taste of divinity. Completely different from the taste of blood he was used to.

The way it ran through his body, it was real.

"I was trapped in that thing, god knows for how long, I am just a poor vampire in need of a cuddle" He admitted as he caught his breath and opened his arms to invite Lynn in.

"That's it I'm going out of my mind"

Astarion groaned. "IM GOING OUT OF MY MIND CAUSE YOU HAVE NOT HUGGED ME YET"

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #lynn: updates☆#bg3 x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion baldurs gate #lynnlovesthestars #vault: lynn ☆#lynnstarion #bloodshift #the veil

44 notes · View notes

thearmyprof · 2 years ago

Text

Endless Sea, but the water is warm here Ch. 10

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Original Character

Word count: 6218

Chapters: 10/?

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Idol!AU, Canon Divergent,

Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content

Overview post: https://at.tumblr.com/thearmyprof/endless-sea-but-the-water-is-warm-here/h8ruhjcuzs62

Summary:

Sometimes Eunha imagines herself living by the sea. She imagines herself sinking in sunbaked sand and Mina happily jumping in playful waves. She thinks there might have been a time in her own childhood when she visited the ocean. A time before her first visit to the realm of death. A time when she let the pull of the sun-warmed waters pull suggestively at her ankles. When she collected seashells. A time when she could take a big inhale and smell the salt water mixed with the smell of tide, the smell of life.

But daydreams and memories of oceans and sand always morph and twist eventually. The grey waters that ebb and flow with their own mystical tide, the river as vast as an ocean, are what Eunha knows. That river has no smell. She is well versed in the tugs and pulls of the water, urging her to continue her journey onward, out into that vast expanse of monotone darkness. There are some days where it almost feels easier to give in and let the river’s tide do what it wills.

Life is hard and dark until an accidental meeting on a train and an encounter her vampire landlord's ghoul throws Eunha's world colliding with Min Yoongi's. Does this become a fleeting career opportunity or the chance at a better life?

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45497923

Full Tags:

Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Vampires, Fae & Fairies, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Idols, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, World of Darkness, Necromancy, Blood and Violence, Death, None of the guys though, or our two original main characters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Magic, fae bts, Soft Min Yoongi | Suga, Protective Min Yoongi | Suga, Protective Bangtan Boys | BTS, Explicit Sexual Content, Sex Work, Single parent original female character, Softness, Soulmate!AU kind of, Mafia AU, referenced past traumatic birth (not explicit), soft adopted dad Yoongi vibes, Hospitals, referenced police, no jealousy, good communication, we believe in healthy relationships in this house even if the world is burning down

CHAPTER TEN.

Eunha doubles over her haegeum, resting in her lap, wracked with shivers, as she slips back into her body. Her toes and fingers are numb and she shakes uncontrollably, teeth chattering in her skull. The room is warm, almost hot, she notices vaguely but she barely penetrates past her frozen skin. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing her body to calm down and accept the heat.

“Oh good, you’re back with us,” a man’s voice says from somewhere across the room.

Eunha squints over, body still shaking, to figure out who is here.

Seokjin is standing in the doorway, hand holding onto a mug. His voice may have sounded casual, but the look on his face now is wrinkled in worry.

“I honestly didn’t fully believe you did magic until today,” he says. “I stand corrected.”

Eunha shivers again, body still trying to adjust to being back in the plane of the living. Her hands shake as she tries to settle her haegeum back in its case. Jin brings over a quilt, pale lavender with small yellow stars scattered across in a pattern, like a blanket of stars. The quilt rustles as Jin lays it over Eunha’s shoulders, the fabric whispers as it comes in contact with her skin. He brings the tea and sits cross-legged across from her on the floor.

Eunha sips at the tea, instantly feeling relief from the warmth of the liquid. The quilt is soft and warm, a comforting blanket of safety that envelopes Eunha in its warmth. The mug is heavy and smooth in her hands, solid and reassuring, and she’s happy to note her shaking has diminished. Jin watches her closely, concern etched deep into his features.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Eunha nods, pulling the quilt tighter around herself.

“Yoongi is with his lawyer right now,” Seokjin continues, still softly, staring into the swirl of tea leaves at the bottom of his mug. “There are government officials are sniffing around. I don’t know what for. Yoongi will tell us when he gets home.”

“Mina?” Eunha asks, taking another sip of tea.

“She’s in the living room, reading,” Jin says. “She is so strong. You have done a wonderful job as her eomma.”

“I don’t know about that,” Eunha says, more to herself than to Jin.

“Well,” Jin says, slapping his own knee. “I do. I won’t pretend I know your life. Or what you’ve been through. But I think, considering just what I’ve seen, I know you are doing the best you can.”

Eunha huffs. “I don’t know if that’s good enough.”

Jin leans forward, his kind eyes locking onto hers.

“It is enough,” he says firmly. “You have been through so much, Eunha. You are still here. Remember that.”

Eunha nods, grateful for Jin’s words but still feeling the weight of her own inadequacy. Eunha lets out a shaky breath.

“Thanks,” she whispers, looking down at her tea.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Mina wanders in, book in hand. Without a word, she settles down on Eunha’s lap, nestling herself under the quilt. Eunha smiles softly, running her hand through Mina’s hair. She feels a sense of peace settling over her, feeling the buzz of warmth of Mina’s soul vibrating through her chest and arms. She takes another sip of the tea, feeling the liquid warm her chest, and tucks Mina in a little closer to her body. Eunha looks over at Jin, who has a small smile on his lips.

As they sit there together, the sound of the door opening interrupts their peace. After a few moments, Yoongi peeks in through the open doorway, looking both relieved and exhausted upon seeing everyone comfortably sitting on the floor of the bedroom. His hair is tousled and he has dark circles under his eyes. Eunha feels a jolt of affection for him, surprising herself.

Yoongi sees them and his features soften into a smile.

“Hey,” he says, his voice gentle. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Eunha replies, giving him a timid smile. “Jin filled me in on what’s been going on.”

Yoongi nods, sitting down next to them and leaning his back against the bed frame. He looks at Eunha and Mina, then over at Jin, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, the length of it falling back around to frame his face around his cheekbones.

“It’s been a long day,” he says.

Eunha nods. She feels Mina shift against her, and she looks down to see that her daughter has fallen asleep in her arms. Eunha gently picks Mina up and stands, being careful not to jostle her too much.

“I’m going to put her to bed,” Eunha says softly.

Both of the men nod and stand up, picking up the empty tea cups as they go. They quietly tip-toe out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

Eunha nestles Mina under the comforter on the bed. As she tucks her daughter in, Eunha feels a wave of exhaustion wash over her, but she knows she needs to stay awake a little longer. She can hear the sound of Yoongi and Jin talking softly in the living room. She feels like she owes more of an explanation. She’d walked into death today. They surely want to know why. She takes one last look at Mina before leaving the room, making sure that her daughter is sleeping soundly.

As she enters the living room, Yoongi and Jin turn to look at her. Both of them look tired. Eunha feels a wave of guilt crash onto her shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

Jin clears his throat. “I’m going to head out now. We have a schedule early tomorrow morning. And a debrief about all of this in the afternoon.”

He waves his hands in the air to indicate what he meant by “all of this.”

“Night, hyung,” Yoongi murmurs, walking Jin to the door.

“Call me if you need anything, huh?” Jin prods as he puts on his shoes.

Eunha watches them from her place in the hallway. A pang of envy at their ease and familiarity with one another makes her catch her breath. She hasn’t had a bond like that with anyone since Daniel, a feeling amplified by her recent visit with him in death.

As Jin leaves, Yoongi’s shoulders sag as he turns to face Eunha. His body is tense and heavy like a leaden weight. His gaze is intense yet gentle, giving her a sense of security. His lips quirk into a sad little smile.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, the exhaustion etched deep into his voice. He asks softly, “What happened today?”

Yoongi leads Eunha over to the couch, careful not to touch her. She sinks into the couch beside him, feeling the weight of the day bearing down heavily on her. She’s careful not to sit too close, aware that Yoongi knows she can feel his soul now. She doesn’t want him feeling awkward or put upon.

She clears her throat, mind searching for a place to start. As she does, her eyes cast around the living room. Despite the minimalist nature of the space and the monotone aesthetic, it’s still looks cozy, lived in. An almost tangible sense of peace permeates the air. It’s like being in the eye of a storm, surrounded by quietness that speaks volumes. Eunha pulls the light blue throw that is folded on the back of the couch onto her lap, remembering the echoes of cold that wracked her body earlier.

“Thank you,” she decides to start with.

Yoongi makes a small choking sound in his throat, probably in surprise. He opens his mouth to respond, but Eunha cuts him off before he has a chance to utter any sounds.

“I know you don’t think you deserve thanks,” she says. “But you’ve done more for me- more for Mina-yah, than anyone has done in a long time. I needed- I needed this time to find my footing again. And, maybe, I don’t think I’m quite there yet. A lot still worries me. I don’t know what the future holds. But I’m feeling more awake and more rested than I have- oh, since I can remember, really.”

Yoongi’s jaw snapped shut somewhere in the middle of Eunha’s impromptu speech and after he knows she’s done, he nods his head slowly.

“I was about Mina’s age, I can’t remember exactly when, when I walked in the river for the first time,” Eunha says after a few minutes of silence.

This time, the choking sound of surprise from Yoongi is unmistakable. So is the little gasp he makes when he tries to suck in air in his shock.

“My uncle had flown all the way to America,” Eunha continues, “to train me. That was a big deal. My parents spent so much time preparing the house and cleaning and trying to prepare me. I didn’t understand then, but I do now, exactly how powerful he is and what that meant to my parents. He was- is the sort to train by throwing a pupil in the deep-end and watching them flail around until they figure out how to swim. I had been learning the symbols and been trained in music since I was a baby. But nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, prepared me for that first walk in death.”

Yoongi reaches his hand out then and lets it hover near Eunha, unsure if his touch is welcome. Eunha takes a deep breath and then grabs his hand, pulling it back to her lap. The familiar, welcome vibrations of his soul are soothing.

“It was terrifying,” Eunha whispers. “There were no souls, no other beings there. It was just my uncle, me, and the greyness of the river. But it called me. The river did. As if it were excited to meet me, to have me.”

Yoongi squeezes his hand around Eunha’s, sending a caring pulse through the soul connection. Eunha smiles down at their connected hands sadly.

“It ages you, especially when you’re that young, you know? That responsibility. That, I don’t know, that pull. Every single time I walk in death, I make a choice. A choice to not heed the call this time. A choice to ignore the insistent tugs of the water. A choice to live.”

“Oh, Eunha.” Yoongi’s voice is barely audible, cracking in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Eunha whispers. “I didn’t mean to burden you with all of this.”

“Not a burden,” Yoongi says firmly. “No more apologies, remember?”

Eunha nods, feeling grateful for his understanding. She takes a deep breath before continuing. She says, “I trained with my uncle until I was 13 years old. I had mastered the basics, I could walk through death blindfolded, and I was well on my way to the advanced spell crafting. Then my uncle had to go back to Seoul. I don’t know why. Something about his business here. I didn’t see him again until just before my 18th birthday, when he came back to finish my training.”

Eunha takes another deep breath and looks out the window. The night lights of Seoul are like stars fallen from the sky, twinkling and shimmering as they dance in the dark. The city lights shine bright and inviting against the velvety night sky, stretching as far as the eye can see. The view is breathtaking, Eunha thinks.

After a minute passes, she refocuses her attention back on their joined hands and the buzz of Yoongi’s soul. She’s positive now that she’s felt him like this, been allowed to have this, she will not be able to let it go.

“I wasn’t happy, with him being back,” Eunha says, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t want to train with him. I wanted nothing to do with death or magic. I wanted to be a music producer. I wanted to go back to Seoul, where I hoped I would fit it.”

She gives Yoongi a wan smile, looking at his face for the first time since they sat down at the couch. She can’t make eye contact though. That feels like too much.

“We fought. A lot. I felt horribly guilty most of the time. I was miserable. Or, well, I felt like I was the most miserable I could ever feel. Of course, looking back, it was not the worst. I was living relatively comfortably for a time. I was working part time at the local gas station after I graduated high school. We- Dan and I- we were saving up to move to Seoul, so I could be a PD.”

Eunha presses her eyes shut, pain flashing through her chest at the memory. She feels Yoongi give her hands a comforting squeeze.

“It wasn’t just a fight with my uncle. My parents were so disappointed in me. They wanted me to go to university and to train. I didn’t want either. Then, after that first year, there was- this incident- no, it was- well, I found out I was pregnant.”

This time, Eunha swallows, and a bright flush appears on her cheeks. The room is spinning a bit and it feels like she’s going to be sick. She focuses on the resonance of Yoongi’s soul where their hands connect.

She clears her throat before continuing with, “When it became clear I didn’t have any interest letting someone else raise the baby- my mom had suggested she raise her, we can’t have someone of our bloodline live outside the family. When they realized I had every intention of raising the baby myself and that I was going to keep avoiding my training, my education. Well, they cut me off. I think they were hoping I would come to my senses without any financial support. I didn’t.”

Yoongi huffs at her last sentences. He sounds more horrified than amused though. Eunha doesn’t look into his face again, afraid of what she’ll see there. Instead, her eyes remain fixed on their hands. Yoongi’s thumb is rubbing soothing arcs across the back of her hand. Small pulses echo along the vibrations of his soul.

There are lots of things Eunha doesn’t say out loud. The disappointment in her mother’s eyes the last time she saw her. Nor the last words her father ever spoke to her, “You’ll regret your choices.” Nor despite the guilt, fear, and sadness, Not the terror of bringing a baby into the world with no money, no family, no means of survival. But also not how Eunha felt the most hopeful and free she’d ever been. Of course, all of that was an illusion.

The silence engulfs them. Eunha lost in memories she’s not ready to say aloud, Yoongi not daring to interrupt.

“I’ve been running for so long,” Eunha says finally. “I’d gotten good at just putting one foot in front of the other. Until- until I was in that club and- despite everything- I don’t know. I can’t explain the feeling. I was worried for all of you, but I also was not worried for Mina. I knew she was safer with you, maybe safer than she’s ever been in her whole life. It made me feel horrible. I’ve done this to her. I’ve done this to you. To everyone around me. Just from putting one foot in front of the other.”

Yoongi stays quiet, watching Eunha as she sucks in her, trying to keep her composure. It’s slipping though. He feels his heart shattering into pieces in his chest, but not letting himself show his agony.

When Eunha’s breathing evens out, she says, “I feel safe here. And I feel stupid for feeling safe here. And then I feel guilty for feeling stupid. And I feel guilty because I keep putting everyone in danger. But I feel safe here and I’m so tired.”

Her voice breaks and she can feel tears brim over and fall down her face, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t want to break the stillness. Then all of the sudden, she’s buzzing, buzzing everywhere. Yoongi invades her space in the most welcome way, hugging her tightly to him. It feels like he’s everywhere. Eunha melts into the embrace, feeling the warmth of Yoongi’s body enveloping her. She feels safe and protected, like nothing could harm her as long as he is here, and she lets herself be lost in the illusion. She buries her head in his chest, inhaling his scent that is uniquely Yoongi. It’s a mix of musk, cologne, and something citrusy sweet.

Yoongi holds onto her tightly, rubbing circles on her back, humming comfortingly low in her ear. She sobs into his chest, letting out all the pain and hurt that she’s been holding onto for years. As she quiets down, she feels him place a soft, warm kiss on her forehead—not unlike how she settles Mina to sleep—and her heart bursts at the feeling of comfort and safety. She knows she’s never going to be able to let this feeling go.

When her tears run out and she finally pulls away from Yoongi, she feels lighter and freer than she has in a long time. She wipes away the tears from her face and looks up at him with a tentative smile. He returns it with a gentle one of his own.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Yoongi tsks at her, gently pushing her hair behind her ear, and Eunha grimaces a little sheepishly. As she leans back, Eunha becomes conscious of how close they are still sitting, their bodies almost touching. She feels her cheeks grow warm, but doesn’t move away. She knows she must look a mess with her red and puffy eyes, but Yoongi only looks at her with warmth and understanding. For a moment, they sit in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. Then Yoongi’s phone vibrates on the coffee table, interrupting their moment. He picks it up and frowns at the screen.

“I have to get this,” he says, standing up.

Eunha feels the loss immediately. Her skin almost crawls at the stillness, absence of the buzzing vibrations of Yoongi’s soul keenly felt. She wraps her arms around her middle to comfort herself. Yoongi steps away from the couch and goes toward the kitchen. His voice is low, his satoori thickening as he walks. Soon, she’s hearing the clanging of things in the kitchen and it sounds like Yoongi might be cooking something. Eunha feels an endeared smile tug at her lip.

As she waits for Yoongi to finish up his call, Eunha can’t help but let her mind wander. She thinks about the warmth of his embrace and how much it calmed her. It’s been a long time since she’s felt something like that, since she’s felt safe in someone’s arms. She knows that it’s dangerous to let herself lean so heavily on Yoongi, but she can’t help it. Somewhere in the last few weeks, he’s become an anchor.

As she sits there lost in thought, Yoongi emerges from the kitchen with a plate of food. “I hope you’re hungry,” he says with a small smile as he sets the plate down on the coffee table.

Eunha looks down at the food and sees that he’s cooked tteokbokki. The colorful array of sauce and rice cakes glisten in the light, coated with a thick layer of bright red sauce that drips from its edges. She can see flecks of sesame seeds and seaweed interspersed throughout the rice cakes. Her stomach growls at the sight. The spiciness tickles her nose, while the sesame and seaweed add an earthy and salty fragrance. The smell of the red sauce mixed with the rice cakes is heavenly, making Eunha’s mouth water in anticipation.

“I visited Dan today,” Eunha says, staring at the food in her bowl, as if telling the tteokbokki all her secrets. “I needed, I don’t know, I needed reassurance that what I’m doing now isn’t a mistake.”

She can feel the weight of Yoongi’s eyes on her, but she refuses to look up from the bowl in her hands. She can almost imagine him wondering what mistakes she might be making now.

“He warned me that there is trouble, but I guess we already knew that,” she continues.

“We can talk more about it tomorrow. Eat now,” Yoongi says, sitting down with his own bowl in his hands.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I’ll eat well,” she says as she starts to pick at the tteokbokki with the pair of chopsticks Yoongi handed her. The first bite explodes in her mouth, the spiciness dancing across her tongue. It’s delicious, and she can feel Yoongi’s eyes on her, watching her eat.

“This is amazing,” she compliments him between bites. Yoongi makes a small grunt noise to acknowledge the compliment.

They eat in comfortable silence, the sound of their utensils clinking against their plates the only noise filling the room. Eunha can feel her energy levels rising with each bite of food, and by the time she’s done eating, she feels re-energized and ready to face whatever comes next.

“Who was on the phone?” Eunha asks after she’s finished her last bite, desperate for a bit of normalcy.

“My eomma,” Yoongi says. “I normally call her on the weekend. She was worried because she hadn’t heard from me.”

Eunha feels a tightness in her chest and manages to say, “Oh.”

“She’d like you,” Yoongi says into his bowl.

Eunha watches the pink dust Yoongi’s cheeks. “Really?”

Yoongi hums in assent and then asks, “Are you done? I can put these in the dishwasher. It’s pretty late.”

Eunha nods and hands Yoongi her bowl. As Yoongi walks to the kitchen to wash their dishes, Eunha feels a sense of calm wash over her. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, feeling the knots in her stomach loosen. It’s not a feeling she’s used to experiencing.

When Yoongi comes back to the living room, he sits down next to Eunha. She can feel his warmth next to her and for a moment, she wonders what it would be like to just lean over and kiss him. She quickly pushes the thought away, knowing that it’s not a thought she should entertain.

“Thank you for dinner,” Eunha says softly. “It was delicious.”

Yoongi grins at her. “I’m glad you liked it.”

His grin brings back the thought she had just dismissed and suddenly nerves flood her whole body. She swallows and stands up. “You’re right. It’s late. I should, uh, I should go to bed. Good night.”

Then she bows at him, cringing at herself as she does it. She knows she’s gone bright red. So, she runs out of the living room, only slowing once she reaches the guest bedroom door. Once she’s inside the bedroom, a glance tells her Mina is still sound asleep. She turns to shut the door and softly bangs her forehead against the smooth wood in frustration. Well, that could not have been more awkward, she thinks.

Counselman Yong Songjin roars, pounding his fist on the table. His black tailored business suit fitting him perfectly, his black hair in a standard business cut staying perfectly coiffed, even as he bends over his desk in anger. His eyes glow red, betraying his vampiric self. He normally has such manifestations of his nature under control, but with the only other person in the room being his ghoul, he can forgo such niceties and let the mask slip.

Yong Suhwa nods solemnly and lowers her head respectfully. Her dark navy pencil skirt, sharp features, and the no-nonsense way she holds her body showing that her master’s rage is something she’s been used to for decades. “I don’t have an answer yet, Counselman. But I will soon. I’ll find out who is responsible.”

Counselman Yong sighs, pacing back and forth in front of the sky-high windows. He fumes as he looks at Seoul’s sparkling lights, as if they are all mocking him, as if the whole city is laughing at him. Counselman Yong takes a deep breath, his head spinning. He straightens his suit and strides back to the table, trying to collect his thoughts.

“This is insane,” he mutters under his breath. “I want the guest list for the dinner. I want to know who we invited that would dare betray us like this.”

He roughly runs a hand through his hair, lost in thought. “That video puts us in danger with the other covens. Find out who did it. And delete it from everywhere on the internet. I don’t care that it’s already trending.”

Yong Suhwa remains silent, her face blank. She knows her master and she understands this isn’t the time for words. She carefully shifts, already thinking of ways to mitigate this before all their hard work is undone.

“We already have the name of the guest who leaked the video,” the ghoul says, noting an email that just arrived in her inbox. “A businessman. A Kong Jakyung. Runs an import/export business.”

“Bring him here. Now. I want to know why he did this and then I want him dead,” the Counselman responds.

Yong Suhwa nods, already calling someone on her phone.

As Counselman Yong waits for the arrival of Kong Jakyung, he feels his blood boil with anger. How dare this businessman betray him and leak private footage to the public? Clearly, the work he’s been doing to either engender trust and loyalty or fear is not working as well as he’d like. He would have to up his game. And make an example of this Kong Jakyung.

Within the hour, Kong Jakyung is brought to the office, kneeling before Counselman Yong, his head hanging low in shame and fear. He’s an older man, still wearing a dark navy suit, despite the late hour. His face is gaunt, a bruise blossoming on his cheek. He did not come quietly. Counselman Yong stares at him coldly, his red eyes glinting in the dim light. He stands from his seat, towering over the distraught businessman.

“I have only one question for you, Kong Jakyung-ssi,” he states. His voice is as cold as his stare, giving life to the threat underlying his words. “Why would you betray us like this?”

Kong Jakyung flinches, his eyes flickering to Yong Suhwa before quickly looking back at the Counselman. “I-I’m sorry, Counselman. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Counselman Yong scoffs, unimpressed. “Do not insult my intelligence with such blatant lies. You knew exactly what you were doing when you leaked that video.”

Kong Jakyung fidgets, his eyes darting around the room, looking for someone to save him. “I-I didn’t have a choice. They were going to kill me if I didn’t do it.”

“They? Who are they?” The Counselman demands, taking a step forward.

“I can’t say,” Kong Jakyung says faintly. “They’ll kill me.”

The room is deathly silent for a long moment before Counselman Yong says, menacing voice barely loud enough to hear, “And you assume I will not kill you if you don’t tell me everything you know?”

“Puh- puh- please!” Kong Jakyung wails. He brings his hands, palms together, in front of his own chest. “I beg you. I have a family.”

“You should have thought of them before now, I think, Kong Jakyung-ssi,” Counselman Yong states. “Tell me who instructed you to leak the video.”

“So- So- So Chongyul-ssi,” Kong Jakyung wails, prostrating himself before the Counselman. “So Chongyul-ssi told me to leak the video.”

Counselman Yong’s eyes flick to Yong Suhwa in question. She shakes her head, not recognizing the name, but her fingers are already dancing across her tablet.

“Is that all you have?” the Counselman asks the crying mess of a man before him.

“I swear, that’s all, I don’t know anymore,” the man begs.

“Very well,” Counselman Yong says.

The man slumps in relief. Then, faster than the human businessman can track, the vampire is upon him, yanking his head back and to the side by his hair. He strikes then, sinking his teeth into the Kong Jakyung’s trembling neck, the man’s blood spurting into his mouth. The businessman lets out a brief, pained scream, before his breath stops all together and his eyes glaze over. The Counselman doesn’t let up from his prey, draining every last drop of blood from him before releasing his head and watching the lifeless body collapse onto the floor with a thud.

Yong Suhwa watches calmly as the Counselman wipes his bloodied mouth with a handkerchief.

“Dispose of him, but make it public. I want an example made of him. People brought into my circle of trust need to know not to cross me,” the Counselman says, gesturing to the body on the floor. “And get me everything you can on this So Chongyul-ssi.”

Yong Suhwa nods, already typing away on her tablet. She knows what the Counselman wants—he wants revenge. And she will make sure to give him everything he needs to get it. As she works, she can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement run through her at the Counselman’s display of power. She’s been serving him for decades now, and she knows what he’s capable of, but there’s something about tonight’s events that make her heart race with anticipation.

As the clean-up crew comes quietly into the office to remove the corpse, Counselman Yong turns to his ghoul. “Also, we need to do something drastic to distract the public. We need a scandal, a diversion- who is famous now in Seoul? The bigger, the better.”

The ghoul lifts her tablet, tapping away quickly on the screen. “Politician, perhaps?”

“No, no, too close to us,” he says with a shake of his head. “A celebrity?”

“What about musicians?” Yong Suhwa says, clicking on the trends through the tablet’s Naver app.

“Musicians?” Counselman Yong eyes her, looking skeptical.

“Do you know BTS?” she asks.

The counselman grunts in recognition. His mind is already whirling with the ways this could work in their favor. “Do they have any connections to the other covens? I don’t want this mess putting more heat on us from the other families.”

“No, they are notorious for not working for vampires,” Yong Suhwa says, still clicking through articles on her tablet. “In fact, this might be a good way to kill two birds, sir.”

“Make it happen, make sure it can’t be traced back to this office,” he says with a sharp nod.

Yong Suhwa nods briskly, tapping away some more on her tablet.

After a few moments, Counselman Yong straightens himself, looking out the window at Seoul again. “I had been so looking forward to the work ahead of us. We have made so much progress. We can’t falter now.”

Yong Suhwa steps up behind her master. Her voice is low and gentle. “We won’t falter, Counselman. We will find out who did this and we’ll make things right. We’ll use all the resources at our disposal.”

She places a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “And as for BTS, they are one of the hottest acts in Korea now. Their popularity is skyrocketing and they have a massive international following. If we can get them involved in some sort of scandal that we control, it could be an effective smokescreen to divert attention away from the video. We need to make sure every detail is airtight; there can’t be any loopholes for anyone to exploit.”

Counselman Yong nods slowly, considering her words. “Yes, that might just work. But be careful. We can’t afford any more missteps.”

Yong Suhwa bows her head respectfully before stepping back to continue her work on the tablet. The room falls silent as she begins planning their next move. She quickly searches through the various articles and reports on the group, noting their weekly activities and other engagements they have coming up. Walking towards the door, her fingers moving deftly over the screen, jumping from social media platform to social media platform, as she plots out how BTS will take the heat off their coven.

As she departs, Yong Songjin resumes his pacing through his office. His fury still pumps through his veins like molten lava, igniting a fire in his soul that won’t easily be extinguished. He is not just Counselman Yong Songjin, he is a vampire whose wrath will rain down upon Seoul and make it bow before him or face certain destruction.

Yoongi sets his phone down next to his glasses on the bedside table before rubbing the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. He knows he should sleep. Today was a very long day and tomorrow will most likely be just as long.

As he thinks back to the conversation he and Eunha had just had in the living room, he feels his heart splinter. Eunha and Mina both have already been through so much in their lives. Yoongi, with all his wealth and sway of public opinion, wish he could be more effective in protecting them.

Eunha had looked so small and vulnerable. He looks down at his own hands in his lap, remembering the feeling of her hands in his. Yoongi sits on his bed, closes his eyes, tilts his head back towards the ceiling, hitting the headboard as he groans, imagining what it would be like if he could just reach out and hold her anytime. If he could be the person to hold her.

He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts of Eunha out of his mind. But they persist, creeping up on him like a vine until he can’t ignore them anymore. Remember the feel of her forehead against his lips, he wonders what it would be like to kiss her, to feel her lips against his, and his heart rate picks up at the thought. Yoongi remembers the softness of her skin against his own. Yoongi bit his lip, unable to stifle the small smile that formed on his face from the warmth that filled his chest.

Without thinking, he stands up from the bed and walks over to the window. The cityscape is beautiful at this time of night, but he can’t focus on anything else but Eunha. He imagines her standing next to him, her head on his shoulder as they both take in the view. He leans over and presses his forehead against the cool glass. After a moment, he turns away from the window and takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in his head.

He groans in frustration, throwing himself back onto his bed. He knows he should get some sleep. Yet, sleep eludes him. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts out of his mind.

He decides to give up on sleep with his head so loud. He quietly leaves his bedroom and walks across the hall to his studio. If he can’t sleep, he might as well get some work done. The computer whirs on comfortingly after he presses the spacebar on his keyboard. The midis, too, blink on in anticipation of what’s to come.

As he begins to tinker with the different instruments and sounds on his computer, Yoongi hums softly to himself, lost in the music. His fingers glide effortlessly across the keys of the digital piano, trying out different sounds and adding layers of instruments until the song takes shape. He already has an idea of where Eunha can fit her own distinct sound into the song, a perfect blend of traditional Korean melodies and modern hip hop beats influenced by Western culture. All that was missing now was Eunha’s touch.

The hours fly by without him noticing, and soon he has crafted the perfect track. He leans back in his chair, exhausted but satisfied with what he has created. The restlessness that had plagued him earlier now seems to fade away, replaced by a sense of calm. With each note he perfects, he can feel his worries slipping away, replaced by a sense of contentment.

It’s only when the first rays of sunlight begin to creep into the room that Yoongi realizes how much time has passed. He stretches his arms above his head, feeling the satisfying ache in his muscles. As he gets up to stretch his legs, he feels a twinge in his back and groans, realizing he’s been hunched over his computer for hours. He takes a deep breath and rubs his sore neck before noticing Eunha standing at the door, her hair tousled from sleep. She raises an eyebrow at him, quirking her mouth into a small smile.

“Good morning,” she says softly.

Yoongi blinks in surprise before returning her smile. “Morning. Breakfast?”

“I’ll help,” she replies, nodding sleepily.

Yoongi nods, turning his computer back off after making sure everything is saved to the cloud. He turns back to Eunha who is still leaning in the doorway. He gives her another smile and, without thinking, reaches out his hand to connect with hers. His smile widens when she reaches out with her own hand without hesitation. He feels the wonderment explode in his chest as he says, “Okay. Let’s go.”

#thearmyprof #bts ff #bts fanfic #myg #bts fantasy au #fae bts #bts angst

3 notes · View notes

icedgroove · 4 years ago

Text

Her Last Partner, Ch.4 - All Is Fair In Love And Wrestling

Her Last Partner - (6209 words total)

Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand

Additional Tags: will they/won't they, Gay yearning, so much gay yearning, Secret Crush, Not Actually Unrequited Love, oh yeah catherine dies a bit in the first chapter but it's only a flesh wound, she's fine, Shh, mild necromancy, cathmir, Romance, Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Slow Burn, Pining

Summary: [CF] Shamir's feelings for Catherine are too hard to ignore, but when she confesses, Catherine isn't so sure she reciprocates or what she actually feels. Then, war breaks out and the two are separated! ========

It had been weeks of the same: Shamir getting and preparing food, arguing with Catherine about her taking her medicine, arguing with Catherine about remaining on bedrest, suppressing feelings that came up, waking up with Catherine’s arms around her no matter where she laid in bed. It had been interesting, but it was a bonding experience. No doubt, in Shamir’s mind, that they had gotten closer, which would make them more effective on missions. Anytime Catherine said something flirty, Shamir ignored it. Although she hated when people tried to flirt with her, with Catherine, it was amusing. Endearing, even. She knew Catherine wouldn’t ever mean it. Catherine cared about her too much for something so shallow. As the days went by, Shamir relaxed into Catherine’s embraces more and more. She woke up and snuggled into Catherine, who would snuggle back in her sleep. It was like a dream. But she couldn’t live in her fantasy world where Catherine, the Great had feelings for her -- loved her. It was hard for Shamir to admit, but she believed her feelings had blossomed far beyond simple infatuation. She saw all sides of Catherine, and she loved Catherine; her devotion ran deep. And her way of showing her love was to care for her and make sure she had healed properly. “It’s the last night,” Shamir said, holding up a vial with the last of Catherine’s medicine.

Sitting upright in bed, Catherine seemed to be daydreaming, but the announcement woke her up. “You’re serious? Tomorrow, I can get back to kicking ass?!”

Rolling her eyes, Shamir pushed Catherine back. “Focus on tonight, first.” She gave the vial to Catherine, who, for once, had no qualms about taking it. Shamir handed her a glass of water and let her drink it. “Oh, I can’t wait to get back out there! I gotta re--” “--repay your debt. I know. You talk about it enough.” Catherine looked at Shamir as if she had two heads. “ You have to repay yours, too, huh?” “I do.” Shamir slipped into bed. No clothes. With a grin, Catherine wrapped her arms around Shamir and shook her. “We’re just two peas in a pod, aren’t we?!” Having no idea what that meant, Shamir nodded. “Yes.” “Ahh, I can’t wait to have healed enough to finally beat you at arm wrestling!” Catherine said, giving Shamir a noogie. “Cass!” Shamir said, laughing. The two wrestled, to see who could pin the other down, laughing all the while. “That’s cheating,” Shamir declared, wincing from the weight on her twisted arm. “All’s fair in love and war!” Then Catherine’s battlecry rang out, and Shamir watched her do a victory lap around the bed before jumping back on top. “You still need to rest,” Shamir said. Her eyes flashed with concern as Catherine tried to hide a wince. Catherine waved her off. “I’m fine. You worry too much.” And she got a pillow to the face. “You need to rest . Not wrestle .” Turning on her side to face Shamir, Catherine looked at her with an intense gaze. “Come here?” she asked, voice soft, warm. Shamir would never understand why she was spoken to that way, why Catherine seemed to want her , a simple mercenary. But Shamir’s internal confusion didn’t stop her from rolling into Catherine’s arms. As they cuddled, Shamir let out a loud sigh. She felt a hand trace through her hair. “When was the last time a mercenary like you was cared for?” Shamir knew Fódlanders liked their double meanings, and she suspected one was used here. So, she asked, “What do you mean by ‘cared for’?” Catherine rested her head on Shamir’s, then huddled in close. Shamir was astounded by how well they fit together, like two puzzle pieces. “Like this,” was Catherine’s response. Shamir didn’t like vague answers; she turned around and faced Catherine. She found herself in the conundrum of what to do with her hands, so she rested one on Catherine’s hip. Facing Catherine was never an issue before, but how good it felt to cozy up to her warm, strong body. She was right; mercenaries like her never had the chance to enjoy such a feeling. Biting her bottom lip, Shamir looked down. She wanted to ask, she needed to ask how Catherine felt. Was it reciprocated? Was this how Catherine treated colleagues ? With a feather-light touch, Catherine moved a section of Shamir’s hair out of her face and behind her ear. “You’ve got a beautiful face,” she whispered, mouth parted. Why was Catherine saying such things? Was that being cared for? With a sharp inhale when Catherine’s hand cupped Shamir’s cheek, Shamir grabbed onto Catherine’s wrist. “Catherine, I… I need to tell you something.” Her brows furrowed; subconsciously, her fingers grazed the length of Catherine’s arm, then back to her fingers, resting atop. Catherine’s face twisted into one of concern. “Is everything alright? You’re not in danger, are you? I’ll kick everyone’s ass back to where they came from!” she said, ending with a yell. Shamir offered a small smile. “No more than usual,” she said. The smile dissipated. “It’s… important, though.” “Well?” Catherine went back to tracing Shamir’s face. “You can tell me. I’m here for you.” Thinking for a moment, Shamir shook her head. “No, not tonight. You have to be healed.” That caused Catherine’s brows to rise. “Are you challenging me to a duel?” “No.” Shamir chuckled. “I just want you to be well.” Catherine embraced Shamir, pulling their bodies close together. Shamir heard Catherine shudder as she pressed them closer. They stared at each other as if in a trance. “Cass,” Shamir said, a whisper that barely broke through that trance. With a hum, Catherine continued to play with Shamir’s hair, even massaging her scalp. Shamir did her best to suppress it, but a tiny moan came out. “Shamir,” Catherine breathed as she squirmed. Shamir was close enough to see how dilated her pupils were. “You… can you…” she mumbled, frustration evident as she couldn’t seem to get the words out. Her hand traced down to Shamir’s hip and she tugged it into her body as far as it would go. Trying to figure out Catherine’s grunts and vague gestures, Shamir asked, “You want me to kiss you?” That broke Catherine’s trance. “I…!” Shamir watched Catherine turn cold, at least in comparison to the heat she had been giving off before. “I… sorry. Sometimes, I can’t help myself!” Catherine said in a full, throat-y tone, coupled with a sheepish laugh. It sounded fake, desperate. “Didn’t mean to worry you, partner.” It was bittersweet, but at least it was Catherine’s turn to have to count to ten. “Meet me at the stone wall, by the Training Grounds tomorrow night?” Catherine’s facade continued. “I’ll be there! Anything for my partner.” She clapped Shamir’s shoulder twice, then turned, facing away from Shamir. What a confusing interaction. Why didn’t Catherine say what she wanted? Shamir would have gladly obliged, and Catherine seemed just as touch-starved. But she wouldn’t accept any cuddles, for the first time in weeks. Shamir shrugged. No use taking it personally; sometimes a person has to be as alone as they can to recuperate, and Catherine’s health came first. As long as they were ‘partners,’ Shamir would look after her and prioritize her health; in missions and otherwise. “Cass, rest well,” she said, placing a hand on Catherine’s hip. She didn’t stir. “For our future, I need to find out if you feel the same.” Tomorrow. It was happening tomorrow. Shamir felt, for the first time in a long time, hopeful. Ignoring the desire to kiss Catherine, Shamir fell into a restless sleep.

#fe3h #fe3h fanfiction #lgbtq #wlw #wlw fanfiction #cathmir #shamir #shamir nevrand #fire emblem three houses #catherine #catherine charon #fluff #romance #slow burn #oof cath

2 notes · View notes

albatris · 5 years ago

Text

GUESS WHAT TIME IT IS

IT’S RAPIDFIRE UNDERTOW CHARACTER RUNDOWN TIME YEEHAW LET’S GO

YOU CAN READ IT IF YOU LIKE

the setting: who the fuck knows

the time period: who the FUCK knows

the premise: amnesiac youth acquires a magically-enhanced sentient truck that runs on stories. because of reasons, she then embarks on a weird cross-country roadtrip, meeting equally weird people and investigating strange phenomena and curious magical goings-on. there is a ragtag gang of misfits and some world-saving involved also. and some dogs. yep

important caveat: this entire story is just my self-indulgent daydream universe. literally the entire thing? just for funsies. it’s my catch-all for ideas that don’t fit elsewhere. it’s my ridiculous worldbuilding melting-pot! it’s an excuse to string whatever wholesome and angsty moments I like together with whatever weird shit I think would be fun

the only motive behind anything I do in Undertow is “why the fuck not?” and that’s totally valid imo

and here we go. long post ahoy

the bastards:

ASTER (they/she): Conveniently amnesiac protagonist! Aroace and genderqueer! Woke up one day on the side of the road with the keys to a weird truck that runs on stories instead of fuel, and now uses delivery driving work as an excuse to careen all about the country collecting friends and solving magical mysteries. Vaguely clairvoyant and can ~speak~ with the energy-flow of the universe. Dresses like they’ve fallen straight out of a cyberpunk anime. Chatty, over-excited, impulsive. Extremely full of love.

important tunes: “overture” by sleeping at last, “timebomb” by walk the moon (weird choice for an aroace character but bear with me)

KIT (he/him): Not the first random Aster gets into shenanigans with but the first who tags along for further shenanigans and also becomes a protagonist. Pan. Wouldn’t know what a gender was if it punched him in the face. Highly skilled necromancer who straight-up doesn’t believe in magic, currently trying to fulfil the dying wish of his late wife (to reanimate a t-rex). Awkward and standoffish and lonely, tries to pretend he’s cool but just really really isn’t. Would rather set his entire self on fire than admit he considers Aster his best friend. Schizotypal synesthete whose fashion sense can be described as “how many clothes can I layer on top of each other before I physically cannot move?”

important tunes: “body” by mother mother, “hunting season” by fences, “necromancin dancin” by bear ghost

MEG (she/her): Mad scientist mechanic who does tonnes of magical illegal shit to cars for funsies. An expert on bizarre vehicles! This is the person you talk to if you, idk, happen across a strange truck with sentience that eats stories. She hates people and lives completely isolated in the middle of fuck-off nowhere with sixteen dogs. Completely unhinged. Thinks clothes are for losers so wears as few of them as possible and I want NO ONE making this a weird sexual thing. She’s just a feral bastard maniac. She’s living my weird feral bastard in the woods dreams. She has no interest in labelling her sexuality or gender, but both can be accurately summed up with “how dare you fucking look at me”

important tunes: “the machine” by lemon demon, “a mask of my own face” by lemon demon............ there’s just....... lemon demon songs here ok........ I haven’t yet found the songs with the Peak Meg Energies

NOLAN (he/him): Bastard. Chaotic bastard. Is of some relation to Kit, possibly an older brother, possibly just some dude who decided Kit looked like a fun person to annoy for all eternity. Speaks entirely in riddles and cryptic poems, loves needless melodrama. Dresses like he’s going to the beach even when he isn’t. He has zero motives beyond fun and chaos and boredom, which sometimes leads to him working with the protagonists and sometimes leads to him actively sabotaging them. Role in the story ranges from “genuinely terrifying villain” to “weird almost-friend who hangs around with the heroes even though no one invited him and is just a general endearing nuisance”. Literally cannot die, because he has some seriously impressive and terrifying subconscious reality-bending powers and it does not occur to him that he can die. So he doesn’t. Unrelated, he’s the only Undertow character besides Beth who canonically dies.

important tunes: “complicated creation” by cloud cult, “when he died” by lemon demon (peak Nolan chaotic energies)

BAKER (he/him): Meg’s apprentice? Meg’s assistant? Doesn’t really know that much about cars and I think he landed in the role because he misread the job advertisement, but he tries to be helpful anyway. Very small lesbian. Possibly some form of vampire except in reverse? Listen. I don’t know that much about Baker but one key fact is that he’s solar-powered and sometimes he’ll just lie down on the floor unconscious mid-task and you have to haul him over your shoulder and lob him into the sunlight and wait for his energy to recharge. Easily flustered, hardworking, pleasant enough but not super great at Peopling. Also gets possessed at one stage but he gets better so it’s nbd

important tunes: “pink smoke” by the scary jokes, “featherstone” by the paper kites

???????? (??/??): The main villain. The big bad. I have no idea if this is a thing that has a physical form or if it’s just an abstract floaty intangible concept. This is the thing that briefly possesses Baker. This is also the thing that one-shot kills Nolan. Possibly it’s some kind of river-surface reflection monster that steals your face and becomes a fucked up version of you except it accidentally reflected some kind of ancient god and now the whole world is screwed. Possibly it’s the gradual marching of the universe towards death except that marching gained sentience and is incredibly frightened. Who the FUCK knows. Not me.

important tunes: “dead moon” by brick + mortar, “ruler of everything” by tally hall

other bastards who exist. vaguely. probably:

CARDS (xe/xem): Gentle, patient, good at growing herbs and reading tarot cards. Xe’s married to Meg. Literally no one knows this because they hardly ever interact and they don’t live together and when they do interact people are generally like “huh, Meg doesn’t seem to despise Cards quite as much as she despises everyone else” but like. They’re happily married. Also xe’s called Cards because xir last name is “Cardone”. This is a fact that I stole from someone I’ve met in real life, because no one is safe from my terrible thieving writer hands

BETH (she/her): Kit’s late wife. She’s a ghost. She has lots of opinions about things. She’s not here in the story because of any necromancy or raising the dead on Kit’s part. She refuses to die out of pure spite. She’s got shit to do. She likes heavy metal and writing romance novels. These are currently the only facts I know about her. Thank you

FERRIS (she/her): Her last name is Wheel. She is a character I created specifically because I realised that Ferris Wheel is a name that you could actually for real name someone. I can’t decide if it’s funnier if this character’s name is Ferris Wheel in a world where ferris wheels exist but she herself has never been exposed to the concept of one so she doesn’t understand why all the other characters are like “??????” when they first meet her, or if this character’s name is Ferris Wheel in a world that is essentially just Earth But Magic, save for the fact that the exact, specific concept of a ferris wheel was never invented. Also she’s a businesswoman.......... also she can levitate...... also she’s a lesbian

ok that’s it bye thanks love you

#this is not all the characters by any means but this is like #the main ragtag gang of misfits who somehow end up teaming up to stop the destruction of the world or whatever #for one reason or another #with the exception of the main villain of course LMAO #anyway this is just like......#the most inconvenient way i could ever relay any amount of information #while i was typing this i was like #''this would all be so much easier to parse if it was in comic sans powerpoint format''#and now that all this information is here like......... this is the info that would go in the powerpoint anyway #but the FACT of the matter IS that i'm lazy #and i only have good drawings done of aster kit and meg #anyway #ta-da #undertow #there's a lot going on in this post I'm sorry idk if any of this is like.................#interesting? to anyone who's not me?? but i thought it would b fun anyway #this is another one where u can play the fun game of ''can u spot the shameless self-projection?''#river monster is actually the envisioned villain i had for Ruby Pace Floats Down The River but who fuckin knows if #THAT'S a wip that's ever going to be acknowledged by me #river monster is not shameless self projection #it's important to me that you know i am not a river monster #thank you #the only important fact in this entire post is that Baker is small enough to be picked up and carried with ease

95 notes · View notes

hurricane-overseas · 7 years ago

Note

WHO IS THIS NECROMANCY OC asking for a friend ;3c

😭😭 bless u for ur ask (also my oc is just what happened after I listened to hoziers album on repeat for 2 hours and had a long daydream) also I apologize in advance, I can’t tell whether I’ve told you who my oc is or if I’ve just talked about the dumbshit they’ve done (this is also my oc for When The Night Comes)

- So /their/ name is Tandim Nox, (I’m trying to draw them but goddamn I cannot get the face but the sigils they’ve got tattooed are subpar-they’ve got an aesthetic going) they have short grey hair that’s always tied back and messy, dark eyes and a tongue that doesn’t think before saying anything (it’s sometimes witty but usually just gets them in trouble)

- Had previously lived with their parents in a large city-life was fine if boring there and they studied herbalism/healing magick but has always lowkey pursued necromancy by working in a catacomb and telling their parents they’re just selling flowers to the catacomb for blessings or smth but really it’s more just learning how to prepare bodies so they can safely raise spirits and gain knowledge from the dead

- So they’re a young wannabe necromancer with minimal training, who has stumbled upon Lunaris, the tiny coastal town and once they heard the rumours of creatures killing in the night-well they wanted to offer their expertise

(deadass almost walked up to an enforcer like “where’s the body, lemme see, lemme talk to it for a few n see what happened”)

- (still working out how they’d help if they can’t physically say they’re a necromancer out loud and get first dibs on the corpses lmao)

- Maybe they check out the cemetery after hours and dig around until they find some answers & they leave written clues for the hunter/the gang (“Seamus Sea-Walker said he was murdered early morning on the 12th and although he didn’t see what killed him he’s glad he doesn’t have to pay the ridiculous shop prices anymore and also someone needs to water his plants-“)

- Is like a walking shitposter constantly saying dumb things that have almost gotten them caught ie. “we raise spirits, not bones-oh hi Augustus- because necromancy is illegal here haha”, just for the life of them cannot stop themselves from looking suspicious

(they desperately miss the kind necromancy folks from the city’s catacombs because they’d laugh at Tandims jokes)

- Grew up with a positive/it’s not evil outlook on necromancy and it wasn’t illegal in the city they lived in previously (other than the no-skeleton-armies rule or demon possession)

- Tandim Cannot Believe The Bullshittery™️- they’ve put guards up in the cemetery to watch for whoever has been digging up the corpses

- Some random tavern man: “can you believe someone has been digging up the cemetery? Leaving anonymous notes for the enforcers-“

- Tandim just “oh wow, really? Huh that’s weird who would-I’m just gonna take these breadsticks-I’ve gotta go-but that’s so strange wow”

- Sends not-so subtle letters to Augustus/lieutenant complaining about the bullshit that is the no necromancy law (“if someone can help figure out who is doing the killing, why prosecute them? Necromancers raise spirits not bones” now where has Augustus heard that before? 👀)

- It’s very obvious there’s only one new person who has moved into town and all of a sudden the cemetery is being dug up and strange letters are being sent to enforcers- Tandim didn’t think that far ahead and is a nervous ball of energy after being questioned and followed by an enforcer for a few days

Anyways this was hilarious to write so thank you for asking ❤️ Tandim is a soft idiot who just wants to help (Augustus) the gang figure out the murders ahem ((also have y’all seen Lieutenant Harold cuz goddamn 👀, can the devs let us romance that man please??))

#I literally have 30 pages on google open about necromancy lmao #‘why be a necromancer’ ‘what’s cool about necromancy’ ‘is necromancy evil’ ‘how do you get into necromancy’#see also ‘is catacomb the right word for underground cemetery’#my oc is an soft idiot and a reflection of my dumbassery #when the night comes

6 notes · View notes

lovelygalaxy333 · 4 years ago

Text

this seems fun !! thanks for tagging me

zodiacs this or that

Scorpio: Maroon or Black. Opal or Topaz. Dahlia or Chrysanthemum. Horseradish or Peppercorns. Parasailing or Deep diving. Photography or Poetry. Garlic or Onion. Hot Spring or Sauna. Necromancy or Poison Specialists. Lizard or Snake. Living on a desert island or Cabin in the woods. Bass or Guitar. Cabernet Savignon or Brandy. Darkness Manipulation or Emotion Manipulation (magic). Eagle or Wolf. Paintball or Laser tag. Telepathy or Invisibility. Cactus or Joshua tree. Virgo or Capricorn.

+ groups you stan & 1st song you heard by them

(g)i-dle: latata ateez: pirate king blackpink: d4 bts: boy w/ luv exo: love shot mamamoo: hip monsta x: who do u love? nct: boss oneus: a song written easily seventeen: home stray kids: double knot txt: crown

+ academia tag

dark academia (8/10)

reads fantasy // enjoys rainy days // homebody // introverted or ambivert // wardrobe is in dark neutral shades // quiet but witty // can actually get work done // can write amazingly // gives good hugs // quiet passionate

light academia (5/10)

loves the aesthetic of old europe // scrolls pinterest a lot // wardrobe full of whites and beiges // reads the classics // can read relationships (platonic and romantic) really well // loves animals // always tidy and neat // loves spring // makes friends easy // daydreams

chaotic academia (6/10)

messy room // stays up late // coffee and more coffee // oversized clothes // cries a lot // watches movies late at night on laptop // tragically sleep deprived // loves art // pines for someone // reads romance

romantic academia (--/10)

soft sort of aesthetic // pink lipstick and rose perfume // can read poetry // hopeless romantic // wardrobe full of soft colours // loves the faerie side of fantasy // stop and smell the roses kind of person // struggles to focus in class // loves nature // social butterfly

tagging: @no-heart-no-soul-t @moonbeamsung @key201303 @qianinterprises @angelhee + anyone else who wants to do this!! (you are not obligated to do this, lmk if you don’t want me tagging you anymore)

— tag game(s)

a series of tag games @masterninjacow tagged me in. i might’ve suffered an identity crisis while trying to get through this but at least, i had fun. (½ because my phone wouldn’t load in the whole thing.)

Keep reading

#tag games #🏷️. neo shitty

7 notes · View notes

shell-senji · 8 years ago

Text

Gajevy Week 2017: A Surreptitious Suitor, Chapter 6

Home stretch... Chapter 6 of my Gajevy week story! (Chapter 5 is here.) Thanks for sticking around! There’ll be an epilogue to follow shortly.

Read HERE on fanfiction.net.

Day 7 Prompt: Marriage/Living Together

Levy hummed tunelessly as she worked, Gale-Force reading glasses in place, lips curved in a self-satisfied grin.

Rather than sorting books to be reshelved, today she was seated in one of the offices behind circulation, adding new acquisitions to their collection, entering the data into their catalog, and then labeling each spine carefully.

Those that had been donated by patrons got special acid-free, archival-quality bookplates on the inside cover indicating the date and name of the donor.

Levy loved doing this because she got a sneak peek at both newly published books as well as content not previously part of their inventory.

It was a book lover’s paradise.

Oh, how pretty, she thought, enjoying the images in The Bride’s Bouquet Guide. She indulged herself momentarily, allowing her mind to wander and picture her and Gajeel marrying.

Setting it aside once she’d shaken off her daydream, Levy reached for the next book and rolled her eyes.

Caring for Cocks.

About raising roosters.

It had been donated by Bickslow.

She sighed. I suppose I should admire his creativity. But I don’t even want to know how he knew I’d be working on newly acquired books.

Truly an obscure title, to be sure, but Levy supposed someday it might come in handy for some fowl-loving individual.

As she’d suspected, the next book was donated by him as well.

Dick’s Fairy.1

Contrary to any prepubescent thinking, it was merely a very dated anthology of juvenile fiction.

She made a mental note to, in spite of her better judgment, ask Bickslow where he’d found it, given her love for antique and out-of-print works.

Levy counted her blessings that these two had simply been cases of innuendo. Unfortunately, she’d been a bit premature in doing so.

Roughly an hour later, having put Bickslow and his shenanigans out of her mind, Levy picked up the last newly donated book.

And promptly dropped it, a small squeak of surprise forcing its way past her lips.

Intercourse in Elysium: Coitus Once You Kick the Bucket.2

What very likely qualified as hysterical laughter bubbled up out of her, and she doubled over in her chair.

When she’d regained a modicum of control and wiped the tears from her eyes, she sat back up.

And found herself face-to-face with Gajeel.

Who stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.

It’s a distinct possibility.

By way of explanation, Levy picked up and then held up the source of her hilarity.

“Dead people. Having sex, Gajeel! Corpse copulation! Well, okay, more like their spirits, but…” She trailed off.

He paused, seeming to search for appropriate words. Finally, in utter bafflement, he said, “What the actual fuck?”

Biting her lip to stave off further laughter, but failing as a snicker escaped, Levy simply said, “You have no idea.”

Eager to spend time with Gajeel rather than working, she finished cataloging this final book and placed the bookplate naming Bickslow as the donor inside the front cover.

Then, she stood up, brushed off her dress, and smiled at Gajeel. “So what brings you to the library?”

“Oh, I, uh, was just on this side of town and, uh, thought I’d walk home with ya. If you’re done?”

Levy nodded, and then felt her cheeks warm when he threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her gently toward the exit.

As they wandered through the Magnolia streets, she glanced over at Gajeel.

“You know, that author might not be completely nuts,” she said, referring to the afterlife sex manual.

Gajeel snorted. “Think he’s on to somethin’?”

“Well, who knows what happens after we die. I will say one thing, though. If he’s right, it sure puts the romance back in necromancy,” she deadpanned.

Gajeel barked a laugh. “Shrimp, that’s bad. Really, really bad.” He paused thoughtfully, and then said, “gives a whole new meaning to stiff.”

Levy dissolved into a fit of giggles, and Gajeel accompanied her with his signature “gi hi.”

Ignoring the stares they drew as they walked toward Fairy Hills, they cracked one bad pun after another and laughed like a pair of hyenas.

Upon arrival, Gajeel turned to Levy and spoke seriously, “So that book donation thing…”

Levy nodded and waited for him to continue.

“You, uh, ever take donations to your personal library? For safekeeping of rare items?” he asked quietly.

She grinned. “But of course! I’ve even worked with Freed to enchant my collection against damages like water, fire… You know, potential threats all too plausible given our guild mates. Why?”

He fidgeted a bit with the hem of his shirt before answering, “I, uh, got somethin’ I’d like to donate, so to speak… If you don’t mind, ’course.”

Levy stared at Gajeel momentarily, transfixed by the hint of pink dusted across his cheekbones. He looks so cute when he blushes.

Giving herself a mental shake, she replied, “I’d love to! What is it?”

He handed her a slender paperback. “Only one like it in Earthland. It’s an anthology of Edo-Gajeel’s articles, stuff he considered his best work or simply his favorites. He gave me a copy when we met.”

Levy’s mouth dropped open, and she shoved the book back toward him. “I-I… I can’t take this!”

“Oh really? Mmm…that’s a damn shame, Shorty. I was hopin’ you’d keep it safe for me. What with you bein’ a book expert and all.” He tweaked her nose playfully, and she swatted his hand away.

“Oh, you… Fine. I won’t lie—I would love to add such a one-of-a-kind book to my inventory. And you’re right about it being safer with me.” She smiled when he handed it back to her, and she tucked it carefully under her arm. “Thank you, Gajeel.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me with something so important to you! It means a lot.” Levy rose up on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his in a featherlight kiss, noticing that his cheeks had become markedly more pink than before.

Gajeel mumbled, half to himself, “Killin’ my self-control, Shrimp.” He coughed and said more audibly, “I, uh, gotta go meet Lily. Thanks for looking after my book. See ya later!”

And then the iron dragon slayer fled Fairy Hills, leaving a giggling Levy in his wake.

She shook her head, partly wishing he would lose some of his self-control and partly amused at his awkwardness.

When she entered her apartment, going to find a place for Edo-Gajeel’s book, she spotted an unfamiliar book on her desk.

The small older-looking leather-bound tome had a title in gold script that caused her to clench her teeth angrily. On the Matings of Dragons.

Oh, that perverted Seith son of a bitch.

I’m going to kill Bickslow. Slowly and painfully.

When she shoved the book out of the way, it rotated, and she saw a bookmark barely sticking out of the pages.

Unable to resist her curiosity, even irritated, she opened to the marked page.

The bookmark was, in fact, a note.

Since he doesn’t seem to realize or remember that you’re neither a dragon nor a dragon slayer, I thought you might need some help. ~Lily

Her anger faded at the Exceed’s thoughtfulness, and she mentally granted Bickslow a stay of execution.

Then, Levy began reading the pages faintly yellowed with age, and what she read made her heart race.

“When male dragons become interested in a female, they will often leave gifts for her covertly in her den. The female, using scent, will determine which of the males she likes best and consent to courtship. Following this courting period, once a male finds her sufficiently invested, he will offer her an invaluable piece of his treasure. Not only does this signify he wishes to make her his mate, permanently, but it also is symbolic—he is trusting her with a prized possession. His heart.

“To accept the mateship, the female will return his gesture, surreptitiously leaving a gift for him.”

The following day, Gajeel came home to find a surprise.

On his kitchen table was a small solid script “iron” like Levy had made for him so many times in the past.

Attached to it was a tiny post-it with one word written on it.

Yes!

Author’s Note: ’Twas sappy fluff, I readily admit it. Oh, and as to where Pantherlily found that book? A cat never reveals his secret.

Footnotes:

1. An actual book. Published in 1883 by Silas K. Hocking.

2. Though this title is entirely fictional, similar works exist. *shudder* Anyone interested may find them on their own.

#gajevyweek #gajevy week #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #gajevyweek17

16 notes · View notes

thearmyprof · 2 years ago

Text

Endless Sea, but the water is warm here Ch. 9

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Original Character

Word count: 6493

Chapters: 9/?

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Idol!AU, Canon Divergent,

Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content

Overview post: https://at.tumblr.com/thearmyprof/endless-sea-but-the-water-is-warm-here/h8ruhjcuzs62

Summary:

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45497923

Full Tags:

CHAPTER NINE.

Much to Yoongi’s surprise, once the cake is distributed among the children, the whole party quiets down. Each child murmuring happily while stuffing the sugar and frosting into their mouths. Mina sits nearby at a small child size table with other young party goers quietly eating her slice of cake. Yoongi watches fondly as she carefully keeps herself in her own bubble while still being near the other kids.

Where the hell did Kim Seokjin go? Yoongi gives the room a cursory glance, but his comrade is nowhere to be seen. Yoongi scoffs under his breath at the audacity of tricking him into babysitting at a kids’ birthday party and then leaving him alone at said birthday party.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and decides to make the most of his time at the party. He walks over to Mina’s table and sits down next to her.

“Hey there, kid, how’s the cake?” Yoongi asks with a small smile.

Mina glances at him before returning to finishing up the last bites of her cake. Yoongi chuckles to himself.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before Yoongi spots Seokjin coming in from another part of the apartment. He’s smiling and chatting with an older woman that Yoongi thinks might be Jin’s aunt. Yoongi contents himself with sending daggers to his hyung with his eyes.

“Yoongi-chi!” Seokjin says amiably, walking over to the short table Yoongi and Mina are sitting at. “Having a good time?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, “You left me alone with a bunch of hyperactive children and, worse, their gossiping mothers, what do you think?”

Jin chuckles under his breath and attempts to plaster an apologetic look on his face. He says, “Just catching up with some family members. Sorry for leaving you alone for a bit. Besides you have Mina-yah!”

Yoongi grumbles but decides not to dwell on it. Both men silently watch Mina as she finishes up her cake and pulls her book out of her pocket.

“You brought a book to a party?” Jin asks in exaggerated incredulity.

Yoongi chuckles. Mina ignores them both.

They sit quietly for a while, watching Mina read and the other children start to wake up from their cake-induced reveries. The children begin to run around the apartment, loud and hyper. Seokjin smiles fondly at them, while Yoongi merely shakes his head in amusement.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the room, followed by the sound of clinking glass shards and a panicked cry from one of the mothers. Yoongi quickly turns to see what has happened and notices that one of the children had spilled a drink onto the floor causing it to shatter. He looks around to Mina, but she seems unbothered by this incident as she continues reading her book. Yoongi smiles at her concentration before looking to see if his help is needed in cleaning it up. It seems Jin and his aunt have things under control.

Once they finish cleaning up, the party begins to wind down and everyone says their goodbyes. Yoongi stands up and stretches his legs. The kids are getting ready to leave with their parents, and Mina is packing up her book. Seokjin is chatting with the other mothers, thanking them for coming and saying goodbye to the kids.

Yoongi walks over to Mina and crouches down next to her. “Hey, I hope you had a good time,” he says, smiling at her.

She looks up from her book and nods once.

“Let’s go?” he asks and holds out his hand palm up in offering.

She tucks her book into the large pocket of her dress and reaches out to tuck her tiny hand in his.

Jin decides to go with them back to the apartment, rather than stay with the remaining gossiping mothers by himself. The three of them reach Yoongi’s car and he unlocks it with a beep. Mina waits for help getting into her seat in the back, her feet not even close to reaching the floor. Yoongi chuckles to himself at how small she looks in his big SUV.

As they drive, Mina is quiet, as usual, retreating back into her book. Jin is boisterously filling the silence, throwing jokes towards the back seat in hopes of getting a giggle—or any noise at all, really—out of Mina. He tells Yoongi he’s positive that one of these days a joke will land. Yoongi pats his shoulder in mock comfort.

When they arrive in the lobby of the apartment, they are met by two men in matching navy blue suits having a stand-off with the building security.The concierge behind the counter is standing, arms crossed, looking perturbed by the drama unfolding in their lobby. The suited men stand in their shiny black shoes and stern expressions on their faces, their eyes predatory and fixed on the security guard. There is a deafening silence, each movement carefully measured and calculated. No one speaks, but the tension in the air is palpable.

“Ah, sir,” one of the building security lights up in recognition as they enter the lobby. “These, uh, gentlemen are inquiring after you.”

“This is highly irregular,” the concierge scoffs from behind their desk, but doesn’t move.

The two men in suits turn to face Yoongi, ignoring the concierge. One of them tugs slightly at his jacket, eyeing Yoongi up and down before saying, “Min Yoongi-ssi?”

Yoongi pauses for a moment and takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. With his exhale he mentally dons his ‘public’ persona, ready to deal with whatever bullshit these men have in store. He steps carefully forward, pulling Mina behind himself, keeping her hand in his. He nods curtly at the suits and says, “Yes, I’m Min Yoongi.”

The two men exchange knowing looks before stepping forward with identical serious expressions on their faces. Then one pulls out an ID wallet from his inner pocket. He shows it to Yoongi. Yoongi squints at the ID, noting the government seal, but the man pulls it back before he can read any of the details.

“We’re here on government business,” the taller man in suits says, tapping the badge he just showed him for emphasis. “We require your presence for some questions.”

It’s clear from their demeanor and tone they are expecting cooperation as opposed to resistance. They don’t look intimidating exactly but there’s something about them that puts Yoongi’s guard up higher than usual—from the way one of them keeps glancing behind him to how the other man’s fingers twitch near his pocket for a split second when they take another step closer towards him.

Yoongi feels Mina’s grip tightening on his hand. He squeezes back, trying to send reassurance through this palm. He wonders for a brief moment if Mina can feel souls by touch the way her mother can. He files that question away for later.

Turning to Jin, who had come up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him at some point during the conversation, Yoongi nods, silently telling him to take Mina upstairs. Jin tilts his head in understanding and holds his hand out for Mina.

“Come on, Mina-yah,” Jin says calmly. “Let’s go find your eomma.”

Mina pauses for a moment and Yoongi is sure she’s not going to let go of his hand and go to Jin. She looks up at Yoongi who smiles and nods with some kind of confidence he doesn’t actually feel. She looks back at Jin and then steps toward him. Slowly, slowly she releases Yoongi’s hand.

He can’t feel souls, but his hand still feels empty at the loss.

Mina doesn’t take Jin’s hand but still follows him through the lobby toward the elevator. Yoongi watches them go before turning his attention back to the men in suits.

“We can have this conversation at my lawyer’s office. I’ll give you the address and you can meet me there,” Yoongi says definitively.

The men exchange a quick glance before nodding in agreement. “Very well, we will follow you there.”

Yoongi nods curtly, hands them a business card from his wallet with his lawyer’s information on it, and turns to walk towards the exit. He can feel the weight of their stares on his back as he walks, but he keeps his cool and heads towards his car. Once inside, he takes a deep breath and tries to relax. He has dealt with situations like this before, but there is still a sense of unease that lingers in the back of his mind.

Before he pulls out of the parking garage he sends text messages to the BTS group chat, his lawyer, their manager, and security. He pauses trying to decide if he should send something to Eunha as well, but decides Jin will update her better than a text message can.

He drives to his lawyer’s office in silence, the men in suits following him in their own car. As they pull up to the building, Yoongi gets out of his car and walks towards the door without looking back at the men who are following him. His lawyer, Mr. Park, meets him at the door.

“Min Yoongi-ssi,” Mr. Park greets him politely with a bow.

Yoongi nods in acknowledgement before turning to the two men. He says, “These are, I’m sorry I didn’t catch your names or what agency you work for.”

The taller man speaks up, “It’s not important at the moment, Mr. Min. We’re here on official government business and that’s all you need to know.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at the man’s curt response, cutting a glance to his own lawyer who looks annoyed, but decides not to push the issue for now. He follows Mr. Park into his office and takes a seat, gesturing for the men to do the same.

“Before we begin, may I ask what this is in regards to?” Mr. Park asks calmly.

The shorter man speaks up this time, “We’re investigating a matter that involves someone Min Yoongi-ssi had previous contact with.”

While keeping his outward appearance as neutral as possible, Yoongi’s mind whirls through everything that has happened recently, trying to connect anything to something that would have the government knocking on his door. He immediately remembers the conversation in his dining room with Eunha. The words “unsanctioned murder” flit through his mind. Why would the government care about the death of a vampire though?

“I see,” Mr. Park says. “Well, I will advise Min Yoongi-ssi to not answer any of your questions until I have heard what they are. If I deem it appropriate, he may answer. I would prefer these questions were given to us in writing, but I understand you may be under time pressure. Not that we would know that for certain, since you’ve not told us what this investigation is about.”

The two men scrunch their faces in annoyance, but after a glance at each other, it’s clear neither is going to argue with the lawyer.

Yoongi leans back in his chair, feeling a sense of ease wash over him knowing that Mr. Park is in control. He lets the two men stare at him in silence, their eyes piercing and unyielding.

As the moments tick by, Yoongi’s mind wanders back to Mina and Eunha. He wonders what Eunha is doing right now and if she’s aware of what’s happening. He knows Jin well enough to know he’s taking care of everything. Still, he can’t help but feel a sense of unease and worry for everyone. His hands itch to pull out the phone his buried in his pocket and check the messages.

The silence in the room continues to stretch on, each passing second feeling longer than the one before it. Yoongi can see the two men getting more agitated by the lack of response from him and Mr. Park, but trying to decide on the best questions to ask. He can practically hear their thoughts racing to find a way to get what they want out of him.

Finally, Mr. Park breaks the silence once more. “We will need concrete and specific questions from you in order to proceed with this conversation,” he says calmly.

The taller man leans forward in his chair, a calculated glint of determination in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “First, do you know anything about a Park Donghyun-ssi?”

Yoongi blinks at the two men. He glances at his lawyer, who tilts his head indicating Yoongi can speak if he chooses to. Yoongi says, “I’ve heard the name, but I’ve never met him.”

“So, it wouldn’t mean anything to you if we were to inform you that Park Donghyun-ssi was found dead this morning, caught on a bridge piling in the Han?”

Yoongi winces at the imagery. “I would say that sounds gruesome, but I don’t know anything about it.”

“Alright,” Mr. Park breaks in before anyone else can speak again. “I think that’s enough. If this is a murder inquiry, I am going to have to ask you to make an appointment during business hours and to come with a warrant for interrogation.”

The men exchange a glance again, clearly frustrated with the lack of information they were able to extract from Yoongi. As they stand up to leave, the taller man turns to Yoongi and says, “We’ll be in touch, Min Yoongi-ssi, Mr. Park.”

Yoongi simply nods and watches Mr. Park show the men out of the office.

Once he’s back he says, “Unfortunately, I’m not privy to government investigations, so I don’t know what they hope to accomplish with this act. We’ll just have to wait and see if anything else comes up.”

There’s a knock at the door and a moment later Kim Minkyu steps in the office. Yoongi settles into his chair. He knows he’s going to be a while filling in the head of security on everything that just happened and coming up with a strategy for moving forward.

Soon Na Minjae, BTS’s head manager, and Namjoon arrive to also be caught up and brought into the strategy meeting. With the suits gone and some of the direct pressure taken off of him, Yoongi furtively sneaks glances at his phone, checking for text messages.

He scrambles when he finally gets a notification. A text message from Jin telling Yoongi to call.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Yoongi says, standing to step out of the office as he talks. He’s dialing Jin’s number before the door is even shut behind him.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asks.

Jin gives out a pulse of a laugh, as if he’s nervous. Adrenaline surges through Yoongi’s veins.

“Everything is fine, Yoongi-yah,” Jin says. “But, uh, Eunha is here and she seems a bit...preoccupied?”

“What does that mean, hyung?” Yoongi asks, mind drawing blanks as to what could be happening at his apartment.

Jin lets out a slow exhale before he says, “Well, uh, what, uh, what does it look like when someone has gone into death?”

“Hey, Mina, it’s so nice to meet you. You’re so beautiful.”

Eunha carefully takes a picture with her phone, eyes watering as Daniel meets Mina for the first time. He doesn’t even notice, eyes only for the small green blanketed bundle carefully nestled in his arms. His smile is wide. His face is partially hidden behind the long brown hair that’s hanging to his shoulders, concealing his profile as he looks down at the baby. Eunha lets her eyes wander over his blue cardigan hanging open to reveal the worn white tee underneath. His jeans, ripped at the knees, end with his equally worn black boots. What strikes Eunha the most as she silently appraises her best friend, is how very young he looks, even while holding someone much younger than himself.

After several minutes, he finally looks up to Eunha, his eyes full of tears, “She’s beautiful, E. She’s clearly all you.”

Eunha lets out a wet laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

Eunha can feel her cheeks warming pink from the attention. She looks around the quiet hospital room trying to distract herself from the awkwardness she’s feeling. A light scent of baby powder and freshness fills the air, with the faintest hint of antiseptic that lingers in the background. The room itself has sterile white walls and harsh fluorescent lighting. There’s no flowers, no balloons, no indications of the joyous arrival of new life. She glances back at the pair sitting next to her hospital bed. Dan’s eyes are already back on the baby in his arms. Mina stares up at his face with black eyes, as if waiting for him.

“I don’t know, there might be a little of her dad in there,” Eunha says.

“Let’s hope not,” Daniel chuckles darkly. Eunha feels her heart twist a little in her chest.

“Dan,” she says.

“No, it’s okay. Let’s not right now. I’m just glad you’re both okay,” he says.

Eunha frowns, but nods. She watches as her best friend runs a soft finger tip along Mina’s pudgy cheek.

“What did the doctors say? When can you both leave?” he asks.

Eunha rubs a tired hand across her eyes, feeling a twinge of pain in her abdomen. “Uh, well, they want to observe me for a couple more days, I think. I hate it here, Dan.”

“I know. Just a couple more days, okay?” he says as he reaches a comforting hand to pat Eunha’s thigh over the thin hospital blanket.

“It’s so noisy here,” Eunha whines.

As if to punctuate her complaints, the hospital room’s silence is deafening and oppressive. There is a low hum of machines and beeping monitors, but underneath lies an eerie stillness that permeates the room.

After a minute, Dan snorts, shattering the tense moment. “I see what you mean.”

“You know what I mean,” Eunha says with a pout. Her brow furrows in thought. “It’s them. They are loud.”

“Who?” Dan says, clearly only half listening as he makes another smiley face at the baby in his arms. He glances up at Eunha when she doesn’t respond. He smiles at her pout. “Oh, the dead, you mean? Yeah, I guess hospitals would suck for that.”

Then his smile gets bigger, seeming to overtake his whole face, his long hair falling around it in a frame. He lifts his arms slightly to show off the babe in his arms, “But who cares about them when you have this beautiful baby right here?”

“You’re dumb,” Eunha says with a laugh. “She is pretty great, though. Isn’t she?”

“The best, E,” Dan agrees with a smile.

Tears burn in Eunha’s eyes as she tries again to nurse Mina back to sleep. The baby had woken up an hour ago and still will not stop fussing. She’s not wailing—not yet—, but she’s whining and the tears are on their way.

“Please, please, just eat a little, baby,” Eunha murmurs into the little girl’s head. The babe’s head squiggles around, refusing to latch onto anything, even though she clearly wants it. A tear tracks down Euha’s cheek as she sends her pleas to ears too young to understand.

The doctors had weaned Eunha off the heavy duty painkillers earlier in the afternoon. Now, at 3 in the morning, Eunha was tired and sore. The site of the incision is shooting pain every time she tries to shift the upset baby in her arms. She knows she needs to call the nurse for more pain medication. And maybe help with nursing, because this is clearly not going well, but Eunha is just so tired.

As if summoned, a dowdy nurse with large pink-rimmed glasses steps quietly into the room.

“Ah, see we’re awake in here,” the nurse says kindly. “I’m just going to do some quick vitals. Don’t mind me.”

“Could- am I due for more pain medication?” Eunha asks faintly. She feels self-conscious knowing that she probably looks as tired as she feels and her baby is clearly not happy. She feels like she’s failing and Mina is only two days old.

“Let me check your chart, dear,” the nurse says with a small smile. “I see Baby is feeling a bit fussy tonight? Are we hungry?”

Eunha nods, looking back down at Mina who is now screwing up her face like she’s going to properly start screaming. Eunha feels her own face scrunching up to match.

“How many wet diapers did we have today?” the nurse asks, glancing at the computer screen. “Ah, looks like you are due for more ibu, yep. I’ll grab that for you. But first—”

The nurse steps over and coos at Mina in Eunha’s arms. Then she reaches out and tilts the baby’s head gently, lining up her mouth with Eunha’s leaking nipple. With the same confident gentleness, she pushes the baby forward until she’s shoved into her source of food. Immediately Mina latches on and starts chugging.

“Ouch,” Eunha says as she feels like her chest is being stabbed by a thousand sharp knives.

“The pain will go away soon, dear,” the nurse replies kindly. “I’ll get those ibus for you.”

Mina has inhaled two painful breasts worth of milk and fallen into a deep sleep before the nurse is even back from the pharmacy cabinet down the hall.

The nurse is back looking at the chart on the computer screen. “We need to get you up and walking tomorrow. Didn’t they have you walking today?”

“Uh, no?” Eunha looks at the nurse in confusion. “They said they were worried about me falling.”

The nurse clicks through something on screen and makes an exasperated sound. “I’m making a note. You need to be walking after abdominal surgery.”

Eunha nods faintly and can’t imagine trying to walk with the amount of pain she’s in. The nurse fixes thick, hot pads around Eunha’s legs explaining they help with blood circulation. Eunha watches on in perplexed exhaustion.

“Sleep now,” the nurse says. “I’ve left some instructions for the morning nurses. I’ll be back in two hours to check on you. You really gave us a fright, you know.”

Without any other explanation, the nurse bustles out of the room again. Eunha decides to ignore her own confusion and sleep before Mina decides she’s hungry again.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Dan, it fucking hurts,” Eunha says heatedly. She watches her best friend doubling over in his hospital chair in laughter.

When he can finally breathe again, he says, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I think I’m hysterical. Going into shock. Yeah, that’s it.”

Eunha rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays at the corners of her lips. She can’t help but feel grateful for the distraction from the pain and exhaustion.

“They never tell you about this part,” Eunha murmurs as she settles Mina back in the bassinet next to her bed.

“The painful part?” Dan asks, his voice softening as he watches Eunha carefully.

“Yeah,” Eunha sighs, settling back against the pillows and wincing at the pain in her lower abdomen. “They tell you about the miracle of birth and all that bullshit, but they never mention how much it hurts afterwards. They never talk about how wrong it can go.”

“I know,” Dan says, sobering up slightly.

A doctor strolls into the room with a nurse flanking him. The hospital is a small one, being in rural Oregon, after all. This doctor, who Eunha cannot for the life of her remember his name right now, is the one she’s been seeing since she finally broke down and started getting check ups at 5 months along. After the denial had finally succumbed to the reality of her baby bump. She thinks it might be Anderson or Andrews? Not that it mattered, she’s only seen him a handful of minutes together over the last several months and he wasn’t present at all for the delivery. Her fault for going into labor on a weekend.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Choi,” the doctor says affably, butchering the pronunciation of her last name horribly. “Just here to check on you and make a couple of care decisions.”

Daniel sits up straighter, eyeing the doctor, and Eunha nods.

The doctor sits on the stool in front of the computer screen and clicks into Eunha’s medical records. The nurse busies herself with checking IV fluids and takes Eunha’s vitals.

“I am happy to see these numbers,” the doctor says. He twirls his stool around to face the hospital bed. “I don’t think we’ll need to do another transfusion.”

“Transfusion?” Eunha asks, blinking.

“You needed a blood transfusion during delivery. You probably don’t remember,” the doctor says matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you’ll need more though.”

Feeling stupid and like her body isn’t her own, all Eunha can do is nod. She watches as the doctor and nurse check her over and then another nurse comes in to check over Mina. Dan asks some questions, which the doctor answers. Eunha feels as if she’s a spectator, watching from outside the room, unable to hear anything happening inside.

As the flurry of activity dies down and the medical professionals shuffle out of the room, Dan turns to Eunha with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, sensing her unease.

“I just feel so out of control,” Eunha says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

Dan nods, his face serious. “But you’re doing it.”

Eunha sighs, running a hand over her face. “I know. It’s just overwhelming.”

“I get it,” Dan says softly. “But you’ve got this, E.”

Eunha smiles weakly at him.

“It’s just,” Dan says, his voice trailing off in thought. “I can’t believe this is real. There’s a whole little human to take care of now.”

“What if I mess up? What if I can’t handle it? What if my parents are right? I’m so fucking young.” Eunha feels the weight of anxiety blanketing her. In some ways, she’s grateful for that weight. It’s better than the feeling of complete disconnect she had moments ago.

“All that matters is that you try your best. That’s all Mina needs. And you have me. We have our plan, which is made only slightly more complicated by the extra small person. But the plan is still good. You know I’ll always be here for you both. We’ll figure this out,” Daniel says, reaching out and squeezing Eunha’s hand.

Eunha nods, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes again. “Thank you, Dan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Dan smiles softly. “You’ll never have to find out.”

“Thank you,” Eunha whispers, her voice choked with emotion.

Dan leans over and kisses her forehead gently before resting his head on the side of the bed.

“What’s up, E?”

“Hey, Dan,” Eunha says quietly at the blurry soul in front of her. “Fuck.”

Tears well up in her eyes immediately and she’s faintly aware of them running off her face, dripping into the icy waters at her waist.

Even though the soul in front of her is blurry, features distorted, she can feel him smiling at her. It’s almost enough to warm her numb extremities—she realizes how horribly out of practice she is with her magic that she’s feeling this cold at only the first gateway. Eunha allows herself the count of seven to bask in her friend’s presence. She doesn’t allow herself more time than that, the summoning spell has a limited duration, after all.

Daniel’s soul floats quietly. Waiting. Eunha knows that partly the way the spell works—he has limited ways he can interact without more prompting. But she also knows he is—was—considerate like that.

“I’m feeling lost, Dan,” Eunha says after she reaches the count of seven in her head. “I thought- I thought if I just kept my head down, did my work, was a good eomma for Mina- I thought- fuck.”

The shimmering light of the soul embraces Eunha in what would be a hug if she were in the plane of the living. He says, “You know you are doing your best, Eunha. That’s all you’ve ever done.”

“I’m so tired and so lost. I feel like I’m failing,” Eunha says, watching more of her tears fall to mix with the icy river below.

“Mina is alive and loves you.”

“She’s in danger. Everyone I ever get close to lives in danger because of me,” Eunha grits out, trying to keep from all out sobbing. “This is all my fault.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I? Do I know that?” Eunha recognizes she’s getting a bit hysterical, but she can’t seem to stop herself. “Fuck, Dan. You’re here! You’re fucking here!”

“Everyone has their time to live and their time to die. You know this. You don’t decide that fate,” Daniel’s voice is serious, far more serious than he ever sounded in life. “Life is a tricky thing. We never know how much time we have. You are not the decider of our life’s clock, Eunha.”

“How do I live when everyone I love dies?” Eunha chokes out. She grips her fingers around her haegeum tighter, to keep her hand from trembling.

Daniel’s soul pauses for a moment before answering. Eunha can see in her mind’s eye the familiar pensive look her best friend would have when he was trying to solve a particularly hard problem. “You keep living, Eunha. You keep going because that’s what life is. You honor their memory by living your life to the fullest, by making the most of the time you have left.”

Eunha shudders as she pulls in a choppy breath. “I feel so lost.”

“You’re not lost, Eunha. The path is in front of you. You just need to keep moving forward,” Daniel says gently. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t let yourself be consumed by the fear of losing others. Live in the present and cherish every moment you have with the people you love.”

Eunha nods slowly, tears still streaming down her face.

She can feel her friend’s smile.

“Now, Eunha, I have an important message for you,” the soul continues. Eunha feels the adrenalin set off in her veins at this change of script. As far as she knows, he should not be able to discuss things not brought up by her. He’s only a shadow of his soul, after all.

“The danger you’ve faced is only the beginning. There are powerful forces gathering, and they’re after something that’s very important. Something you’re connected to. They’ll be coming not just for you, but they’ll try to get to you through the others.”

Eunha’s eyes widen in shock. “What are you talking about? What others?”

“I can’t say more. The spell is growing weaker and I’ll have to go soon. Be careful who you trust. There are many who would use your magic for ill,” Daniel says, sounding apologetic.

“How do I know who to trust? I can’t do this alone. I’ve been fighting alone for so long,” Eunha says, feeling broken. “I’m so tired.”

“Trust yourself, Eunha.”

Eunha takes a deep breath and watches the shimmer of her friend as his soul blends with the water of the river. Everything is grey here.

“Protect Yoongi, Eunha,” Dan says.

Her eyes widen at the recognition of a name that by all rights Dan shouldn’t know.

“I trust him with Mina. I trust him with you. Protect him. And not by pushing him away,” Dan says. She can envision the scathing glare he is giving her. He knows her penchant for running away to save those around her from getting hurt, doesn’t even have to have further insight to know how she’s already retreated away from Yoongi.

“Trust yourself to keep them safe, Eunha.”

Eunha nods, feeling a sense of dread settle in her stomach, Dan’s warning rattling around in her skull. “I have to go. I have to get back.”

“I know.”

“I miss you. I’ll keep missing you,” Eunha feels the sorrow well up in her chest, overwhelming and crushing the fear and anxiety.

“I know.”

“I- I only have one more use of this spell left,” Eunha says.

“I know. Please give Mina a kiss for me.”

Eunha nods, tears falling freshly again. She says, “I’ll bring her next time. For the last time—for the last spell. She deserves to know her father.”

Daniel’s soul starts fading into the grey of the river, the silvery shimmer dimming, as he starts moving back down the river. She watches him go for as long as she can before she turns back, away from the first gateway in the river, and towards the portal to life.

Before she starts walking, she hears Dan’s teasing shout, “Keep her safe, E! Go kick butt and save the world!”

She feels the tug of a smile on her lips as she walks, trudging carefully through the water. The pull is distinct, insistent, now that she’s going back up the other way, towards life. The river might have been happy to see her walking further into death, but not so much seeing her retreat again.

She has to concentrate on her footing as she walks, relying on instincts more than anything else. Her legs and feet are numb from standing still in the waist deep icy waters. Her white-knuckle grip holds her haegeum and bow, ready to spell the water into abeyance if needed.

As she walks along, the water of the river becomes more shallow. When the water reaches only to her mid shin, walking becomes easier, even with the tug still there. As walking becomes easier, so does her breathing. While she’s still focused on putting one foot in front of the other, feeling for obstacles and pitfalls under the surface, her mind starts to mull over Daniel’s words.

She needs to get back to the plane of the living as soon as possible. She needs to warn Yoongi and figure out a plan. With a small gasp she remembers that everyone left for a birthday party, away from the security of the shielded and warded apartment building. She kicks herself for being too lost in her own melancholy to stop them from doing something so reckless.

Eunha is busy admonishing herself when she hears it. A shiver shoots up her spine, pulling her scalp tense into a vice grip. Behind her, still some ways off, she can hear a faint splash, splash, splash of someone—or something—moving in the water. They are clearly trying to move silently, but not quite accomplishing it.

While keeping her ears straining, Eunha continues her pace, not wanting to alert whatever was moving towards her from behind to know she’s caught on to them. The body is corporeal enough to make the splashing, she notes, so not a typical soul.

Her heart races as she tries to focus on the sound, attempting to gauge how far away it is. She can feel her breathing quicken as she becomes more and more alert to her surroundings. The water continues to splash, getting louder and closer.

Eunha purses her lips, readying a spell, in case she can’t set her haegeum to play quickly enough. Holding symbols for walls, slowing, and rising water in her mind, she firmly plants her feet after whirling around to face the splashing noises.

She takes in the sight before her. A large shadowy humanoid form, black as night, like a void punched out of all the grey of death, stands ankle deep in water. The shadow pauses for a moment, realizing it has been caught. But then it moves again. The movement is strange to Eunha’s eyes. As if the shadow is made of fog or cloud, rather than walking like a human, it rolls, spilling forward toward her at an alarming pace. As it roils forward, the river splashes. Eunha thinks the river is fighting back, trying desperately to keep this dead construct within the realm of death.

Wasting no more time, Eunha sets the haegeum on her hip and pulls the bow taught against the strings. She clears her mind of everything but the symbols for slowing, gravity, and fast tides. She pulls the bow across the haegeum’s strings and the instrument gives out an eerie almost-human-like wail. The song is one Eunha has never heard before, letting her soul dictate the tune needed to banish this creature further down the river. She focuses on the symbols, the song, and not letting her own body succumb to the spell.

“Ahhh,” a crackling voice echoes out across the river, seeming to emanate from the black void creature in front of her. “Death Bringer. You’ve come.”

Eunha tries to compartmentalize her fear. Death constructs should not be able to speak. This creature has no vocal chords, no body to communicate the sounds. She plays on, willing the symbols to do the work she needs them to do.

“You may banish me, Death Bringer,” the creature continues, Eunha can practically feel the electricity of its voice burn across her skin. “I am but the first. Soon you will join us, Death Bringer.”

Then the black form stops fighting, falling backwards, away from Eunha, into the water. With no fight left, the black mass submerges, with only a small portion bobbing in the water as it jets away down further into death.

Eunha waits to make sure the creature is truly gone and that she is alone again, catching her breath. She looks around carefully, scanning the river for any other signs of trouble. The water appears deceptively placid and the horizon stretches empty in all directions. Taking a deep breath, Eunha starts walking again, hurrying now to get out of the river and back to the land of the living.

“Death Bringer,” she huffs to herself under her breath. “That’s a new one.”

Eunha feels a wave of relief wash over her as the river begins to shallow and she can pick up her pace from a wary crawl to a full-on jog. She managed to keep the death construct at bay, but she still has so far to go to get back to safety—even beyond the river.

The closer she gets, however, the harder it is for her to concentrate. The tug of death seems determined not to let her go so easily, and the longer she jogs on, the stronger it grows. Fear and doubt creep into Eunha’s mind, threatening to consume her if she allows them any say in how she acts or thinks. The river’s siren calls to just stop, rest awhile, let her soul float away to oblivion, joins forces with the other emotions already at war inside her.

Finally, silence fills the air around her as the portal comes into sight. Taking a deep breath and gathering all of her strength one last time, Eunha steps through the portal, back into the world of the living.

#thearmyprof #bts ff #bts fanfic #myg #bts fantasy au #fae bts #bts angst

0 notes

thearmyprof · 2 years ago

Text

Endless Sea, but the water is warm here Ch. 8

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Original Character

Word count: 6174

Chapters: 8/?

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Idol!AU, Canon Divergent,

Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content

Overview post: https://at.tumblr.com/thearmyprof/endless-sea-but-the-water-is-warm-here/h8ruhjcuzs62

Summary:

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45497923

Full Tags:

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Eunha picks up a heavy rock, a little too large for her fist and throws it overhand past the small waves lapping at the rocky shore. It makes a satisfying plopping sound as it hits the water’s surface.

“Did you see that?” the boy calls out from several paces down the rocky shore. “I think it bounced like seven times before it sank!”

“Good job, Dan,” Eunha says with a smile.

The boy runs over to her, brilliant smile across his face. He pulls her to him with one arm around her shoulder.

“What’s up, E? You’re so grumpy today,” Daniel frowns down at her. “What’s going on?”

Eunha shrugs, keeping her eyes out on the grey horizon. It’s not a true muted grey, like the other expanse of water she’s had the displeasure of seeing, but a beautiful, multidimensional grey mixed with blues. The cold wind whips up around them, enveloping them in the salty smell of the ocean.

“What if we just stayed here?” she asks, eyes still trained on distant sea and sky. “Just got a little house and stayed here together?”

“Middle of nowhere Oregon coast? Sure! Sounds good to me,” Daniel replies. “We could open an ice cream parlor. Maybe we can trick the dumber tourists into thinking this is the Twilight town.”

Despite her melancholy, Eunha snorts out a laugh. “It’s fucking freezing, Dan. Ice cream? Really?”

“Well, maybe hot chocolate when it’s cold out. Ice cream for the tourists in the summer?”

“So, a hot chocolate parlor for ten months of the year and an ice cream parlor for two?” Eunha says as she grins.

“Now you’re talking,” Dan says. “But why are we suddenly moving to the beach?”

Eunha’s smile fades and she lets out a sigh. After a pause to watch a blue heron fly overhead, she says, “My uncle just came back from Korea. My parents want me to go to school in Portland and apprentice with him.

She kicks at a rock that rolls haphazardly to the surf, but never makes it. The young man squeezes her shoulder tighter.

“I never asked for this,” Eunha says with a strangled voice. “I never fucking asked for this shit.”

“I know,” Dan says quietly. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll both be 18 soon and graduated and fuck ‘em. Right?”

“Right,” Eunha chokes out with an aborted sob. She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Fuck them. Just because it’s in my blood does not mean I have to follow them.”

“Fuck yes, that’s right. First step, graduation. Second step, Seoul. We’re young and we’ve got the whole world at our feet,” Dan says with a manic grin on his face. “Your dreams are going to come true. I can’t wait to be there with you when they do.”

Eunha wakes with a startled cry as the memory-turned-dream still echoes in her head. She immediately bites down on her lip to keep more sounds from waking the rest of the house. She looks down in the dim light to see Mina sleeping peacefully. Eunha lets out a sigh of relief. Mina is safe. That’s all that matters.

If she looks back on the past week, it comes to her in snapshots. Oddly still images, the movement slightly blurred. Yoongi orchestrating her discharge from the hospital. Eunha spending the rest of the day snuggled up next to Mina, whispering assurances and checking the girl over as if she were the one that had disappeared. Seeing her box of belongings sent from Rancid House. Knowing she’s been fired for being abducted. Knowing this as soon as her eyes landed on her things. Not feeling anything about it at all.

Not feeling much of anything at all.

After a day of watching movies and reading books in the living room, Eunha says she’s ready to talk. Yoongi brings in his head of security, Kim Minkyu, to sit down with Eunha to get every detail she could remember of her abductors, the club, and anything else that would help him keep everyone safe. She glosses over some of her own magical abilities, leaving her escape up to more coincidence and luck than anything else, which, if she’s honest, is fairly true. She also avoids mention of the Sidhe in Incheon or any other supernatural connections.

Upon her insistence, Yoongi sits with her for the entire conversation with Kim Minkyu. His jaw clenching and his nails digging crescents into his palms as he listened to everything that Eunha went through. Eunha, on the other hand, remains stoic and emotionless. Possibly that makes Yoongi even more furious at the situation. Despite his internal agony, he keeps his thoughts and emotions to himself, letting himself be a rock for Eunha to lean against.

Eunha also remembers at one point during the week, Yoongi and one of Yoongi’s lawyers filing an extensive grievance against the hospital for the way the staff conducted themselves around her. She had been reluctant but the lawyer made some very convincing points about accountability and the other patients that will eventually land themselves with the same awful staff. Mostly she went along with it because it took more energy to fight it than not. Mostly she just did not care to feel anything about it at all.

The week had been a lot. Eunha feels a little bit lost, as if floating outside herself, and very exhausted.

Still reeling from the dream of another seaside from a lifetime ago, Eunha slides carefully out from under the covers, biting her tongue as the pain in her rib radiates through her chest. The more superficial wounds had healed, but the rib would take weeks, the doctor said. Eunha gingerly clutches her side as she makes her way to the bathroom.

After splashing water on her face, she shuffles out to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. The silent clock on the wall says it’s 4 in the morning, as she leans against the counter squinting at it while the water heats up.

“Can’t sleep?” Yoongi’s scratchy voice sounds too loud in the otherwise quiet house.

Eunha grips her own arms where they are crossed against her chest, trying not to show how startled she is. She shakes her head in reply. After a breath she asks, “Tea?”

“Please,” Yoongi murmurs and sits down on one of the stools at the counter.

Eunha glances at him. He’s in an oversized white tee and his dark hair is sticking up in odd places. What’s most alarming to her are the dark circles under his eyes.

“Are you okay, Yoongi?” she asks.

He gives a half-hearted grunt in reply.

Eunha gets two mugs out of the cupboard along with some calming tea. She lets the silence blanket them while the water begins to boil.

Once the tea is steeping in the cups and she’s leaning against the counter again, she says, “Shall I distract you with a story?”

Yoongi eyes widen in what she thinks must be veiled surprise. Eventually, he replies, “Sure.”

“When I was a teenager. My best friend and I would take these trips out to the coast. To the beach. There was a campground that almost no one, but locals knew about. I don’t remember how Dan found it in the first place, but he was good with stuff like that. Finding hidden gems.”

Eunha pauses at that comment, realizing the deeper meaning behind it—he had found her, hadn’t he, when she was hidden.

Yoongi waits patiently, eyes curious, but otherwise his body is unmoving.

“They had these yurts. Like little one room cabins, but not nearly as nice as a cabin. Honestly, they had seen better days and probably that’s why we were able to rent them for so cheap. So, when school got to be too much or we needed to let off steam, we’d just hop in Dan’s car and drive out to stay in a yurt for the weekend.”

Eunha watches as Yoongi’s lip twitch in the beginning of a smile. She grabs the mugs and sets one down in front of him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. After a sip, he asks, “Your parents just let you take off for the weekend like that?”

“Well, they didn’t strictly know,” Eunha laughs faintly at that. “They certainly didn’t know I was driving all the way to the coast to stay in a one room cabin with a boy.”

Yoongi quirks his eyebrow at that, taking a long sip of his tea.

“We weren’t really troublemakers though. Dan was a straight-A student. The worst thing we did on our beach weekends was hustle the local arcade out of their cute stuffed toys because they didn’t know how to stack the crane machine the right way. Made it way too easy to win the toys.”

Eunha smiles at the memory. She laughs as she says, “The stink eye that the manager of that place gave us. Dan would shove the stuffed animals into my arm, grab my hand, and whisper dramatically ‘run’ and we’d be off running back to our little yurt.”

Eunha takes a sip of tea, trying to hold onto the happiness of the memory a little longer. She says, “I don’t know why I was thinking of that all of the sudden. I had a dream about it. That’s why I woke up. Remembering those weekends on the coast. Feels like another lifetime. I guess it is almost like another lifetime.”

“Sounds fun,” Yoongi says. “Sounds like my teenage self who used to sneak out to underground rap shows and competitions.”

“Yeah,” Eunha smiles in agreement. She winces slightly when she chuckles, rib aching. “Growing up in Korea must have been so different. I feel like I had a lot of freedom, growing up in the States.”

“You grew up in the U.S.?” Yoongi asks. This time the surprise is clear on his face.

“Yeah, my parents moved us over when I was pretty young,” Eunha says. “We were living in the middle of nowhere Oregon. Very pretty, but very lonely. Dan was one of my only friends growing up. Mina was actually born there.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says as he contemplates this information.

Eunha finishes her tea and rinses her mug in the sink. When she turns back Yoongi is sipping down the last of his cup.

“Where is Dan now?” Yoongi asks as he stands to take his cup to the sink to rinse.

Eunha feels the lump in her throat and tries to swallow it down. When she trusts herself, she says, “He died. But it was a while ago now. Guess it’s been a little over 9 years.”

Yoongi is frozen at his place at the sink. After a few seconds, it’s like someone hit the “play” button and he unpauses to set the mug down on the drying rack. He turns to face Eunha and she can’t bear to look at his face when he says, “I’m really sorry, Eunha.”

Eunha just shakes her head. “It was a long time ago.”

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter. Not really,” Yoongi says softly.

Eunha shakes her head again and can feel a single tear track down her cheek. “No, sometimes it doesn’t.”

Before she knows what’s happening, Yoongi embraces her in a hug. Nothing too overpowering or intrusive, just enough to be considered a hug. His chin is lightly hooked over her shoulder, barely touching. But it’s the most friendly contact she’s had with another person who isn’t Mina in a long time. And everywhere his body is touching hers, she can feel the warm buzz settling under her skin. Instead of the frenetic feeling of life that overwhelms, she feels settled, sated. It’s almost like the resonance between his soul and her own is at such a harmony that everything feels a little bit more complete.

“You feel so alive,” Eunha whispers before her filter snaps into place.

“What?” Yoongi asks, his hands gently pressing, palms splayed, up and down her back.

“I- I can feel souls through touch,” Eunha says. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all of this.”

“I want to know, if you want to tell me,” Yoongi murmurs. She can feel his warm breath along her neck, sending goosebumps rising across her skin.

Eunha swallows. She is surprised at how very much she does want to tell him. “I can feel a person’s soul, but mostly on physical contact. It can be a lot.”

Yoongi tenses and goes to pull away, but Eunha shoots her arms forward to wrap around his waist and pull him back in. She plants herself more firmly against his chest, chin tucked in, face buried at his collarbone.

“Please stay,” Eunha whispers so quietly, she’s positive Yoongi can’t actually hear her. “You make me feel safe.”

As soon as she says the words out loud, she feels like she’s plummeting off a cliff—a very tall cliff. Yoongi does make her feel safe and that’s terrifying. She’s not trusted or relied on another person, let alone allowed someone to make her feel safe, in almost a decade. Instead she has only known fear and loneliness and death. While she supposedly is the one that can tame the waters in the river of Death, she feels death follows the people in her life as if vindictive against her personally. As much as she wants to feel safe in Yoongi’s arms, to feel the beautiful resonance of their two souls, she wants to keep him safe more.

“I- I need to go check on Mina. You- you should go back to sleep. There’s still time left before the day really starts,” Eunha says as she’s pulling away from Yoongi’s embrace. “Good night, Yoongi-ssi.”

Without looking back she walks quickly down the hallway. There is an aching hole in her chest that has nothing to do with her broken rib.

Eunha stands in the shower, staring blankly at the tiled wall in front of her, letting the hot water run over her, steam clouding the room. A week passes and sleep becomes increasingly elusive. Each night, she awakens, unrested, not from reliving nightmares of the club or Park Donghyun, but of bittersweet memories of a time long past. She feels exhausted and utterly numb. She doesn’t know how long she stands in the shower, feeling nothing but the sensation of hot water massaging her tired muscles, until she finally goes through the motions of getting out, drying off, and padding back into the bedroom.

She watches moonlight track across the floor of the guest room while Mina sleeps soundly next to her. After so many nights awake in the wee hours, Eunha’s become accustomed to the silence. She’s not thinking of the dreams (nightmares) that woke her up. She’s not thinking of the tasks she needs to complete tomorrow (there are none). She’s not thinking about the fact that she’s unemployed and needs to find a job. She’s not thinking about Mina, holed away in this fancy Hannam the Hill apartment, who deserves a normal childhood. She’s not thinking of anything at all. If anything, her mind is blessedly blank—grey like the river in Death and just as calm.

The sun rises and Mina stirs. Eunha continues to sit while her daughter gets ready for the day and leaves the room, presumably to get breakfast Yoongi most likely prepared—as he has been doing every day since their arrival. Eunha ignores the goings-on around her, feeling heavy like her limbs are filled with stones. Her head is fuzzy, like it’s been stuffed with cotton, and all the thoughts she might have are too sleepy to come out.

“Eunha-ssi?” Eunha hears a voice calling her name. How long have they been calling her name?

She looks up to see Seokjin standing a little awkwardly in the doorway. Jacket on as if he just arrived or is just leaving. The hand he has leaning against the doorframe is fidgeting with the wood edging.

“I was wondering if your Mina would like to come to a birthday party for my nephew. He’s young, but some older cousins are invited. I thought it might be nice for her to play with some other kids? I thought it would be nice for her to get out of the house for a little bit,” he says, looking a little nervous.

Eunha blinks at him trying to process his words. After a moment, she asks, “Did you ask her already?”

“Oh, well, I did mention it, just to see if she was interested,” he answers. “She seemed interested?”

“Oh,” Eunha says. That’s unexpected.

“I can go with her, if you don’t want her going with hyung alone,” Yoongi chimes in as he sidles up behind Jin in the doorway. “She didn’t seem that worried about it though. You could stay and get some rest.”

“Oh,” Eunha says again.

The two men in the door watch Eunha carefully. She doesn’t notice the worried creases in their brows or their slightly downturned lips or the tension they are carrying in their shoulders.

“Okay, I mean, if she’s okay with it,” Eunha says. She thinks her voice sounds far away, but she’s pretty sure she’s the one talking. “But please go with her?”

She asks the last question directly of Yoongi, giving him a glance in the eye. She drops her gaze again as soon as she sees his quick nod of assent.

When the men leave the room again, Eunha continues staring at the floor wondering how long she’d been in the same position. Her joints creak and her head pounds as she finally moves to get up. She realizes, for the first time since the abduction, that maybe something is wrong with her. The word “depression” floats through her consciousness, but doesn’t find much to attach itself to.

Still, despite the weight in her limbs and on her chest, feeling more motivation than she’s felt since fleeing the rooftop apartment, Eunha showers and changes into fresh clothes. Then she retrieves her haegeum case from the corner where she’d stashed all the things Yoongi had rescued from Rancid House. She looks around the room and decides on the spot of carpeting that is currently bathed in afternoon sunlight.

Sitting cross-legged, she opens the instrument case and runs her fingers lovingly across the picture tucked into the pocket. Then she pulls out the haegeum and bow, tightening the strings, thinking of the symbols she wants to use first. She pauses for only a moment and then bends over to grab a pen out of the haegeum case as well.

Knowing how well spelled and protected the apartment building is, Eunha does not waste too much energy on the protective spell around her own body. It’s only there as a precaution and as a warning to any other apartment occupants not to accidentally disturb her. Then she pulls the symbols for warmth, entangling them with the sunlight already present around her body. Strengthening the natural environment is easier than conjuring something from scratch. This type of heat, too, should help carry her as far as she needs to go in the river—much further than her latest jaunts into death.

Before she steps into death, she visualizes the symbols for messages, light, and connection, with a drawn out note on her haegeum. A small paper lantern appears in front of her lap. Taking the pen, she writes a small prayer on the outer paper of the lantern and then tucks it to herself, careful not to rip the delicate construction.

The river is cold, but the sun-strengthened warmth that encases her body helps fight off the frigidness. Eunha allows herself a moment to get her bearings. She lets herself do something she hasn’t in over a decade. She shuts her eyes, feeling out with her senses, the terrain under the water, trying to triangulate her location. Once she has a good idea of where she is, she makes sure her haegeum and bow are secure in one hand and the delicate lantern is secure in the other. She slowly steps forward, feet finding their way on well worn paths beneath the tricky water’s surface. While she might fight the memories of her training in the ways of death, her body remembers. So, she walks, carefully but confidently, further into death.

Yoongi already regrets letting Seokjin-hyung convince him to take Mina to this birthday party. It’s chaos. There are children from infant to pre-teen running around everywhere, seemingly hopped up on candy, cake, and excitement. He and Mina stand, his hands resting protectively on Mina’s tense, tiny shoulders in front of him, and watch as children run past screaming.

A middle-aged woman, wearing a green apron and looking considerably overwhelmed, walks by. She pauses at the two strange statue-like people in the front hallway.

“Come on it, no need to stand at the door,” she says and waves the two into the home. “There are drinks in the kitchen.”

There’s a look of faint amusement on her face as Yoongi startles, realizing they are being somewhat rude. He remains speechless, though, as another (or is it the same and they are just running in circles?) gaggle of children run by screaming.

The woman chuckles to herself and says, “Once you settle your daughter, the adults are all in the dining room. They are going to do cake in about a half an hour.”

Trying to process what the woman is saying with chaos continually erupting around them, his brain also catches the fact that this stranger had assumed Mina is his daughter. His body reacts first, flushing hot in embarrassment. He can feel the blush blossoming across his skin all the way to his ears. He’s thankful for the bucket hat pulled snugly over his head and the mask on his face.

He glances down at Mina now, checking to make sure she’s not too uncomfortable. She’s standing directly in front of him, back plastered to his legs. His large hands are still draped carefully on her shoulders. She doesn’t seem to be listening to the woman at all, but focusing on the chaos swirling around them.

What Yoongi asks out loud, when he finally realizes he should be conversing instead of staring, the horror clear in his tone, “You mean these children haven’t even had cake yet?”

“No, of course not,” the woman answers curtly, completely missing the tone of Yoongi’s question. Before she can continue talking to Yoongi, something catches her eye from the other room. She yells, “Oh Minho, put that down this instant. I will call your mother!”

She storms off without a backward glance to dumbstruck pair in the front hall. After a few moments of standing frozen, Yoongi moves to kneel in front of Mina, hands still comfortingly grasping her shoulders. He doesn’t know if it’s for her comfort or his.

“Mina-yah, if this is too much, we can go home, okay?” Yoongi looks into the little girl’s face to see if he could read how she’s feeling.

She looks at him distractedly, eyes flickering back and forth between his face and the chaos swirling outside their little bubble.

“Mina-yah?” Yoongi tries again. “Do you want to go?”

She gives a small, quick shake of her head and takes a step closer to Yoongi.

“You want to stay?” he asks, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

Mina nods one quick nod, but otherwise remains still.

“Okay,” he says as he gives a squeeze to her shoulders. “How about we stick together for a bit?”

Another quick nod from the girl and Yoongi stands slowly. He relinquishes her shoulders to face the maelstrom within the apartment.

They find a semi-quiet corner to sequester themselves in. Mina sits, nestled up against Yoongi’s side as if he will disappear if Mina loses physical contact, and watches the children run around. Yoongi is scrolling through his phone, perfectly content to spend the entire party just like this. Fate and busybody mothers, it seems, feel he need not be left in peace.

A group of women, perhaps a decade older than himself, gravitate toward him from wherever they had been previously, clearly drawn to the new face in the crowd.

“Who do we have here?” one of the women asks.

Yoongi looks up from his phone to see the women, five of them, and all pretty, put together in a bougie Seoul-elite way, and all staring at the awkward pair of wallflowers. He can’t tell who spoke as they ring around him, so he doesn’t know who to address, which is just as well since he doesn’t really want to respond anyway.

“I think they came with Seokjin-ah, dear boy,” a woman with platinum blonde hair says.

Another one of them titters and says, “Hyorin, you sound like such an ahjumma. Seokjinnie-ah is not that much younger than us. Are you Seokjin’s friend?”

All the women turn to face Yoongi expectantly. Yoongi swallows. He says with a small bow, “Uh, yes, nice to meet you. I’m just escorting the daughter of a family friend today.”

He winces to himself internally when he realizes he’s thrown Mina under the bus a bit, but she doesn’t seem to mind. When he glances at her, she doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to the now-gawking women at all, but rather watching further into the room as children continue to run around screaming.

“Did you want to go and play?” Yoongi murmurs to her. A quick shake of her head lets him know they will probably be sitting here for a bit longer.

The women soon give up trying to converse with Yoongi and Mina once they realize one is only going to give them single word answers and the other doesn’t speak at all. However, much to Yoongi’s dismay, they don’t leave either, but instead stay floating around the quiet pair gossiping amongst themselves. He does realize at some point one of them actually recognizes him and somehow telepathically relays that information to the rest of the group because, while they don’t pry, they do seem very keen on keeping him a part of the conversation.

“Did you hear about Counselman Yong Songjin?” the blonde woman asks, leaning in as if worried about being overheard.

A couple of the women nod and they all look solemn as if someone had died.

“You mean that young, good looking one?” another woman answers eventually. “The one with the video scandal?”

“Yes, that’s the one!” a different woman replies.

The blonde nods and says, “Some are saying they want to hold an emergency election and have him removed.”

She leans even further in and all the other women follow suit, creating a tight wall of bodies around Yoongi and Mina. Yoongi shifts uncomfortably at their proximity and regrets leaving his bodyguard in the car.

“Mental illness,” the blonde whispers. “That’s what they’re saying.”

The women let out surprised gasps. Yoongi works hard to not roll his eyes at the dramatic scene.

“But he’s so young,” someone says.

“And handsome,” another says.

The women titter. As if the mental stability of a government official is some light-hearted joke.

“What scandal?” Yoongi hears himself say out loud. He immediately clamps his jaw shut with a click. He is not interested in participating in this farce of a conversation.

More gasps from the women, this time at his horrifying ignorance of current events.

The blonde is the one that gives him a pitying look before explaining, “Counselman Yong Songjin has been going around saying that vampire and magic are real. And not only real, but happening all around us.”

“Of course vampires are real, Hyorin-ssi,” another woman says. “Just because that sort of thing doesn’t happen around here, doesn’t mean it’s not real. No, what Counselman Yong is saying is that vampires are in control of everything. He’s saying they control the banks, the businesses, the government.”

A couple of the women shudder.

“Soyeon-ssi, not so loud,” the blonde says. Then her eyes flicker down to Mina, as if remembering there is a child present. “Let’s not speak of such taboo things now. If the Counselman is correct, then I hope he does as he says and steps up to fix things. We can just have magicians and vampires running around the nicer parts of Seoul unchecked, now can we?”

“You don’t think this is a ploy for the next election, do you?” one of the other women says.

“Well, he’s handsome enough for my vote, crazy or not,” the blonde retorts, giggling. The other women respond with their own conspiratorial giggles.

Yoongi’s brow furrows as he thinks about what he just learned. Granted, he’s been a bit distracted the last few weeks and not been keeping up with current news. He files the conversation away for now, and mentally reminds himself to look up more about this counselman later.

Suddenly, the woman in the green apron that had talked to Yoongi and Mina in the front hallway appears, shoving her way between two of the women. She looks around, suspiciously, and then says, “We’re going to light the candles on the cake now. Come sing.”

All the women disperse immediately, excited at the birthday party’s progress. Yoongi stands up, grumbling under his breath about how the children at this party certainly did not need any more sugar. He reaches down and takes Mina’s hand in his. She sticks close to his leg as they follow the gaggle of tittering gossips to the cake.

The waters of death can be quite tricky. When one looks out on the river, their eyes meet an expansive grey plane, as if looking on the largest and calmest of oceans. However, any good traveler in death knows this is an illusion. The river itself has many currents that pull a wanderer this way and that. And the ground under one’s feet is not a flat riverbed, but rather a terrain all its own with elevation gains and losses and treacherous cliffs. The river at the entryway to death is shallow, flat, and calm. The deeper into death one walks, the more perilous the path becomes.

Eunha doesn’t know how long she’s been walking for. Time also loses much of its meaning in death. Here, time is slippery and doesn’t match the plane of the living. Here, everything is hazardous.

She trudges forward, slowly and carefully, feeling for a sure footing with each step. While her body propels her further down her path by rote memory, the river is also eager for her to continue, not putting up much of a fight as she walks. If anything, the waters seem to playfully pull and tug at her body, urging her on, urging her to be faster.

She doesn’t give into that playfulness, though. She knows to keep her guard up. One wrong move and she can slip. Once under the water, it would surely pull her along further faster than she wants. She’s not ready for that journey yet.

The further Eunha travels on, the colder the water becomes around her. The depth has water lapping at her waist as she walks and she’s glad for the extra-strength warming spell she cast before she entered the river. Even with it warming her corporeal body, the iciness of the water is starting to numb her lower half.

Finally, she reaches the spot she’s been looking for. To the untrained eye, nothing looks different about this spot in the river. If not for the water being waist deep, this could be the entrance of the river. However, Eunha feels the insistent tug here and feels the bend in the path at her feet. She’s come to the first gateway in the river.

The gateways, like the river itself, can be tricky to travelers. They are meant to be the passageways, seven in total, that the dead pass through on their final journey. As they are carried along by the river, the gateways signify the distance the soul has from their previous life. Souls trying to come back to life must be incredibly strong to pass back through the gateways upriver. Each gateway holding its own traps and deceptions to prevent such malfeasance.

The air here is different, too, not the stale nothingness that the river has smelled of thus far. The air has hints of dark and damp, an earthy and loamy scent. Despite the smell and the almost-frantic pull of the current, the gateway is soundless—the embodiment of a deathly silence.

For what Eunha is about to do, she knows she needs to be at least to the first gateway. She hopes this is far enough for what she’s planning. She’s not come prepared to travel further than this today.

Haegeum and bow still held tight in one hand, Eunha holds the paper lantern in front of her face. She squints at it to make sure no harm came to it while she was traversing the river. Happy that it is still intact, she sets it gently on the surface of the water.

She bends over to get closer to the floating lantern, bobbing softly in the current. She imagines the symbols for summoning, visitation, and smooth sailing. After taking in a deep breath, Eunha lets out a hum and blows on the lantern. A small flame flickers to life inside of it and it sets off on the course made by her breath.

She straightens up and watches the lantern float away past the gateway and out onto the horizon of the river. She repeats the prayer she had written on the outside of the lantern’s paper to herself as she watches it go.

Only when the lantern and its faint glowing light are no longer visible against the monotonous landscape does Eunha allow herself to think. The first thing she thinks is to question whether she should be doing this. She doesn’t let the thought plague her for long. Instead, she turns her attention to the heavy feeling inside of her, the numbness of emotion that’s overtaken her the last couple of weeks. Something is wrong, she knows it. However, that worry doesn’t spark the anxiety she thinks it should. That thought in and of itself is worrying. Still, it’s a worry that feels distant and apart from her.

Everything below her waist slowly goes numb. She thinks she should be worrying about that too. If her legs and feet are numb, it’s going to be harder, more treacherous, on her way back to the doorway home. She can’t do anything about that now, though. She’s already used the lantern. She knows to turn back before it has had its effect will be a waste, with the lantern’s limited uses. Plus, she rationalizes to herself, if she doesn’t stay to make sure the lantern has worked the way it is supposed to, she won’t know what other accidental souls might be summoned.

Mostly, thought, she just doesn’t feel enough to care. She knows she should be preserving her life. There are reasons to be home. Mina. Her music. Yoongi. But she doesn’t feel much of anything at all. Only a logical, disconnected voice in her head, telling her she will want to be alive later when emotion returns, keeps her from letting go entirely where she stands.

Before long she can see the shimmer of a figure approaching on what appears to be the horizon of the water. The shimmer is faint, the greyness infusing the person, as happens to all souls who reside here. At first, the shimmer is faint and Eunha has to squint to see it. But soon, the figure is getting closer, making their way up the river.

They aren’t walking, but rather floating along the surface, as if their feet are made of light buoys under the water. They bob and float, rather than walk like a corporeal body would. The stillness of the water helps them traverse the space quickly.

In what feels like a blink of an eye, the person—or rather, soul of a person—is before Eunha. They are all grey and blurry, edges all undefined. The waters of death have eroded away this soul as it does all souls who come here, until they are simply part of the river again, ready to be poured out again in life.

Eunha smiles at the floating soul in front of her, not really able to make out recognizable shapes or patterns of the person they used to be. But their vibrations she recognizes. Their soul she is intimately familiar with. Even though the soul doesn’t have a discernible face, she feels them returning her smile.

However, when the soul comes to a floating stop in front of her and speaks, the voice is the same as it has always been. Waves of nostalgia and longing run through Eunha’s body as she hears the familiar, “What’s up, E?”

#thearmyprof #bts ff #bts fanfic #myg #bts fantasy au #fae bts #bts angst

2 notes · View notes

hellchilde · 4 years ago

Text

alternatively, here's a list of things i've been daydreaming about:

1. songxiao honeymoon, full of fluff and romance, complete with soundtrack

2. getting xy beat up for a little self-healing hurt/comfort

3. canon-based what-if xy and sl worked together to resurrect xxc. sl goes a little darkside, xy learns how to care for someone other than himself. it's a roadtrip fic with a little necromancy and found family and romance thrown in

now all i really want is to recover enough of my brain to finish this fic. i'm so close.

but apparently when you spend a solid hour panicking and melting down you become useless the rest of the day, and now the words aren't making the transition from brain to page

#maybe it's enough to merely keep the stories inside my head

3 notes · View notes

thearmyprof · 2 years ago

Text

Endless Sea, but the water is warm here Ch. 7

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Original Character

Word count: 6438

Chapters: 7/?

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Idol!AU, Canon Divergent,

Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content

Overview post: https://at.tumblr.com/thearmyprof/endless-sea-but-the-water-is-warm-here/h8ruhjcuzs62

Summary:

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45497923

Full Tags:

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Bone-aching weariness. An exhausted tiredness that leaves her body feeling heavy and her brain a little fuzzy. The nurse had tutted around the room five minutes ago, checking vitals and the line on the IV. The way she was mumbling admonishments under her breath, one might think her patient wanted to show up to a hospital battered and worse for wear.

Eunha didn’t have the heart to ask for the date. The taxi had dropped her off at the emergency room entrance in a rainy grey predawn light. She doesn’t know what time it is now, let alone how long she’s been away from her life for. The thought of her life leaves her with a pit of anxiety in her core. That gnawing maw is the only thing that can truly compete with the weariness that makes her body feel so very weighed down.

The nurse had also mentioned that someone had been called on her behalf. In her sleep deprived, worn out state, Eunha hadn’t truly registered the implications of that. However, in the near-silent hospital room, with the nurse moved on to her other charges, Eunha is starting to panic. Who could the hospital have called? She hadn’t given them a name—hers or anyone else’s. Dread creeps over her as she waits. All thoughts of trying to get a bit of sleep vanished.

The privacy curtain surrounding her bed is quietly pulled back and Eunha snaps her head towards the intruder, wincing at the sudden movement.

“Oh, shit, Eunha,” Yoongi breathes out the words. He quickly steps inside, closing the curtain behind him, to shield them both from the rest of the patients in the room, and pulls down his facemask.

Eunha watches through half-open eyes, the one side still swollen. She feels small, vulnerable, in the hospital bed with nothing but a hospital gown and thin blanket between her and the rest of the world. Fluids are being dripped into her system via an IV in the back of her hand. She is at least grateful for whatever pain medication they gave her because it’s doing its job.

Yoongi stands at her bedside awkwardly for a moment wearing a baggy black tee and black beanie, white facemask bunched around his chin, wringing his fingers together. He makes a small sound in his throat that might have come out as a whine if he hadn’t swallowed it down. Eunha hadn’t seen what she looks like yet, but she’s guessing it must be pretty bad.

“What time is it?” she croaks out, throat dry. “Where is Mina?”

Yoongi hurries to grab the cup that’s sitting on the stand by her headboard. He helps angle the straw to her lips. Eunha gulps at the water until the cup is empty.

She studies Yoongi’s face. His brow is slightly furrowed and his jaw is clenched. Maybe on a normal day, when Eunha isn’t hyper aware of every little thing, she wouldn’t have noticed, but today she notices. He’s tense and worried. Her thoughts are jumbled, trying to piece together what might have possibly happened while she was gone.

“Where is Mina, Yoongi?” Eunha says more forcefully.

Yoongi blinks as if just realizing she’s asking a question.

“Mina is at my place with Jimin and Namjoon,” Yoongi murmurs. “She’s okay. Honestly, she’s been handling all of this better than I did.”

Eunha snorts a low laugh and then winces as pain shoots from various places in her body from the movement. Yoongi puts the cup back on the bedside table and then awkwardly hovers with his arms out like he wants to help Eunha adjust how she’s sitting but doesn’t know how to initiate contact.

Instead he opts to keep talking. “We- I decided it might be better that I come alone. When the hospital called, they didn’t give any information on how you were. I thought, well, I thought for a lot of reasons it would be better to have me find out before anything else happened.”

“Thank you,” Eunha says. Feelings of gratefulness and terror swirl together in her chest. “Can we- can we call her? I just want to talk to her.”

“Of course! Of course,” Yoongi says quickly as he rushes to pull out his phone. He’s already calling before Eunha can say thank you again.

“Hey, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says into the phone. “Can you put Mina on the phone? Eunha is here and wants to talk to her.”

She can hear some muffled voices on the other end of the phone, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Yoongi’s eyes flick across Eunha’s body quickly as if making an assessment of sorts. Then, after a “yeah, I think so,” he hands the phone to Eunha, which she takes with a shaking hand.

“Mina, love?” Eunha says.

Yoongi waves a hand at the curtain without making eye contact, using his other hand to pull his facemask back up, stepping out of the little bubble of privacy curtains before Eunha can nod her head.

“Mina, love, Eomma is okay,” Eunha says, infusing her voice with as much confidence as she can muster. “Uncle Yoongi says you’ve been good? You’ve been helping take care of the house, right?”

There is silence on the other end of the phone. Eunha closes her eyes and wills the tears back into their ducts. She tries again, “Eomma is okay, love. The doctors are healing me up right now and I’ll be home- I’ll be back to Uncle Yoongi’s as soon as they say I can go.”

The silence creates a chasm in Eunha’s chest. She reaches up a hand to press into her sternum as if there is a real hole there she can patch up. In her tiredness, she thinks she can probably switch the call to video, but she doesn’t know how to do that and doesn’t want to mess up Yoongi’s phone with it being something far fancier than she’s ever owned.

Eunha hears some quiet murmuring and a slightly louder voice of what sounds like a doctor or someone in charge outside the curtain.

“I have to go love, I think the doctor is here,” she says into the phone. “I’ll be home soon. Be good for Uncle Jimin and Uncle Namjoon, okay?”

She hits the “end call” button just as the curtain is being pulled back. She looks away as she tries to dab away the tears that fell unbidden onto her cheeks with her free hand. However, that just causes pain to bloom where forgotten bruises get bumped by her palm.

Frustrated and tired, Eunha looks back over to see a short man picking up her chart at the end of her bed without introducing himself. Yoongi has moved back to her side at the head of the bed, refilling her cup of water—probably to give him something to do to make him look busy.

When the man with her chart seems satisfied with perusing the document, he looks up at Eunha.

“Glad to see you’re awake. Looks like you’ve got some nasty bumps and bruises, young lady,” the man says. He comes around to the bedside opposite Yoongi. As he fiddles with checking IV-fluid levels, he says, “This man here says he’s your guardian. Is that correct?”

Eunha takes a sideways glance at Yoongi just in time to see his ears turn bright red. She swallows before she says, “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Good, good. We’re going to move you to a more comfortable suite. I would like you to stay until I see that rib of yours healed a bit more. And to get a couple more rounds of vitamins and fluids in you.”

“My rib?” Eunha asks, trying to take all the information in, despite the waves of exhaustion now crashing over her.

“It’s broken. Well, only cracked, thankfully.” His lips come together in a thin line of disapproval.

Eunha furrows her brow. She doesn’t quite remember when her rib might have cracked, but guesses during her struggle with her abductors. “My rib is broken.”

The man has stopped fiddling with the IV. Now he’s looking straight at Eunha looking very unimpressed. Again, Eunha wonders if the whole medical staff thinks she intentionally went out and injured herself. He says, “Yes, your rib is broken. Luckily, that seems to be the only broken bone. Your face is bruised and I think you’ve managed to avoid fracturing any bones in your cheek or around your eye.”

The man moves forward into Eunha’s space to get a close look at her facial wounds. Eunha flinches backwards at the sudden movement, pain shooting through her at the rapid movement. As her breathing quickens both from the shock and pain, she thinks to herself that yes, yes her rib is broken. She feels Yoongi softly slide his hand into hers and she tries unsuccessfully to take a deep breath.

“I don’t think there will be any scarring, but I’ll have to reassess when some of the swelling goes down. I’ve prescribed some ointments the nurses will help you with. They’ll be more to take home with you,” the man shifts to looking at Yoongi with his last sentence. “She’ll need more rest once she’s home, but if she stays here for another seven or so days, I trust she’ll make a full recovery.”

“Seven days?” Eunha asks loudly. She can feel Yoongi squeeze her hand with his. “I am not staying here for seven days.”

The man purses his lips in clear annoyance. “Given the state you’re in, I don’t think you should be making any declarations or decisions of the sort, young lady.”

“Excuse me?” Eunha practically shouts the question.

“Eunha,” Yoongi murmurs.

Anger blooms inside her wondering whose side Yoongi is on. Are they all patronizing her right now? Her exhaustion is clouding her thoughts, but she’s pretty sure everyone is patronizing her right now.

“Yes, well, get some rest,” the man continues, his face remaining neutral. He looks at Yoongi again and says, “If she’s still agitated, tell the nurse. I’ll leave a recommendation for a sedative to help her sleep.”

Eunha gasps and Yoongi’s hand squeezing her own is the only thing that stops her from ripping the IV line out of her skin.

The man turns back towards the curtain. Just before he snaps it shut, he says, “That order for the suite should be through the system in a couple of hours.”

Eunha stares at the still-rustling curtain where the man had been standing moments before.

“I can’t stay here, Yoongi,” she says finally, voice much quieter. “Hospitals. I can’t-“

“Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do. We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can, okay?,” Yoongi says. He grabs the cup of water and helps her take a few more sips. “Do you think you can sleep? You need rest.”

Eunha closes her eyes and tries to take another deep breath. She thinks the doctor must have put an additional dose of pain killer in her IV, because breathing is easier now and the pain is lessened. However, her brain is feeling foggier with each passing moment. Without opening her eyes, she says, “Can you go back to Mina, please? I would feel better if you were with her.”

She opens her eyes to find Yoongi looking at her with his mouth slightly agape. But as soon as his eyes meet hers, he’s pulling himself together, and moving to fill her water cup once more.

“I’ll go take care of Mina. You call me if you need anything. Please?” he asks as he arranges everything—water cup, nurse call button, tissues—within arms reach for Eunha.

“Yeah, thank you,” Eunha says. A sudden thought drifts through her fogging mind and she exclaims, “Oh wait, my haegeum? Did it- where is it?”

“At home,” Yoongi says as he finishes moving things around the room. “Everything you left at work is safely at home now.”

Eunha detects some kind of tone in his statement, but she can’t read it. She’s too tired to keep fighting for information anyway, so she just nods in acceptance.

“Okay, I’ll come back later to see about how we can get you home sooner,” Yoongi says. He fiddles with his phone in his hands, clearly not sure how to leave. Eunha once again thinks she must look pretty bad to have him this worried.

“I’ll be fine until you get back. I’ll just sleep,” she says, more to try to comfort the man in front of her than anything else.

He nods, either believing her lies or understanding he needs to just accept the comfort. “Okay, I’m off then.”

Before Eunha can even process what’s happening, Yoongi leans over and brushes his lips lightly on her forehead. Then he’s gone, out the curtain, green fabric waving wildly from the pole suspending it in the air. Eunha thinks she can still feel an echo of the warm buzz of his soul on her skin.

Sleep, or even real rest, in a hospital is a joke. A nurse comes by what feels like every 15 minutes to poke and prod Eunha, checking vitals and fluid levels and whatever else they are looking for. Realistically, she realizes they are probably coming every hour or maybe every two hours, but it feels like less time. Each time she’s almost dozed off, sleep finally claiming her tired and aching body, she’s jolted awake by another pair of hands moving the IV line in her hand or pressing into sore spots on her body.

Beyond having no body autonomy and being slowly tortured with no rest, there’s the constant humming in the air. Hospitals, at the best of times, are the worst—they smell of antiseptic and filtered air, the fluorescent lights buzz overhead in the most distracting way, and the quiet of the ward just shows how very ill the patients around her are.

However, as someone attuned to death, hospitals are actually the worst. Souls so frequently cross the border between life and death here that the doorway is always cracked open just a little bit. Eunha can feel it under her skin and she hates it. Perhaps if she were in better condition—not exhausted, beaten up, and terrified—she might be able to ignore the discomfort. She might feel safer with her haegeum with her. However, none of this is true.

While the hospital is certainly an upgrade from being duct taped to a chair and being hit across the face, it’s not much of an upgrade. Especially when the doctors and nurses seem to be almost as awful as XYZ. She wants to leave, desperately.

Eventually, two friendly looking nurses show up with a wheelchair.

“Am I being discharged?” Eunha asks hopefully.

One of the two nurses, a taller man with a friendly smile, laughs softly as he says, “No, just moving you to your new suite.”

“New suite?” Eunha asks, trying to process everything. “Does Yoongi know I’m being moved?”

“Yoongi?” the other nurse, a shorter woman with a sour face, asks.

“My, uh- my guardian? He was here earlier?” At least Eunha hopes he was actually here earlier and not an hallucination. “He won’t know where I am if I move.”

“Ah, your guardian, yes,” the man says. He’s busy grabbing IV bags off the stationary pole attached to the bed and moving them over to hang off the wheelchair. “He’s the one that requested we move you.”

“Oh,” is all Eunha can think to say.

“It’s nice you have a benefactor, someone in your state,” the grumpy nurse says. “Although, I think his spoiling you is going to make it so you don’t really learn your lesson here.”

“Excuse me?” Eunha says, jaw slack.

“Let’s get this over with,” she says, ignoring Eunha’s angry surprise.

The two nurses help her to move from the bed to the wheelchair. She suddenly realizes exactly how injured her body is. Everything aches. There is a fire in her side where her rib is broken. She fights the tears that automatically burn at her eyes at the sudden influx of pain.

“We should have given her more pain medication before trying to move her,” the man says to the woman.

The woman just tuts as she secures Eunha’s feet in the chair’s footrest. Eunha recognizes her now as the nurse that was grumbling about her injuries during an earlier check up. This bodes well.

Eunha grips the armrests of the wheelchair and closes her eyes, willing the pain to fade away. The grumpy nurse starts pushing her chair, navigating out the room past the other curtained patient areas and into the hallway. She’s pushing slowly, as if she doesn’t have anything else in the world to be doing today. Eunha supposes she’s happy they are going slowly so as not to jostle her rib. The other nurse walks along with them amiably.

“Did you see that news report this morning?” the man asks cheerfully, clearly happy to just gossip while they walk at a snail’s pace down the hallway.

The grumpy nurse grunts before she replies, “No. I’ve been on a double shift since early this morning.”

Eunha thinks that must explain why she’s so irritated.

“Ah, well, that politician? I don’t remember his name. He’s that young one, clearly trying to make his path to Mayor of Seoul, you know him?” the other nurse pushes on. When no one says anything in response, he continues, “Well, anyway, he apparently made some speech at some private party last night. The video was leaked to the press this morning. It was playing on all the morning news broadcasts.”

When he lapses into silence, the other nurse finally barks out, “So?”

“Ah, well,” he says happily, as if he was waiting for some kind of engagement, “he was talking about magic. You know, all that shady business that happens in the bad parts of town.”

The man waves his hands vaguely in a direction, as if to reference some geography that probably meant something to the other nurse. If Eunha were to guess, he’s talking about the area of Incheon she was just held in—or even the neighborhood of her previous rooftop apartment.

“He was saying magic isn’t just happening in crime dens, but everywhere,” the nurse sounds incredulous as he says it. “He says it’s all around us, we are just ignorant to it. That the hooligans are just walking around in broad daylight!”

Eunha feels her heart rate pick up as fear grips her body.

“How ridiculous,” the grumpy nurse grumbles.

“No, there’s more!” the man says. Eunha thinks he sounds quite gleeful for someone who has discovered the ‘criminal element’ is infiltrating his life. The nurse pushing the wheelchair picks up her pace just slightly.

“He said that vampires don’t just control the slums,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper in gleeful conspiracy. “He said vampires are behind in the shadows everywhere, controlling all the big businesses and industries. He as good as said vampires are controlling the government. And he’s made it his life mission to stop them. He’s going to take out the magic-wielding criminals and the vampires. Imagine!”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me,” the grumpy nurse says.

Eunha’s tired mind is reeling, trying to piece together what she’s just heard. Someone is going around getting filmed exposing the vampire coven. If this man is human, he would have been stopped by now. Eunha feels her head start to ache, as the chipper nurse pushes the elevator call button. Nothing makes sense.

The two nurses keep talking as they walk through the hospital, but Eunha tunes them out. The pain is reverberating through her body and she just wants to lay down and sleep.

She opens her eyes with a start when someone shakes her shoulder. “Miss, we’re here. Let’s help you into bed.”

Eunha looks around to find herself in a private suite—a very fancy private suite.

“Where am I?” she asks.

The shorter nurse tuts in annoyance, but the man answers, “We’re in your new suite. Do you remember us walking here?”

“Maybe we should recheck her for head injuries,” the grumpy nurse comments sarcastically.

“Miss? Do you remember coming to the hospital? We changed rooms at the request of your guardian,” the man tries again.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Eunha says. “I just don’t understand. I can’t afford this room.”

If Eunha were to be honest, she actually can’t afford the bed in the public ward either, but her brain isn’t letting her worry about that right now.

“Ah, well, your guardian requested it. Is that going to be a problem?” the man asks.

Eunha looks around the room. It is quiet and far away from other patients. Maybe, she decides, she won’t fight this today. So, she nods and the nurses tuck her into bed. They hang up her IVs and add another bag of something to the pole.

“Will you tell my guardian I’m here? Give him my new room number?” Eunha asks. She realizes as she’s speaking she doesn’t have her phone or any way of contacting him. Both nurses look at her unimpressed. The grumpy nurse is frowning with a scowl furrowing her brow and the man is giving a sugary fake smile that turns Eunha’s insides.

“You can call out from this phone,” the grumpy nurse points to her bedside table. “Just press 9 first.”

“Alright, I’ve given you fresh painkillers and vitamins,” the man says with a smile. “Get some sleep now. We’ll wake you for dinner.”

Eunha nods meekly from her prone position and the two nurses bustle out of the room. As soon as the pain subsides, sleep takes her quickly.

Eunha sleeps hard and when a new friendly looking nurse is waking her for dinner she’s groggy, feeling like she needs another solid 12 hours of sleep. Maybe more. Her body needs the time to recover, she knows, and she’s honestly not sure what kind of painkillers they have her on, but they must be strong. She’s glad for the meal and even more glad when everything is cleared away and she can go back to sleep.

After dinner, in the fog of sleepiness, Eunha briefly wonders if everything is okay with Mina, but she realizes quickly she cannot call Yoongi. She can’t call anyone, because she doesn’t have their phone numbers. Yoongi’s number is long gone with her phone—wherever it ended up. Eunha sighs. She can only hope Mina is okay and she’s grateful to have Mina avoid the hospital as much as possible. With those thoughts and wishes floating around in her head, she quickly falls back asleep in the quiet room.

“It’s been a over 12 hours on these pain meds, I think we’ll go ahead and stop them now that you’re moved to this quieter suite,” an elderly doctor says, not looking at Eunha but at her chart. “I’ll note to have the nurses bring you over-the-counter pain medication.”

This man had woken her up an hour after she had finally fallen asleep after dinner. Eunha looks at him with distaste, though her mind is still foggy. The exhaustion is making her near tears. With a snap of the clipboard, he walks over to the IV and makes a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Any other complaints?” he asks, finally making eye contact with Eunha.

She shakes her head to deny any further problems—at least none this doctor could do anything about.

The doctor nods once and then says, “Press the nurse call button if you need anything else. Someone will come check on you in the morning before breakfast.”

Without waiting for much response, the doctor is bustling out of the room. Eunha stares perplexed at the sliding door before she sighs to settle back into the pillow. Despite her exhaustion, she’s more awake now than she’s been all day.

When she closes her eyes to try to will herself back to sleep, the buzzing begins. She can’t tell if it’s physical or auditory, the vibrations feel like they are coming from inside her head. Then she feels the familiar tension pull at her scalp.

Sighing, she instinctively tries to roll to her left side to ease the tension by curling herself smaller. She almost screams at the pain that radiates from her rib cage. Panting she relaxes herself onto her back again, trying to will the pain to fade.

“Fuck that doctor, seriously,” Eunha whispers angrily at the dark. “Fuck this whole fucking hospital.”

She closes her eyes. She muses that maybe if she pretends to be asleep, it’ll just magically become true. At the same time, the pulling in her scalp worsens and begins running down her neck along her spine.

Suddenly, as if a coil is released, the tension snaps and fades immediately. Eunha sucks in her breath, careful of her ribs this time, and she squeezes her eyes shut. Someone nearby most likely just died and a reaper helped their soul along. She wouldn’t be feeling every single death and soul passing like this otherwise. Fear prickles like moths in her stomach.

Now that she thinks about it, this place is probably crawling with grim reapers, as well as all sorts of other non-human elements. The very people the two gossipy nurses were perplexed about earlier, trying to imagine them living beyond their ghettos. The non-humans that more accurately run this city and inhabit every neighborhood and crawl through all the businesses and public services. Of course, it’s always been in the non-human element’s best interest to remain somewhat elusive and mysterious. It’s easier to co-exist from the shadows.

The tension along Eunha’s scalp is pulling, ever-so-slightly, again. She runs a hand through her hair in frustration. Will a nurse give her a strong pain medication if she asks for it? She looks wistfully at the call button. She wishes she had Yoongi’s number. Calling to check in on Mina would be a wonderful distraction right now.

With no sense of time, the pulling in her scalps worsens until it snaps again, giving her a few moments of reprieve. Soon, it repeats itself —over and over.

Just how many people are dying in this hospital?

And why do they need the assistance of a grim reaper—each and every one of them?

Eunha wants to scream in frustration, but the repeated pulling and snap of release is making her nauseous. She’s exhausted.

Finally, she hears a soft click as the door to her room slides open and a tall, thin person wearing blue scrubs comes into the dimly lit room. Eunha watches as they walk to her file and check it before walking closer to check her IV bags. When they look over to Eunha, their face shifts in surprise to see her awake.

“Please,” Eunha says. “Can I have something for pain?”

The nurse smiles at her kindly and says, “According to your chart, you’re already on the max dose of the over-the-counter given to you at last check-in.”

Eunha can’t stifle the whimper. She’s so tired and just wants to sleep. She says, “Please, it’s not strong enough. I can’t sleep because I hurt.”

“Now, that might be true, dear, but the doctor is pretty confident you’re just drug seeking since you won’t even give us your name, so I’m afraid anything stronger is off limits,” the nurse says. They move again to the chart at the end of the bed and make a couple of notes.

Eunha, in her exhaustion, doesn’t quite understand what the nurse is saying. “Can you call my guardian?”

The nurse frowns from the end of the bed. “It’s the middle of the night. Get some sleep and I’m sure your guardian will be by tomorrow.”

Eunha opens her mouth to protest, but the nurse is already moving towards the door. They are gone before Eunha can think of anything in response.

She closes her eyes and balls her fingers into fists as the tension along her scalp and neck become too great again. She resigns herself to a long, tiring night.

She’s not sure how time still flows around her as her skin is pushed and pulled over and over again. But soon, the light in the room seems a bit brighter, dawn creeping over Seoul. A soft click of the door brings her attention to the newcomer, slipping through the entryway.

A pretty woman in a business suit steps into the room, her heels clacking on the linoleum. Eunha thinks she’s quite pretty. The sort of woman other women might be jealous of.

Looking back on this moment, Eunha would kick herself for not seeing the obvious. And maybe if she were less tired and broken from a night of terror and pain, she might be more alert. Unfortunately, she’s not alert and just eyes the new woman warily.

“Hello, Miss, I am a social worker with the hospital, Yong Suhwa,” the woman says with a sharp bow.

Eunha just bows in return without speaking.

The woman pulls a rolling chair up to the side of the bed and sits delicately in it. She glances around the room, taking in the sterile emptiness of the room. She turns her face back to Eunha and says, “How are you feeling, Miss?”

Eunha looks at her and blinks. After a moment she realizes that she’s been asked a question. After a time, she responds with, “I’m tired.”

Yong Suhwa hums with a nod.

Eunha is too tired to figure out if the silence that stretches between them is awkward or not.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Miss?” the woman says, finally.

“I guess not, but I’m not sure what I can say,” Eunha says truthfully.

Yong Suhwa nods again and says, “Just do your best.”

Eunha nods tentatively.

“Do you mind telling me your name?” the woman asks first.

“I, uh, would rather not,” Eunha says.

The woman writes something down on a small notepad she pulls out of her suit pocket. She asks, “How did you sustain these injuries?”

“Uh,” Eunha stalls again. “I, uh, am not sure I can tell you that either.”

Eunha feels a bit hot under the woman’s stern gaze. She doesn’t like how trapped she feels, especially now with someone trying to will her way into information that will just end up putting Eunha in more danger.

“Are you worried I won’t believe you?” the woman asks, pen poised over the notepad.

This catches Eunha off guard. “Believe me? No, I just, I can’t tell you the details.”

“Miss, I promise that no matter what you say, I will do what I can to keep you safe,” Yong Suhwa says. Eunha thinks she’s trying to sound comforting, but it just sounds hollow and maybe even a bit threatening.

Alarm bells finally go off in Eunha’s mind. She knew there was a weird aura about the woman when she walked in, but she didn’t notice it in her delirium. She’s a ghoul.

“I, uh,” Eunha tries to stay calm as she speaks. She wets her lips with her tongue, trying to figure out a way out of this room, out of this hospital. She’s trapped. No weapon, no musical instrument, no pain medication, no sleep. “I, uh, am really tired. I think I would like to sleep some more.”

Eunha wills her breathing to not spike or sound anxious. If there is a ghoul here, then there is at least one vampire taking interest in living patients in this hospital. Vampires having backdoor deals with the blood banks and sometimes the morgue is not uncommon. But having them poking around the living, that’s not common at all.

“There, there,” the ghoul says, the comforting tone making goosebumps break out across Eunha’s skin. “I will let you sleep and come back and see if you’re feeling better to answer my questions. Is there anything I can help you with? Get you something to help you sleep?”

“No!” Eunha doesn’t mean to shout the word, but the thought of being put on a sedative when she now knows that she can’t let her guard down sends terror through her in waves. “I mean, no, I’m sleepy enough on my own. I just need rest, like the doctor said.”

Yong Suhwa stands and leans over Eunha with an eerie smile on her face. She reaches out her hand as if to brush hair off of Eunha’s face, but Eunha flinches back into the pillow instinctively. The ghoul pulls her hand back with a small “tut.”

“Rest well, then, Miss,” the ghoul says.

With a smart turn on her heels, she strides out the door, closing it with an ominous click behind her.

Yoongi hears raised voices before he’s even to the door of the private hospital suite. He quickens his walk and pauses for a moment to listen before pulling open the suite door.

“I told you, I am not some homeless drug seeker,” Eunha’s voice is muffled and sounds strained. “Since you won’t treat me properly, I am simply asking to be discharged.”

“Now, Miss, calm down,” comes another voice.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Eunha shouts.

Yoongi decides to open the door to the suite, his brow wrinkled in concern.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s looking at, after a momentary panic in seeing Eunha’s hospital bed empty. There is a doctor standing near the bed with a frown on his face, arms crossed across his white doctor’s coat. A nurse is standing by the bed, looking ready to pounce. And the person they are ready to pounce on is Eunha, who is looking small and pale—even paler than usual. The dark purple bags under her eyes blend with the bruises, now color her face as they start to shift from dark red and purple to green. She’s standing, fists tight at her sides, wearing her dirty street clothes, covered in blood and grime, from when she checked into the hospital. Her hair is pulled back off her face and her whole body tremors slightly.

“Miss, you need to change into your hospital clothes and get back into bed now,” the doctor says firmly, clearly not having heard the door.

“No, I have asked to leave. You can’t keep me here against my will,” Eunha says in a shaky voice.

“I have said we will call your guardian after breakfast,” the doctor continues. He sounds exasperated, as if he’s talking to a willful 5-year-old about a new toy, not a grown woman who is clearly scared and asking to not be held against her will.

“Miss, your guardian will say the same thing. You need rest,” the nurse tries.

Eunha scoffs. “Rest? Rest! I need to leave. I’m not safe here. I can’t rest here. You won’t even give me pain medication!”

Yoongi frowns at that.

“You have been given proper over-the-counter pain treatment,” the doctor replies.

“Bullshit. I can take that at home. Now please get out of my way,” Eunha says. Even as she says it, she slumps backwards into the chair behind her.

The nurse moves forward at the same time Yoongi does. They clearly don’t see Yoongi, as they reach out for Eunha.

“Come to bed now,” they say.

Eunha leans forward, arms wrapped around her rib cage. She grits out, “No, you can’t keep me here. I want to leave.”

Yoongi’s heart seizes at how broken she sounds. He surges forward past the doctor and stands in front of Eunha so the nurse is forced to take a step back.

“I believe I heard her say that she’d like to leave,” Yoongi says in a low, menacing voice. “So, please bring me the paperwork to check her out now.”

“Ah, you’re here,” the doctor says, ignoring the tone in Yoongi’s voice.

“Yes,” Yoongi says as he narrows his eyes at the doctor, “and now that I’m here, I’d like the paperwork to begin checking out.”

“This patient is in no condition to be checked out, sir,” the doctor says. “Honestly, after this little tantrum, I’d like to ask for a psych consult.”

Eunha scoffs under her breath, but otherwise doesn’t move or speak.

Yoongi, on the other hand, takes a deep breath, body ready to fight. Instead, he says, “I suggest you keep the rest of your opinions to yourself, doctor. Please go get the paperwork and give us a moment alone.”

No one in the room moves.

“Unless you would like me to call my lawyer,” Yoongi adds.

That seems to have been some kind of magic word, because both the nurse and the doctor glance at each other before quickly vacating the room.

When they are finally alone, Eunha still sitting taut at the edge of the chair, fingers digging into her knees, Yoongi moves to crouch in front of her. He bends so that he can look up into her face and see the utter exhaustion and fear etched across the lines of her brow and in the tightness of her lips.

“Hey, it’s okay, everyone is gone now,” he murmurs. His hands hover on either side of her, not sure what to do with them. He wants to reach out, maybe pat her back, but he’s honestly not sure what will hurt and, perhaps more importantly, he’s not not sure what he’s allowed to touch, if anything at all.

“They want to keep me here. Just like the thugs were keeping me,” Eunha croaks out.

Yoongi feels his heart breaking into a thousand pieces. He should have brought her home last night. He feels stupid for trusting the doctors.

Another beat passes before Eunha falls forwards, straight into Yoongi’s outstretched arms. As she wraps out her arms around his neck, tucking all of herself against his body, she gives out a small yelp of pain.

“Hey, hey, careful,” Yoongi says as he wraps his arms gently around hers, mindful of potential areas of injury along her ribcage.

He can feel her fisting at his shirt along his shoulder blades, her body still shaking in an alarming way. She whispers so softly, he might not have heard had she not been pressed so closely to his ear, “Please, I want to go home.”

“We’re going right now. I’ll take you home,” Yoongi whispers back. He tightens his grip around Eunha just slightly as he feels the woman melting into his lap.

She’s asleep before the doctor has even returned with the discharge paperwork.

#thearmyprof #bts ff #bts fanfic #myg #bts fantasy au #fae bts #bts angst

6 notes · View notes

thearmyprof · 2 years ago

Text

Endless Sea, but the water is warm here

~OVERVIEW~

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Original Character

Word count currently: 50,410

Chapters: 8/?

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Idol!AU, Canon Divergent,

Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content

Summary:

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45497923

Full Tags:

Navigation:

Chapter 1 (wc: 6021)

Chapter 2 (wc: 6490)

Chapter 3 (wc: 6302)

Chapter 4 (wc: 6380)

Chapter 5 (wc: 6518)

Chapter 6 (wc: 6017)

Chapter 7 (wc: 6438)

Chapter 8 (wc: 6174)

#thearmyprof #bts ff #bts fanfic #myg #bts fantasy au #fae bts #bts angst

2 notes · View notes

thearmyprof · 2 years ago

Text

Endless Sea, but the water is warm here Ch. 6

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Original Character

Word count: 6017

Chapters: 6/?

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Idol!AU, Canon Divergent,

Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content

Overview post: https://at.tumblr.com/thearmyprof/endless-sea-but-the-water-is-warm-here/h8ruhjcuzs62

Summary:

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45497923

Full Tags:

CHAPTER SIX.

Yoongi awoke with a gasp. He looks around for the source of what woke him and startles at his unfamiliar surroundings. It takes him a full minute of blearily looking around to realize he's in the guest room, now dimly lit by sun coming through the cracks in the curtains. He thinks back to the night before and remembers listening to Mina's singing. He looks down at the sleeping girl. She looks so small yet peaceful, Yoongi feels his heart break a little.

He gasps again at the realization he's been asleep for who knows how long and is now quite awake. Namjoon still has his phone. Yoongi’s anxiety spikes as he imagines having slept through a critical phone call. Carefully, he wiggles himself out of Mina’s embrace. Once he’s free he speedwalks to the door, opens it slowly, as quietly as possible, and, once through, shuts it just as carefully. Then he’s sprinting down the hallway to the kitchen in search of his phone.

He vaguely registers the puppy pile that are all his BTS brothers sleeping soundly in the living room. Some on the couch, some on a makeshift bed on the floor. All a tangle of limbs and blankets.

Well, all except for Jin, apparently, who is busy cooking. Yoongi has the fleeting thought that he hopes he’s cooking again rather than still.

“Yoongi, good morning,” Jin says, voice still crunchy with sleep. “Did you sleep well?”

“Maybe too well,” Yoongi mumbles as his eyes skim all the surfaces of the kitchen and dining room for his phone. “What time ’s it? Have you seen my phone?”

“It’s just past 8 in the morning and I think Joon has your phone,” Jin says. He flips whatever he’s cooking.

Yoongi turns back around to the living room at Jin’s words in search of Namjoon. When he gets to the mass of sleeping men, he quickly finds his target sleeping soundly on the couch, snoring into the cushion. Yoongi steps through the others sleeping on the floor and shakes Namjoon’s shoulder while eyeing around his body for his phone.

“What time? What?” Namjoon says groggily.

“My phone, Joon-ah, where’s my phone?” Yoongi asks, not worrying about waking anyone else.

“Phone?”

“My phone, Namjoon,” Yoongi says more loudly. “Did I get any calls?”

“Mm,” Namjoon hums as he digs under himself. Yoongi doesn’t want to know exactly where he pulled the phone out from him as he grabs the device.

Without moving, Yoongi taps the screen and unlocks the phone, still warm in his palm from Namjoon’s body heat. He scans the notifications, but there’s nothing relevant. He stands still, closing his eyes, as disappointment washes over him. He only allows himself to wallow before he extracts himself from the room again. No one else had stirred through his loudly determined phone retrieval.

He walks slowly back to the kitchen when something catches his eye in the front hall. A box with a plant sticking out over the open top, a worn messenger bag, and a black, scuffed up instrument case. He stumbles forward, landing on his knees in front of the objects. His fingers move, with featherlight touches, over the instrument case. Someone must have dropped Eunha’s things from her workplace last night after he’d fallen asleep.

Yoongi lets his fingers grasp the zipper pull of the case and slide it open. He lifts the lid slowly as if afraid of what might pop out. But nothing happens as the lid hits the box behind it. The haegeum lays quiet, nestled in its case. The polished wood of the instrument body seems to be glowing in the filtered light from the living room windows. He’s not sure if he imagines the feeling of life that emanates from the wood and silk strings. He tries to control his breathing as he thinks how Eunha might be feeling right now without it.

As Yoongi’s eyes rove over the contents, he sees a photograph peeking out of the pocket in the lid. Carefully, with a single pointer finger at its edge, he slides the photo out enough to see the image. A small baby is swaddled in a green blanket, snuggled into the arms of a young man. His face is hidden behind the long brown hair that’s hanging to his shoulders, concealing his profile as he looks down at the baby. What’s visible of the background is blurry but Yoongi is reminded of a hospital. A fresh wave of sorrow washes over him inexplicably as he looks at the photo. Quickly, he tucks it back where he found it and closes up and zips up the case again. He wipes the single tear that tracks down his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Those came shortly after you fell asleep. No one wanted to disturb you two,” Jin says. He is standing in the doorway to the kitchen with an apron on and a spatula in his hand. “We hoped it could wait until today.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Yoongi says as he stands, knees cracking. “Everyone stayed over.”

Jin nods even though it was a statement, not a question. “We aren’t about to leave you alone. Especially when we don’t actually know what’s going on.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Yoongi bows his head a little in guilt. “When everyone is up, I’ll explain. At least as much as I know. Let me help you finish breakfast, hyung.”

Jin nods and turns his back, heading towards the stove to flip whatever he’s cooking. They work together in silence for a while, before Jin clears his throat lightly.

“I take it there was no news on your phone?” he asks quietly, eyes focused on his cooking.

Yoongi hums in acknowledgement as he gets some side dishes his mother had brought on her last visit out of the refrigerator.

“A storm blew through last night,” Jin comments.

Yoongi hums again, not trusting himself to speak as the zing of anxiety shoots through him again. Rain is probably the least of Eunha’s problems, he thinks to himself grimly.

The silence stretches out between them again, but it’s not uncomfortable. They’ve known each other for a decade, and were roommates for much of that time. They know when to push and when to just silently support one another.

Soon, the men still in the living room began stirring. Jungkook was quick to grab the bathroom before anyone else had stirred, leaving a sleepy-eyed Namjoon to sheepishly ask Yoongi if he could use the bathroom in Yoongi’s room before heading down the hall murmuring about Jungkook being a little shit.

Jimin and Taehyung sit at the dining table, giggling quietly over some video on one of their phones. Hoseok is picking up the living room, cleaning up the mess from last night and putting bedding away. Yoongi washes his hands and pats them dry, watching the bustle around him, feeling warm with gratitude.

“Should we wake Mina for breakfast?” Jin asks. He starts bringing food over to the table. To Jimin and Taehyung he says, “Maybe get plates for everyone?”

The two younger members get up immediately, moving around to get plates and utensils for the group, clearly knowing Yoongi’s kitchen as well as they do their own.

“Let’s just keep a plate warm for her. I want her to rest if she needs rest,” Yoongi says after thinking for a moment.

“I know she doesn’t seem to…talk much,” Jin says, hesitating as if looking for the right words to say. Yoongi just nods, encouraging him to continue. “Will she tell us if she needs something? Will she tell you? I worry.”

Yoongi tilts his head in thought. He stares out the far windows in the living room to the morning sun over Seoul. He thinks back to how she tugged on him last night and how she seemed to have no qualms cuddling up to him to sleep.

“Yeah, I think she’ll tell me if she needs something, hyung,” Yoongi says.

Even though he had just said to not wake Mina up, after that question from Jin, he decides just to go peek in on her and make sure she is, in fact, still sleeping.

The room is still dark and Yoongi only cracks the door open wide enough so he can confirm Mina is still sound asleep under the covers, careful not to let too much light into the room. As he closes the door again he feels a sudden pull in his chest. There is an ache in his lungs and he buckles over at the feeling of the wind being knocked out of him.

He’s on the floor, on his hands and knees, gasping to get air back into his lungs. For a brief moment he thinks he hears Eunha’s voice say his name. Just as quickly, the air floods back into his lungs and he’s taking in big gulps.

“Hyung? Hyung! Are you okay?” he can hear Jungkook’s voice coming from the doorway of the guest bathroom.

Yoongi is already pushing himself off the floor, using the wall to support his weight, before Jungkook is at his side.

“Hyung?”

“I’m okay,” Yoongi pants out, straightening up. “I think it’s just stress.”

“You sure, hyung?” Jungkook asks. He puts an arm around Yoongi as if ready for him to fall down again.

“I’m fine, Kook-ah,” Yoongi says. “Just got a little dizzy for a moment, moved too fast. Let’s go eat breakfast, huh?”

“Alright, hyung,” Jungkook acquiesces, but keeps a wary eye on his hyung as they walk back out to the dining room.

Eunha has no idea what time it is. The lighting in the room, dim to begin with, with only the lamp on the desk across the room, has never changed. The only things indicating any passage in time are the growing, incessant aches in her body. The throbbing in her cheek where she’s lost count of how many times she’s been backhanded since her arrival is echoed in her joints in her arms and legs from not being able to change positions. Her vision is also somewhat impaired with her eye partially swollen shut where she’s been hit. She’s also pretty sure she’s going to soil her pants after the juk and water they forced her to eat however long ago that was.

She closes her eyes and searches for the right song for a soul connection. That is her latest theory, anyway. She has the symbols she needs now to send a signal to Yoongi, but she needs a better melody. Maybe, she thinks, it’s less about the symbols in this case, but a melody that would strengthen the bond between the two souls. She clears her throat, ignoring the ache there. Another sign she’s been there quite a while if she’s parched again.

Eunha thinks back to the melody Yoongi and Mina had been listening to—the song Yoongi said Mina had helped with—and tries to hum it. When she thinks she has it right, she stops, listening for any sign of life outside the room. There is the sound of music, muffled, from somewhere in the building. She thinks she must be well underground or hidden away in the building if she can’t even hear traffic or other signs of life.

The melody reverberates out of her parted, bruised lips. As soon as she feels the melody is in her control, she imagines the symbols for connection, communication, and bridges. She can feel the spell working, the feeling of a ball of sunshine expanding from the center of her chest. It’s weak, flickering, but working.

“Yoongi,” she thinks through the bond. She thinks she can almost hear Yoongi’s gasp through the open channel, but can’t tell if it’s real or hopefully imagined.

Just then the door behind her slams open and she immediately stops humming. The spell fizzles out in her chest as a henchmen walks over with another tray of food. He’s a different guy from the last time.

“Time to eat, sunshine,” he says, holding out a spoon to Eunha’s lips.

Despite making a disgusted face at the familiarity in which he speaks to her, she doesn’t resist eating what’s offered this time, not really wanting to add more bruises to her body.

“Boss says if you’re good, I can take you to the washroom,” the henchman says, sloppily putting another spoonful of juk in Eunha’s mouth.

Her stomach clenches with hunger as she eats. All too soon, the bowl is empty and the henchman is tilting the glass of water to her lips. She ends up coughing and losing most of the contents on the henchman’s shirt.

“You little shit,” he says.

Eunha, still coughing, chokes out, “You’re the asshole trying to drown me.”

“Come on, let’s get this over with. I want you tied back up before Boss comes down,” he says.

He pulls a long blade out from his back where he must have it sheathed on a belt. He grips her limbs hard, enough to leave fresh bruises, as he saws the duct tape apart.

As soon as she’s free, Eunha falls forward onto the floor. Everything is stiff and hurts. The man doesn’t give her time to recover, immediately yanking her up by an arm. She wills herself not to cry out in pain, knowing he’s adding more bruises to the tapestry of her skin.

He half-drags, half-carries her by her arm through the door that stands behind her chair. She keeps her eyes up as best she can, taking in everything around her. The door opens to a dimly lit hallway, fluorescent lights overhead flicker in a sickly pale yellow. There are a couple other doors along the hall and a dark stairway at the end. She at least confirms the basement theory. The man pulls her the other direction into what appears to be a restroom.

He shoves her into the larger wheelchair accessible stall before saying, “Don’t try anything funny. I’ll wait for you in the hallway. If you take too long, you’ll regret it.”

Eunha nods and allows herself a moment to be grateful that Park Donghyun’s henchmen seem to be as idiotic as him.

The outer door to the restroom slams shut and Eunha is left in the green tiled bathroom, with the only audible sound being the sink dripping slowly. First thing she does is stretch out her body, letting her joints fully extend for the first time since who knows how long. Then she quickly attends to her bladder.

Bodily needs taken care of, she hobbles over to the sink to wash her hands. She gasps as she sees her reflection in the broken bathroom mirror. Her left cheek is swollen and crusted over in dried blood. Her left eye is also swollen and black. Her lips have a cut and the swelling on the left explains why she couldn’t whistle.

She quickly looks around the room for anything that can help her make her escape. She knows she doesn’t have much time before the henchman gets bored or suspicious. She realizes probably this restroom has been stripped of anything useful, which is why they felt confident leaving her in here. Little do they know she’s not as pathetic or as human as they assume she is.

Eunha runs the water again and drinks from the palms of her hands, letting the cold water soothe her sore throat. She uses the time to quiet her mind. She knows she’ll only get one shot at this and she needs to make it count.

She slips to the side of the sinks just next to the door, flattening herself against the wall, letting the wall take her weight temporarily. Clearing her throat once, she lets a low hum start in her chest. Then she waits.

“What the hell is taking so long?” the henchman grumbles as he slams open the bathroom door, letting it bounce loudly against the tiled wall. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t have a chance to look bewildered when Eunha hums a quick tune and summons a simple symbol for light, then directs it into the henchman’s eyes. She’s a little dismayed at how loudly he screams. While he’s distracted, Eunha grabs his head as he kneels forward. She lets gravity help her and she throws her weight into slamming his forehead into the ground. Thankfully, it only takes one hit for him to slip unconscious, blood quickly pooling on the tiles under his head.

Knowing with his shouting her time is limited, she runs out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Only when she reaches the bottom of the stairs does she realize she should have taken the man’s knife. Kicking herself mentally, Eunha carefully makes her way up the stairs. She ignores her muscles and joints calling out to her in agony, letting the adrenaline keep her going.

As she reaches the top of the stairs, the deep pounding bass gets louder and she realizes she’s hearing club music—feeling club music vibrate through the floor and the handle of the door. This explains all the bodies she had sensed earlier.

Eunha hesitates with her hand on the door. She wishes she can feel how many souls are on the other side of the wood paneling now, but the light spell sapped her of her remaining energy. She needs whatever reserves she might have to get out of the building in one piece.

With a deep breath, she pulls down the handle of the door and it swings inward onto the small landing at the top of the stairs. The music gets exponentially louder with the door open. Strobing colors of light bounce off the walls and ceiling before her eyes.

It’s a club. And from what she can tell, a fairly hopping club.

There are no discernible guards or henchmen. The club is just full of writhing, dancing bodies and music so loud Eunha wonders if her ears will bleed. The light is so dim, Eunha realizes she might actually be able to slip out through the throng of people without anyone noticing her bloodied and bruised state.

She does the best she can to weave through the crowd. No one pays her much attention. She tries to bounce and sway along with everyone else, not hard with other bodies jostling her and her joints still stiff from confinement, and holds her arms tight at her chest, fists hovering at her throat protectively. The lights make it hard to see details in the room, people more like blurry purple and pink silhouettes against a backdrop of more writhing bodies.

When she gets to the other side of the room where the neon exit sign is clearly lit, she hangs back in the crowd waiting for a chance to sneak out with a group. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment to try to block out some of the sensory overload assaulting her system after having been in relative silence in the dim basement for who knows how long.

Suddenly, there is a hand at her elbow, gripping her tightly. Eunha winces and tries to pull away unsuccessfully. The hand guides her from the crowd to the exit sign. At the realization the person is helping her leave, she gives up fighting—at least until they’re outside.

As soon as they are past the bouncer, the person guiding her leans over to speak into her ear, which is still ringing from the loud music in the club, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Eunha whips her head to look at the person who still has an iron grip on her shoulder.

“Jieun?” she gasps out. “What are you doing here?”

“I asked first, Eunha,” the fae says as she keeps them moving down the dark sidewalk away from the club.

“Where are we going?” Eunha asks, trying to get her bearings. She looks around at the dark streets. This area is fairly deserted, with most people congregating around the club entrance. Eunha squints into the darkness. Looks to be some kind of industrial area. “Where are we?”

“Who did you piss off that your face looks like that?” Jieun asks, ignoring all of Eunha’s questions. “You keep messing up your face like this and I’ll have to stop offering you a job at one of my brothels.”

“Park Donghyun? You know him?” Eunha says, ignoring Jieun’s commentary.

Jieun sucks air through her teeth. “How the fuck did you get on his radar? He owns that club we just crawled out of.”

“Oh,” is all Eunha says for a moment. They are still walking and are probably a couple blocks away from the club now. It’s decidedly empty and dark. She takes a quick glance back towards the light and sound of the club, now distant.

“His club is pretty much the only thing he’s done right in his miserable life, if you ask me,” Jieun continues. “I was there looking for new girls. Found you instead. Sign from the universe, you think?”

Eunha yanks her elbow free and says, “No, I don’t think. Thank you for helping me get away, but I think I’ll be going on my own now.”

“Pity,” Jieun says, not looking that cut up about it. Her lips twist into a smirk. “Next time maybe.”

They both stop walking when they hear the tinkling of a small bell.

“Shit, think that’s my cue to fuck off,” Jieun says.

Before Eunha can even catch her breath, Jieun steps back into the shadow of the building in front of them and disappears.

The exhaustion is starting to catch up to Eunha as she tries to locate the bells. Another moment and a small black cat steps out from a nearby alleyway. It sits and looks at her from several paces away.

“I mean no harm, I just want to travel through,” Eunha says towards the cat.

The cat tilts its head before giving a full-body shake. The tiny bells tinkle again, ringing out in the quiet street. Eunha stays still, not wanting to draw undue attention.

“And tell me, dear cousin, why I should grant you passage,” a clear voice rings out.

Eunha waits for the person to show themselves, doing her best to hold herself upright despite her body growing heavier by the second.

“I would like to know, why I shouldn’t take you to the Seelie Court right now, dear cousin,” the voice says again. This time, it is followed by a tall individual in flowy silver grey robes. Their blue hair is swept into a classy updo laced with fine silver chains, all of which shows off their long pointed ears.

“What is a Sidhe doing,” Eunha starts and then waves around the neighborhood, “wherever we are?”

“Incheon,” the Sidhe says. “We are currently in Incheon. And I am here on business. What brings you here, cousin?”

“Nothing,” Eunha says cooley. “I was brought here against my will and I would like to go back to Seoul now. If you could grant me passage, I’ll be on my way immediately.”

“You aren’t registered, cousin,” the Sidhe says. “I should bring you before the Seelie Court.”

“I have been moved enough places without my consent today. I’ll have to decline your invitation, thank you,” Eunha says. As she finishes talking, big fat raindrops start to fall from the sky. Slowly, but with promises of becoming heavier soon.

The Sidhe clicks their tongue disapprovingly. Both individuals stand facing off on the dark sidewalk as it grows damp. Eunha’s body shakes slightly in her effort to remain upright.

After a long moment, the Sidhe sighs and says, “Very well. I’ll call you a cab.”

“Thank you,” Eunha says, as the rain picks up more, and wills herself to stay conscious just a while longer.

The sunlight filters through the screen of the window onto the floor of the attic. A kitten jumps around chasing the motes of dust floating lazily through the air. It’s the kind of sunlight one can smell, warm, like heated wood and cozy comforters.

“Eunha, do you think he likes you, though, and that’s why he’s been picking on you?” the young man laying on a patchwork quilt spread over the floor like a picnic blanket asks. They’ve been lying there for at least an hour now, whiling away a lazy Saturday afternoon.

“Daniel! What are we, in middle school? We’re seniors in high school, for fuck’s sake. You know, basically adults and all of that,” Eunha, laying next to the man, shoves him hard in the shoulder. “I don’t even know his name, that’s how much I do not care. And anyone who picks on me because they like me can go fuck themselves.”

“Wow, harsh,” Daniel says, rubbing his shoulder. “You know, it wouldn’t be crazy if someone did like you. Although, I agree, if they pick on you, I’ll have to do something about it.”

“Shut up,” Eunha says as she rolls over to watch the kitten, still chasing dust in the sunlight. She wrinkles her nose a bit at the thought of trying to date anyone right now—or ever. “I don’t have time for boys.”

“But you have time for me,” the young man replies. He rolls over onto his stomach and lays an arm across Eunha’s waist.

“You don’t count,” Eunha murmurs. “You know my secrets. And you’re still here.”

“Damn straight, I’m still here,” he says with a huff. “I’m never gonna leave you.”

“I know.” Eunha squeezes her eyes shut as she feels the buzz of Daniel’s soul where his arm is holding her comfortingly. His soul has a warm buzzing to it, but not overwhelming, like the sun Eunha watches catches and refracts against the dust.

She turns around suddenly, coming face to face with him. “You’re my best friend.”

“As long as you know,” Daniel says with a lazy smile. He closes his eyes, soaking in the sun that moves across their quilt.

She studies the freckles that adorn his tanned skin. She holds up one of her pale hands to compare. Eunha found some irony in the fact that Daniel’s ancestors had hailed from somewhere in Europe and still his skin was remarkably tanner than hers. Of course, she was doomed from the first time she stepped into the cold river of death to never have a healthy human glow.

Eunha hadn’t had much solace in friendships since her parents had brought her to America when she was four. They had bought a dilapidated farm in a more rural part of Oregon, a good few hours drive to Portland, which means a good few hours from tolerable society. The children in the local school did not take kindly to an outsider—one who didn’t speak much English at that, one who didn’t look like them. Daniel, though, had been nice from the day they met in middle school. He himself had grown up in Portland and despite being another white boy in a sea of white faces in Eunha’s middle school, he had been nice to her. He hadn’t seen her as other.

Eunha uses her finger to tuck one of Daniel’s long strands of brown hair away from his face. Not even sure if he’s still awake, she murmurs, “My mom sent my applications in for colleges.”

Daniel quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t open his eyes. He huffs into the arm he’s resting his cheek on. “Can she even do that? Is that legal?”

“It is if your mom is Korean,” Eunha laughs quietly.

“What are you going to do?”

“Disappoint her, probably,” Eunha replies. She’s still speaking in a hush, as if her mother might accidentally overhear, even though there’s a whole floor of the house between them.

“You’re not a disappointment, Eunha,” Daniel says.

Eunha hums. “Maybe. But I still plan on going to Seoul. I need to get away from here.”

“I’ll go with you,” Daniel says. He opens his eyes and squints at Eunha’s face. “I’ve been saving up. I’ll go teach English or something. That’ll get us by while you take the music industry by storm.”

Eunha laughs out loud this time. “Aish. What would I do without you?”

“Admit it. You can’t live without me and you know it,” Daniel says. His grin is wide before he pokes a finger into Eunha’s waist. She immediately squeals and thrashes to get away from his tickling.

“S-stop! I already admitted it! I can’t live without you!” Eunha screams through her laughter.

Daniel raises his hands in victory and says, “Good, as long as you know.”

As Mina awakens, she can immediately sense that Uncle Yoongi is no longer in the room with her. She stretches out, enjoying the cozy warmth of the comforter on top of her. This bed is nice. Nicer than anywhere she’s ever slept, she thinks. Maybe her bed when she was a baby in America was nice, but she doesn’t remember America. She only knows what Eomma told her about it.

Thoughts of her eomma make her scrunch her face up. She’s worried, of course. She can’t remember the last time they have been separated for this long. She can’t remember a time she didn’t have her eomma sleeping with her. But, Mina reasons, Eomma is strong and really good with magic, so she’ll be back soon. Thankfully, Uncle Yoongi is here and he’s the nicest person Mina has ever met other than her eomma.

Mina gets out of bed and gets dressed in her lavender dress that is the perfect softness against her skin. She picks up the book from the nightstand and thumbs along the edges of the pages. This story is good. There are dragons and thrilling adventures. And love. Mina loves reading love stories. She imagines what it would be like for her eomma to fall in love. When characters are sad, they fall in love, and then they live happily. Mina wants that so badly for her eomma. She deserves it. This story is also set by the sea. Mina wants to go to the sea. She imagines all sorts of nice things might happen at the sea. She knows it has to be better than the scary grey water.

Mina tiptoes over to the door and listens with her ear pressed against the wood. She hears laughter and the gentle clink of dishes. Uncle Yoongi must be feeding his friends from BTS breakfast. His friends are very loud, but Mina still likes them. She likes them because they are Uncle Yoongi’s friends. She even let Uncle Jimin, Uncle Taehyung, and Uncle Hoseok choose the move last night. Watching with them was fun, but Uncle Yoongi is better at watching movies quietly.

She silently shuffles back to the bed and gets back under the comforter. One more chapter of her book and then she’ll go out for breakfast. She’ll let Uncle Yoongi spend some time with his friends. And maybe Eomma will be home by then.

When she finishes her chapter, Mina quietly slips out of the bedroom and down the hallway. The laughter has died down and now it sounds like a more serious tone has settled on the dining room. She can hear Uncle Yoongi talking, so she slows down, stopping before she rounds the corner.

“So, the vampire was going to kill us, so Eunha used her magic to-,” Yoongi pauses. Mina peeks around the corner to see everyone is sitting around the dining table watching Uncle Yoongi. They look very tense, no smiling faces. He’s talking about vampires, so he must be talking about when they had to get away from their apartment, when he and Eomma saved them.

“Take your time, Yoongi,” Jin murmurs.

“It was self defense,” Yoongi says, more confident this time. “Then they couldn’t stay in that neighborhood, not with vampires after them. So I brought them here. And now I’m scared they found her. The man who called, he was threatening her. He works for someone else, I don’t know. I’m just worried they will have figured out what she did to the vampire. And that now they’ve found her.”

“Who?” Namjoon asks.

“The vampires. I’m scared the vampires have found Eunha,” Yoongi says quietly. “She was so worried they would come after her. They don’t like her kind of magic. But then, when she was on the phone-“

Mina feels a shiver of fear run down her back. Her eomma is out fighting vampires. Uncle Yoongi is worried. She believes in her eomma. She knows she’s strong. She can fight them. How does she tell Uncle Yoongi it’s going to be okay?

She runs out of her hiding place and heads straight to Yoongi. He looks up, surprise written in his features.

“Mina-yah, you’re awake,” he says.

Mina immediately crawls in his lap. She reaches her small arms around his torso and buries her face into his chest. She can feel his arms immediately wrap around her protectively.

“It’s okay, Mina-yah,” he says under his breath.

“I know that,” she fiercely thinks at him. “But do you know that, Uncle Yoongi?”

Yoongi, of course, cannot read minds. Mina thinks that might be his one flaw.

Jin is up and getting a plate of food for Mina. The others look at the girl wrapped in Yoongi’s arms with a mixture of endeared and awed.

Yoongi helps Mina turn around so she can eat the food Jin has put in front of her. She diligently works on eating all the food on her plate while the room is quiet. She glances up and everyone is looking at her. She stops chewing to stare back. Almost as if breaking a spell, everyone realizes at the same time how awkward they are being and they move. Someone coughs, as if clearing their throat. Jin stands again to clear dishes from the table.

“So, what’s happening now?” Jimin asks.

“Minkyu-ssi is gathering information right now. He’s alerted his contacts in the police and the local hospitals are looking out for people matching Eunha’s description,” Yoongi says. Mina can feel the slight tremor in his arm as it reaches around her for his glass of water on the table.

“Okay, well, I moved all your meetings today, so you can stay home,” Namjoon says. “Jimin and I can stay here with you for the day. Okay?”

Yoongi says, “Thank you, Joon-ah.”

“Mina, do you need anything?” Jimin asks, looking at her.

Mina squirms a little as she feels everyone’s attention on her again. This is starting to be too much. She likes it better when it’s just Eomma and Uncle Yoongi, she decides. She quickly glances at everyone, watching her, and then she wriggles a bit, looking back down at her food.

“You’ll tell us if you need anything, right, Mina-yah?” Yoongi murmurs.

Mina gives one quick nod of her head before she goes back to finishing off her food.

Yoongi’s phone buzzes and he grabs it immediately. His brow pulls tightly as he looks at the incoming number. Before anyone can ask who it is, he’s hitting the accept call button. “Hello?”

Mina watches as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, his free hand that’s resting on the table slowly curling into a fist, knuckles going white.

“I’ll be right there,” he says before he ends the call.

“Who was that, hyung?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi is already standing and pocketing his phone. He’s patting his pockets as if checking for their contents. “That Minkyu. Someone matching Eunha’s description is checked into a hospital in Incheon. I need to go. I have to go.”

“Is she okay?” this time it’s Hoseok asking.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi mumbles. He raises his eyes, meeting Mina’s. Mina thinks there’s only ever been one other person she knows that could hold so much sadness in their eyes. And that other person is who Yoongi is scrambling to search out in Incheon.

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly, clearly overwhelmed. He repeats, “I don’t know.”

#thearmyprof #bts ff #bts fanfic #myg #bts fantasy au #fae bts #bts angst

0 notes