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scandeniall · 4 years

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Dear Diary

song 1: dear diary | good & bad masterlist | prev | next

Pairing: sakusa x reader

Summary/warnings: life has been kicking your ass yet you don’t want to tell sakusa/profanity

WC: 1.5K

“How’ve you been,” you paused debating on answering honestly or not. Switching your phone to speaker, you fiddled with the covers resting beneath your fingers before sighing out. “I miss you Yoomi.” A silence comes settled through the phone line. “How are you doing?” The insistence of your well being causes another sigh to escape your lips. Of course he could tell that something was off even through the phone and a part of you curses his observational skills. “Im just--really fucking stressed,” you mutter out reluctantly.

“Have you been taking care of yourself? Eating real meals and getting proper sleep?” The questions being rattled off on the other side of the phone causes you to crack a small smile at his concern. You could only imagine the furrow in his brows at the thought of a lack of concern for your own health. You almost miss the ending of the questions as he tells you not to lie to him. Your silence causes Sakusa to sigh on the line.

“Sometimes I hate how much you really know me.” You voice the thoughts that had previously been in your head. Sakusa could hear the slightest of background noise as you maneuver yourself under the warm comforter and shifted to get comfortable. “Do you need me to come home.” The words aren’t phrased as a question, and that causes you to quickly shake your head despite the fact that he couldn't see that.

“No-no. Yoomi, it's fine. I just- I just need to get my mind right and relax. I just needed to hear your voice tonight, that's all.” You tell him, despite wanting nothing more than for him to be back with you.He’d been on the road for the last month, a series of away games and such. And right before he left, you’d been out of town on a major business trip. It seemed as if time nor luck were your friend. It’d been at least a month and a half since the two of you were anywhere near one another. He’d still be gone another month and all either of you could do was wait it out.

The silence that followed your response was telling. You could already imagine the way Sakusa has his eyes narrowed in thought. Thinking about whether he should push for your well being or let it go for now. The quietest sigh escaped his mouth from the other side of the phone. He’d made his decision. “I miss you too. I’ll be home soon.”

Life after that phone call seemed to grow progressively worse. Not only had you and Sakusa not been able to squeeze in another talk in the following week, but life sucked. Your job has been giving you more and more responsibility, and allowing you more freedom. On one hand that was great, a celebratory text sent to your boyfriend at the talks of you in for a promotion, however it was tiring. You were coming home later and later, exhausted and starting to neglect your own health.

It’s not you were intentional in the neglect. It just felt too damn hard to come home after a long day and cook a healthy and fulfilling meal. When you were home you were suddenly reminded of just how empty the apartment was without Sakusa. Dust that was normally absent due to his cleanliness began to appear. Dishes piled up more than he would have liked. Whenever you did bother to straighten up at least for his sake, it drained you.

Adulthood was really kicking your ass and it came to a head one night when you woke up sweating. As if life couldn’t drag you down even more, your AC had gone out right during the hottest part of the summer. Come morning you found out that your landlord had gone on vacation and could not and would not be able to fix the unit for at least a week.

So you’d done what you usually did. Sucked it up and forced yourself to push through. Not a word of your woes to Sakusa who had more important matters to attend to other than your slump. You went to work, exhausted yourself there and dragged your feet into the dreaded heat of your apartment.

Upon entering you were automatically hit with a wave of heat, making your already sluggish steps heavier. Kicking your shoes off you offhandedly waved hello to the person seated on the couch before dragging yourself towards the kitchen like it was completely normal. A moment later you stopped in your tracks. “Yoomi?”

The slightest nod from your boyfriend caused you to blink in surprise before launching yourself into his arms. “What are you doing here,” you muttered as his hands ran up and down your back. Pulling away slightly you eyed him. He looked tired. Eyes unusually sunken and you noticed the tiniest sheen of sweat across his forehead. You went to pull away knowing the touch paired with the heat would likely make him uncomfortable. To your surprise, the hands wrapped around your middle didn’t make any moves to release you. “You needed me so I came home.”

You felt a squeeze in your heart as your arms tightened wrapped around his shoulders. “But I didn't say anything—“

“Your voice. On the other week. And then your texts were different.” Of course he noticed. The conversation had already signaled to him that you weren’t the best. Your shaky exhales as you insisted that you were fine and that he didn’t need to come home. Then he noticed the jokes within your texts began to slowly subside. You’d also found yourself saying that you missed him more than usual. “So you came back?”

“I have a 3 day weekend this week. Then I’m back to practicing.” You nodded in understanding the two of you releasing one another and you noticed Sakusa frown. “Why’s it hot?” You explained about the broken AC and about the suffering you’ve endured for the past 2 days. “Did you get any more fans?” He looked annoyed once you denied purchasing any additional appliances knowing he’d had to get that done for you. “You know you’re more susceptible to nosebleeds in the heat right?”

“Thank you Dr. Omi,” you teased, laughing at his scowl from the nickname. The two of you settled onto the couch, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s common knowledge.” His replies allow a lightness to settle in your heart. One you hadn’t felt in weeks. The two of you settle into a silence for a little while his hand rubbing soft circles on your knee. “You need to take better care of yourself. And tell me when you need me.”

“I didn't want to take you away from your busy schedule,” you hum out. You feel the movement against your knee stop, a former grip replacing it. “I don't care how busy I am, I’m here. Now stop being annoying and tell me things.” You feel yourself jokingly roll your eyes before agreeing. However that wasn’t enough as you heard the scoff from next to you.

“I’m serious. You remember what you told me back in college”

“Pretty sure I told you a lot of things back then,” you tease, taking his closest hand and interlocking your fingers. “You believed in me,” he started catching your eyes. “Told me you always knew there was no limit to me. That means I can handle it. Don’t feel like you’re annoying me.” Your eyes widened at how he remembered that very specific moment.

It was around 4 years ago. He’d just told you that he signed to MSBY, something everyone around him was dying to know. Yet you were the first person he told. He remembered how your eyes beamed as you sat on his lap, your phone camera in his face recording the moment for memories sake. He didn’t even bother swatting it away like he usually did. He’d allowed you to place messy kisses all across his face despite the feel of your tacky chapstick. “Why do you remember that,” you questioned a soft smile gracing your own features.

You notice the shrug of his shoulders as he helped to to sit you sideways into his lap. “Doesn’t matter. Now tell me what’s wrong. And then we’re going to get some fans.” You nodded leaning so that your lips met his for a soft kiss. “I really missed you,” you murmured into the kiss. And while he was only there for the weekend it was enough. He came home for you. The one who has loved and supported him with open arms for the past 5 years. He’d be damned if he didn’t try to make up for it.

So you told him everything on your mind. Laughing every time he scolded you for the little things. “Don’t let the dust build up by the time I get back next month.” To “You need to sleep more.” And in return you got the same. You got the story from the exhaustion laced in his eyes. The hours it took to get to you, and the germs he forced himself to sit through to make it happen. And despite the annoying heat in the apartment, neither of you have felt that good in a while.

a/n: wow i FINALLY got at least 2 consective songs in a row done so now my prev/next is relevant for at least 2 parts. This took a different route than I initially planned for, nor is it exact in its storytelling. It was also started 2 months ago and finished now bc it was kinda hard for me. Anyways hi um did you catch the no limit to you ref? bc yeah i love that and to date still my fav piece ive ever written. you dont have to read that to understand this but its 5.4k words if you have some spare time.

anyways: im about to be on an 8hr car ride so feel free to request stuff. rules

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #hq imagine #hq imagines #sakusa imagines

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ageofevermore · 4 years

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Golden Memories Chapter 5 - VAULT

Summery: Sofia Hale thought her entire family burned to death in a fire, but when she’s pulled back to Beacon Hills after ten years of being away, she learns the truth. Her brother isn’t dead, her uncle killed her oldest sister, and her childhood best friend was mauled by her secret cousin.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: none

season masterlist | series masterlist

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— DEREK and Sofia Hale were anything but ready to accept the new day that dawned upon them, casting a shadow over the night of bonding they had created. Murders and Brett still clouded their minds, but for the benefit of both of their mental states, they caught up with one another.

Derek hadn't gotten into a steady relationship since Paige, and Sofia had still yet to have one.

It was simple things that wouldn't have mattered to average siblings. It was common knowledge, and yet to them it was breathtaking. Stories of the world had been shared, though besides California and South Carolina, Sofia hadn't seen much besides a plane window.

Derek had promised that one day he'd show her Mexico, but before they could plan the excursion Sofia had fallen asleep on his bed — just like when they were kids.

The next morning, Sofia had woken up to Derek signing admissions paperwork, and a horribly wrapped notebook filled with supernatural lore.

"Sometimes the shape you take represents who you are." Derek reminded Sofia, who was beginning to overwork herself as she drowned in the documented folktales. "Don't give me that look." His soft reply had Sofia cracking a smile, going back to her reading despite the headache beginning to manifest.

It hadn't been ten minutes before the girl looked up again, her brows drawn tightly in genuine wonder, "Do you think I could be a Banshee?"

"Read the rest of it, Sof." Derek sighed gently, looking up from his own paperwork to match her intense stare. "You're something, alright? But forcing yourself into a category isn't going to help."

Sofia huffed, "I've been something for fifteen years, Derek. You, Cora and Laura knew from the moment you could begin to understand it all. Why am I different? It's not like I was bitten, I was born, same as you!"

"You're not different, you're special."

Sofia all but growled at her brother, eyes burning a hole in his head as she glared and slammed the book shut. She was no longer in the mood to look for answers, just wanting a title that she could identify with.

No, Sofia didn't just want a title, she wanted to be a werewolf. She wanted to have the same experiences as her family, the ones who had died and the ones who still lived.

She wanted to heal, and shift, and feel the moon against her skin.

She wanted something she could never have.

———

— SOFIA sat uncomfortably beside her brother. The hospitals provided chairs were only comfortable for so long, and she had definitely overstayed her welcome as she shifted for the fifth time that hour. She refused each and every time Derek offered to drive her back to the loft, a sense of panic washing over her at the thought of leaving him alone — or rather being on her own.

Derek looked over at Sofia when she shifted for the sixth time, "What's wrong?"

Sofia pulled her knees up to her chest, just shaking her head at her brothers question. She gaze was locked on Braeden, a sickly feeling bubbling just beneath the surface of her skin.

"Sof, if something's wrong you need to tell me." Derek pulled the plastic chair closer to him, hands resting on the arms when Sofia attempted to scramble away.

The girl under question sighed, shrinking into herself as her fingers became more interesting then her brothers hard gaze. "I think — I think I can feel them."

Derek was perplexed as he looked over Sofia's unchanging features. Her pale eyes were shiny as tears welled up, her hands shaking as she counted each one of her fingertips an unsettling amount of times. She was breaking herself down, trying to find the one thing that had been hidden for years.

"You have to stop pushing, Sofi. Just let it happen." Derek pleaded, lifting his sisters chin when her lip began to tremble for the second time that day.

"That's easy for you to say when you know what's going to happen every full moon." Sofia sniffled, wiping at her eyes when her vision became impaired, and Derek's eyes were suddenly just orbs of color.

Neither party had a chance to say anything else. The door swung open, and quickly a nurse in purple scrubs was administering a liquid through the unconscious girls IV.

"What's that?" Derek pondered, and Sofia frowned, worriedly watching her brother step closer to the purple clad nurse.

"Naloxone." She exclaimed, "We need to wake her up."

Derek sighed, clearly wishing he was more up to speed on the situation, "I thought you said she needed to rest."

"That was before I found out the CDC just put the high school under quarantine with Scott and Stiles still in there." She exclaimed with a look only a mother could bear. "Braeden, look at me. You were shot, but you're in the hospital now and you're fine. Do you understand? Good. Okay. Last night you were in the woods and you came across another pack? Do you know what happened to them?"

"I told you, they were poisoned." Derek spoke softly.

"No. No, they were infected." Braeden spluttered, still on the cusp of unconsciousness, "It was a virus designed to kill werewolves. It did. It killed them all."

Derek suffered in a thick silence for seconds that felt ever lasting before he snapped his gaze towards Sofia, "Go." His eyes filled with imminent dread, green turning a shade of grey. "Go to the school, Sof."

"How do you know it won't affect me?" She protested, continuing to hold her fetal-like position as she gaped up at Derek. He wasn't seriously thinking about sending her into a war zone, was he? "What if it kills me?"

That was the burning question of the hour. Sofia Hale wasn't scared of death, she'd grown up with a bullseye, but she couldn't die before she knew what she was.

She was so close.

"You mean what if you never get to know." Derek insisted, watching as Sofia's face heated and her clenched brows dropped. Her fingers became shaky in her lap, her eyes avoiding Derek's. "Sofia—"

"It's fine." She shook her head, standing from the chair where her body had been curled for hours. If her brother was so sure she wouldn't die, so be it, she wouldn't be the one left alone with guilt and grief if he was wrong. "Give me the keys."

Derek fished around in his pocket, not knowing what to say. It had been years since he'd experienced this, and he didn't miss the heavy weight it left on his heart. He wondered why girls were so complicated, how a single sentence could hold so much animosity.

Handing the keys over to Sofia when he found them, the girl didn't let her hand graze his. She wouldn't even let her eyes dance across his face in fear of her facade cracking.

She had left the room before he had the change to speak again, and a heavy guilt splayed across his chest. He hoped she would be okay — he couldn't attend another funeral.

———

— SOFIA walked up to the scene with nothing but dread on her features, hands trembling at her sides as she battled with an ever growing crowd. She wasn't sure who she needed to be looking for, but she figured the Sheriff was a good place to start.

"Excuse me." She pleaded, shoving past an overly enthused bystander. News of the outbreak hadn't spread around town, but there was clearly a field of worrisome parents and guardians already partially informed.

When the beige suit came into vision, Sofia battled against elbows and shoulder blades, "Sheriff?"

His head snapped around to the soft questioning voice, his eyes turning stone as if to block out the true nature of his worry. Sofia frowned in understanding, but she had no time to comaderate.

"I don't — I need to get in there." She pleaded, only watching as the Sheriff grew to be even more on edge. Clearly he knew something — something he really didn't want to know. "I'm Sofia Hale."

"Let her through!" The Sheriff's hard voice broke through the sea of chaos, and immediately a hand was being placed upon Sofia's bicep and leading her towards the armed officer. "Does anyone in your family know how to stay dead?" She was sure she wasn't meant to hear that, but she did, and her gut clenched in grief.

"My parents." She insisted, and she watched the Sheriff's face pale instantly. His eyes became regretful, and slowly he let his façade drop.

"What do you need, kid?" He pondered, wondering just what Sofia was capable of doing. Scott, Kira, and Malia were inside, and the only thing he was met with from the supernatural trio was radio silence.

"I just need to get in there." She elaborated quickly, her eyes dancing along the blue steel of the doors. Her family had a vault just past the northern corridor, she was sure something in there could help at least the non-supernatural kids. "It won't affect me."

Against his better judgement, his hand found the small of Sofia's back and he began to lead her towards the building. His touch was light, but one all to familiar to her fathers. The man was often closed off, but his love was never questionable.

"She can't go in there." A female voice explained, muffled by the thick plastic of her yellow protectant suit. It was something out of a cartoon, but Sofia felt now would be the wrong time to address that.

"I don't think you want me out here." Sofia bared her forearm for all to see, red welts beginning to bubble on the surface of her milky skin.

She was overcome with panic, but forced her features to remain unbothered. It all came back to the same uncertainty she felt in the hospital while looking over Braeden — she could feel them.

———

—— SHE rushed down the hallway, stomach churning as she scratched at the rash climbing up her skin. Red welts we're collecting at the nap of her neck as well, beads of sweat clinging to her brow, and yet she had a growing suspicion that the suffering wasn't her own.

Finally finding the secluded corner of the northwest corridor, Sofia exhaled harshly. She had gotten lost more than she would've liked to admit, though it wasn't entirely her fault. She had never gone to Beacon Hills High School, and the vault wasn't exactly a causal hang out spot when she was younger.

She twisted at the lock, grunting when the rough edges of stone broke the skin of her fingertips. Had she been a werewolf, her claws would have made that so much easier.

Sofia felt as if she was going a mile a minute, anxiously looking between the moving wall and the area around her. She felt exposed, like with every move she was being watched — she had felt so vulnerable since first setting foot in Beacon all those weeks ago.

A searing pain shot through her head the moment the stone door opened, and she let out a bellowing cry. The ache was dull, almost like a vivid memory, and yet it was no pain she'd ever experienced. Somebody else was hurt, and she was living through their suffering.

"Sofia?"

That was Malia.

It was undoubtedly Malia's voice, only making her heart hammer in question. She was sure her mother had mentioned the vault only opening for their bloodline. She whipped around, seeing Malia sprawled out on the ground, laying against the chest of a familiar teenage boy.

"Mal?" Sofia chocked, suddenly feeling like she cold breath in the wooden space. She pulled her arm up, growing sick at the sight of her rash slowly fading as if it hadn't been their in the first place.

"Sofia Hale?" Her eye's fell upon a brunette boy, his tanned skin soft beneath the yellow lighting of the vault.

Her heart was hammering, feeling trapped within a space meant to protect her. Clenching her fists, Sofia made no move to approach the gaggle of teenagers.

"You're Derek's sister." A girl — also brunette — smiled from beside the tanned boy. Sofia wished she could put names to the faces, but Derek hadn't briefed her on the specifics.

Sofia just looked towards Malia, ignoring the two teenagers to the left of her body. She couldn't bare anything new right now, she was already startled enough at how Malia and her friends managed to get inside the vault.

Before she could question the coyote, it was as if something snapped within her, and her soft puppy brown eyes that had previously been filled with exhaustion closed, and in a heap of exhaustion she fell limp against the familiar boys chest.

"Did Derek send you?" The tanned boy asked, watching carefully as Sofia looked around the vault, her eyes glazing over at the faint memories of a different lifetime.

She cleared her throat, looking towards the boy with a soft smile, not wanting to come off as overly hostile. She nodded her head at his question, feeling her heart hammering in her chest.

"And you are?" She pondered, egging on a conversation when he trailed off, not sure where to go next.

"Derek didn't tell you?" He looked surprised, glancing between her and the boy holding Malia as if he was apprehensive to continue on.

"Derek doesn't tell me anything unless it's life or death." Sofia elaborated, her lip between her teeth as she felt her stomach coil once more in a full throb of agony.

Her eyes caught Malia's frame, watching as she quivered against the teenagers chest for a moment before relaxing.

"Did you know her? Before?" The girl asked, her kind eyes soft as she looked Sofia over. She didn't want to overstep, but her curiosity was pressing.

"I was friends with her sister, Kylie." The memories were harsh against her pre-existing pain, but this time it was all her own. No alien source was stirring up trouble — it was her own deep seeded childhood trauma.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to open old wounds. I'm Kira." The girl — Kira — apologized, smiling awkwardly when guilt weighed down on her chest. "This is Scott."

Sofia nodded, figuring she could remember the names easily enough without having to repeat them back. Her eyes were still falling between the shelves, stories of the relics like a voice within her head as memories played back.

A smile ghosted upon her lips, unconsciously twisting her broody features into ones of golden innocence — a firefly within her eyes.

"What is that?" Kira questioner warily, eyes of burnt charcoal following Sofia's every move.

Sofia twisted the dial on the back of a cracked and dusty box, the soft hum of a nursery rhyme bringing back age old memories, "It's a music box."

"Sofia?" Scott called. It was the echoing cry of an omega facing murder, pleading for any surrounding back to claim him — even if it was only for a moment.

His worry sent a chill down Sofia's spine.

"Yeah?" She set the jewelry box down, turning to face the teenage alpha.

"Didn't you have the same rash earlier?"

Sofia bit down on her lip, trying to find words for a situation she didn't even understand, "It wasn't mine."

"How could it not be yours?" The boy holding Malia grew testy, judgement clouded eyes following Sofia.

"I — I think it was Malia's. It wasn't mine, I think I can feel her."

#teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #allison argent #derek hale #peter hale #sofia hale #golden memories #malia hale #kira yukimura #liam dunbar #derek hale x sister reader #sister!reader

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seoulnotes · 4 years

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Luce in altis | v. The Crown That Controls Its King

S Y N O P S I S | Passed down from centuries worth of history, the remnants of a hatred between two kings reside in a small village that serves as a border between their two feuding kingdoms. y/n lives in that village and must seek aid from one of the kings. Her trust is tested when she learns of the king that is truly wicked.

C H A R A C T E R S | Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, reader (y/n) ; (mentions of other members)

G E N R E | fantasy, romance, drama — royalty au

W A R N I N G S (chapter specific) | none

W O R D C O U N T | 5k

All parts here

⇠ prev. (iv) | next (vi) ⇢

“No, Yoongi, please don’t lay a finger on my beloved y/n. She is to be my betrothed after all,” and he said that with the wicked smile he trained himself to hold so well. “Now loosen that terrible grip you have on her. Don’t want anything to get bruised, right?”

My heart dropped and the room fell into silence—worse than the one that had been when Taehyung first walked into the throne room this morning.

Even Yoongi was left speechless, his eyes were wide with shock, his hand dropping from my arm immediately.

It took him a moment to process his king’s declaration. “Your Majesty, with all due respect—.”

“It’s final. Besides, it might be a little fun to have a human with magic around here.”

“You’ll be weakened. The people will protest. Your power—,” Yoongi tried to rebut.

“Are you questioning your king?” Taehyung’s voice dripped with venom, testing Yoongi to see how far he’d go. He cocked his head to the side with a sarcastic smile rising to his lips. “Besides, weaken what? You already have done some of that,” he added, a slight bitterness laced in his tone.

Yoongi only bowed accepting the declaration.

“Her powers might come in handy for an heir,” Taehyung chuckled. “It’s rare to see someone with the powers to stop another’s. I believe we covet those in our army. The Protectors.” He casually glanced at me, playing his wicked part before standing up from the throne and stalking towards me. He offered me a hand. “Now, come with me, darling.”

I reluctantly raised my hand and placed it into his. They were warm, reminding me that behind this facade he was putting up, he was the Taehyung I had met before this chaos. I hoped.

—

He led me down a series of corridors, various servants freezing with frightened faces and immediately bowing the entire way. His hand never let go of mine. At the end of the fourth turn, we arrived at a hallway with one singular double-door. The grandest of all doors in this palace aside from the throne room; it must have been the king’s suite.

The door itself held carving in the black wood, intricate and dare I say, even beautiful at first glance.

Taehyung pushed open the doors, letting me enter. My eyes roamed the entire suite. A king-sized bed in the middle of the room, adorned with similar silk-like sheets with a similar bed frame to the throne in the throne room. Each post of the bed frame had its own version of intricate carvings into the wood. I was in awe at the luxury this room had.

As I heard the door being shut behind me, I turned to meet Taehyung.

“You can take a seat on the bed if you’d like,” his tone was not harsh like the throne room, but still cold. He released my hand and sat in the chair behind the grand desk.

I was wrong; this man was not Taehyung either.

I strolled towards the bed, sitting on the edge, cautiously. I did not know what my next move would be; I never expected this. Who was this man in the same room as me?

“Why have you come to my kingdom?” His voice stiff like a wall and indifferent. I was not able to detect any emotion behind it. He picked up a stack of papers and began to read; his eyes not meeting mine. Another sign of indifference.

The anger I felt last night melted away. Like his ice-cold presence and attitude froze it. This was not the Taehyung I knew. Had I dreamt of him helping me last night? I swore he was kinder last night.

The side of me that was ready to ask him why he had lied, why he was being like this was gone; hiding in fear. It was the same feeling as if you asked someone a question for it to be a response of coldness like they didn’t care.

I did not know how to describe him at this moment. It was like the cruel version of the act of king dissipated once we reached this room, but he had placed a wall between us, completely separating any connection we had prior.

“You did not answer,” his eyes glanced up from the paper he had been reading to meet mine in a questioning stare before returning back to the paper.

I shook my head haven’t realized I had let myself wander too deep into my thoughts. I was suddenly wary about mentioning my situation and why I wandered so far to find him.

It was like being in the middle of a frozen pond and the ice was thin. Then trying to walk back to the safe land.

“Um,” I did not realize I had an ounce of fear from this man until I was scared to speak. A week ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to ask for his help. Now, I found it hard to muster up the courage to continue and it was gone when his eyes caught mine again, expecting.

I saw a flicker of something change in his eyes, some light, but then I was shut out again and my hand ran down the side of my thigh before I forced myself to speak.

“Something’s happened in my village. Someone came with an army. They’ve taken my entire village. They’ve taken my family.” My fear was gone when I came to the realization of what had happened. It felt like I was choking out the last few words. I’ve thought about these things my entire way here. They’ve been in my mind, but to tell someone else was a different story, to speak these words was a different story.

I felt a sinking feeling in my heart because now, the fear has finally settled within. I was scared for my family and I was alone in this fear. It was like the fear I felt the first time my mother had sent me to go to the market as a young girl to buy something except now it was tenfold that fear.

Because I was truly alone.

A few tears fell involuntarily and I had not noticed until they fell onto my hand. I quickly raised my hand to wipe my cheek. My eyes scanned Taehyung’s face for a reaction, any reaction. I might have sounded naive to ask for such a thing. Anything, I just wanted something that wasn’t the stillness of his lips or the emptiness behind his eyes. At this point, I was beginning to regret my decision to come; moreover, I was beginning to feel shame in my decision to trust him so easily, to have given into this false hope.

“I do not know of the matter if that is why you’re here,” there it was. Like a slamming of the door in my face. As if asking me why the hell did I even come here?

And it felt like what I had dreaded the most was here. Like any ounce of hope I had previous to this moment was gone. A glass cup that was once brimming with my hope and faith in Taehyung slipped from where I was holding it and shattered; my hope completely drained on the cold tiles below me.

“I came to ask you for help,” I still prayed there was some bit of the Taehyung I knew in this stranger. I couldn’t let go of this easily. No. Please; where else do I have to go?

Silence. He did not answer me, only continued grazing through the stack of papers.

This time, I felt and I finally found my voice to ask him.

“Who are you?” My voice was quiet, small and it was painful the feeling lump that formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. I knew if I let the tears that pricked my eyes form large enough to fall; I’d break before him and now was not the time to give in. He was not allowed to treat me with such indifference and get my reaction.

“What do you mean?” No reaction showed in his face, still indifferent. The paper in his hand was moved to a pile and he continued to read. Each flick of a page became increasingly louder to me because otherwise there was a disappointing silence.

Flick, another page.

“Are you the Taehyung I met from the Winter Solstice?” I felt confidence rise in my tone just a bit, enough for me to finish the conversation I had started.

Taehyung finally looked up from the papers, a stoic look on his face. His lips were a tight line, eyes just holding my gaze.

I could not read whatever was burning behind his eyes and it left me dumbfounded. What kind of game was he playing exactly?

“You had met the Kim Taehyung without a king’s crown at your Winter Solstice festival,” he began as he rose slowly from his seat, eyes never leaving mine.

I felt myself begin to shrink away as he strolled towards me. My hands laid on the sheets behind me and I felt my body begin to move back just an inch.

“Once you have crossed into this kingdom of mine, the only Kim Taehyung you will know is the one with the crown,” his tone showed no sign of emotion, only stillness and control.

There was no hope now that I was in the presence of the same Taehyung from the Winter Solstice. This stoic face was not that of Taehyung’s warm smile from the festival. The coldness emitting from him was not that of the warm hands that often clasped onto mine. He was proving that man was gone here.

He was now towering above me, eyes looking down onto me. Without warning, his hand wrapped around my forearm and I felt a burning sensation where his hand was. I didn’t attempt to pull away, only keeping my stare on his hand.

For the first time since I had met him, I was scared of Kim Taehyung. I did not know who was standing before me and I clearly did not know beforehand, having fallen into his trap of kind words and fake smiles a week ago.

When he finally released my forearm, there, laying in its wake, was a black outline of a crescent moon etched into my skin. I slowly raised a finger and let it graze over the marking.

“Now you are truly my betrothed,” he spoke quietly under his breath.

Before I had time to register what he had done, a knock came from the door.

“Who is it?” Taehyung stood, straightening his tunic. He approached the door, preparing for a friend or foe awaiting on the other side of the door. Almost immediately, I saw his mask, the stillness in his features, stern and authoritative.

It had dropped around my presence, but he still kept his distance from me.

“Your majesty, it is I,” a faint voice. Immediately, I noticed the softness that wasn’t heard from people of Erebus.

The mask of a King fell from his face. “Come in.”

I returned my stare to my forearm, yet still, I wondered who had this person been that Taehyung did not have to wear that mask around.

The man who appeared in front of the door moments later in a cloud of black. He was a young man. He did not have those eyes with hidden dark intentions behind them. They were a warm brown and when the young man offered a polite smile, I noticed the genuineness behind them.

He did not kneel for his king. Instead, he simply bowed in his presence. I didn’t fail to notice the slight crack of a smile Taehyung had on his lips from the young man.

“Apologies for my lateness. I was handling matters at J-,” he was cut off by Taehyung.

“It is fine Jungkook,” the faint smile still on his lips as he placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and guided a hand in my direction. “I called you here to determine what magic she possesses. In the throne room, she displayed the powers of a Protector, but I’m curious if there are any others.”

Taehyung moved to sit in a chaise lounge nearby, allowing Jungkook to approach the bed.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he greeted with the same genuine smile.

Perhaps it was the lack of emotion from Taehyung or the lack of kindness felt from anyone I had met in this kingdom thus far, but I felt a mutual trust from the simple greeting.

“I hope you don’t mind if I grab your hand for a quick minute,” he sat at the edge of the bed and reached his hand towards me. He was waiting for me to give him permission.

Taehyung still watched from the lounge. Under his watchful eye, any permission I gave didn’t hold any worth. I didn’t have a choice anyway.

I placed my hand on top of his, allowing his to clasp around mine gently and place his other hand on top mine. They were warm and gentle.

I noticed his eyes widening slightly before he returned them to their casual state and released my hand. Taehyung didn’t fail to notice the change in his expression and sat up quickly.

I, myself, fell into confusion. What was wrong?

I pulled my hand back to my side and glanced at Jungkook.

Taehyung stood and disappeared in a whirlwind of black. Jungkook, a second later, followed in suit.

—

I had waited. I had probably waited for nearly hours. Neither had returned, yet, servants were at the door with a meal. Instructed by Taehyung to take care of me in his absence.

For an hour, I paced, I sat, I stood wondering what the hell had happened when Jungkook took my hand. What was Taehyung’s intention in bringing Jungkook?

Slowly, my mind drifted to thoughts containing Taehyung. I had not yet come to terms that Taehyung was not the same person. I was not sure if I could hold onto the fleeting memory of who I met previously with the man who was king. It had not even been a week since he left my village, leaving my freedom with me, and yet, this version he presented himself as in his kingdom was cold, distant, as if he didn’t even associate the fact that he had spent a week betting on whether or not I’d marry him.

I wanted to cry and I wanted to spit hateful words towards him. If I could make him feel anger, I would curse him a thousand times; anything but the nothingness emotions he had been pushing towards me since I arrived.

A knock sounded from the door. As if any betrayal and confusion I had melted away, I stood from my seat quickly with hope it was Taehyung who was behind the door before quickly raising the back of my hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen out of frustration and the slight feeling of betrayal.

The door creaked open slightly and a girl slid in. Her hands clasped in front of her as she bowed. It wasn’t the kneel everyone greeted Taehyung with the moment they knew of his presence. It was a simple bow but still presented her status as lower than mine. I couldn’t fathom why she had done that, but before I could react, she glanced at the tray sitting upon the coffee table and spoke.

“Miss, you haven’t touched your dinner,” her tone was quiet and submissive.

“I don’t have any appetite to eat, really,” I felt myself imitating her tone. I didn’t know how I was supposed to act. I wasn’t of royal blood and I surely was not noble or anyone of power, but she was speaking to me as if I was.

“It seems to be cold, I can prepare something hot for you if you’d like,” her eyes finally met mine and she presented a kind smile on her lips. I had not seen a servant with such kindness in words or emotions yet. Something was strange about the people I had met today.

“Or I can take this tray away since you don’t feel like eating,” she suggested.

“If you can,” I mustered a slight smile.

She received my message and took the tray from the table. “I will be back in an hour to see if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask any servant in the meantime,” with that, she disappeared in a whirlwind of black.

I found myself asking for a simple mug of hot tea when she came back. My appetite still didn’t want to come back and I feared it was due to the anxiety I felt for when Taehyung might come back.

“Chamomile,” she handed the mug to me gently. “You will need the rest. Also, there is clothes for you to change into, should you need it,” she pointed to a pile of folded clothes on the bed.

Even though it was possible that the genuineness was not real, I fell for it. I was greedy and wanted it to be real; for someone to show real emotion towards me. I was also foolishly greedy for allowing myself to settle onto the Taehyung’s bed without a second thought and not wanting to face the thoughts of possible danger that could come with it.

I thanked her and had not realized before she left to ask for her name. I would want to remember it. I drank the entire mug without a second thought keeping in mind, I will need the rest. I will need the rest for my family and for whatever this kingdom will greet me with tomorrow.

As my eyes began to feel the weight of tiredness pull my eyelids down, I reminded myself that I will have to ask her for her name when I saw her next; a possible ally.

—

I woke up to the smell of breakfast and I opened my eyes to the ceiling of my room. Not Taehyung’s gold-trimmed bedroom ceiling, but my plain white cracked ceiling.

“Breakfast!” A male’s voice, my brother’s voice.

I stepped cautiously from my bed. Had I dreamt the dark kingdom? Had I missed Taehyung that much?

After a few moments of nothing changing, I ran from my room and into the main room. My mother, father, and Namjoon had begun breakfast. I took a seat beside my mother and felt my mouth water at the plate in front of me. Then my brows furrowed.

“We never have meat for breakfast. Mother, we can’t afford to,” why was she wasting meat on a meal like breakfast?

“We have extra,” she replied.

I felt myself pause. We never had extra for meals outside of dinner.

I met eyes with my father. “Wake up, y/n.”

“Save us, y/n,” Namjoon’s eyes locked to mine.

“y/n, please,” my mother followed, eyes beginning to shine with tears.

—

My body was soaked in sweat when I awoke and I realized the blanket I had been sleeping on the previous night was covering me. When I glanced at the large window beside the bed, I realized dawn was breaking and the dark sky was beginning to lighten, although the sun had yet to peek over the horizon.

What had seemed like a nightmare that only spanned fifteen minutes seemed to have taken the time span of an entire night of sleep.

Then I realized why that had come in the form of a nightmare. I was losing sight of my original reason to come here and was being sidetracked.

My family is why I came here.

I sat up slowly, cautiously, a reminder that I was still in the Dark Kingdom regardless of the comfortable bed I slept in and the meals I was served. No one was my friend here. And it seemed not even Taehyung, who I thought was, was not either.

“You’re awake.”

Speaking of the devil.

“You’re awake as well,” I countered. I took notice of the glowing light sitting on his desk and a new stack of papers. Was he always this busy with his kingdom’s affairs? Even in the early mornings?

I shook my mind off the topic. “Why did you disappear yesterday?”

He ignored my question. “Has your powers returned since the last time you used them?”

I didn’t answer because, quite frankly, I began to feel irritated and it was most likely the combination of the difference in Taehyung’s attitude towards me in addition to his unresponsiveness to my question.

I remained silent and when Taehyung raised his head, his eyes held mine. Once again, I had noticed that darkness in his eyes that led me only to more mysteries I did not know the answer to.

I gave in and answered his question. It was the look in his eyes, the way such power was brewed in them. His stare could make an enemy bow before him if they looked long enough.

“No,” I responded, pulling the sheets off of me and crossing my legs. I do not want them to. “No, they have not returned since the throne room.”

Then to my surprise, Taehyung responded to my question. “I left to discuss your powers with Jungkook. He’s considered a Healer, the power to mend one’s powers as well as diagnose one’s powers. I brought him here to see what other powers you could possess.”

Taehyung stopped there. He didn’t explain what he saw to be discussed away from me.

After his disappearance, I concluded Jungkook must have seen something that sought no benefits. I wondered if I should be asking what Jungkook had seen if it pertained to me.

I decided against it.

“Do not tell anyone what magic you possess if you wish to survive here.”

I did not know if it was meant to protect me when he had spoken with such a dark tone. The message behind the warning was one of kindness, yet it was hard to tell with the bitter tone that trapped the words towards the end.

“I don’t want them anyway,” I spoke quietly.

Silence passed for many hours. Taehyung continued his work and I found myself being dressed and bathed by the women who took care of me initially for the rest. This time, they had dressed me in something ten folds more elegant than the original gown I had worn yesterday making me wonder what plans Taehyung had in place for today.

I was placed in front of a floor-length mirror as the servant worked on buttoning the back. My eyes scanned over the dress. Once again the top favored intricate black lace while the bottom remained a solid black. I almost argued against the choice of clothing when I noticed the dangerously high slit on one side of my leg.

This time, the dress was a capped sleeve, the moon outline on my forearm displayed for all to see mocking me.

The servant guided me to a chair and began to work on my hair for which it was decided by Taehyung who had approached the case of hair accessories and chosen a small tiara.

“We will announce your betrothal today,” he commented as his finger looped under the metal headpiece. The lining of diamonds glimmered against the rising sun as he picked it up to inspect it.

“Make sure it can be noticed,” he handed the crown to the servant.

I opened my mouth to protest but shut it right after to process what he had stated.

“Why are you doing this?”

“If you want to survive to see your family outside of my kingdom, you will do everything I tell you to do.” He was standing by the large window, observing the world behind the other side, hands clasped behind his back. This did not allow me to see what emotions could be written on his face as he, for the first time, showed an ounce of empathy towards me.

“You can not tell anyone of your magic unless I mention it prior to that person or people. It may be best to not speak to anyone if I am not beside you; you don’t know what my people are capable of twisting your words into,” he finally turned from the window. His eyes met mine with a question of agreement.

I nodded lightly, understanding that I must follow what he said to survive. Although, confusion still flowed through my thoughts. Was I hearing a hint of tenderness laced in his words or did I just sought it so much that I was beginning to hear things that weren’t there?

He strolled from the window towards me. I was beginning to hate the slight rising in the discomfort I felt when he towered over me like this.

“Lastly, you are now a kingdom born,” he glanced at my forearm, at the moon, hands tensing at his side for a second. “And you are my betrothed, the future queen of this kingdom,” he added on as if the crown that adorned my hair was not a glaring message itself.

I, too, had caught my eyes on the shining gems adorning the crown.

“Are you capable of following everything that I’ve just told you?” It was a question, but from his lips, the tone was more of a statement; reminding me that I needed to follow what he said regardless.

“Yes,” I replied simply, no emotion punctured my voice. I was simply agreeing; in the back of my mind, I was convinced Taehyung was doing all of this to ensure my life for the time being. In the back of my mind, I was not ready to give up on the Taehyung I met previously and believed a small piece of him remained behind to keep me safe.

—

“Just follow me in,” Taehyung turned his head to the side, giving me a side glance. “Do not show emotion.” One last rule.

As if on queue, silence stilled the air as the towering doors to the throne room creaked open and inside along the center aisle, there, his people kneeled.

Beside the grand throne was another chair, not as elegant, but still sent a message. It was not as heightened as the throne although a partner to the throne with the same design. It was built for a king’s second ruler, his queen.

Yoongi was beside the throne in his usual position, kneeling.

Taehyung, with his shoulders stiff and head held high, walked with utmost nonchalant to his throne. Although he walked casually, every footstep of his echoed throughout the room.

I felt eyes rising from the floor as I trailed behind him. I tried my best to straighten my back as much and keep my head held high, not allowing the wandering eyes chip my facade in any way. I allowed my face to still.

He turned when he reached the first of three steps to where the throne sat and extended his hand to me which I took.

When he turned, I already felt chills run down my spine for he was wearing his infamous wicked smile. “My darling,” he guided me to my seat before placing a gentle kiss on the back of my hand and releasing it.

Taehyung settled onto his throne, a finger on his chin—a tease to his subjects gathered. “You may rise,” his tone was amused.

“As you may have noticed the seat beside my own today,” he began. “The woman beside me is y/n, who you will address as your queen in a month’s time. For the time being, she is my betrothed and you will address her as her highness.”

No one dared to hum a single sound although it was clear that his news stilled everyone more than his presence had caused prior. It was evident shock was that only emotion behind his subjects’ eyes for they kept their stares towards me.

“I have invited my Court and you all to celebrate such a wonderful event,” Taehyung added. He held his hand out and a glass of wine appeared in his extended hand as he lifted it towards the crowd. “Enjoy yourselves,” a smirk on his lips and a brow raised, another mechanism he used to test emotions.

“Yes, thank you for your graciousness, Your Majesty,” in unison, they bowed. The entrance doors opened and servants carried a long table. Atop the table was glasses of wine and champagne along with magnificent platters of food. More servants entered with their own platters and trays of foods and drinks.

Just like food and drink were a spell, the shock washed away and they began to dine and party. The music played was unlike what I had heard, almost a sinful rendition of music. There was no excitement in its rhythm or tune that made me want to dance.

“Your Majesty, a letter has arrived from Hemera,” Yoongi approached the throne.

Taehyung barely nodded, giving Yoongi acknowledgment.

“I will meet with you in the cabinet room,” he responded, taking a drink from his glass.

Yoongi bowed and disappeared with a whirlwind of black.

The wine glass disappeared from Taehyung’s hand as he stood. “Come with me,” he turned with his extended hand towards me.

My surroundings turned to dark and in a split second, I was in a room with bookcases lining the walls and a grand table in the center of the room. I was met with a second of nausea, reminding me of when Taehyung attempted to show me his way of traveling at my village.

Yoongi was already here, a scroll stretched out before him to which he folded quickly as he bowed.

“What is it?” Annoyance filled Taehyung’s voice.

“The king of Hemera has sent a message that he will be arriving for a visit in the coming weeks. He is currently en route to the capital and will be here in three weeks’ time.”

a/n

oop, we sussing out taehyung here... but whats his deal?

SURPRISE SURPRISE

sorry for the super big gap, but FINALLY and i mean finally, things have settled down and i will have more downtime to work on this :)

yours truly, Selene ♡

feedback <3

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

Text

intermission • iv | eclipse

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. sera) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: sfw other than some ugly jealousy c/o a snake → words: 4.9K → a/n: sera didn’t always use to be a shitty person. well, that’s a lie. she was always a shitty person. she just used to be able to hide it well.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission iv | next • —

–– the first day of freshman year ––

The line for the free freshman orientation merchandise is longer than Sera had anticipated, even though she had arrived almost an entire hour early. Though most people would have dismissed the lengthy queue, Sera is Asian as Asian could get, her genes forbidding her from skipping over free shit when free shit can be received. She is sure her ancestors would never forgive her if she allowed this opportunity to slip through her fingers. And so, Sera waits with the rest of the cattle as the line shortens slowly, the heat of the early sun reminiscent of the summer months that should have already passed.

After sweating her body’s weight worth of sweat, she finally finds herself near the front of the line, foot tapping impatiently as the rowdy bunch of newly hatched boylings before her fought amongst themselves for the canvas knapsacks over the pink water bottles. Fragile masculinity at its finest, Sera thinks, as she watches with something akin to pity as the runt of the litter ends up with the “girlier” merchandise in the end.

At this point, all the better free items have mostly run out, though Sera wouldn’t mind getting the university emblem encrusted notepad and pen set. It is only a matter of moral principle when she gets the water bottle after seeing the boy from before shooting her with a desperate look, probably hoping to trade items with her if she had gotten something else. Sadistic pleasure courses through her veins when she sees the light fade from his eyes, the inevitability of his pink water bottle fate permanently sealed.

Puny boy. Drink your nasty energy drinks from your pink tinted bottle for all she cares. She’ll be doing the same, at least.

Free from that slow torture, Sera now has to subject herself to more agonizing torment by waiting for the rest of her orientation group members to arrive, most of whom should have gotten to the intended meeting location by now. She observes as her harried orientation leader tries unsuccessfully to get your small group to interact with one another, his fake cheery smile looking more strained as the apathetic faces of sleep-deprived freshmen fail to respond to his forced banter.

Her orientation leader, whose name she cannot recall for the life of her but will call “Mike” from now on, coughs awkwardly into his spotted handkerchief before dabbing his sweating forehead. Sera grimaces when she notices that a small glob of snot remains stuck to his skin where he had touched, though no one seems obliged to alert him of this fact. He glances at his watch, jumping from one foot to the other, as he does another headcount for the third time in the last ten minutes.

“7… 8… 9…” His finger hovers when it reaches the last person, his brow turned downwards in worry. The glob of snot dangles ever precariously from its perch. “Umm… Does anyone know where the last person is? We’re supposed to be ten, and the first part of our agenda is starting soon.”

Sera wonders why on earth he’s asking that as if they were supposed to be friends with one another. The university had forced everyone to make a group chat with their orientation groupmates a week ago, which was honestly a lost cause considering that everyone was randomly sorted into groups. Sera’s group chat only has two messages so far, with both being from the orientation leader himself. Out of ten people, only two of them have seen the messages, with Sera being one of them.

If that’s an indicator of how today is going to be, then Sera should have poured some shots into her kombucha like a sane person would have.

“Maybe you should try calling her?” One of the girls in her group says, her gaze never leaving her phone as she types rapidly, her dexterity astonishing despite her inch-long acrylic nails. Mike, on the other hand, stares forlornly at the black screen of his phone.

“No can do. My phone died a few minutes ago when I was in the middle of calling my mom. I guess I was too excited when I was telling her about today’s orientation day.” He laughs half-heartedly at that, and Sera might’ve felt a little bad for the guy if his phone didn’t have a keychain of an anime girl with big ol’ dobonhokeros. The only thing missing from his outfit is a big backdrop of his mom’s basement behind him to complete his look.

Mike looks around the group expectantly, obviously trying to catch the eye of one of you. Everyone’s heads bow down immediately, sensing that some effort and participation are about to be required from one of them. Nothing gets tired teens to disappear into the ground quicker than being asked to volunteer for anything that needed 0.01% of their brainpower. Unluckily for Sera, she is a bit too slow in her response, immediately locking gazes with Mike as a grin stretches on his face.

“Sera! You must know Y/N, right? I saw that you and Y/N had opened the group chat the other day. Why don’t you try calling her?” He says brightly, no signs of his depression from earlier. Two boys in Supreme hoodies snicker loudly at Sera’s dismayed face, and she vows to “accidentally” stomp on their pristine white sneakers later with her muddied old trainers.

“Um. Alright,” she agrees through gritted teeth, pulling out her phone with a heavy hand. Sera wonders if you’ll even take the call, possibly wary of answering an unknown number. Her pondering only lasts a second when you answer the call on the first ring, your heavy breaths being the first sound that greets Sera’s ears.

“I’m lost! I can’t find the soccer field! I’m running as fast as I can,” is your jumbled reply, followed by a screech on your end and what sounds like a honking car in the distance. “Sorry!” you call out immediately afterwards, and Sera hazards a guess that you were only two inches away from being roadkill.

“Yeah, this is Sera, one of your orientation groupmates. Mik–I mean, our orientation leader is wondering where you are.”

“I’m–” There is a pause, and Sera thinks for a moment that you might have dropped the call by accident or something. Then, you reply shakily, sniffling slightly. “I… I don’t know??? Help???”

What is it with today? Sera is meeting more people than she would like, and all of them seem to be the human equivalent of a cry for help. Surely, this is a test from above? However, there is something endearingly pitiful about your quiet sobs that makes her want to help you a little bit. She is never one to offer her services so freely to any stranger, but then again… She could become friends with you if you weren’t such a crybaby all the time.

“Describe where you are. I’ll try to come get you,” she says, not missing the way you gasp at her generosity. A feeling of pride settles into her chest, not disliking the way you must be so grateful for her benevolence. She should do this more often.

“Will you really? Oh my god, thank you!” you say giddily. You are quick to describe your surroundings, and luckily, Sera knows exactly where you are. The good thing about being a perfectionist is that Sera loves to over-prepare, so she already did her own tour of the campus before orientation day. In hindsight, she wonders why she even bothered to attend when she could handle herself perfectly. Oh right, the free stuff.

“Okay, hold tight. Be there in a bit,” she says before hanging up the phone. Sera turns back to Mike, who looks awfully smug for being as inept as he is. He begins to gather the rest of the group together, addressing all of them loudly.

“Thanks to the lovely Sera, our last member will join us shortly. In the meantime, we’ll head to the auditorium for the first event of the day while Sera finds Y/N!”

Wait– “You’re leaving me?” Sera shouts, jaw agape. Isn’t he supposed to be in charge? Whatever happened to teamwork and all that shit he was spouting literally ten minutes ago? Yet, here he was. All Mike the Mighty Ass does is shrug his shoulders, patting her impetuously on the back.

“We’re not leaving you! The auditorium is just over there,” Mike points to the imposing domed stadium just across the field. “And we’ll be seated right at the front, so just look for us there!”

“That stadium has a 7000 person capacity. How the hell am I supposed to–”

Sera doesn’t get to finish her sentiment as Mike raises his gaudy orange flag high up into the sky, signaling the rest of the group to follow his lead. None of the little shits even bat an eye as they quickly leave Sera in the dust to look for you.

As Sera gawks at the rapidly emptying field, she surmises that no number of free water bottle could ever amount to the trauma that the past few hours have inflicted on her. You better kiss the ground that she walks on when she finds you, or else there will be consequences to pay.

Finding you is easier said than done. Sera is sure she knew where you were from your descriptions, though there is a possibility that she might have overestimated herself. Either that or your explanation had been vague at best.

“‘In front of the weird blue houses,' she said,” Sera mutters to herself, looking up at the only blue-painted buildings in sight. She supposes that “weird” is subjective, as the houses appear quaint as can be, though maybe you had found the little garden gnomes at the front to be a bit disconcerting. Regardless, there seems to be no other person in sight, unless the crotchety old man in the wheelchair might be you.

She is just about to call you again when a person with twigs in their hair comes running down the sidewalk, their backpack thumping harshly against their back with every step they take. They are waving their hands wildly in the air, a large grin on their face as they struggle to slow down their momentum before inevitably tumbling into Sera’s slight body.

She found you.

“Ooph!” Sera groans, barely holding onto her senses as she tries her best to keep both of you upright. “What the fuck? Where were you?”

“Sorry, sorry!” You apologize repeatedly, swatting away bits of leaves from your hair that consequently fall onto Sera’s sweater. “I got a bit distracted by this dude at a hair salon and I had to make a run for it–”

“Whatever,” Sera interrupts, tugging you by the elbow and back to where the orientation is being held. “Let’s just get out of here before we miss out on the stupid orientation.”

You stumble a bit as you follow after her quick strides, having to hobble a little to catch up. You tilt your head curiously at your surroundings, not recognizing any of the landmarks at all. “Uh. You sure we’re going the right way? All these buildings look weird…”

“Says the chick who couldn’t even find the soccer field.” Sera snorts, continuing to walk with determination. “If you’re going to ogle at every ‘weird’ building we pass, then it’ll take us years to get there. Hurry up!”

After taking a few wrong turns and reaching two deadends, it is only then Sera admits that she might have forgotten the way back. It’s not her fault; she’s only been on campus for a few hours before. To your credit, you don’t seem all that disheartened as she had expected, unlike how distressed you had sounded on the phone earlier. In fact, you are skipping happily along beside her, pausing every often to take a few pictures of the dormitories and lecture buildings like a tourist.

“It’s like this is the first time that you’ve ever seen a building,” Sera jokes, taking a seat on a bench as she watches you frolic around a water fountain. You strike a weird post at her, smiling radiantly with your teeth showing.

“It’s because I only just moved here! I was late because I was busy unpacking my stuff in my dorm room,” you explain, straightening up into a more dignified posture before going to sit beside her.

Sera looks at you curiously. “Oh? You’re living on res? Are you from out of town?”

You shake your head. “Nah. My mom and I live pretty far off though, and I’d prefer not to take a commute in the morning. It’s chill though; I’m sharing a room with this dude I used to go to high school with.”

“They have co-gendered dorm rooms here?” Sera’s interest is piqued, and you are quick to notice it. You laugh, shrugging your shoulders.

“Uh, kind of? We’re like childhood friends and his mom is really close with the residence dean, so she asked if we could room together, just for the first year. She doesn’t really trust him with strangers. He’s really shy, so he’s uncomfortable rooming with someone he doesn’t know.”

“So, you guys aren’t, like, dating or..?”

“Me? Dating Jungkook? Oh God, that’s funny!” You laugh, slapping your knee. The more you think about it, the more ridiculous the idea is. “He’s like a bro to me! I would never date him.”

Sera smiles, a seed of an idea being planted in her brain. She stores it for later, but for now, she asks “Oh? So you’d be fine with introducing him to me sometime? I’d love to meet new people.”

“Sure, dude. He’s really introverted, so I doubt you’ll get too much out of him,” you hum. You close your eyes, enjoying the way the breeze gently caresses your face as Sera observes you from the sidelines.

Interesting, she thinks. She’ll definitely hang around you more. You are not as annoying as she had originally thought, and maybe it would be nice to have a friend to hang out with in between classes. Unassuming, overly excitable, naive… You’re just an innocent puppy, who will follow anyone who pets it. Easy enough; Sera can afford to accommodate you.

Sera smirks, allowing herself to enjoy the breeze as well. University might not be so bad after all.

A few months pass, and being friends with you isn’t as tedious as Sera had feared. In fact, you are a pretty chill person, someone whom Sera never needs to pretend to save face around. To you, her little mean streaks are nothing but little “quirks,” and you often wave them off as silly parts of her personality. Most of the time, the things Sera says are just that: jokes. More often than not, however, Sera has just grown comfortable around you to let her filter run a little loose, letting her goofier and bitchier side come out more easily.

Call it naivety or stupidity, but Sera is thankful to have you around.

Nevertheless, there are still some small moments when that thankfulness falls a little short. Take, for example:

“That TA is totally a bitch! She gave me an 80 on that essay only because her ex-boyfriend hit me up on Instagram. It’s not my fault that her boobs sag all the way to her hips!” Sera exclaims a little too loudly, and you have to silence her through stilted giggles as the two of you pass by the aforementioned TA.

“Marina isn’t that petty,” you say, though your defense is a little too lackluster to be effective. In fact, you’ve been a bit spacey all afternoon, not really present in most of your conversations together. You exit the lecture hall, walking to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. Sera has to pull you out of the way of two speeding bicycles before she thinks to ask you what’s up.

“Huh?” You mumble back, still smiling dopily at nothing. You’ve always been the type to get lost in your head, which is hilarious to Sera, given that your current debilitating crush is on none other than the most air-headed boy on campus. She supposes there is a certain appeal for opposite personalities, though it is funny that out of all the men on campus, you had to choose the heart-on for none other than–

“I was asking you what’s up with you,” Sera repeats, tutting as the two of you arrive at the cafeteria with no further casualties. “Seriously, it’s like your head is in your ass. Don’t tell me you finally got dicked down in the janitor’s closet and you’re basking in the afterglow.”

Sera’s crude comment is what finally gets you to snap out of it. “Hell no, you sex fiend!” You hiss, cheeks reddening at the jab. “Are you ever going to let that go? I told you that fantasy in confidence!”

“My lips are as loose as my pussy, my dude. You should know by now.” Sera says plainly, directing the two of you to one of the sushi joints. You don’t even protest Sera’s choice like you ordinarily would, as you have previously gotten intense food poisoning from one of their sashimi platters a week back. You must really be overthinking something then.

“I know. I’m just saying shit right now,” you say, pulling up a chair and plopping down. You fiddle with the soy sauce bottle contemplatively. “I’m spacing out because I’ve been thinking about the essay we just got back.”

“Oh?” Sera says, eyebrows lifting at that. She pulls out the menu, taking charge for the two of you as you have never quite mastered the art of choosing what food to get. Also, you’re scared of flagging down waiters, for whatever reason. “Did you also get saggy tits as your TA? I’m still mad about that B+, by the way.”

“That’s the thing,” you pause, accidentally flipping open the soy sauce bottle’s cap and spraying yourself with drops of the dark liquid. Neither of you even flinch when it happens, so used to catastrophes happening when it comes to you. You’re like a walking disaster magnet, and Sera has no idea why karma hates you so much. It’s a miracle that you’re alive, sometimes.

So it does come as a huge surprise to her when you follow up by saying, “She gave me an A+.”

The menu drops out of Sera’s hand. “What?” she nearly screeches, scaring the waiter who had been idly standing by your table. You point an apologetic glance at him as he scurries as far away from the two of you as possible, but Sera is undeterred. The words that had come out of your mouth makes no sense whatsoever.

“But… Marina literally gives no one higher than an A! I’ve got sources from upper years saying that she’s a beast when she grades – there must have been a mistake!” Sera says, not bothering to be polite.

You shrug, looking just as confused. “I thought so too. I was going to talk to her after class a while ago, but thought better of it and decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth… Better to accept it than question it, right?”

Sera hums, not wanting to admit that it was irking her that you didn’t ask the TA about it. Her annoyance is unwarranted, however, because she would’ve done the same. Why argue over a blessing? Still, it pains her to know that you got a higher grade than she did, even though you are taking the writing course as an elective, while Sera is a writing major herself.

The two of you enjoy your meal as if nothing had happened, and that is the first time in a long while since Sera has needed to put a façade around you.

In the next coming sessions, Sera and you begin to realize that the A+ had not been a fluke as you consistently continue to ace the quizzes and assignments for your creative writing course. Your professor has been badgering you to consider switching courses for a week now, and you’ve politely declined each and every time.

“Music is just more my thing, you see,” you explain to him, bowing quickly as you exit out of the room to escape another ten minutes of his incessant pleading.

It’s really starting to grate Sera’s gears a little bit.

The thing is, Sera knows she is being petty. It’s not even a new occurrence for her, as she has been known to ditch people once they start being better at her in anything.

Gymnastics in 4th grade had been a bust when star athlete Jinyoung Choi discovered her flexibility during PE. Mathematics had gone down the drain once Abegail Sun had won the Mathlete Competition for the third time in a row. Writing should have been Sera’s only crowning achievement, as she had always grown up with people around her praising her ability to weave universes with her words.

She can’t share that spotlight, not when she’s been pushed into the shadows numerous times already. This time, she’s not going down without a fight.

The worst part about the whole situation isn’t even that you were like a baby waiting for their candy to be stolen. With Sera’s connections and sly tendencies, it wouldn’t be hard to crush you where you stood. She’s only done it once back in high school, stripped someone of their confidence so savagely that they were forced to move to another school. She is sure she could do it again, but for whatever reason, it feels like it would be too easy of a win.

The worst part is that you didn’t even want the limelight, the success. Creative writing is just a hobby for you, and you certainly don’t deserve the recognition at all. Effort should be awarded its due, and you have certainly never exerted more than a pinky finger’s worth in your entire writing career.

The final straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back, which pushed Sera past the point of reason, comes much later than anyone might have guessed. Sera’s patience is like plastic, sometimes durable and heat resistant, but oftentimes flimsy and tearable. It does not take a genius to figure out that all plastic must melt, one way or another.

Second-year comes, and Sera has all but allowed her simmering hatred to remain as just that: simmering. She is careful never to let it boil over, fearful of letting you see her break in the event that you would retaliate. Her problem is that she had allowed you to grow, forgetting to stomp on your confidence every so often so that you would be forced to depend on her. Now, you have amassed a sizeable following for your writing online, and Sera knows that you could use that power against her if you pleased. Cancel culture can be like the plague, and Sera knows the ins and outs of it better than anyone else.

Sera knows logically that you would never do that to her, as much as you would like to. Your morals restrain you from doing so, which saves Sera from some anxiety of backlash at least. Still, she has to remain careful anyway.

The two of you do not see each other as often as you once did during your first year. As sophomores, your majors require you to take more courses specialized towards your degree, meaning the general education courses that you shared were no longer required. The only time you ever saw Sera is during Creative Writing and the occasional lunch out in between classes.

Despite that, Sera just can’t get away from you, no matter how hard she tries. Your presence is everywhere: on the university newspaper, on the university forums, on club recruitment posters – hell, she thinks she sees some dude wearing a t-shirt with your face and Jungkook’s face printed on the front or something. Worst of all, she hears about you all the time, from her stupid professors who can’t stop waxing poetic about you. Case in point:

“Professor, may I speak to you?” Sera approaches Professor Puth at the front of his podium once class ends, whiffs of musky marijuana hovering around him like a cloud. You give Sera a confused look, about to ask what she wants to ask before she waves you off, urging you to go ahead.

“I’ll see you next Thursday. I got a tutorial right after this,” Sera lies smoothly, poised grin in place. Not really one to question her, you shrug your shoulders, waving both her and your professor goodbye.

“So,” Professor Puth says, peering at Sera. “Sera, right?”

Sera beams at him. “Yes, Professor. Glad you remember me.”

He hums thoughtfully, tongue jutting out as he appraises her with eyes sharper than any stoned person would have. “Yes, of course. What did you want to talk about?”

“You see, I got my assessment draft back this morning, and it says I got a C+ on it, but I’m sure I followed the rubric very carefully. Are you sure there wasn’t a mistake?” Sera says, not a hitch in her voice despite her outrage slowly starting boil over the edge. She’s never felt so humiliated in her life, having to beg like a dog for a regrade like some sort of pitiful loser.

“You might want to ask the TAs about regrading, in that case. I only graded a few of the works. Which one was yours about?”

“The poem about the withering tree, Professor.”

“Oh, yes. I remember that one. I was the one who graded it,” Professor Puth says, rubbing his chin. He tilts his head. “What did you want to ask about it?”

Sera stares at him, disbelief coloring every inch of her face. “Um, I just said… I wanted to ask – I followed the rubric and everything, so how come my grade was…” she trails off, embarrassed.

Professor Puth tuts, swiveling away to approach his desk. Sera follows, unsure for the first time in her life, as he starts rearranging his things to pack up. “Sera, I can e-mail the rubric to you again, if you want. I assure you, there is one essential part of the grading scheme that you forgot, and I’m afraid that is what cost your grade.”

Sera thinks. “Was it… the formatting?”

He barks out a laugh, slamming his papers down as if what she had just said was the funniest thing he’s heard since a Yo Mama joke. “No, of course not. It was the content! The emotion! You cannot just string highfalutin words together and expect the reader to feel moved.”

Sera flinches, offended. “I think those aspects of poetry are very subjective, Professor. Surely, you could ask for a second opinion–”

“I always ask for second opinions when grading assignments,” he says, wagging a finger. “We all agreed that your work was at least a C+, though I had originally graded it a C- at best.”

Once again, for the first time in her life, Sera is at a loss for words. Never has she been so casually humiliated before, especially after all the time she has put in to being nothing but a stellar student for all her professors. This must be some sort of bad dream.

“On the other hand,” he continues, pausing in his packing to stare at Sera. She does not feel like he is truly looking at her; rather, he looks to be lost in thought about something else entirely. “That friend of yours… Miss Y/N, right? I’ve always heard about her from my colleagues.”

The mention of your name causes the hairs on the back of her neck to bristle, and Sera goes defensive immediately. “What about her?” she cautions.

“Oh, just that she’s a wonderful writer. Very moving stories with lots of depth. I was a bit skeptical at first because Professor Whitney has always been a bit of a softie with freshmen… but she was right,” he nods to himself, a small smirk on his face. “That girl… I don’t doubt in the slightest that she could make someone fall in love with her just by writing them a piece.”

The comparison might have hurt less if he had used a different example, anyone else really. Some unknown sap that Sera could tear piece by piece without a shred of remorse, made easier by the fact that she did not have to know and care for them. You, on the other hand…

It has always been you. She rues the day she met you, when she had thought you were nothing but a meek little puppy to play with, not knowing that you had a hidden dagger behind your back. How foolish of her to let her guard down, and it makes her even angrier to think that you had no idea of the pain you have inadvertently caused her. No, she will make you understand her pain, her struggle. It is only right and just.

All she had to do was wait for an opportunity to strike and until then… It should be easy to keep up this charade. She has done it for more than a year, and she can do it for another ten. She has been doing it all her life, in fact.

When that day comes, she’ll be ready, and there’s nothing you can do but watch as she burns your whole world to the ground.

#bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts angst #bts crack #bts fluff #bangtan #bts fanfic #not much bts cameos in this one... except for baby freshie jungoo uwu #wish i had a jungoo in my life HAH

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jaebaebie · 4 years

Text

Why Us? Why Now? Why Ever?

In a post apocalyptic world where walkers took over the living, Era realised that she was different from every one else. Wanting to uncover the reasons to her differences, she embarked on a journey to the West where she met a few Strays,, including a man named Hwang Hyun Jin who, just like her, was cold, hot headed, and full of distrust. She thought they would never get along, but what happens when the two cold hearts start to melt?

STRAY KIDS ZOMBIE AU // WUWNWE MASTERLIST

Chapter 4 ~ “See? It’s simple.”

prev // next

The walk through the forest was thankfully quiet. We didn’t bicker like we usually did, letting the soft crunch of the dried leaves under our feet be the only sounds we could hear.

My steps were halted by Hyunjin’s grasp on my arm, pulling me back harshly. There were no signs of walkers, not even a movement in the forest, so I turned to him, a confused and slightly annoyed look on my face. I was not pleased with the sudden and rough physical contact.

He pointed to the ground just in front of me, revealing a thick brown rope which tied into a snare knot, easily camouflaged in the dried leaves. The rope led up to a tree, creating some kind of trap for whoever stepped in it.

“Walker trap.” Hyunjin explained, “We have these all around camp thanks to Seungmin’s brain.”

I nodded, muttering a small ‘thanks’ as I stepped aside to walk past the so-called ‘walker trap’.

Walking deeper into the forest, I made sure to watch out for the slightest hints of ropes in the ground, not wanting to be hauled up in the air like the zombies we had come across. The walker trap caught the ankles of anyone who stepped foot in it, dragging them to hang upside down from the tree.

Hyunjin had his dagger out, easily stabbing any walker that fell prey to the trap in its skull, before disposing of it and resetting the trap back in its original place.

It really made me curious as to what the boy went through when the apocalypse hit. He didn’t seem shocked to see any walker in his way, as he had the same undeterred look on his face when he put an end to each of them. Not shocked. Not scared. Unbothered.

I hadn’t even realised that I had been staring at him from the back. And I didn’t realise he would notice, proving me wrong when he let out a sigh, “Why do you keep staring?”

Flustered, I quickly muttered out the first plausible explanation, knowing that I was caught red handed, “I’m sorry for cutting you,, and you know trying to kill you.”

His cheek still bore the cut that I placed on him during our first meeting, scabbed. A corner of his mouth twitched as he raised his brow towards me, “I didn’t know you were capable of apologising.”

“Well,, you don’t know a lot of things about me.”

“Yeah? Let’s keep it that way.” Hyun Jin replied, causing my face to flush red in anger and embarrassment. Here I was, apologising to a jerk like him, and yet, he continued to be a jerk. I shook my head, knowing that I should just accept the fact that Hyunjin and I will never be more than acquaintances who can’t stand each other.

“Jackpot.” I exclaimed, immediately forgetting my anger as I spotted the small prints of an animal deepened into the mud. “One’s close by. Stay quiet.”

Following the tracks, I set down a handful of corn on the ground.

“Bait?” Hyunjin asked. I nodded, “Better to shoot it when it has its guard down.”

We stationed ourselves behind a bush, a distance away from the bait we had just placed, far enough to not scare our meal, but close enough for me to get an accurate shot. After a long and dreadful silence, the deer came into view, sniffing the bait we’d placed.

With my bow ready and arrow in place, I aimed, taking a deep breath. In. Out.

Remember, Era. Aim, Breathe, Shoot

I relaxed myself, closing my eyes as I recalled his face. His hazel brown eyes. The wrinkles that would form when he smiled. My shoulders relaxed the way they always did as and I opened my eyes, releasing the arrow.

The deer let out a squeal as the arrow hit just inches away from its fatal spot. Immediately, I aimed for another shot, shooting it directly through its eyes and causing it to fall fatally to the ground.

“Impressive.” Hyunjin remarked as we walked towards the prey I just caught.

I turned to him, a small proud smile on my face, “I didn’t know you were capable of complimenting.”

He shrugged his shoulders, helping me tie the legs of the deer together, “You don’t know lots of things about me, Era.” He said, imitating me.

Rolling my eyes, I busied myself with tying the rope as replying him with the same comment he made previously would be too cliché. Also, the comment would’ve been untrue, given that my curiosity actually wants to know more about him even if the two of us can’t stand each other. I mean, keep your friends close and your enemies closer,, right?

“We’re catching another one?” Hyunjin asked, noticing that Ive place more bait on another area. I shook my head, tossing him my long bow, “Nope. You’re catching another one. Deers travel in herds. His mate shouldn’t be too far.”

“I shoot guns, Era, not arrows.”

“Well, you said to teach you how to hunt. You can’t hunt with guns unless you’re hunting for a hoard of walkers. And you won’t always have me. As soon as you guys are good with hunting, I’m out.” I said, leaving him to find another spot to hide from.

His gaze switched momentarily. So quick that I couldn’t decipher what had possibly changed because his expression went back to his dry one. “You’re still not staying?”

I passed him an arrow, which he was able to attach the end of it to the string easily. “I told you. I don’t do people.” I replied, nodding to the tree several meters away from us, “Practice a few shots.”

Unlike guns, a bow and arrow was much easier to learn. It wasn’t as complex because all there was to learn was how to aim properly. Since the arrow was longer than a bullet, it was much easier to aim accurately with a bow than a gun and there would be no recoil that would screw up your aim with the bow.

Hyunjin gave me a glare as I challenged him with a smile, “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

He raised his arms, pulling the string back tensely— his first mistake. Barely taking the time to aim, he released the string, causing the arrow to land on the tree next to the one he was aiming for.

He watched my expression, expecting to see a smug look on my face. But I simply shrugged my shoulders, “At least you hit something..?”

Passing him another arrow, I helped him with his pose, “It’s simple, Hyunjin.”

“Make sure you line your body perpendicular to your target. Close your right eye and pull using three fingers. Aim using the tip of the arrow, slightly above your target,” he followed diligently, altering the way he held the bow. Aim

My heart ached as I remembered how I was taught, imitating every move that was done for me. Placing my hands on Hyunjin’s shoulders, I felt them tense from my touch, “Relax and breathe. You can’t be tense.”

His shoulders raised and fell as he took a breath in and then out. Breathe

Then he released the string, launching the arrow into its desired target. Shoot

Hyunjin’s eyes seemed to almost widen when he realised he actually hit the target. Almost. I gave him a small smile, “See? Its simple.”

By the time Hyunjin had caught another deer, the sun was nearly setting. We both knew that there was nothing good when the sun was down. Though some walkers continue to be active in the day, they seemed to be more active at night, making it a lot more dangerous to roam around without the comfort of the sun.

“You caught these?” Jeongin exclaimed. He was the first to greet me the minute Hyun Jin and I were back in the safety of the camp.

I nodded, giving him a smile. “I’ll hand these to Suzy.” He said, referring to one of the middle aged woman who was in charge of providing food as he took the two ropes from Hyunjin and I.

Hyunjin and I hadn’t spoken a word ever since we left for camp. I thought that he was being his usual cold self,, which I didn’t mind since the feeling was mutual. Except, his mind seemed to be distant. Like he was thinking of something beyond where to step and which way led us back to camp.

Felix called out for the two of us, waving his hands from the usual table they sat in for dinner.

“You coming?”

Hyunjin shook his head, “I’m gonna look for Chan first. Tell him how it went.”

I nodded, beginning to walk towards Felix to join them for dinner. I felt a sense of excitement when I spotted Han at the same table, waving.

“Era.”

I stopped in my tracks, turning to face the man who had just called my name.

He shifted uncomfortably, though his eyes remained cold, “I’m sorry too,, for trying to shoot you.”

I blinked, surprised that Hyunjin actually just apologised to me— something I thought he would rather die than do. I found myself flashing him a genuine smile,

“Took you long enough”

#skz au #skz writing #Stray kids writing #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz #stray kids #skz zombie #Stray kids au #stray kids zombie #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids hyun jin

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kikyozoldyck · 5 years

Text

v. catch me if you can

PAIRING: diego hargreeves x reader SUMMARY: no diego but lots of plot !!! WARNINGS: mentions of shooting people, also diego being a fuckboi extreme

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you lean into it, the twilight of dreams still heavy in your drug addled mind.

“Diego?” You ask, nuzzling into the hand, “you came back.”

“Diego?” A woman asks, and she sounds startled. Your eyes snap open. Not Diego. Patch, looking worse for ware and clutching a cardboard coffee carrier in her hand, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah.” you say, awkwardly. The vestiges of your dreams are still clinging to you, like wet cotton, and you remember Diego in it. Diego grinning and kissing you, hands reaching up and slowly untying the mask. And he’d been handsome, you can remember that, but you can’t remember for the life of you what Diego looked like. Not that it matters—none of it was real. None of it. “He’s a friend of mine. I thought he might be visiting again. Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Patch blinks at you, and she doesn’t look reassured at all. If anything, she looks a little panicked now.

“Diego was here?” She asks, worriedly. “The cop Lupo stuck outside your door said you haven’t had any visitors. There was someone here with you? Named Diego?”

“No, no!” you assure her hastily, and now you’re a little panicked too. You can’t tell anyone about Diego, or else they might start asking questions. Questions you can’t answer without losing your badge. “I must have been dreaming. Sorry, I’m sorry. No Diego.”

The woman’s eyes narrow. She’s always been excellent at weeding out liars. It used to be your favorite quality of hers.

“No Diego.” She repeats, voice low. “Right. Of course. Because someone sneaking into a hospital crawling with cops to break into a sick patient’s room would be insane.”

You blink at her. She seems really invested in this hypothetical scenario. She must really take your safety seriously.

“Yeah.” You agree with a nervous little laugh. “But no Diego, so it’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.” Patch’s eyes narrow further.

“Why would I worry?” She agrees, voice still low. Then she blinks, and the storminess fades abruptly from her face. She smiles brightly at you, a little too brightly. “No problem. Sorry, lost in my own thoughts. You seem better. I brought you a hot cocoa,” and you must make a face because the next thing she says is, “the doctor said no caffeine.”

She sets the cup on the tray table for you, and takes the seat by your bedside. “Thank you,” you say, taking a tentative sip of the drink, “so, what’s going on with the motel?”

“Don’t you ever think about anything not work related?” She asks, taking a sip of her coffee. Then she remembers just who she’s talking to and says, “not much, really. There wasn’t any evidence left at the scene and the witnesses either don’t know anything or won’t say anything. You know how it is with motels like that one.”

“And the Kraken?” You ask, hiding your face behind your paper cup.

“No sign of him yet.” Patch says, with this weird little laugh, and for a second you’re worried she knows, “but Lupo put a shoot on sight order on him so when he does turn up, it won’t be pretty.”

“Why would he do that?” You ask indignantly, but when Patch looks suspicious you add, “I mean, people could get hurt. Innocent people.” Like Diego, you don’t say.

“Because you’re his favorite.” Patch says, with a tiny smile, “if the Kraken shot anyone one else in the precinct he wouldn’t give a shit.”

You open your mouth to argue but at the same moment her radio goes off, calling her to a domestic disturbance on 29th and Park.

“Just focus on getting better, okay?” She says, gently patting your head, “let us handle the rest.”

“Eudora, wait!” you call out after her, “could you, uh, maybe keep me updated on the Kraken thing? It’s just, you know, I’ve spent two years chasing the motherfucker, if someone managed to bag him in one night, I’d need to buy them a drink.” The woman tenses for a moment, then turns back to face you. Her smile seems a little menacing.

“Sure. Let me know if your Diego drops by—I’d love to meet him. After the guard outside your room does, of course.”

“Uh, sure.” you say, but Patch’s already gone. You stare off towards the empty hallway.

—

Diego doesn’t visit you again at the hospital, in or out of the mask, and after Day 3 of gazing longingly out into the empty hallway, you’re starting to get a little annoyed.

You do not kiss people, tell them you want to be more than friends, and then just leave. You do not kiss-and-run without getting your victim’s insurance information—or their phone number. Diego is a horrible human being and you hate him.

“I know he’s hot, sweetie, but there’s no need to moon over him like this.”

You blinks, turning to look at your sister as she eats your last cup of hospital issued red flavor jello.

“I’m not mooning. God, that would be stupid. He’s clearly an idiot.” She looks at you, lips pursed a little bemusedly.

“Is that why you never called him after your little date?”

“What?” You’ve never gone on a date with Diego. Unless eating cold pizza at your place counts. But how were you supposed to call without having his phone number? How does your sister know you didn’t call?

“John.” your sister sighs, sounding exasperated. “Donna’s friend? The handsome millionaire who I so graciously set you up with?” Right, Mr. McSexy Millionaire.

“Oh, yeah. What about him?”

“He told Donna you ghosted him!” She says, eyes narrowing. “I’ve mentioned it four times in the last hour. Were you ignoring me?”

“No, of course not.” you assure her quickly, because she might actually stab you with your own IV if you don’t cater to her massive ego.

“So,” she says, making a ‘carry on’ gesture with her hands, “what is it? Why don’t you like him?”

The answer is as silly as it is true, John’s not Diego and that’s all that really matters to you.

“No. Yes. Maybe. It’s just that I sort of have a…thing.” You have no idea how to classify this relationship with Diego. “And I’m off the market, at least for now.”

“You’re seriously passing up a hot millionaire model with a PhD?” Your sister raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and you nod, “Wow. Who is this person?”

A person who kisses you and runs away. A person whose face you’ve never seen, whose phone number you don’t even know. A criminal.

You reach up and brush your lips with your fingers, remembering the warm feeling of Diego’s lips on your own.

“Total asshole.” You say, honestly, “but I sort of like him. A lot.”

---

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