#//I do get the feeling the goodness of his neighbours slowly wore THIS version down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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you look so good : two

you look so good [9.1k]

“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”

Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”

“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”

A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out.

Arnold’s Singularity Theory

October 26, 2019

Her back was hunched over the wooden desk beside her bed. The high pitched ringing of her alarm snapped her eyes open at six in the morning. The sky was a navy blue; she could make out the few dog walkers on the street. It was her only day off, but the piled work on her table argued otherwise.

Genevieve was alone in her freezing apartment. The heating was broken and when she told Mr. Goldwin, her landlord, he didn’t have his hearing aid on. She had a routine for Sundays: Wake up. Do practice problems. Make a cup of tea. Sleep.

A dull ache prodded between her shoulder blades, her spine was sorely unaligned. Her face was all sunken cheeks and shades of grey. The sweater bought last month suddenly became a few sizes too big.

The sun created hues of orange and reds. The blue that slowly peeked out at the sides made it seem like a bowl of dirty paint water being stirred. The evening stillness in her flat was interrupted by the sudden roar of an engine. As she looked out the window, a car zoomed down the road with a blaring radio. An animated lightning bolt was left behind, its speed meant it was gone within a blink. An unsettling feeling made itself a home in the pit of her stomach. She pictured it as swirls, starting off as small slow circles, and eventually growing into sharp hurried edges.

It was probably nothing, maybe university kids having a laugh, but she didn’t have the time to mull over it because the swinging of her front door and jingling of a bundle of keys sounded loudly.

Meena opened the door to her refrigerator and the only thing there was a flickering light bulb and an empty box of orange juice. A high pitched shrill followed.

“Gen!”

Genevieve was out of milk, eggs, and cereal.

She wouldn’t have given it another thought and might’ve ordered take out or popped in at the Smalls’ to split a pizza with Jonah, the neighbour’s kid who she tutored every once in a while. He was the only child of a single dad who worked too many hours at the construction site to make rent. He wasn’t home often and they had a silent understanding of popping in every couple days to keep an eye on him, much like Meena liked to keep tabs on Genevieve. Except, Genevieve wasn’t a scrawny teenage boy who needed to be looked after, something which Meena would refute without a shadow of doubt. At the current state of Genevieve’s flat, the jury would easily side with Meena Ahmed.

Meena had a hand on her hip, her lips pressed in a firm line. She took a deep breath, pinching the carton between her thumb and index finger. “Gen-e-vieve!”

Meena put her foot down and opened the trash can only to find it overflowing. She held back a gag.

“Genevieve!”

After some rustling and movement on the other side of the wall, her feet stumbled out of her bedroom. An unimpressed snarl on her face, Genevieve’s body leaned against the doorway.

“I think by now everyone in this bloody building knows my name,” she said with a textbook in one hand and a pen in the other. She had not looked away from the pages. She hurriedly scratched an answer to her practice problems before it could float away from her brain. “That’s exactly the information they need to kick me out.”

Meena was in her work out clothes, a bright pink neon top with matching trainers. She looked straight out of a healthy living ad. She had glossy black hair, almond shaped eyes, and always smelled of fresh daisies. She had that all American smile and pearly whites that were blinding. She was into juicing, kale, and art history.

“What is this?”

“What’s what?” Genevieve inquired, her eyes glued on the next problem.

When a moment of silence went by and no response was given, her head shot up.

Her eyes flickered from the trash can—she thought she saw something move in there— to the open door of her empty refrigerator. Her lips fell into an O shape.

“When you told me you went to the shops on Tuesday, I didn’t know you were talking about two bloody weeks ago,” Meena huffed as she bent down to tie a knot on the black bag, her nose scrunched up. It was atypical to hear her accent try out British sayings, but amusing nonetheless. “Have you been eating?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I do have instant noodles on the shelf. And I mainly eat at the diner.” Genevieve shrugged, her attention migrated back to her pages. What at first glance looked like to be ten simple problems turned out to be a mess of numbers and formulas that weren’t making any sense.

“That God awful place serves nothing but heart disease! It takes a whole stack of napkins to soak up that grease!” Meena scoffed as she replaced the bin with a fresh bag. On multiple occasions, she had cornered a frightened Walter to discuss his technique and may have even manipulated him to add a vegan alternative to his infamous pancakes. Thanks to Meena, Flo’s now served gluten-free, vegetarian, and no sugar added options. Genevieve firmly believed Walter did it out of fear, but he won’t admit it. “And instant noodles are not a meal, we have talked about this.”

“‘Course they are! An efficient one too.”

“What happened to ‘We’re gonna change things this year, Meena! Real changes! You won’t recognize me by the time I’m done’?”

If there was one thing Meena Ahmed took seriously, it was New Year’s resolutions. She kept every one ever since she was old enough to make them. She hadn’t missed a gym day for the past three years. When she said she would take on meditation, she actually did. When her mind became set on studying abroad in London, on January first, she was boarding a plane.

So when the following December 31st hit and Genevieve was one too many drinks in with Meena, she found herself making empty promises of eating better and taking care of herself. Little did Meena know that to Genevieve, resolutions were much like a two-week free trial. As soon as that time frame was up, you could up and go.

“I put in a solid effort for a week, and that’s what counts!”

“We need to go to the shops. You have nothing here. You need a list.” The pen between Genevieve’s fingers was swiped and the tearing of paper was quick from her notebook. She was also very much into being intrusive. “Let’s start off with the basics. Eggs, milk, bread. Do you want tea?”

“I can do my own groceries! I’m not a child, Meena!”

“Could’ve fooled me. By the looks of it, you’ve been living off frosted flakes. Do you even know where the closest store is?”

Genevieve scoffed and propped herself on the counter with the back of her elbows. “Of course I do, I am very much capable of taking care of myself.”

Meena paused. Her body turned towards Genevieve with her full, utmost attention. Her eyes scanned her from head to toe, Genevieve was being appraised.

She didn’t put effort to hide the worried crinkle forming between her brows. “Have you showered today? Changed your clothes?”

Genevieve wasn’t a slob, but she did let herself go at times. It was something that Meena, who religiously went to get fresh manicures every two weeks, couldn’t quite grasp.

“Oh, sod off! I was just about to run myself a bath before you came barreling in.”

She wasn’t, but Meena didn’t need to know that.

“Hm, what type of tea?” Meena asked after rolling her eyes dismissively.

“Green, please.”

“Let’s get some pasta, green beans, kidney beans, and some lentils.”

Genevieve’s nose scrunched. “I don’t even know what to do with lentils.”

“I have a great recipe for a dal curry. I’ll teach you, it’ll be perfect. We can make a whole day out of it.”

A whole day? For lentils? Genevieve opened and closed her mouth shut, no words came out. She sighed, getting Meena to budge was a faraway dream. She rubbed her strained eyes as Meena listed off something about the lack of vitamins in her diet. She was now on a tangent explaining how an increase in omega-3 and healthy fats in her diet could be beneficial when Genevieve's front door knob jiggled. There was a grunt and a strategic kick to the door, and it flew open.

“Gen!” he panted, his tongue slipped out unintentionally like a dog. His cheeks were flushed a cherry red, probably from the trek up the stairs. Jonah’s backpack was twice the size of him. He wore a shirt with his favourite comic book character, its armpits a shade darker than the rest of his shirt.

He had a ghost white face and his left eye twitched. “Hey, bud, you alright?” Genevieve raised a brow.

Little lungs took in a heavy breath, quite like pulling the handles of a bicycle air pump up.

“I don’t get the trigonometric equations! I have a test tomorrow! Mrs. Hansuld was going over the review in class and it looked like she was speaking Russian— and I know I should’ve been studying last week but they just released the new version of Triton Galaxy X and it was just so beyond cool, Gen. I am already on level twelve, and, well, now I have a test and I don’t know any of it. Nothing. Zero. I don’t think I can even add numbers anymore.”

Genevieve looked at Meena. Her mouth was parted from shock as she blinked at the frazzled boy in front of them. “You’re so tiny… but you, you speak so much and so fast.”

“Um, actually, you’re mistaken.” He raised an accusing finger. His height was a sensitive topic. He was at the stage where all his friends were getting growth spurts and growing like weeds, whereas he had yet to experience his own. “I am almost five foot and that is within the normal height range on WebMD, Docs4You and according to my pediatrician.”

Genevieve found it amusing that his voice reached a higher pitch the more defensive he got. He was a whistle by the end of his sentence. It also didn’t help that his last name was Smalls and kids in school could be cruel.

“‘Course, yeah, I’m sorry. My bad.” Meena nodded quickly. She knew she hit a nerve as she backed up slowly. She scratched the back of her neck. “Um, well, Gen and I were planning on picking up groceries, but I’ll go grab ‘em.”

“Great, I’ll go take my books out.” Jonah dragged his bag like a potato sack into the living room.

“You really don’t have to, Meena.”

“Gen, it’s no big deal,” she brushed off. “Anyway, I don’t think your pal wants me around much. I need an escape and maybe a magazine too.”

When Meena gulped uncomfortably, Genevieve shook her head. She pushed herself off the counter.

“Here take my card.” Genevieve shoved the plastic rectangle into Meena’s hand. A comforting squeeze was given. “If you get him one of those milk chocolate bars, he will forgive you in ten minutes tops.”

“Right,” Meena laughed. “I’ll be back in no time.”

***

October 27, 2019

There was a buzzing.

The room was swallowed in darkness, the crescent moon that hung behind the window didn’t provide enough light to warrant a quick search. It was enough of a reason for Genevieve to shut her half opened lids.

Except that the buzzing began again.

Genevieve groaned into her pillow until the nuisance came to a full stop. Whoever was beckoning her attention could do without it until the sun came up. There was an ache in her neck from the poor posture that her body folded in. To top it off, she had an 8:00 a.m. class. There were not enough hours in the night so she was clinging on to any thread of peace. She tossed and turned until she got the sheets pooled around her in just the right way.

Just when Genevieve was about to slip into the blissful state of unconsciousness, the aggravating buzz started once more. The less than pleased frown on her lips could surely make fresh flowers wilt. Her limbs were heavy with sleep as she moved her duvet to find the pesky device. Genevieve lived in a shithole. Labelling her room a shoe box would be bordering glamorous. Although, it did make it easier to find things.

It took a couple of shuffles and twists to hear the thud of a screen colliding against the floorboard. The damn thing was still ringing. The brightness on the unknown caller screen made her face glow blue and the back of her eyes burn; she shut them while blindly hitting the green circle.

“Hm?” Her voice croaked.

“You know the time I got you out of a thing?”

Their words were slurred and the glowing digits on her windowsill read 5:26 a.m. This meant one thing only. “No, sorry. Wrong number.”

Genevieve brought the phone away from her face, and just as her finger hovered over the red circle, a needy yelp cried out.

“Gen! Don’t hang up!”

Her eyes rolled with an aggravated sigh, fingers reluctantly pressing the device to the side of her head. There was sleep crusted in the corners of her eyes and she had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the darkness.“What do you want, Niall?”

“You see, I’m in this predicament… and I might need someone sober and with a car.”

“Then call a bloody Uber. Who do you think I am?”

“Look, I thought that. But—”

There was rustling on the other side. After some bickering, another voice spoke through the line.

“Gen, come get this tosser or else he will pass out on my floor. I swear, I’ll lock up with him inside.”

“How bad is he?” Genevieve was already pushing aside textbooks on her floor in search of a pair of trousers. With one leg inside and the receiver pressed between her cheek and shoulder, she hopped on her bedroom floor.

“Not good. He is a right mess.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Just keep giving him water, please? Thanks for the ring, Ted.” She knew Niall well enough to know that this wasn’t his bright and shiny idea. If it were up to him, he would pass out on a park bench.

“Got your number scratched on the wall for a reason.” The click sounded on the other side, then the line dropped afterwards.

It was true. If you looked hard enough you could make out the chicken scratched scribbles right under the faux payphone mounted inside The Cabinet, where the beers were cheap and Niall Horan was reachable at the slightest inconvenience that struck his life. Last week, it was because he had failed his mid-term. This week, the problem was blonde and walking across campus and shared one too many of his courses.

“No, Gen, she’s just too gorgeous, it’s unbelievable. I think I am in love.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to happen, but congrats.”

Ted adored Niall immensely when he was bringing more business to the pub and getting the word out, not when he was a blubbering mess on the sticky countertops. He sipped his drinks like water to the point that Ted would morph into a psychiatrist. This happened so often that it had become a ritual. The day Niall stopped burdening him with his problems was a day that failed to exist.

Much like her room, the small flat didn’t have the lights on. Genevieve didn’t need them to navigate her path, her fingers haphazardly pulled on her boots and plucked the bundle of keys from a mug.

Her car, a well-loved hand-me-down, was nothing lavish. It got her from point A to B without much resistance on good days. Her foot eased on the gas, with the route was well versed and memorized. After a couple of stop signs, her destination would be reached. The streets were empty and not one car was spotted at any intersections.

A light breeze roamed around and brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. She should’ve brought a sweater, she thought, as her teeth began to chatter. Her dark hair was haphazardly twisted into a bun and rested on the top of her head. The car door shut behind her as she quickly jogged across the street to where the pub was located.

The street was lonely.

There were only a handful of people that would be up at this hour. This subgroup of people definitely did not include her. She thought she was still partly asleep when there was a familiar figure pacing down the sidewalk towards her. Maybe it was the dark, but even after she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms, the slope of the person remained familiar. As they got closer, the once blurred image sharpened, and she felt her stomach flip.

A slight panic arose in Genevieve’s eyes. He was too close of a distance for her to dash through the doors, and it would’ve been clear that she was making a run from him. She doesn’t recall when exactly their encounters began to turn dreadful. But the reality of the situation wasn’t how, it was the fact that they had. This was the second time he stood across from her. The rate of their reunions was at an all time high after years spent apart. It made a heavy weight rest on her chest, her own personal Sisyphus boulder.

Tiptoeing and maneuvering their way around each other was the hardest part. There wasn’t a book in the world that taught you how to stand across someone that you once spoke to every day. There was a time Genevieve could tell what each tilt, rise, and fall of Harry’s face meant. How do you go from sharing friends, laughter, a life, to becoming nothing short of hollow strangers? As they stood across from each other on an empty street, they only shared blank stares.

“Hi.” His breathing was a bit uneven, and Genevieve saw the beginnings of roses bloom on his cheek under the streetlights. His moose coloured hair was tucked under a beanie and there was a slight stubble on his chin.

“You are running?” Genevieve squinted at him. Navy gym shorts hung off his hips and a full sleeve athletic shirt was on top. “At five in the morning?”

Genevieve hated how Harry looked brand new. In the midst of a mountain worth of chaos and hurt, how he managed to look shiny, pre-packaged, and unopened was well beyond her. She had to hold herself together with her bare arms when her seems unravelled. Harry was happier before Genevieve and it was something she had to be okay with. There was no specific reason why. It was just how reality worked.

“By the time I’m done, it will be six. I’ll have to get up anyway.” His shoulders rose and fell in a mindless shrug. Genevieve brought her arms to fold across her chest, her fists cuddled under her armpits to trap heat.

“You’re insane.” Genevieve shook her head. The neon trainers he had on rivalled the brightness of the open sign hung on the doors of The Cabinet. When Genevieve thought she had made enough of an effort at a civil conversation, she turned around to push the heavy glass door. There was nothing else to say to him.

Conversation with Harry wasn’t always a chore. She was able to speak without having to think twice or second guess herself. Now, it seemed like every word led to a dead end of an inescapable maze.

Genevieve accepted that Harry was no longer the person she came to with her favourite songs, books and a cup of tea. She wondered if whatever reminiscent memoir she had in her memory of him served true till today. Her Harry was never the sober driver or the early bird runner. She did not expect him to stay the same. No, that would be cruel. But a small part of her wanted to know if she had known him at all.

Before her weight gave to the door, his voice chimed up.

“You’re drinking?”

“God no, I’m, um—No. I’m here for a friend.” Genevieve paused, a deep breath circled her lungs and helped her string some words together. “He’s gone a bit over the top.” She chuckled. It wasn’t soft and light, but rather felt like sandpaper.

“Oh, right. ‘Course.” Harry rubbed at the back of his neck with his fingers. He blinked to the ground, the cracked concrete suddenly became much more of an interest. “I wasn’t— it’s just, I run this route every morning and I never see you and maybe I thought—”

“It’s okay, Harry.” He began to run his fingers through his hair, the beanie scrunched in his left hand. “I really need to help my friend, yeah?”

“Right, I’ll see you around?”

Genevieve left his question hung in the air like forgotten laundry on a washing line. She thought it was better than saying I hope not. She didn’t want to mention that she tried to avoid him to the best of her ability. Genevieve knew his habits, his patterns. She had knowledge about places he went to, so, naturally, she didn’t. It was a triumph for her to go without months of seeing him. But there was only so much she could do. Juggling probabilities of his whereabouts would never assign her a one hundred percent assurance of erasing him, even with a ninety-nine percent confidence interval.

“Genny?” he called out again. The rational part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and walk through the door. Instead, she took a breath through her nose and turned around slowly. She wrapped her arms tighter together as the temperature dropped by the second. “Um, do you think we could talk sometime?”

There was a frailness to his voice. He was nervous. Genevieve knew this because he had made a mess of his hair with the number of times his fingers combed it back.

The next words off her tongue painted a sad smile on his raspberry chapped lips. He looked exhausted, the grey shadows under his eyes beckoned her to not beat around the bush.

“We are talking, Harry.”

Confrontation was a foreign concept to Genevieve. Brushing it under the rug and forgetting about it seemed the best way for her. If it is out of sight, it will be out of mind. But Harry had other plans. He wanted to strip the house down and uncover every corner Genevieve thought to be her hiding spot. It was an intrusion and she didn’t want him to come knocking down doors.

“No, I mean—”

“It was nice seeing you,” she said, her mouth set into a thin, straight line as she held eye contact. They were still the same deep green with golden flecks. She had seen them angry, hopeful, teary, but right now they were desperate.

The slight tilt to her head told Harry not to push it. To leave things as they were. He served as a walking reminder of loss and all the things she wanted to forget. Their situation did not have to go back to a normal distribution; their data was skewed, and the standard deviation was large enough to wedge a significant distance from their past to present.

Change was good, even if it was different. Over time, the further apart she was from him the better it was for her. And she hoped it was the same for him.

No one warned Genevieve that holding a grudge required discipline and so much energy. She felt drained, her bones became weak enough they could snap in half. There was no brochure that outlined the ins and out of the process. Your brain worked overtime to disguise clenched jaws and tight fists without any compensation.

On the surface, everything appeared smooth and stonelike. Beneath, lied the hot white anger. That type of anger was something no one wanted to intentionally claim; it was an orphan. It builds and builds and builds until you cannot see through it. You’re blinded, you’re revengeful.

“Yeah.” Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. He teetered on the balls of his feet and toes with his bottom lip caged between his teeth. He was debating on what to say next, and Genevieve wished it would be something short and quick. She wanted him to say a casual goodbye that was heard between strangers in a coffee shop or book store. Something that didn’t make her want to burst into a river of tears. “One more thing.”

“Hm?”

“Nice shirt.” There was a quirk to one side of his mouth where a dimple had coined itself on his cheek. It was an innocent compliment. Something a friend might say to another. Before she could give a reply, he had turned around and broken into a light jog.

Genevieve watched his figure become muddy until the darkness hid him completely. It was an odd thing to say, her appearance was something she could give less of a shit about at five in the morning. She had literally gotten out in the clothes she slept in.

Genevieve brushed his words off. She wanted a dry goodbye and he delivered. It was nothing more.

Without thinking twice, she pushed the doors open and warmth from inside greeted her. The pub remained looking the same since she had walked in with her two best mates three years before. It was a hole in the wall, fixed in between a thrifting and convenience store. It littered with mismatched chairs and alcohol stains, a pool table and dart boards lined the further corner, and a random sports channel glowed on the box TV. Niall’s blond hair was easily spotted; it laid on the century old cherry wood bar. The posture his back was slumped on the stool insured neck cramps.

The doors behind the bar came swinging open as the bells above chimed of her entrance. A rag rested on his shoulder and he wore a well loved band shirt from his touring days. For someone who was found frowning on most days, Ted beamed a smile at Genevieve.

“Good! You’re here!” His shoulders dropped in relief as she made her way closer to her friend. “He’s been miserable.”

“Gen? Is that you?” Niall grumbled from his position. “Oh, shut it, Ted. You’re giving me no option but to take my money elsewhere,” Niall slurred as he lifted his head off the wood. There were lines indented on his cheek from his possible snooze.

“Those are empty words.” Ted rolled his eyes easily and used his rag to clean up the surface that Niall previously occupied.

“You know what else is empty, Theodore? This glass!” It rattled against the countertop when Niall dramatically set it down.

Ted’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, crinkles lining the corners of his eyes. “I’m not pouring you another drop, mate.”

“Who said it was for me? Have you seen Gen? She looks proper in need of a few.”

With a deep sigh, Genevieve took the stool beside Niall. Her head slowly turned to scan the pub. A place that was the heart of loud laughter and cheers was dimmed down since they were the only ones. With her elbows propped up on the counter, she pressed her index fingers to her temples.

“You do look a bit poorly. Under the weather?”

“No, not at the moment,” she sighed.

“Well, you look like shit,” Niall blurted.

“Thanks, Niall, really.” Genevieve glared with a frown. “Remind me to never do a kind thing for you ever again. Sorry I wasn’t in full glam when you called at ass crack of dawn.”

“Did you see a ghost or something? You look sick.” Niall squinted his eyes and pinched her cheek between his thumb and index finger. It was rather quickly slapped away with a snarl. “Ouch!”

“Nothing a pint can’t cure.” A tall glass slid in front of Genevieve. Condensation dripped and pooled on the counter. The frothy foam rested on top and sat at the rim without tipping over. “On the house.”

A Stella didn’t sound like a bad idea to Genevieve. She felt like she deserved one. After all, two encounters with the person she disliked the most was beginning to become exhausting. The car keys weighed down in her pocket, her bones ached and her temples pulsed. A tired yawn stretched her face as the drink laid rested on the cherry wood.

Niall scoffed as Genevieve stared at the drink for a moment too long. “If you don’t take it, I will!”

His fingers crept to grasp the glass, and Genevieve batted his greedy hands away. “Paws off, Niall.”

A cold drink couldn’t hurt, she decided. The first sip eased the tense muscles in her shoulders. Niall found a basket of chips to pick at in the meantime. He probably ordered them to soak up his alcohol intake.

Genevieve could hear Ted in the kitchen. The shifting of pots and pans meant that he was officially closing up for the night. She thought the least she could do was flip the remaining barstools on the counter.

In the two seconds that she had abandoned her glass, she had turned to see Niall gulping like fish.

“No more!” He made a strangled sound as the rim was pulled from his lips. “Don’t need your puke in my car.”

Genevieve threw back what was left of the drink. “You could just pull the window down and I’ll mind me business.”

Genevieve squinted her eyes to catch a better look at Niall and she noticed he was turning a few shades greener. He had on a dopey grin and his eyes were almost shut. Niall became whiny when he got sick, and if Genevieve were to let that happen in the pub there would be no chance of him leaving.

“How about we get you to an actual sink, yeah?”

With an arm thrown over her shoulder and Niall almost near collapsing on her, she yelled a farewell to Ted. He was more preoccupied with rubbing the stove clean but he got the message, yelling muffled goodbye of his own.

The car parked across the street never felt further away. Niall was in his own world, mumbling some drunk words into her hair. Genevieve caught some that thanked her for taking care of him. She took each step slowly.

Getting Niall into the passenger seat was a process, one she thought she had got down pat. She had done everything as planned, put his head to the right, made sure he had enough room to stretch his legs and of course, double checked to see if he had his phone and wallet on him. Apparently, this was taking too long and Niall reached over to slam the door shut.

Genevieve had jumped back just in time that no fingers were caught between doors. She sighed in relief before shooting a glare at Niall. He looked at the fabric that stretched from her stomach. “Oops?”

Genevieve rolled her eyes at Niall, who burst into giggles because it turned out everything was more hilarious at 5:00 a.m. She tugged at the material.

It was old and ratty. It was two sizes too big and hung off her frame, there were stains, holes, some she never remembered putting in herself. It took her a moment, with the fabric bunched between her digits, the gears in her brain set into place. The sharp intake of breath hit the back of her throat and the air on the street suddenly froze.

***

October 27, 2019

“It’s stupid, Gen.” The clicking of a game controller didn’t halt. The animated character on the screen ran towards a glowing torch. Jonah adjusted the headpiece he had on over his ears, probably muting himself so the other kids wouldn’t hear Genevieve lecture him. Beside him sat a bowl of finished popcorn on the sofa, like his player two, and unpopped kernels rattled every time he enthusiastically surged towards the TV screen.

“This is due in two days, Jonah,” Genevieve emphasized. She had unzipped his backpack. His agenda was hard to read, his chicken scratch writing almost made Genevieve mistake a significant date for scribbles. It was for his English class, something that he had yet to mention, which Genevieve found odd because he always told her about his school work. Okay, it was more like Genevieve made sure he told her, but same thing regardless. “How are you planning on starting and editing and finishing it?”

She knew better than to talk to boys in the middle of a game. There was no use. Her experience regarding it only went one way, everything went in one ear and out the other. It was fascinating, really; their eyes would glaze over and for a short ten minutes the real world wouldn’t exist. They would become so immersed in whatever universe was in front of them. It had been once explained to Genevieve as almost the same thing as reading a good book, but with the exception that the player was put in charge of the main character’s decisions.

His tongue poked out at the side and the Playstation keys were innocent victims to his quick jabs. His shoulders deflated when the message on the screen informed him of the scoreboard. He grumbled something under his breath before his miniature joystick highlighted the option to opt for another round. “I’ll edit it while I’m writing it.” He shrugged mindlessly.

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.”

“What’s up with you? You usually love finishing your assignments for Mrs. Yu’s class.”

“Look how stupid the prompt is,” Jonah grumbled. Genevieve’s fingers were already pulling out a crumpled rubric and pressing it flat so it stayed without folding in on itself. Eyes scanned the short blurb of instructions which Jonah soon summarized. “Pick a month and personify it. What type of pretentious—”

“I think it’s very neat. Creative. Have you selected a month yet?”

“Sure.” His flat tone said otherwise.

Genevieve rolled her eyes at his antics. “If you don’t spend enough time on this, she will give you an easy fifty. That will bring down your average and universities look at that. What will you do then?”

She reached over to the table to take a sip from her water bottle.

The Smalls residence was the same layout when compared to her flat, so it didn’t take long to get familiar to it. Granted, it was more furnished and had Jonah’s gaming consoles already hooked up to use. The latter being the deciding factor of Jonah’s executive decision to procrastinate his work for another week. Usually, Jonah would pop in after school to Genevieve’s, but she had just returned from a shift at the diner and his door was cracked ajar.

Like many days, his father left for the construction site and wouldn’t be back until after dinner, and the only appliance Jonah knew how to use was a microwave. Genevieve had some food which Walter packed for her and it was more than enough to share with a growing boy. His diet was worse than hers. He could go weeks on Pop Tarts and Twizzlers from his cafeteria vending machine. Plus, he wasn’t bad company to have around.

“Easy. Play the dead mum card. Works like a charm.”

Genevieve spluttered the water out, coughing since it had gone down the wrong tube.

“Jonah!”

Her jaw went slack and her eyes widened, a slight worry arose. She wasn’t well versed on the ins and outs of parenting—she preferred to see him as a younger sibling— or child trauma, but even she had a hunch that there was something troubling and incredibly off about the way he had referred to the passing of his mother so nonchalantly.

“What?” Jonah asked, dumbfounded.

“You can’t just say stuff like that!”

“‘Course I can. You have no idea the amount of pity and sympathy they throw at your feet. At first, I despised it, because obviously I wasn’t a knocked over puppy like they were making me out to be.” His character on the screen jumped to deflect an obstacle. A triumph smile was the direct result. “But then, I was like what the hell, you know? Like if it’s there already, why not play my cards right and score some sort of advantage from it?”

Genevieve blinked. She tilted her head to attempt understanding his analogy.

“Well, that sure is one way to look at it,” she said after a short pause. “But I am not gonna let you do that to Mrs. Yu. Something tells me you’ve already done it one too many times.”

He paused his game and finally turned to her, giving her more than his side profile at last. A hellish grin split his face. “How else do you think I got a month extension on that book report and a perfect score on our last quiz?”

“I don’t know… I had assumed hard work and honesty?”

“Wake up, Gen! This is the real world and the rules are different in this game!”

“Alright, bud, you’re cut off from this game.” Genevieve pushed the power button on the TV remote that laid limply to her right. The screen became black with a click. Jonah’s back hit the backrest of the sofa, the bouncy cushion slightly propelled him further before absorbing his weight. “Let’s at least get started on a rough copy, how does that sound?”

He groaned with his head tilted back and eyes shut. “Excruciating, torturous, maybe illegal.”

“I’m asking you to get a start on your project, not abducting you.” His pace to grab the rest of his belongings from the table two meters away from him could rival a snail. “Now, do you have a month in mind?”

“I was thinking maybe like February, December, or even October.” He opened an empty page in his notebook and clicked the top of his mechanical pencil to give away some lead. “Because, like, it will be easy to build a character off them because they all have some sort of festive holiday thing to them.”

“That’s a great start. But don’t you think it’s a bit expected? It is a creative piece, so let’s maybe brainstorm something out of the box. Try picking a month that doesn’t have a holiday attached to it.”

He sighed deeply through his nose. The thought of putting in a smidge bit of effort was like pulling teeth.

Jonah had started to doodle in the margins. He drew three tallies, evenly spread, and added another row of them. He then connected them in a way which Genevieve recognizes to be the symbol on a superhero’s chest.

“August?”

Genevieve swallowed a bug.

“Why did you pick that? What significance does it have to you?” Genevieve doesn’t miss a beat, it aided to mask her surprise.

“Well, I don’t know!” He throws his hands up exasperatedly. “You said pick one, so I did.” He pointed out, his tone reminded Genevieve of how a middle schooler says “duh”.

“Come on. Think a bit.”

“It’s like... sort of like the last month of summer and it brings in fall. Which is the season where we witness life slip away, but barely because it happens so slowly.”

Genevieve’s heart swells for two reasons. Jonah was a bright kid, well beyond his age. It was something he hid and purposefully tried his utmost best not to let shine through. Genevieve had guessed the reason behind his reluctance was mainly because Jonah was at that age where he just wanted to fit in and not stand out like a sore thumb. But every once in a blue moon, he would slip up. When he allowed himself to think out loud, his ideas lined in a way where it wasn’t just the tip of the iceberg anymore. The depth gave away his brilliance.

The first time Genevieve was left speechless by him was when he analyzed one of his favourite comic book characters with an intensity that put the burning sun to shame. Then again when he asked her to edit his essay on a world issue. And once more when he asked her how to approach a girl in his science class that he clearly fancied. Genevieve tried to define this tendency of his as a recurring variable in Jonah’s equation.

In many more ways than one, August held an importance like no other to Genevieve. It was a month that was easily overlooked because it was caught in a war for attention between the summer months and upcoming winter holidays. Its propinquity to strong competition was something that made it easy to forget. If it was a person, she was sure it would be a quiet boy around her age. Probably with a penchant for befriending girls and breaking hearts so slowly that you don’t even know it’s happening.

Genevieve hummed in agreement with Jonah.

“Go on.”

“Let’s say if I were to go with this month, I wouldn’t focus on death because that would be something colder, like December or January or like the first snowfall.” His pencil sounded against his notebook. A string of notes were effortlessly coming together as Jonah continued. He suddenly stopped writing and his face scrunched in thought as he stared at the blank TV screen with as much focus that could convince you it was on. “I think August is knowing you’re losing someone or something without the assurance of finding them again... and letting it deliberately happen.”

“Isn’t that almost death?” Genevieve raised a brow.

“Almost, but not quite.” He tapped his pencil to the metal like coils that ran down the side. “August is loss, parting away. You know, something along the lines of donating old clothes, a friend becoming a stranger, even placing car keys somewhere different.”

Genevieve knew exactly what he was talking about. She couldn’t really describe the feeling of losing a friend in words with sharp precision. It was the same as repeating a word again and again until it came to the point you deluded yourself into thinking it belongs to another language completely.

Jonah peered up, awaiting a response or another prompt to further his development. Instead, Genevieve smiled sadly and shakes her head.

“What?!”

“Nothing.” She laughed softly, a bit winded.

There was just something about him that was light years ahead. Something so pure and good and applaudable that made you think about the character that so many adults lacked and how it was sitting in front of you in a corked up bottle of a preteen boy. He had lost his mother, his father wasn’t around, he didn’t have many friends at school, and he picked the month of August. He had hit the nail on what it was so eloquently that Genevieve could burst into tears. But she refrained, instead opted to narrow her eyes jokingly his way.

“You’re just too smart for your own good, is all.”

That night she went to sleep thinking about August.

How he probably wore wrinkled shirts so effortlessly, with his hair in a gentle disarray. People would make a note to comment on his ridiculously long eyelashes, but she favoured his eyes. They were round and shiny and reminded her of a cloudy marble, the colour of slate. He was charming but had an air of coyness about him that was inviting and deliberate. With skin the colour of oat and a smile like rain, it came or it didn't, he was a knockout. She hypothesized the variable that contributed to his allure had less to do with his looks and more with how he made you feel.

He made you feel wanted, he made you feel like you were someone.

***

October 31, 2016

It didn’t take long for Genevieve to spot him, his back was slouched against the red brick wall of a tall building. A pair of old wayfarers sat on the bridge of his nose and his arms pretzeled over his chest easily. His jaw went slack then tight, this pattern repeated like clockwork until Genevieve got close enough to notice he was working a piece of gum lazily. With his head tilted to the sky and one leg crossed over the other, he was imitating textbook boredom.

“Do you have it?” Dried leaves crunched beneath the sole of his boots as he unravelled his legs and stood up straighter than before as Genevieve’s figure approached near. She could tell he was raising his brows, but they didn’t make an appearance, still hidden behind his frames.

“Yeah.” Genevieve dipped her index finger and thumb to the front right side pocket of her jeans. It took some wiggling to pluck out a piece of metal, smooth on one side and teeth jagged on the other. The metal was warm when dropped into his open palm. “Why the sudden need for it? Have you finally taken up my advice on actually locking your doors yet?”

It was natural for him to give Genevieve a spare key, a strategy that had served him well on multiple occasions. He had lost his more than once within the span of the first two months of getting his flat. This habit had come to a point that recovery was not an option; he preferred to keep his door unlocked anyway. Genevieve pointed out it was a safety hazard, but he liked to call it being efficient. In between locking himself out or forgetting his own key, Genevieve was a dependable solution.

“Not quite, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” She had seen his long black eyelashes hit the inside of his sunglasses, a clear indicator of him rolling his eyes. “I need it for a friend. He doesn’t have a place to stay for a while, and I offered the couch. Are you done with your lectures for the day?”

“I’m afraid not. Got one more and I’m free,” Genevieve sighed defeatedly. She shifted her bag from her right shoulder to the left. Today, she only had her laptop and one textbook, but the strap of her bag still created red dents on her shoulders from the weight. “Did you end up going to your tutorial?”

He gave her a look that was enough of an answer. His glasses rose on his face as a result of him scrunching his nose up in disgust. The tips of his mouth pulled downwards as sourness glazed his features.

“If it’s before noon, I’m not going; you know this, Genny.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his finger. “Can I tempt you to skip by offering the first round at The Cabinet?”

“It’s like…” Genevieve glanced at her wrist watch. “One.”

“I’m not hearing a no.” He grinned, a smile pressed deeply into his face. “Come on, Gen! You’ll get to meet my pal too. I think you’ll get along really well. And Ted is offering half off today. It’s a win-win. What could be more important than good company?”

“Dynamic Systems Differential Equations, unfortunately.” The course name was a mouthful and her dull tone was enough insight into what it was like.

“That sounds like a migraine.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” She laughed sans humour already picturing the formulas needed for her practice problems. “Speaking of migraines, what are we doing as costumes for Hannah Morton’s party?”

He squinted his eyes and paused for a moment. Migraine Morton was a nickname that stuck onto the bottom of your sneaker like chewing gum. “Is that tonight?”

“Well it is the thirty-first of October.” Her arms stretched to gesture towards the building she had exited from. “Do the carved pumpkins and the stick on ghost figures not make that obvious enough?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” He winced in reply to her previous question. A fingernail scratched at the corner of his forehead. “I was thinking of piggybacking off whatever you’re dressed as.”

Genevieve’s brows creased and her head tilted. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re Frankenstein, I’ll be the doctor.” He pointed to Genevieve and then to himself. “Bonnie, Clyde. Sherlock, Watson.”

“You want to go coordinating? Isn’t that a bit…”

“What?” He prompted with a laugh spluttering from his lips. It was fresh and bright, and Genevieve didn’t know exactly when it would stop sounding like this. He had amusement glittering in his gaze, there was a youthfulness about him that was so prominent and bold. He leaned closer. “Are you too cool to go coordinating now? Don’t tell me you can’t sit beside me at the lunch table too.”

It was ironic because they both knew Genevieve had always chose him to split her fruit roll-up candy since pre-school. In return, he would never pick up the red smarties whenever they shared a pack because those were her favourite, despite the number of times you told her the colour doesn’t affect the taste.

“I don’t know, a bit coupley? I mean, it worked well when we were eight. Would you think Hannah would mind?”

To this, he scoffed.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Why would she?”

“She’s clearly into you, like a lot, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that. And I hear she’s going around saying that she’s your girlfriend.”

He closed his eyes gently and breathes out a sigh. “She’s not my—”

“I know that! You know that! But does she?”

His phone buzzed and the question hung in the air until his fingers stopped their dance on the screen. He looked over her shoulder as if waiting for someone.

“Doesn’t matter, she will soon enough.” He shrugged, his voice was distracted and far away. And that was one thing about him that Genevieve couldn’t shake off no matter how hard she tried. He broke hearts knowingly, and did it anyway. “What time do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’m done with class at five. I’ll have to stop by Party City at six, then do my modules so that will take me till nine, then I—” Rolling tires sounded loudly against the pavement as they approached behind her. The closer they got, the less time she had to finish her train of thought. The radio was a few notches down from its max setting.

“Be ready at nine. No later.” He gripped her shoulders with both hands, brought her close and pressed a messy kiss against her hair. He smelled of cigarettes and toothpaste and beer.

“No, I won’t be, I have to do my laundry and—”

“Great. Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

And he was gone. He opened and shut the passenger side of the beat up Honda Civic in two seconds. The driver was familiar to Genevieve, it was another blonde, not Hannah, with thick eyeliner. She was a regular turn up at every monotonous party thrown each weekend. She had seen her get too close to him on more than one instance. He convinced Genevieve to poke in at a few, but the scene was like a broken record and her lack of interest dwindled in them too quickly.

It once even prompted her to bring her textbook to do practice problems to keep her from falling asleep as drunk students lit up a joint around her. Every once in a while he would trap grey smoke in his cheeks and blow it directly on her face to elicit a scowl, something he found beyond hilarious when his inhibitions weren’t intact.

The girl’s hair was knotted and she had a less than pleased demeanour, probably nursing a hangover of her own. She stomped her foot down on the gas. He didn’t even have his seatbelt done before their bodies lurched backwards and the car zoomed out from the parking lot of the mathematical sciences department building. The radio became only a faint sound away the longer Genevieve stood there.

By the time she got to Party City, the student working behind the counter gave her an apologetic look. All the decent costumes were sold out. He led her to the back of the store where the remaining costumes were kept. Being a university student meant she couldn’t break the bank for something so trivial. In the plastic bin lied a pair of fangs and a deflated witches hat that had a tear near the rim. There were masks, but she would be better off by taking a paintbrush to her face.

She sighed deeply, her lips pursing in thought. It was obvious her plans of coordinating were a dream far away. That was until she turned around.

A long hat cowered in the corner. It had thick red and white stripes, she pictured it with eyeliner drawn whiskers and a cat ear headband from last year. Maybe even a red bow around her neck. What really sealed the deal for her was the red shirt hung on a hanger right above it. It had a white circle right in the dead centre. The font within the circle was a recognizable outfit from a famous children’s book character. Bonnie and Clyde, Sherlock and Watson, and now Cat in the Hat and Thing 1.

The relief that came along with not trying to maneuver creating an outfit at home was enough to get Genevieve to run to the till. Arts and crafts were not her strongest suits.

The same guy’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at her quick decision making. He shut his latest issue of Men’s Healthy Living and leaned his weight off his elbow. He scanned the items and Genevieve handed him the crisp bill. Before he could finalize the sale, Genevieve thought back to the couch friend that would be accompanying them tonight. Did he have a costume? Inferring from the fact that he didn’t have a roof of his own, a lousy Halloween costume was the least of his worries. But Genevieve found her feet trailing back towards the shop and grabbing the shirt that said Thing 2. The guy added it to her final bill and packed her belongings in a black plastic bag.

He was late and Genevieve was thankful that her laundry was dry and folded neatly.

---

Okay, I think I’m done introducing the main characters. We have quite the cast list, don’t we?

Let me know what u think! I’d love to hear your favourite parts and predictions!

Thank you eriza @booksncoffee for the banner!

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas @adoremp3 @haaaaaaarrry @drivingmekiwi @at-least-im-1 Ayesha and Hamna! Without them, this would be a jumble of fucked up grammar bc I write at 3am. If you want to beta, shoot me a message!

Tag list: @infinitiae @sortaanonymous @sydneysuit @wonderonrepeat @confusedkiwifan @mylifeisatoilet @awomanindeniall @guccikingstyles @verorax @stylesfics-xx @stylishmuser @at-least-im-1 @mellamolayla @thursday-iminlove @kizsyou @brassharry @kizsyou @thursday-iminlove @blue-eyes-freckles-and-a-smile @Hollydays @la-peonia

#1dff #1dff au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x ofc #harry styles fanfiction #writing #ylsg2 #pls lmk what yall thought of this??

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aamccarthy · 5 years

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Lucifer and Thomas - The Neighbour

I finished chapter 3 last night at 1.30am and wanted to keep writing, but had work. I’ve now just finished chapter 4.

https://www.wattpad.com/729388720-lucifer-and-thomas-the-neighbour

This time we are delving into the background of Lucifer and we end up meeting some new characters.

Enjoy!

Lucifer and Thomas Master List

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/186855778-lucifer-and-thomas

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

--------

“OK, OK, OK.” Lucifer held up his hands, standing in the playground in child form and quickly formed a T with his hands, “Time. Time. I’m done. I’m spent.” He collapsed onto his back, wheezing.

Thomas stood over him and tilted his head, “You’re really unfit.”

“Kid, please. I’m an old man.” Lucifer threw his hand over his eyes as he attempted to catch his breath. The damn kid was a freaking machine. He just could go, go, go. What was he? Did kids normally have this much energy?

“You’re not old. You’re the same age as me.” Thomas laid down on the ground beside him, staring up at the clouds. “Aren’t you?”

“Physically yes, mentally no.”

“I dunno what that means.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to reply then sighed, “Don’t worry about it.” He took a few more deep breaths then sat up, his eyes narrowed as he noticed that while they had been playing, a few of the doorsteps on the street now had the five-pointed insignia. “Your mother is probably wondering where you are. We should head back.” He stood up, brushing off the dirt from his black cargo shorts. He held his hand out to Thomas, offering to pull the boy up.

Thomas stared at his hand for a moment, not moving.

“Coming?” Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow.

Thomas reached out and grasped his hand tightly, then smiled as Lucifer pulled him to his feet. He walked slowly behind Lucifer, a small grin on his face. Lucifer glanced back at the boy, as memories of being offered a hand then being dropped or slapped filtered across his mind. He frowned at the memories, feeling a surge of anger going through him. Part of him wished that Thomas had asked him for revenge. It would have been so, so sweet.

They reached Thomas’ house and the brown-haired boy walked inside. “Are you gonna stay and play?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Nah. I gotta sort out some things. Say Thanks to your mother for me. She’s a good lady.”

Thomas paused, about to close the door, “You’ll come back, right?”

“Of course.” Lucifer reached forward and rubbed the boys head, messing up his hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“OK!” Thomas smiled brightly, his eyes sparkling. “It’s a promise!”

With that Lucifer gave a quick wave and walked down the street, turning the corner. He looked back at the house and raised two fingers, pointing at the boy’s house, muttering an incantation under his breath. A golden glow enclosed the house, forming a protective layer over it, an anti-demon shield. Satisfied, Lucifer glanced around the street then stomped his foot twice, before disappearing in a wisp of smoke.

“So that’s the story. I need you to become human for me.” Lucifer was sprawled out on a red chair topped with skulls and bones in his half man-half goat form. His legs were crossed and he swung one of his cloven hooves back and forth as he chewed on a bone absent mindedly. He was back in Hell and talking with one of his Generals, having just explained the reason for his absence and his new found plan.

“You gotta be fucking with me.” A man with long black hair shook his head, staring at Lucifer’s golden eyes with his own icy blue. From his back flexed six long black wings.

“Come ooooon.” Lucifer rolled his head backwards, staring at the man upside-down. “It’ll be fun.”

“Lucifer. I know you.” The man sighed, placing his face in his hand. “You’re idea of ‘fun’ was to storm the Second Sphere of Heaven because the Dominion’s light orbs looked ‘cool’ and you wanted one.”

“Yeeeah? And? Wasn’t that fun?” Lucifer grinned.

“Having arrows and spears hailing down on me from Heaven is not my idea of ‘fun’.” The man frowned in response, his icy blue eyes glowering.

“Leeevviiiii.”

“No.”

“Come ooonnnn.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Argh! Aren’t you bored day in, day out here, Leviathan?” Lucifer sat upright, resting his arm on the chair, tapping it impatiently.

“Not really, no.” Leviathan replied, rolling his eyes.

“Hmph.” Lucifer frowned then threw the mini Pandora’s box at Leviathan. He caught it immediately. “What about this?”

Leviathan rolled the box over in his hands, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the box, running his fingers over the human engravings. “Where did you get this?” It was definitely a Pandora’s Box. Not the original of course, that was sealed in the first lake on the Ninth Circle of Hell, but it was definitely a version of one.

“That kid had it under his tree.” Lucifer rested his chin on his palm, eying Leviathan. “Whoever put it there intended for him to open it. It definitely wasn’t there the night before.”

“How do you know that?”

Lucifer waved off the question, pushing the thoughts of him digging through the presents in glee on Christmas Eve to the back of his mind, “Intuition.”

“Uh huh.” Leviathan raised an eyebrow, not believing him.

“Regardless, some shit is going down up there, and I need you, my right hand man beside me incase the shit really hits the fan.” Lucifer stood up, clapping Leviathan on the shoulder.

“I don’t get why I have to pretend to be a human though.”

“It’s alllll undercover. C’mon. Kick back, chillax! Have some fun!” Lucifer grinned and slapped his back before he walked out of the room, leaving Leviathan there shaking his head in disbelief.

“You and your fucking ‘fun’.” Leviathan muttered under his breath, knowing that he was being dragged into a horrible plan.

“Why is it… Urgh. So… Bright.” Leviathan half glared and half squinted as he looked around. The pair stood in a park, both in human form.

“Well, we don’t exactly have a Sun in Hell, now do we?” Lucifer was back in his child form, and Leviathan’s jaw dropped.

“What. The. Fuck.” A huge grin split across his face, “This is amazing!” He broke into laughter, having only just noticed Lucifer’s tiny form.

“Shut it.” Lucifer’s child-like voice growled.

“Are you fucking serious?” Leviathan stood there, merriment clear on his face; he too was in human form but as an adult male in his late 20s; his hair was tied back in a low ponytail, his wings now gone. He wore a long black jacket with black jeans, and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “This is fucking great.” He stared down beside him at the 4-and-a-half foot mini Satan. Leviathan grabbed his belly, howling in laughter.

“I swear to Father, if you don’t shut it, I will set fire to you in your sleep.”

“Holy shit, hahahahaha.” Leviathan continued to laugh, tears streaming down his face, “You are so fucking cute and tin- OOF!”

Lucifer had stood in front of Leviathan and punched him in the balls.

“Oh, fuck me.” Tears were in Leviathan’s eyes as he curled over, “I forgot how weak mortals were.” He collapsed on the ground, cradling his groin.

“I’m leaving.” Lucifer snapped and stalked off, walking down the street towards a vacant block.

“Sire! I’m sorry!” Leviathan chased after him, half limping, still clutching at his groin.

Lucifer ignored him and stood in front of the block of land, placing his hands out in front of him, closing his eyes. Within moments a surge of blue and white flames tore through the land and from it emerged a simple single storey home. The walls were painted black and the gutter and beams, a vibrant red.

A low whistle was heard behind him. Lucifer opened his eyes and looked over at Leviathan who was surveying the house. “You know, I sometimes forget that you’re not just capable of destruction, but you used to be an Angel of Creation too.”

Lucifer pursed his lips at that comment, ignoring him as he walked inside the house. The inside was unassuming, looking like any normal dwelling. In the centre of the room was a round table and Lucifer walked up to it, climbing onto the chair. Leviathan bit his lip, trying not to smile.

“Alright, so let’s go over plan again.” He narrowed his eyes and waved his hand over the table and a transparent map appeared, dotted with blue glowing lights. “The kid’s house is here, and we are two blocks away over here.” He pointed and two gold squares lit up, “These blue lights are the Demon Summoning Circles I mentioned to you this morning. When I first arrived, I only saw the odd one here and there, but now they are starting to appear everywhere. But,” he waved his hand again, zooming in on the street that Thomas lived on, “for some reason, there seems to be a concentration of Demonic power in this street. Our aim is to lay low, blend in with the humans and see if we can catch the being behind all this.”

Leviathan shook his head, “You left Hell, last night at what? About 11pm Earth Time…? It’s only 6pm now and all this?” He waved his hand over the map at the blue lights, “This doesn’t happen overnight. This looks like it was planned. It takes a mid-ranking demon, something like 2 or 3 weeks to create a Summon Circle. You have at least 20 within a block’s radius of us. That would require an insane amount of Essence to create that many Summons. And yet, not have a single General detect it? Surely even the Angels from the First Sphere would have noticed.” Leviathan plonked himself down in the chair, running his fingers through his hair in thought.

“Heaven hasn’t interfered at all.” Lucifer mused, tapping on the table, “Which means one of two things, either our Almighty Father doesn’t give a shit about Earth anymore, or there is someone higher ranked enough that can conceal their tracks.”

“You don’t think… An Archdemon?” Lucifer shrugged his shoulders in response, not disregarding the idea, “Fuck no. Those sorry bastards are bound by contract by to each of the Nine Circles of Hell. Break the Contract, and their existence goes,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that.”

“Regardless what the reason is, I need to catch this being. Hell is my Kingdom, and demons come under my domain. Last thing I need is Daddykins coming down for a visit.” Lucifer shivered, “Urgh, that man gets under my skin.”

Leviathan nodded in agreement, their Father rarely intervened now days, but when he did, not even Lucifer and his Generals could stand up to the big man himself. “Are we gonna exterminate the Circles?”

Lucifer waved his hand in front of the table again and the map disappeared, “No. I’ve asked Berith to do that for me.” Leviathan raised his eyebrow at Lucifer’s choice.

“You know that Berith isn’t exactly… subtle, right?” Berith was one of the fallen Princes of Cherubim, originally from the First Sphere of Heaven. He was blood thirsty Fallen, with a love of war and battle. He reigned over the Seventh Circle of Hell, Violence.

“That’s what I want.” Lucifer grinned, his golden eyes glowing mischievously, “Berith can draw their attention and we proceed undetected.”

“And what about the kid?”

“Watch him, and see what happens.” Lucifer scratched at his nose, “I’ll follow him around and see if anything tries to go after him, it’ll be likely. Something already tried to slip him a Pandora’s Box, so chances are whoever is behind this will try again.”

“And I’ll play Dad and keep an eye on the neighbourhood.” Leviathan mused.

“And Berith.”

“What! No! Sire, please!”

Lucifer smirked, “You rank higher than him, surely you can pull him into line if he goes overboard.”

“That guy is fucking nuts. You know the last time I went into battle with him, the fucker set my wings on fire?”

Lucifer continued to smirk, “Not my problem.” Leviathan opened his mouth to reply but then there was the ring of a doorbell. “Right on time.” Lucifer hopped off the chair, “Come on, Dad.” He stressed the word, almost teasingly, “Someone is at the door.”

Leviathan muttered in annoyance and got up to answer the door. “Yes, who is it?” He opened the front door and before him stood a brown haired woman, with soft brown eyes.

“Mrs Wood!” Lucifer beamed.

“Hello Luce. Thank you for staying over last night.” Alice smiled back at the small boy.

Leviathan seemed to be at a loss for words, staring at the woman before him. Her soul seemed to glow from within, her brown hair was shoulder length, pretty and straight, and her skin looked soft to the touch.

“You must be Luce’s Father, it’s great to meet you.” Alice held out her hand expectantly.

Lucifer elbowed the day dreaming Leviathan and he snapped out of his daze and took her hand carefully, placing a kiss on the back of her hand, “No, the pleasure is all mine. Levi.” He bowed slightly, introducing himself.

Alice went bright red and quickly pulled her hand away. “Nice to meet you, Levi.” Lucifer snorted in amusement, “Luce left his clothes at mine, so I thought I should bring them over. I hope it isn’t too much trouble.” She handed Leviathan the bundle of clothes.

“No trouble at all! Did you want to come in?” He asked, almost begging.

“I can’t, sorry. I have to get dinner ready. But next time, perhaps?” Alice politely declined and took a step back.

“Yes… Next time.” Leviathan replied, smiling at the woman before him.

“Alright. It was nice meeting you!” She turned and waved. Lucifer waved back and once she reached the end of their driveway, he slammed the door.

“Levi.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, “Are you fucking serious?”

“Didn’t you see her? She’s a pure soul! Beautiful! I thought you only found women like that in Heaven.” He sighed in content.

Lucifer kicked him in the shin, “You’re a creeper, you know that?”

Leviathan didn’t even seem to notice, let alone care. Perhaps spending time on Earth wouldn’t be so bad afterall.

Continue to Chapter 5

#luciferandthomas #satanandthomas #luciferfiction #adventures with lucifer and a boy #writing #fiction #lucifer and thomas #leviathan #lucifer

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galfridus1 · 6 years

Note

CONGRATULATION for your 500 followers and taking all the time for all the requests (I love your writing style)^-^ Can you please write about Zeldris/Gelda in the modern au with number 6

Thank you so much! Really appreciate the ask and I hope you like this. Sorry it’s been a long time coming.

This is an attempt to recreate the river scene from Dorothy Sayers’ ‘Gaudy Night’. It doesn’t do it justice, but hopefully it’s an enjoyable read anyway. @maybeishouldwait has written a follow-on fic so do give that read too. Thanks Beth :)

***

Exams were over. Gelda knew she should be happy about this but she just felt deflated. All that effort, all the build up and for what? An uncertain future, oppressive summer heat and too much time to do nothing.

“Enjoy yourself!” her friend Ren had said. “Just relax!” But how could she? Results would not be out for several weeks and it was impossible until then to think of anything else. So she had taken to sitting in her room, back pressed to the sun shining through the window, playing endless rounds of Tetris and watching Netflix on a loop in a bid to forget as she counted down the days until her impending doom.

That is until he had knocked on the door.

“You’ll turn into a vampire at this rate! You need the sun. Come on, let’s go on the river!”

“Why?” Gelda asked, one eyebrow raised as she looked closely at Zeldris. Did the man never give up? It had been nearly three years since they had first met, and a similar amount of time since she had first declined his romantic advances, and yet here he was, eyes bright and expectant as ever. Obviously rejection did not dampen his spirits.

“This is Oxford! It’s tradition,” he insisted, a slight smile curving his lips. “Everyone has to do this at least once before they graduate. You are about to graduate. Ergo, you should give this a try.”

“If we’re talking tradition, I don’t see you wearing a boater,” Gelda complained, reluctantly allowing her own smile to show.

“Perish the thought!” Zeldris replied in mock horror. “A straw hat really wouldn’t suit the aesthetic. Anyway, say you’ll come. You can’t stay in here until results are out. Whether or not you get you a first has been decided and nothing will change it. So you might as well forget your degree for a bit.”

“Easy for you to say,” Gelda muttered. There was no way Zeldris would walk away with anything other than a first class degree, and the cocky bastard knew it. In their second year they had been tutorial partners and Gelda had got to experience how brilliant a scholar he was for herself. It had been good for her really; refusing to let him and his all-knowing smirk get the upper hand she had worked her socks off, eventually becoming as impressive as he, at least in the field of Cold War politics and culture.

“Oh alright!” she relented, “but I’m not punting or we’ll end up stuck in the bank.”

“Of course not!” He looked shocked. “I would never have expected you to. The idea is for you to look decorous while I do the work.”

“And of course that’s not the slightest bit sexist…” Gelda said smoothly, enjoying the look of discomfort that crossed his face in response. “Fine, but if you fall in I warn you now I will laugh out loud.”

“Understood. Shall we?” With a slight sigh, Gelda followed Zeldris out of the house she shared with Ren, down the few crumbling stone stairs which led to the road and so towards the river. It was scorching hot, the air fetid and still with no sign of breeze, the sweet smell of the roses from the neighbouring college gardens almost overpowering. People were lounging around or eating melting ice creams, practically wilting in the heat of the sun but Zeldris didn’t seem to care. He strode on at a determined pace, eyes fixed forwards.

At last they reached the boathouse. Gelda had expected the place to be bustling, but to her surprise there were plenty of the narrow wooden punts ready for hire and not too many people in the queue ahead of them. Too hot, she supposed; the river was on the exposed side and Gelda wished she had brought some sunscreen. She watched a few beginners slowly edging their way downstream, bumping into the banks and giggling like crazy as they grappled with the pole used to steer and push the boats forwards. She didn’t even notice as Zeldris made the necessary arrangements, negotiating their own vehicle to the bank and then helping her in.

Lying back against the soft, red cushions, Gelda trailed her hand in the water as she watched Zeldris steer, the angle as he stood at the prow of the boat more than sufficient to show off his lithe form. With a shock she realised how adept at it he was at punting; he made it look effortless as he carefully moved the pole along the riverbed, easily navigating the boat downstream.

“Have you been practicing this?” she asked as she looked up at him, noting the line of his chest though the thin cotton shirt he wore. She smiled as his eyes flicked away from hers in obvious embarrassment. “But of course you have. Why would you do that, you idiot?”

“Only a bit,” Zeldris protested, his dark eyes cast on the shining surface of the water. He always did look adorable when he was flustered.

If we had met under different circumstances maybe we would be here now as a couple. Gelda nearly gasped out loud as the unbidden thought washed over her, and she quickly turned her head as if to observe the Botanical Gardens as they glided past, hoping sincerely that Zeldris had not caught her expression. It was maddening in a way, to find someone with whom she was so obviously compatible and for them to be off limits.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked softly and Gelda’s eyes snapped back towards him, the quizzical look on his face reminded her forcefully of just why they could not be. How could she? She still had her pride and she was not going to relinquish it now.

She paused before answering. “The first time we met actually,” she finally admitted.

“I was a cad,” he said quickly, almost too quickly, as if it were rehearsed and Gelda smiled inwardly knowing that it probably was. “I should never have asked you… I should never have presumed…”

“It’s fine. I’ll give you a pass. I probably wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you.”

“I hope that’s not true. If the college had done its job properly your innocence would have been clear from the start.” He sounded angry now, more like his usual self as he allowed his temper to show.

Gelda felt her heart beating faster and her hands clench involuntarily as she remembered the stares and the accusations. It was over an essay of all things. She had submitted her paper, hand-written as per the archaic professor’s instructions, only to be told that she was being investigated for cheating. Mael had handed it in first, a version that was practically the same as hers, almost word for word. And Mael was the college pet, his celebrated brother having completed his degree there some years before. So naturally the assumption was that she had committed the heinous sin of plagiarism.

“How did you know it wasn’t me?” she asked quietly, “before you started investigating I mean.”

Zeldris looked uncomfortable. “You… I just didn’t think you were,” he muttered his eyes staring ahead as he steered the boat around some water weeds. “And I never liked Mael. I was at school with him remember, I know he’s a sneaky…”

“But it could have been me, and yet you were so certain,” Gelda said softly. She had never asked him this before, forcing herself not to show her curiosity. But now, somehow, something felt like it had come undone, like her tongue was unlocked. She was determined at any rate to get her answer.

“Just… you don’t look like a cheater,” he spluttered and Gelda laughed out loud.

“You mean you fancied me,” she said bluntly, enjoying the blush that crept over his cheeks.

“Yes, if you like,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he fixed them back on the river. “I indicated as much at the time and I think you said something along the lines of me being a crass idiot for trying to leverage a good turn in that way. And you were right - I should have left you alone.

“It’s taken me a while to accept that I blew it,” he added more softly, “and that you will never care for me. But I’ve got there now. I won’t bother you with any of that again.” Gelda felt suddenly cold at this, the sun’s warmth bouncing off her skin rather than penetrating it as her heart squeezed unexpectedly in her chest. Now that the prospect was not on the table she perversely found she wanted it, a little bit. Breath held, she waited for him to continue, but he did not. He did not even look at her, though she could see the tension in the line of his jaw.

“Well, thank you,” she murmured, her own eyes now on the river. The bright sunlight shone on the surface, forming shifting white patterns as the boat sent slight waves forwards from the bow. “If you hadn’t thought to do that text analysis to prove I wrote the damn thing, I don’t think anyone would have believed me.”

“I’m sure it would have got sorted out eventually. I just sped things up I hope.” This was said with finality and Gelda reluctantly let the subject drop. Having avoided the subject for years, she now wanted to keep talking, wanted to hammer it home to him and herself just how cross he had made her.

After she had received an apology from the college, he had asked her out and she had obviously declined. How anyone could think that was the moment to spring that kind of proposal on someone still made her clench her teeth with frustration. She had been deeply upset by the whole experience, feeling vulnerable and exposed, her instinct to hide away from the world. The last thing she had wanted at the time was a relationship, especially with someone to whom she felt indebted and who seemed to have given no thought to the strain such an imbalance of position would have on her sanity.

They travelled in silence, through the verdant green of Christ Church Meadows, the low-hanging branches of oak near brushing their boat bringing a welcome cover of shade. It was hotter now if anything, the sun having risen in the clear blue sky and the air smelled of damp grass, the usual tang of petrol from the city streets completely absent. Much as Gelda hated to admit it he had been right; this was better than being indoors.

“This is a good place to stop for a bit,” Zeldris said cheerfully, guiding their vessel to the side of the bank before fishing about in the bag he had stowed. He handed her a bottle of water, condensation beading the dimpled plastic and Gelda drank the cool liquid gratefully, watching a few fluttering butterflies as they danced over the meadow.

“You always think of everything,” she murmured and Zeldris chuckled as he carefully lowered himself into the boat.

“I’d be a pretty poor host if I hadn’t. I brought sandwiches too,” he added passing Gelda a silver-wrapped parcel. “Watch out for the ducks though, they get a bit enthusiastic.” As if on cue, a small raft of ducks swam up to the boat, glaring up at Gelda expectantly with beady eyes. She laughed, tossing them a few bits of crust which they set to in an instant, the quacks and splashes as they fought each other for the spoils punctuating the peace.

She looked up to see Zeldris settling down with a book, noting for the first time the way his dark lashes curled slightly as his eyes scanned the page. She let her eyes follow the sharp line of his cheekbones towards the snub nose and, with a start, she realised she had needed to suppress the urge to reach out for him. Cursing herself for her stupidity, she tried to ignore the way her heart raced in her chest and her face flushed with heat. But it was no use. Gelda had always been honest, with herself at least, and there was no way she could deny how she was feeling.

Really, had this not been coming on for some time? It was he she had gone to when her application to continue her studies had been successful, conditional on this damn first class degree of course. He was the one who shared her sorrow and anger when her father had, without warning, cut off her allowance all because she had told him she wished to pursue an academic career instead of joining the family business. Terrible parents was something they had in common.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered and Zeldris looked up in surprise, the book he was holding falling into lap. “I was too harsh with you. I have been for years. Can we… can we maybe start over?” It felt as if time had frozen as they stared at one another, and Gelda was just beginning to curse her impetuousness (how could she possibly think he would still want something more after all this time) when to her absolute relief she saw the grin that spread over his face. Tentatively, he reached out a hand towards her and Gelda took it gratefully, feeling the warmth of his fingers as they laced through her own.

#nnt #prompt collab #fanfiction #gelda #zeldris #geldris

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bapdaydreams · 7 years

Text

Jongup: Date with a Bad Boy

A/N: Ok so, I ended up wrting two versions for this but I chose to post this one. Again, this turned out way longer than I planned it to be. So dear Toll Anon I hope you enjoy this and I hope it makes you feel better. ❤️

Asking you out / Concert / Jealousy

You don’t exactly know how but some how you had attracted the attention of your new neighbour, the resident bad boy, Moon Jongup.

You had just been walking back home when you had met him. The street had been quiet as you walked. It was a bit cold so you tug your jacket closer to your body and shiver a little. As you walked, you heard footsteps behind you but before you could even look back to see whom it was, you were enveloped in warmth.

It was a heavy leather jacket.

“You looked cold”

His voice had sent a chill down your spine as his hands rested on your shoulders.

And that is how you had met Jongup. You still remember the smirk he gave you as you tried to escape his hands. He had been far too close for comfort. He had eventually let you go with a laugh.

And now for whatever reason you could not get rid of him. You thought he was following you but he would remind you that he was your neighbour. He was everywhere though. You would be doing some shopping in the local store and he would be there. You would be at the café to get some work done and he would be there.

And every time he would greet you with his smirk and then offer you a different pick up line, without fail. And each time you would feel shy because he was intimidating with his hair sleeked back, leather jacket, the many earrings and that septum ring. And you had lost count at the amount of times his hair seem to change colours. One day he was blonde, looking like an angel and the next day he would have electric blue hair, looking more like the devil, out to get your soul.

But it seem like he wasn’t going to leave you until you said yes to going out on a date with him.

So you had finally agreed on a date. He said he would pick you up and take you somewhere. He would not tell you where but you got ready anyway. You wore something comfortable, as you weren’t sure where Jongup would take you.

There is a knock on your door and you expect it to be Jongup so you grab your little bag, put your shoes on before answering the door.

He was dressed in some faded blue ripped jeans, a black t-shirt with one of his many leather jacket. The many earrings still decorating his ears and the septum ring. But what was odd was the flowers he was holding.

“Hey…I didn’t know what flower you liked so I picked one of everything”, he says as he hands them to you.

You shyly take it and thank him for them.

“They are beautiful”, you say.

“So are you”, he says.

“What?” you ask feeling heat gather on your cheeks.

You look up at him but he avoids eye contact and was he blushing too? You smile shyly and thank him. You let him in for a bit as you put the flowers in a vase and then the two of you head out.

He leads you to his motorbike and you feel a little nervous as he takes a helmet out from the seat comportment. He turns to you and he smiles at you.

“You’ll be fine, I’ll drive slowly”, he says as he puts the helmet on you.

You nod awkwardly, your head feeling a little too heavy but he laughs as he puts his own helmet on. He gets on the motorbike and then looks at you. You awkwardly swing your leg over and get behind him. You gently hold his jacket and you hear him laugh.

“Better hold on tight, don’t want you flying off”, he says as he takes your hands and wraps it around his waist.

“Much better”, he says simply before he starts the engine.

You feel your heart pounding at how close he is. You pray that he doesn’t feel your heart racing against his back as your entire upper body is pressed against his back.

And as promised he drives slowly to your destination. Every once in a while he asks you if you are ok and you nod. You are much more comfortable then at the beginning so it’s not a lie. He carries on driving as you close your eyes and just take in the moment. Jongup’s sturdy back feels comforting and you are enjoying the simple drive.

Eventually the two of you stop as he brings his motorbike to park. He let’s you get off first and then he gets off before taking his helmet off. Some how his hair is still perfectly styled.

“How was that?” he asks with a smile.

“It was good, I enjoyed it”, you say and smile back at him.

He nods.

You then look around to see the beach. Your face lights up. You hadn’t been to the beach in a long time.

“I hope you don’t mind the sand and the salt water”, he says.

“No, not at all”, you say.

“Good. I just wanted to take you out on a walk anyway, nothing too fancy”, he says.

“It’s perfect”, you say with a smile.

“You are so pretty”, he blurts out when he sees you smile.

You look at him in surprise as he says it with such a relaxed tone. You feel the heat gather on your cheeks and as Jongup realised what he had said, he too blushes.

“Sorry”, he says.

“No, It’s ok…thank you”, you say and give him a shy smile.

“Shall we go for that walk?” he asks, feeling a little bit awkward.

The two of you end up walking up the little path that was separated from the sand and the ocean but the view was lovely.

There weren’t many people so it was perfect for a quiet date. It turned out that he was actually really shy. He would ask a few questions about you and just let you talk as he smiled at you.

“Do you want some ice cream?” he asks and you nod thinking it would be nice.

He goes to the ice cream van nearby and comes back with two cones. You had asked for your favourite and he had gotten the same. Your hands brushes his a little when he gives you your ice cream. You shyly thank him and he just smiles at you. The two of you carry on walking with your ice creams.

It was comfortable and you enjoyed his company. He tells you about the anime he was currently watching and you can’t help but think he was cute. He didn’t seem so intimidating like this. The two of you carry on walking and you feel his hand brush against yours. You freeze for a second but Jongup gently takes your hands and holds it.

He gives you a shy smile and you can’t help but return his smile. His hand was large and warm against yours.

“It’s getting late…I should probably take you back home”, he says as he scratches the back of his neck with his other hand.

The ice cream was long gone.

Your heart sinks as you think about how quickly the time went by, but you nod in agreement anyway. His hold tightens around your hand before he leads you back to his motorbike. The two of you stand there in the parking lot for a minute; you can hear the waves crashing on the beach as the sun has slowly started setting.

He looks at you and smiles.

“Thank you for coming along today…I enjoyed it”, he says.

“Me too…I’m glad I came”, you say shyly.

The two of you are quiet again. You just enjoy the moment. You had really enjoyed it and you hoped that his wasn’t a one-time thing. The setting sun lights his face and you can’t help but admire how good-looking he was.

He stares back at you with a small smile and only when his nose brushes against yours do you realise that he had been inching closer to you. You had a feeling that you had been inching closer to him too.

His other hand gently slides up the back of your shoulder and up your neck. His touch is gentle as his other hand is still holding onto yours. You feel your eyes slowly flutter to a close as his lips gently meets your.

His lips are soft and it fits perfectly against your own. It is a soft kiss and as the two of you pull away, he is looking at you with so much adoration in his eyes it makes you blush and you smile at him slyly.

“I hope you know that this means you are stuck with me”, he says softly.

“I’ll be happy to be stuck with you”, you say and he laughs.

He leans against his parked motorbike as you sit next to him. His hand wraps around your shoulders and pulls him right against him. You find your hand wrap around his hips and you lay your head on his shoulders.

It was the perfect date and as the two of you just sit there watching the sunset, Jongup lays another kiss on your lips.

#b.a.p #baplibrary #Moon Jongup #jongup #b.a.p x reader #b.a.p x you #b.a.p imagines #b.a.p imagine #b.a.p scenarios #b.a.p scenario #jongup x you #jongup x reader #jongup scenario #jongup scenarios #jongup imagine #jongup imagines

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kwrittink · 7 years

Text

Hidden Majesty (4)

Pairing: JEON JUNGKOOK X READER (Prince!JJK AU)

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: Language, mentions of threats, mentions of defiling

Words: 4,479

Part 3 --- Part 5

Suggested Song: Castle - Hasley

Sleep tight my little child

Here in my arms you are safe

Clean the worry of your mind

Dream with angels will you may

Sleep tight...

The old lullaby Hani used to sing faded as Y/N emerged back to conscience, eyes fluttering open to stare at a beautifully painted ceiling. A wolf and a rose. She recognized the symbol painted on gold, but wasn't able to look at it for long, since the sun was insistently warming her face.

- Oh, good thing you're awake, we were worried. - Jimin spoke, as he entered the room, his soft tone still startling her. He chuckled seeing her reaction, approaching with a tray with food, and Y/N 's stomach grumbled. When was the last time I ate?

- How long I was out? - she asked, and Jimin sat beside her on the bed, looking up as he pondered, taking some grapes from the bunch.

- About ten hours, more or less. How are you feeling? - he asked, and Y/N shurgged, hands going instantly to her moving belly. You’re okay, aren’t you baby?

- I... Did yesterday really happened? The thing about the letters, me being... - she trailed off, looking up at the knight with trembling breathing. Jimin snickered, nodding.

- As far as my understanding goes, you're the Queen of a little kigdom. But Queen nonetheless. - he said, and Y/N could feel herself getting lightheaded again. Taking a deep breath, she rose her torso from the bed, steading herself. This was terrifying. A Queen?

- This is nuts! I mean after twenty and a few years I'm suddenly to discover that I'm the daughter of a Queen that died fighting some barbaric men as I was taken away by what I thought was my harmless aunt to a neighbour kingdom over said kingdom's Queen protection only to be hunted down by her because I'm carrying her son's child? Does any of this has any fucking sense to you? - she said in a single breath, and had Jimin cackling hard at her actions.

- I swear, sometimes I think you're Jin's sister. How can you talk so much and so fast? I barely had time to understand what you said. - he snickered, wiping the tears of the corner of his eyes, that were almost invisible due to his way of smiling. Y/N sighed, courners of her mouth just a little curled up, not really wanting to laugh, but Jimin's giggles were funny to her.

- Ah, but here's the thing - Yoongi showed up on the door, Hoseok right behind him, a bright smile on his face as he spotted the woman. - Your mother, the Queen, was Queen Fae's rival on marriage. Those lovely elders told me a lot about the history of this little land, and turns out, Fae was actually pinning for your father, Y/N. - he said, and she frowned, because how could that story get even more complicated.

- Like Yoongi said, Queen Fae was in love for your father, but he actually loved your mother. There was rumors of that even after JungKook's elder brother was born. But for some reason, the story of that started to turn into a tale, and suddenly all this place was forgotten with their people in it. My guess is that Fae had something to do with it. - Hoseok explained, as he sat on the other side of the bed, handing Y/N a book. She examined it quickly, spotting the autor's name almost immediately, sticking out like a sore thumb on the front. Tales of Southern Kingdoms, from Faery Princess. Well if this isn't a unexpected nickname.

- Is this from her? I mean, "Faery"? - Y/N asked, opening the handwritten book. Woman at that time usually didn't learned how to write and weren't allowed to read - at least not on the environment Y/N was raised in -, but turns out Queen Fae was known for having been raised like a man, so she had learned how to read, write, math and fight, besides all the stuff woman also learned on their lives. Aunty Hani only taught me how to read and write. I learned how to fistfight myself, thought.

- Yes, very original of her. Turns out it just became another tale book, and people started to tell it like it wasn't a true story. Clever, if you ask me. - Jimin commented, taking the book from her hands to inspect it further.

- You know, if you had told me about the book I could have figured the whole story out in half a day. - Namjoon entered the room too, together with the other knights that were missing, but Taehyung.

- We know you are smart, but I wanted to pat myself in the back for once. Besides, I also let a lot of breadcrumbs for JungKook back at the castle, thing that I'm sure you wouldn't be able to do without breaking something. - Yoongi sassed, making Namjoon rolled his eyes.

- Wait, what do you mean with breadcrumbs ? Are we going to tell JungKook? - Y/N inquired, chest suddenly tightening. Yoongi turned to you, a smirk on his pale face, eyes twinkling with mischief.

- Oh milady, I have been planning this for a long, long while. Let's wait for Taehyung to get here, so I can explain more accurately. - he said, plopping on a chair nearby, completely relaxed.

- Might take a while, you better eat while we wait. Tae went fufill his "primitive instincts". - Seokjin said, looking away from the window he was peeking, to find the inquiring stare of all. - He went hunting for food, you know how he got after we told him to take care of Y/N. - he rolled his eyes, and they all hufffed. Y/N scoffed, pulling one of the grapes from the bunch on the tray Jimin brought, and biting into it. Will JungKook then search for me?

Yoongi never lets the keys to his room in such obvious hiding spot. JungKook frowned, after his foot kicked a stone in front of the spy's room, revealing the brass key that opened his chambers. He was looking for his team, but since they were all out - for some unknown reason - he decided to ring the only one he knew would be sleeping on his house the entire day.

- Yoongi, wake up, I need you to help me with somet... - his voice dien on his throat, as he stopped by the doorframe of Yoongi's room, seeing that said man was nowhere to be found. Weird. He thought, entering the mess of papers and random items Yoongi kept in his chamber.

What was he searching? I don't recall any orders given to him. Maybe a private research? He asked himself, picking one of the papers, which seemed to be a map.

- "Location of the mission of the wolves" - said the subtitles, a line drawn to a place marked with an "x" on the map. Mission of the Wolves? What... He wondered, looking at the other papers, asking himself what kind of job Yoongi was doing behind everyone's back. I know he's a spy and all, but we all have full trust in him. So why didn't he told me anything? He kept fumbling around, finding nonsensical notes, a grocery list - why would he do one of those? - correspondence between him and a woman called SonJi where he talked about he taking some documents from some place called... Lupino...? Wolf? And an envelope with the royal crest, which he opened, where the unmistakable writing of his mother could be read.

- I, Queen Fae, convoke all the men of my personal guard and army to go for a search of a dangerous woman, which is on the run within our kingdom. She's accused of treason and blackmail, and should be escorted back to this castle and presented to me, and only me. The name is Y/N, surname Tolouse, but may be also known as Y/N Tant...- his voice died on his throat as the words sank in and he felt suddenly out of breath. Y/N Tantalas?!

He turned around, head spinning, searching blindly for the map he just had on his hands. It kind of made sense all that cluttered paper at the moment, it had been another way of Yoongi for telling him what was going on, but not directly, since he imagined the spy couldn't do it. My mother was holding a search for Y/N, my Y/N. The story of Tantalas, the Tolouse name - which I knew, but never found source in any research that I made, on futile efforts to find royal blood on her lineage... But all this time she was a Queen! JungKook scoffed, observing the map closely this time, because surely that knight had left another clue about her.

- I think the thing you're looking for is this, my prince. - the little voice of Yoona made him turn and reach for the dagger in reflex. His widened eyes relaxed as he took in her presence, but then he frowned, noticing her way of dressing, as she wore some sort of black balloon cotton pants and same color long-sleeved blouse, feet wrapped in some sort of thick leather. And holding a sheet of almost transparent paper.

- Wh... Princess Yoona? How did you found me? - he asked, walking towards her. He noticed she had a mischievous smirk on her lips, something very different from the shy and collected expression she always had.

- Well, I may not be as good as my big brother Yoongi, but I guess I made a great job keeping an eye on you, Majesty. - she said, and he stopped looking at the sheet of thin paper - hell, he even stopped breathing - as he glanced up to the little pale face of Yoona. Oh fuck how could I be so stupid?! His mouth hanged a little open, as he looked at the perfect feminine version of Yoongi, only with long black hair, skin so white it was almost transparent and the same damn eyes, and what to say about the smirk. I mean I knew Yoongi had a kind of royal background, but to be brother of one of the Five Flowers. He scoffed.

- I can't believe this... You, sister of Yoongi? I mean I see the resemblance but... - he wondered, and Yoona chuckled, putting a hand on her waist. She had a totally different demeanor, since she didn't needed to pretend anymore in front of him.

- Half-sister, if you may. But We're really attached, he taught me a lot of things. - she admitted, and JungKook nodded slowly, still in shock somewhat. - But anyway, as my brother says, mission first, explanations later. - Yoona said, urging the prince to complete the puzzle.

- Right. So this is to be over this, and that line shows us the complete trail we have to follow to wherever they are. - he said, sighing anxiously. Yoona nodded beside him, pointing at the name on the other far corner of the pages, where random letters in both of them intercepted themselves to form a phrase.

- Go through the Dark Woods. What does this mean? - Yoona asked, and JungKook hummed, pondering.

- He maybe mean the woods that cut a small part of our country, a place where people don't go, even due the name, and because it was know for having a huge pack of wolves there. - he explained, frowning. - But according to what I read, that may be a part of the tale that was disseminated wrongly, since the Tantalas kingdom, as you read for me the other day... - he trailed off, looking over to Yoona, that smiled, lifting a napkin with a crest embroidered in gold.

- ... Is represented by a wolf and a rose. Interesting how the people mistake things huh? - she completed his thought, and he smiled back at her, sighing relieved afterwards.

- Yeah, but your brother knew that, and when that letter came for the guards, he knew where to take Y/N to. At that moment, her kingdom is the safest place for her, at least for a while. – he said, while Yoona took a bag from under Yoongi’s bed, stuffing also the dagger JungKook had left on a table nearby.

- Exactly. Once the Queen drive the King’s mind out of that matter of her army, she’ll make them search again for her. This time she knows where to find her for sure, so it will be more problematic. The issue of Y/N being Queen is going to get out eventually, and it’ll be a pretty difficult matter to handle. – Yoona reasoned, and the prince agreed, knowing that they had to leave as soon as possible.

- You’re coming with me, princess? – he asked, and Yoona turned to glance at him bewildered, saying that it was pretty obvious that she would. – Well, I don’t know, maybe to keep your façade I wondered if you’d stay and weep because I ran away to find my beloved one… - JungKook joked, and the girl rolled her eyes, a resemblance so great with her older brother that he wanted to bash himself in the face for not noticing it sooner.

- Are you kidding me? And be comforted by your mother? With all due respect, I can’t handle her telling me how she knows that I love you so dearly and that is just a matter of giving you time to fall in love with me without wanting to puke. – she complained, and JungKook laughed wholeheartedly. – I did better, packed some of your things, kept mine here, and wrote a letter to the King, telling that I had proposed to run for a romantic escapade with you this night, to “resolve pressing matters”. – Yoona crossed her arms over her chest, a smug expression on her face. JungKook thought brilliant, mainly because she had wrote to the King, not the Queen, so his word wouldn’t be contested, and his mother wouldn’t have any saying on the approbation of that.

- It’s smart, but the “pressing matters” thing grossed me out. It’s like sleeping with Yoongi… That’s why it felt so weird to even consider you as my wife. – he realized, and Yoona slapped his arm playfully as she walked by him, heading to the door.

- Don’t think I’m not grossed out too. You’re disgustingly like my brother as well, but that was the most unquestionable thing I could think of. Besides, Yoongi would probably kill you if you defiled me. – she commented, and JungKook cringed at the perspective of “defiling” Yoona, as she put it. That’s why he told me to not consume the marriage then. Well, I wouldn’t anyways so…

- Are you coming or are you going to keep wondering in how many ways my brother could make you sterile? – she mocked, and the prince scoffed, jogging after her, which was headed to the bays.

- So you are telling us that Taehyung killed one of the wolves from Tantalas’ guards and you two were almost mauled to death here? – Hoseok asked incredulous, and Taehyung nodded, running his fingers through his sweaty head, and Yoongi shrugged beside him.

- That’s what he told me. I only remember being hit on the head, and woke up on a similar room to this, with all these people asking questions about who we were. And Taehyung was there, bandaged everywhere, but still smiling content because of the girls flirting with him, while he was healing. – disclosed the spy, and Taehyung started to laugh, telling the older to shut up. Y/N just listened, not recalling any events on that around the castle, not even that JungKook had mentioned it. Well at the time we were months into our secret relationship, so we really didn’t talk that much, if you know what I mean…

- But it was just because JungKook had asked me to do some research on Y/N’s background. I think he asked Namjoon about it too, didn’t he? – Yoongi asked, and Namjoon nodded by his side.

- He asked me to study some laws, just in case Yoongi found something. He was planning to marry you since the beginning, Y/N . – the knight said, and the girl felt her eyes sting as she smiled. She knew how JungKook was stubborn and at that time, she had to be the one with her feet on the ground to tell him it wasn’t possible for them to be together, but still, he didn’t listened to her at all. Headstrong boy…

- But then when did you discovered the correlation of me and this kingdom? How can we be definitely sure about me being… Queen? – Y/N inquired, and Yoongi glanced to the archer, which was distractedly picking at the engravers on his bow.

- Oh, me? Oh yeah right we got to my part. – Taehyung breathed out, giving Y/N and the others the boxy smile he was known for. – You see, I kept coming here because of that incident, since I felt bad for have killed one of the guards. Eventually they grew fond of me, that couple of elders amongst them, and they let me explore around this land, which was small, but had so much history that it was unbelievable. Namjoon will like to walk around this place immensely – he started, looking at his friend, patting him on the arm. – Anyways, I got to the castle, and I had access to those letters. After I read it, I found that it had really weird coincidences with that story we always heard of when we were little, and when I got back to Jeon, I commented with Yoongi. After a while, we visited here again, and when our spy read the letters, he was able to put a raw draft of the whole story together. – he explained, talking in a monotone like he had rehearsed the speech. It made Y/N chuckle, but more yet, to be incredulous about the whole thing. I mean, I understand it now, but still, it’s so unreal…

- And all of this, you decided to just keep in secret for two years? Guys, we’re a team, and you should have told us something. – Hoseok scolded, but Yoongi got up his chair, breathing out tiredly.

- Yes, but happens that we couldn’t let anybody know about this. If this went to JungKook, knowing the kid he’d act right away, and then maybe Fae would have ordered Y/N to be killed at that time. If not, this place would just disappear by her command, then she wouldn’t be Queen of nothing. Do you realize how easy it would be to burn this little kingdom to the ground? So no, we couldn’t open our mouths on something that couldn’t be even real after we had sure it was legit, commander. – Yoongi gave Hoseok a tight smile, and the whole speech had made him nod, pondering. Y/N shivered, taking in the realness of those words. If this was discovered earlier, before Yoongi handled it, I don’t know if we would have come this far… She thought, looking down at her tummy, hand caressing it. Seokjin placed his hand over hers, and she looked up, to find his warm smile.

- But don’t worry Queen, now you’re safe. We’ll take care of you as we’ve been doing all this time. – he said, and this time, the tears brimming her eyes spilled, as she turned her hand over to grip his slender fingers.

- Ah, this is the pregnant woman I know. Now, now Y/N don’t cry – Jimin approached her, handing his handkerchief to wipe her tears. Yoongi walked up to her too, patting her head.

- Yes, just cry like this after JungKook gets here. That is, if him and my little sister found the instructions I left. – Yoongi commented, and she nod. Wait, little sister? At her other side, Namjoon tilted his head.

- You have a little sister? – he asked, and the spy nodded again, frowning.

- Wait a minute, is that little sister we’re talking about? The really pretty one? – Jimin interjected, and Yoongi glanced to the side, cocking an eyebrow at the knight.

- The only one I have. The other four aren’t even related to me, or Yoona, for that matter. – he stated, and Y/N blinked, wondering why the name was so familiar. The last thing I heard right before I left the castle with Hoseok was the King announcing JungKook’s engagement with…

- Lim Yoona?! Your sister Yoona is the same princess of the Five Flowers that married JungKook? Your sister? – Y/N asked, baffled, and Yoongi huffed, nodding once again, annoyed.

- So… That’s why you had me recommend her to the King, even if she’s still underage? – Seokjin asked, his face in such immense shock that his eyes were almost round with surprise.

- Do you guys think that just because I give priority to my sleep that I do things half-assed? I had to have someone inside that environment, for fuck’s sake! So of course I recommended my dear sister to marry JungKook, because I knew she at least wouldn’t be tricked into fucking him, and give me time to sort things out. – he said, and Taehyung burst into laughter with his friend’s crude statement. The others just remained silent, marveling at how brilliant Yoongi was. And what a tongue he has, sharp as his dagger’s edge.

- So now we just wait for them to get here and do what? – Hoseok asked, and Y/N wondered if he was okay with that sudden change in command. He looked calm and collected at the moment, almost thoughtful. I think I’ve never saw him so quiet before, but maybe there wasn’t such urgent matter at hand like that. I mean, it’s almost like they all are committing treason.

- If I’m not mistaken, the Queen will order another search, this time to here, and much bigger than just a couple of soldiers. But if luck’s on our side and Yoona and the prince get here before that, then it could all be discussed with the King. – Yoongi proposed.

- But if it isn’t the case, then a fight is going to happen. – Hoseok countered, and Y/N felt panic icing her blood.

- What are we going to do then? You guys can’t fight a whole army of soldiers! – she exclaimed, frowning exasperated. Taehyung got up, a smile on his face, walking towards the bed, and extending a hand to her. Hesitantly, she took it, getting up from the bed.

- We’re not going anywhere away from you, Y/N . If there’s a fight, but on if – he emphasized, rising a finger – You have an army to protect your land. And we’re going to meet it right now. – he said, opening the wood door that sealed the room she was in. I have an army?

- Oh, this is going to be good. Guys, you’ll want to see the Lupus Auream, or Golden Wolves. They bite. – Yoongi commented, walking right behind the first two. Y/N felt her heart hammering her chest – while putting on some leather shoes Tae handed to her -, fearing to wake from that moment and realize it was all a dream. – Are you ready to meet them, Queen? – Yoongi took her out of her momentary stupor, smirking excitedly at her. Swallowing hard, she tried to smile back, nodding once.

- Let’s meet them, then. – she said, and as they walked down the stairs from the chambers’ floor, there was a roar of cheers downstairs, startling Y/N a great deal, before she realized what was before her.

- I guess they were eager to meet you, Queen. – Jimin plopped from behind her, and Y/N observed, with wide eyes, the great amount of people – easily a thousand to two – that were standing from the doors of the castle, without trespassing, to the outside, crowding the front gardens, till somewhere she couldn’t see. Kids, old people, young people, dressed simply, with their work tools in hands. My… People? She chanced to think.

- Oh, here they come, please let’s head down. – Taehyung said, pulling Y/N ’s arm and rushing her down, ignoring the other’s scolding to go slower, since she was pregnant and all.

But as soon Y/N saw them, the seven wolves walking calmly in between the people to enter the castle, she was in complete awe, and approached at her own will. Behind them, other seven guards, with stark black armor appeared.

- Are you the… Golden Wolves? – she asked insecurely, and they all took their helmets, nodding once.

- A little part of them, milady. The wolves are also just the main protectors of the Black Woods. We’re here to recognize you as our Queen. – the one with brown hair and lightly tanned skin spoke, his soft voice making Y/N a little more at ease.

- Recognize me? How can you do that? – Y/N inquired, and the black knight made a gesture, snapping his fingers, which made all the wolves walk towards her. She stilled, scared, but another knight stepped up to her, maintaining a safe distance.

- Don’t fret. They’ll only smell you. If you have the same blood as our late Queen, and I’m pretty sure you do, they will recognize it, and then you’ll definitely be identified as our Queen. – he instructed, just as the seven dogs reached her, and she was impressed at how big they were. Colored in different hues and shades between black and grey, they stuck out on a clean place and in the light. But I think that in the woods they are completely invisible to the untrained eye, more yet with this winter snow. She pondered, as the lupines sniffed around her. The air was kind of heavy, and she wanted to look back, to have the knights reassurance.

But it quickly came to an end, when they all retracted a little, Y/N held her breath. The wolves all sat down, and to everyone’s amazement, bowed their heads to her, low almost touching the floor with their noses. From the knights came a relieved sigh – from all the fourteen knights around Y/N – and Y/N couldn’t help but squeal in happiness. The crowd behind her started to cheer again, chanting her name in unison, and the Battle Troops knights came down to hug her. She smiled, she cried, and held her belly tight, wishing, begging for JungKook to reach her soon. Please, come meet me. Let us be together now, come meet your child and mend my heart.

#jeon jungkook #BTS jungkook #HIDDEN MAJESTY FC #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook/reader #i hate myself for taking this long to post #im sorry for the delay #I still have to update the links to the other parts #i really liked writing this one

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lavieendonna · 7 years

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Brushwork || Art Major!Calum AU (Chapter 13)

Summary: An Art Major AU where Dallas - third year gawky art student at VCA - makes a deal with Calum - her cute new neighbour and project partner - and they spend the entire year learning that the perfect masterpiece takes a whole lot of brushwork.

Date: 4 August 2017 Requested: surprisingly yes like half a millennia ago Pairing: Calum + Dallas Words: 4K Warnings: a little bit of self-esteem issues and some body image negativity in the beginning, but the rest is quite fluffy and calum-y goodness. A/N: don’t ask me how long ago this was meant to be up cuz i can guarantee none of us were alive. IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE and i apologise in advance cuz the next one will probably be late too. I hope the content makes up for it though, this is one of my favourite chapters so far and I can’t wait to write more. PLEASE let me know what you think and KEEP REQUESTING THE NEXT PARTS ! It helps me write to know people are still reading :) big love x

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Chapter 13: If Calum Touched Me Again I Would Go Into Cardiac Arrest And He’d Have To Explain To Polly And My Sister That My Heart Couldn’t Take The Feeling Of His Skin On Mine So I Chose To Succumb to Death Instead.

I felt him slide into the bed behind me. I wasn’t sure I was completely awake yet, or at least, I didn’t think I was. But I couldn’t mistake his warmth for anybody else’s, there was no way that was ever going to be possible.

“Dallas…” His voice was a whisper, and even though I was on some other plane of existence, I could still feel the slight smirk on his lips as his arms snaked around my waist and shoulders and he pulled me to him, bowing his frame to match mine as his mouth pressed against the skin of my bare shoulder. “Wake up, Sunshine…”

His lips peppered the lightest of kisses along what flesh of my shoulders and neck he could reach at that angle and for a moment I contemplated continuing to dance on the edge of consciousness just so I could feel him adore me in his own time a little more. I could never imagine what went through his mind when I wasn’t around. Part of me wished I was facing him, nose to nose, so that I could glimpse through my lashes at what his face might have looked like when he watched me when I wasn’t looking.

But I understood that some of these moments, they were his to have. I wasn’t meant to memorise every expression he had no matter how much I longed too.

With a deep breath, I cracked my eyes open and gazed over my shoulder with squinted, sleepy eyes and a lazy grin.

“Morning to you, too.” I mumbled in my less-cute, raspy morning voice. I felt a chuckle rumble deep in his chest, and the feeling made me want to press my heart up against his. I shifted in his arms, burrowing myself deeper into his arms so our chests were pressed tight against one another. I glanced up through my lashes and he was looking down on me already with the hint of smirk and the ghost of some mischievous thought deep set in chocolate brown eyes.

“Is this okay?” He whispered to me, almost like he was teasing me. I cocked a sleepy eyebrow, and just as I opened my mouth to ask what he meant he leaned in and covered my lips with his own.

They were exactly like I remembered them.

And they also weren’t real.

I opened my eyes for real this time and I was sweating from head to toe. It was late winter and I felt like I had heat stroke. I sighed, trying to stop the hyperventilating, and sat up to bury my face in my hands. It wasn’t like the dream I’d just escaped was a nightmare or anything and yet here I was, heart racing like it was. Don’t ask me why, because I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.

When fished out my phone from the depths of my bed covers to check the time, I groaned when I realised that it was only just past six in the morning. It was too late to go back to sleep and too early to really do anything productive. But I felt lazy and lethargic – I’d been holed up in my room for nearly three days coming out only to take a dump every 12 hours. And while usually that was, like, a dream scenario for me, this time it didn’t make me feel overly good about myself. After the Wedding Incident™ I was relieved to spend that entire week wallowing in self-pity and hiding from everyone in existence. This time, though I still wanted to be invisible to society, the self-pity thing wasn’t doing much for me.

With a huff, I decided to do something I almost never did on my own out of fear of death and no one noticing. I pulled on a pair of black leggings that clung to my legs like a second skin, threw on an old baggy grey t-shirt and unearthed my bright green Adidas sneakers from the depths of my laundry pile under the bed and stared at myself in the mirror.

I hadn’t been to the gym in weeks, I’d forgotten what I looked like in my version of work-out clothes. I pulled the grey fabric of my shirt close to my frame, bunching it up behind my back and I cringed. I looked like a dickhead. I looked like a dickhead who needed to go to the gym. My thighs were bigger than usual and my love handles were more than pronounced without my Spanx on. I didn’t even want to think about the pudge that was supposedly my stomach now so I let my shirt go angrily, grabbed my phone and earphones and the loose change from my trinket tray and stormed out of my room and the apartment.

I decided (upon the realisation that I was too broke to actually go to the gym) that a nice long run to push the limits would help me release the tension and anger I had that was making my body feel so heavy and idle and stuck. I was stuck on how to feel about the situation I’d found myself in; angry that Polly had to be so brash and unapologetic. I was angry that my Mum didn’t understand me, and that Calum wasn’t home when I woke up. I was angry that this all had to happen to me – and me specifically �� because I was perfectly fine flying under the radar. I was as perfectly fine as I could be just being Dallas Noel James with minimal-to-no complications.

By the time I had realised how truly furious I was I had worked up a sprint. I had no idea where I was going or how far I’d gone – it seemed like I’d been running for hours. My chest was heaving and my face was red. I could feel the sweat sticking to my skin and drenching the t-shirt on my back. I smelt terrible an I was getting a wicked migraine from not drinking any water (or even bringing any to begin with). But for some reason the burn was comforting me more than any friend or family member I had could have.

I finally slowed to a stop in the middle of a deserted and some-what-dark park. There were a couple of street lamps on, but the first light of sun was just visible behind the trees that surrounded me. I was heaving, a lot more than I was this morning, and the skin from my neck up felt red. My thighs burned and I had a stitch where my liver was probably meant to be. But I felt lighter – for a minute.

“Dallas?”

God, every time I heard my name it made me want to throw up. Or die.

I stopped attempting to stretch and turned around slowly to find no one else by the boy with the brown puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t know you ran.” He said plainly and while I wasn’t really offended, I raised my eyebrows at the boy to see the panic rise in his eyes and drown any surprise that was lurking there. “Oh, I didn’t mean – No, Dallas, I mean… uh. That’s. I’m sorry. That was… that did sound like that in my head.” Calum cringed and I let myself force out a quite huff of a chuckle.

“It’s okay.” I laughed. “Um, I don’t run. Usually.” I explained. “Not in public anyway. I just didn’t have enough money for the gym this morning.” Calum wandered over with a sheepish smile, his black stretched out singlet willowing in the crisp morning breeze and making him seem skinner than usual. He wore a pair of baggy shorts, too, and (surprise) black Reebok’s.

“I didn’t know you went to the gym, either.” He was a bit cheekier with that line and I quirked an eyebrow at him. “You just didn’t seem the type!” He defended himself, palms in the air like he was surrendering.

“I guess not.” I laughed again and then I felt the familiar awkward feeling settle in my stomach when the small talk came to a lull and I was left standing there on the brink of death while Calum just watched me. I watched him back, but still. I didn’t think I looked like I was thinking a million things all at once.

“How’ve you been? Polly said you’ve been upset.” Calum finally said and I watched the playfulness leave his eyes and instead of making me panic it made me… sigh.

“Did she, now?” I said, pursing my lips and looking away from Calum’s face, hand on the back of my neck as I tried to ignore the sweat that was there that made my insides squirm. “Is that all she had to say?” When I glanced back at Calum he was frowning a little, lips turned down as he gave a small shrug.

“I mean, I guess.” He didn’t seem sure about that. “She said she hadn’t really seen you in a couple days. Reckons that meant you were upset.” Calum suddenly looked worried he’d said the wrong thing. I didn’t like seeing him so unsure, it tugged on my heartstrings more than usual and it was an uncomfortable feeling. So, I chuckled, and though it didn’t relieve much of the tension, Calum seemed to even out his breathing a little bit.

“Polly isn’t always right, you know.” I said very pointedly. “I’m fine, I’ve just been… busy?” I cringed. I started that sentence off so well but half-way through I realised I didn’t really have a good enough excuse to have been holed up in my room for so long, and then it sort of just came out like a question. It was Calum’s turn to cock his eyebrow at me unbelievingly and I tensed under his gaze, my cheeks flaring pink for a new reason now.

“Busy?” He questioned me and I gave a deathly slow nod, brain still running blank for anything to save me from my myself. “Are you sure?”

I didn’t say anything and just started to walk back in the direction I’d come from. Calum followed along beside me, naturally, saying nothing, naturally, and waiting for me to decide when I was ready to talk. I wasn’t, really, but the longer we spent walking in silence (apart from my erratic breathing mixing in with the wind) the more uncomfortable I got. I had to say something or it was going to eat me alive and I’d probably end up falling apart in Calum’s arms for a third time and I was worried that if Calum touched me again I would go into cardiac arrest and he’d have to explain to Polly and my sister that my heart couldn’t take the feeling of his skin on mine so I chose to succumb to death instead. I’d embarrassed myself enough for one lifetime.

“I, um.” I tried to clear my throat but it didn’t work too well and I ended up choking on my breath and coughing up a lung. Calum offered me his water and I took it graciously, careful not to let our fingers touch. “Thanks.” He chuckled lightly as I handed back the blue bottle.

“You were saying?” He smiled gently. I wanted to die just from that look, it was so cute.

“I – yeah.” I took a deep breath. “I just, um. I needed some time to think.” Was what I come up with and, without jinxing it, I was actually kind of proud of my honesty. “It was a crazy weekend.” I watched from the corner of my eye as Calum nodded with a slight smirk twitching on his lips.

“I heard.” He said, managing hold in his laughter I could see threatening to spill musically from pink lips. “Tequila and pizza party, huh?” He side-eyed me and I gave an uncomfortable, clearly embarrassed titter. I coughed lightly again, sheepish, and Calum sniggered.

“Yeah…” I mumbled. “After…. everything… Polly and Ashton wanted to relax and show me how we’d done.” There was a small lull in the conversation as Calum and I both thought back to that night and how I’d ended up a sobbing mess in his bed in the middle of the night. I cringed at the memory and when I looked back up at Calum, the playfulness in his eyes had died and he looked positively worried. Guilty, even, but mostly afraid. Of what, who knew. I was under the impression he was a modern-day Hercules and wasn’t afraid of anything.

“You didn’t like the photos?” He asked and my eyes widened.

“What? No.” I accidentally yelled. “I mean, no, I-I did.” My mouth gaped like a fish as I tried to recover that sentence. The look in Calum’s eyes hadn’t changed – in fact I think I’d just made it worse – and I desperately needed to change that.

“I didn’t mean that. Of course, I liked them.” I said slower. “I loved them.” Slowly, Calum looked less hurt and more… concerned. His eyebrow twitched as he was trying to piece together everything that happened with everything I’d just said. Part of me wished he wouldn’t – there was so much about that night that I didn’t remember, but I remembered enough that I didn’t want to relive any of it either.

“So what happened?” He asked. “Why… why were you so upset?” I tried to play it off.

“I’m an emotional drunk?” I said with a hopeful smile and a shrug. Calum didn’t fall for it, he just gave me a sidelong look. I sighed. “Sorry.”

“Why do you do that?” Calum was frowning now, not necessarily in a disappointed way, just in a confused way. “Every time someone tries to get into your head and ask if you’re okay you play it off like it doesn’t matter.”

“Because it doesn’t!” I gave a dark, unintentional laugh into the open air around us. The sun had come up from behind the trees behind us, now, but even with the rays hitting our backs I still shivered. “It doesn’t matter why I get upset because there are bigger problems in the world.” I looked Calum dead in the eyes this time, because that was the truth and he was never going to believe me if I didn’t look him in the eyes for longer than a millisecond. “I don’t like feeling full of myself. And if I get over it and stop feeling sorry for myself then maybe there’s a chance social demise won’t be my thing for much longer.”

Saying it all out loud, repeating Ashton and Polly’s words, hurt. And it made me want to start running all over again.

Calum’s fingers brushed mine ever so slightly and when I didn’t immediately recoil from his touch, Calum intertwined his fingers with mine. My heart rate sky rocketed, but I was surprisingly cool about it (apart from the fact that I couldn’t stop staring at our hands and wondering if maybe the gaps in his hands were meant for mine to fill them).

“It does matter.” He told me, and it wasn’t quiet or careful or even remotely like he was feeling sorry for me at all. “But just because you don’t want to be upset anymore, it doesn’t mean you don’t have to feel anything.”

I didn’t look at him when he spoke or even after. I just let him squeeze my hand gently for a moment and then when I was ready, I let it go.

“I’ll race you to the McDonald’s at the end of the street.” I said and took off without letting him agree. He yelled out after me and called me a bitch through a loud laugh and I laughed back and just pumped my arms and prayed that maybe I’d be better than Calum at something. I had no idea what possessed me to think that I could beat Calum at anything let alone at running. He was this athletic God and this was the first time I’d been running in – well, I didn’t even know how long.

It was inevitable that Calum would not only beat me, but have ordered us breakfast already (I gave up when he breezed passed me two seconds but also again when I tripped over my own feet and fell flat on my face).

“Here.” Calum was still laughing after I told him what happened. I scowled as I took the napkins he’d gone and gotten for me and pressed one to the gash on my cheek and balled another in my fist to stop the bleeding on my palm. “How’s your knee?”

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes but a smile twitched on my lips even though the bruise on my knee throbbed at the mention of it. Calum laughed one more time before gesturing for me to move the napkin from my face. I did as I was told and watched Calum inspect the wound as if he knew what he was looking at from a completely medical perspective.

“This is your fault, you know.” I told him very matter-of-factly. His eyes widened but they didn’t meet mind.

“In what world?!” He wailed at me and I winced when he started dabbing a fresh napkin to the now-slowing bleeding on my face a little too roughly, over the table even though it probably wasn’t overly comfortable for him.

“In the world that if you’d left me alone this morning and finished your run on your own without me!” Calum rolled his eyes and offered me a challenging look.

“Yeah, cuz that’s such a polite thing to do.” He deadpanned, and I cocked my eyebrow at him in my own challenge.

“Yeah, and in what world do you care about being polite?” I smirked. I was sure I had him now. Yes, the sweet, sweet taste of Revenge Sass™.

“Hey,” Calum’s eyes were playful again, but there was something else there deep set in his eyes that I couldn’t quite recognise. “I like to be polite to the girls I like.”

Calum took back his hand and the napkin as if he hadn’t just said the words that would be the cause of my death. I was suddenly finding it hard to breath, especially as Calum left at the sound of the girl behind the counter calling out our number.

Be it hopeful (or maybe in my case, fearful) thinking, or just a case of complete dumbass-ery, I could only think of one thing Calum could have meant by the words girls that he liked. And I was dumbfounded and almost horrified because there was no way I could have fallen into that category.

I mean, sure, we’d established some grounds that we were friends and he’d have to like me to some extent for either of us to be able to admit that. But, like. It was me. He was Calum. Did he like me? Like, like-like, me? Like that?

I was having a brain aneurism trying to figure I out, and by the time Calum returned with the try of warm food, hot coffee and he was already talking about something else.

“Anyway,” He sat down and started to divide the food. He’d gotten two of everything – two breakfast muffins, two sets of hot cakes, to coffees and two juices (and two hashbrowns each!). I probably wasn’t going to finish it all, but I would try if it meant Calum would talk to me a little longer. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay.” I busied my mouth with my muffin so I wouldn’t say something dumb.

“About the other night.”

“Uh. Okay?”

“When you were in my bed.”

“Yeah, alright, don’t remind me.” I shuddered. That was the first time someone had said the actual words out loud. They sounded… unlike me. But Calum laughed at my reaction and continued talking like I’d said nothing.

“You left something behind that night.” I was already praying it wasn’t my underwear. “I found your sketch book on my desk the next morning, after you’d left.” And I was officially fucked. Calum’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Dallas, your work, those pieces are incredible!” He was so excited. “I mean, I knew you were talented but holy shit.” He was talking with his mouth full and I was smiling sheepishly, uncomfortably, and my stomach wasn’t ready for this information after the last thing he’d said. I didn’t even realise that my book was missing, let alone that Calum had it. I really felt like I was going into cardiac arrest now – or maybe I was having a stroke. Who knows.

“Uh.” I sipped at my coffee, welcoming the almost burnt taste despite burnt coffee being one of my least favourite things. “Yeah, thanks… It, um. Yeah, I work really hard on those.”

Despite everything, I couldn’t pretend hearing Calum say that didn’t feel even a little good.

“I can tell.” He nodded. “I had a thought, and I wanna run it passed you.”

I looked at Calum, saying nothing and just watching as the brown eyed boy collected his thoughts and rearranged the words in his mouth. I watched and waited and part of me was curious about what he had to say. The other part was afraid, because I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

“I wanna use your latest drawings for the mural. I want to use the ballet dancer, paint her as a figurine or a music box or something, and then have her fall apart piece by piece and then put back together in a different pose. I’ve drawn up a rough sketch based on your drawings back home, but what do you think?”

It went where I thought it would, and I was less afraid than I thought I would be. Truth had it, that’s what the ballerina drawings were for. Not that exact design that Calum had described, but when I was drawing her I was thinking about how much time ballet dancers spent trying to be the embodiment of perfection and how even their mistakes looked more elegant when they didn’t call them mistakes and instead just found… peace.

I didn’t need to see Calum’s rough sketch to know that I wanted to go ahead with his design. So that’s what I said.

“I’m in.” I said with a grin. “Yeah, that sounds perfect. Let’s do it.” Calum’s grin stayed lopsided and happy.

“Will you be the ballerina?” He asked, eyes hopeful and excited. I blinked at him, a little blankly and not too sure what he meant.

“Huh?” I asked over my coffee. “What do you mean?”

“Can we paint the ballerina… well, can she look like you?” He clarified and I felt both flattered and embarrassed.

“Oh.” I mumbled out some weird inhuman murmur that weren’t really words at all. “Oh, no, I don’t – um. That’s probably not a good idea.” I chuckled and Calum just looked at me longingly.

“Why not?” He smiled, trying to encourage me to change my mind, I think. “You did really well at the shoot, the photos are beautiful.” I blushed again from the neck up. But instead of stuttering I cleared my throat and shrugged.

“We’ll see.” I said and Calum grinned again, tucking into his hotcakes more chipper than before.

“I have one more question.” He told me after a few minutes of comfortable silence. I looked up, sipping at my juice through the straw and putting the cup back down.

“What’s that?”

“Luke’s singing at this low key open mic night thing Friday night and he asked for some moral support.” Calum cleared his throat. “Do you… I dunno, do you wanna maybe come with me?” I nodded slowly, thinking.

“Yeah, I mean,” I shrugged again. “If Luke wants me there, sure.” Calum chuckled.

“Uh, right.” He just about snorted, he was trying so hard not to laugh. “Well the thing is, I want you there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Like a date?” I asked. Calum smiled.

“Yeah.” He said. “Yeah, let’s call it a date.”

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singledarkshade · 6 years

Text

Real World

Part Eight - Final Part

Rip gripped the gun he was holding on the two men. Part of him freely admitted that this was absolutely insane but he also knew that they knew what was happening to him and he needed answers.

The older of the two men slowly began to edge towards a bench where a phone sat.

“I wouldn’t,” Rip stated coldly stopping him in his tracks, “From recent experience I’m an excellent shot.”

Cisco held up his hands, “Michael, put the gun down. I know you’re confused but I promise I can help.”

“Why should I trust you?” Rip demanded.

“Because I have your answers,” Cisco took a few steps forward, “And if we wanted to hurt you we could have done it a long time ago.”

Slowly Rip lowered the gun he’d appropriated from one of the security guards at the hospital, proving he was apparently a good thief as well, before sagging as the adrenalin wore off. The older man caught his arm helping him to the nearest chair.

“Caitlin,” Cisco’s voice came from nearby, “Come to the cortex.”

Rubbing a hand across his eyes Rip looked at the two men standing watching him concerned before he placed the gun on the bench beside him.

“I’ll put this somewhere safe,” the older man said taking the weapon.

“Harry,” Cisco called, “Let Joe know what’s going on.”

The other man, Harry, nodded before he left and Rip looked back at the younger one.

“You look like hell,” Cisco said with a grimace.

Rip sighed, “I haven’t been sleeping.”

“Then you should have stayed in the hospital.”

“Cisco,” a woman’s voice scolded, “What’s so...oh.”

Looking up Rip saw the young woman who had been with them in the restaurant earlier, was it only that afternoon? It felt so much longer.

“I’m Caitlin,” she gave him a reassuring smile before suggesting, “Why don’t you take a seat on the bed? I want to make sure you don’t collapse again.”

Although still unsure Rip nodded and unsteadily made his way to the bed just off the room they were in.

Cisco stood waiting while Caitlin checked over their guest. Rip looked drawn and pale. His lack of sleep, trying to keep up with his son and the fear of whatever he had been remembering had obviously put a lot of strain on the man.

Finally Caitlin was satisfied he wasn’t going to collapse again and turned to Cisco, “He needs to eat and drink something. Before you do anything else.”

At her stern look Cisco shrugged, “I’ll ask Barry to get some pizza and soda. Okay?”

Caitlin nodded, “Call me if I’m needed.”

Giving her a small mock salute Cisco turned back to the man sitting on the bed looking resigned to sit there all night. He quickly text his friend for some food, knowing he’d owe Barry a favour but right now he had more important things to worry about.

“Hey,” he let Rip know he was there, “Caitlin has told me you’ve to eat first so I’m getting pizza. Once we get through some of that I’ll explain. Okay?”

Rip frowned but he nodded.

Once he’d had a few slices of the pizza Rip turned to Cisco, “Alright. I’ve eaten something so I want to know what the hell is going on.”

Cisco took a deep breath, “Just under a year ago I was contacted and asked to help integrate you into life here in Central City. I found you a job and an apartment while helping to create a background for you.”

“Why?”

“I’m not the person who can tell you that,” Cisco stated, he turned and picked up a remote control. Handing it to Rip he motioned to the screen at his side, “Press play. And hit the call button when you’re finished.”

Accepting the remote control Rip waited until Cisco had left the room. He took a deep breath and hit play, jumping when his own face appeared on the screen before him.

“Hello, Michael,” the man on the screen said softly, “If you’re seeing this then your memories have begun to return to a degree either you’ve contacted the Star Labs team or they’ve had to bring you in for your own safety. I understand how strange and frightening this experience is but it was necessary.”

Rip stared at the screen stunned.

“I know you have a million questions,” the other version of him continued, “I know you want me to tell you everything but I can’t. What I can tell you is that the decision to change your memories, the decision you, well I made was for one reason only. To protect Jonas.”

Rip caught his breath.

“He’s the reason, Michael. And he is the only thing that matters. You removed your memories to ensure that nothing and no one would ever be able to take him away,” the man on the screen told him, “I promise you he is your son, Miranda was his mother and you loved her the way you remember. I created most of the history you remember from my own so I assure you that what you remember about her is completely real. Yes, she was amazing, smart, beautiful and always right.”

Rip chuckled softly.

“Now comes the hard part. You have a choice to make which I know isn’t going to be easy in any way. You can allow your memories to return, Cisco can contact someone who will be able to help but that will place Jonas in danger. Or you can choose to allow Cisco to repress them once more,” the other version shook his head, “I hope you choose the latter because if you choose to remember you will never be able to reverse that decision and your son, my son will be in danger again.”

The man on the screen, the other version of him sighed and dropped his head slightly for a moment before looking back up.

“I’ve already made that choice,” he said quietly, “I chose to leave everything behind, including someone I cared for a great deal, to keep Jonas safe. It’s now yours to make. I am sorry that I can’t give you any more information but the more I tell you the less chance the wipe will work again if you do agree to it.”

“There’s nothing more I can say, Michael. I can only hope you make the right choice.”

With that the message ended.

Cisco found Rip sitting still staring at the screen with his own face showing.

“Hey,” he let the older man know he was there, “How you doing?”

Rip let out a long slow breath, “I’m not sure to be honest.”

Cisco shrugged, “Considering everything that makes sense,” he took a quick breath, “Okay, I know I’m not giving you a lot of time but I need to know what your decision is.”

“You mean to go back to being ignorant of who I really am,” Rip snapped, “Or allow you to remove my memories in the hopes that I really am protecting Jonas?”

“Look I know this isn’t an easy decision for you to make,” Cisco replied.

Rip stared at him for a moment, “What was I like? Before my memories were changed?”

“Not a clue,” Cisco smiled, “I’ve never met the other you.”

“Then why...”

“Mick, the big scary guy you saw me with at the museum, brought you and Jonas here,” Cisco explained, “You’d already done the memory wipe and trusted only him with the task of bringing you both here. I was given all the information I needed by Gideon, your friend and the only other one who knew Mick had brought you here.”

Rip frowned in thought, “I called my dog Gideon.”

“Yeah, I think she was happy about that but honestly I can’t be sure,” Cisco replied amused before he returned to the topic at hand, “Anyway from what I do know you did all this to protect your son. I agreed to help. I contacted Dr McGee who was more than happy to give you a job considering your qualifications and I found a place for you guys to live.”

“McGee knows,” Rip breathed before asking, “Do Ali and Katrina?”

Cisco shook his head, “Nope. You just got lucky with them as your neighbours.”

Rip fell into silence again thinking about everything turning back when Cisco spoke up once more.

“So, what am I doing?” he asked, “Restoring or removing your memories.”

*********************************************

Katrina frowned confused finding Rip standing outside the door. Since he’d been released from the hospital Rip was sleeping properly again meaning he felt and looked better than he had in weeks.

“You’re early,” she said hobbling back to the couch, “Ali and Jonas are still at the park.”

Rip shrugged dropping onto the couch beside her, “Yeah, I thought they would be.”

“What’s wrong?” Katrina asked concerned.

He let out a long sigh, “Isabelle decided we shouldn’t see each other anymore. Apparently she got fed up waiting for me to allow her into my life properly.”

“Sorry,” Katrina reached out for his hand and giving it a squeeze in sympathy, “Getting dumped sucks.”

Rip leaned back closing his eyes, “And now I know that.”

“Wait,” she cried, making him turn to her, “You’ve never been dumped?”

He shrugged, “I told you I met Miranda when I was eighteen.”

“And before that?”

“I didn’t date before that,” Rip replied with another shrug.

Katrina laughed, “So Miranda was every one of your firsts?”

Rolling his eyes Rip nodded.

“And I thought you couldn’t be any sweeter,” she pinched his cheek.

Batting her away he frowned, “I really wonder sometimes why I talk to you.”

“Because we’re your only friends,” she teased him, “And Jonas loves us.”

Rip chuckled, “Do you want me to make some lunch for them getting back?”

“That’d be great.”

Bouncing to his feet Rip headed into the kitchen, despite Isabelle ending their ‘friendship’ he felt better than he had for a while.

Cisco piloted the small drone that had been watching over Rip for the past few hours back to Star Labs.

“It appears to have worked,” Cisco reported, “His memories are gone once more and the additional block you designed appears to be working as well as we hoped.”

“That is good to know, Mr Ramon,” Gideon replied, “Hopefully this time anything that would normally prompt a memory will be ignored. It should also stop his subconscious providing him with dreams that could trigger memories.”

Cisco nodded, “That’s helpful since one of his closest friends is a cop who works with Joe.”

“If you require any additional help,” Gideon told him, “Feel free to contact me. I shall do what I can from here.”

“I will,” Cisco replied.

“Mr Ramon,” Gideon spoke up before he could disconnect the comm. link, “Please check on them every so often and ensure that they are safe.”

Cisco smiled slightly, “I promise, Gideon. I’ll watch over them for you.”

“Thank you, Mr Ramon,” Gideon replied before she cut communication.

Sure that Rip was now back to living his life, with no memory of his previous one, Cisco went back to work.

He had several ideas for Barry’s suit he wanted to work on.

#fic #legends of tomorrow #Rip Hunter

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