#(Ariel did try to deny it but she eventually turned around and stared at them like that for a bit)

[ashenwinds]

// the more I continue having my dlv character like Chi, the more likely it is becoming they are going to steal a princess from a prince. All the princesses seem to like a sassy pirate

[stories-by-rie]

Chapter 4 - Heart of Silver

Four years before Evelyn gets herself cursed, she helps Ariel with their Mare-situation, and meets up with a ghost.

words: 1967 || masterlist

Ariel’s whole apartment is their study, was what Evelyn had thought the first time she had entered it. She made sure to touch absolutely nothing as she followed them inside their bedroom. It was subtle, but the signs were clear to her. The sheets that looked simply tossed aside in frustration, the light disorder of everyday items, and the assortment of cheap sleep aids on the nightstand. What truly set these aside from any other plausible explanation, though, was the slight smell of foul balm.

    “Is it on my bed? I feel like it is on my bed,” Ariel mumbled and looked with a frown around their room. 

    “That’s most likely. Many Mares don’t leave their host’s beds. They probably can still feel your dreams. You might want to change your sheets after this,” Evelyn answered. “Not because of the My Little Pony print, just because that beast is actually smelling really bad.”

    Ariel just laughed at that and stepped into the corner, out of Evelyn’s way.

    It had been nearly a full year since Evelyn had worked with ghosts and monsters, so the smell made her stomach turn at first. Ariel must have long gotten used to the odor. But as soon as she clasped her fingers around the vial in her pocket, her instincts kicked in. She pulled out the vial with the golden sleep sand, as well as the net. Carefully she placed the sand inside the net and then stepped back to watch the outcome. It did not even take two minutes – surely this had to beat some kind of record – until the Mare took the bait, its shape turning solid before their eyes as it lunged at the sand and Evelyn pulled the net together around it.

    It was as if Ariel was woken out of some kind of stupor.

    “Are you kidding me? Was that all?” they exclaimed and stared at the Mare, now visible to them once more. The rotten blue skin did nothing to comfort either of them, even if it was caught securely.

    “Yup. The sleep sand smells like happy children's dreams, so Mares can’t resist the temptation. Though this one ran so fast, it did not seem that happy with yours, to be honest.”

    “I told you I have weird dreams,” Ariel mumbled and crouched down to the Mare that was just the size of a golden retriever. Then they looked up and grinned. As if their experience with the monster was forgotten, just because it was dealt with. Evelyn grew a bit self conscious at the smile, and only managed to return it shallowly.

    “Thank you. For your help. You’re really good at this. We should hunt monsters more often. It was really fun, even if the time with you was just this short.”

    And that just sounded like Ariel had enjoyed spending time with her. Like they wanted to be friends and meet frequently for coffee, talk about problems and successes, trust each other with secrets – like friends do. Warmth and sadness spread through her. Sadness, because ever since she had seen Ariel in that club a few weeks ago, she had thought that Ariel was pretty cool, and that it would be fun to be their friend. Yet that thought was ultimately drowned out by the knowledge that Evelyn’s understanding of friendship was simply not reciprocated. She committed too much. Trusted too much. Eventually got hurt too much. Even if she dared to try, it had been too long and any knowledge about the how had been lost in time. All she was, was a constant stranger. Alienated to an extent where a simple friendship was an enigma to her, social norms were lost on her – really – she understood that Mare better than humans if she allowed her mind to put it that pathetically.

    So, naturally, Evelyn did what she did best. She smiled, hummed, and then avoided them whenever she could. Just for a little bit of distance, she told herself in the beginning. Maybe another few weeks would be long enough without it being weird if she asked Ariel for a coffee. Or for hunting some ghosts. If Ariel would have been serious in their comment, they surely would approach her first anyway.

    Really, that one exception with the Mare hadn’t changed anything. It was just that now that she had seen those monsters again, it was really easy to spot them. Like some border in her brain had been crossed, and now she was in a territory where they just were much more visible. And since professional companies were quite expensive for the people who had chosen not to get such specific insurance, it was just a necessity for Evelyn to help out every now and then. Perhaps, it was also that she felt a little more alive when she lured monsters in her traps and sent ghosts off.

    As the matter would not leave her mind, she felt the need to talk about it with the liminal ghost that haunted the university’s library on Friday nights. It was not easy to meet her. Like most ghosts, showing her ghostly body to living humans was highly restricted, which in her case meant that she was only visible between one and four am, only to liminal people. Unluckily, Evelyn was one of those liminal people, such who were ghosts in heart.

    “You look a little lost today,” Leonie said, tracing the lines in the wooden table with her ghostly fingers.

    “You say that every time we meet,” Evelyn sighed, but couldn’t deny that it was true. From the look that the ghost was giving her, there was no reason to lie. “Lately, I have been working a lot as a ghost-hunter again,” she confessed. Speaking it out loud felt freeing. “Monsters and creatures and ghosts and,” she trailed off a bit, getting lost in her barely-there reflection of the library’s big panorama windows.

    “And?” Leonie pushed gently.

    “And all the like, you know?” Evelyn resumed, her voice a bit thinner now. She barely even knew what she had started that sentence for.

    “Do you have fun?” Leonie looked at her intently, with her slight smile. The few lights at the library’s entry flickered.

    Evelyn sighed and rested her head on her hand. “I suppose? I mean, I am really good at it. It was easy to forget how normal that kind of life has been. It feels a bit like I am falling back into it. Just that it is a soft fall. As if someone was holding me.”

    Leonie smiled and the lights flickered. “Is there someone holding you?”

    As if she was all-knowing. Of course, Evelyn’s thoughts instantly jumped to Ariel, even if she hadn’t met them since the Mare situation.

    “No,” she mumbled and looked down onto the table. “It’s more the work itself that catches me.”

    “I imagine it must be a little comforting to fall back into well-known hands.”

    “Hm.”

    “It must be easy to let go. If you know that you will be caught.”

    Evelyn’s gaze flicked up to her for a second. Was it easy? It seemed impossible to say, even if it really should be.

    After a few moments of calm silence, Leonie asked, “You don’t agree?” To which Evelyn really couldn’t answer anything, and hence settled on a tiny shrug. The time ticked by, both of them fine with the silence of the late night. It wasn’t the first time that Evelyn sat next to her, perfectly content with just not being alone. But this time, the ghost kept glancing over at her, waiting for her to speak about what she had come for. 

    “Leonie,” she finally gave in, slowly allowing herself to voice the thought that had been on her mind for a while now, “it does feel nice. And it is not really the work that fills me with this deafening feeling, really.”

    “Then what is it?” Leonie asked and finally the words flowed out of Evelyn as if she had practised them.

    “It’s just that it feels nice to be of use again. While studying, there really has been nothing at all for me to do. Except to learn for my own benefit. The work is different. I see the change and the happy faces when I am successful. I think it was a good decision to return to that. But it does not chase the feeling itself. And that person – Ariel – they gave me that. And I like them. I think I would enjoy being their friend. Maybe try to be at least. But honestly, I don’t understand what they want from me. I think it’s just work as well? I helped them with a job. I was useful. And I am not certain if I can do that. Become friends just out of usefulness, you know?”

    Evelyn tapped her finger quickly on the table, trying to somehow get the pressure out of her that boiled and boiled and threatened to burn her from the inside. Unnamed feelings that wanted to be spilled. Bopping her leg up and down helped dissipate them a bit.

    “How about you just talk about it with them?” Leonie suggested. Evelyn just scoffed.

    “That would be so weird, and you know it. You don’t go to people and say ‘Hey, please give me your definition of friendship and also don’t use me for my skills because that might break my heart’.” She stared right at the ghost – through the ghost as a lamp flickered to life for a pathetic second – and then sighed. “It would be very easy, though. If I ever had the courage to talk to them like that.”

    “What if you just stick around and find out? Nothing close yet. Just one or two meetings to test the waters?”

    Leonie’s idea was reasonable. The logical thing to do. But still, Evelyn winced and looked away to the window front where the small town's lights were merely tiny dots.

    “You are lonely,” Leonie stated as a matter of fact, not a question, and of course she was right. Evelyn thought a lot about it, and still didn’t know how to feel about it. There was a warmth to that loneliness. 

    “I chose to be alone. It was my decision,” she mumbled.

    “But that is voluntary. Loneliness is not. Not always, at least. There’s a difference between those things, Evelyn. The nice kind is called solitude. You have passed that.”

    Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek. Leonie always did that, saying things she didn’t want to hear. Even if she knew that she was often right, at least deep down. But so what? Maybe she had become lonely. That wasn’t that different from enjoying solitude.

    “You know that it’s the chemicals. You have been alone too long. I’m pretty sure talking to dead people doesn’t count as socializing. See? I can make out how you are trying to hold back the tears. You know that I am right,” Leonie added and when Evelyn looked back to her flimsy eyes, the movement alone was enough to let the tears drop. “It’s okay to be lonely. I can only guess how hard it must be if the solitude that has been your home starts to feel like loneliness.”

    Evelyn buried her face in her arms on the table, hiding away the tears and quiet sobs that she could not bear to show openly.

    “Maybe,” Leonie whispered into the morning, one of her ghostly hands on Evelyn’s head, “it would be worth it to try it out, no? To fight back a bit, just in spite.” And with those words she was gone, the sky outside starting to turn more blue than black; enough to shy the ghosts away. 

Not much later, Evelyn left too.

_____

previous chapter || WIP intro || masterlist || next chapter

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans... 

ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, angst, romance, fantasy

author’s note: seonghwa is loosely based on prince eric because let’s be honest, hwa is an actual prince; hongjoong is loosely based on captain hook (the once upon a time one); reader is veeeeery loosely based on ariel, i guess

warnings: suicide mentions, murder, drowning

word count: 2.1k

chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️ chapter six ☠️  chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight  ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter twelve ☠️ chapter thirteen ☠️ spotify playlist

You were swimming across the sea without a worry in the world when you spotted a man in the near distance. He was obviously in trouble because he was screaming for help and was possibly on the verge of drowning. 

You could see that he was a skilled swimmer because he was still fighting against the odds but judging from the swirling water around him, the problem was of a different nature. He’d gotten caught in a very dangerous whirlpool. You could see a giant ship further away but unfortunately, it would be impossible for anyone to come in time to help the drowning man. 

You sighed to yourself because you had been warned against getting involved with humans. You didn’t want to end up like your distant cousin who’d been turned into sea foam, because of her feelings for a human. But you couldn’t exactly watch someone die right in front of you. So, you swam towards the drowning man. 

Once you reached him, he’d already been submerged under the blue. You dived right into the whirlpool fearlessly and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him towards the surface. He was pretty heavy but you did your best to save him. As soon as you had gotten him out of the whirlpool, you began swimming towards the giant ship, hoping the other humans would take him off your plate. By the time you reached it, the man had regained consciousness.

“Did you just…save me?” he asked quietly.

“Don’t mention it,” you responded.

“Can I know the name of my saviour?” the man inquired.

You didn’t reply and just kept knocking on the wooden lower half of the ship, hoping the other humans would take him in so that you would get rid of any unnecessary human drama.

“That won’t work,” he chuckled and started screaming, “Yah, Joong, come get me, you ass!”

“Wait, you know someone on this ship?” you asked in confusion.

“Duh, I fell from here. Well, I got thrown out, more specifically.”

“Why would you want to come back, then?” you were even more confused.

“It was as a joke. I bet they didn’t expect me to fall into a whirlpool,” the man explained.

“Ah, I see.”

You were suddenly interrupted by a man on the ship who was rushing to help.

“Oh my God, Hwa, I’m so sorry!” he threw a rope into the sea and the man you’d saved grabbed it.

“Are you coming? I need to properly thank you for saving my life.”

“I c-can’t,” you whispered and looked down apologetically. The man still hadn’t realized what exactly had saved him.

When he finally noticed your tail, his eyes widened in shock.

“I have to go,” you murmured quickly and dived back into the sea.

“W-wait,” the drowning man spoke but it was too late. You were already gone.

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa’s POV

I climbed up the rope and was greeted by the captain’s tight hug.

“Dude, are you okay?” Hongjoong asked me in a worried voice. “What happened?”

“I’m fine. I swam away for a bit because I was mad at you for throwing me overboard as a joke. I didn’t expect to fall into a bloody whirlpool.”

Hongjoong shook his head.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you have to know how sorry I feel. I was so worried…”

I smiled fondly.

“Yeah, you should have thought about that before throwing my ass-“

“Who was she?” Hongjoong interrupted.

“She…saved me. I think she was a mermaid,” I informed him.

Hongjoong stared at me in disbelief.

“Mermaids aren’t real, man.”

“I saw her tail, Joong. She was very much real. And remember that story about the prince from the kingdom nearby?”

“It’s just that,” Hongjoong argued with me. “A story. Not real.”

I disagreed with him.

“I know what I saw, man.”

“You must be exhausted,” Hongjoong thought I was making this up. And it was honestly frustrating that he didn’t believe me.

“Didn’t you see her? She was right there!” I was beginning to get aggravated.

“It was just you, Hwa. You swam back on your own.”

“But…you just asked me who she was?!”

“No, I didn’t,” Hongjoong denied his own words. “You should get some sleep.”

Well, he was right about one thing. I was on my last legs and needed to go to bed immediately.

“Fine. But we’ll talk more about it tomorrow,” I said, determined to get to the bottom of it.

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong’s POV

Okay, so maybe I lied. I had indeed seen the mermaid. But in my defense, I was trying to protect Seonghwa. Everyone knew the story about the mermaid who had given up her life to be with a human prince. Everyone knew she was eventually turned into sea foam. But nobody knows what really happened to the prince after that. When he found out what had happened to the mermaid, he was overwhelmed with grief and ended up killing himself. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to my first mate, my best friend, Seonghwa. I didn’t want to risk him falling for a mermaid. I didn’t want to lose him. But I had a feeling he wasn’t going to let this go.

The next day, of course, proved me right.

“Hey, Captain, we heard you almost killed our beloved first mate last night,” Wooyoung said casually during breakfast.

I gave him a deadly glare to shut him up.

“Yeah, Cap, what’s that about?” San, the treacherous son of a bitch quickly defended his boyfriend’s stance. “Hwa told us you threw him overboard and then he was saved by a mermaid!”

I frowned at Seonghwa for being so quick to share everything with the crew.

“Relax, guys,” Hwa laughed easily. “Joong didn’t mean to kill me. But the mermaid part is very much real,” he pointedly stared at me.

“Just drop this already, will you?” I scolded him, exasperated by this whole mermaid story.

“Damn, I wish I was awake to see that!” Yeosang chimed in eagerly.

I rolled my eyes.

“She had really long hair and her tail was glowing. She was really beautiful,” Seonghwa spoke dreamily, which was making me even angrier.

“Yah, you must have not seen a girl in too long,” I couldn’t take it any longer. Mermaid this, mermaid that, it was too annoying! “She wasn’t that beautiful!”

“Ha!” Seonghwa laughed triumphantly. “I knew it! You saw her too, didn’t you? You were lying last night!”

Fuck. I’d exposed myself. The crew looked at us suspiciously, assessing the situation.

“Fine, I saw her,” I confessed reluctantly. “Will you let it go now? Mermaids are nothing but trouble.”

“And us, pirates aren’t?” Seonghwa scoffed sarcastically. “Just admit you’re jealous.”

“Ooh, Mom and Dad are fighting!” Wooyoung snickered, which earned a couple of quiet chuckles from Yeosang and San. These little bastards were living for drama.

Seonghwa and I gave them an angry look simultaneously, which immediately shut them up.

“Not jealous, just worried. You don’t know the full story about that prince…” I started.

Hwa’s brows furrowed.

“You said it was just a story,” Seonghwa called me out on my bullshit once again.

“I’ll tell you everything. But not in front of the kids.”

“Come ooooon,” Wooyoung whined. “We’re old enough to know!”

I shook my head and grabbed Seonghwa’s hand, pulling him away.

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa’s POV

“What do you mean the prince killed himself?” I asked in horror. “I thought the asshole lived happily ever after with some princess.”

“That’s what his parents want you to believe. They were too ashamed to let the world know the truth,” Hongjoong explained patiently.

“And how do you know the truth?” I eyed Joong in suspicion.

“Because I am the one who found his body and buried him.”

“That’s…impossible, Joong,” I argued passionately, because he only knew part of the story. He didn’t even realize I knew more than he did.

“Why? Because you want to believe in fairy tales?” Hongjoong was growing tired by my stubbornness to drop this subject.

“No, because I am the prince from that story,” I finally told him what nobody else on that ship knew.

“You’re delusional,” Hongjoong laughed. “I buried the prince. And he looked nothing like you.”

“That’s what I wanted people to believe,” I said coldly, paraphrasing his earlier words. “I’ll tell you everything if you promise not to ask any questions until I’m finished. Can you do that for me?”

Hongjoong nodded unwillingly.

“Once upon a time, I was travelling with my parents, the king and queen, across the sea. But after a fight with them, similar to my fight with you yesterday, I foolishly jumped into the sea. But I was younger, then, not at all skilled at swimming. I began to drown. Until a mermaid saved me. We fell in love at first sight and spent a week together in a secret bay. She promised she’d find a way to turn her tail into legs so that she would be with me. I believed her and returned to my parents. When she found me again in the castle, she had lost her voice. It didn’t matter to me and I promised I’d marry her. But my parents were strongly against it. They wanted to get rid of her. So, they bribed the sea witch with treasures and turned my love into sea foam. The stories are all lies. My mermaid didn’t die because I didn’t love her back. She died because I did. When I found out what my parents had done, I was so miserable I considered ending my life. But I knew I had to live for her, I wanted to avenge her death. So, I tricked the sea witch. I told her she could have my kingdom on one condition – she had to transform her body into mine, making herself into an identical twin. She asked what I wanted in return and I came up with a stupid explanation that I just wanted to die but didn’t want my parents to be miserable, which is why she would come as a replacement to me. The witch’s greed was so grand that she believed every word I said. As soon as the transformation had been completed, I killed her. Well, myself. That’s what I wanted it to look like. And I wanted my parents to suffer for me the way I had suffered for my love. But I couldn’t get arrogant and risk being found out. So, I located a good-hearted wizard and asked him to change my face into something different. I told him my story and he didn’t want anything in return. He took pity on me and just wanted to help me. Thus, the explanation as to why the corpse you buried looked nothing like…the way I currently look. When I was stealing fish from that port market where you found me, I decided to start anew. To forget everything and move on. But last night, when that new mermaid saved my life, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my old love, of the past.”

I fell silent, expecting Hongjoong to ask me a million questions to check the validity of my story. Instead, he fully believed me and asked something unexpected.

“Why…why are you telling me all this now?” Joong whispered and in that moment he looked nothing like the terrifying pirate king I’d first met.

I shrugged.

“You’re the one who brought up the real story. I couldn’t let you go on thinking it was the truth.”

“When I asked you to come on board that night…were you planning on ever telling me?”

“No,” I admitted. “I was intending to carry this secret to my grave. But I trust you, Joong. And it was eating me inside.”

Hongjoong sighed deeply.

“Damnit, Hwa. How am I supposed to deal with this, huh? You’re a bloody prince, the very thing us, pirates, are sworn to steal from.”

I smiled.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“What do you suggest?” Hongjoong spat angrily. “Worry about the mermaid? Everything I’ve ever known about you was a lie.”

I grabbed his face.

“Not everything, Joong,” I looked into his eyes. “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. It’s as real as freaking mermaids, man.”

Hongjoong blushed adorably and pressed his forehead against mine.

“What do you want me to do?” he whispered fondly.

“Aren’t you the one giving the orders on this ship?” I teased him.

“Shut up,” Hongjoong laughed. “Tell me.”

“I want to find her,” I said truthfully.

“I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to,” I reminded him.

“I want to,” Joong insisted.

“Together, then?”

“Always.”

To be continued…

[kenzieam]

Not Happening, Doll - Chapter Nine (Bucky X Levi)

Rating: M (language, violence, eventual smut, angst, slow burn)

Genre: Drama/Angst

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Where do they go from here?

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

“Oh my god!” Levi screeched, dancing at Bucky’s side. “I love it, thank you!” She hugged the huge stuffed Stitch doll to her chest and buried her face in it.

Bucky grinned, reaching over to pat the alien’s head. “You’re welcome, doll. But I’m the Winter Soldier, I would have had to hand in my man card if I’d bombed a carnival game.”

Levi beamed back, then stopped strangling Stitch long enough to hug Bucky unexpectedly and his stride faltered as her enthusiasm knocked him off balance. She’d zeroed in on this Stitch doll right away and Bucky had become personally invested in winning it for her. He was just relieved he’d driven his truck tonight, because he wasn’t sure if Levi’s newest toy would even fit on the bike.

Watching Lev tonight at the fair was contagious. She was so youthfully excited, so innocent in her honest enjoyment that Bucky found he couldn’t stop smiling. She skipped along beside him, looking nothing like a highly trained Avenger and Bucky realized that there was precious little he wouldn’t do to see this side of Levi, see her smiling and so joyful, all the time.

“You want to share a funnel cake?” Levi asked, head on a swivel. “Or maybe a deep-fried Snickers bar?”

Bucky chuckled and looped an arm around Levi, drawing her close for a loud kiss on her temple. “You make me so happy, doll.” He blurted and then wasn’t even embarrassed, because she did, and he was tired of acting like she didn’t.

Levi paused, studying him quietly and Bucky waited. This was a crossroads, and it was Levi’s decision which way they went. Did they continue down the quiet path, friends forever and nothing more? Or did they turn down the shadowy one, the one with twists and turns and an uncertain end? One was safe, the other would never be boring. For the briefest instance, fear and uncertainty flashed in Levi’s eyes, then the steel and spunk that Bucky loved about her so much barreled in and her eyes danced as she grinned back up at him.

“You make me happy too, James.” She whispered, leaning up and pecking his cheek.

Bucky turned his head to follow her and for an instant, their lips brushed, and lightning rocketed through Bucky’s body. Shit, fuck, GOD, he missed her something awful.

Levi pulled back, her fingers reaching up to brush at her lips, but she didn’t look angry, only pleasantly surprised. They curved into a grin and she winked cheekily at him, letting his have this round. “You didn’t answer me, Barnes. Funnel cake or Snickers?”

Bucky was as incapable at deciding as she was and so they compromised on mini-donuts and then he let her drag him to the Ferris Wheel. Before long they were seated in a car and watching the fair disappear below them. Levi threw out her arms and laughed as they rose higher and higher then, as she dropped them, leaned deliberately into Bucky’s side. He startled ever so slightly then grinned madly, slinging his arm over her shoulders and pulling her even closer. For a time, they just sat, enjoying the closeness and the view as the wheel slowly turned and Bucky was sure that his heart would simply burst from his chest, because, right now, in this moment, it was like time had turned back and it was before the war; and he was just Bucky, on a date with a beautiful girl, nothing weighing him down, nothing dark and evil in the rear-view ready to pounce.

Right now, it was just them.

The car stopped suddenly, as Ferris wheels tended to do and Levi squealed as it swung, necessitating Bucky to tighten his arm and Levi to cling closer, her squeal morphing into a giggle. She laughed up at him, her giggle dying in her throat as she recognized the look Bucky was now giving her.

He gazed down into her eyes, his stare heated. He’d held off as long as he could tonight, and he simply could not go another minute without feeling her kiss. Levi read the question and desire in his eyes and really, what was the more perfect place for a couple’s first kiss but on top of the world, everything lit up below them like stars?

She licked her lips in answer and felt more than heard the groan that rumbled low in Bucky’s chest. He dropped his head and their lips connected, a lightning bolt shooting through them. Bucky reached up with his free hand to cup Levi’s face and she wrapped her arms around his neck, curling her fingers into the baby-soft hair at his nape.

Bucky feasted on her lips, savoring each second of connection and Levi gave it right back, moaning a little as Bucky’s tongue swept against hers; their mouths opening wider to delve deeper into each other and they might have rushed headlong to third base if the Ferris wheel didn’t start rotating again, jolting them back to reality. They pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads to each other, breaths heavy and eyes closed.

“I love you, Levi.” Bucky confessed quietly. “I have for so goddamn long.”

Levi pulled back and Bucky opened his eyes, gazing at her, tired of denying this bone-deep truth. She could break him in this moment or lift him up to the stars.

Levi smiled and Bucky knew he would never see a more beautiful sight. “I love you too, James.”

Bucky’s smile threatened to split his face in two as he leaned his head back down, resting it to Levi’s and just existed for a moment in pure bliss.

“It’s a good thing we didn’t bring your bike.” Levi observed as she maneuvered Stitch into the cab beside her.

“I would’ve figured out a way to tie it down.” Bucky replied lightly, knowing there was no way in hell he would have, and the grin Levi favored him with said she knew it too. This was part of what made Bucky’s heart sing so sweetly for Levi, this deeper than words connection that seemed to grow stronger with each day that their trust in each other grew. Bucky didn’t need to speak sometimes for Levi to hear him.

Bucky climbed into the drivers’ seat and was pleasantly surprised to find that, instead of wedging the stuffie between them as he’d expected, Levi had mashed Stitch up against the passenger door and was now seated in the centre. As Bucky clicked the belt into place and reached over to start the truck Levi scooted closer and snuggled against him. Not willing to waste a single second of contact Bucky wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, tipping his head to rest against hers. For most of the drive they said nothing, and they didn’t need to, their thoughts ferried back and forth, conveyed by their touch and gentle caresses, the way Levi’s hand rested tenderly but possessively on Bucky’s thigh, sending a warmth through him that he recognized he craved, with all the desperation of an addict. After awhile Levi sagged against Bucky and he realized that she’d fallen asleep against him, nuzzled close and he turned his head for just an instant and pressed a gentle kiss to her hair.

“Lev? Doll, we’re back.” Bucky murmured as the Compound came into view.

Levi startled slightly then hummed in sleepy acknowledgment. She stretched beside him with a little noise and Bucky was immediately taken back to the mornings on their job, when they’d woken up together and Levi had done the same thing, stretching against him and humming happily, burrowing closer into his chest or neck as she tried to get just a few more minutes of rest, giggling when Bucky would press tender kisses to her skin, murmuring good morning to her and that it was time to get up. No, she’d grumble back, trying to nestle closer to him and drag him back down with her.

“Doll.” Bucky repeated, brushing his fingertips along the back of her hand.

“No.” Levi grunted, and Bucky chuckled, shaking his head indulgently.

“I can’t carry you and Stitch.” He continued, as he parked the truck and turned it off. Carefully, holding Levi’s head so she didn’t fall over too sharply, Bucky climbed out and let her lay gently down on the seat.

“Leave me.” Levi replied, sleepily stifling a giggle. “Let me sleep, Barnes.”

Bucky considered, shifting his weight, then grinned and leaned down to whisper in Levi’s ear. “I’ll give you another kiss if you wake up.”

Levi opened one eye and regarded him. “Two.” She countered.

Bucky laughed out loud, his heart feeling so goddamn light and free. “Okay, twist my rubber arm.”

Levi exploded with laughter and sat up, still shaking with it as she piled out the other side with Stitch. She rounded the truck, still giggling and Bucky held up his arm. She tucked herself underneath it and skipped along beside him, suddenly fully awake with the promise of more of Bucky’s kisses. Stitch bobbed in her arms and Levi had trouble fitting him through the doorways without laughing out loud and it made Bucky laugh too.

They were still laughing when the elevator disgorged them, and they piled out near the common room. Steve poked his head up like a whack-a-mole over the back of the couch and peered at them.

“What the hell is that?” He asked, pointing to the stuffie.

“Bucky won it for me.” Levi grinned back, leaning up and pecking Bucky’s chin. He went beet-red as Steve cat-called then rolled to his feet with a groan. He ventured closer and smirked.

“You smell like fried food and popcorn.”

“Don’t be jealous, punk.” Bucky shot back, pulling Levi gently along with him to the kitchen. Levi plunked Stitch on one stool then sat beside it, leaning her chin in her hand.

“You want a drink, doll?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Just water, please.” Levi replied, grinning as Steve sat on the other side of her, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

“Have a good time?” Steve asked.

Levi nodded, taking a big drink of the glass Bucky handed to her. “Yeah, it was so much fun. I’ve never been to fair like that before.”

“No?” Steve shifted curiously. “I thought you grew up in New York though, you didn’t go to Coney Island?”

“No,” Levi replied. “The orphanage was up in the Bronx; I’d sneak out but never make it that far south.” Levi grinned wickedly, eyes on Bucky when she spoke again. “This was my first date ever.”

Both Steve and Bucky made noises of astonishment and Levi shrugged. “The nuns kept a pretty close watch on us, and after I joined SHIELD, I was too busy,” she smiled then at Bucky and his knees went weak. “Thank you, Bucky. Tonight was perfect.” She hopped off the stool and pecked both men on the cheek. “I’m beat though, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Steve replied quietly but Bucky sprang into motion, still stunned by Levi’s revelation.

“Let me walk you, doll.”

“Twist my rubber arm.” She giggled back and Steve frowned in confusion as they laughed at their private joke.

They were quiet as they reached Levi’s suite, she unlocked the keypad and opened the door, pushing Stitch through before turning back to face Bucky. She didn’t invite him in but Bucky found he didn’t overly mind; Levi had just thanked him for a perfect first date, and didn’t that always end with just a kiss at the door?

“I had fun tonight, baby.” Bucky murmured quietly; eyes lowered but flicking up to scan Levi’s face for her reaction.

“Me too.” Her hand reached out and brushed against Bucky’s and he snagged it fiercely; lacing his fingers through hers and squeezing, trying to convey his sincerity.

“I’d like to take you out again… like you said, do this right?”

Levi nodded with a small smile. “Yes, I’d like that. Thank you, James.”

Normally Bucky hated to hear his given name, it usually meant he was in trouble, but for some reason, hearing it roll off of Levi’s tongue sounded good and he decided he wouldn’t mind if she ever called him anything but ‘James’ ever again.  

“Tomorrow?” He blurted, knowing he sounded way too eager and not giving a shit.

“Okay,” Levi smiled bashfully, looking up at him through her lashes and Bucky had to fight to not wrap his arms around her and practically devour her lips.

Bucky grinned, feeling like a teenager again, his heart pounding a delighted tattoo in his chest. “Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, James.”

Hesitating only briefly, Bucky leaned down and Levi’s eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. Their first touch was electric, just like on the Ferris wheel and Bucky sighed with pleasure, his hand curling at her cheek. They pulled apart a hairsbreadth, then kissed again gently before pulling back. Bucky took a deliberate step away, fighting his body’s desire to leap at Levi and push her through the door, bury himself inside her and make her his again.

Answering desire flared in Levi’s eyes but she took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Stepping intentionally through the doorway she bit her lip before smiling once again at Bucky, her breaths a little heavier than expected for a simple kiss; but this had been no simple kiss, the storm of attraction that roiled between them would never be simple or plain or ordinary. Holding Bucky’s heated gaze, she closed the door quietly and Bucky exhaled heavily, his body tight with need and want.

But the anticipation was sweet too and, as Bucky turned away, his heart hummed in rarely experienced perfect peace.

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

Steve stumbled down the hallway the next morning, yawning heavily. Bucky had returned to the common room after saying goodnight to Levi and joined Steve for the last half-hour of ‘The Wrestler’, a movie they’d both seen before but was always worth another watch. Bucky had been fairly tight-lipped, but Steve knew his oldest friend well enough to see that his date had been all sorts of perfect, and Bucky was, for the first time in a long time, looking like he had hope again.

Delicious smells wafted down the hallways and Steve’s stomach growled in hungry anticipation. He rounded the corner and had to halt briefly to take in the sight.

Levi, a damn good cook in her own right, was making breakfast and she had help. Or rather, she might have started out with help, but now Bucky was just attached to her. Like literally attached. Hugging Levi from behind, his arms banded around her, Bucky had his head buried in Levi’s neck, nuzzled into her curtain of auburn hair and was pressed against her, head to toe, his feet on the outside of hers and tripping her up more often than not as he shuffled sideways with her movements, but other than that, he fit her like a bodysuit and Steve had to bite back a chuckle.

The most fearsome and dreaded and shadowed assassin of the modern age, and he was hanging off Levi like a koala bear. Steve considered reminding him that, while he thought this was all sorts of adorable, Bucky was guaranteed to be teased mercilessly by Sam and probably Nat and Clint too, while Wanda would just smile serenely. God knows what Tony would do, but he usually was banging away in his workshop by now, the breakfast Pepper had brought him completely forgotten unless she stayed and fed him like a giant toddler.

Steve compromised and cleared his throat theatrically. Levi turned away from the counter and Bucky turned with her, raising his head from her throat enough to rest his chin on her shoulder and gaze at Steve. He wasn’t even embarrassed to be caught like this, Steve realized, and anything Sam or Clint said would probably just roll of his powerful back this morning.

“Morning, Steve.” Levi called; she didn’t seem to mind her spider-monkey and smiled warmly at Steve.

“Morning, Lev. Hey Buck.”

“Punk.” Bucky replied genially, burying his head back into Levi’s throat. She grinned at Steve, rolling her eyes playfully then turned back to the counter, her movement slowed by the extra two hundred fifty plus pounds of Super Soldier attached to her back and shuffling with her.

Steve snickered and wandered over to the coffee maker, pouring himself a cup.

“French toast?” Levi asked, a whole loaf’s worth spread out on the griddle in front of her.

“Sure, thank you.”

Levi grinned at him; her face half-hidden by Bucky’s curtain of brown hair before shuffling sideways to the stove-top and stirring a pan of scrambled eggs. Bacon crackled merrily in the next pan.

“It’s all ready if you want to grab some-“ Levi began, then voices broke in as the rest of the team rounded the corner, drawn by the heavenly smell.

“What the hell is this?” Sam grunted, but he was fighting a grin.

“Hell of a growth you got there, Lev.” Clint added with a laugh before his eyes zeroed in on the food. “Mmmm, French toast! That all for us, sweetheart?”

“Dig in.” Levi replied genially, turning away from the stove. She leaned into Bucky behind her and rested her arms on his where they banded around her. “And leave my tumor alone.” She teased.

Bucky chuckled quietly in her hair but didn’t raise his head.

“Seriously Barnes,” Sam snorted, grinning. “Let the poor girl go.” He laughed as he elbowed Bucky sharply in the ribs as he bellied up to the stove for bacon and eggs.

“No.” Bucky muttered, sounding like a petulant child. He raised his head to reveal a grin. “Leave me alone.”

“Big baby.” Sam grinned, piling French toast on his plate like it was going out of style. “You’re missing out on this awesomeness.” He gestured to the food laid out as Clint stuffed his face at the counter, looking like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“I have the awesomeness, right here.” Bucky countered softly, grinning again before dropping his head once more into Levi’s throat. But instead of staying, he pressed a gentle kiss to her nape and released her, elbowing Sam out the way with a faux glower as he grabbed a plate for himself.

After filling her own plate, Levi boosted herself up onto the counter and Bucky moved to stand between her legs, settling close as Levi wrapped her legs around his thighs. Leaning forwards, her chest to Bucky’s back, Levi reached around him and snagged a piece of bacon off his plate, popping it into her mouth with a grin while Bucky turned his head to the side and grumbled in good-natured protest. After a while, Levi set her plate down and wrapped her arms around Bucky’s chest, setting her chin on his shoulder for a beat before turning her head and resting her cheek against the back of his powerful shoulder. Between forkfuls of food Bucky would tip his head to the side and rest it to Levi’s while he chewed, and Steve watched quietly with a growing warmth in his heart.

Before the mission, Levi and Bucky were barely even able to share space in the same room without a battle royale, and then, after the mission failure, Bucky had run off, leaving Levi behind and despite her best efforts to hide it, a sadness had permeated Levi’s skin and clouded the very air around her. After Bucky’s return, they’d continued to tiptoe around each other, but the hostility and antagonism of before had been replaced with a sad kind of distance, a tentative hope that things would get better, but now were uncertain and lonely, ashamed and regretful. In all the time that Bucky and Levi had coexisted at the Compound together, they’d never been so genial and peaceful around each other, so casually attentive and thoughtful and downright…. touchy-feely.

Sam watched with a shit-eating grin, elbowing Clint who giggled like an idiot, mouth full of eggs and toast, ever present coffee in his hand and Bucky ignored them both, completely rapt with the woman behind him, the woman he could finally touch the way the wanted, whenever he wanted. The turnaround was stunning, enemies to friends to almost lovers, and Steve had no doubts that that was going to be resumed any day now, maybe even this morning, on this very counter. Levi turned her head and murmured something into Bucky’s ear, his expression going from interested to very interested as she spoke. He whispered back then popped the last of his toast into his mouth and turned swiftly in Levi’s embrace, setting his plate next to hers. His hands rested on her hips as he leaned his head forwards until their foreheads touched and they just gazed at each other, lost in their own little word before trading a quick peck on the lips.

Bucky pushed away as Levi dropped her limbs, releasing him and turned to face Steve. “Up for a run?” He asked congenially, his eyes twinkling with something Steve hadn’t seen in a long time and recognized as plain and simple happiness.

Steve shrugged and glanced at Sam and Clint. “Sure, you guys?”

Clint choked on his coffee, he was not a runner and Sam just snorted, shaking his head.

“No thanks, I can’t keep up to you guys.”

“You’re volunteering for clean-up then?” Nat chirped, sauntering into the kitchen, her plate almost licked clean. “Thank you.”

Clint and Sam rounded on her like a pair of jackals, eyes alight, sputtering before realizing they were stuck. Grumbling, Sam started grabbing plates while Clint filled the sink and they were still griping when Steve left, hiding a grin.

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

“So?” Steve asked leadingly, jogging easily at Bucky’s side. Well, jogging was a stretch; the average human would already not be able to keep up to them, and neither had stretched out to a full run yet.

“So…. What?” Bucky replied, grinning, purposely being obtuse.

Steve contemplated whacking him upside the head but settled for bumping his shoulder, hard. “So… you and Lev seem to have figured things out.”

Bucky flashed Steve a look. “Looks like it.”

“You’ve worked it all out?”

“What does it look like, punk?” Bucky’s teeth flashed white.

“It looks like if we hadn’t been there this morning, you would have screwed her right there on the counter.” Steve shot back, half-exasperated. Bucky was purposefully being a turd this morning, but Steve wanted to make sure that things were on the right track, he was not willing to have Levi hurt in any way again, even if it meant butting heads with his oldest friend.

“No.” Bucky’s reply surprised him, and he waited until the other man continued. “She’s everything to me, punk. I’m going to do it right this time. But… “ He trailed off.

“But?”

“But it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Steve snorted laughter and Bucky rolled his eyes, purposefully increasing his speed so that, for a moment, Steve was too preoccupied catching up to tease him further.

“What I meant, asshat,” Bucky continued, glaring at Steve as he still snickered, albeit a little more breathlessly. “Is that I remember what we had, how fucking explosive it was, and I miss that, but I want to make sure I respect her wishes. She wants to be friends first, and work from there. Which is what we should have done, right from the start, but that’s my fault.” He eyed Steve, warning him not to ask. “When she’s ready, we’ll go further, but… I hope it’s soon, Christ. I miss her.”

Steve contemplated this for a beat then grinned. “Asshat? Who taught you that? Wilson?

“Nah,” Bucky laughed. “Lev did, she’s called me that once or twice.”

“If the shoe fits…” Steve trailed off, letting out a laugh as Bucky snorted and started to sprint, ending all conversation.

Returning to the Compound later, Steve wiped sweat off his brow, heart hammering and legs shaking. They’d pushed hard this morning, running faster and farther than the average sprinter and marathoner combined. Bucky’s shirt was soaked through with sweat and he breathed heavily, but his eyes still sparkled with the same happiness as before and Steve felt a fresh pang in his chest. It had been too long since he’d seen Bucky so carefree and cheerful; nearly a century in fact, and it made his own heart lighter and more content. He’d spent so much time and energy since discovering the true identity of the Winter Soldier trying to bring some form of Bucky back and, while his oldest friend would never be the same, and really, who could be after such an experience, he seemed to have finally found his groove, his place in his new skin and this changed world.

“What are you up to for the rest of the day?” Steve asked as he hit the button in the elevator for the correct floor, even though he had a damned good idea.

Bucky eyed him derisively, like that was the dumbest question in the long line of dumb questions that Steve had ever asked. But the merry twinkle never left his blue depths and he couldn’t stop an excited, little-boy-on-Christmas-morning grin. “Lev and I are watching movies in her room.”

“Oh.” Steve replied with forced gravity, eyes dancing with playfulness. “I didn’t know that was the Millennial term now… ‘watching movies’. Is that like ‘Netflix and Chill’?” He laughed at Bucky’s confusion; Sam had just explained to him last week what that meant. “Ask Lev, no wait. Don’t. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Bucky’s eyes danced with mischief. “Oh, I’m definitely asking her now. Watch your ass Rogers, I think she’ll be wanting to kick it between your big ears.”

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

Bucky hesitated, then knocked quietly at the door.

“Come in.” Levi called.

He pushed the door open, struck by a sudden case of nerves but couldn’t stop a smile as his eyes landed on Lev. She stood in front of her entertainment setup, a small stack of DVDs in her hands. Clad in yoga capris (god bless that clingy fabric, Bucky thought) and a tank top, her hair was damp and the residual glow in her cheeks told Bucky that while he and Steve had hauled ass outside, Levi had gone down the training rooms and done her own circuit.

Drawn to her, Bucky crowded close, feeling his heart ease as he gently pressed his chest to Levi’s back, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into her throat, letting her natural scent, plus that delicious perfume she wore, surround him.

Levi tipped her head to rest against his and continued to shuffle through the stack. “Any favorites?” She asked, holding up one then the next for Bucky’s perusal, but he didn’t even raise his head.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he murmured, relishing the tiny shiver that ran through Lev as his lips brushed her skin.

“Fine,” he could hear the grin in her voice, and she shrugged gently to dislodge him. “Can you go grab some snacks? I haven’t gotten that far.”

Bucky considered mumbling that all he wanted to eat was already right here in front of him but remembered his vow to go slowly and respect Levi’s wishes. Shit, he was already pushing it by spider-monkeying her every chance he got but she soothed the ache deep in his heart, the never-healing wound that his past had ripped through him and he craved and needed that balm to his soul as much as the air he dragged into his lungs. “Yeah,” he replied, peeling himself off her reluctantly, internally beaming as Levi leaned with him for a moment, obviously enjoying his touch then trekked to the kitchen, mind running through snack options.

Fearing the wrath of Nat, Clint and Sam had left the kitchen spotless and while the archer had disappeared, Sam had sequestered the couch, stretched out on it like a starfish, while Steve now held down the armchair and they argued good-naturedly about which game to watch.

Bucky quickly gathered provisions and almost made it out of the kitchen before Sam chirped at him. “Behave yourself, comrade; or I’ll be forced to kick your ass.”

“You and what army?” Bucky threw back casually.

“He’ll help.” Sam declared, turning on the couch to face Bucky and pointed at Steve for emphasis. “Steve will hold you while I punch.”

“I can kick both your asses.” Bucky returned the volley easily but, as his and Sam’s eyes met, he nodded once solemnly in understanding. They might be joking right now, but there was an undercurrent of warning in Sam’s voice; he continued to watch out for Levi and probably always would and Bucky needed to toe a certain line until Sam was sure Levi was completely safe with him. It was a veiled threat, one that chafed Bucky even as he appreciated the fact that someone was willing to protect Levi, even against him, and one that he never would willingly break again.

Balancing an armload of snacks Bucky returned to Levi’s room, purposefully leaving the door open behind as a reminder to himself to behave; a movie was queued up to play and Levi was sprawled on her king-sized bed, her back to the headboard and that sight was enough to test his resolve but he forced his hunger down; any chance to be close to her was what he ultimately wanted and he wasn’t going to spoil today by panting around her like some oversexed dog.

Setting the snacks down within reach Bucky paused, standing uncertainly beside the bed until Levi grinned shyly up at him and patted the mattress next to her. He sat stiffly at first, keeping his arms and legs carefully away from Levi’s but it was supremely uncomfortable, not to mention downright awkward and Levi smiled reassuringly at him when he finally gave in during the opening credits and relaxed, his shoulder pressing lightly to hers, his thigh rolling to the side just enough to make contact with hers.

By the halfway point of the first movie, Levi had her knees drawn up to her chest and Bucky had given up all pretense of distance and now had his arm securely around Levi, pulling her closer while he leaned towards her, their heads touching, the blanket originally pooled at Levi’s feet now pulled up to cover both of them.

A deep peace settled over the scene and, in particular, the Winter Soldier himself. He’d be hard-pressed to name the last time he felt so languid and relaxed and despite the latent heat in his belly at being so close to Lev, the overwhelming sensation that Bucky was feeling was exhaustion.

For months his sleep had been broken, and he’d been spoiled by those few short weeks of serene rest that Levi’s presence had afforded him; his body now craved the dreamy, languorous calm that suffused his limbs and finally slowed the guilty thoughts and judgements that usually ran rampant through his brain. Being with Levi nourished and soothed his entire being and it had been too long since he’d last felt so comfortable and relaxed .

Levi broke away from Bucky, startling him just as his eyelids started to droop and he stared at her, blinking torpidly, watching as she pulled and fussed at the covers before finally sprawling on her side further down the bed, her back now facing him. Glancing back over her shoulder, Lev threw him an inviting wink and Bucky debated for all of a half-second before scrambling to follow, tucking himself up right behind her, fitting back into one of his favorite positions with Lev, the big spoon. It allowed him to snuggle close while still feeling free enough to be able to peel away and protect Levi if needed, a disconnect he doubted he’d ever be able to fully let go of.

Levi hummed happily, her head resting on her bent arm and Bucky propped his head up on his fist, leaning forwards quietly to press a series of lingering, tender kisses to the curve of her throat before resting his head gently on hers and pulling the blankets higher to cover them. His free arm looped over Levi’s side, intending to rest on the mattress near her but Levi grabbed his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together before pulling their joined hands briefly up to her mouth, where she kissed his fingers affectionately before tucking their hands against her chest, sighing one last time as her body when limp in Bucky’s embrace.

Fierce love swelled in Bucky’s chest, nearly stealing his breath and, if he was being honest, lighting his entire body on fire and he would have been embarrassed at the way his body responded to Levi’s touch, his cock growing and hardening, pressing insistently against his sweats to nudge against Levi’s ass if she hadn’t arched subtly back against him, sending a shiver through them both.

But Bucky was content to just be right now with Levi; knowing intimacy, the desperate, clawing need that seemed to overcome them both when they fully dropped their walls around each other, would come later and that right now this was all they needed and wanted.

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

After the game, in which Steve would have lost his shirt to Sam if they’d been betting for reals, he chanced a glance into Levi’s room; interestingly, she’d left the door open and no suggestive sounds drifted out to his enhanced ears to hint at any naughtiness but Steve was more than a little curious at just what they were up to. A surprised grin pulled at his lips and he gestured to Sam, who’d followed only because his room was on the same floor, to come look. The other man frowned in question before realization at just which door Steve was currently standing at hit him and he crept over with a devilish smirk, eyes dancing with mirth.

“What?” He whisper-yelled, prompting Steve to shush him frantically.

“Look!” Steve whisper-shouted back, pointing into the room, unable to stop a huge grin.

Sam looked, not entirely sure what he was about to see but betting it involved nudity and swallowed down a chuckle at the sight before him. He elbowed Steve, who beamed at the scene inside and jerked his chin at the blond.

“Leave them alone.” He whispered. “Let’s go watch another game.”

Reluctantly, it seemed, Steve pulled his fond gaze away and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Sam marched away and Steve turned to follow, his eyes falling once more on the tableau inside that so warmed his heart before shaking his head proudly and walking away.

On the bed, curled together so closely they were like one being, Bucky and Lev lay, fast asleep. Bucky still spooned Levi from behind, but their heads rested together, cheek to cheek, a look of utter contentment on both of their faces. The blankets had pulled down enough to show their entwined fingers, pressed to Levi’s chest and the sight was so goddamn intimate and adorable at the same time it nearly broke Steve’s heart. They needed this, they needed each other, and Steve was pleased beyond words that they finally seemed back on the right track.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien Drabble: Nachtmusik Chapter Five

A Little Night Music (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik) Chapter Five: ...the more they change.

(Okay, this actually takes place during Jabberwocky when Adrien is eighteen and a half and Luka is almost twenty-one. It takes place in August, two months after Chapter Twenty-Six: Boy of There’s a Daisy. Sorry if it’s a little confusing. I debated whether to post this or not. :/ I hope you enjoy it.)

Luka blinked.

Was that…? It was. Adrien Agreste at the bar with his back to the stage, chatting with Raoul the bartender.

Adrien Agreste wearing black leather pants with buckles up the thighs.

A primal shudder darted up Luka’s spine as Adrien shifted his weight.

He had such a nice—

“—You have a girlfriend,” Luka’s shoulder angel reminded him.

Luka looked over to where Marinette was laughing at something Mylène had said.

“A girlfriend who’s only dating you as a rebound because things with Adrien exploded,” Luka’s shoulder devil weighed in, having a less-than-positive effect on Luka’s self-esteem.

Objectively, Luka knew he should finish packing up his stuff and go sit with his girlfriend while the other bands played. He knew that increasing his proximity to Adrien wearing those pants was just asking for trouble, but…

Whereas Marinette would say something encouraging like, “You guys were wonderful! I really liked that third song. It was super intense”, Adrien would look at Luka in awe and breathe, “Did you write that third song? It was amazing! I loved the tension you built using those tritones. I could feel it mounting in my chest”.

Luka appreciated Marinette, he really did, but…he felt appreciated by Adrien, and he was really more in the mood for Adrien-style praise that evening. Pushing his reservations aside, Luka made his way over to his personal siren.

“Here he comes,” Raoul whispered to Adrien.

Adrien sucked in an anxious breath. “How do I look?”

Raoul snickered despite himself. “You’re golden, Dollface. He’s been staring at you the past two minutes trying to make up his mind to come over here, and now he’s taking the bait. All you have to do is reel him in.”

Adrien blew out a sigh of relief.

Raoul frowned. “Why did you two ever break up in the first place? You were disgustingly adorable two years ago.”

Adrien debated correcting Raoul’s assumption but eventually decided that it wasn’t worth it. “My father,” Adrien sighed. “He found out and made threats, and it was really ugly. I was scared, so I didn’t stick it out, and I didn’t put up a fight like Luka wanted to…. I was weak, and I…I was a stupid kid who didn’t realize he already had everything he’d always wanted.”

Raoul chuckled softly, a deep rumble like thunder rolling over the mountains. “Just do better this time.” He waved at Luka over Adrien’s shoulder and turned to go.

“Hey, Ariel.” Luka wore a besotted grin as he came up next to Adrien. He shoved his hands into his own back pockets so that he wouldn’t be tempted to try to put them into Adrien’s. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. Thanks for coming.”

“Hey, Orpheus,” Adrien greeted warmly, slowly turning to give Luka his most inviting smile.

In spite of his best intentions, Luka took note of Adrien’s lip gloss shimmering in the atmospheric, low light of the bar and absentmindedly wondered what Adrien’s smile tasted like.

“The photoshoot let out in time, so I thought I’d drop by,” Adrien was saying, angling his body towards Luka’s and stepping in a little closer, presumably to be heard over the din of the next band taking the stage. “I’m glad I did because tonight was spectacular. I can really tell which songs you wrote.” His voice dropped into a purr. “The third song tonight was genius. I loved the way you used the unresolved tritones to ratchet up the intensity. It reminded me of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony when he musically depicted his own impending heart attack. Your song gave me chills.”

Luka grinned, bruised self-esteem making a comeback with a little attention from Adrien. Why couldn’t Marinette say things like that?

“It’s not her fault she doesn’t have the musical vocabulary to stroke your ego. She says plenty of nice things about you and your work,” the shoulder angel reasoned.

“Well, I can’t deny my indebtedness to Mahler,” Luka admitted, “but I’m glad you found my approach enjoyable.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so humble. We’re all musically indebted to Mozart and Beethoven and Berlioz and Debussy. What’s important is what you do with your musical inheritance, and you just slipped classically-inspired musical themes into a rock song. I bow down to your creativity and knack for innovation.” Adrien dipped into a dramatic bow.

Luka laughed, taking his hands out of his pockets to pull Adrien back up. “Oh, please. Stop. You’re going to make me conceited.”

“You have every right to be,” Adrien insisted, hand coming to rest on Luka’s upper arm and squeezing gently. “You’re amazing.”

The breathless way Adrien said it stole the air from Luka’s lungs.

Luka gulped as his eyes locked with Adrien’s. “Yeah?”

When had they gotten so close?

Adrien ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Yeah.” His right hand came to rest on Luka’s hip, and his thumb started to stroke rhythmically, hypnotically.

“Hey,” Adrien breathed.

“Hm?” Luka answered distractedly.

“You’re done for the night, right? Wanna go somewhere else?” Adrien tempted. “Maybe take a walk…head back to your place…jam a little…. It’s been forever since we last had a sleepover.”

Luka’s mind fell down a flight of stairs.

That…sounded exactly like what Luka wanted to do. It would be just like before, before they’d been torn apart…. Only, it wouldn’t. Whereas the flirting and the tension between them had been innocent and subtle and beneath the surface two years prior, this, now—with Adrien’s thumb stroking Luka’s hip and the look in Adrien’s eyes and the leather pants clinging to Adrien’s skin—this was not subtle or innocent. This was overt, surface-level sexual tension. 

Adrien was no longer oblivious to the attraction between them. He was no longer questioning his sexuality or unsure of himself. Adrien was seducing him. On purpose. Adrien was picking him up. Adrien was asking to spend the night.

Mentally, Luka let out a string of curses. Two years ago, Luka would have seriously considered killing for this moment. Now? He didn’t know what to do with it. Was this a whim of Adrien’s or something lasting? Things had blown up between Adrien and Marinette…whom they were both in love with. Adrien had told Luka the details, told him how he was a mess emotionally, told him about the ups and downs of the year he’d been having mental health-wise. Was Adrien’s attraction to Luka any different than Marinette’s? Was Adrien using him too?

Luka took a step back.

Adrien’s eyes widened. His head tipped to the side questioningly.

Luka shook his head.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this to himself. He had to set up boundaries and protect his heart from those two. He had to preserve the friendships in hopes that someday either the man or the woman he loved would be emotionally healthy enough for a real relationship with him.

“I can’t,” Luka replied with an easy smile that cost him an incredible amount of energy to maintain. “Not tonight. Maybe some other day. Tonight, Marinette and the gang are here, and I’m supposed to be hanging out with them. I have to walk Marinette home.”

Disappointment was evident on Adrien’s face. “Oh. Okay.”

“Some other day, Ariel,” Luka assured, using the nickname to remind himself of the danger of the temptation.

Adrien nodded, fiddling with his ring. “So, I guess you have to go then? Or can I buy you a drink and gush about how talented you are a little?”

Luka bit his lip. Tempting, tempting, tempting. “Why don’t you come join us?” he suggested, knowing he would be sure to behave in front of the others.

“Who’s here?” Adrien craned his neck, looking for his acquaintances.

“Over there.” Luka pointed.

Adrien frowned, mentally sizing up the assembly: Juleka (actively opposed to Adrien getting close to Luka again), Mylène (skeptical of Adrien after the events of the year), Rose (an ally), Ivan (indifferent to the conflict but likely to side with Mylène), Alya (would kill him if she knew what was going on in his head), Marinette (…), Nino (compromised, caught in the middle). Not the most friendly crowd, and he would have to watch Marinette and Luka being couple-y together.

Adrien wasn’t sure what would be worse: watching Marinette fawn over Luka or watching Luka melt for Marinette. Both prospects sounded…honestly, like torture. It had been almost two months since Adrien had learned that they were dating, but…losing them to one another hadn’t gotten any easier, especially since he had started to understand his feelings for Luka.

“I don’t think I want to intrude on group date night.” Adrien smiled softly, letting a bit of the pain slip onto his lips unintentionally.

Luka frowned. “Group date night?”

“It’s all couples. I’d be the odd man out,” Adrien explained, keeping the smile in place with some effort.

Luka’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

Adrien shrugged unhappily. “Don’t worry about it. Hey, it was great getting to hear you play. Have fun with…with the others,” Adrien offered in parting, turning back to lean on the bar.

Luka blinked rapidly. “Wait. What are you going to do?”

“Oh, probably just get a drink, hang around for a little while, see if anyone asks me to dance. I don’t really feel like being alone at the moment, so going home to mope around by myself is out,” Adrien answered honestly.

Luka rested an elbow on the bar, his body bracketing Adrien’s. “Is there someone else you could call to hang out with? I don’t really like the idea of you drinking by yourself and getting hit on by strangers.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Adrien assured with a small but genuine grin as he met Luka’s eyes. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

“How can I help worrying about you?” Luka sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You make it so easy. You don’t handle alcohol well, and you drink too much without thinking when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset. Just a little melancholy.” Adrien shrugged. “Look, I swear I’m not trying to manipulate you into spending time with me. I’m actually okay, and I’m going to be okay having one drink and dancing with some random people and getting myself home. You don’t need to stress over it unless the real problem is you not liking the idea of me dancing with other people. I’ve got Plagg and Nooroo with me; I’ll be fine. If I’m not, they’ll make sure someone knows. So don’t let me ruin your evening. Go hang out with your friends…with your girlfriend. I’m sure they’re waiting for you.”

Luka bit his lip hard. “They can wait a little longer. I mean, I don’t have to go right this second. Didn’t you offer to buy me a drink and stroke my ego for a bit? I’m thirsty and could use the attention.”

Adrien gave a snorted laugh. “I could make so many jokes right now. Everything from ‘I don’t do quickies’ to ‘buy me dinner first’, but seeing as you have the sweetest, most giving girlfriend on the face of the planet, I will assume that your needs are being more than satisfied—”

“—You’d be surprised,” Luka thought darkly.

“—and skip the suggestive banter. I’d be happy to buy you a drink while I rave about your creative genius, though,” Adrien replied with a smirk.

Luka briefly contemplated remarking on how it really ground down your self-confidence and made you feel undesirable fast when your girlfriend always gave you her cheek when you tried to kiss her and looked incredibly uncomfortable when you told her you loved her. Luka wondered what Adrien would do with that information.

Adrien signaled for the bartender. “Raoul, could I please have a Pink Squirrel and…” He turned expectantly to Luka.

“Scotch. Splash of water, please.”

“Coming right up,” Raoul confirmed.

Luka raised an eyebrow at Adrien. “Pink Squirrel? Forgive me, but are you positive that you’re straight?”

“Rude.” Adrien kicked Luka in the ankle and stuck out his tongue. “I don’t believe in labels…and my drink preferences have nothing to do with whether or not I sleep with guys.”

Luka held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. That was in poor taste. I should know better.”

Adrien bit his lip. “…I think I’ve been guilty of worse, so I’m inclined to give you a get out of jail free card this time.”

“Your magnanimity is much appreciated,” Luka assured with a slight dip of his head.

“You’d better appreciate it.” Adrien rolled his eyes and smirked. “Next time, I’m making you grovel.”

“And it will serve me right.” Luka gave another bob of his head.

“Right,” Adrien affirmed. “…And while we’re on the subject, it’s not my fault that I like dessert-y drinks. I never get dessert.”

“Fair,” Luka agreed.

“I can’t help it that I like a little sugar with my alcohol,” Adrien continued in his own defence.

“Rather, you like a little alcohol with your sugar,” Luka snickered, feeling like they were back on solid enough ground to joke.

Adrien steamrolled forward, looking off to the side. “…just like I can’t help if there are certain boys I’d like to kiss.”

Luka’s brain stopped working. Did Adrien just…? Did Adrien mean…?

And, if so, what was Luka supposed to do with that?

Before Luka could really process that revelation, Adrien pressed on, “Besides, it’s Rose’s fault for introducing me to Pink Squirrels. Also, something Rose told me: apparently, it’s possible to be something called ‘biromantic’ while still being heterosexual…. And that’s as much as I think I should blurt out without having ‘I’m drunk’ as an excuse. But there you go; cards on the table,” Adrien spit out rapidly, twisting his ring round and round his finger. “Let’s talk about something else. I said I was going to talk your ear off about what a great musician you are, didn’t I? Has anyone told you how wonderful you are today?” The words spewed out of Adrien’s mouth, and Luka struggled to keep up.

“Wait.” Luka placed a hand on Adrien’s upper arm.

Adrien turned his head to smile the fakest, most personable smile he had in him. “How’s your girlfriend doing? I haven’t talked to her much lately,” he inquired civilly, as if speaking to a business acquaintance at a cocktail party.

Luka groaned softly in frustration.

Raoul approached and looked like he was about to say something teasingly, but he felt the mood between the two from a meter away and thought better of it, setting their drinks on the counter with a cordial nod.

“Oh, look,” Adrien observed cheerily. “Something to put in my mouth to shut me up.”

Luka choked on air as inappropriate suggestions rose in his mind.

“Before I destroy everything,” Adrien added under his breath, but then his joviality was back.

“I drink to you.” Adrien lifted his glass to Luka with a practiced smile covering his internal panic. He looked away and began to sip at the pink concoction.

“So…we’re not going to talk about this?” Luka sighed, ignoring his scotch for the time being.

Adrien shrugged. “What?—Here? Now? No. I’m supposed to be talking about your music for a bit before you have to go back to your girlfriend. Besides, there’s nothing to talk about,” he answered a touch sullenly down into his drink.

“You just told me you wanted to kiss me,” Luka laughed, on the brink of hysteria but covering it up brilliantly. “And we’re not going to discuss that?”

“I never said I wanted to kiss you,” Adrien corrected, still not looking at Luka. “I said I couldn’t help it if I wanted to kiss certain boys. I was talking about Nino.”

Luka’s mind ground to a sudden halt as he tried to figure out if that was true or merely a diversion.

“Because I’m a home-wrecking slut,” Adrien laughed with a sweet smile that proved jarring in its juxtaposition with the words it accompanied.

Luka’s hand squeezed Adrien’s arm tighter. “No, you’re not.”

“Fine,” Adrien relented. “I’m an aspiring home-wrecking slut. I guess I can’t claim the title until I actually wreck something, but…I want to wreck them. Isn’t that bad enough?”

Part of Luka’s mind thought that, yes, this was very, very bad indeed. Adrien wasn’t looking for a relationship. As per usual, he was seeking affection and attention, and he was coming back to where he’d found it in abundance two years prior…but, this time, Luka’s supply couldn’t meet Adrien’s demand. It was a tricky situation, and Luka could tell that between Marinette and Adrien, his own heart was going to walk out of this one in tatters…if it could walk at all once those two were done with it.

Still….

“What if Nino wants you to kiss him?”

Adrien slowly turned an incredulous glare on Luka. “Please don’t patronize me. Why the hell would Nino want to kiss me? He’s in a relationship with the girl of his dreams. He’s been crazy in love with his girlfriend for years. Why would he risk messing that up for me?”

“…You still don’t think you’re worth anything, do you?” Luka realized, his stomach going sour.

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously, I’m athletic, and, on the outside, I’m gorgeous, but inside I’m a monster. I’m not worthless, but I’m sure as hell not going to get picked over Mar—over Alya.”

“Angel,” Luka whispered, conveying so much meaning in so few syllables.

Adrien looked up, his heart fluttering at the old nickname. He’d been “Ariel” in the months since their reunion. It had been a long time since Luka had called him Angel or Perfect Fifth in that tender, all-embracing way of his.

“Adrien,” Luka corrected. “You are not the monster. The monster is the ugliness inside of yourself that you’re fighting against…and everyone has something inside themselves like that…even Alya.”

Adrien found himself unable to speak, so he gave Luka a wavering yet grateful smile instead.

“Besides,” Luka shrugged, picking up his scotch and taking a sip. “There are so many good things about you that you didn’t even mention.”

Adrien was about to challenge Luka to name one when Luka continued, “Like your beautifully awful sense of humor and your virtuosic piano abilities and your encyclopedic knowledge of cheese.”

Adrien burst out laughing as the tense atmosphere was obliterated. “You still…say the sweetest things,” he chortled.

Luka shrugged. “Eh. I know where your buttons are…just like how you always have your fingers on mine.”

Adrien’s laughter died down, and a tentative smile settled onto his lips. “…Sometimes I wonder if I still know where they are or if they’ve shifted in the time we’ve been apart. You still seem like the same you, but…a year and a half is a long time. I feel like I’ve probably missed something important.”

Luka took another sip of his scotch, considering before answering, “Yes and no. I’m different, but I’m still me. All the important bits are there…and, as for the rest, we have plenty of time to catch up now that your father isn’t being a psycho and keeping us apart. If I have new ‘buttons’, I’m confident you’ll find them and start pressing them eventually…probably sooner rather than later.”

“Good to know you believe in me,” Adrien hummed and then paused. “…Are we okay?”

He cast a nervous, sidelong glance at Luka. “I didn’t ruin everything, did I?”

Luka frowned. “No. Of course not. I mean—” He winced and hastily corrected, “—of course we’re okay.”

Adrien blew out a slow breath. “Okay. Good. Sorry. As I’m sure you’ll remember, I kind of suck at the whole self-worth thing, and I’m constantly worrying that people are going to stop caring about me overnight if I make a mistake, so…and I know things are kind of odd between us with the whole…well. Me being in love with your girlfriend, so… And probably me bringing up wanting to wreck things between Alya and Nino so that I could kiss him was…”

“Adrien?” Luka bumped Adrien’s arm gently. “It’s okay. I say this in the most loving, accepting way possible, but…I know you’re a mess. I accept that you are a screwed-up human being with crazy, ugly stuff going on in your life…. I still like you and want to be your friend. We’re okay.”

Adrien studied Luka’s face for a minute before nodding solemnly. “Okay. You should probably be canonized as the patron saint of patience and radical acceptance, but I’m really glad to hear that you feel that way.”

Luka’s lips pulled into a lopsided smirk as he raised his glass. “To friendship and radical acceptance.”

Adrien clinked his glass against Luka’s and drank.

“…So…” Adrien led in after a measure of silence, his voice gliding up to land on the note.

Luka cocked an eyebrow.

“The last song you guys played. That was one of yours too, right?” Adrien angled his body slightly away from the bar counter and more towards Luka as Adrien’s desire to close himself off dissipated.

Luka nodded. “Yeah. Thoughts?”

“You’re a genius.” Adrien shrugged. “Second coming of Mozart.”

Luka scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Blasphemy. Seriously, what did you think? No flattery. I respect your musical opinion more than almost anyone, so please give it to me.”

“I am being serious,” Adrien assured. “Your sound is so unique. People are going to go crazy for you once you get some more exposure. I honestly can’t offer you a critique because you’re legitimately just that good, Luka.”

The earnest adoration in Adrien’s eyes and voice turned Luka’s legs to jelly. This was exactly what he needed to patch up the wounds of inadequacy his relationship with Marinette had been inflicting upon him.

“Careful, Ariel. You’re going to give me a big head,” he chuckled, leaning on the bar, gravitating closer.

Adrien rolled his eyes. “If anyone deserves to have a big head, it’s you. Seriously. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Okay,” Luka relented. “If you won’t give me a critique, at least tell me what specifically you liked so I can do something similar in the future.”

“In the last song?” Adrien took a sip of his drink and then licked the creamy remnants from his top lip. “The bass line. Particularly, about halfway through, that descending chromatic. Ugh.” Adrien’s eyelids fluttered in ecstasy. “It made me melt. Nothing makes me go all tingly faster than those low notes. It’s like aural pornography.”

“N-Noted,” Luka gulped, suddenly getting all manner of ideas that he had no business entertaining. He did not need to know how to musically seduce Adrien Agreste. “What else?”

Adrien bit his lip. “There’s this leitmotif that’s been showing up in your work lately.”

Luka shifted uncomfortably, knowing exactly what Adrien was referring to and not wanting to own up to its inspiration.

“It’s not even the main theme, and sometimes it only pops up once in a piece for just a second, but it’s pervasive throughout your recent oeuvre. It’s the same sequence of serpentine, kind of…gypsy, tarantella, Habanera, Anitra’s Dance…sort of played as a mix between a tango and a waltz. You know what I’m talking about?” Adrien eyed Luka expectantly.

Luka shifted again, taking a sip of his scotch before replying in an offhanded way. “Oh. The Siren Leitmotif. It’s…been stuck in my head lately…kind of driving me nuts. I didn’t realize that it was ending up in…well, everything.”

“Siren Leitmotif?” Adrien echoed with an arched eyebrow.

Luka cleared his throat. “You know how Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique musically tells the story of a musician’s unrequited love and how it gradually drives him mad?”

Adrien, familiar with the piece, nodded.

Luka continued, “And you know how throughout the piece the idea of his beloved is represented by the same repeating musical phrase? I guess the Siren Leitmotif is kind of like that.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

The leitmotif was Marinette.

Suddenly, Adrien didn’t care for the tune as much as he had before.

“It’s…I like it. It’s very…exotic,” Adrien did his best to cover the abrupt turn his mood had taken. “…It doesn’t sound very much like Marinette, though—at least, not to me,” he hurriedly amended.

But then, Adrien reasoned, Adrien wasn’t Marinette’s boyfriend. Chat Noir and Marinette had only made out once. Phenomenal though it had been, it wasn’t actually a lot to go on. How would Adrien really know what Marinette was like intimately?

A terrible realization: Were Marinette and Luka sleeping together?! They must be. They’d been going out for two months, and Luka was crazy about Marinette. Surely, at this point in time, Marinette had fallen wildly in love with Luka—how could she not have?

“Because it isn’t,” Luka replied, cutting into Adrien’s downward mental spiral.

Adrien blinked, backtracking. “Because it isn’t…what?”

Because the Siren Leitmotif wasn’t…Marinette? But then…who? Who the hell else could it be? Who had managed to get into Luka’s head, capture his attention enough to subconsciously permeate into Luka’s music? Who could—?

“Siren,” Adrien whispered. “As in…a mermaid?”

Luka frowned but then nodded.

Slowly, a vindicated grin spread across Adrien’s lips. “As in…Disney’s The Little Mermaid…Ariel?”

Luka’s face went ashen and then flushed. He looked away, bringing his glass up to his mouth, hiding behind it.

“You know,” Adrien giggled in glee, “for the longest time, I thought that nickname was a Shakespeare’s The Tempest reference, but…”

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” Luka muttered into his drink, his shoulders scrunching up in horrified mortification with a touch of dread.

“I’m your siren,” Adrien continued to laugh, suddenly over the moon because Luka was thinking about him. He’d gotten into Luka’s head, under Luka’s skin.

Luka sighed audibly, setting down his glass and running a hand through his hair.

Adrien turned his body so that he was facing Luka full on. “Don’t make that face,” he cooed.

“I’m not making a face,” Luka grumbled. “What face?”

Adrien gave Luka’s nose a poke. “The face you make when you wish you had a guitar in your hands so that you didn’t have to talk.”

Luka lifted an eyebrow. “I have a face for that?”

Adrien nodded, the teasing coming out of his voice to be replaced by softness. “Yeah, but you usually don’t make it at me. At least you didn’t…before. I guess things have changed.”

Luka chewed on his bottom lip, reluctantly meeting Adrien’s uncertain gaze. “Not as much as you seem to think.”

“…I thought you were over me,” Adrien admitted.

“In all fairness? I thought I was too…until you ran smack into me at that party two months ago.” Luka shook his head. “I mean, I knew a part of me would always have feelings for you, but…I didn’t anticipate…” His brow furrowed deeply. “These past few months have been emotionally confusing as we’ve become friends again and you’ve reminded me of all the things time and distance helped me to forget.”

Adrien took a step closer, his thigh brushing Luka’s. “…Am I driving you nuts?” he whispered, his hand coming to rest on Luka’s chest and slowly trailing up to Luka’s shoulder.

“Cards on the table?” Luka breathed in frustration. “Yes. Between you and Marinette, I am going insane. I’m glad you find this so amusing.”

“Hey, I have a leitmotif,” Adrien chuckled, ���and it is sexy and alluring and vibrant and fierce and…and that’s how this really amazing guy thinks of me? You have made my week. Yes, I’m amused. Are you kidding? I’m freaking ecstatic. Luka, I have felt so low this year. I’ve felt ugly and-and like a total dumpster fire. I’ve felt unsalvageable, but…God, your music is beautiful, and that theme is supposed to be me? I feel…” Finally the emotions caught up with Adrien, and he got choked up. “…so good right now. Genuinely good.”

Luka’s mouth (which had dropped open around the part where Adrien had called Luka amazing) flapped open and closed impotently. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words weren’t coming together. He really wished he had a guitar so that he could play Adrien what he was feeling.

Adrien smiled, patting Luka’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. You can play it for me later,” he assured.

Luka nodded. “You think I’m amazing?”

Adrien cracked up a little. “Luka, I legitimately think you’re the second coming of Mozart. What higher praise do you want from me?”

“Snap,” Luka chuckled giddily. “You were serious about that.”

“Yes. Yes, I was.” Adrien rolled his eyes.

Luka’s entire face went carnelian.

“It’s so easy to make you happy,” Adrien observed with a hum of amusement. He rubbed his knee up Luka’s thigh and snatched Luka’s hand, spiriting it to Adrien’s lips for a butterfly kiss. “And you’re so cute when you blush.”

Luka’s flush deepened as both his tongue and his stomach tied themselves into knots.

“You’re sure I can’t steal you for the night?” Adrien hummed, wanting nothing more than to go back to the Liberty for shared music and deep, meaningful chats and snuggling in Luka’s bed and maybe even a kiss or four or six or eight.

Luka gave a little gasp of realization and tried to take a step back, but Adrien followed. “I don’t…Ariel, this isn’t just platonic flirting anymore.”

Adrien thought about it for a minute before agreeing. “…No. No, it’s not.”

“I can’t do this,” Luka breathed plaintively.

Adrien bit his lip, studying Luka’s face.

Luka’s normally clear blue eyes were cloudy as they begged, “Please don’t make me do this” but at the same time whispered, “You could make me do this…if you really wanted to”.

Adrien’s fingers dipped into Luka’s jacket pocket and pulled out a guitar pick. He stepped back to a reasonable distance and began to roll the pick back and forth over his knuckles, between his fingers.

He looked down at the remains of his drink in the glass on the counter and sullenly considered his situation. He felt frustrated that he’d missed out when Luka had been available and very much in love with the oblivious and confused Adrien. He felt cheated now that Luka was with Marinette so that Adrien couldn’t be with either of them. He was jealous. Marinette didn’t need Luka. If she didn’t want Adrien, why couldn’t she be with any of the dozen other guys who had crushes on her? Did it have to be Luka?

He turned the question back on himself: Did it have to be Luka? Did it have to be Marinette? Could he somehow extract himself from the situation and figure out how to be okay? He’d been doing so much better in respect to his mental health the past few months. Did he really need to complicate things with his relationships?

No…but he wanted to. He wanted love and affection—Luka’s kisses and fond smiles, Marinette’s thoughtful gestures and adoring looks, kind words and praise and light touches and—if Adrien couldn’t have Marinette, he could at least have Luka, couldn’t he? Marinette didn’t need Luka. And Adrien could be good to him. Would be good to him. There would be other men for Marinette, and Luka would have Adrien, so no one was really missing out if Adrien took it upon himself to…rearrange the relationships between them…right?

“But aren’t you doing it already?” Adrien hummed.

Luka’s face lost all color.

“I mean…the Siren Leitmotif has been showing up in your work these past two months, hasn’t it?” he challenged. “Even without me doing anything to actively encourage things between us, I’ve been on your mind, haven’t I?”

“Adrien,” Luka sighed, gripping at the roots of his hair. “Look. I realize that I’ve been unfaithful to Marinette in my thoughts, but there’s a big difference between…”

Adrien let the guitar pick fly out of his hand. “Whoops.”

Luka abruptly went silent as Adrien dropped into a feline-like crouch to retrieve the guitar pick and then slowly rolled up, leading with his behind in a way that gave Luka all kinds of bad ideas.

Adrien turned back around and smiled impishly as he purred, “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Adrien,” Luka groaned at the object of his desire’s deliberate teasing.

“Luka,” Adrien echoed, playing innocent.

Luka shook his head. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” he accused. “And I’m asking you to stop.”

Adrien slipped the guitar pick back into Luka’s pocket and looked away with a pout.

“Adrien,” Luka called firmly, taking Adrien by the shoulders and forcing him to look at Luka. “Please. We both know that you don’t really want what you’re pretending that you want.”

Adrien frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Luka explained patiently, his hands moving up to Adrien’s face, “that you don’t really want to seduce me. Didn’t you just tell me a little bit ago that you weren’t sexually attracted to other guys when you alluded to being biromantic heterosexual? Haven’t you told me before that you’re not interested in a relationship right now while you’re not emotionally well? Adrien, you don’t want to sleep with me. You don’t want to be with me. You don’t want to grow old together or build a life with me or take care of sick kids or figure out how to finance buying a house. You’re not thinking of any of that.”

Luka’s voice was soft and not accusing or angry or bitter, but there was a pain in Luka’s eyes that cut through Adrien, filling him with guilt anyway.

He was doing what Marinette had done to him to Luka. All of the sudden, Adrien felt vile, lower than dirt.

“Luka, I’m sorry. I—”

Luka cut him off with a finger pressed to Adrien’s lips. “Shh. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s really not,” Adrien wanted to argue.

“I know you’re going through a lot,” Luka assured. “I know you just want attention and affection. Things, first with Ladybug and then Marinette, haven’t been easy for you, and even though your father is doing a better job in recent months, there’s still a big affection deficit in your life that’s going to take a long time to fill. I know that you don’t mean to hurt me and that you weren’t thinking about what effect your actions would have on me at all, really. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

Luka ran a thumb over Adrien’s lips, eyes pinning Adrien like a butterfly. “We have three options. One, you get one hundred percent serious about me.” Luka paused to let his words sink in. “Two, we stay just friends with normal levels of platonic flirting, and I keep trying to maintain a hold on my feelings for you.” Another solemn pause for reflection. “Three,” Luka winced. “we don’t see each other anymore.”

Adrien’s hand flew to Luka’s wrist, gripping tightly. His bottom lip trembled. He shook his head. He couldn’t even verbalize a response.

Luka smiled reassuringly, giving Adrien’s cheek a comforting pat. “Well, then, behave, okay? Don’t tempt me because I’m not a cheater. I want to keep being around you because you make me feel genuinely good too. You’re a precious friend to me, Adrien. I don’t want to lose that again. Having you ripped away from me once was hard enough.”

Adrien shook his head, feeling very much afraid. “You were wrong…. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.” He couldn’t get over the sinking feeling that he was going to wreck everything once more.

“Hey.” Luka’s thumb gently stroked Adrien’s cheek. “Shhh. Calm down. It’s going to be fine. Just breathe. Don’t panic. We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

Adrien took a deep breath, body shaking. He nodded. “Sorry about the mood swings. I swear I’m fine. I just…”

“Close your eyes,” Luka instructed.

Adrien frowned but did as asked. A second later he felt gentle kisses placed on his eyelids, Luka’s breath warm on his face as Luka whispered, “You’re okay, Perfect Fifth.”

Adrien’s grip on Luka’s forearm tightened. “Luka…” His eyes fluttered open. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good,” he promised.

Luka smiled. “I know you will. I’ll do my best on my end as well.”

A cacophony of texts began to pour in on Luka’s phone, snapping the two out of the moment.

“The hell?” Luka frowned as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Sorry.”

A text came in on Adrien’s phone too.

Luka cursed under his breath as he read, “WTH do u think ur doing?!” from Juleka followed by an onslaught of question marks and exclamation points sent individually so that Luka could not ignore her.

“It’s my sister. She disapproves,” Luka sighed, typing back, “we’re just talking”, “chill”.

“Apparently, from Nino’s angle, it looked like you kissed me for real,” Adrien groaned. “He’s freaking out.”

Luka ran a hand back and forth through his hair vigorously. “Yeah, he’s coming over here.”

Adrien cursed softly, grabbing Luka’s scotch glass. “I’m going to need this,” he grumbled, downing the rest of the contents with a wince before turning to face Nino.

“What the hell, Mec?!” Nino hissed, taking Adrien by the arm and tugging him. “Have you completely lost your mind? You’ve completely lost your mind!”

“Nino,” Luka interceded. “This is a misunderstanding. I just kissed him on the cheek. It wasn’t—”

“—You. Don’t even start with me,” Nino warned, waving a finger in Luka’s face. “I like you, Luka, but you’re screwing around with two of my best friends. You are on thin ice.”

“Nino,” Adrien sighed, pulling on Nino’s arm. “I’m the one trying to seduce him. You should be yelling at me.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “You are having a quarter-life crisis. You and I will have a talk later when you’re sober, Adrien, but, for now, he’s taking advantage of you, and—”

“—Are you sure about that?” Adrien scoffed. “Because I’m having to do a heck of a lot of the work, and I don’t feel like he’s deriving any benefit from me. Maybe someone should teach him how to take advantage better.”

Nino gritted his teeth. “Adrien—”

“—Okay.” Luka stepped in. “This is not a productive conversation. Maybe we need to call a time out and discuss things later when we’re feeling more level-headed.”

Adrien and Nino both snorted.

“Adrien, Nino’s just concerned because he cares about you,” Luka reasoned calmly, trying to defuse the situation. “Nino, yes, Adrien is having a rough time lately, but he’s not a child. Now, if we could all take a deep breath?”

Begrudgingly, Nino and Adrien inhaled slowly in tandem.

“Good. Nino?”

Nino cocked an eyebrow, not letting go of his attitude entirely, lest Luka mistakenly think he’d been forgiven.

“I want to make sure Adrien gets home safely. Since I don’t think you’d approve of me escorting him, could you please take him or see that he gets into an Agreste vehicle?”

Nino shrugged. “I was planning on it.”

“Good,” Luka repeated. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go check in with the others.”

“Wait.” Adrien reached out a hand as Luka made to go.

Luka read the anxiety on Adrien’s face and smiled. “Don’t worry,” he assured. “We’re good. I’ll text you later?”

Adrien nodded, conjuring up a smile in answer.

Nino sighed as they watched Luka walk away. “Mec…I understand that your whole life is exploding this year, but couldn’t you have picked any other guy? Literally any other guy? Why do you have to set yourself up to get hurt?”

Adrien shrugged, looping his arm through Nino’s. “Literally any other guy?”

“Yes,” Nino insisted.

Adrien chuckled, leaning in to lick Nino’s cheek. “Don’t you think Alya will mind sharing?”

Nino cursed under his breath. “Dude. Don’t make me bite you.”

“There’s a snapping turtle joke in there somewhere,” Adrien mused.

Nino shook his head, pulling Adrien towards the exit. “You keep me up nights worrying about you.”

Adrien was silent for a few steps before answering. “…Sorry…. Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Nino assured, bumping Adrien’s hip with his own.

( Now, who clicked on the link in "I drink to you"? Those of you who did were confused, weren't you? Unless you're familiar with Wagner's leitmotifs in Tristan und Isolde. Adrien is making a joke that he doesn't expect anyone else to get. In the opera, Tristan and Isolde think that they're drinking poison, but Isolde's maid has put a love potion in the cup instead. Tristan drinks first, and then Isolde snatches the cup from him, claiming that half is for her. She says, "I drink to you" (as the leitmotif in the link plays), and they fall in love instead of dying. Their unfortunate, star-crossed love dooms them to death anyway. Adrien is being melodramatic and seeing parallels between his own star-crossed, hopeless situation and the opera. This is just a little piece of subtle character psychology that I snuck in...until you know it's there, and then it's ham-fisted and glaring...but that should give you some background for what's going through Adrien's head as he says the line.)

[officially-tonynat-shrine]

How the world works

Ok, so this is my very first one shot and I'm fucking excited for it. This is for @captain-ariel-barnes 4k writing challenge (Congratulations on that one!❤️). Criticism- good or bad- is welcomed because if I intend to continue I need tips. I am hoping that you like it! Also, there are a lot of time lapses. And it's long. Probably boring too since it has very less dialogues. (I was also supposed to post this on Steve's birthday buuuttttt--- eheheh)

Summary: Soulmate AU wherein the first sentence spoken appears on the left arm one to three months prior the first meet and vanishes immediately after.

Pairing: Steve x female reader // Timeline: Set after AoU

Warnings: Swearing. Foul language. Weird swears (that's on me, I'm sorry). A little OOC Steve??, nonsensical logic, // Words: around 3K, I guess?

----•••----

The 21st century was progressing faster than ever. And not only in terms of time. People were catching up with the technological advances; some easily whereas some were just coping. Steve considered himself in the second category. Anyone who knew him would definitely agree. After all, that's what happens when one decides to take a nap and wake up 70 years later.

The sudden boost in the living conditions, the sky rocketing buildings and especially the immense development in technology and science baffled him to a great extent.

But in all of this chaos, Steve found solace in the fact that soulmates still existed. It was one of the few terms he was already familiar with. Some things never change. And he fervently hoped that this never would either.

He was sitting in the common room of the new headquarters when Sam barged in. Steve looked up from his iPad and raised his eyebrows, silently questioning his partner. Sam opened his mouth and all but panted for more oxygen.

"Sometimes I think you are the old man, Wilson." Steve smirked at his friend's discomfort. "Shut up, Steroids. I got wonderful news."

Steve bolted upright upon hearing those words. They has been searching for Bucky for quite some time now. Sam recognised the anticipation in his eyes and the former's grin fell slightly.

"Sorry, Cap. No word about Weiner's whereabouts."

"I- Will you stop calling him that?!"

"Hey! We needed a code name so that people won't understand who we're talking about!"

"Yes! But" -Steve let out an exasperated sigh- "never mind. What news was it?" "I found her," Sam grinned. This was the first time he had seen Sam smiling so widely. He knew what the man meant immediately.

"Your soulmate?" "Yes." "Which store was this again?" Steve smirked. "This was the 36th store I had visited. Har har, Steve. So funny." Sam deadpanned. "I bet you'll do the same when you get yours," he added.

Steve's smile faded as he took in Sam's words. "Prepare to lose then, Birdman." He shot Sam a weak grin. Sam's shoulders slumped as he joined Steve on the couch. "Come on, man. Everyone has a soulmate! Why would you think that you won't meet yours? And" -he raised his hand stopping Steve from answering and continued- "if you think that they'll be bothered about your job then dude, you need to think again. You're Captain fricking America!"

"It's not that, Sam." "Then what is it?" "I know that I won't be seeing words etched in my skin because they don't appear twice."

Steve sighed as his fingers grazed the words on his left arm again. It wasn't necessary to know who his soulmate was when he knew he was going to get rejected anyway. Who would want a 90 pound asthmatic riddled with all the diseases in the world as their soulmate? Heavens, he couldn't even walk five yards and not get beaten into pulp.

Did you have something against running away?

Peggy Carter was one of the few people that encouraged him to keep going. He knew she wouldn't look down upon him. She wouldn't edge away in disappointment. Yet, his confidence -or lack thereof- kept him from talking to her. Then, he was taken to the lab. There, in that car, the words on his left arm vanished. And he knew that he was the luckiest of them all.

"Something's bothering you." Her voice brought him back to the present. He had immediately left for the hospital after the encounter with Sam. She was basking in the glow of the sun. He knew that what they had was now lost forever but his love for her never diminished; nor did his respect or admiration.

He smiled, trying to word his thoughts. He should have known better than that. She had always understood him even if he hadn't said a word.

"You'll find someone, Steve. My husband wasn't my soulmate, yes. But we bonded over what we had lost and we truly loved each other. That's all it requires. Faith and love."

"I don't know if I can give them the best life, Peg." "Then don't. If someone loves you wholeheartedly, then they'll love every quirk, every weakness and every strength of yours with their whole being. And when they do that, they accept you the way you are. Not the way they want you to be. All that will matter is to be by your side and lead a life together."

Steve smiled uncertainly, silently hoping that maybe -just maybe- he'd be able to achieve the same happiness his soulmate had experienced. Back in the 40s, Steve had cherished the thought of having a soulmate. A better half, figuratively and literally in his case, to spend the life with. He had been ecstatic, extremely so, when Peggy had spoken the words. But his bliss had not lasted long. The events of the war had not only taken away 70 years of what his life could have been, but also the prospective of growing old together with his soulmate. And now that he was confronted with the options of either loving someone who could eventually find their soulmate or living his life alone, he did not know which one was better.

••••×ו•••

Three weeks had passed after his chat with Peggy. After a rigorous training session with Wanda, Steve had settled comfortably on the couch and was checking out the current internet slangs. When his forearm started pricking, he assumed he must've been sitting still for too long. Nevertheless, he didn't move. A few moments later, his arm pricked again.

At first, he passed it off as an itch. Then, when the pricking persisted, he recognised the sensation. He dropped his iPad on the couch and ran towards his room. As he rolled up his left sleeve he could feel the itch subside. His heart dropped. The words had filled his forearm. He stared at the black ink. Fate was cruel. And far more so to him. His heart sank as he eyed his mark. The very first word was another man's name. He did not even bother to read the rest. Wrapping a spare bandage so that it covered his forearm, Steve swore never to look at it ever again.

||»»||

When (Y/N) was younger, she had always wondered how she'll meet her soulmate. She had heard wonderful anecdotes from near and dear ones. She would eagerly await her maternal grandparents' arrival. Their stories about soulmates were always fascinating to her. Her favourite was certainly the beautiful tale of her grandparents' meeting. But all of it changed when she turned ten. When her mother met her soulmate.

(Y/N)'s grandparents were lucky enough to have met their spouses at an early age. Her parents were not so fortunate. Simply put, they were not soulmates. Her father had met his soulmate but fate had snatched them away from him. His wounds were still fresh when he had met (Y/N)'s mother. They had been cautious about their feelings for each other due to obvious reasons. (Y/N)'s mother had waited patiently for months for her soulmate mark to appear. When months turned into years, they couldn't deny the inevitable attraction they felt. Within a year of marriage, (Y/N) was born and their family was happier than ever. That was until her mother's mark had appeared.

By age fifteen, (Y/N) had two dads whom she loved equally and a mom whom she loved unconditionally. She thanked the Lord everyday for such caring and understanding parents. But now, at twenty four years of age, she had started to wonder whether her fate would be like her father or her mother.

•

She wasn't exceptionally late for her evening shift- only by five minutes. She was sure that her boss would excuse her for her slight tardiness. (Y/N) started folding her pyjamas when she felt a jab in her left arm. She dropped the cloth and yelped. As she drew her arm nearer for better view her eyes widened.

"What the fuck?!" (Y/N) was positive that her screams had reached her neighbour's apartment but she couldn't care less. She scrambled around and picked up her phone to call her boss.

"Hey, Francine! I'm so sorry for such a late notice but I won't be able to make it today. I'm really not feeling well. I'll make it up by working extra tomorrow, I promise. Can I take a leave today, please?"

After being assured by Francine that there was no need to work extra the next day and to take care of herself, she cut the call. Hastily grabbing a jacket she ran out of her apartment praying that her best friend would be home at this hour.

(Y/N) rang Claire's bell three times and waited. She had called her up on her way to the latter's house and explained the situation briefly. It would have hardly been a minute when she heard a string of curses from inside the house. The door opened to reveal Claire with an anticipating look on her face. She pulled (Y/N) in and shut the door.

"Did you really get your mark?!" She screeched happily.

"Hi, (Y/N)! I haven't seen you in so long! You got your soulmate mark too! I hope you two live happily, (Y/N)!" taunted (Y/N).

"Oh hush, you finally got your mark!!! Will you show it to me? Please?" Claire begged.

"Patience, my dear Claire." The former teased her friend.

"Oh please, I'll learn to be patient when you learn to swear less." "Touché."

(Y/N) rolled up the sleeve of her jacket and thrust her arm in Claire's direction.

"What the fuck! Who even speaks like that?!"

"I know, right! I just hope whoever they are, they turn out to be drunk. That's the only plausible explanation to this." (Y/N) frantically points at her mark.

Claire was pleasantly surprised by her best friend's mark. Out of all the hilarious marks she had seen or read about online, this had to be the most absurd. Nevertheless, she vowed never let (Y/N) live that down.

••••× Five Days Later ו•••

Tony had decided to visit the new facility and Vision had taken to giving him a tour of the newly renovated spaces.

Wanda and Vision, both, had noticed something off with the Captain for quite a few days. He would always be agitated. Quite a few times, Wanda had even managed to get him startled and she recalled that every single time she had touched his left shoulder. They had consulted with Sam, who himself was worried about his friend, and had decided that they'll all talk it out of him during dinner. Tony being present had added to their manpower. Consequently, the billionaire was made aware of the plan too.

Dinner was usually a loud affair in the new Avengers Headquarters. But that night, the awkwardness could be sensed from a mile away. Steve was getting irritated by their vague behaviour. At last, he broke the silence.

"Alright, which one of you is going to tell me what happened?" Wanda and Sam had been eyeing each other for the past five minutes.

Sam cleared his throat before asking, "What is up with you, Cap? You are always distracted. Have been for almost five days now."

Steve's eyes widened at the accusation- however accurate- Sam had thrown at him so blandly. He composed himself as quickly and shook his head, refusing to open his mouth lest he blurted out everything. The futile exchange went back and forth for a few minutes until Tony, who had quietly been watching, spoke up.

"Listen, Spangles. We are all worried about you. And if you deny anything these three have said" -he waved his hand at Wanda, Sam and Vision, before continuing- "then I'll tell you want they have been wanting to say but can't just because they respect your stupid ass decision to not speak out. I call bullshit. Cap, if you say that you haven't been acting weird then I'll kindly remind you that this building is run by F.R.I.D.A.Y who'll be more than glad to show footages of anything I ask. Look," he sighed, "we are a team, man. And if you don't trust us then we can't help you. You'll have to open up, dude."

Steve stared at Tony, overwhelmed by his speech. He blinked a few times and sat straight, clearing his throat in the process.

"Okay, I- Look, this is- well, extremely weird and I, I didn't want to burden you guys. But-" "Spit it out, Steve." Wanda reprimanded him lightly.

"My soulmate mark appeared a few days ago." He put his head in his hands and sighed defeatedly.

•

Laughter rang across the room as Sam tried to support himself on the dining table.

"You have got to be kidding me," he barked out amidst coughs. "Do I look like I am kidding you, Sam?" Steve snarled. "My god, Cap. I want to meet this person. They sound wonderful," Sam wheezed.

"Sure, I'll tell them that you're a fan of their work methods." "Stop sassing me, old man."

After a hour of relentless pestering, Steve had undone his bandage and read out his mark- or had at least tried to read it out aloud, before turning red in embarrassment. Wanda had tried to avoid laughing in his face but Tony was laughing so hysterically that it set her off too. Steve's only consolation was that Vision was smiling apologetically at him. As he tuned out his surroundings only one question lingered in his mind- How was this possible?

||»»||

(Y/N) had almost completed her evening shift when she heard the shop's bell ringing. She looked up from the shelves she was arranging and plastered a smile to greet the newcomer. It did not last long.

"Andrew." She seethed.

"Why, hello (Y/N)." The man in question drawled amusedly.

"What do you want?" (Y/N) couldn't avoid the distaste in her voice.

"Can't I drop by to say hi to you?" Andrew flashed a smirk. Annoyed, you quick to reply.

"Well then, hi to you too. Now if you're not going to be buying anything then please leave."

"Ah,in that case, I happen to remember something I had to buy!" He threw a sly, victorious glance at the woman and sauntered towards the grocery aisle. (Y/N) bit her tongue. She had dug her own grave and now she had to lay in it. Furious, she went back to rearranging the shelves.

||»»||

Steve was craving for a few hours of peace. After the eventful dinner, Steve decided to retire early and returned to his quarters. He sat on his bed, resting his head on the wall for a few minutes. He remembered storing some of Thor's infamous Asgardian Mead in his room. He took a bottle out from the wine cabinet and downed it in one go. Wrong move on his part but he wouldn't regret it until later. Yearning some clear air, Steve grabbed his hoodie and walked out of the tower. He informed F.R.I.D.A.Y. of his plans and exited the compound. He walked onto the busier streets and scanned a few shops hoping to find one without many people. The night crowd was chattering away, not sparing a single glance at him. As he neared the quieter end of the street he peered inside a modest general store. He thanked his lucky stars and entered the nearly empty shop.

||»»||

(Y/N) did not hear the door bell chime as she muttered angrily under her breath. But she did hear footsteps approaching her. Her thoughts immediately went to Andrew, and, without releasing that he had already left the shop she spun around and spewed curses at the poor unsuspecting soul.

"Andrew, I swear if you as much as open your mouth I'll cut your dick and shove it in your fucking mouth."

"OMG, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- wait what?"

Steve's jaw slackened as he registered the words the employee had uttered. He tried to subtly observe her. She looked beautiful. Of course, as he later reflected upon his thoughts, his opinion would be considered biased.

The duo hurriedly checked their left arms only to see the last trace of their soulmate marks vanish.

It's him. It's really him. (Y/N) gaped at the burly man in front of her. He looked familiar but she couldn't place her finger on it. The man lowered his hoodie and she couldn't help but gasp.

"You're fucking Captain America!" (Y/N) yelped.

"No, you mig- NO, no! I'm sorry, ma'am! I shouldn't have barged in like that." Steve mentally slapped himself for trying to crack such a vulgar joke. He made a mental note to not drink so much of the Mead and to stop spending time with Sam and Tony when they were drunk.

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows indicating that she had caught onto the unintentional innuendo. She tried not to laugh when Steve became all flustered and stumbled apology after apology.

When Steve heard her giggle, he stopped blabbering and glanced at her.

"Okay, how about we forget what happened and start afresh? Hi, I'm Steve." He smiled at her hopefully and extended his hand.

A smirk formed on her lips as she shook his hand, "Oh no, we most certainly won't forget it. I'm (Y/N)."

•••×ו••

It had been a month after they had found each other and Steve and (Y/N)'s relationship was evergreen and blossoming. Steve had taken (Y/N) to meet the Avengers. Much to Steve's dismay, they had bonded over making fun of him. The unfinished innuendo was now a running joke amongst the heroes. And although Steve would never admit it, he secretly cherished the fact that his family and his girlfriend - gosh, he still couldn't stop the smile from adorning his face at that thought- got along so well.

(Y/N) had kindly returned the favour by introducing Steve to Claire who, after the initial shock (and fainting which she would deny until her dying day), was over the moon.

Andrew was surprisingly never mentioned again and the pair was happy to keep it that way for sometime.

But as the days passed, Steve's thoughts dwelled on the impossibility of the situation. He was growing more anxious to know the answer to his query.

"You're killing me there, Cap. What's bothering your old brain?"

Steve broke from his reverie to see Tony standing in front of him. There was no one else in the common room that day, to Steve's astonishment. He sighed and signaled Tony to sit down with him.

"I still don't get it, pal. Two soulmates for one person? Is that even possible? The more I think about it, the more it feels as if this will be snatched away from me."

Tony regarded Steve's words and said, "You remember what you had told me after Ultron? Outside the facility?"

"That I wasn't sure about a family?" Steve scrunched his eyebrows. "Yeah, I do. But what does that have to do with this?" He asked, puzzled.

"Remember you had told me that someone else had come out of the ice? See, soulmates compliment their partner's souls. Not the physical body. You may look like the same person, even behave the same but your soul has changed, hasn't it? You see things very differently than the way you did before. Granted, this happens to others too but the magnitude isn't as great as yours. Your outlook on the world and yourself has changed drastically. Okay," Tony waved his hands around, " this isn't making much sense, but maybe that's how the world works. You've been out of the ice for quite some time now and (Y/N) has always lived here. There was a heavy chance that you could've met before. But your mark appeared only after you accepted that the person you are now and the person you were before are not at all the same. Then, Peggy complimented your soul. Now, it's (Y/N)."

"I think I do get it, Tony." Steve smiled at him. "Maybe that is how the world works."

[chessala]

Ok, I’m still in love with @victorsporosya​‘s Little Mermaid AU casting Yuuri as the prince and Viktor as the mermaid. I’m probably getting way too invested in this so I apologize because I have the feeling there will be more ficlets ahead! (In my defense, Ariel was and still is my favourite disney princess and this AU just goes along so well with me.

Enjoy!

History: Part 1 | Parts 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Washed ashore after a storm, you’re so luck that Yuuri found you! It must have been horrible to go through that.”

“It really was! I was so scared!” Viktor said cheerfully right before blowing some of the strange foam from his hands. Upon arrival at the castle, Viktor, now somewhat steady on his feet, had been pulled away by two of the servants right away. He had been dumped into a barrel filled with water and the best smelling sea foam Viktor had ever seen before. He didn’t know why, but the female servant had suddenly lost a lot of blood from her nose when she had removed the jacket Yuuri had so kindly provided him with. He hoped he would get it back, it smelled like him.

“It’s Prince Yuuri, Yuuko. Don’t let the Madam hear you drop the title again.” Minami said, glancing around nervously. While Prince Yuuri insisted all the servants just called him by his name, everyone caught doing so by Madam Minako was due a an hour long lecture. If they were lucky. Servants disappearing for a whole day to be educated hasn’t been unheard of.

“I’ve known Yuuri since he was two years old, one would think she would stop fussing about it.” Yuuko said with an exasperated sigh.

“What kind of person is Yu- Prince Yuuri?” Viktor asked, ears perking up at the topic of the man of his dreams.

“He is wonderful!” Minami started gushing instantly. “He is humble and kind to everyone. He never orders the servants around and helps out in the kitchens whenever he can. Everyone loves him!”

Viktor could definitely understand that. He had only gotten a glimpse at the prince while sitting on the outside of the ship. His smile had been radiant and genuine, capable of lighting up the whole ship despite it being night. He had the cutest furry animal with him, a dog called Vicchan as Viktor knew now. Viktor had a pet seal called Makkachin at home as well that he hoped to introduce to Yuuri eventually.

“But he has also been a bit sad lately.” Yuuko continued for Minami. “A few weeks ago he almost drowned in a storm just like you but it seems he was saved by a mysterious man with long silver hair and blue eyes and he has been looking for him since then. He even had painters recreate his face by his description and the portraits are all-over his ro-” Yuuko stopped in the middle of her sentence and looked at Viktor with a frown. “If it weren’t for your short hair, I could swear you look just like him….”

Viktor beamed at her, grasping her hands in his.

“It was me! I watched Yuuri on the ship and he was so wonderful! But then the storm came and I just couldn’t let him die even though Yakov hates humans. But then I couldn’t forget about him and asked the sea witch to turn me into human!” Viktor rambled down, almost forgetting to breathe in the process. Yuuri remembered him! Yuuri had been looking for him! Yuuri hadn’t been able to forget about Viktor, just like Viktor hadn’t been able to forget about him.

“Merman?” Yuuko asked with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure you didn’t swallow too much water? Merfolk are old fishwife tales!”

She took a jug full of hot water from a table and helped rinse Viktor’s hair and eyes. Viktor sighed, suddenly feeling very alone. Of course they wouldn’t believe him,l Yakov had done all he could to ensure that humans and merfolk don’t interact. It didn’t really matter, all he wanted was to be with Yuuri anyway.

“Don’t tell that story to Prince Yuuri, it will upset him!” Minami said to Viktor with a scolding voice and Viktor nodded. Minami helped him out of the bathtub, causing the female he now knew was called Yuuko to bleed from her nose again. Humans truly were strange creatures after all.

“Let’s get you dressed!” Yuuko said after putting some paper into her nose. “You might not be Yuuri’s mysterious saviour but that doesn’t mean he can’t fall in love with you rather than chasing a dream.

---------

“And did you see that ASS!” Phichit said excitedly, making Yuuri roll his eyes. It wasn’t exactly possible to not stare at the ass of the man they had found at the beach. Phichit looked at him from the corner of his eyes, causing Yuuri to blush.

“I-I would never!” Yuuri stuttered, trying to swallow the tightness in his throat away. Why was it suddenly so hot in here anyway?

“You know….” Phichit continued, sounding more serious suddenly. “Why don’t you forget about that mysterious stranger and instead focus on what’s right in front of you?”

“I don’t even know his name, Phichit.” Yuuri started to protest just to be interrupted by Phichit.

“Didn’t stop you from looking through every village within a two-days ride to look for a, and I quote you here, beautiful stranger that swims around in the ocean and saves princes from drowning.”

Yuuri groaned. He had indeed said that, exact words and all. After waking up on the beach, the stranger with the long silver hair and blue eyes was everything Yuuri could think about, dream about, fantasize about. He blushed a little when some of those fantasies came back to him now, some of them including a very particular reunion on the beach.

“I just want to thank him for saving me!” Yuuri said weakly, knowing full well that his friend would see through him right away.

“Well, he obviously doesn’t want your thanks, so just let it rest Yuuri.” Phichit said a bit softer. He stepped behind Yuuri and helped him to straighten his loose shirt so it fell just the right way to expose a bit of chest and accent his hips. “As for his name, I’m sure he will tell you if you manage to actually use your mouth to talk instead of just drooling.”

“I didn’t...I mean….Phichit!”

Phichit laughed happily, obviously satisfied with flustering Yuuri to oblivion. Yuuri couldn’t deny that he had stared at the stranger just a little, even after giving him his jacket. And his face looked so much like the one Yuuri remembered from waking up after the storm, except that his hair was short. But his eyes had the same beautiful shade of blue that made Yuuri want to get lost in them.

And he seemed nice, if not a bit over-dramatic. After Phichit and Yuuri had steadied him on his feet, he had gushed on about how glad he was to have met them and that he wouldn’t have known what to do if they hadn’t come by. Yuuri could also swear he saw a crab glare at him right before it disappeared into the sea. Crabs didn’t glare, Yuuri was at least sure of that.

“Yuuri!” Minako’s familiar voice filled the room even before she the open the doors to Yuuri’s bedroom. “What do i have to hear about you bringing home a stray man from the beach?”

“M-Minako!” Yuuri said with a slightly panicked voice, taking a step back automatically. Minako was the head servant and like a second mother for him. Whenever his parents had been too busy, she had taken care of Yuuri and made sure to educate him. He loved her but she always had a talent to get involved in everything that was going on.

“He was washed ashore.” Phichit explained. “So we brought him here.”

Minako squinted first at Phichit and then at Yuuri. “He is real this time, right?”

Yuuri sighed and let himself fall on one of the cushioned chairs. Of course she would tease him about this as well. No one believed Yuuri that he had really seen someone on the beach. Phichit said he had been alone when he found Yuuri groaning on the sand. He knew the man had been there, though, how could he have imagined the soft feeling of his hair and those beautiful eyes.

“Be it as it may.” Minako continued when Yuuri didn’t reply to her teasing. “I want to see this man. We can’t allow random strangers to roam the palace and endanger the royal family. He will join us for dinner.”

“What!” Yuuri choked out, almost managing to fall off his chair. He couldn’t possible have dinner with the man, he didn’t have his feelings under enough control for that. “Minako, isn’t that too dangerous?”

“What exactly could he do? Impale the king with chopsticks?” Minako asked, raising her eyebrows and resting her hands on her hips.

“He might!” Yuuri countered, doing his best to keep his voice strong and his heart steady. He couldn’t possibly so fickle to forget the stranger in favour of a set of nice abs and a perky ass. And a pair of beautiful eyes and a smile to die for. And a voice that made his skin feel too tight in entirely the wrong way.

“Fine…” he relented with a sigh, heart already beating faster. Seemed like he was that fickle after all.

“Good I’ll let your mother know. She took over the kitchen to make Katsudon.” Minako said with nod.

“Wasn’t today supposed to be stuffed crab?” Phichit asked. It wasn’t often that the royal menu changed so suddenly after all. Minako shrugged and turned towards the door.

“Seems there was a series of accidents, something about aggressive crabs.”

[ariel-the-rebellious]

Eternal Despair of the Spotless Mind

In which Ariel and Jim journey into the Underworld, find themselves in Asphodel Meadows, and face their first challenge. 

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack.

Prelude: Ghosts and Treasure

@thathawkinsboy

Jim led them deeper and deeper into the forest, following paths Pleiades had walked a hundred times, until they could see the burning river ahead. The blue flames cast them both in an eerie light, but Jim wasn’t focused too much on the river. He was focusing on the massive pit that sat where the burning river ended, a set of stairs clinging to the side as they sunk into the darkness.

“I don’t see any guards,” he whispered to Ariel, crouched behind a tree as he surveyed the banks of the river and the field around the Gates. He turned back to the young woman, watching her reaction carefully. This was Ariel’s show, after all; Jim was just the navigator. It was up to her whether or not they took that step out into the open and down into the Underworld. He wouldn’t stop her if she did, and wouldn’t judge her if she decided she wanted to go back home. “We should be able to make it to the Gates without any problem,” Jim told her.

Ariel clutched her Trident tight in both hands. The journey here had been easy, but something deep down in the pit of her stomach told Ariel that it wasn’t going to be like that for much longer. Staring down at the pit that had somehow formed in the earth since the last time the redhead had traveled into the woods, that feeling that there was worse to come only grew.

She took a deep breath as Jim looked back at her though, and hardened her face, determined. She was not scared. She would not allow herself to be scared. There were people who needed help, and Ariel couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. She would go into the Underworld and Jim would have her back, and whatever they faced, it would only make them stronger.

Right?

“What are we waiting for?” she asked, standing up and moving forward with determination. Her legs had begun to shake. Staying still for another moment might have made it noticeable, and then there would be no denying that Ariel was very, very nervous.

But as it was, she now stood on top of the staircase with fire in her eyes and a giant Trident in her hands. Looking into the pit made her feel sick, and she watched as a figure suddenly appeared from the darkness.

She only had time to gasp, her voice not reaching her throat for a scream, before she realized she could see through the man drifting up the stairs. A ghost. It was a ghost, a spirit, just like the many others they had seen the closer they’d gotten to the river. Laughing awkwardly at herself, Ariel cleared her throat as the spirit passed, giving it a wave before she reached back for one of Jim’s hands to pull him along.

“Come on.” She moved down the stairs with gusto, pulling Jim along and telling herself her hand only clutched his so tightly so that they wouldn’t lose one another. Soon, the darkness began to give way to tree-tops, and eventually, it seemed that the staircase had led into… another forest?

That couldn’t be right.

And yet, here they were, surrounded by trees again, different paths clearly paved in between laid out in front of them. Ariel looked between them all before she turned back to Jim, her face a question mark. “Well? Um… You’re the human GPS. Where do we go from here?”

Even if Jim hadn’t noticed the way her legs were shaking, it was impossible to miss her tight grip on his hand and the way she had reacted to the spirit. Her gasp had his hand on the hilt of the sword Annette had given him before he could properly process what had happened, and before he could ask Ariel definitively if she was still sure of their plan, she was off. And Jim could do nothing but follow her down, fingers moving between hers and thumb rubbing against her thin wrist comfortingly.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, the earthen walls lost in the darkness and the spiral straightening out until they seemed to just be heading down into nowhere. It was hard to even make out Ariel, and she was barely three steps in front of him. He couldn’t tell where they were going, and not for the first time since Flint had confronted them in that alley, Jim tried to feel out his magic. Unlike Swynlake or Enchantra, he didn’t even have his false memories to guide him down here, and it was with a growing sense of dread that he realized he couldn’t tell if his magic was working or not. There wasn’t like a glowing arrow that he could follow, or a distinct tug leading him on. No visions of the right way to go. He thought he had known what he was doing, thought that he had identified what that tug of magic felt like once Flint had told him the truth. But he didn’t know for sure, and that fact alone was terrifying.

Jim almost tugged Ariel to a stop, almost confessed that he wasn’t sure how this whole Pathfinding thing worked, almost begged her to turn back around and wait until they didn’t have to trust their lives to a magic he didn’t know how to use. But then the void above them started to lighten like the sun was starting to rise. Except there was no sun. Jim couldn’t even make out a horizon; just an endless forest that came slowly into focus the further down they went. Jim sped up a bit, now at Ariel’s side as they went down the last sets of stairs and reached the bottom. The different paths varied in style, each branching off and heading off so deep into the forest that Jim couldn’t see where they ended. One path looked almost like a shallow river, another like one of the dried salt fields from back home. There was a glass path, one made out of wildflowers, a broken brick path, and more.

Jim didn’t feel a tug towards any of them.

He looked over at Ariel’s question, and the confusion in her expression matched the confusion and doubt sitting like a rock in his stomach. Jim, however, had always found it easier to push his own fears from his mind when there was someone depending on him. It had been true with his family back home, it was true in this alternate reality with Annette and her family, and it was true with Ariel. He nodded at the younger woman, giving her a reassuring smile and a quick squeeze of their joined hands before he looked back at the paths. He took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slow through his lips before he looked at the paths with a determined set to his jaw.

Jim didn’t have an answer. In fact, Jim said absolutely nothing, just staring at her like he wasn’t quite so sure himself. Sure, he nodded, and squeezed her hand, and looked at the paths with a sense of concentration.

But that was it.

Ariel waited, but only for the briefest of moments, before she blew out air through her lips and tugged Jim forward. “Okay, we’ll just take one. See where it goes. If it feels wrong, we’ll… go back,” she said, trying to come up with the answers herself. She chose the path of wildflowers because it felt serene. It felt calm. She thought that maybe it would be the peaceful journey.

The scent of flowers was overwhelming. It was nice, but Ariel also kind of wanted to cover her nose and mouth. Eventually, though, the woods opened up into someplace… beautiful.

The redhead looked around, taking in the meadows that crawled with flowers. Small houses dotted the landscape, every so often bordered by a tree or two that bore fruit, and a river flowed throughout the small village, off into the distance. More ghosts dwelt here, spirits flitting around from one place to the other, some even having their own conversations.

Ariel smiled, and felt herself overcome with a wave of peace. She kept walking with Jim’s hand in her own until, eventually, she dropped his grasp and held her Trident tight in both hands, sticking it up to grab some apples off a tree. As she pierced a large red fruit, she brought the weapon down and took it off, the juices dripping between her fingers.

She looked down at it, happy… but confused. Her head was growing cloudy and her brows pulled together as she looked back up at Jim.

“This… is good, right?” Ariel held the fruit out to him, hesitating with the movement at first, and tilted her head to the side. “Is this… is this what you wanted? Food?” But she had food in her bag, didn’t she? Didn’t he have food in his own? Why had she gotten down the apple, then?

She turned her head, red curls whipping as she looked around. Nothing… nothing looked familiar. Where were they? When had they gotten here?

Panic set in her chest. “Jim, where are we?” she asked, dropping the apple, hand drifting up to her mouth as she spun around once again. She had this overwhelming feeling of uncertainty, like she shouldn’t be where she was. “What are we doing here? How did we… How did we get here?”

Jim had still been staring down the different paths, trying to feel… well, anything, when Ariel had suddenly chosen for them. He stumbled after her, a little stunned from being pulled so suddenly from his almost trance. “Ariel, wait-” he urged, tugging on her hand, but she just kept going. They walked through the woods, Jim growing more and more uneasy as the smell of the crushed wildflowers under their sandals overwhelmed his senses.

And then they walked into the meadow, and Jim’s fear disappeared, washed away by a wave of contentment and ease. He caught up with Ariel, strolling easily at her side like they had done so many times back in his memories. Their fingers were tangled together, palms pressed together, and Jim’s smile grew at the thought that in a few weeks time, there’d be a ring on Ariel’s finger; cool and smooth as it would press against his fingers.

He was waving at some of the spirits they were passing when Ariel let go of his hand, and panic crashed back into him like a truck. It actually stole his breath a bit, the sudden urge to find Ariel’s hand again and run (back the way they had come, down the path made of white sand too perfect for the desert yet too cool for the beach, between the shallow river and the glass path). He spun around, his friend’s name choking him as he tried to yell out for her. He couldn’t scream, not here, but he saw Ariel a moment later, smiling happily as she pulled down the red fruit skewered on her trident and wow, wasn’t that some unintentionally and uncomfortably gory imagery? Jim was at her side in a moment, hand going to her elbow as she turned her brilliant smile on him.

As Ariel’s expression slowly fell and her panic crept back, Jim unconsciously stepped closer; his broad hand slowly curling around her arm to anchor her down. The sand path was easily forgotten - for he had never really known it, just knew the feeling of wanting to run towards it - as he gently pulled her hand away from her mouth. Her fingers were sticky from the apple’s juice, trailing down to the curve of her elbow. “We-” he started to say, before his eyebrows furrowed. How had they gotten here? He couldn’t remember; the memory held just out of reach.

He glanced up at Ariel, and suddenly he was back in that frozen arcade, comforting the panicking redhead. Jim couldn’t remember much - like where the hell they were or why, but he could remember that. They really needed to stop ending up in these kind of situations.

“We can ask someone, yeah?” he said gently, with a small nod. “We’re not alone here, we’re going to be fine. Just… stay with me, okay Ariel? We’ll figure this out. It’s going to be okay.”

Once again, Jim seemed just as confused as she was.

Wait. Once again? When had they both been confused? She could remember them both being perplexed hearing they were meant to be engaged. Wait. That wasn’t right either. She could remember them both being confused on what to do while shut in an arcade, a frozen winter storming in July right outside. Wait. No, that wasn’t it either.

What was going on?

“Okay,” she replied softly. She looked at the Trident in her hand with unease. Why did she have this? Why did she have a canteen around her? Why did she have a little knapsack attached to her waist?

None of it made any sense. She had so many questions.

She walked forward with Pleiades - no, with Jim - and they approached a translucent girl where she sat eating an apple of her own. “Hi… I-I’m sorry. I’m Ariel. This is… Jim?” The redhead looked over at him, the name not feeling right no matter how many times she corrected herself. “We’re... lost. Do you- I mean, can you tell us where we are?”

Jim, once again, followed Ariel; ignoring the odd half-feeling of not going the right way even though he was the one to suggest asking for help. The girl they approached was about their age (or somewhere in between) and blinked up at them innocently.

“You’re in the Meadow,” she answered easily, smiling at the two in that soft, kinda confused way one did when approached by total strangers. Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Um, yes,” he said. “But which meadow?”

“The Meadow.”

Jim gave her a deadpanned look, fighting to keep his patience as well as keeping his memories together. It was getting harder and harder, and Jim had to keep glancing at Ariel from the corner of his eyes to remind himself that he wasn’t here alone. “Okay, how about this: Did you see how we got here?” ‘If you say we walked here, I’m shoving the rest of that apple up your nose.’

Thankfully, the girl nodded, taking another bite as she pointed to the woods that bordered the meadow they were in. “You came from there.”

Ariel looked between the girl and the woods a few times before her gaze landed back on Jim. “Should we go back towards the woods?” she asked, unsure of what to do next. Everything felt off, and it sat wrong in her stomach. This girl wasn’t helping and they didn’t know where they were or how they got there and, sometimes, Ariel had trouble remembering what even was real and what wasn’t.

“I think we should maybe stay here. Just- Right here. Right? Don’t you think we should stay and wait and figure this out? I’m sure if we think hard enough it’ll all begin to make sense again. We’ll remember why we came here and what we were doing and then everything will be okay.” As she rambled, her grip tightened both on Jim’s hand as well as the Trident, as though they were going to keep her anchored down somehow.

It was a little bit hard to breathe, but she tried to ignore that.

“Everything is fine. Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to get out of here and we’re going to get married…” That’s right. They were getting married. Had Attina and Alana finished working on her ceremonial robes? Were they the ones working on it? 

Why were they getting married again? They just met.

Right. That was in the other life. There was another life. This wasn’t the right one. 

Was it?

“That’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asked him, but then quickly shook her head. “No. That’s- It’s right. I know what’s right and what’s wrong. That’s right. This is right. We’re here for some reason so we shouldn’t leave. We’ll stay here until something jogs our memories.”

Watching Ariel talk herself out was almost therapeutic, really. At least in the sense that it was reassuring to know that at least she shared his worries. On the other hand it made his stomach twist in knots in shared anxiety. Her grip on his hand was starting to make his bones ache but he didn’t even consider letting go, because she was right, they were getting married soon. Just a few more weeks and she’d be wearing that ring that would press cool and sturdy against his skin. They’d say their vows and kiss and dance with their families and Ariel would look more beautiful than he could bear (she was getting prettier by the day, or he was starting to see it more clearly) and they’d move back to his quarters and everything would be fine.

They’d wait in the meadow and they’d be fine. She was right. This was right.

Except when she said it, Jim knew it wasn’t. He just couldn’t remember what was. “I think,” Jim started slowly, glancing at the young woman before looking at the woods. The urge to just walk in was getting stronger, like it was a path he had walked a dozen times before. Like he knew those woods. Which was particularly wild because he had never seen them before.

Meadow or woods. Stay or go.

The longer they stood in the meadow, the scent of blossoming flowers and woodsmoke from the houses flooding their lungs, the harder it was to remember. The less Jim knew.

Jim took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Set his jaw and turned to Ariel and said with a surety that was getting stronger by the moment, “I think we need to go. Back to the woods.”

Back to the woods?

Had he really just said that? No, Ariel thought, she must have just heard him wrong… But then, why did he seem so certain as he looked between the trees and the meadow? Ariel looked between them herself, not quite knowing which of them was right.

She wanted to stay. He wanted to go.

This did not bode well for their marriage.

“I don’t know…” Ariel bit down on her lip, gnawing at the skin there until it became chapped and chipped off into her mouth. A disgusting habit, really, but she couldn’t help it. The nerves, the uncertainty, the deep-setting confusion and the feeling that nothing was right… It all weighed on her heavy until the atmosphere combined with the mixture of emotions inside of her became too much. It became harder to breathe still. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything anymore and nothing sounds right but nothing sounds wrong and I don’t want to get in trouble. I don’t want to get caught doing something I shouldn’t. I’ll be in so much trouble with the masters and with Daddy and we might not see each other again. Pleiades, what if we did something wrong? What if we’re somewhere we shouldn’t be?”

It was the first thing she’d said that felt right in the past few minutes, and that worried her more.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Jim knew what to do. At least when it came to Ariel.

His thumb found the soft skin under her lip and gently pulled her bottom lip from between her teeth; like he had done once before (like he’d done a hundred times). Jim pushed her bangs back from where they;d fallen in her eyes and his hand stayed near her temple. She’d always been more physical than him; standing close when their engagement was announced, leaning out of the window where he visited until he could feel her breath on his face, holding his hand through it all. It was a new language he had learned to speak for her since they had been engaged, since the shock and the anger wore off and he’d stopped seeing his unwanted bride and started seeing Ariel again, the girl he had known for most of his life.

(Memories. Planted falsely in his head. But here’s the thing. Plants have roots, and these had burrowed down deep. Jim would weed them out later, when they didn’t make him feel calm and strong and content. When Ariel didn’t need him to be sturdy. Later.)

“I said I’d protect you and I meant it,” he said softly, lowly. Like the meadow and the girl and the apples weren’t there and it was just the two of them alone. “We can’t fix anything standing here. We’re ready for whatever trouble we get into,” he grinned, “and between the two of us, we can make more trouble than our masters or families ever could. I know going into the woods is right, Ariel, I do. And we’ll keep moving and I’ll be right here with you, no matter what.”

Carefully, slowly, Jim leaned down (fuck, she was so small) until his forehead rested against hers, the tips of their noses a hair width apart. He didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t look away. He just cupped the side of her neck gently with the hand that wasn’t fused with hers and met her eyes steadily. “if you can’t trust anything else, trust me,” he implored quietly.

Ariel didn’t know what a panic attack was. She’d seen Ana have one - she suddenly recalled that night at prom, and the conversation with the older girl that had followed - but she’d never known how it felt. She’d thought it was breathing into a paper bag or cleaning a space until blisters formed on your fingers like what happened with her eldest sister, Attina.

Ariel had never known what a panic attack was until she found herself right on the edge of one, breath not coming quick enough and a feeling of weight crushing her from all sides. She wanted to lay down, to rock back and forth, anything.

But instead, Jim pulled her bottom lip from her teeth again (he was always doing that even though she felt like maybe he’d only ever done it once or twice before.) He made her stop doing the thing she did when she was worried, and he caressed her face, and looked into her eyes - blue meeting blue, ocean waves colliding - and suddenly the air started to come a bit easier.

He sounded so sure. So steadfast. Ariel never liked to admit that she was ever scared of anything, but she had been so scared of not knowing anything until Jim - Pleiades - looked at her the way he was right now. And then he leaned down, and his forehead was pressed against hers, and even though he didn’t close his eyes Ariel did. Ariel closed her eyes and she breathed in his scent - freshly baked dough and burnt wood- allowing it to take over the overwhelming aroma of flowers and apples. She breathed it in over and over again, with deep breaths, until her head felt clear and and she knew one thing and one thing only: 

She trusted Pleiades - she trusted Jim - with her life.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, opening her eyes and pulling away to look back up at him, nodding. “Okay. Okay, I trust you. I do. We’ll go back through the woods.”

She squeezed his hand, relaxing her hold on it, and gently stroked his fingers with her thumb. Slowly, the confusion subsided. Certainty gave way to the block that had come over her memories, cloudiness dissipating. All at once, she knew what was what.

“You’re the GPS. I remember. You know the way. We’re- We’re here to stop all this, and that’s what we’re going to do. Together.”

Jim nodded, his smile growing until it was crooked and warm and it creased his cheeks. Hearing Ariel say she trusted him, seeing the panic leave her features, feeling the tension leave her shoulders, it made the world stop spinning. Everything made sense again, and the path was certain now. It was like he had walked it a million times; it was familiar and it was steady and it was electric and it zipped up his spine and sat in the soles of his feet and it was…

It was magic.

He was Magick.

Jim nodded, confident and tall and feeling a little giddy. “Right, together,” he said, still smiling. “Come on,” he urged, motioning with his head towards the woods as he turned and started to walk. He kept his stride short so Ariel wasn’t trailing after him, but walking next to him. “We’ll get back to the paths and we’ll go from there. I know what to look for now, we can figure it out.” His arm knocked gently against her shoulder. “We’ll be fine,” he reassured her again.

[maiden-of-wolves]

Venna Drags Ariel to Her Feelings

Just a scene that I had in my head of Venna Lavellan and Ariel Grace talking, friend to friend.

“So…” the Inquisitor began, letting the syllable drag on far too long for emphasis. “You seem to be pretty close to Zev—”

Click on the read more if you want to see more. (Trying to spare those on mobile)

Ariel cut her commentary off at the knees. “So are you,” she noted sharply. “So is Varric, not to mention that he and Dorian flirt like mad, too. I’m not special.”

Venna quirked a brow as she looked at her friend. That was a spectacularly defensive answer, which only made her even more curious. “You don’t go out of your way to spend time with people, Ariel. That much, if nothing else, I know about you.”

Ariel gave her friend a rueful glare but didn’t actually deny it. She turned her gaze away to stare out at the mountains that surrounded Skyhold.

“Do you like him?”

“Of course. He’s interesting, and underneath all that flippant flighty flirting he has the capacity for a great deal of kindness. I hate that he has the same penchant as you and Dorian do, though.”

“What? A great sense of fashion?”

Ariel fixed her friend with another withering glare and then dramatically rolled her eyes. “No. Your habit of attempting to make me blush my face into a new skin color.”

“Ah, yes!” The elven inquisitor crowed, clapping her hands together before rubbing them for a moment as she grinned. “That is really fun. You could make it less fun if you just weren’t so easily embarrassed, you know~”

The advisor continued her glare, her lips now pursing slightly from irritation as her brows knitted slightly. Her lips shifted back as she spoke. “You talk like I can actually change what embarasses me by sheer force of will.”

“Well we’re certainly trying to toughen you up with some… what did you call it? ‘Exposure’ something?”

“Exposure therapy,” Ariel corrected Venna. She sighed. “Guess that’s just not effective on me, then. Seems to be making the problem worse. Perhaps you should stop trying it, since the treatment isn’t working.”

“Ah, but none of us are doctors — or, what did you call those special doctors?”

“Therapists, psychiatrists, psychologists…”

“Right. Those things.”

After a moment’s silence, Ariel had relaxed and looked back out at the scenery. Venna, however, wasn’t done.

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you like him?”

“I did answer your question.”

“With your evaluation. Not your feelings.”

Ariel’s expression shifted to a mix of disgust and irritation. She really had spent too much time telling Venna things. She knew her too well now.

“So…?”

“Why does it matter? We’ve been over how I can’t get that invested.”

“Doesn’t stop you from having feelings.”

Ariel went quiet at that, unsure how best to form her feelings into understandable speech. “I… Miris is the only one he will ever love.”

“I didn’t ask about his feelings. You don’t know those.”

Ariel heaved a sigh that bordered on dramatic. “I do my best not to hope for, much less really think on, that kind of thing. Especially with him.”

“Is that it? You find yourself daydreaming about it and shut it out?”

Ariel glanced over at Venna and was met with a knowing stare. She shook her head. “Imagine this - that when I came out of the cells at Haven, I knew intimate details about you without ever having met you: your clan name, your last relationship, your favorite food, your favorite saying, your quirks… wouldn’t that be exceedingly creepy?”

Venna’s brows raised so high that her vallaslin was intensely compressed. “You know all that about Zevran?”

“Not all. It was a thought experiment for you and you didn’t answer.”

“Yes, that would be… disturbing. I’d wonder if you were a blood mage.”

Ariel chuckled, though the sound was breathless and mirthless. She ran a hand through her shaggy hair. “That’s why I’ve tried to simply be there with him. Let him talk — the fact that I find his voice sultry, smooth like velvet and soothing not being the main reason I listen as intently as I do — let him tell me the things he wants me to know. I encourage him to talk about his trauma because no one else in his life allows for such things and he lets it build up. I help him how I can because I care, because I know… how much he’s already suffered. I am content just being able to talk with him, to gain his trust as naturally as I can.”

“You rank up there with Cole in compassion, Ariel, but that sounds extraordinary even for your empathy…”

She knew the question hidden in Venna’s statement. “Miris will forever have his heart,” Ariel reminded her friend. “One of the things I’m sure he told her was a simple phrase that I will never get out of my head. Three words, but not the ones you think of. He said,” she paused to sit up a little straighter as she prepped to mimic his Antivan accent, “I am yours.” Ariel smiled to herself, cheeks turning rosey even just from the memory.

“Isn’t that a bit… kinky?” Venna asked, brow quirked as she stared at her friend. “I knew you were curious, but are you—”

“No, no! You don’t get it!” Ariel gasped. “He was owned. The son of a brothel worker—”

“A whore.”

Ariel caught herself actually growling at Venna. “Can I finish?”

Venna sat back a little bit, eyes widening at Ariel’s snapping. 

Ariel took her silence as an invitation and acquiescence. “He went from the brothel to be sold as an asset to the Crows. They didn’t care if he lived or died, treated him horrifically and had him tamp down any emotion that could possibly impart empathy. And then… after a staggering loss of a fellow Crow…. He was spared by Miris when he wanted to die. He was given a fresh chance, but he’d only ever known being ‘owned’. When he said it Miris… it was his choice. He trusted that she would never hurt him. It was a beautiful moment. And… it was…” Ariel hesitated, expression falling from the anger she had worked herself up into a few moments before. “It was terribly relatable.”

“You were owned?”

Ariel shook her head. “No, not like he was. I was pushed, told what to be, how to dress, how to talk… I rebelled but fell into nothing but shit when I tried to trust people romantically. I saw that moment and I felt hope. Hope that I could find that one day. That even if someone as stuffed into a mold that Zev was… could break it and live happily. That’s why I wanted to help him so badly. He’s suffered enough.”

Venna seemed at loss for words for a few moments. Still, she regained herself eventually. “It still sounds like you’re side-stepping. Talk about you.”

Ariel looked exasperated at the insistence, but she had nowhere else to go with it other than the space in her heart that she locked everything down. “Even though I love how he speaks, the way he laughs — it makes me feel…” she sighed as she searched for the words, “alive. Intensely proud when I’m the one that pulls that beautiful sound from his lips.” She paused, staring straight up into the clouds as things she held down deep in her consciousness just simply flowed out. “The way he grins at you when he’s thought of something clever or mischievous. The glimmer that follows in his eyes. The sheer confidence he manages to radiate nearly every single moment of his life is something I could only enviously wish I could know in my life. Even in the few times I have been at his side in battle, the way he effortlessly glides through enemies… puts me at ease. And you know how I am around death, how guilty I feel, how… it haunts my dreams. But when I’m with him, that’s all I remember. I don’t think about the lives, I think about his prowess… that he is on my side in all this and I have nothing to fear.”

“And his ‘prowess’ doesn’t involve his well-formed body?” Venna questioned, smirking.

Ariel barked out a laugh. She finally pulled her gaze back down to roll her eyes at her friend. “I’m not blind,” she answered ruefully, doing her best to completely ignore her rising blush. “But that’s — as Solas would put it — is only an enjoyable side-benefit.”

“Man, you really love him…”

She didn’t add to that, suddenly feeling very depressed about it all. “I suppose I do. But… it’s never to be. I can’t let it, even if he would ever remove the tightly-wound barbed wire around his heart that is his memories of Miris.”

“Why? You seem to be helping him work that out—”

“We’ve already discussed this—”

“And I’ve already told you that you’re not disposable,” Venna cut her off in a snap. “You’ve already admitted that you don’t think you will be able to go back without some serious blood magic and you refuse to do that. So what’s stopping you?”

“His memories? My propensity to love too deeply, so much so that it’s suffocating? His already shattered and papered-over heart? My own fragile sense of self, already cracked and glued from the last time I really let myself love? The list seems endless and terribly painful.”

“And you don’t see how that’s all just… leading you towards each other? That you’re helping him heal and strengthening yourself in the process?”

“Real life isn’t a storybook,” Ariel muttered. “Putting two broken people together doesn’t magically make them whole.”

“Nothing magical about you just sitting with him and encouraging him through his painful memories. Being a safe ear and space for him.”

“Perhaps not, but the point still stands. Putting broken people together isn’t a great idea. And I have no intention of being the one to break him again, even if it is not due to my own wishes.”

“Sounds more like you’re the one who’s afraid to be broken again.”

Ariel didn’t answer, again staring off at the surrounding Frostbacks. She couldn’t help but feel Venna was right… but that would mean she had no reason to not be with Zevran. That was a terribly dangerous idea.

[thewritersintent-blog]

13 Ghosts 2: The Torso

Trigger Warnings: depiction of mental illness (schizophrenia), racism, swearing, graphic depiction of death & dead body/graphic depiction of violence, attempted suicide (not carried out), & slurs.

Word Count: 8,676

Quick Note: I am not a black man no am I schizophrenic. This story has not been read by a sensitivity reader, and therefor may contain inaccuracies. If I offended - if anything is off, please let me know. I want to learn. I am trying to figure out how to use - how to find sensitivity readers. 

There are a few rules city pedestrians can agree upon. Do not look like a tourist; avoid taking out maps, looking lost, and taking pictures of famous locations. Be vigilant: keep your bag in front of you or your hand on your bag, watch where you’re going and who you are with. Don’t make eye contact with the homeless.

“How you doin’, man? Need help or somethin’?”

The last one was a bit harder to follow when one ran into the large, gap-tooth grinned Bernard Torrance - Torry to his friends - Wright.

A young man looked up from where he had been fidgeting with the parking meter. He had to crane his neck up to look Torry in the eye. He blinked, more than a little thrown off by the man’s cheerful demeanor. “N-no,” he mumbled, looking back down again. He hit the parking meter with a closed fist, hoping it would finally just take his quarter and let him go.

“Hate to bother you, man, but, uh, that’s a bitch right there.” Torry took a step forward and raised his fist. The smaller man violently flinched. He didn’t look at him as he brought his fist down with a loud thunk! onto the side of the old green parking meter. It made a strange noise like it was starting up, and then spit out his ticket. Torry ripped the ticket off and handed it to the man, who gazed at it in shock and awe, like he was handed Willy Wonka’s golden ticket.

“Th-thank you,” he stuttered.

Torry shrugged. “No problem. Dis meter not always workin’, but nobody come out to fix it. I try to tell ‘em, but most just tell me to fuck off, ya know? Ain’t nobody want to listen to some homeless dude.” He patted the man on the back, seeming to snap him out of whatever awe-inspired state he was in. He quickly smiled and ran off to his car. Torry grinned after him, nodded to something off to the side, before turning and heading down the street to the library.

***

Torry stood outside the library, grinning up at it. He loved it here, loved it since he was a kid. He made a point of coming here once a day, every day, just to look around at everything. Maybe check out a book or two. It was a lot harder when he had a job. Guess that’s one of the benefits of not having a place to work - you can do what you want, when you want. Usually. He still made a point to go home every night - a homeless man with a home, heh, funny - go to his sister’s house, have a meal, take his meds, a shower, and sleep. He was lucky to have her. Hated relying on her and her husband, but lucky all the same. Torry fixed his green beanie more tightly onto his head. Now if only he had enough sense, some focus, to apply - fill out job applications. His grin widened a little. It wasn’t focus he needed; he needed someone just to hire him, warts and all. Torry laughed a little, startling a small woman walking into the library. He flashed her his toothy grin, which she shakily returned. He put his hands into his baggy jean pockets, sighed - an action which pushed his large chest out, raised his shoulders, lifted him onto the balls of his feet before settling back down, relaxed. He continued to stare, a little dreamily at the building, just as he did every day.

The library was a beautiful building. It might not have been the most glamourous, but there was no denying that the architect put a lot of thought into the design. It’s basic shape was a cube - no point in fixing what ain’t broke, that’s what his mama always said - held together with brick, mortar, and a little granite. There were thirteen steps to the top, thirteen regular sized, smaller steps, and one large one, a landing. Can’t have thirteen of anything, that’s bad luck. Very bad luck, mama. The architect was smart enough to add that landing, but not smart enough to add a ramp - that had to come later, some fifty or so years after the building had first been constructed. They had tried to match the aesthetic of the stairs, but it looked too new. They should have roughed it up a bit before opening it up to everyone.

The building had two levels available to the public and one that was strictly offices. Windows - big and clear despite that number of hands that touched them - looked out onto the streets below. The doors were large - big enough for giants to walk through, small giants, though. Torry liked to think giants were over ten feet. Twenty feet was scarier than ten. Imagine Jack looking up at a twenty foot tall giant versus a ten footer. Scared shitless no matter what, but the hand on the twenty footer would be way more intimidating, all encompassing, deadly. Fee fi fo fum.

The only unique thing about this building were the statues, the little busts, that lined the steps. The architect had decided to add a bust on either side of the staircase, each representing a famous author and their corresponding genre. Thirteen steps plus a landing made for twenty-eight busts plus one large one in the entryway of the architect himself, some old white guy named Bartholomew Winterhouse. Well, his bust wasn’t white - it was copper or some other red material. He just looked white. And that name, pretty damn white sounding. Torry thought he once read a book about Mr. Winterhouse, but he couldn’t remember. If he had it was before the accident, and he couldn’t remember much before the accident.

Torry climbed the steps to the library, slowly, methodically. He greeted each bust with a “Hey, how you doin’, man, good to see you. No bird shit on ya, I see!” and “Ma’am, you look lovely today, yes, lookin’ good. Fine little golden statue you are.” The busts made no reply. In the back of his mind, he knew it was strange, greeting inanimate objects, just as he knew whenever he did so, he received odd looks from passerbys. He didn’t care. God would judge him. No one here had the ability to do so.

He reached the top of the steps and pushed passed the doors. They were open, wide open, like the arms of a friend. He smiled at the female security officer - Dana Blechman, nice lady - who returned his smile. Still good with the ladies. Always good.  Torry walked up to the information booth, just inside the doors. He didn’t need anything; he practically lived at this library - hell, they should hire him he was here so often, knew so much about the place. That would help him. He once asked about it, if there were any openings. The woman behind the counter - she had been a cute thing, reminded him of his niece, Sharkeisha - no, that was his cousin - niece’s name started with an A...Alayah? No. Allyson? Shit, he’d remember it eventually. Yeah, the cute woman behind the counter, she had told him unfortunately the library only hires those with a MA in library sciences. He had laughed and asked her what kind of a degree that was. He had started talking about book nerds in lab coats, reading Shakespeare and pouring chemicals into vials, someone shouting that this concoction would prove that Poe was writing some racist shit in that orangutan story. The lady librarian had laughed at that. He liked her. Kara, her name was. Why did that name come easier to him than his own goddamn niece? Ariel? Alexis? Fuck, what white girl name did his sister give that girl?

He liked Kara and all of them at the library because they were cool. That’s how he would say it. An academic or one of those Freud doctors - psychologists? Psychiatrists? - would probably have phrased it as “Mr. Wright was ostracized as a semi-homeless man, stereotyped to be unclean, insane, and grossly uneducated. The library offered him a safe space off the streets, a place where his idle brain and hands could find some use,  while the librarians looked passed his old clothes and slight smell and saw the intellectual that he was, a well-read man in an unfortunate circumstance.” Maybe a little duller; scientists had a tendency to not use language to their advantage, choosing form over function in their writings.

Torry approached the booth and quickly scanned the line of people behind the desk. Kara was here today, all right. So was...Jimmy Gambino, Gracelle, and...he squinted at the end of the line. Someone new. He didn’t recognize that shock of blue - turquoise - hair or those ugly-ass white framed glasses. He needed to introduce himself. Proper.

He waited in line. There weren’t too many people there. Most who came to the library knew what they wanted and didn’t bother with the information booth. Torry smiled at those walking by; they often returned the smiles or stopped to say hi before going left - science fiction and fantasy - right - children and young adult - or upstairs - everything under the sun. A couple small kids - looked to be about three and five - ran up to him. Their mama followed a couple feet behind, bags under her eyes, and hair up in a haphazard bun. Her stomach and chest were swollen.

Torry crouched down and grinned. “How you doin’, there?” he asked the three year old.

The kid didn’t answer, instead yammering about their morning, getting dressed, eating breakfast, coming here. A whole lot of nothing. Torry kept grinning, nodding along with the kid. A couple of “ah yeah,” and “I know that,” and the kid was grinning along with him. Kids liked that. It didn’t matter if you had any clue what they were saying, as long as you pretended, they were on cloud freaking nine. His niece and nephew were a lot like that. Especially his nephew, always talking up a storm. Mitchell? No, no? What was his daddy’s name? Mishawn? No - that’s way off. Michael! Yeah, Michael. Sweet kid, like this little guy here.

He looked at the older kid - two boys, mama must have her hands full - and said, “What are you here for, man? Spider-man or somethin’?”

The bigger boy kept his eyes down, shaking his head. Shy little guy, huh. Torry kept his distance - shy people liked their space - and tried again. “Nah, you wouldn’t like him. You don’t look like the Spidey type, though - ya know, Spidey’s black now!” The kid glanced up, eyes wide. “Yeah, Miles Something. Some M sounded name. Not good with names, here. But yeah, he’s a black kid. Might wanna check him out. My nephew - his name’s Michael. Michael Alexander Templeton Junior - MJ - he likes the spider-kid. But you -” Torry looked the kid up and down, pursing his lips for a second before breaking into a megawatt smile - “you like that magic shit - shoot, crap, right?” The kid finally looked up, into Torry’s face. Jackpot. “Harry Potter, that kid’s more your style, yeah?” He nodded, cautious and unsure. “Now I never read no Harry Potter, but my sister’s kids love him. And I seem them movies, great stuff, great stuff. Books probably better.” He nodded again, a little more sure. “You know, my shit - crap, don’t you start swearing, no copying me - my favorite was uh...Tol...Tolkien. That guy with the hobbits and shi - stuff. I liked that. Tolkien and Beagle and, uh, Christ what was his name...Pullman and Pratchett. Ya read their stuff?” The kid shook his head. His eyes were wide, absorbing everything Torry said. Their mom stood behind him, a hand on her enormous belly, rubbing gently. She looked cautious but had a strained sense of calm around her, like she was trying to appear relaxed around this big guy talking to her young boys. Torry couldn’t blame her. “You should, you should. Hobbit, and uh, Last Unicorn by Beagle, and...Discworld by Pratchett. They the best. Go and check them out and let me know what you think.” The boy nodded, his little brother nodding along with him, and they took off.

Torry laughed. He smiled at the mom and stood up. The line had all but disappeared. He watched the mom follow after her boys in the children’s section. They should find all those books there, if not...he might have to talk. Actually…

He approached the last person at the information booth. Blue hair. It was pretty. They were pretty. Pale skin, no zits or anything, a little soft looking, like a chubby Bambi, cute little deer with round cheeks and bright eyes. Torry grinned and leaned on the counter.

“Are you here?” he asked.

Blue Hair looked a little confused. Torry leaned in - not too close, don’t wanna appear like a creep - and read the name tag. Charlotte. Pretty name.

“Miss Bronte - that what your mama and daddy have in mind? Or was they thinking about E.B. White?”

Charlotte blinked, stunned. “Uh, no, no. It’s my grandmother’s name.” Her voice was soft, light. “She passed shortly before I was born. I uh, never really thought about it, but yeah, Charlotte Bronte and, uh Charlotte’s Web. Usually I, uh, get one or the other. Can I help you with anything today, sir?”

‘Sir.’ He liked that. Not in a weird way. He had been calling people sir and ma’am his entire life; felt nice to have it turned on him. Being treated with respect. “Well, I got a couple things. First, is you really here?”

“Yes?”

“Gonna sound rude here, Miss Bronte, but the question makes me suspicious.”

“I don’t know, uh, what you mean by that question.”

Torry laughed a little. Course she wouldn’t understand. Well, he shouldn’t judge. Man don’t judge - that’s God’s job. His sister understood to an extent, but she didn’t really understand. Sympathy versus empathy. Something like that. “Sometimes I see people that I saw passing by on the street,” he explained. “I see some guy with a pretty red bird and suddenly I’m seeing him all over - the diner, this here library, the train tracks. And he ain’t really there. Everybody around me say so.”

“Oh. Oh, no I’m, uh, I’m here. Just started today.”

“Well, alright, good.” He turned behind him. No one was in line behind him. And Eamon wasn’t there either. Good. Just once today, after he helped that nervous kid at the meter. Once is good. More than that...not so good. And he was having a good day. “Gonna be a good day,” he mumbled, more to himself.

“Is there anything else I can help you with…?”

He turned his famous gap-toothed grin on her. “Bernard Torrance Wright Junior. Everyone calls me Torry.”

“Torry,” she said, lips quirking a little. “Parents name you after, uh, Jack and Danny Torrance from The Shining?”

He laughed, loud and deep. Man, she was funny. Like his sister and niece - they were quick. “Nah, but you’d think that, wouldn’t you? No offence. That was smart. Nah, it’s my daddy’s name - don’t know where Torrance came from except his mama. Funny thing is my sister’s name, her name’s Susannah.”

“Like Susannah Dean?”

“Yes and no. Coincidence. Funny, though, right?”

“Very funny.” She was smiling. Torry looked again behind him. Still no one.

“Her middle name...my mama’s name was Cairo, like the city in Egypt.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and, uh, she liked to say - my mama liked to say that she was descended from the queens, the pharaohs you know? I think if my daddy woulda let her, she woulda named me Osiris or some shit. ‘Scuse me, crap. He let her do what she wanted with Susannah, though, so mama named her Seshat.”

“I can’t remember that one.”

“Iss okay. Seshat was uh, a librarian and scribe. Focused her talents mostly on accounting, math, history, and astronomy. Think that’s why my sister is a - a teacher.”

“Makes sense.”

“She got two kids, my sister. Her and her husband. He also a teacher, a math one, I think. Her kids...she got a boy named Michael Alexander Templeton Junior - common to name your boys after their daddy - and a girl...shoot, can’t remember her name.”

“That’s all right. Is there anything book-related I can help you with?”

He jerked his head. Shit, maybe he wasn’t gonna have such a good day. Jerking was never a good sign. Did he take his meds?  Torry looked down at his hands. They were shaking. No, no, he took them. Susannah always made sure he did - she was good to him. Why was he shaking, jerking? He clenched them into fists and put them in his pockets. He looked around. More people were in the library, but there was no line behind him. Jimmy was helping a kind-looking old lady, but that was about it. Torry held down another jerk, and looked back at Charlotte.

“Yeah, sorry. Get distracted easily. Uh, just wanted to make sure you got some books in the children’s section and not the fantasy.”

“Which ones?” She sat up a little straighter, looking eager to please, and typed something into her computer.

“I shoulda checked, but I don’t go into the children’s section that much.”

“That’s okay.”

“Uh, The Hobbit, Last Unicorn by uh, Peter S. Beagle -” she was typing into her computer, eyes focused completely on the screen - “Discworld by Pratchett - can’t remember his first name - and uh, Golden Compass by Mr. Philip Pullman.” He waited a second. “Last one might also be under Northern Lights - they changed the name in America for some reason. Maybe they think we don’t know about the lights.”

“They do that a lot,” Charlotte said. “At least often enough. Harry Potter is The Sorcerer’s Stone here but The Philosopher’s Stone everywhere else. Publishers were afraid Americans wouldn’t understand the book was about magic, so they changed the title.”

“Thinkin’ we idiots when we beat their butts in the war.”

Charlotte grinned at him. “Right? Looks like we have all of those in -”

“Excuse me.”

A man appeared next to Torry. He squinted at the man - no, he was a white dude. Nothing like Eamon. Shorter than Torry - most men were, mama used to say Torry was built like a damn bull, he was so huge - with a crop of gelled over dark blonde hair. He looked professional, in a nice pair of navy trousers, white collared shirt, and a beige cardigan. Looked like he was a librarian, though Torry couldn’t recognize him. He squinted harder. Shit, was this another faker?

Charlotte looked between the man and Torry. “I’m sorry, sir. I was helping him -”

“I need your help.”

Charlotte looked down the information booth, slowly. Torry followed her gaze. Kara, Jimmy, and Gracelle were all at their spots, smiling at the incommers. No one was in front of them. “I’m sure one of my colleagues would be able to help you, Mr.”

Torry snorted. He shouldn’t have, but it was funny. The man gave him a dirty look, before turning back to Charlotte.

She ignored him and turned her body a little more firmly towards Torry. “Sorry, uh. All those books are in the children’s section, except for, well, most of Discworld. We have a few copies of The Shepherd's Crown checked out -”

“I have a meeting in Room 192,” the man looked pissed. Not as pissed as Charlotte, who quickly tired to school her face into a kind expression, but still pretty pissed. Middle aged, white woman about to ask for the manager pissed. “I need to know where Room 192 is.”

“Sir, we have maps right over there by my colleague, Jimmy. Jim - can you -”

“I don’t want a map. I want you to tell me.”

Torry scowled down at him. He knew he was no faker - even in his fucked-up mind Torry couldn’t come up with a dickhead like this guy. He shook his head. Susannah told him he shouldn’t say that. He wasn’t fucked-up. He had a condition. Million had it, she had told him.  When mama died, Susannah took over everything - including Torry. She insisted - hell, begged him to get help, and he accepted it. Anything for her. He felt better too. The fakers disappeared - mostly, Eamon still popped up, but the doctors - she even got him doctors, Susannah, she really was good to him - said it might be something else. Maybe he had PTSD or something. He had laughed because that’s what he needed, two things wrong with him. Everything had gone well until he forgot to take his meds, and then it was like a snowball. An avalanche. Susannah and Michael Senior opened their home - he was lucky, so lucky. Michael offered to help get him a job, but Torry declined. He was stubborn, too much like their mama and daddy to accept that. He could take help from his little sister, but...not when it came to a job. That he had to get on his own. He just had to.

He snorted and the man glared at him. “What?” he asked angrily.

Torry shouldn’t have said anything. He should have shaken his head and let Charlotte deal with the dickhead. But he was his parent’s child, silly as that sounded. And just like Bernard Torrance Wright Senior and Ciaro Norman Wright, he did not have a filter when it came to assholes.

“You’re just being a dick, man. You need to wait your turn. Plenty a people will help ya. Kara, Jimmy, and, uh, Gracie. They’re just sittin’ there. You wanna pick a fight, kick the black guy outta line.”

“Are you calling me a racist?” The man looked like he was gonna start foaming at the mouth. Jesus. Torry looked around at the library. People stopped and were staring. Some had taken out their phones and were recording this. Everybody gets interested when a white person looks to be fighting with a black one, especially when that “R” word gets thrown about.

“I didn’t say nothing about that.” Torry said. “I just said you wanna pick a fight, otherwise you woulda gone to someone else, not Miss Bronte over here.”

“Why did you bring race into it? I’m not racist!”

Torry snorted. The man’s eyes started bugging out of his head. A faint snicker coursed through their growing audience. Dana Blechman slowly made her way into the room, hand going towards her walkie-talkie. He laughed a little. Shit.

“Sure you ain’t, man. Sorry I offended. Look, I’ll just step aside -”

“Do you know who I am?”

Ah fuck. Why couldn’t this white dude drop shit? Torry raised his eyebrows. The man pushed up on his tiptoes - any other time that would have been funny, had he not been on the receiving end - and got into Torry’s face. He looked deranged, eyes wide, a sneer curling his mouth.

“I am Ryan Pollick, the youngest lawyer to ever make it to Richmond and Kaymuk’s Law Firm - the youngest lawyer in the city, hell, the state! I have friends in high places, pal, black friends too. You need to show some respect!”

Torry looked down at him. Pollick was breathing heavily. Torry nodded once, then turned to Charlotte. “The Wee Free Men is in stock? Color of Magic,too?”

Charlotte’s mouth opened. She shut it quickly then looked at her screen. “N-no,” she said. “Wee Free Men is in stock in the children’s section - we have about two copies, but The Color of Magic is - well, it’s in stock, but it’s in the fantasy section. We only have -”

“Tiffany Aching in the children’s section,” Torry finished. Charlotte nodded. Torry smiled at her. “Thank you, Miss Bronte.” He turned back to Pollick. The man had sunk back to his feet, but looked no less ferocious. Like a chihuahua in a purse. Torry pointed up the stairs. “Room 192 is up the stairs. Landing you can see splits off into two sections - you’ll wanna take the one on the left and stay left. Those take you to conferences and offices. Even numbers on left, odd on right. There a couple breaks, but keep goin;’ those are just bathrooms and closets. Have a nice day, Bollock.”

Torry waved goodbye to the information booth and started to walk out. The room rumbled quietly as people started to discuss what they just witnessed. Torry raised his hand to Blechman, who nodded, looking relieved.

He hopped down the steps, now going down the right side, quietly saying hi to each of the statues before turning down the street.

***

Torrance ended up spending most of the day in the park, reading an old copy of Wyrd Sisters. He had read it before - hell, he had read all of Pratchett’s books at least a dozen times - and the pages were falling out. Might have to ask Susannah to a new copy. All his books were starting to look like they belonged in the trash.

He held the book in his hand, tracing over the cartoonish depictions of Pratchett’s characters. He hoped that boy checked him out. It was a good series. Good themes and shit.

Torry cracked his neck, and tossed his bag over his shoulder. He began making his way to the train tracks.

***

The sun had gone down when he had finished Wyrd Sisters. He smiled to himself and put the book back into his backpack. He didn’t usually finish things. TV shows, food, books; getting ready was like revving up an old car - a lot of stop and go. It was part of his condition. Least that’s what Susannah said.

He sat back on the grassy space next to the tracks. It was his favorite spot next to the library. Besides the library. The tracks were nowhere near the library. He had always liked trains, more so as a kid. They felt like the start of something. What? Anything. They could - would if you had paid the price - take you anywhere, take you away from everything. After Eamon...Torry shook his head. Before Eamon. Before.

He never was good with time. Past time. Backwards clocks. They were difficult to remember. Moving forwards - when the library opened, when his sister and brother-in-law went to work, when the kids went to school - those times were clear as day. A good day with lots of sun and shine.

It had to be before the accident, though. He was always like this, always a little off. He saw things that weren’t there, heard things no one else could. They were never malignant - no, that’s a tumor. What’s the word? Malicious. That’s it, malicious - they were never malicious, so he had never thought they were a problem. Until mama and daddy found out. Then it was a problem. He was too old for them to pass it off as imaginary friends - since when is too old too old for imaginary friends? Who decides this shit? - and that’s when it became an issue. That’s when he knew he was fu - messed up. He had a condition.

It wasn’t given a name until after - was it after? Yeah, it was after. Ambulance had taken him to the hospital to check and see if he had a concussion. No concussion. A few broken ribs, a broken nose, and a mind that had been broken forever. Didn’t know why. Well, knew why his body was broken, but not his mind. Nobody knows that.

He remembered the doctors - not the ones that fixed his body, other ones. Ones that asked him lots of questions about things he’s seen and heard. The doctors told his parents and Susannah. Why had she been there? Cause of Eamon. Eamon was gone. And then, shit, then he said those bad things. “E didn’t fit so God took him out. Shoulda named him John Coffrey or Ben Hanscom. Christian names. Names that fit us. He wouldn’t have died if he had the right name.” Mama broke down and cried. Daddy didn’t know what to say, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Susannah just looked sad. When the doctors told them - “we think your son had schizophrenia” - they hadn’t said a thing. They had looked relieved. There was a word for it.

And what a word. Torry shifted in the grass and stared over the tracks. Schizophrenia. Starts with a snake noise. Hisss. Then a sharp C, like cookie. Piercing like thoughts and images, like Eamon broken and bloody, flying out the car windshield.. A soft I, sounding kinda like when you don’t know how to reply. “Eh.” But with an I. “Phren” like saying “friends,” which is funny ‘cause when you have the diagnosis of schizophrenia, ain’t no one wanna be your friend; you just have your sister, if that. Susannah’s a good friend, good sister. She don’t think so but she is; she just got a stubborn older brother, that’s it. Then - where was he? - ah. A soft sound to round the whole thing out. It was pretty. A pretty word for something he couldn’t explain.

Torry looked at his backpack. Maybe...maybe he’ll go home tonight.  Go to Susannah and Michael’s home. Have dinner. Sleep. Take a shower. Oh, nice long shower. Nothing out of the ordinary. Take his meds. Ask Susannah if he took them this morning. Then...and yeah, maybe he’ll take Michael up on that offer. Get that janitorial job. Then...then move out and be a man again. Susannah would still insist on paying for his meds and doctor visits - making sure he took everything. That would be okay. So long as he was taking in his own, wasn’t crowding their space.

He looked up at the hill across the tracks and the bridge above. There was some graffiti up there. How did anyone get up there? They got stilts or something? Stand on top of the train and spray a design before it goes? Gotta be Flash to do that shit. God...God would be there. Maybe that’s what this morning was all about. God telling him to go ask Michael. That’s what mama would say. God is reaching out to you, boy. That’s what she’d say.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Torry turned. Some guy was stumbling towards him. Looked drunk, his shirt pulled out of his trousers, cardigan askew. Ass-cue. Funny. Torry took a deep breath. Smelled drunk too. Nasty beer. Nothing fancy, just...nasty. He looked familiar. Wrong, though. Like deja vu, but you know something’s wrong. Torry squinted. The man came closer. Ah, shit.

“You, fuck, you got me fired you, shit fuck!”

Torry started to stand up. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything to that white guy. What was his name? Bollocks? Weird name.

“Look, man, I didn’t do nothing. Sorry you looked bad -”

“I did nothing wrong! You can’t even - you don’t - I needed to know where to go, and you made a scene!” There was spittle coming out of Bollock’s mouth. A bit landed on Torry’s cheek. Nasty. Nasty beer leads to spit and nasty attitude. Torry didn’t wipe it off. Might piss off Bolly; anything can piss off a drunk, and a pissed off drunk is worse than an angry drunk.

He backed up. No one’s coming. He could cross the hill and start to Susannah’s house. He turned his back, and made his way down his hill. Jack and Jill.

“I’m fucking talking to you!”

He ignored him. Something shattered - beer bottle - next to him. He started walking faster.

“Hey! Hey, shit fuck, come back here!”

What kind of a name is shit fuck? Your name is Bollocks. You have no room to call anyone a shit fuck, whatever that was. Can’t even come up with good nicknames, why are you scared? Torry - he wasn’t scared of him hurting him. Being hurt. He didn’t want conflict. Not alone, not with a drunk.

Heavy footsteps behind him. Torry thought he should turn back and say something. What? No. No that wouldn’t do anything. Don’t need the cops called. Don’t need to be hurt. Does he have a gun? A weapon? Doesn’t matter. Drunks will do anything, use anything. There was another noise getting louder, rumbling. Rumble. Rumble. Like a lion. Purring. Lions don’t purr, though. Rocks, pebbles, really, chattered at his feet. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit -

“Fuck! I said -”

Torry turned around. What a sight! Two bugged-eyed men, mouths wide. One short, semi-polished white guy, looking like a vase someone knocked off a shelf. The other a big black dude in mixed-matched clothes, alternative style. Mirrors. Carnival mirrors.

“Man, we gotta go somewhere else. Train’s coming!”

“You think I give a fuck about the train?”

“You will when it kill you. Come on, let’s go!”

He shouldn’t have said that. Drunks don’t like to be told what to do. Not angry drunks. The man’s eyes got wide and he stomped over to Torry. He tried to side step him, but the guy got in his space. “Don’t. You. Fucking. Tell. Me. What. To. Do. You. Shit. Fucking. Ni -.” Each word punctuated with a shovel or a jab in the chest. Noises getting louder, so louder. Harder to hear the white guy, though he knew what he said. The word on so many white guy’s tongues, in the back of their throats. A word ready to spill over, be thrown out like a boomerang; but they don’t want that to come back. They want it to be like one of those shitty boomerangs on TV. They fly and hit something, and don’t ever come back. But they do. Maybe not a minute later, maybe only a little later, maybe years - but it comes back and strikes them on the back of the head. And they cry asking what happened. Cause they forgot. But he didn’t. Black folks don’t. You remember. You remember.

What Torry remembered suddenly, as he was pushed into the tracks, as the train sounded, loud and violent, no longer like a lion, but something man made, piercing and sudden, no preamble, was her name. Annaleise. A searing pain. Bright light. Loud. Annaleise was louder, though. Annaleise Anut Templeton. The warrior.

***

The police, ambulance, and fire arrived half an hour later. They had received a frantic call from the condoctor about a man falling in front of his train. “I couldn’t stop”, the conductor had said, his voice hoarse from crying. They had assured him it wasn’t his fault.

It was gross - there was no other word for it. The body lay in two pieces. A big man, maybe seven feet tall when pieced together. The conductor had said he fell into the tracks and stumbled backward, tried to get his footing to jump off. He didn’t make it. The man had turned enough to where his torso was off the tracks - and that’s where it hit him. His lower half still lay on the tracks, a bloody mess. The clothes mashed with the meat and bone. Blood was everywhere.

The torso wasn’t clean, just...cleaner. Blood and entrails fell around the torso. Some still connected it to the pile that had been his lower half. His backpack was open slightly, torn book pages flying around him and those at the scene. Some pages framed his head and upper back, like a warped halo.

The worst part was his face. Bulging eyes and mouth, opened wide at the horror. As though he knew the train was coming. As though he wasn’t supposed to be there.

***

2 Years Later.

Pete Sampson stood at the edge of the railroad tracks. He swallowed and checked his watch. Five minutes. He straightened his back and rocked on the balls of his feet. It would be quick. It was quick for that one guy - Benjamin or whatever his name was. Guy made the news for how graphic it was. Pete swallowed again. Best to focus on the quickness rather than...the aftermath.

“Whatcha doin’ here, man?”

Pete turned his head. A young black man stood just a few feet away from him. He hadn’t heard him come up. Pete looked him up and down, taking in his Stanford hoodie, army jacket, and ripped jeans. Dude didn’t look like he belonged here; clothes were too nice, too clean. He shrugged in response.

The man came closer. He kept his space, a couple feet to Pete’s left, and mirrored him - hands in his jean pockets, arms pressed to his sides, shoulders hunched, and facing the tracks. Pete watched him out of the corner of his eye before glancing at his watch. Four minutes.

“Always liked it here,” the man said. He was still looking at the tracks. Or maybe the little hill across from them. “It was away from everyone without being away, you know? And...I could think about leavin’.”

Pete said nothing. He swallowed again, his throat dry and eyes suddenly itchy. He rubbed at them, tears collecting and sliding down his worn cheeks. Damn cold weather.

“Your mama loves you.”

“What?”

Pete looked at the man. The guy’s eyes were on him, large eyebrows furrowed in concern. Why did he care? He didn’t know him.

“Your mama,” the man repeated, “she loves you. She’s tired, but she loves you. Mamas are like that. They get tired - workin’, cleanin’, takin’ care of their babies - but they don’t stop lovin’ their kids.”

“She’s got my brother. She’s fine.” Pete had no idea why he was telling him this. He let out a shaky breath and checked his watch. Three minutes and thirty seconds. The pebbles on the tracks started to shake. He took another breath and started forward. Then hesitated. He swayed for a moment.

“Yeah, she does.” The man hadn’t moved, hadn’t reached out to stop him. “She has - what’s his name? Chad? Thad? -”

“Tad.” He didn’t ask how he knew.

The man nodded. “She has Tad but she also has you. Her babies. Probably sees you as a set. Salt and pepper shakers. Corn and - and - shit, I dunno, what goes with corn? Peas?” He shook his head. “Whatever. Your her boys, her boy.” Pete looked up at him. The man reached out and gently, slowly, put his hand on Pete’s shoulder. There was a loud noise to their right. Neither moved. “Go home and talk to her. Give your mama a hug. Betcha she’s sittin’ there in her chair, cryin’ and wonderin’ where her boy is.”

Pete stared for a moment. The pebbles rattled violently below; a loud horn sounded. It vibrated in his bones. He shifted...and nodded. Pete turned away from the tacks and made his way up the hill.

He should have said something. Thank you? He glanced back, wondering what he could possibly say. The man was gone. A small smile curled his mouth and he kept walking up the hill.

***

A lot could happen in two years. Graduation, a new job, new relationship, the ending of a relationship - the possibilities were endless. For Ryan Pollick, the last two years felt endless.

He wasn’t sure what drove him to come back to the train tracks. If he had been smart, he would have stayed away. The cops didn’t trace anything to him. They probably could have if they wanted to. But no one cares about mentally ill guys, regardless of how friendly they seemed. Ryan scowled. Friendly. That was one word.

He pulled up to the hill next to the tracks. Nothing had changed. Little fence was still there, a sorry attempt to keep people away from the tracks. Lot of good that did. Teenagers and homeless fucks alike were hopping over that thing, the teenagers for the thrill, the homeless for...who the fuck cared? The only new thing - Ryan sneered - was a little white cross next to the fence. RIP Torry Wright.

Anger, red, burst in Ryan. Fucking Torry Wright. He shut off the engine and got out. For a moment, he just stared at the sign. Then, he kicked. The cross fell over - it wasn’t very deep in the ground - and he kicked again and again. It didn’t break, but now the pretty white thing was covered in dirt, gross, just like the man it honored.

Ryan snorted and looked down the hill. It was dark, and he couldn’t see much. He had thought about coming here in the day, but the dark feeling had swelled up inside and he decided to wait until night. It was difficult to explain the dark feeling. Many would have attributed it to guilt; he knew his wife, Emily, would have done so. But that wasn’t it. It was...fear. Cold and dark. It pierced his bones and mind, caused his teeth to rattle. The fear of being caught and losing what little he had gained in these last two years.

His sneer deepened, and he climbed over the fence. He walked down the hill, hands in his suit pockets, before stopping a few yards from the pebbles, the tracks.

He remembered everything. How video of him at the library, being talked to like some idiot by that fucker, went viral. How people saw him as some antagonistic racist - him, racist! - messing with some idiot homeless guy. People scouted him out, listened to that audio. If there was one regret he had, it was stating his name and place of work. Those viral videos should have taught him better. SJWs would hunt you down if you so much as looked at a black dude; didn’t need to give them a hand.

Ryan remembered coming into the office after the meeting.  James Richmond and Carrie Dean Kaymuck Richmond themselves had called him into their office. He had been elated, thinking about his Emily and their baby girl. He had been certain he was getting a promotion - he had done so well on the Himmolt case - hell, he had done fucking supreme on every case, every client given to him. Instead, he was met with fury. Cold and hot. Two sides of the same emotion, emitting from the husband and wife owners, as they showed his the viral video. How he had been nicknamed Line-cutting Larry. Carrie Dean’s eyes burned as she told him to pack his things. Ryan had turned to James, and that fucker just stared, eyes cold.

He had done what they asked. He grabbed his shit and went to another law firm. And another. And another. Each and everyone of them denied him, pointing at that goddamn video. He had graduated top of his class at Stanford, and he couldn’t get a job in the city. If it hadn’t been for Stephen Pollick giving his only son a job at his tech company...Ryan didn’t like to think about it. He glared at the tracks.

There was not an ounce of regret in him. Not when he shoved that nigger. Not now. And there would never be regret. He ran his hand through his hair. He had no idea why he came here. To show off? He smirked. Two years and he was finally back where he belonged. It may not have been Richmond and Kaymuck, but it was a firm, nonetheless. He had another girl; three beautiful girls - Emily, Cassia, and Violet. He was still in the backroom, but soon, soon he would be out in front, publically getting people off.

Ryan laughed a little. Raking in the money while that fuck who ruined his life was dead. Smushed. Mashed. He laughed harder.

“What’s so funny?”

Ryan grinned and looked. A tall black man stood off to the side of him. He hadn’t heard him approach. Ryan looked at the lights framing the tracks, then back at the man. He looked familiar; it felt like a senior looking through the freshmen section of the yearbook. Ryan pointed to the man’s hoodie. “What year?” he asked.

The man didn’t respond. He took a step closer, and Ryan’s smile fell. There was something off about him.

“Why you here?” the man asked.

Ryan stared before shrugging, his back straightening and jaw tightening. He shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t make conversation with some dude, let alone a black dude you meet at the tracks.

“Two years.”

It was wrong, off. Something changed. Ryan stiffened, not out of superiority but out of that dark feeling quickly seeping into his body like an oil slick.

The man stared at Ryan, eyes burning brightly. “Two years ago, Bernard Torrance Wright Junior decided to take his brother-in-law up on his offer, get a job. He never even made it home.”

“No, he didn’t.” That wasn’t incriminating. Ryan knew the law. It was just a fact. Wright didn’t make it home.

“He had a family. Sister, brother-in-law, two great nieces and nephews.” The man held up two fingers. “One of each.”

“It was sad.”

“Not to you, you shit fuck.”

The dark feeling started to gnaw at Ryan. Get away - get away. He started to leave, when the man pushed him in the chest. Ryan stumbled backwards. The pebbles were starting to shake. A horn blazed in the distance. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck -

The man stood in front of him.

“Listen,” Ryan started. “I - I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about -”

“Yes you do,” the man said quietly. It was getting harder to hear him. The man straightened. He shimmered. There was no other word for it. His body shimmered and gleamed like some gossamer fabric had been in front of him. His youthful face faded away into something older, worn. A gray and black beard framing deep laugh lines. A dusty green beanie on a graying hair. His legs - oh, Jesus - his legs vanished. At his pelvis was a mass of intestines, hanging out of his body, dripping something, like a leaky faucet.

Ryan looked up in horror. The man’s face was set.

“Oh fuck -”

“Fuck you, you shit fuck!”

The man shoved him and Ryan screamed. The train came, loud, not stopping. The pebbles bounced, jittered. He watched. Ryan was there, and then he wasn’t, caught under the wheels of the train. There was a thump, but nothing else. The horn’s screams continued on, man-made screams muffaling man-made screams. He closed his eyes. A weight lifted itself off his shoulders.

“What do you think happens now?”

Torry opened his eyes. There was a man in a nice black suit. Man in Black. It looked a little too tight on him, too modern. Torry’s body shimmered, but the man held up a hand.

“Don’t change on my account,” he said. Torry froze, his body remaining as it had been when he died.

“You ain’t scared.”

“Not really.” The man came closer. “I’ve been watching you. You’re a good man, Bernard.”

“I don’t know you.” It sounded childish coming from his mouth. The train was still going by.

The man smiled. “Carleton Ruscoe,” he said. “I’m a paranormal investigator.”

“Carlton Bank’s doin’ ‘Ghost Hunters’, now?”

His smile widened. “You know your pop culture references, don’t you?” Torry shrugged. Carleton’s face sombered. “You still didn’t answer my question. What happens now? You’ve fulfilled your purpose of staying here.” He gestured to the train. “Where do you go?”

Carleton wasn’t wearing any paranormal gear. Maybe things had changed. Two years is a long time. Surprisingly longer once you’re dead and don’t have a calendar. They should fix that. Calendars for ghosts. Maybe Steve Jobs can make a phone for ghosts. Dead obviously can’t read Living folks’ calendars or there’d be a lot few hauntings.

Torry watched the train for a moment. “Guess I go up now,” he finally said.

“Go up where?”

Was this man dumb? Torry pulled a face. “Up. Heaven. Chill with my bro Jesus over a cold one.”

“You think He’ll let you up?”

Torry’s eyes widened. He had to let him up, right? He stared at Carleton. “Everybody told me God lets good people into Heaven. Believers get a really special place, but all good people go to Heaven. Like dogs but only some people.”

Carleton nodded. “What makes you a good person?” He pointed to the tracks. The train finally passed by. There was a lump where Ryan had been standing, unidentifiable as anything remotely human. Maybe a microscope or some CSI detectives could see a person, but most would see...gunk. Did he look like that? Torry glanced down at his body. Just his legs. He didn’t remember his legs, but they must have looked like a squashed bug on a windshield.

“I been helpin’ people,” he said. He looked at the other man. The man stared back, his lips quirked. “I’ve been helping.”

“One bad deed overwhelms them all. It’s true that you’ve saved fifty, maybe a hundred lives. But you have also taken a life. Not out of mercy, but out of vengeance.” He paused. Torry’s eyes widened impossibly. No. No. This man - he doesn’t know God. He doesn’t know the Bible. The Bible says - “The fifth commandment: Thou shalt not kill.”

Torry started to rock back and forth, his intestines swinging. His breathing was ragged. “No. No you wrong. Thou shalt not murder. That’s - that’s what it says. Killin’ is takin’ an innocent, but murder is takin’ - takin’ a not-innocent.”

“Do you really think that matters to God?” Carleton took a step closer. “We interpret His commands however we want them, but we don’t really know what He meant...what He means. The church says one thing - He could have very well meant something a little different.” Carleton looked at the tracks. Torry couldn’t look. He couldn’t. He was good. He had been good. Life and death. He had to go up. Why wasn’t he going up? “And, to be quite frank, Bernard...how do you know this man was not innocent? He pushed you, yes, and for that he will suffer. But he was also a devoted father and husband. A loyal son. Attended church every week. God...God would judge him. That’s His role. And you did it for Him.”

He couldn’t. No. No. That’s not what - God judges, He is the Judge. But Torry did the judging. He tried him - he had been the court, the jury, judge, and executer. No defence. God had a defence attorney - He looked at everything, the whole of someone’s life. He was Judge - and Torry...Torry...

Carleton reached into his pocket. “Why do you think you’re still here?”

Torry screamed. He grabbed onto his beanie and pulled. No. No. No. No.

“I’m sorry, Bernard.”

Torry bent over, still screaming. Carleton threw something at him, small and square. It hit him in the head. He couldn’t think. He...he was good. He was...There was a sucking noise and then nothing. Silence.

Carleton strode over to the box and picked it up. He put it in his pocket and, with one last look at Ryan’s remains, walked up the hill.

2001 13 GHOSTS VS 2018 13 GHOSTS

The Torso: a man missing his limbs; could be a result of how he died or a birth defect.

Jimmy “The Gambler” Gambino loved to make bets. He had been making them since he was a child. Unfortunately, his last bet would prove deadly. He gambled against the wrong man, and as a result, he was chopped up, wrapped in cellophane, and thrown into the ocean. He is still looking for his head.

Bernard Torrance “Torry” Wright was a homeless man with schizophrenia. He was loved by many, but not all. One of those men ended up taking his life, pushing Torry in front of a moving train, severing his body in half. Unlike Jimmy, Torry was a relatively benevolent ghost, a gentle giant in life and death.

Taurus, the Bull: With the First Born Son being Aires, The Torso would align with the zodiac Taurus, the bull. Torry was a large man, built like a bull, according to his mom.