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jbbuckybarnes · 4 years

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Spiral of Feelings - 2/5

Pairing: Bucky x Reader AU: Fake Dating AU Description: Natasha makes you feel bad about being single and how your apartment looks. Sam and Steve annoy Bucky about dating. Seems only fair that you both fake it to show them that it doesn’t make a difference. But what if it does? Warnings: Judgemental friends, gossip, dating, flirting. Absolutely not proofread and written half a year ago, lol.

Masterlist // Spiral of Feelings Masterlist

You were lounging on the couch in the common room, editing the pictures of the previous day, when Bucky came in and jumped onto the couch next to you with a soft smile. “Hey.” You gave him a small smile, Wanda eyeing you both. “Hey,” he answered just as soft before grabbing a throw blanket for himself. “What are you doing?” He asked after he made himself cozy. “Editing pictures from our date.” You grinned, this all felt oddly easy. “Can you make them wallpaper size?” He asked dipping his head to the side. “Of course.” You faked blushing before falling back into the concentration of picture editing. “I read that there’s a meteor shower tonight, wanna watch it together?” You looked up from the phone and saw the corners of his lips go up. “I’d love to,” he answered nodding. “Gosh, you both are adorable.” Wanda chimed with a joyful voice. “Thanks Wan.” You faked blushing again, something you had learned for missions a while back. Getting a billionaire to believe you’re legit needs acting skills. Now they finally paid off. You cuddled yourself closer to your personal heater and he let you under his throw blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders. “Are you always this cold?” He chuckled while his hands wrapped around your feet that were even cold in the cozy socks you were wearing. “Well, yeah, it’s pretty much winter.” You giggled and got pulled closer. “Oh, which picture to you want as a wallpaper? The smile one or the one with the kiss on the cheek?” You held the display towards him. “That one.” He pointed at the one with the kiss and gave you a blushy smile back. “Thought so.” You grinned before leaning against him and having him watch while you made the wallpaper all decorated. “You look so adorable in it.” He whispered, you giggle in response, much to the liking of Wanda who watched you with an excited grin.

*So...do you actually wanna see the meteor shower or would you rather hang out in your room?* You wrote him a little later in the day. *Of course I wanna see it!* He answered, mainly enticed by your question including his comfort rather than your cause of faking a relationship. *I’ll bring snacks, see ya!* He picked is book back up while you were sorting through your snack drawer. “Bucky, huh?” You heard from your door.. “Leave me alone.” You grumbled. “Why so mad?” She grinned. “Nat, I swear. If you don’t leave my apartment I’ll attack you with chocolate bars!” You hissed. “Okay, okay, gosh.” Her arms went up and she walked backwards. “Come back when you don’t make me feel like shit anymore.” You closed the door. Nat had bombarded you with this topic for too long to now have the privilege of gossip. Shortly after you were searching for a specific pack of pop tarts, a very seasonal edition that you were slowly running out of. “God, I might actually have to get rid of all the trash in here,” you mumbled to yourself. Kitchen cabinet, garbage bag, a look at the packaging littered all throughout your kitchen and bedroom. “C’mon, you can do that,” you say with a deep breath, “Friday, play some motivating music.” And with 7 Rings by Ariana in the background you started searching for the sacred stash of your favorite pop tarts. After two garbage bags were filled and stored by your apartment door you finally found the last few boxes and held them up with a happy squeak. Three knocks, “You ready, sugar?” He couldn’t even end the sentence before you opened the door with a basket full of candy. “Yeah, yeah, I think just-...could you?” You held it out and he took it from you before watching you put on shoes. “Now. Now I’m ready.” You smiled reaching for the basket again but he held it away from you. “But…” “No, I’ll carry it.” “Have you watched a meteor shower before?” You looked up at him while walking towards the exit. “There was one the night before I was shipped off to Europe. After the Stark Expo and a little bit of dancing I just sat there and watched the sky.” His eyes were somewhere else and he had a comfortable smile on his face. “Did you...no, forget it, not important,” you mumbled. “No, now I wanna know.” He grinned. “Did you think you’d come back?” There was a thoughtful face for a second. “I hoped it, but I knew my chances were a good 50/50.” He shrugged. “That must’ve sucked,” you mumbled. “Yeah, it was...well, a different time.” He gave you a lopsided smile before coming to a hold in the middle of the darkness outside between the compound and the water nearby. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now to play an elaborate prank on all of our friends and don’t think it’s the weirdest thing ever.” You chuckled before sitting down on the comfortable laying bench Stark had put there. “Wait, I have a question.” He looked at you innocently and you nodded. “Can I wish something for every shooting star?” He dipped his head to the side. “I don’t make the rules, I’d say yes.” “Woah, there was one right behind you.” He pointed out and you giggled at his childlike excitement. After you made yourself comfortable and opened a M&M’s bag you started looking up. “There!” He pointed at it and you saw half of it in time. “Never not beautiful.” You mumbled with a little smile. “Yeah.” He looked over at you and then up. “There was another one, couldn’t yell in time.” You laughed. “Traitor.” He chuckled. “Hey, not everyone has super soldier reflexes.” You laughed and nudged him. “God, you’re cold,” he mumbled. “It’s okay, I’m used to it.” You smiled over at him but witnessed the hoodie he was wearing already half over his head, revealing a black shirt underneath. “Here.” He held it out. “I- You don’t have to. I don’t need to-” He shoved it at you with a raised eyebrow. “Fine,” you grumbled before putting it on and drowning in warmth and softness. “Am I that much bigger than you?” He raised both brows. “What do you mean?” “Well, you look so goddamn small in it.” He gave a cheeky grin. “You’re a giant, Buck.” You rolled your eyes before you both started chuckling and looked up again. “THERE WERE TWO AT ONCE!” You yelled out excited, not noticing the fond smile he gave you. “Does that mean two wishes?” “I guess. Hmm. Oh, I have two.” You closed your eyes and made two wishes. One was to do more with Bucky even when all of this is over and two was a dozen of his hoodies. A few more shooting stars later you were asleep. You were used to being cold so much that the hoodie functioned as a blanket to you. It was like he gave you a sleeping pill instead of a piece of clothing. You woke up the next morning in absolute warmth, the candy basket next to you and a little sticky note attached to it. *Thank you for watching shooting stars with me <3* The trashbags by your door were gone too, you started considering fake marrying him too, cause that was absolutely not his job and he did it anyway. *Might steal all of your hoodies, still considering why I shouldn’t do it.* You wrote him after fully waking up. *My closet is open to you...maybe don’t empty it completely.* You got out of your apartment and walked to the common area kitchen, since you knew they got donuts. The moment you entered the room some of your teammates stared at you. “What?” You grumbled still tired. “Isn’t that Barnes’ hoodie?” Sam pointed at you confused. “Yeah, have a problem with it, birdy?” You smirked before snatching a donut for yourself. Behind you, you heard another apartment door close and almost silent steps. “Morning.” James gave a tiny smile to the room, irritating them even more. Bucky doesn’t smile in the morning. “Morning, space girl.” He gave you a bigger smile and hugged you, “Morning, giant.” “Gosh, I’m melting. They’re so in love.” Wanda sighed and earned even more stares. Not everyone knew about the date so this seemed to be slow gossip since not even Bucky’s bro’s knew. “WAN! We’re going on dates, that’s not the same.” You blushed. This time you actually blushed and didn’t play it. “Yeah, but I can see it.” She gave you a big smile and made you hide in Bucky’s hug. You felt him bite into the donut you held up and jolted up again, “Excuse me?” “Hey, I brought out the trash and borrowed you my hoodie.” He defended himself. “They already sound like a married couple,” Steve mumbled in the background while shaking his head. “Please don’t steal my food, okay?” You made big eyes up at him. “Fine.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “But you can have the rest of this one.” You held it out to him before stepping out of the hug and towards the big donut box. When you turned back to him you were met with a soft smile already pointed at you, “Huh?” “You’re like...drowning in that thing.” He pointed out. “I think it looks cute on me.” You looked down on you. “Yeah, it does.” He knew he had a problem right then and there. You were absolute trouble.

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dashhoney25 · 4 years

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SB: seven

JERMAINE

“Don’t cry for me anymore baby girl, cry for yourself” I said to Natasha as she walked past me into the closet of our bedroom. This wasn’t what I expected to come home to, but my feelings towards her were right. Something hadn’t been quite right for awhile and I couldn’t put my finger on it, and she happened to reveal it all tonight. I took a seat on the couch at the foot of the bed. I kicked off my shoes, and watched her get dressed in the closet. Natasha threw on a matching nighty set and grabbed her silk robe. Coming out to place her towel in the bathroom, she stopped as she met my gaze on the couch.

“So it’s true huh? These marks on your neck.” I asked standing up before her. She shook her head, “Yes” she said taking a step back from me. I felt anger overtake my body and I rushed her into the wall with my hand around her neck with a slight grip. Natasha gulped heavily looking my eyes. “How the fuck? What the fuck were you thinking?” I yelled at her putting a slight shake to her neck. Natasha slightly gasped for air and I quickly let go, undermining my own strength. I was letting my anger get the best of me and I took a step back from her feeling myself getting a bit choked up. I took off my shirt and backed away from her completely. “I’m sorry” she managed to get out, holding her neck. “Sorry?! Bitch you lucky I don’t-“ Before I knew it the word just flew out, I couldn’t help myself in my wrath of anger. “Bitch?! You might wanna rethink that!” Natasha said with an attitude coming towards me. I walked into the closet to drop my shirt in the hamper when she followed me. “I don’t like you behind me like this in an enclosed space. Get from around me Natasha!” I barked. She snatched the shirt away from me before I could drop it in the hamper.

“Don’t you ever call me a bitch again!” She yelled. “Drop my fucking shirt in the hamper girl! If I touch you, I’ma hurt you!” I warned. “Hurt me?!” she questioned in disbelief staring at me. I furrowed my brow at her repulsive response, here I was coming home to comfort her, and she drops the bomb on me that she’s cheated on me. But now she expects me to talk to her when she’s disrespected our relationship. “Look, I’m not doing this shit tonight. I’m not fucking with you in an enclosed space!” I said leaving the closet. She followed behind me, I guess she noticed that I was pretty hot with her, I could feel the reddening on my face growing from anger. I couldn’t accept the news and I’ll be damned if I let her talk me down right now. I had so many questions, and another reason to just leave. Four years just wasted away over Natasha’s selfish indulgences once again. I was so disgusted to the point that all I wanted to do was hurt her. Jail didn’t scare me, but the consequences of tonight would jeopardize my future and cease the existence of my legacy if tempted. This woman brought out the best in me and dragged out my worst. I hadn’t felt pain like this since the first time with Malcom and for that I was ready to go to war over her.

Naïve isn’t the word I’d use for myself, but I wasn’t a stranger to her games. With her admission of guilt and betrayal, I wanted to know why simply because I have been nothing but good to her. There’s no excuse in the world or reason as to why anyone would want to tarnish something that I thought was everlasting. I can’t fathom why anyone in their right mind would be so self-centered and ignorant to something so good in front of them. I watched as she stood at the threshold of the door, staring at me as I breathed heavily trying to calm myself down. “Have you gotten tested?” I asked as calm as I could. Natasha sighed, “Not yet” she breathed. I sighed in disappointment, “I know you’ve been fucking us both. So why haven’t you taken some responsibility for your actions?!” I asked angrily. She shook her head like a child. “NATASHA! This isn’t about you anymore! My life is at stake! You’re playing with multiple people right now, and if there’s something that I need to know, you better find out quick!” I yelled.

Natasha jumped at my voice. “Jermaine, I’m going in the morning. Chill” “Chill?! You added another nigga to the party and you expect me to chill?! First my homeboy and now this?! Who is this cat anyway?!” I asked her. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore” she said walking away. “Sit your ass on this bed and talk to me!” I yelled. Natasha kissed her teeth, “You’re not gonna talk to me like I’m a fucking child Jermaine!” she said walking up on me. Out of reflex, I pushed her onto the bed quickly. Natasha crossed her arms immaturely and watched as I stood in front of her, waiting for her to talk. “Throwing me on the bed isn’t gonna make me talk” she spat. “But fucking around on me got you here. So who is he?” I asked. She shook her head and fanned me off. “So you wanna defend him and keep him a secret but you couldn’t defend us by keeping your legs closed?!” I questioned. “Would you stop being childish?!” she retorted. “And would you stop being a hoe?! You fuck my homie of 10 years and then you do this. Guess I need to stick around for the next nigga to take his turn huh?” I roared sarcastically. Defeated, Natasha rose from the bed, “So that’s how you really feel about me” she asked glossy eyed and heartbroken. “Nah, that’s how you really feel about me” I said touching her chest that was covered in hickeys. Staring in her eyes, I knew that my words cut deep and I went overboard. I couldn’t bring myself to apologize.

I was hurting and I had to bring her back down to my level. I couldn’t look at her the same anymore and for the first time, I wasn’t turned on by her… not even a little bit. Her true colors were showing and she appeared unapologetic by her responses. She wouldn’t tell me who he was, and she called me childish for my insults. But her actions alone were selfish and scandalous to say the least. I would’ve never imagined we’d turn out this way, not even after making up from her first incident. I just didn’t want to believe that she’d take us there and back again. “I wanted a life with you, a family… everything” I said lowly. “Go ahead, tell me I’m the worst. I’m undeserving of your presence. A true apology results in changed behavior, clearly I still don’t get it.” she spoke attempting to hold back her tears. Though she was right, it didn’t seem genuine to me. I didn’t think she really understood the fate of our relationship and the damage she caused.

Natasha left the room and disappeared down the hall. I closed the door behind her, now alone in my thoughts to soak all of this in.

NATASHA

Walking into the guest bedroom, I closed the door behind me angrily and leaned against the door. Sliding down against the door, tears flooded my face as I attempted to wipe my tears. I was so distraught at what was happening, and I knew that I made the situation worse by coming off unapologetic. I wanted King to know that I was sorry and that this was never my intention to bring him back to a place like this, but when he started calling me out of my name and disrespecting me; all bets were off. Yes, I disrespected our relationship, our sacred bond, but I didn’t deserve to be talked to like that.

The hardest part of this process is that I’m going to have to tell King the truth: how long this has been going on and with who. It’s not that I’m protecting Adonis for the hell of it, but it makes me look even worse knowing that I’ve been sleeping with a man who’s engaged to one of my close friends. I can’t bring myself to look worse than what I already do, knowing that I’ve ruined my own happy home. I picked myself off the floor and climbed into bed. I looked over at the nightstand and noticed the corners of a black book sticking out of the shelves. Curious, I pulled the book out of the shelf and realized it was an old photo album of King and I.

Opening the photo album my heart instantly dropped at the old photos. The album contained pictures of King and I when we first started dating and pictures of us from when we first purchased the land to get this house built from the ground up. I found myself pointing at old photos reminiscing on how young we looked and how I was so small back then. Old Christmas photos appeared, and I couldn’t help but smile looking at the pictures of the gifts we had given each other and how we loved decorating the house together. Time had flown for us and I couldn’t have been happier looking back on the good times we’ve shared together. As I continued to browse through old pictures, I couldn’t help but feel an eerie feeling; as if I knew something was coming. The feeling felt all too familiar once I reached a special part of the album. This particular page entailed a blue and pink background with a cute little egg on it. I felt my stomach drop as I turned the page.

Turning the page, I came across a picture of my positive pregnancy test, an ultrasound picture and picture of King holding a onesie. My vision became blurry through my tears as my hands trailed the page. Going through more pictures, now looking back, you could tell that I was pregnant. You could see the big smiles on King’s face and mine in further pictures. We were so excited about this pregnancy, especially after recovering from my infidelity with Malcolm. Babies don’t fix things, but this pregnancy enhanced our love for each other and our hope for the future. We were still in process of a name, and a few weeks short of learning the sex when we received unfortunate news of no heartbeat. I didn’t want to accept it and nor did I believe the ultrasound sonographer until a few days later my world came crashing down with unexpected bleeding. During that time, I was an emotional wreck. I questioned myself, my body, and my relationship with King. I sabotaged our relationship, and we lost our baby; I felt like things were all my fault, or maybe karma had caught up with us. Regardless of what I felt, King never left my side and he made sure that I’d never cry again over something that was out of our control. We were still hopeful for a family but felt that we should give it some time.

Closing the photo album, I placed it back on the shelf in the nightstand and felt myself getting emotional. Crying, because of all we had been through, I realized in that very moment that I truly fucked up. I had thrown away my life for good, just for a quick fuck. This man was about to walk down the aisle, and here I am sabotaging myself… for what? The more I thought about it, the guiltier I felt. I couldn’t stay in my thoughts any longer, nor could I be away from King. I climbed out of bed and proceeded to the master bedroom. The door was cracked, and the lights were low, I know King was still furious with me, but naturally I couldn’t stay away. Even if we didn’t speak to each other, I had to be in his presence. I’m hurting in more ways than most, and I want him to know that I’m truly sorry; and I can’t waste another minute not being in his sight.

Pushing the door open for me to walk in, a shirtless King pulled the covers back and stared back at me. Taking off my robe, exposing my nighty set I took a seat on the couch at the foot of the bed and placed the small pillow behind my back. Sighing, I placed my focus on the television. Within minutes the television went black. “I’m going to bed” King called out. I could hear rustling under the covers, and I knew he was kicking off his boxers to sleep naked like usual. I adjusted my hair into a high bun and proceeded to stretch out on the couch. “I’m really sorry King” I finally spoke.

I heard a click and then a flash of light appeared. I sat up to see King, he turned on the lamp on his side of the bed. We stared at one another a moment, I could feel myself getting turned on at the sight of him. Any other night I’d be buried under the covers lying next to him with my arms all over his big strong body with him deep inside me. But tonight, I’m surprised we’re speaking to each other. “Tash, you sleeping in here tonight?” King questioned. “Yeah…” I said nervously. “You know that couch isn’t comfortable” he added. “I know” I said looking down, I know I’ll be paying for this in the morning. King stared at me once more, he seemed to be contemplating something. “Well, good night” King replied before turning the lamp off.

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harvest-honeymoon · 5 years

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Raining Pitchforks

So,,, this is that Court Verse intro I talked about in the twitter poll I linked earlier. This is a long fuckin’ boy but I had a lot of fun writing it, since I really enjoy these characters.

Just as a note, this fic contains swearing, mentions of the Devil and urban legends, and 2 instances of misgendering, as Orianna/Pirouletta is a transwoman still coming to terms with her identity and hasn’t disclosed it to Sixer/King Dice. I know that subject matter can be triggering for some folks, so I’m putting a warning and ‘#misgendering tw’ for blacklisting purposes.

“Son of a bitch, whose idea was this?”

The question posed was rhetorical and often reiterated. It made Irving smile faintly and shake his head, even as he felt rainwater patter against the inside. Thunder rolled in the background, making his cup-headed brother Rudyard flinch.

Although the two toons lingered under an outcropping of trees, the torrent the sky bore seemed unyielding. The branches that loomed above them did little to shield them from the weather, let alone the handmade box of moonshine that sat at their feet. The rocky outcroppings behind them were slick from the rain. Even the mountains seemed soaked.

“You were th’ one who wanted out th’ house,” Irving replied.

“Well, yeah,” Rudy answered. “I was goin’ stir crazy! I can’t jus’ sit an’ sleep all day.”

The red toon wrung out his shirt, frowning. The bent, striped straw in his head swooped along his rim as he looked down at himself.

Although Irving didn’t pace about or bubble over, he too frowned, brow furrowed. He leaned against the damp trunk of a tree, arms folded over his chest. One hand’s set of fingers drummed on his upper arm.

“Y’think we rushed him?” Irving asked. “Made him nervous?”

“There’s nervous, then there’s leavin’ us an’ our hooch in th’ pourin’ fuckin’ rain,” Rudy said.

“I doubt he was gonna buy any of Ma’s stuff, Irv, even with th’ discount.”

Irving sighed quietly, bowing his head. Rudy picked up the box.

“C’mon, let’s go. We’ll catch our death out here.”

“We’re still fifteen bucks short.”

Rudy had started to take a step out from under the canopy, only to pause. Irv didn’t move a muscle.

“Irv, things’re tough all over,” Rudyard replied after a moment.

“It won’t be th’ end of th’ world if we tell ‘em we need a couple days. Even then, we’ve lived without electricity b’fore.”

The cup toon took the step he’d been planning, then another, starting to walk away.

“We can make candles like we used t’ when we were sippy cups. Bathe in th’ river.”

Rudy flicked his straw, so it sat comfortably at the back of his head.

“Who needs gas power anyway?”

Thunder roared just above them, causing Rudy to jump again and stop in his tracks. Unmoving, Irving glanced to the box Rudy held, his eyes lingering on its smudging XXX label.

“We promised Ma.”

Rudy swallowed, then returned to the tree. The brothers turned to look out over a field of grass beside them, each in thought.

With the heavy clouds that clung to the sky, the night was darker than most. The distant lights of Nib City hardly penetrated the gloom, only catching a set of defunct railroad tracks cutting through the prairie grass. Urban legend told of a ghostly train that had taken residence in place of the old engine, after the railway company dissolved under mysterious circumstances decades back. Nights like this guaranteed its arrival and departure for the unlucky found alone and destitute, or so folks said.

While no train occupied this space, the mere idea made Irving apprehensive. The mug-headed toon pulled out a cracked pocket watch and wiped at the glass face, to give himself something else to look at. The time read 11:59 PM, then 12 AM only a few seconds later.

At the stroke of midnight, the field was bathed in a soft, orange glow. Rudy stared, then nudged Irv to get his attention. Both pairs of eyes followed the light, which seemed to dance across the grass and shadows, to its origin, a cave in the mountainside.

This cave had its own fair share of stories, around Inkwell Isle. Some had claimed it was a bottomless pit, from which none who fell could ever escape. Some had said it was some primordial womb, where all had been born and were to die, should they try to reenter the sacred space. The most commonly held belief, however, was that the cave housed unfettered evi, so vile and conniving, the locals had blocked the entrance with stones for generations. The Devil himself was said to dwell within the cave, and should he find some hapless soul within his domain, they were most certainly damned.

Due to these superstitions and its peculiar resemblance to a yawning mouth, the cave had been dubbed The Devil’s Maw. As times changed, beliefs shifted, and explorers ventured into its depths, the aforementioned stones were removed from its entrance, but hushed whispers still spoke ill of the place and the youth were discouraged from entering its bounds.

By day, it appeared a sleepy chasm, untouched by color or sunlight… But now, it spoke with a tongue of molten silver to the young men, beckoning them inwards.

“...you’re seein’ that, right?” Irving asked.

“Sure am,” Rudy replied, awed.

“...last one there’s chipped porcelain!”

The cup toon took off like a shot across the field. Irving stalled a moment then pursued, shouting his way.

“Rudyard, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“What’s it look like?” Rudy called back. “I’m goin’ lookin’!”

“Like hell you are!”

Clutching the moonshine to his chest, Rudy’s head sloshed liquid onto his shoulders and the ground behind him, but that didn’t stop either of them any.

“We need to sell that booze!” Irving spat.

“We’ve got 4 hours at most before the best bars in Nib close!”

“I know!”

“So why are you runnin’ the complete opposite direction, jackass?!”

Rudy grinned, looking to his brother.

“First off, my head’s gonna roll off my shoulders, with all this rain in it! I need it out, an’ I bet you do too! Second off, I figure if there’s light, there’s somebody livin’ here! If there’s somebody livin’ here, then there’s somebody who can buy our shit!”

Lightning struck just behind the two brothers, causing them both to yelp in surprise. Rudy let out an adrenaline-fueled laugh.

“You can’t tell me you wanna walk home while it’s rainin’ pitchforks out here!”

With these words, the brothers entered the cave and slowed to a halt to clean themselves up.

“I don’t, y’got me there,” Irv admitted. “But I doubt there’s anyone worthwhile here. The only folks you’ll find is at best, squatters, or at worst, a cult.”

“Since when do squatters put up neon signs? ‘R cults, fer that matter?”

Irving stopped and stared, following Rudy’s hand as he pointed. A large grouping of stalactites ahead and above them was emblazoned with a quartet of neon playing cards, each with a unique suit.

“...can’t say for certain,” Irv replied, unperturbed. “But I wouldn’t discount the latter.”

Rudy’s expression flattened, his hands busy straightening his head. He then picked up his box and started walking into the depths of the cave, with Irving in tow. The air had a strong sweet-sour smell to it, but it didn’t take long for them to get used to it.

“Y’were supposed t’ let me be right about people livin’ here,” Rudy snarked.

“Y’know, fer more than half a second.”

“That was a lucky guess,” Irving observed dryly.

“A lucky guess that’ll keep us from, I dunno, gettin’ pneumonia.”

“We probably have double pneumonia already at this rate.”

Despite his annoyance, Rudy chuckled as they walked along. Double pneumonia was another staple of banter between them.

“Triple fuckin’ pneumonia with a side ‘f exposure. It was like Noah’s Ark out there.”

The brothers continued into the cave, looking about as more signs of civilization came their way. Neon arrows pointing deeper into the Maw decorated the walls, as did moving signs depicting showgirls, drinks, chess pieces, dice, and more card suits. 2 more signs reading ‘WELCOME’ and ‘CASINO ENTRANCE’ were embedded into the hanging rock of the ceiling, with a 12 ft gap between each. The air around them warmed, the further they went into the cave.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Irv deadpanned.

“No way,” Rudy beamed. “Noooo fuckin’ way--”

“Who on Earth builds a casino in a cave?”

“Someone who’s real hep an’ happenin’ I bet,” Rudy said excitedly.

“They must have some real big operation, t’ have t’ hide it in here.”

“All the more reason to head back out,” Irving snarked, eyeing the advertising.

The brothers then happened upon a series of tall, rounded steps, carpeted with lush, red cotton and accented with gold trim. Two rows of white topped stanchions marked a path with velvet rope. At their feet read the words ‘TRY★YOUR★LUCK’. Beyond these steps laid a ritzy casino built on the edge of a cliff, unlike anything either of them had ever seen. Volcanoes erupted below and beyond their line of sight, painting the domed walls and ceiling of the cavern with the orange light they’d seen outside.

Dancing on the edge of theme park and luxury hotel, buildings in the shape of archaic chess pieces surrounded the back end of the establishment, giving the resort an imposing silhouette against the newly understood berth of the cave. The main building itself was tall and sleek in design, as it was cream in color with plum windows all down its front. Topped with a reddish dome roof, past a fountain of lava circled by prancing demon statues, and betwixt a pair of oversized game dice, the hotel lacked lighted signage, save for some neon pink cursive above its red front doors.

“The Devil’s Casino?” Irving mumbled to himself. “That’s awful kitschy,”

Irving stood, contemplating the architecture, while Rudy mounted the stairs, smiling wide.

“I was right! I was right, there’s people here, they’ve got money, I was right--”

In that moment, Rudy reached the top of the stairwell, only to bump into someone who towered over him. The cup toon took a step back and shook his head, only to realize what had just happened. The stranger seemed to have come out of nowhere.

“Aw hell, sorry about that! Didn’t see you there.”

“Y’needn’t worry, my good man.”

The toon Rudyard had bumped into had a game die for a head, a pencil-thin mustache, and a winning smile. Dressed to the nines in a cream zoot suit, shined and spatted shoes, and a pink bow tie, the stranger readjusted his suit jacket after the brush-by, but did so without making a fuss. His voice was sure to smooth over any remaining matters, as it was slick and low, but friendly.

“I was hopin’ I’d bump into you two. I heard y’halfway down th’ cavern.”

“Our apologies, sir,” Irving said, stepping forward. “The echo in here carried further than we thought.”

Rudy rolled his eyes and folded his arms. The die toon let out a short laugh.

“I didn’t say you were causin’ a racket,” the stranger replied. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“Are you here t’ play, gentlemen?”

“Yeah,” Rudy replied with confidence. “We’re here t’ pl--”

Irving put a hand over his brother’s mouth, causing Rudy to grit his teeth against his hand.

“Actually, we’re here on business.”

“That a fact now? Well, I s’ppose I should introduce myself then,” the suited toon replied.

He put forward a gloved hand for Irving to shake.

“Name’s Heath Cesarano. My friends call me Sixer, an’ I own Th’ Devil’s Casino.”

“Irving Biccheiri,” the blue toon introduced himself. “This is my brother, Rudyard. We run a bootlegging business out in the Scapes.”

Irving and Heath shook hands, freeing Rudy in the process. Although he seemed miffed by his brother’s invasion of personal space, the red toon shook Sixer’s hand as well, when it was offered to him. On mention of bootlegging, the die toon’s eyebrow quirked in interest.

“Is that what you’ve got in your hands there?” Heath asked, gesturing to the box in Rudy’s arms.

“Finest stuff on the east end of the Isle,” Rudy boasted.

“We’re looking to sell it,” Irving explained.

“I see,” Heath said, rubbing his chin in thought. “Do y’mind if I sample your wares?”

“Be our guest,” Rudy replied. Irving swallowed beside him.

On choosing a bottle, Sixer uncorked it and took a sip, hen pulled it away from his mouth. He smacked his lips as he tasted the spirits, then smiled at the young men.

“Say, that’s not half bad,” he remarked. “You boys’ve got somethin’ in the making, definitely.”

“In the making?” Irving asked. “Or worth selling?”

“Hah, you’ve keen ears,” Heath observed. His tone shifted as he spoke, sounding authoritative.

“I’m afraid that while I like what you’ve got, I can’t sell it at my establishment, nor can I let you sell it too close by. Th’ folks in there are lookin’ for high-quality hooch from names they know an’ can trust.”

Irving’s expression saddened with these words. Rudy took note and moved in front of Irving, looking Heath dead in the eye.

“No offense, Mr. Cesarano,” Rudy said. “But we’ve been selling our stuff all up an’ down th’ Isle.”

“We’re in some of th’ bars you’ll find in Nib City, an’ real popular in th’ Scapes.”

“That might be so,” Sixer replied. “But I only just met you boys t’night.”

“I’ve got a certain standard to meet at th’ behest of my landlord. It’s nothin’ personal.”

Rudy looked ready to argue but held off. Irving didn’t speak further, though it was clear he was trying to put on a brave face.

“We appreciate yer business, regardless,” Rudy told their new acquaintance. “That’ll be $3.”

Sixer pulled out four dollar bills and handed them to Irving. Irving paused, looking over the money in his hands, then looked to Sixer questioningly. Sixer winked, then spoke up again.

“If it ain’t too much t’ ask… Why are you boys lookin’ to sell, anyhow?”

Irving’s hands curled, as he folded his arms over his chest again.

“Simple,” Rudy answered, mirroring his brother’s gesture.

“We got bills t’ pay an’ mouths t’ feed, same as anybody. Rent’s comin’ up t’morrow an’ we’re eleven bucks short.”

“Ah,” Sixer replied. “My apologies for proddin’.”

“It is what it is. No need to be sorry.”

“I’m guessin’ you can’t sell much back in th’ Scapes, then?” Sixer prodded. “With yer presence?”

“Well, not right now, yeah,” Rudy agreed.

“We were s’pposed t’ meet somebody from Nib City for a deal,” Irving added. “But he didn’t show.”

“The storm caught up with us not long after.”

Sixer’s expression softened a little as the boys explained their situation. After a moment of thought, this softness faded away, instead replaced with a wily glint to the older toon’s eye.

“That’s a real shame that fella skipped out on ya, but I don’t think you’re out of luck for th’ night.”

Rudy looked on with interest. He had a feeling he knew where Heath was going.

“You could always take a shot at the games here,” Sixer continued. “If nothin’ else, you could dry off an’ get somethin’ to tide yourselves over.”

“I hear that storm ain’t s’pposed to let up until noon t’morrow. You won’t wanna be crossin’ those tracks out front if you can help it.”

Rudy considered the die-head’s words. Irving exhaled breath through his nose.

“You boys ever gambled b’fore?”

“I might be half yer size but I ain't-a kid,” Rudy scoffed. “Course I have.”

“Rudy, we should get going,” Irving muttered. “We couldn’t make a sale an’ we’re dry enough.”

“We couldn’t make a sale, sure,” Rudy replied. “But I could make a wager.”

Irving glowered at the prospect. Rudy frowned in response.

“Irving, if I play here, I could win us the cash we need t’ pay off rent t’morrow! We don’t gotta trudge out there, we don’t gotta get stood up-- It’ll be a cinch!”

The mug-head still didn’t look convinced, so Rudy put both of his hands on his shoulders, turning him away from Sixer so their discussion could be more private.

“Irving… C’mon, Irv. You’ve been workin’ yerself to th’ bone all month.”

Irving’s gaze went half-lidded. In the firelight and neon, the bags under his eyes could easily be seen. All the while, Sixer watched the young men talk to each other, grinning to himself knowingly.

“Let me handle th’ moneymakin’, you take a load off, an’ we can wait this out t’gether. You don’t gotta lift a finger.”

After a moment of consideration, the blue toon sighed.

“...Alright. If you think you can.”

“I know I can,” Rudy beamed. “They don’t call me Big Red fer nothin’.”

Irving cringed, making Rudy snicker. Sixer took a step forward, smiling.

“With a nickname like that, I can’t help but ask; you a craps player, by chance?”

“S’my favorite way t’ gamble!” Rudy answered, slinging an arm over Irv’s shoulders. Irving’s eyes narrowed.

“In that case, you should head on in an’ take a left, then a right,” Sixer advised.

“You’ll find our craps tables real easy.”

Rudy clinked his head against his brother’s as a gesture of affection, then took off into the casino, still holding the box of moonshine. Irving chose not to match his pace this time, as fatigue was starting to weigh on him. Sixer noticed as he looked down at his other pint-sized patron.

“And you?” Sixer asked. “Any preference?”

“I’m a cards guy,” Irving admitted. “But I don’t gamble, let alone in a place plastered with devils.”

Sixer’s grin got tight around the edges as he moved to Irving’s side.

“Aw, wheat, you superstitious ‘r somethin’? Don’t get yer suspenders in a twist, it’s just a motif.”

As the two walked into the casino, the various eyes of the devils in the decorating watched Irving as he passed. Irving didn’t notice at that moment, though he did feel oddly watched.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Irving replied. “What with that train track comment.”

“Hah, I wouldn’t call myself superstitious,” Sixer started.

“More just… Aware. I’ve had my fair share of experiences that’ve made me privy to the goings on around these parts.”

“Uh huh,” Irving replied, a bit distracted.

It was hard to blame him, with the hullabaloo going on around them, but Sixer still had to resist the urge to give him a dirty look. A uniformed toon with a heart for a head moved up beside Sixer to whisper something to him, before departing from the conversation.

The die toon looked down at the mug toon again, giving him an apologetic smile.

“As much as I’d love to continue our talk, I’m afraid I’ve got business t’ attend to. You’ll find our bars well stocked and lounges abound. If y’need anything, keep your eyes out for folks dressed like her--”

The die-head gestured to the heart toon, as she weaved in and out of the crowd.

“Or come find me. Oh, an’ I want you to have this.”

Heath extended a business card between two fingers to Irving. The card was matte and emblazoned with a devil, a pair of purple pipped dice, and multiple red roses. It even had gold trim.

“Like I was sayin’ earlier, you boys’ve got good stuff. I might take you up on the offer we discussed, should you improve yer product.”

“Thank you, sir,” Irving replied without enthusiasm.

“Please, call me Sixer. And if we don’t meet again, Irving, I hope you have a good night.”

“Likewise.”

With that, Sixer blended into the crowd, leaving each cup brother to their own devices.

— — —

By the time Irving supposed he ought to find his brother, an hour had passed. How, he had little idea.

One moment, he was being served water by an orange cocktail toon in a blue dress; the next, swing music roared through the halls, signaling the start of some sort of nightly shindig. Checking his pocket watch, the blue toon got up with a start and nearly fell off his barstool, but managed to tip his bartender and head out of the lounge without further trouble.

The joint reeked of booze, cigar smoke, and metal, with a tinge of marijuana and sweat, no matter what room he walked through. Noise constantly rang in his ears, ranging from vapid conversations and bad pick up lines to the obnoxious rattling, slamming, and pinging of an arcade. Top it off with the crowds of people trying to shout over the noise, and subsequently, each other, and Irving swore his porcelain head was going to crack from the decibel count.

It didn’t help that the damned place was so dark. For whatever reason, the architect had opted for interiors that caught shadows like a hungry spider, coupled with luminaires akin to candlelight. This only made the sounds louder, the smells stronger, and Irving’s mood worsen.

The mug toon’s discontent was so clear, it made Rudy pause just before throwing down his dice in another round of craps.

“Where were you?” Irving demanded.

“Busy,” Rudy said as he rolled. “What’s it look like?”

The dice hit the wall of the table, revealing a 12. Rudy winced.

The dealer came over and took half a stack of chips, handing them over to a skeleton in a bow tie and a bowler hat. The patron leered at him, making Rudy grouse and pull what little stacks he had close to him.

“I hit a good streak while you were takin’ a break, so I’m ridin’ it.”

”How good?” Irving prodded

“Those chips are worth $1,” Rudy said, pointing to his hoard and across the table.

“Those’re worth $5, an’ these are worth $10. I even managed to squeeze a 25 out of an Aussie on th’ far end.”

Irving glanced up, seeing a skeletal, bipedal horse where Rudy gestured. The equine toon looked mean, even for a dead man.

“This is more than enough, then,” Irving figured, averting his eyes to Rudyard’s chips.

“It was,” Rudy said. “Until you threw me off.”

He shot his brother a glare, as the crowd cheered for another patron.

“Now I gotta win it back.”

“Do you still have what we made outside?” Irving pressed.

“‘Course I do! I ain’t as dumb as I look,” Rudy exclaimed.

“Then... What are you gamblin’ with?”

Rudy rolled the dice again, earning himself a $5 chip.

“My soul. I cashed it out for $75 in chips.”

Irving stared at his brother in disbelief.

“What?” Rudy asked. “I didn’t wanna spend th’ money you got.”

“Rudy, we’re in a casino named after the Devil.”

“Yeah? And?”

“What do you think the cashier meant when they said you could bet your soul?”

“Th’ cashier didn’t tell me nothin’. Some dominohead he was talkin’ to told me it’s a secret transaction unique to this joint. Th’ guy looked like a high roller, so I gave it a try. I didn’t have to hand any money over or anythin’.”

“They just… Gave you the chips?”

“No, I had to sign somethin’ beforehand,” Rudy shrugged. “But that was about it.”

“Did you even read it?”

“I skimmed it,” Rudy admitted. “It was just some casino contract. No big deal.”

Irving looked like he was going to ascend, the longer Rudy went on. Before Irving could chew his brother out, both toons felt powerful hands on their outermost shoulders.

“Hi-de-ho, gentlemen,” Sixer greeted them. “How goes your game?”

“Oh, I’m the only one playin’,” Rudy explained. “But it’s been goin’ alright.”

“I took up that soul deal ‘f yours for these chips. We’ll be eatin’ like kings t’night!”

“Did you now? An’ how’d you find out ‘bout it?”

The look in Heath’s eyes was too pleased for Irving’s liking. The die-head, as if reading his thoughts, moved his hands off them and stood beside Rudy, as the two talked.

“I was talkin’ to some domino guy in a boater hat, at th’ cashier’s booth. He’s the one who clued me in.”

“That’d be my buddy Pippin,” Sixer remarked warmly. “He helps me run th’ joint.”

“Does your ‘buddy’ happen to swoop in on every country boy who walks through your door?”

Sixer was about to say something, only to pause with Irving’s comment.

“Awful convenient he was there to give Rudy the news. Especially since you were the only person we told about our situation.”

The suited toon chuckled lightly. Irving could feel the air chill.

“Pippin doesn’t swoop, Irving. He loves people as much as anybody.”

Rudy, half listening to their conversation, rolled another turn and scored an 11. The table roared in approval, the dealer slipping him a couple stacks for winning the bet. Ironically, the dealer had a head of stacked chips himself, his face lined with horizontal stripes of orange, blue, and indigo.

Irving immediately set to work counting the chips. Sixer eyed him with a sharpening gaze.

“So with that ‘soul swap’ you did and our remaining debt, you’d need... 86 bucks to break even.”

“How much more do I need?” Rudy glanced his brother’s way, catching his worn expression.

“10 bucks.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Rudy swore. “This table’s been colder than a meat locker most of th’ night.”

“Why don’t we raise the stakes, then?”

Sixer said this while motioning to the dealer, shooting Rudy a playful smirk.

“Sharps, get me a stack of fives, wouldja? I’m bettin’ th’ pass line.”

Sharps did as he was told, passing Sixer 20 $5 chips in exchange for a crisp $100 bill. The rest of the table’s players backed away, including the horse toon. Despite the change in atmosphere, Rudy grinned right back, a fire in his eyes.

Irving folded his arms tightly as the two men started to compete, forcing himself to watch the table instead of risking catching Sixer’s eye. There was something about the die-head that bothered him more than most, but he couldn’t place why, and that fact put him on edge.

A litany of rounds passed, but Irving wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone all of what happened. Some rolls got yells in glee, others had people throwing their hats to the floor. Chips went all around the rim of the table every which way, at dizzying speed. People chattered ceaselessly. The room seemed filled with eyes, all boring down on him and his brother.

Eventually, Rudy called out through the clamor, hopping up on the edge of the craps table to stand above the crowd. He breathed hard, face aglow from the adrenaline of gambling.

“Alright, you lot! This’ll be my last play!!”

Irving started to sigh in relief, only for Sixer to speak up. The die toon’s tone dripped with confidence and charisma, as he loomed over the craps’ table.

“If that’s th’ case, then I wager my soul an’ Sharps’! Right here, right now!”

Sixer pushed forward his remaining chips, which totaled to $150. The crowd whooped and laughed, eating up Heath’s enthusiasm like it was an inside joke. Sharps smirked faintly, shaking his head.

“Come an’ get me, small fry!”

The cup toon’s eyes rolled in his porcelain head like slots, turning to a pair of dollar signs.

“You’re on, Cesarano!”

Irving held his breath and lifted his head from watching the table, only to stare at something beyond the mass of people around them.

Across the room, there stood a great tapestry of imps and hellish creatures, galavanting through what appeared to be a monochrome jungle. Stretching high above the heads of the patrons gathered around, Irving would’ve figured it some priceless artifact… If the eyes of its inhabitants didn’t roll as well and fix on him. A chill spread throughout the mug toon’s chest.

“Rudyard,” Irving tried to say. “Rudy, we shouldn’t be here--”

“Irv, step off, I’ve got this.”

“No, you don’t. We need to go, now.”

The people around Irving booed, causing a ripple throughout the rest of the crowd. Rudy grimaced and threw his fists to his sides, midway through blowing into his rolling hand for good luck. His eyes had returned to their normal pie cut irises.

“I mean it, Irv, I don’t need your shit right now,” Rudy said sharply. “Let me do my thing.”

“My shit?” Irving demanded. “My shit?!”

“I’ve been dealing with your shit ever since we got here, Rudyard, and I’ve had it! If I weren’t exhausted from doing all the damn work back home, I would’ve dragged you out of here by your handle!”

The mug toon took a step forward, getting up in his brother’s face and earning more protest from the crowd. Rudy’s expression got dark, the liquid in his head bubbling.

“Well, now whose fault is that?” Rudy seethed.

“You never let me do fuck anythin’! I’m trying to do you a goddamn favor, so if you could sit the hell back and pull yer straw out of yer ass, I’d appreciate it!”

“Gambling isn’t a favor!” Irving spat. “Gambling is you, slacking off, getting into trouble, giving Ma a fuckin’ heart attack--!”

“You leave her the fuck outta this—” Rudy threatened.

“Then fold the damn game!” Irving ordered.

The cup toon clenched his teeth and looked his brother square in the eye.

“Fuck. You.”

Rudy threw down the dice forcefully, making them bounce hard against the back wall. Irving grabbed his wrist hard enough to bruise, but the damage was already done.

Snake eyes.

The crowd let out a low moan of sympathy and dissipated behind them. Now Rudy felt the same cold as his brother, looking down at the craps table. Irving stared down as well, then threw the cup toon’s wrist away, storming through the crowd and towards a doorway leading out of the craps room.

The moment he got a foot through the door, the mug toon collided with something hard enough to make him stumble backward. Irving sat up to protest, only to stop. In the meanwhile, Sixer made his way over to Rudy, putting a hand on his shoulder again, but without the camaraderie of before.

“Well, ain’t that a shame?”

A black sigil blocked the doorway. Looking around the room, similar occult drawings blocked the other doors, effectively trapping them in the room. Irving’s head moved Sixer and Rudy’s direction, hearing the snap of Heath’s fingers. With this motion, the contract Rudy signed appeared in Heath’s hand, which he proceeded to unroll and read over.

“Mhhm. As I suspected. You, my friend, are in debt.”

“Y’don’t gotta rub it in,” Rudy said quietly.

“Oh, I ain’t rubbin’,” Heath hummed. “But I’m gonna need both of your souls, as per our agreement.”

“What?”

Irving got up and stumbled back their way. Rudy couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I said,” Heath repeated. “As per our agreement, I’m gonna need both of yer souls, since that’s what I won in our wager.”

“Our souls?” Rudy asked. “As in… Immortal souls?”

“Mhhm,” Heath agreed. The die toon seemed detached, as if he’d gone through this spiel before.

“Why do you need his?” Rudy asked, pointing to Irving. “I’m th’ only one who signed.”

Heath smiled and shook his head, offering the contract for Rudy to read and reciting the terms off his head for Irving.

“Paragraph four, section one, addendum one. ‘Should the client be unable to pay a debt or a wager, due to a lack of necessary, spiritual capital, souls within the client’s company including, but not limited to, friends, family, pets, et cetera, shall be collected as seen fit, in order to ensure a fair transaction between the associated parties.’”

Rudy’s shoulders sank. Irving stepped forward to stand next to Rudy, though he kept distance between them. He stared hard at Sixer, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“...so we’re damned, then,” the mug toon said eventually

“Essentially,” Sixer replied. “I wagered my soul an’ my dealer’s in th’ form of those chips. Ergo, two souls. Rudyard here only had th’ chips to cover one.”

“I didn’t think you could wager a soul,” Rudy said, with a little laugh.

“I-I thought it was a steal… I… I...”

“Aw, don’t beat yerself up, wheat,” Sixer said, waving his hand dismissively. “Hell ain’t so bad.”

“I visit from time t’ time. It’s a little on th’ warm side, as you could imagine, but it ain’t all fire an’ brimstone.”

“...may I see that?” Irving asked, gesturing to Heath’s hand.

“Sure thing, kid.”

Heath handed over the contract, which Irving proceeded to scour. Rudy looked to Sixer with wide, sad eyes, mouth faintly open as if he was trying to protest. Sixer averted his gaze from the cup toon, opting for Irving instead.

“Here.”

Irving pressed his finger next to another paragraph and turned the paper Sixer’s way, then back to himself, to read.

“...paragraph six, section six. ‘Should a client wish for the return of their immortal soul, they are allowed to perform a designated task for the interested party, according to said party’s jurisdiction. This can include the retrieval of items and other souls, the harm or killing of another person, with or without a body, assistance in correspondence between the party and others, et cetera. Should the task be agreed upon by both entities and completed by the client, the client’s soul, and any souls hitherto collected, shall be restored.’”

As Irving read, Heath’s eyebrows furrowed, then perked, as he thought on these words. He got a wicked smile, seeing Irving’s angle.

“So you wanna work for me to get ‘em back, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Irving said, with a stony tone. The word ‘sir’ dripped venom.

“Well then you boys are lucky,” Heath remarked. “Cuz you ain’t the only ones who got rent t’ pay.”

The pair of siblings stared, apprehensive.

“I need souls like yours t’ keep the lights on here. My landlord ain’t interested in, ah, standard currency. There’s been a trend ‘round these parts of people comin’ to my place, sellin’ their souls to get chips… Then duckin’ out, whether they win or lose.”

Heath’s expression darkened. As he was 6’6”, he towered over the brothers, who each were around 4’0”, making him appear quite imposing.

“Now boys,” Heath went on. “Think of me what y’will, but I ain't-a cruel man.”

“I have it that my contract necessitates collection, but not immediately so. I let folks say their goodbyes, I let ‘em tie up loose ends… Hell, sometimes I let folks keep their souls ‘til their natural end if it strikes my fancy. I also know these folks are strugglin’, same as you. Everyone’s tryin’ t’ get by, however they can.”

Sixer paced around the cup toons as he spoke, fixing the rose in his lapel. He reminded Rudy of a jaguar, and Irving a cobra.

“But,” Heath concluded. “I believe that when terms like this are broken, they require punishment.”

“These folks agreed, like you, to hand over their souls and they know it. The lot of ‘em raided my casino a month ago an’ made off with their contracts, no doubt to try an’ forge up new terms, conditions, ‘r signatures. Those puppies are enchanted, so they can’t be altered by anybody but me, but I still need the physical copy I signed with my clients. They grant me proof of ownership.”

“So you want us t’ be yer repo men,” Rudy clarified. “Is what yer sayin’?”

“When it comes down t’ brass tacks, yes,” Heath agreed. “But you won’t be killin’ nobody unless you have to.”

“Those contracts have an agreed death date, as does yours. When I cash in, the clients will die as agreed, an’ their souls will be collected.”

“How efficient,” Irving said sarcastically. “How long do we have?”

“I’m sure you can guess,” Sixer hummed.

Irving screwed up his face, then let out a low, pained breath.

“Six days, six hours, and six minutes.”

Sixer smirked in surprise.

“I was right about you,” he said. “You really got a good head on those shoulders.”

“Sixer, all and no disrespect at once,” Irving deadpanned. “But I don’t give a shit.”

“You really should,” Heath purred in amusement. “It can get you places.”

Sixer slipped his hand into his pocket, then extended it to Rudy. Enclosed in his grip was $11.

“Consider this a deposit.”

Rudy took the money reluctantly, looking at Sixer with daggers. Sixer only smiled, like a cat who’d swallowed a canary. Once the money was exchanged, the sigils in the doorways disappeared.

Irving took initiative and walked out of the casino with long, punchy strides. Rudy followed not long after, leaving Sixer alone in the room. Once he was sure the brothers had gone, he called out to the rest of his patrons.

“Y’all can come out now, they’ve up and left!”

Like magic, the room was filled with people again, all getting up to raucous gambling and other forms of sinning. Sixer left the room with an accomplished laugh, dusting his gloved hands off each other. A moment later, he was seized by his bow tie and dragged down to someone else’s eye level.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

His captor was none other than his underboss Orianna ‘The Wheel’ Romano, a golden, geometric automaton in a dealer’s suit. Her nasally New Yorker accent bore into Sixer’s ears, but he didn’t mind at that moment.

“Giraudo, pal, you’re just the man I wanted to see!”

Sixer beamed on seeing her, but Orianna didn’t return the gesture. The name he called her made her uncomfortable, and while normally she could stomach its use, their current situation cut into her patience. She chose to press onwards in conversation and let go of him though, as she knew he meant no harm by it.

“You say dat every time I come sniffin’ you out, boss,” she huffed. “Now answer da question. I’ve been two steppin’ through dis helter skelter all night lookin’ for youse.”

“Sorry about that,” Sixer apologized. “I was outside earlier doin’ some carnival barkin’.”

“Carnival barkin’?” Orianna scoffed with a grin. “What year is it, 1925? Don’t we have people fer dat?”

“Sure, but I’m a professional.,” Sixer said with a sly wink. “Went t’ trade school and everything. I can’t let that degree get rusty.”

Orianna rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling a little.

“Don’t suppose ya roped in somethin’ to fix us bein’ 19 souls short?”

“Actually,” Heath replied, smug. “The funniest thing jus’ happened.”

Orianna looked his way, tilting her tapered head like some great bird.

“I bagged two souls jus’ now. Pair of cup headed folks from th’ Scapes. One of ‘em signed a contract but got in two souls deep.”

“Oh, y’pulled the old ‘one two’ on ‘em?” the robot prodded, interested.

“Yeah,” Heath agreed. “The one who didn’t sign was onto me, but the other guy? Pff, it was like takin’ candy from a baby. No impulse control t’ speak of.”

“Gee, don’t dat sound like somebody I know,” Orianna snarked knowingly.

Now it was Heath’s turn to roll his eyes, but his smirk didn’t die away. He was used to this line of talk between them.

“So we’re only down 17 now?” Orianna clarified. “Dat’s good, but I don’t get how dat’s a rip-snorter.”

“A what now?” Heath asked with a little laugh.

“A rip-snorter,” she reiterated. “Y’know, somethin’ real good an’ goin’ our way?”

“You sure Kahl didn’t fit ya with a faulty lexicon there, Romano?” Heath prodded playfully.

“It’s a real fuckin’ word, y’goon,” she insisted, gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder. “Ask around town.”

“Alright, fine, later,” Heath conceded. “Still, though, that one who didn’t sign asked t’ see the contract.”

“No shit. An’ den what?”

“He volunteered the two of em t’ get back our receipts,” Heath explained. “Under paragraph 6.”

A beat passed. Orianna’s eyebrows rose and settled, intrigued.

“An’... How old are dese guys ‘xactly?” she asked.

“21 ‘r so,” Heath said.

“Twenty one—“ Orianna rested her forehead in her hand.

“Please tell me dey got magic.”

“...I… Didn’t see,” Heath admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“...we’re outsourcin’ collect fer our boondogglin’ t’ a couple twenty somethin’s,” Orianna summarized flatly. “An’ you didn’t even check if dey got magic?”

“It’s not every day y’get free labor,” Sixer tried to reason with a shy shrug.

Orianna closed her eyes tightly.

“...Heath,” she said. “Why da hell didja agree t’ dat?”

Heath started to speak, only for his underboss to interrupt him.

“We got people fer dat, y’know. Lotsa people, actually, who’d be willin’ to chase down dose contracts for ya at da drop of a hat. Why on Earth didja cut a deal like dat wid a couple a bumpkins too far from home?”

“I know we got people,” Heath said. “But those folks who ran off with our shit don’t fuck around. I don’t want t’ lose anybody unnecessarily.”

“Unneces— Caesar, dis ain’t da minor leagues any more!” Orianna barked.

She grabbed his bow tie again, so that they wouldn’t be so easily heard. Her voice was a sharp whisper.

“Who gives a shit if a coupla card heads die chasin’ down Cagney Carnation or whoever da fuck? We got people all over da place who’d kill t’ be runnin’ wid us!”

“I got that,” Cesarano growled. “But we gotta play this smart, Gira. That last raid got our boys Chimes an’ Pocus killed, on top of a stack of card heads. We don’t know if those debtors are tag teamin’ still or flyin’ solo.”

“Don’t talk t’ me about playin’ shit smart,” Orianna seethed. “It’s my job t’ play shit smart. Or didja forget that while you were tryin’ to be 25 all over again?”

Heath pulled himself from Orianna’s grip, baring his teeth. Orianna gave him a hard stare.

“You watch your tongue,” Heath warned.

“An’ you keep dat bleedin’ heart ‘f yers on a damn leash,” Orianna said frankly.

“Just what the hell is that supposed t’ mean?”

“It means yer not thinkin’ straight.”

Orianna rested her arms on her hips, gesticulating in fluid, mechanical motions.

“It’s a shame we lost Chimes an’ Pocus but dat’s how it is sometimes, Heath. You of all people should know. An’ cuttin’ a deal wit’ dose kids? Dey’re adults, even if dey’re dumber dan a sack a bricks. Dey came here of deir own free will, an’ dey lost da draw. Why negotiate?”

Heath’s expression dipped, as Orianna continued.

“You dink dey can do all dat in six days? Or did one of ‘em give you puppy eyes ‘til ya bent fer ‘em?”

“I think they can,” Heath replied sharply.

“On what merit?”

“...they just…” Heath started. “I felt it, in ‘em. They had strong spirits, I guess. Reminded me of myself, back in those days.”

“If some scrappy kid from th’ Bleed could rise up, why couldn’t they?”

“Cuz—“ Orianna started, but caught herself. She hated being the bad cop in these kind of situations, so she exhaled some steam from her back vents, mirroring a sigh.

“...you really dink these kids got dis in da bag?” Orianna tried again.

“They might need a little help,” Heath admitted. “But I have… 80% confidence they got this.”

Orianna raised an eyebrow. Heath faltered.

“...ok, make that more of a 65%.”

“Dat’s what I figured,” the automaton remarked dryly.

“How do you think we should do this, then?” he asked.

“If I were you,” she said. “I would’ve sent a buncha card guys out dree weeks ago an’ kept ‘em pumpin’ ‘til we got dose contracts. If we needed reinforcements, I’d send dat lughead Iggy, August, ‘r Sharps out t’ finish da job. If we didn’t get any dice by dat point, den I woulda sent da kids as da clean up crew.”

Heath winced. Orianna noticed.

“Ah, sorry, analytic brain got goin’ dere,” she said with a modest expression.

“It’s alright,” Sixer said. “What should we do now?”

“If I were you, Mr. Sentimental,” she restarted. “Den I’d keep an eye on dose kids, either drough other people or checkin’ on deir progress myself, cuz I just can’t stand sittin’ behind a desk all day, drownin’ in paperwoik, an’ hearin’ my underboss tear me a new asshole wid ‘er brass teeth.

Heath let out a laugh, making Orianna smile.

“I’d use dose dorky die houses I got back in 1919 as a temporary base ‘f operations,” Orianna continued, still digging into her boss. “I’d hire somebody t’ trail those cup toons, an’ I’d default control of da casino to Pip.”

“To Pip?” Heath said between snickers.

“Yeah, cuz I’m comin’ with you, jackass!” Orianna said, earning another laugh from him. “Dis is a batshit crazy scheme you’ve cooked up an’ it’s my job t’ see it drough!”

“Alright, alright,” Heath giggled. “If that’s th’ case, you tell Pip he’s head honcho, I’ll handle the dick.”

“‘Course you will,” Orianna muttered playfully.

“What was that?”

“What? I can’t hear you over da sound of all these assholes partyin’! I’ll catch ya later, boss!”

Both of them laughed as they parted ways, with Orianna heading back the way she came and Heath to his office.

Once inside and away from the bustle of the game rooms, Heath sank into a purple leather chair and pulled out an address book. He thumbed through a couple pages, then let out an ‘ah-hah’ when he found the name he was looking for.

He picked up a white rotary phone and dialed the number under the name, the fingers of one hand tangling in the cord connecting the receiver and base. The dial up tone ceased after a couple moments.

“Hello hello! This is Alice, your operator. How may I help you?”

“Alice, doll, it’s great t’ hear from ya,” Sixer said warmly. “I hope you lot are enjoyin’ yer new gear down at th’ station.”

“We’ve never had smoother calls, sir,” Alice cooed. “Thank you. Is there something I could help you with?”

“Yeah, could you be a dear an’ get me Mike Phone?” he requested. “He runs that detective agency by th’ Bleed?”

“Of course, sir. Have a good night.”

“Likewise, sweetheart,” Heath purred. “Don’t stay up too late now.”

The call then transferred over a couple moments later. A masculine voice with a built in crackle spoke up.

“You’ve reached Transducer Detective Agency, Michael R. Phone speaking.”

“Hi-de-ho, Mike,” Heath greeted him through the phone, grinning wide.

“I’ve got a job for ya.”

#cuphead #harvest hand #court verse #mugman #king dice #pirouletta #rudy #irv #sixer #orie #misgendering tw

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peachyteabuck · 6 years

Text

the fifth date

summary: the story of how you met your alpha

pairing: alpha!bucky x omega!reader. non-avenger!au

words: 1870

trigger warnings: some mentions of a divorce, shitty childhood/boyfriend, etc. they watch ahs and there’s some mention of murder bc of it but it’s not super descriptive, mentions of some nsfw stuff

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The minute Bucky met you on your first date, he knew you were the one. It was a blind one, set up by your mutual friend.

Bucky thought he was just an excuse to get him out of the house, but no. It ended being the best thing that ever happened him.

The way you laughed, the way you bit your lip, the way you asked him about his day, the way you crinkled your eyes when you smiled. You were perfect, still are. The perfect mate, the perfect life partner, the perfect lover.

The next day, he started nesting in preparation.

“Stevie, I swear. I know she’s the one!” he told his best friend while buying almost a truckload of blankets and pillows at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

“Whatever you say, Buck” Steve told him as he struggled to close the trunk of the car.

When they reached his apartment and piled all the plastic-covered bedding in the living room, he shooed Steve out. He’s an alpha, this is his job and his alone.

When he mother told him about the process of courting his father, he knew it was something special. The process of nesting, the buying and making and killing of gifts, the scenting the first time they mated. It’s such a beautiful, sacred ritual, Bucky knew he had to do it perfectly for you.

“Whoever you choose,” She told him. “Know that it isn’t just about making you feel good, it’s about building a strong foundation to a lifelong commitment.”

Bucky always listened to his mother, but this he held especially near to his heart.

On your second date, Bucky brought you cupcakes from your favorite bakery. You ate them together on your couch and introduced Bucky to your favorite TV shows.

You had a really hard day at work, and when you tried to cancel the fancy dinner date Bucky had planned for you, he refused.

If you wanted to sit a home in fuzzy socks, leggings, and a comfortable sweatshirt, then that’s what you were gonna do. The only condition is that you had to do it with Bucky.

“I feel like this is a shitty second date,” you told him while liking some stray frosting off of your finger.Your legs were draped over his, your back supported by a few pillows. All Bucky wanted to do was lay there, inhaling your scent. But you needed something to keep your mind off of one of the worst days of your career, and reruns of Dr. Phil sure as hell weren’t gonna do it.

“Nonsense,” he said, wiping a smudge of cupcake from the side of your mouth. Heat rushed to your face at the intimate contact. “This is the perfect second date.”

You laughed a little, eyes glued to the screen across the room. “And why is that?”

Bucky smiled down at you, using his metal hand to turn your face to him. He knew what you were doing, trying to avoid eye contact because you were scared of...well, actually, you weren’t sure what you were scared of. All you knew was that you were absolutely petrified. “Because I get to spend time with you.”

All you could do hide the warm feeling in your face, you and him laughing at the woman who had hidden not one, but two pregnancies from her overbearing in-laws. You fell asleep soon after, with you head on Bucky’s lap. He readjusted you so that you were on top of him, and rubbed your back while you slept off the day.

On your third date, Bucky basically asks you to mate with him. Kind of. Maybe.

“Do you wanna come back to my place?” he asked on your way home from dancing. That’s when you realized you had never seen it. Ever. You’d heard stories, heard him talk about his home. His large bachelor bad which he kept impeccably decorated for work. You were dying to see it, but you worried it was too early. He fell asleep at your apartment three days ago, why did you care so much about traditional timing.

“Mmm,” you say, genuinely thinking it over. “Depends on what you want to do after.”

He grabbed your hips, pulling your close to him on the street corner. It was surprising, but not unwelcome. The night air nipped at your sweaty, exposed skin and made you shiver. You leaned into him, watching the traffic go by.

“Anything you want, darling” he whispered into your ear. This, too, sent goosebumps all over your body.

You pushed him away. Lightly, playfully. A shove to let him know he needed to wait a little longer. Not a “never,” but a “not yet.”

Instead, you find some fast food place and eat your weight in french fries while you fight about the best tropical fruit. Bucky had argued pineapple, you chose mango.

At first is was friendly competition, but then it got heated. Now you were playing to win.

“I’ll kiss you if you agree with me,” You offered, munching in the last fry.

“Deal,” Bucky said, leaning over the couch for his smooch. It was your first kiss, but it felt like you had known his lips forever. It was beautifully and wonderfully cliche.

The day of your fourth date, you fell ill with a nasty cold. Your throat felt like a broken garbage disposal, your nose was running, your stomach hurt. You felt like the word “ugh.”

First you called out of work. Then you texted Bucky in an effort to cancel your date.

But, yet again, he wouldn’t let you. He texted back he’d be at your place with the perfect care package and that he was determined to take care of you.

You texted back he was being dramatic - it’s a cold, not pneumonia - and fell back asleep.

He showed up less than an hour later, knocking on your door with soup, Gatorade, ginger ale, and every season of American Horror Story.

Three pieces of toast and half the soup later, you’re cuddled under a thin blanket - the same one as last time, soaking up his warmth and comforting smell.

Occasionally, you’d use the cold of his metal arm to cool your forehead down. You weren’t running a big fever, you maybe were at 99 degrees, but it still felt really good.

“This is nice,” you murmured.

“Yeah.” he agreed, noticing your sleepiness. He turned the show down just as someone was being gutted, wanting to make sure you were able to get the rest you needed. You were cuddled in his chest, surrounded by him.

You felt safe with him wrapped around you, just like a good alpha should make you feel. After a short nap and two more characters brutally murdered, you start having deep conversations.

It started with him asking you met Steve and how you trusted him enough to set you up with his greasy, but adorable, best friend.

Bucky talked about how he lost his arm, how his prosthetic is one of kind. How he’s a lab rat, how it was the the only thing that got him out of losing his arm.

You talk about your childhood and how shitty it was. How you ended up with a shitty boyfriend in college who made you feel like shit all of time before you got up the courage to leave him two years after he asked you out.

“My old boyfriend never did this type of stuff with me.” you admitted. “He only liked to do stuff when he knew people he knew would be around. It’s like he needed someone else to get him through our dates.”

“Sounds like a real dick,” Bucky said. He traced the indents the blankets on your skin. He could stay right here forever, never moving again.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He was. Almost made me swear off alphas forever.”

Bucky smiles, wide and toothy. “Glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you joke. “Or else I wouldn’t have met the total hunk I’m cheating on you with…”

Bucky laughs, him lighting pushing you away in faux-disgust. “How could you!? Is it Steve, tell me it’s not Steve!”

It’s your turn to laugh, the deep cackles soon turning into coughs. You recover quickly, though, smile plastered on your face. This one’s a keeper.

You have your fifth date a few weeks after you feel better, both of your crazy work schedules preventing you from seeing each other sooner.

He takes you to an aquarium, and you both watch the sea turtles gliding through the water. It’s so beautiful, you’re both breathless from wonder.

After, he takes you to home. To his home, you mean. Or apartment. It doesn’t matter. It’s his.

He offers you a drink, which you gladly take. While he makes it, you take a look around. You admire the art, the beautiful decorating, the gorgeous marble countertops.

He gives you a tour, showing you around the kitchen, then the living room, then his office, then he bedroom.

The minute you step into it, you almost start crying. The large bed, the thick blankets, the distinct scent, the displaced furniture showing he had shoved his bed into the corner farthest from the door. All the signs were there.

“You started nesting,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. The space is filled with Bucky, and it instantly makes you feel at peace, just like a good mate should. You feel so calm and happy and...is this what if feels like? To be in love? If so, you never want to let Bucky out of your sight. Ever.

“Yeah,” Bucky comes behind you, holding your back to his chest. “Knew we were gonna be mates the moment I first saw you, the night of our first date. Knew I wanted to be with you forever, and ever. Wanted to mark you. Wanted to be yours. Wanted to knot you real good. Wanted to make sure not a single shitty alpha ever touched you again.”

His brings his arms around you waist, talking lowly into your ear. “Then I heard about your awful boyfriend. About your parents bitter divorce. The custody battle. Knew you needed some lovin’, needed someone to show you how beautiful you are.”

He’s releasing calming pheromones, you can tell. It runs through you, sticks in your blood. The last few weeks have been hard, on both of you. This, whatever this is, is exactly what you need.

The pheromones release your tense muscles and give you a moment to forget the shittiness of everything.

He kisses your neck and you whimper. You got to grip his hips behind you and he rubs between your thighs.

“Eager, are we?” Bucky asks, his baritone voice sends shockwaves through your spine. It’s amazing, like a drug.

“Yes,” you moan. Your skin is on fire and it feels so fucking good.

He sets you down on the bed, pulling your clothes off. Your body is flush against the pillows and you feel so exposed. Normally, you’d be uncomfortable, but you trust Bucky. Trust him a lot. Trust him with everything.

“Then let’s get started, my beautiful little omega.”

You moan again. “Let’s, wonderful alpha. Let’s.”

#bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #Sebastian stan #barnes #marvel fanfic #lukis writes stuff #bucky barnes fanfiction

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kristallioness · 6 years

Text

Heaven on earth

Summary: Aang and Katara discover the beauty of an old pagoda in the Earth Kingdom, located in a sacred place for the air nomads.

Word count: 2,375

Author's note: This is 1/2 of the prompts that I submitted this year and which eventually got chosen (the other one didn't, again)! I wanted to submit this specific prompt because I already had an idea for it last year when someone first submitted it under the name "Sacred (Place)", but it didn't make the final cut. Now I can finally share what I had in mind and why I wanted to write it. The idea came to me when I watched the 4th episode of "Kaks Kanget Kagu-Aasias" ("The two tough ones in South-Eastern Asia"), which was an Estonian TV series running in spring 2017. The two tough ones, Kristjan Jõekalda and Teet Margna, are our own local, famous, very rich, funny and beloved Estonian TV hosts/entertainers. They've travelled through South-America (Ecuador, Peru, Argentina, Chile), Russia, India, the United States of America and their last journey took them across 4 countries in South-Eastern Asia, one of them being Myanmar. In Myanmar, they visited Bagan and introduced the Shwesandaw Pagoda, where Teet (being the braver one in the bunch) climbed to the top floor to have the most marvellous view of the sun setting. That breathtaking view and the entire landscape filled with so many beautiful temples was what inspired me to write this story with Aang and Katara. I could just imagine them exploring a similar place in their world. Set postwar, prior to "The Promise" trilogy.

----------x----------

"You sure you don't wanna come with us?" Aang asked for the nth time that evening. He was holding onto Katara's hand to help her climb up on Appa's saddle.

"Nah, it's just some old ruins. You guys go and have fun. It'll give me a break from your constant oogies," Sokka said as he dumped the pile of firewood in front of him, with Momo leaping closer to sniff whether he'd brought something edible along with him, too.

"Ugh.." Katara merely groaned and rolled her eyes as she hopped to the front of the saddle. Aang airbended himself on Appa's head and grabbed the reins.

"Okay. See you later, Sokka!" he exclaimed cheerfully, waving to both him and his pet winged lemur, who stayed behind to keep the warrior company.

"Appa, yip-yip!"

The sky bison growled and took off from their campsite. The main trio of Team Avatar were camping near the Northern Earth Kingdom while helping the Fire Nation colonials move back to their homeland. After another small village had been cleared of the Fire Nation families, they had the rest of the day off.

"So, where is this place exactly?" Katara wondered as she leaned over the edge of the saddle, crossing her arms and supporting her chin on top.

"About a mile away from our camp. If we walked, it'd take us about an hour to get there. But thanks to Appa, we'll be there in a few minutes!" Aang stated in a chipper tone, glancing over his shoulder to grin at her. He scratched the sky bison's head to thank him for providing them with such a short, cosy ride to their destination. Appa released a long, low growl at the show of affection.

Katara looked down below. They were flying over a territory full of thick fir forests, the evening sun that still shined behind them casting shadows over the tall trees and the ground beneath. Soon she could spot a couple of foliage trees in between, the density in general slowly becoming more scarce.

"Look, there it is!" Aang shouted excitedly, pointing a finger straight towards the horizon. When they got closer and Katara lifted her head to look in front, she gasped at the sight.

"Wow!"

She saw hundreds of pyramid-shaped buildings spread across the vast landscape. Gravel roads wreathed with bushes and trees connected them to each other. Plots of neglected farmland filled the empty square spaces in between.

"There's so many of them..."

Katara crawled to the side of the saddle and peeked over the edge. She was amazed by this place to say the least. Aang tugged at the reins a little bit to let Appa fly in a more relaxed manner so they could enjoy the view.

"These are all temples, stupas, pagodas, sanctuaries and monasteries. About 2,200 to 2,500 are still standing, though there might be even less now because I'm not sure how much damage these old structures received during the war.." he explained, scratching the back of his head for a moment.

"But thousands of years ago, there used to be more than 10,000 of them. They were built and used by air nomads from different villages, who didn't live too far away from each other. These small villages began to merge and turn into bigger groups of air nomads living together, until they decided to reside in only one sacred temple, which later became the Northern Air Temple."

Katara thought that it made sense, since they were in this part of the Earth Kingdom that remained very close to the Northern Air Temple.

"These plains are called 'the sea of temples'."

"I can see why," she giggled since it did seem like there was no end to these ancient buildings. They were flying right in the middle of this earthly sea, surrounded by something from each cardinal point, no matter where they looked.

"Do you wanna see one of my favourite places in the world?"

Besides his tone, his enthusiasm reflected from that familiar shimmer in his grey eyes as Aang gazed at her. It must've been something special to him if she distinguished that certain look in his eyes. Katara chuckled, then returned his warm smile.

"Of course, sweetie. Show me."

She watched how Aang guided Appa down closer to the ground, changing their course towards one of the highest pagodas nearby. He knew exactly where they were going and why. A small cloud of dust and gravel formed around the sky bison's feet as he landed in front of the pagoda. The airbender grabbed his staff before he jumped off the sky bison's head and thanked him by scratching the fur behind his ear.

"Nice job, buddy! It's been a long day. Get some rest while Katara and I go exploring around this pagoda."

Appa grunted, laying his head on his front paws and closing his big brown eyes to take a short nap. In the meantime, Katara had slid down his tail. Having dusted her tunic, she walked over to her boyfriend.

"So, where to now?"

"We're gonna climb all the way up there!" Aang said, slowly pointing his finger up along the staircase that led to the fifth level of the pagoda. The building itself had five square-shaped floors where people could walk around on, with a cylindrical stupa in the center decorating the top.

He grabbed Katara's hand and laced their fingers together as they approached the bottom of the stairs. At first as they began climbing up, it was Aang who led the way, always being a step in front of her and maintaining a good grip on her hand.

Katara followed a step behind him. Each step was practically up to her knees, hence the climb progressed in a rather slow pace. She counted the number of steps it took for them to get to the first terrace. More than 11 of those steps later, halfway up to the second level, she tripped when her foot got caught behind one of them.

Katara yelped as she lost her balance and began falling backwards, but she didn't even manage to blink before she was already back upright and in Aang's embrace. He saved her by catching her just in time.

"Katara! Are you okay?"

Her heart dropped and her diamond blue eyes grew wide as she met his worried gaze. Luckily, Aang had reacted fast enough and tugged at her hand to pull her back up to his side. She'd landed a step higher right next to him. His free hand was wrapped around her shaky body to hold her steady now.

Katara glanced behind and saw a few pebbles making their way down the stairs, dropping to the wider platform on the first level a couple of steps below. She took a very deep, calming breath.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay.." she stammered, holding her hands close to her chest. She felt her heart beating fast after she had a slight scare.

"You have to be more careful. This climb is pretty steep," Aang reprimanded her a little bit. He frowned when he saw how scared she looked and gifted her with a kiss on the cheek, rubbing her arm to comfort her.

"C'mon, let's take these final steps together and then have a nice walk around the pagoda before we continue. Okay?"

"Mhmm.." she hummed and nodded in agreement, her gaze fixed right in front of her feet. After that, they began walking up side by side, literally. Aang declared each step they took out loud as they moved one step at a time. He held his arm tightly around her waist to prevent her from falling again, supporting his own weight on the tip of his staff.

"Just one more.." he said as they lifted their left feet in unison, followed by their right ones. They'd reached the second terrace.

"There we go.. Let's take a break, sweetie."

"Sounds good," Katara agreed, heaving a sigh of relief. She was still shook from the near tumble as she let Aang give her a tour around the pagoda.

She entwined their hands as they strolled along the line of stones that'd been piled up on the edges of the terraces to form protective barriers. She gently ran her free hand over the rough pieces of earth while listening to her boyfriend talk about the history behind these old structures. She hummed now and again, showing that she was paying attention.

The cracks in the stones and the crumbled parts in the barriers betrayed just how old the pagoda really was when she saw them up close. Katara didn't wanna damage these old ruins any more than they already were. She wanted them to preserve their original state.

As they reached the back of the pagoda, her fear seemed to have slowly faded away. She wore a loving smile on her lips as she gazed at the horizon, marvelling at all the other buildings that stretched out over miles while Aang pointed at some of them and told tidbits about their origin. At least the ones he knew something about.

By the time they came full circle and arrived back at the stairs, she'd practically forgotten about the small incident. She instinctively wrapped her arm around Aang's waist and kept close to his side as they continued climbing to the top, one step at a time.

Less than ten minutes later, they'd finally made it up to the highest terrace safe and sound. As soon as they took a few steps away from the stairs, Aang hopped in front of her and stopped them in their tracks.

"Close your eyes, and don't peek!"

Katara giggled and did as she was told. She felt how he gently grabbed her hands, slowly lifting them up to cover her face with them.

"You're not peeking, are you?"

"Mkmm.." she replied, shaking her head. Aang held onto her shoulders to help her move. She sensed how he turned her around and they treaded closer to the barrier.

"What are you doing?" Katara wondered, a hint of excitement in her tone.

"Trust me. I wanna show you something. Be careful with your steps, you might trip behind a rock!" he warned her again, trying to guide her through a path where there weren't any bumps. They stopped in front of the wall that reached up to their waists.

"Are your eyes still closed?"

"Mhmm."

Katara heard how Aang dropped his staff somewhere, after which he grabbed her hands and lowered them onto the grained stones in front of her. He checked whether she was peeking.

"Are you ready?"

She chuckled, a wide grin decorating her features when she nodded to him.

"Then open your eyes."

She gasped, her hands landing back on her mouth. They were facing towards the stunning sunset that fell upon the plains. Neither of them could see it from the second terrace down below since it wasn't high enough, and she hadn't noticed it behind her back while they were busy climbing to where they were now.

"Aang.. this is beautiful!" was all she could muster as she clapped her hands together. He took a step closer and snaked an arm around her middle, pulling her by his side.

"I know. That's why I wanted you to come here. The sunsets in this place are some of the most beautiful ones in the entire world."

He was right. Katara leaned forward to place her elbows on the barrier, supporting her chin in the palms of her hands. Aang followed her example as he supported himself against the rocky wall.

They simply stood there in silence, enjoying the sunset, admiring how the shadows of the temples fell to the ground and onto the flora surrounding them. Katara felt enchanted by this gorgeous scenery. She averted her gaze back towards Aang when she heard him sniff. She noticed that he looked a bit sad. He wasn't crying, but it was evident that he was trying really hard to hold himself back.

"This.. this reminds you of home, doesn't it?"

He didn't look at her. He blinked and rubbed his right cheek with the back of his hand, the side of his face that she couldn't see from that angle. She guessed that he was crying. He nodded to her.

"Mhmm.."

Katara didn't say another word. She grabbed his free hand and gave it a squeeze. Aang stared at their entwined hands, then squeezed his eyes shut and softly bumped his temple against hers.

She felt how something wet trickled against her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Aang was crying a little. He sniffed and wiped his cheek dry by rubbing it against hers this time. She returned the gesture by fondly rubbing their noses together as well. She wrapped her other arm around him and hugged him as tight as she could.

"Thank you, Katara," he murmured, then kissed her cheek. She hummed in delight.

"No, thank you, Aang.. for bringing me here."

Katara loved it when he shared bits and pieces of his culture with her. It was something that she felt was unique in their relationship, something that nobody else could be apart of. She wouldn't have wanted this lovely evening to go any other way.

When Aang opened his grey eyes and met her loving gaze, she cupped his chin and ran her thumb across his lips, making him smile. She pressed a tender kiss there, releasing a short giggle afterwards. He rubbed at his cheeks to dry the last of his tears as they finished watching how the sun fell behind the mountain range in the horizon.

"So, how are we gonna get back down? Would you like to climb down or glide down?" Aang asked, scratching the back of his head. Katara already knew the answer to that question.

She giggled and pulled him beside her, gripping his waist firmly. Aang grabbed his staff and opened it into a glider, giving them a boost with his airbending to hop into the air. They glided back down to Appa so they could head back to their campsite and regale Sokka with stories about their adventures in the sea of temples.

#Kataang Week #sacred #Kataangtag #Kataang #the original Gaang #Team Avatar #Aang #Katara #Sokka #Appa #Momo #ATLA #my fanfiction #mine #shards of Kristal

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jelanisaeed · 5 years

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Starborn Truths: Chapter 2 - Magical Truths

Starborn Truths

Chapter 2: Magical Truths

Afternoons in Ambrose Towns always shocked Bakari. How its radiance fueled the spirits of its citizen and caressed their soul-stones. He never truly understood it. But their excitement never failed to coil his senses and tickle his magic. Though, he expected no less from the heart of Barikioo’s trading network.

Ambrose Town attracted sellers from the five kingdoms. And they filled the streets with exclusive wares and tips of the trade. An art which thrived on these sacred lands. Loony Lytton told him Lady Tushara—Kiinbi of Trade—blessed the town with greats magic and gifts. And Bakari believed it. Though, hard not to when his soul-stone moaned upon arrival, soaking in the bursting magic.

“Potent fairy veins here, Mystro,” he smiled, stroking his steed’s mane. “Makes for an easy mission.”

Mystro responded with a rumbling neigh. Bakari loved riding him into towns. Especially on a freshly shoveled, dirt road. The peaceful breeze cooled his nerves and set his spirit at ease. Of course, the residents helped with their awe-filled regard. And he loved every second of it. Even indulgenced them with brilliant smile. Regardless of Mystro’s disapproving snort, he couldn’t help it!

Feels great to be loved.

Well, so long as no one touched Mystro.

Of course, there was always that one who ignored the memo. One merchant—a wiry, ashy old man covered in liver spots and rags—came far too close. And even had the audacity to drag those spidery fingers on Mystro! Dangling just underneath his saddle packs.

“Listen boy, I have perfect ware for you,” the sleazebag crackled worse than a chocking rat. Exposing sharpened canines and rotten teeth. “An amulet perfect for absorbing ambient mana. Whaddya say, boy? Tempted? Could be yours for thirty tevenis.”

Merchants thought they were so slick. That no one noticed them oozing that thick honey into their voice until their words stuck to the skin. Prickling the body until they wedged their way inside.

Magic of suggestion. Subtle magic all sellers born in trading centers possessed. And merchants deployed them with ease, slicking their voices with gallons of it as they gestured to their horde. Even the most novice of mages utilized this type of subtle magic. And it worked wonders on lesser humans.

On a mage like Bakari, well… quite a shame, he’d say. “Back off, sleazebag,” he scowled. “Ain’t interested in nothing yer sellin’, got it?”

But the man persisted. The sweet honey ensnared his senses, but the warmth of his soul-stone purged him of the impurities. “C’mon boy, could be useful for your travels. Oh, I know,” Sleazebag ruffled through his rags and yanked out the oddest orb he ever saw. “This magic orb. Legends say it leads the way to great treasure. I’ll throw in both for only forty tevenis!”

So…strange. Bakari couldn’t understand why it looked like a mutated, sickly green seed with strange, petal-like patterns limping across its body. Or why its magical vibrations pulsed so weak.

Sickly magic, he frowned. He never knew magical orbs lost their power over time. And he’s seen his fair share with the Bloody Castors. Granted they all had splashes of vibrant colors and dazzling designs. Nothing lackluster like this one.

“I’m fine,” Mystro started on his path, whipping his tail at the man’s face. “Later sleazebag.”

No distractions, he recited, Tyrell’s words flooding his thoughts. I hafta stay on task.

Still, that orb irked him. With its sickly glow and flickering magic. A haunting melody his soul-stone loathed and squirmed away from. Yet, something pulled him back. Called out him with greasy words and harsh tones. Despite his intuition, he glanced over his shoulder. And that geezer flashed him a creepy, decaying grin. Bakari shuddered.

Strange or not, he couldn’t concede to his feelings. Not when Master Knox granted him this mission.

Perhaps, it’s nothin’, he sighed. After all, hustlers and suckers came in all ages. No sense in spending his hard-earned treveni!

Nonetheless, he needed to stay on mission. Even if Tyrell ain’t send me nothing, he sighed, checking his commlink for the umpteenth time. That man was never reliable when it came to consistent communication. Maybe he be better in other areas, Bakari chuckled. Still, the mission came first. He could have his fun after meeting with Grampa Morris.

Hope he alright, Bakari sighed. It wasn’t like Grampa Morris to ignore his letters. No matter how anti-social he grew with each day.

“Yo! Bakari!” A familiar voice rattled through his ears. A young merchant—perhaps one of the youngest around! —raced over, flailing his arms. A handsome guy with rich carob skin, a short afro with blond tips and a fade, brilliant green eyes, and dressed in a bright parka and bottoms. A true oddity wit those bright green freckles across his nose. Bakari reeled Mystro to a stop, hopped off and greeted the teen. “It’s been ages, stranger! What? I don’t get visits out here?”

“Really, Dumaka?” Bakari rolled his eyes with a smirk. “It been a few months max.”

Dumaka, of all people, couldn’t talk about not seeing someone. Not when his massive family travelled across the continent of Philos! Merchants, the lot of them. And that cut down any quality time when Bakari came to visit.

Dumaka flashed him a fish-eating smirk. “Few months too many! I missed you, bro!” A blush dusted Duma’s handsome feature and Bakari rolled his eyes. Right on que—followed by him rubbing the back of his head and averting his gaze. “And our time together too, Baka.”

“Duma,” he began with a sigh. “Ain’t gon happen. Ya know that.”

For mere moments, the truth deflated Duma before he popped back up with renewed vigor. “Yeah, yeah—I hear ya.” Duma grinned and pulled a small box out of his green and purple patterned parka. “Found this with the fam—might be useful to ya. It’s great seeing you again. Oh, and nice ‘fit.”

Bakari accepted the gift with a grin. He liked to think of himself as a fashion person, sporting patterns of silver and gold with his blue bottoms, heavy boots. Finished off his favorite silver belt stocked with medicine and his personal hunting knife.

“By the way, my aunt ain’t around. Wanna come by the booth?”

Bakari laughed. Only Duma could refer to that massive house as a booth! The perks of living in Ambrose Town, gave Duma’s family the chance to use their home as their selling space. Decked out with stunning lights, free food, and amazing artifacts. And, of course, a dose of magic didn’t hurt.

Did he mention the food?

Still, no aunt around meant Bakari could rest easy.

Beep. Beep. Or not. Bakari sighed. Of course, Tyrell chose now to give him an update. Honestly, that man and his timing. Maybe I can fix that.

“Maybe later. Got a mission, ya know.”

The magic phrase. Duma’s eyes sparkled with wonder as he tried and failed to peek at Bakari’s commlink. As it should be. Duma had his travels, but Bakari had mission. The perfect counterbalance for their crazy lives.

“Aye Huntsman!” Bakari glared him. “What’s the business? Gotta catch another stray?”

Bakari chuckled. “Nah, following up on Grampa Morris’s lead. Something ‘bout a mythical treasure.”

Duma’s excitement fizzled away as worry flickered through his eyes. “Grampa Morris,” he frowned, folding his arms. But Bakari caught his fingers squeezing a tad too tight. “Haven’t heard from him lately. Think he okay? Did he see something?”

Hmm, so it wasn’t only him Grampa Morris ignored. Odd—Has Malik been ignored too? Something wasn’t right here and Bakari knew he had to find out.

“He hasn’t responded to my letters.” Bakari patted Duma’s shoulders and forced a smile. Usually, Duma acted as the light in the darkness. Smiling and changing the mood of those around him. But a good friend picked up the slack when others couldn’t.

“But I’m sure he fine. With his gift, he ain’t gon fall easy, ya know.”

Retired bandit yes, but Grampa Morris still possessed the gift of precognition. A soothsayer with a talent in the mystic arts. Grampa Morris taught Bakari much about his magic and even come combat techniques. Someone as skilled as him didn’t submit to just anyone. No matter how old they got!

Still, he worried for him. Malik wasn’t always around, and Aida only did so much.

“He probably in a mood—you know how he gets.”

“Yes, he does,” a gravelly voice whisked through the air and Bakari flinched. Careless, he chastised himself. With his magic, he should’ve sensed her arrival before she reached earshot. Dear kiinbies, please ensure she hadn’t heard enough of their conversation.

The tall woman stalked over with folded arms and a scowl. Her sandy brown skin decorated in the same hereditary freckles as Duma. Even dressed in the same color pattern with added hoops and bangles. Her menacing forest green eyes glared down at him, foretelling stories of dangerous secrets, twists, and power.

“Hello Bakari, it’s been awhile. One might think you’re avoiding me.”

“That’s ‘cause I am, Anita.” Bakari rolled his eyes. “I ain’t got no reason to see you.”

Anita laughed. An empty, mocking laugh that boiled his anger. “Quite true, boy,” she eyed a bit lower and Bakari grabbed his necklace. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me, Huntsman?”

“It was a gift,” he scowled, tucking it away underneath his clothes. “And watch the name-drop, Porta.”

A mage like her knew better. For any mage to reveal another’s danuko without permission or just cause broke numerous mage code laws! Laws established by the Divine Nine Mage Guilds to preserve the security and safety of mages worldwide. She took an oath to uphold and protect these rights as a Light Core Mage.

Then again, how could he trust the loyalty of a Light Core Mage?

“C’mon now, don’t fight.” Duma interrupted with a nervous smile. “Auntie, I thought you were outta town this week?”

Only Duma soothed the harsh tension. One of his many gifts. Just a flash of that pearly smile doused the rage rumbling within. Bakari sighed and ran a hand through his dreads. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to fight. Not when he had his mission to finish.

Anita only smirked and punched her nephew’s cheeks. “Change of plans,” she sighed, tousling her short braids. “Reports of a magical treasure have surfaced in town. Light Core needs me out here for now.”

Figures. It was only a matter of time before Light Core got involved. Still, he had hoped for more time. As one of the few mage guilds left in Philos, they received any and all information about magic. A necessary since they housed powerful mages who helped secure the safety of Philosians.

Bakari had a few run-ins with those mages, but no proven encounters. The perks of being a world-class archer and sniper.

His commlink vibrated. Perfect, another message from Tyrell. Not they both had news to report. Though he hated to think about Tyrell’s reaction to all this.

“That means I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Bakari.”

An eye on him? Bakari scoffed. “Save yer efforts, sand-brain. You’ll need it for yer mission.” He spared her a nod and climbed onto Mystro. For his credit, Mystro turned up his snout at Anita and whipped his tail in her direction. “Talk to you later, Duma. We can chill then.”

Bakari waited until they were out of earshot to call Tyrell. The holographic screenshot captured the strongman’s heavy scowl perfectly.

“Tyrell, we got a problem.”

#Philos Universe #Philos #LGBT #Starborn Truths

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