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buckybabybaby · 4 years

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Not So Bad

A/n: this is my one shot for @firefly-in-darkness's summer challenge. It's a couple of days late, I'm so sorry!! I wrote most of this in one go on Friday, which is the most I've written in months, so hopefully I can keep that up.

Proof read by way of a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 1998

Warnings: none :)

Plot: stuck on a beach awaiting pick-up after a mission, you and Bucky have an interesting conversation. (Enemies to friends (to implied maybe lovers later))

Masterlist

*****

The steady lapping of the waves washing up onto the sand below is the only sound breaking the silence between you and Bucky. Seated at opposite ends of the last bench on the promenade, you are seriously considering typing up your notice the minute you get back home and walking away from The Avengers if this is the way you're going to be treated. Not only have you had to spend the last two weeks acting all lovey-dovey with Bucky for the sake of a mission, but now it's over you're stuck on a beach with him as you wait for a pick up. Because, apparently, a domestic flight back home would be too risky.

A light flickering in the distance catches your attention, and you raise your head to watch as the illuminations strung along the closest pier are extinguished one by one, until only the hazard warning at the very end remains lit, plunging the beach further into darkness.

“That'll be midnight then.”

It shouldn't, but Bucky's voice coming from beside you for the first time in hours makes you jump. Sitting up straighter, you attempt to hide your shock as you ask, “What will be?”

“The lights. The pier closes at midnight. I guess it's just you and me now.”

Looking away, you roll your eyes; this mission hasn't been easy for you, and you've had to hold yourself back from repeating that action many times during the last fortnight. Normally working with world-saving heroes is the dream job, but normally you're not sent out undercover with the formal Winter Soldier, forced to act like a honeymooning couple to infiltrate a people smuggling ring operating out of an exclusive Floridian beach resort. Though it wasn't hard to get people to talk and the mission was a success, you feel little joy in the outcome.

The reason is currently huffing next to you.

“Stop that!”

Bucky looks across at you, raising his eyebrows at your outburst. “Stop what?”

“Breathing so heavily!”

“Oh, you want me to stop breathing?”

“I wouldn't complain.”

“That'll be a first.”

Refusing to rise to the bait, you turn back to staring out to sea. How you survived pretending to be married to this man for fourteen long days, you may never know. Maybe you were an actor in another life, because every time you're alone with him it usually leads to petty squabbling, but you somehow managed to fool multiple people into believing that he was your 'amazing husband' who you were madly in love with.

To be fair to Bucky, he was very good at pretending too. The little glances and touches that made it convincing, the way he memorised your back story perfectly and never slipped up when questioned, how he succeeded to completely hide his disdain for you the whole time, it was all truly impressive. Even in private he didn't drop the act, on the slim chance of being caught out, leaving you flustered and confused.

Hence why you're sitting as far away as possible on this weather beaten bench.

As soon as the all clear had been given that you could go home, you couldn't get out of there fast enough, desperate to sleep in your own bed alone and not share one with the furnace in human form that is Bucky. Apart from the comment about the pier, he's been completely silent as you waited for the rescue boat to arrive, a jarring contrast to earlier in the day as you checked out of the hotel.

You don't like the way you miss his gentle hold and soft words. A fortnight living together has warped your emotions beyond recognition, and the return to normal life is most welcome.

From somewhere deep in the pile of luggage on the beach your phone buzzes twice, and you jump up to grab it, groaning in frustration at the message it contains.

Bucky senses the cause. “Delayed?”

“Hmm.”

“Cool.”

He says it so casually and it's like you snap. It's been ages since the two of you have been alone without the threat of eavesdroppers, all that pent up tension exploding in a mini rant.

“Well it might be cool for you, but excuse me for being annoyed. Not everyone wants to be stuck on a beach in the middle of the night.”

He shrugs, unaffected. “You kept saying you wanted to go to the beach.”

“Yeah, but not at midnight! And certainly not with you!”

“Wow, ouch.”

The genuine hurt on his face surprises you. He has always given as good as he gets, never seeming fazed by the verbal abuse you throw his way. “What, Bucky? Don't act like we get along. You hate me!”

If anything, the look of hurt deepens at your words. “Hate? I don't hate you.” He rises to stand with you on the sand. “Y/N? Is that what you think?”

You can't keep eye contact. “Why would I think anything else? We can't spend ten minutes together without arguing.”

“It's just friendly bickering.”

“Friendly?” Scoffing loudly, you walk back up to the bench, flopping down in a slouched position and resigning yourself to the wait. “If that's your idea of friendly I worry about your actual friends.”

Bucky's stood frozen where you left him but you pay him no mind. As the clouds clear above and the stars become visible, the temperature starts to drop. Shivering, you curl into a ball on the seat, too lazy to search through your suitcase for warmer clothes.

“Here.”

Blinking, you're met with Bucky's outstretched hand and the offering of his coat.

“What.” You say flatly.

“So you don't freeze,” He explains, shaking the jacket a little in your face.

You snort at his act of chivalry. “Oh, please. It's okay, the shows over. You don't need to pretend any more, we haven't got an audience here.”

He visibly holds his tongue. “Will you just take it? Stop being so stubborn.”

“Well, what about you? Don't you need it?”

“Super soldier, doll. We tend to run hotter.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” You mutter under your breath, not quietly enough.

“Oh, you did? Must have kept you nice and warm huh?”

The smirk you know so well is back and you fight your smile at the familiar tone in his voice.

“More like sleeping with a damn heater. You're lucky I didn't kick you out every night.”

“As if you could.”

“You know I could.”

He nods in agreement, remembering all the times you've beaten him in combat training. “Suppose you could've. But you didn't. That's something.”

Placing the jacket over your shoulder when you sit up, Bucky pulls it round to the front to fasten the top button, allowing you to do the rest yourself as he takes his place back on the bench. You are much closer now as you chose to sit in the middle of the seat, but you stay put as it feels rude to move away when he's been so nice.

The air is once again full of only the sounds of nature. It was true you had wanted to visit the beach during this mission, the long stretches of white sand calling your name from the hotels bedroom window, but you hadn't got the chance as the suspects you were tailing stayed around the bar and pool. As you breathe in the salty air, you decide the pain of the last fortnight was worth it for this moment, even in the middle of the night and without the longed for ice cream.

Glancing over to Bucky's relaxed form, you study his profile. Whilst you've seen it a lot recently, it still shocks you how defined his face is and the way his hair always seems to fall perfectly, no matter the time of day or weather. Even his early morning bed-hair could be classed as a tousled style others would take hours to achieve, and you can't believe you've never noticed how attractive he is. And it's not just his looks, if the way he acted his role is anything to go by. This mission has taught you one thing; who ever Bucky does end up marrying will be the luckiest person in the world.

You think of your previous conversation, still lost. Since your first meeting it's been the same, sharp tongues flinging insults at each other whenever you meet, and the others in the tower have learnt to avoid the two of you when you get going. Does Bucky really think that that's all been in jest?

Eventually, the curiosity gets the better of you. “Do you really not hate me?”

He takes a few seconds to reply, not looking at you as he says quietly, “No, of course not.”

“Okay.” You don't bring up your regular fights as evidence to the contrary, instead asking, “And you actually enjoy my company?”

“Why do you think I volunteered for this?”

“Volun-what?” That really wasn't what you expected when you started on these questions. You stare at him wide-eyed with disbelief, sure you've misunderstood. “I thought we were assigned? I definitely didn't choose to be here.”

“You were assigned. They thought you'd blend in well with the crowds here, they just needed someone to be your husband and... Here we are.”

“Huh.” You blow out a breath, overwhelmed.

“I thought it would be a way to spend time together without the usual spats.”

“That's an extreme way to spend time with someone.”

He sighs. “I know.”

“But why? With me?”

“'Cause you're fun to be with?”

“Are you telling me or asking?”

“Telling. I want to be better, nicer to you, but any time we're together, you get all defensive, and I can't help returning the sentiment.”

“So, it's my fault?”

“That's not-” He cuts himself off, stopping the argument before it can begin. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry.” You smile at him for the first time. “You're going to have to give me a while to get used to this. I'm finding it kinda hard to believe you don't actually hate my guts.”

His own smile drops. “I'm so sorry.” Dragging a hand through his hair, he gazes at you intensely. “This is... I honestly had no idea you thought our arguments were serious. I thought-” He swallows, a self conscious grin tugging at his mouth. “Is it awful that I thought we were flirting?”

Your cheeks heat up, but you shake your head to reassure him. Thinking back, you can see why he believed that. There is a fine line between hate and love, and it makes sense now why you sought him out so often, why you gravitated to him even when it would be so easy to avoid contact, and why, if you're being honest with yourself, you didn't despise the last two weeks at all.

“So, where do we go from here?”

“First, we go home.” He gestures to the vessel you hadn't noticed bobbing in the surf, waving at the captain as the speed boat is launched to retrieve you and your belongings. “And then? Whatever you want.”

“Can we start just being proper friends?”

He reaches for your hand to help you up. “I'd like that.”

Stretching, you follow him across the beach in the gloom. Picking up your holdall and rucksack on the way, you dump them into the bottom of the boat and climb in, sitting close together on the narrow bench. The crew shout at each other over the engines roar once you're both safely on the yacht, but you tune them out, choosing to stay on deck and admire the lights along the coast. Bucky joins you after you tire of his hesitation and tug him down into the seat to you.

As the boat starts the journey back north he glances at you through the spray of salt water, the small smile you share feels so much bigger, and your letter of resignation couldn't be further from your mind.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybabybaby

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softbiker · 5 years

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Born to Run - Chapter 11

Warnings: cursing, being arrested

Word count: 2k

A/N: A week late (plus like an hour or so) and I finally have an update for y’all. So sorry about the delays lately! Work has been....a lot. So has life. Anyways, let me know what you think!

“Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am?” He waved his hand in front of her face. “I need you to stay with me here, okay?”

Y/N’s eyes drifted back towards the officer. His dark eyebrows were drawn together in concern. Her fingers gripped the edges of the blanket that had been placed around her shoulders, and she gave him a little nod.

“So, tell me again, what was your connection to this man?”

“He was a patient, I have no connection with him.”

“No personal affiliation at all?”

“No. He was just a patient.”

“What about the other man, Barnes?”

“What about him?”

“What is the nature of your relationship with him?”

“We’re...friends, I guess.” She thought about his kiss, the intensity of his lips on hers, the tightness of his arms around her.

“Just friends?” The officer raised a doubtful brow.

“Yes.”

“You’ve been seen around town with him quite a bit,” he went on, rocking back on his heels as he considered her. “On a daily basis, in fact. Rides to and from work on his motorcycle, driving to the store, to restaurants.”

“So?”

“So, he’s not your personal driver. Or an Uber.” The officer slid his hands into his pockets. “And you own a perfectly drivable car. So, there’s no reason for a man who you claim is just a friend to be driving you everywhere, unless the two of you are in some kind of...special relationship.”

Her eyebrows lowered and she pulled a deep breath in through her nose. It had been over an hour of this, sitting in the parking lot of her clinic and watching them drag Bucky away, the sun slipping behind the horizon as they covered Rumlow’s body and peppered her with questions. An EMT had checked her over and confirmed that she had no serious injuries, and then the cops had swooped in. Her mouth went dry as she repeated her story backwards and forwards, rehashing little details and racking her brain for things she might have missed. The back of her throat ached. Her ass had gone numb from leaning against the cold metal of the squad car. She really wanted to lie down. And to see Bucky. If she had to hear one more false accusation against herself or Bucky, her head might explode.

“Look. I haven’t committed a crime. And as I’ve told you, neither did Mr. Barnes - he acted in self-defense -” The man opened his mouth but she held up a finger to cut him off. “So unless you plan to arrest me as well, I suggest you either take me home or let me speak to a lawyer. I know my rights.”

He rolled his eyes but took a step back, waving over one of his colleagues. The other officer - younger, greener, with dark curls creeping up in his regulation haircut - hustled towards them, licking his lip and cutting his eyes between Y/N and her interviewer.

“Yeah, Sergeant?”

“C’mere, Valdez,” the sergeant beckoned with his fingers. His eyes cut sideways at Y/N, gesturing at her with a flick of his head. “The doctor here is done answering questions without an attorney. Please escort her to her residence.”

Valdez nodded eagerly, taking a step forward. As he turned his face towards her, Y/N noticed the softness of his cheeks, a remnant of baby fat, cut by a small dimple in one cheek as he smiled at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he cleared his throat.

“If you’ll come with me, ma’am?” he gestured towards a different squad car, one sitting a few yards away with an easy route out of the parking lot. Between them and the car, a few more police going back over the scene, taking pictures and marking locations. She saw a dark stain on the ground and realized that Rumlow’s body had finally been moved.

With a sigh, she stood up, not sparing a glance at the sergeant, who stood by with his arms crossed. Valdez fell in beside her, matching strides as they crossed the lot, kicking rocks in front of their feet as they walked. He was thankfully silent, and kind; he skipped a half-step ahead of her to open the passenger side door, offering a polite smile as she climbed inside.

“So, where to?” he asked when he shuffled inside, buckling his seatbelt.

“Hm?” She hadn’t been paying attention.

“Where should I take you?”

...oh.

Good question. With her own home vandalized, she had more and more thought of the Avengers clubhouse as...well, a kind of home at least. She did want to go there, have a coffee or whiskey (or both) with Natasha, and settle down in her guest bed and be left alone. But...could she bring a cop to the clubhouse? Would that be alright? The location wasn’t a secret, but the Avengers had quite the reputation - enough to have Bucky arrested on sight. She bit her lip, curling and uncurling her fists in her lap, her gaze turned out the window.

“Where did they take Bucky?”

“Mr. Barnes?” She could hear the frown in his voice without looking. “I’m - I don’t think-”

“Listen,” she turned her gaze on him. “I want to see him. I’ll take care of myself from there. Just take me wherever they took him.”

“Well, I guess…”

“What’s your name?”

He cleared his throat again. “Aiden.”

“Okay. Aiden, he’s...he’s very important to me. He’s…” all I want “...the only real friend I have here. So I know it might not be protocol or whatever but, I need you to take me there. Take me to see him.”

He blew a harsh breath past his lips, shook his head. Put the car in gear.

“Okay, then. If you’re sure.”

**********

It wasn’t Bucky’s first time in cuffs.

That had been at age 15 - when he was running with a rougher crowd and thought he was hard, tough, a badass. And yeah, it felt real badass, the way his gut swooped with fear and his legs clenched up in the backseat of that cop car, picked up for vandalism or petty theft - couldn’t quite remember. Sure felt like a man when his voice squeaked over the phone to his mother, informing her where he was and why, hearing her heart break over the line. Yes, sir. He was a real hard man.

Still, the cuffs never got more comfortable. And neither did the questioning rooms; he arched and curled his back alternately, trying to work out the ache from the press of the metal chair against his spine. It didn’t help, but he managed to crack his neck. His eyelids felt heavy, and he slumped back in the chair again.

The officers had questioned him for quite a while when they got here, though the interview was unproductive on their side. Bucky refused to speak. He gave nothing away, not of himself or the Avengers, gave no comment on the death of Brock Rumlow. No matter the question, his answer was a sullen stare in the cops’ direction. Every so often, he would repeat his only requests: a bathroom, a phone call, and a lawyer. All denied.

He twisted his wrists again where they were cuffed to the table, red and chafing from the metal. Really could take a piss right about now, but they weren’t gonna let him anytime soon. He thought of Steve, watching him sprint out of the clubhouse and drive away; of Y/N, wild-eyed and screaming, as Rumlow smashed his head against the concrete. Steve would take care of her, he told himself. They all would.

Two minutes passed while he counted the seconds and tapped his fingers against the metal table. His throat felt dry and he tried to work his tongue and swallow his own saliva, but he was too parched. He leveled a glare at the mirror and the door - no reason for the officers to leave him in here this long. But his reputation had preceded him here. These cops knew him - or thought they knew him. He hadn’t been arrested since moving out to this little town, but apparently that didn’t matter.

He was just starting to think he’d have to pee his pants out of spite when the door banged open, slamming against the side wall.

“Well, Barnes you just couldn’t keep it in your pants, could ya?” Tony Stark strolled in, whipping his sunglasses off his face and slipping them into the front of his shirt.

“Tony,” Bucky sighed, shoulders falling. “Can you tell ‘em to get me out of these things? I’ve really gotta pee-”

“Oh, you need a potty break? That’s great. That’s good!” Stark rolled his eyes. “At least I know those Hydra skulls didn’t castrate you.”

“Stark, please? Bathroom now, yell later.”

When he returned and was re-cuffed, Stark slid into the chair across from him with a huff.

“So. You wanna tell me how this didn’t blow your cover and ruin the op?”

“Sure. I’m sitting in jail aren’t I?”

“We’re getting you released, obviously,” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Yeah, well, forgive me for making you sweat for a minute so you can understand that this is serious.” Tony’s jaw clenched under the salt and pepper goatee. “How do we reposition you to finish the job when you killed your target, exposed yourself to the police, and you’ve gotten involved in a personal relationship? Please, please, enlighten me.”

Bucky blew a breath past his lips.

“I know it looks pretty fucked right now, but listen.” He held up a finger. “The skulls just saw me shoot Rumlow and get arrested - and since he attacked first and threatened Y/N, it was in self-defense. Releasing me won’t reveal anything. They still don’t know-”

“That you’re an FBI agent?” Tony’s eyebrows went up, his arms crossed, wrinkling the shoulders of his suit. “Which I will have to explain to your buddies here in lockup, considering they’re convinced you’re a real criminal and they should hold you in despite the circumstances of Rumlow’s death.”

“I guess that’s what they pay you for, huh?” Bucky challenged, tilting his head as he considered the other man.

Tony’s eyes narrowed.

“Watch it, Barnes,” he warned. “I was never in favor of bringing you and Rogers into this.”

“Except you made no progress on your case for years,” Bucky shrugged.

“Don’t make me call Fury on this,” Tony threatened. A dark vein on his forehead pulsed under the harsh fluorescent lights. “I will pull your ass out of here. Tread lightly.”

The two men stared each other down across the two feet of table, daring the other to make the first move. Bucky noted the greying hairs at Tony’s temples, the lines in the skin around his mouth. There were circles under his eyes, but that was nothing new. His jaw moved back and forth as he ground his teeth quietly. Bucky lifted his hands in surrender - as far as the cuffs would allow.

“I’ll keep it under control,” he placated. “I can stay in the field. Finish this.”

“You’d better.” Tony pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb swiping at the notifications on his home screen. “Or it’s your head.”

The room was silent, save for the sound of Tony’s fingers tapping on the keyboard, his email swishing into the internet. Bucky licked his dry lips with an equally dry tongue.

“Oh, goody!” Tony suddenly popped up from his chair, exasperation in every line of his face. “Your girlfriend is here.”

Despite his dehydration, Bucky’s palms started to sweat.

**********

“They’ve really cost me this time. Fucking Avengers.”

“I know, Boss.”

“Shut up.” The voice on one side of the phone was gravelly, harsh, like ground glass. “I’ve got to think about this…”

Grant Ward pursed his lips, scratched the stubble on his chin. The voice on the phone sighed.

“God...I need someone to take over Rumlow’s position as a liaison with our drug contacts.”

“I can do it-”

“Didn’t I just tell you to fucking shut up?” Another harsh sigh. “Jesus - Rumlow had maybe half a brain, you’re working with much less than that.”

Ward kept his mouth shut that time. The seconds dragged by as he picked at his fingernails.

“Okay. Listen, Ward,” the voice spoke up again. “And listen good - you’re gonna help me send a message to the Avengers, and their new medic.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #biker!bucky #biker!bucky fic #avengers #avengers fic #marvel #marvel fic

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dragonfics · 6 years

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Thanks (again) to @itsladykit I was inspired to write some silly rom-com style TwistedHoneyMoney. The exact words that started it were “Twist/Rus, Cash/Rus, Twist/Cash love triangle (the kind that ends in polyamory, but starts with a rivalry between Twist and Cash)”. How was I to say no to a good old-fashioned love triangle? (Especially one with a Tale-verse monster sandwiched between to Fell-verse idiots).

Relationships: TwistedHoneyMoney (Twistfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus/Purple Swapfell Papyrus) (The poly relationship is not yet established in this chapter)

Summary: Fell-verse monsters have a strange method of courtship—one some might deem a little unorthodox (or, in the words of certain monsters—undignified). Then again, it takes a fool (or two) to underestimate the duplicity of a Tale-verse monster. After all, isn’t it always the ones you least expect?

Tags: Non-explicit sexual content (this chapter), flirting, teasing, unconventional courtship

Warnings: Nothing serious, but this may come across as a sort of “cheating” (though no one is in an established relationship). Everything is consensual however, and the rivalry is in good-spirits (for the most part). But... they are assholes. I’m not even going to try and deny it.

Just two chapters for this one! It was meant to be a one-shot, but I went completely overboard with the “courtship”. (I would also like to apologise to anyone waiting on the next chapter of Argent Night. Unfortunately, I’ve been a bit swamped with uni stuff, so I’ve had to delay the update. I’m hoping to get the next chapter out by next weekend.)

With that all out of the way, I hope you enjoy!

~Beneath the cut~

When the Barrier had broken, and monsters had reached the Surface, it had soon become apparent that certain members of their race were more suited to life among humans than others. While many monsters settled comfortably into their new lifestyle, some found themselves struggling to adapt to the everyday norms of human society.

“Public transport? What a concept! Why on earth would I travel out in the open where anyone could attack me without warning?”

These more ill-fitted monsters were dubbed ‘Fell-verse’ by the gentler portion of their cohort, given the widespread notion that they were merely ‘fallen’ versions of the average monster.

Naturally, the Fell-verse monsters were not pleased with this distinction, and chose to name the softer members of their species ‘Tale-verse’—as an act of petty revenge (in their own eyes, at least).

“Utter airheads, the lot of them! Waltzing around as if life is some sort of fairy-tale.”

But despite a few initial disagreements, the Tale-verse and Fell-verse monsters soon came to develop a sort of fondness of each other (though neither would ever admit it openly). Though they still butted heads occasionally, their fascination with each other took over many early misgivings.

Compassion, joy, and zest were all fairly foreign concepts to many Fell-verse monsters. So it came as quite a shock to them when the Tale-verse monsters displayed such things so openly. Words like ‘naivety’, ‘absent-mindedness’, and even ‘stupidity’ were thrown around by some. Others, however, found themselves quite enthralled by the sweeter monsters, and many Fell-verse monsters were soon to be seen wandering the streets in the company of Tale-verse monsters.

And indeed, the Fell monsters weren’t the only ones intrigued by their counterparts. Many Tale-verse monsters derived amusement from the brash behaviour of Fell-verse monsters. More than once, a Tale-verse monster would have to explain the common social etiquettes of human society to a Fell-verse monster.

“He wasn’t trying to kill you, he was just offering you a drink.”

And, as time took its course, the question of Tale-verse and Fell-verse monsters entering ‘intimate relationships’ with each other arose. At first, the mere suggestion was met with utter indignance.

On the Tale-verse end, one often heard comments such as: “Utterly absurd! Can you imagine actually trying to tame one of those creatures long enough to have relations with it? I, for one, am content to let them ravage each other instead of those of us with a little dignity!”

And, on the Fell-verse side of things: “yeah, i guess i’d fuck a—heh—tail-verse or two. but, like, do they even know what they’re doin’? … do they know what fuckin’ is?”

Yet for all the doubts and naysaying, nature inevitably took its course, and soon, relationships between Fell-verse and Tale-verse monsters came to be—rare, though they were.

It soon came to the attention of the Tale-verse monsters however, that their Fell-verse counterparts had a fairly… abnormal method of courtship. Many seemed to lack the charisma acquired to ‘woo’ the Tale-verse monsters—a fact they made up for in blunt, unashamed forwardness. And though this approach had its benefits (most Fell monsters weren’t overly fond of small-talk), its success rate was fairly laughable. As it turned out, Tale-verse monsters tended to expect a little more decorum from their suitors.

Another trait which seemed prominent among Fell-verse monsters, was the (sometimes mildly aggressive) tendency towards competitiveness. And in the case of seduction, this often led to the unabashed art of bragging of one’s conquests. It soon became a point of pride, for one to be able to say that they had been intimate with a Tale-verse monster. After all, what sort of social prowess must one possess to be able to seduce such an enigmatic creature?

Twist, a skeleton monster (and one of very few, at that), could make no claim to possessing any degree of subtlety or finesse when faced with social encounters. What he didn’t lack however—was confidence. While he’d never been one to brag (at least, not explicitly), his list of Tale-verse conquests was to be admired. Whether it was his words or his reputation—few could be sure—but Twist seemed to possess a knack for charming his way into the beds of Tale-verse monsters.

Cash, another Fell-verse skeleton, could make similar proclamations about his sex-life—and he did. Though a little shy of Twist’s level of confidence, Cash was a very proud monster, and took great strides to ensure the word of his prowess spread as far as was possible. Though he lacked Twist’s charm (and for Twist, ‘charm’ was probably a generous descriptor), he certainly had no shortage of affluence. When his wits failed him, he always had his wealth to fall back on (and it served him well).

But, as it stood, neither Twist nor Cash were quite satisfied with the list of successful Tale-verse endeavours to their names. There was one they would have liked to add—a monster they’d both had in interest in for quite some time.

Rus was a Tale-verse skeleton—and a rather fascinating one at that (in the shared opinion of Twist and Cash, in any case). Though Tale-verse through and through, Rus was rather a curiosity for the two Fell skeletons. He smiled—a lot—yet there was something behind his smile that left the mind wondering. The smile was by no means false, but it held a certain degree of ambiguity, which stirred an element of uncertainty—and intrigue—in the Fell-verse skeletons.

Being of the same ilk, Twist and Cash saw in each other a competitor for Rus’s affections. While both had yet to make a move on him, the tension between them had been present for a long time. And it was on a warm Friday night—at one of the skeletons’ weekly gatherings—that these tensions rose to a head.

****

Twist was a monster who made it his mission to spend as much time in public as his schedule allowed. So when the Tale-verse skeletons had proposed a weekly ‘pub night’—a visit to their neighbourhood’s local watering hole—Twist had been one of the first to speak up in favour of the idea (in spite of many of the other Fell-verse skeletons’ protests to the ‘Tale-verse nonsense’). And once the tradition had begun, Twist had become one of the few (if not the only) to attend every single gathering.

And this week was no different. He sat at the bar, sipping his drink and observing the other patrons (monsters and humans alike) chatting and laughing away. It was a relatively quiet night, and only a few of the skeletons had deigned to show up. Rus and Cash were both in attendance, and as it stood—very much occupied by each other.

Twist watched, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement, as Cash made his very best effort to hold Rus’s attentions. They were seated in a booth along with two of the other skeletons—Red, and Blackberry (Twist’s brother). But neither Rus nor Cash were paying much heed to the other two, sitting a little closer to each other than was perhaps necessary for an ordinary conversation.

But Twist knew it would be a while still before Cash was ready to make his move. The set of his shoulders was tense and anxious, and he barely seemed able to maintain eye contact with Rus for more than a few seconds. Twist would have been more than eager to indulge himself in the entertaining activity of watching Cash squander each passing opportunity to seduce Rus for the entire night—but, Twist wasn’t known for his patience, so after downing the remainder of his drink, he stood and crossed the bar.

As he approached the booth, Rus and Cash both looked up (the latter appearing a little less than pleased at the intrusion). “Heya, Tale-verse,” Twist addressed Rus, grinning.

“twisted,” Rus greeted in response.

Cash was giving Twist an apathetic glare, and Twist lifted a challenging brow-bone before returning his attentions to Rus. “Y’know, ‘m feelin’ a little pent up—ya wanna head back ta my place fer a couple a’ hours?”

Twist knew he was taking a risk; though this very direct method of enticement had worked in the past, Rus was difficult to read. Cash, on the other hand, made no effort to hide his bewilderment. “for goodness sake, twist, ya can’t just—”

“sure,” Rus responded, standing. Cash blinked, clearly stunned (in truth, Twist couldn’t claim to be any less surprised, but he refrained from revealing as much). Rus shot Cash a smile. “i’ll see you later, moneybags.”

Cash seemed to be struggling to find words, looking crestfallen as Twist slung an arm over Rus’s shoulders, pulling him against his side. “Don’ worry, Patches, I’ll take good care a’ him,” Twist said, knowing full well that the nickname embarrassed Cash to no end.

True to his nature, Cash blushed a pale shade of violet, ducking his head and turning his covered eye away. Twist chuckled, and pressed his teeth to the crown of Rus’s skull. “Ready ta head off then, sweetheart? I’m as good as they say, promise,” he added, with a wink.

“oh, i don’t doubt it,” Rus said. “and if you prove to be better—maybe i’ll even consider fucking you again.” Twist took no small amount of delight in the smug grin he was able to cast in Cash’s direction as he led Rus from the bar.

Needless to say, he’d won.

And, as it turned out, Rus was just as profound a partner as Twist had been hoping (more so, even). His stamina was surprising for someone of his HP, and he made very little effort to keep himself quiet (which Twist appreciated immensely). He was also astoundingly more attentive than Twist had been expecting—leaving Twist more satisfied than he could have hoped for.

As they lay beside each other on Twist’s mattress, Twist couldn’t help but grin to himself. “Gotta say, Tale-verse, I’m impressed,” he said, a little breathlessly.

“i’d be offended if you weren’t,” Rus replied, smirking. He rolled over, pressing himself against Twist’s side and resting his head on his shoulder. “you weren’t half bad yourself.”

Twist was somewhat startled by the gentle display of affection—and had to remind himself for a moment that Rus was a Tale-verse monster. Well, though unfamiliar, it certainly wasn’t anything Twist was opposed to. After a moment’s hesitation, he returned the gesture, wrapping an arm around Rus. It felt… nice.

The pleasant haze of their afterglow was broken by the dull buzz of Rus’s cell phone. Casting Twist a sheepish grin, he untangled himself from his arms, turning over and answering the call. “heya, cash. what’s up?”

Twist froze in disbelief. Why would Patches be calling now…?

“what am i doing…?” Rus turned to cast Twist a wink. “something unfathomably stupid.” Twist stifled a snort, but watched Rus carefully. There was no chance Cash was simply calling for a friendly chat; his motivations were undoubtedly less than honest. “hmm, your place?” Rus’s response to whatever Cash had said confirmed Twist’s suspicions. “tell you what—why don’t you give me an hour? that work?” Rus stifled a snort, his gaze flickering to Twist. “yeah, i’ll shower first, you asshole. see you soon.”

For a moment, Twist had to remind himself not to gape. He stared at Rus as he hung up, struggling to hide his bewilderment. “Yer… meetin’ up with Patches?” he asked cautiously, ensuring he hadn’t misunderstood the phone call.

Rus flushed slightly, but smiled, his eyes darting away from Twist. “yeah… something wrong with that?”

Twist blinked, trying to comprehend the situation. While Cash’s intrusion was not unexpected—Rus’s agreement to his offer certainly was. Still, Twist wasn’t one to back down so easily—though he couldn’t stop Rus from engaging with Cash tonight… he could certainly delay him. “We still go ‘n hour, don’ we?”

Rus shrugged. “i suppose.”

“Good.” Grinning, Twist rolled them over, straddling Rus’s hips. He leaned down, kissing the surprised look off Rus’s face. “’Cause I’ve got a few more things I’d like ta do ta ya before ya go.”

Twist considered it a victory that Rus didn’t have time to shower before he left.

Twist made sure to awake before sunrise the next morning. His bones ached pleasantly from the previous night’s activities, and his magic felt considerably warm and settled. After a quick breakfast, he made his way to the nearest bus stop. He was at Cash’s house before seven. Not bothering to ring the bell of the ridiculously pricy penthouse, Twist waltzed inside—noting that Cash seemed to have forgotten to lock the front door. He certainly must have been eager.

To Twist’s surprise, Rus was sprawled out on one of the lavish sofas in the living room, fast asleep. Cash was nowhere in sight. Shooting a cautious glance at the staircase, Twist approached Rus, placing a light hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Tale-verse,” he whispered, as Rus blearily opened his eye sockets. He blinked at Twist in surprise, a hint of amusement in his features.

“twisted… couldn’t stay away, could you?” Rus murmured through a yawn.

“Nah.” Twist grinned, climbing onto the sofa beside Rus. “Patches made ya sleep on the couch?” he questioned, lifting a brow bone.

“who says we were sleeping?” Rus asked, smirking.

Twist chuckled, leaning in. “Wanna not sleep some more?”

Rus snorted. “you sure have a way with words, twisted. do you want me to suck you off or eat you out?”

Twist grinned, feeling victorious. Leaning in, he pressed their teeth together, satisfied by Rus’s soft hum of appreciation. “How ‘bout both?” he murmured, nipping at Rus’s jaw.

Rus drew away to regard him with dubiety. “now you’re just being greedy.”

“Why waste a mouth as exquisite as yers on jus’ one form of oral?”

“well now, how can i say no to such a sweet-talker?”

Twist couldn’t decide if he was more satisfied by Rus’s performance, or the look on Cash’s face when he emerged at the top of the stairs to find Rus with his head between Twist’s legs.

A week passed without incident (sexual or otherwise), and it wasn’t until the skeletons’ next gathering that Twist saw Rus and Cash again. The day was hot, and Twist was thankful for the cool air-conditioning inside the bar. What he was not so thankful for however, was the sight of Cash and Rus huddled beside each other in one of the corner booths.

By all appearances, things seemed fairly normal (but, perhaps, for their proximity to each other). But as Twist drew closer, he came to notice a rather strange expression on Rus’s face. He looked almost pained, and light beads of sweat dotted his skull. It was only when Twist caught Cash’s expression—an almost vindictive grin—that he realised something more was at play.

Any other monster would have shied away the moment they caught whim of what was going on between the two skeletons—but Twist wasn’t just any monster. Shame was something relatively foreign to him, and without qualm, he sat down beside them, shooting Cash a broad grin. “Heya, Tale-verse—Patches—what’re ya up to?”

Rus’s eyes went wide, a heavy blush sinking into his features. But when he opened his mouth to speak, Cash cut in, leaning over to regard Twist with a challenging tilt of his head. “not much. i was just givin’ rus a hand with somethin’. isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Rus blushed deeper as Cash’s teeth grazed his neck, but he nodded (a little breathlessly), remaining silent.

Twist observed them, projecting unfazed amusement despite the frustration Cash was igniting within him. “Well,” he said, shrugging with casual indifference and leaning back, “don’ stop on my account.”

“we weren’t,” Cash growled, and Rus whimpered softly, turning to bury his face in Cash’s chest. But Cash stopped him, holding him at bay with his free hand (the other was currently… occupied). “nah, love. i want ya ta look at him. go on. turn around.”

Rus stared at Cash for a few seconds, tears leaking from the corners of his eye sockets, before turning hesitantly to look at Twist. Cash pressed his teeth to Rus’s acoustic meatus, whispering something too quiet for Twist to hear. But given the sudden heated look that crossed Rus’s features—it wasn’t difficult to guess the nature of Cash’s words.

Twist knew walking away would be admitting defeat, but he still felt thoroughly put on the spot. Embarrassment wasn’t really an emotion he was familiar with, yet he could feel magic tingling beneath the surface of his bones. Rus’s expression was an enticing mixture of bliss and discomposure, his eyes straying from Twist’s face, and his cheeks glowing. Though Twist would normally be more than inclined to enjoy the display, Cash’s complacent smirk was very off-putting.

He relinquished to sit and watch, forcing his features to appear neutral, until at last Cash pressed his hand over Rus’s mouth to muffle his cries, and pulled away. “you were perfect, darlin’,” Cash murmured, running his tongue over Rus’s neck, while keeping his gaze firmly locked on Twist. “gonna go wash my hands,” he said, sliding out of the booth and casting Twist a triumphant smirk. “don’t worry, love, i took good care of ‘im.”

Twist watched Cash go, pressing back the retorts he itched to speak. When Cash was out of sight, Twist turned to Rus, who still looked a little flushed. Shuffling over, Twist traced his fingers over the back of Rus’s hand playfully, leaning in to murmur, “Need me ta take ya home, Tale-verse? I can give y’a ride.”

Rus glanced at him, lifting a brow-bone. “you don’t drive,” he pointed out.

“Not that kinda ride, sweetheart.”

By some miracle, Rus agreed. Twist was more than obliged to continue his rivalry with Cash—indeed, he was rather delighted. The competition was thrilling—seeing the mix of outrage and frustration on Cash’s face every time Twist gained the upper hand was immensely satisfying. Not to mention, Rus was a damn good fuck.

****

Cash had never been one for socialising. He tended to avoid human (and monster) interaction as much as physically possible, and spending time in the presence of crowds was a peeve of his. He had been one of the first to reject the bullshit Tale-verse suggestion for a ‘weekly hang-out’. In fact, the first time he had attended had only been at Twist’s unrelenting insistence.

He had attended every one since.

Cash liked Rus. He liked talking to him, being around him, touching him. He was all sweet smiles and soft whispers and subtle glances that made Cash feel wanted. So on that warm Friday night, Cash’s soul had leapt a little when Rus had chosen to sit beside him. Him—and not that Twisted asshole who kept shooting them glances from across the bar. Cash made sure to establish the fact that Rus’s attentions were his for the night. He shuffled close to him, leaned in, and did his best to smile and engage.

But for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to get the right words out—hell, he could barely look at Rus without blushing. And before long, Twist was standing beside their booth, his body angled in such a way that flaunted the sharp curve of his hip and displayed just a sliver of his clavicle. His eyes were on Rus, but Cash caught the brief smug glances in his direction.

When Rus left with Twist, it felt as if a dagger had embedded itself in Cash’s chest. His fists trembled at his sides, and he could do little but stare at the hard oak of the table as his magic boiled. He caught a glimpse of Blackberry’s smug half-smile across the table, and snapped his head up, teeth gritted. “somethin’ to say, berry?”

Blackberry sighed, sounding almost pitying. “You’re not going to win against him, Cash,” he stated simply.

Irritated, Cash cast a glance at Red, who merely shrugged in concession. “yeah, uh, sorry bud. the twisted’s got ya beat by a mile an’ a half.”

Cash stared at both of them for half a minute before standing abruptly, marching for the door without so much as a ‘goodbye’. He seldom bothered mustering the energy for petty competitions—but Twist somehow seemed to know just which of his buttons to push, and Cash was nothing if not stubborn. He would not be losing this.

Relief flooded Cash when Rus picked up on the other end of the line around an hour later (a very small part of him entertained the idea that Rus had been hoping Cash would call). And Rus’s unfaltering agreement to come over sent Cash’s soul aflutter. He couldn’t help but grin to himself as he hung up, wishing more than anything that he could see the look on the Twisted bastard’s face.

When Rus arrived an hour later, he was looking a little dishevelled. “you smell like sex,” Cash remarked, letting him in.

Rus hummed in agreement, crossing the room and flopping onto one of the plush sofas. “uh… yeah. that’s normally what happens when you have sex.” Cash felt a sick pit settling in his chest, and he grimaced. Seeming to sense his discomfort, Rus quickly shook his head, smiling. “but… feel free to try and prove me wrong.” His tongue danced over his teeth, and Cash felt warmth pooling in his groin.

After pouring them both a glass of his most expensive champagne, he sat beside Rus, who seemed more than grateful for the drink. “are you trying to get me drunk, cash?” he asked, lifting a brow-bone in teasing.

“i’m trying to give you the treatment you deserve,” Cash told him, smoothly. His breath stuttered as Rus’s hand glided slowly up his femur, settling just beneath his pelvic inlet.

“fuck me on this sofa, and i’ll consider myself treated,” Rus purred, pressing his teeth against Cash’s neck. Though Cash normally turn his nose up at the thought of sullying his pristine couches—he decided to make an exception for Rus.

And oh, was he glad he did. Though fucking Rus was sweet and gentle, it was nothing like Cash had imagined it to be. Though Rus was soft and considerate—he was by no means submissive. Even as Cash pounded into him, he could feel Rus guiding his movements, encouraging him, whispering words of praise and adoration.

When Cash came, it was with tears in his eyes, and Rus’s name falling from his mouth. He flushed at how embarrassingly quickly he had reached his climax, but Rus seemed unconcerned, almost immediately curling up against him and falling asleep.

A little startled at the unreserved display of trust, Cash carefully pried himself out of Rus’s arms, gathering a blanket and draping it over him before hurrying upstairs, his cheeks burning. A small bloom of pride unfurled inside him—where Rus had only remained with Twist for a mere hour, he had chosen to stay with Cash for an entire night (even if he was only sleeping on his sofa). Cash almost considered joining him, but decided against it, the thought a little daunting.

Needless to say, the fury and despair he felt at finding Twist in his living room the next morning with Rus’s face buried in his crotch—was unfathomable. Cash vowed nothing short of bitter revenge in return.

A week later, he delivered on his promise.

The blistering heat of the day did nothing to quell the heady agitation of Cash’s magic, and he was more than grateful when he found Rus sitting in their usual booth alone at the bar. Sliding in beside him, he pushed his misgivings to the back of his mind, and slung his arm over Rus’s shoulders, leaning into him. “bit warm today, isn’ it?” he remarked, satisfied by the look of surprise on Rus’s face.

“i—i suppose it is,” Rus said, seeming a little taken off guard by the physical gesture. This delighted Cash, and he tugged Rus closer. He could feel the heat radiating from his body, and dared to indulge the idea that Rus might be just as horny as he was.

He turned his head to press his teeth to the angle of Rus’s jaw, feeling a shudder go through Rus as he scraped his teeth over the bone. “hmm… you smell delicious, y’know that?”

Rus’s breath hitched as Cash’s fingers found the waistband of his pants, teasing at the base of his spine and iliac crest. “i—the others might be here soon,” he murmured, his breathing beginning to quicken.

“do you want me ta stop?” Cash asked, pausing.

“i don’t… n-no.”

“good,” Cash breathed, his fingers finding the pool of magic which had settled at Rus’s pelvic inlet. “because i really don’t want ta stop… and besides, pretty sure the twisted asshole is the only one showin’ up today.”

Rus pulled away slightly to glance at him, a brow-bone lifted in skeptical amusement. Cash flushed a little, suddenly wishing he hadn’t spoken. But to his surprise, Rus only grinned and leaned close to whisper, “well then, we’d better put on a damn good show.”

By the time Twist arrived, Rus was barely short of a mess of sweat and magic in Cash’s hands (or, hand, rather). The sudden expansion of Twist’s eye-light didn’t surprise Cash, and he smirked as he caught Twist’s gaze. He was a little surprised when Twist sat down beside them—even more so when he remained where he was after it became obvious that Cash wasn’t stopping.

Cash heaved Rus closer, wrapping his free arm around his chest possessively, and whispering obscene words against his skull. Throughout the encounter, he refused to release Twist’s gaze—the bastard needed to learn that Cash wasn’t one to accept defeat so easily. For once, Cash found himself struggling to read Twist’s expression. His eye would occasionally stray to Rus’s face, but for the most part, he seemed to be having difficulty keeping it off Cash.

When Rus came, Cash pressed his hand over his mouth to silence him, despite the rowdy chatter that filled the bar. He allowed Rus barely a moment to catch his breath before leaning in to smooth his tongue over Rus’s neck. “you were perfect, darlin’,” he breathed, softly, carefully gauging Twist’s response. To his disappointment, Twist appeared (for the most part) unaffected by the display, but for the pale flush of magic around the spiderweb cracks of his eye socket. Giving Rus’s femur a gentle squeeze, Cash stood. “gonna go wash my hands.” He glanced at Twist, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “don’t worry, love, i took good care of ‘im.”

As he walked away, Cash preened at the way Twist’s jaw clenched—just a little. Though he knew this competition of theirs was far from over, he couldn’t help but revel in his small victory. While he was more than enjoying the pleasure of Rus’s company, he was beginning to find himself quite thrilled by Twist’s small slips in composure. The idea of seeing him fall apart completely was… more than intriguing.

****

The feud between Twist and Cash continued for weeks. With Rus as their weapon of choice, they tormented each other to no end—going so far as to interrupt one another in the midst of their ‘revenge schemes’. One positive at least, was that Rus seemed to have no complaints in regards to the arrangement. If he had any reservations about his role in Twist and Cash’s rivalry, he made no mention of them. Truth be told, he appeared a rather enthusiastic participant.

But, one Friday night at the bar, their antics were brought to a rather abrupt end.

Twist’s hand had somehow found its way up the back of Rus’s shirt, and he had his fingers curled around Rus’s spine—a predicament Rus seemed quite satisfied with. Particularly when coupled with the feeling of Cash’s sharp fingers on his ribs. The look on his face was something akin to deep bliss—though the same could not be said for Twist and Cash. Over Rus, they shared a piercing glare, each determined to outdo the other.

It was only when Edge (who had been observing the endeavour in silent distaste after being quite forgotten by the other three skeletons) loudly declared, “Oh for fuck’s sake, Rus—would you just pick one of them?”—that Twist, Cash, and Rus all came to a simultaneous halt, looking up at Edge in surprise.

Immediately, Twist and Cash exchanged a frantic glance. In the midst of all their attempts to best each other, not once had it occurred to them to simply ask Rus which of them he preferred. And suddenly, all attention was on the Tale-verse skeleton, who faltered beneath the gazes of the other three. “w-well…” he stammered, averting his gaze.

“… well?” Cash was quite literally sitting on the edge of his seat, his fingers clenched around the corner of the table. “which of us is it?”

Rus shook his head, releasing a quiet, humourless laugh. “look—it’s not that easy. i—”

“C’mon, Patches,” Twist interjected, shooting Cash a dubious grin. “It’s obviously me. Ya can’ even last more than a couple a’ minutes.”

Fuming, Cash opened his mouth to snap back at Twist—but Edge quickly cut in, sighing. “Aggrandising your own sexual prowess isn’t going to achieve anything, Twist,” he said, sharply, silencing Twist. “It’s precisely how the two of you landed yourselves in this dilemma in the first place… Rus?” Something unspoken seemed to pass between Rus and Edge—an understanding beyond what Twist or Cash had the capacity to comprehend in that moment.

Rus glanced between Twist and Cash anxiously, resting a hand on each of their arms. But their surprise at the unexpected gentle contact was nothing compared to when Rus quietly confessed, “i… i want both of you.”

#my writing #Fell-verse courtship #TwistedHoneyMoney #Just dicking around. No biggie.#us papyrus #purple sf papyrus #twist papyrus #GiveCashMoreLove2k18

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