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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Private Show

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon/dubcon, cheating, body image issues and insecurity, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find your husband at the strip club but he’s the least of your concerns.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: @slyyywriting had to fuck me up today.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tom Nook loves collecting rent. Take care. 💖

Why are you here? Are you crazy? Has he finally driven you over the edge?

You drop your head into your hands, elbows against the steering wheel as you try to collect yourself. As if it isn’t humiliating enough. It’s the last straw. You can’t do it anymore. You won’t.

You suck in a shuddery breath and sit up, gripping the ridged leather of your rusty beater. You see the silver Lexus, his new baby just across the lot. The flashing marquee with the woman in shock at her own nudity mocks you, casting red through your windshield. Your lip trembles, hold it together, bitch.

You look down at yourself, the sweatpants still damp with dishwater, the loose cotton tee barely hidden beneath an unzipped hoodie, and a pair of scuffed Walmart sneakers. You’re at home, scrubbing dishes, cleaning up his dirty socks, cooking a dinner that will only go cold, and he’s out here in his overpriced sportscar dropping money on strippers.

A cold trickle flows down your spine. Well, why wouldn’t he? You let yourself go. You’ve become the ratty, miserable, tired wife who can barely keep the floors swept. You wake up, go to work, come home and clean, then have nothing left to give him. The extra pounds don’t help either. You tug up the hem of your shirt and trace the new stretch mark.

Disgusted, you force yourself out of the car. You still have a shred of dignity. You snap the door shut and shove the jangly keys in the hoodie pocket. You drag your hands down your face and shake out your arms, building your nerve.

You march across the lot and approach the bouncer standing by the doors. His arms are crossed over his large chest as he gives a grimace to the world. He notices you and his square forehead wrinkles. You almost want to turn and run.

“’scuse me, ma’am,” he stops you with a raised palm, “you in the right place?”

You inhale and nod, “yes,” you tilt your chin up defiantly, fingers twiddling as doubt nips at your scalp, “my husband is inside.”

The words wisp from you and leave your chest hollow. Saying it out loud twists the knife to the bone. The man lets out and ‘ah’ but not much else. He tuts as and shakes his head, turning to open the door, “no fighting,” he warns.

“Just a bit of screaming,” you assure him as you bluster through, hands balled as you cling to your anger. Yes, be mad, that’s easy.

You stomp inside and stop short, looking around at the spectrum of colours; fabric, lights, glitter, bottles, flesh… You’re dizzy as you keep searching, standing on your toes as you try to see past the bodies sat along the bar and those clustered around tables. A few men sit alone, throwing money up on the stage as women twirl and spread their legs. How many of them are married?

You see him. Brock. The scoundrel. Your teeth chatter and you gulp as your eyes singe. You want to run away. You want to go home and cry into your pillow. No, it ends here. Tonight.

“Hey, honey,” a waitress startles you, “oh, uh,” her surprise is obvious as she takes you in, “need a drink?”

“Maybe after,” you answer quietly, “thanks.”

She bats her lashes and gives a tremulous grin, “alright, sweetie.”

She quickly retreats, approaching a paying customer with a shimmy of her chest. You roll your shoulders and push your head up. You want that rat husband to feel the same humiliation that scours your stomach. Strippers, really? He told you he was working late.

You make yourself move. Your heart pounds as you tramp across the room, past tables of chattering men, through the din of music playing along to the movement of naked bodies. Brock lifts his glass as you near, noticing too late as his dark eyes hang off the blond hanging upside down from a pole.

“You bastard,” you snarl as knock the glass out of his hand, “you fucking liar!”

“Woah, woah,” he raises his hands, “uh, honey,” he greets, “what are you–”

“What am I doing here?! What–” you huff, head spinning, “is this work now? Hm? You lied to me. You left me at home to clean up after your lazy ass and you're spending our money on this?”

“Our money?” He scoffs.

“Oh shut up! I can’t believe you! Actually, no, you know what, I can,” you sneer, “why the fuck did I ever marry you?”

He chuckles darkly and stands, slowly, sinisterly. The way he does to win all your arguments. Just close enough to make you anxious.

“Let’s not do this here.”

“No, no, let’s do it here because you’re not coming home.”

“Ha, I’m not? Not allowed in the house I pay for–”

“I work too-”

“You make pennies,” he retorts, “go home, honey, I’ll be there soon for dinner.”

“No, no, don’t even–”

“What the fuck did you think I was going to do?” His eyes fall down your body, “look at you. You’re not hiding anything special. I needa do this–” he gestures to the dancer, “just to get hard for your fat ass.”

You reel, the air knocked out of you. Your determination dwindles and you look around. You’re being watched. The performers can hardly keep up their routines as their eyes stray to the scene. A surge of shame erupts to fury.

“Fuck you!” You hit Brock in the chest, “fuck you!” You hit him again. He doesn’t even flinch. His indifference riles you further and you swing for his face. You’re pulled back before you can connect.

“Woah, lady,” an arm wraps around your middle, “settle down, no fighting in here–”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you growl as you claw wildly, “I’m going to–”

“Sweetheart,” another voice rises as another man appears, “come on, let’s pack it in.”

You grab at the arm around you, tugging on it without result. Brock rolls his eyes, “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t think she’d just show up–”

“I don’t give a fuck, get out,” the man says. He puts a hand on his hip, pushing back his dark jacket as he rubs his short stubble.

Slowly, sense returns to you and cools your angry adrenaline. Suddenly, you're horribly embarrassed. You stop and cover your face, “oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll go– I don’t know what came over me–”

“Not you,” the man intones out of the side of his mouth, “you.” You drop your hands to your chest as he points at Brock, “and don’t come back.”

“What– I didn’t do shit,” your husband snarls, “she came in here and–”

“You think I don’t see this all the damn time. Get out.” He pivots dismissively, Take the lady to the backroom and get her a drink.”

“No, no, please, I’ll go,” you insist, squirming as you try to free yourself.

“You’ll have a drink and calm down, sweetheart,” he waggles his finger at you then points to the ceiling, “Sam, take care of this asshole.”

Another man comes around and reaches for Brock’s arm. Your husband pulls away gruffly, “I can leave on my fucking own,” he snips, “don’t send that bitch home. She can sleep on the curb.”

Your lip trembles as Brock storms out, kicking over a chair as the man, Sam, follows to see him out. You clutch the string of your hoodie as the man at your back releases you.

“I’m so sorry. I– I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking,” you say.

“John,” the man snaps his fingers.

The man at your side once more takes your arm and tugs on you. You peer around then drop your eyes to the floor in shame. You let him lead you away, eager to hide from your rapt audience.

“Alright, alright, back to business,” the man, some sort of manager you assume, calls behind you.

You’re taken down a hallway to one of the private rooms and your escort flicks on the In Use light before showing you in. He doesn’t say a word and neither do you before he shuts the door. You sigh and look around, the space cast in a gentle violet hue centered around a small stage.

You tread hesitantly along the carpet and around the curved couch. A knock comes and you peek over as a woman in a short red dress enters with a tray with a bottle of Jack and two glasses. You watch her cross the room and set it on the low round table. You don’t know what to say so you let her go without a word.

You pace and chew your thumb. You could just go. No one would notice. Besides, why keep you here? Shit, what if they’re calling the police?

You rush for the door but it opens before you can reach it. The man, the one in charge, enters, shutting the door with a flick of his wrist as you nearly collide with him. You step back and wring your hands as you stare at him. He smirks as he watches you.

“What’s the hurry, sweetheart? Sounds like the old man won’t be staying up.”

“Um,” you swallow and cross your arms, trying to hide yourself. Compared to the club of primped, pretty women, you must stick out horribly, “I should go–”

“I told you to have a drink,” he nears and waves you towards the couch, “come on.”

“N–” you begin as he grabs your shoulder before slowly sliding his arm over it. He turns you with him and walks you across the room.

“Sit,” he points to the arched cushion, “the least you can do after coming into my club with that shit.”

You pull away and lower yourself to the couch. You hunch forward as you fold your arms over your lap, “I’m sorry–”

“I get it it, sweetie,” he goes to the table and breaks the seal on the bottle, pouring the dark whiskey into the crystal, “I’ve had this place for a while, I know men, I know most of the ones who come here shouldn’t.”

He caps the bottle and takes both glasses. He comes back to you and offers you one. You thank him with no intent to drink. He straightens and takes a long sip.

“Almost feel bad taking their money,” he mulls, “sorry, sweetheart, I know that’s not too nice to say right now.” He strides around casually.

“I… are you going to call the police?” You ask at last, cradling the glass of whiskey.

“If I was, you wouldn’t be in here,” he flicks his fingers at you, “not too hard to mop up some vodka. No harm, no foul.”

You nod and look down at the dark alcohol.

“Drink,” he demands, “I’m being pretty generous, so don’t test it.”

You raise the glass hesitantly. You take a small drink of the bitter liquid and it burns down your throat. You cough and cover your mouth. As you look up, he comes back to you and sits.

“It was stupid to come. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. That moron you call a husband should be,” he shrugs and takes a deep swig of his whiskey, “makes me wonder why they can’t just appreciate what they got.”

You laugh darkly and drink to smother your smart comment. He watches you and you shy away. He pushes against the bottom of your glass and floods your mouth with the whiskey. You choke and pull it away from your lips, hiding the overflow with your hand before wiping it away with your sleeve.

“How long?” He takes your hand away from your mouth and touches the ring on your finger.

You look at the gold band, “five years in June.”

“Ah,” he clucks and stretches to set his glass down, “not exactly what I meant. How long’s it been since he fucked you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, that’s why he’s here. Why you’re here–”

“I don’t even know who you are,” you stand and look for a place to put your drink.

He grabs your wrist, “finish your drink and answer the question.”

You yank on your arm but his grip is firm. He tugs you until you’re forced back down. You twist your arm in his grasp and he squeezes, a warning.

“Bucky,” he states, “I own this place. Now, sweetheart, you wanna be proper, fine, what’s your name?”

You stare at him. He slowly lets you go and you rub your temple. Well, what the fuck else are you gonna do? You can’t go home. You murmur out your name.

“Alright, and my other question.”

You take a drink. A big one. The glass is empty. He takes it from you as you swipe your hand across your lips to dab away the dribble. You blow out as your stomach swirls.

“Nine months.”

“Nine–” he puts down your glass and sits back to face you, “nine months.”

“Shit,” you shake your head and examine your hands, “I can’t blame him so please, I know why. You don’t have to say it.”

“Why?”

You frown, “it isn’t that hard to guess.”

“I don’t know, tell me.”

You scoff. You turn your face away and furl your fingers as you bite back tears. This if fucking humiliating.

“Look at me,” you whisper.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, but you’re hiding.”

You huff, “please, I would rather just go sleep on the street.”

“Babe, alright, I’m not being mean here. I’m not teasing you,” he shifts closer and his hand rests on your lower back. You wince. It feels like it’s been years since you’ve been touched, even just like that. “Looks like you break your back at home, you deserve appreciation for that. Shouldn’t matter what you’re wearing.”

You clench your jaw as you look down, his other hand toys with the open zipper of your shirt. You pull your arms in and hug yourself.

“Why… am I here?”

“Sweetheart, you’re still a woman under all this. Your husband’s too fucked to know it.” His finger tickles up your sweater and he plays with your hoodie, “I’ll take a good fucking bet that you could be up on one of these stages.”

“Shut up,” you try to shrug him away.

“I mean it,” his thumb brushes your jaw, “prove me wrong.”

You go rigid and grab his hand. You try to push it away and he twines his fingers through yours. He pulls your hand over and kisses the back of it.

“Well, am I wrong?” He purrs as he clings to you.

Your throat constricts as you meet his gaze. This man is hitting on you? With his eyes and his jawline, his cheekbones. You laugh cynically.

“You are wrong and I’m married.”

He lets go of your hand as you face forward. His hand lingers on your back still and crawls under your hoodie. He tugs at the elastic of your sweats and you yelp in surprise, you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Looks like a fine ass to me,” he snickers.

“Hey,” you shove him away, “what the fuck?”

“I’m not convinced,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m not convinced you’re the problem, sweetie, so you’re gonna have to show me that I’m wrong. Right now. You show me you’re not hot as fuck.”

You cringe and curl your lip, “please–”

“Take those fucking clothes off,” he leans in to growl in your ear.

You gasp as his lips tickle your cheek, the scent of his cologne fills your nose. You shiver as he brushes his fingers along your neck. He grips your jaw and presses his mouth against you as he speaks.

“You come into my fucking club and make a fucking scene like that, sweetheart,” he growls, “you want to put on a show, finish it.” He stands, dragging you up with him as he squeezes your jaw painfully, “go on, stage is right there.”

“Bucky,” you grasp his wrist, “I’m sorry–”

“Ah, ah, shhh,” he hushes you, “no more talking.”

He spins you, stopping you with hands on your hips and nudges you towards the stage. You trip as he lets you go and stumble forward. You stare at the platform, the single step up, not very far from the couch at all. Close enough to see everything.

You look at the door as you wiggle your fingers. You can go. Run for it. He startles you as suddenly his hand is in your pocket and he fishes out your keys as if reading your mind. He throws them across the room and they fall into shadow.

“I got a man outside anyhow, so let’s go, sweetheart,” he claps his hands as he falls onto the couch with a rush of air.

“I don’t–”

Music rises from the speakers, interrupting you. You turn to watch him place his phone screen down beside him and lean back. He spreads his arms across the back of the couch as he sways one leg.

You face the stage again and brace yourself. You can’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t dance. You’re hideous.

“Just gotta shake your ass a bit, sweetheart, really, it’s not rocket science,” he goads.

You climb onto the stage, eyes skittering evasively as you try to figure out what to do next. You awkwardly lift your foot and slide off your sneaker, then do the same to the other. You kick your shoes away as you pace nervously to the beat.

“Give it a bit of sass, baby,” he intones and you glance over, his hand on his thigh as he keeps one arm over the couch.

You turn and grab the front of your hoodie. You look at the ceiling and shimmy a bit, easing your sleeves down your shoulders. You get caught in the fabric and untangle your hands from the cuffs before finally flinging it away.

“Please,” you clasp the loose fabric of your tee, “I can’t–”

“You can,” he insists as his fingers tap on his leg.

You huff and look at the wall, trying to focus on the rhythm. You don’t feel very sexy. Your skin is hot with embarrassment but the heat is far from pleasant. You raise the hem of your shirt, baring your stomach as you hope the lighting hides the rippled lines around your hips. You unveil your white bra and swipe the cotton past your head.

You drop the shirt and give a spin, if only to hide a cringe. He gives a low groan but you’re certain it’s a laugh. You face him as you hook your fingers in the elastic of your sweats. If you get it over with, he’ll have his fun and send you off.

You roll down the top of the pants, rocking your hips as the music guides you. You push them down your pelvis, the cool air raising bumps all over you. As the fabric falls lower, you turn your back to him and tug it down past your ass. You drop them to your ankles and step out of them.

You reach back to unhook your bra, wiggling your bottom. You unclasp the back and ease the straps along your arms. You add it to the mess across the stage as a low shudder underlines the music. You turn, shyly, scared, and face him again.

You still, unable to even try. You can’t pretend. You don’t belong here. He’s making that clear. You came in here and now he’s showing you what’s what. Your lips part as you look at him, his hand on his crotch as he bites his lip. You blink dumbly.

You hide your body with your arms, “can I go now?”

“Go where?” He breathes as he squeezes himself, “we’re not done.”

“I…” you tuck your chin down, “please–”

“I’m hard as fuck, sweetheart, you’re not gonna leave me like this,” he drags his hand away to reveal the bulge in his pants, “so come here and take care of it.”

You gape at him. No. You’re married. And he’s a stranger.

You look down at your body and muster what’s left of your courage. You let your arms hang straight, letting him see everything. Heat spatters across your flesh, from nape to heel, sinking into your core. You quiver, for a moment confused by the plucking that feels so familiar and yet, not.

You urge yourself forward, feet flat and uncertain. Your thighs brush together as you step down from the stage and you let out a wisp. Bucky purrs as you come closer and reaches out to take you by the hips. His thumbs graze the raised flesh of your stretch marks and you latch onto his wrists.

“Please–”

“Please,” he echoes and pulls you between his knees, leaning forward to kiss the imperfections, “beautiful.”

You swallow and shake your head, “don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t fucking lie,” he breathes against your skin, teeth grazing hotly, “mm, you are so fucking hot…” he tilts his head back to look at you, his hand trailing up to grope your chest, “I told you I was right.”

Your tongue swipes between your lips and you watch how he fondles you, the doting of his hand as he rolls his thumb around your nipple. He snakes his hand under your arm and pulls you with him as he sits back. He guides you to straddle his lap.

His touch explores your torso and his breath fans over your chest. He twirls his tongue around your nipple and takes it in his mouth, suckling as he cups your other tit. He plays with you, his mouth replacing his other hand as he leaves a smear of spit across your skin.

He kneads your ass as he rocks your hips against him. He hums, the vibration thrumming through you, as he grinds you against his crotch. He snarls and falls back against the couch.

“You make me wait any longer, sweetheart, and you’re going to ruin my pants,” he rasps and nods to his body, “get on me.”

You look down at him, his jacket wide to reveal the dark shirt taut across his broad chest. You shakily put your hands on his pecs, feeling the firm muscle and letting them wander down his hard torso. You watch your hands as if they’re someone else’s.

You stop at the button along his fly. He growls and bucks his hips in encouragement, bouncing you. You pick open the button and zipper, brushing along his bulge and eliciting a gritty snarl. You push down the top of his boxers and reach beneath to wrap your fingers around him. He groans as you pull him out, stroking him as you admire his thick length.

“More than you’re used to?” He chuckles as he runs his hand along your thigh.

You lift yourself on your knees and angle against him, pushing his tip along your folds. He catches your chin and pokes his thumb along your lip as you guide him against your cunt. You lower yourself, stretching around him little by little. You stop halfway and whimper.

“Oh, baby, I know you can do it,” he cradles your face, “come on, just a little more–”

You sink down completely and he gasps, squeezing your head between his hands as he throws his head back. He sneers between his teeth as you grasp his shoulders and let out a billowy breath. You whine as you rock against him.

“Sweetheart,” he snickers as he pulls his hands away, “fuck.”

He grips your hip and tilts you, leading your motion as his eyes descend your body. You follow his pace, slipping a hand down to his chest as you moan. You’ve never been so full, so free. It’s wrong but you feel nothing but delight.

He dips his other hand down and bends his fingers along your clit, toying with you as he keeps your moving. You whine as your core pulses and the pleasure laces around your nerves, drawing them tighter and tighter. You roll your eyes back and hum as you suck in your bottom lip.

“You feel how fucking wet you are for me,” he rubs you faster, “I thought I told you not to ruin these pants.”

You groan as you carry your tempo, curling your fingers into his shoulder as his hand trails up your back. He grabs the back of your head and pulls you close, kissing you and swallowing up your moans as he keeps his fingertips pressed to your clit. You quaver as the tension winds to a fever pitch.

You tear your mouth from his and clutch his head between your hands as you cum. You cry out as you rest your lips against his hairline, shaking as the release flows from you. He grunts and hooks his arm around you.

He flips you onto your back as you exclaim. He pushes into you as deep as he can go and pulls back, thrusting sharply so you whimper. He slides back, pausing, then slams in again. He does it over and over, slamming in harder and harder as your walls cling to his long strokes.

“You even remember his name, sweetheart?” He puffs as he pounds into you, his hand stretching across your throat, “tell me, baby, who’s your daddy?”

You groan and push against his hip as he ruts, hammering you into the cushions. The world tilts and spins around you, your anger, your doubts, all lost to the whirlwind of his fucking. You clasp his thick arm and whine.

“Tell me, baby,” he demands as he squeeze your neck.

“Bucky,” you gurgle, “you–you–”

“Who am I, baby?”

“Daddy,” you drone and your head lolls in another wave of ecstasy, “daddy, please, daddy…”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #brock rumlow #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers #au #winter soldier #crossbones

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holylulusworld · 2 months

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Brock Rumlow/Crossbones Masterlist

Masterlist for all Brock Rumlow stories

Contains: 💔 angst // 💕 fluff // 💦 smut // 🖤 light smut // 🤍 implied smut

The enemies wife

His latest target

Divider by me *for my blog use only*

Find more Marvel stories here: Marvel Masterlist

#brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow x female reader #brock rumlow x you #Brock Rumlow/Crossbones Masterlist

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nekoannie-chan · 1 year

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Fractured

Title: Fractured.

Fandom: Marvel, X-men, Captain America.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Mutant!Reader.

Rating: Teen.

Word count: 682 words.

Warnings: Mention of characters death, interrogation.

Summary: You discovered Brock’s past.

A/N: This is my entry to @multifandom-lover, Annie-1018 & square 2:

"I used to be a sweet kid."

You can read it on Wattpad & Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @caplanbuckybarnes @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @mylifeispainandiloveit @writingshae @azulatodoryuga @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit

Brock kept the small locket with your photo; no one but him knew of the existence of that object. That day, maybe it would be his last mission, his last chance to see you. He had a feeling about what would happen, although he could not discern whether it would be good or bad.

He loves you, and he knew that you loved him too, but neither of us dared to take the first step, nor would he forget the look on your face when you discovered who he really was.

He cursed when Steve forced him into the vehicle; indeed, the mission had not gone as he had planned. He knew what would happen, but he would manage to escape.

He had always liked interrogations, but he preferred to carry them out and not be asked the questions himself.

He was sure that Rogers would be the one interrogating him, so he would do everything he could to make him mad and not get any answers. Steve had ruined his life.

Twenty minutes before the door opened, Brock settled into his seat, though he was suddenly confused when he saw you come in instead of Steve.

"It's been a long time," you said, looking at him.

"I can explain," Brock commented, pretending to be disinterested. He wasn't going to let you realize that you had surprised him; he was completely sure that Steve wouldn't miss the opportunity to get information from one of his enemies.

"What are you going to explain to me, Brock? Why were you trying to steal a highly dangerous substance? Or why were you part of HYDRA? " you scoffed.

"Whatever you want, although I guess you're more interested in knowing the former, I guess you're going to record it." Brock's voice sounded sarcastic.

"No one knows I'm here; in fact, no one suspects it, so no cameras," you commented.

Yes, you had used your powers for that; no one would notice that you were talking or anything that happened there. You could even be there for hours and they wouldn't notice it; in reality, it would only be less than a second.

"I know you like me," he said suddenly.

"You don't know anything, Brock."

"I know how you feel about me; I know what you thought about me that day; I saw everything in your eyes; I know too many things... "

"Don't try to be funny, Rumlow; I didn't come here to talk about that," "you said.

"I used to be a sweet kid."

"What? "

"I had a good childhood; my father was military, kind of strict, but still. You know, sometimes things happen for a reason; I didn't expect to be an orphan at sixteen."

"Did that make you what you are now? Is that how you justify everything you've done? "

"Not exactly, but that's how I ended up in the HYDRA facility."

Brock kept telling you everything that had happened in his life as you tried to decipher his intentions. In the end, he was right; you were in love with him, but you needed to know what his plan was. Anyway, it seemed like it was a forbidden love, but how many things hadn't you already done in hiding from the organization?

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"As soon as you said it, I realized, we're not in the cell at the base, are we?"

"Do you really care where we are?"

"No, of course, we could do other things," Brock suggested suggestively.

You smiled. They wouldn't do anything there, but somewhere else.

"Don't worry, I'll show you the plan later, but in the meantime, you must be ready; at any moment, I'll take you out of here," you told him.

Before Brock could say anything else, he was already alone in the room again; however, this time he was smiling. He was going to get out of there, and in the best way possible, with your help.

He looked up when he heard the door open again; this time it was Steve, so he smirked.

#multifandom-lover #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brockrumlow #brock fanfic #brock rumlow fanfiction #mcu brock rumlow #mcu crossbones

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squippy360 · 2 years

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Your Dark!Dom Steve story is way too hot, and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Could you do something similar where it’s Anti-Hero Steve and Detective/Agent Reader?

Like, Reader is ordered to hunt down the infamous vigilante Steve Rogers, but keeps letting him go because he has a crush on his quarry. So Steve captures Reader and subjects him to hypnosis that makes him give himself completely to Steve. Reader becomes a totally submissive slut who loves being a Good Boy for his Daddy, and Steve breeds him constantly because he’s just that horny and dominant

I mixed it up a bit. I hope you don't mind. :)

Steve Rogers x Male reader x Brock Rumlow x Bucky Barnes

Cw:(dark! Steve and Brock, collars, choking, aphrodisiac, bondage, biting, kissing, foursome, Love circle.)

You were the hottest and smartest detective on your squad. You had been locking yourself in your room, working hard on this case you had been handed weeks ago. After the first frustrating week of not getting anything, you started burning yourself out, trying to get a weak point in this case. This certain vigilante was 'capturing you' but always let you go. It made you frustrated to find the reason why.

You finally hit a good spot and chased after it head on, alone of course. You thought you could finally end it all, put a nail on this file and finally put it away but of course, something changed drastically.

You were sneaking around an abandoned warehouse, overhearing that the Captain of HYDRA was going to be here. You felt something odd about it but decided to go anyway. You easily snuck past guards and security, the problem was finding the asshole. You reached a quiet room where he was standing right in the middle. I tilted my head in confusion and made sure there weren't any people around before quietly entering the room. In one swift motion I shut off the lights and raced towards him.

I collided with him in the dark, wrestling to get him onto the ground. Once I had him pinned down, another set of arms came from behind me and held me down. Multiple pairs of arms grabbed at my legs and torso, trying to keep me from struggling. I growled in a low voice and tried to squirm out of their grasp. A grunted when a needle was shoved into my neck. I struggled more but couldn't get loose. Eventually, I passed out.

(😈Timeskip😈)

I groaned as I came to. My vision was still blurry and I tried to move my arms. They wouldn't move and I looked around. I was in that stupid fucking machine. I growled as I glared up at a man with straps coming from his shoulders to form an 'x' on his chest. He had a leash in his hand. It was connected to a collar on a man with a left metal arm. He was on his knees, a muzzle attached to his mouth. He was nuzzling his face against the standing man's leg.

The 'x' guy grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. "Captain was right. You are a catch~ You'd make such a good boy for my Captain~" I tried to talk but I couldn't, something strapped around my mouth prevented me from talking.

I glared up at him. We all turned to the door and saw the 'Captain' walk in. I glared at him as he came closer. "We are going to have so much fun~" He purred and turned to the other 2. "Rumlow. Start the machine for me. I wanna play with the Asset while you train mine~" Steve purred.

A headset strapped on my head and restraints bolted around my arms and legs. My breathing hitched and I felt a shock go through my body. I let out a muffled scream.

(Another one [time skip])

After a forgotten amount of time, I finally felt the electricity slow in my body stop. I was now immobile as they stood over me, grinning sadistically. You stared up at them, vulnerable and scared. They seemed to enjoy this even more. Asset was rubbing his face against your leg now. The restraints let you go and 'x' pulled me up to him. My legs were weak and I clung onto him. He smirked and dropped me. I fell onto my knees and looked up at them, my eyes glossing over.

"He's all yours." Rumlow said. Steve nodded and pecked him on the lips. "Good boy~" He praised. Rumlow blushed and stood against the wall with the Asset. Steve pulled out a leash and collar. I voluntarily lifted my head and let him put the collar on. I whimpered through the muzzle as he put the leash on.

"Let's go to the training room~" Steve purred. He tugged the leash and I crawled along next to the asset. We got to a bedroom with a lot of 'toys' everywhere. Asset already knew what to do and waited for his masters after they locked the door. I whimpered when he nuzzled against me, pawing at my crotch. My body shivered as I looked at his hazy eyes. Steve pulled me and the asset up on the bed. "Brock, Get the lube. Bucky, be a good boy and don't move, you too M/n~" Steve rumbled in our ear. They both pulled away to get some stuff.

They got a set of dildos, a bottle of lube, plugs, collar tags, and a whip. He laid me down on my back and spread my legs. "I'm going to take both of your muzzles off. No biting and be nice." Steve scolded. We nodded as Brock and Steve took our muzzles off. Bucky immediately pulled me into a needy kiss. I moaned and kissed him back. "Such needy boys~" Brock rumbled. I moaned loudly when Bucky bit my lip.

Brock yanked my clothes off while Steve wrangled Bucky to get his own clothes off. I spread my legs as he tied my hands above my head. I stared up at him while he spread lube all around my ass. "Are you ready to be an obedient pet? Hm? To submit to your masters with one simple word? Speak." He growled.

I arched my back with a whine. "Yes, Masters! I submit! I submit!" I begged out. He bit his lip and smirked. He got a whip that was sitting with the other stuff. I gasped when Steve surprised me with a needle to my neck. "Master?! W-What was that?" I cried out. "Did I say you could speak?" He said with a dark voice and spanked me again.

I shook my head. "Just a little something to get you all worked up~" Steve hummed. He tied my legs up by my ankles. Bucky was placed on top of me. He eagerly pulled me into another kiss. I moaned into it loudly as I felt 2 fingers being pushed inside. Bucky moaned as well as Steve fingered his tight hole.

My legs began to shake slightly as Brock rubbed my prostate. Bucky bit my lip and went crazy on my neck. I groaned and nuzzled into Bucky's neck. "Go on, pet. Tell the asset how you feel~" Steve said, running his hand on my right thigh. "Asset!!! It's so good!!! Please, More!!! I want more kisses and bites!!! Please use me!!!" I cried out.

Steve slapped Bucky's ass and I moaned when I felt him bite down a bit harder. "I think they're ready, Sir." Brock said to Steve. Steve smirked and tilted Brock's head up by his chin. "Good boy~" Steve purred and pulled him into a kiss, taking his wrists and cornering him on the wall. Me and Bucky looked back when we heard Brock moaning lightly. Our cocks were twitching at that and Bucky rutted against me. I looked into his eyes with a heated look. I felt my body spasm with pleasure and the liquid Steve shoved inside my neck kicked in.

"C'mon, good boy~ Let's get your reward~" Steve purred. I saw Steve pull out a powerful vibrating dildo. He lubed it quickly and shoved it into Bucky. Bucky screamed and thrusted against me. "Speak asset~" Steve hummed. "MASTER! PLEASE ME MASTERS! I'M BEGGING YOU! I PROMISE I'LL BE GOOD!" Bucky keened.

I threw my head back and cried out when Brock's thick cock bucked into me. Steve watched us, leaning against the wall and slowly stroking his cock. Bucky pulled me into another harsh kiss. My whole body was burning and I felt so horny. I let out a desperate whine and kissed Bucky back. His metal arm came up and started choking me in a way that didn't hurt but felt really good.

"Speak, Pets." Steve breathed out. "S'good, Master!! I'm being so obedient for you, Masters!" Bucky cried out. "Please, Master! My body is so hot!! Pease fuck me, Master!!! Until I can't think!!!" I begged. Steve went to Brock and sensually grabbed his hips. He bent Brock onto Bucky and started fucking him. We were all moaning loudly. "Steve!!" Brock begged out, nuzzling into the nape of Bucky's neck. Bucky's eyes rolled into the back of his head and I felt him cum on our tummy.

Steve was pummeling into Brock. "You all are. So. Fucking. Obedient. I love all of you~" Steve growled and bit the nape of Brock's neck, thrusting a final time before cumming into him. I felt Brock cum inside of me and I screamed out, cumming onto me and Bucky's tummy. We all stopped moving, panting loudly. Bucky pulled his hand away from my neck. He pulled me into a much softer kiss. I kissed back, grinding up into him. Steve kissed his marking on Brock's neck, quietly praising him.

I whimpered when Brock pulled out of me and his cum leaked out. Bucky gasped quietly when the dildo was pulled out and replaced with a red gem plug. Steve pushed a black gem plug inside me so Brock's cum couldn't leak out anymore. They let my legs and arms go. They put a black and blue collar around my neck with the words 'Pet' on it. My face heated up at that and I smiled a bit. Bucky's collar had the word 'Asset' on it. He nuzzled into me again, resting on me.

"Such good pets~" They cooed as me and Bucky passed out.

Next up: Stucky x Male reader

#avengers x male reader #marvel x male reader #marvel #x male reader #male reader #captain america x male reader #captain america #brock rumlow x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #crossbones #crossbones x male reader

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skyfallslayer · 2 years

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Cherry (Masterlist)

Main Masterlist

🍒 Summary: As a superhero, you always believe in the good that comes with it, and the feeling of bringing hope to people's eyes makes your heart flutter. That is… Until you witness your teammates murdering your husband. Now your world is upside down, and the people you once deemed your enemies are offering you some help. Will you take the bait? Or bury your head in the sand?

🍒 Pairings: Bucky x Fem!Reader; Platonic!Avengers x Reader; Platonic!Peter x Yelena

🍒 Rating: Explicit

🍒 Warnings: At the beginning of each chapter (This story will contained future 18+ content. Minor DNI)

🍒 Word Count: 9,203

🍒 Start Date: 7/28

🍒 End Date: N/A

🍒 A/N: This AU is inspired by Amazon's The Boys. Only inspired. And for anyone who watches the show, you know that this story will get dark, gory, and very smutty. You'll be warned before each chapter, but read at your own risk. The story and it's plot is the only thing I own.

//-Index-//

🍒Character Bios:

Meet the Avengers: 001 002 003 004 005 006

Meet the Thunderbolts: 007 008 009 010 011

🍒 Chapter 1: A Crimson Deception?

🍒 Chapter 2: A Red Awakening

🍒 Chapter 3: A Red Awakening II (Coming Soon)

-Taglist is open if you liked to join-

@marvelouslovely-barnes @daddyavesxx

@avengershoney @cjand10 @dumb-fawkin-bitch

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yanderelmk · 1 year

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Hey! 🌸 here

I was wondering if I could request some yandere Mayor or Syntax (Maybe both?)x reader . Reader is really self conscious about their looks, and don’t really believe any compliments, no matter how sincere they are. With some research, our yandere found the reason for such behaviour, reader was bullied back in school days, and didn’t really move on even after graduation. Would they rather comfort reader or go straight to violence? 💙💚

CW: Torture, Gruesome Murders, Gore It had taken Syntax the better part of a week, but finally he found something. He'd searched back through social media accounts, checked some dates to make sure the timeline matched up, and with a sinking heart read tens of scathing comments about his darling. Attacks about their behaviors, the way they'd dress...and so, so many comments about their appearance. He didn't even flinch when the Mayor spoke from behind him: "Each word is another blade I will drive into their vile hides." "We cannot just let them get away with breaking down Y/N. Mayor, do you think you would be up to possibly...?" The Mayor's ever-present grin spreads even wider, his eyes shining that brilliant cold blue. "With pleasure." he all but purred. After a few weeks, TV stations began airing news of of extremely violent murders. The bodies of the victims were so thoroughly brutalized the only identification methods that yielded results were dental records. They had been found in an abandoned warehouse that had been decorated to look like a combination of every torture horror movie combined. Drills, saws, chainsaws, bone saws, scalpels, forceps, pliers, crowbars, baseball bats were among tools recovered at the scene, all without any fingerprints. One of the victims, the most vicious of the bullies, had apparently been tied up and placed in a bathtub full of drain cleaner. The base had, over a matter of hours, dissolved the victim into red mist. Y/N had been horrified to hear what had happened to their old bullies, but as they clung to the Mayor and Syntax, they wouldn't see the devilish smile the two shared.

#lmk #lmk yandere #yandere lmk #lmk yandere syntax #lmk yandere mayor #lmk viral crossbones #lmk viral crossbones x reader

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timmurleyart · 11 months

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Tiny pirate boat. 🏴‍☠️⚓️

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sansxreaderbraindump · 1 day

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"CROSSBONES AND HIS INFAMOUS NEMESIS, DEVIL SIDE!!"

(i want goofy villian reader so i wrote headcanons for it. i got this idea during ht san stream. Goofy readeer) also spoilers on ts underswap tho. if you dont wanna get spoiled (like milk), go watch someone play the full demo or play it yourself on gamejolt. YOUR OWN COOL VILLIAN NAME: DEVIL SIDE Real boring name: [name] ^ From time to time, you always change your villain name like "DEMON HARE, CHAOS BRINGER AND DESTRUCTIVE FUNNER and other cool villainous names you came up with" but you usually just stay with devil side to make it easy on your skeleton nemesis. How you got to this phase of your life: Back in the days, you used to work for Count Koffin-K. cooking up ideas for him, feeding jeremy, joined them on their random schemes, and did the dishes when the boogiemen didn't. Yet, you grown tired and wanted to do villain skits on your own. It was heartbreaking for Koffin-K and his boogiemen to set you off on your own like a parent sending off their child to collage. For one thing, Larry and Harry cried so hard they accidentally made a stream that Woshua struggled cleaning up but managed too victoriously :D. * It been a w-wicked time with y-you..I DONT WANNA LET YOU GO BUD WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! * I-IM W-WITH LA-LARRY I DONT WANNA LET GO EITHER WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-AHHHHHHHHH! LARRY, YOU IDIOT YOU'RE CRUSHING US! "A-as how h-heartwretching and painful this is, like really p-painful! LARRY FOR THE QUEEN'S SAKE COULD YOU STOP CRUSHING US TO DEATH!" As well as the boogiemen crying for you, Koffin-K didn't want you to see him shed a tear. he attempts to hide it away but you see right through him. In contrast, You comforted him and reassured him that on weekends you and him can collab on doing evil schemes together and visit the boss and the gang on the weekends. "aww boss didn't know you would cry for me." * WELL OF COURSE! HOW COULD I NOT WEEP FOR YOUR DEPARTURE! *sniff* *sniff* "aww gonna miss you too boss. but its not like I'm gonna be gone forever. we can Collab on doing evil stuff like ding dong ditch and I'll come visit you on the weekends." * ...Can you still do the dishes. "..there will be some setbacks." ALTER EGO SANS INTERACTION One day when you first met sans (his true form), you were done finishing up some traps and "kidnapping" a random monster who found for crossbones to save (with consent from the hostage. you will take full responsibility if they were to be hurt) You were ready to throw in a brick with an note for crossbones to find until you saw sans (crossbones) and mistaken him for crossbones. "NOW I HAVE YOU IN MY SIGHT CRO-!" "umm sorry but is that you crossbones?" *think again sweetheart. AH HAH! I KNEW IT! YOU AIN'T CROSSBONES, YOUR JUST A FAN "WHO LOOKS JUST LIKE HIM BUT DIFFERENT" (d-did you just call me sweetheart?) - he flirts with you on the daily basis, just to mess with you. its very fun. *also, the telescope costed 257 G. "WAIT WHAT, YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME-" *but for you, it has a discount off 100%. "..." (you ran away, blushing and grumbling while you're at it) *heh, cute.

YOU AND CROSSBONES - Crossbones thinks you're cute and a dork. A cute dork! - First time you guys met was at the costume party. You were planning to create your costume but procrastinated all month and didn't manage to finish it up in time. In shame, you just taped a piece of paper that said "pretend that I have the best costume you ever seen!" to your chest and hang out in the corner, enviously staring at the other people's cool costume. You could just go home but there was free food so you stayed there, eating all the cheese crackers. You thought you could not talk to anyone but you thought wrong. The comedic skeleton came up to you, reading the paper and said "that is the best costume I ever seen." the second meeting was when koffin-k toilet papered all 4 houses with the boogiemen including you. Then crossbones came in, saving the day. In a glance, He recognized you and you recognized him. What a twist a long time stanger turned out to be a villain full of mischief. You were captured with koffin-k but you land out a hand to help your boss escape in a quick sweep. You threw him like a frisbee out of the trenches of a shack. He escaped with your help and yelled out very loudly "I WILL COME BACK FOR YOU WITH BACKUP" while spinning in the wind. so there you were, alone with crossbones in the punishment shack. * nice villain costume by the way. Best costume I ever seen. "you still remember that?" Some interactions I came up, enjoy!

"YOU'LL NEVER DEFEAT ME CROSSBONES FOR I HAVE A PLAN F IN MY SLEEVES" *ok *quick gooey question, what do you want for dinner? "...Pizza." (papyrus in the distant): SANS STOP MAKING DINNER DATES WITH THE ENEMY!! - also if you and crossbones were married 👀, you and him would do enemies to lovers domestic role playing. "WAIT YOU, MY NEMESIS WANT ME TO TAKE ME OUT ON A DATE!!?!? *we are married, you dork. "sans pleaseee, just play along :(" *alr alr if it makes you happy." - Dark side love nicknames for crossbone MY RIVIAL, MY NEMESIS, THE BONES WHO FOILS MY EVIL PLANS, THE BONELY ONE TO STEAL MY SOUL, sans♥ - crossbones love nicknames for dark side dork, cute dork.

- One time when you got grumpy with crossbones because you planned more to show but got captured by him too early. In attempt to get you stop being all pouty, crossbones held you bridal style carry while you were tied up, but that didn't work instead you gave him something even much worse. The silent treatment, But that didn't last for long, he gave a smooch on your cheek to stop you being all grumpy with him. *aw don't turn into the grumpy side [name]. "mmm >:(" *even worse, the silent side. *well good thing I know how to bring them back. *mwah❤ "...FINE FINE YOU WON!" *Welp off to the punishment shack we go.

Extras - i named them devil side because y'know in undertale/deltarune we are the angel (that is what I believe). so I called them the opposite like "ahahaha i am devil side" but inside they are an angel in heart. - also i thought of devil side (you) to be like a character that belongs in this world. I think it was clever, cuz its swap over you the player is now devil side and you belong in this world well a version of you that is...

#crossbones x reader #sans x reader #i love ts underswap so much #if yall never played #play their demo #it so good #i started this draft in like December 2023 #finally finished #had to like heavy edit it cuz i didnt like half of the stuff #sorry if there is any word problems #i might come back to this to edit it some day #maybe during the summer 🤷‍♂️

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remedywriter · 2 years

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Till The End Of Time.

Issue 5

(Steve Rogers x fem!OC)

As Steve and Brooke made their way down to the front of Steve's apartment building, Brooke had a couple of questions.

"You're friend," She began. "How did you meet him?"

"We've been friends for... quite awhile actually." Steve said. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't exactly want to tell her the truth either. He knew she wasn't H.Y.D.R.A., but he still didn't want too many people knowing who Bucky really was.

"Awhile as in before S.H.I.E.L.D. was infiltrated?" Brooke pushed.

"Yes." Steve nodded.

"He looks awfully a lot like one of the H.Y.D.R.A. agents S.H.I.E.L.D. is looking for." Brooke stated.

Steve didn't know what to do. There was no way he could protect Bucky without flat out lying to her. He didn't want to, but he needed to be sure he could one hundred percent trust her before he told her who Bucky really was. He had no choice. He had to lie.

"Bucky's not H.Y.D.R.A." Steve shook his head. "He's just a friend who needed a place to stay for a little while."

Brooke sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just a little... paranoid, I guess. Too many long work days."

"It's ok. Trust me. After I found out H.Y.D.R.A had taken over S.H.I.E.L.D., I was paranoid about everything." Steve laughed. "I know how it feels, and it's ok."

Brooke smiled. "You really do know how to give someone a pep talk."

"Well, I've had a lot of years of practice." Steve joked.

"So just out of curiosity, how old are you?" Brooke asked. "Legally. Not physically."

"Ninety six." Steve laughed. "Feel great though."

"You look great." Brooke smirked. "I would've never guessed you were older than my grandfather."

"Not even by my shirt?" Steve chuckled. "My friend, Sam, makes fun of it a lot."

"It gives character." Brooke smiled. She then decided to change the subject. "So where are we going?"

"There's a little cafe just down the block from here." Steve explained. "It's small, but I like that it's pretty quiet and not a lot of people go there."

"So you like to go there because you can be Steve Rogers and not Captain America?" Brooke asked.

"Yeah. Exactly." Steve nodded.

The two kept talking as they walked down the street to the cafe Steve had been referring to.

"This is really cute. I like it." Brooke said.

"And the food here's not bad either." Steve added.

They both went inside and ordered. Steve insisted on paying for Brooke's lunch, no matter how hard she tried to pay for it herself. Then once the food was ready, they both went to sit at one of the outside tables.

"You come here often?" Brooke asked.

"A couple times a month." Steve nodded. "I like to come and draw the city."

"Captain America draws?" Brooke asked. "Are you any good?"

"Good for an amateur, I guess." Steve shrugged. "I never went to school for it or anything like that. It's just something I like to do. It helps me take my mind off of stressful things."

"I do the same thing with Jeopardy." Brooke joked. "But that's really cool. You'll have to show me sometime."

"Oh, you probably wouldn't be impressed." Steve shook his head.

"The best thing I can draw is a funky looking stick man. Anything better than that would be impressive to me." Brooke said.

Steve looked embarrassed. Like Bucky had said, he never really did get to go on a date with Peggy. If things went well, Brooke would be his first girlfriend. He didn't realize how shy and awkward he could be in front of someone he could easily converse with a few days ago.

"You said you like Jeopardy?" Steve changed the subject.

"Yeah. I watch and play with my roommate. He's my cousin and he thinks he knows everything." Brooke laughed.

"That sounds like fun." Steve chuckled. "Jeopardy's the trivia show, right?"

Brooke tried not to laugh at the almost one hundred year old man. "Yes. It's hosted by Alex Trebek and it's for really smart people. So I'm not really sure why I watch it."

"You seem brilliant to me." Steve said.

"Thank you," Brooke smiled. "but although I am good at noticing details and retaining information, I have no idea what the thirteenth largest river in the world is."

Steve laughed. Being around Brooke felt good. He hadn't felt this happy since he was with Peggy. He thought that after he went into the ice that he would never be happy again, but the young woman sitting before him proved him wrong.

#captain america tfa #captain carter #avengers endgame #infinity war #captain america x oc #captain america comics #captain america and bucky #bucky barnes #brock rumlow #crossbones #james barnes #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #winter soldier #captain america civil war #captain america #james buchanan barnes #steven grant #steve rodgers x reader

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choism · 9 months

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Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize.

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something.

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him.

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown smut #buggy the clown x reader #opla smut #opla x reader #op smut #op x reader #one piece smut #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #buggy #buggy the clown

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Summary: Conflict arises with Harris's new teacher, filling Halloween with more tricks than treats. But it's nothing a visit with Ms. Sweetheart can't fix.

Warnings: allusion to Reader and Eddie's one-night stand, panic attack, Reader's grandma has dementia.

WC: 5.6k

Chapter 6/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Guns N’ Roses t-shirt: check. Goodwill jeans with makeshift holes in the knees: check. Bandana tied snugly around his forehead: check. Arms littered with an assortment of temporary tattoos: check.

Eddie grins as he assesses his son’s costume, reaching into the thrift store bag as he pulls out the pièce de résistance: a denim jacket, only two sizes bigger than Harris would usually wear. It was a bit over what he’d been hoping to spend, but he’d reasoned with himself that it could also be worn after Halloween. It was an investment, he’d decided, not a splurge.

His smile falters when Harris indignantly stomps his foot, crossing his arms over his chest. While Eddie had hoped his son would go with more badass tattoo options, perhaps a skull and crossbones or even a snake, he had insisted on a Sesame Street theme. Cookie Monster munches on his signature treat as Harris pouts.

“No, Daddy!” he whines, twisting away when Eddie holds the jacket closer to him. “I can’t wear that!”

“C’mon, Har,” he tries, scouring his brain to come up with a convincing enough lie. “Axl Rose wore jackets all the time!”

Harris doesn’t just shake his head; he swivels his entire body back and forth in protest. “I don’t care! No one’s gonna be able to see my tattoos!” He holds out both arms in front of him; nearly every square inch (besides the section blocked by his cast) is covered. Eddie had spent most of last night diligently applying them precisely where Harris had asked, lest there be a tantrum. There was, unfortunately, a headless Elmo from when Harris had asked–no, demanded–that he try by himself. Still, Eddie figured that only one casualty was a win.

“Those are some sweet ol’ tatties,” Eddie muses, biting back a laugh at the two-dimensional Big Bird on his son’s forearm. “But wouldn’t it be cool if you wore the jacket into school and then–BAM!--took it off and surprised everyone with them?

Harris appears to consider this, mouth tucked into his cheeks. “Can I show Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Sure, bud. We’ll stop by her classroom when I pick you up.” Whatever gets us out of the house in weather-appropriate attire. “But first, show me your most metal pose.”

The boy opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue as far as it extends, scrunching his face dramatically until the corners of his eyes crinkle. His middle and ring fingers press into his palm, thumb crossing over them, with his forefinger and pinky raised in the quintessential rock ‘n roll symbol.

Eddie swoops down and smacks a wet kiss to Harris’s cheek. “That’s my boy!”

Standing among the crowd of parents at pick-up, Eddie opts out of making banal small talk and instead chooses to look at the bulletin board. The previous art project that had been hanging against the faded blue paper–”self-portraits” that the students had made on the first day of school–have been replaced by finger paintings of orange blobs that vaguely resemble pumpkins. There wasn’t one for Harris because he was in Ms. Sweetheart’s classroom then, so it’s his first art project in his new class. He eagerly scans the board for Harris’s, frowning when he can’t find his name.

Maybe it’s still drying, he tries to convince himself, imagining his son over-saturating the paper with globs of paint. It wouldn’t be entirely out of character.

Ms. Marion’s classroom is a sea of costumed children. A boy dressed as one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stands by his mom. A Cinderella, a black cat, and a Thomas the Tank Engine surround Ms. Paula. As soon as Eddie spots Harris, he smiles and waves him over, hurriedly scribbling his signature on the sign-out sheet.

He expects Harris to zoom past the other kids, fueled by the standard Halloween diet of sugar and chocolate, but he just kind of…mopes to the doorway. His shoulders slump dejectedly, and though he keeps his gaze low, Eddie can still see the film of mist staining his innocent eyes.

“Har, what’s wrong?” He waits for an answer, and when he doesn’t receive one–an oddity for his perpetually chatty son–he tries a new tactic. “Wanna show me where your artwork is? I must be gettin’ old, because I couldn’t find it on the board out there.”

“‘S not there,” Harris mumbles, scratching off a flaking piece of the Rosita tattoo on the back of his hand. “I didn’t get to finish.”

Eddie watches as the tears start to slip down his cheeks, and he brings him into the hallway before Ms. Marion or Ms. Paula sees what’s going on. He can’t be certain, but his paternal instincts tell him that they’ve contributed to Harris’s sad state. “Why not?”

“I-I t-tried, but M-Ms. Mar-Marion and Ms. P-Paula got m-mad at me.” The words come out between choked sobs. “‘C-Cuz I c-couldn’t sit d-down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I k-keeped st-standing up, ‘cuz m-my legs wanted to st-stand.” The explanation tumbles out of him so quickly, as though he’s trying to beat the clock. “And they s-said if I did-didn’t sit down, I c-couldn’t do art. But I k-keeped f-f-forgetting, and th-they t-taked away my pay-pay-paper and said, ‘sit in the c-corner!’”

Eddie’s breath hitches, and he has to clear his throat before speaking again. “Did…did that happen in Ms. Sweetheart’s class? The legs thing?”

“Mhm,” Harris manages, “b-but she let me stand and d-do ju-jumps to get the wig-wiggles out. She just t-t-telled me not to do ju-jumps with s-s-scissors, ‘cuz of s-safety.” His breathing increases to a rapid pace, face flushing red as his chest heaves. “B-But Ms. M-Marion ye-ye-yelled at me!”

Eddie’s brows pinch together, and he gently presses his calloused palms against Harris’s narrow shoulders, desperate to prevent him from hyperventilating. “Harris, you gotta calm down. I can’t understand you when you’re crying like this!” Despite his efforts, his frustration bleeds into his tone, and he winces when the latter sentence ends with an unwanted snap. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s just an art project.”

“Harris?”

The sound of your voice draws the attention of both Munsons. You let out a small oof as Harris flings himself against your legs, and though he practically flew the five foot distance between his father and you, now is not the time to remind him about using his walking feet.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” You crouch down, taking his hand in yours, and notice his quick, shallow breaths. “We’re gonna breathe together, okay? Eyes on me.” You demonstrate inhaling for three seconds, holding for three seconds, and exhaling for three seconds. “Now let’s do it together.”

He hesitates but ultimately follows your lead, and you guide him until his breathing slows enough for him to sputter, “I t-tried to sit, b-but I c-couldn’t.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what he’s referring to, but Eddie fills you in. You feel the heat of anger creeping through your body, not just for the way your co-worker treated the sweet boy, but for her insolent approach to teaching as a whole.

“We can go to my classroom,” you offer, silently sighing in relief when the boy nods in agreement. “I don’t know if I have the supplies to make the same project as Ms. Marion, but if you have a few minutes, you can draw something now. I bet Mr. Will would love to help you; he’s a super-duper artist.”

Just as you’d predicted, Will jumps at the opportunity to help Harris with his impromptu art project, encouraging him to draw something that makes him happy. While he does that, you comb through the mess left behind from the Halloween party you’d thrown. You’d sooner toss one hundred cupcake wrappers in the trash before attempting a conversation with Eddie Munson. He’s simply too unpredictable; kind and thoughtful one day, harsh and guarded the next.

One of the wrappers in your hand drops to the floor and you reach forward to pick it up, pinching the pleated material between your pointer and middle fingers. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on your form, the way the backs of your thighs are slightly exposed when you bend over, and you stand up quickly.

“Are you the Magic School Bus lady?” He takes in your lavender dress with planets and stars stamped all over it. Oh. He wasn’t checking you out; he was just trying to figure out who you’d dressed up as. Good. Anything else would be inappropriate.

So why does a twinge of disappointment radiate through you?

You glance at your costume; with all of the commotion, you’d forgotten you’d even been wearing one “I mean, would I even be a teacher if I didn’t jump at the chance to be Ms. Frizzle?” You motion over to Will, decked out in green from head to toe with two yellow horns glued to a headband atop his mop of brown hair. “Have you met my trusty sidekick, Liz the Lizard?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, Byers actually used to play in my D&D club back in high school. Made some pretty sick art pieces to liven up that dingy excuse for a room.”

You look between the two of them, trying to do the mental math. “Will, didn’t you say you’re twenty-four?” And if Eddie is thirty, that means…

“I, uh, had a little trouble graduating,” Eddie sheepishly admits, ruffling the back of his hair and offering a tight grimace. “But I got there eventually. Class of ‘86, baby!”

“Worked out for me,” Will shrugs with a grin, looking up from Harris’s drawing. “You were the best DM Hellfire ever had. Although, rumor has it that Erica Sinclair gave you a run for your money.”

Harris picks up a yellow marker, furiously scribbling a circle in the left-hand corner of his paper. You try peering over to see the whole drawing, but he presses his whole body against the table, successfully thwarting your plans. “No peeking!” he warns, not putting his feet back on the ground until you’ve averted your gaze. “‘S a surprise.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll be surprised.” You raise your eyebrows at Eddie, who shares a similar response in return.

“Dunno when he got so bossy,” he snorts before calling out to his son, “Har-Bear? Five more minutes. We gotta get home to trick-or-treat with Grampa Wayne.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun!” you echo as Harris grabs a purple marker from the box. “What’s your favorite candy?”

“Hmm.” Harris uses his free hand–the one with the cast–to tap his chin, continuing to color with the other one. “M&Ms. But only the plain ones. Daddy doesn’t let me have the peanut ones ‘cause he says I could choke.”

You shoot a sly, knowing look at Eddie. “I’m sure that’s the only reason. Such a selfless father.” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head innocently. “And what do you do with all of these confiscated peanut M&Ms, Mr. Munson? Donate them?”

Eddie tucks his lips into his mouth to mask his grin. “Listen, the jig is gonna be up at some point,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, loud enough so you can hear but soft enough that Harris can’t. “Let me enjoy my free candy while it lasts.”

“No judgment here,” you say with a small laugh, “they’re one of my favorites, too.”

“TA-DA!” Harris shouts, startling you, Eddie, and Will. He holds up the construction paper and smiles widely. To anyone without kids–or who didn’t teach preschool for a living–it would look like a bunch of colorful scribbles. But you can tell that he’s drawn a group of people standing by a tree (or a really, really tall flower) underneath the sun.

“Wow, Harris! That’s amazing!” you clap your hands together to punctuate your enthusiasm. “Who are all those people?”

Harris’s pointer finger travels left to right across the paper as he names each person: “That’s me, Grampa Wayne, Daddy, you, and Mr. Will!” The stick figure that represents you has a purple scribble on it, which you realize must be the costume you’re wearing. “An’ we’re all smiling because we’re happy!” Sure enough, each person has a curved red line at the bottom of their face. But there’s something else that catches your eye.

All of the people have a small space between them, except for you and Eddie. The circle that Harris drew to represent your left hand overlaps with the circle that is Eddie’s right.

You glance at the real Eddie, and if he notices, he doesn’t give any indication. “I love it, buddy.” He takes the drawing and inspects it closely. “Yup, this one’s definitely going on the fridge when we get home.” He flicks the paper for good measure. “Go clean up the markers so we can head out, Axl Rose.”

Among the noise of markers clattering back in the bins, you lean in to Eddie, inadvertently inhaling the scent of his cigarettes and cologne. For a brief moment, you’re transported back to the night fate had led you to cross paths; the thought of his lips on your neck in the stairwell has you clenching your thighs and swallowing thickly as you murmur, “I can ask him to make a new one with just you, him, and his grandpa.”

Eddie shakes his head. “N-No. I like this one.” He lets one hand drop to his side and it grazes yours. His rings brush your knuckles, and you instinctively draw back at the sensation of the cool metal and the zing of heat that pulses at his light touch. “Sorry,” he mumbles, not making eye contact.

“S’okay.”

He blinks a few times and redirects his attention to his son. “What do you say to Mr. Will and Ms. Sweetheart for letting you do your art project?”

Harris’s little chest swells as he inhales deeply, storing up as much oxygen as he can fit in his lungs before bellowing, “THANK YOUUUUUUU!”

Eddie brings his palm to his ear canal, rotating his forefinger as though trying to repair a punctured eardrum. “Love the enthusiasm,” he says through gritted teeth. “Seriously, though. Thank you both so much.”

“Of course,” Will says warmly, picking up the marker bin and placing it in its space on the shelf.

“Anything for Harris.” You smile, motioning towards the little boy already by his father’s side. “Have fun trick-or-treating tonight, bud! I can’t wait to hear about all the yummy candy you got.”

Harris scrunches his nose in contemplation. “Are you going trick-or-treating, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Nah,” you laugh, “I’m gonna stay home and give candy to all the kids who come by.” And pray that Grandma doesn’t curse them out, you silently add.

“Oh.” Harris pauses, grabbing his dad’s hand. “Okay, bye!”

Eddie chuckles as his son pulls him towards the door. “That’s my cue. Um, Happy Halloween,” he adds awkwardly, waving once before disappearing down the hallway.

There’s so much more that he wants to say: you’re the best; you saved the day; you should be my son’s teacher instead of that old, bitchy bat. But he didn’t have time. Maybe another day. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Wayne arrives just a few minutes after Eddie and Harris get home. As soon as his gruff voice comes over the intercom, Harris excitedly buzzes him in. “Grampa Wayne’s here!” he yells, even though Eddie’s standing right next to him. He grabs the pillowcase from the couch; it was originally white, but after Eddie accidentally threw in a red sock with the white laundry, it’s tinted light pink.

No sooner does the older man cross the threshold into the apartment, Harris is trying to drag him out again. “Let’s go, before all the good candy is gone!” he whines. His eyebrows pinch together and he drops his grandfather’s hand. “Oh, wait, I gotta show you something.” He scampers off into the kitchen, and Wayne winces when he hears the rattle of magnets falling to the floor.

“I’m okay!” Harris calls out, running back with a piece of paper in his hand. “Look what I drawed at school today!” He gives Wayne the rundown of who’s who.

Wayne analyzes each person in the picture, stopping at the overlapping circles between you and Eddie. “This is great, Har-Bear,” he muses. “Are, um, are Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart holding hands?”

“Mhm,” Harris casually confirms, taking the drawing back. “‘Cause they’re married.”

Eddie chokes on air as Wayne does a double-take. “Congrats, Ed,” he jokes, clapping a hand to his nephew’s shoulder. “Gotta say, I thought I’d at least get an invite.”

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Harris, why do you think that Ms. Sweetheart and I are married?” He wracks his brain for answers, but he can’t come to a logical conclusion. Did I talk about her in my sleep? Oh, shit, what if it was when I had that dream—

“Because you gived her a present,” Harris says, eyes innocent and wide. “And when grown-ups love each other, they give each other presents.”

“Oh, he gave Ms. Sweetheart a present, huh?” On the surface, Wayne’s words are as innocuous as Harris’s, but Eddie hears the teasing buried just beneath.

Harris nods. “Mhm. He gived her a tape!”

“It was the Toni Braxton one that she came into the shop for…that day that, uh…” Eddie raises his eyebrows at his uncle, who nods in acknowledgment. He brings his focus back to his son. “It doesn’t mean that we’re married. People have to go on dates and fall in love before they get married.”

The young boy absorbs this information. “So you should go on dates and fall in love with Ms. Sweetheart!” His face lights up at the idea of it, and it breaks Eddie’s heart to let him down.

So, he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you hang that back up so we can get outta here and get you some candy, huh?” He forces a smile and watches his son scamper into the kitchen before turning back to Wayne and shaking his head.

Harris peels a magnet off of the fridge, the one Eddie bought him on their Daddy-Son day. It has a sea lion balancing a beach ball on its snout, with HAWKINS ZOO printed in bolded letters along the bottom.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, he speaks directly to his drawing. “When Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love and get married, I’ll finally have a mommy.” He presses his hand flat against the paper as though he’s sealing in the wish. He stays like that for a moment until his dad calls his name, and he clutches his pillow case as they head out the door.

Eddie assumes that the love and marriage talk is done for the evening, but the feeling of relief doesn’t last long. The trio of Munson men is halfway down the stairwell when Wayne starts instigating. “Hey, Har, is Ms. Sweetheart pretty?”

“WAYNE!” Eddie grits his teeth and shoots a sharp look at his uncle. The last thing he needs is for Harris to get his hopes up about a blossoming romance between his dad and his former teacher.

“Oh, yeah!” Harris gleefully agrees, oblivious to the mounting tension. He grips the railing and jumps from the second to last step onto the tiled landing below. “Super pretty! Like a princess.”

The eldest Munson turns to Eddie. “Didja hear that? Pretty like a princess.”

“I heard him,” Eddie replies tersely.

“Daddy?”

No. Don’t ask me. Harris Wayne Munson, do not ask me what I think you’re going to—

“Do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty?”

Although he anticipated the question, Eddie still freezes. If he disagrees, Harris will inevitably want to know why not. And if he’s being honest with himself, he can’t name a single ugly thing about you.

He does think you’re pretty. He thinks you’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. And even though he’s literally seen you naked, fully on display for him–a memory he revisits more often than he’s willing to admit–it’s the thought of what you did today that solidifies your beauty. The way you’d effortlessly calmed Harris down without Eddie even having to ask. The frown on his face almost instantly became a smile, the flow of his tears ceasing and turning into the giggles that brought sunlight into Eddie’s life. You did that.

Any woman can be sexy, but you? In that moment, you were perfect.

Fuck.

“Daddy? Hello?”

At the sound of Harris’s voice, Eddie realizes that he physically hasn’t moved from his spot on the stairs. His hand is gripping the banister so tightly that it leaves an imprint in his palm. “Yeah, buddy,” he manages through his Sahara Desert throat. “I think Ms. Sweetheart’s pretty.”

“Like a princess?” Wayne’s eyes twinkle mischievously. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to tease his nephew about a crush, and he’s not passing up this limited opportunity.

“Yeah. Like a princess.”

Education outsiders might think that Halloween is one of the worst days to be a teacher. The lethal combination of sugar and excitement barely contained in tiny costumed bodies seems like a recipe for disaster. But any teacher worth their salt will tell you that there is a day far, far worse than Halloween: November 1st.

On Halloween, there is the expectation for fun. There’s a costume parade, classroom trick-or-treating, and even a little party. The kids are out of control, but who cares? It’s Halloween.

But on November 1st, there is work to be done. And you’re expected to teach the months of the year to 10 four-year-olds who are suffering from candy hangovers and won’t stop asking why they can’t go trick-or-treating again today.

You and Will are preparing for battle as students trickle in, excited to show off the candy stashes they acquired the night before. Abby Carver cries because she ate her Reese’s cup and now she’s sad that it’s gone. Joshua Harrington is continuing to “sling webs” at the other kids despite your incessant reminders that he is no longer Spider-Man. A fight over a KitKat bar breaks out not even five minutes into the day, and you confiscate it before someone causes serious bodily harm.

Two fingers lightly tap on your shoulder—too high up to be a kid—and you whirl around with an irritated, “what?”

“Whoa,” Eddie says, concern etched into his otherwise soft features. He takes a small step back, nearly tripping over a rogue Lego that somehow made its way out of the toy area. He stumbles but catches his balance easily. “Everything okay?”

“‘S a warzone out here,” you try and joke, but you feel it fall flat. You’re too tired for humor. Grandma may not have yelled at the trick-or-treaters like you’d feared, but she did get increasingly angrier with each knock on the door. After the fifth time of her snarling at you to “shut the hell up” (like you could simultaneously be on both sides of the door), you’d relented and just put the candy bowl on the welcome mat, scribbling “TAKE ONE” on a yellow sticky note, adhering it to the plastic container.

Two decades earlier, Halloween at Grandma’s house had a completely different connotation. She’d have a little pizza party all set up for you, and she’d buy a big bag of your favorite candy, in case you didn’t get enough during your door-to-door quests. And she’d always let you watch whatever spooky movie your heart desired, regardless of your parents’ rules.

“That’s what grandmas are for,” she’d said with a wink, and the two of you curled up to watch Little Shop of Horrors. Her demeanor matched the hokey magnet on her fridge that read, If I knew how fun my grandkids would be, I would’ve had them first. You’d stay like that until you both fell asleep, only being roused by your parents arriving to pick you up. The good old days, before Grandma waking up involved watching the confusion in her eyes as she tried and failed to place you.

“C-Can I help you with something?” Your guard goes up immediately when you notice that Harris isn’t with him. The time you’d spent together after school yesterday had been nice, fun, even, but you couldn’t trust that today would be the same. Not after what happened a few short weeks ago.

“I, um…I just swung by to give you this.” He reaches into the inner pocket of his denim jacket; it’s the same one that he lent to Harris when he’d forgotten his at home. A flash of yellow paper catches your eye, and he unfurls his palm to reveal a small bag of peanut M&Ms. “You said they were one of your favorites, right?”

You look at the treat, not willing to reach out and grab it. What if it’s a joke? An elaborate ploy to reel you in, just to shout “gotcha” when you finally let your walls come down?

“Are they poisoned or something?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you spike them with Ex-Lax?”

Eddie’s lips part in surprise before he collects himself. “Guess I deserve that,” he mumbles. “But, no. They’re not. I swear on James Hetfield’s life.” He drags his fingernail over his heart in an X-formation.

You take the bag, inspecting it for any sign of tampering, but you come up short. The edges are sealed, and there are no pinpricks as far as your eyes can see. “Dipped into Harris’s stash for me?”

“Hey, these bad boys are technically mine for the taking until he figures out that he can eat them without dying.” Eddie chuckles lightly, peering at you through impossibly long lashes. “But, yeah, I was hoping you’d accept these as part of my apology. Or apologies, I guess. For, uh, for not calling when I said I would, and all of the awful shi—awful things I said to you.” His voice is barely above a whisper as he steps closer and says, “I am so fucking sorry.”

You make a small tear in the bag, tapping it against your palm until an M&M falls out. Popping the blue candy in your mouth, you allow the shell to start dissolving on your tongue before crunching on the peanut, hoping you can process what he’s said by the time you’re finished chewing.

This is what you’ve been waiting for—an actual heartfelt apology. His brown eyes reflect nothing but shame and remorse, and you can tell by the way that he’s fidgeting with his rings that he’s anxiously awaiting your reply.

His vulnerability softens you slightly, and considering you haven’t keeled over after ingesting the candy, you throw him a bone.

“This fun size bag covers the ‘not calling’ part, but I’m gonna need a lot more candy if you want me to forgive you for what you said at the music store.” You keep your tone light; teasing, even, but there’s a layer of truth to it. He can’t merely waltz into your classroom with a gift and expect you to forget his hurtful words.

Eddie nods, his frizzy curls brushing the tops of his denim-clas shoulders. “I know. I’ve said some pretty terrible things in my life, but that might’ve been the worst. And, um,” he fumbles his words, desperately searching for the right ones. Semantics has never been his forte. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s not true; your grandma didn’t want to forget you. And…neither do I.” When you raise your eyebrows, he starts to backtrack. “Because you’re so great with Harris; like, you understand him and stuff. He’s always talking about you.”

Daddy, do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty? The question replays like a song he can’t shake from his head, its melody familiar but the notes still keeping him on edge. Pretty like a princess, only instead of saving her, I’m the one who needs to be rescued. So much for Prince Charming, huh?

The M&M melts in your mouth while you formulate a response to his candid admission. Sweetness seeps into your taste buds as you try to straddle the line between careful consideration and overthinking. Speak too quickly and you might say something you’ll regret. Take too long and you’ll make this even more awkward.

“W-Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Short, simple, to the point. Your words are slightly slurred by the candy obstruction, but what else is there to say? You could add that you forgive him, but you’re truthfully not sure that you do. His words scarred, had taken your already mangled self-worth and snapped it into pieces, and so did his reasoning for hurting you. Despite the love and kindness you’d shown his son, Eddie had fully believed that you were responsible for spreading personal information that would wound him. It was exactly as Jeff had said: Eddie struck below the belt at the first sign of conflict, so determined to protect himself that he didn’t even realize that he was attacking the people on his side.

The sound of books clattering to the floor snatches your attention from him, and you whip your head to your little classroom library to see two kids standing over a pile of fallen books, guilty looks stamped on their faces. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurt out, dashing off to assess the damage. You’ve never been so grateful for your students causing mischief.

The hour hand crawls to the number two; at one point, you swore the clock was moving backwards. The chaos of the morning was only a preview of the rest of the day’s fiascos, but you and Will had navigated as best as you could.

“Jesus,” he murmurs once the kids have all been dismissed, gingerly rubbing his temples, “that was brutal. I can handle the day after Halloween; I can handle Fridays, but when they coincide? Nope, never again.” He slumps into a chair dramatically, letting his arms drape over the sides.

“Gonna have a glass of wine when you get home?” you joke, wiping Play-Doh residue from a tabletop.

Will nods. “Or a whole bottle.” His focus shifts to your desk, and he nods his chin in that direction. “I see you have something to look forward to tonight, too.”

You follow his gaze, widening your eyes when you see the object he’s referring to. A bag of peanut M&Ms–much bigger than the one you’d inhaled this morning–sits on top of your desk calendar; resting next to it is a cassette. You walk over, curiosity getting the better of you. The cassette is Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction; you recognize the iconic cover as soon as it comes into view. It’s not your usual music choice, but you’ll listen to almost anything.

There’s a piece of paper taped to the giant yellow M&M bag, folded in equal triads. Messily scrawled across the front in black ink is Ms. Sweetheart. You gently pull the adhesive loose and open the letter, nervously running your forefinger across the irregular edge where it was obviously torn from a composition notebook.

Fun size mistake=fun size bag of candy

Family size mistake=family size bag of candy

I’m really good at fucking things up, but really bad at fixing them. I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to hurt you, but we both know that I did.

You don’t have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am.

-Eddie

P.S. Not sure if hard rock is your thing, but I saw this at work and it reminded me of the kindness you showed our favorite little Axl Rose yesterday.

“Who’s it from?” Will asks, breaking into your thoughts. “A secret admirer?” He brings his clasped hands to his cheek in mock dreaminess.

You manage a laugh as you fold the note back up and tuck it under the calendar. “If it is, he’s really bad at it, because he signed his name.” When did he even sneak in here to do this? Kind of scary that someone could walk in and you didn’t even notice.

“Aha! So it is a guy!” Will pumps his fist triumphantly, though you’re not quite sure what he thinks he’s won.

“Just Eddie Munson, thanking us for letting Harris draw here yesterday.”

It’s not a total lie, but Will sees right through it. “Uh-huh. Thanking us? So that note is also for me? Can I read it?” He starts towards your desk, outstretched hand reaching towards where you’d tried to hide it, but you playfully swat them away.

You glance at the clock and frown. “If you leave a little early, I won’t tell anyone.”

Will flips you off; over the last two months, you two had developed a sibling-esque relationship that came out more once the kids had left for the day. He grabs his backpack from the supply closet and slings it over his shoulders. “You’re lucky I’m exhausted, or I’d stick around and keep bothering you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, knowing full well that he’s itching to leave regardless. “Gotta save up your energy for when Marshall visits.”

Will blushes at the mention of his long-distance boyfriend’s name. He still wasn’t out to many people, but when you’d casually mentioned the date Jess had with a girl named Robin, he’d felt comfortable opening up to you. “I can’t wait!” His grin is so wide you swear it’ll stretch right off of his face. “Thanks again; you’re the best.”

That leaves you alone with your gigantic bag of candy, a Guns N’ Roses cassette, and an apology that you have no idea what to do with.

Once again, Eddie Munson has given you more questions than answers.

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dfortrafalgar · 2 months

Text

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader)

Red-Leg Zeff wakes up to surprising visitors.

You can read Part 1 here! Original AO3 link

Days on the open ocean were long and monotonous. It was a decent struggle to keep track of the sunrises and sunsets, but Red-Leg Zeff had developed a system, very recently at that.

Next to a parchment letter and three photographs he nailed to the wall of his captain’s quarters, he tacked up a separate piece of paper and made a tally mark for each day that passed since he received the small parcel. Each day that went by was another day of inwardly hoping to see the image of the Thousand Sunny off the deck of the Baratie. It was wishful thinking, and Zeff was a level-headed man, not one for futile hopes or daydreaming, but could you blame him? He had a grandchild and a daughter-in-law, all things considered, anyway.

The three photographs that Sanji had sent in the package were what greeted him every time he awoke, and were the last images he saw behind his eyelids as he shut in for sleep. As the days turned into weeks, and then months, and now well over a year according to his tallies, and as Zeff’s braided facial hair continued to slowly turn gray at the roots, the pictures stayed the same.

Like clockwork, Zeff rose from his stiff mattress before the sun rose in the morning, stretching his aging muscles and groaning. He gazed off across the room at the photos hung on his wall.

“Good morning, Sa–”

“CAPTAIN ZEFF, YOU’RE NEEDED ON THE BOW.”

Patty’s booming voice outside the thin wooden door sent a startled shockwave through Zeff. He jumped and yelped at the commotion. Followed by the command, a pounding on the door caused the blonde man to grumble and stomp across his small cabin towards the noise. He swung open the door, right before Patty threw his fist into the wood for the hundredth time.

“What in the fresh hell do you want? You’re gonna wake up the whole crew, you oaf.” Zeff rubbed two calloused fingertips against the bridge of his wrinkled nose.

Eagerly, with a light in his eyes, Patty waved a hand in the direction of the ship’s bow. “There’s a large vessel spotted approaching from northwest, about ten miles away. It looks like a pirate ship but we couldn’t make out the image on the sail.”

Zeff stepped into his one boot and rolled up his pants around his peg-leg, making it easier for him to walk. He firmly gripped his chef’s cap in his hand as he marched past Patty and closed his door behind the two of them, leading him out to the front of the Baratie. It took them a few moments to roam down the flights of stairs to the lower deck and dining hall, and upon opening the large double doors to the outer deck, he spotted his kitchen crew huddled around Carne, who firmly gripped a pair of binoculars in his large hands.

“What are you all doing?” Zeff’s voice boomed over the hushed whispers of the kitchen staff, who quickly turned their heads to address their captain. He pushed past the men and placed a firm hand on Carne’s shoulder, yanking him back slightly and grabbing the binoculars out of his hands, holding them up to his own eyes.

“It’s definitely a pirate ship, Captain, but my eyes are shot,” Carne eagerly noted. Zeff merely grumbled in response.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the binocular lenses, but when they did he managed to make out a fairly clear picture of a ship in the distance, now well less than ten miles away and approaching quite rapidly. Definitely a large pirate ship. It had a very odd looking nautical figurehead, almost like a sunflower he assumed, but his heart leaped into his throat when his blurry eyes focused on the primary sail which flowed outward, fully unraveled and pushing the vessel towards the Baratie.

A simple Jolly Roger, a rudimentary skull and crossbones design, with a peculiar red-banded straw hat placed on the head of the skull.

“Should we man the–” Patty began to ask, before being cut off by Zeff.

“It’s the Straw Hats. Prepare the mooring ropes and fenders, they’re going to tie up to us.” Zeff shoved the binoculars back into the chest and hands of Carne, who once again put them to his face and gazed at the sail of the ship. The rest of the kitchen staff ran to awaken the boat crew and make the necessary preparations for a vessel connection.

“Sanji?” Patty simply asked, with sudden wonder in his voice.

“Hopefully,” Carne responded, passing the binoculars to his coworker. “It’s definitely them. Look at their Jolly Roger.”

Zeff had turned his back to his two right-hand men to help the others prepare the baratie’s starboard side for the tie-up. Crew men, freshly shaken awake from their slumbers, bustled around the lower deck tossing heavy, tightly coiled ropes to each other, tying them around the deck’s bollards and laying them down to make them easier to access when the Thousand Sunny would pull up alongside. Zeff quickly found that there wasn’t much for him to do, the sight of his crew excitedly scurrying around as the news of the Straw Hats’ return to the Baratie spread like wildfire from the mouths of the men bringing a fond smile to the old man’s face.

Now within enough distance to the Straw Hats’ ship that they could hear the excited yelling of their captain perched cross-legged on the top of the figurehead, waving his hand in the air. A few of the other crew members leaned over the side of the ship, excitedly waving to the Baratie crew. Once close enough, a large, strangely built blue-haired man launched a heavy rope from the deck of the Sunny downwards towards the Baratie’s crew, who grabbed it and began to pull it taught. An orange-haired woman (Zeff thought she looked familiar) instructed the sails to be furled while the larger men of the ship helped the Baratie’s sailors moor the two vessels together. A few stragglers from the floating restaurants crew looked through their portholes at the commotion. Carne and Patty assisted the blue-haired man (were his arms made of metal?) in raising a gangway for the Straw Hats to board the Baratie, but their captain, still donned in the same straw hat that he wore when they first visited the luxury cruiser, wasted no time in launching himself off of the figurehead and landing with a hard thud on the wooden deck.

“Hey, Geezer!” His smile almost covered his entire face. “Do you have any food?”

“Luffy, seriously? Can you not wait a single minute?”

A familiar voice caused Zeff to turn his head. Through the hustle of the crews finishing their mooring duties, a head of bright blonde hair and a thin trail of gray smoke met the old chef’s view. He immediately broke out into a fond smile. Sanji was leaning precariously over the side of the Sunny, any more and he would tip over the side, a large grin on his face. Next to him was a young woman, a bit shorter than him, with a steady hand placed on his shoulder ensuring that he didn’t fall overboard. She gazed down at Zeff, and her face broke into a grin just as large as Sanji’s.

He recognized her as the woman in the photographs. She was just as beautiful in person.

The gangway was successfully tied, joining the two boats together, and the two first mates excitedly welcomed the Straw Hats aboard the Baratie. The four who had already visited almost five years prior marveled at the impressive renovations done to the vessel. New decks, refurbished dining and lounging, impressive paintwork on the outer hull. The same blue-haired man from before (his arms were made of metal!) was starstruck by the craftsmanship of the restaurant and immediately began asking questions to a few of the crewmen. A green-haired man with three swords on his hip and a shorter man with curly black hair greeted Carne and Patty with excitement, remembering the two of them from their first visit. The two women from the Straw Hats, with tangerine and black hair, quickly exited the gangway and joined their companions. Zeff watched curiously as a skeleton donned in formalwear hauled himself over the side of the Sunny, followed by a fishman. The Straw Hats were a very curious bunch, but he was filled with a giddy, child-like joy at the sight of them all, healthy, fit, and just as excited as his own crew was for the surprise reunion.

Sanji and his wife disappeared from the side of the Sunny, but quickly reappeared. Sanji was the first to step onto the gangway before turning around and taking something from his wife, who swiftly followed his lead. She looked like a natural on the water, and Zeff hummed, pleased. Sanji turned around to march down the ramp, a child held in his arms, tightly gripping his shirt in her fist. The two were the last to disembark, and immediately headed toward the Baratie's captain, who stood in mild shock as the three approached.

Sanji passed the child back to his wife so he could greet Zeff with a handshake, but he was beaten by the captain’s speed as he enveloped the smaller man in a bear hug, almost lifting him off his feet.

“Sanji,” he muttered, voice quivering. “You look incredible.”

“Hey, no crying on me now, Zeff,” Sanji returned the gesture in kind, squeezing his adopted father back and jostling the hat on the older man’s head.

The two released their warm embrace, and Sanji held out a hand towards his wife and the child in her arms. The woman stepped forward with a warm smile.

“Red-Leg Zeff, it’s an honor to finally meet you!” she said with profound enthusiasm before introducing herself. “Sanji’s been talking nonstop about this visit and how excited he’s been to see you again!”

Sanji flushed, embarrassed, but Zeff could only muster a hardy laugh. He remembered Sanji as a stubborn, hard-to-crack kid, endlessly determined and stopping at nothing to get his way, and the man who stood before him was all of that and more. He was gazing tenderly at his wife, cheeks rosy with embarrassment and adoration, a smile adorning his thin lips. Zeff was beyond proud of the man Sanji had become.

“So, who’s this little one?” he asked, cautiously approaching the child in the woman’s arms. His heart fluttered at the sight of her.

She had wavy, strawberry blonde hair and her dad’s ocean-blue eyes. A mixture of her mom and dad’s skin tone, and she was clearly developing Sanji’s facial features. The right corners of her eyebrows had a very slight upward curl. She was beautiful, and her large eyes gazed curiously at Zeff as he approached.

“Sora, this is your grandfather,” the woman said affectionately. “Say hi!” She bounced the baby on her hip.

When she came to the infantile conclusion that Zeff was indeed not a threat, her chubby cheeks wrinkled with a smile revealing a few barely there baby teeth. Zeff held out one of his thick, calloused fingers, and she eagerly reached for the man. Sanji’s wife passed the baby, Sora, over to him, and he held her like a delicate porcelain pot, like she could break at any moment. Sanji watched the action fondly.

“Her name is Sora, she’s almost two now,” he said, his voice light and airy, almost a whisper.

Zeff bounced Sora, his granddaughter, in his arms, and she released a shrill giggle which brought a smile to his face. “Sora…” He knew that was Sanji’s late mother’s name. It seemed only natural that his daughter would take the honor of bearing her name. “She’s beautiful,” he sighed, looking at his son and daughter-in-law.

Sanji looked like he was fighting back tears at the sight of his honorary father holding his daughter. His wife gently squeezed his hand, and the floodgates leaked, making her chuckle.

“He’s been a bit nervous,” she said toward Zeff.

The gruff captain stepped toward his son and ruffled his smooth blonde hair in his free hand. Sanji sniffled, picking his head up and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. His shoulders trembled slightly with the motion of his repressed crying, but he quickly shoved it down and locked eyes with the fatherly ones staring at him. Zeff didn’t need to ask any questions to know how much a moment like this meant to Sanji. A child so wronged by his family and the world, growing up with no purpose, no encouragement, losing the one source of love in his life, forced to age so rapidly to survive some of the worst experiences a human should ever have to face. To have been blessed with a crew that cared for him, fulfilling his dreams, practicing his passion, meeting one special woman who loved and supported him, and being the father of his own child, Sanji was finally content. He was finally happy, finally content.

Zeff’s voice cracked as he uttered the sentence that he knew would make Sanji crumble. “I’m so proud of you, son. Look at how far you’ve come.”

Sanji’s blue eyes welled with tears that he had been holding in since his own childhood. The commotion from the rest of the two crews faded into a muffled static as Zeff pulled Sanji’s head into his chest, holding him close. Sora’s hand lightly smacked the top of Sanji’s hair, making him laugh, but it came out as a crackled sob. His wife laughed, rubbing his back.

“I didn’t want to cry,” he uttered into Zeff’s chest, voice blank with slight resentment.

“It was inevitable,” you responded with a humorous lilt.

“I know.” He easily relented to your words, picking his head up from Zeff and placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, giving it a firm smack. “Sorry for getting your shirt all wet, old man.”

Zeff’s chest bounced with the force of his laughter. “You’re gonna pay for it, kid. You’re on dish duty.”

Sanji’s mouth fell open in a panicked retaliation, but after realizing Zeff was, in fact, joking around, his tense shoulders fell in relief. Sora reached back out toward her mom, who took her from Zeff’s grasp leaving both his hands free again. He was able to deliver a quick, encouraging slap on Sanji’s back.

“I do expect you to help prepare this feast, though. Show me how much you’ve improved since you left.” He winked at his son. “Though, I doubt you improved that much.”

“Shut up, old man! I’ll make you the best feast you’ve ever laid eyes on. A feast that could kill you!” Old habits die hard, and the family meandered towards the rest of the crew, who were now milling around the lower dining hall excited for a meal to celebrate the Straw Hats’ return, and Zeff’s new granddaughter.

Zeff clapped his hands, alerting his own crew, who frantically took their places around the ship to cater to their pirate guests. He quickly made his way into his kitchen, rustling through the main pantry for a piece of equipment he hadn’t needed to use in a very long time. He pulled out a small food processing machine, equipped with an internal blade perfect for mashing fruits and small vegetables.

“Captain, do you need anything?” Patty was rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands in the large wash basin.

“All the fresh fruit we have. The kid doesn’t have teeth yet, she needs some mush.”

#fem reader #reader insert #x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #special delivery #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader

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onyxopossum · 9 months

Text

Part 2 Buggy the Clown x Reader : A Hostage Situation

Part 2 of Buggy the Clown x reader where the reader gets taken hostage.

☆☆☆

NOTE: Link to Part 3.1 - Link to 3.2 is listed on 3.1 Description.

–

You started to come to your senses as the sound of circus music sang in your ears, and the noises of others cheering and talking amongst themselves became clear around you. You groaned and tried to open your eyes, but your vision was blurred, which made the room itself seem to spin. You tried to stretch out your arms to steady yourself, but you realized your hands were bound together above your head rope tied to what seemed like a wooden wall and platform. Your ankles were also tied together, making it difficult to move your legs at all. You closed your eyes again, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, wakey wakey-"

The pirate captain was in front of you, his gloved hand tapped your cheeks harder than you would have preferred, but it caused you to grit your teeth before you opened your eyes again. The pirate captain noticed you opened your eyes before he jumped back in an over dramatic display of giddiness and clasped his hands together.

"Finally! Thought you'd just sleep through the rehearsal, huh?"

The room stopped spinning long enough for you to get a better look at the man who had taken you hostage; his orange coat and hat were missing but instead he wore a red and white striped bandana, had a painted on red smile, crossbones across his forehead, and a large, clown-like red nose. The captain's giddiness was quickly replaced with an annoyed frown before he approached you again. His face was inches from yours as he seemed to be studying your face.

"Thought you could be sneaky around me, the great Buggy the clown? Did you think you had a chance against us with this?"

Buggy held up your knife before he took a step back and chuckled. Suddenly he threw the knife at the wall you were bound to, the knife stuck into the wall next to your face. Your eyes widened, a scream got caught in your throat as you stared wide eyed at Buggy.

His wild laughter filled the room, "You should see the look on your face! Ha! Now that's funny!"

He wiped a tear from his eye before he grabbed the knife from the wooden wall and started to tap the handle to his chin, "you know, I was going to have the other freaks use you in their side act tonight, but I've changed my mind. I have something better planned."

You looked at him, your voice finally returned, "what…" you swallowed hard, "what do you want with me?"

Buggy pointed the knife under your chin, before he trailed down your throat, and stopped at your chest. The expression on your face was a mix of fear and uncertainty of what this clown pirate wanted from you.

"If I told you, that'd ruin the surprise." Buggy whispered, his eyes piercing into yours.

There was an eerie moment of silence between the two of you. After he moved the knife away, you jolted forward and tried to tear yourself out of your bindings, even though it was useless.

Buggy recoiled back from you pretending to be shocked before he grabbed your chin to force you to look at him, "so you have some fight in you after all… good."

He let go of your chin and turned on his heel away from you.

He started to walk away, "Curtain call is in one hour."

You watched Buggy walk away and as soon as he was out of sight your body slumped in the bindings as you cursed to yourself. This was not how you planned your day was going to go, not in the slightest. However you realized you were being held hostage by Buggy the Clown and what seemed like being forced to perform as part of his circus pirating act.

Time dragged slowly, and no one paid any attention to you. You had an hour–or so you hoped–to think of a way to get out of the situation. You tested the strength of your bindings again, and as you thought, they were a secure knot. However, the wood was rough against the rope. If you could weaken the rope with the wood, then maybe you could escape whatever Buggy had planned for you. It was worth a shot, so for the next hour, you rubbed the rope binding your hands together against the wood.

You were not sure how much time passed until you began to see Buggy's crew scattering about everywhere. You were tired and visibly sweating but you were not about to give up, not now. Using whatever strength you had left, you pulled and the rope crackled and tore apart. Your arms heavily fell down in front of you now free from their binding. Without wasting any time you bent down and tried to untie the knot holding your ankles together.

As the knot became loose enough to move your legs apart, you heard footsteps rapidly approach you. You quickly gathered together the torn rope bindings from earlier and made it appear you were still bound to the wall. Your heart was beating so hard and loud you thought it was going to burst; you held your breath to try and calm down. The footsteps stopped behind you before the wooden platform started moving. You were calm on the outside but screamed on the inside. You had to make sure you kept your balance and did not give yourself away as the platform moved over the uneven ground.

You were pushed to the center ring of the show. The spotlight was on Buggy as he laughed and held up a bunch of knives. You looked around and saw all of the townspeople in the audience, as well as an "applause" sign being held by one of the pirate crew. It was not long before Buggy's attention was turned towards you. His voice rose as he extended a hand.

"Give a round of applause for our newest act! Hand picked for your entertainment!"

The "applause" sign was raised as whispers were heard with the unenthusiastic clapping from the audience. Buggy grinned before beginning to throw daggers at the wall behind you. Each knife hit in a different spot around you but missed hitting you each time. You were emotionless, which started to irritate Buggy.

After he threw his last knife, he turned to face the audience, which was when you decided to act. You dropped your arms, grabbed one of the knives stuck in the wall, and threw it back at Buggy. The audience gasped as the knife barely missed Buggy and pierced the ground a few feet in front of him. Just as fast as you had thrown the knife, Buggy's detached hand was clamped around your throat, choking the life out of you.

"Well… well… well… isn't this a surprise."

Buggy's words oozed slowly and dangerously.

"You didn't tell me you were such a great escape artist."

Your hands clawed at Buggy's hand on your throat, but he only tightened his grip. He walked closer to you with an amused expression, and his eyes locked onto you. Once he reached you, his hand attached back to his arm before he pushed you hard against the wooden wall. You groaned and let your arms fall to your sides. The impact made you see stars for a moment before all you could do was stare at Buggy, and he stared right back.

His grip on your throat loosened, "I haven't figured out if you're that smart or just that plain stupid." He turned his head to the side and hummed, "Still," he paused and clicked his tongue to his cheek, "someone with your-" Buggy made hand gestures in the air, "-skills could be useful, entertaining even…" Buggy stopped inches from your face before he whispered, "So, what do you say, join my crew?"

You were shocked; did managing to escape actually save your life even if that meant becoming a circus pirate? You narrowed your eyes at Buggy but nodded.

Your voice was strained, "Fine. I'll join."

Buggy looked more amused by the second before his voice got suddenly loud again,"Huh? I can't hear you, what was that?"

His ear detached and flew close to your mouth.

You grit your teeth, "I said, I'll join your crew."

Buggy released the hold on your throat as you gasped for air and coughed. Drained from everything that happened to you today, you slumped to the ground on your knees. Buggy's ear reattached as he turned to the audience and bowed as if his performance had ended. The spotlight turned off, and the lights in the tent lit up. The pirate crew began to clean up. Buggy looked down at you before roughly pulling you to your feet. You awkwardly stumbled out of the knot that was holding your feet together, which caused Buggy to click his tongue.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You're gonna have to work on that. No use just freeing your hands when you'd trip over your own feet." His smile turned to a frown, "Mohji!"

A man with a white fur top and teddy bear hat scrambled to where you and Buggy were standing, "Y-yes Captain?"

Buggy pushed you into Mohji, "Go get them cleaned up. Starting tomorrow they'll learn what it means to be part of the Buggy pirates."

–

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