݁⋆⭒˚.⋆ just a little sneak peek for a fic I'm currently working on~ if you want to be tagged when it drops, leave a comment!
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
There are men in this world who believe they can cheat death. Perhaps they are born lucky, with the gods and stars watching above to guide their path. They succeed at their dreams easily, reaching heights previously unimaginable. These kind of people are marked as geniuses, true talents, men that grin in the face of danger and laugh despite it all.
And then, there are men who fly too close to the sun, their ambitions growing truly larger than life. They believe themselves gods, impenetrable and undefeatable, but, the higher they soar, they greater their downfall. There are those like the ancient story of Prometheus, a man who openly defied and mocked the gods of the old world, and in return, his punishment knew no bounds. Doomed to suffer eternally, chained to a rock and helpless as talons ripped at his flesh day after day.
But these men? These men, in all their wits and speed, in all their cunning and agility, they underestimated their opponent. And thus, their downfall became inevitable, their fates re-aligned and doomed them to become a night-time story, spoken about in hushed tones of warning in the same breath as Prometheus. They had overlooked just how much Buggy the Clown and his crew had truly cared for you, and what lines they were willing to cross to get you back.
Warnings: Reader-Insert, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Reader-Insert, Buggy had a Rough Day, Soft Buggy, Reader is the crew’s sailmaker, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sappy Pet Names, Kissing, Shoulder Massages, Cookies
Summary: After a rough day on the stormy seas, you decide to pamper and spoil Buggy in hopes of lifting his spirits. Sappiness and cuddles ensue.
A/N: Marineford utterly destroyed me, so I wrote some domestic fluff to make myself feel better!! Not a super fleshed-out story, but just enough to get me to stop ugly crying over One Piece lmao. Hope you enjoy!!
—————
“Lovely” was not a word often used to describe your partner. His crew would sooner label him many other things— brash, temperamental, arrogant, and maybe even calculating, when he so desired to be. Never lovely, though.
That was reserved just for you, his special star. He had been over the moon to announce your relationship to the crew, and he was not at all shy in his affections. Your kisses in particular were like a drug to Buggy, one that he would never be able to quit. He took every chance he could to kiss you, frequently detaching his head and sending it your direction for a quick peck as he passed by. The crew saw it constantly, turning to address him only to find him headless. They would frequently find him missing a hand as well, only to later spot it holding yours tight. He especially loved doing that during meetings and meal times.
You wondered to yourself if he had some kind of secret exhibitionist kink or something, because he seemed even more forward in his affections when others were around. The sight of anyone else ogling you was more than enough for him to pull you close, capturing your lips in a heated kiss for all to see. One hand would busy itself with roaming your body, squeezing every curve appreciatively while his other hand flipped off the idiot who dared to look at his beloved. Whether it was exhibitionism, jealousy, or just Buggy being his usual dramatic and flashy self, you didn’t mind the extra attention one bit.
You were proud to call him your man, and you loved him as much as the sky was blue.
As forward as he was around others, you saw a completely different side of him in the privacy of your bedroom. The cocky man the crew saw dissolved into a needy mess when it was just the two of you, eager to be spoiled and pampered. You loved brushing his hair, running your fingers through the silky blue strands and massaging his scalp. He made the sweetest little noises when you did that, melting into your arms with a blissful grin.
You loved most of all when you could kiss him in private. The stresses of a long day on the seas melted away when you pressed your lips to his, finally alone and able to unwind. He would quite literally fall to pieces right into your lap, his head cradled in your hands while the rest of him would practically try to fit into your clothes with you in an effort to be closer. There was no better feeling than watching him flush red as you whispered sweet nothings against his lips, each soft declaration of love rendering him a flustered mess. He would push back at first, insisting that “the Great Captain Buggy is not cute or lovely.” Then he would begin to bask in your praise, urging you to continue and complaining that “no one else understands my greatness like you do.” Finally, he would grow quiet or shut you up with a kiss, too overwhelmed to put on the high-and-mighty mask he wore so often.
Tonight was a bit different, though.
It had started as usual, with you waiting on him to come to your shared quarters at the end of the day. Today had been long and draining thanks to an unexpected storm cutting rehearsals short. It was a miracle that the stilt-walkers didn’t tumble overboard or that the sword-swallowers didn’t cut their throats open as the ship rocked, the harsh waves crashing against the hull while thunder rumbled in the darkening sky. Buggy took the reins the moment the storm hit, barking orders and rushing around to keep the Big Top from capsizing. If you hadn’t been so busy pulling the sails up and ensuring you’d live to see another day, you certainly would have been admiring how hot your lover looked when he was in full-on captain mode.
The entire crew was exhausted and soaked to the bone by the time the storm passed, but at least you were alive to complain about it. As soon as he caught sight of you, Buggy had urged you to go and dry off while he made sure the rest of the ship was in order. Being the captain’s partner sure had its perks— you couldn’t help but grin all the way back to your spacious room complete with a big, comfy bed and plenty of privacy to change into some dry clothes.
But here you were now, dried off and still all alone. You had taken your time too, but Buggy still wasn’t back. The storm must have been worse than you thought. You quickly set to work with tidying the room a bit, a small act to make his life a little easier for his return. The bed is made and the pillows are fluffed, the haphazard pile of maps on his desk neatly tucked away for later.
Still, nothing.
You almost start to worry before the door dramatically slams open to reveal your one and only, just as soaked as you had been earlier. His makeup is running down his sneering expression and his pigtails flop pitifully from his hat, making him look more like a drenched cat than a fearsome pirate captain. He stomps into the room with a groan and slams the door shut behind him, and you offer your most patient smile. “Hey, Bug.” You greet gently, and he glances at you for only a moment before stomping his way to his wardrobe with a soft grunt of acknowledgement. The way his gloved hand comes to rest on his temple tells you everything to know. He’s got a headache after all the chaos, and understandably so, so you offer your support in the best way you can.
“I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Go ahead and get dried off.” Your voice is soft as you step toward the door, waiting for him to nod in acknowledgement before leaving the room to give him some privacy. Poor thing. You hated that he was feeling so rough— a bit of pampering was in order to ease his foul mood. You hurry to the kitchen while he gets dried off and changed, grabbing some painkillers and water along the way.
The kitchen is empty, you’re pleasantly surprised to find out, so you don’t have to sneak around when you reach into the back of a cabinet and pull out a small bag. You had been lucky enough to run across a nice bakery in the last village the crew had ransacked, and the owner was ever so gracious enough to discreetly fill a bag with cookies after you’d threatened to burn their beloved establishment to the ground. That bag snuck its way to a secret spot in the kitchen just for you, but tonight’s occasion warranted some sharing. Buggy would surely be pleased to find a sweet treat waiting on him, especially with everything else you had planned.
Now it was time to set it all in motion.
☆彡
“Buggy, my love?” You call softly, slowly creaking the door open to enter your shared quarters. You can hear a muffled grunt in response, and you smile softly when you see that he’s sprawled out on the bed with his face buried in a pillow, hair pulled into a ponytail and wearing only a pair of boxers with hearts all over them. So much of you wanted to pull him close and coo sweet nothings to him right away, but you needed to address that headache of his first. “I brought you some medicine,” you continue, shutting the door behind you before taking a seat next to him on the bed. “Some water, too. C’mon, love.” When he doesn’t reply, you set the cookies on the nearby nightstand and reach out to gently rub his shoulders.
Buggy groans as your hand slides over the warm flesh of his shoulders and upper back, coaxing him to roll over, sit up, and take the painkillers from your hand. He looks utterly exhausted, and you try your hardest to keep it casual for now as you offer him the water. Any doting right now could easily be misconstrued as pity thanks to his headache, so you’d have to wait until he was back to his usual flashy self to get sappy. He’s quick to knock back the medicine and gulp down some of the water, but he doesn’t immediately lie back down. Instead, he leans his head against your shoulder with a soft sigh.
You’re unable to hide the loving smile that crosses your lips— how lucky you are, to be his and to have him as yours. “Wanna cuddle while the meds kick in?” You offer, and he answers by pulling you down with him as he lays back on the pillows. You chuckle, happily snuggling up to him and allowing him to rest his head on your chest. He quickly tangles his limbs with yours, tossing a leg over your hip while his arms wrap around you and keep you close, and you pull the blanket up over the two of you. A comfortable silence falls over the room as he nuzzles into you, content to quietly share your warmth beneath the covers for a while.
☆彡
“Starlight?”
Buggy’s voice is low and drowsy as he softly calls for you. You yawn and blink the sleep away from your eyes— the two of you must have drifted off.
“Yes, honey?” You reply, yawning again.
He’s quiet for a moment, then you feel Buggy bury his face in your chest again. “…Was just seein’ if you were awake.” You chuckle, gently threading your fingers through his hair. It didn’t take a genius to know that his words meant “I want to spend time with you.” Luckily for him, you’re more than happy to oblige.
Your fingers gently massage his scalp, earning you a pleased sigh from him. “How’s your head?” You ask, testing the waters. When he smiles, you know that it’s time to put your little plan into action.
“Better,” he replies with a cocky grin, “as if a mere headache could take down the Buggy the Clown.” You smile back, deciding not to mention his less-than pleasant demeanor before the painkillers and snuggles. He was too cute. “Buuuuut,” he continues, snipping off a hand to float into your line of sight, “I’d be even better with one of those.” He points to the cookies on the nightstand, and you roll your eyes as your smile widens.
“Of course you would.” You tease, reaching to grab the bag. He huffs petulantly at that, trying and failing to snatch the bag from you.
“What’s that supposed to mean!”
You laugh, pushing him off of you and rolling out of bed. The bag of cookies is still tightly in your grasp, and you dangle it smugly in front of you while Buggy groans. “It doesn’t mean a thing, Love-Bug. Now lay on your stomach. You can have these after you follow my instructions.” He looks as though he wants to argue at first, but another glance at the cookies has Buggy obediently moving to do as you say. He looks mildly irritated as he looks back at you from his place on his stomach, rolling his eyes at your triumphant grin. “There’s a good jester.” You chuckle, taking a cookie out of the bag and handing it to him.
He scoffs as he snatches the cookie from your hand. “‘Good jester?’ I’m not some pet, y’know.”
“Oh, my bad.” You reply teasingly, crawling back onto the bed. “Would a massage make up for my insolence, oh brave and fearless captain of mine?” You position yourself right next to him, your hands already sliding up his back toward his tense shoulders.
He grins immediately, pleased to have his ego stroked. “A massage, hm? Coming from a pretty thing like you, I’d be insane to say no.” As soon as he gives his permission, he takes a bite of the cookie and your hands begin to move. Working with clothing and sails makes it easy for your dextrous hands to work out the knots in his shoulders, earning you a pleased groan from Buggy. “You’re not so bad at this,” he praises through a mouthful of cookie, “maybe I should get a new sailmaker and promote you to my personal masseuse.”You scoff playfully in reply, giving him a quick pinch between the shoulder blades. “Gah! Joking, joking!” He yelps, and you laugh before returning to massaging him.
“You can just ask for more massages, babe.” He merely huffs in reply and shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “So,” you change the subject, “wanna tell me about your day?”
At that, he bristles and lets out an exaggerated sound of displeasure. There’s a brief pause as he swallows, then the ranting begins.
“My day? My day? It sure as hell would’ve been a lot better if our navigator actually did their job! I walk out of a meeting to see that we’re headed straight into a storm!” His voice gets louder as he riles himself up, his shoulders tensing even more. “How do you get that close without realizing we need to change course?!”
You smile patiently, guiding him back to relaxation as your hands diligently work over his shoulders. “I was wondering why we were smack-dab in the middle of it. Sounds like they need a stern talking-to.”
“Oh, they’ll get much more than a talking-to. They should thank their lucky stars I haven’t already flashily tossed their ass overboard! That storm ruined my makeup!” He gestures wildly to his now-bare face with a scoff.
You have to hold back a snicker at the thought that he was more upset over ruined makeup than the storm itself. “Mhm. They’ll learn their lesson once you’re done with them, I’m sure.”
His scowl turns into a cocky grin as he nods, pointing his thumb at himself. “Of course they will, sweet thing. And if they don’t, I’ll just get a new navigator.”
“Of course, baby. Anything else happen today?” Buggy thinks for a moment, letting out a pleased sigh as you finally work out a particularly stubborn knot.
“Hmm…” He hums, popping off one hand to snatch another cookie from the bag. “Y’know, now that you mention it, I’ll have to deal with Mohji, too. Did you hear what he said today?”
You cock your head. “Yeah, what about it?” You glance over to where Buggy’s newest pair of flashy shoes sits, glittering bright red with golden laces. Mohji had been less than polite about his opinion on them, from what you had heard. Buggy had poorly applied the glitter himself, according to the beast tamer, which explained the specks of red glitter you had been finding all over the ship this past week.
“What about it? He was insulting my nose! He called it a garish red abomination! If we hadn’t been so focused on the damned storm, I would have wrung his neck!”
You sigh. As much as you adored him, Buggy truly had a horrible case of selective hearing. It often resulted in him hurting his own feelings over something that was never said in the first place, which made mentioning anything related to the color red a balancing act. It was funny at times, but the underlying insecurity always made your heart ache for him. “Love-Bug, you don’t think maybe he was talking about, I dunno… your new shoes, perhaps?”
Buggy “hmph”s before taking another bite. He’s quiet as he chews, and you wonder if maybe he’s taking your words into consideration before he blows up again. “Even if it was about my shoes, that’s no better! My shoes are flashy and perfect!” He huffs. “No one appreciates my artistic vision. Except you, maybe.”
You roll your eyes lovingly. “Thanks, Bug. And I’m sure Mohji was just messing with you— it’d be odd for him to comment on some clown shoes when he lives on a circus-themed ship.” Your reasoning seems to be enough to ease Buggy’s temper, and he nods in agreement.
“Fair point.” He clicks his tongue with mild irritation, letting out another huff. “Wouldn’t kill him to show some gratitude, though. It takes a lot of work to maintain our flashy theme!”
You chuckle at his complaint, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “No one works harder than you to keep our crew flashy and functional, Captain.” He beams at your praise.
“Damn straight!”
His signature laugh bubbles from his chest, loud and silly and perfect. When his laughter fades, there’s a brief pause. He fidgets with the cookie in his hand and his cheeks flush ever so slightly, his gaze darting around the room. Then, ever so slowly, he turns to finally look at you. His eyes don’t meet yours for more than a few moments at a time, and he clears his throat softly to get your attention.
“…Thanks for always listening to me, starlight. And for understanding, even when other people don’t.”
Your heart melts. “Aw, honey…” You coo, and he grumbles as he turns his head away again. His attempt to hide is futile, however, quickly foiled by your hands abandoning his shoulders in favor of grabbing his head and popping it off of his neck. The soft noise of surprise he makes is silenced when you press your mouth to his in a sweet kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against his lips. He’s bright red by the time you break the kiss, and you peck his lips one more time before putting his head back where it belongs. “Anything for my lovely clown.”
Buggy immediately begins to sputter, hiding his flushed face from your adoring gaze. “I am not lovely!” He argues, “I’m flashy! And fearsome!”
You giggle and lean down, throughly pleased by the way he shudders when your breath ghosts over his ear. “I dunno, honey… you’re pretty lovely to me.” You don’t miss the small whine that catches in his throat when you take his hands in yours, bringing each one to your lips to pepper them in kisses. You take your time, allowing your lips to brush over both palms, each finger, and every knuckle. “Your hands are quite lovely…” You trail your lips up his arm next, “and so are your strong arms. Roll over for me?”He obeys immediately, reduced to putty in your hands in record time. Now that he’s lying on his back, you take a quick moment to appreciate the view before continuing to shower him with kisses.
Your lips find his shoulders, then his neck. “Your shoulders and your neck are lovely, too.” His cheeks are next, hot and red as you kiss each one. “And how could I forget about your lovely face? Especially…” You smile and gently kiss his nose, “your perfect nose,” then your lips meet his with a final, lingering kiss. “And your oh-so-kissable lips.”
“Okay, okay!” Buggy finally yelps, his voice high and flustered as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you down against him. You can’t help but laugh at how flushed he is, and he huffs petulantly before burying his face against you. “I’ll have you know,” his arms tighten around you, “flattery isn’t enough to make me hand over the rest of my cookie.”
You can’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah? It’s not flattery if it’s the truth, Love-Bug. And,” you pluck the bag of remaining cookies from the nightstand and place it in his hand, “I don’t need cookies when I have you right here. Just as sweet, and ten times more delicious.” You shoot him a salacious wink, and he becomes even more of a mess.
His cheeks match the hue of his nose by now and he scoffs, a poor attempt to mask how utterly wrecked your simple affection has left him. He opens his mouth to give a witty retort, but nothing comes out aside from a little noise that’s equal parts adorable and amusing. He finally manages on his second try, “…You’re so sappy.”
“Perhaps,” you reply with a grin, “but you love it.”
He shoves a cookie into your hand with a fake-grumpy huff.
“Yeah, yeah… Love you, starlight.”
You beam and snuggle into him, pleased that your little plan to spoil him ended in success.
tbh if you are hot and sweaty after doing some chores, Buggy is gonna be all over you and make you even more hot and sweaty. 🥵 Don't bother cleaning up in between because he'll be disappointed you cleaned off the marinade.
warnings: swearing, zombie apocalypse, corrupt government, blackmail, abuse, descriptions of all those things, body horror? more to be added
synopsis: description below
Characters: Buggy, Reader, (everyone else is a secret for now.)
reader: description below
wc: undecided
a/n: I ofc don't own Resident Evil, its characters or concept, same goes for One Piece!
I'm super excited to start this fic! i will likely start posting it starting within the next two weeks or so as I focus in on this and a personal project! so keep an eye out and feel free to send in questions or suggestions!
also this post will be edited frequently, most likely through reblogs! but once I have my entire outline decided I will add all the extra info and make a proper master post for the series!
and to finish, this intro may have mistakes and grammar issues in it! sorry!!
now enjoy! and cheers!🎉✨🎉✨🎉
~•~•~•~•~•~
You: Are a stylish journalist, clicking your pen impatiently as you wait in the Reindeer City police department for an interview with the chief regarding rumors of unethical experiments in the area.
☆
Buggy: Is in a holding cell, waiting to be questioned about the museum heist he was just caught conducting. But there are some really strange noises coming from the room next to his and he's getting desperate to leave.
☆
While you search for answers about the sudden apocalypse that has taken over the city and try to connect it to your life's work, Buggy is getting less and less confident that there's an exit in this hell hole. You work together more by accident than anything and at the end of this horribly long night you wonder if you can get the job done without him.
~•~•~•~•~•~
This dialogue and scenario may change in the final product! But for now enjoy your first meeting with Buggy in the fic, as a treat!
the teaser is 1.7k words :)
~•~•~•~•~•~
The first thing the room does is stink. Its rotted stench of decay, shit, and blood chokes you near tears as you push the wooden door open.
The second thing the room does is startle you, sure you were worried about running into officers while going on your unauthorized tour, but you don’t think the people stumbling around the room are capable of pointing you towards the bathroom if you used that lie on them.
The three officers are all pressed against the cell on the far side of the room. Leaving their dark desks and green spinny chairs unattended in favor of gnawing on the rusted bars and taunting someone.
“Hey I heard that door open! Come get your friends offa me!” the person calls from inside.
Before you can reply to the stranger's nasally voice, the officers turn to you, groaning from deep within their stomachs as if they’ll cough out their hearts with a bit more effort and shuffling towards you. Their skin is glazed over with sweat and tinted into an unhealthy hue, their eyes are hazy and unfocused yet they lock in on you. They snap their jaws as they approach and their green tinted teeth practically break with each attempted bite.
“What's wrong with them?!” You call, reaching for your gun and stepping back into the hallway.
“Hell if I know! You’re the cop!”
“I’m not a-” You cut yourself off with a shot from your gun, straight into one of the three officer’s skulls as he lunges towards you.
His dull nails nearly dig into you as he falls, two more come in quick succession all three lie at your feet twitching and creating puddles of blackened blood to soak in.
The putrid smell is strengthened by the fresh death and makes both you and the imprisoned man gag in unison.
The third and final thing the room does is provide you an opportunity. Swallowing down your lunch, you assess the room again and shut the door, stepping over the dead officers to inspect a locked bookshelf on the left side of the room. There must be something related to these strange occurrences in here.
While fumbling with the lock you hear the stranger's voice again.
“Hey! Thanks! Now lemme out of here!”
You huff and turn, before you stands a clown. You’ve seen his wanted poster somewhere before, but everything besides his bright blue hair, matching eyes, and of course, his large round nose, has faded from your memory.
For him to be here he must be worth something, but you can’t possibly tell if he’s more of a footnote or a headliner from a glance.
“Not so fast, who are you and what are you here for?” You start, opting to look around the room to imply disinterest. If he thinks you’ll leave him here he might get desperate enough to be interesting.
“What does it matter!! you wanna leave an innocent man here with those things?!”
Your gaze travels from the framed photo of the creatures that you killed prior to their descent into death, all the way over to the man in the cell.
You take in his slightly disheveled state, hair pulled high into a sweeping ponytail, painted red smile smudged around the edges, striped shirt untucked, teal trousers… And a pair of light seastone handcuffs keeping his hands in front of him.
They don’t have enough of the sea in them to make him loopy, but they should keep any powers he has at bay for questioning.
He frowns under your skeptical gaze and shakes his head.
“Well I’m partially innocent, all this is a big ole misunderstanding! Just let me go and I'll explain everything!”
“You could be even more dangerous than the creatures in here.”
“Well, that's.. flattering I guess, but I clearly don't have any weapons or anything on me and I swear I won't hurt you, so be a good…” He pauses, it's a struggle, but you don’t pull your sights from the photo in your hands as you feel his eyes wash over you. “fashion student? And let me go.”
“I'm a journalist.” You scoff, grabbing a file from one of the desks.
“Right of course, silly me, be a good journalist, and let me go! … Please.”
“How do I know that you won't run off as soon as I free you?”
“So what if I do! you seem awfully comfortable walking around in this shit hole! just lemme out and we can both go our separate ways!”
“I don't know… If I let a wanted criminal free I could lose my job”
“WHAT JOB?!? The world is ENDING!!” He cries, finally close enough to grip the bars of his cell, avoiding the spots that were being chewed on by the officers.
“You don't know that.” You start calmly. “Based on my findings, this outbreak should be contained in the city. No one outside its borders knows this is happening. I need to be the one who gets this story out there and I can't do that if I'm known as an accomplice to some clown.” You explain, walking away from the desk and kicking the creatures to ensure that they won’t bite while you check their pockets.
“It's Buggy, and who cares! I won't tell! Scouts honor, promise!”
“You're not understanding, Mr. Clown.”
“Captain.” He interrupts, voice strained into a hiss.
“Uh huh, what I'm saying is that this entire outbreak has been planned. There's no way that you're here due to coincidence, and if you're that important then I'll need you to complete my story.”
Your casual manner finally seems to strike fear into him. He shakes the bars of the cell making everything sound like a baby rattle made of scrap metal.
“What no! no no no! I was just robbing a museum nearby! This was all an accident! My crew left me and I got caught, silly mistake! Learned my lesson!”
You stand back up with a pair of keys in your hand. Ignoring his desperation despite the way it overpowers the room.
“Maybe… But there's something about this that-”
“Okay okay!” He cuts you off, voice crashing against yours. “Say that I'm here for some grand reason! what you should do is let me free to throw off the organization behind this and-and find my file!”
Bingo. You spin to face him, making sure that the keys jingle in your hands as you approach the cell
“Your file?” You ask, finally gazing into those blue eyes.They soften a bit as his face falls into a smile
“Yes! if im some sort of sacrificial lamb or whatever, the big brain behind this must have some sort of log with all my relevant info! so go find that and you'll have your damn story.”
“That's an interesting theory… And if that's the case it's all the more important that I keep you close because you might know something. You have information that isn't in your file so they captured you.”
You hold in a smirk as his jaw drops, he shakes his head frantically, hair swaying over his shoulders and down his back.
“You can't be serious, look I may be a cheat and a thief but you're gonna risk my whole life for a news article!? That's just plain old heartless!”
“I- I'm not risking it, you are! You're safer here than you are wandering around.”
“Sure! Until I die of starvation or something! Come on, I may be a pirate but this is pretty harsh!”
You falter, you’ve heard things like that before. Life ruiner, career ender, coldhearted cunt, and every other name under the sun. All for the lengths you've gone to for an inside scoop. He stares at the keys in your hands, panicked eyes flickering between them and the tense expression you’re sure is on your face. Before he can speak you turn your head away from him and nod.
“If you look for information while finding an exit, do you promise to meet me in the lobby and tell me what you found before you go?”
“Yea yea sure of course!!” Buggy beams, big teeth glinting in the stale electric lights that buzz overhead.
“Okay, but you have to give me your pants.”
“Alrigh- I HAVE TO WHAT?!?” He screeches, voice harmonizing with the shaking bars.
“Relax!” You insist, crossing your arms. “It's just so that I can make sure you come back.”
Buggy scoffs, rattling the bars harder.
“Are you insane?! why would I walk around creatures that BITE ME with NO! FUCKIN! PANTS ON?!?”
“Okay okay, a shoe then.”
The clown grumbles, and soon something is dangling in your field of view. His purple hair ribbon.
“How about this? It's a family heirloom, no way I'll run away without it.”
You stare at the strip of fabric and shake your head.
“A family of gerbils? This looks like it's been chewed to hell and back.”
“Fine! No hair tie! How about my hat! I'll definitely be wanting that!”
You scan over the large orange hat that hangs from a hook by the door. Next to it is a jacket in a similar color with a white fur lining and many pockets.
“Doesn't match my outfit though…” You hum, walking to the hook and stepping over the dead officers.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?” Buggy roars.
“Calm down. I'll take it, I was only joking.”
“Ha. Ha. Now let me outta here!”
You take the captain’s hat off the wall and lay it on your head. It's a bit chilly, and the lingering scent of the sea wafts off of it, but it's not that bad overall.
Waltzing to the cell, you unlock the door with one key from the ring in your grasp and undo the cuffs with the other. Buggy practically pushes you to the side as he rushes for his jacket, and apparently, the eight daggers that were hidden in it.
“Thank-”
“Wait! Got a watch on you?” you ask.
“In one pocket or the other, why? You trying to rob me now?” he hums, a tense smile greets you as he whips around.
“No, just meet me at the lobby in three hours. If I find an exit while looking around I'll lead you to it.”
“Fine. See ya!”
“Go to the left! and stay quiet!” You call, but you’re not quite sure he heard you.
~•~•~•~•~•~
Masterlist and more to be added soon!
finally, please follow the "RE!Buggy" tag at the end of the post to stay updated!! I will not be posting every chapter under his main tags; so it's the best way to see what is and isn't available so far!
synopsis: Buggy helps you celebrate your birthday!
Characters: Buggy, Reader, mentioned crew
reader: Loves to dance! is the birthday girl, uses she/her pronouns, has breasts and a vagina.Wears a dress, Your friend leans down to talk to you, and Buggy has you sit on his lap at some point, called "dollface" "spotlight" "honeycakes" etc.
wc: 3.6k
a/n: Happy Birthday to me! it was a while ago, but i am excited to put this out anyways! happy early/belated birthday to you all!! 🎉🩷🎉🩷🎉
and i finished this one suuper late at night, so i will probably do a little overhaul in the morning/late afternoon when I wake up!
Oneshot masterlist. ao3. the dress
~•~•~•~•~•~
“Flashy!” It seemed that everything that Buggy did, wore, or in this case; Who he loved, managed to embody that word and all it stood for.
And today was no exception, you spun around the dance floor catching the lights like prey and tossing them back out to the enchanted passersby who got a glimpse of you through the windows of the bar.
Buggy pitied those poor fools, but not by much since he was the one who got to whisk you away once you got your fill of dancing… Though it was starting to look like that wouldn’t be happening any time soon, which was bad news for Buggy and the ‘V.I.P. only’ tent he was pitching in his pants.
Today was your birthday, and your dear clown celebrated it as flashily as possible, starting with breakfast in bed and fresh flowers. Though he had slightly burnt your food and there was so much glitter on the blooming buds that you couldn’t tell what they were, much less smell them without posing the risk of sneezing sparkles for a week. Still, you accepted both gifts with open arms and peppered Buggy in the first wave of kisses.
Then, you got your special birthday outfit, a custom mid-thigh length dress that featured his patent-pending red and white stripes. It had a strapless neckline, and a deep V cut in the back that went dangerously low on you. It was held in place with a golden bow that matched the piping of your dress.
The look was enhanced by a purple scarf much like his own, but with a squirting flower brooch and matching socks. Then, to tie everything together, was a bright orange tiara that resembled Buggy’s hat, fit with spikes, swirly details, and his jolly roger gleaming front and center. It hardly goes without saying that each part of the ensemble was either covered in rhinestones, sequins, glitter, or a mix of all three. You easily put every disco ball to shame.
After helping you into the dress and accessories, Buggy received his second wave of kisses, and you got princess treatment. Each of the fabulous freaks on board were waiting on you hand and foot while asking if you wanted anything else. You even received an offer to be fed, which Buggy did not appreciate. (“What!? She doesn’t need any help with that! And if she did I would be handlin’ it!... Right darling?”)
Following that was the presents, of which you received many, then the cake and singing. Somewhere in between all the festivities, Buggy received his third and fourth waves of kisses.
All of that leads to now, you’re docked at an island where you could dance the night away with your friends as a final gift. Your beloved jester had once been with you under the lights, laughing and singing along, but he had gotten tired and went to grab a drink or two. Though you simply shrugged off his disappearing act, Buggy loved to dance until he got tired, then he loved to sit down and relax more than anything else.
Which is why, when you felt his familiar, strong grip on your waist, you assumed that he had caught his breath and decided to join you again.
But, as his fingers tail up your side, you realize that you can’t lean into his chest because it's not behind you. None of him is.
You scan the bar, beginning to solve the mystery of ‘where the hell is the rest of my boyfriend’ so you can dance on him again, but each time you cast your gaze around the dance floor, you’re greeted with waves from fellow freaks, or interesting glances from strangers. After your third attempt, the hand moves to squeeze your ass.
“Buggy!” You hiss,
“Hm?” Your friend asks, dipping down to hear you.
“Nothing, nothing!”
You scowl, hoping that he can feel your cold stare from wherever he is.
The hand slips under your dress and inches up your thigh, pressing and squeezing you as it goes. The sensation of his bare skin exploring you makes you bite your lip, the heat of the crowded room grows as you try to dance the way you were before, not wanting to draw any suspicion.
You fall back into the music with ease, closing your eyes and letting your hips sway to the beat. Around you the bass thumps like a loving heartbeat, fueling you through the soles of your shoes to the tip of your crown, and back down again. The air is soaked through with sweat, but also the sweet scent of the flavoring added to the drinks, and an intoxicating mix of perfume and cologne that makes your head spin in the best way. You brush against your friends, and share laughter with them, sneaking jokes between songs. You're in the middle of commenting on the day so far when Buggy makes his next move.
His hand slips up the curve of your rear and into your panties, a lacy red pair that he gave you today. He doesn’t dare to feel the wet spot growing in your center, instead he continues to grope your ass from new angles. You gasp and press your legs together slightly, your mind wandering to what Buggy might be doing while he teases you here.
Another part of you grows bolder. Fueled by the thought of your lover's eyes on you right now, you spin a little slower, wind your hips with a bit more purpose, and run your own hands over your body in the ways you hope he’ll copy later.
Just then, as if the day couldn’t get any better, they begin to play a song you know, one that Buggy loves. You’ve given him so many private shows to this passionate beat, and it’s been the reason behind more ripped pairs of panties than you can count. You can tell Buggy hears it when his hand slips further, he pauses at your core as if impressed by the amount of slick dripping from you, but manages to continue his travel towards your clit, where he begins to rub slow circles in sync with the music. You bite your lip and close your eyes in response.
It was easy to slip into the music before, but now you can feel it thumping through you like a second heartbeat, and from that space you relax and let it take control of your body, as if for its own pleasure. In this state, you feel like an onlooker as well. As if you and Buggy have given into a shared voyeuristic fantasy where the song manifests itself through his skillful fingers and brings you to the brink of ecstasy each time the chorus hums in.
From your perch on the climax you watch along as the tune pleases itself through you and Buggy, playing with the both of you like toys made to bring it to its own selfish orgasm. Each brush against your clit and greedy breath from your mouth is amplified in the base, the strings lift you from the floor while the bass pulls at you from deep within. Buggy’s fingers use you like an instrument, taking away all your senses.
The sweet scent in the air would be like drinking in ash in comparison to the soothing pulse that he presses against so beautifully. The pain of your heels has dispersed upwards and into your soaking cunt, reduced to nothing but passion. Your drinks from earlier are gone from your tongue, having been replaced with a thirst for the sound coming from within you.
Around you, the dancefloor has disappeared and all bodies but your own are like mirrors, reflecting your shameful waltz back to you, yet stoking your pleasure. Under normal circumstances you might worry how this comes across to anyone else. You would catch the eyes of curious people and look away shyly, dancing a little tamer, holding yourself back from whatever beast you’ve given into tonight. But now, the idea of your bliss being visible, palpable, something heavy that controls the atmosphere and dampens the air, it makes your head spin like the disco ball above you, and brings you closer to the edge.
It’s visible now, the peak of the song, the brilliant sumit where you and Buggy will succumb to the will of the music, each wind of your hips and circle on your clit have led to this moment. It feels like your intimate movements have only begun, at the same time it feels like an eternity of lustful euphoria has passed within you. Still, you must move on, in order for you to ever understand what has happened to your body, you have to let this moment go. And that you do.
It's a miracle you don’t squirt all over the dance floor. But the slight shivers that run through your body snap you out of your… experience go entirely unnoticed. Whatever you may have done, or looked like while the song was playing must not have been too distracting. Around you, the room is the same as before, Buggy has gone back to groping your ass, if not for the wetness on his fingers, you would have wondered if what you felt was even real.
“..Hear me?” Your friend asks, concern clear on her face.
“Yea! Well, no, sorry.” You hum sheepishly, your voice feeling almost foreign to you now.
“It's fine lovie! We’re gonna grab some drinks, did you wanna come? Or stay and dominate the dance floor some more?”
“I’m gonna try and look for a bathroom.”
“Okay, bring the Captain with you though, just in case!”
“Mhm, stay safe.”
“You too!”
You watch her and a few others wiggle away, that's when you spot it. An awfully convenient storage closet. You march towards the dark wood door, dodging dancers and smiling at your crewmates as if your not aiming to get your brains fucked out in a second.
As soon as you wrap your hand around the doorhandle, he sinks a finger into your cunt. Your moan is muffled by the thump of the music. It begins to pump inside of you without warning, dipping deeper within you with each thrust, until you're almost sure that Buggy has detached it from his palm.
You fumble with the doorknob for a second before finally bursting into the room and slamming it shut behind you.
“There she is.” Buggy sings, his voice quivers with the weight of his desire.
At the sight of him you clench and feel another finger slip in.
Your boyfriend is seated on a large upside down crate. With his teal sash being used as a barrier between his bare ass and the wood. His pants are hanging down around his ankles, and his cock is leaking onto his fist.
He trails his eyes over you shamelessly. The room is dimly lit by the leftover lights that spill between the seams of the door.
Looking at you makes his fingers move faster inside you as he pumps himself. There's about one step between the two of you, and you close the distance quickly. Buggy whines eagerly into your kiss and embrace. But you avoid his lips, giving him his fifth wave of kisses instead. When you pull back, satisfied with your work, he pops his head off and goes in for his prize.
He tastes like one of those fruity drinks you both like and his lipstick is no doubt coating you like a million declarations of love, you press yourself into him. Careful to avoid his lap as you push him gently against the wall.
“Fuckin’ tease.”
You both hiss at the same time. You laugh, resting your forehead against his and moving your hand to cup his balls. As you do, the fingers inside you spark back to life.
Buggy speaks first, “You look so good out there honeycake.”
“You felt amazing, I don’t know what happened when our song came on-”
“You felt that too?”
“Yea, It was strange right?”
Buggy nods, his palm pressing against your clit, forcing a moan from you.
“It was spectacular.” He hums, pulling you to straddle him on the crate, your dress brushing against the head of his cock as you lean over him. “And I want an encore.”
His voice is like a soothing balm over aches you can’t recall getting, but you welcome it all the same. Warm silk laid out in the sun could be put to shame by the way your darling is looking up at you right now, desire about as visible as the blue in his eyes, and adoration bleeding through every hushed moan and breath. You return his feelings in kind, dipping down for a searing hot kiss.
As you kiss him, you bring your hand down to replace his own, teasing his cock with slow, strong strokes. He pumps his fingers inside you at a matching pace, purposeful thrusts that make your eyes roll back even though they’re already closed.
When you both finally pull back for air, you pull your panties to the side giving him just enough time to pull his fingers out before you sink down onto him.
“Fuck baby! You’re- hah- so fuckin wet.”
You lay your head on his shoulder, licking your way up to his ear and drinking in the way he shivers underneath you.
“All for you, Captain.” You breathe out, feeling his thick length twitch at the sound of his title.
“My good girl.”
You nod, nipping at his neck and grinding your hips down in lazy circles.
Despite being in a small storage closet in the club, it’s clear that you both intend to take all the time necessary to chase the feeling from mere moments ago.
As you sway against Buggy, he lets out soft gasps and whimpers. Hands greedy for every inch of you, he squeezes your ass and palms your tits. Pulling at your nipples gently and smacking your rear. His actions send little shockwaves through you, doubling your pleasure as he explores your body.
“You know how hard it was all day seeing you in this damn- mphnn- dress?”
You hum, blinking up at him with false innocence as you speed up a bit. Your lover bites his lip in response, strong arms pulling you closer.
“Looked so fuckin’ pretty under the lights. Fuuck.”
His words only make you feel bolder, you yank down your top and tease yourself with your free hand.
Buggy nearly growls at the sight. Leaning down, taking you into his mouth and lapping at your nipple in quick swipes that match the new pace that he fucks you at.
You cry out, voice muffled by your free hand. His cock thrusts up into you, each drag pressing against that spot inside you that makes you see stars.
The feel of his tongue against you sends bright shivers through your body, your hot cunt clenches down with each swipe, your pulse making Buggy fuck you harder, each push from his hips hitting deeper and deeper.
You whine out, nails digging into his shoulder as you take everything he gives you.
His cock damn near splits you in half, each thrust making your tits bounce in your grip and his mouth. The pleasure makes your thighs try and press together, but with Buggy’s hips in the way, you end up holding him tighter.
Then, he pulls back, flashing you a grin before slowing to a lazy pace.
“You taste soo good my spotlight,” He sings, pressing a kiss to your lips that quickly melts away into passion. Your tongue dances with his, both of you moaning into one another to the point where you can hardly tell where you end and he starts.
“Hah- I have an idea, sweet thing.” He whispers between kisses.
You start fucking yourself onto him again, biting his lip when he whimpers out.
“And what might that be?”
“Mhm- damn tease- hah- shit a little more first, please.” He begs, hips stuttering under you.
The feel of his strong thighs working against your own fuels you to press down harder, forcing his length farther into you. The sounds of your hips meeting his bounce off the walls and mix with Buggy’s whiny moans as well as the sounds of bliss from you.
“This is what you- hnn- get for making me cum out there.” You hiss, taking his jaw into your grasp and peppering messy kisses all over his face. His lipstick must have been smeared on you, because there are matching prints left all over when you’re done.
“Your fault.” He gaps between moans. “You kept kissing me like that, fuuck, all day long I’ve been holding back, hnmn.”
“Really? hnm, That’s what did it? My kisses?”
Sheepishly, Buggy nods, suddenly embarrassed by his confession. You giggle, pressing a kiss to his nose, and capturing his lips before he can protest.
It’s as sloppy as all the rest you’ve shared tonight, made up of desire and love. You can feel his hesitation to embrace you fully, challenging his insecurities, you do all you can to sink your adoration for your dear clown into the moment. You can feel him accept it, and relax into your grip. Slowly, he pulls back and places a timid kiss on your forehead.
“Now, what was your idea, my love?”
“Well first, you’re gonna need something to muffle those pretty whines of yours honey.” Buggy hums, taking this time to play with your tits using both hands as you stop thrusting.
“Me? You’re the one whimpering.” You huff.
“So what? You can’t put your panties in both of our mouths.”
“Who said anything about that?”
“Well what did you think you were gonna suck-”
“Do not finish that sentence.” You pout. Buggy giggles at your expression.
“I’m already inside of ya dollface, a little innuendo won’t do any extra damage.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it!”
“...You can have my panties.”
“What about your loud ass?”
“What was that?”
“Nothing! Nothing!”
You roll your eyes dramatically, but fail to hold in the smile that takes over your features. Buggy beams back at you, his blue eyes finding a way to sparkle in the dark room.
“I’ll suck on you.” You hum, lifting one of his hands and pushing two fingers against your tongue, the Captain's approval is immediate, his cock twitching inside of you with enough force to make you moan.
“Sounds perfect!”
~•~•~•~•~•~
You lean forward, hands pressing against the hardwood wall in front of you. The crate under you bites into your knees, but the pain is dimmed by the thin barrier of Buggy’s teal sash and the feeling of his cock hammering into you.
Your lover’s blissful cries are hardly contained by the dampened fabric that was once between your legs. If anything, the taste of your slick is only making him louder. With each thrust, Buggy whines out your name, alongside praises and whimpers.
You can’t mock him though, because his fingers do next to nothing to hide the whimpers that break free from you.
“Mhnn Bayby, so nmm tight.” He slurs, laying his head on your shoulder and increasing his pace.
You moan at the sound of his praise, digging into the wall while pushing yourself back to meet him. The harsh pace makes you wonder which one of you is fucking the other as you both connect in the middle to add to your pleasure.
The sound of your ass against his thighs bounces off of the walls, probably escaping into the bass outside, you hope your ecstasy is muffled by the music. Your shameless attitude from before may have gone, but with each thrust, you feel that euphoria returning, and you’re sure that Buggy does too.
His movements slow just enough to go deeper. Each press of his hips against your ass forces his dick to kiss that spot inside of you, making you clench around him. Below you, you’re sure that there's a puddle of slick collecting on his sash.
“Fuuck darling, I’m getting- gettin’ close- ah! Fuck! Harder!” You plead. Biting down with enough force to make Buggy whine out.
“Mhm, cum for me, hnm- shit- cum on this cock- spotlight.”
You squeeze down at the sound of his pet name and push back to meet him, Everything hits you then. The bass bleeds in through the floor, finding its way to you though the crate, and sinking into Buggy the same way.
Every part of you feels aglow, the world is bright behind your eyelids, bright blue lights swim gently in your vision, as if they’re washing off of your lover and onto you. You breathe in but the scent of sex and sweat has been replaced with a refreshing emptiness that soothes your lungs, making your moans sound echoey and light. Buggy’s free hand finds your clit amidst the climax, doubling the bliss that you feel. Every twitch of his cock is like its own orgasm, you write against him and drink in the soft whines he lets out. You can still taste him on your tongue, but lean back to capture his lips all the same. In some strange way he tastes like a sound, and you feel like a vision. He says something, and while you can’t hear over your shared ecstasy, you know to say “I love you too."
The moment passes much too soon, but something makes you think that you’ll be feeling it again in the near future. Blinking, you fall back into yourself and catch your breath.
“Fuuck, spotlight.” Buggy moans, pulling out so he can sit down and gently tug you into his lap.
Summary: You should have realized something was up when Buggy offered to come with you on a job for Crocodile. But lies can become truth if given enough time.
Masterlist
Buggy the Clown was many things, but subtle was not one of them. It was something you quickly learned after the formation of the Cross Guild. You were Crocodile’s assistant; he had helped you out of a bad situation with your ex-fiancé, and you had agreed to work for him since you didn’t have anywhere to go. It was helpful to have someone who didn’t have a bounty poster working certain jobs, so as far as one was concerned, you were just a civilian.
You had been sent to scope out a casino the Crocodile wanted to take over, and for some reason Buggy had offered to travel with you. It was a rather odd offer given you barely interacted with the clown, but Crocodile gave the okay, so you had to roll with it. This choice may have been a mistake.
The casino doors slammed open with enough force to make half the room jump. The band’s music faltered, the sounds of dice and machines slowed, and a woman near the bar cursed as her drink splashed across the counter.
And through the entrance strode a Marine captain flanked by armed soldiers.
Wonderful, just what you needed right now. You lowered your cards slowly, resisting the urge to sink deeper into your chair. Around the glittering casino floor, conversations dimmed into nervous murmurs while the Marines swept the room with sharp, suspicious eyes.
“They’re looking for a pirate,” the bartender whispered under his breath. At the center stage, dancers hurried away beneath flashing lights while wealthy tourists tried very hard not to look concerned.
Honestly, you might’ve escaped notice entirely if not for the loud voice suddenly shouting, “There you are, sweetheart!” Before you could react, an arm wrapped around your shoulders and yanked you sideways into a solid chest smelling faintly of smoke, expensive cologne, and sea salt.
You stared upward in horror, bright blue hair, red nose, and a smug grin stretched too wide. “Oh no,” you said aloud. What the hell was Buggy doing here? He said he was going to stay on the ship.
“Miss me?” Buggy the Clown asked dramatically.
“What are you doing here?” You hissed slightly trying to not look at the Marines whose attention was defiantly locked on to the two of you.
“Well, I missed you and figured you needed your good luck charm while playing” he shot back, his smile never wavering.
The Marine captain’s eyes narrowed, recognition flashed across his face instantly. “Buggy the Clown.”
Buggy pointed at himself in exaggerated offense. “Wrong! I am but a humble businessman enjoying a peaceful evening with my beloved fiancé.”
You blinked. “Fiancée?” you repeated.
His fingers dug into your shoulder hard enough to warn you. “Play along,” he muttered through clenched teeth while somehow still grinning at the Marines. “Unless prison sounds fun.”
You glanced toward the Marine patrol slowly surrounding the casino exits. Then back to the pirate captain currently attached to your side like an overdramatic parasite. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Buggy laughed loudly, entirely for show. “Ah, my darling always jokes when their nervous!”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Of course not, sweetheart.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“There’s that fiery spirit I fell in love with.”
The Marine captain stepped closer. “You expect me to believe Buggy the Clown is engaged?”
Buggy gasped so theatrically several nearby gamblers looked offended on his behalf. “You wound me, sir! Is it truly so unbelievable that a man of my charisma and beauty found love?”
“Yes.”
“That was fast,” Buggy muttered with an overdramatic pout.
You pressed a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, he may be annoying at times, but he was funny. Unfortunately, Buggy noticed. His eyes widened slightly before his grin sharpened with renewed confidence
The captain crossed his arms. “If that’s true, then your fiancée won’t mind answering a few questions.”
Buggy’s arm tightened around your shoulders instinctively. “Oh, my darling hates interrogations,” Buggy said smoothly. “Traumatic childhood, very tragic.”
“I hate you,” you whispered.
“And yet you endure me.”
The captain looked unconvinced. “Then perhaps you won’t mind if we search your belongings.” Buggy froze, just for a second. Inside your bag was an eternal pose back to where the Cross Guild was. If they found that and decided to follow it, you would be in trouble
Thinking quickly, you looped your arm through his, Buggy blinked down at you in surprise. Then you smiled sweetly at the Marines. “Captain,” you said softly, “surely you can see my fiancé and I are trying to enjoy our evening.” The word fiancé nearly made Buggy choke, even though he had said not two minutes ago. “We've spent weeks traveling together,” you continued smoothly. “And honestly? If I had to survive the Grand Line with anyone else, I’d throw myself overboard.”
A snort escaped from one of the Marines nearby. Buggy stared at you like he’d forgotten how breathing worked, but the Marine captain still looked skeptical, but less certain now. “You’ve been traveling with him willingly?”
“Unfortunately.”
“HEY!”
You patted Buggy’s chest absentmindedly. “He gets emotional.”
“I do not...”
The Marine captain sighed heavily, clearly deciding this was no longer worth the paperwork. “Fine. But we’ll be monitoring the harbor.” His gaze hardened toward Buggy. “One wrong move and you’re finished.”
Buggy puffed himself up immediately. “Sir, I am a respected businessman.”
“You have a bounty poster.”
“Propaganda.”
The Marines finally moved on through the casino. The second they disappeared into the crowd, Buggy dropped his arm from your shoulders and rounded on you. “What was that?!” He whispered yell glancing back at where they had gone.
“You’re welcome,” you shot back.
“I had it handled!”
“You looked two seconds away from exploding.”
Buggy opened his mouth, paused, then pointed accusingly. “You called me your fiancé.”
“You called me your fiancée first.”
“Yes, but I was improvising.”
“And I was saving your ass and mine.”
Buggy stared at you for a long moment before suddenly grinning again. “Oh, this is perfect.”
You immediately didn’t like that tone. “No,” you said firmly.
“Oh yes.”
“No.”
“The Marines are watching the harbor,” Buggy explained, already sounding delighted with himself. “Which means they’ll absolutely be keeping an eye on us.”
“We are not an us.”
“We are now, sweetheart.” He slung an arm around your shoulders again and began steering you deeper into the casino floor.
You dug your heels in. “Absolutely not, I need to finish what I was sent here to do.”
“Absolutely yes, you already now Crocy wants this place, sending you was a formality, so you have done your job already.”
“I am not pretending to be engaged to you.”
“You already all and dropping the act now will get us both into trouble.”
You hated how much he had a point. Music swelled again across the casino as gamblers returned cautiously to their tables. Around you, lights glittered gold against polished marble floors while dancers climbed back onto the stage. Somehow, in the middle of all the noise and chaos, Buggy still was focused on you, like this was the most entertaining thing that had happened to him in weeks. And honestly it probably was.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered.
“I’m a performer,” he said proudly. “Of course I am.”
Then his detached hand floated past your face carrying two glasses of champagne. You stared as the hand wiggled its fingers at you. “I hate everything about this.” Buggy barked out a laugh.
Within the next couple of hours, you learned three very important things.
First, the Marines were still watching the harbor and you both like hawks. Second, the casino hotel only had one room left available. And third, Buggy the Clown was the single most irritating man alive.
“Is there nothing else available?” you asked
The hotel clerk smiled politely from behind the marble counter. “My apologies, but the festival has filled nearly every room in the city.”
“There,” Buggy announced triumphantly, pointing at the poor woman like he’d personally won an argument with the universe. “You heard her.” The clerk glanced nervously between the two of you while several Marines lingered near the entrance of the lobby pretending, very badly, not to watch.
Buggy noticed them immediately, his grin widened and before you could stop him, he dramatically grabbed your hand and dropped to one knee. The entire lobby gasped. “Oh, come on,” you hissed.
“My darling,” Buggy declared loudly, pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, “would you truly deny me one night beside the radiant light of my life?”
A woman near the staircase actually started awing at the sight. You stared down at him in disbelief and he winked. You wanted to throw him into the ocean, instead, you forced a strained smile through clenched teeth. “Well, who am I to deny you, my love.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Of course it is.”
Buggy rose smoothly, still grinning like an idiot. The hotel clerk handed over the room key with a bright smile “Suite 304.”
“Thank you kindly,” Buggy said with exaggerated charm. Then he slung an arm around your waist and guided you toward the stairs before you could murder him publicly.
The second you entered the hallway, your smile dropped. “You are insane.”
“And handsome.”
“No.”
“And charismatic.”
“Still no.”
Buggy clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me, sweetheart.”
“I’m serious! You can’t just do that in front of people!”
“It was improv.”
“You got on one knee!”
“Theatrics are important.”
“You are impossible.”
“And yet,” he said smugly, “it worked.” That was the irritating part, he was right, again.
The suite itself was absurdly luxurious. Tall windows overlooked the harbor below where Marine ships sat anchored beside the crowded docks. Velvet furniture filled the sitting room while crystal chandeliers glittered overhead.
And in the center bedroom, one bed, oh the universe must have been screwing with you.
You stopped in the doorway and Buggy stopped beside you. Then both of you stared silently at the massive mattress. “Absolutely not,” you said.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic.”
“You’re joking.”
“It’s a very large bed.”
“You’re still not sleeping in it with me.”
Buggy scoffed loudly, “Please. As if I’m the problem here.”
You turned slowly, “Excuse me?”
“You’re clearly obsessed with me already.”
“I am not.”
Buggy tossed his coat over a nearby chair before flopping backward onto the mattress spread-eagle. “This is nice,” he sighed happily.
You crossed your arms. “Move.”
“No.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And handsome. Don’t forget handsome.” You grabbed one of the decorative pillows and hurled it directly at his face. Buggy’s head detached from his body an instant before impact and the pillow slammed harmlessly into the wall. His floating head cackled.
“Oh, that’s cheating!”
“You throw surprisingly well,” Buggy admitted. His body, unfortunately still laying on the bed, crossed its arms smugly while his head drifted lazily through the air. “This arrangement might actually be fun.”
“You are the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“Aww, you say the sweetest things” You opened your mouth to snap back at him, but paused, outside the window, movement caught your attention. The marines from the lobby, they now stood across the street watching the hotel.
Buggy noticed your shift of attention and his grin faded a bit as he glanced out the window. “Yeah,” he said quieter. “They’re not letting this go.”
You looked back toward him. For the first time since meeting him, the constant performance cracked just enough for you to glimpse the stress underneath. He was worried. You leaned against the window with a sigh. “What exactly did you do?”
Buggy immediately looked offended. “Why assume I did something?”
“You’re a wanted pirate.”
“That feels judgmental.”
“Buggy I work for Crocodile.”
“That’s unrelated.”
“Buggy.”
He clicked his tongue before finally waving a dismissive hand. “It’s complicated.”
“That usually means illegal.”
“It means profitable.”
Before you could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the suite, both of you froze and another knock followed. “Hotel service,” came a voice outside.
Buggy’s eyes narrowed instantly, and you felt the shift in him immediately. You knew what it was like when someone was squaring off to fight, and this was it. One detached hand silently floated toward several hidden knives near his coat.
You moved carefully toward the door. Buggy caught your wrist before you could reach it and his voice dropped low. “Behind me.” The sudden seriousness in his tone sent a strange rush through your chest. Then he grinned again, fast and sharp like he’d slapped the mask back into place. “Wouldn’t want my beloved fiancé getting hurt.”
You stared at him for half a second, then squeezed his hand once before stepping aside. Buggy blinked like the gesture surprised him. Another knock sounded, this time and it was harder. Buggy cracked his neck with exaggerated flair before striding toward the door. “Oh,” he said cheerfully, knives sliding into his detached hands behind his back, “this should be entertaining.”
Buggy yanked the suite door open with a grin already in place. “Room service, took you guys long enough.” Three Marines stood outside, marines armed with rifles and expressions far too serious for your liking.
The one in front smiled thinly. “Captain Buggy.”
Buggy smiled right back. “What can I help you with?”
The marine’s gaze slid past him into the suite, toward you, now standing near the window once again. “We only have a few more questions for you and your fiancée,” the marine said.
Buggy leaned casually against the doorway. You could now see the detached hand behind his back quietly spinning three knives between its fingers. “We already answered questions downstairs,” Buggy replied lightly.
“And yet,” the Marine captain said, “your story has inconsistencies.”
You sighed internally. Buggy, however, looked delighted. “Inconsistencies? In our relationship? Impossible. We’re disgustingly in love.”
“Name their favorite flower.” Buggy froze and the marine folded his arms smugly. “A strange thing not to know about your fiancée.”
Buggy turned his head slightly toward you. “Sunflower?” He guessed weakly.
You stared at him and he stared back. “He is right, those are my favorites.”
The Marines looked deeply unconvinced now and the one on his right shifted his rifle higher. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion at headquarters.”
Buggy’s smile thinned dangerously. “No,” he said simply. The tension was threatening to snap across the room. The Marines reached for their weapons. Behind Buggy, detached hands silently floated into attack positions.
You could practically feel violence building in the air. And if a fight broke out here, the entire hotel would erupt into chaos. Thinking fast, you stepped forward before either side could do something stupid and grabbed Buggy by the face.
He made a startled noise as you pulled him down into a kiss, as the room went dead silent. For one glorious second, Buggy completely stopped functioning. Just wide-eyed shock, honestly, it was the quietest you’d ever seen him. But you did have his lips covered with yours. You kissed him hard enough to make it believable, one hand curled into the front of his coat while the Marines stood frozen in awkward horror nearby.
Then you pulled back slowly and Buggy looked genuinely dizzy. You kept your expression annoyed as you turned toward the marines. “Are we done here?” You snapped. “We spent weeks at sea together, and I would like to spend some quality time with him on land.”
One marine immediately looked away as another turned bright red. The one in the middle looked like he desperately regretted knocking on the door at all.
Buggy, meanwhile, was still visibly recovering. “You…” he said faintly and you elbowed him sharply. “Oh! Right!” Buggy suddenly barked, recovering instantly. “Yes! Passion! Romance! True love!” His detached hands threw knives into the ceiling entirely out of emotional confusion.
“Right,” the marine said quickly. “Apologies for disturbing you.”
“Yes, leave,” Buggy said immediately.
“Enjoy your stay.”
“Oh, we will.” The door slammed shut the second they retreated into the hallway.
Then Buggy slowly turned toward you. “You kissed me.”
You crossed your arms. “You’re welcome.”
“You kissed me.”
“Yes, I heard you the first time.”
“You actually kissed me.”
“Oh my god.”
Buggy touched his mouth like he’d just experienced a religious awakening. “That was your plan?” he asked.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Buggy stared at you for another long second, then pointed accusingly. “You used tongue.”
Your face burned instantly. “I absolutely did not.”
“You absolutely did!”
“That was strategy!”
“That was passion!”
“You are unbelievable.”
Buggy’s grin spread slowly across his face. “You know,” he said carefully, “for a fake fiancée you’re very convincing.” Something in his tone made your stomach flip unexpectedly, so naturally, you did the mature thing. You grabbed another pillow and hit him with it and Buggy burst into laughter. It was bright, sharp and impossible to ignore as he stumbled backward onto the bed dramatically clutching his chest.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed, still laughing, “you’re gonna ruin me for other people.”
“That implies other people can tolerate you.”
“Why have anyone else when I have you.” You rolled your eyes, but the tension was gone. Buggy looked at you for a moment too long before clearing his throat and standing again. “So,” he announced loudly, “obviously the marines are obsessed with us now.”
“Obviously.”
“Which means we need to sell this relationship harder.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Meaning?”
Before you could react, Buggy grabbed your hand dramatically and held it against his chest; his heartbeat was fast, faster than you expected. “You,” he declared, “are officially accompanying me to the festival tonight.”
“The what?”
“The harbor festival! Dancing! Gambling! Fireworks! Criminal activity!”
“One of those things is concerning.”
Buggy grinned as one his detached hand pulled the knives from the ceiling and slipped them back into his coat. “We’re being watched anyway,” he said quietly. “Might as well make a show of it.” His other hand grabbing yours.
You studied him carefully, he was planning something, and the smart move would be to stay put in the room, but somehow, despite every warning instinct you possessed, you squeezed his hand back and nodded.
By sunset, the harbor festival had transformed the entire city into chaos. Music thundered through crowded streets. Strings of glowing lanterns hung overhead between buildings while performers breathed fire along the waterfront. Drunken pirates stumbled between market stalls beside nobles pretending they absolutely did not gamble illegally after dark.
And at the center of it all, Buggy was thriving. “This,” he declared proudly, throwing his arms wide as fireworks burst over the harbor, “is my natural habitat.”
“You mean hanging out with drunk idiots?”
“Celebration.”
“You knocked over a food cart ten minutes ago.”
“It was the road.”
You snorted despite yourself and Buggy immediately looked smug about it. The worst part was that he’d somehow managed to look good tonight, still ridiculous, obviously. But the long dark coat hanging loose over his striped shirt combined with the festival lights and confident grin made him annoyingly attractive. Which was deeply inconvenient for you, especially when he noticed you staring.
“Oh?” Buggy leaned closer with a smirk. “See something you like, lover?”
“No.”
“You're a bad liar.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet your eyes keep wandering all over this.” You immediately looked away and Buggy’s grin widened in victory.
Before he could say something even more unbearable, loud cheers erupted further down the harbor. A crowd had gathered around a massive gambling ring near the docks. Buggy’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh, now that looks promising.”
“That sentence has never led to anything good.”
Too late. He was already dragging you through the crowd by the hand. The gambling ring sat beneath strings of lantern light where pirates and wealthy tourists shouted over piles of beli stacked on long tables. Dice rolled across velvet while cards snapped between skilled fingers.
And at the center stood a massive man covered in gold jewelry laughing loudly as terrified players lost money around him. “Ah,” Buggy said brightly. “I hate him already.”
You glanced sideways. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“He looks smug.”
Fair enough. The gold-covered man noticed Buggy almost immediately, and recognition flashed across his face a grin that a shiver down your spine spread slowly across his face.
“Well, well,” the man boomed. “If it isn’t the great clown himself.” Several nearby conversations died instantly as people turned and started to whisper among themselves. Buggy stiffened beside you almost imperceptibly.
Buggy recovered quickly, flashing his usual arrogant grin. “Always nice to be recognized.”
“And who’s this?” the man asked, looking you over openly.
Buggy’s hand tightened around yours instantly. “My fiancée.”
“Fiancée, huh?” The man laughed loudly. “Didn’t think you had the guts for commitment, clown.”
Buggy smiled, coldly. “Oh, I’m full of surprises.” The atmosphere shifted subtly, but you felt it immediately. Because beneath all the jokes and dramatics, Buggy was still dangerous when he wanted to be.
The man grinned wider. “Then let’s make things interesting.”
Buggy tilted his head. “Go on.”
“A game.” The man gestured toward the gambling table. “Winner takes the pot.”
Buggy scoffed. “Please. I don’t need your money.”
“Maybe not,” the man agreed. “But if you lose” His eyes slid toward you. “Your fiancée spends the evening on my arm instead.”
The harbor seemed to go silent and you could feel your stomach dropped. Several pirates nearby immediately backed away from the table as they looked at Buggy. He had stopped smiling entirely. One hand slowly curled into a fist at his side; the man either didn’t notice or was too stupid to care.
You looked at Buggy carefully, his expression was unreadable now beneath the lantern light, but like a switch flipping he laughed. “Oh,” he said. “You’re dead.”
The man barked another laugh. “Scared to lose?”
Buggy stepped forward slowly. “No,” he said pleasantly. “I’m deciding how painful I want this to be.” Several weapons quietly appeared in detached hands around him.
The crowd shifted nervously. You touched Buggy’s arm lightly before this turned into fight and his gaze snapped toward you instantly. And just like that, the rage softened slightly. You stepped beside him. “Don’t.”
“He just bet you like property.”
“I noticed.”
“I could kill him.”
“You say that very casually.”
Buggy looked genuinely confused. “Well, yes.” And something in your stomach flipped again, but it was a warm feeling at the same time.
The gold-covered man laughed again. “What’s wrong, clown? Afraid your fiancée prefers real men?”
Bad choice of words. Buggy’s smile returned immediately, but it somehow felt more threatening. Then he leaned down near your ear. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “would it ruin the romance if I blew this entire dock up?”
You bit back a laugh. “Probably.”
“Tch. Tragic.” Then, before you could stop him, Buggy turned dramatically toward the gambling table and slammed both hands down onto the velvet. “Fine!” he announced loudly. “One game!”
“You cannot be serious,” you hissed.
Buggy leaned sideways slightly, very quietly, so only you could hear: “I need access to the ship behind the docks.” You glanced toward the harbor where a heavily guarded ship floated beyond the festival lights.
Marine patrols surrounded it and whatever Buggy wanted from there, this entire fake engagement chaos suddenly made a lot more sense. “You planned this,” you realized.
Buggy grinned sideways. “I prefer the term improvisational genius.”
Before you could respond, the gold-covered man slammed dice onto the table. “Let’s play, clown.”
Buggy rolled his shoulders lazily before flashing you a dramatic wink. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he announced loudly. “Your beloved future husband is about to commit several crimes for you.” You groaned into your hands and the crowd cheered.
The game lasted exactly four minutes before it devolved into absolute chaos. Honestly, you expected nothing less from Buggy. “At last!” the gold-covered pirate shouted as the dice rolled across the velvet table. “Looks like luck finally abandoned you, clown!” The crowd leaned forward. Lantern light flickered across mountains of beli stacked between the players while fireworks exploded over the harbor behind them.
Buggy stared at the dice dramatically, then sighed. “You know,” he said sadly, “I really tried to do this peacefully.”
The pirate frowned. “What?”
Buggy looked up, grinned, and snapped his fingers. The gambling table exploded. People screamed as ards, dice, and piles of money launched into the air while smoke burst upward in a violent cloud. Pirates scattered in every direction as detached Buggy hands flew through the chaos stealing wallets with terrifying efficiency.
“What the hell?!” someone yelled.
“HE CHEATED!”
“WAS THAT A CANNON!”
Buggy cackled loudly as the entire harbor erupted into panic. “RUN, SWEETHEART!”
You barely had time to react before he grabbed your wrist and bolted through the screaming crowd. “You blew up the table!”
“It was distracting!”
“That’s your solution to everything!”
“And yet it keeps working!” Marines shouted somewhere behind you. The harbor instantly split into chaos as soldiers rushed toward the explosion while terrified civilians flooded the docks. Away from the heavily guarded ship.
“You created a diversion.”
Buggy looked deeply offended. “Please. I created art.”
“You’re insane.”
“And brilliant.” That too, unfortunately. The two of you darted between crowded festival stalls while Buggy laughed like a man having the time of his life, which he probably was. A detached hand tossed stolen coins into the air beside him like confetti.
“Did you rob people while running?”
“Multitasking.”
“BUGGY.”
“What? They weren’t using it.”
Another explosion thundered behind you. You whipped around. “Was that you too?!”
“Focus on the mission!”
“The mission?!” you repeated incredulously. “You never even told me the mission!” Buggy suddenly grabbed your waist and pulled you sharply into a dark alley just as marines sprinted past the street entrance. Both of you froze as heavy footsteps thundered by while voices shouted and thhen faded.
As the silence settled between you two, you realized very suddenly how close he was. One arm wrapped around your waist.Your chest pressed against his.Blue hair brushing your forehead beneath the dim lantern light.
Buggy gazed down at you, and your heartbeat stumbled awkwardly. Then his detached hand floated into the alley carrying a stolen meat skewer. The moment shattered instantly. “Snack?” the hand offered. You burst out laughing. Buggy groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on! I was having a moment!”
“You absolutely were not.”
“I totally was!”
“You got interrupted by your own floating arm.”
“It lacks timing.” The hand flipped you both off and you laughed harder.
Buggy stared at you for a second before something softer crossed his expression, fondness. It vanished almost immediately beneath his usual grin, but you caught it. And suddenly the alley felt much smaller. Buggy cleared his throat loudly before stepping back. “Right! Important criminal business.”
You crossed your arms. “You owe me answers.”
“I owe you many things. Answers are negotiable.”
“Buggy.”
He sighed dramatically before finally jerking his thumb toward the harbor.
“That marine ship?” he said. “They’re transporting something valuable tonight.”
“Valuable how?”
Buggy’s eyes glittered.
“Treasure-map valuable.”
Ah, of course, you should’ve known. “And your plan,” you said slowly, “was to fake an engagement, start a riot, and rob marines during a city-wide festival.”
Buggy puffed up proudly. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“It sounded admiring.” Before you could argue, distant whistles echoed across the harbor. Buggy’s expression sharpened instantly. “They might have any idea of what we are after.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” he said with sudden excitement, “we’re improvising again.”
“That phrase keeps making my life worse.” Buggy grabbed your hand before sprinting from the alley and the harbor had become complete madness now. Festival lights reflected across dark ocean water while Marines pushed through crowds searching for suspects. Smoke from the explosions drifted between buildings as pirates fled in every direction.
And through all of it, Buggy dragged you straight toward the restricted docks. “You have no survival instincts!” you shouted.
“I have excellent survival instincts!”
“You just started a panic.”
“Yes, but stylishly!”
“You are insane!”
“And you’re holding my hand voluntarily!” You immediately tried pulling away. Buggy tightened his grip with a grin. “Too late now, sweetheart.” Then he stopped abruptly near the edge of the docks and you nearly crashed into him.
“What?” Your voice died instantly. The marine ship towered above the water ahead of you, lanterns glowing along polished decks lined with armed guards.
And standing at the center of the dock leading aboard, was the Marine captain from the hotel. Waiting. “Well,” the captain called calmly, sword already drawn, “that didn’t take long.”
Buggy clicked his tongue annoyed. The captain’s gaze slid toward your joined hands, then narrowed. “You planned this together.”
Buggy grinned lazily. “Aw, you think we’re coordinated.”
The air at the docks went still in a way that didn’t belong near a harbor full of chaos. Marines shouting in the distance. Festival fireworks cracking overhead. Waves slamming gently against the hull of the ship like nothing important was happening at all. Everything had narrowed down to a sword, a grin, and a hand still holding yours.
The Marine captain’s gaze stayed locked on the two of you. “So it was a distraction.”
Buggy the Clown tilted his head like he was genuinely offended. “A distraction?” he echoed. “That implies I needed to do something to draw attention.”
You muttered, “You absolutely did not need help drawing attention.”
“See?” Buggy pointed at you. “Supportive fiancée.”
The captain’s eyes sharpened. “Drop the act. We know you’re after the ship’s cargo.”
Buggy sighed dramatically, then let go of your hand. The absence of it was immediate in a way you didn’t like noticing. “Oh,” Buggy said lightly, rolling his shoulders. “So we’re skipping the banter part.” One of his detached hands drifted lazily beside him, twirling a knife between its fingers. “Good,” Buggy continued. “I hate small talk.”
The captain raised his sword slightly. “Surrender.”
Buggy blinked, then smiled. “You Marines always say that part like it means something,” he said.
A beat of silence, then the tension broke. Buggy moved first and he was fast. Too fast for someone who usually made a performance out of every step. His detached hands splitting in multiple directions like they were choreographed to chaos itself. The captain blocked the first strike, but not the second. You barely registered the clash of metal before Buggy was already behind him.
“You know what I like about festivals?” Buggy called casually.
The captain twisted, just barely avoiding a slash. “What?” the Marine snapped.
Buggy grinned. “Everyone’s already yelling.”
A cannon fired somewhere behind you and the dock shook. You stumbled back, and Buggy’s arm shot out, catching your wrist without looking, while still fighting. That should have scared you more. Instead, your pulse jumped for an entirely different reason.
His gaze flicked between you and Buggy. “You’re not just robbing us,” he realized.
Buggy laughed. “I’m a pirate stealing is kind of what we do.”
The captain’s expression hardened. “You’re using them.”
Buggy stopped moving, but only for second. “Careful,” he said softly. “That’s a dangerous accusation.”
The captain lifted his sword. “Is it wrong?”
You looked at Buggy, really looked. Waiting for the joke, a deflection of some kind, even his normal dramatic nonsense.
Instead, he didn’t look at the captain, no he looked at you. It was like he was checking something and was deciding something at the same time. Then he exhaled. “Yeah,” Buggy said finally. “I would never use them for something as boring as a distraction.”
He snapped his fingers and the dock exploded in color, confetti, smoke bombs, fireworks bursting in sudden violent beauty across the harbor. The sound swallowed everything.
The Marines shouted in confusion and the captain raised his arm to shield his eyes all while Buggy pulled you behind him. “Move,” he said under his breath.
You darted across the shaking dock as Marines scrambled through smoke and color. Buggy was holding your hand again, steady, guiding you straight toward the ship’s gangplank “You’re enjoying this too much,” you shouted over the noise.
“I always enjoy winning,” he shot back.
“That’s not what I meant!”
He glanced at you briefly. “I know.” That answer shouldn’t have made your stomach twist, but it did. Behind you, the Marine captain barked orders through the chaos. Buggy stopped at the base of the ramp, causing you to almost collided with him.
“What now?” you asked quickly. Instead, he looked up at the Marine ship and then down at you.
“You can leave,” he said.
You blinked. “What?”
Buggy shrugged like it didn’t matter. “You’ve done enough. Marines are focused on me now. You get away and maybe you don’t get in trouble from Crocodile.”
The words should’ve felt like relief, but they didn’t. Because he still hadn’t let go of your hand. “And you?” You asked.
Buggy hesitated, then forced a smile again “I’ve got a treasure map to steal.”
You stared at him. There was still fireworks were still going off behind you. The harbor still burning in noise and light. Marines still shouting somewhere in the distance.
But right here, it was somehow quiet. “You’re really just going to let me walk away?” you asked.
Buggy opened his mouth and closed it. Then laughed once, short and sharp. “Don’t make this weird,” he said. But his grip tightened instead of letting go. That told you everything his mouth wasn’t saying.
The silence between you and Buggy the Clown stretched longer than it had any right to. But right here, at the base of the Marine ship’s ramp, everything felt too still. Buggy’s grip on your hand was the only thing keeping you anchored in it. “You can leave,” he repeated, like saying it again might make it easier. “Seriously. No one’s stopping you.”
You looked at him, really looked. “I’m not walking away,” you said.
For a second, nothing happened. Buggy just stared at you. Like his brain had stopped working properly. Then he scoffed, too fast. “Tch. Don’t get sentimental,” he said, but his voice came out slightly wrong. “This isn’t a romance. It’s a very profitable misunderstanding.”
You squeezed his hand. “You were going to let me go,” you said quietly.
“That was the plan,” he snapped immediately.
“Why?”
Buggy looked away toward the ship instead, because looking at you seemed harder now.
“Because you weren't supposed to be a part of this,” he said finally. The wind shifted across the dock, carrying smoke and salt and the faint noise of collapsing festival lights.
You didn’t let go and neither did he. “So that’s it?” you asked. “You just drop me here like I was never part of it?”
Buggy’s smile twitched. “Hey,” he said sharply, “you got a very memorable experience.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s a good one.”
“Buggy.”
“This is the safest option for you.” That finally snapped something in you.
You stepped closer, pulling him closer to you. “You didn’t let go when they showed up,” you said. Buggy went still. “You didn’t let go in the alley,” you continued. Still nothing. “And you’re still holding my hand right now.” That did it, his fingers tightened once, just slightly and then loosened like he realized it
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
You softened your voice. “So why are you acting like I’m not already part of it?”
“You don’t get it,” he muttered.
“Then explain it.”
He let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, sure. ‘Hey, come risk your life for a clown with a bounty the size of a kingdom because he’s fun at parties.’ Technically Crocodile is your captain not me, I can’t order you are around like that.”
“It sounds like you’re deciding for me.”
Buggy’s jaw tightened. “I’m not deciding for you,” he snapped. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t regret it later.”
You tilted your head slightly. “Regret what?”
Buggy didn’t answer immediately, the Marine ship creaked above you, massive and waiting. Behind it, the harbor continued to burn with chaos he’d created. And still, he looked at you like this was the hardest thing he’d done all night. “This,” he said finally, quieter. “Me.”
You stared at him, then at your joined hands. “You really think I’m just going to walk away because you told me to?” you asked.
Buggy’s eye narrowed slightly. “People usually do.”
“Yeah,” you said. “I’m noticing a pattern of you assuming I’m like those people.” You stepped even closer now, voice lowering. “You made a fake fiancé out of me in a casino full of marines,” you said. “I kissed you in front of the marines and you dragged me into a riot that you caused. ” Buggy stiffened slightly at kiss part. “And now you’re telling me I’m not part of this?” you finished. “That sounds like I’m already in it.”
Buggy’s expression cracked. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “that’s kind of the problem.”
You raised an eyebrow. “For who?”
He finally looked at you properly again. “For me, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Your breath caught.
“Buggy...” He kissed you before you could say anything else. It wasn’t smooth but it wasn’t like to hotel. It felt almost frustrated, like he’d been trying not to do this for hours and finally lost the fight with himself. One hand caught your waist hard enough to pull you against him while the other stayed tangled with your fingers like he still refused to let go completely.
Fireworks burst somewhere above the harbor, color flashing across closed eyes and smoke-heavy air, but the sound felt distant compared to the sharp jump of your heartbeat. And somehow beneath all the chaos, there was hesitation there too, like he still expected you to pull away.
But you didn’t, the second you kissed him back, something in him broke completely. His grip tightened. A quiet sound caught in his throat before he buried it by kissing you harder, all heat and adrenaline and months worth of carefully avoided feelings collapsing at once.
When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. His forehead nearly rested against yours, breath uneven. “.Well,” Buggy muttered after a second, voice rougher than before. “That probably made things worse.”
You stared at him. “For the Marines?” you asked softly.
Buggy grinned again at last, “No,” he said. “For me, but that's okay.” A cannon fired somewhere behind you, snapping your two attention back to the situation at hand. “Since you’re staying, you stick with me and one rule,” Buggy said, pointing dramatically at you. “Don’t die.”
“That’s your rule?”
“It’s a very important rule.” You shook your head slightly, despite the smile threatening to show.
Buggy glanced at the ship again and then back at you, giving you a quick kiss. “Let’s get that map.”
~~~~~ Bonus Scene ~~~~~
Crocodile didn’t look up from his papers when you walked in. “Sit,” said Crocodile flatly. You sat down quickly, not wanting to upset him. A cigar glowed faintly between his fingers. He flipped a page, then another and the silence stretched. So, you waited.
Finally, “Explain,” Crocodile said.
You blinked. “Explain what?”
That earned you a slow, tired glance. The kind that suggested he already knew everything and was just deciding how annoyed he should be about it. “This,” he said. He dropped the newspaper onto the desk and slid across polished wood.
The headline read “BUGGY THE CLOWN HAS LOVER?” Underneath was a picture of the two of you kissing on the dock. You couldn’t completely tell it was you, but Crocodile knew. Hell, when you two made it back, Buggy was telling everyone you two were together.
You exhaled through your nose. “Oh.”
Crocodile’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh,” he repeated.
You gestured vaguely. “Well, you heard we got together, I just didn’t realize this was going around in the news”
Crocodile leaned back slightly in his chair as sand began to swirl around him. “So,” he said slowly, “will the clown’s personal life affect my assistant's ability to perform their job.”
You hesitated, then decided honesty was safer, “It shouldn’t impact my ability to perform my job.” You said carefully.
Crocodile tapped ash into a tray. “You are my assistant,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And you are also on my payroll.”
“Yes.”
“And you are currently classified as ‘Buggy’s lover in marine intelligence reports.”
You sighed. “Well, it is accurate.”
Crocodile stared at you for a long moment, and his cigar embers glowed faintly. “You truly like that idiot clown?” Crocodile asked.
You didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”
Another long silence, then Crocodile leaned back again, exhaling slowly. “Of all the variables I expected to impact the Cross Guild,” he muttered, “your emotional entanglement with that clown was not one of them. I honestly thought it would have been Mihawk, he seemed more your type.”
You smile lightly, “Buggy would be offended by that.”
“I am not concerned with offending him.” Crocodile said immediately.
You studied him. “So, am I in trouble?”
That got a pause, Crocodile looked at you for a long moment debating his answer, “For now no,” he said. “But the clown will not interfere with any of the assignments that I give you.”
You nodded; that was totally fair.
Crocodile stood and with that the meeting was over. As you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “One more thing.” You turned, Crocodile didn’t look at you directly as he reached for another cigar, “If the clown causes you any troubles let me know.”
Warnings: Reader-Insert, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Reader-Insert, Reader is having a bad day, Soft Buggy, Protective Buggy, Buggy cares about his crew, Reader is the crew’s sailmaker
Summary: Your captain is a selfish man with little regard for others. That ends up working out in your favor. Or, the same story but from another perspective.
Characters/Relationships: Buggy/Gender-Neutral Reader, Cabaji, Mohji, Buggy’s Band of Pirates
Words: 4.6k
A/N: Thank y’all so much for the love and support on Part 1!! It’s so lovely to see other Buggy enjoyers out there! This part is the same set of events from the first part, just focused on Buggy. Part 3 coming soon! Until then, please enjoy!!
—————
Today was wonderful. The sea was calm, the weather was nice, and a grand party was in full swing. The Buggy Pirates had stumbled into a handsome amount of treasure on a seemingly deserted island, and there was even a small town nearby that allowed— or, more accurately, were forced to allow— the crew to restock on food, clothes, and booze. The townspeople were quite agreeable, stepping nicely out of the way when Buggy threatened to erase their little village with a flashy ‘kaboom!’ That was a couple of days ago, and now the crew was back at sea and on the hunt for another score.
The Big Top was loud and chaotic, as it always was during a party. Crewmen smiled and laughed heartily as they knocked back tankard after tankard of booze until they swayed drunkenly across the deck. Shanties rang through the air, off-key and slurred, and louder than all the rest was their one and only captain, Buggy the Clown. He reveled in the admiration of his crew, chest puffed out with pride as they complimented his “negotiation” skills. Oh, how he adored his crew’s praise and adoration. Even if they could be a disingenuous bunch of sycophants at times, they were his bunch of disingenuous sycophants. There was one particular member notably missing from today’s festivities, however.
“Are any of the sails in need of repair?” He had asked Mohji, and the beast-tamer shook his head. “No clothing in need of mending, either?” Again, negative. Buggy huffed and stomped his foot no differently than a petulant child would. “Then where is our sailmaker?” If there was anyone whose praise he soaked in the most happily, it was that of the crew’s sailmaker. You were the sole member of the Buggy Pirates whose praise was always genuine, a true gem in a sea of empty words and yes-men to stay on Buggy’s good side. That honesty earned you a nice little spot in the captain’s good graces alongside Mohji and Cabaji.
With such a privilege came a certain degree of neediness from the captain, however. Being the preferred source of praise made it all the more important that his sailmaker was present for his victories and flashiest moments. The compliments of the crew were a wondrous boost to his ego, yes, but you were different. Buggy would never admit aloud— he barely found it in himself to admit it mentally— that your praise set his flashy heart aflutter every now and then. And by every now and then, that meant every single time. He basked in each compliment and preened under your words of admiration, always over the moon to know that you found him just as amazing as he truly was. Or, more precisely, how amazing he wanted to be, but he wasn’t quite ready to address the immense need for validation at the risk of spiraling into his own insecurities and failures. There were far flashier and more interesting things than therapy in the life of a feared pirate, after all.
One of said flashier and more interesting things was supposed to be this party, but Buggy found his mood dampened by the absence of the one person who would feed his ego the way he liked best. His voice disappeared from the drunken shanties echoing above deck and he instead opted to sit around, watching and waiting as he grumpily nursed a bottle of booze. The more time passed without seeing you on deck, the more furious he became. What nerve did that sailmaker have, ditching a party thrown by the great captain Buggy? He had half a mind to hunt you down and toss you overboard for snubbing him, but he was well aware that such thoughts were nothing but empty threats. He huffed at his weakness before calling Cabaji over. “You.” He grumbled, sitting back in his seat. “You haven’t seen the sailmaker, have you?” When Cabaji shook his head in reply, Buggy huffed again, shooting out of his chair and tossing his arms up. “You’re Chief of Staff! How do you not know where one of our most important staff is?!”
The swordsman straightened up as Buggy raised his voice, drawing a few drunken stares from nosey crewmen. Even as one of the higher-ranking members of the crew, Cabaji would rather not piss off the captain. A guess would be better than nothing, at least. “I haven’t seen them since the party started,” he explained, “but I did notice they were lounging in their hammock beforehand. Didn’t talk to anyone or get up to do anything. Seemed kinda down, now that I think about it.” Apparently that guess was good enough, because Buggy was no longer shouting. The clown returned to his seat, gaze downcast as he pondered something that Cabaji had no real interest in. They were in the middle of a party, and he wanted to get back to the festivities. As such, he was more than happy to scram when Buggy dismissed him with an irritated wave.
Buggy’s previous rage had fizzled out into… something. No longer rage and not quite irritation, but certainly not contentment. It was an odd feeling that left his chest feeling unusually heavy, as if Richie was sitting right on top of his sternum. It was frustrating, and he knew that it had to do with you since he had only started feeling this way after talking to Cabaji. He had said that you seemed down, but what did that mean? Down as in depressed, or maybe ill? Illness would explain why you’d stay in your hammock all day, but he supposed a fair bout of depression could do the same. Regardless of why, though, he demanded your company. Perhaps that was selfish of him, but he didn’t entirely care. He was practically entitled to it as your captain, and he sure as hell planned on using that entitlement to his benefit.
There was only one problem. One itsy-bitsy, teensy-weensy issue that left Buggy wracking his brain for a plan: he would have to find a way to get you to come to him. The possibility of rejection was hardly an issue. He was your captain, and he knew as well as you did that declining his summons was a death sentence in and of itself. No— it would just be lame to ask his sailmaker to come hang out with him, like some snot-nosed kid begging their friend to come and play outside. And if Buggy’s reputation was anything to consider, he would not under any circumstances make himself look anything less than utterly flashy. Somehow, though, he had the feeling that bursting into your space with his usual theatrics would not give him his desired result. Even if he did manage to get you up like that, you would undoubtedly be less than eager to sing his praises. Cabaji said that you weren’t feeling well, and that demanded at least a modicum of restraint— something that Buggy did not do well.
He took a sip of booze to hopefully get the creative juices flowing, but he still came up short. How could he possibly rouse you from your hammock, lift your spirits, and get you to come spend time with him instead of being all by yourself? He reached to adjust his coat on his shoulders and froze the moment his hand grasped the bright-orange garment. There was an idea. It wasn’t a great idea by any means, but an idea all the same. Ill-planned with no real explanation, and it would surely crumble if they asked any questions, but it was all his lightly buzzed mind could come up with and better than admitting that maybe, just maybe, he was missing you. Only a little, if anyone had to know. Not that he would tell them.
After making sure that his crew was still well-occupied with the party, he shrugged his coat off and reclined where he sat. To anyone else, he was the picture of relaxation with his hands folded casually behind his head. If anyone noticed that his coat had mysteriously disappeared, the warm weather made a wonderful scapegoat. Meanwhile, a disembodied hand discreetly maneuvered below deck, holding his coat tight. Muscle memory made it a breeze for his hand to swiftly navigate its way to where a certain someone’s hammock was strung up. He tossed the coat over what he hoped was the right person, even taking the time to tuck it around them before speedily recalling the appendage to reattach to his wrist. An odd, fluttering sensation bubbled up in his chest as he set his plan in motion. It was the very same feeling he would get every time you complimented him, and it left his cheeks just a tad rosier than they would be ordinarily. Easy to blame on the booze, but even he didn’t buy that weak excuse.
That unbearable fluttering intensified as Buggy put on his best mask of irritation and stomped over to Cabaji, who was mid-drinking contest with Mohji. The beast-tamer was the first to notice his approach, eyes practically bulging out of his skull as he choked on his drink. Cabaji cackled in response, but a loud “ahem” from Buggy was all it took to shut him up. If he looked pissed before, he looked ready to kill now. The acrobat set his drink aside and stood, waiting for orders and trying to look the least amount of put out after having his revelry interrupted again.
“Go get the sailmaker.” Buggy ordered simply, and Cabaji wasn’t sure whether to be more or less terrified for the poor soul since Buggy wasn’t yelling. The captain turned away before Cabaji could give an affirmative, waving one hand in a vague gesture toward the stern of the ship. “They’ll be meeting me in my quarters. No disturbances.” The last words were less of a request and more of a warning, and Cabaji caught the message immediately. Whatever that poor sailmaker did, they were in for it. He almost felt bad for them.
While Cabaji made his way below deck to relay Buggy’s order, the clown found his heart plagued with nerves yet again. This whole situation would be utterly humiliating if it went wrong. He was very well aware of his reputation as a ruthless, yet somewhat agreeable captain. His crew was full of freaks and misfits that were— per his own words— less flashy and cool than him, but bearable enough to keep around. At times, he truly enjoyed and took pride in his odd band. If he was going to be the flashiest pirate the world had ever known, it only made sense to have knife-throwing acrobats and swordsmen who could swallow their own swords as part of his legendary crew. And while he would never tell them to their miserable faces, he quite valued his crew. Not in the way that stupid straw-hat treated his cronies, of course, but there was a certain fondness that he held for them. He wouldn’t trade his men for any other band of pirates, and that applied doubly so for those in his good graces. Their problems were his problems, for better or worse, and Buggy hated when his crew whined and complained. Naturally, that just meant that he had to be the best captain possible and provide for the idiots he called his crew. Right now, that meant putting aside his fearsome reputation and comforting his sailmaker. Partially to get what he wanted, and partially to get rid of that annoying sinking feeling in his chest.
Cabaji soon returned to the party, and that was Buggy’s signal to head back to the cabin. He subtly weaved his way out of the festivities and to his quarters, then made sure the room looked presentable for his sailmaker’s arrival. He wasn’t necessarily worried about their opinion on how things looked, but he supposed that a bit of care should be put into the environment if he’s to comfort them properly. As he smoothed out the sheets and displayed his most impressive maps, he mentally rehearsed exactly what he wanted to say. It had to be flashy, but not forceful. Comforting, but not too soft. There was only so much sappiness allotted to a feared pirate captain such as himself.
After settling on exactly how he wanted to go about the encounter, Buggy slipped out of the room and busied himself with sharpening his knives just around the corner. He would wait for your arrival, allow the suspense to build, and then bam! A flashy entrance to begin his perfect scheme for your praise. He soon hears soft footsteps creaking closer, and a quick glance reveals the very person he’s been waiting for. All at once, that fluttering feeling comes back again. It takes a deep breath and a small mental pep-talk to will away his nerves, and then it’s showtime. He adjusts his hat and ensures his hair looks good, and he can’t help but grin when he hears your voice coming from just inside the room.
“Buggy…”
That’s his cue, and he slips inside to make his presence known. “You called?” He replies, still sporting that signature manic grin of his. It’s impossible to mask the delight he feels at seeing you before him, and his heart does a funny little flip-flop when he sees his coat in your hands. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen and stand a little straighter at the sound of his voice, how your movements are almost robotic when you turn and hold out his coat to him. A small part of his mind wonders if it smells like you now, but he’s quick to shove that thought far, far away and stroll past you instead.
“It’s not very flashy to be early, you know.” He begins, following the plan he had mentally laid out. It helps to recenter him and silence the mix of odd thoughts and feelings that always seems to well up when you’re around, allowing him to appear relatively unbothered. “Dramatic, fashionably late entrances always steal the show.” With a flourish and a dramatic wave of his arm, he takes a seat on the bed. So far so good. He doesn’t allow you to get a word in as he continues— if you said something unexpected, it could turn this whole plan on its head. He just needed to fill the space until he found a way in. “You’ve been notably absent today, little sailmaker. When I throw a party, I expect everyone to attend and flashily bask in my presence.” He allows a moment for a dramatic pause, narrowing his eyes at you. It’s only when you straighten up and open your mouth to speak that he cuts in again, his dramatics working exactly as he intended. You’re hanging off of his every word, and he would be a liar to say he wasn’t thoroughly enjoying it.
“Why weren’t you there? Explain yourself.” He demands, taking a moment to look you up and down. The corners of his mouth downturn ever so slightly as he takes in how tense you are. Is that all because of him? Maybe he could stand to be a bit gentler in his approach. He switches gears and detaches one of his hands, guiding it to the small of your back. A small shiver runs down his spine at the feel of your warmth beneath his gloved hand. He applies gentle pressure and guides you to the chaise just near the bed, then retracts his hand for the sake of your comfort and his sanity. It does little to help, however, because seeing you sitting so prettily right there has his heart doing somersaults in his chest. His fingers tap nervously against the sheets as he awaits your response, and those nerves quickly cool into concern when he notices the way your expression shifts.
You don’t even look him in the eye when you finally reply, and your meek, shaky voice fills him with the urge to obliterate whatever it is that has you fighting tears in this moment. “I just… wasn’t feeling it, Captain. It’s been a rough day.” You admit, and he’s moving from the bed to sit next to you before he has time to think about what to do next. Silence drags on after that as he contemplates what to say. You sound so small— he’s never seen you like this before. To know that one of his dearest crew members has been suffering alone is almost offensive, as if your lack of seeking his help sooner meant that he was incapable of helping at all. He’s tempted to scold you at first, but then he remembers his plan.
Be gentle. Be nice. Lift their spirits, convince them to join the party, and bask in their praise and your ingenious success.
But right now, Buggy finds that his clever scheme is the last thing on his mind. Your wellbeing matters more right now, so he sets aside his ego for once and does the right thing, detaching his hand and moving it to gently tug his coat from your hands. You let go of it easily, and he’s quick to lay it over your shoulders again. He tucks it around you silently, a stand-in for a hug that he isn’t sure he could handle giving. He finally speaks after that, his gravelly voice softened by concern. “And you didn’t think to ask anyone aboard to help you?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. He doesn’t bother letting you respond before he continues, his tone a little harsher than before. “What ship are you on right now?”
“The Big Top, Captain.” You reply quickly, and he huffs before continuing to work toward his point.
“And who is your captain aboard this flashy ship?”
He watches as you take a breath before replying, “You are, Buggy.” The sound of his name on your lips briefly steals his focus, but he’s quick to recover.
“And what does that make you?”
Your answer isn’t so quick this time, and he watches you expectantly. Of course you wouldn’t know what he’s getting at, not with the entire reason you’re here right now.
“A… sailmaker?” You finally reply, clearly unsure. He’s quick to shoot you down.
“Wrong.”
The moment he does that, he very quickly regrets it. He watches as your expression cycles through surprise and offense, and he knows he’s really fucked up when he sees tears welling up in your pretty eyes. He has to fix this right now, otherwise his conscience will never recover. So, Buggy does the one thing he knows how to do best— make a scene. He reaches forward, placing a finger beneath his poor sailmaker’s chin and directing you to look up at him. The sudden movement seems to shock you out of your tears, and he can’t help but internally preen a little at how breathless he’s got you from a simple touch. If the situation were different, he certainly would have teased you. Right now, though, he just takes you in. His sea-green eyes linger on your stunned expression with a mix of emotions he dares not put a name to, and all he knows is that you look strikingly beautiful right now. Fragile and vulnerable, yet gorgeous all the same, and it’s impossible for him to hide the soft appreciation in his gaze. In this moment, your praise and his selfish little plan are no longer a thought. He just wants to make this right and let you know that he wants you to feel better, even if his pride won’t let him say that outright.
“It makes you my responsibility, you fool.” He finally continues, and he’s almost shocked at how gentle his voice sounds when the words come out. It’s not an outright admission, but it gets his point across clearly— you matter to me. He shifts a touch closer as he continues, wanting your full attention on him and nothing else. He’s always loved being the center of the room, but this moment feels different. The way you’re looking at him right now is different from how you usually would, different from how anyone looks at him. He hates the way that it brings back that fluttery feeling in his chest, but he pushes through to finish making his point.
“Like it or not, you’re my sailmaker and therefore my responsibility.”
You are one of the most valued members of my crew, and I don’t want to see you in tears.
“That means you’ll attend the parties I so flashily throw— and if, for whatever reason, you can’t…” he trails off, his grip on your chin tightening ever so slightly as nerves set in all over again. When he continues, his voice is little more than a gruff murmur, “…you’ll come to me personally instead.”
I want you by my side, no matter your mood.
With that final order and his true admission behind it, Buggy’s heart is pounding so hard that he worries you can hear it. He can feel his cheeks and ears burning, and he’s only able to hold your gaze for a moment longer before withdrawing for the sake of retaining his dignity. When he hears your soft “Yes, Captain,” he grumbles and immediately relocates to his desk. From here, you won’t be able to see the way his ears nearly match the color of his nose or hear the way his heart is racing a mile a minute. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t look back. There’s a long silence after that, and he only looks at you again when he hears you stand. His gaze is sharp, but not unkind, and he’s back to willing his heart to calm down once you sit again.
Several more tense minutes of silence pass, and Buggy isn’t sure how to proceed. For once, he isn’t in the mood to party. He would much rather stay here with you, in the quiet of his cabin with his coat wrapped around you. He wants you near, but not at all for the same reason as before. When he hears a soft yawn from the chaise, he figures out exactly what to do next.
“Captain-“ You begin, and his hand detaches the moment your mouth opens. It floats into the air and points to the canopy bed. His canopy bed. Just when he had convinced it to calm down, his heart begins to race again.
“You’ll sleep there.” He says simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It isn’t, and he knows that, and he knows that you know that, but he doesn’t go back on his words. His hand lingers in midair as you hesitate, pointer finger extended toward the bed. His other hand begins to write on the map spread over his desk, a desperate attempt to seem nonchalant while his mind is floundering in the absence of a plan. Again, a tense silence falls over the room, broken only by the soft sound of his writing. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you pull his coat tighter around you. The sight thrills him more than he’ll ever admit. When you stand again, his eyes watch your every move.
He’s taut as a bowstring, wondering if you’ll listen or walk out. When you utter another soft “Yes, Captain,” he visibly relaxes and recalls his hand to his wrist. His eyes stay locked on you as you pad over to his bed, and it feels like his heart pounds louder and louder with every step you take. He’s honestly a little surprised by your obedience, but admitting that is also an admission that he had been preparing himself for rejection. When you climb into his bed, his heart does another flip-flop and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Watching you sink into his crimson silk sheets fills the room with a sudden intimacy that has a whole range of emotions rushing to the forefront of Buggy’s mind.
He could look away and shut his eyes tight, but he would still have the image of his gorgeous sailmaker wrapped in his coat and nestled in his sheets burned into his memory. And by the gods, what an image that was. He immediately returns his gaze to the parchment on his desk when he notices you starting to look his way, putting on a very fragile mask of indifference. Well, as indifferent as he could look with his ears and cheeks growing redder by the second. He hears a soft sigh come from the bed and he glances from the corner of his eye for only a second, his mind running wild with why you would sigh. Was it a content sigh? It had to be, right? You looked so comfy and he was well aware of how soft his bed was, but what if—
“Captain?” Your timid call pulls Buggy out of his own head, and he responds with a soft grunt. If he looked over and you looked anywhere near as cute as you sounded right now, it would be curtains for him. When you’re quiet for a long moment, though, he passes a small glance at you.
That’s when he sees it.
A soft smile on your lips. Subtle and devastatingly gorgeous, just like the rest of you. When you speak again, he feels as though he’ll melt. “Thank you. For all of this.” He stops writing as the feels the equivalent of an entire crate of Buggy Balls exploding in his chest all at once, and his ears must certainly match his nose in hue by now. A good ten seconds pass before he lets out a long exhale and starts writing again, more to distract himself from the warmth radiating from his face than actually needing to get work done. He continues to mindlessly scribble until his heart rate returns to normal, and by then he can hear you snoring softly. He waits another minute for good measure before standing and slowly making his way to the edge of the bed, which proves to be another fatal mistake on his end.
You’re stunning. Completely and utterly ethereal, and you’re sleeping so peacefully in his bed. The sight renders him breathless, no different than if he had stumbled across the greatest treasure in the East Blue. So much of Buggy is tempted to reach out and just feel you, to just make sure that this is real and not some cruel dream. In the end, he isn’t sure that he could handle that confirmation and opts to keep his hands to himself. It was already difficult enough to deal with the fact that he very clearly felt more than simple camaraderie for his lovely little sailmaker, and he wasn’t ready to address those feelings just yet. Instead, he would settle into the nearby chaise for the night and rest there, his old plan to return to the party with you at his side forgotten. In all honesty, he had the feeling that even if the entire crew worshipped the ground he walked on, it would be a mere drop in the sea in comparison to the warmth of this quiet moment. They would be just fine without him until morning.
Perhaps that was selfish of him, but he didn’t entirely care.
