WOULD U WRITE BUGGY X ENEL FANFICTION? 👀
I mean, out of my own volition I wouldn’t because I don’t personally ship them, but if you asked, you clownfucker of a sunshine, then m a y b e.
warnings: none.
Also here, for you to love:
“Oi,” he heard a voice, and because of it he woke up. He was sore—not an unusual way to awaken if he was right about the body that laid by his side. “I’m hungry.”
Irritated, yet still half-asleep, Buggy replied, his tone snappy. “Then go make food. Leave me alone, I want to sleep.”
Then he tried to remember what his dream had been about; maybe of beating Shanks, or maybe of taking his revenge on that strawhat-wearing boy.
(It had been about the days of old.)
“You dare to tell a God to make his own food?” the getting-annoying voice replied.
Buggy opened his eyes and glared at Enel. “I can’t, in fact, get up. So yes, go make your own food.”
Enel snorted and Buggy just knew he had that damned smirk of his plastered on his face.
But that didn’t mean much when the other man decided to lean down and kiss him. Not in the hard, full-of-lust kind of way they had kissed the night before and so many others. No, this one was just a peck, a soft one at that.
And it—
It made Buggy feel things he wasn’t ready to feel, not after the clusterfuck that had been his entire life.
(It had been nice, dammit. And—)
(And it had made him really fucking happy, so there was that, too.)
Blush on his cheeks, Buggy tried to drown himself with the pillows and ignore the deep and rough chuckles coming from his bedmate.
So what if he couldn’t get up? It certainly wasn’t his fault.
Hangover, still wanting to sleep for the next fourteen hours and with a pain in the ass, both literal and the one making his way into his kitchen. Truly, mornings like these were the worst.
(But, he could —kind of— get used to it.)
(Maybe.)
