#buggy fluff

Buggy heaved an irritable sigh and the incompetence of some people when the sound of a finger snap echoed in the silence and stole the light away from him again.

Left standing in the dark, Buggy was fuming. He turned and glowered at you. You were unfazed, bathing in the light again with a smile that dazzled. "You could always share the spotlight?"

The suggestion angered the clown and Buggy stomped over to you. He didn't stop a few paces away. No, he marched until he was in your face. His red nose nearly bumping into yours as he continued to glare and intimidate.

"Wow." You whispered. Was that awe he heard? "This light does wonders for the blue in your eyes."

"Stop stealing my spotlight." He warned.

You stared at him innocently and Buggy absolutely hated the way it made his knees weak. He sometimes wondered if you had the powers of a Devil Fruit but he remembered that you've saved him from far too many near-drownings.

"Why are you here?" Buggy demanded.

You stepped back and looked around at the civilians in his clutches. "I love Orange Town. Did you know that? Many of these people are friends."

Buggy rolled his eyes and clapped sarcastically. "Hooray for you. So many friends it's a wonder you can keep count."

"It's actually pretty easy." You told him matter-of-factly and then returned to the topic of Orange Town. "They've sheltered me and given me supplies. So, you can imagine that I'm not too thrilled with you for destroying it in your pillage."

"Pirate's pillage. I'm not giving it back."

"No?" You walked back over to him with a mysterious smile. Stopping just as close as he had. This time, Buggy could smell the soft scent of powder, fresh grass, and the sea. It was making him heady. "Not even if I asked sweetly?"

If Buggy had no audience, he would have caved then and there. But as it happened, he had all eyes on him.

"You should leave." He said, struggling to keep his breathing level. Maybe you ate a Dizzy-Dizzy fruit or something that made you so intoxicating for him.

There was a sudden rush of footsteps as one of Buggy's crew burst in. "Captain Buggy! The rubber-boy is strapped and ready for interrogation."

Buggy groaned at the ill timing of his captives reveal. You, however, smiled. "Rubber-boy? Now this I have to see."

Too distracted with your presence, Buggy allowed you stay and watch. If he had paid careful attention, he would have realised that you recognised Luffy and was more than happy to break the boy and his friends out.

“Just one hand Buggy?” You pout, gripping said hand like it would up and leave if you loosened your grip for even a second. 

Your lover rolls his eyes groggily, not having left the bed yet, but knowing well enough to put some distance between your bodies as he tries to leave for the day. 

“That’s enough to please you if I’m remembering the other night correctly.” he retorts, voice dragged down to a soft growly hum that makes you feel all the more clingy. 

You huff at his innuendo and scoot closer to him, cupping his cheek in your grasp and running your thumb over his stubble. “Today is different, I want allll of you sweetness! Can’t sleep without ya!” 

Buggy smirks,”Beg for me a little more?”

“Please baby?” You say, wasting no time before giving into the clown’s request. “I’ll miss you so much in this big bed alone!” 

To emphasize your point, you roll onto your back and spread an arm out rubbing yourself against the soft blue sheets as if making a snow angel. Buggy smiles at your antics and presses a kiss to your intertwined hands, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The glow of the moon struggles to find you in his darkened room, but you’re certain it’s still well into night time out there.

While you're distracted with wiggling and trying to calculate the hour of day, Buggy pulls himself from the bed and makes it two steps away before you’re pulling at him.

“Pretty please! Think of all the amazing dreams you’ll have when you come back to bed!” You insist, popping his other hand off of his body. Turning back with an amused expression, Buggy shuffles out of his pajama shirt with what he’s got while replying.

“Think of all the flashy dreams you will have when you go back to bed.” He suggests with a yawn, getting his shirt off.

“It won’t be the same if you’re not starring in them, my love!” 

“Whats this? You can’t conjure up the image of me without havin’ me present? Am I so fleeting from your mind?” Buggy tosses an arm across his forehead, throwing his head back as if his fainting couch isn’t in his office.

Though, the dark wood floor would certainly be more uncomfortable to dramatically fall into. Not to mention the cacophony of noise that would result in all the treasures and piles of miscellaneous gold, gems, pearls, and the like that spill from every surface if he was to fall to the floor and disrupt them. 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say!” You huff, reaching out for him. At his he peeks an eye out from under his arm and sends over a hopping leg, still dressed in his red shorts. It climbs into bed with you and entangles itself with your own.

“Not enough!” You protest, watching as the jester sits at his vanity, pouting when you notice that he stole a hand back from you to touch up his makeup, and light a few candles. 

“Hey I need that too! And your torso and your head and-”

“I think we’ve been spoilin’ them too much.” Buggy murmurs loudly to his reflection, sending you a teasing glance and a wink in the mirror. 

“Asshole,” You grumble, sinking into the sheets as he continues to get ready. 

☆

You wake with a start as you feel Buggy’s leg try to slither out from under you.

“Hey, watch it! You almost woke them.” He says, scolding the limb as it successfully leaps into his pants. 

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

The Captain looks from you to his leg and back again. “Look what ya did!”

“Give it back Buggy.” You whine, ignoring his conversation with his rouge limbs. Even going so far as to bat your lashes at him while also trailing your gaze up from his brown shoes to the waterfall of seablue tassels coming from his hat. 

“Aw don’t do that to me honey,” He huffs, turning his head away from your gaze. His makeup is the same as usual, but without your kola grip on him, Buggy was able to add extra glitter that catches the fleeting light in a way that makes you all the more insistent on having him close.

“Please my handsome clown, I wanna feel you against me.”

“Ah-” He puts his hands up as if trying to make an invisible wall to hide from your pleas.

“I’ll play with your hair.”

“Ah-” He pushes himself against the closed door like it’s the only thing holding him up against the power of your words.

“And you can rest your head on my chest.”

“Ah!” He pulls apart at the seams, but doesn’t move an inch towards you, body parts hovering in the air.

“I just want to spend the morning with the one I love, is that a crime?”

At that he crumbles to the floor with a groan.

“And if it is?” He asks, detached head still facing the wall away from you, his eyes screwed shut to avoid being pulled in by the sight of you under the covers.

“Since when are you against things that are illegal?” You scoff, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe I’ve turned into a new leaf!”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

“I’m making my own ones!” In a moment of risk, he opens his eyes and you pull the blanket back, reminding him that you had stolen one of his shirts to sleep in last night. The sight strikes another howl of false pain from him. He sends a hand to fumble with the door knob, while the other covers his eyes again. 

“Now, darling, I’m sure Mohji is waiting for-”

“What’s this!” You cry, joining him in the dramatics, “You’re leaving me for the lion tamer?”

“Don’t Be Ridiculous!" He screeches, pulling himself back together at the accusation.

“You’re right, Mohji can't possibly handle you alone, the uni-cyclist is probably waiting for you as well,” Wiping imaginary tears you spare your lover a glance and hold in a smirk at his mortified expression. “At least carry me to the cuck chair-”

“ENOUGH!” He cackles stomping over to you. Between giggles you pretend to cry over the scandal and he shakes his head at you wrapping the blankets around your frame.

“If I let you nap on the fainting couch will you drop this?” He asks, when you both catch your breath from the laughter that had overtaken you. 

“Fainting couch, a hand, and your entire bottom half.”

“Will you behave?”

“Only time will tell.”

“.... Deal.”

He dabs the edges of his red lip color, while muttering about how it needs to be smudged juuuust enough. And Buggy’s right, the quick touches soften the line until it won’t be immediately noticeable with the make-up smears and starts to wear off.

Buggy compliments himself on how well he lines up the triangles surrounding his eyes. Not too high, otherwise the blue stains his bandana. He drags the color through his eyebrows and says it’s for convenience, but he’s being too intentional.

He talks and chatters often enough about each step and his preferences that his S/O stores it all in their head and heart. They pay attention to the details.

Shaky lines? Shapes that are more blob-like and not as sharp? Blue on the edge of his bandana? The captain might be under the weather. Or he was being rushed. Maybe he’s pissed and a misplaced glance away from a fight.

On the other hand -getting catches of glitter and sparkle, lipstick so fresh and creamy that it left a print on his mug, even his lashes have a little extra going on. Even without all the make-up enhancements, Buggy is glowing.

Eventually, his partner asks try. They offer to help. Maybe they start with lipstick. Even though it’s not as easy as they expect (why are his lips so soft and squishy?), they do a decent job. Buggy’s staring in the mirror, assessing the skill, and they practically slam him back in the chair. They almost forgot a crucial step. 

With one hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place, their other is carefully dabbing at the layer of red they just laid on. Well, dabbing and smearing. It’s reminiscent of finger painting.

Aside from the in-crimson-ating fingerprint left on his cheekbone, Buggy’s impressed. He could get used to being pampered like this.

Sinking into the chair, Buggy let’s his partner continue. He’ll still talk through each step, and grumble when they don’t follow his exact directions, but he’s having fun.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

On the other side of the door, you frowned and hesitated. His voice sounded tired and grumpy. Had you taken too long and robbed him of time he’d rather be sleeping? Had he actually been upset that you had ordered him to bathe instead of asking? Had something come up in the time you’d been gone? Only one way to find out.

You had to stop and stare at Buggy once you were in the room. He looked gorgeous. You already knew he was hot but this was a different type of attractive. Even though the loose clothing you’d stolen for him (sorry Zoro) was casual sleepwear, the way it draped brought out the places where he was bulked up. Each lax section of soft cloth juxtaposed beautifully with the spots where muscle pushed against fabric. Shoulders, chest, and thighs stood out to you most, calling to you with the request to treat them as overstuffed pillows pressing at their cases. You admired him as your eyes made their way back up to his face. His hair was pulled back in a large messy bun that looked so, so soft and left his face completely unobscured. The refresh on makeup was skillfully executed and brought out all his features in a way that had your mouth run dry. The tempting lines of his lips stood out behind vibrant red. His brow and cheekbones were highlighted by slashes of blue. His sea-glass eyes looked all the brighter set against a rim of dark lashes and smudges. You were probably staring too long, but it was too difficult to look away.

Buggy didn’t mind. He can’t remember someone looking at him with awe this way before. It was the best balm he could've asked for to cover his freshly agitated self-loathing. He almost couldn’t believe that his efforts on his appearance had worked out so well. Feeling high off of his success, he couldn’t resist taking some time to gloat.

“Need help picking your jaw off the floor, sweetcheeks?” he teased. His teeth bared in a wide smile, splitting his face and narrowing his eyes. His canines shined white against the dark of his lips.

One hand flew over to you and held your chin. Buggy placed the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip, before rubbing the whole length of it down. Enraptured by the sight of your lip being pulled, Buggy stared and swallowed hard. His breath shook lightly, just like the breath he felt puff out against his hand. He let your lip flick back up before pressing his hand up to guide your gently parted mouth closed.

Feeling unsure of where things would go next, you cleared your throat and turned away. Maybe something routine would settle your nerves. Lotion. Yeah, that would work. The movements would be calming and it would let you stay in your own physical space until you were less flustered. Maybe it would even give you some time to cook up some vengeance and get the upper hand on the clown again.

Buggy was still taking up the chair at the desk, and you weren’t ready to breach the border of the bed yet. Luckily, there was a large pouf you could sit on and continue avoiding things. You tried not to let Buggy’s gleeful giggling at your expense goad you into saying something stupid to shut him up. Instead, you focused your attention on the calming smell of your lotion as you opened the tub. Delicate scents of amber, wood, and lavender greeted you and the pavlovian training from a long history of hard days smoothed out to this smell made you instantly loosen and breathe deeper.

“Were you a perfumier pre-pirate or something?” Buggy asked. He had made himself sound condescending, but you caught the interest in the way he looked over at you. 

You had noticed before how very unsubtly he had taken to your care products anyway. You had caught him sniffing at his own hair more than once since you’d washed it. If there was an occasion with an excuse for him to be close, his face tended to gravitate around your shoulders and head and you could’ve sworn he’d deepen his breath. It skirted the perfect line between sweet and pathetic for you to let it continue. Some part of you wondered if you would find it creepy from someone else, but a much larger part of you didn’t care.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, circus boy,” you scoffed. Having made quick work of your feet, you were now on to massaging the creamy lotion into the meat of your calf. 

“That’s not one of the things you’re allowed to call me,” he said, lip curling. “Closest you can get is ‘ringmaster’.” He paused then added as an afterthought, “You could always just keep it to ‘master’ too.”

“You wish,” you laughed out. You had switched to your other calf, the one closer to Buggy, and bent your leg towards yourself this time, tired of bending forward. Buggy’s rebuttal died on his lips as he watched your movements, especially the way it made your sleep shorts ride up. He didn’t know if he wanted to know how your hands felt, digging long stripes across skin and muscle, or how it felt to replace your hands with his, molding and admiring your body. His indecision only grew as you moved up to your thigh.

Noticing the long silence, you looked up at Buggy to see what had him distracted. His gaze was glued to your hands. To make sure that he was watching and not staring into the abyss, you leisurely slid your hands all the way back down to your ankle. His eyes intently followed the whole process. Definitely watching. Huh.

Going to the other thigh, you tried to decide how to react to that. Sure, he’s been flirty and so have you, but he’s also missed too many offers for closeness for you to think there was more to it. He’d shy from your hands more often than he would seek them and he tended to make himself scarce soon after your personal spaces mingled. That’s one of the things that tipped you off that he liked your shampoo and not you; it was the only time he would truly linger. You had decided that he yearned for touch but not your touch.

The thought had little pangs going through you, causing you to slow and slump. You looked back up at him and saw the longing in his eyes before he covered it up by screwing up his face and sticking his tongue out at you. What a fucking child. He’s perfect.

So, you treated that longing as what you thought it was: pure touch-starvation. You’ve been there and knew that pain. Honestly, you fell into it pretty quickly. Recently that was exacerbated by leaving Luffy’s crew, who would keep you sated on that front. Well… mostly Luffy, but Usopp was a hugger and Sanji would never be upset with contact. Nami would sometimes tolerate it, giving you the energy of a standoffish cat beginning to accept your presence. The most you broke out of Zoro were playful shoulder bumps and other such affectionate roughness. Reminiscing aside, you didn’t want Buggy to ache like that.

Gesturing towards Buggy with the lotion, you asked, “I’m guessing you didn’t use any yet?”

“Why would I? I don’t need it,” he responded, furrowing his brows.

“Well you won’t die without it I’ll give you that,” you started, “but it makes your skin soft and smells good.” You were surprised to see him take a moment to think over your offer so quickly. His eyes lingered on your legs again, and you worked to tamp down the hopes for affection it brought up in you.

“Looks like too much work,” Buggy dismissed, getting up and making for the bed.

“I’ll do it for you,” you pressed, falling victim to your own yearning for contact.

Buggy froze completely, even halting his breath, repeating the sounds of your voice in his mind to make sure they actually made those words. No way. Yeah, you did that lovely hair wash and seemed soft on him, but he figured that was mostly from pity for how helpless and bedraggled he was as a head. There’s no way you’re here just handing out a massage. “Care to repeat that, dollface?”

“I’ll do the lotioning for you, like, give you a massage,” you explained. The fact that he still hasn’t moved was making you nervous. It was a good thing you couldn’t see the wide-eyed look of startled prey frozen on his face. “If you don’t want me to that’s fi-”

“No!” Buggy yelped. Head and torso spun around, lifting off his lower body in his haste to face you. His lower body caught up and he popped back down onto his waist, causing his clothes to flutter. “I mean, uhhh-” he cleared his throat “I don’t mind. It’ll be a nice service for your Captain.” By the end of that, he at least started to sound smug and teasing again. There was no saving it, but you were gracious enough to let the fumbles pass this time. It helped that his eagerness was flattering.

“Sure thing, Cap,” you said, messing up the title to keep at least a small level of disrespect to rub at him. He was too fun to bait.

“It’s Captain. Captain Buggy, actually,” he told you. He backed up and sat on the edge of the bed to watch your approach. “It’s easy - Cap-tain Bu-ggy.” 

You huffed good-naturedly at him talking to you like you were a child, split syllables and all. Might as well continue toying with him.

“Cap-” you kneeled down between his legs “-tain” you had a hand at each of his ankles “Boo-” his left pant leg was pushed above his knee “-gie!” and the right one follows.

“You are such a brat,” he chastised, trying to sound stern and pissed off, but he was too distracted by the way the mischievous glint in your eye had his heart pounding. He had no clue what you were planning, but he was sure he would hate and love it. “Say it right.”

“Or what?” you snorted dismissively, rolling your eyes and trailing light fingertips down his shins. Unfortunately, that was a step too far; something in him felt you saw him as a foolish boy in that moment, making him lash out.

Your cheer fell the moment his hand fisted the front of your shirt. His grip tugged you in and his face got as close as possible without breaching to touch you. For a fraction of a second, it didn’t matter how pretty those eyes were; all you could see of them was anger. 

“Sorry, Captain Buggy,” you mumbled quickly. For a tense few breaths, his wild eyes peeled yours apart. You let him, wanting to show compliance and that you had nothing to hide. You got to watch first-hand how the fight left him in his relaxing brow, drooping shoulders, and slipping grip. Those fiery eyes lost their burn and his look closed off into something you couldn’t understand.

“Whatever. Just don’t do it again,” he grumbled. Sometime when the two of you had more practice opening to each other, you needed to ask him precisely what ‘it’ was. For now, you would file this away to await that day.

“I won’t,” you promised, truly meaning it. It wasn’t due to the threat but because you hated when he was upset. You started to get in your own head; somehow it seemed each time you moved to get close to him that you would upset him. The night that you two shared a hammock had ended up lovely, but you couldn’t help but worry that you were crossing boundaries he had tried to express to you through these turns of temper.

Buggy noticed how your hands at the lotion had become limp and hesitant. You didn’t want to touch him. But you offered! You can’t take it away from him now; he needs it. Hot shame broke across his skin at the realization that he had lashed out at you and made you nervous to touch him. You should never be scared of him and he resolved to stop giving you reason to be. You should look at him and see a reliable Captain, a brave protector. A lifelong lover. The ache was back and more pungent than ever.

You were still stalling, tracing nonsense into the lotion and shifting on your knees, when the hand that had been loosely holding your shirt instead smoothed it out and Buggy’s other hand grabbed your own and placed it against his calf. The hand at your chest rubbed soothing swipes back and forth beneath your collarbone, easing the creases he’d made out of the fabric of your top. You began to mimic this motion on the side of Buggy’s leg. Before you started to commit to your task, you looked up to meet Buggy’s eyes. He wouldn’t say the words, but his eyes were glassy and pleading for forgiveness. While words were nice, you could feel how genuine the apology was through his caring and nervous touch, and for now that was enough for you.

A tentative smile eased onto your lips and Buggy felt some of the pressure in his throat and chest loosen its grip. Your other hand joined the first in kneading his muscles and his lungs were freed enough to stretch full again.

He watched you intently while you set about lotioning his legs. The task helped you ease back up and you quickly took to enjoying it; touching Buggy always had your heart fluttering. You felt like you were edging on something unknown and unexplored and exciting. You had gained quite the affection for this temperamental and wounded man. You wanted desperately to be the one to soothe and comfort him and make it so more of that goofy and loving side of him could flourish. The goofiness has come out quite easily but he holds his love very close to his chest. You imagine that is the place that has been the most damaged with how he guards it. His pride also seems to be held quite close for fear of injury.

Buggy hummed out relief as you pressed more firmly into his calf. It gave you more confidence in your touch to know that you were making him feel good. Working thumbs down next to his shin, you marveled at the fact that even the soft hairs there were blue. You found it fitting that so much blue was wrapped into his looks: blue like the sea that promised the freedom that he endlessly chased, blue like the sky that has been his roof since boyhood, blue like the melancholy that steeped into his being. Red fit him too - his nose, his lips, his passion, his rage - but the blue seemed to run deeper.

Tending to the second leg, you broke yourself from your reverie to check in on Buggy. He was looking down at you, but you could tell from the glaze in his eyes that he wasn’t actually seeing you. Wherever he was in his head, you hoped that it was kind. 

You’d happily take advantage of his zoning out to stare at that pretty face for a while. The makeup highlighting his features looked extra meticulous, not a single wobble in the diamonds over his eyes. The color he put on tonight was richer by his lips and eyes than you’d ever seen it. Dark smudges fit him so nicely; they made his eyes more entrancing and the sea-green of his irises stand out. You trailed your gaze down to admire the other feature he’d emphasized; his lips. The bright crimson of his painted smile bled into a hypnotizing deep carmine right where you would kiss. Your new favorite color was interrupted by a flash of pink - a nervous tongue flicking to wet his lips over makeup - and you looked up.

Buggy’s eyes have managed to darken even more with his blown pupils. There was a questioning furrow to his brow but no apprehension to match it. His posture seemed a lot more leisurely than the hard set of his shoulders you had seen after his outburst. It made you smile brightly up at him, pleased that you were making him feel better. His eyes shot away from you, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flush peeking out on his cheeks. You placed a hand on each of his knees, giving them a playful squeeze.

“Wearing anything under these?” you asked, tugging at the pant legs shoved up on his thighs. Buggy took a second to choke on his surprise. He recovered quickly.

“No, but don’t let that stop you,” he teased. Ah, there’s that cheesy wink, tongue click and all. What a man. It was even better knowing that he’d shy away the moment your fingers touched his waistband. You eyed that waistband longingly for a moment before deciding to keep things away from your other massage talents.

“Captain!” you gasped in mock offense. “You’d offer such a thing to a pure maiden like me?”

“Pure maiden?” he laughed out, much too amused at the idea. “Oh, sure, the same pure maiden who offered a ‘tasting’ to that pretty boy chef?”

Despite laughing with him, you still gave his thigh a little smack for the jab.

“He was the one who responded to a compliment of his palette with ‘thank you, love, my tongue is well trained’!” you defended, making sure to put on a terrible impression when quoting Sanji. “What was I supposed to do? Not flirt back?”

“Do you always just flirt black?” Buggy’s eyes and tone turned more intense but not angry. You were happy to see that nothing harsh spilled into his expression with that focus.

“Only if I enjoy a person,” you responded evenly, a bit apprehensive of where he could be leading this. “I don’t play to anyone I don’t like.”

A pleased grin slowly split his face and you focused in on his shining teeth framed in blood red lips.  His words came out light and airy in a way that made you suspect a trap beneath their veneer when he asked, “Then tell me, little tease, do you like me?”

Buggy’s sudden confidence quickly had yours faltering. It felt the same as when someone toys with you because they know something you don’t. He had to have something up his sleeve to set you up like that. Sure, he had a moment earlier when he noticed your gawking, but this can’t be the same Buggy that tripped on his own feet when you offered to learn burlesque for his show. You decided to play it safe.

“Of course. I chose you as my Captain, right?” Agree but deflect - perfect.

Buggy wanted to be frustrated at your answer. Actually, some piece of him was - he was sure you knew that’s not what he was getting at - but he was also happy. You did choose him. You chose to run away with him, a pirate you barely knew, not to mention that that short time was always spent with one of you as the other’s hostage. He’d question your judgment if it weren’t benefitting him so much. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted (‘yet’ he hoped), you liked him enough to completely change the trajectory of your life path to run parallel with his. That counted for something. A lot of something. 

The affection that started to blend into Buggy’s eyes had your heart stuttering. You couldn’t look away even when he gently placed a hand atop your head then petted it slowly back and down so that he held the back of your head.

“Right,” he responded quietly. He gave two gentle scratches to the base of your skull before leaning away from you. The distance helped break you from the spell his gaze had you under. He huffed out a breath then asked, “So, what’s next?”

“I can do your back?” Yeah that should help; it would keep those pretty eyes from making you want to bare your soul. It seemed to be their mission tonight to do so by force or by favor and you were not ready for him to find the immense (and still somehow growing) affection for him there. You weren’t ready for the rejection you expected. You don’t think he would reject a more active night sharing a bed but you were certain he would reject the pursuit of love and that’s what would actually hurt. And besides, it would give him way too big of a head and the teasing would become unbearably annoying.

Oh, wow, when did he take his shirt off? Were you really zoned out thinking for more than a few seconds? And how come this man makes chest hair look so damn good? You wanted to feel that dark blue under your fingers and the pecs decorated with it as well. His shirt did him justice but he looks just as good, if not better, without it. Those pecs flexed a few times, letting you know he caught on to your staring again. 

“You’re really distracted today,” Buggy said through a smile, looking all too wolfish for your liking at the moment.

“What can I say, I love blue and you’re just lucky to be covered in it.”

“Well I am a natural bluenette,” Buggy said with that stupid, wonderful, self-satisfied glint in his eye he got every time he tried out one of his tenuous puns. 

“You are the worst,” you laughed. The corners of his cheeky smile pulled wider. “Here, let me set up for you.”

Buggy quirked a brow at you but said nothing as he watched you shuffle onto the bed. You grabbed the pillows from the head of the bed and laid them out in the middle. After making an upside down “T”, you took a moment to fluff them for maximum comfort. Luckily, the inn didn’t skimp out on pillow budget so you had a lot to work with. You finished by giving them an appeased nod then turned back to Buggy. With dramatic flair, you swept an arm through the air over your setup. 

“Your throne awaits,” you said. You patted the top pillow, “Chest here-” and the middle of the bottom one “-and hips here. Keep your head above the top one with your forehead on your arms so you don’t have to crank your neck the whole time.”

Buggy began moving to the center of the bed with a sarcastic “Yes, your highness” and turned to lay on his stomach. You took the opportunity to admire your beloved blue on his chest and happy trail. You scooted to sit on your knees right next to his side. Looking down at his back, you took in the muscles he had built there too. They made enticing lines across the expanse of soft skin and you were ever more eager to be able to have your hands on him. 

You leaned forward to begin a few awkward times before deciding you didn’t like the angle. It would be more comfortable with a straight shot, not to mention you’d be able to do a much better job for him. You wanted to impress him (hopefully enough to be able to do this again), so you pulled together the courage to throw a leg over him. You hovered for just a second, before lowering yourself to sit on his glutes. It ended up being a more cushioned seat than anticipated (good for him) so you felt comfortable relaxing more of your weight down on him. Buggy let out a nervous little giggle before he cleared his throat and shuffled beneath you.

“Is this okay?” you asked, frowning lightly.

“Yeah, fine,” Buggy responded, too quick and too high. You rolled your eyes at his convincing response and began to lift your weight back off of him. He threw his left hand back to sink his grip into your thigh and keep you from moving.

“I said it was fine,” Buggy repeated too firmly, causing you to sit back down incredulously.

It was most certainly not fine. Buggy didn’t think that something so simple would fluster him so much, but his touch-starved nerves were staging light shows under his skin and his mind was running wild. He had hoped that the start of the massage would have prepared him for further contact. Instead, his brain was drowning under a tide of happy chemicals at the feeling of your weight and warmth. Your soft thighs pressed gently into the skin of his sides and the heat exchanging between your bodies had him melting into the pillows. 

You snuggled your legs more comfortably into him, and the wonderful pressure of the act along with the weight of you on him had him feeling held for the first time in… how long? The night of his head cuddled into your chest was close (and quite precious to him), but it was different with his body involved - more overwhelming. His heart ached again as he was left to take in the images his brain conjured of the two of you wrapped in each other to start and end the days. The pain of it was more poignant with the realism your closeness allowed. Yep, he was not fine, but he was desperate to stay right where he was.

The nerves still persisted though. If the firm strokes of your fingers along his calves had him holding back pleased sighs, he was sure he’d have to bite his tongue to keep from moaning with your hands working his tense back loose. He was already kicking himself for the giggle and crackling voice. You must think he’s so pathetic; how could you admire him when he always crumbled around you?

“Seafaring has certainly done wonders for you,” you complimented while trailing fingertips across his shoulders. Buggy blinked and worried for a second that you could hear his downturning thoughts with how well-timed your compliments tended to be. Your fingers brushed down the length of his spine and the shiver it pulled out shook the worries from him. Tracing that path back up, you turned your hand over to tease him with the brush of your nails. Another tremble rewarded your efforts.

After spreading a generous amount of lotion on your hands, you rubbed the moisture into the lower half of his back to start. It was a bit cold for a moment before it warmed under your palms and warmed the air with more of that relaxing scent. The lavender and wood settled over Buggy’s senses and helped keep his breath deep and mind quiet. You took your time enjoying the feel of him as you molded his muscles under the base of your thumb, moving from spine to side then letting your fingers touch all the way back to the start. 

Buggy was split between turning liquid under your touch and tensing up to keep control of his composure, and the divide only worsened with each measured stroke across his skin. When he let himself lean towards relaxing, he felt a whine pressing out of his chest and tucked his head down to bite into the plush pillow to hold it back. He found that clenching his teeth into something helped ground all of his tension there and he began to let his muscles relax with your urging hands. Even still, he had to continue biting back pleased sounds for fear of your reaction. Unwilling to part with your touch, he bore the brunt of his insecurities. Long and slow breaths helped him keep his nerves and excitement back, and he found the payment of filing this into his memory well worth the risk of embarrassing himself.

Your own mind quieted as you subconsciously mimicked his deepening breaths and filled your mind with your senses instead of internal monologue. They led you to indulge as your eyes saw Buggy look like art under dim lamplight.  You felt his form shift and mix with your hands under you, you smelled your lotion mixing with the sweet haze around his hair and the barely there scent of his skin, and you heard the ambiance of slow breathing and skin brushing skin. You yearned to fill your last sense with Buggy too, pulling him in for a kiss to have him eased onto your tongue.

Meanwhile, Buggy had sunk enough into the moment to forget how to yearn. He was already getting more than he could’ve hoped for from you, and the satisfaction of getting your touch so directly, intentionally, and extendedly had him on cloud nine. His brain was turning gooey and it was distracting him from his aversion to making noise; his deep breaths shifted to take on the air of a sigh each time a new or particularly needy spot found itself under your loving hands. He’d wind his jaw back tight again each time that he heard the noise become too audible, but each time he had less and less resistance to give. The desperation to stay calm and collected was sinking beneath the desperation to fall under the spell of your care. With each moment under your comforting weight, radiant heat, enticing scent, and worshiping hands he knew he’d drown under that rising tide. The surrender was frightening, but the other side seemed so blissful.

When you circled your thumbs right above the dimples on his lower back and worked them deep into the muscles framing his spine, you pulled the first faint moan from him. It was cut short by a tense inhale but the shaky sound resonated long enough to spread goosebumps up the back of your neck. Waiting until he started to exhale, you kneaded your thumbs all the way up until you were palming his traps and another moan followed, low and long. Since he wasn’t able to hide the sound, you got to hear every needy tone wrapped up in the pressure of his voice. Pressing his forehead down further into his arms, Buggy stretched his shoulders wide and the base of his neck up to give you more to touch while also feeling more hidden. It had him looking like a sleepy cat leaning into petting.

“Feels good?” you asked, just barely above a whisper but tone still noticeably eager.

“So good,” Buggy mumbled, voice thick and rumbling from his chest. The stubborn tightness he’s been holding deep in his chest was finally leaving him. The freeing space quickly filled with a thrill he found unfamiliar; it wasn’t bubbling, flinging, or shocking through him but instead it sat sturdy within his ribs, spreading and dripping like molasses out through his body. To your surprise, Buggy gave you more of that enticing sleepy lilt. “Splitting up can make me sore and fuck with my nerves. Leaves my muscles feeling-” he paused to grunt with relief when you broke up a knot that had tucked itself next to his shoulder blade “-heavy. Puts pin pricks on my skin like it's numb too if I’m broken up a long time.” Your hands pushed out to hold the lats that lay thick over his ribs. After a moment of simply appreciating the waves of his breath under your palms, you continued your massage and earned another pleased groan from him, this one completely unrestrained. “It’s worst when my head’s off - makes my whole body ache.”

Buggy had been simply talking without thought, so when you stopped for a few long moments he had the time to let his mind catch up. Before he had enough time to regain any of his anxieties, you resumed your task.

“That sounds awful,” you mumbled sympathetically. 

He hummed in agreement, but was too soothed to let his mind actually linger on any of his hurts or complaints. Everything was simply gentle breathing and soft skin. 

That head fuzz kept him floating through the rest of your attention. In the future he’d be kicking himself for not intensely focusing on recording every second down in his memory. As he was now though, that languid semi-sleep suspended outside of time was his personal heaven. 

You retained more of your own focus, but being more alert than Buggy in that moment was an exceedingly low bar. It meant that you were just able to keep your task going and be conscious of your actions. Beyond that, your mind wandered far and wide through scenes both domestic and dramatic. The same Buggy who brushed fingertips across your cheek to wake you also professed his undying love at the threat of you heading back to your old crew. The Buggy who placed a peck with an obnoxious “mwah!” each time you passed each other while readying for the day also cried from fear and relief and clung to you after he swept you away from danger. Your Buggy shared the mundane quiet with you through squeezing hands, silly faces, and leaning weight. Your Buggy bared his teeth at those who wronged you and spilled you over his bed to salve the wounds with fervent devotion.

The Buggy under you let out a quiet snore and forced you to fully exist in reality.

You giggled fondly at the man below you, heart swelling at the thought of how much more comfortable and relaxed he became. 

“Mmn-why’d ya stop,” Buggy grumbled. His sleep-thick voice barely made it past the pillow.

“I figured you were gone to the world,” you responded, “and besides, I’ve been at this for… about an hour fifteen actually.”

“Another then.”

“Another what?”

“Hour fifteen.”

You snorted at his needy petulance. Give him just a bit of attention and he’s immediately spoiled rotten.

“Not even a thanks first for the time already given?” you teased.

“Thank you, my sweetest, most dearest crew member! Truly you are a gift to your captain and deserve accolades and promotion,” Buggy snarked in a dramatic cadence, sounding like a play lead professing his love.

The only promotion you saw happening was his promotion from spoiled rotten to Spoiled Rotten Brat. 

“What position will I be promoted to, my sweetest and most dearest Captain?” You mimicked him but packed much more sarcasm into the flattery. Getting up onto your knees, you eyed him up and down. You knew how you wanted to shut him up but felt like you shouldn’t.

“Why, just what the most essential and beloved member of my crew deserves!” Buggy was trying to sound dramatic, but couldn’t keep the sound of his wide smile out of his voice. He peeked over his shoulder to expose that face splitting grin with you. Like always, the blues and greens in his smile-crinkled eyes messed with your heart.

“You’ll be my very own personal servant,” Buggy finally answered, looking like the very embodiment of self-satisfaction.

You blamed him for your slip in self-control.

The sharp sound that cut through the room and his shittalking as your palm met his ass was music to your ears. The moment after contact, you bolted for the door, leaving him behind with your laughter. Unfortunately, you were no match for the speed of chop chop hands, which latched onto your wrists to halt your escape. Buggy was right behind them, reattaching and then wrapping arms around you to throw you over a shoulder in one frantic motion.

The cackling that burst out of him was wild and bright and you couldn’t resist joining in. You wished you could see his face as it twisted in joy, but you were stuck hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your mind lost that thought along with all others when you felt a harsh smack against your own ass. When he received a disbelieving chuckle instead of vicious cursing, Buggy repeated the sharp motion a few more times for good measure. You yelped and squirmed playfully, mildly impressed how easily he supported your weight and kept his hold firm.

You decided he was a hidden gentleman when his hand only stayed in place for a moment before moving down to the back of your thighs. You shivered at the feeling of his hand brushing down the sensitive skin there to rest its warmth just above the back of your knee. He started walking, his steps bouncing through you, and just when you wondered where he planned to put you, your world spun. Springs creaked as your back met the mattress and continued their protests with each residual bounce.

“You’re not allowed to take up the whole thing this time,” Buggy teased, narrowing his eyes down at you.

“Like you needed the space.” You still started shifting towards the walled side of the bed to make room for him.

“You gonna hold your Captain’s weakest moment over his head forever?” Buggy asked.

“Unlikely, but no promises,” you responded, voice warbled by your heavy shifts to turn over and face Buggy once more.

He beat your grace by a landslide when he delicately sat on the bed and slid under the covers. It reminded you of someone trying not to alert a predator with any sudden movements. Or maybe a teen sneaking back into the house just before dawn. Grace leaves him once his motion stops though; he lays awkwardly on his back and his whole body stiffens up to resemble a plank. He’s kept himself arm’s distance from you, not at the edge of the mattress but close. And he really had the gall to say you’d take up the whole bed when he was going to act like this.

“You just had a hand on my ass; are you really that scared to touch me again?” Your voice is much more incredulous than judgemental. You were simply astonished by his capricious nature yet again.

Instead of responding, Buggy sent a pouty glare your way. You met it with an easy smile, making it begin to lean more pout than glare. It looked positively absurd coming from the corner of his eye because he was still too locked up to move. Wanting to ease him and getting tired of waiting (and missing his touch), you began to reach for him. Just to spite you, Buggy finally broke his method acting as Statue to turn his back to you. The huff he let out had you giggling again. You took a moment to cherish how much he’s had you doing that, especially tonight.

“If you think I won’t spoon you, you’ve got another thing coming,” you threatened.

You caught the barest hint of his gaze when he turned his head to peek at you. It was only there for a moment before he faced back forward and snuggled himself deeper into the mattress. Looks like someone might actually be up for little spoon.

Moving slowly so that he has plenty of time to object, you shifted yourself forward on the bed until you were only a few inches away. The divot both of your bodies were making was adding gravity to the pull between you two but you still hesitated. The final step to contact was the most daunting after all, and also the part you wanted to savor the most. You took a deep breath, smelling your own favorite lotion off of the exposed skin in front of you, and moved forward.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

<-Prev Next (coming up!)->

“I said I don’t like her!” Buggy raged, his over defensiveness doing anything but convincing the crew. The Roger pirates burst in a cacophony of laughter which echos through the dark forest. The bondfire continues to rage and crackle, small ambers floating away from the camp towards the night sky. Some of the crowd slapping their knees, some wheezing and some cackling erratically. The resolute hysterics spur Buggy’s frustrations, the tips of his ears turning red along with the apples of his cheeks and the blaring red nose. “Yeah well— screw you guys! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Buggy protests, stomping towards the log to take his seat back in front of the bonfire.

“Are you kidding me? What about that time you put on a grand performance for Y/n? All it took was her praises to make you trip over overboard. She ended up diving in to fish out your sorry ass.” Shanks reminisces.

The crew continued to burst out laughing.

“That was all part of the act! Ever heard of engaging the crowd?!” Buggy protests. The absolute denial spilling from their favourite clown only made the crew determined to have Buggy acknowledge his feelings.

“Oh yeah? Then why did you turn red that one time Y/n fixed your collar?” Rayleigh asked to which Buggy turned stiff.

“That-t-t was just because … it tickled!” Buggy denies.

“And that time some local flirted with her so you stood up and punched him?” Crocus questions a bemused smile pressed upon his face.

“I was just defending a ladies honour! I’m a chivalrous gentleman!” Buggy replies making the crew groan.

“Punching a man for saying Y/n is beautiful is not a good reason to go knocking someone out.” Crocus murmurs, turning back to his malty drink, becoming disinterested in their endeavours.

At this point Buggy would die alone still denying his very evident feelings.

“And the massive ring you stole for her?” Oden asks, thinking he finally corned Buggy.

“I got it for free! Figured Y/n would wear it more than me!” Roger burst out into hearty laughter, his toothy smile beaming.

“And when you told her you loved her?” Roger asks making the crew gasp. They were not aware of this development.

Is it true that their little Buggy finally admitted it?

“AS A FRIEND!” Buggy defends making the crew split between a chorus of laughter and groans.

A branch snaps in the bushes, the figure of two young ladies submerging from the shrubbery.

“I could hear your laughter all the way from the look at point. What was so funny?” You question, sauntering past the drunk crew, taking a seat between Buggy and Shanks. Whilst Toki went and sat next to Oden.

“Buggy was just telling us some funny stories.” Shanks answers, handing you a skewer from the campfire.

“Oh yeah? Sounded more like you were giving Love-Bug a hard time.” You state Buggy’s new nickname making the crew belt in hysterical laughter.

Buggy stares off cluelessly making you return a smirking smile back to him.

• It was giving you one hell of a time, so many ripples of fabric and pearls that seemed to want to battle you. However one part on the front leg was extra difficult- it needed a particular angle in order to see how it felt-

• You knew the performer couldn't come down for a last minute fitting anyway since it took too much time and the costumes never lasted long anyway.

• You two were about the same size anyway..

• So you slipped it on quickly, figuring a few moments couldn't hurt-

• You adjust some of the fabric accordingly- glancing at yourself a few times since... the costume did look damn good on you

• Unaware of the door being opened and a figure making their way inside.

• "Holy fuck-"

• You turning around quickly to see your partner Buggy standing there, fresh from drinking it seemed as he stared at you in total shock. A wave of worry hitting your chest at the way he was staring at you which you'd never seen before-

• "Oh my Gods-"

• ...

• "Wow! You're so damn gorgeous!" He gushed, his eyes wide with amazement as he stares over your form with awe and desire.

• "Wow!"

• You can't help but giggle at this words and shyly cover your face as you feel his gaze practically worship you.

• "Oh my Gods~" He awed, you Not noticing his steps coming towards you as he gave a wide crooked grin.

• "If thats for you, You can't wear that as a costume- It looks too damn good and I wouldn't be able to control myself during a show-" He chuckles out, floating his gloved hands around your waist to give you a small twirl. "I'd just turn the whole show into getting to gaze at you"

• You blush and bat his hand away playfully making one of the many pearls jingle and clank.

• "Well it's for one of the performers- I put it on since we are the same size and-"

• His lips crashed against your own suddenly, drawing you in as his form seemed to be all over you.

• "B-Bugs" You manage to whisper out as you feel him closing the space between the two of you

• "You're so beautiful~" He purred out, a crooked grin on his lips as his lips traveled to your exposed neck.

• "Bugs I gotta finish this-" You whine weakly, already feeling your will power giving up on finishing this damn costume.

• "So do I~"

• He winks- And just like that you've practically been swept out to Sea as Buggy wisk you off to the couch in your little studio space.

• You end up apologizing to the performer and saying you had to make her a completely new costume-