lostfirefly

[lostfirefly]

Me: I'm in a sad and soft mood

Also me: mmm, should I write nsfw for reader?

[lostfirefly]

I just noticed that my poem from last night about Buggy's ass was posted crooked (I was posting it from my phone and didn't notice the error)

Anyway, everything has been updated and you can read it))

PS. I was too productive yesterday, hah)

[lostfirefly]

I was drinking my Buggy Muggy Coffee and this idea was born in my head :)

You had just set the last piece of coconut bread onto the driftwood table when you heard the groan.

Loud. Dramatic. Unmistakably Buggy.

"Uuuggghhh..."

From behind you, a mop of messy blue hair appeared in the doorway of the hut, one side of his face still pressed into a pillow crease.

"The sun is attacking me," Buggy whined, staggering out like a man on his last legs. He had one boot on. The other was missing. His shirt was unbuttoned, askew, and half caught on his shoulder.

You didn’t even look up as you poured coffee into a chipped mug. "You were snoring like a dying walrus ten minutes ago. Pretty sure the sun tried asking you nicely."

"You let me sleep on a ROCK, Y/N." Buggy shuffled toward the table like a zombie. "My back is ruined. My spine is S-shaped now. This is how I die."

"You had a hammock. You kicked it down in your sleep." You smiled.

"Oh. Well," he sniffed, collapsing onto the bench. "It offended me."

"Here, your majesty." You just rolled your eyes and handed him the mug. "Maybe caffeine will straighten your royal spine."

"Bless you., cupcake" Buggy took it with both hands. "You’re the only thing keeping me from becoming feral. You know that, right?"

"You already are feral, Buggy." You sat across from him, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth.

"Only on the inside," he muttered, biting into the bread.

You watched him hair a tangled mess, eyeliner smudged, still half-asleep and grumbling under his breath about sand getting in his pants.

Buggy looked at you suddenly, mouth full, a crumb stuck to his nose.

"What?" he said, blinking.

"Nothing." You smiled, quietly. "You’re just... so whiny before breakfast. And I love it. And you."

"Are you mocking me or flirting with me, Y/N?" Buggy narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

You leaned forward and stole a piece of his bread. "Little of both."

"This is why I love you." Buggy pointed at you with wide eyes. "Evil. Gorgeous. Steals my food."

"You said you hated coconut yesterday." You laughed.

"I hated it yesterday. Today, I live for it. That’s character development."

The morning breeze tousled his hair, and for a brief moment, Buggy shut up. Just sat there, chewing, sipping his coffee, keeping his eyes on you.

"Hey," he said softer.

"What?" You asked, stroking his hair.

"Thanks for.. for breakfast."

"Anytime, my silly clown." You nudged his foot under the table.

And just like that, the whining stopped for a while.

Until Buggy noticed the seagulls who stole coconut bread and declared war on her.

[lostfirefly]

Sorry not sorry but this is Cathie's song... dedicated to Buggy's butt :) I'm not ashamed at all :)

Oh, I’ve seen treasures, I’ve seen gold, But there’s one thing I’d like to hold, It jiggles when he walks, I swear, My man’s got booty beyond compare!

Clown cakes, clown cakes, Sailor boy’s got the best-shaked bakes! Forget the jewels, forget the fame, His backside’s got its own fanbase name! Clown cakes, clown cakes, Don’t try to look, girl, it’s mine, for Pete’s sake! I fell in love, not with his sword… But with the view I can't ignore!

He struts the circus like a king, That red-nosed menace, what a thing! But I’m not blinded by the crown, I just want that view when he sits down 😏

He says “Don’t stare!” — boy, please, You turn, and my heart’s weak in the knees! Call me a menace, say I’m crude, But your butt is my favorite attitude.

Clown cakes, clown cakes, Even Richie blinks when it shakes! I’d cross the seas, I’d fight a shark, Just to squeeze it in the dark! Clown cakes, clown cakes, This pirate’s got that wobbly grace! When you say “I’m strong,” I say “Sure, babe… But it’s the back view I wanna save.”

So tie your scarf and flex real slow… I’ll follow wherever that booty go

[lostfirefly]

I made him extra flashy this time <3

[lostfirefly]

My mood swings like a pendulum lately. Some days I feel like I’m drowning in doubt, in fear, in all the things I couldn’t do.

But somehow, even after almost two years since OPLA came out — Buggy still inspires me to write.

In the stories I create (many of them just secret letters to myself), I find a kind of salvation.

Recently, I started improving my English with a native speaker. And honestly? These sessions give me a tiny spark of joy. A bit of air. A little reminder that maybe I’m not hopeless. Maybe I’m still trying.

I know I’ve been quiet here. My shitty mood has been louder than my creativity lately. But I love being part of this community. I love reading your stories, guys. I love being able to create something new again, even if it’s slow, even if it hurts a little.

So yeah…

Still here.

Still dreaming.

Still writing.

with love,

lostfirefly

[lostfirefly]

Maybe You're My Enemy (Ch. 4)

I'm going to finish this story anyway :) Sorry, sometimes the mental state is stronger than me. It's been a lot of translation orders and wasn't in the mood to write anything at all. This chapter is short, the next one will be the final one) English isn't my native language. Errors may occur. Fell free to share your thoughts :)

Masterlist is here

Description:

Warnings: Fun, adventure, enemies to lovers vibes in the next chapters.

WC: 1851

Taglist: @mychemicalfalloutpilotsstuff

The title is taken from "Enemy" by Charli XCX.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The sky outside was still ink-dark when your eyes fluttered open. A gull cried somewhere in the distance, but the ship was quiet. No footsteps, no drunken laughter. No Buggy.

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You didn’t know what had woken you — a dream, maybe. Or the pull of something… unfinished. 

“Need some fresh air.” 

You stood up, left the cabin and went out on deck. 

The ship rocked gently in the cradle of night. Most of the crew was deep in slumber — limbs sprawled, mouths open, snoring like thunder. Only the creaking of old ropes and the whisper of waves filled the quiet void.

You padded softly across the deck, arms wrapped around yourself for warmth. Your bare feet made no sound against the worn planks. 

Buggy’s ship wasn’t what you expected. It was chaotic, yes — too many stripes, too much color — but it had charm. Flashy carvings decorated the railings, little gold-plated clown faces hidden in the woodwork. A ridiculous chandelier swayed above the mess hall. 

You smiled.

It was loud, even when silent.

You wandered aimlessly at first, touching the polished railings, peeking into quiet corners. The ship felt alive — not just in motion, but in spirit. Like it had soaked up Buggy’s madness and made it its own.

Without realizing it, you found yourself near the captain’s quarters. Your steps slowed. A soft glow bled from the gap beneath the door. Your heart beat faster.

“Definitely captain’s cabin. Shit! Why.. Why am I here?” You didn’t have an answer. “I should thank him. But I already thanked him. But maybe I should.. Yeah, I should. Maybe he's not asleep yet?’

You lifted your hand.

Knocked.

Just once. Softly.

No answer.

“Just a peek,” you told yourself. “Maybe he’s not here. Maybe… What if he's there? What do I tell him? Oh! I'll find out what our plan is. Great idea, Cherry. He’s a pirate. I’m a pirate, after all. Information is survival. Right? Right!”

You turned the knob. The door creaked open.

The room smelled like ink, wax, and spice — cinnamon and old rum. Maps covered the walls, some framed, others pinned with knives. Charts, compasses, trinkets, old masks. There was even a painting of himself. Of course.

Your eyes swept the room, almost reverently. Buggy’s coat was draped over the back of a chair. A half-finished mug of something sat on the table, still warm.

You exhaled. He wasn’t here.

You came closer to his desk. Papers were everywhere: stained maps, scrawled letters, half-burnt to-do lists that probably said something like “STEAL MORE GOLD” or “KICK MARINE BUTT.” She tried not to laugh.

You scanned the desk. 

“The map!” You said quietly. 

There was a slightly open package lying on the table. Its edges were torn and browned like old parchment, the corners curled. Grease stains, faded ink splatters, and the unmistakable marks of saltwater had left it permanently warped. A jagged tear ran across the lower right corner, stitched together with a single piece of waxy red thread.

She leaned closer.

The ink was dark and dense in some places, almost frantic — thick lines that looped and coiled around small islands with names scrawled in sharp, impatient script. Most were crossed out. Others had angry notes beside them in Buggy’s handwriting:

“FAKE!”, “BOOBY-TRAPPED!”, “MARINES CAME FIRST”, “SHE LIED!”

“Who else lied to whom fucking clown

That should have made it easier.” You whispered.

“I'LL BE THE KING OF THE PIRATES!!! Buggy's sleepy muttering came from behind the door.

“Fuck!" You hid under the table. After a bit of rest, you stuck your head out. "Don’t be scared, Cherry. It was a piece of cake."

You knew it was your best hope.

“Maybe not to do this?” You hesitated, getting up from the floor.

Your fingers hovered above the map.

It felt wrong. Like stealing from someone who… who had trusted you. Who had saved you, shared rum and late-night stories and moments where his voice was soft instead of booming.

“I’ll do something nice. In that case he won’t be angry.” You looked around at the chaos. 

You folded Buggy’s notes neatly. Put away his compasses. Even righted the little skull figurine that had fallen over on the shelf. It was a stupid gesture, but it made her feel less like a thief.

On a scrap of parchment, you wrote a shaky message:

“Sorry. I need this. — C.”

You slipped the map under your t-shirt and vanished into the pre-dawn mist.

Buggy woke with a headache and a huff. He shuffled out of the bedroom and into his office.

“Shit, I need a couple of huge espresso shots rig—” He stopped and looked around his office. 

It hit him immediately.

“Clean. Too clean. Why is my office so clean?” He froze, eyes narrowing. Where were the mess, the scrolls, the junk he hadn’t touched in days?

And then he saw it — the empty spot on the table. The missing map. And beside it, the stupid note.

“Sorry. I need this. — C.”

His jaw clenched. He read it twice. Three times.

“OH, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME—!! FUCKING STRAWBERRY!!” His voice boomed through the ship like a cannon shot. He kicked over a chair, threw a quill at the wall, then collapsed into his own desk, gripping the note so hard it crumpled.

“GET UP, YOU LAZY BARNACLES! I WANT HER FOUND!!”

Buggy’s crew scrambled in all directions, still half-asleep, tripping over barrels and belts.

“Search the docks, the taverns, the damn sky if you have to!” Buggy yelled. “If she’s breathing, I want to know where!”

“Thank you for the boat, clown. Just a quick stop,” you told yourself, throwing the oars into a small boat, mooring it at some island. "I'll buy some food and I need to somehow contact the crew. I need to get out of this godforsaken place.”

You didn’t notice the man watching you. Didn’t see him slip into the shadows. Didn’t hear the message, he whispered into the snail phone.

By the time Buggy made it to the island, the marines were already there. His ship hit the harbor like a cannonball. He leapt off the gangplank with fire in his blood and knives on his belt. His crew was close behind — but they stopped when they saw the uniforms. Rows of marines. Guns drawn. Eyes cold.

And standing at the front a vice admiral with a smile like shark teeth.

“Well, well. Buggy the Clown.”

“Vice Admiral Twitface.” Buggy sneered. “You’re on this island right now? Still babysitting docks? Still haven't gotten a promotion?”

“You’re under arrest.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m so tired of your jokes, clown. Get him!”

The marines didn’t answer. They just dragged Buggy through the street like a rabid dog.

“Let me GO!” Buggy made sure to scream the whole way. “Do you have any idea who I AM?! I AM THE—ow, hey, watch the nose—THE GREATEST PIRATE SHOWMAN TO EVER—HEY—TOUCH ME AGAIN AND I’LL—!”

They didn’t care. 

The vice admiral stood with a glass of tea in his hand, watching as Buggy was shoved into the office like a sack of trouble.

Buggy’s wrists were shackled in sea stone cuffs, which he deeply resented.

“Ah. The famous clown,” the admiral drawled.

Buggy hissed. “You got some nerve dragging me in like that, Admiral Boringface.”

“It’s Cleanbrace!!” The admiral yelled. 

“My bad.” Buggy shrugged.’

“You’re a hard man to find.”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“No, you were running.”

“Oh, come on. You think I ran here?” Buggy rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’m here for important pirate business. Your idiot dogs grabbed the wrong guy.”

“You helped a prisoner escape from a government-controlled facility two weeks ago.”

“You mean Cherry?” Buggy froze for half a second. Just a flicker.

“So you admit it.”

“Pfft. Of course I do. Would’ve looked better on camera, though.”

The admiral narrowed his eyes. “She’s young. Dangerous. Too clever for her own good. We should’ve clipped her wings when we had the chance.”

“Yeah. She’s a problem, all right.” Buggy leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger against the table. “Here’s the thing, Admiral…” His voice dropped. “You don’t want another problem. You already have me. And I’m your favorite pain in the ass.”

Buggy leaned forward, elbows on the table now. “Cherry’s small-time. For now. Sure, she’s clever. Slippery. But if you don’t chase her.. if you don’t put pressure on her now… she’ll grow teeth. You’ll force her into something worse.”

“Into what?” the admiral asked flatly.

“Into a legend,” Buggy said with a grin. “And trust me, you don’t want another me on the seas.”

“And your point?” The admiral studied him. 

“I say…” Buggy spread his hands theatrically. “Let’s find her.”

“And why would I do that?” The admiral’s eyes narrowed. “You think I need your help?”

“How much is her head worth now?” Buggy shrugged. “Five million? Ten? You catch her, you’ll get the press, the headlines, the promotion. ‘Admiral captures prison escapee, rising pirate threat.’ Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“I can catch you, too.” The admiral scoffed. “You’re sitting in front of me right now.”

“Fair enough.” Buggy snapped his fingers. “Go ahead. Arrest me. Put me in chains. Haul me up to the gallows. Again. I’m useful. You leash me, you get bait. Chaos. Distraction. While I’m blowing things up and being loud, your boys can sweep in and do the quiet work. See how that ends. Admiral Crooked Face caught the clown again. Blah-blah.”

“It’s Cleanbrace!!!!” The admiral leaned back, eyes narrowing further. “And what do you want in return?”

Buggy’s grin didn’t falter, but the glint in his eyes turned sharp. “Oh, now that’s the question, isn’t it?” He stood, hands behind his back. “First,” he said, pacing, “I want free passage. No blockades, no sudden marine ships swarming me every time I sneeze. I want to sail like a normal pirate with a little extra flair.”

The admiral didn’t speak.

“Second,” Buggy continued, “I want my crew left alone. You harass them, deal’s off.”

The admiral said nothing.

“Come on, dude! Stop being so boring. Or let me be your chaos.” Buggy leaned back. “Your bait. Your cannonball with a face. Give me a long leash, Admiral. And I’ll bring her right to your feet.”

A long pause.

“Tick-tock, Admiral,” Buggy said, spreading his arms. “You’ve got a choice: chase her with me — or spend the next ten years trying to untangle the mess she’s about to make.”

“Fine.” The admiral stood.

“Knew you’d see the brilliance.” Buggy smiled wider. 

“But if you cross me—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buggy said, turning for the door. “Hang me, quarter me, parade me through the capital. You marines are so dramatic. Better make room in your report. ‘Buggy the Clown – government collaborator.’ Has a certain scandal to it, don’t you think?”

Buggy walked out of the office before the admiral could reply — his boots loud, heart louder, mind racing.

“God help you, fucking strawberry… I’m going to yell at you for making me negotiate.”

[lostfirefly]

My cat woke me up.. I was lying in bed and for some reason a cozy scene appeared in my head, which I immediately wanted to write :)

The sun had already dipped below the edge of the sea, leaving streaks of rose-gold clouds hanging lazily across the sky. The only sound was the soft rustle of the breeze and the creaking sway of the hammock as it rocked gently between two posts on the deck of his ship.

You were curled up with Buggy, head on his shoulder, the fabric of the hammock cocooning you both like a cradle. Buggy’s body was warm under yours, his breath slow, steady unusually quiet for someone with a mouth as fast as his.

One of his hands rested on your waist. The other was holding your hand. Or rather, examining it like some strange, fascinating treasure map.

He traced your knuckles with his thumb, as if memorizing their shape. He played with your fingers one by one, twisting the ring on your middle finger, then bending each digit like it was part of a puppet show.

"Y’know," Buggy murmured, eyes half-lidded and voice thick with lazy affection, "You’ve got ridiculously small fingers, Y/N. Like... freakishly cute. They make my hands look like they belong to a damn titan."

“They’re normal-sized, clown.” You gave him a sleepy smile.

"For who? Tiny fairies?" Buggy scoffed, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward. He brought your hand to his face and kissed each fingertip with exaggerated care. "You’re lucky I like tiny things. Especially ones who sneak into my hammock."

“Pretty sure you dragged me in here.” You raised an eyebrow. "After the dinner, by the way."

"Semantics," Buggy shrugged. His hand kept exploring yours. He traced the veins along your wrist, the soft pad of his thumb lingering there longer than needed. "You’re warm."

"So are you."

He smirked, but didn’t respond. Just hummed a little under his breath, something low and tuneless, his thumb now gently rubbing circles over your palm.

You watched the way he stared at your hand not distracted, not teasing just present. Like he was grounding himself there. Like touching you was his way of reminding himself that you were real.

The hammock rocked again.

And you thought, that even if the world outside exploded, even if the sea split and the Marines came knocking right now, in this quiet moment, everything was okay.

Because Buggy was here. And he was holding your hand.

[lostfirefly]

Today I had a dream about being in my old school, and then I remembered how I burned my yearbook. And then I had an idea about a new sketch. And I also realized that I missed the posts about Buggy and Catherine) Sorry, OC again!

"Cotton candy, I'm home!" 

"My little be-e-ear!!!" Catherine ran out of the kitchen squealing. She jumped on Buggy, hugging him with her arms and legs. "Hi, hi, hi!" Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Someday you're going to strangle me or knock me down, woman." He wrapped one arm around her waist. "Hi."

"You're just in time, the courier delivered the food. I ordered Indian and your favorite burger with five types of meat, with an extra portion of pickles. And I also went for a walk and bought you two packs of your favorite beer." Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Speaking of couriers." Buggy pulled a purple box from behind his back. "From Jules to you. The delivery guy must have left it by the door." 

"Oh! I must have been in the shower when he came and didn't hear the doorb—." Catherine noticed Buggy start to giggle. "Wipe that stupid smile off your face. You're 37, Buggy!" 

"So what? I like seeing you naked." 

"I hate you, pervert." Catherine jumped off Buggy and grabbed the box. "But thanks!" Smack. "Now wash your hands and I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

After dinner and endless conversations, Catherine kicked Buggy into the shower with difficulty. She settled into her favorite chair by the window, placed a glass of wine on the windowsill and opened the box from Jules.

"What do we have here? Oh, my old photos, dad's notebook, and notepad with our notes. See, a plush Buggy." Catherine twirled a couple of the photos in front of the stuffed animal. "I think my sister is evicting me from my parents' house." She giggled. "No way!!" Catherine pulled a large album out of the box.

She sat cross-legged in the chair, flipping through her old high school yearbook, laughing softly at every embarrassing memory.

Buggy appeared in the doorway, chewing a sandwich.

"Oh my god, we just ate." Catherine giggled.

"Got hungry while I was in the shower. What’s that, cotton candy?” Buggy asked, walking closer.

“Jules found my old school album and sent it over,” Catherine smiled. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, this I need to see.” Buggy flopped down next to her instantly, sliding closer.

“Please, don't tease me.”

“Na-ah! That’s literally my job.”

He leaned his head over her shoulder, eyes darting all over the pages. Catherine turned the pages, showing the class photos first: awkward haircuts, braces, group pictures.

“Look at that kid with the bowl cut!" Buggy cackled. "Did people actually survive the early 2000s?”

“Be nice!” Catherine swatted him playfully. "It's Frogger, by the way."

"Frogger? That's his real name? Shit, does that mean he was your ex-boyfriend?"

"No!" Catherine laughed. "We were good friends. He was great at chemistry, he was into physics, and I wasn't very good at that. He helped me a lot in my lessons. As far as I know, he's into science now. Works as a physicist and gives lectures. Oh, look. This is our school band." Catherine flipped to a full-page candid of her and a few friends.

“Where are you?” Buggy asked, eyes searching, scanning the pictures. 

Younger Catherine smiling, wearing a hoodie, sitting on the school lawn. Buggy’s heart did that stupid squeeze thing again.

“There you are,” he whispered, pointing at the girl in the center of the picture. “Look at you. Same damn smile.”

“I was such a dork.” Catherine rolled her eyes, blushing a little. 

“You were adorable.”

They flipped through a few more pages until they reached the prom section. Buggy’s eyes locked immediately on one photo.

Catherine, standing in a beautiful navy dress, hair elegantly curled, bouquet in hand and next to her was some random teenage boy in a tuxedo, with his arm around her waist.

“Oh.” Buggy’s eye twitched.

“Oh what?” Catherine smiled.

“Who’s this bastard?” Buggy pointed at the picture.

“This's Baxley."

"Baxley? Oh please tell me you're joking."

"Noo! He was my prom date.”

“I see that. Why... that.. Baxley is he touching you?”

“Because it was prom, Buggy.”

“Do I need to find this man?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is he still breathing?”

“Relax, my blue-haired love." Catherine burst into laughter. "We were just friends.”

Buggy shifted a little bit closer, still glaring at the boy in the photo. “You looked stunning though. Like… damn. Look at you."

“You’re lucky you met me later.” Catherine smiled, gently poking his chest. 

Buggy kept flipping through the pages, half-jealous, half-obsessed, until something else caught his eye.

“Wait—” Buggy blinked. “What's this?" He pointed to a photograph of girls with ribbons, one of them with a crown.

"Oh, we were choosing the prom queen."

"How is that?"

"Every year at graduation people at school choose the most beautiful girl. That year it was Plum Tansy. She was the most popular girl in school, captain of the cheerleading team. You know. We just took a photo for memory."

"Wait! You weren’t the prom queen?!”

“Nope.” Catherine laughed again. 

“HOW?!” Buggy waved his arms. "Look at yourself. You're prettier than that... Blum."

"She's Plum, Buggy." 

“Fuck it! What, did they not have working eyes at your school?!"

"Relax!" Catherine laughed, scratching Buggy's head.

"They robbed you, cotton candy! Absolutely robbed you!”

“Forget it. At such events, they usually choose the most popular girl in school. I wasn’t in the outcast group, and I wasn’t in the popular group either. I was just… somewhere in between.”

“You should’ve run the place, cotton candy.” Buggy shook his head in disbelief, completely scandalized. 

“I was well-known, sure. But never the queen. I never bothered about it. We had a good school and classmates..” Catherine grinned. "You know, I saw Plum once when she came to our library with her child and husband. They were looking for a book about a boy who lived in an onion. She was happy to see me, everyone was asking how I was doing and if I had someone. This was a few months before the trip to Cairo. It's weird, right? One day you're looking for a book for your ex-classmate, and the next you're living in Cairo with a guy who can take himself apart like a fucking construction set."

"I think you deserved the crown. You, Cathie-pie! Not some chick who likes to read about weird dudes. Who even lives in an onion?" 

"Eat your sandwich, my flashy fool." Catherine giggled, flipping the page.

Buggy stared at her for a long moment.

"What?" Catherine asked, smiling.

"Nothing. I think I will write a letter to your school and express my dissatisfaction. They made a huge mistake." 

[lostfirefly]

Timehop said that today is the father's day. So, welcome to AU in my current AU where Buggy and Cathie have two daughters and Catherine knows her husband is a pirate :) Nothing special, just a stupid sketch :)

"DADDY’S DAY"

Buggy lay on his back, one arm lazily draped over Catherine, the other tangled in the mess of blankets.

He blinked slowly, trying to wake up, but his brain was still half-floating in that space between sleep and reality.

And then he heard little whispers, tiny giggles, the unmistakable pitter-patter of small bare feet across the floor.

Aurora and Evelyn were trying very hard to be stealthy, tiptoeing toward the door.

"Shhh!" Aurora whispered. "He’s still sleeping!"

"But the bag’s making noise!" Evelyn hissed, the crinkling paper giving them away completely.

Buggy peeked through one eye, watching them with the tiniest smile curling on his lips.

“They’re trying so hard,” Catherine whispered, already half-awake beside him, caught the little smirk and giggled softly.

“I can hear them louder than the damn circus drums.” Buggy exhaled.

The girls finally reached the bedroom door with their small, lumpy bag of surprises and quickly slipped out.

"Mission successful, Ev!" Aurora whispered.

Buggy stared at the ceiling for a moment longer, and his smile softened.

"Are you okay, my little bear?" Catherine ran her fingers over his chest.

“Kind of. Still can't stop thinking those little gremlins are my daughters. They’re… mine,” Buggy whispered, almost like he was still trying to convince himself. “I’m their father.”

“You say it like it still surprises you,” Catherine teased.

“It does,” he murmured. “I wasn’t supposed to have this.”

"Don't say that." Catherine kissed him on his nose. “You were meant to have this.”

“Two tiny little humans who carry pieces of us. Who call me daddy. Who draw me as a fucking superhero with a huge red nose.”

“And you are their superhero,” Catherine whispered, brushing her fingers through his blue hair.

“I still feel like some punk kid who’s waiting to screw it all up,” Buggy admitted.

Catherine kissed his temple softly. “And yet, every morning you wake up, love them, protect them, make them laugh. That’s what being a father is.”

Buggy didn't answer. Without hesitation, he kissed her. Long, warm, and full of every ounce of the love he never quite knew how to put into words.

"You're so cute in the morning," Catherine said quietly, breaking the kiss. "Hi."

"Hi."

The bedroom door flew open again with a bang.

“HAPPY DADDY’S DAY!!!” both girls shouted in unison, carrying the giant lumpy bag between them.

"What's this?" Buggy sat up, completely melting at the sight of his little crew grinning like the sun.

“We made you presents!” Aurora beamed.

“Mom took us to the market, but we picked everything by ourselves!”

"Yes! By ourselves!" Evelyn added proudly, adjusting her glasses.

Buggy held his arms wide. “Come here, my little marshmallows!!"

The girls jumped onto the bed, crawling into his lap as Catherine laughed and scooted over to give them room.

"Here is your present, daddy!!"

"Let's look what I've got here." Buggy detached his hand, brought the bag and opened it.

It contained:

“#1 DADDY” handmade paper crown

A crooked picture frame with Buggy and Richie drawn entirely in crayons (Buggy’s nose was, of course, extra big)

And a tiny wooden figure that, according to Aurora, was “Daddy is fighting sea monsters!”


“I don’t deserve you, girls.” Buggy examined every gift, saying softly.

“Yes you do!” Evelyn said immediately, putting the crown on his head.

“You’re the best daddy ever!” Aurora added, smacking his red nose like she always did.

Catherine watched them as Buggy pulled them both into a tight hug, planting loud, exaggerated kisses on their heads.

“I’ve got the best crew on this planet,” he whispered. "You. Aurora Nefertari the Clown Mitchell. My fire, my fearless joy." Buggy hugged her tightly. "And you Evelyn Setara the Clown Mitchell. My little star, keeper of wisdom."

The girls giggled at their grand, exotic titles.

“And we’ve got the best captain,” Catherine said softly. "We love you so, so much!" She kissed Buggy on the cheek.

"I wanna kiss daddy too!" Aurora declared and kissed him too.

"Hey! What about me?! I want to do this too!" Evelyn kissed him on other cheek.

"I love you too, my marshmallows!!" Buggy started tickling both girls.

"Nooo, daddy!! Stop!" The girls giggled.

"So, girls.... I suggest we make dad a festive breakfast now!" Catherine hugged Aurora. "What do you think?"

"Oh! Oh! I'll help you to make coffee!!" Aurora squealed.

"I'll help you with... With.. I don't know...." Evelyn pouted. "But I really want to help you, mommy!!"

"We will find you a job." Catherine laughed, ruffing Evelyn's hair. "So... What does our favorite clown want?"

"Just like 11 years ago. Pancakes, cotton candy. And after the breakfast we can sail on my ship." He grinned looking at Catherine's wet eyes.

"Oh, no! Mommy is gonna cry." Aurora giggled.

"I'm not! And anyway, shush! Let's run to the kitchen quickly! We need to knead the dough! Aurora, you get the eggs, Evelyn, you get the flour and bowls. Go, go, go!" Catherine clapped her hands as the girls ran to the kitchen. "They drive me fucking crazy sometimes, of course, but they are wonderful."

"Ugh-ugh." Buggy admitted quietly.

"You okay, my half-gray-love?" Catherine asked, turning her head to him.

"Yeah. Just.. You know, Cathie-pie. Never mind."

"Alright." Catherine kissed his nose several times. "Get your old ass up and come into our kitchen. Okay?"

"Be there in 10 minutes." Buggy took her hand and kissed it.

"Captain's promise?"

"Captain's promise."

[lostfirefly]

Catherine's song.

I was inspired by today and I wanna say that @buggy-samaaa is one of the most cutes persons alive! THANK YOU AGAIN for helping to turn something stupid into something important :)

You grumble when you wake up, Mumble like a bear, Hair like a storm cloud, Underwear—everywhere. You roll your eyes at sunshine, Say, “D’you have to hum?” But I see that tiny smile When the coffee hits your tongue. And you say, “Don’t make a fuss,” But baby, you’re ridiculous. You eat like a pirate king, And kiss like it's a holy thing. You’re my favorite part of the morning light, Even when you snore through half the night. I love those hands, those stupid grins, The painted nose, the circus sins. You’re rough, you’re loud, you never stop, But my heart goes pop-pop-pop! I’ll miss you from the moment you depart, 'Cause darling, you’re my favorite part. You think you’re tough, you roll your sleeves, Talk big game with toast in your teeth. But you steal my heart with every glance, Even when you do that weird sock dance. I pack your lunch and hide a note, A doodle of us in a pirate boat. You won’t say “love you” when the crew’s around, But your ears go red — I’ve got you found. And you say, “Don’t make it weird,” But babe, you’re my favorite beard. You pout, you sulk, then pull me close, I wouldn’t trade you for gold or ghosts. You’re my favorite part of every day, From the grump you are to the games you play. I love that laugh, that messy head, The clown who blushes deep beet red. You’re wild, you’re loud, you steal the show, But you’re the softest soul I know. So take your sandwich and kiss me smart, 'Cause darling, you’re my favorite part. And when the night comes sneakin’ in, You’ll sigh and pull me close again. And I’ll say, “Welcome home, my star, my art.” You’ll kiss my head… And I’ll feel your heart. You’re my favorite part of every breath, My chaos boy, my lovely mess. I love the way you look at me, Like I’m your map, your sky, your sea. So go be wild — go steal the chart… But come back home to your favorite part.

[lostfirefly]

I don't want to complain, but seriously? All we got was 10 seconds of Chopper. And 2026?

Damn you.

I'm pissed.

(don't pay attention, i hoped to see at least a teaser and Buggy 🤣, but i got up at 3am to see nothing)

[lostfirefly]

Finally, I know how to end "Maybe you're my enemy" :))

I don't know if you're still interested in this story.

My mood suddenly lifted and I felt inspired.

Now can't stop writing the final chapter)

[lostfirefly]

(I saw it in my dream and immediately wrote this letter down. Probably my inner Buggy needs support. I still believe he has a kind heart, and he is also incredibly strong, although he himself does not notice it)

Buggy unwrapped the bag of warm sandwiches that Catherine had made him that morning. She looked at him differently after his story about Cross Guild yesterday, and he couldn't help but notice.

"What is this?" He felt the paper in the bag and took it out.

A letter from Catherine. She always left him cheerful notes. Buggy settled himself more comfortably in his chair, took a bite of the sandwich, and opened the folded piece of paper.

My Buggy, I see you. Not just the loud one. Not just the “big boss” who throws knives and talks too much and makes people laugh when he’s secretly falling apart. I see you. The you that shakes when no one’s looking. The you that wonders if they’ll ever stop hurting you. The you that feels like maybe.. just maybe... you don’t deserve better. You do. You were never weak for falling. You were strong for surviving. For still breathing with cracked ribs and a bleeding heart. For holding on, even when everything in you said to let go. They kicked you, mocked you, stripped you down, but you’re still here. That’s not failure, Buggy. That’s power. And when the world spits in your face, I’ll be there. With a warm towel, a bad joke, and arms that will never, ever let you fall alone again. Because I believe in you. Even when you don’t. Because I love you. Even when you can’t. And because no matter how many times the world tries to bury you, I’ll be right beside you, digging you out. You’re not a joke to me. You’re my whole world. Now come home. I’m not done hugging you and kissing your red nose yet. With love, Cathie-pie

[lostfirefly]

I haven't posted anything here about Buggy and Catherine for a long time) A short sketch from my notes :)

"Fuck yeah! Score!!!"

The apartment was loud.

Buggy sat on the couch, yelling at the TV, hands flailing as his team scored again.

"Nooo, fucking idiots!!" Cabaji was on one side, yelling at the tv and his team.

Mohji, on the other hand, was just there for the snacks and emotional chaos. He gasped every five minutes and kept making side comments like “They should put your nose on their team crest, Captain. For morale.”

"Shut up, Mohji." Buggy barked, sipping his beer. "Come on! Daddy needs one more goal!!"

"I’m just saying," Mohji said, sipping cosmopolitan, "Your energy would scare the other team. Look at those eyes. Intimidating. Beautiful."

"Honestly, dude, I will duct-tape your mouth." Buggy rolled his eyes.

The table in the living room was a mess: beer cans, pizza boxes, half-eaten chips, and the remains of at least two microwaved burritos.

"Oh, oh!! Come on, come on!!" Buggy stared at the TV screen, tapping his fingers on the bottle as his teammate ran towards the opposing goal. "SCORE!!!! God bless you Sanji." Buggy patted Cabaji on the back. "You owe me 200 dollars."

"What the hell?!" Cabaji yelled at his team. "Fucking turtles! Can't you run faster?! Why the hell did we buy a new coach, Whitebeard, if he can't make a team out of this pile of shit." He slumped over on the couch. "Damn!!!"

The front door clicked open. Catherine walked in, her cheeks were pink from the evening air, a tote bag swinging from one shoulder. She heard screams coming from the living room and smiled.

"Hi, guys!" Catherine said, entering the room.

All three men turned their heads at once.

"Hi!" Cabaji said sadly.

"Hi, Cath!" Mohji happily waved his hand.

"Oi!" Buggy’s expression immediately softened a fraction, but he quickly turned back to the screen like he didn’t care. "How's your favorite stupid walk?"

"Wonderful." Catherine stretched. "I love Cairo in the evening. I walked along the embankment, sat in a bar."

"What kind of bar? There were some cute gi��. Wait..." Cabaji sat up from the back of the couch. "Come on, score a goal!! SCORE A GOAL!! You fucking idiot!! NOOOOO!!!"

"YES!!!" Buggy clapped his hands and took a triumphant sip of his beer. "Now you owe me another 10 bucks."

"Your team is winning, my blue-haired love?" Catherine giggled, slowly walking up to the couch.

"Pfft! Of course! Hey.. What's this?" Buggy pointed at the box in Catherine's hands.

"Oh, right. I figured your boys' party was in full swing, so I brought you some more beer and snacks." Catherine smiled, handing them a six-pack and a new bag of chips.

"You brought snacks, angel?” Mohji beamed.

"Yes, and I also brought you everything you need for the margarita. And a cinnamon bun." Catherine took out some small bottles from her bag and handed them to Mohji.

"You're amazing!!" Mohji exclaimed, looking at Catherine with admiration.

Buggy kept his eyes on the game but muttered: “She’s mine, you know.”

"No one’s arguing with you, Captain," Cabaji replied flatly.

“We’re just appreciating the view. Respectfully.” Mohji fluttered his eyelashes.

"Thank you, my circus gang." Catherine stepped behind the couch and smacked both Cabaji and Mohji on the backs of their heads. "Love you too."

"Keep your eyes on the game, gentlemen."

Buggy snorted, clearly pleased, but tried to look annoyed.

"Okay! I won't disturb your boyish party. I'll go to the bedroom and read a book." Catherine leaned over, grabbed a slice of pizza from the box. "Adore you." She said quietly in Buggy's ear and smacked him in the head too.

"Go away and stop ruining my reputation as an angry guy, woman!" Buggy muttered.

"Oh! My clown is angry and the sexual tension between us is growing." Catherine teased, whispering.

"For heaven's sake, woman, go away!! My team is winning. And I promise to buy you the biggest cake with the money I win if you leave me and go to the bedroom right now."

"Okay." Catherine patted Buggy on the shoulder. "But when you're done partying, don't hang around. Just for your information, I stopped by a lingerie store on my way out and bought something.. black and lace. And I really want you to take it off me, my Buggy... sama."

Buggy's brain: blue screen of death.

"You little shit!" He tried to sound confident.

"Now sit there and suffer." Smack.

Catherine went to the bedroom and paused at the doorway.

Grinned.

"See you later, my Buggy...."

"Don't!" Buggy’s eye twitched.

"Didn’t say it," she giggled. "See you later... My Buggy the Clown. Bye, guys!" Catherine closed the door.

"Bye, Cath!" Cabaji waved his hand.

"She’s perfect." Mohji whispered, rubbing his head.

"She’s mine." Buggy growled.

"Yes, you’ve said that. Multiple times. Loudly." Cabaji said, looking at the tv. "WHAT THE FUCK!! NOOOOO!!!"

"Now you own me 220 bucks." Buggy took a swig of beer, grinning despite himself.

[lostfirefly]

Catherine's cooking song :)

The kitchen hums, the morning’s bright, Flour dancing in the light. I stir the mix, I hum along, To the rhythm of a quiet song.

He’s sleeping still, behind that door, The man who laughs, the one I adore. But I’ve seen more than he lets show, The cracks beneath the painted glow.

Oh, my blue-haired clown, with your tired eyes, With your circus heart and clever disguise. You make the world laugh, then fall apart, But I’ve got room for all your parts. And I will hold you when you’re down, I’ll always love my blue-haired clown.

He jokes too loud when the silence stings, Builds a wall out of wild, shiny things. But I’ve kissed the lines around his eyes, He can’t fool me with that disguise.

When the night is dark and he starts to shake, He’ll call it a dream but I know he’s awake. And when he breaks, he breaks so soft, But never lets the mask come off.

Oh, my blue-haired clown, with your haunted grin, With your stubborn pride and battles within. I see the boy who hides inside, Behind the laughter, behind the stride. And I’ll be there when curtains drown, I’ll always love my blue-haired clown.

And maybe he’ll never say it all, The names, the pain, the rise, the fall. But I don't need the full tale told, I love him fierce, I love him bold. 

Oh, my blue-haired clown, with your aching soul,

With your splintered past and your heart of gold. I’ll keep the kettle warm for you, When the spotlight fades, I’ll see you through. And even when the world burns down, I’ll still love you, my blue-haired clown.

[lostfirefly]

Late morning. The ship rocks gently under the sun. You were sitting cross-legged on the deck with a small sketchbook. Buggy lounged nearby in a ridiculous pose on a barrel, shirt half-buttoned, one leg propped up like he’s modeling for a pirate magazine.

“You sure you want me to draw you like this?” You tilted your head, hovering the pencil between your fingers.

“Of course! I deserve to be immortalized." Buggy grinned smugly, twirling one of his detached fingers in the air. "Make sure you get the jawline right sharp as a blade. Because.. I'm perfect. Oh-oh, and don’t forget the nose. It’s iconic."

“You mean big.” You smiled, drawing the lines.

“Bold, thank you very much, Y/N!”

A seagull landed nearby, eyeing Buggy's bright red scarf.

“Uh… I think that bird’s going to steal your scarf.” You pointed at the bird.

“No living creature touches the drip!” Buggy sat up, glaring at the seagull.

He sent a floating hand to shoo it. The seagull squawked and flapped off, leaving behind a single feather… which floated onto Buggy’s nose.

“A pirate’s greatest enemy: feathers.” You giggled.

“I hate nature.” Buggy muttered, brushing it off.

"Yeah, I know. And now sit still."

"Fine!" Buggy rolled his eyes, shaking his head. His long hair cascaded down his back.

"Dear god!" You laughed.

Silence settled again. You kept sketching. Buggy watched you quietly for a second.

"You like drawing me, my lovely almond?”

“I like you, my silly clown.”

“Y-yeah, well…" Buggy flustered, tugging his bandana down over his eyes, "I like being drawn by you… or whatever.”

You smiled. The ocean waves rolled softly beneath both of you.