This Is A Shortie

This is a shortie

@fanaticsnail requested to be tagged in all things Astarion

I felt this one in my bones... be gentle.

And Thus Ends Astarion's Love Affair with the Sun P2

Gale did his best. With the summer sun rising, lighting up the lush green grass, he always got a head start on Lovissa. She slept in, mostly due to the nightmares, but it gave Gale time to make her extravagant breakfasts. He kept telling himself that this wasn't real. This was only temporary... but the feeling of Lovissa wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing his chest as her face laid on his back told him otherwise. "Good Morning Lovi" Gale muttered softly as he flipped an egg in the frying pan, Lovissa groaned into his clothes, he could feel her breath against his neck as she tipped on her tippy toes, she pulled his brown hair to the side ant trailed soft kisses up his neck, Gale let out a low groan as she peppered his skin with soft kisses.

"Thank you for last night" Lovissa muttered as she took the plate from his hand. Gale was so distracted by her actions he forgot he had even made it for her.

"Right. Of course. Just bein' a friend, " Gale chuckled awkwardly as he sat next to her.

"You're more than a friend, Gale," Lovissa said as she ate. That made Gale's heart soar.

"W-what am I then?" Gale asked, Lovissa swallowed and looked at him. He knew he ruined the moment.

"You're not my friend... but you're not my partner... isn't that enough?" Lovissa asked, tilting her head. As fast as Gale's heart was reacing- it immeadatley got crushed... no, it's not enough. And Lovissa figured based on his expression. "What if Astarion comes back?"

"To hells with him! Where is he, Lovi?! You're having nightmares, and I'm getting up at all hours to make sure you don't shake down Withers for someone who isn't dead!" Gale slammed his hand on the oak table. He had enough.

"Astarion doesn't deserve that, Gale! Not when we worked so -"

"What about me, Lovi? What do I deserve? Cause I know it's a whole lot more than being your lover, " Gale muttered as he got up and left the kitchen. And there it was, the realization that Lovissa was spiraling. Using her body to keep comforts around, much like someone she used to know, she sighed heavily and threw her plate across the kitchen, as it shattered she let out a shrill scream, followed by a heartbroken wail, she collapsed to the floor and screamed and cried loudly, she wrapped her arms around herself as she wailed in the middle of the kitchen.

"Where are you?!" Lovissa screamed out in agony. "Why am I not good enough!" She sobbed again, trying to bury her face in the hardwood... she laid there the whole day sobbing loudly and muttering, and praying for Astarion... but she just wasn't enough...

Every shanks girl

Needs her Buggy girl

&

Every Mihawk girl

Needs her Crocodile girl

Lookit these goobs recreating a manga panel and shit

They're so precious 🥹❤️

Suffering Fools (Chapter Two)

Summary: Impatient Buggy returns to Doc Syre.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, Syre fixes a broken arm. It's brief, but I thought it should be mentioned.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! This chapter isn't exactly NSFW, but the fic as a whole is, so I'm gonna label it as such. Enjoy my cringe!

Buggy needed to choose his fights more carefully. He had to find the balance of getting to see the doctor and not being able to enjoy the interaction. Could he have waited a few days to get the stitches out? Sure. But why would he? His potentially broken ribs were the penalty for his hubris as the jailers dragged him between them. It was bad enough that he had to hide his abilities or risk worse conditions, but on top of that, she wasn’t even alone today.

The guards brought him in much the same as they had two or so days before. Syre glanced back from the table she was working at. Buggy got to see her do a double take before looking to the guards and asking, “Again?”

“Hasn’t learned his lesson yet?” Another woman’s voice asked, a touch amused. The woman, Domino, was leaning on the cupboards and watching as Syre tended to another inmate. Her arms were crossed, but her general demeanor was more relaxed than Buggy was used to seeing one from the jailers. Despite the dark sunglasses and blonde hair covering her eyes, Buggy knew she was looking at him.

“I’ll get you fixed up after I’m done with him,” Syre assured Buggy, her voice more professional than their previous interaction would suggest.

“No problem, Dollf-” He caught himself and coughed, his ribs protesting this heavily, “Doc.”

Domino slid her gaze from Buggy to Syre, and the pink haired doctor gave a shrug, the pair deciding it was nothing, “So what happened next?”

Syre brightened, “Right! So Marie and I, livid that they wouldn’t let us go to the party, convinced Avery to sneak in and get us some of the desserts.”

“Why weren’t you allowed to go?” Domino asked with something almost adjacent to a smile.

“I was twelve, Marie nine and Avery six,” Syre explained, then paused, “Could you help me with this?”

Domino uncrossed her arms and allowed Syre to instruct her as she prepared to reset the broken arm of an inmate Buggy didn’t recognize. She had the jailer hold a strip of thick leather in his mouth. Syre was unwavering in her movements. Snapping the bone back into place with precision and stern confidence. The man screamed out in agony and continued to cry as she put his arm in a cast. Even the two men that had brought Buggy in looked away uncomfortably. Once it was all done, she washed his face of sweat. “There we are. You were very brave.”

“Thank you…” The inmate sobbed, clearly a mess from the pain but trying in vain to appear more manly.

She gave him a warm smile as the two guards went to take the inmate back to whatever level he was housed on. She told them with a steely voice how to prevent the arm from getting worse. There was a thinness to her voice though, the cruelty was wearing on her and she knew her words were falling on deaf ears.

Buggy noticed immediately that Syre wasn’t referring to the inmate by the foreign nicknames. He settled into the cold metallic table, smug as can be. The thought that Domino’s presence was the more likely reason didn't cross his mind. He was special to the Doctor.

“So what next?” The blonde jailer hadn’t left yet. Buggy had hoped she would accompany the inmate that was just removed but no such luck. She came to sit at the foot of the table Buggy was strapped to. He wasn’t exactly complaining but he’d hoped for some alone time with the Doc.

“We were much too young to attend such a gathering. Even one thrown by my own family.” Syre explained, as she fetched Buggy’s file and realized the guards hadn’t told her anything. She hastily walked to the door and called down the hall, “WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?”

There was a distant, muffled response that didn’t seem to please her. She began a slew of words in that oddly lyrical language Buggy assumed was her native tongue.

Domino smiled just a little with Syre’s frustration, “Idiots. The lot of them.”

Syre sighed, “It’s like they all share a single brain cell.”

Domino nodded in agreement, “So what happened?”

“Oh they said he got into another fight and wanted me to look him over. Something about his chest looking bad.” Syre explained, clearly annoyed by their lack of details, “I hope his ribs are not broken…”

She lifted the hem of his shirt to start her examination, concern soaking into her eyes before they widened at the sight of the blue hair that sat low on his stomach. It was almost enough for her to completely forget about the bruising.

“I meant the party.”

“Oh!” Syre laughed brightly. Dropping the shirt and continuing her story, as she took his vitals and jotted them down, “Marie and I convinced Avery to sneak down into the party. She was the smallest, therefore not easily spotted and if she was caught, she could burst into tears. She was quite talented with that. Boo Hoo! Papa, I had a nightmare! You understand.”

“Cute.”

“We thought so too,” Syre smiled, looking proud of her past self, “We told her to go down and get some of the cakes for us to share.”

“She got caught and couldn’t cry?” Domino predicted.

“No, worse.” Syre said, getting her stethoscope and warming it with her hands. It was then that Buggy noticed she wasn’t wearing the gloves from before. One was in his pocket at present. It smelled of her perfume and may have had a new smearing of red paint.

“We weren’t specific enough with her and she, somehow, got a three tier cake out of the party without being caught.”

“What?! How?”

Syre gestured vaguely, “Not a clue! We meant for her to get maybe a plate with some of the cookies and little cakes. Something easy to hide but nooooo. Avery said go big because she was already at home.”

Syre sat on the edge of the table, half considering cutting away his entire shirt or asking Domino to help her remove it. She felt something caress her thigh. It was just the slightest of touches, hardly a caress but it caused her to stammer, “W-we panicked of course. We tossed around the idea of sneaking it back into the party but it was lucky she wasn’t caught taking it. We didn’t want to risk it. So we did what any young girls would do.”

“Tried to eat it all yourselves?”

Syre gave a grave nod. She was trying hard to disregard the suggestive caresses to her thigh.

Domino chuckled, “How did that go?”

“We still feel nauseous at the smell of coconut cake,” Syre shuddered.

Domino’s chuckling ended in a sigh, “I should probably get back.” She didn’t sound like she wanted to. It seemed like everyone grew tired of the cold, militaristic atmosphere at Impel Down and enjoyed just feeling like people in a more normal workplace. Syre already missed being able to talk with her sisters and mother. Talking with Domino had sort of filled that void but it was different. She’d tried to do the same with Sadi but it hadn’t gone as well. The woman frightened her, if she was being honest.

Buggy stifled the urge to nod vigorously. He was growing impatient. Touching Syre's leg and getting her flustered was fun but the man wanted to flirt and make her blush.

“Actually,” Syre began, “Could you help me again?”

NO! Buggy thought and it reached his face before he shoved it back down.

Domino nodded, “Sure. What do you need?”

“I want to get a good look at his chest and back, and check his lungs but in order to do that, I need to unstrap him.” Syre explained while focusing on keeping herself calm. She was a professional. This patient was no different than her last. Plenty of patients, especially here, made eyes at her. They made comments about her appearance. She was being ridiculous. Their last interaction had been a momentary lapse in judgment. Her life had been fairly sheltered before. It was new and exciting to have a pirate get so desperate for her touch. It wouldn’t happen again.

Domino had caught Syre’s meaning and readied her weapon. Syre looked down at Buggy, warning him, “I don’t want to have to take care of a gunshot wound with nothing for the pain.”

Buggy’s curiosity was piqued by how she kept her voice so level and firm when her eyes were brimming with compassion. He nodded his own understanding, getting shot didn’t sound like fun to him either.

He could see Syre inwardly debating how best to unstrap him from the table. She shrugged and started with his head then worked her way down. He grunted as he slowly got in a sitting position.

“Could you please remove your shirt?” Syre asked, mentally patting herself on the back. So far, so good. Her face wasn’t warm. She was cool as a cucumber. Buggy peeled off his shirt and Syre swallowed hard, hoping Domino was too focused on Buggy to notice. Her eyes ran over his bare torso and she felt her cucumber coolness melting away. She didn’t know why it hadn’t quite sunk in that he would be sculpted like this. He was a pirate captain. That meant he did work on a ship and likely had been doing so since he was a boy. Why wouldn’t he be covered in hardened muscle? Maybe it was the fact that he looked like a clown that threw her off of the trail. Speaking of trails… the blue hair was on full display and Syre had to shake her head to dislodge the urge to gawk. Cool as a cucumber.

To begin her examination, she took in the quantity of the bruises around his stomach and chest. Circling the table to see how bad they were on his back. There were a few that gave her pause and she had to stop herself from appearing too soft about it. Once she was at his front again, she stepped closer. Not quite between his legs, though the thought did cross her mind. It didn’t seem like a bright idea even with a gun trained on him. She finally took the stethoscope and pressed it to his heart. She listened for a long moment before nodding in approval. Moving it over she said, “Alright, Mon-,” She caught herself but didn’t cover it well, “Um… could you give me a deep breath?”

Buggy did as she asked. He glanced over at her briefly as he did so. She was stone faced and listening intently. “Did that hurt?”

“Not much.”

“Another, slower this time.”

As before he did as she requested, twice more after. She moved the stethoscope to his back, placing a hand on his shoulder and asking him for more deep breathing. Each time she inquired about pain but his answers were negative except the final breath that came with a tight grimace. Her eyes went soft with that and searched his face. The look he gave her in return was overwhelmingly filled with hunger. It made her mouth go dry with its promise of all it wanted to do with her. Completely unabashed, his eyes told her that he didn’t care that he was at gunpoint. His eyes wanted her to know that if Domino wasn’t there, he’d mark her body with red paint. It made her legs feel like jelly.

She avoided looking at Domino as she removed the stethoscope, “Your lungs seem fine. Why don’t you lie down?’

With Domino’s help, he was strapped back down. Syre had to stifle a squeak as he took the chance while laying down to run the backs of his fingers down her thigh. Syre stopped Domino from binding his chest as she was going to check his ribs. With Buggy secured, Domino clicked her tongue.

“Now I should really get back…” Domino sighed, “See you tonight?”

Syre looked up from Buggy’s exposed chest. She hoped Domino thought she was merely doing an examination rather than the blatant ogling she had been indulging in. “Yes. I will be there.”

“Great.”

The shutting of the door echoed in Syre’s mind. She was alone with Buggy now. He was resting his eyes but his painted lips were smirking. There was a long moment for the both of them where Syre searched for something to say but words were frightfully lost in her dry mouth. One of Buggy’s eyes cracked open as Syre was wringing her hands.

“So no coconut cake?” He asked, making her jump a little.

Once she realized what he’d said, she laughed, “No, I can’t stand the stuff.”

“What do you like?”

Syre cocked a brow, “For dessert or…?”

He shrugged as best as he could, “Surprise me.”

Syre thought for a moment while starting to gently poke and prod at his ribs. “I really like Lemon

Meringue.”

“Never heard of it.” He said with a grunt as one of the bruises disagreed with Syre’s prodding.

“Sorry, Mon Chér,” She cooed. “It’s a pie that has lemon curd topped with whipped egg whites and sugar. It was the only thing my mother insisted on making herself. She said the cook never got it quite right.”

Buggy’s brows shot up, “Cook? Sounds like you were a silver spoon kinda girl.”

“Eh,” Syre replied, “What about you? What do you like?”

“Besides Doctors with cotton candy hair?”

Syre’s resolve crumbled. Her face bent to the temptation and she blushed full and hot to the tips of her ears. “I meant to eat, silly.”

“I said what I said, Sweetcheeks.” He grinned at her, large, toothy and deeply immodest.

The frightening yet tantalizing look made her push a little too hard. The seduction cracked as he yowled in pain.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, withdrawing her hands like he was on fire. "You need to stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what, Sweetness?" He feigned innocence but his eyes still held the dark, sensual playfulness.

She flicked his nose, "Like that! It's full of sin and very distracting."

"Oh? Is that so?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, blinking his long eyelashes at her.

She looked at him, thoroughly devoid of humor yet still blushing mildly, "I have scalpels."

“Is that a promise, Sweets? Slice me up and serve me like your lemon pie?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively but the effect was more comical than carnal.

Syre let herself laugh, which seemed to please him. Once the laughs had run out, she pulled up a chair and sat as face to face with him as she could. She didn’t loom over him. Smoothing her jacket, the last of her amusement lingered in her eyes. “Mon Chér… I need to check your ribs and I can’t do that when you’re being a scoundrel, and making my head fuzzy.”

Her face was so filled with concern that it struck Buggy. She actually cared. Not because it was her job, not because she would get anything for it, not even deep down. The sincere air to her face was an open book.

“Fine. But only until you’re done with my ribs. I can’t make any promises after that.”

Her face lit up, “Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t tell anyone I follow orders from you, Toots.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Syre stood, gingerly checking each rib then the cartilage closer to the center. Her touch was delicate, like he was a priceless work of art and she was appraising him. Warm brown eyes like cognac flitted between his chest and face. Searching for the pain he might conceal behind bravado. Her bare fingers caused goosebumps to raise and more than once she had to stop her eyes from traveling further down. She wondered if her touch was giving him a similar reaction as their previous encounter. Would she do much the same if it was? Would she push further?

“You didn’t answer my question from a bit ago,” Syre said, softly. Her voice was distant, not uninterested but focused on what she was doing. The need to make polite small talk warring with her methods as a physician. It lended more credence to Buggy’s theory that she came from a more well to do upbringing. What he didn’t consider was she was trying desperately to cool her fantasies.

“About what? I was distracted by a pretty doctor.”

A smile flashed across her face, “What do you like? Foodwise.”

“Nothing as fancy as lemon meringue. Hotdogs, I love hotdogs.”

“I’ve never had one,” Syre admitted.

“Of course you didn’t, your cook had better things to make,” He teased.

Syre rolled her eyes. “Out of curiosity, what things would you do if I said the examination is over?”

She’d lost the war with modesty in her head.

A devilish smirk spread across his face, equal parts dark and jovial, “You like when I’m… what was the word you used? Sinful?”

She held her face as neutral as she could muster. This was the third time she was going over his ribs. He couldn’t tell if she was just being extra sure or enjoyed touching his chest with her bare hands. It could be both. He wouldn’t complain about both.

“I have a favor to repay, Doll. I gave you options and I know which one I’d take to repay it.” He said, licking his lips.

“If your ribs were broken or even cracked, I wouldn’t risk making them worse,” Syre straightened and placed her hands on her hips.

“My face ain’t my ribs.” He smirked, “You’re avoiding what I asked. You like this, don’t you?”

Syre went to answer but the words caught in her throat. She looked down at him. Her eyes only briefly lingering on his lips before holding his gaze. She replied honestly. "I shouldn't but..."

“You do.” He finished for her and she nodded making her curls bounce.

“I ain’t complaining,” he said in an odd effort to comfort her that was still drenched in smugness.

Syre collapsed back in the chair and bit her lip. Buggy watched her do it and saw the conundrum in her mind. She was a Marine and a Doctor in a prison full of some of the worst scum imaginable. Yet she was enjoying attention from said scum. She was indulging in something wrong in its own right. Did this make her a bad doctor? Most likely.

“No no Sweets, you really ought to let me do that biting for you…” Buggy purred, pulling her away from her semi-spiral.

She blinked at him and a single laugh burst out before she could stop it, “I thought you were going to stop being rakish until the exam was over?”

“I did my best.” He tried to shrug but was still woefully tied down.

Running a hand through her hair, Syre took a deep breath. “Alright… so… the good news, I don’t think any of your ribs are broken. Nor do I think any of them are cracked. You got lucky.”

“Lucky would be you on top of me,” Buggy retorted.

Syre tried to give him an unamused look but he only winked at her. She stood, folding his shirt neatly and preparing to go for the door.

Buggy cleared his throat to stop her, “Before you call the guards to take me back to hell, you hurt me Sweetcheeks. Flicking my nose and all. I think by your own policy, you owe me a kiss.”

Syre lifted a brow with a smirk of her own, “You’re quite right.”

Without hesitation, Syre leaned down and kissed his nose.

Buggy laid there in shock. It happened so fast he had little time to process it, much less the ease in which she had done it. Like she’d been thinking about doing so for days. He saw it happen, felt the tenderness then saw her pleased smile. As he stared, she strode to the door and called for the guards.

“No more fights, Mon Chér,” She commanded as the guards filed in to take him back to level one. His shirt was handed to the guard and in turn thrown in Buggy’s face. She held his gaze as he scrambled to pull it on, soft blush warming her cheeks as she got a good last look at his exposed chest and with just the barest bite to her lower lip.

Buggy was about to get into another fight.

You can't spell "Circus" without "us"✨