Thinking about sitting on Paulie’s lap, dry humping him while Iceburg sits behind, leaving lipstick marks and groping him while occasionally making out with me
OP Rarepair Valentine's Event: 3/8 - iceburg x lucci
why i ship it: honestly i love this ship because i love a good betrayal lol + seducing people for the mission!!!!! + lucci is a coldhearted bastard <3 + the betrayal!!!
shoutout to @99kahoy's amazing icelucci art!!
fic rec: go read @hawksbrood's fic Leopard Taming!! so good
I hope you dont mind another request!! Its cold out and I'm thinking about some fiery DF users: Ace, Sabo, and Marco -- warming up reader on a cold night. :)
𝙰𝚌𝚎, 𝚂𝚊𝚋𝚘, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖
𝔸𝕔𝕖
The wind howled outside the small, rented cabin, rattling the windowpanes with icy fury. You were bundled under every blanket you could find, but a persistent shiver still traced its way down your spine.
"You still cold?"
You cracked an eye open to see Ace propped up on his elbow beside you, a concerned look on his handsome face. The freckles scattered across his nose stood out in the dim firelight.
"Just a bit," you admitted, your teeth chattering slightly.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Silly. You should've just said something." He shifted closer, and before you could react, a faint, orange-red glow began to emanate from his skin. The air around him shimmered with a sudden, intense heat, like being basked in the sun on the perfect summer day. He tugged you against his bare chest, and the heat from his logia powers immediately began to chase away the chill.
"Better?" he asked after a moment, his voice a soft rumble against your hair.
You hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer. "So much better. You're my own personal furnace."
He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you. "Anytime." He held you for a while longer, his hand tracing slow, soothing circles on your back. Then, you felt him shift, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive whisper right by your ear. "You know... there's another way to keep you warm if you get what I meant."
The blatant innuendo, combined with the heat already flooding your cheeks, made you recoil instinctively. You pulled back just enough to glare at him, your fist shooting out to connect lightly with his shoulder.
"Ow! Hey!" he yelped, though he was grinning from ear to ear, completely unrepentant. He didn't even flinch at the impact. "What was that for?"
"For being a pervert!" you scolded, but there was no heat in your voice, only amusement.
He just laughed, rubbing his shoulder dramatically. "I'm just offering my services! A true gentleman provides all kinds of warmth." He waggled his eyebrows, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips.
"You're impossible," you sighed, settling back against his chest, the punch having done nothing to diminish the wonderful heat he was giving off.
"Impossible, but warm," he corrected, wrapping his arms around you even tighter and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "And I'm not letting you go until you forget what cold even feels like."
𝕊𝕒𝕓𝕠
The revolutionary base was nestled high in the mountains, and winters here were brutal. You were hunched over a desk in the small room you shared with Sabo, trying to finish a report, but your fingers were so stiff you could barely hold the pen.
"This is useless," you grumbled, rubbing your hands together for friction.
A pair of strong, gloved arms suddenly wrapped around you from behind, and a chin came to rest on your shoulder. "Having trouble, love?"
"Sabo! You scared me." You leaned back into his embrace, grateful for the sudden warmth he provided.
"You're going to freeze to death at this rate," he chided gently. "The report can wait."
"But Dragon wants it by morning."
"And Dragon can wait a few more hours. He's not the one turning into an icicle." With a soft grunt, he lifted you right out of your chair, spinning you around to face him. His eyes were soft with affection. He took your ice-cold hands in his and brought them to his lips, blowing warm air onto your frozen knuckles.
It was a sweet gesture, but then you saw a faint flicker in his gaze. He smirked, a mischievous glint appearing. "Or," he started, "we could try a more... direct approach."
You barely had time to register his meaning before a tiny, controlled flame flickered to life on his gloved thumb. He carefully brought the flame closer to your cupped hands. The heat was immediate and intense, but perfectly contained. You could feel the blood rushing back into your fingertips, a tingling, almost painful sensation that quickly gave way to pure relief.
"Sabo! Be careful!" you whispered, though you didn't pull away.
"I am," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. He extinguished the flame as quickly as it had appeared and began to massage your hands with his own, his touch now impossibly warm. "Better?"
You nodded, feeling the warmth spread all the way up your arms. "You're full of surprises."
"Only for you," he said, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned in, his gaze capturing yours. "I hate seeing you cold. Let me take care of you."
Your heart hammered in your chest. "You are," you breathed out.
"Not enough," he whispered, and then he closed the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow and deep. It was far warmer than any flame, a heat that started in your toes and spread through your entire body, chasing away every last trace of the mountain's chill. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the now-warm air.
"Still feel the cold?" he asked softly.
You shook your head, a dazed smile on your face. "Not at all."
𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕠
The seas were frozen solid, and the Moby Dick was anchored in the only safe harbor for miles. You were standing on the deck, staring out at the bleak, white landscape, when a pair of large, warm wings suddenly enveloped you from behind.
"You'll catch your death out here, yoi."
You smiled, leaning back into the feathery embrace. "I couldn't sleep. It's too cold below deck."
Marco's wings were a miracle, radiating a gentle, constant heat that was uniquely his. He tightened them around you, creating a perfect, private cocoon that blocked out the biting wind. His blue flames flickered faintly around his shoulders, casting a glow on the snow.
"The cold doesn't bother me as much when I'm like this," he rumbled, his voice a low, calming vibration against your back.
You turned in his arms to face him, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. He was not exactly his full phoenix form, just his arms turning into wings, and the heat rolling off him was heavenly. "It's a handy talent," you said, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "What? Are you gonna keep me warm like a bird keeping warm their eggs?"
Marco blinked, and then a slow, wide grin spread across his face. He let out a dramatic, put-upon sigh. "Oh, is that all I am to you? A glorified incubator?" With a playful huff, he suddenly dropped his wings and took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. The immediate loss of his intense warmth made you shiver. "Well, in that case, you can freeze to death then."
You gasped, but it was immediately followed by a giggle as you saw the teasing smirk he was trying to hide. "Oh, no you don't!"
You launched yourself forward, grabbing the front of his coat and yanking him back toward you. He stumbled a step, laughing as you crashed against his chest. His wings shot back out to wrap around you, the heat returning in a blissful rush.
"Alright, alright! I take it back!" you giggled, burrowing into his feathery embrace. "You're not a bird, you're the sexiest phoenix on the seas."
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated right through you. "That's more like it, yoi." He tightened his hold, his chin resting on top of your head. "Now, are you going to make any more jokes, or can I get back to the important business of keeping you warm?"
You tilted your head back to look at him, your smile softening. "No more jokes, I promise. Just... keep me warm, Marco."
His eyes softened, the playful glint replaced by a look of pure adoration. "Gladly," he murmured, and then he lowered his head to kiss you, a slow, deep kiss that was far warmer than any flame.
He catches you mid-wobble. One arm hooked around your waist.
“You good?” he grunts.
You blink up at him like he’s the moon and the stars and the last piece of dessert in the fridge.
“...Did anyone ever tell you you’re like… disgustingly sexy?”
He blinks. “What.”
You grab his face. Both hands. Zero fear.
“I love you, Zoro. I love your eyebrows and your stupid bandana and the way you say ‘hm’ like a stupid caveman.”
He is frozen. Frozen.
“I’d let you carry me into battle like a sack of potatoes and I’d say thank you.”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. You are swaying in his grip like a heart-eyed gremlin.
“You don’t geeeet it,” you whisper. “You don’t even KNOW how much I love you. You’re my FAVORITE sword. And you have 3.”
He fakes a cough to ground himself.
“…Look, let’s get you to bed before you start confessing to the other swords.”
You gasp. “I’d never cheat on you with Wado Ichimonji.”
He’s never been more flustered in his life.
SANJI
You are clinging to him like you were born for it. Cheek pressed to his chest. Arms wrapped tight.
“Mon ange,” he says, half-laughing, “you’ve had three glasses and a shot you weren’t supposed to have—”
“I LOVE you,” you whimper. “Like. I wanna marry your smile. I wanna kiss your kneecaps.”
He chokes. “My what—”
“You’re so pretty it’s actually disrespectful. Like tone it down or propose, coward.”
His heart is screaming.
You start swaying dramatically. “Do you even know what you do to me?! You’re like if espresso could flirt.”
He blushes. You keep going.
“I would fight a sea king for you. Bare-handed. In heels.”
He’s wheezing. He knows he should stop you. But he can’t.
“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and also you cook like God personally blessed your hands.”
He dips down, kisses your forehead.
“Keep talking like that, and I’ll start planning the honeymoon menu.”
SMOKER
You're leaning on him. Fully. Slumped against his chest like he’s a smoky mountain made of comfort.
He sighs. “You’re drunk again.”
“Shhhh,” you mumble, poking his bicep. “I’m admiring the structural integrity of my boyfriend.”
He freezes. “…Your what?”
You smile. Dizzy. Adoring. “Mmmm, you’re built like a tank and I wanna climb you like scaffolding.”
He goes red. Entire face. Ears too.
“I love youuu,” you whisper. “Like. Deep, primal, for life shit. Like I wanna drag you back to my room and knit you sweaters.”
“You don’t even know how to knit.”
“I’d learn. For you. I’d knit with barbed wire if that’s what you needed.”
He clears his throat like it's gonna fix the emotional damage.
“The way you’re gonna regret saying all this tomorrow when you wake up and remember.”
You boop his nose. “Only if you forget to say ‘I love you too,’ my emotionally constipated commander.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just turns his head, hiding a smile the size of Marineford.
KUZAN
You're hanging off his arm. Head resting on his shoulder. Eyes half-lidded and sparkling with inebriated truth.
“Kuuuuzan…”
He hums. “Mm?”
“I love you.”
He raises a brow. “I know.”
“NO you don’t,” you whine. “You think I love you normal. I don’t.”
He chuckles. “You don’t?”
“No!! I love you STUPID. I love you SO MUCH I wanna cry about it. Like, I wanna cook you breakfast for dinner and live in your chest. Live in it.”
He stops walking. Blinks. Looks down at you.
You nod seriously. “You’re my favorite. I’d defrost a glacier with my bare hands if it meant five more minutes with you.”
“…That’s extremely specific,” he mutters.
You grab his face, frustrated. “You don’t get ittttt. I wuuuv yoooou!”
He exhales a sigh, but the smile on his face is telling.
“Alright, alright. Let’s get you to bed, snowflake.”
You pout. “Carry me. I'm too full of emotion.”
He absolutely does.
KIDD
You stumble into his workshop like a chaotic daydream.
Hair messy. Lips pouty. Arms flung wide.
“KIIIIIDD—!”
He turns. Wrench in hand. “The hell’s wrong with you—”
You practically launch into his chest. “You’re so HOT it makes me STUPID.”
He freezes. “...What.”
You poke his chest. Then his shoulder. Then his arm.
“LOOK at you. You’re like if a motorcycle had feelings.”
He blinks. “You’re drunk off your ass.”
“I’m in LOVE. There’s a difference.”
You pout. “You’re loud and mean and I’d let you throw me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes and I’d say ‘thank you, sir.’”
He turns red from the ears down.
“I, uh—I don’t know what to do with that.”
You pat his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. Just be my scary metal boyfriend and I’ll feed you snacks and tell you how pretty you are.”
He stares. Then mutters while turning away:
“...You’re lucky as shit you’re cute.”
You nod, squeezing him. “I am. I’m also yours.”
He cusses, but his face matches his hair.
BECKMAN
You stumble into the common room, arms wide like you’re about to narrate an epic love ballad.
He’s on the couch. Calm. Reading. Glances up.
“…You okay?”
You point dramatically. “No. I’m in love with you and it’s a medical emergency.”
He closes the book. Slowly. “Is it.”
You wobble over. Drop into his lap like a dramatic lead in a play.
“Do you know how handsome you are? You make me wanna, like, write poetry in bad handwriting.”
He blinks. “Bad handwriting?”
“YES. Because I’d be too busy thinking about you to write straight!”
He chuckles. “Wow. You sound worse than the captain right now.”
You grab his face, gently. “I love your face. I love your voice. I love your grumpy bedtime voice and your hands and your back muscles and—”
He kisses you to shut you up. You gasp.
“I wasn’t done—!”
“I’m saving the rest for when you’re sober,” he murmurs. “So I can hear it again.”
You melt in his arms. He doesn’t even try to stop smiling.
DOFLAMINGO
He’s lounging on the couch. Shirt open. One leg over the armrest. Full smug mode.
Then you stumble into the room like you just downed an entire espresso pot in one shot.
“DOFFFFYYYYYY~”
He raises a brow. “Oh? Emptied out my wine cellar again?”
You collapse onto him. “No—I mean—maybe—okay, yeah.”
He laughs. Hard. But his hand finds its way around your waist.
“At least bring me some next time.”
Hic.
“Okay, wait, but you’re so handsome it makes me wanna commit crimes in your name.”
He leans in with a grin. “I mean, I’m not stopping you.”
Suddenly, you cup his cheeks with both hands. “You’re evil and dramatic and gorgeous and I’d follow you into hell wearing matching outfits. I can rock pink feathers, too.”
His grin fades. Just a bit. Eyes narrow. Watching you carefully.
Feeling just how warm your palms feel against his face.
“Heh, you don’t even know what you’re saying. How many bottles did you down?”
“Six!” you cry. “But even if I was totally sober I’d kiss your evil little heart every night until you stopped pretending you don’t need love.”
He goes quiet.
You boop his nose.
“…Oh, and I embroidered a little flamingo on your undies.”
He kisses you.
Like you said something he wishes he couldn’t blame on wine.
LUCCI
You find him in his office. Quiet. Late. Reading something top secret.
You burst in wearing pajamas and good intentions.
“LUUUUCCCCHIIIIIIII~”
He sets the file down. Slowly. “Why are you screaming? And why are you inebriated on a Tuesday night?”
“I’m en-ee-vee-bri-tatted on YOUUUU.”
He blinks. “...That’s not a word.”
You wobble toward him. “It IS. You’re all… brooding and stabby and tall and I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. My kitty cat, for real.”
He sighs, before turning back to his paper.
“Intoxication level: drastic.”
You lean in. Press your forehead to his chest.
And you go off.
“I love your scary energy. I love your stupid suit. I love how your voice drops when you say my name and how you look at me like you’re calculating how much I mean to you and it’s SO RUDE and I LOVE IT.”
His hand is hovering near your back like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to hold you.
“I’d adopt Hattori just to be your wife legally.”
He exhales slowly. “That bird is already a government agent.”
You blink up at him. “So are you. And yet I still want to kiss your face until you file a formal complaint.”
He stares. Long. Silently.
Then—
He cups your chin.
And kisses you like he’s been waiting years for permission.
“…You better mean all that by morning,” he whispers.
You hiccup. “Every word, kitten.”
And for once?
He lets himself laugh. And holds you close.
A/N: I know it's been a while and I'm still trying to get back into the swing of things again and find a proper routine and schedule because I'm not posting as often as I'd like to be. Things are slightly settling again so hopefully that means I can catch up on requests and other things. Thank you for this request anon and thank you to everyone who voted for Sabo and Lucci to feature too. Lucci was a trickier one for this scenario but I'm happy with what I came up with for him. Hope you all enjoy ☺️
*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*
DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI
———————
BUGGY
For every success, every accomplishment, every ounce of praise and adoration he received from his crew coupled with every rise of his bounty in the paper, Buggy always waited with gnashed teeth and hardened glare to see that again and again the spotlight, his spotlight, was taken from him. The recipient of the focus and attention that was rightfully his? That no-good rival of his, the one ruining his plans and getting in his way again and again. Buggy always anticipated it, knew it was coming because it was in his rival’s very nature to outdo him. It was like he would rest until he made him look like a fool, until he’d taken all of his spotlight, his dreams, his treasure.
Tonight his rival had accomplished the most heinous theft of all. Buggy’s eyes were trained on the despicable sight before him. There you stood, his greatest treasure, looking a greater vision than usual with a the brightest smile and a gaze so filled with love that it made him overcome with joy and jealous fury. That was a look you ordinarily only gave him, that made him feel like he could take on an entire Navy fleet single-handed. Now? You were giving it to him. Shanks. It made Buggy’s blood boil to see the smug bastard stare at you the way he did, hold your hand the way he was all the while you spoke your wedding vows. Vows that you should have said-that Buggy had hoped you’d one day say- to him, no one else.
Buggy was rooted in place, unable to intervene, unable to stop either you or Shanks from finishing your wedding. Then as you leant in to kiss your now husband, Buggy flinched to see Shanks briefly look away from your face to look his way. The lazy smirk was enough, no words were needed. It was his way of saying ‘I won.’
You had been sleeping so soundly, warm and secure under the blanket and curled up against the pillows and in Buggy’s arms only to be suddenly and jarringly woken by a furious yell and sent flopping back against the mattress. As you blinked through your disorientation and tried to gather your wits about you, Buggy was already out of bed and angrily spitting curses and declaring war on Shanks as he he threw on the light causing your to groan and shield your eyes to the abrupt brightness. “Buggy what’s going on?”
“Oh he’s done it this time!” Buggy ranted, too lost in his plan for vengeance to discern reality and his mind’s imagination. “That bastard is going to be begging me for mercy by the time I’m through with him! He’ll scream and cry and it still won’t be enough! I need him to suffer for this.”
“Wha? Who?” You grumbled in confusion trying to force your limbs to comply and force yourself to sit up in the bed. Biting back a heavy yawn you crossed your arms loosely on your propped up knees and slowly followed Buggy’s manic pacing around the room. “What happened Bug?”
“Red hair!” Buggy seethed, tearing open a drawer and grabbing handfuls of sea charts and began to look them over as if one of them would magically have a ‘Shanks is here’ written next to one of the drawn islands. “Thinks he can just marry you and get away with it?! I don’t think so! He doesn’t deserve you!”
That was enough to shake you from your sleep-heavy stupor and the pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. You let out a small, soft sigh and pushed away the covers before padding towards your lover. The more agitated he was getting the more he was separating his body to gesture widely and angrily. By the time you reached him, he was in the middle of describing the in-depth way he was going to torture his former crew-mate. You settled your hands on his shoulders and coaxed him to turn and face you. At the feel of your touch, Buggy stopped and his severed head that had been reaching very close to the ceiling stopped and looked down at you. He slowly began to let his limbs retract back and once his head was in reach you smiled up at him, lifting your hands you managed to cup his jaw.
“Shanks didn’t marry me.” You reassured him softly, thumbs soothingly caressing his cheeks as he finally reattached himself. “Just a silly dream. See? I’m right here with you.”
“Yeah…You’re here.” Buggy let out a restrained sigh, his gaze dropping from your face to glare at the floor. It may have been a dream but Shanks always got his way. If he wanted you, he’d swoop you off your feet like it was nothing. “For now at least.”
The last half had been a soft muttering, he hadn’t even intended to say it, only think it but with the nightmare still clinging to his mind and it unrooting his deep and longstanding feeling of insignificance compared to Shanks. Abruptly you flicked Buggy’s forehead, snapping him out of his twisting thoughts. “For always.” You insisted firmly. You leant in and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek before turning towards the bed again, confident your words would snap him out of his worries. “Don’t believe me? Put a ring on my finger if you really want to make sure.”
CROCODILE
Crocodile knew the high stakes gambles that occurred in everyday life. Especially the life of a criminal. A pirate. Every action came with the risk of a reward and an even greater risk of losing it all in a matter of seconds. He knew that better than most. He’d lost his hand and didn’t let it break him. When he was on the cusp of gaining everything he’d ever dreamed of in his plans to overtake Alabasta and gain a secret weapon it was all taken away from him by some no-good rookie in a strawhat. Even then he managed to claw back from that, breaking out of prison along with the same little runt responsible for putting him there. Crocodile put everything into his newfound freedom to getting stronger, to being on top once more. With every passing day that came and he built his name back up from nothing he truly believed he wasn’t going to lose again.
That was until he realised all those other loses meant nothing. They paled in comparison to this. He would gladly take those knocks and defeats time and time again if that meant this, what he was seeing now wasn’t happening, would never happen. At this moment he wished nothing more than to be able to conjure his sand to shield you and to envelop the cretin that dared to lay his hand on you while reciting marriage vows but for some reason his power wouldn’t work. Not even a single grain of sand would appear and do his bidding. It failed him and he had no choice but to stand and watch you marry Doflamingo. Even worse you were doing so willingly. As you spoke your vows you held no sign of hesitation or fear. No matter how hard he looked he saw no sign of Doflamingo’s strings manipulating your body to force you to reach out and take his hand. You didn’t even flinch when it came to the kiss and Crocodile felt bile rise in his throat to see you eagerly lean into the embrace.
Crocodile woke with a short but sharp inhale and with a low sigh he lifted his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose as he calmed himself from the tension still coiling in his body and rid himself of the images that had decided to disrupt what should have been a pleasant night’s sleep. Ever since getting out of Impel Down and reuniting with you, he’d only be able to find a peaceful rest with you. And those dreams that did feature you were always something he enjoyed. Until tonight. See you looking so stunning and so in love but doing so for someone else, especially someone like Doflamingo had gotten to him more than he wanted to admit. With another sigh he looked down to see you draped over him, sleeping soundly and from your expression he could see you were not afflicted with nightmares like he had been. As he studied your face the image of you beaming excitedly at Doflamingo in anticipation of the kiss flashed in his head and he let out a frustrated growl.
It was childish to cling to thoughts like that. It wasn’t real. You weren’t interested in Doflamingo. Certainly not that way and hardly enough to marry the Warlord. He knew the difference between reality and fantasy. So why was it still playing on his mind like this? Knowing he wasn’t going to get back to sleep anytime soon, Crocodile began to ease out of the bed only to stop when you stirred. In protest your arms tightened around his broad frame and your face scrunched up in annoyance. “Where’re you goin?”
“Just to get some fresh air.” Crocodile murmured, settling his hand on your shoulder to begin getting out of bed again. Instead you strengthened your efforts to cling to him and keep him where he was. “Just go back to sleep and I’ll be back before you know it okay?”
“No don’t go!” You grumbled, now throwing your legs around him too. At the moment you were both traveling through a winter island and it made you clingier than normal. With a yawn you nuzzled in closer to Crocodile. “You’re warm, too cosy. Stay.”
“If you were in Dressrosa you’d be warm even without me.” Crocodile mused softly, knowing it was pointless to try and move again. He would’t fully admit it but he didn’t want to.
“Why’d I want to go there?” You asked sleepily, managing to lift your head up enough to look at him curiously. “You do remember who lives there don’t you?”
From the look of unrestrained annoyance at the implication of Doflamingo, it was safe to say that yes, Crocodile did in fact know who was there. Which only furthered your sleepy confusion about why Crocodile would mention the island. “What’s wrong Croc?”
“Just a dream.” Crocodile’s answer was short but not sharp. You were the only person he would speak openly with. Even with a handful of words, it was enough for you to begin to decipher.
“That I ran off to Dressrosa?”
“Mhm…” Crocodile gently ran his knuckles against your cheek. “To marry Doflamingo.”
Your eyebrows rose slightly and you let out a soft laugh. “I’d rather eat glass.” You grinned at the sound of Crocodile’s deep chuckle, feeling him relax at last. “But maybe dream-me only said yes because dream-Doflamingo asked?”
“Is that so?” Crocodile asked with a smirk, watching you settle back down against his chest and close your eyes to go back to sleep. Your hold on him remaining just as strong as it had been earlier.
“Mhm. Just something to think about.” You uttered softly, smiling to yourself when you began to drift to sleep to the feeling of Crocodile’s fingers lightly move over yours, specifically focussing on your currently bare ring finger. Yes, he’d definitely think about it.
SABO
It had been amazing to reunite with Luffy and his crew again in the middle of another mission. Thankfully this one was more laidback and not as intense or with as high stakes as the events on Dressrosa. Even better had been the fact that you had come along with Sabo on this particular mission which meant you finally got to meet the little brother of your boyfriend. Yes you’d seen his face on the bounty posters and scattered in newspaper reports, and when Sabo had reclaimed his memories of his brothers and returned from Dressrosa, he couldn’t help but excitedly talk about his remaining brother. It had felt like you’d known the chaotic and energetic Captain your whole life before actually getting to meet him face to face. It made Sabo’s mood even better to see you get along so well with Luffy and his crew.
So it was shocking when later that night he was given such a twisted dream to torture him. He was stuck in the dream with no control to change the images before him, unable to even move or shout out. Try as he did to shut his eyes and try to wake himself up he couldn’t. No. He had to take in every single detail and watch you -the person he loved more than anything- literally walk through him like he didn’t exist and walk to the front of the altar where your husband-to-be stood waiting. While Sabo’s jaw had dropped at how amazing you looked and literally made his heart skip a beat even though you didn’t seem to know he existed in this dream, his shock and horror came at the sight of who it was. It had been years since he saw him but the Revolutionary Army’s extensive intelligence had allowed him to know how he’d look now and his hate all but grew to even greater reaches as he watched this horrorshow of a wedding play out.
Thankfully his subconscious took pity on him and ended before the stomach churning kiss happened. He must have tried to stop you both at the same time he woke because with a yell he’d launched himself out of the bed and landed awkwardly on the floor, legs tangled in the sheets and his bleary vision sharpening to find everything was upside down. Craning his head back Sabo saw you looking down at him expectantly, lips curved in amusement in spite of clearly being woken by him. “Even when you’re sleeping, you aren’t satisfied unless you’re playing the hero, huh Chief?”
“What do you mean?” Sabo asked with a groan as he untangled himself and climbed back into bed with you.
“You were talking a lot.” You explained, having been awake for most of watching Sabo experience his dream. You were used to being woken in the night when he was suffering recurring and terrifying nightmares but knew this one wasn’t as bad as any of them which was why you hadn’t attempted to wake him from it. “Mostly telling someone ‘stop, don’t do it’ there was a lot of calling them a ‘bastard’ too. So what was the mission?”
“Not exactly a mission…more a torture than anything.” Sabo explained as he slumped down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his head under your chin while you held him close and played with his hair, your usual positions for when Sabo had a bad dream. Sabo let his eyes drift closed under your practiced and soothing touch. Then when he’d relaxed and not as shaken of what he’d seen in his sleep he was ready to talk about it. “I dreamt you married my brother.”
“Luffy?” You asked in confusion, thrown enough to stop your motions. Sabo let out a small laugh.
“No! Sterry, the adopted stepbrother.” He clarified, his smile lessening slightly. “Remember I told you about him and my birth family?”
“Yeah…” You nodded gently, unable to hide the frown from your face. When Sabo told you of the past he’d finally remembered you experienced the sharp contrast in seeing his happiness in recounting his adventures with Ace and Luffy and then the darker expression that took over him when he eventually opened up about his parents, not that they deserved to be called that. You could only reason that meeting up with Luffy and sharing stories about their childhood with you and the others made him more thoughtful on his past than he’d realised. Gently you started to play with Sabo’s hair again, needing to ease his worries. “So looks like I don’t need to worry about being stolen away to marry some creep then. From the way you leapt off the bed I can tell I’m in safe hands.”
“You’re always in good hands with me.” Sabo grinned, tightening his hold around you a little for emphasis making you laugh softly. “Not that it’s anything to worry about but if some creep did try to steal you away they wouldn’t get you near the altar before I stopped them.”
“My hero,” you swooned before pressing a kiss against his head and stifling a short yawn. Now that Sabo was calmed, you were able to settle back and get back to sleep. As you were falling back over you let out a sleepy laugh. “I should offer you my hand in marriage as a reward.”
Sabo perked up at the suggestion, the gears in his mind slowly turning at the idea. It wasn’t like you and Sabo hadn’t discussed getting married before, you were both committed to each other with just as much devotion you offered the Revolutionary Army. Plus Luffy’s ship was still docked at the island and Captains could marry people. What better time than to make newer, happier memories like this?
LUCCI
For anyone that knew him, they would claim Lucci was hard to render shaken or put into a state of disbelief. For all his immense and diligent training he was a master over his emotions. Yes, sometimes people mistook that as believing he was incapable of showing any true emotion the truth of the matter was he suppressed any that would be seen as a possible risk to the current mission he was on. And he always ensured his missions were completed successfully with as little issues as possible. It didn’t matter if he was to be gone for years, like he’d done when he was stuck on Water 7, the time away from his home on the Cipher Pol base was inconsequential as long he achieved the task set.
When he returned from such a lengthy mission, he was greeted by the usual salutes and chorused welcomes and congratulations. He stared blankly ahead, ignoring how the practically faceless and insignificant lower ranked agents stared at him in equal parts awe and fear, as it should be. As he entered the base he slowed his steps, glancing around curiously to the sight of extra decorations adoring the place. His nose wrinkled at the heightened smell of flowers practically masking all other scents and the distant sound of excited talking. “Well look what the cat dragged in!”
“Shut it, mutt.” Lucci turned his head to glare over his shoulder as Jabra strutted towards him, smug grin plastered over his face. He was not who he wanted to see on his arrival. “What’s the meaning for all this?”
“Oh you mean you didn’t hear?” Jabra’s grin spread wider, failing to hold back his own laughter. “Well come on and see for yourself.”
“What nonsense are you talking about now??” Lucci asked, his mood souring as he followed Jabra out of the room and towards where the talking was coming from. Stepping into the large banquet hall Lucci stopped to see the many seats filled with spectators, none of them mattering. The only thing that immediately stole his attention was you standing at the other end of the room, your arms around Kaku as you both shared a kiss to the sound of applause.
“Guess you were away too long to bother sending an invite to.” Jabra cackled from beside him, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. “At least you got here before they cut the cake though.”
Lucci ignored Jabra’s echoing laughter, his sharp gaze only on you as you finally looked his way. You broke out into an excited smile and hurried towards him.
You’d been sleeping peacefully with your back to Lucci, blissfully unaware of what had been going through his subconscious. You stirred the smallest amount when you felt his hand that had been loosely settled on your leg moved to curl around your waist and sharply pull you back so you were held tightly and possessively against his chest, his head buried into the crook of your neck. With a small, questioning hum you began to wake. “Lucci?”
He didn’t twitch and from the new position you could feel his steady breath against your skin, telling you he was sleeping deeply. You could also tell whatever it was he was dreaming it wasn’t by any means peaceful. You thought you caught the muttered growl of ‘mutt’ and assumed it was simply a dream about the man he reluctantly had to work with and relaxed with the intent to fall back to sleep but that was stopped once more when Lucci’s already iron grip around you tightened and a long growl built in his chest. With more effort that you thought you’d have to exert so late at night, you managed to turn in the man’s hold so you were facing him and reached up and rubbed just behind his ear. “Wake up Lucci.”
Lucci’s eyes snapped open and he frowned heavily. While his mind began to separate what had obviously been a dream he stared down at you, his expression giving nothing away. He knew dreams were nothing to read too much into, for the most part they were nothing, barely remembered when he woke up. But this, what he’d just seen held onto his mind in a way similar to how he continued to hold you now. His life always prioritised the mission and wishes of the organisation he served, emotional attachments were secondary. When you both originally started this, it was purely physical, something to ease tension and satisfy needs, nothing more. Lucci had respected you as a skilled agent, he wouldn’t have looked your way if you hadn’t been. But he knew whatever this was hadn’t been ‘just physical’ for a very long time. You hadn’t pushed him on any aspect of it or questioned what the two of you were to each other. The times he had been away for long missions, he would by lying if he said you hadn’t crossed his mind or said you weren’t the first person he sought out on his return. When he finally shook the ridiculous image of you married to and kissing Kaku free from his mind, Lucci, took your wrist to stop your movements and released it just as quickly.
“Better?” You asked settling your hand against the bedsheets.
“Yes, go back to sleep.” Lucci nodded readjusting you in his arms so you were still firmly in his hold but not so tight that it would cause you any pain. “You have a mission to prep for.”
“The undercover one with Kaku?” You asked with a yawn, noticing Lucci’s fingers flex slightly as he closed his eyes. “That’s not until next week.”
“There was a change of plan, you’re off that mission. Kaku can manage with someone else.”
“So what’s the new one?”
“You’ll be coming with me. I’ll give you the details in the morning.” Lucci explained and you stared at him as a slow smile curved your lips. For as guarded and aloof as Lucci seemed you were able to read into his limited words and actions a lot better than others. Feeling your stare, Lucci’s eyes opened to stare at you hard. “What?”
“You aren’t taking me off that mission because you didn’t like the idea of me and Kaku having to pretend to be a married couple did you?” Lucci clicked his tongue and slid his eyes closed once more while pulling you against him. His silence all the answer you needed but you couldn’t help but lean in to press a tender kiss against his lips. While Lucci was never the one to openly voice his feelings, you knew he would always find a way to show it.
You blink awake slowly.
Sunlight filters through the blinds. Everything’s quiet. Warm. Heavy.
There’s an arm around your waist.
You pause. Brain booting up like an old computer.
And then—
Zoro shifts behind you.
“…You’re awake,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep.
You stiffen. “I—did I sleep here…? With you??”
“You came to say goodnight.”
“I meant to leave after that!”
“Mm. Didn’t.”
You turn. He’s squinting at you, hair a mess, face ten times too handsome for 7 a.m.
You sit up in horror. “Oh my god I SLEPT IN YOUR BED—”
He grabs your wrist. Pulls you back down.
“Shut up. You snored on my chest for six hours, you don’t get to freak out now.”
You bury your face in the blanket. “I’m gonna die.”
He just smirks, eyes still half-lidded.
“Not before breakfast. Now come back. You’re warm.”
SANJI
You wake up surrounded by soft sheets, soft light, and something that smells suspiciously like tea and cologne.
Then—
An arm tightens around your waist.
You freeze. Blink. Tilt your head back.
And there he is.
Sanji. Shirtless. Hair fluffy. One eye still closed.
“Mm… good morning, sleeping beauty…”
Your whole soul leaves your body.
“Sanji—what am I doing here—”
He chuckles. Pulls you closer. “You wandered in, said goodnight, curled up like a kitten, and passed out in my arms.”
“I didn’t mean to—!”
“You made little dream noises.”
“SANJI.”
He kisses your forehead. “I was honored. You can stay anytime.”
You cover your face. He grins.
“I even made breakfast.”
“I can’t face the crew like this—”
“Then don’t. Stay. Sleep. With me. Forever.”
He tucks the blanket around you again.
You are officially doomed. And cozy.
SMOKER
The first thing you feel is the warmth. Heavy. Secure.
The second is the smell. Tobacco. Leather. Him.
You open your eyes and realize—
You’re not in your bed.
You’re on his couch. Wrapped in a blanket the size of a small nation. Your head’s on a pillow that definitely smells like his shampoo.
You sit up with a gasp. “Oh my god—”
“Morning.”
You turn. Smoker’s sitting at his desk, coffee in hand, watching you like it’s nothing. Like this is normal.
“You—you let me fall asleep here?”
“You were already out before I could say anything,” he grunts. “Didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
You go bright red. “I was just trying to say goodnight—”
“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “You said that. Then curled up like a cat and snored for six hours.”
You groan. “Shit. Commander, I—I’m sorry—”
He walks over. Sets the coffee down in front of you.
“Don’t be,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “You looked… peaceful.”
You blink. He clears his throat. Avoids eye contact.
“I could get used to the sight.”
KUZAN
You wake up confused. But warm. So warm, for once.
Blankets. Pillows. A sleepy scent of mint and something earthy.
You stretch. Blink. Sit up slowly—
And realize you're not in your room.
You're on his futon.
You turn your head. He's still lying there beside you, arm draped over his eyes, hair a soft mess.
“...Kuzan?” you whisper.
He peeks one eye open. Blinks at you. Then sighs.
“Morning. You drooled on me.”
You recoil. “I—I what—?!”
He chuckles. “It’s fine. You looked cute doing it.”
Your soul exits your body.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep here—!”
“You came in to say goodnight, remember? Sat down. Next thing I know you’re curled up on my shoulder.”
You cover your face in embarrassment. You did not mean to do that.
He reaches out lazily. Tugs you back down.
“Don’t overthink it. Just stay. You’re soft.”
You blink up at him. He’s smiling. Barely. Sleepily. Honestly.
“Well?” he smiles. “You getting back in or not?”
KIDD
You blink awake to soft light leaking through the workshop curtains.
You stretch—
And freeze.
There’s a hand on your waist.
You turn your head—
Kidd. Shirtless. Asleep. Hair a mess. Eyebrows furrowed even in slumber.
You’re in his bed.
“OH what the fuck—” you whisper-squeak.
He stirs. Grunts. Eyes half-open.
“You’re loud,” he rasps.
“Why am I in your BED—!”
He yawns. “You came in to say goodnight. I told you to sit. Then you… did that thing where your head flops and you were out.”
You cover your face. “Shit. I’m so sorry—”
He grabs your wrist. Tugs you back down.
“Shut up. It was nice.”
Then—
“…But if you steal the covers again, I'm kicking you off.”
You peek up at him. Ignore the deflection.
“Nice?”
He shrugs, eyes already shutting again. “Didn’t think I’d like having someone stay.”
A pause.
“Turns out I do. If it’s you.”
You may never recover from Soft-Kidd hours.
BECKMAN
You wake to silence. Soft light. A blanket tucked around your shoulders.
You stretch. Blink. Turn your head—
And see him.
Beckman. Fully dressed. Reading beside you in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You jolt. “Oh my god—!”
He glances over. Smiles. “Morning.”
“Beck, I didn’t mean to—”
“You did,” he says. Calm. “You came in half-asleep, mumbled ‘goodnight,’ curled up on top of the covers, and passed out.”
You cover your face. “I’m so dumb.”
He chuckles. Reaches out. Lowers your hands.
“No, you’re not.”
His eyes are soft. Too soft. “It was nice having you here.”
You blink. “Really?”
He nods. “You’re cute when you sleep. Snore a little. Dream a lot.”
You groan. He laughs.
Then says—casual, but loaded:
“You can stay tonight too, y’know. No pressure. Just… if you want.”
You absolutely want.
DOFLAMINGO
The first thing you feel is silk.
Too soft. Too warm. Too not your bed.
You blink. The light is soft. The room unfamiliar in that expensive, intimidating kind of way.
And then—
A low chuckle.
“Finally awake, mi amor?”
You sit up—blinking, confused—
And freeze.
Wait, you’re in his bed.
DOFFY’S.
“HOLY SHIT—”
He’s lounging beside you, shirtless, sunglasses off, grin in full smug bloom.
“You came in last night looking like a sleepy kitten,” he purrs. “Said something about forgetting to say goodnight, then faceplanted onto my bed and refused to leave.”
You cover your face. He pries your hands away and leans in.
“Oh, no. Don’t play that card now, sweetheart. Not with what you did last night.”
“Me?”
“You. First person to greet the morning in my bed without having screamed my name all night long. I’m in grief. Agony, even.”
You glare at him. Cheeks pink. “Perv.”
He laughs. But it sounds warm. Full.
Happy, even.
“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”
But as he kisses your neck and pulls you closer...
You think it might be the best.
LUCCI
You wake to stillness. A quiet room. Clean sheets. Soft light.
And a heavy weight draped over your waist.
You blink.
Then slowly look over.
Lucci. Asleep. Close.
Hella close.
You are in his bed. Next to him.
Oh.
He stirs like he senses something. Eyes open. Sharp.
But the second they land on you, they soften. Just a little.
“You’re awake.”
You sit up fast. “Lucci, uh, I—why am I—”
“You came to say goodnight. Then fell asleep mid-sentence.”
“H-Here? And you let me?!”
He sits up, slow. Unbothered. Bare chest. Sheets low on his hips.
“You were cute.”
You freeze. “...What?”
He meets your eyes. No hesitation.
“You were warm. And quiet. I liked it.”
Then adds—like it means nothing.
“You should do it again.”
You blink. “Stay?”
He nods. “Every night, if you want.”
You might have stopped breathing.
He definitely noticed.
He walks into his office late—tired, annoyed, and already pulling off his rings.
He pauses.
There’s a fresh mug of coffee waiting on his desk. His favorite blend. Exactly how he likes it. Alongside a box of his favorite cigars.
And a neatly folded note in your handwriting:
“Don’t forget to breathe today.”
He stares at it.
Silent.
Then he sits.
Wraps one hand around the mug, rests his other elbow on the desk—forehead against his hook.
After a long breath:
“…She’ll ruin me like this.”
Later, he passes you in the hallway. Pauses beside you. Doesn’t look directly at you. Just mutters:
“You’re too good to me.”
And then? He walks away.
But his hand brushes yours as he goes. On purpose.
MIHAWK
You find him reading. Again. Posture stiff. A faint furrow in his brow.
You quietly set a plate beside him—fresh fruit, sliced the way he prefers. No words.
You turn to leave, but—
“Stay.”
You glance back.
He looks at the fruit. Then at you.
“You remember the details.”
A beat.
He lifts a slice slowly. Takes a bite. Looks out at the horizon like he’s not letting you see his expression.
“You’re too good to me.”
And under his breath?
“I wish I knew what to do with that.”
MARCO
You find him patching up someone else in the clinic. Again.
Exhausted. Shirt streaked with blood. Eyes too tired.
You wait till he’s done, then silently hand him a glass of water and a sandwich—both of which you’ve clearly made just for him.
He blinks.
“You didn’t have to…”
You nudge the glass toward him. No sass. No teasing. Just… quiet care.
He smiles. Soft. Blown away.
“You’re too good to me, y’know that, yoi?”
A pause.
“Gotta start being worth all that.”
But you already know he is.
ACE
He’s sitting alone on the deck after coming back from a mission, hiding the bruises he got protecting someone else.
You find him. Sit beside him.
And quietly pull out a small med kit.
He tries to protest—“I’m fine, really—”
But you start gently tending to the bruises anyway. You don’t scold. You don’t make a scene.
You just… take care of him.
He goes quiet. Watches you like he doesn’t understand why someone would want to.
“You’re too good to me…”
He whispers it. Like it hurts.
And when you finish and kiss his forehead?
He holds your wrist and says—
“Please don't leave.”
SHANKS
You find him alone. For once.
Sitting on the edge of the ship. Staring out at the sea. Shoulders a little too still.
You sit beside him. Hand him a small flask with his favorite rum—the one he always shares, but never gets for himself.
He takes it. Looks at you.
And smiles—but this one’s different.
“You’re too good to me, sweetheart.”
A pause.
“You keep this up, I might actually start believing I deserve it.”
He says it like a joke. But he doesn’t laugh.
LAW
You sneak into his medbay late at night. He’s fallen asleep at his desk—head on his arms, brow still furrowed in sleep.
You drape a blanket over him.
Tuck a small thermos of hot tea near his elbow.
As you turn to leave, you whisper:
“Slow down, Law. You’re not alone anymore.”
You think he’s asleep.
But as soon as the door clicks shut, he lifts his head. Looks at the blanket. The tea. The way you’d straightened his scattered notes.
And whispers, stunned—
“…Too good to me. Too fuckin’ good, god damn it.”
Then buries his face in his arm again. To hide his face. The ache. Everything.
CORAZON
You find him sitting in your room—just keeping you company, like he always does.
It’s chilly tonight. So you drape your cutest, softest, fluffiest blanket over his shoulders without a word.
He startles. Stares at you.
You wink. Go back to work.
He looks down at the blanket. Then closes it tighter around himself.
You hear scribbling. You glance over.
He passes you a note:
“You’re too good to me. Also, I’m never giving this back.”
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