One Piece Oneshots

{Iceberg x Reader} - Complaints

"Can't have Paulie accidentally strangling clients because they piss him off or Tilestone scaring them off with his yelling." Iceberg chuckled softly as he thought of all the times those things happened, his rare laugh warming the air between you. 

"True. It's a wonder we get anything done with this crew." 

"Hey now, this crew's the best on the Grand Line," you said, placing a hand on your hip. 

"We might be chaotic, but we're damn good at what we do." Your voice held a confident tone as you spoke highly of the people you worked with.

"That's a fact," Iceberg agreed, his smile lingering as he pushed off the stack of lumber. 

"And I wouldn't trade this crew—or you—for anything." The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten as your cheeks burned. Hearing the fact that he treasured you and everything you've done.

"Don't go getting sentimental on me, Icy " You said with a laugh, trying to brush off his compliment even though it meant a lot to you.

"It's the truth, no harm in admitting that," he said simply, his tone carrying a warmth that matched the sun overhead that only seemed to make your heart skip a beat.

The two of you passed a stack of freshly painted figureheads, their vibrant hues gleaming under the sun. Each carving told its own tale: a fierce lion with its jaws agape, a graceful mermaid with cascading hair, and a stoic warrior, his gaze piercing and resolute. The fine craftsmanship and careful brushstrokes spoke of the pride and dedication of the artisans at Galley-La. You glanced at Iceberg, his expression calm but thoughtful, as if he carried the weight of the entire shipyard on his shoulders. The sunlight slanted across his face, highlighting the faint lines of weariness etched into his skin—evidence of long nights spent planning, managing, and solving the endless problems that came with his position.

Yet, in moments like this, there was a stillness to him, a quiet peace that only seemed to surface during these strolls. These walks, you knew, were his way of grounding himself, of stepping away from the relentless tide of responsibility and reconnecting with the soul of Galley-La. His gaze lingered briefly on the bustling dockworkers, his lips curving in a subtle smile at their easy camaraderie. And, you suspected, he liked hearing your stories. They weren't just distractions; they were reminders of why all this work mattered—the people, the humor, the bonds that made Galley-La more than a business. Your words, woven with vivid descriptions and wry humor, gave him a brief escape, a moment of levity in his otherwise demanding day.

As you both approached the loading dock, the atmosphere shifted like a sudden change in the wind before a storm. The usual hum of activity seemed to falter, replaced by the low, grumbling voices of a group of pirates loitering near a recently repaired galleon. Their mismatched outfits and menacing scowls were as telling as the black flag furled at the mast of their ship. The burly captain, a towering figure with a jagged scar slashing across his cheek and eye with a voice as rough as gravel, barked complaints at one of your crew mates as he stood there with an aggravated look upon his face. His tone dripped with disdain, each word landing like a lash, while his crew loomed behind him, their hands resting on weapons or crossed defiantly over their chests.

When his eyes landed on you, recognition flickered in his expression, quickly curdling into a sneer that deepened the hard lines of his face. He took a step forward, his boots thudding against the wooden dock, and pointed a thick, calloused finger in your direction. 

"So, you're the one who worked on my ship, huh?" he growled, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. 

"Figures. Look at you—probably don't even know which end of a hammer to use." The crew member he'd been berating glanced at you, their eyes full of unspoken frustration, but wisely kept quiet since he was merely just a new worker. The ones with more experiences usually dealt with clients like this and that included yourself. The other pirates chuckled darkly, feeding off their captain's hostility. The air was heavy with tension, each second stretching longer than the last. Iceberg's presence beside you was a quiet reassurance, but even he could feel the thin veneer of civility cracking under the pirates' antagonism.