The thief. Sir Crocodile x male reader x Luffy

When Ace wanted to marry a table

"So Ace," you said, already giggling, "How exactly did that go with you and the table?" The freckled male's head lit up with a bright red as he had prayed you had forgotten about the incident. Though he remembered that night clear as day.

Back when you still were Sir Crocodiles little toy, you were allowed to bring a couple of friends into the club. Ace remembered how jealous the people in line got when all of you skipped right into the building. He got in behind you and Luffy. Loud music boomed through the entire room, deafening at first, but soon enjoyable. He still knows Nami liked it as she was lost between the hoards of dancing people mere seconds later. Not in the mood for dancing, he followed you and the others to a big, white table, illuminated over neon purple lights. It looked like it came from another dimension. You were told that it was a table usually reserved for Crocodiles clients, but yours for the night.

Ace didn't know why, but he was so excited, he nearly pissed his pants when he saw the touchscreen on the table's surface.

"What do you mean I can just order a drink from here?" He asked right after you explained how it worked. One eyebrow raised, the other lowered and half your lip was ready to say something but the other wasn't, you looked at him the same way a confused teacher would. Marco patted his overly excited brother's head whilst Zoro repeated what you'd said... just his way: "You don't have to carry your ass to the bar. Pick your drink and someone will bring it to you."

The green haired looked at you, so you gave him a quick thumbs up. Meanwhile Ace looked over the list of drinks. He initially wanted to dance and meet people, but now he only wanted to stay at the magic table. His ass surely wouldn't leave that leather chair tonight.

The whole group ordered their drinks on the screen. The menu was build up by pictures of every drink one could order, and there were a lot of them. Ace eyes widened upon seeing all the possibilities.

He already pushed his responsibility of looking after Luffy aside. In front of him were multi-colored, alcoholic drinks that had little umbrellas in them, screaming his name from the inside of a magic table. Someone would have to drag him out of the club. At the time Zoro had begun his journey to find Atlantis or, as he called it, the toilets, he wasn't able to see the pictures anymore. Drink after Drink he stayed at the table. Nami had long vanished alongside an older man, you were off searching for Luffy and Ace decided it would be a good idea to rest his forehead on top the cold table. Finally, too drunk to order any more, he sighed happily.

"I love this table," he murmured, not knowing that he wasn't alone, "that's the best table. The magic table to end all magic tables." Suddenly he gasped, facing the white surface, "I can't leave you, baby." Caressing it he mumbled, "I'll get you out of here, you won't have to work in this club anymore."

"Uh, Ace?" Marco asked, tilting his head at his little brother.

"Shush turkey, I'm talking to my girlfriend."

"Ace, that's a table."

"She's more than that," Marco almost peed himself when he saw the tears in Ace's eyes, "she's much more Marco, don't talk about her like that."

"I didn't catch any of that but, sure." Marco shrugged, closing in on his shitfaced brother, "(M/N) said we'll leave soon, come here."

"Nu," he protested, clinging to the table, "I can't just leave her Marco, I love her."

"It's furniture..."

"Shut up," Ace ordered, raising his finger, "both of you," he added. Confused Marco looked around, he was alone.

"I'll marry her and then she won't have to work here anymore." He breathed, still softly circling the table's surface.

"A table? You want to marry a table?"

"She's my girlfriend."

"She's a table... t. a. b. l. e. Furniture, you know?"

"You just jealous, turkey."

"I swear to god we are leaving Ace, come on."

"I dun wanna leave her," he cried out, only to get thrown over Marcos' shoulder.

"Nu, nu, Baby. I'll come back, I promise, I'll come back and marry you."

"No one understands what you're talking about."

"I think I'm gonna puke."

"Don't you-" he couldn't even finish his sentence before his shirt got puked on, "You know what? I hope (M/N) runs you over with his bike you shitfaced asshole."

Ace only sniffled, starring at the table that faded into the distance.

"Babe," he muttered.

"Shut up already," Marco ordered, so he stayed silent, for about five minutes until he puked in the car.

The next morning he remembered the table, the drinks, the puking. He didn't dare to leave his room. Though he heard everyone laughing downstairs whenever Marco told the story of how his brother wanted to free a table from its workplace.