#Crocodile fluff

[arkaiveofurown]

he was harsh to you

Pairings: Crocodile x Reader, Ace x Reader, Law x Reader, Mihawk x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000 - 2,000 words each

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

my masterlist here ♡

----

Crocodile

The tension between you and Crocodile had been building for days. He had been aloof, and his sharp, biting remarks were starting to wear on you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle his bluntness—hell, you were used to it by now—but today, it felt different. It felt personal.

You had just come from a successful mission for the Cross Guild, but the celebration was overshadowed by Crocodile’s attitude. You were standing near the map room, reviewing your next move, when he stormed in with that familiar scowl on his face.

“Don’t you have something better to do than stand around wasting time?” Crocodile snapped, his tone cold and dismissive. “I don’t need a babysitter. Get your act together.”

You felt your blood boil at his words. “Excuse me?” you shot back, unable to hide the irritation in your voice. “I’m doing my job just fine, thank you very much. Maybe you should stop trying to belittle everyone around you.”

Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he stepped closer. “Belittle? I’m trying to get through to you. You’re so damn distracted, it’s pathetic. You’re wasting your potential.”

“Wasting my potential?” You clenched your fists, holding back the sting of his words. “How about you stop trying to micromanage everyone around here? I’m getting things done, but you just don’t want to see it, do you?”

“Getting things done?” Crocodile scoffed, walking over to the table and slamming his hand on the map. “You’re dragging your feet. We’ve got a Guild to build, and you’re too busy pretending everything’s fine. If you think this is going anywhere, you’re living in a fantasy.”

His words stung more than you cared to admit. “I’m not pretending anything. I’m doing exactly what needs to be done. But if you think I’m just here to be your damn soldier, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Crocodile’s eyes flashed with something darker. “Soldier? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re part of the team—if you can manage to act like it. But from what I’m seeing, you’re more of a liability than an asset.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, the anger bubbling up in your throat. “A liability? I’ve been working harder than anyone on this ship, and you can’t even see it. Maybe it’s easier for you to blame everyone else for your own failures.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low. “What failure? I’m not the one who’s failing here. It’s you, with all your whining, trying to act like this is a charity. This is a Guild, not a damn playground.”

You could feel the heat rising in your face, but you stood your ground. “You’re impossible. You always think you’re right and that the world revolves around you. Maybe you need to take a long look in the mirror and realize that you’re the one who’s out of line.”

Crocodile didn’t flinch. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You either get in line or get out of my way.”

That was the breaking point. You took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to lash out. “I’m done with this,” you said, your voice shaking with frustration. Without another word, you turned and stormed out of the room, the slam of the door echoing in your wake.

----

The silence in the ship’s quarters felt suffocating. Crocodile’s harsh words echoed in your mind, replaying over and over, and the weight of the argument was crushing. You hadn’t expected it to escalate like that, but there was no denying it now—you were hurt, and you couldn’t pretend otherwise.

You hadn’t bothered to leave your room, locked in your thoughts, lying on the bed with your back to the door. The sting of Crocodile’s words felt like a constant pressure on your chest. You’d been part of the Cross Guild for so long, fought alongside the others, but why did it feel like Crocodile just saw you as a tool? A tool that he could discard when it suited him.

You hated the feeling of weakness that crept in with the tears you’d been trying to hold back. But when it all became too much, they finally fell. Quietly at first, then in desperate, broken sobs.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to cry until you did.

Hours passed, and you thought you’d hear the sounds of Crocodile’s usual cold demeanor at your door. But it never came. No knock, no footsteps—nothing.

You sat up from your bed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Crocodile might not have said anything more, but his absence was almost worse. It felt like he didn’t care enough to even check if you were okay.

----

The next day, things were still quiet between you and Crocodile. He wasn’t avoiding you, but he wasn’t making any overt moves either. The silence felt heavy, like there was more left unsaid, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to approach him first.

It wasn’t until you were sitting alone in the ship’s main hall, watching the crew go about their usual duties, that you saw him again. He was standing near the door, scanning the room as though he was looking for something—or someone. His gaze fell on you, and for a moment, you thought about getting up and leaving.

But then, something unexpected happened.

He walked toward you, his steps deliberate, his usual air of command unmistakable. But there was no arrogance, no cold indifference. Instead, there was something almost… hesitant, as though he was unsure how to approach.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. Not demanding, but more… tentative.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Crocodile sat down beside you, but there was a clear distance between you two. Still, he didn’t break the silence. Instead, his eyes flickered to the floor and back to you, unsure of how to even start.

“I’ve been thinking,” Crocodile began, his voice unusually soft. “I don’t do ‘soft’ well. I never have. I push people away because it’s easier than getting close. But with you… I shouldn’t have done that.”

You stayed quiet, listening. This wasn’t the Crocodile you were used to, and it threw you off. But you could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I treated you like you were disposable. Like I could just push you aside because I don’t know how to handle emotions,” he continued, his words laced with the rare honesty he usually kept buried. “I’m not saying I can change overnight, but I… I can try. I can do better. For you.”

For a moment, the room felt too quiet, too heavy with the weight of his confession. You weren’t sure what to say, but you couldn’t deny the effort he was showing. It wasn’t just words. It was him trying—genuinely trying—to be someone better for you.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he added, his gaze meeting yours directly. “But if you’ll let me, I want to show you that I’m not just some heartless bastard.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. Crocodile wasn’t the type to offer grand gestures, but this... this was different.

He shifted in his seat, as if he was fighting the urge to stand up and walk away. His usual confidence was tempered by something more vulnerable, and it made the tension between you two feel palpable. Still, there was something unspoken in the air, something you both knew needed to be addressed.

After a moment, Crocodile pulled something from his pocket, a small, worn notebook. He placed it between you two with a rare hesitance, as though it was heavier than it appeared.

“I don’t usually carry things like this,” he started, his voice rough but not harsh. “But... I thought you might find it useful.” He tapped the notebook once. “It’s full of notes—things I’ve learned, strategies, things about our crew that could be useful. Not much, but it’s something I’ve kept for myself. Thought it might help you... since we’ve been working together.”

There was no flashy gesture, no grand promises—just this small act of vulnerability. Crocodile wasn’t one to share his notes or insights with just anyone, much less someone he had been pushing away. It was his way of showing he trusted you more than he had before.

You stared at it for a moment, processing what he’d done. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t over-the-top, but it was honest. It was him offering something personal, a piece of his world that he didn’t usually share.

“I know I’m not great with words,” Crocodile continued, looking away, his usual guarded expression back in place. “But I can do this. I’ll show you I’m not just some cold bastard.”

You let the silence stretch between you as you reached for the notebook, running your fingers over the pages. It was simple, but it meant something—he was trying. And that was enough for now.

"Thank you," you said softly, glancing up at him. "This is... more than I expected."

His eyes flickered to yours for a moment, something unreadable in them. "It's just a start," he muttered, standing up. "I’ll keep trying. But you’ve got to meet me halfway, too."

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief. It wasn’t perfect, and there were no sweeping gestures, but this... this felt real. And that was a good place to begin.

---

Ace

The sun was setting on the horizon, casting golden hues across the ship. You and the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates were enjoying a rare moment of calm as the ship slowly drifted across the sea. The deck was lively with the crew, but you found yourself chatting with Thatch, who was always kind and welcoming.

The conversation was lighthearted, the two of you laughing over some silly story. But through the corner of your eye, you noticed Ace’s figure standing by the mast. His eyes were fixed on you and Thatch. You didn’t think much of it, assuming Ace was just being his usual quiet self. But then, you saw his expression—dark, his jaw clenched, fists tightly gripping the railing. His eyes narrowed as he watched you, and it felt like a cold gust had suddenly blown through the deck.

Before you could finish your conversation with Thatch, Ace stormed over. You barely registered his approach before he grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from Thatch.

“Hey! What the hell, Ace? What’s going on?” you said, trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

“Don’t hey me,” Ace snapped, his voice low and seething. He was angry, and it was obvious. “What the hell was that about?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confused. You looked back toward Thatch, who was watching the exchange, a slight frown on his face.

“Don’t play dumb,” Ace growled. “You’ve been all over Thatch today. Laughing, touching him, flirting like it’s some fucking game. What, am I not enough for you?”

Your heart dropped at his words. “Flirting? Ace, we were just talking. It’s nothing like that. You’re making it into something it’s not.”

“Really?” Ace scoffed, his eyes darkening. “Don’t act like I’m blind. I’ve been watching you. The way you’re acting with him, it’s obvious. You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t see it?”

You felt the heat rise in your chest. “Are you seriously accusing me of something right now? You’ve known Thatch for years, and now you’re acting like this over nothing?”

Ace’s grip tightened on your wrist, his face flushed with anger. “Nothing? You think this is nothing? You think I’m stupid? You’ve been laughing with him, leaning into him, all damn day! It’s like I’m invisible to you when he’s around!”

“Ace, calm down!” you snapped, pulling your arm from his grip. “You’re overreacting. This isn’t about Thatch! I’m not doing anything wrong!”

Ace stepped closer, his voice growing colder. “Don’t tell me to calm down. You don’t get it, do you? I’m standing here, and I’m watching you smile at him, touch him, like I don’t fucking matter. And what the hell am I supposed to think?”

You couldn’t believe it. “You’re acting insane. You know I love you, right? You’re my partner. But you can’t just jump to conclusions like this—this isn’t jealousy, this is possessiveness. It’s not fair to me.”

“I don’t give a damn what you call it,” Ace sneered, crossing his arms. “It’s not just a little joke anymore. It’s like you’re fucking ignoring me every time he shows up, and I’m tired of it.”

You clenched your fists, feeling your frustration boil over. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re the one I want. Not him, not anyone else. I’m not some fucking flirt, I don’t need your jealousy getting in the way of everything. You’re acting like a child.”

“A child?” Ace barked out a laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “Look at you. You’re so fucking perfect with everyone else. But when it comes to me, I’m the one left questioning if I even matter to you.”

“Ace, you’re being ridiculous!” you yelled, your anger flaring. “This isn’t how you should be acting. You’re pushing me away with this shit!”

“I don’t care if you think I’m ridiculous!” Ace shot back, his face turning red with fury. “I can’t fucking help it. It just hurts to see you giving attention to someone else when you’re supposed to be mine. What am I supposed to do with that? Just ignore it like you’re not doing anything wrong?”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you couldn’t even find a response. You stared at him in disbelief. The person you knew, the Ace you loved, wouldn’t talk to you like this. He wouldn’t accuse you, wouldn’t twist everything into something ugly. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.

Ace ran a hand through his hair, his expression shifting from anger to frustration, but his tone was still harsh. “I’m just saying what I feel, alright? Maybe I should just stop caring. Maybe I should just let you do whatever the hell you want without giving a damn.”

You felt a sting in your heart at that, but you didn’t let him see it. “Fine. If that’s how you want to be, then go ahead. Push me away. Make me feel like I don’t matter. Do what you need to do.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you!” Ace snapped, his voice getting louder. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m not enough for you! Like you don’t need me anymore!”

“Ace, stop acting like I’m the one who’s wrong here,” you said, stepping back from him. “This is about you—your insecurities. You need to figure this shit out before you start blaming me.”

“I don’t need your lectures right now,” Ace spat, his eyes wild with frustration. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m the one with a problem. You’re the one making me feel like this!”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the tension between you two, thick as smoke. You didn’t know what to say anymore. His words hurt more than anything, and you could feel the emotional distance growing between you.

“Ace,” you began, your voice quieter now, though still edged with anger. “I’m not going to keep fighting with you like this. If you want to think that I’m the problem here, then fine. Do whatever you want. But I won’t be dragged down by your jealousy. I won’t.”

You turned to walk away, but Ace’s harsh voice stopped you. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m trying to make sense of this! Don’t pretend like you’re innocent in all of this!”

You didn’t stop. You kept walking, not giving him another glance. If he couldn’t see how much you loved him, if he couldn’t get over his own jealousy, there was nothing more you could say.

And in that moment, the distance between you and Ace felt wider than it ever had.

----

The moment Ace walked away, everything felt cold. You didn’t know how long you stood there, just staring at the spot where he had left you. Your hand was still aching from his grip, but it was the sting in your chest that hurt more. He didn’t trust you, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

You didn’t want to cry, but the tears started anyway. It wasn’t just that he’d been angry—it was the way he’d accused you, made you feel like you weren’t good enough for him. His words burned like fire in your mind, and they refused to go away. You rubbed your eyes furiously, wishing it would stop, but it didn’t.

You made your way below deck, avoiding anyone’s eyes. But even in the silence, the weight of Ace’s accusations pressed against your chest.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor interrupted your thoughts, but you didn’t look up.

“Ace…” you whispered, voice barely audible, as you heard him stand in front of you. His figure towered over you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

He stood there for a long moment before letting out a long sigh.

“I messed up.” His voice was quieter now, filled with regret.

You didn’t answer right away, the hurt still raw. He continued, as if to reassure you.

“I know I was harsh,” he said softly. “I don’t know why I reacted like that. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

You finally looked up, his face full of guilt. It wasn’t the same anger you had seen earlier, but it didn’t make it better.

“Ace, I don’t deserve that,” you said, your voice shaking. “You’ve been treating me like… like I’m the one doing something wrong. You don’t trust me.”

“I know,” Ace muttered. “I was jealous, and it made me stupid. I didn’t think. I just… acted.”

“You can’t just accuse me like that, Ace. I thought you knew me better than anyone.”

“I do,” he said quickly, kneeling in front of you. His voice cracked slightly. “I do know you. And I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why I overreacted like that. It’s just…” He paused, staring down at the floor, lost in thought. “I get scared sometimes, you know? That you’ll leave me. Or that I’m not good enough.”

His words were quieter now, as if speaking them made the weight of them hit him too.

You swallowed hard, still trying to hold yourself together. “It’s not about you not being good enough, Ace. But you made me feel like I was the problem.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I promise. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

He reached out then, carefully pulling you into a hug. His arms were warm around you, and despite everything, it felt like home.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Ace whispered against your ear. “Just... please don’t leave me.”

----

Later that evening, Ace approached you once again. He wasn’t going to let this slide with just words. This time, he was determined to show you how much you meant to him.

He found you on the deck, staring out at the sea. The sunset had painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. He hesitated for a moment, but then walked up to you, standing still for a few seconds before quietly sitting beside you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how I’ve treated you,” Ace started, his voice calm but serious. He wasn’t going to let this be a quick fix. He had to prove he was serious. “I was an idiot before.”

You didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t pull away either, so he took that as his sign to continue.

“You deserve better than me just saying ‘sorry,’” Ace continued, looking at you with those soft, apologetic eyes. “I want to show you, not just tell you.”

Without waiting for a response, Ace stood up and reached into his jacket, pulling out something small wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a beautiful hand-carved wooden pendant—one shaped like a flame, a piece of his own soul carved into it. He placed it in your hand, his palm warm against yours.

“I made this for you,” Ace explained, his voice low. “It’s not much, but it’s a reminder. Every time you look at it, I want you to remember that I’m here. I’m trying to be better. For you.”

You stared at the pendant, surprised that Ace had gone this far. He wasn’t known for his sentimental side, and seeing him take the time to make something so personal was a first.

But that wasn’t all.

Ace lowered himself to one knee, taking your hands in his, his usual cocky grin gone, replaced by something deeper. “I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m far from it. But I’m gonna fight for you, every damn day, if it means showing you that you’re mine and that I don’t take you for granted.”

His eyes held sincerity, not just for a moment but for what felt like eternity. He wasn’t asking for immediate forgiveness; he was showing you that he understood the weight of what he’d done, and he was willing to carry that burden.

“I’ll be better. I’ll prove it to you, one step at a time,” Ace added, squeezing your hands gently. “I’m not gonna run from it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You felt the weight of his words settle between you, but it was the actions—the carving, the kneeling, the rawness of his apology—that made the difference.

And in that moment, something shifted. His effort wasn’t just in the words, but in the way he had approached everything differently. The care, the vulnerability, the openness—it was something you hadn’t seen from Ace in this way before.

“Thank you,” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze.

Ace’s face softened, and he pulled you into his arms gently. “I’ll never stop showing you, okay? I’ll never stop trying.”

You could feel the warmth of his embrace, but it was different now—sincere, unwavering, and full of effort. He wasn’t perfect, but this was the Ace you had always known, the one who, when he cared, gave everything he had.

“I know you won’t,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, knowing that even in his flaws, Ace’s heart was real and his effort was exactly what you needed.

----

Law

You were in the medical bay, carefully organizing the supplies, running through the routine tasks that kept you busy and, for the moment, kept your mind off the chaos of being aboard the Polar Tang. The quiet buzz of the ship’s engine was a subtle backdrop, almost soothing, but it wasn’t long before Law entered, his heavy boots echoing in the small space.

“Are you seriously doing this now?” His voice cut through the silence like a blade.

You turned, surprised to see him standing there with his arms crossed, a frustrated look on his face. "What? I’m just getting the medical supplies organized," you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. You had been with him long enough to know when something was off, and you could feel the tension in the air.

Law didn’t even spare a glance at the supplies. Instead, his eyes were fixed on you, sharp as ever. “It’s a waste of time. Don’t you have something more important to do?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What’s wrong with organizing the medical supplies? We can’t afford to let things get disorganized—especially if someone gets hurt. You should know that.”

His lips curled into a sneer. “This again? All you ever seem to do is waste time in here. We have real problems going on, and here you are, playing nursemaid.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you tried to stay calm. “I’m not just playing nursemaid, Law. This is a crucial part of the crew’s well-being. You might not see it, but when someone gets injured, we need everything in place.”

Law snorted, walking further into the room with no regard for the way his presence weighed on you. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been the one patching up the crew for years. I don’t need some reminder of how ‘important’ this is.”

His eyes glinted with something cold, making you feel like you were the one being irrational. “And yet, every time I come in here, I see you fiddling with bandages and vials like it’s some hobby. Maybe if you spent more time actually being useful, we wouldn’t be in half the mess we’re in now.”

You felt a rush of heat flood your face, your patience wearing thin. “Useful? I’m always useful, Law! You’ve never seen me just sit around and do nothing. I’ve been with you through thick and thin. What the hell is your problem today?”

Law didn’t flinch, his gaze cold and hard. “You’ve been off lately, not getting your hands dirty, avoiding the real work. Every time I turn around, you’re in here with your head buried in paperwork or fiddling with stuff that doesn’t matter. Are you even trying to help anymore, or is this your way of slacking off?”

You felt your pulse quicken, the sharpness of his words stinging like a slap across the face. “You know what? I don’t need this right now. I’m trying to do my best, but I guess that’s never good enough for you, huh?” You crossed your arms, pushing back the feeling of betrayal that crept up your throat.

“I don’t need your excuses,” Law replied, his voice colder than before. “You know what this crew is like, and you know what’s at stake. The sooner you stop pretending like this is all a game, the better.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I’m done here.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, stunned. You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

You sat alone in your room, staring at the wooden floorboards, your mind replaying the harsh words from earlier. His anger had caught you off guard, and it stung in ways you didn’t expect. You’d never seen him like that—so cold, so dismissive. What had you done wrong?

You hadn’t meant to upset him, not at all. You were only trying to help, to get through to him, but it seemed like he didn’t want to hear it. The more you thought about it, the more it hurt. Was this how he really saw you? Was everything you did so easily misinterpreted?

The tears came, slowly at first, then in a rush, spilling down your cheeks as the weight of the argument settled in. You wiped at your face, trying to push back the emotions, but it was useless. His words lingered in your chest, heavy and suffocating.

You felt small in that moment. Small and insignificant. He wasn’t the kind of man who wore his feelings openly, but you thought—no, you hoped—that maybe, just maybe, he’d let you in. Now, all you had were the fragments of a conversation that had broken everything apart.

You stood up abruptly, wiping your eyes and trying to pull yourself together. There was no point in crying, not now. But the silence in the room felt like a weight you couldn’t escape, and your heart ached in a way it never had before.

----

The next morning, the air between you and Law was thick with silence. It felt like a weight neither of you wanted to lift, but both of you knew it needed to be addressed.

You walked down the corridor of the ship, your mind replaying everything that had happened last night. His words, his cold tone, and how they made you feel—like an afterthought, like your feelings didn’t matter. You needed to shake it off, but it lingered.

As you neared the deck, you saw Law standing near the railing, staring out at the horizon. His usual composure was gone. There was something about the way he stood there—quiet, almost brooding—that made your chest tighten.

You stopped a few paces away, unsure whether you should approach or just walk by. But you didn't want this hanging over you any longer. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way toward him.

Law didn’t acknowledge you at first. His gaze remained on the horizon, but there was a noticeable shift in the air as you got closer.

“You were right to be angry last night,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. The words caught you off guard.

You blinked, surprised by his bluntness. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled slowly, his hands gripping the railing a little tighter. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was out of line. I made you feel like your feelings didn’t matter, and I… I don’t want to make you feel that way again.”

There was no excuse, no deflection. He didn’t try to rationalize it. The rawness of his admission made something in your chest loosen.

“You fucked up,” you said, voice low but steady. “It wasn’t just about the words, it’s about how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t… important to you.”

“I know,” Law replied quietly, his voice carrying more regret than you had ever heard. “And I don’t want you to feel like that, not ever. I don’t want to make excuses… but I’ve been so caught up in my own shit that I couldn’t see what I was doing to you.”

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. His words were hard to process, but there was something in them that felt different—something that wasn’t typical of Law.

He met your gaze, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waves. “I won’t pretend I know how to do this right, but I will try. And I’ll show you through my actions, not just words.”

You hesitated, still feeling the weight of everything. “Actions? Like what?”

Law's gaze softened, and he stepped away from the railing, facing you fully. “Tonight… let’s take a break from the ship. No work. Just us. We can go somewhere quiet, somewhere we don’t have to worry about anything else. I’ll listen, I’ll be present. You deserve that, and I want to show you I can do better.”

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, the hesitation in your chest slowly melting away.

He didn’t need to explain it further; you could see the change in his expression, the way his eyes weren’t as guarded. The rawness of his apology spoke volumes, and his willingness to make an effort, to actually show you, made you feel something different—hope, maybe.

The night came, and as promised, Law took you somewhere away from the hustle of the ship. The moment felt intimate, unspoken, and just… peaceful. You didn’t have to say much; the quiet between you two now felt like understanding, not tension. No grand gestures. Just time spent together, away from the chaos, showing each other what words sometimes couldn’t express.

----

Mihawk

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light across the castle grounds as the night stretched on. You stood near the balcony, overlooking the vast, quiet expanse of Kuraigana Island, trying to ease the tension that had been building between you and Mihawk for days. You didn’t understand it. He had always been quiet, always withdrawn, but this... this was different.

You had tried to speak to him earlier, but each time, he shut you down.

You walked up to him now, your voice breaking the silence of the night. “Mihawk,” you started softly, “we need to talk.”

Mihawk didn’t even look up from his sword. His posture was perfect, as always, but his eyes were distant. “I’m not in the mood for a conversation.”

Your stomach twisted. “You’ve been like this for days. I don’t even know what’s going on with you anymore.”

“I told you, nothing is wrong.” Mihawk’s tone was clipped, cold.

You stepped closer, frustration rising. “That’s not true. You’ve been shutting me out. You barely say anything when I’m around. It’s like you don’t even want me here.”

He sighed, setting the sword down on the stone table, the movement deliberate, almost as though he was choosing his next words with care. “I’ve been thinking.”

You crossed your arms, taking a step toward him. “About?”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze dark and contemplative. “About this whole… situation.” He gestured vaguely toward the castle, as if the whole life they led was part of the problem. “About us.”

You frowned, stepping closer still. “Us?”

He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed, but he kept going. “I’m not the kind of person who… needs company. I don’t need someone hovering over me, asking questions all the time.”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the sting of those words more than you cared to admit. You’d always known Mihawk was a man of few words, but hearing him say it like this hit harder than expected. “So, what? You’re saying I’m annoying?”

Mihawk’s gaze flickered briefly to your face before he looked away, uncomfortable. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, Mihawk?” you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Because that sure as hell sounds like you’re pushing me away.”

He stood up straighter, his eyes hardening for a moment, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—something raw, something almost vulnerable. “I’m not pushing you away,” he muttered, though the words sounded like they were meant more for himself than for you. “I just… don’t know how to let people in.”

You stepped back, a sharp breath leaving your lips. His words were a dagger in your chest. “You don’t have to be perfect, Mihawk. But this… this is just too much.”

His face hardened again, the vulnerability disappearing behind that familiar, cold mask. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy.”

You recoiled, shaking your head. “It’s not sympathy, Mihawk. I’m trying to be here for you, but you won’t let me. You keep pushing me away.”

There was a long silence between you, the kind that stretched out too long, too thick to ignore. Mihawk stared at the floor, visibly struggling with something you couldn’t quite understand.

Finally, he sighed, his voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I’m better off alone.”

Your heart shattered with those words. The finality of them, the coldness, the impossibility of it, made it harder to breathe. You turned quickly, not wanting him to see the sting of his words on your face.

Without another word, you walked off, your steps heavy and purposeful.

----

You didn’t wait for him to speak. You didn’t need to. Mihawk’s words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating everything between you. “Maybe I’m better off alone.”

You walked away before the sting of his words could settle, the sharp edge of them cutting through your chest. You didn’t care that he was still standing there, staring after you.

Your feet took you to your room in the castle, but even as you closed the door behind you, the world outside seemed to close in. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your hands, trying to push the burn behind your eyes. But it was useless. The tears came, slow at first, then faster. You pressed your palms against your face, desperate to stop them, but they kept coming.

Why? Why did he say that?

Your heart ached, and you couldn’t figure out what hurt more—the words themselves or the realization that he didn’t want you around. Mihawk. The man who had kept everyone at a distance. The one who had never once asked for anything. And you—you—had thought maybe you could be the one person to change that. But you were wrong.

----

Meanwhile, Mihawk sat in his study, his mind tangled in his own thoughts. He stared out at the night sky, trying to drown out the regret gnawing at him. What have I done?

He had never been good with people, never good with emotions. I didn’t mean it. She shouldn’t have to feel like that.

His words had come out too easily, without thinking. He had pushed you away when all you had done was show him care, patience... love.

He let out a frustrated breath, the weight of his mistake pressing harder on him. She doesn’t deserve this.

He rose from his seat, walking to the window, gripping the ledge with clenched fists. What now? He had always been alone, but the thought of you not being there, of losing what little connection he had with you, hurt more than he could admit. He wasn’t sure how to fix it. He never knew how to fix things.

She’s not going to forgive me easily, is she? He sighed, the silence in the air heavier than the night sky before him. I have to make this right... somehow.

----

The following morning, Mihawk woke with a single thought in mind. He couldn’t stand the tension, the silence between you two. The words from the night before echoed in his head, but now all he could focus on was the idea of making things right.

You were still distant, and he knew he couldn’t just speak his way out of it. He had to show you, to prove that he cared, even if he had never learned how to express it properly.

He moved to the kitchen of his castle early that morning, preparing a quiet breakfast, his hands methodical as he selected fresh ingredients from his garden. He was no stranger to cooking—having lived alone for so many years meant he’d developed the skill, even if he didn’t often share it with anyone. But this time, it wasn’t about the food. It was about showing you, in his own way, that he didn’t want to lose you.

Mihawk worked in silence, chopping vegetables and herbs, carefully preparing a dish that, though simple, was made with genuine effort. He took his time—something rare for him, but he knew it was necessary.

Once everything was ready, he set the table, the soft clink of porcelain and silverware the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

After a long moment, he took a breath, walked down the hall, and knocked on your door.

“Y/N,” Mihawk’s voice was quieter than usual, almost tentative. “I’ve made something. For you.”

You were sitting at the small desk by the window when you heard him. You turned slowly, your expression unreadable, and saw him standing there with a plate of food in his hands.

For a moment, there was silence between you, and Mihawk seemed to hesitate, unsure how to approach you. Then, finally, he stepped forward, setting the plate down on the small table beside you.

“I... I don’t know if this is what you wanted, but it’s what I could do,” Mihawk said, his voice steady but softer than usual. “I’m not good with words, but I wanted to show you I’m sorry.”

You stared at the plate for a moment, then back at him. You could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—his posture was less rigid, his expression more vulnerable than you’d ever seen before. You hadn’t expected this. He was never one to cook, and yet, here he was—offering you something he had prepared himself.

Tentatively, you reached for the fork, your fingers brushing against his as you took a bite. The taste was simple—fresh vegetables, some herbs—but it was good. Better than you expected, considering Mihawk's usual reliance on swords rather than culinary skills.

“It’s... really good,” you said softly, your gaze lifting to meet his.

Mihawk’s features softened, and for the first time, a small smile played at the corners of his lips. “I wanted to do something... something more than just apologizing. Words aren’t enough.”

You set the fork down, your hand resting on the table between you. “Mihawk,” you began, your voice barely a whisper, “I know you don’t always know how to show it. But you don’t have to shut me out. I just... I want to be here for you.”

Mihawk stood still for a moment, looking at you, taking in your words. It wasn’t easy for him to admit his feelings, but here, now, in the quiet of his castle, he finally let his guard down, even if just a little.

“I... don’t know how to do this,” he said slowly, his voice low. “But I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

You smiled, reaching out to touch his hand gently. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be honest with me. That’s all I want.”

For the first time, Mihawk let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as he sat down beside you. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“I will,” Mihawk said, his voice steady now. “I will try, Y/N. I’ll try harder.”

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of a simple meal and the weight of unspoken promises, you both knew that this was just the beginning—Mihawk, for the first time, letting someone in, and you, ready to stay by his side, no matter how hard the journey ahead might be.

[badgerbl00d]

first dates with the one piece boys

☆ characters: shanks, crocodile

☆ up next: taking an aphrodisiac w/ one piece boys ft. ace, kidd, and law

☆ summary: first dates with shanks and crocodile, crocodile is kind of as asshole but he's whipped so like it's cute..., suggestive content

☆ a/n: i'm back! i'll try to post something else this week but uni is kicking my ass :p requests are open!

☆ 18+, mdni

shanks:

“Ready, sweetheart?”

You blushed, nodding as you tried to ignore the cheers and whoops that erupted from the rest of the crew on board.

Shanks shot a look over his shoulder and you were rewarded with immediate silence. 

He placed a hand on the small of your back and gently guided you alongside him onto the island. 

“Use protection!” someone called out. Definitely Yasopp. 

“Ignore ‘em,” Shanks said. 

“So you don’t wanna use protection?”

Shanks shot you a look, surprised at your quip, “No! Yes! I mean- well, no… We don’t have to y’know- Whatever you want to do ....”

“Very smooth, Captain.” 

He laughed, bringing you toward him, and placed a rough kiss on the top of your head. 

“Ya make me nervous, what can I say?”

Your chest contracted at this confession. You felt an embarrassing amount of pride watching him rendered so uncharacteristically bashful from your words. 

You slipped your hand into his, giving him a soft squeeze, “Just cause this is a date doesn’t mean anything changes between us.”

“Well, we might kiss. And according to you we might fu-”

“Shanks.”

He laughed, louder this time, “Sorry, sorry. I think you’ll like where I’m taking you.” 

There was a cool breeze making its way over both of you, giving you temporary reprieve from the summertime warmth the city was buzzing with. Overgrown trees and flower bushes poured into the lamp-lit streets. 

You talked with each other, never a dull moment between the two of you, as you walked toward wherever Shanks was planning on taking you. 

By the time you stopped walking, you’d made it to a much more empty part of town.

Shanks pointed to a sign on the corner, ‘Happy Hour 8 p.m. - 10 p.m.’

“A bar,” you mused, playfully rolling your eyes at him, “How surprising.”

He smiled and tugged at the strap of your dress, “Tsk, tsk. So impatient.”

He led you into the dinghy building, the wooden door damaged from what you imagined was years of drunk patrons spilling their drinks over themselves and their surroundings.  The inside was dusty and it looked as though no one had used it for years. 

“Your usual, honey?” Shanks asked, approaching the bar. 

“Please.” 

He smiled at you, “Yes, captain.”

God, he was handsome.

You watched Shanks ordering your drinks from where you stood, looking at his face through the mirror behind the bartender. You pressed your thighs together as a familiar pulsing sensation began coursing through your lower half. You accepted long before this date that it was beyond your control- he was just so handsome. He ran a hand through his hair, winking at you in the mirror. You blew him a kiss and though you couldn’t be sure in the dim light a pale blush seemed to spread over his features. 

“One martini please, with three olives. And a Gin and Glamour.” 

You shot him a look, Gin? You?

“Follow me this way,” the bartender said. 

A smirk settled onto your captain’s face and he beckoned you toward him. 

The bartender opened a tall door that seemed to lead to darkness. 

“Enjoy,” he said. Curiosity had completely taken over and you led the way through the dark hallway, the faint sound of a bass being plucked echoing through, until you reached the end which was covered with a thick velvet curtain. 

You pushed through, Shanks’ hand once again finding itself on your back, though much lower this time. 

Soft, warm light lit up the room. Your eyes immediately jumped to the jazz band in the center illuminated by a red light. “… and in July, a lemonade, to cool you…,” the singer was halfway through "I Wish You Love". There were booths stationed around, with dark mahogany tables and wine-red velvet couches. Several other couples were spread through the bar, the soft buzz of background conversation filling the room. 

“Shanks,” you gasped. 

“You didn’t really think I’d take you to a shitty bar for our first date did ‘ja?” 

“I’m going to choose not to answer,” you smiled, taking his hand in yours. For a split second your attention was taken away from the room you were in and you could only focus on the feeling of your hand in his- his strength apparent even without him trying. 

“Must suck having to be the guy up front, huh?” 

You giggled and pulled him toward an empty booth with a good view of the band, “I’ll say. Though I would like that martini.”

“How ‘bout you go sit and I’ll grab it for you, sweetheart,” he said, gently patting your ass as you turned. 

With your drinks in hand, Shanks sat next to you, pulling you in closer to him. “Looks like we’re the only new couple in here,” he whispered in your ear, gesturing over toward a couple in the middle of a heated makeout session. You smiled at him, your eyes glimmering with mischief, “Hm, wanna try blending in?”

Shanks smiled, catching on to your request. You sipped your martini and bit an olive off of the toothpick that rested in the glass. 

“We’ve kissed before, y’know.”

“We have!? I think I’d remember if we had,” he returned. 

“No, no, we did,” you said, and he gave you a look that begged you to elaborate, “It was a few months back- when we did that stupid drinking contest. We were both pretty drunk, but I’d drank a lot less than you. Anyways, um, everyone had gone to bed or, I dunno, gone to find something else to do and we were left alone on deck. Unsupervised.” 

You wiggled your eyebrows at him earning a laugh. 

“I don’t remember it well, but I remember we laughed after. A lot.”

Shanks was smiling, resting his head on his hand as he gazed up on you. You averted your gaze. 

He moved quickly and by the time you realized what was happening you were already sinking into the kiss, bringing a hand up to grab the collar of his shirt, anything to stabilize yourself. 

Your heart was crawling up your throat, Shanks’ eyes were closed tight and he was clearly trying to savor every moment of the indulgent feeling of your lips against his. It warmed your heart that a man so feared on the open sea was reduced to a gentle, eager mess the moment he kissed you. 

You leaned further into him and his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands palming at your hips. His facial hair tickled and poked your face earning a head-spinning giggle from you. Shanks pulled away, his breaths short and 

“I want to tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do that but apparently this isn’t my first time kissing you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

The jazz band had started a new tune, longer notes and the steady strum of the bass playing a rendition of Waltz for Debby,  further amplifying the intimacy between the two of you. 

“Hopefully you remember this one,” you said smirking at him, “Or do you need a more memorable one?”

“Are you asking to kiss me again? Or do you just want confirmation that you’re a good kisser?”

“I am a good kisser. Better than you, anyway.”

“HA! You don’t even come close!”

“So arrogant, Captain. But I’d love to prove you wrong,” you took another sip of your drink. 

Pinching his cheeks between your fingers you pulled him toward you, this time savoring how he tasted. The bitterness of the whiskey on his lips coated your mouth as you slipped your tongue past his. Shanks’ breathing deepened and his fingertips sunk further into your hips- you could feel where you’d find bruises tomorrow morning. You brought a hand up to softly hold his throat and he moaned-

Oh god, he moaned! 

You pulled away pupils blown and lips puffy. 

Shanks’ cheeks were deep red, a sight that had your ego swelling. 

“You know,” he started, breathless, “I think you may be right.”

You smiled and finished the rest of your drink, “Need more evidence?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, running a hand through your hair.

“As a matter of fact, Y/n, I do.”

It was late when you finally found your way back to the ship. Shanks’ face was covered in red blotches of your smeared lipstick and your lips were equally messy. Your dress strap was falling off of your shoulder and Shanks’ shirt was plenty unbuttoned. 

“Well,” he said, placing a kiss on the back of your hand, “Now you get to choose.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“My bed or yours?”

You laughed and wrapped your hands around his neck to bring him down for another kiss. 

“Yours.”

(whipped!)Crocodile:

“You owe me money, Croc.”

“Let me take you to dinner.” 

He reached for your hand, which you let him take. 

He pressed his lips to it and started to trail kisses up your arm until you stopped him by pushing him off you and taking a seat on his lap. 

“If I go to dinner with you will you give me my money?”

“You’ll get it either way, sweetheart. A job well done is a job well done. I just want to take you out.”

Liar, you thought. 

But still, you took a second to think about it, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder, kissing your collarbone. 

You were intoxicating to him, completely overwhelming all of his senses. He knew how unprofessional it was to involve himself with the assassins for hire he dealt with but this was now his eighth time working with you and though you always did a fantastic and clean job, the quality of your work wasn’t really the reason he was hiring you anymore. 

“Where would you take me?”

“Desert Point. Or anywhere you wanted, really. I’ll cook for you if you’d like.”

You shifted in his lap, letting your thighs straddle his hips, and looked up at him. 

He pulled out a cigar from his breast-pocket, which you quickly snatched from his hand, “I hate the smell.”

He put a hand up in surrender and placed the cigar back in his pocket. 

Your eyes were focused on him, looking at his lips and trailing a finger up his neck. Your lips pouted as you considered his offer and the smell of your perfume filling every nook and cranny of his office and still, it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted all of you. 

The two of you had, of course, had a handsy encounter or two and you were more than familiar with how he tasted after a long night of office work and whiskey. But, greedy and selfish as ever, the warlord wanted more. He wanted you. In the mornings in his bed, and at night by his side. 

“Alright. You can cook for me, I suppose.” 

He smiled, not even trying to fight the rare display of happiness. 

“Any requests?”

You got up from his lap, batting away his hands which tried to grab you and hold you. 

“Don’t burn anything. I’ll bring a bottle of that whiskey you like,” you said heading open the door to his office, “Tomorrow night at 7.” 

Crocodile leaned back in his chair, savoring the lingering smell of you that had been making it difficult to concentrate for the past week, and waited until the click on your heels was far enough away to call Miss All Sunday and ask that she, “Please cancel all my appointments tomorrow.”

You knew Crocodile’s apartment well, having paid a few unknown visits and a few known ones. The last time you visited was after Crocodile had begged you to stop by for a glass of wine. You ended up drinking closer to five and neither of you could remember anything the morning after. You did, however, take note of the safe in his office where, if Baroque Works intel was anything to go off of, he kept the cash he used to pay black market hires such as yourself. Tonight would be a perfect opportunity to get your money, which you suspected he had no real intention of giving you. 

Dinner had gone well and you found yourself in his office, lounging on his couch. 

A jazz record played softly in the background and you’d both taken off a few layers of clothing. The only lighting was provided by a few candles he’d lit and you sat facing each other, each several glasses of wine in. 

“Stay here for a while,” he said, softly rubbing up and down your leg which you had draped over his lap, “With me.”

“I have work, Croc.”

“I’ll hire you, full-time.”

“No offense to your…. staff, but their work is a bit beneath me.” He laughed, “Then I’ll fund your stay here. You won’t pay for anything.”

This interested you. Staying a week in the nicest apartment on the continent with Crocodile wasn’t such a terrible deal. You swished your wine around in your cup.

“Will you cook?”

“For you? Of course.”

You stared at him and pretended to pass the thought over as he kissed your neck and palmed at your ass.

“Give me a chance to convince you to stay.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

A smirk settled on his face and he pulled you in for a kiss. 

You indulged him and deepened the kiss, letting your tongue slip past his lips. 

You giggled and sunk into his hold on you, his big hands holding you steady.

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay,” you buried your face into his chest, trying to fight the warmth in your cheeks.

The warlord squeezed you even tighter, earning a bout of laughter from you that placed a smile on his face. 

“This is bad for your image you know. You’re getting soft,” you mused, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“I promise you I am anything but soft right now.”

“Ha. Ha.”

He wrapped a hand up into your hair, gently pulling back at the base of your neck so he had full access to your neck, and sunk his teeth in biting gently so as not to draw blood but not gently enough to avoid leaving a mark. 

Your back arched into him and you mewled at the feeling, your nails digging into his shoulder. 

He brought your head back up and kissed you.

You brought your hands up to his collar and began undoing his tie, leaving it hanging on his shoulders. 

Slowly and without interrupting the kiss, you began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Crocodile leaned back into the couch to make your job easier and began undoing his belt, which you took from him. 

Crocodile went to bring his hands back up to your neck but- they didn’t move.

He looked down and his belt was fastened around his wrists. He tried to tear it but you’d done a damn good job and he was rendered rather helpless.

You got up and, after placing a soft kiss on his forehead, made your way to the safe behind the painting on the wall. 

“You said you’d stay!”

Not that it was much of a problem for him but Crocodile preferred when things went over smoothly. 

“Did I? Hmmm,” you said, ear to the safe as you turned the dial listening for the telltale click that let you know you unlocked it, “I lied.”

Click! 

“And if I make you stay? This makeshift restraint isn’t sea prism stone.”

You laughed and turned to look at him. 

“Go ahead.”

He scoffed. You both knew well you were the last person on earth he’d ever harm. 

“I’m gonna take my money and then some as a tip, alright? I will miss you though,” you said, making sure his arms were still tied in his lap. 

He couldn’t help but smile as you turned back around to the very empty safe. 

Your stomach dropped. 

“Where is the money-” 

“Like I’d keep it here, sweetheart. Especially not with you coming over.”

“You’re a thief. And a dirty one at that.”

“I’d take more offense if it wasn’t coming from you.”

You huffed and turned to his desk where you were quickly opening and closing drawers looking for where he’d moved the money. 

“Come and finish your wine, Y/n.”

“It isn’t here, is it? You’re a liar and a thief,”

He stayed silent and gestured toward your spot on the couch, a satisfied smirk settled on his infuriatingly handsome face. 

“Crocodile…” you warned, “I think you know better than to not pay me.”

He smiled, as though daring you to continue. Or what? the expression on his face begged. 

“Stay the week with me,” he said as you approached, “Please.”

You took your seat next to him and looking down at his hands noted the very significant absence of a belt tied around them. Your heartbeat picked up as he used a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

“You’re good, sweetness, but I’m better.”

You sighed and let him kiss you, reluctantly leaning into his touch. 

“You’ll stay the week.”

You nodded and were upset at yourself for feeling excited at the thought. You felt like a schoolgirl holding her crush’s hand. 

“Shall we go to bed then?”

He smiled and picked you up princess-style, one arm around your waist and one under your knees.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss on his cheek, “If you keep this game going you’ll end up having to marry me, you know.”

He smiled, his most sincere smile of the night. 

“Ah, wouldn’t that be terrible?” 

[hannahbarberra162]

Imagine Crocodile Reassuring You After A Hard Day

I have a lot of Thoughts about what Crocodile would be like as a husband (as opposed to sleeping with him). If you're just sleeping together, he'll fuck you over the table at his casino while continuing to play Craps. If you're married, he'll kill anyone who breathes in your direction.

I *do* think he would be kind and soft to someone he's in a serious relationship with. Just my 0.02.

No smut, just fluffy. ~450 words

Croc x GN!Reader

“What’s wrong?” 

You swiveled your head as soon as you heard Crocodile speaking to you. You were in the library, curled up under a blanket on a cushy chaise lounge, pretending to read. Crocodile lounged against the doorway, watching you while his cigar trailed smoke to the ceiling. You forgot how perceptive he was, how easily he was able to read you after spending so much time together. You plastered a watery smile on your face, you didn’t want to bother him with your petty problems. He was so busy with his work that when he had a moment of reprieve, you loathed wasting the precious time you got to spend together.

“Nothing, I promise I’m alright. Just small things,” you said with a shrug. Crocodile hummed and walked over to the lounge, his dress shoes clacking against the tile floor. You scooched forward, giving him enough space to sit with his arm lying on the back of the chair. Pulling you onto his lap, Crocodile tipped your head back to kiss you softly. 

“Do you want me to listen or problem solve?” he asked, kissing your forehead as you leaned back against his warm chest. Communication had been a challenge in your early relationship - you had wanted a shoulder to cry on and Crocodile was a pragmatic problem solver, eager to fix any hardship that befell you. He’d solved the problem by clarifying before beginning a discussion about what you were seeking from him. You also learned early on not to mention names or things got…messy. 

“Neither, it’s nothing, really -” You gasped as Crocodile unerringly pinched your nipple through your shirt.

“Don’t lie,” he drawled, taking another drag of his cigar. You shifted slightly, your ass feeling the phantom pain from the last spanking you’d gotten for lying.

“Then listen, I suppose…” Crocodile was quiet as you told him about the grievances and issues from your day, only interjecting when he wanted you to expound on a topic. By the time you’d finished talking about what was bothering you, you’d cried into his large chest while Crocodile soothed you. Hiccuping as your crying jag ended, you looked up into the eyes of the former Warlord.

“Thank you for taking the time to deal with my stupid -” Crocodile put his cigar in a nearby ashtray and scooped you up in his arms. You buried your head in his chest, smelling the rich cologne and lingering desert scent.

“Don’t belittle yourself and don’t thank me, neither are befitting the partner at my side. Your troubles are more important to me than anything else,” he said while carrying you off to bed for some additional...relaxation.

[shegetsburned]

no, but like, crocodile letting himself be vulnerable with his s/o.

in different ways, he discreetly shows he can be vulnerable with you and you only.

he’ll shower and take baths with you knowing he’s the weakest when he’s in contact with water.

he removes his hook when he prefers to be gentle with you, even though we all know he can be gentle with it as well. maybe it’s a way to show that you don’t have to be scared. i mean, at this point, he’s so used to people being terrified of him.

he lets you touch his scar, answering your many questions about them loving the curiosity in your gaze while listening. when you gently caress your thumb against the stitches along his cheeks and nose he can feel his heart pump faster.

just thinking about crocodile being cold but so loving at the same time. he can let his guard down whenever he’s with you. that’s what you mean to him. ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

[lovelywritinglady]

Crocodile’s Tears- Part Four- Rescue Mission

Sir crocodile x Fem!reader , Doflamingo x Sister!reader

In which you are trapped with Doflamingo and the “family” but your husband is on his way…

TW, Angst, mentions of serious violence, suicidal thoughts, Doflamingo abuses reader. Crocodile comes to the rescue.

Your Pov

Two months have passed since Doflamingo had admitted to murdering our brother Rosi. Three months that I’ve had to keep up appearances all because I’m terrified that I’ll end up just like him. Doflamingo has become closer to me claiming that I’m the last part of his past family and he doesn’t want anything to happen to me. Truthfully, I think he just wants to control me and the ounce of freedom I had left.

No matter where I go, or what I do, he’s always watching. He always has someone looking out for me. Even if it’s just to go to the Saturday market or to read in my room.Someone is always watching. The only real privacy I have is when I go to the bathroom. Although, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that becomes watched too. I’m terrified daily and the past mental trauma I’ve mostly healed from has come back, and it’s worse than it was before. I feel I'm losing who I am and becoming the scared little girl I use to be. The girl who lost her mother to a curable illness and father to her deranged brother. When I was younger I convinced myself that Doffy killing our father was justified. That our father's radical ideas killed our mother, so for years I deluded myself into praising my big brother for his terrible act.

Suddenly, a booming knock on my door startled me out of my thoughts, as my heart felt like it leapt out of my already aching chest. I scrambled to open the door quickly, fearing the worst if I didn't. As I opened the door I was unfortunately greeted with the sight of the evil I feared the most. We stared at each other for a moment. His malicious grin staring back at me as he towered above me suffocating me. I stared into the red of his glasses that hid the truth in his eyes filling me with a dread that I never knew I could feel.

"Well, aren't you going to greet your big brother, Y/n." Doflamingo sneered pushing his way through the door.

"H-hello brother." I greeted stumbling back a bit but catching myself as to not look weak in front of him.

"You haven't been very friendly with the family, our family." He spoke grabbing my face.

"I'm sorry, I just haven't been feeling well lately and I didn't want to involve them." I replied sounding as sincere as possible.

"They are family Y/n, I'm sure they can handle it." Doflamingo snapped. "Why haven't you come to me?" He asked bending down to my height

"I guess I didn't want to involve you too, brother." I softy said keeping my eyes on his crimson glasses.

"I hope this isn't about Corazon. Because that traitor doesn't deserve your sadness Y/n." He frowned as I felt heart beat on my ribs.

"Of course not." I stammered trying to push the thoughts of my murdered brother out of my head.

"Oh really, then why are you lying!" He yelled as he quickly knocked over the standing mirror to the left of us.

"I'm not!" I yelled

"Yes you are! How dare you think of him! He never loved you, I did! He abandoned you for the Marines! He abandoned us you stupid girl!" Doflamingo spat coming so close I could feel his spit on my face. My anger began to flow as all of the fear I felt recently seemed to disappear.

"He did what he had to to stay far away from you! You fucking psycho!" I screamed looking at him with pure hatred.

Suddenly, I found myself on the ground. My body stung and my face felt red hot with searing pain. Then, without warning, my stomach my hit over, and over, and over again. I couldn't think, I couldn't move as I could feel my blood all over me. My vision was cloudy with red and then suddenly, I felt nothing at all.

Hours Later...

Hell, this was hell. I woke up from the most horrible nightmare, except it was my new reality. Doflamingo had beaten me so badly that I couldn't move. My body was in so much pain that even the slightest movement hurt. Even breathing seemed impossible in my current state. However, what made it worse was that he was seated next to me crying hysterically, and that terrified me more than anything else. I slowly looked at him showing my emotion in my eyes as my face hurt too much to move. He took notice of my eyes on him and make an unfamiliar face.

"Y/n, you're awake! I'm so sorry I hurt you, my dear sister!" He spoke uncharacteristically. I didn't respond, not like I could anyway. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything." He attempted to comfort. "I wish you didn't say all those things Y/n. If you hadn't this would have never happened. I promise it will never happen again, as long as you behave yourself." Doflamingo promised "I love you sister, and nothing will ever keep me from you again."

My eyes widened by what he did next, as the horror of my new reality set in again. He kissed my cheek and softly caressed my other. His tears fell upon my face making me cry out from the stinging sensation of them. He paid no attention to my cries and instead placed his massive head onto my belly. He stayed there for a long time crying and singing to himself as I lay there helpless as my pain got worse. And then, he lifted his head, took his signature glasses off and stared at me with eyes I hadn't seen since I was a child. Those brilliant blue eyes stared into mine sending shivers through my abused body.

"I've called for the Tonttata Princess to come and help ease your pain my sweet sister. But, you needed to suffer for a while, so you could understand how you have made me feel. I never wanted to do that to you, but it had to happen." He cooed giving you one last kiss on my bruised cheek. He then placed his glasses back on his face as I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Because now those foreign blue eyes wouldn't be staring straight into my weary soul.

———

After a few moments, the tiny princess came into the room along with two of Doflamingo's guards. She looked at you and tears left her. Not out of sadness but of anger for Doflamingo. She knew who you were, everyone in the castle did, but she definitely never expected to see you in such a state.

"Heal her." Doflamingo commanded scaring the captured princess.

"Y-yes, young master." She squeaked

Soon, the light of her healing devil fruit powers illuminated your body. She placed her hands gently on your body, making sure not to bring you further discomfort. suddenly, your body was encompassed in light and the searing pain you had felt for hours was going away. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt so safe and comfortable. This princess's powers were remarkable and you just wished she wasn't being held captive too.

"All done, she might feel sore for awhile and some of the bruises might return, but all of the major injuries are gone." The Princess told Doflamingo, her eyes not meeting his.

"Good, return the princess to her room. I need to speak to her alone." Doflamongo cheered

Once everyone but you and Doflamingo were out of the room, he suddenly engulfed you into a hug. You froze not knowing what to do in this situation. You heard him sniffling as he held you closer to him. He stroked your hair pushing you further into his toned chest.

"Will you forgive me?" He then asked nuzzling intro your hair

"Yes." You whispered fearing if you said anything else that you would end up in in the same situation as you did just moments ago.

"That makes me happier than you could ever understand, Y/n." Doflamingo spoke as he lifted your head and placed an uncomfortable kiss on your temple. "Despite what you might think you are better off with me than you are with that cranky man you once called your husband. I hope you know that." He added stroking your once bruised cheek.

"Yes." You spoke again still fearing your previous fate.

"You've always been such a good girl, guess that's why mother and father adopted you." He laughed still holding your shaking body against his. "You are the most precious thing to me now, and nothing is ever going to stop that. And no one will take you away from me, I promise this to you." Doflamingo spoke confidently.

———

For the next couple of weeks, this became your new routine. Doflamingo would be mad at something and would come to you for comfort. Despite all of the promises that no harm would come to you by anyone else, he made no such promises for himself. So, instead of talking he would thrash you around like he did all of those weeks ago. And just like all of those weeks ago, the captured princess would be taken from her cell and come heal your abused body. You had became so accustomed to this, that you almost looked forward to the beating just so you could feel her beautiful light around your body. In a twisted way it became your personal drug. When he wasn't beating you, he would force you to come everywhere with him, almost as if you were his dog. He even closed your flower shop due to you not being able to be close enough to him.

Your mind often drifted to happier places when it could. Whenever you dreamed it would only be of your past life with Crocodile. His warmth and embrace comforted you during the times you were alone in cold room. His voice sometimes echoed through your mind, making you smile even when you forgot how to. The love you shared with Crocodile was gone now, but your memories of him would never be forgotten. You resented your decision to leave him, especially with the current situation you were in now. You wished you had just stayed and tried to talk to him. Things with your husband weren’t perfect, but you knew deep down that he really did love you. And now all you craved was to be set free from this nightmare and be back in his warmth.

Although, you craved him in ways you never had before, part of you feared that he no longer wanted you. That even if he knew of your situation and changed heart that maybe it was too late now. Your last conversation was proof of that, but you figured if you could change so could he. Though, given how stubborn your husband can be, you thought that wasn’t likely. What you did know was that you were stuck in this beautiful country with the most vile man of all. And to top it all off, there was nothing you could do to stop it. Nothing anyone could do now to stop it. And that thought terrified you like no other. So much so that you thought death was a better option than continuing to endure this hell.

———

One Month Earlier…

Crocodile’s Pov

"Sir, we found the man you were looking for." Daz said as he walked in with the man we've been looking for.

"Took you long enough to come, your abilities are very important to us." I replied looking at the man we've been seeking for a month now.

"Forgive me, Mr. Crocodile, I was on other business you see." Mr. Ryzaon spoke giving me a half-assed apology.

"Will you be able to do as requested?" I asked glaring at me man in front of me.

"Of course I will, there is no place I cannot break into." He boasted

"Good, we must leave at once then. It'll take a month to get to Dressrosa , maybe slightly longer, and I don't wish to leave my wife there any longer than she needs to be." I spoke urgently

"Of course Sir, I'll pick her up and bring her safely back to you!" Mr. Ryzaon assured." Although, there is still an issue of my payment," He whispered leaning far too close making me scowl at the foolish man.

"You'll get paid as soon my wife is safely back in my arms!" I snapped slamming my fist down on my wooden desk.

"O-of course, Mr. Crocodile! Naturally!" He stuttered bowing his head

I scoffed in response and gestures to Daz to prepare the ship to voyage to Dressrosa. Once him and Mr. Ryazon left, I prepared myself for the important voyage ahead. Rescuing her from her criminally insane brother is by far the most important task at hand. No further business mattered until she was safe with me once again.

In all of the years I’ve known Doflamingo, I’ve never once wanted to do business with him. He’s far too cunning and unpredictable. I, of course, got swept up in his “family business” because I married his sister. She was too irresistible not to have, no wonder Doflamingo wanted her back. Only now I fear what he’s done to my sweet wife and what horrors she must have seen or endured.

I pinched in between my brows out of frustration due to the uncertainty of the situation at hand. This plan I’ve come up with has a chance of success, though it’s very slim. But no matter what happens, she I’ll come back with me and will never see that shitty bird man again. I don’t care if she hates me for it, I will get her back.

One Month Later…

“Sir, due to bad weather, we are going to be delayed for two days.” Daz informed me staring at the sea in front of him.

“We should’ve picked a better man to steer this dammed ship!” I spat clenching my fist.

“I agree Sir, but this was the best captain we could find on such short notice.” Daz replied

“Even if we have to go to war, I will get my wife back!” I proclaimed

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Daz spoke softly.

I hummed in response as I proceeded back to my quarters deciding to go over my plan for the hundredth time that day. Once, I was done I sat back in my chair staring up at the ceiling. My urge to just fly over to Dressrosa right now was high, but I couldn't be so rash. Especially since my wife's life was on the line.

———

Two Days Later...

The operation to rescue Y/n was finally at hand. It was dark out , nearly midnight, and the ship was eerily quiet as everyone Crocodile employed for this were awaiting their silent orders.Crocodile himself started to feel an uncomfortable anxiety wash over him at the thought of this mission failing. Although, he had some faith in the man he hired to rescue you. Mr. Ryazon was a man with spotless track record and his devil fruit abilities were perfect for the important job at hand.

"Sir, it's nearly time." Daz Bones whispered to Crocodile.

"Good, now make sure he knows that if he harms a her in any way that Doflamingo will be the last of his worries." Crocodile threatened looking ahead at Dressrosa that stood in the distance.

"Yes sir." Daz replied following orders.

Once at Mr. Ryazon's quarters Daz replayed the information his boss gave him making Mr. Rayazon turn slightly pale.

"Of course I will not harm her. I'm not a fan of violence, especially that against women. My skills are only for retreaving, I can assure you." He replied with a scowl.

"Get ready, you are to leave for Dressrosa in a few minutes." Daz spoke ignoring Mr. Ryazon's anger.

"I don't see why we need to be so damn far away. I'm very stealthy you see." Mr. Ryazon argued as he stood next to Daz.

"They have a devil fruit user that has a long range clairvoyance. It's risky just having you go there let alone an entire ship." Daz spoke staring at the shorter male.

"This girl better be worth a hell of a lot for me to be risking my life like this!" Mr. Ryazon complained pushing past Daz in a pout. He hen made his way to the front of the ship where Crocodile stood. "Alright Crocodile, lets gets this done, I don't want to be stuck here longer than I need to be." He whined

"Neither do we." Crocodile mumbled "Your boat is ready, including all of the supplies you might need." He added

"I don't need much Sir, my devil fruit powers should prove that." Mr. Ryazon boasted making his way to the boat.

"Make sure that you are back here by dawn or else." Crocodile warned

"I'll get it done before that, I can assure!" He yelled as he began rowing away from the ship.

"If he isn't back by dawn I'll rescue her myself and kill him." Crocodile thought to himself as he watched smaller boat disappear into the fog.

———

You stood at the only window in your room, looking out at the sleeping city. It was nearly two in the morning now as had only just left Doflamingo side after being practically glued to it all day; not by choice. He was reasonable today and didn't lay a single hand on you that caused you any pain. Even though you had a break from his constant torment, you couldn't feel at ease knowing that it could change in a split second. Your body trembled at the thought of him coming into your room or any of the "family" for that matter. You were transfixed on the soft light illuminating from the city as well as the faint sound of the waves, that you failed to sense the man who stood only three feet from you.

"Hello miss-" The man spoke

"What the hell!" You yelled pressing yourself against the window. "Who the hell are you?" You questioned feeling terribly scared

"Shhhhh, I'm here to rescue you! Crocodile sent me! My name is Mr.Ryazon!" He whisper yelled

"What?" You spoke just barely a whisper.

"Are you deaf or something? They didn't mention that." Mr. Ryazon deadpanned

"N-no, I'm in disbelief!" You shot back. "He came for me." You spoke softly feeling ounce hope for the first time in months. Then without warning a loud knock was heard on your door.

"Dammit, the plan's gonna go south." Mr. Ryazon complained looking for a place to hide.

"Ms. Donquixote! Is everything alright?" Of of the guards stationed outside of your room questioned.

"Y-yes, I just bumped into the side of the bed!" You called back hoping to God that they bought your lie.

"Are you injured? I'm going to call the Young Master just in case!" They replied making your heart stop.

"T-that won't be necessary!" You stammered

"It'll only be a moment Ms." The guard assured

"Shit!" You whispered to yourself when suddenly you felt a hand grabbed onto your arm.

"I can't fight for shit so we need to run! This operation was suppose to run smoothly but if Doflamingo is coming, we are both dead." Mr. Ryazon spoke seemingly scared.

"Who's voice was that?" The guard once again asked

"We gotta go now!" Mr. Ryazon spoke urgently tugging you along.

"How are we going to get out of here?' You questioned realizing how high your room stood in the castle.

"Don't worry about that now, just hold onto me!" He spoke holding my body by my waist. "And do not let go or you will die!" He added staring directly into your soul.

"N-no problem!" You chirped wrapping your arms around him. `

Then, without warning, you both were suddenly engulfed into the floor. To you, it felt like falling and you couldn't help but let out a quick scream as you held onto this man for dear life. The sensation only lasted fro a moment before the two of you were safely on the ground. Your eyes widened with shock as you stared at the man that was still holding your now shaking body.

"Impressed are we?" Mr. Ryazon smirked

"How the hell did you do that?" You asked ignoring his question

"I'll tell you once we are on the boat. For now, we need to hurry or we are both going to end up dead, me more so." He said letting you go by the waist and grabbing your hand instead.

"Fine by me!" You smiled letting him guide you out of the city. Although, still fearing may Doflamingo catch up to you both.

———

"Oh Fuck!" he guard standing outside of y/n's room yelled looking at the now empty room. He rushed throughout the castle to where his Young Master was."Sir, Sir!' The guard yelled urgently

"What is it?" Doflamingo asked sitting at his desk doing some paperwork.

"Sir, its your sister." The guard reluctantly spoke

"What about her?" Doflamningo questioned feeling his anger spike

"S-shes not in her room Sir!" he trembled

"What do you mean she's not in her room?" Doflamningo inquired standing up slowly from his desk.

"Well sir-" the guard started only to have his conversation cut short by Doflamingo grabbing him by his neck and lifting him up in the air.

"You let her escape!" Doflamingo roared squeezing the guard's neck harder making his face turn a deep shade of purple.

The guard struggled against the mighty strength of his Young Master. However, all of his struggles were useless as Doflamingo broke his neck just as easily as breaking a toothpick. He then tossed the now dead guard aside as he quickly left his office but not before grabbing his Den Den Mushi.

"All guards on the island must bring back my sister. She is not in her room!" Doflamingo yelled into his Den Den Mushi that was connected to the guards main quarters. "Whoever can bring her here unharmed, will receive a bountiful reward!" He added hoping this would speed their search.

Doflamingo then began his search for his sister on his own as he attached his strings to the few clouds above hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Although, what he didn't know was that she was already at the secret location that Mr. Ryazon had hidden his boat.

"I'll find you Y/n and when I do you'll receive more than a beating." Doflamingo thought to himself as he continued his search all over "his" kingdom.

———

"Get in the boat girl!" Mr. Ryazon whisper yelled tugging at your hand

"I'm going!" You snapped back quickly getting into the small boat nestled between two big rocks.

"Hold on miss! The sea is a bit rocky this at this time of night!" He spoke as he began pushing the boat against the strength of the waves.

As he pushed the boat with you in it, you noticed a group of people in the distance holding guns in their arms. Their uniforms were so familiar to you know that you knew exactly who they were and who they worked for.

"Hurry! My broth-, Doflamingo's soldiers are coming!" You warned him.

"Shit! Grab some oars and start rowing!" Mr. Ryazon commanded as he swiftly got into the boat.

You nodded at him grabbing a set of oars and quickly putting them into place. You then started rowing as hard as you could. These past months being confined had made you weaker than you usually were, but you carried on hoping that whatever strength you did have, would be enough. Soon, both you and your rescuer fought through the rough waves together, with Mr. Ryazon leading the way. The soldiers of your retched brother now fading from sight, just like the country you were trapped in. Your anguish was now fading away, but not your new found anger. You and Mr. Ryazon rowed together for sometime before you began to wonder when you'd be at the ship.

"How much longer till we are at the ship?" You questioned realizing you were about to see your husband after a long time.

"Nervous are we?" Mr. Ryazon inquired teasing you a bit.

"Didn't realize you were paid for idle chit chat." You teased back

"I'm not, but there is nothing wrong with a simple conversation." He replied shrugging his shoulders.

"Fair, I guess I am." You spoke softly taking notice at the slight change of color in the sky.

"I've only known the man for a month but from what I do know is that he's obsessed with you." Mr. Ryazon said now noticing the slight change in color too. "Seems like that man would go to hell just to get you back." He added speaking softly

"I guess he and I have a lot to talk about." You replied feeling your nervousness go down a little.

"Well, well be there in a few moments so start preparing." he chuckled as the sky got even brighter than before.

"Will do." You smiled "Now since we have some time, how the hell did we fall through the floor." You questioned making the man in front of you sigh slightly.

"Guess I'll tell you since you asked me so nicely. I ate the phase-phase fruit and so now my body and whatever my body comes in contact with. He explained

"Ahh, that's so fun. Bet it makes you a hell of a thief." You complimented.

"Why thank you miss." He replied

"Is that it? You asked hopefully looking at the ship off in the distance.

"Yep! Thank god we made it in time!" He cheered turning his head to look at the ship now illuminated in the distance.

You stared at your new found vessel of freedom and new beginnings. A hopeful feeling bubbled up inside you at the reunion of you and your husband. Though dread also followed as you and your rescuer slowly made your way to the vessel. You rowed closer and closer until a tall figure loomed over head. You squinted trying to see if you recognize the the figure. As the sun shone more brightly and as your boat drew closer you saw it, you saw him. Your boat now at the side of the ship ready for you and Mr. Ryazon to ascend into the ship.

Your breath hitched as you saw him while climbing the ladder of the ship, still looking as handsome as the last time you laid eyes on him. His steel eyes never left yours either as they had a familiar softness to them. The same ones you had seen for years. The same ones he had on the day of your wedding. You felt so lost in them even as he came closer to your smaller self, your own eyes never left his.

The crowd surrounding you both seemed to fade away as he stood before you. The sun had risen giving you an ethereal glow that made Crocodile's heart beat faster. His hand then reached out for your face making you flinch away from his touch. He took notice of your reaction to such a simple gesture and his anger for your brother grew stronger.

"You're safe now Y/N." Crocodile spoke softly looking at you as though you were the most angelic thing he'd ever seen.

"Thank you f-for rescuing me." You replied your eyes now avoiding his

"You're my wife and this is the least I can do for you." Crocodile spoke still admiring you. "Let's go somewhere private, there is much for us to discuss." He suggested gesturing to another part of the ship.

"Yeah, we've got a lot of catching up to do." You replied as you started preparing yourself for what's next.

Sorry this took so long 😥Thank you so much for reading! This part was a longer one!! One more part to go!! This ones is going to be emotional💜

Tag list: @sylum @tellynojelly

Please feel free to like, comment, request, reblog, and follow.

Click HERE to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any Original Characters•

-L.W.L

[traflawgar]

love is in the air

crocodile x f.reader

what kind of date is crocodile planning for valentine's? is it a romantic date? and adventurous one? keep reading to find out!

TAGS: established relationship. fluff. modern au.

crocodile - wine tasting tour

The sweet smell of grapes drifted in the air as the vineyard, the third on this little tour, came into view. It was bigger than the previous two and, from what your fiance had told you, it also offered a private experience, complete with a beautiful view of the sunset and a wide variety of cheese and meat to enjoy along with your wine.

Crocodile, one hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel, glanced at you analytically. So far, you hadn’t made a comment, positive or otherwise, about how much you were enjoying the date he’d planned. He was beginning to second guess his plan, a feeling rather unwelcomed and unusual.

As if you could sense his discomfort, you shone a bright smile his way, before all but jumping out of the car and telling him to hurry up. He heaved a sigh of relief. One purposefully slow walk and a kiss later, Crocodile was guiding you towards the entrance, a calloused hand placed gently on your lower back.

The hostess that greeted you, upon hearing the name on your reservation, gave you an extremely wide smile, her voice suddenly growing saccharine and high-pitched as she told you to “follow me”. 

The room she took you to had a beautiful view. Grape vines stretched so far you couldn’t see the end. Behind them, the sun got ready to give way to the moon. Orange bled into pink and plum, faint stars scattered here and there.

“Its beauty is almost as exquisite as yours,” he whispered in your ear, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine. He offered you a glass and poured a little wine in it. His hand travelled back to the small of your back once it was free. 

You took a sip, letting the wine sit on your tongue for a second before you swallowed it. A complex mix of flavors danced on your tastebuds, earthy and with a hint of something too fancy for you to articulate. Imitating your fiance, who knew much more about wines than you cared to learn, you let out an interested hum. Upon tasting the next wine, you simply shook your head at its tart taste. Then a frown for the overly fruity one, secretly your favorite, and an appreciative hum for the expensive-tasting one—you might’ve not known much about texture and body and all that when it came to wine, but you could still recognize an expensive one by the taste and your fiance’s reaction to it.

“I like this one,” you admired, fooling no one. Crocodile shot you an amused glance, and proceeded to pour more of the sweet, fruity wine you’d liked. You gladly received the new glass.

“You act as if I don’t know you, love,” said softly and with a kiss on your cheek.

With a laugh, you complained, “At least pretend you’re fooled by my performance, I worked hard to seem like I knew what I was doing.”

Crocodile stroked your cheek, thumb trailing dangerously the corner of your lip. A lazy smile played on his lips. “You’re lovely, my dear.” Taken aback by what you expected to be teasing words, you failed to come up with a response.

It didn’t matter, though. Soon he kissed you so hungrily you couldn’t have formed any thoughts anyway.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@softlypaintedseafoam

NOTES: Crocodile is an elegant man, and so he planned the most elegant date out of all of the one piece men.

[fanaticsnail]

When We Wake

Masterlist here

Word count: 1,300+

Synopsis: Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

Themes: established relationship, sir Crocodile x reader, gn!reader - non gendered descriptors, suggested nudity, kisses, confessions of love, sir Crocodile is soft for you, romance, romantic imagery, morning kisses, lazy kisses.

Notes: @carrotsunshine wanted a lovestruck Crocodile to read when she finished work today. I had no choice, my hands were bound and I stayed up past midnight again getting it done. While Croco is not one of the regular characters to write for, I did find myself falling for him a little in this fic. @since-im-already-here suggested the song, because smol-snail is a queen. Was written on my phone.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @i-am-vita

Song: Until I Found You - Stephen Sanchez, Em Beihold

Falling asleep, content within the arms of a lover is a luxury Sir Crocodile never knew he could afford. Although extremely wealthy, he deemed himself unworthy of such an exuberant opulence. For all his shortcomings in his youth, clawing with his right hand while grappling with his left hook to be within the lap of comfort all Berry could buy: this small slice of the heavens he carved for himself with you was priceless.

It was not so dissimilar for you. You had never known a love as passionate, as heated, nor as deep a connection as the one you shared with Sir Crocodile. He was your world, and you were his. These few moments together, before the world drew first breath and the symphony of birdsong would sing to welcome the dawn, you lay in complete syncronancy.

Your heartbeats would thump to the same rhythm, your lungs extend as you drew breath in the same soothing inhale before softly exhaling in unison. If one of you shifted to rotate, splayed fingertips would search in yearning to find each other's warmth within the night: shifting blankets to adjust the heat for one another accordingly.

If you fell out of rhythm together, after a night of sound, blissful slumber, and one of you woke first: the other would gaze fondly at the lover they had taken.

When Sir Crocodile awoke first, his right hand would rise from its position against your hip, slowly raking his fingers delicately along your skin. His calloused hand was coarse and rough, but his fingers were always soft and gentle for you.

Finally, as his fingers reach your shoulders, he massages your shoulder tenderly before raking his forearm over your body and tucking your slumbering form firmly secured against his chest. His eyes were half-hooded, gazing with the softest flutter of his lengthy eyelashes down at you.

“You are so precious to me, my moon,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a tender kiss softly against your hair, “A bright light that guides me through such horrors within my darkened past.” You barely stir within your sleep, unaware such deep, devoted confessions were being freely gifted from the smiling lips of your lover.

“You are the blood that swells my heart,” his breath tickled your temple as his scarred cheek nuzzled against the crown of your head, “It would be too simple a thing to kill for you, as it would be to die for you.”

Unconsciously, your body began to burrow into his chest within your slumber. A soft moan expelled itself from between your lips as you reveled in the contact of your bare skin against his own. His final confession was whispered like a prayer into your ear.

“You command my very soul, my spirit is yours to do with what you will,” he smiled as he felt you stirring within his arms, “Should you toy with me, torture me, or choose to trust me: either way, I am yours, and I will live my life for you.”

Upon hearing his words, your immediate response upon waking was to press a kiss within the hollow flesh of his jugular notch. His breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as a rumbled groan in bliss swelled within his chest.

“As I am yours, my beautiful Crocodile.”

Should you find yourself to be the first to rise, your breath would hitch as your eyes met with his face. Within his slumber, he managed to break away from your embrace. Lying on his back, his hair splayed down over his face, you notice the deep furrow of his brows and the soft shudder of a snarl.

Softly and cautiously, you draw up your hands over his broad chest to hover over his face. The bright lightning-sheen of his healed scar illuminated within the soft light of the morning. You slowly lean over him, your chest lying flush against his as you straddle his waist.

You splay your forearms over his chest, elbows barely reaching the shoulders of the large man as you lay your ear flush against his chest. The rapid beat of his heart began to slow, a deep, sleepy inhale of his breath sucked in through his lips and departed softly through his nose.

“You are the most precious thing to me, my beautiful Crocodile,” you confessed your deep devotion into his chest, “No gold, jewels, nor Berry could ever meet you as equal.”

Sweeping your cheek away from his chest, you brushed your nose against his chest before beginning a trail of soft and lazy kisses over his pectorals. For each kiss you planted, a confession was whispered into his skin.

“You are the greatest man I have ever known,” you pressed a deep kiss against his clavicle bone, “Your fierce devotion to me is only outmatched by my own to you.”

The swell of his chest beneath your body indicated he was beginning to stir within his deepest rest. He sighed as he raised his right arm to unconsciously pull you closer into his chest. You elevated your chin to gaze up into his dark, violet eyes that had barely split apart between the curtain of his eyelashes.

“You are my closest confidant, my most ferocious protector,” you pressed a lengthy kiss against his jaw before brushing the hair that shrouded his face from full view, “You are all mine.” His eyes were sleepily gazing down at you, feeling the shift of your body flush against his own.

“As you are all mine.”

But should you find yourselves back within that perfect synchrony, on very rare occasions, your eyelashes would flutter as the world around faded into view. The world, as both of you knew it within your souls, was within the arms of one another. The only world that mattered to you both in those fleeting moments, before obligation and commitments called to you; was only, and always, each other.

As your joint eyelids rose together, your glassy orbs found their peace within each others' gaze. You were always the first to smile, where he was always the first to reach out to pull your body against his.

It was always up for debate as to who uttered those sacred words first. The three sought after and holy words that bound you together as one life, one body, one heart, and one soul. Those simple words that had the most mighty and hardened soldiers stutter and stumble over them in their fluster.

Immediately meeting with your smiling lips, Sir Crocodile swooped down and captured them beneath his own. Always slow, the angle of his jaw would alternate with his chin extending down and rotating to depict his heated passion. The bridge of his nose brushed against your own, the rumble of his moan expelled within your mouth as yours fled into his.

Parting your lips, you sought out more contact with your body pressed firmly against your passionate lover. You hooked your arms over his neck as he braced his right arm and left forearm around your waist.

He rolled you over his chest, before using the propulsion of the swinging motion of your body to pin you beneath him. You squealed into his mouth in shocked joy, his lips never breaking their deep contact against your own. With your lover now between your legs, you clawed at his shoulders to tug him closer.

The deep furrow of his brow, and sharp inhale of breath through his nose, had you enchanted by his enthusiastic welcome to commence the day. Almost begrudgingly, he finally split contact away from your lips to smile down at your position beneath him.

Taking a moment to silently acknowledge each other, you slowly laced your hands within the ink-black strands at the back of his head just as he leaned down to press his forehead against your own. Your whispers were almost inaudible, this confession being so scared you both dare not present it to undesirable ears.

This confession was just meant for only each other, your lips brushing briefly as you both relayed your devotion in perfect, unified symphony.

“I love you.”

[usopps-devotee]

Taking a break from our irregularly unscheduled The Bird and the Bunny AU HCs to dump play everyone’s new favorite silly little game —

Would There Be a Wedding?! Tonight’s special guests are: Mihawk! Sanji! Usopp! Buggy! And Crocodile!

Mihawk: Probably not. Besides little niggling things to take into account like (he isn’t close enough with anyone to have witnesses, he doesn’t want anyone fucking up his land, it puts a target on your back). as far as Mihawk is concerned, you’re already married. Think of it as a common law marriage, set by his own rules since you both reside on his own island. After all, you’re one of the very, very few people he tolerates and respects; you both take care of his home and garden; you read together; you cuddle into him, show no fear, make love — if that isn’t a spouse, then he refuses to let any man, piece of paper, or law decide what is for him. You are his, and he is yours. At the very most, if you insist on it, he might prepare a feast for two and acquire a beautiful outfit for you to wear. But that being said, an actual wedding ceremony is just unlikely.

(If Shanks finds out, an actual party winds up happening anyway when the Red Hair crew makes landfall on Kuraigana, bearing wedding gifts, food, and plenty of alcohol.)

Sanji: PLEASE give his boy a wedding PLEASE. He borderlines Groomzilla, he would be so hands-on. But know that it comes from a place of love. Besides being extremely invested in the preparations for the menu (“There’s such thing as a seven course meal?! HOW?!?!”), he wants everything to be symbolic of the two of you coming together: We’re talking symbolic colors, complimentary flavors and dishes, whatever he can conceptualize. There’s honestly a chance there will be multiple ceremonies — one for just you guys and the immediate Strawhat crew, one for the guys back at Baratie, etc. And no matter how many or how few attendees there are, it will always feel like a massive party. Also…if you don’t mind it, he would really, really like to take your surname. You’re his family, after all.

Usopp: He wants a wedding, though honestly he mostly wants to have one to prove himself to you. He knows he’s not the bravest or strongest person out there (hell, he’s not even the bravest or strongest Strawhat). But he wants so desperately to give you the best life you can have as the spouse of a notoriously wanted pirate crew. And while he’s sure finding the One Piece may open so many more doors that could make that happen, he’s not sure he can wait that long. He wants you to know the depths of his love as soon as possible, and no story he tells can truly encapsulate it all. He’s running out of hyperboles and allegories that express to you just how important you are to him! It honestly takes Nami talking some sense into him for him to truly grasp that it’s not the ceremony that counts, but what you’re meant to gather for: To bind your love and lives together. Which, frankly, you’ve already done after so long adventuring together. But just to play it safe…You have a small ceremony thrown by the crew on the ship. Your honeymoon is only one night spent docking on he nearest island, allowing the both of you time to, Ahem, consummate in a hotel. It’s simple. Some might scoff rustic. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Buggy: Buggy would want a wedding for the showmanship and you know it. He’s not so much in for the sentimentality as he is looking for the next hot ticket item. And heaven help everyone if he decides to hold the wedding in a village he’s taken hostage: The villagers, of course, are going to be forced to watch and pretend their tears of horror and frustration are from being happy; the crew is going to be cracked down on to assure a perfect performance; and you’re going to deal with Buggy being a total groomzilla, demanding perfection at any and all corners or else he. Will lose. His shit. And that’s without getting into how he wants to show you off. Honestly, this is one of his driving factors: He will gladly parade you around the main ring, bright lights on you as if to tell the world “Look! See what I could get? ME!! I got them!!” So…yeah honestly, a wedding would be an ego trip for him. (Though if you shut that shit down, he’ll listen. Pout, but listen.) However it’s during the actual exchange of vows that the mask cracks and he might start bawling because wow holy shit, he got YOU. HIM!!

Crocodile: Similar to Mihawk, I don’t think he’s in any rush to have a wedding. He doesn’t necessarily see you through terms of spouse or bedwarmer — you’re simply, well, his. Though I guess if anyone outside the relationship had to say anything, then yeah, for simplicity’s sake, you are Crocodile’s spouse. (I feel like people like Croc or Hawk are so beyond conventions and comfortable with themselves that they simply just decide y’all are married and that’s enough.) That being said, in addition to this, there’s a bit of risk for a man of his position to have something as vulnerable as a ceremony that basically screams two things to the world: That he is capable of tenderness, and that the recipient of that tenderness is you. It puts more targets on the both of you than he feels like dealing with. But if you insist on having a big ceremony and party to celebrate y’all’s union, then… *sigh* It can’t be helped, can it? He could easily protect you, should something go wrong. Hell, he could easily afford the security as an extra precaution. It’ll just be another big party after all. And the cherry on top at least is him asserting to the world that you’re his. You will likely spend the entirety of the reception attached to him in some way: His hand on your hip as you greet guests, perched on his lap as higher-standing/rich guests come to pay their respects and present to you wedding gifts. He won’t admit it but…he kinda likes the vibe.

Yo like I've been trying to come up with something to say about this but it's perfect. What I will add is:

I feel like no one told Shanks, more so you pestered Dracule to at least get you a ring, which tipped him off. You know he loves you, but having the physical ring made you feel better. Black opal for the stone in the ring.

One of the few times where Sanji is the one who has lost his head, and the closer it gets to the ceremony, the worse his attitude is. Poor baby is just so nervous and wants everything to be perfect for you, he wouldn't have anything less for the love of his life. Sapphire and Topaz for the statement gems in the ring.

The crew has been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. All bets had long been surpassed and everyone is damn near ready to yell at you two to tie the knot. One of the happiest days among the crew. As for the events after the wedding, the happy couple did not return till late in the afternoon. I'm thinking Chrysoberyl; this stone can have a really pretty star cut. That's exactly what he gets; if not, then Simpsonite.

Buggy for sure said he wouldn't cry but there was definitely a tear or two that fell down his cheek before you even took your steps down the aisle. The whole thing feels like a dream for the both of you completely unreal. Parade you around even more now that you're officially his and no one can take him away from you. You thought I would say Ruby, SIKE. Red Berl fuckers and diamonds ofc.

Croc would get on your fucking nerves at first, you overhear him calling you, his spouse. If you like it then you should've put a ring on it, last time you checked there wasn't a ring on your finger. when you confronted him about this, he thought it was just a ploy to get more jewelry, so he just took a ring off his finger and gave it to you. it was placed on his desk as you angrily walked out, that is what got him to realize that he fucked up and you were serious about the ring. Crocodile gives into your whims, giving you the wedding you deserve. Truth be told he's happy he did it, Croc never thought he was the type of man to get married yet here he was. Happy spouse, happy house. flat out asked you what you wanted, this whole thing was more for you and not him. Doesn't matter if it takes him years to get his hand on it, your every wish it his command.

[soleilnomoon]

hey miss kaia 😼 I wasn’t sure if I should message you or send it this way butttt I’d love a strawberry-mango mai tai (crocodile or shanks) w/ songs 12, 15, and 23 from the playlist 👩🏾‍💻

hiiiii bb 🥰️ ty for requesting! i am so so sorry this took so long, but it’s here at last. also this was my first time writing crocodile, so i was v excited and wrote more than necessary but lbr i’m a long-winded mfer ok, that’s just how it is there’s no cure unfortunately; anyway i like how it turned out and if i kept writing we’d be here forever ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

2.1k words (don’t look at me), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; fluff if you count him not choking her as fluff & smut (and angst that u didn’t ask for but i gave it to u bc i’m unwell like that 😊; feat. post-time skip crocodile in denial (he’s king of it clearly), reader who is (rightfully) in her feelings abt everything, smoking, established relationship, exes 2 lovers bc that’s my jam, a lil bit of miscommunication, crocodile is bad at emotions and reader is too emotional — they’re perfect for each other obvy — rough sex, is it considered knife play if he has a hook (asking 4 a friend), a lot of kissing (hello romance), probably other stuff but idr. crocodile comes w. his own damn warning tbqh. reader sippin that clown girl juice like a champ, i’m proud <3

(if u see spelling/grammar mistakes no u didn’t 💕)

it’s late at night when he arrives at your doorstep; you’re in the middle of flipping through a magazine, the ceiling fan silent and slow, the heat a little more than tolerable as you sip a cool drink. you have no intention of entertaining anyone, but when you recognize the heaviness behind the loud knocks, you make an exception.

of course, you do, there’s no other choice but to do so.

sir crocodile is a man that takes, and takes, and takes without remorse; there’s an insatiable greed — hunger, rather — that he can’t seem to satisfy. or maybe it’s that he’s been denying himself for years and it’s finally become too much for him. a small, quiet buzz infiltrates your body when you yank open the door. you half expect to find someone else there, so you stare openly, disbelief and shock holding you in place.

he peers down at you when you stand there and don’t bother to invite him inside. he knows his presence is probably more than you can handle, but he’s a selfish man and his time is very limited right now. with a subtle nod of his head, almost as if he’s telling — no, commanding — you to let him in; he’s always been like that, wordless commands that he expects to be followed without question.

if you had more sense, you’d slam the door in his face. but sadly, you don’t.

you try not to appear too affected, but as crocodile walks inside, dark eyes taking a sweeping glance around your modest living space, you suddenly remember how to speak.

“h-how did you find me?” your voice is much too soft and timid, something he clicks his tongue at, annoyance slightly bubbling underneath his skin. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in so long, or maybe it’s because he’s much too taken by your beauty — something he tried to forget but was wholly unsuccessful.

he doesn’t spare you another glance as he hangs up his coat, doesn’t bother asking for permission before he rummages through the cabinets in your kitchen to pour himself a drink, and doesn’t think anything of his overly familiar actions in a home that doesn’t belong to him when he makes himself comfortable on one of the plush armchairs in the living room.

you scurry after him, steps soft and hurried, the smoke from his cigar wafting towards you the closer you get. he tilts his head back and exhales deeply, eyes closed as he blows smoke above him — a heady, intoxicating scent that triggers memories of the nights you spent with him before.

not that it matters, but crocodile’s nerves got the best of him before he arrived; he hasn’t seen you in two and a half years, and he always wondered if someone finally snatched you up. he told himself, a long time ago, that he would wreck whatever relationship you found yourself in anyway, but the uncertainty still lingered.

do you still care for him like you claimed you always would?

it’s a question he refuses to ask you because he’s convinced that the answer will ruin his plans no matter what your response is.

when you finally snap out of that momentary stupor, you stand in front of him, eyes glossy, as if you’re holding back years’ worth of tears. but somehow, you both fall back into the same routine you swore you’d never go back to — you straddle his lap, shorts riding up your plush thighs, his golden hook cold as he uses it to lift your chin up.

you remind yourself to keep focused, to not fall for his charm again. you don’t tell him that you’ve stayed single this whole time, mostly because everyone who came into your life after him didn’t compare.

“i hate the smell of smoke,” you declare boldly, voice strained, and maybe a little needy — even though you closely press yourself to him, even though you’re shamelessly rubbing yourself against him with slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. an inescapable, irritating heat passes through him, threatening to burn him alive; already his cock gets stiff when you move on him like that. if he had a bit more sense in him, he’d just leave right now.

but old habits die hard, and for some reason, your presence alone throws him off completely.

in a good way. even though he claims otherwise.

he reminds himself that he’s only here to talk as he runs his large hand along your thigh, admiring the smoothness of your skin — the sensation oddly calming to him. the feel of his rings along the back of your thigh triggers a vivid memory that makes you inhale sharply — you remember that the last time you saw him, you were on your knees and gagging on his cock. that night he fucked you like he knew he’d never see you again; you remember how you felt like melting into him every time he buried his cock deeply in your cunt.

you want to hate him all over and never think about him again.

except you can’t, can you?

there’s a brief pause before he takes another drag from his cigar; and when he lets the silence hang for longer than necessary, you find it hard to breathe.

“and i hate liars,” crocodile says finally, conveniently forgetting that he’s a notorious liar himself. you blush and turn your face at the hidden meaning behind his words — a poor attempt to deny it — but when you look back at him, he blows smoke above your head and fixes you with a pointed look.

an absurd thought occurs, making you curl your fingers as you tug on his shirt and finally question his reappearance. jealousy coils itself tightly around your legs, making your movements sluggish and ineffective. unbecoming, utterly childish, and unavoidable — but you know he won’t listen to that sort of rhetoric. not after being away from you for so long.

you lick your lips and muster enough courage to say, “i wrote to you.” several times, in fact. you figured he was either dead or didn’t want to speak to you. a part of him wants to ask if you’re serious, but from your demure demeanor, he already knows the answer.

crocodile lets out a humorless, pitying laugh.

“it must be nice to live in delusion,” he says bitterly. you look at him, confusion evident in the way you press your lips together as your brows slope down slowly — so he just sighs, defeated by your genuine naivety that he finds terribly charming. when he drags the curve of his golden hook along your jaw, your starts beating faster than necessary, the noise so loud you can barely think straight.

he knows that when he talks to you, he has to… mind how he phrases things, and while it annoys him, he does it anyway. “do you think impel down just allows former warlords the luxury of personal mail?” it’s a rhetorical question, but you shake your head no anyway, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you grab onto his shirt again.

guilt has a nasty habit of making him more considerate than he’d care to be, especially if that guilt comes from you. it has him putting out his cigar and tossing it onto the floor; he’s not sure who kisses who first, but his lips slant against yours and move with familiarity.

your soft whimpers are a honeyed, melodic experience; they wrap around him possessively, driving him to tear through your clothes with his hook, shredding the fabric into large, unusable pieces that languidly slide off your body. a flush settles on your skin, making you feel lightheaded — each kiss more electrifying than the last as he licks inside of your mouth, tongue stroking against yours hotly.

crocodile pulls away suddenly, already feeling like the control he’s kept is practically nonexistent because your mouth is much sweeter than he remembers. your fingers tremble slightly and a breathy moan tumbles out of you when he slaps your ass hard.

the impact is a surprise — one that has you whine pitifully, arousal dripping from your slit in a way that should be embarrassing, but you’re too far gone to care. a lust-induced haze circles around him, nearly clouding his vision as you unbutton his shirt, fingers roaming against his stomach, exploring the dips and grooves between his abs. your touch is much too gentle for a man like him; he knows you deserve better, but he’s too selfish to tell you that. his cock is stiff and heavy in his pants; you relieve that ache as soon as you tug his zipper down and wrap your soft hands around him.

he watches you, amused at your focus and determination when you stroke him faster; and while he’d like to take his time with you, he doesn’t have that luxury tonight. he grabs onto your wrist, halting your movements quickly before biting your lower lip and kissing you greedily; it’s all-consuming, scalding, and possessive.

you should ask him why he’s kissing you like that when he has no intention of staying, but you know it would be an unfair question given his circumstances.

still, your curiosity eats you alive, although not for long.

he lifts you with ease and you sink down onto his thick cock, pussy tight and warm. part of what kept him sane while he was in prison was thinking of you and how much he missed being with you like this — another truth he refuses to reveal, deciding to suffer through the consequences of another failed confession on his part.

you scratch at the skin on the back of his neck the moment he bucks his hips against yours, burying most of his cock inside of you. his thrusts are quick and brutal; you do your best to match his movements, moaning loudly as he wraps an arm around you. he kisses down the length of your neck, teeth grazing your skin roughly as he bites and sucks on your skin harshly. you know there’ll be bruises and marks in the morning, but you don’t care.

all you care about is enjoying this moment with him, one that you’ll commit to memory forever.

his name comes out of your mouth sweetly, like a rhythmic and lyrical poem you crafted for him specifically. he shouldn’t care about any of that, but he can’t stop himself; and maybe he’s just tired of denying it. he tells himself that when he fucks you harder, breasts bouncing and rubbing against his hard chest; he tells himself that when he angles his hips, thrusts frenzied and powerful.

sweat glides down your skin and the heat threatens to suffocate you, both of you are panting and moaning in between kisses. you doubt your poor little heart can take much more of this, but you power through anyway. and maybe it’s because you’re tugging on his hair roughly, almost impatiently, but he takes that as a challenge, holding you steady as his cock bullies into your wet cunt. between the lewd, squelching sounds coming from your pussy and the way he simply can’t stop kissing you — like there’s a thirst he can’t seem to quench, no matter how many times he fucks you — a warmth spreads through your chest.

unbeknownst to you, though, he’s going through something similar; he realizes, belatedly, that he might not be able to let you go after this. impossible thoughts pummel through his mind, ones that he desperately tries to shove aside. intimacy and vulnerability are deadly, in his opinion, but he decides to make an exception for you — and only you.

you cum unexpectedly, hips bucking against his wildly, pussy clenching around his thick girth without remorse. you actually feel your heart skip a beat, like you’re in some romance novel, when he calls out your name — his own orgasm finding him shortly after, thrusts slowing, his cum thick and hot as it spills inside of you.

your legs turn to jelly, making it impossible to move right away, so you slump against him weakly and take deep breaths to calm yourself. he closes his eyes briefly and runs his hand up and down your back; here’s another opportune moment to say something, to say anything, but he swallows back the words, instead opting to kiss your forehead softly.

“you’re an impossible man,” you say with a sigh, blinking as you look up at him; he raises a brow at that, but doesn’t offer a rebuttal. “don’t break my heart.” you jab a finger at his chest, but your features soften when he chuckles at your demand.

another long silence follows, before crocodile speaks again, voice low, but certain as he says, “alright, i won’t.”

[heavenlyakin]

Blossoming Love Event : 20 & Crocodile

Warnings: fem!reader, flirting, college AU, jokes about hanging, my first time writing for OP so be nice or else!

--

You open your eyes, blinking a few times as you realize you’re still in the lecture hall. Your dark-haired professor still talks about World War II, his voice monotone and boring. No wonder it put you to sleep. 

Looking at your phone, you see this lecture is almost over. This class is only once a week, so it lasts three hours and it’s always so hard to get through. The last few times, you’ve fallen asleep. You haven’t even been tired but with a voice like that… you can’t help it. 

“Excuse me,” the student to your right gets your attention. You look over and recognize his face, the scar across it a notable marking. 

“Yeah?” You look up and see he’s holding out a note. Raising your eyebrows, you take it and open it. 

I’ve lost my phone number, can I have yours?

You laugh, covering your mouth when you see your professor look up at the loud noise. He goes back to reading from his slide. 

Is that really the best line you got? You write back, handing it back to him. 

He hands you another piece of paper. 

Not really, but with the way this lecture is going I either want to hang myself or take you out for coffee.

You smile, realizing he must be horrible at flirting and pick-up lines. Honestly, though, the first one got your attention whether you like to admit it or not.  

Let’s go then.

You hand him the note as you gather your bag, walking out of the lecture hall through the back door. Your heart beats with excitement as you hear his footsteps following you

[inseobts]

Hello there, dear! I hope you're having a good day!

I absolutely love your "Accidental PDA" scenarios. Could I please request a part 2? Maybe with Shanks, Mihawk, and Crocodile?

I love those silly men~♡

(Accidental) PDA

characters: shanks, usopp, mihawk, crocodile, sabo

a/n: I tried to make them longer and added usopp and sabo, hope you don’t mind

words count: around 0.5k - 0.8k each

(zoro, sanji, law, ace, kid)

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Shanks:

The tavern is loud, filled with the usual rowdiness of the Red-Haired Pirates, and you’re just trying to enjoy your drink in peace. Shanks, however, has other plans.

Without thinking, he throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you in closer as he laughs at something Benn said. It’s casual, effortless, like it’s second nature to him. You stiffen for a second, heat creeping up your neck, but Shanks doesn’t even seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t care.

The crew does, though.

Lucky Roo is grinning into his plate, Yasopp gives a low whistle, and someone in the back yells, “Oi, Captain, didn’t know you were the handsy type!”

The teasing sets off a chain reaction. More whistles, some exaggerated winks, and a few dramatic “Get a room!” comments. Shanks finally glances around, noticing the way everyone is looking at you, at him, at the way his arm is still draped over you like you belong there.

And then, the bastard smirks.

“Jealous?” he asks, completely unfazed.

You, on the other hand, feel like sinking into the floor. You push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge, only chuckles as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

“You could let go…” you mutter, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Could,” he agrees, but his arm stays right where it is, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your shoulder “But I like this better.”

The crew erupts into laughter again, and you just know they’re never letting this go.

You groan, sinking deeper into Shanks’ side as the crew erupts into even more laughter and teasing. His arm is still draped lazily over your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on your sleeve like he has all the time in the world.

“Captain, you should at least buy ’em dinner first!” someone calls out, setting off another round of whistles.

Shanks just grins “Dinner? Please, I treat ’em well every day.”

You swat at his chest, finally pushing him off you, only for him to dramatically clutch his heart like you just mortally wounded him “Ow, sweetheart, that hurt.”

“Not as much as this embarrassment,” you mutter, crossing your arms “Do you have to be like this?”

He hums, tilting his head as if considering “Hmm… yeah, I think I do.”

The crew howls at that, and Yasopp slaps the table “Damn, you’re really done for, huh, Captain?”

Shanks just leans in again, closer this time, and you can feel his warmth even though he’s not touching you anymore. His voice drops, low and teasing “I mean… you don’t seem to mind that much.”

You open your mouth to protest but what can you even say? That your face isn’t burning? That your heart isn’t racing just a little? Because that would be a lie, and everyone here would see straight through it.

So instead, you huff and grab your drink, taking a long sip to avoid answering.

Unfortunately, Shanks notices.

He chuckles, resting his chin in his palm as he watches you, utterly amused “Oh yeah,” he murmurs “You’re definitely cute when you’re flustered.”

The entire crew loses it.

── .✦ Usopp:

The two of you sit together on the deck of the Sunny, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The ship rocks gently on the waves as you both watch Luffy, Chopper, and Franky attempt to launch themselves out of a makeshift slingshot (which is absolutely going to end in disaster).

Usopp is so focused on their antics that, without thinking, he reaches out and takes your hand.

Not in a grand romantic way. Not with any intention at all. Just… naturally. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your fingers are warm, your grip instinctively curling around his. And for a few blissful minutes, he doesn’t even notice what he’s done.

Then, of course, someone has to ruin it.

Zoro snorts from where he lounges with his sword resting against his shoulder “Oi, Usopp, holding hands now? When’s the wedding?”

Usopp nearly throws your hand away like it’s on fire. His face goes red so fast it could put a cherry to shame.

He waves his hands frantically “W-WHAT?! I—HOLDING HANDS? WHO? ME? NO WAY!”

Zoro looks unimpressed “You literally just were.”

Luffy grins wide “Ohhh! Are you guys dating? Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Usopp flails, looking at you for help, only to find you laughing.

You’re not embarrassed. You’re not panicking. You’re just sitting there, watching him combust, an amused glint in your eyes.

Oh, this is bad.

Sanji smirks as he lights a cigarette “My, my, Usopp. Didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

Usopp’s hands are everywhere, gesturing wildly as he tries to dig himself out of this nightmare “I—I wasn’t—I mean, I was, but I wasn’t—”

Robin chuckles behind her book “Don’t worry. It was cute.”

Usopp makes a strangled noise that is somewhere between a squawk and a plea to be thrown into the ocean. His heart is about to explode. He can’t even look at you now.

And then you—still so infuriatingly calm—just shrug and say “Well, I don’t mind.”

Usopp forgets how to breathe.

Chopper gasps “So you are dating?!”

Usopp immediately short-circuits “THAT’S NOT WHAT THEY MEANT—WAIT, WHAT DID YOU MEAN?!”

You just laugh again, standing up and stretching like this is the most casual thing in the world “I’ll let you figure that out.”

Then you walk away, leaving a completely fried Usopp sitting there, hands in his hair, while the rest of the crew loses their minds.

Luffy grins “I think you just got confessed to.”

Usopp screams.

He stares after you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Sanji exhales a puff of smoke, looking far too entertained “Well? You gonna sit there like an idiot or go after them?”

Usopp smacks his hands against his face “G-go after them? WHAT FOR?!”

Luffy tilts his head “Because they just confessed?”

“THEY DID NOT CONFESS!” Usopp shrieks, pointing wildly in the direction you disappeared. “THAT WAS VAGUE! THAT COULD MEAN ANYTHING!”

Franky crosses his arms “Could mean they like you.”

Chopper nods “Or that they wouldn’t mind if you liked them.”

Robin smiles behind her book “Or that they’re waiting for you to make the next move.”

Usopp is malfunctioning. His brain is overheating. This is worse than any battle, worse than any enemy encounter—this is romantic ambiguity, and it is killing him.

Zoro sighs, clearly losing patience “Look, either go ask them what they meant or sit here and keep yelling about it. Either way, shut up.”

Usopp grabs his head “This is too much. This is a nightmare. I need—I need time to process—”

Nami rolls her eyes “If you take too long, they might think you don’t care.”

Usopp bolts upright.

He cares. Oh, he cares. The thought of you thinking otherwise makes his stomach twist into knots.

He groans dramatically “UGH—FINE! I’LL GO!”

The crew cheers. He glares at them “If I die of embarrassment, I’m haunting you all.”

Luffy beams “Can ghosts hold hands?”

Usopp sprints before he can get sucked into another round of teasing.

── .✦ Mihawk:

The castle is quiet, save for the clinking of cutlery against fine china. You, Mihawk, and Perona are seated at the grand dining table, enjoying, or rather, trying to enjoy, dinner.

Everything is peaceful until your fork slips, clattering against your plate before tumbling off the table’s edge. Without thinking, Mihawk moves.

In one smooth motion, he catches the utensil mid-air, his fingers brushing against yours as he hands it back. It’s nothing, barely even a touch, but the air shifts immediately.

Perona, halfway through taking a bite, freezes.

Her wide eyes flick between you and Mihawk, and a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her face “Oh?” she sings, resting her chin in her hands “That was… interesting.”

You blink, confused “What?”

She grins “Didn’t know Hawky was the touchy type.”

Mihawk sighs, unimpressed “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But Perona isn’t letting this go “Ohhh, don’t try to act all cool—I saw that.” She points her fork at him accusingly “You totally just pulled a ‘casually affectionate, but I won’t admit it’ move.”

You scoff, shaking your head “It was just a fork—”

“It was not just a fork!” Perona interrupts dramatically “He caught it! He touched your hand! He lingered!”

Mihawk pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every life decision that led to this moment “This is absurd.”

Perona leans in with a wicked grin “Admit it. You like them.”

Mihawk finally meets your gaze, and for just a second, so brief you might have imagined it, you see something flicker in his eyes. Something unreadable. Something dangerous.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looks away “You’re being insufferable” he mutters to Perona, taking a slow sip of his wine.

She cackles, delighted “And you’re avoiding the question!”

You, caught between amusement and second-hand embarrassment, shake your head “Alright, that’s enough. Can we just eat in peace?”

Mihawk exhales through his nose, giving you the faintest nod. But as you pick up your fork again, you feel his gaze lingering just a second too long.

And this time, you are the one avoiding eye contact.

Perona is still grinning, twirling her fork between her fingers as she watches you both like a cat who just found the perfect toy to play with “You’re blushingggg” she sing-songs.

You nearly choke on your drink “I am not.”

She gasps dramatically “Oh my God, you so are! This is the best day of my life.”

Mihawk sighs, setting his glass down with an audible clink “Perona.”

Something about the way he says her name, low, warning, should be enough to shut her up. Should be. But Perona, being Perona, just grins wider “What?” she asks innocently, resting her chin in her hands “I’m just making an observation. It’s not my fault that you—”

Mihawk lifts a hand, and for a moment, you think he’s about to cut her off with a sharp retort. Instead, his fingers brush against the base of his wine glass, moving it an inch to the side. A subtle shift. A deliberate one.

And then you realise his gaze hasn’t left you since this conversation started.

Your breath catches. It’s not dramatic, not obvious, but it’s enough.

Enough for Perona’s eyes to widen.

“Oh.” She leans back, eyebrows raising “Wait. Hold on. Wait.”

Mihawk finally looks at her, his usual unreadable expression in place “What?”

Perona points between you both “This is real, isn’t it?”

You stiffen “What is real?”

She gasps again, clutching her chest like she just uncovered the biggest secret of the century “You! Him! This! Oh my God, I was just teasing, but you’re actually—”

Mihawk exhales sharply, reaching for his wine again “Perona.”

“What! You can’t expect me not to react!” She gestures wildly “I live in this creepy castle with you, and nothing fun ever happens! Of course I’m going to enjoy this!”

You groan, rubbing your temples “Perona, I swear—”

But she’s already giggling, positively thrilled “Oh, this is so cute. Mihawk, are you going to deny it? Hm?” She bats her lashes dramatically “Gonna tell me I’m imagining things? That you don’t look at them like that?”

Mihawk doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he sets his glass down, levels Perona with a stare so sharp it could probably cut through steel, and says, voice smooth as ever “Mind your business.”

Perona lets out a scream of pure, unfiltered excitement.

── .✦ Crocodile:

The casino is buzzing, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and the murmur of high-stakes deals. You walk beside Crocodile as he moves through the crowd, his presence alone enough to part people like the Red Sea.

It’s nothing new, he’s intimidating without trying, and people know better than to get in his way. But as the two of you step toward a private lounge, the crowd thickens, bodies pressing in too close. Instinct takes over.

A firm hand lands on your lower back.

It’s subtle, barely even a touch, but the warmth of it sends a jolt through your spine. Crocodile doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even glance at you—he just guides you forward, fingers pressing lightly, keeping you close as he moves with that same effortless authority.

You don’t even have time to process it before you hear a quiet, amused scoff.

Daz Bones, walking a few steps behind, raises a brow “Didn’t think you were the chivalrous type.”

Crocodile barely reacts. If anything, he looks bored, taking a slow drag of his cigar before exhaling, smoke curling through the air “Shut it.”

Daz, to his credit, doesn’t push. But the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s holding back a smirk.

You glance up at Crocodile, expecting him to move his hand away now that the crowd has thinned. He doesn’t.

In fact, his fingers shift just slightly, a feather-light movement that sends a slow, creeping heat to your face.

Daz chuckles under his breath “Didn’t peg you as the clingy type, either.”

Crocodile stops walking.

The air changes.

It’s not obvious, no outburst, no harsh words, but the shift is immediate. Tension crackles, and for a split second, it feels like the temperature in the room just dropped.

Daz, wise as he is, raises his hands in mock surrender “Forget I said anything.”

Crocodile doesn’t even spare him a glance. His hand, however, still doesn’t move.

You swallow hard “Uh. You can—”

“Stay close,” he interrupts, voice low and even “People stare too much.”

It’s a flimsy excuse. You both know it.

But as his fingers press just a little more firmly against your back, guiding you forward once more, you decide not to call him out on it.

You don’t say anything. Not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t trust yourself to.

Crocodile’s hand is still there, still resting on your lower back like it belongs, and every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of the heat seeping through his glove. You try not to think about it, try to focus on anything else, but the way his fingers occasionally press just a little firmer, like he’s keeping track of you, making sure you’re right where he wants you, has your thoughts spinning.

Daz Bones says nothing more, though you can feel his amusement. The bastard’s probably enjoying this way too much.

Finally, Crocodile leads you into the private lounge, away from the crowd. The moment you step inside, you expect him to pull away. To let go.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he moves past you to the plush seating area, finally sliding his hand away slowly, like he’s reluctant to do so.

You exhale, a little too sharply. His golden eyes flick to you, sharp and assessing.

“You nervous?”

You scoff, folding your arms to hide the way your hands might be shaking just a little “Please. Why would I be nervous?”

Crocodile doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling smoke in a way that feels almost deliberate. Calculated. Then, just as smoothly, he reaches for the glass of whiskey set out for him.

“You tell me,” he says finally, voice smooth as silk “You’re the one who went quiet.”

Your jaw clenches “You’re imagining things.”

He hums, low and amused “Am I?”

Before you can fire back, the lounge door swings open, and one of his subordinates steps in with a report. The atmosphere shifts immediately, Crocodile’s expression goes from teasing to cold, all business. He gestures for you to sit beside him on the couch, as if nothing just happened, as if he didn’t have his hand on you like a silent claim minutes ago.

You’re still reeling, still trying to get a grip on yourself, but you move toward him anyway, settling next to him as he begins discussing plans.

And then, so casually you almost don’t notice—his arm drapes along the back of the couch.

Close.

Too close.

Not touching, but close enough that if you shifted even slightly, his fingers would graze your shoulder.

It’s intentional. It has to be.

You glance at him, searching for any hint of smugness, but he’s unreadable. Just focused, listening to the report with that same cold indifference.

But when you shift in your seat, just slightly, testing—his fingers twitch.

Your stomach flips.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge it. But that single, almost imperceptible movement is enough to confirm it:

Crocodile is absolutely doing this on purpose now.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo considers himself a composed man. A logical man. He doesn’t fluster easily.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Until you came along and ruined everything.

It happens on a regular afternoon at the Revolutionary Army base. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and Sabo is absolutely not panicking…yet.

The two of you are sitting together, going over some mission reports. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. Just work.

And then it happens.

Without thinking, Sabo rests his hand on your knee.

Not in a weird way. Not in an intentional way. Just… naturally. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You don’t move. You don’t even react.

Sabo doesn’t notice.

But Koala does.

She grins.

“Wow, Sabo, I didn’t know you were so affectionate.”

Sabo blinks “Huh?”

Koala gestures at your knee, where his hand is still resting comfortably.

He follows her gaze. Sees it. Processes it. Immediately short-circuits.

His hand jumps away like he’s been burned. He chokes on air. His soul leaves his body.

“I—THAT WAS—WAIT—” He scrambles for an excuse, for an explanation, for anything that isn’t I just did that on instinct like a lovesick idiot.

Koala smirks “Oh, don’t stop on my account.”

Sabo malfunctions. He turns to you, desperate for backup, only to find you watching him with amusement.

Oh, this is bad.

Hack strolls by, raising an eyebrow “You two finally together?”

Sabo dies on the spot.

“WE’RE NOT—” He practically explodes, looking at you with betrayal when you don’t immediately deny it.

You shrug “I don’t mind.”

The world ends.

Koala gasps dramatically “So you wouldn’t mind if Sabo kept touching you?”

Sabo chokes “KOALA.”

You just smile “Nope.”

Sabo’s brain shuts down. His face burns. His entire life flashes before his eyes.

Koala grins “Sabo, you gonna sit there or take their hand again?”

Sabo does what any rational, composed second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army would do in this situation.

He runs.

Straight out of the room, down the hall, past a very confused Dragon, who barely lifts an eyebrow as Sabo barrels past him like he’s fleeing for his life.

He does not stop until he’s outside, hands on his knees, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

“You okay there, Chief of Staff?”

Sabo jumps.

Koala is standing behind him, arms crossed, looking way too smug.

He straightens immediately, clearing his throat “I—I just needed fresh air.”

“Right,” Koala says, unconvinced “Totally not because you just had a full-blown crisis over a little hand placement.”

Sabo groans, burying his face in his hands “I wasn’t thinking! It was instinct! And then—and then they said—” His voice breaks. He can’t even say it out loud.

Koala grins “That they don’t mind?”

Sabo melts into the floor.

She claps him on the back “Come on, Sabo. This is a good thing.”

“How is this a good thing?!” He looks at her, betrayed “I made an absolute fool of myself!”

“No, you just made it obvious.”

Sabo freezes.

Koala raises an eyebrow, like she can see the realization hitting him in real time “Wait. Don’t tell me you actually thought you were being subtle this whole time?”

Sabo has to sit down.

He buries his face in his hands “This is a nightmare.”

Koala laughs “You’re so dramatic. Just go talk to them.”

“I can’t just—just walk up to them after that!” Sabo gestures wildly “What if they were just teasing me? What if they didn’t actually mean it? What if—”

“Why don’t you ask them instead of spiraling?”

Sabo hates how logical that is.

Koala grins “They’re still inside, you know.”

Sabo grits his teeth. Stands up. Forces himself to breathe.

And then, before he can overthink himself into oblivion, he marches back inside.

You glance up when he approaches “Hey, you okay? You ran out of here pretty fast.”

Sabo feels his entire existence collapse.

But he forces himself to focus, to stay calm. He sits down across from you, clasping his hands together like he’s about to deliver a serious political statement.

“…Did you mean it?”

You blink “Mean what?”

He swallows hard “That you don’t mind.”

There’s a pause.

Then you smile, tilting your head “Yeah. I meant it.”

Sabo forgets how to breathe.

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand “Why? Do you mind?”

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. He is malfunctioning at maximum capacity.

“…No.”

You grin “Good.”

Then, so casually, you reach over and take his hand this time.

Sabo dies.

[badgerbl00d]

this is so cute… gonna go bust out my tiger blanket rn

Random Things I Think Crocodile Does

This isn’t really anything special it’s just my word vomit. As always, MENA!Croc 💖💖 my beloved. No defined gender for reader. This is just random ass hcs for funsies kinda crack ngl.

All below!

Snores loudly in bed. The cigars are catching up to him. Refuses to get help for it or acknowledge he may have a snoring problem.

Falls asleep really quickly. Like. Anywhere. If you two are sitting on the couch watching a movie, he’ll fall asleep ten minutes in (if you’re lucky enough to have his attention that long) and then wake up when the credits roll. He’ll sleep through a damn war, but suddenly the credits are up and he’ll say “wow, what a great movie.”

Pistachio man. Loves pistachio ice cream. Loves pistachio ashta pancakes. Loves pistachio anything.

I mean in general he looks like he’d love eating mixed nuts but I think he’d enjoy pistachios the most.

Drinks tea very very dark with no sugar.

OKAY SO IM NOT SURE IF YALL WILL UNDERSTAND I THINK THIS IS LIKE AN IMMIGRANT OR POC EXPERIENCE BUT THOSE THICK ASS BLANKETS?? WITH LIKE THE PRINTS ON THEM??? He has one, it’s blue and has tigers on it. (Why is it always tigers?)

Doesn’t like you touching the thermostat in true daddy fashion.

But like in the opposite way, I think his DF makes it so he is immune to the heat so he cranks that shit up and you’re sweating buckets.

Likewise could you imagine him being a baby the minute the temperature drops a bit?? 😭😭 he’s wrapped up in twenty layers because it’s 68 degrees and he’s convinced he’ll freeze to death.

Don’t bother playing Monopoly with him.

The old man who squints his eyes and puts his phone to his face to read anything.

Guy who sends long ass voice messages/voicemails to you, count how many times he almost hacks his lungs out.

Omg like my personal favorite thing… him slipping into an Arabic accent or using Arabic whenever he has a brain fart on an English word.

[st4rpiece]

wearing someone else’s jacket

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji, ace, law, kidd, crocodile x reader summary: the guys reaction to you wearing someone else's jacket CW: fluff, cursing, slight violence

One Piece Masterlist

had this one sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. I just couldn't figure out usopp's part but it's all good lol.

i have a few ideas but i don't know which to tackle first, so i guess i'll do another poll since that helped me last time.

anyways i hope you guys enjoyed!!

[innerfare]

Kisses - Part 2 

Summary: How do they kiss you?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Crocodile, Mihawk, Corazon, Smoker, Marco

Genre: Fluff, Slight Smut

CW: Slight Smut so I'll say NSFW // messy kisses, hickies, brief implication of oral sex

——— 

Shanks:

You’d better like the taste of liquor, weed, and cigarettes because that’s what this man tastes like. And you know that’s what this man tastes like because his tongue is always in your mouth, his scruff pushing against your cheeks. He has no sense of propriety, and you’ve probably made out in front of the crew more times than you haven’t. You’ve also made out on the beach, in countless dark alleyways, and just about anywhere else he can convince you to have him. He’s the type to shove his tongue down your throat, but what he really wants is for you to shove yours down his throat. 

Beckman:

Doesn’t kiss you in public (or show any affection in public, really). You’re the type of couple that nobody can tell is together. But when you’re behind closed doors, you’ll receive quite a few different types of kisses: the deep and sensual kisses that always lead to something more, the slow kisses down your neck when he’s tired but wants you so bad, the lingering kisses he places on either your cheek or hand when his mind is elsewhere, the sweet kisses on your forehead before he rolls out of bed in the morning. And when his mind is elsewhere, the best way to get him out of his head is to kiss up his biceps and across his broad shoulders. 

Crocodile:

His kisses are hot and heavy with the expectation of something more. He’s rough about it, too, grabbing your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks as he steers your lips onto his. He rarely kisses you outside of the bedroom. Doesn’t do sweet pecks on the lips, doesn’t kiss anything better. Although, on a few occasions (you can count them on one hand over the course of more than a decade), he has slipped into bed late at night and pressed a warm kiss onto your shoulder. It doesn’t sound like much, but by Crocodile’s standards, a kiss on the shoulder is a marriage proposal. Will also allow you to kiss anywhere on his body. 

Mihawk:

So sensual when he kisses you. Mihawk is an incredible kisser, thanks to a lot of practice in his youth, though these days he’s far more picky about who he chooses to kiss. Almost always has his hands on your face when he does it. Often runs his tongue across your lips before pushing it into your mouth. Will talk to you between kisses, telling you how much he missed you and calling you, “my love,” or, “my little bird.” Very into hickies, particularly in private places. Goes a little crazy if you kiss his hands, especially if you play with them first (foreplay is important). 

Corazon:

A very energetic kisser in that he just gets so excited to be able to kiss you that he can hardly contain himself, his body practically vibrating with eagerness. He always grins into it, and he never misses an opportunity to pick you up while his lips are on yours. He’s kind of inconsistent about tongue because he doesn’t want to come on too strong but he’s also just so overwhelmed by the fact that he’s kissing you and you’re kissing him back that he can’t keep his tongue out of your mouth. 

Smoker:

He’s actually such a sweet kisser- sweet in general, not that the world knows. When he comes home from work, he leaves his weapons at the door, and that includes the tough guy persona (he’s still tough as nails, sure, but he’ll make dinner with you and sit in the bathtub). He always places a sweet kiss on your lips when he walks through the door, though it definitely escalates if he’s been away for more than a week (so basically, it always escalates). He places a sweet kiss on your lips basically every fifteen minutes you’re alone together. When it is heavier, he’s measured in his use of tongue. And the way to his heart is to kiss your way down his muscular chest.  

Marco:

It always starts small. He doesn’t intend to escalate, just sees that you’re walking away and wants to give you a quick kiss before you’re parted. But then he’s pushing you into the wall and you’re running your hands up and down his chest and he’s moaning into the kiss and- well, it never ends small. If he gives you a peck on the lips, within just a few seconds, he is groping you. His kisses often feel desperate, as if he’s worried he won’t be able to do it again, and have a way of lingering on your lips long after they’re finished. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[arkaiveofurown]

Law, ace, sabo, and any other op men x f!reader who is very independent and never asks for help, comes to them for help.

I hope this is okay (I’m always scared to send requests to people)

The First Step

Pairings: Crocodile x Reader, Sabo x Reader, Law x Reader, Ace x Reader

You're known for your strength, your silence, and your ability to handle anything alone. Help is a word you never utter—until you find yourself standing before him.

Word Count: ~1,000 - 2,000 words

tags: fluff, pre-relationship

my masterlist here ♡

----

a/n: hi, thank you for your request. your request is definitely more than ok so need no be afraid-- i really appreciate you taking the time to send it. i've decided to make it pre-relationship and i hope that's alright with you. tysm :)

----

Crocodile

You had been working under Crocodile for over a year now. As one of the few operatives trusted enough to work directly with him, you executed your tasks with ruthless efficiency—never faltering, never complaining.

That’s what he wanted, right? Precision. Loyalty. Silence.

So when something went wrong—a mission in the capital city of Arabasta, Alubarna, that left you limping and coughing up desert dust—you said nothing. You filed the report, cleaned your wounds, and showed up the next day like nothing happened.

But Crocodile noticed.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice sharp, neutral. “Come in. Sit.”

You did, stiffly, eyes straight ahead. He took a drag of his cigar, exhaled slowly, then narrowed his eyes at you.

“What happened in Alubarna?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you replied quickly.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Your fingers twitched against your lap. You didn’t answer. You never lied to him, but this felt dangerously close.

“I read the report,” he said coolly. “Then I heard from someone else that you were bleeding through your uniform.”

You winced, jaw tightening.

“I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark. Especially by my right hand.”

You kept your gaze locked on the floor. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“It’s important to me,” he snapped, voice low but dangerous. “You think I’m so unreachable that you can’t come to me when you’re hurt?”

That hit you like a slap.

You looked up, stunned. “I—what?”

Crocodile's eyes narrowed. “You do everything perfectly. You never complain. Never ask for help. What is it? You think I’d punish you for showing weakness?”

“I just… I didn’t think it was my place.”

A moment of silence passed. Crocodile sat back, the frustration on his face softening—not by much, but enough to make your chest tighten.

“You’re not just another Baroque agent to me,” he said, quieter now. “You think I’d entrust you with what I do if I didn’t value you?”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He looked away, exhaled smoke, then added, “I’m not good at this kind of thing. I’m used to being feared. But I don’t want that from you.”

“I didn’t think you… noticed. Not like that.”

He chuckled bitterly. “Of course I notice. You think I haven’t watched how hard you work? How careful you are to never cross a line?”

You swallowed hard, feeling something shift in the air.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you whispered.

He scoffed. “That’s your problem. You underestimate yourself.”

You looked at him—really looked. His face was still stern, but his voice had lost its edge. The cigar burned low between his fingers, forgotten.

He looked at you—really looked—and his voice dropped to something almost unrecognizable: something vulnerable.

“I don’t want to be someone you look past.”

Your heartbeat thudded loud in your ears.

“…Alright,” you said, softly. “Next time… I’ll come to you.”

He met your eyes, and for once, he didn’t look like a warlord. He looked like a man who’d been waiting for you to say that.

The silence between you wasn’t sharp anymore. It lingered like smoke in warm air—thick with things unsaid, but understood.

He leaned back, gaze steady. “Good,” he murmured. “About damn time."

----

You’d faced worse. Bruised ribs. Sabotaged missions. Death threats disguised as trade proposals.

But somehow, knocking on his office door had your hands sweating.

This time, you weren’t bleeding. You weren’t limping. But your pride? That had taken a hit. The mission had gone sideways—intel was incomplete, agents scattered, and now Baroque Works was down a shipment with the client breathing down everyone's neck.

You’d stood outside his door for ten minutes before knocking.

No turning back.

“Come in,” Crocodile's voice called, deeper than usual.

You stepped inside, shut the door quietly, and stood there, hands at your sides.

He glanced up from his desk, cigar already lit. “Report.”

You hesitated.

Then, before your nerves could get the better of you: “I need help.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Crocodile blinked. Slowly, the corner of his mouth curled into something dangerously close to amusement. “Say that again.”

You fought the urge to scowl. “Don’t make me.”

“No, no—this is historic,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “My right hand. The model of control. Finally admitting they’re not invincible.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you want details or not?”

He chuckled—a real one this time, low and gravelly. “Go on.”

You stepped closer, setting a map and two sealed reports on his desk. “The client’s contact wasn’t where we expected. One of our junior agents panicked and blew our cover. I managed to retrieve most of the shipment, but I couldn’t get through the blockade on my own.”

Crocodile scanned the documents in silence.

You watched him quietly, noting the tension in his brow, the way his fingers tapped once against the edge of the paper—thinking.

When he finally looked at you, the usual steel in his eyes was tempered by something softer.

“You did the right thing,” he said simply. “Coming to me.”

You exhaled. “Still feels weird.”

“It should,” he said. “You're not the type to lean on anyone.”

You gave a half-smile, more vulnerable than you'd like. “I didn’t think you'd ever want me to.”

He let the silence sit for a moment. Then he stood, coming around the desk.

“I told you before,” he said, voice low, “I notice more than you think.”

You stiffened slightly as he stopped beside you—not looming, not imposing. Just there. Steady.

“I’ve watched you carry the weight of this operation like it’s your burden alone,” he continued. “But I didn’t bring you in to break you.”

You looked up, heart skipping.

“I brought you in because you’re the only one I trust to stand at my side.”

The air between you grew still.

“And if that means helping you when you ask for it—” he paused, eyes gleaming with dry amusement, “—well. I suppose I’ll survive the shock.”

You huffed, finally letting out a quiet laugh. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, and the smirk that followed was slow and lethal and unfairly handsome.

But then he softened again, just enough to make your chest ache.

“I’m glad you came.”

This time, you didn’t look away. “I am too.”

He didn’t say anything more—didn’t need to. His gaze lingered just long enough to make your stomach flutter.

And as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you at the door.

“Next time,” he said, “don’t wait so long.”

You looked back, smiling faintly. “You planning to make a habit of helping me?”

That smirk again—this time more amused than smug. “Only if you plan to keep coming back.”

Your cheeks burned.

You nodded once, then slipped out the door, heart pounding harder than it ever had on a battlefield.

And behind that heavy door, Crocodile exhaled a slow breath, watching the space you’d left behind.

The warlord wasn’t used to softness. But with you?

He might just learn.

----

Law

You were standing on the deck, wiping the sweat from your forehead after a particularly grueling day of training. The pirates had spent hours practicing, and while you were proud of your strength, it was clear that you were pushing your limits.

But when you accidentally brushed against a sharp edge on the ship, you barely flinched. The cut wasn’t deep, just a scrape along your arm, but you knew you could handle it. You didn’t need anyone else to see it, least of all Law.

You quickly glanced around, making sure no one was watching. As the ship creaked and groaned around you, you quietly slipped off to the side, your back against a barrel. You rummaged through your bag and found some bandages and antiseptic, tending to the wound as best as you could. The sting was sharp, but you fought the urge to wince, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.

Your hands trembled slightly as you wrapped the bandage around your arm, but you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t need anyone's help. You’d been fine before, and you would be fine now.

You felt a small sense of satisfaction when you finished. Everything was under control. Your pride was still intact.

That was, until you heard a familiar voice behind you, icy but tinged with concern.

“(Y/N),” Law said, his tone sharp, “What are you doing?”

You froze. You hadn’t heard him approach. You quickly tried to hide your bandaged arm, stepping a little to the side. “Nothing,” you said, your voice a little too quick. “Just… just making sure everything’s alright.”

Law’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, looking you over in that calculating way of his. He wasn’t fooled. “Turn around.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m fine, Law. Really.”

“You’re not fine.” His voice was firm, cold, but there was an underlying concern that made your chest tighten. He stepped forward again, and you found yourself taking a small step back, unwilling to reveal what you were trying so hard to keep hidden.

“I told you before,” Law said, his voice lowering as he grabbed your wrist gently, “Stop hiding things from me.”

You looked up at him, and for a moment, you wanted to argue. You wanted to tell him you could handle it on your own, that it wasn’t a big deal. But when his gaze softened just the slightest, you felt something in you snap.

Reluctantly, you turned around, pulling your sleeve up to reveal the bandaged wound. Law didn’t say anything at first, his eyes scanning the bandage. When he looked back up at you, there was a flash of frustration in his gaze, but it quickly shifted into something gentler.

“You really should’ve come to me,” he said quietly, his hand reaching for your arm without hesitation. “It’s not just about being strong. It’s about being smart.”

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of guilt. “I didn’t want to bother anyone. It’s just a small injury.”

“It’s not small if you ignore it,” Law replied, his voice quieter but still stern. “You don’t always have to carry everything on your own, (Y/N). You know that, right?”

You looked down at your feet, unable to meet his eyes for a moment. The pride in your chest felt heavy, but so did the realization that maybe you didn’t need to shoulder everything alone.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice barely audible.

Law’s expression softened, and after a beat, he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s alright. But next time… come to me first. Got it?”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words.

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. Can I really do that..?

----

It had been a few days since the incident with your arm, and while you had hoped the minor injury would have healed completely, your body was starting to feel the strain from pushing it too hard. You’d been working through the discomfort, training like usual, but now, a sharp pain had settled in your back—something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

At first, it was a dull ache, easy enough to shrug off. But with each movement, the pain grew sharper, more pronounced. The muscles in your back were stiff, and the pain was starting to creep down into your legs. You winced as you tried to shift your weight, but the strain made it harder to stand tall.

“Just a muscle strain,” you muttered under your breath, trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t a big deal. “It’ll pass.”

You attempted to stretch out your back, but the movement only made it worse. The pain flared up with every motion, leaving you gasping for air, but you didn’t let yourself crumble. You wouldn’t ask for help. You couldn’t.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, but the words felt like a lie now. You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the flare of pain, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Law’s voice echoed in your mind—his words from the other day. “You don’t always have to do everything by yourself.”

The pride you carried, believing you could handle everything alone, had kept you from asking for help. But now, your body was telling you otherwise. You couldn’t push through this. It hurt too much, and the longer you ignored it, the worse it became.

And there was no one else you trusted more than Law. You had seen how he effortlessly took charge in situations, how he always knew what to do, how his calmness could instantly soothe any tension. He had a way of making everything feel manageable, and right now, you needed that.

The thought of asking for help had always felt like admitting weakness, but you realized that you weren’t invincible. The truth was, you could lean on someone—on him.

With a deep breath, you stood up, wincing as the pain flared. Slowly, you made your way toward the infirmary, your footsteps faltering with each one.

When you entered, Law was standing by the desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper. His head snapped up as he heard the door creak open, and his gaze immediately softened when he saw the way you were holding yourself, stiff and pained.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice already low with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, then exhaled sharply, your pride finally crumbling under the weight of the pain. "I… need your help."

There was a pause. Law raised an eyebrow, then stood up from his desk, his eyes scanning you carefully.

"You really should've said something sooner," he said, his voice tinged with something softer than usual, but not unkind. He was serious, but you could hear the care in his words.

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassment at how long you had let it go. "I didn't want to bother you," you said quietly. "I thought I could handle it."

He stepped toward you, a small but warm smile curving at the corners of his lips. "You don’t bother me, (Y/N)." The smile was faint, but it was genuine. "Now, let's get you sitting down."

You felt a wave of relief flood through you at his calm demeanor. The tightness in your chest, the worry that you had burdened him, seemed to ease with each step closer he took. You lowered yourself carefully onto the nearby chair, and Law gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm yet gentle.

"You've been pushing yourself too hard," he said quietly as he began to carefully assess your back.

You winced slightly when he pressed his hand against the tense muscles of your back, but his touch was soothing. He didn’t rush, moving with careful precision, and you couldn’t help but let out a small sigh as the pain began to ease under his hands.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, not quite sure why you felt the need to apologize, but the words left your lips nonetheless.

He shook his head, his smile still soft. "There’s no need to apologize. You’re human, (Y/N). It’s okay to ask for help sometimes."

The words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the remnants of the tension that had been holding you together. And for the first time in a long while, you realized how much you’d needed that reassurance—not just for the pain in your back, but for the ache in your heart.

You met his gaze, the closeness between you suddenly feeling charged in a way you hadn’t expected. His hands, still on your back, were gentle, caring, and something about the way he was looking at you made your heart flutter.

“You really don’t mind helping me?” you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

Law’s eyes softened, and his fingers paused for a brief moment. “Of course not. I care about you, (Y/N). I wouldn’t want you suffering alone.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the sincerity in his voice, and the distance between you seemed to shrink. Something stirred deep within you, something you had been trying to ignore—an emotion you didn’t know how to define.

As he continued to tend to your back, you couldn’t help but feel a growing warmth, not just from his touch, but from his words. You had never been one to rely on anyone, but in this moment, with Law so close, you realized how much you wanted to. And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to do everything on your own after all.

When he finished, he gave you a soft look, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled back.

“You’re all set. Rest for now,” he said, his smile now a little more knowing, a little warmer. "I’ll be here if you need anything else."

And as you watched him step back, his calm gaze still locked with yours, you felt your heart beat a little faster. There was something in his eyes—something that made you realize that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than you had ever expected.

----

Sabo

You had been a member of the Revolutionary Army for a while now, and though you were always busy, there was a sense of purpose that drove you. Still, when the pressure started building up, you did your best to shoulder it alone. You could always rely on your fellow soldiers—Koala, Hack, even a few others—but you never went to Sabo.

Sabo, the Chief of Staff, had more than enough to manage. He was already overseeing countless operations, leading the army with so much weight on his shoulders. You could never bring yourself to ask him for help. There was too much on his plate already.

It had become routine: whenever you needed something, you turned to Koala, Hack, or another member. You didn’t want to burden Sabo with your problems, no matter how small they seemed.

But one day, you noticed Sabo was watching you from the corner of his eye, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a hint of concern. You continued working, pretending not to notice, but it wasn’t long before Sabo approached.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice softer than usual. "I've noticed something."

You looked up, momentarily startled by his approach. "What do you mean?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

“You’ve been asking everyone else for help, but you never come to me. Why is that?" Sabo’s eyes met yours, his usual smile absent, replaced by a slight frown. “I thought we were close.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but the truth had always been hard to voice.

"I… I just didn’t want to trouble you," you confessed, lowering your gaze.

Sabo’s expression softened, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Dont you trust me enough to ask for help?"

The words stung more than you expected. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—it was just that you didn’t want him to feel like you were relying on him for everything. But seeing the hurt in his eyes made you realize how much you had unknowingly pushed him away.

"No, Sabo," you said, voice trembling slightly. You met his eyes now, trying to find the right words. "It’s not that I don’t trust you. I trust you more than anyone. It’s just that… I didn’t want to pile my stuff on top of everything else you already carry." You hesitated, reaching out for his arm. "I guess… I was trying to protect you from having to take on my problems, too."

Sabo’s gaze softened, though there was still an underlying sadness there. He stepped closer to you, his tone gentler now. "I understand wanting to carry your own weight, but you’re not in this alone. I’m here for you, (Y/N)." His voice held that sincerity you knew well, the kind that always made you feel safe. "You don’t have to protect me from you. I want to be there for you, even if it’s just to help with something small."

You swallowed hard, the words you had been holding back finally surfacing. "I’m sorry, Sabo," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just didn’t want to make you feel like you had to take care of me all the time. Like I was some kind of burden."

Sabo’s face softened as he reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "You’re never a burden, (Y/N)." His thumb brushed against your skin in a quiet gesture of comfort. "I want to be the one you come to. Don’t keep pushing me away." He gave you a small, reassuring smile, though his eyes still held a hint of sadness. "If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask me. I’m here."

You took a deep breath, your heart racing slightly as his words sank in. Slowly, you nodded, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension start to melt away. "I’ll remember that," you murmured.

----

The room was quieter than usual. You stood outside the strategy office, one hand hovering near the doorframe. Inside, Sabo was alone—no advisors, no briefings, no urgent calls for deployment.

You exhaled.

It wasn’t like you to hesitate, but everything between you and Sabo lately had felt… different. Ever since that conversation, the way he looked at you had shifted. Softer. Closer. And now, the weight you’d been carrying—internal, emotional—refused to stay buried any longer.

You knocked once.

He looked up immediately. “(Y/N)?”

You stepped inside, trying not to fidget. “Are you busy?”

“No. Come in.” He sat up straighter, eyes narrowing slightly in concern. “Something wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you crossed the room, slowly, then stood a few feet from his desk. You didn’t sit. You just looked at him.

“…Something’s been bothering me,” you said, voice quiet but steady. “And I kept trying to sort it out on my own, but I couldn’t. So… I figured this time, maybe I’d ask you.”

Sabo blinked. The surprise was subtle, but it was there. You never came to him for help—until now.

“I… have to make a decision,” you said finally. “One I’m not sure I can make alone.”

That got his full attention. “Okay,” he said, setting his pen down. “Talk to me.”

You licked your lips. “There’s been talk about shifting personnel to the Southern front. Koala said I’d be a strong candidate to lead a small recon unit there. It’s a temporary post, but…”

Sabo’s brows furrowed. “You’d be gone for months.”

You nodded. “It’s a good opportunity. I know the terrain, and I’ve worked with the scouts before. But… it’s dangerous. And it means leaving this base. Leaving—” You stopped.

Sabo waited. Gave you space. Let the silence stretch, as if to say take your time.

You inhaled, then forced yourself to meet his eyes. “I always told myself I could handle things alone. That if I made my own calls, bore my own risks, I wouldn’t owe anyone. Wouldn’t need to ask. But… this one? I don’t know what the right choice is. And I keep thinking about what you said.”

Sabo leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “What part?”

“That I keep pushing you away.” Your voice faltered for half a second. “So I’m here. I’m not pushing you this time. I’m asking: what do you think I should do?”

For a long beat, he was silent. Then, slowly, he rose from his seat and walked around the desk to stand beside you.

“I think,” he said gently, “you already know what you want to do. You just needed someone to stand beside you while you said it out loud.”

You looked down. “Maybe. But… I still want your opinion.”

Sabo paused. Then, quietly: “I don’t want you to go. Not because I doubt your skill—but because I’d miss you. Selfishly.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the honesty. “You’re allowed to be selfish?”

“Not often,” he said, a little smile touching his lips. “But with you? I think I want to be.”

That made your chest ache. You stared at the floor again, suddenly unsure. “Would it be wrong of me to stay? Just because you said that?”

“No.” His voice was certain. “It’d be wrong if you ignored how you feel.”

“And if I said… I want to stay because I’m tired of acting like none of this—us—matters?”

Sabo tilted his head, expression unreadable. “Then I’d tell you it matters to me too. A lot more than I’ve let on.”

Your breath caught.

He continued, softer now. “I’m glad you came to me. Not as a soldier. Just as you.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t have to. The silence between you wasn’t tense anymore—it was warm. A kind of peace you hadn’t felt in months.

So when you finally said, “Then I’ll stay,” it felt like the bravest decision you’d ever made.

And Sabo, still standing right beside you, just nodded—like he’d known all along you would.

----

Ace

You had always prided yourself on being independent. A member of the Whitebeard Pirates, strong and capable, you could handle almost anything on your own. But today… well, today had been different.

You volunteered to clean the deck after the storm, but the task was harder than you expected—debris everywhere, ropes tangled, and you couldn’t seem to get it done. But you refused help. You didn’t need it.

Ace, however, had noticed. He grinned as he leaned against the mast, watching you struggle with the ropes. “Need a hand?” he called.

You didn’t look up, too focused on getting it done. “I’m fine.”

Ace raised an eyebrow, a playful tone in his voice. “You sure? Looks like you’re about to strangle that thing more than untangle it.”

You gritted your teeth, your frustration showing. “I said, I’m fine.”

Ace sighed, pushing off from the mast, his voice still light but with a hint of concern. “You don’t always have to do everything by yourself, you know.”

“I said I’m fine, Ace,” you snapped, feeling the need to prove yourself even more.

“You’re stubborn as a rock, aren’t you?” Ace chuckled, watching you tug desperately at the rope. He stepped forward, gently placing his hands over yours, stilling your frantic movements.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. His hands were warm, reassuring, but you didn’t know how to react. You wanted to pull away, but something about the way he moved, so effortlessly, made you hesitate.

“I don’t need help,” you muttered, quieter now, pulling your hands away, feeling embarrassed.

Ace grinned, unbothered. “Sure, you don’t.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, the tension still lingering. But as you tried to go back to work, Ace broke the quiet again.

“So, tell me something,” he started, watching you carefully. “Why do you never ask for anything? Ever?”

The question hit harder than you expected, and you paused mid-motion. You didn’t answer right away, and Ace didn’t push, giving you time to think. Finally, he pushed his plate aside and leaned in, studying you more intently.

“Okay, new guess,” he said. “You think asking for help makes you weak.”

You stayed silent, the weight of his words settling in your chest. Ace wasn’t wrong.

He leaned back, sighing. “You remind me of myself when I first joined the crew. Wouldn’t let anyone help me. Not even Pops.”

You glanced up at him. “Why not?”

He smiled wryly, the edges of his mouth curling up. “Because I didn’t think I was worth helping.”

The words caught you off guard, and you froze, your fork mid-air. His gaze softened as he watched you. “You’re not me, though. So, what’s your reason?”

You looked away, fighting the discomfort creeping up on you. “I just don’t want to owe anyone,” you muttered, standing up and walking away before your emotions could betray you any further.

You were alone on the deck, your mind wandering as you scrunched your face in frustration. It had been days since Ace’s words had settled in your mind. You’d spent hours in the galley, cleaning up, fixing small things here and there, but it was still there—the exhaustion.

You never asked for help. Never. The idea of it made you uncomfortable. There was a pride you carried with that, something deep-rooted. You could do it on your own. Always.

But as the days dragged on, you started to wonder if that was just an excuse.

Why was it so hard to ask for help?

The work was piling up. You had kept up the façade for so long—shouldering everything. But the weight? The constant pressure? It was taking a toll. And for the first time, you realized just how much you were stretching yourself thin.

Wasn’t this just… too much?

You had never questioned it before. Never stopped to ask if it was okay to ask someone for help. And then there was Ace’s voice in your head: "You don’t always have to do everything by yourself."

The truth was, you didn’t want to be weak. You didn’t want anyone to think you couldn’t handle it. But the frustration gnawed at you more than usual, and the longer you went without admitting it, the heavier everything felt.

You were on the edge. Standing there, with nothing left to prove. And then, in that moment, you just… stopped.

"I can’t do this alone anymore," you thought.

You needed help. There was nothing wrong with it. So why not?

----

You finally found Ace later that afternoon, standing by the mast as usual. He was talking with a few crew members, laughing with that easy charm of his, but you caught his attention when you approached.

Your heart raced in your chest, an unfamiliar flutter twisting inside you. Every step toward him felt heavier than it should, but you pushed past the uncertainty, past the pride that had been holding you back.

"Ace," you called softly, your voice almost betraying the nerves you were trying to hide. "Can you… can you help me with something?"

The moment the words left your lips, Ace froze. His eyes widened slightly, and the laughter that had been so easy before dropped into a stunned silence. His lips curved into a slow, knowing grin, his gaze softening.

"Finally," he said, his voice low, but warm. "I was wondering when you’d ask."

You swallowed, a strange mix of relief and embarrassment swirling inside you. “I didn’t want to bother anyone," you started, suddenly feeling very small under his gaze. "But… I think I’ve had enough of doing everything alone.”

Ace’s expression softened further, and he stepped closer, his eyes not leaving yours. There was no teasing in his smile this time, just understanding. He knew exactly what you meant.

“You never have to carry it all by yourself, you know,” he said quietly, his tone suddenly sincere, pulling you into something deeper than just casual words. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm as he guided you gently toward the task at hand.

You could feel the warmth of his touch lingering long after he pulled his hand away, and it made your heart skip a beat. "I’ve got you," he added, almost too softly for anyone else to hear.

You blinked, surprised by the tenderness in his voice, but his presence was grounding. You felt the weight of everything in your chest start to lighten. Maybe it was okay to let someone else take on some of the burden.

You hesitated for a moment, then finally allowed him to guide you as he took charge of the task. As he worked, he glanced at you, catching your eye with that same easy grin. But now, there was something different in it. Something soft.

"You know, you don’t always have to do everything yourself," he said, his voice playful but with a sincerity that made your heart flutter. “It’s not about being weak, it’s about being strong enough to let someone help you.”

You looked at him, really looked at him. His gaze was steady, like he was completely sure of himself—and of you. It made you feel lighter, like the world was a little less heavy.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze.

Ace paused for a moment, his expression shifting to something softer, more protective. "You could never be a burden, (Y/N)," he said, his voice so quiet you could barely hear it over the sound of the waves. He reached out, almost hesitating, before gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re not just some crew member. You matter. You matter to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, it felt like the whole world had stopped. His words were a gentle weight on your chest, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach. You hadn’t expected it—hadn’t even realized how much you needed to hear it—but now, you couldn’t imagine hearing anything else.

His hand stayed there for a moment, warm and steady, a subtle but undeniable gesture that you weren’t alone. Not anymore.

“You don’t have to hide behind your pride, (Y/N),” Ace said, his voice softer now, but full of that quiet confidence you’d come to know. “It’s okay to need someone. It’s okay to let me be there for you.”

For a long moment, you stood there in silence, the weight of his words settling deep into your chest. And then, with a small, tentative smile, you finally let yourself relax, letting the tension you’d been carrying for so long slip away.

“I think… I think I’m starting to understand that,” you whispered, the words lighter than you ever expected.

Ace’s grin returned, this time without the teasing edge. It was sweet, sincere, and the look in his eyes made your heart beat just a little faster.

“Good,” he said, stepping closer, his voice full of quiet affection. "Because I’m always here when you need me.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the sea breeze and the warmth of his touch, you realized that maybe asking for help wasn’t so scary after all. With Ace by your side, it didn’t feel like weakness—it felt like the beginning of something new.

As he finished with the ropes, his eyes flicked to yours, and the smile he gave you was full of meaning. "You okay now?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Yeah,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “I’m good. Thanks, Ace.”

His grin widened, and as you stood together, side by side, you couldn’t help but feel that everything was starting to shift. In the quiet space between you, something beautiful was blossoming—and you were ready to let it grow.

[sh4nksslvt]

Smoke Break

A collection of fiery, smoky encounters where passion burns as hot as the cigars and blunts exchanged between you and some of the world’s most dangerous daddies i mean men — every kiss laced with smoke, heat, and unspoken desire.

Benn beckman x reader x sanji x smoker x crocodile | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirty, smok!ng, w3ed mentions, blvnt smok!ng, cigarette smok!n, mouth-to-mouth sm0ke sharing, minor spit description, light nsfw tension

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

word count: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

I'm so high in here, been smokin' on this weed

Only drug a bitch is on is the tree

But I lasted ten rounds like a freak

Like a G

Benn Beckman

The deck still stank of gunpowder and sea salt by the time you slumped onto the steps leading up to the helm, boots heavy with exhaustion. Your knuckles throbbed from the earlier brawl with some no-name pirate crew dumb enough to pick a fight with the Red Hair Pirates. You won, obviously—but victory didn’t erase the tight coil of stress still buzzing under your skin.

You dragged your hood up over your head, shielding your face from the low sun. Hands steady, you pulled out a battered little tin from your pocket, the familiar ritual already soothing your frayed nerves. You broke down the nug slowly, fingers working with careful, practiced motions. You barely even registered the distant sound of boots approaching.

Benn Beckman stopped a few feet away, cigarette halfway to his lips, brows lifting slightly at the sight of you hunched over the tray.

He leaned against the rail, arms crossed.

"Rough day?" he drawled.

You didn’t look up right away, just finished rolling your blunt with a lazy flick of your thumb. When you finally glanced his way, your gaze was cool, detached—like you were sizing him up and decided he wasn’t worth worrying about.

"Nothing a smoke can't fix," you muttered, voice low and even.

Benn whistled low under his breath, impressed.

"Didn't think you were the type to roll your own medicine."

You snorted, lighting the blunt with a snap of your lighter.

"Cigs are for rookies," you said, plucking the cigarette from his fingers without asking. You tucked the blunt between his lips instead, your touch casual, intimate.

Benn played along, inhaling deep. His eyes hooded slightly as the taste hit him—stronger, sweeter than he expected.

"Holy shit," he coughed out, laughing.

You took the blunt back from him with two fingers, tapping it lightly against the railing.

"Too much for you, old man?" you teased, the faintest smirk curling at the edges of your mouth.

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated in his chest.

"Old enough to know better. Dumb enough not to care."

You offered the blunt again—not by hand this time, but by leaning in, smoke trailing from your lips in a lazy, tantalizing swirl. Benn caught on quick, closing the small distance between you. His mouth brushed yours just enough to catch the exhale directly, smoke passing from your tongue to his.

The heat flared instantly.

Before you could pull back, he tilted his head slightly, deepening it into a kiss—slow, languid, tasting of smoke and adrenaline. His hand found your jaw, rough thumb grazing your cheekbone with a kind of reverence that didn’t match how fucking cocky he was about it.

When you finally parted, a thin, silver thread of spit clung stubbornly between your tongues until it snapped, leaving a hot smear of want in its wake.

You sat back, lazily dragging the blunt between your lips again. Your expression barely shifted—still that same unreadable cool—but your hooded eyes glittered with something dangerous, something alive.

Benn wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grinning like he just won the biggest prize in the world.

"You always this generous after a fight?" he asked, voice low and rough.

You exhaled slow, letting the smoke roll between you both like a secret.

"Depends who's asking."

Benn’s grin widened, cigarette long forgotten at his side.

"Good," he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell the faint whiskey on his breath.

"'Cause I’m not planning on being just a one-time habit."

Sanji

The galley was quiet at night, all the chaos of the day gone still. It was your favorite time—when the ship seemed to breathe slow and easy, and nobody was around to bother you.

You sat perched on the counter, blunt half-rolled between your fingers, working fast but precise. You glanced around — no way in hell you could borrow a lighter from anyone without exposing your little habit.

Of course you didn’t bring yours. Of course.

You sighed through your nose and hopped down from the counter, moving toward the stovetop. You twisted the burner’s dial, letting a tall flame lick up from the gas, the soft click click whoosh breaking the silence.

You leaned into the flame, lighting the tip of your blunt directly against it, shielding it with one hand like an old habit.

That’s when you heard a low whistle behind you.

"You know," Sanji’s voice drawled from the doorway, lazy and amused, "most people come to the kitchen for food. Not... that."

You turned slightly, the blunt between your lips, glowing softly as you took your first pull. You held his gaze through the smoke, your expression unreadable, unbothered.

"Guess I’m not most people," you said coolly, exhaling a slow, thick ribbon of smoke into the low light.

Sanji didn’t flinch. Didn't fawn.

Instead, he grinned, a slow, dangerous curve of his mouth as he stepped into the kitchen, cigarette tucked behind his ear, hands sliding easily into his pockets.

"You could've just asked for a light," he teased, voice like silk and heat. "I would've given it to you. Anything you want."

You shrugged one shoulder, casual.

"Not exactly advertising my hobbies."

Sanji stopped a few feet away, head tilting just slightly, studying you. You could feel the weight of his gaze — not heavy, not invasive — just... there, like a hand trailing just over your skin without touching.

"You're full of surprises," he murmured, voice dipping lower.

You took another hit, slow and deliberate, letting the thick taste settle on your tongue. As you exhaled, Sanji moved closer, crossing into your space so naturally it felt like gravity.

"Mind if I...?" he asked, eyes dropping to the blunt between your fingers.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, parting your lips just enough to offer the smoke right to him.

Sanji caught the game instantly.

He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and set it on the counter. Then he leaned in, mouth brushing dangerously close to yours—not kissing, not yet—and drew the smoke straight from your mouth with a slow, deep inhale.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the warm skin behind your ear.

When he exhaled, it was right against your lips, warm and intoxicating.

The space between you crackled.

You barely had time to process before he closed the gap completely, his mouth pressing to yours in a kiss that was all slow burn, all slow claiming. His grip tightened just a little, guiding you against the counter behind you without force—just the kind of confident pressure that made your stomach flip.

You kissed him back, matching his heat with your own, the taste of smoke and fire mixing between your tongues. When you finally parted, a thin, sticky thread of spit clung between you, snapping when you tilted your head back, breathless but still wearing that same cool smirk.

Sanji stayed close, his forehead brushing against yours, his fingers still tangled loosely in your hair.

"You," he said, voice low and warm, "are way too dangerous to be left alone in my kitchen."

You chuckled, flicking ash into the sink.

"Then don’t leave," you said, voice lazy, teasing.

Sanji smiled against your cheek, teeth just grazing your skin as he whispered,

"Wasn't planning to."

And from the way his hand slid down to your hip, you knew he meant it.

Smoker

The port was busy, noisy, and reeking of salt and sweat.

Perfect place to disappear for a while.

You slipped between two battered brick buildings, finding a patch of shade away from the main street. No patrols, no Marines. Just the low hum of the sea and the sharp scratch of your lighter as you tried, once, twice — and cursed under your breath.

Dead. Perfect.

You rolled the unlit blunt between your fingers, considering your options. Borrowing a lighter wasn’t on the table — too many judging eyes. Especially for someone like you, already treading too close to the Navy's leash.

"Problem?"

The deep, rough voice made you freeze. A shadow stretched into the alley. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Vice-Admiral Smoker stepped into view, coat draped over his broad shoulders, two cigars clamped between his teeth, smoke curling around his head like a storm cloud.

You gave him a flat look, the blunt dangling lazily from your lips.

"No lighter," you said simply.

Smoker snorted, amused in that dry, almost imperceptible way of his. He pulled one cigar free and tucked it into his coat, flicking his silver lighter open with a smooth motion.

He lit his remaining cigar, took a deep drag — and then, without saying a word, held the lighter out to you.

You raised an eyebrow but leaned forward, cupping a hand around the flame as you lit the blunt, your face close enough to his chest that you could smell the faint scent of smoke, leather, and something warmer underneath.

You inhaled slow, savoring the first pull, then leaned back against the rough brick wall with a sigh.

"Didn't peg you for the sharing type," you said, smoke curling from your mouth.

Smoker grunted, replacing the cigar between his lips.

"Don't make me regret it," he said, but there was no real bite in his voice.

For a moment, you just stood there, passing slow, lazy pulls between you. The world outside the alley blurred into meaningless noise.

Then, bold from the buzz creeping in your veins, you leaned forward again—holding the blunt between your fingers—and offered the smoke directly to him, a silent challenge.

Smoker’s gaze sharpened slightly, amused. He plucked the cigar from his mouth and stepped into your space, his broad chest almost brushing yours.

Without hesitation, he caught the smoke straight from your lips, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of him — and then, instead of pulling back, he kissed you.

It was rough at first, full of the same heat and tension that always seemed to spark between you. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing firmly as he tilted your head back just slightly.

You opened for him without thinking, the kiss deepening into something slower, hotter — tongues brushing, breath hitching between you. His mouth tasted of smoke and salt and something that was just him.

The world outside the alley dissolved entirely.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t messy — just breathless, lingering. His forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath in the haze of smoke curling between you.

"You," he muttered, voice low and thick, "are nothing but bad news."

You smirked against his lips, your hands still fisted loosely in the fabric of his coat.

"Good thing you’re terrible at saying no," you murmured.

Smoker let out a rough, half-laugh, half-growl, and kissed you again—deeper, slower, like he had no plans to stop this time.

And honestly, neither did you.

You barely had time to settle into the heat of Smoker’s mouth again, the slow grind of his body pressing yours back against the brick wall, when—

"S-smoker-san?!"

The sharp voice cracked through the alley like a gunshot.

Both of you froze.

Smoker broke the kiss with a low, almost feral growl under his breath, his hand still curled possessively around your waist.

You cracked one eye open lazily, barely lifting your head from Smoker’s shoulder to glance toward the entrance of the alley.

Tashigi stood there, sword awkwardly bumping against her hip, her entire face rapidly turning the color of a boiled lobster.

"I— I— I was looking for you to discuss patrol routes— but I can—! I can come back later!" she sputtered, already halfway turning on her heel, practically tripping over herself to get away.

Smoker let out a long, slow exhale through his nose, the kind of breath that usually meant someone was about to get absolutely wrecked—but he didn’t move away from you. His hand stayed right where it was, fingers still flexing slightly against your hip.

"You’d better," he said, loud enough for Tashigi to hear as she fled back into the chaos of the port.

You couldn't help it—you laughed. A low, smoky sound that vibrated against his chest.

"Think we traumatized her," you said, voice rough with amusement.

Smoker shot you a sideways glare, but there was no real fire behind it. If anything, he looked... pleased. Dangerous. Like a man who didn’t give a damn who saw what he wanted.

"Serves her right for barging in without knocking," he muttered, gruff.

You arched a brow, grinning lazily up at him.

"Maybe you should install a door in your alleys."

Smoker huffed a laugh — a real one, low and brief — and bent to kiss you again, less careful this time. Hotter, a little messier. His free hand finally dropped the half-burned cigar, grinding it under his boot as he pressed you back into the wall, fully claiming your mouth again like he had all the time in the world.

And honestly, for once, you hoped he did.

Crocodile

The lounge was dim, soaked in the kind of golden light that made everything seem a little more expensive than it probably was.

Low jazz music played from hidden speakers, and the soft clink of chips and whiskey glasses filled the background.

You slouched lazily in a velvet armchair near the back, rolling the blunt between your fingers, cool and unbothered. No one really noticed you here — not with the heavyweights and high-rollers stealing the spotlight.

But, of course, he noticed.

You felt it before you saw him — a shift in the room’s atmosphere, a change in the way conversations dropped to murmurs.

Crocodile’s presence was like a thundercloud creeping over sunny skies.

You kept your expression blank, indifferent, even as you realized your lighter was nowhere to be found.

Perfect.

Exactly what you needed.

You sighed, the blunt sitting unlit between your lips, considering your next move.

A shadow fell across your table. You didn’t bother looking up.

"Need something?" Crocodile’s voice rumbled, amused.

You tilted your head slightly, fixing him with a bored stare, the blunt still balanced at the corner of your mouth.

"Seems I’m short a flame," you said, voice dry.

Crocodile’s lips curled around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something sharp and entertained.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he bent slightly at the waist — slow, deliberate — bringing the burning tip of his cigar close to the end of your blunt.

Too close.

He stopped just shy, forcing you to lean in to meet him.

You exhaled through your nose, slow and steady, and leaned forward, lips brushing barely near his cigar, lighting your own off the glowing ember. The flame caught with a faint crackle, a tiny hiss.

The whole time, Crocodile didn’t move an inch.

The smell of smoke, expensive leather, and something faintly spiced wrapped around you like a second skin.

You leaned back into your chair, taking a long, slow pull from the newly lit blunt. The first hit bloomed warm in your lungs. You exhaled lazily toward the ceiling, your eyes half-lidded.

"You're welcome," Crocodile said, voice dripping with dry amusement, straightening to his full height.

You tapped ash into a crystal ashtray nearby without even glancing at him.

"Didn’t say thank you," you replied coolly.

He chuckled — a low, dangerous sound that vibrated in the base of his chest.

"Didn't expect you to."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension crackled softly between you, thick and slow, like molasses dripping from a knife.

Crocodile shifted, the gold of his rings catching the low light as he pulled a chair up to yours — close enough that his knee brushed yours under the table.

Deliberate.

Territorial.

"You planning to cause trouble tonight?" he asked, cigar smoke curling lazily around his words.

You blew out another cloud of smoke, just as lazy, just as unbothered.

"Depends," you murmured, voice low. "You planning to stop me?"

Crocodile smirked around his cigar, eyes gleaming with something dark and hungry.

"Not tonight."

He sat back, perfectly relaxed, the image of a king amused by the antics of his favorite piece.

You could feel his eyes on you as you smoked, weighing every slow drag, every lazy exhale.

Watching.

Waiting.

The house always won in places like this.

And tonight, it was clear you weren’t going anywhere.

The minutes slipped by in a slow, heavy haze.

The blunt burned low between your fingers, each drag slower than the last. Across the small table, Crocodile watched you like a predator sizing up easy prey — not rushing, not moving, just waiting for the exact right moment.

You met his gaze through the rising smoke, your face blank, but your heart starting to thrum a little harder behind your ribs.

He shifted finally, leaning forward slightly, elbows braced on his knees. The gold of his rings caught the light again, flashing like a warning.

"Come here," he said lowly, almost conversational, like you were a thing he fully expected to obey.

You didn't move immediately. You took another lazy pull from your blunt instead, blowing the smoke off to the side with a small smirk. Testing him. Pushing.

Crocodile huffed a small laugh under his breath, all amusement gone razor sharp.

Without warning, he reached across the table, hand catching you by the wrist — not rough, but firm, dragging you forward until you were pulled out of your chair and into his space.

The blunt dangled forgotten from your fingers as he leaned in — close enough that you could see the faint scar cutting across his face, the glint of amusement and warning in his heavy-lidded eyes.

He reached up with two fingers, plucking the blunt casually from your grip and setting it in the ashtray with a careless flick.

"You’re slow," he murmured, voice like warm gravel. "Let me show you how it's done."

You barely had time to process it before Crocodile’s lips crashed into yours.

It was rough — like he was making a point. His mouth devoured yours with an intensity that was unexpected, yet exactly what you needed. His cigar still burned between his fingers, and before you even had the chance to think about it, he tilted the cigar toward your lips, offering the smoke as you kissed.

The warm, glowing tip of the cigar hovered near your mouth, and you instinctively opened up, taking in the deep, spicy taste as you inhaled. The heat of it filled your lungs, mixing with the taste of Crocodile’s kiss — rich, dangerous, intoxicating.

You pulled back just a bit, lips brushing against his, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling out from your mouth and into his.

Without breaking eye contact, Crocodile inhaled the smoke you gave him, his gaze darkening as he held it in for a beat, then exhaled it slowly, sending it back toward you.

The air was thick now, saturated with smoke and the lingering taste of him. Every breath felt like it stretched the moment, making it last forever, and yet, you knew it was only a brief exchange.

When he pulled away, his lips were curved into that same smug, dangerous smirk.

"Better," he muttered, voice rough with satisfaction. "Now you’re getting it."

You smirked back, though your chest felt a little tighter than it had before.

"You’re insufferable," you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but your heart was still racing in your chest.

Crocodile chuckled low, the sound like a dangerous promise.

"Only when it suits me," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking another slow drag from his cigar. He didn’t look at you directly but you could feel the weight of his gaze on your lips. "You’ll learn, eventually. That’s how the game is played."

You stayed there, breathless and still, as the tension simmered between you.

The house always won.

And tonight, you were playing Crocodile's game