#Foolish crocodile

[morganbritton132]

The funniest dream I ever had was actually a nightmare where I was in the boiler room from Nightmare on Elm Street and I could hear Freddy’s scrapping his glove against the pipes, coming closer.

Dream Me said, “Oh, no thanks.”

And then I woke up. I was not dealing with that shit.

[cinnbar-bun]

Smooth Operator- (One Piece Men X Reader)

Scenario: “His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold.”

Featuring: Benn Beckman, Crocodile, Rob Lucci, Shanks, and Smoker (separate)

Rating: NSFW

Notes: Rough sex, GN reader (no specific genitalia described), slight angst but oh well haha, possessive Lucci, reader is a pirate in Smoker’s section.

Word Count: ~1.1k

You can read on my AO3 here!

Work is under the cut!!

Benn Beckman

“Fuck… sweetheart…” he whispers into your ear as he lifts your leg higher up. “Tightenin’ around me so well.”

His hand that is gripping your waist rubs gentle circles with his thumb. He can’t stop how addicted he feels pressing into you, having you clench around him so deliciously, and your lovely, sweet voice crying out his name. It’s a beautiful sight to see whenever he drops by. But you both know he won’t stay long, so you try to savor as much as you can. You, the gentle touches and looks in his eyes that make you believe that this time, maybe, just maybe, he’ll take you with him. Him, the way your body feels around his and the way your face contorts with pleasure at every thrust. He has half a mind to run off and leave everything behind for you. To say screw it and keep himself beside you.

“Beck-! Beck!” You choke out his name, pulling him in closer, and lord, it takes everything in him not to collapse onto you and confess how much he fucking adores you.

“Easy there, darling. I’m right here,” he smoothly replies, for both of your sakes. He feels how close you are and works himself faster. “Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

Crocodile

The smell of alcohol and cigar smoke is heavy in his private room. You always say it won’t happen again, but then those dark eyes of his lock onto yours, and now you’re back at it. In his office, a disheveled mess, bouncing on his thick cock while he grips your waist tightly.

“S-Sir!” You whine, as he taps his cigar on his ashtray and takes another puff. You feel the cold metal of his hook around your back. Despite his attitude, he’s made it a point to never let that golden hook cut you or slice your delicate skin. He just prefers the hook tearing the fabric of your clothes apart.

“Good little thing,” he states, a chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest as he tilts your chin up to him and kisses you roughly. The rings on his hand press into your skin coldly. As he does so, his hook tugs at the remaining bits of fabric and lets the shreds fall to the ground.

“You don’t need them when you’re with me,” he says. A partial lie, to obscure the truth that he wants you to stay longer and desire his help. You moan quietly before he silences you with his lips once more.

Lucci

“I thought I told you to avoid him,” he states, unimpressed with the man who has been getting too comfortable with you. Lucci’s possessiveness towards you has increased for some reason, despite him insisting it was just casual- that he can never love and will never love you. You somehow agreed, and now here he was, covering your mouth with his hand while he fucked you from behind in an attempt to remind you of his prowess. He shoves two fingers inside your mouth, and without any hesitation or instruction, you begin to suck on them.

“Do you need me to punish you for your foolishness? Or did you think I was stupid enough to not find out?” Lucci hisses. You haven’t done anything wrong, he knows this deep down, but god, seeing that man think of trying to be around you sends Lucci’s blood boiling.

He doesn’t love you. He can’t love you. He never will love you. This is just for pleasure, and you’re just his stress relief, a toy he uses for his own sake.

He grips you tighter and tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. “You belong to me. Not him. Not anyone else.”

Shanks

He's never serious. He’s always arriving at your house with that damned smile of his, always easing you up and promising “it’s just a reunion between old friends!” Then he always manages to fold you over any piece of furniture within your house. You wouldn’t be shocked if he had managed to fuck you in every part of your house.

“You’re so….!” You struggle, all while Shanks chuckles and continues to thrust into you. Despite being a bit tipsy and only having one arm, Shanks manages to hit all your sensitive spots- spots he’s become very acquainted with after all these sessions with you.

“Dashing? Handsome?” He begins. You let out a loud moan at particularly rough thrust, which makes him laugh boisterously. “Ah, am I too good for you? No words to describe how amazing I am?”

You want to say he’s awful, that he’s ruining your life with how crazy he makes you, but then he hits that spot again and you crumble.

“Shanks… please…” you beg pathetically, and Shanks nods.

“Anything for my darling~,” the redhead smiles as he leans down to kiss your neck. “Gods, I love you.”

He states it so casually, that you can never tell if he’s being genuine or just messing with you. You don’t know if you can even handle the truth from him anymore.

Smoker

“Think I wouldn’t have noticed, huh?” He growls in your ear. You throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder as he bullies his thick cock into you. You don’t even know what he’s noticed this time, as it’s probably another one of his lame excuses to get you close. Not that you care, as you enjoy this game of cat and mouse with him.

“Wearing all that… sitting in that bar and acting all innocent,” he answers for you. “Think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t catch you there? You’ve gotten too brazen, pirate.”

“Captain,” you begin, and you feel how he twitches inside you. “You’ve gotten too brazen yourself. How many times has it been now?”

“Don’t ask a question to mine. I’m the one who is asking the questions here,” he cuts you off, continuing to bury himself within you. “I don’t wanna hear shit from that mouth of yours except what I want.”

You smirk at how he’s doing his best to retain his hardass personality, but it’s clear he’s faltering. You taunt him further.

“Yes, sir~.”

At that, Smoker groans and fucks you at an even rougher pace.

“Say that shit again and I’ll turn you in!” He yells, as if he even had the heart to do such a thing to you. For some reason, you were someone he never could capture.

[heartfullofleeches]

Ever heard of the florida everglades man?

Basically that but with some nagas and swamp puppies who just spectate them

Reader is the florida everglades man. He want to see a 20ft snake and yoinks a few insects or snakes showing them off while barefooted.

Search them on the clock app if you don't know who im talking about

☎️

Oh Chief this is genius - A reader without an ounce of fear in their bones who takes a daily stroll in the swamp near their home hunting for creatures native to the area such as nagas and other reptile adjacent humanoids as well as other hybrids/monsters like spiders. Darling should have ended up as someone's meal by now, but most that come across them can't believe the boldness of this foolish human.

Everglades Darling yoinking a smaller reptile/insect hybrid and proudly presenting them to their camera or creeping up to a sleeping naga or "swamp puppy" for a good shot at their scales.

-

Everglades Darling: Hey, guys, I'm in the Everglades and I just came across another swamp puppy. Thought he was sleeping - turns out I was wrong-

[Darling pans their camera up to reveal the crocodile hybrid clutching them to their chest]

Everglades Darling: I think he likes me.

-

Everglades Darling: aw, a boa - excuse me [pulls the naga hiding behind some bushes into their arms]

Naga: [hisses violently - gearing to bite reader's arm]

Everglades Darling: Beautiful color. One of the prettiest snakes I've seen out here. Off you go now-

[Everglades Darling attempts to let go of the naga who immediately latches onto their waist, wrapping their tail around the humans legs]

Yan Naga: Do you mean it?~

-

Everglades Darling: And here I find myself surrounded by swamp puppies again. It's alligator breeding season so I shouldn't get to close..... Why are you all staring at me like that?

[sunshinescribes]

The House Always Wins

Part 2 of this fic

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, (lowkey) Sugar Daddy Crocodile, Crocodile is smug and petty

(edit: realized the original artwork was fanart and I couldn't find the artist's @ to credit them, so I changed it)

Crocodile doesn’t know what to expect when he wanders onto the casino floor of Rain Dinners in search of you. Slot machines chime, playing a catchy little tune with each pull of the lever. Dealers grin and offer words of encouragement, coaxing big-eyed fools into another game with the sweet promise of lady luck’s favor.  

You don’t usually partake in gambling, not keen on the idea of betting away your berries when you know it’s all rigged—and why would you even need to? You never ask for anything, but Crocodile provides. Spoils you even.

He enjoys watching the way your eyes get all big, stunned by the diamond necklace he places around your neck, or the soft gasp that passes your lips when he gifts silk charmeuse and chiffon dresses, designed, and tailored just for you.

Crocodile continues to seek you out, his sharp eyes flitting between the slot machines and card tables. He ignores the curious and lingering looks targeted at him—the smartly dressed patrons who vie for his attention as he continues to search—and then he hears it.

Your laugh, loud and beautiful—music to his fucking ears. He turns.

Crocodile doesn’t expect to see you at the bar, perched on a stool, leaning into a man he doesn’t recognize. Your hand is on his slender arm, your lips pulled into a pretty smile, and laughter escapes again—so lovely and genuine and for someone else.

The man grins at you sheepishly, transfixed on your mouth. It’s so blatant—barely contained, the way he’s staring at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

You must feel Crocodile’s eyes on you because you glance over your shoulder suddenly. Your smile widens, and you exchange a quick word with the mysterious man before hopping down from your seat.

Crocodile is silent as you approach, stone-faced. You grab his arm with both hands and tilt your head towards the man, all while smiling up at him.

“I want you to meet my friend,” you say excitedly, steering him towards the bar.

Crocodile doesn’t catch the name that rolls off your tongue—he can’t seem to hear anything over the sudden ringing in his ears, so sharp it drowns out the sounds of the jingling slot machines and triumphant cheers of those foolish enough to think they’re the winners.

The fond smile that plays on the mystery man’s lip never falls, but Crocodile notices the sudden unease as the man’s eyes land on him. The imposing height, the cold, almost irritated expression he comfortably wears—the golden hook that glints under the blinding casino lights. It’s enough to strike fear in the heart of anyone smart enough to value their life.

And the man is a small thing—average in every sense of the word, Crocodile thinks. The plain clothes, the nervous, uncertain words that stumble from his mouth as he tries to introduce himself. Crocodile doesn’t feign interest—he barely even acknowledges your friend, and that only serves to add to his anxiety.

If it wasn’t for the pitiful look you shoot him, Crocodile would laugh at just how pathetic this man is.

“We both grew up in Coombe,” you explain, glancing back at the mystery man. “I never thought you’d leave the North Blue.”

He must take your surprise as a compliment because he gives you another bashful smile.

“I didn’t either. Guess I finally figured if you could do it, so could I,” he chuckles softly. “Imagine my shock when I saw you here, of all places.”

“Small world,” Crocodile chimes in dryly, drawing your friend’s attention once more.

Crocodile places a hand on your hip, drawing you a little closer to him.“She never mentions much about her home in the North Blue.”

And she never mentioned you. The insult is unspoken, so subtle that he thinks even you don’t catch it.

But it’s also true. You rarely spoke about the North Blue—of the life you had before you entered the Grand Line and ended up in Alabasta. You never mused over an island you once called home, or a lovesick, hairbrained boy you left on it, and Crocodile doesn’t pry. He isn’t particularly interested in knowing, truth be told. He only cares about the life you have now, with him.

The man goes on an excited tirade about how beautiful Coombe is this time of year, about how you used to love the new bloom after winter finally passed, and all the fun you both had in your youth. He can’t help but reminisce, tries to connect with you in the only way he’s able.

“You should visit when you can. Uh—you both should.”

You pretend to consider it, and Crocodile gives little more than an unaffected grunt.

You inquire how long he’ll be staying and recommend shops and restaurants he must visit before leaving. He shamelessly seeks more of your company—your attention—and asks if you could possibly give him a tour.

You promise to check your schedule and follow up, and he beams as if he’s won an invaluable prize. Crocodile’s irritation grows—twists and festers the longer he stands by your side, little more than an onlooker. His frustration isn’t directed at you—you’ve always been friendly, offering a smile where he would surely offer a sneer, but it doesn’t stop his grip from tightening on your hip.

You notice, finally excusing yourself. The man gives you both a soft goodbye, one that Crocodile ignores completely as he whisks you away, and he can’t help the way his lips pull into a smug grin at the quick glimpse of the dejected look on his face. It must hurt him to see you walk away in the arms of another—to know the golden opportunity he thought the world had provided him never existed at all.

“You didn’t like him.”

It’s the first thing you say when you enter Crocodile’s private suite, disappointment dripping in your voice. You weren’t foolish enough to think he would be thrilled, but you thought Crocodile would at least be amicable. 

He shrugs his coat off, placing it on the coat hanger near the door. “He was shameless.”

Your brows furrow, your lips pull into a slight frown…You don’t know? It takes Crocodile by surprise; surely you must. The man is far too obvious; his intentions are impossible to mask.

“He would have taken you right there on the bar if you had let him,” Crocodile scoffs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“Gage?”

So that’s his name.

Your voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, taken aback by the sudden accusation. “He doesn’t want to fuck me.”

Crocodile gives a mirthless laugh. You’re so sweet. So naïve. Always offering others the benefit of the doubt.

Crocodile recognized the hunger in his eyes—the longing. He suspects this friend of yours has harped on you for a long time, never quite brave enough to take the chance.

Not even now. By some miracle, he survived the Grand Line, and he still can’t brave his own futile emotions. Crocodile isn’t sure whether to laugh at how spineless the man is or burn with anger at how he even thinks he has any chance of having you.

The dark, ravenous part of him takes high offense.  

Crocodile comes up behind you and dwarfs you with his body as his decorated hand cradles your jaw. “Course he does. Look at you.”

He tilts your head, forces you to face the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. You try to focus on your own reflection, but you can’t help but watch Crocodile when he dips down, pressing a tender kiss to your neck, all while his half-lidded eyes hold your gaze.

“Maybe I should invite him to our room so he can watch me fuck you,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver, nearly stumble out of his grasp as his lips trail higher.

“Don’t be cruel...”

Cruel? His offer would be courteous. It would be the closest your lovestruck friend would ever get to your naked form. The only way he would ever know what you sound and look like at the height of your pleasure—how perfect you are, stuffed and babbling through your orgasm.

The cruel thing would be what he truly wants to do—to use his devil fruit powers to turn the man into a withering corpse, forgotten in the endless sand dunes.

“Would you rather he joined?” Crocodile inquiries plainly.

He attempts to come off unaffected…curious, but the wicked voice in the back of his mind nags at him, hisses about feelings that could have been, and still may be.

The man matches your gentle nature, and is somewhat competent, at least to have made it this far from the North Blue. He’s the kind of man who would kneel at your feet if you asked, worship you as if it were his sole purpose—he’d give you a typical life, picturesque in its simplicity, and you would be content.

The thought makes something vicious twist in his gut. It makes time stand still as Crocodile awaits your answer.

“No.” You shake your head softly, meeting his cold eyes in the mirror. “I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

Of course not. What would you want with a sniveling worm? How could you go back to mediocrity after everything that’s been offered to you? The attention of a warlord of the sea—the savior of Alabasta. How could anyone else ever compare?

It’s pathetic how the gluttonous beast inside of Crocodile settles and hums contentedly, knowing that you only want him.

And maybe this is your power he couldn’t recognize before, why he was so unnerved in the beginning—this ability to effortlessly turn sensible men foolish. Even him.

“Only want you.” You turn, your soft eyes trained on him. “Always want you.”

Crocodile captures your lips as the words escape, and you melt into him—mold your body into his until he is all you sense. The heady scent of his sweet cigars mixes with hints of patchouli and cedar—his cologne—it lingers on his fitted clothes, drawing you deeper into his searing kiss.

You feel the bend of his golden hook press into the curve of your back, forcing you to curl into him as he parts your lips with his tongue. You’re caught in a pleasant haze, lightheaded, while Crocodile kisses you like he’s claiming your mouth, making sure that your lips never forget the feel and taste of him—that they never desire another’s.

Crocodile lifts you from the ground effortlessly with his ringed hand, still kissing you hungrily as he shifts blindly through his suite, knowing the layout well enough to stumble into his lavish bedroom. He parts from you with a low groan.

“Lay down,” he orders against your lips, and you comply, sinking into the soft mattress while he looms over you.

The ache you feel in your core blossoms—hurts so good from how desperately you want him—to be wrecked and teary-eyed and a mess for him.

You even go as far as to whine when you notice Crocodile isn’t working to free the fierce erection that strains his dress pants, eager to be lost in your warmth.

“None of that,” Crocodile tuts coyly, lowering to his knees near the foot of the bed. His large hand skims up the length of your thigh, pushing up your dress until it is bunched around your waist, and he can see the evidence of your arousal staining your thin lingerie—another gift.

That creature inside of him purrs gleefully, proud of how well he turns you into a spectacle—a gift of his own to admire and unravel again and again.

Crocodile tugs your panties down your legs, tossing it aside carelessly as his hooded eyes catch on your bare pussy, already slick and ready for him. A deep, guttural noise catches in his throat as you part your legs—eagerly welcome him where he belongs.

“I bet he wonders what you taste like…” Crocodile muses, leaning into your aching slit. A soft gasp passes your lips when you feel the heat of his mouth on your needy cunt, tending to the ache his salacious words and desperate kisses created.

There are rare moments when Crocodile takes you apart slowly, his movements languid and measured, bringing you to the height of your pleasure at an agonizing pace, only to rip it away just when you begin to tip over the edge. And then he continues the process again and again. He leaves you delirious on days like that, wasting the hours away with your body—and perhaps today would be a day such as that if he didn’t feel he had something to prove.

If the desire to plague your every thought didn’t control him like a cruel master.

Your soft whimpers turn to shameless, needy moans, light and airy but loud enough to satisfy the wicked parts of him.

��S’good,” you whine drunkenly, your hips bucking instinctively when Crocodile’s lips latch onto your neglected clit. Your fingers thread into his long hair, pull him even closer, and he groans—it makes you arch painfully as the feel of it cascades through your body and tickles your aching nub.

Each swipe of his talented tongue pushes you closer, making the heat that pools in your stomach metastasize until you’re chanting his name, so close and ready to reward him.

He squeezes your clit with his mouth, sucks your aching bud, and you’re gone—shoved over the edge as pure hot pleasure rips through you, flows from between your legs, and Crocodile laps up your sweetness like a starved man.

You glance down at him through your lashes, eyes heavy, body slowly recovering. Crocodile pulls away from your pretty pussy with a sigh, as if he’s sad to part, and the idea alone makes your core ache with newfound need.

“Always so sweet for me.”

Your release smears his chin. It makes him look depraved and delicious. If you had the energy for it, you’d lift from your spot on the bed and kiss him. Feel the taste of yourself on his tongue, but all you can do is watch him with tired eyes as he rids himself of his clothes, tosses his lavish vest and dress shirt aside haphazardly.

His pants are the last thing to go, and you watched as if caught in a spell, buzzing with anticipation as he palms his hard dick. It’s so pretty, with the tip blushing and spilling precum that glides onto his thick fingers. Crocodile smirks, amused by the enchanted look in your eyes.

“This what you want, darling?” he asks, giving his dick a rough tug that warrants a delighted hiss. You nod—nearly sob—as you continue to watch Crocodile’s hand rub up and down the length of his lovely cock. You feel so empty—the desire to be filled in a way only he’s capable of taking precedence in your mind.

“Tell me,” Crocodile encourages as he shifts to the bed, his large frame casting you in shadows as he hovers over you. That smug smile still plays at his lips and only grows crueler as he grinds his hard length against your needy cunt.

“N-need you. Fuck—need you so—so bad. Baby please—”

The request sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, but it must be exactly what Crocodile wants to hear because he sinks into you the second the term of endearment passes your lips.

A deep grunt rips from his throat and tickles your ear pleasantly as Crocodile drags his fat cock deeper into you. You’re so warm and wet and snug, your velvety walls hugging him like this is where he belongs—where he should always be.

And he’ll admit, there’s no better place than here, between your legs. No better feeling in the whole fucking world—not even the sweet giddiness that builds inside of him each passing day as the fall of the Alabasta Kingdom draws closer. Having you writhing beneath him, breathless and lovely, is incomparable—a sensation he never tires of.

“Always take me so—mmm…well,” Crocodile rasps, transfixed on how your sloppy cunt swallows him over and over and over again. It makes him fuck you harder; drive even deeper. “This pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

And he thinks perhaps it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said to you. Uncertainty still stirs within him—dread lingers in the corner of his mind, silent and waiting, because you complicate everything. You’re the only person who can placate the ravenous creature within him, feeding its insatiable appetite without it ever growing incurious. It wants everything you have to offer—can’t conceive of feeding from anyone who isn’t you. Not anymore.

Never.

Crocodile pushes your thighs close to your chest, drives his dick even deeper as he continues to pound into you. The sound of his powerful thrusts and your tortured moans is a beautiful symphony, lovelier than the melodic sounds of the stirring sand at dawn.

You have that lost, blissed-out look in your eyes as you blink up at him, words completely evading you as he uses you.

How could your foolish friend ever even dream of having you like this? Think he could possibly do to you what Crocodile has done?

Crocodile feels equally as hopeless as you—is incapable of thinking clearly because a confession he knows he should swallow pours from his lips without warning.

“I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he growls, digging the tip of his hook into the mattress, inches away from your head.

You should be…shocked. Unnerved by such a confession. Crocodile doesn’t pretend to be a saint, but he never mutters his murderous intent. He hides behind practiced indifference; let’s others paint a glorious picture of him, never revealing his true nature. You attempt to feign shock for a split second, but you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and goes mad at his declaration—some depraved, feral part of you stirring to life.

And the knowledge that a part of you likes this fucked up part of him must awaken something in him, because his thrusts grow brutal, his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you into the mattress like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to. Crocodile hits deeper, the head of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongey spot inside of you, and you’re gone before you can even warn him.

You choke out something that sounds like it could be his name, tears trickling down your cheeks as you come so violently that your breath stutters. You shake through your orgasm, squirm beneath Crocodile while he fucks you through it—watching you come apart with wicked fascination and unbridled lust.

He loves how he wrecks you—how you hold onto him for dear life, as if he might slip away.

He’s ruined you, just like you’ve ruined him.

The thought alone is the final push he needs, make his dick throb violently as he explodes inside of you and fills you up the way he knows you crave—the way your perfect pussy deserves. The squelch of his seed mixing with your sweetness is enough to drive him mad. Makes him want to fuck another load into you.

Maybe in a bit, he considers as he rocks his hips sluggishly, riding out the sweet aftershock of his powerful orgasm.

You’re little more than a quivering mess under him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing is ragged…so so beautiful, and Crocodile doesn’t frighten at the tender feeling that blossoms in his chest—a sudden warmth that takes him by surprise yet seems to make all the sense in the world as he stares down at you, all while a pleasant thought crosses his twisted mind.

What’s the harm?

Why shouldn’t I revel in what’s mine?

divider credit @/cafekitsune

[queenie-the-court-jester]

where the birds and fish gather

A/n: my silly fish and bird hybrids! Few sexual references but mdni! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ASK ABOUT ANY OF THEM I'M DESOERATE FOR ASKS- ignore my grammar haha

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ︶︶︶︶༉‧ ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ︶︶︶︶༉‧

★ sydney the cockatoo

sydney's the most mischievous bastard out of all of them. Your watch is missing? In his nest. Your necklace? His nest aswell. Your hat? He's wearing it. You're never getting it back. He sees something shiny, it's in his little claws. Like all the avian hybrids, his arms are wings and he's covered in feathers. Having a human face with little beak like lips. His legs are bird legs. Black eyes staring at you from his nest in a tree. Be careful where you step after any surprise snow in's. He's probably burying himself in it. 5'4

★ Evangeline the peahen

The elegant, sophisticated, coy, angelic Evangeline. Gabriel's mate but she despises his guts, similar to princess, she much prefers you. Often dragging you to their nest and squabbling with Gabriel when he tried taking you away. She may not be as pretty as he is outside, but she certainly is Inside. Proudly showing off her brown little feathers. 5'6 brown straight hair, black eyes and a little pale

★ gabriel the white peacock

Egotistical bastard. He hates his wife for being so ugly, but he does think you are extraordinarily beautiful. He could definitely envision putting his clutch inside you. He'll figure a way out, don't you worry! An albino peacock male with red eyes, white feathers and extremely pale. 5'7

★ fajarah the ring necked parakeet

she's sydney's little partner in crime, but lately she's mellowed out more. Now preferring to watch the koi mers swim around and munch on some chips she stole from the main house. Tilting her head curiously at something she finds interesting. Bright green feathers and hair, black eyes and tan skin. 5'2

★ foolish the owl finch

often seen in the fields with the cows and bulls, he's quiet and prefers to watch. Hopping around quickly and pecking things that catch his eye. There's not much to say about him since he keeps to himself alot, but he does seem to like the biscuits you bring for him.

★ simon the tyto alba

Simon is deaf and mute, having been found wandering around the farm as a little chick. Now the farmers are looking for any way to help him with his hearing long term, but he seems to have adjusted to looking for any vibrations on the ground. Pale and white hair,black eyes, very pointy beak like lips

★ the koimer quintuplets

There's nothing much different between the quintuplets except their different patterns. Just that tancho is the leader and more mature, Kiko is more curious and childish, Hime is sweet and reserved, tsu is a chatterbox and humble, koromo is loud and nosy

★ mason the "lake monster" (crocodile)

Mason is like an older brother figure for the quintuplets, teaching them Little bits of English and watching you interact with them from the depths of the lake or hidden behind some underwater trees in the lake. You may not always see him, but he's always there. Silently watching. Messy grungy hair, green eyes, and has a light tan. 6'4

[hannahbarberra162]

The Crocodile's Gambit (Croc x Reader)

on Ao3

The Crocodile’s Gambit  (1/2)

Croc x F!Reader

Fluff in this chapter, angst and fluff in the next.

WC: 3.3k

Summary: Crocodile needs a chess partner before he impales Buggy out of frustration. Again. He finds one in a most unlikely place. Set after the abolition of the Warlord system, right before Cross Guild is formed.

~~~

There were a few things that Crocodile missed about Nico Robin. The first being, she was incredibly competent. When Crocodile hired someone, he assumed they could do their job without being told how to do it. He didn’t want to have to micromanage anyone, especially grown adults. He loathed having to check in and make sure every step of a process was done correctly. He’d never had to do that with Robin, she was smart and capable. Anything he assigned her, she executed flawlessly.

But what he missed more than her competence was her chess playing ability. She was the only opponent within Baroque Works who had ever won against him. Her success rate was about 15%, which was significantly higher than anyone else Crocodile had played in years. Crocodile enjoyed winning chess matches but even more than that, he enjoyed losing them. He loved the challenge, the strategy, the simplicity, the complexity, everything about chess. And he especially loved it when he found someone who could best him.

Which made his stay with the complete idiot Buggy all the more intolerable. He and Mihawk were meeting with the Clown to determine whether a joint venture would be viable. After the absolution of the Warlord system, Crocodile had approached Mihawk for a business proposal. Crocodile had connections, money, and business acumen but didn’t like the spotlight. Mihawk had power and the reputation of the World’s Greatest Swordsman. Together, they could become unstoppable. Then, the question of the Clown arose. Buggy owed Crocodile a lot of money, Crocodile was ready to kill the Clown and be done with his foolishness completely. However, something the Clown had that neither of them did was a large loyal following. For whatever reason, the Clown’s crew were loyal to the death for their Captain. Any time the Clown docked his garish ship, he was greeted with fanfare and celebrations. There were waiting lists with hundreds of applicants, all waiting for a chance to be on Buggy’s crew. Crocodile didn’t understand why, but people were charmed by the Clown’s charisma.

Crocodile and Mihawk had been in negotiations with the Clown for a few days. It was slow going - each iteration of an alliance between the three of them had many stipulations and conditions that had to be discussed. Crocodile was fairly certain the venture would fail and he’d kill the Clown, but he kept his options open. After all, a dead Clown made no money at all. 

Crocodile was in desperate need of a good chess opponent, he felt his stress rising by the minute. Unfortunately, he knew he wasn’t going to find someone within the Clown’s ridiculous crew of idiots and low-lifes. Mihawk was a decent chess opponent, but the swordsman was rarely in the mood to play. Business dealings with the Clown left both of them irritated, and Mihawk’s outlet wasn’t chess. Each of them had their own room and office on Buggy’s ship, and Crocodile had his chess set sitting out at all times in his office, just like at home. He tried reviewing games he’d played against other opponents and playing against himself, but none of it was as entertaining as playing against another person. One morning before his meetings began, he moved a white pawn to an opening position on the board. He left for the meeting and forgot about chess for a few hours as he dealt with the Clown’s buffoonery and Mihawk’s recalcitrance. 

Returning to his office for an after lunch break, he was about to read the newspaper when he noticed someone had moved black, opposing his white pawn at e5. It had to be someone on the ship, but who? Mihawk had been with him in the meeting. Daz wasn’t a good player, he hadn’t played with Croc in years. No one from Buggy’s crew was smart enough, and Crocodile hadn’t brought anyone but Daz. Crocodile wasn’t concerned about someone infiltrating his office, but he was concerned about his growing boredom and irritation. If he didn’t find a good opponent soon, he’d probably kill the Clown before it was advisable. He decided to play the opening to the King’s Gambit, moving his pawn to f4, next to the first. Once it was time to leave for the next meeting, he knew whoever had moved the black pawn wouldn’t last more than 5 moves against him.

He was wrong. It was Crocodile who was now outclassed, outplayed, and outmaneuvered. Crocodile played delayed games against the mystery person as his meetings continued and hadn’t won a single match. Crocodile hadn’t lost this many games in decades, and he couldn’t have been happier. Crocodile returned back to his office after every meeting, eager to see his opponent’s next move. His opponent was ruthless, seeing through his plays, gambits, and traps with ease. He skewered Crocodile time and time again, to Crocodile’s delight. Every time he lost, Crocodile placed a gold coin under the black King, which was taken and the board reset the next time Crocodile returned. Crocodile wanted to know who he was playing with, but he was never able to catch the man in action, his office always empty when he returned.

Even though the negotiations were not going well, Crocodile was now having a wonderful time. He didn’t want the venture to end, he wanted to continue playing chess against his opponent. The Clown had noticed the uptick in Crocodile’s mood, asking for more ridiculous clauses in their contracts. It hadn’t helped the negotiations, but Crocodile hadn’t killed the Clown outright yet, which was saying something. Unfortunately, the time for reconciliation was coming to a close. Crocodile wanted to find out who the mystery opponent was and soon. He wanted to shake the hand of the man who had bested Crocodile so thoroughly and offer him a spot on his crew.

So Crocodile waited outside his office before his morning meeting. He wasn’t hiding, that would be childish. He was simply waiting in a concealed location to resolve an issue he was having. True, he could have waited in his office to see who the man was, but that would ruin the fun. And Crocodile hadn’t had fun in years. He would be late for the meeting, but it wasn’t going to be productive anyway, negotiations had stalled. The morning crew was coming in to clean his office - Buggy had a lot of useless staff (and a lot of overhead expenses) but Crocodile appreciated coming back to a clean office daily. He hadn’t really noticed them before, they were all part of the background for Crocodile. They were dressed like all of the other pirates who worked for the Clown - in ugly, lurid circus clothing. The various cleaners split off to their areas, with you entering his office to clean. You wiped down various surfaces, until you got to the board with Crocodile’s most recent move. You studied it for a brief moment, then picked up a black knight.

“What the fuck are you doing woman?” Crocodile recognized Daz’s voice. He must have been passing by, looking for Crocodile.

“Cleaning,” you replied, irritated by the interruption. You put the piece back down where it was previously, to Crocodile’s disappointment.

“Didn’t look like cleaning to me. Leave the Boss’s chess set alone unless you want trouble.” The maid was unconcerned by the threat, rolling her eyes at Daz’s words. 

“Game’s over anyway, doesn’t matter,” you muttered. Crocodile’s interest was piqued, was this slip of a woman his opponent? He watched you flip off Daz behind his back as he walked away. You bustled around the office, cleaning once more. As he watched, thinking you may be his opponent, he appreciated your form. You were graceful in your movements and meticulous in your work, and he found you beautiful in an unconventional way. The more Crocodile watched you, the more he realized how attractive you were. The hideous circus clothes you wore didn’t help, you had a huge orange scarf wrapped around your neck. But he saw your immense potential if you wore something less…flashy.  It didn’t take you long to finish cleaning, and before you left the room, you moved the black knight, putting Crocodile in checkmate. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair, smiling wickedly.

~~~

After his next meeting, Crocodile cleared his schedule for the rest of the day. He didn’t really care about anything the Clown had to say right now. He was far too interested in his little chess opponent to bother with anything else. He sat in a plush armchair, smoking a cigar, waiting for the time the cleaning crew came in. Around lunch time, you carried your cleaning supplies into the room. You immediately noticed Crocodile sitting in his chair and you started to back out of the room.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll come back -” 

“You’ll sit down,” Crocodile intoned, blowing billowing smoke clouds into the room. He gestured to the board in front of him. “Do you know how to play chess?” he asked. He knew you did, he was just curious what you’d say. You were a confident, aggressive chess player, and he wanted to see if that crossed over into your regular personality.

“I do, but I have to -”

“You’re dismissed from your duties for now. Sit. I won’t ask again.” You were a little nervous, but set down your cleaning supplies and sat across from him on another comfortable armchair. You perched on the end of the chair, like you were getting ready to run at a moment’s notice, fiddling with your scarf. Crocodile switched the board, you were now white.

“Go ahead. Start,” he drawled at you, blowing smoke. Your eyes flicked from the board to Crocodile, wary of the situation. Things weren’t completely genial between Crocodile and your Captain, surely you felt the tension on the ship. But you played, moving your pawn to f4. Crocodile parried, moving his pawn to e5, countering your opening. You played your turn, and by the time 15 minutes were up, Crocodile was in checkmate again. 

“Checkmate,” you said, leaning forward to stand up. Maybe you wanted to get back to work or maybe you wanted to get away from Crocodile, but neither was going to happen.

“You’re not dismissed,” Crocodile growled, steepling his hand against his hook, pleased with the match. “So, it’s you. You’re my opponent. You’re quite skilled at chess,” Crocodile observed.

“Yeah, it’s me. Do you want your coins back or something?” you replied. You were a little rough around the edges, Crocodile thought, but he could fix that. When you joined his crew, he’d work on your social skills outside of the chess board.

“No, you may keep them, you won them. I would like to make a proposition. I want to play chess with you tonight in the evening. Three games. If you win two out of three, you get 100,000 Beri.” Ideally, you’d play chess with him all day every day, but he would take things one step at a time. 

You narrowed your eyes, fiddling with your scarf. “What if I lose?” 

Crocodile leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. He spread his hands magnanimously, like he was granting you a favor. “If you lose, you have to join my crew and leave the Clown.”

You pursed your lips, thinking over his deal. “200,000 Beri,” you bartered. Crocodile smiled, enjoying your evident self confidence. 

“150,000 Beri per night, 50,000 Beri bonus if you win all three rounds,” he countered. You agreed, shaking his hook with your hand. You were either self assured in your ability to win, or didn’t mind leaving the Clown. Either way, you’d be coming with him when he left.

~~~

Crocodile was down 1,000,000 Beri and no closer to getting you on his crew. He knew you were good, but he hadn’t anticipated you were that good. Crocodile loathed losing money, but in this instance, he didn’t mind handing it over night after night. He thought that playing face to face would increase his chances of winning, but that wasn’t the case. You were even sharper when playing with him in person rather than delayed over the course of hours and days. You were a good sport about winning, and you didn’t gloat. You also took the time to explain your thinking when Crocodile asked you about your thought processes. You did, however, have a crass mouth that Crocodile didn’t care for. 

“Sucks to suck,” you replied after Crocodile complained you ended a game too swiftly for his liking.

“Do not speak to your superiors that way,” Crocodile snapped. He was peevish after having lost three games in under an hour.

“If you’re my superior, why do I keep collecting your Beri?” you said impishly. Crocodile nearly smiled at your antics.

“Speaking in such a coarse manner makes you seem less intelligent than you truly are,” Crocodile stated. He hated to see you present yourself like the common boors that made up the rest of the Clown’s crew. You gave him a bored look. 

“Give me my pieces and I’ll play you again,” you said. Crocodile was interested in playing a fourth round against you but knew you were trying to change the subject. He picked up your knight he had taken and held it out to you in his hand. You reached for the piece but he closed his hand before you could retrieve it.

“Hand me my pieces, please,” he said. 

“Hand me my pieces, please, Sir Crocodile.” You rolled your eyes, but dutifully repeated the phrase. Crocodile smiled at you, and opened his hand once more. You took the knight, your fingers brushing against his palm. It was the first time you’d made physical contact with each other. Crocodile wanted more. 

You didn’t let Crocodile win or handicap yourself when you faced off, you always played to win. So when Crocodile won his first game, he was over the moon. He was certain you were tired when he’d won, you almost nodded off once during the game. Crocodile was concerned for your wellbeing, and it tarnished his feeling of victory. He was…worried.

“Is the Clown working you too hard? Why are you so tired?” Crocodile queried as you yawned into your hand.

“Someone is making me play chess at night after work,” you replied.

“Please, you’ve been making more than you’d earn in a month in under an hour,” Crocodile scoffed. The games between you didn’t take that long, the Clown must be putting undue stress on you. He’d…fix that for you. You hummed, resetting the board for the third game. Crocodile had enjoyed winning, but didn’t want to play if you weren’t at your best. “Let’s end early tonight. Go rest.”

You looked up at him, unsure of what to do. “But it’s only been two games, and I lost one. If I lose the next one -”

“It is my idea to conclude early, therefore you will not be bound to the usual rules. Go to bed.” Crocodile waved his hand, dismissing you. 

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly, lingering by the door for a moment. It was the first time you’d thanked him without his prompting.

As the days went on, you seemed to enjoy Crocodile’s company a little bit, not bolting immediately after he paid you your Beri. You had a keen wit and were able to counter Crocodile’s acerbic remarks with ease. It was obvious to Crocodile early on in your conversations that you were not well read, something else Crocodile wanted to amend. Crocodile loaned you a book about ancient Wano battle theory, asking you to read it as it would improve your chess playing. You returned it the next day, saying you read the entire work. Crocodile questioned you about the contents of the book, trying to see if you had just skimmed it or were lying. But you were able to answer his questions and provide your own insight into the strategies listed.

“What did you think about the treatise on aggressive methods of battle?” Crocodile asked. He had found a lot of useful thought exercises in the book. Having read it in his youth, it had become a cornerstone for his own strategy in becoming a Warlord and businessman. 

“In chess? I don’t necessarily agree that aggression should be the foremost method of attack. Aggressive moves only work if it's balanced with knowledge of your opponent. If you don’t know who you’re dealing with, things may not work out the way you planned,” you said while moving your Queen to check Crocodile. Crocodile hummed in agreement. You were clearly intelligent, Crocodile just had to provide you with direction. He knew people were not given the same opportunities in life and was happy to supply you with some. 

To that end, Crocodile was now taking an interest in your formal education. He loaned you book after book, and you read them all, sharing your opinions and thoughts on the titles. You had interesting ideas, and Crocodile found himself sharing his own with you. You tended to like mysteries and fiction novels, but read anything Crocodile lent you. You picked up and assimilated new information easily and had unique ideas, things Crocodile would never have thought about on his own. Crocodile found himself sharing his favorite books with you, just to see what you would say.

He appreciated your personality outside of the chess board the more you spent time together. Crocodile tended to make people nervous, it was practically a pastime for him. However, after your initial encounter, you weren’t tense around him at all. You didn’t mince words, you said what was on your mind, even if you knew it would annoy him. You were honest, as far as he could tell, and generally well liked among your crew. He appreciated your looks, but that was secondary to your personality, a first for Crocodile. He even started to appreciate your circus outfits, always completed by a large scarf, no matter the weather. Even without your chess skill, he would have liked to bring you onto his crew. He was going to broach the subject tonight and ask you formally to leave the Clown. He knew you would agree. He was the better choice by a long shot. Crocodile had more money, more power, more influence than the Clown would ever have. He was smarter, stronger, and richer, there was no way you’d want to stay with a second-rate loser like the Clown. 

~

“Checkmate,” you said, moving a rook into place. You smiled at Crocodile, as he ran a hand through his hair. “By the way, that’s your tell.” Crocodile’s eyes snapped to yours. 

“What are you talking about? I have no tell,” Crocodile snarled. You smiled again. Anyone else would shortly have been drained of life, but Crocodile found you endearing. Cute, even. 

“It’s good to know your own tells,” you continued, undeterred by Crocodile’s outburst. “You run your hand through your hair when you are blindsided. If you can sense something is coming, you don’t. But if you are surprised, well, that’s your tell.” Crocodile paused, no one had shared that with him before. But perhaps no one had surprised him as frequently as you. 

“Speaking of surprises, I have something I’d like to ask you,” Crocodile drawled, lighting a new cigar. You were already preparing to leave after the completion of the third game. That was another thing, Crocodile found himself wanting to spend more time with you outside of your matches. Having you on his crew would help with that as well. You sat back down, watching Crocodile calmly, waiting for him to continue. “I’d like you to join my crew.”

“No.”

You declined instantly and decisively. Crocodile ran a hand through his hair, scowling.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine tripping up Sir Crocodile

Crocodile: *arguing with the navigator over the route and holding up the entire expedition*

Navigator: *trying to talk him out of making them take a dangerous route*

You: *watching from a safe distance* Is it just me or is he being... I wanna say stubborn stupid?

Mihawk: the word you're looking for is belligerent, and he is indeed being belligerent.

Buggy: even I think he's being foolish.

You: wow, and coming from you, that's really saying something.

Buggy: can it

Mihawk: it's not like any of us can talk him out of this, that man is stubborn as hell.

You: well, I might have a way to make him forget about what he wants.

Buggy: you seem hesitant.

You: I've never used this method, I've just heard about it.

Mihawk: If it gets us back out to sea, then I'm all for you giving it a try.

Buggy: I second that

You: Alright *stand with your back to Mihawk and Buggy, and you lift your shirt, exposing your chest to Crocodile*

Crocodile: *gawks at you, dropping his cigar*

Navigator: There is a big storm going that way. We need to follow the log pose needle that points toward another island!

Crocodile: *having a mental error 404* Sure, let's do that.

Navigator: *throws his hands up,* thank the gods, finally.

Crocodile: *scowls at the man, then up at you*

You: *drops your shirt and turns back to Buggy and Mihawk and grins*

Buggy: Wow, I'm surprised that was so effective.

You: I'm not

Mihawk: why's that?

You: Because men are easy.

Mihawk: That's not true.

Buggy: Yes it is.

Crocodile: *realizes something is up with you three and comes over* The fuck?

You: nothing

Buggy: this one flashed you to get you to stop being a stubborn ass.

Crocodile: *his neck cracks when he slowly turns his head towards you, his gaze wide-eyed, angry, and unblinking.*

You: snitch *Smacks the back of Buggy's head, and books it to your room*

Crocodile: *follows, turning into sand to bypass your door,* when will you learn that this isn't an effective tactic to evade punishment.

You: fuck.

Crocodile: *uses his large body to cage you against the wall.* Hehe, I must admit that I'm surprised at you. I never would have thought you would be so bold as to expose yourself in the open and in front of people. And it's also impressive that you would successfully trick me, a feat very few have achieved. *Uses the dull part of his hook to tilt your chin up to look at him*

You: So you're not mad?

Crocodile: No, I'm quite pleased...soft drags his hook down your neck and over your collarbone, before looping it around your neck and forcing your head back to look at him* ... But that doesn't erase the fact you undermined me, and ruined a perfectly good cigar. So you're still getting punished.

You: *wincing at the feeling of the tip of his hook digging into the tender underside of your jaw. And you struggle to keep your balance because he's lifted you to your tippy-toes.*

Crocodile: But don't worry, I'll be gentle.

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[burstfoot]

Your name is Kristen Wright. You’re barely 10. You’re at the outdoor funeral for your parents, a pair of genius scientists that Terra will never see again. You’ve spent the last two weeks giving false smiles to women and men who pretend to grieve them while spending every moment they think you’re not looking lauding them for their ‘foolishness’ and ‘hubris’. Sitting amongst a crowd of these intellectuals, your feel nothing looking at their crocodile tears, knowing they’re just happy there’s less competition for next year’s grants. Your new guardian grabs onto your hand in an attempt to grant you a modicum of comfort. You stare blankly at the sky above.

You’ve never felt so alone. You don’t think this feeling will ever go away.

Your name is Joyce Moore. You can hardly communicate anymore. Your best friend killed herself trying to replicate the experiment that gave you permanent brain damage. Every scientist at Rhine Lab now treats you like a child at best, and an animal at worst. Your parents have not come to see you. None of your colleagues seem to understand that you are still you, with a sense of humour, good taste in TV shows, and fucking feelings, god damn it.

You’ve never felt so alone. You don’t think this feeling will ever go away.

Your name is Ferdinand Clooney. You’ve lost everything you’ve ever worked for in a futile grab for power. The department of defense has you by the dick after saving you from a group of Pioneers who (justifiably) nearly beat you half to death. It’s playing fiddle to their whims or the rest of your life in prison - or, most realistically, a tragic accident report. Your aspirations aren’t within your reach anymore, and you know that it’s your fault. You will never be Kristen Wright, and it’s eating you alive.

You’ve never felt so alone. You don’t think this feeling will ever go away.

Your name is Parvis Ahrens. You’re not that old. You’re only 58. But you’re losing your mind. Every day, a little more slips away. You rely more and more on encyclopedic entries for information you took immense pride in knowing from your heart. You’ve spent the last few years focused on the pursuit of progress of all else. As part of this, you manipulated your star pupil in an attempt to permanently get her under your wing, outside of the influence of the Defense Director, a weak-hearted woman everyone else seems to think is cold as ice. She has years of life to change Columbian science. You don’t.

You’ve never felt so alone. You don’t think this feeling will ever go away.

Your name is Jara B. Wilson. You feel like you don’t see the girl who lived for you with so long in Kristen anymore. You’re a washed-up movie star, working for her cause above all else. Do you have anything that you’re working for for yourself anymore? She’ll be gone soon. You know that.

She hasn’t even left yet, and you’ve never felt so alone. You don’t think this feeling will ever go away once she leaves.

Your name is Nasti Londrey. Your people have never had a home. They might never have a home.

You’ve always felt alone. You will always be alone. That’s fine.

Your name is Justin Fitzroy Jr. Your dad died a week ago, and the cure has just been found for the hereditary illness that threatens to cut your lifespan in half. It was found by accident.

The sword of Damacles no longer hangs above your neck. Why then, do you still feel so alone?

Your name is Loken Williams. You reach out to a girl you tortured, who you know can’t remember what you did to her, because you’re going to die soon, and you need someone to remember what you did with your life.

Even if she kills you, at least you won’t die alone.

Your name is Trevor Friston. It’s been thousands of years down here. You just want to see your daughter again, and it will be another thousand until you do.

You’re very familiar with the loneliness that wraps around every single nanometer of your circuit board.

Your name is Dorothy Franks. Your whole family was killed in a Catastrophe. Your name is Elena Urbica. Your whole family, besides your twin sister, has disowned you. Your drive yourself head-first into the sciences to distract yourself from the loneliness.

Your name is Ho’olheyak. Centuries of ancestral memories swarm around your mind. Because of this, your lifespan was cut to a fraction of the life you should be living. You are obsessed with the history of your people, and you resent them from tearing your life away from you. You tear over books and tomes of history to find all means of unspeakable knowledge, hoping that somewhere in there you’ll find something that you can connect to.

You don’t even know you’re lonely.

Your name is Muelsyse.

You saw the writing on the wall. Saria and Kristen just had a massive fight. You’ve been drifting apart since college, but the only two people who you’ve felt a real connection to on all of Terra will hardly speak to each other anymore. Do you try and mend what happened between them? Can you? You don’t know what to do besides take all means to protect yourself in the fallout. You wish you weren’t so paranoid, so self-centered, that all you know how to do is ensure your own safety.

Is there anything on Terra for you besides loneliness?

Your name is Ifrit. It’s cold, and quiet, and you’re pretty sure you’ve killed everyone around you. Your eyes are blurred, you hands are shaky, and shards of black crystal stick out all over your body. Before you pass out, you think one thing:

Hell, you might be alone, but at least those bastard whitecoats got what was coming to them.

Your name is Olivia Silence. You pull yourself out of the rubble in a destroyed laboratory, where you see Saria looming over Ifrit, beaten half-to-death. You beat yourself up for thinking you could trust her - that she was there to protect Ifrit, and you. You can’t trust anyone in Columbia. You run to embrace Ifrit with your entire body, to protect her from the cold eyes of Saria standing above her. You look back at her with nothing but fear in your eyes.

You’ve never felt so alone. You have to get Ifrit out of Rhine.

Your name is Saria. You’re barely 8 years old. You went your father in tears, as a group of bullies came after you and destroyed your toy car. He tells you to stop crying. You’re not accomplishing anything by throwing a fit in front of him. He tells you to fight back - take responsibility for your weakness.

You’ve never felt so alone.

You won’t ever be this weak again.

Staring up at the sky, looking up as Kristen’s ark sends her out through the hole she tore in the false sky, you know that you were foolish to believe you could bypass your own weakness through sheer will.

And you’ll be lonely for the rest of your life without her.

[softsan]

˚ 🔪⊹ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈: 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒. (𝐩𝐭.𝟏)

✉️ ・ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭���𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: | 01 |

✉️ ・ ── 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

✉️ ・ ── 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mafia AU, Angst, Kingpin!Hongjoong, Former Doctor!Y/N, Fem!Reader, Opposite sides, Old Rivalries, Betrayal, Eventual Smut.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: You were the eldest daughter of the infamous Mafia kingpin ' The Crocodile'. You had managed to crave a successful, ordinary life for yourself as a physician, however, your world is turned upside down when your father's men decide they'd prefer you to rule in your brother's stead. You were now in hiding trying to avoid the hit your brother had placed on your head. Whilst in hiding you accidently come across a wounded man, and nurse him back to health. Unbeknownst to you, you had just aided your father's number one enemy, the great dragon Hongjoong.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Possessive Themes, Future Explicit Sexual Content, Murder, Drowning, Torture, Weapons, Graphic Violence, Angst, Explicit Language, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Drugs, Betrayal, Morally Grey Characters.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

You took a deep breath, your lungs expanding to their full capacity. You came forth, your heels clicking against the marble tiles. Their eyes watched you like hawks, observing your every move.

They’d eat you alive if they sensed the most minuscule amount of fear... You didn’t care to admit it, but, in more ways than one, you were your father’s daughter. And like your father, The Crocodile, you wouldn’t buckle nor bend.

You stepped in front of the podium, your eyes hardening with resolve, “Lieutenants, soldiers, engineers, and drug lords, I welcome you to our humble abode.”

There was a slow clap that echoed from the audience. Your eyes momentarily flickered to your younger sister Heejin, sitting behind her was Hyuntae, your antagonistic brother.

You were the eldest out of the three, which brought hostility between you and your brother. Your father had always intended for Hyuntae to be his successor—believing a male figurehead to be the idealist of options. And you were perfectly content with this too, as you had no desire for the perilous life of a mobster.

However, some of your father’s lieutenants thought otherwise. Hyuntae was terribly impulsive, explosive, and sadistically vengeful making him a terrible candidate to lead others. You were the Crocodile’s firstborn, and they believed you ought the be the rightful heir to their organization instead of Hyuntae.

You addressed the room of heads, your speech, and your confidence faultless. Hyuntae further writhed in his seat, growing all the more infuriated as you won over more of the crowd.

“As per our system, the annual growth will continue—”

A loud gunshot erupted, the sound deafening your ear. You stood, stunned, not comprehending what was happening around you.

‘Y/N!’ Your sister Heejin desperately yelled aloud.

Blood seeped your blouse. You stared down at your chest, your fingers brushing against the crimson stain, which was growing bigger by the minute.

Your legs gave out from underneath you, your vision turned ablur.

I’ve been shot? It still didn’t register.

The last thing you recalled was the agonizing screams from your sister before darkness consumed your conscious mind.

Present.

The sea breeze held a terrible bite. It cast a cold front that left those in its wake with frostbitten fingers and toes. Hongjoong tried to keep his composure, his teeth violently chattering as his limbs spasmed in the wintery depth of the bay.

The night had an eerie hold on Hongjoong—a foreboding feeling that tonight's affairs would end up in shambles. In foresight, he should have trusted his gut and followed his intuition, but alas, he'd been foolish to underestimate The Crow's subordinates.

Gunshots rang through the air, its blinding flashes flaring into the pitch of darkness. Hongjoong dived deeper into the chilling abyss, avoiding the numerous bullets that penetrated the water's surface.

He knew he wouldn't last long in the sub-zero temperatures, the risk of hypothermia heightening with prolonged exposure. He kicked his protesting legs with all his might, forcing his arms to swim ahead.

To Hongjoong's favor, The Crow's sea cruiser hadn't traveled far from the marina—where the other gentry docked their sea vessels. After a tireless swim, he finally made it to the boat's staircase. He grumbled and cursed as he dragged his wounded torso across the cold aluminum.

What am I to do now? His forearms gave out, exhaustion getting the better of him. Hongjoong rolled onto his back, grasping his arms around himself as he shook uncontrollably.

Don't tell me this is where I die. He thought bitterly in disbelief.

Hongjoong was in a foreign enclave. He had no standing nor command in these parts. Up North, he was regarded as a king, the infamous and the only 'The Dragon'.

Even in the unlikely case, someone had stumbled upon his injured self and pitied him enough to take him to the hospital. Hongjoong would be nothing less than a sitting duck. His enemies in the masses would come out of every nook and cranny seeking to finish him off for good.

There has to be another way out of this... He dwelled, his eyelids beginning to droop. This isn't how I'm supposed to die. 

You groaned, stretching your neck side to side. You had, had another strenuous shift at the beachside resort, which was located not far from the marina.

You had been posted in the restaurant as a waitress, flipping tables and serving large drunken parties of rich socialites who had returned to their yearly absorbent lifestyles by the bay.

You hated summer for this particular reason. The once sleepy township was now overrun by intoxicated, rich folks. They had no filter and had an endless list of demands. They threw around their wealth, expecting everyone to bend to their behest, all the while looking down upon the town's local residents.

You took a restless walk down the beach, your shoes in your hands. You stared at the sea's undisturbed pandemonium, waves dark as the sky above violently crashing into the rocks on the shore.

Your feet sunk into the damp sand as you kept a safe distance. You'd only stroll to the pier and back. After a long demanding shift, it was part of your routine to walk beside the water and wind down.

As you stepped closer to the wooden length that extended out to the ocean. You caught sight of a dark figure. 

It couldn't be. You squinted your eyes, trying to get a better look. Is that a body?

You kicked your feet, taking off in the direction of the lifeless mass. Your heart pounded the closer you got, adrenaline running through your veins.

A handsome man laid on his back, his eyes painfully scrunched shut, while his breathing labored. You quickly checked the skin of his forehead with the back of your hand. Not only was he pale and colorless, but he was cold to the touch.

You checked his pulse, placing two fingers against his neck, below his jaw, and where his carotid artery ought to be. His heart rate was slow and lethargic, a factor that contributed to your diagnosis of hypothermia.

Furthermore, as you examined the man, you noted the blood soaked into his tee shirt. You lifted the bottom, revealing a nasty gunshot wound that had penetrated the side of his abdomen. Fortunately, the wound didn't seem too serious on first inspection, hypothermia being your bigger concern.

"Can you sit up for me?" You gently asked.

Hongjoong stirred at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. You helped him upward, quickly stripping off your jacket and putting it onto him. You had every intention to take off his wet clothes, but first, you had to get him off the pier and somewhere you could treat him more effectively.

As you zipped up the jacket, you noticed the faint outline of a dragon tattoo on the man's chest. It peaked from the white material, which had gone almost transparent when wet.

He's one of The Dragon's men. Your mouth quivered, shocked at the revelation.

The country you resided in was split into five notable territories, each belonging to one of the notorious mafia families.

There was The Bull, The Crow, The Jaguar, The Crocodile, and lastly, The Dragon.

You were painfully aware this bay and township belonged to The Crow. Hence the appearance of one of The Dragon's men was so astounding. He shouldn't have been here. In fact, his very presence placed him and you who had aided him in terrible danger.

I can't just leave someone to die. You grappled. That goes against the medical oath I swore.

You pulled up the hood of your jacket in an attempt to obscure the man's face. You then roped one of his arms around your shoulders and dragged him back to the beach and eventually to your car, which had been parked in the restaurant's parking lot. 

The drive to your shabby apartment felt like an entity. Finally, you reached your destination, the man in your back seat slipping in and out of consciousness.

As preferable as it would have been to take him to the hospital, you knew how dangerous it would have been for him. As soon as anyone caught a glimpse at that dragon tattoo of his, he'd for sure be forsaken. He'd be more likely to leave the hospital in a body bag than to receive any medical treatment. This left you with little option but to take him in yourself.

You set him down on your bed, and immediately with a pair of scissors, you cut off his damp clothing. You dug out an abundance of towels and blankets from your cupboard, warming them with a hairdryer before applying them on and around his head, neck, and chest.

Next, you headed to the kitchen to boil some water on the stove. You filled one mug and used the rest of the boiling liquid to fill some spare water bottles you had lying around. You brought this all back to your room, wrapping the bottles in hand towels and positioning them against the man's body.

"Can you drink a little for me?" You encouraged, brushing away a strain of wet hair that stuck down on his cheek.

Hongjoong murmured something incoherent, slowly moving his shoulders as a sign he'd try to sit up.

"Here," You assisted him, placing your palm against the back of his head and tilting it up, "This will warm you up," You assured.

Once the man was settled and his temperature started to normalize, you shifted your focus onto his open wound. The bullet had shot clean through. Luckily, for its small caliber, it didn't inflict as much damage as a larger caliber would.

You gingerly washed the wound, and stitched and bandaged the entity of his abdomen. When you were done, you went to your bathroom to scrub your hands clean. You then searched through your stash; you didn't have too many drugs on hand, but what you did have would suffice. You continued to shuffle through your medicine cabinet, pulling out a packet of antibiotics and another packet of painkillers.

A year ago, you used to prescribe and treat patients on a daily basis...Your expression deflated as you recollected the past.

You had nearly finished your residency and were about to obtain a full-time position at the hospital until Hyuntae, your callous so-called brother, threw your world into chaos.

The life you lived, the one you had tirelessly built for yourself, was now destroyed. You'd never be able to practice medicine again, let alone be able to step foot into a hospital.

Hyuntae had left a wake of bodies behind in his attempt to rid you of your father's territory. You had been fortunate to make it out of the city with your life, even if it meant leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.

The terrible coldness had since dissipated from Hongjoong's body, leaving but a dull ache on the left side of his abdomen. In his drugged haze, his mind drifted, reminiscing on an exchange between him and trustworthy consigliere Seonghwa.

"Why have Wooyoung wed her?" Seonghwa expressed his disbelief.

"Would you have preferred I to have married her instead?" Hongjoong challenged.

Seonghwa grimaced, unquestionably uncomfortable with the subject at hand.

Hongjoong disinterestedly sat upon his ottoman, pouring himself a stiff drink and hurling it back.

"I would have preferred for none of us to find ourselves in a situation where we have to forge alliances through marriage," Seonghwa's distasted evident from his tone of voice, "But since we're stuck under such circumstances—"

Hongjoong roughly placed down his glass, the sound interrupting Seonghwa.

Seonghwa threw Hongjoon an annoyed look, "You and I both know tradition calls for the head of the organization, which in this case is you," Seonghwa exasperatedly pointed his finger at Hongjoong direction "Is to personally elope when the bride happens to be a fellow Kingpin's heir."

Hongjoong knew of the customs, and yet, stubbornly, he had no intentions of marrying himself off. He'd not accept just anyone to stand beside him, to rule as his dragon queen.

"By having one of your caporegimes, no matter how highly-revered they may be, marry in your stead. You are purposefully offending The Crocodile." Seonghwa made his last attempts to talk sense into his boss.

"My order still stands," Hongjoong dismissed, filling the glass again and placing it against his lips. He took a large gulp, the fire of the alcohol burning down his throat, "Wooyoung will be the one to marry Heejin, The Crocodile's daughter."

Hongjoong wasn't sure how many days had passed since the incident at the marina. But the one thing he was certain about was that he owed you his life.

His lethargic eyelids slowly cracked open, the light from the morning sun momentarily stunning him. He groggily inched his back off the bed to lean against the headboard.

The pain from his side protested, but Honjoong chose to ignore it, setting his sights on you. From your bedroom with the door ajar, he had the perfect view of the kitchen.

He watched as you softly sang to yourself, taking out two slices of toast from the toaster oven and quickly tossing them onto your plate to avoid burning your fingertips.

The sweet melody of your voice and the cute little shimmy you did as you cut off the crusts brought an unexpected smile to Hongjoong’s face.

It was unlike him to be so in awe of another. He wanted nothing more than to get to know you, your likes, dislikes, your darkest of dreams, and your wildest of ambitions.

NETWORKS: -​

MONI’S NOTE: This is another repost! There are fewer changes in this one but, I still hope you enjoy it! Please leave a like/reblog or comment letting me know your thoughts.

TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!

© softsan - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[shadowfear-art]

Finally finished the "Power Rangers/Super Sentai au"

The premise of the story (has probably been done before), is humanity has found the element that created gods from myths in all around the world. And of course every power hungry person wants a piece to study or use to ascend to a higher being, leading to two options of "hero's vs villains"

The first option of using said element is via a technological suit, upside that it can regulate the element's chaotic energy and allowing its user to exceed their normal human potential. Down side the suit needs constant maintenance from the power's constant wear and tear, if broken the suit becomes useless leaving the user practically naked.

The second option, usually done by villains, is infusion. Various methods to do this but ultimately absorbing the element into the body and becoming vastly stronger which leads to change one's physical form, the draw back is there is a percentage of how much the human body can handle currently before failing (60%-65). If a failure occurs the person in question becomes a monster, powerful but dumbed down and subservient. Your typical monsters of the week, bad guy that are usually followers of those who didn't fail.

Which our story leads to Crocodile, a young CEO on the villains side funding their research on heightening the current infusion percentage. He wants power but isn't foolish enough to jump to the opportunity like everyone else only to fail or be beaten by a Revolutionary Ranger (or any other similar group).

Being smug when competing funders like himself fail he definitely ruffled some feathers leading to betrayal and kidnapping of Crocodile (speaking of birds, Doflamingo isn't part of this race for power yet until a few three-ish years later)

With the intent of absolutely humiliating the young CEO, Crocodile was infused at 100% purposely to cause him to become a failure monster. Which worked but not in the way anyone would ever expect.

Sand Croc couldn't be controlled and worse yet could not be contained baffling everyone as the large reptile rampaged all over the city for months.

The only person to come close to capturing the beast is Dragon, leader of the Revolutionary Rangers, his relationship with the CEO is complicated as the two were romantic but the sides that each took made it impossible to continue said relationship. And honestly neither are over each other which brings Dragon to uncovering why Sand Croc is acting the way he is ...

100% infusion is terrifying when successful.

[signanothername]

UT/UTMV Comics and Animatics masterpost

This will include every comic and animatic I made so far, the links will be arranged from oldest to newest, I will also specify which characters these links focus on for easier navigation

*tip! Those in red text will contain an explicit discussion/visual display of some sort of trigger/content warning, these could be blood, emotional or physical abuse, emotional manipulation, death, self destructive behaviors, implied or discussed suicidal ideation, suggestive content or other sensitive topics

*tip! Those in orange text will contain an implied or mentioned trigger/content warning but no explicit discussion/visual display

Let me know if I missed color coding anything :)

Comics

A never ending game - Killer and Apple twins

Brink of death - Apple twins

You don’t even know how it started - Apple twins

Linguists… - Killer and Nightmare

Misplaced hatred part 1 - apple twins

Misplaced hatred part 2 - apple twins

One brain cell - MTT

Trauma - Apple twins

Killer vs Error

Foolish for you to trust yourself - Color Spectrum

Crocodile tears - Nightmare

Mugs - Nightmare gang

Besties? - Killer and Ink

Strangers - Apple twins

Nonexistent mercy - Color Spectrum and Nightmare

Final request - Apple twins

Get humbled Nightmare - Killer and Nightmare

Worth it - Color Spectrum

Emotional suppression - Killer and Nightmare

As dead as you’re going to be - Apple twins

Guilt trip town - Color Spectrum

“Handson experience” - Killer and Horror

Eating problems - MTT

Keeping the kitties safe - Color spectrum

A Little life update - Killer and Nightmare

Choice - Color Spectrum

Thanatophobia - Nightmare gang

Killer vs Dream

Read like an open book - Nightmare and Color

On the topic of kindness - Nightmare and Color

Two Nightmares

999 souls - Apple twins

Delta vs Killer

Numb - Color Spectrum

Dream’s room

Cinnamon roll - Color Spectrum

Not human nor monster - Color Spectrum

Nightmare and a kitty

Watched… - Killer and Nightmare

Subconscious protectiveness - Nightmare and Color

Apple pins - Apple twins

Uncorrupted Nightmare

I love you - Apple twins

Nightmare do you love Dream too?

Taunting - Killer and Nightmare

Soul capture (part 2)

A beautiful haunting smile

When love hurts more than hate

——————

Animatics

The Aristocrats… - Nightmare and Neil

Nightmare but it’s with Abridged freeza’s lines

Killer, but with Abridged Alucard’s lines

No longer you - Apple twins

NIGHTMARE HAS FALLEN! - Apple twins and Killer

Murder trio as the seeker trio - Nightmare gang

I’m supposed to be your friend - Apple twins

If Nightmare is Regina, who is Karen and Gretchen?

Killer’s voice claim 1

Killer’s voice claim 2

Killer voice claim 3

Nightmare’s voice claim

Rockabye Nighty…

Autistic person when then someone who is slighty more autistic than them: 💀😡 - Ink and Error + Nightmare

———

Extra

Comic dub by @/softwaredubs

[kacievvbbbb]

I feel like the main reason this evil shanks theory is so prevalent (besides the private meeting the the gorsei which up even I can’t explain) is that his general cheeriness and lackadaisical disposition is more of a presented front, a mask to be slipped on and off at will which would be fine if he weren’t often put in the same boat as Roger and Luffy two people ( for as much as we know about roger) who have no masks at all.

Don’t get me wrong I’m pretty sure that Shanks is a naturally happy, good natured dude but he’s also the most politically minded pirate we have seen on the show (and some of these pirates were actual politicians) like I’m pretty sure Roger is more mature and secretive than Luffy ( makes sense he’s older and has seen more of the world) but with both of them you never get the sense that their silliness is something they are putting on for the direct purpose of making themselves less of a threat. They both can get serious when the situation calls for it but that feels more of an extension of their already established personality more than a hidden personality.

While with shanks it’s undeniable that something changed within him and his goals the day Roger died I don’t know if Roger actually told him something or if he just wasn’t dealing with the abandonment well it was probably a mix of both honestly. But yeah Shanks comes off as a guy with his ear to the ground someone who has schemes on schemes on schemes. he’s someone playing in the long run, kind of like crocodile but not nefarious. And when compared with a straight forward head first always kinda guy like Luffy, like he often is, he can come off a little suspicious.

There’s something that’s a little fake about his cheer, something a little too performative about his optimism and foolishness. I think it’s a mix of; he’s housing a deep sadness, he’s more of a realist that an optimist and also dudes just a pacifist unlike like luffy who loves to brawl ( like luffy knows when it’s better not to fight but he also loves a good fight) and he would rather deescalate a situation than fight it out and sometimes the easiest way to do that is with an air of cluelessness and making yourself seem less of a threat which makes it so much more jarring but effective when he reveals just how big a threat he is. but I can see why people think it’s suspicious.

(Interestingly even when luffy tries to emulate this behavior like when he first encountered Bellamy at the pub his plan is to just not react which while in the same vain is very different than Shanks actively playing the drunken good natured take it on the chin role for the bandits Luffy was still essentially himself he just refused to react while Shanks played a role which made it more terrifying and effective when he stopped)

Also it doesn’t help that until recently he’s largely been missing from the narrative with just a man echoing or a whisper here or there of how powerful he is.

But I think we should remember that Shank’s goal is essentially world peace. and peace, a true lasting peace, is just a little more of a precarious balancing act, than utmost freedom. For freedom you have to destroy the old game, for peace you have to learn to play a new one, hopefully with a bit more kindness injected into the foundation.

[cinnbar-bun]

The Heartless Giant Pt. 3

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: You try to get the cigar for the giant, and uncover a few tidbits from the past that leave you with more questions than answers....

Notes: Smoking. Uhhhhh don't smoke if you don't want to I know I made it sound cool here but do recognize they're not that cool and also that you don't need to smoke. Reader is kinda convinced to try it once.

Part 1 Part 2 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom

Procuring a cigar would not be difficult to achieve. Procuring a cigar that your father would enjoy, however,  was a different matter. You had heard your brothers discussing the outrageous costs of them before- they were so expensive and special that other royal or noble families had presented them as gifts or tributes to your father. He rarely ever smoked, but on the few occasions he did, it was always with those expensive cigars. 

You knew where he kept them, in a small, cedar humidor in his study on the third shelf. That was the easy part but taking them from the box would be difficult. The humidor was locked with a tiny key, a fact you knew after your brothers attempted to steal from his stash when they were young teenagers. Considering your father was almost always in his study, it would be hard to sneak in and look for the key.

For a moment, you thought about just giving the man in the cell a cheap cigar to stave him off. Surely, he wouldn’t know better, would he?  

You sighed and shook your head at your own foolishness. The man was in the lowest cells and could kill you without flinching. Why were you going to test his patience by giving him an obvious fraud? You walked past the door to the study, contemplating what to do next when your father stepped out of the office with a raised brow. 

“Ah, (Y/n), good afternoon,” he smiled as his eyes met yours. 

“Father, good afternoon,” you smile back, before the gears in your mind start spinning as an idea forms in your head. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, I was just thinking of taking a stroll around the gardens. Care to join me?” He asked politely. 

“Sorry, I have to decline today. I was going to read,” you fib to throw him off. “May I see one of your diplomacy books?” 

Your father shrugged and motioned toward the door. “Feel free to, the books are always for you to enjoy.” 

You grin and thank him, waving him off as he begins to descend to the gardens. You close the door to his study and breathe a sigh in relief. What good fortune you had to have gotten the study clear so easily. You wait a brief moment to make sure your father doesn’t come back before you grab the humidor from the shelf and then rummage through his desk. On top is a bunch of files and reports talking about budgets and possible forecasts- rain should be expected soon as well as a bountiful harvest- and his “lucky” pen he adores so much. 

In the drawers is nothing but mementos of you and your brothers. Stationary. More pens. Clips, stamps, ink, folders, and old papers. No key. 

You sigh and get frustrated as you open the last drawer, gasping as you see only a flintlock pistol inside. The pistol is shiny, obviously well-kept and maintained. You’ve been into this office many times, yet you never knew such a weapon would be kept here. 

It made sense, you tried to assure yourself, but the fact your father always had this pistol and maintained it made a shiver run down your spine. You closed the drawer without a second thought, not wanting to think of the implications of such a thing being in there. 

Still, no key. You frantically looked at the shelves for any sign or hint of a key. Nothing. You glanced at the humidor and angrily tried to pry it open with force. Barbaric? Perhaps. It was similar to something your brothers would do, but you knew you didn’t have much time to waste if you wanted to get the answers your mind was screaming for. 

Damn that man and his need for expensive cigars!

As you were continuing to scuffle with a box, the door to the study opened wide as your father stood at the door. 

You gasped and flung yourself back, accidentally bumping into an armored statue that he had near his desk. You knew you had been caught, your hands were all over the crime scene and the guilty look on your face did nothing to give you even a semblance of plausible deniability. You nervously raised your eyes from the ground to look at your father, but instead of an angry or accusatory expression, he seems quite amused. 

“My, my, I didn’t expect you would be so bold as to snoop through my office like that,” he said with a low chuckle. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, knowing your cover has been blown. He hadn’t been gone long at all, barely even a few minutes, yet the way he snorted seemed to confirm everything he needed to know. 

“You were that desperate to smoke?” He asked. 

“No…” you begin. 

“Ah. Were you attempting to get them for your brothers?” Your father questions. Your eyes widen when you realize you couldn’t deny it, since he’d get more suspicious of your intentions. 

“Maybe,” you lie. 

“I didn’t take you for someone who wanted to smoke,” he rubbed his chin. “Then again, I guess it would be silly for me to assume you would remain the same as when you were a young child. Although, lying to me to sneak in did hurt me a bit.” 

“How did you know?” You ask. Your father chuckles again. 

“You and your brothers have been acting suspicious all day. I figured something must have been going on. I also know that you have plenty of books on diplomacy, many of which I already own here. You would not gain anything new, so I wanted to see what you were really planning.” 

You sigh, forgetting that your father- although a noble and gentle man- could be so observant and calculating in his plans. “Well, you weren’t called the ‘Hero King’ for nothing, I suppose.” 

“Now, now, I may be your father, but even when I was a young lad, I too liked to indulge in some bad behavior,” your father says, walking over to his shelf. “If you would have looked a bit closer…” 

He pulls out a red book titled A Key to Diplomacy and hands it to you. The book is rather light despite its size. 

“I don’t really need this-” 

“Just open it,” he sagely nods. You’re confused by what he’s trying to do before you open the book and find the inside of it is hollow. In the hollowed book, there is a small key. You pull it out and your father nudges his heads towards the humidor. 

“I had it hidden in there since I doubted your brothers would ever try to open a book like that.” 

You laugh at the absurdity of this situation as you open the humidor. Your father leans over to grab two cigars and a cigar cutter. 

“Two?” You comment, while your father begins to light one up. 

“I figured since you were so curious, I could allow you the chance to try one. Lord knows I need one.” 

He brings the cigar to his mouth while he hands you the other one. You watch as he inhales the tobacco and exhales a large puff of smoke. The smell is strong, wafting and covering the room in a short amount of time. It’s a bit intimidating, but you continue to watch. 

“Do you really feel better after smoking one?” You ask curiously. 

“I think I do. Maybe it’s the fact I’m doing something else besides paperwork that eases me. Or maybe I put it in my head that it does. I can’t be certain, but I can assure you that a nice cigar does relax me when times are tough,” your father admits, tapping the cigar against the ashtray. 

You look down at the cigar in your hands as your thoughts drift to the man in the cellar. Is that why he was desperate for a cigar of all things? Does it really ease his mind? 

“You’re off thinking again,” your father comments. 

“What?” You ask, focusing back on your father. 

“You’ve had a dazed look on you since the morning. Are you troubled by something?” He asked with a gentle and sympathetic look in his eyes. 

“Oh… no, I just was thinking of… things,” you try to say. 

“Do you wish to speak of these ‘things’?” “No, father. I’m sorry. I’ll get over it soon,” you reply. After all, once you get the man’s name then… perhaps you can rid him in your mind. Your father shrugs casually and smiles. 

“I understand. Do know that I’ll always be there to help you, dear. You are my precious child, a gifted one that I am lucky to have,” his face softens. The compliment makes your cheek flush and your lips curve upwards. 

“Thank you, father. I appreciate it.” 

“Anytime, my child. Now, since we have a few moments to spare, why not catch up with me?” 

The talk with your father lasts for a while, with you two discussing random topics of interest. He muses on his rebellious youth, admitting he was a troublemaker. He says he once enjoyed fighting anything and everything, a habit he was lucky to have grown from. 

“It might seem strange to admit, even whilst I charge headfirst to battle, but the best weapons one can wield… it is your mind and your heart.” 

“Mind and heart?” You say, unconvinced. You do value your mind, but something about the way he said that makes you curious. 

“Yes. If I had no conviction or love for my people and kingdom, there would be no kingdom left standing. If I was simply a violent tyrant who enjoyed blood for the sake of blood, there would be no happiness or joy in here. That is what separates humans from beasts. I love with all my heart, proudly and without fear.” 

You let his words sink in and mull over them. 

The giant below… does he count? Is he worthy of love? Can he love? 

“Do you think everyone is worthy of love?” 

“Now that’s a good question,” your father hums, looking less like the wise king and more like a regular man with every second of this conversation. “Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don’t. As the king, I make tough choices every day. I would love to be able to forgive and pardon everyone. I would love to have no enemies, no strife, no war- I would love for my position to simply cease from existence as we explore what the world has to offer.” 

Your eyes widen as you hear your father’s admission. “You don’t wish to be king?” 

“It is a heavy burden, my dear child. It weighs down on you constantly. And deep down, no matter how much I dream of being the ideal king, the best ruler, the kindest and noblest man in the world…” he stands up, pushing his cigar into the ashtray as he has his back face you while he looks out the large window behind his desk. The shadow of his figure covers you, shielding you from the bright light of the evening sun. He reaches his hand out to caress the suit of armor. 

“But you are that king, father. You are that- to the people, to me-,” 

“You do not understand, my child… once in a while, I think back to those battles, to those wars I’ve fought. I’ve slain and nearly been slain countless times,” he sighs. “I think of the way I was near death, near exhaustion, bleeding, bruised, broken. Sometimes…” 

He glances back to you, with a somber smile and blank eyes that sends a chill down your spine. “I miss it.” 

You gasp as your father’s eyes return to the warmth it once had as he sits back down. 

“I am not the perfect man. That has always been true. But I can do good, and as such, I choose to do so, no matter how the monster within me screams. I am a father, a king, and a leader- I no longer work for myself. I work for my people. And that means I must be stricter with myself.” 

Your hands tremble as you grip the cigar and look down at your lap. You don’t know what to think of what your father just said, admitting to the fact that deep down, he enjoyed battles and killing. The gun in his desk, was it for protection, or was it possibly for his desire to return to the days of his old glory? You try to exhale. Your father wasn’t so careless and bloodthirsty. Even though he admitted this, he had also said he restrained himself for his duty. 

And yet… why did the thought of his true nature repeat over and over in your mind? 

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Your father asks sweetly. 

“Y-yes. I am. I asked a question and you answered,” you try and force a smile on your face. “I never knew you thought that way.” 

“It does run through my mind on rare occasions. But I do not let it stop me from doing my duty. I truly do love what I do and my life. That is why I fight for it.” 

You nod along, eager to take a break from here. “Thank you, father. I think I’ll be leaving, now. I’ve taken up enough of your time.” 

“Oh, dear, you’ve made my day better. I enjoy talking with you and listening to you. It makes me feel I’ve done right as a father,” he grins. You feel guilt inside your heart as you glance at the cigar in your hand, knowing you only talked to your father in order to give this to his sworn enemy. 

“Father, here,” you give the cigar back to him, not feeling worthy of the smile he has given you. After what he discussed with you, perhaps it was best to drop the subject entirely. Your father, however, pushes your hand back to you and shakes his head. 

“I’ve no need for all of these cigars. Please, keep it, whether you intend to light it or not. At least as a memento of my trust for you.” 

Your heart clenches in your chest as you nod feebly. 

“Thank you. I’m happy you trust me.” 

Your father chuckles and hands you a cigar cutter and lighter. “For whenever and whatever you decide to do. I will always support you.” 

You grip the items in your hand and thank your father again before leaving to your room. 

Guilt, guilt, guilt- it eats away at your heart while your mind screams for you to not continue with your plan. There is no point, no worth, no use to seeing that man. Oh, but your heart… but what if he is different than what once was assumed? What if he was simply in need of love? What if all he ever needed was just one more chance? 

Do it. No, don’t. We don’t need to be in more trouble. 

But can’t we? Why would we? 

Oh, damn you! Don’t you see this is difficult? 

The two sides of you disagree and argue, until you huff in frustration and grab the items. 

Forget it, we’re going. 

You sneak back into the dungeons, not even noticing the chills due to your anger at your torn feelings. 

You’re an idiot, (Y/n). What good is this? Father said he trusted us, and now look what we’re doing!

“You think too loud,” a voice cuts through your inner thoughts as you look up to come face to face with the giant. He’s smiling, eyeing the things in your hands. 

“What do you mean?” You ask in an accusing tone. 

“You look as if you’re in a fight, dear. Are you always this lost in thought, your highness?” He mocks you. 

“Oh, quiet you, you’ve put me in a rather big bind. You should be thankful I’m even giving them to you,” you frown, holding the singular cigar and cigar cutter to him. He waves his hook dismissively while his one hand expertly cuts the cigar. 

“Yes, yes, thank you very much. My… your father really must have an eye for quality. These are perhaps the best cigars out there,” he says as he examines the cigar. He curls two fingers in a repeating motion. “Lighter,” he commands. 

You fumble with the lighter in your pocket and shakily try to ignite it. The man rolls his eyes at your incompetence and guides your hand with his hook to the cigar. The flame slowly roasts the cigar as he takes a deep inhale of it. He immediately throws his shoulders back and lets out a pleasured sigh. 

“Ah… oh how I missed this,” he mumbles, his body relaxing. 

“Well, are you going to keep your end of the bargain?” You fold your arms. 

“Patience. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were desperate to get to know me,” he teases, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. You grimace at the scent while the man revels in your disgust. His hook reaches through the bars again and tilts your chin up. He gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide smirk. “You look so stressed, your highness. Why don’t you relax?” “I’m not worried about that right now. Besides, I’m fine,” you huff. 

“Nonsense. Here, let me help,” he twirls the cigar around to you and holds it in front of you. You glance between it and him while he hums. “What? Never smoked before?” “No,” you admit to him. 

“What a shame,” he bemoans, going back to take a puff of his cigar. “And here I thought we were bonding something special. Although, perhaps it’s good you haven’t taken up such bad habits.” 

“Really?” “Yes,” he eyes you. “I wouldn’t want you of all people to end up like me.” 

“True. Why do you like to smoke so much? You could’ve asked me for anything, yet you chose a cigar of all things.” 

“It’s a hard vice to let go of. I once was free to do as I could. Forcefully being unable to pick up one whenever I chose drove me a bit… mad,” he laughs humourlessly. “I find it clears my mind. You look as if you desperately need that.” 

He faces the cigar to you once more. You feel your previous conviction falter when he gives you that eager look and nods his head for you to try it. 

“I guess once could not hurt…” you begin as you grab the cigar and put it to your mouth. You inhale a large amount of the smoke before you feel your lungs screaming. You remove the cigar quickly and cough out puffs of smoke, wheezing while the man pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“You really are too much, sometimes. You don’t breathe it in to your lungs,” he chastizes you, grabbing the cigar from you. “You breathe it in, hold it in your mouth, let the taste settle on you for a few seconds, then exhale. This is expensive stuff, not a cheap joint.” 

He shows you the motions and hands it back to you. You cough once more before trying it again, just the way he did it. You exhale some smoke, thankfully not choking, but not enjoying the taste. 

“I don’t get it. It tastes like crap.” 

“It’s an acquired taste. Maybe you should bring me another, and we could try again.” 

“Absolutely not, I’m not going to do all that again to try and smoke some lousy cigar. You still haven’t told me your name.” 

“Crocodile,” he casually states. “Hah, hah, how funny. Be serious,” you frown. He shrugs and continues to smoke. 

“Oh well. You don’t believe me.” 

“There’s no way you are named Crocodile. That’s a ridiculous name. Not to mention, that was once from the hero of-” 

“Alabasta?” 

“Yes! Alabasta! And that…” your eyes widen as you see his shoulders bounce due to his laughter. “You can’t be serious.” 

“I am. It’s not my fault you don’t take my word.” 

“Then why is a hero in this jail?” 

“Reasons. Reasons you will not know or understand,” his voice evens out, looking down at the floor. 

“What, am I supposed to give you something, then you’ll tell me?” “I’m afraid my motivations can’t be bought, my dear,” Crocodile admits. “Entice me with something, though, and I may change my mind.” 

“I don’t think I have anything ‘enticing’ to offer.” 

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong…” he leans in closer to you and eyes you up and down. “Perhaps another time.” 

“What? What are you-” 

“Mmm, nothing. It’s just a thought came to mind.” 

You roll your eyes at his vague words. “Never mind, I can see how someone as cruel as you ended up here.” “And yet you keep coming down to talk to me, dear. Why don’t you give me your name as well, since it’s obvious you are interested in me.” 

“I am not. I am just repaying the favor from before,” you quickly correct him. 

“My mistake, yes, that’s what’s going on.” 

“I don’t like your attitude!” Your face flushes as you fan yourself. “It’s (Y/n).” 

“(Y/n)...” Crocodile repeats, like a prayer. “I will admit, it is definitely a beautiful name. Far better than Crocodile, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“You think so?” 

“Mhm. (Y/n), it sounds like royalty. It fits you well, your highness.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble, unsure of why your heart is elated he was complimenting your name. 

“Would you look at the time, your highness,” Crocodile states after a few quiet moments. “You should be getting back upstairs. I’m sure your father would be wondering where you are. He wouldn’t want to find you messing around down here, now would he?” 

“Right,” you shake your head, pushing aside all the strange feelings inside you. However, despite him saying you should go, you find yourself reluctant to move from your spot in front of him. Crocodile chuckles and this time, reaches to you with his right hand. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and looks down at you. 

“You don’t need an excuse to visit me, your highness.” “Who said I wanted to?” you lie. 

“Perhaps I’ve mistaken your feelings again,” he plays along. “Although, you could always keep me company. It’s very lonely down here.” “No. You have nothing else you wish to share with me,” you retort. 

“I did say if you entice me, I might change my mind. And what is more enticing to a prisoner trapped here for life than a companion?” 

You shouldn’t do this. But then you see those dark eyes and you feel tempted to try and learn. 

“I can see that…” “You’re very kind, (Y/n),” Crocodile says as he removes his hand from your face. “Now run along. But don’t keep me waiting too long, dear.”

[feyascorner]

Hi! So i got a small idea. Playing durge rn, and i keep hearing the narrator calling durge a “unlovable carcass” and they probably never felt a comforting touch nor reassuring words. So how would Astarion reassure durge? If possible could Tav be a male tiefling?

Have a good night/day❤️

a/n. thank you for the request! I only exclusively play durge so i love this prompt <3 redemption durge and spawn astarion are literally meant for each other and we need to talk about this more. I only write for GN!reader/tav at the moment, so I hope that's not a bother!

Your father has never been the loving type.

As the Lord of Murder, he lived up to his name, and since your very existence, you drowned in the blood of innocents and were expected to revel in such environments. But murder does not have time for love. It consumes you whole, leaving nothing behind but a hollow husk of a person that once was. And during your carnage, it seemed to be the norm.

Seeing Shadowheart reunite with her parents was a different experience than you'd been expecting. They wept, for hours, holding one another as if they'd known each other for decades despite being apart for so long. Her mother had kissed her forehead, holding her close as Shadowheart herself could do nothing but tighten her arms around her.

You wonder how comfort comes so easily to them. Years of nothing but destruction and blood have left you raw, with nobody to provide you with an ounce of their own care but the dead bodies of your victims.

An unlovable carcass. Affection is too foreign to you---too good for you.

"Why do you stick beside me?"

Astarion looks up from his wine glass, the moonlight illuminating one side of his face as he turns to you. "What?"

"I'm a bhaalspawn," you frown. "I nearly killed you once."

"Oh, please, darling, that's nothing to dwell on. We got through it, did we not?"

Your eyes fall onto your hands. "That doesn't change my past."

"You're different, now."

"Am I? Am I not still the same unlovable person whose urges call on them for bloody murder?"

He stills, then sets down his cup, his hand reaching for yours. You let him it, and you find yourself staring into the crimson eyes you've come to love dearly. You only wish yours were lovable in return.

There's a comfortable silence.

"I'm not accustomed to having to console you. It's usually the other way around."

You stifle a laugh, and he inches closer, lacing his fingers with your own.

"You are magnificent. Whether you're fighting battles or drenched in blood, you are one of the few things left in this world that I care for," he says. "I could not care less if you are a bhaalspawn or a bloody crocodile. You may think of yourself as unlovable, but you don't get to make my choices for me. And I, for one, choose to love you."

You're taken aback at first, but you manage to recover quickly enough, squeezing his hand. "Some might think of you as foolish."

"Perhaps. I couldn't care less what they think," he shrugs, leaning back on his palms. "When we do inevitably face your father, regardless of whatever choice you make, I am with you, my love."

The warm fuzzy feeling in your chest is one you're unfamiliar with. It's nothing like the erratic thumping of your heart as your blade plunges into a corpse. It's lifting as if you're floating on water, and if you're being completely honest, it scares you. But as he presses his lips against your forehead, you think it's not so bad.

[diminuel]

Question for the Stinky Child Au, post Marineford. Does Luffy know Ace is alive? Does anyone know where Luffy is? Or did he go completely MIA to his family as well? Cause if he also went missing, I feel that would hurt everyone. Cause like…. He’s in hiding after 3d 2y. Does Dragon and Sabo know? Will Ace blame himself for Luffy going missing?

I think it might be tricky to communicate unless they have secure channels, which might not happen until Iva gets back to Momoiro. They'll know that Luffy is in the care of Rayleigh. The last that Luffy will have seen of Ace is that he's still alive, even though Law told him his chances of survival are low. Luffy will just stubbornly cling on to hope until he hears that Ace woke up. (How that info will reach him in the Calm Belt I'm not sure.)

I think Crocodile will stay with Luffy for a bit, at least until Rayleigh shows up, so he'd know about the plan though I'm not sure if he'll accompany him to Marineford to send that message to Luffy's crew. It's possible, but he might also be on his way to Momoiro already. Though I think he's the kind of man who just needs to keep moving. The world just got a whole lot more dangerous for Luffy and he too is now back to being a wanted man. He has to scheme and make plans. Just stubbornly ignoring the trauma and work through it, letting Dragon and/ or Sabo keep a tearful vigil at Ace' bed instead.

I think once he wakes up Ace will just hear that Luffy is safe, that he's training and that they will see each other again. But he most likely will still feel horrible. He was at the center of this war that cost so many lives and his own foolishness nearly led to his brother's death. Plenty of room for some Ace related angst~

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Reader dragging the Cross Guild to a self care day (was this spawned by the first ever ask about them and an onsen? Maybe) and getting them to let reader paint their nails is my passion. Black nails on Mihawk would fit so well. Buggy looks like he'd go for pastels. Crocodile would fight like a caged animal but show him something like golden or a very somber threatening color and he MIGHT allow you under threat of you telling no one and he's not wearing them anywhere but the Guild solely because he doesn't care about the opinions of Buggy's crew enough to pay them any mind and they're too terrified of him to say anything to begin with

Mihawk sincerely wouldn't care, the man's entire aesthetic revolves around the color black and embroidered flowers, and anyone foolish enough to question him will not be long for this world.

Buggy would be legit excited. Pastels, rainbows, nail art, go for it. Make it downright gaudy, he's just living for it.

But yes, Crocodile would be the grumpy one, no doubt at all, just gritting his teeth the whole time you're setting out supplies.

Y/N: sooooo.......*picking up a bottle of violet nail lacquer* if they're too terrified to say anything then should the color even matter?

Crocodile: *venomous glare* Try it and I'll feed you to the bananawanis.

Y/N: *sad puppy eyes🥺* but it matches your eyes and

Crocodile: Stop making that face, it won't work—

Y/N: *sad puppy eyes intensify 🥺🥺*

Croc: GODDAMMIT STOP—

Few hours later and he has the most regal purple nails with shimmery gold accents, and he's never going to admit that he kind of likes them, but you keep catching him examining them with a thoughtful frown.

I mean how is it really any different from all those pretty rings of his anyway