[matsookawa]

𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐲, 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠

𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐢𝐦 𝟐𝟕 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐤. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮) 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭.

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 (^:

❆ 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

❆ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

❆ 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞.

[matsookawa]

I like the way you write for Mihawk. The way you write daily life especially

Daily life has actually been challenging for me to write, so hearing someone say this brings me a lot of relief. Thank you very much!

[matsookawa]

Returning to Mihawk fics after this last Crocodile fic, I promise. Might even throw in a Buggy, who knows?

[matsookawa]

Title: Human Error

Pairing: Crocodile x fem!reader

Word Count: 635

Summary: At the end of it all, he's simply a man who must face the consequences of his actions.

Note: I really enjoyed writing this! I like humanizing Crocodile a little.

Crocodile must have been standing behind the old wooden door for at least twenty minutes. The hallway was dark and he was happy to be swallowed in it. It’s much easier to hide in the shadows than face your fears, but it is also the philosophy of a coward. The right thing to do was enter, that he knew, yet his feet refused to move. He wasn’t ready. And he wasn’t sure if he ever would be.

He had lied to you.

You had spent the last two years under the impression that your husband was fatally wounded at Marineford. And he allowed this belief. He had his reasons, of course. He did not want you so at risk while he himself was exceptionally vulnerable.

Until this point, it all seemed like a decent idea. You were safe, he worked on establishing the Cross Guild, he’d return to you, and all would be well. Of course, he expected lividity, maybe you would speak of divorce at first, but he would talk you down from that ledge until you both resume where you left off.

What he did not expect were the stories he heard from several former Baroque Work employees who stayed behind with you. They spoke of how gaunt you became, how you only spoke lowly and never a decibel higher. They could hear you some mornings, cursing your husband’s name for leaving you alone while furniture slammed into walls. You even refused to move away from a safe house on the outskirts of Alabasta, desiring to remain close to your husband’s body, wherever that may have been.

Crocodile’s heart ached when the employees spoke of nightly wailing. Lasted for three months, they’d said, and mixed with your refusal to eat, they had broken into your room one night when your crying stopped because they feared the worst. It was then Crocodile realized his error in judgement.

All of this is what brought him to your bedroom door. Forced to confront what might have been his gravest sin.

Despite knowing it was what must be done, he could not bring himself to knock on your door. Maybe if he stood there forever, he could relish in the closeness of you without having to face the anguish that comes alongside it. The potential of you not forgiving him, of leaving him wholly and entirely.

“Who’s there?”

Your voice startled him.

So much so, he let out a sharp inhale through the nose that he attempted to quiet, but you heard anyway.

He did not answer.

It had been so long since hearing you speak that he chose to savor the sound instead.

“I said, who’s there?”

Your voice was firmer this time. Crocodile heard a lamp being flicked on and suddenly, yellow light was spilling from the crack at the bottom of the door.

He knew if he responded, you may not open the door. There was a chance you would conclude the whole thing a hallucination and go back to bed.

His heart rammed against his ribcage as he heard shuffling followed by footsteps inching toward the door.

There were shadows impeding the light below the door. Legs, Crocodile realized, as his throat went dry.

He could leave, a small part of him thought. Your forgiveness would still be possible, but so would your anger. If the door remained closed, he would never have to find out which one awaited him on the other side.

The doorknob began to turn.

It was in that moment, the universe presented Crocodile a choice. He could face the wife he had broken, or he could run before she told him exactly what he deserved to hear.

The decision was made then.

The door creaked open,

 and there you were.

A grieving widow peering into an empty hallway.

[matsookawa]

Your Crocodile fics make me ascend, truly.

Absolutely hollerin' at this ask because I followed you a while back after reading your drabble Hollow Passion (Crocodile x reader btw if others would like to read it), so hearing you say you enjoy my writings genuinely thrills me! Thank you so much!

[matsookawa]

Title: Poor Timing

Pairing: Crocodile x fem!reader

Word Count: 611

Summary: Two people faced with a heartbreaking situation.

Note: Fun fact, this was originally a Haldir fic I posted on my LotR blog three-ish years ago. Adapting it for Crocodile was a lot of fun.

Your home was silent, absolutely no sound except the breeze slipping between the tubes of the wind chime on the porch. The chimes’ refrain served as the sole reminder that time is still passing no matter how little you both speak. A feeble attempt to detain the inevitable.

You and he had been sitting at the dining table for what felt like hours. The lump in your throat remained unmoving and the tears brimming your eyes were just waiting for their chance. You eventually found the strength to speak first.

“Is that it then?”

A whisper. The softest of questions that managed to be more painful than the countless weapons he had been bloodied with in battles of time long past. He wondered if this was as difficult for you as it was for him. His eyes, once staring at the papers in the center of the table, rose to meet your own.

“It is.”

Never had Crocodile, a man feared for his ruthless disposition, felt such sorrow in his heart. His answer was detached and the look on your face made your disappointment apparent.

“So it’s just a matter of delivering these to the island's ruler then?”

He almost smiled. You always asked questions you knew the answer to when you were nervous.

“Yes. I will take them as soon as we are finished here.”

You wrung your hands in your lap and your leg bounced slightly beneath the table.

“And then what happens from there?”

He paused and looked at the papers. The words were almost mocking, reminding him all you both were throwing away.

“Our marriage will be annulled.”

His experienced true heartbreak when tears fell over your cheeks. He couldn't bring himself to wipe them away like he used to. He didn't have a right to anymore, he supposed.

"How did we get here, Crocodile?"

Your whimper cut him deeply.

“Some people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes.”

A cry echoed through the home and Crocodile had to force himself to watch your eyes squeeze shut, sobs causing your body to shake. Your dropped shoulders conveyed just how defeated you were.

“Please know this, [Y/N].”

He reached his hands across the table and your eyes opened to peer at him. He beckoned you to place your hands in his. He grasped them tightly, for he knew this may be the last time he would ever get to.

“There will always be a large part of my heart and soul dedicated to you. Nothing can ever change that.”

Crocodile felt a sting behind his lashes. The same eyelashes you would lie awake and stroke before telling him how beautiful he truly was. You pressed your lips together and found the courage to finally look at the papers before you. Who knew such an ordinary item could cause two people’s lives to fall apart?

After a long while, you nodded and gave him a tight smile.

“Just as there will always be a part of mine dedicated to you.”

She squeezed his hands as tears rolled down the pirate's cheeks.

“Thank you for giving me the best years of my life, Crocodile.”

He gave his own sad smile.

“Thank you for giving me the same thing, along with the greatest love I have ever known.”

They spoke no more.

The wind chime outside, once a performer that sang to visitors a romantic melody of an epic love story which rivaled Gol D. Roger and Portgas D. Rouge's, now crooned a despairing ballad as if to tell all four seas the tale of two lovers having to do the hardest thing in one’s life.

Letting each other go.

[matsookawa]

If you’re still taking requests I have thoughts in my head that I’m not cool enough to put to paper! This would be set during Zoro’s time training with Mihawk. Someone (y/n) Zoro knew from his past (can be from his childhood, or a bounty Hunter idc) shows up and requests to be trained by Mihawk, who reluctantly agrees as she can help him train Zoro. Cut to Mihawk assuming she has a thing for Zoro, when she actually has a thing for Mihawk (y/n is old enough that Mihawk having a thing for her isn’t creepy) and then Zoro gets stuck having to help them figure their shit out. Thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

Okay,

So fun fact.

I remember receiving this ask when I posted for requests around the time I got my wisdom teeth out last year. I really struggled with this request for some reason even though I genuinely love the idea of it. Nothing would come to me. However, after a year of reading this ask over and over, I finally did it.

After four entirely different drafts, I just posted the finished product, which you can find here.

Anon, if you're still around: Your patience is invaluable to me.

[matsookawa]

Title: A Man's Crisis

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,826

Summary: It's a humbling experience when a usually confident man finds himself emotionally threatened by a nineteen year old boy who happens to have a close relationship with the woman he loves.

Note: This was a request I unintentionally neglected for a year.

“What are the five S’s?”

Your brows furrowed and you stopped kneading your dough. You stared at the ball, concentrating on your search for the answer. Mihawk always did this. Gave you random test questions all because you once offhandedly mentioned you’d like to know more about wine.

He waited patiently, his body turned to you and his hip against the counter. It wasn’t often time allowed him to really take you in, so when you invited him to be your sous chef, he jumped at the opportunity.

Head shooting up when the answer finally came, Mihawk wished the beaming grin you gave him would stay forever. It was one of the most beautiful sights to behold.

“See, swirl, sniff, sip, savor!”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. “Very good.”

Your smile turned teasing. “Dracule Mihawk, did you just give out praise? What if word gets out to the whole house?”

The swordsman noticed how you moved a little closer. The smell of your perfume invaded his senses and he tried committing it to memory. It was everywhere you were and over time, it became you. Your previous presence in a room was able to be traced and he was always led to where you actually were, your soft smile inviting him to make up something to converse about.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. No one would believe you anyway.”

Your giggle rung through the kitchen and it was as if the entirety of Kuraigana suddenly became exposed to sunlight.

Notoriously nonchalant, Dracule Mihawk was now faced with a truth he couldn’t bring himself to speak aloud. And certainly not to you.

He was absolutely in love with you. And you constantly seeking his praise and asking him to be the first person to try whatever new thing you cooked, was not helping his situation whatsoever.

The soft clanking of swords forced him to stop staring and instead turn to the doorway. Zoro stood, speaking only to you.

“When are you two going to be finished? It’s been two hours and even I know pizza shouldn’t take this long.”

Your gaze remained on Mihawk, but your smile turned softer at Zoro’s voice.

“Some patience would be appreciated, Zo. We’re cooking for four and pizza is not the only thing there is.”

The boy grumbled under his breath, prompting you to gesture towards the refrigerator. “There is a newly bought six pack in there to get you through this difficult time.”

Zoro grabbed the beers. As he passed you to leave, he landed a heavy hand on your shoulder, shaking it as a silent thank you. You pat his hand and he leaves shortly after.

It’s times like these Mihawk is reminded he never stood a chance. Not when you and his protégé had such a close relationship. How is he, too full of fear to even return the brush of your hand when walking side by side, supposed to compete with someone who just yesterday fell asleep on your shoulder during a movie night (which you did not invite Mihawk to, not that he cares)?

Sure, you and he playfully flirted here and there during sparring, but maybe that was just something you did when the adrenaline was rushing. Maybe the late-night conversations over a bottle of wine were friendly. Maybe when he surprised you with wine trivia, your grin was because you were reminiscing on a conversation with Zoro.

He was broken from his stewing by your hand on his bicep.

“Everything okay in that busy head of yours?”

His skin burned where your hand lay and he spared a moment to savor it.

“Perfectly fine. We should finish before Perona decides she’s had enough waiting.”

The Gods blessed him with another one of your laughs as you squeezed his arm once, returning to your task.

Later at the dinner table, you’re seated between Mihawk and Zoro. Perona sits across from you, telling a story about her day to anyone who bothered to tune in.

The owner of the house turned just in time to see you playfully shove Zoro who was smiling down at his plate as he leaned back into place.

The grip on Mihawk’s fork grew tighter and you only took notice when you saw the top beginning to bend.

You lightly kick his shin under the table. “What’s going on with you?”

He stabbed his fork into his pizza and grumbled, “Nothing.”

You shook your head and returned to your conversation with Zoro.

After dinner, you found Mihawk in his study. You didn’t bother knocking, as he never complained when you entered without permission.

He was facing the window, looking out over the small training yard. His eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular. He was unmoving and his breathing steady. This was clearly a man in deep contemplation.

“Any crises swimming in that brain of yours I can help with?”

You did not receive a response. How was he meant to tell you the only crisis in his life is the fact that he’s in love with a woman he can’t have?

“I fear you don’t have knowledge in the kind of situation I’m in.”

The familiar scent of you intensified when you stood beside him. You watched him while his own gaze stayed through the glass. He couldn’t bear to look at you in such a low moment.

“Wouldn’t hurt to try,” you said softly.

“I’m in love with someone. Someone who does not see me the same.”

In his peripheral, your smile faltered. He wondered why. Maybe you just lost some respect for him. He was a mighty warlord, a legendary swordsman, known for his ability to remain calm under the utmost pressure. And now, he’s just a boy complaining about his crush not liking him back.

He was about to retract everything when,

“I know we’ve never gotten into the nitty gritty of our lives, but,” you began.

A moment passed where the only noise was the faint sound of Perona and Zoro arguing in the foyer.

“I’ve definitely been in that situation a time or two.”

Mihawk was both surprised and wanting to die at the same time. You? The most beautiful woman on the seas had experience with unrequited love? And also, you’re making the conscious choice to have this conversation with him?

“What was your strategy?”

You snorted. “It’s not sword fighting, Mihawk. There is no strategy. You say your feelings and… just hope they reciprocate. If they don’t, you learn to live with it.”

Mihawk couldn’t keep the tone out of his voice. “Is that how you approached Zoro then? With hope?”

You had furrowed brows and a confused smile when he turned to finally look at you.

“Approached Zoro? What are you talking about?”

“When you began dating.”

His ears tinged red when you guffawed.

“Dating? Are you insane? Do I look like a cradle robber?”

As much as he would like to believe he kept his composure, something in his expression must have given away his confusion because yours morphed into one of amused surprise.

He quickly tried to defend himself. “You’re both the same age.”

“Mihawk, Zoro is nineteen. I’m twenty-seven.”

The great warlord and legendary swordsman, known far and wide for his intelligence and skill, never bothered to ask your age.

“You’re twenty-seven.”

You confirm, “I’m twenty-seven.”

“I met Zoro when he was seventeen and escaping some bounty hunters on my island. He needed a place to hide, so he stayed with me for a couple of weeks. I taught him some tips with his swords and we started writing to each other.”

“You dote on him a lot.” The jealousy was so loud, you were sure Perona and Zoro could hear it from the other side of the house.

“I dote on him because he’s lonely. He doesn’t have his crew, you’re understandably hard on him, Perona annoys him, so he wrote me asking me to come visit.”

The pieces were beginning to finally form the picture.

“And he was too embarrassed to admit that, so he made it seem like you showed up on your own wanting pointers,” Mihawk concluded.

“Yeah. I’ve, uh, been handling swords since childhood.”

He hummed. “So you and Zoro are not together.”

“Correct. However, he did tease me in his letters, saying I would end up an old maid and that his mentor whose home I would be staying at was very handsome.”

You were able to maintain eye contact, but your nerves were given away when you began picking at the hem of your sleeves.

“Really? Zoro called me that?”

Where on Earth he pulled the confidence to tease you, no one could tell.

“Okay, I might have taken some creative liberties in that story.”

He huffed a small laugh and you lit up.

“Then,” he swallowed thickly, suddenly hesitant. Should he take your advice? Speak everything aloud with nothing on his person except hope? What if one of the situations you mentioned in being earlier is one you’re in right now with someone else? What if he’s misread the entire thing?

“You know,” you cut through his thoughts. “If you want to go on a date, all you have to do is ask.”

A time of death would have been pronounced if a medical examiner saw him in that moment. The way his body froze could have easily been mistaken for rigor mortis.

Your lips pressed together to suppress a grin. “Want to know how I know?”

You weren’t generous enough to allow the shock time to pass and part of him was grateful you chose not to let him suffer. His body relaxed as you explained,

“Mihawk, I’m the only person you speak to aside from Perona, Zoro, and Shanks. You refuse to spend any more time than you have to with them, but always drop whatever you’re doing to accommodate my requests.”

After searching your face for any trace of insincerity, he came up empty-handed.

“I was under the impression I was discreet.”

You shook your head. “A man in love never is.”

Silence was shared as the new information settled over you both. Mihawk didn’t notice when he took a step forward, chests almost touching.

“In that case,” he swallowed thickly. “Would you-“

“I would love to go on a date with you, Dracule Mihawk.”

You stepped forward and his hands instinctively found your hips. Your arms decided to station themselves on his biceps. It was at that moment he realized, this must be your favorite part of his body, so he thanked whatever deity is out there that he chose a physically demanding career.

He leaned down slightly until your lips were just barely brushing.

You rubbed his arms softly and teased, “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Mihawk smirked. “That depends,”

“When do you need to aerate a white wine?” The resulting slap to his arm stung, but was definitely worth it.

Note: My headcanon is that Mihawk does not eat pizza with his hands and instead uses a fork and knife.

[matsookawa]

I don't believe in putting my personal life on the internet, but on the off-chance someone sees this, please do not fold for a job that would replace you in two seconds flat. I'm not saying anyone should job hop, but I am currently sick as a dog with a doctor's note and they called me trying to guilt-trip me into coming in anyway ("It's difficult running ____ when staff are out", "X amount of people called out and it's busy").

The world kept turning when I said no, but I remember what it was like when I felt it would stop. It's been made apparent they need me more than I need them (that's not arrogance, that's confidence in my abilities and skillset of five years) and if they intend to keep me, they will let me stay home from work.

I work with toddlers, so I take my illnesses very seriously especially when they're contagious. I am not coming in until there is no danger of it spreading!

[matsookawa]

Title: Adding Insult to Injury

Pairing: Crocodile x fem!reader

Word Count 1,143

Summary: Crocodile's wife tends to his wound while they wait for an actual doctor. The pair have an unusual dynamic.

Note: Finished the new season of live action one piece and was thrilled with how Crocodile turned out. I love this man.

“You are so unbelievably stupid, it makes me physically ill.”

Crocodile hissed as the towel pressed down on the bullet wound in his chest. His irritated gaze found you, his wife, and barked out a response,

“I suggest you watch yourself. I don’t exactly take kindly to criticism. Now, grab me a cigar from my desk.”

You scoffed in disbelief. He wanted a cigar at a time like this? He stumbled into his office where you were napping, a hole in his chest and ragged breaths barely able to tell the events of what happened. Now you had to stand beside his slumped form, bloody rags surrounding you both as you tried your best to stop the bleeding. The doctor said it would take him ten minutes to arrive so all you had to focus on was keeping him alive.

“Absolutely not. I’m pissed at you so part of your punishment is having to do this without a vice.”

He rolled his eyes and halfheartedly tried to turn his torso away, groaning when you yanked it back immediately. He could have easily escaped your grip if he really wanted to, but his love for you overshadowed his pride. In moments like these, you were grateful for that. “Have you lost all compassion, wife, or was that just a show you put on before our wedding to entrap me?”

You chuckled and replaced the soaked towel with a new one. You decided to show him some mercy and the pressure you applied turned gentle.

“I hardly have any compassion to spare, what with the way you come home with injury after injury. Aren’t you supposed to be a terrifying war lord?”

Crocodile’s jaw clenched and you briefly relished getting under his skin. No one else could, after all so why not enjoy it? “Things still happen, even when you’re a war lord. Not that you would know anything about going out to fight.”

It was said sarcastically, but when you met your husband’s gaze, you found nothing but adoration. That was the thing about being married to Crocodile. He would insult you day and night, but the key was knowing that all of it translated into “I love you more than life itself.”

“And whose fault is that exactly, Mr. Zero?”

A smile found itself on his face as he chuckled. “Beautiful women are better kept safe indoors where they can be praised by their husbands after a long day.”

A tongue click. “Or are they better kept indoors so they’re available to patch up the aforementioned fool of a husband?”

Crocodile swore he couldn’t be more in love with you, but every retort, every affectionate insult filled him with an abundance of love and pride. It made him want to shout from every rooftop how he was the luckiest man in Alabasta. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew you’d be right there to tell him, “That’s really embarrassing for you.”

“Hey, you didn’t even respond to my insult. Are you actually about to pass out?”

He laid his head back over the head of his office chair. A lazy smile, eyes closed.

“No. Just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

You watched him for a moment. The jawline you begged him to shave so people could appreciate it with you, the scar across his nose that you just applied soothing ointment to the previous night, the strand of non-gelled hair that hung in his face because you told him having it all slicked back made him look older. It was all him, but it was also you.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in a floor mirror against the wall across from where you sat. The same can be said for you, as well. Your haircut was one Crocodile said he didn’t care about having an opinion on yet still came to the appointment unprompted. Your chapstick was one he gifted to you after making him suffer through one too many questionably flavored kisses. And there was your jewelry.

You used to swear silver suited you best, but then you showed up to a meeting in gold and Crocodile just about took you on the table right then and there. You never wore silver again.

It’s funny how marriage melds two people in a lot of different ways.

“The doctor should be here in just a minute. You need anything from me before they take you?”

Your voice was soft, just in case he had fallen asleep. He was indeed nodding off when he felt your hand on his cheek, your thumb dragging lightly up and down the ridge of his nose.

He hummed. His head turned toward you, but his eyes remained closed. “No. You’ve done enough and you’ve done it perfectly, my love.”

You heard the shuffling of feet outside the door and smiled at your husband. “I love when you get sappy. Reminds me why I married you.”

His chest bounced as he laughed. You pressed the towel a little harder to accommodate.

“Oh, was that all?”

“That, and your endless riches and power.”

Crocodile’s eyes opened and he gently took your hand off his face. He tucked it against the unwounded side of his chest and squeezed.

A knock sounded at the door just as Crocodile spoke his next words,

“I’ll have them put me in our bedroom when they’re done.”

You called for the doctor to enter and turned back to your husband when you felt his thumb trace over your knuckles. A sign you knew meant he had something else to say, but was hesitant to voice it. You knew better than to push him, however.

“Will you wait for me?”

The door creaked and you knew there was only a small window of privacy left for you and him.

You leaned over, placed both hands on the sides of his face, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes didn’t leave yours as you pulled away and smiled.

“Of course I will.”

You greeted the doctor quietly and the man immediately hoisted Crocodile up to his feet, preparing to help walk him to the infirmary. It was only then Crocodile stopped watching you, only when he was forced. If he had it his way, he would spend the full twenty-four hours attached at your hip.

Alas, the world does not cater to his wishes.

They had just made it to the door when he heard you call out, “Don’t give the doctor a hard time.”

Crocodile chuckled. He knew what you really meant was, ‘Don’t let there be cause for any more time spent apart.’

“I’ll take it into consideration.”

You grinned as the door shut behind them. You too had grown accustomed to your husband’s underlying messages.

‘I will not allow even an extra second away from you.’

[matsookawa]

I just finished the new season of the live action One Piece and I was not at all prepared for how good looking Crocodile was going to be. Also, seeing Mihawk again was just [chef's kiss]

[matsookawa]

Someone reblogged and added tags for my crocodile fic saying "acts of services at its best" and now i want to do all the love languages, one for each character.

[matsookawa]

Title: My Love, My Life

Pairing: Crocodile x fem!reader

Word Count: 914

Summary: Crocodile is awoken by his daughter when her nightlight stops working

Note: While you are not a primary character in this piece, you are mentioned, you are alive, and you are the child's mother.

You had always complained to your husband that the bed was much too large for the two of you. Yet here you lay, limbs sprawled out and hitting him with varying intensity each time you adjust. He hoped that by opting for a larger bed, you would sprawl out on your own side. 

How ignorant of him. 

Despite this, he had managed to finally fall asleep after one final shove of your arm off of his forehead.

His slumber was short-lived, however, because soon your bedroom door opened with a creak you had told Crocodile to take care of a hundred times. He stirred and the small pitter-patter of familiar footsteps prompted him to turn his body so he faced the edge of the bed.

He exhaled one, long breath and let his body practically deflate once more into the mattress.  A moment passed and then a small whisper,

“Daddy.”

He didn’t bother opening his eyes and instead, simply slurred out, “Yes, dear.”

Another whisper, “Can I sleep in here?”

Small hands began grabbing at the edge of the blankets before he could even answer. 

“Why? What’s wrong with your room?”

The child, a girl no older than three, huffs an angry breath. Why is she being interrogated? Just let her in the bed!

“My nightlight stopped working and I don’t like how dark it is.”

Crocodile opened his eyes and grunted irritably, but still leaned over to take her under the arms. He barely had her off the floor before she squirmed out of his hold.

“No! You’re going to put me next to mommy!”

The great warlord of the sea shushed her. “Lower your voice!”

She begrudgingly followed instructions.

“You always put me next to her. She hits me!”

Crocodile rolled his eyes. “You’re preaching to the choir, sweetheart.”

The girl crossed her arms defiantly. “I’m not going until you promise I go on the edge with you.”

If there was ever a time in Crocodile’s life that he wanted to kick and scream like a child, it would be right now. His exhaustion was definitely getting to him.

“Fine. Come on. She doesn’t mean to, you know.”

He moved a little ways toward the middle of the bed and pulled down the blanket, allowing his daughter to crawl in beside him. She took a moment to adjust while her father lifted the blankets and made sure they were covering her well enough.

She pressed her tiny body against his chest and buried her face in his neck.

A long breath and sleep almost took her when suddenly, slap!

She felt the reverberation of her father’s pained grunt and lifted her head to peer over his side.

In your readjustment, you had accidentally hit the back of your husband’s neck.

Your daughter settled back into her previous position and whispered, “You were going to let that be me!”

Crocodile huffed, “It’s still being debated, don’t worry.”

A tiny hand beats his bicep once in a feeble attempt to assert dominance. “You’re mean! I’m not talking to you anymore.”

She was jostled when a quiet chuckle sounded from him. “I wish that were true.”

The girl was absolutely astounded at the disrespect. She refused to respond and told herself he would not be hearing a word from her for at least ten years.

“Hey,”

She did not answer him.

“What do you want for breakfast in the morning?”

Silence.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll tell your mother you asked for her soup.”

The girl lifted her head in a panic.

“No, gross! I want pancakes and fruit!”

Crocodile slyly grinned.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

Defeated, the child did one final burrow into her father’s neck and sighed.

“I don’t want to not talk to you. I love you too much.” she mumbled, sleep creeping up on her.

Crocodile, warmed by the sentiments of his daughter, pressed a firm kiss against her crown and squeezed her once.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Rest well, okay?”

The smallest murmur of “You too” sounded and he felt her breaths even out and her small body relax in his hold.

He looked down at her and came to a realization. One day his daughter would be much too big to crawl into her parents’ bed for comfort. A day would come when she moved across the ocean from him and his wife and he would struggle to walk past her empty bedroom. He will be forced to attend her wedding and hand her off to someone he baselessly deems unfit for her. He will call her with no answer because she’s busy taking care of his grandchildren. His daughter will have to navigate this world and he cannot protect her from all its hardships.

It’s best he got some sleep, he decided. He closed his eyes, tears brimming the edges, and attempted to memorize the feeling of his daughter pressed against him.

He fell asleep a grateful man that night. Grateful for a life he believed men like him were never meant to have. A wife he loved more than life itself, who bore him the most spectacular little girl and best friend he’d ever known.

And while he knew there would come a time when he was no longer the first person she runs to, he also knew that right now was a three-year-old, scared of the dark, whose first thought was him.

And for Crocodile, that was more than enough.

[matsookawa]

Title: To Know Her Is to Love Her

Word Count: 1,242

Summary: Dracule Mihawk knows his situationship like the back of his hand

Arms crossed over his bare chest and legs crossed at the ankle is how Mihawk lays atop the covers on the inn’s queen-size bed. The mattress beneath him is wildly uncomfortable, no doubt having been unchanged for a decade, the sheets are far from his comfortable satin he’s grown accustomed to at home, and the irritating ticks of a bedside clock rip away the silence needed for sleep. Not to mention, the lamp is entirely too bright. Despite all of these things, none of them are why he’s still awake.

He murmurs ascending numbers, using the clock to mark how many minutes pass. When he finally sees the numbers 10:50, he lifts his torso from the bed and pivots to the edge. He stands and makes his way toward the ensuite bathroom. He rifles through one of his bags and pulls out his floss dispenser, hairbrush, toothpaste, and an unopened toothbrush. He lays all of them out beside each other on the counter beside the sink. Every movement is precise and with intention, as he needs to be ready when 10:55 comes. Mihawk glances at the clock and mentally notes he now has four minutes left.

He moves back to the bedroom, going to another bag and pulling out a lightweight, long sleeve sweater he hasn’t worn in years. He hangs it on a coat hook beside the door. He side-steps to the thermostat beside the coat hook and turns it up several degrees.

In his peripheral he finds a sturdy wooden floor mirror, facing the wall the bed rests on. His brow furrows and with a soft grunt, he carefully rotates it so its back is to him. Satisfied with the small bout of manual labor, he returns to his bag and retrieves two items: a pillow covered in dark grey satin from his home and a well-worn book. The pillow ends up opposite the essentially flat one he was previously using and the book’s place is the nightstand beside the infuriating clock. Three minutes, he notes.

Mihawk scans the room to see if he’s forgotten anything. He double-checks the things he’s already arranged and once satisfied, decides to spend the final two minutes resting. He returns to his spot on the bed, always the side closest to the window and this time under the covers, closes his eyes, and breathes deeply.

A knock sounds at the door. It prompts Mihawk to open his eyes and they fall on the clock. ‘Right on schedule.’ he thinks. He sits up, awaiting the always mild voice.

A soft murmur of “Dracule, are you still awake?” floats under the door.

“I am. Are you alright, [Y/N]?”

There’s a pause and he knows she’s debating whether or not to ask for entry. Mihawk allows her time to contemplate and, when she finally asks, verbally grants her entry.

The door opens and there stands a woman, hair slightly messy as if she’s spent hours tossing and turning. She’s clad in only a thin tank top and shorts, no socks or shoes to be found. A thin gold chain hangs from her neck, a smaller version of Mihawk’s cross pendant attached to it. A gift from the swordsman many years ago. She hugs herself and her eyes show the weight of her exhaustion.

“I know it must seem like I do this every night and I’m sorry. My room’s thermostat is broken, I only brought the one set of pajamas, and I think I left my toiletry bag on the coffee table back at home.” She shifts her weight nervously. “Would it be okay if I stay here tonight?”

Mihawk pulls back the covers on the other side of the bed and waits.

[Y/N] smiles softly and steps into the room. Her shoulders instantly relax when the warm air hits her. She stops at the foot of the bed and Mihawk lets out an annoyed grunt at her lack of urgency. She rolls her eyes with an affectionate “Oh, hush.”, followed by “I hate to impose a second time, but would it be possible for me to borrow-” “You’ll need to grab it from the coat hook.” [Y/N] tilts her head with a bemused smile. She does as instructed, gazing thoughtfully at the sweater in her hands. Her favorite of his.

“What are the odds?”

Mihawk doesn’t answer because there were indeed no odds at all.

[Y/N] pulls the sweater on and rolls up the sleeves until they’re at her wrists. With a wry laugh she says, “I don’t suppose you packed any extra toiletries.”

He nods toward the attached bathroom. “I may have some spares.”

[Y/N] grins and goes to see for herself. She snorts at the sight of the unopened toothbrush.

“You knew I was going to forget, didn’t you?”

Mihawk lays back on the bed and turns his head to meet her gaze.

She’s a vision, he decides. And how favored by the gods he must be to have the most beautiful woman in his bathroom, in his sweater, by his side.

The two decided long ago they would not put a label on whatever is going on between them, but times like this make Mihawk long for something more official.

“Lucky guess, I suppose.” 

They take each other in for a moment before [Y/N] bashfully returns to the sink to finish her routine. She helps herself to the floss and hairbrush before flicking the light off and reentering the bedroom. She slips under the covers and pulls them to her waist.

“I also don’t care for the selection in their lobby’s library. If you can even call it that.”

[Y/N] doesn’t even register the much softer pillow her head hits when she lays back.

Wordlessly, Mihawk reaches for the book on the nightstand and drops it softly on her stomach. She lifts it to read the cover.

Her eyes practically sparkle as her head whips to him.

“I thought I left this at the port on the last island. How on Earth-”

“A fisherman found it on the docks and returned it to me.”

[Y/N] can only stare at him. She’s absolutely speechless.

Finally, a disbelieving huff of a laugh as she drops the book onto her own nightstand for tomorrow. “Dracule Mihawk, you brilliant, incredible man.”

She props herself up on her elbow, her body now turned toward his. She leans over and brushes her lips against his, her free hand resting on his jaw as their mouths move. He responds in kind until she pulls back. Far too soon, in his opinion.

He extends his arm and [Y/N] curls into his side. Her hand is suddenly captured by Mihawk’s and brought to settle on his chest. Mihawk reaches beside him and turns off the lamp, darkness swallowing the room.

Her legs intertwine with his. Seeking more warmth, no doubt. She’s always run cold and he’s essentially a space heater. He squeezes her body to him once and presses a firm kiss to her forehead.

He closes his eyes and sleep almost finds him when-

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, my room had this really creepy mirror that faced the bed and I would’ve ended up sleeping on the floor because-”

“-because mirrors can become portals for ghosts, yes love, I know. Goodnight.”

She grumbles under her breath and Mihawk knows he’ll be hearing more about her theory over breakfast.

[matsookawa]

Title: A Lion's Consternation

Word Count: 991

Summary: A rough patch in Captain Buggy and [Y/N]'s relationship as told from the perspective of the crew's own Richie the lion.

Note: More challenging than I thought, but I'm fond of this lil' number.

Contrary to popular belief, Richie has always been very averse to change.

So when the day came that Captain Buggy and Y/N’s yelling woke him up from a midday nap, it caused him to pace his room for hours. He refused to leave even when Mohji tried luring him out with his favorite foods. The arguing across the ship only got worse over the next month and Richie had just about worn a hole in the floor. This behavior worried Mohji so badly, he considered veterinary intervention.

Then there was when he was being led down the hallway by his owner and saw Y/N slamming the door to the captain’s quarters behind her. She had tears all over her red cheeks and a bag, clearly haphazardly thrown together, in her hand. Richie didn’t understand what was happening and Mohji felt terrible that he couldn’t explain what was going on. All Richie knew was one of his favorite people was distraught and it made his hackles go up as she let out a sob and ran past him.

Richie didn’t see [Y/N] after that.

He did, however, see Buggy. But not in a state he ever wished to.

At night, Richie typically gets some free reign on the ship as long as he’s back in his room before sunrise. Ever since [Y/N] left, Richie made sure his rounds included passing the ship's kitchen.

It’s there he often found the captain sitting with his back against the wall and a bottle of rum in his hand, others that are empty strewn at his feet.

His head is always in his hands while he quietly weeps in between swallows of liquor.

Richie can tell whatever Buggy is feeling is far stronger than any comfort he can provide, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

He remembers silently approaching his captain and laying on his side a foot away. Close enough to know he’s there, but not too close that he’s invasive.

Buggy’s watery eyes found his own and Richie lifted a paw and stretched, his claws extending for a moment before retracting and letting it drop on Buggy’s leg.

Buggy’s body lurched forward from a big sob and Richie stayed with him until dawn broke.

It goes on like this for what feels like years.

Richie refusing to leave his room except to perform, Buggy drinking his feelings when no one can see, and Mohji desperately trying to hold the broken crew together.

But finally came July 23rd. His own birthday.

He didn’t know it, of course. All he knew was every person on the crew had come to his room that morning, gave him a pat, and said a few words to him. Most importantly, Mohji had held a den den mushi up to Richie’s ear and his ears twitched when he heard [Y/N]’s voice. The only part he could make out is “...Coming”.

After ignoring Mohji’s commands all day and six people dragging him across the floors, Richie arrived in the dining room with his tail swishing along the floor to show his agitation.

There were blue and yellow decorations on the wall and a table full of raw meat. And why was the entire crew here? Why was-

His eyes scanned the room and stopped on a woman standing next to his friend, Cabaji.

Richie’s eyes dilated and, as if on instinct, he ran to her. He pushed his head into her stomach and it caused her to fall backward. He laid down and army-crawled on top of her, nudging his nose into her neck. He no longer cared where [Y/N] had gone because she was back.

Happy noises emitted from her and Mohji had to physically pull his pet off of her.

There was still unresolved tension when [Y/N] and Captain Buggy were near each other, but Richie made sure to station himself between them during dinner. If this was the only time he’d get with them both then he would savor it.

It was when everyone had gone to bed that Richie began his nightly rounds.

He stopped by the kitchen door when he heard sniffling. Ready to comfort his captain once more, he peered around the doorframe.

[Y/N] and Captain Buggy were standing at the kitchen island across from each other. They were both teary-eyed and gesticulating wildly. They hadn’t even noticed Richie yet.

Richie’s ears lay flat against his head and he tries to make himself smaller at the sound of their voices rising.

After a few minutes, their voices grow quiet and they become softer to each other.

[Y/N] says something with a small cry that makes Buggy’s shoulders drop in concern and Richie watches as the captain goes to her and embraces her tightly. She cries into his shoulder while he kisses her temple.

Richie worries [Y/N] is saying goodbye again. There’s yelling, there’s crying, and now she’s going to leave. That’s how it went the first time, isn’t it? The thought causes his back to hunch and his tail to swish again. The thumping of his tail against the floor is what makes [Y/N] finally notice him.

She turns and gives a watery smile to her beloved feline friend. Richie hears “Come” and doesn’t hesitate. He plops himself on the floor next to his friends while they continue talking and holding each other. This time it is much lighter and the tension is slowly dissipating.

Richie’s ears slowly return to their normal position when Buggy’s hands rub up and down [Y/N]’s back and she leans forward to kiss him. When they part, [Y/N] lays her head on Buggy’s shoulder once more, this time with a warm smile.

Buggy mumbles words into [Y/N]’s hair and while Richie doesn’t recognize all of them, he does recognize a sentence Mohji always told him before going to bed:

“I love you.”

Note: Again, very challenging, but fun. Trying to convey everything through a character who doesn't speak and doesn't understand every spoken word was tricky. Big Richie fan though, lol.

[matsookawa]

Also, sorry I type everything as if I'm writing a legal document. I'm a stickler for grammar and spelling, and cannot bring myself to type too casually, even in light conversations or outside of my writings. The farthest I get is "lol", but even that gives me a small, visceral reaction.

I'm fun, I promise. 😮‍💨

[matsookawa]

Hiii, I'm honestly curious about your headcanons about crocodile, he's such an interesting character to read!

To preface this, my headcanons for Crocodile are in the romantic sense w/ a fem!reader. so if you're looking for general headcanons for Croc alone, sorry about that. With that being said, let's talk about my mans!

(Note: mentions of both child and adult death)

-Childhood friends to lovers to enemies to (kind of) lovers.

-Instead of his loss to Whitebeard being the reason Crocodile stopped romanticizing piracy, it was [Y/N] being taken hostage after he challenged a well-known pirate for their territory. The one scheme he didn't involve [Y/N] in.

-After that, the rose-colored glasses came off. There was no more trying to do things the "traditional way". After getting her back, Croc decided you have to manipulate if you want to get where you need to be.

-[Y/N] didn't have any hard feelings about the hostage thing and they put their brains together to figure out next steps. All they knew was they were going to build an empire. Together, as equals.

-Y/N made a comment in passing about maybe taking advantage of pre-existing unrest like someone they had seen in a history book. Crocodile came up with the guise of a bounty hunting business. Thus, Baroque Works was born.

-That's when the paranoia of who he can trust came in. His ideals were betrayed when that pirate took Y/N from him and made him realize strength and ambition mean nothing if they're not controlled. He's put too much into this business to have something like that happen again.

-[Y/N] was the only person he could be 100% honest with. She was equally as strategic and straight-thinking and when you spend every waking minute of every day with the same person for the last thirty years, you tend to have some blind faith in them.

-Until suddenly you don't.

-All it took was a child. An eleven-year old boy sent by an enemy to infiltrate baroque works for information.

-Long story short, Y/N made a grave error in judgement and despite it being the first time in decades, it took Crocodile no less than a day to hold a gun to her head and demote her to the very bottom, all of his love for her now lost (or so he thought).

-Due to the circumstances and out of spite, Y/N decided it was not the right time to tell Crocodile they were pregnant.

-They hated each other from that day on.

-Being demoted meant barely seeing Crocodile, so Y/N was able to hide the pregnancy relatively easily.

-She had gone through everything completely by herself. Colleagues refused to mind anyone else's business so they were no help to her. Morning sickness, feeling the baby's first kick, body pain, all while having a full-time job. She did it alone.

-It wasn't until the ninth month that Y/N ran into her replacement, Nico Robin, in the archives. One look at her stomach and Y/N knew Robin was going to snitch. She's the only one with the balls.

-Y/N was dragged to the nearest medical room as soon as it was known they were carrying Crocodile's heir, yet the man himself didn't show himself until she was actively in labor. [Y/N], who somewhere deep down still loved him, resented him for waiting until the last possible minute.

-Crocodile basically ripped the child, a boy, away from Y/N as soon as they were finished and left them sobbing on a table alone in a medical room.

-Flash forward a year, Crocodile gets imprisoned in Impel Down and Robin rightfully returns the infant to his mother before Baroque Work collapses immediately after.

-She and the child escape, but OF COURSE a few weeks later, Crocodile escapes prison and the first person he's hunting down is his ex-wife so he can get his son back. Someone has to carry on his legacy.

-[Y/N] had been keeping the child safe in a nearby village, but Crocodile manages to find her within the next two years.

-After a fierce standoff, he finds out from [Y/N] that their three year-old is ill and probably won't make it.

-They're together when it happens and it shakes Crocodile to the core.

-It's tenfold when he walks in on his ex-wife laying on her side in the bathroom wailing into the tile from grief.

-He makes the decision to hold her. A lot has happened since he sent her away and his feelings about trust have changed. He was able to raise their child for a year before his imprisonment.

-Prison gives a man a lot of time to think.

-Y/N was hesitant to allow him to stay, but did.

-She had just lost her baby, so what if he decides to kill her?

-He ends up asking her why she betrayed him then abandoned him when everything failed. She explains the baby was more important than trying to rebuild a now defunct world domination scheme.

-Then she hit him with the "YOU were more important than trying to rebuild a defunct world domination scheme. I only joined because you would leave me behind if I didn't. When you left me behind anyway, I realized there was nothing I could do."

-Flash forward a bit, they remember why they fell in love in the first place, go through the grieving process, and get back together.

-Crocodile has now become a wild-card in the pirate world and kinda does his own thing, but with the addition of his wife.

-Another year passes and things are going well for both.

-Until they're not.

-Y/N gets attacked by an old familiar face and is killed (i have someone specific in mind and a certain way, but that will be saved for a fic!)

-Crocodile is left with a deceased child and deceased wife, going into a descent of insanity for a bit.

-He has an emotional episode and comes out of the insanity though

-He joins the Cross-Guild and vows that everything he does going forward is for his wife and son.

-It's the only way he can cope with the regret and guilt that he's now forced to live with. All of the lost time spent without his family weighs on him heavily each day (see his line near the end of my "How Exciting" Mihawk fic)

-I have an entire story fleshed out about this down to the details and dialogue. Someone can let me know if they'd like a one-shot focused on one specific part of the story.

-I don't want to overwhelm you or anyone else with more headcanons, but believe me when I say they're there lol.