Pairings: Crocodile x nb! Reader
Summary: Crocodile comes back to your shared room and finds you still awake. You're upset, having self-doubts. He comforts you.
Tags: hurt, comfort, smoking.
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind Crocodile as he stepped into the suite, his long coat draping like a shadow over the floor. The scent of salt, sea breeze, and faint cigar smoke clung to him from the night’s meeting with Mihawk and Buggy. He expected silence — perhaps you were already fast asleep in bed, curled under silk sheets like you usually were this late.
Instead, firelight flickered across the room.
And there you were.
You were sitting in his chair. The one you had always teased him about being "obsessed with" ─ curled up with your knees drawn to your chest, wearing that oversized sweater that used to be his. And between your fingers? One of his cigars.
You weren’t even smoking it properly, just letting it burn slowly at the tip, puffing occasionally. Smoke curled lazily into the air from your lips each time you took a shallow puff. Your distracted eyes are fixed on the dancing flames of the fireplace.
He approached you, his heavy boots against the wooden floorboards announcing his presence. He stood beside you for a moment, observing your contemplative expression.
Crocodile raised an eyebrow. "You're sitting in my chair."
You turned slowly toward him, exhaling a thin stream of gray smoke. " 'm.. borrowing it," you mumbled.
"And smoking my Cohiba?" He crossed the room in three long strides and plucked it gently from your fingers before inspecting it like an offended sommelier. "This costs more than that clown's entire wardrobe."
"Then don't leave them lying around if they're so precious," you said flatly, too quiet for sarcasm to land right.
He frowned slightly ─ not at the words but how they hung. Too heavy for casual quips. That voice... dull where it should've sparked. Especially after weeks filled with laughter whenever Bon clay dropped by uninvited for tea and petty drama.
"You're not even enjoying this," he muttered, returning to Grouch beside you. "You never inhale deeply. You barely know how."
"just liked watching it burn."
Silence stretched as flames snapped softly between them. You gently took back the cigar, taking another puff.
Then he spoke. "You're upset."
It wasn't gentle. It never was when coming from Crocodile- but it's not cold either. It was like stating weather patterns just before a storm breaks.
You looked away first. "Just.... tired,"
"No," His hand came up slowly, hook brushing along the chair back while real fingers cupped under your chin, turning your face towards the firelight. "Tired doesn't make someone steal my cigars or sit alone pretending to smoke."
Your breath hitched once.
And then, you broke. "I'm not pretending," you whispered, "I find the smell... the taste, it's all comforting... when you're not here."
He studied your face now. The way shadows dipped beneath tired eyes and something shifted inside him.
The glow flickered across hollows beneath your eyes, the way your shoulders curled inward like they carried something heavy.
His thumb brushed along your jawline before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Tell me."
You looked away, watching embers crackle and die in the hearth. “I don’t know,” you murmured. “Just... one of those nights where everything feels too loud inside my head.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stood — long coat falling into place and without another word, he sat beside you. His arm draped over you, pulling you closer as his hook, a tool that was used for so much violence, was now carefully placed inorder not to cut you.
you were now sitting sideways across his lap with no room left between the two hearts that beat with different tempos but now holding the same rhythm.
Your cheek rested against his chest.
"I can hear it," you whispered, "how calm yours is." your finger traced over the design embroidered into his vest.
“Mine’s always calm,” he said quietly, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. "Because someone has to be. for both of us.”
A weak laugh escaped but quickly faded into silence again.
He let it stretch. not rushing, not pressing. just letting warmth seep through fabric and bone alike until finally,
“Talk.” One word only but one that was never meant to sound softer by such hardened lips.
So you did.
You talked about fears unspoken since joining this life. the weight of living under Cross Guild banners while knowing enemies still whispered vengeance against him. About how useless you felt when he got taken to impel down. About wondering if love strong enough could survive betrayal from outside forces…or worse. from within yourself?
“And tonight…” Your voice cracked once. "I just kept thinking-.. if something ever happened to me…would all this ... the alliance, peace we've built.. would it all collapse because I was too weak?"
Crocodile listened. truly listened. in that rare way only men who’ve lost kingdoms understand. patient ears for pain others wouldn't name aloud.
Then-
“No.” he spoke.
Simple. Certain. Unwavering.
"If anything happened…" He paused, tightening embrace ever so slight,
"...the world wouldn't end because fate took someone fragile- it would burn because I made sure everyone responsible paid for it."
Another beat—
"But nothing will happen," more gently now, "because I guard what matters to me. even when you forget how much power lies simply...in existing beside me."
Tears started slipping. you couldn't stop them but nor did shame follow, not here. not when held like this where even shadows bowed before the golden hook that cradling back protectively as though welding seal upon soul itself.
The fire cracked again, and for once, Crocodile remained silent longer than normal, gaze locked onto flame rather than yours.
as if searching memory not for solutions but moments shared. soft laughs while drunk during alliance feasts, mornings waking tangled together despite sworn claims that neither of you liked spooning but instead “Only tolerated it due to being cold.” days when even Buggy made jokes less grating because you laughed first.
And long after words stopped,
he stayed there.
firelight dancing over scars and steel both, holding what remained most priceless beyond crowns or conquests.
You, only you.
Not a trophy. Not a prize. But the quiet center of his rebuilt world. The one thing no warlord’s pride or pirate’s greed could ever quantify. And Crocodile had spent decades denying feelings... until you made them unavoidable.
The fire dimmed low, embers sighing as they faded into ash.
His hook shifted slightly behind you. careful, always careful. not because he feared hurting you, hell. he’d cut off his own arm twice before letting that happen, but because tenderness was still unfamiliar territory for hands built to destroy.
Yet here he was. guarding softness like it was treasure buried beneath ruins only he could read.
"You were never weak," he murmured suddenly, voice rough with restrained conviction. "When I broke out of Impel Down… every step forward. I did it picturing you. your voice telling me to come back."
A pause.
"I didn’t survive for revenge."
His thumb traced slow circles at your thigh where his hand had been resting. "I survived so I could come back to this. to warm rooms and stupid cigars stolen from my pockets… and you sitting in my damn chair, waiting."
You tilted your head up slightly against his chest, eyes glassy but searching, “Even when I’m this much trouble?”
"Especially then," came the reply. dry at first, then softened by something almost shy. "Trouble means you’re alive. Breathing. and here for me." He kissed the crown of your head. "... that means I haven’t failed yet."
Silence returned- but this time it was different now. Lighter.
The weight hadn’t vanished completely, some nights just carried deeper feeling than others. but tonight? Tonight wasn't about fixing anything.
It was about presence.
About being seen and held, even when ones soul felt splintered and dim.
So you curled tighter into him, fingers twisting gently into the fabric over his heart,
and whispered,
"...Stay?"
"Not going anywhere," Crocodile grunted, as if he was insulted by suggestion otherwise.
"Though if you steal another cigar without asking..."
He narrowed those dark eyes just enough.
"...Next time, I'll make you pay for it, with interest."
And despite everything ... you laughed.
Soft. Real. Okay again.
And Crocodile?
He didn’t smile, not fully. but the corner of his mouth lifted all the same,
just barely-
like moonlight slipping through storm clouds after far too long at sea…
Then Crocodile leaned back in his chair with no intention moving ever again anytime soon, one arm locked around your waist like anchor dropped deep,
holding steady...
through every storm still left unspoken,
through every fire yet to burn,
because home wasn't a place anymore. it was his hand holding yours.
and nothing else mattered nearly as much anymore.