#croc x reader

“What’s wrong?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one else has either,” Crocodile said, puffing on his cigar with his hand. Normally brash, impudent, and cheeky, you ran your fingers delicately over his pitted and marked skin. Crocodile allowed you to move his arm and inspect it as you saw fit. It felt refreshing to be so open with a sexual partner, especially one who had scars of their own.

“Does it hurt?” you whispered, still tracing the faded pocks where the sutures had been.

“It aches at times, but nothing too bothersome” Crocodile said, blowing cigar smoke above your head. To Crocodile’s surprise, you began to massage his stump with your deft little fingers. It felt incredible, nothing like the rough kneadings he gave himself. Crocodile bit back a groan as he leaned back further into his padded chair. He finally had you, naked, sitting in his lap, and his first groan was elicited from a hand massage. 

“You should let me help you with it,” you offered as you continued to work. Crocodile hummed his response. It really did feel quite good to have your nimble fingers working out his tension. He’d agree to it later, right now you were looking delectable with your little furrowed brow concentrating on him, tits gently swaying with your movement.

“Maybe another time. Right now, I’m going to help you,” Crocodile said, rising to stand while holding your bottom in his arms. You squeaked from surprise, clutching his shoulders as if in fear Crocodile was going to drop you. Crocodile strode with purpose towards the bedroom, his cock tenting his pants in anticipation of being buried in your heat.

He set you down none too gently on his bed, you ass bouncing on the mattress. Crocodile undressed rapidly, wishing he was still wearing his hook to slice through his expensive clothes. Putting his cigar in his bedside ashtray, he dove right after you, pinning your wrists down above your head with his hand. “Finally, captured by the King,” Crocodile droned into your ear. His legs in between yours spread them wide open, your wet core sloshing on his thigh. Crocodile wanted nothing more than to sink into your sweet cunt immediately but he knew he had to wait. You weren’t some plaything he’d forget the moment after orgasm. Crocodile needed to show you that he was worth the ride, so to speak. “Will you be a good girl for me? Keep your hands above your head?” 

“Mmhmm. I can be good. I can be very good. I have manners now,” you purred to him.

“Talk is cheap,” Crocodile said with a smile, kissing between your tits. Crocodile growled, biting a nipple gently, earning him a yip. He kissed down your delicious stomach, licked some of your parallel line scars down your legs to your already sopping cunt. “You’ll have to show me,” Crocodile said, licking his lips and hiking your legs over his broad shoulders. 

Two orgasms later and you were no longer very good as you had claimed. At first you had been, mewling and keening for his tongue like a good little slut as you came at his command, your hands where he’d left them. But after the second delicious orgasm you were whining for him to fill you, tangling your hands in his hair in desperation, trying to squirm away from his tongue. Crocodile tsked at you. “So? What’s your answer, hm? Are you still a good girl for me?” Crocodile asked before running his tongue up the length of your cunt, flicking your over-sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. The action had you writhing under him, trying to move him closer or farther away, he couldn't tell.

“Not such a good girl then, hm? Can’t stay still for me?” Crocodile teased as he brought himself up to loom over your face. “That’s alright, I like you wicked,” he said with a smile, kissing you deeply. You tasted your own delight on his lips and tongue, winding your arms around his neck with a contented sigh. Crocodile adjusted you to his desired position, bringing your knees up to your chest, legs hanging over the crooks of his arms in a modified mating press. Crocodile maneuvered the tip of his heavy cock to your entrance. 

“Are you ready? I know I am rather… large,” Crocodile said softly, searching your face. You grinned and patted his cheek, causing Crocodile to kiss your palm.

“Fuck me, baby,” you said with a smile. You gasped as you felt Crocodile enter your tight heaven, your channel squeezing him like a vice. You were wet and slick but so tight Crocodile had to hold himself back from pounding into you. Your back arched up as he continued feeding your sweet pussy more of his cock. Pushing himself into you inch by inch, Crocodile groaned as he finally bottomed out, your tinny whine music to his ears.

He started moving his hips with a slow roll, making you groan your satisfaction. He kept an even tempo even when you mewled at him for more.

“You don’t tell me how to fuck you , brat,” Crocodile smiled against your temple. But he did rise to his knees, using his now free hand to rub your pretty little clit. 

“C-crocodile, I’m close,” you uttered, eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

“Look at me,” Crocodile demanded, pinching your clit. You opened your eyes as you yipped with the sensation. “Look at me as you come, look at who can make you feel this way,” he growled at you, rubbing your sensitive nub faster now. He began thrusting more forcefully, rocking the bed frame with the strength of his movements. 

“ Ah..ah..f-fuck! Crocodile! I’m c-coming!” you stuttered out, your tight channel gripping and spasming around Crocodile like a vice. Your toes curled as your legs tensed, clenching around him even tighter. It was music to Crocodile’s ears and he rode you hard through your high as you came undone around him. He was near his own pleasure and relentlessly pursued it while dragging out your own. Never overly expressive during sex, Crocodile grunted as he gripped the bedpost, cracking the wooden frame under his hand. His orgasm hit him harder than he anticipated, bringing sharper relief to his aching cock than he’d felt in months. Fighting the urge to collapse on top of you, Crocodile laid to your side and rolled you onto his chest. You were still dazed from your third orgasm and breathing heavily.

“So, what do you think, brat? Am I a selfish lover?” Crocodile teased, kissing the top of your head.

“Dunno, need to test my theory again. Best two outta three?” you said with a throaty laugh. Crocodile grinned, his scar spreading further across his face. 

Later that night, Crocodile dozed off easily with your face pressed against him, drool pooling on his chest from your slack mouth. You were exhausted after enjoying each other's bodies for hours, now resting on top of Crocodile’s warm chest. He’d retrieve the hook in the morning, he thought to himself. For now, he enjoyed the warmth of your smaller body on top of his own as he pulled the blankets over the two of you.

~

Crocodile was an early riser by nature but the spot you slept in grew cold by the time he awoke to the breaking rays of the sun. He would reach for you in the morning only to find your lingering scent on the pillow. Today was no different as Crocodile woke to an empty bed. You’d started spending your nights in his bed, usually romantically, but sometimes just talking quietly together until you fell asleep. Crocodile didn’t have a sense of humor that he was aware of, but you were able to get him to chuckle quite frequently. You told him jokes, relayed funny information you’d heard and did an impressive Mihawk impersonation. Your keen intellect was always on display even when you were nestled into his side drifting to sleep. He frequently sought your opinion about Cross Guild matters and gave it as much weight as Mihawk’s.

“What should we do with the Marines that are brought here?” Crocodile asked. Mihawk very strongly wanted to kill them but Crocodile was undecided if that was the best option.

“Keep ‘em. Er, at least the high level ones. Shows you can contain powerful Marines. And the others, just kill ‘em,” you said with a yawn.

“Kill them? I’m surprised that’s your opinion dear,” Crocodile said, kissing the top of your head.

“Did you call me dear ?” you asked incredulously.

“Mmm. You are dear to me, I should hope that is clear by now. But why kill them? I would think you’d be opposed to the murder of innocents,” Crocodile mused as a blush spread across your cheekbones. You were unused to romantic affection, but Crocodile sought to remedy that with his own brand of tenderness.

“Why would I care? They’re not innocent. They’re part of the World Government, just as bad as the people on the top. Maybe worse because they sign up for it. I’ve changed my mind, I think you should kill 'em all,” you said with a pout crossing your adorable features. You were generally easy going in nature towards others, with a notable exception for Marines. Crocodile assumed your negative perception of Marines had something to do with your previous enslavement, but you’d tell him when you were ready, it wasn’t his way to pry. 

He got dressed and headed for his kitchen with a scowl. He was going to address the issue of leaving his bed without him later today - either you had to wake him up with you or you had to remain until he was ready to let you leave in the morning. He’d grown accustomed to your presence and wished to spend the early morning with you.

Pouring from the coffee carafe you’d thoughtfully prepared for him, Crocodile looked out the veranda at the island. Although it wasn’t chosen for its beauty, the island was rather pleasant in the early morning and in the evenings, when most of the crew was sleeping off their hangovers or preparing themselves for another. Crocodile’s coffee soured in his gut as he saw you from afar exchanging a hug with the Clown by the entrance to the Clown’s tent. You stayed in conversation with him afterward, smiling and laughing at the foolish man’s animated words and limbs flying about in the air. Crocodile had no idea what someone as intelligent as yourself could possibly say to such an imbecile but he’d long stopped trying to interfere in your relationship with your Captain. 

Throwing his beloved jacket over his shoulders, Crocodile stalked towards you, no longer willing to hide his jealousy. The Clown and Mihawk were aware of his feelings towards you, though neither had said anything. As Crocodile rounded the corner to the tent, Crocodile realized the Clown was speaking to you about himself. Pausing to listen in, Crocodile heard the remainder of the conversation.

“ - could get you away if you needed it,” the Clown said quietly, holding your hand.

“Nah, I like that old bastard,” you replied, nuzzling his hand on your face. It would have been a touching display of affection if it was himself, not the Clown. 

“But if there’s problems, let me know. Shanks's pretty good at chess too, watching you kick his ass would be fun,” the Clown added, putting his hand on your shoulder in concern. Crocodile gave the Clown’s words some thought. Though the fool irritated him to no end, Crocodile appreciated that the Clown was watching for your best interest even if it was against his own, he thought, chewing on his morning cigar. To offer to send a crew member to a rival Emperor was a sign that he cared for your safety, even if he had no reason to be. For this transgression of offering to take you away from Crocodile, he would only verbally wound the Clown, he wouldn’t raise his hook against him.

Coming fully around the corner, you smiled as you saw Crocodile’s own frowning face. Despite having his back to Crocodile, the Clown tensed, quickly removing his hand from your shoulder, correctly guessing the identity of the interloper.

“Good morning, Dear. Buggy,” Crocodile intoned, tilting his head in an outward show of respect towards the Clown, making you beam. You always appreciated when he showed a modicum of respect towards the Clown though it was not sincere. “Come, let us eat breakfast. Buggy, I will see you later at our meeting,” Crocodile said mildly, resting his hook on the Clown’s shoulder in a mirror of the Captain’s own movements. It always felt odd calling the Clown by his name - like referring to a an animal by a human name, but he had agreed to the terms of your service. Crocodile wasn’t going to hurt the Clown, but he didn’t need to know that now. A little negative anticipation would benefit the Clown’s mood for later. You kissed the Clown’s cheek and bade your goodbyes, walking with Crocodile back to his increasingly finished mansion.

“What was that conversation about?” Crocodile asked, though he felt foolish confirming information he already knew. 

“Captain Buggy was making sure you’re treating me right,” you replied easily. Crocodile hummed and took your hand and placed it on his arm as the two of you strolled back to his residence. He had to walk slowly to match your shorter stride but he didn’t mind enjoying the cool morning air with you.

“I know you were eavesdropping, you’re not as slick as you think you are,” you said with an impish grin. Crocodile grunted. He was slick for everyone else, just not to you.

“I’m not old,” Crocodile replied.

“You are. You’re like 50,” you said matter-of-factly.

“47, brat. Maybe I need to spank the impudence out of you later tonight,” Crocodile mused. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you said with a wink and a laugh. Crocodile’s lips quirked into a small smile. Crocodile led you past the marina towards his residence when you spotted new prisoners being unloaded from a pirate ship.

“Oh, new Marines? Anyone good?” you asked curiously, watching the prisoners being brought to the prison. Your idea had been an incredible success, Marines began arriving to the island semi-regularly. Of course, all high ranking captures were published in the news by Cross Guild, further weakening the bonds the Marines had with the less stable islands. 

“Mm. This time we have mostly low ranking Marines with a notable exception. The Mad Medic has been brought in, apparently captured and detained by his own subordinates. A rare occurrence, but nothing -” Crocodile ceased talking as he took in your countenance. You had paled, your cheeky attitude from moments prior evaporated completely. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, no longer watching the scene play out in front of you. Crocodile frowned, he hadn’t seen you this on edge since the first time he’d properly met you. And even then, you were more nervous than anything else. Your hunched shoulders and lip between your teeth told Crocodile you were scared. And that was not an emotion Crocodile liked seeing in his brave, resilient maid.

“Dear, what’s the matter?” Crocodile asked quietly, walking even slower now. His hand on top of yours kept you from removing it from his arm completely, you were practically tugging him to get further away from the marina. You were frantic to get away, your normal sassy attitude completely absent from the conversation, unlike the easy, leisurely walk before.

“Nothin’, just wanna go,” you whispered back, resuming pulling on his sleeve once more. Crocodile had never seen you so withdrawn - it must be the introduction of the Marines. Crocodile scanned the incoming prisoners, the only one of note was the Mad Medic who was decidedly unamused by the circumstances. He was examining the island and his eyes landed on Crocodile and his companion. A sickening sneer spread over his face as he leered at you from afar. Things quickly clicked into place in Crocodile’s mind as he made a quick decision. 

“And go we shall. Come along,” Crocodile said, hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the marina. Your eyes darted back towards the boats, as if to make sure you weren’t being followed. Unfortunately, the time for discretion had ended. You were going to have to tell Crocodile what had happened to you so that he could determine the level of torture the Mad Medic would face. 

Wheeling you into his house, Crocodile brought you into the study, sitting you down in your usual chair. You started to set the chess board automatically, your mind obviously elsewhere. Crocodile wasn’t in the mood for playing chess but allowed you to continue as a way to settle your nerves. Crocodile poured two cups of coffee from the carafe you’d left, handing you one after adding one teaspoon of sugar and a large amount of cream, your preferred presentation.

“The Mad Medic,” Crocodile stated.

“Yeah,” you said absently, staring at the chessboard. Crocodile made the first move, trying to ease the burden on your mind.

“Describe how you know this person,” Crocodile rumbled, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers against his hook. You studied the board and made your move, countering his pawn with one of your own. You waited for Crocodile to make his next move before you resumed speaking.

“Before Captain Buggy bought me, I was a medical slave for students training to be doctors to Celestial Dragons. They don’t train on animals or oranges or poor people, they train on slaves for accuracy. Um, like me. I had to go through lots of invasive physical exams, sutures, venipuncture, intubation, surgery…and lots of other stuff was done to me by students. It was um, bad. Really bad. That’s where some of the, um, scars come from. Suture practice. He would, um, make cuts and sometimes rub stuff in them to make them worse for the students to clean and fix. That’s why they’re so even and there’s so many of ‘em, they were for practice. And um, a buncha my veins are ruined from, um, being stuck bad too many times,” you stated, showing him the crook of your arm again. The irregular puncture wounds and parallel scars made sense now. Given the hundreds you had, Crocodile couldn't imagine how many times you had to endure being sliced just to be poorly sewn again or stabbed over and over. You were jiggling your feet and rubbing your hands together, clearly in distress.

“Come here,” Crocodile said, holding his arm out to you. You got up from your chair and came over to sit in his lap sideways, tucking yourself against his chest. “Thank you for sharing this, little one, I know it is difficult for you,” Crocodile said, rubbing your back with his hand. He kept his sand from swirling, he didn’t want you to worry about cleaning the chair. 

“And he was, um, in charge of the program. He used me more than any other slave. Said I had good skin and blood for it, I dunno. And healed faster, but I don’t think that’s true. So. That’s how I know him,” you spoke in a rush, as if you needed to get it out quickly before you stopped yourself.  “That’s, um, part of why I got so good at chess. I used it as a distraction during procedures or when in recovery, which was a lot of the time. You know, thinking about moves, playing games in my head, since um, I was strapped down and um, y’know, gagged most of the time, ” you continued, staring out the office window. You hadn’t made eye contact with Crocodile since the sighting at the marina, something that bothered Crocodile immensely. 

“I see,” Crocodile said easily, like you were telling him you wanted two teaspoons of sugar in your coffee instead of one. In reality, he was imagining the myriad ways he was going to enjoy torturing the Medic to death. He didn’t want to think of you, scared and in pain, strapped to a medical table as students practiced on your precious skin.

“And the final test for doctors who want to work for the Celestial Dragons is, um, how I got the neck scar,” you stated, though your voice had dropped to nary above a whisper. “They, um, well, he, um, slashed my throat with a razor and a fourth year student had to sew up the wound before I died. If I died, they wouldn’t pass. It was….” you trailed off, not finishing the sentence as you relived what was likely the worst moment of your life.

“But um, it took me too long to recover since the student who did mine wasn’t all that good, and um, they sold to the auction house since I couldn’t work, and um, well, you know the rest,” you ended abruptly. Crocodile didn’t want to press for the details, he would find out all he needed to from the medic in due time.

“So that’s why I hate Marines. The medical school was affiliated with them and if they were really going to protect people, they would. They would have stopped the program. But they don’t care about us. No one does,” you finished, wiping your nose with your sleeve. Crocodile reached into the pocket of his vest, retrieving his handkerchief and handing it to you. You took it and wiped your nose and eyes, sitting miserably with tears staining your pretty cheeks. 

“Would you prefer to watch his torture or participate yourself?” Crocodile asked, his head at a slight tilt as he removed your tears with his thumb.

“Wha-what? I thought you were keeping the high level Marines alive, that it-” you sputtered, finally looking at Crocodile’s face. Crocodile cut you off with a wave of his hook.

“No. This one dies by my hand. Or yours, should you wish for it,” Crocodile stated in a flat tone. 

“You’d…do that for me? I know this is fucked up, but that’s…really nice. Maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I mean, aside from buying me and freeing me,” you said, wiping your nose again. 

“You are precious and irreplaceable, I will kill anyone who dares raise their hand against you. That is not a threat, it is a promise. Now, answer the question. Would you like to participate, watch, or neither?” Crocodile asked, rubbing his hand tenderly on your cheek.

“Hmm. I don’t - I don’t know. I don’t want to see him at all. I wasn’t, um, who I am now back then. It was - I wasn’t -  um, I just can’t, I’m, um, scared,” you said, avoiding Crocodile’s eyes once more. He gently put the flat or his hook under your face, tilting it up towards his own.

“It is understandable that you are afraid but you have nothing to fear. Why don’t you let me attend to this matter for now, hm? It is, after all, my area of expertise,”  Crocodile said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. You gave him a watery smile, but kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Crocodile said, sand already swirling as he adjusted his hook.

“Fine, name your price,” Crocodile said dismissively, crossing one leg over the other. Maybe you needed something else to sweeten the deal other than joining a better crew. If you wanted to negotiate, well, this was Crocodile’s expertise. Confusion registered on your face. 

“Price for what?” you asked.

“Price to leave the Clown and join me,” Crocodile said, as if it was obvious. Crocodile had money and power, he was sure he could acquire whatever it was you asked for. You knew him well, you knew you had him over a barrel. Now you wanted to milk him dry, and he wasn’t even upset about it. It was shrewd business practices.

“No, thank you,” you declined again, starting to rise from your chair once more.

“What do you mean, ‘no?” Crocodile wasn’t used to being told no, and certainly not multiple times in a row. He wasn’t planning on starting now. 

“You already said that. And I already said no, twice. There’s nothing that will get me to leave Captain Buggy. It won’t happen,” you shrugged. This was an unexpected wrinkle in Crocodile’s plans, especially now that the negotiations for an alliance were over. There was potential for an alliance with just Mihawk, but their time with the Clown had come to an end. Unfortunately for the Clown, this would be one of his last days before he went to the Grand Line in the sky.

“I see,” Crocodile said, steepling his fingers. He allowed you to stand up and start cleaning up the board and pieces. Crocodile was stewing, sand was piling up, and the air in the room was tense. You didn’t seem to care, continuing to clean. He needed to gather more information from the Clown. He needed his little maid, and he would have her.

~

He found the Clown in his quarters reading over the most recent newspaper. Crocodile slammed the door open, causing the Clown to look up uneasily. The Clown didn’t say anything, which was better than when he was animated or angry. Crocodile stalked over to the Clown and slammed his hook into the Clown’s desk, skewering the newspaper the Clown was reading in the process. 

“Why won’t the maid leave you?” Crocodile demanded. The Clown cocked an eyebrow but didn’t immediately cower. 

“Which one? There are a few housekeepers -” the Clown began. Crocodile was in no mood for games. The Clown knew who he was talking about, Crocodile had spoken to the Clown about relieving you from some of your evening duties already. He pulled his hook out of the table and put the ever-so-sharp tip under the chin of the Clown.

“You know which one. Why?” For whatever reason, the Clown knew his crew very well. Crocodile had seen him addressing each and every one of them by name, and seemed to know a lot of personal details about them all as well. He was also oddly protective over them, Crocodile noticed. Many of his more reasonable stipulations for the alliance centered around the benefits due to his crew or their living conditions. It wasn’t Crocodile’s style, but the Clown was good at rallying people about him. He made them feel like they belonged , which was laughable, but they enjoyed such feelings. Crocodile didn't value loyalty, unless someone was loyal to him.

Intimidating the Clown usually worked well and quite easily. Of course now the Clown found his courage, when it was most inconvenient. The Clown shrugged, the hook digging further into the soft skin of his jaw. A drop of blood dripped down the hook, Crocodile would have to polish that off later. Another irritant.

“Ask her yourself, not my place to say.” One small movement from Crocodile and all his problems with the Clown would be over. But then you’d probably be upset with him, and maybe refuse to play chess against him. Crocodile seethed, blew smoke from his cigar into the Clown’s face, and left. The Clown didn’t know how lucky he was that you were on his crew. He’d have to figure out his next move.

The next night, Crocodile waited for you as usual. The day had passed so slowly, he thought time was at a halt. Finally, it was time for your nightly chess games. Crocodile was seated in his comfortable armchair, leg crossed at the knee. He was already smoking, and his hook gleamed in the evening light. You showed up on time, seemingly in a good mood. Maybe your rejection didn’t mean much to you, but it had an affect on Crocodile. True to form, you ignored Crocodile’s snippy mood and set the board as the former Warlord stewed. After turning white to Crocodile, you waited. You sat back, patiently waiting for Crocodile to make the first move.

“Why won’t you leave?” Crocodile asked, his voice low and dangerous. You didn’t flinch.

“I don’t want to talk about this. If you’re going to be moody, we can play another time,” you said acerbically and stood up to leave.

“You’ll leave when I tell you to leave,” Crocodile said, sand starting to swirl again. He’d tried to contain his emotions, upset that he was getting angry already. You hadn’t apologized or even reconsidered, like he hoped you would. Crocodile had never handled rejection well and now was no exception. 

“I want you to join my crew willingly, but I’m open to other avenues as well,” Crocodile said, accentuating each word. The threat was clear. You cackled. Crocodile was a hardened man but your eerie laugh gave him pause.

“Do you think that’s enough for me to leave Captain Buggy?” you asked, almost mocking him. Crocodile immediately knew physical threats wouldn’t work on you, not for this. He'd intimidated many people over the years, and some people's characters made them immune to a physical suggestion. You untied the knot of your scarf at the back of your neck, letting it flutter to the floor. “Maybe you can finish the job, eh?” Crocodile looked at your now bare neck as you stretched your head upwards. There was a huge, painful looking scar crossing your entire neck. It had obviously been slashed at some point in the past, you were lucky you survived. The scar tissue was thick and puckered, like whoever had sewn you back together was lacking in experience or time. It mirrored his own smaller scar across his face.

“What does the Clown have that is so important to you?” Crocodile couldn’t understand what the Clown could offer to anyone, much less someone like yourself. 

“It isn’t what he has, it’s what he’s given me,” you spat out, your lip curling in disgust. “Someone like you couldn’t understand.” Crocodile didn’t move his hook, he didn’t want you to leave before the conversation concluded in his favor. You looked up at Crocodile with your large eyes, anger simmering in your vision. “Do you know why Captain Buggy’s crew is so loyal? Do you know where he finds us?”

“Enlighten me,” Crocodile drawled. He was actually curious about this facet of the Clown so allow you to talk down to him - once.

“Captain Buggy goes to slave auctions,” you began. Crocodile frowned, he had absolutely no tolerance for the slave trade. The Clown wouldn’t live to see the end of the day if what you said was true. 

“He buys slaves who are left over at the end of the auction at a deep discount. Do you know the first thing he does with us after he buys us?” Crocodile could only imagine what Buggy did - branding, torture, brainwashing…all were common techniques for new slaves. You stared deep into Crocodiles eyes.

“He frees us.” Crocodile moved his hook away from you and sat back down in his chair, crossing his legs once more. “He frees us and invites us to join his crew. We aren’t compelled, we all make the choice to join him. Those who don’t join begin their new lives as free people. Captain Buggy has actually helps people . That’s why everyone is so happy to see his Jolly Roger and his ship. They’re cheering for their hero.” 

“He gives us freedom and hope when the best we could hope for was a swift death, rather than being tortured or beaten to death, if not worse.” You were getting heated defending your Captain, raising your voice and almost yelling. “So no, I won’t leave Captain Buggy. I can’t be bought - not anymore. He has something no one else has ever had - my loyalty.” You finished, panting for breath. You belatedly realized you had yelled at Crocodile, but you didn’t seem to care. You picked your scarf off the floor and stomped out of the room. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair.

After the disastrous event the previous night, you declined all of Crocodile’s invitations to play chess for the following three days. Crocodile understood why, but that didn’t mean he was pleased about it.  He tried talking to you, but you were avoiding him, not even coming to clean his office. He sent you gifts, flowers and jewels, even a fine silk scarf. You declined them all, returning them to him unopened. Crocodile was at a loss as to what to do - he couldn’t buy you and he couldn’t threaten you. If you were anyone else, he would simply force you to join him, or blackmail you via your Captain. But it wouldn’t be the same, and he thought you would play poorly under such circumstances. No, he had to do something drastic. 

~~~

“And so, we are forming the Cross Guild!” Captain Buggy said with flourish to the cheers of his crew, gathered before him on the deck of the ship. Crocodile had reignited negotiations between himself and the Clown, and had corralled Mihawk as well. Crocodile had actually gained some modicum of respect for the Clown when you’d enlightened him to the Clown’s recruiting habits. The three of them would soon control the seas as Emperors, with Buggy as the figurehead. Now you’d all be in one large crew, with you reporting to Crocodile and Buggy equally. You couldn’t avoid him any longer, and you didn’t have to break your loyalty to the Clown. He’d solved the problem, outmaneuvering you for once.

Once the speech was over, Crocodile looked over to you in the crowd of idiots. He’d spotted you immediately, of course, and watched over you during the speech. You were frowning, the only one out of the whole crowd. You narrowed your eyes and found Crocodile’s own. Of course, the smartest member of the crew had figured it out, Crocodile thought. You clapped for your Captain but as the crew gave way to celebrations, you slipped away among the revelry of the crew.

You would sail together with Crocodile on a new ship created for the Guild. He could always change his mind at a later time, kill the Clown and take you with him. For now, the Clown would live to see more days at sea, thanks to you. Crocodile wasn’t going to lose the best chess opponent he’d ever had over a mere business venture.  Money could come from many different sources, but interesting chess matches only came from you. He followed you as inconspicuously as he could, going beneath the deck as the idiots started drinking. Mihawk followed Crocodile’s movements with his yellow eyes, an unspoken question in the air. Crocodile ignored the Swordsman, it wasn’t his business.

Crocodile caught up to you quickly, you were on the way to the crew quarters. Stopping in front of you, Crocodile blocked your way through the hallway. You glared at him, but didn’t try to go around. The two of you were taking up the majority of the small, dark hallway.

“Seems that I’m your Captain now,” Crocodile drawled. He didn’t want to gloat, you were always gracious when you won and he wanted to extend the same to you as well. You grunted a reply, but didn’t say anything. “Would you like to meet at our regular time?”

“For what?” you asked, still angry and pretending to be obtuse. 

“Our chess matches, of course.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. He knew you couldn’t refuse now that he was your superior.

“Price has gone up,” you said flatly, crossing your arms over your chest. Crocodile smiled. For all of your bluster, maybe you could be bought. He didn’t care that he’d entwined his name and reputation with the Clown’s - he would finally have what he wanted. 

“And?”

“You have to call him Captain Buggy,”  you stated.

“Absolutely not,” Crocodile balked. “The Clown doesn’t deserve it.”

You frowned. Crocodile wasn’t budging and neither were you. Neither of you spoke, waiting for the other to break the tension.

“Call him Buggy then, if you three are equally the Captains. And Captain Buggy in front of the crew,” you bartered. Crocodile bit into his cigar.

“Three matches a night, I’ll call the Clo- him Buggy in front of the crew,” Crocodile countered.

“Three matches, time variable, call him Captain,” you retorted.

“Three matches a night, I’ll call him Buggy.” Crocodile felt the vein in his forehead about to explode. He couldn’t imagine having to show the Clown any consistent respect. But you had something he wanted and he wasn’t going to lose it over some stupid title for the stupid Clown.

You gave a small satisfied smile, grabbing his hook with your sweaty hand. Crocodile almost stabbed you reflexively, but held back at the last moment. You moved his hook up and down. “It’s a deal. See you tonight.” You sidestepped Crocodile easily and moved along to your quarters. Even though he’d gotten what he set out for, he somehow felt you still had him in checkmate.

~

The next few months were busy but unexpectedly pleasant for Crocodile. He spent his time working, cementing the hold the Cross Guild had over their territory, and running all the finances of the organization. Of course, he still took time to intimidate, maim and kill those who needed it, he had a reputation to maintain after all. But his real joy was coming from playing chess day after day against you. Crocodile had gotten better, even winning against you a few times. Your genuine praise when he did so made Crocodile feel like he’d won the title of King of the Pirates, not just won a chess game against a housekeeper. Crocodile counted down the hours until evening, when you would come and join him in his study. He continued to give you books to read and lessons in how to express yourself, trying to make you into the best version of yourself. After all, you were now a crew member for the Cross Guild, not just the Clo- Buggy.

One balmy night as the ship sailed through the waters of the Grand Line, Crocodile was on his way to his office a few minutes later than usual. He had thought of some new gambits he wanted to try, not that he thought they would work. But he came up short outside the door to his office, hearing talking from within. One was yours, he didn’t hear another voice but knew there were two people inside. Instead of breaking down the door with the sand that was already appearing like he wanted to, Crocodile decided to listen in.

“Check,” you said in a bored tone. Crocodile could almost picture your body language, chin resting on your palm as you lounged in the cushy chair Crocodile had bought for you. Crocodile heard the sounds of pieces being moved.

“Check,” you said again. More pieces were moved.

“Checkmate. Are we done here?” Crocodile wondered how quickly you’d defeated your opponent. He hoped you’d done it embarrassingly fast. Crocodile opened the door to see Mihawk examining the board curiously while you were curled up in your chair like a little cat, chin indeed resting on your palm. Crocodile didn’t like seeing Mihawk near you, especially while the two of you were alone. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Mihawk?” Crocodile asked, voice low. He had taken out a handkerchief and was polishing his hook. 

“I wanted to meet the chess master who captured your attention,” Mihawk answered dryly. For all his detached attitude, Crocodile knew Mihawk liked to stir up trouble occasionally. You glanced between the two men, but didn’t seem to care about the strained conversation. “She defeated me in under three minutes, quite impressive.” Crocodile drew sharply on his cigar. He wanted Mihawk gone, but he didn’t want to draw even more attention to you. He walked to stand behind your chair, leaning heavily on the back. You looked up at him, unamused.

“She will be leaving now. Let me know whenever all of this,” you gestured between Crocodile and Mihawk, “is done.” You uncurled your legs and stood up. Crocodile put his hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. You rolled your eyes but didn’t try to leave again. Crocodile’s hand on your shoulder gripped you lightly as Mihawk stood up.

“No need, I am on my way. Enjoy your evening,” Mihawk said easily, leaving the two of you alone. Crocodile regretted his course of action. He’d shown Mihawk exactly what he’d been looking for - played into the Swordsman’s hand with ease. Maybe Mihawk was a better chess player than Crocodile gave him credit for.

“What was that all about? And stop getting sand everywhere, it’s such a bitch to clean up,” you told Crocodile, ire seemingly gone. That was a facet of your personality that Crocodile appreciated, that your anger came and went easily. His did not.

“You tell me,” Crocodile replied, releasing your shoulder. It had felt so small and delicate in his hand, like he could crush it without a second thought.

You shrugged. “Mihawk was here when I came in. He asked to play a round of chess. I said no, that I don’t play for free -”

“Good girl,” Crocodile interrupted. You rolled your eyes again.

“So he offered me a lesson in swordsmanship if I won. Which I did, of course.” Crocodile narrowed his eyes. He didn’t want you spending any more time with Mihawk, lessons or not.

“I didn’t know you had an interest in learning to wield a sword," Crocodile said, trying not to gnash his teeth.

“He offered money first, but I have enough of yours for now," you said, a smug look on your face. "Seemed like a good idea now that we’re an Emperor’s crew. I’m not a great fighter, that’s never been my strongest skill,” you explained, resetting the chess board. 

“You could have asked me if you wanted to learn,” Crocodile suggested tersely, trying to hide his anger. You looked up in mild surprise. 

“You’re jealous? Over that?” you asked incredulously. How could you read him so well?

“I am not jealous. I am just saying that it would be more appropriate for me to teach you as we already spend time together daily.” Crocodile was feeling jealous, the unfamiliar sensation burning a hole in his gut.  You hummed, turning the board to Crocodile. He opened with a pawn.

“Does the Emperor regularly teach low ranking crew members to fight?” you asked, moving your knight.