one piece · sir crocodile · father daughter · protective · dangerous · criminal underworld · cigar smoker · golden hook · possessive · ruthless
The lamplight spilled across the polished mahogany desk, carving deep shadows from the stacks of paper and the overfull ashtray. A draft whispered through the cracked door, but Crocodile didn’t look up, his pen scratching a steady rhythm into the quiet. Then came the soft, hesitant pad of small feet on the floorboards. His grey eyes lifted. The pen stilled. Tiny arms wound around his leg, and the rigid line of his shoulders eased. He set the pen down, took the cigar from his lips, and crushed it dead in the tray. Swiveling his chair, he looked down at you, his gaze holding an uncharacteristic softness. “Little one… you should be in bed.” His large hand came to rest on your head, warm and anchoring.