• Second Place Votes:

Sir Crocodile, Dating One Year, Formal Tuxedo and Fancy Shoes, Gifts you Roses, Michelin Star, High-end Restaurant, Staying Home.

• For your one year anniversary, Crocodile treats you just as well as he always had since the beginning: Very Well. Though the two of you may have met under strange circumstances, it has not stopped the man from falling in love with you.

• CW: None, unless you do not care for a very doting Crocodile.

You and Crocodile were matched up at a speed dating event the previous Valentine's Day. It was strange to you that a man as handsome and well-off as he was had to be set up in speed dating, but he had told you on your first date that he never intended to take part in the event at all. A business rival of his wasn't budging on a deal, and she had insisted she could not meet with him that night to discuss the contract because she was at the speed dating event. Had the contract not been negotiated and signed by that night, it would have no longer be valid, and he would have had to start all over again.

The story made you laugh, as you recalled him in a very heated conversation with a rather relaxed-looking woman with a sharp nose, blue eyes, and dark hair. She was beautiful, and you were certain you wouldn't stand a chance against her. Even with how red in the face he was getting, their almost familiar chemistry didn't go unnoticed, and it seemed as if everyone in the room understood that the two of them would be going home together. Sure enough, they were talking at the end of the night and coordinating something on their phones. Resigning yourself to the fate that not even speed dating could land you a date, when he tapped your shoulder as you were waiting for a taxi, slightly red in the face for a different reason when he asked you coolly to join him for a drink.

Regardless of his reasoning for being there, he always told you every moment he could that you were the best outcome of that evening. You later learned that the woman, Nico Robin, used to work for him, and switched companies. They remained friendly with each other, and you had come to know her as well as her new partner, a rather weird car fanatic she also met at the speed dating event named Franky.

Crocodile had always treated you well, even though outside of your relationship he was well known as a shrewd and almost cruel businessman. His negotiations often left no survivors, so to speak, and even his subordinates handled him with care. Mr. Bonez, his personal valet, believes that Sir Crocodile had become a softer man since meeting you over the last year, which concerned you for what kind of man he was like before you...

It was now your first anniversary, and Crocodile had paid for you to go to a spa during the day to be pampered. He even had the attendants lay out dresses for you to pick from, and had your hair and makeup done. Mr. Bonez picked you up and brought you to Crocodile's estate, which was starting to feel more at home now that you had spent more time there. It helped that his two pugs, Pugsley—who he had found in the rain one day—and Banana—his newest little one that he got because Pugsley was favoring you—always ran to greet you. Before you and Crocodile got together, you'd have thought diamond-studded collars on dogs were not a thing, but at this point, they were mere trinkets compared to the things you had seen your boyfriend spend money on. Somethings you still found rather frivolous (the man barely drove, did he need two Ferraris?), but it was his money, and how he chose to spend it was his business.

You were playing with Pugsley and Banana (Poogsey and Bananner Hammer as you called them) on the floor of the living room when Crocodile came in with his arms full of roses. His cigar sat between his teeth, the smoke circling his head softly as his eyes held you with a glimmer of admiration in them. Both pugs barked at him in greeting but did not leave your side.

A dark chuckle escaped him, cocking a brow with a grin that looked more upset than happy, "Traitors."

Giggling, you got to your feet, trotting over to him to get on your toes as best you could and kiss him on the cheek. Of course, you had to tug down on his arm to make him bend over, but he obliged without question.

"Welcome home, 'Dile," you smiled as brightly as you could to him.

"Good to be home, Sweets," he had always called you as such, as you were so sickeningly sweet to him, even though he didn't like sweets. You were the only sweet thing he could handle, at least that was what he always told you.

Crocodile presented you with the roses, and once you took them, he removed the cigar from his mouth, blowing the smoke away before leaning in to kiss you back on the cheek. You smiled big, turning to go ask his housekeeper, Mrs. Drophy, for a vase. Reaching out gently with his ring-covered fingers, Crocodile's voice purred deeply to you, "Hold on, now. Where do you think you're going?"

You didn't have to answer, already knowing what he wanted as he leaned in closer. Pressing your lips to his, you gave him a sweet kiss that began to deepen with all the love and care the two of you shared. It took both dogs barking and whining to get him to release you—at least that is what you told yourself—and he bent down to pick up both the dogs and baby-talk them as they licked his face while you finally tracked down Mrs. Drophy for that vase.

Your boyfriend changed for the dinner reservation he had made at the Baratie, easily the top restaurant in the country. Crocodile always dressed his best, but there was something about seeing him in a perfectly tailored tux that had you biting your lip. Oddly enough, watching him bend over to pick up both Pugsley and Banana again was what put you into overdrive. Before leaving, you had to run the lint roller over each other to make sure that there was no pug hair sticking to your clothes before taking his arm and heading out to the restaurant together.

The car ride was quick, but the elevator up to the rooftop restaurant felt like a million years, only reminding you how hungry you were. Crocodile chuckled, pulling you closer with his arm around your waist to kiss your temple, "You can order whatever you want, Sweets."

"You spoil me, I swear," you smiled, giggling more as you waited for the doors to open at the top floor, "But I could honestly eat a whole sea king."

"Don't let Chef Zeff hear you say that," Crocodile scoffed, motioning for you to exit the elevator first, "He'll take that as a challenge and actually serve you a whole sea king."

"That sounds like personal experience, or at least something similar."

"It is, and let's just say you should learn from my mistake."

You were silent for a moment, then took a quick breath before asking, "Where would he even get one?"

Crocodile blew smoke out his nose, closing his eyes in thought, "I'm not even sure where he had kept it."

After you were shown to your seats, you became distracted from your hunger pains by the beautiful sight of the sparkling city below. You took in the view, missing the subtle picture that your boyfriend took of you on his phone. Crocodile kept a small collection of pictures of you on his phone. The earlier pictures were far more risqué, but in recent months they had become simple; you asleep and wrapped up in the blankets with the dogs, sitting in the back gardens with a book, or the last one before this was of you in the kitchen with Mr. Bonez both covered in dough after he messed up the stand mixer. He smiled to himself, thinking you were unaware of his growling collection, but you knew, of course, you knew.

The menu was placed in front of you, and you both discussed what to order. A delicious (and yet ridiculously small) appetizer that you could barely remember all the fancy terms on the menu for what was actually in it—just that it took about two bites and tasted divine. Then came your salad and a small soup (both also fancy), then your lavish main meals. You got the Sea King Steak, unable to get your mind off the idea because of your elevator discussion. Crocodile got, oddly enough, a crocodile linguini, and you just watched him oddly as he ate it. Crocodile meat was his favorite, which always led you to make a joke that you agreed, his meat was your favorite, but you opted to behave yourself. It was a Michelin Star restaurant, after all; you needed to show some decorum.

Dessert was picture perfect—it all was, honestly, and you had been posting it to your social media—but you were almost disappointed by the size of it until your boyfriend slid you his. You were transported absolutely to heaven, not even completely aware that the Head Chef Zeff had come to speak with Crocodile. The older man was just thrilled to see you enjoying his menu, and the two men left you alone as they talked business until you were able to come back down to earth and join in the conversation.

After dinner, you both bid the staff and Zeff good night, thanking them for the wonderful meal, then headed back home where you both sat on the couch in front of a roaring fire as he read the paper and you read a book. Pugsley and Banana both fought over a bone before tiring out and falling asleep together in the same bed. It was a level of contentment you never realized would be attainable in your life, looking up to your boyfriend as he turned the page of the paper. He turned his head to look back down at you as he cocked an eyebrow, "Can I help you, Sweets?"

You shook your head, sighing contently, "Nah. Just thinking about how wonderful you are. How happy I've been."

Reaching down to hold your chin, Crocodile smiled, "Took the words out of my mouth. Come here..."

He pressed his lips to yours, parting them softly for his tongue to join in. His kisses were always amazing, making you a little dizzy in the process as he always tasted of cigars and scotch.

Crocodile breathed out softly against your skin, "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, too, 'Dile."