Chapter Text
Thatch X Reader : How Not to Confess Your Love in 5 Lessons, by Thatch.
Part I
That first mission with Emperor Whitebeard's Fifth Division Commander had been grueling. Aside from the difficulty of the mission itself (dislodging a hundred pirates who had just arrived in the New World and attacked one of the islands under Edward Newgate's protection) you also had to suffer the catastrophic weather: a relentless ice storm coupled with violent winds and temperatures well below freezing. But you hadn't complained once. You had advanced with all the men of the Fifth Division, Commander Vista at the head, head held high, enduring the cold and the fear till the very end. The mission had been a resounding success; the pirates hadn't even had time to understand what was happening before you were already charging at them. Pops had been proud the moment you set foot back on the Moby Dick. And despite the pouring rain (thankfully the temperatures had rose as you moved further from the island), the Emperor made a point of joining you on the main deck and congratulating you all on your hard work. Seeing the Emperor smile at you and be proud of you all warmed your heart; it was enough to convince you that you had made the right choice in joining his family and that his smile was worth all the hardships in the world.
Despite the late hour, which was becoming terribly early, Vista had invited all the members of his division to join him in the immense common room where a huge feast awaited them. Thatch had been warned of their late arrival and had anticipated everything.
It had been three months since you joined the crew and the Fifth Division. This had required great adaptability and, above all, rapid improvement in your combat skills, which were far below those of the other crew members. But no one had judged you, and Vista, with a huge smile, had always assured you that he would protect you until you were able to follow them and defend your family. Such a warm welcome had been so pleasant that you had redoubled your efforts, training relentlessly morning and night, meticulously carrying out your assigned chores, and scrupulously respecting the crew's rules so as not to be a nuisance. That was indeed your greatest fear: to hinder this legendary crew and have to leave if you couldn't keep up. And the pace was intense, certainly worthy of the emperor's reputation. But you could count on many skilled pirates ready to help you with your training whenever needed. Still, this change of life was still sudden, brutal, and exhausting. So, when the whole division had followed the commander, laughing and already salivating at the fabulous food that awaited them, you couldn't help but slip away discreetly.
Your back was aching terribly, your shoulders felt heavier than a rock, your legs trembled from the exertion, and every inch of your skin was frozen by the catastrophic weather. Your clothes were soaked, and you hadn't slept a wink for almost twenty hours, concentrating on the mission and then on navigating back to the Moby Dick safely. Your bed was screaming at you to come as quickly as possible, and that last meal with your brothers seemed insurmountable despite the usual good atmosphere. You needed only one thing: to take an excessively hot shower, put on clean, dry clothes, and collapse into bed for the next twenty-four hours.
Vista, seeing you leave the group after the exchange with Pops and slip discreetly into the ship's hold, hadn't said anything but had given you a worried look. Everyone was free to do as they pleased on this ship, and these parties were absolutely not mandatory. But he had clearly seen how you had gasped after running for miles chasing the pirates, how your arms had begun to tremble when you had raised your sword for the hundredth time to parry a vicious attack from a pirate behind you. He had seen the pallor of your skin, the shivers running through your body, and the dark circles around your eyes. Even though he was used to these kinds of missions after so many years, he knew that it still represented a monstrous effort for people like you, that it wasn't insignificant, and, without judging you or considering you weak, he still worried about you in silence. Entering a battlefield demanded courage, strength, and endurance, and while he never doubted your courage and motivation to be part of this crew, despite your efforts, your strength and endurance were still below what was needed to ensure your survival. Vista had never been far away, ready to protect you at the slightest sign of trouble, and even though he hadn't needed to during this mission, he had seen your body reach its limits despite your determined gaze and reassuring smile.
So, as the pirates whistling merrily back into the common room, Vista gently closed the door behind him and slipped away for a moment to the galleys to join Thatch, who had already begun preparing breakfast, even though the sun hadn't yet risen.
Part II
"Do you think she prefers noodles or ramen?" The cook asked dreamily, gazing through the porthole at the sunrise. The sky was pink, the sea calm, and the delivery bird would be arriving soon.
Vista rolled his eyes, finished the last sip of his drink, and sighed loudly.
"I think she mostly needs vitamins." The fifth commander felt fatigue slowly creeping over him. He wasn't getting any younger and was finding it increasingly difficult to endure these long missions followed by lavish feasts that lasted until the wee hours.
Thatch banged loudly on the table, nearly knocking over Vista's glass. Accustomed to his brother's extravagance, he no longer even flinched.
"You're right! A rich and balanced meal to regain strength after a tough mission." And immediately, as if struck by a flash of genius, the cook stood up and left the table, abandoning the swordsman behind him, who had begun to yawn deeply.
"You always have brilliant ideas, Vista! Always!" Finished the commander of the Fourth Division before disappearing into the kitchen.
And while the pots and pans began to sizzle in the other room, Vista slowly rose, took his dirty dishes to the counter, went out onto the deck, and, a faint smile on his lips as he felt the sun on his skin, went to bed before starting his day.
Part III
The night had been short, having practically begun at sunrise, yet those few hours of sleep had done you a world of good, and nothing could have distracted you from your day's chores, not even an order from the emperor. The sun was now high in the sky, and you could hear the other pirates bustling about on deck, a sure sign that the day was well underway. You quickly dressed (the shower you'd taken a few hours earlier had seemed like a fountain of youth), and as you were about to leave, your weapon in your belt, ready to train and perform your duties, the door gently bumped against something. It didn't prevent you from leaving, but it was nonetheless awkward, to the point where you preferred to crouch down and pick up the object before opening the door.
You then discovered a meal tray piled high with such a variety of food that it seemed as if they had been randomly thrown together: fresh fruit, still-warm ramen, warm scrambled eggs, fresh yogurt with cereals, and even cold cuts. The tray was decorated with a magnificent rose. Who on earth could have found such a flower in the middle of the ocean? But the aroma was so pleasant that your stomach immediately rumbled, reminding you that it had been far too long since you'd eaten a proper meal. You poked your head out into the corridor, looking left and right. No, the tray seemed to have been deliberately placed in front of your door; the corridor was silent. Normally, you would certainly have taken the tray back to the kitchen, thinking it was a mistake and that someone had forgotten it. But not this time. It all looked far too delicious to leave it in the corridor or on the counter for the commander of the second division to devour. So, quietly, as if afraid of being caught red-handed stealing, you returned to your room, the tray in your arms, savoring each bite with unparalleled joy.
Nothing but the rose could indicate who had prepared this platter. But you had seen the discreet look on your commander's face when you slipped away from the group to go to bed, so you deduced that he alone, with that distinctive rose, could have prepared such a gift. With a satisfied smile, happy to be part of such a family that cared for its members, you closed your bedroom door behind you, the empty tray in your hands, and set off to begin your long day.
Part IV
"Marco, I think he's paralyzed."
"No, that smile is natural, I've already examined him," Marco replied softly, continuing to drink his coffee, giving a knowing look to Izou, who had hidden his amused face behind his fan as the Fourth Division commander danced from table to table so early in the morning.
The commanders had gathered around a table in the common room. Each had a cup in front of them and a plate piled high with delicious food (except for Ace, who had a whole stack in front of him). Yet the Fourth Division commander remained the main center of attention in the room. Not because of his incredibly delicious food (they were used to that by now) but because he was behaving unusually ridiculously, much more so than usual, and for Marco and Izou, that could only mean one thing. This was confirmed the moment Vista entered the room after his short night's sleep and joined them at the table. The swordsman didn't seem the least bit surprised to see his brother behaving so casually and sat down with a simple cup of coffee; he still hadn't digest the grand feast of a few hours earlier.
"That explains everything," the Wano’s samurai remarked simply, sipping his tea with a mocking smile.
Marco nodded and smiled, half to mock his brother's ridiculous behavior, half happy for him.
"Thatch, you're going to have to make up your mind to talk to her one day. You're making me dizzy!" Jozu grumbled, feeling nauseous just watching the cook fidgeting around. Yet, this simple remark (one among many over time) brought the cook to a sudden halt in his dancing, and his face immediately changed.
"I'd like to see you try that in my place!" Thatch grumbled, his enthusiasm vanishing in an instant. Calmer now, he approached the commanders' table, particularly Vista, who completely ignored him.
"Don't count on me for that sort of thing," Vista said before Thatch even had a chance to reply. Thatch gently placed his hand on Ace's shoulder. Ace, slumped over the table, grabbing everything within reach, hadn't even seen him coming and jumped. The cook then quickly snatched up the plates, much to Ace's dismay, who nearly choked as he ate so rapidly. Marco, facing him, sighed and offered him a glass of water.
"Thatch, you've fought the greatest pirates in the world, survived the most terrible storms. A mere woman isn't going to scare you !" Jozu added with a laugh, a few crumbs falling from his mouth. Ace hesitated for a moment, considering picking them up to eat, but changed his mind at the last second under Izou's dark glare.
"A mere woman?" the cook yelled, making all the pirates in the room jump. "A mere woman? What's wrong with you?"
Marco sighed, knowing perfectly well where all this was leading. It felt like listening to a rusty old radio. Izou didn't wait any longer and, after tossing a clean napkin to Ace, slipped out of the room.
"Didn't you see the way her hair dances in the breeze? How her eyes light up with the first rays of sunlight? The softness of her lips when she smiles? The very particular way she holds her fork? She's no ordinary woman !." Thatch angrily snatched the last plates from the table, knocking a slice of apple pie to the ground, which Ace snatched before it even touched the ground. "She's a divine beauty, certainly far surpassing that of the gods. She's not human at all, and I am the most human of humans."
All the commanders finished their drink and Ace belched quietly.
"You're acting like a child, Thatch," Marco replied, sounding tired despite the amount of coffee he'd consumed.
"You're worse than Ace," Jozu chimed in, feeling nauseous after so much nonsense from the commander.
Thatch, feigning offense, pretended to leave, but turned sharply a few steps later when Pops, who had overheard the entire conversation but said nothing, silently watching the scene, spoke:
"My son, enough of this nonsense. Confess your feelings today or I'll do it myself."
Thatch nearly fell over backward. Marco chuckled softly while the other commanders burst into laughter. They all knew Pops would never do it, he never meddle in his sons' love lives, yet judging by the cook's shocked face, he seemed convinced the Emperor was serious. And as he began to fidget again, which would only reinforce the idea that such a thing was absolutely unthinkable, Pops slowly left the room, chuckling.
"And how am I supposed to do that?" Thatch whined, watching his brothers leave one by one.
"You're a very talented man, Thatch, use your brain!"
Part V
Encouraging Thatch to use his brain was undoubtedly the worst possible advice anyone could have given him. Not because he was stupid—quite the opposite. But because it opened the door to a vast array of possibilities, each more outlandish than the last. If an ordinary man would have met you and calmly confessed his feelings as honestly as possible, he clearly underestimated the extravagance of the fourth commander.
Unlike Marco, who, in all circumstances, knew how to remain calm and thoughtful. He was the commander everyone could rely on in any situation, and he had developed a rather strange habit: he wrote down absolutely everything that happened. This was certainly an occupational hazard, and while the doctor spent hours each week doing the inventory of his infirmary, he also enjoyed keeping a logbook. Not with the intention of publishing it someday, no, Marco couldn't care less about literary styles, but rather to preserve memories of all those past adventures with his brothers. He meticulously kept track of the number of meat Ace stole from the Moby Dick's galley at the cook's request so that one day he could send him the bill "and buy a house on the beach for my retirement," Thatch would say, laughing. He also noted every time Izou had marveled at a kimono during one of their stops, scrupulously recording the location and the seller's contact information. Thus, for each of his birthdays, Izou had the joy of discovering a kimono he himself had unknowingly chosen.
And while Marco the Phoenix had nothing planned for this beautiful sunny day besides his daily chores (the horizon had been particularly calm for the past few days), he had found an unexpected source of entertainment in Thatch. And when he saw him bustling about that day, determined to declare his love for you so as not to have to endure Pops public humiliation, he understood that this day would be worthy of being written in a notebook and would even serve as proof, since no one would believe what had happened.
Marco, a faint smile on his lips, had gone to get one of his tiny blank notebooks (the kind that fit in a trouser pocket and whose existence you forget in a few seconds) and had followed the cook like a ghost, without ever being noticed.
Part VI
The notebook was now titled: How Not to Confess Your Love in 5 Lessons, by Thatch.
Chapter 1: Don't Poison the Person.
It had all started a little before noon that day. The ship was strangely quiet: Ace was taking one of his many post-lunch naps after the morning feast, the commanders and pirates were calmly carrying out their duties, and you had gone to train in the training room while Marco patiently waited for the action to begin. Thatch was nowhere to be found.
And strangely enough, it had all started because of you, somewhat unintentionally. Or because of Marco. Or rather, because of Thatch; everything was always his fault anyway.
In any case, you had shown up at the sickbay a little before noon, your forehead beading with sweat and your breath coming in short gasps. With his keen eye, that of an experienced doctor, Marco immediately noticed the itching on your forearms. And indeed, they were covered in worrying red patches. It didn't take Marco long to realize you were having a moderate allergic reaction. A short but intense course of treatment would be enough to control it. But, being the meticulous doctor he is, Marco still insisted on running tests to determine the cause of the allergy. Because even though Marco could easily treat you in these circumstances, it would have been much more problematic if you weren't near a doctor, or worse, in the middle of the ocean for some reason. You obediently followed the tests, and after barely an hour, you both discovered that you were allergic to a very specific type of cereal you had eaten that very morning.
"Vista had left me a lunch when I woke up because I was too tired to go eat with them when I got back from the mission."
Marco had given you a meaningful look when he realized you'd missed a meal, but he hadn't scolded you. He knew you were trying your best and that the first few months aboard the Moby Dick could be tough.
However, he flinched when he heard Vista's name. Leaving meal trays in the corridor was completely out of character for his brother. No, he knew perfectly well who was responsible for this gift: a lovestruck cook. Not wanting to admit his brother's declaration of love, but still wanting to gently embarrass him, he grabbed the infirmary's den den mushis and contacted him directly. In any case, the protocol was clear: any food allergy had to be reported to the galley.
"Hello, Thatch!" Marco said in an excessively cheerful voice that immediately made the cook realize he was in deep trouble.
"I wanted to warn you about a new food allergy... Yes, that's fine, you have something to write ? Okay... You know that meal tray that left your kitchen this morning for the Fifth Division quarters? Yes, yes, absolutely, the one Vista prepared himself, of course... Yes, that's it, absolutely... Well, guess what? She's allergic to that specific cereal, what a coincidence!"
The den den mushis started screaming.
"Yes, she's doing very, very well, I'm taking care of her... Now calm down, please... Calm down, Thatch... Thatch... THATCH, CALM DOWN!"
It was rare to see the first mate get so worked up, but the den den mushis was spouting a continuous stream of inaudible words, and tears had begun to fall onto the desk. The poor creature seemed to be at the end of her rope.
"Well, I'll let you write all this down in your little notebook and... THATCH, CALM DOWN!" The den den mushis hung up immediately, and the doctor sighed wearily before turning back to you.
"Well, he's coming, but you can go back now. I have to prepare an injection of tranquilizers before he sets the ship on fire," Marco finished with a gentle smile.
Faced with the strangeness of the situation, you didn't linger any longer and headed back down the corridor towards the main deck; the sea air would do you a world of good.
Chapter 2: Don't Kill the Person
Being beside Pops on the main deck, which was constantly teeming with life, was pleasant. Perhaps it was the sound of the waves crashing against the hull, the dance of the immense sails in the breeze, or Pops infectious laughter every time Ace was scolded by one of his brothers. Leaning on the railing, in front of the door leading to the sickbay, you watched the sea monsters swimming calmly alongside the Moby Dick, taking deep breaths to relax. This allergy was making your heart race, and the lack of sleep was starting to take its toll.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed across the deck. All the pirates present immediately thought of Ace fleeing Thatch again after being caught red-handed stealing from the storeroom.
But not at all! It was the cook himself, coming running like no one had ever seen him run before. He was running so fast he was bumping into the walls at every turn, his face a look of despair as if the devil were after him. Pops, surprised by all this unusual commotion, had even gotten up from his seat to look at his son. But when he stood up, the ship lurched slightly to starboard under the moving mass. You grabbed onto the railing to avoid going overboard, but just as Thatch came straight at you, seemingly not even seeing you because he was in such a hurry and running so fast, he unintentionally slammed into you, himself pulled by the ship's movement. That was all it took for your body to fall overboard and the "PLOP!" ensuing to create a chaos and stop the running commander. And when Pops shouted your name, then Namur's name and ordered the ship to turn back in a powerful voice as your silhouette was swept away by the current into the ocean, Thatch nearly had a heart attack on the spot, quickly realizing what had just happened: his worst nightmare, entirely his own fault. Commander Namur, who was always on the lookout for a rescue order from the Emperor, immediately dove in and easily managed to rescue you thanks to his innate fish-man abilities. Marco, who had arrived just as the ship had suddenly turned around, stared at Thatch, completely bewildered. It wasn't until Ace reached out to help you back onto the deck after you'd climbed the rope ladder that he understood his friend's cries and patted him affectionately on the back.
"This isn't good for you, Thatch...."
Chapter 3: Don't kill everyone on board in the middle of the ocean.
Ace and Marco immediately took care of you under Pops worried gaze. Marco was tending to your wounds while Ace gently patted you on the face to make sure you were still conscious, even though you hadn't lost consciousness. You were simply soaked, and a little seawater had entered your lungs. At the other end of the main deck, Thatch was inconsolable, profusely apologizing, but you couldn't hear because you were too far away. After Marco scolded him for slapping you, Ace had the bright idea to use his Devil Fruit to dry your clothes. The makeshift fire hovering at the end of his hand and the sun's heat were enough to dry your clothes in seconds, and everything quickly returned to normal.
Until a huge column of black smoke filled the sky.
"Ace, you set fire again!" Thundered Edward Newgate instinctively. Since the young commander had joined the crew, they had experienced more fires than storms.
The commander of the second division, outraged by this accusation, categorically denied it, but it was Thatch who brought about a more reasonable response.
"No, the fire seems to be in the kitchen. Ace wasn't there, I'm certain of it!" And the commander immediately turned around and headed for the kitchen, taking great care this time not to knock anyone over.
A heavy silence hung over the deck as the commanders exchanged worried glances before they all jumped to their feet and rushed to the kitchen, shouting orders in every direction. Only Pops remained calmly seated in his enormous chair, as if he knew perfectly well that everything would be alright.
It took more than fifteen minutes to extinguish the fire and prevent it from spreading. The kitchen was almost completely destroyed, but the engineers were already working to repair everything. Lunch was then eaten on the main deck, in utter chaos, using cardboard cutlery and plates. Marco, who seemed to be doing every job on this ship, concluded that human error was the cause of the fire: Thatch, alarmed by the doctor's call, had forgotten in his haste to extinguish the fire under the pots and pans. The Moby Dick nearly went up in flames that day, and for once, it definitely wasn't Ace's fault.
Chapter 4: Don't show yourself naked in front of someone before they've agreed to be in a relationship.
Thatch, and all the pirates who had helped put out the fire, were quickly covered in ash, and Marco, ever the good doctor, ordered everyone exposed to the smoke to go to the infirmary for an advanced pulmonary examination. The commander of the Fourth Division had the privilege of going first, so he too could receive a stern reprimand for nearly killing them all and panicking like a child, even though Marco had clearly told him you weren’t in any immediate danger.
The commander nodded like a shameful child and, as soon as he had the chance, fled the infirmary to his quarters. His magnificent cook's uniform, of which he was so proud, was covered in ash, and his usually perfectly styled hair cascaded down his shoulders from the heat and sweat. His work being temporarily suspended, he took the opportunity to shower thoroughly and put on fresh, clean clothes. The problem was that the entire water system, normally reserved for showers, had been diverted to fight the fire. And the engineers were far too busy rebuilding the kitchen to bother looking at the water system. The system had indeed been restarted to allow the cleaning of all the ash from the ship, but the water level had dropped drastically, so much so that when Thatch finished soaping his body and hair and turned the shower tap back on, not a single drop of water fell on him.
He cursed. This day would never end.
Furious, he pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out, his body covered in soap and a simple white towel around his waist. The only place where water was definitely available was the sickbay, which, for obvious reasons, was self-sufficient in terms of electricity and running water. And after the monologue he'd just received from Marco, he wouldn't hesitate to disrupt his work, even if it meant parading half-naked in front of all his brothers who were patiently waiting their turn for the consultation, which is exactly what he was doing right now.
But while he wasn't at all embarrassed to be seen in such an outfit in front of his brothers, Thatch hadn't suspected for a moment that when he opened the infirmary door without knocking and walked right through Marco's office—who didn't even have time to react—he would find himself face to face with you, not much more dressed, getting ready to take a shower! Marco had called you back to let you know that the cream he'd prepared himself for your allergic rash was ready and that all you had to do was take a shower and apply it to your clean skin.
Your cry of shock echoed throughout the ship, and Thatch, mortified once more, slipped on the soap and fell backward, his head hitting the edge of the sink. Naturally, his towel vanished with the fall, flying to the other end of the bathroom, leaving him stark naked before you, who, embarrassed, had looked away and were searching for a towel to cover yourself as well. Strangely, blood didn't immediately flow from the wound on his head but rather from his nose. Marco arrived instantly and used his Devil Fruit on his brother before berating him again and giving him a lesson in manners.
Chapter 5: Avoid Public Humiliation
It was hard to imagine things getting worse. At least, that's what Thatch had thought, his gaze fixed on the starry sky after dinner, weary of the endless day. Tales of his horrific day had spread faster around the ship than the morning paper, and the poor cook had received his fair share of good-natured teasing. Even Pops had taken pity on him and promised he wouldn't divulge his secret, at least not today. And if Thatch was seriously considering retiring tomorrow morning and going into exile on a remote island in the New World where no one would ever see him again, especially not you, in front of whom he had humiliated himself so much in such a short time, a comforting hand landed on his shoulder.
It wasn't Marco.
Nor Pops.
Nor Vista.
Nor Ace, since he was crying over the kilos of meat that had vanished in the fire.
No, it was you.
And your kind smile.
And since he'd knocked you overboard while running.
And since he'd nearly set the ship on fire because of his carelessness.
And since he'd exposed himself neked in front of you when a gentleman wouldn't do such a thing.
Thatch froze. The last possible solution he'd come up with to avoid messing everything up again. If necessary, he'd jump into the water and curse anyone who dared call Namur for help.
Yet, he didn't.
Perhaps because he'd never seen you smile like that, at least not at him. Or perhaps because you'd never looked into his eyes like that, with such tenderness. And because he had a burning desire to grab your hand and hold it tightly in his, never to let go.
Who knows.
“Is everything alright?” you asked in a small voice, exhausted by the day as well.
No, everything wasn't alright! He was actually experiencing the worst day of his life ! At least, that was the case before you joined him and got so close.
“Yes, and you?”
“What a day.” You replied simply, leaning against the railing yourself, gazing up at the stars. “Please don't push me!” you said, laughing, as the cook's jaw tightened.
What an idiot he could be.
He sighed as his only response.
“Vista told me you were the one who prepared the meal tray.”
What an idiot. What an idiot!
“Thank you so much, it was a real pleasure. It was delicious despite the cereal.” A touch of joy gently washed over him at the compliment, even though he still cursed himself for using the cereal he’d bought at the market on the previous island, trying to do the right thing…
“I’m sorry,” Thatch finally said, seemingly finding his voice again.
And even though you had a thousand reasons to be angry and friendly mock him too, you just smiled at him.
The commander felt relieved, and as the conversation took a much more pleasant turn, free of remorse and resentment, the commanders of the first and second divisions appeared on the deck for a final stroll before going to sleep. Marco, who had spotted you immediately, gave Ace a rather unsubtle signal to look in your direction. Portgas D. Ace froze in the middle of the deck, his face beaming with joy. Finally, Thatch had confessed his feelings! But as Marco gently tugged on his arm, signaling him to turn around as discreetly as possible so as not to disturb this crucial moment, Portgas D Ace mistook it for a gesture of encouragement.
At that moment, Ace, overjoyed, waved wildly in your direction and shouted, “Thatch, you finally told her you loved her! What did she said ?”
The poor commander of the second division went flying overboard.
The weary commander of the first division stopped his brother from killing the other.
The enraged commander of the fourth division cursed his brother with every insult he knew.
Pop, from his room, burst into thunderous laughter.
And you watched the scene, incredulous, but deeply happy to be part of this crew.
Note for a successful confession: Keep Ace away.