Tyrant Of The Laundry Room

Nyanko sensei

Y’all if ygs followed me for one piece stuff I recommend reading hannahbarberra’s they are *chef’s kiss*

Snow Fall (Alpha!Izo x Omega!Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Summary: Izo’s search for his mate had ended before it had begun. He'd never been able to tolerate the scent of any Omega, finding their floral scents all far too strong. Until he meets you, a baker originally from Wano who sells desserts on a tiny winter island...

~~~

Yes. I know. Another one. But also.....it's fun for me! I just love Izo, OK? Not NSFW in this chapter.

~~~

Izo’s search for his mate had ended before it had begun. By the time Izo had reached puberty and presented as an Alpha, he’d found the scent of every Omega he’d encountered to be overwhelming and unpleasant. In theory, he was supposed to be attracted to the floral scents that the Omegas threw off but in reality they singed his nose and gave him a headache. He hadn’t had much chance to explore his options in Wano, quickly becoming a retainer for Oden and spending his time with the Shogun. But as he sailed the seas with Whitebeard, he came across hundreds if not thousands of Omegas across the Grand Line and all of them smelled absolutely wretched to Izo. 

Time and time again his brothers had urged him to find an omega to settle himself with, even going so far as to bring a few on board and leaving them in his room as a “surprise.” No matter how beautiful or kind they were, Izo couldn’t overcome his aversion to their strong saccharine smells, politely removing them from his cabin before opening all the windows. He’d admonish his brothers for wasting everyone’s time, but his brothers wanted to see him happily mated and hadn’t given up their quest yet. They didn’t understand - the Alphas among them loved the scents and the Betas couldn’t smell it as strongly. His brothers thought he was being too picky but the truth was he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as a flowering Omega. Izo had accepted the fact that he would likely remain unmated through his life. Sure, he could (and did) bed betas at nearly every island - but finding a mate seemed an impossible task.

The Moby was docked at an autumn island in its winter season, they’d been there for about a day, restocking what they could from the available resources. . The Commanders were bitching about the cold weather as they walked while huddling together on the icy sidewalks of the small settlement on the island.

Izo didn’t mind the cold, if anything he preferred it, and not just because he was from a snowy village himself. In the cold, the rancid and overpowering smells of Omegas were more muted than on warm summer islands. Once they were mated, the Omega stench was less pronounced but even then he could hardly bear it. Summer islands brought dresses, shorts, and exposed skin that all but coated the air with their smells, much to his chagrin. No, he liked the snow on the ground, the cold wind on his face, and the long sleeves and pants covering all the Omegas on the island.

Ignoring his fellow Commanders as they moaned about their frozen fingers, Izo focused on the crunch of his boots in the snow and the sharp sting of the frigid air as he inhaled. There was a local bakery on the island and rumors were that they served authentic Wano desserts. Along with overpowerful smells, Izo also disliked oppressively sweet tastes. He would never say anything for fear of hurting the Chef’s feelings, but Izo hadn’t enjoyed a dessert since he’d left Wano with Oden. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for the bakery - he had come to realize over the years that “authentic Wano desserts” usually meant “Wano inspired desserts.” But the locals working the docks said that the baker was actually from Wano, barely speaking Common. 

A tinny bell ringing signaled their entrance to the small, cosy establishment. There were only two small tables with six old chairs inside, most of the meager space dedicated to the wares being sold. It was worn down but clean, the kind of place that opened at 5 to serve food to hungry dock workers. As he moved towards the displays, Izo detected something in the air that had him inhaling deep breaths through his nose, searching for more. There was the smell of snow falling on a moon lit winter’s night - a subtle smell that he’d long forgotten in the murky depths of his childhood memory. The smell was too weak and fleeting, he wasn’t able to track down the smell as he entered further into the shop. His nose was flooded with the smells of sugar, cream and other sickly sweet pastries he would likely gag if he tried.

Undeterred, Izo glanced at the offerings of the bakery to determine if there really was Wanese food for sale. Izo’s eyes widened slightly as he saw an entire case of Wano desserts sandwiched between the usual island sweet breads and cakes that the island workers likely favored. Approaching the refrigerated case, he raised his eyebrows as he saw noshiumi and nanbu senbei on the top shelf , the latter of which were his favorite treat as a child, when his family still had money to spare. 

“Are you going to stare all day or are we gonna order?” asked Thatch, already unbuttoning his wool double breasted coat and placing it on a coat rack by the door. Izou had been trailed by some of his favorite brothers - Thatch, Marco, and Ace - to the homey establishment. 

“Yeah, you’re practically salivating at the sight of those desserts yoi” Marco teased. Izo was often told that he was expressionless and difficult to decipher, but his brothers had no difficulty understanding his feelings. Izo rolled his eyes - after so many years living and sailing together, his brothers could read him like a book. 

“Yes, yes, don’t rush me,” Izo replied, flicking his long hair over his shoulder. Approaching the counter, he saw a lazy looking young Beta working the counter. She was staring at herself in the mirror, practicing her smile. Izou snapped his fingers in front of her face, bringing her attention away from her own reflection. Your face had a toad like appearance, large bulging eyes and thin limp hair that hung down in clumps by her face. 

“What do you want?” she asked, clearly unhappy to be taken away from her pastime. Izo wasn’t sure that practicing smiling in the mirror would help the Beta find a mate. As she spoke, Izou detected a slight smell of yeasty bread. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant but didn’t explain the light snow scent he detected upon entering the building. Alphas and omegas in food service often smelled more potent than the food they cooked. Izo had eaten many meals outdoors to avoid the stench. Though it was no one’s fault, sometimes he could hardly tell what he was eating in the presence of Alphas and Omegas.

“Who makes these desserts?” Izo demanded, pointing to the Wanese desserts in the case. The girl frowned and turned her head to the door leading to the kitchens.

“TASUKE! SOMEONE WANTS YOU,” the girl yelled, not bothering to fetch the woman herself. Izo raised an eyebrow at the name. It wasn’t completely unheard of but it certainly was not a popular name for females. A young woman with flour dusted up to your elbows and on your apron appeared in the doorway, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. Your shoulders were tightly drawn inward as she came to the call of the rude woman, as if to make herself smaller. Upon seeing Izo in the doorway, your pinched face broke into a huge smile as she bowed to the Commander.

“Can help you?” she asked in a chipper tone, your Wanese accent strongly affecting your intonation. She had your hands clasped in front of your, patiently waiting for the Commander to speak.

“Tasuke doesn’t speak a lot of Common, just show your what you want and she’ll get it,” the girl said in a bored tone, already looking at herself in the mirror again.

“Good afternoon, Miss Tasuke. Would you please tell me about these desserts in the window?” Izo asked in Wanese. It had been years since he’d spoken Wanese aloud but he relished the opportunity.

“Good afternoon, Commander Izo. Of course, it would be my pleasure. Which are you interested in?” replied the young lady, already moving gracefully towards the shelving. Your Wanese was also accented, showing that she was originally from Northern Wano, like himself. 

“May I sample the noshiumi and nanbu senbei please Miss Tasuke? It has been so long since I have been able to enjoy such delights,” Izou replied with a small smile. He didn’t need to use his observation Haki or even turn around to know that his brothers were paying rapt attention to the exchange. They weren’t chatting with one another and Ace wasn’t complaining, he could practically feel holes being bored into his back from Marco’s intense stare.

“Thank you, Commander Izo! I hope they are up to your standard. Please, sit down, and I will bring them to you,” Tasuke said with a small bow, walking quickly into the cafe portion of the building. She was shorter than Izo expected, the top of your head reaching only to his chest.  He complied with your request, sitting at the remaining empty chair by his brothers. Watching the woman work quickly, he noted that the other woman didn’t move a muscle, not even bothering to get out of Tasuke’s way when she was carrying multiple plates. 

“Commander Izo, here are the desserts you requested as well as a few more. I wish I had known you were coming, I would have made something more befitting someone of your position,” the young woman lamented, placing several dishes stacked high with treats in front of him and the other Commanders. Your hands were shaking slightly and your face was flushed as she served the table of men. “Would you care for something to drink? I do keep some barley tea if you wish for me to brew it, but we also have regular tea, coffee, whatever you would like, Sir,” Tasuke asked, rambling on in your nervousness, gripping your serving tray tightly between your fingers as she held it flush against your stomach. Curiously, he couldn’t detect any scent from your, regardless of what your dynamic was. Though, working in a kitchen could dull your natural scent.

Smiling at you once more to try and alleviate your tension, Izou replied “Barley tea would be wonderful for me, thank you. The others will be satisfied with coffee.” You bowed again and turned to begin brewing the tea.

“By the way, how did you know who I was?” Izo asked before you left. He had a hunch but he wanted to hear it from your pretty mouth. you blushed deeply, which Izo found endearing.

“ I read and keep all your wanted posters. You are the only person I see from Wano on them and I felt a kind of…connection to you? It can be lonely not speaking the same language as everyone else and I…I just…I don’t know. I feel foolish for saying all this to you, Sir, I apologize” you finished with a small bow. You practically ran away thereafter, leaving Izo sitting with the corner of his mouth upturned.

“Whoa,” Ace said, with his mouth hanging open, reaching for the plate in front of Izo. Izo smacked Ace’s hand with his chopsticks as Ace tried to grab one of his dorayaki, wanting to keep the special treat all for himself.

“Whoa indeed. You practically proposed to that girl,” Thatch said, resting his head on his hand as he leaned on the small table

“What are you yammering on about now?” Izo scowled, admiring the nishiumi in his chopsticks. It was perfectly proportioned and formed, he couldn’t wait to taste it.

“You smiled at that lady. Extended smiles, too. You might as well tell Pops you’ve found The One,” Thatch teased, biting into an anko mochi. Chewing and swallowing thoughtfully, the Chef looked into the interior of the tiny dessert, rolling it between his fingers. “ ‘S good. Like, really good. I should ask for the recipe,” he mused, finishing it off in another bite. 

“Won’t be as good yoi. She’s from Wano, didn’t you hear them speaking together? Who knows what they were talking about,” Marco observed, biting into a mochi of his own. Knowing Marco as long as he had, Izou knew the Phoenix was teasing him as well in his own dry way. Sometimes it was pleasant having hundreds of siblings, and sometimes…less so.

Bringing the nishiumo to his mouth, Izo took a small bite. He closed his eyes as he was transported in thought back to his childhood, back to Ringo, back to the endless snowy nights under moonlit skies, back to a treat after dance class, back to the moon shining down on pure, glittery snow, back to Wano. The dessert tasted just as he remembered it, perhaps even better after all the years of longing for its flavor on his tongue.

By the time you had come back bearing the tea and three coffees, nearly all the desserts were gone, leaving only empty plates stacked high. Ace and his voracious appetite were partially to blame, but the other three Commanders had indulged just as much. They’d left at least one of each type of dessert for Izou but had rave reviews for all the sampled items.

You unburdened your serving tray by handing the other Commanders their coffees first, walking around the table and picking up the empty plates and placing them on your tray. As you worked, you spoke to Izou.

“I hope it is ok that I am speaking only to you, Commander Izo. I mean no offense to the other Commanders, I don’t speak much Common and would not be able to communicate all that well with them. Besides, I haven’t met anyone else from Wano since I left. It feels…pleasant to be speaking to someone who can understand me once more,” Tasuke finished, reaching past him to place his tea on the table.

As your arm moved by, Izo smelled snow fall once again. It was faint, but emanating from the woman at his side. Grabbing your arm suddenly in his large hand, Izo brought your wrist to his nose and inhaled deeply. Tasuke startled, dropping your tray plates, and tried to retract your arm. Izo couldn’t let go, not when the smell was so enticing. He dragged his nose from your wrist to your elbow, taking in the subtle scent of the omega in front of him. 

“TASUKE! PICK UP THOSE PLATES OR I’M GONNA TELL WIDO!” the other girl yelled from across the room. Izo felt you wince as the name was mentioned, he’d have to investigate further. Izo noted that the girl didn’t bother to help you or stop him from scenting you, just commanded you to continue working. 

“Izo, what the hell?” asked Thatch, watching the scene unfold. He wasn’t moving to help the woman escape Izo’s grasp, but Izo knew his actions were…out of character. His brothers looked from one to the other with concern but allowed him to continue his scenting.

Izo couldn’t stop himself from enjoying the smell of snow falling on pine trees…The smell of snow falling under the moonlight…a meter of snow already stacked high on the ground…walking on snow packed hard from others who already have used the path…his hand in his sister’s, shivering in the cold of the winter…

“Please, Commander, I apologize for my misdeeds! Please forgive me for what I’ve done!” Izo belatedly realized the woman was trying to pull your arm away and apologizing while he’d been lost in his memories. Turning your delicate arm over in his hand, he saw a number of finger shaped bruises lining your inner arm. He didn’t let you go but he did avert his face from your arm and looked into your frantic face.

“You are an Omega, yes?” Izo asked the scared baker.

“I-I’m not sure, Commander Izo. I was supposed to be, but I never developed a scent,” Tasuke explained, still weakly trying to remove your wrist from Izo’s grip.

“You have the most intoxicating scent I’ve ever smelled on an Omega. Are you mated?” Izo knew he would likely embarrass the young woman but he had to know. Your cheeks heated red as you averted your gaze. He heard his brothers pick up an awkward conversation to pretend they weren’t trying to listen in, perhaps to give you some emotional space. 

“No, I’m not mated. I, um, I’m not allowed to be. Please, I apologize for what I’ve done, please allow me to clean this mess,” you pleaded, still trying to remove your arm from Izou’s grasp. Reluctantly, he let go and you immediately bowed deeply to him, practically parallel to the floor. You then took your tray and started cleaning up the plates that had clattered to the floor from earlier.

“ What do you mean you’re not allowed to be mated?” Izo asked, crouching on the floor next to you to pick up the dishes off the floor. You tried picking them up before he could, preventing him from aiding even though he’d caused the spill. You still wouldn’t look at him, instead focusing on cleaning the crumbs off the floor. 

“Please, Commander, sit, I don’t want you to sully your fine clothing. I, um, the family who I work for says that my debt is not paid off and that I can’t be mated until it is. Besides, no one has ever expressed interest, so…” you trailed off, tucking your hair behind your ear. Izo turned your face to his own with a gentle hand.

“I will speak to your family,” Izo declared, pushing off his knees to standing. Offering you a hand, you gently placed your calloused hand in his softer one as Izo pulled you to standing.

“ Please, don’t. I -” you started but Izo already knew the rest of the sentence as your scent turned sour from fear. You were afraid of reprisal from your adopted family, most likely from your eldest “brother.” 

“ You have nothing to fear. No harm will come to you. Can you trust me?” Izo asked, placing his fingertips under your chin and lifting your face. You looked up at him with your doe eyes and Izo knew in that instant you’d be coming with him on the ship. He’d been wavering on it since he smelled your scent but the fear in your eyes and the bruises on your arms told a story of their own.

“ I trust you, Commander Izo.” You hadn’t tried to scent him but he wondered if his presence was as calming to you as yours was to his. You picked up your tray and scurried to the back to begin working again.

“Who is it? I’m guessing whoever Wido is” Marco asked quietly. 

“Wido, likely the whole family. I’m not sure exactly what the situation is but it’s nothing good,” Izo commented, finally able to take a sip of the barley tea. He closed his eyes to enjoy the long forgotten taste on his tongue, the simple drink bringing his taste buds to life. “Let me finish the tea first then we’ll investigate,” Izo requested, taking another sip. 

A crash and a voice hissing in the back kitchen told him that wasn’t going to be the case. Izo exchanged a brief glance with Marco before standing so quickly he toppled his chair.

“You stupid bitch! You dropped all those plates? You’d better hope those pirates don’t dine and dash or it’s being added to your debt,” Izo heard the man whisper-yell. Already in motion, Izo had his gun in his hand as he passed through the half curtains into the kitchen. You were cowering from an ugly man, pig nosed just like his sister. He had your upper arms in his tight grip, bruising you even further. He was in the process of shaking you, your hair loose around your face where it had fallen from its style, your cheeks already stained with tears. Izo cocked his gun and pointed it at the man.

“Let go,” was all Izo had the ability to say through his anger. He wanted to shred the man with his bare hands but that would ruin his manicure. Wido let go of you, his arms lifting into the air in the universal image of surrender. 

“ Come here Tasuke,” he called to you in a soft voice. Looking first at Wido, who hadn’t moved since Izo had come into the kitchen, you looked at his gun pointed at your adopted “brother.”

“Come little Omega, I won’t hurt you,” he continued to coo at you as you tentatively came to his side. He put his arm around your shoulders, wrapping you in the scent and comfort of his winter kimono. 

“She’s leaving. For good,” Izo informed the paling man.

“B-but we need her, she’s -” Wido stammered. You gasped as Izo fired a warning shot, grazing the man’s ear. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground as if Izo had shot him in the stomach.

"Get up," Izo sneered to the crying man. He had no patience for those who would inflict violence on others but were weak to the smallest injury themselves.

“Let’s go,” Izo told the shaking Omega. He’d explain everything to Pops, he wasn’t worried about your reception. You could easily join Thatch’s division with your obvious talent in baking. He’d be there to help you every step of the way, basking in your scent all the while.

“Don’t know why you’d want the scentless bitch anyway, useless trash,” Izo heard Wido mutter under his breath as you left the kitchens. Marco frowned and stood up as Thatch finished off the rest of his tea and did the same, cracking his knuckles. He made eye contact with Ace and smiled. Ace’s eyes lit up with glee as his hands crackled with fire, the implication between them clear. 

“Have fun, Ace," Izo said, herding the Omega out of the shop. 

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

Shortest

Sacred Spaces masterlist, Heart Pirates reader-insert

Being the shortest in the crew has its perks and drawbacks.

Being the shortest came with its fair share of trouble with life on the Polar Tang.

For a submarine, the Polar Tang was built almost luxuriously. But the caveat was that it was built with height in mind. It was a blessing for many of your crew, those like Jean Bart and Shosai being able to navigate the halls comfortably for the most part (though the size of the navigation seats couldn’t be helped). It was a curse for shorter members like you, especially when you needed to get something from the kitchen cabinets.

‘Sugar’ glinted mockingly down at you in blocky letters, the container somehow set atop the uppermost shelf. Grumbling, you glanced around to make sure nobody was there before gingerly climbing atop the counter. Your fingers trembled as they fell a few scant inches short of the container.

How Risso managed to navigate the kitchen despite only being taller than you by a bit always stumped you.

Before you could do something drastic, a weight pressed into your back, pressing all the air out of you as someone invaded your space. Red strands of hair fluttered into your vision, and you muttered a curse as Shachi’s familiar voice rang in your ears. “Aw, does our wittol Taiwor need some help to get something from up high?” 

“Shut up!” You barked, trying to shake off the redhead’s bulk, lunging for the sugar, but too late as tanned fingers swooped them from the shelf. 

The man stepped back for you to hop down, and you did, whirling around to face him. Though he was the shortest of the Swallow Island quartet, he was still tall enough to easily keep the tin out of your reach as you reached.

“I just wanted some goddamn tea!”

“What’s the magic word?”

Incensed, you jumped at him, making sure your boots landed on his toes. “I’ll make a pincushion out of your ass, Shachi!”

***

Being the shortest did really come with its fair share of teasing. 

You ducked, avoiding the arm that Hakugan was throwing over you, ready to use you as an armrest. “Oi!”

The helmsman yipped, toppling over as he couldn’t correct himself in time. “Hey!”

His arm latched onto the back of your suit, bringing you down with him. You both landed on the navigation room floor with a thud, immediately breaking into a half-hearted squabble as the two of you wrestled on the floor.

“You idiot! Why’d you pull me down!”

“I was falling!”

Your fist bonked onto the forehead of his mask, not enough to damage anything, but strong enough for him to feel your ire. “I told you that you needed to stop putting your arm on my head!”

“But you’re so convenient as a table! Just the right height!”

“Shut up, Hakugan!” You gritted, one hand pushing back his own as you fought him from palming your face. “You’re not even that much taller than me!” 

You were ready to grapple him until a winner emerged, but a metaphorical rope was thrown your way when you saw the wobbly top point of a familiar hood. Muscles straining, you froze, pushing back Hakugan’s hands as you quickly hatched up a plan.

“Helmsman on the floor!” You yelled, scrambling off of him as some of the crew honed in on the sight.

It had the exact result you wanted.

“Dogpile Hakugan!” Clione yelled, diving on top of the already downed pirate.

That prompted a chain reaction for some of the other members present, Ikkaku and Shachi following suit. The masked man let out a weak wheeze underneath everyone that quickly turned to terror as thumping footsteps approached. The crew screamed as Bepo’s shadow fell over them.

“Bepo, no!”

“Please stop!”

“I’m gonna die!!!” 

You scuttled away before the navigator could turn on you.

***

Being the shortest meant that Bepo’s hugs enveloped you completely, even more so than any of your other crew members. There were many a time when you’d startled someone hidden in the depths of Bepo’s fur by responding to something. You often used that to your advantage, hiding within the safe confines of his bulk to de-stress

A questioning call of your name roused you from where you lay, swallowed up by Bepo’s fluff. After a moment of contemplation, you poked your head up. “Yeah?”

Tanaka screamed, a high-pitched note that rivaled Mozart’s, startling Bepo beneath you. He pushed his glasses up nervously and cleared his throat as you two leveled an unimpressed look at him. “Ahem. Sorry. Can you help fix my cap?”

A second look showed that he was wringing said brown cap in his hands, his jaw-length locks swaying free. From where you were, you could see the frayed threads, something that would most likely mean a painstaking session bent over your table. But despite your aching back, duty called. You sighed and began to struggle up from where you were lying. “Alright, let me s—”

The rest of your sentence was cut off by a yelp as Bepo’s arms latched around your midriff, pulling you back. He rolled to the side, locking you underneath hid arms. “No, sorry. Rest time.”

“B-But I’m the ship’s tailor!” You protested. 

“Captain’s orders. If it’s not major, then you’re not working,” Bepo murmured, nuzzling his head atop of yours. “Tanaka repair your own things. Sorry.”

~~~

Sometimes your height was useful to the crew in more serious ways.

Law handed you a slip of paper, a rough map drawn on it. A bar’s name was written and marked on top of everything, and you already knew what to expect. “Tailor-ya, think you can scout out this place for me?”

“Sure thing. The usual?”

“Yes. Dress down, and try not to interact with anything too much.”

You took the paper, scanning over the map before pocketing it for disposal later. “Got it, Captain.”

“Uni and some of the younger crew members will be on the island for supplies restocking, but they might not be around when you set out, so expect to be on your own.”

“Yes, sir.”

While the crew prepared their pre-docking procedures, you made your way back into your workshop, digging out an outfit in preparation for those going onto the island. It was during times like these that Law’s strict modus operandi came in handy. No unnecessary, garish, attention-seeking skirmishes, uniforms to blend in with each other as much as possible, and a fair amount of time being underwater ensured that the Heart Pirates’ individual identity still remained in a gray area. That, along with your height, made you especially unnoticeable compared to the other members. So once you took off the distinctive uniform and the more distinctive sunhat you wore out, you were the perfect person to move about unnoticed.

You were rummaging for a shirt when the overhead intercom system crackled to life, Law’s low voice filtering through. “Everyone, we’ve arrived.”

Ditching your current task, you followed your nakama up the metal stairs to the entrance doors. Uni, Clione, and the newer members (though not too new, since they’ve been with you all for a few months already) were readying to leave, the hooded man jumping and rushing over when he saw you.

The blonde shoved a small dagger into your hand, patting the appendage. “I heard you’re going out later. It’s nothing big but just in case.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, squeezing Clione’s hand before he pulled away to vault over the railing to the dock below (to Law’s loud chastising for him to ‘stop doing that goddamnit you’re gonna break your ankle!’).

You and Law watched the merry band head off, you waving, while Law was as stoic as ever. When the group disappeared around the corner, the man turned to head back into the submarine, and you followed suit.

“Do you need anything before you head out later, Tailor-ya?”

“No. I’ve got everything prepared. Should I join the crew to help with our post-docking procedures?”

Law exhaled through his nose. “I told you already. You don’t have to do that whenever I send you out for surveillance. Just rest up. I need you to be sharp for tonight.”

You gave him a joking salute and split off to head to your workshop. “Got it, Cap’n!”

Your workspace did need some tidying, so you puttered around in the little room until the sky outside the porthole got dark, shucking off your boiler suit and pulling on your outfit for the night. Something nondescript, darker to blend into the area, but not so that you’d look suspicious. One final glance at the map Law gave you confirmed where you were going before you shredded the paper and left.

Ikkaku poked her head out to say a quick goodbye as you breezed past, Risso following suit with a reminder to come back in time for dinner.

“I’m making the Captain’s favorite tonight!”

The thought of his warm food got you drooling. “Got it!”

The night air was gentle on your face as you stepped out of the submarine. Law was already on deck, and he turned to greet you. “Do you have everything?”

You nodded, patting your waistband where you hid Clione’s knife. “I have the dagger Clione left me.”

“Good.” Law tossed a rope ladder over the submarine side, and you began climbing down. “Don’t be reckless.”

Your boots hit the wood below you. “I won’t.”

The map was burned into your mind’s eye as you navigated deeper into the little island town. Even with the encroaching night, a few establishments remained lit. However, the number of souls on the street decreased as you headed closer to the bar of interest.

Noise slammed into you the moment you opened the doors, a disorienting contrast from the quiet outside. However, the chaos was an advantage as you slipped in without drawing any attention, eyes skimming over the area. Your ears caught the murmuring of a familiar moniker.

Bingo. Law’s information was true as always.

You slipped into the bar seat nearest to your target, ordering a lighter drink and settling down.

There were always a few things you kept a lookout for. Movements of other powerhouses, mentions, and bounties relating to the Heart Pirates. But the main one was anything relating to Doflamingo. It was a given, with your Captain’s past hanging over the crew. There was no one other than that man who everyone kept such vigilant eyes and ears out for, anything picked up relayed back to Law with haste. Depending on the nature of the information, it would set the course of your trip for the next few weeks, whether it be submerged deep below water or sailing at a breakneck speed to another place.

Their organizations, as well as any and all names the Donquixote leader went by, were long-memorized by you so that you could catch any and all information.

Your skin crawled at the mentions of slaves passed offhandedly between the men at the table. An auction, generously funded by Joker, on an island north of here. A rare commodity considering he never liked to dabble in this part of the Blue, so far away from his normal base of operations.

You stuck around for as long as you could, picking up the date and location passing between booze-loosened lips. Hearing enough, you paid for your drink and slid out of your seat, making your way to the bar exit. As you rounded the corners of the streets, you thought that everything went well enough, until the shuffle of footsteps fell in line behind you.

“Going somewhere so quickly? I’m surprised you didn’t stay for longer.”

You stilled, slowly pivoting to face the man behind you, feeling the way your body broke into a cold sweat. Though you didn’t show anything as you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had a little rat listening to us. I just wanted to see what tidbits were swiped by greedy hands while my friends were discussing business.”

Resisting the urge to scoff at his cheesy words, you backed up, hand clasping over the hidden blade Clione forced into your hands earlier. Its handle was sturdy under your hands, but you didn’t have a chance to use it. Faster than you could react, he was in front of you. Pain exploded in your gut as he slammed a foot into it, sending you flying and hitting the wall of the opposing building and falling to the ground. You retched, stomach acid and spit coming up as you curled in to cradle your stomach. A shadow fell over your curled-over form, and you tensed, hand clenching the handle in your grip. Scuffed boots appeared at in your vision, and you struck, forcing battered muscles into overdrive as you swiped the dagger up, hoping it’d land.

The blade glanced harmlessly off him and the man slammed into you, vision exploding into stars before your air was cut off. You were dragged up, feet leaving the ground.

Oh no.

Though you haven’t been doing this for too long, you’d gotten careless at the ease in which the previous mission went.

You clawed at the vice-like grip around your neck, your borrowed dagger clattering to the ground as the man choking you out wretched your dominant hand to the side. The tips of your boots scrapped the ground beneath, barely making contact with the dirt. A glimpse of gleaming black on the limb holding you made you curse your luck.

Haki.

Damn him, you thought, baring your teeth in a desperate, animal display, ignoring the throbbing that came from the left side of your face. Even if you still had the knife in your grasp, you wouldn’t have escaped anyway. Someone with Uni’s stature or Moose’s strength could’ve handled it. But not you.

Jeering laughter echoed around you as you aimed weak kicks at the one holding you up.

“Who do you work for? Or are you just some nosy brat?” He asked, shaking you around like a rag doll.

Your eye bulged out of your head as he squeezed. The bones of your neck creaked like fragile butterfly wings within his hold. Against his size and abilities, you were helpless. A toy for the larger dogs to chew up. Your skin prickled as you felt eyes raking down your form, and you felt exposed without your usual thick, baggy boiler suit.

It shouldn’t have been like this.

Law was going to be upset.

“Hm, I could make you squeak. I’ll just have to take you back to my boys—”

“Let go of my nakama!”

The rest of his words were cut off by a grunt as something slammed into him. The world went sideways as you slipped from the man’s grasp, landing with a rough tumble as rocks and pebbles dug into your unprotected skin. Taking a few moments, you drew in wheezy gasps before trying to stand up. 

Hands caught you as your legs crumpled, and you were scooped up into warm arms.

“H-Hang on,” Bowser’s voice reassured you. “Don’t worry! Uni and Penguin’s got it covered, and we’re going to bring you to the captain!”

You tried to speak, but all that sounded was a hoarse rattle, the ring of fire around your neck aching like a brand. Breathing was equally difficult, and you relented to force wheezing, whistling breaths through your windpipe, limp in your nakama’s hold all the way until you were laid out on the infirmary bed, back in the Polar Tang again.

Through the haze of pain, you forced a smile at the figures hovering above you, unable to discern anybody due to the light shining down. You knew it must’ve been an unpleasant sight, the blood vessels in your eyes no doubt ruptured from the trauma.

Your name was said alongside Law’s familiar honorific. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

That was all the reassurance you needed as Law’s Room flickered on. The feeling of his fruit sectioning you apart was familiar at this point, and you closed your eyes. Your full trust laid in your captain’s abilities as you fell into darkness.

For others, it would’ve been terrifying to be on the receiving end of Law’s powers, but you and the Heart Pirates have never been led wrong by him. 

By the time you awoke, you could breathe again. The deep inhale you did came with a dull ache, but nothing of the caliber that you felt before. Shuffling came from the side of your bed, and you glanced over to see your captain standing up from his chair.

“Don’t speak,” Law said brusquely, interrupting you before you could even begin. “You have two fractured ribs and severe bruising surrounding your neck and the facilities there. Luckily, nothing was broken. I did the best I could to realign everything, but there was not much I could do about the ruptured blood vessels. You’re on bed rest until you heal.”

You exhaled, the motion coming with a dull pain as the muscles around your jaws ached. Your captain didn’t meet your eyes, fussing with the various equipment on the bedside table next to you. A common sign of his guilt as he tried to act busy.

Reaching out, you grabbed the edge of his shirt sleeve and tugged, halting the man in his actions. You lifted a hand to mime writing something, which he understood right away. A pencil and paper were thrust into your hands, and you quickly got writing. When done, you shoved the pad at him.

‘Not your fault.’

Law huffed, passing the pad to you. He pressed a hand onto your head, pushing you down. “You’re literally in the infirmary bed right now. Because of a mission, I sent you on.”

‘I chose to go, I’m the best at it. It’s not like our lives are only full of sunshine and rainbows as pirates. And you fixed me up now, yeah?’

“You know better than to over-rely on me,” he scolded.

‘But you take care of us so well, Captain!’

Law scowled, tugging on his hat as he averted his gaze. You squinted, seeing a bit of pink flushing over his skin. “Whatever. Did you manage to gather anything important?”

At that reminder, you brightened, pencil flying across the paper. You wrote down all the information you heard from those men, ripping out the page and presenting it to Law with a flourish. He took it, scanning everything. Gold eyes widened as he comprehended the information written on it. He gingerly folded up the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

“Ah. I see. Thank you.”

Knocking echoed on the infirmary door, drawing your attention away. “Captain?” Bepo’s voice questioned through the door.

Law let out an aggrieved sigh. “The lot of you can come in. Tailor-ya’s awake.”

The door slammed open, and you jolted as a veritable pile of crewmates spilled in, with Bepo’s orange-bright suit in front. Law gave a final word of warning for them to be gentle before the group skidded to a stop in front of you. You smiled at them, ignoring the slight ache that bloomed where you got hit. You could see their hesitation and tilted your head.

“You had pretty bad bruising,” Law told you. “I removed most of the blood from the broken vessels, but the ones in your eyes are too delicate for me right now.”

He gritted his teeth, and you could see his silent decision being made. You could already see him looking for more medical texts the next time the Tang docked at an island.

“Are hugs allowed?” Somebody asked tentatively.

Law exhaled a sigh, lifting an arm to flap his hand dismissively. “Do whatever. It’s mostly cosmetic and very minor injuries left. But don’t be too rough, either way.”

That was all the approval you needed, and you opened your arms.

Bepo’s wrapped around you first, and you relaxed into the Mink, letting out a soft sigh as Law stepped back for more space. A hand landed on your head, ruffling your hair. Uni’s hand, based on the length of the fingers. More arms wormed beneath Bepo, over Bepo, but all of them wrapped around you. An offended squawk from the side signaled that even Law was roped into the mix.

Being the shortest in the crew had its drawbacks, sometimes serious ones. But you didn’t mind. You knew your nakama was there to support you.

It's too hot outside

snapshots. [—chilchuck tims]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, modern au,       minor pining, background marcille/falin WC: 1,000 NOTE: divorced father of 3 save me... save me       divorced father of 3...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI.

“Move over.”

Chilchuck’s voice startles you. The bowl in his hands is steaming: a hearty stew made with Falin and Marcille’s collective effort—(“Senshi’s tried and true recipe!”). A thick slice of bread perches on its rim. It smells just as heavenly as it did at dinner.

“Here?” you ask, stupefied. The armchair you’ve claimed is wide; there’s easily enough space to fit a Chilchuck-sized person, but your mind jumps—unbidden—to the reason he’d been late in the first place.

“Where else?” He nudges you with his knee. “As if I’m gonna sit near that love-fest over there.”

“You’re not welcome anyways,” Marcille tuts, midway through dipping the maraschino cherry from her sundae into Falin’s mouth.

“This is my apartment!”

You concede with a laugh: it’s just your bruised heart working overtime. The moment his body settles, shoulders touching, you stop being able to taste the ice cream Laios had scooped into your bowl. Existence narrowing to that point of contact with a familiar little rush.

It’s Laios’ turn to choose tonight’s movie, much to Marcille’s dismay—(“A documentary classifies! This is a really interesting one!”)—and he scrolls to find it as Chilchuck digs into his food.

Midway through, you engage him in a thrilling mock-battle of fencing spoons. Falin dozes, lulled from the careful stroke of Marcille’s fingers through her hair. By the time the credits roll, they’re folded onto each other, soft snores drowned out by music.

“They fell asleep again,” Chilchuck drawls, chin cushioned against his hand.

“Must be crashing after all that sugar,” Laios suggests, drapes a blanket over them.

“They were pretty high energy tonight. Eager to hear about how Chilchuck’s date went, I guess,” you tease, taking up the mantle with Marcille fast asleep. “You didn’t even tell us her name.” Keeping the tone casual despite the haunting little pit in your stomach.

(It’d been a shock to hear about it: for as long as you’ve known him, Chilchuck has been eager to keep his life private—even from long-time friends. And there’d been no signs of anyone—except you and your little group—coveting his time and attention; no extra, unexplained toothbrushes, no brands you don’t recognize in his pantry, no missed get-togethers.)

“Huh?” He gives you a look, confusion twisted in his features. The TV’s light illuminates a silver hair. “I wasn’t with any girl.”

Your brow furrows. “…His name? Their name?”

Chilchuck stares. This close—where the minuscule twitches in his expression are noticeable—it’s strangely evaluating.

“You know Marcille was joking when she said it was a date, right?” Heat sears along your cheekbones; embarrassment flushing hot under his gaze—the realization of your mistake.

“Of course I knew,” you say stupidly. Chilchuck’s eyebrow quirks. “Shut up. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, then if it wasn’t a date, who were you with?”

“Senshi,” he says. “He was—we, uh,” his eyes slide off to the side, “I asked him for a favor.”

“Oh?” you hum, relief and mirth creating a warm hum behind your ribs. “Looking to get a side hustle as a cook?”

“Not even close,” he grunts, looking away.

“Should we start calling you our little master chef?” You nudge him with a grin.

“Chilchuck is already quite good at cooking,” Laios pipes up without taking his eyes off the screen. “Maybe he’ll learn to make something else after mastering ramen.”

“Hey—”

“Ramen?” you ask, head tilting. “Like, the instant kind?”

Chilchuck splutters. “No!”

“From scratch!” Laios beams. “Senshi’s said he’s been making really good progress since his first day.”

“Oh?” you grin. “Our little master chef is gonna open a ramen shop?”

“Shut up. No way. Not ever,” Chilchuck grumbles, the high curve of his ear a soft pink.

“I hope you’ll make it for us one day—I love ramen,” you say. “Very tedious, though, so I’ve never done it myself.”

His face scrunches, mouth pursing together like he wants to speak, but doesn’t. His cheeks puff with air, releasing as a long, quiet sigh.

“Oh, hey, so after ramen”—you lean a hand on the chair’s opposite arm, boxing him in with a cheeky little smile—“you should look into French onion soup. It’s probably easier than ramen but caramelizing the onions takes so long—”

“You—!” he leans back, shoulders tense and eyes wide. “Don’t go making requests before I’ve even cooked anything decent.”

“Why not? I bet it’ll be great! You’re good with your hands, so soup is probably a piece of cake for you.” You watch—with no small amount of pleasure—as Chilchuck’s face flushes with vivid color.

“Get away from me,” he mumbles, but his tone is so insincere all you do is laugh. He knocks a loose fist against the inside of your elbow. A surprised noise jumps out; you retreat back against the chair, rubbing the spot.

“Mmh?” Marcille rouses with a sleepy hum. “What’re you requestin’?”

“Chilchuck is making us ramen,” you joke, relishing the way he knocks an admonishing leg against yours. “He’s our little master chef.”

“Oh, yeah. Did Laios end up spilling the beans?” Marcille yawns. Falin stirs, eyes fluttering. “Congratulations, you two.”

Chilchuck goes stiff beside you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

Marcille pauses, head tilting with a drowsy look of confusion. “Huh? Didn’t you ask why he’s learning to make it?” she asks. Falin tugs her sleeve.

You blink. “No. Should I have?” Marcille doesn’t respond right away, head bent to put an ear by Falin’s mouth, expression pinched as they whisper. Then, with a sigh, she reaches up to stretch.

“No. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Laios is quick to grab her attention.

“Hey, so are you actually opening a ramen shop?” you whisper to Chilchuck.

“You’re such an airhead,” he grunts against his palm.

“I’m great,” you reply. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. When next he speaks, his voice is soft—acquiescing easily to your jest.

“Guess you are.”

Small Mushishi sketch in Procreate

Hmm. Thinking,,,about writing a thatch oneshot

-Paper Confessions-

- Kurt Wagner/nightcrawler x Shy!Reader

- After Kurt receives two anonymous confession letters, written in slowly improving German. He comes face to face with their quiet author. -

- CW: fluff, bad German, references to insecurities, Gn!reader

The first time it happened, Kurt didn't know what to think. Messy handwriting, horrible grammar, and other blatant mistakes led him to believe the note must have been some kind of elaborate prank.

It seemed honestly quite rude, that someone he knew would go through the trouble of translating an entire fake secret admirer note into German, just to mock the idea that someone could honestly have feelings for him.

Compliments like, 'Der netteste Mann, den ich kenne' or 'der schönste Mann, den ich je gesehen habe' read as cruel insults instead of words of appreciation.

Needless to say, the following day, Kurt was visibly disheartened. You however, were quite proud of yourself. The days before, you had spent countless hours reading and practicing German, in an earnest effort to learn it.

Ever since you had developed feelings for Kurt, you had been painfully unable to communicate how you felt towards him, any attempt to have a genuine conversation resulted in stammers and awkward silences, so you opted to appreciate him from the sidelines. Spending quiet hours in each other's company.

Yet, it had been months since then, and the need to express to him how you felt was becoming too great, so you crafted an idea. You would write him a note, something truly meaningful, to get the stress of hiding your emotions off your chest, even deciding to write it in German, in order to show Kurt just how much you cared.

Your efforts were seemingly in vain however, as the first attempt went incredibly poorly, so poorly you trashed it, where without your knowledge, it managed to find itself into the hands of the very person it was written for.

Kurt had been in the library when he found the crumpled paper with his name on it. He thought it was odd of course, but figured its author wished him to receive it. He regretted that decision after reading it. A cruel insult to all the effort he had put into seemingly as kind and approachable as possible, not wishing to be seen as a monster.

You were of course, confused, when Kurt was inexplicably downtrodden the next day. Everyone could tell, yet any attempt to comfort him was brushed off. When approached, he just claimed to be tired or unfocused.

Observing this, you poured yourself into your books again. Writing, practicing, translating, anything you could do to perfect your skills. Finally, nearly three days later, you had finished your note. Imperfect, but unlike your first failed attempt, you felt confident in your progress. You slipped it under his doorway of course, anonymity was your saving grace.

Despite your original plan, you couldn't bring yourself to admit the confession, leaving it unsigned. You hoped that at least getting your feelings off your chest would help you relax.

Kurt however, was only further confused. This second note, properly addressed to him, left for him to find, was much less demeaning. Still imperfect, in fact it was painfully clumsy in his eyes, but a vast improvement. If he had read this note first, he would have been over the moon with joy. Yet, the cruel doubt etched in him from the original note, clouded his mind from the possibility of sincerity.

He thought through his suspects, Logan, Storm and Jean, seemed like obvious no's, Remy, Scott, or even Rogue seemed more likely, yet he had a hard time believing any of his teammates would do this.

Then you crossed his mind. Painfully shy, but confident in a fight, you seemed far from anyone who would do this. Yet part of him hoped it was you. That he had gotten this whole thing wrong, and that you had been secretly reciprocating his affections.

Kurt had liked you for months, after you patched him up after a seriously bad mission, he felt comfortable around you. When you first arrived, Kurt assumed you were scared of him, you always seemed to avoid him, and never seemed to want to keep a conversation with him. Yet, when he asked if you found him monstrous, you were honest. Saying that you found him quite kind, but that you simply struggled to make friends, and had been intimidated by his forwardness.

So, Kurt took his time. He let you approach first, he was constantly welcoming, and you two had found yourself in a pattern of spending quiet afternoons in each other's company. Not talking, or even really hanging out, just being in each other's presence.

That's when he developed feelings, the quiet moments you shared, seemed like the most relaxed Kurt ever got to be. You were beautiful of course, but being near you reminded Kurt of a warm blanket or a cold towel on a hot day. gentle, and refreshing.

So, that's what Kurt hoped for. That his assumption was wrong, and that you had been writing these for him. It seemed unlikely, and part of him truly believed he was wrong, but it made him feel giddy to think you could feel the same.

You, on the other hand, and only dig yourself a deeper hole. Your work was pointless, you still felt overwhelmed by your wish to confess to Kurt, and the fact that you had put so much time into trying to escape it, weighed you down like bricks on your shoulders.

"You've got to tell him properly. Right now he's probably thinking he's about to get swept off his feet by the girl of his dreams, and you're too scared to admit it's you." Jean teased.

"You're right...I know....I just can't even bring myself to look him in the eyes." You signed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

"Then don't, hell if you don't want your work to go to waste, just actually put your name down this time." Jean rolled her eyes in response.

"Are you sure that's a good idea though? I mean I can hardly talk to him now, what if after he finds out he doesn't even want to be around me?" Jean patted your back and you rubbed circles into your temples.

"He won't. You two just need to communicate for once."

So, you wrote again. One last letter, rambling painfully about how much you cared for him. Detailing every way he made you smile. Reading it back made you want to almost vomit with cringe, but you didn't know how else to say what you felt.

So, as you had done days prior, you snuck to his room, slipping it under the door frame. However, this time, as you turned to flee, you were treated by a familiar *bamf*

"Mein freund... This was... You?" Before you know it, you're face to face with the fuzzy blue boy of your dreams.

"I... Uhm..yeah." you nod, staring down at your feet, a bright red blush stinging your cheeks.

Without another word, Kurt begins to read your most recent note. You shift uncomfortably, debating whether to run, or to freeze in place.

"You've improved quite a bit Schatz... I am glad." He looks down at you, a wide smile, and indigo blush gracing his features.

You chuckle awkwardly, unable to formulate a genuine response.

"Ich liebe dich auch." He rests a hand on your shoulders, calming your fidgeting, and freezing you in place.

"y-you.... Really?" You stare at him, wide eyed in disbelief.

"of course, meine Liebe. I have for quite some time. In all honesty, I had been wishing it was you."

Without thinking, or saying a word, you pull him into a hug. Burying your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around him.

"good."

- end. -

Bruh did I just get clocked wtf

Thatch is the drama queen we all secretly need/are

Also Izou is so soft ❤️❤️❤️ I’m so looking forward to Tasuke settling into the crew omggg

Snow Fall, Part 2 (Alpha!Izou x Omega!Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The first chapter

***SPOILERS FOR WANO***

Thanks for being patient, I got kinda stuck but I'm back into the groove of this fic. Thank you to @gouraminnow for beta-ing this <3

“ Commander Izou, my h-home is to the right,” you stated with uncertainty as Izou carried you in his arms to your residence. You were wearing flimsy cloth shoes that were unsuitable for the winter climate on the island. By the rips on the sides and wear on the soles, you’d been wearing them a long time. Izou had determined he needed to carry you to the next destination to avoid having you freeze to death. Yet another reason Izou wasn’t upset by the destruction his brothers were wreaking on your employer. 

Izou also told you to pack up whatever you needed and that you'd be coming with him to the ship. He told you that he was taking you away from your adopted family and you hadn’t protested. You weren’t looking at him directly as he’d informed you but staring off into the distance. You’d protested initially but he had left no room for argument. He could scent your fear and felt your trembling fingers wrapping themselves around his neck as he carried you through the snowy town. He’d have more time to explain later that you’d be safe, that nothing bad was going to happen to you ever again. But for now he wanted to put as much space as he could between you and the horrible people to dare call themselves your family. 

“B-but Commander, you don’t need to hold me, I can -” you’d been trying to get him to put you down since he’d first swept you off your feet; he'd plucked you off the ground you’d even made contact with the snowy sidewalk.

“Carrying you pleases me,” Izou said simply. Given your reserved nature as well as the strict social hierarchy you were raised with, he knew you’d defer to him.  It was a dance he hadn’t done in a long time, playing along with the social cues and mores of Wanese culture but in this case it worked to his advantage. If he tried to explain that you were under dressed for the weather or that he felt the need to feel your meager weight in his arms, you’d protest further to prevent inconveniencing him. Truthfully, it did please him to carry you, to have your scent so close to his own, to feel the reassurance of you in his arms. He’d carry you forever if you let him. 

“Ah, this is it,” you indicated, pointing to a large, solid brick house with smoke coming out the chimney. At least they’d given you a proper place to live, he thought to himself. As Izou stepped on the cleared path to the house, you shook your head. 

“N-no, sorry. The house behind this one,” you said quietly, pointing to a shack set back in the snowy woods.

Of course.

Izou noted the rickety shack and the rags covering the windows - either to keep in heat or to keep prying eyes out. Swiftly walking towards the hut, he opened the door and set you down inside.

“Gather your things,” Izou said softly, putting his hand on the small of your back to encourage you. The inside of the single room hut was as dismal as Izou imagined it would be. There were gaps in the thin wood walls, letting in the harsh winter air. Your tiny bed was crammed into the corner, leaving enough room for a table and a broken chair. There was a small chest, he assumed for your clothes and other necessities. There was a tiny stove, barely large enough to boil a kettle of water. Your home, if it could be called that, was tidy and clean. You'd tried to brighten the space with pictures and dried flowers but it hadn't helped the dismal feeling inside the shack.

“I apologize for the state of my house, Commander. If I had known someone like you would be joining -” you were already bowing to him again, your hands stiff at your side balled into fists. Izou bent down to put his hands on your shoulders and righted you to an upright position.

“Do not apologize. Collect your things,” Izou ordered in a gentle tone. You frowned but nodded and walked over to the small bookshelf on the wall. You grabbed an old, battered tome, wrapping it like you were swaddling a baby in one of the few blankets on your bed. Holding it to your chest, you put it in a basket and saw Izou watching you.

“Ah, the cookbook my father gave me before I left Wano,” you said in answer to Izou’s unasked question. You’d mentioned leaving Wano a few times but Izou hadn’t heard of many people leaving the country in recent years. He’d have to get the full story out of you on the Moby. Moving towards you, he noted a picture of himself tacked onto the wall.  It was from his most recent Wanted Poster (an attractive photo, if he did say so himself). You had cut off the bottom portion with his bounty and wanted status so it looked more like a photograph of a friend - or lover. You followed Izou’s eyes towards the picture and hung your head.

“This is embarrassing. Please do not take offense, Commander,” you begged while looking down at your feet. Izou laughed softly into the sleeve of his winter yukata. 

“What man would take offense at a beautiful woman having his picture on the wall? Please, continue to gather your things. I would like to take you away from here. This building offends me,” Izou said. You were spurred into action from his words. You gathered a few clothing items and a lacquer hair comb, likely also from Wano based on the style. 

“I am finished, Commander. I await your next instruction,” you replied seriously, like you were one of the men under his command. He’d have to get you to relax eventually, to accept help and seek it out from him. The Alpha in him wanted to grab you and take you back to his rooms, to show you he could protect you. But Izou knew you were traumatized and nervous, unsure what to do with yourself while you navigated the relationship between them. He’d give you the time and space you needed to recover before making any large moves. Well, larger than taking you to the Moby Dick and away from the island you called home.

“That is all? Do you have more winter clothes? You are not returning to this residence,” Izou stated, nearing you once more. You shook your head and took a step back, making him scowl at your learned muscle memory. Maybe he should return to the shop and teach your family some lessons in proper manners towards women.

“You will come to no harm under my hand, either from myself or any other,” Izou said softly, cornering you against the wall. You cowered away from him, increasing his anger towards those who had harmed you. Without warning he picked you up again, making you squeak in surprise. The scent of fear was strong in the air, souring your perfect snowy smell. Izou detected the scent of his own anger joining your fear, a potent but unpleasant combination.

“I apolog -”

“Do not apologize to me. None of this is your fault,” Izou said, cutting you off. He wished he had met you in Wano, perhaps before you’d become so averse to any kind of conflict.

“Where are you taking me, Commander -”

“ Izou. Just Izou,” he corrected. If he was going to be your Alpha, you needed to get used to calling him by his first name without any honorifics. He didn’t want to force you to be his mate but he was going to do everything in his power to make it so.

“I-izou, where are we going? To another island? Are you taking me back to Wano?” you asked, your hands kneading together as your legs dangled over his arm. Izou frowned at your question. You were agreeable to leaving the island to get away from the people who had been abusing you but he wasn’t so sure how happy you’d be sailing the seas with pirates, especially ones as notorious as the Whitebeard Pirates.

“Would you like to go back to Wano?” Izou couldn’t take you but Kiku was likely still there. Perhaps he could find a way…you paused, considering his question in silence before speaking in a tone so soft he almost couldn’t hear.

“No, there’s nothing for me there. I - my - there’s no one there I don't think,” you said softly. You didn’t say anything further and neither did he as he felt your warm breath on his neck. Afterwards the only sound was Izou’s boots crunching on the icy path as he continued to walk towards the ship. He didn’t want to pry, it was your story to tell, but he was burning to hear how you’d escaped Wano. 

“You’ll come with me on the Moby Dick, Whitebeard’s ship. We will figure out next steps from there,” Izou stated less as a suggestion and more a demand. You looked up at him through your lashes and gave a short nod of your head. That was all it took for Izou to leave the hovel you’d been calling home, reminding himself to have Ace torch the family home later.

“Should I - is my debt transferring to you?” you asked, your hands gripping his clothes as he walked through the wintry terrain. The closer you were to him, the sharper your snowy scent in his nose. He pulled you closer to his chest to smell you further but resisted from burying his head in your uncovered neck. 

“Yes, you’ve mentioned this debt. To what does it refer? Your…adopted family mentioned it briefly,” Izou asked, as if he was completely unconcerned. 

“Ah, it’s kind of a long story,” you hedged nervously, avoiding his gaze. Izou smelled smoke coming from the other side of the island.

“Is there anyone you’d like to say goodbye to -” Izou began to say before you interrupted him for the first time. He assumed you didn’t want to see your abusers again but perhaps there was someone on the island who had shown you kindness.

“No,” you replied without hesitation. Good, they could wreck and raid the island. Made things easier for Ace to remember. With Ace on his mind, Izou smelled smoke and saw the plume rising from town so Izou decided to take the path away from the center of town on his way to the Marina. He didn’t think it would bother you to see the bakery burning to the ground but he didn’t want to distress you any further. To distract you from the destruction he tried a new avenue of conversation.

“And you are Tasuke, yes? Or is there another name you’d prefer to be called? ’ he continued. He wanted to make sure you felt as comfortable as possible with him. He had heard of other Wanese people taking more “common” names after they defected because their given names were difficult for most people to pronounce.

“Oh, Tasuke isn’t actually my name. It kind of ties into how I came here. About ten years ago, Father - ah, my adopted father - came with the Marines to Wano to trade resources with Kaido -”

“How? The borders are closed and Wano isn’t under the jurisdiction of the World Government, Marines can’t trade there,” Izou asked quietly. He didn’t want to interrupt the flow of your story but he hadn’t heard of Marines on Wano. Not that he’d heard anything out of Wano in 20 years but it was interesting information to know.

“ Ah, my parents owned property along the seashore. Seastone was discovered along the cliffs of their property and Marines paid Kaido for the rights to mine it out,” you explained. Ah, that was the connection. Seastone was known to only come from Wano and given that it was being used by Marines across the Grand Line it made sense they were trading with Kaido. Izou idly wondered how much money Kaido had amassed from seastone mining.

“They spent their life savings to bribe a Captain - Father - to smuggle me out of Wano. I was much younger at the time but still hadn’t presented as anything. Well, I was supposed to be an Omega but my scent never developed. They thought I would have a better life outside of the country, or maybe could find a doctor to tell me what’s wrong with me,” you continued. Izou wasn’t going to interrupt your story again but he wanted to tell you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you, that you were the most perfect Omega he’d ever met. 

“The Captain brought me out of Wano and brought me here, saying that the amount of danger he had risked increased the cost of my trip. He said that the amount of money my parents paid was not sufficient and that I would need to work for him to pay off my debt. So I cleaned his house, tended to his bakery, cooked for his family, did the family’s laundry, anything they needed. He said that my wages were going towards my debt but the amount I owed only ever seemed to increase. They would charge me for anything that I needed, any time I took off for being sick, any food I consumed, anything,” you continued. No wonder you were wearing shoddy clothing, Izou thought, you were paying for it in sweat and blood.

 “So after a few years on the island, I realized Father had no intention of letting me go. And Wido, my brother…well, you saw. He’s always like that - or, um, worse. I kept asking for people to help me - tasukete. I wanted to, ah, leave those people, maybe escape the island and go back to Wano. I didn’t have any concrete plans, I just wanted to leave here,” you said, rubbing your arms where the bruises lingered. Izou fought the urge to scowl at the memory of Wido harming you but settled on holding you tighter in his arms. You needed comfort from him, not aggression. He wanted to show you that he wasn’t a mindless alpha like some, ready to tear off your clothes and sink into you. He wanted you to see that he would wait until you were ready.

“After a while everyone assumed Tasuke was my name and that’s what they called me. I don’t mind anymore,” you said with a small smile as your story concluded. Izou reflected your own mannerism back to you though he felt like murdering everyone on this godforsaken island and leaving nothing standing. Unfortunately he’d have to trust in his brothers to wreak havoc on the island and not partake in this particular adventure.

“ And your parents?” Izou prompted. 

“I haven’t heard anything from them in ten years so I don't know anything for certain. Father’s missions changed and he stopped going to Wano shortly after I came to the island. I can only hope they are alive and well, though they were quite elderly when I left,” you said wistfully, staring at the water he was now approaching by the docks. Izou knew that longing, twisting, yearning. He felt the same for his own sister who he hadn’t been in communication with for decades, since he'd left with Oden. He had written hundreds of letters and saved them all with the intention of somehow getting them to her eventually. His brothers, though sympathetic, didn’t understand what it was like to be completely and irrevocably cut off from home. He wanted to continue the conversation but was now at the dinghy that would take you to the massive ship moored father into the icy ocean.

“Hey! What gives?!” Thatch complained from inside the boat. There was some soot on his winter coat and gloves but Izou didn’t mention it.

“What do you mean?” Izou replied coolly, still cradling you in his arms.

“You’ve never carried me before. Not even when I broke my leg! You made me walk to the beach and Marco had to come get me!” Thatch huffed. 

“.....and?” 

“AND you’ve been carrying her this whole way! S’not fair,” Thatch pouted, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Thatch broke into a soft smile when he saw the confusion on your face, looking between them rapidly while trying to determine if there was true anger between him and Thatch. Izou guessed you spent the last decade walking on eggshells, attempting to maintain peace between your “family” members and avoid being beaten as a consequence.

“S’alright. Come on, let’s head back before we’re barbecued,” Thatch said, grabbing the oars to the boat. Izou stepped into the dinghy, still holding you and your meager belongings. He settled you into his lap as Thatch shot him a dirty look you couldn’t see and began rowing the three of you back to the Moby. Izou rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, his brothers liked to claim he was dramatic but really, Thatch was the biggest drama queen on the ship. You were busy burying your head and hands into Izou’s chest to avoid the freezing winter winds blowing off the seas. Thatch eyed you sympathetically and grabbed the warm winter hat off his own head.

“Ask her if she wants it,” Thatch suggested, holding the gaudy orange hat outstretched in his hand. Izou didn't wear winter hats, they mussed his hair and he didn't often feel cold. But now he wished he did so he could give you his own.

“My brother Thatch is offering you his hat to keep you warm. You may remember him from the bakery. Would you like it?” Izou asked you softly, patting your hair while he spoke. You picked your head up and looked at it longingly.

“How much does it cost? If I just wear it once?” you asked, biting your lip. 

“Nothing. Your debt has been paid off. For good,” Izou said, his voice a little tighter than he intended. Your eyes flicked to his, trying to read his face to determine if he was lying or not. Izou kept his face impassive to let you make your own choices. You turned to face Thatch in the boat and did a bow as large as your limited positioning allowed.

“Thank you,” you said simply, reaching for the hat with shaking fingers. You sniffed the hat as politely as you could and must have found it not repulsive because you put it on your head. Izou was pleased you were warm but was a little annoyed you weren’t wearing anything with his scent on it. He would make some Wanese winter clothes for you like he did for himself once you settled in on the ship. Izou decided to give you some general ideas of who the siblings you had met were.

“Thatch is in charge of the Culinary Division of the crew, Ace - the dark haired young man who ate the most in the bakery - is in charge of Navigation. Marco - the tall blond - is the doctor of the ship and in charge of the Medical Division,” Izou explained. Thatch waved when he heard his name, he probably assumed that Izou was doing introductions. You gave a smile and waved back.

“Nice to meet you,” you said in your beautifully accented voice. Clearly you had learned some Common but your family had likely prevented you from learning enough to make an escape. Language barriers were an easy way to keep you on the island in perpetuity. 

“I would be overjoyed to work in the kitchens if Thatch would have me. I am best at baking but I am also competent at food preparation and stocking, dishes, cleaning, and knowledgeable in cooking most types of standard fare. I would be thrilled to learn anything that is needed to -” Izou took your cold hands in his own, partially to warm them and partially to stop your speech.

“ It would be our pleasure to learn from your expertise in the kitchens. But let me make something clear before we proceed - you do not need to earn your keep. You have no debt to settle and no need to prove your worth. You are free.”

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