#oneshot fanfiction

[monsoonsosoon]

imagine meeting John Wick at a classic car show...

rock music drifts through the crisp air as you stroll amongst the rows of beautiful cars, admiring their gleaming paint jobs, when you spot a particularly eye-catching one parked at the end. it's a grey Mustang, and you're just drawn to it for some reason. it stands out amongst the others

you approach it, in awe at its pristine state. the owner obviously takes great care of it. you lean into the open window, smiling as you take in the gorgeous interior and leather seats. caught up in admiration, you don't notice the handsome older man approaching from behind. the owner of the sports car...john wick.

"like what you see?" a deep voice mutters, startling you. you quickly rise from the window and turn towards the voice.

"oh, I'm sorry sir! I just...really love your car," you say softly, cheeks heating up when you make eye contact with him. wearing a brown leather jacket, a simple black t-shirt, and dark jeans, he looks deliciously rugged.

he chuckles as he leans against his car, looking down at you.

"no worries, I appreciate it. she's my baby," he responds.

"I-it's a Mustang, correct? 1970...?" you ask as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, squirming under his intense gaze.

"close. she's a '69," he replies warmly. you nod in reply, too shy to speak, creating a bit of awkward silence. he digs into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys.

"wanna go for a spin?" he asks, "you seem quite intrigued by her," he says with a small smile.

your eyes widen at the prospect of riding in the beautiful vintage sports car with an even more attractive older man. you bite your lip before nodding excitedly.

"i'd love to...thank you, mister..."

"wick. john wick. But you can just call me john," he replies cooly.

he walks towards the passenger door, pulling it open for you. you give him a shy smile as you settle onto the cozy leather seat. your heart pounds as he walks around the car to the driver's side. you take in his handsome features as he enters, catching a whiff of his alluring cologne.

you blush at his eye contact.

the engine roars to life, and your heart flutters at the powerful vibrations pulsing through the car. you grip the cool metal of the inner door handle, bracing yourself for the ride.

"hold on tight," john utters gruffly as he presses on the gas.

[goldsbitch]

That one Christmas flight

summary: Y/N and Lando Norris are seated next to each other on a long flight. Innocent little Christmas tradition that Y/N does every year brings them just a little too close.

warnings: fluff, one-shot (whops a lie!), meet cute

Christmas. Y/N felt like an alien walking among people. It was impossible to avoid it. It was present in songs, in decoration, in fashion, online and on the news. Everywhere.

It's not like she was a grinch or anything. Nor was it because of some tragic incident causing trauma. Just pure fatigue from all the logistics and travel connected, which most kids of divorced parents faced every year.

Flying from Japan back to England, from her mother to her father, was a chore that seemed unavoidable. Her mother was kind enough to splurge on first class ticket for her, which her fancy Tokio job allowed. Ever since fours years ago, she continued a tradition that was introduced to her by a fellow Christmas traveller - the most stylish sassy French woman, who often spend the holidays on a plane. She would get herself and who ever was sitting next to her a glass of champagne and chat them up. Y/N has never laughed so much in her life like she did when she met this woman - so she took the tradition as her own.

Lando's plan wasn't to be on a flight from Japan to London on the 24th of December. He had so little time with his family and friends that this secret work trip to the Honda factory was really pushing him into staying with McLaren for the following years and not switching to a different team. This whole situation was like fuel for his current headache.

Y/N second guessed her tradition when a super gorgeous looking boy, who seemed to want anything but to be bothered, was sat next to her. She was used to having older people sitting next to her. Anyway, tradition is a tradition, so she eventually got up to order the classic. She nearly turned back at the thought that this guy was giving off some serious "I'm a dick" vibes, he had barely acknowledged her since she sat down. Luckily, she ignored this feeling.

When a glass of champagne appeared before Lando, he was sure it was a mistake.

"Well, to Christmas," his neighbor toasted. While he thought that she was a rather good looking girl, he was in no mood for a fangirl.

"I'm very sorry, um...I'll be happy to take a photo with you or something, but I am not in the best mood for a interaction with a fan."

She gave him a baffled look.

He continued. "Look, I'll be more than happy to sign anything. Or a photo, just as long you keep between un on which flight you saw me."

Y/N put her glass down, this was a first one.

"First of all, sorry for invading your private time. I have this stupid tradition of having a glass with whomever I'm destined to spend this Christmas flight. Guess I was mistaken. Second of all, I have no fucking idea who you are. So, calm down." She downed half of her glass. Of course this stupid year would include an asshole like this. Oh well.

Lando was confused for a moment and immediately after that he felt like an idiot.

"Apologies," he slowly replied, somewhat baffled. "I thought you were a fan and I'm just not in the mood for that." Y/N rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her champagne. "I'm Lando, by the way."

"Is that a stage name?"

"No, " he laghed. "I think it was a random decision of my mom."

"Interesting. Y/N," she introduced herself, without looking at him.

There was a weird tension in the air. Lando was determined to break it. Y/N was currently casually offended.

"Let me get you another one so that we can have a toast."

"Great, getting drunk is also an option. Hate flying sober," she joked.

Another glass was brought by a smiling flight attendant.

"So, how does this work?" Lando asked. Y/N was a person easily annoyed, however as quickly this came it also ended.

"Fine. There are rules, btw."

"Of course there are."

"Ehm, ehm, " she cleared her throat. "So, this tradition was started by Madame Tatanova and from now on, if you find yourself on a plane on 24th or 25th of December, you need to toast with your fellow neighbor passenger and answer the following: why and for how long-"

"I will have to write this down, I have a memory of a dead chicken."

"-I'm not finished! And then you follow up by your biggest regret and one thing nobody knows. The purpose of this is to gain or pass on wisdom and use the opportunity you'd normally miss by blasting up your headphones." She's done this for four times now, still the introduction was missing the "Madame Tatanova magic". Maybe one day.

"Ok..." Lando was not following yet, but he was keen on doing so. She raised her glasses, as did he.

"Cheers, to Christmas flights."

"Cheers, " he replied and they both sipped their champagne. "Wait, I have a question - what would you do if I did not speak English? Or if I was deaf?"

Lando was being his cheeky self and Y/N was not having it. She answered the question with a look.

"Got it! Anyway...what was the question?"

"Why."

"Why? Why is the sky dark or....?"

"Why are you on this plane."

"I'm trying to get to London from Tokio."

"I swear to god, I will ask to be seated somewhere else, Orlando."

"Lando, actually."

"If you say so..."

"Huuh, I'm going back from a work trip. And since you claim not to know me, I can probably tell you more than I should. Um, imagine I am in a band, right? I'm singing for a band and every few years they change their lead singer, one of the two actually, and I'm a the lead singer who might go to a different band now. But it's not clear yet and super secret actually. So, please keep it to yourself." Lando felt like someone who has just discovered speech and this was the first time he was using it. "Does that make any sort of sense?"

"Sort of I think. So you're cheating on your band?"

"Uhh, I'd say checking out options."

"Remind me never to date guys like you," she joked and immediately regretted that. Y/N was not good at flirting and did not want to appear creepy.

Lando passed on this comment, still not sure if he could trust this girl. "So, what about you? Why?"

"The curse of the divorced parents. One lives in London, the other one in Japan and I'm a package they pass each year," she said rather bitterly.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. I get to see mom twice a year and it's all always so planned and predictable. I would kill for spontaneity."

"Take me with you next time, I'm sure she'll be surprised." "Yes, she is a big fan of British guys, that's why she divorced one!"

"Great, happy to follow that route!"

Y/N started to relax a bit. This could be good, actually. "Ok, so now. For long are you staying in London, Lando?"

"Only few weeks. Then our music season starts. "

"Yeah, the one with all the singing, of course."

"Yeeah."

Y/N laughed a bit. He was suprisingly easy to talk to.

"So, how long?"

"A week. Then I'm off to Bologna."

"Uuuh, fancy that!"

"Yeah, I'm studying history there."

"Bologna is the one with the old university?" he asked, pretending he has never heard of that.

"No, not really, they just opened. Last year we did not have chairs, because the shipment got delayed," she replied with a dry tone.

"One does always study better while standing. I believe it was Socrates, who said it."

"Oh, yes. They teach you this at the singing music school?"

"Exactly. We were never allowed to sit."

They continued to chat all the way through the airplane dinner, getting few more glasses of champagne during that. Their laughter was interrupted by a flight attendant, who acted on a complaint from a fellow passenger. They both fell asleep watching a movie. Y/N woke up few times in the night and observed the boy next to her. Knowing this was the best Christmas plane encounter she ever had. Lando woke up as well, feeling strangely happy about the fact she was resting her head on his shoulder.

//

"Wait." Lando stopped her at the entrance to customs hall and pulled them both behind a column, so that they could not be seem by bystanders.

"Yes?" she turned to him.

"This might be weird, but can I kiss you?" Y/N looked at the boy in a hoodie standing in front of her, cheeky guy suddenly appearing nervous. He was absolutely gorgeous. She hated the fact he was random guy on a plane to London and not to Bologna.

"Yes. Must be midnight somewhere. So it could be like a New Years thing."

"Yeah. Just an airport thing." With that he kissed her. Just two young people having a little moment of silence. His kiss was a light slow brush on the lips. He cupped her cheek and her hand brushed through his curly hair. First kiss usually does not take long. For a person passing by, this would appear like kiss these two shared a thousand times before.

When they eventually parted, it all seemed a bit surreal.

"We never got to the second part of your Christmas interview," Lando commented.

"Well. Let's say that the one thing nobody knows is that I just kissed a random guy from the plane. And that my biggest regret is that we will never see each other again." For the first time, she was this bluntly honest with somebody who had just kissed her for the first time. It felt intoxicating.

Lando smiled. "See, I knew we had something in common."

Lando was usually not so open with his crushes, if he could even put her in that category.

"Don't worry. I won't search for you online or anything. I want to keep the mystery of Lando alive."

He kissed her once more, before they parted.

//

Their hearts felt a little more heavier than usual on midnight that New Years Eve. Both standing surrounded by their favorite people, yet with the one they would wish to kiss being impossibly far away.

part 2

_________________________

@superlegend216

[guardian-of-fun-times]

Clark Kent’s broad hand rests firmly on your abdomen, his fingers pressing into your skin as if he’s trying to feel every inch of himself moving inside you. The contact grounds you, but it also drives him further into a frenzy. The way your body reacts beneath his touch only seems to ignite something deeper within him, unraveling the usual restraint he’s so known for.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place with a strength that feels both protective and possessive. Each thrust is deliberate yet increasingly erratic, as if he’s losing himself more with every passing moment. His breath is hot and ragged against your neck, the sound of his low, needy groans filling the room as his composure shatters entirely.

His voice trembles, raw and unfiltered, breaking through the haze of pleasure. “God, please—I need to be deeper inside you,” he chokes out, his tone laced with desperation and reverence. “Please, let me—please…”

His words are almost incoherent, a reflection of how completely consumed he is by the sensation of being with you, the connection between you both too overwhelming to hold back. His hand on your abdomen presses a little harder, as though anchoring himself in the moment, his desire to feel every ripple of your body heightening his own need until nothing else exists but this.

[shegatsby]

Hey,

may I request a Hannibal soulmate au one-shot, where he has to touch his soulmate in order to see the world in colour. One day at the FBI headquaters Jack invites an FBI agent and friend from another state, to help with the case. While she‘s walking towards Jack she accidentaly brushes Hannibal and their world explodes in colour? After that he goes all out courting her

A/N Hi! Kept you waiting I knowww but I was going through a shitty break up. He did me dirty and he has to pay. Anyways enjoy! Love you all, im gonna be more consistent i promise.

Y/N got a ticket to Baltimore Maryland in a rush because her long time friend, the head of the FBI’s Maryland branch had requested her insights and expertise on the matter. There was a killer on the loose and he had already taken 3 lives. Jack wasn’t a man who usually would ask for help so if it came to that it means that the situation was getting out of control and it also means that if they can’t solve it soon the citizens of Maryland would protest, it would look bad on the FBI. She was thinking about these things as she was gazing around, she was used to seeing things in black and white, that’s what she was born with anyways so she wasn’t complaining. She had a can drive her to her hotel which FBI provided. After freshening up she decided to get few cups of coffee to make a good impression. There was a possibility that she might spend weeks with them. She remembered a café shop she used to go to so she called another cab and gave the address.

The café was the same which gave her comfort, she ordered 5 cups and as she was waiting she looked around her, couples drinking coffee together and eating dessert, if only she could see them in colors… over the years she had relationships but none of them were her soulmate of course they were nice but just nice nothing more. She was losing hope inside, maybe her soulmate had died before she could meet him, deep down she envied people who were in a soulmate bond, of course she had married friends and she could see that they were sorry for her which made her hate and detest this shoulmate bond, she found it useless and a myth. It had been years she stopped searching and she was having casual hook ups, just to satisfy her needs.  

‘’Thank you.’��� She smiled kindly to the barista and got the cup carrier and left the place, thankfully the driver waited for her to take her to the FBI quarters.

As she entered the building she was greeted by Alana Bloom, she had met Alana years ago and they never lost contact, ‘’I feel sorry to meet in such circumstances Y/N, but I’m glad you’re here.’’ She looked so professional every time Y/N saw her and it amazed her, Alana was a kind of woman who was always put together, professional and formal. Y/N just smiled and nodded at her comment, ‘’Here, I brought coffee.’’ Alana got one of the cups and drank as they got on the elevator, ‘’Hmm delicious.’’ They were making small conversation as the elevator door opened to Jack’s floor. ‘’How is he?’’ Y/N asked before entering the room, ‘’Pissed off.’’ She simply put it, just as Y/N thought. Alana opened the door to Jack’s office, he was placed on his black chair, in a suit. He had his colleagues he had mentioned in the email, Will Graham and Doctor Hannibal Lecter. They both stood up as they saw Elena and Y/N, ‘’Hi guys.’’ She greeted them, ‘’I brought coffee.’’

The one with the glasses she assumed Will huffed, ‘’I needed that.’’ And got his cup, extended one to  Jack, Doctor Lecter was a bit standing far so Y/N approached, ‘’Here you go.’’ She extended the cup, ‘’Thank you so much Ms. Y/L/N, I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter. It is a pleasure finally meeting you in flesh.’’ His smile was small, she noticed how formal he was and how dominant. As he raised his hand to get the cup from her their fingers lightly brushed and with that Y/N noticed the color of his eyes, deep maroon, and his brown suit, her eyes went wide in that moment, she felt something warm on her stomach, how was this possible? She could see colors after years of seeing everything and everyone black and white. That tiny moment felt like it lasted for eternity, they all heard Jack’s cough and turned to him, ‘’Thank you so much for coming Y/N, we appreciate you made time for us. Please take a seat.’’ At Jack’s kind words she was only able to nod and sit next to Doctor Lecter, the man who made her see colors. It was all so strange to her, did he experience the same thing or he could already see because his soulmate was someone else? It wasn’t easy to  read his face because he was good at putting on a mask, especially at work.

Jack Crawford gave everyone some files which consisted of pictures, addresses and analytics of medical examining of the victims. He then went on, explaining the whole situation but Y/N’s mind was somewhere else, this was the first time she couldn’t focus on her job which she loved.

The meeting lasted for 45 minutes, however for Hannibal it felt like a thousand years had past him by, he was startled by the sudden exchange of colors between him and Y/N, he wondered if she also experienced the same thing. During the meeting he had opportunity of observing her up close, thanks to his knowledge of the case he could just ignore Jack and completely deduce this young woman. She was wearing black pants, black high heels and a dark red turtle neck, she had light make up on, her hair was tied in an elegant way, she was sitting straight, her posture was one of the things he had noticed, he was a licensed psychiatrist so he could make a profile when he wanted to. She was definitely an independent woman who had to deal with a lot of things alone and yet she also had a certain femininity to her.

‘’Thank you for your time, you can contact me or any of my staff if you have any questions.’’ Jack’s last words were heard by everyone.

Hannibal Lecter was a man of calculation and then action, somehow he had to figure out if she had the same experience, ‘’Miss Y/N?’’ he found himself call out for her as she was about to leave, ‘’Yes doctor?’’ Y/N wanted to keep it professional, other members turned to them when they say them communicate, ‘’May we speak in private?’’ to his request she only nodded and walked up to him on the corridor, ‘’Tonight I am hosting a dinner party. Maybe Jack had mentioned before, I would love for you to join us.’’

She knew his dinner parties, they were famous. ‘’I would love to.’’ She responded in a calm and kindly manner, ‘’May I have your phone number so that I can send you my home address?’’ he asked, testing the waters. ‘’Of course.’’ And they exchanged numbers, ‘’See you tonight.’’ She smiled and turned to leave, Hannibal found himself watching her leave with a strange feeling hammering on his chest, it felt like a warm liquid.

It was 8.10, most of his guests arrived but his maroon eyes were searching for a particular dove, she reminded him of a pure white dove, elegant yet fragile. ‘’Looking for someone?’’ his fellow colleague Dr. Frederick Chilton snapped Hannibal from his thoughts, ‘’Frederick, thank you for coming.’’ And they started to make small talk when he saw her.

She walked in holding her head high, a tight black dress surrounding her divine body, her red lips made him bit his bottom lip.

‘’Excuse me Frederick.’’ He said without even looking at him and his legs moved to her, ‘’Good evening.’’ He announced himself, ‘’Hello doctor.’’ She smiled warmly and he felt the same thing on his chest again, ‘’Excuse me but I have to say, you look ravishing on that dress.’’ And he saw the pink blush covering her cheeks, ‘’Thank you.’’ She looked at him up and down, noticing his three piece expensive suit. ‘’You don’t look so bad.’’ She replied which earned her a wide smile from him, ‘’Please, join us.’’ He guided her, his hand on the small of her back.

He gracefully introduced her to his colleagues, together they ate and drank, she liked the sparkling conversations she had, she found herself wanting to join more of his dinner parties. She had time to observe him in his home, being a host and she like dhow assertive and dominant he was. He was in control of everything and did it so calmly that she wanted to spend more time with him. Now that she could see the colors, tonight was something special for her not knowing he felt the same way.

When the guests left Y/N found herself being the only one who is sitting next to her and drinking an old wine, having a conversation of art and literature. They didn’t have the same taste because Hannibal loved baroque she admired impressionism but they could see from each others’ point of view. His hand was on her knee as they laughed together and she could feel her stomach turning in an exciting way, ‘’Oh, I do apologies, I wouldn’t want to cross the line.’’ He pulled his hand back but Y/N did something she shocked herself�� she held his hand and placed it back on her knee. Hannibal, in that moment he knew that she had the same feelings towards him.

‘’Be careful, once I hold.. I won’t let go.’’ Hannibal said with a dark tone, ‘’What if I don’t want you to let go.’’ She replied back. Looking under her eyes. He smiled wickedly and leaned in to give her a kiss.

Thank you for reading. :)

[hoomandoescosplay]

My Deer | Alastor x Reader Oneshot

As Alastor is focused on finding the perfect place for each ornament on our tree I sneak out of the living room. A smile grows on my face as I open our bedroom closet and grab a small box I hid in the back.

Taking off the lid I have to stop myself from giggling as I see the reindeer headband I bought a few weeks ago. After taking a moment to stare at them I pick them up and make my way out of the bedroom, making sure to hold the headband behind my back out of sight.

Alastor is still hard at work decorating the tree, making my smile widen. I grab the star for the top of the tree with my free hand as he begins to hum along to the song playing on the record player.

“Looks like the tree is ready for the final touch.” I say as I walk near him, shaking the star around gently. He turns around to look at me and smiles. "It does. Do you want to place it up there dear?"

I shake my head. “Can you do it? The tree we picked is a little too tall for me.” I say with a small laugh. "Of course. Let me." Alastor chuckles as he grabs the tree topper from me and begins to carefully place it atop the Christmas tree.

As he places the star I quickly pop the headband on his head. He immediately freezes, his hand hovering over the tree topper as he takes a moment to process what just happened.

He slowly turns his head back to look at me before using his hand to feel what was placed on his head. "What-?" He mumbled while coming to the realization that I placed antlers on him.

“You look so cute as a reindeer.” I laugh out. “I’m so glad I bought those.” He blushed a little in embarrassment as he brought his hand back down to his side but kept the headband on.

"I do not look cute." He mumbled in an attempt to argue. I cross my arms, huffing playfully. “And how would you know that if you haven’t looked at yourself.”

Alastor paused before sighing, realizing that I was right. "I don't have to look to know that these antlers look ridiculous on me." I walk closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Well I think you look great and your wife is always right.” I give him a large grin.

He rolled his eyes with a smile as he wrapped his arms around my waist. "You’re lucky I love you. These would be long gone if I didn’t." He then kisses me for a moment. “Why a reindeer headband? I’m curious.”

My eyes light up at the question, hoping he’d ask. “You always call me dear so now you're my dear. Get it?” I laugh slightly once more. “I also just love deers and reindeers are the festive version of them.”

Alastor stared at me for a moment before laughing a little at the pun. "I can't even say I'm surprised that was your reason." He chuckled before giving me a small smile.

"Well, I'll be your dear if that's what you want" He said in a humorous tone. My smile grows at his words as I pull him in for another kiss. His arms pull me a little closer as he kisses me back for a moment.

We soon part, and he pulls away with a warm smile on his face. "I love you, my dear." Alastor chuckled as he looked down at me. “I love you too Alastor.”

"Even when I look like a deer?" He laughs as I begin to laugh along with him. “Even when you look like a deer. A very cute deer.” Even though he rolled his eyes at the last part he couldn't hide the growing smile on his lips.

[just-b-wilde]

I got this crazy idea for a one-shot. I wonder what it would look like if Lila from the end of S2 with the suitcase was transported into my Survival story and saw her current self with Five there. 🤣😅

[nichenarratives]

Asymmetrical Atrocity

An Obscure Oneshot

Inspiration Art by Tracy J Butler

Mordecai Heller has done a lot of dastardly things in his line of work. He murdered the competition, tortured information from the mouths of gangsters and threw numerous bodies into both rivers surrounding Saint Louis, all at the behest of his savior turned employer. Atlas May is a discerning man of many accomplishments, one who knows when to conduct a business intervention to protect his investments, and when a massacre is the only way to send a message, which is what Mordecai manages alongside Viktor, his cohort.

The tom tuxedo appreciates swift, decisive action as much as the entrepreneur who owns the Lackadaisy Speakeasy. As such, he rarely finds grievance with expectation, carrying out every assignment with extreme prejudice and efficiency. Alongside Viktor's sheer strength and bulk, they form a formidable partnership that's seen the underground liquor spring swell in popularity, creating quite the business for the ever-ambitious Atlas May.

This is work Mordecai excels at, even prefers despite the moral ambiguity most would consider troubling. What he doesn't enjoy are the languid, supposedly quiet stretches of time between jobs, where he is forced to attend Mrs May's exhaustingly raucous parties. Sometimes, he can convince Atlas to let him work instead and buries his nose in the Little Daisy Cafe's books, changing expenses and stock to hide their underground extracurriculars.

But not tonight.

Atlas is out of town collecting his goddaughter - why anyone would want responsibility for a child that isn't even theirs is beyond Mordecai - and taken Viktor with him, meaning other than the band and Horatio, everyone to step foot inside the Lackadaisy that evening would be a potential threat to his wife's life. Atlas has specifically ordered his sharpshooter to stay close to her all evening, so there is no escaping it.

Tonight, he's Mitzi May's bodyguard.

While he never needs an excuse to dress properly, the tom had taken time to dress correctly for tonight; a black three piece suit over a crisp, white shirt, his trademark blood red tie pressed and carefully secured about his neck before it's tucked into his waistcoat and secured with a silver pin, a holster on each shoulder each containing loaded pistols (obscured under his jacket, for security), a knife in each garter beneath his slacks and of course, the piece de resistance - a pocket square matching his tie.

His wayward hair carefully smoothed down and pince-nez shined to perfection, he'd reported to Mrs May's rooms at precisely six, as requested. He at least feels at home dressed up - poor Viktor always looks ridiculously uncomfortable in a suit - even if he's dreading the actual party. He takes a moment to check his pocket square is properly placed before rapping his knuckles on her door. 

"Come in, door's open."

The reply is immediate, but Mordecai hesitates on the threshold, hand still curled and raised uselessly in the air. He assumed she'd be ready on time. As such, the possibility of entering her room was not considered. He hangs in purgatory for a long moment, trapped between refusal and potential repercussions should anything happen to her in the next few seconds, then sighs and pushes the door open.

"Good evening, Mrs May," he greets upon entry, closing the door behind him before surveying the room. Not one to keep a clean house but hardly a slob either, Mitzi's room is clean but in general disarray; her bed isn't made, the closet hangs open, and her vanity table is cluttered with numerous vials, pots, lipsticks and more he doesn't care to identify. "It's time to welcome your esteemed guests into the Lackadaisy Speakeasy."

Mitzi sits at her vanity, leaning close to finish her makeup. She doesn't look over when Mordecai walks in, but an eye does track his reflection. "Of course," she says, pausing to dab her finest brush into the liquid eyeliner bottle. Satisfied it's sufficiently soaked, she raises it back to her face and returns her gaze to the ceiling. "I'm just finishing up, sweetie. Take a seat if you like."

Pale lips curl into a grimace. "No, thank you," he refuses, as politely as he can manage. Mordecai has no idea when she last changed the sheets - he prefers to change his weekly, when possible - nor if she's ever dusted. He doesn't intend to find out by coating his pristine suit in dust. His tail flicks slightly in agitation as he stays by the door. "I'll wait here."

"Suit yourself," Mitzi responds, accustomed to the odd tom after years of his service. She once tried to loosen the man up by asking about his family, but that only seemed to make him more distant. Since then, she's left Mordecai to his own devices, allowing Atlas to handle his peculiarities. Her own interactions with the tuxedo cat are more for entertainment than friendship now. "Are you going to dance tonight? I've invited plenty of young ladies who'd love to-"

"I'd rather not be in attendance," Mordecai answers flatly, his chin lifted very slightly as he grimaces. Mitzi suppresses a sigh as she sits back and studies her eyeliner. Makeup is such a chore sometimes, but a necessity when you have an image to keep. Satisfied, she screws the cap back on the bottle and wipes the brush off on cotton wool, an ear turned to her bodyguard as he continues. "However, Mr May has requested my attendance, therefore it is unavoidable."

The dolled-up feline hums in agreement; Mordecai isn't an enthralling party guest, unless you wish to listen to a man describe the main differences between monocotyledons and dicotyledons in excruciating detail, all in a flat monotone. If she had a choice, she'd have kept Viktor. At least could be loosened up with a drink or ten. "Well, I'm ready. Why don't we take our delightful conversation down to the-"

Glancing at Mordecai's reflection, she sees his eyes narrow, and Mitzi releases a tired huff. "What?" She asks as she turns around to face the pedantic accountant. An ear twitch and a deeper frown is the only response she gets, to which Mitzi glares right back. Atlas might enjoy his nonverbal communication, but she finds it irritating. "Come on, spit it out, Mordecai. The guests aren't getting any younger."

"Your eyeliner," the tom responds flatly. Mrs May turns back to the mirror and scrutinizes her reflection closely, checking for drips and smudges, or misplaced drops on her otherwise flawless skin and outfit. She's practically going insane trying to find the problem when Mordecai finally finished speaking. "Is asymmetrical."

She almost groans. Almost. Why does the man have to be so peculiar? "Is that all?" She asks, waving off his concern to instead fluff up her hair some more, running fingers through the freshly washed waves. They slide effortlessly from root to tip, as perfect as Mitzi planned. "No one will care if it's a little crooked once they taste the liquor, sweetie. My darling Atlas secured the best from Canada in our last shipment. They won't be sober long enough to notice."

"I've noticed," Mordecai asserts, finally stepping away from the door to approach his employer's wife. "Respectfully, should I spend the majority of your precious event distracted by symmetrical sacrilege, my efficacy will be compromised."

Mitzi turns in her seat and regards her employee tiredly, only to shrug a moment later. "Eyeliner is a fine art, sweetie. It could take hours to get it entirely even on both sides. We can't leave our guests waiting that long, can we?" Thinking she has him dead to rights, the feline woman opens both eyes and smirks at her husband's golden boy confidently. "Unless you can fix them in five minutes, it'll have to do."

If she's expecting some kind of emotional reaction, Mitzi is sorely mistaken. Mordecai glances at the discarded brush on the vanity, then the uneven lines framing her upper lids. He's fairly sure a child could do better, but for once, the tom decides to keep that thought to himself and instead looks around the room. Locating a small chaise, he pulls it over to the vanity - much to Mitzi's dismay. "What are you-"

Turning over the seat cushion before sitting down to avoid the dust, he then raises his hands, palms open expectantly. "Your brush and face paint," he requests with his expression set seriously, flexing his fingers for emphasis. "And erase your attempts of both eyes entirely. I prefer a blank canvas."

For the next seven minutes, Mordecai leans towards the other feline, coaching her which eye to close, where to look and sometimes, informing minor technique corrections he suggests for the future. Mitzi stays quiet and complies with his requests, mostly from pure curiosity if he'll be able to paint eyeliner as cleanly as he aims a pistol. She's not met a man who can frame an eye right yet, so she might even forgive his arrogance if he does a good enough job. 

The few times she does look at Mordecai directly, his gaze is intense and focused, fine lips pressed into a finer line in the depths of focus. Mitzi isn't sure he's ever been so close before - even when she was having him tailored for fresh, tidy suits and had to measure his neck ad-hoc for the collar. It's honestly disconcerting and she quickly looks away.

"There," he finally states after what feels like a year. Entirely uninvited, Mordecai takes a gentle hold of her chin and turns her head from side to side to inspect his handiwork. Taken by surprise, Mitzi allows him to do so until he hums in approval and releases her, only to grimace at the powder residue now on his fingers. "I will never understand the need to slather your face in chemicals, but it is now symmetrical, at least. I'll wash my hands, then we can go."

Taking the brush and pot when they're offered, Mitzi turns to the mirror to inspect his work and is pleasantly surprised to find he's framed her eyes beautifully. He even added a small whisper of eyeliner off the lid and extended it slightly to her cheek, giving the impression of fuller lashes when her eyes are open. Mrs May blinks, tilting her head from side to side, marveling at how fine it is and indeed, how symmetrical the quiet sharpshooter has managed to make them.

"Let's get this over with," Mordecai mutters as he re-enters the room, adjusting the cufflinks beneath his suit jacket. His eyes land on Mitzi, once again staring in the mirror, and an irritated murr slips through pursed lips. "Mrs May, while I admire your devotion to setting an immaculate visage in your husband's absence, there is only so much superficial modification careful artistry can achieve. Let's go."

It was in that moment, as Mordecai stalked for the door to hold it open like the gentlemanly type he certainly had not just spoken like, Mitzi decided she'd convinced the girls that dancing with her reclusatory bodyguard was the pinnacle of high society.

Insert the ficus comic here…

[loopyarts]

Rated teen and up warning before you read this fanfic it contains lots of heavy subjects such as dysfunctional/toxic family relationships, child abuse, bullying, death, blood and violence.

It was written by Me and shouts out to my editor Sangerie they went above and beyond making this the best it can be they even partly co-written the fic mainly the Sanji scenes near the end and Sora POV.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52099930 also here’s a link to the fic on Archiveofourown.org if prefer to read it there.

With all that said enjoy your read of oneshot fic of Ichiji. :3

Sora's Pov

Cries of pain echoed from Sora and all throughout the walls of Germa castle as she went into labour hours ago. She pushed with all her might as the midwives scurried about to-and-fro to aid her. Through teary eyes, she heard the cries of her first baby boy ring out before sunrise.

Her breathing was slow and ragged as the midwives held him up so she could gaze upon his features. He was a quiet newborn. He blinked around the room, unfazed by his surroundings as his deep yet dull ocean-blues that reflected her own gazed back back down at her.

Tufts of vibrant red hair strands fell down and framed his little chubby face. She longed to reach out and hold him so badly, but a shot of pain surged through her body. Her second son was clearly itching to get out.

As she braced herself with a deep breath, she noticed her husband, Judge, enter the room and watched as he was handed their firstborn son by a midwife. His face beamed with pride and joy.

"Ichiji. His name shall be Ichiji, and all throughout the North Blue–no, all throughout the world will know of him one day!" he laughed proudly as their son remained expressionless in his arms, blinking at him with dull eyes.

Sora's heart grew heavy as she watched Judge hold him almost as if he were a doll. Her body strained through labour and her spirit did too as she lamented that she'd failed her firstborn son while tears pricked the corners of her eyes at the knowledge that her husband had robbed Ichiji of his heart.

She watched on bitterly as he coddled Ichiji tenderly in his arms, giving him a love that she'd never seen him give to their daughter before. She gnashed her teeth as the long grueling morning marched forward.

23 minutes passed and out popped "Niji" with a round pouting face, squinting eyes and arms flailing about blindly as he whined ever so slightly. Not long after Niji came "Sanji" into the world wailing out loudly as he was washed and then placed neatly beside his brothers. And then finally 40 minutes later her fourth and final son, "Yonji" was born. He seemed to be a curious one as his eyes fluttered across the room and he babbled softly.His eyes settled on her for a moment, but much to her dismay he quickly lost interest in her and looked away with a dull blue expression, too.

After the many hours of pain, she laid her head down into the pillow with a heavy sigh. Sweat rolled down the sides of her face and she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to hold her sons, but her eyes could barely stay open a second longer. Her vision narrowed, her body ached.

She will just have to coddle them tomorrow.

_______

Ichiji's Pov

Ichiji blinked as he stared up at the ceiling of the castle walls, he then felt one of his brothers latch onto him and snuggle him tightly. He turned his eyes to his left and gazed at his blonde brother who babbled and giggled as he cozied up further into Ichiji. He laid his head around Ichiji's stomach as he wrapped his arms around him in contentment.

Ichiji felt annoyed at first–he shifted around but stopped when he realised his brother wasn’t coming off.

He huffed to himself as he laid there hot, bothered and annoyed. Although after a while, it actually started to feel nice as his blonde haired brother clung to him. It felt warm, comfortable–safe. His eyelids grew heavy as he began drifting off to sleep along with him–cuddling back into him tightly.

_______

Ichiji was startled awake by voices. Quickly, he was being lifted up into the air with his blonde brother-along with his blue and green haired brothers carried in tow by another.

He'd wondered where they were going before they'd stopped in front of a woman with golden hair, basking in the beams of morning's light.

The strangers carrying them had then placed them into her warm embrace. She poured over them with her oceanic eyes and smiled fondly. "Hello my dears, I'm your mummy." she said in a soft honeyed voice.

Ichiji's dulled blues met her bright ones along with his brothers. They gazed up at her, taken in by her loving expression.

Her, now "mummy" began to comb through his red hair gently with her fingertips. Ichiji held a puzzled expression at her actions. He blinked at her, letting his head lay gently in her hand. He began to drift off while letting his brothers flail, giggle and babble to her while he relaxed in his mummy's embrace.

_______

At two years old, Ichiji walked about and around the playroom, it was playtime mother said (or "mummy" he called her sometimes–but father didn’t like that.) He would say to Mummy, "No son of mine would ever be calling their mother such a childish thing."

Ichiji found the toy box, it had dress-up stuff inside; it had probably belonged to his older sister, Reiju.

He dug inside the box and found a toy crown and placed it atop his head. He then found Sanji's blue blanket-or in Sanji's words–"blanky", he wrapped it around his shoulders and tied a knot to make a cape. Sanji wouldn’t mind if he borrows his blanky for just a little bit, Ichiji thought cheekily.

He set off to find mummy to show off his new kingly look to her, his little shoes pitter-pattered along the stone castle hallways towards his mother’s bedroom.

“Mummy!” called Ichiji in a happy yet deadpan-sounding tone as he entered the room to see that his mummy was reading a book cuddled up with Sanji whose eyes sparkled in awe as he was read to. Ichiji then stood proudly puffing up his chest attempting a smirk as best he could on his mostly static face.

“Look Mummy, I’m king now! Look at my majestic crown and cape!” he twirled a little as his mother giggled at him while Sanji looked a bit annoyed as he realised that the cape Ichiji was wearing was actually his blue blanket.

“Oh I see, aren’t you a handsome king” his mummy chuckled bookmarking Sanji's book and placing it on her lap as Sanji walked up to Ichiji with puffed cheeks.

“Ichiji, why do you have my blanky?” His younger brother asked, tilting his head with a pout yet curious expression on his face.

“It’s not a blanket Sanji, it’s a cape and I’m only borrowing for a short while, little brother.” Ichiji taunted.

“You’re a big meanie!” Sanji whined as he pounced on his eldest twin and knocked the toy crown off Ichiji's head to which the redhead responded by playfully fighting back. The pair tumbled about, giggles and laughter could be heard but mostly coming from Sanji. Ichiji grinned as he easily pinned Sanji down.

“I win” he said flatly yet filled with pride.

“No fair, you always win!” screamed Sanji as he tried to get Ichiji off of him. Ichiji looked down blankly and watched as Sanji struggled, he huffed and loosened his hold on his younger brother.

In the next moment, to his surprise–he'd found himself toppled to the floor and pinned down by Sanji instead, his tears had been a sly trick!

Sanji beamed at him proudly, "I-I did it?" he said, dumbfounded. It honestly amused Ichiji, he was always so dramatic over the simplest of things. Then again, Niji and Yonji both had similar reactions when he'd let them win, too. When Niji won, he'd grin cockily and taunt him with a "Ha! Who's the little brother now?" While Yonji would loudly and playfully cheer at his own victory.

Ichiji stayed on the ground as Sanji attempted to tickle him to no avail.

Just then, he heard his mother’s voice call out to them, saying how messy they had gotten from play-fighting and that she'd help tidy them up. Ichiji noticed then how messy his hair was, it was all fluffed out of place.

He walked up to the end of his mother's bed and promptly sat down. He watched idly as she first brushed Sanji's hair waiting for his turn.

Ichiji never had Mummy brush his hair before, it was usually the maids and servants that did that. Then again, rarely has it ever gotten dirty or messy unless he was training. He was tidiest out of all of his brothers, even Reiju in some rare cases.

As his Mother finished brushing Sanji's hair, she looked at him with a smile and asked “Would you like me to brush your hair too, Ichiji?” He nodded yes to his mummy and crawled on over to her side, sitting where Sanji was, while Sanji took his spot placing himself at the end of mummy’s bed.

His Mummy hummed as she gently brushed through his messy red hair. It felt nice. He peeked up at his mummy, fidgeting his fingers slightly.

She continued to brush his hair humming her tune. “You know, Ichiji...you have such soft hair just like your mummy and your big sister. It makes it much easier to brush–” she chuckled a bit and then continued, “unlike your brothers, who have your father’s much thicker hair.” Ichiji dully blinked at his mother as something similar to a genuine small smile crept onto his face. He wondered why mummy broke down into tears and pulled him into her embrace, holding him tightly at the sight of his smile. He was confused–"Mummy and Sanji are so strange", he thought.

_______

At four years old, Ichiji was honestly still so confused by Sanji. Why was he always slacking off and playing with rodents? It was not playtime, it was training time. He managed to drag Sanji back, although he was clearly not happy about it. He shivered at the mere sight of Ichiji and the redhead didn’t understand why. He was just doing what was necessary to make sure Sanji got back in line. Why did he insist on defying father if he knew it would make him angry?

_______

After the training, they all played in the garden with mummy. It was one of rare times she was allowed out of her room given her sickly condition. Niji was running around chasing Sanji, who hopped over Yonji causing Niji to slam into him.

Ichiji shook his head, his younger brothers were all such fools in their own way. Sanji cried, running behind their mother–or "mummy" why does he still call her that, anyway?

He stared down at the grass with his head propped up by his hands as his dull eyes locked onto a butterfly. He didn’t understand why he fixed his stare on the insect, but the yellow and gold wings reminded him of mother. The butterfly took off however, the moment Ichiji was suddenly pushed onto his stomach from behind. He was now covered in dirt, blades of grass and scattered petals from the flower patch below him.

“Gotcha, Ichi!” laughed Niji, lying on top of him covered in dirt with leaves sticking out of that blue hair of his. Ichiji huffed in annoyance as he hopped up, knocking Niji off of him in the process. He glanced down at the sight of himself–he hated being dirty. He shot an icey cold glare at Niji causing his younger brother to flinch and turn on his heels rushing away to join Yonji who was kicking a ball around with Reiju in the distance.

He didn’t understand Niji and Yonji sometimes and how they could run around like idiots–seemingly not having a care in the world about getting dirty or keeping up appearances.

Ichiji sighed as he walked over to his mummy who was resting with Sanji in the shade,who held his favorite book close to his chest as laid his head next to mummy's side. His annoyance rose at the sight of them together, "why does Sanji get her attention all of the time?" Ichiji thought as he approached his mother and tugged at her dress gently.

"Oh, Ichiji! What is it sweetheart?” asked his Mummy. His deep dull blues looked up into her glistening ones as he pointed at his untidy hair covered in dirt and fauna and then pointed over to his mother's brush quietly.

“Ohh, I see...so you want me to brush your hair and tidy it up a bit–is that right?” she smiled and patted her lap, signaling Ichiji to sit down there. He propped himself up and sat quietly in his mother’s lap. She began plucking the petals and grass out of his fluffy red hair, treating him delicately.

She dusted him off and then began brushing through his red locks. He relaxed and closed his eyes as she began to hum a familiar tune while running her brush and warm hands through his hair gently.

His siblings chattered off in the background–a cool salty breeze blew by. He liked moments like these between just him and her.

Reiju skipped over a rope gleefully as it was held by Niji and Yonji at opposite ends, swinging it over and under in sync. Sanji sat at his and mummy's side reading his favourite book–"The All Blue" as he recalled. The story was a fairy tale but for some reason, Sanji believed it was real.

Ichiji closed his eyes and listened to his mother humming away with cheer in her voice as birds flew overhead and his siblings giggled and laughed happily in the distance .

It would have been nice if good moments like those lasted forever–but good things never do.

In fact, he only saw his mother again 4 more times after that.

_______

It was so strange, lately he barely had time to think. Most days were spent training day in and day out like clockwork. Sanji was getting on his nerves as he was always falling behind–he couldn't even take down a simple foot soldier. Ichiji thought it was no wonder that he got his ass handed to him by Niji and Yonji so often.

“Why is he so weak?” he muttered to himself in a hushed tone. Weren't they born from the same womb? They'd shared a crib for the first few weeks of their lives and practically did almost everything together...yet only he was so different, why?

Just then, he heard a sharp crash followed by someone wailing. He watched as Sanji burst out of a room and ran past him in tears. He then saw their father walk out shortly after, “Pay no mind to that failure, he’ll get over it.” was all his father said as he continued to walk away.

Ichiji curiously made his way into the room shortly after to inspect the scene. He then noticed the broken window with splashes of food on it. He pushed up a chair and hopped atop it to look down only to see a spot of red below and what looked to be a dead rodent surrounded by shards of what once was a plate and a discarded meal scattered about.

"Is this really what he was crying on about?" Ichiji sighed. How could he cry for lowly vermin?

He hopped down from the chair and briskly made his way back to the training grounds so as to not keep his father waiting.

_______

Ichiji never sees his mother much anymore. Too busy with training and studying, then again–when has he had any free time at all in this past year?

Father boasted how proud he was of him and that he wanted to push him harder, saying it would help him become a better king when he’s older. So Father doubled his training and studying for this year.

Ichiji's body felt hot for some reason–he stayed up late last night because those were the only hours he had time to himself these days to relax. He liked how quiet it was whenever he went out in the garden at night to stargaze. Sometimes he’d bring a book as well to read under the glow of his lantern.

Suddenly he began to cough, he blinked in confusion. Why was he coughing so much? He stroked his throat as it grew sore. He continued to walk through the castle hallways and he noticed how the maids looked at him with pity in their eyes as he kept coughing and coughing. He heard them whispering from under their breaths–“Poor dear” said one.

“Maybe if it were Prince Sanji, I would feel more pity.” scoffed another.

“But, I thought those monsters couldn’t get sick?" said the third in a confused tone.

Despite the servants' attempted whispers, Ichiji had heard it all. He coughed profusely once again and carried on with a groan. This was starting to get on his nerves. He made his way to the library and sat down with materials to study. When he tried to start taking notes, his hand began to shake. He attempted to steady it but it wouldn't obey and the ink from his quill fell to the page leaving wobbly indecipherable scribbles in the place of words.

This shocked the young prince. He threw the pen aside and slammed the book closed in frustration. “Ahh! What in the world's wrong with me today!?” Ichiji shouted in a monotone voice–even his screams of anger and frustration were quieter than all of his brothers.

He then lifted his face up from the table, his vision was getting a little fuzzy. He shook his head to clear it up and coughed with a wheeze into his hand. He then thought of mother’s room–almost by instinct, he started to rush over to the infirmary where his mother's room was while coughing all the way there.

As soon as Ichiji entered her room, his mother sat up with surprise at his sudden arrival. "Ichiji-!" his mother said with cheer "Oh, it's been so long since I've seen you last! How have you been, my dear?" He made his way over to her, "Mother.." he said flat and breathlessly as he climbed up into her bed and seeped down by her side, looking up at her with hazy eyes.

Her skin had grown so pale since the last time he'd last seen her. She looked almost transparent, like a ghost. Her once golden hair now carried only a drop of the vibrant glow it once had.

He talked to her about his training and how he's been working very hard. She nodded along, smiling softly at him–until he mentioned how his father had been giving him extra special training. This seemed to have upset his mother after hearing that.

As the conversation carried on, his coughing fit flared back up again and his mother bounced up with great attention and worry. She placed the back of her chilly hand to his forehead, "Ichiji, you're burning up-!" she said with great worry in her tone. He began to feel faint and the room spun more as his coughing continued in his mother's arms. She held him closer and whispered gently, "Rest now, Ichiji. Don't worry, mummy will take care of you."

There was that word again, "mummy".

His eyes began to grow heavy almost as soon as he'd gotten permission to rest. He snuggled further into the warmth of her embrace. A strange rhythm in her chest became his lullaby as he drifted off to sleep.

_______

As he slept on, he thought he'd heard yelling, although it was faint and everything sounded muffled as if it had been underwater.

It sounded like...mother and father? Were they yelling at each other? His breath rushed a bit and then halted more as the voices drew near him and became clearer.

"How could you!? He's only 7 years old, Judge!"

"I will do whatever I must to ensure that he reaches the height of his potential! You need to stop treating them as if they were average children, Sora!"

A pained scoff fell out of her, "Are you truly the man that I married? What happened to the man that swore he'd do anything for his family–? Or has your pride and ambition to bring back the 'glory days' of Germa turned you into a blind and heartless fool!?"

"Sora–why can't you see that I'm building a future for us all? Ichiji is to be the future king of Germa, failure is not an option! He must be strong, he must be the best of the best! I must make sure that he is perfect! Together we will retake the North Blu–"

A stifled sob came from her, cutting him short as she coldly turned her back to him and faced towards the still and silent Ichiji wrapped up in her bed, "You've taken enough, haven't you? You've taken his heart, his freedom, his will–why can't you see...? There's nothing left to take anymore."

Loud footsteps plodded away followed by the sound of a heavy door closing behind him. A moment of silence hung in the air before his mother sat down softly beside him and stroked his hair ever so gently. He then felt warm wet droplets rain down over his cheeks followed by an embrace with quiet sobs at his side.

His eyes remained too heavy to open them and his ears rang louder. Why was she crying? And what did they mean by all of that before? His mind became fuzzy again as he drifted back off into a deep sleep.

_______

When he woke up, it was already late at night. He turned his head to see he was laying by his mother's side as she held him close. He still felt dizzy, but he laid in her embrace looking up. Tear stains were dried on her cheeks. Why did she cry to this extent? Was it because of him?

Ichiji yawned and cuddled in closer to his mother and then he heard something in her chest–the same rhythm as earlier, "ba-thump, ba-thump" it went. How strange...was this part of her illness? And yet...the sound was nice. He slipped away into sleep just like that.

_______

In the morning, his mum's personal maid ("Époni", as he recalled) came into her room and halted with a horrified expression at the sight of the two. She wasted no time in hurrying up to the redhead to collect him away from his Mummy. In a panicked voice she pulled him away explaining that if he stayed with his mother, he could potentially give the queen his fever and rapidly deteriorate her health further. Ichiji looked back and saw the sadness in his mother's eyes as he was guided away from her side.

He spent the next few days bedridden and was forced to lay there with nothing to do, much to his annoyance. He'd run his hand across his red satin sheets out of sheer boredom. Worst of all, Niji and Yonji would stop by only to just taunt him for getting sick. In the redhead's mind, he hoped they'd get sick as well so he could get back at them.

"Just you wait, Niji, Yonji...!" the eldest had a devilish plan brewing indeed. Once he was fully recovered, they were in for a nasty surprise.

_______

Ichiji was very pleased indeed as he heard from the maids and staff within the castle chattering on about how Prince Niji and Yonji were now also bedridden by a sick bug caused by mysterious food poisoning.

He giggled to himself in a tone so flat that it was almost creepy. His little prank had worked. He slipped into the kitchen the night before and spiked their soup with a few special ingredients of his own–a slightly mouldy turnip, some dirt and a slug for each of them. He was surprised they didn’t notice the odd taste as they consumed it all.

“They’re so stupid!” he laughed monotonously once more as he headed to the training grounds. Now they have to miss a few days of training too, he thought snidely to himself. Strangely enough though, his father seemed to have lightened up on his training schedule. Instead of double the work; it was just the same as his sister and brothers.

However, his father set a cold gaze upon him today and Ichiji didn't like it. He tried to shake off his father's piercing stare and focus on his training.

Sanji still fell behind the same as ever, but what else was new? Meanwhile Reiju nearly outran the hotblooded prince himself that day on the running course.

Almost beating him in a race?! He would not stand for that. He wasn't going to let Reiju of all people get the satisfaction of beating him on the track, that'd be shameful! He'd just have to work even harder from now on.

_______

After training he saw Sanji heading into their mother’s room. He peeked inside to see them laughing together. Ichiji blinked between the two, why are they laughing? There is nothing to laugh about. Ichiji's mouth felt dry. Mother only ever smiles like that for him. What in the world made Sanji so special? Sanji's just a good for nothing failure; meanwhile Ichiji himself is far from it.

He stopped peeking from around the corner and continued walking down the hall, remaining vexed by his swirling thoughts.

It's not fair.

"...it's not fair!!" he roared out in anger, slamming his fist into the wall causing it to shake by the force of the blow. The wall cracked and left behind a crater the size of his fist as he pulled it away. What is this fury that brews inside him, making his body tremble and his teeth grind within his mouth?

Why couldn't he make his mother smile like Sanji can?

_______

Throughout the week, he continued to see Sanji; he couldn’t stand him at this point. Why is he always trying to cook mother a meal? He should be training! He started to hate mother as well–she only ever pays attention to Reiju and Sanji nowadays, it’s not fair! All she ever gives him is a look of pity and sadness. Then again, she always loved Sanji more. He hated it so much-! Niji's jealousy was far greater than his, though–to the point that he harassed Sanji every chance he got or whenever saw him exit mother’s room.

But on the last day of that week, something in Ichiji snapped and he made a mistake he'd regret for the rest of his life.

"I hate you!", Ichiji said with enough venom that it pierced through his normal dull tone.

He towered over the cowering Sanji as he cried against the side of his mother's bed. Ichiji continued hurling insult after insult his way, rubbing salt in his wounds further.

"I sometimes wish you were dead, so I no longer have to see your fa–" he was cut off abruptly by the impact of his mother's frail hand meeting the side of his face.

Her weak body trembled as she struggled to remain standing upright. She shot daggers out of her eyes at Ichiji–a sight he'd never seen from his mother before.

"Don't you EVER say that to your brother again-do you hear me, Ichiji!?" she yelled with tears dousing her fiery eyes as she shielded Sanji from him with her body.

Ah, he'd made her cry again…

A moment passed as she made Sanji leave the room saying she'd like to have a word alone with Ichiji. He stood there frozen in place with a stoney expression as Sanji nodded quietly and turned away from Ichiji and their mother to exit the room. The door clicked behind him and then it was just Ichiji and mother.

As she approached him, his breath grew heavier and hitched in his throat when his eyes met her cold gaze. It wasn't the first time he'd been looked at this way by someone, but this time it felt different.

His legs began to buckle and his marked cheek stung the more she yelled at him and cried. But it was when her voice fell and she said softly "I'm so sorry my love, I've failed you-" something in the normally quiet Ichiji just snapped like it never had before as he yelled at the top of his lungs, "I hate you! I hate you, mother!! You're a liar–!" He closed his eyes tightly, feeling his whole body tremble with rage, "You've never loved me or Niji or Yonji the same way you love Sanji, so don't you lie to me!!" he finished huffing and panting and then suddenly he felt something wet–something warm slide down his cheeks.

His mother looked on in shock as her hand covered her mouth. "I-Ichiji, I'm-" her voice trembled as she hesitantly reached out.

Ichiji didn't understand this unfamiliar feeling that was overcoming him but his mind went blank and he turned on his heels bursting out of the room fleeing the scene as his mother fell to the floor crying out to him begging him to come back. Her voice grew smaller and more faint the further he ran through the corridors.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" her voice still lingered and rang in his ears even though he could not hear her anymore.

He ran into his room and threw himself onto his bed, burying himself deeper into it. He couldn't stop the hot unpleasant wetness from flowing out of his eyes.

_______

After some time had passed, Ichiji lifted his head from his pillow which was now dampened by the mysterious liquid from his eyes. He got up to look in the mirror and inspect his face–his eyes were puffy and red, did that water really come from there?

He walked over to his window–it was sunset now and orange dyed the sky in its vibrant hue. The sun's rays bounced off Ichiji's scarlet red hair as it dipped down slowly behind Germa's high walls. He'd calmed down now, sitting by the window transfixed on the far off horizon. He felt so confused. He was supposed to be "perfect" but then why did he-? His thoughts drifted back to his mother and his chest grew heavy. He just couldn't understand.

"I have to go see her again–" Ichiji made up his mind, standing up with determination. He made his way over to the door but then paused for a moment, deciding to pick up his crimson hair brush on his way out–he didn't know why but he felt he needed it.

When he arrived at her door he hesitantly peeked inside her room. And there he saw her sitting up in her bed with glassy and distant eyes facing the window as she watched some birds fly by.

Slowly, he stepped into her room and climbed up onto her bed, making his way to her side. He then took his brush in hand and began to brush her hair remembering the times she used to brush his. He thought that maybe this will make his mother–mummy happy?

His mum took notice of him as he remained fixated on brushing her hair. He went through her soft golden locks steadily bit by bit. And then he felt something gliding through his own hair–his mum reached back behind his head with her own brush and faced towards him brushing his hair in return. She gave him a small genuine smile with cheerful eyes as they held a peaceful silence between the two of them brushing each other's hair back and forth for a while.

The silence broke however when his mother spoke up, "Is this your way of apologising to me, Ichiji?" she inquired. He looked up at her blankly and tilted his head, he was a little confused–was this really some type of apology? He wondered.

"I forgot–you've never been a big talker, you've always been such a quiet boy.." she continued to brush his fringe, "and yet you're a good listener aren't you–you always listen to what Niji and Yonji have to say." Ichiji nodded along–but in the back of his mind he thought about the real reason why he didn't talk much. It wasn't because he didn't want to but because he found speaking to be so tiresome.

Sometimes Niji would speak for him and he liked that. It made his life so much easier when his loudmouth brother did all the talking–although he and Niji still did butt heads every now and then.

With Yonji, he loves attention and enjoys prattling on about things that interest him. Right now it's bread. Ugh seriously, why bread of all things...? But even still, it's nice that he talks on and on–filling the air so he didn't have to.

Ichiji remained quiet, continuing brushing his mum's hair as he lingered a little longer on the thoughts of his brothers.

"Mhm, maybe..." he muttered back to her. His hand stopped brushing and gently lowered a bit as he closed his eyes while his mother continued on brushing his. She made her way through the rest of his cowlicks and smoothed them out one by one as the brush caught the loose strands in its grasp. His mind drifted away. He wondered why she was even brushing his hair–wasn't she still mad at him? This thought made his chest feel weighted again...but maybe–maybe mother would know?

"Mother...my chest hurts, am I ill again?" he said, pointing to the side of his chest where the ache was.

His mother then placed her hand at the spot where he pointed and said to him, "That is your heart, Ichiji. Sometimes when something is bothering us, our hearts react to how we're feeling." She closed her eyes and lowered her head, resting it against his chest, "And having a heart is, well–it's what makes someone human." his heart pinched at her words that were laced with a hint of pain.

She sighed and held him all the tighter, "I'm so sorry, Ichiji...I wish I had known sooner."

The redheaded prince didn't understand, why was his mother apologising to him? What did she mean by she "wished she knew sooner"? He didn't know the answer–but he reached out and started to pat his mother's head and then he wrapped his arms around her gently.

They stayed in each other's embrace for what felt like hours (his internal clock told him it had only been 20 minutes, though.) He looked up outside her window and saw that it had already become dusk. He pulled away steadily from her, "Mother, it's getting late. I should be getting back to my room now." he felt his frail mother tighten her grip on him and she whispered weakly with glassy eyes, "Ichiji, sweetie, can't you stay just a little bit longer?" Ichiji didn't know what to think of her request...no–it was more like a desperate plea for him to stay.

He could easily pull away and break her hold on him if he wanted to–yet seeing her tired eyes made him ache for some reason. He then nodded with an affirming "mhm..." and leaned back into her. Despite her ghostly appearance, she was still just as warm as he'd remembered. She pulled him down to rest with her and began to hum a nostalgic tune as her silken fingertips petted him softly. He couldn't see his mother's expression, but he could tell she was happy.

_______

Sunlight filtered through the window and into his heavy lidded eyes causing him to groan. He raised himself up and blinked idly around for a moment before looking down towards his mother.

"Good morning, mo–" he stopped in his tracks. She wasn't moving. He then reached out and held his hand to her face–ice cold to the touch. Her lips held a soft smile with ruby red stains that painterly poured down her chin and pooled into the ridges of her sunken neck. "M-mummy-?" her eyes once bright like ocean mornings were now dull and cloudy like rainy skies. Lifeless. He began to shiver and in a desperate attempt, he grabbed his hairbrush and began to brush her faded hair hoping it would become the vibrant gold it once was again.

When it didn't work, he halted and the brush slipped from his hand. He couldn't move, he couldn't feel anything. He stared at her in shock until he heard a piercing scream come from the doorway, "Ahh! Prince Ichiji!! What on earth are you doing!? What have you done to the queen!?" yelled his mother's maid, Époni as she gasped in fright with mother's morning meal smashing to the floor.

He didn't understand her insinuation at first but then he looked down to his hands and shirt and saw that they were stained with the same ruby red colour that trickled from his mother's lips. He realised then what she thought he had done.

No–he didn't do it! He didn't do that to her-!

The terrified maid scowled at him with a fierce glare and at the sight of her weighty judgment, his eyes became wet again–the warm liquid poured down his cheeks and his vision blurred. Seeing this, the maid's expression softened and her anger melted away. In a flash she rushed over to him and picked him up with a hug, "Ohh, don't cry you poor dear!" startled by the abrupt shift in mood, Ichiji watched as the maid fell into tears along with him for some reason.

"I'm going to miss her, too!" she sobbed.

“Miss her"...is that why he's crying?

He froze as she cried into him and found himself wondering how she could go from being terrified of him to coddling him? She was really a strange woman indeed.

_______

Nobody found out he was in mother's room that day and yet rumors and whispers still scurried throughout the halls that the queen had been murdered by one of her devil sons.

He'd pass by and hear the murmurs thinking that the servants honestly had way too much free time if they could spin up that huge web of lies in such a short span of time.

It was complete and utter rubbish and yet he felt offended, but why?

_______

Mother's death was strange. Being at her funeral was strange. He stood in deep thought recalling how his mother's eyes were so cold and yet she still had a warm smile on her face even in death. He just couldn’t get that image of her out of his mind. He looked over to his other siblings–his older sister Reiju and younger brother Sanji were crying while his other younger brothers Niji and Yonji looked confused and bored. Ichiji felt nothing, yet something weighed on him; he never got to apologise to his mother did he? Not that it matters anymore...she was dead now and nothing will ever change that.

_______

In the evening, Ichiji laid down on his stomach in his bed with a book and started reading. His expression was as stoic and stoney as ever. He found himself sighing as loose strands of hair fell into view in front of his face. Just then, he heard someone come into his room but he couldn't be bothered to see who it was and so he kept on reading.

Much to his own surprise, he'd picked a fairy tale book today. One that he and mother used to read together–"Iron Hans" it was called. Everytime he reads the tale, he feels a sense of karma to it. Despite it being make-believe and a folktale, he found it rather endearing.

“He raised himself up quickly but the whole of the hair of his head was already golden and shone like the su-” Ichiji paused his reading–someone was behind him.

He peered over his shoulder to see who the trespasser was, only to find Sanji!? Whose face was still stained wet with tears from earlier that day and in his hand was...his crimson hair brush?

"Sanji-" Ichiji said with some surprise, colouring his tone at the sight of his younger brother. It wasn't long before Sanji piped up, "I-I'm sorry, Ichiji...I should have told you I was here." he began to fidget where he stood, "It's just that...I remembered how much you loved it when mummy brushed your hair before, so I–"

'God...', Ichiji thought when he heard the word "mummy" fall out from Sanji's mouth. And of course it was Sanji of all people that would say such a strange thing. He wanted to brush his hair just because mother used to? Why? It wasn't even particularly untidy at the moment and besides, if he wanted to brush it; he could just do it himself for crying out loud. There was no need for all of this.

“I don’t need you to brush my hair, you failure. I can do it by myself.” Ichiji glared at his smaller brother and shot upwards to snatch his brush back from him.

“And even if I wanted my hair to be brushed by another–it would be an insult to have it done by the likes of you, so scram!" his blonde brother broke into a sob at his words and began to yell back at him in anger. This surprised Ichiji as Sanji was normally so meek in his presence. It was rare for Sanji to even talk back to him at all. He looked down at his younger brother watching his wet eyes simmering with a roaring fire behind them–he hadn't heard a word he said but his eyes told him all the same.

"I was only trying to help you, Ichiji–you big jerk-!" Sanji yelled with eyes falling to the floor, "Reiju was right about you and the others–" he continued with fists shaking, "you really are just heartless monsters!" he shouted one last time before turning his back and running off, leaving the room cold again.

A "monster"? Is that what he was?

He didn't cry at the funeral, but his chest felt heavy again at Sanji's biting words. He'd made Sanji cry again...although, that wasn't particularly rare. But Ichiji thought it felt different this time as he grabbed his chest and quietly hunched down with wet eyes of his own.

_______

Not long after the death of their mother–their father announced that Sanji had died to all of Germa. But Ichiji knew better than to take his father at his word. He'd later spotted a servant sneaking off carrying a tray with covered food down into the dungeon depths and discovered the real truth behind the "death" of Sanji. He'd been locked up and caged like an animal, placed in an iron mask that hid his face from view.

"If Sanji had just done what he was told..." Ichiji thought, "then none of this would have happened."

The brother's traveled down into the depths to continue their harassment of Sanji once they learned the truth of his whereabouts.

They found that he was cooking even in the depths of the dirty grimey dungeon.

A familiar scene played out once more where he'd found himself in front of Sanji as he'd just baked a cake with a cream and strawberry topping. Ichiji snatched it from his hand just as he did before–and all the same, Sanji sprang at him with a punch that reverberated a loud clang echoing in the depths.

Ichiji could hardly believe it–after all this time, Sanji was still so terribly weak. Ichiji's body shook with fury and his vision turned red as he lunged forward with a growl, taking Sanji down and pinning him to the floor.

His chest erupted with a burning heat as he began to wail on the younger for displaying such a pathetic sight. The echoes of the other two laughing bounced off the walls and rang throughout their ears as he kept beating down further and further.

''You're an embarrassment–you embarrass even me!" just the sight of him made his blood boil, he was the source of his rage–that's right, it was him! It was all his fault!! All of his pain was because of Sanji, wasn't it? It was always him from the very start!

Catharsis overcame him as his fist became bloodied. He released his rage as Sanji sobbed beneath him, attempting to claw back and begging him to stop–crying out how it hurts. But he wasn't going to fall for his tears again, not this time.

When Ichiji finally stopped, he rose up and pulled away from the bruised and battered Sanji. He stood up and over him and felt that Sanji had become even smaller than before. Ichiji looked down at the ruby red dripping from his fists and he left without a word, leaving Niji and Yonji to their own devices.

As he walked away, he crunched some remaining shards of the shattered plate that once carried the cake beneath the heel of his boot.

It was their 8th birthday today and he felt nothing. He only tasted bitterness in his mouth.

He brought his bloodied hand to his face and stroked his cheek where Sanji had landed the blow. There wasn't even a bruise there. Honestly, he was pathetic beyond all measure. Why would he ever expect any different?

Sanji was Sanji. A failure will always be a failure.

_______

Sanji had gone off and ran away not long after the incident in the dungeon. Despite him leaving, not much had changed between those that remained. Years began passing by like clockwork for Ichiji as every day settled in a fixed routine. The boy was becoming a man quickly as he remained ever static and cold.

He laid on the experiment table often as the scientists dug into his body, refining him into an even more perfect soldier. Scalpels and needles poking and prodding him became something normal that he'd bear with a dull and never changing expression. One scientist however was rather strange, often reaching out and remarking about the color and softness of his hair calling it "pretty". But what use does that spoken sentiment hold to a weapon? What a waste of breath.

_______

At 12 years old, he was sent on his first mission with Reiju tagging along to teach him how things were done and show him the ropes. Most of the opponents were easily mowed down by Ichiji.

On the battlefield he was called many things–freak of nature, devil, monster.

The rain started to fall heavy that day as blood ran from the corpses littering the streets with it. His hair flattened in the rain as he walked through the broken roads that reeked of sulfur, dampened smoke and iron. He still felt nothing as he looked on at the decay around him. But then his chest began to twinge and his heartbeat fell as he took it all in. He still couldn't understand why.

"Their lives were all so meaningless" he thought–but then again, so was his.

Even if he died, he wouldn't care. He was made to not fear death–he cannot fear it. Death was just another worthless word to him, no different than "pretty".

Ichiji may have been a child but he wasn't naive in knowing that death came for all. The world is cold and humans are ugly–he couldn't change this fact.

He stopped and faced his head towards the sky, taking in the sound of the rain crashing down from up above him. It carried bloody water his way, creating small rivers that branched off as it hit his boots.

At least the rain sounded peaceful.

_______

On one of his missions at age 14 and a half, the young prince happened upon a lost kitten who seemed to have been left behind without its mother–wandering in search of her. Ichiji made up his mind to promptly put the small stray out of its misery and end its life as he knew it wasn't long for this world anyway all on its own. He reached out with cold and malicious intent only to feel his heart thump in his chest and skip a beat when the kitten buried its round face into his hand and mewled happily in the act of doing so.

Against the "emotionless" young prince's better judgment, he picked up the lost kitten and carried it back to Germa in his arms. He didn't know how his father would react, but luckily his father was too busy making preparations for an upcoming political meeting he, Ichiji and his siblings were to attend. It was of such high importance that his father paid little mind to the new creature now rummaging within the castle, let alone the detail of who had brought it in.

Ichiji had named her "Nyasha". At first, he wasn't quite sure how to treat her. He'd either hold her wrong or be "too rough" with her as the observing servants would remark in hushed voices within an earshot distance from him.

He had no idea what she wanted when she circled him with a barrage of meows or how to tend to her.

Funnily enough, it was seemingly the most timid servant that approached him and offered the suggestion that petting her gently would please her. The servant then crouched down and began to rub the side of Nyasha's chin with her fingers as an example.

"Gently"? Who am I, Sanji? Ichiji thought to himself with almost a scoff at the notion. But low and behold, Nyasha began to purr away in delight. After a moment, the servant removed her hand from the kitten, "Now you give it a try, Prince Ichiji." she said stepping up and back, giving the two space "Nya would enjoy it even more if it were you. She loves you most, after all."

Ichiji paused for a moment to fully absorb her words, realising just then that the woman that stood before him had actually been quite brave indeed. He then turned his head to Nyasha and began to quietly imitate what he'd been shown. Nyasha looked up at him with eyes big and adoring, she purred in contentment, blinking them slowly at him.

"Love" huh? Was that what this was?

_______

In the evenings, Ichiji would give the ever-growing Nyasha all of the attention she deserved. She'd lay with him and stargaze in the fresh cut grass and she'd even let him read aloud to her or vent his daily frustrations. It didn't matter how flat his voice was or what he'd say, she'd sit with him and listen all the same. He'd found that animals were much easier to understand than humans.

From time to time as Nyasha grew, he'd wonder how strange it was that she had almost tripled in size. She was unusually big for a cat and she had even grown to be half the height of the young prince himself. She grew without any definitive end in sight or so it seemed. Was it something he'd been feeding her? He would question. She was quite chubby, after all.

But as he watched her roll in the grass pleasantly beside him, he concluded that while she may be an anomaly in her own right, it didn't really matter.

Ichiji faced his head up towards the sky–the stars twinkled above them as a cool salty breeze blew through the garden, rustling the leaves on the bushes and nipping through his hair. Nyasha nestled herself into his arms and he couldn't help but feel a small smile creep onto his face.

_______

Present day

Ichiji fell to his bed when he returned home. He was exhausted. Saving Niji and Yonji was no easy feat, especially with the dead weight that was Caesar Clown also tagging along. His raid suit was torn and covered in burn marks–his face was covered in cuts and bruises along the whole of his body, too. His hair hung tangled and messy in the view of his face. At this point, he didn't even care anymore. He was far too tired to even think about getting up to tidy it.

Honestly, it was hard to fully absorb everything that had happened in such a short span of time. Between the wedding preparations and Sanji's return to Germa as a prince–well, rather than saying he'd "returned", a better choice of words would be that he'd been dragged back and forced into an arranged marriage between he and a daughter from the Charlotte family.

And then there was also the matter of the admittedly intimidating Big Mum and her practically endless slough of children at her fingertips.

He was supposed to have died that day, they all were. They were ensnared in a trap and all that was left was the order to pull the trigger–but then Sanji appeared before them and shattered what bound them all beneath the heel of his shoe in an instant. Ichiji just couldn't fathom why. After all he'd done to him...didn't Sanji despise him, hate him even? Why would he go as far to save someone who he'd once called a "heartless monster"?

No, Ichiji knew it had nothing to do with him. Sanji had just done it to spare Reiju's life, that much was obvious. But even still...it moved Ichiji to the point that he sprang into action moments after.

He mulled over all that had happened days before in his head. Thirteen years had passed between them but Sanji remained just as confusing as he ever was.

He thought back to his childhood days and the turbulent feelings that overcame him at times throughout the years.

Perhaps his father...had been wrong about Sanji, and maybe Ichiji himself had been wrong, too. Perhaps Sanji's kindness was never the grand weakness he'd thought it to be. Maybe...he and Sanji weren't so different after a–

It was then that Ichiji's thoughts came to a halt as he sensed a sudden presence standing behind him. He removed his sunglasses and looked over his shoulder only to find Reiju standing there with a slightly curious expression.

"Well, that's a surprise–you never take those things off. What an honour–" she jested with a smile and continued, "Wow–I'd forgotten how much your eyes looked like mums. Such a rich and deep blue–just like the night sky..." she remarked leaning forward just a tad to soak in the rare view.

Ichiji blinked, pausing for a moment at her words–were his eyes really just like mothers? He'd always thought that Sanji's–hell, even Niji or Yonji's eyes looked more similar to hers when compared to his deep ocean-blues.

Ichiji sat up, "Right. So...why are you here?" Ichiji inquired with a monotone inflection, "Do you have something important to say, or are you just here to annoy me?"

To his surprise, she'd then revealed a pink hairbrush that she'd been holding out from behind her back. "I remembered how mother used to brush your hair. You always looked so happy and content when she did it, so..." she drew in closer, "I just thought you might enjoy having your hair brushed by me as well." Ichiji wanted to protest her assumptions but he held his silence for a moment. He was too tired to argue.

"I can brush my own hair, Reiju. I'm not a child any longer." He muttered in a low tone.

She then reached forward and began to brush away as if she didn't hear his reply. Soot and ashes fell from his hair as she kept at it diligently. He sat up further and maintained his silence as he accepted she was stubbornly going to do this whether he wanted her to or not.

It was strange to have his hair brushed by Reiju of all people. And yet...it still felt nice. Comforting, even. He closed his eyes in contentment and in his mind he saw a faint memory of his mother.

He remembered as she hummed that tune while gliding the brush carefully through his cowlicks. He saw her golden locks cascaded over her shoulders as he viewed her from below. His memories of her were faded now but he could still hear her tune and see her smile backlit by the sun. She spoke to him but he could no longer remember the words.

The memory dissipated as the brush left his hair in better form now. "There...all done." Reiju said, doing the remaining finishing touches with her fingertips.

"Good." He got up to pat the dust from earlier that day off of his clothes. He then turned to his sister and looked her up and down with just his eyes–she looked so much like their mother now, it was almost scary.

"Thank you, Reiju..." he spoke softly. At his words, his usually stoic sister lit up a bit and smiled softly in return. He didn't understand why she'd go this far–didn't she hate him? Wasn't he just another heartless monster in her eyes as she once told Sanji?

"Anytime." she said. He nodded in reply and then she slowly turned, leaving the room with a faint warmth it didn't have before.

Ichiji walked up to the window, taking in the pale of the moon. He thought of Niji and Yonji pinned in Big Mom's book like butterflies in some sick display. The night carried on right before his eyes and soon the sun's rays pierced through the high walls of the crumbled desolate country that was known as Germa.

A bird took flight outside his window, becoming one with the sky. It reminded him of his once-weak brother, Sanji as it disappeared and flew far out of view.

His mind wandered further as he rested his head against the wall and closed his heavy eyes.

A small thought popped into his head as he drifted off–he'd wondered if one day they, too, could fly off.

To become free, just as he was.

[redsnowdrop]

Y/N X DABI FF -oneshot-

To my -> Fan fiction Masterlist <-

On AO3:

On Wattpad:

[deathcapyandex]

Known Only By Alias

[known only by Alias]

A self indulgent loid forger x yandere self insert.

Yandere in the sense of reclaimed and coping with bpd by using my blorbo and f/o thank you.

Symptoms expressed include obsessive tendencies, jealousy and possessiveness.

Probably just gonna be the one fic unless I decide to write more about loid.

May or may not be replacing Fiona.

Code name Twilight, the agent currently going by the name Loid Forger was a highly respected person in the agency. Damn good at his job too.

Code name Sparrow, the agent assigned to a mission designated in twilights area was also assigned as a neighbor in case of backup or cover during twilights mission was needed.

Today was move in day, sparrow had just arrived at the apartment with their things and started settling in.

Residents had noticed the boxes and furnishings being moved in priar to their arrival and seemed to have created a little buzz, gossiping about the new neighbor moving in, so they expected to meet some people and have to introduce themselves a bit.

No problem, nothing to be nervous about, it would be easy enough. However the thing they were worried about, was actually meeting Twilight.

If they were to cooperate together for the first time, first impressions had to go well!

Though, this meant meeting the rest of the forger family as well. Sparrow looked forward to meeting his fake wife least of all.

They would have immediately volunteered to be assigned that role had they not had an assignment already prior, for the sake of the mission of course, another agent as skilled as sparrow surely would have been much better fitting.

But due to the shortage of agents available at the time limit twilight had upon starting his mission, he had to rope in some civilians. Unfortunate.

At the very least sparrow could be there close by to make sure things went smoothly for twilight. If this mission didn't go well, his reputation as an agent might get tarnished and the agencies entire operation could be at stake or worse. Being around twilight alone was quite the honour and a nice bonus too.

Though, having a seperate mission of their own would get in the way every now and then, they just hopped it didn't become too much of a hindrance.

For now it was time to play the part of the good neighbor.

A knock at the door of their apartment broke up the agents thoughts. They set down the books they were absentmindedly organizing in the living room, setting them on top of the low set bookshelf and walking to the entrance to answer the door.

A peak through the eye hole showed them the face of a blonde man, one glance at the pin on his blazer immediately told sparrow who he was.

They opened it to find a blonde man, a dark haired woman and a small girl. The forgers.

"hello" sparrow greeted with a polite smile.

"hello, I'm Loid Forger. This is my family, my wife Yor and our daughter Anya." He motioned to them both as he introduced them. "We're your neighbors nextdoor. We moved in just last month ourselves and we noticed you're new so we thought we would introduce ourselves."

"it's very nice to meet you all. I'm Sind Dufaux." They introduced themself in return.

"it's a pleasure to meet you mx. Dufaux! We were wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner tomorrow night" Yor spoke up with a bright smile, seemingly excited.

"that sounds lovely, thank you, I would" sparrow replied with an almost mirrored expression.

"it's settled then- ah, Anya, it's rude to stare, say hello" Loid spoke to his daughter.

The little girl stood staring with an awed expression at Sind, like something about them caught her by surprise in the "better than I imagined" way a child usually expresses.

*this kids pretty cute in person*

Anya smiled brightly "Hi!! I got a doggy and his name is Bond! You wanna meet him??"

"They can meet Bond tomorrow when they come over for dinner, sweetie" Yor pointed out with a chuckle.

"right!" Anya nodded with enthusiasm.

"well then, all that's settled. It was a pleasure meeting you Mx. Dufaux. We'll leave you be now" Loud nodded.

"it was very nice to meet you all too." They replied.

Loid and Sind exchanged a glance as the forgers left. A knowing nod, then the door was shut.

All seemed to have gone well. Though they could have done without Yors enthusiasm, twilight at the very least acknowledged them as a co-worker now.

And so starts the new fake life, two agents who only know each other by alias assigned to work together. If they didn't know better it was as if they were in some sort of romance novel. But no, of course not, this was strictly professional, and all for the sake of both their missions.

While sparrow was more than happy to lend twilight a hand, they would have to begrudgingly do so with Yor in the way.

Surely though, it will work out in the end.

Don't mind writing more if anyone is interested

[fandomfantasyy]

aindcfhfbdhc i saw you do fnf fics!! i was wondering if you could do a garcello x a tired gender neutral reader?

𝜗୧ ,, garcello x gn!reader !!

꒰꒰ type ;; oneshot ,, ꒰꒰ pov ;; second person ,, ꒰꒰ cw ;; cigarettes, health issues ,, ꒰꒰ characters ;; garcello, gn!reader ,, ꒰꒰ fandom ;; fnf ,, ꒰꒰ note ;; life laugh love garcello (hes literally the top reason i put fnf on the list) also you didnt specify pov so i hope second is okay, if not re-request and ill redo it !! ,,

⌒ 𓈒 fanfic under the cut !! ꒱

ㅤYou were extremely drowsy, laying on the couch with Garcello. Your head was laid one one of his thighs as he stroked your hair, feeling yourself lazily blink as you stared at the TV in front of you. You didn't even exactly know what was on. Some comedy, maybe. You were too exhausted to remember or even tell.

ㅤYou felt the thigh under your head shift and you whined, looking up at him. He was looking right back down at you with his normal expression, however with just a tinge of guilt and concern.

ㅤ"…Thought you were asleep." He mumbled. You saw the cigarette pack in his hand, you knew he did this every night. He let you fall asleep, went to the alley, and smoked. Then he tended to get off on an errand or got completely distracted, and wasn't normally back by the time you woke up in the morning. You still pretended to be asleep, though. The small yet love-filled mumbles he whispered to you as he waited for you to wake up warmed your heart.

ㅤYou reached up, grabbed the pack, and placed it on the table next to you. You didn't want him leaving you in the night to smoke again. You stood up, albeit uncoordinated, and tugged him by the sleeve to the bedroom. Whether you were strong or weak didn't matter, he just let you tug him around with a quiet chuckle. It was adorable watching where you went and why with him.

ㅤYou pushed him onto the bed, turned off the lights, grabbed the blanket, and flopped ontop of him. "You're staying here tonight." You huffed. You were tired, exhausted. You probably forgot to turn off the TV in the living room-

ㅤ"…Hon, the TV in the living room is still on."

ㅤYou sighed, getting up and walking out of the room to turn that damned TV off. You just wanted to sleep and spend a genuine night with your love. You knew discussing how him leaving in the night hurt you, but that was a story for you when you didn't want to pass out from exhaustion.

ㅤYou laid next to him after locking the bedroom door, pushing yourself into his arms. "Tonight you're staying with me." You stated, not taking any questions. You didn't want to hear shit, you just wanted to wake up with him still asleep with you in his arms.

ㅤHe hesitated before shaking his head slightly with a smile, realizing there was no way out of this. Not like he was against it, but still.

ㅤYou were too sweet. He knew you were only doing this for his health. He didn't sleep as much as he should, even he accepted that. He just pulled you close as you drifted off into sleep.

ㅤ"…Rest well." He said, as his eyes fluttered shut and he fell asleep against you. ♡

[rainestormroom]

Mico x Crow oneshot thing based off my "Starr Park 24" au

//animal x animal, enemies/rivals to lovers, fucking gay af

Mico: I just about had about enough of you

Crow:...hm

Mico: Oh don't be so fucking surprise, all u and your bad of misfits have done is went around and cause trouble all for what? So u can go around & snoop through Miss Lola's work. Well not anymore!

Mico ties Crow's hands in rope

Mico: I'm keeping a close eye on u to prevent u from messing around anywhere else in brawlywood!

Crow:.....you know for someone who doesn't care about the rest of these brawlywood snobs u still go other of ur way to defend them...do u just wanna impress them all that bad?

Mico: !!! Of course not- i just care about doing good...

Crow: is that so..well i think u would do more good if u don't trust a word these famous people say...you're extremely impressive being able to follow us all the way up here...you have way better talents and yet ur so obsessed with still trying to impress those group of rich brawlers...

Mico: !!! Y..you shut up! U know nothing about me...

Crow:...Oh i do(literally was watching u guys the whole party)...and it's genuninely upsetting how big of pricks they are to u...especially that green hair egomanic...

Mico:......w..why do u care sm...

Crow: because im trying to make u see..u can be taught a lot more than u allow yourself to be..maybe if u allowed other people who are nice to u to take ur hand....

Mico: !!

Crow was now untied, Mico was now tied up instead

Crow: u might actually be where u dream of being...

Mico: !! G..Get BACK here...

Crow:..no thanks...but i'll give u one thing...ur a pretty fun opponent...yet i think i over stayed my welcome

the security guards are heading up

Crow: i really don't wanna spend any more of my time in this dump...

Crow cuts a hole in the window before looking back at mico

Crow:..u finally stopped talking and began to think...

Mico: fuck off....

Crow: ....again, your talent should not be wasted as a meat shield.

Crow Leaves from the window, leaving a quiet Mico stun as he tries to process what just happened

Mico:......weirdo.

[ichigotheringbearer]

I posted yet another Ichigo/Uryū oneshot! This one's got quite a bit of angst, but it's hurt/comfort which means it's not merciless and unforgiving.

Be sure to check it out if you're interested!

[guardian-of-fun-times]

The soft crunch of snow beneath your boots filled the air as you made your way toward North’s workshop. The morning sunlight reflected off the frost-covered windows, making the entire building glisten like a treasure chest buried in an arctic dream. You adjusted the hem of your red velvet dress nervously, feeling the luxurious fabric sway with each step. The dress was fitted at the bodice, with intricate golden embroidery spiraling down like frost patterns on a windowpane. A delicate white blouse peeked out from beneath the sleeveless gown, its high lace collar and ruffled cuffs adding an elegant touch.

A gold sash trimmed with shimmering thread wrapped around my waist, cinching the dress perfectly. My pearl bracelets jingled softly as you shifted the cape draped over your shoulders — a deep crimson velvet lined with plush white fur. It flowed behind you like a regal train, brushing the snow-dusted ground.

On your head rested a golden flower crown adorned with tiny, frosted leaves, glimmering under the pale winter sun. A few pearl ornaments dangled from the crown, catching the light with every movement. You tucked a loose curl of hair behind one of your pointed elf ears, still adjusting to how Jack insisted on them for the “look.”

Your gloves, white as fresh snow, were embroidered with tiny golden stars at the cuffs, and the boots you wore matched perfectly — laced up the front with golden ribbon. You felt as if you'd walked straight out of one of North’s storybooks.

"Perfect for the occasion." Jack had said when he handed me the outfit the day before, his eyes glinting with devilry. I should have known better than to trust him.

As you stepped inside, the scent of pine and cinnamon wrapped around you like a warm hug. The workshop was bustling with activity, elves darting around with rolls of wrapping paper, and yetis carefully placing ornaments on towering Christmas trees. I spotted North near the center, his booming laughter echoing as he gave directions to his crew. Jack was nowhere in sight.

"Ah, there you are!" North greeted, his smile as bright as the twinkling lights above. "Jack said you'd be coming. He’s… somewhere. Likely up to no good." His chuckle hinted at an amused exasperation only someone used to Jack’s antics could muster.

You barely had time to respond when a familiar chill swept past you, and Jack materialized out of thin air, his signature smirk firmly in place. "You made it!" He exclaimed, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with rascality. "And look at you! Absolutely perfect!" He swung to lean on his staff, cocking his head to the side in admiration.

You glimpsed down at your outfit, then back at him. "What is this all for?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack only grinned wider. "You'll see."

He led you further into the workshop, weaving between workbenches and stacks of presents. You noticed the elves were unusually giggly, whispering and pointing as we passed. Suspicion started to creep in, but Jack’s enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself relaxing despite your better judgment.

Finally, we reached a clearing near the center of the workshop, where a large circle of garland and fairy lights had been arranged. Suspended above it was the most elaborate display of mistletoe I had ever seen. There were at least twenty sprigs, all hanging at different heights, with tiny bells attached that jingled softly as they swayed.

"Jack..." You said slowly, crossing your arms. "What is this?"

He tried to look innocent — unsuccessfully. "Oh, just a little festive fun. You know, holiday spirit and all that."

Before you could respond, a troublesome gust of wind swept through the room, pushing you gently but firmly under the mistletoe. Jack followed; hands clasped behind his back as he hovered just close enough to make your cheeks flush a soft rose.

"Jack!" You scoffed, glancing around. The elves were peeking out from behind corners, barely containing their laughter, and even North was watching from a distance, shaking his head with a grin.

"Relax." Jack said, his voice low and teasing. "It's just a harmless tradition. Besides, it’s not my fault the mistletoe decided to… encourage things."

You peeked up, realizing the mistletoe was now glowing faintly. Jack’s magic, no doubt.

"Encourage things?" You repeated, your tone incredulous.

He shrugged, leaning in just enough to make your heart race. "Well, you’re here, I’m here, and the mistletoe has already made up its mind. Might as well not disappoint it."

The room erupted in laughter and cheers as Jack pressed a quick, playful kiss to my lips, his breath cool against your skin. Your face burned, and you swatted at him in embarrassment, but he only laughed, his joy as bright as the frost-covered decorations around us.

"You're impossible!" You muttered, though you couldn't stop the smile tugging at your lips.

"And you love it!" He shot back, winking before taking your hand. "Now, come on. I’ve got more surprises waiting. Just… maybe watch out for any more mistletoe. You never know where it might show up."

As Jack led you away, the air behind us shimmered faintly, and a warm golden glow filled the workshop. I turned just in time to see Toothiana fluttering in, her iridescent wings catching the light like the finest stained glass.

"Jack!" She scolded as she landed beside North, crossing her arms and fixing him with a pointed stare. "What did you do this time?"

North laughed heartily. "You just missed it, Tooth! Mistletoe mayhem, as always. Jack’s specialty!"

Toothiana rolled her eyes but smiled at me warmly. "You look absolutely lovely, dear." She said, admiring the outfit that Jack had recommended. "Very festive!"

Before you could thank her, the ground trembled slightly, and the sound of hopping echoed through the workshop. Bunny appeared next, his boomerangs strapped to his back and a wreath slung over one arm.

"What's all this racket about?" He inquired, his thick Australian accent cutting through the noise of the workshop. Then his eyes landed on me and Jack. "Ah, let me guess — Frostbite’s up to no good again."

"You know it!" Jack said proudly.

"Figures..." Bunny smirked, rolling his eyes then handing you a small box. "Merry Christmas, mate. Thought you’d like this."

The room was quickly filling with the Guardians. Sandy floated in, sprinkling golden sand that turned into sparkling ornaments mid-air, and even Pitch Black made a rare appearance, staying toward the shadows but nodding in greeting.

The warmth of their presence filled the workshop, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy. Christmas was truly a time of togetherness, and even Jack’s pranks couldn’t dampen the magic of the day.

[shegatsby]

Could I possibly request a fic where Hannibal has reader hidden away in a secret room. Like he keeps her there in her own world kinda like a princess in a tower situation. He keeps her there so she’s safe and doesn’t know what he does. She’s actually pretty happy with the situation because she loves him he loves her yadayada and possible smut MAYBE Will gets to meet her🤭 idk I’m new to requesting also I love your stuff man 10/10

Your day started just like the day before but this time you had a dream. It was about the night he brought you here. You were his patient, had a troubled upbringing with drug addict parents, your earliest memory was sitting on a couch, starving, and watching your parents with needles… you were taken to custody but it was too late. You were scarred for life. You focused on your education till one day you snapped and had to find a psychiatrist.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter

You had read his reviews, whatever you could find about him on the Imternet.

You walked to the luxurious bathroom, your mind clouded with the memories of your first session with him.

It was spring and you wore a milkmaid dress. Since his upstanding reputation you wanted to look “sane” and “presentable”

Wiping your palms on your dress you knocked on the grey door, you had noticed the absence of a secretary but didn’t pay much mind. And he opened the door…

You were awe struck to say the least. He easily standing there in his 3 piece suit, clean shaven and inviting you with his dark maroon eyes. “Hello Ms.Y/LN. Please come in.” You smiled gently and entered. He had 2 stores in the office, at the top there was a balcony which looked like a library, books were wall to wall. Down stairs he had a brown desk with organized materials on it, a fire place, paintings on the walls. He gestured you to sit and he sat across you with his black leather notebook. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs, even though he was sitting he still spoke tall. “I must admit,” he began and caught your attention, you found yourself sitting up tall, matching his aura, “ Ms. Y/L/N, you had sent me a very interesting email.” In order for him to accept a client one must sent an email which he replies in 3 days. “How come?”

He looked into your eyes, yes there was space between you two but you could feel his intensity. “You were straightforward, it almost felt as if you wanted to show me how bad your situation is, so that I’ll reject you. Do you often show your bad side for others to rum away, thus, you don’t have to interact with them?”

His questioning made you drop your jaw, this was his deduction from just the email? You wondered if you should continue and expose yourself to him and also face your fears or just get up and leave.

Hannibal noticed the hesitation in your eyes, he put the book away and did something which left you speechless. There was a cabinet on the wall behind him, he opened it and got a bottle of red wine and 2 glasses. He poured one for you and and extended his hand, “No need to fret Ms. Y/L/N,” you got the glass and felt his touch, “after all, I’m here to serve you.” His tone was less formal than before.

And your story began with him, at first you had your session with him once a month, and office hours turned into coffee dates and dinners.

You used to live alone in a one bedroom flat with yur cat Lucifer, he was a huge black cat thus the name Lucifer came.

One night you were out with your pyschiatrist Doctor Lecter. He invited you out for dinner and to be honest he showed off his wealth and refined palate. You found youself admiring his life style, luxurious yet elegant like the royals. He wasn't shy of showing it to you or making you experience it first hand.

The night was amazing, you were like two normal adults having a nice dinner, both of you lost the titles of doctor and patient and enjoyed each other's company, he drove you home and everything happened that night.

''Did you leave your lights on?'' he mentined the yellow lights coming from your flat, ''No.'' an icy feeling entered your chest, ''I'll come with you to check it, stay behind me.'' he said, his protective side showing, you did as he told you and together you rode the elevator and came to your door which was wide open.

Tears filled your eyes when you saw your home, everything was torn and broken, someone came in and did an arduous damage. Hannibal checked to see if someone was still inside. It was empty, ''Where is your cat?'' and with the mention of Lucifer your hands went to your chest and you started calling for Lucifer, you found him hiding, he was shivering.

''I'm also working with FBI, I know people who can help. In the mean time you're staying with me.'' it wasn't a question or a request, he meant what he said.

''O-okay.'' you were shivering. You picked up Lucifer and you felt Hannibal's hand on the small of your bag, ''Let's get you to the car, and I'll call my friends Will and Jack.''

He got you inside the car and left to make a call and the rest was history.

His house felt like a museum at first but it grew on you over your stay. He gave you the guest bedroom which was bigger than your own, he also went out of his way to collect your precious belongings from your robbed house. It wasn't much just a small bag, Lucifer was the most important to you. Hannibal also liked animals and didn't sany anything about your cat, in fact they got along.

After a week you started to look for a new place to stay, you were having breakfast together, ''What are you doing?'' he asked as he poured you coffee, ''House hunting.'' you replied shortly and saw him dropp the spoon he was holding, this was the first time he lost his composure and he cursed himself, ''Clumsy today.'' he joked and continued, ''You shouldn't rush. I am happy to have you, in my home.''

You looked up to meet his maroon eyes, ''Thank you for everything Hannibal but I don't want to be a burden.'' as your therapist he already knew how you felt. His mission was to convince you to stay. Manipulate you even...

Together you went on house huntings, he was there all the time. After every house he would find something bad about it, neighboors, mold, too pricy etc.

One night you were watching a movie together, it was an old Hollywood classic. ''Don't leave.'' you heard him and turned to face him, he was sitting next to you, his arm on your shoulders, ''What?''

You were startled, ''I don't want you to go.'' he puased the movie, his eyes pleading, ''that night when you house was broken into, I swore to protect you and never let you out of my sight.'' he held your hands, ''Its dangerous outside Y/N, I cannot let you go.''

His tone sent shivers down your spine, he was serious. ''Do you want me to-'' he cut you off, ''Be mine.''

and he leaned in for a passionate kiss.

Since then you were with him, he took care of every detail and let you thrive and pursue your passions such as writing and painting. He was a possessive man and never liked to see your attention go to someone else that's why he introduced you to only one person,

Will Graham. His colleague and friend.

Thank you for reading. :)

[hoomandoescosplay]

Nighttime Routine | Vox x Reader Oneshot

As I’m laying my head on his chest I can feel his breathing start to slow and even out. Guess he can fall asleep fast I think to myself.

I untangle myself from his embrace and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek before laying on my side and trying to drift off as well.

I struggle for a few minutes before my eyes finally start to get heavy and I begin to drift off.

As soon as my eyes fully close they snap open as a bright light freaks me out. I sit up slightly to get a better view and I see a video of Vark swimming underwater.

Vark’s never been underwater from what I know at least. I glance at Vark at the edge of the bed and see him curled up fast asleep as well.

I then glance back at Vox’s screen as a new video is playing. Are these his dreams? I reach my arm out and lightly pat Vox’s shoulder.

“I think your dreams are playing on your screen…” I mumbled tiredly. I get no response from him.

I sigh as I lay back down facing the ceiling. The light is continuing to emit off of his screen which does not help me to fall asleep.

After a few more minutes of staring at the ceiling I cover my face as I groan out. His screen starts to play some white noise that correlates to his dreams.

“There’s no way I’m falling asleep like this.” I mutter out through my hands. I can faintly hear the noises coming from the white noise as I grab one of my pillows and move closer to Vox.

“Sorry but not really.” I mumbled sleepily as I placed the pillow over his face and screen to try to drown out the light and noise.

I guess I may have pressed the pillow down too hard on his screen cause it woke him up.

"What in the world-" He mumbled sleepily, removing the pillow from his face, "What's going on, doll? Why did you do that-?" He questioned, blinking tiredly.

I stare at him for a moment as he’s now holding onto my pillow. “You need a mute button.” I mumble as I rub my eyes tiredly.

He stifled a yawn as he began to understand what I’m referring to. "Oh, I see. You're hearing my dreams. Did it bother you that much?" He asked as he placed the pillow he was holding down next to him.

“I’m just not used to sleeping with any sort of lights or noise.” I admit feeling slightly bad for waking him up.

He nods slightly and moves his arm so it's wrapped around me again as he pulls me closer to him.

"I should have put my screen on its night mode. That’s my fault, doll." He mumbled tiredly. His screen then goes to a settings page and I see him flick on his night mode setting.

He sighs to himself and blinks tiredly as he wraps the blanket back over us. "I do appreciate you waking me up instead of trying to suffer in silence." He mumbled, referring to me waking him up by placing the pillow on his face.

I laugh quietly. “Waking you up wasn’t part of the plan but you’re welcome.” I cuddle up into his embrace. “Thank you.” I whisper out as I close my eyes.

He smiles faintly and presses a gentle kiss to my temple and cuddles me back, burying his face into my hair. "You're welcome, doll." He whispered quietly as we both drifted off to sleep.