#yonji fanfic

[wing-ed-thing]

... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part III

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 7.4k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Language, Reader Falls First, Yonji Falls Harder, Academic Discussion of Dark Themes, Suggestive Commentary

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Notes: We're just doing a slew of fairy tale inspired Vinsmoke fics aren't we? Fun fact, the "the beast" doesn't refer to Yonji at all, but the size of these chapters ay yo! hahahahahaha... haha...ha

When Yonji requested you back in his quarters for his morning routine, you assumed that things were returning to what they were— that is, not normal. Rather than spending time in the archive just downstairs from the attic space where you made your sleeping area, you made directly for Yonji’s quarters just as the sun rose to prepare him for breakfast with the rest of the royal family.

Judge, for as pragmatic as he typically was, always gathered his four children for breakfast and dinner. A rather sentimental notion, the meals were held at strict times every week, and any excuse short of standing in an active war zone or teetering on the brink of death did not hold enough weight for any of the Vinsmoke children to be absent. No matter how spread out the fleet was on any given day, granted that no paid work was being tended to, the towers of all four children, the kitchen, and the throne room convened at least once a week. 

You knocked on one of the double doors leading to Yonji’s bedroom, and as anticipated, you received no response. Yonji could sleep through a hurricane— and did once— but you didn’t want to risk the brutal punishment that would have come with walking in on him if he were miraculously conscious so early in the morning. 

Light from the hall flooded into his bedroom as you opened the door, and the triangle of golden illumination dwindled as you closed the door behind you. The blackout lights were drawn exactly how you left them the night before as you crept through the darkness of the room. 

You approached the curtain to the left of Yonji’s bed, drawing it to the side to brighten half of the room. Yonji’s sleeping form instinctually twitched as he buried himself farther into his luxury cotton sheets. You moved to the other side of the bed to draw the other curtain.

“Prince Yonji,” you called his name softly. Yonji grumbled something incoherent into his pillow. “It’s time to get ready for breakfast.” You turned to rifle through his wardrobe. His attire was the same for the most part, but Yonji liked seeing options. 

You let the top cabinets close with a quiet thud. Yonji groaned again, tossing to face the opposite side of the room. He threw an arm up that smacked against his headboard. His covers fell to around his hip on his left side, exposing half of his bare chest. You kept your focus on the drawers of his wardrobe as you plucked out a few more articles of clothing. 

You draped two of everything over your forearm and walked once more to the opposite side of the bed. Yonji lay with his eyes cracked open as you placed everything neatly on the end of the bed. You held up two white button-ups, one with a ruffled collar and one without. In his half-awake state, Yonji made a gesture to the shirt with the ruffles. You hooked the approved shirt’s hanger on your arm and placed the other one back at the end of the bed. 

You did the same for his slacks, and by the time Yonji finally sat up on his own accord and threw his legs over the side of the bed, you had already established a complete outfit for the day. It hardly took Yonji a single yawn and a few complying motions before he was completely dressed, eyeing you as you knelt between his thighs to finish buttoning his shirt. You had been quick to slide a pair of pants over his briefs. 

Even after all this time, the better part of your thoughts were painted on your face. Most of Germa, the royal family especially, was the furthest thing from shy when it came to nudity. Most of the soldiers shared tight quarters, after all, and the raid suits for the princes and the princess required complete disrobing before and upon use. While you hadn’t grown up in Germa yourself, you couldn’t help but secretly consider that the way in which you dressed Yonji in the morning alone was quite intimate, even for Germa’s standards. All of this, Yonji, of course, knew, but he never tired from getting a rise out of you, especially when the means were so simple.

You offered him his earphones, which he took and placed around the back of his neck before standing. You placed his rejected selections back in the wardrobe before turning to make his bed.

“Forget about that.” Yonji waved flippantly toward the messy bundle of sheets and blankets. “Go back to the library and prepare for my arrival. I’ll be there after breakfast.” He didn’t say anything else before walking out into the hall, leaving you to panic.

***

You didn’t quite understand what “prepare the library” meant, considering that your job mostly consisted of knowing what things were and where they were. (Given the infrequency of people taking books from the library archive, you hardly ever had to put books back that you didn’t take out yourself.) Even the custodial duties weren’t your responsibility, given that cleaning staff were sent to your snail every two weeks or so to manage the red carpets that lined the hall and dust the shelves. If anything, your most laborious work occurred every spring on archival week, so you weren’t exactly sure what you were meant to prepare.

You considered bringing down two tea cups and a pot of hot tea but swiftly decided that Yonji would likely not only be insulted but disgusted by such a low-quality product. Unsure of what to do, you collected your documentation from the archival week that occurred just a few months ago and meandered around the center of the large chamber awaiting Yonji’s arrival. 

He came just as the sun outside began shining at full capacity. You stood in the center of the room on the intricately woven carpet below, with the files in your arms. Yonji hardly regarded you as he strode into the room before taking the door handles of the massive double doors in his hands to push them closed. Your breath hitched as he latched them, officially cutting off your only means of escape. 

Yonji turned back to you, his brows furrowed at the paperwork in your arms. 

“A detailed organizational account, Prince Yonji.” You politely dipped your head. Yonji’s mouth turned into a wide, closed-lipped frown as he approached you. When he stood just a short distance before you, he snatched the documents and threw them to the ground. 

“Not necessary.” He circled you and stopped just behind you to give you a shove forward. “Go grab all the shit you’ve been reading.” 

You swiveled your head back, “Um—?”

“You do everything I say with that stupid look on your face for months, but when I ask about your dumb interests, you go, ‘Prince Yonji, um’?” he mocked, imitating your expression with a pucker of his lips before they reverted back into a scowl. Yonji gestured toward the shelves that lined the walls. “Pull everything.”

“Yessir!” You nodded adamantly as you started toward the closest shelf. Yonji’s eyebrow shot up.

“What was that?”

“Yes, Prince Yonji,” you corrected, already taking a book from the shelf. You tried to spare a glance back at him, but the nervous smile that tugged at your cheeks made you turn back to the shelf quickly.

Even Yonji couldn’t hold his scowl for long, not when you had that gleam in your eyes.

***

He followed you with a closeness that made you conscious of your stride. You pulled a few selections from the shelves, glancing back at Yonji every so often for approval. He positioned himself as awkwardly as he could, trailing to your right and backing up as you slowly skimmed the walls. Yonji, as a rule of thumb, imposed himself wherever possible and least convenient. 

 With a few books piled in your arms, you wandered past an entire section of Sora comics. Germa 66, whether it be out of vanity or an unspoken sense of humor, boasted the entire running collection of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. Despite the thin volumes, the collection easily took over two long shelves. You hoped that Yonji wouldn’t notice your purposeful ignorance of the comics, but you supposed you couldn’t have been that lucky.

“Not a fan?” Yonji laughed. He placed a hand on one of the upper shelves and the other dipped into the left pocket of his slacks. He purposefully towered over you, not allowing you to move forward to the next section. 

You didn’t think quickly enough to hide your expression. Yonji grinned.

“Go on.” He gestured to the collection with a jerk of his head. “I know you’ve read ‘em.”

You looked off to the side with a sheepish grin, and when you took too long, Yonji grabbed you by the sleeve of your shoulder and shoved you toward the shelf. Your reluctant fingers easily found the limited-edition volume somewhere in the middle of the compilation. Yonji snatched it from you the moment you began to pull it and laughed even louder than he had before, quickly yanking the comic from its clear plastic wrapping.

“You know I was fucking with you, right?” he bellowed with another quirk of his brows. An amused hissing teased through his teeth as he flipped through the glossy pages. 

The publishing company had released a limited edition volume featuring Germa 66 in which the branding was overwritten from Sora, Warrior of the Sea, to Ichiro, Son of Germa. The short story that centered around Germa 66 commander “Ichiro” depicted a day in the life of the supervillains when they weren’t up to their sinister plots. The end of the comic even included some uncharacteristically heroic actions taken by the group. And while the edition had been clearly named after Ichiji, all four Vinsmoke siblings received a rather generous, albeit exaggerated, depiction. It experienced limited printing due to many complaints that a flattering depiction of Germa 66 was in poor taste.

 “I grew up reading the Sora comics,” you said, trying to look anywhere else but Yonji. But even so, you could feel his eyes boring into you. Mischief painted itself on his face as he couldn’t help a mean smirk.

“So you are a fan,” Yonji teased. The comic fell closed. “Or maybe you’re trying to suck up to me.” Your eyes widened in just the way he liked.

“Oh, no, I’m not trying to—”

“Who’s your favorite?” His nose scrunched up in an overwhelming display of amusement. He held up the cover, which illustrated all members of Germa 66 with “Ichiro” in the center and Garuda’s silhouette in the background. The way he seemed to hunch over you didn’t escape you. Yonji drew a bit closer with one hand still propped against the shelves. There was only one right answer, or at least only one answer he would accept. “C’mon, you’ve gotta have a favorite.”

“My favorite?” You couldn’t even look at him. Yonji stared at you, his thorough enjoyment of your flustered state showing no sign of dissipating. 

“Your go-to volume is the Ichiro edition? Yeah, you have a favorite.” Yonji laughed. He bobbed his head to himself before inching closer. “Want me to guess?”

He wasn’t going to let it go until you answered. You adjusted the stack of books in your arms, unconsciously treating them like a barrier. You sucked in a deep breath. 

“Winch Green is my favorite.”

“HA! Wow, what a suck-up!” Yonji let out a roaring chuckle, finally straightening himself to stand at his full height again in self-satisfaction. Despite his rude words, that was the correct answer and it had been true. He eyed you incredulously when his laughter began to die down. “You weren’t born here. You came here a while ago, didn’t you? You really are a fan! That explains why you’re such a freak.” 

You kept your eyes on the collection of neatly wrapped comics as Yonji cackled. You readjusted the stack of books in your arms again, unable to help your visibly flustered demeanor. 

“Well…” You started, and your voice cracked. But like every other occasion when Yonji thought he had finally driven you to tears, you bent but didn’t break. “I owe a lot to Germa 66. You probably don’t remember, but you saved my country.” You nodded in accent, quirking your head slightly to the side. 

It was a single moment, but you caught it. You caught the millisecond that the harsh crease between Yonji’s brows flattened and the way in which his cheeks fell just before he recoiled. What had phased across his face less than a second before contorted his features from amused wideness to narrowed and disgusted confusion. 

“Cut it out with the sappy shit,” he snorted and turned on his heel to move onto another section of shelves, the comic still under his arm. 

Yonji continued to hover as you made your way around the rest of the library. He started from a short distance away, but it didn’t take long before he practically floated right over your shoulder. Yonji hunched a bit, imposing himself over you as he studied your literary selections. And to your surprise, he remained mostly quiet, although every so often, you would select a book apparently so ridiculous it would cause Yonji to scoff. 

Balancing a growing stack of texts against your chest, you reached up to grab another a few shelves above your head. Your fingers grasped at the spine, trying to pull it close enough to the edge. Yonji reached up and grabbed it with ease. You thought he was going to place it in your hand, but Yonji only scoffed, holding the book in front of his face to read the cover.

“Ancient Alabastian runes?” He squinted before quirking a brow at you. He waved the book in the air in accent. “You know how to read ancient Alabastian runes?” 

“I taught myself a bit,” you admitted. Yonji was already thumbing through the pages with a shake of his head. His shoulders tensed upwards with a rude scrunch of his face. 

“Why?” 

“Well, the architectural accomplishments of the period are legendary. Not to mention the culture…” 

Yonji’s chest jumped, a rude snort resounding from his nose. 

“The world’s obsession with that desert wasteland is so rudimentary,” he sighed. You blinked at his word choice. Yonji flipped through a couple more pages with an exasperated shrug before snapping the book closed. “They build a few triangular buildings, so what?”

You almost laughed, “The pyramids that are considered an engineering marvel?”

“If you want to talk about culture, you should take more interest in Elbaf,” he said, his boyish rasp drawing out the syllables of the name. Yonji leaned his shoulder against the bookshelf, still holding the book of runes as he spoke. “The way the giants integrate all of their traditional rituals with modern ways of life is pretty insane.”

“How did I know you were going to say Elbaf?” A playful smile crept onto your lips, a stark contrast to Yonji's acute expression of offense. A mix between a grunt and a gasp stalled in his throat. “I read a little bit about turf construction, and I like the sustainable approach.”

“Beats thinking a pile of sand is pretty,” he sneered, but his words lacked true weight. He reached up to one of the taller shelves, scanning the selection with his tongue poking out from his lips before he finally found what he was looking for. Yonji placed the book on your stack, giving it a rude poke that nearly made you drop your collection. “Turf construction is interesting, sure, but if you’re interested in some actually impressive architecture, try that.”

Yonji pushed off from the shelf, meandering backward to a new section of books.

***

It took the two of you the better part of the day to make it through the room, and you had only rifled through the main chamber of the southern tower. None of your searches included scientific texts or specialized materials, just general topics and narratives. You still didn’t understand what Yonji was looking for, but considering the amount of time you spent in the main chamber, your examination of the thousands of books housed in that room alone should have been more than sufficient. 

You had started on the lower level at the shelves to the right of the double doors, working your way around the side, up the stairwell, and around the balcony before descending the opposite stairs and ending up at the shelves to the left of the doors. Yonji had run a few stacks of books from the balcony down to the wooden table and at some point, began carrying the mass amount of books you pulled from the shelves. 

He had had no issue with the sheer volume— it was, after all, what he asked of you in the first place— but the compilation you held began to slow you down and made scaling the rolling ladders impossible. Just as you made it to the bottom of the first set of stairs, Yonji snatched the unbalanced stack in your arms from you. He held them easily with one hand, along with the other two materials he carried.

“Why are servants so goddamn helpless?” he muttered before gesturing impatiently for you to continue. 

Yonji could hold more than triple the amount of books you could, having little issue carrying three stacks by himself until they were piled up over his chin. And while the scoffing didn’t cease, every so often, Yonji would match one of your selections with one of his own. 

He had placed The Technological Evolution of Combating Summer Island Summers: Tradition, Astrological Patterns, and Scientific Discovery on top of the stack in his arms shortly after you had pulled another book on Alabasta. 

“There are more interesting islands out there than Sandy Island, but if you really like the place, you might as well read the stuff that’s actually interesting,” he sighed before quickly moving along. 

Stacks of books littered the long table below, and you allowed yourself to sit down for the first time in hours. The plates from lunch still sat at the far end of the table. Yonji’s lunch, not yours— you didn’t get one— although he requested enough food for two or three people. 

The cook aboard the archival snail nearly had a heart attack. 

“The prince wants lunch here?” He nearly passed out on the spot. The cook, after all, was assigned to the least-frequented snail in the entire fleet and hadn’t had to face feeding the royal family before. Even during archival week, all members of the royal family typically brought their own crews and, by extension, their own cooks. During all other occasions, feeding the Vinsmokes was Cosette’s duty as she was responsible for the main kitchen.

The library snail only held a servant’s kitchen— something you tried to tell Yonji, but he demanded the quickest meal you could summon. The crew and the handful of other servants who sailed with you weren’t exactly picky when it came to food. In fact, the only people who seemed to hold the most judgment about the cook's meals were his own children. 

“Prince Yonji wants his meal quickly,” you warned, making pointed eye contact at the cook. And whatever he made seemed to do the trick. 

You had carried in three plates—one on your head even—and all three were cleared with inhuman speed. Now, they sat forgotten at the end of the table. 

Per Yonji’s request, you pulled every single book you recalled reading in recent recollection, and they sat piled haphazardly in front of you. Even despite the fact that most of your days were spent reading, you were generous with your selections. Yonji made a face if you walked by any section without taking at least a book or two (he seemed to be under the legitimate impression that you had read every single text in the entire library).

It took you a moment to breathe before you noticed Yonji wasn’t with you. You glanced over to where he stood, just in front of your usual, comfortable reading chair next to the lefthand set of stairs. His left arm didn’t strain as he balanced an excessive stack of books, and he tucked his right hand into the pocket of his slacks as he craned his head toward the book of fairy tales and stories that sat on the side table. 

The collection was open this time and Yonji was already messing up your bookmark, but unlike all of the other books in the room, Yonji didn’t include it in his compilation. By the time he turned to where you were seated, he had closed the cover with a frown. 

“What are you so tuckered out for?” He placed the last stack on the table. “You didn’t do a goddamn thing.” 

Sometimes, you had to remind yourself that Yonji didn’t experience life the same way you did. Yonji seemed to forget the same, but you doubted he put much thought into it. 

***

Yonji appeared to no longer be interested in retaining you as his personal assistant from dawn until dusk, although that didn’t mean he had gotten rid of you altogether. He still expected you to wake him in the morning and get him ready for breakfast, but from thereafter, you were to return to and remain in the library. And in his time between mission work, drills, and other responsibilities he typically tended to as a commanding officer, Yonji hovered around you in the library.

Still unsure what he was expecting from you, the first few days of your new routine had been tense. Yonji would drop in at random intervals throughout the day, and if he wasn’t following you around the library as you worked, he was quietly planted somewhere in the room with one of your newly plucked-out books in his lap. 

The way he would drop in unannounced used to make you uneasy, and within the context of it all, you were still unsure how he wanted to be served. You bolted up several times from your plush chair in those first few days, placing your book half-hidden in the cushion for whatever startled reason before Yonji waved you back.

“Sit back down,” he would almost drawl as he made directly for the long wooden table still piled high with books. (You were surprised he didn’t evict you from your seat, given how he’d take the chair any time you weren’t using it. It was the only seating with a cushion.)

Your schedule might have changed, but Yonji’s domineering presence certainly did not. You still couldn’t help but consider how out of place he looked, especially on the occasions he wore his raid suit into the archive. Ever-tall, ever-bulky, even the way Yonji contorted himself when hunched over a book made him stand out against the background of your humble archive. 

“Prince Yonji,” you couldn’t help but tentatively call as you watched Yonji lower himself onto the carpet. His presence and behavior gave you never-ending whiplash. “Please, take my chair. Royalty shouldn’t lay on the floor!”

Yonji shrugged, propping his head up on his palm as he flipped his book open. 

“Your spot doesn’t get any sun” was all he said with a quick glance up at you from where he lay on his side. 

As the days went by, you found yourself more at ease with Yonji’s regular presence in your archive and even began growing excited at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. The table piled high with books became a staple, and for once, to your surprise, you had someone to talk about all of your books to.

“Yeah, the guy kidnapped her. But she ended up liking it, didn’t she?” Yonji started from his usual warm spot on the floor. He had rolled over onto his back, holding both sides of your recommended book above him. He moved it to the side to meet your eye. “I mean, she gets to be a queen and then visit her mom sometimes. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Yonji tilted his head to one side, then the other. 

“It’s a tale told to young girls to make them feel better about being sold into slavery to Celestial Dragons.” You lounged across the two armrests of your chair with your own novel in your lap. “Of course, she’s going to warm up to being with him to prove that the people you take are better off having been taken.” 

Yonji scoffed and frowned. 

“She chose to stay. There were three goddam chapters dedicated to her thinking about it. It was so boring.”

“It’s less about the characters and more about the context that the story was written,” you gently corrected. Two weeks prior, you wouldn’t have imagined speaking to Yonji in such a casual way. “The whole point is that it’s her decision to stay.” You lowered your book to prop your elbow on the armrest your back was leaning against. “It’s to keep young slaves hopeful that even the Lord of Death is secretly a charming prince.” 

Your eyes flickered back to your pages. 

“I still think you’re readin’ into it.” A pause filled the air. You didn’t notice how Yonji’s gaze lingered on you. “Where are you in yours?” 

“I just finished the section on shipbuilding.”

Yonji slowly sat up. He rested his forearm over his bent knee, and his opposite palm rested on the soft carpet fibers below. An excited grin creased his cheeks.

“And? What do you think?”

You couldn’t help but pause at the expression on Yonji’s face. His brows lacked tension and rested higher on his forehead than you recalled seeing them before. His eyes appeared more rounded as the skin around them was raised. You sat up a bit higher. 

“The clinker construction was cool to learn about, and the emphasis on ship flexibility actually makes a lot of sense. And given the history of Elbaf, I’m not surprised, but pretty amazed that there’s really nothing else out there like their crafting techniques… given that this book is accurate.” You absentmindedly took a second look at the front cover, wedging your fingers between the pages to keep your spot.

“I don’t think there’s a ship out there as suited for long voyages, and that stuff’s generations old.” Yonji crossed his legs. One of the books you had pulled from the shelves, the classic West Blue myth for young slaves that you were just discussing, sat closed and finished in his lap. 

Yonji, you had learned, could devour books. He read at a rate that made you envious, completely demolishing books that took you a few days at least to read in a matter of hours. Yonji had actually made a significant dent in the compilation he had tasked you to gather, and when he was done, he took great pride in handing it back to you to place back on the shelves.

He wasn’t above throwing them at you nor did he care about what you were doing at the moment he finished. But for as much as he seemed to like seeing you flinch as a hardcover novel slammed into the wood shelf next to your head, Yonji had taken to unceremoniously dropping them into your lap. 

This time was no different. Yonji stood as you continued to exchange words about ship construction before strolling over to where you sat and letting his latest book fall directly onto your thighs. He stood over you, and you wondered if he realized he was waiting as you continued your conversation. Yonji, you also discovered, was quite chatty.

—“Well, I think that has more to do with the narrow hull and shallow draft.”

“You think so?” you hummed.

You stood, placing the book on Elbaf to the side and picking up the one that Yonji had just dropped on you. Neither of you batted an eye as you began to move, climbing the set of stairs to your left as you continued. 

—“I think I would use a Knarr if I were to try that,” you considered, sliding the book back onto the shelf. 

A loud, deep ring resounded throughout the room. You instinctually looked toward the large clock below. Yonji, no matter how long he stayed on any given day, always left just a bit before dinner and made it clear that you were to not bother him until you were to retrieve him the next morning. That had been the most drastic change to your routine, and it was getting to be about that time. 

“Dinner already?” Yonji seemed to have the same thoughts as you. “Damn, I’m starving.” And just like every day before, Yonji strolled toward the doors with little regard, shouting some direction over his shoulder. “Work on the rest of that book. I want to talk about weapons, and you’re taking too goddamn long.”

Although, with Yonji gone, your nights weren’t completely free. After tidying up a few things following Yonji’s departure, you headed out of the southern tower, around the back, and down into the cellar doors leading to the servant’s quarters. 

The structural material was half that of your standard Germa building and half snail shell. An entire level that sprawled the length of the ship, in addition to a few pockets for storage, was completely furnished and liveable within the snail shell. Sometimes, when the host snail retreated into its shell, you could see its fleshy body move under the floor in the right light. The overall engineering of the “below deck” quarters escaped you, but the animal didn’t appear to ever be in pain. 

Now that Yonji was spending more time at the library, it became routine for you to retrieve the cook’s twins from downstairs. You’ve been distracting those children for years, and while you hadn’t intended on playing babysitter to the two little rascals that made your ship a bit more lively it allowed the cook time to prepare dinner a bit faster. From mealtime on, you were able to do what you pleased with your evenings. And given how isolated you usually were from the rest of the fleet— your snail typically trailed at the end of Lady Reiju’s brigade— you weren’t opposed to the occasional company.

When waiting on Yonji, you typically had to request that meals be reserved for you in the fridge, considering how late you’d get back to your own ship. Servants typically ate after the royal family anyway, but with your new routine, you could be on a more manageable cycle. 

“Send Walker upstairs when dinner’s ready,” you said to the cook, his two children in tow, ready for storytime upstairs. 

“Will do,” he replied, “The doors will be open, right?” You hummed with a nod.

“I usually keep them open. Prince Yonji is the one who locks them when he visits.” 

The cook’s face faltered for a moment as if he wanted to ask you something more, but he said nothing and returned to his cooking. You led the children upstairs, letting them run around on the carpet in the southern tower before they settled in for a story. 

You took the book from the table next to your chair, enjoying the breeze that blew from the window and out the doors of the southern tower.

***

On a random afternoon sometime in the following week, Yonji sifted through the piles on the table, placing a few books aside. You watched as he did, studying the passing book covers as they landed on top of each other with a soft thud. Most of them centered around spring islands, including local flora and fauna. 

“You really read this?” Yonji scoffed. One dark-spined book missed the pile and fell to the side. You picked it up, gazing at the important man depicted on the front. 

“Do you remember when people said he was going to change the world and abolish piracy?” you mused. 

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering to Yonji to gauge his reaction. You scanned him for approval every so often after speaking, your casual tone only becoming more common by the day. With the way he seemed to be changing his expectations at random, you were never sure when he might decide you were speaking out of term. 

He glanced down at you as you plucked the cover open to read the table of contents. His eyes didn’t linger.

“Politicians are full of hot air,” Yonji said, returning his focus back to his sorting. “Especially that guy.”

You breathed in steadily. You were in the clear for another day. 

“You know him?” you asked.

Yonji’s chest puffed in what might have been mistaken as a light laugh. He still didn’t look at you. 

“Yeah, I know him.” His brows jumped on his forehead as he muttered a vulgar name under his breath at the mere recollection of the politician. You studied the front of the autobiography again. “I can’t believe you read that dickwad’s whole life story. Since you’re here all day, I thought your taste was better than this.” 

Yonji tossed another book across the table. It hit another stack, causing all of them to tumble to the floor. You immediately stood to collect them. Yonji didn’t stop you. 

“The papers were talking about him a lot. With all his ties to the world government and his background as a Marine, I thought we’d be hearing more about him.” You gathered up the fallen books and placed them a bit more nearly on the table out of Yonji’s way. “Besides, Lord Judge likes keeping those kinds of texts at hand.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t much more than 200 pages of bragging. I’d be surprised if you learned anything useful.”

“I share a birthday with his wife?” you volunteered with a laugh. “But no, the stories were so convoluted, I couldn’t even keep them straight.” 

“Figures,” Yonji scoffed. 

You meandered over to your reading chair, trying to be discrete as your eyes scanned the book of fairy tales. The bookmark you placed was crooked. You glanced back toward Yonji, who continued to shuffle things around on the table. 

Yonji hadn’t been afraid to shove book recommendations into your arms when you had gone around the room before, and you saw him toying with the book at least twice before. And yet, this one had escaped the pile mounted on the table. 

Your hand jerked as you reached for the book, hesitating for a second before you ultimately decided to take it in your hands. 

You strolled back to the table, placing it with the others on the corner of the table. Yonji’s shuffling immediately stopped, and you failed to notice his narrow stare. Only when you sat down again did Yonji speak.

”What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was harsh, snapping through the tranquility of the room. Yonji’s eyes flickered from the cover to meet yours. His hands had stopped in the middle of what he was doing with a bulk of pages draped over his fingertips. 

“It was one I’ve been reading—“ You paused with the intention of ending your reasoning there, but Yonji remained silent and disapproving. “… Your Highness.” 

And suddenly, Yonji, as if he had remembered where he was and who he was, scowled severely at your transgression. The sobering reality hit you like a rock and the rapport you had been eased into evaporated at the sight of the sneer around Yonji’s nose. He scrambled the energy in the room in an instant, and suddenly, Yonji was a prince again, and you were a servant. 

“I thought Your Highness was interested—-“

“Don’t get a big head now just because I need something from this pit of a ship,” Yonji spat. “Put it back.” You expected Yonji to throw it, but instead, he rolled his eyes and sat down at the table with an annoyed but otherwise light sigh. 

Despite his short fuse, Yonji reached a simmer more often than he exploded into fits of rage. In fact, it was almost rare that Yonji grew genuinely angry as much as he seemed to go through bouts of pettiness. Frustration, annoyance, and imagined slights were all on the table, but at least according to the servants from Castle Niji, Yonji’s targeting was nowhere near as cruel as the Vinsmokes could be. 

But that wasn’t something you were necessarily eager to test.

A loud pounding suddenly sounded from the library doors. They jiggled against each other, creating a discordant sound as the latch shook violently. The yelling on the other side of the door made your heart sink. 

“What the hell?” Yonji frowned, watching as the doors continued to tremble before muffled commotion broke out in the hallway. He walked across the room with wide strides, and you couldn’t even hope to stop him before he flicked the latch and opened the doors wide. 

Golden light flooded from the chamber into the dark hallway, and just down the red carpet, a servant tried to wrangle the cook’s two children out of the southern tower. Their little voices reverberated off the stone, as did the harsh shushing that came from the servant.

“Why can’t we go inside?” the boy asked loudly.

You ran up just behind Yonji, eyes widening at the sight. The servant met your eye, his face frozen in petrification has he silently begged for help. Even in the prince’s presence, the children continued to squirm around. The boy kicked his feet in the air as the servant held him under one arm and the girl complained from where she was thrown over the servant’s shoulder. You glanced pointedly from Yonji back to the servant’s terrified gaze.

But to your surprise, Yonji only pivoted a foot on the carpet, turning to glance at the large clock that sat to the left of the chamber’s large window. He shoved his left thumb into his pocket as he tended to do. The servant took the opportunity to make a break for it with the children. 

“It’s dinnertime already?” Yonji wondered aloud, throwing his head back with a groan. “I didn’t even realize how damn hungry I was.” He sighed, barely turning his head as he spoke to you, “Don’t bother me for the rest of the night.” 

And just like that, Yonji began to walk down the hall without further commentary.

“What would you like me to do with the books, Prince Yonji?” 

“Leave ‘em.”

***

Yonji, despite receiving the same education as his brothers, wasn’t necessarily considered the brains of the operation. He liked destroying things through flashy displays of brute strength and was content to assume that role on the field. Not to say that Yonji wasn’t a capable commander of his forces, but when paired or grouped with any of his other siblings, Yonji was typically content with and expected to lay off the heavy thinking.

And so, when Yonji shoved Niji out of the way of the grand safe that was left for them to plunder in the ruins of what used to be a politician’s estate, saying, “I got this one,” the immediate assumption was that Yonji certainly did not have it. 

Yonji pinched the lock dial between his fingers, tongue poking out from his lips.

”You’re gonna break it!” 

“Got it!” The safe’s door clicked and then popped open, revealing riches for the taking inside. The royal treasure wasn’t explicitly on the table when Germa 66 was originally hired for the mass political assassinations, but what were the townsfolk going to do with it?

Niji gaped as Yonji began unloading the jewelry. 

“How the hell did you—?” Niji inspected the lock, even going so far as to run his fingers over the mechanisms. He had been working on cracking that code for nearly a half hour on top of bypassing every other security measure in the room. “Yonji. Yonji.”

Niji shook his brother by the arm, only to be shrugged off. Niji let out a low growl, wasting no time in shoulder-checking Yonji to shove him out of the way. He budged a little, but not nearly enough for Niji’s liking. The two of them immediately began fighting. Niji wouldn’t even get an answer to his question until they returned to Germa.

“Yonji guessed the code,” Ichiji said. He crossed his arms, giving nothing away by the blank expression on his face. The space between his brows twitched. Ichiji was certainly asking a question. “Yonji.” 

“Hey—” Yonji spoke with his mouth full, pointing a pea chip toward Ichiji, who stood in front of an equally unamused Niji. “Why’d you gotta say it like that?” he protested. Niji slapped him hard on the back of his head.

“Do you ever stop stuffing your face?”

Yonji reached an arm over the back of the couch he lounged on to push Niji away. Ichiji stood near the end of the short couch, his wrist just shy of brushing the back. 

“You just guessed the code,” he stated, the only one in the room remaining with the subject. 

“I thought birthdays were obvious passwords,” Yonji spoke with a mouthful of chips, shrugging as he sprawled out over the cushions. Ichiji and Niji exchanged glances above him, two sets of dark goggles meeting each other.

“Did you try the president’s birthday?” Ichiji asked.

“Of course not,” Niji spat. “What kind of moron do you take me for?”

“Not his birthday, his wife’s birthday,” Yonji corrected. One of his eyes squinted closed as he shuffled the last portion of his chips to the opening of the bag. Ichiji and Niji’s eyes met each other’s for a moment for a second time as a beat of silence overtook the room. Yonji didn’t notice.

“Uh,” Niji started with a crease in his brow. “How did you know her birthday?” 

The Vinsmokes were typically able to recall unhuman levels of information, and Germa 66’s wealth of knowledge was not easily challenged, but when it came to the string of assassinations they were hired for on Rivulette, the acting president’s wife’s birthday wasn’t on the briefing docket. 

“Did we get birthdays in the files?” Niji scratched at his undercut as he turned toward the eldest Vinsmoke son. 

“It was in that stupid autobiography,” Yonji spoke before Ichiji had a chance to answer. At this point, Yonji had exhausted his entire supply of pea chips. He flicked the bag around, trying to salvage any large crumbs, not nearly as interested in the conversation as his older brothers were. 

“You read that thing?” Niji sneered. 

“We do have a copy in the library,” Ichiji mused stoically. His eyes flickered down to Yonji from behind his dark glasses. “Is that why you’ve been spending so much time there?” A deeper judgment, along with a lengthy analysis, lurked somewhere in his words, but as was natural for Ichiji, he gave nothing away. 

Niji let out a bellowing laugh, the force of which was so great that his hands flew over his torso.

“You’re actually reading down there? I thought you were just going there for some ass!”

Ichiji said nothing, unnoticeably semi-deep in thought. Niji and Yonji continued to bicker in the background. 

***

Another day of Yonji on a job meant another day alone in the library. And while you couldn’t complain about not having to navigate bouncing between ships or waking Yonji up in the morning, you couldn’t help the tinge in your chest that missed the companionship. 

It was already a dismal day. The seas had been rough, and dark gray clouds loomed overhead. You spent most of your time securing the library in preparation for the rough seas. With the unique ability of Germa’s ships to occasionally sail vertically, every vessel had equipment made specifically for securing objects around the country. Most fixtures were already screwed into the floor, and a majority of the rooms held special, small, padded chambers for placing objects into that couldn’t be tethered. 

And considering the cold that was going around the archival ship, you did most of the preparation yourself. The indoors were unspokenly allotted as your territory by the greater staff, most of whom worked on the more physical aspects of piloting the ship. 

You had just finished organizing the books from the table into stability boxes when you heard the double doors to the southern tower open. The unmistakable clicking of the massive entrance was unmistakable and caused your head to snap up. You shut the lid to the box, crossing the room in an instant.

You had closed the main chamber doors to prepare for the storm, but you reached for the handles with a quiet giddiness and threw your whole weight into heaving them open.

“I thought you were going to be gone for another few days—”

Your words died on your lips the moment you looked up. Ichiji stood tall just outside the doorway, as unreadable as ever. But even so, you could feel his cold stare from behind his glasses. He regarded you with a slight frown.

“Were you expecting my brother?”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I can feel it. The hyperfixation slipping through my fingers. I'm determined to end this before I'm left with a half finished series that I have a hard time writing... like every other series I have... hahaha we will persevere indeed!!! (Sure, Wing, we'll end this when the anticipated length will be about 10+ chapters that are about 6-8k words each sure sure sure)

I was determined to not have this chapter end with another Yonji mission... like the first two, but alas we can't always get what we want.

I also put an obscene amount of time into making gifs, including editing this one together and Yonji's fucking earphones gave away all my hard work dammit.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

TEETH TO YOUR FLESH 🍓 VINSMOKE ICHIJI X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 6: BITING

🐙 requested by: Anonymous. Biting (Day 6) for Ichiji Vinsmoke and a female reader that’s his (promised) Fiancée since childhood days? ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. not that sexual, more on the "romantic" side. arranged marriage. biting. 🐙 wc: 1.2k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

“Auch! Mooooom, Ichiji bit me again!” you screamed.

Your mother snatched you from your little hand; a deadly stare made you silent almost instantly. The tears were kept at bay, as they just pooled in your eyelids. You shouldn’t, you mustn’t disobey nor piss off the Germa prince.

“Stop it, (Name). I told you; Ichiji-sama can do anything he likes! You will be killed if you disobey!”

You, by the time you were already born, were promised as future Germa 66’s king Ichiji as a wife. Somehow, to Judge himself and the rest of scientific crew, your potential was high enough to meet the future queen expectations -probably just to bare children even more modified than Ichiji himself-.

And the time flew with you having to put up with a kid that soon turned into a young man… You would lie if you said you didn’t miss him a bit when he became an adult; always from war to war, always training and studying… where was that kid that enjoyed messing with you? biting your arm all of a sudden, and even sometimes coming with tears in his eyes that nobody should see?

Yet, the time was close; the date set since forever, in which you would finally become his wife was around the corner. You were taken to his side of the Germa palace, were thousand maids started a month earlier to prepare you for your future husband…

“Miss (Name), Ichiji-sama will return today from a mission. You need to be ready for tonight!” one of the maids tells you.

Ah, that dinner you were told about a couple of months prior. Should you speak? Should you mention anything at all? What would happen tonight?

Dressed in red finest fabrics you stand in front of the mirror; your hair on a braid rests on your left shoulder and your skin exudes the sweet scent of chocolate and strawberry. You were specifically bathed in oils that smelt just like a sugary dessert.

Alone, with two guards behind you, you walk down an immense hall you remember from your childhood days. You were used to run from Ichiji’s biting torture; that kid had hyper fixated into using his teeth to play with you.

The opened doors of the dining room welcome you; a big table with only just two seats, one on each side, full of food you are sure two people can’t even remotely finish.

“Miss (Name), please take a sit. Prince Ichiji will arrive soon” a maître says, coming out of nowhere.

You nod and sit where you were indicated to do so. Nervous, you fidget with your fingers; It’s been a minute since you’ve seen him. Perhaps it’s been two minutes in total silence, but you felt it like an eternity until a warm, heavy hand slid through your shoulder and back.

“Sorry for the delay” his sweet voice, sweeter than he looks, reverberated inside you.

Your stiffened back remained that way as your eyes followed him walking to his seat. Wearing his prince attire, and not his Germa suit, Ichiji Vinsmoke had the appearance of prince charming – a very severe, not so friendly, and smoking hot prince charming-.

“Your hair has gotten a lot longer, hasn’t it?” he observes, once he gets comfortable. Ichiji acts a lot different that his brothers, he is a true royal. Manners are important if he wish to be the next King of these lands.

You take your eyes from the silver plate in front of you, to a swift look at him before answering. Cheeks on fire; when has he ever paid attention to your hair?

“I think so, Ichiji-sama… is it ok for you? or should I cut it?” you ask, grabbing the braid in between your hands.

Ichiji, taken aback, took some time before taking his dark cherry glasses off. For the first time in years, you are able to see his blue eyes again. And despite them being framed by an annoying frown, you realized that deep inside he is still a kid.

“Should a future queen ask such nonsense? Who am I to decide the length of your hair?” he asks, standing up and slapping the table. You, startled, blink a few times before freezing completely. Of course you must ask, you were taught you should obey him no matter what since the day you were born.

Ichiji’s annoyance grows the more you keep silent; he walks towards you, with his white cape flaming as he moves.

His hand, covered in little cuts he won’t admit he has from past battles, strongly takes the braid from your hands to inspect it.

“I don’t care how long your hair gets as long as it can be moved out of the way” he mutters, pulling so softly from it to let you know you should stand up.

The prince throws your braid off, letting it fall on your back and his hand land on your mandible. Just a finger there, and his thumb so close to your lips, seems enough to leave you breathless. Ichiji smirks; slowly, he moves your head to the side to expose your neck and coming close he simply murmurs some more words before attacking your flesh with sharp teeth…

“I don’t mind your hair, I don’t mind your clothes… MY only order is to let me enjoy your flesh, (Name)... and you smell, as always, so deliciously~”

You swallow, what order? If there isn’t anything you wish the most right now than him eating you alive?

He carves his teeth deep into your skin; marking your neck so that everybody knows Ichiji Vinsmoke’s future wife is only his.

You moan to his first attack, making the man topping you to slightly stop; that sweet whimper caused things to his insides he cannot even describe. His hands, in response, passed from your waist to your thighs, lifting you up to finally deposit you on the table. The food Scattered all around, he didn’t care and nor did you.

He rips the fine strings of fabric that were holding your dress up; he wants to enjoy your flesh, again, he doesn’t even care about the clothes.

“You’ve grown up…” he forgets, for a moment, that dominant role to become a simple man amazed by the beauty of your chest.

“You have as well…” you murmur, remembering once when you were innocent teenagers trying to discover what human anatomy looked like naked.

He smiles, this time so genuinely it almost scares you… Ichiji shouldn’t have feelings, yet you know he always hid them.

“Come’ere” he laughs, attacking your breasts with those sharp fangs you are so pleased to feel carving marks again… this time as adults, not innocently but so lustfully, so sinfully…

Slowly, your back finally meets the table. Ichiji falls on top of you, with his hands on each side of your shoulders and his hair slowly losing the hairdo; he looks so hot with his crimson hair down.

“I am dying to fuck you” he states, so needy. “Fuck me, then…” you whisper, with cheeks on fire and your nails carved on his back.

His eyes wander yours; his lips separate…

“You know I shouldn’t…” “I know…”

He can’t. He has it forbidden. Cruel rule imposed by his father, the King. He shouldn’t have intercourse with his wife if not before she’s been taken to the lab… exactly like his mother.

“Don’t tell anybody…” “I promise, I won’t…”

Taglist of amazing babes: @terrabear2003 @eyes-ofhell @cokou @seoul-is-a-dream @tinydonkeysforlife @appalost @themessedupsonata @adamsfanficstash @votaeto @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 @anothersoulless 💖🍓

[geckogumi-exe]

Currently having an aneurism over sanji and his brothers (kinda maybe if i remember how to count correctly in japanese) are numbered 1 through 4

[likethelastwoman]

Did you know the Vinsmokes took Caesar Clown out of Whole Cake Island, and he and Judge formed an alliance?

Here's the whole story!!!

(It also includes the story of the birth and doom of the MAD labs)

(If you want to know how the Vinsmoked rescued Caesar, part 1 here.)

[silkentine]

I drew this! and it was featured on chapter 22 of To Be Warm in the Cold by @okiedoketm

I went a little bonkers with the lighting and color filters hehe, I get carried away when I'm having fun! I was trying to emulate an anime screenshot look, I hope that came across. 🤪 I love these characters and this story and I'm so lucky that I get to draw this for everyone lol 💗

[akwolfgrl]

I've had an idea where the drug/poison sora took worked on all four of the brothers to different degrees. Sanji is still cannon for the most part. Judge didn't notice that the others weren't right becase in comparison they were much better then Sanji. So his brothers still beat him and berate him for his failures.

When Sanji is locked in the dungeon Judge began to realize as the training begins to intensify that the other three are not up to his standards and he begins to hurt them as well.

Reiju trys to be a good big sister and gets them all out by setting fire to labs and stealing the raid suits. They all escape into the east blue going thire spreat ways to make it harder for Judge to find them.

Sanji still hops on the Orbit and meets Zeff.

Reiju bounces between her younger siblings never staying in one place. Latter they all stay in contact via Den den and letters. Sanji prefers not to see his brothers and only has a long distance relationship with them.

WCI all the siblings show up to help Sanji and to take thire revenge on Judge. After Sanji leaves they kill him.

[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.

[lunar-eclipse-bunnies]

apparently, it does take me 2 months per chapter.

i hope this lived up to your expectations! see you in another 2 months

[kukurykunapatyku]

[I.D.: Drawing of Sabo, Koala and Vinsmoke Ichiji from One Piece inside a wooden shack, framed like a photo. Also a random guy I made up just for this: he has short hair, is tied with rope to the ceiling and has wide-open eyes. He's not important. Koala is in the front, she's grinning with closed eyes and posing her right hand in victory sign. Her left hand and legs are out of frame, she's the one making the photo. She's wearing pink shirt with white frills and her bordo hat with goggles. Yonji is behind her, crouched down with his face in his hands. He,s wearing white t-shirt and brown trousers. Sabo is on the left, making thumbs up in front of the tied guy, part of his right leg is out of frame. He has wide smile, left side of his face is covered in scar tissue. He's wearing grey boots, blue shirt with white cravat, light blue pants and black coat. On the floor next to him lays empty bucket, water spilling out of it. /End I.D.]

Vinsmoke shipping week day 2: First date / Detective x Criminal

Say cheese!

Does going on a mission and waterboarding a guy for informations count as first date? I say yes. Turns out being an evil mercenary for most of your life doesn't necesssery prepare you to the kind of stuff revolutionaries do. Well, people learn all their life!

🔽Fic under readmore🔽 also on Ao3

"Everyone, say cheese!"

Koala, unconcerned that only Sabo followed her instruction, lifted the camera higher and put her hand in victory sign, smiling widely. Careful not to drop it, she pushed the button and a few seconds later the polaroid came out. She took it to fully appreciate the mess before her, forever immortalized on film.

Sabo was smiling from ear to ear and putting both his thumbs up, not caring that spilled water was pulling under his boots. In contrast, Yonji crouched down, put his head in hands and looked like he would prefer to be anywhere else.

The captured guard dangling from the ceiling looked mostly confused, if a little less fearful for his life. Well, that'll need to be corrected.

"Let me seeeee," Sabo whined next to her ear. Still smiling, she pushed his head away without any remorse.

"It's mine now, get your own."

"Oh came on, it's not fair! I lost my camera at the base, you know that!"

"I found it and put it on your desk."

His head snapped. "What? Where?!"

"Next to the paperwork from last week." At his blank stare she added: "You know, the one you were supposed to look over and check if everything's alright before we left two days ago?"

Too late to avoid the trap, Sabo did the only smart thing and changed the subject.

"Man, who's the real red one in your family, your brother or you? Maybe we should call you tomato instead of onion." He left her side and picked up now-empty bucket. "It's been a while since I've seen someone fumble interrogation this badly. Isn't a member of the 'legendary mercenary army' supposed be professional in this things?"

Yonji raised his head, his cheeks blooming red.

"I thought when you're waterboarding someone you lift the water up, not pull the guy down. That's why I used stronger knot here." He pointed at the hook the rope was connected to. "How was I supposed to know it's the other way around!"

"Oh, I was wondering about that," Koala interjected. "Weird way to tie it."

"Why didn't you say anything?" he groaned.

She shrugged. "I thought it was some weird Germa way. People learn all their life."

"Well, I just thought it was funny," said Sabo, before focusing on Yonji again. "Wait, with all the war crimes* under your belt, you never waterboarded anyone before?"

Yonji cringed and sunk his head.

"We weren't tasked with capturing people that often, much less interrogate them. Our employers usually wanted to do that themselves. Confident information and all that," he mumbled from behind his hands. He curled further, which was honestly impressive considering his size. Like a mastiff trying to fit inside the cat basket. She reached her hand to pat his hair.

"There there, it wasn't that bad for the first time."

"We won't tell a soul, promise," Sabo lied. "But I can't talk for this one." He gripped the rope and grinned at their guest. "Are you a talker, sir?"

The prisoner gulped at being in the spotlight again and furiously shook his head.

"No? Oh my, that's so unlucky! If you were a talker, this could go a lot faster," Sabo pouted. "As you can see, my friend over there spilled all the water for you. Which means one of two things; either you'll make it easier for all of us and answer a few questions, or-" He sighed dramatically. "We will have to improvise with what we got. And it's going to be bloody shame if you don't last to the end of it." He flashed him a wide smile with way too much teeth.

Fascinating, Koala thought. I didn't know you can lose all the blood in your face while hanging upside down.

-

Koala plopped on the bench between her boys, handing each an ice-cream cone.

Yonji took his and stared at it for a while before turning to smile at them.

"Is this what you guys usually do on missions? I could get used to it."

Koala scratched her neck. "Well, not exactly usually, but sometimes it goes like that. It's a lot less threatening and a lot more running and sneaking around on most days. With occasional explosion or two." She side-eyed Sabo, who looked annoyingly unrepentant.

"Since it's the first time you were going with us, we picked something more up your line." Sabo licked his ice-cream. "Of course, if we knew how much you'll screw it up, we would have given you something different to fuck."

Koala whacked him in the back of the head.

"We agreed not to talk about this anymore! You made fun of him enough already!" She looked back at Yonji. "And why are you blushing!"

"You really are a tomato!"

"Argh, I swear..." Koala huffed and went back to her food. "Why do I even bother."

This just get her twin snickers from the sides. She rolled her eyes but smiled. It went well all things considered. Their captive's tongue seemed to loosen a lot once he realized that everyone in the room was clinically insane, which she was more than happy to contribute to, so the mission went smoothly afterwards.

"One thing i don't understand," she broke the silence. "Why did that guy want your autograph? You don't even have a wanted poster."

"Oh, it's probably because my family is technically main villains of a surprisingly popular vintage comic strip from North Blue. I'm the green one."

Koala nodded.

"Yeah, that makes- You're WHAT?!"

*I apologize for insinuating One Piece world has anything like Geneva convention. It does not.

[three-milkz]

Every time I remember this scene, I suffer and think. Reiju doesn't react, doesn't laugh at Pudding's mockery, so I say, what if they were Sanji's brothers instead?

I have several options.

The first, only Niji and Yonji laugh. Especially Niji.Second, only Niji laughs.Third, no one laughs.

I personally think that 24ji is the type of person who picks on Sanji and makes fun of him, but if someone else does it, it bothers them. Something like "don't call my idiot an idiot."

Ichiji is too deadpan and I don't remember him ever laughing in WCI. Of all the brothers, Ichiji is the one who shows the most concern for Sanji in his own way, so no, he wouldn't make fun of Sanji with Pudding, he is serious all the time.

Niji, on his side, would fight with Pudding, tell her that only he can call Sanji out for the failure that he is. You know, jealous and tsundere attitude.

And Yonji, according to the interactions he had with Sanji or in general when his family doesn't see him, acts differently with his older brother. When he showed him the clones he probably just wanted a family activity between brothers (it went wrong). I dare say that Yonji somehow misses Sanji, so Yonji would make a big fuss telling Pudding: "It doesn't matter if you're pretty, don't call my brother that way."

[wing-ed-thing]

... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part IV

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 5k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Name-Calling, Language, Reader Falls First, Yonji Falls Harder, Choking, Mild Physical Violence

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Notes: Yonji my love how i've missed you so

You took a step back in surprise.

“How may I assist you, Master Ichiji?” You immediately bowed. 

Ichiji’s eyes made a sweep across the library before settling on you. He stepped forward, and you swiftly moved out of his way, pivoting to the side. But Ichiji positioned himself in front of you, staring forward before regarding you with the slightest turn of his head. 

His hand shot out instantly, grabbing the underside of your chin with his middle and index finger clutching one side of your jaw while his thumb dug into your face. Ichiji held you, tilting your face from one side to the other. 

“I came to see what the fuss was about.” His touch was harsh, but he wordlessly let you go to wander around the chamber. 

Ichiji strolled over to the stability cases first. He said nothing as he opened the one you had just closed, studying the books inside as intently as he had studied your face. Ichiji glanced at the shelves to his left, noting the gaps in what should have been a fully stocked collection. 

“Had you been ordered to perform an overhaul?” he hummed for as much as Ichiji could hum. He held the lid ajar with the heavy wooden lip resting between his knuckles like the weight was lighter than air. 

“No, Master Ichiji,” you answered, crossing the room to stand closer. “Master Yonji requested that these titles be reserved—”

“Prince Yonji.” Ichiji was quick and stern in his correction. You couldn’t help but blink in confusion as you tried to rapidly piece together what Ichiji was getting at. You knew the longer you didn’t understand, the more annoyed and volatile Ichiji would become. That was a rule of thumb for any of the princes. But Ichiji didn’t leave you to your thoughts for longer than a second. “That is what you call him.” 

You tried not to waver.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you confirmed. 

“Why?” The question shot from Ichiji’s lips like an accusation. 

Your mouth went dry. This hadn’t been the first time a prince had come into your humble workspace to make demands as he tried to reach some undisclosed point. It hadn’t even been the first time that week. Ichiji knelt to sift through a few of the titles.

“It is a proper form of address,” you offered. Ichiji remained quiet as he moved the books around. He didn’t have to say anything for you to understand that he was not satisfied with your answer. “And it is what Master Y— Prince Yonji prefers.”

Many of Germa’s soldiers trained closely with the three princes, and with their enhanced capabilities and battle-tailored minds, combatant citizens learned much from the royal family. And with most of the kingdom’s population consisting of soldiers, the title “Master” became the most common form of address when speaking of or to any of the Vinsmoke children. 

“I see.” Ichiji rose, letting the container lid slam closed with a bang. The noise pulled an involuntary jerk from your shoulders. Ichiji stood perfectly still. You couldn’t see the way his eyes carefully scanned the room. Ichiji pivoted on his heel, making for the set of stairs on the left-hand side of the chamber. 

You trailed behind him, unsure if he was expecting you to follow. Whether he wanted you to or not, Ichiji didn’t speak a word as he made his way up the velvet-carpeted steps. 

He took his time analyzing the shelves. Unlike Yonji, who appeared to enjoy touching any text that remotely stuck out to him, Ichiji clasped his hands behind his back to peruse the balcony with an eerie quietness. His face never changed from its usual, neutral frown as he slowly made his way around the room, stopping frequently as he scrutinized the spaces between books.

Yonji was expressive by comparison, although this wasn’t to say much, considering that he wore his reactions on his sleeve more often than not.  But even despite Yonji’s frequent brow jumps, lip dips, and nose scrunching, it wasn’t much of an observation to say that anyone was more expressive than Ichiji. 

He walked around the balcony, to the opposite end and down the right-hand set of stairs. Ichiji’s gait was firm and poised, and he held himself in such a way that somehow commanded authority over the room without him even having to speak a word. And yet, you could hardly hear his steps as he seemed to glide across the carpet. 

You lingered as Ichiji finally reached the bottom level again, placing him near your typical reading chair. You trailed tentatively behind with eyes averted to the door, posture upright, and ready to serve however Ichiji saw fit. You were, after all, still the library attendant for the whole Germa Kingdom. 

You hardly noticed how Ichiji lingered by the window. 

“Did my brother request this?” 

You had looked away from him for a second, and in the next moment, Ichiji had the book of fairy tales from all four blues clutched in his hand. He held it with the spine facing him as he continued to frown. 

“No, Prince Yonji did not.”

“A bit too old to be reading children’s books, aren’t we?” Ichiji pivoted a foot to face you. The light from the window behind him shrouded Ichiji in a blinding glow. It wasn’t golden or perfectly framed, but an overwhelming convergence of sunbeams that threw off the saturation of his face. “I’m talking to you, book roach.”

“Yes, Master Ichiji. I agree.” You dared not mention the children.

The sun only became more blinding as Ichiji walked toward you, letting the white light drip over his shoulder and into your eyes. For a moment, the sunbeams hit the back of Ichiji’s sunglasses just right, allowing you to see through the opaque lenses and straight into his piercing gaze.

His hand shot out instantly, grabbing you by both cheeks in an iron vice-grip. The webbing between his index finger and thumb sat just under your nose. Ichiji’s motion didn’t accommodate your height as he almost seemed to lift you, causing your knees to buckle. Your hands instinctively shot to his wrist. 

Ichiji pulled you in close while you squirmed in his grasp. You could feel his steady breaths against your cheek as he tilted his head to the side as a wild animal would when stalking prey. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will your body to release his arm. You knew the longer you touched him, the more whatever he was going to do next would hurt. But every adrenaline-fueled fiber of your being was held mercilessly at the will of your racing chest. Only the tips of your shoes touched the floor.

“I didn’t understand, and I can’t say I do now.” Ichiji’s attention moved from your face to the trembling fingers that creased the fabric of his sleeve. He found your movements thoughtless, caught somewhere between fighting him and being too fearful to. The very sight made him scowl. He would have preferred if you fought. “I can see the novelty in a soft, fragile thing like you. Still, I struggle to see what's truly captivating beyond that.”

He released you, letting you crumple to the floor at his feet.

“Dispose of this.” Ichiji dropped the book of fairy tales on your head as he brushed past you, leaving a surprisingly forceful breeze in his wake with his fast pace. “Germa doesn’t need this in the library.” 

With a few long strides to the doors, Ichiji was gone.

***

The fleet was supposed to sail into the storm overnight. The water was beginning to grow the slightest bit choppy by the time evening rolled around, but the bobbing of the ships was bearable. And with your responsibilities on your snail finished, your evening free, and the central kitchen nearby, you decided to visit Cosette. 

It was probably for the best, considering that most of the domestic staff was holed up below deck, trying to fight the cold that was making the rounds on your ship. The twins were hit extra hard, and between making remedial foods for everyone else, the cook had his hands full with the children. 

The central kitchen was sending out dessert by the time you arrived. You side-stepped a servant bringing out some sort of ice cream dish before making your way inside the ever-bustling kitchen. 

Cosette did a double-take as you entered, eyes flickering from her hand-whipped whipped cream before a wide grin overtook her lips. Her head tilted to the side with a raise of her brows and a pucker of her lips. Her rapid whisking didn’t cease for a second. You shrugged, making a little dance out of the playful expressions you silently made at her from across the kitchen. 

“Give me just a moment,” she told you with incoherent hand motions. 

Cosette moved gracefully and confidently throughout the kitchen as she placed the finishing touches on the desserts, which were rapidly being sent out the door. They passed by you, each looking even more elegant and delicious than the last.

You were content to wait out of the way as Cosette projected orders across the kitchen. Even her commands were soft despite their sternness, and everything around you seemed to move at lightning speed. 

Even as service was beginning to wrap up, it was difficult to cross the room. As soon as the last plate left through the doors, clean-up began. You managed to make your way to the opposite end and slid onto a stool parallel with a line of frosted-glass windows. Just below was a wooden counter that stretched across the length of the wall. A protrusion from the counter sat in front of you with another stool on the other side.

Gentle raindrops pitter-pattered against the outside the windows as the ship bobbed gently on the waves. You leaned an elbow on the wooden surface in front of you, turning your head to gaze at how the water droplets rolled down the nearly opaque glass. 

When Cosette finally joined you, she all but slammed her side into the counter, reaching across the tiny table to place a packed plate in front of you. Her haphazard movements caused the plate to spin, clattering against the hard surface below. Cosette let out a loud sigh. She had a bit of whipped cream in her hair. 

“It’s been a day,” she breathed, letting her head fall back.

“I couldn’t tell,” you mused, plucking a spoon from a basket of utensils on the counter behind you. Kitchen workers passed you, continuing to scurry about with dirty plates and cooking instruments.

“It’s always busy when the kingdom sails together like this.” Cosette breathed another heavy sigh, letting her forearms and head collapse on the table. She just barely missed slamming her forehead into the plate. Cosette reached blindly across the wood surface, finding your free hand and giving it a few fatigued taps. You dug into your food. Cosette could always seem to whip something up miraculously fast. “No twins tonight?”

You shook your head.

“My whole crew is getting sick. I’ve been kinda living in the southern library.”

“When are you not?” Cosette hooked her chin over her wrist. She let out another puff of air, letting her bangs fly over her forehead. Her head rolled to the crook of her folded elbow. “You’ve been pretty busy for a few months now.”

“Not any more than usual.”

Cosette shot up, plopping her cheek in her palm as she leaned over the table. Her eyes narrowed with a round pout. Commentary mounted on your tongue, and with every unspoken thought, her bottom lip crunched into her top one. Your name left her mouth like a gentle scold.

“Not any more than you,” you corrected with a laugh. The sound seemed to melt Cosette’s playfully cross demeanor.

“No prince tonight either?” The words spilled from her with a casualness you weren’t used to. For some reason, the question made your spoon stop on your plate.  

“Prince Yonji is out of the country. I think he will be for a few days.” you started, not noticing the slight, confused scrunching of Cosette’s face. Her head tilted acutely to the side, causing a few strands of her bangs to brush across her forehead. “And he doesn’t like when I disturb his evenings anyway.” 

“Oh,” Cosette mused with some thought and a few nods, withdrawing her touch as she sat up straight. But even with her upright posture, her cheek found her palm again, this time with her elbow resting on the counter to her left. She looked to the side toward the frosted glass window. “That’s odd.”

“What?” 

“Well, Master Yonji and Mistress Reiju returned a few hours ago. I’m back here for most of the day, so I can’t say I know this for certain, but—” 

You were too focused on Cosette and your food to notice the skidding outside the kitchen doors. Being quite the sight for royalty to be meandering aimlessly around the servants’ corridors, Yonji created quite the ruckus in the halls outside in the hall. 

He moved through them quickly, unsure where he was going until he caught a glimpse of you through the circular windows on the double kitchen doors. Yonji skidded to a halt, sliding an impressive distance on his heels before bursting through the doors with enough force to make them slam against the adjacent walls.

A small hoard of servants followed him, fuzzing over him and deeply concerned about what had upset him so much that he brought himself to the servants' corridors. Despite their volley of questions, Yonji ignored every probing servant as his gaze shot past every member of the stupified kitchen staff to where you sat with Cosette across the room.

His eyes were wide and round, and his lips parted as if he wanted to yell something across the halted kitchen. But the words stalled in his throat, and after a few moments of hesitant air, Yonji’s teeth reluctantly clenched.

The entirety of the servant’s halls stilled, with the staff mixed between hiding in storage closets and the braver of the group gathering near the kitchen to see what the commotion was about. After all, a member of the royal family remotely stepping foot in any servant territory was unheard of. And while Mistress Reiju appeared to be least likely to stick up her nose due to her status, even she wasn’t one to enter to step foot in the winding halls either.

All the kitchen staff immediately stopped in their tracks and bowed. Cosette jumped to her feet, racing across the floor faster than you could blink to bow deeply at the waist in front of Yonji. 

“Master Yonji!” she exclaimed. “How might I be of service to Your Highness?”

Despite her swiftness, Cosette was just as nervous as the rest of the kitchen. You could see it in the way she seemed to tremble. You didn’t have to see her eyes to know they were clenched shut. 

Yours were as well. You had dismounted from your stool to bow deeply along with the rest of the staff. As a civilian servant, there were no rules about which parts of the kingdom you were to remain in. You weren’t a soldier, after all, and so as long as your duties were done in the library and you weren’t ordered elsewhere, you had no post to adhere to.

Still, your thoughts weren’t far from the rest of the staff in the corridors. A member of the royal family coming to the main kitchen personally certainly meant little good. The lower you held your head, the better… at least you had thought so. 

You hardly noticed as Yonji pushed past Cosette, almost knocking her to the ground as he ignored her question. It only took him a few powerful strides until he crossed the kitchen, and it wasn’t until Yonji’s shadow had dwarfed you that you knew no amount of hiding your face could get you out of this one. You just weren’t quite sure what you had done.

He stood there for a moment, wordless. You couldn’t see his face to deduce what he was thinking, although you didn’t believe you were all that good at reading Yonji’s face to begin with. 

“How might I serve you, Prince Yonji?” you hummed. 

He frowned above you.

“Did I ask you to speak?” he gritted. Yonji made an irritated wave in the air, already rushing you to obey a command he had yet to give. “Get up. Up.”

You stood up straight. You had expected Yonji’s usual disdainful scowl, but instead, you were greeted with one of the deepest frowns you had ever recalled seeing him wear. His eyes were narrowed as he gazed down at you. The skin of his forehead between his brows twitched. Slowly, Yonji’s lips parted to reveal tightly clenched teeth.

“Why aren’t you in the library?”

“All of my duties were completed for the night, Prince Yonji—”

“A library attendant should be in the library!” He hardly let you finish before grabbing you by the arm. Yonji shoved you toward the exit, trailing closely behind you like a herding dog. 

He kept a hand splayed out in the center of your back as he corralled you forward. You practically jogged to keep up with the pace Yonji pushed you, moving quickly past Cosette and the rest of the kitchen staff. 

The double doors swung open, hitting the opposite walls in the hallway of the servant’s corridors, just like when Yonji came in. Castle staff scattered, and if the gathered didn’t run to hide, they stuck to the walls to allow you and Yonji to pass. 

Pity was by far the most common expression you saw as you passed. It was a look that was glanced at you for a fraction of a second, almost as if slipping it to you as consolation for what was perceived as a poor fate. You felt as if you were being patted on the shoulder for taking a penalty for the staff as a whole, for keeping the attention of one Germa prince meant lower chances for anyone else to be targeted.

But for the pity that flashed across the lowered faces you saw, a hidden disgust lurked. You were apparently the one who brought Yonji to these halls and, in turn, a potential threat to people just trying to do their jobs, as some might see it. You could see it in a few narrowed eyes, and while no one envied your position, you knew that Yonji’s firm touch on your back was more than enough to make imaginations run wild. 

You walked in front of him, which was unheard of for servants to do. Despite the initial shock that dragged your feet when you were in the kitchen, the demanding pressure between your shoulder blades wasn’t as needed as Yonji seemed to think. You had no reason to run, and as Yonji veered you sharply into a dead end, it became clear that he knew little about where you were going. 

“Prince Yonji?” you questioned.

“What?” he snapped, glancing at you with a snarl. His eyes searched the corridor, and his head swiveled angrily like a trapped animal. The grip on the back of your clothes grew tighter, scrunching the cloth into a ball.

“The exit is this way,” you hummed, accenting your words with a point. And for as tense and anxious as the entire hall of servants was from where they bowed behind you, you didn’t appear to have any qualms with being pulled from the kitchen. “I can show you.”

Yonji took a breath in as he released his grip. The fabric under his fingers remained partially wrinkled. 

“Well, go on then,” he grumbled, “I don’t have all day.”

Yonji gestured absentmindedly down the hall, waiting for you to lead the way. You started in the right direction, with Yonji trailing after you. 

***

The water was beginning to get choppy outside. The snails were starting to sway under your feet, and while Yonji had gotten his sea legs long before you ever did, the pace you walked made you think you might tumble down at any second. You hardly had the time to glimpse the greying sky above and the dark clouds in the distance. Your main goal was getting inside; the last thing you wanted was to be swept off deck by a wave. 

When you arrived at the southern tower, you closed the large, double doors with great effort. The wind fought you the entire way, and despite his superior strength, Yonji offered you no aid in closing the weather doors. Instead, he already made his way into the main chamber of the library. A metal apparatus had already been closed over the windows, protecting the glass from the harsh elements outside and leaving the chamber somewhat smaller without the view. 

You didn’t like the electric bulbs that glowed around the room. They weren’t consistent in color, illuminating the chamber in a light that felt sterile and yet dingy at the same time. Yonji stood in the center of the room, shadows cast on him, almost appearing disjointed and random due to the inconsistent lighting. 

He turned to you when you entered. The two doors to the library were the second set you had to tussle with. While they weren’t floor-to-ceiling like the one leading into the southern tower, they were by no means short and extended to where the balcony started. With the waves becoming increasingly violent, they either needed to be tethered open or bolted shut. You tried to bolt them shut.

Yonji scanned the chamber, pouring over the rows of locked-away books. For the first time in a few weeks, the main wooden table was completely clear.

“Isn’t there something you usually do around this time?” Yonji asked. It sounded like a question he had been thinking about for several moments, but with your battle with the door, you hardly registered him speaking.

One of the doors slammed shut with the ship's rocking, nearly taking one of your fingers off as it did. You tried to hold it in place as you attempted to corral the other one. Both doors were more than twice your height and difficult to pin down with the movement of the sea below.

“All of my duties are usually done before supper, Prince Yonji.”

You managed to pull the other door closed. You held both doors by their simple handles, waiting to catch your breath before you began on the locks. They wobbled and ripped, threatening to fling you away. 

“Not one of your duties,” he huffed, rummaging through one of the storm boxes somewhere behind you. He spoke with an added gruffness as if he thought you were dodging his unspoken question on purpose. 

By the time you managed to lock both doors, Yonji had performed a complete search of the boxes that held the books from the table. You nearly keeled over, huffing from exhaustion as Yonji stood over you with crossed arms. 

“I suppose I usually do some reading before dinner—”

“What kind of library attendant are you?” He had already moved on to another topic. Yonji did so often as his brain fired and processed at a rate much higher than the average person, leaving you to connect the dots to determine what he was talking about. “Can’t even keep your shit straight.”

“I apologize for my performance not being up to standard.” You bowed.

“Which one of ‘em came down here?” 

You blinked at him; your mental scramble to piece together what he was asking you made your brain fuzzier than his actual question.

“Master Ichiji,” you answered.

“Figures,” Yonji grumbled. The ship continued to rock. You shifted your weight, making minute changes to your stance as the floor bobbed. Yonji turned to you, a hand splayed over his jaw. The knuckle of his index finger just barely touched his bottom lip. “What did he want?”

His four-word sentence was devoid of his usual bitterness for how he spoke. You would have thought Yonji’s words sounded tentative if you hadn't known better. A vein in his temple twitched as he stared off somewhere into the library chamber. The waves outside didn’t appear to affect him at all.

The memory of Ichiji flashed across your mind, and even just the vision of his cold scowl made you consider your response carefully. The truth played on your lips.

“Master Ichiji came to inspect both myself and the library. He appeared to be displeased with how much time you’ve been spending here,” you considered saying but ultimately decided that perhaps such terms sounded charged. While you believed you knew Yonji decently well, you weren’t confident in making any assumptions about his relationships with his brothers. You hardly wanted to open yourself up to scrutinization or mistakenly place yourself in a position higher than you were. 

You also knew better than to hide things from Yonji.

“I believe that Master Ichiji came to review both the library and my performance,” you offered. It was technically accurate. After all, you weren’t exactly sure why Ichiji had come to begin with.

“A what? I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Yonji spat rudely, wearing his confusion on the scrunched-up expression he wore. “What was it? Orderd by our dad or something?”

“Master Ichiji did not mention anything concerning Lord Judge,” you said. Yonji let out a great huff. 

“Pretentious dickwad,” you heard him mutter before he turned to face you. His arms had coiled over his chest once again. “What did he do?” You almost blinked at the question.

“Little more than a simple walkthrough,” you answered, glancing off toward the floor. You didn’t think mentioning Ichiji’s apparent disdain toward you was worth mentioning. It came with too many assumptions, and that was assuming Yonji cared about those things at all. “Master Ichiji didn’t say much about it.” Yonji frowned.

“A bit simple for a formal review.” The vein in his forehead twitched again. You couldn’t help but wonder why Yonji was so fixated on his brother’s visit. While underutilized, the royal library was intended as a resource for the royal family. “If he asked you to reorganize everything in reverse alphabetical order and then put it back into alphabetical order, let me tell ya that you can ignore that under my orders.”

Your breath almost stalled in your throat. Was that something they had wanted you to do?

“Master Ichiji only requested that a single book be removed from the library.” Your statement flooded the room, filling the space in the chamber from the floor to the high ceiling. Yonji paused. His eyes darted from your reading chair and back to you.

“And did you?” He glanced at you, meeting your eye in a second with narrowed ones of his own.

“Of course, Prince Yonji.” You nodded, but your affirmation did nothing in the face of Yonji’s deep scowl. 

You stood, frozen in one place, as Yonji stalked toward you. The ship continued to waver on the waves, making it difficult to keep your balance and focus. But as he grew closer, Yonji’s vexed grimace started to slowly morph into a sinister smile. His eyes widened slightly, as did yours.

“If it were between my word and my brother’s word, who would you listen to?” he asked slowly. Yonji shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, taking a step just an inch too close before stopping. He tilted his head to the side. “Me? Or Ichiji?”

The doors to the chamber rattled just a step behind you. Yonji had cornered you with a calculated amount of space to spare, an illusion of escape even if you wanted to. Like all the pointed questions he asked, you knew Yonji had a correct answer in mind. Although there was right in the eyes of Germa, there was right in the eyes of Yonji.

“Prince Yonji, you know my loyalty lies with the Germa kingdom. I would never refuse a member of the royal family.” Yonji’s nose scrunched into a familiar snarl that melted into the corner of his lip. He was giving you an opportunity to remedy your answer. “Your Highness has spent much time here and knows this library intimately. I would readily trust your discretion, Prince Yonji.”

Yonji let out a single chuckle which bounced his chest with tentative amusement. He stared at you, judging you incredulously. 

“If I gave you an order, and Ichiji told you the opposite, you would obey me.” It was a question as much as it was a boast, like a child confirming superiority over the playground. Yonji leaned down to further lord his smug expression over you. “You’d sideline the eldest Vinsmoke prince just like that. Careful, that sounds a little treasonous to me.”

He liked to lead, asking pointed questions to drag you through carefully set-up hoops until you found yourself stuck. It took time to separate him from the game and an even greater effort to remind yourself that, for his words, Yonji was greatly pleased. He was pleased for the same reason he preferred you call him Prince Yonji.

“I have served as your personal aid for quite some time, and out of everyone in the royal family, you have spent the most time here by far. I would argue that myself and this place are at your disposal.”

“Ha! Shut up. You’re so annoying.” Yonji muscled you out of the way and made short work of the door latches you spent so long to secure. “If Ichiji— if any of my siblings— come sniffing around here and have problems, you send ‘em to me. I don’t care what any of them have to say.” Yonji turned to you as the doors flew open, nearly knocking you off your feet. His gaze was acutely darkened, and his grin was wolffish. “As far as I’m concerned, this place is mine.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Yes! We are back baybeeeee! I think it's awesome that this series has somewhat of a following. Thank you all. i actually already have chapter 5 written, but as a rule of thumb I only update series when the previous chapter (so this chapter) has about 100 combined likes and reblogs. So I suppose I'll see you all later.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

[sashi-ya]

五 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧: 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [+18] 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝙸𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚒 𝚡 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✦ request: @portgasdash asked: Hiii sashiii you know what I am gonna ask Ichiji and female reader with the touch prompt below. Let's add a bit of sensory deprivation for our prince where he can't touch and see hut he can sure feel everything his pet is doing to him :3 love yoooou➜ of course my love! please enjoy our strawberry boy! ✦ tw: NSFT. mdni. blindfold. vag sex. kinda romantic. ✦ wc: 2k ✦ masterlist

Where blue orbs should be shining, now there is heavy gauze covering them. He rests laying on a big couch, with his hands on top of his belly and lips semi apart.

The monitor had been already disconnected from him, Prince Ichiji only has to rest for a few days until he is able to see again. He didn’t really wanted to get his eyes once again modified, but he wasn’t the one able to decide. Judge had developed what he called “an improvement in vision” and so his sons, specially Ichiji had to try it first.

You couldn’t help but worry; sure, he is an incredible strong human and sure nothing could hurt him… but messing again with his vision was something you weren’t happy about either.

However, because Ichiji had been a great boyf- master to you, you wanted him to go through his recuperation with a smile on his face… even if he wouldn’t be able to see exactly what his surprise is.

“Ichiji-sama 🎵 ~” you chime, with a melodic tone he loves to hear. Your hands behind your back and a playful way of walking inside his room.

The sun slightly caresses his red locks that aren’t as brushed and stiff as always but rather lose falling over his perfect countenance. You notice he jolts such a little to the sound of your voice, but a smirk isn’t appearing on his lips this time.

“What is it, (Name)? I am resting now” he says, short and straightforwardly.

It takes you a back for some seconds. He has always acted as a serious man; in fact he tries hard not to show any emotion besides disdain and true qualities of a prince… but never once he has said no to your sweet playful approach.

“I- I just wanted to come and give you a surprised to cheer you up. Are you feeling any pain?” you ask, shily. The last part for sure being the most risky question above all… Vinsmoke Ichiji never grieves or hurts… right?

You can see his fists closing and his nails carving on the armrests of his chair. “I don’t feel any type of pain” he mumbles, with clenching jaw and equally clenched teeth. Yet, he is not angry at you. He would never. He is simply, and most probably, sad. And that’s not something he was taught how to overcome.

But you can’t stop yourself. And soon you slide like a snake to where he is, surrounding his frame from behind with your arms. A palm on his chest, and you can feel the way his modified heart pumps faster. Maybe it is even made out of steel, who knows.

“I apologize for even suggesting my prince would be weak in any way. May I give Ichiji-sama my gift now?” you whisper into his right ear.

You see his neck skin turning all bumpy, reacting so instantly to your soft and purring words. A smirk plasters in your lips as you can also sense his pulse raising on the palm of your hand.

“You may… but, I won’t be able to do much. I am unable to move, they told me I could lose my sight if I dare to move further” he accepts, understanding very well your lustful intentions.

You giggle. You are fully aware of the proper care you should give to him. You have asked every doctor and scientist before even entering the room. They know of your close relationship with the prince, nor any of them know exactly what you two do on sleepless nights.

“My prince, just relax. This time, your kitty will do all the work for you… Let me pamper you ~”  you moan, this time in his left ear, placing a kiss on his cheek after.

He gasps at your soft lips being pressed on his skin; because it was sweet and caring, and he couldn’t push you away to say he didn’t like such loving gesture. It is, perhaps, for Ichiji, a real difficult challenge to grant control to others.

You walk around him to face his highness, never once lifting your hands from his shoulders. He can tell you are in front of him, but not exactly what you are doing nor about to do. Sure, he could use Haki, but for what reason? Wasn’t this a surprise? Then, so be it.

Slowly and silently, you straddle your hips on his lap. Letting your body fall ever so softly on top of him, making him jolt at your sudden approach. A movement you aren’t usually allowed to perform if not he is ordering you to do so.

You giggle. Ichiji isn’t probably aware of the faces he is making; a frowning that looks more of a troubled expression. Not because he is uncomfortable but because he has fallen into the trap of lust and perversion so quickly.

“My prince, you smell so good” you utter, burying your nose into the crook of his neck. He, as always, and even more now, smells like the sweet path to hell. His scent is so enticing and delicious, you couldn’t even yet decipher exactly what it is. It’s a mix in between juicy strawberries, spike full roses and masculine perfume.

It’s clear he has just had a bath, and you kinda hate the fact some other women had seen him naked and ultimately washed his perfect body. But, alas, is not now when you should worry about it.

Ichiji’s hands finally move so delicately to the small of your back, pushing you slightly towards his chest. He unconsciously needs you closer, so closer he couldn’t breathe as your breasts press against his pecs.

Smirking, you allow him to push you in and enjoy the taste of his neck skin with just the tip of your tongue. You leave a pool of shininess on the little indentation his prominent right collarbone has above before biting with great elegance such place.

“You are so delicious, my master ~” you murmur, using your hands to slowly unbutton his black ruffled shirt. The future king has always dressed differently from the other princes, which is nothing but yet another showing of his uniqueness.

“Am I, (Name)? Indulge in my body for today, you are absolutely allowed to” he grants you permission to go any further, to enjoy his anatomy, to praise his constitution as a God.

You excitedly beam. You weren’t expecting such reaction, but this is maybe the most beautiful way Ichiji has to express love and gratitude towards your support.

While you finally free him from the last button, you keep your hips moving in a floaty way back and forth. You can feel his hardness growing, yearning to be released from pristine white trousers.

Taking a moment to admire such work of art, his marked abs and his pale white skin are nothing but perfection to your eyes. You use your hands, who have been previously treated to be as soft as possible, to travel up and down his chest. And from his chest, you go down to the tiniest bump of belly that protrudes as he is sitting down.

You feel tiny little twitches coming from his muscles, turning rapidly into shivers as you begin to kiss down his abs. “As always, every inch of your body tastes uttermost delicious” you murmur, licking every corner of his flesh.

It’s been some minutes since the sun has set, and now the brightest of the moons shines outside the window. Before taking your lingering hands to his belt, you take a moment to admire such spectacular view from the castle. And, even if the Grandline ahead looked marvellous, there was nothing compared to the beauty you had in front and under you.

“It’s already night, Ichiji-sama…” you purr into his ear, followed by a soft bite on his earlobe.

“Ngh.. is it? I-…” he is unable to articulate any words, as you have just freed his sex from the trapping hands of his trousers. Slowly sliding back on his legs, you don’t care about your weight; Ichiji can support you with no effort at all. His thighs are literally made out of steel.

Speaking of thighs; there is something you wanted to do since forever and that you couldn’t until today. Is not that you wouldn’t want to carve your nails into his quadriceps whenever he is fucking your mouth, but you never dared. However, as he has allowed you to enjoy his body freely, you will, all over his skin, use your hands tonight.

“Master, your legs… I love them so much” you purr, massaging his muscles with silky motions that soon turn into violent squeezes.

The future king moans out of surprise, and soon his own palm searches for your neck.

You giggle, helping him get to it as he is blindly trying to find your carotids to be pressed. “Here, Ichiji-sama. You want to choke me?” you ask, giggling, squeezing his hand to do so.

“No… I wanted to – your face…” he whispers, with blushed cheeks becoming ever redder than his hair. He wanted to give you a caress? That’s, for sure, something new.

You smile softly, and thus, you move his hand to your cheek. He soon uses his thumb to graze your pouty lips. He is maybe trying to touch to imagine or asking for kisses. And you allow him to have both. As you reach for his mouth, he pouts in urge to finally give you a steamy kiss. Such needy expression makes you shiver, never once you’ve seen it and it’s the most precious memory you will ever have of him.

While your tongues dance, and your hips softly hump on his now fully hard sex, you move his hands down your chest. You let them rest for some minutes on your breasts, allowing him to discover you are wearing the expensive lingerie he has bought for you.

Ichiji presses, squeezes, enjoy the touch of your hardening nipples. He smirks with your lips still pressed; he grunts in pleasure.

You giggle more and more, and the humping gets even faster. Even if he isn’t still inside you, your wetness are creating a mess on both of your laps. And so much the grazing of your sexes is making you both bite each other’s lips, that none can wait any longer. Both want to mix in one, join your bodies as much as possible…

“My prince, shall you bless me with your hardness deep inside me?” you politely ask, before lifting your hips up a little to let his juicy length slide inside you.

Ichiji grunts loudly, carving his fingers into the flesh of your side hips. He knows he can’t move any further, but oh how he wishes he could take those gauzes off to see your body jumping on his sex.

He helps you, blindly, to get his sex right inside you and with a soft spank on your ass he moans; “No need to be that formal, (Name)… let feel that tight hole surrounding my dick now”

You let yourself fall, while his shaft alone has moved your lace panties to the side. The violent intrusion of his hardness makes you throw your head back with a loud whine that could be heard all around Germa 66 castle.

But you don’t care. Neither does him.

You place your hands on his shoulder, squeezing deliciously such wide frame. You can see him biting his own lower lip, as he goes as deeper as he could go inside you.

Squeezing your walls, clenching to him, you begin to move up and down, back and forth. Taking his hands to your breasts, he enjoys how they bounce.

Ichiji brings his body towards you, burying his nose into your chest, hugging you tightly. He is about to burst, as he can only focus on what he can feel, what he can hear, what he can taste and smell in a total darkness… maybe he even learnt that connection is not just the beauty his eyes can see but all the rest his own body can feel…

You hug him with loving arms, passing your nails through his hair as climax hits us both in an explosive releasing sensation.

“Thank you for the gift, (Name)” he whispers, still buried into your chest. His words a little muzzled by your skin pressing his nose and lips.

You allow him to spend as much time as he desires there… you too close your eyes, there is no need to see anything else, but just to feel his warmth against yours, and the way his and your hands were all over your skins tonight… 💖

[nenehyuuchiha]

Lmao

[baahsu]

— An eggceptional birthday —

sanji's brithday + zosan + vinsmoke siblings

4.2k words

general

It's Sanji's birthday and his brothers decide to give him presents. Zeff writes a letter to tell him about it.

➝ AO3

[straw-hat-nakama-22]

More of the fic I'm working on. Two of my favorite excerpts so far.

"Sanji found that he couldn’t hate his brothers. Not anymore. Maybe he just didn’t have the energy now that he was hungry and caged and missing a leg. The wound was still raw and painful, treated enough to keep him alive and nothing more.

As soon as the downward motion of Ichiji’s arm left his sight, his vision had gone white. The last thing he remembered before everything became a blur of pain and blood, was his eldest brother looking at Judge with the same longing and earnestness that Sanji once had. His brothers still thought that that man was a father.

The fact that he was looking at all, the fact that all of his brothers shared those same hungry eyes, was proof that their mother hadn’t died for nothing. They weren’t emotionless. They weren’t the killing machines Judge had wanted them to be. His brothers, his sister, they were messed up. They were broken beyond repair. But so was he. And someone still saved him."

"Sanji wasn’t surprised to wake in a cold, familiar cell with the weight of metal wrapped around his head. His heartbeat quickened and his breathing tightened and he didn’t want to do this again he’d rather die-

But he couldn’t die. He needed to get back home. Sanji owed the old man his life, it wasn’t his to throw away anymore. Sanji would get back home, support the restaurant until it could go on without him, find the All Blue, and take the old man there. He thought up all the different dishes they’d make together. He’d finished composing meal number thirty-one when his heart finally stopped pounding."

[stupidratb0y]

okay soo mostly finished sketch <3

(yes, the red is scars and the green is blood :3)

i do wana post about this au because its one of my favs im working on 🫶