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narumi-gens · 2 years ago

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Traditional Values

yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

summary: You’ve never known a yakuza to be boring. But what else could they mean when they say that Kita Shinsuke, the head of the most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional?

warnings: 18+, smut, yakuza au, arranged marriage, inherent sexism and misogyny, smoking, mentioned drug and alcohol use, violence (sorry to the oc in this fic lol), blood, spit, oral (f receiving & mentioned m receiving), mild exhibitionism, orgasm control, possessive!kita, hinted yandere-ish behavior, implied dom!kita, fingers crossed he's not too out of character 🤞🏽, reader is a spoiled little yakuza princess, idk if reader is all that likable but I like her and that's all that matters

notes: I feel like I'm starting to specialize in chaos characters bc while Kita is not one in this fic, the reader certainly is. but a different kind of chaos.

words: 5.9k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

The one word you hear over and over again when people talk about Kita Shinsuke, the head of the Inarizaki, the largest and most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional.

Despite his current position, he comes from a long line of traditional rice farmers. Once he took power over the Inarizaki, he put in place a stricter, more traditional code of conduct that all members were expected to adhere to. Instead of partying away his nights in Kobe’s clubs and brothels, he spends his evenings in a traditional house in the Hyogo countryside.

And he has traditional family values, with traditional expectations of what he wants in a wife.

But you know that traditional really just means boring.

Unfortunately, a traditional and boring life seems like all you're destined for because your father, the head of Kanto's largest yakuza syndicate, the Fukurodani, has decided to seal an alliance with the Inarizaki through marriage.

Specifically, your marriage to Kita.

After all, you're a woman and a woman can't lead the yakuza. Your only value comes from how useful you can be as a tool to build alliances and cement power. You had at least just hoped that your father would have chosen someone more exciting for you to spend the rest of your life with.

While he would never stomach seeing you at the head of the organization, he could easily have married you off to his right-hand man and hand-picked heir, the Fukurodani's young and wild wakagashira, Bokuto Koutarou. After all, nothing would ensure an eventual smooth succession better than a marriage to his only child.

And even if he decided you were more useful as a means of building his power rather than ensuring his legacy, there were still other options.

There were plenty of crazy yakuza out there who would have kept your interest piqued if only your father had chosen to further consolidate his power in Tokyo or to look for an alliance up north rather than out west.

But your father has made his choice and Kita has agreed and you have no say in the matter. It's not long before the young yakuza kumicho, along with his most trusted men in the Inarizaki, arrives in Tokyo to negotiate the finer details in person.

And when you finally meet him at dinner with your parents, you can't say that you're impressed.

He's polite. He's soft-spoken. He's respectful. He's so. utterly. boring.

As you sit next to him in a private room at one of Tokyo's finest restaurants, listening to him as he genially answers your mother's questions about his own upbringing and tells her about his close relationship with his grandmother, all you can think is, 'what a waste.'

Regardless of how handsome he is and how much his men seem to respect him and how powerful his position is, he's missing that wildness inherent to every true yakuza.

By the time the plates are cleared and the manager of the restaurant is falling over himself to thank your father for his patronage, you’ve made your assessment of your new fiancé.

Kita is dull.

It’s all you can think as he cordially thanks your father at the end of the evening.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he humbly accepts your mother’s compliments and adoration.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he politely bids you goodnight with a bow, telling you softly how nice it was to meet you.

‘You’re so boring.’

You have to bite back the urge to say the words aloud, directly to his face, just to see what he would do. Would he drop his courteous smile? Would he clench his fists? Would he slap you?

‘You’re so boring.’

He would probably just look slightly taken aback before doing his best to laugh off any offense.

“It was nice to meet you too, Kita-san,” you finally reply, your tone suggesting anything but. You feel the disapproval rolling off of your parents in waves and can already hear the lecture that awaits you once you’re alone with them.

Your father will chastise you for the disrespect that you’ve shown to a new ally, and by extension him. He’ll sternly remind you that this is your duty as his daughter. If he’s really feeling irritable then he’ll light up a cigarette and grumble about how he’s spoiled you for too long and hopes that Kita has a firm hand.

Your mother, however, will almost certainly turn so shrill in her anger that you’ll want to cover your ears. She’ll berate you for insulting your husband-to-be. She’ll scold you for your clear disinterest and boredom through every course of dinner. She’ll then blame your father for being too lenient with you over the years, to which your father will respond by simply taking a long drag of his cigarette.

But in the present, Kita simply gives you a polite smile in return and the chorus continues in your head.

‘You’re so boring.’

Just because you’re now technically engaged doesn’t mean that you need to change how you live your life. If anything, you need to savor all the fun you can before you’re shipped off to Hyogo to spend the rest of your days popping out kids and taking care of some big, empty, country house with a man who’s less interesting than the rice his family grows.

It’s not even an hour after you get home from dinner before you’re leaving once again. Only this time, you’re wearing something far more revealing and decisively less conservative than the formal kimono that your mother forced you into for your meeting with Kita — something meant to appeal to his traditional taste.

Your current outfit is one that’s perfectly suited to the high-end clubs of Roppongi. Not that it really matters considering you’re tucked away in a private VIP room, away from the large crowds and deafening music and prying eyes.

Normally, you would be surrounded by a group of your friends. But after being confronted with the man that you’ve been sentenced to marry and seeing the unending boredom in your near future, you've recognized that it also applies to your sex life.

You’ve only spent a couple of hours with Kita, but it was more than enough to know that he probably prefers fucking in missionary with the lights off. The only orgasms that you can expect as a married woman will probably come from your vibrator — unless he decides that a vibrator isn’t traditional enough, in which case you’ll have to rely on your fingers exclusively.

So, instead of the VIP room being filled with your friends, it’s just you and the man whose face is buried between your thighs, Ito Tatsuya. While your feelings towards Tatsuya tend to lie closer to ambivalence than anything else, his skilled tongue is more than enough to make up for it.

With the way his lips are wrapped around your clit, it’s easy to ignore how he acts tougher than he truly is. He talks a big game but has refrained from acting on all of his talk and joining a yakuza group. Ultimately it works in your favor as no yakuza would dare lay a finger on the beloved daughter of the Fukurodani’s feared kumicho, knowing that doing so would bring the wrath of the entire criminal organization down on their heads.

Tatsuya is the closest that you’ll get as he’s only tangentially affiliated with one of the few other powerful yakuza groups in Tokyo, the Nekoma organization. Although their power will never come close to the strength of the Fukurodani, your father has a good relationship with their kumicho, Nekomata Yasufumi. The two yakuza groups have had a strong alliance for decades.

Likewise, Bokuto has his own sense of camaraderie and friendship with Nekomata’s wakagashira, Kuroo Tetsuro, whom you’ve had the pleasure of meeting on multiple occasions as you run in the same circles. Unfortunately, it’s never turned into anything more, despite your best efforts.

Kuroo Tetsuro. That’s a man. That’s a real yakuza.

If your luck was better and if relations with the Nekoma group were worse, you probably would have been married off to him rather than the snoozefest that you’ve ended up with.

It’s easy to slip into the fantasy that it’s Kuroo whose grip feels scorching on your thigh, whose fingers are pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, whose tongue is lapping at your needy clit. The image in your head pushes you closer to the edge as your hips buck in time with his fingers.

But just as you can see your orgasm within reach, your attention is yanked away from your pleasure when the door to the VIP room opens with a BANG! as it’s kicked in. You protest with a whine as Tatsuya lifts his head from between your thighs, pure murder written across his face at having been disturbed.

Unaffected by the interruption, you use your grip on his hair to try and tug him back to his original task, but it’s of no use. He’s already removing his arm from around your thigh to reach back and pull out the gun that’s been tucked in the waistband of his pants.

You're momentarily impressed that he would flaunt the country’s severe firearm restrictions. Although the effect is lost a few moments later when he sits up only to freeze, his features going slack.

When you finally turn your head to see who’s behind the disruption, you frown unhappily.

“Kita-san,” you greet with an irritated sigh. And even you know that you’ll never get Tatsuya’s mouth back on your pussy at this point and you release your hold on his hair with a resigned huff.

Tatsuya scrambles to remove himself entirely from between your legs, carelessly dropping his gun onto the low table before the couch that you’re sprawled out across. He lifts his hands to show that they’re now empty and he’s not a threat, as if anyone would ever believe he was one.

You wonder if his panic stems from knowing exactly who it is that’s found you both in such a compromising position or if it’s solely due to how intimidating Kita and the two men on either side of him look.

For as boring as he is, you’ll give him credit. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the black jacket of the same suit he wore to dinner draped across broad shoulders, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his expression giving nothing away, is impressive. Even if he didn’t have two of his underlings with him — one with grey hair and one with dark hair, both of them wearing similar looks of apathy — it would be more than enough to put the average person on edge.

However, you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by dangerous men, with dangerous men at your beck and call.

So, as Tatsuya begins to babble, making excuses and insisting that he doesn’t want any trouble, you simply roll your eyes and push down your skirt just enough so that your pussy is no longer on display. But even in the low light of the VIP room, the insides of your thighs — and how they shine with the evidence of your rapidly-cooling arousal — are clearly visible.

“Suna,” Kita says, his gaze fixed on you. The dark-haired man needs no further instruction before he’s moving past his oyabun towards Tatsuya.

He easily grabs the cowering man from the couch by the front of his shirt and roughly shoves him to his knees on the floor, keeping him in place with one hand fisted tightly in his hair, just as yours had been only a few minutes earlier.

Kita slips his jacket from his shoulders and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of the blood-red lining on the inside. He passes it to the man still at his side, who carefully folds it over his arm in a way that won’t leave any creases. He then methodically begins to unbutton and roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his forearms and the large swaths of tattooed skin that extend almost to his wrists.

Part of you is surprised. Kita seems too dull to have even the smallest tattoo, let alone full tattooed sleeves. But another part of you knows how much significance tattoos have historically held to the yakuza and he’s nothing if not traditional. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you imagine how far they spread over the rest of his body.

The action doesn’t seem to escape his notice because he raises an eyebrow at you but makes no further comment before he turns to Tatsuya, who continues to plead for mercy.

“Enough.”

Kita doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t put any force behind the single word. Other than ensuring his sleeves are snugly held in place just below his elbows, he doesn’t even move. But there’s a danger to him that Tatsuya is quick to pick up on and his blubbering comes to an immediate halt.

He fearfully waits for the silver-haired yakuza to go on and when he does, it’s probably not in the way he was expecting. Because rather than explaining who he is or why he’s there — which Tatsuya has probably figured out on his own by this point — Kita places a hand on the back of the kneeling man’s head. The other man, Suna, releases Tatsuya altogether, wordlessly deferring to his oyabun and taking a step back to give his boss space.

The tension in the room is thick as Kita looks down at the trembling man on his knees, his face still as blank as it’s been since his sudden arrival. It snaps in an instant when he sharply yanks Tatsuya’s head down and his nose meets Kita’s raised knee with a sickening crunch! that would leave a less seasoned group of onlookers feeling queasy.

As it stands, both Suna and the other Inarizaki man appear to be amused, entertained even. You get the sense that displays of this nature from the yakuza boss aren’t common.

But as you see the blood pouring from Tatsuya’s nose and hear his howling and watch as your fiancé’s fist repeatedly makes contact with the man’s face, you feel none of that same amusement. You also don’t feel afraid or disgusted or concerned.

You’ve long grown desensitized to the violence associated with the yakuza. If anything, you can feel the boredom setting in once again.

You reach out to the table in front of you for the ashtray where your cigarette rests, having set it down when Tatsuya buried his face in your pussy. However, as soon as you pick it up, a long column of ash falls from the end and you realize with a pout that it’s already burned down to the filter.

The little noise of irritation you let out can’t be heard over Tatsuya’s pained cries or the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh again and again. You pull a new cigarette from the open pack on the table and perch it between your lips before grabbing your cheap lighter.

Once it’s lit, you take a deep, contented inhale of smoke before exhaling a large cloud that sits atop the room before dispersing. You glance back to Kita and Tatsuya to find that the scene looks exactly the same as when you looked away — except for Tatsuya’s face is completely bloodied and already swelling, and he seems on the verge of passing out.

“Really, Kita-san?” you finally ask with a yawn as you roll onto your side, your head pillowed by your bicep.

He pauses, his fist raised mid-air, and looks over at you, his eyes roving over your lackadaisical sprawl across the couch. He wordlessly releases the front of Tatsuya’s shirt from his grasp, who then drops to the floor in a bloody mess.

Suna immediately steps in to harshly kick the man over onto his stomach and places a heavy, threatening foot right on his spine. Not that it matters considering Tatsuya seems to be in and out of consciousness by this point.

But your attention isn’t on Tatsuya; it’s on Kita as he approaches you, his pace unhurried. You’re slightly impressed that he’s barely out of breath from the beating he just delivered. He picks up the discarded gun from the table and in one smooth motion, pulls back the slide to look at the chamber before releasing the magazine to check it as well.

“It’s empty,” he notes before tossing it to the man holding his jacket, who easily catches it and claims it for his own. A loud bubble of laughter escapes you at Tatsuya’s expense, finding it hilarious that the only marginally cool thing that you’ve ever seen him do was all for show.

You slip your cigarette to rest between your smiling lips as your gaze flits between the other Inarizaki men and find that they too appear to think it’s funny. Suna even presses his foot harder into Tatsuya’s back with a smirk that only grows wider when he receives a groan in response.

However, the yakuza boss doesn’t seem to share the humor that you and his men are feeling. He grabs the edge of the table and lifts it up just enough to tilt it and send everything on top of it to the floor with a dull crash. You frown at the waste of a barely touched bottle of champagne, a top-shelf bottle of whiskey, and Tatsuya’s small, unopened bag of cocaine.

Kita pays none of the mess any mind as he takes a seat on the edge of the table’s now cleared surface, directly in front of you. With you still laid out on the couch, you’re eye level with his knees.

You look up at him and raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to make his next move, daring him to keep you interested. You’re sorely disappointed when the first thing that he does is tug down your skirt to protect your modesty, something you find truly pointless considering the three men walked in on you in the middle of having your pussy eaten.

The sensation of the backs of his fingers running along the skin of your thigh as he pulls on the fabric sends a small shiver down your spine and reminds you that you were interrupted before you could cum. You shift your leg to expose your inner thigh to him in a tempting invitation for him to finish what Tatsuya started, but he simply ignores your provocation and gives your skirt one final tug to ensure it’s in place.

With a displeased roll of your eyes, you take another deep drag of your cigarette. But before you’ve finished, Kita plucks it from your lips and holds it aloft. He ignores your cry of protest as he waits half a moment for Suna to take it from him. You sit up in an effort to try and grab it back, but Kita’s fingers suddenly grip your chin hard enough that you think you’ll still feel them tomorrow.

He’s grasping you with the same hand that he used to pummel Tatsuya and you can feel how his fingers are warm and sticky with the man’s blood. It only takes a quick glance down to see that his knuckles are drenched in it.

With his hold keeping you in place, you’re unable to see what Suna does with your cigarette. However, you soon hear Tatsuya let out a low moan of pain and you have an idea.

“That’s a filthy habit,” he says. His tone is rather benign but you’re certain that you’re being scolded. “I won’t have ya keepin’ it up as my wife.”

You let out an unattractive snort and hope your expression conveys just how unimpressed you are.

“They’re my lungs. If I wanna turn them black, that’s my right.” If he didn’t have your chin held so firmly, you would probably have stuck out your tongue and pulled down on your lower eyelid to taunt him.

“Yer rights extend only to the ones that I allow ya to have,” he comments and from any other man, there would be a threatening weight to his words. Kita, however, speaks them so casually that it sounds like he’s making nothing more than an absent observation of an indisputable fact.

You can only pout in return and he releases his grip to give your cheek a gentle, condescending pat. He then lifts his unbloodied hand out at his side with his palm facing up.

“Osamu.”

The Inarizaki man with the grey hair is quick to come forward, his hand slipping inside the jacket that he’s still carrying to pull out something from the inner pocket and place it into Kita’s patiently waiting palm. He then returns to his previous spot near the door, ensuring that there’s a respectful distance between himself and Kita and you once more.

The small, carefully polished wooden box that he’s been given piques your interest. When he opens the lid, your eyes widen at the ring sitting inside of it. It’s elegant and beautiful — a traditional round diamond set atop a thin, pavé diamond band. It manages to avoid being ostentatious while still leaving no doubt about its expensive price tag, and therefore the status of the man who gave it to you.

For such a boring man, he apparently has good taste.

Your left hand moves on its own as you lift it for him expectantly. There’s the briefest flash of amusement in his eyes — the first real emotion that you’ve seen from him. But he wordlessly takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your third finger.

The first instinct you have as soon as you feel the cool metal on your skin is to bring it to your face so that you can examine your new engagement ring more closely. But he grabs your hand so suddenly to keep it in place that it startles you.

You raise your gaze to see that his own is glued to the ring that you’re now wearing. His thumb gently sweeps across the band and the gesture is a sharp contrast to how tightly his fingers are clasped around yours.

“See this?” He nods towards the ring, as if there were anything else that he could be referring to. “It’s not just a beautiful ring on yer pretty finger. It's a symbol of our commitment — yer commitment to me.”

It’s slight, barely even noticeable, but there’s an edge to his tone that’s been missing all night. You can suddenly imagine how it is this young, unassuming man with his calm and collected temperament worked his way to the top of the most powerful yakuza syndicate in Japan.

He takes a long moment to pause thoughtfully and it seems so natural that you wonder if this is a common occurrence when he speaks. You suppose you’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out.

“I have a lot of respect for yer father,” he breaks the silence, confusing you with the direction that he’s chosen to take your conversation. “He’s built one of the most sophisticated operations in the country. He’s a smart man who’s surrounded himself with people he can trust, who would take a bullet or a prison sentence for him without question. I won’t hesitate to say that he’s earned his reputation.”

He sounds sincere, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, you would ask if he was more interested in marrying your father than interested in marrying you. You have enough self-awareness to know that doing so with Kita wouldn’t go well — but only just.

“He’s a man of honor and I don’t mean to insult him.” He pauses again, this one shorter than the previous one. However, something about it feels heavier and when he finally looks back up at you, his eyes are much colder.

“The Fukurodani may be the most powerful syndicate in Kanto, but when it comes down to it, no one can match the power and numbers of the Inarizaki,” he states.

Maybe it’s the matter-of-fact way he says it, maybe it’s how composed his expression is despite the events of that evening, but you’re suddenly incredibly aware of how his grip on your fingers has slowly tightened over the last few minutes, almost bordering on painful.

“I already own everythin’ from Kansai to Kyushu. If I wanted Tokyo, I could come and take it.” You believe him. While your father won’t let you in on his operations, you’re far from clueless about the politics of the criminal underworld, including who has power and how much.

And Kita is right. The Fukurodani are the most powerful group in Kanto, one of the most powerful groups in all of Japan — second only to the Inarizaki. If a war broke out between the two over control of the country’s capital, it would be a hard and bloody conflict but the Inarizaki would undoubtedly be the victors.

This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita.

“Maybe one day I will. The alliance doesn’t really matter,” he tells you. But while he looks slightly pensive as he speaks, the corners of your lips begin to slowly turn upwards.

“Then what is it you want, Kiiiiitaaa-saaaan?” you ask, playfully stretching out his family name — what will soon be your family name.

The coldness in his demeanor seems to melt, although not into anything that could ever be considered close to warm. If you had to describe it, you would probably call it patronizing.

“Y’know they call ya Tokyo’s yakuza princess?” he replies and your smirk widens. It takes some effort with how tight his grip is, but you manage to wiggle your fingers just loose enough to intertwine them with his.

“Do they?” you ask innocently, as if you haven’t proudly worn the title over the years. You look at him knowingly through your lashes. “Even in the Hyogo countryside?”

“Even in the Hyogo countryside,” he answers mildly, briefly humoring you and you reward him with a pleased grin.

“Oh really?” you muse, bringing your joined hands up to your lips to lightly skim them along his bloody and torn knuckles.

His tolerance seems to have hit its limit because he quickly yanks his hand from yours to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks so roughly that you give a small wince. His hand is large enough that it covers your mouth almost entirely.

If anyone else were in your position, they would most likely be trembling in fear. You can only smile into his palm, the mischief mirrored in your eyes.

Kita doesn’t come across as a man who often — if ever — gives into temptation. But although his patience with you has grown thin, he seems willing to allow himself just one small indulgence.

His hand shifts so that he can slowly run his thumb across your lips, leaving behind a sticky smear of blood in its wake. As his touch reaches your cupid’s bow, you slightly part your lips to press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb before opening your mouth and catching it between your teeth.

You use just enough pressure so that he can’t simply slip it free. The metallic tang of blood is strong on your tongue as you brush it teasingly against the tip, your gaze meeting his coyly. You close your lips around his thumb and give it a light suck that would have a lesser man on his knees, begging for you to let him between your thighs.

Kita reacts with a thoughtful hum and nothing else, not even the most minute muscle twitch.

“Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess whose father lets her get away with whatever she wants,” he remarks, entirely unbothered even as you continue to suckle on his thumb while he speaks. “I won’t be anywhere near as lenient with ya. And I won’t have ya makin’ a fool outta me just because we’re not married yet.”

Although the danger is there, completely unmistakable, his voice lacks the menacing tone that should accompany his words. Instead, they’re low and soft, caressing your ears like a lover’s would, luring you in seductively.

Impulse control has never been something that you’ve practiced; it’s never been something that you’ve needed to practice. In an act of utter shamelessness, you take his free hand, the one casually hanging from his knee, and place it high on your bare thigh.

When you try to slide it further under the hem of your skirt, which has already begun to ride up since he tugged it down, you find that his hand is immovable. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, sinking into your soft skin with the weight of both his grip and his possessiveness.

“Yer mine now,” he tells you, his voice still gentle and entirely at odds with his burning touch and the taste of blood in your mouth. “I don’t need to wait for paperwork or a ceremony to make it official.”

His heavy gaze drops down to look pointedly at how you’re thighs are squeezing together, even as he keeps one of them firmly in place. He then slowly drags it back up to meet yours, leaving a scorching trail in its wake.

“I’m not just gonna give ya whatever it is ya ask for.” The words are a threat, even if he speaks them like a promise. “If ya want somethin’ from me, yer gonna have to earn it.”

Right now, there’s only one thing that you want from him and it's at the forefront of your mind.

“But I didn’t get to cum,” you whine around his thumb, your pitiful complaint slightly muffled.

Osamu and Suna’s matching looks of disbelief go unnoticed by you and Kita, neither man ever having imagined that someone would dare to say something so brazen to their fearsome oyabun.

There’s a flash in Kita’s eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards for a fraction of a second. Both happen so quickly that you only notice because he has your rapt attention and it slowly dawns on you.

He likes it. He likes your audacity. He likes your impertinence. He likes how you sound like the spoiled brat that you are. He likes that he has Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess squeezing his hand between her thighs and sucking on his thumb as she pathetically pleads with him to make her cum.

His thumb is slick with your saliva as he slips it from your mouth despite your efforts to keep it where it is by trying to sink your teeth deeper into it. He leaves a quickly-cooling trail of spit on your skin as he readjusts his hold on your jaw, once again digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. The action only exaggerates the pout that you’re already giving him.

“And ya won’t again ‘til we’re married. I don’t care if it’s with someone else. I don’t care if it’s with yerself. The next time ya do will be on our wedding night.” He pauses, letting the silence hang over the room so that the impact of his next words is truly felt. “If yer good.”

You let out a displeased noise in protest but it goes ignored as he uses his grasp on your jaw to move your head a bit to the side so that you’re looking over his shoulder and directly at the grey-haired Inarizaki man behind him.

“This is Osamu. He’s gonna be stayin’ in Tokyo for a bit.” He gives you a single wave in acknowledgment from where he stands. “Yer father’s already agreed to it.”

The implication is clear: Osamu is to be Kita’s eyes and ears in Tokyo. If you act in any way that’s unbefitting of your new status as the woman set to marry the Inarizaki’s kumicho, he’ll certainly know.

“You’ll be seein’ a lot of him,” he tells you as he returns your focus back to him. He then leans forward, closing the gap between you to tenderly press a light kiss to your forehead, his lips moving against your skin with his next words. “So, be good for me.”

He sits back and meets your gaze expectantly and it’s clear that he wants your assurance that you’ll do as told. You give a childish roll of your eyes and his grip tightens in warning.

“I’ll be good,” you reply, the words feeling foreign on your tongue but they seem to appease him.

However, his eyes soon land on your lips and then narrow. It’s a small movement, but the temperature of the room seems to drop with it. His next question is spoken as softly as everything else he’s said that night, but there’s a new kind of gravity to it, one that promises danger should he receive an answer that he doesn’t like.

“Did ya use yer mouth on him?”

It’s clear that Tatsuya’s life depends on your response. Luckily for him, there’s only one answer that you can give.

“I don’t suck cock,” you say and it’s only because Kita is grasping so tightly onto your jaw that you don’t physically turn your nose up at the suggestion of you getting on your knees.

But then something unexpected happens. The calm and carefully controlled expression on Kita’s face softens into something finally approaching fondness, a faint smile forming on the straight line of his lips.

“You will for me,” he promises and you raise a challenging eyebrow, even as your own grin begins to grow.

“I will?” you ask playfully and he nods.

“You will if ya wanna be good,” he’s kind enough to remind you and there’s a strange fluttering in your stomach that you’ve never experienced before.

“Yes, Shin-kun,” you smile, and despite barely having had any of the champagne that’s now spilled across the floor, you feel drunk.

You hardly wait for Kita to order his men to leave with a firm but impassive, “out,” before sliding from the couch and sinking to the floor between his parted legs. Your knees already ache from the unfamiliar sensation of resting against such a hard surface.

The weight of his hand on the back of your neck burns as you rub your cheek against the expensive fabric of the slacks covering his muscled thigh. As you reach for the buckle of his belt, you look up at him to find him watching you ravenously.

It absently occurs to you that throughout the entire evening, you never once heard him raise his voice. Even when he was brutally assaulting Tatsuya, he never seemed angry or bothered. No matter the situation, he remained unfazed.

But as you slide a hand inside of his pants to grip his half-hard cock through the soft material of his boxers, you can see it. Underneath his composed visage and mild temperament, burning bright in his shining and hungry eyes, is a dangerous flame — one that threatens to consume you and every inch of Tokyo in a devastating and all-consuming blaze.

Maybe Kita Shinsuke isn’t as boring as you thought.

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke fanfic #kita shinsuke fic #kita fic #kita fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fic #mel writes #traditional values

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the-ellia-west · 6 months ago

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Hello and Welcome!

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About me:

I am a Christian, and a Devoted one!

I am a Minor (High School) So DON'T BE WEIRD

I am a Woman

I am Straight and a Hopeless Romantic, but I'm not looking for a Relationship currently

I am an Author/Writer

Amateur artist, (Started drawing August 2024)

I am a Plotter, and I just recently figured that out!

I love to ramble and listen to rambles!

My MBTI is INFP-T

I live in the USA Midwest but I spell grey with an e

✦ I promise I don't bite! Please interact with me! ✦ Feel free to ask me anything about Writing or my WIPs, I love to help!

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Favorites: Book: John Carter, A Princess of Mars (By Edgar Rice Burroughs) Movie: Narnia, Voyage of the Dawn Treader Artist: Tobymac Song: Sleep in the Storm (Unspoken) Colors: Blood Red, Gold, Lilac Purple, Forest Green Hobbies: Writing, Doodling, Rambling Food: Eggs, Grapes, Noodles, Specifically Spaghetti, and Pork lo-mein Drink: Taro Milk tea & Cherry Italian Soda Characters: Haymitch, Zuko, Knuckles, Eustace, Darth Maul, Gummigoo, Hunter, Doey, Yarnaby Tropes: Magnificent Bastards, True Kings, Romantic Subplots, Grumpy Mentors, Darkest Hours, Redemption arcs, & Happy Endings Current Interests: Sonic, The Owl House, TADC, ATLA, Fool's Gold, PPT ch4

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I Post about:

Any of my Interests

Talking with and Supporting Friends

My Life and Feelings

My WIPS! (Usually Characters but sometimes Plot & Actual Writing) -[See Below]

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My Wips!

Just Click on the Titles for more info! (Masterposts Coming soon) QNA OPEN - PLEASE ASK ABOUT MY OCS

Jest of Royalty -JoR- Genre - High Fantasy Action Drama Type - Webcomic Theme - Anyone can be redeemed if They have the Remorse and are willing to put in the work Description - A Young Farm boy named Ronan Breaks the Magical Staff of a god, and embarks on a Vengeful quest to get them back, Finding a new family along the way and learning the true meaning of mercy and love

Fallen Genre - Romance Fantasy Type - Written Theme - Nothing said, done, or changed, Can Make a Person unworthy of love Description - In a World where name means everything, a Noblewoman named Adémiah runs away from home and meets a Criminal called Dyn who saves her life several times, and through a dangerous journey they learn to love one another, with the help of a Traveller called Bard

Chomik Genre - High-Fantasy Comedy Type - Comic Theme - None Description - Young Hero, Kaezal, is yoinked into a quest for knowledge by a researcher, Akea, and they come across a variety of different Foes and Reoccurring Villains

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Tags:

#Ellia scribbles - My Drawings, doodles, & art practice

#Ellia's rambling - My incoherent Ramblings about the stuff I love

#Ghost-stories - My Actual Writing

#Tea and trinkets - Yapping with my Friends

#Quill-and-ink - My Poetry

#Haunting box - Any asks

#Ellia's dollhouse - My Real Life

#Ellia's dolls - My Hyperfixations/interests

#Fallen wip - Anything important Fallen-related

#Chomik work - Anything Chomik-related

#Ellia's jor - Anything JoR-related

#JoR memes - Memes and random funny stuff

#JoR family - Character info, Team Dynamics, conversations, ect.

#JoR psychology - We dive into the minds of the Characters

#JoR characters - Stuff about individual characters

#JoR vital - Things I may need for later/important stuff

#JoR building - Worldbuilding

#JoR story - The Plot

#JoR snippets - Scenes, Writing, ect.

#JoR thoughts - My ramblings about the WIP

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My Moots:

@thewritingautisticat @yolbert @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @lunaeuphternal @an-indecisive-nerd

@homelessnerd @thebookishkiwi @write-with-will @pastellbg @i-do-anything-but-write

@darkandstormydolls @supercimi @blargh-500 @sunflowerrosy @corinneglass

@carb0n-m0n0xid3 @tiredpapergirl @vesanal @fourwingedsnake @ellowynthenotking

@busybussinbee @the-letterbox-archives @harleyacoincidence @cosmolumine @urnumber1star

@thecrazyalchemist @i-hate-happy-endings @stars-forever @fantastictrashpolice @blue-kyber

@artsandstoriesandstuff @rivenantiqnerd @cybercelestian @aalinaaaaaa @agirlandherquill

@smudged-red-ink @clever-naming-convention @carb0n-m0n0xide @theweirdbox123 @seastarblue

Farewell, and have a good day Loves!

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tomatoteddy · 5 months ago

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"Huh? Who am I? Who am I?!? Silly, I am the greatest star amongst the Phillipines Sea, the great Kuminang! Remember it, because you will be hearing it a lot from now on".

I made another oc + a new layaout for the charactr profiles… Can you tell I really like making characters? Anyways I always need to find an excuse to make at least one Filipino oc for every fandom I’m in so here y’all go!!

Kuminang (meaning: shine/sparkle in Tagalog) is as stated above, a pretty haughty and vain young lady, often bossing and ordering people around and acting like a spoiled princess. Despite that though, she really values hard working and passionate people, so she’ll tend to be nicer to people like that. She’s very passionate about music and singing, often spending hours practicing in her room. Strangely though, she doesn’t talk about her past a lot, which makes her a hot topic of discussion amongst newspapers.

Trivia

She’s based off this Filipino folktale I remember hearing about, where the sky used to be close to the ground. A spinster (sometimes it was a giant, sometimes she’s described as pretty but vain) placed her comb and necklace atop the sky while she was pounding rice. But everytime she raised the mortar, she’d hit the sky and she’d hit it so hard she’s cause it to go up everytime. So she basically caused the sky to rise up higher and higher, and her comb became the moon and her necklace the stars. (I’ve always loved this tale since I was a kid cause I loved stars and space, so naturally I had to make an oc based off of it).

I really wanted her udimo to be some sort of aquatic animal since I always associated aquatic animals with space, especially whales. Kuminang also used to live in a fishing town before she moved to Manila, so I imagine that even if she prefers to not talk about her past, she still feels nostalgic about the sea.

I imagine her to be a DPS/Support. I’m not too well versed in the combat/fighting side of games usually besides “this attack makes big damage”, so I may be a bit iffy when it comes to my ocs incantations and skills 😅😅 But I imagine her Counter incantation lets her counter-attack any enemies that attack her, similar to J’s if you get what I mean.

Kuminang is actually a trans girl and came from an unsupportive family who didn’t approve of her dream to be a singer before she ran away, and that’s partly the reason why she prefers not to talk about her past. She hides the fact she’s trans by using padded bras and wigs, but in her Insight 2 she’s wearing neither. I sorta view it as her accepting that she can’t hide her past but that it doesn’t change who she is now, if you get what I mean. It’s also like her accepting that she can have her naturally short hair and flat chest and still be a girl.

Kuminang didn’t have a proper real name at first since when she ran away to Manila she got rid of her former identity and immediately chose Kuminang as her stage name, and just went as that for a while. She then decided on Estrella as her proper real name, though still uses Kuminang.

Although Kuminang's mother tongue is Bisayan, she mostly speaks Tagalog due to her work in Manila. She also knows how to speak conversational English.

In terms of relationships to the other residents of the suitcase, I imagine her to admire Sweetheart a lot due to her own beauty and skills, and also because she views the idea of being in a film as her next step towards fame. I also imagine she sometimes hires Click to basically be her photographer, and though he gets easily overwhelmed by her energetic and bossy personality, she’s willing to buy camera films for him in exchange, so he goes along with her anyways. (This is just an excuse to get my fave character and my oc to interact)

She’s also quite fond of Vertin, and even though she teases her and is sometimes rude to her, she genuinely appreciates Vertin’s hard work and care towards her. She also talks about how Vertin is probably “one of the best managers she’s had”, but usually doesn’t elaborate past that.

I’m actually planning on making a fan-garment for her when Version 2.5 comes around because I really wanna draw her in a qipao/cheongsham surrounded by lanterns. And I know the garments for that patch are all traditional Chinese clothing BUT!!!!! I’ve been listening to Wei Ward Romance by Flavor Foley too much and really want an excuse to draw her in a qipao sooo WAIT FOR WHEN THAT ARRIVES!!!!

#in all actuality shes one of my favourites that ive made ueuueu #expect more of her cause I feel like I probably will make more art of her #dt’s suitcase #tomatoteddy art #reverse 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 oc #r1999 fanart #r1999 oc #art #artists on tumblr #fan oc #fan ocs #original character

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melodyartist · 5 months ago

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I would recommend removing the chin line from your Athena design, as chin line tattoos are sacred to the Inuit people of the Arctic. /nm /info

Perfect opportunity to make people aware of that and lead them to do some research.

I totally get your concern and the fact that this type of markings may be sacred to the Inuit...

But markings and scars are not exclusive to just an ethnic group, Indigenous,Maori or even African people have the same type of way of marking and they all mean different things.

For the Inuit the practice was done for aesthetic, medicinal purposes, and also part of the Inuit religion, the same marks could be sign for the coming of age of women and more.

The marks,pattern and sometimes scars I do are usually more based on African tradition especially on Yoruba's culture. Those types of marks are meant to indicate from which tribe you are from but mostly nowadays are just a sign of beauty.

Flash news, I'm Nigerian and Italian, 2 in 1, what a great packet deal, but please I don't think I have to talk about jollof rice and pasta so that I can use elements of my culture, we couldn't see the end of that.😭

Some examples of characters that would further make my explanation clear

My oc/sona Atenel has tribal marks too(similar to the one my mom has so I can't be more on the nose on that)

Calypso too was supposed to have those type of scars, but I just turned them into marks/tattoo but the idea behind was always on them looking like tribal marks.

I mean the girl has bubble braids but she is wearing a Minoan inspired outfit, creative liberties are ok as long as they are respectful and you know what you are doing

They are coded in a way for a reason, am I projecting on my character? Absolutely. Some may have some accurate details and others may not, it's all based on interpretation and how I feel about the character.

In conclusion, I think that yours was a great suggestion, but will I follow it? Unfortunately no, that would go against my whole explanation, they are not unknowingly meant to replicate the Inuit's marks, they are meant something that I know of and that is closer to me.

This person video sums my argument perfectly: so check it out

#this time it's a little rant #greek mythology #athena #Calypso #oc #culture #i like Athena's beauty marks just as they are😅#i swear i tried to be as informative as possible

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adanaac · 2 months ago

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CANADAS TOKYO TRIP PART 1 (day 1 to 4)

HIII i was originally going to post photos day by day but i was always tired every day so like. tehepero or something

this was my first time going to japan!! and first time going overseas without my family (but with 2 other friends still!)

very long and very many pics so everything under the cut

also theres 2 parts bc i have too many pics for tumblrs image limit. see part 2 here.

Day 1 - Meiji Jingu Shrine + Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building

was fairly tired on day 1 bc the plane landed at 8am and we immediately started running around

first meal in japan was hamburg steak, first time trying it

they had free flow rice and soup and water which is crazy to me and honestly might be the best thing about japan and japanese restaurants. in china and sg they would be counting every cup of water u asked for and have it on ur final bill at like $3 per. shit is crazy

also i intended to take way more pictures with the little standee of my oc but i didnt want to lose it LOL was already trying to keep track of my phone/wallet/etc the entire time

meiji jingu is a fairly cool shrine! nothing to write home about, but it IS a lot of trees in the center of tokyo, and the huge toriis are really fun to see

as is standard fare for all shrines, they sell omamoris (1000 yen) and omikujis (100 yen)

i was intending to get an omamori since before the trip (just for the Vibes lol) but i only ended up getting one near the end of the trip haha

but i AM addicted to getting omikujis. god i love omikujis. any silly little omikuji give it to me

the tokyo metropolitan government building is really tall and has viewing decks at the top that u can see the skytree and tokyo tower from. my friend who planned the trip had us go there to see the sunset but tbh i dont really get the craze about seeing sunsets or seeing buildings light up at night

obligatory review of all the things abt japan everyone always talks abt:

- the bidet toilets: theyre kinda scary LMAO i only used them once or twice bc i dont like things making noise where i cant see. but the heated seat is cool as hell its so cold in japan im born and bred singaporean used to 30°C weather. also the water level in the toilet is far too high why doesnt anyone ever talk about that? ALSO ALL THE TOILET PAPER IS 1 PLY WHY HAS NOBODY EVER MENTIONED THIS??? IS ALL TOILET PAPER IN AMERICA 1 PLY ALSO OR SOMETHING??? WHO LIVES LIKE THIS. WHATS THE POINT. HEATED TOILET SEAT BIDET BUT 1 PLY TOILET PAPER????? THE HORROR

- vending machines: theyre every 2 steps yeah. UNTIL. until you actually need one and then theyre nowhere to be found its so mysterious. i might be haunted by some youkai it would be on brand. theyre kinda on the expensive-ish side to me but its nice that (at least in tokyo) vending machines/shops are roughly the same price no matter where you go, so theyre not crazy upcharged at the airport or tourist spots (stuff is probably cheaper in less touristy parts of japan but i wouldnt know)

- trains: guys i might be pampered by singapores public transport. public transport in tokyo is like just okay to me. i hear about the peak hour rush but its like fine. and at least the dinnertime peak hour rush is actually limited to about an hour unlike in sg where the trains are impossibly cramped from 6pm to 11pm. also its kind of comical the amount of salarymen in suits and ties. its like a clown car but in black and white. like they werent kidding the salarymen can salarymen

this is also a super stupid and cliche thought i keep having, but its "ohhhhh i see why pokemon/super mario odyssey looks the way it looks now" (and also *goes into subway station* omg just like exit 8!)

suburbs in tokyo really are built in that very square style that lends itself very well to pixel art (a lot of buildings in tokyo especially further from the metropolitan area are very brutalist. very cool) and theres a lot of businesses that have a very small footprint but go upstairs

and the specific angles that roads and junctions are placed in tokyo immediately weirded me out in the exact way new donk city road angles weirded me out. im sure new york roads probably look like this too but i havent seen

Day 2 - Fukagawa Edo Museum + Senso-ji + Tokyo Skytree

ok i think by day 2 i was more in the mindset to enjoy things bc i got sleep

the friend who planned the trip had us get up by 8 every day ("like army" my mom says)

fukagawa edo museum was pretty cool! life size replicas of edo period japanese houses, youre allowed to take your shoes off and go in. museums are more relaxed about letting you touch than reddit would have had me believe, its fairly common to see interactive contraption bits with a sign like "you can turn this crank 3 times max" beside it

also they simulated day/night/weather cycles by closing shutters in the roof, very fun

also we went to a ramen place and got IMMEDIATELY clocked as chinese and the waitress started speaking chinese to us omg so embarrassing

senso-ji, the shopping street leading to it and asakusa in general might be one of my favorite places i went to. i knew OF senso-ji and asakusa prior, but i didnt realise they used the same kanji

if you paid attention in class (read all my ramblings on youkaigakkou-tl) you'll know that places called -ji or -dera are buddhist temples, and places called -jinja are shinto shrines. although in meiji jingu's case, "jingu" is the suffix, and refers specifically to high-status and/or imperial shrines. (meiji jingu worships empror meiji, from the late 1800s/early 1900s)

the shopping street is a lot of fun, i do love crowds when its open air. feels like home. also a lot of funny little toys to look at. i got a fox mask hehe

senso-ji is sort of the just-right combination of cool buildings + park + crowds that i like. also i got to see kaminari gate with the big red lantern! also the pot of incense that tamao and mujina put their faces in

went around the mall under the tokyo skytree for a while (didnt actually go up it bc too expensive) as a singaporean, a nice shopping mall is my natural habitat. love to look at things hate buying things

("wow minolta like from markiplier camera lens hyperfixation?")

didnt fully explore this place bc i was tired but We Will Be Back.

Day 3 - Urayasu City Folk Museum + Tokyo Metro Museum

Urayasu might be my favorite neighbourhood from the trip, was a noticeably more comfortable humidity for me and its all very open and countrysidey from being more on the outskirts of tokyo

this museum's another one with recreations of traditional japanese houses! and its abt coastal japan and the land reclamation to create that area

the metro museum's a metro museum, yknow. i think this would be massive for the train autismers, but its just regular big to me. i think the most interesting things were the tunnel bore and tunnel cross section.

also if ur going to tokyo: BRING A STAMP BOOK (stamp as in the thing u ink and press on paper) or A5 sized notebook (or A4 might be even better, if u dont mind lugging it around) a lot of touristy places have stamps, and each subway station has its own stamp too. theyre generally about the size of a cup coaster? so youre going to want that big of paper at least. some museums also sell dedicated stamp books for you to get all the stamps at their museum, and sometimes theres a reward for getting all of them (this is mostly a thing to incentivise kids)

Day 4 - Tokyo Dome?? + Imperial Palace?? + Sumida Aquarium

this was kinda a weird day bc the original plan was to go to the amusement park at tokyo dome but we got there and all the rides were kinda kiddy and there was just 1 kinda okay roller coaster so we decided nah and just ate crepes there

and then i felt crazy so we walked to the imperial palace bc we actually hadnt planned a day to go there

(but then it was closed bc its closed on fridays)

went back to the skytree to see the aquarium! lots of jellyfish and penguins! i feel like ive seen these penguin relationship charts floating around social media for a bit, and i finally have context for them and got to see some of the penguins on it!

also my legs died. badly

CONTINUED IN PART 2 BC 30 IMAGE LIMIT!!!! I HAVE TOO MANY PICTURES 😭😭😭

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xoxorealitygalore · 2 months ago

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Look What You Did 9

Jey Uso x Black OC

Summary: After meeting Joshua, Jalisa embarks on an emotional journey, navigating the vulnerability and joy of an unexpected connection.

Tag: @theusotwinzcom @baybehkay @purplementalitybluebird

The Florida sun filtered softly through the gauzy curtains in Jalisa’s living room, casting golden streaks over the cozy chaos that came with family. It was a Sunday. A lazy, loud, full of love day, and the twins, Jariana and Jaquala, were two months old to the day. That morning, their gurgling and cooing had been the unofficial wake-up call, pulling everyone into the heart of the house like gravity.

Joshua’s brothers, Jon and Sefa, had arrived not long after breakfast, their arms loaded with gifts and grocery bags. Their wives, Trinity and Almia, came shortly after with their children in tow, adding more laughter and footprints to the already buzzing household. Kisses were exchanged, compliments given, and the twins were passed from one auntie to the next like a treasure. It was obvious the spotlight shone squarely on the twins today.

Jalisa had grown used to the sound of family, to the way Jon and Sefa walked in like they belonged and they did. She hadn’t expected to grow so close to Joshua’s brothers after everything, but they showed up in the kind of way people always promised they would but rarely did. No pressure. No judgment. Just presence. They never once tried to pry into her feelings about Joshua. If anything, they became her safe place.

“Uncle Jon, can I color your tattoos?” Mariah asked, her voice honey-sweet and full of curiosity. She stood next to him on the couch, clutching a pack of washable markers in both hands, eyes wide with hope.

Jon looked down at her, his tough exterior softening instantly. Mariah tilted her head to the side and gave him the smile, the one that had melted many hearts before his. “Go ahead,” he replied, stretching out his arm like a canvas.

Sefa shook his head from the armchair, a smile playing at his lips. “You just gonna let her do that?”

“Girl’s an artist,” Jon shrugged. “I trust her.”

Mariah beamed. “Okay! After I’m done with you, I’m doing Uncle Sefa too!”

Sefa laughed. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Nope,” Mariah chirped as she popped the cap off a pink marker.

In the kitchen, Jalisa stirred the seasoned rice while Trinity stood nearby, swaying side to side with little Jaquala nestled against her chest in a soft wrap. Trinity’s voice was gentle, almost reverent as she looked down at the baby girl.

“I can’t wait to have a little one like you,” she whispered. Her smile was wistful, layered with longing and cautious hope.

Jalisa glanced over, catching the vulnerable look on Trinity’s face. Trinity rarely let her guard down, always so energetic, always moving. But this was different. Raw. Real.

“You thinking about trying soon?” Jalisa asked softly, keeping her voice low as not to interrupt the sweet moment.

Trinity nodded, then sighed. “Yeah… I’ve been thinking about stepping away from WWE. My body’s been sending signals, you know? And I’ve always wanted to be a mom, but the timing never felt right. Now I’m not sure if I’m late or just on time in my own way.”

Jalisa leaned against the counter. “Let me tell you something, Trin. I used to think it was crazy to have babies past a certain age. Thought I was done after my thirties. But here I am, mid-forties, rocking newborns and somehow more patient than I’ve ever been. When it’s your time, it’s your time. Just go for it.”

Trinity’s eyes glistened. “You make it look possible. That’s why I talk to you about this stuff. You’ve been through it all and you still smile.”

“Sometimes through tears, but yeah,” Jalisa said, laughing. “Still smiling.”

Almia joined them at the stove, grabbing a wooden spoon and giving the collard greens a gentle stir. “The secret to motherhood at any age is a little help and a whole lot of wine.”

The women laughed together, the kind of laughter that felt sacred, like it had been earned through shared understanding and miles walked in similar shoes.

Back in the living room, Mariah was still coloring tattoos when she looked up at Jon with wide eyes. “Can Jayla sleep over?”

Jon raised a brow. “What you and Jayla about to do?”

“She’s gonna do my hair and read me stories,” Mariah said proudly.

Jon chuckled. “Ask your momma if it’s okay.”

Mariah skipped off like a butterfly, bounding into the kitchen. “Mommy, can Jayla sleep over?”

Jalisa looked over her shoulder. “Now what y’all about to do at this sleepover?”

Mariah placed both hands on her hips like a tiny adult. “Girl stuff, you know.”

Jalisa smirked. “Okay, Jayla can sleep over, but you better behave.”

“I always do,” Mariah said, skipping away again, victorious.

“She and Jayla act like they can’t live without each other,” Trinity noted.

“Jayla don’t play about her mini me,” Almia added.

“And Mariah don’t play about her ‘big me’ that’s what she calls Jayla,” Jalisa said.

The three women doubled over with laughter.

The scent of garlic and chicken filled the air. Dinner was nearly ready, and Jalisa was pulling trays of cornbread from the oven when Trinity brought up something unexpected.

“Okay, so… the triplets want to do a joint 40th birthday party.”

Jalisa raised a brow. The triplets being Joshua, Jon, and Joe as they were born the same year and are super close.

“And I would plan it, but you know I’m on the road,” Trinity said, setting Jaquala down into a nearby bouncer.

“Yeah, me too,” Almia said, raising her hands in surrender.

The two women looked directly at Jalisa. She blinked. “Oh, no. Y’all not about to drop this in my lap.”

“Come on, Jali,” Trinity pleaded. “You’re good at this stuff. You throw the best parties.”

Jalisa sighed. “Don’t you think this will have Joshua thinking he’s getting another chance?”

“Nope,” Almia said, popping a grape into her mouth. “This isn’t just for Joshua. It’s for all three of them.”

“And if he thinks planning a birthday party means y’all are gonna be a couple again,” Trinity added, “then he’s slower than I thought.”

Jalisa tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I’ll do it. But y’all gotta help with the guest list.”

“What guest list?” Trinity snorted. “This party is going to spread via word of mouth.”

“Every single relative of theirs will show up and show out without an invite,” Almia agreed.

“Okay, fine. Are we doing this on the twins’ actual birthday or just picking a random date?” Jalisa asked.

“Definitely a random date,” Trinity said.

“Yeah, it’s better that way,” Almia agreed.

“I’ll pick a date and let y’all know then,” Jalisa said, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Great. Thank you for doing this,” Trinity said sincerely, reaching out to squeeze Jalisa’s hand.

The warmth in the room was undeniable. Family. Loud. Messy. Deeply rooted. And Jalisa, for all her uncertainties and tired nights, couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Dinner brought everyone together around the long dining table. The twins were tucked into their bassinets nearby, peacefully dozing under soft pastel blankets, unaware of the noise around them. Jalisa had cooked enough food to feed a small army of baked garlic chicken, seasoned rice, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, and peach cobbler resting on the counter, still warm.

Jon piled his plate high while giving Jalisa an appreciative nod. “You did your thing, sis. Again.”

“She always does,” Sefa said, already halfway through his first helping. “I don’t even try to eat before I get here.”

“You better chew and swallow before you start singing praises,” Almia teased, passing a bowl of salad.

Jayla sat next to Mariah, braiding her hair with careful fingers. The two of them whispered and giggled about sleepover plans of nail polish colors, which movies to watch, which snacks to steal from the kitchen. Jayla was patient with Mariah in a way that reminded Jalisa of herself with her sisters, once upon a time. Watching them together made her heart ache with love.

As everyone settled in with their plates, Jalisa paused, soaking in the moment. Laughter bounced off the walls. A baby monitor glowed softly on the kitchen counter, and one of the twins let out a sleepy sigh. Jalisa knew that soon she'd be up again for a feeding, but for now, she had this: a house full of people she loved, people who loved her back, without strings or judgment.

“Alright,” Sefa said, raising his glass of sweet tea. “To the twins! Two months old today. Time is flying by. To their beautiful momma for keeping everything together. And to this food, which might be the best part of my whole week.”

“Hear, hear,” Jon agreed, tapping his glass gently.

“To Jalisa,” Trinity added. “For making all of us feel like this is home.”

Jalisa ducked her head, touched. She never asked for applause. She didn’t need it. But hearing it still felt like balm.

After dinner, the kids scattered, some to the playroom, some to the backyard to chase fireflies. Jayla helped Mariah set up sleeping bags in the living room, and the two began organizing an impromptu spa night with pink robes, slippers, and peel-off face masks. It didn’t matter that Mariah was eight and Jayla nearly eighteen; to them, they were the same age in spirit.

In the nursery, Trinity helped Jalisa with the babies. Jaquala was fussing just a little, needing to be rocked, while Jariana lay quietly in her bassinet, wide-eyed and watching the mobile spin overhead.

“I don’t know how you do it with two,” Trinity murmured, pacing slowly with Jaquala in her arms.

“Half the time I don’t,” Jalisa admitted, adjusting a swaddle. “But then I look at them, and I remember why I try so hard.”

“You’re really okay with doing this alone?” Trinity asked gently.

Jalisa hesitated, the question heavy but fair. “I’m not alone. Not really. I have my kids. I have y’all. And Joshua… well, he’s here, in his own way. He’s trying. I don’t know if that means we’ll ever be something again, but for now, I don’t feel like I’m drowning. And that’s progress.”

Trinity nodded slowly. “That makes sense. You don’t need to decide anything now. You’ve got time. And we’ve got your back.”

Later, once everyone had said their goodbyes, and the dishes were cleaned, the twins fed again, and the house had quieted, Jalisa found herself alone in her room. The baby monitor played soft static on her nightstand. Mariah’s laughter echoed faintly from the living room, where she and Jayla were still deep in girl stuff.

Jalisa stood in front of her dresser, brushing her hair slowly. Her reflection stared back of tired eyes, soft smile, and strength in her posture. This woman was not the same person from two years ago. She had carried heartbreak and healing at the same time. She had let herself feel angry, confused, hopeful, and everything in between. And still, she kept going.

There was a knock at the door. Soft. Almost hesitant.

Jalisa opened it to find Sefa standing there with a sleeping toddler in his arms.

“Sorry to bother,” he whispered. “Zee passed out, and Almia’s got her hands full rounding up the boys. Mind if I lay her down in the guest room?”

“Of course,” Jalisa said, stepping aside.

He moved quietly, laying his infant daughter down with the practiced grace of a father who’d done this many times. After covering her with a blanket, he paused.

“Can I ask you something?” he said softly.

Jalisa leaned against the doorframe. “Sure.”

“Do you know how strong you are?” he asked, looking her in the eyes.

Jalisa blinked, thrown. “I don’t feel strong all the time.”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “You’re not supposed to. But you still show up. For your kids. For our family. For yourself.”

She smiled a little, eyes stinging. “Thank you, Sefa.”

He gave her a short, respectful nod and walked back down the hallway.

When Jalisa returned to her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, letting the quiet wrap around her like a blanket. The babies stirred faintly in their crib, and she walked over to check on them. Jariana’s fist was curled around a soft toy, while Jaquala’s tiny foot kicked against the blanket. Their breaths were steady. Peaceful.

She leaned down and kissed each of their foreheads.

“Happy two months, my girls,” she whispered.

Then she slipped under her covers, leaving the door cracked so she could still hear Mariah and Jayla’s voices in the other room.

The following morning the sunlight crept gently through the gauzy curtains of Jalisa’s bedroom, casting soft golden lines across the bassinet where Jaquala and Jariana slept curled beside one another like mirror images. The house was quiet, remarkably so after the lively energy of the previous day with Jon, Sefa, Trinity, Almia, and all the kids filling it with laughter, teasing, and that familiar warmth Jalisa had come to both cherish and fear.

She lay still for a moment, her body anchored to the comfort of her mattress, listening to the little breaths of her newborn daughters and the occasional creak of the house settling. Somewhere down the hall, Mariah was still asleep in her room with Jayla, no doubt tangled in blankets and braids, giggling late into the night as only eight-year-olds with their favorite person could.

Jalisa reached over to her nightstand and tapped her phone awake. Notifications blinked softly. One stood out.

Joshua: Thanks for letting my brothers be around yesterday. I know it meant a lot to them. It meant a lot to me too.

A quiet text. No expectations. No pressure. Just truth.

Jalisa stared at it for a moment longer than she needed to. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to say, and what she wanted to say. The words he sent echoed in her mind. It meant a lot to me too.

She had been. Despite herself.

Yesterday had felt like a reminder of what family could be. Not perfect. Not without tension. But layered and full. Jon’s easy laughter, the way he let Mariah color in his tattoos like it was the most important task in the world. Sefa’s playful banter with CJ and Aryan. Trinity’s quiet vulnerability as she spoke of her hopes for a baby of her own. Almia’s dry wit in the kitchen. Even the chaos of Mariah asking for sleepovers and the women planning the triplets’ birthday party had brought life into Jalisa’s home in a way she hadn’t realized she missed.

She typed slowly.

Jalisa: It was a good day. Your family always shows up. I appreciate them.

She stared at the message for a second before her thumb hit send.

There was no immediate reply, and that was okay. The silence didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt like space like possibility.

The twins stirred in their bassinet, little fists fluttering, and Jalisa leaned over to scoop Jaquala into her arms. She nestled the baby against her chest, inhaling the soft scent of powder and newness. Jariana soon followed, tiny features scrunching as her sister was taken away.

Jalisa padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen, one baby nestled in each arm. CJ and Aryan were already in the kitchen eating cereal. “Good morning,” Jalisa said to her sons. “Morning,” They mumbled. She moved with the quiet ease of a woman who had done this before, rocking hips gently, knowing which floorboard would creak, which bottle was prepped.

The kitchen still held the scent of last night’s dinner of seasoned chicken, roasted vegetables, warm bread. A dish towel hung over the oven handle, a few mugs were drying on the rack. Evidence of life well-lived. She warmed bottles and fed the twins in soft sync, their mouths latching with instinctive rhythm.

Footsteps padded down the hall.

“Mommy,” Mariah yawned, stepping into the kitchen in her bunny slippers and pink robe. “Jayla’s still asleep.”

“That’s fine, baby. Come sit with us,” Jalisa said, nodding to a stool at the counter.

Mariah climbed up and watched her mother feed her sisters. “Can we go to the park later?”

“We’ll see how the babies are doing,” Jalisa answered.

“Okay. Can I help dress them?”

Jalisa smiled. “You just wanna pick their outfits.”

Mariah grinned, proud. “They gotta look cute.”

Later in the morning, the doorbell rang. Jalisa wasn’t expecting anyone, but when she opened the door, there stood Trinity, in sweats and a messy bun, holding a box of donuts.

“Morning,” she said brightly. “I brought breakfast.”

Behind her, Almia waved from the car. “I’ll be back. I’m running errands. Good luck surviving Trinity’s caffeine rush.”

Inside, the house filled again with warmth. Trinity held Jaquala while Mariah showed her the “matching bows” she picked out for the twins. Jalisa made coffee. They settled into the living room, music playing softly in the background.

“I was thinking,” Trinity said, “of doing a little video for the twins’ two-month milestone. Just something sweet. You okay with that?”

Jalisa nodded. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“They’re getting so big,” Trinity whispered, kissing Jaquala’s cheek. “You’re doing amazing, you know that?”

Jalisa glanced at her, unsure of how to receive the compliment.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

And that was the kind of morning it became. Unhurried. Gentle. Full of small conversations, baby coos, and sisterhood. The kind that stitched a life together.

Later that afternoon, when the house settled again and the visitors left, Jalisa stood near the window with one baby on her hip, watching the wind move through the trees.

Her phone buzzed.

Joshua: Good, that’s all I want for you.

Jalisa stared out at the light slanting across the yard. Her heart softened.

Maybe this was the beginning of something she didn’t need to define just yet. Maybe it was enough to be here, in this moment, surrounded by love in its many forms.

And maybe there was still more to come.

Later in the afternoon, Jalisa stood in the hallway of the guest bathroom, a towel slung over her shoulder and her edges brushed back with water. Her thick coils were free from the usual bun she kept tucked at the nape of her neck, springing loose in every direction. She gave the bathroom door a light knock.

“Trin,” she called softly.

Trinity peeked out, eyebrows raised, still wearing her oversized tie-dye T-shirt and leggings. “Yeah, sis?”

Jalisa leaned against the doorframe with an amused, almost shy smile. “You still know how to flat iron some hair?”

Trinity let out a laugh and opened the door wider. “Girl, you asking the right one! Come in here. Let’s get that head right.”

They turned the bathroom into a little salon with the counter lined with oils, clips, a paddle brush, and Trinity’s travel-size flat iron. Jalisa sat on the edge of the tub while Trinity got the sink water just right. As Trinity gently worked her fingers through Jalisa’s hair, massaging in the shampoo, the room filled with the sound of water, quiet music, and easy conversation.

“You always had thick hair like this?” Trinity asked, rinsing Jalisa’s curls.

“Since birth,” Jalisa said with a laugh. “My mama used to say it was like combing through roots in a forest.”

Trinity grinned. “Well, the forest is thriving, okay?”

They talked about everything and nothing like kids, family, how Mariah was basically Jayla’s shadow now, and how the twins had been sleeping through the night like tiny miracles. When the flat iron came out, they moved to the guest room, where Jalisa sat in front of the mirror and Trinity took her time parting, oiling, and smoothing section after section.

It was intimate in a way only sisterhood could be, no judgment, just warmth and care. When Trinity did the final pass and laid Jalisa’s edges, they both admired the look in the mirror.

“Oh, you got me feeling like I’m about to go somewhere,” Jalisa said, fluffing the silky strands.

Trinity winked. “Even if it’s just the living room, at least you’re going there laid.”

They burst out laughing, the kind that fills a home with joy.

Jalisa had just stepped out of the guest room, her freshly pressed hair bouncing gently around her shoulders, when she heard the front door creak open. She paused at the top of the stairs, her hand resting on the banister, just as she heard the unmistakable shuffle of plastic grocery bags.

“Hello?” Joshua’s voice called from the foyer.

Trinity, who was in the kitchen pouring herself a glass of sweet tea, peeked around the corner. “It’s just your baby daddy,” she said with a smirk.

Jalisa rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her faint smile as she slowly descended the stairs. “What you doing here?” she asked, her voice lighter than expected.

Joshua looked up, bags dangling from each arm and for a second, his words caught in his throat. Jalisa stood there with her hair straightened, skin glowing from the steam of the earlier wash, and a soft pink lounge set that hugged her frame gently. She looked like peace.

He cleared his throat and held the bags up. “Almia sent me. Said you probably needed groceries and you weren’t about to ask.”

Jalisa blinked. “Groceries?”

He stepped inside fully, placing the bags gently on the kitchen counter. “Yeah. Some soups, oat milk, stuff for the kids. And your protein shakes.”

“She thinks of everything,” Jalisa murmured, almost to herself, scanning through the bags.

“She does,” Joshua said. “But she also said I should bring them myself. Her words, not mine: ‘It wouldn’t kill you to be useful.’”

Trinity cackled from the other side of the kitchen.

Jalisa picked up a carton of eggs. “She really know how to delegate.”

Joshua’s eyes lingered on her hair as she tucked a piece behind her ear. “You straightened it?”

“Trinity did it,” she said, glancing over at her sister-in-law with a thankful smile. “Haven’t worn it like this in a while.”

“It looks good,” he said quietly, meaningfully. “Like, really good.”

Jalisa looked at him for a beat too long, then nodded once and returned her attention to the bags. “Thank you… for bringing this.”

Joshua shifted his weight, watching her move, so different from the woman he once knew who never let herself rest. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Tired. But today’s been good. The twins are two months now.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “I looked at the date the other day and just... sat with that for a second.”

There was a long pause between them, comfortable but thick with everything unsaid. He wasn’t pushing. And somehow, that made it harder and easier at the same time.

She looked back up at him. “You wanna see them?”

He gave a small smile. “Always.”

Once the groceries were put away. Trinity had retreated to the living room with a snack and her phone. Jalisa had gone upstairs to the nursery with Joshua.

Joshua stood beside the bassinet with one arm behind his back and the other hand lightly stroking Jaquala’s cheek with his knuckle.

“She just woke up?” he asked quietly, glancing back at Jalisa.

“She was fussing a little, probably a little gassy. I burped her, but she’s clingy today,” Jalisa replied.

He nodded, and his eyes didn’t leave the baby.

“Wanna hold her?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Joshua didn’t speak, just extended both hands instinctively, the way he always did. Jalisa smiled faintly and stepped forward, gently placing Jaquala into his arms. Her tiny face was scrunched with sleep, her breath warm and rhythmic against Joshua’s chest as he adjusted her, resting her securely along his forearm with practiced ease.

She fit perfectly against him.

Jalisa didn’t leave the room. She just watched him.

Joshua swayed a little as he stood, rocking side to side with unconscious tenderness. He looked down at Jaquala, brushing her soft curls with his thumb. “She got your lips,” he murmured.

“And your eyebrows,” Jalisa answered, her voice wrapped in something fond, almost shy.

He chuckled. “And that look of judgment already. That’s all you.”

Jalisa laughed quietly, then leaned against the doorframe. Her arms crossed over her chest, not in defense, but to hold something still inside her.

“I miss this,” Joshua said after a long pause. “Not just the babies. Just… being here.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were on the curve of his shoulder where Jaquala now dozed, her little fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. The way he held her, like there was nothing else in the world worth doing but keeping her safe.

“I know,” Jalisa finally said. “And I know you’ve been trying. You really have.”

Joshua looked up. “That mean I’m doing okay?”

“You’re doing more than okay,” she said, gently. “It’s just gonna take time. For me.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not rushing you. I just wanted you to know I meant what I said. Back then. About doing it different this time.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, it was thick, warm, the kind of silence that two people only share when they’ve already spoken the most important things.

She stepped forward and adjusted the blanket on Jaquala’s tiny feet. Her hand brushed his forearm.

“Thanks for the groceries,” she said.

He looked at her, not just at her words, but the way she stood a little closer now, a softness around her eyes. “Anytime.”

Jaquala let out a little breathy sigh in her sleep, and both parents looked down at her with the same quiet awe.

“She’s safe with you,” Jalisa whispered.

Joshua met her gaze. “So are you.”

That’s when she knew he wasn’t just holding their daughter. He was holding space for all of them.

Even her.

Next: Look What You Did 10

50 notes · View notes

msiggyy · 9 months ago

Text

Dracule Mihawks Unknown Visitor

Summary: Dracule Mihawk is a man of many secrets, so naturally, he greeted Zoro and Perona with silence when they asked him about his unusual mood during their unannounced visit to his castle on Kuragana Island. However, it all starts to make sense once a stranger unexpectedly at the door.

Fandom: One Piece

Relationships: Mihawk x Reader / Female OC

Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Female reader, Zoro and Perona

Notes: Hello♡ This is just a silly and slightly romantic little idea I came up with, so I had to get it out of my system. I posted this Fanfic on my AO3 as well (DelayedStrawberry). I hope you enjoy reading!

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩Dracule Mihawks Unknown Visitor ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk sits on his usual throne chair in the tea room, holding the newspaper in his hands as he lazily reads through it. There’s a fresh cup of tea by his side, and a book to keep him occupied later on. He’s wearing his frilly white shirt today, alongside his long black pants, his black boots and a cross necklace. The air around the castle seems calm and undisturbed, except for the loud voices of Zoro and Perona talking in the living room down the hall. Thankfully Mihawk has the door shut, and told them to shut the living room door too. They’re visiting for around two weeks against Mihawk's will, so he’s got one week left of them making a mess of the place. The pair decided to come unannounced again. This is what, the third time this year? What a bother.

Mihawk sighs, the fluttering of the newspaper being heard throughout the room as he shifts in his seat. They’re still too loud. But no matter…they made him some rice and vegetable soup in the morning so he can’t get too angry. Granted, they did an awful job on it, but he can’t deny they still tried their best.

“Aw come on Zoro, hold still.” Perona whines in a frustrated tone as Zoro sits between her legs.

“I’m trying! But you keep tugging on my hair…I’m not some statue!” Zoro spits back, changing his seating position for the hundredth time.

Perona has somehow convinced Zoro to let her braid his hair. He’s grown it out pretty long over the summer and she’s been bugging him about it for weeks, so she’s got him trapped between her legs as she sits on the couch.

“Pfft not trying hard enough. I thought you were some strong swordsman, you can handle my hands in your hair, right?” Perona tugs another piece of his hair, giggling as she does so.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough!” Zoro suddenly stands up and knocks Perona over backwards on the couch, a breathless gasp escaping her. He promptly runs his fingers through his hair to get rid of the braids, but manages to tangle his hair instead.

“That was like an hour's work!” Perona whines, crossing her arms over her chest as she sinks into the couch with a pout.

“Dammit, what did you do to it…it’s getting tangled.” Zoro murmurs as he continues to try and get the braids out.

“Why do you ALWAYS have to be like this?? I was nearly done.” She whines, the pout on her face growing deeper.

“I don’t care. And I don’t want your grubby hands in my hair anyway!” Zoro retorts, his voice rising.

Perona gasps. “Grubby??? How DARE you insinuate-”

Zoro cuts her off. “I’m not insinuating, I’m stating a damn fact. You’re just an annoying grubby girl who can’t seem to begin to imagine what diseases live under HER fingernails!”. His hands are furiously running through his hair to get rid of the braids, but miserably failing.

“Oh yeah? Well, your mouth is a disease!” Perona’s voice gets slightly louder, and she sits up straighter on the couch as she looks up at him.

“Oh how original of you.” He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and looking off to the side.

“How about we ask Mihawk what he thinks?? I’m sure he’ll agree with me!” Perona says with conviction, a small smile on her face.

“He would agree with a bag of rocks before he would agree with you!” Zoro laughs loudly, stepping back closer to the couch to loom over Perona with a half grin.

“N-NO!” Perona stutters out, her smile dropping, knowing Zoro's right.

“Then we agree. You’re grubby.” Zoro says as he leans down and gets close to Peronas face.

“We do NOT agree! Ugh this isn’t fair!” She looks back into Zoro's eyes with a stubborn expression.

Zoro's voice rises as his frustration comes back with a crash. “Not fair??…Not FAIR?? You messed up my damn hair! It’s gonna take days for it to look good again!”

“It never looked good in the first place so I don’t know why you’re so worried!” Perona shouts, getting up in his face even more.

“Says the pink haired FREAK!” Zoro shouts back.

“Your hair is GREE-” Zoro cuts her off by quickly clamping a hand over her mouth.

“God, quiet down! Mihawks’ already been in a bad enough mood lately, don’t make it worse.” Zoro says in a hushed tone, saying it as if he wasn’t also shouting.

Perona grumbles under his hand, but then they hear something. It sounds like footsteps, but not the demanding ones of Mihawk…but the softer and lighter kind, and they’re coming from outside the castle. The two slowly turn their heads simultaneously towards the sound of them, their eyes growing wider.

Perona prys Zoros’ hand off of her mouth, both of them still trying to listen.

“Who’s that…?” Perona whispers, her ears straining to hear who’s footsteps they are.

“I don’t know.” Zoro whispers back. “It seems to be coming from outside.”

“An intruder??” Perona whispers, a bit of alarm in her voice.

Zoro shrugs as Perona gets off of the couch, quickly floating across the living room to the window. She peers through it and Zoro goes to stand behind her. However, due to the distance and the angle, they can’t see who it is. Perona huffs and floats out of the living room door to go towards the front entrance of the castle. Zoros’ eyebrows shoot up. There’s been a warning from Mihawk about how there’s been a gang of pirates in the nearby seas causing unusual trouble lately, and told them to be careful.

“Wait for me, you’ll get yourself killed!” Zoro shouts after her. He sighs and straightens up, walking after Perona who’s already halfway down the hallway.

Zoro stumbles a bit as he leaves the living room, his hand now occupied with his tangled hair as he tries to follow Perona as fast as he can.

The two walk through the castle halls and various rooms with gothic furniture and colours, although Zoro is more distracted by trying to fix his messy green strands.

“Dammit.” He curses under his breath, stumbling into a chair.

Perona rolls her eyes and grabs Zoros’ hand, yanking it out of his tangled locks. “You’re gonna get lost again if you keep thinking of your stupid hair.” She says in an annoyed tone. Zoro just protests under his breath, and the two of them walk to the main entrance of the castle.

The main entrance of Mihawks’ castle is quite the large area, with an even larger door. The floor is covered in dark green shiny diamond tiles, and the 3 metre door is dark brown with a vintage golden handle. The footsteps seem to be coming towards the entryway, so Zoro pulls his swords out just in case, and Peronas’ heart pounds a little faster.

“What if they’re here to kill Mihawk??” Perona whispers, looking up at Zoro.

“I could take them…” Zoro mutters.

Perona pauses for a second. “Yeah, that’s what you said about Mihawk.”

Zoro glares at her, clearly unamused.

The footsteps come even closer to the door, still sounding soft and light. Zoro and Perona tense up.

“It couldn’t be a guest, right? Mihawk never has guests. The old man barely has friends.” Zoro whispers.

“Mhmm. And we weren’t told of any guests, he would tell us!” Perona whispers in a whiny voice.

The footsteps are heard even closer, it sounds like they’re on the steps which lead up to the front door.

“Perona! Fix my hair, right now.” Zoro whispers, his voice laced with panic.

She quietly giggles and grabs his head so that she can properly take the braids out, the braids he so wonderfully tangled. Zoro keeps his eyes on the front door, the footsteps coming even closer.

“There bossy-I mean mossy. Your hair should be fine now.” Perona grins. Zoro gives her a half glare but decides to leave her comment until later. They both look at the entrance way, the footsteps even closer now and the air full of nerves. Zoro and Perona look at each other in anticipation before silently stepping towards the door.

The footsteps are heard right outside, and without a second thought Zoro flings the door open and raises his swords.

A loud scream is heard and papers fly everywhere as the person falls to the ground in fright. Zoros’ eyes widen…fuck. It’s just a postman.

“Oh g-god don’t kill me! P-please! I-I was sent here b-by the marines t-to give a letter to M-Mihawk! The birds aren’t in s-service at the moment! Mihawk k-knew I was coming I s-swear! I t-told them I wasn’t u-up for the job! This p-place is so-.” The poor postman rambles, frantically trying to pick up all the letters he dropped. Zoro rubs his temple and puts his swords away, he bends down to help the shaking man.

“Uhh sorry about that…we thought you were…” Zoro trails off.

“An intruder trying to kill Mihawk!” Perona exclaims loudly as she floats up behind Zoro, her hands on her hips and her lips pursed.

The young postman nervously smiles, stuffing a handful of letters into his bag. “Nope…h-hah…”

Zoro helps with putting the last papers in the mans’ bag, and gets handed a letter as they both stand up. “T-this is for Mihawk. It’s f-from the marines.” The postman says nervously, sweating and trembling slightly.

Zoro nods and clears his throat, waving the letter around slightly. “Yeah okay, we’ll give this to him. Thanks.”

The postman nods then starts to hurry off back down the stairs. Zoro grimaces slightly and sighs, then Perona speaks up.

“Pshh. Why would you do that, Zoro!? You pulled your swords out on an innocent man! How rude.” She puts her nose in the air and crosses her arms, floating away from him and back into the castle.

“WHA-!” Zoro stammers with a start, his head quickly turning towards her. He groans and shuts the door behind him and starts walking back into the castle too, muttering under his breath about how she’s the one who put the idea in his head that it was an intruder.

“You can’t just be swinging those swords around, you’ll take some innocent persons’ eyes out, you know.” Perona continues to talk as they cross the entrance way.

Zoro sighs heavily. “So much for an exciting day, guess we’ll go and…”

“Braid your hair again?” Perona turns around to look at him, a huge flashy grin on her face.

“No! I was gonna say we’ll go and get something to eat.” Zoro furrows his brow.

“Zoroooooooo!” She whines.

Zoro shakes his head in disbelief, and walks out of the castle's entrance down a hallway. Perona floats after him, a huge pout on her face.

As they enter the large kitchen, Zoro looks at the letter in his hand intended for Mihawk, and decides to put it on the kitchen counter for now.

The two settle down on the stools with food from this mornings’ breakfast, and they silently wonder why Mihawk didn’t eat it all…maybe he wasn’t hungry, he’s been in a pretty bad mood lately. At least, more than usual. They did try to pester him about it, but Mihawk likes to keep things to himself.

Stillness washes over the room as the two eat for about an hour, not bothering to talk to each other. Perona’s still pouty and Zoro wants some peace for once.

Just before they finish eating…they hear more footsteps coming from the outside of the castle. Lighter than what they heard the postman make.

Zoro furrows his brow, slamming his chopsticks onto the table as he looks up. “What the hell?”

Perona tilts her head, her mouth full of food. “Postman again?”

“No…these sound different…I don’t like it.” Zoro stands up and begins to walk back towards the front door, a bit of fire in his eyes. What’s the chances of this happening twice in one day? Perona starts feeling a bit uneasy, and quickly floats behind Zoro to keep close to him.

They get to the entrance way of the castle again, and begin to listen. These footsteps aren’t like the postmans’. These sounded more calculated, or like they had more of a purpose. Perona instinctively clutches Zoros’ arm tightly, wrapping her own arm around his.

“Okay, this one REALLY feels like an intruder.” Perona whispers, her hold tightening on Zoro.

“Yeah these sound a bit…strange.” Zoro whispers back, narrowing his eyes at the door.

The footsteps seem to be hurrying a bit, and they quickly hear them going up the steps to the front door. Zoro and Perona step back slightly, not wanting to redo their last encounter with a stranger, and going for a more hands off approach for this one.

Someone's unknown footsteps walk right up to the entrance. The door slowly opens, shit. They didn’t lock it after they encountered the postman. Zoros’ eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat and his heart pounding. Perona hides behind Zoro, continuing to keep her own arm securely and tightly around his, her heart going a million beats per second.

As the door slowly opens, someone on the other side mutters about how the damn thing shouldn’t be so heavy. They seem to struggle to get it open, the door actually shutting again before opening for the second time. The two look at each other with puzzled expressions, but still on guard.

The door finally opens, and a woman they don’t recognise steps inside. Her eyes land on the two but she doesn’t flinch, she gives off an air of confidence which is slightly intimidating. Zoro seems to relax at the sight of this woman but he keeps his guard up, while Perona tenses up even more as her intuition suggests this woman is bad news.

Zoro clears his throat, keeping his distance from her and speaking in a firm voice. “What’s your name?”

“y/n. Who are you two?” She says with a light smile as she looks over the two, noting their tense bodies and narrowed eyes.

Zoro looks the woman over, noting her put together demeanour. “I’m Zoro, and this is Perona.”

Perona doesn’t like this one bit, she knows that a pretty and innocent smile can hide all sorts of danger. So she speaks to y/n in a cold tone. “You’re here to harm Mihawk, aren’t you?”

y/n looks slightly puzzled but stays calm.”Who said I was here to hurt him?”

Zoro and Perona glance at each other for a moment, not liking her response in the slightest. It seems like she’s dancing around their question.

“Well…y/n, you’re clearly in the castle without Mihawks’ permission. Of course we would think that’s what you’re here to do.” Zoro says sternly, his eyes narrowing even more and his hand going to the hilt of his sword, feeling protective over Mihawk.

“Oh, well…I’m-”But before y/n can respond, Perona cuts her off.

“Don’t say another word! I know a liar when I see one, so whatever you have to say we don’t believe you!” Perona bristles, her tone challenging. Zoro gives Perona a look portraying that he wants her to calm down, but she doesn’t care. Her heart’s set on y/n being an intruder.

“I can assure-” y/n begins, but gets cut off by Perona again.

“We know Mihawk never has guests, and we’ve never heard of you before! And it would be too much of a coincidence if both strangers who’ve shown up are innocent! So get your small butt out of here and go back to where you came from, woman.” She says firmly, untangling her arms from Zoro and crossing them over her chest instead.

Zoro shakes his head in disbelief with how Perona is behaving, but he’s still very much on edge by this mystery woman, there’s definitely a better way to handle this. But despite Zoros’ concern, he knows Perona is just as protective of Mihawk as he is, it just comes across a little differently.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this.” y/n sighs, then begins walking past the two and heading across the entrance way, clearly intending to head deeper into the castle.

Zoro and Perona feel a wave of concern wash over them, so they follow after her. Perona floats pretty quickly behind y/n, while Zoro strides behind them with his hand still on the hilt of his sword.

“Hey, woman! Where do you think you’re going? We weren’t done talking to you!” Perona calls after her, catching up to y/n pretty quickly as they all go down the long hallway.

“You were the one doing most of the talking, and insulting.” y/n says aloofly as she continues to walk. Perona only gets more angry at her response.

“Who do you think you are?? You’re the one who’s here without anyone's permission.” Perona scowls.

“We can’t let you waltz in here unannounced to see Mihawk!” Zoro barks from behind them, his anger flaring up as y/n doesn’t seem to have any intent to stop walking.

y/n sighs to herself, clearly fed up with the two, the air around them tense. “I tried telling you why I’m here, but you kept cutting me off. So why should I even bother.” She says as she opens some doors to walk through one of the spare rooms.

“Because we don’t trust you. Whatever you say, it'll be a lie, so you're not allowed anywhere near him!” Perona says loudly, her voice full of frustration. y/n furrows her brow but doesn’t stop moving.

“I’m getting a headache.” y/n says as she pushes through some more doors, going through yet another big room.

“Yeah right. Try having 2 unannounced people turn up today.” Zoro huffs, his glare on the back of y/n’s head.

Perona nods, her grumpiness growing as she agrees with Zoro. “You say you’re getting a headache, but we’ve stressed out twice already in the past hour!”

As y/n pushes through another set of doors, they get into the long dimly lit hallway that leads to Mihawks’ throne room. Zoro and Perona get even more on edge, what the hell does she want with him?

“You can’t just walk around the house like you own the place!” Perona says angrily with a hint of redness growing on her cheeks, following y/n at her heels. Zoros’ frustration builds as well, noting that y/n isn’t even replying to them anymore and clearly going towards Mihawk.

“y/n! You can’t just go into Mihawks’ throne room uninvited!” Zoro calls out, bringing out one of his swords in case things get ugly.

“Watch me.” y/n says calmly, looking straight ahead as they begin to approach the door.

“Goddammit y/n! Do you have a death wish or something?” Zoros’ voice gets a little frantic, and Peronas’ heart beats quicker than it was already.

“Mihawks gonna kill us if we’re the reason he gets killed.” Perona whispers to Zoro, getting a nod out of him as he takes a deep breath to brace himself for the inevitable.

The 3 reach the door leading into Mihawks’ throne room. Zoro and Perona exchange a glance, then without any hesitation y/n opens it and walks inside.

Inside the throne room Mihawk sits there with a book in hand and the newspaper off to the side, his teacup is empty and he’s got his usual stoic expression. When the 3 walk in he looks up, a hint of curiosity on his face. His gaze immediately falls onto y/n, and his eyes grow wide alongside his pupils dilating. His hands lose grip of the book he was reading and it falls onto the ground with a soft thud.

Perona points at y/n. “We told-” Before she could speak she yelps in pain, Zoro nudging her ribs with his elbow to shut her up, knowing Mihawk can surely handle the situation from here.

“Y-y/n?” Mihawk says breathlessly, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his eyes still wide.

She swallows, her breathing becoming a little shallow as her heart races just the same. “They let me leave early.”

Mihawk keeps looking at her, and says in a breathless voice as he absorbs her words. “You’re back…early…” He can’t believe his eyes.

Zoro and Peronas’ anger makes way for the overwhelming confusion they feel as they look over the interaction, Zoro puts his sword away but keeps his guard up.

“Mihawk…you know her?” Zoro asks quietly, his voice full of confusion and slight concern.

Mihawk doesn’t take his eyes off of y/n, and struggles to speak as he replies in a horse whisper. “Yes…I know her.”

y/n walks closer to Mihawk as he stands up from his throne. His eyes set on her, not even seeming to register Zoro and Perona anymore. Mihawk stands still as he watches her approach, not able to move a muscle from the shock and disbelief.

As they’re only centermeres apart, Mihawk brings up his hand to cup y/ns’ face and gently runs his thumb over her cheek. y/n puts her hand around his wrist as he touches her, gently caressing his arm with her own thumb. He looks down at her and his face visibly softens, and so does hers as she looks up at him.

“They let you come home early…” Mihawk murmurs, swimming in a wave of emotions as he looks at her, it’s almost overwhelming.

y/n nods her head slowly, closing her eyes for a moment as she takes in the feel of his hand on her face. Mihawk then grabs her waist and pulls her against him, moving his other hand from her face to her waist as well and holding her tightly in his arms. y/n puts her arms around his neck firmly, leaning her face against his chest as Mihawk buries his face into the crook of her neck and taking a deep breath as he breathes her in.

Zoro and Perona look stunned, they’re completely speechless and wide eyed as they look on, their mouths open from shock.

“Is it just me…or is Mihawk acting really weird right now? And what did he mean by home? Do you think they’re-” Perona whispers to Zoro.

“I…I don’t know…but he’s acting weird alright.” Zoro whispers, mulling over the scene before them.

Mihawk holds y/n close to him, closing his eyes as he feels her body against his and the smell of her in his nostrils. They stay like this for about a minute or two in silence, just being in each other's arms and breathing the other in. In this moment, they’re just two people who have been apart for far too long.

“They should know, darling.” Mihawk murmurs hazily to y/n after a few minutes of silence, smiling lightly as he glances over at the two who look gobsmacked. He feels quite amused by how shocked they look, but refrains from laughing.

“Yeah they should, my love.” y/n murmurs back just as hazily, looking at them as well.

Mihawk kisses her neck lightly and then turns his gaze to Zoro and Perona, shifting his body so that only one arm is around her waist. Zoro and Perona wait nervously, and straighten up when Mihawk looks at them.

Mihawk lightly smiles, his haziness still prominent. “Zoro, Perona…this is y/n. She’s-” He takes a short breath, looking at y/n for a moment before looking back at the pair. “...my wife.”

Zoros’ eyes widen even further, if that’s even possible, and he opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Perona on the other hand, her face goes pale. She told this woman some awful things, even telling her she can’t walk around the house like she owned the place…when she did in fact, own the place.

“Oh my god y/n, I’m so SO sorry! I spoke to you so harshly…I thought you were an intruder and some liar!” Perona says frantically, floating up to y/n with a panicked expression. Mihawk narrows his eyes on Perona, ingesting this new information.

y/n smiles faintly and gently puts a hand on Peronas shoulder. “I understand you were just trying to protect Mihawk.” She speaks softly, knowing that Perona seems genuinely apologetic.

“Don’t speak to her like that again.” Mihawk sternly warns as y/n squeezes her shoulder, sending a shiver down Peronas spine causing her to frantically nod her head.

Perona heavily breathes out and floats back to Zoro, her cheeks red with embarrassment as she hides her face in her hands. Zoro stands still looking between the two, his brow furrowed and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head.

“You’ve been MARRIED this whole time? Why the hell haven’t we heard of her?” Zoro says in a defeated tone, scratching his head from nerves as the information sinks into him further.

“Because I’m a big name in this world, so when we got together many years ago I decided I don’t want y/n to potentially suffer the consequences that come with it. If everyone found out she’s my partner, there’s no telling what sort of people could go after her.” Mihawk says with a tough expression, his hand tightening around her waist instinctively. Perona just nods her head slowly, while Zoro still looks confused. “She’s precious to me, and I don’t want anything happening to her.”

Zoro feels respect washing over his heart, and also a lot of understanding. But he’s still finding it hard to process all of this, and can’t help but ask a little further.

“How is that even possible…” Zoro breathes out.

“We just don’t go flaunting it about, we’ve found it ensures our peace and her safety.” Mihawk replies softly, a hint of vulnerability within his words. “However, we didn’t say NO ONE knows about our marriage.” Mihawk says as he smirks lightly and feels a rush of pride run through his veins, him and y/n sharing a knowing look.

Zoros’ eyes widen again, looking between them once more. “Who else knows?”

“The other warlords, Shanks, some of the top marines, my family, Luffy…” y/n explains calmly, leaning against Mihawk a bit more.

Zoro looks flabbergasted. “LUFFY??” Perona also whips her head between the two as the information that Luffy, out of all people, know about them.

“Yeah he saw us at a restaurant a while back, and we told him to keep it a secret.” y/n says with a light smirk, squeezing Mihawks’ side lightly.

Zoro tuts and looks away, crossing his arms. This is all too weird for him.

Perona then speaks up, breaking her own silence. “How long have you two been married then?”

Mihawk smiles, feeling another rush of pride going through his veins. “Almost 7 years now.”

“Mhmm, almost.” y/n smiles, her head resting on his arm.

Zoro and Perona look gobsmacked again. They can’t help but gawk at the couple, and still have a hard time coming to terms that THE Dracule Mihawk has a wife, and for 7 years? Mihawk sighs as he looks at their faces, deciding to clear things up a bit more.

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I want her to be safe, so I don’t feel the need to announce my personal life to everyone, unless it’s necessary. So I expect you two won’t go off and talk about this. Am I clear?” Mihawk looks between the two with his piercing hawkeye gaze, speaking in his scarily stern voice.

“Yeah…of course.” Zoro manages to say, tensing up at the sternness of Mihawks’ voice.

“I won’t tell a soul, living or dead.” Perona says as she nods her head quickly, her hands scrunching up her dress from the stress of being under Mihawks’ gaze.

“Good, now…you two, out. We need some alone time. We’ll answer more of your questions you’re sure to have, later.” Mihawk says in a firm voice, carrying a hint of impatience.

“Okay okay we’ll go…” Perona breathes, floating out of the throne room. Zoro just nods and follows after her, shutting the door behind them. Once they’re out of the room they can hear Zoro speak to Perona in a hushed voice. “By the way, I haven’t forgotten about how you called me bossy earlier!”

Mihawk sighs in relief and takes y/ns’ hand, sitting back down on his throne and bringing her down with him. He brings her into his lap and she sits sideways so that she’s cradled by Mihawks’ strong arms. He looks over her features, taking her in silently for a moment. Before he leans down and gently connects their lips in a soft and tender kiss, y/ns’ hand going to the side of his neck as she closes her eyes.

After a few moments, they pull back.

“I missed you…” Mihawk murmurs against her lips, pressing their foreheads together, their eyes still closed.

“I missed you too…” y/n murmurs back, breathing in his scent again.

Mihawk opens his warm honey eyes, and talks in a slightly concerned tone. “So, darling. Why did you come back early? You weren’t due to come back for another 2 months, not that I’m complaining, but did something happen?”

y/n shakes her head. “Nothing happened, I just missed you…3 months away from you took a toll on me, again. So they said it was alright for me to leave.”

He hums in acknowledgement, closing his eyes again. “I don’t like when you’re gone, I don’t like when your side of the bed is cold every night.”

It’s y/ns’ turn to sigh, tears sting her eyes slightly. “I know, darling. I don’t think I can do it anymore, I can’t keep leaving for months when I’d rather be here, with you.”

Mihawk holds her a little tighter as she says that, his face full of pain and longing. “I don’t think I can handle it either, y/n, I struggle when you’re gone. I want you to be here with me, where I can keep you safe.”

“I think…I’m gonna quit the job.” y/n says abruptly as she opens her eyes, her face portraying her longing and slight nervousness.

His eyes open in shock, widening as he takes in the information. “Really? Darling-” He says breathlessly, his arms tightening around her even more than before.

“Really. I’ll call them in the morning to tell them I’m done.” She says softly as she brings her hand up to caress his cheek.

“I thought…you were going to hold out a little longer.” Mihawk murmurs, his eyes searching hers. This feels like a lot of information she’s suddenly dumping on him.

“I know, I know…but I just…can’t. It’s unbearable. I know my job will get upset with me, but as long as I’m with you, I don’t care.” y/n murmurs back, nuzzling his nose with her own.

“Okay…good.” Mihawk says as he takes a shaky breath and smiling lightly, his eyes never leaving her face.

“You know…you dropped your book on the ground earlier, Dracule.” She mutters a little teasingly, a grin growing on her face.

“Oh be quiet, I was distracted…” Mihawk mutters as a slight blush of pink spreads over his cheeks, but he can’t help smiling down at her and running his fingers through her hair.

y/n giggles warmly, and brings Mihawk into another gentle kiss. His hand going under her shirt to her back, so he can feel her soft skin for the first time in months, and her thumb caresses the growing warmth on his face.

For the rest of the day, evening and night. The two spend their time in each other's arms and talking about y/ns’ journey out at sea. Zoro and Perona have decided to be quiet for once, and keep their distance so as to not disturb them. Mihawk and y/n go to bed that night curled up as close as they can get, feeling content and happy as they doze off to sleep.

Notes: This is my first Fanfic, so I kept it relatively short! This is also the first time I'm posting it to Tumblr, and I'm new here so I'll see how it goes <3 i hope everyone has a good day/night♡

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keyaho · 6 months ago

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summary: Jon fails to saves a young woman as her home is destroyed. She’s found among the decaying planet and is taken to Arkham. Later taken to Oa, “Spade” is trained alongside other Green Lantern recruits, the organization secretly hopes to tap into her powers, and Jon becomes her trainer. They begin to blur the lines and when the organization confronts her she learns Jon closeness was because he was instructed to. Spade ices everyone out, the heart break turning her cold. When The Batman Who Laughs begins his terror on another planet, Jon and Spade must work together. Spade keeps things strictly business but Jon plans to do anything within his power to earn Spade’s trust and heart again.

parings: John Stewart x quasi-human!mutant black oc

Chapter I: Atonement

➣ Six months later, Spade is brought into Jon's control center for a much needed talk.

Six Months Later. Oa Citadel Training Room. 2:30PM

"Pretty Purple Princess,' a group of her fellow recruits teased while she was flat on her back after another failed sparing session.

She was bruised along the back of her thighs and her knees were scraped up from their outside physical training. Trying to climb ropes with no upper body strength while no one helped was mind breaking. On a planet of thousands, she was alone and it left a bitter longing taste in her mouth. Everyone had their groups and after cleaning up she found herself sitting alone for another meal in the dining hall.

Clutching her tray she found a corner to sit alone. The hall was loud with conversation as people talked, laughed, and joked around with each other. She opted to eat, hunched over her plate in an attempt to keep her head down.

"Can we sit here,' a soft feminine voice asked.

"What's your name,' another girl spoke sweetly, a bright smile on her face. "I'm Koriand'r, but you can call me Kori!" She looked to the other girl that had already sat down. "That's Raven!"

She was exuberant and instead of responding the Xanshian stood up abruptly and grabbed her tray to flee. These jokes were getting out of hand. The last time someone asked to sit with her, she ended up with milk spilled on her and her food ruined. No one here was nice because they wanted to be nice.

"Hey!" Kori called out, 'wait!"

"Let her go,' Raven replied.

Yael tossed her tray into the disposal after fleeing the dining hall. The fear had suppressed her appetite and the bowl of rice was no longer appealing to her. She avoided people at all cost, choosing to keep to herself because it was easier. It was safer. Honestly, she didn't know why they all were so adamant on bothering her. There were dozens of new faces since she had appeared and they were still drawn to disrupt her.

The only person that had been consistent in their behavior was J'onn. He checked in weekly and she knew he was monitoring her progress, which was minimal. It was obvious Oa was about unity and teamwork, so it was isolating for Yael to be without that support and no one willing to give her a try.

As the dinging hall filled for dinner, Yael headed towards the dorms. Hers was on the end of the hall and she had no roommate, further isolating herself away from everyone. It was better than Blackgate and Arkham, but the solitude was different. Surrounded by so many people yet, ignored beyond the teasing and bullying. As she swiped her ID card to enter her room, the ear piece chirped. It had been quiet all day, other than morning briefings and group assignments, or J'onn.

Psylocke. Report to Commander Stewart's control center….

The automated voice clicked off as fast as it came and she closed her door while stepping back into the hall.

Yael walked towards the stairwells and avoided the crowded speed walk areas. She would have gotten to his center a few minutes earlier, but the hassle of being cut off or pushed in line wasn't worth it. Tugging down the sleeves of her jacket, she tucked her hands into the jacket pockets. Her lilac colored hair was pulled back into two low space buns at the nape of her neck. Some of her hair had escaped the buns and framed her face. She knew she looked unkept, and the last time she came into Jon's office that way he made her use his bathroom to get herself together.

Stopping outside of his door, she took out one of the hair ties and slicked all the hair back into it. She repeated on the other side and stepped up to the door before it slid open to reveal the large command room. Large screens covered the wall, showing various places, planets, but their current focus was Earth. John's assigned planet to protect.

As she walked towards the balcony railing that overlooked the main work space, she could hear him speaking with J'onn over projection. She made herself known by coming down the stairs and stepping in his line of sight.

"Stand up straight, Cadet,' he greets her as his call ends. He's still dressed for drill; black fatigue pants, a deep green fitted shirt, and boots. It was a homage to his former days as a Marine.

Jon sighed. This was the opposite of what J'onn had asked him to do. They had noticed one month in the harsher, typical Cadet training wasn't effective. He knew why. She didn't trust them. They both knew she wasn't a Cadet. She was on par with the Lanterns, she just didn't trust anyone to show it and they didn't create a space for that trust. She was an adult and her stay here was that of a child.

He came to the edge of his desk and sat on the corner of it. Her file in his hand.

"You aren't making progress." He said matter-of-factly.

He opened the file and began reading some of the comments from trainers. "Recommended training puts you in Close Combat and Special Teams." Jon was slightly impressed. "Both are hard to qualify in. I want you to explain groups. You have no progress there."

"No one wants to work with me, Sir." She shrugged. "I've tried."

He'd seen some of her training footage. How she approached others to partner up and they ignored her or some of the harassment she had to deal with. Oa was supposed to be about community, team work, and the collective. She was living the opposite.

"There is something we need to discuss,' Jon says, realizing he'd need to admit his regrets to her. He avoided her and his assignment, using her adjustment period as an excuse. He was never one to put aside or run from his responsibilities, but this had been his greatest loss to date.

"Okay,' she replied slowly after picking up his shift in tone.

Jon stood to his full height again. He placed her file down and sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before propping them on his hips.

"You were a Princess on Xanshi."

She looked up at him and then away. At the mention of her home planet her jaw tightened and ticked. She tried not to think about what happened because no one would understand being the only one left of their people.

"Martian Manhunter and I were tasked to defend the planet from the Anti-Life Equation. We had gotten word it was somewhere on the planet." He explained. "I was brazen and made a decision that backfired in the most horrendous way."

Yael reached up, wiping the tears on her face. She sniffled while sliding back into attention. The sadness was etched into her face and Jon had a hard time looking at her.

"There was also a Blink Bomb alongside the A.L.E. If we were able to stop it we could have extracted the equation and disposed of it properly, saving…'

"I get it,' she interjects, 'it was out of your control."

Her summary of his story was blunt and biting, but not accusatory. She had already lost so much there was no need to harbor anger. It was an emotion that made her physically sick.

"You are still owed,' he replied, 'and an apology can not undo what is done, but I am sorry Psylocke."

The assigned name, because she refused to give her own, still felt odd on the ears, but she had grown use to the moniker. Most on Oa had one.

"I don't know what to say,' she shrugs. "And I don't mean that sentimentally. I honestly don't know what to say,' she grimaced as bitterness soured her tongue to the point she wanted to spit.. "I can not accept that apology right now."

These were unfamiliar feelings. She had been happy before. She had never had room to feel anything other than happiness. Xanshi was a place of it. Fierce warriors they might have been, are, they were about peace. Now that it was taken from her she didn't know how to feel. She just knew she wasn't happy anymore.

"I would never expect you to." He shifted his gaze to another file on the desk then held it out to her. "You've been assigned to my team for further training. I wanted to clear the ai-'

She took the folder in her hands and then stared at Commander Jon.

"To absolve yourself of guilt so you could treat me like a Cadet and not a lost child. You don't want to feel sorry for me during training."

Jon bit the inside of his cheek. Her perception of everything was through a lens of hurt. As easy as it would be to agree with her assessment it was far from the truth. He was truly sorry.

"I recommend you read your new schedule and requirements."

"What is,'

"You are dismissed Psylocke."

Yael sat in the center of her bed, a large wide tooth comb in her hands as she detangled her lilac colored curls. As she sat there, twisting her hair for the night, her room's hologram system appeared a few feet from her face. It was the same technology Jon had in his station that allowed him to speak with J'onn through projection.

It was a video message from "The Gang!". She was curious because the message came from Kori, the girl from the dining hall. Yael took a deep breath before commanding the video to play. It was a group of them, five other people she had seen in passing, waving with big smiles on their faces.

"Hi! Psylocke! Welcome to the team,' Kori screamed, her excitement throwing Yael off.

She thought back and Kori was probably trying to tell her about being on the team in the dining hall.

"We'll meet tomorrow, officially!"

The device shifts to the other girl that had been with her. Raven. There was chatter and introductions, but what caught her eye was Jon in the background, clearly annoyed. Glancing at the time she noted the video was taken before going to speak with him.

Of course the corrective action was to place her in a group. This particular team look to be a combination of 'outcasts'. She knew little of Kori and Raven, but the green boy she had seen around Oa, transforming into other people and animals at will to the jest of those watching. Or the black cyborg that towered over many of them as he walked through the halls. None of them had ever done anything to her, but like her, they kept their distance from everyone. It was only fitting they were all on the same team. A team she was now apart of.

The video played for a few more seconds, but it was Kori giving her a tour of their separate training space. She'd see it tomorrow, but the inclusion she had started to feel was nice. She felt welcomed. Kori and Raven seemed nice, but it was only a video and she would see for herself at 0200 the following morning.

"If you're up to it,' a boy said, suddenly taking the video, "we're eating in the dining hall tonight. Commander Jon won't be there." He threw in, much to Jon's further annoyance.

That only gave her twenty minutes to finish her hair, but she didn't want to go back down to eat. They'd have to wait until tomorrow. She needed to prepare herself and build the courage to train alongside people again.

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @eilujion @heytaewrites @insidefeelingofanadult @captainwithoutmakingitlove @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @virgomess @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz

@wabi-sabi1090 @iterum-incipi @liquorlaughslove @eilujion @taureanstargirl @mzv11@Disc0fair @prettyfilmz @simplyzeeka @heytaewrites vivaalenaa theogbadbitch

Insertcatchynamerighthere writingsbytee pocketsizedpanther @madamedantes

#john stewart x black!reader #john stewart fanfiction

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moyazaika · 6 months ago

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i would love to know random facts about ur ocs 😭 like what are their pet peeves, hated foods, what cologne do they like, do they prefer coffee or tea, what music do they listen to. it's little things like that that i like learning about bc it kinda brings them more to life in my eyes! love u hope ur doing well

woowww this is so cute and im so sad it got buried in my asks,, :( i'll talk about each of the pointers u mentioned with the oc i think it's most relevant to! hopefully soon i can sit down and revisit more of them in greater depth <3

kenny's pet peeve is privacy. working in security like he does, some aspects of his career bleed into his personal life with you; especially the surveillance. he wouldn't run the company if he didn't believe in its philosophy and importance. he genuinely doesn't understand why you would need to be apart from him/hide something for the sake of "privacy" if you really loved him like you say you do + it's sweet that you think he can take that risk with you, but at a certain point it's irritating him if it's something you really value and insist on, and at some point he makes it veeery clear that either you learn to live with it how it is now lest you push him to take a step even further :) whatever that means, don't ask! - unless you wanna find out that bad :)

valentine hates rice. and it's got nothing to do with the way it tastes. it just reminds him so much of his childhood, where his elder brother would fuck up and he'd have to take the blame for it, since nobody believed his word. he was never very attached to his family members, (resented his brother, michael) but the association of them with the food... the feeling of millions of individual uncooked grains of rice excruciatingly digging into his skin when his parents told him to sit on his knees and think about what he'd done... he can't stomach it now. passes it up even when you set a plate down in front of him, saying he'd rather save more for you but never telling you why he can't even quite manage to look at it.

h.. harper smells like,, d... dior sauvage... he doesn't know about the haha funny toxic manipulator thing,, he only got it 'cus he wanted to look expensive,,, thought it would impress you.... who's gonna tell him... (within a certain radius of harper the air quality drastically drops and the breathable air to sauvage ratio is a 1:99 at best)

dean prefers coffee. black. likes a little sugar, too, if you know what i'm sayin ;) it's less about balancing out the bitterness than it is the joy of dropping in the little cubes and watching them dissolve. :33

feroze listens to rock & metal. but it's a little more complex than that... he loves songs where the singer's voice gives way to a long instrumental, whether that's a guitar solo or something more traditional. he loves when lyrics are so emotional and raw that the only right way the musician discerns they should be delivered to the listener is by screaming them or whispering them or chanting them like a prayer. anything provocative and (paradoxically) comforting at the same time - the very epitome of art being made to disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed. won't ever say it, but he likes showing off how unique his music taste is (though a careful listener might see the pattern within the endless music is always you). feroze could genuinely spend hours merely going through and quietly enjoying the songs on his 99999+ messy and unorganised playlists with you if you'd like to listen <3 has hundreds dedicated to you as well <33

#wowwee this was fun!!!#thank u for sending this in nonnie i love you soso much :)))) <33 #ring ring #feroze #kenji #dean #haroer #valentine

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hagscribes · 1 year ago

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🦇 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

═══════════════════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹═══════════════════

✦ Hello all! Very new to writeblr, though I've been writing on and off for years now. I go by Lamia. 27, they/she, black.

✦ I write mostly high/dark fantasy with romance themes. Expect a lot of (gothic) horror and (some) science-fiction every once in a while. Enemies to lovers is my bread and butter, angst my drink of choice. Throw in a little tragedy, a few metaphors about the terror of religion, blood, and it's a feast. My writing is explicitly queer and so am I.

✦ Fanfiction and personal works will both be housed here. I am currently drafting a novel with a magic system that uses dragon remains as its primary fuel. Heavily in the research process, might even dabble with conlangs.

✦ I consider my main writing influences to be Anne Rice and Angela Carter. I do an awful lot of reading as well, so feel free to talk to me about anything book related! Some of my other favorite authors are Mary Shelley, Brandon Sanderson, and Holly Black. Please give me all your horror recs 🖤

✦ Asks and requests are encouraged, especially if they're about my OCs. I'd also love to learn all about yours!

✦ Mature and erotic content will be very much present in my works, though I will always do my best to tag appropriately. Please read any tags/warnings thoroughly. 18+ only.

✦ main blog is @princeofhags. ao3 is bitterhags.

writing | wips

#writeblr #writeblr intro #queer writers #queer authors #writing community

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amayaonly1 · 5 months ago

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Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 26

About: Eminem wakes up to an unfamiliar scene of his home filled with warmth and laughter, and the sight of Genji cooking breakfast alongside his daughters. As the morning unfolds, he is drawn to how naturally she fits into his world, forcing him to confront emotions he has long avoided. A conversation with Hailie pushes him to finally address what is between him and Genji.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Eminem wasn't used to waking up this late. The digital clock on his nightstand read 9:47 AM, and he just lay there momentarily, staring at the ceiling. His body felt heavier than usual, sluggish from a night of talking when he should've been sleeping. He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply before forcing himself upright.

The house was already alive. He could hear the clatter of dishes, the shuffle of footsteps, and the occasional stifled laughter drifting up from downstairs. His stomach twisted slightly at the thought of who might be down there.

Genji.

Damn.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss whatever it was that had him feeling like a teenager caught up in some dumb crush. Pulling a hoodie over his head, he let it hang loose over his frame and padded out of his room. As he made his way downstairs, the scent of vanilla filled the air, mixing with something more savoury; grilled fish, maybe. The early morning light spilt through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over the countertops.

He wasn't expecting much when he walked in, maybe one of the kids grabbing breakfast. But what he saw made him stop in his tracks. Whitney sat cross-legged on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. Alaina was flipping through a magazine at the dining table. But it was Genji who caught his attention.

She stood at the stove, her back to him, one hand gripping the pan while the other worked a wooden spatula. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. But that wasn't what threw him. It was the apron — pink and frilly, with ruffles on the edges and a wide sash tied into a neat bow at the back.

Eminem narrowed his eyes, scanning the kitchen like he expected hidden cameras. Was this some kind of joke? Had one of his girls set him up? But there was no crew hiding behind the fridge. Just Hailie beside her, casually placing salmon onto the sizzling pan.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. This was so not Genji. If she was wearing that ridiculous thing, then most likely because his kid had shoved it on her; somehow, she'd gone along with it.

"You look..." he trailed off, lips twitching. "Real comfortable."

Genji turned slightly, giving him a deadpan side-eye, but the pink dusting her cheeks gave her away. "It's Hailie’s," she muttered, adjusting the ribbon at the back. "She insisted."

The said girl, completely unfazed, just grinned. "She looks cute, right?"

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

He wasn't sure if he meant it teasingly or if the thought actually caught him off guard. Either way, he couldn't look at her too long without feeling like he was seeing something so comfortable that it felt almost domestic.

The table was already set when he sat down. Plates of rice, soup, grilled salmon, and omelette were laid out neatly, alongside a more familiar plate of stacked pancakes with butter in a small bowl. As someone who rarely (or never) eats Japanese food, the mix of Eastern and Western dishes shouldn't have worked, but it did.

Genji moved effortlessly around the kitchen, refilling bowls and making sure each of the girls had enough to eat. She wasn't just cooking; she was also taking care of them without even realising it. Hailie, Alaina, and Whitney bantered between bites, passing plates back and forth like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Eminem was used to eating in silence, his mornings were either rushed or spent alone. But here he was, at a table full of chatter, the sound of cutlery clinking against bowls and plates, laughter filling the spaces between bites. And Genji fit into the scene like she'd always been there.

He watched as she reached over to fix Whitney's grip on the chopsticks, her voice patient. Then she nudged Hailie's orange juice closer. She barely touched her own food as she was too caught up in making sure everyone else was taken care of. He wasn't sure what to do with the way that made him feel, so he focused on his plate, chewing slowly, pretending this wasn't the kind of thing that got to him.

Breakfast was over, and the girls got up, announcing plans to go outside, something about showing Genji the backyard. She waved them off with a small smile, gathering plates and stacking them near the sink.

But Eminem rolled up his sleeves. "I got it," he said, taking the dishes from her hands before she could argue. He focused on the task, scrubbing the plates clean, letting the warm water drown out the noise in his head. But he wasn't alone for long.

Hailie leaned against the counter with arms crossed, one brow slightly raised. "So," she started, dragging out the word.

He glanced at her from the sink, instantly wary. "So...?”

She tilted her head, watching him too closely. "What's going on with you and Genji?"

His stomach clenched. He frowned, rinsing off a plate with a little too much force. "What?"

Hailie gestured vaguely. "You guys."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Ain't nothin' goin' on."

"Uh-huh." She didn’t look convinced. "You sure? Because you've been acting weird. And by 'weird', I mean less grumpy, which is suspicious."

He huffed, setting a plate onto the drying rack. "That's stupid."

"No, what's stupid is you pretending you don't know what I'm talking about." She narrowed her eyes. "Dad, come on. I've seen the way you look at her."

He stiffened, gripping the counter. "I don't—"

"You do."

Eminem let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated this kind of conversation. But if there was one thing about Hailie, it was that she didn't let things go easily.

"You like her," she stated bluntly.

He gave her a flat look. "What are you, twelve?"

"Actually, I'm fifteen."

"Same difference."

She smirked. "You didn't deny it."

He scowled, grabbing another dish to scrub. "It ain't that simple."

"Why not?" She wasn't letting up. "You like having her around. She makes you laugh. And..." she tilted her head, pressing, You actually seem... I dunno, more relaxed?"

His jaw tensed. He knew that.

Hailie's voice softened. "Dad…" She hesitated, then finally pushed. "You deserve to be happy."

He swallowed, setting down the last dish, gripping the edge of the counter for a second longer than necessary.

For once, she didn't continue, just let the words sit. Then, after a moment, she exhaled, giving him a small, knowing smile before pushing off the counter. "Just think about it," she murmured before heading outside, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

By the time he turned around, Hailie was already heading outside, leaving him alone with his thoughts, and Genji. She was at the table, sipping tea, her gaze drifting toward the window where the girls were laughing outside.

He hesitated. Then, finally, he took a breath and sat across from her.

She glanced at him. “Something on your mind?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. About last night." He ran a hand over his face, dragging it down his jaw. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he met her gaze. "What are we?" he echoed.

Silence stretched between them. For a moment, Genji just looked at him, fingers curled loosely around her teacup. Her expression was unreadable, but he could tell she was processing, turning over every possible meaning behind his words before deciding how to respond.

Eminem exhaled, leaning back slightly, fingers tapping against the table. He wasn't good at conversations like these. But Hailie's words were still rattling in his head, refusing to be ignored.

She took a quiet sip of her tea. "I don't know," she admitted finally, setting the cup down. "You tell me."

That made him scoff lightly. "That ain't fair. You're the one who asked me first."

"Yeah, and you avoided answering." Her voice was calm, but there was a knowing sharpness to it. "You're the one bringing it up now."

He dragged a hand over his face. She wasn't making this easy. Then again, why would she? She wasn't the type to take half-baked answers.

Eminem let out a short breath, resting his arms on the table. "Look, I ain't tryna overthink shit, but..." He hesitated, his fingers curling slightly. "I like havin' you around. I mean, obviously. And I—" He exhaled sharply, frustrated at himself. "I dunno, man. I feel like I don't gotta be... on guard all the time when I'm with you. You know what I'm sayin'?"

Her gaze softened slightly, but she said nothing, letting him get his words out.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "And it ain't just me. The girls like you, too." His jaw tensed a little. "Hailie likes you."

That seemed to catch her off guard, her lips parting slightly before she looked down at her hands, thoughtful.

"I like them too," she said quietly. "And you."

Something in his chest tightened at how she said it, simple and honest, like it wasn't even a question.

He cleared his throat. "So... What does that make us?"

Her brows lifted slightly. "That depends. What do you want us to be?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. She wasn't gonna let him off easy, huh?

He leaned forward, folding his hands together. "I want…" He licked his lips, exhaling sharply through his nose. "I want this. I dunno what to call it, but I know I don't want you thinkin' I don't care. 'Cause I do." He paused, glancing down. "I just suck at showin' it sometimes."

Her lips pressed together for a moment, like she was considering something. Then, finally, she let out a small breath. "You don't have to have the perfect words, you know."

He smirked dryly. "Good. 'Cause I ain't got 'em."

That earned a quiet laugh from her, and it eased something in his chest.

She tilted her head slightly. "So... are you saying you want to be together? Officially?"

A small huff left his nose as he glanced off to the side. "'Officially' sounds so…" He made a vague motion with his hand. "Teenage."

She arched a brow. "So what word do you prefer?"

His tongue clicked against his teeth. "'Exclusive?'" He grimaced slightly. "That sounds old as hell."

She gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "We're not teenagers, Marshall. No one's expecting us to put a label on it like we're in high school." Her expression softened. "But I'd like to know what I mean to you."

His throat bobbed. Slowly, he reached across the table, wrapping his fingers lightly around hers.

"You mean a lot," he said, voice low. "Enough that I don't want this to be temporary."

Her fingers curled against his palm, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Then that's enough for me."

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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soleillunne · 8 months ago

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Tag Game!!

I thought it'd be fun to make a tag game for everyone, so here's my version!!

alongside this picrew, and 2 pictures you think describes you, answer some questions about yourself.

What’s something you’re really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or free time?

What’s a piece of advice or a quote that has stuck with you over the years?

What’s your go-to comfort food or drink when you’re feeling down? (Bonus points if you can give a recipe)

What’s the most meaningful gift you’ve ever given or received

Bonus: What’s a random fun fact about yourself that most people don’t know?

i'll go first

I'm Alyssa!

What’s something you’re really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

Mythology! I've been super into mythology in general since I was in middle school, and i can just talk about it for hours. I first discovered it when my friend forced me to read Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series, and it spiraled from there.

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or free time?

Most of the time I have to take extra classes during weekends, but other than that I read whenever I can! Be it a physical copy, a pdf or even fanfiction I spend most of my time reading. But when I can find some time for myself I either write or make bracelets. Sometimes I work on my ocs' lore with my friend, so it really depends on how busy I am at that moment.

What’s a piece of advice or a quote that has stuck with you over the years?

My mom once told me "If someone isn't willing to value you or your efforts, don't waste your time on them. Don't give your all to people who won't do the same." And while it sounds mean at first, it's actually helped me over the years.

What’s your go-to comfort food or drink when you’re feeling down? (Bonus points if you can give a recipe)

Sütlaç has been one of my top comfort foods for years now. It's a Turkish dessert made with rice, milk and sugar (and cinnamon, honey or nuts if i'm feeling fancy) Though sometimes i make cookies instead!

What’s the most meaningful gift you’ve ever given or received?

I made over 300 paper stars in a sitting for my friend, each star representing a day i'd have known her on her birthday. I chose paper stars because they meant a lot to her. I also got her a (plastic) rose because she told me she thought she'd never get flowers from anyone.

Bonus: What’s a random fun fact about yourself that most people don’t know?

I used to be afraid of dogs when I was younger. The reason was because my granddad had a little dog that loved running around. Whenever we went to visit my grandparents the little thing would chase me around the garden until one of us dropped because of exhaustion. I think this was my first childhood trauma.

Tagging (no pressure!) : @romaritimeharbor , @kopivie , @ruruumin , @strxnged , @femivi +

@mlkbwunnies , @aureusveill , @milk-violet , @camvrin , @strryskys + anyone who would like to join!

#tag game!#this was so fun hehe #im gonna be reading everyone's answers so carefully #dividers by strangergraphics

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miainthestarsss · 4 months ago

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YANG JUNGWON — UNCONDITIONALLY || PART ONE

Warning — Angst, longing, Slow-burn, Drifting apart, Unspoken love and separation

Synopsis — Jungwon and Dahlia grew up together in a peaceful village, their bond unbreakable as they shared carefree moments in nature. He was the lively, cheerful boy, while she was the thoughtful, quiet girl who kept him grounded. However, Dahlia’s aspirations led her to Australia, causing their once-close relationship to fade as time and distance took a toll. Despite initial promises to stay in touch, their connection slowly diminished, leaving them as distant memories.

Trope — Childhood best-friend to strangers.

Pairing — non idol¡Jungwon x OC

They lived next door to each other in two modest homes, separated by a wooden fence that Jungwon had learned to climb as soon as he could walk. Dahlia’s backyard had the better tree—a wide oak with sturdy branches, perfect for climbing and a swing her dad had built. Naturally, Jungwon spent more time in her yard than his own.

“Higher!” she’d shout as he pushed her on the swing, her laughter filling the warm summer air.

“If you fall, it’s not my fault,” he’d reply, gripping the ropes tighter but giving her another shove anyway.

She’d kick her legs out, fearless, her hair flying behind her. And he’d just grin, watching her, thinking there was nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing.

They grew up together like this, side by side. In the summers, they ran barefoot through the fields, chasing after dragonflies and collapsing in the grass when they got tired. Dahlia would point out the shapes in the clouds—“That one looks like a ship!”—while Jungwon would just lie there, squinting at the sky, pretending to see whatever she did.

In the winters, they built forts out of snow and stayed up late huddled under blankets, sharing a flashlight and reading comics they’d pooled their pocket money to buy. Dahlia always got to hold the flashlight—Jungwon said it was because she was the better reader, but really, he just liked watching her get so into the stories.

When they started school, things stayed the same—at least for a while. Jungwon was the boy who could make anyone laugh, always getting into harmless trouble but somehow charming his way out of it. Dahlia was quieter, the kind of student who always had her hand raised, her notes neat and color-coded.

“Why do you take school so seriously?” Jungwon had asked one day, leaning back in his chair while Dahlia furiously scribbled down notes during recess.

“Why don’t you?” she shot back without looking up.

“I don’t need to,” he said, grinning. “I’ll just copy yours later.”

She shoved his arm, but when the time came, she let him borrow her notes anyway.

They were inseparable, the kind of friendship that made people smile knowingly when they saw them together. Dahlia’s parents adored Jungwon, always inviting him over for dinner, and Jungwon’s mom would sneak her extra cookies whenever she visited.

“Why doesn’t he just move in with us?” Dahlia’s dad had joked one evening.

Jungwon, who was halfway through his second helping of rice, grinned. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Things began to shift as they got older, though neither of them said it out loud. There was a warmth in the way Jungwon would wait for her after school, walking her home even if it meant taking the long way. And Dahlia found herself lingering on the moments when his hand brushed hers, wondering if he noticed too.

But they never talked about it.

By the time they reached high school, the differences between them became more pronounced. Dahlia was the top student in their class, always studying, always pushing herself. Jungwon was just as smart, but he preferred to wing it, relying on his natural charm and quick thinking to get by.

“You’re going to get caught one day,” she warned him after catching him copying homework from a classmate.

“Nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m too smooth.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything else.

He never told her that the only reason he tried at all was because he didn’t want to fall behind her.

Their little village felt smaller as they got older. Dahlia started talking about her plans for the future, about universities and scholarships and everything she wanted to achieve. Jungwon listened, nodding along, but deep down, he felt a weight settling in his chest.

“Where do you want to go?” she asked him one evening as they sat on the swing in her backyard.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You should,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You’re smarter than you think, you know.”

He glanced at her, the fading sunlight casting a golden glow on her face. “Yeah, I know.”

The summer after their final year of high school, Dahlia got the news she had been waiting for. She had been accepted into a university in Australia—her dream school.

She told Jungwon first, dragging him to their usual spot under the big oak tree in the field.

“I got in,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement.

Jungwon’s face lit up. “Dahl, that’s amazing!”

But as the words left his mouth, the weight in his chest grew heavier. She was leaving.

“When do you go?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“In a few months,” she said, looking down at the grass.

The weeks leading up to her departure were a blur. Dahlia was busy preparing for her move, packing boxes and filling out forms. Jungwon helped where he could, but there was a tension between them that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

One evening, just days before she was set to leave, they found themselves sitting by the ocean. The waves lapped gently at the shore, the sky a wash of pink and orange.

“Dahl,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t forget me.”

She turned to him, her eyes filled with an intensity he wasn’t expecting. “I could never forget you, Won.”

They sat in silence after that, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

The day she left, Jungwon stood by the gate at the airport, watching as she hugged her parents goodbye.

“Take care of yourself,” she said, her voice shaking.

“You too,” he replied, forcing a smile. “You’ll visit, right?”

“Of course,” she said, though she wasn’t sure when she’d have the chance.

“And you’ll call?”

“Every day,” she promised, though neither of them knew how difficult that would be.

He pulled her into a tight hug, holding on as if letting go would make her disappear. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered.

“I’ll miss you too,” she replied, her voice breaking.

As she walked away, he felt a part of himself go with her.

At first few months, they kept in touch. She sent him photos of her campus, the library, the friends she was making. He told her about the village, how things were the same but different without her— about how Mrs. Lee’s cat had kittens, how the bakery they always go to after school to ‘study’ but ended up gossiping, had introduced a new flavor of bread, how the fields were still as green as ever.

But as the months turned into years, their conversations became less frequent.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been so busy,” she’d say, her texts coming days, sometimes weeks, after his.

“No worries,” he’d reply, though he couldn’t hide the disappointment.

Dahlia was overwhelmed with her studies, her schedule packed with lectures, assignments, and internships. She barely had time to eat or sleep, let alone reply to the dozens of messages sitting unread on her phone.

Jungwon tried to be patient. He knew how hard she was working, how much this opportunity meant to her. But every unanswered message, every missed call, felt like a crack in the foundation of their friendship.

“Dahl, how are you?”

That was one of the last messages he sent her.

It sat unread in her inbox for weeks, then months.

Years passed.

The village stayed the same, but Jungwon didn’t. He grew quieter, more reserved. He spent less time at the ocean and more time working with his family, helping on the shop and taking care of the house while

Every time he saw her parents, they’d tell him how well she was doing, how proud they were of her. He’d smile and nod, pretending like it didn’t hurt to hear her name.

Jungwon stayed in the village, helping his family with the farm and the shop while Dahlia built a new life for herself in Australia, her days consumed by lectures and assignments.

He tried not to think about her, but it was impossible. Every corner of the village reminded him of her—the swing in her backyard, the tree in the field, the ocean they used to sit by.

She, too, thought of him in quiet moments, wondering if he still sat under the oak tree, if he still watched the sunset by the ocean.

But life had a way of pulling them further and further apart.

#jungwon x reader #jungwon #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen #books #unrequited love #childhood best friends #yang jungwon #jungwon oneshots #jungwon fanfic #enhypen x yn #enhypen x oc #authors

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