#I wanted to explain what happened to her after she's sold | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nemisuki · 1 month ago

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𐔌✧.* ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ೀ⋆ || Falling for your dense classmate is a challenge, especially when trying to confess ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

. ♬ ݁˖ || inspo song : spotify version & yt version ᯓ★

ᝰ.ᐟ || izuku midoriya x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, words of affirmation, 1.7k word count •°. *࿐

It didn't take long for y/n to realize what she felt for Izuku far surpassed the typical feelings you would have for a dear classmate.

This sentiment only seems to marinate after many months of admiring from a safe distance — behind the term 'friend' — attempting to disregard the attraction that increases day by day.

Regardless of how much she tried to hide it, at times, her infatuation appeared to control her like a puppet, making words exit her mouth before her mind could catch up.

"Deku, I don't understand this one..."

It's a blatant lie, only wanting to catch his attention, and it seems to work.

His head perks up in an instant, gaze softening slightly as he leans closer, taking a peek at her notebook — filled with erase markings and scribbles — not one ounce of judgement in his gentle look.

"Hm? If you don't mind, I can help! Let me have a look..."

Her heart quickens, fingers clenching on her pencil as she tries to stay still, focused on quieting her racing pulse, growing afraid he might hear it.

The boy becomes so immersed in explaining the equation step-by-step that he doesn't even realize just how close he's gotten; considering she can now count every pretty freckle and scar.

He gently smiles, turning to look at her.

"Do you get it now?"

Her whole body feels like it's on fire, every nerve and muscle yearning to close the distance, urging herself to melt in the arms of the precious ambiance that is Izuku Midoriya.

Yet he never seemed to grasp this concept himself, always preoccupied with strict training regimens and study sessions, mentally distanced from the notion of romance.

So some days she grows bolder than others; giving him little hints to test the waters, subtle indications about the burning affection within her.

"Deku! I um— got you this... I hope you don't have it already. I saw it in the store and well—"

His face visibly lights up, scrambling up from his seat to approach her, receiving the small gift like a lively child on christmas day.

"Uwahhhh! This is the magazine with all mights latest interviews! I can't believe you managed to get a copy before it sold out! Even Kacchan couldn't get one!"

Izuku is already flipping through the pages, his awe filled gaze zeroing in on each sentence, gushing over every little thing that his mentor responded with.

Despite knowing All Might personally, it seems he'll always be a fan boy at heart; the thought makes her smile back with hidden admiration.

The way his eyes glistened with joy always had her in a trance, hence she couldn't pass up pre-ordering the item — when she saw it on a instagram post he liked — y/n just couldn't resist.

She smiles.

"I guess I got lucky, huh?"

He eagerly nods.

"Mhm! You're like a good luck charm y/n!"

She's visibly taken back, the words getting stuck in her throat, slight goosebumps peppering her skin — despite no breeze being present — unable to comprehend his random declaration.

"E-Eh?!"

He takes a few steps forward, his head still in the clouds, holding the magazine closer to his chest with pure joy.

"I mean it! It seems like whenever you're around me, good things happen!"

She shyly averts her gaze in an attempt to ignore how close he is, how close she is to just erasing the gap between them all together, wanting nothing more than to hear his endless rambles and praise.

Praise that seemed to easily leave his lips, maybe too easy, after all, she seems to be stuck in that category of 'just friends'.

A label she'd like to change for something more intimate.

"You... really think so?"

"Of course I do!"

Being friends with Izuku Midoriya makes a person question if the world is truly as cruel as they say, because the boy in front of her counters all of that.

The true embodiment of a kind soul; disguised as a mere high school student.

So she shouldn't be shocked when his popularity sky-rockets during their last year in UA, fangirls approaching him whenever given an open opportunity, leaving the boy a stuttering mess as he nervously fidgets around.

It irked her more than it should've but nonetheless, she was grateful, considering it ignited an ambitious drive inside her heart, urging her to seek him out.

Leading them to this very moment, the duo standing in front of the cherry blossom tree on campus, a cliché yet beautiful scenery of falling pink petals under the warm sun.

The curious green-haired boy looking right at her.

"So what did you want to talk about y/n?"

She gulps.

All her confidence suddenly vanishes into thin air as he tilts his head, mindlessly smiling at her, despite not knowing she's on the verge of overheating right then and there.

"Well... I have something important to tell you, if you don't mind."

He immediately nods along.

"Ah—! Okay then, I'm all ears!"

She bites the inside of her cheek, attempting to ignore her sweaty palms; embarrassingly becoming a complete bundle of nerves, right in front of the boy she's been crushing on.

A boy who she knows will treat her the same, with everlasting kindness, regardless of the outcome.

"We've known each other for quite some time and... I think you're really amazing deku... you probably don't know this but you've inspired me more to become a great hero. And if you'd let me, I-I'd want to stay by your side til then because I—"

Regardless of the forming butterflies in her stomach, y/n clenches her fist, the last remaining amount of courage fueling her drive to meet his gaze, her whole body heated with emotions.

He looks at her, a bit caught off guard, clearly not expecting the conversation to go like this, his expression completely unreadable — for once — only prolonging her anxious thoughts and hesitance.

The breeze feels cool against her skin, reminding her that it's either now or never, unable to continue hiding her feelings for the cheerful classmate any longer.

So with a deep breath, she speaks with conviction, holding firm eye contact.

"I-I really do love you Izuku!"

He's visibly taken back, eyes widening at her confession, frozen stiff for a few seconds as if contemplating their whole relationship — all the memories and laughs they've shared — to eventually relax with an oddly calm gaze and warm smile.

His cheeks barely dusted with a light pink.

"Oh— I love you too y/n! You're an amazing friend as well!"

Silence.

The girl could only stare at him with disbelief, she had almost forgotten how dense he is, despite being one of the smartest students in their class; if there's a subject Izuku Midoriya isn't too bright on — it's romance.

She saw the way he short circuits whenever a fangirl even so much as compliments him.

Which means she has to be even more clear with both him and herself.

Well, they say the second time's a charm...

"N-no that's not... I meant— agh! Izuku! What I meant to say was that— I'm in love with you!"

He blinks a few times, like his mind is unable to comprehend her statement.

Then realization seems to hit him like a brick, she could tell by his blush intensifying from a soft pink to a bright red, multiple shades deeper compared to the cherry petals falling around them.

His arms flail around as he stammers uncontrollably.

"W-what?! You're in l-l-love with me?! But why— s-since when?!"

Now it's her turn to be flustered, shyly holding her cheeks to feel the burning sensation beneath her finger tips.

"For a while now..."

"Eh?! Are you sure?! M-Maybe you're just—"

He doesn't finish his sentence, quickly shutting himself up at the sight of her condition — equally as bashful and fidgety — mirroring his own physical state.

His eyes light up at the picture perfect image, her hair flowing in the wind, petals raining down like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com, sun beaming a little too brightly to highlight the glossy look in her gaze.

It was as if the breath got sucked right out of him, unable to avert his eyes elsewhere, she was just that breathtaking.

And it was right there, where Izuku Midoriya realized that maybe... just maybe... his best friend truly has fallen in love with him.

Yet he couldn't make sense of why; how in the world he got the attention of such a beautiful girl.

Previous insecurities resurfacing to question if her feelings for him weren't just a miscalculation on her part, perhaps mistaken for something more than mere friendship but...

Izuku Midoriya may be dense, altho, not a complete fool.

The intense look in her eyes, holding more than a thousand words, gave him reassurance that she, in fact, meant what she said.

Only making him more shy as she awaits his response.

He softly mumbles.

"U-Um... then how about we go out to an arcade this weekend... just us two... uh-! I mean we don't h-have to if you don't want to I—"

Her eyes lit up at his invitation, and she suddenly couldn't resist — as if her body just moved on its own — stepping closer to peck an innocent kiss on his cheek, motivated by nothing other than pure joy.

Many months of pent up infatuation finally taking its course.

"Ah really?! I'd love to!"

He freezes.

And after a few moments, she immediately jerks back, realizing just how bold she was with that one action alone, feeling flushed at her own cheekiness.

"Oh— I'm so sorry Izuku! I didn't mean to—"

She gasps as he sees him stumble over, falling onto the vibrant plush grass, thankfully cushioning his fall — as his brain no doubt short circuits — practically melting like a puddle on the ground with a dazed expression.

The boy dramatically wounding up unconscious.

"Wahhh?! Izuku?!"

He woke up in the infirmary a few minutes later, still beyond starstruck as he attempted to answer recovery girls questions.

The older woman only gives him a comical deadpanned expression as he begins rambling on about his situation with y/n, frankly panicking about never being in a relationship before.

Already searching up 'tips to have the best first date' for future references, all while his hand remains on his cheek, right where she kissed him.

Smiling fondly at the memory, as if reminding himself that this is not a dream.

That sometimes your soulmate is your best friend, whom you hopelessly fell in love with.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

ᴀ/ɴ ||| hi my beautiful flowers! wow this fic is long what the heck, i was locked in?! this is a fic request from the number one deku fan hehe, i hope u like it lele!! lowkey this made me want to write for izuku more so yippieee, now time for me to go, plus ultra! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

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writingonleaves · 6 months ago

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wrap your arms around me, baby boy - will smith

pairing: will smith x original female character

warnings: swearing, probably the most dialogue in a piece i've ever had, mention of marijuana , boston college (as a boston university alum this is a valid warning❤️), niche massachusetts references, fluff fluff fluff

inspired by + title: paper rings by taylor swift

word count: 5.5k

author's note: hi!! tried not to overthink this one too much because i've been in a writing rut lately and this turned out longer than i expected. i also usually try not to write about the kids or anyone younger than me but i feel like this song fit our fave lexington shark boy and i had fun exploring a college relationship like this. this is for @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy's eras tour fic challenge!! i hope you all enjoy it and lmk what you think!

october 2023

“I think I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Danielle Layden doesn’t even look up from her notes, unimpressed. “Sure, dude.”

“I’m serious,” She sighs, before putting her pen down and looking up at Will Smith, who’s continuing like he’s just asking her about the homework, which he did about three minutes prior. “You don’t think so?

She blinks, making sure that the professor isn’t in the lecture hall yet. “Will, I met you, like, three weeks ago, while you and your friends were high off your asses, mind you, and you don’t know how to write a proposal.”

“You have something against marijuana and bad writers?”

She rolls her eyes as he laughs. “We have a quiz in 5 minutes. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Well, seat partner, I don’t think I do,” he says smugly.

“We are not seat partners,” she drawls out, taking a sip from the coffee that he brought her when he came in, toothy smile making her unable to be 100% annoyed with him. She doesn’t wanna overthink about the fact that it’s her exact order too, because he shouldn’t know that.

“I think we are,” he sings. “Are you coming to the game later?”

“What game?”

Will snorts. “Yeah, nice try. I know you stalked me on the internet after we met. I also talk about hockey all the time.”

“I don’t know what hockey is. Explain it to me again?”

“Smartass,” he mutters as a smile seeps through Danielle’s lips. “So are you coming?”

“Should I?”

“I think so.”

The professor claps his hands and he’s still looking at her, waiting for an answer. She just shrugs. She’ll leave him on his toes.

The next week, as Danielle’s been learning to expect now, Will slips in the seat right next to her, sliding over her coffee.

“How do you know my order?”

At the same time, he asks. “What did you think of the game?”

She blinks. “What if I didn’t go?”

“Dani,” he deadpans. “I know you went. I saw you in the crowd.”

“You saw me in the sold out crowd?” She eyes him warily. “I highly doubt it.”

“Evie told me where you guys were sitting beforehand.”

“Evie doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“What did you think of the game?” He repeats with insistence.

She bites her lip. “You got a goal.”

“I did.”

“It was fun.”

He lights up like a puppy and she can’t help but melt. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nudges his shoulder. “You’re pretty good at this hockey thing. Better than you are at writing proposals.”

He chuckles, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“I’m glad you didn’t lose.”

“Doesn’t happen very often.”

“Cocky,” Danielle observes.

“Just like you are about writing proposals.”

She switches the subject. “How do you know what my coffee order is?”

“You told me.”

She tilts her head to the side. “When?”

“The night we met.”

“When you were high off your ass?”

“Quiet down,” he scolds playfully. “I am an athlete, you know? Gotta keep up that pristine image.”

She lets out a bark of laughter. “Pristine image? Okay, dude.”

“Hey, actually, before Langley comes in, I wanted to ask you something.”

That gets her attention, as she turns fully towards him. “What’s up?”

“Okay, so, you can say no,” Will starts, which, hilarious way to begin. She tries to hide her amused smile as he continues. “Would you mind looking over my midterm paper? I know you have all your own stuff to do so I totally get it. It’s just, it’s obvious you’re the best writer in this class and I’d really appreciate a second set of eyes like yours.”

A few seconds of silence pass by before Danielle smiles genuinely. “You don’t have to beg, Will. I’ll look over your paper. You only talk to me though. You don’t know that I’m the best writer in this class.”

“I think I do.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she deadpans.

He smirks, sliding his phone over. “Put in your number and we’ll find a time?”

She types her number in and texts herself, “I think you just wanna find an excuse to spend more time with me.”

“Busted. I did say I’m gonna marry you one day.”

“Let’s see what you get on your midterm first.”

november 2023

“Hey”

Danielle looks up from her books at the familiar voice, a bit disjointed because she’s not sitting in Fulton Hall but instead at the library. She takes her headphones out and tilts her head to the side at Will and two other guys right next to him. “Hi.”

“Do you mind?”

She starts clearing her stuff from the table, “As long as you’re not annoying.” She puts on a warm smile. “Hi. I’m Danielle. Or Dani. Whatever works.”

“I’m Ryan, and this is Gabe.” Ryan grins.

She narrows her eyes a bit, gaze lingering on Gabe. “You look familiar. Have we been in a class together?”

“Maybe? What are you taking?”

“You’re in my Psych class,” she concludes.

“With Petrovich?”

“The very one.”

Gabe lights up. It’s kinda adorable. “Where do you sit?”

“Don’t,” she says as Will chuckles, which causes one side of her lips to quirk up. “I’m not having a repeat with what’s happening with Will here.”

“Hey now,” Will says as his two friends laugh at him. “Leno’s the one from Amherst, by the way.”

Danielle lights up. “Oh! Will’s talked about you. I’m from Ludlow.”

“Really?” She nods as Ryan leans back in his seat. “I went to Pope Francis.”

“Of course you did,” she deadpans. “That’s almost as bad as St. Sebastian’s.”

Before she can think about if it’s too mean, Ryan has burst out into laughter. “You know what? Smitty should marry you. You’re funny.”

She whips her head towards Will, who looks smug. “Are you telling everyone that?”

“No,” he drawls out.

“Yes,” Gabe says with a giggle. “I mean, you are the reason Will did well on his paper.”

“I know,” she says wryly.

“So why wouldn’t he marry you?”

She ignores them and tilts her head to the side at Will. “You know, I didn’t think you’d lure your side pieces into this nonsense.”

“They’ve been here from the start!”

“Side pieces?”

She blinks, before, “Oh! You guys were also high the night we met. You were the friends. It was kinda dark so I didn’t really see your faces.”

“If Coach ever hears you, we’re banned from the team,” Will says.

“I don’t really have plans to get to know your coach, so you’re in luck.”

“Do you like hockey?” Gabe asks.

Danielle clicks her pen. “What’s hockey?”

“Don’t,” Will warns as she giggles. “She always does this.”

“What?” Ryan smirks. “Bust your ass?”

“I mean, good,” Gabe adds. “You need it, Smitty.”

She nudges Ryan in the shoulder and blows Gabe an air kiss. “I like you two. Dunno why you hang out with Will though, so that’s a character flaw.”

“Can you help me with Psych homework?” Gabe asks with a hopeful tilt.

“Of course.”

Will narrows his eyes playfully. “Get your own seat partner, Gabo.”

“As fun as this has been, unless you all are doing homework and can quiet down-”

“Can we join?” Will asks, playful facade fading into a genuine one. “We can leave, but we also did come to do homework.”

She puts an earbud back in. “Be my guest.”

By the end of her time in the library, she’s gotten a cookie from Ryan (“413 have to stick together, baby”), Gabe’s phone number so they can study for Psychology together and smiles from Will that has her stomach feeling unsettled. As she’s walking back to her dorm, she gets a text from her roommate Tracy. There’s a hockey game this weekend. Does Danielle wanna come?

She gives Tracy’s text a thumbs up.

december 2023

“Happy last class,” Will says, sitting down next to her.

She reaches out automatically for the coffee he slides over with a smile. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” He teases, but he’s visibly taken aback.

“Yeah,” she reaches into her bag to feel around for the crochet eagle. Once she finds it, she pulls it out carefully and places it in his hands.

His eyes soften. “You made this?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I love crocheting and, I don’t know, it seemed fitting.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, clipping it onto one of the zippers on his backpack. She swallows, a frog suddenly appearing in her throat. “I’ll carry it with me everywhere.”

“When do you leave for Sweden?”

“Leaving BC the 13th, so gotta take all my finals early.”

She hums. “That’s soon.”

“It is,” he drums his fingers on the table. “It feels like this semester has flown by.”

“Yeah,” she says somewhat wistfully. A curl falls onto Will’s forehead and she has to dig her nails into her hands to prevent her from reaching up and fixing it.

He shakes his head a bit at himself, as if trying to motivate himself to do something. “Listen, I, uh, you can totally say no, because I know I kinda forced you to be my friend in the first place. And I’ve been wanting to ask you this for weeks now, maybe months, but I was thinking maybe when I come back next semester we could hang out?”

She teases him. “Hang out? Should we invite Gabe and Ryan along? Maybe Jacob? I met him the other day, you know. He threw you under the bus.”

“No,” he presses and Danielle hides her giggle at his minor petulance. “Just us two. On a date. Dinner and all. The whole nine yards.”

Danielle is full out grinning now. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You’re impossible,” Will deadpans.

“Yes,” she says, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“I pay. I owe you for all the coffees this semester.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“You said anything.”

“Dani.”

“Fine,” she pushes a finger into his chest. “You’re also deciding where we go though. I’m too indecisive for that.”

“Of course,” he grins, a slight blush painting his cheeks. “I’ll text you when I’m back on campus?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

january 2024

“It seems weird not seeing you Friday mornings anymore.”

Danielle chuckles as she opens the door to let Will inside. He steps to the side as she slips on her boots. “Not Mondays and Wednesdays?”

“Well, yes. But there was something nice about seeing you to end my week.”

She rolls her eyes. “Laying it down thick right at the start, huh?”

“Well, I would’ve brought flowers to really drive it home, but I remember you mentioning you didn’t like them.”

“You have a scarily good memory,” she remarks, grabbing her bag before they walk out of her dorm, Will’s hand hovering over her lower back. “Where are we going?”

“This restaurant called Seasons 52. It’s a 30 minute walk but we could also drive since I have my car. But it’s also nice out and I know you like walking everywhere-”

She halts in the hallway, causing Will to crash into her. “Will, that’s…a nice restaurant.”

“Is that okay? Too much?” His eyes widen in uncertainty. “I’ve been there with family for special events and stuff and it’s pretty good and I figured that-”

“It’s okay,” she assures him. “It is. I just, you didn’t have to do all that.”

Will shrugs as they wait for the elevator. “It’s not a big deal. You deserve all the stops. Wouldn’t wanna put that outfit to waste either.”

She snorts looking down at the nice brown sweater and jeans she put on. “This is nothing. You look very sharp. Different from the sweats you usually wear.”

“Hey!” He protests as she laughs. “Remember when you saw me in a suit before the game?”

“Yeah. I think I have those pictures on my phone still.”

He rolls his eyes at the memory of him seeing Danielle right before a game as she just snapped pictures of him with a smirk. “You know, the boys gave me crap about that for days.”

“Mission accomplished then.” She nudges his hip with hers right as the elevator doors open. “I know I texted you this already, but congrats on the Gold. My mom was confused why hockey was on the TV and it wasn’t the Bruins. My brother was pumped though. He’s been trying to convince me to get into hockey for years.”

He blinks. “You watched?”

“I tried to. Saw the gold medal match in full though. Landon loved Ryan’s celebration. What a bitch.”

“Landon’s your brother?”

“Yes he is.”

“Hockey fan?”

“Yeah. He went to BU.”

“Lame,” Will says without thinking.

She laughs. “I tell him that all the time.”

“Just the one brother?”

“Nah. Two younger sisters too. He’s the oldest. He loves it.”

“Your sisters must love you.”

Danielle takes her hair out of her jacket as they start walking. “Why do you think so?”

“I have an older sister. Grace. She’s awesome. Also at BC actually. So I know what it’s like to have an older sister to look up to.”

“I do love them,” she admits. “I think I’m the lucky one to have them though.”

For January, it is surprisingly warm as they make their way to the restaurant. Will has a grin plastered on his face the whole time as he just lets Danielle playfully rag on him. At some point, she grabs his hand and their hands stay connected and Will feels like he just scored a hattrick. Dinner is yummy and romantic and so fun because everything about Danielle Layden is fun. Will snags the check, ignoring her look in the process.

As they’re walking back to campus, Danielle has tucked herself into Will’s side. She pokes him playfully. “Do you still think we’re getting married?”

Will cackles. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

“No,” she says softly, biting her lip.

He looks at her momentarily, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Good.”

Right in front of her dorm building, she kisses him. He smiles into her lips as he pulls her closer.

february 2024

Danielle has a big paper due next week. She doesn’t have time for this.

She checks her phone again to skip the song and rolls her eyes at the dozens of messages from Will the whole morning. Thank God she’s been on Do Not Disturb.

She may not know the ins and outs of hockey like her new boyfriend, but she knows what it’s like to lose. So she knows that he was really upset when BC lost in the first Beanpot game against BU. Hell, she was there in the stands. She knows the guys on the ice were one hundred times more upset than the fans in the stands representing the eagle.

But ghosting her and then ditching her on a pre-planned date they had the next day is uncalled for. Judging from the sheer amount of texts and missed phone calls the last 24 hours, she knows Will knows he fucked up. But she’s not doing this. She’s not taking this crap from anyone, much less a boy.

Two hours later, once she’s knocked out a good chunk of her paper, she leaves the library in search of some dinner outside of the dining hall to treat herself. It’s just her luck that as she’s walking past Conte with her headphones in, she sees some of the team in the distance walking towards her. Will is one of them.

She sees the moment he recognizes her and then stubbornly puts her head down. She hears him call her name, but she just brushes roughly past him, shoulders knocking together. If he wants to explain herself, he’s gonna have to do more than that.

When she’s just changed into her pajamas later that night, her phone rings. It’s Will again. She decides to answer.”

“What do you want?”

“Come outside.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t-”

“Please?”

She hears the plea in her voice. “Fine.” She hangs up, grabs her keys and jacket, and runs down the stairs.

As soon as she walks outside, she sees Will standing to the side, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hi,” he says.

“You ready to talk now?”

He flinches. “I deserved that.”

She crossed her arms, “Well?”

“I’m really, really sorry for ghosting you the last few days,” he rushes out quickly but tone dripped in sincerity and vulnerability. “I-it was really shitty of me to just avoid you and not respond to you at all, especially when I know you were just worried about me. I owed you more than that. I owe you more than that. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get to me like that. I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “Will, I get that losing a game like that sucks. I’m not really mad that you’re mad about it. I’m pissed that you didn’t talk to me, even if it was to tell me to leave you alone.”

“I’m really-”

She puts her hand up. “I’m not done yet.” He shuts his mouth and nods at her to continue. “I know I’m still trying to understand your world and how I fit into that, but getting ignored like I was the last few days sucked. We just started dating. It felt like a slap in the face. I don’t care if you don’t wanna talk to me, just tell me you don’t wanna talk to me instead of leaving me in the dark. If that happens again-”

“It won’t,” he says firmly. “It won’t. And it’s not my world that you have to fit into or whatever. It’s not about me. It’s never about me. It’ll never be about me. I fucked up, Dani. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She looks at him for a moment, before jabbing a finger into his chest. “Apology accepted. Just talk to me next time, okay?”

“I will, I promise,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief. “God, I’m such an idiot. It’s not like you’d ever judge me.”

“For what? The loss?”

“..Yeah?”

She rolls her eyes, taking her hands in his. “I judge you. I do it all the time, actually. Never, ever for that, though.” She squeezes his hands. “It just wasn’t you guys’ night. You’re a good hockey player, Will, but that’s not why I’m with you”

He chuckles wryly, leaning his forehead against hers. “I need to buy you a ring.”

“Easy, tiger,” she warns with a grin. “If you want me to completely forgive you, you owe me coffee for the next three months.”

“That easy?”

“No,” she admits. “But it’s a start.”

He places a quick kiss on her lips. “Anything. Anything you want.”

april 2024

The second the clock runs out, Danielle puts her head in her hands. There are murmurs of disappointment and cursing heard from attendants of the Frozen Four watch party her friend hosted, but all Danielle can do is bite her lip in sadness for Will and the other guys. She ses Ryan visibly sobbing and that’s her limit, as she walks into the kitchen to grab a glass of water to take a breather. She fingers through her phone to the text chain with Will, sending a red heart and “always proud of you” before putting her phone back in her pocket.

She squeezes her eyes shut. God, they were so close. They worked so hard. Will’s worked so hard. But that’s just how it goes sometimes.

As she’s helping clean up, she can’t help but think of the implications of the loss. She hasn’t been shy with Will after learning more about how big of a deal he is in the hockey world and how there’s a chance he may not come back next year. Initially it terrified her — getting into a relationship with someone who might not even be on the East Coast in a few months — and it still does somewhat, but he’s been so open and honest about it and Danielle has never been the kind of girl to not do something because she’s afraid.

But that night, in her dorm, as she sees Will send a text back with just a heart, she’s afraid. They’ve only been dating for four months. And he’s become one of the best parts of her life. She has always wanted him to do what’s best for himself and his career — she has no part in that decision and doesn’t want to have a part — but if that means leaving BC, what does the future of them look like?

The next morning, Danielle is up early and playing with her phone in bed mindlessly, waiting for the text from Will that he’s back and settled in his dorm. She knows the team had a flight scheduled to land early this morning and even before last night’s result, she was always going to see him.

Once she gets a text from Will, she’s bolting out the door, grabbing a small of groceries she had gotten the night before, knowing that him and Gabe’s fridge is emptier than usual and maybe a simple breakfast of a nice omelette and a smoothie will cheer them up.

The door swings open before she can even text Will to let her in. She barely sees his face before he pulls her into a tight hug. She squeezes him, swaying them side to side, as students going in and out of the building step sideways to avoid them.

“I’m sorry, dude.”

He somehow musters out a watery chuckle at the nickname that’s somehow become a petname between them. He mutters into her shoulder. “I fucking hate losing.”

She continues rubbing his back. “I know.”

“We were so close.”

“I know,” she pulls away and reaches up to run a hand through his hair. He practically collapses into himself, pulling her into another hug, resting his chin on top. “I’m proud of you regardless,” she says into his chest softly. “All of you. You worked so hard.”

“I love you,” he mutters and Danielle’s stomach flips. He first said it the day before he left for St. Paul when they were having a movie night at her place, snuggled up in her bed as he whispered it into her hair, but it still makes her throat close up with adoration.

(She hasn’t said it back yet, but he hasn’t pressured her at all. She’s almost amazed at how much he doesn’t seem to be.)

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go inside.”

He automatically reaches for the bag around her shoulders with a furrowed brow. “What’s in here?”

“Groceries. I figured you and Gabe hadn’t eaten yet so I thought I’d whip up an omelette or something.”

He steps into the empty elevator and kisses her for the first time since he left. “God, you’re an angel.”

“No, I think ahead,” she corrects. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there in person.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “I feel your support everywhere all the time.”

“You do?”

“With every call and text,” he assures. “Thanks for coming. I’m probably not going to be the best company today.”

“Will,” she taps his chin so he’ll look at her when she says her next statement. “There is nowhere else I would’ve been today, no matter the result.” He just pulls her closer to his side in response.

When she gets to Will and Gabe’s suite, she immediately scurries around the kitchen as Will hovers. Usually she would shoo him away and make him wait elsewhere, but she knows he doesn’t wanna be alone right now. As she’s plating the second omelette, Gabe wanders out and she shoots him a small smile, stomach dropping at the bags under his eyes that mirror Will’s. She gestures at him to sit and slides over a plate and a glass of the green smoothie she made before giving him a hug.

“Smitty’s lucky to have you,” Gabe says inbetween forkfuls.

Danielle chuckles as she fixes herself a plate. “I’m just as lucky to have him. Where’s Ryan? I can fix him a plate if he wants.”

“Stop,” Will says with a look.

“What? I can!”

“I know,” he says fondly. “But you don’t need to.”

She gives him a deadpan look. “Well, is he coming?”

Will sighs. “He said he might stop by in a bit.”

“I’ll leave him some of the smoothie then.” She catches Will’s smile as she starts digging into her omelette, talking with Gabe about anything except the loss.

After breakfast, she and Will venture to his room, where they lay in his bed and he puts on Brooklyn 99. As she’s laying on his chest and he’s twirling her hair around his finger, she can tell his head is everywhere but in this room. She lets him be like that for three episodes before she reaches for the remote to pause it.

She turns to him. “What’s going through your mind?”

He shrugs. “Probably everything you think.” They sit in silence for a minute or two, before he pipes up again. “You can ask me.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the answer is yours to decide, and I know you’re gonna ask for my opinion but I don’t want you to be influenced by it,” she smoothes over his furrowed brows with her thumbs. “Everything coming up next has been a thing long before we met. Even if I had an opinion about it, it shouldn’t be taken into account.”

“So you think I should leave BC and sign?”

“I think you should seriously weigh the pros and cons of both, which I already know you’re doing.”

He sighs with a wry smile. “You were born to be a lawyer.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Do you want to talk about it now? Because we can.”

“Later, maybe.”

She hums. “Okay.”

“But I want to let you know that no matter what I decide, that how I feel about you is the same.” She raises an eyebrow but he’s so lost in his thoughts and what he wants to say that he misses it as he barrels on, determined. “Whatever decision I make, I still want this to keep going. Which is maybe unfair to ask you because there’s a chance I’d be all the way across the country. But I really care about you and-”

“Will,” she interrupts him, holding a hand up. “You’re getting so ahead of yourself. Make your decision first, and then we can talk about us, okay?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m just leaving you.”

“Huh? You’re not. I know you’re not. This is your career, dude. I’m never, ever going to hold that against you.” She presses a quick kiss on his lips to try to assure him. “I knew what I was getting into, okay? And I’m still here, aren’t I? We can talk about the logistics of it all later more in depth, if we even need to get to that point, but don’t worry yourself in a tizzy about the ‘us’ part of it so much, okay?”

He blinks. “I got you something.”

Deciding to go along with the sudden change of topic, she humors him. “What did you get me?”

He reaches over her to his bedside and she just lets him, exaggeratingly spitting out his hair that touches her mouth. He just rolls his eyes before retrieving a small white bag.

She softens as he places it in her hands. “What’s this?”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You didn’t think I’d forget about your birthday, did you? I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You were competing for a national championship,” she responds automatically. “I didn’t-you didn’t have to get anything for me.”

He scoffs softly. “Bullshit,” he nods at the bag. “Open it.”

Biting her lip she carefully opens the bag, to see that there’s a ring box there. “Oh my God. Are you asking me to marry you?”

He rolls his eyes as she giggles. “You’re the worst.”

She pops open the box and it is a ring. She picks it up gently inbetween her fingers. A dainty leaf ring with light teal stones. It’s perfect. It matches with the rings she already wears. She slips it on and suddenly wants to cry. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.”

She shoves the bag and box to the side before hugging him properly. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

“Happy birthday. Belated.”

As she looks down at the ring, she takes a deep breath. They’re going to be just fine.

may 2024

As Ryan parks his car in front of Will’s childhood home in Lexington, Danielle suddenly feels like her feet are glued to the floor of his car.

Ryan, noticing his friend’s girlfriend’s hesitation, nudges her shoulder gently. She’s quickly become one of his friends now, especially considering that he’s going to be staying at BC for at least another year. “Hey,” he says softly. “You good?”

“I’m great,” she responds automatically, reaching to the back seat to grab the box holding his present.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he says.

“It’s Will’s day,” she says firmly. “How I feel doesn’t matter.”

He clicks his tongue. “I’d disagree. And he would too. You can be happy for him and also sad that he’s moving to the other side of the country, you know?”

She looks over to him and swallows at the look on his face. The unspoken “I am” lingers in the air and she sighs. A small smile appears on her face as they exchange a look, as she leans forward to place a quick friendly kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for driving.”

“Anytime.”

The first person she recognizes as they filter into the home is Grace, who beams at the sight of them both. She wraps Ryan in a hug first, squeezing him tight before pushing him away to hug Danielle.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you. How were finals?”

“A bit tough, I won’t lie.”

“You get used to it,” Grace says sympathetically, taking the box out of the younger girl’s hands. “He’s somewhere out back, surrounded by a bunch of people probably.”

Danielle nods and Grace must notice her lingering because the blonde offers her a reassuring smile. “He’s been talking about you all day.”

“That’s nice of him,” she comments softly.

Grace gives her a knowing smile before lighting pushing her towards the direction of the back porch. “Go. He’ll be excited to see you.”

The second she walks outside, she smiles at all the teal balloons decorating the home and how wonderful the weather is to celebrate Will officially signing with San Jose. He made the decision a few weeks ago but waited until now to make it official and Danielle couldn't be any prouder.

It seems like when her eyes land on him, he’s already looking back, eyes bright and a big smile on his face as he gestures for her to come to him.

“Hi,” she says, leaning into his side for a hug.

He instinctively kisses the top of her head. “Hi. This is Aidan, Nico and Max from the St. Sebs days. Boys, this is-”

“Dani,” Aidan says with a knowing smile. “Nice to meet you. Smitty hasn’t shut up about you since you guys met.”

“Unsurprising,” Danielle drawls out. “He’s kinda obsessed with me.”

The guys all laugh and Daniele giggles along with them. She looks up at Will, who’s beaming. She fights the urge to kiss him in front of all his friends, but he beats her to it, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. She laughs into his lips when his friends start chirping him goodheartedly. She hears Ryan saying that he’s used to seeing this shit all the time and that it’s frankly the cutest thing ever and Danielle is assured that Ryan’s a real one.

“Congrats,” she murmurs to Will, his friends now distracted. “I love you.”

(Danielle cracked a few weeks ago, when she finished her last final and Will took her out on a surprise date into the city. They were walking along the Charles River in the sunset and she felt like she just had to tell him she loved him at that moment. The smile from him after she said it is an image she’ll always have in her memory)

“Thanks, babe,” he says. He interlaces their hands together. “You ready to meet everyone?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

Will chuckles. “Come on. We’ll start with the cousins. They’re easy.”

She follows him as his thumb brushes against the ring.

#k writes #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey fiction #hockey rpf #will smith hockey #will smith #will smith fic #will smith imagine #will smith x oc #will smith x original character #will smith x original female character #nhl #san jose sharks #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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velvetvisionsaurora · 3 months ago

Text

Pairing: Hongjoong x reader, Seonghwa x reader, Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, Wooyoung x reader.

Summary: Five eight-year-old boys aboard the slave ship Crimson Serpent form an unbreakable bond with five-year-old y/n. before she's sold at auction. Despite their failed rescue attempt, they swear a blood oath on her teddy bear to find her. Fifteen years later, now feared pirates leading the ATEEZ

Warnings: Slavery/Human Trafficking, Separation/Loss, Violence, Eventual Smut. SA(not by any main characters) y/n gets switched to a real name but it has a purpose. More warnings to be updated.

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‼️if you have read chapter 7 already please go back and make sure you have read the reunion part with Ella/Yeosang! It’s after the flash back scene! Something happened with posting and it got removed‼️

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Masterlist

Chapter 7

Intersections

In their shared cabin on the ATEEZ's port side, Yunho sat cross-legged on his bunk, carefully fixing a torn sail section while Mingi cleaned his special tools at the small workbench beneath their single porthole. Neither spoke for several comfortable minutes, the silence between them built on years of shared understanding rather than awkward emptiness.

Finally, Yunho looked up from his stitching. "She knew the stars in Orion's belt before I even pointed them out."

Mingi nodded, continuing his careful work on the firing mechanism laid out in perfect order on his workbench. Unlike the nearly silent way he acted in group settings, here in their private room, his shoulders looked more relaxed, his movements less stiff, more natural.

"And she knew exactly where to find Canis Major," Yunho continued, his normally gentle voice showing a hint of doubt. "The same stars I taught y/n to spot during night watches on The Crimson Serpent."

"Important," Mingi replied, his voice fuller and more flowing than the short phrases others heard. With Yunho, words came more easily, the safe space of their shared cabin allowing him to express himself in ways he rarely showed elsewhere.

"But not proof," Yunho countered, setting aside his sail repair. "Seonghwa pointed out that anyone with basic star knowledge would recognize major constellations."

Mingi turned from his workbench, giving Yunho his full attention—something he did almost only for his roommate and oldest friend. "You doubt now?"

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of real frustration. "I don't know what to believe. Yesterday I was certain. Today..." He trailed off, the conflict clear in his usually calm expression.

"Seonghwa's reasons," Mingi observed, not a question but understanding.

"He makes good points," Yunho admitted. "Everything we see as her recognizing things could be explained other ways. Common behaviors, basic knowledge, chance preferences."

Mingi rose from his workbench and moved to sit beside Yunho on the bunk—a closeness that would have surprised anyone else aboard the ATEEZ. While the quiet gunner typically kept careful distance from others, with Yunho he allowed closeness built through years of shared hardship and looking out for each other.

"Found my maker's mark," Mingi said, his tone showing unusual certainty. "On the gun port housing. Hidden on purpose. She knew exactly where to look."

Yunho's expression brightened slightly. "You didn't mention that in the officers' meeting."

Mingi shrugged one shoulder, a small gesture carrying complex meaning. "Seonghwa would find an explanation. Coincidence. Good observation skills."

"And you don't believe that?" Yunho asked, watching his friend carefully.

"No." The single word carried absolute certainty, rare from the careful gunner who typically added qualifiers to his statements with careful precision.

Mingi reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a simple leather cord from which hung a small wooden compass rose, its five points carefully carved despite its tiny size. The navigation symbol that had become his maker's mark—appearing on every weapon he designed, every mechanism he created, every carving he left behind—was an exact copy of this original pendant.

"The compass I made for Mr. Hugs," he explained, holding the pendant where Yunho could see it. "Fell off during struggle at auction house. I kept the original design. Put it on everything since."

Yunho studied the wooden compass with new understanding. For fifteen years, he had seen this symbol on Mingi's creations without fully understanding its importance—not simply a maker's mark but a deliberate connection to the teddy bear's lost navigation guide, to the little girl who had called Mingi "Puppy" with innocent affection rather than mockery.

"I forgot you kept the original," Yunho said softly.

Mingi tucked the pendant back beneath his shirt, the private gesture showing how he carried both keepsake and mission against his heart. "Reminder of promise," he said simply.

He returned to his workbench, but instead of going back to tool cleaning, he opened a small drawer built into its side. From within, he took out a rolled piece of fabric, carefully unfolding it on the workspace to reveal dozens of tiny wooden animals, each small enough to fit in a child's palm, each bearing the special compass mark on its underside.

"Make one every port," Mingi explained, his voice softening with rare emotion. "Leave them where children might find. Markets. Docks. Public squares."

Yunho stared at the collection with growing realization. For fifteen years, he had sometimes noticed Mingi carving small animals during quiet moments, had sometimes seen him lagging behind when they left port cities, but had never connected these observations to their shared mission.

"You leave them as messages," Yunho realized. "In case y/n might find one and recognize your work."

Mingi nodded, his finger gently touching a small wooden rabbit, perfect despite its tiny size. "Fifteen years. Hundreds of carvings. Every port we've visited."

The revelation—delivered in Mingi's private voice rather than his public way of few words—carried emotional weight beyond its factual meaning. While the others had searched through official channels, tracking auction records and slave lists, Mingi had kept up his own parallel effort: creating tiny wooden messengers that might somehow find their way to a lost girl who had once treasured his carvings.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Yunho asked, moving to stand beside his friend at the workbench.

Mingi's expression shifted slightly, showing rare vulnerability. "Might seem foolish. Not practical."

"It's not foolish," Yunho countered immediately, his hand settling gently on Mingi's shoulder—one of the few touches the gunner accepted without tension. "It's... hopeful. Faith that connection might last through separation."

Mingi's posture relaxed slightly under Yunho's reassurance, the acceptance flowing between them without need for more validation. Unlike others who might have dismissed his silent fifteen-year ritual as superstition, Yunho understood the deeper idea: that connection sometimes followed paths logic couldn't predict, that effort kept up without guaranteed result still had value.

"You really believe Ella is y/n," Yunho observed, the statement carrying no judgment or pressure.

Mingi nodded once, certainty clear despite his usually careful expression. "Too many matches for coincidence. The way she moves. Watches. Protects herself. Knows things without saying she knows them."

"Seonghwa suggests those behaviors might come from fifteen years of captivity rather than specific connection to us," Yunho countered, though his tone suggested he welcomed Mingi's counterargument.

"True," Mingi acknowledged, his response more detailed in Yunho's presence than others ever witnessed. "But combined with specific knowledge—star patterns, maker's marks, food preferences—pattern becomes clear."

He selected a small wooden dolphin from his collection, its details remarkably precise despite its tiny size, and placed it in Yunho's palm. "Made this last night. For her."

Yunho examined the tiny carving, noting the compass rose carefully embedded in its underside. "You want me to give it to her?"

Mingi shook his head slightly. "Leave where she'll find it. Without obvious placement. Test whether she recognizes what it means."

The suggestion—smart yet respectful of Ella's choice—reflected Mingi's careful approach to all challenges. Unlike Wooyoung's desire for immediate confirmation or Seonghwa's careful skepticism, Mingi proposed subtle opportunity for recognition without pressure or manipulation.

"Her bedside table?" Yunho suggested. "When she's with the captain for afternoon briefing?"

Mingi nodded approval. "Natural discovery. Her choice to acknowledge or ignore."

The plan settled between them without need for further explanation, their years together creating shorthand communication that others aboard the ATEEZ marveled at but couldn't copy. Even Hongjoong, with his smart planning and leadership instinct, sometimes found himself excluded from the silent understanding that flowed between the ship's tallest officer and its most reserved.

"If she is y/n," Yunho said after a moment, his voice carrying the uncertainty Mingi's lacked, "why wouldn't she simply tell us? We've given her no reason to fear us."

Mingi considered this carefully, his expression thoughtful in ways he rarely showed outside their private quarters. "Fifteen years captive," he replied finally. "Trust becomes a tactic, not instinct. She weighs benefit against risk before sharing."

"And the risk of revealing herself to us?" Yunho prompted.

"Expectation," Mingi answered immediately, the insight flowing more freely in Yunho's presence. "We might expect y/n unchanged. The child we knew, not the woman survival created."

The observation showed emotional intelligence that would have surprised those who knew only Mingi's public persona—the silent gunner whose rare words addressed practical matters rather than people's feelings. Yet with Yunho, he revealed the depth of understanding that made him not just the ATEEZ's weapons specialist but one of its most insightful observers.

"You think she fears disappointing us," Yunho realized. "That we might reject who she's become in favor of who we remember."

"Possible," Mingi acknowledged. "Survival changes people. Needed adaptations might not match childhood memories."

He carefully rolled up the fabric containing his collection of carved animals, securing it with careful precision before returning it to its drawer. "We remember five-year-old child. She brings twenty-year-old survivor shaped by captivity."

"And if she's not y/n?" Yunho asked quietly, the question reflecting his lingering doubt despite Mingi's conviction.

Mingi paused in his careful organization, considering this possibility with typical thoroughness. "Then she remains valuable ally against Blackwell. Worthy of protection regardless of identity."

The simple statement reflected core principles that had guided their mission through fifteen years of increasingly dangerous operations: that their campaign against the slave trade went beyond personal revenge, that protection extended beyond specific connection to broader purpose.

"You're right," Yunho acknowledged, his expression clearing somewhat. "Whether she's y/n or not, she deserves freedom and safety after fifteen years of captivity."

"Exactly," Mingi confirmed, returning to his workbench with renewed focus. He resumed cleaning his special tools, each movement precise yet flowing with natural grace rather than forced control. In Yunho's presence, he kept to careful standards without the rigid tension that marked his public performance, the safety of their shared space allowing expression that others never witnessed.

Yunho watched his friend work for several quiet moments, appreciating Mingi's confident movements and focused attention—qualities that had saved their lives countless times during fifteen years of increasingly dangerous missions. Though Mingi spoke rarely in public and avoided casual contact, in their private sanctuary he revealed the person beneath carefully built protection—thoughtful, perceptive, and far more talkative than anyone beyond Yunho ever experienced.

"Thank you," Yunho said simply, the gratitude covering their current conversation and fifteen years of unwavering loyalty.

Mingi looked up briefly, a small but genuine smile softening his usually blank features—an expression reserved exclusively for Yunho. No verbal response followed, none being necessary between two who had survived childhood captivity, teenage rebellion, and adult warfare side by side.

Outside their cabin, the ATEEZ continued its steady progress through morning waters, feared throughout the maritime world as the Black Ship, the Compass Crew, the vessel whose appearance meant precise revenge rather than random destruction. Few who encountered its distinctive silhouette understood the vessel's true purpose—that its feared reputation came not from bloodthirst but from blood oath, from promise made by children and fulfilled by the men they became.

And within that black-sailed ship, the quietest officer continued creating tiny wooden messengers marked with five-pointed compass rose, carrying fifteen years' hope that connection might somehow last through separation, that paths cut by violence might eventually come together through persistence and determination.

*Blackwell's Estate - Seven Years Earlier*

Twelve-year-old y/n stood stiffly in Blackwell's formal study, her expression carefully blank despite her inner panic. The summons had come without explanation—guards appearing at her work station in the laundry, taking her directly to the master's private domain where staff entered only when specifically ordered.

Victor Blackwell sat behind his massive desk, fingers joined beneath his chin as he studied her with the same clinical detachment that had marked his ownership for seven years. Unlike most slave owners who barely told apart individual pieces of property, Blackwell kept detailed knowledge of each person he owned—their abilities, their connections, their vulnerabilities. This personal attention made him more dangerous rather than more humane, his understanding used for maximum control rather than compassion.

"Do you know why you're here, girl?" he asked, his cultured voice showing no particular emotion.

"No, sir," y/n replied, the response automatic after years of conditioning. Show no curiosity, no initiative, no independent thought—only prompt obedience and proper respect.

"Valuable property requires proper maintenance," Blackwell continued, as if explaining a basic concept to a slow student. "This includes not merely physical health but appropriate mental conditioning. Assets that form incorrect attachments develop divided loyalties, lowering their functional value."

Cold dread settled in y/n’s stomach as his meaning became clearer. Blackwell rarely spoke directly about specific wrongdoings; his preferred method involved philosophical explanations that forced the listener to recognize their own mistakes, confessing through realization rather than questioning.

"Individuals within my household serve specific functions according to their abilities," he continued, rising from his desk to pace with careful steps. "The doctor's assistant provides medical support to maintain collective health. You girl, are to become the perfect slave. Educated, hard working and pretty enough to fulfill any requirements a buyer might need. Neither role includes unauthorized socialization beyond what's needed."

Y/n kept her carefully blank expression despite the growing certainty that her friendship with Yeosang had been discovered—the shared moments of connection they had believed properly hidden, the small kindnesses exchanged out of sight of watchful eyes, the wooden carvings passed between them as comfort during hard times.

For seven years, they had kept their alliance through increasingly careful precautions, knowing that their growing connection was a vulnerability that Blackwell would exploit if discovered. Yet somehow, despite their precautions, their secret communication had been exposed—perhaps through carelessness, perhaps through deliberate betrayal by another household member seeking good treatment.

"I have invested considerable resources in medical training for the boy," Blackwell remarked, his tone suggesting discussion of weather rather than human lives. "Skills development represents significant value improvement for specialized property. Such investment should not be harmed through inappropriate distractions."

He turned to face her directly, his expression showing neither anger nor cruelty but merely calculated business assessment. "Correction is therefore needed to maintain optimal asset functionality."

Before y/n could interpret this clinical declaration, the study door opened to admit two guards escorting a third figure between them. Yeosang's usual composed expression had broken into barely contained fear, his fifteen-year-old frame appearing suddenly younger and more vulnerable between the towering guards.

"Ah, excellent timing," Blackwell noted with the same detachment he might use when discussing furniture delivery.

He gestured for the guards to position Yeosang before his desk, then resumed his seat with the casual confidence of absolute authority. From a drawer, he took out a leather portfolio containing documents arranged with characteristic precision.

"Medical training increases property value considerably," he observed, reviewing the contents with practiced efficiency. "Several captains have expressed interest in acquiring specialized personnel for extended voyages. Captain Severino has offered particularly favorable terms for a ship's doctor with your specific qualifications."

The meaning became terribly clear: Yeosang was being sold. Their punishment for unauthorized friendship wasn't merely separation within the household but permanent division through transfer of ownership. The realization hit y/n with physical force, her carefully maintained composure threatening to break despite years of practiced control.

"The transaction will be completed today," Blackwell continued, directing his comments to Yeosang now. "Captain Severino's ship leaves with evening tide. Your medical supplies have been packed according to inventory requirements, with appropriate checking of controlled substances."

Throughout this clinical explanation, he maintained the same detached tone he might use when discussing crop rotation or equipment maintenance—human life reduced to asset management and inventory control. Only the slight tension in Yeosang's shoulders showed his internal response, years of conditioning preventing visible reaction despite devastating impact.

"The girl will observe transfer of ownership," Blackwell added, his gaze shifting to y/n with sudden sharpness. "Visual demonstration provides more effective behavioral change than theoretical explanation."

The deliberate cruelty of this decision—forcing her to witness Yeosang's removal—revealed the careful calculation behind Blackwell's seemingly dispassionate management. He understood precisely how to maximize psychological impact while maintaining appearance of reasonable business operations.

"You are prohibited from direct communication before departure," he instructed, rising to indicate the meeting's conclusion. "Guards will escort the boy to preparing quarters and the girl to observation position at front entrance. Asset transfer will proceed at four o'clock precisely."

As the guards moved to separate them, y/n’s efforts to fight and maintain her neutral expression crumbled, she turned and with tears hugged Yeosang tightly. "Please don't!" She said.

Yeosang, although grateful for one last interaction, closed his eyes in sadness. That moment of weakness would transform already devastating punishment into something far worse—Blackwell's method always escalated when emotional vulnerability was displayed.

Blackwell's cold and dismissive behavior morphed into an almost delightful smirk at the girl's behavior.

"See to it she is punished for this outburst." Blackwell commanded the guard. "It seems more training is necessary to her daily lessons." He commented to no one in particular.

Yeosang stiffened, and before he could open his mouth to speak as the guards roughly dragged y/n out of the room, Blackwell interrupted him.

"I cannot punish your words or actions any longer, however," He looked at the boy smirking. "Since you and the girl are so close, I'm sure she wouldn't mind taking the punishment of your disobedience in your place."

Yeosang's eyes widened slightly and quickly closed his mouth obeying Blackwell. Years of treating y/n’s wounds, with or without permission, taught him how cruel and gruesome they were with punishing her.

Three hours later, positioned on the mansion's front steps where her supposed "observation" doubled as humiliation before the entire household staff, y/n watched stone-faced as Yeosang was escorted to the waiting carriage. His few possessions—medical reference texts and carefully maintained instruments—had been packed in a single trunk that represented seven years of dedicated study and practice.

Captain Severino, a weathered man with calculating eyes similar to Blackwell's, inspected his new acquisition with the same clinical assessment used for livestock or equipment. His cursory examination included checking Yeosang's teeth and reflexes, testing basic medical knowledge through rapid-fire questions, and verifying physical condition through demonstration of movement and strength.

Throughout this degrading process, Yeosang kept the careful composure that had protected him through years in Blackwell's household—present yet somehow removed, cooperating physically while preserving essential selfhood behind strong walls. Only y/n, who knew him better than anyone else in the world, could read the subtle signs of his internal devastation: the slight tremor in his left hand, the carefully controlled breathing pattern, the small delay before each response.

As final transaction details were completed between Blackwell and Severino, Yeosang was permitted to gather his trunk under guard supervision. In that brief moment, as he knelt to secure the latches, his hand moved with practiced sleight developed through years of passing secret messages within the household. Something small dropped into the ornamental grass bordering the front path—a movement so subtle that even watchful guards failed to notice.

Y/n noted the deliberate placement, memorizing its exact location without shifting her gaze directly toward it. Whatever Yeosang had left behind, he had risked severe punishment to ensure she would find it after his departure—a final communication despite Blackwell's explicit prohibition.

The actual moment of separation passed with anticlimactic efficiency—Yeosang boarding the carriage, Severino completing final documentation, the vehicle departing down the long drive toward Halazia's harbor where ship awaited. No opportunity for goodbye, no acknowledgment of connection being severed, no recognition of human cost behind business transaction.

Only after night fell and household activities quieted did y/n risk retrieving Yeosang's final message. With careful movements honed through years of navigating Blackwell's household undetected, she slipped from her dormitory to the front gardens, locating the exact position where Yeosang had knelt hours earlier.

Buried in the ornamental grass, her searching fingers found familiar shape—a wooden wolf with its distinctive compass marking, not the same shared treasure passed between them for six years whenever one needed comfort or strength, a different one. Perhaps Yeosang made another one? A replica? Or he found another one hidden. This final gift represented both farewell and promise: that connection lasted beyond physical separation, that memory remained despite deliberate division, that hope survived even systematic attempts to destroy it.

Clutched tightly in her twelve-year-old hand, the small carving represented Yeosang's final resistance against Blackwell's calculated control—solid proof that something belonging uniquely to them had survived despite their owner's deliberate intervention. Neither understood its deeper significance: that the compass marking connected them to five boys searching throughout maritime world for a lost girl, that the wooden animal was created by a quiet child named Mingi who continued carving similar messengers during fifteen years of searching.

For y/n, it simply represented proof that genuine connection had existed despite Blackwell's systematic isolation—tangible evidence of the one friendship that had sustained her through seven years of captivity. For three more years, she would keep it carefully hidden within Blackwell's household, until her transfer to his business associate necessitated new hiding strategies.

For eight years, Yeosang would carry the original wolf, a memory through multiple transfers between captains who valued his medical skills without recognizing his humanity, until fate and a black-sailed pirate vessel named ATEEZ stepped in to offer unexpected freedom.

Neither could have imagined that 7 years after their forced separation, they would reunite aboard that same pirate ship—or that its feared officers were the very boys who had once protected a small girl aboard The Crimson Serpent, their fearsome reputation built upon the foundation of childhood oath to find someone both they and Yeosang had deeply loved in different ways.

The ship's bell had just rung midnight watch when Ella jolted awake. The nightmare of one of the three worst days of her life jolting her awake. Ella slipped silently from her cabin. Years of moving through hostile environments after dark had honed her ability to move without sound—a skill developed initially for survival, now used for deliberate purpose rather than desperate necessity.

The ATEEZ ran with skeleton crew during night hours, most sailors sleeping in shifts while essential positions maintained minimal vigilance. Her exploration earlier that day had yielded thorough knowledge of watch patterns and patrol routes—information gathered out of habit despite her apparent freedom aboard ship.

She moved through the darkened hallways with practiced efficiency, avoiding the occasional crewman on night duty through timing rather than hiding. No one had forbidden her movement throughout the vessel; nevertheless, caution remained ingrained after fifteen years of restrictions.

The medical bay's location on the lower deck provided ideal seclusion—positioned away from sleeping quarters and primary operational areas, its specialized ventilation creating sound barriers that would contain conversation. As she approached the partially open door, soft light spilled into the corridor, suggesting Yeosang remained awake despite the late hour.

For a brief moment, Ella hesitated outside the threshold, an unexpected wave of uncertainty washing over her. The boy she had known—gentle hands treating injuries, whispered encouragement during dark moments, the quiet strength that had kept her going through seven years in Blackwell's household—had become a man she recognized yet didn't truly know. How much had fifteen years changed him? How much suffering had he endured after Blackwell separated them?

Taking a steadying breath, she pushed such questions aside and entered the medical bay without announcing herself, slipping through the doorway with the silent movement that had become second nature during captivity.

Yeosang sat at his small desk, back to the door, apparently absorbed in writing notes in a leather-bound journal. The small wooden trinket box she remembered from childhood sat open beside his inkwell, medical supplies arranged with the same careful precision she remembered from their shared past.

He spoke without turning, his keen awareness of surroundings showing training beyond medical practice. "I wondered when you would come."

The voice—deeper than the boy she remembered yet carrying the same measured pace—confirmed what his posture already suggested: he had been waiting for her, perhaps since the moment she had left his medical bay hours earlier.

"You knew I would," she replied, closing the door silently behind her.

At this, he finally turned to face her, the careful composure of their earlier meeting giving way to more genuine expression. The distinctive birthmark near his left eye crinkled slightly as emotion transformed his features from professional detachment to painful recognition.

"Y/n." He spoke her true name as if testing its reality on his tongue. "It really is you."

The sound of her name—her actual name, not the shortened "Ella" she had offered the ATEEZ officers—created strange feeling after years of deliberate anonymity. She found herself momentarily speechless, the planned greeting dissolving under the weight of genuine connection.

Yeosang rose slowly from his desk, keeping careful distance as if uncertain of appropriate boundaries after fifteen years' separation. His movements held the same deliberate grace she remembered, though his frame had matured from teenage slenderness to adult strength. A thin scar traced his jawline—evidence of violence experienced since their forced separation—while his eyes carried shadows of witnessed suffering that hadn't existed in the fifteen-year-old boy she had known.

"Angel," she whispered, the childhood nickname coming unbidden. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Something in his expression cracked at the sound of her private name for him—the one she had given when they'd first connected in Blackwell's household. His careful composure faltered momentarily before he regained control, professional discipline evidently ingrained through years of necessary survival.

"I looked for you," he said quietly. "After I gained my freedom. But Blackwell's records were deliberately hidden, and his associate who purchased you had disappeared from known trading routes."

The admission created conflicting emotion—gratitude that he had tried to find her, pain that neither of them had succeeded in finding the other until now. Ella found herself moving forward almost unconsciously, closing the physical distance that symbolized their years of separation.

"How did you end up here?" she asked, genuine curiosity momentarily overriding the flood of other questions demanding attention. "On this specific ship?"

"The ATEEZ raided the vessel where I was being transferred between captains," he explained, his voice steady despite the difficult subject. "Unlike other pirates who typically claim medical personnel as valuable assets, Hongjoong recognized I was captive rather than crew. He offered freedom without obligation, though I chose to stay as ship's doctor."

He gestured vaguely toward the well-equipped medical bay. "This is the first place I've practiced medicine by choice rather than being forced. The first place my skills have served healing rather than maintaining property value."

The bitterness in his final words revealed wounds that professional composure couldn't fully hide—scars from years serving masters who viewed his healing abilities as tools for profit rather than compassion. Ella recognized the underlying anger; it mirrored her own carefully contained rage at fifteen years of being treated as an object.

"They don't know," she realized suddenly, studying his expression. "The officers—they don't know about our connection."

Yeosang shook his head slightly. "I never speak of my years under Blackwell. The specifics of my captivity remain my own."

His gaze sharpened with sudden intensity. "But they know you. Somehow, they know you—or believe they do. The way Yunho was watching you, the way Wooyoung's mouth moves at a faster rate when he speaks about 'Ella'." Yeosang rolls his eyes with a smirk.

"I was disgusted and surprised at first when I learned the captain had purchased a slave, even more surprised when heard the amount he paid just to turn around and free you." He raised an eyebrow. "I can see there's more to it than that."

"The Crimson Serpent," Ella confirmed, the explanation forming connection between separate pieces. "Before Blackwell bought me at auction, I spent three months aboard that ship with five cabin boys who tried to protect me. They tried to rescue me during stop in Halazia but failed. I was sold while they were recaptured."

Understanding dawned in Yeosang's expression. "The blood oath," he murmured, almost to himself. "The reason they target Blackwell's operations with such specific focus."

He looked at her with renewed intensity. "Y/n, they've been searching for you for fifteen years. It's the foundation of everything they've built—the ATEEZ, their campaign against slave traders, their reputation for precise revenge. All of it began with a promise to find one little girl sold at auction."

The confirmation of Wooyoung's earlier claim—delivered now by someone who had no reason to manipulate her trust—created momentary confusion. The implications seemed too vast, too significant to fully understand immediately.

"You knew they were searching for someone," she realized, studying his expression. "But you didn't know it was me."

Yeosang nodded, his face reflecting the complexity of this revelation. "They speak occasionally of a girl they lost, a promise that drives their mission. But never specific details—not her name, not her connection to Blackwell. I assumed she was someone they met after building their reputation, not its very foundation."

He moved to a cabinet secured with small lock. With practiced motion, he retrieved a key from within his medical bag, opening the cabinet to reveal shelves of specialized equipment. From the bottom drawer, he took out a small wooden box similar to the one on his desk but larger, its surface distinguished by detailed carvings rather than simple utility.

"After joining the ATEEZ," he explained, placing the box on his examination table, "I noticed Mingi's habit of carving small wooden animals—leaving them in ports we visited, sometimes asking me to place them in specific locations when I went ashore for medical supplies."

He opened the box carefully, revealing interior compartments organized with careful precision. "I helped without understanding why—assumed it was some personal ritual or superstition. He never explained, and I never asked."

From a hidden compartment within the box's lid, he withdrew a small object wrapped in protective cloth. With gentle movements that spoke of treasured significance, he unwrapped the bundle to reveal the wooden wolf they had shared during their childhood—worn from years of handling but still recognizable, its compass marking visible on the underside.

"I kept it," he said softly. "Through eight years, four different captains, countless ports. The only thing I managed to take from Blackwell's household that day."

Ella stared at the carving, emotion welling despite her determined control. "I lost the one you left for me that night. When I was transferred to Blackwell's associate. The guards found it during the transfer, destroyed it along with everything else I'd managed to hide."

Yeosang shook his head slightly.

Understanding dawned as she connected memories previously separated. "A second wolf. You carved it for me? The one you left the night Blackwell sold you?"

"No," Yeosang corrected gently. "I never had the skill for such detailed work." He turned the wolf over, indicating the compass mark. "This is Mingi's craftsmanship. All those animals he leaves in ports—they all bear this same mark. He's been creating them for fifteen years, leaving them throughout the maritime world."

The revelation hit with unexpected force—that Mingi, the quietest of the five boys who had protected her aboard The Crimson Serpent, had continued creating tangible connection despite their separation. That the wooden wolf she and Yeosang had treasured during their years in Blackwell's household had been Mingi's creation all along, its compass mark his signature rather than mere decoration.

"He leaves them hoping you might find one and recognize his work," Yeosang continued, his voice softening with newfound understanding. "For two years, I've been helping him distribute these messages without realizing they were meant for you—that you were the lost girl they've searched for all this time."

Ella reached into her pocket and withdrew the small leather pouch she kept hidden on her person at all times. From within, she removed a tiny wooden figure—not a wolf but a sparrow with folded wings, small enough to hide completely within her closed fist.

"I found this in the garden after a storm knocked down part of the wall," she explained, holding it where Yeosang could see. "Two years after you were sold. I didn't realize it was connected to the wolf—thought it was just similar craftsmanship."

Yeosang studied the sparrow, recognition dawning in his expression. "Mingi's work again. The compass mark is identical." He looked up, newfound understanding in his eyes. "They've been closer than we realized all these years—their search and our survival running parallel without crossing until now."

The meeting of these separate paths—five boys who became feared pirates searching for a lost girl, two children who survived Blackwell's household supporting each other through secret connection—created meaning beyond chance. It seemed like more than chance that these paths crossed—five boys turned pirates looking for a lost girl, and two children who had helped each other survive Blackwell's house.

"Do you trust them?" she asked, the question showing vulnerability she rarely displayed.

Yeosang considered this carefully, his natural caution evident in measured response. "I trust their intentions," he said finally. "Their protection of the vulnerable is genuine rather than strategic. Their opposition to the slave trade comes from personal conviction rather than mere profit opportunity."

He studied her thoughtfully. "Seonghwa reminds me of you," she observed suddenly. "The way he organizes everything, his careful movements, how he keeps emotion behind careful thinking."

"He's nothing like me," Yeosang replied, an unusual edge entering his voice. "His control comes from natural preference for order. Mine was beaten into me through eight years serving masters who viewed showing emotion as a fault needing correction."

The raw honesty—expressing personal history he clearly revealed to few—created momentary silence between them. Ella recognized the pain beneath his words; it echoed her own experience of enforced compliance through systematic punishment.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean—"

"No," he interrupted, regret immediately replacing defensiveness. "You couldn't have known. I've never spoken of those years to anyone aboard the ATEEZ. Not even the captain knows the specifics of my captivity after Blackwell."

The admission—that he had shared his full history with no one else aboard ship—emphasized the importance of their reconnection. Like her, Yeosang had survived through careful compartmentalization, revealing only what circumstances required rather than complete truth.

"Will you tell them?" he asked after a moment, echoing the question from earlier with new context. "That you're y/n? That you remember them from The Crimson Serpent?"

She considered this carefully, weighing factors with careful assessment built through years of calculated survival. "Not yet," she decided. "I need to understand their expectations first. What they believe 'y/n' should be after fifteen years. What they want from her—from me—beyond keeping a childhood promise."

Yeosang nodded acceptance without judgment, his respect for her choice as clear now as it had been during their shared captivity. "Your identity remains yours to reveal or withhold," he affirmed. "I won't betray your trust."

The promise carried weight beyond its simple words—alliance without demand, support without expectation. Unlike potential pressure from others who might discover her secret, Yeosang offered protection for her choice rather than pushing for a particular outcome.

Ella placed the wooden sparrow beside the wolf on the examination table, the two carvings creating tangible evidence of connection kept despite fifteen years' separation. "Everything connects," she said softly. "Paths I thought completely cut somehow coming together against impossible odds."

"Not impossible," Yeosang corrected gently. "Unlikely, certainly. But we always knew connection lasted beyond separation. That's why we passed the wolf between us—solid proof that bonds survive despite deliberate division."

His words echoed their childhood understanding, the philosophy that had kept them going through Blackwell's systematic attempts to isolate and control. Even as children, they had recognized that genuine connection represented resistance against calculated dehumanization—that sharing the wooden wolf created meaning beyond mere comfort.

"I've missed you," Ella admitted, the simple truth emerging without tactical consideration. "Every day since Blackwell sold you. Even after I buried the memory to survive, something remained missing."

The unguarded confession—so different from her carefully measured responses since boarding the ATEEZ—reflected the unique safety Yeosang represented. With him alone, she could express vulnerability without fear of exploitation, reveal emotion without risk of manipulation.

"I searched for you," he responded, matching her honesty with his own. "After the ATEEZ freed me. When Hongjoong offered free movement at port calls, I used that freedom to track Blackwell's operations, hoping to find some record of where he had sent you."

The revelation—that his first use of newfound liberty had been searching for her—created unexpected emotion. After fifteen years believing herself forgotten or abandoned by everyone who had ever shown her kindness, discovering that both Yeosang and the ATEEZ officers had actively sought her challenged core assumptions that had guided her survival.

"But Blackwell erased the trail deliberately," Yeosang continued, frustration evident despite his controlled expression. "His records showed only that you had been transferred to a business associate, with no documentation of identity or location. By then, eight years had passed since our separation—the trail had grown cold before I even began searching."

"He sold me to a man named Calloway," Ella explained, the name still bitter on her tongue despite the years. "A trading partner who specialized in 'premium domestic personnel' for wealthy households. The transfer was deliberately kept from official records—private arrangement between business associates rather than formal sale."

Something darkened in Yeosang's expression at this information—recognition of deliberate concealment designed to prevent exactly the kind of search he had attempted. "Blackwell understood the value of strategic concealment even then," he observed, professional analysis masking deeper emotion. "His operation has only grown more sophisticated in recent years."

"The ATEEZ's campaign has forced adaptation," Ella noted, her own tactical assessment engaging with his. "Their systematic targeting of his ships created operational challenges that required improved security protocols. Blackwell speaks of them with genuine fear disguised as contempt—'The Compass Crew' who appear without warning and disappear before naval response can gather."

Yeosang's expression shifted slightly at this information—pride briefly visible beneath professional composure. "They've earned their reputation through careful precision rather than random violence," he acknowledged. "Each raid specifically designed to disrupt slave trading operations with minimal civilian damage."

"You admire them," Ella observed, studying his reaction carefully.

"I respect what they've built," he corrected, though the distinction seemed mostly semantic. "Their opposition to the slave trade goes beyond mere piracy—they target specific operations with tactical intelligence that military vessels lack. And they treat freed captives with dignity rather than simply alternative utility."

The assessment aligned with her own observations of the ATEEZ's unusual culture, yet hearing it from Yeosang—who had witnessed their operations from within for two years—carried additional weight. Unlike her necessarily limited perspective as recent arrival, his evaluation incorporated extended observation across multiple campaigns.

"And personally?" she prompted, seeking understanding beyond professional assessment. "Beyond their tactical approach and ethical stance?"

Yeosang considered this more carefully, weighing personal opinion against professional evaluation. "They're good men operating within a brutal world," he said finally. "Their methods reflect necessity rather than natural inclination. In another life, they might have been scholars, artists, builders—their intelligence and skills directed toward creation rather than strategic destruction."

The insight revealed deeper understanding than mere tactical alliance—genuine appreciation for the complexity underlying the ATEEZ officers' fearsome reputation. Unlike outsiders who saw only calculated violence, Yeosang recognized the fundamental principles guiding their operations.

"Hongjoong carries the heaviest burden," he continued, his voice softening slightly. "Each decision, each casualty, each compromise weighs on him even when necessity leaves no alternative. Yet he never passes that weight to others—maintains responsibility without giving up despite personal cost."

"And Seonghwa?" Ella asked, curious about his perception of the quartermaster whose controlled precision had reminded her of Yeosang himself.

"The foundation that enables Hongjoong's leadership," he replied without hesitation. "His careful analysis balances the captain's intuitive strategy, creating operational effectiveness that neither could achieve alone." He paused thoughtfully before adding, "Their partnership represents complementary strengths rather than competition—rare in any context, nearly unique among pirates."

"Wooyoung?" she prompted, continuing her exploration of his perspectives on the officers.

A small but genuine smile touched Yeosang's features—rare expression she remembered from their childhood, reserved for moments of authentic pleasure rather than strategic presentation. "Exactly as he appears," he said. "His theatrical energy isn't performance but genuine nature. Yet beneath the constant movement lies remarkable intelligence—he gathers information through casual conversation that formal questioning could never extract."

"Yunho, the heart of their operation," Yeosang answered immediately. "His natural kindness could be mistaken for weakness by those who don't understand its function. But his compassion creates bonds throughout the crew that tactical authority alone could never establish. The men follow Hongjoong's orders out of respect, but they'd die for Yunho out of genuine loyalty."

"And Mingi—" Yeosang stated finally.

Ella leaned forward particularly interested in his assessment of the quiet gunner whose wooden carvings had unknowingly connected all three of them across fifteen years.

Yeosang's expression grew more thoughtful, suggesting deeper consideration than previous responses required. "The most complex despite appearing simplest," he said carefully. "His quiet exterior hides remarkable perception and emotional intelligence. He observes relationships and interactions that others miss entirely, understands motivations beyond surface behavior."

This assessment aligned with Ella's own observations of Mingi's watchful presence, his rare words carrying weight out of proportion to their economy. Yet Yeosang's insight suggested deeper understanding than mere tactical evaluation—genuine appreciation for complexities others might overlook.

"Why did you stay with them?" she asked, the question addressing fundamental choice rather than mere circumstance. "When Hongjoong offered freedom without obligation, why remain aboard a pirate vessel rather than establishing independent practice?"

The question clearly struck deeper territory than previous exchange, Yeosang's expression shifting toward greater reserve before deliberately relaxing into unusual openness. "Because they offered genuine choice rather than merely alternative obligation," he said finally. "And because their mission against slave traders represented purpose beyond mere survival—opportunity to transform personal suffering into constructive resistance."

The explanation revealed philosophical alignment rather than merely practical arrangement—shared principles rather than simple convenience. Unlike her carefully calculated assessment of potential alliance aboard the ATEEZ, Yeosang had found authentic purpose that went beyond tactical advantage.

"And now?" she asked softly. "Knowing who I am—that I'm the girl they've searched for all these years?"

"The choice remains yours," he assured her immediately. "Whether you reveal your identity or maintain your current presentation, my loyalty extends to you directly rather than merely their mission. Whatever you decide, I'll support without qualification or condition."

The promise—alliance without demand, protection without expectation—created emotion beyond tactical assessment. For fifteen years, Ella had navigated captivity through careful calculation of advantage against vulnerability, protection against exploitation. Yeosang's unconditional support represented freedom beyond mere physical liberation—choice without strategic consequence.

"Thank you," she whispered, the simple gratitude encompassing far more than his current assurance.

Without conscious decision, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace that went beyond tactical consideration. The contact—initiated without calculation or strategic purpose—represented emotional truth rather than rational assessment, genuine connection rather than deliberate action.

For a moment, Yeosang remained perfectly still, his body tense with surprise at this unexpected physical closeness. Then, with careful movements that suggested both unfamiliarity and genuine desire, his arms encircled her in returned embrace—tentative at first, then firmer as emotional response overcame habitual caution.

It was the first genuine human contact either had experienced in fifteen years without tactical purpose or enforced compliance—chosen connection rather than calculated advantage or unwanted imposition. The simple act of embracing contained healing beyond words, tangible proof that something fundamental had survived fifteen years of deliberate dehumanization.

"We made it," she whispered against his shoulder, the words emerging from deep recognition rather than conscious thought. "Despite everything, we survived to find each other again."

His arms tightened briefly, the gesture conveying agreement beyond verbal confirmation. For several moments, they remained in this unexpected connection, neither willing to break physical proof of reunion after fifteen years believing the other forever lost. When they finally separated, Yeosang's carefully controlled expression had softened into genuine emotion—vulnerability he clearly revealed to no one else aboard the ATEEZ.

"I should return to my cabin," Ella said eventually, practical consideration overriding emotional need. "Extended absence might draw unwanted attention."

Yeosang nodded, understanding flowing between them without extensive explanation. "Dawn watch is quietest," he replied, the practical information conveyed in neutral tone that would appear unremarkable to potential observers. "Medical bay remains unoccupied until morning rounds begin."

The invitation for further private conversation registered clearly despite its indirect delivery—evidence that some habits formed under surveillance remained useful aboard pirate vessel despite apparent freedom. Ella nodded understanding, grateful for his continued respect for strategic communication.

"Rest well, Angel," she said softly, the childhood nickname carrying new meaning after fifteen years' separation. "Thank you for keeping our wolf safe all these years."

As she prepared to leave, Yeosang carefully rewrapped the wooden wolf and pressed it into her hands. "Take it," he said quietly. "It's always been meant for moments when either of us needed strength. Tonight, that's you."

The gesture—returning their shared treasure without qualification or condition—echoed their childhood exchanges, when the carved animal had passed between them during difficult periods. Unlike those earlier transfers, conducted through careful concealment to avoid Blackwell's notice, this exchange occurred through deliberate choice rather than desperate necessity.

"Until tomorrow," she promised, securing the wolf within her clothing with practiced movement that spoke of years hiding treasured possessions from hostile discovery.

As she slipped silently from the medical bay, moving through darkened corridors with habitual caution, Ella felt subtle shift in her carefully maintained reality. For fifteen years, survival had required calculated solitude—alliance temporary and limited, connection dangerous beyond immediate advantage. Now, against all probability, genuine recognition had appeared in the most unlikely location: aboard notorious pirate vessel, among men feared throughout maritime world for ruthless efficiency and precise vengeance.

The officers of the ATEEZ had built their fearsome reputation on the foundation of childhood oath to find one lost girl. And now that very girl moved through their ship's passages, carrying knowledge that could fulfill fifteen years' search or shatter carefully maintained alliance. The power of that knowledge—the choice to acknowledge or deny her true identity—represented freedom unlike any she had experienced since childhood.

For the first time in fifteen years, y/n held genuine choice rather than merely strategic options. The realization carried both excitement and terror as she returned to her cabin in the heart of the most feared pirate vessel on the seven seas, its black sails cutting through darkness like shadow given form, its reputation for merciless precision earned through years of calculated violence against slave traders who never understood the personal vendetta driving their destruction.

Clutching the wooden wolf Mingi had carved fifteen years earlier—the tangible connection that had unknowingly linked her to both her past aboard The Crimson Serpent and her seven years with Yeosang under Blackwell's control—she whispered her nightly ritual, the familiar names grounding her amid turbulent revelation: "Joongie, Hwa, Woo, Yuyu, Puppy."

But tonight, she added the sixth name without hesitation, acknowledgment rather than discovery: "Angel."

Tomorrow would bring further navigation of this complex situation—continued assessment of the officers' expectations, strategic planning for potential outcomes, careful balancing of vulnerability against advantage. But tonight, for the first time since childhood, she allowed herself to think about possibility beyond mere survival—connection beyond calculated alliance, protection beyond temporary advantage.

Taglist: @hopeless-lovex0 @frankielou02 @jilxxasu @kur0kki @lezleeferguson-120 @uniquecloudbread @miniverse-zen @symmieangela @monstacheol @ateezswonderland

#ateez fanfic #ateez pirate au #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #mingi x reader #seonghwa x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong #jeong yunho #song mingi #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa #ateez angst

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taniahylian · 17 days ago

Text

Matilda's memory loss

This is a theory I thought about the other day after finishing the 2.5 event, Showdown in Chinatown (so if you haven't finished that event, click out if you want to avoid spoilers), but before I fully explain it, I'll give you some context.

In the first stage of Chapter 3, we're introduced to SPDM with a teacher asking the kids about the war between humans and arcanists that happened in Constantinople. First, Sonetto gives an answer that pretty much puts all the blame of the war and the eventual result (the arcanists being defeated) on the arbitrary and violent nature of arcanists. Then Matilda interferes with information that was provided to her by her grandpa.

Matilda's version of the story is pretty much the opposite to Sonetto's; the humans ransaked Constantinople to gain access to the literature of arcanum, and then isolated and blamed arcanists, forcing them into hiding.

Although the truth is most likely somewhere in between, you can probably see that Matilda's version is more in line with Manus Vindictae's way of thinking; humans have been marginalizing arcanists for centuries and stripping them from any position of power (although of course the Manus use this as an excuse for revenge, which Matilda never suggests). More so, it hints at Matilda's family knowing something about the origin of the name "arcanists", which I wouldn't be surprised if it has something to do with Arcana herself.

Now, what happens next? The teacher inquires further to see what else Matilda can tell them about this version of the story and the song it came from, however, strangely enough, Matilda can't remember anything else.

She even goes as far as remarking how weird it is, since she had been humming it just the night before. And it's not like Matilda usually has bad memory; being the third best student in the school, she's bound to have above average memory, so it's even stranger that this is happening to her.

Now, my first assumption (and I most ppl's probably), was that the Foundation was brainwashing the kids and making them forget the outside world... but that's not the case; all of the kids Vertin asks later on remember at least something from their life before joining SPDM. More so, I always saw it as a plothole that the Foundation could erase memories, but then didn't do that to make the kids (or at the very least Vertin) forget about the disastrous parade ceremony, that even Constantine admits was a bad move on their part.

I even thought maybe the whole artificial sonambulism they put Vertin through might have been to, not only keep her in a coma, but also to erase whatever bad memories she had of the foundation and therefore make her more obedient. But as we see in the Tuesday's event, Vertin clearly hasn't forgotten about her friends or how they died.

So... what caused Matilda's memory loss then? Well, the answer is simple: her mom. Hear me out.

During the 2.5 event, we learn that Scott stole and sold 5 arcane items from the Foundation's archives, but her motivations and her methods seem very suspicious, so Black Ibis, a member of the Vigils, keeps her under surveillance after they're unable to learn anything by interrogating her. And this vigilance pays off; she is soon contacted by none other than Matilda's mom.

By the looks of it, Matilda's mom is able to hypnoptize other ppl at a distance (we don't even know where she is), and contact whoever she wants by the use of crystals. She can also lock memories of ppl to prevent any information she doesn't want to fall into someone else's hands from being retrieved. That's what she did to Scott... and to Matilda too, probably.

Listen, Matilda's mom is very suspicious. Black Ibis mentions that one of the items stolen could perhaps be used for "that ritual" (probably Arcana's resurrection), and so whoever stole it likely has that as a goal. However, it seems she's been pretending to be in the Foundation's side all this time, to the point she sent her daughter to SPDM and she herself was staying at a Foundation's safe house. But of course she's highly intelligent and talented, and so, to prevent any sensitive information from being found by the foundation, she locked some of Matilda's memories, just in case the Foundation would try to pry into Matilda's mind.

Matilda very likely even knows where her mother is, but that memory is locked. If her powers were more developed, however, she probably would be able to break this barriers and find her. At least that's how I interpret what her mother said to Scott.

But why lock the memories about the song Matilda's grandfather used to sing? Probably because the song, somehow, is associated with Manus Vindictae, Arcana, or some other group that the Foundation deems as dangerous. Remember that Matilda comes from a long line of pure blooded and extremely talented arcanists (as is explained in her first bond story); exactly the type of arcanists that would be most likely to be approached by the Manus.

In any case, I hope we'll find more about this in the future. Let me know what you think!

#reverse 1999 #r1999 #theory #analysis #matilda bouanich #constance scott #beryl bouanich #showdown in chinatown #nouvelles et textes pour rien

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enwoso · 1 year ago

Note

Alessia Russo + reporter!gf, where Alessia is nonstop flirting with Reader on national television when you're trying to interview her

live to all | alessia russo

masterlist

you were a sports journalist for itv, travelling up and down the country as well as across the world each week to cover matches as well as try and get some of the players thoughts and opinions on the game.

today was the england lionesses vs sweden at home, at a sold out wembley. the game being tense but the girls pulling out a win by one goal and of course it being scored by non other than the alessia russo who just happened to be on your radar to interview.

normally it would take some convincing from some players to get them to do a quick post match interview, most players after a win wanting to celebrate and after a loss was when it was even harder to get players to interview as they just generally weren’t in the mood, understandably.

however luckily you wouldn’t have to do much convincing to get england’s star girl for an interview as she just so happened to also be your girlfriend. so one little bat of the eyelashes and a flash of the smile and the blonde would be right over.

so as your team handed her a mic as she walked over from the pitch hugging you tight as you sent her a loving smile trying your best to remain professional but the girl just looked so gorgeous even after running around a pitch for ninety minutes, her hair slicked back a few flyaways had came loose above her as well as her cheeks being slightly flushed pink probably from the amount of running she’d done.

“so alessia another sold out wembley for the lionesses, does the feeling ever change walking out and seeing that many people in the stadium?” you began the interview as alessia nodded along with what you were saying, her bottom lip inbetween her teeth as you watched as her eyes roamed your face as she held her eye contact with you instead of the camera like she was supposed to.

there was a slight pause between your question and the blonde starting her answer, “oh um it definitely helps to keep us motivated whilst we are playing- as we love seeing our fans pack out stadiums and creating as much noise as possible!”

“speaking of motivation, what helps to keep you fired up especially when your playing top teams like sweden?” you asked as you seen alessia giggle to herself, you being thankful for the fact that the camera can’t see the look your throwing alessia right now.

“well away from football there’s definitely someone who does that for me-” the blonde making direct eye contact with you as a smirk crept onto her face. you knew exactly what she was insinuating on and while the your relationship wasn’t exactly out there it wasn’t a big secret either fans definitely had their suspicions and alessia right now was definitely adding fuel to that fire.

she carried on, you sending the blonde another stern look that told her to behave, “but the staff at england as well as the girls we all do our part to ensure that’s we can all play to the best of our ability to ensure we get the result that we want as a team and as a nation” she smiled innocently as she finished awaiting your next question.

you began to explain the importance of the goal that alessia scored to start off the lionesses euro qualifying campaign while alessia well she was just staring at you, totally zoned out as she licked her lips. her eyes scanning your outfit as she imagined maybe what it would look like on the floor of your shared bedroom…

“and finally how does it feel to finally get your first goal at wembley especially the one that sealed the win for you guys” you finished with a quick smile, slightly kicking the blonde which wasn’t able to be seen by the camera which shook the blonde from her daydream.

“oh- um, wait i- sorry what was the question?” alessia flushed red with embarrassment as you were the one now with a smirk, knowing by her face she hadn’t been listening and also having a suspicion of why she hadn’t been but nevertheless repeating the question again for her.

“yeah, it’s always a good feeling to score at wembley makes it that little bit special but anything to help the team out”

“well thank you alessia and well done for tonight!” you applauded with a smile as alessia nodded, “thank you babe” alessia said so causally, you quickly spinning around mouth wide open as you eyes widened.

the interview already been finished as your team off-mic’d you both. alessia with a smirk which was widening on her face, you knew she had done that on purpose.

“i love you?” she whispered, as she looked at your less than pleased look on your face.

“your on thin ice miss russo!” you warned narrowing your eyes at the blonde as she slung her arm around your shoulders guiding you both down the tunnel as you knew she was rolling her eyes at your stern tone.

“hey! it’s not my fault the person who was interviewing me happened to be my really sexy, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend!”

#alessia russo #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo x reader #woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso blurbs #arsenal women #awfc #arsenal wfc #awfc imagine #lionesses #leah williamson x reader #england women #england wnt #england #enwoso

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vicsstufff · 4 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO — SWEET trash TALK

warnings: my girl camila gets in problems, language, fighting (?), disturbing behavior, protective p (?), shortt.

BTS masterlist

pairing: hopkins!p.bueckers x exchange student!oc

taglist: @rebecca-woso , @unadulteratedcyclepaper , @authentic-girl03 , @starlighttsv , @avvwritesstufff

authors note: seconddd chapterrr, i have been so lazy to write omg like its baddd. i also had a minor surgery on friday but im recovering now and i wont go to school for a hole week! enjoy! comment if u wanna be added to the taglist!

ONE WEEK BEFORE SCHOOL.

“how about you go and get tickets for the upcoming game? high school season starts very soon.” michel reached for his wallet and grabbed some money inside it and handed it to camila. michel loved basketball, he did it for some time and even planned on doing it in college but his plans got interrupted once he moved to washington. adrianna didn’t share the same passion as michel did, but she did enjoy it watching it and supporting teams, it remembered her the last year of high school, when he was a cheerleader for the american football team, she even showed camila some tricks! life’s had been too good to be true, she tried the so famous milkshakes ‘p’ told her about, she went camping in the near by woods and saw a girl that looked oddly similar to what ‘p’ described herself. from afar she looked very animated and cheerful, everyone had a smile drawn on their face near her and it even made camila creep a smile while she focused on her.

camila reached for the money and started to mentally count the money and after placed it on the back of her pockets, “the leftover money, you can spend it on anything you want.” michel softly spoked with a assuring smile and camila gave a small nod making her way out the house door.

the afternoon chilly air filled up camila’s nostrils quickly while closing the door behind her, her nose become a softly pink that made her fingers grip into her hoodie, almost sprinting to the closest store near a school that sold tickets.

she entered the store when she suddenly bumped into someone, she closed her eyes waiting for another impact to happen, when she heard a loud groan coming from the person she bumped with. she slowly opened her eyes to see.

a dark haired girl glared down at her light pink shirt, dripping from the chocolate milkshake that had fallen upon her because of the sudden crash, “oh.my.god..look what you have done! dumb bitch!” the taller girl shouted not before launching her—now empty— milkshake away from her, “can’t you see were you’re going!?” she barked at camila, the curly haired girl took a deep breath before speaking to defend herself, “you were right in front of the door!” camila snapped back at her. the fuming woman gave her an acknowledgment look, looking closely at her face and the clothe she wore, when her eyes stopped at her hair, her nose wrinkled, a sign of disgust. camila did made a mental note about how curly haired people were kinda extinct in this area, but it looked like this girl had never seen a curly person never in her life and she observed camila like if she was a disgusting bug that landed in her milkshake. “jesus, rose. let’s go, you can later buy a new one.” a girl behind her grabbed this called rose by her wrist and dragged her out the store.

camila felt rotten inside when rose give her hair a nasty glaze, she didn’t really define it this morning and forgot to put on her bonnet on before going to sleep, it wasn’t that terrible, but rose made it feel like if her hair had gained consciousness and insulted her in every way possible.

“looking for tickets?” a voice took her out of her state of mind, it was coming from the register. “yeah, um. sorry for the inconvenience.” camila added quickly, gathering herself into walking to the register, taking out the money from her pocket. “no worries, rose is a regular problem around here.” the guy explained, taking something behind the counter. “i recommend you to stay out of her way, even if you go to the same school.” he stated, camila’s eyes widen with the response he gave to her. “how do you know where school i’m going to?” she inquired, a stranger knew about her transfer to a new school, did he also know where was she born? “rumors fly fast. brazilian?” he added, handing her the tickets. “um, yes.” camila snatched the tickets from the strangers hands and stumbled with counting the money almost launching it towards the register.

she made her way out of the store, it was now clearly dark, the parking lot was now lonely and the kids that were near the park had gone to the safety of their homes. a wet, tangy nose sniffed her hand rapidly, she looked down surprised to see a small golden retriever, once the dog noticed they got finally someone’s attention, their tail wiggled with emotion and started letting out small barks.

“oh, hello buddy.” camila reached down to pet the small creature, the pure night brought with it a gentle breeze, but strong enough to make camila shiver under her hoodie, the puppy didn’t escape the cold air, making it also start to shiver, that camila did notice.

she knew monica needed a little company and michel has been dying to adopt a golden retriever—it reminded him of his dog back in canada— camila gently grabbed the dog, scooping it around her arms as if it was going to protect the cold dog.

she took a moment to analyze the pup under her protection, when a sharp pain appeared on the bridge of her nose, a gushy feeling making its way down her nostril, landing on the soft fur of the body she was holding dearly. the dog sniffed the gently the blood disturbing his back. “shit— uh” camila gasped under her shaky breath, looking behind her, into the store, the guy was still looking at her, almost wanting to burn holes into her clothes, this made camila shiver even more. going back into that store was not a good idea.

her phone started vibrating in her pocket, she struggled to keep the dog safe in her arms while taking her phone out, the word ‘p 💗’ decorated the screen brightly.

“yoo, i just saw rose fucking nepobaby and she was fuming!” p exclaimed happily, “i wonder who got her like that.” camila bite down her lip starting to walk towards her house. “it was—um, me.. actually..” camila mumbled, just high enough for p to hear her. “no way..” p gasped, in the background you could hear rumbling across whatever room she was destroying. “let’s leave that conversation for another time..” camila said low, embarrassed.

she was barely new to the town and she was already causing problems, adrianna warned her, yet she didn’t listen. “did you lose something?” she added quickly not wanting the conversation to die. “my uniform! i swear i left it beside my backpack.” p let out a loud sigh. “okay, um, about rose.. why call her a nepobaby?” camila questioned sniffing her nose trying to prevent anymore blood flowing from her nose. “she sucks at basketball, she is only in the team because her daddy is rich!” p exclaimed, pumping herself into laying on her bed, exhausted from looking everywhere, “are you catching a cold? wait— did rose do something to you?” p quickly insinuated hearing the constant sniff from across the line. “just some bloody nose. i’m okay.” camila explained.

her footsteps becoming quicker and unstable, her throat was attacked by the feeling of being burned, she could taste the metallic blood in her mouth, the golden retriever dedicated itself to lick the dry milkshake that stained camila’s hoodie.

“not to worry you, but you and rose are going to the same school.” p laughed before quickly shouting down the giggle threatening to come out of her lips, “that just made my night worse, maybe my whole school year too.” camila groaned putting down the puppy and started fidgeting with her keys. once she entered the house, silence adorned the warm walls, monica came sprinting towards her, amused by the sudden view of new company.

“don’t worry love, if she does something to you, she will pay, trust.” p whispered, a lovely smile creeping its way into her lips, “not only on the court.” camila attacked quickly, marching her way up her bedroom.

“if she has soo much money, why doesn’t she go to a private school?” camila whined into her pillow, “she did, but! her father changed schools because of her bad grades.” p explained, gathering herself up, determined to find her uniform.

“she is going to eat me alive..” camila whimpered

“im supposed to do that.” p let out, not thinking twice about the weight of her words.

“paige! what the fuck!” camila let out a high chuckle laying her back on the bed looking tensely at her ceiling. “want to go for milkshakes before first day of school?” p hinted, “sounds like a plan.”

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artist-issues · 3 months ago

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do you think that it’s bad for a people group to keep thinking about the impact slavery had on them in the past?

I think the only utility in it is learning your history: that mankind is depraved and can sell and buy one another, and treat one another like less-than-human, and so watch out for the signs that a society is starting to blur the line about what makes a human a human in the image of God.

and that’s it.

I have a friend who said something really good about this when we went to Togo. After we visited the historical site where the Togolese sold one another to the colonists and saw the places where those people were treated like hated cattle, we were discussing the topic. But my friend just sat there and didn’t join in. And we were all kind of wanting her to, because her family has lived in our hometown for generations, and our hometown was on the map at the historical site where the Togolese were sold out of. So you know. Odds are, her ancestors were from there, where we were standing. Or at least they suffered the same fate from ports like it all up and down the African coast. We wanted to hear her thoughts in particular. But she didn’t say anything.

And afterward I was nagging her about it, I was like, “you have to say something in moments like that, we all want to hear you!”

And she (is not your ordinary person) just laughed at me and said, “I knew it! Every time one of you said something (about the historical site and the slavery topic) it was like you would glance at me to see what I thought or if I was passing judgement. But why should I have anything to say? I don’t speak for everyone else. Especially people who died hundreds of years ago. It’s horrible, and it’s sin, but that’s (slavery’s) not me. That’s not my identity. It’s not yours either. Just look at what God’s done since then.”

I wish I could introduce everybody to this friend of mine. You’d see she’s like that all the time. I’ve known her for almost ten years now and she’s one of the most insightful, chill, wise, fun (she can quote all of Barnyard and SharkTale) people I’ve ever met in my life. I think she was totally right about this (she’s also been right about everything we’ve ever talked about, for context.)

I’m quoting her because if anyone had a right to be thinking about ancestral slavery any type of way, it would be my dear friend. We were standing in the place with a high likelihood of being where her specific greatx grandparents were stolen from their homes and brought to this country as slaves. But she thought about it healthily instead of unhealthily.

I mean we don’t do this when our family-history has a good, prosperous chapter in it, right? When your great great great great grandfather builds a thriving company from the ground up, and generations later the wealth of your family still speaks to the prosperity he had—but if you try and say, “I know about sacrifice! I know about hard work! My grandfather went through all this stuff to build this company!” Most people would roll their eyes at you and tell you you’ve been privileged, that just because your grandfather experienced and lived through some major stuff, that doesn’t mean you’ve earned the right to claim that major stuff. You didn’t go through those experiences.

That’s what we do with positive family history. But with negative family history, what’s going on? Why do we make that our whole identity? “My ancestors were slaves!” and then we don’t say “so that gives me authority to speak to this/so I know how it feels/so I deserve [this-or-that]” but we live like we’ve somehow inherited what happened to them.

And we haven’t. We just haven’t. We haven’t. It’s part of history. It’s not part of our experience.

When we went to that place in Togo they lowered me down into the hole the slaves were lowered into under the colonist’s house’s floorboards and had me squat there, in the dark, for just fifteen minutes, unable to stand up or stretch out or see, while they explained from the floor over my head that I should also be imagining that I’m naked, surrounded on all sides by crowds of frightened grieving people in the same predicament, packed in so close that we can’t even move sideways, either. And other horrors, of course, like the fact that there’s no bathroom, their own tribespeople helped put them in this hole, and the food only came from the hole itself, so if you were furthest away from it in the dark under-the-floor-of-the-house crawlspace, you could just starve to death because it never reaches you. You hope the other sufferers around you are kind enough to pass you food, but you don’t all speak the same language because you’re from different tribes all over the continent. And this is all before you’re even put on the boats away from all you’ve ever known. Just fifteen minutes, I curled up where they were forced to curl up.

Guess what I learned?

That it was just fifteen minutes.

That what I experienced in the moment I could get closest to their suffering was still nowhere even close to what they experienced.

That nothing in my life has ever approached imaginable levels of that suffering. And it’s arrogant and misguided to claim it as any part of my identity. That level of suffering is foreign to me.

And thank God it’s foreign to me.

If you want to claim other sufferings, be my guest. If you want to say, “I’ve experienced a feeling of not belonging as I waited in the line at Wal-Mart,” or “I’ve experienced my teacher using a slur to refer to me,” or “I’ve experienced the grief of a lack of justice” go for it. But it’s not the same as what they experienced.

Our ancestors who suffered through horrible things, do you think they’d want us to be going around, making our whole lives about their sufferings? Making all of our value-judgements on stories we’ve been told about what happened to them? I mean, geez, in fantasy movies when the defeated villain raises his son to burn with a lust for revenge, we think of that as a bad thing he did. He should’ve let his son grow up free, not saddled him with your hatred over experiences he was blessed enough not to have. But we don’t use that same understanding when it comes to unhealthy thoughts about our enslaved or abused ancestors.

It’s not “no thoughts at all.” It’s “think rightly.” What happened to them was an atrocity, and it should never be repeated, and if we see the seeds of that atrocity cropping up in others’ minds or our own minds—specifically a tendency to view one another as less-human-than-ourselves—we should nip it in the bud.

But we shouldn’t make that the crusade of our lives. It’s just turning yourself into a ghost. What happened to them isn’t happening to you. Live your life as if good has happened since then. You get to have friends, loves, communities, where your skin color or language or where you’re from doesn’t get to be the one thing that defines you. They didn’t get to have that. Don’t shackle yourself to an experience you never had; don’t assume that’s what your ancestors would’ve wanted you to do if they could somehow see a vision of you in the future.

It’s just common sense.

Now.

For everybody who wants to reply, “What are you on about, people groups today may not be enslaved but they are still dealing with the f***ing consequences of slavery!!! They’re still dealing with prejudices and racism and!!!” Knock it off. That wasn’t the question. The question was “should people groups who were enslaved still think about it.”

If you wanna ask me “okay then, should people who have ancestors that were enslaved/abused/massacred/discriminated against/ARE being discriminated against themselves in the present-day—should THEY think about it?!” then roll up and ask me that. But it’s a separate question. And I’m tired of this grandpa

#listen to my friend #asked #answered #I hate it when the sociopolitical bog rises up in my blog

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

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Ahhhh .. I love the Someone Older couple already !! Could we maybe get a drabble, where YN takes care of JK after his accident?

Of course!

Jungkooks house is.. huge.

But it also feels a little stale almost, like an apartment you'd find on pinterest or those websites that sell furniture. Like a display home, not being lived in.

There are some traces of him here and there, but no solid proof that it's him who's made those little hints happen- there's no personality to most of the decoration or even the furniture.

You're trying your best to help, and he's grateful. Even though you have to ask a lot, mostly where what is placed, you're still taking a good amount of weight off his shoulders.

He's eating slowly, mostly because he can't move his arm very quickly due to the bruising still, but even if he could, he wants to savor this. Not even a day of you staying over, and he's already noticed the faint smell of your bodywash lingering in his main bathroom. Your sweater on his couch. Your shoes at the door.

You're filling up his empty house with something alive. Something warm to contrast the white walls.

"Are you cold?" He asks as he notices the way you keep rubbing your socked feet against one another beneath the table.

"The tiles are cold." You say, and he chuckles.

"Gotta get you some slippers then." He suggests, and you shrug.

"Maybe." You agree. Does he want to just make you comfortable, or is he hinting at something more permanent? "Where do I sleep tonight?" You wonder, watching him finish his plate as he leans back, stretching for a second- painful face to go along with it, muscles still aching badly.

"Next to me, preferably." He shrugs after he gives up trying to have his stiff muscles relax. "But you can also take the guest room, if you'd like." Jungkook tells you, giving you another option just in case.

You feel a bit conflicted.

Will he compare you to what he knew with Evelyn if you sleep in the same bed she has before? Will he remember the things they both had, the happy times when they had cuddled or made love, and start reflecting on what this is now instead? It's weird. You want to be close to him, but not in the same spot he used to love another woman.

You're so selfish.

"I uhm.." You're not sure how to properly explain your problem, involuntarily glancing over to a coat left on the hanger near the front door, and Jungkook chuckles.

"She hated this house." He says. "She never liked it. Was angry at me for months when I bought it despite her distaste for it." Jungkook explains. "I got.. rid of most of the furniture and redesigned it all after she left."

"Huh?" You wonder, surprised.

"I just didn't want her anymore. I was hurt." He shrugs. "But in every.. object so to say, I saw a glimpse of her. Mocking me." He confesses. "And I couldn't stand it."

"So you.. threw out the furniture?" You wonder, and he laughs.

"Sold it, to be more precise." He corrects gently. "But yes. That's why it now looks so.."

"Sterile." You mumble, and he nods.

"I didn't want anything like what used to be in here. A complete opposite." He says, before he looks at the coat near the front door. "That coat by the way isn't hers. It's Taehyung's wife's." He says, watching fondly how you become a bit shy at being found out like that.

"I.. oh." You simply nod a bit awkwardly, when his hand reaches out to hold yours on the table.

"She forgot it months ago, Tae never picked it up." He chuckles. "And my bedroom has.. never seen anyone ever in it but me." He further teases, making your eyes snap up to his own, a strange, boyish excitement almost in his gaze.

"I think it's time to change that, don't you think?"

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

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katakaluptastrophy · 1 year ago

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Let's be very clear about what the Houses do.

When Gideon fantasises about leaving the Ninth, this is what she imagines:

Not for Gideon a security detail on one of the holding planets, either on a lonely outpost on an empty world or in some foreign city babysitting some Third governor. Gideon wanted a drop ship—first on the ground—a fat shiny medal saying INVASION FORCE ON WHATEVER, securing the initial bloom of thanergy without which the finest necromancer of the Nine Houses could not fight worth a damn. The front line of the Cohort facilitated glory. In her comic books, necromancers kissed the gloved palms of their front-liner comrades in blessed thanks for all that they did. In the comic books none of these adepts had heart disease, and a lot of them had necromantically uncharacteristic cleavage.

A drop ship of infantry. Armed with those infantry standard two-hander swords. Their job is to secure the initial bloom of thanergy. Which sounds like a very antiseptic way of saying that a House invasion starts with a suicide squad of teenagers whose job it is to cause as many casualties as possible, so that the necromancers have something to work with. Teenagers like Gideon, desperate serfs or just wanting to make something of themselves, sold a promise of sex and glory, economic assets of their far-flung Houses until their untimely deaths.

But how useful their deaths, and those they take with them are! To the necromanvers of the Second, who can drain your thalergy as you die screaming. The Third, who can draw energy from the corpses littering the battlefield. The Fourth, who can turn them into bombs...

Until the subdued planet can be flipped, a contract put in place, a profit exacted. That Third governor installed.

Later, John explains to Harrow how planets are flipped:

So back at the start we’d drop in a single Lyctor, unnoticed, to start the thanergy reaction. Not to flip the whole planet, you understand, just to get the juice flowing.” He made a hand gesture for get the juice flowing, which made your head hurt. “Then within an hour or two you could send down a team of adepts and be confident they’d have all the reserves they needed. Nowadays we can’t afford to use Lyctors, so the first strike falls to the men and women of the Cohort, and they do a magnificent job…but the old way was neater, and kinder too, I think.

And in NTN, Aim describes her own harrowing experience as a displaced victim of what happens after that invasion, after the long and exploitative economic contract, and after the planet finally succumbs to its flipping:

The usual. It had been under contract for a long time. I mean, we were the third settlement wave, they built the Crescent in the bones of two other cities, you couldn’t dig up anything without finding remnants of a people we’d never known. The microbial population didn’t show signs of serious decay until the moment before the sea went anaerobic. The things crawling out of there … they seemed to mutate all at once … The Houses pulled support, said they’d prep us for an early move, but they left minimal forces in the barracks. We dug up old caches of materiel and used them. On the mutants from the sea, on the animals as they changed, on one another, on the Houses when they saw what we’d got our hands on and came back to take control. Blood of Eden was there too, you know. And in the end the Houses won and most of us surrendered and we were moved. Two moves later, and I’m here. There’s still a facility on Lemuria, of course. A decade later the Houses made it safe for geopolymer refining. It must be desolate.

And so you get the "lonely outpost on an empty world", the assignment Gideon saw as so unglamorous.

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #gideon nav #john gaius

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lil-quinnie · 1 year ago

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Pity party

part I

Warning +18 smut, jealous Eddie

Summary college au After Eddie kissed the girl in front of you, you decide you NEED to move on.

F!boy Eddie x Plus size reader

a/n: Hi guys, sorry for the delay in posting part 2. I was very insecure about the story and this year I started working as a full time teacher so time is also very limited, anyway. Sorry for any typo or mistake, i'm brazilian god danmitt. I hope you like it <3

The return to your dorm was humiliating, you tried to explain everything that had happened amid sobs and inaudible words, Steve tried to support most of your weight in his arms as he guided you safely to your room. The boy tried to comfort you the whole way, even though he knew what his best friend had done would be difficult to reverse.

With the promise of a call he left the room and disappeared down the crowded halls of the girls' dormitory.

11am

you woke up to an excited call from Robin and Steve, talking about a party that was going to happen that night and how it would be the perfect opportunity for you to try to get a certain metalhead out of your head.

"so, there will be this band and I'm sure one of the members will be your type...I promise" Steve said without thinking, receiving an elbow in the ribs from his best friend "dingus" Robin said rolling her eyes "We pick you up at 8?" the girl asked hopefully.

Even though you didn't want to interact with a lot of people, you agreed that staying in bed wouldn't solve your problem. "Yeah, okay, I'll be ready at 8, bye, see you guys"

19pm

One last check in the mirror before hearing Steve's horn followed by Robin's loud laughter.

You could already see the number of people in the frat garden, indicating that the party was packed. "It's harder to find him this way" you thought , at the same time Steve squeezed your leg, checking if everything was ok.

The blue lights of the crowded living room hurt your eyes, the cigarette smoke turned into fog on the floor of the house, making those lights refract 10 times stronger back at your eyes. Nancy already had a drink for you in her hand because Robin had already told her everything, welcoming you with a smile and a hug as always.

When she let you go, the girl said just so you could hear "Eddie is looking for you”, causing you to pour the cheap liquid from the cup down your throat in one go.

On the other side of the house, the metalhead was negotiating his sales, even though it was a good day and he had sold almost everything he had brought, Eddie couldn't change the uncomfortable expression on his face.

His mind always brought back the vision of you and Steve hugging, or holding hands, hell even your schedule Steve knew and he didn't, the green bug of jealousy spent all day on his shoulder, blowing fears into his ear that he had been trying to keep away for decades.

Eddie was hustling around the party, looking for potential clients and for you. He saw Robin at the party so of course you were here too.

Some people stopped him to talk, some girls offering themselves as payment (it was no longer new to him), others trying to flirt without it being so obvious, a normal night if you were Eddie Munson.

While finishing a sale he heard your laugh, causing him to turn his entire body towards the origin of the sound, "Fuck" he thought.

Your cleavage revealed the soft mounds of your breasts, making his face burn with jealousy at the thought of anyone else being able to see what should be just his. “Harrington, of course,” he huffed as he put the crumpled bills in his pocket watching Steve making you laugh.

Eddie's eyes were shining in a purple light, never leaving your face, moving from your cleavage to your eyes and your lips, the tip of his tongue insisted on leaving his pink lip moist and shining, delicious it looked.

Eddie didn't understand what was happening, why his heart raced every time you smiled at someone else or why there was a knot in his stomach every time Steve pulled you closer, or touched your thigh while telling you a story as if you were his, but you weren't, right?

Steve excused himself from a ‘lil crown and threw himself on the old sofa next to you "hi" he said, you responded in the same tone with a shy smile, looking at each other for a while, it could be alcohol or even joints but damn! Steve was really handsome and you’re pretty sure he thinks the same about you.

Soon everybody went to fill their glasses or smoke outside, except Robin who danced with Vickie as if she didn't have early classes tomorrow, leaving you and Steve in your own bubble.

What made Eddie most angry was the fact that you seemed so comfortable with Steve, in the way he couldn't make you feel, he thought. Eddie could never make you stay close to him among a lot of people, you always found an excuse to go to the dorm or any empty place while with Steve... "fucking hell" he exclaimed, while passing the bag with the customer's product.

Eddie needed something stronger than weed if he wanted to swallow all of his wounded ego to get to you, and he couldn't do it dry. He poured the glass full of whiskey and downed it in two sips, letting a few drops of the golden liquid run down the corner of his mouth wiping it with the back of his hand, determined not to let anything pave the way to you.

You couldn't help the smile that widened every time he got closer. The rosy cheeks showed that Eddie had been drinking, a few curls of hair coming out of his low bun and that smile of someone who wants to be confident even though they're scared...

How could you be mad at him? how you could cut him out of your life while he gave you that half smile he only gave when he was embarrassed, which was rare for a guy like him.

When Steve's fingers intertwined with yours, Eddie decided he had had enough of that and with his double shot of whiskey, he swallowed all his pride to go talk to you.

His hands in his jacket pocket only showed how uncomfortable he was, even more so after the disaster that happened last night, but he would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to talk to you again before the night ended.

On the other side, you and Steve didn't notice as the metalhead approached, still lost in your own world, exchanging too many small caresses and smiles.

He could hear your voice clearly, he even swore he could already smell the moisturizer that covered your skin, so close that he could feel you under his fingerprints.

He cleared his throat trying to get the attention of the two sitting on the sofa, when he realized that he was unsuccessful, he kicked Steve's Nike, who quickly turned his head, letting a HA! to escape from his lips going together with his hands clapping in the air "Munson" he smiled sarcastically, "Harrington" Eddie raised his browns and then turned around for you "can we talk?"

"I don't know, can we?" you said, getting up from the sofa and pulling Steve with you, who protectively wrapped his arm around your waist, hugging you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder, "I have nothing to talk to you right now, Eddie", you said while broking away from Steve's hug, signaling him to lead the way away from there.

"Please, let me talk to you", but before he could hold you, you turned and snapped

"Isn't there anyone to save you again Eddie? That's why you're coming after me?",

Steve was amused by the situation, it wasn't often that he managed to get under Eddie's skin, so he planned to enjoy it.

"Follow my lead" he said with that smirk on his face.

Steve started to dance with you innocently but noticing the other man's gaze, he decided to be bold.. He had your back pressed against his hairy chest as you danced together to the beat of the music.

One of his hands held your hips against his crotch, while the other danced down your body side, stopping at your hip and pulling you closer against the tent that was beginning to form in the boy's tight jeans.

Eddie watched everything from the other side of the room, his eyes following every slow movement your body made, burning holes in the uncovered skin of your cleavage.

Every time Steve pressed his body against yours, Eddie looked away and sawed his fists, causing Steve to proudly smile.

Steve's eyes were locked with eddies while his mouth timidly explored the skin of your shoulder and neck, causing goosebumps that only a metalhead had caused to this day, when he realized that you didn't stop him, he was braver, leaving love bites on the exposed skin.

Eddie noticed when your thighs pressed together, tighter every time Steve's mouth came close to yours.

Eddie's heart missed the beat, it felt like hours of torture having to watch you like that with someone else, with his best friend on top of that.

Even though you understood the game Steve was playing, you decided to let yourself go and enjoy the little attention you rarely received. Seeing Eddie's reaction, watching each micro expression that appeared on his face was satisfying, with his knurled eyebrows and wrinkled nose you know that he was feeling the same thing you felt when he did the same in front of you.

"I need to go to the bathroom, angel. Do you want me to fill your cup?" Steve whispered in your ear and you just nodded, letting Steve go with a smile.

This was Eddie's chance to talk to you once and for all, and he no longer had the patience to put up with you being a brat.

He knew that you would go outside, that you would light a cigarette and that you would wait for Harrington until he arrived with another alcohol bomb, he also knew that if he didn't do anything, he would lose you forever.

The mild temperature due to the late hour of the morning itched your exposed skin, causing goosebumps while you unsuccessfully tried to light your cigarette, too frustrated with everything around you to really pay attention to your surroundings.

“Here” you heard a husky voice coming from near the pool house “let me help you”.

The man approached slowly, the darkness using her cloak to cover your lover's face, only making you realize it was him, by fate's trap, when it was too late.

“I’m good, Edward. Thank you very much” you replied,

"What the hell is all that? What the fuck did I do to make you like this, Huh?” Eddie held your arms tightly, forcing you to look at him, you saw the anxiety and confusion that showed in his eyes, which caused an immeasurable pleasure to ignite in the pit of your stomach as you pressed his buttons more and more.

"What do you think I am Eddie? Just a toy when you don't have one of those dumb girls to fuck?" you spat at him with no mercy "and what do you think you are for him right now?" he said dryly, "More than I ever was to you, right?" he looks… hurt.

“Are you even listening to yourself? you’re sounding delusional.” he said letting your arm go.

“Oh! Poor Munson, where's Heather? giving a blowjob to some basketball player before ending up in your bed?" you cringed at the words that should have stayed in your head, giving up on the cigarette and making your way out the conversation.

“WOW!! Who stuck a stick up your ass, cutie? Was it Stevie?” He whispered in your ear, making you pull your arm free from Eddie's grip, leaving the mark of your five fingers on the boy's rosy cheek.

“Ed… I.. I'm"

"Shut up, just shut the heck up ok?! I'm done with you” he said harshly, making you scared and before you could say something, apologize or anything, Eddie was pulling you inside the pool house.

You could feel the beats of the muffled music on the cold wall that Eddie pressed your body against.

"Eddie, I'm sorry" you pleaded, almost begging, he pinch the bridge of his nose shaking his head in disbelief “let’s talk, please” you pleaded one more time.

"Of course sweetheart, NOW you wanna talk.” he gave you some space, sitting across the room, “just tell me why you're treating me like shit and I'll leave you, forever even.”

"Eddie, you... you” you tried to explain to him but the words just went away.

“I’m what babe? tell me what I did” his voice was almost failing.

“You kissed her in front of me" you said through sobs “she said horrible things about me…and you did nothing about it” your tears betrayed you, rolling through your pale face, Eddie could see how big the fleek was on your poor heart.

The muffled sound of the party was the only thing that echoed inside that room, that and the heavy breathing of the man who stared at you, as if he had discovered some absurd secret.

“I went after you, I screamed your name several times through those damn corridors…I know you heard me” you could feel the sad tone behind the guy's bad boy pose.

He moved closer to you, entering your space, his contorted face reflected how painful the memory was. “and I found you, oh boy i found you! In the arms of MY best friend” he returned to the opposite side of the room and continued in silence, lighting his cigarette, the orange light from the lighter flame making Eddie's teary eyes shine in the darkness of the pool room.

“Eddie…what are you talking about?” You said with your voice still shaking, not paying much attention to what was said but to your best friend's sad eyes, “YOU kissed another girl in front of me, after we had sex! you asshole.”

Eddie stood up once again this time angrily shouting back at you “I DIDN’T FUCKING KISS HER”.

His hands caged you against the wall, against his body. He looked straight into your face, with his breathing still labored he whispered “and we didn't have sex”.

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear, the tension could be cut with a knife. His eyes traveled between your eyes and your lips, waiting for a minute of weakness, any sign from you so he could have you the way he'd been wanting since the night you ran away from his dorm.

Your hands shyly touched Eddie's face, bringing the boy's attention to stillness. You held his face firmly and still so unsure “I'm sorry Eds” you said running your fingers over the welts that marked his cheek.

Eddie pressed your bodies closer and held your hand against his cheek, taking advantage of the gap to connect your lips. The kiss started lightly, Eddie enjoyed every crumb you gave him, his tongue explored your mouth hungrily, trying to feel all your flavor, his thin fingers pressed the flesh of your waist, roaming freely over your abdomen, making your legs go limp “Eddie…” you sighed.

"what?" He said, moving his lips down your neck, following the same path that Steve had taken earlier, leaving bigger marks on your skin. He wanted everyone to know that you were his and no one else’s.

He kissed your shoulder as he ran his hand up your thigh, past the hem of your skirt.

Noticing the lack of response, it's clear that teasing you was the boy's only option. “Did the cat get your tongue, sweetie?” His hands slowly felt your hips at the same time he pushed your legs apart with his knee and forced his leg between yours. He could feel how hot your pussy was from the heat that passed through his thigh “you seemed pretty brave when you were rubbing your ass against Stevie” he pressed his knee against your most sensitive part, gently brushing against your clit.

“I already told you Eddie, Steve and I are just friends” you said again, trying your best not to straddle your best friend’s thigh.

The boy finished taking off your shirt, exploring your breasts as he had done several other times. Eddie pinched and pulled your nipples, making the man feel you wet through your panties. He laughed in a mocking tone “look at you, you barely got off my best friend and you’re already here, all wet for me” his hands forced your movements, making you slowly ride his thigh “I saw your thighs pressing together, you know?” he said, increasing the intensity of the pace at which he guided you.

“Do you like being treated like a slut?” Eddie said taking you off his lap, in one movement he turned you around, face pressed against the old window covered in graffiti, it was too blurry to see you inside but depending on the angle you could see the people outside. “Did you like the feel of Steve’s dick rubbing against your ass?” he said as he pressed his own erection against you, making sure you felt every inch of him against the soft skin of your ass. “I know you liked it baby, there’s no need to be embarrassed” he patronizes you more and more.

With the panties around your ankle, Eddie adjusted your hips the way he wanted, brushing your entire pussy with the pink head of his cock.

"Are you sure?" he asked, without any malice or malice tone, you were already drunk on cock, just nodding your consent. “Words darling, use your words” “please Eddie, I need you” his voice came out more shrill than you wanted, showing his desperation.

In just one thrust, Eddie's entire cock slowly entered your tight pussy, “fuck…so thick” you moaned, not knowing if it was pain or pleasure, receiving sweet prayers from the man who filled you “shh…I know darling, It will soon be so delicious, I promise you” or “good girl, taking it all”, his words made you increasingly wet, making his back and forth movements easier.

“Fuck Eddie, more...I need more, please” you leaned against the window frame, managing to see Steve's confused features through the graffiti window, as he looked for you around the pool, not going unnoticed by Eddie either.

The man pushed into you harder and harder, your hands holding tight on the old wood making it shake. “Hmm… fucking tight, darling” he continued to fuck you, with one hand on your waist holding you in the position he needed and the other tangled in your hair, forcing you to look out the window, to look Steve.

"Eddie please" you begged, he could feel the adrenaline making his voice lower a few tones, every time Steve's eyes passed over you, Eddie could feel your pussy throb and squeeze his dick. “Make me cum Eds, please” you almost cried.

The large hand that held your head against the window ran down your entire body to where you needed it most. He fucked your pussy, changing the angle to hit your sweet spot while slowly massaging your citrices circularly, eliciting from you the most maddening moans Eddie had ever heard... "oh... Eddie I'm going to cum, fuck I'm going to cum " "fuck that pussy, please eddie" "Fill me, I want to feel you filling me Eddie", and Steve.

With his gaze fixed on his best friend, Eddie filled your pussy with his cum, not stopping pumping until the last drop of cum entered you. He helped you straighten up, bringing your back against his covered chest.

He kissed his neck while whispering how hot you were and how you were his and only his, leaving your breasts exposed against the window. His malicious smile began to make you suspicious of the boy's true intentions.

After a few minutes of recovering, you decided to get dressed again. Her panties on one side, her t-shirt rolled up on the floor and her skirt hanging from the window.

Your fingers pulled at the fabric of your skirt, revealing a large hole in the window where Steve stared at you and Eddie, while squeezing his erection through his pants. The boy's pink cheeks didn't bring you clarity, was that shame or lust?

Eddie’s hands went around you in a hug, resting his head on your shoulder “I told you he had a crush on you,” he kissed your cheek before walking away, opening the little door to the pool house “oh! Yeah and I'm sorry, I was really jealous." leaving you high and dry watching him go after his friend.

Taglist ~ dumblittlebunbun pettydonuts kerst666 emma77645 darknesseddiem tlclick73 the-fairy-anon mygirlchaos d4rk4ng3l86 corygshitilike madi-is-kinda-lame munsongirl97 alone-but-never themusingofagothicsoul foreveranexpatsposts anaibis laricebabe she-collects-smut chronicles-of-koystee

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #college!eddie #eddie au #90s!Eddie #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson stranger things

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paradiseismine · 1 year ago

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Backstage - Finn Wolfhard x reader

Love note from Nina: I’ve been meaning to write this one since I’ve seen Finn’s pictures from Atlanta/Birmingham; but couldn’t find the words until now.

Pairing: Finn Wolfhard x f!reader

Summary: Finn invites you backstage after a concert with his band, The Aubreys.

Warnings: so much smut, heaven help me.

It was a warm Saturday night and your girl friends nearly dragged you out of your shared apartment in New York. They had tickets for some indie band’s concert and wanted you to tag along. After some protesting, you finally gave in.

A quick subway ride later, you got to a small theater where the concert was about to start. It wasn’t sold out (“The Aubreys” was still an indie band, after all), but there were plenty of people in there. One of your friends was able to get all three of you to the very front of the stage, the closest you could possibly be to the band.

As the concert began, you suddenly detested that night a lot less - a tall black haired boy singing the first song really got your attention. You locked eyes with him for a moment, and that was all it took.

- Do you know that boy’s name? - you nearly screamed into your friend’s ear.

- Which one?

You were so mesmerized, you barely noticed there were more than one person up there.

- The black haired one - you rolled your eyes, as if it was obvious. - The one with the guitar.

- Oh - she said, rolling her eyes too. He was SO your type, she should’ve known. - That’s Finn Wolfhard. You know, Mike from Stranger Things?

- Really? - your eyes went wide.

You had seen Stranger Things before, and while it was definitely a good show, you surely hadn’t paid enough attention to that beauty right in front of you.

The first song was over and you kept your eyes glued on him. Finn took a few steps forward, crouched and read the setlist (a piece of paper taped to the stage floor), dipping his lips in a small glass bottle. You assumed it was some sort of beer that he was drinking. He took a sip and his eyes met yours a few seconds later. The smile he gave you simply melted your heart. You smiled back and mouthed “great show”, to which he simply mouthed back “thank you”.

You spent the rest of the concert vibing to the songs, swaying your body slowly from side to side and singing along the choruses and other small phrases you were able to pick up from. Finn had his eyes glued on yours. It was like he was singing to you specifically; everybody else just happened to be there.

As the concert was coming to an end, you felt someone touch your shoulder from behind.

- Excuse me, miss - you turned around and saw one of the security guards of the venue.

- Yes? - your eyebrows furrowed, as you were utterly confused as to who that man was and what could he possibly want. He came closer and nearly whispered in your ear, which was even weirder.

- Mr. Wolfhard would like to know if you can come backstage. They’re about to finish the show - he said, in a serious tone.

You blinked rapidly a few times. Like wait, what?

- I, um… Sure - you were able to respond. - What do I do?

- Come with me - he said, gesturing for you to follow him.

You followed the guard through a small passage that led backstage, where the dressing rooms were. He opened a door whose sign said “The Aubreys” in bold red lettering.

- Mr. Wolfhard will be with you in a minute, miss. Please wait inside and make yourself comfortable.

- Ok, thank you sir - you responded, entering the room as the guard nodded and shut the door shortly after.

Ok, this was definitely something. Your friends saw you leaving with the guard, but you had no time to explain what happened. You quickly texted “lol mr. wolfhard invited me backstage, ttyl” in your group chat, just so they wouldn’t be worried.

Not long after that, the door opened again.

- Dude, I’m so tired, I could lie on the floor and sleep right now - a shorter, blond-haired boy said, his eyes seeming droopy behind his glasses.

After finishing the sentence, he noticed you.

- Whoa there - he looked at Finn.

- That’s the girl I told you about - Finn said, pointing towards you with his chin.

- Oh - the other boy responded, his eyes widening. - I’ll just grab my stuff and go to the car, ok? I’ll have the driver take me home then you text him when you want him to come back and pick you up.

- Deal - Finn patted the boy on his back. - Get some rest, bud.

The blond boy grabbed his backpack, some other stuff and left, waving you two goodbye. You were a bit awkward there for a moment.

- Sorry about Malcolm - Finn chuckled after his friend shut the door. - He insisted on playing tonight, even though he's a bit sick, so…

- It's ok - you smiled. - It was a great show.

- Aw, really? - he smiled back, happily.

- Totally… I didn’t know you had a band, but I loved it. Indie rock is so up my alley, I’m surprised I hadn’t heard about you guys before.

- I didn’t know such a pretty girl would come see me, I’m surprised I still caught your eye - he tilted his head to the side slightly, playful. - I would’ve dressed nicer if I knew you’d come, you know?

- That does sound a lot like flirting, Mr. Wolfhard… - you chuckled, jokingly slapping his arm.

- Yeah? - he leaned in closer, a naughty little smirk on his face. - That’s good then.

There was something about the way he talked, the way he looked at you, something about his hands or his toned arms, maybe… Everything made you feel so hot, so beautiful, so desired. You couldn’t help but bite your lip.

- So what’s your name, pretty girl? - he grabbed your chin, smiling.

- It’s y/n - you chuckled. - What do I call you? Finn? Finnie?

- Call me what you want - he leaned in even closer. - I intend to call you “mine”, if that’s ok with you.

He was so cocky, his posture was irresistible.

- I’ll just call you “mine” too, then - you reached for his neck, bringing his lips down to the level of your own.

The kiss was slow, at first. His tongue soon asked for entrance and danced with yours, as his hands groped your waist possessively. You grabbed the hair at his nape urgently, pulling his face impossibly closer to yours, savoring his lips, his scent, taking him in as much as you could. Finn Wolfhard was such a good kisser, it was nearly a crime.

His hands then reached down to grope your ass, but he seemed to want a bit more of a direct contact.

- That leather skirt of yours is begging to be tossed to the floor, isn’t it? Poor thing… - he said, reaching for the zipper on your lower back. - Do you mind if I put it out of its misery?

- Do it - your voice was breathy with desire. - But I could say the same about your t-shirt… It also would appreciate the floor very much right now.

He unzipped your skirt, and it soon fell to the floor. You reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and off of his body, both garments now keeping each other company on a nearby carpet.

His pale skin was soft to the touch, his chest now taken by your wandering hands. He alternated between fondling your ass and harshly groping it, making you moan into his mouth.

After he satisfied the urgent need to grope you, Finn put his arms under your butt to lift you up and off the floor, carefully depositing your body into a dressing table.

- Is this okay? - he asked, his voice raspy and sensual. - Is my pretty girl comfortable?

- Sure - you nearly moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring his body closer.

He leaned in for another round of heated kisses, and your hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it quickly and immediately unzipping his pants.

- Those pants gotta go, don’t they? - you murmured, enraptured by his touch. - May I? - you inquired, lingering your gaze at his throbbing erection underneath his opened dark jeans.

- You call the shots, babe - he answered, his lips swollen from making out with you. Finn immediately discarded his pants and shoes, taking the time to take off your boots as well.

Soon, his pants were off and so was your shirt: your breasts were now getting covered in open mouth kisses, Finn seemed to be loving them, burying his face in between them. One of his hands went around your back, and his eyes shot up at yours for permission. You nodded lightly, your lips parted, hungry for some more of his touch. He unhooked your bra in a single movement, discarding it quickly.

With both hands, he kneaded your breasts eagerly, suckling into your nipples alternately. You felt like a feast in his hands.

You were both stripped down to your underwear, and Finn didn’t want to waste any time.

- Can these come off too? - he held the sides of your panties, pouting his luscious red lips.

- Only if these come off as well - you ran the sides of your feet at the sides of his boxers.

- Deal - he smirked, gliding the thin fabric of your panties down your smooth legs.

He seemed mesmerized by the sight of your glistening wet pussy. His lips quivering, his mouth nearly agape, his brows furrowed in what could only be described as pure lust. Finn kneeled in front of you, burying his face in between your legs without any further ado.

You let out a high pitched moan at the first flick of his tongue, surprised and pleased. He moaned at the taste of your pussy, making your slit vibrate deliciously in between his lips. You hissed as he kept licking your clit, his tongue circling you with the perfect pressure, the perfect speed… He was simply perfect. An index finger soon entered your drenched hole, pumping in and out of you as his tongue continued its irresistible work. As you came undone, your muscles involuntarily clenched around his finger, causing him to moan even more as he licked you through your high.

- You taste so good - he licked his lips as he stood back up, his finger still pumping in and out of you. - I bet you feel even better.

He took off his finger and held his length up to your soaking wet pussy.

- Can I?

- Yeah - you could manage to moan.

He slowly inserted himself into your tight hole, whimpering and breathing heavily at the feeling. You were even better than he had imagined. You pulled his hips closer, your eyes searching for his, trying to get him to pick up the pace. He noticed what you did, and couldn’t help but oblige.

Finn’s hair gently swayed around his neck as he thrusted, perfect, nearly in slow motion. Damn, that boy had *such* rockstar energy. You kept looking at him, eyes low with lust and pleasure from his movements, but also delighted by his beauty.

His hands grabbed your thighs possessively, harshly, trying to claim them as his. He had such beautiful hands, such a tight grip, ugh… You’d let him do whatever he wanted to do with you at that point.

- You feel so good - you moaned, squeezing him with your cunt.

- Ah, don’t squeeze me like that, baby girl - he gently grabbed your neck. - I can’t cum inside you…

- You could, if you wanted to - you teased, squeezing him again.

- You’re so naughty, princess, what should i do to you? - he removed himself from your pussy, afraid he’d cum too soon.

- Whatever you’d like, babe - you looked at him with a raw, lewd gaze.

Finn’s cock twitched in desire.

- You know, that low cut shirt you were wearing gave me some ideas…

- Oh, yeah?

- Uh-huh - he moistened his lips as his hands reached out for your naked breasts. - Can I put my cock in between them? That’d be so hot…

He squeezed them greedily, lustful.

- Sure, babe - you answered, smirking naughtily, holding yourself in an inviting way.

Finn guided his length into the valley between your breasts, and you pushed them one against the other to accommodate him. He was slick with your fluids already, so it was much easier to glide himself in that tightness you created with your hands.

His size allowed you to get the tip of his cock in between your lips, gently sucking it as he thrusted in between your boobs. His breathing was audible now, he’d even let out a few moans here and there.

You had never felt hotter in your entire life. You felt profane, naughty, lewd, everything. And you loved it.

- Damn, babe - he moaned, breathless. - You’re impossibly hot, can I cum in your mouth already?

You lightly nodded, sticking out your tongue so his tip would leak right in the middle of it. A few moans later, Finn released himself into your mouth, covering your tongue in thick, hot ropes of his cum.

You gently licked his tip clean before swallowing his seed. He was still trying to catch his breath, and the sight of you doing that certainly didn’t help.

- I swear you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever met - he panted.

- It was my pleasure, darling. - you chuckled softly.

Finn helped you get dressed and put his own clothes back on, chatting about the concert and asking some more about your musical taste. It turns out, you both loved The Beatles and wish you had a Time Machine to chill in the 1960’s together.

- Thank you for the evening, y/n - he smiled. - I had a great time.

- So did I - you smiled back at him.

- I’ll get my driver to drop you off at your place, is that ok? - he ran his fingers through your hair, his other hand busy with his phone.

- Sure - you nodded. - That’s very kind.

- No problem - he seemed to open a different tab on his phone. - Now, can I have your number?

He handed you the phone, his eyes bright and kind. You typed in your number carefully, afraid you’d mess up. You handed him back the phone, happy.

Soon, his driver arrived and he kissed you goodbye before you left the venue, just to avoid any remaining paparazzi. You walked to the car, greeted the driver and kept quiet the whole way home, reminiscing what happened. Wow.

Your heart was nearly thumping out of your chest when you finally got home and lied down on your bed after that amazing night. And as you thought it couldn’t get any better, your phone lit up.

New message - unknown number

Hi y/n, it’s Finn. did u get home safe? when can I see u again?

#finn wolfhard smut #finn wolfhard x reader #imagine #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler #miles fairchild #smut #trevor spengler #trevor spengler x reader #finn headcanons #finn wolfhard #rockstar girlfriend #and yes i’ve just tagged this rockstar girlfriend cause finn is #he is a rockstar

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bleedingcoffee42 · 4 months ago

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Updates on Lewis Nixon's personal information.

Irene Nixon died Feb 2, 1969 in Princeton, NJ. (Source: New Jersey Death Index and Death Index Code)

Lewis Nixon and Grace Umezawa got married in Nevada March 19, 1969. (Source Clark County, Nevada)

Lewis Nixon sold his house in Princeton, with Irene Nixon Estate on deed, May 8, 1969. (Scource: Mercer Co. New Jersey)

(And please do not repost to reddit or other sites, if I wanted the research there I'd put it there myself. This is preliminary research and in a few weeks I will have more to add.)

I honestly have not looked into this until this Stanhope and friends fiasco, but needed an idea when Nix got involved date wise. I've read the Hester Blue Boar update post a handful of times without it making an impact that Irene died in the 60's until the last time I read it. And I remembered I pulled that Princeton house deed info when looking for Nixon houses and noted the 'Estate' beside Irene's name, but tossed it in a folder for later.

Speculation ahead-----

After a year of stalking/researching this man and his family, I got a feel for him. Lewis Nixon III makes things happen. He doesn't have time for a wedding when he wants to get married. He's gone to the courthouse in NYC twice. Gotten divorced in Vegas once. New Jersey and California are not fast enough for him. So I looked in NYC first, then Las Vegas records and found him.

Next, Irene. Clearly from the customs paperwork we have Grace and Lew have been together for a while. He would not wait if he was divorced, he would have married her already. So, Irene. Considering the fast marriage, I felt pretty good he waited until Irene passed to get remarried and started manually going through the NJ Death Indexes in starting with the year he got remarried, and there she was.

Reference again his divorce from Kathy as he scratched out 'incompatible' and wrote in 'drunkeness' which goes in her favor since she is divorcing him. That legally covers Michael a little more as it puts Lew at fault for the marriage dissolution. (Even if Kathy's next husband was waiting over the state line) Which could have helped when he was suing Stanhope's estate for Michael's share.

My point?

Lewis Nixon is loyal, do not confuse that with faithful. He is loyal to those who have been good to him (Dick and Hester) and Irene was good to him. She was there for him during the war, through the death of his parents, was there when his sister killed herself. There when Dick left for Korea and more permanently- Pennsylvania. I feel he waited because he didn't want to hurt her, or her family who he has been apart of since WW2 and taken her away from; I feel she was probably sick and they knew it. He waits until she dies and then married Grace? I feel this one month window is a statement that he didn't divorce her. (again, please give me some time for the docs to work through this theory. But there is no waiting period on marriage in Nevada -even back then.) Once again, a demonstration of loyalty in my eyes.

We the have the case of Lew and Grace and her name as "Nixon" on the customs card in 1962. I don't know how to explain it. I do know that passengers wrote their own address on there as I recognize Lew's chaotic handwriting anywhere. Did they fill out their own forms? I imagine the customs folks wrote it off passports but I can't answer this. If I cycle through the entire planeload the handwriting changes. Could this have been a cover for going to the same address? It's 1962, people were being arrested for cohabitating twenty years earlier, I have no idea what the environment was at the time. The free and hippie sixties were the later half of the decade, early 60s are the back end of the McCarthy era and Jello Abominations. Could it be two people in love testing the waters, maybe filling out each other's cards? (examples below for handwriting comparison.) Feels like it. But the official records point to them being married in 1969 and that's all I got.

I realize this means Dick Winters was wrong about the date, and believe me, he's haunting my phone over saying that. I am trying to track sources for the 1956 marriage and most seem to be Dick's book. Even My Heritage had the date, but looking into it the information came from AI scraping of wikipedia. Wikipedia in turn -Winters & Kingseed. However I do feel he was right about Nix being in love with Grace and never having known that feeling before. Marriage was a civil union until her, then he married the love of his life. She was also close to 50 at the time and sure as hell didn't need a man as she was one hell of a lady, so she was in love with him and the fact he was married didn't matter.

Documents under the cut

#lewis nixon #grace nixon #band of brothers

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sadlynotthevoid · 1 year ago

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If I had a nickel for everytime I dreamed that Lily was kidnapped and Og!Cale ran looking out for her, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice.

In the first one, Lily got kidnapped in the Capital and og!Cale instantly started running around, doing detective work but also really in panic. At some point he figured out who could have a hint on Lily's kidnapper, but the person in question was in the castle dungeons. So he went and straight entered in a room where Alberu was having a meeting with other nobles, not caring at all who was there, and asked him to sign a permission.

Og!Cale: *opens the door* Your Highness, sign this! *Slams form on the table*

Alberu, who wasn't expecting a random noble to crash his office: ...

The nobles: *shoked in victorian era* ...

Alberu: how did you got here?

Og!Cale: I flew through the third floor entry. It has my mom's name on it. More important, I'm in a hurry. So could you sign it already?

Alberu, confused as fuck because 'wdym by third floor entry? That's just a window': *reads the paper* permission to visit the dungeons? Why do—

Og!Cale, too worried to even keep his trash act and also practically a mind reader (not really): My sister was kidnapped and that guy may know where she could be. As I said, I'm in a hurry.

Alberu: That's terrible. *About to sign it* Is there any other way I can help?

Random noble: Excuse me?! Your Highness, this is not according to the protocol. I had to wait for months after my solicitude was sent to have this meeting. Why does he get a special treatment?!

Og!Cale, without paying an eye: Aren't you that Viscount that keeps wasting big sums on gifts for a mistress? *To Alberu* I guess he's asking money "for his territory". I bet he spent all his budget and is trying to hide it from his wife.

The noble: *pales* That— you— Your Highness, I can explain *faints*

Alberu: *sighs* I'll have someone investigate it. *Signs the form* Is there anything else I need to know?

Og!Cale, already exiting the room with the permission at hand: *tilts head* I've heard that people had been dissapearing in the Southwest region. *Narrows eyes* Huh. It's near the Gyerre territory now that I think about it.

Og!Cale: Anyways, goodbye. *Leaves*

Alberu, absentmindedly: So that's what father meant when he said redheads are "a crazy force of nature that could destroy a little country without force".

Antonio, who happened to be in the meeting: *silently having an existential crisis*

It turned out that the culprit was Og!Cale's past teacher (yes, that guy) who was working with traffickers. He wanted to see whether Og!Cale would resolve his "little game" or he would "lose" (have Lily sold before someone finds them). He also kinda hates her because "he lost his student by her fault" (no, it wasn't her fault. He's just crazy).

Og!Cale found out where Lily was being held and he, along with a pair of knights, went for her. All of them had a fun time beating the creepy bastard.

Then Og!Cale walked to their house carrying Lily on his arms.

In the second one, a monster-like creature broke into Lily's room, took her and flew away. Og!Cale was sitting on his bedroom's window and saw his little sister being taken away by a blurr of mass. He jumped out of the window to follow, of course. Then the knights saw a thing flying over their heads and the young master speedruning after it.

Og!Cale: Come back here!

Hillsman: Young master Cale?!

Og!Cale: What are you doing?! Stop that thing! It has Lily!

Knights: Ah! *Start chasing the thing too*

I don't know what happened next because I woke up.

#original cale henituse #og cale henituse #og!cale henituse #og cale #lily henituse #alberu crossman #alver crossman #btw #you can assume alberu ended up pining for og!cale in the first one #they end up together #og albecale

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e-dubbc11 · 28 days ago

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Okay here is my ask...can you do one where Rumlow becomes a dad? Like from him finding out to baby looking at him for the first time? I'm curious how he would handle FMC having morning sickness, and all the craziness during pregnancy, and especially how he would handle her giving birth (maybe she wants to do it naturally). Thanks new friend!!

I don’t know why I had never written Rumlow as a dad before but I guess I was just waiting for the right ask and I’m SO happy you did because this was a lot of fun to write and I really hope you like it, my lovely friend♥️😘

An Unexpected Surprise

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy sex (18+ please or else I’m telling on you), swear words, angst, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 5K-ish

Summary: You and your fiancé are met with, well, an unexpected surprise. Navigating pregnancy was going to be tough but it might actually be tougher for Brock

A/N: It was a while ago but I tried to draw from my own experience of being pregnant for this and bouncing ideas off of my new friend was so fun and she actually gave me an idea for another Rumlow fic which I can’t wait to start. Thank you again!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. You were careful, painstakingly careful.

You always thought of yourself as being prepared for anything and everything which is why this was a complete surprise.

But there it was, right in front of your eyes and clear as day.

Two defined dark blue lines explained why you had been feeling nauseous, why you suddenly had an aversion to chicken, and why your period was late…very, very late.

You were pregnant.

Gazing down at your engagement ring, you were also nervous about what your love was going to say about it. Brock wasn’t exactly the sweet, teddy bear type. Well, he was that way with you but he was also the type to react poorly to a situation and then apologize later for it.

How were you going to tell him? Neither of you was entirely sold on the idea of having kids, but especially having kids right away. His work at SHIELD was important to him and it wasn’t exactly danger free. Brock’s work took him on missions all over the world, it sometimes put him in threatening situations and you never wanted to tell him that he had to give all that up. Not coming home to you would be one thing; it would be difficult to get through but you knew what you signed up for when you said yes but having to tell a child that their daddy isn’t coming home is different and would be even harder.

What were you going to do?

**********

After confirming your pregnancy at the doctor’s office, you finally worked up the courage to tell Brock that he was going to be a father. You created scenarios in your head, tried to figure out how you were going to talk to him if he got angry, upset, or even just completely shut himself off because he was in shock.

He wanted to go out to dinner. Brock felt guilty for spending so much time away from home lately so he wanted to try and make it up to you and after dodging questions like “What? You don’t want anything to drink?” and “I thought you loved the way they make the lemon chicken here?” It was time to tell him.

But when you arrived home, Brock had other ideas. The two of you barely walked through the door before he pulled the sweater over your head, while you reached for the button on his jeans, and devouring each other like you haven’t seen each other in months.

Tangled in each other’s limbs, his lips gently pressed against the soft skin of your shoulder as his calloused hands traveled up your thigh and came to rest on your hip. Your fingers tangled in his wild dark hair while the stubble on his chin delicately scratched your cheek and he purred in your ear.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been workin’ so much lately, doll. Forgive me?” He asked. The sexy rasp in his voice gently vibrated in your ear.

“Well when you ask so nicely, how could I not?” You said with a sly smile. “You’re so soft for me, Rumlow.”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to broadcast it. No one needs to know that.” He answered back.

You could feel heat rush across your chest and you could hear your heart beating rapidly inside your ears, knowing that what you were about to say was going to change your relationship with Brock either for the better or not so much.

“I’m pregnant, Brock.” You blurted out.

“That’s not funny, sweetheart.” Replied Brock.

Biting down on your lower lip, your hands started to shake.

“I’m not joking, baby. I’ve been feeling nauseous, I missed my period, so I finally took a test and had it confirmed at the doctor’s a couple of days ago. I’m pregnant.” You said nervously.

All of the color drained from Brock’s face as he sat speechless, staring at you with his whiskey colored eyes, and working out in his head what you had just told him.

“Say something please, Brock. I know we didn’t exactly plan for this–” You had started to say before he interrupted you.

“Plan for this? We didn’t plan for this at all, doll! I thought you were on birth control?!” He asked.

“Well obviously it’s not always a sure thing, Brock! Maybe I missed a couple!” You said, visibly upset.

Quickly, he got out of bed, put his clothes on and looked at you one more time before heading for the door.

His motorcycle roared to life and you heard him drive down the street before the sounds faded and you were left alone, wondering when or if he was coming back.

**********

The next morning, as you sat at the kitchen island, sipping your coffee, you heard the bike pull into the driveway. The blood in your veins began to boil and you could feel your cheeks burning with anger. Your jaw tightened while waiting for Brock to come inside; you couldn’t wait to give him hell for just getting up and leaving like he did.

You heard his keys unlock the door and as you turned to face the door, you folded your arms protectively across your chest. Slowly, the doorknob turned and he stepped inside with a very pathetic look on his face like a puppy that just chewed your favorite shoes.

“Where the hell have you been?!! I haven’t had time to be worried about you because I’ve been busy being pissed off and that’s putting it nicely, Brock!!” You shouted.

“I’m sorry, doll. I shouldn’t have—“ Brock started to say before you cut him off.

“Shouldn’t have what? Left me in the middle of the night? For making me feel like a piece of trash because you left right after you fucked me? I’m going to be your wife, Rumlow! You can’t just leave like that!” You continued.

“I know! And I’m sorry, sweetheart! I don’t know what the etiquette is for when the woman you love unexpectedly tells you that she’s pregnant.” He replied.

You retorted with, “Is it ever fully expected, Brock? You think I wasn’t floored when I saw the results of that pregnancy test, telling me that I’m gonna be a mom? I felt alone and scared! And even more so when you left without a word after I FINALLY worked up the courage to tell you. Where did you even go, anyway?”

Brock tossed his keys on the counter, walked over to the cabinet to get a cup and poured himself some coffee.

“I drove around for awhile, ended up on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and found myself just staring out at the reflecting pool. I know I shouldn’t have left like that but you know I react first and think later. It’s not my best trait and I’m so sorry.” Said Brock, sheepishly.

He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a small stuffed bunny that he probably bought at the drugstore. Brock handed it to you. It felt so soft as you let the fabric glide through your fingers and your lips curled into a slight smile.

Tears stung the back of your eyes as you walked over to him and snaked your arms around his neck. Brock set his cup down on the counter so he could pull your body flush to his and he locked his hands around your waist. The gaze of his amber colored eyes locked onto yours before he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Brock let out a gentle exhale that warmed your chilled skin and he softly pressed his lips to your collarbone before saying again, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, Brock.” You replied. “You still gonna love me, when you can’t reach me because my belly is in the way?”

“Of course, doll.” He said.

You chuckled a little.

“That is the correct answer, Mr Rumlow.” You said.

His expression softened and became a little more serious before saying, “Well, there is something we need to change right away.”

Confused, you replied, “What’s that, baby?”

“We need to change your last name.” Said Brock.

The corners of your mouth curled into a wide smile as your lips collided with his. You were engaged but had dragged your feet at setting a wedding date yet so even though this isn’t exactly the way you wanted it to happen, you were very happy about it.

“What did you have in mind, handsome?” You asked.

A sly smile stretched across Brock’s lips as he replied, “I have an idea.”

**********

Brock wasn’t exactly a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants type of guy so when he proposed the two of you elope, you were very surprised but happy at the same time. It would be one less thing to worry about before the baby comes.

After a wedding and short honeymoon in the Bahamas, it was time to prepare for Baby Rumlow’s arrival which wasn’t easy but it was especially tough for Brock.

Between the doctor’s appointments, work, trying to find time to work on the nursery, and fluctuating hormones, the two of you were exhausted.

Brock had been burning the candle at both ends, going on more missions in the early parts of your pregnancy so he could be home more for the later months in case you needed anything.

But now you have reached that stage in your pregnancy where you were horny all…the…time.

“You sure you’re ok, doll?” He asked.

“I’m not gonna break, Rumlow.” You said with a smirk.

Your little belly separated the two of you as you straddled him on the couch. He was surprised you practically tackled him when he walked through the door. Between the morning sickness and the exhaustion, there wasn’t a lot of intimacy in those first three months but that fourth month hit and you were ready to make up for lost time.

After you removed his black t-shirt, your kisses were aggressive, all tongue and teeth, as you gently tugged on his wild dark brown hair and his fingers gently danced up and down your spine. You reached for the button on his jeans as his thick fingers traveled up your thigh, underneath your skirt and touched the wet spot on your panties. Brock kicked off his pants and helped you slip out of your long skirt as you firmly planted your knees on either side of his hips once again.

“You don’t wanna go to the bedroom, sweetheart?” He asked.

The raspy tone to his voice has always been such a turn on for you. The purr in your ear made you extremely wet and there was no way you were going to pause this to go to the bedroom. You wanted him now and let him know it by stroking him, feeling him get harder by the second, while he let out a strangled moan and you shook your head “no.”

Brock pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger before insistently pressing his lips to yours. His days-old stubble gently scratched against your chin as he parted your lips with his tongue and his fingers dipped below the line of your panties but not before he lightly cradled your little bump. A quiet whimper fell from your lips as he parted your folds with one finger, teasing you, circling your clit, and hitting that special spot.

“You’re dripping down my hand, baby. You need this too, don’t you.” He growled.

He curled his talented fingers inside, making you lightheaded as your walls began to tighten around him. Brock’s other hand fit around your neck like a choker as your eyes fluttered closed; he knew you were close as you mewled his name.

“You’re too quiet, doll. Come for me, y/n, let me hear you, then I’ll give you what you really want.” He said in a grating whisper.

His words went straight to your core and your release hit you hard and fast, calling out his name loudly and causing your voice to break. Leaning down, you grazed your teeth along his jawline as his lips curled into a sly grin.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl.” He praised you.

Still coming down from your high, Brock managed to remove his boxer briefs and your panties before lining himself up and sliding into you with ease, smiling as he heard your breath hitch and captured your lips again in a forceful kiss; he let out a low growl as you started to roll your hips and pulling him in close so you could move in tandem. With quick snaps of his hips underneath you, your second orgasm started to stir and your thighs stiffened with every shallow thrust causing you to clench around him.

You were so close to just falling apart, strangled moans and other sinful noises continued to fall from your lips which made him work harder to push you over the edge and chase his own release.

“Brock!” You cried out.

With his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, he spilled into you as you crumpled on top of him, your chests heaving, trying to catch your breath. Brock started to kiss the sculpted hollow of your throat when he felt the tiniest of flutters in your belly, pressed against his.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is that?” He asked in a shocked tone.

“She’s kicking, Brock.” You said then quickly clamped your hands over your mouth.

At your last ultrasound, the tech asked if you wanted to know the baby’s sex and you both decided you wanted to be surprised, well, actually YOU decided. Brock wanted to know because then he could have a little more control and know what to expect but he was overruled. So instead, they put the sex of the baby in an envelope in case you changed your mind.

“SHE?! You little sneak! You looked at the ultrasound anyway after you gave me shit for wanting to know what we were having!” Said Brock with a wide smile.

Biting down on your lower lip, you tried to stop yourself from smiling but you failed miserably.

“Ok, I know I said I wanted to be surprised but I lied. Or rather, I changed my mind.” You replied. “You mad?”

Brock gently placed his hand against your growing belly as the flutters continued. His smile was genuine and he really looked happy.

“Nah, I ain’t mad, sweetheart.” He said with a wink.

His stubble tickled your lips as you kissed him on the cheek and said, “Oh yay, now we can pick out all things pink!”

He quickly replied with a hard eye roll and said, “Can we go easy on the pink please, y/n?”

“How ‘bout pink and black?” You asked.

Brock held his hand out in between the two of you and said, “Deal.”

**********

Baby girl Rumlow was getting bigger by the day and so was your stomach. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to sit up after sleeping, to see your feet, and even just to get comfortable.

“So when do you stop going to work?” Brock asked one evening after your shower.

You narrowed your eyes at him and replied in a confused tone, “What do you mean, baby?”

“I mean, you’re gettin’ pretty big, doll. You gotta be thinkin’ about stopping working until after the baby, right?” He replied.

Oh, he’s so lucky he’s handsome.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘BIG?’” You asked through clenched teeth.

He interrupted you, “Ok now, I didn’t mean it that way, sweetheart. You know that. I was only thinkin’ of YOU. I know how tough it’s been lately for you to get comfortable, to walk around, shit like that.”

Without warning, tears welled up in your eyes and before you could try and stop yourself, they were streaming down your face. It had been happening more as it was getting closer to your due date and everything was hitting you all at once. You were tired, hormonal, and absolutely terrified of being a mom but everyone told you it was all normal, although it didn’t make it any easier to try and control.

“Aside from moments like these—“ You started to say, pointing to the tears in your eyes, “I feel fine, Brock. The doctor said that as long as I don’t have any issues or the baby isn’t in distress, I’m fine to work until I’m due.”

“Well, what if I don’t want you workin’?” Said Brock.

“Baby, I’m not on my feet all the time unless I want or need to be. I’m fine.” You said, pouring your tea.

You baby girl started to move around. She was very active in the evening hours and loved to stretch out, jabbing you in the side with her feet and hands. It wasn’t just a quick kick to the ribs and she was done…NOPE! Her stretches caused you to wince and you tried to move her feet to a different spot that wasn’t so painful.

“Oof…” You said, pressing on your belly.

Brock reached out to gently touch your stomach.

“What? What is it? Is it time?!” He asked nervously.

You smiled and chuckled a little at Brock’s concern for you. It was really sweet.

Shaking your head, you replied, “No, no, baby. I’m fine—here…” You said, grabbing his hand and placing it on the side of your bump. “You feel that? She’s stretching. That’s her heel you’re feeling.”

Brock Rumlow was a man of few words and he had even less to say while he was feeling his baby move around. His lips curled into a wide smile as his strong hands followed her hands and feet around your bump.

“That’s…wow. That’s really somethin’, doll.”

You were getting close to your due date and felt enormous but everything was in order, the nursery was done, and you couldn’t wait to meet her. Now all you had to do was settle on a name which was a process because every name you liked, Brock would veto and every name he suggested, you didn’t like.

“She still needs a name, baby.” You said.

Brock inched closer, until you were sharing the same air and you could see his facial features up close. The laugh lines around his whiskey colored eyes were prominent but they made him so ruggedly handsome and hard to resist when he was this close to you.

He bypassed your lips and leaned down to kiss the sweet spot on your neck that you loved so much, the gentle scratches of his beard tickled your throat and neck as he peppered kisses up and down the side of your neck which made you giggle.

He replied, “I’m sure we’ll figure it out. We still have time.”

**********

Although, the time you did have left wasn’t much and it went by very quickly.

You had started sleeping on top of a large beach towel in case your water broke while you were sleeping and you woke up one night a couple of days before your due date to a decent amount of pain shooting across your stomach and an empty spot next to you in bed where Brock was supposed to be.

Shit.

Picking up your phone off of the nightstand, you quickly checked to see if you had any messages from Brock which you did. He said he had a quick job locally he had to do, just to the airport and back to SHIELD, then he would be home.

The contractions were unlike anything you’ve experienced before so more than likely you were in labor…and Brock wasn’t there.

In his texts, Brock said it wouldn’t take long but how long could you wait? He didn’t answer when you called and you tried him a few times so you decided to text him.

I think she’s coming, baby. I’ll meet you at the hospital. If you miss this, don’t plan on coming home…I’m sorry, I love you but I’m hormonal and scared to death.

On your way out the door, you picked up your bag that you remember packing a few months ago, the little outfits you picked out for her to wear home and everything you needed for your time in the hospital.

It was 2:30 in the morning and the city was quiet. You stared out of the car window as your Uber driver raced to the hospital, there wasn’t a lot going on besides the bright lights above the sidewalk, a few people walking beneath them, and you wondered where your husband was. Hopefully he was alright.

Before arriving at the hospital, you had called your doctor to tell him you were in labor or at least you thought you were and you tried Brock one more time before checking in…still no answer.

The contractions were painful and as you lay in bed, hooked up to all the machines, you wondered where Brock was and why did your daughter have to pick tonight when her father wasn’t home to start her journey into this world.

The noises inside and outside of your hospital room were tuned out by your brain and your thoughts. You probably checked your phone every 15 seconds to see if Brock had at least texted but he hadn’t. He still had time though because you were only a few centimeters dilated.

You had been resting for a little while, dealing with the contractions as they came when the doctor came in to check to see how your labor was progressing.

“How are my patients doing?” Asked Dr. Kalla as he walked through the door.

Before the door closed all the way, you thought you heard some commotion, yelling, and something hitting the floor but you didn’t think anything of it.

“Fine, Dr. Kalla. They seem like they’re getting closer.” You replied, just as he started to check how far along you were.

Dignity was out the window when it came to labor and delivery so it only made sense that Brock practically broke down the door while you were being checked by your doctor.

He took one look at the doctor and then yelled, “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’, guy?!!!”

Brock was ready to knock the doctor to the floor when you yelled at him, “BROCK, STOP!! Dr. Kalla was just checking my labor progression! What is the matter with you?!!”

Dr. Kalla was finishing his check when Brock’s friend, Jack Rollins, stuck his head in the room to say, “Rumlow…I’m gonna go park the truck.” He paused, looked at the doctor, then looked at you and continued, “Whoa…heyoooooo!”

“I’m gonna kill you!” Yelled Brock and started to chase Jack out of the room.

Ripping the cool wash cloth off of your forehead, you yelled at Brock, “I’m gonna kill YOU, Rumlow! I’m so sorry, Doctor. He’s a big dumb animal.”

The doctor replied, “It wouldn’t have been the first time a husband has knocked me out. You’re progressing quickly. You can still have the epidural if you want to but I know you said you wanted to do this naturally. Is that still your plan?”

A contraction was hitting right at that moment.

You took a minute to breathe through it before answering, “Yes, that’s still my plan but thank you and again, I am so sorry about him.”

“I’ll be back in a little bit to check you again.” The doctor said.

“Hey doc, I’m really sorry.” Said Brock.

“It’s your first baby, I’ll give you a pass. Enjoy these last moments as a family of two.” He said with a kind smile and closed the door behind him.

Your smile quickly disappeared as the door closed and through gnashed teeth, you said, “I cannot believe you, Rumlow! He’s a DOCTOR!!”

“Well, what was I supposed to think, I rush in here and another man has his fingers inside of you!” He growled back.

Fighting the pain of a contraction, you replied, “Again, he’s a doctor!! You didn’t recognize him?!! He’s been my doctor for a handful of appointments!”

“Alright, alright, doll. I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry I was out on a job, I’m sorry I almost knocked the doctor’s teeth out, I’m just…sorry.” Said Brock, kissing your forehead.

It really was hard to stay mad at him so you just decided to switch gears and move on.

“It’s ok, Brock. She’ll be here soon, ya know.” You said. “Ow, ow, ow!”

“Seems like she wants out now.” Brock said with a wide smile.

“Are we ready for this?” You asked with a hitch in your voice.

He moved a stray hair away from your eyes and replied, “Ready as we’ll ever be, doll. She’s comin’ whether we’re ready or not.”

**********

The next time the doctor checked, he broke your water, said you were close and it will almost be time to push. Breathing through your contractions with quick inhales and exhales, your eyes fluttered closed at the really bad ones and Brock was there to hold your hand through all of them.

Expecting the doctor, the door opened but it was Jack that walked in.

“I’m here to check the patient.” He joked, holding two fingers in the air.

“Get outta my room, Jack!” You shouted at him through a rather painful contraction.

A devilish grin stretched across Jack’s lips as he replied, “I’m kidding, y/n! I’m kidding! I just wanted to see how you were doin’ and if you needed anything.”

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Jack Rollins?” You asked.

Jack replied, “I’m just gonna say, I’ll be right outside if you’re ready to have another one put in you when this one is out.”

Jack ran for the door as Brock chased him.

“Get outta my wife’s room and you don’t get to come back until the baby is out!” Shouted Brock.

After Jack slipped out of the room, the doctor came back.

“You ready to push y/n? It’s time to meet your baby.” Said Dr. Kalla.

You nodded as Brock kissed the top of your head and helped you get into position.

It was chaotic in your room, to say the least. Doctors and nurses everywhere, Brock holding your leg, telling you to push, and you focusing on desperately wanting to meet your baby daughter.

And after a handful of pushes, some very strong curse words, and encouragement from everyone around you, your little girl finally graced everyone with her presence and she was very vocal about it.

The picture of perfection, little Natalie Elizabeth Rumlow was finally here and she was so worth the wait.

All you wanted to do was stare at her, the perfect tiny combination of you and Brock fit in the crook of your arms like she was always meant to be there. And your husband couldn’t stop smiling.

“It’s obvious I’ve never really held a baby before, isn’t it?” He asked.

You returned a smile and replied, “Eh, maybe a little…but not too bad.”

The door opened slowly and Jack peeked in, holding a stuffed unicorn, “Is it safe? Has the screaming stopped? I’d like to meet her.”

“It’s safe…come on in, Uncle Jack.” You said.

Jack was actually a natural when it came to holding babies.

“If you tell anyone I’m soft when it comes to babies, I’ll fuckin’ kill you, Rumlow!” Said Jack.

That made you both laugh.

Natalie’s first visitor was her Uncle Jack but many more visitors of family and friends followed after him, of course she slept through most of it like newborns do, only waking up to be fed and changed.

And after they all had gone home, it was just the three of you finally alone and you were exhausted.

“You think I’ll be good at this Dad thing, sweetheart?” Asked Brock, watching Natalie sleep.

“I do, baby. But just remember that nobody’s perfect. We’ll both make mistakes, I’m sure.” You replied.

“You’ll have to help me.” He said.

You gently touched Natalie’s head, her wild dark hair reminded you a lot of her dad’s.

“We’ll help each other, baby.” You said with a warm smile.

Brock inched closer to you and planted a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I love you.” Whispered Brock.

You whispered back, “I love you too.”

**********

Three Months Later

“Why?!! She’s just a tiny baby! Why?!” Asked Brock, flustered and pacing back and forth in the exam room.

“It’s just that time, baby. It’s not like she’s gonna remember.” You said. “I told you that you didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”

It was time for Natalie’s first shots and it probably was a mistake to bring Brock with you but you thought maybe he could comfort you too. It wasn’t easy watching those needles pierce her skin and seeing her cry but you handled it better than Brock did.

In the car, on the way home, you took a phone call from the doctor’s office.

“Yes, I completely understand. Thank you.” You said and hung up.

Brock asked, “What did they say?”

“Yeah, they said you’re not allowed to come with me anymore!” You yelled.

“So I got a little upset, what’s the big deal?!” He asked with a shrug.

You playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“You made those nurses cry, Brock! THAT’S the big deal!” You said.

“Serves them right for hurting my little girl.” He said. “So I’m really not allowed back?”

“Not unless those nurses recover from their PTSD!” You hissed.

A sly smile appeared on Brock’s face as he said with a chuckle, “Totally worth it. It’s a story I’ll be able to tell her when she’s older.”

Biting back a smile, you couldn’t do anything but shake your head at him. You reached out and brushed his cheek with your knuckles. Brock turned his head quickly to kiss your hand, Natalie was babbling to herself in her carseat, and you were endlessly in love with both of them.

She really was the best unexpected surprise you didn’t know you wanted but now couldn’t picture living without.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan @staley83 @bartonsparrow25

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @randomlittleimp

If I tagged you and you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again. As always, thank you again for reading!

#brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow x female reader #brock Rumlow fanfic #brock rumlow imagine #brock rumlow smut

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silverynight · 3 months ago

Text

Promised hearts

Tanjirou rushes towards home that night after a long day at the village selling charcoal; he's practically running despite the villagers warning about the dangers of the night because he has heard the Uzui clan has a new leader.

He knows about the debt, his father told him all about it before he died; he had to ask for money to them because he couldn't work anymore and Tanjirou was too young then to sell charcoal.

He warned him; he told him he had to save a little every time he sold his charcoal and keep it hidden until he got enough to give it to the leader.

But now that the clan has a new leader, Tanjirou is not sure how the person will handle it.

He doesn't want his family to get hurt or threatened.

When Tanjirou arrives, his family is still there and they seem to have had a normal day; they have no idea why Tanjirou rushed home instead of staying in their old friend's house, but Tanjirou doesn't give them the opportunity to ask more because he's a terrible liar.

They have a normal dinner except that he's nervous; Nezuko seems to notice, but she doesn't say anything in front of their siblings and mother, which Tanjirou appreciates.

She pulls him aside after dinner, but Tanjirou begs her to go to sleep and promises to tell her in the morning.

Nezuko is still worried about him, but she nods eventually and does as he says.

Tanjirou takes his father's axe and stays at the entrance, sitting there to stay awake. He knows he's no match for a shinobi, but he's only meant to use it if the person tries to hurt his family.

He's scared; he has no idea what's about to happen. Maybe the new leader of the clan will keep the terms the old one agreed to, but Tanjirou is not sure.

He has heard a lot about them, but nothing good.

One option would be to move with his family to another town, but the little ones can't travel during winter, and the truth is they have nowhere else to go.

He ties his scarf around his neck a bit more tightly before walking outside to see if he notices something strange.

When he sees something out of the corner of his eye, a shadow, he tenses immediately.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Kamado Tanjirou."

It doesn't matter where he looks, he has no idea where the voice could be coming from and that makes him feel even more nervous.

Tanjirou knows the man is hiding in the shadows... so he closes his eyes for a moment and uses his nose instead. The new scent is coming from one of the trees to his left.

When he opens his eyes, he notices a more defined shadow on one of the tree branches.

"Damn boy, you're not bad," the man chuckles and there's something in his voice that makes Tanjirou relax somewhat. "But listen, if I wanted to kill you, I would've done so a while ago, so please hear me out."

Tanjirou nods and leaves the axe aside, knowing he has no other choice.

"I can give you some money," he mumbles as the shadow jumps down from a tree and starts getting closer. "Not everything my father owed you, but–"

"I don't want your money, Tanjirou. I'm not like my father," the man says and when he finally steps into the moonlight, the redhead realizes that he's way younger that he thought.

But he's so tall and strong; his hair is white, and his eyes are a deep shade of pink that looks good with that headband covered in gemstones.

"A lot of people owed my father money, and most of them are as bad as us," the young man explains, grimacing at the mention of his kin. "But when they told me about your family, I had to find out a bit more. I've been following you for a couple of days and I..."

For the first time, the tall shinobi looks flustered and nervous. He bites his bottom lip before looking back into Tanjirou's eyes.

"I have never met someone with such a pure heart."

"I'm not that good," Tanjirou protests, looking back at the axe he was planning to use.

The man with white hair chuckles, noticing the movement.

"I'm sure you just wanted to protect your family," the ninja says. "But you don't have to worry from now on. You have no debt anymore and I promise you and your family are under Uzui Tengen's protection now."

Tanjirou blinks in confusion; he has heard a lot about the Uzui clan, and it doesn't make sense. But he can tell that the man is good or at least he tries to.

"Thank you, Uzui-san," he mumbles sincerely, tearing up.

Uzui reaches out, smiling fondly at him, but he moves his hand away before his fingers can make contact with Tanjirou's cheek.

"I'm sorry," the shinobi apologizes, looking guilty. "I don't want to taint you."

Tanjirou looks up at him in confusion, especially after he notices that his hands are clean.

"Good night, Tanjirou," Uzui smiles, but the expression doesn't reach his eyes.

He looks so sad and lonely, Tanjirou wants to pull him into a hug, but before he can decide if that's a good idea, the man disappears.

He doesn't hear about him at all after that, if he doesn't count the gifts that appear outside his house every week or so; sometimes they're money, others are nice clothes for Tanjirou and others are blankets and scarfs for the winter.

Tanjirou doesn't know how to get in contact with him, so sometimes he goes out in the middle of the night, thanking the cold air, hoping Uzui can hear him.

***

"Oh, I'm truly sorry!" Tanjirou apologizes as soon as he feels himself collide with another person on his way to the village. He looks up and notices it's a young woman with long dark hair; for some reason she doesn't look upset at all.

"It's okay, Tan-"

She comes with other two women, one of them, the one with blonde bangs, hits her on the head before she can finish the sentence.

"What's your name?" the one with the ponytail asks, trying to distract him from the bickering the other two have going on.

"I'm Kamado Tanjirou. It's a pleasure to meet you!" he beams, prompting the three women to blush.

"I'm U- I mean, I'm Hinatsuru, and that's Suma and Makio."

"Were you heading to the village?" Suma asks, fluttering her long lashes at him.

"Yes, I'm going to sell charcoal."

"Can we come with you?" Makio asks. "We can help you carry that."

Now it's Tanjirou's turn to blush.

"There's no need!" He stammers a bit. "I'm used to it. I can carry it on my own!"

However, he does agree to the company because he likes the three of them already. They end up chatting quite a lot; they seem curious about Tanjirou's life and also like to say a few things about their husband.

It seems the three of them have the same husband, which is something not very common in Tanjirou's village, but he doesn't mind, they look happy, and by the way they speak about him, all of them seem to love him very much.

After that, he becomes really good friends with the three of them; they keep him company whenever he goes to the village every few weeks or so and sometimes they give him a couple of gifts they bring after the trips they make.

Then he doesn't see them in months... a year, and even though he understands they probably have busy lives and can't pay him visits anymore, he does miss them nonetheless.

It's a shame he never met their husband.

***

Tanjirou shouldn't be running towards home at night, but there's a smell in the cold air he doesn't like; it doesn't matter what the villagers say, he has to make sure his family is safe.

When he arrives, his heart almost jumps out of his chest as he sees all of them outside; Nezuko is carrying Rokuta, but she can't calm him down so she immediately hands him to Tanjirou.

"What happened?" he asks, covering his baby brother as much as he can with his own scarf.

"There's someone... something inside the house," his mother tells him; she's pale, but she tries to look calm and collected in from of her children.

"Stay here. I'll go check-"

"NO!" Rokuta cries, grabbing Tanjirou's haori tightly. "Don't go!"

He's thinking about giving him back to Nezuko anyway when the creature comes out. He looks like a human, except that he has horns, red eyes and fangs.

"Demon," his mother hisses, before grabbing Hanako and Shigeru and telling Takeo and Nezuko to run towards the woods.

Before Tanjirou can think about what to do, the demon charges at him. He turns his back on him and wraps his arms around Rokuta so he doesn't hurt him.

There's the sound of air as it gets cut by a very sharp blade; except that its not the air what's been cut, but the demon's head.

It disappears like ashes before Tanjirou can process what just happened.

That's when he sees him: Uzui Tengen, carrying blades that would probably be impossible for anyone without his height or arms to carry.

He looks different, although he seems happier than the last time Tanjirou saw him.

"Thank you, Uzui-san!"

"I promised you you'd be under my protection and I tend to keep my promises."

This time he doesn't hesitate, he cradles Tanjirou's face and stares at him like he's the most beautiful thing in the world.

***

They invite him inside their home and even though Kie insists he shouldn't do anything but drink his tea, Uzui helps them put the things the demon moved back into their place.

He explains a little bit of what he does for a living: he's a hashira, one of nine, and they basically try to protect innocent people from demons.

After a while, Tanjirou notices Nezuko is watching him with amusement and a little bit of suspicion.

"Kamado Kie," Uzui bows in front of her. "I'd like to ask your permission to keep visiting your oldest son with my three wives."

"Are they okay with this?" She asks him, she's a little bit surprised after finding out the Pillar is married already.

"They love him too."

Tanjirou suddenly feels like he lost track of the conversation, because he doesn't understand what they're talking about. Then Uzui turns his head a bit to look at him and adds: "They're Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru."

"I know them!" The redhead smiles. It truly is a small world. Who would've thought they were his wives? "How are they?"

"They miss you a lot."

Tanjirou gets a bit flustered at that, and before he can tell Uzui he misses them too, his mother cuts in: "It's okay. You may start courting him."

"Thank you."

It takes Tanjirou a couple of seconds for the information to finally get processed in his mind, but he gets it eventually.

And he blushes to the tip of his ears.

***

The four Uzuis start courting him; Tanjirou can't quite believe they all want to marry him, but he's happy with all of them.

He has fallen in love with them too.

"I wanted to court you since I met you," the sound hashira explains, looking a little bit down at the memory. "But I was ashamed of being a shinobi so I told myself I'd come back for you once I did something I could be proud of. You are my... You are very important to us, Tanjirou. You makes us want to be better and we'll keep trying to do better for you."

"I'll try my best to make you all happy," Tanjirou promises, already tearing up; he wants to tell them more, to make sure they know he loves them too, but he doesn't think he can talk at the moment.

But they seem to know anyway, because Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru hug him as they smile fondly at him; They kiss all his tears away before Tengen takes him in his arms and gives him a toe-curling kiss until he steals Tanjirou's breath away.

He can't wait to be part of their family.

***

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#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tanjiro kamado #tengen uzui

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