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illbegottenfaith · 3 days ago

Text

stuck with u

you get stuck in the Room of Requirement with a not-so-distant acquaintance and realise there's no where else you'd rather be (theo nott x reader)

all this loving you, hating you, wanting you...

a/n - ahh my first entry for hogmarch! I can't believe I'm finally writing a trope I used to devourrr as a (younger) teen and although 'stuck' tropes aren't my absolute favourites I like that I went for a little unconventional take on it :D I decided to blend the week 1 & 2 themes since im wayyy past the week 1 timeframe oops (midterms...) anyways this was so so fun to write cuz even 5 years on I love love loveee stuck with u ARGHH its so good so enjoy :)))

tropes/warnings - mutual pining, friends-ish to lovers, fluff, happy ending <3

word count - 2.5k

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf

You’d never been one to stick around - not when it came to people.

You had friends. Plenty of them, in fact. You’re easy to get along with, know how to fill the silences with laughter. But close friendships - the kind where you let them actually know you, the kind where you let them in, let them see something real - those have been few and far between.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of people. You just didn’t trust easily.

Most friendships, to you, felt temporary. People drift in and out of each other’s lives all the time, and you’d never seen much use in pretending otherwise. You kept things surface-level, just enough to be friendly. But the moment someone gets too close, asking questions you don’t want to answer, you pull away. Create distance before they can even get the chance to disappoint you.

But then there’s Theo. And, for some reason, he’s the only person you’ve never managed to push away.

Not that you haven’t tried.

In your first year, when you tripped down the last few steps of the dungeon staircase and sent your books flying, it was Theo who had crouched beside you, silently gathering them up, not a single snide remark on his lips as 11-year-old boys were prone to hand out. No, all you got was a faint smirk as he handed them back to you without a word, all while you gaped gormlessly at him.

In your third year, when you missed a week of classes after a particularly vicious stomach bug, it was Theo who had slid his notes across the table in Potions, muttering “don’t ask me to explain any of it” out the corner of his mouth. All the same, with every mildly incoherent word in his slanted, cursive handwriting, he was surprisingly cooperative in deciphering it for you.

In your fourth year, when you got hexed in the middle of the corridor and spent the entire afternoon with bright green hair, it was Theo who had walked you to the Prefects’ Bathroom, rolling his eyes as he mumbled something about how he “might as well supervise” before you inevitably made it worse.

And this year - your last year - he’s always there.

You don’t understand it. You don’t have the kind of friendship where you confide in each other, where you talk about things that matter. But somehow, Theo always seems to be around when it matters - watching with those observant, calculating eyes of his, offering help without making a big deal out of it, like he knows you wouldn’t take it if he did.

It’s a running joke now - one you always throw at him with a grin. You just can’t get rid of me, huh?

And every time, he huffs a quiet laugh. Apparently not.

The next time you get stuck with him is over spring break. Naturally, all your friends wanted to do was laze around the Common Room, half-dozing. Eventually, someone proposed the brilliant idea of fetching a game for a little intellectual stimulation, like Uno. Unfortunately, no one wanted to actually get up to get it other than you and Theo.

“This isn’t going to work,” you said. You and Theo were standing in an empty corridor on one of the higher floors, one where the Room of Requirement was rumoured to appear. He shushed you impatiently, his eyes still screwed shut as he thought long and hard about a deck of uno cards.

You sighed, waiting for him to get this over with. This close, you could see every individual eyelash of his, all of which were unfairly long. Really, it was a waste of a beautiful feature on a perfectly mediocre boy.

He finally opened his eyes, which almost immediately found yours. You hadn’t realised you were standing so close to each other. For a brief moment, you were struck by how pretty his eyes were - marbled, watercolour eyes that lent a softness to his otherwise strong, harsh features. Momentarily speechless, you looked away, following his line of sight over your shoulder.

Well, I’ll be damned, you thought. A door. An actual door.

Sure enough, it opened to a narrow, cavernous room filled to the brim with every board game you could dream up. The two of you wandered in, weaving in and out of stacks upon stacks of games. Once you picked out a suitable deck of Uno cards, you both meandered back to the entrance. Or what was the entrance.

You turned the corner of a stack, back to where the entrance was, only to see Theo standing with his back to you, his face hidden, fingertips ghosting a blank stretch of stone.

“Theo,” you started, stating the complete obvious, “why is there wall where the door is supposed to be?”

"I don't believe it," you heard him mumble disbelievingly under his breath. "It was here just a moment ago."

"You lost the door?" you cried out. He was starting to look a little green around the gills, his eyes darting to the other walls. He gave a weak, unconvincing laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous."

“Do something, Theodore!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Theo winced. “Quit yelling, would you?”

You sat down, slumped against the opposite wall, dragging a hand across your face. “Great. This is just perfect. We’re going to grow old and die and shrivel up in here and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault? If you had just waited by the door like I asked - ”

"You didn't tell me the door was going to disappear!"

"Yeah - well - it's never happened before." Theo dragged his hand out of his hair, now wildly sticking up in all directions, fingers trailing up the wall as if trying to feel for a hidden door. You scoffed.

"I told you we should have gone down to Hogsmeade to buy a deck, but no, you didn’t want to walk all that way.”

“Unlike you, I actually know how to work the Room.”

Theo turned just in time to dodge the Monopoly figurine you had hurled at his head.

"Then work it. Get us out of here."

--------

"Stop chucking things at me."

Grudgingly, you paused your assault. Half an hour ago, you had been ready to climb the walls and tear them down to get out of this place. Now, the craze had passed, so you settled for pelting Theo with all the tiny games figurines you could get your hands on while he paced wearily, trying to think of a solution.

“I’ll stop when we have an exit.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Theo turned back to the blank stone wall, muttering something under his breath as he pressed his palm against it. When nothing happened, he shoved both hands through his already-ruffled hair and swore under his breath.

Your eyes tracked his movements critically. “You have no idea how to get us out of here, do you?”

“Of course I do,” Theo shot back, a little too quickly.

"Right."

Five minutes later, he finally admitted defeat. He joined you where you were slumped in a corner, unsuccessfully trying to juggle the chess pieces. To your credit, you didn't say it, but your whole body language hummed with an undercurrent of I told you so.

"The Room's going to let us out when it wants to let us out," he said finally. "All we can do is wait till it feels like it."

He sounded so defeated you were starting to feel a little bad for being so hard on him. You sighed.

"I just can't believe we're stuck in here when everybody else is...you know, out there."

“Yes,” he said drily, “because there’s so many better places to we need to be. Merlin forbid we fall behind on our couch-rotting hours.”

You grinned as he picked up the deck of cards on your lap, starting to shuffle them.

"Might as well make the most of it while we're stuck here."

You raised your eyebrows as he started expertly manipulating the deck.

"Shuffling's the newest panty-dropper, eh?"

The corner of his mouth ticked upwards as his eyes remained fixed on the deck. "You'd be surprised."

You can practically see him puffing out his chest on the showier tricks he does with laser-focused concentration. It makes you want to laugh, his almost childish need to be impressive. To impress others. To impress you.

But, for reasons that eluded you, you were impressed. Not once had Theo ever let you down. It was as though he was incapable of it. You didn't exactly rely on him, but when he was around, his deep, self-assured voice was guaranteed to soothe your frazzled nerves. Even now, when all you wanted to do was bitch and moan about how you were never going to see the light of day again, he somehow managed to distract you, amuse you. Theo always knew how to turn a bad situation around and, well, to someone as catastrophic as you, what could sound more appealing?

Game after game, time began to blur. The cards whispered as they slid over each other in his hands, a hypnotic rhythm filling the silence between you. You let your head tilt back against the wall, exhaling slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little.

Your head lolled against your shoulder as you lazily watched Theo shuffle the cards for the umpteenth time.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you noted, tilting your head toward him.

He didn't look up from the cards. "A novel concept, I know."

You nudged him in the ribs and he gave an exaggerated wince.

"Watch it. There's no exit and I'm more than capable of beating your ass."

Theo laughed at that, openly and unabashed.

"You're going to beat my ass?"

"Just said I would, didn't I?"

Theo snorted, mumbling something somewhat affectionate under his breath. You turned away, hiding your grin. Your cheeks were pink and your eyes glittered with the thrill of being Theo's company - the only person who could keep up with you.

He continued shuffling the cards, a little slower now.

“I’m thinking.”

You looked back at him, once again interested. “Dangerous.”

He flicked a card at you without looking, and you batted it away with a grin. “Thinking about what?”

His shuffling slowed to a stop. “Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something.” You leaned even closer to him now, your knees brushing against his thigh. “Something broody and dramatic, I bet. Come on, spill.”

Theo exhaled through his nose. “Drop it.”

“Not a chance,” you chirped. "Just tell me what it is. Unless you’re scared.”

That got him. His jaw ticked, fingers tapping on the deck.

“Didn’t peg you for a coward, Nott,” you goaded, bumping your knee against his. “You can tell me.”

Theo let out a slow breath, his shoulders tensing. He shuffled the deck once more, but this time, his movements weren’t just for show. They were measured, thoughtful, almost like he was buying himself time.

You covered his hands with yours, stopping him. He glanced down to where the two of you were practically holding hands.

“If I tell you something, you have to promise not to laugh.”

You nodded. "Did you kill a man."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "No."

"Is it about the shuffling? Were you secretly roped into an underground gambling ring over the summer? Is that where you learnt all those tricks?"

You could tell he desperately wanted to smile but was stopping himself. "No," Theo said, his grip on your hand tightening.

"You started an underground gambling ring? Without me?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

You dropped your eyes to his crotch for a fraction of a second.

"Ach - not like t - that's not what I meant."

"I'm just messing with you." You ran a hand through his hair despite his desperate, one-handed attempts to bat you away. "Tell me already."

Theo hesitated. You became suddenly aware of how quiet the Room was. You felt an awful, sinking feeling in your stomach that maybe Theo was right. You weren't going to like what he had to say.

“I don’t mind being stuck here.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

He shifted beside you, tapping the deck of cards against his knee.

“I mean, yeah, it’s a bit ridiculous how we ended up here, but…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

“It’s not the worst thing in the world. Being here. Being stuck here. With you.”

You stared at him. His eyes shone with that stupidly optimistic sincerity of his that you only saw glimpses of from time to time. He meant every single word.

His grip slackened. Wordlessly, you retracted your hand. How were you to bear this?

"You're right," you said in a voice thick with unshed tears. "That is absolutely ridiculous. It's downright - " your voice quivered. You brushed a hand across your eyes. "Downright laughable."

A sobering silence followed. You wondered if Theo was kicking himself for having opened his mouth in the first place. You wondered if you should say something.

"You really don't mind this?" you started hoarsely. You tilted your head to face him. "You don't mind me? I mean, I pelted you with Monopoly pieces while yelling abuse at you. I messed up your hair."

His mouth curved into that faint, breezy smile of his.

"'Course I don't mind it."

"Why not?" You should.

"'Cause it's you." It's you. It's always been you.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You felt the exhaustion of being trapped in here catching up to you. You rested your head on his clavicle. Hesitantly, he turned his head to press his lips to your temple.

"I have to be honest, Y/N," he muttered against your hair. "I don't know if we're getting out of here."

"S'alright." You pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder. "There's nothing I'd rather than do, either."

It's what all this loving him, hating him, wanting him boiled down to. Interlacing his long, careful fingers with your own, you decided that yes, there was no one else you'd rather be stuck with.

#I rlly dont know how to shut up in my authors notes huh #😭😭😭#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #hogmarch2025

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oikarma · 9 hours ago

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how you get the girl | pt.2

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: what is up with your ex-situationship's timing?

a/n: time to lock in and actually work on this fic LOL.

part one / part two

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando and others

yourinstagram to new beginnings

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lilyzneimer will miss having you as a neighbor </3

yourinstagram oh but lily no distance could separate us yourinstagram i'll call you so often you'll get sick of me lilyzneimer you already do yourinstagram oh. so.

hattiepiastri what happened to "catch flights not feelings"

yourinstagram in the making of this post no feelings were caught hattiepiastri but you are catching a flight yourinstagram it's for my freaking job let me BREATHE

yourfriend chef ramsey

yourinstagram ❤️ come over and i'll let you try some, they're sooo good

lando missing you in shanghai

yourinstagram you called me hours minutes ago lando wish you'd come visit yourinstagram what, are we in an established relationship? hattiepiastri OOOH CLOCKED!!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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yourinstagram home is where the heart is

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yourfriend so much fun with you!

yourinstagram can't believe we live so close now

hattiepiastri but i'm literally in aus.

yourinstagram didn't say where my home was, read the caption again hattiepiastri sorry queen ☹️

lando but that's not where mine is?

yourinstagram lando have you been listening to ts recently lando maybe yourinstagram didn't peg you for a lover boy @/oscarpiastri come here lilyzneimer don't make fun of his music taste yourinstagram who, oscar's? don't you worry, i was just sharing information so oscar could bully lando oscarpiastri Thanks, mate. yourinstagram good lad! lando ...

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

deuxmoi Well, what do we think?

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user1 cheating already? gah. men.

user2 well maybe kylie's had a change of mind we never know. might be an inside joke or something

user3 she VEHEMENTLY hates green user4 wow fancy vocab user2 i'm just saying, maybe there's another meaning.

user5 are we sure its timothee

user6 ma'am this is a wendy's

user7 where even was he

user8 he posted his poker night at chateau marmont then dipped so no idea user9 on his story he posted a pic at an airport so prob not in LA anymore

user10 what was that girl he was hooking up with called again? swore i heard her talking in one of her tiktoks how she loved green

user11 that's crazy user12 delulu 101 user13 think her name was y/n or something just google it

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

close friends only

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yourinstagram me rn

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lilyzneimer ...what now

yourinstagram TURN OFF DND AND RESPOND TO ME

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tiktok

@/chalametss timothee and kylie spotted at a concert

user1 guess it was an inside joke after all

user2 what user3 there was a rumor going around that he was buying stuff in her least favorite color user4 what even are these theories

user5 mom i don't like what i'm seeing

yourtiktok @/lilyztiktok bro this comment has been deleted

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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lando Shanghai P4. Not the best pace today. We got off to a bad start but made what we could. Good job, Oscar.

user1 ohhh the first pic

user2 ovaries just exploded

user3 lando norizz who? he looks at me like that and i drop dead

user4 You got it mate

oscarpiastri Thanks Lando!

user5 mclaren's 2025 wdc + wcc

yourinstagram congrats! wish i could've been there

lando come to suzuka? user6 @/maguiwhateverheruseris keep an eye on your man user7 she's actually really pretty...why y'all hating? user8 no one's hating?? yourinstagram i'll see

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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yourinstagram insert motivating gym quote

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hattiepiastri oooh SPICY

yourinstagram 💓💋

lilyzneimer i approve of p3 wholeheartedly

yourinstagram almost forgot i had him blocked for a moment and worried that he'd see it lilyzneimer what are you worrying about?? you don't owe him anything

lando coming?

lando to suzuka? yourinstagram why'd you phrase it like that lando 😉 oscarpiastri Can you guys not. yourinstagram pop off oscar, tell him off lando 😔

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: got kinda messy...

#lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smau #lando norris #timothée chalamet #timothee x you #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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hamilando · 2 days ago

Text

ੈ✩ daddy playlist II (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : f1 gird x leclerc! reader ( platonic )

summary: the leclerc sister causing havoc in the f1 driver’s life again

tw : fluff; chaos, SUGGESTIVE

fc : emma chamberlain

a/n : I hope you like it and thank you so much for supporting me ! lysm 🫶🏻 the reader is gay, so don’t like it, don’t read it 🫶🏻 also, there are a lot of suggestive jokes, so please don’t read if you are uncomfortable

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by norriz, kikagnome and 63 others

babyn ok, Kimi is a baddie fr

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lordperceval STOP SPOILING KIMI

lordperceval GEORGE PLEASE TAKE KIMI AWAY

babyn KIMI IS THE POURING VODKA

georgey charles, kimi is more of a drunkard than lando

pastanelli what's this

pastanelli baddie yes

pastanelli I AM 18, ITS 9PM ON A FUCKING FRIDAY

babyn GET THE FUCK UP WE ARE GOING TO HIGH

pastanelli I am bringing my gf next time

babyn I AM BRINGING MINE TOO

chillijr you don't even have one

babyn I will make one !!!!

lollie CLUBBING WITHOUT ME

babyn sorry, you were sleeping

norriz why are the rookies such alcoholics

pierreneedsgas don't start norris, you're worse

kikagnome Y/N , stop drinking vodka with kids

babyn noooooo

hamsandwich toto is not going to be happy

babyn WHY DO YOU CARE ABOUT MERCEDES

lordperceval EXACLTY, LET AMG CRASH

pastry my god, WHY IS KIMI DRIVING WITHOUT A LICENCE

kingarthur yup, yn drinking and driving

lordperceval JAIL

max1 let the girl live, i swear FIA and FBI won't let anyone live

babyn LOVE YOU MAX

lordperceval MAX STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER AND GIVING HER SUCH WEIRD ADVICE

max1 SHE IS GAY !

babyn lesbian *

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babyn KIKAAA , I WAS DRUNK WITH BIANCA AND SHE IS ON MY BATHROOM FLOOR !? ALSO WHY WAS ON THE FLOOR ! KIKAAA ANSWER ME !? I DONT REMEMBER THESE PCITURES! WAIT OH MY GOD ! KIKA

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kikagnomes the reason I am not responding is cuz this is a post, NOT OUR TEXTS

kikagnomes Charles and arthur are going to kill you

lordperceval WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU

lordperceval DRUNK AGAIN !?

lordperceval PICK UP YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW

norriz she must be fucking Bianca

kingarthur LANDO!!

lordperceval THATS OUT SISTER !!

lordperceval WHY IS BIANCA THERE

alexmieux calm down charles, banging the phone won't make a difference

babyn KIKAKAKAAKAKJA SHE MUAH MUAH ME

lordperceval Y/N, PICK YOU PHONE

kikagnome guys, we collectively agree not to respond to this post yeah ?

pastry 👍🏻

max1 👍🏻

georgey 👍🏻

pierreneedsgas 👍🏻

albono 👍🏻

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babyn alright guys, I was drunk. Lando is hating me for picking my hangover ass. PLEASE NO BIANCA TALKS

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lordperceval not funny

lordperceval LANDO YOU WERE WITH THEM YET THEY GOT SO DRUNK

chillijr they were with lando THATS WHY they got that drunk

norriz calm down

norriz THEY GOT 1836 POUNDS WORTH OF VODKA

babyn i ma broke, ask my brothers

kingarthur I AINT PAYING MADAME

lordperceval my blood pressure

kikagnome lando being such a pookie

norriz set me up with Carla

pierreneedsgas NO !?

pierreneedsgas LANDO IS NOT BECOMING MY BROTHER IN LAW

babyn damn lando, my best friend's sister ?

pastanelli YOU ANSWER ME YN

pastanelli Bianca left her clothes at your place and she is asking me for your number

lordperceval WHAT

kingarthur dead yn. DEAD

babyn thank you so much KIMI

liked by norriz, max1, kikagnome and 73 others

babyn pg -13 date only

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kikagnome YN?!?!

lordperceval ALEX, IS MY LIFE INSURANCE UPTO DATE !?

lordperceval YN LECLERC , WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ?

babyn I just went on a date with Bianca

lordperceval DATE AND FUCKED !?

babyn HOW DO YOU -

babyn oh

babyn OH

babyn FUCK

kingarthur WHY ARE YOU TAKING PICTURES OF YOUR HICKEY !?

norriz bro got rizz

babyn thank you

lordperceval WHAT THE HELL YN !?

pastanelli Bianca still wants her clothesz

babyn she told me I look good in them 🤩

kingarthur YN ON THE CALL NOW

max1 damn kid, didn't think you had it in you

babyn I know 😔

lordperceval YN, ONE MORE TIME YOU IGNORE -

kikagnome You need concealer love ?

babyn Yes bby 🤩

lordperceval YN LECLERC! going to maman right now

babyn yes, photo deleted, life deleted, in call what's next ?

let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg!

permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @nichmeddar @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx @sadiemack9 @ilivbullyingjeongin @cherry-piee @luvleylisen @sweate-r-weathe-r @jxnellat @loveofmylife12 @budgetcupid @lilaissa @scorpiodiosa @wondergirl101ks @nichmeddar @hoeforlifee @urfavnoirette @lily-ann-b @okcurran @miniboast @teti-menchon0604 @motorsportloverf1 @formula1-motogpfan

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nightscythe · 3 days ago

Note

legions reaction to their primarch wooing you?

but i would love love love to read the more taboo version of primarchs kinks :D

hope you have/had a wonderful day :p

thank you anon hope you have/had a wonderful day too!! i waited for a plumber all day. created this as I waited •⩊•

please forgive me for what this turned into. i have made it less serious that originally planned but it just happened i am so sorry. i live in a fantasy where 30k is sunshine and rainbows. hope you enjoy anyway!! taboo vers. of the kinks will be posted later this week.

this is all pre-heresy. little bit nsfw on one i think so 18+ please.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

lion: there was no evidence, until the very very end stage of his courting, that the lion even had the slightest feeling of love in his body. but when he didn’t react to you approaching him, when he spared a glance at you, answered questions as though he didn’t just see you as another person beneath him. oh. they knew. and no one even dare speak a word of it. no side glances, no reactions. they ignored everything that happened. it was luther who eventually started a conversation about it with some others that same evening, away from the prying ears of their primarch. he’s so fucked. literally. because there’s no way in hell that the lion was the one chasing you. whatever he had said, you’d reciprocated, and if luther knew one thing about the lion… it’s that he won’t let things go that he thinks belong to him. it’s the nightly gossip when they have nothing better to discuss, and the lion really thinks no one has even noticed.

fulgrim: they were all enthralled by his tactics at first. such elegance, such style, fulgrim spared nothing in making you his absolute muse. but then fulgrim gets them all involved. they are delivering the pottery and jewellery to you by hand, ordered to protect you even (which they didn’t have the biggest issue with, you were nice) – fulgrim wanted to prove that even his finest warriors are on the table for you. and then it became all he talked about. and then, when you had finally been convinced of his love (because he told you his feelings father than gifted you a whole planet), fulgrim’s own ego was so entirely huge that he declared himself master of courtship. and now he’s got classes on how to make someone fall in love with you with guest speakers. eidolon is literally at the front seat, heart eyes, yes my perfect primarch please teach me your ways type thing. vespasian, on the other hand, is just wondering why he was even invited.

perty: they didn’t dare question their primarch, but they weren’t stupid. the handcrafted tools that he would spends hours on just to give away. the armour customised to a much smaller body. the books he’s borrowedfrom magnus that he has no interest in. vhalen had noticed because he had stumbled on a book his primarch kept detailing interests of yours. connected the dots. didn’t say anything because it wasn’t his place. silently tried to help out by leaving flowers you liked or herbs you needed for perturabo to give to you. never wanted anything in return, but believed that maybe you’d be able to help ground him, truthfully. but forrix? no. this was weak. they were taught to never be weak and this was a weakness to its very core. out of their control, completely inefficient, a waste of time in his eyes. he would never understand why perturabo was doing, but at the very least he wouldn’t say a word – not the same could be said about everyone in the legion though.

khan: at first it had started with the stashing of treasures he thought may be of interest to you. then, the invitation came. an esteemed guest would join for an adventure. and they were very amused. an esteemed guest? shiban might begin to joke, testing the khan’s reaction. and when his primarch looks up with the slightest smirk on his lips, there would be an immediate laugh. i think you may need to revisit that title my lord, perhaps something with… meaning. though many of the white scars would avoid asking questions, they enjoyed the details of it. it was a new adventure to them, and the khan was leading the way. but shiban would keep seeing this title, esteemed guest, and constantly change it to a new one. warhawk’s chosen was most common, because that’s what you were. and he’d probably be a banging wing man too, but the khan never needed it. just asks every so often how things are going and reports back to the others.

leman: they’d critiqued you as they watched their primarch try to train you how to protect yourself. with a sword, with a gun, with whatever was around. your own fists even. and you may have been no match for leman, but they were still impressed in their own way. a collective nod between them as you flawlessly replicate something he showed you. it’s when leman has you pinned against the floor and it becomes extremely obvious that he got so carried away that his hard on is pressed against you and you most certainly have noticed. whatever happened next, they weren’t sure. leman’s courting may just have been giving you a taster of what might happen if you accepted his love. they’d all given you privacy to say the least. another collective nod between them, what a majestic man their primarch was. and if you were brave enough? join them for beer as well.

dorn: it had been a normal day. life was just moving by calmly, not a thing or person out of place. dorn was discussing something about a building, the internal structure, yada yada. it was a really nice day to be an imperial fist. but then his hand reached for your shoulder, and the remnants of a smile fell on his lips as he lead you on to show you something else in the structure, something integral to building. and he wasn’t really wooing you in any sense of the word, but he was opening himself up in a way that only dorn could. he was… trying to impress you? no. archamus believes that there must be reason for this, his primarch is being tactical. you know something. sigismund believes the same. this is calculated and logical. explaining the internal structure must provide a benefit to the legion. perhaps you’re an expert of some kind. the pair don’t ever mention what they saw again, but they do consider what kind of expert you are later down the line when they’re standing outside their primarch’s doors waiting for the consultation to be over. whatever it was, you obviously felt very strongly.

curze: jago sighs. he’d had to watch his stupid primarch stand outside your window for what seemed like weeks now, neglecting his duties, or anything other than you really, whilst never saying anything. curze didn’t know he was there, but jago was too curious to let it go. he thought you were just another victim, someone curze was taking his time with, but then he realised the whole situation. curze was just watching. staring. felt but never seen. stole an item of your clothing. jago didn’t want to find out what item, but deep down he knew. curze was spiralling, staring into the distance, eyes glued to you even when you looked uncomfortable, but never actually talking to you. so jago takes it into his own hands. sends you directly to curze, makes the primarch speak to you. really, curze is just haunting you, but that’s okay - jago will fill in the gaps, woo you with all his own tactics until you actually start to reciprocate whatever it is curze is feeling. and the rest of nightlords are confused more than anything. does standing in the shadows actually work? are humans that enthralled by primarchs? gendor tries it out for himself, wanting his own partner (or, human trophy). doesn’t work for him but claims it does.

sanguinius: what a pure demonstration of love this is. to see their angel, someone who would fight in battle for hours without breaking, stutter over some words in front of someone? to watch as he fought to keep a conversation going just to hear your voice? his sons are in awe. of you, because how pure must you be to have won the attention of their primarch? but also of him, because it was the most human he had ever felt. they saw his nervous looks, his shy appreciation of your perfection, and valued it deeply. and overtime you’d start receiving flowers from him, handpicked by his sons who saw it as a way to help steer their somehow clueless primarch in the right direction. azkaellon specifically had handed him roses for you, cut from the most perfect bush, claiming it was something romantic that you would appreciate. and you did. and sanguinius was extremely happy when you kissed his cheeks (and the silent celebratory crowd of blood angels watched on in joy).

ferrus: you’re his personal project. he spent every hour of the day with you, it felt like. improving you, working on enchancements. making you perfect. but then something else started happening. it was no longer pride that kept him going. it was you. and they all noticed. at first he didn’t care for anything you said. now? he listens to every word. like you are another of his brothers, but it’s different, even than with fulgrim. he cares in a way they don’t understand. no one would ever say a thing – they’d all pass their silent judgement on how this went against everything he seemed to stand for. but maybe santor would ask about it just once. not for details, not for questioning. just to confirm. they are different, my lord? ferrus wouldn’t hesitate with his answer. they are everything. what does that even mean? it would never be mentioned again. by anyone. whilst some of them would question his decision internally, most would trust him – their primarch understood weakness, and if he didn’t see you as weak, neither would they.

angron: does anyone even know what is going on with you? could it even be considered wooing? barely. angron would want to kill you some days, and want to fuck you other days. and somewhere in between he’d just want to be with you. it was within that where kharn saw a positive. he saw hope. angron was capable of something other than rage and somehow you could control it for more than a single sentence. and in that regard, kharn becomes your biggest supporter. he would do anything he could to not only protect you in moments of rage but to encourage you when angron needed it the most. he’d prepare for those small moments of clarity to see if you could help balance angron out. but the others? it was a fluke. you weren’t changing anything. angron would never be any different. but go off, try and kill them, that shows you love them right?

rob: it only took one to notice. how a slight shift in his schedule put him back in the room with the same person he saw the week before, and the week before that. and he’s seeing them next week, and the week after. are they a diplomat? are they a specialised counsel of some kind? a small team of investigators forms, and no, you are none of those things. you are the object of lord guilliman’s attention. his carefully considered words. his offering of a basket of fruit you liked, supposedly something not liked by his offices. what a liar. they never receive baskets of fruit like that. it becomes a hot topic for gossip, and it isn’t until valentus asks if ‘this person’ he meets with so often may want something other than fruit baskets, and that he can ask for something to be custom made, that guilliman reconsiders his whole approach – and takes valentus up on that offer. speculations are common. whispers even more so. but they are all pleased for him in their own way.

morty: well it wasn’t really courting. he gave you something, said that would care if you died, and then waited for you to respond. and when you finally said that, yeah… you would too? he nodded and took that as confirmation of, uh, something between you. so you’re confused, and so are his sons. you even catch eyes with one and shrug comically because what the fuck? the entire legion falls silent about the issue. no one says a word. but internally? what the fuck was about right. morty didn’t seem to care for anything, he barely even seemed like he cared for his legion some time, and now he doesn’t want you to die. huh. whatever. typhon would be the one to outwardly say something. my lord, is this not a shackle that binds you to humanity? and the primarch would dismiss the thought without doubt. not every attachment is a weakness. deathguard HATE this guy.

magnus: ahriman should be ashamed of himself. he could be doing something important. he could be doing anything but this. but he’s silently observing his primarch, sat on the balcony of his private chambers, sharing a bottle of his finest wine with someone who has been here a few times now. sharing it with you. and he’s drabbling on about the universe and stars and how the universe began with his eyes all wide and bright, looking to see your response, needing to hear your voice and how you’re impressed by his understanding. ahriman isn’t spying. he’s protecting his primarch from the dangers at large. you could be dangerous. or, more realistically, ahriman wished to listen to magnus’ wisdom as well. but he can’t help but be genuinely impressed by how magnus handled himself, how he knew all the right things to say, how he was so genuinely charismatic with you. and equally, how he’d managed to hide this from the entirely population of tizca when he was right on the balcony. ahriman takes notes. he may need them in the future.

horus: a couple of the mournival had watched him from the corridor. horus had basically made you putty in his hands, he knew when and where to touch you, how to exude the right amount of character and strength, mixed with emotions and feelings, at the exact moment it was needed. he’s a traditionalist, he knows how to make someone swoon. a compliment here. a smile there. it’s a masterclass. this must be where fulgrim learnt it from. and his sons are living for it. that is until tarik hums to himself knowingly. i know them from somewhere. and loken hesitates, because isn’t that the person abbadon kept talking about before. yes it was. horus was courting the one person who caught abbadon’s interest, clearly taking something from that conversation. the pair keep it to themselves for now. loken walks away wondering how horus managed to make the word sweetheart sound so different – and how long it would be before everyone knew about this, because it would be a good source of a amusement.

lorgar: erebus and kor phaeron rarely lorgar out of their sights, because it seemed their grand plan would fuck up each time he managed to escape. this time? it seems the primarch has gone and fallen in love. they’d watched as lorgar handed you a book. perfectly accompanied by sticky tabs, post it notes, underlined words and highlighted phrases that made him think of you. each page was absolutely covered. kor phaeron had been the first to laugh, seeing his pathetic attempt at worship only elicit an uncomfortable smile from you as you flicked through the pages and saw the depths that he was going into. erebus was quieter, but equally amused. so easy to manipulate, he’d comment, seeing the way the lorgar would quite literally fall to his knees and praise you, another weakness he falls so easily to. but on the other side of things, argel tal is a few steps behind his primarch, peering around subtly in admiration of lorgar’s attempts. he sees it as sweet, actually, and rather than a weakness in his devotion to the emperor, saw it as an extension. some others may find it heretical, depending on where their loyalty stood.

vulkan: he first crafted you a knife, such a beautifully build and shaped weapon that everyone could tell his entire soul went into it. but he could have done that for anyone. and then he crafted a necklace, forced from things he owned, and was not shy about handing it to you in front of everyone. he wanted every one of his sons to know his feelings, maybe without directly saying it, and begin to internalise what this all meant. which is exactly what they did. and it was like a tension lifted. every single one of them is rooting for him, for you, for whatever is going to come from it. and vulkan can’t be criticised in his ways either. numeon may even comment, offhandedly, that he would inspire generations to come with his actions. and xiaphas? would plan the wedding. the most normal legion on this list, it seems.

corvus: he was silent about it, never revealing a thing to any other. his silent courting, his gestures that had no meaning until they did. it wasn’t until they’d see him protect you, maybe even just the flick of his wrist to prevent an action that he would never usually stop, that they all start thinking. wondering. could their primarch truly have feelings in this way? was there really one person who could capture all of their attention? it would come down to someone like sharrowkyn to say something. voice an opinion to his brothers and then to the primarch himself. with caution, of course. are they worth it, my lord? he wouldn’t hesitate. they are worth my entire being. and from then ravenguard watch in the shadows for you as well. they would accept it, they may not understand it, but they wouldn’t question it. he did not want to fail you. and if any of them did want to understand, he would explain it.

alpharius: regardless of which one it is that’s wooing someone, they were all involved. because this is alpharius after all - he’s not just going to make someone fall in love with him because he’s really nice. or he couldn’t be bothered to try. so the whole legion is in on it. they are all courting you, working on this plan which they don’t really understand. they all think its part of something bigger. they all think you must be someone who is so important that all their attention has to be focused on you. but no, alpharius just has a crush. and it becomes obvious when pretty soon alpharius does not want to share with anyone. a few of them would be kind of pressed about it. didn’t want to be involved, didn’t want to carry it on. a couple accidentally catch feelings because they were forcing themselves to replicate what alpharius was doing and he’s a very touchy-feely man. or was it omegon? who knows. maybe it wasn’t even alpharius that started this all, he was just caught up in the cross fire. regardless, alpharius is smitten, and his legion is… not.

i am very sorry if any people/legions are mischaracterised at all!! i am more familiar with some legions which probably comes across in this, but please tell me if something wouldn't happen, so i know for next time ◡̈

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crushribbons · 2 days ago

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the hot, flirty resident curse

summary: Dr. Frank Langdon just sustained the luckiest on-the-job injury ever.

cw: 2.8k words, nurse!reader/OC, friends to lovers, i started writing this before 1.10 so we're gonna say it's a "1.10 never happened"AU 😭, single dad frank, i made him probably more respectful than he actually is but nurses deserve the entire world so they're getting that too!!!, go hug a nurse rn, brief injury/knife ment, definite inappropriate behavior for a hospital, fem reader/OC.

a/n: drug theft???? what drug theft????

(gif cred)

The “break room” was busy today. Dozens of nurses hustling in and out of the dimly-lit, stale-smelling, and nowhere near big enough lounge. The microwave never could heat her leftovers to a degree that was actually pleasurable for human consumption, so she picked around her butter chicken with a sigh.

Only three hours left. She could have waited to eat dinner, but the promise of thirty uninterrupted minutes where she would not be yelled at by patients’ families or ordered around by some of the more pompous assholes she worked wi–

Speak of the devil, and he’ll stick his head into the nurse’s lounge, catch sight of you trying to enjoy a moment of peace, and yell, “HEY! Hey, you, Lululemon!” Her eye twitched. The black Define that she was wearing was her favorite. She did not turn to look at what she knew to be one of the new interns that started last week. He scoffed in frustration. “Yoohoo!”

“I have a name,” she said calmly, evenly. The butter chicken now held a lot of interest for her.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know it! How do I get to Imaging from here?” Her knuckles turned white around the plastic fork she was using, and she started to turn and read this greenie the riot act, but someone beat her to the punch.

A hand appeared from behind the intern (she realized with a little chuckle that she didn’t know his name either) and smacked him soundly upside the head. “What the FUCK?!” he cried. Dr. Langdon pushed him out of the lounge and down the hall.

“You will show respect to the nurses of this hospital if you want to continue working here, got it?” Langdon called after him. The kid muttered something snotty, she assumed, and she saw him amble away like a dog with its tail between its legs. “Sorry about him,” Langdon apologized. He hung on the door frame for a minute and chewed his lip. Her hand that wasn’t holding the fork searched for something to do, landing on smoothing down the hair that was already pulled into a perfect bun. “Kid’s an asshat.”

“I’ve known a few of those in my time here,” she joked, and Langdon grinned. She dropped the fork. “There was this one guy…Langdumb, or something like that. He was insufferable.” Langdon gave her an exasperated look that made her laugh and say, “But he’s much better now.” The exasperation was replaced with an angelic beam.

“Well, thanks for saying that. Some days, I wonder,” he said, then rubbed the back of his neck. She pouted in sympathy without realizing she was doing it. Langdon laughed. It was a little gravelly and when he smiled, he showed off each of his straight, white teeth. Her heart hammered at the ribcage prison bars that held it hostage.

Residents had a reputation. Of course they did; they’d toiled away in thankless obscurity for four years as medical students, so it only made sense that at the first opportunity they had to stretch their newly-educated legs, it would go straight to their head. She remembered Langdon being somewhat of a douche himself as a first-year, always correcting nurses and, on one occasion he later apologized profusely for, disregarding an order Dr. Robby had given for a patient to be intubated. Langdon had been correct in his estimation, thank God, but Robby had berated him in that terrifying, humiliating, cool as a cucumber way that he always did. She had been assigned to that patient at the time, and the memory of Robby quietly seething at Langdon in the corner of the hospital room still made her cheeks hot. That had been what finally whipped Langdon into shape.

Some residents also had a reputation for certain, seedier behaviors. There weren’t enough fingers or toes on the planet on which to count how many times some new hotshot had hit on her, usually opting to do so through negging and second-guessing her work, like she would be tripping over herself to go out on a date with the grown man tugging her pigtails on the playground. The kid Langdon had shoved down the hall was no doubt on his way to do something similar to the first nurse distracted enough to walk across his eyeline.

Dr. Langdon had no such reputation for flirtiness, and he had never made any sort of advance to her. Thank goodness. It was nice to have a friend in a slightly higher place than her.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, what’s going on for you, Dr. Frank?”

“Quit calling me Dr. Frank, especially in front of patients.” He rolled his eyes. “That puts a whole ‘Dr. Phil’ image in their heads and I hate it.”

“Oh I’m glad you mentioned that…” She turned in her chair to face him fully and seriously. “My teen has been drinking at parties and my husband is an absent father,” she said, face grave.

Frank adopted a Southern drawl and put his finger above his lip to simulate a moustache. “You have gawt to send that child to military school, it is the only waaay.” They giggled. Frank’s pager went off and he pulled it off his waistband to read it. “Shit, gotta run. Don’t have too much fun without me,” he ordered sternly, a frown creasing his pretty forehead.

Pretty forehead? Fuck is wrong with you? She admonished herself without mercy while she went through the motions of undressing and redressing the various beds in the Pitt for the rest of her shift. It was not a desirable duty to be stuck with. Luckily, it was a slow day in the ED by ED standards, with only two ambulance visits and a quiet trickle of less urgent cases admitted from the waiting room, so she had ample time to think about the piece of hair that was always falling in Frank’s bright blue eyes when he was working, and the way Frank cackled any time he cleaned up on one of his and Mateo’s college basketball bets, and Frank…

God, you’d think I had a thing for this guy, she mused to herself, slipping a pillow into its fresh case. Do not fall for the evil Hot Flirty Resident Curse. It might be a canon event for some nurses, but not for her. No, sir, she had her head on her shoulders more than that.

Didn’t matter if Frank wore a kitschy, clunky little bracelet, beaded with love by one of his daughters, every day. Didn’t matter if Frank spoke with the utmost respect about his ex-wife whenever the topic came up. Didn’t matter if he had once placed his hand on her lower back to steer her towards the patient’s room that he had needed her assistance with, and that she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. Didn’t matter if Frank–

–was knocking gently on the door of the room she now stood, motionless, in and asking, “Hey, did you see Mrs. Horowitz getting discharged?”

“Mrs. H-Horo–?” Her tongue felt about ten inches thick as she tried to remember which patient he was talking about and how to move her feet like a normal person.

“The low blood sugar.”

“Oh, right.”

Frank raised his eyebrows, making her realize she hadn’t answered the question. She wished a hole would open up in the speckled tile and swallow her. “Yes, I saw her checking out with Dana at central an hour or so ago,” she said. Ok, got it all out without stammering. This was just Frank; why was her brain foggy and making it impossible to speak to a man she’d always just thought of as a coworker? Her favorite coworker, sure. The highlight of her day? Also sure, but it wasn’t…She pulled a face that mirrored her thoughts before she could stop herself.

Frank thanked her, then paused on his way out of the room again.

“Uh..are you done for the day?” he asked, and a glance at her watch told her that yes, she was three minutes past being done.

“I could stick around for a bit,” she shrugged with all the nonchalance in the world. “Need help with something?” Frank shook his head, a tiny smirk she would have missed if she hadn’t been staring too hard at his mouth flickering around his lips.

“No, no worries, head home! I can totally just grab someone–”

“No!” She tried to play it cool with a chuckle and threw the pillow she was still holding down on the bed. “Let me help. What is it?”

Frank sighed and yanked his right sleeve up to show her his shoulder, and all the mortification that had been comfortably fading away in his presence came back in full force. She stared dumbly for a few seconds before he turned a degree to his left and she caught sight of the ugly, crimson gash that ran from the back of his tricep to the top of his shoulder. “Jesus, Frank! Mention this shit first!” she cried, rushing to him. “What happened?”

He grimaced. “Turned my back for one second and a patient grabbed the scalpel off my tray and slashed. I’m angrier about the scrubs, to be honest. FIGS ain’t cheap.” He plopped himself down on the bed and looked up at her. “It’s not bad, really, I just can’t reach it to dress it myself. Would you mind?”

No, Man Who is Colloquially Referred to Around the Hospital as Dr. Dreamboat, no, I would not mind patching you up even a bit. She cleared her throat, trying to muster all her calm and competence, and said, “I’m not sure this hospital accepts your insurance, Mr. Langdon.” Frank grinned while pulling his sleeve up once more and holding it in place so she could access the wound.

“My work,” he groaned. “They got me on the worst plan possible. Acts of God are about the only thing they cover, so if anyone asks, God stabbed me.”

Her laugh surprised her. It wasn’t nervous; it was loud and probably obnoxious and it made Frank beam even more widely. She dashed over to the nurse’s supply station and requisitioned a wound care kit. When she reentered the room, she was horrified to discover that Frank had given up on holding his scrub shirt out of the way and had opted to pull the whole thing off. He was, thank heaven, wearing a white tank undershirt, and sat waiting for her expectantly. She took the second before he realized she had reentered the room to ogle as much as her professionalism and casual friendship would allow.

The sound of the alcohol swab’s packaging tearing echoed through the awkwardly quiet room. “Is it gonna hurt?” Frank whispered, making his eyes huge. She wanted to tell him to shut up.

“Shut up, just stay still,” she said, more thankful than she’d ever been that there was a layer of blue latex between her and the person she was patching’s skin. Using quick, dabbing motions to hide her trembling hands worked better than she had hoped. Frank got bored and started fidgeting after about 20 seconds. She had once told him that he needed four more letters added to his MD title: ADHD. It had been the hardest she’d ever seen him laugh, until, of course, he got distracted by something brightly colored in the distance.

He blew a puff of air from his lips and looked around the room. “Soo. Any plans tonight?”

“I was supposed to give the keynote speech at the Annual Best Nurses in the Universe Banquet, but my friend needed help putting a band-aid on, so I missed it,” she deadpanned absently, while opening the bandage and aligning it over the wound. “Are you worried about infection?”

“Not anymore, ‘cause the best nurse in the universe fixed me up real good,” he simpered. He batted his eyelashes up at her and she snorted to hide the smile that she couldn’t stop from appearing. “Um, well, anyway…” Frank began, but then trailed off. His tone had changed.

She was almost scared to ask, “What?” Her fingers smoothed over the bandage, adhering it flush to his arm, and tried to ignore the way she felt every ridge and groove of him. Or maybe she was memorizing.

Frank coughed and shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t working on. “Just…if you ever do have a free night, I mean, after work. Or not!”

She frowned. Whatever he was rambling about took a backseat while she made quick work of cleaning off the tray of supplies. “Again, what?” Her grocery order would be ready for pickup in ten minutes, and she didn’t want to miss the window by getting stuck in the parking garage with the rest of the mass day-shift exodus.

“Jesus, do you wanna go out with me?” Her eyebrows shot skyward as she whipped around to face him. “I’m sorry!” He immediately jumped up. “I wasn’t snapping at you, I mean, I was snapping, for sure, but at myself because I couldn’t just…cough it up. It’s taken me, what, like three years?”

He had a sheepish look on his face, and couldn’t seem to hold eye contact with her anymore. Three years. Three years? Three years was how long she had known him. Every last drop of nerve, embarrassment, confusion, attraction all threatened to bubble up in her stomach. She slammed the tray down on the counter next to the sink.

The reality of her feelings finally hit her full force, and she decided to acknowledge them for the first time in front of that serial stabber God and Frank and everyone: “I think I really like you, Frank.” It was easier than she could have imagined to say it, at last. Especially now, that he’d gone and taken their flirting to its natural conclusion.

“Well I know I really like you,” he replied, a grin spreading as rapidly as the elation that was filling her chest so tight she thought she might start floating away.

“You fucking doctors, you always have to come out on top, don’t you?”

Frank reached for her hand from the bed and tugged her to him. She stood between his legs, which were dangling off the bed, kicking back and forth like a kid who just got told that school would be ending three hours early on the sunniest afternoon of the year. “That remains to be seen,” he muttered up at her, his blue eyes a lot softer than his tone was suggesting, and she swatted him on the forehead for being so presumptuous before leaning down and kissing the stupid smile straight off his lips. Langdon groaned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down and onto the bed.

“Shit, we–” It was hard to get words out when Frank chased after her lips every time she pulled them away. And she had never been good at saying no to him. “We really should not be doing this in here.”

He agreed by putting his hand on the back of her head so he could kiss her even more deeply. “Definitely shouldn’t,” he hummed into her mouth. “Could get caught. Could get fired.” Frank pulled away fully and she took the opportunity to gulp down some air into her neglected and giddy lungs. “Wait, will you still go out with me if I’m not a doctor?” “I’d rather you were ortho, but–”

“Don’t piss me off, baby.” But they were both giggling the same, stupid way they did when they exchanged jokes and insults. Only this time, she was kneeling on one leg in front of him on a freshly-made hospital bed, her other leg slung over his, his strong hand resting on the back of her thigh. Her heart was pounding at a wild rhythm she was not familiar with, and when Frank placed his hands on her waist and pulled her even more flush against his chest, she felt his beating similarly. “I’ve already taken off like half my clothes,” he murmured. “Should we just round up and get rid of the rest?”

“Definitely not,” she admonished through a laugh. “At least take me to get some jello or something first.” Suddenly, she was pushed off his lap and back to a standing position, her legs wobbling like a fawn’s after being folded under her so awkwardly. Frank tugged his scrub shirt back over his head and rose from the bed as well.

“Jello sounds really fucking good right now, good call,” he said, eyes already focused out the door and mapping the quickest route to the cafeteria. She wanted to laugh and cry and put blinders on the hyperactive physician so he kept kissing her until one or both of them died, but she opted instead to push that one strand of hair (the 90’s Leo one, she would later refer to it as) out of his eyes and said,

“You are insufferable.”

Frank shrugged. He grabbed her hand in his, loosely locking their fingers together and leading her out of the room. Her grocery order seemed like the least pressing matter in the world. “You love it!”

She kinda did.

masterlist

#when the fic takes so long to write that worlds have shifted since you started 😐#anyway lmk if more of this is wanted or if we’re all still coping JCODNSKSN #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo fic #frank langdon fic #frank langdon x reader #thepittposting #laneywrites

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mykelneedssleep · 3 days ago

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No cause I actually have so many feelings about this specifically

The first time I read the series it genuinely pissed me off so much that it never got used because Anton Chekhov himself perfectly placed this gun and nobody fucking fired it. Unfortunately, I have since reread the series a few times and I have really come to love the fact that that particular gun was never fired because in a way the lack of purpose in the end is its purpose.

Neil spends so much time and effort throughout the series obsessing over it and protecting it because for years that binder and all the money and contacts inside it kept Nathaniel Wesninski alive. Particularly after his mom died, the binder was literally the only thing standing between him and death, the only thing that protected him. But in the end, it's useless because in the end he's not Nathaniel Wesninski, he's Neil Josten, and he's been Neil Josten from the start, and Neil Josten doesn't need that binder to protect him because he has Wymack and Andrew and Jean and the rest of the Foxes and that's enough. In the end, he doesn't need the binder to protect himself because he has plenty of people who are more than willing to protect him in its place so it’s very much a point that solidifies his position as Neil within the book instead of Nathaniel

At the same time though, I am still miffed about it not being used. You mean to tell me Stuart just happened to show up at the perfect time to stop an execution he didn't even know was happening? That's actually insane. Particularly because the gun was sitting right fucking there the whole time. More accurately, it wasn't even sitting there, Andrew already had it in his hand he just had to figure out how to get the safety off and I have full confidence that he could've done that. Even though he didn't understand it at the time he read the whole thing in the first book. I don't have an eidetic memory but if I saw shit like that it would be on my mind constantly and what better things does Andrew have to spend his time thinking about than trying to figure out Neil? Literally the whole fucking thing has just been floating around in his head bouncing off ideas and solutions left and right. He's probably been mentally unravelling this thing for months now, and he wouldn't have known what to look for on the number page because it could be anything, but he knew something important was buried in there (and he very well may have figured out that it was a phone number already), he probably already had a hundred solutions to that page and only one missing piece of information. But even if he didn't figure it out in time to do anything in Baltimore he's definitely got it now. You think that boy wouldn't want a way to contact Stuart just in case anything happened to Neil again? You're actually joking.

you know what I will stay silent no longer. the biggest missed opportunity in the original TFC trilogy is Neil’s binder not becoming vital in the end. it was so well set up and then led to nothing. Neil has a binder with information about his father and codes for contacts that he can use to get him out of dire circumstances (specifically Stuart’s number). Neil is obsessed with hiding and securing this binder. Neil grows to trust Andrew and just a couple of scenes before Binghamton, tells Andrew about Stuart existing. what SHOULD have happened next is that out of paranoia over the countdown, Neil takes his binder with him to the game in his duffle. gets kidnapped. Andrew finds the bag and remembers that Neil dropped that Stuart’s number is somewhere in that binder. Andrew breaks the code (which uses Neil’s birth name, which only Andrew (and Kevin) knows). THAT’S what get’s Stuart to intervene and save Neil. Not the fact that Stuart just randomly happened to be working with the FBI that night to take down Nathan.

#this is in fact me looking too deep into it because i can't be normal about anything ever #thank you for coming to my TEDtalk #also if you saw me edit this to add the bottom part no you didn't #I had it in the tags originally and I kept going back to edit it because I had another thought and it ended up being too much so I moved it #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #all for the game

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queenendless · 3 days ago

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*°◇■¤ SHAPE OF YOU ¤■◇°*

A/n: Yeah the same English VA voiced all these dudes, and his B-Day is TODAY!

Tbh though, I wanna take a break from this one sided infatuated hellhole I dug myself into and write for other series again, that aren't dubbed with him in it. The irony of me saying that when I wrote this of all things. I ❤️ that madman though. Ah, the mess of a crush!

Pairing: Adult! Makoto, Anos, Jiji, Mash, Nagumo, Mikey, Lighter, Jinwoo, Ryoji X Fem!Adult!Reader.

CW: SPOILERS FOR ALL THE FANDOMS INVOLVED SO BE PREPARED.

Characters aged up 21+. Isekaied reader. All shows coexist in this anime world AU.

SFW and NSFW CONTENT INVOLVED. Kinda headcanons/daily life with the various tagged dudes, mushy fluffy romance with eventual brief short smut. Voice kink, lovesick/lovestruck reader, reverse harem vibes.

Getting reborn in a world choked full of anime characters would be any weeb’s greatest dream. Your inner wish finally gets granted, at last!

So many cameos, easter eggs, references serving the overstimulation you craved.

Urban dystopia, cyberpunk, fantasy, and even classic and modern day Japan structures this conglomeration that is the capital of this anime city in this anime world.

In one way or another, you yourself seek out such dashing men that all had their unique quirks and styles straight out of the gate. Even in this new life they still hold a place in your heart.

Unlike most leads in reverse harem stories, you wanted to embrace this fantasy. Your lovesick self literally gave off such an intense lovestruck aura as is. You crave that kind of affection and attention, in this life as the last.

Someway, somehow, it worked.

Your bois … them dudes … ah what a lineup.

Mash, the magicless exercise buff, secretly likes you watching him doing weight lifts with one hand and eating cream puffs with the other. While workouts with him are more casual, he still appreciates you wanting to bond over it, inspiring him to do his push ups and sit ups with you kissing him when his face gets close enough as his motivation and reward. That and sharing slash feeding each other cream puffs together whenever you get the chance.

“You don't have to dote on me so much. Even without magic, I will use all of my strength to keep you safe. And bake cream puffs for you every day. I'll dote on you all to show you just how much you mean to me.”

Jiji, the goofy quirky red-head that he is, despite the Evil Eye yokai of hatred using him as its vessel, slowly but surely wormed his way into your heart. The stupid jokes paired with those face expressions laced with the boundless energy he has despite the hell he's been through grew on you over time until his beaming smile got you turning to mush. Being able to wind down and relax when he started gaining control over his alternate self, taking naps with you got you being the big spoon for this cutie. Cuddles are inevitable.

“Your laugh is infectious. Getting you to smile is my daily goal. It really does make my day. Gets me smiling every single time. I never want this feeling to end. So let's have more bright filled days ahead together, Y/n~”

Lighter, the red scarfed honor bound Champion, rightfully won your heart with his protective romantic dorky self. Meeting each other through your shared friends that are legendary Proxies, you become entangled in each other's lives. Giving you rides on his motorbike went from convenient transport to enjoying the scenic drive together. Sharing some Nitro Fuel together as he quipped out some dorky puns all to make you smile. You keep him grounded in return. Kissing every single scar his past left him with, being able to let down his walls and be open with you, it all means so much.

“You can count on me to get the job done. Whatever it is, whenever you need me, I'm there. I'll fight for you until my dying breath. Hey now, don't cry. I'm not going anywhere. Not for a long time.”

Anos, the misfit that is the Demon King of Tyranny, exudes natural charm and strength that is indeed OP. Building bridges, ending divides, bringing everyone united in a new age for his descendants. So of course the strapping reincarnated man bewitched you as well. Sure he has his own group of comrades on the side – a harem in a sense from others perspective – but from his self awareness, you have an actual harem. He was amused, intrigued even, that you would see him as another potential mate, so he humored you. His parents were more than welcoming to meet a bride he wouldn't mind marrying one day. You're just that interesting to him.

“Did you really think that just because I was part of your little court, that I would be outdone by my competition? I'll be as savage as well as benevolent to my rivals. Why am I going along with it? Well … I'm enthralled by you, my lovely human.”

Nagumo, one of the strongest assassins there is, would deem crossing paths with you during a mission not as a coincidence but as fate. He felt light as a feather, walking on air, as he made small talk with you after finishing his tasks for the day, that elated smile that came with blood stains. The fact that you reciprocate his assassin lifestyle had the arrow of love striking him true, mirroring Sakamoto's reason for leaving the Order all to be with his own special someone. Introducing you to said former comrade at his convenience store came soon after.

“Getting close to me will put you at risk, no doubt. And I barely have time to see you as it is due to my job. But I'll gladly kill anyone that dares harm a hair on your pretty little head. I really like you, after all.”

Mikey, the leader of his own biker group, can be quite the handful. Being overprotective about keeping his family, blood bound and found, you were no exception. He'd do anything for you, day or night. He is as loyal as he is a kid at heart. He wears his heart on his sleeve in your honest opinion. Giving him PDA really lifts his spirits; loved fill squeezing hugs, smooching him senseless, and being a shoulder to cry on for those tough days.

“Oi. I'm grateful to you. Ya know that, right? When this city sees delinquents in a better life through the Tokyo Manji Gang, my brother's dream will finally become a reality. And I hope you'll be by my side when that happens. I can't imagine anything else worthwhile.”

Jinwoo, an E-rank hunter reawakened to become the next Shadow Monarch took the world and beyond by storm, sweeping all off their feet. Slaying magic beasts all around you to show off his growing strength and speed. Saving those that are genuinely worth it helped balance the OP aura he gave, winning your heart in his favor. Seeing his former self in you brought out his overprotectiveness, aiding in winning him over in turn. This Ruler rather carry you princess style himself than his shadow generals.

“We've both been at the bottom. But while I've been fortunate to have agency and power to lead a better life, you haven't been so lucky. If you wouldn't mind, I want to look after you. I … I care about you. Very much. I want to be there for you like you have been for me.”

Ryoji, the Appraiser of Nyx herself, could not believe it himself. He was back together with his friends, making new memories with this second chance. And he had you to thank for that. The anomaly that is many worlds meshing together to create this one has you literally radiating at its core, having him hone in on you. You're an angel in his eyes. Hence, serenading on the piano for you, affectionately swaying you over with his wise words about embracing life to the fullest, and wrapping his scarf around you for you both to share. You got Death wrapped around your finger.

“I didn't expect to be in the presence of an angel, yet here you are. Knowing you had a hand in making all this possible, allow me to thank you personally. Beneath this moon, beside this sea, will you share one dance with me?”

Makoto, the savior literally tied to Death itself, willingly gave up his life to save his world from the literal end. In this alternate life, he too had been given another chance to live a long life. And like his close friend, he gets drawn to your presence. But unlike the former, you're the affectionate one. Petting him, sharing headphones in exchange for letting him rest against you, even looking unto his big blue eyes had him blushing and ducking his head in embarrassment. This silent loner boi is not immune to your smitteness.

“You're strange. Putting yourself out there … because you like me? Sorry. I've had admirers before, but I've never wanted to ruin those friendships. So why …? Maybe Ryoji was right. You're like a kindred soul to us … to me. We've all died yet came back. All to meet one another. I've dealt with stranger things … but I don't mind. You, that is. I mean it.”

While they were all different, the similarities when it comes to their bond with you are all there.

Shaking their warm calloused hands, no other kind of handshake could ever hope to top it.

Those marvelous eyes fascinate you.

Their modest encouragement sends your heart ablaze.

The many things they do to make each day easier, comfy, worthwhile.

Their fingers rubbing sensually along your cranium down to your tense neck. Massaging the rest of your stressed sore body followed suit. Of course they'd flex for you as you return the kind act, giving their lean builds love bites and smooches in the process.

Your drained hum of thanks reaches their ears as you use their lap as your pillow. They would do the same if they're too drained to go to bed or they need your presence to cheer them up for whatever reason.

Their hand brushes through your hair strands, pushing them aside to trail along your flushed cheek, causing it to darken further because it's their touch.

Many times you fall asleep against them, whether leaning into their side or using their lap as a pillow, it always ends with them rearranging yourselves to sleep on the couch together with you on top on them or they carry you to bed and keeps you in their arms still as you cuddle amid la la land.

Their laughter, whether deep or light, is a musical score you cherish to hear much more.

Lounging together with you sitting up against his front, your legs in between his own, his arms wrapped around you, he held the console controller in your lap with his hands overlapping yours as you played whatever video games piqued both your interests.

Spotting you squeezing the life out of chibi plush doll versions of themselves always brought out their envy. But it was your comfort whenever you couldn't hug their real life counterparts due to work or any other occupying situations. But you do get the chance to see them again, cuddles and kisses come in tenfold.

Even being able to spend time with them along with their comrades and friends always ends up with you staying glued by their side.

Days turned to weeks and then months, for each passing moment you were interweaving a web of bonds that got you attached to these fine nine beings.

For they share the same voice.

God that voice …

Such versatility and tenor. So sultry, sensual, and sexy all at once. It should be a crime to sound that fine. Of course it will slide. That kind of voice times nine. Like a soul split into nine sublime forms.

Comforting words. Encouragement. Goofy impressions. The puns. Saying your name. Pet Names. Any and every word. You could never get enough.

Then there are the salacious moments.

Them whispering in your ears to utter any and all such things. Dirty, romantic, primal. Whatever suited the mood. Whichever made you both comfortable.

“Does my voice really make you come that much? Interesting~”

That exact sentence would become like a motto – a slogan perhaps – to these guys. Teasing you in that tempo and timbre all to make you melt. Never letting you live it down.

“The ways in which you talk to me~”

Your own tease earned you being pushed up against the wall, your free hand supporting you since your other hand was pinned behind your back. His free hand grasped your chin, tilting your face around all to devour you. Just one of many scenarios that play out between you and your many partners.

Your first time with each of them is equally special, ingrained into your mind and your core.

Whether decent or long, wide or thick, so much variety with every cock that stuffs up your needy pussy.

Smooth and sly or sculpted and rough are such fingers that get to touch you, trace patterns along your sensitive flesh.

To pinch and rub your pearls, leaving love bites on every inch of you to remind one another who you belong to.

Fondling and massaging your frame, suckling on your stretch marks along your fine as fuck dumpy, stuffing their fingers in both your mouths to lather up your essence, licking from your ass crack to your clit.

They all share the intoxicating crave for your addictive taste, devouring your cunt for hours on end, their faces squished between your quivering sweaty thighs, their noses buried in your pubic hair while they're sloppily making out as their dexterous fingers and skillful tongues went to work on having you come so many times.

Missionary, backshots, the mating press, against the wall, on the floor, across tables and couches, even on the roof — when there's a will there's a way.

They love replacing the pearls around your neck …

Titty fucking. Throat fucking. Ejaculating all over your sweaty sheen self. Jacking off through your thighs, your peachy hills, all to tease you so close to edge yet striving to be within you.

Of course, they let you have your way with them in kind. Their egos and hearts soar as you claim them, the bite marks and bruising sucks litter their lean firm vessels to match yours. The tattoos, the scars, those get you showering smooches like mad.

Whether hugging their waist or throwing them over their shoulders, they love to rub and grip your legs enough for fingertips to be left behind as your latch onto them is ironclad.

Weaving hands through each other's haphazard hair while tugging on them hair strands roughly amiss lust, interlocking their hands with yours that need that tether to keep hold onto through the hectic ride of orgasmic paradise.

Massaging your ever tight gummy caverns all to see your expressions of vulnerable passion, falling apart easily while stuffing their cream in you, hitting that sizzling bundle of nerves all to tip you over the edge.

Those feral groans, them unhinged moans, such breathless cries of euphoria with your name reading such a crescendo off their swollen wet mouths as they could never get enough of your vice grip firm enough to leave their fingerprints behind.

Your curling, squirming self crying and breathless as creamy goodness dripped down your valleys, their comforting warm bodies draping over your beautiful self, holding you while the highs of sex would soon calm down.

“Let me fight for you.”

“Laugh with you.”

“Cry with you.”

“Reshape the world for you.”

“Kill for you.”

“Protect you.”

“Rule with you.”

“Live life with you.”

“Love you.”

In this alternate universe, in a world full of vibrant people, with limitless possibilities and potential …

The shape of them — their very existences — ingrained in your type of mate. Partner. Perhaps the shape of their souls are all one in the same. All intense, driven and outrageous.

Maybe because of your preference in your former life. Through their voices all stemming from one. Perhaps your rooted desire for a significant other with that boundless voice created so many options and you finally hit the jackpot.

When the day comes you wake up amongst all nine men strewn about, bare to the bone the same as you, in sheen gleaming ecstasy, soiled sheets and pillows thrown about all over the spacious bedroom, as you smiled all dopey like at those peaceful sleeping dreamboats.

The shape of you might as well be a heart because you too wore it when you're with your favorites.

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next-door-kiddo · 2 days ago

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IMAGINE. dad dressing you up in his fancy clothes. He’s totally always been the sharp-dressed type- tailored slacks, expensive watches, pressed shirts that fit just right.

Today he’s got you in front of the mirror, trying on his clothes as some sort of silly thing you both wanted to do .

“Hold still” he murmurs, guiding your arms through the sleeves of a crisp button-down. His heavy masculine cologne was still lingering on the fabric.

At first, he just adjusts the cuffs, smooths down the fabric, but then… he stills. Takes a step back, brows furrowing.

His tongue swipes over his lower lip as his gaze drags over you. “Jesus kid..” he mutters under his breath, fingers tracing the line of the collar. “You look... so fucking good in my clothes.”

"Yeah?" You looked up at him, meeting his eyes through the mirror, your gaze going soft, lips parting just slightly. That slow, rich voice of his making blood rush down to you soft cock, I mean, that mixed with his hot praise of course... god. It really did always make something warm and needy curl in your stomach. your body was clearly reacting before you could even think.

His gaze dropped, catching the way your thighs shifted, the faintest outline of your growing.. 'problem' pressing against the fabric. That typical 'Dad Smirk' quickly grew across his face

“Aww.. kid..” “Are you getting all hard from dads words?” He reached around you, fingers tracing down your buttoned up chest

Your face turned red with embarrassment. But with the new feeling of sudden raw need pooling in your stomach, you couldn’t even deny it.

“C’mon kiddo, no need to be embarrassed, it's a completely natural reaction” His hands slipping lower, making quick work of your belt. "Hey, dad- wha- what are you doin?" “Hush now baby boy, Dad's just gonna help you out. a bit, that's all”

His big fingers brush against your growing bulge

“See? Look at you” he cooed, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet his gaze in the mirror. “You're so handsome kid, all dressed up for me. So fuckin perfect for your dad”

You swallow thickly, shifting on your feet. He’s so close, his voice so warm and approving it makes your knees feel weak. “It’s just-”

“Just what?” He hums, fingers working the last button through its hole before letting the dress shirt fall open across your chest. “You worried about me being your dad, kiddo? He tsks, shaking his head.

“you're a silly lil kid aren't ya, you do know that all dads do this with their boys right? it's common knowledge.. look, i'll call up my friends right now and you can ask them if ya want” "no- no, I knew it dad, I was just joking around..." He steps closer, now pressing right against your back, letting you really feel the size of him. His hands smooth down your sides. “You're a smart kid” mouth brushing against your ear. “Such a good kid, letting me dress you up so nice. Bet you wanna show me just how much you appreciate it, huh?” "you gonna show dad just how much you love him?"

You nodded quickly. "that's my kiddo" he says with a little purr as he lifts you up onto his shoulders effortlessly. It wasn't even a second before you were placed down onto the bed, facing up to look at him while he crawled ontop of you.. “Now..” he breathes, slipping your slacks just low enough, letting the shirt hang loose off your shoulders. His fingers trailing up your thighs, gripping just firm enough to make you squirm. "now that I got you where I want ya kid, I gotta tell you as your big strong daddo, you look so fuckable right now.

The words send heat rushing through you and he notices, I mean how could he not. The way your legs tense under his grip, the way your chest rises and falls just a little quicker, the way your now stiff cock twitched underneath the fabric of your boxers. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips.

“Aww, you like that, dontcha?” He presses in closer, his weight warm and overwhelming, his large veiny hands exploring his kids body. “Gets you all worked up when Dad tells you how good n' fuckable you look for him"

When he finally reached your waistband, he took his time, His dark eyes stayed locked right on yours as he tugged down the fabric, freeing your now aching, needy cock. The second your cock sprang free his brows lifted in surprise.

“Well, now kiddo” “Didn’t expect you to be packing something like this, must take after your old man"

He wrapped his large fingers around your length, giving it a little squeeze that made you give him a little gasp. you threw our head back, completely embarrassed. “Awww, is my poor boy this sensitive to my touch? Guess I’ll have to take my time with you”

He took this opportunity where you weren't watching to slide back on the bed and dip his head down towards your crotch, warm breath ghosted over your sensitive skin, sending a shiver up your spine. "Wait, Dad- you're not gonna-" you were cut off by the sudden jolt of pleasure that came from your big, strong, 6'3 hunky, built-like-a-tank dad taking your cock into his mouth like those submissive little bratty twinks you'd seen in porn

his soft lips were wrapped so perfectly around you as his tongue lapped at your slit, tasting the first drops of pre-cum your cock had dribbled. Fuck.. He really took his time, sucking gently, letting his tongue tease before slowly sinking down, inch by inch, until his mouth was completely wrapped around your throbbing cock.

Dad came up to take a quick breath “You already twitching kid? Does dads mouth feel that good?” he asked, almost amused at his little kiddos reaction to his first time being sucked. His hand gave your base a firm squeeze as his tongue dragged a long, deliberate stripe from the bottom of your cock to the tip, swirling around the head in teasing little circles. “you're so damn responsive kid… makes me wanna flip you over and slide my dick into that cute lil ass of yours right this second, ya know that? You really get dad all fuckin hot and bothered like this... God, I just wanna ruin you properly, make your first time with dad the best you'll ever have"

Your thighs trembled as dad went right back to servicing your big achey cock. He bobbed his head up and down this time, working up a slow rhythm, his eyes flicking up to watch every shaky breath, every desperate little whimper spilling from your lips. He'd make sure he often moaned around your cock, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine, you nearly sobbed at the sensation.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured as he pulled back, letting your tip rest against his slick lips before pressing a teasing kiss to it.

You whined at the sudden lack of pleasure.

“Don’t worry, Kiddo I’m just getting started.”

His big hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still as he swallowed more of you down, letting you feel the tight, wet heat of his throat inch by inch. You could barely breathe, barely think, lost in the way your own fucking dad's mouth worked you over.

Your back arched as a shaky moan slipped from your lips, your breath stuttering when he dipped lower, taking more of you into his mouth. His tongue worked you over with deliberate, wet strokes, tracing every vein, every sensitive spot, like he was savoring every inch of you.

“Fuck- s’too good dad” you whimpered, voice all breathy.

Every muscle in your body tensed, the pleasure too overwhelming, too much. His mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking and stroking in all the right places, sucking you down with obscene, sloppy, wet noises.

Your breath sped up, your fingers flying to his hair, gripping tight as your thighs trembled. “Shi-shit, f-fuck, I’m cumming, I-I can’t- ahhh!”

A filthy cry tore from your lips as your orgasm hit very suddenly and god did it hit hard, white-hot and dizzying. Dad's large hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still as he buried his face between them, swallowing you down to the base. His throat constricted around you, taking every rope you shot, drinking it down like it was the best thing he'd ever had.

You were still cumming- your body jerking, overstimulated, little whines spilling from your lips as your dad kept your full cock deep in his warm throat. When he finally pulled off with a filthy pop, the last few spurts in your balls emptied out, painting his lips and his chin.

He licked a stray drop from the corner of his mouth, gazing up at you with a satisfied smirk. “What. a. mess. kiddo” voice still all thick and husky. He move closer towards you and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your heated skin. “C’mere… lemme kiss you kid, you were so good for dad"

His mouth was on you before you could respond, warm and wet, his tongue sliding against yours- you were tasting yourself on him as he deepened the kiss. It was so fucking filthy and slow, like he was claiming you. You melted into it, too spent to do anything but let him invade your mouth. pulling away with a sloppy wet pop, little strings of cum and saliva connecting you lips for a second, he gripped your waist and flipped you over "Atta boy... now c'mon, on you hands and knees, Dad's gotten all worked up over sucking that big kiddo dick, it's time for dad to get his rocks off too, understand son?"

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shikaizer · 12 hours ago

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IN FOR IT. P.B X READER

summary : you have been eyeing your brothers bestfriend, Paige Bueckers, even so she hates you with all her guts and has no zero plan on hiding it you wanted to know how the overwhelming needs unfold between the two of you.

warning : degration, cussing, weed, drgs, alcohol, high, suggestive.

a/n : i decided to make this a fic and not a series anymore

Paige was your brothers bestfriend. always hanging out whenever the chance she gets, they either play some shit ass game or play basketball in your small court, but they always end up in the living room hands on console.

You really never had any issue with her being always around, but you had no choice but to be, if your minding your business she would just pick on every SINGLE thing that you do, if you would dip in on whatever thing they're so busy at, she would tell you to fucking leave AT YOUR OWN HOUSE.

Her specific behaviour that is obviously directed at you is so weird and confusing meanwhile with others shes so nice and all fluffy.

but when it comes to you, she gets all fused up and annoyed, even when a small single sight of strand of your hair just triggers a eye roll and a curse under her breath.

your brother on the other side was a coward, he hated the fact paige hates you aside, from him idolizing the damn girl so much he never thought of your feelings, but he always reminds you that you should never get close to paige, maybe, it all started when paige joked on 'fucking you all her strength' and this enraged you brother.

after that, he made sure that you never show up with anything short when paige is around.

Its one of these days again where your at your own living room and paige just barge in without your brother in sight.

once she saw you sitting down licking a popsicle in a suggestive way, she raised her eyebrows."what are you even doing here?" paige rolled her eyes as she starts making her way to the couch as if wanting you to fucking leave."because this is my house?" you asked as if she was stupid, and she scoffed.

"go to your room or something" she shrugged placing her hands on her hips as if she had just offered her own home to you."wow so thoughtful paige."

a mocking grin is plastered on your face, her eyes is scanning your figure up and down swallowing a lump on her throat."what are you even doing here so early? my brothers not even here yet."

you stated annoyed as your arms is now crossed, she rolled her eyes again and took a last glance at a certain area and looked away.

"what are you wearing?" her voice became more quieter and you shooked your head down and back at her "clothes?" you response playfully but she wasn't fazed.

all your wearing is a oversized t shirt and that was all actually, but in your defense you thought your were home alone, but paige just popped up

"you know that all of us are basically hitting your brother's house tonight right?" she asked as if shes taking authority on what you should wear and you scoffed.

"whatever." you put out your tounge and walked away leaving her in the living room. "hey wait." paige got your hand pulling you to her leaving a small distance between you.

"you gon join us later?" you raised your eyebrows unable to confirm what she meant and you remembered the party your brother is going to throw later. "yeah.. i wouldn't if my ass brother wont suck me through'' a light chuckle left her lips but quickly dropped her face as she didn't wanna show any amusement right now.

"bet you'd flirt with all of the guys later" she cocked her head and you start to feel annoyed and the way shes viewing you as a somewhat whore. "fuck you paige" you muttured and she clicked her tounge shaking her head walking closer to you something in her eyes thats making you feel sense something.

"what?" confused by the sudden closeness chest pressed together her hand starts to caress the side of your hips feeling the hem of your panties while your shirt slightly raised.

"i mean, looking like a total slut right now? bet your feeling itchy at this moment" she gave a cocky grin and you are quick to swat your palm across her face.

she hissed under her breath and was quick to laugh hiding the fact that your hand hit her whole cheeks. "shit such a heavy hand." she tilt her head to meet your eye and you rolled your eyes.

finally breaking the tension, your stupid brother swing open the door with a few friends who had a plastic bag in their hand, you groaned and gave paige a one last look before heading to your room.

The party was full of thrill, you meant it, thrill. the house was basically full of weeds, and white powders, lots of wasted outside your house, and the blasting music that makes your heart sync in the beat.

your head is resting on the back of the couch, you cant lie, but your totally wasted, but your still good enough to think straight, its just that your head feels like its spinning, but you defienately are in the right mind.

you grunted when you felt a arm stretch along the back of the couch. "wasted already?" you recognized the shitty chuckle and you rather be high right now than deal with her. "you good?" she ask more like a cocky way and you scoffed. "do i look like im fucking okay? please just fuck off" you snapped and she shrugged.

"why would i? this is a party after all im free to do whatever—" paige stated making it seem like your the stupid one and shes the brainy one.

"kay— whatever, just go fuck some random chicks there or what" squeezing your eyes shut pinching your temple and you feel her warmness radiating on your body.

"found one actually" she confidentally said and you fall out a quick baffled smile. "seriously, this one's pretty high though" she caressed your thighs and you shot your eyes open looking up at her, both your eyes meeting and you felt your cheeks heat up.

you laughed it off and shaked your head. "bet you dont even know how to fuck "

"oh you think so?" she raised her eyebrows leaning closer to you, now that you realized viewing a closer look on her face, she was pretty drunk, cheeks heated up, eyes slightly droopy and the way her body language gets suggestive.

"i know so." you spat and she nodded lips curling higher. "let me show you again then."

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velvetvisionsaurora · 3 days 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.

Want to be notified when a chapter is updated? Join the Taglist!

Authors note: I was going to post this tomorrow but honestly I couldn’t wait. The banter between Wooyoung and Yeosang is one of favorite parts of this story, I love writing it! Enjoy! And get ready for the next chapter! The big moment is coming! 💜

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

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Masterlist

Chapter 8

Hidden Currents

Morning in the ATEEZ's galley was chaotic but organized. Crew members grabbed quick meals before their daily duties instead of sitting down for formal dining. Unlike the officers' mess with its scheduled mealtimes, the main galley stayed open all day to work with the ship's various watch schedules.

Ella paused in the doorway, feeling a bit out of place in the casual atmosphere after her previous meals in the more formal officers' dining room. Pirates in various states of wakefulness sat at scattered tables, some clearly just ending night watch while others were getting ready for day duties. The conversations flowing around the room suggested these people were more like a family than just workers on the same ship.

What caught her eye was how officers and regular crew mixed freely. There was no special seating or service for officers - everyone helped themselves from the same food stations. Seonghwa sat at a corner table with navigation charts spread in front of him, eating absently while making calculations. Two gunners talked with Mingi by the drink station, looking serious enough that they were probably planning something rather than just chatting.

"Ella!" Wooyoung's voice cut through the noise. "Come in! Breakfast is casual today—we're too busy for sit-down service."

He waved enthusiastically from behind a serving counter where he seemed to be cooking three different things at once. Several assistants moved around him in well-practiced patterns that somehow worked despite the apparent chaos.

As she approached, Wooyoung kept cooking while chattering away. "The captain's dealing with some tricky currents today, so everyone's grabbing food when they can. Help yourself to whatever looks good—bread's fresh, and we have actual eggs today, thanks to that merchant ship that should have surrendered faster."

The casual mention of piracy—delivered with the same enthusiasm as his menu suggestions—caught Ella off guard. Even after days aboard the ATEEZ, she was still surprised by how easily these men blended violence and everyday life, how the feared pirate ship also felt like a community.

"Thank you," she said, taking the plate Wooyoung pushed toward her. "Everything looks amazing."

"Of course it does," he agreed without a hint of modesty. "Food matters even more on fighting days—might be someone's last meal, so it should be good."

The dark joke, delivered cheerfully rather than grimly, reminded Ella that despite its unusual culture, the ATEEZ was still a vessel of calculated violence—feared throughout the seas, its black sails striking terror wherever they appeared.

As she gathered food from the available options, Ella noticed Yeosang entering the galley, his face composed despite the morning chaos. He nodded slightly to various crew members as he walked directly to the medicinal tea station near Wooyoung's cooking area.

"You're up early considering your late night," Wooyoung called to him, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Midnight medicine mixing again?"

Yeosang's neutral expression didn't change, though Ella—watching carefully after their reunion hours earlier—noticed the slight tension that appeared in his shoulders at Wooyoung's teasing reference to nocturnal activities.

"Inventory requirements," he replied blandly, selecting specific herbs with practiced efficiency. "Unlike some, my work benefits from methodical organization rather than chaotic improvisation.

"Chaotic?" Wooyoung clutched his chest in theatrical offense, somehow managing to continue stirring a large pot with his free hand. "This is carefully orchestrated creative genius, I'll have you know."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Yeosang deadpanned, his tone perfectly neutral despite the subtle barb. "I thought it was simply randomized ingredient selection based on whatever hasn't spoiled yet."

Several nearby crew members snickered at the familiar banter, clearly accustomed to this dynamic between ship's cook and doctor. Wooyoung's exaggerated gasp of indignation only heightened the comedic effect, his natural dramatic flair turning routine morning interaction into entertainment.

"Randomized? Me?" He gestured wildly with a wooden spoon, narrowly missing one of his assistants who ducked with practiced ease. "Everything I create is precisely calibrated for maximum nutritional and morale benefit. Tell him, Ella—wasn't yesterday's breakfast a masterpiece of culinary precision?"

Suddenly drawn into their exchange, Ella found herself momentarily caught between Wooyoung's expectant gaze and Yeosang's carefully neutral expression. The dynamic between them fascinated her—Wooyoung's effusive animation deliberately drawing reaction from Yeosang's controlled reserve, the contrast creating balance rather than conflict.

"The cinnamon wheels were exceptional," she offered diplomatically. "Though I lack comparative experience with your other creations."

"Ha!" Wooyoung exclaimed triumphantly. "Even our newest passenger recognizes culinary excellence when she tastes it."

Yeosang's expression remained impassive, though Ella noticed the slight softening around his eyes that constituted amusement in his restricted emotional display. "Recognition of quality and recognition of spectacle are not necessarily the same thing," he observed mildly.

"Spectacle?" Wooyoung's voice rose dramatically as he waved both arms, abandoning all pretense of continued cooking. "Is that what you call feeding this entire crew of ungrateful pirates three times daily? Creating meals that keep morale high during weeks at sea? Transforming basic provisions into feasts that make even the captain smile?"

His theatrical indignation expanded with each statement, body language growing increasingly expansive until he resembled a performer rather than ship's cook. Several crew members paused their own conversations to watch the familiar entertainment, evident amusement in their expressions.

Throughout Wooyoung's escalating performance, Yeosang continued calmly preparing his medicinal tea, his methodical movements contrasting sharply with the cook's animated gestures. Yet something in his careful precision suggested deliberate participation rather than mere tolerance—as if his controlled reserve provided necessary counterpoint to Wooyoung's exuberance.

"Your creative approach has merit in appropriate contexts," Yeosang conceded with clinical precision, measuring herbs with the same careful attention he would give to potent medicines. "Though I maintain that consistency and methodology produce more reliable results than spontaneous inspiration."

"Consistency?" Wooyoung scoffed, dramatically flourishing a ladle like a conductor's baton. "Do you know what happens with too much consistency, my methodical friend? The same meal, day after day, until the crew starts eyeing seagulls with hunger and contemplating mutiny."

"Methodical doesn't mean monotonous," Yeosang countered, not looking up from his preparations. "It means intentional rather than accidental."

Wooyoung gasped, clutching his heart as though mortally wounded. "Accidental? You think my culinary masterpieces are accidents?" He gestured expansively at the various dishes arrayed across the serving counter. "This, my skeptical friend, is what we call 'intuitive genius.' Something your rigidly organized mind cannot possibly comprehend."

Yeosang finally looked up, his expression betraying the faintest hint of amusement only Ella could recognize from their childhood. "Is that what we're calling the incident with the exploding dumplings last month? Intuitive genius?"

A chorus of laughter erupted from nearby crew members, several calling out supportive comments or making explosion gestures with their hands. Clearly, the dumpling incident was well-known throughout the ship.

"That was a CONTROLLED flavor release!" Wooyoung protested, pointing his ladle accusingly at various laughing crew members. "And every single one of you still ate them, I might add!"

"After they stopped raining from the ceiling," someone called from across the galley.

"And we scraped them off the walls," added another sailor.

"The medical bay treated three burns and one concussion," Yeosang noted dryly. "Your 'controlled flavor release' required more bandages than our last skirmish with the Royal Navy."

Wooyoung swiveled toward Ella, who was watching this exchange with growing amusement. "You see what I deal with? No appreciation for culinary innovation aboard this ship of critics!"

Ella was silently giggling. She looked to her side seeing Yunho already watching her with a soft smile. He gestured to the two bickering and shook his head in feigned exasperation. "Like an old married couple," Yunho mouthed to her, causing a wider smile from her much to Yunho's delight.

Ella turned back to the bickering pair.

"The captain appreciated it," Yeosang deadpanned. "Especially when a dumpling landed directly in his navigation charts. I believe his exact words were 'tactically unprecedented.'"

"It was a difficult nautical element to chart," Wooyoung defended, struggling to maintain his indignant expression as his own laughter threatened to break through. "The captain now has the only sea chart in existence with a dumpling-shaped island in the western strait."

"Which is apparently creating significant navigational challenges," Yeosang continued, his delivery perfectly serious despite the absurdity. "Seonghwa reports that we keep sailing in circles trying to find it."

"It's a migratory dumpling island," Wooyoung declared, completely abandoning his cooking to fully embrace the ridiculous narrative. "It only appears during certain lunar phases and can only be summoned with the proper culinary incantations."

He dramatically raised his hands above his head, wooden spoon pointed skyward like a wizard's staff. In a deep, theatrically mystical voice, he intoned: "By the power of excessive garlic and questionable fermentation techniques, I summon thee, Sacred Island of Explosive Dumplings!"

"Please don't," Yeosang sighed, though his eyes betrayed the faintest crinkle of amusement. "Im still exhausted from the aftermath of the last Wooyoung 'summoning.'"

"The casualties were worth it," Wooyoung insisted, now fully committed to his performance. He turned to Ella, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "Yeosang's just upset because one dumpling flew directly into his meticulously organized medicine cabinet and rearranged his alphabetical system into what I maintain was a more intuitive categorical framework."

"It spelled 'chaos' in three different languages," Yeosang corrected. "And required four hours to properly sanitize."

"It was a message from the culinary gods!" Wooyoung declared, spinning in a dramatic circle with his arms extended. "They were telling you to embrace spontaneity!"

"They were telling me to invest in stronger cabinet locks," Yeosang countered, finishing his tea preparation with the same calm precision he'd maintained throughout their exchange.

Wooyoung clutched his chest again, staggering dramatically as though mortally wounded. "Such cruelty from our ship's healer! This is why pirates have a reputation for scurvy—medical professionals with no appreciation for culinary artistry!"

Without missing a beat, Yeosang picked up a small orange from a nearby fruit basket and tossed it directly at Wooyoung, who caught it with surprising dexterity despite his theatrical flailing.

"Vitamin C," Yeosang stated flatly. "Medicine's contribution to culinary health. No explosions required."

"Unless you're doing it wrong," Wooyoung quipped, immediately juggling the orange with two apples he snatched from the same basket. "Everything is more interesting with a little danger involved."

As he juggled with impressive skill, he began tossing the fruits higher and higher, his expression one of exaggerated concentration. "Observe the controlled chaos of true culinary mastery!"

Just as the juggling reached its peak, the ship pitched slightly with a wave. One apple went off course, bouncing off Wooyoung's forehead before he could catch it. His expression of complete surprise, combined with his theatrical gasp of betrayal as he pointed accusingly at the fallen fruit, was so perfectly comical that Ella couldn't contain herself any longer.

The laugh burst from her unexpectedly—not the careful, controlled chuckle she sometimes permitted herself in social situations, but a genuine, unrestrained sound of pure amusement. It rang through the galley, surprising even herself with its intensity and freedom.

The room seemed to pause for a fraction of a second, several nearby crew members glancing toward the unfamiliar sound. Wooyoung froze mid-gesture, the remaining fruit forgotten in his hands as he stared at her with undisguised delight. Even Yeosang paused, his normally impassive expression softening into something like satisfaction. Even he had only heard her genuine laugh once in all the time they spent together.

Ella immediately tried to compose herself, years of conditioned restraint making her self-conscious about such unguarded expression. But Wooyoung, sensing the moment's importance, immediately doubled down on his performance.

"The apple!" he cried, pointing dramatically at the fruit rolling across the floor. "It's escaping to join its brethren in the mythical Orchard of Wayward Produce! Quick! Someone stop it before it convinces the oranges to mutiny!"

The absurdity broke through her composure again, and Ella found herself laughing even harder, one hand pressed against her mouth in a futile attempt to contain the unfamiliar sound.

Across the galley, she caught sight of Yunho and Mingi pausing in their conversation, both watching her with expressions that mirrored Wooyoung's delight—Yunho's open and warm, Mingi's subtle but unmistakable. Even Seonghwa had looked up from his charts, his analytical gaze softening as he observed her unguarded moment.

"You see?" Wooyoung declared triumphantly to Yeosang, gesturing toward Ella with obvious satisfaction. "This is why spontaneity trumps methodology! When was the last time someone laughed like that over properly measured tea leaves?"

"Enjoyment and medicinal efficacy serve different purposes," Yeosang replied, though his tone lacked its usual clinical detachment. "Though occasionally they can complement each other."

As her laughter finally subsided, Ella felt strangely lightened, as if some tightly-wound spring within her had loosened slightly. The sensation was unfamiliar after fifteen years of careful self-control, yet somehow reminiscent of childhood moments aboard The Crimson Serpent when Wooyoung had first taught her to laugh silently to avoid unwanted attention.

Now, surrounded by the ATEEZ's crew—men feared throughout maritime waters for precision and ruthlessness—she had laughed openly for the first time since captivity had taught her the danger of unguarded expression.

"I apologize," she said automatically, years of conditioning making her uncomfortable with attention.

"No apologies for laughter aboard this ship," Wooyoung declared firmly, his usual playfulness momentarily replaced by genuine conviction. "Captain's orders."

"Genuine medical benefit as well," Yeosang added, surprising her with his supportive contribution. "Physiological advantages to unrestricted expression of positive emotion."

Their coordinated defense—Wooyoung's heartfelt encouragement balanced by Yeosang's clinical endorsement—revealed complementary aspects of protection rather than contradictory approaches. Despite their apparent contrast, both men sought the same outcome: her comfort and wellbeing aboard the ATEEZ.

"Thank you," she said simply, the gratitude encompassing more than just their current kindness.

Wooyoung beamed, his expression suggesting her laughter represented personal triumph. "My life's mission is complete. I've made Ella laugh—the rest of my culinary career can only be anticlimax."

"A concerning statement from the person responsible for feeding a crew of seventy-three pirates," Yeosang observed dryly, though his eyes remained warmer than his tone suggested.

"Seventy-three pirates with excellent taste and appreciation for culinary genius," Wooyoung corrected, immediately returning to his theatrical self-promotion. "Unlike certain ship's doctors who wouldn't know culinary inspiration if it exploded in their meticulously organized medicine cabinets."

"Which it did," Yeosang reminded him, lifting his completed tea preparation. "Hence the need for stronger locks."

As their banter resumed, Ella found herself still smiling—a real smile, not the careful one she usually put on. Something about their back-and-forth, the contrast between Wooyoung's enthusiasm and Yeosang's calm precision, let her respond naturally instead of calculating every reaction.

She caught Yeosang's eye briefly as he prepared to leave with his tea. In that moment of shared understanding, invisible to everyone else, two survivors of Blackwell's cruelty found an unexpected moment of freedom: through Wooyoung's absurd theatrics and Yeosang's dry comebacks, they'd found space for real laughter after fifteen years of necessary caution.

As she collected her breakfast and found a seat at a small corner table, Ella realized the ATEEZ was more complicated than she'd thought—a feared pirate ship whose culture made room for both Wooyoung's creative chaos and Yeosang's careful precision, for both calculated violence against enemies and kindness toward friends.

This complexity drew her in as she watched the crew's morning interactions. These feared pirates seemed genuinely human in their private moments—laughing at Wooyoung's antics, respecting Yeosang's quiet authority, working together with a sense of community rather than just tactical advantage.

Most importantly, five officers who had once been cabin boys on The Crimson Serpent were still searching for a little girl sold at auction, their childhood promise now the mission that defined their adult lives. And now that very girl sat among them, her identity hidden by choice—a decision that remained hers alone despite the blood oath that had driven five boys to become the most feared pirates on the seven seas.

After breakfast, Ella found herself heading to the upper deck, drawn by the need for fresh air after the crowded galley. The morning sun bathed the ATEEZ in golden light, softening its fearsome look. Crew members worked efficiently, adjusting sails and securing rigging as the ship navigated through challenging currents.

Near the helm, Captain Hongjoong stood with Seonghwa, both focused on navigation charts while occasionally looking toward the horizon. Their conversation seemed intense—clearly planning something important, not just chatting. The way they stood showed their partnership: Hongjoong's stance suggesting leadership, while Seonghwa's precise posture reflected careful analysis—different approaches working toward the same goal.

As she watched from a distance, Hongjoong suddenly looked up, his eyes finding hers with uncanny accuracy, as if he'd sensed her watching. Something like recognition flashed across his face—not of her identity, but of her presence. He said something brief to Seonghwa, who nodded before gathering the charts and walking away, deliberately avoiding where Ella stood.

Hongjoong walked toward her with measured steps, his captain's authority clear yet softened by the same consideration he'd shown since she boarded.

"Good morning," he greeted, his voice carrying easily over the wind and activity. "Was breakfast good? Wooyoung can be... over the top, but he really can cook, despite all the drama."

"Very good," she confirmed, still amused. "Though I hear the 'exploding dumplings' incident has become quite the legend."

A brief smile touched Hongjoong's features—a rare expression that made his usual strategic composure seem more human. "A story we'll be telling for years. My cabin still has dumpling fragments turning up in odd places."

The casual humor, so different from his usual careful interactions with her, gave her a glimpse of the boy beneath the captain's authority—the child who had taught a little girl about stars during secret midnight excursions on another ship long ago. Ella found herself responding with her own small smile, feeling more natural after her unexpected laughter in the galley.

"We're approaching the Meridian Straits," Hongjoong said, pointing toward the horizon where distant land created a narrow passage between open waters. "It's one of Blackwell's favorite shipping routes, which is why I'd value your thoughts. The charts in my quarters would be easier to work with than out here on deck."

The invitation—professional yet somehow personal—offered both practical purpose and a chance for the private conversation she'd been considering since reuniting with Yeosang. After days of watching life aboard the ATEEZ, Ella found herself increasingly curious about the captain himself: the boy who had called her "Treasure" now grown into a man whose brilliance had created the most feared pirate vessel on the seven seas.

"Of course," she agreed, following as he led the way to his quarters.

Unlike her previous brief glimpses of the captain's space, this visit let her really see how Hongjoong had made it his own. Navigation tools shared space with personal touches—carved figures she now recognized as Mingi's work, books ranging from technical manuals to poetry, even a small collection of unusual shells and stones. The room balanced practical function with personal identity—necessary tools alongside touches of humanity.

Most noticeable was the locked sea chest she'd glimpsed before, now positioned prominently near his desk. The antique box, decorated with navigation symbols and secured with heavy iron, caught her attention despite her attempts to look casual. Something about its placement suggested it was more than just storage—almost like a reminder or symbol.

Hongjoong spread charts across his large desk, weighing down the corners with smooth stones that seemed chosen specifically for this purpose. "These show Blackwell's usual shipping patterns through the Meridian Straits," he explained, his focus professional despite the private setting. "Based on your information and our observations, we've found potential weaknesses in his security."

As he outlined their assessment, Ella was impressed by how much the ATEEZ knew about Blackwell's operations. Their understanding went beyond just shipping schedules to include key personnel, communication methods, even emergency plans. The detail showed years of careful study, not just casual observation.

"You've been tracking him for a while," she said, both asking and confirming.

Hongjoong's expression shifted subtly, professional assessment giving way to something more personal. "Fifteen years," he said quietly, the simple words heavy with meaning.

The specific timeframe—exactly matching her years in captivity—created momentary silence between them. For the first time, Hongjoong had directly referenced their shared past without explicitly saying he knew who she was. The opening seemed deliberate, an invitation without pressure.

"May I ask why?" she asked carefully, keeping up her persona while trying to understand more. "Blackwell certainly deserves opposition, but your focus seems... personal rather than just strategic."

Hongjoong studied her for a long moment, as if weighing an important decision. Then he gestured toward two chairs near a small window overlooking the ship's wake.

"Please," he said simply, waiting until she'd seated herself before taking the opposite chair. The arrangement created a conversation space separate from the tactical discussion at his desk—shifting from professional consultation to personal exchange.

"The ATEEZ was built for a specific purpose," he began, his voice carrying a new quality—neither the captain's authority nor strategic calculation, but something more genuine, more human. "Ship and crew gathered around a central mission, not just for profit."

He paused, glancing briefly toward the locked sea chest before meeting her eyes directly. "I wasn't always Captain Hongjoong of the feared Compass Crew. Before that, I was just Hongjoong—orphaned cabin boy on a vessel called The Crimson Serpent."

Though she'd pieced together much of this history through observation and Yeosang's confirmation, hearing Hongjoong speak these words directly created an unexpected emotional response. His simple acknowledgment of his origins offered a potential bridge between her carefully maintained present and buried past.

"The Crimson Serpent," she repeated carefully, showing appropriate recognition without revealing personal connection. "A slave ship?"

Hongjoong nodded, something dark crossing his features. "Though they called it 'labor recruitment' and 'personnel acquisition' in official documents. Captivity hidden behind fancy words."

The bitter observation revealed genuine emotion beneath his usual control—moral outrage rather than just tactical opposition. This wasn't simply professional assessment but personal conviction born from direct experience.

"Five of us were taken as children," he continued, his words flowing more naturally than his usual measured speech. "Myself, Seonghwa, Wooyoung, Yunho, and Mingi. Orphans or street children with no one to report us missing, no one to demand our return."

Ella remained silent, understanding the significance of this disclosure. Though she'd glimpsed aspects of their shared history through observation and hints, Hongjoong's direct story represented a deliberate choice to share rather than a casual revelation.

"We learned to survive together on that ship," he continued, his gaze momentarily distant with memory. "Formed an alliance that became the foundation for everything that followed. But it wasn't until..." he hesitated slightly, "...until another joined us that we found purpose beyond just surviving."

"Another cabin boy?" she prompted when his story paused, careful to maintain her disguise despite her growing emotional response.

"A child," Hongjoong corrected, something soft entering his expression. "Captured during a coastal raid. Five years old, torn from everything familiar, expected to accept captivity without resistance."

The explicit reference to her own history—the first direct acknowledgment from any officer beyond Wooyoung's veiled comments—left Ella momentarily breathless. Fifteen years of calculated survival had taught her to keep her composure during even the most difficult circumstances, yet Hongjoong's simple description of her childhood self threatened that hard-won control.

"What happened to her?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral despite her inner turmoil.

A shadow crossed Hongjoong's features, regret and determination mixing in equal measure. "We tried to protect her. For three months on that floating hell, we created whatever safety we could. Then, during a stop in Halazia, we tried to escape."

His voice hardened slightly, the captain's strategic assessment temporarily displacing personal narrative. "We failed. Badly. A fire broke out during our attempt, creating chaos that separated us from her. The captain used the confusion to take her directly to auction. By the time we could move freely again, she had been sold."

The clinical description of that devastating day—stripped of emotion, reduced to tactical assessment—revealed Hongjoong's continued struggle with their failure. Fifteen years later, he still analyzed the event strategically, identifying errors in planning and execution rather than simply accepting the emotional impact.

"That night, we made a blood oath," he continued, unconsciously touching his palm where that long-ago cut had sealed their promise. "To survive, to grow stronger, to find her again—no matter how long it took, no matter what we had to sacrifice."

He looked toward the locked sea chest, tension visible in his shoulders despite his controlled expression. "Everything that followed—our eventual escape from The Crimson Serpent, our years learning necessary skills throughout the maritime world, our claiming of the ATEEZ and turning it into a vessel feared by slave traders—all started from that single promise. All focused on fulfilling a blood oath made by five children who failed to protect someone vulnerable."

The raw honesty of this disclosure—delivered without theatrical gesture or manipulative intent—affected Ella more deeply than Wooyoung's emotional hints or Yunho's gentle stargazing references. Hongjoong offered neither pressure nor expectation, simply truth: that finding her had defined their existence for fifteen years, that the ATEEZ's fearsome reputation had been built upon the foundation of a childhood promise.

"You've searched for her all this time?" she asked, the question emerging with unexpected emotion despite her efforts to maintain distance.

"Without stopping," Hongjoong confirmed, meeting her gaze directly. "Every port, every auction house, every slave market. Every rumor of a young girl sold in Halazia fifteen years ago. Every possible lead, no matter how unlikely."

He hesitated, then added with quiet certainty: "We'll continue searching until we find her or confirm beyond doubt that she's no longer alive. The oath remains unbroken regardless of years passed or obstacles encountered."

Something in his tone—not just determination but absolute commitment—affected Ella profoundly. For fifteen years, she had survived through calculated isolation, believing herself forgotten or abandoned by anyone who had ever shown her kindness. The reality that five boys had transformed themselves into the most feared pirates on the seven seas specifically to find her challenged fundamental assumptions that had guided her survival since childhood.

"And if you find her?" she asked, the question revealing vulnerability she rarely permitted. "After fifteen years, she would be much changed from the child you knew. Perhaps unrecognizable in ways beyond physical appearance."

Hongjoong considered this carefully, his expression showing deep thought rather than a hasty response. "We understand this," he said finally. "Fifteen years of captivity would necessarily transform anyone, creating a person shaped by survival rather than childhood potential. We're not trying to reclaim what was lost but to fulfill a promise that remains binding regardless of changes time and circumstance have created."

The distinction—seeking fulfillment of promise rather than restoration of past—suggested understanding beyond simple nostalgia. Unlike potential expectation that "y/n" should somehow match their childhood memories, Hongjoong acknowledged the inevitable transformation that fifteen years would create.

"Your campaign against Blackwell," she said, shifting toward practical implications rather than emotional response. "It's connected to this search?"

"Directly," he confirmed without hesitation. "At first, we simply targeted all slave traders as a matter of principle. But two years ago, we discovered Blackwell had purchased a girl that same night, at the Halazia auction. Since then, our operations have focused specifically on disrupting his activities, gathering intelligence about his organization, and systematically dismantling his trading network."

The timeline aligned with her own history—her transfer from Blackwell's direct ownership to his business associate had occurred approximately two years ago, shortly after the ATEEZ had apparently discovered her connection to their target. The correlation seemed unlikely to be coincidental.

"You believe Blackwell transferred her to prevent you from finding her," she observed, the realization crystallizing as she spoke. "That he recognized your campaign's personal motivation and deliberately hid her location."

"It's our working theory," Hongjoong acknowledged, professional assessment temporarily replacing personal narrative. "The timing suggests deliberate countermeasure rather than coincidental business arrangement. Blackwell's records regarding that specific transfer were methodically eliminated—unusually thorough even by his standards of operational security."

The implication clarified aspects of her captivity that had previously seemed arbitrary. Blackwell's decision to transfer her to Calloway—his associate specializing in "premium domestic personnel"—had appeared merely a business opportunity at the time. Now, understanding the ATEEZ's targeted campaign against Blackwell's operations, the transfer revealed strategic dimension beyond simple profit motive.

"He feared you finding her," she concluded, pieces connecting with increasing clarity. "He recognized her value as leverage against a potential threat."

Hongjoong nodded, the captain's strategic assessment evident despite the personal context. "Blackwell's operational methodology prioritizes advantage through intelligence. Once he identified connection between our campaign and his past acquisition, he would naturally implement countermeasures to maintain control of a potentially valuable asset."

The clinical terminology—"asset," "acquisition," "countermeasures"—revealed how thoroughly Hongjoong had integrated tactical thinking into his understanding of their shared history. Unlike Wooyoung's emotional responses or Yunho's gentle reminiscence, the captain analyzed even personal tragedy through a strategic lens—necessary perspective for a leader responsible for crew's survival during increasingly dangerous operations.

"And now?" she asked, careful neutrality masking deeper inquiry. "If this search has driven your mission for fifteen years, what happens if you succeed? If you find this girl who has shaped your existence from absence rather than presence?"

Something shifted in Hongjoong's expression—the captain's strategic mask temporarily giving way to more vulnerable humanity. For a brief moment, the boy who had once called a little girl "Treasure" during midnight stargazing emerged from behind fifteen years of necessary authority.

"Then she would be free," he said simply, the words containing both promise and limitation. "Free to choose her own path without obligation or expectation. Our oath was to find her, to restore the choice that captivity had eliminated. Not to impose new constraints based on childhood connection."

The declaration—simultaneously liberating and carefully bounded—revealed complex emotional territory beneath Hongjoong's strategic exterior. Unlike potential expectation that fulfilling their oath would create specific relationship or outcome, he offered something more profound: respect for agency that fifteen years of captivity had systematically denied.

"Many girls came and went from Blackwell's ownership. I wish I could help you find her. However I don't remember any girl named y/n in Blackwell's possession." She said nervously. "But I will help where I can."

Hongjoong stared at her for a long moment, almost in amusement. "I appreciate the help greatly. However, I never said her name was y/n." His eyes shinning with something she couldn't understand.

Ella's heart rate picked up as she tried to mask her panic. "Wooyoung mentioned this story earlier, he let her name slip." She said stone faced.

"Ah, I see." Hongjoong's amusement never fading. "For an intelligence specialist he has very loose lips."

Before she could respond, a sharp knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Hongjoong's expression immediately shifted, the captain's authority replacing personal vulnerability with practiced efficiency.

"Enter," he called, rising from his chair with smooth movement

Seonghwa appeared in the doorway, his expression revealing urgency despite characteristic composure. "Captain, vessel approaching from eastern quadrant. Flying Southern Trade Company colors alongside official pennant."

Hongjoong moved immediately toward his desk, professional focus displacing the openness of moments earlier. "Distance and heading?"

"Three miles, course suggests interception rather than parallel tracking," Seonghwa reported, his attention briefly acknowledging Ella's presence before returning to the captain. "Yunho confirms it matches the escort class recently commissioned by Blackwell's organization."

"Prepare the crew for potential engagement," Hongjoong instructed, already examining the charts they had been discussing earlier. "Standard protocol—hide primary weapons until identification confirmed, maintain course that suggests we're just merchants rather than trying to run."

As Seonghwa left to implement these instructions, Hongjoong turned toward Ella with an apologetic expression that nonetheless contained the captain's authority rather than personal regret. "I need to handle this situation. Please return to your quarters until we've assessed the threat level."

The abrupt shift from intimate conversation to tactical necessity reminded Ella that the ATEEZ was both a vessel of personal quest and feared pirate ship with a reputation built on precision and calculated violence. The men who searched for a lost girl were simultaneously commanders whose tactical brilliance had created a maritime legend.

"Of course, Captain," she replied, acknowledging both his authority and the necessary transition.

As she moved toward the door, Hongjoong's voice stopped her—softer than his tactical instructions to Seonghwa yet carrying equal certainty. "This conversation isn't finished," he said, something in his tone suggesting significance beyond mere scheduling. "Just paused for now."

The subtle distinction—pause rather than ending—offered connection that went beyond their current interaction. Unlike potential dismissal once practical information had been exchanged, Hongjoong indicated value beyond tactical advantage.

"I understand," she acknowledged, matching his tone. "Until circumstances permit."

Something passed between them in that moment—recognition not of shared past but of potential future, connection based on present choice rather than childhood memory. Then the ship's bell rang, calling crew to battle stations, and the captain's focus returned with practiced efficiency.

As Ella made her way to her quarters amid increasing activity above decks, she found herself processing the implications of Hongjoong's disclosure. Unlike her conversation with Yeosang, which had confirmed suspicions through shared experience, this interaction had revealed emotional dimensions previously hidden beneath strategic exterior—the human motivations driving tactical brilliance, the personal quest underlying fearsome reputation.

Most significantly, Hongjoong had offered his story without demand, history without expectation. Unlike potential manipulation that might have used shared past to extract specific response, he had simply shared truth: that finding her had defined their existence for fifteen years, that fulfilling blood oath remained binding regardless of changes time and circumstance had created.

The ATEEZ's sudden encounter with Southern Trade Company vessel perfectly mirrored her current situation—caught between past and present, between memory and reality, between comfortable anonymity and risky recognition. Like the black-sailed ship now preparing for potential combat, she navigated dangerous waters where decisions carried significant consequences.

As the sounds of battle preparation filtered through the ship—Seonghwa's precise commands, Wooyoung's unexpectedly authoritative coordination of below-deck crew, Yunho's calm instructions to rigging teams, Mingi's low voice directing gunners toward concealed positions—Ella recognized how seamlessly they transitioned from peaceful sailing to potential violence. These men who had shown her consistent kindness were simultaneously feared throughout the maritime world for ruthless efficiency and unwavering purpose.

In her cabin, secure behind closed door as naval confrontation developed above, she whispered, the familiar names carrying new significance after Hongjoong's revelations.

"Joongie, Hwa, Woo, Yuyu, Puppy, Angel," No longer merely comfort ritual but acknowledgment of connection maintained despite fifteen years' separation, of paths converging against seemingly impossible odds.

As naval confrontation developed above decks, tactical brilliance flowing through coordinated action, y/n found herself facing parallel challenge beneath strategic surface—navigating emotional waters more complex than any maritime passage, where recognition carried both promise and risk beyond simple identification.

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

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

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fadedtoneverland · 22 hours ago

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ateez on crack | atz.

❤︎ synopsis — living with 8 men who all share a brain cell has its moments. just crack hcs

pairing: ateez x gn!reader

theme: crack ✦

a/n: this is different form my usual slutty ahh fics. so hopefully people will like this ;))

cw: bad grammar and informal writing. lots of cursing. yeosang makes a fat joke. yunho’s feet. yunho and san have nasty ahh farting habits, so does mingi. there’s lots of mentions of farts but that’s because ateez are men. jongho talks abt decapitation. wooyoung’s dirty mind.

➵ park seonghwa

this man misplaces his legos so many times

some of the members have stepped in his lego pieces way too many times.

and he’ll just sit there like “oh you found my luke skywalker piece :))”

you just help him find his legos again and clean it up whenever he needs help

you know how ateez has that fridge rule where they can eat any food in the fridge if it’s unlabeled?

yeah seonghwa has broken that rule multiple times. he’s eaten so much labeled food before.

and no one even suspects him too, because one time wooyoung got caught doing the same thing and he’s been getting blamed ever since

while seonghwa just sits there like: ☺️ you know however, you just don’t say anything

big clean freak. we all knew this

and he’s perfectly justified too. i would also be upset if one of my bandmates just left a musty ass sock in the middle of the perfectly pristine living room.

weirdly competitive during fall guys

like he’s got his cutie patootie games where he can chill on animal crossing and stardew valley, but these other games? his swearing puts a sailor to shame

“hongjoong you bastard- don’t— fuck- do NOT push me off the damn edge-!! i’m gonna kill you.”

➵ kim hongjoong

never has has a pimple in his life. and will never get one because of how fucking gorgeous his skin is

like he’d be hearing about all the acne attacks yunho and mingi got when they were younger and he’s like “what’s that”

gen z but his knowledge on meme and slang culture is that of a rock

has to ask you, wooyoung and jongho for help

he falls for the updog jokes every time the 99z pull it on him and they never let him live it down

discovered animal farm by george orwell and will not shut up about it every time the topic of dystopian literature is brought up

hongjoong probably owns like 50+ colognes and perfumes he never uses 😀

he has a whole shelf dedicated to them, and probably only uses one or two

“don’t judge my taste in scents. y’all are just mad you can’t afford this.”

caffeine makes up 90% of his blood

he’s got that na jaemin problem with his coffee addiction because of how much he works

sometimes he tweaks out so bad you need you put on the “o i i a” spinning cat meme on the tv to distract him

it weirdly calms him down. it’s like playing baby sensory videos for the child you’re babysitting

➵ jeong yunho

very into sports anime like sk8 the infinity, yuri on ice, haikyuu, blue lock

like that seems normal at first glance, but then you realize all those shows are kinda fruity as fuck

and you’re standing here looking at him like 🤨🤨 you got somethin’ to say, yuyu??

“i’m fluidly heterosexual” is what he says

probably has a bunch of drafts of tiktok thirst traps that he just doesn’t care to post. partially because he knows ATINY won’t be able to handle it

you and him once tried making tomato soup and grilled cheese together, and he didn’t put the blending lid on properly for the tomatoes

so tomato mixture got everywhere and into your eyes. he had to hold back his laughs while you stared at him with murder in your eyes.

has deadly ass farts and has definitely aimed one of them at wooyoung because he was being annoying

if he’s laying on the opposite side of someone on the couch he’ll put his feet in their face to annoy them. caressing their cheeks with his toes n’ shit. like gross

“san you wanna smell my feet?” 😏

“i’m gonna dropkick you”

➵ kang yeosang

a savage lowk

he acts super clueless and innocent on camera, but sometimes he will deal the most lethal one-liners when provoked

“wooyoung shut your horizontally challenged ass up, i saw your fat ass down like 20 cookies this morning like you haven’t eaten in months.”

wooyoung’s reaction: 😟

misplaces his shit all the time but they’re always so easy to find

“where are my glasses??” and they’re literally in his hand

probably drinks arizona green tea like he’ll die without it

dogs LOVE him

you and yeosang were walking casually through the streets and like- two stray puppies ended up following y’all home (without you two noticing too)

gets WAYYYY to jittery and hyperactive if he consumes an energy drink

he’s officially banned from ever consuming another ghost or monster because of the “rubber chicken incident”

he doesn’t remember that incident, but if you ask jongho about it, he’s just gonna do the hundred yard stare on you.

“jongho… what is that incident all about?” “…. no.”

➵ choi san

remember how it was mentioned yunho has deadly farts? san’s are LETHAL

the amount of protein shakes he consumes is actually diabolical. one lil’ toot from him could revive the bubonic plague

one time you got a good whiff of his farts while he was napping and you went 😦

skin is gorgeous as fuck but has a nonexistent skincare routine

he either aggressively lathers on cetaphile like a true man, or uses body wash on his face like a heathen

san has a burner acc on tiktok that he uses to save all the thirsty ass edits of himself so he can flex later to the other members

one time this account almost got leaked by mingi and san saw the light for a quick second there

every time someone brings up that fuck ass leopard print purple button up he used to wear all the time in early ateez days he’s ready to fight a bitch

dude’s the dolce & gabbana prince now, he’s got an image to maintain as the fashion icon

spends WAY too much money on jellycats, and you’ve def encouraged this spending behavior. that love for plushies will never go away

if you ever mention twink san during 2018-2019, san gets a little shy and defensive

“awwww, sannie you looked so cute in this picture five years ago—“ “stop. ☹️”

➵ song mingi

actually the clumsiest mf to walk planet earth

he could be standing still and somehow fall (and do the family guy death pose), while the other members clown him

probably cried watching all of the bambi films (me too buddy)

tbh i just feel like he has a really big attachment to underrated disney movies and gets offended if people don’t know what they are (the fox and the hound, the aristocats, treasure planet etc.)

he just seems like a movie guru in general

complains about san’s farts smelling like ass but his farts could start earthquakes

like- they don’t smell, they’re just loud as fuck.

and he’s definitely paused a recording session just to lift his leg and let it rip

snores really loudly when he sleeps

jongho once was forced to sleep between wooyoung and mingi, and literally he got like- no sleep because of how loud their snores were

this guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, we all know that.

like he’s tall and buff and hot, but he’s probably scared of peppa pig or smth

“those eyes have seen things.” is what he says

he once had a dream that you shaved his head without him knowing and he wouldn’t let you touch his hair for like a week. like bro developed a legitimate fear of it

“you touch these luscious locks and in bodying you.” “mingi ☹️”

➵ jung wooyoung

legitimate, certified ankle biter

like wooyoung probably has a phd in ankle biting or smth, because he bites everyone all the damn time.

and he’s definitely caused some gnarly looking marks to last for a while (poor yeosang)

can make a dirty joke out of everything

he’s got the humor of a middle school boy and an absolutely rancid mind. it’s a talent, really.

“ugh, finding a rhythm for this song is so hard.”“you know what else is hard? 😈”

this boy cannot sit still for like five seconds

gives his stylists and makeup artists a hard time because he moves around too much, and giggles when he gets his blush done cuz the brush tickles his cheeks

is weirdly into competitive pokemon battling

he’s definitely used a clefable with the most annoying moveset to troll people (cosmic power, moonlight, minimize and stored power)

cooks like a god but can’t bake for shit

you showed him a fun banana bread recipe, but he got too impatient waiting for it to fully bake, so he took it out while it was still raw in the center

you threw an egg at him for that

“but y/n :(( …” “don’t speak to me.”

will do random internet deep dives at 3am, only to find the most cursed shit and later ask someone about it. for some reason he thinks going on tumblr (hehe) or ao3 is the best idea in the world.

“jongho what is mpreg?” “🧍🚶‍➡️🚪”

➵ choi jongho

biggest pear hater in the world for no reason

it’s not even because of his love for apples, he just ate a bad pear one time as a kid and forever loathes them

has definitely thrown hands with mingi cuz that mf ate his honey butter chips

jongho does NOT play about his snacks, and honestly me too

“come here so i can politely bitch slap you :)”

acts normal and above all of his hyungs cuz they’re all weird as fuck, but he’s just as insane as them

once got into a screaming match with wooyoung over fall guys, and the game got banned by hongjoong for a month

also weirdly competitive over animal crossing for no reason

like there’s no competition, he just wants to have the best island (which he can’t because hwa is so much better at the game than him, and jongho’s salty about it)

jongho understands english better than he lets on, but doesn’t help the members because he likes seeing them struggle

poses in pictures like a literal boomer

the amount of times you’ve taken his pictures, and you had to hold back your laugh because he was just standing in the frame like “🧍‍♂️👍”

says random traumatizing facts to unsettle ateez and he smiles like he won the fucking lottery

“san, did you know that when you get decapitated, your mind stays conscious for at least 20 more seconds? 😊” “…. what.”

at the end of the day, you live with eight chaotic men who are just too much. but still makes life more interesting for you <3

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#ateez #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez x reader #choi san x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #crack fic #crack headcanons

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