#ella x sky

[skunkbutts]

They’re so cuteee

[emchinixx]

A little sketch of Skella royal AU👑⚜🗡

We need more of them🥺

I also thought about what dress Ella would wear but I couldn't decide so I kinda redesign it to make it kinda more royalish 😼

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💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

[sophiekarim]

ELLA PURNELL as RHIANNON LEWIS

Sweetpea (2024)

[delightfully-deranged-dagur]

Pahkitew Island but good.

I spend an hour on this.

[fontygolucky]

Man what kind of Gwourtney rip-off is this?

[iwritefandomimagines]

SWEETPEA IMAGINES

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

AJ

↳ favourite person

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

see all masterlists here

[skylerfurmaniac]

Ey lurker Chelle again good to see yeh and glad you're doin good on a new account ehehahahe now feed me more spamton dress content slop pretty please with a pipis on top I need to satiate my hunger

I shall satiate your hunger now sorry for starving you for 3 week lmao

I hope this will provid a meal -w-

(Extra doodles underneath keep reading ^^)

Doodles I made for my friends @leewayslounge @boykisserwoah @sunny-m00n and @s1lly-gh02tz :D

Anyways oc time :3 (plus random shit lmao)

[tdpahkitewisland]

final results

and there we have it, jashawn won✨✨✨

[verreprincesse]

@farspirits dreamed:  💕 bc I love them!

[floweringrott]

bug eyed

james f. potter x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary; james fleamont potter’s less-than-normal attempts to get his other-worldly divination partner on a date.

warnings; alice in wonderland coded reader, pure! fluff!, reader is hinted at being a lovegood, reader has blonde hair, reader is described to have bug-like eyes (think ella purnell), reader being a seer, use of y/n

a/n; this is rlly shitty i just wanted to get my first story OUT! this is more a drabble tho

670 words | masterlist ☾⋆

taglist @rafeyswrd @crescentofthegods

James Potter did not like Divination. It wasn’t that he didn’t fare well in the subject, in fact, he did.

It was just terribly boring, and his Professor didn't even allow for the Marauders to sit together. Instead, each of the brothers had been scattered around the cramped, incense-filled room.

Leading to James being seated next to you.

You, who (somehow) managed to be the centre of James Potter's attention every time he stepped foot into the Divination classroom, only to subsequently lose it the moment he left.

At least that what you believed.

"Oh, and by the way," James began casually, his attention nowhere near the crystal ball in front of him, and your intense focus on that same ball.

You were sitting on your knees, your purple tights in stark contrast to your yellow and black robe and tie. "The boys were planning on going to Hogsmeade this weekend.. and I was wondering if you’d want to c—"

Shhh!

A single finger moved to James' mouth, quickly shutting him up as his eyes trailed quickly behind him to Sirius, who sat with a wolfish grin and a thumbs up.

"Do you see it?" You whispered, your voice light and dreamy, as if you were talking to the crystal itself.

James frowned, turning his attention to the foggy orb. He leaned closer, his dark brows knitting together in confusion.

Whatever you were seeing, he wasn't.

His eyes then trailed to you, losing track of the task on hand as he stared at your messy, pale blonde hair.

He didn’t know when it had started, when his feelings for Lily Evans had morphed into feelings for you.

"Right there." You murmured, leaning so close to the crystal that your nose nearly touched it.

He didn’t reply at first, but let out a yelp as you abruptly grabbed either side of his head and forced him to stare into the ball.

"I'm sorry, Y/N! But nothing is there."

You turned to him with an expression of utter exasperation, as if he'd just declared that the sky wasn’t blue. "You’re not doing it right. Look into the crystal, not at it."

To your surprise, James actually complied. But as he stared into the empty fog, an idea popped into his head, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

"Wait!" He pretended to be shocked, a sly smile lacing his lips from the sound of your gasp.

"I see you. In Hogsmeade."

"Me?"

"Oh, yeah. Totally." He nodded, slightly leaning into your hands; prompting you to move them away.

Ever trusting, you nodded along with his words, your bug eyes larger than normal as you urged him to continue.

James frowned at the feeling of your hands leaving, though, he quickly recovered as he let out a comical gasp. "Well, would you look at that!"

"What?" You smiled cheesily, "What is it?"

Your look didn’t flatter as James seemingly deflated into the velvet cushions behind the two of you.

"I can’t say-"

"What?"

James resisted the urge to smile at your reaction. "I can’t say, it might not come true if I do."

You frowned, your expression as serious as if he'd just insulted the art of Divination itself. "That’s not how these things work, James."

The other boy went quiet, his eyes flickering around the room for effect, then looking back at you.

"I was there."

…

"Oh." Your head tilted to the side, considering his words for a moment. "What’s wrong with that?"

"I.. nothing?"

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade?" You spoke simply, your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the butterbeer cork necklace that hung around your neck.

James didn’t take a moment to think about it.

"Yes. Definitely." He watched your reaction — which was nothing as if you had expected it.

"Okay." She nodded, her gaze moving to peer through the swirling mist, the image of lightning bolt carved into skin sending a chill down her spine.

"Next time don’t lie. Crystal gazing is a very serious study."

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

Country Boy’s Dream Girl

Jake Seresin x Reader

WC: 2K

Summary: Jake meets an old friend at the bar while visiting his family in Texas

Jake "Hangman" Seresin sat back in his worn leather chair, the cool breeze from the open window brushing against his skin as he stared at the familiar yet distant skyline of San Diego. The golden hour light filtered through the palm trees outside, casting long shadows over the simple furnishings of his rental home. The city’s endless sunshine and soft waves, which had once seemed idyllic, now felt like a constant reminder of something missing. The rhythmic crash of the ocean against the shore, the warm breeze carrying the scent of salt, all of it should have been comforting, but lately, it only amplified the restlessness simmering within him.

His gaze drifted over the distant horizon, but his thoughts were elsewhere—somewhere filled with rolling hills and wide-open skies. Austin, Texas. That’s where his heart kept pulling him. San Diego, with its picture-perfect beaches, had served him well, but it never felt like home. Home was where the dusty trails stretched out beneath his boots, where the heat wrapped around you like a blanket, and the sound of cicadas filled the evening air. It was where the people knew you, really knew you, not just your call sign. It had been months since the Dagger Squad's last mission, and though the Navy had served as a distraction something in him felt restless. San Diego was nice but it wasn’t home. Home was Texas.

His phone buzzed on the wooden table beside him, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced down, the screen lighting up with a message from his sister: "Can’t wait to see you! The kids have been asking about Uncle Jake nonstop."

Jake’s lips curled into a smile, soft but genuine. He loved his sisters and their families, loved the rowdy chaos of his nieces and nephews whenever he visited. They always made him feel grounded, like no matter how high he flew or how fast he lived, they would always be his soft landing. And now, after months of jet-setting and the endless pace of military life, he was more than ready to touch down for a while.

The Navy had given him the excitement and adrenaline he craved, flying high above the clouds, pushing the limits of speed and skill. But even in the thrill of flight, there was always the need for a safe landing—a place to return to. For Jake, that place had always been Austin. After months of deployments and the constant go-go-go of military life, the thought of heading home to his roots felt like a breath of fresh air.

Jake’s flight touched down at Austin-Bergstrom Airport late in the afternoon. The moment he stepped off the plane, the thick humidity greeted him like an old friend. The heat clung to his skin, not oppressively, but with a warmth that felt familiar, grounding. As he made his way through the terminal, the sounds of Austin wrapped around him—the twang of country music playing softly in the background, the faint drawl in people’s voices. It all felt like slipping into a favorite pair of boots, worn in and perfectly molded to fit.

His parents were waiting for him just past security, their faces lighting up as soon as they saw him. His mother wrapped him in a tight hug, the smell of her familiar perfume tugging at memories of childhood, while his father clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm, reassuring.

As they drove home, the landscape of Texas unfolded around them—endless fields of wildflowers, the horizon stretching out beneath a brilliant blue sky. They talked about everything and nothing, the conversation easy, the silence between them filled with the comfort of people who didn’t need to fill every space with words.

"Y’all planning on going out tonight?" his dad asked, his eyes cutting over from the driver’s seat with a knowing smirk.

Jake’s mother chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with the same mischief she had always had. "You know his old friends won’t let him stay in on a Friday night."

Jake grinned, a flood of memories rushing back—nights spent at the local bar, a spot they’d practically lived in during their teenage years. The steady beat of country music in the background, the clink of beer bottles, and the easy banter between friends. His high school buddies, the ones who had stayed in Austin and the ones who had left but always came back, were more than just friends—they were family, just like Austin was more than a place; it was home.

"You know me," Jake said, his grin widening. "Can’t say no to a good ol’ night out with the guys."

By the time he arrived at the bar that evening, the sky had darkened into a deep, inky blue, the stars twinkling above like old friends. The neon lights outside the bar flickered, casting a colorful glow over the parking lot filled with trucks. The familiar hum of country music drifted out from inside, mixing with the scent of barbecue from the joint next door. As Jake stepped inside, the sights and sounds hit him all at once—the twang of a guitar, the hum of voices, the scent of spilled beer and whiskey mingling with worn leather and sweat.

The bar was filled with familiar faces, people he hadn’t seen in years but who greeted him like no time had passed at all. But amidst the laughter and catching up, his eyes landed on one person who made the world around him seem to slow down.

Y/N stood near the bar, her laughter carrying over the crowd as she tossed her head back, the kind of laugh that turned heads. She looked every bit like the girl he remembered but with something more, something that drew him in like a magnet. Her long, sun-kissed hair cascaded down her back, her low-rise denim shorts showing off tanned, toned legs. She wore worn-in cowboy boots and a tank top that fit her perfectly, effortlessly blending casual with a kind of understated allure.

Jake couldn’t look away.

Jake had always remembered her as the wild, untamed spirit from high school—the girl who could be the life of the party one moment and disappear into the Texas wilderness the next. She was known as the princess of the school coming from a prim and proper family, the epitome of a southern belle Y/N was. Till her family looked away then Y/N wasn’t just a pretty face anymore; She wasn’t like the other girls who strutted around in heels and short skirts, playing the part of arm candy for boys who didn’t care about anything but looks. She was the kind of girl who could drive a four-wheeler through an old red road, cranking Curtis Loew, line dance until the sun came up, bonfires out in the fields and tailgates. If that was what anyone was looking for they wouldn’t have too look any further. She’d always had a wild side that set her apart, a fire that made her untouchable to anyone who couldnt match her energy. One that attracted attention but also scared off anyone who wasn’t up for the ride.

And Jake? Jake was up for it.

As he watched her now, twirling on the dance floor with her friends, her cowboy boots scuffing the wooden floor as she moved to the beat. She was all energy. Jake felt something stir deep in his chest. She was untamed, all energy and movement, a force of nature that was impossible to ignore. When she grabbed the mic for karaoke and belted out an old country tune, the crowd cheered her on, her voice unpolished but full of heart. She commanded the room without even trying. She wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t need to be. She was magnetic.

Jake realized he’d been staring at her all night, and for the first time he felt nervous. He’d flown high-speed jets, faced impossible odds, but this—walking up to Y/N after all these years—felt like a leap into the unknown.

Finally, after another round of drinks and a deep breath, he stood, squaring his shoulders. Come on, Seresin. He told himself. It’s just Y/N.

her eyes met his, that slow, easy smile spreading across her lips, Jake knew this wasn’t just a casual encounter. This was something more.

As he approached her, she caught his eye and smiled, the kind of smile that could stop traffic. “Well, if it isn’t Jake Seresin,” she said, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Jake grinned. “Yeah, it has. You look good, Y/N. Still stealing the spotlight, I see.”

She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, you know me. Can’t help it. What brings you back to Austin? Thought you were too busy saving the world these days.”

Jake shrugged. “Home’s always home. Figured I’d come back for a few weeks, see the family. And it’s good to see you too.”

Jake chuckled, trying to play it cool as he leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the bar beside her. “Can’t stay away from Texas too long. It’s in my blood, you know that.” His eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary. “Besides, I had to see if Austin was still the same.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, tilting her head just slightly. “Still the same? You think Austin’s the only thing that’s changed, Jake?”

Her words hung between them, the weight of their shared history filling the space. Back in high school, Jake had been the golden boy—the one who everyone thought would soar higher than anyone. He had, of course. But in doing so, he’d left everything behind, including the people who knew him before he was “Hangman.” And Y/N, with her rebellious streak and free spirit, had been the one he never quite figured out how to speak to.

“Guess I’m here to find out,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious as he met her gaze head-on. “What about you? Still causing trouble wherever you go?”

Y/N laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “Trouble follows me, Jake. You should know that by now.”

The banter was easy, familiar, but beneath it all was an undercurrent of something deeper. They’d always had that between them—an unspoken connection that neither had fully explored. Back then, life had been all about fast cars, late nights, and chasing whatever adventure they could find. But now, as adults, the stakes felt different.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled. “Well, it’s good to see you too, Jake.” She took a sip of her drink, then set it down. “You wanna dance? Or are you just gonna stand there looking pretty?”

Jake laughed, feeling the last of his nerves dissolve. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Y/N hesitated for only a split second before placing her hand in his. “Alright, Seresin,” she said, a teasing edge in her voice, “but don’t think you can keep up just because you can fly a jet.”

The two of them moved out onto the dance floor, the familiar beat of a George Strait song playing in the background. Jake hadn’t danced in ages, but it came back to him quickly. And Y/N? She moved like she was born on the dance floor, guiding him through the steps, her body close to his. It was easy, comfortable, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the noise, the crowd, the years between them.

“So,” Y/N said, her voice light but her eyes searching his. “How’s life been treating you, Mr. Navy Pilot? Saving the world one flight at a time?”

Jake smirked, spinning her effortlessly before pulling her back into his arms. “Something like that. The flying’s great, but it’s not all action movies and glory like people think.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I bet. It’s gotta be hard being up there all the time, away from everything.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. There was something in the way she said “away from everything” that hit him harder than he expected. Because it wasn’t just about flying; it was about what he’d left behind—who he’d left behind. Austin, his family, his friends… Y/N. For years, he’d been chasing the thrill of the skies, but now that he was grounded, here with her, he realized how much he’d missed what was right in front of him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, looking down at her. “It is.”

For a moment, they just moved together, the music carrying them as the world around them blurred. It felt natural, like they’d been here a hundred times before, even though they hadn’t. And maybe that’s what made it feel so right.

As the song came to an end, Jake reluctantly let her go, but not before he caught the flicker of something in her eyes—something that mirrored the way he was feeling. This wasn’t just a casual reunion, and they both knew it.

Y/N’s eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite read, but before she could respond, the song ended, and the moment was interrupted. The crowd cheered as another round of karaoke started up, and Y/N’s friends called her over.

“Looks like they need me,” she said with a smile. “But hey, don’t be a stranger, Jake. It’s been nice catching up.”

Jake watched her walk away, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t ready to let her go, not yet. So, in a burst of confidence, he called out to her.

“Wait! How about a duet?”

Y/N turned around, surprised. “A duet? You sing now?”

Jake smirked. “No, but I figure you could make me look good.”

She laughed, walking back over to him. “Alright, Seresin. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Later that night, after they’d belted out a slightly off-key version of a Kenny Chesney song and shared a few more dances, Jake couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. She was like a sky full of stars, lighting up everything around her, making him feel like maybe—just maybe—he could have something real with her.

Before he could overthink it, Jake spoke. “What do you say we get out of here? Maybe take a drive? Catch up somewhere quieter.”

Y/N’s smile widened, that familiar glint of mischief in her eyes. “You sure you can handle that, Seresin? I don’t wanna be responsible for getting you into trouble on your first night back.”

Jake grinned, already reaching for his keys. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ve been in plenty of trouble, but I think I can handle whatever you’ve got in mind.”

The two of them ended up in Jake’s truck, windows down, the warm Texas night air rushing in as they cruised down a familiar country road. The radio played softly, but neither of them paid much attention to it. Instead, they talked—really talked. About everything and nothing, about what they’d been up to, the paths their lives had taken, and all the things that had changed since high school. The cool Texas night air wrapping around them, Jake felt the urge to pull her close, to kiss her under the stars like some kind of old country song in his old tee and faded jeans. But he held back, not wanting to rush things.

Y/N told him about her life in Austin, about the business she’d started—something Jake never would’ve guessed she’d do, but somehow made perfect sense. She still had that wild streak, but there was a groundedness to her now, too. She had roots, something Jake had always admired from afar but never quite managed to plant himself.

“You seem happy here,” Jake said after a while, glancing over at her as they pulled off the road, parking under a wide-open sky filled with stars.

“I am,” Y/N replied, looking out at the horizon. “It’s not always easy, but I love it here… It’s home.”

Jake nodded, the word “home” settling in his chest like a weight. Home. That’s what he’d been chasing, wasn’t it? Not just a place, but a feeling—a sense of belonging. And sitting here, with Y/N by his side, it was starting to feel like maybe he’d found it.

She was this country boys dream girl.

[brookiidookiii]

Hello skyella nation. I have some headcanons for these girls I love them

- butch x femme!!!!

- sky is a lesbian in my eyes, she was more coming to terms with it during PI. Ella is a girl kisser too. At first she was just supportive but once she came to terms that Dave wasn’t interested in her and started noticing sky… she internally panicked. jkwheksk

- Ella calls sky her Prince Charming as a cute pet name :^) knight in shining armor is another cute one. Sky calls her princess or sleeping beauty and other cute things like that. Lots of fluffy pet names between the two

- Ella’s favorite way to be kissed is every time they get home from a date night she dramatically flops onto the couch in some extra pose and has sky bend down to kiss her. Think of sleeping beauty

- they ride those double seated bikes and sing together. Butterflies and birds follow them everywhere they go

- once sky becomes a successful Olympian she gets rich and her and Ella can now go to Disneyland all the time if they want

- I always have to envision my ships as parents in the future… they’re such cool moms. They adopt a daughter and Ella is a great stay at home mom, they do arts and crafts. Their kid is set for life too because of sky’s career.

- they don’t have pets they just have birds and animals that follow them around everywhere they go. Also did I mention that skys car is a convertible and ella has a pink Lamborghini. Something very very pink.

- ella owns lots of stuffed animals so she has the comfiest bed imaginable. Their sleepovers are super fun

- sky wears the suit on their wedding. Ouhhh their wedding is so cute too. It’s all fairytale themed and when they kiss sky dips her and it’s adorable 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I LOVE THEM.

- every Halloween they go as princess and knight

- Ella likes to dress up sky and normally sky prefers a more masculine look but seeing how happy Ella is to dress her up as Cinderella is completely worth it. Envision them as that imagine of that girl sitting on top of another girl and doing her makeup. That’s them

- Ella has a nice garden that she tends to. Her and sky plant stuff together

- since sky knows the cree language, she teaches Ella some. Every time they see each other they whisper “I love you” in cree

- that’s all for now :D I’ll add more as I think of them. Feel free to add on!!!!!

[velvetvisionsaurora]

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

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

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

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Masterlist

Chapter 4

Echoes of Memory

Morning light filtered through the small porthole of Ella's cabin, waking her from the deepest sleep she'd experienced in years. For a disorienting moment, she couldn't place where she was—the gentle rocking motion familiar yet the comfort of the bed entirely foreign. Then yesterday's events crashed back: the auction, the astronomical bid, the pirate captain with intense eyes who had purchased her freedom rather than her person.

She rose quickly, years of conditioning making her anxious about being caught sleeping late. Slave habits died hard, if they died at all. The clean clothes provided yesterday were supplemented by new garments on the small desk—practical attire suitable for ship life rather than the restrictive clothing typically given to female captives. Another unexpected consideration.

Ella ran her fingers over the fabric, allowing herself a small smile at its softness. Fifteen years of coarse cloth against her skin made this simple comfort feel like extraordinary luxury. On impulse, she twirled once, feeling the fabric swish around her legs, before catching herself with a startled laugh. Such frivolous movement had been dangerous in Blackwell's household, where any sign of spirit invited unwanted attention.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Breakfast will be served on deck in ten minutes," came Wooyoung's cheerful voice through the door. "Captain's orders—he wants to begin the interviews with a full stomach and fresh air."

"Thank you," she replied, relieved to hear no impatience in his tone despite her oversleeping. "I'll be ready."

"No rush! Pirates aren't exactly known for punctuality." His laughter faded as he moved away down the corridor.

The casual kindness continued to unsettle her. Fifteen years of captivity had taught her to expect hidden motives behind every gentle word, calculating strategy behind every apparent consideration. Yet something in Wooyoung's genuine warmth defied her practiced cynicism.

As she dressed and prepared herself, Ella deliberately loosened some of her usual rigid control. If she truly was free, perhaps she could begin allowing small pieces of herself to emerge from behind the protective walls she'd constructed. Not complete vulnerability—never that—but tiny openings to test the atmosphere of this strange new world.

She whispered her nightly ritual once more, like a talisman against the day's uncertainties: "Joongie, Hwa, Woo, Yuyu, Puppy."

The ATEEZ's main deck bustled with morning activity when Ella emerged from below. Sailors moved with practiced efficiency, adjusting sails to catch the favorable wind that had carried them well away from Halazia's harbor overnight. The black sails, now fully unfurled against the clear sky, gave the vessel an ominous silhouette that belied the cheerful calls and occasional laughter of its crew.

She paused momentarily, breathing deeply of the clean sea air—another simple pleasure denied during years of confinement. The vastness of ocean and sky created a sensation of expanding possibility that made her heart beat faster.

"There you are!" Wooyoung waved from a small table set near the stern, where Captain Hongjoong and Quartermaster Seonghwa were already seated. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

"The ship is... larger than it appears from shore," she replied, a partial truth to explain her hesitation. In reality, she had been cataloging escape routes and defensive positions—habitual survival behavior she couldn't switch off despite her apparent freedom.

As she approached the table, a sudden gust of wind caught her hair, loosening strands from her severe bun. Instead of immediately securing them as she normally would, Ella let them dance momentarily around her face, enjoying the sensation of wind against her skin.

Captain Hongjoong rose slightly as she approached—a courtesy normally reserved for ladies of quality, not former slaves. The gesture caught her off-guard, another unexpected consideration that made her wary even as part of her responded to the simple dignity it afforded her.

"I trust you slept well?" he inquired as she took the seat indicated.

"Very well, thank you." Better than she had in years, though she kept this admission to herself. The soft bed and absence of fear had combined to produce a depth of rest she'd forgotten was possible.

The breakfast spread surprised her—fresh bread, preserved fruits, even small portions of smoked fish. Wooyoung placed a cup of steaming tea before her with flourish.

"My special blend," he said with a wink. "Secret ingredients."

As she took a cautious sip, the flavor struck her with unexpected force—cardamom, cinnamon, and something else she couldn't quite identify. A flash of memory surfaced: a small boy with bright eyes crushing spices between stones, whispering that he was "making magic" while she watched with fascination.

"It's wonderful," she said, letting genuine pleasure show in her expression. "Like drinking sunlight."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly at her poetic description before his face split into a delighted grin. "Exactly! That's exactly what I've always thought but could never explain." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "The secret is a pinch of saffron—criminally expensive but worth every coin."

His enthusiasm was contagious, and Ella found herself smiling in response—a real smile that reached her eyes rather than the carefully calibrated expression she typically maintained. "Then I'm honored by your generosity," she replied, taking another appreciative sip.

Wooyoung beamed with pleasure before settling into his own seat. "The captain says you're going to help us understand Blackwell's operation. You'll find no more attentive audience—we've been tracking him for years."

"Years?" Ella asked, genuine curiosity breaking through her caution. "Why focus on one particular slave trader among so many?"

A subtle tension rippled through the three men, brief but unmistakable. Captain Hongjoong's expression remained carefully neutral as he replied.

"The Southern Trade Company represents everything we oppose. Their methods are particularly brutal, their influence unusually extensive. Dismantling their operation would significantly disrupt the slave trade throughout the region."

The explanation was logical, yet something in his tone suggested personal motivation beyond strategic objectives. Ella filed this observation away for later consideration.

"I'll share what I know," she offered, "though my perspective was necessarily limited. Slaves aren't privy to business operations."

"You'd be surprised how much one can observe from the shadows," Seonghwa countered, his elegant features arranged in perfect composure. "Those who own others often forget they have eyes and ears."

The assessment was accurate. Throughout her captivity, Ella had cultivated the art of invisibility while remaining acutely aware of her surroundings. Over time, she'd pieced together considerable knowledge about Blackwell's business practices, ship movements, and trade connections. The question was how much of this information to share, and how quickly.

"Perhaps we could begin with the basic structure of Blackwell's organization," Hongjoong suggested, seamlessly shifting into the interview portion of their breakfast. "His key lieutenants, primary trading routes, largest holdings."

The topic was safe enough—factual information without personal disclosure. Ella organized her thoughts, then began a methodical description of Blackwell's company structure. As she spoke, she noticed Seonghwa making precise notes in a small leather-bound book, his handwriting remarkably neat despite the ship's gentle rolling.

"His primary residence is a fortified estate ten miles inland from Halazia's eastern district," she explained. "The property includes holding facilities for 'premium merchandise' before auction."

A muscle tightened in Hongjoong's jaw at this clinical terminology, though she was merely quoting Blackwell's own words. His controlled reaction revealed genuine moral outrage beneath his carefully maintained composure.

"You should see his private garden, though," she added, allowing a hint of sardonic humor to color her tone. "He's terribly proud of his imported roses—fusses over them more than any human in his possession. Once spent an entire dinner describing the precise soil composition required for blue-tinted blooms."

Wooyoung snorted into his tea, while Seonghwa's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. Even Hongjoong's serious expression lightened momentarily.

"Priorities of a true gentleman," the captain remarked dryly, his tone matching her ironic delivery.

The small moment of shared humor loosened something in Ella's chest—a tight knot of tension she hadn't fully recognized until it began to unravel. Humor had been another luxury denied under Blackwell's ownership, where laughter could be interpreted as insolence.

"The estate is guarded by approximately thirty men at any given time," she continued, finding her voice flowing more naturally. "Blackwell himself travels frequently between his three main bases of operation—Halazia, Port Westerly, and the southern islands."

"His flagship is the Meridian," Hongjoong noted. "Fast brigantine, heavily armed but disguised as a merchant vessel. We've tracked it through southern waters but never engaged directly."

Ella nodded. "He typically travels with a small fleet—the Meridian plus two escort vessels crewed by his most loyal officers." She hesitated, then added with a touch of mischief, "Though 'loyal' might be overstating matters. His first mate, Coleman, has been skimming profits for years. Blackwell suspects but can't prove it, which makes their interactions rather entertaining to observe."

Seonghwa's eyebrow arched with interest. "Internal discord is always useful information."

"Coleman maintains a separate ledger," Ella elaborated, warming to her subject. "Keeps it hidden beneath a loose floorboard in his cabin—not particularly imaginative, but effective enough. If one were inclined toward mischief, that ledger would make excellent leverage."

"One might indeed be so inclined," Wooyoung remarked with a conspiratorial grin that reminded her painfully of a young boy planning kitchen raids for forbidden treats.

The conversation continued in this vein through breakfast—professional exchange of information increasingly colored by Ella's personal observations and occasional flashes of wit. She found herself relaxing into the interaction despite her habitual caution, drawn by the evident appreciation these men showed for both her knowledge and her perspective.

As they finished eating, a sailor approached with a message for the captain. After a brief exchange, Hongjoong turned back to the table.

"Duty calls. Seonghwa, please continue our discussion with Ella in the chart room. I'll join you shortly." He rose, offering her a slight bow. "Your insights are invaluable. Thank you for your candor."

As he departed, Seonghwa gathered his notes with meticulous precision. "The chart room will be more comfortable for an extended conversation. If you're amenable?"

"Of course," she agreed, rising to follow him.

"I'll bring fresh tea!" Wooyoung called after them, already clearing the breakfast dishes with efficient movements.

As Ella followed Seonghwa below decks, she noticed how crew members they passed showed the quartermaster respect without fear—a stark contrast to the enforced deference she'd witnessed in Blackwell's organization. The ATEEZ might be feared by enemies, but its own crew operated with evident loyalty rather than intimidation.

The chart room proved to be a spacious cabin dominated by a large table where navigational maps were secured beneath a sheet of clear glass. Various instruments lined the walls—sextants, compasses, and measuring tools arranged in perfect order. The space reminded her of a meticulous scholar's study rather than a pirate's workplace.

"Please, sit," Seonghwa indicated a chair positioned to view both the maps and the doorway—a courtesy that acknowledged her need for situational awareness.

As they settled into a more detailed discussion of Blackwell's trading routes, Ella found herself unexpectedly relaxing. The quartermaster's precise questions were clearly designed to extract maximum useful information, yet there was nothing threatening in his approach. He simply presented problems, absorbed her responses, and occasionally made annotations on the appropriate maps.

Their conversation flowed with surprising ease. When she mentioned a particular cove Blackwell used for clandestine transfers, Seonghwa immediately located it on the chart, adding small marks to indicate patrol patterns based on her description. His memory was exceptional—he never needed her to repeat information, and quickly integrated new details with existing knowledge.

During a brief pause while Seonghwa adjusted a map, Ella found herself absently rearranging the navigation tools near her edge of the table, aligning them in perfect parallel lines. Catching herself in this unconscious action, she glanced up to find Seonghwa watching her with an unreadable expression.

"Sorry," she said, gesturing to the tools. "Force of habit."

To her surprise, his lips curved in a small but genuine smile. "No apology necessary. They're now in their proper positions."

The simple acknowledgment of shared precision struck a chord of recognition so powerful that Ella had to look away momentarily. When she glanced back, Seonghwa had returned to his maps, the brief connection seemingly forgotten though its effects lingered in her awareness.

"You have a remarkably ordered mind," he observed after another period of productive discussion. "Most witnesses struggle to provide such coherent intelligence."

The compliment, delivered without flattery, caught her off guard. "Observation was necessary for survival," she replied simply.

Seonghwa's gaze met hers with unexpected intensity. "Yes. It often is."

Something in his tone suggested personal understanding rather than theoretical knowledge. Before she could respond, Wooyoung arrived with the promised tea service, his entrance dispelling the moment of connection.

"Special delivery!" he announced, setting down a tray laden with not just tea but small honey cakes. "Brain work requires sustenance."

"We're conducting serious intelligence gathering, not hosting a social gathering," Seonghwa remarked, though without genuine irritation.

"Intelligence flows better with honey cakes," Wooyoung countered, setting cups before them. "Even quartermaster brains need sweetening occasionally."

Their familiar bickering triggered another wave of déjà vu so powerful that Ella had to focus on the teacup before her to maintain composure. Something about their dynamic, the precise way Seonghwa's eyebrow arched in response to Wooyoung's teasing, resonated with half-forgotten memories.

Unable to resist the temptation, she picked up a honey cake and deliberately broke it in half before eating—a small childhood habit she'd maintained whenever possible. Wooyoung's eyes widened fractionally, his gaze following the movement of her hands with curious intensity.

"Too large to eat in one bite," she explained with a light shrug, though the justification felt strangely important to offer.

"Exactly!" Wooyoung exclaimed with disproportionate enthusiasm. "That's exactly how they should be eaten. I always break mine in half too."

It was a small thing—trivial really—yet the shared preference created an unexpected sense of connection. Ella found herself smiling again, the expression becoming less foreign with each occurrence.

"Will you be continuing the interview?" Wooyoung asked, clearly hoping to join them.

"Actually," Seonghwa replied, glancing at the chronometer on the wall, "we've covered considerable ground already. Perhaps Ella would appreciate seeing more of the ship? A tour might provide context for our discussions."

"An excellent idea!" Wooyoung agreed enthusiastically. "Though the galley is currently off-limits—mid-morning bread preparation makes for poor sightseeing."

"Perhaps Yunho could serve as guide," Seonghwa suggested. "As boatswain, he can provide the most comprehensive overview of ship operations."

The proposal seemed casual, but Ella sensed underlying purpose. Were they deliberately cycling her through different officers, each assessing her from their unique perspective? Or was there another motive for ensuring she spent time with each of them?

"I would welcome a tour," she agreed, curious to observe more of the ship's operations. Knowledge of her surroundings was always valuable, regardless of intent.

Wooyoung departed to locate Yunho, leaving Ella briefly alone with Seonghwa. The quartermaster organized his notes with methodical precision, each page aligned perfectly before being secured in a leather folio.

"Thank you for your assistance," he said formally. "Your knowledge of Blackwell's operation is impressively detailed."

"I merely observed what was before me."

"Few develop such clarity of perception, even when survival depends upon it." His tone remained neutral, but something in his eyes suggested deeper meaning. "Perception requires both intelligence and courage."

Before she could formulate a response, the door opened to admit Yunho's tall frame. The boatswain's gentle smile immediately lightened the atmosphere.

"I hear you're interested in ship operations," he said, ducking slightly as he entered the low-ceilinged room. "I'd be happy to show you around, if you'd like."

"Thank you," Ella replied, rising from her seat. "I appreciate the opportunity."

Seonghwa nodded acknowledgment as they departed, already returning to his annotations on the charts. His focused dedication to task reminded her of another careful boy who had created safety through meticulous planning—a memory she pushed aside as she followed Yunho into the corridor.

The boatswain moved with surprising grace for his size, adjusting his stride to accommodate her shorter legs without making the consideration obvious. As they emerged onto the main deck, he gestured broadly at the ship surrounding them.

"The ATEEZ is a modified brigantine—fast enough to outrun larger vessels, maneuverable enough to navigate shallow waters, but with sufficient firepower to defend herself when necessary," he explained, pride evident in his voice. "We've made considerable alterations to her original design over the years."

Ella followed as he conducted a comprehensive tour of the vessel, from bow to stern. Yunho explained each area's function with clear enthusiasm, introducing crew members they encountered with casual warmth that revealed the ship's strong community bonds. Throughout, he displayed not just technical knowledge but genuine love for the vessel and its operations.

"The rigging system is custom designed," he explained, pointing to the complex arrangement of ropes and pulleys above them. "We can adjust sail configuration more quickly than standard vessels, giving us advantage in pursuit or evasion."

"You designed this?" she asked, genuinely impressed by the ingenious system.

A slight flush colored his cheeks. "With Mingi's help. He created the pulley mechanisms that make it work."

"It's brilliant," she said sincerely, then added with playful challenge, "Though I wonder how it performs in squall conditions with rapid wind shifts."

Yunho's eyes lit up at the technical question. "That's where the secondary stabilizing lines come in," he explained, pointing to a supplementary rigging arrangement. "They allow for quick rebalancing without compromising structural integrity."

"Clever," she acknowledged, then surprised herself by adding, "I'd love to see it in action sometime."

"Are you familiar with sailing mechanics?" he asked, evident curiosity in his tone.

The question required careful navigation. Her knowledge came primarily from observation aboard various vessels during her captivity, but explaining this might reveal more of her history than she wished to share.

"I've observed various ships in operation," she replied, a truthful if incomplete explanation. "The principles fascinate me, though my understanding is purely theoretical."

Yunho nodded acceptance of this answer. "Theory and practice often differ at sea. The elements have little respect for human calculations."

"Nature rarely does," she agreed. "Though humans can adapt if they're clever enough."

"And humble enough," he added with unexpected wisdom. "Pride makes poor companions with waves and wind."

The observation, delivered without pretension, reminded her of starlit conversations long ago—a tall boy explaining natural elements with reverent wonder rather than technical mastery. The memory created an ache of recognition she couldn't fully suppress.

As they continued their tour, the sun climbed higher in the sky, its warmth pleasant against Ella's skin after years of limited access to fresh air and daylight. The vastness of the ocean surrounding them stirred complex emotions—freedom and opportunity mixed with awareness of isolation and dependency.

"The crow's nest provides the best view," Yunho remarked, following her gaze upward. "Would you like to see?"

The invitation surprised her—access to high vantage points was rarely granted to captives, given the tactical advantage height provided. Yet another reminder that her status aboard this vessel was fundamentally different from her previous existence.

"Is it permitted?" she asked cautiously.

"Of course. You're not a prisoner here." His gentle assertion held no condescension, just simple truth. "Though the climb can be challenging for those unaccustomed to ship rigging."

"I'd like to try," she decided, the prospect of expansive visibility appealing to instincts honed by years of restricted movement and sight lines.

Yunho nodded approval. "I'll follow behind—not because I doubt your capability, but safety protocols apply to everyone aboard."

His consideration—acknowledging her agency while maintaining practical safety—struck another chord of familiarity. She followed his instructions for navigating the rigging, finding her body remembered climbing skills she hadn't used in years. The physical exertion felt surprisingly good, muscles engaging in movements long denied.

When they reached the small platform high above the deck, the view stole her breath. Endless blue stretched in all directions, the horizon a perfect circle unbroken by land. The ATEEZ's black sails billowed below them, crew members reduced to small figures moving with coordinated purpose across the deck.

"It's magnificent," she admitted, the word inadequate for the expanse of freedom before her.

"I've always found peace up here," Yunho said quietly, settling beside her with respectful distance. "The stars at night are even more spectacular—no city lights to dim their brilliance."

Unable to resist the childlike impulse, she closed her eyes and spread her arms slightly, letting the wind flow around her body in a sensation of near-flight.

When she opened her eyes, she caught Yunho watching her with a soft expression that vanished quickly into his usual gentle smile. "It's the closest we get to flying," he remarked, as if understanding her unspoken thought.

"Better than flying," she replied. "Birds don't appreciate what they have."

Yunho laughed, the sound carrying freely in the open air. "I've never thought of it that way. Poor ungrateful birds, taking flight for granted."

His laughter was contagious, and Ella found herself joining in—genuine mirth bubbling up from a place she'd thought long silenced. The sound of her own laughter startled her almost as much as the sensation itself, unfamiliar after years of careful restraint.

"You mentioned the stars," she said once their laughter subsided. "Are they particularly clear from here?"

Yunho's expression brightened with genuine enthusiasm. "Extraordinarily so. On cloudless nights, the sky becomes a canopy of light—constellations so vivid they seem close enough to touch."

"I've always loved the stars," Ella admitted, the confession slipping out before she could reconsider. "During my years with Blackwell, my bedroom had a small window high in the wall. Too small for escape, but perfect for viewing a small patch of night sky. I taught myself the constellations from that limited view—piecing them together night after night like a puzzle."

The personal revelation surprised her as much as it seemed to surprise Yunho, whose expression reflected both interest and compassion.

"Self-taught astronomy under such conditions," he remarked softly. "That shows remarkable determination."

Ella shrugged, momentarily embarrassed by her openness. "It gave me something beyond my immediate circumstances—something vast and constant that couldn't be owned or controlled."

"The stars have been sailors' companions for thousands of years for similar reasons," Yunho agreed. "They offer direction when all else is chaos."

Impulsively, she pointed toward a particular section of sky. "Is that where Orion would be visible at night?"

"Yes, exactly!" Yunho's face lit with even greater enthusiasm. "You do know your stars. He's not visible now in daylight, but he guards that quadrant after sunset. How did you determine his position?"

"Hemisphere and season," she explained, warming to the subject despite her usual caution. "And I remember he travels with his loyal hound, Canis Major, who carries the brightest star in our sky."

"Sirius," Yunho confirmed, his expression reflecting delighted surprise at finding an unexpected fellow enthusiast. "The Dog Star."

For several minutes, they discussed the constellations visible from their current position, Ella sharing her self-taught knowledge while Yunho contributed the practical applications used in navigation. It was the most unguarded conversation she'd engaged in for years—a subject that connected to her deepest self yet revealed nothing dangerous about her history or identity.

"Would you be interested in seeing them properly tonight?" Yunho suggested. "Weather permitting, of course. The night watch wouldn't mind company in the crow's nest for an hour."

The invitation represented more than simple stargazing—it was an offer of trust, an acknowledgment of her as a person with interests and desires rather than merely a source of intelligence about Blackwell. Ella found herself nodding before prudence could intervene.

"I'd like that very much," she replied, surprised by her own sincerity.

They remained in the crow's nest for several more comfortable minutes, the silence between them lacking the tension Ella had grown accustomed to in most human interactions. Eventually, Yunho gestured toward the deck below.

"We should continue our tour. The captain will want to resume interviews this afternoon."

As they descended, Ella found herself wondering at the ease she felt in Yunho's presence. His gentle manner and straightforward communication created space for relaxation she rarely permitted herself. It was dangerous—comfort led to complacency, and complacency to vulnerability—yet the familiar quality of his kindness resonated with something deep within her.

Back on deck, Yunho led her toward the bow, where several crew members were engaged in maintenance work. As they approached, Ella spotted a figure she recognized instantly—Mingi's broad shoulders and focused attention unmistakable as he inspected a section of railing.

The master gunner looked up at their approach, his dark eyes meeting hers briefly before shifting away. Unlike the captain's searching gaze or Wooyoung's open curiosity, Mingi's glance contained something deeper—a wary recognition that suggested he, too, experienced the strange resonance she felt in their presence.

"Mingi's checking the gun port mechanisms," Yunho explained. "We modified the design to conceal our firepower from distant observation."

"Clever," she acknowledged, studying the seamless integration of practical function and deceptive appearance. "Most merchant vessels wouldn't recognize the threat until within range."

"Exactly," Yunho confirmed. "Though we prefer to avoid conflict when possible. The modifications simply ensure favorable terms when negotiation fails."

As he spoke, Mingi completed his inspection and straightened, acknowledging them with a slight nod. His movements held the careful precision she'd noticed yesterday—a man constantly aware of his size and strength, moderating both to avoid intimidation.

"Is everything functional?" Yunho asked his friend.

"Yes," Mingi replied, his deep voice soft despite its resonance. "Port-side mechanism needs minor adjustment."

"I can assist after the tour," Yunho offered.

Mingi nodded agreement, his eyes flickering briefly to Ella before returning to Yunho. Something unspoken passed between them—a communication developed through years of friendship and collaboration.

"The forecastle next?" Yunho suggested, apparently understanding whatever silent message had been conveyed.

"Actually," Ella interjected, curiosity overcoming caution, "I'd be interested in learning more about the gun ports, if permitted. The design seems uniquely practical."

Both men looked momentarily surprised by her interest. Mingi recovered first, giving another slight nod that might have been approval.

"I can demonstrate," he offered, the words emerging with careful deliberation.

Yunho smiled, as if pleased by this development. "Excellent. No one understands the mechanisms better than their designer. I'll check in with the captain and return shortly."

With that diplomatic withdrawal, Ella found herself alone with the taciturn gunner—a situation that triggered both wariness and that same inexplicable sense of familiarity. Mingi led her to the nearest gun port, his movements unhurried but efficient.

"External appearance," he began, indicating the seemingly solid hull planking. "Conceals armed capability."

He pressed a recessed panel, revealing a cleverly disguised latch mechanism. With smooth precision, the "solid" section of hull swung inward, exposing a medium-caliber cannon mounted on a specially designed track.

"Rotation and elevation adjustable," he explained, demonstrating with minimal movement how the weapon could be positioned for various targeting scenarios. "Quick deployment essential in confrontation."

His explanation was technical but clear, each word carefully chosen and precisely delivered. The efficiency of his communication reflected both respect for her intelligence and his own preference for verbal economy.

"The counterweight system is ingenious," she observed, noting how the heavy cannon could be moved with relatively little physical effort. "Your design?"

He nodded once, a flicker of quiet pride crossing his features before disappearing behind his usual reserved expression.

Ella studied the mechanism with genuine curiosity. Unlike the stars, which had provided solace during her captivity, weapons systems represented knowledge she'd never had opportunity or reason to acquire. Yet she found herself intrigued by the practical ingenuity represented in Mingi's design.

"How do you synchronize the firing sequence if multiple ports are deployed simultaneously?" she asked, genuinely curious about the operational logistics. 

The question seemed to surprise him. Mingi studied her for a moment, as if reassessing his understanding of who she was and what she knew.

"Coordinated signaling," he explained, then indicated a series of speaking tubes and bell-pull mechanisms integrated into the gun port housing. "Precise timing essential for maximum effect."

His explanation remained concise but thorough, respecting her question without condescension. Unlike mathematics, which would have required formal education she clearly couldn't have received as a slave, weapons operation represented practical knowledge that might reasonably be acquired through observation.

Ella found herself engaging in the technical discussion with unexpected interest. Though she lacked the theoretical foundation to fully understand the underlying principles, she could appreciate the elegant functionality of the design.

Finding herself genuinely curious, Ella leaned forward to examine a particular gear mechanism. "This compensates for lateral motion?"

Mingi nodded, then surprised her by gently adjusting her viewpoint with a light touch on her shoulder, directing her attention to a secondary system. "Additional stabilization."

The brief contact lasted only a moment, but Ella noticed how quickly he withdrew his hand afterward, as if concerned about overstepping. His caution touched something in her—this powerful man so careful not to frighten or impose.

On impulse, she pointed to a small carved symbol nearly hidden within the mechanical housing. "Is that your maker's mark?"

Mingi's eyes widened slightly before he nodded, something vulnerable flashing across his usually stoic features.

"It's beautiful," she said sincerely, studying the simple but elegant design. "Functional components shouldn't sacrifice aesthetic consideration."

The observation drew what might have been the ghost of a smile—a subtle softening around his eyes that transformed his face momentarily.

As they continued examining the gun port mechanisms, Ella found herself relaxing into the interaction despite its technical nature. Though she couldn't match Mingi's expertise, her genuine interest seemed to encourage him to demonstrate aspects of the system he might otherwise have omitted.

"Designed for minimal crew," he explained at one point, showing how a single operator could manage functions that typically required multiple gunners. "Efficiency important with limited personnel."

"That's remarkably practical," she acknowledged. "Most naval vessels require three or four men per cannon."

"Necessity drives innovation," he replied with unexpected eloquence.

"You've clearly given great thought to these systems," Ella observed. "Have you designed other mechanisms for the ship?"

This question seemed to please him, though his expression remained reserved. With slightly more animation than he'd shown previously, Mingi led her to several additional innovation points throughout the nearby section—hatches with counterbalanced opening mechanisms, specialized tool storage integrated into structural elements, even water collection systems that utilized the ship's natural drainage patterns.

Each design reflected the same core principles: efficiency, functionality, and elegant simplicity. Though Mingi's explanations remained concise, his evident pride in the work revealed a depth of passion that transcended his reserved demeanor.

"Your work is extraordinary," Ella said sincerely as they concluded the impromptu tour. "You've created an integrated system where every component serves multiple purposes."

Mingi ducked his head slightly at the praise, uncomfortable with direct acknowledgment yet clearly pleased by her genuine appreciation. "Practical necessities," he murmured, though the faint color in his cheeks betrayed his satisfaction.

Before she could respond further, Yunho returned, accompanied by the captain.

"I see Mingi's revealed our secret weapons," Hongjoong remarked, his tone light though his eyes watchful as always.

"The design is exceptional," Ella replied truthfully. "Both practical and deceptive."

"Mingi's mechanical genius extends beyond weapons systems," the captain acknowledged, giving his gunner rare public credit. "Much of what makes the ATEEZ unique comes from his innovations."

The quiet man ducked his head slightly at this praise, discomfort with attention evident in his posture. Hongjoong seemed to recognize this, smoothly shifting focus.

"If you've concluded your tour, perhaps we could continue our discussion from this morning? There are several aspects of Blackwell's operation I'd like to explore further."

"Of course," Ella agreed, recognizing the request as politely phrased command.

As she prepared to follow the captain, a sudden impulse made her turn back to Mingi. "Thank you for the explanation. Your work is... remarkable."

Mingi met her eyes directly for the first time, holding her gaze for a breathtaking moment before offering a single nod of acknowledgment. The brief connection felt strangely significant, as if some important message had passed between them without words.

As she followed the captain toward his quarters, she glanced back to see Mingi and Yunho already absorbed in discussion of the port-side mechanism that needed adjustment. Their comfortable partnership spoke of years of mutual trust and understanding—another echo of something half-remembered from a time before captivity had taught her the danger of such bonds.

The morning's interactions had left her with conflicting impressions. The

The morning's interactions had left her with conflicting impressions. The ATEEZ's officers treated her with consistent respect and consideration, yet she sensed underlying currents beyond their stated interest in Blackwell's operations. Their coordinated movement through her day—breakfast with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, then Seonghwa alone, followed by Yunho's tour and Mingi's technical explanation—suggested deliberate strategy rather than coincidental scheduling.

Were they testing her? Evaluating her responses to different approaches? Or was there something else behind their careful attention?

As she entered the captain's cabin for the afternoon interview, Ella reinforced her mental guards. Whatever game was being played aboard the ATEEZ, she would maintain her vigilance until she understood the true stakes and players involved. Freedom—real freedom—required more than physical escape from captivity. It demanded clarity about the forces surrounding her and the nature of her place among them.

Yet beneath this caution, something else stirred—a sense of recognition that transcended logical explanation. Something about these five men resonated with her most deeply held memories, echoing from a time before Blackwell, before slavery had defined her existence.

Like fragments of a forgotten dream, these echoes teased at the edges of consciousness, suggesting connections she couldn't yet fully comprehend or trust. For now, she would watch and wait, gathering her own intelligence while providing theirs, until the truth—whatever it might be—emerged from the shadows of memory and time.

But perhaps, she admitted to herself as she took the seat offered by the captain, she could allow small moments of her true self to emerge from behind her protective walls. Testing the waters of this strange new freedom one ripple at a time.

From his position on the quarterdeck, Hongjoong observed Ella's departure from the gun port demonstration, noting the subtle change in her posture following her conversation with Mingi. Something in the interaction had affected her—a slight relaxation of the constant vigilance she maintained, perhaps, or a moment of genuine engagement beyond calculated cooperation.

More striking was the transformation he'd witnessed throughout the morning—small but significant shifts in her demeanor with each officer. With Seonghwa, she'd displayed unexpected humor and methodical thinking. With Yunho, she'd shown curiosity and even momentary playfulness in the crow's nest. With Mingi, she'd revealed genuine interest in mechanical systems that had drawn the reticent gunner into extended explanation.

"Well?" he asked as Seonghwa approached, the quartermaster's arrival precisely timed as always.

"She has exceptional knowledge of Blackwell's organization," Seonghwa reported. "Details that would be difficult to fabricate or misremember. Her understanding of shipping routes and security protocols is particularly comprehensive."

"And your impression beyond the information provided?"

Seonghwa considered carefully before responding. "She organizes information with remarkable clarity. Methodical, precise, attentive to detail in ways that suggest trained observation rather than casual awareness."

"She arranged the papers on the chart table," he added after a moment, his voice lowering slightly. "In perfect right angles. Exactly as I would have done."

The implication hung between them, neither man giving voice to the hope that continued to build despite their cautious restraint.

"Yunho reports she expressed specific interest in celestial navigation," Hongjoong noted. "Self-taught astronomy, she claimed—learned through a window in her quarters under Blackwell."

"Wooyoung is convinced she recognized the cardamom tea," Seonghwa added. "He claims she had the same reaction to his spiced honey cakes that she did fifteen years ago—though I reminded him that confirmation bias affects perception."

"And breaking them in half before eating," Hongjoong mused. "Wooyoung mentioned that specifically."

Seonghwa nodded, the gesture acknowledging significance without confirming conclusion. "Small behaviors that could be coincidental."

"Or could be memory fragments," Hongjoong countered. "Habits that survived when explicit memories were suppressed."

The quartermaster inclined his head slightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. His caution balanced Hongjoong's growing conviction—a partnership dynamic established through years of shared decision-making.

"We proceed as planned," Hongjoong decided. "Systematic exposure to familiar elements without direct confrontation. If she is y/n, there must be reasons for her concealment. We'll respect that until she chooses otherwise."

"And if she isn't?" Seonghwa asked, voicing the question that haunted them all.

Hongjoong's hand moved unconsciously to the inner pocket where Mr. Hugs had traveled for fifteen years—now empty, the teddy bear secured in his sea chest until certainty was established.

"Then we've gained valuable intelligence about our primary target while freeing someone who deserved liberation," he replied firmly. "Either outcome justifies our investment."

As Ella appeared on deck, moving toward his cabin for their scheduled interview, Hongjoong observed the subtle but significant changes in her demeanor since yesterday—her posture slightly more relaxed, her interactions with crew members less guarded, occasional genuine expressions breaking through her careful composure. Small changes that nonetheless suggested growing comfort despite continued caution.

"Time will reveal truth," he murmured, more to himself than Seonghwa. "One way or another."

But deep within, in the quiet spaces where the captain's mask occasionally slipped, Hongjoong nursed the growing hope that they had finally, improbably, fulfilled the blood oath that had defined their lives since childhood. That the treasure he had sworn to protect had somehow found her way back to them against impossible odds.

The afternoon interview proved less formally structured than Ella had anticipated. Rather than continuing the systematic interrogation from their morning session, Hongjoong guided the conversation toward more nuanced aspects of Blackwell's operation—the power dynamics within his organization, the patterns in his decision-making, the vulnerabilities in his security protocols.

"You mentioned Coleman's separate accounting," the captain noted, referencing her breakfast revelation. "How extensive is this embezzlement?"

"Substantial enough to purchase a modest estate in the southern islands," Ella replied. "He's been methodically diverting funds for at least five years, primarily from the less documented transactions."

"Which Blackwell suspects but hasn't confirmed?"

"Correct. He knows the numbers don't align but can't identify the specific discrepancies. Coleman is careful to spread his theft across multiple accounts, never taking enough from any single source to trigger obvious concern."

Hongjoong nodded thoughtfully, clearly integrating this information into some larger strategic framework. "And the relationship between them?"

"Strained but functional," Ella explained. "Blackwell values Coleman's competence while distrusting his integrity—a common paradox in his organization. He surrounds himself with people effective enough to be valuable but corrupt enough to be controlled through their own misdeeds."

"A sound strategy for someone in his position," Hongjoong observed.

"But ultimately self-defeating," Ella countered. "It creates an organization of people seeking advantage rather than serving common purpose. In crisis, such bonds fracture quickly."

The captain's eyebrow raised slightly at this analysis. "You've given this considerable thought."

Ella shrugged, trying to appear casual despite the significance of her observation. "When your survival depends on predicting how power will shift, you learn to identify structural weaknesses."

"A valuable skill," Hongjoong acknowledged, his tone suggesting genuine respect rather than mere courtesy.

The conversation continued in this manner for over an hour—Hongjoong probing specific aspects of Blackwell's operation while Ella provided increasingly nuanced insights. Unlike the morning session, which had focused primarily on factual information, this discussion ventured into more interpretive territory, revealing Ella's understanding of the psychological and organizational dynamics underlying Blackwell's business practices.

Throughout, she maintained careful boundaries around her personal experiences, sharing analytical observations without disclosing how this knowledge had been acquired. To her surprise, Hongjoong respected these limitations, never pressing for details about her specific position within Blackwell's household or the treatment she had endured.

This restraint reinforced her growing impression that these pirates operated according to principles beyond mere self-interest. Their opposition to slavery appeared principled rather than opportunistic—a moral stance rather than a convenient justification for profit-seeking violence.

As the interview concluded, Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, studying her with that same searching gaze she'd noticed during their first encounter. "Your insights are extraordinarily valuable," he said finally. "Not just the factual information, but your understanding of Blackwell's organizational weaknesses."

"I hope it proves useful in your campaign against him," she replied neutrally.

"It already has," he assured her. "You've confirmed several strategic vulnerabilities we suspected and identified others we hadn't recognized."

He rose, signaling the end of their session. "You're free to move about the ship as you wish, within reasonable safety parameters. Dinner will be served in the officers' mess at sunset. Until then, your time is your own."

The casual grant of freedom—temporary and limited though it might be—caught Ella off guard. "Thank you," she managed, rising from her own seat. "That's... generous."

"It's not generosity," Hongjoong replied, echoing Wooyoung's breakfast statement. "It's recognition of your status as a free person rather than property."

Before she could formulate a response to this matter-of-fact declaration, a knock at the door announced Seonghwa's arrival with additional maps for the captain's review. Ella took the opportunity to make her exit, mind already considering how best to use this unexpected period of independence.

As she emerged onto the main deck, the afternoon sun warm against her skin, Ella experienced a momentary sense of disorientation. Freedom to choose her own actions, even within the confined context of a ship at sea, represented luxury so unfamiliar it bordered on overwhelming. What did one do with unfettered hours after fifteen years of regimented existence?

The answer came with surprising clarity: she would watch the ocean. During her captivity, horizons had been her most consistent deprivation—views blocked by walls, windows, or the constant press of supervisory presence. Now, with permission to move freely and an endless horizon surrounding her, she could indulge the simple pleasure of unobstructed sight lines.

Finding a relatively quiet section of railing, Ella positioned herself to observe both the open sea and the ship's operations. The dual focus served both her immediate desire for expansive views and her habitual need for situational awareness. From this vantage point, she could track crew movements while appearing to simply enjoy the scenery.

For nearly an hour, she remained in this contemplative state, absorbing the ship's rhythms while allowing her mind to process the day's interactions. The ATEEZ operated with remarkable efficiency—crew members moving purposefully through their tasks with minimal supervision yet evident coordination. Unlike Blackwell's household, where fear motivated performance, these sailors appeared driven by competence and mutual respect.

More puzzling were her own reactions to the ship's officers. Their familiar yet unfamiliar presence continued to trigger emotional echoes she couldn't fully explain. The easy banter between Seonghwa and Wooyoung, Yunho's gentle instruction, Mingi's quiet competence, Hongjoong's careful leadership—all resonated with memories just beyond conscious reach.

"Enjoying the view?"

The voice startled her from her reverie. Ella turned to find Wooyoung approaching, his characteristic smile brightening his features.

"Very much," she acknowledged. "It's... liberating."

"The endless horizon?" he asked, joining her at the railing. "Or the lack of walls?"

The perceptive question revealed unexpected insight beneath his playful demeanor. "Both," she admitted. "Though I hadn't consciously distinguished between them."

"The sea offers many forms of freedom," he replied, his tone unusually philosophical. "Absence of confinement is only the most obvious."

For several minutes, they stood in comfortable silence, watching the sun's gradual descent toward the western horizon. The moment felt strangely significant—shared contemplation without purpose beyond present experience.

"I'm heading to the galley to begin dinner preparations," Wooyoung said eventually. "Would you like to join me? I could use an extra pair of hands, and cooking offers its own kind of freedom."

The invitation surprised her, though perhaps it shouldn't have. Wooyoung had been the most openly welcoming of the officers, his warmth seemingly uncomplicated by whatever undercurrents flowed between the others.

"I'm not much of a cook," she warned. "Blackwell's household had professional kitchen staff."

"All the more reason to learn," he countered cheerfully. "Everyone should know how to prepare at least one delicious meal. It's a fundamental life skill, like swimming or lying convincingly to customs officials."

The casual inclusion of deception among essential capabilities startled a laugh from her. "Is that part of your official duties as ship's cook?"

"Cook and intelligence officer," he corrected with exaggerated dignity. "The roles complement each other beautifully. People reveal all sorts of secrets when they're enjoying good food."

"Is that your strategy with me?" she asked, only half-joking. "Culinary interrogation?"

Wooyoung's expression shifted to one of mock offense. "I would never! Well, not with honey cakes at least. Those are sacred."

His theatrical indignation drew another laugh from her—genuine amusement that felt increasingly natural with each occurrence. "In that case, I accept your invitation. Though I can't promise culinary competence."

"Enthusiasm counts more than expertise," he assured her, leading the way below decks. "And you already have the most important qualification."

"Which is?"

"You break honey cakes correctly," he replied with complete seriousness. "That demonstrates fundamental good judgment."

The galley proved more spacious than she had expected, with clear organization and surprisingly modern equipment. Various cooking implements hung from overhead racks, while ingredients were stored in labeled containers secured against the ship's movement. The space reflected the same attention to practical efficiency she'd observed throughout the vessel.

"Welcome to my domain," Wooyoung announced with theatrical flourish. "Less glamorous than the captain's quarters but infinitely more satisfying to the senses."

Under his cheerful guidance, Ella found herself drawn into collaborative food preparation—chopping vegetables, measuring spices, stirring simmering pots. Wooyoung's instruction proved surprisingly effective, his explanations clear despite his apparent haphazard approach.

"The secret to good cooking is confidence," he declared, demonstrating a technique for quickly dicing onions. "Ingredients can smell fear. They only behave for those who approach them with authority."

"Is that official culinary science?" she asked, attempting to mimic his rapid knife work with considerably less skill.

"Absolutely," he confirmed with complete conviction. "Passed down through generations of fearless cooks facing rebellious vegetation."

His playful absurdity created an atmosphere where mistakes became opportunities for humor rather than sources of anxiety. When Ella accidentally added too much salt to a sauce, Wooyoung immediately incorporated the error into a revised recipe, declaring it "fortuitously enhanced" rather than ruined.

This forgiving approach gradually eroded her habitual cautiousness. By the time they began preparing dessert—a simple fruit compote with spiced syrup—Ella found herself suggesting modifications to the recipe without first calculating potential negative consequences.

"Cinnamon might complement the apples," she ventured, then added more boldly, "And perhaps a touch of that cardamom from breakfast?"

Wooyoung's face lit with disproportionate delight. "Exactly what I was thinking! Great minds clearly think alike about spice combinations."

As he reached for the suggested ingredients, Ella noticed him exchanging a brief glance with someone behind her. Turning, she discovered Hongjoong standing in the galley doorway, observing their interaction with unreadable expression.

"Captain," Wooyoung acknowledged, his tone maintaining its cheerfulness despite the sudden tension in his posture. "We're preparing a feast worthy of your most distinguished guest."

"So I see," Hongjoong replied, his eyes moving from Wooyoung to Ella and back again. "I apologize for the interruption. Please continue."

As he departed, Ella noticed how Wooyoung's shoulders relaxed incrementally, though his smile never wavered. The brief exchange suggested complexity beneath the surface of the officers' interactions—dynamics invisible to outsiders yet deeply significant to those involved.

"The captain doesn't cook?" she asked, keeping her tone casual despite her curiosity.

"Tragically, no," Wooyoung replied, resuming his food preparation with characteristic animation. "His talents lie elsewhere, though he appreciates good food with appropriate reverence."

"And the others?"

"Seonghwa can cook but insists on measuring everything with scientific precision—beautiful results but painfully methodical process. Yunho manages basic sustenance but lacks creative flair. And Mingi..."

He paused, a fond smile crossing his features. "Mingi actually has natural talent but gets uncomfortable with praise, so he pretends incompetence to avoid being drafted into kitchen duty."

This casual insight into the gunner's character caught Ella's attention. "He dislikes attention that much?"

"He prefers his work to speak for itself," Wooyoung explained, his typical humor giving way to thoughtful assessment. "Recognition makes him self-conscious, though he deserves it more than most."

The observation aligned with her own impressions of Mingi—his evident discomfort when Hongjoong had praised his mechanical innovations, the way he deflected attention even while taking evident pride in his work. These characteristics seemed unlikely to be recent developments; they spoke of deeply ingrained personality traits rather than temporary circumstances.

As they completed dinner preparations, delivering steaming dishes to the officers' mess where the others had begun to gather, Ella found herself studying each man with renewed attentiveness. Their individualized mannerisms, their established dynamics, the subtle ways they accommodated each other's strengths and sensitivities—all suggested relationships developed over years rather than months.

These were not men who had recently formed alliance for convenience or profit. They functioned as a cohesive unit built on profound mutual understanding and trust. Such bonds required time to develop, particularly among people shaped by the harshness of pirate existence.

When had their journeys intersected? How had five such different personalities forged such seamless collaboration? And why did their presence trigger such persistent sense of familiarity in her own consciousness?

As they settled around the dinner table—the same configuration as the previous evening, with Hongjoong at the head, Seonghwa to his right, and the others arranged accordingly—Ella found herself watching their interactions with new intentness. Something connected these men beyond current circumstance, something that predated their present roles and responsibilities.

"The compote was Ella's inspiration," Wooyoung announced as dessert was served. "Specifically, the spice combination."

All eyes turned briefly toward her, reactions varying from Seonghwa's raised eyebrow to Yunho's warm smile. Most interesting was Hongjoong's response—a flash of something that might have been recognition quickly masked by polite acknowledgment.

"It's excellent," the captain noted, his voice carefully neutral. "You have good instincts for flavor harmony."

"Wooyoung deserves the credit," she demurred. "I merely suggested; he executed."

"Creative collaboration," Yunho offered, his gentle voice carrying surprising authority. "Often produces results neither party could achieve alone."

"Like our rigging system," Mingi added unexpectedly, the rare voluntary contribution drawing momentary surprise from his companions.

"Exactly," Yunho agreed, evident pleasure in his expression. "Or Seonghwa and Hongjoong's navigation innovations."

The conversation shifted naturally to other examples of collaborative success aboard the ATEEZ, revealing an organizational culture that valued combined expertise over individual achievement. Throughout, Ella observed how easily these men communicated, their interactions reflecting years of shared experience and mutual understanding.

As the meal concluded and the officers began discussing watch schedules and navigational matters, Ella found herself stifling a yawn. The day's activities—physical, intellectual, and emotional—had drained her more thoroughly than she'd realized.

"You should rest," Seonghwa observed, his attention to detail apparently extending to others' well-being. "Today has been demanding."

"I'm fine," she began automatically, then caught herself. In Blackwell's household, acknowledging fatigue invited exploitation of perceived weakness. Here, such calculation seemed unnecessary. "But perhaps you're right," she amended. "It has been an eventful day."

"Wooyoung and I will handle cleanup," Yunho offered. "You've done more than your share in food preparation."

"And I promised you stargazing," he added with a gentle smile. "Though perhaps tomorrow night would be better, when you're properly rested."

The considerate rescheduling touched her unexpectedly. Throughout her captivity, her preferences and physical limits had been irrelevant to those with power over her. This simple acknowledgment of her needs—without exploitation or judgment—represented novel respect for her humanity.

"Thank you," she said simply. "Tomorrow night would be perfect."

As she rose to depart, Hongjoong addressed her directly. "We'll continue our discussion of Blackwell's operations tomorrow morning, if you're amenable. There are several strategic aspects I'd like to explore further."

"Of course, Captain," she agreed, recognizing the return to their formal arrangement. Whatever moments of casual interaction had occurred today, the underlying purpose of her presence remained clear: she was valuable primarily for her knowledge of their target.

Yet as she made her way to her cabin, nodding acknowledgment to crew members she passed, Ella found herself questioning this straightforward assessment. If information about Blackwell was their sole objective, why the careful consideration of her comfort? Why the grant of relative freedom within the ship? Why the personal interactions beyond formal interrogation?

The paradox troubled her as she prepared for sleep, removing her shoes and outer clothing but maintaining sufficient attire for quick movement if necessary. Fifteen years of captivity had taught her never to be completely vulnerable, even during rest. Yet for the first time in memory, she felt secure enough to consider genuine relaxation rather than merely strategic recuperation.

As she settled onto the small but comfortable bed, Ella whispered her nightly ritual—the five names that had sustained her through fifteen years of survival: "Joongie, Hwa, Woo, Yuyu, Puppy."

Tonight, the childish nicknames carried new resonance, echoing with the day's experiences aboard the ATEEZ. The careful, strategic captain with his searching gaze. The methodical quartermaster with his precise movements. The cheerful cook with his playful instruction. The gentle boatswain with his star knowledge. The quiet gunner with his eloquent designs.

Five men, five boys, five names preserved through fifteen years of determined recitation.

Coincidence? Or something more significant?

Ella drifted toward sleep with these questions circling through her consciousness, no closer to certainty than when the day began. Yet something had shifted within her—a cautious openness to possibility that transcended her habitual suspicion.

Tomorrow would bring further interaction, additional observation, more opportunities to assess the true nature of her situation aboard the ATEEZ. For tonight, she would allow herself the luxury of dreamless sleep, secure in the knowledge that whatever game was being played, she remained an active participant rather than merely a pawn.

In the quiet darkness of her cabin, with the gentle rocking of the ship beneath her and the vast starlit sky above, Ella surrendered to rest more complete than she had known since childhood.

[moonlight-prose]

hi! just watched someone like you last night & i saw your requests were open for eddie 😫

either:

1. "did you just wash these sheets?" "i did." "they smell nice. and they're still warm."

or

2. "we should really get up." "we should....but we won't."

whichever you like better!! they both screammm eddie to me

love is here to stay

a/n: what i wouldn't give to cuddle with this man in the mornings. possibly making him late for work as other things ensue. and i've always tied jazz songs to movies from the early 2000s and 90s. so this is based off the ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong song. i fear i'm down bad for this man and would love to have him be my boyfriend.

summary: mornings where the summer heat was unbearable and energy was nowhere to be founr, made getting up a difficult task. add a sleepy eddie and a multitude of kisses and suddenly it became near impossible.

word count: 1k

pairing: eddie alden x reader

warnings: semi-explicit so 18+ ONLY!!, summer heat eviserating anything fun, banter, eddie being a fucking tease, sweat, he calls the pussy her, comfy loving scenario.

New York City roared to life on the other side of your apartment wall. Chatter of people shouting, horns of taxis already stuck in morning traffic. Not even your shut and locked window could block each noise that came through. It was a place that demanded to be heard the second the sun rose up in the dark blue sky.

You mumbled something unintelligible, hand reaching for the covers that were no doubt kicked to the bottom of the bed. Halfway through the night the air shut off—effectively making your place a hellscape with no chance of avoidance.

What began as a night filled with naked skin and fast bitten thrusts, turned to the both of you sleeping as far away as humanly possible. You were almost certain if you opened your eyes you'd find Eddie at the edge of the mattress—his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Matching you completely.

"Mm," he groaned into his pillow, flipping over to his side, an arm flinging around your bare waist. "You move too much."

"Shut up," you muttered.

You could feel the tendrils of a somewhat breeze filter in through the living room where you'd left the fire escape window open. Neither of you bothered to shut it after the glass of wine and shared cigarette turned to stripping him of his shirt and you of your pants. It felt like a miracle you made it to the bedroom at all—his body collapsing atop yours with a pained groan; hands grasping for any piece of plushness he could find.

"Make me." Even in sleep he managed to grin like a tease. His eyes shut and hand shifting to cup your bare ass. "Feels like you want to," he sighed around a half yawn.

You shuffled closer, cheek pressed to his chest. "Feels like the fuckin' world is on fire."

He tapped your ass. "That it is baby."

What little energy you could gather was bled from your body the longer you lay there. Summer eviscerated any means of joy in your life. What could you do? Hiding inside was all you had left in order to escape the heat. Now even that left you withering against his torso—body slick with sweat that would only return moments after you washed it off.

"Eddie," you yawned, throwing your arm over his stomach. He offered a grunt; the heat now muddling his brain and cutting off his ability to form words. "You work today?"

His arm raised above his head, onto the pillows beneath him. (Pillows he stole in the middle of the night.)

"I could," he sighed. "Got lots to do at work."

"Ah. I forgot. Big time hot shot."

The audible smack of his hand landing harder on your ass made you laugh; your leg kicking out to deter his attacks. He couldn't help it. Toying with your flesh was the highlight of his mornings. His eyes creeped open, lips tugging into a lazy grin that screamed drowsiness. Only to watch as he jiggled your flesh—fingers kneading at you like a fucking cat who just found the softest pillow in the world.

"Unless you intend to fuck me stupid Alden. I'd stop that."

His head fell back with a raspy groan. "Got no energy to fuck you stupid baby." You glanced at him, chin resting on his chest. "How about I just fuck ya? Huh?"

"Stupid or no deal," you mumbled.

"My cock is gonna be begging for you all day."

"Too bad." You smiled, pressing a kiss to the hair that nestled in between his pecs. "Shoulda thought of that before you didn't call the super to fix the fuckin' air."

His sigh was wistful—-relenting. "Yeah I know. I'll call 'em today."

The city took over your conversation when silence began to filter in between the cracks of your haven. In this small bedroom, you were safe. Content even as the warmth of your lover began to stick to your skin and cause discomfort. Moving wasn't an option. Nor was taking a cold shower.

So you remained there, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath.

"We should really get up," he muttered, head turning to face the window.

The sun came through your sheer curtains, casting a shadow along the hardwood floor. You marveled at how picturesque it was—how heavenly.

"We should..." You placed another kiss against his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat along your tongue. He groaned, his eyes meeting yours. "But we won't."

"Baby," he breathed.

Your eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about it Eddie."

"C'mon!" he laughed. "Lemme eat your pussy. I'll be really nice to her."

"Fuck off. 'S too hot." You buried your face into his skin, biting back the peal of laughter he could tell lay on the tip of your tongue.

"All I'm saying is she's never not liked my tongue down there."

The loud smack you land to his stomach causes a howl of laughter to erupt from his chest. His body rolling over to trap you beneath him—pressing you down into the mattress as he bit at your neck. Another echo of the city poured in through the open door, cracking through the bubble you both resided in. But the feel of Eddie trailing kisses down your stomach killed every sound that didn't belong to him.

"Too hot my ass," he mumbled along your hip bone, teeth scraping the skin hard enough to draw a moan from your lips. "It's never too hot to have something sweet, baby."

You smiled, curling your fingers into his hair. "I hate you."

"You love me," he retorted, drawing your thighs up and over his shoulders. "Admit it."

When he looked at you like this: eyes bright enough to put even the sun to shame. How could you say anything but yes?

[youaintnothinbuta]

“Are we there yet?” - Dad!Austin Butler x Mom!reader

Summary: You and Austin, and your little girl are making the long drive to your lake house for a few days in summer, which is never the easiest drive with a little one.

Pairing: Dad!Austin x mom!reader

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: none- fluff!! Dad!Austin! Hopefully no typos but you know how I am <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was early afternoon when you, Austin, and Ella set off on the long drive to your lake house. The summer sun was high in the sky, casting a bright, warm light across the road. Austin was behind the wheel, dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt, and you sat in the passenger seat, wearing a light summer dress with your hair pulled back in a loose braid. Your five-year-old daughter was nestled in the backseat, her favorite stuffed giraffe clutched tightly in her arms.

Ella was full of energy, leaning forward against her seatbelt, pointing out everything they passed. “Look, Daddy! A red truck!” she shouted, her voice bubbling with excitement. “And there’s a blue car! And cows! Look, Mama, cows!”

You turned in your seat, smiling at her wide-eyed wonder. “I see them, Ella! What sound do cows make?” You asked, playfully encouraging your daughter.

“Mooo!” Ella giggled, making the sound loud and enthusiastic, causing Austin to chuckle.

You continued your journey, with Ella calling out every new sight—fields of wildflowers, clusters of trees, a barn in the distance. You and Austin exchanged amused glances, enjoying your daughter's unbridled excitement. But as the time passed and the scenery became more monotonous, Ella’s energy began to wane.

She started shifting in her seat, her brow furrowing in frustration. “Are we there yet?” she asked, her voice starting to edge with impatience.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Austin replied gently, his eyes still focused on the road. “We’ve got a little while to go, but we’re getting closer.”

Ella sighed dramatically, slumping back. “I’m bored,” she whined, kicking her legs against her car seat. “And my butt hurts!”

You glanced back at her with a sympathetic smile. “I know, honey, long drives can be tough,” you said soothingly. “How about we play a game? I spy with my little eye… something green!”

Her eyes lit up for a moment, and she looked out the window eagerly. “Is it… a tree?” she guessed.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Good job, sweetie!” But after a few rounds, Ella’s enthusiasm started to fade again. She shifted restlessly, her face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Mama, I’m tired,” she whined, her voice a bit tremulous now. “I don’t like this anymore. I want to get out!”

You and Austin exchanged a glance, knowing what was about to come. “I know, baby,” Austin said in his calm, soothing voice. “I know it’s hard to sit for so long, but we’re going to have so much fun when we get there, right?”

Ella didn’t seem convinced. She started to squirm around in her seat, her buckle tightened over her chest, only adding to the frustration, and a few moments later, the whining turned into soft crying, her little face scrunched up as tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I want out, Daddy!” she sobbed. “Please, I want to get out!”

You turned in your seat as much as she could, reaching your hand back to your daughter. “Oh, Ella, I know it’s hard, baby,” you murmured softly. “Here, let me help you feel more comfortable.” You gently draped a soft blanket over her legs and carefully removed her shoes. “There, sweetheart. Just rest a little bit, okay? We’re almost there.”

Ella continued to cry softly, but she clung to your hand, finding some comfort in her mother’s touch. You kept your hand there, softly stroking Ella’s tiny fingers while humming a calming tune. “Close your eyes, sweet girl,” you whispered. “Just rest for a bit.”

Gradually, Ella’s cries turned into soft sniffles, and then, as the steady rhythm of the car and the warmth of the blanket took over, her eyes fluttered closed. Her little chest rose and fell with steady breaths as she finally drifted off to sleep.

Austin glanced over at you, a gentle smile on his face. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

You smiled back. “It’s a joint effort,” you replied softly, continuing to hold Ella’s hand until you were sure your daughter was deep asleep.

After a couple of hours, just as you were about twenty minutes away from the cabin, Ella began to stir.

She blinked her eyes open, her small face creasing with a yawn. She sat up slowly, looking around in confusion before realizing where she was. “Mama?” she mumbled sleepily.

You turned around, smiling warmly. “Hey, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?”

Ella nodded, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “I think so,” she murmured.

Austin looked at her in the rearview mirror, smiling. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Good,” she replied, still groggy. Then, her eyes widened, and she pointed out the window. “Look, Daddy! A deer!” she exclaimed, her earlier excitement returning.

Austin glanced in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, a deer stood just off the side of the road, watching them with curious eyes. “Good spotting, El!” he said, grinning. “We’re almost there, sweetheart. Just a little longer.”

Ella perked up at this news. “Really? How much longer?”

“About twenty minutes,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a reassuring smile. “And then we’ll be at the cabin, and you can stretch your legs and run around all you want.”

Ella’s face lit up with a smile. “Okay! I can wait twenty minutes,” she declared, sitting up straighter in her seat.

You continued down the winding forest roads, the scenery changing from thick clusters of trees to the sparkling surface of the lake as you drew nearer. When you finally pulled up to the cabin, nestled among the trees with a clear view of the water, Ella’s excitement returned in full force.

“We’re here! We’re here!” she squealed, bouncing in her seat.

Austin chuckled, pulling the car into the driveway and putting it in park. “Alright, we made it!” he announced, turning to look at you and Ella.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned around to Ella. “Okay, El, let’s get you out,” you said, opening your door and stepping out. You came around to the back, opening her door and carefully helping her out of her seat.

Ella jumped down, stretching her arms wide. “Yay! We’re here!” she cheered, looking up at the tall trees around them.

Austin smiled as he stepped out of the car, stretching his back before heading to the trunk to grab the bags. “I’ll get everything,” he called over his shoulder. “You two go inside.”

You took Ella’s hand, guiding her toward the front door. Ella nodded eagerly, squeezing your hand. “Mommy! Can we go down to the water?”

“Of course, sweetheart. We’ll do that as soon as we get settled in,” you replied, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Austin was making trips between the car and the house, his strong arms loaded with your things, dropping everything off in the doorway. Ella giggled, running up to him and wrapping her arms around his legs.

Austin smiled, handing Ella her swimsuit, “if you ask mama nicely, she might help you get changed so you can get into the water.”

Ella looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, “Please mama? Please?”

“Alright, monkey, come on, let’s go to your bedroom.” You said, gently guiding her out of Austin’s way so he could bring everything in and get the fridge all stocked up for the weekend without Ella running laps around him.

[floatyflowers]

Hola como esta disculpe la molestia pero por favor podria crear una historia de Jacaerys X Reader "semilla de dragon"x Dareon algo asi como que Dareon lastimara a rader y ella se fuera de antigua y años despues conociera a Jacaerys y se enamorara de el luego en una vatalla se encontrara con Dareon y este intentara recuperar su amor y la ventaja de 1 dragon pero ella ama a jacaerys y no se deje manipular por dareon por favor le deseo lo mejor disculpe por molestar

Translation: Hello, how are you, sorry for the inconvenience, but could you please create a story about Jacaerys In a battle she will meet Dareon and he will try to regain her love and the advantage of 1 dragon but she loves Jacaerys and do not let herself be manipulated by Dareon. Please I wish her the best. Sorry for bothering you.

You have been married to your twin, Jace, right before the war for duty, but before marriage, you were in contact with Daeron through letters.

Both of you are best of friends since childhood, and this is a secret you both kept from your family.

After war, you didn't answer any of his letters in fear of your mother and husband finding out.

However, you answered one letter where he requests that you both meet up in secret and try to end this war and achieve peace.

You always wished for peace from the beginning, so you agreed to the meeting, taking the chance where Jace was off to the Battle of the Gullet

As the sun started to set for the day, the sky turned into a mix of soft pink and orange.

The sea breeze caressed the shores, bringing up the salty scent with it.

Daeron stood at the beach, in a spot that wasn't too far from Oldtown and hidden behind rocks, just as the letter requested you both to meet.

A smile appeared on Daeron's face as he saw you walking towards him, his violet eyes locked with yours and the wind blew his silvery hair.

"I half expected you to not show up, I'm delighted to see that you disappointed my expections."

He said while holding his hands behind his back, a few feet away from him stood his she-dragon, Tessarion.

"I have missed you dearly" you confess with a smile, as you stop right infront of him.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you, taking in your beauty and the way your irises shined.

"I missed you too"

Daeron said, placing both of his hands on your cheeks, you hold into his hands in fear he might lean in further to place his lips against your.

"Daeron... The war"

You remind him about the real reason for the meeting, already starting to feel uneasy.

Daeron clenched his jaw, his eyes darkened as his voice became serious.

"I brought you here to open your eyes and bring you to the right side of the war"

Your eyes widens in shock, trying to pull away from him but his hold was too tight.

"Jacaerys doesn't deserve you nor your love" Daeron begins.

"I love him-" he cuts you off.

"You love him for duty as you have been always dutiful, but you know that the love between us is beyond duty or lust"

You shook your head in disagreement.

"Daeron, we are nothing but friends, I truely love Jace" You exclaim.

Your Targaryen uncle smirks, tilting his head.

"But does he love you?"

Hearing that, you frown in confusion.

"You know that there is some truth to rumors revolving around Jace having a relationship with Baela"

Knowing very well what Daeron is doing, he is using the information you revealed to him in letters about how Jace used to have a crush on Baela when you were children.

And you aren't stupid to fall for such manipulation.

"I still love Jace, and if you have brought me here to change my mind, then let me make it clear I will always support my mother as the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms"

Your declaration didn't faze him at all.

"You are naive to come here alone"

Realizing what he meant, you tried to rush to your dragon but it's too late when you see an army marching behind the beast, they hit your dragon with large arrows directed at the wings to stop it from flying.

"You have tricked me" you wail out in distress and betrayal.

Daeron places his lips against your before pulling away and placing his forehead against yours.

"I have done what is best for you, my heart"