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alxtiny · 4 months ago

Text

Ad Astra per Aspera

Episode 1

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood, blunt trauma to the head, starvation, improper jokes, hate able characters

Notes: lets see if y’all can guess who is who >.<

Playlist : asleep by the smiths | the great gig in the sky by pink floyd | under the water by aurora

Series Masterlist | Episode 2 | Prologue

"Move it, slave!” a gruff voice barked behind you, “I ain't got time for yer dainty little walk," you felt the crude shove of a sword poke into your back, the dirty steel pressing through the thin fabric of your shirt like an icicle. You stumbled forward, almost tripping over the uneven planks of the dock.

"Stop poking me!" You exclaimed, spinning around to glare at your tormentor. The chains binding your arms come up to shield your body. Your eyes were bright with fury. "I told you already, I am not a slave. I am a navigator, and I am getting on your infernal ship of my own volition. Take me to your captain; I have a deal to—"

"Quit runnin' yer mouth, lass, or I'll run you through with my sword," the crewman growled, clumsily swishing his blade around, making his inexperience known. His breath reeked of stale ale and rotting teeth, a look of disgust plastered itself across your face. His sword came to rest under your chin, pushing your face up. Exasperated, you raised your hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright," you muttered, rolling your eyes. With a resigned sigh, you dragged yourself up the gangplank, your boots clattering against the rough wood. The unimpressive ship seemed to loom above you menacingly, its sails furled and its deck swarming with activity.

The ship’s deck was a cesspool of filth and debauchery. Men lounged about in various states of drunkenness, their eyes glazed and their movements sluggish. The stench of unwashed bodies and rancid skin mingled with the salty spray of the sea, creating a miasma that made you gag. You could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on yourself, leering and appraising, as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

Around you, other women were being herded aboard, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear. Some were weeping, clutching at their tattered dresses, while others stared blankly ahead, in acceptance of their fate. Your stomach churned with a mix of disgust and anger. It was a slave trader’s ship. You had been foolish, utterly foolish, to let yourself be tricked into coming here.

It had all started at the pub, a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall frequented by sailors and all that. You had been celebrating a successful voyage, your pockets heavy with the gold you had earned as a navigator. A group of men had approached you, claiming they so desperately needed your skills to guide their ship through such treacherous waters. It stoked your ego of course, you couldn’t resist.

But it had all been a lie. They had swindled you, drugged your unguarded drink, and taken you prisoner. You had awoken, bound and gagged, surrounded by the same men who now leered at you from the ship’s deck. The gold was all gone, except a few coins you had kept hidden in your boots. You clenched your fists, cursing your own naivety.

The crewman prodded at your back again, forcing you to keep moving. You glaring back at him, he laughed as if this was all just a fun game. He was a squat, greasy man with a pockmarked face, a half shaven beard and a cruel glint in his eye. His clothes were dirty and ill-fitting, and sweat dripped down the sides of his face.

"Where’s the captain?" You demanded, your voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I want to speak to him now."

The crewman snorted, a sound that was more pig than human. "You don't make demands here, lass. You do as you're told, or you'll end up in the bilge with the rats." He grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into your flesh, and dragged you towards the stern of the ship.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you were marched through the ship's dingy corridors, the air thick with the smell of salt and rotting wood. The two burly crewmen escorting you, stopped before a large, ornately carved door. One of them knocked twice, and a muffled voice from within barked for them to enter.

You were pushed into the room, stumbling over the threshold. The interior was a stark contrast to the squalor of the rest of the ship. Rich tapestries lined the walls, and the floor was covered with a plush, but stained, rug. At the far end of the room, behind a desk cluttered with a pile of maps and papers, and an even higher pile of dirty cutlery, sat the captain.

He was an unimposing figure in terms of height but made up for it in girth. His ample belly strained against the buttons of a once-white shirt now stained with the remnants of countless meals. Various condiments had left their mark, creating a painting of greasy splotches. His bald head glistened under the lamplight, a poorly matched toupee perched precariously atop his head. A smattering of fake gold jewellery adorned his fingers and neck, clinking as he moved.

The ‘captain’ looked up from his desk, a lecherous grin spreading across his bloated face. His small, beady eyes raked over you, lingering with a predatory gleam. "Well, well, what have we here?" he slurred, his voice thick with the effects of cheap alcohol.

You could barely suppress a shudder of disgust. The smell of rot and smoke wafted towards you as he rose from his chair, his movements slow and ungainly. He waddled closer, his breath heavy with the scent of decay. You took an involuntary step back, your skin crawling as he reached out to cup your chin with his pudgy fingers.

"Oh yess," he crooned, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "A rare beauty indeed. You'll fetch a pretty penny, my dear. Or perhaps... you might be of use to me in other ways." His grip tightened, and you winced as his grimy nails bit into your skin.

"I am a navigator," you said through gritted teeth, trying to keep your voice steady. "Not a commodity to be sold or used. If you have any sense, you'll let me do my job and not treat me like chattel."

The man threw back his head, a shrill laugh erupting from his throat. His greasy face twisted into a cruel grin, his yellowed teeth bared like a predator toying with its prey.

"Oh please," he scoffed, shaking his head. "A woman as a navigator? As if." He turned slightly, gesturing to the room around him, where the other men chuckled in agreement. "Women are bad luck on ships. You're lucky you're being sold, girl. With your looks, some rich man might buy you. Keep you as a little whore, maybe."

His mocking tone made your blood boil. You clenched your fists, feeling the heat rise in your chest, but you forced yourself to maintain composure. He was trying to provoke you, belittle you, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crumbling under his words.

"Bad luck? You’re the one who's unlucky," you snapped, lifting your chin defiantly. "I’ve navigated through storms worse than your ship can survive and waters darker than that stain on your shirt. Without someone like me, you'd be lucky to avoid running aground before dawn. Sell me off if you want, but it'll be your loss when you're stranded out there with nothing but your ignorance and superstitions."

His eyes darkened, the amusement in them turning cold as he stepped closer, his breath rancid against your face. He laughed again, quieter this time, but more sinister.

"You've got fire," he sneered. "But fire snuffs out quick at sea. And I don’t need some chit telling me how t’ run my ship." He tilted his head, considering you for a moment, before his lips twisted into a nasty smirk. "Tell you what. Since you're so eager to prove your worth... If you can lead me and my crew to the next port—alive—I’ll consider giving you a job."

You felt a flicker of hope, but it was quickly snuffed out by his next words.

"Not that I believe for a second you can," he continued, gesturing dismissively to one of his men. "Put her in the chart room. Give her the old maps and tools. Let's see what she can do with those rusty relics."

His men seized you roughly by the arms and dragged you down a narrow corridor. The stench of mildew filled the air as they threw open the door to a small, dimly lit room. It was more of a storage closet than a proper chart room. Tattered maps lay strewn across a dust-covered table, their edges crumbling from age. Instruments sat in a pile on the floor, as if someone threw them in and forgot about them eons ago. It was an insult to your craft.

The door slammed shut behind you, and you were left in the damp silence. You glared at the mess in front of you, wiping your hands on your pants as you surveyed the room. Some of the instruments were so worn they might not even function properly anymore.

"These fools wouldn’t know how to chart a course if their fucking lives depended on it," you muttered under your breath, grabbing the least-damaged map from the pile. Your hands shook as you unfurled it, your mind already racing to piece together what little you could.

Your eyes traced the faded lines, the names of ancient ports barely legible. But you had no choice. You needed to find a way to navigate this ship to safety—not just for yourself, but because proving them wrong had become more than just a matter of pride.

Hours passed as you pored over the charts, plotting a course that would take them through the least dangerous waters. You marked out safe harbours and potential hazards, making notes on a scrap of parchment. By the time you finished, your head was pounding and your eyes were heavy with fatigue.

You leaned back in the rickety chair, staring up at the ceiling. The ship creaked and groaned around you, the sound of waves lapping against the hull felt like a little man hammering away into your skull. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of rest. You knew that the coming days would be difficult, but you were quite determined to survive, to find a way out of this hellhole.

As the ship rocked gently on the waves, you drifted off to sleep, your dreams filled with visions of making way to faraway shores.

Over the course of the next two weeks, you poured every ounce of your skill and determination into navigating the ship through open waters and rapidly changing currents. The vast expanse of the open sea stretched out before you, a canvas of endless blue under the watchful eye of the sun and moon, and the occasional dark clouds that wept above you. You worked tirelessly, plotting courses, adjusting sails, and ensuring the ship stayed on a safe path. You had already saved them from a deadly storm and a series of hidden reefs, but despite your invaluable contributions, you were more like a prisoner than a respected navigator.

Every night, you could feel the disgusting gazes of the revolting crewmen following you around as you moved about the deck, their crude catcalls and whistles echoing through the darkness. Their words, filled with suggestive taunts and vulgarity, went on with a break. You were tired of it all. You would quicken your pace, doing your best to avoid their lustful stares, but the feeling of being watched never left you.

Not to mention your living quarters were nothing less than abysmal. You had been given a tiny, fishy-smelling cabin barely large enough to fit a untrustworthy hammock and a simple, rickety chair. The walls were damp, the paint was peeling and mould hung around rent free. The cabin had no proper bathroom, just a cracked basin for washing, and you were forced to bathe with your clothes on to preserve some semblance of privacy and dignity. The limited water you were allotted was often murky, tainted by the ship's grime and filth.

Meals were a farce. The crew seemed to take pleasure in your discomfort, providing you with nothing more than stale, dry bread, hardened fish and tepid water, barely enough to keep you alive. Your stomach grumbled constantly, a relentless gnawing hunger that left you feeling weak and light-headed. You would sit in your cramped cabin, picking at the bread, trying to muster the strength to face another day. It was a test of endurance, a form of torture that gnawed away at your resolve with each passing hour.

Despite your dire circumstances, you knew you had no choice but to obey. Your earlier demands had placed you in a dangerous position, and any hint of defiance could tilt the balance against your favour. You walked a thin line, a weak rope that even a trapeze artist would refuse.

On your sixteenth day on the ship, you woke up earlier than usual, to the soft creaking of the ship, your senses still dulled by the fitful sleep that had become your nightly routine. The confines of your smelly, damp cabin felt more oppressive each day, the weak hammock beneath you barely providing rest. You stretched your aching limbs and splashed your face with the dull water from the cracked basin, trying to shake off the persistent lethargy that clung onto you like a second skin. The stale bread left from your last meal sat untouched on the rickety chair, your stomach too nauseous to consider eating.

You were in the midst of your daily routine, preparing for another gruelling day of work, the same work you once enjoyed now seemed like an unnecessary pain. You prepared to walk out of the cabin, dreading the unwanted attention from the others, when a sudden, deafening boom echoed through the ship. The floorboards shuddered beneath your feet, and the air seemed to recoil with the force of the explosion. For a moment, you stood frozen in place, your mind struggling to process the cacophony of sounds that followed—the clamour of footsteps, the frantic shouts, and the ominous creaking of the ship as it tilted to one side, making you stumble.

Your heart raced as you heard the muffled sounds of screaming and scurrying outside your door. Panic surged through your veins, and you moved to the door, only to find it locked from the outside. You cursed under your breath, tears welling up in your eyes. The realisation that you were trapped, powerless to escape whatever chaos had engulfed the ship, sent a wave of despair crashing over you.

“Pirates! Save yourself!” someone screamed, their voice raw with terror. The slurred shrieks of the slaver captain followed, barking out orders with a frantic urgency. “Abandon ship! No first- Get me out of here!”

Your pulse quickened as you grasped the small window set high in your door. It was just out of reach. You grabbed the chair, its legs wobbly and unstable, and clambered onto it, pressing your face to the grimy glass. You could see only a narrow slice of the chaos outside, figures darting back and forth in a desperate frenzy. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid smoke that drifted through the corridors.

As you strained to see more, a thud shook the door, and the chair beneath you wobbled alarmingly. You let out a strangled cry, gripping the edges of the window for balance. The sound of gunshots reverberated through the wooden walls, each one a sharp, violent punctuation in the symphony of terror. A thick, dark liquid began to seep through the crack at the bottom of the door, pooling on the floor beneath your feet. You felt your stomach churn as the realisation hit you—blood.

You screamed, a raw, primal sound that tore through your throat, and the colour drained from your face. You banged on the door, your fists bruising against the wood, but your cries were lost in the maelstrom of chaos outside.

Suddenly, a voice pierced through the din, smooth and chillingly calm. “Found a slave in here,” it called out, its tone laced with a seductive menace that made your skin crawl. You pressed your ear to the door, straining to catch a glimpse of your would-be captors, but your vision swam with tears and fear.

Before you could react, a hand slammed against the window, and the force of the impact sent your chair teetering. You lost your balance, falling hard to the floor, your head striking the rough wood with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in your skull, and your vision blurred. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, mingling with the distant sound of voices and the echo of your own screams.

The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the vague outline of a figure moving past the window, and the door being wrenched open with a splintering crack. The scent of salt and gunpowder filled your nostrils, mingling with the coppery tang of blood. The voice, with its cruel, mocking lilt, whispered one last chilling phrase as consciousness slipped away. “This one will fetch a fine price.”

The voice, gruff and edged with impatience, cut through the haze of your fading consciousness. "Yeah, first we need to fix that nasty gash in the side of her head."

Everything went black.

When you finally stirred, it felt like an eternity had passed. Your head throbbed with a deep, pulsing ache, and your limbs felt as if they were weighed down with stones. You groaned, your voice a rasping whisper for water, as you struggled to open your eyes. The light in the room was blinding, stabbing into your skull with every tiny flicker.

Slowly, painfully, you turned your head, your vision swimming in and out of focus. The room around you was dimly lit, the walls rough and shadowed. The scent of salt and damp wood filled the air, but it was the figure by your side that drew your attention. A man stood there, dressed in a white tunic splattered with dull red and brown stains. You blinked, your foggy mind trying to make sense of it all.

"Where... where am I? How long was I out?" You croaked out, your throat dry and raw.

The man turned, and for a moment, all thoughts of pain and confusion fled your mind. He was the most striking man you had ever seen, with piercing brown eyes and a rugged handsomeness that made your breath catch in your throat. His blonde hair was tied back in a careless manner, stray strands framing his sharp features.

You let out a disbelieving chuckle, your words slipping out before you could stop yourself. "Yep, I’m dead, and there’s even an angel here to take me away."

The man's expression twisted into a snarl at your words, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Ain’t an angel, lass. I’m a doctor. I fixed you up, but now you’ll be sent off somewhere, I guess."

Your mind stuttered to a halt, confusion crashing over her. You’re stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. Suddenly, panic flared in your chest, and you bolted upright despite the sharp pain that tore through your body.

"Wait, what?" You gasped,your heart pounding wildly.

"You heard me," he replied, his tone flat but certain.

"But why?" you questioned, your voice trembling with both confusion and fear.

The man approached you, his demeanour calm and seemingly harmless as he carried a box filled with strange bottles and vials and a glass of water. “I dunno. My job was to patch you up, doll. The rest is up to the captain to decide.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Wait, captain? This is a ship—are you pirates?!" you screeched, your voice rising in panic. Instinctively, you shifted further up on the bed, clutching the sheets tightly against your chest as if they could somehow protect you from whatever horrors awaited.

The man laughed, the sound a low rumble in his chest. “What, you thought you were back in whatever noble house you came from?”

“N-no,” you stammered, the denial slipping from your lips before you could even process it. “Of course not, but… what do you want from me?”

The man sighed, a trace of weariness in the sound, before a small awkward smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Let me put some ointment on your wound,” he said, gesturing to the box he carried. “Then I’ll take you to the captain. He’ll decide your fate... don’t worry, sometimes……. he’s merciful.”

A look of horror passed over your face, the weight of his words sinking in. But as much as you wanted to fight, to resist, you knew you had no choice. Once again you were trapped. With trembling hands, you released your grip on the sheet and took the glass of water he held towards you. You took a few sips before gulping it down and allowing him to come nearer.

He moved with a practised ease, gently unwrapping the gauze from around your head. You hadn’t even realised it was there, there was dull throbbing in your skull because of whatever injury you had sustained. He dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth, wiping away the dried blood, and you flinched as the cold air touched the raw skin.

When he began applying the ointment, you winced, expecting the sting of pain to worsen. But instead, a soothing coolness spread across the wound, the pain ebbing away within minutes. It was as if the discomfort had never existed.

He finished wrapping your head in fresh bandages, his hands quick and efficient. You touched the side of your head, your mouth falling open in awe when you realised there was no more pain.

"You must have magic in your hands," you murmured, your voice filled with genuine wonder. "I barely feel any pain at all."

He smiled widely at your words, a touch of pride lighting up his eyes. “No magic, lass. Just a good bit of skill.” He extended a hand to help you stand, his grip firm and steady as he guided you to your feet .

You wobbled slightly, your legs feeling like jelly beneath you, but he steadied you with ease. With a nod, he led you out of the dimly lit room, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your chest as you headed toward whatever fate the captain had in store for you.

Stepping out of the door, you were immediately hit with a blast of hot, humid air, the salty tang of the sea filling your nostrils. The sunlight, far more intense than the dim lights of the room you had just left, assaulted your eyes, forcing you to squint against its brightness. As your eyes adjusted, you took in your surroundings, following the man down a narrow passage that led out onto the deck.

The deck was expansive, far larger than you had expected, and meticulously maintained. The dark wood beneath your feet was smooth and polished, almost gleaming in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the grimy, weathered deck of the ship you had been on before. Men moved about with a practised, almost military-like precision, their movements synchronised as they managed the sails and ropes with an efficiency that belied the chaos you had expected from a pirate crew. Voices rang out across the deck, some shouting orders, others responding with quick, sharp affirmations.

Your gaze was drawn upward to the towering mainmast, which seemed to loom over you like a giant, casting a long shadow across the deck. "We must be on the poop deck," you thought, your mind racing to make sense of the ship’s layout. Ahead of you, you could just barely make out the bowsprit extending far into the distance, the very tip of the ship. The grandeur of the ship astonished you, its size and the sheer opulence of its upkeep making you wonder just how rich these pirates must be.

The man led the way, his footsteps silent on the wooden planks as you followed closely behind, your eyes darting around to take in as much as you could. Despite the flurry of activity around you, none of the crew seemed to pay you any mind. They were too focused on their tasks to spare even a glance in your direction, as if your presence was of no consequence to them. The lack of attention should have reassured you, it was a relief from the constant surveillance you had on the slaver ship, but it only deepened the knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach.

As you reached the main deck, the man remained quiet, offering no explanation or comfort. The tension in your chest grew with each step, your heart pounding in rhythm with the ship's creaking timbers. Finally, you arrived at a small staircase that led down into another passage. This passage, in contrast to the bright sunlight above, was dark and foreboding, the walls closing in around you as you descended. The shift from light to dark was jarring, and you found yourself instinctively trying to close in on yourself, away from the shadows that seemed to press into you from all sides.

The man stopped at the end of the passage, in front of a large carved, heavy door that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. “Wait here,” he instructed, his voice curt but not unkind. He pushed the door open and slipped inside, leaving you standing alone in the darkness.

You stared at the door, your breath coming in shallow, anxious gasps. "This must be the captain’s room," you thought,your imagination running wild with all the possible horrors that could lie beyond that door. The longer you stood there, the more your nerves frayed, each second stretching out into an eternity. Your mind conjured up images of what the captain might be like—cruel, ruthless, and utterly terrifying. You could almost see his large figure and barbarous appearance.

Your heart raced, the silence around you thickening like a shroud. Every creak of the ship, every distant shout from the deck above, made you jump. You fought the urge to flee, knowing you had nowhere to go, no means of escape. All you could do was wait, your ability to overthink seemed to have reached a new level, until the door finally opened and you would come face to face with the man who held your fate in his hands.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, and the man stepped out, his expression unreadable. He gestured for you to go inside, but you hesitated, your feet rooted to the spot. The fact that he didn’t seem to be coming in with you made your heart pound even harder in your chest. When you still didn’t move, he gave you a gentle but firm push, and before you could protest, the door was closed behind you with a resounding thud.

You stumbled into the room, your breath catching in your throat as you took in your surroundings. The space was dimly lit, casting deep shadows across the walls, but you could tell it was large, much larger than the cramped quarters you had been kept in before. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with books, maps, and various trinkets that glimmered in the low light—treasures from far-off lands, you assumed. One side of the room was dominated by a large window that offered a breathtaking view of the endless sea, the horizon glowing with the last light of the setting sun. Just how long had you been waiting.

But what truly caught your attention was the man standing in front of the window, his back turned to you. He wore a black tunic that clung to his lean frame, the edges wrapped in black bandages that extended down to his palms. His tight leather pants emphasized his sharp, angular build, and though he wasn’t very tall, he exuded an aura of power and intimidation that filled the room. His hair was striking—half black, half white, styled into a short mullet that gave him an almost otherworldly appearance. He was nothing like you had imagined.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "H-hello?" you stuttered out, your words barely above a whisper.

The man turned slowly, revealing a face that was both haunting and mesmerising. What puzzled you most was the pair of dark sunglasses he wore, despite the fact that they were inside a dimly lit room. His lips curled into a menacing smile, one that sent a shiver down your spine. And then he spoke, his voice dripping with a honeyed malice, the same voice you had heard just before you had lost consciousness.

“Ahh, finally, the sleeping beauty is awake,” he drawled, his smile widening as he took a step toward her. His presence was suffocating, every movement deliberate and calculated. “Tell me, go ahead. Negotiate your life, beg if you must. Then we’ll see what to do with you.”

He moved to the large table in front of the window, sitting down with a casual grace that belied the danger he radiated. He propped his feet up on the table, the heavy black boots he wore catching your eye. They were stained with dark splotches of red, the sight of which made your stomach recoil.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out in stammers, very much unlike the confidence you held when you talked to the slavers. Your mind raced as you searched for something, anything, that might save you.

He lifted his sunglasses, his eyes were a striking grey, like an uncontainable storm. Suddenly the room felt even more suffocating than before.

“I said speak,” he commanded in a ruthlessly calm voice, it sent shivers down your spine. This man was something different.

You didn’t want to speak but words came out anyway, as if someone had physically forced you to. “I-I’m a navigator,” you blurted, your words tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. “I can help you—I’ve guided many ships through perilous waters. I can be useful to you. Please, if you spare me, I’ll do whatever you need. I’ve helped with multiple voyages, charted courses, and avoided storms…”

Your words trailed off as the man laughed, the sound echoing in the room like a cruel mockery. His laughter was sharp, cutting through your rambling pleas and leaving you in a stunned silence. You stood there, trembling, as his mirth subsided, feeling smaller and more like an insignificant fly everytime he looked you over.

Just as you were about to try again, the door behind you creaked open. You froze, your heart lurching in your chest as you heard the sound of boots on the wooden floor. You turned slightly, your eyes widening as seven men entered the room, including the one who had patched you up earlier. They spread out behind you, their presence like a barrier between you and the door, it made your knees weak.

The room felt much smaller now, the walls closing in on you as you stood there, trapped between the intimidating captain in front of you and the intimidating crew behind you. Your mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down on you as you realised just how dire your circumstances had become.

You looked around, your eyes darting from one man to the next, taking in their appearances and trying to read the expressions on their faces. Each one of them exuded a certain aura, something you couldn’t quite decipher. But the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to make your skin crawl.

The man in the centre, the one you assumed to be the captain, spoke again, his voice laced with a poisonous edge. “So, tell me, what should we do with this young lady here?”

One of the men stepped forward, his height almost matching that of the captain. He had a permanent smirk on his face, a look that immediately filled you with a sense of revulsion. “I told you earlier too—we should sell her. We’ll get paid a hefty sum for a pretty face like hers.”

Your expression twisted into one of disgust, your heart beating deafeningly at the casual cruelty in his words. But before you could react, another man spoke up, this one taller and far more muscular than the others. His broad shoulders and imposing frame made him look like a man who was used to handling trouble with his fists. “Hey, I thought we didn’t do that anymore,” he said, his tone almost childlike as he pouted, clearly not taking the situation as seriously as you wished he would.

The first man, with his smirk still firmly in place, shrugged, side eyeing his friend. “I was just joking,” he said, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Before you could process that, a third man cut in, his voice sharp and dismissive. “It’s all a waste. Just throw her into the water for the sharks. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.”

Her heart dropped at the suggestion, fear gripping you tightly, but then the man who had healed you spoke up, his voice carrying a note of annoyance. “Hey, then what did I do all that healing for if she was just going to become fish food? We could have thrown her in before I wasted my time.”

The men began to bicker among themselves, their voices rising and overlapping as they argued over your fate. It was as if your life was nothing more than a trivial matter to be debated, and it felt like a cold wet blanket had been dropped on top of you.

The captain, watching the chaos unfold, chuckled to himself. With a wave of his hand, he silenced the room, his voice cutting through the noise with ease. “Now, now, boys, let’s not be hasty. She said she’s a navigator, didn’t she?” He turned his gaze back to you, his expression unreadable. “You see, our last man accidentally tipped over into the ocean, so we’re in need of a new navigator. Why don’t you give it a go? If you fail, well…” He paused, an innocent look spreading across his face, though his eyes remained cold. “Maybe you’ll end up with him.”

You stared at him, aghast at his words. The casual way he spoke of life and death, as if they were nothing more than a game. This was not a man who valued life—at least, not the lives of those he deemed beneath him. And now, your fate rested in the hands of this man who would as easily toss you overboard as he would give you a chance to prove your worth.

Your mind raced, a deadweight pressing down on you. You had no choice but to accept his offer—if it could even be called that. But deep down, you knew that this was only the beginning of a difficult journey, you had to play your cards right.

You agreed hastily, your voice trembling as you thanked him for sparing your life. The captain laughed again, a sound that was more chilling than comforting, before turning his attention away from you. "Someone, show her the way to her cell—oops, I meant room," he ordered, a wicked grin stretching across his face as he returned to the window, sunglasses coming back down, cackling all the way.

As he stared out at the darkening horizon, another man, much taller and with a gaunt appearance, followed him. His hair was stark white, and there was something about his hollow cheeks and sunken black eyes that made you shiver. He leaned in close to the captain, whispering in hushed tones, their conversation too quiet for you to hear. you could only watch as the two men exchanged words.

The rest of the men began to file out of the room slowly, their presence still made you uneasy in the back of your mind. In the end two of the tallest still stayed behind, one of them placing a firm hand on your shoulder and pushing you forward slightly. He seemed friendlier than the others, and he quickly said, "Let’s go," in a tone that was almost reassuring.

As you made your way out of the captain’s quarters, you noticed that his friend, who had stayed silent, was indifferent and least interested in you. He kept flipping a small, gleaming blade in his hand, the metallic click of the weapon opening and closing sending a wave of anxiety through you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to stab himself—or worse, you.

The friendlier man, walking beside you, began to speak quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush as he droned on about the different parts of the ship and the engineering behind them. He spoke so fast that you could barely understand him, but at least his upbeat demeanour was a welcome change from the coldness you had faced so far. His enthusiasm, however, was lost on you; all you could think about was the blade flicking in the other man's hand and the fact that you were at the mercy of these pirates.

After what felt like an endless walk, they reached a small room, on the opposite side of the captain’s quarters and suspiciously close to the main deck. The indifferent man, his voice surprisingly deep, said, "We’re here," before pushing you inside. You barely had time to protest before he quickly closed the door and locked it with a solid click.

The cheery one spoke up from behind the door, his face appearing in the small, barred window set into it. "There’s food for you on the table, and some spare clothes in the chest near the bed. The clothes might be big, but you’ll have to make do for now. There are also spare sheets in the chest, some paper and pencils, and water, of course. The room is locked for your own safety, and if you need help, just tap loudly a few times under the flower painting over the bed—someone will come to you. Good night!" And with that, his face disappeared, leaving you alone in the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of boots echoing down the hallway until they, too, faded into nothingness. You stood there for a moment, shaken by the events of the day, unable to move or think. It was as if your body had finally caught up with the shock of it all, and you felt the weight of your situation settle heavily on your shoulders.

Slowly, you walked over to the table and saw the surprisingly good-looking food laid out for you. A nice bowl of hot stew, some fluffy bread, and roasted meat—simple, but more appetising than anything you had eaten in days. You sat down and began to eat, savouring every bite. You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until now, and the warmth of the food filled you with a small measure of comfort. As you ate, tears welled up in your eyes and slowly started to drip down.

After finishing your meal, you opened the chest near the bed and found a white tunic and a pair of black linen shorts. The tunic was big, but you managed to hold it together with your own belt, and though the shorts were also loose and came down to your knees, you made do with what you had. You then lay down on the bed, the soft sheets a welcome relief against your skin.

As you stared up at the ceiling, your mind raced with thoughts of the day’s events. How easily you had been spared from death, or worse, and how it all seemed almost too simple. Was it all just to scare you, or was there something deeper going on behind the scenes? The uncertainty of it all terrified you, and you felt a pang of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm you.

But as much as your thoughts tormented you, the heavy exhaustion of your body and the gentle rocking of the ship slowly pulled you into a dreamless sleep.

Comment under masterlist to be added to taglist

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist: @yandere-stories @passionandsuga @beabatiny @sadtoru @pixie0627 @nagynomi98 @bunnychui @nuggiesnuggetdog04

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royalarchivist · 1 year ago

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Pac: There's- there's like a tradition in Christmas when you place a kind of like a specific sign? Or a banner, I don't know how it works. And you have to kiss, right? When you are underneath of it. I don't know how it works, right? You know–

Fit: Oh, yeah. In English, it's called a mistletoe.

Pac: Mistletoe, yeah! [...] But watch out for the the mistletoe, Fit! You know?

Fit: Oh yeah? Why should I watch out, Pac?

Pac: You know, watch out like, you know – don't step too close of it!

Fit: Oh yeah, we wouldn't want that. Yeah.

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

Fit: Oh, yeah. In English, it's called a mistletoe.

Pac: Mistletoe, yeah! We can do a mistletoe here to help Tubbo, you know. He's always in a tough situation with Fred, maybe that can help him.

Fit: Well yeah! Maybe. You know, I think that's a good idea, that's a good yeah.

Pac: Yeah, nice.

Fit: Yeah yeah yeah.

Pac: Ok, but watch out for the mistle– the mistletoe, Fit! You know?

Fit: Oh yeah? Why should I watch out, Pac?

Pac: You know, watch out like, you know – don't step too close of it!

Fit: Oh yeah, we wouldn't want that. Yeah.

Pac: ...I'm afraid to place it. I'm afraid to place it now, Fit. [Laughs] I'm afraid to do it. You know, but like– that's just to help Tubbo, you know, he's always in a tough situation with Fred.

Fit: Yeah!

Pac: Maybe that's the little push he needed, right? 'Cuz they did the thing with the– the thing with the– in the Spawn with Bad and Forever, right?

Fit: Yeah...

Pac: Tubbo also deserves, you know?

Fit: I agree, I agree. But yeah, we– I mean, we definitely– you know, eventually, we can't forget to come back and take this down. You know? Like, eventually, like, 'cuz we have to clean up the decorations at some point, right? So like, we have to come back here eventually.

Pac: Eventually. Or maybe never.

Fit: [Laughs]

Pac: Maybe never. Maybe we just leave it there and forget about it!

Fit: Oh man...

#FitPac #Hideduo #FitMC #Pactw #QSMP #December 6 2023 #EDIT: WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN I MISSED PHIL LORE BECAUSE I WAS EDITING THIS #FFS #Fit #Pac #Edited

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peteytheparrot · 3 months ago

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Do you ever hear a song that fits your OC so well you’re just like

#ARSONIST’S LULLABYE FITS GINGER SO WELL IM ACTUALLY LIKE?? HAAKHSJAHSKEGSJSGJSHSH YALL AUWISHWIH-#I am. Not normal about my OCs.#Ok but it’s kinda crazy how the prologue I made for FF is so similar to one part of the song 😭😭😭😭😭😭#Also sighs I need to update the lore section on his toyhouse page

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thedevillionaire · 4 months ago

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Chosen

Much shorter than it has any right to be, given how long it's taken me to actually finish. Plot? Uh, no, not really. But anyhow... She's been away. He's been unwell.

---

He looks at her like she’s the most welcome hallucination he’s ever had.

Kia closes the door slowly behind her as she takes in this chaos of a makeshift apothecary, the loungeroom in an utter state of disarray and her beloved not faring much better, red-nosed and unshaven and dressed in a black silken pyjama and robe ensemble which, while inarguably stylish, was very definitely not his usual late afternoon wear.

And not at all what she had been expecting to come home to.

A miscellany of potions and concoctions and gods-know-what-elses lie scattered across the coffee table. A teacup, mostly empty. Two tissue boxes, one apparently even emptier than the teacup. Some sort of book...no, manual. Looks instructional. A wilderness of failed curatives.

Oh my god.

She walks further into the room. The air smells of menthol and embers.

“Babe, what are… Are you… What have you even been doing h…?”

You absolute beautiful total disaster.

“Trying not to… hh-HH …let thi…this-damn-cold…” Cerberus turns from her as his sentence dissolves, the syllables collapsing against one another in a desperate rush to give way to greater need and deep breath of purpose, and he raises a finger in urgent, undeniable pause. "Huh-TSSCH-uu!" Hurriedly claiming a series of tissues in a brief, expectant hiatus, he surrenders completely and sneezes again. "Hh-AATSCHH-uu! *snff-FF!*" A quiet groan in the aftermath. He excuses himself, adds another tissue to the set, blows his nose and immolates the lot. "Pardon me." He sighs. "Trying not to let this godsdamned cold win,” he manages, with an accompanying sharp sniffle. Neither heavy congestion nor the way his voice cracks slightly lessens any of the seething distaste in his tone.

“Oh, honey.” Kia brushes some errant hair back from his face. :Bless you.: She touches a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re getting your ass kicked.”

She offers him a soft smile to hopefully lessen a little bit of truth's sting. "C'mon, shift over," she says gently as she joins her beloved on the couch, nestling up beside him, resolutely ignoring every caution he tries to give her advising against doing so. Notably half-hearted as those cautions are.

Because while it’s true that he very much doesn’t want her to catch this, he’s also well aware it’s more than likely already too late for such concerns. The entire house is probably some sort of incubation epicentre. And, sincerity of expressed warnings aside, the entire sorry vista surely constitutes warning enough. He's fairly certain he couldn't look more biohazardous if he tried.

Cerberus sighs again, sniffling again immediately afterwards, and gives his bonded a look of resignation.

Further elaboration hardly seems necessary.

But also he doesn’t press the issue because in truth the last thing he wants is to send her away. He’s not even sure he has the energy to insist on it, anyway; he’d be infuriated about this entire ridiculous circumstance if he wasn’t so damn exhausted. So, small obligatory protests done, with another damp sniffle Cerberus shifts some disarrayed blanketry out of the way and wraps an arm around Kia’s waist, drawing her close.

Her soft perfume of violet, strawberry and vanilla is lost on him anywhere outside of memory right now, but her presence is more than enough and he closes his eyes for a moment, just appreciating the simple fact of her being here beside him at last; he's missed her immensely, constantly.

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to come back, if you wanted me here,” Kia muses as she nestles further into his heat, adding, “It wouldn't have been a big deal,” without accusation. She leans her head against his shoulder and looks up at him with gentle azure gaze, her unspoken thoughts of I’d always choose you. How do you still not know that? readable despite her not voicing them.

And he does, of course, know that – in fact, it’s the very reason he wouldn’t ask. Cerberus sniffles thickly, wiping his nose. “Ah, love. I'd hardly ask you to put yourself anywhere near this—" He gestures around the room in a general presentation of contempt for the whole situation. "—vortex of infectious absurdity,” he concludes, thick congestion lacing his words. He clears his throat but it doesn’t make any notable impact against the wreckery his voice has become. "And it's about your... *SNFF!* ...your autodoby."

Kia peers at him. “My…what?”

“Your au…” Cerberus, all too aware that several critical consonants are unequivocally not working for him, rolls his eyes at himself. Honestly. Taking another fresh succession of tissues from a very rapidly depleting supply, he blows his nose forcefully but completely ineffectively.

He excuses himself once more and tries again; it goes equally badly.

Kia, baffled, raises her hands in a friendly but very clear nope sorry babe no idea expression, accompanied by a gentle little laugh that she just can’t help.

A long-suffering and immensely frustrated look comes her way, followed by a resigned, defeated sigh as her beloved entirely gives up. “Free will.”

For a moment, this makes even less sense to Kia. “Why would…” she begins, but cuts herself off in triumphant realisation. “Oh, autonomy!” She laughs. "Oh, sweetheart."

“That’s what I s… hh-hh! I...” And even this is hijacked, and the Demon king capitulates entirely, doubling over desperate into crooked elbow, “Huh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-HEHTSCHuu!”

He takes some moments of bleary recovery, Kia's heartrate spiking alongside the :Gods, forgive me: Cerberus Mindsends her.

"Oh, bless you, babe." Kia doesn't try to fight the thrill that flashes through her and she wraps herself around her bonded to kiss him again; a kiss deeper, more needful, than is probably wise. But wisdom isn't what she's craving right now.

“You know what? You’re going to stop talking and let me make my own choices.” She brushes a stray lock of hair from his eyes, touches the softest of lingering kisses to his forehead and meets his gaze. :Talking really isn't working out for you anyway.: "And besides—" Another kiss, deeper again, and she presses her arousal against his, salacious, wanton.

:—you know we both want the same thing.:

---

#jeebus crispies it's been aeons #thank you so much to anyone who remembers who my darlings are lol #cerbia #cerberus #my writing #i have several other wips that are still 'ip' and i'm so annoyed at myself for being so slow about ALL OF THEM #it's ridiculous #oh if background lore matters to you: she's been away for a week and a half on important Caste-related duties #this fic is essentially a follow-up to my incognito piece 'and there will your heart be also'#but hopefully they also work as standalones #Aaaanyway #it's 1am in australia and i am going to post this and pass out #before i start second-guessing myself any more lol #anyway thank you SO much for reading and i'll try to take under six months to post again next time ffs 💞💞

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firestars-five · 1 year ago

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Political Courtships

Unlike normal courtships, political courtships are between notable cats from two Societies. The courtships are meant to produce kits which should inspire a length of peace between the Societies.

Cats wed via a political affair are called companions or envoy.

Currently, the only companions and kits in the Societies are:

Cloudpelt (Shadow Society) x unknown/deceased Wind = Wormwoodeye, Salamandershine, & Parrotcharm

Honeybright (River Society) x Waspflutter (Thunder Society) = Sagekit, Poppykit & Acornkit

#firestar's five #warrior cats #warriors rewrite #warrior cats au #ff! lore

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foldingfittedsheets · 8 months ago

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Most parents I think worry or wonder when their kid might finally start repeating swear words they hear. The tale of my initiation into the world of cursing was the subject of family lore however.

First, to set the scene, my nana spent a lot of time with me when I was young. She lived with us briefly and I firmly cemented my place as number one favorite grandchild by climbing up into her attic room to cuddle on the regular.

She’d take me on errands and watch me when my parents were at work. She even once lured me away when she ran into my dad watching me at a store. She didn’t think he was keeping a close enough eye and called me over to her a few aisles away.

I happily complied since I loved and recognized her, then we watched my dad for several minutes before he finally looked down, saw me missing, and panicked. “That’ll teach you to keep a better eye on her!” My nana scolded him, convinced that every babynapper was slavering for her precious redheaded grandbaby.

So one day my mom had me in the car. We were driving along and from my back seat I chirped, “Can we play pretend?”

My mom smiled, imagining I’d start narrating some silly adventure or something. “Sure.”

“Shit shit SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

My mom sat stunned in the front seat, baffled momentarily by the stream of cursing.

After careful questioning it was pretty obvious what had happened. My nana had sworn up a storm in front of me but didn’t want to come clean about it to my parents when I started repeating it. She’d instead invented a fun game and the rules were that I could only curse when we were playing our special pretend game.

My mom was furious, and my nana got a sound dressing down both for the cursing but more importantly for the lying.

My favorite time telling this story though was to a girl in high school. She listened with wide eyes then asked, “Did your mom fire her?”

“What?”

“Your nana? Did she get fired?”

“My…. Grandmother? Did my mom fire my grandmother??”

“Ohhhhh. Not the nanny then.”

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #writing #story #shit kids say #I’m sick and channeling lore #family lore #nana

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jtl-fics · 1 year ago

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Aaron likes FF.

He’s a good friend to have and he’s been doing Aaron a huge favor this semester by tutoring Katelyn in German. He’d tried to tutor her but his teaching style and her learning had not been very compatible and it had been leading to some fighting between the two of them. Nicky had been the one to suggest that FF was a pretty good teacher and he wouldn’t take any sort of advantage of the inherent romantic setting of being a tutor (whatever the hell that meant).

FF was a good tutor.

Aaron liked to hang out while Katelyn and FF had their tutoring sessions and FF’s gaze never strayed down from Katelyn’s face when he was talking to her. He gave her German children’s books that he himself had used to better understand the written language and Aaron quite enjoyed the nights he spent over at Katelyns where she’d clumsily make her way through them as they were winding down for bed.

There were other things to like about FF.

He liked how FF could disagree with him without fighting with him. He liked how FF had the confidence to just leave any situation he didn’t like. He liked how FF sang to himself when he was distracted (he had a pretty good voice). He liked how FF could watch horror movies without blinking. He liked how he could sit in easy silence with FF and the two of them could just do their own thing. He liked how bad FF was at video games.

He liked how FF never confused Aaron for Andrew no matter what they were wearing or if they were aiming to confuse people. FF never said how he managed it when even Matt and Nicky got them confused every once in a while but FF never failed to know which twin he was talking to. He also played along when they were going about messing with the other non-FF freshmen by vacating the area instead of alerting anyone to them having switched.

(Aaron is completely unaware of an entirely uncomfortable talk that Nicky has had with FF where he asked FF how he could tell Andrew and Aaron apart. The answer was that initially Aaron always had a very tiny pen mark on his ear somewhere because he had a habit of putting his pen behind his ear. The answer in the long run was that they stood slightly differently and Andrew had a wrinkle that Aaron didn’t. Nicky had asked why FF was looking so closely at his cousins, “Well, I thought that Andrew might swap with Aaron at some point to lure me into a false sense of security and then he’d kill me.” FF answers unaware of why Nicky went still, “I realize now that Andrew isn’t like that.” FF had rushed to assure.

“Yeah…” Nicky had said awkwardly.

“Really, I honestly don’t think Andrew would pretend to be Aaron to kill someone.” FF had said again.)

The thing Aaron probably liked the most though was how happy his cousin was to have someone who was ‘his’ person. Andrew had Kevin and Neil, Aaron had Katelyn, and now Nicky had FF. They were hardly separate from the other Foxes nowadays and they roomed with Matt but there was always a difference for their group between ‘family’ and ‘friend’. FF was someone that Nicky had claimed as family and they had all agreed.

Aaron also enjoyed watching how Andrew and Neil both couldn’t fully comprehend how FF had ended up as Nicky’s when they had both made quite a few efforts. Nicky had always just shrugged and said that they’d understand when they were older before heading off to go see FF at Abby’s house as if the rest of them weren’t following right behind him.

FF was healing nicely and would be moving back into the dorms in the next week or so but he still spent a fair bit of time in Aaron’s room. He had heard Nicky talking to Wymack about possibly having him moved into their room which Aaron wouldn’t mind even if it mean that he’d have to do the ‘Smith Shout’ more frequently.

The ‘Smith Shout’ entails walking into rooms that you thought were empty but theoretically they could also contain FF. If you didn’t mind a minor heart attack later then you didn’t need to complete the ‘Smith Shout’ but if you were perhaps…interested in making out with your beautiful girlfriend?

The ‘Smith Shout’ was a must, they were all trying to get better about the levels of hanky and panky that FF was subjected to just because they failed to realize he was right there.

FF never made a big deal about it but it always felt embarrassing when they heard the click of the door as FF left the room they were making out in.

There was no need for the ‘Smith Shout’ today as FF was helping Katelyn with some basic vocabulary and going over conversations and pronunciation with her. Aaron was sitting nearby going over some micro-biology homework when they heard a door slam open down the hall, pounding foot steps, and then their door slammed open to reveal a pale-faced Kevin

“Kevin, what-“

Kevin shushed Aaron before he could ask what was wrong and came into the room and shut the door with shaking hands. His phone was held in his right hand so tightly that his knuckles were white from the strain.

“Lord Moriyama just called me.” Kevin said shaking badly enough that Aaron wondered if he should guide the Striker over to their couch so that he could sit. “He…he let me know that he’s dropped the percentage I owe him to 65%” Kevin’s gaze slid to FF who was sat at the desks with Katelyn still. “He…he said to give you his…regards?” He says.

Aaron’s own gaze whips to FF.

“Ok.” FF says with an awkward shrug.

Aaron almost laughs at the lack of response but he holds it in unsure of how Kevin would take it.

“Kevin, it’s a good thing right?” Aaron says instead.

Kevin looks at him and nods frantically, “Yes. It’s a good thing.” He agrees. “35% makes things so much…so much easier.” Kevin says his shoulders sagging and it always bothers Aaron when he thinks about the deal that Kevin and Neil live under. He knows that Andrew has only been even listening to offers over a certain amount since he plans on helping Neil.

“I’m glad.” FF offers before turning back to Katelyn, “Ok, have you finished reading that book I gave you last week?” He asks apparently more interested in tutoring than in what Lord Moriyama had to say to Kevin.

“Oh, yes!” Katelyn agrees.

Kevin looks at them and Aaron has known Kevin long enough to recognize when he’s thinking about something. He even knows him well enough to sense when he’s thinking about something irritating.

Kevin leaves the room though so Aaron figures that it will be someone else’s problem.

He is, unfortunately, incorrect.

45 minutes later Kevin bursts into the room again and grabs Aaron, “I need your help with something.” He says, hands cold around Aaron’s wrist, and before Aaron can complain he is being dragged out of his room and into the room his brother shares with Neil and Kevin.

“Kevin, what the hell?” Aaron complains finally managing to pull himself out of Kevin’s grasp.

“I’m going to take control of Smith’s recovery.” Kevin says as if that was a normal thing to say, “Lord Moriyama wished him a speedy recovery and…and I owe him.” Kevin admits.

“You don’t need to take control of Smith’s recovery to thank him. You could just thank him?” Aaron points out the obvious answer but as per usual very few members of the Foxes were amiable to hearing the simple solutions that Aaron offered.

“No this is better. He’ll appreciate it more than just a simple thank you.” Kevin dismissed, “Now, do you think I should start with basic protein or more vitamin based smoothies for his recovery?” Kevin asks and only now does Aaron see the grocery bags of fruits, vegetables, and various other things littering the kitchen.

Why the fuck was everyone on this team so damn weird?

It was 20 minutes of Aaron trying to wrangle Kevin away from the weirdest combinations. The only thing that made him feel better was the knowledge that Josten was going to see all of these veggies and probably hiss like a vampire as he backed away from the fridge.

Still, 20 soul crushing minutes and they had a green beverage sitting in the blender that Josten had bought the room his sophomore year for Kevin. “I’ll be asking you and Katelyn for assistance on this project.” Kevin says.

“No thanks.” Aaron says exhausted from the last 20 minutes.

“Then I’ll just do it alone.” Kevin says and Aaron thinks about the various things that Kevin had wanted to put into the smoothie, thinks of FF tutoring Katelyn without asking for anything, and how FF had lied to protect Aaron’s brother even from federal agents when he had nothing to do with the mess of two years ago.

Fuck.

“Fine, I’ll help.” He grits out because he couldn’t leave FF to the nutritional whims of Kevin Day. He already feels bad enough about the drink that FF is about to be subjected to but he can at least stop Kevin from crushing actual multi-vitamins into the drinks and claiming it would make for good ‘texture’.

They come back to the room and Aaron hears Katelyn and FF talking about a new smoothie place that might be good for FF to try, “…have a peanut butter and banana one that would probably be easy on your stomach.” He hears her say unaware of the monstrosity Aaron has just had a hand in creating.

“No need for that.” Kevin says confidence unshaken and undeserved as puts a glass of green juice down in front of FF. “Drink that.” He says.

Aaron is immediately filled with a desperate desire to both apologize and slap the glass out of Kevin’s hand. Inevitable stained carpet be damned.

“Sure.” FF says as he takes hold of the glass.

It feels as Aaron watches it happen in slow motion. He sees Katelyn’s own revolted face and wishes he could tell her that this really was the best he could do in terms of saving FF. FF, unaware of Aaron’s inner turmoil, takes a sip of the green beverage full of Kale, spinach, sprouts, protein powder (plain), and some crazy Chinese health supplement that Kevin swore by but smelled vaguely alcoholic despite Kevin’s INSISTENCE that it was not.

“I know alcohol, this isn’t alcohol.” Kevin had said and honestly it was hard to argue with that logic.

FF brought it to his lips and drank it.

Aaron felt like he should have gotten a garbage bin ready but instead he watches on in horrified awe as FF drains the entire nightmarish glass.

“Cauliflower?” FF asks as he wipes the remnants of the smoothie off of his upper lip.

Aaron’s head whipped towards Kevin who was smiling as he accepted the glass back from Smith, “I’m surprised you would notice.” He says visibly pleased even as Aaron bristles.

“How the fuck did you put cauliflower in there, I was watching you.” He hisses.

“Katelyn texted you, I put it in then.” Kevin shrugs.

Aaron regrets nothing.

***

Kevin continued to hand FF bizarre healthy combinations of fruits, vegetables, and god knows what. Aaron and Katelyn did their best to keep Kevin from going too wild with his purchases but Kevin on a mission was a difficult thing to stop.

It didn’t help that FF accepted any and everything that Kevin handed to him without a single flinch. As far as Aaron knew FF didn’t even know that Kevin had decided to take control of his recovery and diet for the foreseeable future.

He had been making a run to buy Katelyn some tampons when he found FF in the stomach pain aisle looking between a two-pack or an extra large bottle of Pepto Bismol. “Smiths, if Kevin’s god awful smoothies are hurting your stomach you can just tell him.” Aaron says as he drags FF out of the aisle knowing that Pepto Bismol would not be good. “You can’t take anything with aspirin. Nicky had me read your care instructions to him in plain English I know.” He says.

FF didn’t say anything as he let himself be dragged to the register where the girl there seemed surprise that FF wasn’t buying anything. “Nothing for you?” She asks looking at FF.

FF nodded, “Nothing for me.” He agrees.

“I’m glad! You deserve it!” She says smiling as if she hadn’t just said something that felt wildly rude to say to a customer.

Aaron grabbed FF by the arm, scowled at the cashier, and dragged him out.

“They don’t hurt my stomach. I ended up there more on auto-pilot than anything.” FF says and Aaron remembers the conversation they had been having in the stomach relief section. “I think what I had yesterday was a bit too much.” He admits and Aaron rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else.

Kevin’s nagging about their health had gotten a combination of better and worse since FF had started accepting the smoothies without comment.

Better because now Kevin had someone who he could unleash his full overbearing nature on and who didn’t seem to even care or notice just doing as Kevin ordered. Worse because now Kevin had a taste of what it was like for one of them to follow his orders.

This building irritation had lead to Josten and Andrew grabbing FF before he could be ambushed by Kevin for his usual lunch smoothie and drag him off to an off campus Deli that they both liked. Josten had probably wanted to feel just a little bit superior to the multi-lingual Freshman since it was a Russian Deli where the owner only really got what you ordered if you did it in Russian. It had happened on the day where at morning practice Kevin had implied that FF would be a better protege since he listened while Neil continued to refuse vegetables.

He could just imagine Josten offering to order for FF.

What an asshole.

He remembers coming into the room the day previous and finding them dumping the contents of a styrofoam bowl into the blender. “What is that?” Aaron had asked.

“Borscht.” Josten answered.

“Why are you putting it in a blender?” Aaron asks knowing that Josten didn’t have an ounce of social awareness.

“So Smith can eat it?” Josten said back to him slowly as if Aaron was the idiot between the two of them.

“Does Kevin know?” Aaron had asked

“Kevin can’t bitch, there’s plenty of vegetables in there.” Josten said with absolute certainty.

Kevin can, in fact, bitch.

“Andrew ordered the borscht for me.” FF says as they continue towards the dorms interrupting Aaron from his memory. “It was good, it was just too much. Like what Kevin said yesterday.” He adds.

Aaron can’t believe Josten is so opposed to ordering vegetables that he made Andrew order FF’s food for him.

What an asshole.

***

“A leash. I will find the largest child leash I can get and I will put it on you. Smithy, what the fuck.” Nicky bitches as they made their way out into the crisp December air. “I can’t believe you fell asleep and we almost left you again.” Nicky adds. “My sweet baby boy,

Aaron thinks his cousin is being over dramatic.

FF could walk back from the Fox stadium to the tower on his own just fine. He was a big boy no matter how many times Nicky claimed him to be his ‘sweet little baby boy’.

“I’m not your baby. Don’t call me that.” FF grumbles through his yawn sounding very much like a cranky little baby.

“Maybe stay awake through the game and I’ll consider it.” Nicky teases.

“The game was boring enough to play let alone just having to sit and watch.” Kevin says and it was only because Kevin had his ‘post-game’ smoothie for FF to drink that they realized he wasn’t there before they left the stadium. “We can hardly blame Smiths for falling asleep.” Kevin shrugs elated by the win but disappointed in the competition. “Drink your smoothie Smiths.” He says and FF went back to sipping at the unknown concoction, “The tart cherries and avocado should help you go to sleep when we get back to Abby's.” He says as if that combination was a natural one.

“Tart Cherries and Avocado?” Josten asks in obvious disgust.

“They’re-“

“Hey, Granny Boy!” Came a shout that interrupted Kevin’s explanation.

Usually, anything that interrupted Kevin from some going on another lecture was a good thing but Aaron, bringing up the rear, can see how FF’s posture went from relaxed to painfully alert in a matter of seconds.

“Daniel.” FF returns.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

#Fluent Freshman AU #FF definitely felt quite a bit of panic when Neil and Andrew invited him to the Russian Deli #Neil had in fact been feeling a little upset about Kevin complimenting FF #Still him and Andrew both knew that it wasn't really FF's fault that Kevin was...Kevin #They'd been meaning to bring the freshman there #They just didn't know that FF as a member of the Palmetto Russian Language Honor Society #Has been to this deli multiple times.#He doesn't know if it was by the grace of god or his own forgettable face #But somehow the owner didn't recognize him #GS is still in Palmetto for at least another week #She wishes a lifetime of doting hadn't made FF associate someone making food for him #with care and affection #As she watches him drink an 'oops all root vegetable' smoothie from Kevin #Also welcome to the start of 'Smith Lore'#It's gonna be a time #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #Andreil #Aaron Minyard #My Fics #FF - Pt. 33

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starillusion13 · 9 months ago

Text

The Blue Bird

Pairing: Yeosang x f!reader W.C: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff, Dystopian au, Pirate au

Warnings: hostage, mention of cut and dried blood(just words), jumping from a high window pane, being chased, running through forest at night, patching up wound, getting scratched by iron and metal objects. The beginning is a bit dark but A soft scenario in the end.

Network: @kvanity-main

⛓️

“Why are you helping me?”

That was his third time asking you but, you were still busy finding a way to break the chains. Frustratingly, tugging the hairs behind your ears, you began to search around the destroyed arena. A metal rod hit against your ankle and you whimpered when it scratched deeply. You ignored the stinging pain and returned to pick up the rod. You took it in your hand and felt, it was too heavy but still it seemed more useful than any other object lying around you. Approaching him, he raised a brow at your figure holding a rod in your hand.

“Woah! Wait there. Why with a rod?”

You rolled your eyes, “of course to break the chains and please keep quiet.”

He chuckled but within a blink a glare was sent in your direction, “I know that, you don’t have to say something so obvious. I thought you have a key to the locks. Just tell me why are you here?”

“That’s nothing to worry about.”

You hit the joints of the heavy iron chains with the rod. The chains made clanking sounds with the metal against the floor. You didn't mind anyone hearing you but he was worriedly looking around the dark place to see if anyone had arrived at the location after hearing the loud sound.

“Are you crazy? They can hear us.”

“If you don't keep quiet then they will hear us before we could have run away.”

“And how are you so sure that we can run away from here?”

You gripped the metal rod tightly in your grasp and stared at him but didn’t reply anything.

No matter what you will save him.

The distant source of lights reflecting in his eyes, sparkling brightly. His front long bangs sticking to his forehead and rest disheveled, he was staring at you. Never dodging your gaze on him, he followed your eyes traveling to his black beaded gothic necklaces of various lengths around his neck with a black long V-neck vest with long white back and a black loose bottom pants. Everything was dirty after being locked up in the arena for almost a week. A smirk appeared on his face when he noticed your long stare at his body.

“Do you like the view? I guess you might have liked it more if we have more light. Right?” His tone was clearly indicating his smugness visible on his face. You didn't look at him and proceeded to hit the chains again. There was a crack sound from one of them and he stared between the broken piece and you. He could see a small smile on your face and he nodded to himself but quickly raised his brows when you stared at him.

“I did it.”

Well, he was happy that you could break it but still he didn’t show his true emotions and you quickly returned to break the other chain. You closed your eyes when you felt the burning of your skin in the ankle from the cut earlier. Your wrist was aching with the repeated activity but you were determined to do it, till the end. With a few more hits, finally you were able to break the other chain. There was a metal box beside you, placing yourself on it, the rod fell from your grasp and you took deep breaths.

Between your breaths, still you managed to call out his name, “Yeosang…run…run away.”

He was still trying to pry off the remaining chains which were snaked around his body. When he heard your voice, especially his name from your mouth. He quickly turned towards you. He noticed your exhausted form leaning in the distance. Throwing away the last chain, quick steps took him to you.

He crouched down and stared at you, “why are you telling me to run away. What about you?”

You shook your head before parting your eyelids to find him near you, so close to you. You couldn't believe it when you noticed the worriedness in his eyes. You both were sweating but you were more exhausted than him. The close up view made your vision more clear to notice his red birthmark beside his left eye.

Everything is still exactly the same.

You fought back the urge to caress his face, to pull him into a hug. You inhaled sharply before looking away, “Run before they can find you.”

“But they will catch you here.” he placed his hands on your knees. You bit your lip when you felt him against your skin, the white flared knee length dress was already torn and dirty in several places from earlier the day but at least you made it possible to set him free.

“I can manage on my own.”

“But I can’t manage to lose you…again.”

Your head shot up and your wide eyes stared at him, “again?”

Both of you heard banging of the metal door to your side in the far, your scared eyes glanced at the direction of the sound and quickly looked back at him, “they are here. Go Yeosang. You need to run.”

He retreated his palms from your knees, you curled your fingers at the loss of contact but still you strongly held your gaze on him. So, he would be going away, far away from you. You wiped your tears and looked down at your lap.

A hand suddenly extended in front of you, surprising you when you looked at the owner. No emotion was visible on his face but you could feel him getting impatient with every passing second. He should run away. Wasting a little time would make his chance of running away impossible. You stared at his hand.

“Come on. We are going together. Let’s go fast.”

You shook your head, “No No. This is not possible. I’m not going with you.”

He rolled his eyes before grabbing your wrist and pulled you on your feet. Your protests were only to be ignored by him when he started running to the other direction from the door.

“Yeosang. Leave my hand. I can’t go.”

“Keep quiet. They will catch us before we can run away.”

Your lips curled up at his response. He repeated your words from earlier. Both of you skipped over some old wooden and metal objects lying all around you. The place was dark, only the source of moonlight and tower lights were illuminating all around. The wide arena was lining by a lot of rooms and you didn't know anything about this place so you frantically looked around when you tripped on a broken wooden chair lying down.

“Be careful.” His voice was deep but the caring was felt softly.

You nodded your head and followed behind. Well, you don't have any more options. He was holding onto your wrist so tightly that you were a child who would run away here and there if he let it loose.

Ending up in the very end room, there were shattered pieces of glasses all around the room and it was too dark from the outside. You were hesitant to enter the room but he assured you to be fine and to trust him.

Trust him….

You trust him…more than he can even think of.

There was a window at the opposite wall but it was too high. The fences were all broken and there was nothing that you could climb onto to reach that high. He left your wrist when he started looking around the room. His wrist which still had the heavy metal holes hit against the metal objects and he cursed under his breath. There was an old wooden shelf but it was not enough to climb and it could not be trusted. Still, he pushed it towards the window and placed it just under the window pane.

“Climb up.”

“Me?”

“Just do it fast. They might find us here soon. Come on, do it.”

You again parted your lips to protest when he swept you off the floor by your waist and held you up so that you could easily rest your upper body on top of the shelf.

“Don't sit on that shelf longer. It might break anytime. Just jump on that window space.”

You did as he told you and held the rod beside the window. A sudden breeze hit you on the face, the view of the vast forest before you was a dark and dense area with trees. Are you really running away? With him?

You turned around to see him looking at the door.

“What happened?”

He signaled you to keep quiet. He held a finger to his lips and he moved closer to the door.

“Yeosang…”

“Jump.”

“No. I did so much to save you only for you to tell me to go away without you.”

He reached near the door and glared at you. Why? Peeking outside the room, he could hear some footsteps nearby and he quickly stepped near you. You were looking down at him with teary eyes. You can't leave him all alone.

“We don’t have time. Just jump off.”

“I won't jump without you. If they are catching you then I will be here with you. We will both face this together. Please.” You held your hand towards him, “grab it. Don't leave it again like the last time. We will fight this together.”

“Y/n….”

“Yes. I am here for you, Yeosang.”

With a final glance towards the door, he quickly ran towards the shelf, “it’s you.” he sadly smiled. You nodded and urged him to quickly get on the wood. His first attempt went in vain when his foot slipped and he got a scratch on the knee. He cursed to himself and tried again but the next following attempts were again not a success. But the last attempt was successful when you held his biceps and gripped tightly. But the shelf was losing its balance so he placed his foot beside you on the window space. He was breathing heavily but still you both smiled towards each other.

“You did it, Yeosang.”

“For you.”

You nodded and turned around, “we need to jump.”

You didn't notice but he was still staring at you when he suddenly pulled you in a hug. You missed this hug, you missed his warmth against you, you missed the feeling with him. You missed him.

Retreating himself from you, he intertwined his fingers with yours and held it tightly.

With deep breaths, you both glanced towards each other, “Are you ready?”

“Yes! Always with you.”

You both jumped off the window. You whimpered when you felt the pain in your ankle worsened with the jump and he groaned beside you while rubbing his elbow. “Wow, that was high.”

When he noticed your painful expression, he shifted towards you and held your face in his palms, “is it paining?”

“Yes. I don't think I can run anymore.”

He shook his head when he caressed your cheeks and his eyes wandered around your face when he noticed a few cuts and purple marks, the corner of your lips had dried blood similar to his. Both of your conditions were almost the same. He kissed your lips, catching you off guard.

“I will take you to our destination.”

You were still lost in the thought that he kissed you a few moments before. The feelings of his lips against yours was still lingering on you and you kept looking at him. “But where are we even going?”

“Captain is waiting for us.”

Your eyes went wide with the expectation, “you mean Hongjoong?”

He chuckled and held you in bridal style before standing up, “Yes. Our captain, Joong.”

“Do you think he will let me board his ship?”

Your question made him stop in his tracks. He stared down at you in his arms. You avoided locking eyes with him so you averted your gaze everywhere except on him.

“Look at me, y/n. Please.”

His plea ached your heart when you turned to look at his hard stare on you which quickly softens, “no matter what. He would never blame you. You were never the part of that life which I forced on you one day. You always belonged to this place but, It was me who held you hostage in the ship. So, it was all natural for you to run away.”

“But I didn't want to.” You said quietly.

He again resumed walking. Now, when his ears perked up with some shuffle sounds and shouts from a distance, he was no longer walking. He made a run towards the shore. He knew very well the direction to the secret way to the pirate ship. Wooyoung had taught him all the hidden ways to escape the place but somehow earlier today when he came to save him, he had to run away because one of the guards went inside to keep an eye on the hostage.

You continued when you looked at his frowning face glancing at you often to ask so many things but he couldn't as he was running with you, “I loved being with you. With all of you. You are my only family, Yeosang. I didn’t run away because I wanted to. I did it to save you.” you scoffed, “but still you got yourself caught.”

He remained quiet.

Soon, he reached the shore where the pirate ship was visible and few figures were leaning against the railing of the ship. He put you down on your feet near the plank and was breathing heavily.

“Are you okay?” you asked him softly.

He nodded, “you are heavy.”

You scoffed, “I hit the chains with that heavy iron rod earlier. To save you. I don't know why you let your ass get caught every time.”

“So that you can save me again.”

“Yeosang, it’s not funny.”

He held your shoulders to face him, he planted a kiss on your forehead and smiled, “Thank you. You saved me so many times. I owe you so much. I love you, y/n.”

“I have loved you since the day you called me as your family on the ship. I love you. I really love you, yeosang.”

He again kissed you and this time it was not a quick one. You kissed him back and pulled him towards you more. Tears falling down from both of your eyes. The longing feelings of both of the presence was all visible in the desperation of the kiss.

Someone cleared his throat beside both of you and you quickly pulled apart. Yeosang noticed the person to his side and rolled his eyes.

“Wooyoung.” he groaned when calling his mate’s name.

“Um…you both here? I mean that’s good…but how? Am I seeing things? Are you ghosts?” he placed his hands over his mouth and his eyes were wide.

“Shut up, wooyoung. I saved his ass earlier and now I’m back to my family.”

He squealed and ran towards you before engulfing you in a hug,” y/n…you are finally here.”

“Yes I am.” You said and patted his back.

Yeosang rolled his eyes, “well won’t you welcome me back? I am alive after you left me alone.”

You laughed at their interaction and bicker.

Wooyoung lead the way to climb up the ship and Yeosang pulled you closer to him, “we are back to our home.”

“Yes, we are. Together.”

When you both reached the deck of the ship, Hongjoong and Seonghwa turned towards both of you, “Yeosang?...and y/n.”

The said man proudly walked with you towards him and smiled, “my birdy saved me again.” He placed his hand around your shoulder.

“Really?” Captain asked in surprise but he was thankful.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed back here or not but I’m always by the side of Ateez. Also, I have collected a lot of information about the guardians.”

Seonghwa nodded and Hongjoong chuckled, “if you leave, Yeosang will follow you back. And, we are not mad with you, y/n. you are always welcome back to the ship.”

You looked towards Yeosang who was already staring at you, “Yeosang…”

“Let’s go inside…you are hurt. Let’s talk there while I patch you up.”

You nodded and let him guide you to the medic room.

Entering the familiar room after so many months brought back the memories of you both spending time together in there and you mentally thanked to stumble into the ship that day.

“Did you miss this place?” He was searching for all the things he needed and he cursed when he noticed Yunho had misplaced few things again.

You sat on the bed and nodded, “I missed this place……and you. This room is nothing without you. We have so many memories together here.”

“I never felt the same here after you left. I was again all alone with my own life and thoughts.”

He kneeled down in front of you to patch your leg and he noticed the amount of blood it was oozing out. He did all the step by step process to patch you and when it was done he was about to stand but you held him in place before crouching down in front of him and held his elbow, “ let me do it for you.”

“It’s okay, y/n. Don’t worry.”

“Yeosang, we promised that we will face everything together and that means we will take care of each other too. Now come on let me help you.”

There was a fondness in his eyes and you followed the steps he had once taught you.

When you both were done, you wrapped your arms around him and placed your head against his chest, “what happened, y/n?”

“I can’t believe you are here with me.” He smiled hearing your soft murmur against his bare chest. Your breath hitting against his warm skin and your ear picking up his heartbeat. You closed your eyes to feel the moment. Only with him.

He patted your back before stroking your head, “and this time neither of us is going anywhere. You know why I’m always back home and on my right track with you?”

“Because you can’t save yourself?” You smiled in the end of your question but quickly looked up. He cupped your face, “maybe I can’t but that’s not the point.”

“Then?”

“It’s because you are my little blue bird.”

The bird who always helps him to navigate back to his home. Like a ray of light of hope, you always showed him the hope to return to the family every time and brought the joy. And this time, his bird saved him again but also, he saved his bird from wandering around.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

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