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velvetvisionsaurora · 4 months ago

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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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Masterslist

Chapter 1

The Crimson Serpent

The days turned to weeks as The Crimson Serpent continued its long voyage toward Halazia. The journey would take three months, sailing through treacherous waters and stopping at various ports for supplies. For five young boys and one little girl, these months would forge bonds stronger than blood.

Hongjoong: The Protector

Ten days after y/n's arrival, Hongjoong began sneaking her onto the deck at night. As navigator's apprentice, he had memorized the watch schedules and found a precious half-hour when the night watch changed, leaving the starboard side momentarily unattended.

"Look up," he whispered on their first midnight excursion, helping her climb the ladder with one hand while she clutched Mr. Hugs with the other.

Y/n's gasp when she emerged was worth the risk of punishment. Above them, undimmed by city lights or smoke, the stars blazed in magnificent profusion against the velvet sky.

"So many," she breathed, eyes wide.

Hongjoong smiled, settling beside her in their hidden corner behind a stack of secured barrels. "The navigator says they tell stories."

"What kind of stories?" She asks.

"About heroes and monsters and great journeys." He pointed upward, tracing patterns he'd learned. "See those stars that look like a pot? That's the Big Dipper. And those three in a row are Orion's Belt."

Night after night, weather permitting, they continued these secret stargazing lessons. Hongjoong taught her what he was learning from the navigator: how to find north, how to recognize favorable winds from cloud patterns, how the color of the sunset foretold tomorrow's weather.

"Pay attention," he told her seriously one night, pointing to a particular star formation. "If you're ever lost, that one will always help you find your way.

"But I'm not lost," y/n replied, her small hand finding his in the darkness. "I'm with you."

The simple trust in her voice made something protective unfurl in Hongjoong's chest. He'd been a captive for six months before y/n arrived, learning to look out only for himself. Now, watching her count stars with Mr. Hugs propped against her knees, he understood what it meant to be responsible for someone else.

One night during their third week, when she'd fallen asleep against his shoulder, he whispered a word he'd never used before: "Treasure."

Startled by his own utterance, he glanced down to make sure she hadn't heard. The nickname had formed without conscious thought—something precious to be guarded, something valuable beyond price. It fit her somehow, this small person who had awakened his protective instincts.

Over the following weeks, "Treasure" became his private name for her, used only in the quietest moments—when tucking a blanket around her sleeping form, when offering her the larger portion of whatever food he managed to secure, when creating a distraction so she could avoid the bosun's notice. Unlike her enthusiastic "Joongie!" that sometimes drew unwanted attention, his "Treasure" remained a whispered secret, a reminder of what he had vowed to protect.

When she fell asleep during one of their secret outings, head heavy against his shoulder, Hongjoong stayed perfectly still despite cramping legs. He watched shooting stars trace silver paths across the sky and made a silent promise to each one: he would find a way to keep his treasure safe.

Seonghwa: The Guardian

Seonghwa approached y/n's protection with the methodical precision that characterized everything he did. Within two weeks of her arrival, he had created a detailed mental map of the ship's daily routines, identifying safe zones and danger areas for each hour of the day.

"The captain inspects the cargo hold on Wednesdays," he explained to y/n one morning, helping her tuck Mr. Hugs inside a specially created hiding place sewn into her ragged dress. "When the bell rings twice, go to the empty barrels behind the meal stores. Stay there until Wooyoung comes for you."

She nodded seriously, absorbing his instructions with wide eyes. "What if he finds me anyway?"

"He won't," Seonghwa said, with a certainty he didn't entirely feel. "I've arranged things."

What he didn't tell her was how he earned this information—the extra cleaning duties he volunteered for in the officers' quarters, the careful eavesdropping, the system of small moved objects he used to track who had entered which rooms.

One month into their journey, disaster nearly struck when the first mate discovered y/n playing quietly in what should have been an empty storage room.

"What have we here?" the man growled, reaching for her with tobacco-stained fingers.

"Sir," Seonghwa appeared as if from nowhere, a carefully crafted look of concern on his young face. "The captain's looking for you. Said it's urgent—something about the course charts."

As the first mate hesitated, Seonghwa added casually, "I'm just retrieving cleaning supplies. Cook sent me to scrub the galley floors."

When the man hurried away, Seonghwa knelt before a trembling y/n. "That wasn't your fault," he said quietly, straightening Mr. Hugs' crooked ear. "I miscalculated the timing."

Later that night, while the others slept, he stayed awake documenting mental revisions to his safety protocols. The near-miss had revealed dangerous flaws in his system.

"Hwa?" y/n's sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you making plans?"

He glanced down to find her watching him, eyes heavy with interrupted sleep. "Yes."

"Is it hard? Making all the plans?"

The question surprised him. No one had ever asked if his constant vigilance was difficult.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But necessary things often are."

She nodded sagely, as if he'd confirmed something important. Then, to his further surprise, she patted the space beside her. "You should sleep too. Mr. Hugs says you think too much."

A faint smile touched Seonghwa's lips. "Does he?"

"Mm-hmm. He says you're very good at taking care." Her small hand patted his larger one with surprising gentleness. "But you need sleep to make good plans."

Something in Seonghwa's perpetually tense shoulders eased slightly. He had been responsible for so much, for so long, that the simple acknowledgment of his efforts felt unexpectedly powerful.

The next morning, he added a new element to his safety protocols: designated rest periods for himself, marked by y/n's insistence on telling Mr. Hugs about her day while Seonghwa listened, allowing his vigilant mind rare moments of peace.

That night, as she drifted back to sleep beside him, he found himself whispering "Sleep well, little dove" before catching himself in surprise. The endearment had emerged unbidden—something about her reminded him of the white doves that had nested in the eaves of his childhood home before captivity. Gentle creatures, requiring protection yet possessing their own quiet dignity.

The nickname settled into his private thoughts, a secret even from the other boys. "Dove" became his silent term for her during the weeks that followed—never spoken aloud, only thought in moments when her quiet resilience struck him anew: when she followed his complex safety instructions without complaint, when she comforted Mingi after a particularly brutal punishment from the gunner, when she maintained perfect stillness during ship inspections despite her age.

Wooyoung: The Lighthearted

Of all the boys, Wooyoung adapted most quickly to y/n's presence, treating her arrival as a wonderful game rather than another burden in their difficult lives. His position as kitchen helper made him invaluable for her physical sustenance, but his natural cheer provided nourishment of another kind.

"Today," he announced about six weeks into their journey, arriving at their nighttime gathering with suspicious bulges in his pockets, "is a very special day."

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "What day?"

"It's been exactly forty-three days since y/n joined our crew," Wooyoung declared grandly, "which means it's time for a celebration!"

With theatrical flourish, he produced his contraband: a slightly stale sweetbread filched from the officers' dinner, a small jar of honey, and five preserved cherries—true treasures in their world of hardship.

Y/n's eyes widened. "Real honey?"

"The cook was saving it," Wooyoung confided with a conspiratorial wink. "But I decided you should have it instead."

He divided the bounty with exaggerated ceremony, making sure y/n received the largest portion. When she hesitated, looking at their smaller shares with concern, Wooyoung nudged her gently.

"It's your celebration day," he insisted. "Special people get special treats."

The joy of that impromptu feast—sweetbread dipped in honey, the explosion of cherry flavor so intense after weeks of bland provisions—became a touchstone memory. Wooyoung declared a "celebration day" every couple of weeks afterward, always managing to procure some small treat despite increasingly vigilant kitchen supervision.

More importantly, he taught y/n to laugh silently—a critical skill on a ship where attention meant danger. He would contort his face into impossible expressions, cross his eyes, or mime elaborate pantomimes until she was shaking with suppressed giggles, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other clutching Mr. Hugs to her chest.

"Like this," he demonstrated one night, after a particularly close call when her laughter had nearly attracted unwanted attention. He showed her how to laugh with her whole body but no sound—shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling, mouth open in silent mirth.

They practiced until she mastered it, turning the serious lesson into yet another game. Soon, Wooyoung only needed to wiggle his eyebrows a certain way to send her into silent convulsions of laughter that spread to the other boys, creating moments of shared joy that sustained them through darker hours.

It was during one of these silent laughter sessions, when her eyes sparkled with delight despite their circumstances, that the nickname came to him. "That's it, little bird," he whispered, the endearment flowing naturally. "Just like that."

The others glanced at him curiously, but something about the name felt right. Like the small sparrows that sometimes landed on the ship's rigging, she was tiny and vulnerable yet possessed an irrepressible spirit. The way she would cock her head when curious, the quick movements of her hands when excited, even her occasional soft humming when she thought no one was listening—all reminded him of the birds his grandmother had once kept.

"Little bird" became his constant term for her, used openly unlike Hongjoong's whispered "Treasure" or Seonghwa's silent "Dove." Wooyoung's natural demonstrativeness made the affectionate nickname seem merely part of his theatrical personality rather than the deep attachment it actually represented.

Two months into their journey, when a particularly violent storm left everyone drenched and miserable, it was Wooyoung who orchestrated a "rain dance" in the relative privacy of their corner, mimicking the storm's fury with exaggerated movements until even Mingi's solemn face cracked into a reluctant smile.

Y/n, watching with Mr. Hugs clutched to her chest, laughed her silent laugh until tears mingled with the rainwater on her cheeks—tears of joy rather than fear. In that moment, Wooyoung realized that his silly games weren't just distractions; they were a form of resistance against the cruelty of their circumstances, small assertions that they were still children despite everything that had been taken from them.

"Woo," Y/n said that night, as they all huddled together for warmth, "Mr. Hugs says you make the sad go away."

Wooyoung's characteristic grin softened into something more genuine. "That's my job, little one," he whispered. "Somebody has to remember how to play."

Yunho: The Gentle Giant

At eight years old, Yunho was already taller than most boys his age, with a strength that had the ship's bosun eyeing him for heavier duties. But y/n never showed a flicker of fear toward him, despite his size making him potentially intimidating.

Instead, by the third week of their journey, she had established a routine of climbing onto his back whenever they were alone in the hold, her small arms wrapped around his neck and Mr. Hugs squished between them.

"Yuyu, go faster!" she would whisper excitedly as he carried her in circuits around their sleeping area, pretending to be a galloping horse or, on more adventurous days, a sea monster breaching the waves.

Despite the physical demands of his deck duties, Yunho never refused these games, understanding instinctively how important movement was for a child confined to hiding most of the day. He used his height to create moments of joy, lifting her to peek through the higher portholes or helping her touch the ceiling beams of the hold.

One clear night about a month into their journey, when Hongjoong was confined to the navigator's cabin with extra duties, Yunho took over the stargazing ritual. Though less knowledgeable about constellations, he made up for it with imaginative stories about star people living in the sky.

"That bright one there," he pointed to a particularly luminous star, "is the queen of all stars. She watches over the smaller ones."

Y/n followed his finger with rapt attention. "What's her name?"

"What do you think it should be?" he asked, enjoying her creativity.

She thought for a moment, then declared confidently: "Star!"

Yunho laughed softly. "That's just what she is. Don't you want to give her a special name?"

"No," y/n insisted. "She's just Star. Like you're Yuyu." As if this settled everything, she nestled closer against his side, clutching Mr. Hugs to her chest.

The simple logic charmed him, and over the following days, he found himself thinking of y/n as his little Star—bright and constant despite the darkness surrounding them. Unlike Wooyoung's "little bird" that seemed to flow naturally into conversation, Yunho kept "Star" mostly to himself, using it only occasionally when they were alone during their games or stargazing sessions.

"Ready for another story, Star?" he'd whisper, or "Hold tight, Star," when carrying her on his back. The nickname seemed to delight her, bringing an extra sparkle to her eyes whenever he used it.

"What's that island called?" she asked during one of their porthole viewing sessions, about two months into the journey.

"I don't know its real name," Yunho admitted, holding her steady as she pressed her face against the thick glass. "But we can give it one."

"Mr. Hugs Island!" she declared immediately.

Yunho smiled. "Perfect. And that one over there with the pointy top could be Joongie Island, because it looks like his hair when he wakes up."

She giggled at this, then continued the game: a round island became Woo Island, a perfectly symmetrical one was Hwa Island, and a distant one barely visible on the horizon was dubbed Puppy Island "because it's quiet like Mingi."

The naming game became another ritual, repeated at each landfall. Yunho would find moments to lift her to a porthole, and together they would create a geography of affection, mapping their small world with names of people they cared about.

When y/n fell ill during the journey's third month, feverish from an infection that spread among the crew, it was Yunho who cared for her most tenderly. His large hands, already calloused from rope work, were surprisingly gentle as he placed cool cloths on her forehead and cradled her when the ship's pitching threatened to roll her from the makeshift sick bed.

"Story," she mumbled through cracked lips on the second night of her fever. "Please, Yuyu."

Though not naturally verbose, Yunho rose to the occasion. He constructed elaborate tales about the adventures of five brave explorers and their guide, a magical teddy bear who always led them to safety. Night after night, as her fever slowly receded, he continued these stories, discovering a storyteller's voice he hadn't known he possessed.

"Once upon a time," he began one night when her fever finally broke, "there was a little star who fell from the sky."

"Like me?" she whispered, her voice weak but aware.

"Just like you," he confirmed, smoothing her tangled hair. "The brightest, bravest little star."

When she finally recovered, weak but alert, her first request was for another story.

"Mr. Hugs missed out on your stories," she explained, though the teddy bear hadn't left her side throughout her illness.

Yunho, who had worked double shifts to compensate for his nighttime vigils, simply smiled and settled beside her. "Then Mr. Hugs should hear how the explorers found the Island of Forever Summer," he began, his normally quiet voice taking on the cadence of a born storyteller, "where the little star showed them the way home."

Later, when she fell asleep mid-tale, Seonghwa approached with a rare look of open gratitude.

"You're good with her," he observed. "Better than the rest of us sometimes."

Yunho shook his head. "Not better. Just different." He looked down at y/n's sleeping form, her arms wrapped around Mr. Hugs. "She makes it easy to be gentle. My little Star," he added in a whisper so soft even Seonghwa didn't catch it.

Mingi: The Silent Guardian

While the other boys established their relationships with y/n through actions and words, Mingi's connection developed in quieter ways. The traumatized boy spoke rarely, but his silent presence became a constant in y/n's life aboard The Crimson Serpent.

At first, their interaction consisted mainly of y/n chattering to him while he listened, his eyes following her movements as she played with Mr. Hugs or practiced the silent laugh Wooyoung had taught her. He would whittle small objects—animals, boats, tiny people—and leave them near her sleeping spot, never drawing attention to these gifts.

About a month into their journey, she took to sitting beside him during his carving sessions, watching intently as he transformed scraps of wood into miniature treasures with his small stolen knife. Unlike the others, who filled silence with words or activities, Mingi allowed quiet to exist without discomfort, creating a peaceful space rare in their chaotic environment.

"Why don't you talk much, Puppy?" she asked one afternoon, using the nickname that had stuck despite Wooyoung's initial amusement.

Mingi's hands stilled briefly, his eyes remaining on the half-formed dolphin taking shape beneath his blade. After a long pause, he simply shrugged, then continued carving.

Instead of pressing, y/n adjusted her position, leaning slightly against his side as she held Mr. Hugs up to "watch" the carving progress. This small physical contact—something Mingi usually avoided—went unremarked but not unnoticed. His shoulders, perpetually tight with tension, relaxed incrementally.

The next day, when she settled beside him for what had become their silent routine, he surprised her by speaking: "Little shadow."

Y/n looked up, uncertain if she'd heard correctly. "What?"

"You," he explained with characteristic brevity, gesturing to how she had positioned herself in the exact shadow his body cast in the lantern light. "Little shadow."

The observation, simple yet oddly poetic from the habitually silent boy, delighted her. From that day forward, whenever she joined him for their quiet time, she would deliberately place herself in his shadow, a game that evolved without discussion or explanation.

"Little shadow here," she would sometimes announce softly, settling into position. Mingi rarely responded verbally, but a subtle softening around his eyes acknowledged the ritual.

About a month into their journey, during a particularly rough storm, the ship's violent pitching sent several poorly secured barrels rolling across the hold. One would have crushed Y/n if Mingi hadn't lunged forward, sheltering her with his body as the heavy container splintered against his back.

Later, as Seonghwa tended his bruises, Y/n sat nearby, unusually subdued. When the others were occupied with securing their few possessions against the continuing storm, she approached Mingi with solemn determination.

"Mr. Hugs wants to help you feel better," she announced, placing the teddy bear gently against his injured back.

Mingi froze at this unprecedented loan of her most treasured possession. His eyes widened, questioning.

"Just for tonight," y/n clarified. "He's very good at fixing hurts."

That night established a new pattern. Though y/n never again relinquished Mr. Hugs for a full night, she began regularly pressing him against Mingi's arm or shoulder as a form of communication. "Mr. Hugs wants to know if you're okay," she would say, or "Mr. Hugs thinks your carving looks like a dolphin."

Through this proxy, Mingi began responding more frequently, offering rare words that he seemed unable to direct to others. "Better now," he might murmur to the teddy bear, or "It's a whale, not dolphin."

By the journey's second month, Y/n had appointed Mingi as Mr. Hugs' official guardian whenever she needed to leave their sanctuary for necessary reasons. The solemnity with which he accepted this duty—sitting perfectly still, the teddy bear balanced carefully on his crossed legs—spoke volumes about the responsibility he felt.

"Keep little shadow's friend safe," he would whisper to himself, a personal mantra that acknowledged both his responsibility and his growing attachment to the child who had somehow found her way into his carefully guarded heart.

During the third month, as they entered waters known for pirate attacks, Mingi's protective instincts intensified. His position assisting the gunner gave him insights into potential dangers that even Seonghwa couldn't access. The first time another ship was spotted on the horizon, Mingi appeared in the hold hours before his usual return, his face tight with concern.

Without explanation, he moved y/n and Mr. Hugs to a different hiding spot, one he'd apparently prepared in advance—a small space behind a false panel in the bulkhead, with a tiny air hole disguised as damage.

"Little shadow must stay hidden," he instructed with rare firmness. "No sound."

When actual danger materialized hours later—not pirates but a naval inspection that sent the crew scrambling to hide evidence of illegal cargo—y/n remained safely concealed, understanding from Mingi's serious expression that absolute silence was required.

After that incident, his silent guardianship gained a new dimension. He began creating hidden caches throughout areas of the ship accessible to them—small survival kits containing water, hardtack, and tiny carved directions that only y/n would recognize.

"For little shadow," he explained one night, showing her a particularly clever hiding spot beneath a loose floorboard. The phrase, though minimalist, carried the weight of his concern, the depth of his commitment to her safety.

One night, when she was supposed to be sleeping, she caught him carefully attaching a small wooden disk to Mr. Hugs' worn paw.

"What's that?" she whispered, startling him.

Mingi hesitated, then turned the teddy bear to show her. The disk, no larger than a small coin, had a tiny star carved into it—the same star pattern Hongjoong had taught her to navigate by.

"To find way home," Mingi said simply, more words at once than he usually spoke. "If lost."

y/n touched the carving with gentle fingers. "So Mr. Hugs can always bring me back to you?"

Mingi nodded, a faint but unmistakable smile touching his lips. "Always, little shadow."

During their final days before reaching Halazia, when separation loomed as an increasing certainty, Mingi worked silently through the nights, carving a small collection of tiny wooden animals. On their last evening together, he pressed them into y/n's hand—a miniature menagerie small enough to hide in the hem of her dress.

"To remember," he said, his voice rough with emotion he didn't know how to express. "Little shadow never alone."

It was the longest sentence she had ever heard from him, and y/n understood the magnitude of both the gift and the words. She leaned against him in their familiar position, perfectly aligned with his shadow in the lantern light, a physical embodiment of the name that had become his special term for her.

"I'll always be your little shadow, Puppy," she whispered. "Even when you can't see me."

As The Crimson Serpent entered the final week of its three-month voyage to Halazia, the children's bond had grown into something deeper than friendship. Through shared hardship, secret games, and unspoken understanding, they had created a family forged by circumstance and choice.

The knowledge that Halazia meant probable separation loomed over them with increasing weight. During their nighttime gatherings, conversation became more subdued, punctuated by longer silences and tighter embraces.

On the final night, as distant lights on the horizon signaled their impending arrival, Hongjoong gathered them in their usual corner.

"Halazia tomorrow," he said quietly, voicing what they all knew.

Y/n, seated in their protective circle with Mr. Hugs clutched to her chest, looked from face to face. "What happens to me there?"

The question hung heavy in the damp air. None of the boys wanted to explain the slave markets that awaited her, the auction block where children were sold to the highest bidder.

"We don't know exactly," Seonghwa said finally, his voice gentle but honest. "But we're working on a plan."

"Will we stay together?" Her small voice wavered.

Wooyoung forced a bright smile. "Of course we will, little bird! Adventures are always better with friends."

But his eyes betrayed the lie, and y/n was perceptive beyond her years. She looked down at Mr. Hugs, adjusting his threadbare bow tie with trembling fingers.

"If we don't," she said slowly, "I want you to promise something."

"Anything," Hongjoong responded immediately, the word "treasure" forming silently on his lips though he didn't speak it aloud.

She looked up, her eyes solemn in the lantern light. "Promise you won't forget me. Even if I'm far away."

The simplicity of the request caught them all off guard. They had been planning escapes and interventions, not considering the possibility of long-term separation.

"We promise," Yunho said firmly, reaching out to take her small hand in his larger one, thinking of his bright little Star potentially lost in darkness.

One by one, the others added their promises: Seonghwa with quiet certainty, his thoughts full of the little Dove he had protected; Wooyoung with theatrical vehemence, his little bird's freedom suddenly more important than his own; Mingi with a single, powerful nod, his little Shadow potentially forced into painful light.

Hongjoong, last to speak, looked directly into her eyes. "I promise we'll find you again," he said, with a conviction that transcended his eight years. "No matter how long it takes, Treasure," he added in a whisper meant only for her ears.

They spent that final night huddled closer than usual, the six of them forming a protective circle with y/n and Mr. Hugs at the center. Though none of them spoke of it, each child silently committed every detail to memory: the smell of the sea and unwashed clothes, the gentle rocking of the ship, the sound of five different breathing patterns harmonizing in sleep.

Tomorrow would bring Halazia, with all its unknown dangers. But tonight, in the hold of The Crimson Serpent, they were together—five protectors and their charge, navigating the darkness by the light of a single, guttering lantern.

#Ateez #ateez pirate au #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #mingi x reader #yunho x reader #wooyoung x reader #song mingi #ateez seonghwa #jeong yunho #hongjoong #wooyoung #ateez smut

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