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Chee she/her 95z minors DNII make fanfiction and occasional bad edits Masterlist in pinned

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 6 hours

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Mood

#ha #yeahh #vague vibes only

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 6 hours

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thirsty bang chan thoughts? I can do that. I'm thinking probably werewolf chan...yknow how canines...dogs...lick people, yeah? betcha werewolf chan has his tongue out glued to your skin while he's bouncing you on his dick. also BANG CHANS BOOBIES ARE SO SEXY ID BE CREAMING ON THOSE sorry

“mine-ah... just mine.”

“yes– fuck! jus--just yours. just yours, baby.” you breathe, shuddering in his hold, nails digging into his shoulders as he restlessly bounces you on his leaking, slippery cock. your brows furrow and you chew on your bottom lip when the ridges of his dick drag over your gummy spot, when his tip brushes over your cervix. your abused cunt clenches around him sporadically at that, which only makes him growl in your ear and suddenly pick up the pace, tightly squeezing your hips and sucking on your earlobe in the meantime.

a high-pitched moan leaves your lips, mouth going slack at the feeling of his tongue brushing over such a sensitive spot “b-aby, ah-- f-feel so good--” you gasp, tears dampening your cheeks and and nails scratching his back. he moans and groans against your skin, his hold on your hips now borderline hurting you, but you're so so so fucking close to your release you don't even care.

your head tips back, showing off your neck to your boyfriend, who doesn't waste any time before his tongue is on it, lapping, licking, wetting it like a happy dog—which he technically is.

soon, your whole neck is purple with new bruises, damp from his tongue, marked by his sharp canines trailing over your skin, but he doesn't stop—not even when you come all over his cock and he fills you up, not even when you start marking his neck. he shudders with every brush of your tongue over his sensitive skin while he sloppily bounces you on him, his wet muscle now on the sweaty skin of your tits, moaning and groaning with every sweep.

“angel, fuck-- your taste and smell and everything and and-- fucking perfect..” his voice shakes, a bit muffled since he refuses to stop worshipping your body like you deserve as he speaks.

you whine out his name, feeling both flustered and another high quickly approaching, and as he murmurs 'i love yous' and 'fuck can't wait to finally marry yous and make you round with my pups', his big, warm hands gripping your hips as if his life depended on it, his puffy lips pressing kisses and sucking love bites wherever he can reach, all you can think of is how good he's making you feel, and how lucky you are to have him in your life.

you're the fucking luckiest.

taglist: @maximumkillshot @caitlyn98s @woogigi @starsandrqindrops

#uhm ivy HELLOO?!?!??!#i dont even stan skz or read them but uhh yes???#wolfie bang chan is a yes

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 6 hours

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 6 hours

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My absolute favorite comments to get as a fic writer are the ones that are like "hey this porn you wrote is hot."

Because it is so hard to write good sex scenes. You're constantly wondering "is this actually hot or will it sound insane/cringey?" You're trying to hit emotional beats while not taking away from the sexiness. You're trying to make sure actions are clear and nothing gets all muddled and confusing for the reader. It requires you to really think about how the characters are going to react to everything that happens, so on top of making sure it's actually hot, you have to worry about if it's in-character for everyone involved. It's so much easier to write sex scenes that are bad on purpose than sex scenes that are actually good and meant to be hot.

So, yeah, I assure you, because the most common thing I hear people saying when they leave a comment about the sex scenes I write is "I hope it's not weird to comment on this scene," it's not weird at all and I appreciate it so much! I am literally never going to be mad at someone leaving a row of 🔥 emojis in their comment, I promise. If you're reading a fic and you think the sex scenes are well done, let the author know! That's likely one of the parts they're a bit nervous about working well so it'll mean so much to know you thought it was good.

#honestly yeah #sex stuff is hard to write ngl #im always half convinced people won't like the scenes i write

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 7 hours

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Thinking about; Roommate C.SC

Okay so I was cutting my nails off(because they keep breaking not the reason reader does in this lol) and I had this thought and had to write it down

✌Warnings; fingering(female receiving). mention of sex toys 👌Wordcount; 853 (i think, i've forgotten already <3)

NSFW so minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-Other Writing - More Coups thoughts; 1 & 2 -

Roommate Cheol who pays enough attention to you to know that there's a pattern to your behaviour around relationships, even if he doesn't have any explanation

He noticed it the first time he saw the end of one of your relationships

You came home, tears drying on your cheeks and went straight to the bathroom

When you come out freshly showered and sit next to him on the couch and pout for one of his cuddles, he notices that you've removed all of your nail polish and cut your nails very short He doesn't point it out or question it that first time, or any of the times after but he notices it all the same

The pattern repeats, you come home after a breakup(sometimes with tears, sometimes with annoyance, sometimes pretty unbothered) and go straight to the bathroom to shower before joining him wherever he is for one of his big comforting bear hugs with nails short and free of nail polish regardless of if you'd spent all morning applying it

And he doesn't say a thing about it despite being so curious about the habit

Until one day he decides he can't let you cut them this time, not when he had spent hours the day before helping you pick out the little stickers and applying them with his honestly rather unsteady thick fingers But you had just watched him with a happy smile, always beyond grateful that your roommate said yes to whatever you asked more than he said no

He even had matching stickers on his deep blue nails because you had given him puppy eyes

So when you come home this time looking fed up more than actually upset at your latest short-term relationship ending, he jumps up and blocks your path to the bathroom He demands you explain to him why you always cut your nails off after relationships when you take so much care to make them pretty in your eyes

You try to avoid the question but he's frankly, a stubborn ass at times and twice as strong as you thanks to his daily gym trips So you relent with a frustrated groan and tell him

"I can't exactly fuck myself with nails like that and as I'm single again, I don't have much option, Seungcheol."

Which, okay logically, that makes sense and perhaps he could've figured that out himself

But he hadn't and hearing the admittance makes his brain short-circuit

You take the chance to skirt around him but he snaps back and grabs you before you can go into the bathroom with a firm "no"

You look at him, silently demanding what the fuck he means by that

"You're not cutting them. Get a dildo or something"

"I have a dildo or something" he tries very hard not to imagine what scenarios that brings "but sometimes I just want something quick without having to get it out"

"Oh," he blinks at you for a minute then looks down at your hand hanging limp where he's still holding your forearm "but we spent ages doing those, I'm not going to let you cut them off." You open your mouth to basically repeat your previous words but he cuts you off. "So I guess you'll have to accept mine."

Suddenly he has you against the wall, one hand bracing him at the side of your head and the other hooked into the waistband of your jeans up to the second knuckles of three fingers

It takes a little while, a lot of you dumbly asking him to repeat himself and him patiently explaining that yes he is very much enthusiastically offering to finger you as much as you want, whenever you want

And well, you've thought about it a lot in the past, what it'd be like to fall into bed with your ridiculously hot roommate

So you accept

He doesn't take you to bed, just pulls you apart on his fingers multiple times right there against the wall with a dark, heavy gaze locked onto you and a smug smirk on his lips every time you moan his name

You're too boneless afterwards to do anything but let him tuck you up in your bed for a much-needed nap

But as soon as you're awake and showered, you go right to his room where he's in his bed halfway asleep

He watches you crawl up under his duvet but doesn't say anything until your hand finds his waistband

And then he's only swearing softly before pulling you in to press his lips to yours for the first time with nothing but hunger and desperation

After that, you stop coming home from broken relationships to cut your nails

It's kind of impossible to come home from any kind of relationship when it already exists there

And let me tell you one thing about being in a relationship with Choi Seungcheol, that man will make sure your nails never need to be cut short but always keeps his own trimmed and filed neat and smooth for you <3

A/N - I really need to stop trying to say Cheol isn't my bias when he's always the one who appears in my thoughts/ideas the most (sorrySoonyoung</3)

I need a Seungcheol, preferably the real one tbh

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 19 hours

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Self care is writing fan fiction that you are the sole target audience for.

#yes #all the time

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 1 day

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Session Two; Secret's Out - L.JH

🎙Who; Lee Jihoon (Seventeen) x reader 🎙What; smut, fwb, producer/idol Jihoon 🎙Wordcount; 3.8k 🎙Warnings; profanity, high heel kink, dick stepping(light), marks, slight pain kink, manhandling, fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk

Summary; "Everyone knows that Jihoon does not like high heels. Everyone assumes it's because he's insecure about his height. Everyone happens to be very fucking wrong."

Minors do NOT interact, which means liking/reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist- 🎙 In The Studio Masterlist 🎙

Part 2/? of In The Studio; a series of Jihoon fucking in his studio.

Jihoon doesn't like it when you wear high heels. You've always assumed it's because of the added height and he's never really given you or anyone reason to think otherwise. When the guys teased him about it in the past, Jihoon never corrected them and just made vague sounds in response, if he even responded because he often ignored the jabs. So it makes logical sense that his aversion to you in high heels is because he's sensitive about his height and heels always make you much taller than him. And being a good friend, you take that at face value and refrain from wearing any heels around him, not wanting to make your precious friend feel insecure in any way.

The plan on this day isn't to make him insecure either, you'd genuinely never want that. But you know that even though you two have plans, he'll still be working for quite some time once you arrive at his studio because he always fucking does that. Which means he'll be busy and you'll both be seated in different places so taking the chance to break in the heels you just bought won't cause any problems, right?

"What are you doing?" Jihoon asks as soon as you sit on the couch and open the shoe box, revealing the brand new sleek black stilettos inside. He isn't even back in his chair from letting you into the studio. "You know I don't like you wearing heels."

"I've got to break them in and it's not like I've got anything else to do while you spend the next hour telling me you'll be done in a minute." You point out. "And we're both going to be sat down the whole time, you won't even notice the height."

"The height doesn't bother me." He informs, making you look up at him questioningly.

"It doesn't?"

Jihoon scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. "No, I've told you assholes, I'm not insecure about my height."

"Then why are you against heels?" You raise an eyebrow in intrigue, trying to figure it out yourself. But Jihoon gives you no assistance in any way and simply sits down and turns back to his desk with clearly zero intention of answering. You stare at the back of his head for a second then give in trying to magically understand and go back to taking your brand-new shoes out and slipping them onto your feet. Of course, you already tried them on in the store so you know you like them quite a lot; they're simple but elegant with a little dainty silver chain around your ankle. "Will you take a picture for me?" You ask as you take your phone from your pocket and extend your legs out, already pretty sure he will refuse.

As expected, Jihoon's response is simple. "No."

"Fine," You try to get a good picture of your new shoes to send to your friend but the angles are quite frankly put, shit. So you get up and move aside to prop your phone up on the floor on selfie mode and set a timer. You quickly shuffle back just enough to get a decent view of the lower half of your legs.

You don't notice because you're busy trying to take a photo that really shows off the shoes, but Jihoon looks over the second he hears you move. Though he's not really paying attention to you but your feet. He keeps trying to look away and finish his work but he's so distracted. You're driving him insane and you don't even notice.

"Okay, I can't decide which one is better." Your sudden voice jolts Jihoon back to reality and he looks up at you to see that you're now just standing there with your phone in your hands, flicking between two photos. "Will you pick for me?" He doesn't have the chance to respond before you turn and approach him. Jihoon's gaze drops back to your shoes and he swallows hard. That you notice. "Ji?" You wonder, stopping at his side and offering your phone. He makes a vague grunt of a sound in response. "Will you pick for me?"

It takes a few seconds for Jihoon to force his eyes to focus on the little screen held out to him. He just stares as you flick between the two photos slow enough that he can get a good view of them both and compare them mentally. At least that's what you hope he's doing. Really, he's just dumbly staring with slightly widened eyes, no thoughts in his head.

"Which one?" You prompt when he remains silent for too long.

"Ei-" He starts but his voice cracks so he quickly clears his throat. "Either."

"Either?"

"Either."

"Right." You mutter, looking at him suspiciously and locking your phone blindly while lowering it. Jihoon lets out a relieved little exhale. "What's going on with you?"

His head darts up to look at you. He looks very caught out, eyes big and cheeks tinted a soft pink. "What? Me? Nothing." He tries to turn back to his computer but you grab the back of his chair and pull it away from the desk. Jihoon yelps and tries to catch the edge of the desk but he doesn't react fast enough, giving you space to nudge him further back and move over to stand right in the way of his computer. "I need to-"

"What's going on?" You demand, crossing your arms over your chest. It feels oddly reminiscent of the very first time your relationship turned from platonic to sexual those months back. You've had an awful lot of sexual encounters since watching him jerk off in that very chair, but you can never forget that first one. Your eyes drop down to his crotch, you're pretty sure he'd be honest if you had disturbed him when he was in the middle of masturbating, in fact, he's told you as much multiple times before and it always ended with you both getting off in some way together. And there's no bulge in his sweatpants, so clearly, that's not the issue here anyway.

"Nothing, let me-" He tries to scoot forward, one hand reaching forward to urge you aside but you lift your foot to put it on the edge of the chair between his thighs to stop it moving. Jihoon immediately freezes, eyes blown wide and glued to your foot a handful of inches away from his crotch. "Fuck," He whispers, slowly leaning back in his seat until his back is pressed against the backrest while his hands grip the armrests.

You stare at him consideringly for a moment, trying to decipher what the fuck is going on here and the whole time, Jihoon's wide eyes remain on your heeled foot. You adjust it a little as you lean back against the desk for balance, you don't intentionally move your foot closer to his crotch, the flat of your shoe more firmly pressed to the seat between his thighs, yet it happens and Jihoon swallows thickly.

It's now that you notice the subtle change in his sweatpants, a sign that Lee Jihoon is getting hard. And suddenly, it all makes an awful lot of sense. Why Jihoon doesn't like it when you wear high heels. Why he's been looking at your feet darkly in what you had initially assumed was hatred. Why he can't seem to remove his gaze from your heeled foot now it's so close to his hardening dick. Lee Jihoon has a high heel kink.

An amused smirk tilts your lips up as you unfold your arms and rest your palms on the desk either side of your ass. "Oh, I see what this is." You muse, tone a little teasing. You know from experience that Jihoon can handle a little teasing where his kinks are concerned, he does the same to you too, but you both never push too far, still walk carefully along that edge ready to pull back in a second if you notice the other getting uncomfortable. Without hesitation, you lift your foot and lightly press it against that rapidly swelling bulge. Jihoon's head immediately tips back and he lets out a broken little moan. "You've got a high heel kink, don't you, babyboy?" You coo, applying a little more pressure and grinning in satisfaction at the moan it pulls from Jihoon's chest. He doesn't even try to respond, just grips the armrests harder and subtly rolls his hips up to press his cock harder against the underside of your shoe. "Cute,"

Jihoon always looks so fucking beautiful like this, when he's focused on his pleasure and moving his hips to search for it without a care in the world, no shame in his veins just pure arousal. You truly do wish you could have him like this always; keep him to yourself selfishly and allow no one else the pleasure of this sight. But you can't, you both may only be seeing each other sexually but you also have agreed that it doesn't have to remain that way at all. Still, it doesn't stop you from wishing this moment could last.

Unfortunately, your legs have other thoughts and the position soon grows uncomfortable and unsteady for you. Jihoon's head jolts up when you remove your foot. His eyes are so heavy-lidded when they land on you and full of betrayal at you removing the source of his pleasure.

"Just give me a second." You giggle amusedly and slide yourself up onto the desk after moving aside his keyboard to give yourself space. "Come here." You encourage, motioning him closer with a curl of your finger. Jihoon immediately rolls over in his chair between your spread thighs and grabs your right leg himself to lift back up and put your foot back against his aching erection.

He doesn't even say anything, just holds your ankle in his left hand and uses his right to press down on the top of your foot and keep the pressure how he wants it while he essentially humps your sole. It's both entertaining and pretty arousing. Seeing Jihoon be so utterly shameless always does something to you, always makes you throb with need for him.

You can't help but wonder how far this kink of his goes, if he just wants to rub against the flat of your shoe, or whether the heel itself plays a part, though you can't imagine it would do much but hurt in a non-pleasurable kind of way if he rutted against the thin stiletto heel. Still, he has a high heel kink, not a regular shoe kink, so the heel has to be important, right?

Curiously, you lift your left foot and place it flat on his right thigh. Jihoon's closed eyes snap open and look at your left foot, his hips slowing down a little now that you have pulled his attention elsewhere. You're very aware of the fact that Jihoon does like some pain during sex, you're not sure of the extent but you're confident enough to not worry here, knowing that he can handle it. You adjust your footing a little then tilt your foot back, digging the thin heel into his thick thigh. Instantly, Jihoon moans, thick and needy as his head tilts back and he goes back to rutting up desperately against your shoe.

"Oh, baby," You hum appreciatively. "Gonna make yourself cum like this, hm?"

"C-can't," It's the first thing he's said in a little while, the first attempt he's even made to utter a single syllable. His voice is deep in the way it gets when he's so full of arousal that he can't think straight. It's truly one of your favourite sounds and always sends a shiver down your spine.

"Can't?" You repeat, adjusting your left foot so it's higher up and angled so that when you press your heel back down against him, it's on his inner thigh. His back arches as he gasps and moans, much higher in pitch than his speaking voice in a contradiction that would make you giggle if you weren't too focused on the arousal simmering in your stomach.

"Can't," He confirms then grips both of your ankles hard to still both feet and give him enough mental clarity to open his eyes and land his dangerously dark gaze on you. You're pretty sure you know what this means and feel yourself clench on nothing in anticipation. Jihoon's jaw flexes a little as he clenches it, and then he's up, kicking his chair away carelessly to grip your thighs and pull you right to the edge of the desk while his lips crash onto yours with burning desperation, tongue quickly darting into your mouth to find your own. "Need you," He informs breathlessly when he pulls back far too quickly for your liking but his hands are working on the fastening of your jeans so you really don't have it in you to complain. Jihoon is about to fuck you and based on how he's acting and the pure need in his eyes, he's going to fuck you so good.

"You need to move so I can take these off." You remind, nudging at his firm stomach to try and get him to back up, but Jihoon refuses. "Ji,"

"No," He answers, moving just enough to pull open the top drawer on his right and grab a condom, one of many he keeps in that drawer so that he can fuck you whenever the mood strikes you both. Admittedly, it's a lot.

"What? How else-" You yelp when he wraps an arm around your waist to lift you enough that he can roughly try and tug your jeans and underwear down. He only manhandles you when he's turned on so much that he can't even think rationally and the only thought on his mind is burying his cock as deep into you as humanly possible. And knowing that, being manhandled by Jihoon only turns you on more than the show of strength itself. You brace yourself with one hand and help him with the other quickly.

Together, you work the clothing down to your mid-thigh and then Jihoon puts you down and forces his hand into the gap between your thighs and the clothes.

"Ji," You gasp as he plunges two fingers right into you, the jeans around your thighs make it hard to spread your legs so you're kind of tight like this, but Jihoon knows you, knows you can take it, especially when you're wet like this. Plus, he already fucked you this morning in your bed so he is certain you can handle this rough behaviour right now.

"Get me ready," He grunts, tracing his lips over your jaw and bullying a third finger into you to curl and stretch them. He can't really thrust them at this angle, he's got very limited space but he does what he can to make you gasp and get wetter by the second.

You reach aside blindly until you find the condom on the desk to grab before your hands find his waistband and yank open the tie to loosen them. You don't even push down his sweats that far, you both can't reach and don't fucking care, just want to get his cock out and in you. Quickly, you shove down his boxers a little and pull his erection out so that as soon as you've got the condom out of the wrapper, you can roll it onto him.

"Hands on the desk." He orders, pulling his fingers from you to grab your thighs and push them up, making your body naturally lean backwards; so you plant your palms on the desk behind you for support and watch as he lifts your legs to his shoulders, resting your calves there before reaching down to grab his erection and line up with you.

Jihoon only glances up at you to check in quickly and noticing that you're more than okay with all of this, he wastes no time burying his hard cock in you right to the hilt. It's another thing he doesn't do unless he's insanely turned on and desperate to cum, go fast from the get-go, he'll usually ease into you to allow you both to savour the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. But when he's like this, he doesn't have the patience for that, he just wants to cum with your pussy hugging him tight.

You both moan at the feeling of getting what you both so desperately want. Jihoon takes a second, then another, squeezing your thighs appreciatively like he always does when he's buried in you, and then he pulls back and starts to fuck into you in short powerful thrusts aimed right at your most sensitive spots. Your head drops back as you moan with every thrust, little ah-ah-ahs that give him all the information he needs to know that he's fucking you right.

As much as Jihoon is desperate to cum, he will never pick his pleasure over your own. Without fail, he'll always make sure you orgasm before him even like this. Though he doesn't have the patience for multiple when he's in this state like he usually gives you before allowing himself to fall over the edge with you. Today is no different, Jihoon wants you to cum first and soon, he can feel himself hurting towards his end. You're so fucking tight like this and he can see those fucking heels in his peripheral and feel the blooming bruises on this thigh from you digging them into his delicate skin. So he slides one hand down from your thigh to force its way between them and thumb at your clit harshly, it's messy and not very coordinated for a usually very coordinated man but there's not much else he can do like this. There's not much else he needs to do. He feels you tightening up around him and groans, hand on your thigh squeezing encouragingly and hips keeping the exact same pace and angle to not risk ruining your impending orgasm.

"Ji," You warn, voice getting higher.

"I-I know," He replies and squeezes again. "Cum for me, baby,"

It's a few more rough presses of his thumb against your clit and then you're tensing up a split second before your back bows and you let out strings of moans and curses mixed with variations of his name in a combination that is pure music to his ears. There's a fraction of a moment here where he regrets not pressing record on the room mic so that he can listen back on this session like he has many of them before, but he doesn't have the brain power to consider it for long.

Jihoon knows you don't need him to keep playing with your clit or fucking the same way to ride through your orgasm so he moves both hands to press against the back of your thighs, folding you up. He hadn't intended for your heels to wind up pressed to his chest, it's just a real fucking happy accident that causes him to rapidly piston his hips, fucking his cock into you with nothing but the intention to cum.

You whine at the fast stimulation, it's teetering on the brink of making you too sensitive as the dregs of your orgasm trickle through your system, and feeling so fucking good that you never want him to stop. It feels good, perhaps too good even but you just take it, eyes rolled back and head lolled back on your shoulders.

After a moment or two, you have enough presence of mind to lift your head and look at Jihoon; his eyes are closed tight, eyebrows furrowed with utter desperate concentration as he chases his high and sweat dappling his forehead. Without thought, you press both heels into his chest and just like that, Jihoon's hips slap harshly against you a few times as his orgasm racks through his body while he chokes out gasping moans and digs his fingers into your thighs tightly. You don't bruise quite as easily as him but you're pretty sure he's going to create at least a few faint ones with how hard he's holding you. Not that you mind.

Slowly, Jihoon falls still and then loosens his hold though he doesn't open his eyes yet as he pants and tries to suck in some air.

You know he's feeling much more like himself again when his hands slide up to lift your legs by the back of your ankles so that he can press a soft, grateful kiss to the exposed skin on the top of each foot. And then he carefully pulls out of you with one hand holding the condom in place and the other supporting your ankles in one hand. He gently helps you lower your legs down before he moves aside to dispose of the condom and grab the wipes from the drawer.

"So," You start when he's back in front of you and doing his best to wipe at your sticky thighs. He looks at you and notices your grin. "High heel kink, huh?"

"Shut up." He scoffs, though there's a twitch to his lips giving away his little smile when he turns to clean himself up too then throws out the wipes.

"What?" You giggle and slide off the desk carefully to pull your underwear and jeans back up and fasten them into place. "It's cute."

"Seriously, babe, shut up."

"No." You giggle and tottle over to throw your arms around him from behind. He sighs and finishes tying up his sweatpants back in place before turning to face you, naturally putting his hands on your waist.

"Hm, maybe you can wear heels around me more." He muses, realising your modest cleavage is right in his face. He leans in and doesn't hesitate to suction onto the skin he can access like this.

"Shall we go now?" You suggest, running your fingers through his hair. He hums against your skin then smooths a hand down to your ass to slap it quickly. "Asshole."

"Mm," He agrees and steps back to eye the growing bruise then lowers his gaze to your feet. "You need to change those though, I can't be seen with my dick hard in public."

"Spoilsport."

"I'm a fucking idol, I can't risk that shit." He scoffs and moves to save his work and turn off everything while you remove the high heels and pack them neatly back into the box they came in.

"Yeah, whatever, they're off. Now let's go get take out and fuck in the backseat."

"Sounds good to me, baby."

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen jihoon x reader #seventeen jihoon smut #seventeen woozi x reader #seventeen woozi smut #svt x reader #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt jihoon x reader #svt jihoon smut #svt woozi x reader #svt woozi smut #svt fic #srb

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 2 days

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Forever in the rain with you - L.SM

🌧Who; Lee Seokmin (Seventeen) x reader 🌧What; I know it starts like it's gonna be angst but it's really not. Reader is just being dramatic. Fluff. Established relationship. 🌧Wordcount; 1.7k 🌧Warnings; Profanity. I don't think there's anything else.

Summary; It's raining again and all you want is Seokmin back.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- I was supposed to be planning a superhero crack(ish) series and looked over at the window and saw the rain so this happened. It was supposed to be all dramatic and serious but apparently I was still in humour brain from the hero idea so it didn't turn into the angst I wanted lol. And then it was supposed to be a quick humourous piece and turned into this gathering of fluff. Seokmin's just so sweet and cute, I couldn't help myself. Thank you to @hannieween for supplying me with wet Seokmin pics for the header! 💖

It's raining again.

You can't help but think of him when it rains. How it rained so heavily on your first date that you were both soaked by the time he had walked you home afterwards, yet he had looked so happy as he smiled at you at the door. How whenever the rain caught you unaware when out, he'd without fail remind you of your first day with a bright, smitten smile on his face. How the more days spent in the rain together made a mutual love and appreciation for the weather over your time as a couple. How the first time he had said /I love you/ was only a few weeks into officially being a couple when he had insisted on pulling over on a drive back from a date to slow dance with you in the rain. Because he saw it in a movie and always wanted to do it. You could never say no to him. How he had lit up like you had given him the keys to the universe, not just your heart when you didn't hesitate to return the sentiment that same day, and then kissed him silly, of course. How something about the slip of the rain against his lips on your own always made it feel more special somehow. Like even though the world was right there reminding you that it existed around you, the pair of you still only had eyes for each other.

A longing sigh leaves your chest as you follow the trail of a slow raindrop as it makes its journey down the windowpane, joining its fellow droplets to gather at the bottom until they are strong enough to overflow and fall from the sill down to the wet ground. Reunited with their fellow fallen until the sun rises and lifts them to start the cycle all over again. "Oh, how I miss you." It's dramatic but true. You miss him, you always do and always will. The moment he left there was already a heavy weight settling in your chest and it has only grown heavier ever since. From the moment he stepped out of the door, all you've wanted is for him to return right to your arms where he belongs.

The moment you hear the lock of the front door disengaging, you turn with big eyes, hands balled up in the hem of your t-shirt in anticipation.

And then he steps into your home, bag of takeout in one hand and utterly dripping with rain. He looks absolutely soaked. And so so so fucking beautiful. You can never get over how gorgeous this man is. This Lee Seokmin. The epitome of all of your wildest and wettest dreams rolled up into one devastatingly sweet and loving man. You can never wrap your head around it, why of all the people in the world, he chose you. But the love you hold bright in your eyes whenever you look at him has always shone just as strongly in his own eyes when they land on you. And today is no different, he looks up from putting the bag on the side table near the door without stepping off the entrance mat, and his face lights up at the sight of you standing there.

"I missed you." You inform simply and shuffle over.

"I only went to meet the deliveryman." He laughs, reaching out to take your dry hand into his wet one. You hold on tight and step closer to press a kiss to his lips. "I missed you too, my dramatic love."

"You make me this way."

"I'm pretty sure you were dramatic from the moment I met you. Definitely. We met in theatre club, sweetheart."

"I love that club."

"You hated it." He recalls with a giggle. "You said the teacher was incompetent and the other members annoying."

"He was and they were. But I never would've met you if it wasn't for that club."

"Ah," Seokmin smiles adoringly at you and cups your cheek. "You're so sweet, all for me, huh?"

"All for you."

"Until when?"

"Until you no longer want me."

"Then forever?"

"Forever." You agree with a firm nod. For a second, an unusual look crosses his face, he looks relieved to hear that but it passes almost immediately. It's a strange look, you think, considering you've been together for over a year and you never fail to let each other know how in love you are on a daily basis.

"Let's go to the roof." He suggests, reaching back to open the door behind him.

"Okay," You chirp happily and swap your slippers for some shoes you don't mind getting wet before you leave the apartment hand in hand and quickly make your way up to the roof of the building.

It isn't the first time you've done this; rushed up to the rooftop just to dance in the rain together, and you hope it will never be the last. That even years down the line when you're older, you'll still do this together. Like it's the first time all over again, it always feels that way.

When Seokmin pulls you close with a gentle touch and tilts forward to rest his forehead on yours while starting to sing softly the same song he always sings for you in these private loving moments, your heart races as if it's the first time. You hope that feeling never goes away.

As Seokmin sings in his melodic voice, romantic words he quotes to you in moments where his own words aren't quite right, the rain soaks you through down to your skin and splats up your feet and ankles as you both glide smoothly around the rooftop.

Nothing could be better.

Except if it lasted for longer than just a few minutes. As the last notes pass Seokmin's lips, you both naturally come to a stop and know you will have to return home in a moment to dry off and get into fresh clothes, even if you would both happily remain blissfully pressed together sweetly in the rain while the world kept revolving around you. So long as you have him and so long as he has you, nothing else matters.

"Do you mean it?" He asks softly as he straightens up and peers down at you.

"Mean what?"

"Forever."

There isn't a single hint of hesitation in your response. "Yes."

Seokmin bites his bottom lip gently for a second, a nervous habit before he nods and slides his arms away from you and takes a step back. You assume that he's getting ready to go inside so you start to take a step, though you fall still when he reaches into his pocket and then lowers down to his knee once his hand is back out. It does not take a genius to understand what is happening here, especially not when he looks up at you and opens the little box to reveal the ring within. "I-" He starts but you're already throwing yourself at him, all but tackling him to the floor. He yelps and quickly snaps the box shut as he tumbles onto his backside, his free arm wrapping around your waist to steady you both. "Sweetheart-"

"I love you, so fucking much, Seokmin." You declare, looking at him so intently, lips trembling a little even with your smile. Seokmin is pretty sure that some of the wetness on your cheeks can be attributed to tears.

"I love you too," He replies automatically, both of you unable to hear those words without returning the sentiment and meaning it wholeheartedly. "I guess this is a yes?" He chuckles, pulling the box between your bodies to open it back up. "I know that we don't need this to know that we're in love and mean it. I've said I want to be by your side forever and mean it, but I would be really happy to be your husband, sweetheart."

"Yes, of course. I would love that so much, Seokie." You sniffle and nod rapidly. So Seokmin plucks the ring from the box to slide it onto your finger. "I'll buy you one too."

"Mm, yeah?" He beams up at you when you both look up from the new jewellery on your finger. You're pretty sure his cheeks are wet for all the same reasons as your own; rain and tears of joy blended into one shine on your skin.

"Yeah, we're both engaged, we both should have a ring." You declare. "It's fair."

"It is. I want a big diamond." He jests. "Bigger than yours."

You laugh softly and gently take his face into your hold to kiss him with all the adoration in you. However, when you lean back and take in the loving expression your brand-new fiancee has on his face, the adoration returns to full capacity. "Whatever you want, it's yours, my love."

"What if I want to stay right here in the rain?" He suggests with a cheeky grin, clearly joking.

"I'd spend forever in the rain with you if that's what you want."

Seokmin's expression softens out before he kisses you once more. "You really are the perfect person for me. My other half. My soulmate."

"The love of my life."

"For all eternity."

"Amen." He laughs at your response.

"We're not religious but okay, amen." He agrees then taps your thighs a few times in a silent sign he wants you up. You sigh, not wanting to remove yourself from him, yet still reluctantly get up and help him to his feet. "Come on, dinner's waiting." He speaks, lacing your fingers together to try and lead you back inside but you remain in place and pull him back gently. "Baby?"

"One more dance?" You request. Seokmin can't resist you, can never say no to you. Not that he wants to.

"One more dance."

It's the same song, the same dance you've been doing for over a year now; but you truly, with everything in you, hope that it never changes.

Forever is a long time, but forever in the rain with Seokmin sounds like the perfect way to live your life to you. Just you, Seokmin and the rain. Forever.

A/N- That proposal really snuck up on me. It was not part of the plan at all and just happened. Please don't be shy to let me know what you think! I know I don't really write little pieces like this but if people like them, I'll try to do more little scenes in the future instead of longer stories. And please reblog if you liked the lil story!

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #seventeen dk x reader #seventeen dokeyom x reader #seventeen seokmin x reader #seventeen dk fluff #seventeen dokyeom fluff #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen dk fic #seventeen dokeyom fic #srb

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 3 days

Text

Session One; Flyin' Solo - L.JH

🎙Who; Lee Jihoon (Seventeen) x reader 🎙What; smut, friends to fuckers, producer/idol Jihoon 🎙Wordcount; 2.8k 🎙Warnings; profanity, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation(m), praise kink, jihoon is a messy boy, i think that's it, let me know if I've missed anything though

Summary; "The last thing you expect when you arrive at your friend's studio to check on him is to find him with a badly concealed erection. And clearly, the right thing to do here is to encourage him to finish what he started under your watchful eye. You know, in case he needs anything."

Minors do NOT interact, which means liking/reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist- 🎙 In The Studio Masterlist 🎙

A/N- This is part one of a series of Jihoon smut that takes place in his studio. I have no idea how many parts there will be in total, I only have 4(including this one) planned currently, but it's kind of an open-ended series anyway. No plot, just cock <3

Honestly, it's not unusual for Jihoon to ignore your messages and leave you on read. It frustrated you to no end at the start of your friendship but these days you know it's his way of telling you that he's seen your message and is aware but just doesn't have the time to respond right now. He never fails to respond later though when he has the chance and often with an apology for not responding faster; which can come in the form of literally verbally apologising or simply offering to pay for dinner. So these days, you don't really mind the lack of response and honestly always assume he'll reply in a few hours.

However, what you do mind is when it's been multiple days of him leaving messages on read. It's not that you take it as a personal attack, because you know he values your friendship too much for that. But you do know it means that Lee Jihoon is being a damn idiot and not taking care of himself yet again.

Which brings us to you once again turning up unannounced at his studio ready to physically drag his ass out to get some fresh air and food. Well, drag is an exaggeration because that muscle-ridden fool is too strong for you to move, and you know that if he truly didn't want you to get your way he could easily overpower you. Yet he never does and always lets you yank him out of his studio, once he's saved his work of course, because he knows you only have his best interests in mind.

You've already pressed the buzzer once, and usually that's enough to have Jihoon answering the door yet this time he doesn't. Perhaps he's fallen asleep, but if that's so, you think it's even more reason to get him out of there and tuck him up in his own comfortable bed. Just as you press the buzzer again, the door creaks open and Jihoon's slightly wide eyes peek out. Clearly, he had not been sleeping, he's far too alert.

"Oh, hi," He mutters and licks his lips while glancing over his shoulder quickly before looking back at you. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"It's been days, you gremlin, come out of your cave." You retort, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a firm look. The same look you always give him when he's being careless with his health like this.

Jihoon pulls a face, considering and tucks his features behind the door out of view for a second while still holding it in the barely open position, before he sighs and steps back while pulling the door open and not making eye contact with you. "Just let me save."

You hum in agreement and step into the studio after removing your shoes on the mat beside his own, then move over to sit on the couch in wait. Jihoon shuts the door and then shuffles over to sit at his desk. You're so used to him by now that you immediately know something is up, even if you can't tell what it is. He's moving so awkwardly and angled with his back to you. The tense line of his shoulders loosens a little once he's in his seat and tucked under his desk but he still isn't his usual self. "Ji?" You worry. He hums. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yep, fine, I'm fine." He replies, nodding quickly.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Don't you fucking dare. You know I hate it when people lie to me." You warn, frowning at him. He knows that very well and always backs you up when you're annoyed at someone else lying to you. "Tell me the truth."

"Just," He sighs and waves a hand without looking at you. "Give me a minute, I'll be fine in a minute."

"You can't always brush things aside, Jihoon, it's not healthy." He mutters something under his breath. "What?"

"Nothing, don't worry, just talking to myself."

You stare at the back of his head for a minute. He perhaps looks even more tense now that you've called him out. "Face me." He freezes.

"What?"

"Turn your ass around and face me, Lee Jihoon." You demand.

Jihoon swears under his breath at the use of his full name, knowing that you're really not fucking around. Unless he wants to truly piss you off, he has no choice but to listen. He's made the mistake again of ignoring you before and seen your mutual friends do it too, it never ends well.

"Fine, fuck," He grumbles and presses save before slowly, reluctantly pushing his chair out from under the desk to allow him to gradually spin to face you. His face is a wonderful shade of embarrassed pink as he keeps his head turned away so that he doesn't have to see your reaction.

It takes you less than a fraction of a split second to notice the problem. It's pretty fucking prominent in his dark grey shorts, after all. Honestly, impressively prominent. "Huh," You comment both in surprise that you seem to have interrupted your friend in the midst of taking care of himself, and the size of the issue at hand. Or well, no longer being at hand is the real issue here if you want to be technical about it.

"Don't," He begs in a mutter.

"Don't what? I'm not doing anything! Though clearly, you were." You smirk at him, though he's still not looking at you. He sighs and leans his face onto his left palm where his elbow is resting on his armrest at his side. His blush is even darker now.

"Just shut up, please,"

"No,"

"You're such a fucking brat,"

"Mm, yep." You confirm shamelessly. Jihoon lifts his head just enough to peer over at you intrigued. In this setting, in this context, your agreement sounds more like an admittance to bedroom habits and he can't help but wonder if that's true or not. "Well, I came here to check on you, make sure you're taking care of yourself and I clearly interrupted that." He makes a frustrated sound at your teasing and opens his mouth to respond while straightening a little, less embarrassed now. But your words cut him off. "So don't let me stop you, Jihoonie."

Jihoon's mouth closes slowly, then opens again before he licks his suddenly dry lips and manages to get a response out, oh so eloquently. "What?"

"I said, don't let me stop you."

"Yeah, I heard that."

"Then what's the problem?" You motion to his crotch in a manner that very much looks like you're inviting him to his own body. You are. "Go on."

"With you there?" He mumbles, very aware that his cock is coming back to life at the thought and hoping you don't notice.

You do and smirk as your eyes watch the already impressive bulge against his thigh swell. "I fucking knew you like being watched." You grin at him teasingly and cross your arms over your chest cockily.

"And you like watching."

"Yep so, gonna give us what we both want?" You goad, raising an eyebrow at him and slouching into a more comfortable position. Really settling in for the show.

"Fuck," He gives in with a strong exhale and reaches down to yank the tie of his shorts open so that the waistband will loosen enough to allow him to reach inside. For a split second, he hesitates, his right hand gently wrapped around his hard length, but then he looks at you and sees that you're already intently staring at his crotch, so he throws all caution to the wind and tugs his cock out.

"Huh," You repeat your earlier sound of a comment at the sight of his exposed erection. It's definitely bigger than you had expected, thicker too and surprisingly pretty for a cock. You kind of want to go over and offer a hand, and by hand you mean your mouth, but this isn't about you, it's about Jihoon so you stay in place.

"Don't say something weird." He requests, sounding like he's seconds from scolding you.

"Weird? Me? Never," You snigger. "I was just thinking you're bigger than I expected, is all."

"Than expected?" He repeats with interest lacing his words as his hand starts to slowly stroke his length, fingers just about overlapping around the girth. It's impressive, you'll admit.

"Yeah,"

"That sounds like you've thought about my cock,"

"What if I have?" He hisses a little and tightens his grip.

"You have?" You hum shamelessly. Jihoon's head tips back fractionally at the thought of you imagining him. He doesn't even know what you imagined exactly; if it was genuinely a sexual thought of the two of you or just a curiosity about what he's hiding under his clothes. All he needs to know is you thought of him in some state of undress and he's speeding up his actions as the arousal in his veins burns brighter.

"I may have been wrong about your size but I was right about something."

It takes Jihoon a second to react, he's so focused on the pleasure rapidly building in his body. He had been so close to cumming before you interrupted that he knows it won't take long at all. Especially not with your intense gaze glued to him, he can feel it and knows you haven't looked away once even if his eyes are currently closed. You were on the money about him, he really is a giant fucking exhibitionist so having you watching him is sending him hurtling towards his orgasm at a speed that would be embarrassing if he wasn't so fucking horny. Jihoon rolls his head as he opens his eyes to look at you. "About - shit- what?" He wonders, swallowing at the look in your eyes as you drag them up his body to meet his hooded gaze.

"How fucking pretty you'd look." A low moan leaves Jihoon's parted lips as his eyes roll a little. "Oh, you like being praised, pretty boy?"

"Fuck off,"

"Really? Want me to leave and let you finish this all alone with no one to watch and tell you how gorgeous you look right now?"

"Shit," His face scrunches a little in concentration, eyes tightly closed and hand picking up enough speed that he's letting out consistent little grunts and moans of pleasure.

"Well?" You tease, watching as more precum dribbles out of his cock for his hand to immediately swipe over his length and ease the glide.

"N-no, fuck, stay, tell me." He insists, tone taking on a desperate edge. "Tell-tell me. Please. Fuck, 'm so close, baby,"

"Good, I want to see you cum, Jihoonie, I bet you're going to look so fucking beautiful. You already do. Look so good touching yourself like this, Ji, so fucking pretty. Wish I could frame you; pin you up on the wall to look at whenever I want." You're honestly not paying much attention to what you're saying, you're too enthralled by the rolling of his hips into his fist. It's desperate, all wet with audible squelches of his precum under his palm. And it's perhaps one of the hottest things you've seen in person. He's not even doing anything particularly special, just jerking himself off in front of you but he truly looks breathtaking and so desperate to cum it's driving you kind of insane. "Being so good for me, aren't you? Letting me see you all pretty like this. Going to cum, yeah? Show me how pretty you look?"

Jihoon does not have the ability to react other than nodding his head quickly, mouth hanging open. And then he's cumming, eyes rolling back as his back arches away from the chair and filthy moans spilling from his lips. You watch almost hypnotised as he cums all over his thighs and the seat between his spread legs. There's a surprising amount of it and at the back of your mind you wonder if he has a spare pair of shorts or sweatpants hanging around, but at the forefront, all you can wonder is what his cum tastes like.

"Good boy," You mutter out when his hand stops shakily milking his length and prolonging his pleasure. Jihoon's lips twitch up a little at the praise in an automatic response but he's too busy floating on cloud nine while trying to suck some oxygen into his heaving lungs to respond.

For a moment, you just watch Jihoon as he slumps in his seat absolutely sated and relaxed, hand still around his cock but just holding it now pointlessly. And then you get up and grab the packet of wipes from the desk. You're not sure what the boundaries are here, so even though you'd ordinarily clean up your partner, you just tap the packet against his left shoulder until he reaches up and takes one from the opening.

"Thanks," He murmurs and slowly opens his eyes while tilting his head down to look down at his crotch. "Shit." He pulls a face.

"Messy boy, huh?"

"Shut up." He grabs more wipes from the packet and gets to work doing his best to clean up.

"Do you have spare shorts?"

"Mm, yeah," He motions over to a cupboard so you go inside and find a stack of clothing there. "Actually, can you grab sweats instead?" You hum and grab a pair of sweatpants before returning to him.

Patiently, you stand there and watch as Jihoon finishes cleaning up to the best of his abilities then removes his shorts and boxers. "Oh, I didn't grab boxers," You point out.

"Don't have any there anyway." He shrugs and takes the sweatpants from you to pull up over his legs and ass and tie the string together to keep them on his hips. You just stare at him dumbly. Something about the thought of Jihoon not wearing underwear under those very worn sweatpants makes your brain short-circuit a little. "You alright?" He muses when he looks up and notices you staring down at his bottom half.

"No,"

"No?" He laughs and picks up his clothes from the floor to carefully ball up, dirty sides turned in on themselves and shove them into his backpack to take home.

You don't elaborate and he doesn't ask, figuring you'd say something if it's important or relevant to him, even if he's pretty sure you're definitely thinking about him right now.

Jihoon tidies up the studio and shuts down his computer in calm quiet before moving back over to stand in front of you with his backpack slung over his shoulder ready to leave. "So uh, I'm thinking that maybe we should do that again sometime?" He suggests, cheeks pinkening again to a pretty, soft shade. You blink at him, trying to bring yourself to the topic and not think about his cock flopping around in his sweatpants. "Yes, no?"

"Again?" You question and he nods. "Watching you cum?"

"Yeah and well, maybe I can watch you too, if you want?"

"I'd rather you fuck me." You mutter without thought making him gawp at you. "Wait, shit-"

"Okay." Jihoon quickly snaps back to reality and nods, cutting off your rush to try and correct what you had momentarily worried was a step too fucking far. "I'll fuck you whenever you want, babygirl, just tell me when."

"Now. Now would be good. You're really hot and I am wet." His eyes widen then turn hooded rapidly before he reaches out to grab the front of your jumper and pull you towards him.

"You're wet?" You nod shamelessly. "For me?"

"Yeah," You pout and tap your fingers against his chest mindlessly. "You should really do something about it."

Jihoon's voice is a low murmur when he responds. "I should." He agrees and then licks his lips. "But I don't have any condoms here so we're going to have to go get some."

"I have some at home." You declare, very willing to take him home and hopefully spend the night working your way through your supply of condoms. "And you should really get some for here for next time."

"Oh, I plan on it. Gonna bend you over my desk one day, yeah?"

"Fuck yeah." You glance at his lips then rush over to the door.

"What the fuck? I thought we were going to at least kiss." He points out puzzled, and a little offended and disappointed.

"I'm too horny, I don't trust myself to have the self-control to stop right now. So let's fucking go Lee Jihoon."

He knows better than to say no when you use his full name. Not that he'll ever say no when it comes to fucking you, as you very soon find out as you begin a wonderful, intensely pleasurable journey of fucking Lee Jihoon. And it all started in the studio.

A/N- Fun fact; I almost put "put you on my shelf" instead of "pin you up on the wall" but the shelf one made me imagine a tiny little figurine sized Jihoon violently beating his meat so I had to stick with the wall comment instead lol

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 4 days

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Thinking about; rock band Seventeen

(Don't ask me the reason for this particular photo because I have none <3 )

The thought of drummer Seungcheol randomly came into my head so then this happened and now I'm kinda really into it

95z band + maknae line band = dream band 🎸wc; 1k-ish 🎸warnings; profanity. mentions of past fighting. cheol's big beefy self is a warning in of itself. this is all a platonic thing btw, no relationships explored though chan's crush on someone else is mentioned

-2024 masterlist-

A/N- pls ignore the weird/lack of formatting/style/editing whatever, I have no reason for it other than this was a mess in my head so you must read it with random capitalisation even though it's mostly lowercase <3

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

It all started with the Terror Twins making lil covers, shua with his acoustic and hannie mostly singing but he'd whip out his bass when necessary or use his very limited drumming skills to tap out a little beat to beef up their covers. ((everyone calls them Terror Twins so they took it for their band name btw))

And then one day hannie is like "you know I actually know a drummer, he's more heavy stuff but he's taking a break rn and he owes me so if you want to try something new…?" and shua is just like, "kay, call him up"

Which is how cheol comes into the mix, a big beefy intimidating leather jackets and sleeveless band tees dude with these two lil soft bois. But the pair aren't called Terror Twins for nothing and have no fear of the muscle thick dude, as they shouldn't because he's really a soft babie around those he cares about. And he quickly comes to care about the pair and soon discovers that shua is ripped under his oversized soft jumpers and baggy shirts so they become gym buddies.

Anyway, the three start off with acoustic stuff really but its clear cheol needs to actually whack some shit regularly so they evolve into a bit more pop punky, which still isn't what cheol is used to but its a step up and the terror twins both have too gentle voices for anything heavier ((They remain as Terror Twins despite now having 3 members because none of them can be bothered to think of a new name or update all their social media))

They quickly gather a decent following in their local scene and that's how they meet another trio, Layers, and befriend them and take on a protective big brother band role to the three

Layers love having a big brother band, especially as it has the scary cheolie who only needs to step up close to any of them when there's trouble and whoever is trying to start a fight backs off. ((cheol's muscles aren't just for show and he was kind of known at one point for not backing down during fights. but that's a story for another time and before hannie asked for him to join the band))

Funnily enough, the one who hangs around the most is actually Layers guitarist and youngest, Chan. He's often found at their rehearsal space watching awed and plucking at the air as if playing along without thought to whatever Terror Twins are playing

Honestly shua and hannie are half convinced that chan is in love with cheol because the maknae tends to follow the eldest around and hang off his every word. but when they ask hansol & seungkwan, they find out that chan is just trying to learn how to be cheol both in a hero worship kind of way because he thinks cheol is "the coolest fucking dude ever" and because chan has a whole thing for another drummer from another local band who he's heard exclusively only dates fellow heavy rock musicians ((It isn't until much later that chan realises how much cheol is his crush's type, yikes))

But anyway, back to the music

One day, cheol drops chan off for a Layers rehearsal after having the maknae once again hanging around Terror Twin's rehearsal all morning And when cheol enters he hears these insane vocals and is genuinely shocked dumb silent when he walks in and sees kwan belting out lyrics. and to make it even worse, solie is just sat there scrolling on his phone not even paying any attention and chan walks over to his guitar without acknowledging the rawest fucking vocals cheol has ever heard??? like what the fuck how can they just act like it's nothing??? clearly they're used to it by now and cheol really understands the reason for their band's name, they truly do have endless layers. (he knows it's a shrek reference, okay, he just won't acknowledge it)

cheol can't help but record the last twenty seconds of kwan's singing before he's kicked out to let the trio practise and he needs to get back anyway to work on new material with his own band. and the second he's back with his own band, he whips out his phone to show them the video and from the look on the duos face, cheol knows they're thinking the same thing

which leads to a few days later when Terror Twins invite Layers over to hang out. Though they give chan shua's spare guitar and put hansol and seungkwan in front of the two microphones set up and start playing chan quickly plays along, easily recognising an iconic linkin park song and is thrilled to have the chance to play something like this when Layers tends to be more rap focused thanks to sol(not that chan minds because he loves their music but he's a rock babie at heart) solie shrugs and grabs the mic while kwan just stands there really awkwardly. it makes cheol stop playing which causes the others to stop too "I know you can do it, kwannie, you're wasting your vocal talents, and it's a fucking shame" "he's right boo, you don't go anywhere near as hard as you can" sol agrees "i know you're scared that people won't like your real voice but we're all friends here, right, just two bands jamming to a classic we all know. just one song and we're done, yeah?"

But it wasn't just one song and they certainly weren't done. That very same day the two bands posted on their social media that they were no longer going to be performing like that and the accounts won't be used again And they linked to a brand new account for the new band with the six of them, Third Time Lucky.

The six very quickly get the recognition they deserve, especially kwan with his insane vocal range from soft lullaby worthy to rough dragging to power vocals, he can do it all and their fan forever shower his voice with praise giving him the confidence he has always been lacking

They could be internationally famous if they want to, they've had endless offers for collabs, appearances on shows and main stage festival offers, but they don't really care about all that They just wanna make their music and have a good time so that's what they do

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

A/N- I kind of now want to explore Chan& his crush + crush's background with Cheol more 👀 also that pic gives me chan oral fixation vibes so I'm also stuck on that 🥴

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 5 days

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seventeen as random stuff ive retweeted - part [1/??]

+ bonus (bc i luv my man <3)

#Love these kinda things

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 5 days

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In The Studio masterlist

🎙Who; Lee Jihoon (Seventeen) x reader + guests in some parts 🎙What; Smut series. FWB. Producer/idol Jihoon 🎙Wordcount total so far; 6.6k(roughly) 🎙Warnings; Each part will have its own warnings so pay attention to them please and only read what you are comfortable with. I really don't know myself what will happen in each part but I know it's not plot. No plot, just cock(and the rest) <3

You begin a wonderful, intensely pleasurable journey of fucking Lee Jihoon. And it all starts In The Studio.

This is an NSFW series so minors do NOT interact, which means liking/reblogging/commenting. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Session one; Flyin' Solo 🎙Wordcount; 2.8k 🎙Warnings; profanity, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation(m), praise kink, jihoon is a messy boy "The last thing you expect when you arrive at your friend's studio to check on him is to find him with a badly concealed erection. And clearly, the right thing to do here is to encourage him to finish what he started under your watchful eye. You know, in case he needs anything."

Session two; Secret's Out 🎙Wordcount; 3.8k 🎙Warnings; profanity, high heel kink, dick stepping(light), marks, slight pain kink, manhandling, fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk "Everyone knows that Jihoon does not like high heels. Everyone assumes it's because he's insecure about his height. Everyone happens to be very fucking wrong."

Session three; A Lesson Learned? ft. Kwon Soonyoung 🎙Wordcount; TBA 🎙Warnings; TBA "There's something about Soonyoung today that makes you want to play with him. Who cares if it's in Jihoon's studio while Soonyoung is supposed to be recording his lines."

Session four; The Chair ft. Choi Seungcheol 🎙Wordcount; TBA 🎙Warnings; TBA "One day, Jihoon will return from a toilet break and find you without your hands on one of his members, today is not that day."

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 6 days

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Member Applications > Open

Come join The K-Fic Collection! Do you like to read and discuss Seventeen fics? Do you want to connect with other Caratblr readers and writers? Then this is the network for you!

The K-Fic Collection is a reading club where members will read and review SFW & NSFW K-pop fanfiction. Through weekly and monthly fic reads, we bring readers and writers together in fun and engaging ways, all with one goal in mind: to promote the many wonderful works Tumblr has to offer!

Does that sound like something you would interested in? Then carefully read through the rest of the post and join us!

Requirements to apply:

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How to join:

Follow The K-Fic Collection blog;

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Run and created by Head Librarian Chee and Head Librarian JiJi. Updated; 28/05/2024.

#caratblr #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt angst #seventeen angst #kpop #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #svt fanfiction #svt fanfic #svt fic #svt x reader

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 6 days

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My dream as a writer isn’t to get published and make a lot of money, it’s to have a fanbase devoted enough that I can post a story about a background character that had four lines or drop a piece of obscure lore and they go crazy over it

#that'd be so cool tbh

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 7 days

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There's a snake in my pants - K.MG

🤠Who; Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x gender-neutral reader 🤠What; Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu] 🤠Word count; 2.3k 🤠Warnings; Profanity. Critter mentions (literally the word critter plus snake but uhhh not the animal). Misuse of a lasso, bad Mingyu, but it's funny dw. And no one gets hurt. Mentions of pervert/voyeur Wonwoo but it's not plot relevant. Very suggestive in general but no smut or actual sexual actions. Reader wears lingerie.

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; Your boyfriend wants to try a new sexy roleplay idea, it doesn't go well.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- This goes out to @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I hope you enjoy reading this as if you don't already know exactly what's going to happen anyway from my screaming about the himbo cowboy collective (omg series idea???) Thank you for encouraging me to live my best crack life, sweetheart 💖 And big thank you to @wonuvs for helping me so much with the header, I know it must've been hard to look at shirtless Mingyu so much 💖

Approximately twenty minutes ago, your lovable idiot of a boyfriend told you to go and wait on your bed for him, gave you a wink then skipped off with an excited giggle. Which, cute, yes, but also very very worrying.

As much as you adore Mingyu, you are very aware that he has some rather questionable ideas in general, what with him being what you would call a Class A Himbo; and unfortunately, he has brought those questionable ideas into the bedroom on more than one occasion. There is now a strict rule about no balloons in the bedroom and likely not for the reason you think.

So although you do go to your shared room and get dressed down in a lingerie set you know that he likes, you truly can't say that you exactly have high hopes for whatever your boyfriend has planned.

When the door creaks open, you're confused because all you see is Mingyu's hand appearing from one side to nudge the door open as wide as it can go. It takes a few pushes of his fingers before the door does actually swing open and then his arm darts back. A second later, Mingyu gallops into view and you don't know if you want to laugh or mentally log out more.

Because gallop isn't even an inaccurate description of the way he enters. Like a child pretending to play cowboys with one of those long wooden poles with the plush horse's heads set on one end with attached reigns. You can't tell if the fact he has one of those children's toy horses makes it worse or not. You can't even admire the way his thick thighs, showcased by just the tiny pair of boxer briefs he's wearing, are pressed tight around either side of the thick wooden pole to keep it upright with both of his hands barely fitting on the tiny little loop of faux-leather that makes up the reigns.

All Mingyu is wearing are those tiny little dark boxers that don't even fully cover his asscheeks, a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. Oh, and there's some thin dark rope looped diagonally over his bare chest. That can't be good.

"Howdy partner." Mingyu starts, entirely serious in his roleplay and doing his best to put on the 'cowboy voice' you know that he and his friends have been practising together to be 'real cowboys'.

Even though you're still trying to figure out exactly how you feel about this particular roleplay choice of your boyfriend, you can't help but at least humour him. He's far too cute and sweet in general to not try, at the very least, to play along. "Howdy, cowboy," You reply, a little dumbstruck yet Mingyu lights up brightly all the same.

He wiggles slightly in excitement, forgetting himself a little in his joy, then remembers he's supposed to be a 'sexy, serious cowboy-man' and schools his expression. He doesn't even notice the amused twitch of your lips at his slip. "I'm new to town and I hear you're the person to come to when there's trouble."

"Oh, there's trouble, is there?" You hum and shuffle to sit up against the headboard. You're internally very relieved when he removes the horse and props it against the wall. It's much easier to take him seriously when he's standing there in all his ridiculously handsome glory.

"Yes, ma'am." Oh, you could get used to him saying those words in that voice, pitched slightly lower than normal and a little rough. Maybe their 'cowboy meetings' have been more successful than you've realised. Because Mingyu, nor his friends, have improved very much in the actual horse riding aspect of being a modern-day cowboy. But at least the voice is getting good.

"Sounds serious."

"It is." He steps a little closer, hands on his hips and you can't tell if it's intentional or not but it draws your eyes to his crotch in those tiny boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. Not that you need to imagine what he's packing underneath when he's always so willing to let you see, and feel, and taste. "Do you think you can help a cowboy out, ma'am?"

"Keep calling me ma'am and it sounds pretty likely." You mutter and lift your gaze back up to his face. He's smirking at you now, well aware of how much you love his body. "Tell me, what's the issue, cowboy?"

"Well, you see, it involves a certain critter," You try not to giggle at him using the term critter, you can't help it when all you can think of is the endearing way he and his friends will call any living animal or insect critter; often in a loud screech when a bug flies too close to them.

"Ooh, I see. You have a critter problem."

"That I do, ma'am."

"And a big strong cowboy like you can't handle a single critter?"

"I'm more skilled with the bigger critters."

"So this critter is small?" You wonder how many times the two of you will use the term critter, it really does not help set the mood, just amuses you honestly. This situation has already devolved in your mind and Mingyu hasn't even noticed, he's still very serious about his big-boy cowboy role-play.

"Yes," His face drops. "Wait, no! It's not." He pouts a little, barely a little protrusion of his bottom lip.

"So it's not big enough for you to handle yourself, but it's not small?" He nods and slips back into character. "How big is it exactly?"

"Big enough." You think you understand what he's trying to do here. But you're willing to let it play out at least.

"Okay, give it to me."

"Give it to you?" His eyes round out a little with the excitement those words bring him.

"I mean, tell me what it is." You correct and try not to giggle at the disappointed little oh he lets out, understanding the miscommunication there.

Though, once again, he gets right back into character and locks his serious, sultry gaze on you as the tips of his thumbs hook into the waistband of his boxers without removing his hands from his hips. "There's a snake in my pants." Yup, that's about exactly where you thought he was going with this.

"I can't believe you've defiled my childhood like that, Mingyu." You deadpan, unimpressed. His arms drop along with his expression.

"What? What did I do wrong? It's just a line!" He whines. "Wonwoo taught it to me!"

"Wonwoo?" You sigh. "Baby, what have I told you about listening to Wonwoo where sex is involved?"

"That he's wrong that sitting in the tree outside our window with binoculars isn't a natural biology lesson no matter if he takes notes." He replies in very much the tone of a man who has had those very words drilled into him many times.

"I…well yes, that is a very good one, thank you for remembering." Mingyu perks up a little at your approving response. "But that's not what I meant."

"Uhm," He thinks hard. "That he's wrong that you have to bark during doggy style." That particular memory sends shivers down your spine, you had hoped to forget it.

"Also very correct and please don't bring that up again."

"I'm sorry, I really thought he knew what he was talking about!" Mingyu defends quickly. "He's so smart, baby!"

"Uh," You don't know how to respond. Wonwoo is not smart, he may look scholarly with his glasses and cardigans when he's lounging around, but he is, like your boyfriend, just another pretty himbo. All four of the group are and you still can't tell who's the worst of them. Still, you adore the four and would never change a thing about any of them, even if their dumbassery has caused a lot of trouble since they moved to town. So you move on. "The point is, Gyu, you shouldn't listen to Wonwoo's sex advice, ever. Remember that?"

"Oh, right, yeah, you've said that before." He nods slowly in understanding, looking kind of dejectedly down at the bedframe. He looks like a scolded puppy, it pulls your heartstrings enough to want to try and salvage the situation.

"Was this whole roleplay Wonwoo's idea?" You wonder. Mingyu looks up at you and shakes his head, lips pouted cutely at you and eyes big. "Yours?"

"Yeah. And Seungcheol's. You've never told me not to take sex advice from him!"

Okay, you have to admit, Seungcheol is probably the only one from Mingyu's three besties that you think would give pretty decent sex advice, you know he at least has active ongoing experience with a friend of your own and they've always sung his praises. Wonwoo is…well nobody knows for sure if Wonwoo has ever actually had sex. He kind of gives off horny virgin energy, honestly whenever sexual conversations come up but he's always been pretty smooth when flirting so it could go either way. And the fourth of their group is precious, naive Seokmin; you know he has experience himself but he's a very sweet guy and always seems scandalised when anything out of vanilla is mentioned.

"Okay, then I'm willing to pick this back up if you really want to try it, sweetheart."

"I do!" Mingyu beams and suddenly looks as if you've offered him the world on a silver platter, drizzled in sweet syrup ready for him to slurp up. Oh, does that remind you of another one of his slightly less questionable bedroom surprises. But that's an entirely different story. "Okay, okay," Mingyu takes a few breaths to calm his visible joy, it's so cute watching him bring his hands up as he inhales deeply then turn and push them palms downwards to the floor as he exhales.

He may have some very odd ideas, but man, did you score an adorable sweetheart of a boyfriend who you hope will never change and always remain this way. You've not even been together that long, just a handful of months really, but you're pretty sure he's it for you. Your forever. The one you want to spend the rest of your life with.

When he's collected himself, he turns back to you and decides to entirely bypass the whole snake in his pants section, wisely so you think, and starts to remove the ropes from around his torso. He only knocks his hat off twice, though you barely notice because now all you can think about is the fact that it seems like you won't be the one to have to bring up bondage.

While you're wondering if your big beefy boyfriend is about to hogtie you and have his way with you, Mingyu gathers the long rope in his right hand and then takes one end into his left. It's then that you notice the very distinct large loop in one end.

Horror spreads through your body as you realise that Kim Mingyu has brought a fucking lasso into the bedroom. "Gyu-" You start in warning yet he's already pulling his arm back and launching the rope in your general direction. You yelp automatically, expecting to get hit in the face, yet it doesn't touch you. There's a loud crash on your right so you look over only to find that the only remaining one of the pair of bedside lamps is now in pieces on the hardwood flooring, the loop of Mingyu's lasso caught around the shade. It's like the balloon incident all over again. And now you have no bedside lamps, thanks to Kim Mingyu.

There's pure silence for a tense few seconds as you both stare dumbly at the mess on the floor.

Mingyu's whisper breaks the silence "Fuck." And then you burst into howling laughter. "Babe!" He whines but you can't stop, toppling over onto your side on the bed with the power of your laughs.

The whole situation has been a mess from start to finish. It's a miracle you lasted this long without some kind of breakdown. You're just glad it's the laughing kind and not the mental kind.

It takes a minute of poutily grumbling about working him hard on the scenario, learning how to tie a lasso knot and modelling endless hats and boots for his friends so they can help him pick the right ones before the humour of it all actually hits Mingyu.

It starts with a little giggle and then he looks between you and the broken lamp a few times and has to flop across the bed as he laughs along with you, uncaring that his hat falls off.

Slowly, both of you stop laughing and calm enough to look at each other. You're still grinning like fools and there are tear tracks down your cheeks from it, but you're happy. He's happy. That's all that matters.

Mingyu shuffles over to you in a manner that makes giggles bubble out of your throat until he's on his side close enough to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips. "I love you," He informs gently when he pulls back to look adoringly into your eyes. Your expression softens and quickly melts into the mirror of his own as you brush your fingertips over his cheek.

"I love you too." You reply, smiling as he lays his hand over the back of yours to hold it in place as he turns his head to kiss your palm, planting his love right there where you can keep it safe for as long as you want to. And then he looks back at you and holds your palm to his cheek. "Just no more lassos in the bedroom,"

Mingyu laughs and nods in agreement. "No more lassos in the bedroom."

"House in general. Indoors. No lassos indoors."

"Okay, baby," He giggles and kisses you once more sweetly before getting up and picking his hat up off the mattress to plop on your head when you sit up. You adjust it so that you can watch as he crouches down beside the broken lamp to begin cleaning up the mess you made. And as you watch him, there's only one thought on your mind.

Yeah, he really is it for you.

A/N- Believe it or not, the original idea that caused this one has a much higher crack content and I may have to write that too. This story can be considered a spin-off of that, or one in the collection of the same universe focused on the 4 himbos and their adventures.

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 7 days

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Never Shall We Die (1)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »»

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k (June 6th, 8PM GST) | Part 3: 15.8k (June 7th, 8PM GST)

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tagin following parts

[AN]: thank you so much to @highvern for betaing for me and helping out with the plot so much, this fic would not exist if it weren't for her!!!! and thank you reader!!! for clicking on this and reading it, this one's been about 7 months in the works and I would love to hear what your thoughts are when you're done, plsplspls leave a rb or a reply with your brainrot lol <3 happy reading

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground.

No, that’s a branch.

Or is it a plank?

He doesn’t try to find out as he yanks his foot out of whatever stopped him from moving. A tree root, he finds as he kicks the remnants of jungle rubbish from the surface of the shrouded root. He kicks it to satisfy himself.

His crew resides on the beach; where he can see them attempt to build a fire before sundown, the mound of discombobulated twigs making up most of the sad pile of wood. Hoshi trudges up to it and drops another handful of puny branches into the mix.

Exhaling loudly as Mingyu calls for him, he falls to his bottom and sits cross legged on the sand. Mingyu trudges up next to him to inspect his pile, sighing when he realised this was all he had to work with. He picks up two hefty looking stones and begins to strike them together, putting his faith in the primitive fire.

Hoshi stares into the horizon, watching the died down waves drift onto the shore, moving closer by the minute.

Hoshi thinks, which he can’t say is something that he does very often. Perhaps that’s why he was sat on this nature-overrun island as a shipless captain of his shipless crew. He chews on his tongue as he thinks of his Tigress, his beloved hunk of wood and metal; the beloved hunk of wood and metal that he could not see on the shoreline, because she was taken by the royal navy.

He wonders if Tigress would ever forgive him for letting that happen to her, for letting those clean, soft handed soldiers rip her away from his grasp.

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

Mingyu is frantic over the small flame that erupts in the middle of his leaves, dropping his rocks to blow into the fire, encouraging it to grow.

“Captain, it’s done! We can rustle up those fish we caught, have supper sorted.”

“Hm.”

The bustle of the entire crew lasts until night has fallen and they’ve gotten food in their stomachs. Hoshi hasn’t moved from his spot for hours, something the others noticed very quickly, but decided not to mention for fear of waking something dangerous. They understood he was suffering from a broken heart.

It isn’t until the first of the crew had begun to doze off that Hoshi speaks. Chan is propped up against a tree while Seungkwan and Jeonghan laugh at the dangerously low coconut that hangs above his head. Mingyu readjusts his trousers after a full meal. Minghao stretches onto the sand, feet facing the water.

His voice isn’t loud, nor is it commanding, nor does it have his usual edge of jest—in fact, it sounds nothing like Hoshi at all.

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

YOU'RE AWOKEN BY THE sound of yelling. Which is never a good sign in any case, but especially not when it’s pitch black outside and you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

The grogginess is quick to fade as you try to understand what’s going on outside your quarters. Your room isn’t a mess, all the trinkets and royal seals remaining in their places on the walls and shelves. Nor is the ship lurching or moving in odd angles to indicate an unexpected spat from the skies. A quick peek outside the window shows you clear, calm water amidst the mostly dark expanse of ocean.

There is only one other answer in your head that would cause this much commotion—especially on a boat where the admiral resides (and a princess).

Slipping out of the covers, your feet hit the cool hardwood floors of your quarters, a small shiver going through your spine from the cold, with nothing to cover you but your thin nightgown. You’re in the middle of tying your robe to see what the ruckus was about outside when a particularly loud thud hits outside of your door. You immediately freeze.

Staring at the doorknob, you attempt to move backwards in the space, heart beating faster as you watch the knob move slightly. The back of your knees hit the bedside table with a thud, the sound has you gasp out loud. Whoever it was outside your door jiggles the knob harder, the force exerted having you scan the room for something you could use as a weapon.

Spotting the letter opener on your desk, you lurch across the room to grab it, holding it in front of you as you back away from the door. The knob continues to bang against the wood as you refuse to take eyes off of it. There’s sounds of men outside, loud and rambunctious, momentarily halting the grievances.

Until the knob moves again, slower this time, a light click that could be heard as it unlocks itself, opening into the low light of your quarters.

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door.

“Lieutenant,” you voice in recognition. “What’s going on?”

He eyes the letter opener that you hold defiantly in front of you from across the room, and it has you retracting your force slightly.

“Pirates, your Highness,” he breathes out. “We must get you to lower deck—”

“Where is the Admiral? The Captain?” you ask as you take a couple steps forward.

“They’re handling the situation, your High–”

An arm has come up behind the soldier that pulls him into a headlock, a swift pull to have him dragged away from your vision. You would’ve gasped if your voice hadn’t been caught in your throat, refusing to make itself known as fear brews in the pit of your stomach. Your hold on your makeshift weapon is tighter than ever before, yet you doubt how it’s going to help you as the culprit finally steps over something to appear in your doorframe.

His clothes are in a disarray; slashed, torn and covered in grime. There’s a deadly looking machete in one hand, the blood that coats it has you eyeing the trail that drips onto his hand and on the floor. His forearms are perched up on the doorframe as he inspects you, tongue to cheek as he stares.

Threatened as you feel, there was less hunger in his gaze as you had expected, more like he was trying to figure out who you were. He eyes your tiny letter opener you hold like a knife and lets out a little exhale you think might be a laugh. It has you gripping the handle impossibly tighter. The man moves his face into the hallway, to where you know the staircase to the main deck is.

“Hoshi!” he yells loudly. “How’s this for bait?”

Your back is pressed inexplicably against the wall, wanting to sink into the wooden boards as you attempt to gain your bearings amongst the nauseous bouts of mortification that surge through you. Your only exit is blocked.

No. You have one more option.

The sound of more men bounding down the hall has you praying there were more soldiers here, but the calm regard the man has for the approaching people has your heart sink to the depths of this very ocean itself.

More faces peer into the room, men with the same haphazard, grimey clothing complete with equally sinister weapons in their grasps. One of the men breaks out into the biggest grin as he lays his eyes on you. You nearly throw up.

For the first time in your life, you wish you’d listened to your father.

“Jun, you savvy motherfucker,” the grinning man explodes, slapping the man who found you on the back.

Another voice speaks from behind him, “Ships cleared, captain.”

“Perfect. Bring a spring upon ‘er. Get as far away from those cleans as you can, let them fend for themselves in a tiny boat for once.”

Captain. The grinning, stupid looking one is their captain.

He regards the rest of his crew as he finally steps through the threshold, waving them away as he enters your quarters.

It was taking everything out of you to not buckle your knees as you stood, every step he takes is turning your strength into dust. He keeps his eyes on you, eyes on your sorry excuse of a weapon. He registers the mix of fear and determination in your eyes.

He stops a few feet away from you, looking directly at you past the makeshift knife you hold.

He says nothing as he drops the knife in his own hand to the ground with a loud clang. He removes a pistol, a couple more knives, a grenade and a sword. Weapons drop to the floor one after the other, emerging from all over his body and clothes. All in a pile on the wooden floors. He puts his hands in the air.

“No weapons on me. I merely wish to talk.”

The look on his face is not ordinary, some strange combination of mock innocence and jest. You don’t answer him.

He continues, “You can keep your… scalpel… if you so wish.”

“What did you do to the soldiers?” you finally rasp out.

“They’re not dead, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yet?” you ask with a slight tremble to your voice.

“They’ve been shoved into a boat with a map and a compass to fend for themselves. I’m not entirely ruthless,” he adds with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “Admiral, were they calling him? You must be his wife.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, guess not. Daughter? Captain’s wife, Captain’s daughter?”

Your previously stagnant brain is now running a derby with all the thoughts galloping across your mind. He doesn’t know who you are. Yet, anyway.

He’s scanning the room now, nodding at the trinkets and trophies scattered across the place. “Can’t imagine giving a lieutenant’s anybody quarters like this.” He circles back on you, eyes sharp. “Who are you, darling?”

You don’t think you have anything that should give you away, but the way he starts pacing the room has your anxiety going through the wooden roof.

He has his back turned to you. You’re not sure if he’s confident or careless considering you could drive your weapon into his back and make a run for it. But then what? By the looks of it there’s an entire crew of pirates pacing the deck. Perhaps the soldiers haven’t gotten that far; they know you’re still on board, they know it’s their heads on a pike if they leave you here.

He’s reached your desk during your thinking, inspecting your stationary, picking at the bejewelled quills and paper weights as he mutters nonsense to himself.

“Oh!” he announces, a little too enthusiastic. “What’s this?”

He brandishes the loose leaf of paper, and you recognise the print on the back immediately. It was a letter from your father, the King.

“How on Earth did you read this, the writing is illegible.” He flips the paper over, double taking when he sees the royal seal on the back. He looks into the letter closer now.

You wait with baited breath.

“The kingdom needs their princess…your father…ah.”

Should you plunge the knife into him anyway? You almost do it, but stop when he begins to turn around to face you again. His eyebrows are raised, a slight hint of exasperation on his face when he begins to laugh a loud, loud cackle.

It’s mortifying, especially when you don’t understand what on earth was so funny to elicit a reaction like that. The man is downright hysterical. He wipes a lone tear from the corner of his eye as he drops the letter back onto the desk.

“W-what’s so funny?” you try to sound brave.

“It seems, miss princess, that we’ve gotten more than we bargained for,” he says, looking straight at you as he sobers up. “You’re the King’s daughter, now, are you? What are the odds the first ship I hop onto with a royal seal slapped on it, held the crown jewel of the kingdom in its gallows.”

And then he starts walking, towards you, for that matter. Imperative because you know for sure that this is how it all ends.

You know you still have your one last option, the option that is now pressed against your back as you shimmy to it with miniscule movements. The window is cool on your hand that rests on the glass, you know the lamp will be enough to break it, enough for you to push through and fall into the abyss of the dark, dark sea. He knows who you are now, and you’d rather drown than die at the hands of a pirate—or go through whatever it was that’s curling the minds of all the men on this ship.

He takes another step forward, hands on his hips. “He’s not going to like this, is he? His dear daughter in the hands of the Kingdom’s favourite degenerate captain.”

What?

He then adds in a whisper to himself mostly, “Or least favourite with all the wanted posters off the churches and brothels.”

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi.

The man who had found you had called him Hoshi. Hoshi the pirate. Hoshi the pirate that’s been giving the Kingdom and its court absolute hell for as long as you can remember.

The man that you are now trapped alone with on a ship is the most feared pirate the Kingdom has ever seen.

You don’t doubt your face has gone grey, feeling your breathing turn near erratic. “Oh God.”

He smiles wryly as the life is sucked out of your very soul.

This was bad. Very bad.

“Now, fear not, you will soon be returned to daddy dearest,” he places a mildly dramatic hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honour.”

He paces back to pluck the letter off the table, pocketing it. “All you need to do is relax and tell me a few things so we can part ways as soon—”

“No.” The word blurts out of your mouth before you can stop it, horrified at the thought of giving information to any pirate, let alone this one.

“No?” Hoshi looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He laughs a little incredulously, “Oh, I see, can’t tell all the delicate details to a scary ol’ pirate.”

He smiles a little bit, “Worry not, miss princess, we shall only need a few minor details. Just enough to have your father sprinting to get you out of here. We all win.”

He stares at you almost expectantly, and you wonder if you look as confused as you feel.

“Well, I’ll be bidding you goodnight now, I’m sure we’ve interrupted your beauty sleep enough. Rest assured we won’t be bothering you for the rest of the morning.”

Hoshi begins to make his way to the door, picking up his pile of weapons off the floor before wrenching the door open. He’s calm as ever, but your mind is in a disarray.

A ransom, but whatever for? Gold could’ve been retrieved by raiding any ship, and it sounded like he’d chosen to hop on a ship belonging to the navy. Come to think of it, as much of a nuisance this man has proved himself, you don’t remember a case where he’s directly meddled with the Kingdom. All of this can’t just be for gold.

Steeling yourself, you bet your odds against your voice and asked him, “What do you want from my father?”

You watch as he halts in his tracks, halfway through the door as he finally looks over his shoulder. The look on his face has you wanting to break open the window immediately and let the water flood in, once and for all as you take these bastards down with you.

“Your father has something of mine. And I intend to take it back,” he says, before finally slamming the door shut. You hear a shuffle and a thud, and you do not doubt that he’s locked you in.

Your knees give out almost immediately, dropping to the ground as you breathe in quick, shallow breaths. Trying to look past the dizziness, you try not to think about the last thing he’d said before he left, moreso the look on his face as he did.

The first rays of morning sun are beginning to shine through the windows, casting the beginnings of a glow in your quarters. You think of the supposed assurance he had given you, that they wouldn’t hurt you, that they intended to return you.

The thought leads to a faraway memory, yet one that’s tucked itself into a front corner of your mind, you can almost hear your father's voice as he says it; never trust a pirate.

You remain on the floor, and you remain wide awake.

THE SUN IS HIGH in the sky by the time you put your limbs to work.

The first hours after the pirate locked you in your quarters were spent trying to reign yourself to earth. You can’t be entirely sure your soul has come back to your body, but whatever little of it that has landed is whispering some very dangerous things.

The lamp remains, the ornate jewels glinting almost enticingly in the afternoon light. The flame inside it has long died, but you itch to give it another purpose. You don’t note the trembling of your hand as you reach for it, pushing yourself to your feet as you get a feel for the heavy hunk of glass and metal in your hands.

If there was a level of regard before, it disappears when you set eyes on the bright window and the creases of crystal blue water. With all your strength, you don’t think twice when the lamp makes hard contact, a loud thud erupting as a result, but no damage when you pull away.

You go again, harder this time, and only vaguely register the glass of the lamp that shatters into your hands. Gripping the metal bit tighter, you swing for the third time, pulling back for the strongest blow yet.

A hand wraps around your elbow and you’re yanked backwards, landing on the floor. There’s a kick at your hand that’s flown into the air, the one that holds the bludgeoned lamp. It goes flying across the room as you retract your hand into yourself.

You don’t register a thing as you’re suddenly being pulled back up to your feet. Face to face with the pirate captain, your soul finally clicking back into place.

“Didn’t think I scared you this bad.” He’s made a joke, but all you can see is his face that’s a mask of rage.

The initial instinct is to move away, pulling your elbow out of his grasp in an attempt to flee. You fail as he tightens his grip to a painful degree, hauling you towards the ajar door of the quarters.

It’s only then that you realise that there’s more people in the room.You note another big, burly man next to the window you just assaulted, inspecting it with another shorter man. You don’t get to note more as you’re pulled into the narrow hallway, begging the saints he doesn’t take the turn towards the lower decks. Instead you find he leads you upstairs to where the main deck is.

Walk the plank? Did navy ships have planks to walk on? Not that you’d mind too much, you were trying to drown yourself and this ship in any case. But then there’s a settle of dread in the pit of your stomach, realising death may be the most merciful thing this man could give you.

The pirate captain pushes you against a mast, one of his other minions rushing in with coils of rope on his shoulder. The sun beats down on the deck, not a gust of reprieve from the wind.

“Keep the ropes tight, she’s got less wit than I’d thought,” the pirate captain says with a grunt, huffing as he lets go of you. He takes a few steps away, hands at his hips, the image of vexation.

The person who ties the cords around your hands whispers slowly, “Stop moving.”

But you can’t, not when the panic is near the lip, not when all the possibilities are flashing gore filled images into your vision. It's scary to blink.

“Why won’t you let me die?” you ask to the back that’s turned.

He turns around, not even bothering hiding the exasperation that paints his face, mouth opening furiously before closing again. “Why won’t—Because you were trying to take us all with you!”

“Kill me!” you all but scream. “They won’t know till you’ve gotten what you want, I’d rather be dead than let you try whatever’s brewing in all your sick heads!”

He’s silent for a moment, noting your defiant gaze, your pull against the ropes, the heaving of your chest. Taking a few steps forward, Hoshi seems to be attempting to bring the boil in his blood to a low simmer, “Listen, princess. We’re pirates alright, but me and my crew, we keep to ourselves. If your daddy the king hadn’t decided to meddle and steal my fucking ship, you would’ve been home in your pretty palace, asleep in your bed of gold by now.”

The pirate captain’s face is closer than you’d ever be comfortable with, seething in a way that has you pressing further into the mast. “We may be degenerates but we keep our own morals, as twisted as your people heed them to be.”

When he finally pulls away, you take a breath and thank the air that simply exists, eyes downcast as you attempt to look braver than you feel.

“I’m not pushing you overboard. I’ve duped your people once, they’ll be more prepared next time. We need you alive while you’re in our hands.”

“How are you going to summon a ransom? You sent away your only messengers,” you ask, a sad attempt at a mock, but also because you wanted to know what his plan was.

“Your useless Admiral’s taken up that job.”

“By lifeboat? You’ve left them all for dead, how do you expect this genius plan to work?”

“They could’ve swam to shore if it came to it, we were close enough.”

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

“Do I need to gag you too?” he gives you one last irritated look before stalking off towards the lower deck. You’re left alone in the cooling afternoon heat, the sound of the sea keeping your ears company along with your own slowing breaths.

Everything he said has a good enough chance to be a complete and utter lie. Never trust a pirate. No weapon to cut yourself out of your impossibly tight binds, nothing to protect you or give you reassurance besides a pirate’s word—the worst pirate’s word.

Your battered thinking leads you straight through the setting of the sun, the orange glow of the sky shrouding the ship in the dreamiest backdrop while you live what you can only sum as a nightmare. Perhaps not, for you doubt your mind could ever conjure up a terror like this.

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all.

Having managed to wiggle your tied hands downwards, you had seated yourself with your head against the wood of the mast, staring into the translucent skies. So much freedom that taunts you in its illusion of proximity, yet so far still.

There’s murmurs below deck, the only semblance of life you’ve heard in the past few hours after the stupid pirate captain stormed off. It seems to be on the stairs, a heated argument.

“Obviously this wasn’t part of the plan, the chances were supposed to be zero to absolutely none. We landed with that scumbag’s successor, that’s just our piss luck and nothing more.”

“You wanted a woman for bait, this should work the same.”

“Hao, I wanted a woman for bait to trigger a lukewarm reaction, this princess could either doom us all or make our job a fat punch easier, and I’m not betting on the latter.”

There’s a pause.

“If only she’d cut it with the random hysterics and creepy-staring-at-the-sky we could actually get something useful out of her.”

“Pray that window holds up or any chance of a miracle is gone to the wind.”

It’s like you’ve woken up with the way the stupid idea begins to form in your head. You think of your father, the kind of man he is, the kind of ruler he is. All the ‘if’s are guiding you to a conclusion. One that gives you a fighting chance, one that may go beyond this massive navy ship and clear into the rest of your life—if you make it that far anyway.

Your father and his men would come, give this unhinged pirate what he desires so dearly, you know that for sure. But you also know it wouldn’t be for you, but for the crown that’s destined to fall upon your cursed head.

If it’s his ship that he wants…

The next time you see one of the pirate captain’s goons on the deck, you ask for an audience.

“DID YOUR STUPID FATHER drop you on your head as a baby?”

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull.

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?”

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.”

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?”

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully, “What?”

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone ever has.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest.

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit.

Is he about to cut your hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt.

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long.

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level.

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it? Carry out a fucking waltz with Jack Ketch?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?”

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.”

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard.

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope.

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.”

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion.

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.”

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed.

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused.

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour.

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it.

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

THE SKY IS A lighter sheen of blue, leaning towards the premature hours of the morning. He’d left you untied, and as you gaze into the duned waters in the minimal light, the urge to jump in and create a ripple that goes beyond just the water is less tempting than you’d thought. The prospect of having a dead father, and a dead king, was enough to snap you out of your hysteria despite it being a plot of your own devising.

You’ve been alone for a while, little indication that there was other life on this ship at all with the lack of human activity. There wasn’t much that you knew of sailing or ship handling, but leaving the deck unmanned for this long gave you the vague impression that you were on a vessel with poor practising pirates. If they’d thought you’d be equipped to handle any hiccups, they’d either find out the hard way, or whenever it was that you could find the wit to bring it up to the pirate captain and his strangely attached crew.

Something that sounds distinctly like boots are thudding gradually up to the main deck, the unmistakable blond of the pirate captain himself coming into view. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but the low thuds are sending your heart racing, panic overcoming your senses for a brief moment before you recalibrate. It’s only then that you realise it’s been more than 24 hours since the ship was hijacked. Somehow, you could have believed it was a lifetime.

He’s disturbingly nonchalant, hand at the sheathed hilt of the dagger at his hip, a casual glance around at the empty abyss of ocean and sky. When he reaches the far end of the deck, right above the prow, he stops.

“Are you going to push me off the rails?” you ask, half genuine, half trying to fill the silence as you face one another.

“No.” He said it plainly, the single word reply leaving you even more uncomfortable.

“Have you thought about what I said…with your crew?” you ask, hand coming up to grab the railing for support.

“I did.”

“Do I sense an objection?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat

“Not exactly,” he says. “We want to hear your master plan for this heist before we agree to anything.”

He’s asking for a plan, a plan that you do not have.

You aren’t sure how he figured it out, perhaps it was the slight darting of your eyes as you thought of a response, but he seemed to read you like a book. He snorts loudly, “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“You’ve done this before, you’d know better.”

“And if I led you astray?”

You look at him, this time right into his dark eyes, “Then you lead me astray.”

“Your contentment with death is wildly unsettling.” There’s a ghost of a sneer at his lip.

“I’d rather be lounging in the bottom of the ocean than live with a prospective future with my father.”

“So I’ve heard.”

There’s a huff that leaves you as you steel your voice. “I’m not trying to set you up if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I doubt you’d have that capability,” he says as he leans his forearms over the railing. You briefly consider pushing him over but think better of it.

As much as you wanted to be a sneaky link, you simply didn’t have that trait. You blame all the dependency your father’s fostered into you, ensuring that you couldn’t rule without his influence.

“Are you willing to brew a plan or not? I need to time my dip in the ocean accordingly,” you say, sounding almost disgruntled.

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

He’s made himself familiar with the ship, you soon realise, as he leads you right downstairs to the lower deck towards the war room. When he opens the door, the room is lit with lamps, casting a golden glow on the reddish interior, warmer than the rest of the ship.

“Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid,” he tells you as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin.

You only exhale in response as you turn away from the door, towards the large table in the centre. It’s slightly cluttered, studying the scrawled notes as you realise they’re all from the Admiral, his directions and plans of course littered across the table. Turning towards the map on the walls, you lift a finger to trace the lifted ridges of snow capped mountains, trailing towards the dipped shallows of the blue water.

It was an exact replica of the tactile map in the war room back home, and you’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. Not that you’d been away from home for too long, but the end result of what you're about to do, regardless of the outcome, would change your life forever.

You feel yourself breathing in the lingering scent of mildew, a strange comfort in the warm quarters.

There’s a creak at the door, and you quickly retract to find the pirate captain back at the door, walking in with a trail of men behind him. You recognise them by their faces, watching as they all take their places in the edges of the room. They look relaxed. You note the pirate captain taking his place behind the main drawing table.

“Your throne, miss princess.” He gestures exaggeratedly towards the lone cushioned chair across from him. You’re hyper aware of all the eyes that are trailed on you, and you feel almost embarrassed to take the only seat.

It only lasts for a moment. You walk up to the chair with what you hope exuded confidence and take your place across from the pirate captain. His men circle the edge of the room, and you count five other men.

He sighs, “I think introductions are in order.”

“Mingyu, Minghao,” he points to the two men that had inspected your window right after you tried breaking it open.

“Jun,” he gestures to the one who had found you in your quarters the night it all went wrong.

“Seungkwan and Chan,” you recognize the latter as the one who’d tied you to the mast at his captain’s command.

“They’ll be helping kill your dear father.”

It’s silent for a moment as you attempt to moisten your mouth. You’re reminded you haven’t eaten or drank for hours, not since one of them had come up with a tray of whatever they could find for you from the reserves.

“I know I may not be the most admissible person to trust, or vice versa—” You hear someone snort but choose to ignore it. “But I’m willing to make myself useful to you if it means you would help me too.”

“Would it not be easier to lock him up instead?” someone asks, and you turn to find Seungkwan asking the question from next to the tactile map.

“He has too many people indebted to him, too many that are too loyal for their own good. I cannot truly rule for as long as he’s alive and well.”

“And how do you expect his loyal court mongers to let you bid favour to the people who killed their king?” the pirate captain asks with a raised brow.

“Which is why it needs to look like an accident.”

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question—”

“We need to be transparent with each other if either of us wants to make it out relatively unscathed.”

He doesn’t look too happy but he answers anyway, “My ship and five hundred thousand for all our trouble. Two months from now at the Green Islands up north.”

The Green Islands were anything but green, the glaciers being near uninhabitable owed to the ruthless weather. It was smart enough, it’d be near impossible to bring as much violent power that far north, no matter how influential anyone is.

“Is five hundred thousand all I’m worth?” you feel the beginnings of a sneer rise up your mouth. You aren’t sure what prompted it but you don’t want to fight it either.

“Didn’t know I was bartering for a fucking princess’ case, did I?” he snaps. “Now tell us how you want us to commit the undetected homicide of a King.”

“We need to blow up his ship.” To your surprise (and maybe even a little horror), the pirate captain breaks into a slight grin. Neither do you miss other bits of his crew releasing a bit of a snicker.

There’s a flare of defiance within you, “Do you have any better ideas then?”

“No, no. Go on,” he says with his head hung. You’re surprised he has the character to shield his smile.

“He doesn’t frequent the seas but I’m almost sure he’d be present at the exchange.”

“Almost?” he questions.

You hesitate. The combined chance of needing the crown home and seeing to the downfall of his enemies would be enough warmth to send him to the greenlands himself. You were confident, but your father could also be unpredictable.

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.”

The pirate captain lifts his head, locking eyes with you. You try not to look as weak as you felt, as unsure as you felt, pooling all the remaining confidence into your face.

He swallows before looking away, addressing one of the crew members. “How big are we talking?”

Jun looks up like he’s only just begun to pay attention, fumbling over the revolver in his hands as it thuds to the ground like a theatrical mistake, “What?”

His captain sighs before replying, “Explosion. How big does it need to be to blow up a naval ship with a King on it?”

The man brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his nape. “If it’s anything like this one, we’re gonna need a lot of ammo.”

“Just enough to sink it,” you speak before you could decide not to. “Even better if they don’t realise it’s happening.”

He thinks for a moment. “We could plant it in the bilge somehow.”

“But how do we get on that ship? When they’re giving us a tour of the lower decks?” The man you recall as Seungkwan scoffs.

“Throw a grenade on board somehow?” you hear one of them suggest.

“Real subtle, Chan,” you hear another mock.

The war room is in shambles before you know it, loud voices talking over threats to slit throats and to shove people overboard. The room is humid and it feels as though the light from the oil lamps are fading. You close your eyes amidst the utter chaos, rubbing the heel of your palm on your temple in an attempt to soothe the throbbing vein.

“Enough!” The pirate captain has spoken and you have the urge to ask what took him so long.

Tranquility once again and you almost thank the man. Before anyone can say another word, nausea begins to build in your stomach.

It takes you a minute to realise the room was spinning and that you weren’t completely losing your mind. The ship begins to rock harder as the seconds tick by, everybody in the room seemingly still as they perceive the change.

“Batten down the hatches,” the pirate captain says to no one in particular.

Chan is the only one who moves to the door to leave before he’s interrupted.

“All of you. Those clouds weren’t looking too nice up there, we’ve got a storm on our hands.”

By everyone he surely did not mean you, because as the room rushes out and you hear the thuds of boots clamouring up to the main deck, you’re left alone with the captain. Yet again.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady, and you wonder how he’s able to remain balanced while on his feet. It isn’t long before your chair begins to slide as well, the legs croning as they slip on the hardwood. You spring up on instinct, hands coming to the bolted down drawing table to stabilise yourself.

The pirate captain seems unphased, moving the curtains on the far end to try to get a glimpse at where the water breaks. He steps like he knows exactly where the evermoving floor would be, barely glancing below to gauge his footing.

“Shouldn’t you be up there?” There’s effort in your voice, your grip on the table as hard as ever as the ship banks to a hard left. He barely grabs the wall in support.

“Huh? They can figure it out themselves, they’re big boys,” he grunts.

“Your big boys were at each other’s throats a moment ago,” you grunt back, stumbling at a particularly forceful lurch.

“If you weren’t so ill prepared they wouldn’t need to use their brains, that’s always dangerous,” he shoots back. He’s on the other end of the room, pushing the unbolted cabinet back in its place

“I gave you a job and it's up to you to see it done, I’m not—ah— I’m not supposed to be planning at all!”

“Are you?” He’s turned to look at you know, mouth hitched in a snarl as his forehead reflects a light sheen. “Because trying to murder a—”

“Trying to murder a King isn’t a normal task,” you finish for him in a hiss. “Yes, as you’ve reiterated a million times.”

“Great, so you know!” Sarcasm is a deadly look on him, you realise as he walks over from the cabinet to where you were in the middle of the room. The waves have given in, the rocking becoming significantly slower. “Now do you mind telling us about a plan that actually has better odds?”

Your white knuckles have relented, the hands that gripped the table coming loose as you stare back at the pirate in defiance. “I should just hand you over.”

“It’s sweet you think you’re in charge here,” the grit in his voice is evident. “This isn’t your turf anymore, miss princess.”

“You don’t trust me, and you don’t give me reason to trust you—ugh.”

The waves seemed to have decided she hadn’t had enough just yet, this particular lurch sending you hurtling backwards into the wall, back hitting the hardwood as the stable pirate himself loses his footing. You could almost believe you’d landed sideways with the gravity that’s lost its way beneath your feet.

The chair you were once sitting on is hurtling towards you with a vengeance, gaining momentum as you simply watch it approach like a wooden bullet. A boot clad foot kicks it to the other end and you realise the pirate captain’s gotten hold of his bearings before you have.

“What happened to being transparent with one another?” he huffs, breathless and wide eyed as he attempts to pull himself to his feet.

There’s another lurch that sends you both skidding towards the table, just short of grabbing on before you’re hurtled into the cabinet that had moved again, and now slams back into the wall with the weight of the sea and two humans with a bang!

“Fine. You give me your ammo to blow up the bilge, let me on the ship with my dear father and one of you scoops in and saves me before I drown with him,” you yell over the sounds of clanging and banging of everything on this cursed ship, and the whooshing and thunders of the skies, winds and water. “And if I riddled the chances of you letting me drown with my father? Where does that leave me?”

“On the bottom of the seabed,” he deadpans. “But that also leaves me without my freedom.”

You find the opportunity to look at him for a moment, and he’s looking at you too. He looks away towards the door, already making moves to walk out and join his crew above deck. The conversation was over, and it was evident in your lack of reply.

Mother nature, however, sends another one in as a surprise and you're both sent flying to the other end of the ship, yet again.

There’s a cushion to your blow this time as you find yourself landing right into the pirate captain’s chest, hand above his heart in your instinct to save yourself any more bruises. Between your bickering and the staggering of the ship, his shirt had flown open nearly down to his navel.

Your eyes barely register the nasty scar across his left pec, instead moving upwards to lock eyes with him. It’s insanity, how you instinctively dart your eyes towards his half open mouth.

“If you wanted me that bad, miss princess, you could’ve just asked.”

Whatever airborne drug that’d been willy nillying in your noggin seems to spin into a rage as his words register a moment too late. Clenched jaw and a vice grip on his shirt, you spit back.

“I don’t ask for things. They come to me.”

There’s a crash above you and you realise the oil lamp that was suspended above has shattered, raining glass over your forms.

Expect you don’t feel it, because he’s ducked over you and suspended his arms in the air to catch the crystalline.

Before you can decide whether it was instinct or not, you hear a yell at the door.

“Captain! One of the—oh.”

A barely balancing Mingyu, is staring into the now dimly lit war room, his captain and their supposed prisoner pressed against one another in a dark corner of the room.

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards.

“Get back up,” he snarls, already pushing past you to stalk towards the door. He actually makes it this time, shoving Mingyu into the hall towards the stairs.

Not as much as a glance back before he slams the door shut, leaving you in the tattered war room alone, shards of glass at your feet.

THE STORM SEEMS TO have done its damage as it calmed itself for the rest of the morning and well into the day.

One of them had come down and escorted you to your quarters, Chan telling you that you could keep it while the rest of them adjusted in the other cots and quarters aboard. Changing out of your ragged, days old clothes felt luxurious, the familiar scent of your quarters putting your tense shoulders at ease; or at least a semblance of such.

Neither you nor the captain have attempted to speak to each other after the incident in the war room. Having berated yourself for letting your guard down enough, you chalked it up to the lack of food and sleep and put the matter to rest in some deeply buried chest in your head.

For now you board up the door of your cabin (because you haven’t completely lost it), and burrow under the covers for some much needed shut eye.

You aren’t sure how long the universe lets you rest, because unless you’ve slept all the way to the Green Islands the banging on the door seems incessant enough to warrant an arrest of its own. The sleep is slow to leave, and it’s hard enough to push an entire drawer against a door, the bleariness paired with whoever the fuck was outside the door isn’t making it easier to push it away from the entrance either.

By the time you’ve wrenched the door open, you’re thoroughly annoyed, and met with a very alarmed Seungkwan.

“Oh thank goodness, I was about to try opening it,” he says, looking genuinely relieved. “I thought you might’ve….anyway.”

“You weren’t trying to break in before?” you ask.

He only thrusts a tray of rations and water towards you, “Captain said to give this to you.”

Accepting the tray, you try to balance it in one hand with furrowed brows, “Oh.”

“Um. That’s it, sorry for waking you up.” He makes a move like he’s about to turn around and leave but falters. “If…if you need anything a bunch of us are on the main deck.”

And then he’s gone.

You take it as your cue to shut the door, kicking one of the heftier pieces of furniture against it before moving back inside.

When you peer up your tiny window, it’s late afternoon and the beginnings of orange on the surface tell you the sun is beginning to set. You decide it was a good enough amount of sleep. Setting the tray down on the smaller than usual desk, you find that these pirates do not have a knack for subtlety. Many of your letters and papers are haphazardly stacked and shoved into one corner of the table, very obviously sifted through.

Not that you care too much, there was nothing awfully important that you wouldn't have told them yourself. Ripping off a piece of bread from the tray, you take pleasure in chewing as loudly and as open mouthed as you wished, plucking the parchment at the top of the pile to study.

It’s another one signed by your father, not a question of your wellbeing in sight as he scrawls ink on paper all the incorrect things you did in the Southerner’s banquet last month. If anything, you were glad the stupid Admiral was away from your presence, his incessant habit of reporting your every breath and turn to your father was becoming too much to handle.

This was one of his tamer letters, less insults attached to his criticisms but a pain to read anyway. You don’t brush away the crumbs that fall onto the parchment.

There is not a diplomatic bone in your body. Perhaps move on from drinks and dessert and into more important territories besides the Duke’s son. Our kingdom needs a ruler that’s strong, not one that forgets where she is after a sip of brandy!

If you squint hard enough, it almost reads as a parent scolding a child for a spill, like regardless of what you did, he might just love you the same.

You wonder how good of a mood he was in when he wrote this.

Sifting through the rest of the papers you take a mental note of every reason he’s given you to believe that you’d be a hopeless ruler, a few years ago you even questioned why he kept you around before realising his contradicting intentions. As you read, letter by letter, you think of reasons you know are going to make you a better ruler, better than him and better than his stupid court of old men.

These pirates are a blessing, you think, and you aren’t about to let this chance from the universe drown in these waters.

HOSHI ISN'T IN TROUBLE. No, he isn’t. On his butt on the sleek floorboards of the ship, his own golden dagger glinting in the sunlight as it's held in a threatening hold, except it isn’t in his hands.

It’s pointed right into his jugular vein, held by some grimy sailor who considers himself something akin to a pirate. Perhaps the stench this sorry excuse of a crew carries around may be their idea of a criteria, but as Hoshi remains inches away from death, all he can think about is the atrocious fingers around his dagger, and all the scrubbing he’s going to be doing after this is all over.

Mingyu had warned him, told him to take down the flag of the navy from the mast, the royal seal in the smack middle of the ginormous thing. He brushed it off. He wasn’t quite sure if he was tipsy, hungry or just plain exhausted when he made that decision, because he’d forgotten just how stupid some of these simpleton sailors could get.

They were taken by surprise, their only weapons mops and buckets of soapy water as they were ambushed by some overlooked wherry that had suddenly thrown hooks over their railing and climbed up like uninvited sewer rats.

In the initial confusion, interrupted mid-chorus of some pretty siren and her pirate prince, the first few intruders had simply crumpled over onto the slippery deck, a few slipping overboard completely from the suds and water on the wood. His crew, and Hoshi himself, could only stand and watch as the newcomers sabotaged themselves for a few incredulous moments before they gained their bearings.

Chan and Seungkwan swang their mops right into the necks of a couple, sending them into the ocean without waiting for a splash.

Hoshi slips out his dagger with practised ease, swinging the butt of the hilt over the head of another ambushing intruder, right on the head as he crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. He kicks him over for an indication of where he came from. No ink that shows an alliance, no brooch or jewels with a crest.

New guys, ones that were clearly still learning the ropes.

Hoshi’s crew had better senses than required for him to yell out orders, and it only took a few more disgruntled minutes to disable the remaining extra men aboard.

“Where the fuck did these guys come from?” he asks no one in particular, mostly just annoyed that they were disturbed.

Minghao, who’s peeking over the railing replies, “It’s a tiny thing. They either lost their actual boat or didn’t have one at all.”

He vaguely registers him making a jerking arm movement over the exterior before he hears a wail and a splash. “Disgusting.” Minghao holds his hands away from his body like he didn’t want it anymore.

Hoshi’s mistake was keeping his guard down, because before anyone could warn him, the dagger that he held loosely against his hip had slipped out his palm. The next thing he knows, his neck is in some grimy sleeve’s grip, and the point of his dagger is lodged into his own throat. He holds his breath, afraid he might pass out completely from the stench alone.

“Not a move.” He sounds like a boy more than anything, but his grip indicates a harsher life. “Everybody into that fishing boat. I’ll throw this one in when you’re done.”

He sounds unstable, but that only makes him more dangerous. Hoshi can’t try to wiggle his way out of this one, one wrong move and it’s the end. His crew can’t do anything as they stand with broken mops and empty buckets as their weapons.

It was stupid of him to even allow himself to be cornered like this, not when he’s weaselled his way out of more dangerous situations with more ease than this.

His crew looks at him, and he can only close his eyes in encouragement. He watches as Jun steps over one of the defeated bodies to reach the hooks that’ve lodged into the railing. His movements are slow, and he can tell he notices the unhinged nature of this boy that he doubts is barely over 17.

Chan follows, then Seungkwan as Jun double checks the integrity of the ropes. He’s stalling.

“Hurry!” It was supposed to come out as a threat, but it sounded more like a plea from the boy.

And then Jun stops completely, his eyes trained on Hoshi. His eyes are wide, his grip on the rope so tight he can see the whites of his knuckles from the other side of the ship.

No, he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking behind him. Before he can register, there’s a loud bang of a gunshot, and Hoshi feels the body of his captor slump against his back, his dagger dropping to the ground with an ominous clang. He falls with him, turning over to push the dead weight of the body off of him.

There’s smoke in the air when Hoshi looks back and it takes him a moment to realise who just basically saved his life.

You stand in your nightgown, shawl over your shoulders, and a revolver, Jun’s revolver, clenched tightly in both hands. It remains frozen in the air, hovering as he takes in your face. Eyes wide, mouth open slightly, the colour drained from your face.

Hoshi scrambles to get up as the rest of the crew swarm both him and you. He grabs his dagger before anything else, looking back to see a bullet lodged in the back of his captor’s skull, blood pooling the deck.

He looks back at you shoving the revolver back into Jun’s hands eagerly, like you didn’t want to feel the warmth of the metal any more than you wanted to make that shot.

He looks back at the cooling body, and then back at you, an undeniable warmth overcoming his chest.

You just saved his life.

“Are you alright?” he hears Chan ask you. You nod slowly, and then quickly.

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks.

“Uh, in one of the quarters. Downstairs. I went down because I thought it’d be safer, you were handling it and I didn’t want to get in the way. But then…all your weapons were there.”

Your voice sounds airy, like you were in a daze. Hoshi comes to the stark realisation that this may have been your first time with a weapon, and then even more horrifying, your first kill.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it was getting out of hand and—”

“It’s alright,” Seungkwan says. He watches as you let him lead you back down the stairs below decks.

It was like the shock turned you into a different person, complacent, less defiant. Seungkwan clearly had more of an emotional range, because it certainly took Hoshi too long to realise you might be on the edge of panic.

Hoshi doesn’t say a word as you disappear, the smell of gunpowder from the singular shot wafting through the deck. He doesn’t realise he’s staring into space until Mingyu interrupts.

“Should we—”

“Throw them overboard,” Hoshi says, voice flat.

“But, this one seems like he’ll come around. We could question him and drop him off wherever next—”

“He’s a shit seaman, if even a pirate, he’s got what came for him. Throw. Him. Overboard.” Hoshi is out of breath, yet grits the words out through clenched teeth. “All of them.”

Hoshi slips his dagger back into its sheath at his hip. All he can think about is your blown pupils and you in your nightgown. All he can think about is how they were almost bested by a child. All he can think about is how you had to make that final shot to save his ass, that he couldn’t do it himself.

Mingyu senses his mood and asks no more questions, simply pushing the remaining bodies out into the water. He vaguely registers Minghao sending the men a prayer into the sea. Mingyu’s already trying to get the stupid naval flag off the mast, stripping off his jacket and disposing of it at the base to start climbing.

Chan pushes a clean rag into his chest, and he looks down to receive it and notes a tinge of blood at his collar. Right, he was bleeding.

They go back to cleaning, except it’s a lot more silent.

Jun walks back up to help, but this time he has both of his clean, black revolvers strapped at his hip.

THERE WERE FEWER PEOPLE in the war room this time around, the captain sits beside Mingyu, Jun and Minghao as they attempt to sketch out a crude rendition of your discussion. The pirate captain does nothing but use his dagger to pick under his nails, barely speaking as he listens in on the conversation.

Not that you cared, you and the rest of his crew seemed to get along better than you did with the captain anyway. Saving the man’s life seemed to hold no weight to him, not that you expected it but a ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.

“Keep the grenade til the last minute if it makes you feel better, so you’ll know I’m not trying to sink the wrong ship,” you sigh as you clarify. Minghao doesn’t reply as he scribbles the details. Jun rolls his eyes at his meticulous nature.

“We need to port in the next couple days if I’m gonna finish this grenade in time,” he says, looking at his captain pointedly.

“We can stop at Port Ash,” Hoshi says.

Port Ash was no man’s land, which also meant it was every man’s land.

Being mostly occupied by pirates and other thieves and criminals it was considered dangerous territory for anyone who didn’t speak in lies, deceit and fists. This crew would fit right in, but you worry for yourself.

“That’s not gonna be till a week and a half,” Mingyu interjects.

Jun frowns as he looks at Mingyu and then back at his captain, “I can’t wait that long.”

“We’ll pick up what we can at Hasry when we stop for rations,” Hoshi replies.

“But—”

“Deal with it. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Jun looks like he wants to say something, and Mingyu has the good sense to interject again to ask more questions about the plan.

“How much manpower do you think the king’ll have?” he asks.

You sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “I have no idea. Could be five, could be fifty.”

“Not even an inkling?”

“Considering how he wants the lot of you gone, it’s probably on the larger side. But…” you pause.

“But?”

“He’s smart. Always seemingly one step ahead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he catches us blind.”

“I know enough about that,” Hoshi snorts. There’s a glint in his eye that suggests something, but you don’t press.

“I was wondering…we should probably change course even if it takes us longer. My father might intercept—”

“Did that. Didn’t take the obvious alternative route either,” Mingyu replies, and you note that he looks proud of himself. “We can take our time too, the ransom note suggested we took the way past Scarsfield.”

“We should be careful of other boats anyway,” you say, gulping down a lump in your throat before continuing. “Those other sailors could’ve been my father’s men too, for all we know.”

“They were on a smaller boat too,” Hoshi adds, he looks like he’s making connections in his brain. “What’re the odds they were dropped farther back into a smaller boat?”

There’s a pause as you absorb what he’s implying. “Are you saying they’re on our tail?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “He’s done it before. It was a sorry attempt then and it was a sorry attempt now.”

“How did you shake him off last time?”

The panic in your chest is barely there, but as you register the possibility, you find yourself breathing increasingly heavy.

“Circling farther out before going the opposite way so we wouldn’t cross paths.” He shakes his head. “But we can’t do that now, not when we can’t afford detouring. The port stops are as late as I’m willing to go.”

“What if we skip Hasry? It’s our more obvious stop, we’ll just stop at Ash later,” Minghao suggests.

“We’ll starve, we’ve got no food,” Hoshi gruffs.

“Portwater?”

“Too far.”

It’s silent yet again as everyone racks their brains. You feel very useless all of a sudden, you didn’t know the names of harbours or ports this far out.

“We’ll just port at Hasry and be extra careful, there’s nothing we can do.” Hoshi sighs at his own ultimatum.

He gets up and walks around the table to the door, “I’ll update the others.”

You glance as he walks past you, his figure leaving a gust of wind in your face. He smelled nice, which was saying something considering the state some pirates are known to be in. As he brushes past, your gaze is met with the other side of the war room, an empty oil lamp bracket on the wall.

The memory of the storm floods your mind, and suddenly your cheeks are burning. Snapping your head back, you're thankful they’re all absorbed in the papers and plans on the table, oblivious to the memory that’s flashed before your eyes. Mingyu was the one who saw you in your compromising position, and you didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he’d do something as dumb as dish out his captain’s ‘affairs’.

You file out the room with them. They don’t escort you to your rooms, make sure you stay in one place, restrict your wandering anymore. Perhaps they’d realised you weren’t actively attempting to sink the ship anymore, or that if you jumped off the edge it didn’t matter to them that much, but you appreciated the space anyway.

Briefly catching Seungkwan filling Mingyu in on the past couple hours they’d been below deck, you turn over to catch his eye. He waves, and you wave back. You don’t realise what you did till it already happened, noting the smile on his face as he did it. You choose to move past it and find the captain.

There was something you wanted from him.

There’s no trace of him on the main deck, eyes scanning the area to no avail. A movement from above catches your peripheral attention, eyes squinting as you crane your neck up to look. Hoshi has leaned his back against the railing of the crow’s nest, arms crossed, visible hand occupied with a brass telescope that glints in the sunlight.

He isn’t using it though, merely gazing at the horizon with furrowed brows. As though he could see better without the device in his hand. In the few minutes that you’re looking at him, you notice the muraled, multicoloured shirt that blows with the wind, a kaleidoscope of beiges, greens and reds. The crop of his blonde hair blends in with the clear blue-white sky.

Briefly wondering how he’s managing the impossible heat, a hand coming over your own eyes as a visor, you simply look back down. Seungkwan is next to you. You aren’t quite sure how he got there, but he stands next to you, hands on his hips, a pleasant expression on his face.

“Is there anything you want when we dock? We’re trying to make a list,” he says. Somehow, the prospect of pirates making lists boggled you a little. It was a little jarring, not quite sure why he asked a captive anyway.

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

“I don’t think so, no,” you reply and then juggle whether you should push it with another measly formality. “Thank you for asking.”

“That was your first kill, wasn’t it?”

“What?” You knew what he was talking about, but you weren’t expecting him to bring it up in the moment when he’s asking you about restocking supplies. And especially not with a smile on his face.

“That day, when you used Jun’s revolver to shoot the lad.”

A kid. He was a child.

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

“What made you do it?” he asks, remaining as nonchalant as ever.

“I—I don’t know, it looked like there wasn’t another option,” you say, not quite sure of yourself either.

Why did you shoot him? You’d never laid hands on a gun before, your father forced you into the category of archery and crossbows, not that you were very good at them either but it was also because you simply wanted to spite your father by being plain bad. It worked, because it only took a year and a half and an arrow straight into his study window to retire from the sport entirely.

Even then, your targets had been apples, barrels and tree trunks. Never a person.

You’d heard of what people tended to do in pressuring situations, and with the way the aftermath unfolded, it didn’t seem like you made the wrong decision to pick up that revolver anyway.

But the feeling lingers, the same one that you saw as you gazed into the back of the boy that held the captain of this ship hostage. It felt wrong. Like watching the pirate captain cornered was a picture you couldn’t quite make sense of in your head.

So you pulled the trigger.

“In any case, we’re glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. “That’s a lot for a pirate to say.”

“I know.”

BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi it’s already the next day, and you’re only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry.

It’s an anxious ordeal, the crow’s nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway.

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

He was piling coiled ropes when you’d said it, pushing the heap to the side, sweating through his clothes. There was a flash of confusion on his face as he registered you.

“Why? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?” he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. He’s too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly.

You ignore the way his previously loose shirt now sticks to him, ignore the way the droplets land on your boots when he shakes his sleeve.

“We’ve discussed what we might be up against, I don’t want to be useless when the time comes.”

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

“Anyone can shoot a gun,” you say, getting the sudden urge to fidget with the front of your shirt. You try to make your voice sound as declarative as possible. “I want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.”

He doesn’t say anything as you look down, fiddling with the tassels on your shirt. Your excuse was the sun and the way it was beating down on the deck this afternoon, getting tired of squinting to simply look straight. When the silence prolongs you look up to push further, juggling with bringing up the fact that you saved his life and that, as Seungkwan very graciously told you, he owes you.

The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back.

The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water that’s somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldn’t make out.

He wrings it as you can only watch, mouth gaping like a fish. Hanging it over one of the suspended ropes to dry, he mutters as he walks to the lower decks.

“Fine,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ll get you a knife at Hasry.”

Hasry. Right.

The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. There’s not much to see but fishermen both returning and leaving for another week's worth of fish supply. Minghao manages to pay and convince the harbourmaster that they were merchants on their way back to the Kingdom, stopping for supplies. The naval make of the ship helped, and then the crew pulled lines and ropes secured from masts in ways you couldn’t quite decipher.

You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed you’d be joining them.

Hoshi deemed it safer, keeping the rest of the crew on board while he, along with you and Seungkwan, ventured into the village to get what was needed and leave before the sun fully set. If they really were being followed, the ship was going to be the first thing they seized.

Pulling the grey shawl further up your head, you attempt to look as blended as you could, Chan pressing down your shoulders to force you into a slouch.

“Stop walking like you're important,” he had said.

“I’m a princess,” you snapped back, but he wasn’t listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebody’s attention.

The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that you’d run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than you’d expected, the faint scent of baked goods in the air mixed with, onion soup, was it? In any case you were glad you were past the fish market, the yelling and the stench nearly sending you to the pavement, gagging.

When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall that’s selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop.

You can only observe from afar, instructed to not interact with anyone while he was gone. Hoshi was gone to get food supplies, but returned empty handed. Systems were in place, that the crates would be on their way to the “big naval ship” at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.

“They said there was a blacksmith up this alley” Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. “We can get your knife there.”

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused.

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

“Don’t!” Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows.

“It’s fine, they’re too far,” Hoshi says. “Let’s get this over with.”

You do find a blacksmith, an older man with a greying beard and bloodshot eyes that presents Hoshi and Chan with an array of knives and daggers. Either they were able to give an excuse, or he gave no mind to the third woman that trailed behind, the blacksmith continued to deal with the two men as they haggle over prices.

There’s another seller a ways away, and she’s laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. It’s a woman, not much older than you were, unravelling a long string of leather cord. She cuts it, strings a charm through and seals the frayed end with a candle flame that burns at her side.

The curtain she’s laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you can’t make out any of it from where you stand.

Glancing behind you, the men are still occupied with their bartering, seemingly forgetting of your presence. Taking a step back, you pretend to skim through the neighbouring stalls, glancing breezily at woven baskets, layers of folded fabric and towers of painted ceramic cups.

You stop before the laid out array of more necklaces and earrings, scanning the ground. The vendor looks up and gives you a big, crooked toothed smile, urging you to come forward, to take a look at what she has to offer.

Something does catch your eye, and you immediately crouch down to see it better. Picking up the necklace from the charm, you let the gold and red rest on your fingers as you study the make.

“That one’s new,” the woman says. “Practical too.”

The small brass letter opener that’s looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size.

“It’s quite popular among the busy merchants,” the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. “Easier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers and—and in their cabinets.”

She lets out a laugh, “Quite pretty too.”

You stare at it for a moment, “How much?”

“Ten coin.”

You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again.

“I’ll do seven!”

You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt you’d be recognized just by the sound of your voice.

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp.

“How about that pretty thing on your finger then?” she asks.

The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your father’s court a few years ago. You stare at the band, worth boatloads more than what this woman in an alley was offering you.

But you find yourself moments later, middle finger empty, and pocket lined with the long leather necklace with the miniature letter opener charm.

By the time you return to the blacksmith’s shop front, Chan is handing the man his coin as Hoshi holds an object sheathed in fabric. They turn around just soon enough to make it seem like you never left.

“Why are you standing so far away?” Chan asks. “Come closer.”

You listen, moving closer to the both of them as they get ready to make the trek back to the docks where the ship waits.

“The crates have probably been loaded too,” Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume he’s pocketed the knife somewhere. “Let’s hurry and leave before—”

“Princess?”

It was your mistake that you turned around to acknowledge the title, something you realise as soon as you register the man that spoke to you.

Henley was a stout man, dressed even now in the finest suit of a berry colour, hair white as a ghost. There was no reason for a merchant so rich he had ties with the royal family to be wandering in a harbour market, but he also had every reason to be here.

If it was the recognition in your eyes, or the fact that they were just being smart, you feel one of the pirates wrap their fingers around your upper arm and pull you to walk away from the alley.

“Princess!” Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you aren’t running yet.

Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard it’s deafening any other sound in your ears, you still don’t know which one has a hold of you, but you let them guide you into a speed walk as you exit the narrow alleys of the main market.

The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. There’s nothing in your mind other than Clarence Henley and his rich suit, his gold pocket watch, his trimmed, white hair. His face that you only ever saw within palace walls, always accompanied by your father.

There’s a good chance you’re shaking, because you can feel your body rejecting it with the pain in your palms that you can only consider to be your own nails pressing into your hand.

The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. It’s only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and you’re suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.

It’s immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. You’re led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall.

“Are you alright?”

Snapping your head up, you’re met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze.

“Oh, erm.” Your voice sounds…not like your own.

“It’s okay, breathe.” It helps, because it really did feel like you’d forgotten to breathe.

“We’re leaving in just a few, everything’s been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, don’t worry.”

Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas.

The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless.

When you’ve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean.

“Captain said they couldn’t run because it just would’ve been more suspicious,” Seungkwan informs you as you nod. “Did you…did you recognise him? The man at the market.”

The thoughts come flooding back, the colour of his suit, the jarring nature of a man of such wealth standing in a rundown port market.

“He’s a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my father’s. If he even has any friends.”

You pause as you think about the near blackout you’d had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality.

“I think…” you trail off. “I think I just felt like it was the end. I finally had an opportunity to get rid of that tyrant and seeing something that was from home, felt…it felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.”

Seungkwan doesn’t say a word as you digest your own words, accepting your own fear that had rendered you useless in the time it probably mattered most.

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer.

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

At the door stands Hoshi, a stern expression on his face as he looks directly at you on the bed. In his hands, the same fabric covered knife he acquired at the market.

You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known.

“He’s right,” Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. “Blades have a way of calming you in any case.”

You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwan’s sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshi’s own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to.

Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, “Can we start now?”

He smirks.

ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air.

“Your opponent’s baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,” he comments, continuously unhelpful. “Swing faster.”

It’s nighttime, nothing but a few oil lamps on the floor of the deck keeping you and Hoshi in the light. Your shoulder burns, your forearms are liquid, and your non-existent opponent remains forever stronger than you.

“I’m done,” you huff, thoroughly spent. Crumbling to the floor, you bring your non-dominant hand up to your aching shoulder in an attempt to massage it.

It’s been a while, the moon high up in the sky when you finally decide to quit it for the night. He lets you go without a fight, and you doubt you’d have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway.

The following day, he’s tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that you’re finally swinging at something tangible; him.

He leaves himself open, an invitation to strike wherever you want. You feign for his shoulder, but he sees you coming from a mile away, already deflecting your flattened blade that comes for his thigh.

“Don’t look where you want to strike, you’re giving yourself away.”

Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. He’s immediately cocking a brow, telling you to come at him again. You go for his middle, slashing your knife in an arc as he simply deflects.

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts.

Coming down with your knife again, he blocks you but this time with his forearm, pushing you back by the wrists. It was a battle of strength, as he forces your wrists down. He was stronger than you, and there was no way you could push away, so you dispel your own force. He stumbles from the sudden forward force, and you pull away to take a swing from above.

He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when you’re ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand.

There’s a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away.

There’s an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You don’t get to say anything because he beats you to it.

“Deep enough,” he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. “Keep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.”

Oh.

“Alright,” he says again, moving back into position.

“Are you gonna wrap that?” you ask, referring to the bloody hand.

“It’s fine, I’ve fought with worse,” he says.

You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck.

“You’re getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourself—JESUS!”

You’ve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasn’t expecting it, still talking over your glances at his palm. He had his guard down, and you took the chance. He ducks on instinct, but it could’ve been another scar for him to remember if you’d made it.

You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.

“Nice try,” he says. “Really nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.”

“I lost my footing,” you defend, but even you knew that wasn’t an excuse.

“And I just stabbed you in the back. And now I’ll have to present your corpse to your father and hope he’ll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.”

The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right.

“You’d just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,” you say. “You’re a slippery thing.”

He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. It’s a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. There’s a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands.

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

You can only roll your eyes as a scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You simply turn around, settling to the floor, going back to massaging your still aching shoulder. That last blow only made it worse.

“I don’t regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.”

You remain silent.

“Come on,” he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. He’s washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

“Because I don’t ever do things I’d regret.”

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

“Right-O,” he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.

“Funny,” you answer. “Because I dont think I’ve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.”

He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.

“You’ve looked into my eyes?”

The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face might’ve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck.

“I’ll send Jun up, practise with him.”

You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form.

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass.

But you don’t, mostly because he’d probably manage to deflect that too. So you resort to sitting cross legged on the deck, staring at your dagger while waiting for Jun to meet you upstairs.

Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things you’d already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. It’s quite pretty, you’ll have to admit. It’s plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. You’d gotten used to the handle and how it fit in your palm, Hoshi assured you that the more you used it, the more the hilt would mould into your grip.

Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck.

“Should’ve picked a plain old gun,” he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. “Job’s done and you don’t need to get within ten feet.”

“Don’t have to reload a knife, do I?” you comment, taking the first swing.

Jun may have an affinity for guns and explosives, but his handling with a knife was still nothing below an expert level. He pushes your arm off before spending you into a ballroom spin, flatting his blade at your collarbone.

That could’ve been your throat.

“No, but by now I could’ve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,” he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again.

That could’ve been your throat.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK PASSES with your days and nights muddled into a strange mixture of swinging knives and taking breaks slumped against the deck of the ship, unmoving.

It’s a particularly hot day, the giant glowing orb beating down on the deck with no mercy. Not that it stops you, because the sun remains unwavering, high in the sky, and you remain unwavering in your wide legged stances as you lunge for Chan again.

Chan’s entire being glistens in the afternoon light, the beads of sweat that he wipes off his forehead only seem to reappear every couple minutes. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, taking long breaths through his teeth amidst the difficult, humid air.

You don’t doubt you look the same, one hand in your hair suggesting you just took a bath in your own sweat. But Chan seems accustomed to the heat, and while you weren’t, you couldn’t deny your growing comfortability with it all.

It’d been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. You’re determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what you’ve been doing for the past week or so.

There’s a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing.

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

It’s all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. You’re succeeding, pushing the man further and further back.

“You’re getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,” Chan seethes through his teeth.

“I’m trying,” you grunt through the effort.

You’re set back for a couple minutes before you go back to pushing. Your lungs burn, your entire side is numb from exertion, but you give more than your body is made for, and you succeed—kind of.

Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute you’ve got eyes on Chan’s hands and his blade, and the next he’s gone. There’s a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what you’ve done.

You just pushed Chan overboard.

You scream before you can help it, dropping your knife with a loud, resonating clang. Pushing against the rails, you peer down to find a giant ripple on the surface of the ocean, whipping your head around to the stairs leading below deck to find Mingyu and Hoshi bounding upstairs.

“What? Where’s Chan, he was supposed to be with you,” Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck.

Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know.

By the time Chan’s pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, you’ve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle.

With the way the two men had merely sighed and threw the ladder over the exterior of the ship, you concluded that this must happen enough for them to be beyond the point of concern. It only adds to it when you see Mingyu nudge Chan’s unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense.

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

He’s sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position.

“It’s fine, happens.” He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well.

“Now, Chan,” Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. “What’s the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?”

Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, “Be aware of your surrounding—ARGH.”

Hoshi pushed him into the water.

You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chan’s head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean.

Just as you’re about to say something to Hoshi, he’s stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice.

“One time was a mistake, twice is a problem!”

To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. He’s also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours.

The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding you’ve done enough damage to your body, you announce that you’d be retiring for the day.

“Thank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, I’ve been hearing clanging in my sleep,” Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck.

In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat.

Grabbing a clean washcloth, you fill a bucket of freshwater from one of the barrels on deck and lug it into your quarters. The soaked washcloth does wonders for your overheated body, feeling enormously better after a change of clothes.

Your scalp, however, remains itchy and burning, so you decide to go back up to the main deck, hoping to manoeuvre a hair wash situation without needing to mop the floors of your quarters.

Refilling the bucket of freshwater, you set it down before scanning the empty deck for another spare bucket. You try not to scoff at the unwavering determination of the pirate crew to keep the deck unoccupied for such long increments, that last altercation teaching them absolutely nothing. You wonder how they’ve managed to survive for so long like this.

Shaking the thought, you use the spare bucket as a way to deposit your waste water as you pour cups of clean water over your aching scalp. The feeling does wonders for you, letting the water wash away weeks worth of grime, sweat and stress.

You’re almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones you’d packed for yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you rub them into your scalp. You don't expect the clench that seizes your chest, but you falter when it happens anyway.

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it.

It smells like the palace, like the incense your ladies in waiting always burned, the stench of citrus having made its way into your bones from the years of exposure to the scent. It’s too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes.

The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt hitting your nose. You’re more aggressive when you dunk your cup into the bucket this time, too aggressive as you feel the half full bucket tip over and spill water all over the deck as you cause yet another accident.

Cursing loudly, you try to blink away the suds from your eyes, soap still in your hair as you try to figure out how to get another bucket of water without ruining your fresh change of clothes, mentally kicking yourself at not thinking this through.

“You realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?”

Wet hair still in your hands, you attempt to peer up at the voice, only to find Hoshi standing above you, arms crossed over his chest with a funny expression on his face. Huffing, you grumble out in response, “Can you just get me a fresh bucket?”

“Hm, I don’t know, can I?” He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun.

Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding you’d figure it out yourself if this dumb pirate was choosing to be of no help. But before you could latch your fingers on the handle, the bucket’s snatched away.

At first you think he’s being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. “You—”

Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. “Try not to paint the deck with it this time, I’ve already mopped twice.”

The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you can’t say it to him. So you make a scene of splashing into the bucket with vigour, sending spills over the rim and taking mild satisfaction in hearing him sigh at the sight of more mopping.

He’s already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time you��re done as you remerge with clean hair, wringing your own mop of hair to deposit the excess water. Straightening out your back, you take hold of the spare cloth you brought along with you, patting your hair with it.

The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshi’s grumbling form as he mops up all the water you’ve spilled.

“You know, I should really be making you—” He halts as he makes eye contact with you, your hands still occupied with patting your hair dry, flicking the wet strands. You have a rebuttal already prepared, waiting for him to finish his jab.

“Make me what? you grind.

You can’t make out the look on his face, somewhere between constipated and on the edge of a yelp, he keeps staring at you. You note a slight trickle of water making its way down your neck and chest, bleeding into your shirt as yet another water stain.

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise.

And with that uneventful climax, you trudge back down to your quarters, a strange brewing in your chest.

[AN]: congrats you made it to the end of part 1!!!!! reblog ur thots and opinions or send me an ask, id love to hear the turmoil in ur minds lol

#gonna wait for this all to be out #then binge the fuck outta it #im so excited #man i love pirates #bring me that booty

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