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gyuswhore · 5 months ago

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Never Shall We Die (3; final)

«« 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 | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k

@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 tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out

[AN]: final part oh my god if youve read the other parts up till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it, im really proud of this fic and im so happy so many of you have enjoyed it so far. @highvern betaing as always ty for not giving up on me. AS ALWAYS, PLS TELL ME YOUR THOTS IN THE RBS OR THE REPLIES OR SEND ME AN ASK LITERALLY WTV MUAH MUAH HAPPY READING <3

THIS IS THE NICEST PRISON Hoshi has ever been in, which was saying something, because he had been in quite a lot of prisons.

But it was uncomfortable nonetheless, six grown men tied up and shoved into a crouching space to be done with as the men that prowled above pleased.

Hoshi would be lying if he said he hadn’t had to restrain from pushing some of those sorry soldiers into the ice waters beyond the glaciers. He had resisted, the crew had resisted, but just enough to convince them of their unwillingness.

Hoshi had realised early on that there was no possible way of getting aboard Tigress without somehow climbing aboard the King’s boat first. The king wasn’t about to simply hand Hoshi’s ship over, and there was no indication that they'd wait till after nightfall to depart.

Hoshi also knew that the King would refuse to have him die so easily in the waters of the Green Islands, his pride depended on it. He imagines the man drawing up the specifics of the most gruesome execution the Kingdom would ever see. Hoshi was counting on it.

The bounds could’ve been broken out of and the locks somehow picked, but Hoshi also knew that he had to wait. Wait for you to find him first.

“What’s taking her so long?” Jun asks. He’d been the most anxious out of all, the shaking feet and restless moving making it clear.

“The bomb won’t…go off still strapped to her, will it?” Minghao asks and Hoshi isn’t quite sure he wants to know the answer.

“It shouldn’t. Not until she pulls the tab. But…”

“But?” Hoshi whips around. “Why is there a but? You were supposed to make sure there was no but!”

“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!”

“Are you sure we can’t break out and look for her ourselves?” Mingyu grumbles, the most compromised with his longer limbs folded in uncomfortable positions.

“The minute they know we’re loose they’ll swarm her. There won’t be a way to get to her, not without fighting off every last bastard on this ship. They’ve taken our stuff too, we don’t stand a chance.”

They did, actually, stand a chance. But that was only if they were to break away and head straight for Tigress that was empty and standing right beside this very ship. But they couldn’t. Hoshi couldn’t. Not without taking you with him.

Nobody dares to suggest the easier route, and he doubts it’s just because of what he wants.

But panic was beginning to trickle into Hoshi’s veins anyway, the closed off brig refusing to give him any indication of the time of day.

The sun was only beginning to set when they were taken to the ship, and he knew they were near done for if they didn’t finish what they started before nightfall. He can’t tell how long it’s been, and it eats away at his insides.

Please be okay.

And then he hears it, the sound of a body hitting the floors with a loud thud, a chortle of air before it’s knocked out. He finds himself sitting up straighter, pressing his hands to bars of the prison, trying to peer out the narrow walkway that leads to the doors.

And then you appear in the lamplight, haphazard and ruffled up beyond measure.

The knife in your hand drips with blood, your shirt torn at the arms, your hands bloodied and bruised.

When Hoshi sees your face he almost doesn’t recognise you.

There’s angry blooming marks of red and purple all across your neck and collarbone, your eyes bloodshot and red, watering like you’d been swimming in salt water.

“Who did this?” he asks before anything else, watching you drop to your knees in front of the prison, unanswering as you fumbled with a giant ring of keys in your hand.

You jam each key into the lock, twisting it to no avail. Your hands are shaking.

The crew finally twist out of their loose bonds, Minghao lurching forward immediately, swatting your hands away. He picks out a few skinny pins from his boot, picking the rusty lock. Despite the strange angle, the bars creak open within seconds.

“There’s…There’s ropes hooked onto the ship on the main deck.”

Your voice sounds like you’re speaking through sandpaper, talking while struggling to emerge with the bomb you had.

Hoshi doesn’t know what to do when he crawls out of the space.

He’d had it all figured out in his head, what would happen in every possible outcome. You getting hurt wasn’t in any of his universal conclusions; especially not on this ship. They’d kill his crew, they might even kill the King with themselves, but you were meant to remain unscathed.

“Why–why do you look like that? What happened?” Nothing registers in his head, not even when Jun is pushing him out into the hall.

“Get up to the deck and get out across the lines!” Jun gruffs in his ears. “That bomb’s gonna go off with us still on here.”

He sees the canister that lies in the same prison they had just exited, he sees your mouth moving without sound. All he can think of are the distinct fingerprints around your throat and how it looked like somebody tried to kill you before they tried to kill him.

“Soonyoung,” he hears you say in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for him to snap out of it.

His crew is looking at him expectantly. He looks back at the door and sees the crumpled bodies of the prison guards.

So much for leaving quietly.

The minute Hoshi is out the door of the brig, he finds a chest next to the collapsed, bleeding soldiers. Kicking it open, he can only scoff as he finds the entire crew’s weapons in such close vicinity.

He feels better with his dagger at his hip, along with the rest of his knives that he slips into the loops. Even more so with the rest of his crew armed and ready.

“We know where the deck is.” He swallows, eyeing his crew’s weapons in their ready hands. He knew they’d agreed to ensure the clean sinking of the ship, but the fallen bodies on the floor were an ode to a different route they’d have to take. “Don’t hesitate if someone gets in your way.”

Taking cautious steps to the upper decks, he finds more bodies collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and unconscious. He opts to ask you the details later, wondering how you were able to take down all these guards by yourself.

It isn’t until they reach the stairs that lead to the main deck that he comes across a guard.

Before the witness can raise any alarm, Hoshi’s slamming the butt of his dagger into the side of his head, knocking him clean unconscious as he falls off the side of the short railing.

Clambering up the steps as quietly as possible, he raises a hand behind him to signal his crew to halt, peering into the main deck first.

The sun is still out, but low in the sky as it dips in the sky. There’s a few people on the deck, pacing and moving about in preparation for departure. Angling his gaze, he finds ropes suspended over the edge of the railing, parallel to the water.

He can’t see Tigress, but he knows that’s what the ropes are hooked on to.

“Jun,” he beckons. “How long till the bomb on the other ship goes off?”

The bomb Jun had planted in the first ship they had arrived in should be going off any time now, and Hoshi finds himself needing it to go off now.

Jun barely opened his mouth to reply when the ship shuddered.

For a moment, Hoshi thinks the bomb in the brigs had gone off, but when he finds the clambering of boots to one side of the ship, opposite to where the ropes tied to Tigress, he realises their surrogate ship had given its last gift to the crew.

The rest of the ship would be bounding to the main deck to inspect the noise soon, so he shoots a quick, “Hurry!” behind him before stepping onto the main deck.

The entire deck is occupied with the ship that lies a ways away across the expanse of sea, the beginnings that would soon lead the entire ship to be engulfed in flames. It’s tilting at a dangerous angle.

Hoshi stands as he uses the crew straight towards the ropes that lead to Tigress. Glancing, he finds Mingyu and Chan already hanging on the suspended ropes, making their way towards the empty deck of their ship.

Hoshi keeps his eyes on the occupied men on board, still staring at the lightshow that was their old ship. It isn’t until one of them turns, eyes towards the stairs that lead to the lower decks, that his eyes dart to the unfamiliar men on the deck.

“Fuck,” Hoshi curses, before lunging, grabbing the man by the shoulders and covering his mouth, dragging him wordlessly to the edge before throwing him off the ship and into the icy waters below.

“Go!” he hears you rasp brom behind him, ushering him to the ropes.

The crew is gone, Jun making the last jump to land on the deck. They’re running around, pulling ropes and fastening the sails to push the ship off into open waters as soon as possible.

There’s two ropes that tie the two ships together, and Hoshi ushers you onto one of them, pushing you to suspend yourself before he follows.

“There’s not enough time, go to the other one!” you tell him, pushing him to hold onto the other tattered rope.

Soonyoung eyes your state, “Are you sure you can—”

“Yes! I promise I can, please, before they cut both the ropes.”

So he trusts you, eyes straight ahead to the railing of his ship, gripping the rough, frayed rope to push himself towards the deck. His hands burn, but he finds himself moving ever closer to his final destination.

His hand grabs hold of the wooden railing of his Tigress at long last, pulling himself onto the deck of his beloved ship. Immediately whipping his head to his right, he tries to find you reaching the ship with him. The crew is preoccupied in attempting to get the ship ready for departure, he finds your form nowhere.

When he looks back, the rope he had climbed was gone, leaving gaping space in its absence. He trails the second rope, from the hook that had dug into the railing of Tigress’s wood, trailing it to the naval ship’s deck.

What he sees puts his heart in his throat.

You stand on the deck of your father’s ship, swarmed by now alert guards and soldiers who swarm you, yelling profanities and orders as they watch their prisoners get away right in front of them.

Hoshi watches as you lift your dagger, and cut the last rope that ties you together, free to fall and hit against the hull of his ship.

He calls out your name in what could only be described as a guttural scream.

His crew halts whatever it was they were doing, taking the steps to realise what had just happened.

Hoshi’s boot meets the top of the railing, ready to take the plunge into the water. He’d climb back up the ship and get you out. He doesn’t know what you were thinking, what he was thinking when he left you there, but he’d get you out.

Arms pulling him, he’s yanked back and positively thrown onto the deck.

“What is wrong with you?” Minghao yells, pushing his captain back as he springs up.

“She—”

Your father emerges from the crowd of guards and soldiers that run rampant on the deck, approaching you at the railing of the main deck.

Hoshi sees the hand that remains on his shoulder, the blood that covers the still bleeding wound, the effort it takes him to simply walk.

The bruises on your neck, the wound at his shoulder that looks like it was slashed through by a knife.

And then it clicks in Hoshi’s head, what had truly happened in the hours that you were out of his sight. And all he sees is red.

WITH THE WAY THE words on the pages seem to double, you would’ve thought you were going mad.

You’re a child, barely grown into your own body as you sit in the dimly lit library of the palace, utterly exhausted, wishing to be anywhere but sitting at the wooden desk with your name on it. The moon barely shone through the window, your only source of light the fireplace that burned in the corner and your lamplight.

It was a time where you felt like you could prove yourself, that perhaps, the reason your father refused you his approval was because you were simply not working hard enough. And now, at an hour where you should be fast asleep in your four poster bed, you attempt to understand diplomatic structures and everything that made your country what it was.

It was late, and there was nothing you would’ve liked more than to put your head on the table and rest your eyes for a few tantalising seconds, which you do, right over the book you were reading.

You awoke in the same place, shaken awake by a panicked looking servant, the sun shining through the great windows of the palace library.

It seems your disappearance from your bedchambers had put the entire palace in disarray, not realising the princess was fast asleep behind the giant pile of books other servants had already skimmed past thrice.

Not only were you unable to recite the rankings of the constitutions with the vigour your father required, but you were unable to give him a reason as to why you were absent for both breakfast and morning lessons.

He made the servants kneel in the throne room for hours, and did not fail to tell you that it was all your fault.

And now, in the ice cold of the Green Islands, old and wise enough to know that your father simply needed a reason to despise his heir, you accept the hands around your throat as his final act of terror.

Red faced and arms shaking, your father does not speak to you as he presses down on your windpipe with all his might. Your vision is going dark and splotchy, and you decide, for a moment, to let him have this moment.

He’s too preoccupied in applying his pressure to realise that you’ve raised your right foot enough for your hands to fish out your knife from its place, taking positivity in the handle of your knife that fits in your hand.

Before you can lose consciousness, you raise your arm high, and plunge it directly into his neck.

Howling, he releases you from his hold, both of you dropping to the floor of the ship with a resonating thud. You cough, sputter and hack, cold hands finding your now warm neck.

Your father lays clutching his shoulder as he remains in agony on the floor, and you realise you missed the crucial plunge in your own disarray.

It was good enough, rendering the old man incapable of finding his bearings.

You watch as he writhes on the floor of the quarters that almost became your figurative deathbed, the same hands that wrapped around his own daughter’s throat now clutching the shallow wound that renders him useless.

Standing over him, throwing your own shadow on his body, you feel a surge of power, a rush of adrenaline that shoots straight to your head. Perhaps this was your circulation returning from the deprivation, but you let the feeling imprint in your soul, let your father’s broken figure bring you satisfaction.

You leave him there, writhing in pain, digging your knife under the lock of the quarters, pulling back to break it away from the door. The guards stationed outside do nothing as you leave, and it isn’t until you’ve taken to lower decks that you hear the distinct yell of, “Your Majesty!”

Two more guards, who don’t expect an altercation from their princess, simply buffer as you send your knife plunging into them both. You do it deep this time.

Nobody was innocent, you knew these people as your father’s closest men, and knew that all of them were to remain silent as their King murdered his daughter. And when the remorse doesn’t do that thing where it trickles in after doing a bad thing, you decide you weren’t part of the innocents either.

It’s easier than you would’ve expected to get to the crew in the brig, letting out a sigh of relief as you appreciate the familiarity of people on your side.

And when Hoshi took his place to guide everyone out and into the open space of the main deck, you let your racing mind rest and decide to trust the man in whatever decision he made to lead you all out. And he did, he led himself and his crew right into the ship that was theirs, safe and where they would have the upper hand.

Hoshi didn’t know it when he climbed onto the ropes that lead to his boat that he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stayed, hadn’t used your voice of authority to keep the soldiers from attempting to shoot at the escapees, cut the rope while Hoshi remained suspended from it, still only halfway there.

You didn’t look at him when you sliced both ropes before either party could pull back, didn’t register him screaming your name across the void, pretending it wasn’t taking everything out of your strength.

But you couldn’t jump into the water, not now when a dozen of the royal guards remained ready to take the plunge to save their princess as their duty. The same guards that would comply with their king when told the princess was dead for reasons they all knew but were to forget.

The bomb had to go off first, and you had to keep them away from hooking another line to the ship in the meantime. You were operating on a flawed plan and an overenthusiastic crowd of guards that were moments away from shooting a canon straight into the side of the disconnected pirate ship.

The distraction comes in the form of your father parting the crowd of soldiers like the red sea, swatting every soldier that attempts to help his bleeding form for anything it was worth. He approaches you at the railing, and for once, you don’t look at the ground in his presence.

“Bold,” he heaves, the effort in his voice apparent. “Bold of you to think you could slip away.”

“I haven’t tried to slip away, father,” you correct. “I’ve stayed right here, even after you failed to kill me. And I, you.”

“Nobody is going to listen to you, child. Give in. This is the easy way out,” he says.

As if on cue, Jun’s bomb goes off for the second time, but this time the ship shudders with more force. It has your father unbalance and fall, along with multiple other soldier’s stumbling. You grip the railing tight, counting on your father’s need to live.

Despite your horrid throat and the ache in your body, you announce as loud as you can. “The bomb is in the brig, this ship is sinking.”

The fallen king trembles in a rage you had never quite seen before. Any other time of your life, you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole to be the subject of such anger.

Except, in the setting sun, a burning ship in the background, a pirate ship that awaits you, and the ground beneath your feet that was actively sinking into the freezing water; you smile at your doomed King.

“Get to the brig! Secure the lower decks, do not let this ship sink or so help me God!” His voice rings across the deck, spittle blowing from his mouth at the situation.

And just like that, your father gives you the final gift of clearing the main deck out for you, leaving but a few straggling soldiers that are too preoccupied with either the sinking ship or their bleeding sovereign.

Looking back, you find the crew of Tigress standing at the railing, you find Hoshi already half over the edge and send him a slow nod.

Turning back to your father that remains on the floor of the ship that would become his coffin, you utter your next words; for yourself, and the girl that was every second before this, all the way to her first ever memory of sad:

“You’ve taught me to be a ruler fit to be the best for our Kingdom. Consider your death my first act of service for the Crown.”

And then you jumped into the darkening void of the waters below.

THE COLD FEELS LIKE every nerve in your body ceased to work.

It was nothing at first, the temperature so intense it had your body numb in the face of shock. And then it grew, to a striking cold, and then a feeling that pricked every inch of your skin like a million needles plunging into your body. It was only getting worse with each passing second, before it was so painful it was hot, going from cold to searing and blistering like you’d plunged into the licks of flames.

Nowhere in your body did you find a rational sense of mind, something to tell you to kick, flail or float. The warped sky was an orange through the green, only more vibrant. Like there were two ships actively burning on the surface of this water.

Hoshi’s face appears behind your closing eyelids, like a mirage or a taunt. Like he was there with you when he wasn’t.

Would he come for you? Would he take the plunge for the girl he held in his arms, promising her something to fill the gap of a companion, right before she killed her own?

You’d given him what he wanted; your father, his worst enemy, dying as he sank slowly into the bottom of the ocean. You’d run your course of use, and if he was as smart as people claimed, he’d leave you to suffer the same fate as your father.

He could find his freedom elsewhere.

And you would find your freedom in the close of your eyes, and the sinking feeling of nothingness.

Except, you feel a hardness against your body, stronger even than the current of the waters. Moving impossibly upwards, you remember opening your eyes to find a leather cord suspended in the float of the water, before you remember nothing.

THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.

But as unnatural as it seemed, Hoshi had no inclination to register anything but the way the ship in front of him tilts so far out it's already half submerged in the waters. He’d assumed they might have to ready the cannons, but with the way debris and hollowed wood floats in the waters below, they would not need to.

The King was about to be introduced to Davy Jones’ Locker at the hands of his enemy and successor, but Hoshi could not care enough right now to relish in it.

Right now, he stares at the direct circumference of water your body had made contact with and disappeared into, like the world would explode if he lost his place.

“Should I jump as well?” Mingyu asks, already half taking his boots off. However, when the man turns to find his captain gone, he lurches over the railing to find his captain diving into the water through all the debris.

Hoshi lets the momentum of his dive take him as further down as possible, whipping his head around as soon as his eyes open into the abyss. The water ripples and erupts in showers of bubbles as broken pieces of ship come apart to fall into the water. It blurs his vision immensely, any ripple that could be you in the water coming out to be yet another piece of wasted wood.

The deeper he goes, the more the water presses into his ears. He was a good swimmer, good at holding his breath when needed, but even he had limits.

When he cannot see any sign of you, he begins to feel the churning of something skin to panic brew. Panic was never good, not this deep in the water.

Twisting and turning, flailing about in place, moving dangerously closer to the burning ship that continued to drop flaming bits of killing slabs, he finds no sign of you in the water.

Instead, he watches men in uniform sink deeper and deeper in their failed attempts to stay afloat.

All he can think about is if they were losing the battle for air, then so were you, somewhere deeper in the void than he was. He prays that he’s looking aimlessly, that you’ve already somehow made your way to the surface by yourself, and you were safe on the deck.

The beaded bracelet that remained on his wrist, but belonged to you.

“A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

Even without the encasing on his wrist, you had given him more than enough reason to want to come out of this alive, to want to live beyond just for himself and his duty to the crew he’d taken in.

He chose the life of a pirate because it was his only out, and every member of his crew that he recruited in succession, he acted as the hand he had needed so desperately in that awful brothel where his mother despised him and his father, a faceless man of Port Ash.

Amphitrite was not kind, it was a lesson he learned quickly in his first ventures out at sea. So he too, had to learn to be unkind, to survive in the horrid bellies of ships that weren’t his own. And when Tigress came into his life like a vessel of hope, he found a home in her merciful wood, in the ship that he could call his very own.

Hoshi lived as a free man on his ship, with his crew that had become his brothers in ways beyond what the thick of blood could offer. He did not care if he lived or died after that, as long as it was on his ship, in the waters that held no quarter for anyone, but gave him everything that nothing else could give him.

And so when you approached him with a proposal so bizarre yet so apt for a man like him, he could not refuse. It may have been the way he saw himself in you, terrified of the prospects but thirsting for an escape more than the fear that came with it.

Besides, the king was a nuisance that needed to go, and he found himself agreeing to play the hand too complicated for you.

What he did not expect was to end up here, in the depths of the ocean in the most uninhabitable part of the earth, trying to pull you out of the cold, unrelenting sea.

Hoshi realises in that moment that this might ruin him, the possibility of breaking the surface without you.

He decides that if the heavens do not let him find you, he would simply drown in the same waters that gave him purpose, and find peace with the idea that he would lay rest in the same waters as the person who might have given him something more.

Kwon Soonyoung, the deadliest pirate to cleave the seas, was in love with you. A princess, so undeserving of a man like him; a bastard, a rogue, a good for nothing criminal.

And when he spots the all too familiar build of your form, the linen shirt under the corset he had tied for you just hours ago, the dark brown trousers that signified the change he’d brought into your life, he swore to leave everything he’d ever known to thank the skies and seas for bringing him to you.

His burning lungs, screaming and searing for air, grabbing for your suspended arm that looked as defeated as your closed eyes. Tugging you towards him, he wraps his arm around you to press you to him as tight as he could.

Relief. And with the warm sting in his eyes that he doubted was from the salt in the water, he’s sure of everything he’s felt with the feeling of you in his arms.

With the bruising on your neck, the bleeding wound in your father’s shoulder, he finds it within his breaking body to begin kicking upwards.

Every limb, every cell, every hint of life in his body shrieked with its efforts to make him stop. There was no air in his lungs and he’d lost track of time in his search for you, he doesn’t know how long he has.

But if the blots of nothingness in his eyes were anything to go with, he doesn’t presume he has much. In a last ditch effort, he attempts to kick his boots off to weigh him down a little less, holding your dead weight tighter than anything.

He was so close, he could feel the warmth of the upper levels of the water change in its temperature on his skin. The glow was near blinding as the orange refracted on the disrupted surface of the ocean, so close yet so far.

Inch by inch, kick by kick, memory by memory, he does everything left in his drained power to touch the surface.

And he does, breaking out hand first into the burning air of the world above, taking the longest gasp of air he ever has in his life. Once he’s sure he knows where he is, he pushes you up further on his chest, your head resting against his collarbone, still unconscious.

“Stay with me, princess,” he pants into your ear, hoping you could hear. “I’ve got you.”

Chan and Mingyu are in the water beside him, pushing him towards the pulley that awaited them.

Mingyu makes an attempt to take your weight of his already struggling captain, but Hoshi finds himself holding on to you tighter, simply urging him to help him back on the deck.

The minute your head hits the wood of the deck, he’s checking your pulse. There’s no regard for the chaos that ensues around Tigress, both him and his crew too preoccupied with the way you were not breathing.

“I–I can’t feel anything,” he stutters his words as Seungkwan places a less panicked hand at your neck, under your nose.

“It’s weak, she’s taken in too much water.”

In an instant, he reaches for his knife at his hip, only to realise it was gone, lost somewhere in his rescue.

“Knife,” he rasps before repeating louder. “Someone give me a knife!”

The minute a hilt is in his hands, he’s pushing you over, to reach the back of your constricting corset, pushing his knife into the complicated sailing knot he’d tied it into before, breaking it free. With both hands, he takes hold of the top of the corset and rips it clean in half.

Turning you back over, he presses his hands over your clothed stomach, pushing into it with all his strength in an attempt to get the water out of your system. He keeps his eyes on your face, and when he sees no sign of you coming round, he feels another set of hands pushing him off.

Seungkwan takes over for his weakened captain, pushing into your stomach harder, attempting to get a break out of you.

“Why isn’t she coming around, what’s going on?” He throws the question aimlessly as he takes your unmoving face in his hands, trembling from everything.

Only a moment later, he hears the glorious sound of you sputtering like something was stuck in your throat, promptly spilling out an ungodly amount of water onto the deck as you retch loudly.

Sitting up from the force, your hands clamp onto the deck as you cough and heave, Hoshi’s hand coming behind you to thump your back hard, pushing you to throw up any remaining seawater from your body.

The sight of your back moving up and down, the audible sound of you taking in air; it was enough for Hoshi to simply lay on the deck and pass out.

You rear your head and look up at him, both of you still breathing heavily.

“You’re okay,” he assures, gulping. He takes your face in hands cupping it very gently as he speaks to you. “Go with Seungkwan, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Nodding, you let yourself be helped up by the rest of the crew, watching as you’re led to the lower decks of the ship.

“Open your shirt, let me see the wound,” Mingyu says, and Hoshi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Looking down, he sees his shirt soaked in red, sticking to a wound on the right side of his torso. He didn’t even know where he got it.

It looks like a shallow gash, but enough to leave a scar. He takes it better to have it tended to while he was still high on adrenaline and he couldn’t feel much of the pain.

By the time Mingyu and Minghao are done cleaning him up and Hoshi’s standing upright with wobbly legs, he finds the two burning ships beyond his own mere floating structures of wood that were in slow flame. There’s too much debris, too many bits of everything that bob in the large expanse of water to make out any bodies.

“There’s nobody,” Mingyu tells him. “Most of them were in lower decks when it all went down. Trapped themselves.”

“And…?” he asks in silence.

“He stayed on the deck until it sank,” Minghao informs. “Yelling about how he…about how he should’ve finished her when he had the chance.”

“Horrible king and somehow an even worse father,” Mingyu scoffs. “Made it better to watch him die.”

“He didn’t suffer enough,” Hoshi croaks as the marks on your throat dot his vision.

Just then, floating in the water, illuminated by the final streaks of setting light, Hoshi sees it. A darkened purple cloth right next to the hull.

“That,” he points out. “Get that out of the water.”

The late king’s purple cape laid on the deck of Tigress, darkened with water, but also with his blood.

To the Kingdom, this cape would be the last piece of their King that was gone too soon. But for every person on this ship, it would forever be their spoils of war.

Hoshi makes sure the cape will be dried and stored, ordering his crew to begin their slow journey out of the Green Islands, before he too crumples onto the deck unconscious.

IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element.

Something about how he seemed to beam, like this ship was charging him a different kind of energy. It was infectious, the rest of the ship decreasingly sour as they put on musical performances on the main deck while they cleaned the floors.

As relieved as you felt, the tight ball of anxiety refused to leave the pit of your stomach as you grew closer to the Kingdom. Nothing could prepare you for the shitstorm you’d have to deal with the moment you’d step onto the soil off a pirate ship of all things—let alone as Queen.

The first few days following the ship's exit from the Green Islands were difficult, if that was all you had to describe it. You took to your hammock for most of the day, curled up as you pretended to sleep, only waking up when one of the crew would come down to force feed you and to make sure you hadn’t died.

You knew they were doing all this to make you feel better, and somehow it was working. More than halfway through your journey, you began to feel more like yourself, emerging from your cave to visit the deck on times other than the nights.

Even now, as you sit on the floor of the deck with Seungkwan, who hands you an all too familiar stack of parchment, you feel nothing as you take them into your hands. As you read his handwriting scrawled in ink, you appreciate your past self for having the sense to keep them all.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” he says to you. “Had us worried for a while there.”

“Sorry.” You smile weakly. “But thank you for…everything. I don’t think I could ever express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. All of you.”

“I’d like to think we’ve gone past the status of mere business partners,” Seungkwan chuckles. “Lion befriends the bear? Whatever it is. But know we’d do it again.”

Blinking back the sting of tears and doing your very best to not let the warm feeling in your chest overwhelm you, you place the letters on the floor next to your folded legs. When you look up, Seungkwan's eyes are on your neck.

“They’re taking their time to fade, aren’t they?” you say.

Seungkwan has a hard look in his eye, “I guess you didn’t need your letters to remind you of anything after all.”

Your mind wanders, drifting past how easily this crew could have been forgotten in the unforgiving elements. Perhaps you would have let the man that wrapped his hands around your neck finish his job.

“Was getting captured part of your grand plan?” you ask Seungkwan.

“Hm?” It takes a moment to realise what you may be questioning him about, smiling slightly. “What makes you think we went in with a plan?”

“I thought I asked you to man the wheel?” Hoshi stands above the both of you.

“Not to batten down the hatches,” he side-eyed his captain. “Clear waters ahead, the wheel does not need manning.”

You zone out as they squabble over nothing, not finding the heart to be entertained by their back and forth. Seungkwan either loses or forfeits, because you feel him rise from next to you, only for his captain to take his place.

“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks.

“Everything,” you sigh.

“How come Seungkwan gets a thank you for your service and I don’t? Need I remind you who jumped for you and who didn’t?”

Rolling your eyes, you answer him, “Thank you, Captain Hoshi Kwon, I am forever indebted to your service.”

He chuckles in exaggeration, “Oh please, all in a day's work.”

“I mean it.”

“Hm?”

“I never did say thank you. But you did jump for me when you didn’t have to.”

“Who said I didn’t have to?”

“Our deal was done.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Our deal was to get you out when you jumped. I merely honoured that promise!”

“Merely?” you raise a brow. “Was it all merely a matter of conscience?”

His gaze locks with yours. “Don’t ask questions you know the answers for. I would’ve jumped even if you asked me to rope myself to the mast.”

“Please. I have enough blood on my hands and I haven’t even sat on my throne yet.”

“Blood is only on your hands if you tell a soul of what you’ve done,” Hoshi utters. “You’re the only living soul who knows.”

“And you are…?”

“Pirate. Our word means nothing.” Hoshi smiles.

The thought hangs in the air as you take in the man in front of you. He’s changed an era’s worth, yet all the same. His hair is longer, going from his initial shorter crop to curling around his ears, shielding his eyes. It makes him look younger, like a boy with much to live for.

That, and the multitude of notable scars he’s added to his collection, many of which have somehow been because of you. The wound at his torso is doing better, but far to go in its quest to heal.

Hoshi senses something amiss even after his sermon. Breaking his gaze, he turns to look straight ahead at the raised bow of the ship instead.

“Do you know how I got my splendid reputation for being the filthiest pirate on the seas?”

You can only stare, “I have a few guesses.”

He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”

“Tell me.”

“Unnamed sailors have the odds of a peanut facing its inevitable fate of being crushed under a straggling boot. Pirates don’t see the government as their enemy when they’re own supposed brothers are more likely to jam a cannon in their mouths.”

He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “My mistake wasn’t that I was on the losing side in my early days, but more about how I was leaving nothing behind when I was done.”

“How humble,” you hum.

“Dead men tell no tales. When it’s worth it, it might be better to leave a straggler or two to live to tell the tale. A routine stab in the jugular can turn you into somewhat of a myth.”

“Am I a survivor?” you question.

“You may be sovereign on land, but you’re also an unnamed pirate,” he responds, turning back to lock eyes with you. “And you’ve left nobody to tell the tale.”

No one listens to a pirate, and everyone listens to a Queen.

“This isn’t to say there won’t be a legend that follows you.” He quirks a brow as he speaks. “Shows up and claims her father and his entire ship and crew sank at sea, only to befriend his sworn enemies in the aftermath. And then it evolves; she sent a cannon through her fathers ship, he died at the end of his own daughter's sword, she cursed him to captain a crew of the undead for eternity.”

“Have I planted the seeds for yet another ghost story?” It’s difficult to not giggle at the thought, despite how morbid.

“You’ve given yourself substance,” he says, a little stronger than before. His eyes too, wander to your neck and the bruises that refuse to budge. “Beyond just a royal or even a pirate. You did it for your honour as a human being, and that may be braver than anything I have ever conquered.”

In your anxiety ridden, feeble mind, your thoughts had convinced your conscience that everything would be over the minute your father’s heart stopped beating. That it would bring you peace at last.

And it did, especially when it felt like you’d gotten rid of this constant monster under the bed that had followed you far into adulthood. But from the bleeding heart of the creature emerged yet another one of its brethren, and then another and then another.

Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless.

Weeks of this, and in one short interaction, Hoshi seemed to have given you the key to turn this monster into a pet.

On instinct, you feel your hand reach up, brushing against the skin of his cheek. It’s an all too familiar setting, seated on the deck of a ship too close for anybody but yours’ comfort. But without the rum and resentment, of course. And how you doubt he’d pull away this time.

Very lightly, you brush your lips against his. It was nothing but to simply feel him again, to feel a semblance of familiarity.

You feel him take your hand that rests on his cheek to place a kiss on your palm, nuzzling his nose into the concave of your hand.

Everything that was to come seemed a little more possible in that very moment.

Even more so when his fingers found the sensitive areas of your coloured throat, when his lips closed against your jaw, only to trail lower and to press into the marks his fingers continue to trail tucked into your neck.

That night, when slipping into your hammock felt like the most unbearable prospect in your near future, it couldn’t possibly be worse than uttering your next question to the man that seems to fix it all.

“Will you stay with me?”

With nothing but the light snores of the rest of the crew and the creaking of the ship, both you and Soonyoung laid in a hammock most definitely not meant for two. Head on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart beats under his scar, it’s bliss.

The feeling of his warm body against yours and the scent of him settling in your lungs, you decide that this was enough. At least for now.

IT WAS DIFFICULT TO give yourself the full list for obvious reasons, but it does seem to help when you tick off all the possible reasons why your patience has run as thin as it has.

Sitting at the decorated seat at the convened court of old men appointed by your father, you briefly wonder if you should finish them off too amidst your flash of anger. The men continue to squabble and babble about the next course of action, slamming their wrinkled hands on the pristine table and sending their own daggers of threats to the other inhabitants of the table.

“If you’d like to send a search party for the King’s body, be my guest,” you finally speak, having had quite enough when the throb in your temple worsens. “But remind me what troops you’ll be sending to the North if your best men will be gone for months attempting to find a body they never will.”

The dispute in the North side of the Kingdom was taking up most of the conversation anyway, and you doubt they’d put customary burial rites over their own glory of victory the North would bring.

“Your Majesty—”

“I would happily jump on the next search ship for my father,” you lie through your teeth. “But I watched him drown in front of my own two eyes, and as the next sovereign I cannot let you waste our resources for something that will both risk our soldier’s lives and have them come back home empty handed.”

Perhaps you had come off slightly more heartless than you intended, so you quickly add, “Please, let my father rest in peace.”

That seems to end the conversation easier than you had expected, but they’re quick to jump to the next issue not long after.

“The court would also like to bring light upon the palace guests.”

Tightening your jaw, you slump against your seat slightly. “What about them?”

They remain silent as their mouthpiece attempts to form the right words for the following question, mostly because you’ve addressed this multiple times beforehand but they continue to sit restless.

“Allow me to help you, Lord Bridge,” you sit up straighter, intending to put this matter to rest. “My guests will remain here for as long as they do, and if you have any more arising issues towards my guests I will only take it as your collective issues towards me.”

In the moment of silence, you continue, “The Kingdom is in a place of instability as we are all well aware. I find it most appalling that you remain fixated on trivial matters of the palace’s domestic code of conduct than you do for the wellbeing of this country!”

Silence yet again as you wait for their forcibly rehearsed chorus of apologies.

“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”

The pain in your temples becomes near unbearable as you dismiss the table after that, screeching your chair as you push it back as loud as you possibly can to do nothing but spite the men.

Turning the corner out of the room, you catch the open gates that lead to the paved gardens outside, the sun seeping into the marble floors indoors. Taking an instinctive step towards the gardens, you find most of the crew sprawled onto the grass as they soak in the sun.

Chan and Seungkwan look like they’re wrestling, their laughter ringing throughout the open court while their captain snaps at them to cut it out, only to get roped under one of their headlocks all the same.

There’s a call of your name and a giant wave from Mingyu, who spots you from beyond the flower beds. Still leaning against the gates, you smile and wave back.

Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit.

Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart.

Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted.

He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company.

“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents.

“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms.

“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”

There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed.

He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him.

“Stay. Please.”

True as he has always been, he does.

THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.

And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life.

Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner.

The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night.

Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion.

Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented.

“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone.

“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile.

“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”

Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”

“Disappointed?”

“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment.

“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.

Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”

“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”

Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”

At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?”

Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”

He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours.

But you don’t.

“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”

With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”

It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”

“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”

Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?

“Are you going to abandon me too?”

His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him.

“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.

“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably.

In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you.

“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”

Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”

“I don’t want someone! I want you!”

He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly.

“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”

He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.

“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”

Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him.

“I—” he stutters. “The court—”

“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”

You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer.

“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”

Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth.

It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”

He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”

For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more.

The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath.

The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back.

“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”

As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face.

“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”

With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight.

BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely.

Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign.

But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own.

Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask.

“Has the Captain approached?”

“No, your Majesty.”

You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.”

Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body.

Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep.

That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss.

Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out.

Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock.

“Your guards mortify me.”

“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”

“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”

Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.

“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”

“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”

It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”

He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”

Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway.

Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it.

If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle.

From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.

He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving.

Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.

With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him.

Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed.

“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”

“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”

Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”

He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much.

Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether.

Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing.

By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed.

He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable.

Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound.

You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound.

On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist.

The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air.

Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up.

“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh.

The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard.

“Soonyoung!”

Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced.

Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs.

Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach.

Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.

“What…What’re you doing?”

Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question.

It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—

Ah.

If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him.

Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know.

The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive.

Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten.

“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?”

Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his.

Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly.

The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white.

With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers.

You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.

Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused.

All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were.

You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue.

He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit.

“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder.

When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt.

It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further.

And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system.

It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree.

“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible.

Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were.

Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”

Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath.

“I need words, my love.”

Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”

The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you.

You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him.

You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence.

Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks.

His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling.

Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth.

Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you.

In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before.

Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up.

And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”

He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?”

It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”

You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”

Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear.

“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”

His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions.

The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth.

“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”

“You weren’t?”

He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”

Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.”

Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.”

You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”

Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you.

And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you.

“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest.

“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again.

Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before.

“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely.

“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud.

Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own.

But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open.

“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely.

Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay.

He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake.

Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern.

It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—

Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you.

“Oh, Soonyoung.”

Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched.

All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed.

He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure.

One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast.

It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.

And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again.

“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”

You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further.

He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop.

“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”

Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you.

It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made.

He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs.

You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed.

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face.

He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could.

You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth.

“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest.

You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping.

He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face.

“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek.

“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.

“I’d let you, but…”

“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine.

He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”

“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark.

Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart.

“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”

BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens.

It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.

The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this.

The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same.

“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”

He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”

“Soonyoung—”

“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”

Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.”

“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name.

“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”

You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.”

It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes.

Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers.

Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers.

He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone.

And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly.

Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”

Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens.

You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow.

You could get used to this. And you will.

THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace.

The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses.

The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer.

And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks.

You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship.

There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow.

His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take.

Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago.

By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern.

“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom.

It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?”

“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”

His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”

By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you.

“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”

Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.”

There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s.

“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands.

You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port.

“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at.

He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace.

“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”

“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light.

One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder.

He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back.

As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon.

There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend.

For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings.

That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you.

Always.

[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3

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gyuswhore · 5 months ago

Text

Never Shall We Die (2)

«« 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!)

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 | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k

masterlist

[AN]: part 2 !!!! ty for reading pt1, hope you guys will enjoy this too <3 as always, ty to @highvern for beta-ing and sitting through this entire thing lmao <3 happy reading, and remember to tell me what you think !!

THE FOREVER EMPTY DECK, for whatever reason, was occupied when you trudge up the stairs in an attempt to free yourself from the stuffiness of your quarters.

You make out Seungkwan sitting cross legged on the floors, very carefully pouring himself a bottle of something unmarked into a bowl. Chan is there as well, very meticulously explaining a happening to…Hoshi, who sits by with an interested expression, mouth turned into a frown with his brows furrowed. Chan is using his hands as he continues, unaware of your presence.

“Oh!” Seungkwan calls you out by name, causing the rest of the clique to turn their heads to you. “Come have a drink!”

“What’s this?” Hoshi starts. He’s smiling, but his reddened cheeks give away his very obviously intoxicated state. “Has miss princess decided to grace us with her presence?”

You ignore him, acknowledging Chan when he asks why you were up at this hour as you sit between him and Seungkwan.

“Just needed some air,” you mumble.

“Well,” Hoshi is loud when he spills half the drink out of the cup he was pouring it into. “Air pairs well with rum.”

He holds out a cup of the liquid for you, swaying slightly from the effort of holding it far out towards you.

“I am a lady.” You resist the effort to turn your nose up.

“Okay lady, bottoms up!” he slurs.

When you continue to keep your hands folded, he retracts his hand with what you think is a prominent scowl, but it looks more like a disappointed pout if anything. He takes a dejected sip from the cup.

“Come on, just one!” Seungkwan tries to convince you.

“Leave her alone, Kwan, miss princess is too good to be drinking with pirates,” Hoshi chides.

You aren’t sure if it was meant to be a jab at all, considering the strange switch in behaviour he seems to have adopted as his drunk persona. You watch in silence as he reaches over to plant a big kiss on Seungkwan’s cheek in affection, grabbing his head strongly. He yelps, pushing his captain off with a face.

But regardless of what he meant, the defiance sparked within you anyway, and you find yourself gripping the neck of the poorly dusted bottle that sat in the middle amidst even more bottles, cups and twine. The motion has all eyes on you, even as you bring the bottle to your lips, preparing yourself for one of the dumber things you’ve done.

Locking eyes with Hoshi’s sharp ones over the bottle, you chug it of its remnants, ignoring the fiery burn and the trickles of liquid that trail down the corners of your mouth.

You hear Seungkwan and Chan cheering, Hoshi remaining stoic as he refuses to be the one to look away from above the bottle.

By the time you’ve slammed the bottle back onto the hardwood, you’re struggling to maintain your vision and you’re forced to tear your eyes away from the man that sits across from you, unwavering.

Resisting the urge to vomit, you can only smile weakly at Seungkwan and Chan who are overly excited over your endeavour, clinking their own cups as they down another one in your honour.

It kickstarted your spree in any case as the night commenced, continuing to accept refills as you sip slower than before, savouring the taste that you couldn’t really say you enjoyed. The feeling, however.

Seungkwan and Chan took longer than you’d expected to pass out, noting the way they continued to clink and drink with no regard.

Hoshi seemed to need little to be washed away, something you found yourself silently snorting at, even as both boys continued to snore quietly behind you.

“What’s so funny?” Hoshi asks, taking a sip from his cup.

You snap your head up, drunk and hot. You consider shaking your head to indicate a null, but you can’t say you have much control over yourself at the moment.

“You take so little to get tipsy,” you comment with a little giggle.

“What makes you think I’m drunk?” he asks.

His red face? The uncharacteristic warmth he’d been treating you with all night? Who knows? But right now you ignore his question, zeroed in on something. He’s wearing one of his stupid linen shirts that are always buttoned too low, the ones that make it impossible to keep your eyes on his face.

Your eyes find the distorted slash of tissue that resides on his chest, right over his left peck, right over his heart. You’ve noticed the scar on multiple occasions. Not that he seems to ever try to hide it. You decide to mention it.

“How’d you get that?” you whisper. It feels right to talk like that; the deck is silent, the sea is calm in her regard to pushing the ship where it needs to go. Your legs are pulled up to your chest, cheek on your knees.

He follows your gaze to his scar, coming round to answer you with a drunk, dopey smile on his face. “Got hungry.”

Possible, but you also get the feeling he wasn’t about to give you a straight answer if you pushed anyway. But your gaze remains on his chest, ingraining the ridges of the scar to memory.

And with every moment that passes, it looks less and less like a scary altercation of someone trying to carve his heart out, and more like he may have fallen off his horse while riding. Accidentally cut himself with a steak knife at the supper table. Took a bad blow during a practice sword fight.

And with every moment that passes, the backgrounds of your mind’s pictures turn from the rugged sea to the grassy training grounds of the palace, the hay and brown of the stables, the silver glints of the dining hall. The thuds of rusting cups and cheap sailors rum turn into clinks of wine glasses, Hoshi’s hand wrapped around the stems, skin free of every scar and darkened slash.

And with every moment that passes, you imagine what this deadly, ferocious pirate would look like if his life was a little different. If his life was a little like yours. Would he be able to be a better match against your father, would he have taken every missed opportunity to become a ruler that you only wish you could be? Could he lead a kingdom as well as he leads his beloved band of pirates?

There’s not a thought of what you’re doing in your mind as you find yourself reaching over, not to the bottles that lie empty, but to the pirate captain’s hands, taking his rough calloused palms in your soft, unscarred ones.

He does little to resist, letting his hand fall limp in yours.

“What’s this one?” you ask, tracing over the biggest scar that slashed across his knuckles.

“Piece of wood sticking out of the mast.”

It’s an older scar, clear with the way his skin has settled into the healed wound like it’s always been that way.

“This one?” you ask, tracing over another nick.

“Fell on glass.”

“This one?”

“Punched Mingyu.”

You frown at that, looking up at him and in accusation.

“I apologised,” he defends.

Was it strange that a pirate captain would apologise for assaulting his crew? Slightly, yes. But you liked to think you understood Hoshi a little better than you’d first met him, and that he considered his crew more like his family than anything else.

Never in a million years, in your pirate hating household, would you have thought that the deadliest band of pirates would soon be the ones you’d be sharing drinks with, tracing scars with, feeling somewhat secure being alone with.

Entrusting to save your future with.

You turn his hand over to his palms, now staring at a fresher looking gash that seems to still be healing. It looks painful, the redness yet to fade into its darker hues.

“What about this one?” you ask, being extra careful to not touch the wound.

Hearing him let out a small laughing exhale, you look up.

“Thought you’d recognize your own work.”

And then you remember.

The spray of blood in the air as your dagger made its first ever maim at your hands.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

When you look up from your hunched position, you’re closer to Hoshi than you’d initially thought. He went from an arms length away to brushing shoulders with you, his palm remaining cradled in both of yours.

“Do you regret it?” he asks as he looks at you like he’s gotten lost somewhere in your face.

His breath hits your face in a delicate fan, the smell of alcohol mixing from your own mouth.

Glancing down at his scarring wound, you look back up at him with your lips in a tight line.

“No.”

He smiles, less of disbelief and more of contentment, a pleasant look on his face as he reads your expression.

You felt like you’d passed some kind of test.

“Good.”

And then you’re so close you can barely make out the tip of his nose, his warmth infiltrating your own. You can smell him past the rum, a faint woody scent that makes your head spin. You push up to the alcohol.

Your stomach is on fire as you expect the final push to come, the eager build in your chest becoming near unbearable.

Just as you’re about to flutter your eyes closed, ready to take whatever he might give you, you find his face disappeared.

Hoshi turned his face away, your face infiltrated by the cool breeze once more. Your palms are cooling as his warmth retracts from them as well, leaving you cold and confused.

Blinking, pushing your chin closer to your chest, you attempt to catch your bearings, catch the notes in the air as you feel him move to his feet quickly.

“Get some sleep, it’s late,” he announces in a low, gravelly voice before trudging towards the staircase. He seems to have sobered up.

All that’s left on the deck is your empty palms, the stinging sea spray, and two snoring pirates.

HOSHI SPENT THE REST of the morning trying to sleep off the imminent feeling of spontaneous combustion.

The tingle in his right hand refuses to go away, even when he plunges the darn thing into a freezing bucket of water next to his cot, assuming his wound was acting up.

He sleeps fitfully, the frustration that simmers refuses to let him have a staggering moment of peace. His head is as dense as a whale, throbbing in the seeping light. The sounds of the sea, ones that once brought him calm, were now triggering an irrational reaction from his entire being.

Swinging to his feet is easy, it’s the aftermath of such a reckless action that has him stumbling like a fawn. Slipping into his boots, he thuds to the lower decks, to the storage area where all of the rations are.

And where all of the alcohol is.

He bumps into Minghao on the way down, who’s filling his canteen as he keeps morning watch on deck.

“Go sleep, I’ve got it,” he says to him, and Minghao does little to refute as he makes a beeline for his beloved hammock.

It’s too early for anyone to be awake, despite the afternoon sun that lingers. He takes full advantage of it as he hauls the first crate of rum up to the deck.

There isn’t an inch of hesitation as he lifts the death juice and sends it splashing into the ocean. He stares for a moment as heavy bottles disappear under the water, still full of the very thing he’d shoot his crew for wasting a single drop of.

Even more determined than before, he goes back down into the brig, this time lugging two more crates of rum, all to be met with the same fate, going down to touch the bottom of the ocean.

With every echoing slam of the wood hitting the water, he feels himself freeing.

But you plague him anyway.

Lifting a particularly heavy box, he thinks of how close you had gotten to him on this very deck. How he could breathe in your exhales. How he could feel the tactile of your fingertips tracing over every mauled slash on his hand. How you consumed his mind in ways he couldn’t fathom.

It was the rum. The rum was doing this to him.

At least, that’s what he’d chosen to blame.

Who was he to deny the effect you seemed to have on him?

The answer was that he was a pirate, especially with the way he chalked his muddled brain to not having had a woman around for so, so long.

He’d considered indulging once they reached Port Ash, slipping away for an hour into one of the beaded doors of women ready to give him what he wanted. The thought seemed like an unwanted remedy.

Every solution felt fruitless, a balm that only seemed to make the itch worse. Even as he commits a sin as heinous as feeding perfectly good rum to sea foam, he only does it in the hopes that the sea will take it as a sacrifice, to give him the kind of peace his being has begun to crave.

Hoshi has been moved to insanity.

Even as he feels the cool cylinder of Jun’s revolver on his temple, he pushes the last crate overboard as his final answer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hears Jun ask.

When he turns around, the revolver remains stationary as it now points into the smack middle of his forehead. He has an audience, Mingyu’s face has leftover sleep on it, a mildly horrified look on his face. Chan looks like he could slice his own Captain’s throat open.

“Where’s the rum?” Mingyu asks in an airy voice, disbelief prominent.

“The rum’s gone.”

“Why is the rum gone?”

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he moves Jun’s loaded gun out of his face and makes his way back to his cot downstairs, in no mood to squabble with his too sober crew.

There’s calls of his name that follow him all the way to below the deck, even as he snatches a stray hat on the floor, placing it above his face in the hopes that he was relieved enough to sleep.

It’s snatched away as Mingyu stands above him like an angel of death, his hat in his equally deathly grip.

“Did the spirits possess you?”

“No,” he replies begrudgingly. “But good sense has.”

“Captain,” he hears Chan begin, looking about five seconds away from committing a murder on the seas. “You know I can’t fight sober.”

“Learn.”

“What is this about? Where was the rum at fault?” Jun grits.

Hoshi swings up once again. If Mingyu was an angel of death then he was the king of hell.

But he has no threats left to give, his menacing soul left with the rum. There is only a snarl that turns into him dropping his head, sighing a loud, loud sigh.

He tells his crew a sad affair as he expresses his sorrows like a eulogy. Blaming the rum was stupid, but it was what he had done. And now the fruit of his decisions sit forgotten in the reefs so far below.

His crew is not happy when they find out, in any case.

“But what did the rum do?”

“Kissing beautiful women is part of life’s pleasures!”

“I have half a mind to make you fish it all back up.”

Mingyu has simply crumpled onto the floor in his heartbreak, Chan has his face in his hands. Hoshi doesn’t look up to witness Jun’s reaction.

The crew would get over the lack of alcohol on board, perhaps a morbid brawl or two to help them get by, but what was more concerning was whether it did anything for Hoshi at all.

At the very least, he knows he won’t go around kissing people sober, but when it comes to the matter of the war inside his chest…

A phantom ache throbs across the scar on his chest.

Perhaps his heart would finally be the next to go.

PORT ASH WAS A depraved man’s heaven.

One that could easily become his downfall if he doesn’t play his cards right.

Too covered was suspicious, too much of the opposite was an open invitation to all the drunk and debauched population of Ash; pirates, criminals and councilmen alike. You were comfortable enough in what you were given to put on, to become the perfect blend in the rowdy, barely lit streets of the brothels and bars.

Despite everything, Seungkwan assured you that no one would bother a woman flanked by obvious pirates, for whatever reason that may be. If it were up to you, you would’ve remained on the ship, safe and buried in your quarters, but the threat of an ambush on the docks plagued the crew enough to risk bringing you directly into the dragon’s den.

Jun disappeared quickly, ducking behind an unmarked curtain with a nod to his captain. You could only assume this was where he’d obtain his remaining supplies for the explosives he seemed to be so good at creating. You’ve awoken to multiple median bangs during the night, so you can only assume he knows what he’s doing to a certain extent.

“Jun said it might take a while, so we might have to wait on him a little bit.” Hoshi stands at the front of the group, addressing his crew.

“Spread out, do whatever. Don’t linger, don’t drink yourselves to death—” he sends a pointed look at a shifty Chan and Mingyu, “—and meet back at the ship at six bells or we’ll leave without you.”

The announcement doesn’t seem to apply to you. You’re sandwiched between Hoshi and Seungkwan as they lead you into the throng, to wherever it was they were to pass the time till it was time to return.

If Ash was anything, it was alive. Men and women scatter in all states of drunk and sober, arms latched with their partners for the night as they let the oil lamps carry them to their abode for the night. It’s a wilder Hasry, a scarier Hasry.

The nighttime does nothing to help your nerves, every single face shrouded in the half shadows, seemingly resembling every person you’ve ever met in the Kingdom.

It makes you feel better that both men are pressed against your sides, as strange as the thought sounds in your head. Safe between two pirates.

“Nobody’s tried to kill you yet, I’d call that a record,” Seungkwan comments, but it’s not directed towards you.

Hoshi scowls as you shift your gaze from Seungkwan to him. The usually nonchalant pirate captain looks…cautious. His eyes dart around the crowded streets, like he was looking for familiar faces all the same as you.

Your eyes land on his curled lips and force down a shiver. This was the first time you’d been around him since that drunken night, since you’d promised to never drink again.

He doesn’t mention it, so neither do you.

“Captain Hoshi Kwon? How wonderful of you to show your face again!”

A woman’s voice rings shrill amidst the loud buzz and hollers of the streets, emerging like a white ghost from the throng. Dressed to the nines, face painted intricately, fan clenched in her hand that perches on her hip. She’s joined by another gaggle of women that crown behind her, displaying a rainbow of coloured gown and fans, but holding the same disdained look.

The pirate captain freezes beside you, and you feel Seungkwan’s hand on your back burn.

He seems shaken at the sight of the new woman initially, but puts on a smile you’ve only seen a few times. One that dazzles with his teeth on display, eyes squinted.

“Delilah!” he exclaims, almost too happy to see this mystery woman. “How’ve you been?”

“Who did that? I’d like to send them flowers,” she refers to the scar above Hoshi’s heart.

“Jellyfish don’t really like me, learned that the hard way.”

His answer seems to only annoy her. Delilah has a wicked snarl on her face, threat in her stance. “When was the last time I saw you?”

“Uh,” Hoshi stumbles.

“The Crowded Inn, was it? When I fell asleep to a promise and woke up to an empty bed?”

“Our dear captain seems to have thrown memory at sea,” one of the girls behind her calls out, followed by a collective giggle.

Hoshi looks cornered, at a loss for words as he attempts to save face. Regaining his prior easygoing expression, he continues.

“There’s no promises after I’ve had a drink or two, you know that, Delilah.” It scares you a little how easily he can inject all the sugar and honey in the world directly into his words, flirting his way out of the predicament.

Except, she doesn’t seem to be buying it, because as soon as the words leave Hoshi’s lips, you hear a loud thwack and a blur of colour. You gasp before you can help it, covering your mouth in shock.

There’s a reddenning mark on his cheek in the shape of a hand. Hoshi remains face scrunched, coming round, hand slowly coming up to touch his no doubt stinging cheek.

Your reaction seems to have roused this woman, because she sends you nothing but a look laced with pure venom, completely ignoring Seungkwan who stands aside doing nothing to help his captain.

“Where’d you pick this one up?” She asks, her fan now shucked open, fanning herself even in the pleasant weather. Her pale face, red lips, dark eyes all remain on your shabby form, a hint of a smirk on her face. “Is she as disappointing of a performer as she looks?”

That seems to do it, as you watch Hoshi’s facade of a cheeky bed trotter image drop to something with more depth.

“Delilah,” he says, warning in his voice.

“Ah! Looks like I’ve struck a nerve.”

You watch Hoshi take a step forward and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the crowd of people that continue to pass and linger, reminding yourself of the repercussions of causing a scene in a place like this. Turning slightly, you attempt to push Seungkwan to do something.

“Captain,” Seungkwan says, a casual but careful voice. A starting attempt at calming things down.

“That’s enough,” Hoshi says, ignoring Seungkwan’s warning. “Quit pretending you weren’t warming that privateer’s bed right after I left.”

There was no reason for you to say anything, do anything. But when you find yourself pushing forward, leaving Seungkwan’s hold, you can’t stop. Perhaps he’d have punched Seungkwan, his own crew, if he’d done the same as you were right now, but you’d like to think you know the pirate captain enough to assume he’d react less so with you.

There’s a shift in the woman’s jaw as she watches you wrap your arm around one of Hoshi’s, trying your absolute best to mimic a bright smile.

“We should go,” you announce, the stretch of your cheeks unfamiliar even to you. You turn to catch Hoshi’s stare, he’s looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “Right, Hosh?”

“Go on then, Captain. Your little princess awaits.”

You flinch without meaning to. Princess.

This woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about, at least, that’s what you recite in your head as your trio goes back to pushing walking through the streets. She doesn’t know who you are.

“She doesn’t know,” you hear Hoshi say under his breath, but you hear it loud as day.

You exhale, “I know.”

“Sorry about her. And him, “ Seungkwan says, before turning to Hoshi. “I told you not to get involved with that one, she’s a menace.”

You’ve let go of Hoshi’s arm at this point, now simply watching him attempt to calm himself down as you walk. He doesn’t reply to Seungkwan’s jab.

You feel strange, a feeling you can’t exactly pinpoint. You’re too aware of yourself, in a way that’s different than just the fear of being recognized. Shifting your eyes to your attire, your usual linen skirts and corset, an added grey shawl for your own anxious sanity.

The woman’s voice rings in your head. Shabby.

“You didn’t let her get to you, did you? She’s always been vile, she can’t live without being a bitch about something every five minutes.”

Seungkwan’s grumbling goes in one ear and out the other as you don’t answer. He seems to read you better than you thought he could. He sighs.

“Congratulations Delilah, you’ve made a princess feel shabby,” he says in a sarcastically chipper voice, one that earns a hiss from his captain for being too loud.

Before you know it, you’re being led down a flight of stone stairs and you’re informed that it was an underground pub of sorts. Something about his undertone told you it was probably more, but you ignore it as the darkness is let alight beyond the musty curtains of the basement entrance.

It’s a sizable expanse, a bar on one of the long ends of the hall, busy and overflowing with mugs, jugs and plates. Wooden tables and chairs, almost all of them occupied by patrons of all kinds that do nothing to regulate their volumes. It smells like a rancid mixture of alcohol and people, but you push past as you find yourself seated on one of the wooden seatings in the corner.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Seungkwan announces as he walks up to the bar. You watch as he’s greeted by nearly every passing customer, all smiles.

Hoshi sits beside you like a begrudged toddler, arms crossed and glaring at nothing.

“Didn’t realise how popular you were around these parts,” you comment, scanning the crowd in excruciating detail, blaming force of habit as you do.

He clicks his tongue, and you can’t see him, but you can almost visualise his grimace.

A too clean councilman that has his hands on the upper thighs of an outlandishly dressed woman. A man so grimy and dusty who has nothing but an array of empty jugs for company. Another flock of fan yielding, hair towering, gown exploding women that swarm a man you cannot see past the bodies.

It’s organised chaos, immoral yet is the only thing that seems to work on this island.

Another entrance is being made from the curtains that block the pub from the outside, you steer your eyes automatically.

Looks like he could be a pirate, beyond just the dark hair and chiselled face. He has a girl under his arm, a pretty brunette that giggles at his side as he whispers something in her ear. She’s wearing something similar to you, a corset and a linen skirt, and a pirate's hat that’s too big for her that’s perched on her head.

Subconsciously, you feel better about being so severely underdressed.

Hoshi sits up next to you and you glance over your shoulder to assess his shift. He’s also staring at the couple that’s just walked in. You briefly wonder if this was going to be another showdown.

The man catches Hoshi’s eye from across the room, and you notice how his smile falls a little.

“Who’s that?” you ask quietly.

Your question is answered when the man himself begins to walk towards your table, leaving the girl at his table, a confident strut as he makes his path.

Hoshi rises next to you before you realise what’s happening, and you have the sudden urge to call out for Seungkwan.

“Why are you getting up?” you hiss. He doesn’t answer, yet again.

“Captain,” the man greets.

“Captain,” Hoshi replies.

Captain. So he was a pirate.

“Hm. That’s not gonna go away, is it?” The man comments with a smirk, eyes trained on the scar on Hoshi’s chest.

“Wonder who’s fault that is.” Hoshi’s voice is levelled.

Oh. Was that scar his doing?

“I hope you won’t mind if I don’t apologise?” The smirk on his face remains as he continues, motioning towards his own cheek, eyes trailed on the side of Hoshi’s face. “Looks like you’ve got enough enemies without me trying to carve your heart out.”

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he grimaces, a frustrated blink and a hand that runs over his sore cheek.

“Delilah was quite adamant on having your head on a pike after that,” the stranger adds with a chuckle of his own, before trailing his eyes behind Hoshi. Right where you sat watching the two men interact. “Perhaps she does have some consideration left.”

“Delilah cared more about looking like a fool than she ever did me leaving. You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, Wonwoo?”

There’s a flash of irritation on Wonwoo’s face at the jog of a memory. “Handled it better than you did. At least I wasn’t walking around with a handprint on my face.”

“No, no you weren’t. Just a leash around your neck,” Hoshi’s own eyes darted towards the girl seated at Wonwoo’s table, a silent jab.

Wonwoo’s face morphs into something a little more dangerous than just irritation, his jaw tightening as he takes a step forward. They’re nearly nose to nose.

To your surprise, Wonwoo smiles. “I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all. My mistake.”

For the second time that day, you spring from your position in the shadowed table, giving up on praying for Seungkwan’s arrival. The man seems to have disappeared somewhere along the barline, and you curse both the men that stand before you for their horrid temper management skills.

You don’t have to do much, however, as you find Wonwoo pulling away by himself. At least, you thought so, finding a hand wrapped around his upper arm. The brunette spares neither of you a glance as she simply murmurs furiously under her breath, hand now on her lover's chest as she pushes him to move back from the brewing altercation.

Hoshi doesn’t seem to be breaking, remaining standing with his eyes shooting daggers at the man that’s reluctant to walk away from a budding fight.

Being gentle wasn’t going to work right now, and you weren’t feeling so soft anyway. Instead, you reach over to grab his wrist tight, positively yanking him back as hard as you could.

“Wh—ow!”

He slams into the seat next to you, deadly eye contact with the other captain broken as he winces at the impact. When you glance up, Wonwoo is gone.

“You said to blend in, how is this blending in?!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You were two seconds away from drawing knives,” you hiss. “We’re in a pub, for goodness’ sake!”

Despite your irritation, and with the newfound information that rests in the back of your head, it’s difficult to keep your eyes off the scar that stands against the lamplight of the pub.

Someone did try to carve his heart out.

Context for an altercation that could lead to something like that remains unknown, and you doubt you’d ever get a straight answer from him if you asked—as always. Besides, you forget they’re pirates.

Hoshi goes back to simply ignoring you as he festers in his grumbled silence. Choosing to keep his arms folded and staring straight ahead. You make no moves to entertain him.

“I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all.”

This mystery captain’s left you with enough ammo to keep you wondering for days. What on earth was that?

As if Hoshi’s (and yours) mood wasn’t sour enough, your attention is brought to the front of the room where another entrance is being made, quite loudly so. You very quickly recognise the gowns and fans and shrieking giggles of women as Delilah and her posse.

You note the woman herself is nowhere near.

“Fucking hell,” you hear Hoshi swear under his breath. He’s sitting up, eyes darting around the room, almost like he was trying to find a hiding spot. You doubt he's too excited over another conversation of similar nature, let alone a matching mark on the other side of his face.

The women hadn't seen him yet, and were approaching far too quickly for him to get up and leave anywhere to hide. A quick scan of the room yourself and you realise there’s only one remaining option.

They didn’t seem to recognise you for your title before, and you assume the current extent stays within simply being another seductress in the pirate captain’s company. You push the sickening feeling away as you realise you might have to play the part.

So you do the sensible thing and push Hoshi’s head under the wooden table, forcing him to leave his seat and crouch beside your legs. In a split second, you’ve lifted your linen skirt and draped it over his hunched body.

This would have to do.

And it seems to have been the right move because as soon as the man is out of sight, you find the opposite end of the table more occupied than you ever would have been comfortable with.

“Oh! You’re that Hoshi’s girl aren’t you?” one of the women who's made themselves comfortable asks, fan in front of her mouth and nose as you note her sharp eyes.

“Uh,” you laugh nervously.

“Oh, nothing to be embarrassed about,” she assures, a snap in her voice.

Another woman decked out in a green ensemble speaks in a teasing voice, “We’re all quite accustomed to his…mannerisms.”

The table erupts in a fit of giggles and cackles and you’re forced to laugh weakly along, hyper aware of the man that sits under your skirt right below. You try not to flinch as you feel his clothes brush against the side of your calf.

“So, tell us,” she says, taking your hands in hers, a contact you really wish you could break free of. If only you weren't quite as terrified of the women seated at your table. “How far along in heaven has this man taken you?”

She spares you an answer as you gape with square shoulders. She fans herself in a whimsy as she looks like she’s reminiscing. “He’s almost as good of a pirate as he is a beast in bed, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.”

“Quite generous with the tongue too, if you know what I mean.”

The pirate captain’s breath hits your bare knees in its own fan, goosebumps almost immediately erupting across the expanse of your skin. You fail to suppress a shudder.

Goodness, this man stays busy.

“Oh look at her, she’s gotten all flustered!” one of them laughs. You take it as an opportunity to slip your hands out of the tight grasps of the bold ladies. “It seems he’s taken to a newer liking. How innocent.”

These women seem to like talking more than they wish to hear a word from you, of course, you couldn’t tell them anything they already didn’t know. Of which, according to their interests, you knew nothing of it anyway.

“Don’t get too attached now, we’re all mere expendables in this busy pirate’s—”

Slam!

Rum. You smell rum.

It’s like you’ve been transported back onto the main deck, the smell of rum mixed with….with—

“Ladies!” Seungkwan announces, slamming bottles of alcohol on the table with a force unnecessary. “Funny seeing you again.”

For a moment you may have even thought Hoshi had clambered up to the table to announce himself, and you feel a hand fly down to your skirts.

He’s still there, head now actively leaning against your knee. You pray the man hasn’t fallen asleep as you attempt to greet Seungkwan.

“Took you long enough,” you grit through a sickly sweet smile.

With your hand somewhere on Hoshi’s upper back, you guide him with you as you make space for Seungkwan next to you.

“The—oh!” Seungkwan is quick to notice the breathing lump under your skirt as he sits himself next to you, but manages to compose himself with a cough. “Long line. What were you ladies talking about?”

One of them smiles big as ever, slowly lifting themselves from their seats, “We were just…leaving. Wonderful speaking with you!”

And with that, you can finally feel your breath coming back to you, the table significantly lighter with the lack of colours, perfume and humans.

Releasing a long exhale, you let your shoulders drop and lean backwards.

“Are you going to explain why the captain is hidden under your skirts?”

With a jolt, you're forced to consider his presence under the table, scanning the room to find the women gone from the pub altogether.

Hoshi emerges from under the fabric, and shuffles over to the other side of the table to sit down, bringing an instinctive hand towards the fresh bottles on the table. Halting, he instead reaches for the jug of water on the edge and pours himself a helping.

You refuse to look at him. Refuse to acknowledge the red in his face. Refuse to acknowledge the sudden cold under your skirt.

Seungkwan’s stare is burning holes into the side of your head, even as he uncorks one of the bottles as an offer. You also refuse; both to look him in the eye and the drink itself.

Bottle to his lips, he moves his glare to his captain, who sits nursing his water like it was something stronger.

“I haven’t gotten an answer yet,” he finally breaks.

Instinct has your eyes lifting to meet Seungkwan’s inquisitive one’s, answers frozen in your throat.

“Why are you asking like you don’t know who they were?” Hoshi snaps.

“I can understand not wanting a matching handprint on your other cheek!” he refutes. “But how do you decide the solution is to dive into yet another woman’s skirts?”

Your only solace to the heat that prickles your body is the way Hoshi himself flushes.

Seungkwan sighs as he takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Hoshi’s still red cheek. “I’m starting to think you deserved it.”

Hoshi makes a motion like he’s about to send his half full cup flying into Seungkwan’s face but stops short. Perhaps he’s realising he’s become the problem child for today.

You contemplate telling Seungkwan about Wonwoo and the near pub brawl you would’ve had to deal with, but decide it to be a story for another time. Besides, you weren’t about to risk mentioning his name while it was still fresh.

You realise just how unstable this island can turn a person; not just the pirate captain.

Because as you look at Hoshi on the other side of the table, you find how difficult it is to look away.

“YOU NEED TROUSERS.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t look so scandalised, you’ve been prancing around with pirates for goodness’ sake.”

Seungkwan haggles with the stall owner over the price of padded coats, blankets and an array of other things the crew would need. The journey was only going to take the ship further North, and it was only going to get colder as you neared the icy water of the Green Islands.

Seungkwan’s suggestion to buy you trousers came out of the blue, but it seems you couldn’t refuse when you find both Hoshi and Chan (who joined you after he was tired of the others) agreeing.

“You can’t possibly stay warm in linen,” Chan argues. “Trousers are the only way you won’t freeze your limbs off.”

“Too much airflow in a skirt,” Seungkwan agrees, eyes closed, head shaking solemnly. “Captain would know.”

“Hm?” Chan looks at him confused.

“Fine!” You snatch the folded brown lump in Seungkwan’s hands. You keep talking in a louder than necessary voice in the hopes that Chan won’t ask any more questions. “I’ll wear them.”

“Perfect! Now we need to get you boots.”

“I have boots!”

“Warm boots!”

“But—”

It was difficult to argue with Seungkwan once he’s got his mind set on something. But that paired with the loud noises of the Ash port market was sending pulsing throbs across the sides of your head. You simply surrender as Seungkwan leaves Hoshi to pay the vendor before pushing you across the street to where a stall held boots and slippers for sale.

In the midst of his bargaining, Chan had disappeared into the throng, returning with a steaming plate of something that smelled doughy and delicious.

“What is that?” you ask as Chan shoves the tray in front of you.

“Whatever they are, they’re delicious. Try one.”

He was right, one bite of the warm, soft goodness covered in syrup had you taking a moment to ponder. It melts in your mouth, barely registering the rest of the group scarfing down the tray like it was their last.

“God, you can never get them this good on the mainland,” Seungkwan cries. “We’ll get another tray before we leave.”

Speaking of leaving, you turn to ask about the time.

“How many bells has it been?” you ask Seungkwan whose cheeks bulge with the amount of dough balls he’s stuffed in. He looks like a child caught stealing when you ask.

“Oh—”

“Five,” Hoshi answers instead, eyes remaining on the pile of goods that he’s gathered to remain in his line of sight. You suppose there was no delivery system here like in Hasry, and you doubt how secure it is to be walking around with a pile of supplies on this island in particular.

“You need to hurry, I told the rest of them to meet at six bells.”

Seungkwan’s quick to wrap up, but not before shooing Chan away for another tray of those sweet dough balls for the journey. You manage to whisper to him to bring extra.

By the time Seungkwan’s done with the last vendor, dropping the giant coil of rope onto the already large pile of supplies, you begin to wonder how you were supposed to get all of this to the ship.

“Shove those in a bag and carry some of this,” Hoshi says to Chan who has returned, brandishing another steaming tray of the sweet treat. He grumbles as he complies, complaining about how the sticky sweet syrup was going to ruin the inside of the pack.

You look a little lost as you attempt to help, all three men grabbing their share of the load.

“Let me hold something,” you attempt, reaching for a wrapped pile.

You watch as Hoshi snatches it before you can grab it for yourself. “Keep an eye out instead.”

“But—”

“Here.” Chan drops the pack with the now rolling dough balls inside. “Snacks for the walk too, how lucky.”

There’s a light push from behind you as Seungkwan urges you to move forward, face slightly obstructed with the tower he’s holding in his arms. “Go on, straight and then left. We’re close to the port anyway.”

You’re left feeling slightly useless as you remain caged with Chan in front while Seungkwan and Hoshi follow you from behind. The walk is short, but crowded nonetheless.

It’s only later in the night, which means the crowds in the bustling streets and alleys of Ash only multiply, clear with the case you’re pushed into right now. You pause in front of a particularly busy patch, needing to take a breath before following Chan’s fearless footsteps.

It’s immediate suffocation, bodies on all sides as you try your best to not lose Chan in the midst of the crowds. Perhaps they were right to keep your hands mostly unoccupied—it would’ve been impossible for you to not completely lose yourself here.

Gaining a rhythm of walking with the crowd before moving slightly against to near your exit, you’ve almost made your way out.

Just as you find the bend leading to the open air of the port, you hear a distinct rip sound from behind you.

If your skirt was airy before, it was a windstorm now.

Craning your neck at an impossible angle, you find the bottom of your skirt ripped so high up the back of your knees are out for the population of Ash to see.

Gasping loudly, you halt in your tracks. A horrible mistake, because you’re only being bumped and shoved by the evermoving bodies.

“Why are you stopping?” Seungkwan hisses, before realising what’s just happened. “Uh oh.”

“I…”

Both Seungkwan and Hoshi push past the throng making their way out of the crowd, leaving you there frazzled and practically naked

You barely consider that they’ve just left you there as you scramble to cover your calves with what overlapping fabric you had left, registering the threats and curses being sent your way for being the idiot that stops in what is essentially a fast paced parade.

The rational part of your brain checks out, refusing to consider that perhaps the back of your knees were the least scandalous thing this island has seen, especially after the conversations you’ve had in your short time here. But alas, a few months of the pirate life wasn’t enough to push the princess out of you, and you stand like a paralysed fool about to get stampeded.

Just as you’re convinced you’d die here, embarrassed and utterly panicked, you feel a body press up from behind you.

It was too close to be a bystander pushing past, which was saying something since most of these patrons were practically climbing over your form.

You whip your head back to look at the person who’s invading your space more than usual, hands tight around your upper arms in an effort to push you forward.

Hoshi stands behind you as his body covers the ripped damage of your skirt, eyes trained in front to survey the crowd.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he grunts, pushing to get you to move your legs. You stumble in the beginning, still not registering anything.

He was helping, but with the way you can feel every dip and shallow of his chest and abdomen pressing into you, you can’t help but think he’s only made matters for your already speeding heart worse.

Your legs move automatically, letting him steer you wherever. Trying not to think about how his entire front is pressed onto your back like a mould. He’s so close you can even smell him despite the crowd.

Like your head isn’t spinning enough.

By the time you’ve exited the main rush of people, you’ve begun counting your minutes.

Emerging to the bend that leads straight to the docks, you find the rest of the crew already there, running sprints to get all the new supplies to the ship that remained a few yards away.

Despite having left the crowd behind, your exposure remained, which meant you’d have to be tailed all the way to the ship. You curse your luck as you watch Jun quirk an inquisitive brow at the both of you stuck like you’ve been glued.

You pray you never have to show your face here again, because the looks don’t seem to stop until you’ve reached the ship. Perhaps the crowd where nobody was paying attention was better.

In any case, you respond to Minghao’s questioning noise with half shut eyes and a joint sprint towards the stairs leading to the lower decks.

Hoshi keeps behind until you’ve gotten to the heavenly doors of your quarters, springing inside before Hoshi could register looking lower.

It’s silent for a few sparing moments as you breathe tightly, convincing yourself that you were alone and uncompromised. You're pressed up against the door, almost like you’re afraid the entirety of Ash would barge through to witness your calves.

“I’ll handle the boys, don’t worry about that,” you hear Hoshi speak from the other side of the door.

There’s nothing you could do other than slide down the door in a beyond dramatic fashion, head in your hands as you grip the strands like you were moments away from ripping them off. Every instance of your upbringing flashes before your eyes, every crack of your mentor’s canes on your thighs and calves, every waking pain in your back from the impossible postures, every bruise and nick on your feet from being stepped on and trodden over.

Despite the ridiculous nature of the situation, you feel your eyes grow heavy with tears.

Was this panic?

Taking in the circumference of your cramped quarters; the unmade bed, the strewn clothes, the thrown covers.

It was nothing. Yet, at the same time, it was everything.

Amidst the pile, there’s a glint of metal where your knife lies on your nightstand, the tiniest smear of uncleaned blood on the blade. From your position on the floor, you find the half broken lamp discarded under your bed, shunned from your sight. The desk in the corner is empty, save for the staggering mountain of letters from your father.

The only suggestion of normalcy, yet the one you itch to be rid of the most.

The letter opener necklace that was exchanged for the ring on your finger sits warm against the valley of your breasts, a reminder of the first weapon you plucked from this very room. The weapon that began it all.

The smell of gunpowder fills your nose, the forever echoing bang of Jun’s revolver as you took that child sailor’s life with your own two hands.

You lay like that, on the cold floors of your quarters. Refusing to touch the court appointed comfort of your bed, for fear of reigniting the guilt with a fire stoked.

You aren’t sure if you sleep, but you do dream.

LIDS OPEN, EYES WIDE, but nothing to perceive.

It’s a pit of obsidian, unrelenting and unproposing in its press against your lungs.

The familiar ball of prickling embers makes itself known in the pit of your stomach, rising and penetrating your senses in ways worse than even the darkness. It's alarm, dread and swivet; the concoction sticking to the walls of your lungs, throat and mouth.

And then there’s pressure.

Something envelopes you from behind, an unidentified lump that pulls you into something warm and sturdy. There’s another pressure at your stomach, another pull keeps you grounded between a wall built just for you.

The air is perfumed, something beyond a flower or an incense. You know what it is.

And then you're falling, slipping into nothingness and landing between sheets warm enough to suggest you never left.

The scent remains, and this time, Hoshi towers over your frame in something that might have been domineering. But with the distinct feeling of a wet mouth over your collarbone, a small whisper of words unintelligible, you melt like frost in front of a fireplace.

“What?” you question his muttering, hands hovering just above the expanse of his covered back, barely touching.

He rears his head like a gentle beast, wet lipped and zeroed in on your face. His response comes in the form of his lips enclosing your own.

He tastes like rum.

OPENING THE DOOR TO an expectant Seungkwan, you only wave off his reference to you looking like you have one foot in death’s mouth, grabbing the stack of clothes and boots he delivers.

He leaves you alone, something you cannot decide is a blessing or a curse as you take in the unchanged state of your quarters.

Sleep gives you nothing but more troubling images to keep your mind utterly occupied, so you take what you can control in consciousness.

You drop the clothes on a cleaner corner, yanking one of the thinner pairs of dark brown trousers to change into from your still torn and tattered skirt.

Moving inside the room, you pick the littered papers, ropes and rags on the floor, swerving and crouching with more vigour than necessary.

Hoshi’s scent sticks to you.

Grabbing the pile of letters on your desk, you shove them in a sack and throw them under the bed.

Hoshi holds you like he might die if he doesn’t.

Ripping the covers off the bed, you fold them into a giant ball of fabric, hoisting it into your arms as you strut to the door.

Hoshi’s lips have left a bruise on your chest.

The late morning sun combats the chill in the air, the salt sticking to your hair.

Hoshi’s mouth is hot and wet on yours.

Hoshi stands before you, manning the wheel on the deck.

You halt in your tracks.

He turns to register you with your arms full and shielding most of your body.

Clearing his throat, he states, “You’re up.”

Eyes darting, you respond. “I’m up.”

Somehow, his presence makes you forget the audacity of your own brain to stew the play it did. Depositing the sheets on the floor of the deck, you attempt to look for a reasonably long coil of rope.

In your pointed distraction, you miss how distracted the pirate captain has also become.

His elbows, initially perched on the wheel, slip in a comical manner, unintentionally pushing the wheel to the right.

You don’t expect the minor lurch of the ship, landing on your bum with a yelp when you lose your footing all of a sudden. Your elbows take a worse hit, spiking pain across your upper limbs at the hard contact.

His hands are pulling you to your feet before you can register what’s happened, coming round as you open your eyes to an open mouthed captain.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, dusting off your brand new pants as you move past him, refusing to make eye contact.

Picking up a coil of rope, you bring one of the ends to a mast on the end of the ship, stepping on a crate to tie it around the pole. By the time you’re stepping off the crate to tie the other end to the opposite mast, you find it already done, the pirate captain tightening the knot from across the ship.

He meets your eyes for a moment, before you step in the direction of your piled sheets, breathing in a heavy inhale.

Untangling the mess, you pull them over to the suspended rope, throwing the sheets over with a grunt. You’d only ever seen the palace maids do this when they’d beat the carpets to oblivion, dusting the ages of dirt.

“I just…”

When you turn around, the pirate captain is closer than you anticipated, hands encased around a smaller slab of wood. He trails off when you turn to face him, like he hoped he could speak to the back of your head instead.

You take an instinctive step back, putting space between the both of you. You bring your expectant eyes up to him.

“I just wanted to tell you to ignore what happened at Ash.”

You flush, stuttering, embarrassed at your previous predicament all over again. “Oh, um—”

“Wait no!” he drops the wood onto the floor, hands flying as he waves them all over, seemingly as flushed as you are. “I meant—what Delilah and the others said. I just– they’re horrendous gossips—”

“What are you trying to say Hoshi?”

He falters.

“I’m trying….” he exhales. “There’s nothing on my roster. Nobody. You aren’t expendable or disposable or whatever it was she said, you aren’t a used rag—”

“What am I then?”

The question is tumbling out of your mouth before you can help it, stoned jaw and tight fist.

“What?”

“What am I then? If I’m not expendable or disposable, what am I then?”

“You’re…”

Taking a step forward, you move back to your initial spot, closer to him, chests almost touching.

“I’m?”

“You’re a princess and I’m a pirate!” he blurts, his previously apprehensive face morphing into something intense.

You huff a short breath, an incredulous stretch to your lips. Of course.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask in a low voice.

“Like what it is,” he heaves, chest inflating and deflating like he’d run the course of the deck about thrice. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

If your ears weren’t deceiving you, it sounded more like he was trying to convince no one but himself.

You take a step closer as he takes a step back.

His face is scrunched ever so slightly, eyes blinking quicker than normal. The sunlight blurs the edges of his features; his usually sharp, stinging stare is hazy, the slant of his nose curvier, the ridges of his lips blending into your muddled perception of his face.

The only thing dividing you is the silence, the bore of your stare and the war in your mind. You cannot speak for him, but you also aren’t a fool.

“Everything they say about you is wrong.”

“What?” he asks again.

“You don’t have a deadly bone in your body. You’re a coward that hides behind his knife and his big bad pirate ship that you can’t even defend.”

For once, he remains speechless while you persist.

“To think we spent all these years trying to subdue you, push you to the edge,” you can feel the anger seep into the hottest centre of your bones. “All for you to be some scared sailor all along.”

“Your father ruined my life,” he says. It’s a strange voice he uses, one that’s somewhere between disbelief and a warning.

“And mine with it.”

He laughs, blinking rapidly, backing away even further, running a hand through his hair. Coming around, he looks over his shoulder. He looks like the man you met the day your life fell apart, a strut in his step that runs your blood cold.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with you simply wishing to spite the man?” He walks back over. “Prance around with the filthy pirate he hates just for the fun of it?”

“Oh and you haven’t just been itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess.”

Your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, spewing the accusation with a vigour you never realised you possessed. Lies. Lies. Lies.

This was your own deteriorating mind’s doing. You were the debauched princess painting lewd pictures of a pirate in your mind. It was your heart that couldn’t stand being near the man for longer than necessary. It was you that had the scripture somewhere in your chest, the tiniest speck of a daydream, that perhaps this inner turmoil didn’t end with just you.

Did you want to be another woman he doesn’t have to remember?

You don’t know. All your mind registers is the unbearable twist in your chest, and how it feels like you can’t do nothing about it.

You’re used to getting your way, and you hate that your mind seems to have drifted away from you.

Hoshi’s expression is nowhere in your mind, too preoccupied with sucking in inhales and trying not to begin spiralling right on the main deck.

“You’re projecting.”

Eyes snapping up like he’s proposed to sink the ship itself, you feel yourself hit a mental wall. And a physical one as you feel the brush of the suspended sheets against your hair, having taken an unconscious step back.

He’s cornered you. Yet again.

“Everything about you screams vulnerable,” he says, moving closer. “Not very sharp to show in front of a pirate.”

“Hoshi.” A warning. A sharp, hurtling sting of fear.

“What? Big bad pirate too emotionally removed? Beloved princess trapped and defenceless on unfamiliar lands?”

He’s moving closer, too close.

“I take it back,” he says. “Perhaps drunken Ash does speak the truth—”

Not a familiar plane on his face, like the pirate king had absolved a long held mask. His eyes mortified you, his stance was a walking threat.

Despite the morning sun, the cave of the hung sheets, the shadows of the high masts and the towering gloom of the pirate captain creates enough darkness to throw a shadow in your mind.

It’s like the day his crew dropped on the deck for the very first time. The emotions you wished you’d never have to feel again.

“Stop.” A whisper.

“Itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess—”

“Do not move any closer!” you shout, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisting the suspended sheets so hard you can feel your fingernails dig into your palms. Scarring.

The world halts, and you feel the darkness beyond your eyelids, lighten. The air is forgiving, cool and blowing.

When you open your eyes, you’re alone.

THE WAR ROOM LOOKS the same, but everything has changed.

For one thing, you were significantly more bundled up with coats and lined boots. The cold of the green islands wasn’t the creeping frost you’d anticipated. You simply woke up one day without feeling in your fingers and toes, fog in the air as you breathed.

The coat wasn’t nearly as thick as it needed to be, but you doubt you would’ve found anything better even at the ports. The green islands weren’t meant for life.

“You need to get into the hold unnoticed, and as quickly as possible,” Minghao says. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen after the exchange is made but we know we can’t help you once you’re on that ship.”

Clenching your jaw, you nod tersely. It was high stakes, you couldn’t hurt any of the soldiers to keep it clean; planting a bomb where a King resides was difficult—princess or not.

“Getting you out of the wreckage is our job,” Hoshi says, and you pointedly refuse to look at him. You weren’t quite convinced. “We’ll be on Tigress by the time the bomb goes off. Leave nothing of importance on this thing, we’ll be blowing it up too.”

“You need to get in the water as soon as that bomb goes off,” Jun says. “Their priority is gonna be you and your father. You need to make sure they can’t find you when they realise the ship’s sinking.”

The ship the King should be transported in was the same as the very naval vessel you sat in right now.

“They might be on one of the smaller ships,” you say.

“Why?”

“You know what the ships that hold royals look like, they aren’t risking you having that advantage.”

If your father was bringing out all the guns of deception to take down these pirates once and for all—which you don’t doubt he was—every move you were about to make was based on assumptions. Assumptions that might as well cost this entire crew’s heads.

“Do you know what those ships look like?” Minghao asks.

“I’ve only been on them a few times, but never in the hold,” you say. “I think I’ll figure it out well enough, they’re all the same more or less.”

There’s a blanket of silence, a quiet regard to how utterly unprepared all of you were. Limited information and the most important man’s head at the butt of the target; your bow pulled too taut, too wobbly, your arrow too blunt.

“Are you sure we can’t risk shooting a couple of ‘em in the head?” Chan asks from across the room, running a tired hand across his face.

Sighing, you ignore the burst of fog erupting from your mouth, answering, ��I can convince an entire Kingdom their King drowned, but I don’t know if I stop them from trying to find his body. Imagine their surprise if they find a supposedly drowned man with a bullet in his head.”

“It’s fine,” Hoshi interrupts, eyes downcast and arms folded. He leans against the wall of the war room and you can’t help it when your mind flashes to that stormy night. Your hands finding refuge on his chest, the heat of the moment.

Nose flaring, you look away, the rage hurtling up your throat like vomit.

“We’ll just have to figure it out. Stay vigilant, we all know what’s at stake. We all know what we have to do,” he continues, a glance around the inhabitants of the room.

Something about it almost insinuates an underlying question of trust, a confirmation to sweep an unanswering room.

“The bomb’s done,” Jun says, and heat crawls up your entire being. “I made a couple extras, I’m gonna chuck ‘em out into the water for a test and that’ll be it.”

Somewhere on this ship lies the bomb that would kill your father, and if you didn’t do your job like you were supposed to, it might as well kill you all.

YOU LEFT YOUR SOUL on your bedside table the moment Seungkwan entered your quarters with a rapt knock, informing you that the ship was nearing the rendezvous point.

It had only been a few hours since that meeting in the war room, and it felt like only a week since this had all begun.

Seungkwan invites himself in as he continues to talk. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it to calm you down or not, but you appreciate it regardless.

“Keep those trousers on and make sure you look good. You have to look like we cared while we kept you prisoner,” he says, and you can’t help but smile just a little. “Take anything important—pocket it, give it to us. We’re not gonna see this ship after we’re done.”

The idea is strange, that your home for so many months would soon be forgotten, resting on the frozen ocean bed for eternity. You think of what you wish to keep, eyeing the stack of letters on the desk. You won’t be able to keep them on you if you were going to be jumping into the ocean at some point.

Collecting the smaller pile, you hand them to Seungkwan. “You might have to take a dip in the ocean too, but at least you may have a chance to skip that bit if luck’s on your side. Keep these for me?”

Seungkwan smiles as he takes the stack of letters, pressing them to fit inside his coat. “Aren’t these all from your father?”

“Yes, but…” you trail off. “I’d like to remember them in case I forget why I did what I’m about to do.”

Seungkwan stands in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face. “You know this can’t work unless we trust one another. All of us. The entire crew.”

“I trust you,” you say. “Pirates are impatient. If you wanted me gone I wouldn’t be here.”

He sighs, almost like he was dissatisfied with your answer. With a laugh you ask, “Did you want me to say no?”

“No, it’s just,” he starts. “I wasn’t going to bring it up but, since we don’t have time…I don’t know what’s going on with you and Hoshi but…”

You stiffen at the mention of his name.

“I need to make sure you aren’t about to do something rash because of him.”

Your corset lies on the sheets, and you snatch it off, a bite to your movements.Your coat is already off, your linen shirt is the only thing that covers your upper body

“It was my mistake. I misunderstood. I won’t be letting it affect anything tonight.” You push the loosened corset over your head, too frustrated to unlace it and lace it back up. Your fingers are freezing cold, even too much for your palms to bear as they come in inevitable contact.

Beyond yourself, you continue to grit through your chattering teeth, the pulses of irritation in your brain only encouraging you to spill. Turning around, back now facing Seungkwan, you fiddle with the strings on your corset as you rant.

“I can’t say the same for him, but you can ask.” Your arms are bent at a strange angle, but you attempt to make the loops and knots anyway. Having never had to do this by yourself ever, you’d found a practice after your peculiar situation. You were alright, but the cold was making it near impossible to simply loop the string through the existing holes.

“He seems to have a lack of emotional control, of course, you’d know, but I can’t say I find it too charming,” your grunting front he effort as you speak.

Seungkwan seems to have noticed your struggle because you feel a pair of warmer hands replace yours, unlacing the loop you’d just made only to loop it again, tighter this time. He takes the liberty to tie the final knot, tighter than you’d usually have it but you’re too busy to correct him.

“I don’t think I need to explain what happened, your captain seems to be content with the way he is,” you scoff slightly before continuing. “I’m not quite sure what else I was expecting. Actually, I do know what I was expecting, but again, that’s just seems to be my fault—”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s like an entire ocean’s worth of ice water has been poured down your back. Perhaps being buried under the glaciers of the Green Islands would be more forgiving.

Turning around, you find the hands on your waist do not move, Hoshi’s face coming into view instead of Seungkwan’s.

The room is bare besides the both of you, the door to quarters closed. You don’t know when he came in nor when Seungkwan left, but he stands before you now, hands touching you where you shouldn’t let him. But you do.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his eyes locked in on yours.

“W-what?” you breathe.

“I’ve been quite stupid.”

“Have you?”

It sounds like he breathes out a laugh, but composes himself. “I didn’t realise I was cornering you on the deck the other day. I’m sorry for making you feel unsafe. I’m sorry for everything I said.”

Every fibre of your being wants him to suffer, to withhold your forgiveness. But then you realise where you are, in the middle of an ocean that’s been designed by the heavens to kill.

“Thank you for saying that.” You don’t have the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry too. You aren’t…you aren’t what I implied you were. You’re right. I was projecting.”

“I don’t want us to go out there walking on eggshells around each other,” he says as his breath fans your face. Warm. “We have to come out the other side. All of us.”

You nod slowly.

“You have it the hardest out of all of us, I just…” he trails off and you feel his fingers tightening on your waist, even through the material of your corset. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. No matter what you lose, I think it’s safe to say you’ve gained me. All of us.”

The thought of not making it out alive has you flexing your numb fingers in front of you slightly. You might die. This crew might die. Your crew might die.

The man that’s begun to mean more than just a saviour might die.

Not considering your frozen fingertips, or the absurdity, your body moves on its own.

In a split second, your iced lips are in contact with the pirate captain’s warmer ones.

You don’t doubt they’re cold as well, but they differ from yours enough for them to feel like the only warmers you need.

Your hands have grabbed his face, light brushes against his skin as you tiptoe to reach his lips. They’re soft. Softer than you could’ve ever imagined on a pirate, and you find yourself forgetting where you are for a moment as you feel the plush of his mouth against your own.

Pulling away first, your noses still brushing, you whisper to him through the creaks and groans of the drifting ship. “I had to do that. Just in case.”

“In case?” he whispers back.

“In case… we don’t make it.”

It only takes him a moment to remove his hands from your waist. For a heartbreaking second, you think this is him pulling away from you. Again.

And then both of his arms are looping around your waist, pulling you into his chest hard, your lips slamming into each other even harder.

He takes the liberty to move his mouth against your own, hot even in the cold air. Moving with a restrained pace, yet appropriately desperate nonetheless. The cold tip of your nose brushes against his cheek and he pulls away to hiss.

“God, you’re freezing.”

The discovery only seems to urge him to pull you impossibly closer. If your lungs weren’t already occupied, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Despite it all, you find your arms coming up around his neck and shoulders, one hand finding refuge in his light hair.

You might never need a drink of anything ever again, not with the way his mouth alone seems to have you drunk and deranged, begging for time to stop so he’d never stop kissing you, never stop moving his beautiful, glorious mouth against your own.

There isn’t a thought in your mind as you pull away for wretched air, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

Hoshi places his forehead flush against your own, both of you exhaling into each other’s faces, still holding you so tight it hurts. It’s warm, his breath seemingly defrosting the formed icicles on your face.

“Hoshi,” you slip from your mouth instinctively.

“Soonyoung,” he breathes, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s talking. “My name. Soonyoung is the name my mother gave me. I want you to have it.”

Opening your eyes, you register his face so close to yours. His eyes are screwed shut, he’s still breathing heavily.

“Soonyoung,” you repeat, hands finding his face again, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Soonyoung.”

He opens his eyes.

“I like it. It’s very you.”

He smiles and you can’t help but think how beautiful he looks when he does, and when he leans forward to give you another elongated peck, one that has you chasing his lips again. He relents for one more.

“Well, Soonyoung, can I give you something too?”

He looks at you expectantly.

Reaching up to the back of your neck, you find the knotted bind of the leather cord that hangs from your neck. Undoing it, you bring the charm out from under your shirt, leaning forward to tie it around his neck this time.

He stares at the charm that dangles down his front as you give it a light tug, “A letter opener. So that’s what you were getting from that lady at Hasry.”

“You knew when I left?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“I was more worried about you wandering off than I was about anything else, what made you think I didn’t know exactly where you were?” He has a cheeky smile on his face, one that you’ve never seen without an underlying threat or the usual glint of unhinged in his eyes.

You can’t help but grin, of course he knew.

“If you wanted a letter opener as a weapon, you should’ve just asked.”

“Aren’t knives just bigger letter openers?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

He responds with a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before saying, “Since we’re exchanging gifts—”

“You started it.”

“And I’m ending it.”

He emerges from one of his many pockets with what looks like a bracelet in his hands.

“That’s—”

“From Hasry,” he confirms. “I bought it for no real reason, never even wore it.”

He rolls one of the pink and blue beads between his thumb and forefinger, and you remember it sitting at the stall in Hasry like it was yesterday.

“Didn’t realise I only bought it because I saw you looking at it.”

The twist in your heart is the worst it’s ever been, even while he holds you closer than anyone ever has, you feel the need to squeeze him beyond measure hoping it’ll fix the turmoil in your chest.

He attempts to take one of your hands, in an obvious attempt to slip the bracelet on your wrist.

“Wait.”

Hoshi stops.

“Keep it,” you say as you grab his wrist, pushing the beads down his hand so it sits on his wrist instead.

“But—”

You cut him off with a kiss. “A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

There’s a silent understanding between the two of you as you stand in each other's arms.

“We still have much to talk about. But I think this is alright for now,” you say.

“We will,” he confirms. “But when we go out there and put everything on the line, remember you aren’t just a princess anymore. You’re a pirate, too. So fight like one.”

THE COLD HAS COATED the deck in a fine layer of ice, one that makes it a hazard to simply walk on. Your boots feel unstable and it takes a conscious effort to plant your feet firmly on the wood to ensure you don’t fall like Chan almost has the last four times and the one time he did.

It’s less foggy than you’d anticipated, and you can see Mingyu and Minghao working overtime to ensure the giant ship doesn’t hit one of the absurdly large icebergs that float in the freezing water, the crow’s nest occupied by Hoshi himself as he peers through his telescope. It was strange seeing him use it, you’d begun to think he only kept it like an accessory.

He yells something from his place high up; it’s unclear, but you know.

And then you see it, the naval ship with the unmistakable flag that ripples proud in the cold air. Your family crest is barely decipherable, but knowing what lay ahead was enough to have you taking significantly deeper breaths.

Your father’s—the King’s— ship bobs in the water with a near empty main deck, not a soul on board.

You hold your breath, and as one of the blocks of ice are swerved, you find a second ship. The indicative jolly roger is nowhere to be seen, but it's obvious what ship that was.

The Tigress stands proud with her years of darkened wood, the unmistakable figurehead at the prow in the distinct shape of a fanged siren.

And only a smaller sailboat away, lay a flat of ice.

Another white flag with the royal crest, lines of uniformed soldiers that stand at attention like protectors of the ice, a pattern of dotted blues. The admiral stands next to your father, who’s donned his own Naval uniform complete with a purple cape pinned at his shoulder.

The purple cape of a victor that returns home from battle. The purple cape he’s donned before the battle has even ensued.

The King has noticed your arrival, his face becoming clearer the nearer the ship gets to the block of ice that would act as common ground.

And then the ship stops, you turn around and realise the rest of the crew has their eyes on you, expectant.

“We have a message,” Mingyu says, looking at you but handing the thing in his hand to his captain.

In your fixation, you did not notice the small boat that had floated near the ship, bearing a scroll with the royal seal.

Hoshi reads it, lips tight shut and jaw clenched.

In the next few minutes, all seven of you are cramped into a single, tiny wherry to be rowed onto the iced land. None of you speak, none of you acknowledge the other. The canister that Jun had given you presses against the side of your bare hip, your knife strapped inside your boot.

That was it. That was all you had.

But there was some confidence in it, the way the entire crew was asked to present themselves at the exchange was enough to tell you there was truth in what you presumed of your father’s plans.

He had knives of his own up his sleeve, and he intended to provoke his worst enemy while looking him in the eye.

As the boat reached what was a hardened shore, the crew stepped off the boat one by one. Very carefully, you stepped on the block of ice as the group moved forward, reaching a point where you stood parallel to the other rigid party.

In a purposeful attempt, you were kept in the middle of a herded circle, shielded by the crew as Hoshi stood front and centre, the crew’s mouthpiece. You can’t help but swallow, the ringing in your head growing louder than ever.

There’s a loud voice that plagues the sheets of ice, and your stomach flips so violently you lose both your vision and your hearing. You take an unconscious step back before you feel a hand on your back.

It was Chan, who whispered, “Keep it together. Calm down, it’s okay.”

It was the obvious response from him but you find yourself calming in any case.

“The crown commands you, Hoshi Kwon, to bring forth Her Royal Highness, the princess, at once.” Your father’s right hand man, the royal advisor, and his more trusted friend speaks for the throne, his voice recognizable as it rings on behalf of his king.

From standing behind him, you watch as Hoshi simply raises his fist to place at his hips.

“Captain. Captain Hoshi Kwon,” he corrects, before continuing. “And my hostage will not be brought anywhere till I have my money ship.”

“As proposed by Hoshi Kwon, His Majesty, The King will cooperate in the exchange of Her Royal Highness, the princess for said ship.”

“Give me my ship first.”

“Hoshi Kwon—”

Hoshi groans loudly, loud enough for the other party that stands multiple feet away to hear, before continuing, “This is why I despise dealing with you insufferable lot, why must everything be so formal?”

But you knew what game he was playing at, the deadliest pirate on the seas does not comply with government officials so easily, and he wasn’t about to drop his masquerade now.

“You know what,” Hoshi starts, and you see him eye the wooden boat you had just reached the island on. “We do it this way.”

There’s a pause.

“Me and my harmless little crew will sidestep back over, zip our way to our ship and leave you with your precious princess. Is your royal highness majesty in agreement?”

“Hoshi Kwon is commanded once again to bring the princess forward.” There’s less formality in his tone now, and you realise very quickly that there was no other way to separate yourself from the crew.

“Hoshi,” you whisper under your breath, hoping he would understand. Taking the risk, you move forward in the little space you had, hand very gently placed on his back.

There’s a pause before he speaks, “Fine. Have your princess.”

Turning around, back facing the crowd, he makes eye contact with you before moving to discreetly meet the eyes of his crew. “Let them take you.”

That’s the last thing you hear him say to his crew as you find a larger shadow approach from behind Hoshi.

“Ho—”

Hoshi grabs your arm harsher than he usually would, dragging you forward in his attempt to present you, but you find that Hoshi’s turned back was taken as an opportunity, the dozens of soldiers having already made their way across.

If you hadn’t heard what he had whispered to the crew, his shocked face would’ve fooled you too. He looks like he wasn’t expecting the way the crew was immediately surrounded by swarms of armed soldiers, guns perched directly at each member of the crew. He looked like he wasn’t expecting to be cornered.

But you liked to think you knew this man, and he had once told you to never turn your back to an enemy. Too much to be a rookie mistake of his, so you trust him.

And then you’re being tugged by someone who’s not from the crew, the distinct feeling of softer, more respectful hands that wrap around your elbow, urging you forward.

You find it within yourself to not look back, sending a prayer to every entity in the world to keep them safe, to keep the trust in your heart that they knew what they were doing.

Eyes downcast, you know immediately who you’re being led towards, and when you stop, bracing yourself to meet your father’s eye, you find yourself feeling nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks in his strange form of greeting. No embrace, no sign of relief that his daughter and only heir was alive and well.

“No, sir,” you reply, shifting your eyes back down to your shoes.

“Go back to the ship with the guards. We leave as soon as I’m done with this lot.”

Your stomach jolts, but you bite your tongue and let yourself be led to one of the smaller boats. The canister burns against your skin.

Seated in the smaller boat, flanked by guards, you can’t stop your neck from craning to look at the scene behind you.

Far away, on the other side of the glacier, the pirates are being ordered to strip themselves of their weapons.

Hoshi’s dagger glints against the sunlight and you spot Jun’s revolvers in the pile.

Hoshi looks up and catches your eye, face unchanged.

“You’re safe now, your Highness,” one of your guards assured you, taking your gaze as a fearful look back instead of one laced with something else.

Please be okay.

As soon as you're led up to the main deck, your eyes dart. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out that your father had not chosen to take one of the smaller ships as you’d expected of him. Instead, you stand in an exact replica of the ship you had just disembarked, except for the flag that fluttered with your family crest.

You’re pushed into one of the quarters in the lower decks, hearing the distinct click of something outside as you find yourself in the mostly barren indoors.

It looks like a colder version of your quarters on the other ship, the same dimensions, the same window that displays the clear waters of the Green Islands. Except it’s only occupied by a single bed that’s pushed into a corner, stripped of its sheets.

It looks like a prison cell.

When you turn around to try for the door, you try to wrench it open but it refuses to budge. You can’t help but question how many times you’ve landed yourself in this exact situation.

Why on Earth would they lock you in? Did they suspect you of something? But whatever for?

You give up, turning to untuck your shirt from your trousers, feeling for the bomb against your hip to make sure it hadn’t slipped. After that, you crouch down to check the inside of your boot, despite feeling the dagger this entire time, you couldn’t help but need to check.

There was nothing you could do, not when you knew nothing of what was happening on the other side of the door. The window gleams, and you find yourself bolting towards it, peering through the glass to check for any bodies that may land in the water, praying your father would keep them alive.

Hang them publicly. Guillotine them and suspend their heads at the gates of the palace. Just keep them alive for tonight.

The sun is proving a sorry resource of time, especially when you can’t tell how long it’s been since you were shoved in here. The sun seems closer to the seas when you hear the jingle of the lock.

Nearing the risk of whiplash, you turn to the door to find your father walking into the room. He walks in, his cape gone, immediately turning to lock the door from the inside once again.

Once he comes around, he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes boring into your soul.

“It seems the pirates have changed you,” he comments, eyeing your new trousers that you sport. It was strange, a woman in trousers, let alone a princess.

“Not at all, sir,” you respond.

“Your newfound friends are strapped into the brigs, finally subdued and ready to stand trial for their crimes.” His voice is rough, and he looks older than when you last saw him months ago.

He acts in less alarm than you would’ve thought, assuming his definition of ‘friends’ was simply a sick way to prod at you than any indication that he suspected an alliance. But you fight the effort to let out a sigh of relief; they were in the brig, they were fine, they’d stay alive in time for you to get to them.

“I thought David less than for a fool,” he refers to the Admiral as he talks. “He proved me quite incorrect when he showed up on some shoddy fishing boat with a message from a pirate. Like some messenger boy.”

You don’t answer as you simply stare at the toes of your boots. It was foolish to dare make eye contact with him.

“A stupid proposal from a stupid pirate,” he chortled in a genuine laugh. “That pirate ship was easy bait. If only you hadn’t gotten yourself roped in like a simpleton.”

His sentence ends with a harsher undertone as he blames you for something you couldn’t possibly have controlled.

“In any case,” he continues, the gruff in his voice clearing out. “What’s a pirate to a King?”

Everything in you screams at you to halt your already moving tongue, yelling about how horrible the idea was.

“He’s more of a man than you ever could be.”

The ringing in your ears becomes a sounding blare, your vision going white at the sides. Your hands shake and you don’t know why you keep staring your father in the eye.

There’s a furrow in his brow, eyes unyielding and face stoic.

It’s silent for goodness knows how long as you wish you could sink in that very moment.

“That load of filth’s done more than just put you in trousers, is it?” he grits through his teeth. He’s seething. “Henley had said you were acting strange when he saw you at that port market, it seems he was right.”

“No matter,” he continues, exhaling loudly. “It only makes my job easier.”

He unclasps his hands, pulling his white gloves at the fingertips.

“Perhaps we may live in a world where princesses prance around with pirates, but that won’t be the reason I fulfil my duty as King today.”

He slips them off his hands entirely.

“I tried shaping you into something worthy of the throne for so many years, and I’d begun to realise that perhaps, not everyone is fit to be ruler after all.”

Was he about to strip of your inheritance? The crown was why you were born. Despite everything your father had put you through, the throne was your god given right.

“Unfortunately, I cannot simply renounce your title. Not without reason,” he continues as he takes a step closer to you, dropping the gloves to the floor soundlessly. “And while perhaps the court may not consider inadequacy as enough reason, I’m quite sure an exchange gone wrong would be enough, even for them.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, dear daughter, that our time together has come to an end.”

And then his hands were around your throat.

[AN]: HEHEHEHEHEHEHE rb or send an ask telling me your thots as always, one part left to go!!!!!

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