swipes my sword under your door and begins swinging hi chip
requesting evil pirate!hongjoong au, do with this what you will 🧐
scratches head hey anne ahah so uhh i might have gotten a bit carried away by mc's backstory rather than evil pirate joong, kinda rushed but i really want to see this as a full fic anw i hope u enjoy :^DD
part of my force me to write drabble game requests are open until June 30, 2023 !
title: tainted blade
genre/prompt: (evil) pirate! hongjoong, pickpocket! gn! reader
warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, weapons, kinda graphic violence, bumjoong is a plot point, no romance joong and mc develop an almost sibling bond trying to find bumjoong
word count: 1.7k
Hongjoong hates losing.
You know this even before you personally met the headstrong captain thanks to his brother. You don’t cross paths by chance, but by the consequence of your amateur pickpocket skills.
Bumjoong allows you to painstakingly slit open his leather coin pouch as he stands idly by a fruit stand, quietly smirking at the way your desperate hands try to collect as much gold and silver pieces in two handfuls. Only when the coins start to flood past your outstretched hands and clatter obnoxiously to the ground do you sprint away from the mildly amused man.
Now that you think back to it, it was the way you haphazardly zipped through the very well known path to the underground city that ratted you out in the end. Unsurprisingly, Bumjoong is there at the hidden entrance when you reach it.
You remember trying to break free from his hold as he raised you like a scolding mother cat would with its child. He was smiling the entire time, not in the way that would send shivers down your spine and let you fear for your life, but in fondness of all things.
You scowl at him when he begins tutting, and he bursts in laughter when you stick your tongue out menacingly. The coins you “stole” from him are scattered under your defeated form now.
“You’re so much like my little brother.”
That’s the first time you met Hongjoong.
You meet Hongjoong a lot more after the first.
-
Hongjoong hates receiving help when he isn’t asking for it.
Again, something you learn from Bumjoong when you found yourself stuck in hand-to-hand combat with some drunk at the local tavern. Your lip is split and you’re pretty sure the liquid dripping from your eyebrow is not sweat by its metallic taste. Your opponent is doubled down, clutching his gut, he’s not faring any better than you with the bruise forming around his left eye and the way he’s heaving to breathe properly.
Your knuckles throb from the reckless punches you’ve thrown, knees buckling from the adrenaline leaving your system, but you stubbornly keep yourself on your toes in case he could strike again. Raising a shaking fist, you aim for the side of the man’s head before another hand holds you back.
“That’s enough,” Bumjoong’s prim and neatly pressed navy uniform contrasts heavily with your worn out attire. “You’ve done enough damage, kid. To the both of you.”
You pry your arm from his grip, wiping the blood trickling by your eye with the back of your hand. “I don’t need your help, Bumjoong.”
He sighs. “Alright,” he relents, and stands to the side.
This time he doesn’t give you a scolding after you land a final blow (although admittedly much weaker than you’d wish), he knows you know what the consequences of your actions are. The walk home is silent, save from the jingling keys strapped securely on his belt.
“You patronize me too much for someone in the navy.”
He snorts, “I’m your big brother first before a government servant, kid.”
“I’m not your brother.” You look at him perplexed. How did this guy manage to pass the mandatory government background check with you hanging around him for most of your teenage life anyway? “And I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.”
Bumjoong stops in his tracks to look at you. His gaze isn’t gentle, rather it burns with the trails of a promise. “I’ll protect you for as long as I can.”
You look away, unable to hold the intense eye contact. “I can protect myself.”
“At least try to learn how to use a dagger or two,” he says and continues walking ahead.
Twin daggers are the last thing Bumjoong leaves in your possession before he disappears out of your life.
-
With nothing but a couple of blades and a bundle of clothes to your name, you wander near the docks just as you had before you met Bumjoong. Pickpocketing the captains and crewmen of the merchant ships proved to be a task similar to child’s play now that you’ve developed better skills under him.
You guess you have that to thank him.
Soon enough you had made a name for yourself as a seasoned thief. And with the title along came the very real danger looming over your head, hence why you kept acquaintances and allies at a distance. Adapting a nomadic lifestyle helped, but the more you traveled from town to town, the more you came to realize you would always end up in towns along the coast. Almost as if your subconscious was telling you something was waiting across the reef.
You end up thinking about what Hongjoong would do in your situation.
Hongjoong hates making empty promises.
But who’s to say Hongjoong was actually a real person, for all you know Bumjoong was making him up for you to empathize with him.
-
He tells you this himself the very night you meet him in person. At a tavern of all places.
You slip up when you draw one of your daggers to openly threaten him in front of his entire crew at the most lawless coastside town you’ve ever set foot to. “You’re the famous Hongjoong, huh?”
There’s a twinkle in his eye when his gaze lands on the hilt of your blade. You brush it aside as fascination, but deep inside you have a sneaking feeling he recognizes it. You let the tip lift his chin for him to look at you instead. “Depends who’s asking, sweetheart.”
“Cut the bullshit, pirate.” Retracting your dagger, you contemplate on telling him the full truth about Bumjoong’s disappearance. The words leave your mouth before you have the willpower to filter them out. “The navy has your brother.”
This takes Hongjoong aback. He knew his brother always wanted to be a nameless bounty hunter, but the navy? “I’m taking he took you under his wing or something?”
You scoffed, “More or less. It doesn’t matter. I need to find him.”
“And you think I’d go out of my way to assist you, thief?”
“Geez, he wasn’t lying when he said you’re stubborn.”
“Promised he’d protect you, didn’t he?” He stares into his beverage, eyes glazed over with something you can’t quite put your finger on. “Don’t you just hate being offered empty promises?”
You don’t answer. You don’t have an answer. All you knew was that Bumjoong was taken against his will and that something tells you he couldn’t be reached by traveling on land.
Hongjoong gets up from the booth, pint still half-full discarded on the table in front of you. “Welcome aboard, thief.”
-
More than anything, Hongjoong hates liars.
Hongjoong’s rapier has always stayed sheathed in the sheath-cane hybrid he customized himself. You’ve seen the crew spar with him along the main deck during the fortnights away from shorelines, but never with the actual blade he carried around.
Which is why you don’t immediately recognize the tip of the blade that rested threateningly beneath your chin.
The Aurora sits docked among smaller fishermen’s ships on some island away from authorities, a waning crescent moon taunts your vision as you lay leisurely on the sterncastle deck. The crew unanimously elected you as the watchdog for tonight while they drink their asses away at the nearest tavern, and you are left with no choice but to sharpen your daggers in solitude on the deck.
A short yelp leaves you when the thin blade enters your vision, mostly out of confusion rather than fear. The daggers you’ve been sharpening discarded at your side when you recognize your captain’s heavy boots. How did you not hear him coming with those on?
“Some pickpocket you are with those reflexes.” Hongjoong disengages, his tone almost harsh.
He turns his back on you when you stand, back leaving the stability of the mast. “You’re upset.” It’s evident, it always has been. Hongjoong is terrible at masking his displeasure and it’s no different now that it’s only the two of you on the ship.
He takes a few steps forward before he leans on the railings, rapier and sheath-cane dangling over the calm waves in his grip. A shaky breath and a small chuckle nearly disappears into the sea breeze but you pick up on them and deduce he’s somewhat inebriated. “Captain, if you wish to talk-”
“I know what you did to my brother.”
He turns again, now looking at you, looking conflicted for a split second before his glare turns hostile. Chin raised, he tries to conceal the hurt by being intimidating. It almost works. “How dare you walk up to my ship with his blood on your hands?”
“What?”
The question hangs unanswered between you two, nothing has made any sense since Hongjoong joined you tonight. You shift in place, discreetly trying to pick up your daggers in case he jumps you.
“It took me a while, but now I remember. Those daggers,” a step forward, “are a gift from the ocean, you see.”
You flinch, stepping on the handles of your blades as he inches closer. “It keeps the blood of its previous owner in the hilt, it spills right through the fuller when they pass. Explains the pretty scarlet you got there.”
What was he on about?
“That night, during the raid.” The corner of his mouth tilts up in a sarcastic smirk, a challenging brow rises when he finishes. “That was you.”
If you crouch to pick up your weapon now he could freely strike you, so you opt to stay in place.
“You killed Bumjoong.”
You laugh. He can’t be serious, right? Does he really think you would actually kill the closest thing to a brother you had? And what was all that talk about daggers as gifts from the ocean? Guard down, you crouch and finally pick up your twin daggers. “Yeah, sure and Aurora is a sea merchant’s boat. Where did you even get that from-”
Slash.
“Shit!” You cradle the wound forming on your forearm. Hongjoong’s blade is under your throat again, this time you see his muscles tensing to land another strike. You freeze. “I didn’t kill your brother!”
Another swish of his wrist and a cut appears on your cheek. One look into his hooded eyes tells you he’s dead serious.
“Get off my ship,” he growls, gripping the hilt of his blade tighter as if his body and mind were playing opposing sides to the order.
You’re shaking when you stand. His rapier follows. “Never show your face around me again.”
You scrabble off the deck and down the gangplank into the nearest establishment.
Had Bumjoong really died by the daggers you carried?
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