Pirates
Chapter 1: Silk and Storms
Park Jimin lived in a house where polished floors gleamed under the sunlight, where silverware never clattered, and where every word he spoke seemed to echo with weight—polite, measured, and trimmed of unnecessary emotion.
His father, Governor Park, was a man whose gaze could quiet a room without a single word. Always Dressed in navy blues and crisp whites, he walked through the estate like a storm bottled in glass — controlled, but never calm.
Jimin’s Father
Posture, Jimin
The Governor said without looking up from his newspaper one morning.
Jimin straightened immediately, shifting on the velvet seat at the long breakfast table.
His mother, seated at the other end, offered him a faint smile over her tea cup.
Jimin’s Mother
Your curls are a bit wild again, darling
Jimin mumbled, patting the rebellious strands.
Park Jimin
They just... spring back
The governor’s eyes flicked up, then back down to the paper.
Jimin’s Father
Water won’t fix disobedient hair or disobedient behavior. Remember that.
Jimin blinked. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet somehow, in this house, existing without perfection sometimes counted as misbehaving.
His two older brothers sat silently, perfect in their posture and matching expressions of polite indifference.
Park Daejin, the eldest, was already being trained to take up military command, and Hyunsu, the second, studied law with all the charm of a filing cabinet. They nodded when spoken to. Smiled when expected. Jimin often wondered if they'd traded their personalities for political futures.
He, however, still hummed in the gardens when no one was watching. He asked questions at dinner that made people blink. He fed the palace cats scraps under the table and had once climbed onto the roof to watch the sea.
He was the youngest. Just twelve, with soft hands, softer thoughts, and a kindness too loud for quiet halls like these.
And kindness, his father often warned, was a luxury.
Park Jimin
May I go down to the port today?
Jimin asked between bites of toast.
His mother’s tea clinked delicately against its saucer
Jimin’s Mother
Again? You just went last week
Park Jimin
I like the fishermen
Park Jimin
They tell funny stories
His father lowered the paper
Jimin’s Father
Stories won’t teach you discipline. If you have time to wander, you have time for Latin.
Jimin’s Father
That’s enough
Jimin looked down at his plate. The toast suddenly wasn’t as buttery.
His mother sighed and reached for the sugar pot
Jimin’s Mother
Let him go for an hour. He’s a child.
Jimin’s Father
He’s a Park
Jimin’s Father
Not a stray dog to be sniffing around the docks
That evening, he went anyway.
Snuck out through the kitchen garden. Waved to the guards who were too polite to question him. Wandered barefoot along the winding path down to the sea, humming softly to himself.
The port was quieter at dusk. A few fishing boats creaked gently against the tide, ropes swaying like lazy arms. The salty air danced through his curls as he leaned against a crate and watched a man with a gray beard gut a fish like it was a routine prayer.
The old man grinned.
Jimin nodded
Park Jimin
You said you’d tell me about the storm you sailed through near Dragon’s Jaw
Random
You’re a smart one. Too smart for silk shoes and stuffed shirts
Park Jimin
Don’t tell my father
Random
Wouldn’t dream of it
That night, Jimin slept with the window cracked open, dreaming of salt and sea spray, of wild waves and ships with sails like wings.
He didn’t know that just beyond the cliffs, sails already stirred.
Dark ones.
The kind not bound for trade or fishing.
The kind that moved under moonlight… and didn’t leave survivors.
The town was asleep when the shadows slipped in.
No warning. No cannon fire. No flashing flags. Just silence—and then the sudden, eerie creak of wood groaning as a massive ship docked without permission.
It was black as pitch, its sails torn like battle scars and its figurehead carved into a twisted dragon that seemed to grin. No name was written on the hull. Pirates didn’t need names. Their reputation always arrived before they did.
Except tonight, no one saw them coming.
Jimin woke to the sound of glass breaking.
He sat up in bed, heart racing, blinking into the darkness.
Another crash. A muffled voice. Heavy boots on marble.
His door burst open.
And just like that, his safe little world was gone.
A man stormed in first—tall, broad, and entirely made of shadows. A red bandana covered his hair, a crooked blade hung lazily from his hip, and his expression said, I don’t care who you are unless you scream or stab me.
he said over his shoulder
Jimin squeaked instinctively
Another voice echoed from the hallway
？？？2
We don’t have time to judge his squishiness, Hoseok. Just grab him!
Before Jimin could move, he was tossed over the pirate’s shoulder like a sack of flour.
Park Jimin
Hey—put me down! My father is the Governor!
Jung Hoseok
Well, lucky for you
Hoseok replied, walking casually down the hallway as alarms started ringing far too late
Jung Hoseok
We collect governors’ sons. Very rare. Very whiny.
Park Jimin
You’re kidnapping me!
Park Jimin
That’s illegal!
Jung Hoseok
So is stealing tea, but here we are.
As they passed the grand staircase, another figure joined them—slimmer, quieter. His long coat dragged behind him like smoke, and his eyes were sharp like a cat’s in candlelight.
He looked at Jimin for exactly two seconds before muttering
And then turned to Hoseok
Min Yoongi
Is this even the right kid?
Jung Hoseok
Governor’s house, bed bigger than my boat, cried a little—yeah, that’s him.
Yoongi raised an unimpressed brow.
Behind them, guards yelled and doors slammed. Jimin saw a flash of his mother in the hall, screaming his name, but it all blurred as the night swallowed them.
The ship rocked slightly under his feet as Jimin was tossed unceremoniously onto the deck.
He scrambled up to find himself surrounded.
Six men stared down at him—some with knives, others with boredom, one chewing something green and suspicious.
And then there was him.
Standing at the helm like he was born from thunder—eyes dark, hair windblown, and jaw clenched with permanent annoyance.
Captain Jeon Jungkook.
He didn’t speak right away.
Just looked at Jimin.
Then looked at Hoseok
Jeon Jungkook
Why is it looking at me?
Jung Hoseok
It’s a he, not an it, and his name’s probably something fancy like... Jimin?
Jungkook narrowed his eyes
Jeon Jungkook
Why is he agreeing with me?
Min Yoongi
You’ll hate him
Jeon Jungkook
I already do
As the ship drifted from the port, Jimin stared back at the only world he had ever known—fading in the moonlight, smaller and smaller.
He was twelve.
Alone.
Terrified.
And surrounded by people who smelled like rum and made murder jokes casually over breakfast.
He clutched his knees to his chest and whispered
Park Jimin
You’re not supposed to laugh while kidnapping someone
Hoseok shrugged from the corner
Jung Hoseok
Helps pass the time
Yoongi threw a rope at him
Min Yoongi
Shut up before you scare the kid more
Jungkook crossed his arms
Jeon Jungkook
Good. That means it’s working
Dumbo
New story! hope you like it
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