⋆꒰ঌ CAPTAIN YEONJUN

You, out of necessity, go undercover on a pirate ship. But how long can you hide the fact that you are a woman? Life as a poor merchant’s daughter is hard enough. When your parents give up on some miracle prospective marriage, you were left to fend for yourself as a young girl in a world where paid labor does not exist for women. So you sneak on a pirate ship disguised as a young man, because you supposed your hands were never soft enough to give you away anyway. Unfortunately, the ship’s captain is a wry and observant man.

⋆꒰ঌ CAPTAIN YEONJUN

You, out of necessity, go undercover on a pirate ship. But how long can you hide the fact that you are a woman? Life as a poor merchant’s daughter is hard enough. When your parents give up on some miracle prospective marriage, you were left to fend for yourself as a young girl in a world where paid labor does not exist for women. So you sneak on a pirate ship disguised as a young man, because you supposed your hands were never soft enough to give you away anyway. Unfortunately, the ship’s captain is a wry and observant man.

Yeonjun wasn’t sure what to make of that new crewmate. They could hardly hoist buckets, but his frame was small anyway. It got them shit from other crew mates, jabbing their grimy elbows into their ribs when they passed, barking something snide. They never even defended themselves—just hurried out an apology and got back to work doing whatever task that Yeonjun had decided for them to toil over today.

Well. Yeonjun wasn’t sure much about him at all. Yeonjun may be a forgiving man, but he is not a stupid man. He notices things. The shape of them when their tunic bunched just so, or the softness of their jaw, or the way they watched him to see if he noticed any of the little tells. Of course he had.

Arms crossed over his broad chest, Yeonjun watches as they creep out from below deck, hair in wet tendrils from... what? A quick makeshift bath from whatever they could manage to scrub the grime off? Scoffing a soft laugh, Yeonjun shakes his head. “What business do you have above deck? We’re on... foreign shores by morning,” he says, moon shining down on them and the waves both. “Sea legs?”