exomeme | part two hundred and ten

The ship sways slightly with the tilt of the waves, but Joonmyun hardly notices it from his stance at the head of the table. A large map is laid out over the table, small wooden figurines representing war ships and small schooners littering the oceans whilst thicker pieces sit on the land masses, the embodiment of troops of men. He reaches up to push his dark hair out of his eyes, lips pressed in a fine line, reaching out to push a ship further north.

An older general speaks from his place beside the table to Joonmyun’s right. “Sire, if the Calberry goes too far, it’ll be lost to the tide. The ship is old and mostly used for supplies transportation.”

The young prince raises his head to give him a weak smile. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made, General. If the Calberry moves ahead and takes on East Rosewood’s ships, it’ll provide enough time for our schooners to infiltrate the docks, wouldn’t you say? A distraction...We can empty it of supplies beforehand.” Joonmyun nods, moving two schooners towards the enemy ships.

“And send those men to their deaths, sire?” The Commodore scoffs under his breath. “There must be another way.”

“Are you questioning me, Commodore?” Joonmyun raises a thick brow, standing straight and giving a friendly laugh despite his words. The Commodore shakes his head, clearing his throat and looking back towards the map.

“It’s a good plan, sire. I was merely curious.”

“Perhaps in the future, you should reserve your curiosity for idle talk between meals, no?” Joonmyun continues, fingers fiddling softly with a large ring on his right hand. The gem is a deep, crimson red, an heirloom passed down through the Williamson family through generations. His father, King Bartholomew Williamson betrusted him with it before his journey, despite him being the son of a concubine, leaving him pale and slant eyed in comparison to his royal brothers, all blonde hair and tall statures.

‘Do no let this fall into the wrong hands, Joonmyun,’ his father had mentioned during their private dinner, foods covering the table. ‘I trust you with my military instead of my crown, and so I trust you to take care of this as you take care of our country.’ Joonmyun had firmly sworn to his duty.

Spinning the ring quietly, he gestures towards a cluster of troops located to the south of their current position. The candlelight flickers within the dark room. Dark? Was it nightfall already? Joonmyun could never be sure below deck. “What of the southern troops? When was the last we heard word of their position?” he questions, voice tired.

The general moves to rustle through a stack of parchment at the edge of the table. After a moment’s silence, he holds up a scroll. “A fortnight, sire.”

Joonmyun furrows his brow slightly at that, stilling in the spinning of his ring. “Too long,” he murmurs to himself quietly, bracing both hands on the table and leaning over to peer down at his plans. As he reaches over to push the troops from their position, a sudden, violent jerk to the ship causes him to lose his balance. The maps slide from the table and wooden figurines scatter as paper flutters to the floor. Joonmyun grapples for the table to keep himself from hitting the floor, his peers doing the same. The sound of shouting above deck has him alert.

“What in God’s name,” he starts, flustered, trying to stand and fix his dark blue jacket as another violent lurch has him stumbling forward towards the ground. He catches himself on his knees.

“Sire, are you okay?!” The Commodore questions first, scrambling to help him up as Joonmyun nods reassuringly.

“What’s going on?” Joonmyun asks, incredulous. As if in answer to his question, the door to his drawing room bursts open, the ship’s soaked First Mate leaning against the frame, gasping.

“What’s going on --” Joonmyun starts, moving towards him in concern only to be cut off.

“Pirates...Pirates, Prince Suho..! They’ve taken us by surprise in the fog. They’ve rammed us and are about to board. You need to be barricaded for your safety!” The First Mate stammers in a rush, and Joonmyun barely has time to retort as the general and Commodore each take an arm and rush him out into the hall, past the Mate and towards the stairs. In the hall, the yelling from above deck is much clearer.

“Pirates?! Let -- Let go of me, Commodore!” Joonmyun grunts, jerking his arm away. “Am I a damsel in need of guardsmen?! I fight with my ship.”

“Sire, I have no doubts in your ability, but if you fall, then who leads the army? For your safety..” Joonmyun glowers, but doesn’t fight it.

“Fine...But I can walk on my own,” he complains, hurrying down the steps towards the belly of the ship, his men close behind him. As they reach his quarters, all three spill inside and slam the door shut behind them. The Commodore is quick to lock and barricade the door with a chest, and Joonmyun is pushed towards his bed, beside which lies his swords. Securing them to his waist, he catches himself against the tall bed post as the ship lurches again. There’s the sound of cannon fire and Joonmyun pales. They’ve boarded.

---

“Douse the lights, Luhan,” Minseok orders, his boots clicking atop the wooden deck as he makes his rounds. “We’re preparing for attack in twenty.” Obediently, the blonde, unruly mop he calls Luhan clambers from his position seaside to spit on any candles and oil lamps he can find on the ship. Minseok runs a hand through the red hair not hidden beneath a thick headscarf and drops his hands to rest on his hips, peering out over the misfit band of deckhands the Shèn called its crew. After a moment, Luhan returned to his side, grinning ear to ear, Zitao close behind him.

“Darkened, sir,” the tall boy mock saluted him, bright eyes lighting up the dark as much as any candle would. Minseok rolled his own, reaching out to yank the laces in his shirt tight, much to Luhan’s distaste as he grunted in complaint.

“Hide the goods, ya’ wench,” Minseok snorts, reaching over to pat the dark haired boy behind Luhan on the head. “As for you, Taozi, do me a favor ‘n check with Jongdae about our position, aye?” Zitao grins brightly and nods, loose shirt catching on the high winds as he hurries towards the steps at the bough of the ship, making his way up towards the wheel.

“Zhongda!” Zitao calls over the sound of the wind, loose clothing flapping violently around him. Jongdae glances from his position at the wheel, bow lips curved in amusement as he grips the rungs hard and pulls them westward, brunette hair wild and swept by the wind. He’s as known amongst pirates as Luhan and Yixing are, though he less for his notorious crimes and more for his uncanny ability to pilot a ship. They call him the Storm Weaver, able to guide a ship through the worst of storms without batting an eyelash. The excitement in his face when lightning flashes is enough to convince most seamen that he’s batshit crazy. Waving Zitao over, he locks the wheel in place and climbs the rail, shouting loud for the deck to hear. “Drop the sails! Lower ye’ voices!”

There’s a loud creak as men yank and pull, and soon the ship is coasting at a steady speed. Once Jongdae’s sure his order’s gotten carried out for the most part, he hops back down to the deck and makes his way towards Zitao. “Yer little belt there makes ye’ look like some sort of lady,” he teases the tall, dark haired boy before him, reaching out to catch the red sash billowing in the wind behind Zitao. Zitao wrinkles his nose and swats his hands away.

“Min ge asking for where we are,” Zitao’s English is crude and thick with accent, having been plucked from the Spice lands alongside the majority of their crew. Jongdae blasts him with a shit eating grin, patting the compass hanging from his neck.

“Southwest, aye? We ram in fifteen. Understand?” When Zitao nods, Jongdae laughs, the noise loud and shrill, cutting through the air. He ruffles the taller pirate’s hair. “So cute. Go, go.” Zitao swats again before turning to scurry off in search of the First Mate to give him his barely understandable report.

Below deck, Yixing yawns, lounging in his pile of flour bags, dozing off to the sway of the boat. He’s shirtless, long black hair held back in a ponytail, a multitude of gold and silver necklaces making some attempt at covering his bare chest, and a loose, worn pair of linen pants barely hanging onto his waist. He hardly budges when the door to the kitchen swings open.

“Captain’s ‘bout to lead the hunt, and yer sleepin’?!” Luhan’s loud voice cuts through the room as he leans in. “Get yer raggedy ass up!”

Yixing rolls over, shooing him away. “You’re letting the breeze in,” he complains. Luhan laughs, shaking his head, and flounces off, leaving the door to sway behind him despite Yixing’s irritated noise.

Hurrying back up to the top deck, a sword at his waist, Luhan makes his way towards the edge of the ship, grinning at the shadowy outline of adventure coming up ahead. The Shèn feels like a ghost ship with how deathly silent it’s gotten, a single sail near the crow’s nest keeping them lurching forward. Zitao climbs up onto the railing beside Luhan, a dangerous look in his eyes and toes curling over the edge as he holds on, a sword strapped to his back.

To his right stands Minseok, though the Mate seems distracted, peering amongst the deckhands to make sure everyone’s ready. “Brace fer impact,” he murmurs to a spare man, and soon the deck is filled with whispers as the men pass along their orders, all reaching for something to hold onto, because the last thing they need is some drunken fool floundering in the waters when they’re on a mission.

A door beside the stairs swings open and the whispers die off immediately. Minseok and Luhan look behind them at the noise, and a slow pair of footsteps make their way out onto the deck.

“Captain,” Minseok greets, tilting his head as the tall man emerging from the shadows shoots him a severe look.

Captain Kris Wu, the Dragon of the Sea. Head of the Shèn and notoriously ruthless in both decision and women. He’s tall and terribly handsome, surprisingly clean for a pirate with his feathered blonde hair only partially hidden beneath a dark black hat. His ladykiller bodyline is shown off in a long black overcoat stained and encrusted with seasalt, the gold trim faded to a pale yellow. He wears an off-white blouse beneath, a dark brown vest, and a pair of tight leather pants that can’t be comfortable tucked neatly into knee-high boots. Holding up a hand endorned with gold rings (matching the multitude in his ears), he halts the man behind him (a sleepy looking Yixing who barely registers as he bumps into Kris’ back, reaching up to rub his nose) and peers around.

After a long moment of silence, he speaks. “Ye men ready for some fun?” His voice is low and booming despite being nearly lost in the wind. The deckhands drum against the wooden panelling in answer. With a low chuckle, the Captain sways out towards the middle of the deck, holding onto the mast and glancing up towards Jongdae’s place.

“Bring her in, Jongdae!”

“Aye, aye!” comes Jongdae’s response as he hurries towards the wheel, grabbing the rungs and bracing himself. “Batten ye down and prepare for a shake!” As he yanks the wheel to a sharp left, the Queen’s Voyage becomes suddenly clear, right beside them, and within minutes, the Shèn rams into her side full force.

there is no 10 min rule jfc

926 words

sigh i want to date her ;; this is lovely anon!

“You’re doing intramural soccer*?”

Jongdae pulls out an earbud and blinks up at his roommate, who’s holding up the membership form Jongdae had picked up earlier that day. One of the upperclassmen in the Korean cultural club, Minseok, had pressed it into his hands after hearing about Jongdae’s brief stint as a sprinter on his high school’s track team. It was only for a semester in sophomore year but that was apparently more than enough experience needed to join KCA’s intramural soccer team. “Oh, that? Yeah, Minseok-hyung kind of forced me to.”

“Forced you and not me?!” Baekhyun places a hand to his chest and gapes, wide-eyed and nostrils flared, for a moment before rearranging back into his default creepy villain sidekick expression. “I thought you didn’t like team sports. Weren’t you picked last in gym for like, everything?”

“That was in the fourth grade! And that’s only because I was ninety pounds!” Jongdae squawks, kicking a foot into Baekhyun’s shin, and snatches the form back. “God, why did I even tell you that? You’re such a fartbag. That’s the last time I ever let you get me twisted.”

Shrugging, Baekhyun snorts. “Whatever, just ‘cause you’ve gained maybe five pounds since you were ten doesn’t suddenly make you a star athlete, Kim Jongdae.” He narrowly avoids getting clocked in the face with Jongdae’s stapler.

“At least I didn’t quit hapkido after shitting my pants during a competition.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes and readies himself to pounce forward. “You motherfucker—for the last time, it was a stress shart and I got third place!”

After having spent half an hour wandering around campus looking for the most obscure, shrouded field in the history of the universe, Jongdae finally finds his way to the first practice. The team’s already warming up by the time he scurries to the bleachers to drop off his backpack.

“Hey! Yo, Jongdae!”

Minseok waves him over from where he’s stretching out his hamstrings. Everyone’s sitting in a circle and Jongdae recognizes a few familiar faces from the few KCA meetings he’d attended the past few weeks. He waves at them before plopping down in the space Minseok cleared next to him.

“You ready? Did you read up on the rules?”

Jongdae grins sheepishly. “Oh, uh, well, some things came up and y’know—”

Slapping a hand to his shoulder, Minseok laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, man, Lu Han’ll go over the basics before we actually start. He’s the captain and,” Minseok leans in, “kind of a nut about soccer.”

“Who’re you calling a nut,” comes an eerily sweet voice.

Jongdae turns his head and finds himself face to crotch with a kid beaming down at them with a wide smile. His face looks like a toddler’s but his body’s toned and scarred with years of sports and it’s a little jarring to see.

“Oop, and here he is!” Minseok says, drawing back and patting a hand against the captain’s right buttcheek. “Respectable captain Lu Han!”

“Hey,” Lu Han says and reaches a hand out to shake.

“Hi!” Jongdae takes it eagerly. “I’m Jongdae and I have no idea how to play this game!”

Lu Han laughs and squats between Jongdae and Minseok, elbowing Minseok in the side hard enough to elicit a yelp. “That’s okay, the rules are pretty simple and it’s only the intramural level so it’s nothing too serious.”

Minseok snorts from beside him and earns himself another elbow. “Don’t listen to him. Lu Han loves winning and, like I said, he’s kind of a soccer nut.”

Waving a hand, Lu Han pointedly ignores the accusation and calls out for everyone to gather and start running laps around the field. “Fifteen minutes! As many as you can!”

It’s been a good four months since Jongdae’s run any distance further than that from his dorm to the cafeteria. Even with the gym only a ten minute walk away, his ninety million other club activities get in the way of any kind of physical activity, and he usually spends his free time on homework or building up his resume. Well, it’s mostly catching up with the new season of Game of Thrones but he suffers, okay?

Luckily, he’s not as out of shape as he thought and he’s making pretty good time until someone slams into him from behind, knocking him off balance. Jongdae scrambles to maintain his footing as the human canon barks a loud “sorry!” right beside his ear.

Jongdae regains his senses and turns to face the perpetrator. It’s a tall, gangly guy with an apologetic grin. Jongdae hasn’t seen him at any of the KCA meetups but then again, Jongdae’s only been to a few and those were mostly the cooking events.

“I’m Chanyeol,” he says and sticks out a sweaty hand that Jongdae takes uneasily. “Sorry, my friend kind of shoved me.” He nods back at a shorter guy who’s staring at them, wide eyed and with a satisfied smirk.

“Kyungsoo,” the guy says simply and resumes running, likely to get away from the possible revenge Chanyeol’s about to inflict on him. Fortunately for him, Lu Han calls for everyone to huddle for the start of an actual practice game.

Jongdae and Chanyeol follow suit. “I’m Jongdae, and don’t worry about it! I’m pretty sturdy for a small dude!”

“I’ve gotta admit, I didn’t even see you—” Chanyeol pauses, eyes going wide. “Watch out!”

A shrill scream comes from the huddle and the last thing Jongdae sees is a soccer ball headed straight for his head.

i can't believe i'm so invested that i even pushed past my fear of ppl reading my work and posted fic. the spirit of competition ig

biting my nails in agony omg

i feel like it should lol

but who cares at this point

me too lmfaoooo

lmao mfte i'm just posting all my dead wips idek

AAAAAND THE WHISTLE BLOWS!!!1

no matter if we win or lose, team kai gets an A+ for effort, thank you so much kainons! ;;;
whistle toop with a football sort of shape in it but idk if it's noticable. 167p

team doppar let's goooooo

good for you anon! i am proud of you :)

we started from the bottom

now we here

started from the bottom now my whole team fucking here!!!

kim jong bros fanart! i might color this i'm not sure yet ;___;

come on anons, this is your last minute!

so many warnings for this
magical girls lingerie fem exo foreign object penetration

oops forgot 77p

kyungsoo buys a dog
=

i see it anon! gj!! :)

collapse

that's great, anon!

collapseu collapseu oh my god my heart

part two hundred and ten

Re: gimme yer booty; TEAM CHENSHINE

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Re: wc!au: team chenshine - fic

Re: wc!au: team chenshine!!!

Re: wc!au: team chenshine - fic

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wc!au: team kai, kaiyeol toop

wc!au: team kai, whistle blows

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3mins!!

wc!au: team chenshine - started from the bottom toop

wc!au: team chenshine!!!

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wc!au: team doppar stars & moonlight pt 1 3943w

Re: wc!au: team kai, kaiyeol toop

wc!au: team doppar

Re: wc!au: team kai, whistle blows

Re: wc!au: team doppar stars & moonlight pt 1 3943w

no subject

Re: wc!au: team doppar