She doesn’t remember when it started—perhaps when grief and thirst for revenge consumed them. Whatever it was, the weight of responsibility on her shoulders was too great.
HIDE THE SCISSORS! I DON’T WANT ANYONE CUTTING MY MAN’S HAIR | Myung Jaehyun
pairings — boynextdoor’s jaehyun x reader
genre. rom-com, slice of life warnings. reader is dramatic & can also be seen as controlling wc. 780
note — requested by this anon!! love love love dramatic readers i swear. writing them is just chef’s kiss
MORE WORKS: navigation | bnd!masterlist
YOU KNOW SOMETHING is wrong the moment Myung Jaehyun says, “Babe.”
Not “hey”. Not “come here”.
Just “babe”, careful and suspicious, like he’s testing the structural integrity of the situation.
You don’t look up from where you’re sprawled dramatically across the couch. “If this is about what I think it is, don’t.”
He pauses. Too long.
“…How do you always know?”
You sit up immediately. “NO.”
Jaehyun blinks. “I haven’t even—”
“You were thinking about it,” you accuse, pointing at him like a courtroom prosecutor. “I can feel it. You were thinking about cutting your hair.”
He laughs, a little guilty, a little fond. His hair—glorious, grown-out, brushing his collarbone—falls into his eyes as he does, and you make a distressed noise.
“See?” you say. “LOOK at that. That is ART.”
He runs a hand through it absentmindedly. “It’s getting kind of long.”
“Yes,” you say fervently. “That’s the point.”
“It keeps getting in my face.”
“That’s what hair is for.”
He tilts his head, amused. “You’re being dramatic.”
You gasp. “I am being correct.”
Jaehyun steps closer, crouching in front of you.
You’re in the bathroom, sitting on the counter like you always do, legs swinging while Jaehyun stands between your knees, towel around his shoulders, hair still slightly damp.
Long. Perfect.
Threatened.
You’re brushing your fingers through it lovingly.
“I’m just saying,” you insist, “if you ever cut this without warning, I will know. And I will be devastated. Like—dramatically.”
Jaehyun hums. Too innocently.
“Mmm.”
You narrow your eyes. “Why did you ‘mmm’ like that.”
“What?” he says, reaching into the drawer under the sink.
Your soul leaves your body.
You hear it before you see it.
Snip.
You freeze.
Slowly, horrifically, you look up.
Jaehyun is holding a pair of scissors.
Open. Hovering.
Right. Near. His hair.
Your face drains of color. “Jaehyun.”
He bites his lip, clearly trying not to smile. “Relax. I’m just—”
“NO,” you gasp, sliding off the counter so fast you nearly slip. “No no no no—why do you have scissors?”
He lifts a small section of hair between his fingers, mock-serious. “I was thinking maybe just a little trim—”
Your eyes immediately well up. “You said you wouldn’t.”
“I said not right now.”
“This is right now!” you whisper, betrayed.
He makes a dramatic thinking face. “Hmm. Is it?”
Your hands come up to clutch his wrists. “Jaehyun, please. I like it. I love it. I emotionally depend on it.”
He falters for half a second.
But then—because he is apparently a menace—he raises the scissors again.
Snip.
You make a tiny, broken sound.
“…You cut it,” you say, voice wobbling.
His smile disappears instantly.
“No—no, I didn’t,” he blurts out, dropping the scissors into the sink. “I swear, I didn’t cut anything. Look—look.”
He lifts the strand. Still intact. Untouched.
You stare at it.
Then at him.
Then your lip trembles.
“Oh my gosh,” he groans. “Oh no. Baby—no, no, no.”
“I thought you—” you sniff, mortified and hurt and very much fooled. “You know I’m bad with jokes.”
He immediately cups your face, panic written all over his own. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I thought you’d yell, not—oh gosh.”
Before you can even process it, he’s kissing you.
Not one kiss.
Many.
Your forehead. Your cheeks. Your nose. The corners of your mouth.
“I’m sorry,” kiss.
“I was teasing,” kiss.
“I would never,” kiss kiss.
“I love your stupid dramatic reactions but I went too far,” kiss.
You try to stay upset, you really do, but he keeps peppering your face with soft, frantic smooches until you’re laughing despite yourself.
“Jaehyun,” you protest weakly, “stop—”
“Nope,” he says, kissing you again. “This is my apology tour.”
He presses a lingering kiss to your lips this time, slower, gentler, until the hurt melts into warmth.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.
“I’m really sorry,” he says softly. “I won’t joke about it again.”
You sigh, hands sliding up into his hair—still long, still safe.
“…You scared me.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “I felt awful the second your voice changed.”
You look up at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He smiles, relieved. “Extremely.”
You tug him closer by the hair, just a little. “And for the record—if you ever actually cut it without telling me—”
He kisses you again to shut you up. “I won’t.”
“…Promise?”
“Promise.”
You hum contentedly, playing with his hair again like nothing happened.
Jaehyun exhales, resting his chin on your shoulder.
Note to self, he thinks.
Never fake hair violence again.
And for the rest of the night, he lets you hold onto him a little tighter—just in case.
summary: fate delivers you han jisung on a silver platter – he's the key to finally taking down your worst enemy, his uncle, the governor Han Yujun. You're ready to force what you need out of him by any means necessary, but it quickly becomes clear that you might not have to.
word count: 8k words
author's note: oh my god!! it's here!! this series has been in the works for 4 months and has its origin in this ask my love @stayconnecteed sent me. the beginning is even still similar, though I did edit it, so I recommend reading it again, even if you're familiar. this is a big story, about love, yes, but also about trauma and chosen family and how to go on despite it all. and I hope you will love them all as much as I do. but enough waffling, here we go!!!!
warnings: mentions of physical violence, mentions of past sexual assault. if either of these things are big triggers for you, please note these will be themes in this story. heed the series warnings in the masterlist!
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
series masterlist // skzms masterlist
< epigraph - chapter II >
It doesn't make sense. It's all you can think as you drag your tired eyes over the same perfectly drawn, painstakingly decorated map over and over again. One of your own, Seungmin’s own, always impeccable handiwork, one that looked similar, but just not the same lies abandoned to your left.
"Penny for your thoughts, Captain?"
You had forgotten he was still here. When you look up, his feline eyes are boring into yours, deep and dark and permeating. He was too attractive for his own good, standing there with his hips cocked to the side, his white shirt half undone, wiping the leftover grime and blood from his bruised knuckles.
“Nothing, just wondering if I’m missing something,” you murmur, your eyes falling back down to the paper in front of you. The wood of the ship creaks, the floor swaying under your feet. It was going to be a stormy night.
Minho sighs, dropping the bloodied and dirty rag onto the floor, which you send him a dirty glare for. But he leaves it there, instead rounding the big, heavy table to stand behind you.
His hands slide over your hips confidently but gently, caressing your hip bones before sliding up to wrap around your waist. Then he steps closer, presses his solid chest against your back, hooking his chin over your shoulder to look down at what you're seeing. One of his hands slips under the material of your shirt, runs over your skin in a way that makes your focus slip. But the frustration persists.
"This map seems like nonsense," you sigh out, turning the strange map over again. "Maybe that bloodbath today was for nothing."
The bloodbath that was the hijacking of a government ship from the man you’ve been trying to take down for years. You had killed them all, except for a handful of them, sending them sailing north in their shoddy lifeboats.
Minho scoffs behind you as his hand splays over your lower belly and presses you closer against his body.
"Then we still got to off some of those government pigs, that's a win in my book," he grumbles out darkly before he presses a wet kiss to the side of your neck. "Plus, we still have him."
Right. Him.
Minho's lips drag over your neck gently, sensually, soft and hot, making heat pool deep in your abdomen. His hands caress your body, and you can feel him starting to fill out against your ass. You know where this is leading, but you have work to do yet.
"Tell Chan to get him."
Minho's lips stop their journey over your skin with the barest perceptible sigh before he makes his way over to the door, sticking his head out to speak to the man standing sentry in front of your office. You may be fucking your second in command, but he still would never dare disobey captain's orders. Minho's good like that; otherwise you would've never let him get this close to you.
Chan's heavy footsteps disappear down the corridor and Minho closes the door softly, makes his way back over to you. His hands come back to your hips, squeezing the flesh softly.
"Any plans for the questioning? Should I get the kit?"
You raise an eyebrow at him.
"He's the governor's nephew, I doubt we need to resort to physical violence to get him to speak."
Minho smirks at you, visibly pleased that he finally has your attention because he leans in slightly, rubbing his nose over your cheek.
"Oh, we'll break him so quickly," he whispers with a dark smile. He's staring down at your lips as he pulls you closer, tentatively brushing his lips against yours at first, as if to see if you'll pull away, before he finally kisses you properly. Parting your lips, you swallow the little moan that falls from his lips when your tongue slides against his. But the kiss is cut short when heavy footfall and angry voices sound from the hallway. Minho pulls away reluctantly. He swipes some spit off the corner of your mouth with his thumb, but doesn't move his hand from where it’s resting against your waist, even as the door opens. It's an open secret, the fact that he's closer to you than even a second in command should be, though nobody dares acknowledge it.
Occasionally, Minho liked to stake his claim like this – and you let him. After all, Minho was also known as the man who would carve the skin from any man's bones if they so much as dared to look at you the wrong way.
The door slams open, revealing Chan and Changbin, their faces angry as they drag in a bundle of green silk and floppy brown hair. The young man is cursing and thrashing around wildly, throwing insults with a surprising venom, until his eyes fall on you and Minho. He falters slightly, eyes blinking rapidly, before they narrow again, and he goes back to kicking out.
"I suggest we tie this one to a chair, he's feral," Changbin spits out, and you just nod, gesturing for them to proceed. Minho's thumb rubs smooth circles over your hipbone. It’s a soothing action, entirely at odds with the chaos in front of you. Sometimes you wonder how he does it.
"Get your hands off me, you brutes," the young man snarls as Changbin shoves him down onto a chair. Chan kneels down to secure his leg, but the guy kicks out, the tip of his expensive brown leather boot almost catching Chan in the chin.
Within seconds, Minho disappears from your side, walks over and cracks the back of his hand across the man's round cheek, making his head snap to the side. He freezes like that before he lifts his head and stares up at Minho, eyes wide in shock, blinking up at him through a curtain of his hair. You think you see Minho hesitate, before he turns around and walks back to your side. But it seems to have taken some wind from his sails because he stops resisting so much, only haphazardly tugging at his restraints as Chan and Changbin finish tying him down.
A bright red hand mark remains on the man's cheek where Minho struck him, and you can't help but think that it's almost a shame to deface such a pretty face.
Because that's what the man is. Pretty. Soft brown, mid-length hair that falls a little past his ears, falling over his big, dark eyes constantly, which seems to irk him because he keeps tossing his head to get it out of the way. His cheeks are round, look like they would be soft to the touch, and his lips are pink and plump and small and almost constantly pursed into a pout of disapproval.
And he's dressed well: a green silk coat, that probably cost as much as the ship you just sank, draping over his wide shoulders. He wears nothing but a simple white tank underneath it, exposing honeyed skin stretching over defined collarbones. There's a little silver cross dangling from his neck.
"Fucking finally," Chan curses out as he secures the last knot.
"Thank you. You may leave," you say, your voice as calm and collected as ever. Chan and Changbin nod and plod out of the room. When the door falls closed, there's silence.
"You're the captain?" the man asks, surprise on his face. Your eyes narrow. Oh, great. Another one.
"I am. Is that a problem?" you ask, icily, and feel Minho's hand sneak around your waist. The man's eyes follow the movement, too, and then a faint blush creeps up his neck. He shakes his head.
"Now," you say as you slowly make your way around the big desk, leaning yourself against it and crossing your arms as you keep an eye on the man in front of you. Minho follows you, coming to stand a few feet next to you, hand on the handle of his knife.
"What is your name?"
"Han," the man mumbles out, "Han Jisung."
The name confirms it. You really did somehow manage to abduct Han Yujun’s nephew. Jackpot. You don’t even try to hide the triumphant grin that tugs at your lips. It seems to unsettle him.
"How’s your uncle?" you ask casually and the man, Jisung, narrows his eyes.
"How would I know? He put me on that stupid ship weeks ago, even though I told him it was a bad idea. But he never listens, does he," Jisung rambles, his eyebrows knitted together. You throw a glance at Minho, who looks back at you, perplexed. This may turn out to be your easiest job yet.
"Why was it a bad idea?" you ask gently, taking a step closer to Jisung. He’s still scowling, a dangerous glint in his eyes that’s entirely at odds with the way he’s rambling, seemingly without a filter.
"B-because I hate him. I hate him and his stupid cronies who always touch my ass and his corrupt fucking government. Like, do you have any idea how many people are starving in our city?"
He's still rambling when you slowly crouch down in front of him. The fact that you're suddenly below his eye level makes Jisung’s monologue stutter to a halt. He exhales a shaky breath."If you hate it
all so much, why are you sitting in front of us dressed in green silk?" you purr and Jisung's pink lips part slightly. It’s a bait question, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He tugs at his restraints, and the movement makes Minho take a cautious step closer to you. But there’s no real intent behind his movements.
"Well, I still had a ship to commandeer, a reputation to uphold. The men already didn't respect me. Had to lock my door every night, and they still tried to break it down …"
You can feel Minho fidget next to you.
"Did you not have a second-in-command?" Minho snarls out from beside you, and Jisung looks up at him, a cynical smile on his face.
"Sent him over the gangplank on day three because he assaulted me. It's just been me ever since."
You watch carefully as Minho scoffs, affecting indifference, but you don’t miss the way his knuckles turn white on the handle of his knife.
You look at Minho and Minho looks at you, and a wordless moment later, Minho leans down into Jisung's space. Jisung sucks in a breath and straightens his back, trying to move away as Minho leans closer and closer. Minho supports his hand on the chair behind Jisung's back and watches closely as Jisung blinks up at him and then throws you a panicky glance.
"Are you gonna kill me?" he whispers, his eyes big and round and watery.
You chuckle and Minho's lips curl into a devious smile.
"We won't kill you," you say. "Instead, I'd like to make you an offer."
Minho stands back up and Jisung’s body relaxes slightly, though he stays alert, shifting uncertainly when Minho starts pacing around him.
“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I’m sorry to disappoint, but my uncle will probably not even bail me out. A tragedy in the family would play right into his campaign right now,” Jisung says bitterly, his lips pulled into an ironic snarl, “or he would bail me out only to drown me in the harbour.”
You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side as you watch Jisung for any sign of a lie. Though, again, there is none. Strange boy.
“Just how much do you hate your uncle?” you ask quietly, and Jisung’s snarl deepens.
“More than you can even imagine. And he hates me just as much.”
You blink at him for a beat before you decide to take the leap. You stand up. Jisung’s eyes follow you up automatically.
“I want to offer for you to join us,” you say calmly, and Jisung freezes, staring at you with wide eyes. “If you hate your uncle as much as you say you do, and you’re really that against what he’s doing, then you’re on the right ship. We’ve been working to take him down for years.”
Jisung’s face gives nothing away as he ponders your offer, and you realise you may have underestimated him slightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Minho shift his weight from one foot to the other. So he’s feeling it, too.
“And what if I don’t? Want to join you, I mean,” Jisung asks carefully, and you smile at him and shrug, but you can feel the darkness swirl in your chest. You let some of it filter into your smile, and Jisung tenses in response. Perceptive. Definitely underestimated him.
“Then you can rot in our cell until we dock at our next safe harbour in about two months. And we’ll see if we can get some money out of your uncle, what he does with you after, I don’t care,” you say casually and look up at Minho who’s smiling at you. There’s a dark glint to his eyes that you know all too well.
“And if your uncle doesn’t pay, I’m sure someone else will. Pretty boy like you should fetch an equally pretty price,” Minho adds, looking down at Jisung with an eery smile, as his eyes flit all over the younger man’s flushed face.
You know Minho is bluffing, but Jisung doesn’t, and his pokerface is slipping now, his red cheeks not helping his case as his eyes race around the room like he’s trying to weigh his options. You decide to let him stew in it for a bit.
“Chan!” you yell, relishing in the way Jisung nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound. Chan walks in and you motion towards Jisung vaguely.
“Han Jisung, take your time to think over our offer. When you’ve decided, let Chan know, and he’ll arrange for us to see each other again. Otherwise, I will see you in two months, to hand you off to the highest bidder.”
You have to rip your eyes away from the spectacle that is Jisung’s flushed, panicked face and nod at Chan.
“Take him back to his cell.”
Chan complies, untying Jisung’s feet from the chair. This time, the young man doesn’t fight it, just sits there, his brows furrowed, his eyes trained on you, and it’s like you can see the gears turning in his head. He’s still staring at you as Chan tugs him to his feet and drags him to the door.
You wait for the footsteps to fade down the hall before you turn to Minho. He’s already looking at you.
“Do you think that offer is a mistake?” you ask him, and he purses his lips, thinks for a second. Then he shakes his head.
“I think the boy’s got nowhere else to go,” he responds, “and isn’t that how most of us found our way here?”
He gives you a crooked smile, eyes trailing over your face, and you remember the first time you met Minho.
It was a stormy day, brutal winds, howling around the sails, whipping ice-cold drops of rain into your freezing face. You were ambushed, stupidly, all your fault, really, getting into strange waters during a storm like this. As so often, Jeongin and his perfect eyesight saved you, flying down the sails in the late afternoon gloom, raising the alarms as quietly and quickly as he possibly could.
Now, you and your men were fighting tooth and nail, your 25 against the other ship’s 20, and you were winning – the last part wasn’t a surprise. Everyone in these waters knew not to fuck with you. You and your crew were the undisputed masters, and only fools would ever cross you. Turns out, these were fools. But they were paying for it now.
You took a moment to escape to the quarterdeck to survey the scene. Chan and Changbin, the muscle of the ship, were on the other ship, taking down pirates easily, brutally, efficiently. Your plank was protected by Hyunjin, your first mate, but coincidentally also the best shot in the seven seas. Your other men were dotted around, fighting wherever they found the enemy, beating the other crew by a mile. Good.
You saw something glint from the corner of your eye and started, whipped your head up in alarm. Up in the fighting top of the main mast of the enemy ship sat a man about your age. He sat up there, away from the action, looking the picture of relaxation, kicking his legs, twirling a knife between his nimble fingers. His hat sat next to him on the wood, his head uncovered, shaggy black hair slicked back with the rain, revealing an angular, criminally handsome face, and intelligent, feline looking eyes.
He didn’t look away, not breaking eye contact even for a second as he watched you, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away, something about him–
You felt the air shift around you before you heard him, the heavy, lumbering brute that was charging at you. Unsurprisingly, he was not just lumbering but also predictable, pulling his fist too far back so you easily dodged his first punch, then the predictable other one. It took you about 20 seconds, two hard punches to the ears, a knife in the stomach and a kick to his gut to take care of him, tipping him over the side of the ship unceremoniously, and when you looked up, the man was still looking at you, and he was as calm as before, seemingly unaffected by the fact that you had just killed one of his mates, potentially one of his friends. Your eyebrows furrowed further, but again, you were interrupted, and this time all thought of the stranger left your head when your navigator, Seungmin’s panicked voice rung from the fray on the main deck.
“Captain!” he yelled, his voice full of panic, and your head snapped over to where he was leaning over Jeongin, who was holding his shoulder, dark blood seeping through his fingers. Ice-cold panic surged through your entire body.
“Shit,” you breathed, your cutlass clattering to the floor as you vaulted over the railing of the quarterdeck, weaving through the fighting to get to them as fast as you could. The bleeding was bad, Jeongin’s face an unhealthy shade of white, but it looked like he might survive. You needed him to survive. You helped Seungmin drag Jeongin’s shivering body into the hallway below the deck, barricading the door behind you, so nobody could follow you, and ran for your surgeon.
As soon as Jeongin was somewhat stable, you and Seungmin left him and made your way back above deck, where your crew had rounded up the last four pirates from the enemy ship on their deck. The man you had seen on the top wasn’t among them, and you felt a stab of disappointment and, if you didn’t know any better, grief.
Changbin gave you a small bow as you walked over.
“What should we do with these men, captain?”
You took a long look at them, watching calmly as one of them gathered spit in his mouth and spat at you, a thick glob of it landing on your boot. You looked at the spit, then the man, then Changbin.
“That one? In a boat, alone, no provisions,” you ordered and Chan was already moving, dragging him up and over to one of the lifeboats.
“The others,” you said slowly, watching the rest of the men cower in fear, avoiding your eyes, “You have the option to join my crew. If you choose not to, I’m feeling nice. Boat, enough provisions for a few days. Under the condition that you never, ever draw your sword against me or mine ever again.”
But none of the men took your offer, so you let your crew deposit them into a boat and send them off. They would probably be fine, the sun was set to rise on a clear day in the morning, and if they were smart, they could find their way back to land. If they weren’t, well, then you were glad they didn’t take your offer. There was no margin for error out here. Davey Jones took no prisoners.
You watched calmly as Chan and Changbin set about looting what they could from the ship, standing in the drizzling rain of the waning storm as they hauled crates upstairs, stuck around until they doused the ship in oil and set fire to it. The remaining raindrops crackled in the flames, the heat of the burning ship barely warming you, only making you more aware of the chill that sat deep in your shaking limbs and aching bones. When the ship was mostly burned, you nodded to your men, spoke a word of congratulations, and turned towards your cabin. But before you could open the heavy door that led below deck, a heavy thump of something hitting the deck sounded behind you, followed by the sound of yelling and the metallic swish of 20 swords being drawn.
You whipped around and came face to face with the man from the top, his features even more striking, his eyes even darker, more dangerous up close. An undeniable relief washed through you at the sight of him. Something told you that it would have been a shame if he had just been killed. But instead, he must’ve hid in Jeongin’s abandoned lookout post before he jumped from your main mast onto the deck. A bold move, considering the 25 men that immediately surrounded him, swords and knives drawn.
But the man didn’t seem to care. He stood there, shoulders squared, chest rising and falling with even breaths, his feline eyes boring into yours, unreadable, deep, beautiful. Then he drew his knife from his scabbard, placed it in his upward-facing palms and got on his knee, bowing his head.
Your whole crew was stunned into silence.
“What’s your name?” you asked loudly.
“Lee Minho,” the stranger answered, without lifting his head, his voice muffled by the material of his coat.
“What are you expecting from joining this crew?”
“A captain who cares for their crew, a captain who stands for something,” the man, Minho, said resolutely and without hesitation, and you blinked your eyes in surprise.
“So you know me?”
“I heard much of you, captain,” his answer came immediately, his voice still as sure as it was in the beginning, “I was hoping I would meet you one day, to see if the rumours were true.”
“What rumours have you heard then?” you said with a smirk, and some of your crew laughed, easing the tension. You made eye contact with Hyunjin over to your left, who raised an eyebrow at you, then Chan, who looked puzzled.
“That you’re ruthless, but fair. That you protect your crew like family. That you fight the good fight,” Minho said, and then nobody was chuckling any more. He was serious.
You walked over to the man until you were sure he could see the tips of your boots in his vision, waited for a second. But he didn’t raise his head, a sign of obedience that spoke of the truth of his words more than any promise ever could. Slowly, leisurely, you reached down and tapped his cheek, prompting him to raise his head. It was only when his gaze met yours again, that you suddenly realised what you’d missed these last few minutes. Something red-hot shivered down your spine. Danger. Sparks. Heat.
“What role were you hoping to get on my ship? I have to tell you, we’re pretty fully staffed.”
You weren’t, but he didn’t have to know that. He was still staring into your eyes. Something about the way he looked at you set you on fire, like your soul knew him already. It took everything in you to keep your steady eyes on him.
“I want to be your second-in-command,” he stated, and surprised murmurs broke out all around you. You raised your hand to silence them and nodded for Minho to continue.
“I saw you out there, you were all alone. A captain should always have someone to have their back.”
You cocked an eyebrow and smirked at him darkly, feigning a confidence that you could feel only the barest remnant of after this big battle, the excruciating wet and cold in your bones. But feigning it helped, distracted you from the sheer power he seemed to have over you.
“If you saw me, I think you saw I can handle myself just fine. Or do you disagree?”
Your men were chuckling all around you again. Lee Minho wasn’t. He shook his head, his eyes dipping down to your shoes briefly, in a sign of submission.
“You can defend yourself, but I think you shouldn’t have to. You’re here to lead, not to fight. Let me fight for you.”
He raised the knife he was still brandishing on his upturned palms higher. A shiver racked down your spine and weariness tugged at your eyes. You didn’t have any fight left in you. And something about him seemed … right. He was different, clearly very intelligent and independent. Despite the heat, the sparks, the danger, your intuition told you to accept him.
So you nodded.
“You can stay. But you will have to earn our trust in order to even be considered for a position that close to me. I don’t fancy getting stabbed in my sleep.”
Lee Minho nodded, still on his knee.
You turned around and nodded to your first mate, Hyunjin.“Hyune,
make sure he gets something to eat and a cabin to sleep in.”
Hyunjin nodded with a slight bow, and you turned around without another word, leaving Minho kneeling in the middle of the deck, in the drizzle, surrounded by your crew.
The man you had just made that same offer, to join your crew, was very different from the type of people you usually accepted. Lee Minho had joined your crew of outsiders almost easily, falling into easy companionship into the group of weirdos, outcasts from society, people who didn’t have anywhere else to go because they were trapped, by people, governments, creditors, pimps. They were all people who were mistreated by the very people, like Han Yujun, you knew from the very first day would be your life’s mission to take down.
Han Jisung was not without means, he was not an outcast in the traditional sense, although the way he spoke about his uncle, the quiet determination in his pretty eyes, his steadfast self-respect, it didn’t feel at all like all the other rich government assholes you had met. No, in a very real way, it all felt … achingly familiar. Like looking into a slightly skewed mirror.
But you forced yourself to be patient, to let him stew until he made his own decision. Though you asked Chan to take him to the baths, to wash his clothes for you and bring him some proper food.
Lee Minho, back when he first joined, managed to worm his way into your crew’s good graces in just a few short weeks. Oddly enough, it felt like he fit right in. And despite his closed off demeanour, his serious, feline eyes, it turned out that the real Lee Minho was a lot gentler. Also observant, steadfast, loyal, honest.
But he was also strong and merciless. The first fight you got involved in, even if you hadn’t appointed him, Minho never left your side, fighting your attackers with a ferocity and precision, a grace in his strong limbs, you had never seen in a pirate before. And he remained by your side when the fight was over, when you crossed the plank to the other ship, when you forced the enemy captain to his knees, when you interrogated and even when you dealt with him afterwards – through all of it, Minho stood two paces behind you on your right, his hand on his knife. The look on his face was determined, yet neutral, never questioning; you felt it that day for the first time, something that you would come to learn was one of the most important things about Minho: his support felt unconditional.
Before you parted ways that night, caked in blood and your hair and clothes reeking of the smoke of the burning enemy ship, his strong hands, the ones that had killed and mauled in your name, found your shoulders with a gentle, yet firm grip. He didn’t speak, just stood there looking at you, searchingly, inquisitively, until you gave him a tired smile. When he seemed satisfied that you were okay, he let his hands fall from your shoulders, bowed and turned on his heels, heading for the crew cabins downstairs. Something small and fragile in you wished he would’ve stayed. It felt dangerously nice to be so cared for.
You appointed Minho your second-in-command not much later.
You have to wait for two days before Chan knocks on the door to your cabin and finally announces that Jisung is asking to see you. You briefly weigh the risk of being alone with your captive, whether you should send Chan to find Minho up on deck – but you figure you will be able to defend yourself, no matter how feisty he was the other day. Plus, you have a feeling this one might need a bit of a gentler hand.
So you ask Chan to get him and wait, patiently, leaning against the front of your heavy desk, dark brown booted feet crossed at your ankles. The footsteps that walk up to your door this time are much calmer, one set of heavy steps you easily identify as Chan, the other much softer, more meandering in the way they find their footing.
There’s a low muttering exchange of words before Chan knocks and enters, pushing Jisung in front of him.
“Do we need to tie you to a chair again or are you going to be a good boy?” you ask Jisung, in lieu of a hello, and he narrows his eyes slightly, nose tipping skywards.
“I- I’m perfectly fine like this, thank you.”
You quirk one eyebrow at him, make a show of shrugging at Chan before you dismiss him. But Chan hesitates by the door.
“Are you sure? Should I get …” he starts, but you raise your hand to cut him off. His mouth snaps shut immediately.
“I’m sure. I would prefer it if you didn’t question my ability to question my captive. Leave us.”
Chan nods tersely, face burning as he bows.
“I’ll be right out here,” he says loudly, throwing a warning glance at Jisung before closing the door behind him.
You let your eyes finally fully fall on the young man in front of you.
He’s still in the same clothes from the day you captured, but they look like they have been washed. He looks fine, too, clean and well-rested, his soft brown hair still falling into his eyes in messy waves. Still pretty, you observe. He doesn’t say anything, just waits for you to speak with his lips pursed into his indomitable pout.
“You look like they’ve been taking care of you well, just like I asked,” you say finally and watch him blink at you warily.
“They have …” he says cautiously, and you raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing around your lips.
“What? Do you have any complaints? Surely, it’s not the food,” you ask in an effort to make him lighten up, but Jisung doesn’t respond, only jerkily shakes his head.
“Where’s your guard dog?” he suddenly asks, too sharply, too loudly.
Both of your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, annoyance starting to lick at your neck.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you say calmly, but dangerously, giving Jisung another chance to change his approach before you shove him right back into his cell, this time without such courtesy as you’ve shown him so far. Jisung falters briefly, before he bristles again.
“About your height, anger issues, looks like a greasy cat, smells like one, too,” Jisung supplies feistily.
Irritation starts to bubble deep in your gut, and you try hard to swallow it down, though the tremor in your voice is impossible to control.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with the power dynamics in a situation like this, pretty boy,” you start icily, taking very slow, calculated steps towards Jisung, “but I’m the one who told my men to allow you to bathe, I’m the one who told them to bring you some of their food, and I’m the one who will decide whether I send you to starve in a boat by yourself tonight, sell you to a slave master in two months, or kill you myself. right. now.”
By now, you’re face to face with him, so close your breath puffs against his skin with every exhale, your eyes roving over his flushed cheeks, the little birthmark next to his mouth. When he still doesn’t say anything, you place a gentle hand on his chest before you shove him, suddenly, and with all your strength-
Jisung reels, stumbles backwards, eyes widening as he trips over his own feet, and you watch coldly as he slams into the hard floor with a loud thud and a groan. The door flies open and Chan is in the room within milliseconds, knife drawn and ready. He gives you a panicked once-over, then glares at Jisung, who’s still groaning on the floor.
“Take him back,” you say coldly and Chan automatically straightens up when he hears the ice in your voice, “and this time? Give the spoiled brat the regular treatment.”
Chan hauls Jisung to his feet without another word, his grip on his arm more than painful if Jisung’s hiss is anything to judge by. He drags Jisung to the door unceremoniously, but Jisung struggles.
“Wait!” he yells, but Chan keeps moving. Good to know your station as captain is still intact. “Wait, wait, captain, please.”
Captain. You look at Jisung expectantly as he is being dragged away.
“I’m sorry, wait, please,” he stammers out, louder, yanking at his restraints, tries to get his arm out of Chan’s grip, though it clearly hurts him. He looks at you pleadingly, and you don’t know what possesses you, but you decide to hear him out.
“Chan, stop,” you order, and Chan does so immediately. Jisung stops struggling and breathes out a sigh of relief. He winces when he tries to move his arm, his breathing laboured from his struggle.
“Captain,” he says, with emphatically, slightly bowing his head, “I … I want to join you.”
He … what?! You huff out a shocked laugh. Even Chan snorts, staring at the young man like he lost his mind.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you breathe out and Jisung grimaces, but stays silent. “You come in here with an attitude like that and then only change your mind at the prospect of shitting into a bucket for the next two months, and you expect me to believe you?!”
“Fuck,” Jisung curses, and you laugh again.
“Yeah, fuck’s about right. Should’ve thought this through.”
Jisung shakes his head. Chan starts tugging at his arm and Jisung starts talking, his words so fast you can barely make them out.
“No, no, I already … I’m … I’m not good at this, okay, scratch that, I’m bad at it. Always been bad at diplomacy. My uncle never failed to tell me, trust me. But in my defence, I have never been abducted before and,” Jisung starts babbling and both you and Chan watch him, blinking stupidly. “And yes, the prospect of shitting in a bucket is horrible, but even before that, the food wasn’t lost on me, okay. Neither was the bath. I’m just not used to being tied up, at least not in these circumstances,” a nervous laugh, “but my mother has always said my big mouth will get me in trouble one day.”
You look at Chan and Chan looks at you, and you slowly raise your hand, to wave for him to wait outside. He once again hesitates, but you glare at him and wave him off again. He relinquishes his hold on Jisung’s arm, who grimaces in relief while his mouth is still going a mile a minute, scuffing the toes of his boots into the uneven planks under his feet.
“… and besides, I wouldn’t have worn this outfit if I had known. But that’s beside the point. What I wanted to say was, I want to accept your offer.”
When he finally raises his head and looks at you, his face is no longer flushed, instead you can see the smooth planes of his chipmunk-like cheeks, watch as his eyebrows furrow with determination. He tosses his head back, shakes the hair from his eyes, meets your gaze with his own, shockingly honest one. Something in your gut is telling you to trust this man, and it feels oddly similar to the feeling you had with Chan and Jeongin, and the same feeling you had with Minho.
Jisung watches you carefully as you un-sheath your knife from where it’s hanging at your hip and take a step towards him. His eyes widen, his mouth drawing into a perfect little o as he stumbles back, almost tumbling to the floor all over again.
“I’m sorry, okay, I thought I made it clear I didn’t mean it – I- Please don’t kill me!”
He squeaks when his back hits the wall, and he cowers in on himself. How he could go from so feisty and angry to so cute and anxious is beyond you. He’s … very different from the rest of you, and you briefly wonder how much trouble that alone could land you in. But then again, you had never turned anyone away just because they were weird. Quite the opposite, it’s what had kept you all stuck together like this.
He’s still cowering, squeaking again when he feels the cold metal press against his thin shirt. You slice through the rope, and he jumps, his arms sliding from where they had been crossed against his back.
His eyes fly open when he realises he’s no longer bound, and he blinks up at you, eyes wide and cheeks puffed out in shock, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at just how ridiculous he looks. Like someone drew him.
“Don’t make me regret this,” you say quietly before you re-sheath your knife and turn around, walking back to your desk and leaning against it again, just like you had when he had first entered. For all intents and purposes, to anyone, even Chan, it would probably look like you were the picture of relaxation. But your whole body was pulled taut as soon as you turned your back on him. Just because your gut feeling tells you to trust him doesn’t mean you’re an idiot.
But the only thing Han Jisung does is walk closer to you one you’re settled against your desk, rubbing the red marks of the ropes on his wrists, the spot where Chan had grabbed him so roughly, a slightly disgruntled look on his face.
“So, you said you wanted to join us?” you say carefully and Jisung straightens up and nods, bowing slightly.
“I want to join you, Captain, if you’ll have me.”
So polite.
“Why?” you ask simply, and he blinks at you. You nod for him to go on.
“Because … because I’m bad at politics, especially the one my uncle is so good at. Like, I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m a pretty bad liar, and I’m pretty sure that’s all my uncle does. Besides, I don’t want to be good at his kind of politics, the kind that starves people and runs them out of their homes and …” he swallows thickly, and you watch him closely. Still, you couldn’t find a single indication that he was lying.
“And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” Jisung adds, suddenly overly interested in the shining leather of his boots, “my uncle might kill me or put me on another ship with men whose only interest is my ass, I have no friends because all I ever did was politics, and my parents are fucking dead.”
His voice breaks slightly at the end, before he chuckles, humourlessly, tosses his head nonchalantly.
“It’s probably stupid that I’m laying out all my cards like this, but like you just reminded me, you hold all the power here.”
He raises his head and when he looks at you now, his big brown eyes are glassy, though his lips are pursed resolutely. There it is again. You make up your mind then.
“We’re all in a similar boat here, pun intended,” you offer carefully. He chuckles slightly and sniffles once, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. He’s so … cute. The thought of anyone touching him without his consent made a familiar, ugly hatred burn deep in your gut.
“None of us had anywhere else to go when we first joined, but now we have found a sense of belonging. The others will tell you their own stories on their own time if they wish to, but rest assured, we were all lost once. Lost and angry and wronged.”
Jisung nods, his eyes glued to yours so attentively it almost made you nervous.
“And …,” you hesitate, something that feels foreign to you, “you’ll be safe here. Nobody will … try to hurt you here, in any way, or … touch you without your consent.”
“Yeah?” Jisung asks, his face still determined, but his voice a quiet, hopeful thing. God, you swear your heart would crack if you still felt like you had one.
You nod gently.
“We’re a family, family should never hurt each other.”
The dark, cynical disappointment buried deep in his eyes is painfully familiar. You wonder if he can see it in your eyes, too. You clear your throat, assuming your ‘captain voice’ again.
“Let’s leave it here for today,” you announce, and it’s like Jisung shakes himself out of it, stands up straighter and nods again. Cute little bobblehead, you think. “And tomorrow, I think we should have a long conversation about how far you’re willing to go against your uncle. Because I know family can be a bit–“
You’re interrupted by the door flying open so hard that it rattles on its hinges. Minho barges in, his eyes wild, his shoulders squared, fists balled by his sides. His gaze falls to Jisung’s untied hands, panic all over his face for a brief, unguarded second, before he collects himself. His eyes race over your body, inspect you for any sign of injury or discomfort, but the relief when he comes up empty does nothing to assuage his panic. He walks to your side, his hands reaching towards you before falling helplessly at his side.
“Are you fucking insane?” he hisses out, his breath coming out in short bursts. He looks wild, and yet his eyes are so much softer than he ever allows himself in front of people. “Why is he untied? Why are you alone with him? Why didn’t you tell Chan to get me?”
Your heart soars, plummets, constricts deep in your chest, the panic in Minho’s eyes mingled with something you can’t think too much about, let alone name, making your head swim. You have to take a steadying breath. Then you do what you have to do.
“Minho,” you say coldly and Minho takes a step back as if wounded, his face slipping into his cold pokerface, though the pain that flashes through his eyes feels like it’s stabbing you in the heart. “I will interrogate who I wish, how I wish it. Chan didn’t get you because I asked him not to. Understood?”
Minho nods mechanically, eyes glued to yours as he searches and searches your gaze for any of the warmth that’s usually there. You keep it locked away and it aches. His gaze falls on Jisung and his eyes narrow.
“You,” he spits out and Jisung jumps slightly, going pale under Minho’s wrathful glare.
“Jisung is one of us now,” you say matter-of-factly, and Minho’s gaze snaps back to yours, widening in surprise.
“You just made that decision,” Minho says, as is his habit, sounding out a question like it's a statement.
“He just had a conversation with his captain and said captain made that decision, yes,” you say drily, and Minho swallows before lacing his hands behind his back and straightening his back. He’s no longer looking at you, eyes fixed vaguely on the wall behind you, but you can see his hands shaking. You want to throw up. You chance a brief glance at Jisung and to your relief, he doesn’t seem to be aware of all the implications crackling through the air, the only thing he seems to see is his new captain putting her crew in their place.
“Then the captain has made her decision,” Minho says calmly, and you nod and suffocate the tendril of tenderness and regret in your chest that makes you want to reach out and trace the delicate curve of his clenched jaw until it relaxes under your touch.
You turn back to Jisung, who’s staring up at Minho with something between awe and fear in his eyes. You clear your throat, and he drags his eyes away from Minho back to you.
“I realise I never introduced you. This is Lee Minho, my second-in-command, my right hand,” you say and Minho briefly nods at Jisung, eyes stony.
“Now,” you add and call for Chan, who walks into the room calmly, though he avoids looking at Minho. He must’ve heard. Great. “Chan will take you to the mess, where you can introduce yourself to some of the other boys. And tomorrow we talk about the other thing.”
Jisung nods at you, throws a nervous glance at Minho, before he turns around and gives Chan a tentative smile, one that Chan half reciprocates before he ushers him out the door, closing it behind him softly.
The silence that follows is deafening. Minho doesn’t budge an inch, eyes still glued to the wall opposite him, even when you turn to him and cross your arms over your chest.
“I can’t have you questioning my authority like that, Min,” you say calmly, gently. Minho eyes flutter slightly, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. “Not in front of the crew or Chan, and especially not in front of the new guy. You hear me?”
Minho nods again, his eyes blinking rapidly now.
“Talk to me, please? Is it because I didn’t let you know that I was talking to him? Is it because I made the decision without you?”
It’s like Minho breaks, disbelief swimming in his beautiful eyes when he stares at you.
“That’s what you think this is about?”
No.
“Yes?” you offer, withering under his gaze. But you stay strong, though where you pull the strength from is beyond you.
“You can make any decision you want. You’re the captain. I trust you,” he says, and you can tell he means it, but you can also see much more than you’re able to handle.
“Then what was that?” you ask even though you know the answer.
“Y/N …” Minho breathes out your name like a promise and a sob threatens to scratch itself out of your throat, “I … You … You have to …”
You bitterly realise just how good you’ve become at your poker face when he stops himself, running his hands through his hair with a choked sigh.
“If you don’t know, then …” he starts again before he shakes his head hard and makes for the door. “It was nothing, captain, nothing at all.”
He leaves without looking back, letting the door fall shut behind him. When the silence envelops you, you finally allow yourself to crumble.
< epigraph - chapter II >
series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi
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WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT!?!?!? THAT'S HOW YOU ENDED THAT CHAPTER??? THANK FUCK I STARTED READING NOW😭😭 I don't think I'd be able to handle having to wait a fucking week for Ch.2😭😭 May you beautiful beautiful soul❤️🩹 what the fuck was this?? This gem? This masterpiece. My chest is filled with anxiety and stress but the BEST kind cause it's filled with so much anticipation and excitement you have NO IDEA!
I'll forever be impressed with you. Really. Truthfully. I'm so excited to see the journey your brain conjured up because of a few thoughts from another moot😭✨ it baffles me how you guys not only get the ideas from a few sentences spoken in jest but also the ability to put those ideas out so beautifully into something that can make me feel THIS MUCH❤️🔥
Now, onto the notes I made while reading because I'm putting my entire soul into reading this and making sure you understand just how amazing it is of you to give this to us FOR FREE
Minho's lips drag over your neck gently, sensually, soft and hot, making heat pool deep in your abdomen. His hands caress your body, and you can feel him starting to fill out against your ass. You know where this is leading, but you have work to do yet.
Only a few paragraphs in and the room is already starting to get warmer😭 damn May. Yk I'm a sucker for physical affection and the way you depict the characters' actions in your stories always send my heart into a frenzy. It doesn't help that you make it so easy to get immersed into your stories either. Its so easy for me to just, be there, while reading so everything just feels 1000x better.
"I suggest we tie this one to a chair, he's feral," Changbin spits out...
I snorted🤣
“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I’m sorry to disappoint, but my uncle will probably not even bail me out. A tragedy in the family would play right into his campaign right now,” Jisung says bitterly, his lips pulled into an ironic snarl, “or he would bail me out only to drown me in the harbour.”
Oh god...I'm getting teary eyed already😭 this poor man💔 I wouldn't say I sympathize, idk what that feels like but even then, I can feel it. In the way you wrote his pain I can somewhat feel his pain, imagine it even just slightly and it hurts and I love that. You portrayed his pain so well❤️🩹
Then he drew his knife from his scabbard, placed it in his upward-facing palms and got on his knee, bowing his head.
When I tell you I audibly gasped. Had no idea what he would do but I wasn't expecting that. I'm absolutely loving these individual yet familiar persona's so much already!!! I can't wait to meet everyone else! This and that brief moment with Seungmin and Jeongin. Reader treats her crew like family and Jeongin gets injured and the worry hit me like a bullet. I knew he'd be okay, this is chapter one and you aren't as cruel as some other authors ik😭 but I was still worried. He and Seungmin seem close and I can't wait to see if any light is shed on their story within this masterpiece.
...one of the most important things about Minho: his support felt unconditional.
Oh I loved that. It made my heart jump a little. I love that. Unconditional support, something very foreign to me😅 maybe that's why it hit me harder than it probably should've.
“Captain,” he says...trouble one day.”
That entire part was beautiful, made me giggle😂 It was funny with a sense of...melancholy? Is that the word I wanna use? I think so lol
"...and my parents are fucking dead.”
No! Bad Cubbs! Don't laugh! Just cause it sounded funny when you read it doesn't mean it's funny. This is a serious situation dammit!😭 I had to reread the entire thing to re-immerse myself🥲 and once again, his hurt was FELT💔 gosh you're so amazing at this. Blame my own twisted sense of humor and laughter as a coping mechanism for giggling myself out of the immersion🙏🏼 forgive me
You want to throw up.
I fucking do too, damn. I don't like this😭 I'm anxious now💔 My adrenaline was on the edge of its seat with its foot hovering over the "Floor It" pedal all the way until the end of the chapter 😭
I don't know how many times I'll say it. You're fucking phenomenal. Remind me to go catch up on Sharing is Caring after this since I never got to finish it after Ch.1
summary: backstory, jisung is introduced to the crew, the captain and minho have a moment
word count: 7.2k words
warnings: mentions of parent death and pet death (the latter only briefly); attempts at sexual assault; murder; mental health and trauma; nothing graphic! but please be mindful of these warnings!
author's note: aksjdahs thank you so much for all the love on chapter I!!! I swear, this is just the beginning. there is so much more to come. without further ado, have some backstory (check warnings!), jisung meeting the crew, and dramatic man apocalypse minho.
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
series masterlist // skzms masterlist
< chapter I - chapter III >
When you were born, you didn’t cry. They had pulled you from your wailing mother’s womb, and your mouth had stayed stubbornly closed. The midwives had whisked you away in a panic, away from your sobbing mother, into the adjoining room, where they watched you blink up at them and prodded at your slowly purpling cheeks until finally, you had opened your tiny little mouth, your eyes turning into tiny little crescents, and screamed. You often wonder if that was the first time you were the reason for your own downfall, the first time your own actions separated you from those you loved, setting the tone for the rest of your life.
When you were nine, you forgot to give your father your lucky necklace when he left for the sea, and he never returned. For years, you kept the necklace pinned to the wall right next to your bed, where it would be the first thing you saw when you woke up and the last thing you saw before you went to sleep. It was a reminder, a warning to yourself. You never wanted to let yourself forget that you were the reason your father was likely dead at the bottom of the sea.
When you were eleven, your mother remarried. Some rich man she had met she never told you where, and when you were twelve, your ‘new father’, as he called himself, got you a puppy. You called him Davy, like Davy Jones. When you were 14, he killed your puppy in front of your eyes as a punishment for breaking a vase you didn’t even break. You saw the maid bump into it while dusting. He made sure you knew that this death, too, was all your fault. That day was the first time the kraken appeared.
The kraken lived in your chest. It was a hideous creature, slimy and much too big for the space it occupied, so much so that every time it would try to stretch and move, you could feel it, pushing your heart to the side, pressing against your ribcage until you thought it would pop, slimy tentacles reaching up into your throat until you felt like you could no longer breathe. It was also angry. Always angry. It would thrash around, throwing itself against the confines of its bone prison so hard you wondered if one day it would crack ribs. Sometimes it would try to climb out of your throat, blocking your airways until you couldn’t breathe any more, and you could taste the bilious slime of it, nearly making you wretch.
Nonetheless, as with everything, after a while, you got used to its presence.
When you were 15, your mother died. One day, she didn’t appear at breakfast and the man you were forced to call ‘father’ didn’t even make an attempt at pretending he was looking for her. They found her that night, beaten to death in an alley. You hoped she didn’t suffer. You tried to swallow your suffering, protect it from you knew not what. The kraken became a constant companion, writhing in your chest, day and night, getting more violent, more unpredictable, more terrifying every day.
When you were 16, your ‘father’ tried to rape you in your sleep, and you stabbed him 25 times. Technically, it was the first blood you had ever drawn, though when it stained your hands, you could feel the ghosts of your father, of your mother, of Davy in its almost preternatural heat. Nevertheless, you couldn’t get yourself to feel remorse. This was the one death that you did not mind on your ledger. The kraken, too, seemed to like the blood.
Afterwards, you stood up, half-heartedly scrubbed his blood off your hands, packed a bag, leaving your father’s lucky necklace hanging on the bedpost, walked to the shore and enlisted with the first crew you found.
You got lucky with that crew, the captain of which had a daughter himself, somewhere far away. You still believe to this day that he’d seen right through you that cold November night, when you had walked up with only a bag and nothing else in the world, unheeding of the cold or the hollers of random men around you. He barely asked questions, you barely answered, but what you did answer, seemed to satisfy him. He took you on, provided you with your own cabin with a lock and key, and swore you to his protection. When you saw your reflection later that night, there was a thick streak of blood high on your forehead.
The Captain, as you all simply called him, took a liking to you, something that you didn’t find easy to trust. But you proved yourself. You were the hardest worker, the sharpest eye, his most intelligent advisor. So soon he made you his first mate, his apprentice, his protégée. He, and a select few of his crew, taught you how to read maps, how to shoot pistols, how to wield every weapon under the sun – and he taught you everything else, like what it meant to be a captain, what it meant to be responsible for a crew of men, what it meant to make good decisions, the right decisions, and when to concede.
You revered the captain, hung on his every word, believed him to be the best man to have ever lived. You followed his orders blindly, to a T, desperate to prove yourself worthy of his trust, his training. You spent three years on his ship, until you were 19. You didn’t think of the future much, but, one day, after you had led the successful capture of an enemy ship, instead of giving the order to loot and burn it, like he usually did, the Captain turned to you and told you that it was yours; that he had taught you all he knew, that he knew you had a bigger purpose in this world, a fight to lead. He also offered you any of his crew, granted they were willing to go, and his name for you to use in any port you may land.
You had taken his gift, had parted ways with him with nothing more than a low bow, the kraken’s arms tightening around your throat as unshed tears stung your eyes, and you had boarded your ship. The Captain had saluted you as his ship turned westward, and you were left on your own, on your own ship, with your own crew, who suddenly called you captain. You never saw the Captain or his crew again, though you knew they were still out there somewhere, because at every port you landed, you asked if they had seen him lately, and without fail, they always said they did. You breathed a sigh of relief when the years passed and you still got the same answer. Slowly, finally, you let yourself believe that his was a life you didn’t claim.
“Shouldn’t you be walking in the front? I don’t know where we’re going.”
Jisung does his best to try and make his voice sound light, careless, but he’s unable to hide the light tremor of insecurity in it. When he looks back, Chan doesn’t smile, only sighs and pushes past him.
As Chan leads him through the corridors, Jisung racks his brain for what he could’ve possibly done to annoy the man. He had been plenty nice the last couple of days, staying to chat with him for a bit when he brought him food to his cell, asking Jisung if he was cold when they were washing his clothes and even letting him borrow his own coat. But now, now that he was officially a part of them, accepted into their midst by their very own captain, that friendly Chan was nowhere to be found. He doesn’t dare ask, won’t ask. He’ll figure it out. His big mouth may get him in trouble, but he’s always managed to get himself out of it.
They don’t walk for long, but to Jisung it nonetheless feels impressive. The whole ship, a large but stupidly fast frigate, was impressive, seemingly even bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. The captain's cabin and office, situated right underneath the quarterdeck, lies at one end of a wooden corridor, the other end of which forks, the big, heavy door to the deck on the right, a staircase leading down on the left. Jisung has made the trip down this staircase several times now, though so far, his trips always led straight into the lowest parts of the ship, into the darkness, where his cell had been.
But now, Chan stops after the first flight of stairs, wordlessly leads Jisung into a big, warm room. Jisung, having only caught brief glimpses of it, had assumed it to be a type of storage area, but now that he’s walking through it, he realises that it’s a living area, and a pretty cozy one at that. The floor is littered with a haphazard collection of colourful rugs, cushions, blankets, in some spots pushed together to form little conversation circles or shoved into a corner to create little nests. Against one wall, there’s a collection of what Jisung assumes to be dumbbells and a variety of other, heavy things, clearly used as weights. Every available wall space is stacked high with board games and books, framing the portholes where the sun streams in unhindered. Jisung wants to stay, look around, but Chan is still walking, aiming straight for a big set of wooden, swinging doors at the far end of the room, and Jisung hurries after him. Distantly, Jisung becomes aware of the clang of spoons on plates and loud chatter and laughter behind the door, and he panics.
Chan doesn’t give him a chance to catch his breath; when they reach the door, he dramatically pushes both doors open with his hands and stops. All the around 30 men, sitting at a collection of long, wooden tables, chattering and spooning up brown stew from their metal plates, fall dead silent as soon as Chan steps aside and reveals Jisung behind him.
It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and sweat starts prickling on Jisung’s neck almost instantly. He wonders what his hair looks like, if his shirt is untucked from when the captain had so offhandedly tipped him over. And the silence won’t end, the only noise in the room coming from the kitchen on the other side of the room, where someone with a shockingly deep voice is singing a sea shanty to himself. Jisung can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and quickly he lowers his head. You already look like a damn squirrel, and now you’re fucking blushing, Jisung, he hears his uncle scream in his head, and he nearly flinches. How is anyone ever supposed to take you seriously if you look like a fucking pussy. Assert your dominance. You’re a Han.
So he lifts his head bravely, though he barely dares look at the faces looking back at him, instead fixing his stare on the wall on the opposite side of the room, squaring his shoulder just slightly as he lets their eyes wash over him.
“This is Han Jisung,” Chan suddenly announces, and Jisung nearly jumps out of his skin. To his left, someone chuckles. Chan’s face is hard, unreadable, and Jisung’s heart picks up its beat again, hammering in his chest uselessly. “He’s the governor’s nephew who we abducted from his ship the other day,” he continues and someone at the far end of the room snorts and mumbles something about how well that ship had burned, then there’s more snickering. It doesn’t seem malevolent, but it’s also definitely not friendly.
“The captain has offered him to become part of our crew,” Chan says then and there’s silence, before whispering breaks out all over the room, “if you have doubts, tell them to me, so I know who to pitch over the side of the ship tonight. The captain has made her decision and if you want to know why, you can ask Jisung yourself. For now, make him feel welcome, you crazy people.”
With that, Chan nods at Jisung, and, to the latter’s horror, leaves the mess, presumably back to his post at the captain’s door. The swinging doors close behind him, leaving Jisung standing in the middle of the room, under the scrutiny of 30 pairs of eyes, with no idea what to do. Does he just sit? Where should he sit? The left table? The right? Should he squeeze in at the end somewhere? No, that will make him look weak, he can’t look weak. You’re safe here, the captain’s soft but firm voice reverberates through his head, and he wants to scoff. He may be safe, but he sure as fuck isn’t welcome. Did Chan have to introduce him as the governor’s nephew?! Well, he supposes they saw him, being dragged kicking and screaming across the plank, shoved down into the hold of the ship.
“I’ve never heard this room so quiet, what the fuck is going on?” the deep voice hollers from the kitchen and Jisung blinks at the doors expecting … well, he doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it sure isn’t a skinny, freckled blonde boy about his age to stride into the mess, wiping his hands on a checkered rag.
“Ah, you’re Jisung!” he exclaims, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he walks towards him with an outstretched hand. “So you took the captain’s offer. Welcome. You won’t regret it.”
He winks at Jisung and Jisung shakes his hand, squeezing it gratefully and trying to smile back at him, but he can tell he’s failing. Because everyone else is still fucking staring.
“My name’s Felix, I’m the cook,” he says lightly and Jisung’s eyes briefly skate over his body. “Oh yeah,” Felix chuckles, “I still have all my limbs. I’m just not a great fighter, so I asked the captain if I could just … not do that, and she agreed.”
Jisung stares at Felix, who’s kind enough not to comment on it, just smiles at him.
“I was about to come out here and eat, but let me fix you up a plate as well. Come,” he says and takes Jisung by the arm, dragging him to a free spot at the end of one of the tables and shoving him onto the bench. Jisung’s wide eyes meet the curious gazes of four men. “Sit here, this is Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin and Hyunjin. Guys, this is Jisung. Why don’t you make him feel welcome, I’ll be right back.”
And with that, Felix flurries out of the room. With Jisung finally seated, a low murmur of conversation finally resumes in the room. Jisung doesn’t remember a single one of the names Felix just rattled off.
“You gave me a really gnarly bruise on my shin,” someone suddenly says, and Jisung snaps his head over at the man he at least knows is Changbin. He grimaces helplessly.
“When we took you to the captain two days ago? And you were kicking and biting and scratching like a feral cat? You really got me in the shin. Still fucking hurts, man.”
“Oh,” Jisung says and blushes. Changbin just raises an eyebrow at him, but Jisung thinks he can see a smile in his eyes, so he takes a chance.
“People usually compare me to a squirrel,” he says lamely, with an uncertain smile, and he’s met with Changbin’s uproarious laughter. It’s so loud he flinches, but he can’t help the little satisfied smile that steals over his face. Finally, he said the right thing. The tall, pretty man next to Changbin gives him a shy smile.
“I like your coat,” he offers gently, and Jisung looks down. Is he making fun of him? He knows he stands out like a sore thumb with it, in his emerald green silk, the coat his uncle had given him for state visits. He did … like the coat, deep down. It made him feel nice. Pretty, even. But he figured it would probably just serve to alienate him further from the new world he had stumbled into. When he looks at the tall man again, he’s smiling, eyes trailing over the fabric. “It’s a very pretty colour.”
Jisung breathes out a quiet thank you, and there’s a beat of silence that weighs on Jisung like a ton of bricks. He needs more of this easy conversation, or he’ll lose his nerve.
“You can borrow it if you want, it would suit you” he says quickly, though he immediately blushes. What is he doing?! These are pirates, and he sounds like a preschooler trying to make friends by lending out his favourite crayons. “I mean, once I have something else to wear because right now, I don’t. So if I gave you this, I’d probably be pretty cold.”
Shut the fuck up, Jisung, he thinks.
But to his surprise, the beautiful man chuckles.
“I’ll help make you more clothes. I actually love sewing, and we collected a bunch of scraps over the past few months,” he says and purses his lips, giving Jisung a once-over. “We’ll make you a new jacket, one that’s more durable, for everyday wear. But we’ll have to make it with a similar cut, it makes your little waist look to die for …”
]Jisung’s breath catches in his throat stupidly at the compliment, and he thinks the man sitting right next to him heard it, if his low chuckle is anything to judge by.
“Stop flirting with the new guy, Hyune,” he teases. His brown hair is shaggy, falls into his eyes that almost disappear when he smiles, drawing up into little crescents. He looks a bit like a fox, Jisung thinks before he can stop himself. Wow, the years of being compared to animals have really done some damage to his brain.
“I’m not flirting with him!” the tall man, Hyune, exclaims, a hand dramatically falling to his chest, “I’m just trying to make sure his best assets are appropriately showcased.”
He grins before he bats his eyes at the man next to Jisung prettily, a wicked little smile on his lips. “Plus, you know I have a crush on you, Innie.”
‘Innie’ next to Jisung rolls his eyes and waves the beautiful man off before he offers Jisung his hand.
“I’m Jeongin, by the way,” he introduces himself kindly as Jisung shakes his big, calloused hand, “I’m the lookout. You’ll usually find me up in the top except at mealtimes, when I condescend to keep these idiots company. And the man trying to dress you up like you’re going on a first date is Hyunjin, he’s our first mate. Think of him as our slave, and he’s much more fun to tease.”
Hyunjin’s face draws into a pout and kicks Jeongin under the table.
“I’m the one who makes sure you animals get fed and have enough soap and rum and know where your weapons are, you should respect me more,” he snips back before he smiles at Jisung. “I suddenly don’t have a crush on Jeongin any more, so the spot has become free. You into men?”
Jisung splutters, his whole face turning bright red. How could Hyunjin just say that?! And so loudly – What if everyone hears? Jisung really doesn’t need more of a target on his back than he already does just by being … well, him. His eyes flicker to the other men, but most of them aren’t even listening, or if they are, just looking at him with interest.
“I-,” Jisung stammers out before he clears his throat, “I do. And women. I kinda … like … everything.”
He expects anything, ridicule, violence – but to his astonishment, Hyunjin nods approvingly.
“You really have found the right ship, my friend,” he declares with a pleased smile.
“Of course, he has. Do I even want to ask why you think so, though?”
Felix’s voice suddenly pipes up next to Jisung as he slides a plate of food in front of him. The smell of hot meat and potatoes wafting from it makes Jisung almost shudder. He didn’t realise just how hungry he was.
“Hyunjin is already prospecting Jisung for his matchmaking projects,” the other tall, quiet man next to Hyunjin says. It’s the first time Jisung hears him speak, and he can’t help but notice how soft his voice is.
Felix chuckles next to Jisung as he hands him a spoon – and Jisung doesn’t hesitate to dig it into the stew on his plate, shovelling a hot spoonful of it into his mouth and moaning around it, much to Felix’s joy.
“Good?” he asks, and Jisung just nods at him, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“So good,” he hums, “so much better than any of the food I’ve had in months.”
Felix giggles again and sends him a bright smile. Jisung thinks he could get used to him.
“I can see the squirrel thing now,” Changbin comments from down the table, points at Jisung’s cheeks, stuffed with meat and potatoes. Jisung ducks his head, eyes widening comically, but relaxes slightly when Changbin gives him a wink and a smirk.
“Changbin and Chan are the brawn to our brain,” Jeongin continues, and Changbin sends him a joking middle finger. “They man our cannons and take turns guarding the captain’s quarters when we’re in a harbour.”
Jisung nods, looks Changbin up and down. It makes sense, him and Chan are … ridiculously buff. And strong. Jisung can attest to the last bit, the bruise on his arm is still a deep purple.
“And the quiet one is Seungmin,” Jeongin concludes, watches Seungmin with a small smile as he lifts his hand, “he’s our navigator. Gets us places, makes sure we don’t run aground on a sandbank or a rock. He’s also a cartographer, one of the best out there. He’s mapped out pretty much every inch of these waters.”
Seungmin looks at Jisung, his face an impassive mask. It makes Jisung almost uneasy.
“I’ve been staring at that fucked up map we found on your uncle’s ship for days, and my head hurts.”
Jisung blinks dumbly.
“Fucked up map?” he asks incredulously, and awkwardness descends on the table. What map? Jisung wonders. He had only had a normal map in his quarters.
Felix gives Seungmin a look.
“Let’s let Jisung settle in first, Seungmin,” he suggests calmly, and Seungmin just shrugs, though his eyes stay fixed on Jisung.
“I really don’t know what map you’re talking about,” Jisung mumbles quietly, feeling the need to defend himself. Seungmin’s eyes are still boring into him, and he pretends he’s suddenly very engaged in mashing a potato into his stew until it has entirely disintegrated.
The swinging doors behind Jisung slam open and Jisung looks up just in time to meet Minho’s eyes. They narrow slightly at him before he saunters over to their table and comes to stand behind Felix, placing his hands on Felix’s shoulders and massaging them lightly.
“My sweet, sweet Yongbok,” Minho lilts with a smile, though something seems off, “is there any food left?”
Felix nods and looks up at him, either entirely unaware of it or choosing to ignore it. Jisung thinks the latter.
“Sure, enough for you and the captain as always, I assume she hasn’t eaten yet either.”
Jisung watches a barely perceptible shadow creep over Minho’s face.
“Changbin’s done, he can bring her some. Can’t you?” Minho sneers as he turns on his heels and walks into the kitchen. Seungmin gives Changbin a look, but Changbin balks. Only when Felix nods towards the kitchen does he sigh deeply and push himself to his feet.
“What’s his deal?” Jisung asks quietly, hesitantly, when the heavy swinging doors close behind him.
“Who? Minho?” Hyunjin asks, surprised.
Jisung nods.
“I’m pretty sure he hates me,” he mumbles around a mouthful of meat.
“Why, did you kick him, too?” Jeongin asks teasingly.
Jisung chuckles, mirthlessly.
“No, he slapped me, actually,” he scoffs out, the memory of it so crystal clear in his head, the shock, the smarting pain, “and called me pretty in like, the least flattering way possible. And earlier, when I was talking to the captain, he only glared at me, like I was the one who made her mad at him or something.”
He thinks he sees Hyunjin throw Felix a glance, and Jisung wonders if he said something stupid.
“The captain was mad? At Minho?” Felix asks, gently, but Jisung can practically feel the subtext. He doesn’t try to figure out what he knows he can’t. He nods.
“We were talking when he suddenly stormed in, all crazy-looking, asking if her all these questions about why she was talking to me alone, asking her if she had gone crazy.”
Jeongin next to him sucks in a breath. Jisung tenses up. He probably went too far. He swings his spoon around in a way that hopes feels casual, dismissive.
“I probably shouldn’t have said all that, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, trying to shove the tension back into whatever Pandora’s box he just unwittingly opened, but obviously, he fails.
The crash of Minho slamming his plate down onto the table in Changbin’s abandoned spot rips Jisung out of his thoughts.
Changbin walks past behind Jisung with a plate in his hand, shooting Minho a dirty glare, one the older man returns tenfold as he all but dismembers a piece of carrot.
“Minho,” Hyunjin starts, his voice so soft it surprises Jisung, “why is Changbin bringing the captain her food?”
Minho doesn’t even look at Hyunjin as he shrugs.
“Why not?”
“Usually, you do that. Usually, you have your meals with her.”
Minho stops his assault on his food and looks at Hyunjin with a sarcastic smile.
“What, am I not welcome here?” he asks, acrid sweetness dripping off his words. But Hyunjin doesn’t budge.
“Of course, you are,” he says, rubbing Minho’s shoulder briefly, before pulling his hand back. “I was just wondering if everything is okay.”
Minho slams his fist down on the table so loud the chatter around them falls silent again as everyone watches.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to imply, Hwang, but I’d recommend you shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” he barks.
Hyunjin lifts both his hands up defensively, an unhappy grimace on his face.
“Calm down, I’m not trying to imply anything, Min, I was just asking if you’re okay.”
Minho rises, slams his spoon onto his plate with a clang.
“I’m just fucking fine. The captain is fine. Everything’s fucking fine, why don’t you mind your own fucking business, all of you,” he snarls, picks up his plate and storms out.
Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh, his head hitting the tabletop with a painful-sounding thud.
“Not your finest work,” Seungmin comments from his side, but his tone is sympathetic. He pats Hyunjin’s shoulder. Jeongin gets up and rounds the table, settling into Minho’s abandoned seat, and tugs Hyunjin into his shoulder quietly. Hyunjin falls readily, his frustrated groan turning into a deep sigh when Jeongin’s arm wrap around him.
Felix next to Jisung claps his hands and gets up, smiling down at Jisung awkwardly, almost apologetically.
“How about we give you a tour and Hyunjin can get a cabin ready for you in the meantime,” Felix suggests, and Jisung recognises it for the hint it is. He nods, tries his best at a non-committal smile, and is almost glad to flee the scene of whatever crew drama he just witnessed.
Jisung gets a tour, gets to see Jeongin press a sweet kiss into Hyunjin’s hair right there in the middle of the deck that makes Jisung look around in a panic to see absolutely nobody batting an eye. If Jeongin sees it, he mercifully doesn’t comment, only smiles and waves to Jisung before he climbs up the sails so fast Jisung feels like he’s getting whiplash from just watching him. Felix drags him along, chattering about the ship and the crew as he shows him around the main deck, making a wide berth around where Minho is lying in a hammock on the forecastle, pointedly not even opening his eyes when he hears their voices.
Felix pointedly ignores him back, pulls Jisung back to the big heavy door that leads below deck, past the split path that leads to the captain’s quarters, where Hyunjin briefly disappears into the captain’s office and where Chan sends Jisung a much nicer smile now, down past the officer’s quarters (“Minho’s quarters,” Felix comments lowly, wiggling his eyebrows as if he’s telling a ghost story, but Jisung can’t muster up more than a tense smile.
He takes him back downstairs, shows him the living area again, tells him which books are worth reading, which games are worth playing (his favourite is jackstones, the set they have is a beautiful copper) and shows him his kitchen, including which things in the cooler are available to be taken as snacks and which are definitely not, because it would result in the downfall of his carefully constructed meal plan.
Then they make their way a story lower, to the gun-ports and the weapons storage, where Hyunjin magically reappears and drags them away before Jisung can even ask about a weapon of his own. His face gets hot when he realises that they don’t trust him yet. Of course.
Felix takes him one layer lower, through the storage rooms and past the cells that Jisung was already much too well acquainted with for his liking, before leading them back up to the common area and through a side door. To Jisung’s surprise, he finds himself in a tight web of hallways, a labyrinth of doors. Hyunjin ducks past him, makes a sweeping gesture with his arms.
“These are the cabins,” Hyunjin announces, grandly, proudly. He pushes the door open to one of them, revealing a decently sized room with two bunk beds, a chest of drawers and a desk. It’s rudimentary, but the pillows look soft, all the sheets made from a patchwork of fabrics that he thinks must be Hyunjin’s doing.
Wait, bunk beds. Does this mean … Jisung feels like someone dumped a bucket of icy water over his head. Would he have to room with a stranger? Get changed in front of him? Go to sleep in front of him? He tries his best to regulate his breathing, but when Felix’s hand hits his shoulder, he’s pretty sure he’s still just staring into the room dumbly. Should he say something? Don’t be a pussy, his uncle yells in his head, you just give them mixed signals.
“Jisung,” Felix says gently, and Jisung shakes out of his reverie with a start. He’s about to apologise, but Felix gives Hyunjin a look, and then he takes Jisung’s hand (not his wrist, his hand, Jisung notices with a shudder) and drags him along the corridor until he kicks open a door.
“This is my cabin,” Felix says slowly, watching as Jisung takes it all in.
This cabin looks just like the other one, except the top bunk looks … lived in. The sheets are somewhat coordinated in colour and crumpled on the bed. There are small candleholders with half burned down candles dotted all around the headboard of the bed. A thick knitted sweater hangs off the bedpost, a dried flower dangles from the porthole. The room seems to be close to the water, but it’s high enough that a single ray of sunshine falls onto the floor. Jisung feels a pang of longing, somewhere deep in a part of his heart he thought was long abandoned. It’s so … comfortable. So homey. He can’t believe he’s on a ship. He hasn’t … hasn’t felt this at home in months.
“It’s … lovely,” Jisung breathes out, distantly aware of Felix giving Hyunjin a smile before he turns back to him.
“How would you like to be my roommate?” Felix asks, and Jisung takes a second to process his question before he starts and turns to stare at Felix dumbly.
“I mean,” Felix continues, his confident demeanour crumbling, eyes suddenly shy, “I have to get up pretty early in the morning to get breakfast started, but unless you’re a super light sleeper, I don’t think I’ll wake you.”
“I sleep like a rock,” Jisung says, it comes out as barely more than a whisper.
Felix’s grin widens.
“So … is that a yes?”
Jisung takes all but two seconds to think about it before he nods, a relieved smile on his face. Felix doesn’t look like he’ll assault him. Felix seems safe.
Hyunjin claps his hands happily, tells them to settle Jisung in, to come to him if they need anything and though Jisung’s heart is hammering in his chest, he can’t help but smile when Felix helps him find some downy yellow sheets and a fluffy pillow in a stuffed cabinet down the hall.
He feels no trepidation when, later that night, he buries himself under the blankets in a soft sleep shirt Felix let him borrow. Though his worries gnaw at him, sit in the back of his head as he stares at the dark wood of the door, listens to Felix’s steady breathing above him.
“Felix?” he asks quietly, “should we … I mean, do you usually … it’s okay if you don’t … uh … do you not lock your door at night?”
He screws his eyes shut, braces himself, but Felix doesn’t laugh at him, just pops his head over the side of his bunk and looks down at Jisung with a soft smile. But there’s something in his eyes that Jisung can’t place.
“If it would make you feel safer, we can.”
Jisung thinks it would, but shakes his head nonetheless. He’s not going to make this weirder than it already is. He can deal. Probably.
“No, no, it’s okay, if you don’t usually lock it, then I guess there’s no need,” he mutters, trying to sound casual, but failing spectacularly, his voice a shaky mess.
But Felix still doesn’t laugh at him, only swings his legs over the side of his bunk and plops down. He pads to the door on his bare feet, turns the key, shoots Jisung a little smile and climbs back up to his bunk.
“You’re safe here, Jisung,” he says softly, into the darkness when he has wriggled back into his sheets. Jisung feels every word warm in his belly. “On this ship, we’re family. We look out for each other.”
It’s quiet for a few moments as Jisung’s face burns, his heart rabbits in his chest. Then, quietly, hoping that Felix hasn’t fallen asleep yet, he mumbles a weak “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Felix just yawns and blows out his candle. “Good night, Jisung.”
Jisung mutters a quiet, “good night, Felix”, and turns to his side.
Through the porthole he can see the moon, outside the door he can hear footsteps approach and then pass every now and again, doors open and close, merry laughter and yelling ringing distantly through the hallways all the way from the common room. He lets it all wash over him and tries to think through everything that has happened today, thinks he should try to process it, but he’s too tired, bone-tired in a way he has never felt before. He lets the sea rock him to sleep gently, and he sleeps, sleeps through the night for the first time in months.
The morning sun slants through the big stained-glass windows behind your desk like they only do in the spring, right after sunrise, their cold, yet rapidly warming rays playing tricks on your eyes, making shadows dance across the wood every time the ship rocks in the waves. You’re still towelling your hair dry when there’s a knock at the door to your office. You start. Chan and Changbin are not usually up this early.
“Yes?”
The door opens and Minho barges in, not even bothering to close it behind him or throw you more than a cursory glance before he starts talking.
“We should get aligned on what your plans are for the new guy, captain,” Minho states, voice as neutral as you’ve ever heard it, and your heart sinks. You lower your towel slowly.
“Align?”
You watch Minho falter painfully, blinking rapidly at the floor, before he folds his hands behind his back dutifully. You hate this posture. He feels so far away.
“O-of course, my apologies,” he clears his throat, trying to straighten his back like it’s difficult for him to do so, “it’s of course perfectly within your right to not want me involved. I apologise for overstepping. I will leave you to it.”
He turns to leave without looking at you, but you surge forwards without thinking, catching his wrist to stop him. You tug him back gently, until he’s in front of you, but he still refuses to meet your eyes, eyes locked onto the floor somewhere on his left, his face locked in a tense, unhappy scowl. You’re gentle with it when you finally place both your hands on his jaw and gently turn his head, force him to meet your stern gaze. He looks a little tired, and there’s a guardedness in his eyes that hurts you.
“Minho,” you whisper quietly, and you can feel his breath hitch, “I want you here. For this, for all of it.”
Your heart starts hammering in your chest when you realise what you said, the words resembling a little bit too closely a confession you’re not ready to make. Minho doesn’t answer, just watches you so intently you have to look away, your hands falling from his face until they’re resting on his waist.
“I’m sorry I treated you so harshly yesterday,” you mumble quietly, without looking up, talking to the dark, starched material of his vest. You wish you could nuzzle into the skin you know it hides and avoid having to say all of these words. “You have to understand how hard I have to work for the boys to respect me. And you barging in on me talking to a new recruit and calling into question not only my authority but also my abilities, I can’t … I couldn’t …”
You struggle to find the words and deflate slightly, but now it’s Minho who takes your face into his calloused but gentle hands and slightly tips it upwards until you’re forced to look at him. His presence, his closeness, washes over you like a warm, gentle breeze.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, sincerely, “I never meant to question you, I was just …”
He hesitates, his eyes slipping shut as he lets his head fall forward, resting his forehead against yours.
“You were what?” you breathe out, even though you know the answer. You know the answer, and it’s making your heart rattle against your ribcage.
“I was so fucking worried,” Minho whispers, his eyelids heavily fluttering open, “what if the guy had planned something? What if he had had a knife on him? What if he had overpowered you?”
His voice is getting progressively shakier, and you pull him closer, flush against you, instinctively. You’d rarely seen Minho this worked up, and you feel the overwhelming urge to calm him. You let your hands rub up and down his spine, and he barely perceptibly shivers.
“You know I can take care of myself.”
“I know, but I can’t take any chances,” he breathes back, leaning forward and brushing his lips gently over yours in a gesture so intimate you want to sob. “What if something happened to you? What then?”
Your eyes lock for a second, and it’s like everything you’re terrified of, every single ounce of love he holds for you is right there, staring back at you. The kraken awakens, rolling in its prison, its tentacles feeling their way around your chest until one of them finds your heart and squeezes. A deep, threatening groan rumbles from deep within its chest as it thrashes with a disgusting squelch. You try to take a deep breath to pacify the beast, but it comes out almost pained. You stare up at Minho, the pain in your chest worsening the longer you let yourself indulge in their deep, warm depths.
“B-because I-I’m your captain, right?” you whisper, barely audibly, and Minho pauses. He blinks down at you, then moves as if to step away, jerks almost from your grasp. Your arms tighten around him instantly, a choked sound ripping from your trembling lip as you pull him back, digging your fingers into his back. You know you’re clinging onto him, pathetically, tellingly, paradoxically, but … you’re terrified.
Terrified that if he steps away from you, if his warmth leaves you, the kraken will finally find enough strength to escape, to shatter your ribs one by one, to tear open your chest and leave you to bleed out on the floor as it crawls away to find a new, stronger victim.
Minho doesn’t fight the tightening of your arms. He lets you tug him closer, presses himself even closer still, brings his soft palms back to your face, his thumbs swiping over your cheeks gently. His face is a grimace of pain and love, and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly before he blinks them back open.
“Because you’re my captain,” he affirms, and you can tell he’s lying, but it’s okay because if he’s lying for you, it means he knows, he understands. The kraken cowers, softens its hold on your heart and when you lean forward and press your lips to Minho’s, and he returns it instantly, unhesitatingly, all thoughts of it slip from your mind like sand through your fingers. Because Minho understands, and Minho’s still kissing you.
You breathe a sigh of relief, Minho’s soft lips soothing over yours gently, slowly, until you press closer. He groans, sweetly, brokenly, when you run your tongue over his bottom lip and uses his grip on your face to angle your head to the side. You part your lips readily, submitting to Minho’s tongue when it dips into your mouth, tangles with yours. He isn’t demanding, but there’s something wild in the way one of his hands slips to the back of your neck, thumb digging into the side of your jaw as he tries to pull you even closer, a breathless gasp escaping into your mouth when you suck on his tongue slightly.
“Captain, I– …”
Chan’s voice brutally ruptures the moment and you and Minho flinch apart, clumsily, your bodies detangling, your hand coming up to wipe a remnant of spit from your lips. Chan’s mouth is open, and he blinks from you to Minho stupidly before he suddenly whirls around as if he had caught you in a state of undress. The tips of his ears are burning.
“I am so sorry, captain, the door was open and – I didn’t see anything, I promise. I’ll come back later.”
And with that, he takes off, his footsteps fast and heavy as he bolts downstairs.
< chapter I - chapter III >
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Oh no poor Chan😭 Another great chapter May! I loved the feels in this one! I made more notes but they're mainly just my train of thought as I was reading😅 I really really love this series and can't wait to catch up on it!!
"When you were born, you didn't cry."
We're starting off STRONG okay😭
"...You never wanted to let yourself forget that you were the reason your father was likely dead at the bottom of the sea."
B-but Y/n...that's not how it works- it's not your fault😭
"When you were eleven, your mother remarried...That day was the first time the kraken appeared."
Yo wtf? Burn that maid bro- and gut and stuff the step-dad. Please😊 Poor Davy😭💔 The gaslighting is fking exemplary holy shit. There's no way none of that was her fault😭
"The kraken lived in your chest...nearly making you wretch."
I sympathize a little to much with this entire paragraph. 'Cause me, my persona's and the jar of cracked feelings inside me feel attacked😭
"and you stabbed him 25 ttimes"
I personally would've cut off his d!ck and stuffed it in his mouth as well. Or is that to serial killer of me? 🤔
"Slowly, finally, you let yourself believe that his was a life you didn't claim."
That trauma is strong😭 this entire part is so sweet tho😔💔 it's sad for a split second I pictured JYP as the captain before mentally soccer punching myself😮💨
"...managed to get himself out of it"
Is Chan upset because Jisung unknowingly kinda caused whatever tf was happening with Y/n and Minho? I can imagine an angry Pirate Au Minho would be very...very scary🥲
"Under the scrutiny of 30 pairs of eyes,"
No because why am I nervous now
"My names Felix...and she agreed."
So it's safe to assume a few crew members are missing limbs? Well they're pirates what did I expect? 😅🥲
"It makes your little waist look to die for..."
Hyunjin gets it. He really gets it😞
"You into men?"
That entire exchange with Jeongin and Hyunjin made me laugh😂 Why's he so straightforward? Jisung's a nervous wreck you'll send him into overdrive Hyun😭
"He had only had a normal map in his quarters."
I smell a useful skill that will help Jisung earn Trust Points and he is in desperate need of those😭😭😭
"Your heart starts hammering in your chest when you realise what you said, the words resembling a little bit too closely a confession you’re not ready to make."
Dammit trauma!! Getting in the way of my Minho & Reader😭😭😭 It's for the plot Cubbs. Remember it's for the plot😤😞
"Because I'm your captain right?"
Wrong Y/n. So very wrong😭 God I'm so scared for these 2💔💔💔
"Because Minho understands, and Minho's still kissing you."
I can't fucking wait for these 2, or Reader to come to terms with themselves 😭 I love me some angst, but only when ik there's gonna be a happy ending. There was a time I went in blind and kept thinking "It's gonna get better, it's gonna get better"... It did not get better and I cried myself to sleep for 3 nights😭😭
summary: the captain and minho try to figure out just how far jisung is ready to go against his own uncle – and jisung finds himself a little bit too caught up on whatever is going on. and the captain and minho finally have some time to themselves
word count: 6.6k words
warnings: mentions of past sexual assault and attempted rape; an almost panic attack; smut! unprotected sex, pulling out as a form of protection (it doesn't work, don't do it)
author's note: there's smut to make up for this being slightly less exciting heheh and the next one will be dramaaaaaa. PLEASE tell me what you think of the series!! I may be a lil inactive these days but I love this series so much and nothing would mean more to me than some feedback ❤️🩹
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
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< chapter II - chapter IV >
When Jisung wakes up the next day, the sun is shining through the porthole from its lazy early morning position just above the horizon, throwing its rays over the worn floorboards of the cabin, dust dancing in calm swirls. Jisung blinks his eyes open and hesitates; there are no noises in the room, the top bunk completely quiet. It would make sense, Jisung thinks, Felix probably already in the kitchen preparing food. The rest of the ship is also quiet, only a few voices here and there, the thunk of something hitting the ground in the next cabin over, then a curse.
Jisung takes stock of himself, slowly wiggling his toes under the heavy duvet, nuzzling his nose into the pillow underneath him. His body is soft, pliant, rested, and it takes him a second to process this fact. Every night since he left port on the stupid ship his uncle had given him to commandeer, Jisung had slept in fits and starts, never more than a few hours at a time, with one eye open, his gun on his nightstand, a knife under his pillow. His mind starts drifting before he can stop it, conjuring painful memories of rough, dirty fingers wrapping around his wrists, of stinking breath hitting his face. He shakes his head and sits up in bed abruptly. He’s safe now. He slept in this room, with Felix, and nobody tried to break in. He no longer has to pretend to be the captain of a crew of unwilling, disgusting men.
He shifts and something topples off the bed. It’s a bundle of fabric. When he picks it up, he realises it’s clothes. A pair of dark pants made from a sturdy but soft cotton-like material, a soft, white, fluttering shirt with a deep, ruffled neckline, and a dark red waist-tie and belt. Jisung looks around, briefly wonders if Felix left these on his bed accidentally, but the rest of his clothes are carefully stowed away, so Jisung thinks it’s probably safe to assume he left them out for him.
He pulls them on, carefully, gingerly, making sure not to rip them, just in case – but it turns out they fit him perfectly. When he catches sight of himself in the narrow mirror behind the door, he pauses. He looks different, more serious, a bit rougher around the edges. It suits him more than he thought it would. He cards some fingers through his wavy hair, tugs the little silver cross back into place. He’s a pirate now, he thinks, tries on the thought and blinks at himself. To his surprise, he doesn’t hate it. It feels a hell of lot better than anything else he has previously been forced to be. Before he can overthink it, he leaves the cabin.
His steps are cautious, quiet, as he makes his way out of the densely populated cabin hallway, where noises still come through doors, past the baths where he hears raucous laughter and splashing, before he finally reaches the mostly empty living area. Though he isn’t scared of these new people he has found himself with, he’s not keen on meeting any of them alone, not keen to think about all the possible questions they could ask him, all the ways they could be less than friendly, regardless of what the captain had promised him. His faltering steps find the mess area, completely empty, save for the hushed voices coming from the kitchen. When Jisung steps closer, he thinks he identifies Felix, Hyunjin and Chan.
“And you heard nothing else?”
Hyunjin.
“No, just … I heard someone talk before I walked in, but I didn’t really … listen, you know.”
“Dammit, Chan.”
Felix’s deep voice now.
“What?! There’s so many people on this ship, how was I supposed to know?!”
“She’s the only woman, it couldn’t have been hard to notice that.”
Silence. Jisung assumes Chan shrugged. Oh, so this is about the captain. The captain and who?
“So you didn’t hear them talk and then just walked in on … that?” Hyunjin asks quietly, and Jisung hears Chan breathe out a quiet, “yup”.
“Well, good to know they’re not fighting any more,” Hyunjin sighs and Jisung blinks. Oh, the captain and Minho. The weird thing he witnessed yesterday.
“Do you think it’s because of him …” Chan almost whispers, and
Jisung can hear Hyunjin sigh. Jisung feels his lungs constrict, and he suddenly decides he’s heard enough, raising a hand and rapping it on the swinging doors loud enough it startles a yelp out of someone on the other side.
“Felix? Can I come in?” he calls, willing his voice to sound unaffected, and for once, his body listens to him. Maybe a good night’s sleep did him more good than he thought. The swinging door burst open and Felix blinks at him, a smile on his face that is only ever so slightly panicked.
“Jisung! Ah, you saw the clothes!” he exclaims and takes Jisung’s hands, appraising him with a twinkle in his eyes, “and they fit you perfectly, I’m so good at this!”
He sends Jisung a cheeky wink and turns back to Hyunjin and Chan. Chan still looks like he’s seen a ghost, but he gives Jisung a friendly smile.
“Morning! How was your first night? In a proper bed, I mean?”
Jisung stows away his questions for later and returns Chan’s smile valiantly.
“Slept like a rock, for the first time in ages. So, very good.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you this morning,” Felix announces, a small pout on his face, “I tried to be really quiet, and you were snoring so cutely …”
Jisung blushes, watches confusion settle over Chan’s face, though before he can say anything, Felix turns around.
“He’s my cabin-mate,” he explains with a smile, and Chan’s eyes widen imperceptibly. He opens his mouth, but Hyunjin cuts him off by stepping closer to Jisung and tugging approvingly at the waist-tie around his middle.
“God, I knew your waist was tiny but look at you!”
Jisung’s cheeks heat up immediately, eyes wide as he blinks at Hyunjin, who looks him up and down with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
“Right?! It’s why I picked this outfit for him,” Felix says smugly, and Hyunjin hums.
“I’ll have to make you more red stuff as well. It looks to die for with your skin tone.”
Felix agrees emphatically before he throws a look out the window and curses.
“Now, everyone out, I need to get started on breakfast or there will be a riot later.”
When Chan opens the door to the captain’s cabin for Jisung a few hours later, they’re both there. The captain, leaning against her desk, and Minho reclined on the worn old sofa next to her.
Minho gets up slowly when Jisung enters, and Jisung does his best to avoid his gaze.
“Hi Jisung,” the captain chirps and gives him a small smile that nonetheless is so genuine that Jisung can’t help but smile back, “how was your first proper night? The boys didn’t give you any trouble, I hope?”
Jisung’s eyes briefly flicker over to Minho, who regards him with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he looks back at the captain, whose eyes are dragging over his body lazily. Right, Felix’s clothes. It nonetheless makes heat creep up his neck.
“It’s … it’s been good,” Jisung stutters out, and he clears his throat forcefully, running his hands through his hair nervously. Stop sounding like a little bitch, Han. “Felix asked me to be his cabin-mate and I slept really, really well. It was very comfortable and …”
He wills himself to ignore Minho’s eyes boring into the side of his face. He won’t be bullied into submission, not even when his bully could probably kill him with his bare hands.
“… and safe,” he finally says, hoping the captain will, somehow, telepathically understand this backwards way of thanking her. She smiles wider, like she does, and Jisung thinks he might be blushing.
“Good. I asked Hyunjin to find you someone to room with who you’d feel comfortable with, or alternatively give you your own cabin to yourself,” she explains, matter-of-factly, as if his fragile little heart wasn’t skipping a beat at how much she seems to care for him, when he’s nothing more than a stranger. “But I’m glad you’re with Felix. He’s good company, and he’ll be able to show you the ropes.”
This time, Jisung’s thank you isn’t indirect. He whispers the words out, but the captain just waves him off.
Suddenly, Minho pushes away from the beam he had been leaning on this whole time and starts stalking towards him. His eyes are locked onto his, boring into him so intensely that fear shivers down Jisung’s spine, and he instinctively takes a few steps back as he approaches.
Minho, stops, blinks at him, a shadow passing over his handsome face. Then, without taking any more steps towards him, he just sticks out his hand, leaving it to hover there between them, Jisung’s wide, fearful eyes snapping from his hand to his face and back.
“I … I think we started off on the wrong foot,” Minho says, his voice rough but oddly gentle, “I … My name’s Minho. I’m the captain’s second in command. You … you can always come to me if you need anything. Though …” he chuckles sheepishly, “Hyunjin’s usually better at it than I am. So maybe just go to him”
Jisung watches, fascinated, as Minho’s face transforms when he smiles. His usual impassive, sculpted face opens up, eyes glimmering, perfectly straight nose scrunching up. His two front teeth poke out from underneath his plump top lip, and it’s so endearing, so unlike him, it shocks the breath Jisung has been holding right out of his lungs. Tentatively, he retraces his steps and comes close enough he can take Minho’s hand in his. It’s calloused and surprisingly warm, squeezing his gently but firmly. There’s a scar right underneath Minho’s left eye, and Jisung wonders how he got it.
But before he can say anything else, Minho nods, drops his hand and turns around, coming to stand to the side of the captain again, who gives Jisung another one of her calm, enigmatic smiles and walks to the door.
“Want to take a walk?”
Walking the deck with the captain is a different experience.
She opens the door and the wind bursts in, billowing through her long leather coat, whipping her hair behind her, sending a rush of rosemary and salt into Jisung’s nose, one he breathes in haltingly. He almost forgets Minho’s presence behind him when the captain waits and starts walking next to him, talking to him about the ship.
“She’s a frigate, probably around 10 years old now. I got her from my old captain, who handed her over to me. She’s fast, especially on the turns, though a bit too big for the crew we have right now. But I’d rather have our men have a little more work and be sure I can trust them, than fill our crew with strangers. And the boys seem to agree.”
Jisung just nods along, listening to her explain everything, from the ship’s history, to the amount of gun ports, the storage they have in the bow, the artist who worked on the stain glass windows in her quarters and carved all the details. She gives him a pretty conspiratorial smile when she talks about the cabins, and doesn’t hesitate to praise Hyunjin for all the work he does to make them so comfortable, going hunting for cheap mattresses and cushions at every port they land, spending nights in the common room sewing.
Every time they pass someone, they smile at her, giving her a small bow. Some approach her with questions or news, shooting Jisung a shy, curious gaze, some just stop to chat, preening under the attention she gives them. Somehow, she seems to know everything, able to talk to all of them about whatever they bring up, knowing them and their interests, their role on the ship – and with the way she treats them, explains more about what they do to Jisung when they have gone away, as if to give him some context on his future family, Jisung has no doubt that she had a deep appreciation for them, for every single one of them and their roles on the ship. She was made for this, Jisung thinks.
“Sorry,” she mumbles at some point, giving him a smile so shy it almost takes his breath away, so at odds with how she carries herself but somehow for that reason all the more disarming.
“I wanted to talk to you and I keep getting distracted.”
Jisung shakes his head vigorously, his cheeks burning the longer her penetrating look threatens to see right through him. He opens his mouth, but he is interrupted by Jeongin’s voice from somewhere above him.
“Captain!”
As he’s flying down the sails, the captain gives him a pained grimace.
“Sorry, after this one, I promise. This is usually important.”
Jeongin lands in front of them with a dull thud, before bowing briefly and sending Jisung a smile, before he grows more serious when he turns all of his attention to the captain and Minho, who suddenly steps out from behind Jisung and nearly gives him a heart attack.
“There was a government ship about 3 miles northwest earlier today,” Jeongin announces, “but it seems like they didn’t see us. Or if they did, they pretended like they didn’t.”
“Which way did it go?” Minho asks, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“It was heading west …”
Minho hums.
“Back to Andros, that’s weird.”
“Jisung,” the captain asks and Jisung whips around, blinking up at her, and he thinks he can see her falter for a second, before she continues. “Does your uncle have more than one ship active in these parts?”
Jisung narrows his eyes and thinks.
“Not … not that I know of. He always said this way around the islands was a dangerous and not very lucrative route. He only sent me on it to deliver something, something he said he couldn’t send any other way.”
The way three sets of eyes suddenly bore into him makes Jisung flush an unhelpful pink. He anticipates their question before they can ask.
“No, I don’t know what it was,” he exclaims nervously.
“How?!” Minho asks incredulously, the beginnings of a scowl pulling at his stupidly perfect eyebrows.
“I didn’t ask!”
“Why on earth would you not ask?!” Minho almost yells and Jisung vaguely registers the captain placing a calming hand on Minho’s arm, but he’s too busy swallowing his rage, trying not to let this asshole bully get to him. What the fuck does he know?!
“Because he wouldn’t have answered, anyways,” Jisung spits, before he can think better of it. His eyes narrowed at Minho. “He just sent me on these errands, one more foolish and deadly than the other. For all I know, he was trying to get me killed, the last remnant of my father’s direct bloodline eaten by krill on the bottom of the ocean.”
“You gotta be smarter about these kinds of things,” Minho hisses out, seemingly entirely indifferent to Jisung’s words. His uncle’s voice somewhere in the back of his mind calling him an idiot pansy, and the next words tumble out of his mouth in a venomous yell before he can stop them.
“Well, I’m sorry, I was pretty busy trying to figure out how I was going to not get fucking raped and murdered on that fucking ship every single night.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Jisung’s chest is heaving, his face burning with anger and so, so much shame. Damn him and his stupid big mouth. Why not tell them every single piece of his life story, hand them the knife to stab him with on a silver platter. Fuck. His chest constricts further, and he’s just about to turn and walk off, when the captain’s soft hand slides into his, and she pulls him down the deck, away from Jeongin and Minho and other prying eyes, until they’re mostly hidden behind some big crates.
Her hand slips from his, and he wishes he could hold on, but then both of them find his shoulders, squeezing them so hard it grounds him a little.
“Breathe,” she whispers. Jisung’s eyes are glued to his boots, ears ringing, lungs feeling like they’re made of lead, tears pricking at his eyes. Fuck, tears now, too? God, he's so fucking pathetic. Her fingertips find his chin and slowly tip his face up to meet hers. She’s right there, right in front of him, the wind whipping two strands of hair across her face that he wants to brush behind her ear.
“Jisung, breathe,” she says again and this time, Jisung does his best to listen. He takes a shuddering, shallow breath in, then another, and by the third breath they feel like they’re finally reaching his lungs again. He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing entirely, and the motion unleashes one of the tears from his eyes that he tried so hard to control. It rolls down his cheek slowly, but it doesn’t get far before a soft thumb brushes it away, and his breath hitches in his throat. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
He takes one more deep breath, and then he flutters his eyes open, blinking at her kind, kind face, before he gently takes her wrists and removes her hands from his shoulders. The captain looks at him with wide eyes and for the first time since he met her, she looks uncertain.
Jisung gently places her hands by her sides and wipes at his eyes.
“Sorry,” he rasps out, voice a barren whisper, “I’m okay. I’m used to it. You shouldn’t have to. This isn’t your job.”
His eyes meet hers, and she breathes out a relieved laugh. Her shoulders shake, her body leaning closer to his, the softness of her skin so close he can almost feel it.
“Oh, but it is,” she smiles.
Jisung blinks stupidly, but before he can ask what she means, Minho rounds the corner.
“You okay?” he asks carefully, looking Jisung up and down, eyes catching on his red-rimmed eyes. He looks vaguely apologetic, and Jisung figures that’s as much of an apology as he’ll get.
“Better now,” Jisung manages to breathe out, giving the captain another shy smile, one that Minho watches carefully. He feels lighter now, breath flowing through his body again, his soul no longer so untethered somehow. So he turns the same smile to Minho, who stares at him for a good few seconds without moving, before he turns around abruptly and motions for them to follow him.
“Now, come on, let’s discuss just how painfully I get to kill your uncle if I ever get my hands on him,” he mumbles out gruffly, and he looks like he means it, too, and the notion that someone would actually be on his side, willing to defend him, makes Jisung flustered.
But he swallows it down, as he obediently follows Minho back to the quarterdeck, sits down on a big wooden crate when Minho motions to it – only jumps a little when the captain sits down next to him instead of remaining standing with Minho, her knee resting against his leg casually.
Jisung follows the captain’s eyes as she watches Minho pace and scowl, cross his ridiculously thick arms over his chest until the muscles are bulging. Then Minho comes to a halt in front of Jisung and Jisung no longer questions anything.
“We want your uncle dead,” Minho states, coldly, seriously, entirely devoid of any kind of hesitation.
Jisung blinks up at him, gulps.
“There’s no point in mincing my words,” Minho continues, his eyes steadily on Jisung, watching every one of his reactions. “And I know you said you want revenge, but he’s also technically your family. But if you want anything less than his death, there’s no point in sticking around. We will kill him, with or without you. With or against you.”
Minho keeps his cold, dark eyes on him for another second before he finally looks away, giving Jisung a moment to breathe. God, he’s scary.
He throws a look at the captain, who just watches him, her intelligent eyes flickering over his face. It feels like they both see right through him and it makes him uneasy.
The answer to his implied question is easy. He’s wanted his uncle dead for years, before this, even before he started sending him on his deadly missions. But he can’t help wondering what would happen if he didn’t. Would they kick him out right now? Would they let him say goodbye? That thought is foolish, Jisung only just met them. Would they just put him into a dinghy and send him sailing? Or throw him back into his cell? After everything? After earlier?
Jisung hates how much he hopes the captain would say no, would try to make him stay. But the way she’s looking at him, face schooled into a careful mask, her eyes flitting over his face like she’s trying to anticipate his answer, figure him out. She looks like she doesn’t care, but Jisung finds it so hard to believe, after everything he saw today. Maybe it’s foolish, but he feels like he knows her. The soft pressure of her knee against his leg sends him spiralling.
“I want him dead,” he croaks out, his gaze glued to the captain’s, who visibly relaxes at his words. “I’ve wanted him dead for as long as I remember.”
The captain nods. Jisung thinks her knee presses closer against him and he’s suddenly hyper aware of Minho’s eyes on them.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she says, her voice calm and neutral, but something warmer laced into her eyes. It’s exactly what Jisung was hoping for and he laps it up like he’s starved. He forces himself to look away, forces himself to face Minho, who’s glaring at him already.
“And as much as I appreciate the chivalry,” he adds, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, “I want to be the one to kill him.”
Minho falters, eyes him almost like he doubts him and it makes Jisung bristle with annoyance. Minho snarls, opens his mouth, but the captain interrupts him and Minho’s lips pull into a thin line.
“If the opportunity presents itself, you can have your revenge,” she states calmly, but sternly, forcing Jisung’s eyes back to her like she’s pulling at an invisible string. “But if we get to him first, there’s no amount of personal loyalty that will stop us from sinking our knives into him. Because the crew at large always comes before the individual. You understand?”
Jisung nods, his face suddenly hot at the realisation of just what he just asked. Everyone on this ship has their own battle to fight with his uncle, and yet, the captain is offering him this.
She nods, almost more to herself than anyone else, and gets up. She stops, looks down at Jisung in a way that makes the loss of her touch against his leg a secondary matter to the way his head is spinning.
“Well, congratulations, Han Jisung,” she says, a cold kind of smile on her face, “you’re officially one of us now.”
He smiles, though it feels like a grimace.
“If you don’t have any other questions …?”
Jisung shakes his head so quickly his hair falls into his eyes and he has to brush it away. The captain follows the movement with her eyes.
“If you ever need me, you know where to find me.”
Jisung nods and she smiles, eyes flitting over his face again with something akin to puzzlement before she finally turns and leaves. Minho hesitates, though when Jisung looks at him he glares, and Jisung can’t help the matching glower that pulls on his features.
“What?!” Jisung spits and Minho’s scowl deepens.
“Welcome,” he growls and stalks off, following the captain.
Asshole.
Jisung’s welcome at dinner that night is significantly warmer that night, and he’s confused for only a split second before he realises, with a pang of humiliation, that Jeongin probably immediately ran to tell Hyunjin all about his breakdown, who then probably ran his big mouth until every single person on the ship knew.
The captain and Minho join them for dinner. When she walks in, closely followed by Minho, as Jisung has already learned to expect, there’s a chorus of cheers and happy hellos and Felix jumps up with a happy clap of his hands to run to the kitchen to get food for them.
Felix sits them at their end of the table, an honour he is not willing to give up as the chef of the ship. He plops down on the side that is not occupied by Minho and blushes profusely when she takes a bite of tonight’s stew and squeezes his hand in appreciation, humming about how good it tastes.
Dinner is a continuation of the day, her intelligent eyes fully trained on whoever decides to claim Felix’s soon empty spot for a few minutes, talking to Seungmin about a new map he’s working on, to Hyunjin about laundry, a pirate Jisung hadn’t talked to yet about the next ship get-together – even Jeongin for a second, who straddles the bench she’s sitting on, smiling at her and leaning closer with every word she says, before he grabs his flask of rum and presumably returns to his lookout for the night. With some of them, she has serious conversations, a tiny furrow between her eyebrows as she listens, nodding along. With others, she’s all gentle smiles and even the odd peal of laughter. Those are mostly courtesy of Felix, Hyunjin and Jeongin.
Jisung doesn’t find the courage to get up and go over to talk to her, too self conscious about everything that happened, about everyone’s eyes still glued to him at all times. He satisfies himself with the few smiles the captain throws his way when their eyes meet, and spends the rest of his time observing her – and the man who's her constant shadow. Minho.
Because while the seat to the right of the captain is filled with a rotating cast of characters, passing through, asking for her ear, for her help, her advice; in the seat to the left of her, quietly, stoically, sometimes chatting to Hyunjin or Seungmin, Minho remains. Jisung watches him carefully, not letting his eyes linger for too long, but it’s enough for him to come to the conclusion that 1. Minho is exactly as dangerous as he looks, 2. also a lot softer than he seems and 3. completely and utterly devoted to the captain. A part of Minho’s attention, even while eating, while peeling an apple with his pocket knife, while teasing someone down the table with a wicked smile on his lips – A part of his attention is always on her, keyed into her every mood, turning to her before she can even say his name to ask him for his input. But what Jisung sees, most of all, is how Minho’s eyes are softer when he looks at her. How his voice is gentler, how he leans into her direction like gravity works different around them. How there’s a small, private smile playing around his lips when the captain lets out a pretty laugh.
Jisung also sees how, when she excuses herself for the night, just before the evening gets rowdier, he slips out after her.
“Felix?” Jisung breathes into the silence, later that night, when the moon is already high in the sky and the rum in his blood is making the swaying of the boat feel a lot more precarious.
Felix above him hums sleepily. Jisung swallows.
“This might be a stupid question,” he prefaces nervously. Felix just hums again.
“Are the captain and Minho … you know … together?”
There’s silence in the top bunk for a solid second, and Jisung wonders if he said something really wrong.
“We’re not really meant to talk about it,” Felix finally replies, picking his words carefully, “but they’re … something, we think. But I don’t think they’re together, you know, officially.”
Jisung lets the information sink in. They’re something. But I don’t think they’re together. Felix speaks up again before Jisung can formulate a response.
“But seriously, don’t bring it up, if you don’t want Minho’s fist in your face. The captain doesn’t appreciate speculation about her love life.”
Now it’s Jisung’s turn to hum understandingly. He gets it. She’s the only woman on the ship – and he knows what it feels like to be sexualised against your will and not respected because of it.
“I won’t say anything,” he mumbles, and Felix lets out a breath.
“Thanks for telling me, Felix.”
“It’s all good, Jisungie, you’re one of us now.”
Jisung hides the smile on his face under the edge of his fluffy blue duvet.
“Good night,” he breathes out, and Felix chuckles.
“Good night.”
You can hear Minho’s footsteps behind you as you leave the rowdy atmosphere of the mess behind you, recognise the cadence of them like they’re your own. So when you reach the thick wooden door that leads to your quarters and two warm hands find your hips, a soft puff of breath on your neck, you shudder out a breath, your hands trembling on the doorknob. Minho’s lips ghosting over your neck are a terrible distraction, but with one last effort, you shove the door open and then your world spins when Minho turns you around and crashes his lips into yours, walking you backwards into the room before throwing the door closed and pressing you up against it.
His hot lips slide against into your mouth as his hands drag down your body, pinning you to the wood with a strength that takes you by surprise, no matter how many times you find yourself preening under it.
He’s already hard in his pants, pressing against your abdomen as he kisses you bruisingly, lips parting to let his tongue slide into your mouth, and you moan into each other’s mouths.
“Been wanting you all day,” Minho mumbles against your lips as he shoves your heavy leather coat off your shoulders, leaving it to pile on the floor in a meaningless heap. His hot palms find your neck, pulling you in deeper.
“You had me this morning,” you breathe with a chuckle. Your fingers are already busy freeing his shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants, and you sigh when your palms finally slide over the soft skin of his abdomen, over the soft swell of his abs, contracting under your touch.
Minho scoffs, pulling back from you enough so you can pull his shirt over his head, the beads threaded into his hair clinking together with the motion. He tugs yours off with feverish hands and pulls your naked chest against his, arching his back to feel as much of you as possible.
“Too long, if you ask me,” he mumbles, reverent hands following the dip of your spine until he can slip his hand underneath the waistband of your pants. “Wish I could keep you all to myself.”
His hand slides over your ass, and then he grips the flesh, nails digging into your skin, pulling you harder against his hard cock tenting his pants.
“Then who would captain this ship? Or make sure you don’t kill the new guy?” you whisper distractedly as you try to pop the button on his pants, clawing at the ties until they’re open enough for you to slip a hand into it and cup his cock through his underwear. Minho groans against your lips, pulling you away from the wall, expertly walking you backwards through your office and into your bedroom until the backs of your knees hit the bed. He guides you onto your back gently before straightening back up and aggressively shoving his pants and underwear down.
“Don’t talk about the new guy when I’m about to fuck you,” he spits out, and then he’s climbing over you, caging you against the mattress and slotting his lips against yours, again, hot tongue pressing into your mouth. He hikes one of your legs over his arms as he kisses you, the tip of his cock prodding slightly against your wetness, and you lose any last shred of sanity.
“Fuck, Min, just …” you trail off when his teeth sink into the side of your neck, your hands scrambling for purchase on his waist.
“What, my captain?” Minho purrs out, his lips soothing over the teeth marks, and your moan turns into a breathless chuckle.
“Just … fuck me.”
And Minho groans, one hand snaking between your bodies to take hold of his cock, pressing it against your entrance insistently. A whimper falls from your lips when the head of his cock breaches you.
You’d figured out very early on that while you both loved long nights of taking each other apart, you also loved this – you taking him unprepared, bodies pressed together, the deep, satisfying stretch of his thick cock as he fucked you open torturously slowly.
Minho dips back down, kisses you deeply, desperately as he cants his hips and presses in, a guttural groan tearing from his throat when another inch of him sinks into your tight, wet heat. He pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in, only halfway, but the stretch and the tight glide of it drives you nearly insane. Minho laces his fingers with yours and pulls your hand up and over your head.
“S-so big,” you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head and Minho’s lips brush yours, a gentle shhh as his eyes slip shut.
“Can’t believe you can take me like this,” he pants against your lips, his resolve faltering, starting to rut into you harder, deeper and deeper. The feeling of it is all-consuming, and you already feel like you’re unraveling at the seams. Right here, nothing matters but you and Minho, skin to skin, his fingers laced with yours, his soft tongue in your mouth.
When he finally bottoms out, the tops of his soft thighs pressing against your ass, a broken gasp leaves his pretty lips and his eyes flutter open, gazes meeting, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Shaggy black hair mussed, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, the muscles in his arms flexing as he stays buried inside of you, grinding into you just slightly, the tip of his cock rubbing against something inside you that has you seeing stars.
He dips down to kiss you again, but it’s quick and fleeting, and then he leans back, hikes your legs up and over his shoulder, pulling out almost all the way and sliding back in in one smooth motion that takes your breath away. Then he does it again and again, fucking you in strokes so slow and deep your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, your body melting into the sheets underneath him.\
He doesn’t speak, little gasps falling from his parted lips, his eyes trained on where he’s sliding in and out of your body until you’re begging for more, begging for him, pawing at him until the last of his resolve crumbles, and he allows himself to lean forward, fold his hot, sweaty chest against yours, lips colliding.
It’s a practiced dance, lips sliding over each other, tongues tangling as his hips snap into yours harder and faster, sweat beading on your bodies as the whole room is filled with the wet slide of skin against skin, the breathless gasps and moans spilling from both of your lips. There are no words, not when he’s fucking you like this, filling you so perfectly all you can see is him, the world outside slowly slipping away until it no longer matters.
Your orgasm sneaks up on you so slowly, so gradually, that you barely notice it until the string in your abdomen pulls impossibly tight, your back arching, trying to pull Minho closer. Your clit grinds against his abdomen just right, and suddenly, you shake apart, falling over the edge with a high moan, distantly aware of Minho’s whimper in your ear as he fucks you through it. Before you can even feel the oversensitivity, he pulls out, stroking himself once, twice, and then his head falls back, and he’s cumming, painting your belly and your folds with strings of his hot release.
There’s silence, except for his panting, and your brain is foggy, tired, sated, and you feel yourself drifting off. The first few times you slept with him, you’d tried to fight this feeling, tried to fight the need to let your eyes drift close, tried to sit up and help him clean you up, but he had quickly made it very clear that he didn’t want you to. Instead, he did what he does now, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, one you only distantly register, before he disappears into the adjoining room and lights the logs under the water heater to draw you a bath. You drift off, and you think it’s only for a second, but suddenly Minho’s back, his gentle hands smoothing over your sticky skin, whispering your name before he lifts you up and carries you to the big wooden tub, lowering you into the hot water. He settles behind you.
You blink your eyes open and find him already looking at you. Nobody else gets to see you like this, you think, in awe. Nobody_could_ see you like this, and still look at you the same way Minho does.
“Thank you,” you breathe out, and he smiles his pretty smile, and chuckles, his chest rumbling behind you. You want to curl against it to sleep forever, but the kraken in your lungs peaks an eye open, runs a warning shudder through you, as if to remind you that this relief can only ever be temporary.
“For what? Fucking your brains out or drawing you a bath afterwards?” Minho asks teasingly, “I feel like I could also thank you for the first part, and it’s only fair to do the latter when I cum all over you.”
You giggle as well, letting your head fall against the soft skin of his shoulder. His fingertips trail over your waist, his skin warm against your lips, his heartbeat in your ears, regular, solid, safe. The kraken inside of you cries out lowly, heaves its heavy body against your ribcage, but something inside of you aches, needs it out.
“For everything.”
You feel Minho tense underneath you, the tips of his fingers no longer tracing delicate patterns onto the skin of your waist. His next breath comes out haltingly, questioningly, and his arms move slowly as they wrap around you, pulling you further into the safety of his chest. His lips are insistent when they press a kiss into your damp hair, then to your forehead.
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t have to. Just holds you until it’s time to get out of the bath, towels your hair dry and slips into bed with you. You fall asleep with his heartbeat under your fingertips and wake up alone.
< chapter II - chapter IV >
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Firstly, my poor Jisungie😔💔 idrc who kills his uncle, as long as at least Minho, Reader and Jisung himself are present for his death because I need the gratification of knowing that man suffers.
The way you describe the scenes, especially the one in the mess hall. I could picture it so vividly and it was such a sight! I honestly wish my art skills were 1000x better so I could draw Y/n how I picture her😭😭😭 when I tell you this woman is SO FOINE😫🔥 WHEN I TELL YOU SHE IS SCRUMP-DILI-ISIOUS‼️‼️
*ahem* anyways- I love the way Jisung is slowly integrating and I love his slowly blossoming friendship with Lixie and the main guys💛 makes my heart all happy and shii🤭
As for the smut??? 😩❤️🔥 the fucking PASSION??? The nonverbal LOVE??? That kraken is one jealous mfker ngl. Let the woman enjoy being dicked down with love in peace dammit😒
I can tell (or get the feeling) deep down our stoic Minho does want more. He wants to be able to...how do I put it? Love Y/n in a much more vulnerable? way? But he also understands that, that not possible right now and he's doing his best and I love that. I got all the beef with that kraken. He's gonna catch these hands istg✋🏼 but anyways
LOVED IT LOVED IT LOVED IT!!! CANNOT wait to read the next chapter!!!
summary: things between minho and jisung are slowly starting to come to a head as minho makes a bad call. a really bad call.
word count: 6.9k
warnings: violence and swearing!! fighting with fists and guns and big old knives; death (of bad guys only!); jisung is faced with his abuser, so warning for mentions of sexual assault (nothing too graphic, only one little flashback)
author's note: this was one of my favourite chapters and one of the hardest things I've ever written. as someone who comes from just smut and one-shots, building such an intricate action scene was sooo fucking hard. so please go easy on me, we all start somewhere. anyways, do we think things between minho and jisung will finally reach a boiling point soon?
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
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< chapter III - chapter V >
It’s two weeks later and Jisung is elbow deep in lavender scented laundry suds, giggling about a story Hyunjin is telling him about a time when Seungmin got drunk and tried to climb up to the top, singing a love song at the top of his lungs, trying to get to Jeongin, who was panicking and trying to get down before Seungmin could hurt himself, when he hears it. The distant, but not-distant-enough sound of a cannon. Hyunjin’s smile falls, his head shoots up, and they look at each for a moment. Then another cannon shot rips through the silence, and they shoot to their feet.
By the time they reach the main deck, there’s already mayhem – Jeongin flies down the sails, Seungmin yells something from the quarterdeck, whips the wheel around so fast it sends Hyunjin and Jisung stumbling into each other. Jisung gets shoved to the side as the captain barges out of her quarters, snatches the binoculars out of Jeongin’s hands and flies to the forecastle, Jeongin and Minho on her heels.
“She’s small, no more than 20 on board. Looks like a government ship. We can try outrunning her, but she’s fast and heading straight for us,” Jeongin rattles off.
The words government ship ring through Jisung’s brain louder than any cannon.
Minho turns around and stares straight at him as if he heard it, too.
“They’re aiming for our gun,” the captain mumbles, eyes trained on the ship on the horizon. Her shoulders are pulled taut and her eyes are cold, colder even when she turns around and announces. “We’ll fight them. Everyone, positions. Take no prisoners, it’s time to send a message.”
And as if they were just waiting for those words, the mad scramble on deck gets madder. Hyunjin disappears from his side and Jisung just stands there, blind and dumb, before he gets jostled to the side again, this time by Chan who tells him to stand by, as him, Changbin and two other pirates start lugging up cannonballs from the hold of the ship and load them into the cannons.
Before he can panic any more, Hyunjin is back, his hands full of weapons.
“Okay, I don’t know your preference, but I brought you a number of things. You look like you’d be a good shot, but just in case, I’ve also brought a cutlass …”
Jisung is just about to reach out, to comment that he can hold his own with any of the weapons Hyunjin is holding out to him, when he’s so suddenly and so violently yanked back that he chokes out a yelp. The first cannon shot from their ship rips through the air as Jisung’s hands scrabble at his collar, trying to pull it a little looser, fighting for his breath, but whoever’s dragging him is too strong, pulling him backwards so fast all he can do is try to stay upright. When he finally manages to twist around, he is met with Lee Minho’s side profile, and his confusion evaporates into scalding anger.
Fucking Minho. Lee Minho, the one person on this ship that has steadfastly refused any and all of Jisung’s attempts to become closer. And it’s not like Jisung needs to be friends with everyone on the ship, it’s just that Minho seems to be; despite his abrasive personality, Minho seems to be getting along with absolutely everyone. And what’s worse is that Minho didn’t just reject his advances, no, Minho left him to flounder, blinking at him emptily or just walking away. It was humiliating, and Jisung hates feeling humiliated.
“Hey, what the fuck!” he yells, choking when Minho drags at his collar even harder.
“Clearly your uncle has sent someone to fetch you,” Minho spits out, and Jisung is just about to scoff and tell him that’s very unlikely, when Minho hauls him upright and slams him against the main mast so hard, Jisung’s skull knocks against the wood.
“Fucking OW, you asshole!” Jisung spits, the world spinning in front of his eyes just long enough for Minho to reach behind him, and before he knows it, there’s a rope tightly wrapped around Jisung’s upper body, his arms trapped by his sides. Panic surges through his veins, and he struggles, struggles with all his might, but try as he might, he can’t stop Minho, who winds the rope around him and the mast once, twice, then again and again, before he pulls a tight knot and steps back, grinning a joyless, self-satisfied grin that makes Jisung’s blood boil.
“What the fuck?!” he hisses breathlessly, and Minho’s eyes narrow.
“Who’s to say you didn’t plan this, hm?” Minho growls, scarily calm, and Jisung’s heart drops. “Who says you didn’t plan for us to capture you, to worm your way into our crew, to learn all about us –“
“What?! No!” Jisung stutters out, desperately. He meets Hyunjin’s eyes over Minho’s shoulder and … his friend, who he was gossiping with just ten minutes ago, is now staring at him, eyes wide, doubt shadowing his entire face. A cannon ball hits the water just short of the ship, but it rings hollow.
“I’m not letting you run back to them and sell us out,” Minho yells, his voice so cold it makes Jisung’s skin crawl, his chest constrict with senseless despair. Some men stop, watch, just look on as he is berated for something he has never even thought of doing. So much for the people on this ship being ‘family’. He blinks away the angry tears rising to his eyes, chases the thought and all the pain it brings away, and focuses instead on the boiling pit of rage deep in his belly. He stokes it, feeds it, until there’s bile in his throat.
“What part of ‘my uncle wants me dead’ did you not understand?!” he yells, his voice a colour of rancour and bitterness that he’s never heard from himself before. It makes Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow in worry, and Jisung tries not to cling onto it.“Could’ve just been a part
of your scheme,” Minho just shrugs, turns, walks away and Jisung nearly screams in frustration. He can feel all their eyes on him, humiliation boiling in his guts.
“I told you I’m not a good liar,” he yells after Minho, catching Hyunjin’s curious gaze and then, finally, turning to the captain, who’s standing on the forecastle, her pretty face a stony, unreadable mask. Chan fires the cannon again, but she doesn’t even flinch. There’s a distant sound of wood splintering.
“Captain, please,” Jisung pleads. God, he sounds pathetic. “Do you think I’ve been lying to you?”
But the captain gives nothing away, watches Jisung’s heart bleed out on the deck of the ship, and just blinks. And when another cannon shot rings over the water, she briefly turns around in the direction of the coming ship, before she gives Jisung a pained smile.
“I’m sorry, Jisung,” she says calmly, and Jisung thinks he can hear a tinge of regret, of uncertainty in her voice. He wishes it wasn’t there.
“But keeping my crew safe is the most important thing. We can’t take any chances. And we’ll keep you safe.”
And then she gestures for everyone to keep preparing and that’s it; Hyunjin gives Jisung one more sad, puzzled look and then follows the motion that breaks out everywhere, hurrying back downstairs to grab more weapons. Chan and Changbin are firing faster now, more frequently, and Hyunjin soon returns with weapons and hands them out. Jeongin is hanging in the sails, his eyes trained on the coming ship, yelling instructions about their approach to Seungmin at the helm, about the number and armaments of their crew to the captain on the forecastle. Jisung is apart from all this, can feel the rope cut into the skin of his hip where his shirt has rucked up, feel his heart thumping in his chest.
As Jisung watches Chan and Changbin load, fire and reload the cannons, he suddenly realises with a shudder that his position against the mast is facing the incoming ship head-on. It’s the side they will board from, the side they will be shooting at – and suddenly, he wonders if Minho is trying to get him killed.
The captain had said they’d keep him safe. She had promised … but maybe Jisung was being naïve again, and it didn’t matter what a pirate promised. His uncle had always said so, said to never trust them because they only worked for their own gain, their own riches. The captain had seemed different, but maybe it was all Jisung’s wishful thinking, his stupidly desperate need for a way out. And then again, he had never trusted Minho. He’d wanted to, had tried so damn hard, only for Minho to shove it back in his face, humiliate him for even trying. Maybe Jisung should’ve taken the hint.When the
cause of all Jisung’s rage suddenly walks past him, Jisung strains against his ties and yells his name. Minho barely stops enough to look at him.
“I’m going to get killed,” Jisung hisses, motioning to the approaching ship with his chin, “I’m going to be right here when they arrive, and I’m going to get fucking killed. You’re going to get me killed.”
Minho stops at that, and walks closer, his eyes as menacing as ever, but Jisung has had enough. He decides right then and there that he will never cower before Lee Minho ever again.
Minho stops so close in front of him, that Jisung has to strain his neck to look up at him. He knows Minho’s doing it on purpose, and the scowl on Jisung’s face deepens, his lips pulling back into a snarl.
Then Minho leans closer, one hand supporting himself on the mast of the ship as he dips down into Jisung’s space so nonchalantly it makes Jisung want to punch him. His body feels like it’s burning up when Minho’s breath fans over his face.
“I won’t let that happen, princess,” Minho purrs with a mean snarl, and the nickname makes something in Jisung’s ribcage crack open. His rage returns with full force, burning deep in his guts in a way he has never felt before.
“I’ll fucking show you ‘princess’, asshole,” he spits and Minho just sizes him up for a second, an infuriating smirk on his face, before he pushes himself away from the mast and Jisung and walks away without another word.
And all Jisung can do is watch, watch him go to the captain who stares at the oncoming ship, eyes flicking to Minho restlessly as he places a calming hand on her shoulder; watch as Chan and Changbin throw him wayward glances every time they pass him to load the cannon, watch everyone on the ship run around, watch Hyunjin handing out weapons to everyone but him because he has been forced to watch and potentially die by the hands of the men he hates the most. Jisung feels thin, sour bile rise in his throat as he watches the enemy ship come closer and closer until it’s finally within boarding distance.
And when it is, the first thing Jisung sees is the face of the man he hoped he would never have to see again. His stomach churns and it’s like the whole world fades for a second, the unbidden memory of the crash of the locks on his door giving way, of the pig’s ugly grimace in the light of the oil lamp next to Jisung’s bed, Jisung’s own panicked breaths ringing through his ears, of thick, dirty fingers wrapped around Jisung’s wrists and then shoved down his pants before Jisung could finally grab hold of the knife underneath his pillow and bury it in the man’s thigh, the rage in his voice when he promised he’d be back ….
The plank hits the wood of the ship and the men, none except the one Jisung knows from ‘his’ ill-fated crew, but all clearly his uncle’s cronies, are ruthless and unhesitating in their assault. One charges at Chan, who can barely get his knife out of its holster before the man’s fist comes flying at his head. Another one heads for the captain, raises his gun to aim at her head, but is interrupted by Minho, cold-blooded murder in his eyes as he rams his knife into the man’s guts and walks him back and overboard.
There’s movement in the corner of Jisung’s eye, and he tries to whip around, but the ropes are cutting just high enough that he can’t, and then he feels a fist collide with his nose. Thankfully, there isn’t a crunch but searing pain and the taste of blood explode on his tongue and he reels back. He tries to blink the world back into focus because his opponent is getting closer and closer and his ears are ringing and his vision swims, but by a lucky break, he manages to land a solid kick to the guy’s groin. The man falters, doubles over, before raising his knife with a grimace of rage and approaching Jisung again, but he gets intercepted by a blur of raven hair.
“Oh no, you don’t” Minho’s voice crackles through the air and then there’s a sickening crunch as Minho’s breaks the man’s arm. Hyunjin is right behind him, whizzing past him and dealing with Jisung’s attacker as Minho approaches Jisung, the eyes that were so full of boiling resentment earlier scanning all over him now with a cold kind of care. Even his demeanour is softer when he approaches and wipes the blood trickling from Jisung’s nose away with his thumb. The touch makes rage and electricity spark all over Jisung’s skin and Jisung jerks away, though he doesn’t know whether it’s the stab of pain or the Minho’s touch he tries to get away from. Minho pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned, blinking at Jisung and throwing a glance towards where the captain is fighting, before he takes a step back.
“Told you I would watch out for you,” he simply says and turns around, bounding away and up the forecastle to cuts off another man approaching his captain. Jisung watches him, how methodically he attacks the man, how he takes him down efficiently and quickly, his eyes on his attackers’ hands and always, always on the captain, and he briefly wonders what it would be like to be defended so fiercely.
When he lets his eyes wander, he suddenly makes eye contact with him.
The pig is already staring at Jisung, leering at him when he sees Jisung and a senseless, primal panic shoots through his body, makes his hands claw at the wood of the mast, the rope, anything, trying to escape, but Minho truly outdid himself. The man sneers out a vicious, bilious “hello, princess” and Jisung has to bite back a panicked whimper. The nickname. The voice. Weak, Jisung, his uncle, bellows in his head. Yes, he is, Jisung accepts. He is weak.
“I can’t believe they’ve got you tied up here, for me for the taking,” the man chuckles darkly as he approaches, “not like your uncle wants you back. But I will have my fun with you before I kill you.”
Jisung desperately strains against the rope again, ignores the burn of it breaking the skin on his waist, but he still can’t get out. Fucking Minho. The man comes closer until Jisung can see the dark rot in his teeth, the fetid pink of his cheeks, and his stomach churns.
“I should’ve thought of tying you up first,” the pig goads and a few drops of his drool hit Jisung’s cheek, and it shocks a violent gag from him, “maybe then you wouldn’t have put up such a fight.”
The smell of the man’s breath makes Jisung’s head swim with the memory, and he screws his eyes shut, heaving out another dry gag that makes the man laugh loudly.
“What a pretty sound, princess,” he drawls, and the nausea in Jisung’s belly rises up in one last resistance, like venomous rage. He pries open his eyes, faces him and spits in his face.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jisung hisses, his voice shaky but laced with hatred.
The pig’s shocked face makes way for a grimace of anger, and he raises his hand and Jisung closes his eyes, braces for impact, hopes he can somehow avoid a concussion so he can still run – but the impact never comes. He blinks his eyes open and blinks at the hand that’s still raised, though there are lithe fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist.
“You put one finger on him and I will gut you alive.”
Minho’s voice is calm and cutting, but the pig doesn’t seem to know what’s good for him because he only guffaws out a laugh.
“Ah, I see you’ve already claimed the little whore. I’m sure we can come to an agreement, share his holes before we dispose of him.”
There’s a second of silence, utter, poisonous silence as Jisung watches the expression on Minho’s face go from disdain to putrid hatred and then his hand is wound around the man’s throat, squeezing so hard the pig retches, fights for air, as Minho pushes him away from Jisung.
He shoves him, makes the man stumble backwards, double over, gasping, but Minho doesn’t stop, places his hands square on the man’s shoulders and rams his knee into his face twice. There’s a sickening crunch, then another, and Jisung thrashes against the mast. The rope cutting into his stomach makes him even more nauseous, but he needs to get out.
“Minho, let me go,” he rasps out, loud enough that he knows Minho heard him, but Minho doesn’t move, only drags the pig up and lands his knee into his guts.
“Minho,” Jisung warns, his whole body burning. This is his revenge. How dare he take this from him. “Minho, I swear, let me go.”
But Minho keeps ignoring him.
“Let me GO!” Jisung screams, the last word piercing the air with such ferocious anger that Minho stops in his tracks. “Let me fucking go, Minho, that fucker is mine, he’s fucking mine to gut, let. me. GO.”
Minho stares at him, his usual scowl nowhere to be seen as he blinks, and then he takes one step closer, raises his knife and cuts through the ropes.
Jisung nearly falls from the sudden lack of support, but he catches himself, and gets up, legs shaky and uneven, but when he meets the guy’s eyes, his rage boils over. He wrenches Minho’s cutlass from his hands, ignoring the weak complaint, and stalks towards the man whose face has been haunting him in his sleep for months.
The pig puts up a fight, but he’s sluggish and slow, and he barely gets a punch in before Jisung socks him in his face so hard he stumbles back. Jisung’s body is no longer his own. It’s controlled by blind hatred, a violence so strong it feels almost cleansing, and before he knows it, his fist hits the side of the guy’s skull and his boot hits his balls. The guy wails and Jisung revels in it, adrenaline cursing through his veins when he finally pulls back and sinks the long blade of his cutlass into the man’s stomach. Then he does it again and there’s blood, so much blood, but he doesn’t care. Only stabs him one more time before dragging him to the side of the ship, propping him up just enough so he can look at the man’s rapidly paling, terrified face.
“Go to hell,” Jisung growls before he shoves him enough so he falls off the side of the ship. He stares into the terrified eyes of the man of his nightmares, watches him flail, red clouding the water as he tries to keep himself but failing to. When the waves close over his head and pull him under, it feels like a weight falls off Jisung’s chest and the first breath he takes, no matter how ragged it is, feels like the first breath of relief.
But he can’t stare into the water forever. He avoids Minho’s gaze when he turns around, focuses instead on Hyunjin, desperately defending himself in an uneven fist fight with one of his uncle’s men that he hadn’t yet had the displeasure of meeting, and he takes the few steps towards them, kicks the guy’s knees out from under him so roughly that he crumbles into the deck with a cry of pain. Hyunjin yelps and jumps to the side just in time to avoid the blood when Jisung’s knife sinks deep into the man’s throat. Jisung can feel it seep through his clothes.
When he looks up at Hyunjin, the latter is staring at him wide-eyed. There’s a dark bruise blooming on Hyunjin’s cheekbone, and Jisung grimaces.
“You okay?” he asks and Hyunjin just stares at him for a second, with something in his eyes that Jisung can’t find it in himself to decode, before he nods. Jisung nods back and stalks off, intercepting another asshole and making quick work of him, the balance of the blade in his hand growing on him as he finally lets his brain turn off and just do.
And it doesn’t take long before the last man has been disposed of, the captain’s crew a bloody, bruised mess, but with no casualties on their side. Jisung watches as Changbin looks at the captain, who’s standing in their midst as tall as ever, her demeanour as calm and collected as before the fight, despite her split and bruised lip, the blood caked into her hair. She makes a terrifying picture like this, eyes so sharp they could cut glass, her chest heaving, the muscles in her arm jumping when she sheathes her cutlass.
“Loot and burn it. Look for another one of those maps. Make sure the governor will never find a trace of this ship.”
Changbin nods, bows almost imperceptibly, waves over some more men, and they set to work, boarding the now hauntingly empty ship with their knives drawn.
Jisung doesn’t stay to watch. When he turns around to go, his eyes catch on Minho. For the first time maybe since they met, Minho doesn’t look at him with a scowl or some mask of disdain. No, for the first time, Minho just looks at him, eyes almost curious in the way they crinkle at the edges, his lips pursed uncertainly. Jisung bites back a bitter laugh at the timing of it all, and the flame in his stomach licks up once more, coiling high into his throat as he takes a step towards him.
The clatter of his blood stained knife falling to the floor echoes sharply in the silence of the whole ship watching them. But nobody moves to stop Jisung as he stalks towards Minho, eyes locked onto his, dark anger in his eyes. Nobody moves even when Minho takes a few steps back, his eyes now the ones widening in fear, lighting a small fire of satisfaction in Jisung’s gut.
Nobody moves when Jisung pulls his fist back and punches Minho square in the jaw, the bones in his hand making contact with Minho’s chiseled jawline with a dull thud.
Jisung half expected all hell to break loose, expected to be intercepted or at least held back, taken captive after the fact. He’d accepted it, even, in return for this one opportunity to stand up to him.
But, nothing. Nobody moves to stop him. The whole crew watches as Minho reels back, stumbles, a hand flying to cradle his face. The look of surprise, of pain on Minho’s face is more satisfying than it should be, but Jisung has stopped caring.
He doesn’t look at anyone when he turns, stalks straight towards the big heavy door leading below deck, stumbles down the stairs and through the empty common area and into Felix and his cabin.
He locks the door behind himself and then his legs give out and he finally, finally, cries.
He doesn’t know how much time passes like that, his body crumpled on the hard wooden floor of the cabin, the last rays of sunlight streaming through the porthole virtually mocking him as bone wrenching sobs tear through him, tears streaming down his cheeks and leaving darker spots on the already blood-darkened material of his jacket. But at some point, the sobs subside, his body empty and tired and brittle. When his nose clears, all he can smell is the drying blood, and it nearly makes him gag. So he gets up, one hand on the chest of drawers to help him stay upright, and turns around. When he sees himself in the mirror behind the door, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s covered in blood, the least of it is his own. A smear of it across his cheek, pale tear tracks running through it, the rest of it on his clothes, rusty red soaked and dried into the white of his shirt, staining the red of his coat an even darker colour. He briefly wonders if it will come out because … Hyunjin made him that coat. His stomach drops a little, makes the nausea worse. Maybe it all won’t matter any more soon.
He wipes a semi clean part of his sleeve over his face with a scoff, tries to hide the worst evidence of his crying, before he gathers his courage and steps out into the hallway.
But he doesn’t meet anyone as he makes his way to the ship’s baths. It seems odd, but he’s beyond questioning it, his chest an empty pit, his eyes red and raw from the panicked sobs that racked through him for a solid hour. He lights the logs that heat up the water, shrugs off his jacket, gingerly, hesitantly throws it into the corner with the laundry where there are other bloodstained shirts and garments and fills one of the three wooden tubs to the brim.
The water scalds his skin a little as he gets in, but he ignores it, welcomes it almost. Much like the rage earlier, the heat feels cleansing, though also equally soothing, the smell of salt and lavender rising from the suds. He ignores the sharp pain of the soap sinking in the rope burns on his hips.
He sits and listens, waits for a sound to come from the outside, but it’s eerily quiet. There must be about 35 other pirates on this ship, all covered in grime and blood, aching for a bath just like him, so he has no doubts now; he’s sure that someone must have told them not to come down here, to give him space. Maybe Hyunjin or Felix. He wishes he knew why.
He’s dead, he thinks. Then again. He’s dead. A tiny, fragile laugh bubbles out of his chest. He’s finally fucking dead. For good. Forever. Never again.
Jisung thinks about it, wonders why this one’s different, but the answer is simple – because all the other ones who had touched him over the years, the ones who had grabbed his ass in the hallways of his father’s house, forced drunken kisses onto him at his uncle’s banquets, none of them had had that look in their face that the pig had when the hinges had finally given way and the door swung open. None of them had looked so entirely bloodthirsty as they approached him …
He shivers, but it’s okay. He's calm. It’s over now.
When he scrubs at his hair, the water turns red and the smell of iron mixes with the steam, and it’s so putrid it makes his stomach turn, so he slowly lifts himself out of the tub. He dresses quietly, his chest awfully empty. He wonders where they all are. Maybe they’re on the deck, talking about what to do with him. He wonders if Minho’s face will bruise because he almost hopes so. Or maybe he’s already with the captain in her quarters …
The captain. Her betrayal hurts the most. It fills him with a deep, searing sense of shame and hurt. He had expected Minho to be cold, to not trust him, after he had rebuked so many of Jisung’s attempt to bridge the gap. But her?
It’s humiliating, but some part of him thought he was … special to her. She had offered him a spot on her crew on that first night, had instructed her men to treat him well, had taken him on even after he’d put his foot in his mouth more than once. She’d held him through his panic attack, looked at him like she understood him, and he’d thought she had … they had – god, he’s stupid. She’d said it then, it was part of her job. He shouldn’t be getting attached, not to a pirate, not to his captain, not to his captain who was probably fucking …
God, he’s so fucking stupid.
The corridors are still deserted, but through the silence, he hears the clatter of plates from the mess, and he realises how late it must be. He briefly wonders if he can get away with not eating, hiding away in his and Felix’s cabin until Felix comes back later, but his stomach growls loudly. And he hates avoiding things. If they were going to shun him, he’d rather know now.
His feet steadily carry him through the living area, though he falters briefly in front of the two big swinging doors, his heart thundering in his chest. He swallows down the fear, tries to steel himself for the worst, and then he pushes open the doors.
Conversation around the room wavers as the men’s eyes fall on him, but before he can think too hard about it, two lithe arms are thrown over his shoulders and long, and he is pulled into a bone-crushing hug.
“I’m so sorry,” Hyunjin mumbles into his neck, his long black hair tickling Jisung’s cheek and Jisung blinks stupidly, his heart trying to catch up as he wraps his arms around Hyunjin’s waist. He feels himself squeezing him back, his hands trembling where they lie.
Hyunjin squeezes him even harder before he pulls back and looks at him with big, apologetic eyes.
“I’m so sorry. We’re so sorry,” Hyunjin sniffles out and Jisung is speechless, overwhelmed, can only shake his head dumbly.
He lets his eyes flicker over the room and to his surprise, he doesn’t find any hostility or distrust, only … he blinks dumbly. Only awkward regret, hesitant smiles and apologetic looks. Felix comes up to them and peels Hyunjin off Jisung, pulling him closer to their table, where the usual group, except for Chan, is already gathered.
“I’m sorry, Jisung,” Hyunjin rambles, one of his hands latching around Jisung’s arm. “I should’ve known better, I should’ve … said something. But Minho …”
He falters and Felix takes over. Jisung is still frozen in place.
“Minho is … protective of this, of us, of our crew. And usually, his gut feelings are right. But he made a wrong call.”
The scoff claws its way out of Jisung’s chest before he can stop it. The bitterness is noxious.
“I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to him. Like, I know he hates me for some reason, but I didn’t think he would try to get me killed.”
The doors to the mess swing open and Jisung doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is when he sees Felix’s face darken, his eyebrows drawing together as he looks over Jisung’s shoulder and tugs him closer. The looks of disapproval and the dead silence around the room should make Jisung feel elated, should make him feel vindicated, but when he turns around sees the look on Minho’s face, he almost feels … bad.
There’s a big, purple bruise on his jaw where Jisung’s fist had landed. He stares back at the room full of scowls with a pale uncertainty that Jisung has never seen on him, hell, never thought he would be capable of. It’s such a far cry from his usual grouchy arrogance that it’s almost scary. When Minho turns and finally makes eye contact with Jisung, still wedged between Hyunjin and Felix, Felix’s arm around his shoulders and Hyunjin’s hand on his arm, his eyes are hazy.
He takes one almost step, before he stops himself, grimacing as he squares his shoulders and fixes Jisung with an uneven look, one that wavers away from him after not even a second. His usually cutting voice floats through the air uncertainly, though Jisung can tell he’s doing his best to keep it steady.
“The captain wants to see you. On the deck.”
And with that, he turns and escapes into the kitchen. Jisung turns back to Hyunjin and Felix with a thousand questions on his face.
But Felix only gives Jisung a reassuring squeeze before gesturing to the door. Even Hyunjin only nods at him and pushes him towards the door. And Jisung goes, almost as in a trance, but he throws a glance back before they close behind him. He sees Felix and Hyunjin watching him go, regretful smiles on their faces. Through the windows in the door to the kitchen, he sees Minho’s slumped over form over the kitchen counter. For a brief second, he wonders if this will be the last time he’ll see them. He blinks away the fist closing around his heart and takes the steps up to the deck two at a time before his courage fails him.
The clear night air, the chilly breeze that blows, it nearly knocks him off his feet, rushing into his lungs like a cold drink of water. He looks up at the sky, clear, full of stars. Beautiful, all the way out here, so many bright little glimmers, bunched together and winking at him like they always have, always will. He thinks he can hear Jeongin’s voice somewhere above him, singing softly, and then someone says his name.
The captain is sitting on the railing to Jisung’s left, a dark brown bottle in her hands. As Jisung walks closer, he sees how tired she looks. Her hair is still a little damp from where she presumably had to also wash blood out of it, and instead of her usual heavy coat, she’s wearing some kind of thick knitted jacket. She looks … nice like this, Jisung can’t help but think. Softer.
He stops a few feet in front of her and knits his fingers together in front of him. She just looks at him for a few seconds before she sighs and pats the spot next to her.
He sits gingerly, awkwardly, preoccupied as he is with trying to keep a reasonable distance between them. He doesn’t know how to deal with her touching him today. She offers the bottle to him wordlessly, and he takes it, taking a deep drink, swallowing the burning alcohol down without even flinching. It feels weird on his painfully empty stomach, but in the same theme of things, it also feels cleansing. Jeongin’s voice floats down from above them more clearly now. His voice is soft, full of emotions, a fluttering, beautiful thing in the night.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles to himself before he can stop it.
The captain laughs, small and shy.
“Isn’t it? I come out here a lot at night, just to hear him sing. I don’t even know if he knows.”
There it is again, Jisung thinks, her unwavering love for this, this life, this ship, this crew. He wants so badly to be enveloped by it, too, that it makes him look a fool. Jeongin’s song ends, and Jisung shivers.
“I’m sorry,” the captain says suddenly, and Jisung sucks in a breath. He doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t trust himself to. He takes another swig of rum, longer this time. It still burns, but his stomach feels like it’s going numb now.
The captain still hesitates, and Jisung nervously picks at the remnants of the label on the bottle.
“I’m sorry for today. I made … a wrong call. A very wrong call.”
Jisung scoffs.
“Technically, Minho did.”
The captain laughs humourlessly, extends her hand towards the bottle and Jisung hands it to her, hates how his heart flutters in his chest when her fingers brush over his. She takes a long drink, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Yeah, but I didn’t stop him,” she says quietly, “because usually, Minho’s gut feelings are right, so I don’t oppose him. But today, I should’ve.”
Jisung shrugs, his heart aching in his chest.
“No, don’t do that,” the captain sighs and Jisung, in his surprise, lifts his head and looks at her. There’s a tortured smile on her face. “Don’t pretend like it’s okay. It’s not. I … I didn’t think you would go back to them, I didn’t think you could’ve lied to us all. And I should’ve said something. I promised you we’d keep you safe, that we’re family, and then I just left you there.”
A traitorous tear spills from Jisung’s eyes before he can stop it, and he wipes it away quickly with a quiet fuck.
The captain reaches out, her fingers wrapping around Jisung’s arm, and Jisung freezes, both from the suddenness and the gentle authority that seems to flow from her hands through a touch as simple as that.
“Don’t do that, either. I like seeing how you feel,” she says quietly and Jisung blinks stupidly, the tears clearing to reveal her face and … god, the softness in her gaze on him, her features bathed in moonlight – the longing hits him square in the chest, takes his breath away for a second.
But it passes, fizzles out into a moment of silence and Jisung weighs his next words for a while, before he decides to just ask. If there’s anyone who can give him an answer, it’s her. A bitter thought.
“Why does he hate me?”
The captain doesn’t ask who.
“I don’t know. I don’t think he hates you, he just … doesn’t understand you, doesn’t know what to do with you.”
Jisung just nods absentmindedly. Not like understands Minho any better.
“He wouldn’t have let you get killed,” the captain adds after a few seconds of silence. She sounds hesitant. “He didn’t want you getting hurt, either. He really beat himself up about that guy punching you when he wasn’t looking. That’s how I know he doesn’t hate you. He wouldn’t have done that for someone he hates.”
Jisung sighs and nods and takes the bottle the captain is holding out in his direction again. He throws his head back and takes a long drink that he swallows without looking at her. After a few more seconds of silence, the captain gets up. Jisung tries not to feel too disappointed. He thinks he could’ve sat with her like this all night.
“I …” she starts and stops, running her hand through her hair nervously. Jisung wishes he could reach out, soothe her nerves, just like she had done with him that day on this very same deck. “I don’t usually do this because, frankly, it’s fucking stupid and could get me and my crew killed, but you seem to keep making me make these decisions …”
She trails off before she gestures over to her left. Jisung follows her eyes.
“I’m giving you an out. There’s a boat. In it, there’s a compass and more than enough rations to last you for the two days it should take you to reach the nearest port. You’ll probably make it just fine.”
Jisung stares from the boat to her, stupidly. He wonders if he would see her blush if it wasn’t so dark.
“I … wish you wouldn’t leave, if I can be honest, but I know it’s too much to ask you to trust us again, after what happened today. And I’d rather take this risk than force you to stay with us if you don’t trust us. So I will take my leave now, and you can make up your mind and if you’re gone in the morning then … well, I hope our paths will cross again. Goodbye, Jisung.”
Jisung watches her turn, wrapping her cardigan closer around herself. It doesn’t take him longer than a few of her steps to know what he wants.
He catches up with her by the heavy door, takes one awkward step forward and grasps the knob before she can. He swings the door open, gives her a sheepish smile, before he motions for her to go through. She breathes out a disbelieving chuckle at his sudden moment of gentlemanly chivalry, and heat rises to his cheeks before he can stop it. But she doesn’t say anything, only walks through the door he holds open and hesitates where the path divides, looking at Jisung with that gaze again, the one that makes him feel like he's paper thin, his soul laid bare.
He gives her the best smile he can muster.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly, but resolutely. “Goodnight, captain.”
And with a little bow, his heart beating in his throat, he turns on his heels and makes his way to the stairs leading to his cabins.
< chapter III - chapter V >
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Wdym this ending made me cry??? Wdym after all that bloodshed it's still so soft??? Wdym "Cover Me" started playing while I was reading out Jisung and the Captain's conversation???
I- you- this is- *sigh* I literally have no words. What can I say that I haven't already??? You are magnificent, this is magnificent and I'm gonna paste my notes now because I literally have nothing else to say😭
Rec: Songs very very suited for the action part of this chapter
"When he hears it."
Ah shit. Here we go😭
"It's time to send a message."
Oh shit! Here we go!!
"Jisung is just about...scolding anger. Fucking Minho."
What the fuck?!? Oh god oh god oh god-
"" Clearly your uncle has sent someone to fetch you" Minho spits out...feel his heart thumping in his chest.
You know...I can't even be mad, or blame them. Pirates that don't just do regular pirate ship but they actively are working against the Government and took down a Government Ship a few weeks ago and took an, to the best of their knowledge, important Government personnel "hostage" and suddenly a Government ship is after them? When the one a few days prior had seemingly ignored them? Maybe word took a while to travel and they're just now learning about Jisung's capture. I'd be wary too. Jisung hasn't earned their trust properly yet and circumstances are just to well alligned. It sucks. It's bad. Feelings are all over the place but this is life or death. Uggghhhh Maaaaayyyyyy!!!!
"Said to never trust them because they o my worked for their own gain."
Pot calling the kettle's bottom black😒 Projecting much😐
"" I'm going to get killed." - "I won't let that happen princess"
Just say you'll protect him Minho god fuck😭😭You and words really don't work do they??
"And when it is, the first thing Jisung sees is the face of the man he hoped he would never have to see aagain"
Oh fuck no.
"Before the man's fist comes flying at his head"
[I get very intensely invested from here]
"The man sneers out a vicious, bilious “hello, princess” and Jisung has to bite back a panicked whimper."
Yeah that nickname needs to change right fucking now.
"Let me GO!" Jisung screams...feels like the first breathe of relief"
The anger in my chest while reading, the utter satisfaction when Minho let Jisung go, the wider my smile got every stab, the Joy when Jisung throws that fucker overboard. It's actually insane😂 I even felt relieved by the end of it.
Jisung can feel it seem through his clothes
I'm reveling a little to much at all this revenge and bloodshed. Someone get me a psychological assessment😭
And it doesn’t take long...she sheathes her cutlass.
I'll say it again. This woman, in my mind, is so fucking FINE😫❤️🔥
Nobody moves even when Minho takes a few steps back, his eyes now the ones widening in fear, lighting a small fire of satisfaction in Jisung’s gut.
Oh.
[Tell me why I started smiling a little]
The look of surprise, of pain on Minho’s face is more satisfying than it should be, but Jisung has stopped caring.
Help no I love Minho but...that actually was kinda satisfying because he kinda deserves it🥲 Or am I just being mean? To caught up in the absolutely beautiful feelings and fists that just transpired?
He locks the door behind himself and then his legs give out and he finally, finally cries.
summary: Han Jisung is the bane of Minho's existence. Fuck Han Jisung.
word count: 7.1k
warnings: swearing, nudity
author's note: oooooh things are getting spicy bestiessss. thank you for all the love and the feedback, i appreciagte every single word. let's see where this goes 👀
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
series masterlist // skzms masterlist
< chapter IV - chapter VI >
Fuck Han Jisung.
Minho’s scalp is on fire, the midday sun bearing down on him where he sits at the bow of the ship. His hat lies forgotten in the captain’s quarters, but she’s currently having a strategy meeting with Hyunjin, so he doesn’t want to barge in just to get it. So here’s forced to bear it, beads of sweat accumulating on his brow, his skin burning under his black hair until he thinks he can feel the sunburn develop.
Then he hears it again. The stupidest fucking laugh he has ever heard, echoing across the deck, loud and shimmery and unabashed, as if its owner didn’t have a care in the world. What’s Han Jisung got to be so fucking happy about all the fucking time? Literally every time Minho sees the guy, he’s smiling. Or well, he is, until his eyes fall on Minho and then his smile always, without fail, dies a swift and painful death, crumpling until he’s looking at him with a barely contained scowl.
Minho flinches where he sits, lifts his arm and sinks his knife deep into the wood of the ship next to his legs with a dull thud. It shouldn’t affect him so much, the fact that Han Jisung arrived on the ship one day, as a prisoner, their biggest enemy’s nephew no less, all fancy clothes and expensive boots, pouty lips and flushed cheeks, and somehow wormed himself into everyone’s heart.
Minho has to admit he wasn’t very … focused that first day when they dragged Jisung into the room, his mind, and his dick, very preoccupied with the taste of his captain on his lips, the thundering of his heart as he allowed himself to leave his hands on her waist. Possessive, satiating something hidden deep in his chest that he didn’t allow himself to indulge in often, all too aware of the invisible line between them.
But he remembers Han Jisung’s arrogance, the scowl painted on his face that looked more like a petulant child than anything else. He also remembers the curl of familiar hatred in his guts when he spoke about his old crew, what they would try to do to him, remembers filing the knowledge away for later, to know just how painfully he would kill them once he got his hands on them – though Han Jisung somehow managed to sour even that with that fucking attitude of his, like he didn’t ever need Minho, quite the opposite. Arrogant asshole.
Minho lets his eyes wander over the deck, skimming the few groups of pirates sitting or working, until his eyes meet Jisung’s where he’s leaning against a mast, chatting to Felix. As per usual, the bright, gummy smile on Jisung’s face dims as soon as he sees Minho, the corners of his mouth falling, eyebrows furrowing and Minho suppresses the urge to snarl, spit onto the planks. Instead, he forces himself to look away, wrests his knife from the wood and drives it in harder, the plank splintering from the impact. When he looks back, Jisung has shifted, half of his perfectly shaped back now facing Minho instead of his face. And he seems to have recovered from Minho’s unpleasant presence, nay existence, his broad shoulders jumping with a silent giggle at something Felix must’ve said.
Felix. Felix, who had joined them after the captain had found him in that horrible whorehouse in Nassau two years ago, that still makes Minho shiver when he just thinks about it. He remembers the captain’s face when they heard his screams from the outside, and she had rushed in without a second’s hesitation, Minho himself hot on her heels, pulling the man who was forcing himself onto Felix off with a violent shove. Minho remembers because he had dragged the man out the door, hatred tickling his fingertips as he slit his throat and left him to bleed out slowly and painfully in an alley. By the time he’d come back, still wiping his knife clean from the filthy scum’s blood, Felix was already part of the crew, thanking him with sparkling eyes and a disarming smile.
Felix, who, for this reason, had never had a cabin mate – until Jisung. Minho doesn’t know how it happened, and he likes to pretend he’s not dying to know. But, of course, nobody volunteers the information. They’re all more than aware of Minho and Jisung’s … differences.
And they’re all on Jisung’s side, his brain supplies unhelpfully. Minho scowls at the surf. Jisung and Felix are inseparable. Seungmin greets Jisung with a soft smile, the rarest thing Kim Seungmin could hand out, patting Jisung on the back when he brings him food. Changbin and Chan sit next to him and pat him on the head when he offers them his leftovers. Hyunjin seems halfway to a serious crush on the guy, always making clothes for him and then dressing him up and running his hands all over Jisung’s body, gushing about his trim waist and thick thighs. And he’s pretty sure he heard Jisung’s stupid fucking laugh from the top a couple nights ago while he and the captain were … it doesn’t matter.
He just doesn’t get it. What’s so fucking special about Han Jisung?!
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hyunjin’s mop of black hair emerge from below deck and make for where Felix and Jisung are chatting and Minho decides he’s just about had enough of the sun scorching his head, of Han Jisung’s stupid laugh.
He swings his legs onto the deck, wrenches his knife from the wood and sheathes it. He feels three pairs of eyes on him as he walks past the little group of them, but he doesn’t spare them a single glance.
Hyunjin will probably give him an earful later about being a grumpy asshole, but he doesn’t care. He’d take that over having to watch his mere presence drain all happiness from Han Jisung’s eyes for the second time in half an hour.
His legs carry him to the captain’s quarters almost on autopilot. Changbin gives him a nod as he raps his knuckles against the heavy door twice and pushes it open.
And God, she’s a sight for sore eyes. Legs propped up on the edge of her desk, her knitted coat wrapped closely around her, what he assumes is Hyunjin’s ration list for the next stopover resting on her knees, her plump bottom lip worried between her teeth.
She only briefly raises her head when he enters, gives him a small, entirely radiant smile, before she turns her attention back to the paper in her lap. Minho closes the door behind him carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots his hat, sitting on the low settee next to her desk. But he doesn’t need it any more, ignores it in favour of walking over to her, coming up behind her until he can lean over her, his hands supporting himself on the armrests of her chair. His eyes run over the words on the paper, but he’s not even going to pretend like he’s reading it, his focus entirely on the way his chest is pressed ever so slightly against her shoulders, his arms resting on hers. The smell of rosemary and lavender and her that emanates from her hair much too faint for his liking from where he is, leaving him aching for more.
“We could afford two or three more crew,” she says, pensively, underneath him, “could really do with them, too, to upkeep the ship and have a better chance with attackers.”
He hums in agreement as she keeps talking, but he’s not really listening as he allows himself to succumb to the siren song of her presence, leaning down a little bit more until he can take a quiet, deep breath of her.
Her chuckle jolts him out of his reverie.
“Are you even listening?”
Minho absentmindedly hums again, a lazy grin spreading over his lips as he leans down, presses a kiss into her hair.
“Something something we should get more men, but you don’t know where to find them,” he mumbles, drags his lips down until they’re ghosting over the shell of her ear. Her little chuckle gives way to a delicious sigh that Minho wants to bottle for a rainy day.
“Like Jisung, he’s been a great addition. I wish they could all just wander into our hands like that …”
Minho freezes, his lips stilling on her warm, rosemary skin. The bliss of their bubble, her skin under his lips, burst suddenly and violently. Han Jisung. Again. He pulls back abruptly.
“Right.”
It comes out acrid. He turns around, busies himself picking up his hat from the settee, dusting it off carefully. He can feel her eyes boring into his back.
“Why do you hate the guy so much, Minho?” she suddenly asks, and he’s taken aback by the directness of her question. He scoffs, turns around and meets her eyes. She doesn’t look angry, just … like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Why do I hate him? Why does he hate me?”
The captain gives him a withering look.
“You literally nearly got him killed a couple weeks ago.”
“Yeah? And he punched me for it, in front of everyone, so I considered us even,” Minho sneers, and he knows he’s being petty. But he’s had about enough of everyone being on his ass about not liking Han Jisung when Han Jisung has been fucking recoiling from him since the very first day …
“Well, did you ever apologise? I know we’re not the most conventional with our customs, but last I checked that would still be a decent thing to do,” the captain chides, and Minho feels anger bubble in his chest. Of course. She’s on his side, too. It hurts more than he can allow himself to admit.
“I did not,” he spits, the stiff felt of his hat crinkling between his tightening fingers, “I don’t know how I would, considering the guy flees every time I set foot into the same room as him.”
The bitterness rises in his chest, and he turns around, makes for the door before he takes it out on her and regrets it later.
“Fine, you win, we won’t talk about it,” she sighs, “I’m about to go over those maps we took from Han Yujun’s ships with Seungmin, do you want to stay?”
Minho recognises the olive branch she’s holding out, but the olive branch reeks of pity, and he’d rather die than suffer that from her. He doesn’t turn when he reaches the door and opens it.
“No, thanks, I’ll see you at dinner.”
And with that, he walks out and straight to his own quarters, where he locks the door and buries himself in his book and his self-pity until the memory of Han Jisung stings a little less.
And by the time he makes his way back to the captain’s quarters a few hours later, he does feel better. He also feels more than a little sorry for how he reacted earlier. He could’ve been with her this whole time, just the two of them in their world. Maybe she would’ve leaned against his chest as they looked at the maps, allowing him to bury his face in her neck, pressing wet little kisses against her irresistible skin until she went pliable in his hands, ignoring Seungmin’s knock in favour of sinking between her legs and making her cum on his tongue.
But instead he had let Han Jisung get to him, again, and what did that get him?! He vows to himself that he won’t ever let it happen again, but that is easier said than done when he walks into the empty corridor and the person he sees through the half open door is most definitely not Seungmin.
“Could it be somewhere super specific? Like the Indian Ocean or the North Sea or something?” Jisung’s voice floats through the air. It’s deeper than Minho’s own, he can’t help but notice.
The captain hums, quietly, thoughtfully.
“Because … I mean, I’ve only ever been once, but I’ve seen maps like these of … of groups of small islands or archipelagos.”
Minho noiselessly tiptoes closer, until he has a clearer view of the room.
Night has fallen and the candles in the sconces all around the room bathe the desk, the settee, the captain perched on the corner of her desk and Jisung leaned over it in a warm, sensual light. She looks like a dream, the candlelight giving her an ethereal glow, softening the hardness in her features, softening everything about her usually wound taut body until Minho thinks he can feel her under his fingertips. Minho should know. This is his time to be in her room like this. But now the flickers of the flames instead bathe Han Jisung in their warmth, radiating off his soft, wavy hair, dipping the planes of honeyed skin exposed by another one of Hyunjin’s creations in a layer of gold so undeniably attractive, Minho wants to throw up.
“Seungmin has cross-checked them with every single one of our maps,” the captain mumbles, pointing to a stack of paper on the edge of the desk, Jisung follows her finger with a thoughtful look on his face. “And none of it lines up. Our maps are only a few years old, and Seungmin is one of the best cartographers out there …”
She slides off the corner of desk and walks over to Jisung and reaches across him to rifle through the papers and Minho watches Jisung’s eyelids flutter, gaze dragging over the expanse of her neck, then her back where her shirt has ridden up to expose the smallest sliver of the skin of her waist; watches his lips part when her arm brushes against his chest.
“Ah. Look,” she exclaims, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, entirely oblivious, and pulls the map towards her. She grabs another one to place next to it, gesturing between them and looking back at Jisung, who blinks at her for a second before lowering his gaze to the maps again. “This one seems to look really similar to this one we found on your ship. But, as Seungmin pointed out, it’s still not right. It’s not the same. And the scaling of these maps we got from your uncle’s ships just doesn’t … make any sense. From a cartography perspective.”
Jisung huffs, shifts his weight from one foot to the other and glares down at the desk with a deep furrow between his brows. He fixes the paper with a mean glare, like he’s trying to force it to give up its secrets by sheer willpower alone.
“I don’t even …” Jisung mumbles, a frustrated huff falling from his pouted lips, “I’ve never understood why he did this anyways. He would send these big ships, with crews of 20 people and someone like me on board, but the ships would mostly be empty … Well, except for these maps, it seems, maps that he didn’t even tell me about …”
He shakes his head incredulously, leaning over the desk again to inspect one of the maps, lingering on the meticulously painted edges of them with his ringed fingers. He leans his cheek in the cradle of his hand and sighs, absentmindedly shrugging off his jacket, throwing it over the back of the chair behind him and shoving the sleeves of his ruffled white shirt up his arms.
Minho watches the captain’s eyes follow Jisung’s movements, drag over his arms, his collarbones, the exposed V of his chest before it flutters up to his profile, lingers on his lips. Minho’s heart hardens into something unrecognisable.
The captain looks back at the maps, sighs, but it’s lighter now. She reaches out, gently pats Jisung on the shoulder, letting her hand rest there for only a second, but it’s enough for Jisung to straighten up with a start. He blinks down at her, stares.
“Just think about it, will you? Because Seungmin and I are at our wit’s end. You’re kind of our last chance …” she says, and Jisung turns to her, his face full of the same stubborn determination as that day when he had screamed at Minho to untie him.
“I promise, I’ll figure it out … we’ll figure it out,” Jisung asserts.
The captain gives him a devastating, lopsided smile, one that makes the tips of Jisung’s ears turn pink and Minho’s heart drop into his stomach.
“Give me some of your optimism, please,” the captain chuckles, but it’s soft, her cheeks warming in a way that makes Jisung’s pout stretch into a sweet, conspiratorial smile. He leans into her, bumps her shoulder with his playfully.
“Hey, you’ve got me now. How could we ever lose?” Jisung chokes with another sickeningly sweet smile that makes his cheeks puff up and Minho watches his fingers brush against hers where they hang next to one another, how he extends his pointer finger to drag over the back of her hand, watches their eyes catch on each other for just a broken moment too long and Minho burns.
He turns abruptly because he knows he can’t stand any more of it, his mind filling with images to torture himself, of Jisung leaning in, kissing her in the golden candlelight that’s his, running his tongue over the seam of her lips, her soft sinful hands on Jisung’s body – his world spins, legs uneven as he stumbles down the hallway, the throbbing wrath in his guts driving him down the stairs, through the living area where he ignores Changbin’s incredulous call of his name and straight through the mess and into the kitchen.
The swinging doors slam against the wall with a loud crack and Felix nearly jumps out of his skin, drops the wooden spoon into the pot he was stirring. Sauce splatters all over his apron, and he curses, gives Minho a dirty look, but Minho has no patience left in his body. The captain. His captain. Not her. Why her?!
“Your little charity case is trying to get into our captain’s pants,” Minho barks out, probably loud enough for anyone lingering in the mess to hear. He doesn’t care. They should all know the audacity of their new favourite.
“Who?!” Felix asks, incredulous, fixing Minho with an infuriatingly patronising look.
“Your little charity case. Your pet. Fucking Han Jisung,” he spits out and Felix’s eyes widen before they narrow again, this time much less friendly.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you, Minho, he’s not my … what the fuck?!”
“Whatever,” Minho interrupts him, waves his hand dismissively rolls his eyes, “what matters is that he’s trying to get into the captain’s pants.”
Felix’ eyes narrow even further.
“I don’t understand what you of all people are trying to say with that.”
Minho’s clenches his fists so hard he hears a knuckle pop.
“He hasn’t even been here for a year, and he’s already trying to seduce the only woman on the ship. It’s preposterous, it’s disrespectful, it’s …”
Felix shakes his head and turns back to the pot, decisively grasping the spoon, stirring whatever he’s cooking with all the calm in the world. He doesn’t even look at Minho when he finally speaks.
“Well, does she want him, too?” he asks nonchalantly, and Minho’s vision goes blood-red. When he comes to, there’s sauce spilled all over his shirt and his hands are wrapped around Felix’s throat, straining against him where Minho has him pinned against the wall, harder than he knows he should. But Felix is just glaring back at him, coughing, but unfazed in his fury. His foot kicks out and painfully catches Minho in the knee. Minho almost welcomes the pain.
“I can’t believe you would take a stranger’s side over all of us, over the captain who saved your fucking life,” he screams and Felix’s eyes narrow to slits. Behind Minho, the kitchen doors slam open again, and then he’s being dragged back, away from Felix whose voice cuts him deeply.
“Don’t pretend like this is about the captain, you fucking hypocrite,” Felix yells, “you’ve been fucking her for years.”
Changbin is in front of him, his hands on his chest, pushing him away from Felix and muttering calming words when Felix delivers the final blow.
“You’re just scared she won’t want you any more when she finally realises what an asshole you are. When she realises there’s someone much nicer out there.”
Minho thinks everyone in the room might hear his heart crack cleanly in two. He shoves Changbin to the side and lunges at Felix again, shoving him into the wall so hard he hears Felix’ head thunk against the wall, hears Felix’ hiss of pain. He can’t see Felix’ face, can barely make out the contours of the kitchen, tears of rage in his eyes blinding him. Changbin grabs him again, his arms locking around Minho’s middle, lifting him off the floor as he carries him away.
“I fucking hate you,” Minho screams, legs thrashing, trying to get out of Changbin’s iron grip. He barely recognises his own voice, so shrill and vengeful. Another tear makes a track down his burning cheeks, “we should’ve fucking left you there.”
The last thing he hears is Felix scoffing out in disbelief before Changbin is dragging him from the kitchen, through the mess and the living room, Minho kicking and screaming in his hold all the way up the first flight of stairs, until Changbin kicks open the door to Minho’s quarters and throws him onto his bed unceremoniously. He crosses his arms and fixes Minho with a look so stern that it makes Minho falter, stare back at him petulantly.
“Minho,” Changbin warns, his face harder than Minho has ever seen it. He suddenly feels very small. “Minho, whatever it is that’s got you so fucked up that you’re fighting your friends, sort it out before you do any more damage. This isn’t cool.”
Minho’s vision is blurry with tears, and he tries, but there’s no way to will them down any more. When he opens his mouth to speak, a pathetic sob tumbles out.
“What is it about Han Jisung that has you all so fucking infatuated?” he chokes out, venom spilling out between the tears that are now running down his cheeks freely, “why is everyone on his fucking side?”
“Huh?! Nobody is on anyone’s side, there are no si–“
“Yes, there are!” Minho screams, sits up enough so he can jab a finger in Changbin’s direction. “Ever since he arrived, he’s been turning everyone against me. Prissy little pretty boy waltzes in and I question his motivations, and you all make me out to be the bad guy? When all I wanted was to keep you safe, keep us safe, like I have done for years. Does that mean nothing to you? Do you know what I’ve given for this crew?”
“Minho, …” Changbin mutters, and Minho thinks he can see a flicker of uncertainty in Changbin’s eyes. It adds fuel to the fire burning him from the inside out.
“It’s good to know what you all fucking think of me. Go canoodle with your new boytoy. I hope he’s as good with a knife as I am because next time one of you gets jumped you better not count on me any more …”
Minho knows it’s extreme, knows deep in his heart that he would never abandon them. But he’s tired. He’s so hurt, his heart feels like it’s bleeding.
“Minho, …” Changbin says again, and it’s even softer this time. “We don’t … we don’t want to choose sides. We don’t hate you. You’re … Minho, our Minho. Yes, you made a wrong call the other day, but we all know why you did it. We never held it against you. We just don’t understand why you hate him so much. He’s a good guy. Actually, I think you two would get along really well, if you just gave it a chance.”
Minho tries to scoff, but it comes out as more of a hiccup. He refuses to look at Changbin, just shakes his head at the floor.
“Well, I’m glad he’s a good guy, hope that works out for you,” he spits, bitterness laced in his voice.
“How is that what you took from what I just said?” Changbin asks, but then gives up. The fact that he does is a dull pang in Minho’s heart. “Fine, we won’t talk about him now. I just need you to know that you’re loved. By us. By all of us. Do you understand?”
Minho hears the allusion to her, but he knows that Changbin’s wrong. Because she doesn’t love him. Not like he loves her. Suddenly, he’s bone tired, his whole body aches with it as he turns away.
“Get some sleep, Min. And tomorrow, you’ll apologise and Felix will apologise and all will be well again.”
There’s silence, like Changbin is waiting to see if Minho will find anything else to say, but he doesn’t. He sniffles into the silence, his body aching with a pain so deep he doesn’t know what to do with it. Before he can even look up, door closes softly and Minho crumbles.
When the captain knocks later that night, calls his name, her voice a soft balm that he wishes he could let soothe him to sleep, he’s still sitting on the floor next to his bed, his limbs shivering with the ache in his chest where his heart should be. He doesn’t respond, lets her think he’s asleep. She leaves after a few minutes and Minho hates himself.
Jisung had never seen Felix angry before and god, he hadn’t thought it could be this bad, not with Felix’s usual soft, sunny demeanour. But no. It was terrifying. His sugary sweet smiles replaced by withering scowls, all turned inwards, muttering curses under his breath.
Jisung had come to dinner and found Felix like that, refusing to speak more than a few words, staring at his plate stony. Jisung was just about to succeed in wordlessly staring at Seungmin for long enough to get him to ask Felix what had happened, when the doors opened and Changbin made his way to their table. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry, and it made Jisung even more worried.
“Did you throw him overboard?” Felix asked, bitterness laced in his voice. Changbin gave him a pointed look and shook his head. Felix scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Too bad.”
Changbin, faced with everyone else’s puzzled eyes boring into him, heaved out a sigh.
“Felix and Minho had … a fight,” he explained, but Felix almost immediately cut him off.
“We didn’t have a fight, Lee Minho barged into my kitchen and picked a fight, there’s very distinct difference,” he spat, but Changbin seemed to have had enough. He slammed a fist onto the table. Felix’ eyes went wide.
“He may have picked the fight, but you also said some more than nasty things, Felix,” he rebuked Felix, a whose face turned an angry red. “And now we are going to stop talking about this, before more people get hurt, got it?”
Felix gave him a nasty glare through the burning of his cheeks but didn’t fight Changbin, only picked up his still mostly full plate and disappeared into the kitchen. Jisung met Hyunjin’s eyes, but even he just shrugged, and Jisung did his best to drop it. Later, he quietly helped Felix do the dishes, ignoring the questions and worry burning on his tongue. Then he quietly followed Felix into their cabin, quietly undressed and got ready for bed, peeking out from behind his book as Felix climbed into his bed and murmured a good night.
But now it’s the morning and whatever Minho had done to upset Felix must’ve cut deep because when Jisung arrives at breakfast, Felix is glaring at the slice of bread on his plate and barely speaks, slamming the kitchen doors closed behind himself when he’s done.
So when Jisung is in the bath later that morning and Minho walks in? The tension in his body pulls tight, and he can feel the confrontation coming from a mile away.
Jisung had chosen the middle one of the three bathtubs in the bathroom today, had washed almost half a bar of the pine scented soap into the water before he sunk into it, his back to the door, letting the hot water soothe the strain right out of his muscles. He doesn’t open his eyes when he hears the door open and shut behind him. It was morning, after all, not unusual for the rest of the crew to start washing up. Though when the seconds tick by and there’s no other movement, Jisung starts wondering.
When he turns around, he makes eye contact with Minho, and Jisung’s body tenses up all over again.
He didn’t like being in the same room as Minho on any given day, but being here, in this small room, alone – it was more than uncomfortable. But true to his resolution, Jisung refused to budge, staring back at Minho defiantly, daring him to do something. After a few more seconds, Minho seems to make up his mind, his face hardening as he walks to the low bench and kicks off his boots.
Jisung frowns and settles back into the warmth of the water, sinking in until he can feel it tickle his earlobes. He forces his eyes to shut, but it’s hard when he can hear Minho move around the room, lighting the logs, passing by right behind Jisung to pick up a bar of soap, pouring water from the heater into the tub until he deems it full enough.
Jisung’s pretty sure Minho wouldn’t drown him in the public bathroom, but he can’t help but crack a careful eye open. Minho is facing away from him, testing the water with the tips of his fingers. Jisung is just about to close his eyes again before Minho can catch him, when Minho pulls his shirt over his head and Jisung’s eyes fly wide open.
His back is broad, milky skin pulled taut over planes of muscle that shift as his hands work the strings of his pants. With a shudder he notices the faded red tracks of nails running down from his shoulder blades, between the myriad of small, lighter scars dotted over his skin, and his whole face flushes when Minho shoves down his pants and the red marks trail down over his ass, round, perfect, flexing and jiggling a little as he moves in a way that has Jisung’s brain short-circuit a little bit, and then Minho turns around and …
Oh.
Oh, wow.
Minho’s hung. Even flaccid, his cock hangs hard and heavy and thick between his thick, muscled thighs, and Jisung blinks at it entirely stupidly for entirely too long before he forces his eyes up, past Minho’s abs and chiseled chest and dusty nipples (and a collection of love bites around his collarbones that make Jisung feel lightheaded) until his eyes meet Minho’s, who’s staring straight back at him with a condescending, shit-eating grin. There’s a darkness in his eyes that makes Jisung slightly uneasy, and he flinches, embarrassment flushing his face. But he sets his jaw, pretends he doesn’t care, glares at Minho, dares him to say something, but Minho just quirks an eyebrow and kicks his pants off the rest of the way and gets into the tub – facing him? Jisung blinks stupidly. Why the fuck is he facing him?!
Dumbfounded, Jisung tries not to, but he still watches every movement as Minho throws his leg over the side and gets into the tub, sinking into the hot water with a happy sigh that shoots straight between Jisung’s legs and makes his traitorous cock twitch slightly.
Jisung gives Minho one last dirty look before he leans back, closes his eyes again, does his best to look calm and collected as he spends the next five minutes trying to talk down the semi he’s sporting just from looking at Minho. Stupid fucking Minho. Why did he have to be hot?! Though he supposes if the captain was sleeping with anyone, she would be …
The nail marks, the love bites. It confirms it, doesn’t it, Jisung thinks, and there’s an ugly stab of jealousy in his heart. Well, technically, they could be from anyone, but with everything he’s heard … Jisung has to suppress a shudder when his brain conjures up the image of her sinfully beautiful body under Minho, her heat, her soft, plush lips, object of his own wet dreams, wrapping tightly around Minho, fingers digging into his skin as he fucks her deep and hard with those thick thighs and that giant fucking cock of his that would probably feel so good against his prostate …
His traitorous cock responds happily, chubbing up even more, and Jisung huffs out in annoyance.
“Wow, you’re so annoying you’re annoying yourself? Go figure,” Minho ribs from the other tub. Jisung’s eyes fly open. Minho is lying back, annoyingly muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, an annoying smirk on his lips.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Jisung just grumbles out. He closes his eyes, leans back again, affecting an indifference as if his cock isn’t half hard and Felix’ anger isn’t bubbling through his veins.
“What? I’m not the one huffing and puffing at my own thoughts,” Minho says casually and Jisung snaps. He knows this will not end before he even finishes his first sentence.
“What is your problem, actually?!” he hisses, props his arms on the side of the tub and pulls himself up to a relaxed seat. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me, too, like you did with Felix last night?”
Minho’s eyes shoot open at that, and Jisung notes with satisfaction that his confidence wavers for a split second. But before he knows it, Minho’s eyes narrow again, and he leans back, pretending to get comfortable against the wooden wall of the tub.
“Jesus, it’s worse than I thought,” Minho says, “you’re like his little lapdog. Yap yapping away. All bark, no bite.”
Oh, this asshole.
“No bite, huh?” Jisung spits, sits up so fast the water laps against the side of the tub dangerously. At least it gets Minho to finally open his eyes properly. “The bruise on your jaw you carried around with you for two weeks told a different story.”
Minho huffs out a laugh.
“Nothing more than a pin prick. I’ve been stabbed, kid, your little fist hardly did any damage.”
“Well, that’s great to know, then next time I won’t hold back when you pick a fight with my friend.”
Minho raises an eyebrow at Jisung, fixing him with his dark eyes, and it’s a little intimidating, to have Minho’s whole attention like this. But
Jisung stubbornly refuses to waver.
“Your friend?”
Jisung falters, and Minho catches it immediately, digs his finger deeper into his weak spot.
“You’ve hardly been here for three months, you don’t know what friendship means on this ship, princess.”
Jisung is half out of the water before the hated nickname is even fully past Minho’s lips. A wave of water splashes onto the floor and Minho’s eyes seem to dip down to his newly exposed stomach, the dip of his waist, for just a split second. At least Jisung’s not hard any more.
“Fucking stop calling me that,” Jisung hisses. Minho raises both his eyebrows.
“Why? I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
“You know full fucking well, why,” Jisung replies, his fingers digging into the side of the tub almost painfully, “you heard that fucker call me that the day you tried to get me killed, and you still decide to say it. You really are just a bad fucking person.”
Minho blinks at him, his face an unreadable mask. Without another word, he sits up, supports both his hands on the side of the tub and heaves himself out of the water. Jisung is speechless. Is he just going to walk away? He watches Minho towel his hair and scoffs out a disbelieving laugh. There’s no humour in it.
“What? Nothing?”
“I didn’t fucking try to get you killed,” Minho says, quietly, harshly.
Jisung shakes his head, heaves himself out of the tub as well, grabs his towel to wrap around his waist.
“Sure you didn’t,” he scoffs and Minho whips around, stares him down.
“All I do, everything I do, is to protect this ship, the captain, and the crew, okay? I didn’t know if I could trust you, so I kept you somewhere I could keep an eye on you. I was not going to let anything happen to you.”
Minho turns from him again, bending down to pick up his pants. Aggressively, he pulls them over his still damp legs. Jisung’s trembling with rage now, his fist balled at his side.
“Why would I believe you? You let that fucker punch me, you let him touch me.”
Jisung watches as Minho’s movements falter, watches his fingers tremble as he does up his pants. What does he have to be upset about? Jisung takes the moment to grab his own shirt, shrugging it over his shoulders, though it does little to quell the trembling of his body. He feels nauseous. The moist heat of the room makes him dizzy.
“Well, if you would stop fucking flinching away from me like I’m dangerous …” Minho starts, but his sentence trails off. Jisung scoffs in disbelief. He feels poisoned. Poisonous.
“You know, the captain always tells me that everyone on this ship is family, that you … we keep each other safe. Everyone keeps saying that you keep them safe. But I don’t feel safe.”
The sentence tumbles into the silence of the room, and Minho freezes. He looks like he’s been slapped. But Jisung isn’t done yet, the heaviness in his chest finally abating a little bit with every word of this he finally gets off his chest.
“I know you didn’t like me when I arrived. And that’s fine. But ever since then, you’ve shut down every single attempt of mine to bridge the gap between us. And then you tried to kill me …”
“I didn’t …” Minho whispers, but Jisung interrupts him, roughly.
“… you torment me by calling me what he called me, you leave every room I enter, refuse to even fucking look at me.”
Jisung would laugh at the fact that Minho even refuses to look at him now, only blinks at the floor, but there is no humour in this situation at all. Jisung feels broken open, red, and raw, in front of the guy who’s been making his life a living hell. Suddenly, Minho turns, grabs his shirt and pushes past Jisung. He shoves his feet into his boots and Jisung angrily realises that he just plans on leaving.
“Say something, you coward,” he curses, and Minho finally looks up at him. He looks devastated.
“I didn’t try to kill you, I … I didn’t realise that’s what that fucker called you … after my … after Felix … I … fuck, I_gut_ people like that, I cut them limb from limb, I would never … fuck,” he curses and rips open the door, makes down the hallway without even bothering to put his shirt on. Jisung follows him before he can think better of it.
He catches up with Minho only a few feet down the hallway, pulls him back by his arm and pushes him into the wall, hard.
“No, you don’t run away from this,” he spits and stares up at Minho, who’s unfortunately still a few inches taller than him. “Why do you hate me so much?”
Minho blinks at him, his lips slightly parted in surprise, bunny teeth peeking out from underneath his top lip in a way that makes him altogether less intimidating and then clamps his lips shut, furrows his eyebrows, stares at Jisung with a frustrated desperation in his eyes.
“I don’t fucking hate you!” he hisses out, “You’re one of us now, and I would give my life for you just like I would for every other person on this ship, but you hate me because you’re scared of me and I can’t even blame you because everything I do somehow … ends up wrong with you.”
Now it’s Jisung’s turn to stare blankly and Minho shoves him back until Jisung’s back hits the wall. Except this time, it doesn’t feel threatening, not when there are tears of frustration glistening in Minho’s eyes. He lifts his hand, jabs his index finger into Jisung’s chest, his erratic breath fanning over Jisung’s face and Jisung’s heart rabbits in his chest. A drop of water drips from Minho’s raven locks, runs down his neck, pools in the dip of his collarbone.
“I don’t know what it is about you, but you drive me fucking crazy,” Minho breathes out and Jisung’s body moves before he can even realise what he’s doing.
Both of his hands wrap around the back of Minho’s neck, and he pulls him down, straight into his own parted lips. Minho makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, but Jisung doesn’t let up, digs his fingernails into the skin of Minho’s neck, presses his lips against Minho’s harder. When his brain catches up to his body, he tries to pull away, but Minho doesn’t let him, pushes closer, crowds him against the wall, trapping Jisung’s body between his strong arms and slipping his tongue into Jisung’s mouth. Molten hot need bubbles in Jisung’s gut and he moans pathetically. One of his hands skates down Minho’s chest, smoothes over his hot skin, thumb catching on Minho’s nipple and Minho hisses into his mouth. But it seems to shock Minho out of whatever it is they’re doing because suddenly, he pulls back, stumbles back a few steps and stares at Jisung with wide eyes.
Where Jisung is flushed and embarrassingly hard underneath the towel around his waist, Minho is deathly pale, and he doesn’t look okay at all. Jisung’s stomach drops.
“Minho?” he whispers, as gentle as he can.
Minho blinks rapidly, shakes his head, takes a few shaky steps backwards, before he turns and flees, runs up the stairs.
Hurried footsteps sound behind you as you push open the door to your office. You whirl around and come face to face with a flushed, wide-eyed Chan.
“Jesus, is everything okay?” you ask, your heart in your throat at how panicked Chan looks.
“Captain, I …” he starts, before he turns around, checking if there’s anyone behind him, “you have to promise me you won’t be angry with me for telling you this, but I can’t not tell you. Like, you’re our captain, you have the right to know, even though he will kill me for this.”
There’s a blind panic running through your veins as you stare at Chan.
“Chan, if you don’t tell me right now…”
“I saw Minho and Jisung kiss. Downstairs. Outside of the baths."
< chapter IV - chapter VI >
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I was in actually tears by the end of this and needed to get to the next chapter so fast I forgot to write my thoughts on this last bit and to paste my notes😭✋🏼
I'm so hurt. I'm so very hurt.
He's looking at him with a barely contained scowl
Oh he's hurting. He's hurting. It's painful😭
Like he didn't ever need Minho, quite the opposite.
Oh? [I giggled] okay Minho, I get it.
Felix, who for this reason, never had a cabin mate ─ until Jisung
Oh my god...Felix...and he- so he- 😭😭😭 I'm gonna cry wtf not again😭
Jisung and Felix are inseparable
My Jilix😭😭😭 I doubt you knew how much those 2 together mean to me but God oh god May they mean so much to me😭😭😭 Felix feeling letting Jisung be his bunk mate because he could probably tell 😭😭😭 sobbing, bawling, heaving-
He’d take that over having to watch his mere presence drain all happiness from Han Jisung’s eyes for the second time in half an hour.
Oh🥺 Poor Minnie is so sad Jisung seems to kinda probably hate him rn😭 oh no I'm even more sad💔💔💔
" Well does she want him, too?" - "We should've fucking left you there."
No no no no no you two don't mean that. You don't mean that you don't mean that you don't mean that- May I'm crying like actually fucking crying. Minho's hurt was already so bad but then him taking it out on Felix was worse and Felix is probably so tired of Minho acting the way he does. It's reached its boiling point and and and now- no like, this can't be happening. 😭😭😭😭
He's so hurt, his heart feels like it's bleeding.
Fuck... I... I'm having war flashback to that one fic I read that absolutely broke me. That pain is coming back and idk if I hate it or not because this is just to good. You're just to good. I can't even😭 I needed a quick breather holy fuck
Because she doesn't love him. Not like he loves her.
God no Minho she does! She does she does she does!!!! It's the damn kraken, the metaphorical kraken that's had control over her emotions since she was a fucking child😭 it's the trauma Minho it's the trauma!!! Please!!! And it's the same for you too god all these traumatized young adults with hot tempters I'm HEARTBROKEN😭😭😭
Oh. Oh wow. Minho's hung.
JISUNG PLEASE😭😭😭 NOW'S NOT THE FUCKING TIME!!! I HAVE TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE, MY NOSE IS SNOTTY, MY BODY IS SHAKING AND YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT HOW HUNG MINHO IS???? WHAT THE FUCK😭😭😭😭
Who's staring back at him with a condescending, shit-eating grin
NOOOOOOO😭😭😭 OMG STOP IT YOU TWO!!! I'M AN UNGLY CRY MESS RN AND Y'ALL ARE CHECKING EACH OTHER OUT I'M SO DONE😭😭😭
I can't FUCKING even with the ending😭😭😭 I was a fucking mess and I still am one
summary: will the code be cracked? will the captain, jisung, and minho finally crack, too?
word count: 7.7k
warnings: mentions of parent death; mentions of murder; ptsd flashback? very mild, tough; probably ooc ryunjin and yeji cameos; drinking
author's note: wheeee this one has lotsa plot (something still so new for me and this chapter felt like a huge turning point in my writing but I hope you like itttt) but also some other developments 👀 and some more minho backstory. enjoy!!!!!! ily all!!
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
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< chapter VI - chapter VIII >
Minho thinks he can smell the stink of Nassau as soon as the ship rounds the sandbanks and palm trees of Hogg Island and enters the channel. It’s unlikely, he knows, but something about the familiar view of the tree-strewn main island, the church bells ringing across the water, of the squat houses along the coast, the call of the herring gulls overhead.
He forces himself to stand on the quarterdeck next to the captain, behind Seungmin, who navigates past the sandbank and into the wide harbour. When they get closer, Jeongin pokes his head out from the lookout.
“They are signalling for us to anchor at the quay!” he yells, surprise evident in his voice.
Hyunjin scoffs further down the deck, leans against the railing next to Chan.
“They know we’re about to make their traders half a year’s worth of money.”
The captain shrugs, a small, but pleased smile on her lips.
“Dock at the quay then, Seungmin,” she orders, and Seungmin nods.
Twenty minutes later, Minho’s boot hits the slippery wood of the Nassau quay – and now he’s really smelling it, the distinct mix of brackish water and heat-spoiled rum. A laughing gull starts its maniacal cackle on a pole sticking out of the water right next to him and suddenly, it’s 16 years earlier.
12-year-old Minho, tears running down his cheeks, mixing with the rainwater that was slowly, ruthlessly soaking him to the bone as he heaved shovelfuls and shovelfuls of wet, heavy mud out of the cemetery plot he had begged the vicar to let him have. He didn’t even have a headstone, only a cross he had nailed together out of one of their chairs and carved her name into, but he wanted her to have this. A resting place to call her own. The vicar had had pity on him, and had probably seen her at his services often enough. That, or he knew that Minho didn’t have anyone else to ask money from. He was alone in the world now.
Another shovelful hits the grass next to the hole he’s digging, and he sobs, his lithe arms shaking and his heart a dead thing in his chest, his mother’s voice still in his ears, telling him that he will be okay, that he can do anything he sets his mind to. That he’s her son, and that that alone means he will survive anything.
She didn’t, though. She was dead. He had found her, in her room. And now he was burying her. Or trying to.
He hears the laughing gull when the shovel slips out of his hands the first time. Intoning its mocking laughter, as the mud cakes into Minho’s wounds, stings so bad it drives more tears from his eyes. Only a few more feet to go, he tells himself; tells himself his mother is watching, has her warm, soft hand on his shoulder as he digs. He owes her this. The cold, gold cross is stuck to his chest. The laughing gull cackles. He picks up the shovel again.
“Minho?”
Hyunjin’s hand finds his shoulder and squeezes. His voice cuts through the fog in Minho’s head and suddenly the air is warm, the sun is burning down on him, his mother has been dead and buried for 16 years and he survived.
“Hmm?” is the only answer he can muster, along with a grimace of a smile. Judging by the look on Hyunjin’s face, he is not fooling anyone.
“Take a deep breath for me?” Hyunjin suggests softly and Minho does, focuses on the sun, the sound of the water lapping against the ship, on Hyunjin behind him and takes a shaky breath in and out.
Hyunjin massages his shoulders gently, hums encouragingly.
“There you go,” he mumbles, rounding Minho so he can look at him. His eyes are big and full of worry. “Better?”
Minho blinks at him, nods, something tiny and needy raising its head in his heart; he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed his friends these last few months.
“Thanks,” he breathes out, but Hyunjin just smiles, shakes his head.
Minho returns his smile, and it’s shaky, but apparently more convincing because Hyunjin pats his shoulder one more time before he steps back.
“Will you be okay? I need to go see about rations, but do you want me to get Changbin?”
Minho shakes his head.
“’Captain and I are about to go see the code person now.”
Hyunjin nods, gives Minho’s shoulder one more solid squeeze before he turns and walks off and into town. The laughing gull has long since flown off, only the herring gulls crying above him as he waits.
But when the captain climbs down from the ship, any and all warmth Hyunjin left behind vanishes. Because Jisung is right behind her.
Minho’s shoulders tense almost immediately. Jisung fixes him with a shy look that is entirely too infuriating for Minho to handle. The gall, to act innocent …
“Minho, you ready?” the captain asks, quirking her eyebrow and giving him a glare that Minho doesn’t need so much as a second thought to interpret as be nice or else. He can be nice, he thinks. Though it seems that’s more Jisung’s forte. Being overly nice and worming his way into business that isn’t his.
His nod to the captain is terse, but she accepts it, motions for them to follow her down the quay and into the small town. He doesn’t spare Jisung another glance, his eyes stubbornly ahead or on the captain as she takes them down a lane to the right that leads straight out of the small town.
Minho doesn’t look left when they pass the street he knows leads to the old church with the little churchyard that he hasn’t been to in 16 years, though its presence burns a hole into his heart. Only when they’re almost all the way out of town does he realise his fists are clenched.
They walk in complete silence for a while, Minho’s scowl enough to intimidate Jisung and make the captain not want to deal with him. He doesn’t fight it. They walk and Minho notices, with considerable relief, how the stench of Nassau fades as they walk down the long dirt road. It’s almost serene out here, with the sea glimmering on one side, huts scattered along the road on the other, closely bordered by thick woodland. There are more birds out here, apart from gulls. A swallow flits from tree to another with a vibrant twitter, a heron stalks through the marshy water of a little inlet.
When they’ve gone a decent way out of town, the captain finally comes to a halt in front of one of the scattered huts. It’s a relatively large one, two-stories of wood with the paint chipping off, surrounded by an overgrown garden and bordered by a rotting, hand-built fence that looks like it’s seen better days. There are countless pots of all shapes and sizes lined up along the side of the house, bushels of herbs and other exotic plants Minho doesn’t recognise thriving towards the sun. The whole garden is unkempt, the native plants, taking advantage of their native soil, battling some more exotic plants that have clearly been planted with purpose. Nobody seems to bother to mediate this fight. Despite the heat of the day, there’s smoke billowing out of the chimney.
“Let’s hope they can help us,” the captain murmurs, and pushes open the rickety gate. Minho follows her first, leaving Jisung behind him, following right behind her as she walks up to the front door of the hut and knocks confidently.
There’s a commotion from the inside, and the door opens just a crack before it’s ripped open entirely. All Minho sees is a flurry of wispy black hair before two arms with countless golden bangles and bracelets wrap around the captain’s shoulders with a deafening jingle, pulling her into a crushing hug that almost sweeps her off her feet. The captain breathes out a yelp and a giggle, bubbly and light and entirely unfamiliar.
The blur of wispy hair and golden bangles pulls back, and Minho sees it’s a young woman, around the captain’s age, with a boyish face, sparkly eyes and a gigantic, warm smile on her face. She takes the captain by the shoulders and shakes her gently.
“You haven’t come to visit in three years, Y/Nie!” she exclaims, but it’s clear she’s just teasing. There’s no hiding the excitement in her voice.
The captain giggles again, and Minho swears it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.
“I’m sorry, Ryu,” she says, squeezes the other woman’s arms back, “I’m a little busy these days.”
“Of course, captain,” the woman laughs, and winks. Then her gaze finally sweeps past her old friend and lands on Minho and Jisung, her face falling, an unfocused confusion in her eyes as she looks between them, and then the captain a few times. There’s something penetrating in her gaze, like she’s seeing much more than he wants her to, and it unsettles him, makes anxiety prickle all over his body. Ryujin blinks at the captain, and the captain laughs nervously.
“Sorry, how rude of me. This is Minho, my second-in-command, and this is Jisung, he just joined us recently.”
Minho bows tensely, trying not to squirm away from the strange woman’s stare. Jisung next to him is a fidgeting mess, blushing as he bows. The captain turns to them.
“And this, this is Ryujin. She’s one of my oldest friends, along with … is Yeji here? We kinda need her help.”
Ryujin nods, and turns around, waving for the three of them to follow her.
As soon as Minho steps over the threshold, it’s like he steps into a furnace. There’s a fire burning in the fireplace, something bitter and herbal smelling brewing in a pot, and it fills the entire room with an excruciatingly moist heat and an overwhelming aroma. Sweat starts beading on his forehead almost immediately. Next to him, Jisung stumbles over a stack of books and Minho glares at him. Jisung blushes.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and Minho rolls his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you so nervous?”
Jisung shrugs, his bottom lip jutting out.
“I dunno, I just … I get nervous around new people, okay?”
Minho rolls his eyes again, but he feels a flicker of warmth deep in his chest as he watches Jisung, his eyes big and sparkling in the low light of the fireplace, ringed fingers twisting around each other. He smothers the flicker brutally.
“Baby, is that really Y/Nie or am I hearing things,” a female voice calls from upstairs and as soon as Ryujin calls up an affirmative, a woman with cat-like features and fire-red hair comes barreling down the stairs, squealing as she runs towards the captain, who catches her effortlessly, twirls her around.
“I can’t believe it took you so long to come visit,” the woman, Yeji, Minho assumes, breathes into the captain’s hair before she pulls back, holding her at arm’s length so she can look her over. Then she gives the captain a playful glare.
“I wrote?” The captain offers, sheepishly, and Yeji rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips.
“Don’t even believe for a second that we didn’t hear about it every time you were in Nassau and didn’t make your way out here.”
The captain’s face falls, an unfamiliar shadow of uncertainty and embarrassment in her eyes. In another world, Minho has the ability to reach out, wipe the sadness from her beautiful face. In this one, he just watches, his face schooled into a cool neutrality. Jisung next to him fidgets with a ring.
“I … I couldn’t …” she starts, but trails off, dropping her gaze to the floor, “I never had the time, either we didn’t stay long enough or I couldn’t get away from the ship. I promise, I …”
Yeji shuts her up by pulling her into another hug.
“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you. All that matters is that you’re here now. Why don’t we take a look at whatever that is in your bag. But before that …”
She turns to Minho and Jisung, sending them a bright smile. Minho likes her better, she doesn’t give him the creeps.
“My name’s Yeji, I’m Ryujin’s wife. Half of our love story wouldn’t have been possible without Y/N actually, so we’re always happy to see her.
“Hardly,” the captain interjects, “you only talked a stranger’s ear off about this really cute clairvoyant girl you wanted to go see until said stranger took pity on you and went with you.”
Clairvoyant? That would explain why she’s so creepy.
Yeji sticks her tongue at the captain. Minho tries to imagine a younger captain, her expression less schooled, her gait less confident, her hair maybe longer, her eyes brighter, in a bar, all by herself. He wonders if he would remember if he met her then. Wonders if he would’ve had the courage to go up to her, to strike up a conversation. Wonders if they would’ve even gotten along. His heart wants to say yes.
“Well, if you hadn’t been there that night, I would’ve never gotten the courage to go see her. And then we wouldn’t have exchanged names, and we wouldn’t be here today. But enough about us,” she laughs, and turns back to the two men, “you are?”
Minho bows, tries to smile at Yeji, but it’s hard. He’s not good at this.
“Lee Minho, the captain’s second-in-command.”
Yeji greets him, a gentle smile on her lips, before she turns to Jisung. Jisung’s face is flushed, whether because of the frankly ridiculous heat in the room or because he’s still nervous, Minho doesn’t know. He bows, too, but when he rises, he sends Yeji such a disarming, crooked smile that Minho gets annoyed. Of course, he would make a better first impression.
“H- Jisung, my name’s Jisung, I joined the captain’s crew recently.”
Ryujin suddenly gasps.
“Oh, that’s interesting!”
Minho can’t help the scowl on his face when he looks over at her.
Yeji turns around, but the captain intercepts the situation.
“Jisung is Han Yujun’s nephew. We found him on one of his uncle’s ships, and he wanted to join us.”
Yeji’s eyes narrow. She lets her eyes drag up and down Jisung’s form.
Jisung straightens up, his nervous hands twisting together in front of him. One of his knuckles cracks and Minho wants to reach out, still those cursed, restless hands. Jisung wearing his heart on his sleeve drives him fucking crazy. It would get him killed one day.
“They saved me, really,” Jisung offers with a much weaker smile now, “my uncle has always hated me, tried to get me killed on foolhardy missions. And I hate him, for what he did to me, for what he does to everyone else under his governance. I want him gone.”
Yeji throws a glance at Ryujin, waits until the latter has stared at Jisung for another few seconds and gives some kind of nod of approval. Once she does, Yeji relaxes.
“Well, an enemy of Han Yujun’s, whatever shape he may take, is a friend of ours. Welcome, you two.”
“That’s actually what we need your help with, Yeji,” the captain begins. Carefully, she pulls the two maps from her satchel, walks over to the table in the middle of what most likely is meant to be the dining room, but is really only another densely packed living room, and unrolls them.
“These are maps we intercepted on Han Yujun’s ships. One on the one Jisung was on, another on one that attacked us a few weeks later. At first, we thought they were maps, but geographically, they make … no sense. So we figured, they’re …”
“A code,” Yeji breathes out, her eyes fixed on the maps as if she’s magnetised to them. She takes them from the captain’s hands, and arranges them on the table, pulling a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer.
“Exactly,” the captain breathes out. She watches Yeji carefully, throws a glance to Ryujin, whose eyes are impassive, “and with how intricate the maps are, how carefully drawn, the fact that the edges are gilded – it all speaks to the fact that Han Yujun was trying to impress someone.”
Yeji runs a finger over the tangled up shapes around the edge of the map, scribbles something down.
“If you can even just help us find out who that is, we would already get us further than we have in years. But if we can find out what these messages say, there’s no telling what we might be able to do.”
Minho can hear it, the tremor in the captain’s voice. Ever since he can remember, all the petty criminals they fought, the crews of wayward pirates who went against the code, who violated everything humanity stood for, the end goal had always been Han Yujun, the man who had ruined more lives than they could count.
“Gilded edges,” Ryujin mumbles, and shakes her head.
Jisung steps up to the table, though he still looks nervous, half his body hiding behind the captain’s.
“My uncle always tried to impress the other governors of these islands,” Jisung says, a hand running through his shaggy hair restlessly. When the captain turns to him, his ears tint pink, “throwing lavish dinners he couldn’t afford, forcing himself into jewelled waistcoats that he barely managed to button up. It was pitiful, most of the other governors hated his guts.”
Ryujin frowns, but chuckles drily.
“Not like they’re any better.”
Jisung shrugs.
“Some of them were better than others, but none of them were worse than my uncle. Most of them caught onto him pretty fast, only visited once, twice at most, before it dawned on them what a piece of shit he was. Avoided him like the plague afterwards, …”
Ryujin hums. There’s a faraway look in Jisung’s eyes, and he buries his fists in his pockets. The captain slides a comforting arm around Jisung’s shoulders, gives him a little squeeze. Jisung leans into the touch, gives her a shy smile, bats his eyelashes at her. Minho wants to shove Han Jisung into the ocean.
“Well, sounds like we’d be doing more people a favour by putting your uncle behind bars,” the captain jokes and Jisung laughs. There’s a familiarity between them that makes Minho’s stomach churn.
“You’d be doing everyone a favour,” Jisung sighs, and rolls his eyes, his head tipping in her direction just enough that he can blink at her cheekily, making the captain breathe out a light little laugh that Jisung drinks in greedily.
Scratch that. Minho wants to drown Han Jisung with his bare fucking hands.
But he stays where he is, aching, wanting to be anywhere but here and yet nowhere else but by her side. Nausea rises in his throat. If only it wasn’t so fucking hot in this room, he thinks, as a bead of sweat drips down his neck.
Yeji is still scowling at the paper, scribbling furiously, and Ryujin sighs.
“She’ll be busy with that for a while, why don’t you help me make some tea, Y/N?”
The captain nods, throws Minho a glance that he hopes he returns with some semblance of normalcy, though there’s no telling any more, and follows Ryujin into another room.
“I’ll wait outside,” Minho announces into the silence as soon as she’s gone. His voice sounds odd and out of place in the room, and he turns around before he is forced to reckon with an answer.
Minho knows that the air outside is technically hot, humid, and hot, but compared to the sweltering heat of the little hut, the breeze blowing over his sweaty neck actually makes him shiver. Letting his eyes rove over the small garden, he spots a small metal bench, tucked into a little spot against a hedge that borders the rickety fence. He takes a few steps towards it, eyes it carefully to make sure it can actually hold him. But it looks sturdy enough. He sinks down, and he lets his head fall into his hands. He takes a deep breath. It comes out shaky.
He hates being back here. He fucking hates Nassau with all his heart. For everything it did to him, everything it took from him. He hates even more who he becomes when he’s here, all jittery and quick to anger, his heart like an open wound in his chest. He feels strung out, bared to the elements, to anyone who looks to close. He doesn’t want them to, doesn’t know what he’ll do if they do.
His mother never liked it either. She would tell him all about it, all those nights they spent huddled together on the dilapidated porch of their home – tell him how any day now she would finally have enough money to hitch them a ride on a ship to go … somewhere else. She always said it was going to be a surprise, but adult Minho knows better – she never had a plan, her only urge was to just get as far away from Nassau as possible.
Away from her history, away from the little churchyard where her parents lay buried, and where she would be buried not long after, away from the creditors, away from the pimp who, as Minho found out many years later, blackmailed her into staying with him by threatening to expose who Minho’s father was.
Minho took care of them all, one by one, over the years. Found the men who had driven his mother onto the path that would eventually lead to her death. He made sure they knew why he was killing them before he did. He made it painful, he made it cruel. Wiped out their confidants, their secretaries, anyone who could take up their mantle.
In retrospect, he knows that something wasn’t right with him back then. But when it was done, when every last one of them was taken care of and Minho finally knew he did all he could, he felt free. Black and dead, but free. And still so lonely it took his breath away sometimes.
He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars, feels pinpricks of pain in his eyeballs. He hears the door of the hut open, the thud of boots coming down the path, then stop. When he looks up, he makes eye contact with Han Jisung. Minho sighs.
“There’s really no escaping you, huh,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Jisung, but he can’t help but notice how Jisung’s face falls, before he sets his eyebrows, tosses his head and walks over to Minho.
Minho watches him calmly as he approaches and sits down next to him, the little metal bench squeaking under the extra weight.
Somewhere in the distance, a gull cackles. Minho’s knuckle cracks where he squeezes his hand into a fist.
“I mean … It was really awkward in there, yes, but I actually, …” Jisung starts, stares at Minho before he blinks, and averts his eyes, gaze falling to his hands that are folded in his lap. He starts fiddling with his rings again. Minho squeezes his fist tighter. His knuckles crack again.
“I actually wanted to apologise,” Jisung finally says, and Minho’s thoughts grind to a screeching halt. He blinks at Jisung, who’s still not looking at him.
“I wanted to apologise for … for kissing you.”
The last words come out in barely more than a whisper. He chuckles awkwardly. He twists one ring so hard is hand slips.
“I mean, if I’m honest, it kinda rocked my world, but I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have just … done that. Not after saying what I did. Which I’m also sorry for, by the way. I was talking to Chan, and … let’s just say I know now that you wouldn’t have called me by my abuser’s nickname if you’d known. Not you.”
Minho’s still frozen in place, his heart thundering in his chest. He wants to say many things. Wants to ask what on earth he meant when he said it rocked his world. Wants to ask what Chan told him, why they were talking about him. In the end, he settles for none of that.
“I’m not the most observant,” he mumbles and Jisung chuckles. It’s a light little thing, as light as the breeze that makes more goosebumps shiver down Minho’s spine.
“I mean, you are,” Jisung hums, looks up at Minho and smiles. Minho barely dares to breathe. “It just depends on who you’re watching. I know one person you look at more than anyone else.”
Something painful curls in Minho’s guts. The memory of Jisung’s skin, of his lips, of how he had run back to her, thrown himself into her body, trying to make it up to her, trying to forget the guilt – but most of all trying to forget the fact that there was no reason to feel guilty because she wasn’t his, he wasn’t hers, she, for all he knew, could’ve done lord knows what with lord knows who, and he may have never known. Even when he couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t see any point in anyone else as long as she …
Minho doesn’t answer Jisung. Just averts his gaze, stares across the garden at a tall Jasmine bush, focuses on the little white flowers, the scent of them in the air. Jisung next to him is quiet, too. Less fidgety, though Minho knows he probably wants an answer that Minho can’t give him. Better to get used to the disappointment early, Minho thinks.
Suddenly, there’s a commotion inside the little hut, a triumphant cheer, then a yell of the captain’s name. Minho is on his feet before he can even think, Jisung hot on his heels as he hurries back inside.
When he opens the door, the captain lifts her head, makes eye contact with him and Minho knows.
They got him.
“He’s trying to get out from under the crown,” she laughs out, Yeji next to her has a triumphant smile on her lips. Ryujin is leaning over the captain’s shoulder, reading Yeji’s notes. But the captain is staring at him.
“He’s trying to sell the territory to the Spanish, pocketing the money before turning around and staging a coup and making them independent. And he’s trying to recruit other governors to do the same, to maximise their chances, their gains. This is …”
The captain nods, and then her lips stretch into the biggest smile and Minho takes a hesitant step forward before he stops again. He’s itching to take her into his arms, to wrap her legs around his waist, twirl her around, kiss her breathless, feel her smile against his lips. But he stops himself, watches as she blinks at him, her pretty, ringed hands twitching around the paper, her mouth opening like she wants to say something. There’s a shadow that crosses her face. But Minho can’t have that, he needs her to feel this, the culmination of all her work, all her sacrifices over the years.
So he smiles at her, makes his way over, stepping up to the side of her that Ryujin readily concedes to him, leans some of his chest against her arm.
He reads.
HYJ to NT. Planned date of sale to SP 20 May 16––. Matthew Town.Independence when agreed capital is made over to us and defence against crown secured. Pray confirm.
Then underneath it.
HYJ to LD. Planned date of sale to SP 20 May 16––. Making over of San Salvador from NT September 16–– in exchange for defence against crown + NT head. Pray confirm.
“Double timing, bastard,” he mumbles, and the captain snorts out a laugh.
“I doubt he could swing this, maybe we should just let it play out.”
Minho scoffs, grasps the opportunity to turn to her, closing the gap between their bodies enough so he can let his hand rest softly on her lower back where nobody can see. He scrapes his nails over the fabric of her shirt, watches her eyes glimmer.
“I’m not taking any chances with this piece of shit. I’d sail across the entire ocean and hand-deliver him to that old hag, the queen if it meant I could see him hang.”
Yeji snorts, and he gives her a dark smirk. He really does like her. Ryujin next to her, has her eyes fixed on where Minho’s hand is still ghosting over the captain’s back. She couldn’t possibly see, so how … He’s distracted by Yeji turning abruptly to Jisung, who was still lingering by the door, a little ways away from the group of them. He looks lost, only hesitantly steps closer. The captain wordlessly hands him the translated note. He reads. Hums.
“What’s up with you?” Yeji asks, and there’s an edge to her tone. “Changed your mind? Suddenly feeling the need to defend your dear uncle? Run off to tell him that we have him cornered?”
Jisung scoffs, and sends her a glare, the first unkind thing he’s done in this house so far, and it strikes Minho how unusual it feels.
“As if,” he mumbles. Then he takes a deep breath and points at the paper.
“LD stands for Lord Dunmore, he is one of the few governors who didn’t immediately run as soon as my uncle showed his true colours. I think he might actually like him, which should tell you everything you need to know. It doesn’t surprise me that he would be the one hired to off Nicholas Trott, or NT. Now, …”
Jisung points lower, gives them a look.
“Trott, on the other hand, he’s the governor of San Salvador. Tall, skinny man. A son and a daughter and a penchant for gardening and whores. Has been turning a blind eye to the drug business being run from his harbour because they cut him in. He’s a piece of shit, but he would probably help us. I know where he lives.”
Yeji huffs out a laugh.
“Guess I underestimated you.”
Jisung just shrugs, throws the captain an uncertain look, his eyes barely brushing Minho where he’s still glued to her side. He doesn’t look as triumphant as he should.
In the distance, the town’s clocktower strikes, and the captain throws a glance out the window, at the slowly setting sun. She takes a step away from Minho. Minho’s hand falls uselessly by his side, and he misses her touch already.
She smiles at her two friends.
“We need to get back, tell the crew about what we found, and probably celebrate,” she says, “You’re welcome to join us, if you want, since … we couldn’t have done it without you.”
Ryujin smiles at her, but shakes her head.
“We don’t really go into town after dark, especially not the bars, but thank you.”
Yeji grins.
“When you get him? Make it painful.”
When the captain says goodbye at the door, Yeji hugs her for a long time.
“Make sure to come visit us again soon, okay? No more coming to Nassau without making the trip out here,” she tells the captain, cups her face, before Ryujin takes her place. She looks troubled.
“Be careful out there, Y/Nie,” she mumbles, “good luck. You’ll need it.”
She pulls the captain into a hug, staring at Minho across her shoulder. She whispers something Minho can’t hear in the captain’s ear before she pulls back.
They make their way through the overgrown garden, out the rickety gate, back onto the dirt road into town. Minho claims his rightful place next to the captain, talks to her about the maps, the code, how they should approach this. Jisung trails behind them, quietly.
The sun is setting, the last rays of sunlight slipping through the palm trees as you make your way down the Main Street after dropping the satchel with the maps and the codes off in your triple locked quarters.
You hear your crew before you can even possibly see them. Their discordant but gleeful singing ringing through the open windows of a small, dark tavern. Light is pouring out of the windows, the door wide open to create some airflow in the sticky hot night.
Jisung behind you is still quiet, avoids your eyes when you turn to him. It’s a weird quiet, one that you don’t like, not from him. Jisung, who usually wears either a petulant little pout or a bright little smile or that steadfast determination that makes him square his shoulders, grow a size taller in stature, an almost dangerous glint in his eyes … No, this Jisung is none of that. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, his eyes sad, feet shuffling across the sandy street in his pretty leather boots that are slowly scuffing into something much less refined and much more recognisable and fitting for ship life. But he avoids your eyes when you try to catch them, so you leave him be. There will be time later.
Minho walks into the tavern first, and you hear everyone greet him with a cheer – but it’s nothing compared to the sound when you appear behind him. The whole room erupts into excited yells, Hyunjin squeals and bounds over to you, taking Jisung hostage from behind you and dragging him over to a table where Seungmin and Jeongin seem to be in the middle of an intense card game. Chan hollers for rum to be poured for the three of you, and you can’t help but laugh when Felix comes up to you, gently pulls you into their midst, pushing a glass of rum into your hand.
You don't go on land with them often, especially not at night and especially not to go drinking. Not because you didn’t trust your crew, per se, but you didn’t trust … men. Crowds of rowdy, drunk men. And while you were pretty sure you had around 30 men who would jump to your defence at a moment’s notice, you knew it would only cause a scene, ruin their night, maybe even get them kicked out of a tavern. It wasn’t worth it. Plus, with the possibility of enemy crews or government spies around, it was borderline impossible for you to relax enough to even consider having more than a few drinks, anyway.
But here, now, in this tavern with what you realise is pretty much only your flushed, happy, singing crew, except for a few scattered, lonely locals, with Han Yujun’s death sentence stowed away in your office? You feel as invincible as you’re ever going to feel.
Felix guides you to the table in the middle before he sits down, looks at you expectantly. A hush falls over the room.
“So?” he asks, his voice tinged with a beautiful shimmer of hope.
You turn around, find Minho still standing by the door, a drink in his hand, his eyes on you already. He smiles softly. A part of you wishes he could be right next to you. It feels as much like his victory as it does yours. You swallow down the urge to beckon him over.
Over Felix’s shoulder you make eye contact with Jisung. He smiles at you, small but oh so sweet, and then you look back at Felix, who is nervously shifting in his seat. You try to play it cool, you really do, but the giddiness that rises in your chest, the elation that you didn’t show earlier, the sheer tidal wave of hope that Yeji’s scribbled words let loose in your heart – a smile spreads over your face before you can stop it.
You watch Felix process it for a second before his whole face lights up, and he half gets out of his chair.
“Do we have him?”
It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You nod.
“High fucking treason.”
The roar that goes through the room is deafening. Cheers, laughs, screams of delight filling the tavern. You think there are tears in Felix’ eyes when he gets up, rounds the table, and pulls you into a hug. And before you know it, you’re surrounded, warm bodies crowding around you until you’re caught in between what you think is your entire crew, still cheering and laughing and congratulating you, praising you for finally bringing him down. You try to answer, try to thank them, tell them it’s not done yet, but there is no room for argument, only their exuberant joy. You surrender to it.
Someone hugs you this way, someone else tugs you that way, and you lose your footing, stumble over someone’s boot, and you briefly wonder if you’re about to fall when a strong hand wraps around your hips, keeps you upright, pulls you closer protectively until you’re finally stable on your feet again, chest to chest with your saviour. When you raise your head, Jisung’s face is mere inches away from yours. You can feel the little breath that drips from his plump, slightly parted lips, could reach out to touch the little mole on his cheek. You watch his eyes flicker down, down to where you’re pressed against him, then to your lips for only a whisper of a second before coming back to stare into your eyes. His eyes are big, dark, beautiful, and so gentle, understanding, and you feel so … safe.
He opens his mouth, splays his palm, runs it the barest hint higher, sending sparks through your body; he’s about to say something, when you hear Minho’s voice cut through the commotion. Jisung lets go of you like he’s been burnt, sending you almost tumbling into whoever is standing behind you. It hurts, the loss of his warmth like a physical ache, but watching him hug his hands close to his chest, pretty face folding in on itself in sadness, is so much worse. Your heart aches, fingertips aching to reach out for him, take his face into your hands, smooth his lips back into a smile.
“Okay, everyone, make some space, you can’t kill our captain before she has a chance to kill the guy.”
And with that, Minho pushes through the crowd, that immediately thins around you. Jisung stumbles away from you as fast as he can, but then Minho is behind you, brings a gentle hand to your waist, just where Jisung’s just was, and turns you around. You blink up at him, and he scowls with worry, searching your face.
“Are you okay?”
He looks concerned, slightly flushed, but nothing else. Could it really be that he didn’t see …? When you don’t answer, he grips you tighter, gives you a careful once-over. You shake your head quickly.
“I’m fine, just … overwhelmed,” you breathe out. At least that’s not a lie.
“Should’ve saved you from these animals earlier,” he grumbles, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Now let’s get you another drink. I think we deserve to celebrate tonight.”
And celebrate you do.
One glass of rum turns into two, then three. You lose Minho at some point, and then he’s back, and you think you’re probably staring, letting your eyes drag over his shoulders, his sparkling eyes and high cheekbones for longer than is acceptable. He doesn’t comment, only looks back at you, an intensity in his gaze that is usually reserved for when he presses his lips against yours in your office with the threat of Chan barging in at any moment.
But he doesn’t leave your side any more. His dark eyes on yours as you float through the tavern, friendly faces cheering you on, clapping you on the back, murmuring low words of thanks and congratulations, as if Han Yujun was already behind bars.
You say this to Seungmin when you plop down next to him, and he just smiles at you.
“They know you. You’re our captain, you don’t lose. And now that you’re so close? There’s nothing that could keep you from taking him down. There’s just no other option.”
You almost blush, give Seungmin a pained grimace that makes him laugh happily.
“Sorry, I won’t get sappy on you,” he reassures you, and you box him in the arm lightly.
“You better not. You’re meant to be the least sappy out of all of us.”
You get swept up by someone else, and Seungmin lets you go with a little wave.
At some point, the barkeep unearths bottles of a shimmering green liquid from underneath the bar, calls it Absinthe, calls it the green fairy that will make all your worries float away. And you drink that, too, along with everyone else, just a little bit – but it turns out a little bit is more than enough.
Because it’s strong. And not strong in the same way the rum is, no, strong in the sense that it makes your world go fuzzy around the edges.
You lose sight of Minho, though you’re caught by Felix again, getting pulled into the midst of your crew. The absinthe makes the room sing, your crew scattered, laughing, drinking, singing their songs to their heart’s content, surprisingly melodic, harmonious, like it’s what they’ve always done. Your soul soars somewhere above you, through the steam and the wooden rafters, brushing past the oil lamps on the walls, fills and aches when you realise how many times you’ve heard this, from the distance, sat in your office while they were celebrating below deck.
And that one night, when Minho hadn’t gone ashore. When he had found you, barefoot, tipsy, doors and windows cast open to let in the salty breeze. When he had taken you upstairs, had kissed you for the first time under the starlight, your world exploding into fragments of light with every hot, sweet press of his lips, his touches like the first ones you’ve ever felt, a purity in the way your body unfolded for him, folded him into you and never let him go since.
Minho. You can feel him next to you again, his solid shoulder right next to yours, his hand, always so strong, yet soft, resting on his own leg when it’s meant to be resting on yours. But you’re in public. You try to distract yourself, look out into the room, at your crew having the time of their life, but nothing wants to focus except fragments; Like the freckles on Felix’s cheeks when he laughs, the way Changbin’s cheeks are flushed with the glow of alcohol, Jeongin’s laugh from somewhere to your left.
And then Jisung pops into your vision, slides onto the bench on your other side, his mouth moving. Somehow, you manage to focus, and you hear him, deep voice like dripping molasses down your spine.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his brows furrowed in concern. But you smile, watch as relief rearranges his features into something beautiful.
You let out a shaky breath, one you can’t account for with any good reason. Distantly, you feel Minho’s hand finally make its way to its home on your knee, but you can’t look away from the man in front of you. His eyes are unfocused, his pouty lips slightly parted, but he’s looking at you, staring back into your eyes again, just like earlier. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, trying to push it back, but it falls right back into his face, brushes against his cheeks, his eyelashes fanning over the skin. It looks so impossibly soft.
You remember Ryujin’s words in the kitchen earlier, when you were making tea, when you watched Jisung and Minho through the window; the tension in Jisung’s shoulders, the unguarded confusion, shame, want in Minho’s eyes. You don’t have to worry. Just let it happen.
A drop of sweat runs down Jisung’s temple, and you follow it with your eyes. Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out, catching it with a gentle fingertip. Jisung trembles, a choked sigh falling from his lips as he leans forward, almost entranced. You can feel his breath fan over your face, herbal notes from the absinthe and something quintessentially Jisung and you want to lean in, want to know if his lips will be sweet like the ripe peaches that seem to have served as inspiration when they created him, whether the skin of his collarbone will taste like the burnt honey that looks like it’s dripping off him when he sweats.
Somewhere in the back of your head, reason prevails, and you stop yourself from leaning in further, but Jisung doesn’t, his face unreadable as he lets a gentle hand rest on your arm, sliding up until it wraps gently around the side of your neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles over your pulse. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat thundering just under the thin veil of your skin. The metal of his rings is cool against into your skin, and you wonder if they would leave marks, if the squeezed closer, wonder if he would squeeze hard enough for the marks to still be visible tomorrow …
Suddenly, Minho’s warm chest slides against your back, hot and grounding, and you can’t help it when your head falls back against his. The need you’ve been carrying around, the vague desire that’s been haunting you when you were alone in your bed or your bath or Minho was already asleep next to you – it makes you unable to resist the sweet, hazy drag of their hands.
When you blink your eyes open, you see Jisung staring at Minho, hazy eyes trained on his lips, and Minho behind you chokes on air.
“Jisung, …” he mumbles. It’s meant to sound like a warning, and it does, too, but somewhere laced in there, you hear his fear. You’re too far gone to figure out what he’s afraid of.
Jisung’s free hand reaches over and slides up Minho’s thigh. Gently, wanting. Something clicks into place when he looks from you to Minho, and back.
“Let me … please,” he whispers, his shimmering eyes swimming with want.
“I want you …”
< chapter VI - chapter VIII >
series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi
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taglist part 1: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148
We're getting straight into it! I got nothing to brief let's gooo!!!!
"And suddenly, it's 16 years earlier."
That is the smoothest transition I've ever read-
"He didn't even have a headstone...but he wanted her to have this."
Oh no...oh gosh no I'm gonna start crying aren't I?
"Another shovelful hits the grass...he will survive anything."
Noo oh my god😭 I was already in my feels and now this??? May whyyyy, oh poor Minho😭
"He picks up the shovel again."
That is always something that will get me. When a character I get attached to has a backstory as painful as this? Idc how cliche some think this type of backstory is, it's heart wrenching and will make me sob everytime.
"He hadn't realized just hoe much he'd missed his friends these last few months"
Oh my already aching heart😭😭😭
"Because Jisung is right behind her...The fall, to act innocent"
Minho baby please what do you want him to do???😭😭😭 Get on his knees and beg to be thrown off the ship??? But- I kinda get it😅 ugh this whole thing is so messy, if only you all knew how to use words😮💨😔
"Only when they're almost all the way out of town does he realize his fists are clenched."
I can't fully remember who knows Minho's past or not but the main crew know right? Chan, Hyun, Lix, Bin, Minnie, Innie and the Captain all know right?🥲 excuse my trash ass memory
"Despite the heat of the day, there's smoke bellowing out of the chimney."
You do SUCH a great job at describing the scenery. It's SO EASY for me to visualize it and put myself even more into the scene. Like a little invisible ghost watching everything unfold in front of, and around me!💜
"There's something penetrating in her gaze...and the captain laughs nervously."
Oh...ooo she's mysterious, I like it✨ can't wait to find out more~
"He smothers the flicker brutally"
It's for the plot Cubbs. It's for the plot Cubbs. It's for the plot Cubbs. They'll acknowledge the love soon, they will, so don't worry- don't worry... *tears of frustration continue*
"Clairvoyant?"
OH THAT MAKES SENSE!!! I LOVE THAT!!! It's so perfect wth!!!
"His heart wants to say yes"
Minho's POV is absolutely killing me inside. His yearning is penetrating my heart like a thousand needles SAVE HIM TO SAVE MEEEEEEEE😭😭
"Jisung wearing his heart on his sleeve drives him fucking crazy. It would get him killed one day."
In that sense, Sung and I are similar😅 maybe a little similar to Minho as well. You learn to put up and strengthen your walls after some time whether by force or not but, you can't truly destroy the roots engrained so deeply into you. I'm always gonna be someone who wears my heart on my sleeve unfortunately. That's just how I love. Oof anyways-
“Well, an enemy of Han Yujun’s, whatever shape he may take, is a friend of ours. Welcome, you two.”
YEAH FUCK THAT GUY!!! WOOOOO
"Minho wants to shove Han Jisung into the ocean."
Can't wait to read this exact same thing in a few chapters but instead it's something like "He burns the image of them into his mind, they're so beautiful together" 😂😭
"Scratch that. Minho wants to drown Han Jisung with his bare fucking hands."
You wanna see them kiss and groan and whine. The gaslighting he does to himself is impressive.
"Wiped out their confidants, their secretaries, anyone who could take up their mantle."
Revenge is always such a tricky subject for humans. Sometimes it's okay sometimes it's not. It always depends on perspective and what exactly drives a person to want that revenge. This is fiction and I say, fuck them. Glad he killed them all.
"Didn't see any point in anyone else as long as she..."
He loves her so much....
"Jisung scoffs, and sends her a glare, the first unkind thing he’s done in this house so far, and it strikes Minho how unusual it feels."
Jisung can be ruthless too Min. Oh I can't wait to see Jisung pop off even more if he gets the chance too. Mean/ruthless Jisung is hot and I'm not sorry for thinking that. It's smoking hot. He's smoking hot. Smoke me out- okay I'll shut up now.
“When you get him? Make it painful.”
You fucking bet we will eldest Hwang!!! That man is going to suffer.
"The roar that goes through the room is deafening...You surrender to it."
What the FUCK is wrong with my playlist bro JUST WHY was "Seungmin's Phobia" chorus BLASTING while I was reading this part??? WHAT'S THE NEED??? I'M SO GIDDY AND SMILING SO WIDE MY CHEEKS HURT BUT THERE'S ALSO TEARS IN MY EYES AAAAHHHH!!!
"You remember Ryujin’s words in the kitchen earlier...You don’t have to worry. Just let it happen."
OH THANK YOU RYUJIN!!!! I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!!
May you don't understand, when I tell you I was having a freaking MELTDOWN reading that ending😭 I was getting so giddy and there was so much excitement but anxiousness swirling around in my chest.
I ended up spending 6 songs reading it because I was so afraid to continue I just starting singing and dancing to the music😭😭😭 But I convinced myself to finish and with every word a part of me died and a new piece was brought to life because FUCKING FINALLY!!!! Yeah they're drunk as hell right now BUT my god is it progress!!! CAUSE NOW IT'S BEEN SAID!!! SPOKEN INTO THE OPEN!!! INTO THEIR EARS!!! Now all that's left is for them to sober up and ACTUALLY have a fucking conversation 😭😭😭
We aren't gonna unpack the irl emotions this brought out of me or the aching lonliness I felt having to freak out all by myself over this masterpiece lol I'm so excited to get to the next chapter!!!
summary: fate drives the last piece of the puzzle to take down your worst enemy right into your hands in the form of han jisung. you don't expect him to take your whole world, and turn it upside down; worming his way into your crew, into your heart – and your complicated relationship with minho. redefining what it means to live and to love, despite it all.
word count: 108k
series warnings: 🔞 smut and angst, but also, this is a pirate story, so we are dealing with period typical warnings! There is blood; violence; abuse; murder; death (no main character death!! this story has a happy ending); mentions of parent and pet death; grief and ptsd; mentions of prostitution and sexual assault (not graphic, in the history of main characters); consensual sexual intercourse, also under the influence; unprotected sex with the pullout method (condoms weren’t invented yet, okay; pulling out does not work!! don’t do it!! this is fiction!!); lots of mxm action
epigraph
chapter I
chapter II
chapter III
chapter IV
chapter V
chapter VI
chapter VII
chapter VIII
chapter IX
interlude
chapter X
chapter XI
interlude
epilogue
*chapters in italics are supplemental poems
asks and thoughts about the sea may rise, sky may fall universe
skzms' masterlist // ko-fi
disclaimer: before someone comes into my inbox - I know pirates wouldn’t bathe much while at sea, that they didn’t eat this lavishly, that women weren’t allowed on ships because they were supposedly bad luck, and I also know that absinthe doesn’t actually fuck you up. I did research, but I also tweaked the colonial history of the bahamas to my liking because - this is a sexy little pirate fanfic, and I make the rules. don't @ me, I will not engage.
huge, and I mean gigantic shoutout to the love of my life @stayconnecteed for sending in the ask that started it all. this series wouldn't exist without you!! I'm so serious!! thank you!!
🔖 taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library
🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!
synopsis: with very busy boyfriends, nights are the perfect time to catch up with how your days have been. it's just that some nights are made for worshipping each lover, and giving every second of your time to make them feel good.
SEE MORE.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀1.4k words. ⠀⠀general mlist.⠀⠀join taglist.
⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀pairing ★ lee know x reader x yang jeongin.
⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀smut content ★ pleasure dom jeongin / subby ( switch thoughts for a sec ) minho / cute sub reader, boy x boy action, neck kisses, use of good girl, can't remember more⠀⠀plot ★ mentions of ot8, reader is waiting patiently her turn (or not so patiently) & minho gets wrecker by his maknae, who's a simp for reader.
⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀author's note ★ hi @hyungszn this is for you 🫶🏼 it's actuslly 3am here so i'm going to sleep now but i hope this was worth it and you like it. ofc not proofread at all, i actually had to ask kats for feedback in the first half because i wasn't thinking straight and all felt wrong. ( edit : tumblr is playing my sanity and won't let the pics stay as i want so i'll correct it tomorrow i'm too tired rn)
⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀credits ★ mdni banner by @cafekitsune + warnings : if any under 18 / ageless acc interacts with this fic i'll block them.
The sky held the constellations tragically in the celestial vault, but you were looking down, watching with a reassuring smile curving your lips as the stars poured into Minho's big doe eyes, unfocused but as dark as the night. It wasn't your most usual view, but the few occasions you could witness the strong facade of your boyfriend crumbling down, those were your favorites.
He was a blushing mess, too, you were sure of it. The dim lights illuminated just an orange haze around the room, highlighting Minho's unfiltered, honeyed skin, and you couldn't actually see the red hue spreading up his ears and down his shoulders, but you felt him almost feverish under your fingertips. His back was sweating against your bare chest, but you didn't care. He was the center of attention at the moment, and you were fine with that.
Jeongin had promised you a delicious reward if you were, so you had forced yourself to swallow every whine that threatened to spill out of your lips each time you felt how the maknae's hips pounded into Minho. You knew how the boy was feeling 一you had been in his position too many times一 and you craved to switch places with him right then and there, but the vision of him being wrecked had you stuck over the mattress, carving each movement and reaction into your brain.
He was so pretty. All overwhelmed, resting his head in pillowy breasts, his disheveled long inky hair tickling your skin, and exhaling breathy ah-ah-ah’s with each thrust. He was adamant to maintain his eyes on yours, as Jeongin had asked him to do, the order creeping up his throat as the boy's lips traced over his pulse point, a stuck whine reverberating in your ears when Jeongin yanked backwards Minho by his hair. He did the same with you. Jeongin loved to be the one in control.
“Look at一a-ah一our girl, hyung,” he had gasped, breathing heavily, and Minho had opened his eyes, looking at you with a tinge of frenetic desperation in his movements. “She's waiting for her turn, sitting all prettily under you, mm? What do we say when she behaves like that?”
Jeongin was almost panting into his mouth, their breaths mingling in a hot blur with each rise of their chests, and Minho tried to answer, his voice shattering into silence, strained praises, his mind fighting against the effect the maknae had on him. You were right there, even if he had forgotten, and you weren't supposed to watch him fall apart like that.
“What did you say?” asked Jeongin, his wolfish smirk making you keen against the sheets, slowing his pace, reducing it to stuttering thrusts every time Minho clenched around him. “I didn't quite hear you.”
“Good… hah, good girl,” he muttered, closing his eyes for a moment, gluping, his Adam's apple hurriedly caressing the finger you had in his throat. You loved to play with fire, his fire, especially if the burn stinged after his touch.
“Thought so,” Jeongin sighed once he summarized his hectic race to reach the orgasm. He was resting his arms around both of your bodies, and you could see each twitch of his muscles under his smooth skin. An addict to his lovers, a maniac looking for a release. And still, “our good, gorgeous, obedient girl. What would we do without you, mm-hm?”
That was what you loved about sharing a bed with your Innie. He still treated you like the princess he thought you were, even if his hyungs had told him the opposite. You were his soft spot, acting consequently when he had you underneath him.
"It would be very boring," you intervene, your sugary tone chasing a shiver down Minho's spine.
“It’s一fuck一it’s that so?” Jeongin said, trying to focus on your silhouette, all curves and flesh over his white sheets, his cute frown of concentration giving away that he was getting close.
“Yeah,” you whispered, accommodating yourself under Minho's twitching body. You paused as soon as the pressure on your clit was perfect, knowing you wouldn't get any release if Jeongin caught you. “You're not giving him attention at all.”
It was meant as a childish complaint, batting your lashes at him, sweetening your way into some action, but Minho whimpered as soon as he felt your leaking cunt on his skin, and you had to press your lips to his neck to distract Jeongin. Wet, messy kisses over his sensitive skin, earning a proud glance from your younger boyfriend. He knew what you wanted, but he wasn't sure he was going to give it to you.
You were gazing at Minho's neglected cock. Furiously red, resting deliciously over his soft tummy. And your eyes screamed with hunger.
“Do you want to give him some attention, baby?” he asked, and you automatically looked for his approval, wanton puppy eyes begging him to set you free.
Minho hadn't been listening to a word, too occupied with the pool of arousal he felt burning in the pit of his stomach, each slight movement of you two sending his mind into a spiral. He was starting to feel a little bit sore, his cum sticking to his skin where he had come already, untouched, embarrassingly soon in the night. But he could hold it a little bit more. Even if he was sore, it felt like heaven.
The ruffle of the sheets were the one that indicated to him you were no longer under him. The mattress was so soft and warm he almost didn't know the difference, but then you were all over him. Your hands on his chest, caressing his worked pecs and dancing over his nipples. Minho’s breath got stuck in his throat. The shadow of your fingertips descended leaving a trail of shudders at its wake, and your lips followed, your spit the only lube he craved at the moment.
Jeongin felt the exact second you reached your destination, because the thick thighs of his boyfriend closed around his waist with renovated strength, a core worked almost every day at the gym. He stuttered, closing his eyes and breathing slowly to keep the composure, and reached for the flesh of Minho, his hand brushing against the sensitive skin under his knees and helping Minho to keep his grasp on him. He slowed his pace, starting to grind against him instead of rolling his hips, observing your motions carefully.
The sensations were too much when you gently stroked the tip of Minho's dick into your hand, and even more overwhelming when he felt your hot breathe around him. He dared to look down at you, and groaned when he saw you kitten licking the creamy cum out of his tummy, throwing his head back until he hit the pillow. His tense tights trembled around Jeongin when you started to suck him off, the way you swallow him whole creating a chain reaction.
You hear Jeongin's sweet voice exhale a breathy moan as he cums, still clawing your boyfriend's flesh, his sweaty forehead resting on your shoulder while you bob your head over Minho's cock. The dancer is whimpering like crazy, eyes shut and hands grabbing the sheets like his life depends on it. You can feel the way he jerks his hips under your touch, pleading for your permission to release, and you enjoy the power a little bit too much. With a mischievous flicker of your tongue, he cums while he babbles about how good it feels, and you let your fingertips travel from his waist to his quivering tights as you devour what's left of him on your mouth once he softens.
You hear the content sighs, both boys laying down comfortably before you, and you giggle, starting to stand up to go fetch a towel to clean them up. But as you try to get up from the bed, you feel a ringed hand grabbing your ankle. When you look back, you make eye contact with Jeongin's blown out pupils.
“Where do you think you're going?” he whispers, voice hoarse. “We haven't finished yet, baby. Now's your turn.”
Gosh Mars...the way you write your lovers is so intoxicating. They're all so obsessed with each other in a way that feels almost wrong to bare witness too. Like it's their own world and you shouldn't be peeking into it. All that love is theirs and theirs alone to witness.
This was so good, so romantic, so hot and ugh I loved it!
synopsis: You’ve been dating Jisung for while but something is bothering you. Being an over thinker, you assume that you’re the problem but Jisung assures you that isn’t the case at all.
Or Jisung has alien anatomy and is worried about being intimate with you.
This fic is explicit. Minors do not interact. The warnings are under the cut.
warnings: minors dni!!, explicit, alien!jisung, monster fucking, jisung has tentacles, tentacle sex, unprotected sex, slight bulging, lots of cum like lots of it, jisung’s cum is an aphrodisiac, i’m not a monster expert pls don’t come for me TT, it’s just pure filth, p with a lil plot
You had been through every possibility under the sun.
As an overthinker, the explanations had ultimately ended up in you deciding that maybe Jisung just didn’t like you enough to be intimate with you.
You frowned at this.
Your seven month anniversary with him was approaching soon. Seven months and Jisung had shown his love for you everyday since the two of you had gotten together. Even your friends agreed that the poor guy was just as lovesick for you as you were for him.
You saw it, you felt it, so why was this the only conclusion floating around your head?
“I don’t know,” your best friend mumbles next to you as you finish airing your troubles out to him.
“Maybe his dick is small and he’s embarrassed.”
You shoot a glare in his direction at that.
“I doubt it. It’s probably just me,” you mutter before grabbing another chicken leg.
“Hey,” Changbin scolds before turning fully in your direction.
“I’m sure whatever it is has nothing to do with you. Talk to him. You have to keep in mind that he’s an alien. He probably can’t sense that he’s doing something wrong. Humans can’t even pick up on that shit half the time.”
Changbin had a point.
Jisung wasn’t like the rest of you.
When you first met, he had trouble communicating with you. Things were much different on his planet than they were on earth—that much you were certain of. There was a chance he hadn’t noticed anything wrong.
Maybe his kind didn’t have sex or procreate in the same way that humans did. Maybe your advances really did fly over his head.
You weren’t sure.
You had never thought about it until now, assuming that there were probably similarities between his species and yours. After all, Jisung was a pretty convincing human.
The thoughts plague your head until the next time you see your boyfriend. However, once he swings open the door, you feel all the weight that you had been carrying this past week dissipate.
With the way Jisung was looking at you, how could you ever believe for even a millisecond that he didn’t love you as much as you loved him?
Jisung pulled you into his arms, tucking his face against your neck. A soft chitter left him, something he had only within the past few months allowed himself to do in front of you. Your heart pounded at the thought of him becoming comfortable enough with you to let his alien quirks show in front of you.
But that was it.
The chittering was about the only thing Jisung had shown you. Other than that, you had heard him speak in his native tongue a few times with your other alien friend Minho, but that was extremely rare.
You hadn’t brought yourself to ask him why.
But then your best friend's words echoed in your head.
As much as you hated to admit it, Changbin was right. Jisung wouldn’t know what was bothering you if you didn’t talk about it.
An hour or so had passed after arriving at his place. When you were cuddled up with him on the couch and your focus had started to drift from the film you were watching—you finally found the courage to ask him.
“Ji, can I ask you something?”
Jisung looked a bit startled at the question, maybe even slightly nervous but nodded nonetheless.
You take a deep breath, trying to think of a way to phrase the subject matter lightly. Instead, all that comes out in your nervousness is, “Why won’t you have sex with me?”
Jisung sputters and you feel your cheeks heat.
Alright, maybe you could have worded the question a little less bluntly.
“W-What?”
“Do you not want to? Do you not like me like that?”
Jisung’s eyes are wide as he quickly shakes his head.
“N-No it’s not that at all!”
“Then…why?”
You feel frustrated. Not with Jisung, but with all the what ifs plaguing your mind—that have been plaguing your mind for the past week. To your relief Jisung notices this, suddenly looking less alarmed at the question and more somber.
Almost sad.
“It has nothing to do with you baby. Believe me I want to. I just—.”
Jisung stops himself.
“What is it Ji? You can tell me.”
Jisung’s mouth opens and then closes, his nose scrunching slightly as he tries to find the right words.
“Keeping the glamor on—it takes a lot of energy. I don’t think I could keep it up if we were to be intimate and I don’t want to scare you.”
Your heartstrings tug at how sad Jisung looks.
“Glamor?”
Jisung motions towards himself, “I don’t actually look like this.”
You blink twice at the newfound information but remain quiet so he can continue.
“Also,” he continues, but not before averting his eyes.
“I don’t exactly have the same anatomy as humans do. I—it’s different.”
“Ji,” you whisper his name before taking his hand into yours.
“I’m not scared of you. And I don’t care that you aren’t built the same way as humans.”
Jisung’s gaze returns to yours, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips.
“But you haven’t seen me. The real me.”
You inhale deeply before lifting a hand to his cheek.
“Would you be comfortable showing me?”
There’s a bit of hesitation. Jisung is scared and you’ll admit his reaction does make you a bit nervous, but you love Jisung for who he is—not for what he is.
“I—I want to show you,” he starts as he leans into your touch.
“But?”
You can tell he’s holding something back.
“I don’t want this to change anything between us. After this I’ll never take my glamor off again. I promise I won’t I—.”
“Jisung,” you say his name firmly but softly.
He shuts up, his wide but fearful eyes meeting yours.
“Have a little faith in me, okay? I love you. This won’t change anything,” you whisper.
Jisung shakes slightly with nerves beneath your touch but ends up giving you a stiff nod.
“Yeah, okay.”
You pull him into a soft kiss, pressing one more against the cute beauty mark on his cheek—one that you can’t help but wonder if it will remain even after he transforms.
Jisung pulls away from you slightly before standing.
“Could you maybe close your eyes?”
You nod, giving him a reassuring smile before slipping your eyes shut.
You can’t help but to feel nervous and anxious at seeing your boyfriend in his natural form for the first time. But you don’t find yourself scared at all—rather more excited than anything and grateful that he trusts you enough to show himself to you.
A moment passes, then two and Jisung produces a soft chitter.
At the sound, your eyes open and a gasp leaves you.
He’s—he’s—.
He’s beautiful.
You’re positive there isn’t a word in existence to describe Jisung’s beauty.
His eyes are much darker, almost black and doubling in size to where the whites of his eyes are nearly impossible to see.
His once brunette hair is now a shade of dark blue and slightly longer than it was before.
There were flecks of light dancing beneath his skin, like electricity was running through his veins rather than blood. You notice a few markings on his now pale blue skin. His temples and his neck along with parts of his arms that you could see bore the intricate design. You were elated to see the beauty mark you loved so much was present even in his natural form.
Your gaze moved from his elongated fingers to the two short antennas protruding from the top of his head, which slightly curled downward as Jisung grew visibly nervous under your stare.
His beauty was so—otherworldly, literally.
You had never seen a more ethereal being in your life.
You wanted to tell Jisung, but the words seemed to be lodged in your throat.
“It’s weird right,” Jisung whispered.
Your eyes met his then, noticing the slight worry in his obsidian gaze.
“No.”
Jisung seemed surprised at that, his forehead creasing slightly.
“Ji you’re—I mean look at you! You’re beautiful,” you say breathlessly.
“I—really?”
You see bits of that sparkle again, this time fluttering amongst the tops of his cheeks.
“Are you blushing?”
Jisung gapes at that before turning himself slightly away from you out of embarrassment.
“No I’m sorry—hey it’s okay,” you say as you stand, taking his hands into your own.
“You really don’t mind? You aren’t freaked out?”
You shake your head, stepping into his space before looping your arms around his neck. Jisung tenses slightly but then relaxes as your fingers begin to play with the hairs at the end of his neck.
“You’re beautiful Ji.”
Another wave of electricity flows beneath his skin.
You don’t allow him to say anything, instead opting to press your lips against his.
Jisung sighs against your lips as he pulls you closer and deepens the kiss. Heat spreads throughout your body when Jisung presses against you, his grip against your waist the only thing grounding you.
When you slip your tongue between his lips Jisung is suddenly reeling back, so fast and sudden as if he’s been burned.
“Jisu—.”
“Wait,” Jisung pants.
“My—what we talked about before,” he says, barely above a whisper.
Your eyes widen in realization before you feel your own cheeks heating.
“We don’t have to talk about that today if you don’t want to.”
Jisung shakes his head, “It’s just. In this form everything is different. My tongue—it’s not the way it was before.”
Your brows furrow slightly, “What do you mean?”
Jisung takes a deep breath before opening his mouth and you’re taken aback by the sight.
Jisung’s tongue is a deep purple. You watch as it elongates and curls slightly past his chin. It ends about midway down his neck before it forks at the tip.
It’s then that you notice Jisung has fangs as well.
At your silence, Jisung pulls his tongue back into his mouth looking dejected.
“Y/n,” he starts slowly, “If this freaks you out I—I can’t show you the rest of me.”
You quickly shake yourself out of the haze the sight of his tongue had created in your head.
“No it’s not that I’m just—in awe I guess.”
Jisung pouts a little and your chest clenches.
“Baby this is new for the both of us. I’m getting to see you for the first time. It’s not freaking me out, you're just—extraordinary.”
Your comment seems to ease Jisung’s previous worries as he steps closer to you.
“Really?”
“Really Ji. You’re different, yes, but I know you wouldn’t hurt me. So I have nothing to be freaked out about,” you whisper as you reach up to brush a strand of long blue hair that had fallen into his eyes.
Jisung shudders under your touch, releasing a loud chitter—almost akin to a purr.
“Never,” he whispers.
With that you lean in to press a lingering kiss against his bottom lip.
“Will you allow me to see the rest of you?”
Jisung nods, almost eagerly, before pressing his lips to yours once more.
A giggle slips from you at his urgency but it’s soon replaced by a gasp when you feel his tongue prod at your lips. You open them slightly, allowing the wet appendage to lick into your mouth. It feels strange but not much different than the way his tongue usually feels. The way the forked tongue caresses yours has your knees weakening—forcing Jisung to keep you steady on your feet.
When you pull away his eyes are wide, ragged breaths slipping from him that match your own.
“Bed—,” you don’t even get the words out before he’s lifting you.
You yelp at the movement, still not used to his unnatural strength.
Jisung brings you to his room and lays you on the bed before crawling over you. His lips continue their attack on yours before trailing his kisses from your lips to your jaw and then down your neck.
When Jisung nips at your neck, you whimper slightly at the pinch of his fang against your skin.
“Sorry,” Jisung mutters shyly.
You shake your head before tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him back to your neck.
“More.”
Jisung complies, his lips attaching themself to your skin once more. You writhe beneath him as he marks your skin. A part of you hopes the marks turn a pretty purple like Jisung’s tongue.
When Jisung is satisfied he pulls back with a soft click.
You smile before taking his face into your hands.
“It’s cute when you do that, you know?”
Jisung looks confused.
“The noises you make when you’re happy.”
Jisung flushes at that. You let your thumb trace the tiny sparkles beneath his skin.
“I can’t believe you’re real,” you whisper.
The emotion in your voice seems to affect Jisung as well, his features displaying nothing but the fondness and love he has for you.
“I love you.”
It’s not the first time he’s said those three words to you, but it feels like it.
“I love you Ji.”
With that, your lover kisses you again—much softer than your previous make out session. Your hands find their way from his cheeks to the hem of his shirt.
When your fingertips brush against the soft skin of his stomach, Jisung pulls back slightly—disconnecting your lips.
“Are you sure,” he whispers, giving you a chance to back out.
“I want this,” you assure him, feeling like you could cry, “I want you—all of you.”
Jisung nods before lifting off of his forearms to sit back—straddling your hips.
He pulls his shirt over his head, exposing himself for the first time in front of you. You gasp at the sight of him, the way the glowing patterns on his neck connect to the ones on his chest. You can’t help but to gawk at how built your lover is, tracing the dips and curves of his chest and abdomen with your finger tips.
You reach for his basketball shorts but Jisung stops you.
“There's something I have to show you before you see—well,” Jisung is nervous again.
You sit up, hands running comfortingly over Jisung’s pale blue thighs as you press a gentle kiss to his jaw, “Show me.”
Jisung seems more nervous than he had been previously and you can’t help but to wonder why.
Then that’s when you see it.
A dark purple, almost black, slimy appendage creeps over his left shoulder. A movement to your right draws your attention—another one. They slip over your lover's shoulders, one dropping to lay across Jisung’s chest while the other reaches out towards you. You flinch slightly at the foreign feeling against your heated skin but soon relax in Jisung’s hold.
“They’re a little cold.”
Jisung releases a breath you didn’t realize he had been holding.
“Can I—can I release them all?”
You nod as your fingers reach out to the one against his chest. It leans into your touch much like Jisung does.
They’re cute.
Two more join the two of you, this time coming from around his sides.
“Wow,” you whisper in awe as you watch the tentacles move.
“Wait a minute,” you say suddenly and both Jisung and his tentacles still.
“Is this why Minho asked me if I was into tentacles.”
You knew from the state of his cheeks that you were correct.
“That sly sly man,” you huff, but there’s no mirth behind it.
Jisung looks slightly embarrassed.
“So if you knew this turned me on, why were you so worried?”
Jisung released his bottom lip before speaking, “It’s one thing when it’s a fantasy. It’s another when it’s real.”
You hummed as your eyes focused back on the tentacles, absolutely fascinated.
“How many do you have? Is this all of them?”
Jisung shook his head, his eyes not meeting yours this time.
“Then where…,” your question trails off.
Jisung clears his throat before taking you by your shoulders and laying you back on the bed.
“I want to make love to you,” he whispers as his eyes trail from your lips to your eyes.
You feel the way his tentacles drag against your skin—suddenly forgetting about your unanswered question as you nod eagerly.
“Please.”
That’s all it takes for Jisung to kiss you again, hands and tentacles everywhere.
Jisung removes your shirt with help from one of the appendages. Once you are exposed Jisung’s mouth finds one of your nipples while a slimy tentacle finds the other.
“Fuck,” you whine as you arch into both of them.
Jisung sucks in tandem with the tentacle, bringing you to the edge of bliss.
“Jisung,” you whimper his name as he rolls your bud between his teeth.
Heat pools in your core at the sensation, causing you to buck your hips up against his. Jisung’s eyes don’t leave yours for one second. He observes the way your face contorts at the pleasure he’s giving you.
You nearly cry when Jisung’s warm mouth leaves you.
“Let me taste you,” Jisung practically begs, a soft whine leaving his throat as he presses his face against your stomach, nuzzling slightly into it.
It’s only at the mention of him tasting you that you notice how sticky your thighs had become.
“Fuck Ji—please just do something.”
Jisung slides down your front at the plea. He doesn’t waste any time removing your shorts along with your underwear. The skin of Jisung’s palms is hot against yours where he parts your legs.
A low vibration leaves him—a sound you haven’t heard before, but one that leaves your body tingling nonetheless.
“You’re so wet.”
The observation comes out in disbelief. You’ll admit that the wetness between your thighs is a first. You’ve never been so ready and aching for someone in your life.
“Ji—tongue please.”
Somehow his dark gaze turns even darker, his lids are heavy as his focus zeros in on your center. Two of his tentacles have taken the place of his hands; holding your legs spread open for him.
The feeling makes you clench around nothing.
Jisung mumbles to himself—something in his own language that you’ve heard him utter once or twice before.
You watch as his forked tongue drags across his lips before he inches closer. Your body tenses in anticipation at the feeling of his breath ghosting against your core.
Then, after what feels like ages, Jisung finally tastes you.
The sound you let out is obscene. You feel your lover everywhere all at once; his hands gripping your waist as he devours you, two of his slimy tentacles restraining your legs, the third now wraps across your chest, it’s suckers continuing to abuse your nipples and the fourth you feel against your neck—slowly creeping up the side of your jaw.
Jisung’s tongue is like no other, making you see the stars—hell the entire galaxy.
He focuses on your throbbing clit at first, his forked tongue doing wonders before gently lapping at your lips and collecting your essence with every swipe.
Then you feel his fingers spread you wider before licking deep into you.
You feel too far gone already.
Your mind trails back to earlier—to the length of his tongue. You wonder how far it could go? How deep could it reach within you?
The sounds Jisung makes as he eats you out only makes you wetter. It’s absolutely obscene. If it wasn’t for the wet sounds coming from between your thighs, it’s the way he grunts against your heat. As if bringing you pleasure in turn brought him pleasure.
It isn’t long before you feel the tip of his tongue against the soft spot inside you.
“Fuck,” you cry out as your fingers find purchase in soft strands of blue hair.
Jisung physically shudders against your pussy when your fingers accidentally brush his antennas.
Sensitive. Good to know.
When your head lolls to the side, your lips meet the tip of Jisung’s tentacle. Without thinking your mouth falls slack, just enough for the appendage to slither its way in.
A muffled moan leaves you and Jisung at the action. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer—
With a muffled cry you find your release, accidentally biting down on the appendage in your mouth, causing it to withdraw from your lips. You want to chase after it, missing the weight of it on your tongue but you feel too weak.
Too fucked out to even think.
Jisung carefully removes himself from your core—face now shining with your essence.
Your cheeks heat at the sight.
“Was that okay?”
You huff out a laugh at the unexpected question.
Jisung, who was currently sporting the remains of a very intense orgasm on his face, was asking if it was okay—if he was okay.
“Are you kidding? That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.”
Jisung looks more confident at the words and your heart swells.
“Come here,” you reach out towards him, making small grabbing motions with your hands.
Jisung complies, making his way back into your arms—but not before wiping his face against his abandoned shirt.
You taste yourself on his lips when they finally meet.
The kiss isn’t gentle by any means and both of your hands are everywhere, wanting to touch every inch of the other. Your hands make their way to the front of Jisung’s shorts—elated to touch him only to end up slightly confused.
Where you’d assume Jisung’s dick to be there was—well, nothing?
Jisung still shuddered as your palm grazed over a particular spot—mouth falling open in a silent moan.
The more you rubbed the more you started to feel a soft lump—or two?
“Ji where's your dick?”
Jisung huffs out something between a laugh and a moan before raising up.
“It’s there it’s just—we’ll you’ll see.”
Jisung removes his shorts and underwear in one go. He looks at you and then back down at himself.
“Is it,” you start as you prop yourself up on your forearms.
“It’s inside.”
Jisung’s anatomy wasn’t at all what you had expected.
There, laying just a little ways below his pelvis, was a soft purple slit. It pulsed slightly, a slick, iridescent liquid coating it.
Your mouth watered slightly at the sight. You would have pushed him to the bed and licked it up but something stopped you—a movement from inside the slit.
Two small tentacles slivered out of it—looking almost identical to the bigger ones protruding from Jisung’s back.
“You asked where the rest of them were,” Jisung voices, “I have seven in total.”
“Seven? You mean…”
Jisung nods, gulping nervously.
A gasp catches in your throat as the seventh and final tentacle emerges. Although this one is shaped differently—much different.
It has ridges and is thicker than the others but shorter in length. The girth of it makes you gulp.
It looks more like a dick than you would have thought. It’s a pretty blue shade just like his skin but gradually becomes purple towards the head.
It’s monstrous and it has both your gut and pussy clenching with excitement.
You recall Changbin’s words, thinking he would eat them if he were to know the truth.
Jisung wasn’t small, not in the slightest.
You watch as that same pearly substance from before pool at the tip before dripping off and onto your stomach.
You reach out to scoop it up and bring it to your lips but Jisung stops you, a slight panic in his eyes.
“Don’t—it’s an aphrodisiac. It’s much more potent when consumed orally.”
Your eyes widen.
“Will it—how does it—,” you flush when you can’t find the proper words.
Jisung smiles but it’s more of a smirk.
You’re relieved that he’s feeling much more comfortable now.
“It’s for mating—to help the process be more bearable.”
“Mating?”
Jisung hums before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll tell you more about it later. But right now I really need to be in you.”
You nod hurriedly before grabbing the back of his head and bringing his lips to yours in a rushed but soft kiss.
“Please Ji.”
Jisung’s features grow slightly dark, sending a wave of excitement through your body.
“So good,” he growls and you shiver, “Begging for me like this. You’re so fucking cute.”
Your thighs press together at that.
This side of Jisung was new, but definitely not unwelcomed.
“Don’t worry pretty,” he presses one final kiss to your lips.
“I’ll give you what you want—what you’ve been fantasizing about.”
“What I’ve been fantasizing about.”
That’s when you feel it, one of the smaller tentacles snaking between your legs. Your body tenses at the foreign feeling despite your excitement.
“Relax baby—gotta prep you first.”
You listen to him, letting your legs fall open once more. The tentacle is cold against your heated core but it feels so good.
Its movements aren’t rushed by any means, taking its time rubbing between your lips, circling your clit—building up the intense heat inside you with its teasing touches before it finally prods at your entrance.
You moan as you watch it disappear between your legs.
It’s slightly thicker than Jisung’s tongue but it doesn’t reach as far.
You’re practically panting when you notice the other smaller tentacle wrap itself around Jisung before giving a firm tug and then another.
Jisung shudders at the movement.
You’ve never seen anything hotter in your life—watching as it moves up and down him, the tip of the tentacle teasing his weeping and sensitive head.
When you shift your gaze you find Jisung’s already on you. The intensity of his stare has you clenching around the tentacle buried deep within you.
Your head falls back against the pillow, fingers reaching out to grip at anything you can as your back arches in indescribable pleasure.
That’s when you feel Jisung’s fingers between yours. The action has your heart fluttering. Even in the midst of the filthiest sex fantasy you’ve ever had being brought to life—Jisung is still so gentle and loving with you.
“Can I add the other?”
You think you nod because in the next second you feel the other tentacle that had been wrapped around Jisung push into you. The feeling of them gliding next to each other inside you had you leaking so much.
You were certain Jisung’s sheets were doomed.
A tingling sensation begins at your entrance and a slight unfamiliar heat spreads inside of you as the tentacles continue to penetrate you.
“Ji,” you find your voice—almost embarrassed at how breathy and fucked out you sound.
“Yeah?”
“What’s—why does it feel—.”
You can’t finish. You’ve never felt so good in your life. The warmth inside you feels so—you can’t explain it.
“That’s the aphrodisiac. Does it feel good baby?”
You whine as the tentacles continue to stretch you, “Amazing. M’feels so good.”
Your body tenses on the brink of another orgasm, but this time it’s taken away from you.
A sting pricks at your eyes as Jisung retracts the tentacles. He shushes you as he positions his forearms next to your head once more, hovering over you.
“Want you to come around me this time,” he groans before lining himself up with you.
Jisung distracts you with his lips as his tip prods your entrance.
A choked gasp leaves you at the feeling.
“Shhh baby—relax for me. Good girl.”
The praises make your brain fuzzy as his girth inches further inside you.
Jisung is careful with his thrusts, pushing in a few inches before pulling out and repeating the motion.
You’ve never felt so full in your life.
Your lover doesn’t look any better. His eyes are squeezed shut—harsh pants leaving him as he presses inside you.
“Baby?”
Jisung’s eyes open at the pet name, his black eyes meeting yours.
“S-So tight. Fuck you feel so good Y/n.”
“You too. So good—so big. Fuck I can feel you here,” you whimper as a weak hand comes to rest against your tummy.
Jisung’s head hangs as a long moan leaves him, his hand coming to rest right next to yours.
“Fuck,” he grunts, hips slowing their pace slightly, “I’m not hurting you am I?”
You shake your head, eyes heavy as Jisung continues to thrust inside you.
“No—feels so fucking good. So full, so—.”
Your words trail off as your eyes roll into the back of your head.
You felt so fucking consumed by him.
Jisung whimpers when you clench around him. Every now and again you find yourself giving it a squeeze, bringing him closer and closer to his release.
“I’m close,” you call out as Jisung continues to hit right where you need him with every thrust.
Jisung nods, muttering a soft,‘me too,’ before hiking one of your thighs over his forearm and changing the angle—fucking deeper into you.
The room is filled with moans, whimpers and grunts as the two of you chase your highs together.
One thing was certain, Jisung had ruined you in every way possible.
“Fucking made for me,” he groans as his eyes focus in on where he disappears inside of you.
“Taking me so well. Made just for me, mine—all mine.”
‘Yours,’ you wanted to say but all that left your mouth were obscene moans.
You loved him. Fuck you love him so much.
A continuous string of whimpers and pleas fall from your lips and Jisung obeys every single one.
This felt right. He felt right. You had never felt more complete than in this moment.
Jisung’s cock continues to abuse your hole, pulsing deep inside you with every thrust.
Oh god how quickly you had become addicted to the delicious drag of his monstrous cock.
Your arms wrap around his as he changes positions, allowing your thighs to slip around his waist as he presses his front to yours. His thrusts aren’t as fast, rather slow and deep.
But it allows for you to feel him, every ridge and dip of his cock as he continues to fuck you.
“H-How do you say it Ji,” you whimper, arms clinging onto his shoulders.
“S-Say what?”
Your eyes meet his and you become overwhelmed.
“I love you Ji. How do you—how do you say it in your language.”
Your heart clenches you can see the glittery tears begin to pool in his eyes.
Jisung’s lips fall open and he speaks. The words are unfamiliar to you but you repeat them back to him as best as you can.
The look on Jisung’s face tells you all you need to know. He echoes the words back at you before leaning down for a soft but passionate kiss.
“Got so lucky,” he whispers against your neck—hips never faltering in their movements to bring you to ecstasy.
“I-I think I’m the lucky one.”
Jisung’s hips begin to falter and you can feel he’s close.
“I’m gonna come. Fuck I need to pull out baby.”
Your legs wrap tighter around him—violently shaking your head.
“Please Ji—want it.”
Jisung shakes his head, “It’s a lot. There might be too much.”
You refuse, profusely begging for him to give it to you.
“Fuck, how can I resist you.”
Your lips meet, hotly panting against one another and Jisung fucks into you once—twice—and it’s when your hands brush against his antennas once again that he comes, long and hard.
The feeling of him releasing deep within you prompts your orgasm. You’re shaking with your high, breathing heavily as Jisung fills you to the brim. You whimper at the feeling of your stomach expanding slightly with his load. It’s when you both feel it start to come out that Jisung pulls out of you—but not without a whine leaving the two of you.
He’s still coming in thick spurts even then and you almost come again at the sight.
After a few moments, once you both are covered in the glittery substance, he finally collapses on top of you.
The two of you lie together, breathing harsh as you both try to grasp what just happened.
Jisung shifts his weight off of you and falls to your side.
Before you can complain, he’s pulling you against him and nuzzling his face into your neck.
Jisung chitters happily and you feel content.
The two of you lay in silence for a while, Jisung chittering happily as you press soft kisses against his forehead, nose, lips—anywhere you can reach. He traces the marks on your skin with his fingers—both those he had produced and the suction marks from his tentacles. Those which had wrapped tightly around you, keeping you secured and safe against your lover.
A little while later Jisung reluctantly pulls himself away from you, retracting his tentacles to your disappointment and wandering off to the bathroom in search of something to clean the both of you.
Jisung is gentle during the cleanup, wiping your sensitive areas carefully and pressing gentle kisses to your skin—whispering about how good you were for him and how lucky he was to have you.
You could only watch him with a sleepy smile, still feeling the after affects of your intense love making session.
Afterwards, Jisung dresses you both before crawling back into bed with you and snuggling up to you once more.
You play with Jisung’s hair, giggling when his antennas brush against your jaw.
As you take in your lover's alien features, a thought crosses your mind.
“Hey Ji,” you whisper softly, careful not to be too loud in case the man has already fallen asleep on your chest.
Jisung lets out a low hum, it’s sleepy but indicates that he’s still awake.
“The glamor—,” you start and Jisung's body instantly tenses.
He sits up suddenly, eyes finding yours—instantly wide awake at the mention of his camouflage.
“What about it?”
The question comes out nervously, causing you to frown.
“I just wanted to know if it’s difficult to keep it on?”
Jisung deflates, looking like a kicked puppy.
“I’ll put it back on,” he says quietly before trying to shift out of your hold.
“No Ji,” you quickly stop him.
“That’s not what I meant baby. I don’t want you to put it back on.”
Jisung looks confused as he meets your gaze, “You don’t?”
He seems surprised and that makes you sad.
“No it’s just—you said earlier that it takes a lot of energy to keep it on?”
Jisung nods in confirmation.
“Then promise me when we’re together that you’ll take it off. I want you to be comfortable around me.”
Jisung’s eyes light up.
“You really mean that? It doesn’t bother you?”
You huff out a laugh in disbelief, “If it bothered me would I have let you fuck me just now?”
Jisung’s eyes widen, his cheeks lighting up in a pretty blush.
Cute.
“N-No, I don’t suppose you would have.”
You snort at that.
“You’re a dork you know that?”
“Your dork,” he echoes back.
You hum at that before pulling your lover into a soft kiss.
Your dork, your alien, your person.
Your everything.
That’s it!! Thank you all for reading. Thinking about turning this into a mini series but let me know what you think on @linosnoot or in the comments!
Special thanks to all of the authors of the monster fics I’ve read for inspiring me to write this! 🤍
Please remember to reblog and leave a comment if you like this so that others can enjoy it as well! Even two words would be enough to make my day <3! Enjoy!
I love it I love it I love it I love it!!! Ugh this was so so good!! The passion! The emotion! Everything about it was so beautiful🌟 AND JISUNG oh my gosh his alien form sounded so so pretty!!! Picturing it in my mind was- ugh it was so- he's gorgeous is all I can say really! I wish he were real😔❤️🩹
Please I love these two so much! I could almost feel the love pouring out of my phone screen💔 Jisung's nervousness was so cute! He's so so precious omg😭 I loved how they could joke even in between the heat of it all, it just adds another layer to how much they love each other, feel safe with each other, trust each other and ugh it makes my heart so so so so so happy 💘💘💘💘
Gentle winds rustle under her feathers. The pristine white almost glowing in the sun. An angel soared high above the clouds, her wings spread wide, catching the golden light of heaven. Each feather gleamed pristine and white, untouched by the sins of the world below. Her halo burned with a soft glow above her head, a symbol of purity.
But deep inside her, guilt gnawed. She had broken the laws she was sworn to uphold. A sin so grave the heavens themselves turned cold to her.
A thunderclap roared across the sky. The light around her flickered and dimmed. Her wings, once strong, stiffened. She gasped as an invisible force seized her body.
Then she fell.
The air screamed around her as she plummeted, her body twisting violently, her wings plucked from the force, becoming a rain of white. Her halo, once her pride, fractured with a ringing crack, piercing her skull. Shards of light plunged into her, spearing bone and flesh. Blood spilled across her face, the soft glow drowned in crimson. The fragments twisted outward and burrowed deeper, warping into jagged horns grotesque, blood-slick replacements for her crown. Blood poured in rivulets across her perfect face as the golden light dimmed until it went a black cold to the touch.
Her scream was guttural, you could of sworn her soul was torn apart.
As the earth approached to meet her, her spine arched unnaturally. Until, it snapped, the bones split through her lower back. It teared muscle and shredded flesh,. A long, whip-like tail burst free, blood dripping from its raw, exposed tip. Her tail uncoiled from the ruin, long with a heart shaped tip. Her wings now just flesh and bone, curling, leaving behind twisted bone and mangled flesh that slowly fell off in chunks.
The heavens turned their face away, and the world below trembled.
And then silence.
She struck the earth in a ruin of wings and bone, the ground cradling her broken form. The glow that once clung to her fingertips flickered, sputtered… and died. Heaven no longer saw her.
She reached out weakly, trembling, as if the skies might still take her hand. But the sky was empty. The voice of God was gone.
Her horns weighed down her head. Her tail lashed, twitching like a cruel reminder of what she had become. Around her, the soil soaked up her blood.
No light. No warmth. No welcome.
She had been remade into a form of exile.
And so she wept in the dirt, alone.
No longer angel but not yet demon by heart.
Intead, a tragedy clothed in flesh.
📱can't remember where the line was. can you? (Part 5) [END]📱
GIF by kpopfeeds
☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️
Part 4
genre: non idol au, fake dating, friends to lovers, smau
pov: 1st or 2nd person (depending on how you view it)
description: hwang hyunjin fucked up. he promised the woman he's talking to that their first date would be a double date with one of his couple friends to make her comfortable. the problem? all of hyunjin's friends are single. but you and your best friend han jisung are close enough to pass as one, right? can the two of you manage to pretend to be a couple without blurring the lines of your friendship?
CUUUUUUUTE I love besties to lovers Hanji aus dude they heal something in me I swear. He's just soooo bestie coded like being his friend would ebso much fun!! Anyways- this was so so cute and I really adored it! Hyunjin can go pout to his wifey because he's not getting that apology 🤣
