Minsung X Reader - Tumblr Posts

can’t stop won’t stop • minsung

warnings: jisung centric, hard dom jisung (say whaaaaat), minho is lowkey a voyeur in this, degradation, name calling, impact, mentioned orgasm denial, overstimulation, you can’t take it towards the end but you have a safeword, punishment

—————

You’ve fucked up, badly. The moment Jisung told you he isn’t feeling very submissive tonight, you should have known to behave, aware that two dominants versus one brat isn’t a fight you’d win, but you kept pushing. Even when Minho warned you the first time, ordering you to stay still as he pushed into you, you kept pushing. Even when Jisung warned you, your much softer dominant who loves it when you fight back, you kept pushing, kept begging them to do more — begging which turned to demanding, and Minho would have none of it.

“That’s enough, bitch,” he spits as he pulls out. He turns away from you, hand still tight around your neck as he orders Jisung over.

“I already gave her my cock and she still wants to act ungrateful,” he tells him. “So you can fuck her, Jisung. See if you can keep her in her place.”

Jisung smiles, thanking Minho excitedly without sparing you a glance before he’s ordering you to bend over the end of the bed. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s as pissed off at you as Minho is or just trying to prove something to the older man, but the softness you’ve come to associate with your younger boyfriend is nowhere to be found as he stalks over to you with dark eyes. You crane your head around and your eyes meet Minho’s as he lounges in the armchair that was placed at the end of the bed months ago purely for moments like this. The older doesn’t scold you for moving like he normally, just smiles darkly at you before turning his gaze to Jisung, silently challenging him to prove his authority and he does, yanking your head back around by the hair and shoving it into the mattress with one hand while the other comes down on your ass, hard.

“Already fucking squirming and I’ve not done shit yet,” he growls, slapping you again until your skin is tingling. “I don’t need to get one of Minho’s paddles, do I?”

You whine, shaking your head at the idea. Those paddles are by far Minho’s most painful tools, only used at his angriest; the holes drilled into them make their impact much harder and years of practice have made him fucking lethal with them. Jisung’s never used them on you, usually more than content to watch with sympathy whenever Minho does and thank his lucky stars that it’s you instead of him. In fact, the younger has only spanked you with something other than his hand once, and for someone so whiny and babyish when with the older man, he hit with a shocking force that you definitely don’t want to experience again.

“No, sir,” you say.

Your muffled voice makes him laugh, pulling your head up from the mattress. “What was that?” He asks.

“No, sir,” you repeat. Satisfied, he finally releases your hair, patting you gently on your stinging ass.

“I hope not,” he says. “Stay still and I won’t have to, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

He slides in easily — embarrassingly easily, actually, considering his size, and he laughs. “You’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles. “That desperate for dick, are you?”

You whine almost insolently as he starts to move, slow thrusts quickly morphing into fast, hard pounds. You cry out, reaching to grip the sheets and curling them in your fingers. Each thrust is harder and more brutal than the last and you’re certain your cervix will be bruised tomorrow. “S-sir,” you choke out, “can’t… can’t take it.”

Jisung snorts, still a brat even while he fucks you into another plane of reality. “I don’t fucking care, bitch,” he barks almost gleefully. “I decide when this stops, not you.”

Your cries increase, hopeless and delighted. You’re so delirious at this point that you almost forget the presence of your other boyfriend, who sits stoically in his chair, watching Jisung pound you.

“Rub her clit some more, Sungie,” he orders, eyes fixed on your neglected nub. “Needs some attention.”

Jisung nods but you whine, frustrated by your other boyfriend, looming over you but not touching. “Master, can’t you?” You ask softly.

Jisung stills inside you instantly, nearly giving you whiplash with how quickly his hard thrusts cease. You whine again and he reaches up to slap you in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me, whore?” He growls. “I’ve got your cunt stuffed full and that’s still not enough for you?”

He slaps you again, expression dark and you open your mouth wordlessly, unsure how to respond and even Minho looks slightly awed at your much softer boyfriend being so mean to you. He’s never spoken to you like this — never. “Oh dear,” he says. “Even little Jisung’s mad at you now.”

“Yeah, I am,” Jisung snaps. “I’m sick of her slutting around like this and not even pretending to be grateful for what she gets.”

You’re almost crying at his words but Minho looks positively elated; he never expected Jisung to be so firm with you, though he’s been saying from the off that this is what your bratty ass needs. Looks like he’s got his wish.

“I’m not ungrateful,” you sob, shaking your head in distress at your disappointed dominants. “Just want Master to touch me too.”

“That’s too bad,” Minho sighs, “Because you’re Jisung’s right now, and I don’t get the feeling he’ll be giving you what you want tonight.”

You groan, nuzzling your head into the sheets. You never thought you’d be wishing Minho hadn’t given you to Jisung. Quietly the older backs away from you, catching Jisung’s attention for a minute.

“Jisung,” he mutters. “She’s not as tough as you, so don’t break her.”

Jisung softens slightly, gaze shifting from you, fucked out and writhing desperately on the bed, to his boyfriend and he nods. “Yes, Hyung.”

Minho smiles softly at him, patting him on the back before returning to the chair, sharp gaze back on you. You’re full on crying now, tears of frustration wetting your face as you try weakly to move around on the cock still in your pussy and the attempt is so pathetic that Jisung doesn’t even scold you for it, just presses your hip down with his hand and softly kisses your sweat-soaked hair. “You’re such a bad girl, baby,” he whispers, so fond it almost sounds like praise.

“Please, Sir,” you say weakly. “M’ so sorry, please do something.”

Taking pity on you, he slowly starts to move again, but his grip on your hip is firm and bruising enough that you know he hasn’t forgotten your insolence as he speeds up. By now you’re deeper into subspace than you’ve been in months, eyes rolled back into your head, unaware of anything but the feeling of Jisung fucking you and the sound of his voice as he coaxes you towards your orgasm. He lands a series of slaps on your thighs as you approach your high and you do your best to lift yourself up, pushing your body back against him to be as close as possible when your orgasm approaches. After an endless build up, it happens quickly, when he presses his thumb against your clit and you lose yourself instantly, screaming through your orgasm. When it’s over you go limp, collapsing exhausted in Jisung’s arms but to your horror he keeps going, holding you up against him as his thrusts continue.

Dread hits you as you quickly realise why Jisung had let you cum so easily and intensely — denial, which you’d expected and prepared yourself for, is Minho’s punishment of choice, not Jisung’s. No, Jisung, much more inclined to tease and much cockier than your more serious dominant, prefers for you to orgasm endlessly. The memory hits you of the last time he did this; the exhaustion and pain as he forced another orgasm out of you, passing out into Minho’s arms when your sixth orgasm finally pushed you past your limit, and as you realise exactly what’s coming for you now all you can do is sob.

In the aftermath of your first orgasm everything feels more intense, your whole body sensitive from its release and he uses that to his advantage, continuing to tease your aching clit as the thrusts speed up. You’re near delirious now, too weak to hold your own head up and it’s making him feral, the way he fucks into you truly animalistic, like a dog in a rut.

“Sir,” you sob over and over, the only word you can think of. “Sir, no more.”

He slows slightly, ceasing the slaps against your thigh and leans down to your ear. “Colour?” He whispers.

You’re almost ashamed of how quickly you answer. “Green.”

You feel him smile into the skin of your neck, proud and sinister.

“Then I’m not done with you yet.”

—————

a/n: based on my 100% real and legitimate experience as minsung’s gf (ITS REAL DO NOT @ ME) hope u enjoyed this tho fr… just trying to do my part ending the minsung famine on here. reblog & comment if you like! love🖤🖤

Freakin adorable! I need more!!!

⁎⁺˳✧༚  tin lover lee minho x reader x han jisung

summary: minho's exhausted. jisung's exhausted. you're their safe haven and hyunjin needs to get off the sofa and let you sleep.

word count: 1.3k words

author's note: this is entirely thanks to @lyramundana!! she barged into my DMs with these soft thoughts and I literally dropped everything to write them out into this little thing. so give her all the love!!!! title based on this song by the paper kites that nearly made me pass out while I was writing this lol

warnings: none! literally only swearwords! may writes fluff?! unheard of

skzms' masterlist

The door clicks shut behind Minho, and he stops, listens.

He can hear Hyunjin talk in the living room and then a gentle, familiar, laugh. You. Thank god.

His limbs ache. His eyes are dry from the make-up remover they used at music core, and yet he’s so tired that his eyes water every time he yawns. He didn’t even think twice when his driver asked where to go, just gave him the address of the 3racha dorm. At worst, he would pass out in Jisung’s bed until the latter came home at the crack of dawn and cuddled up to him. At best, and this is what he was secretly hoping for, he’d find you.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but if you hadn’t been there, he might have cried. Just a little bit. Just from the exhaustion. He’s so fucking exhausted.

He toes his shoes off, but nearly topples over, his hand shooting up to catch himself against the wall with a quiet curse. Dragging himself down the corridor, he tries to blink his bleary eyes back into focus. When he enters the living room, both you and Hyunjin look up. Your eyes are soft, so soft. You love him. Thank god.

He mumbles a hello and tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He drops his bag by the door and slinks over to you, nudging Hyunjin over slightly so he can plop down between the two of you. Then, he lets himself collapse into your chest with a sigh. He tries tucking his feet up onto the sofa but, ah, right, Hyunjin. Minho briefly considers telling him to leave, but the thought of having to string so many words together is too exhausting to even entertain. So he settles for digging his socked toes into Hyunjin’s leg until he yelps and scoots back enough, so Minho fits into the gap. Hyunjin lets out an undignified huff, but still takes his feet and puts them in his lap. That’s not too bad either, Minho feels.

Then he finally lets himself relax into you.

Minho takes a deep breath, and he doesn’t realise how you and Hyunjin have fallen entirely silent ever since he walked through the door. He doesn’t open his eyes to see Hyunjin give you a ‘what is this?!’ look, and he doesn’t see you shrug.

You smell like you. Not the fresh out of the shower you, but the smell of you after you’ve worn the sweater all day, thrown your favourite coat over it. The smell of the perfume you spritzed in the morning lingers, smells better now that it’s fused with you. You smell like home.

“Min, do you wanna go to bed?” your voice reaches him through the fog. He has to exercise what feels like superhuman effort just to shake his head before he nuzzles further into your chest. You’re so warm. The edges of his consciousness go fuzzy as he sinks and sinks and sinks further into your warmth. Your hand is carding through his hair, nails dragging against his scalp every now and again, and if he was Soonie, he’d purr. Fuck it, he’d purr for you now if he could. But that would take effort. He’s distantly aware of you and Hyunjin resuming your conversation by the vibrations of your chest, the little jerks when you giggle.

You can feel Minho’s body grow heavier and heavier in your arms with every passing second as you try to listen to Hyunjin’s explanation of how he had picked the medium for the three pieces he’s painting for Jeongin for Christmas. You look down, and your heart does a little flip.

Minho’s eyes are shut gently, his cheek smushed against your shirt. His mouth is slightly open, plump top lip exposing the upper row of his teeth as he breathes deeply. He looks so relaxed and calm, and you can’t help but hug him just a little bit closer. You would keep him this close, this safe forever and ever, if you could.

Hyunjin keeps looking down at Minho and gives you that look of his, the one you’ve started to call his “what spell do you have them under?” look, but he keeps talking, absentmindedly petting Minho’s legs that are now in his lap, tugging up his socks, pulling down the elastic of his sweats so they’re snug over his ankles. When Hyunjin’s fingertips brush over the sole of his foot, Minho jerks slightly, lets out an unhappy mewl and kicks Hyunjin right in the side. You giggle. So much for soft, sleepy Minho. Hyunjin glares and sticks out his tongue at Minho’s sleeping form, which makes you giggle.

Minho had just settled down again when the front door slams shut and he jumps slightly. You wonder which member of 3racha you had to thank for disturbing your boyfriend this time.

But when Jisung appears in the doorway, beanie pulled deep into his forehead, bottom lip sticking out as he blinks at you blearily, your anger melts away. He’s slumped over tiredly, looking tiny in his oversized hoodie, and you pat the spot behind you.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops his bag next to Minho’s haphazardly and flops down behind you, plastering his chest against your back with a happy sigh. Blindly, he reaches around you to grab your hand, where it’s resting on Minho’s arm, threading his fingers with yours gently. He looks down at Minho with a soft smile.

“He’s drooling,” Jisung notes and yawns.

You just shrug halfheartedly. “I know”.

Jisung just nods pensively, before he squishes his cheek against the back of your neck and takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut.

When you look back at Hyunjin, he makes an exaggerated pouty face at you before giving you another one of the Looks. You just shrug, but you can’t pretend like your heart is not on the verge of exploding with all the love you feel for the two boys clinging to you.

“They barely even acknowledged me, how rude,” Hyunjin sasses, and you roll your eyes with a smirk.

“He gave you his feet, you should feel honoured,” you say, nodding to Minho’s legs, “he’s way too ticklish to give those to someone he doesn’t trust.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow and dramatically pretends to tickle Minho’s feet, and you laugh. You knew he would never do it, much too soft – and too attached to his life to wake Minho up.

When a quiet snore sounds behind you, Hyunjin sighs, gently moves Minho’s legs from his lap and gets up.

“Let’s talk again some other time,” he says quietly, grimacing at where Jisung is now also drooling on your back, “I think you have some boys to put to bed.”

Minho’s leg kicks out vaguely into Hyunjin’s direction, but he misses by a mile, unsurprisingly when his eyes are still shut.

“I’m not a fucking child,” he mumbles against your chest, but it’s barely intelligible.

Hyunjin giggles and shakes his head again, but you can see the fondness in his eyes. He pats your head and mumbles, “I’ll call you.” But before he can turn around to leave, Jisung’s hand shoots and grabs his arm

“Where’s my good night kiss, Hyunjinniieee,” Jisung slurs out and puckers his lips, his eyes already closed again. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but actually leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead, which makes Jisung squeak. He smiles at you and gives you one, too, before ducking down to Minho.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Minho grumbles out without moving, but Hyunjin just laughs and presses an obnoxiously loud smooch into Minho’s hair before he leaves the room in the direction of his painting room.

You yawn quietly as you gently let your head tip back to rest against Jisung’s. You don’t want to get up. Maybe you can stay here, just for a minute …

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

taglist: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148 @caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector @stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut @warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti @hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows @ayoitschannie GENERAL TAGLIST OPEN 🔖 (please be 18+ and have your age in your bio, otherwise I won't add you)

Scars To Your Beautiful

Pairings: Lee Minho x Han Jisung x 9nth member! Amab! Reader

Genre: Angst, friends to lovers

Synopsis: You are the one that every members praised for being strong, for your unshakable optimism. You were the one that usually helped the other's out. You were the one that they considered as the shoulder they could always cry on. But how do they react when their strong and brave members becomes the shell of the man he usually was? When he's the one that needs a shoulder to cry on?

Warnings: !!SA!! (Talk about it, mention the use of a blindfold but don't go into the details.) !!MDI!!

Words: 2.2K

A/n: English isn't my first language, so there's risks of mistakes for the use of a word or how to write it. I'm not a professional author, I'm just writing as a hobby in my free time. And yes, if I keep on posting, there are high chances that I continue abording heavy topics like this one. I use the subject about S.A, I don't think I used it badly, but I apologize in advance if I was in any way offensive about it.

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Chapter 1- Secret's out.

As an Idol, you had to be happy the second there was a camera was pointed toward you. It's part of the job.

At first, you didn't worry about, you are a person that likes smiling and laugh around. The Stays called you, along with Felix and Jisung, 'The Sunshine Triplets'.

But these days, you lost all that sparkly energy your fans and friends always loved. You have been quieter that you've ever been, of course the boys noticed, but they thought it was just the pressure of the job that was getting to you.

That wasn't it at all. A couple weeks ago, you were sexually assaulted. And you didn't tell anyone, deciding that you'd keep it for yourself. To avoid being a burden for the group.

But that decision led to your negative thoughts taking over any rationnal ones.

Looking happy became straining. You masked your pain and doubts, became the perfect Idol everyone thought and expected you to be.

The nine of you were sitting in a living room, on live with any Stays that were available to attend, but you kept on spacing out.

You thought no one would notice, but Minho saw right through you. "Come on," he says in his usual annoyed tone, taking your hand in his, dragging you along with him.

You hum and follow him, still lost in your thoughts.

He stops when he's in a place where no one could see you or hear you two talk. He lets go of your hand before turning around to face you. "What's going on? You've been spacing out since the beginning of the live." He crosses his arms, staring at you in the eyes, seeking for an answer.

"Huh?" You ask, finally concentrating on what's in front of you. "What was that Min'? Sorry, I was thinking." You let out a small laugh.

Minho doesn't wait and grab your hands, squeezing them gently. "Look," he breathes in and gives you a small smile. "You keep on spacing out since the beginning of the live, you're not that bad usually. Tell me what's wrong. Please?"

You tense and force a smile on your lips. "Just a little insomnia Min'! Nothing that I haven't dealt with before!" You laugh it off.

Minho looks at you with a annoyed expression and sighs. "Stop making excuses, please. There's more happening and we both know that. Don't lie to me, you know I won't judge you, no matter what it is."

The calm, but direct words coming out of Minho's mouth makes you freeze. You turn around, trying to walk back to the boys, ignoring Minho's question. The boy understands soon enough what you're trying to do and grabs your wrist, stopping you from walking away. He makes you turn around so that you face him. "Don't avoid my questions. I just want to help you." He sighs. "How am I supposed to help you if you won't tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm not answering anything that I don't wish to answer. Let me go." You say in a sharper tone then expected, trying to move your arm away from his hold.

"Answer me and I will." He shrugs, tightening his hold slightly. "Stop avoiding and answer, it'll be easier for both of us this way."

When you feel the hold tighten around your wrist, you let out a small cry of pain, you try to get away from his hold, avoiding harsh moves, careful to not hurt yourself more. You hear a small intake of breath coming from Minho before he loosens his hold.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on? Spit it out." He groans. "You know that I don't like when you act like that, I'm here to help Y/nnie." He says with a harsh tone, but his thumb betrays his real feelings as he rubs it against your wrist as if you were made out of glass.

Even though the touch was gentle, the pain was still there. You hiss, placing your free hand on his, pushing it away. Tears are filling your eyes, blurring your vision.

The instant Minho sees the tears in your eyes, his hard and stern expression falls. You can easily see the guilt taking over his features. "Shit." He curses under his breath, "I'm sorry, I didn't know I was holding that hard, sorry." He lets go of your wrist, choosing to grab your hand instead in a delicate hold. He brings your arm up, trying to look for any signs of injuries left because of him.

You try pulling down your sleeve when he places his attention to your wrist, trying to hide the marks that are hidden not that higher on your arm. Of course, the man notices and squeezes your hand tighter. "Let me see." He says in a concerned tone. He places his hands ever so gently on your forearm to lift the sleeve up.

You, on the other hand, started to hyperventilate in panic of him actually seeing what was hidden. You wouldn't accept looking weak in front of your group, your members that always said you were the strong one. "N-no! Minho don't-" Your voice get stuck in your throat, you close your eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Minho's eyebrow furrowed. But the second he saw your panicked state, his eyes widened. You can see that the realized that this was a subject way more serious than he originally thought. "Hey, slow your breathing down, Y/nnie." He murmurs. "Follow mine," he instructs. "Inhale," he takes a deep breath in. "Hold it two seconds for me, and exhale." He puffs the air out.

You look at him panicked, hissing at the pain that you’re feeling now in your entire arm. You silently follow his breathing as you try to pull away and wince when you feel the pain it’s causing. You stay still and look at your arm, not daring to look at the boy standing in front of you. The tears are finally rolling down your cheeks, but your breathing has returned to normal.

The dancer sighs, pushing your sleeve higher. You stop moving your arm around, but you’re more tense than you’ve ever been around him.

Minho could now see the entire length of your arm, covered in bite marks, scratches and there was an imprint that was now purple, shaped like a hand, close to the place he was previously holding. You look at the floor, not ready to face his expression and stay still.

You flinch when you feel his fingers tracing over your wounds and take in a sharp breath. Finally drifting your gaze to him. You could see nothing but pure pain and horror in Minho’s facial expression. You try to say something, but no sound wanted to come out.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He utters under his breath. 

The silence takes over you two, you could hear the boys still talking in the background, trying to keep the entertainment for the Stays, even though two of their members went missing from the video.

“Minho,” you break the silence with a small and vulnerable voice. “Stop it now.” You take in a sharp breath. “I’ve had enough, please.” 

The boy just let out a broken pained sound, not letting go of your hand. You could see that he was feeling guilty, and that’s what you didn’t want. Everything but that. You were about to say something, but Minho looks at you, the sight breaks your already sore heart. He sees your tears, he lets go of your arm and apologizes.

You back up until your back hits the wall and let out a small breath. You knew that thousands of questions were running freely in his head. But he kept silent. You take that opportunity to slide down the wall, sitting down on the floor, trying to calm yourself down for the upcoming conversation you won’t be able to escape. You find yourself hugging your bent legs, chin on your knees.

“Who..?” Minho asks, looking everywhere but you. 

“I knew only one of them,” You nod, scolding yourself internally for already saying that it wasn’t only one that caused your bruises. “And you know only one of them too.” Your voice was broken, but you didn’t let that stop you. He was right, he needed to know what happened. All of the boys did. 

You look at his reaction and smile sadly when you see him tense. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your eyes drift to the boys again and keep your gaze on them as you prepare yourself to let out the words you never thought you’d say one day. You swallow down the lump lodge in your throat before pronouncing the words in a fake careless tone. “I was raped, three weeks ago.”

You can’t see Minho, not ready to face him, but hear his breath quickening. Then there’s some ruffling sounds, before there’s a weight on your left shoulder, Minho’s hair tickles your cheek and neck, his hand hovers one of yours, delicately grabbing it and bringing it to his mouth. His lips tremble as he presses a kiss to the heel of your hand before placing it against his chest.

A small, sad smile forms itself on your lips when you feel his mouth against your palm. That was a thing he always did when he wanted to comfort you, when he was at a loss of words. A silent way of saying that he cared about you and that he’ll stay by your side whenever you needed him.

The slow beating of his heart is bringing you peace and you rest your head on top of his. You shift your weight slightly so that you can lay against him. You move your hand that he was holding so that your fingers could interwine with his.

“You know,” You whisper and clear your throat to keep your voice steady. “I was preparing dinner for you boys when it happened.” You turn your head to look at him. “I asked, y-you know, Eric to help me out.” You stutter slightly but continue, “at first, nothing was weird. I mean, it’s just a friend helping a friend, right?”

Minho squeezes your hand, letting you know that he was there and to take your time. His gaze focused on the side of your face.

“Then you boys called me to say that you’d come home later due to JYP wanting you to train longer. I made the mistake of telling Eric about it.” You swallow thickly. “It’s like he had already planned everything," You bark out a forced laugh, "he just grabbed my waist, pulling me into the living room and opened the door to let two of his friends in.” You murmur. “One of them blindfolded me, and then…” You stay silent, not able to say the next words.

“Y/nnie, I-”

“Please don’t apologize.” You cut him off. “Can we talk about the rest later…?” You ask in a calm tone, your eyelids getting heavy. You lean against the boy a little more until you could place your head against his chest. “Feel so sleepy, haven’t slept in days.” you admit, “feel safe here.” You mutter before slowly drifting to slumber.

_____________

Minho’s P.O.V

He brings his free hand to your head, playing with your hair in a soft touch, humming a song. He looks at the rest of his group, sitting on a couch and talking to the fans, smiling softly.

The boys bid their goodbyes to Stays, waiting for the live to end before rushing to both of you with concerned gazes. Minho raises the hand that is on your head, places his index finger against his lips.

With difficulty, he unties his other hand from your tight grip, watching you intensely to see if you showed any signs of waking up. He takes his phone and texts the boys to make sure their voices won’t wake you.

Min I won’t speak for Y/nnie.  Min But he isn’t feeling well at all. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready. So don’t shower him with questions when he wakes up.

The boys all look at their phone and frown at Minho’s messages. Chan was about to say something, but the second oldest just shakes his phone, point in it with his free hand.

Channie Alright, I believe your judgment Min. Sungie Okay, do you want me to pick him up to get him to the car, hyung?

Minho smiles softly at the younger boy's offer and nods slowly. Jisung bends down to your level and picks you up slowly, cradling your head to his shoulder. 

Minho gets up and looks at the boys that were staring at your shape with confusion and concern all over their faces. Seungmin looks at him with tears in his eyes, Minho smiles sadly and opens his arms. Seungmin doesn't hesitate to hug him tightly. The boy knew deep down that Seungmin was as observant as he was himself. So if he had a doubt of what really happened to you, Seungmin just got his proof that he was right on the option he dearly hoped was wrong.

“Come  on puppy, we got to go now,” Minho says, his voice wavering. He wanted to stay strong for the younger ones, trying to pass on the message that everything was going to be fine. But how was he supposed to make the other believe it, when he wasn’t even sure himself?

----------------------

Thanks for reading!

Now that this series has concluded, I need to reblog this again.

This is really and truly so well written and explores a lot of human emotion.

It's a long read, but oh so worth it. I'm sure I'll be back to read it again

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall masterlist

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

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!!

🔖 series taglist closed! general taglist open!

series taglist: @drunkewok @fixation-dump @badmaeda @luminouskalopsia @leetoes @leeknowyah @pynchkilledme @cotton-candycloudz @devilsmatches @notevenheretbh1 @jamlessstars @kiaralynn3838 @kayleefriedchicken @adorepjw @miss-fallon @emmxxsworld @ot8girlfie @opfop @moonlightndaydreams @chaeryred @skzswife @lac3ybow @kkamismom12 @itsseohannbin

🥵🥵🔥🔥🔥

Hey I love your imagines

U saw your Minsung as possessive bodyguards and just wanted to know your thoughts about the same bodyguards and their reaction when a guy breaks Fem! Reader heart.

I'm so glad you like them! They're mostly product of random scenarios that pop in my head for no reason during the day and I have to write them down. And Minsung as your sexy bodyguards? That's a hella sexy concept I couldn't resist.

Well, the answer to your question is easy: They'll break his face

At first it was just a job for them. Reader wasn't the first person they had to protect, or the second. She was just another rich young girl in their eyes that have been sheltered all her life. But as they got to know her better, they found themselves growing very fond of her. And when fondness turned into something deeper, the sense of possessiveness followed quickly and they didn't try to fight it. It was natural that they were drawn to her, spending their whole days just following her around and looking after her. What else could happen when faced with such a sweet, delightful girl for them to care for, to protect?

They were used to hear her talk about her daily life. Her friends, her dreams, her problems. They made an extensive list of the people they didn't like to shield her from them or straight up eliminate them from her life. In their eyes, no one was truly worthy of Reader's love but them. They knew they couldn't purse her, that this kind of relationship was forbidden, but it didn't prevent them from fantasizing. And so when Reader first mentioned a boyfriend, they had to grasp unto every bit of self-control to not snap. The though of someone else being with her crushed them, but seeing her so happy made them re-think their choices. So, they swallowed their defeat and decided to do what they always did: Support her.

So when she came at them crying, the sight of her pretty eyes filled with tears crushing them, and told them what the boy did, oh boy, they were mad. As their embraced her in their arms, soothing her the best they could, their minds were already formuling a plan to teach that bastard a lesson. They allow that past to court their girl, to win her heart, and this is what he does?? This is the first time they break the rules for a client's personal life. When Reader is resting in her home, they track down the boy and corner him. The size of these two muscular, very angry-looking men is enough to rip his soul out of his body, but he's not fast enough to escape. They're bodyguards after all, they're trained in strenght, weapons and speed. The boy stood no chance.

Reader never saw him again, but she moved on quickly. After all, she had her wonderful boys to take care of her and they made her much more happier. She doesn't need to know the lenghts they're willing to go to stay in her life.

Sobbing rn

Seungmin holding drunk Jeongin, I literally felt my heart break…and then Seungmin’s speech had me BAWLING MY FUCKING EYES OUT WTF

I’m so glad that fucker Yujun is dead

OMFG WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED WHEN SKZ GAVE MIN A HUG

UGHHHH AND THEN OMFG I can’t even rn- bye imma cry THIS IS THE BEST SKZ FIC IVE EVER READ, not cuz it’s smut not cuz it’s skz, just cuz it’s insanely well written, the plot is amazing, the character development just everything about this fanfic is perfection 😭😭😭🤌🤌🫶

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter XI

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: minho is alive and someone finally gets retribution. it's the start of the rest of their lives

word count: 19k

warnings: violence, blood, evil guy death; drinking; mentions of anxiety and cptsd symptoms (they went through it, okay?); some (unprotected) smut! a happy end <3 yay!

author's note: by all laws of storytelling this chapter is too long, but I could not care less. I wanted some gratuitous sweetness after all the pain. also I thought about splitting this up into another chapter but I figured I tortured you with enough cliffhangers akshdhas so enjoy!! the last official chapter before our epilogue <3 thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. thank you to everyone who commented, who messaged me, who took the time to read <3 thank you for loving my baby <3 it means the world

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter X - interlude >

You meet Felix’s eyes as Changbin shoves him behind him, out of harms way, and there’s nothing but sunshine; tears of joy and a brilliant, blinding smile. He nods at you, as if to say this is exactly what I meant, and you have to fight back a sob.

The thought of everyone else having seen you, what they will think, after all these years, Minho, and your secret barely a secret at all – this and the realisation that Jisung said Minho is alive, the feeling of your whole life spinning out of control, it will have to wait. Because Han Yujun is in there, and there are more guards now. Way more. Ten of them against the maybe eight of you. And these ones look more serious, less like young men with no experience to speak of.

Chan’s eyes are locked onto them already, rolling his shoulders as he readies himself for the fight. Hyunjin has found Jisung’s other side as he cocks his gun, squeezes his arm with a smile, mouthing something to him that looks like a thank god you’re okay.

The first guy approaches and Hyunjin lifts his gun, shoots him point-blank. He sinks to the floor right in front of the next one, that Jisung takes care of just as quickly, swiping at his legs and driving his cutlass into his chest when he crumples to the floor. One goes down from the force of your elbow alone, another falls victim to Felix’s blade, who squeals and turns to Changbin excitedly when he realises he got one. Changbin doesn’t look proud at all, he’s white as a sheet as he tugs Felix back behind him.

Hyunjin strikes another one down with a practised hand and a toss of his hair and his companion drops his weapon, lifts his hands and hightails it down the path toward the gate. Hyunjin watches him, perplexed, then turns to you and raises an eyebrow in question. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. You shake your head.

“Let him go, he’s not worth it. He’ll probably get intercepted by the captain’s men anyway.”

Chan deals with the next two at once, a cutlass in one hand, his short knife in the other. His knife into the one’s throat, his cutlass into the chest of the other. He wipes the bloody blade on his pants as he scoffs.

“If we’d known his men were this shit, we could’ve done this ages ago.”

The last three fall equally easily, and you don’t wait for more to come, push forward until you find yourself in the cool, marble foyer. In here, it’s so quiet it’s almost eery, the noise of fighting only a dull din from somewhere seemingly far away. The house seems mostly abandoned. Though you have a feeling Han Yujun is still here, holed up somewhere, clutching onto hope and all his money that he’ll somehow make it out of this alive. But you know better. You take a second to survey the scene. A hallway to your right, a sitting room with more doors to your left, a stairway right in front of you.

“His office is upstairs,” Jisung offers next to you. You look at him with a question in your eyes, and he nods.

“Changbin, take Felix and check the left wing,” you order, “Hyunjin, Chan, take the right. Someone else check the basement, and as many of you as possible find all the exits and guard them. Han Yujun can’t escape us today. Jisung and I will check upstairs.”

Changbin takes Felix’s hand, mumbles something to him about staying behind him, before he makes his way down the hallway. Hyunjin salutes you quietly, and he and Chan enter the sitting room with their weapons drawn. Two of your crew stay by the front door, the rest of the group disperses.

You look at Jisung, meet his gaze where it’s already locked onto yours. It makes sweet adrenaline rush through your veins. You motion for him to follow you upstairs and hurry up the stairwell, taking two steps at a time.

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight again, you’re dead wrong,” you mumble, and he chuckles behind you, bright and airy and happy, and it makes you stop at the top of the stairs, turn around in shock. Something heavy squeezes your chest because, of course, Minho isn’t there, but it’s soothed over by Jisung’s beautiful, radiant smile. And there is hope. You can’t help but feel it, despite it all.

“Don’t ever let me out of your sight again, please,” Jisung chirps, hurries up to meet you, wraps his muscular arms around your waist and pulls you in, “I’m way too in love with you for that.”

Butterflies, in your stomach, so many that you can barely breathe – in the middle of the biggest fight of your entire life, on the day you started thinking everyone you loved was dead, when you were prepared for this day to be your last. Jisung giggles sweetly, pulls you closer against his strong chest, presses wet hot lips in the shape of a smile against the side of your neck. He’s the most magical, most insane, most lovable person you’ve ever met, and you realise now that you’ll never be the same again.

A guard spots you, then, yells, comes barreling down the hallway. Jisung doesn’t hesitate. He unfolds himself from you casually, parries two of his opponent’s attacks before he sinks his cutlass into him, and he slumps to the ground.

“Where were we?” he asks, giddily, eyes sparkling with mischief as he stalks up to you, crowds you against the wall until his breath is on your face.

“Jisung, we can’t be messing around. Not today,” you breathe, though your eyes are glued to his lips, no doubt betraying every ounce of your blind, desperate want. Damn him.

“There’s no way we aren’t winning today, captain,” he purrs, smiles again, brushes his lips against yours in a breath of a kiss, “there’s nowhere for him to run. So let’s have some fun.”

And you’re about to give in, let him kiss you breathless in your arch enemy’s house, but fate has a different plan. Five more of Han Yujun’s men come barrelling down the hallway and this time, much to your chagrin, you have to fight in earnest. One of them catches your arm, adds a second cut to the one already there, and it drives tears into your eyes. But you don’t stop, wave away Jisung’s concerned look, focus on fighting your way down the hallway and manage to kill the last one right before it forks.

Your breath is coming out in short bursts as you gather your bearings. Your arm aches, your lungs burn. You have the choice now, between left and right. Right leads you down a hallway with few doors, at the end of which there’s an open glass door that leads out to a French balcony that’s facing out into the garden, curtains billowing in the wind. The other direction leads deeper into the house, culminating in two heavy oak doors, very similar to the ones in Trott’s house.

“That’s his office,” Jisung comments with a nod towards the ominous doors. You nod and realise that this is really it. You wonder if you’ll still be able to do what needs to be done when it comes down to it, now that Jisung is alive. But you have to. For them.

You look at Jisung, give him a tense smile.

“Shall we?”

Jisung smiles, then his face pulls into the pout of determination you know and love so well. He extends his hand, takes yours, and you make your way down the hallway.

Suddenly, a thump sounds behind you, then a curse and a voice that you would recognise anywhere, anytime.

“Sung–“

The call of Jisung’s name is cut off. Your heart stops, and for a painful second, you wonder if it will give out.

You’re frozen where you are, unable to turn around. You can’t face it, you can’t be wrong. You wouldn’t survive it. You’re distantly aware of Jisung’s worried eyes on you, his gaze flicking between you and …

“Y/N?” Minho says, and there’s no longer any doubt in your mind.

You turn around slowly, your ears ringing as you let your eyes drag over the carpet and up and up, until you see him.

Minho. It’s undoubtedly him. Breathing. Shaky. Alive. His old, brown leather boots with the big silver buckle. Strong thighs in his black pants. A white v-neck shirt you don’t recognise exposing his flushed, heaving chest. Blood on his sleeves, hair swept back like he was in a hurry.

You suck in a breath. One of his eyes is covered with a black eyepatch. But the other one looks at you, the same way he always did. Does.

Your shaky legs move towards him. He doesn’t approach you, just stares, his eyebrows lifted in an expression that is almost helpless.

You stop a cautious few feet in front of him, like getting any closer would shatter the mirage. But you can see the little birthmark on his nose, smell the unmistakable smell of him, can almost feel him on your skin. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape.

“You’re alive,” you mutter, blink, eyes roving all over his face.

He nods, helplessly, his eyes, his eye glued to yours. So soft. So scared.

“T-the gunshot,” you breathe, but your voice gives out. A tremor wracks through your body, and you see Minho’s hand twitch to reach out, before he drops it again.

“They shot into the sky. They wanted you to think I was dead.”

You let out something between a laugh and a sob, though there are no tears. You feel wrung dry, empty, soulless. Minho shivers. His hand reaches out, again and this time, he doesn’t pull back. He runs a fingertip over the sleeve of your coat. Doesn’t look at you when he forces out his next words.

“I heard you scream.”

You blink, watch his eyebrow twitch, his mouth pulls into a grimace of pain. It’s too much, it’s unbearable. The memory of it, the knowledge of it, the thought of him dead, the weight of every single minute of the last weeks. Now, the fact that he’s here. A flesh and blood reminder of all you thought you lost. It’s too much, it’s too–

“What happened to your eye?” you ask, your voice only a ghost of itself. Minho lifts his head until his gaze finds yours again and punches a breath clean out of you with how much love it holds. Though this time, there’s no more kraken that roars, riots, threatens to burst out of your skin. There’s only honeysuckle sweetness and a longing that you don’t know how you managed to keep locked away for so long.

“The guy got me just right, I think his ring cut my retina,” he shrugs, “pretty sure it’s fucked. But I’ve gotten used to it already, doesn’t hu-”

“I love you.”

You breathe the words into the space between you, and Minho reels back like he has been punched straight in the chest. His next breath comes out in a stutter. He’s so beautiful.

“I’ve always loved you, I think,” it tumbles out of you, unable to stop now that you’ve finally said it.

“Y/N …” Minho chokes out. He takes a step forward, cups your face. His hands are shaking. He’s looking at you, staring into your eyes like he’s searching for something, like he doesn’t quite believe your words. You feel half crazed.

“I do, Min,” you choke out, “I do, I love you. I love you so much. I–“

When he leans in, he doesn’t even have to pull you because you meet him halfway. His lips find yours, trembling as he kisses you so desperately, you gasp into his mouth. Your tongue is heavy with emotion when it tangles with his, kissing him like you’re tasting him for the first time. He pulls back only enough to stare down at you, his trembling breath against your lips.

“I love you, too, baby, oh god, I love you so much,” he forces out the words like they hurt. He looks so disbelieving, so sure yet so unsure, like he doesn’t know how he has found his way here, and you don’t know what to do because he’s alive and breathing and you get another chance, another chance to make it right, another chance you don’t fucking deserve.

You pull him back into your lips and, of course, he matches you perfectly, swallows your desperate whine when you shove him backwards, crowd him against the wall. He takes it, pulls you even closer, buries his hand in your hair, then flips you, so your back is against the wall, tilts your head, kisses you deeper. It’s you and him, it’s just like every other time, except it’s not – because you can finally feel and your poor, broken heart beats to the tune of he’s here, he’s alive, he’s here, he’s alive.

He pulls back when there is no more air, pants against your lips, makes a tortured little sound in the back of his throat as his fingers curl around your neck, dig into the soft skin. He’s blinking rapidly, his mouth open like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out, only a disbelieving huff.

Someone yells outside, there’s a gunshot, then another. The sounds rip through the atmosphere around you and Minho and shatter it like glass, a brutal reminder of where you are, what you have yet to do.

You close your eyes again, just for a moment, basking in the way Minho’s breath fans over your lips, breathing it in greedily. But you can’t help but feel like there’s something missing. Some_one_ missing.

You blink your eyes open and find Jisung where you left him. He’s staring at you, and he looks awed, but he also looks so, so sad, his arms wrapped around himself almost protectively.

“I can leave if you want,” he croaks out, the sound of it tinny and brittle in the big, empty hallway. He takes an uneven step back, closer to the hallway that leads back to the stairs, like he’s ready to run.

Minho sighs softly, leans against you, his thumb softly running up the side of your neck. You don’t need to look at him to understand.

He scoffs at the same time as you reach out your hand.

“Why the fuck would we want that?” you laugh out.

Jisung’s shoulders fall, he sniffles, and then he’s running up to you, flinging himself into your and Minho’s arms with all his might, burying his face in Minho’s chest and pulling you until you’re both pressed against him, until the three of you are all but squeezed together, in the middle of the hallway in Han Yujun’s house. Over Jisung’s mop of brown hair, you meet Minho’s gaze, and he looks so happy it makes you almost sick with joy. He presses a soft little kiss into Jisung’s hair and Jisung laughs, his shoulders shaking where’s buried between you.

Then he lifts his head, gives Minho a cheeky look, despite the single tear that runs down the pink apple of his cheek that Minho traces with his eye.

“She said it to me first, you know. So at least I have that,” he teases, and Minho blinks at him in disbelief before he barks out a laugh, softly removes one of his hands from you to catch Jisung’s chin between his hands.

“I love you, too, even though you’re a pain in my ass.”

Jisung beams, his whole face splitting into a beautiful heart-shaped smile. He nuzzles his chin further into Minho’s hold, tips his head up happily.

“I love you, too, you grumpy old cat,” he hums, before his expression turns cheeky, “and you wish I would finally be a pain in your ass. I’ll have you know I’m very good at it.”

The sudden laugh that bubbles out of you feels misshapen and odd, like your body is out of practice – but it warms you from the inside and it feels right. More right than anything you have ever felt in your life.

Minho’s gaze is fond and so, so soft as he looks from Jisung to you. But when the sound of a scuffle comes from downstairs, his expression hardens into a regretful scowl.

“We should get this over with,” he hums, blinks at the big doors down the hallway before looking back down at Jisung, then you.

“Be careful, okay? No sudden moves or decisions. We take no risks. If he moves, we pull the trigger.”

Minho waits until Jisung nods, then you. Then he dips down, presses a sweet kiss to Jisung’s lips, then yours. When he pulls back, he momentarily stops, blinks, a quiet kind of disbelief in his pretty eyes. But it disappears as quickly as it came, and he refocuses and steps back.

Jisung unfolds himself from you hesitantly, follows Minho’s eyes to the doors. He swallows.

“There’s a gun in the top left drawer of his desk, so don’t let him reach it,” Jisung explains. His brows are furrowed in concentration.

“In a situation like this, he wouldn’t be alone. Probably has at least one of his closest guards with him, if not two. And they’re ruthless, they won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes. So we need to act fast.” Minho nods, and Jisung looks at you.

“We’ll go in first. Minho, keep your gun drawn. Shoot him if you have to. I’ll go for the guard, if there’s only one, then you can–“

His sentence is interrupted by the faraway crack of a gunshot, the sound of glass shattering, something heavy hitting the floor and a yelp and then the heavy doors at the other end of the hallway fly open and Han Yujun, in all his half-bald, pot-bellied glory nearly falls flat on his face as he rushes out the door – only to be met by the three of you.

Minho moves in the blink of an eye, shoves you half behind him, draws his gun, and Jisung takes the few steps forward needed to block his uncle’s path.

Han Yujun freezes, pales, turns on his heels and makes back for his office and Minho takes off running, closely followed by both you and Jisung.

Han Yujun reaches his office first, tries to rush in and slam the door behind him, but Minho manages to shove his foot in the door just in time. He shoulders it open so hard it sends Han Yujun sprawling on the floor with a scream. Minho is on him within seconds, wrestling him until his face is pressed into the carpet. Yujun puts up a fight, writhes, and resists and spews curses, but Minho is stronger.

“Get off me, you disgusting pirate,” he squeaks, though his voice betrays his fear. He tries to free himself again, and Minho loses his temper. He drives his boot into Han Yujun’s ribs and he howls. Jisung next to you scoffs.

You let your eyes roam around the room, and you don’t have to look far for to find the reason for all the noise and Han Yujun’s panicked flight – a man in his guards’ uniform lies lifeless on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. There’s a neat hole in the side of his head. You leave him where he is. There’s nothing the living can do for him any more.

“Jisung, help me,” Han Yujun wails behind you, and it’s so fake it makes you sick. There’s a dull thud and a groan. You don’t have to look to know that Jisung put his fist into his face.

“Why would I help you?!” Jisung growls.

Behind the big, heavy desk, one of the panels of the windows is shattered. Cautiously, you step closer to the window and when you look down into the garden, behind a stone railing, amidst the bright pink English roses, your eyes meet Sungjin’s. Your former Captain’s best marksman. Of course.

You nearly laugh when he shoots you a smirk and a thumbs up.

By the time you turn around, Minho has managed to tie Han Yujun’s hands behind his back and is hoisting him to his feet. Jisung is watching from where he’s leaned against his uncle’s desk, arms crossed over his chest, a sour look on his face. Minho pulls his gun from his holster and digs it into Han Yujun’s back, hard.

“Let’s take a walk,” he growls and meets your eyes, wordlessly asking you to lead the way.

And you do. You leave the room first, followed by Minho, who’s guiding a bound Yujun with the barrel of his gun. Jisung marks the end of your procession, his hand on his knife, ready to strike any second. The distant sound of fighting all over the carefully kept grounds is still ringing through the eerily empty halls of the house.

Your mind is eerily calm here, right on the precipice of everything you’ve ever wanted.

You meet Changbin and Felix as you descend the stairs. Felix’s eyes go wide when he sees you, his glassy gaze locked behind you.

“Minho,” he gasps, and you think there may be tears in his eyes. Changbin is staring up at the three of you with wide eyes, one hand curled against his rapidly rising and falling chest, like he’s trying to hold it together.

You chance a look behind you, find Minho there, giving them a small smile, though his hands never falter on the gun pressed to Jisung’s uncle’s back, even when Hyunjin and Chan come hurrying down the right hallway and Hyunjin goes white as a sheet when he sees Minho.

As calmly as you can, you motion for them to keep calm, to follow you as you push through the front doors, into the blazing afternoon sunlight. You walk through the courtyard, where the water is still trickling down the fountain, down the path, past the azalea bushes until you’re in the front part of the yard.

There’s fighting going on all around you, clumps of your and the Captain’s men dotted around, fighting Han Yujun’s guardsmen, though their numbers are small, and they are uncoordinated and clumsy. You see some men from the town fighting among the pirates, wild and uncoordinated in their rage, but encouraged and helped along by the pirates. There must be more fighting around the back of the house, the sounds of which have been ringing in your ears this whole time; knives meeting, guns going off.

But you don’t pay any of it any mind. Soon it won’t matter any more.

You allow yourself a moment of melodrama, walk to the centre of the garden calmly, without looking behind you, left or right. But you’re hyperaware of the others behind you, their regular footsteps, and the fighting around you that becomes quieter, the whispering and the people that approach. You can feel their eyes on you when you stop in the centre of the garden, somewhere halfway between the front gate and the courtyard; in perfect view of everyone, both the ones fighting and the gaggle of onlookers that has gathered at the gates, looking in through the tall fences. This feels like a good place for the end of it all.

Hyunjin, Chan, and Felix form a loose circle around you, knives drawn. Jeongin and Seungmin join them. You see your men approach, Minho’s name falling from some of their lips with desperate sighs of relief. The air is electric with tension, anticipation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see your old Captain, Sungjin, more of his crew, some you know and some you don’t.

Minho lets go of Han Yujun pushes him closer to where you’re waiting, before he comes to stand behind you. His presence right there, only an arm’s reach away, soothes you more than you can describe. Jisung makes his way behind you, too, takes the spot on the other side so naturally as if he has always been there.

You feel invincible. You look down at the man below you.

Han Yujun stares at you, tries his best to be intimidating, but he makes a pitiful sight. His thinning hair is badly mussed, exposing his sunburned scalp and the spotty skin of his forehead. His face is pink and flushed and his eyes are small and cold, and they glimmer like a cornered animal’s. His chest heaves with a phlegmy breath. God, he makes you sick.

“Han Yujun,” you finally say. You let the words drop from your lips, calmly, coldly. You have all the time in the world now. “Do you know why you’re here today?”

Han Yujun scoffs, takes his time to look around at his audience, seemingly unfazed that they all stare at him with hatred. The Captain’s face is impassive, though you see it in his eyes. Changbin doesn’t even pretend to hide his disdain. There’s a cold, vicious smile on his face, more hateful than you’ve ever seen him before. But you understand. Han Yujun killed his little sister when she was only a child. Felix by Changbin’s side calmly wraps a hand around his arm.

“A public execution of a government official,” Han Yujun muses, his voice a lot more pompous than you thought he was capable of in a situation like this. He tugs at his restraints, but it’s futile. “You’ll hang for treason!”

He meets your eye, looking much too smug, given that his hands are literally tied behind his back. But you don’t bite, just look back at him steadily, coldly, until he starts fidgeting.

“I’m glad you know you’re going to die, that saves us all a lot of time,” you finally say, a deadly sweet smile on your lips.

Apparently not deadly enough because Han Yujun puffs up, takes a step towards you.

“Well, I can’t believe that really is your plan. I heard a lot about you, captain Y/N, but I never pegged you for a fool,” he singsongs, as he takes another step closer, staring into your eyes so intensely, with such a repulsive curiosity and self-satisfaction, it makes your fingers twitch at the handle of your knife.

“Let’s get me out of these ties, sit down,” he purrs, takes another step, his breath hitting your face now. Nobody dares to move. Changbin looks like he wants to intervene, tries to tug his arm free, but Felix won’t let him. “Maybe we can come to an agreement.”

You stand your ground, bile rising in your throat as he comes closer and closer, but you refuse to budge. Your shoulders are so tense, you start trembling.

He licks his lips, leans in as if to whisper into your ear, but before he can get any closer, Minho barrels past you.

He plants his boot in the middle of Han Yujun’s chest and shoves him so hard he flies backwards a few feet, crashing into the ground with a pained yell.

“You don’t fucking touch her, you understand?” Minho growls, his eye dark with rage as he stalks towards him. He brings his foot down onto Han Yujun’s throat, presses down until the man is gasping and whimpering. “You try something else, and you will meet Davy Jones with none of your limbs attached.”

Nobody dares move because his demeanour leaves no doubt that it’s not an idle threat. Minho throws a look back at you, his eye wild but soft, a quiet question if you’re okay, and you nod. Only then does he let up – but not before crushing his foot harder into Han Yujun’s windpipe, making him writhe and gurgle pathetically.

Minho turns and comes back to you, his arm brushing against yours as he returns to his spot behind you. Han Yujun is coughing and gasping on the floor, trying to regain his breath as he sits up, glares up at you. You wait patiently, every second calculated to allow him enough time to feel every second of your victory.

Han Yujun doesn’t attempt to get up again. You take a step towards him, your face still schooled into calm, but the hands crossed behind your back are shaking, against your will.

“Han Yujun, after we’re done with you, we will go into your house, and we will collect the evidence of everything you have done. Then we will deliver this to the crown, and they will find you guilty, convict you –of not only corruption, of price gauging, drug and human trafficking, prostitution and more, no – you will also be convicted of high treason, trying to stage a coup against the crown. Posthumously, of course,” you add sweetly, with a dangerous glint to your eyes.

Han Yujun’s eyes shake slightly. All around you, except for the sound of distant fighting, there’s silence. Your audience is glued to your lips.

“And then they will thank us. For sparing them having to dirty their noose with your vile, useless body.”

Han Yujun frowns.

“Why do you think you’ll find evidence of anything?”

Jisung on your left scoffs.

“Oh, please,” he laughs. It’s deadly cold. “I know you keep the records of all your above-board dealings in your office, and everything else under the floorboards in the drawing room. Third plank from the bookcase with the replica of the Victory, if I remember right?”

His uncle’s face swells, red rage rising to his cheeks as he glares at Jisung. There’s so much hatred in his gleaming little eyes, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I knew from the day you were born that you would bring shame upon this family,” Han Yujun spits, “I saw that you were a little sissy when you were five. And then you grew up like this, like a degenerate,” he gives him a disgusted once-over, “and I told your father! I told him you’d never grow up to be a real man, would disappoint his entire bloodline, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

Jisung’s breath has gotten ragged, and you feel his intention to move before he even takes a step. You reach your hand out, motioning for him to stay back and to his credit, he does, though the shaky breath he takes in betrays how much it takes him.

“Now look at you. Leading these unwashed, murderous lowlives right to your own family. Do you have any idea how hard we worked to get here? What it took for us to get these positions?”

“I do,” Jisung presses out, his voice trembling with emotion, “I know what it took. Blood. Lies. Deception. Corruption. The destruction of neighbourhoods, the killing and displacing of innocent people. And Appa knew it, too. It’s why he wanted out. It’s why he took the risk. It’s why he’s fucking dead.”

Jisung brushes your hand to the side and takes a step forward. You let him.

“And you piece of shit didn’t do anything. You let them take him. And Eomma, too. Hell, for all I know you told them where to find them,” Jisung yells, drags his sleeve over his face.

His hand finds his holster, and he pulls his gun, cocks it, points it right at his uncle’s head. His breath is ragged, and his body is trembling, but his hand is awfully still. It doesn’t waver from where it’s pointed.

“Captain,” Jisung, addresses you, calmly. There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before.

“Permission to finally put us all out of our misery.”

You let your eyes wander over your audience, your crew, the townspeople, the other crew, familiar and unfamiliar faces, all waiting for the moment this finally ends. Your eyes meet the Captain’s. He holds your gaze.

“Captain?” Jisung asks again, and this time his voice audibly shakes. His other fist is balled at his side.

You can’t let Jisung wait any longer. You let your eyes rest on the back of his head and speak.

“Permission granted.”

A single beat of silence.

Then the gunshot rings clear over the grounds. Han Yujun’s dead body slumps back.

Another beat of silence.

Then the whole yard breaks out into deafening cheers.

It’s so loud, so sudden, so charged that it makes you flinch. You whip your head up to see men hugging each other, Hyunjin running to Minho to envelop him in a hug, the Captain, still looking at you, as calm as a statue surrounded by his cheering men, though there is a small proud smile on his lips. You nod to him and he nods back. It’s enough.

The only person who isn’t celebrating is Jisung. He’s still standing there, staring down at his uncle, his hand, that’s still holding the smoking gun, hanging limply by his side.

You approach him carefully, say his name softly. He barely turns his head. You inch closer, place a careful hand on his back, ever so gently rub it up and down. The muscles underneath your fingertips are so tense, they feel like they’re ready to snap.

“Jisung,” you breathe, low enough for only him to hear, “talk to me. Do you regret it?”

Jisung huffs out a laugh then, shakes his head, turns his head and meets your gaze with his big, beautiful, shining eyes. They’re full of tears. He tries to blink them away, and you wish you could tell him that you meant it when you said you never wanted him to hide them again, that you were ready to love every single one of them.

“God, no, that felt incredible,” he mumbles, wipes at his nose and sniffles, “I just think it’s so unfair that I will have to spend the rest of my life learning to live with what he has done. To everyone … but also to me.”

You hum, rubbing a thumb over the muscles in Jisung’s back soothingly, sliding your hand down until you can wrap your arm around him. He leans into you readily, folds his arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer.

“That’s what we all do every single day, so you’ll be in great company. But we have each other.”

Jisung blinks at you, then looks around, like he’s finally realising the celebration going on. He looks dazed. You squeeze him harder, and he rests his temple against yours.

You can’t help but smile.

“Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your life, Han Jisung.”

Minho watches over Hyunjin’s shoulder, as the captain and Jisung stand over the body of Han Yujun with their arms wound around each other. Hyunjin sobs, a wet, heartbreaking sound, and Minho pulls him closer, soothes his palm over Hyunjin’s narrow back, shushes him quietly.

Then another person wraps himself around his back, then another, and before he knows it, Minho finds himself enveloped by his crew, his friends, squeezing him, some smiling, some sniffling, some laughing and yelling his name in relief.

“Fuck, Min,” he hears Changbin mumble from where he’s wedged between Hyunjin’s back and someone else’s front, his hand coming up to ruffle Minho’s hair, “your eye! We really thought they got you.” Minho tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out right, half wedged in his chest that feels like it’s about ready to burst.

“I couldn’t let that happen, could I,” he jokes, quietly, “who else would take care of all of you idiots.”

Hyunjin chokes out something that’s half sob and half laugh and buries his face in Minho’s neck. Minho can feel his tears wet his skin.

“God, I hate you so much,” he whines, “can’t you just be serious for once?!”

Minho smiles softly, meets Changbin’s eyes again. He pats Hyunjin’s hair.

“Aw, Jinnie, but I am. I’ll always come back to you. You’re all I have.” Hyunjin starts sobbing for real then, and Minho thinks he can even see Changbin blink away some tears. There are more sniffles, whoever is wrapped around his back, he thinks it’s Jeongin, squeezes him harder. From somewhere to the side, he catches Seungmin’s eye, then his fist in his arm.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Seungmin mumbles. It’s obvious that he tries to be stern, but the tear escaping his eye betrays him. Minho grins at him, reaches out blindly to ruffle his hair.

Changbin laughs quietly, wipes at his eyes, before he claps his hands. He mumbles something to the effect of “let’s not suffocate him” and the gaggle around Minho slowly thins until there’s only Hyunjin in his arms, Jeongin plastered over his back. But eventually, even they are pulled away, Hyunjin by Chan, who lets Hyunjin latch onto his arm and hide his splotchy face in his sleeve3, and Jeongin by Seungmin, but not before Seungmin punches Minho’s shoulder again.

Minho doesn’t resist his disappointment when he’s finally free – he allows himself to feel that he could’ve stayed in that embrace for a lot longer.

But he’s also starting to notice the strange pirates loitering around, a tall, older one currently speaking to the captain, Jisung and Felix, who had found his way to them, glued to Jisung’s free side, hands intertwined, like he’s trying to hold on to him now that the captain stepped back. Like Jisung would disappear again otherwise.

Gently, he steps out of the group of his crew, giving them a gentle smile as he makes his way to the captain. She turns around when she hears his footsteps. When her eyes meet his, she blinks, looks a little disoriented for a split second, before her lips pull into a beautiful smile.

“Min,” she exclaims. A pang of love hits him so hard he’s nearly dizzy. It’s their nickname, what she breathes into his lips when he kisses her, what she exclaims with her unfairly sexy annoyed voice when he does something stupid and petty. But she had never, ever used it in public, in front of their crew, in front of a stranger, in front of everyone. He would’ve remembered. God, he would’ve remembered because it would’ve given him so much hope.

“May I introduce you to my captain?”

Her captain. She had mentioned him before, in passing, so briefly she may as well haven’t. And Minho hadn’t pried, had taken all the little pieces she had surrendered to him and built himself his own idea. She had to run, the captain took her in, taught her all she knew, given her her ship. He had imagined him serious, tough. Older, maybe a little brittle. He tries to reconcile this idea with the tall, older man in front of her. He’s dressed in all black and does look strong, and like he can be tough, but he’s smiling. He also wears the same uncanny expression in his intelligent eyes that the captain gets when she’s analysing him.

Minho steps forward, stiffly, tries his best to smile at the man, who studies him carefully. He gives a calculated, stiff bow.

“Lee Minho,” he offers, “the captain’s second in command.”

The tall pirate keeps his eyes on him, bores his gaze into Minho’s and Minho finds himself wishing stupidly, desperately for him to approve of him.

“Recently come back from the dead?”

Minho grimaces, but nods.

“Well,” the strange captain says with a gentle smile, “your crew filled your shoes well while you were gone.”

Minho blinks, but the stranger just laughs. It’s not an unkind laugh, but Minho finds himself bristling against his will. Felix throws him a look. He hates to be reminded of what he missed; The stranger, the captain’s former captain, a whole crew she probably knows, a whole lifetime without Minho, and now also two weeks of her, without him, without Jisung. He hates not knowing what happened, hates that she felt whatever she felt, and he wasn’t there to hold her through it, take some of it onto himself, anything to ease her pain.

The stranger nods at the captain.

“I’ll take my men, and we’ll see what we can find of value in this piece of shit’s house.”

“1542,” Jisung says. The strange captain whips around to him, raises an eyebrow.

Jisung shrugs with a lopsided smirk that is so infuriatingly hot it makes Minho want to kiss it off him. Jisung loops a casual arm around the captain’s waist.

“The combination to the safe in his office. It’s where he keeps most of his gold. There and in the top drawer of the armoire in the master bedroom. It has a false bottom.”

The man regards Jisung for a second, then bellows out a laugh.

“Thank you, Mr Han.”

Jisung grimaces, waves him off.

“Please, just … Jisung.”

The stranger sticks out his hand to Jisung, who shakes it proudly.

“Well, Jisung, I’ll make sure to buy you a drink in thanks later.”

Then, he turns to the captain.

“Because I’m sure there will be a celebration of what you have achieved here today.”

He gives the captain a wink.

“Anyway, you will excuse me.”

The captain nods, bows almost imperceptibly as the stranger walks off, waves to some of his crew to follow him into the house.

As soon as they’re alone, Felix sighs out and turns to the captain, who finds his gaze almost immediately. He watches quietly as Felix and the captain fall into each other’s arms, Felix wordlessly hooks his chin over the captain’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He rocks her back and forth soothingly, rubs a palm over her back, and she squeezes him back almost desperately. The stab of jealousy in his chest comes before he can stop it and remind himself that she … loves him. She loves him.

“It’s over now,” Felix whispers to her, and he sounds happy, but he also sounds … tired. Minho meets Jisung’s eyes, catches him also watching Felix and the captain with big, unblinking eyes.

And even when Felix steps back and the captain smiles at him and calls for the crew so they can make their way into the house – it’s like he suddenly can’t stop noticing how almost imperceptibly, but undeniably, everyone had changed. The bags under Felix’s eyes, the way he looks a little thinner than he did before as he follows behind the captain, who leads them into the house. Right behind Changbin, unshakeable, strong Changbin, who also looks so incredibly tired. Pale and nervous, an edge to his voice when he tells Felix to stay behind him, to be careful, one hand stretched out protectively in his direction, despite the relative safety of the house now that the rest of Han Yujun’s men are long gone, flown into the woods or to the harbour, or slaughtered by the waiting mob.

Hyunjin behind him is still sniffling, and there’s no indication of him stopping. Chan walks next to him, deep bags under his own eyes, his hand ready at the small of Hyunjin’s back as if he’s ready to catch him anytime.

Minho walks right behind the captain, Jisung by his side. He can’t, doesn’t want to allow himself to be any more than a single step behind her at all times. His good eye scans every room, every doorway, every single bend dark corner of the house, laser focused on anything that could possibly go wrong because the mere thought of losing her now … He can’t even bear the thought.

I love you, Min. The words play in his head over and over again, her voice so broken, yet so gentle, so full of sunshine and warmth and conviction as she said the words he had told himself he could live without ever hearing. And he told her he loved her, too, of course he did, because there was never a single shred of doubt in his mind about that. But it’s not enough. He hasn’t said everything else yet. So many years of his devotion, bottled up in his bruised, stretched out heart, ready to burst forth. He’s always been ready, but now he’s finally allowed to love her, her who has consumed his entire being, who is the best, kindest, strongest person he has ever met …

She who looks so, so fragile right now. Her voice is still clear and strong and full of authority as she gives her orders, her mind clear and her decisions immediate, but something about her is off. Maybe it’s just because he knows her so well, but her eyes look tired, and he can see how her shirt hangs more loosely on her tense shoulders. There’s also a tremor in her hand that wasn’t there before, and it drives him crazy. His fingertips burn with the need to touch her, to hold her hand until it stops shaking, to pull her into his arms, to get Jisung within reach again, to touch, and protect and love, God, love them with everything he has because he’s been a fool to ever think he was made for anything else. And he knows it’s safe now, he knows it’s over, but his body didn’t seem to get the memo because his body is thrumming with unnamed anxiety that makes him feel sick to his stomach.

He tries to catch Jisung’s eyes, but he slips away from him, the captain ordering him downstairs, to retrieve the papers from the secret stash he talked about. Jisung goes, though clearly unwillingly, flanked by Hyunjin and Chan, and with it goes the last shred of Minho’s sanity.

And then Minho is alone with the senseless dread buzzing in his veins. He remains stationed by the door, eyes glued to the hallway, ears straining for any sign of danger and deaf to anything else the captain and the crew say. He curses the fact that his eye is fucked, that he didn’t turn away when he should have because now he’s completely blind to anything happening on his left side, and it’s risky.

The thought alone makes his heartbeat thud in his ears so loudly that it makes every creak of the old house sound deafeningly loud and yet not loud enough, like he’s constantly one step behind, missing something crucial, like someone could jump out where he can’t see them or come barreling down the hallway, gun in hand, and he wouldn’t be able to judge how far away they are and fail to stop them and …

He only snaps out of it when they’re back outside in the setting sun, regrouping on the trampled grass of the now deserted yard, and Felix pulls him aside.

“Breathe,” Felix murmurs, squeezes Minho’s arm gently, then firmer, when Minho doesn’t respond, until Minho finally gulps down a breath of air, tears his eyes away from where he hadn’t even realised they were glued to the captain. He meets Felix’s worried gaze.

“Shit, sorry,” Minho mumbles, blinks. He tries to take a step back, but Felix doesn’t let him. His grip is firm and grounding. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m freaking out now. We won, didn’t we …”

Felix chuckles softly. He looks tired again. He rubs Minho’s arm comfortingly.

"There’s no timeline for this kind of stuff, Minho.”

Minho watches the captain a ways off, as she scribbles down the combination to the safe in her office so Jeongin can take the evidence back to the ship and stow it away safely. Felix follows his gaze.

“She’s okay.”

Minho shakes his head. He wants to shield his concern in something less vulnerable, but he doesn’t have the strength to find any fake words, so he just asks.

“Was it bad?”

Felix looks at him, eyes searching his for a few seconds before he sighs.

He tells him about it all, then, as they make their way away from Han Yujun’s house, down the loud, winding streets, filled with locals and children who run from house to house, cheer and celebrate and run to bring them gifts, ones they try to deny but can’t because they insist, tears of gratitude in their eyes.

The air of celebration can do nothing to soothe the lancing, aching pain that blooms in Minho’s chest when Felix finally tells him everything he had been so desperate to hear, though Minho can tell he’s sparing him the most gruesome details. Minho lets him; He’s more fragile than he cares to admit. Felix tells him how, when they heard the gunshot, the captain had screamed and screamed, that it had felt like she would never stop, before she collapsed into a feverish daze, mumbling and sobbing so hard she could barely walk. Tells him, with reverence, how gently Chan had picked her up, cooed sweet nothings to her as he held her, rocked her back and forth in an effort to stop her from crying. How pale Jeongin had been as he said that she shouldn’t be alone, that he could stay with her, but how Seungmin had stepped forward to tell him not to be stupid, that they needed their lookout and their lookout needed rest, and how Felix had volunteered without even thinking, suggesting Jisung’s empty cot in his cabin for her to rest.

Felix paints so vivid a picture, it’s like Minho can see them all walk down the stairs, a quiet procession following Chan, with the captain in his arms, none of them ready to leave each other after what happened. He can picture them waiting outside, consoling each other, can see Chan gently place her on her feet in Felix’s cabin, Jeongin stepping forward, speaking softly, tears in his eyes as he takes her heavy boots and coat off, combs her hair carefully before he guides her into bed. And it hurts him so much it briefly blinds him.

He stumbles, and Felix’s hand shoots out, wraps around his arm immediately.

“Minho? Are you okay?” he asks, concern laced into his deep voice. Minho nods blindly, motions for him to go on.

“Are you sure? Do you really want me to continue?”

Minho nods again.

“I … need to know,” he says, forces his voice to steady and his gaze to meet Felix’s. Because he does. He can’t stand not knowing.

So Felix takes Minho’s hand, and he tells him about how she had calmed down slightly with the smell of Jisung lingering around her, but how Felix had refused to leave her. How he had spent that night with her, and how they had found their way back into Jisung’s cot night after night afterwards, how they cried in each other’s arms. How the whole crew had made a meticulous plan, swallowing their own pain as best as they could so that even when the captain came to, marched onwards, set her jaw and steeled herself and kept going, on and on to Han Yujun’s demise, she never had to be alone. And God, their pain. Felix just keeps talking, how Changbin wasn’t able to keep his food down for three days after it happened until Chan started cutting all his meals so small it was basically mush. How drunk Jeongin got one night, threatening to throw himself off the top until Seungmin, fear of heights be damned, climbed up to him and held him through his tears. How Felix was barely able to keep himself on his feet for long enough to cook for them all, but how every day, there were at least 4 of them that found their way into the kitchen, taking Felix’ every order, helping him chop vegetables and stir potatoes and ensured there would be dinner on the table.

Minho’s chest feels like it’s ready to burst. It’s not like he thought the crew didn’t care about him but – he knows what he’s like. He knows he’s callous and short-tempered. He says things he doesn’t mean and lashes out instead of talking about what bothers him. Most days, he figured, the only reason they kept him around was because he was good with a sword, because he protected them. And he was fine with that.

But now, with Felix’s small hand in his, his tired eyes vouching for the truth of all the pain Minho’s supposed death had caused – Minho realises that maybe, just maybe, he’s more loved than he thought. And the knowledge threatens to overwhelm him.

And then there’s the captain, the crew. How closely they all stuck together, cared for each other, picked up the slack whenever one of them couldn’t go on any more. He knew they were strong together, but God, despite it all, the captain, the crew – none of them had been truly alone.

Felix looks at him with a soft smile.

“You would’ve been proud,” he sighs, and Minho wonders if somewhere along the way he learned how to read minds. “Chan and Changbin took turns sleeping at night, so one of the could stand guard at our door, even while we were at sea. Just in case we needed anything. Hyunjin and Chan refused to leave her side, even when the strange captain glared at them when he was trying to talk to her.”

Minho opens his mouth, but no words come. It’s like he has been wrung dry, and what he does feel is too much, too big for words now. He blinks at Felix with tears beading in his lashes.

“We really need you, Min,” Felix mumbles, quietly, “not just the captain needs you, not just Jisung. We all do. It nearly killed us when we thought we lost you.”

Minho chokes out a laugh, and before he can overthink it, he pulls Felix into a hug. Felix yelps in surprise, but he wraps his lithe arms around Minho’s middle and squeezes hard.

“Thanks, Lix,” he mumbles, “for … for everything.” For taking care of her. For loving him. For loving all of them. For being a part of the crew. All of that and more is what he wants to say, but he can’t get it out.

Felix wraps his arm tighter around Minho, nuzzles his nose into his shoulder, and Minho can’t help but smile.

“Thanks for coming back,” he mumbles back.

Minho pulls back, chuckles awkwardly as he wipes some stray tears away. Felix grins at him.

“Who knew you could be so soft, hm?”

Minho rolls his eyes, cuffs him in the shoulder so hard Felix squeaks, and keeps walking.

“Or I guess I know who knows …” Felix sing-songs, puts a little skip in his step, dodges Minho’s next playful fist, “two people, to be exact.”

Minho’s blush races up to the tips of his ears embarrassingly quickly.

“Shut up …” he mumbles. It’s looming, but he can’t handle thinking about the implications of everyone knowing about them right now.

“It’s okay, Min,” Felix hums, and throws an arm around his shoulders. They’re approaching a tavern at the end of the street, golden light streaming through its windows into the already golden light of the waning day, the gaggle of people, men, women, children, that has been following them through town, having only grown, and now weaving together with the crowd already waiting in front of the tavern, waving them in with loud cheers.

Felix nudges his shoulder with his own.

“Before it all went down, when Jisung disappeared into the captain’s quarters every day … Hyune and I … well, we may have spoken to the crew. Primed them, let them know just how serious things might get between you three.”

Minho’s ears burn hotter. He wants to hide.

“For all you knew, it could’ve just been a casual thing. A temporary thing.”

Felix scoffs, raises an eyebrow that makes Minho’s ears burn hotter.

“As if anything could ever be casual with you and the captain involved. Everyone can see it every time you look at each other. And then they could see it when you looked at Jisung.”

Minho cringes, tries to shake Felix off again, but he just grins, clearly very pleased with himself.

“Don’t worry about it! Hyune and I were able to clear up some questions, get them used to the idea. They were a little weirded out about the idea at first, but now nothing stands in your way.”

“Get them used to the idea of what exactly?” Minho asks, cautiously, his heart beating in his throat. Felix shrugs, casually, almost carelessly, as if nothing could break his mood now.

“Whatever you want it to be. You and the captain, the captain and Jisung, hell, you and Jisung.”

Minho looks at him, and it must be written all over his face because Felix throws his head back and laughs. Minho blushes hard, groans.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t mess with you after the day you’ve had. And with your fucked up eye and all. Yes, Min, also you and the captain and Jisung … all together, the three of you, in whatever arrangement.”

Minho lets out a shaky breath, shaking his head.

“I don’t … I don’t think I can even think about that right now,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Felix, but Felix just nods, drags him faster towards the tavern.

“Then don’t! Let’s just celebrate tonight! Let go, let loose. With the knowledge that they’re yours– ”

He stops, gives Minho a look.

“They are yours, right? Because the captain and Jisung …”

Minho can’t help the crooked grin that slips into his lips. Felix squeals, slips his cold hands into Minho’s.

“God, I’m so happy for you. We’ve all been waiting for this day for so long, you have no idea!”

He’s beaming so wide that the last of Minho’s resolve melts easily. Felix laughs, turns and tugs Minho closer to the tavern doors.

“And all the more reason to celebrate!” he yells before he drags him through the doors.

As soon as they step into the tavern, they’re welcomed with cheers and drinks on the house by the barkeep, who immediately uncorks a whole barrel of rum and sends the boy for the local band to come and play music. Minho watches as the captain gets whisked away into the crowd of people and is about to follow her when someone slings an arm over his shoulder and drags him to the bar. He loses sight of Felix immediately.

“She’ll be okay by herself for a moment, Minho,” Changbin laughs, rum already heavy on his breath. “Let’s get you a drink and make a toast!”

Hyunjin and Chan are already at the bar, greeting Minho with a chuckle when they see him throwing looks at the captain, and he blushes too deeply. The fact that they know about it all is still … something Minho has to get used to.

Changbin motions to the barkeep, who slides two glasses of rum over to them. Changbin doesn’t waste any time, shoves one into Minho’s hand.

“To you and Jisung coming back from the dead!”

“We didn’t …”

Chan claps Minho on the back so hard, he nearly chokes on his spit.

“We thought you were! For two whole weeks! We had to scrape our captain off the floor, too. So for all intents and purposes, for us, you came back from the dead!”

Minho grimaces, feels a prickle of anxiety on the back of his neck and he turns again. The captain is on the other side of the tavern, surrounded by locals and other pirates who are talking to her. There’s a drink in her hand and Minho wonders if someone got it for her, if it’s safe.

A man comes up to her, tears in his eyes, stuttering and stumbling over his words as he thanks her. Minho can see her tense shoulders, her helpless hands, the sheer disbelief on her features as she tries to calm him down. When another man comes up to shake her hand, loudly praising her as their saviour, he can see her neck flush harder. The anxiety alleviates a little, and he can’t help the small smile that pulls at his lips. She deserves this.

Hyunjin nudges him, draws his attention back to them, and nods at his glass.

He feels himself blush, but ignores it. He raises his glass with an exaggerated, fake sigh.

“Alright then, to me and Jisung coming back from the dead!”

Hyunjin, Chan and Changbin raise their glasses with a cheer.

“We came back from the dead?” Jisung’s voice comes from behind Minho.

When he turns around, there he is, with Felix, Jeongin and Seungmin in tow, appearing in front of Minho like a vision of honeyed, glistening skin and happiness. The smile on his face is unreal, and Minho wonders, not for the first time, and definitely not the last, how he does it, when Minho’s heart feels like it’s struggling against the weight of the years every time it beats.

He effortlessly threads his arm into Minho’s, rests his fingers on his wrist. Minho’s ears burn hotter, the embarrassment and affection mixing into a dangerous cocktail of feelings.

Hyunjin sighs dramatically and leaves Chan’s side, only to collapse into Jisung’s free side, letting his head drop onto his shoulder.

“You have no idea what we went through when the captain came back without you. She nearly went out of her mind when she had to leave you behind.”

Jisung’s lips pull into a pout.

“I told her it would be fine …”

Minho scoffs. Pain lances through him. Regret.

“I did, too. She didn’t like that.”

He can still hear her sobbing, gasping for breath behind a locked door that he was about to kick down when Changbin found him and dragged him away.

Seungmin sends him a glare.

“You were being an asshole about it,” he quips, “and you were clearly worried, you were white as a sheet. You were just trying to play it off.”

Jisung scrapes his nails over the sensitive skin of Minho’s wrist, and Minho shivers.

“Aw, were you worried about me? That’s so sweet, Minho,” he singsongs, a teasing smile on his lips. Minho glares at him now, though he knows his eyes hold no edge. He long lost the ability to be rough to Jisung.

“Dumbass,” he grumbles, nonetheless, "of course I was. You’re not known for your sense of self-preservation.”

Jisung huffs, but his pout quirks up at the edges. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Well, thank God I have such a strong pirate to protect me then,” he coos, nudges Minho, flutters his eyelashes up at him, so cutely Minho has to narrow his eyes by force, lest he melt on the spot. There was only one thing that flustered him more than Han Jisung, pettily and pointlessly angry at him, and that was Jisung, so brazenly, saucily flirting with him.

“You guys are disgustingly cute, even without the captain,” Jeongin sighs, “what even happened? How did you manage to find each other before we did?”

Minho sighs.

“It’s a long story.”

He empties his rum in one long drag and motions for the bartender to bring him another. Jisung’s fingers slip in between his, his thumb rubs over the back of his hand. Minho feels love singe him from the inside. He wants so badly.

“When they took me, after they made me kneel there and shot into the sky to make you believe I was dead, they dragged me into their hold and who do I see? Jisung, with a split lip, blood caked into his shirt, sulking in one of the cells. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw me, thought he was concussed, and I was a hallucination. And also nearly gave us away by getting too excited.”

“Excited?!” Jisung exclaims, indignant, “I was kidnapped, ready to be shipped back to my uncle to be killed and probably actually concussed because I broke Trott’s nose, and they beat me up, and in you walk, half your face smashed in, covered in blood. You scared the shit out of me!”

Minho can’t help the fondness that seeps into his eyes.

“I guess I looked pretty bad …”

“No offence to your gorgeous face, but you looked awful. I was so worried your eye was going to get infected,” Jisung says, pouting again.

Minho shrugs.

“So then we spent about a week locked in there, pretending not to know each other whenever someone came to check on us. Though in reality, we spent every waking second plotting our escape for when we were in Han Yujun’s cells. Jisung, once again, saving our asses with his incredible memory and the knowledge of his uncle’s business.”

Jisung straightens, preens under the praise. There’s a glint of pride in his eyes.

“My uncle has always been a cheapskate. I figured pretty much anything could pick the cheap locks on his basement cells, as long as it was long and thin enough. And conveniently enough, the cots we were sleeping on were just old wooden crates, with all sizes of nails hammered into them.”

Minho hums, turns back to their audience.

“But we knew that if we just escaped, we would likely not make it very far. And we knew it was only a matter of time before you would arrive.”

“How could you be so sure? Did you know we thought you were dead?”

Minho falters for the briefest moment.

“I figured nothing would stop the captain from completing her life’s mission. Especially not just my death.”

“Just your death?” Changbin breathes out in disbelief. Hyunjin is staring at Minho almost angrily and Minho regrets his choice of words immediately. “Minho, the mission was the only thing keeping us going. Without that, who knows what would have happened. Chan and I were so wired, we only slept alternate nights, taking turns to sit guard to sit in front of Felix’s cabin.”

The pain blooms again, and Jisung stiffens next to him.

“Felix’s cabin?” he asks quietly, a nameless worry in his voice.

Minho’s heart aches.

“The captain and I … slept in your bed. Every night,” Felix says, quietly, sheepishly, blushing a deep red, more embarrassment than shame.

Minho watches closely as Jisung freezes, blinks – watches his bottom lip quiver as the knowledge sinks in.

“We couldn’t leave her alone, and it was the only thing that calmed her down because seeing Minho’s things in her own cabin made her break down – and Felix just … refused to leave her after that first night,” Chan explains hastily. Jisung’s bottom lip quivers harder. The revelation that Minho’s things made her break down aches deep in Minho’s bones.

With a choked up little sob, Jisung lets go of his arm and throws himself into Felix’s arms, who catches him readily, and wraps him into a tight hug.

“Lix,” Jisung howls, squeezes Felix harder, “ Lix that is so … how … why … oh my god.”

Felix laughs sadly, rubs a hand over Jisung’s back. When Jisung pulls back, Felix gives Minho a look.

“I didn’t know if you were alive. Hope wasn’t really … well, I pretended to have it, because the captain didn’t have any, and I felt like she needed a reason to keep going, but really … I didn’t dare hope, either.”

Changbin sighs, Hyunjin’s face darkens.

“Keeping the captain from doing something stupid was a full-time job,” he mumbles, and for a brief second, Minho feels his world almost spin out of control. He turns again, scans over the crowd until he finds her, animatedly talking to a woman with a child on her hip, the baby’s meaty little fingers wrapped around the captain’s thumb, the captain’s eyes sparkling as she coos at the little thing. As if the captain could feel his gaze on her, she turns, finds him effortlessly. There’s a pretty little blush. Her eyelids flutter, ever so slightly. Then she smiles.

A ripple of cheers runs through the tavern, but Minho holds the captain’s gaze for a second, as if to reassure himself that she’s alive, before he turns back around.

It doesn’t take long to identify the reason for the commotion. The tall, strange pirate commanding everyone’s attention when he walks in surrounded by his crew. The tavern, already full enough to burst, becomes louder and more raucous yet. And it seems that with the pirates, the band arrived, because only a few minutes later, the first notes of a jig sound from somewhere on the other side of the tavern and a cheer runs through the crowd.

The barkeep appears in front of them then, slides another round of rum towards them with a toothy grin.

“From the tall fella’, over there,” he yells over the noise, “though I did tell ‘im it was all free ‘a charge tonight anyways. But he said it was the principle of th’ thing.”

When Minho lifts his eyes, he meets the strange captain’s eyes. He grins at them, lifts his hat in greeting, and bows lightly to Jisung, who blushes and bows back.

“Guess your advice was good,” Minho laughs, pulls Jisung back into his side, revels in the way he willingly wraps his arm around his waist. He hands Jisung one of the drinks, and they all cheers, loudly, Minho and Jisung raising their glasses over to the stranger and the men of his crew around him.

“So,” Jeongin asks, once their drinks are emptied, “I still wanna know. How did you end up escaping?”

“We waited until we heard two of the guards on duty to watch us talk about a privateer ship docking at the harbour,” Minho explains, “though in hindsight that was probably whoever that is over there. Then I picked the locks, took care of those sorry excuses Han Yujun hired for his guards, got Jisung out, and we split up. Took the fight to them, one by one, until you arrived to back us up.”

“We arrived at least an hour, if not two, after the other crew,” Seungmin observes, narrows his eyes at Minho, “how could you have possibly held them off for 2 hours?”

Minho feels his own neck burn up, but the rum in his blood has long made itself known, injecting him with more confidence than he would usually have.

“Well, maybe we didn’t leave to fight them immediately …” he hums. He tries hard not to sound too cocky about it, but it’s hard when he can feel Jisung squirm against him, and the memory of him basically jumping him as soon as he unlocked the door is still more than fresh in his memory.

Seungmin stares at him for a beat, then recoils with a disgusted scoff.

“Ugh, fucking gross,” he grunts and motions for the bartender to get him another drink. The tips of his ears are bright pink.

“Still risky, though,” Chan comments, seemingly already moved on from Minho’s dirty revelation, “timing it like that.”

Minho shrugs.

“You did take longer than expected and threw us off when talk of the second privateer ship got around in the house, but it was only a matter of time.”

Changbin shakes his head, reaches over and slaps Minho over the back of the head so hard, Minho actually flinches.

“Fucking dumbass,” he grumbles, “fucking risking your life like that. Again.”

A happy little laugh bubbles out of Jisung’s chest, before he protectively pulls Minho out of Changbin’s grasp and slaps at Changbin’s hands.

“Stop attacking my strong pirate bodyguard!” he squeals, with a fake scowl, “I will not hesitate to kick you in the shin again!”

That pulls a laugh out of all of them, even Changbin, who narrows his eyes, plays along readily.

“Well, the captain’s not here, so this time, I will kick back,” he yells, throws a dramatic fist into the air and Felix nearly falls off his barstool giggling.

Minho feels himself speak before he can stop himself.

“Then I’d kick you right back, I have sworn to protect this idiot, after all.”

There’s a brief moment of silence. Hyunjin stares at him, and Minho’s heart rockets into his throat, suddenly painfully aware of just how out of character his little joke had just been. But then Hyunjin’s eyes crease up, and he giggles, and the spell is broken. Minho breathes a sigh of relief.

Jisung turns, wraps his arm tighter around Minho’s waist and looks up at him with a theatrical gasp.

“But I’m your idiot, right?”

Minho can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line, not something you call yourself?”

Jisung pouts, blinks up at him, and he’s so, so gorgeous it makes Minho’s head spin a little.

“Well, if you won’t do it, I have to take the initiative,” he exclaims and Minho rolls his eyes again, but he lets his hand splay over the small of Jisung’s back, lets his fingers whisper over the sliver of exposed skin there. Jisung stares back at him, eyes softening until Minho thinks he could drown in them.

But they’re painfully interrupted by Felix, pulling Jisung right out of Minho’s grasp.

“Okay, enough lovey-dovey shit from you two, my best friend just came back to life, I want to celebrate!”

He drags Jisung towards the middle of the room where people have moved the tables aside to form a haphazard dance floor, and Jisung goes willingly, with an apologetic smile to Minho, who swallows his irritation and just sighs.

He sticks around with the others for a while, has another drink that makes his body hum and his vision fuzzy, listens to Chan tell him about the terrified kitchen staff they had found holed up in Han Yujun’s pantry earlier today, who barely allowed them to help them out the door before they ran, and watches as Jisung and Felix dance, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, swaying their hips, pivoting each other away from prying eyes and strange, wandering hands, giggling and laughing.

But his gaze returns again and again to the captain. After watching her float through the room, thanked and congratulated and celebrated over and over again, it seems that she has finally found a moment of rest.

She’s by herself, sat in front of an open window, on the back of a heavy wooden bench that doubles as a windowsill. Her posture suggests a calm that Minho has rarely seen in her outside of her own quarters, let alone somewhere as public like as a tavern. She’s leaning back against the window frame, head leaning against the thick wood, her eyes lazily roving over the crowd. There’s a soft smile on her lips, a glass of rum dangling from her elegant fingers. The tip of her boot sways to the beat of the music.

And he’s struck again just how breathtakingly beautiful she is. And how much she’s like nobody else he has ever met. He could call it charisma, or confidence, or authority, but it all seems too simple a word for the energy that radiates from her. He has had the privilege to see her in so many forms – at her best, at the helm of the ship, of her crew, her eyes sparkling with determination, a calculated violence and ruthlessness guiding her always skilled, always steady hands. The flip side of it, her other best, when she turns around at the mere sound of one of them getting hurt, defending every single one of her crew like they’re her own flesh and blood. The same care and love for every single human being when she finds people who are hurt, when she finds new recruits. The way she looks at them and seems to see in them more than anyone else can. Her innate ability to see the best and the worst in people, but most importantly, to see their fears and their potential. Like the day they picked up Felix, and the captain wrapped him in her coat, guided him back to the ship with a soothing hand on his back. Like the day they captured Jisung, and somehow, she saw through everything that set off the alarm bells in Minho’s head so badly he hated his guts for weeks.

And then the side of her only he got to see. Soft, desperate, needy. Her usually steady hands trembling against his skin, pulling at his wrists to get him closer, whispering about how much she needed him. The words, despite their context, never failing to make him reel. Or when she was underneath him, eyes fluttered shut, body beautifully bared to him and only him, entrusted to him because she knew he would keep her safe, would do anything for her. Her pleasure, his charge. His privilege to give her.

And even the darker moments, the ones he coveted quietly, a sick sort of pride in the knowledge that they were also his to keep. The occasional flickers of doubt, the shadows of fear. The darkness that would cloud her eyes sometimes, seemingly out of nowhere, that made her body unnaturally still, her breathing catch in her throat. The moments she hid from everyone because she thought they would make her less … less what, Minho wonders. Less of a leader? Less trustworthy? Less strong? Less lovable? As if these weren’t the moments that solidified for Minho, more than any others, that this was someone he would follow until the ends of the earth. Someone he would break his own heart over again and again and again, if it meant he was able to stay in her orbit. Her magical, addictive orbit, one he could never resist. One, he thinks, he will find himself in in his next life, and the one after that, and the one after that – if something like that exists. Maybe if he ever meets Ryujin again, he can ask her if it does.

Maybe it’s her orbit that draws him over to her now, pushing through the crowd, drawn in by her energy until she spots him, smiles at him, straightens up only enough to stretch an arm towards him.

He lets himself reach for her, too, lets his fingers intertwine with hers, lets himself be pulled closer, onto the back of the bench with her, until he can feel her leg press against his, and he’s right back in her orbit, her energy prickling through his veins and the smell of her hair in his nose.

Slowly, carefully, dancing the same sweet, covert dance they have played so many times before, he lets his leg rest agains hers. And despite it all, despite how many times they’ve done this, despite the three magical words that have so easily dripped from her lips earlier, his heart skips an uneven beat when she leans hers against his. He wonders if he could ever get used to it.

“I can’t believe we did it,” she hums, quietly.

He looks over at her, finds her still looking into the crowd of raucous, drunken people, before she turns to him and smiles. “I can’t believe we actually did it.”

Minho remembers all the years they spent, all the frustration and the setbacks and the pain when they lost again and again and again. The year they got so close before he eluded them again, when she locked him out of her quarters for an entire week. The time when they only narrowly eluded the coast guard that Han Yujun had sicced on them. The year they didn’t elude it, and they had to break Changbin out of jail.

But, his body also unhelpfully reminds him now, with her leg pressed against his, the sound of her voice telling him she loved him still warm and honeyed in his ears, of the year after that, the small victory of uncovering the drug ring that was funnelling roofies into the brothels of Nassau, when she dragged him into the kitchen while everyone was in the common area celebrating and kissed him so hard and demanding he felt his blood rush to his cock in record time before she sank to her knees, right there, where anyone could’ve walked in. He had never gotten over the headrush of it, her readiness to let him have his way with her almost in public. The closest thing to her love he thought he could ever have. But now here he was. He forces his mind out of the gutter, his gaze back to the dancers. He sees Felix’s blonde mop of head jumping around somewhere in the back.

The captain hands him her drink and he takes a sip.

“I always knew we would, eventually,” he offers, tries to get the conversation back on track because he finds he misses her voice already. She sighs.

"I mean, I guess I did, too, but it took so long, and we failed so many times, and then we lost all the evidence and … I just really thought it might never happen.”

She leans forward, rests her chin in her hand, her elbow on her leg.

“I guess I thought that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, you know. That we weren’t strong enough, not smart enough, didn’t want it enough. That we never stood a chance.”

Minho scoffs, turns back to her, and finds himself so close to her, he can smell the rum on her breath. Desire rushes through him so fast it almost makes him dizzy. Desire and love, though the two have always been intertwined when it comes to her.

“Captain,” he murmurs, watches her eyelids flutter, gaze dropping down to his lips so briefly he thinks he imagined it, “you were always strong enough. It was only a matter of time. For fate to finally help us find the last piece of the puzzle. I never doubted it would be you who finally took him down.”

He watches her fluster, her eyes waver, fall down to the floor, her lashes fanning over her cheeks like they do when she’s asleep. One separates, comes to rest on her cheekbone. He reaches out, brushes it away softly. Her skin under his fingertips drives him crazy.

She smiles at him, briefly leans into his touch, before her attention is drawn back into the room, where the music comes to a stuttering halt and someone stumbles his way through the crowd and onto a chair in the middle of the room. A chuckle runs through the room when he nearly tumbles onto the floor.

Minho nearly laughs out loud when he sees it’s Kim Seungmin. He tries again and this time, Seungmin manages to climb up and stand tall over the crowd. And despite his flushed cheeks and uneven feet, he finds the captain immediately. His voice, too, is surprisingly stable.

“I’m a little bit drunk, and I’m sure everyone who knows me will never let me live this down for as long as I live, but I have something I wanted to say,” he begins. The room quiets down to listen.

“Not many of you know this, actually, because I have never told the story and because, frankly, nobody has ever asked, but I have been with the captain since the very first day. I met her the day she stumbled onto our former captain’s ship,” he says, with a bow in the direction of where Minho can see the strange pirate’s hat tower over everyone.

Through his own surprise, his confusion as he tries to puzzle out how none of them had ever asked, watches Hyunjin’s mouth fall open on the other side of the room, hears San yell out a “what the fuck, Seungmin!” that makes the crowd chuckle. Seungmin just shrugs and lifts his hand, and the room quiets down again. Minho’s almost impressed with how well he handles the crowd.

“Years later, when she picked me to go with her when our captain gave her her ship, I went willingly. And I still remember the first night on the new ship like it was yesterday. Just her, me, and three other crew mates from the Captain’s crew, sailing into the unknown on a ship that was too big for us to realistically man. The uncertainty. The doubts. But then dawn broke, and she rallied us all into the kitchen, sat us down, brewed us coffee and scrambled some eggs and told us her plan for recruitment, for money, for how she wanted to refurbish the common room we all know and love today, everything, like she hadn’t slept at all that night and just figured it out. She told me then, on that very first day, that she wanted me to be her navigator. And mind you, I had never told anyone about my interest in cartography, in navigation, only sneaking books from land, and drawing in my spare time, in whatever corner of the ship I could hide when I wasn’t on swabby duties. But the captain had noticed.”

Minho turns to the captain next to him, who is watching Seungmin with rapt attention, a deep blush on her soft cheeks, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. She looks younger than she ever has, and he can’t help but wonder if this is how she looked when Seungmin met her. If her face looked very different when she was younger. If she had worn her hair differently back then. Not for the first time, he wishes he could’ve been there. It makes him almost jealous of Seungmin.

“And of course I said yes, so I became her navigator and have since sailed our ship over more miles than I can count. I watched her dedication to goodness from the very first day, when we picked up that old drunk in a dinghy that threw up all over the deck, and she wanted to clean it up, but we refused to let her and drew lots instead. I lost.”

Seungmin grimaces, and the captain does, too. A loud laugh runs through the audience.

“I could talk for hours about her. The obvious, like her fighting skills, her intelligence, her courage, her leadership. But also about her staring evil in the face and still choosing the good every time. And her ability to make split second decisions that determine life or death, and coming out on the side of life every time. And you know what? As cheesy as it sounds, I think that is her real power.”

Seungmin sweeps his arms to the side, looks over where Hyunjin, Jeongin, Changbin and Chan are watching him, then back to the captain.

“The captain is a giver of life. Every single one of us has come from dark places. Have lead lives we’re not proud of, or ones we’d rather not remember. We suffered and fought for our survival, and we thought that was all we were ever going to have. And most of us had accepted our lots, and we would’ve continued on, surviving, until we couldn’t. But the captain found us.

“And I truly, do not know how she does it. How she saw me, a lanky, cowardly, moody swabby and picked me to come with her, to give me the honour of being her navigator. And I’ve asked myself for years if it was because she saw something in me that I didn’t know was there but … I’ve since come to a different conclusion: It’s her who brought it out of me. Because I wanted to be worthy of the chance.”

Minho hears the captain scoff, but she’s smiling. She cups her hands over her mouth and shouts “untrue! You were always destined to be the best cartographer in the seven seas!”

Hyunjin, Chan and Changbin cheer loudly, the crowd laughs.

Seungmin sighs deeply, waves the captain off with a lighthearted scowl.

“See, ladies and gentlemen, she does it again. But it does remind me that I should get to the point.”

The chuckles ebb down and Seungmin look serious, throws another look to the group around Hyunjin at the bar, then looks at Minho, and then the captain.

“Our captain is more than just our captain. Yes, she leads us, every single day without fail. But even more importantly, she has given us what many of us thought we would never get to have again – another chance. Safety. Autonomy. Purpose. And most importantly.”

Seungmin takes a deep breath, gives the captain the smallest smile.

“She has given us a family. She is our family. And we know how hard she works, how much she swallows, hides, how much she sacrifices, in order for us not to think her any less strong – something we could never think of her, by the way – and nothing made this clearer than the last two weeks, when not even the death of two people she loved more than anything could keep her down for longer than a day. When she pushed through all her own pain to guide us through ours. She got up every single morning and kept fighting because she knew how much this victory meant to all of us …”

Seungmin breaks off, and Minho swears he can see tears glimmer in his eyes before he blinks them away. Minho hears the captain sniffle beside him, quiet enough for only him to hear. A single tear runs down her cheek.

“So …” Seungmin croaks out, clears his throat, “we did the same. We did what she has done for us all of these years, and we swallowed our pain so we could help her through hers. So we could help each other. Because it’s the least we could do to repay her.”

The captain huffs out a wet laugh next to Minho, tears streaming down her face. Something about it is so much more vulnerable than anything Minho had ever seen, it breaks his heart. Gently, he places a hand on her knee, rubs his thumb soothingly. She shakes her head at Seungmin, but Seungmin doesn’t budge.

“No, captain. Without you, none of us would be here. We would be dead or in jail or destitute or criminals. But you have given us something bigger to strive for. And we did it – we rid this world off its biggest leech!”

A cheer goes through the crowd.

“With the help of our former captain and his formidable crew that we used to call our own,” he says, with another deep bow in their direction that is answered by loud cheers, “with the help of our own fearless crew, and …”

Seungmin fixes Minho with fake glare.

“… the captain’s ever fearless second in command, who can be a massive ass but is unfortunately also one of the best people I’ve ever met and deserves our thanks for protecting us with everything he has for years …”

Minho’s heart knocks against his ribcage almost painfully. The captain’s fingers thread between his own softly, and squeeze. Right here, next to her, even the attention doesn’t feel so bad.

“… and Han Jisung, who is the living proof for anyone that your name is not your legacy, and has chosen us from day one. I hope you continue to be … well, whatever your role is on our ship …”

Another loud giggle through the crowd, interrupted by Jisung’s loud yell

“That’s kitchen assistant, fighter, and the captain’s concubine to you, Kim Seungmin!”

Seungmin grimaces, shoots him an exasperated glare, but he can’t hide the smile on his lips. The captain giggles, blushes, squeezes Minho’s hand harder.

“Well, then I hope you continue to be … all of that … a part of our crew, a part of our family.”

Then Seungmin turns back to the captain and raises his glass.

“But none of this would have been possible without you, captain. You have made an indelible mark on this world, today. Here’s to a long, happy life, without any more sacrifices. We could never respect you less. We are incredibly proud to be your crew,” Seungmin closes, a sense of grandiosity in his voice that makes everyone cheer louder, especially the members of their crew. He climbs off the table awkwardly.

The captain is on her feet before Minho can do so much as blink. She threads through the cheering crowd, and Minho follows her almost blindly, seemingly unable to escape her orbit now that he has been drawn into it. As soon as Seungmin is within her reach, the captain tackles him into a tight hug. It takes him a few seconds to compute the sudden presence of her, but then he wraps his arms around her, pulls her against him and squeezes his eyes shut until a tear does escape him.

“Seungminnie,” the captain mumbles, into Seungmin’s shoulders, without looking at him, so quietly Minho can barely hear her, “I– … in the top drawer of my desk. There’s a piece of paper. I wrote my will, just in case I wouldn’t make it. But it didn’t take me long at all. Because there was only one instruction: The ship should belong to Kim Seungmin. I have always known that.”

The sob that wrenches out of Seungmin’s chest is so guttural it makes Minho’s heart physically ache with it, and he watches as he cradles her closer, as Jeongin and Hyunjin and Changbin and Chan make their way over with more rum, crowd around the two until Seungmin finally pushes himself away from the captain and wipes at his eyes with a huff.

“If any of you make fun of me for this tomorrow, I will kill you,” he grumbles.

Hyunjin scoffs, shakes his head at Seungmin.

“Idiot, we would never make fun of you for saying out loud what we were all too cowardly to say,” he mumbles, hands Seungmin a drink. Seungmin takes it with a grumble, downs half of it in one big draught. Then Hyunjin turns to the captain with a radiant smile, hands her a glass, too, wipes at her tears and giggles and asks her if she’s alright.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho watches as Jeongin quietly abandons his spot next to Chan, makes his way around everyone until he can squeeze in next to Seungmin, his chest pressed against Seungmin’s arm; Seungmin looks down at him with wide eyes, and Minho can hear his breath hitch when Jeongin gives him the gentlest smile, reaches up, cradles his face in his hands and tenderly wipes Seungmin’s tears away. It’s the smallest moment, but it feels so achingly private, Minho feels like he shouldn’t be watching. And it’s over as soon as it happened, though when Jeongin steps back, takes his place next to Seungmin, Minho thinks he can see Seungmin reach out and intertwine their hands between them. He hopes so. He hopes the two of them will finally let themselves be happy.

He turns from them, gives them their privacy, lets himself get swept up by Hyunjin, who’s passing out drinks, making toast after toast after toast, to the end of Han Yujun, to their victory, to their captain, to Minho and Jisung, who, along with Felix, has finally found his way back to them, coming ‘back to life’ as he says over and over again. Minho sips his drink slowly. He doesn’t want to drink tonight. Frankly, he doesn’t know if he can. The high of their victory, the gut-wrenching pain of everything it cost, the storm of confusion and love, so much, uncontrollable love – it already scares the living shit out of him. If he drinks now, who knows what he would do. And, really, what does he need a drink for when he has them, right in front of him, smiling and laughing, flushed and beautiful, looking at each other and touching each other subtly and sweetly and so intimately that it makes Minho’s entire body burn with need.

But he’s patient. Truly, he’s more patient than he thought he could be, makes small talk and lets everyone congratulate him. Lets Jisung and Felix dance some more. Lets the captain and Hyunjin talk and laugh at the corner of the bar. Lets the captain talk to the tall stranger, her captain, whose encouraging words and heavy hand on her shoulder make her blush and bow. But as the night wears on and the party gets louder and everyone around them gets drunker except for them, as everyone gets swept away into the crowd and leaves the three of them there – Minho sees it in her eyes. Glossy and big and beautiful and dark with desire, shivering when Jisung’s hand, lightly, but possessively laying against her nape, threads up and into her hair and scratches gently at her scalp.

They leave without telling anyone; sneak out the door to the tavern, take off running down the street when they hear someone call for them. Their laughter rings through the balmy night air that still holds the scent of a sunny day, the dust under their feet kicks up as they run and run and run, all the way through town, until their feet hit the sand of the beach and they, breathlessly, climb into one of the dinghies and row out.

It’s a dizzying contrast, the sudden quiet of the night, with only the water lapping against the sides of the boat, the oars hitting the waves.

Minho rows you out, leaving you and Jisung to sit opposite him. Your body feels light as air, like you’re floating above yourself somewhere, and you allow yourself to sink into Jisung’s arms, lean against his solid chest behind you. From where you are, you have a perfect view of Minho, his raven hair glimmering in the moonlight, the muscles in his shoulders straining against his shirt as he rows, the dark eyepatch obscuring one of his eyes. You can’t help but mourn it, deep down. His eyes, his beautiful, glimmering, loving eyes, are one of your favourite things about him. But when he looked at you earlier, you realised that it won’t be so different. All the love, the devotion, his soul; it’s still reflected there for you to see. It must’ve hurt, though, you think, and it may still hurt now, but he doesn’t let it show. It makes you wonder just how much pain he has swallowed over the years, how much he has been hiding behind the ever-present furrow of his eyebrows that you have long learned has nothing to do with his actual mood. Or so you thought. You decide you will figure this one out in time.

You lean back, further into Jisung’s warmth, into his pine and musk scent, the one you’ve been sleeping in through all the pain, the one you never thought you would smell again. The fact that he’s here is still unbelievable to you, a part of you terrified that you will blink and wake up, in Jisung’s cot with Felix glued to your back, and it was all a dream. Absentmindedly, you let your hands splay over Jisung’s thighs, run them up and down, drawing little patterns against the rough material until his breath hitches, trying to convince yourself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s real.

You still are when Jisung’s hand finds your jaw, and he leans in, brushes his nose against yours before his eyes flutter shut and he kisses you. And you know that this can’t be a dream.

It’s the sweetest whisper of a kiss, a brush of his lips against yours, perfect reticence and tenderness, even when he presses closer, a little more insistent this time, and then again and again, until your mouth opens for him and Jisung dips down, licks a moan right off your tongue.

You hear Minho’s movement stall, hear the lewd, wet sound of Jisung’s spit slick lips sliding against yours, feel Jisung’s hands cradle you closer, his tongue dancing with yours until you’re dizzy with want.

You barely notice when the little dinghy comes to a halt, bumps into the side of your ship, until Jisung pulls back, and you’re hauled up and straight into Minho’s arms. The gaze in his one good eye is penetrating, yet so tender, and you swear you have never needed him, never wanted him as badly as you want him right now. His gaze flutters to your lips, and yours glue to his. You whisper a hoarse “please” but he shakes his head, turns you around, ushers you up the stairs.

Your fragile, beaten heart doesn’t even have the time to panic, to wonder if something had changed, whether kissing Jisung when Minho was right there was wrong, because as soon as Minho swings his legs over the railing, he finds you, sweeps you up into his arms and kisses you, short and sweet and filthy, before he carries you into the ship, Jisung trailing after you with a dopey smile on his lips.

He carries you through the thick wooden door, down the familiar corridor, the way he has done so many times before when the two of you finally managed to steal a moment away from everyone, and it makes tears pool in your eyes at the same time as a laugh bubbles out of your chest. You bury your face in his neck, card your hand through his hair, drag your lips over the skin of his neck until you crash through the door of your quarters.

It’s pitch dark, but he doesn’t need any light to find the way to your bedroom, to push open the door and gently place you down on the foot of your bed. His hands find your face, and you only realise that you’re still crying when the thumbs he smoothes over your cheekbones come away wet.

Jisung stumbles over to you, toes off his boots hurriedly and crawls onto the bed until he’s behind you. He cards his careful, gentle hands through your hair.

“Hey,” Minho whispers. His voice is shaky with worry. “Y/N, baby, are you okay?”

But you can’t respond, the weight of the world sitting so heavy on your chest you think you might collapse under it, the absence of the kraken like a physical ache.

You shake your head. More tears drip down your face, your mouth screwed shut, desperately trying to keep the sobs in, but it just hurts so much.

“Shh … it’s okay, my love. Lean back against Sungie for me, okay? I’ll just light some candles,” Minho hums, softly, and makes to step away, but your hand shoots out in a reaction of senseless panic. Minho doesn’t force himself away. He comes back easily, gently, cradles your face back in his hands.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he whispers, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Just one second.”

Somehow, you manage to nod, let go of his hand, even when your heart is being torn apart because he’s here, he’s really here, taking care of you again. It makes the emptiness, the exhaustion, the pain of the last two weeks stand in such brutal relief that the sob tears out of your chest so hard it jolts Jisung into action.

He half turns you, pulls you into his lap, cradles you so close you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek and you cry. And he holds you.

Pine and musk and sweat and rum. Big, warm hands. A soft voice humming your name, whispering sweet nothings as Minho moves around the room, lights the candles in the sconces until the room is bathed in warm, golden candlelight, and you realise you haven’t seen it like this since the day you lost them.

And then Minho is back. Ever so gently, he pulls your shoes off your feet, manoeuvres you until he can tug your dirty, bloodied jacket off you. Carelessly, he throws it into the corner somewhere and comes to kneel in front of you and Jisung, who’s still holding you closely to his chest, rocking you back and forth soothingly. Minho reaches out, smoothes your messy hair back from your forehead. His touches so tender and careful more tears collect in your eyes, so many you can’t blink them away, and they run down your cheeks, collect in Jisung’s sleeve. You stare at Minho and you see your pain reflected in the devastated expression on his face.

“You’re here …” you whisper, your voice so brittle you barely recognise it, “taking care of me and everything … I thought you would never be able to … I thought I lost you. Both of you. I thought I was alone.”

You sob again, try to hide your face in Jisung’s chest, who cradles you closer. His chest convulses and you realise he’s crying, too.

“Ooooh no no no no, not you, too” Minho whines, scoots closer until he can wrap his arms around both of you. Jisung chuckles quietly behind you, then sniffles. He hugs you closer, rubs his hand up and down your arm. Minho’s fingers are still soothingly running over your hair.

“Everything’s okay,” he murmurs, quietly, lets his forehead rest against Jisung’s head in a gesture so surprisingly vulnerable it hits you square in the chest how much everything has changed. But you’re not scared. Not any more.

Jisung nuzzles into Minho’s touch, turns his head, places a soft kiss into his hair, then ducks down to do the same to you.

“I love you two, you know,” he mumbles, and you look up at him. He looks so nervous it makes your heart ache. “Like, I know I kinda made a joke out of it earlier, but … I really do. And it feels weird to say it now when, for the longest time, I really, really hated myself for it because I thought something was seriously wrong with me. Falling in love with the captain of the pirates who picked me up. Falling in love with a guy who hated my guts. The whole crew on my ass because they thought I wanted to break you up.”

He scoffs, sniffles again and looks down at you.

“Like, how was I going to tell them that I fell in love with you both?! It’s fucking delusional.”

Minho huffs out a laugh next to him, nudges Jisung’s cheek with his nose.

“No sense of self-preservation, I told you,” he grumbles, and it makes you laugh for real. Your tears finally stop coming and there’s something like hope blooming in your chest as you settle into this, the three of you, just … existing together. It feels right.

Jisung pouts at Minho, then at you.

“Captain, he’s being mean to me again,” he whines, and you chuckle, pull yourself up until you can turn around in his lap, straddling him instead, so you can look at him, stare into his big beautiful eyes.

You thread your hands into his hair loosely, rub at his cheeks until the pout falls from his lips and he can’t help the smile.

“Minho’s like that,” you muse, pointedly ignoring Minho’s glare, “but can I tell you a secret? Underneath that gruff exterior, there’s a heart bigger than anyone’s I’ve ever met.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Minho blink, staring at you. Jisung looks up at you with a wide grin.

“Yeah?” he asks, and you nod, smile down at Jisung, wipe a few stray tears from your eyes with the back of your hand before you lean in, press a soft kiss to Jisung’s lips that he reciprocates happily.

“Mhmm,” you hum. Your heart feels like it’s ready to burst. “He’s really strong and fiercely protective of the people he loves. But he also has so much love to give. But he doesn’t realise how much everyone loves him, back.”

Minho’s hand winds around the back of your head, and he pivots your face to him. His gaze is laced with desperation, a vulnerability that you’ve never seen.

“You can’t just … you can’t just say that …” he mumbles, eyes flickering all over your face, “and not when you’re not even looking at me.”

You smile again. There’s a sense of peace in you now. Purpose. Your voice is soft when you speak again.

“He loves so entirely, so wholeheartedly it’s terrifying, because it makes you wonder what you ever did to deserve it. And …” you breathe in shakily, “because you don’t know what you’ll do if that love is ever taken from you. Because you need him like you need air to breathe, because without him there’s no warmth. Because nothing could ever compare to how it feels to be loved by him.”

Minho blinks, and three crystalline tears slip down his cheeks. He looks like he’s in pain, and you briefly wonder if you did something wrong, but then he breathes out your name and crashes his lips into yours and your whole body erupts into sparkles of electricity.

Because you’re loved by him again, and you need him like you need air to breathe. Because he’s warm. Because nothing could ever compare to this. To how it feels to be loved by him.

To be slowly, methodically, sweetly undressed by his and Jisung’s hot, calloused hands, Minho’s lips barely leaving yours for more than a second, until you’re panting and breathless, and he kisses his way down your body and makes you whimper his name into the quiet of the empty ship, your nails digging into Jisung’s arms until he moans.

He makes you cum like that, on his tongue, so hard you see stars, moons, entire galaxies, your body jellied in Jisung’s safe arms, where you remain, slotted back to front, against Jisung’s chest, when Minho lies down, on his side, in front of you, lifts your leg and slides home. Jisung’s hot lips on your shoulder, sucking and biting, rutting his cock against your ass and breathing moans into your ear until you’re half crazed with it, then Minho’s lips on yours again, then Minho’s lips on his, Minho’s hand reaching behind you to tug Jisung closer, until his cock brushes against where Minho’s drags in and out of you again and again until Jisung is whimpering into Minho’s lips. You don’t know which of them slides a hand between you, presses Jisung’s cock up until the head of it pushes in next to Minho, but it makes the three of you moan out in unison, the sensation so overwhelming, so hot and tight and intimate, so mind-numbingly, dizzyingly beautiful and like everything you never knew you wanted.

And Jisung presses in further, until they’re both buried in you, Minho fucking in and out of you feverishly, desperately, so deeply, alongside Jisung’s thick, hot cock, rubbing against him so hard it makes Jisung babble stupidly into your ear about how much he loves you, how perfect you are.

And you know it’s love that you’re feeling. The feeling the shivers through your veins, fills your chest, expanding and expanding until every single inch of the emptiness that the kraken used to inhabit is filled with nothing but love. Nothing but them.

Your vision whites out briefly when the tight heat in your abdomen explodes and pleasure zaps through your veins as you cum, and you sob out their names. Jisung moves to pull out, but you manage to reach behind you, to paw at his ass until he’s fucking back into you as far as he can go, and he releases with a devastating moan of your name, making the slide of it hot and filthy and loud. Jisung presses closer, drags Minho closer, too, and it makes Minho’s hips stutter until he whispers your name, ruts himself in three more times, as deep as he can go, and spills inside of you, his face buried in your neck, his nails raking down Jisung’s back behind you.

You stay that way for a long time, holding each other, until the last of the candles Minho lit burns down.

In the silence, Minho brushes his lips against yours. He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you,” he whispers, so quietly you think you may be dreaming, “how could I not. You’re everything. I’ve loved you selflessly, and then I loved you selfishly. I was so selfish when I kissed you that one summer night, when it was just us and the stars and everyone else on land, and you were so beautiful, and I thought maybe, just maybe, you could be mine. And I thought you loved me, too, but I saw your fear and I … it was okay, it was enough. I was content to be whatever you needed me to be, as long as you needed me. It was enough.”

He takes a shuddery intake of breath. You can tell he’s not done yet, so you wait. You barely dare to breathe.

“When I thought they were going to kill me, my first thought was that they couldn’t because then you would be alone. I would crawl my way out of my own grave just to get back to you. You’re my everything. You’ve been my everything for a very long time. Every fucking second of every day I think about you, about how to keep you safe, how to make you happy. That’s all I ever want you to be. Safe and happy. And I couldn’t leave, not without you knowing how much I love you. Not without me knowing that you are safe and happy. And I’m selfish, because I want to be the one to make you happy, I want to be the one to keep you safe. So you see why I couldn’t leave you. I love you. You’re everything to me. The sea may rise, and the sky may fall, and they can try to take me away from you, but I will always come back to you, and I will always love you.”

< chapter X - interlude >

series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi

🔖 series taglist closed! general taglist open! be 18+ and have your age in bio when you ask to be added

taglist part 1: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148

@caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector

@stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut

@warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti

@hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows

@ayoitschannie @starsandrqindrops @redstayrosie @vitrealisbunny @seukijeuxq

@bakedlilgoonie @bookworm731 @jazziwritesthings @katsukis1wife @minhos4thkitty

@gbskzlover @armystay89 @chuwii3o @foivetimesacharm @palindrome969

@gimmeurtmi @ashareeboobear @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @staysinbloom @f1wh0r3

@mnwrld @linocz @linosssss

When I tell you this is the best fucking fanfiction I’ve ever read, probably best book I’ve ever read. It was so well written, the plot was so investing, I got so emotionally attached to each one of the characters. I cried, I laughed, I smiled, I got pissed… @skzms did such an amazing freaking job at this book.

I know I’m like months late to when this was uploaded, but I’m so glad I found it…literally holy fuck.

I need a printed copy of this, by the end of the story, I didn’t even care that it was a skz fic or that it was smutty (let’s be real that’s why I read it at first) but now, I will literally recommend this story to ANYONE, whether they have Tumblr or not…HOLY FUCKS SJSKKSJWBDJD

literally was ranting to my bestie about it and she got so invested, now she’s downloaded tumblr for the sake of this book 😭😭

LITERALLY BEST FUCKING BOOK/FANFIC EVER HOLY SHIT

😩🤌✨

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall masterlist

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

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!!

🔖 series taglist closed! general taglist open!

series taglist: @drunkewok @fixation-dump @badmaeda @luminouskalopsia @leetoes @leeknowyah @pynchkilledme @cotton-candycloudz @devilsmatches @notevenheretbh1 @jamlessstars @kiaralynn3838 @kayleefriedchicken @adorepjw @miss-fallon @emmxxsworld @ot8girlfie @opfop @moonlightndaydreams @chaeryred @skzswife @lac3ybow @kkamismom12 @itsseohannbin

AHHHHHH

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter I

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

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 (coming march 15, 3pm CET) ->

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 (coming march 15, 3pm CET) ->

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