leesjuicycalves - Tumblr blog

leesjuicycalves · 18 hours

Text

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

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: jisung's intoxicated honesty pays off in that he finally gets what he's been craving so madly. but will it be so easy?

word count: 9.4k

warnings: unprotected sex; consensual sex under the influence; p in v; oral sex (m&f receiving); mxm anal sex; one tiny lil predator/prey moment but it's very hot; another fight bc these pirates thrive off drama

author's note: I'M SORRY FOR LAST WEEK'S CLIFFHANGER BUT THE CHAPTER WOULD'VE GOTTEN TOO LONG OKAY!! to make up for it, this is almost entirely smut lol (see why i couldn't add it?). mwah mwah I love you all who have been reading this and commenting religiously. you mean the world to me!

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter VII - chapter IX (coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET) >

The breath Minho expels puffs against your neck, makes a shiver run down your spine. Jisung looks like a wet dream, a siren with sweet, kissable lips, soft brown hair, an impossibly tiny waist and soft, strong muscled shoulders.

You want him so bad you ache with it.

“Meet me back at the ship,” Minho growls out, want buried somewhere deep in his voice, and Jisung’s eyes widen, like he didn’t quite believe it would work. But he nods, and then Minho’s warmth leaves your back. You watch him walk out, Jisung’s hand still on your neck. Someone bumps into his back, and it jostles him out of his reverie, seems to remind him where you are. He drops his hand. The loss of both their touch makes you shiver with a desperate kind of loss.

Jisung’s achingly deep, lidded eyes slip down to your lips, and you watch his pink tongue dart out to wet his like it holds salvation.

“Not here,” you whisper. Your voice is high, desperate. You reach a hand out, drag your fingers over the back of his. He shivers. You see your want mirrored in him. He blinks erratically, like he’s coming out of a trance.

“Captain,” he mumbles, his voice thick and low and so, so sexy. You think the title may have never sounded better. Jisung’s eyebrows furrow, he pulls his hand out of your reach. Your heart drops.

“Captain, I kissed him,” he whispers, quietly, sorrowfully. Scared. “Minho. A couple weeks ago. We had a fight and emotions ran high, and I kissed him and I should’ve told you, and I’m so sorry.”

You’re frozen where you are, staring back at him, your face schooled into your usual impassivity, though there’s a dull pain in your chest. You hadn’t expected a confession like this. Not here, not now. Jisung takes your silence for disapproval.

“I’m sorry, captain, I understand if you no longer want this. You can just say the word. You can go back to the ship alone. But I needed you to know before we do this because …” he takes a deep breath, “because I’ve wanted this for too long to let something like this poison it.”

The kraken in your chest rankles, writhes. But it seems undecided, confused. You force yourself to ask the heavy question on the tip of your tongue.

“Do you just want to do this to get to him?”

Jisung actually reels back at that, his eyes wide in shock, body curled in on itself like the question physically hurt. He shakes his head vehemently, reaches a gentle hand closer, until it can wrap around your wrist.

“No! No, God, no, I … I’ve wanted you since I met you,” he mumbles, his eyes trained down, but flicking up, like he wants to look at you, but he doesn’t quite have the courage to. His hand slips from your wrist, down, until he can lace his fingers with yours so gently it takes your breath away. His breath hitches. “That’s the trouble – I can’t stop myself from being so greedy when it comes to you. Can’t stop myself from wanting you. Both of you.”

It’s insane, it’s mad, he’s so beautiful, his touch sets you on fire, it’s terrifying.

Abruptly, you get up and he stares up at you. You smile at him as best as you can, stretching out your hand to him.

“Let’s go then.”

He jumps up, laces his warm fingers with yours, lets you lead him through the tavern, past hazy faces, past two bodies intertwined against the wall leading to the toilets that look suspiciously like Hyunjin and Chan, though you can’t dwell on it now with Jisung between your fingertips.

When you stumble out the front door, the fragrant night air rushes into your lungs. It’s balmy, but the breeze is chilly. It clears your foggy head a little, but does nothing to quell the aching want in your belly.

You turn and meet Jisung’s eyes and something cracks, and before you can take another step to drag Jisung to the ship, he pulls you into the dark, shaded alley right next to the tavern. He’s strong, but his movements are gentle, dark eyes hazy as he pushes you against the wall, his hands skating up to cup your face.

“I can’t wait until we’re on the ship to do this,” he mumbles, hotly, sweetly, and leans in.

He kisses you, and it feels like all the blood in your body is replaced by honey, hot and sticky and sirupy-sweet. His lips are impossibly soft against yours, moving against yours with a barely contained hunger. There’s a tremble in his hand when he drags his thumb over your cheek. He drowns the last dregs of your self-control in his sticky sweetness.

Your lips part and your tongue searches for his, a broken moan shivering out of his throat when they touch, silky and hot, licking against yours like he wants to devour you. He wraps his arms around you, pulls you closer, unashamedly presses you against where he’s hard and straining with desire in his pants, like he wants you to know what you do to him. It makes a shiver of arousal rack through you, and you can no longer resist, allow your hand to slither under his shirt, over the soft, hot skin of his waist. You rake your nails down the soft swell of his abs, and he moans into your tongue. You want to eat up every single sound he makes.

He pulls back when he needs air, his nose still resting against yours, hot breath fanning over your lips.

“I need you,” you whisper and Jisung sighs brokenly, “back to the ship. Now.”

And he complies, grabs your hand, and you run, hand in hand, giggling, through the balmy night, down the dusty streets that are almost empty at this time of night, until your boots slither over the wet wood the quay and you have to slow down. He kisses you again once you’re in the safety of the ship, kisses you, smilingly as he clumsily walks you backwards down the hallway to your quarters.

He’s still kissing you, eagerly licking into your mouth, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist when he pushes open the door. You hear Minho suck in a breath. You turn your head. He’s standing in the middle of the room, the candlelight playing off his sharp cheekbones, painting his dangerous, feline eyes an even darker shade of brown until you think he’s staring into your soul. Jisung is still pressed up against you, presses a wet kiss against your jaw as he watches Minho, too.

His name falls from your lips like a wrecked plea just as Jisung reaches out a hand and there’s no hesitation in the way he takes the few steps it takes for him to get to you. His hands shake when he reaches for you, cradles your face in his trembling hands, fear and tension lingering underneath so much raw, aching desire it makes you dizzy. You breathe out, blink at him, try to tell him wordlessly what you can’t put into words, and he seems to understand. He sighs, lets his forehead fall against yours for just a second before he tips his face forward and kisses you while Jisung watches.

Jisung’s arm around you tightens when Minho shivers out a moan, pries your jaw open with his thumb, slips his tongue into your mouth in the way he knows makes you putty in his hands. When you arch your back into Minho’s touch and brush against Jisung’s hard cock that is still straining against your leg, his breathing goes heavy, his desire like a living thing between you.

Minho’s pupils are blown, when he pulls back, his eyebrows drawn together in a dark determination that you know is him keeping his lust in check, but when he fixes Jisung with these eyes, Jisung gulps.

Minho stares at him, eyes flitting over Jisung’s flushed face, his chest that’s rising and falling sharply, and then, in the blink of an eye, Minho takes a step back, bends down, grabs Jisung’s waist and throws him over his shoulder. Jisung yelps, his hands shooting out, trying to stabilise himself on Minho’s back, and the surprise makes him look so adorable you can’t help but chuckle, letting Minho grab your hand and drag you along into your bedroom. He throws Jisung onto the mattress unceremoniously, Jisung’s body bouncing on the mattress as he struggles to keep up, eyes wide and glued to Minho, who bends down and pulls Jisung’s boots down. The tent in Jisung’s pants is painfully obvious with every shift of his body. Minho looks like he wants to devour him.

Minho gets on the bed, crawls up to Jisung with a predatory look in his eyes and Jisung, half-heartedly, distractedly, scoots back, like he’s trying to escape, but his eyes are glued to Minho, a little moan falling from his lips when Minho wraps his hand around his ankle and drags him back down, pulls him right underneath his body.

“I told you to stop running from me,” Minho growls, and then he swoops down, kisses Jisung so hard the latter’s hips jump off the bed with a debauched moan. Jisung’s hands helplessly hover in the air between them, unsure of where he’s allowed to touch, until Minho grabs one of them and brings it to his waist. Jisung’s fingers dig into the fabric readily, tugging at it desperately as Minho all but devours him.

It sends an odd thrill through you, the image of Jisung underneath Minho. It’s like a maddeningly hot out-of-body experience to see Minho like this, but it’s also impossible to rip your eyes away from Jisung; overwhelmed and turned on and uncertain, pretty and desperate under Minho’s control.

You don’t know if it’s the absinthe, but there’s no shame about it when you crawl onto the bed, get close enough until you can hear the wet slide of their tongues, can see the twitch of Jisung’s fingers, hear Minho suck in a breath when Jisung tugs at his shirt harder. You’re so turned on it’s making you feel dizzy, an aching heat, an embarrassing wetness pooling between your legs. Like you’re bewitched, you lift your hand, trail it up Jisung’s strong arms, over his shoulder, until it’s ghosting over his clothed chest.

Jisung gasps into Minho’s mouth and Minho pulls back, grips his chin between his fingers, fixes him with a look that Jisung is barely able to reciprocate. He’s beautiful when he’s so far gone.

“What do you want, hm?” Minho murmurs, and Jisung keens, his fingers digging into the material of Minho’s shirt and tugging at it.

“Anything,” Jisung mumbles, “everything … you …”

He tries to surge back up to kiss Minho again, but Minho pushes him down, sends you a heated look, before he turns Jisung’s head to you, lets you mould your hand around the sharp line of Jisung’s jaw and drag him into another filthy kiss, one he moans into immediately, his own hand surging up to bury itself into your hair, pulling you closer to lick deeper and deeper. You think you could kiss him like this forever.

His nails rake over your scalp when Minho’s hands slide down his body, under Jisung’s shirt, raking up his abs, find his nipples. He chokes out a moan, spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, and Minho chuckles darkly, pulls Jisung’s mouth from yours by the back of his hair and pulls his shirt over his head.

And despite how gone Jisung already seems, his eyes find yours immediately, gaze dipping down to your lips before he kisses you again, uses his newfound freedom to turn to you better, hands greedily sliding under your shirt, smoothing over the plush of your waist, kneading and dragging his blunt nails over every inch of skin, until his hand finds your tits, and he squeezes, his mouth opening in tandem, his kiss turning filthier and filthier as he rucks your shirt up. Spit is smeared all over your and his pretty peach lips when he pulls the fabric over your head, leaving you bare for his hands to explore.

When he kisses down your jaw, your eyes fall on Minho, towering over the two of you. His hungry eyes are trained on you, glued to your lips, raking down your naked bodies, following Jisung’s hand as he touches you, his own hand palming himself over his pants before he squeezes himself and instead busies himself with untying Jisung’s pants. He groans when Jisung’s cock springs free and smacks against his abdomen, red and hard and leaking from the tip. You can’t tear your eyes from it. It’s perfect.

“No underwear, filthy boy,” Minho growls lowly, and Jisung chuckles cheekily into the skin of your neck before he lets his head loll against the sheets.

“I like how it fee–“

He cuts himself off with a lewd moan when Minho scrapes his nails up the inside of his thighs and wraps his hand around his cock, pumps him a few times, squeezing another few drops of precum from Jisung’s cock. Your mouth damn near waters.

Minho must notice because before you know it, he has shifted his attention to you, leaning up and over you to press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips before peppering more down the column of your throat. He hums appreciatively, taking his time running his tongue over every inch of your skin until he reaches your breasts, sucking a deep red mark in the valley between them before latching his mouth onto your nipple and sucking so hard your back arches off the bed. Jisung next to you moans softly, one hand loosely wrapped around himself as he watches with hungry eyes.

“Always so fucking perfect,” Minho whispers, his tongue laving over your sensitive bud while his fingers are untying the strings on your pants with care, “so fucking perfect for me.”

He looks up at you through hooded eyes, and something in his eyes makes you ache. Your hand finds his hair, scraping your nails over his sensitive scalp in the way you know drives him mad, and his eyelids flutter beautifully. His eyes dart over to Jisung, and he smirks around you, rucks your pants down enough so he can bury his fingertips in your soaked folds, spreading the wetness around just shy of where you need him the most.

“So perfect for us, hm, Jisung?”

Jisung tightens his fist on his cock with a mewl and nods. He looks at you. A strand of his wavy brown hair is plastered to his forehead. You reach up to brush it away. He follows the action like he’s mesmerised.

“Our captain,” he mumbles, and Minho’s finger finally presses down on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Jisung watches with rapt attention as you whimper, brows furrowing, eyes struggling to stay open, stay staring into Jisung’s own.

“Fuck,” Jisung whispers, and you smile. Jisung blinks.

“I need to feel you, Jisung, Jisungie,” you mumble, another moan clawing its way out of your throat when Minho rubs you just so, “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

Jisung’s jaw falls open needily, his hand tightening on himself. More precum pearls out of his pretty cock, drips down his shaft.

“Please, let me,” he whimpers, “God, I want it so bad– fuck, my captain … you sound so wet …”

And you do, Minho’s fingers having done a thorough job of spreading your slick all over your folds, but so does Jisung, the wet sound of his hand working over his cock mixing with the way your cunt squelches when Minho slides his fingers into you so lewd it makes your head spin. When Minho leans in and attaches his lips to your clit, you moan out pathetically loudly.

“Is that what you want, Jisung?” Minho mumbles, the vibrations of his lips against your clit making you mewl. “You want to fuck your captain?” You bury your fingers in his hair, tug so hard you know it must hurt. But you also know he loves it. He groans prettily, his breath coming out in short bursts, as he carefully, maddeningly slowly fucks one finger into you, then two, seemingly more to keep busy than to get either of you any closer to anything. It drives you crazy.

Jisung blushes a deep pink, the colour spreading down the sculpted swell of his chest.

“Want you to fuck me, too, Minho,” he mumbles, “couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Minho chuckles darkly. Jisung bats his eyelashes, twists his hand meanly on his cock and moans.

“You’re so fucking big, want to feel you inside of me so badly,” he slurs.

Minho reaches out, wraps his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and tugs his hand away from his cock, making Jisung mewl out at the loss, pouting at Minho. But the pout melts from his lips, dissolves into a hiccup and a moan, when Minho pulls his mouth away from you, wraps his hand around Jisung’s cock and suckles the head between his lips.

Minho’s hand is still between your legs, his fingers working you open as if his mouth isn’t busy swallowing Jisung down so hard his eyes roll into the back of his head with a choked moan. You watch Minho, watch how his eyes glint with something that can only be described as greed, his eyes on Jisung when he swallows around him, on you when he crooks his fingers, hips barely perceptibly rutting into the bed beneath him. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s getting off on this.

You make up your mind then, giving Minho a smirk as you gently pull his fingers from you. He glares at you and puts up a fight, but he goes pliant under your hands, moans prettily as soon as you get up, kick your pants and shoes off your body and smooth your palms over Minho’s back.

You hum softly, in response, fingers dipping underneath the fabric to trail over the sensitive skin of his back, over to the front, the muscles in his stomach jumping with every shudder of his body. He sinks his head further down, and Jisung chokes out a groan.

“I won’t– I won’t last,” Jisung whines, fingers threading into Minho’s hair in a desperate effort to ground himself. “B-been so long since … hnnng anyone has touched me … like this.”

“How?” you ask breathlessly, gaze glued to his writhing body, his rippling stomach. He chokes out another moan, one that sounds almost like a sob.

“Don’t make me say it …”

He sounds so wrecked, it makes you dizzy with want. Your hungry hands slide down over Minho’s clothed cock where it’s hot and leaking and so fucking tempting. You waste no time, palming him gently, but hard enough that his hips buck into your hand wantonly, like he usually only does when he’s extra needy. You slip past his waistband and take him into your palm. The fact that having both of you underneath him, having Jisung’s cock in his mouth is getting him that riled up, makes you feel insane.

Jisung’s hips jump off the bed, and he hiccups out another moan.

“Fuck, fuck,” he breathes out before the confession tumbles out of his mouth helplessly. “Like you care how I feel, like you want to make me feel good, like you care about me, oh god, Minho, I’m .. I’m gonna … like you l-love me …”

The last words peter out into a desperate sob, and you don’t think he’s even aware he said them when his body locks up and his hips stutter up, and he releases into Minho’s hot, ready mouth. Minho’s cock pulses into your hands, and he fucks into the tight fist you’re offering for him erratically as he swallows Jisung’s orgasm, and then he halts, groans, low and deep in his chest, and cums, spilling ropes of hot and sticky all over your fist and into his pants.

Jisung’s words echo in your head while you stroke Minho through his orgasm, when you pull your hand from him, wipe it on his pants, your guts swirling with warmth and apprehension. It’s not a word you use. It’s not a word you’ve dared to speak since you said, “I love you, too, Dad” for the last time. Never even said it to your mother again. And you know she knew. Until you couldn't anymore. It’s not a word you let yourself use, not even in your head, not even when you think of Minho, though you know, deeply, irrevocably, despite everything, despite how hard you try, that what you feel for him goes so far beyond physical.

And despite everything that happened to him, despite everything the world has done to him, the word had just … tumbled out of Jisung’s mouth.

You wonder what Minho feels – if his own sudden release had something to do with that one little word. You wonder if Minho could ever love you. Or … if he could love Jisung. Find in him something that you couldn’t provide him. The kraken, so blissfully, remarkably quiet so far, stirs uncomfortably in your chest. Your vision is tightening, and you’re wondering how you can somehow escape the oppressing heat of the room when Minho gets up. He turns to you cups your face in his hands, his eyes hazy and soft, a devastatingly handsome smirk on his face, before he rubs his nose against yours and kisses you, softly, sweetly. It’s easy to get lost in, to let yourself get lost in the way his thumbs brush your cheekbones, his tongue maps out every inch of your mouth, the taste of Jisung still on his lips.

Gently, he licks into your mouth, turns you around, guides you onto the bed, parting from you only long enough to pull off his shirt, shove down his soiled pants, and you can barely get a glimpse of his body, his beautiful, strong, familiar body, before he kisses you again, his hands reverently sliding over your skin. And then there’s a second pair of hands joining him, smoothing up your thigh, and a second pair of lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder, and it’s hard to feel anything but warmth and heat and them.

“Let me taste you,” Jisung whispers into your skin, trailing his hot wet lips up your shoulder, up your neck and his breath is searingly hot on the shell of your ear. “You’re one orgasm down, we can’t have that. Let me taste you, please? I want it so bad.”

Minho hums in agreement.

“Let’s see how many times you can make her cum while I open you up.”

Twice, it turns out, is how often Jisung can make you cum with his tongue alone.

He’s a sinful sight, face flushed and messy with your slick, eyes half closed and glazed over as he rubs his tongue all over you with an enthusiasm you have never felt before. He’s messy, lapping up his own spit and your arousal from your pussy with fucked out little hums and moans, fucking his tongue inside of you so deeply, so deftly, you see stars. His technique is not so much technique as a desperation to make you feel good and to feel you everywhere, all at once, in turn, licking inside of you and massaging your clit and nipping at your inner thighs all at the same time, the vibrations of his moans from where Minho is steadily fucking his fingers into his hole driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He moans when you cum and grind against his face, mumbling expletives and fucked out pleas into you, dribbles precum into the sheets when you wrap your legs around his head and he can barely breathe as he steadily works you through your overstimulation and pulls the next one out of you with the help of his fingers buried deep inside you, rubbing the calloused pads of his fingers against your sweet spot. By the time you come down, you’re trembling, can barely think straight with pleasure and have to push him away before he goes for another.

Minho chuckles darkly, smoothes his palms over Jisung’s ass sweetly before giving it a spank. Jisung whimpers, keens into his touch. Minho’s eyes bore into yours.

“Good boy,” he praises Jisung as he stares at you and Jisung preens, smiles dazedly as ruts his ass back into Minho’s soft touches. “Are you ready to get your reward?”

Jisung moans, shakes his head.

“I … I wanna feel you … both,” he whines and Minho blinks twice, before he groans deeply, his hand shooting down to grab his own cock. Jisung, unaware of the effect he has, screws his eyes shut, blushes deeply. “’s so greedy, I know, but I’ve wanted you for so long, I need you both.”

His neediness, his openness, the way he stares at you with a deep blush and such big, needy, eyes when he finally blinks them open – it’s so new to you, so unlike the way you and Minho have been fucking, but it’s not bad. God, it’s not bad. It’s maddeningly, all-consumingly beautiful. Endearing. So hot it makes your stomach turn. Jisung, in all his naked, honeyed beauty, made you feel so warm, so trusted, so … entirely and unequivocally wanted.

You sit up, cup Jisung’s face, tuck a strand of errant hair behind his ear. You watch him blink at you with wide eyes, all innocence, and shock, before you pull him in for a kiss so tender it hurts you. He makes a high sound in the back of his throat, his lips going pliant against yours, letting you take what you need from him, as if you’re not trying to give him everything you could.

You can’t do it for long, the ache of your heart, the threat of the kraken too strong to withstand it when he kisses you back just as tenderly. A helpless little sigh, a press of his nose into your cheek, a soft hand on your thigh, and you pull back, peck his cheek sweetly. Minho is staring at you, his face utterly unreadable. You brush it off, turn around, get on all fours in front of Jisung.

Minho moans lowly, a noise so guttural you know he’s doing his best to try to keep it together, but he’s failing spectacularly.

Jisung scoots closer, breathes out a breathless string of praises as he places his hands on your waist, presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. Minho murmurs something you can barely make out, and then Jisung’s velvety, hard cock brushes against your thigh. Jisung’s arms come to cage you in, warm, soft chest folding over your back, his breath on your neck.

There’s no way for you to know what’s happening behind you, only Jisung’s breath and the small noises he makes to go by, and somehow that makes it all even hotter.

When Jisung tenses against your back, lets his head fall against your spine, all you can do is imagine what he must look like while Minho is sinking himself into him. His cock brushes against your skin again, and you’re dizzy with want.

“God, so fucking tight, Jisung,” Minho mumbles softly, brokenly, so familiarly, and Jisung whimpers. “So fucking good.”

An involuntary, frustrated whine fights its way out of your throat and Minho chuckles, but there’s barely any of his usual cockiness in it. He leans further into you, and it takes you a second to realise it’s his hand that guides Jisung’s cock until his head is pushing against your entrance, head almost breaching you, tantalisingly close to what you really want.

Jisung’s arms are shaking on either side of you, and he’s panting against your neck.

And then Minho slowly pushes all the way into Jisung and pushes him forwards, until Jisung’s cock finally slides into you, sinks into you inch by inch, and the noises it rips out of you and Jisung in tandem are filthy. Minho curses out weakly, digs his fingers into your skin where he’s holding onto you. You can feel his resolve crumbling with every second.

Jisung feels heavenly inside of you, filling you up perfectly, hot and thick to the brim, just a little bit of a stretch. But it’s nothing compared to when Minho starts fucking into him, rutting Jisung’s cock deep into you with every thrust. When Jisung bottoms out entirely, kisses your womb, your arms wobble, and you nearly fold into the sheets, but Jisung’s own shaky arm winds around your waist, holds you up and against him.

“Hm … don’t” he slurs, his breath punched out of him when Minho fucks into him hard, “wann’ feel you.”

So you try to stay upright, for him, but also for the slick, grounding slide of his chest against your back, the sweet noises he pants into your neck. His moans are melodic, divine, every hitch of his breath next to your ear makes you gush around him more.

Minho fucks Jisung harder, makes him mewl, his arm tightens around your waist, his fingers digging into your stomach, and it pulls you up enough for the head of Jisung’s cock to hit your womb over and over and over again, pleasure and pain mingling and shooting through your body until you can feel the tingling all the way in your toes.

Your body is so, so sensitive after your two previous orgasms, and it feels so, so good, and it’s all so much it makes your grip on reality slip, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You whimper out pathetically when the first tear falls, your cunt clenching around Jisung so hard he bucks into you with a hiccupped moan, cursing and moaning wildly. You hear Minho curse out behind you, and then his hands find your waist, holding you steady, holding you in place, and it only drives Jisung deeper and that’s it.

Your back arches, your head falls backwards onto Jisung’s shoulder, you sob, and you fall over the edge, gushing wetness around Jisung’s cock that’s still steadily being driven so deeply into you, you have trouble breathing. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and Jisung whimpers, moans, kisses your shoulders, does his best to hold on, to hold you, to fuck you through it.

As soon as he feels you go slack, he gently lets down so you can collapse onto the bed, pulls himself from your cunt and lets Minho pull him up against his chest. Jisung wraps his free hand around his own cock, and he only pumps twice before he cums with wail, ropes of his spend shooting over your ass and back, clenching around Minho so hard that he follows only a second later, grinding himself in deep with a string of curses and praises as he unloads into Jisung.

You’re boneless, barely aware of the sounds around you, the sticky mess on your back. Jisung collapses next to you with a huff, his hand reaching for yours as he catches his breath, fingers lacing into yours again, just like they did in the tavern, one of his rings cold against your overheating skin. You shiver. You distantly feel Minho wipe at your back, hear him say your name, before you’re tucked into the sheets, pulled into Jisung’s chest, before Minho’s warm, familiar, naked body slides under the sheets, wraps around your back. You fall asleep as soon as he does, with your face smushed into Jisung’s chest, where he’s already snoring next to you.

When Jisung returns to his and Felix’ cabin in the late afternoon of the following day, he half expects Felix to be there, already waiting to interrogate him on where he was last night, why he left with the captain, what on earth he was thinking – but their cabin is empty.

Everything is as he left it, Felix’s bed neat and pretty, his own unmade, sheets still crumpled how he left them before meeting the captain to go and get the maps decoded, a mere 24 hours earlier. 24 hours and so much has changed that he’s dizzy with it. The decoding of his uncle’s maps, the discovery of his murderous plot, one that would cost many people their life, the whole region its stability, the people any hope of changing governance. Finally, an opportunity for revenge, for the captain, but also for him, and for everyone else.

And then … the night.

He still doesn’t know what gave him the confidence to approach her, to touch her, to touch Minho, to open himself, lay himself bare at their feet, telling them how much he wanted them. He doesn’t know if it was the absinthe, or the way the captain’s hazy eyes were dragging over his face, how Minho kept sneaking him glances, gaze snagging on his body. And he hadn’t expected anything to come of it, if anything, he’d banked on them rejecting him,= and hopefully forgetting it ever happened.

But no, Minho had looked at it him with so much heat in his dark, predatory eyes that he nearly sank to his knees right there. And the captain – God, her fluttering eyelids, soft, hazy gazes, silky skin and plump, sweet lips.

He will never forget the way his heart was beating out of his chest when he kissed her for the first time, world hazy with that green drink and the smell of her, rosemary and seawater and sweet, sweet love. His captain, the strongest person he had ever met, all intelligent eyes and mind-numbingly soft yet filthily demanding lips and sinfully soft body that she used with such confidence, indulged him in with so much trust. And Minho, sex on legs, so scary it made him hard, with his surprisingly soft and caring and talented hands and his beautiful, huge fucking cock that made him cum so hard he saw stars.

Jisung isn’t one to sleep around. He doesn’t need to pretend that this isn’t what it is for him. He likes them; is drawn to them like he hasn’t been drawn to anyone before. And he’s long past wondering how he can feel that kind of attraction to both of them. How could he, when their bodies melted together like they did last night.

Through the porthole, he sees the sun where it’s starting to dip below the horizon, past the islands of the cove of Nassau, and realises that Felix probably needs help with dinner, painfully notices that he would’ve needed help with breakfast and lunch, too. He gets to his feet before he can start worrying about what he knows, makes his way to the kitchen, ambling along the hallways, and he can’t help but realise how good he feels. His body feels limber, warm, well taken care of, well fucked. He can’t tell if he wants to keep the feeling to himself or wants to scream it from the rooftops.

When he woke up that morning, it was to the captains body pressed against his back, her tits rubbing against his back, her hand trailing over his stomach, down past his happy trail until she took his half-hard cock into her hand and starting palming him, before she threw the sheets to the side and crawled between his legs. Minho had scooted over, pulled Jisung into a kiss that was beyond anything his wildest wet dreams could’ve conjured up, nipping at his bottom lip and swallowing his moans when the captain sank him into her hot, wet mouth. He had blown his load in record time, cumming much harder than he thought he would be able to after the night before, but the captain’s nails digging into his thighs, Minho’s fingers meanly twisting his sensitive nipples and the captain’s tongue working some kind of witchcraft on his cock made him fold easily.

But they didn’t seem to mind, the captain sliding up to kiss him with traces of his spend still on her tongue, whispering about how irresistible, how perfect he was, until he was dizzy. And then Minho dragged the captain back into the pillows, kissed her quick and dirty, much to Jisung’s cock’s delight, before he slid into her from behind, his cock tearing the most sinful, sigh from his captain’s lips. Minho fucked her lazily, slowly, indulgently, and Jisung had been unable to look away, his own cock already painfully hard again just from the beauty of them, intertwined, right in front of him. Jisung was helpless, followed blindly when captain breathed out his name like a prayer, dragging him closer. He pressed himself to her front, her soft skin sliding against his with every single one of Minho’s thrusts, and he had indulged, swallowing her moans with his mouth, his hand snaked between them to rub his cock against her clit, fingertips sliding down to rub where Minho was fucking into her until she came, creamy and wet, and all over both of them, so filthy and perfect that it pulled Jisung over the edge again, spilling all over her thighs and Minho’s cock when he pulled out and unloaded all over them.

Minho had gotten up without another word, left Jisung in bed with the captain, who calmly told him he was drawing them a bath when she noticed him fidget. And for an anxious second, Jisung had to fight with the knowledge that this was normal for them, that they did this often, they belonged together and he – was an intruder. He felt their tenderness, and he felt like they were all on the same page, but what if that was not what they thought after all. What if he was a temporary distraction, a one-night fling, something to spice things up, before they dropped him as soon as he left the room. But then the captain pulled him in with those same achingly solid, confident, and beautiful hands and kissed him lazily, willing him out of his head and right into her pliant warmth. And she kept kissing him, protesting so heartbreakingly in the back of her throat when he so much as slightly pulled back, and he could do nothing but succumb, lips trailing over skin, sucking bruises and laving tongues, until his lips were swollen and raw and his heart beating in his throat with the sheer magnitude of what he was feeling.

It was clear that whatever the captain and Minho had, was more than sex, whether they labelled it as such or not. They never said it, of course, but it was clear as day in the way they looked at each other, in the way Minho always checked in with her, in the way she touched him, pulled him close, almost like she needed his contact to survive.

He didn’t fully understand why they hesitated, when their love was so beautifully obvious to everyone around them, but he would give them time. He just hoped they would figure it out before they could shatter his own heart into a million pieces. But somewhere along the lines, Jisung seemed to have lost his own sense of self-preservation because he realised he would let them, just for the chance to have them like this, however long he could.

Jisung sends a tentative wave to some of his crew-mates in the living area as he passes, one they return lazily, passing a bottle of rum back and forth, presumably to nurse their way through the worst of their hangover.

The mess and the kitchen are suspiciously quiet as he makes his way in. Jisung assumed he would find Felix in the middle of prep, maybe peeling potatoes or cutting up some other vegetables, but when he opens the door, he is faced with four of his friends, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed in front of them.

Felix front and centre, his eyes furrowed into an expression of disapproval, Chan behind him, scowling in disappointment. Hyunjin was to the side, his head in his hands, as he observed Jisung without a smile. Seungmin sits on a stool, his iron glare boring into Jisung’s soul.

“Wha-,” Jisung asks, but his voice gives out. His heart thumps uncomfortably against his ribcage. He clears his throat, tries again.

“What is this?”

Felix’ frown doesn’t budge. It freaks Jisung out more than anything else. It feels wrong.

“This is an intervention,” he states, simply, and Jisung blinks stupidly. “For you. Because you slept with the captain.”

Jisung’s mouth falls open, ungracefully. The words, spoken like that, burn. He wants to correct him, wants to yell at him, tell him that it was so much more, so much more than just “sleeping together” and so much more than what Felix could ever know. But Felix continues before Jisung can even finish the thought.

“And don’t even try to lie about it, I saw you two leave last night.”

The fact that denial didn’t even enter his mind makes anxiety slam into Jisung like a freight train. Chan straightens up behind Felix, shifts his weight, before he finally explodes.

“I talked to you about this just the other day, Jisung. I came to you, in full trust, and I asked you why you kissed him.”

Jisung blanches. They’re all looking at him. He feels their disapproval like a punch in the gut.

“Yes, I told them, but only after you left with her last night. But the point is – I asked you not to pursue Minho, I told you that they have a thing going on, something that goes much deeper than we all probably know. And you said nothing would happen, and now what? You sleep with her?!”

Felix places a calming hand on Chan’s arm and he deflates. The pots are already boiling on the stove, Jisung notes. Seems like they planned this thoroughly. He feels like he might be sick.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Seungmin pipes up, getting to his feet slowly, calmly. His voice is as steady as ever. “Is this some kind of fucked up game you’re playing? Are you maybe still in your uncle’s pocket after all? Are you trying to take us down by destroying the foundation of our entire crew?”

Jisung makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a cough and an undignified squeal. It’s pathetic, and he hates himself for it so much he wants to throw up.

“Seungmin!” Hyunjin exclaims, and glares at the younger man. Seungmin just shrugs.

“Why beat around the bush?”

Hyunjin shakes his head and gets up, walks over to Jisung. Jisung notices how his eyes drag over his neck, and he suddenly feels very self-conscious, feels the drag of the captain’s lips against his skin still, feels his heartbeat in a bruise Minho sucked right below his jaw.

“Jisung, we don’t think you’re lying to us, okay?” Hyunjin reassures him, and he looks like he could be telling the truth, at least.

“But,” he continues, carefully, eyeing Jisung like he might explode any second. And he might. “you have to understand – we don’t know why else you would be … doing this. Going after the captain’s partner, then the captain herself. And now sleeping with her?! Do you have any idea what will happen when Minho finds out?!”

Hyunjin goes a little pale at the thought. He looks genuinely worried when he whispers the next words. “He’ll kill you.”

The implication, how wrong all of this is, finally pushes Jisung out of his stupor. He opens his mouth, tries to find the words, loses his courage. He wills his heartbeat back into his chest. Fixes his gaze on the floor.

“You … you don’t understand,” he mumbles lamely, and he hears Chan scoff. But Hyunjin steps closer, places a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“Try us. Maybe we can.”

“Hyunjin,” Felix says sharply, “we talked about this.”

But Hyunjin just fixes him with a glare before turning back to Jisung. Jisung feels suffocated under their eyes, the fading bites on his skin, the phantom of the pleasure still in his bones, it’s too much.

“I didn’t sleep with the captain,” he exclaims, and flinches, ”well, I did, but …”

“What the fuck?!” Chan barks, and Jisung flinches. He steels himself, and faces his angry face, all their angry, disbelieving faces. He lifts his hands defensively, hides behind them because he’s … scared, he realises.

“Let me finish. I did sleep with her, but I promise, it won’t be a problem, okay? Because … because,” it’s like the whole room is holding its breath waiting for him to drop the bomb. Then he realises it’s just him, and finally exhales. Shakily.

“… because Minho was there, too.”

Silence. Deafening silence.

Hyunjin takes a surprised step back, ogles him with wide eyes. Chan breathes out a quiet what?!, and even Seungmin looks shocked. “What do you mean Minho was there?” Felix asks, incredulous. Jisung blushes even harder. His face feels like it’s about to go up in flames. His chest like it will cave in. He thinks he might not make it through this conversation.

“Well, he was there. But not just … I mean, he was also … uhh … involved, so to speak …”

Everyone is still staring at him, so he just sighs loudly, throwing his arms up in defeat. Anxiety makes him stupid sometimes.

“We all fucked, okay? I fucked the captain, Minho fucked me, he fucked her, he sucked me off, I ate her out, …”

All four of them yell almost in unison, Chan trying to cover his ears, Seungmin squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well, fuck you! You asked!” he yells indignantly, irritation bubbling in his guts. This was really messing up his post-best-night-of-his-entire-life glow.

“You’re not fucking with us?” Felix asks, and Jisung shakes his head. Out in the living area they hear Minho’s loud voice yell something, and Hyunjin looks at Jisung, then at the door, and before he Jisung can stop him, he darts out. He returns moments later, dragging a confused, slightly irritated Minho behind him. When his eyes fall on Jisung, they do something that Jisung had never seen before. A softening, a glimmer of familiarity. It’s breathtaking. Jisung almost makes the mistake of smiling at him like a lovesick fool. But he catches himself.

“Minho, we need you to be honest with us. What did you do last night?” Felix asks, sombrely, but much softer than he was to Jisung. Jisung bristles, turns to Minho.

“They ambushed me to confront me about last night, and they refuse to believe what you were there,” he explains, and Minho’s face goes from confused, to angry, to stony. Then he slowly turns to Felix, nails him with a glare so utterly dark, Jisung doesn’t know how Felix can stand it. But he does.

“What did I tell you about speculating about the captain and my private life? And what did I say I would do to you if you told other people about your theory?”

If Felix is intimidated, he’s hiding it well. He tosses his head.

“We’ve all long known that something is going on between you and the captain, and your secret is safe with us. Nobody beyond this room knows, and none of them will learn of this conversation. We just want to make sure nobody is fucking with our captain.”

Minho stares at him for a little longer.

“Nobody beyond this room?”

Felix shakes his head.

“Nobody beyond this room knows what we’re talking to Jisung about, and nobody will know.”

Minho nods, freezes for a second, blinks. Then an almost eery, slightly evil smile stretches across his lips. Felix, to Jisung’s satisfaction, finally looks a little bit uncertain.

Minho half turns to Jisung, fixes him with a look that makes a shiver run down Jisung’s spine.

“In that case,” he muses, “Jisungie’s not lying. He was with me and the captain last night.”

Jisungie. Jisung’s heart skips a beat.

And before he knows what’s happening, Minho takes two steps towards him, easily tips his head up with his thumb and kisses Jisung, right there, right in front of them. Jisung’s eyes widen before they slip shut, and he melts into it. Minho licks into his mouth, practised, almost sweetly, and altogether way too filthily for the situation they find themselves in. Jisung knows it’s to punish them. He kisses him back dirtier. Minho smiles against his lips. He’s already aching with need all over again.

But Minho pulls back much too quickly, leaving Jisung dazed and sobering and blushing and entirely unable to meet anyone else’s eyes.

“That clear things up?” Minho asks, looking straight at them, sickeningly sweetly, his hand still cupping Jisung’s face. He doesn’t even wait for their response before he turns on his heels and stomps out of the kitchen. Jisung wishes he could just follow him, but he has to face the music.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin says softly, hesitantly comes closer again. He places his hands on his shoulders, but Jisung’s patience is at its limit. He brushes Hyunjin off, ignores the latter’s pained grimace.

“Why do you always assume I’m lying?” he asks, indignation thick in his voice. The faces looking back at him are surprised, Hyunjin just looks guilty.

“No matter what I do, you always think I’m trying to sell you out. Last time with Minho, now with this. Why are you so dead set on the fact that I’m going to betray you, when I have done nothing to make you think that?! I keep telling you that I’m on your side, I kill my uncle’s men right in front of you, I help the captain and Minho formulate a plan to take him down and then … I come back here and the first thought you have when I just … do what I want to do, is that I’m, somehow, trying to sell you out?! What the fuck?!”

He feels a familiar tightness in his chest and the way Chan avoids his eyes, the way Hyunjin grimaces at him, it only makes him angrier.

“Just say you don’t fucking trust me and be done with it. But that means what I do and who I fuck is none of your goddamn business.” And with those words, he turns around and stomps out of the room. Nobody even calls after him.

He pretends to be asleep later that night, when Felix turns in for the night. He’s later than usual, Jisung can tell from the position of the moon he’s been staring at for the last few hours as he has willed the warmth, the pleasure back into his body, where it had been displaced by cold shame. He hasn’t been very successful. He could’ve gone back to Minho and the captain, but he couldn’t bring himself to. If they rejected him now he might do something stupid. He still might, because the thought of them, together, as they always have been, happy and sweet and without him, as they always fucking have been, sends him spiralling into territory he would rather not go.

But now Felix is here, changing out of his clothes quietly. Jisung knows he’s late because Jisung wasn’t there to help with clean-up. He knows it’s petty, but he thinks it’s only fair.

When Felix has changed out of his clothes, he doesn’t climb up to his cot immediately, like he usually does. He wavers, before he gingerly sits on Jisung’s bed.

Jisung can’t swallow down the scoff he makes. Felix doesn’t take the bait. Jisung wishes he did. Anger would be easier.

“I think it’s because nobody around here has ever been as honest as you,” Felix finally murmurs. He sounds apologetic. He hesitates for a moment, as if to see if Jisung will interrupt him. But Jisung stays stubbornly silent.

“The likes of us usually don’t go around wearing our hearts on our sleeve like you do. Even when we’re on someone’s side, we play our cards close to our chest. Because you never know, you know? It takes a lot for us to trust someone. Because we all got fucked over one too many times by people we thought we could trust”

Jisung stays still, lets Felix’ words wash over him.

“But you …” Felix continues, and lets out a weak little laugh, “you walked in that first day, and you seemed to have already decided that you would trust us. You gave us your story and told us you’d be ready to turn against not just the governor, but your own family and … well, nobody else has ever just been like that. It almost felt … too good to be true.”

Jisung clamps his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to give Felix the satisfaction of arguing with him again. Not after everything else has been used against him.

“But that’s not your fault, is it,” Felix murmurs, and Jisung can’t help it any more. He turns around, sits up, stares at Felix. Puffy eyes and bruised neck and shame and all. Felix looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor. “I think it’s admirable. It’s … it’s why I like you so much. I’m pretty sure it’s why the captain likes you, and Minho, too. Scratch that, it’s why everyone has been so immediately taken with you. You are so easy to love, so easy to trust, we’re just all … hurt and jaded and in pain …”

“So am I, though …” Jisung mumbles and Felix huffs out a small, humourless laugh. He places his warm hand on Jisung’s leg. Jisung hates how much the touch soothes him. Felix gives him a sad little smile.

“Well, then you’re doing a hell of a job loving regardless.”

Jisung doesn’t entirely know what that means, but he doesn’t ask. After a beat of silence, Felix speaks again.

“What I’m trying to say is that we’re sorry, I’m sorry. The thing is, we do trust you, deep down, more than we would anyone else considering how long we’ve known you, and we love that you’re part of the crew because you added so much. Maybe that’s why the idea of you turning on us now is extra painful. It would shatter a lot of our trust, again, and, like I said, we’re already bad at that. Trusting people.”

He squeezes Jisung’s thigh one more time, before he gets up. Jisung misses it. Felix hesitates in front of his bed, fiddles with the hem of his pyjama shirt, avoiding Jisung’s eyes.

“Can I ask, though … If you didn’t sleep with the captain and Minho to break them apart, why did you sleep with them?”

Jisung stares at him, feels his face heat up. His chest aches where his heart is threatening to break.

“Because I wanted to,” he says quietly, eyes falling to the patchwork of his sheet, plucking at a stray piece of string.

“Do you … I mean, is it just fun or … do you like them?” Felix asks, and Jisung huffs out a humourless laugh.

“I really like them. Both of them. Like, way more than I should.”

Felix hums, but Jisung doesn’t dare look up. The silence he’s met with hurts. Feels portentous.

“Be careful, Jisung, with your heart,” Felix finally says. It’s small. Quiet. “When I say we’re bad at trust, I mean we can also be pretty bad at that kind of thing. Love. We don’t usually get to have that any more. We usually think we … don’t deserve it.”

Jisung feels his words like tiny little knives stabbing him in his chest. Outwardly he just nods and Felix looks at him, sighs, and turns to climb up to his cot.

“Okay, enough lecturing. I’m sorry, Jisung, I really am. And I trust you. I’m glad you found us.”

He already has one foot on the ladder when Jisung manages to breathe out his name.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Felix chuckles, light and airy, and it makes some of the weight from Jisung’s heart dissolve into the night.

“Of course, silly,” he says and lunges onto Jisung’s bed, tackling him to the mattress. Jisung squeals, yells, pretends to shove Felix off, but the warm weight of him, his hair, soft and still smelling like plum pudding, it’s all he needs.

They wrestle and yell until Changbin slams his fist into the wall and yells at them to shut up.

< chapter VII - chapter IX (coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET) >

series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi

🔖 series taglist and 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

#skz smut #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee know smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #minsung x reader #minsung smut #indie likes #skzms best writer i might just fucking steal your imagination and brain

295 notes · View notes

leesjuicycalves · 8 days

Text

Left me at a very very very high clifff maaaan😫😩😩🥺....been reading this since day 1 n each chapter is better than the previous one🥰🖤

@skzms i will read this series even if am on life support 😩🥰

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

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: will the code be cracked? will the captain, jisung, and minho finally crack, too?

word count: 7.7k

warnings: mentions of parent death; mentions of murder; ptsd flashback? very mild, tough; probably ooc ryunjin and yeji cameos; drinking

author's note: wheeee this one has lotsa plot (something still so new for me and this chapter felt like a huge turning point in my writing but I hope you like itttt) but also some other developments 👀 and some more minho backstory. enjoy!!!!!! ily all!!

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter VI - chapter VIII (coming: friday, april 26, 3pm CET) >

Minho thinks he can smell the stink of Nassau as soon as the ship rounds the sandbanks and palm trees of Hogg Island and enters the channel. It’s unlikely, he knows, but something about the familiar view of the tree-strewn main island, the church bells ringing across the water, of the squat houses along the coast, the call of the herring gulls overhead.

He forces himself to stand on the quarterdeck next to the captain, behind Seungmin, who navigates past the sandbank and into the wide harbour. When they get closer, Jeongin pokes his head out from the lookout.

“They are signalling for us to anchor at the quay!” he yells, surprise evident in his voice.

Hyunjin scoffs further down the deck, leans against the railing next to Chan.

“They know we’re about to make their traders half a year’s worth of money.”

The captain shrugs, a small, but pleased smile on her lips.

“Dock at the quay then, Seungmin,” she orders, and Seungmin nods.

Twenty minutes later, Minho’s boot hits the slippery wood of the Nassau quay – and now he’s really smelling it, the distinct mix of brackish water and heat-spoiled rum. A laughing gull starts its maniacal cackle on a pole sticking out of the water right next to him and suddenly, it’s 16 years earlier.

12-year-old Minho, tears running down his cheeks, mixing with the rainwater that was slowly, ruthlessly soaking him to the bone as he heaved shovelfuls and shovelfuls of wet, heavy mud out of the cemetery plot he had begged the vicar to let him have. He didn’t even have a headstone, only a cross he had nailed together out of one of their chairs and carved her name into, but he wanted her to have this. A resting place to call her own. The vicar had had pity on him, and had probably seen her at his services often enough. That, or he knew that Minho didn’t have anyone else to ask money from. He was alone in the world now.

Another shovelful hits the grass next to the hole he’s digging, and he sobs, his lithe arms shaking and his heart a dead thing in his chest, his mother’s voice still in his ears, telling him that he will be okay, that he can do anything he sets his mind to. That he’s her son, and that that alone means he will survive anything.

She didn’t, though. She was dead. He had found her, in her room. And now he was burying her. Or trying to.

He hears the laughing gull when the shovel slips out of his hands the first time. Intoning its mocking laughter, as the mud cakes into Minho’s wounds, stings so bad it drives more tears from his eyes. Only a few more feet to go, he tells himself; tells himself his mother is watching, has her warm, soft hand on his shoulder as he digs. He owes her this. The cold, gold cross is stuck to his chest. The laughing gull cackles. He picks up the shovel again.

“Minho?”

Hyunjin’s hand finds his shoulder and squeezes. His voice cuts through the fog in Minho’s head and suddenly the air is warm, the sun is burning down on him, his mother has been dead and buried for 16 years and he survived.

“Hmm?” is the only answer he can muster, along with a grimace of a smile. Judging by the look on Hyunjin’s face, he is not fooling anyone.

“Take a deep breath for me?” Hyunjin suggests softly and Minho does, focuses on the sun, the sound of the water lapping against the ship, on Hyunjin behind him and takes a shaky breath in and out. Hyunjin massages his shoulders gently, hums encouragingly.

“There you go,” he mumbles, rounding Minho so he can look at him. His eyes are big and full of worry. “Better?”

Minho blinks at him, nods, something tiny and needy raising its head in his heart; he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed his friends these last few months.

“Thanks,” he breathes out, but Hyunjin just smiles, shakes his head. Minho returns his smile, and it’s shaky, but apparently more convincing because Hyunjin pats his shoulder one more time before he steps back.

“Will you be okay? I need to go see about rations, but do you want me to get Changbin?” Minho shakes his head.

“’Captain and I are about to go see the code person now.”

Hyunjin nods, gives Minho’s shoulder one more solid squeeze before he turns and walks off and into town. The laughing gull has long since flown off, only the herring gulls crying above him as he waits.

But when the captain climbs down from the ship, any and all warmth Hyunjin left behind vanishes. Because Jisung is right behind her.

Minho’s shoulders tense almost immediately. Jisung fixes him with a shy look that is entirely too infuriating for Minho to handle. The gall, to act innocent …

“Minho, you ready?” the captain asks, quirking her eyebrow and giving him a glare that Minho doesn’t need so much as a second thought to interpret as be nice or else. He can be nice, he thinks. Though it seems that’s more Jisung’s forte. Being overly nice and worming his way into business that isn’t his.

His nod to the captain is terse, but she accepts it, motions for them to follow her down the quay and into the small town. He doesn’t spare Jisung another glance, his eyes stubbornly ahead or on the captain as she takes them down a lane to the right that leads straight out of the small town.

Minho doesn’t look left when they pass the street he knows leads to the old church with the little churchyard that he hasn’t been to in 16 years, though its presence burns a hole into his heart. Only when they’re almost all the way out of town does he realise his fists are clenched.

They walk in complete silence for a while, Minho’s scowl enough to intimidate Jisung and make the captain not want to deal with him. He doesn’t fight it. They walk and Minho notices, with considerable relief, how the stench of Nassau fades as they walk down the long dirt road. It’s almost serene out here, with the sea glimmering on one side, huts scattered along the road on the other, closely bordered by thick woodland. There are more birds out here, apart from gulls. A swallow flits from tree to another with a vibrant twitter, a heron stalks through the marshy water of a little inlet.

When they’ve gone a decent way out of town, the captain finally comes to a halt in front of one of the scattered huts. It’s a relatively large one, two-stories of wood with the paint chipping off, surrounded by an overgrown garden and bordered by a rotting, hand-built fence that looks like it’s seen better days. There are countless pots of all shapes and sizes lined up along the side of the house, bushels of herbs and other exotic plants Minho doesn’t recognise thriving towards the sun. The whole garden is unkempt, the native plants, taking advantage of their native soil, battling some more exotic plants that have clearly been planted with purpose. Nobody seems to bother to mediate this fight. Despite the heat of the day, there’s smoke billowing out of the chimney.

“Let’s hope they can help us,” the captain murmurs, and pushes open the rickety gate. Minho follows her first, leaving Jisung behind him, following right behind her as she walks up to the front door of the hut and knocks confidently.

There’s a commotion from the inside, and the door opens just a crack before it’s ripped open entirely. All Minho sees is a flurry of wispy black hair before two arms with countless golden bangles and bracelets wrap around the captain’s shoulders with a deafening jingle, pulling her into a crushing hug that almost sweeps her off her feet. The captain breathes out a yelp and a giggle, bubbly and light and entirely unfamiliar.

The blur of wispy hair and golden bangles pulls back, and Minho sees it’s a young woman, around the captain’s age, with a boyish face, sparkly eyes and a gigantic, warm smile on her face. She takes the captain by the shoulders and shakes her gently.

“You haven’t come to visit in three years, Y/Nie!” she exclaims, but it’s clear she’s just teasing. There’s no hiding the excitement in her voice.

The captain giggles again, and Minho swears it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.

“I’m sorry, Ryu,” she says, squeezes the other woman’s arms back, “I’m a little busy these days.”

“Of course, captain,” the woman laughs, and winks. Then her gaze finally sweeps past her old friend and lands on Minho and Jisung, her face falling, an unfocused confusion in her eyes as she looks between them, and then the captain a few times. There’s something penetrating in her gaze, like she’s seeing much more than he wants her to, and it unsettles him, makes anxiety prickle all over his body. Ryujin blinks at the captain, and the captain laughs nervously.

“Sorry, how rude of me. This is Minho, my second-in-command, and this is Jisung, he just joined us recently.”

Minho bows tensely, trying not to squirm away from the strange woman’s stare. Jisung next to him is a fidgeting mess, blushing as he bows. The captain turns to them.

“And this, this is Ryujin. She’s one of my oldest friends, along with … is Yeji here? We kinda need her help.”

Ryujin nods, and turns around, waving for the three of them to follow her.

As soon as Minho steps over the threshold, it’s like he steps into a furnace. There’s a fire burning in the fireplace, something bitter and herbal smelling brewing in a pot, and it fills the entire room with an excruciatingly moist heat and an overwhelming aroma. Sweat starts beading on his forehead almost immediately. Next to him, Jisung stumbles over a stack of books and Minho glares at him. Jisung blushes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and Minho rolls his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you so nervous?”

Jisung shrugs, his bottom lip jutting out.

“I dunno, I just … I get nervous around new people, okay?” Minho rolls his eyes again, but he feels a flicker of warmth deep in his chest as he watches Jisung, his eyes big and sparkling in the low light of the fireplace, ringed fingers twisting around each other. He smothers the flicker brutally.

“Baby, is that really Y/Nie or am I hearing things,” a female voice calls from upstairs and as soon as Ryujin calls up an affirmative, a woman with cat-like features and fire-red hair comes barreling down the stairs, squealing as she runs towards the captain, who catches her effortlessly, twirls her around.

“I can’t believe it took you so long to come visit,” the woman, Yeji, Minho assumes, breathes into the captain’s hair before she pulls back, holding her at arm’s length so she can look her over. Then she gives the captain a playful glare.

“I wrote?” The captain offers, sheepishly, and Yeji rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips.

“Don’t even believe for a second that we didn’t hear about it every time you were in Nassau and didn’t make your way out here.”

The captain’s face falls, an unfamiliar shadow of uncertainty and embarrassment in her eyes. In another world, Minho has the ability to reach out, wipe the sadness from her beautiful face. In this one, he just watches, his face schooled into a cool neutrality. Jisung next to him fidgets with a ring.

“I … I couldn’t …” she starts, but trails off, dropping her gaze to the floor, “I never had the time, either we didn’t stay long enough or I couldn’t get away from the ship. I promise, I …”

Yeji shuts her up by pulling her into another hug.

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you. All that matters is that you’re here now. Why don’t we take a look at whatever that is in your bag. But before that …”

She turns to Minho and Jisung, sending them a bright smile. Minho likes her better, she doesn’t give him the creeps.

“My name’s Yeji, I’m Ryujin’s wife. Half of our love story wouldn’t have been possible without Y/N actually, so we’re always happy to see her.

“Hardly,” the captain interjects, “you only talked a stranger’s ear off about this really cute clairvoyant girl you wanted to go see until said stranger took pity on you and went with you.”

Clairvoyant? That would explain why she’s so creepy.

Yeji sticks her tongue at the captain. Minho tries to imagine a younger captain, her expression less schooled, her gait less confident, her hair maybe longer, her eyes brighter, in a bar, all by herself. He wonders if he would remember if he met her then. Wonders if he would’ve had the courage to go up to her, to strike up a conversation. Wonders if they would’ve even gotten along. His heart wants to say yes.

“Well, if you hadn’t been there that night, I would’ve never gotten the courage to go see her. And then we wouldn’t have exchanged names, and we wouldn’t be here today. But enough about us,” she laughs, and turns back to the two men, “you are?”

Minho bows, tries to smile at Yeji, but it’s hard. He’s not good at this.

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

Yeji greets him, a gentle smile on her lips, before she turns to Jisung. Jisung’s face is flushed, whether because of the frankly ridiculous heat in the room or because he’s still nervous, Minho doesn’t know. He bows, too, but when he rises, he sends Yeji such a disarming, crooked smile that Minho gets annoyed. Of course, he would make a better first impression.

“H- Jisung, my name’s Jisung, I joined the captain’s crew recently.”

Ryujin suddenly gasps.

“Oh, that’s interesting!”

Minho can’t help the scowl on his face when he looks over at her. Yeji turns around, but the captain intercepts the situation.

“Jisung is Han Yujun’s nephew. We found him on one of his uncle’s ships, and he wanted to join us.”

Yeji’s eyes narrow. She lets her eyes drag up and down Jisung’s form.

Jisung straightens up, his nervous hands twisting together in front of him. One of his knuckles cracks and Minho wants to reach out, still those cursed, restless hands. Jisung wearing his heart on his sleeve drives him fucking crazy. It would get him killed one day.

“They saved me, really,” Jisung offers with a much weaker smile now, “my uncle has always hated me, tried to get me killed on foolhardy missions. And I hate him, for what he did to me, for what he does to everyone else under his governance. I want him gone.”

Yeji throws a glance at Ryujin, waits until the latter has stared at Jisung for another few seconds and gives some kind of nod of approval. Once she does, Yeji relaxes.

“Well, an enemy of Han Yujun’s, whatever shape he may take, is a friend of ours. Welcome, you two.”

“That’s actually what we need your help with, Yeji,” the captain begins. Carefully, she pulls the two maps from her satchel, walks over to the table in the middle of what most likely is meant to be the dining room, but is really only another densely packed living room, and unrolls them.

“These are maps we intercepted on Han Yujun’s ships. One on the one Jisung was on, another on one that attacked us a few weeks later. At first, we thought they were maps, but geographically, they make … no sense. So we figured, they’re …”

“A code,” Yeji breathes out, her eyes fixed on the maps as if she’s magnetised to them. She takes them from the captain’s hands, and arranges them on the table, pulling a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer.

“Exactly,” the captain breathes out. She watches Yeji carefully, throws a glance to Ryujin, whose eyes are impassive, “and with how intricate the maps are, how carefully drawn, the fact that the edges are gilded – it all speaks to the fact that Han Yujun was trying to impress someone.”

Yeji runs a finger over the tangled up shapes around the edge of the map, scribbles something down.

“If you can even just help us find out who that is, we would already get us further than we have in years. But if we can find out what these messages say, there’s no telling what we might be able to do.”

Minho can hear it, the tremor in the captain’s voice. Ever since he can remember, all the petty criminals they fought, the crews of wayward pirates who went against the code, who violated everything humanity stood for, the end goal had always been Han Yujun, the man who had ruined more lives than they could count.

“Gilded edges,” Ryujin mumbles, and shakes her head.

Jisung steps up to the table, though he still looks nervous, half his body hiding behind the captain’s.

“My uncle always tried to impress the other governors of these islands,” Jisung says, a hand running through his shaggy hair restlessly. When the captain turns to him, his ears tint pink, “throwing lavish dinners he couldn’t afford, forcing himself into jewelled waistcoats that he barely managed to button up. It was pitiful, most of the other governors hated his guts.”

Ryujin frowns, but chuckles drily.

“Not like they’re any better.”

Jisung shrugs.

“Some of them were better than others, but none of them were worse than my uncle. Most of them caught onto him pretty fast, only visited once, twice at most, before it dawned on them what a piece of shit he was. Avoided him like the plague afterwards, …”

Ryujin hums. There’s a faraway look in Jisung’s eyes, and he buries his fists in his pockets. The captain slides a comforting arm around Jisung’s shoulders, gives him a little squeeze. Jisung leans into the touch, gives her a shy smile, bats his eyelashes at her. Minho wants to shove Han Jisung into the ocean.

“Well, sounds like we’d be doing more people a favour by putting your uncle behind bars,” the captain jokes and Jisung laughs. There’s a familiarity between them that makes Minho’s stomach churn.

“You’d be doing everyone a favour,” Jisung sighs, and rolls his eyes, his head tipping in her direction just enough that he can blink at her cheekily, making the captain breathe out a light little laugh that Jisung drinks in greedily.

Scratch that. Minho wants to drown Han Jisung with his bare fucking hands.

But he stays where he is, aching, wanting to be anywhere but here and yet nowhere else but by her side. Nausea rises in his throat. If only it wasn’t so fucking hot in this room, he thinks, as a bead of sweat drips down his neck.

Yeji is still scowling at the paper, scribbling furiously, and Ryujin sighs.

“She’ll be busy with that for a while, why don’t you help me make some tea, Y/N?”

The captain nods, throws Minho a glance that he hopes he returns with some semblance of normalcy, though there’s no telling any more, and follows Ryujin into another room.

“I’ll wait outside,” Minho announces into the silence as soon as she’s gone. His voice sounds odd and out of place in the room, and he turns around before he is forced to reckon with an answer.

Minho knows that the air outside is technically hot, humid, and hot, but compared to the sweltering heat of the little hut, the breeze blowing over his sweaty neck actually makes him shiver. Letting his eyes rove over the small garden, he spots a small metal bench, tucked into a little spot against a hedge that borders the rickety fence. He takes a few steps towards it, eyes it carefully to make sure it can actually hold him. But it looks sturdy enough. He sinks down, and he lets his head fall into his hands. He takes a deep breath. It comes out shaky.

He hates being back here. He fucking hates Nassau with all his heart. For everything it did to him, everything it took from him. He hates even more who he becomes when he’s here, all jittery and quick to anger, his heart like an open wound in his chest. He feels strung out, bared to the elements, to anyone who looks to close. He doesn’t want them to, doesn’t know what he’ll do if they do.

His mother never liked it either. She would tell him all about it, all those nights they spent huddled together on the dilapidated porch of their home – tell him how any day now she would finally have enough money to hitch them a ride on a ship to go … somewhere else. She always said it was going to be a surprise, but adult Minho knows better – she never had a plan, her only urge was to just get as far away from Nassau as possible.

Away from her history, away from the little churchyard where her parents lay buried, and where she would be buried not long after, away from the creditors, away from the pimp who, as Minho found out many years later, blackmailed her into staying with him by threatening to expose who Minho’s father was.

Minho took care of them all, one by one, over the years. Found the men who had driven his mother onto the path that would eventually lead to her death. He made sure they knew why he was killing them before he did. He made it painful, he made it cruel. Wiped out their confidants, their secretaries, anyone who could take up their mantle.

In retrospect, he knows that something wasn’t right with him back then. But when it was done, when every last one of them was taken care of and Minho finally knew he did all he could, he felt free. Black and dead, but free. And still so lonely it took his breath away sometimes.

He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars, feels pinpricks of pain in his eyeballs. He hears the door of the hut open, the thud of boots coming down the path, then stop. When he looks up, he makes eye contact with Han Jisung. Minho sighs.

“There’s really no escaping you, huh,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Jisung, but he can’t help but notice how Jisung’s face falls, before he sets his eyebrows, tosses his head and walks over to Minho.

Minho watches him calmly as he approaches and sits down next to him, the little metal bench squeaking under the extra weight.

Somewhere in the distance, a gull cackles. Minho’s knuckle cracks where he squeezes his hand into a fist.

“I mean … It was really awkward in there, yes, but I actually, …” Jisung starts, stares at Minho before he blinks, and averts his eyes, gaze falling to his hands that are folded in his lap. He starts fiddling with his rings again. Minho squeezes his fist tighter. His knuckles crack again.

“I actually wanted to apologise,” Jisung finally says, and Minho’s thoughts grind to a screeching halt. He blinks at Jisung, who’s still not looking at him.

“I wanted to apologise for … for kissing you.”

The last words come out in barely more than a whisper. He chuckles awkwardly. He twists one ring so hard is hand slips.

“I mean, if I’m honest, it kinda rocked my world, but I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have just … done that. Not after saying what I did. Which I’m also sorry for, by the way. I was talking to Chan, and … let’s just say I know now that you wouldn’t have called me by my abuser’s nickname if you’d known. Not you.”

Minho’s still frozen in place, his heart thundering in his chest. He wants to say many things. Wants to ask what on earth he meant when he said it rocked his world. Wants to ask what Chan told him, why they were talking about him. In the end, he settles for none of that.

“I’m not the most observant,” he mumbles and Jisung chuckles. It’s a light little thing, as light as the breeze that makes more goosebumps shiver down Minho’s spine.

“I mean, you are,” Jisung hums, looks up at Minho and smiles. Minho barely dares to breathe. “It just depends on who you’re watching. I know one person you look at more than anyone else.”

Something painful curls in Minho’s guts. The memory of Jisung’s skin, of his lips, of how he had run back to her, thrown himself into her body, trying to make it up to her, trying to forget the guilt – but most of all trying to forget the fact that there was no reason to feel guilty because she wasn’t his, he wasn’t hers, she, for all he knew, could’ve done lord knows what with lord knows who, and he may have never known. Even when he couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t see any point in anyone else as long as she …

Minho doesn’t answer Jisung. Just averts his gaze, stares across the garden at a tall Jasmine bush, focuses on the little white flowers, the scent of them in the air. Jisung next to him is quiet, too. Less fidgety, though Minho knows he probably wants an answer that Minho can’t give him. Better to get used to the disappointment early, Minho thinks.

Suddenly, there’s a commotion inside the little hut, a triumphant cheer, then a yell of the captain’s name. Minho is on his feet before he can even think, Jisung hot on his heels as he hurries back inside.

When he opens the door, the captain lifts her head, makes eye contact with him and Minho knows.

They got him.

“He’s trying to get out from under the crown,” she laughs out, Yeji next to her has a triumphant smile on her lips. Ryujin is leaning over the captain’s shoulder, reading Yeji’s notes. But the captain is staring at him.

“He’s trying to sell the territory to the Spanish, pocketing the money before turning around and staging a coup and making them independent. And he’s trying to recruit other governors to do the same, to maximise their chances, their gains. This is …”

“High treason,” Minho breathes out. “High fucking treason.”

The captain nods, and then her lips stretch into the biggest smile and Minho takes a hesitant step forward before he stops again. He’s itching to take her into his arms, to wrap her legs around his waist, twirl her around, kiss her breathless, feel her smile against his lips. But he stops himself, watches as she blinks at him, her pretty, ringed hands twitching around the paper, her mouth opening like she wants to say something. There’s a shadow that crosses her face. But Minho can’t have that, he needs her to feel this, the culmination of all her work, all her sacrifices over the years.

So he smiles at her, makes his way over, stepping up to the side of her that Ryujin readily concedes to him, leans some of his chest against her arm.

He reads.

HYJ to NT. Planned date of sale to SP 20 May 16––. Matthew Town.Independence when agreed capital is made over to us and defence against crown secured. Pray confirm.

Then underneath it.

HYJ to LD. Planned date of sale to SP 20 May 16––. Making over of San Salvador from NT September 16–– in exchange for defence against crown + NT head. Pray confirm.

“Double timing, bastard,” he mumbles, and the captain snorts out a laugh.

“I doubt he could swing this, maybe we should just let it play out.”

Minho scoffs, grasps the opportunity to turn to her, closing the gap between their bodies enough so he can let his hand rest softly on her lower back where nobody can see. He scrapes his nails over the fabric of her shirt, watches her eyes glimmer.

“I’m not taking any chances with this piece of shit. I’d sail across the entire ocean and hand-deliver him to that old hag, the queen if it meant I could see him hang.”

Yeji snorts, and he gives her a dark smirk. He really does like her. Ryujin next to her, has her eyes fixed on where Minho’s hand is still ghosting over the captain’s back. She couldn’t possibly see, so how … He’s distracted by Yeji turning abruptly to Jisung, who was still lingering by the door, a little ways away from the group of them. He looks lost, only hesitantly steps closer. The captain wordlessly hands him the translated note. He reads. Hums.

“What’s up with you?” Yeji asks, and there’s an edge to her tone. “Changed your mind? Suddenly feeling the need to defend your dear uncle? Run off to tell him that we have him cornered?”

Jisung scoffs, and sends her a glare, the first unkind thing he’s done in this house so far, and it strikes Minho how unusual it feels.

“As if,” he mumbles. Then he takes a deep breath and points at the paper.

“LD stands for Lord Dunmore, he is one of the few governors who didn’t immediately run as soon as my uncle showed his true colours. I think he might actually like him, which should tell you everything you need to know. It doesn’t surprise me that he would be the one hired to off Nicholas Trott, or NT. Now, …”

Jisung points lower, gives them a look.

“Trott, on the other hand, he’s the governor of San Salvador. Tall, skinny man. A son and a daughter and a penchant for gardening and whores. Has been turning a blind eye to the drug business being run from his harbour because they cut him in. He’s a piece of shit, but he would probably help us. I know where he lives.”

Yeji huffs out a laugh.

“Guess I underestimated you.”

Jisung just shrugs, throws the captain an uncertain look, his eyes barely brushing Minho where he’s still glued to her side. He doesn’t look as triumphant as he should.

In the distance, the town’s clocktower strikes, and the captain throws a glance out the window, at the slowly setting sun. She takes a step away from Minho. Minho’s hand falls uselessly by his side, and he misses her touch already.

She smiles at her two friends.

“We need to get back, tell the crew about what we found, and probably celebrate,” she says, “You’re welcome to join us, if you want, since … we couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ryujin smiles at her, but shakes her head.

“We don’t really go into town after dark, especially not the bars, but thank you.”

Yeji grins.

“When you get him? Make it painful.”

When the captain says goodbye at the door, Yeji hugs her for a long time.

“Make sure to come visit us again soon, okay? No more coming to Nassau without making the trip out here,” she tells the captain, cups her face, before Ryujin takes her place. She looks troubled.

“Be careful out there, Y/Nie,” she mumbles, “good luck. You’ll need it.”

She pulls the captain into a hug, staring at Minho across her shoulder. She whispers something Minho can’t hear in the captain’s ear before she pulls back.

They make their way through the overgrown garden, out the rickety gate, back onto the dirt road into town. Minho claims his rightful place next to the captain, talks to her about the maps, the code, how they should approach this. Jisung trails behind them, quietly.

The sun is setting, the last rays of sunlight slipping through the palm trees as you make your way down the Main Street after dropping the satchel with the maps and the codes off in your triple locked quarters.

You hear your crew before you can even possibly see them. Their discordant but gleeful singing ringing through the open windows of a small, dark tavern. Light is pouring out of the windows, the door wide open to create some airflow in the sticky hot night.

Jisung behind you is still quiet, avoids your eyes when you turn to him. It’s a weird quiet, one that you don’t like, not from him. Jisung, who usually wears either a petulant little pout or a bright little smile or that steadfast determination that makes him square his shoulders, grow a size taller in stature, an almost dangerous glint in his eyes … No, this Jisung is none of that. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, his eyes sad, feet shuffling across the sandy street in his pretty leather boots that are slowly scuffing into something much less refined and much more recognisable and fitting for ship life. But he avoids your eyes when you try to catch them, so you leave him be. There will be time later.

Minho walks into the tavern first, and you hear everyone greet him with a cheer – but it’s nothing compared to the sound when you appear behind him. The whole room erupts into excited yells, Hyunjin squeals and bounds over to you, taking Jisung hostage from behind you and dragging him over to a table where Seungmin and Jeongin seem to be in the middle of an intense card game. Chan hollers for rum to be poured for the three of you, and you can’t help but laugh when Felix comes up to you, gently pulls you into their midst, pushing a glass of rum into your hand.

You don't go on land with them often, especially not at night and especially not to go drinking. Not because you didn’t trust your crew, per se, but you didn’t trust … men. Crowds of rowdy, drunk men. And while you were pretty sure you had around 30 men who would jump to your defence at a moment’s notice, you knew it would only cause a scene, ruin their night, maybe even get them kicked out of a tavern. It wasn’t worth it. Plus, with the possibility of enemy crews or government spies around, it was borderline impossible for you to relax enough to even consider having more than a few drinks, anyway.

But here, now, in this tavern with what you realise is pretty much only your flushed, happy, singing crew, except for a few scattered, lonely locals, with Han Yujun’s death sentence stowed away in your office? You feel as invincible as you’re ever going to feel.

Felix guides you to the table in the middle before he sits down, looks at you expectantly. A hush falls over the room.

“So?” he asks, his voice tinged with a beautiful shimmer of hope.

You turn around, find Minho still standing by the door, a drink in his hand, his eyes on you already. He smiles softly. A part of you wishes he could be right next to you. It feels as much like his victory as it does yours. You swallow down the urge to beckon him over.

Over Felix’s shoulder you make eye contact with Jisung. He smiles at you, small but oh so sweet, and then you look back at Felix, who is nervously shifting in his seat. You try to play it cool, you really do, but the giddiness that rises in your chest, the elation that you didn’t show earlier, the sheer tidal wave of hope that Yeji’s scribbled words let loose in your heart – a smile spreads over your face before you can stop it.

You watch Felix process it for a second before his whole face lights up, and he half gets out of his chair.

“Do we have him?”

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You nod.

“High fucking treason.”

The roar that goes through the room is deafening. Cheers, laughs, screams of delight filling the tavern. You think there are tears in Felix’ eyes when he gets up, rounds the table, and pulls you into a hug. And before you know it, you’re surrounded, warm bodies crowding around you until you’re caught in between what you think is your entire crew, still cheering and laughing and congratulating you, praising you for finally bringing him down. You try to answer, try to thank them, tell them it’s not done yet, but there is no room for argument, only their exuberant joy. You surrender to it.

Someone hugs you this way, someone else tugs you that way, and you lose your footing, stumble over someone’s boot, and you briefly wonder if you’re about to fall when a strong hand wraps around your hips, keeps you upright, pulls you closer protectively until you’re finally stable on your feet again, chest to chest with your saviour. When you raise your head, Jisung’s face is mere inches away from yours. You can feel the little breath that drips from his plump, slightly parted lips, could reach out to touch the little mole on his cheek. You watch his eyes flicker down, down to where you’re pressed against him, then to your lips for only a whisper of a second before coming back to stare into your eyes. His eyes are big, dark, beautiful, and so gentle, understanding, and you feel so … safe.

He opens his mouth, splays his palm, runs it the barest hint higher, sending sparks through your body; he’s about to say something, when you hear Minho’s voice cut through the commotion. Jisung lets go of you like he’s been burnt, sending you almost tumbling into whoever is standing behind you. It hurts, the loss of his warmth like a physical ache, but watching him hug his hands close to his chest, pretty face folding in on itself in sadness, is so much worse. Your heart aches, fingertips aching to reach out for him, take his face into your hands, smooth his lips back into a smile.

“Okay, everyone, make some space, you can’t kill our captain before she has a chance to kill the guy.”

And with that, Minho pushes through the crowd, that immediately thins around you. Jisung stumbles away from you as fast as he can, but then Minho is behind you, brings a gentle hand to your waist, just where Jisung’s just was, and turns you around. You blink up at him, and he scowls with worry, searching your face.

“Are you okay?”

He looks concerned, slightly flushed, but nothing else. Could it really be that he didn’t see …? When you don’t answer, he grips you tighter, gives you a careful once-over. You shake your head quickly.

“I’m fine, just … overwhelmed,” you breathe out. At least that’s not a lie.

“Should’ve saved you from these animals earlier,” he grumbles, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Now let’s get you another drink. I think we deserve to celebrate tonight.”

And celebrate you do.

One glass of rum turns into two, then three. You lose Minho at some point, and then he’s back, and you think you’re probably staring, letting your eyes drag over his shoulders, his sparkling eyes and high cheekbones for longer than is acceptable. He doesn’t comment, only looks back at you, an intensity in his gaze that is usually reserved for when he presses his lips against yours in your office with the threat of Chan barging in at any moment.

But he doesn’t leave your side any more. His dark eyes on yours as you float through the tavern, friendly faces cheering you on, clapping you on the back, murmuring low words of thanks and congratulations, as if Han Yujun was already behind bars.

You say this to Seungmin when you plop down next to him, and he just smiles at you.

“They know you. You’re our captain, you don’t lose. And now that you’re so close? There’s nothing that could keep you from taking him down. There’s just no other option.”

You almost blush, give Seungmin a pained grimace that makes him laugh happily.

“Sorry, I won’t get sappy on you,” he reassures you, and you box him in the arm lightly.

“You better not. You’re meant to be the least sappy out of all of us.”

You get swept up by someone else, and Seungmin lets you go with a little wave.

At some point, the barkeep unearths bottles of a shimmering green liquid from underneath the bar, calls it Absinthe, calls it the green fairy that will make all your worries float away. And you drink that, too, along with everyone else, just a little bit – but it turns out a little bit is more than enough.

Because it’s strong. And not strong in the same way the rum is, no, strong in the sense that it makes your world go fuzzy around the edges.

You lose sight of Minho, though you’re caught by Felix again, getting pulled into the midst of your crew. The absinthe makes the room sing, your crew scattered, laughing, drinking, singing their songs to their heart’s content, surprisingly melodic, harmonious, like it’s what they’ve always done. Your soul soars somewhere above you, through the steam and the wooden rafters, brushing past the oil lamps on the walls, fills and aches when you realise how many times you’ve heard this, from the distance, sat in your office while they were celebrating below deck.

And that one night, when Minho hadn’t gone ashore. When he had found you, barefoot, tipsy, doors and windows cast open to let in the salty breeze. When he had taken you upstairs, had kissed you for the first time under the starlight, your world exploding into fragments of light with every hot, sweet press of his lips, his touches like the first ones you’ve ever felt, a purity in the way your body unfolded for him, folded him into you and never let him go since.

Minho. You can feel him next to you again, his solid shoulder right next to yours, his hand, always so strong, yet soft, resting on his own leg when it’s meant to be resting on yours. But you’re in public. You try to distract yourself, look out into the room, at your crew having the time of their life, but nothing wants to focus except fragments; Like the freckles on Felix’s cheeks when he laughs, the way Changbin’s cheeks are flushed with the glow of alcohol, Jeongin’s laugh from somewhere to your left.

And then Jisung pops into your vision, slides onto the bench on your other side, his mouth moving. Somehow, you manage to focus, and you hear him, deep voice like dripping molasses down your spine.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his brows furrowed in concern. But you smile, watch as relief rearranges his features into something beautiful.

You let out a shaky breath, one you can’t account for with any good reason. Distantly, you feel Minho’s hand finally make its way to its home on your knee, but you can’t look away from the man in front of you. His eyes are unfocused, his pouty lips slightly parted, but he’s looking at you, staring back into your eyes again, just like earlier. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, trying to push it back, but it falls right back into his face, brushes against his cheeks, his eyelashes fanning over the skin. It looks so impossibly soft.

You remember Ryujin’s words in the kitchen earlier, when you were making tea, when you watched Jisung and Minho through the window; the tension in Jisung’s shoulders, the unguarded confusion, shame, want in Minho’s eyes. You don’t have to worry. Just let it happen.

A drop of sweat runs down Jisung’s temple, and you follow it with your eyes. Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out, catching it with a gentle fingertip. Jisung trembles, a choked sigh falling from his lips as he leans forward, almost entranced. You can feel his breath fan over your face, herbal notes from the absinthe and something quintessentially Jisung and you want to lean in, want to know if his lips will be sweet like the ripe peaches that seem to have served as inspiration when they created him, whether the skin of his collarbone will taste like the burnt honey that looks like it’s dripping off him when he sweats.

Somewhere in the back of your head, reason prevails, and you stop yourself from leaning in further, but Jisung doesn’t, his face unreadable as he lets a gentle hand rest on your arm, sliding up until it wraps gently around the side of your neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles over your pulse. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat thundering just under the thin veil of your skin. The metal of his rings is cool against into your skin, and you wonder if they would leave marks, if the squeezed closer, wonder if he would squeeze hard enough for the marks to still be visible tomorrow …

Suddenly, Minho’s warm chest slides against your back, hot and grounding, and you can’t help it when your head falls back against his. The need you’ve been carrying around, the vague desire that’s been haunting you when you were alone in your bed or your bath or Minho was already asleep next to you – it makes you unable to resist the sweet, hazy drag of their hands.

When you blink your eyes open, you see Jisung staring at Minho, hazy eyes trained on his lips, and Minho behind you chokes on air.

“Jisung, …” he mumbles. It’s meant to sound like a warning, and it does, too, but somewhere laced in there, you hear his fear. You’re too far gone to figure out what he’s afraid of.

Jisung’s free hand reaches over and slides up Minho’s thigh. Gently, wanting. Something clicks into place when he looks from you to Minho, and back.

“Let me … please,” he whispers, his shimmering eyes swimming with want.

“I want you …”

< chapter VI - chapter VIII (coming: friday, april 26, 3pm CET) >