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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at Jisung, give him a tense smile.

“Shall we?”

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

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

“Sung–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I heard you scream.”

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Han Yujun frowns.

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

Jisung on your left scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission granted.”

A single beat of silence.

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

Another beat of silence.

Then the whole yard breaks out into deafening cheers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t help but smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May I introduce you to my captain?”

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

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

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

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

“Recently come back from the dead?”

Minho grimaces, but nods.

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

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

The stranger nods at the captain.

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Mr Han.”

Jisung grimaces, waves him off.

“Please, just … Jisung.”

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

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

Then, he turns to the captain.

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

He gives the captain a wink.

“Anyway, you will excuse me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s okay.”

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

“Was it bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho nods again.

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

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

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

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

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

Felix looks at him with a soft smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for coming back,” he mumbles back.

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

“Who knew you could be so soft, hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

Felix nudges his shoulder with his own.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho lets out a shaky breath, shaking his head.

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

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

He stops, gives Minho a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We didn’t …”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jisung’s lips pull into a pout.

“I told her it would be fine …”

Minho scoffs. Pain lances through him. Regret.

“I did, too. She didn’t like that.”

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

Seungmin sends him a glare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho sighs.

“It’s a long story.”

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

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

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

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

“I guess I looked pretty bad …”

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

Minho shrugs.

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

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

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

Minho hums, turns back to their audience.

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

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

Minho falters for the briefest moment.

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

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

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

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

Minho’s heart aches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Changbin sighs, Hyunjin’s face darkens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho feels himself speak before he can stop himself.

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

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

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

“But I’m your idiot, right?”

Minho can’t help but roll his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A cheer goes through the crowd.

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

Seungmin fixes Minho with fake glare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hyunjin scoffs, shakes his head at Seungmin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffs, sniffles again and looks down at you.

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

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

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

Jisung pouts at Minho, then at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

< chapter X - interlude (& epilogue coming friday, may 24 at 3pm CET) >

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When you were eleven, your mother remarried. Some rich man she had met she never told you where, and when you were twelve, your ‘new father’, as he called himself, got you a puppy. You called him Davy, like Davy Jones. When you were 14, he killed your puppy in front of your eyes as a punishment for breaking a vase you didn’t even break. You saw the maid bump into it while dusting. He made sure you knew that this death, too, was all your fault. That day was the first time the kraken appeared.

The kraken lived in your chest. It was a hideous creature, slimy and much too big for the space it occupied, so much so that every time it would try to stretch and move, you could feel it, pushing your heart to the side, pressing against your ribcage until you thought it would pop, slimy tentacles reaching up into your throat until you felt like you could no longer breathe. It was also angry. Always angry. It would thrash around, throwing itself against the confines of its bone prison so hard you wondered if one day it would crack ribs. Sometimes it would try to climb out of your throat, blocking your airways until you couldn’t breathe any more, and you could taste the bilious slime of it, nearly making you wretch.

Nonetheless, as with everything, after a while, you got used to its presence.

When you were 15, your mother died. One day, she didn’t appear at breakfast and the man you were forced to call ‘father’ didn’t even make an attempt at pretending he was looking for her. They found her that night, beaten to death in an alley. You hoped she didn’t suffer. You tried to swallow your suffering, protect it from you knew not what. The kraken became a constant companion, writhing in your chest, day and night, getting more violent, more unpredictable, more terrifying every day.

When you were 16, your ‘father’ tried to rape you in your sleep, and you stabbed him 25 times. Technically, it was the first blood you had ever drawn, though when it stained your hands, you could feel the ghosts of your father, of your mother, of Davy in its almost preternatural heat. Nevertheless, you couldn’t get yourself to feel remorse. This was the one death that you did not mind on your ledger. The kraken, too, seemed to like the blood.

Afterwards, you stood up, half-heartedly scrubbed his blood off your hands, packed a bag, leaving your father’s lucky necklace hanging on the bedpost, walked to the shore and enlisted with the first crew you found.

You got lucky with that crew, the captain of which had a daughter himself, somewhere far away. You still believe to this day that he’d seen right through you that cold November night, when you had walked up with only a bag and nothing else in the world, unheeding of the cold or the hollers of random men around you. He barely asked questions, you barely answered, but what you did answer, seemed to satisfy him. He took you on, provided you with your own cabin with a lock and key, and swore you to his protection. When you saw your reflection later that night, there was a thick streak of blood high on your forehead.

The Captain, as you all simply called him, took a liking to you, something that you didn’t find easy to trust. But you proved yourself. You were the hardest worker, the sharpest eye, his most intelligent advisor. So soon he made you his first mate, his apprentice, his protégée. He, and a select few of his crew, taught you how to read maps, how to shoot pistols, how to wield every weapon under the sun – and he taught you everything else, like what it meant to be a captain, what it meant to be responsible for a crew of men, what it meant to make good decisions, the right decisions, and when to concede.

You revered the captain, hung on his every word, believed him to be the best man to have ever lived. You followed his orders blindly, to a T, desperate to prove yourself worthy of his trust, his training. You spent three years on his ship, until you were 19. You didn’t think of the future much, but, one day, after you had led the successful capture of an enemy ship, instead of giving the order to loot and burn it, like he usually did, the Captain turned to you and told you that it was yours; that he had taught you all he knew, that he knew you had a bigger purpose in this world, a fight to lead. He also offered you any of his crew, granted they were willing to go, and his name for you to use in any port you may land.

You had taken his gift, had parted ways with him with nothing more than a low bow, the kraken’s arms tightening around your throat as unshed tears stung your eyes, and you had boarded your ship. The Captain had saluted you as his ship turned westward, and you were left on your own, on your own ship, with your own crew, who suddenly called you captain. You never saw the Captain or his crew again, though you knew they were still out there somewhere, because at every port you landed, you asked if they had seen him lately, and without fail, they always said they did. You breathed a sigh of relief when the years passed and you still got the same answer. Slowly, finally, you let yourself believe that his was a life you didn’t claim.

“Shouldn’t you be walking in the front? I don’t know where we’re going.”

Jisung does his best to try and make his voice sound light, careless, but he’s unable to hide the light tremor of insecurity in it. When he looks back, Chan doesn’t smile, only sighs and pushes past him.

As Chan leads him through the corridors, Jisung racks his brain for what he could’ve possibly done to annoy the man. He had been plenty nice the last couple of days, staying to chat with him for a bit when he brought him food to his cell, asking Jisung if he was cold when they were washing his clothes and even letting him borrow his own coat. But now, now that he was officially a part of them, accepted into their midst by their very own captain, that friendly Chan was nowhere to be found. He doesn’t dare ask, won’t ask. He’ll figure it out. His big mouth may get him in trouble, but he’s always managed to get himself out of it.

They don’t walk for long, but to Jisung it nonetheless feels impressive. The whole ship, a large but stupidly fast frigate, was impressive, seemingly even bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. The captain's cabin and office, situated right underneath the quarterdeck, lies at one end of a wooden corridor, the other end of which forks, the big, heavy door to the deck on the right, a staircase leading down on the left. Jisung has made the trip down this staircase several times now, though so far, his trips always led straight into the lowest parts of the ship, into the darkness, where his cell had been.

But now, Chan stops after the first flight of stairs, wordlessly leads Jisung into a big, warm room. Jisung, having only caught brief glimpses of it, had assumed it to be a type of storage area, but now that he’s walking through it, he realises that it’s a living area, and a pretty cozy one at that. The floor is littered with a haphazard collection of colourful rugs, cushions, blankets, in some spots pushed together to form little conversation circles or shoved into a corner to create little nests. Against one wall, there’s a collection of what Jisung assumes to be dumbbells and a variety of other, heavy things, clearly used as weights. Every available wall space is stacked high with board games and books, framing the portholes where the sun streams in unhindered. Jisung wants to stay, look around, but Chan is still walking, aiming straight for a big set of wooden, swinging doors at the far end of the room, and Jisung hurries after him. Distantly, Jisung becomes aware of the clang of spoons on plates and loud chatter and laughter behind the door, and he panics.

Chan doesn’t give him a chance to catch his breath; when they reach the door, he dramatically pushes both doors open with his hands and stops. All the around 30 men, sitting at a collection of long, wooden tables, chattering and spooning up brown stew from their metal plates, fall dead silent as soon as Chan steps aside and reveals Jisung behind him.

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and sweat starts prickling on Jisung’s neck almost instantly. He wonders what his hair looks like, if his shirt is untucked from when the captain had so offhandedly tipped him over. And the silence won’t end, the only noise in the room coming from the kitchen on the other side of the room, where someone with a shockingly deep voice is singing a sea shanty to himself. Jisung can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and quickly he lowers his head. You already look like a damn squirrel, and now you’re fucking blushing, Jisung, he hears his uncle scream in his head, and he nearly flinches. How is anyone ever supposed to take you seriously if you look like a fucking pussy. Assert your dominance. You’re a Han.

So he lifts his head bravely, though he barely dares look at the faces looking back at him, instead fixing his stare on the wall on the opposite side of the room, squaring his shoulder just slightly as he lets their eyes wash over him.

“This is Han Jisung,” Chan suddenly announces, and Jisung nearly jumps out of his skin. To his left, someone chuckles. Chan’s face is hard, unreadable, and Jisung’s heart picks up its beat again, hammering in his chest uselessly. “He’s the governor’s nephew who we abducted from his ship the other day,” he continues and someone at the far end of the room snorts and mumbles something about how well that ship had burned, then there’s more snickering. It doesn’t seem malevolent, but it’s also definitely not friendly.

“The captain has offered him to become part of our crew,” Chan says then and there’s silence, before whispering breaks out all over the room, “if you have doubts, tell them to me, so I know who to pitch over the side of the ship tonight. The captain has made her decision and if you want to know why, you can ask Jisung yourself. For now, make him feel welcome, you crazy people.”

With that, Chan nods at Jisung, and, to the latter’s horror, leaves the mess, presumably back to his post at the captain’s door. The swinging doors close behind him, leaving Jisung standing in the middle of the room, under the scrutiny of 30 pairs of eyes, with no idea what to do. Does he just sit? Where should he sit? The left table? The right? Should he squeeze in at the end somewhere? No, that will make him look weak, he can’t look weak. You’re safe here, the captain’s soft but firm voice reverberates through his head, and he wants to scoff. He may be safe, but he sure as fuck isn’t welcome. Did Chan have to introduce him as the governor’s nephew?! Well, he supposes they saw him, being dragged kicking and screaming across the plank, shoved down into the hold of the ship.

“I’ve never heard this room so quiet, what the fuck is going on?” the deep voice hollers from the kitchen and Jisung blinks at the doors expecting … well, he doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it sure isn’t a skinny, freckled blonde boy about his age to stride into the mess, wiping his hands on a checkered rag.

“Ah, you’re Jisung!” he exclaims, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he walks towards him with an outstretched hand. “So you took the captain’s offer. Welcome. You won’t regret it.”

He winks at Jisung and Jisung shakes his hand, squeezing it gratefully and trying to smile back at him, but he can tell he’s failing. Because everyone else is still fucking staring.

“My name’s Felix, I’m the cook,” he says lightly and Jisung’s eyes briefly skate over his body. “Oh yeah,” Felix chuckles, “I still have all my limbs. I’m just not a great fighter, so I asked the captain if I could just … not do that, and she agreed.”

Jisung stares at Felix, who’s kind enough not to comment on it, just smiles at him.

“I was about to come out here and eat, but let me fix you up a plate as well. Come,” he says and takes Jisung by the arm, dragging him to a free spot at the end of one of the tables and shoving him onto the bench. Jisung’s wide eyes meet the curious gazes of four men. “Sit here, this is Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin and Hyunjin. Guys, this is Jisung. Why don’t you make him feel welcome, I’ll be right back.”

And with that, Felix flurries out of the room. With Jisung finally seated, a low murmur of conversation finally resumes in the room. Jisung doesn’t remember a single one of the names Felix just rattled off.

“You gave me a really gnarly bruise on my shin,” someone suddenly says, and Jisung snaps his head over at the man he at least knows is Changbin. He grimaces helplessly.

“When we took you to the captain two days ago? And you were kicking and biting and scratching like a feral cat? You really got me in the shin. Still fucking hurts, man.”

“Oh,” Jisung says and blushes. Changbin just raises an eyebrow at him, but Jisung thinks he can see a smile in his eyes, so he takes a chance.

“People usually compare me to a squirrel,” he says lamely, with an uncertain smile, and he’s met with Changbin’s uproarious laughter. It’s so loud he flinches, but he can’t help the little satisfied smile that steals over his face. Finally, he said the right thing. The tall, pretty man next to Changbin gives him a shy smile.

“I like your coat,” he offers gently, and Jisung looks down. Is he making fun of him? He knows he stands out like a sore thumb with it, in his emerald green silk, the coat his uncle had given him for state visits. He did … like the coat, deep down. It made him feel nice. Pretty, even. But he figured it would probably just serve to alienate him further from the new world he had stumbled into. When he looks at the tall man again, he’s smiling, eyes trailing over the fabric. “It’s a very pretty colour.”

Jisung breathes out a quiet thank you, and there’s a beat of silence that weighs on Jisung like a ton of bricks. He needs more of this easy conversation, or he’ll lose his nerve.

“You can borrow it if you want, it would suit you” he says quickly, though he immediately blushes. What is he doing?! These are pirates, and he sounds like a preschooler trying to make friends by lending out his favourite crayons. “I mean, once I have something else to wear because right now, I don’t. So if I gave you this, I’d probably be pretty cold.”

Shut the fuck up, Jisung, he thinks.

But to his surprise, the beautiful man chuckles.

“I’ll help make you more clothes. I actually love sewing, and we collected a bunch of scraps over the past few months,” he says and purses his lips, giving Jisung a once-over. “We’ll make you a new jacket, one that’s more durable, for everyday wear. But we’ll have to make it with a similar cut, it makes your little waist look to die for …”

]Jisung’s breath catches in his throat stupidly at the compliment, and he thinks the man sitting right next to him heard it, if his low chuckle is anything to judge by.

“Stop flirting with the new guy, Hyune,” he teases. His brown hair is shaggy, falls into his eyes that almost disappear when he smiles, drawing up into little crescents. He looks a bit like a fox, Jisung thinks before he can stop himself. Wow, the years of being compared to animals have really done some damage to his brain.

“I’m not flirting with him!” the tall man, Hyune, exclaims, a hand dramatically falling to his chest, “I’m just trying to make sure his best assets are appropriately showcased.”

He grins before he bats his eyes at the man next to Jisung prettily, a wicked little smile on his lips. “Plus, you know I have a crush on you, Innie.”

‘Innie’ next to Jisung rolls his eyes and waves the beautiful man off before he offers Jisung his hand.

“I’m Jeongin, by the way,” he introduces himself kindly as Jisung shakes his big, calloused hand, “I’m the lookout. You’ll usually find me up in the top except at mealtimes, when I condescend to keep these idiots company. And the man trying to dress you up like you’re going on a first date is Hyunjin, he’s our first mate. Think of him as our slave, and he’s much more fun to tease.”

Hyunjin’s face draws into a pout and kicks Jeongin under the table. “I’m the one who makes sure you animals get fed and have enough soap and rum and know where your weapons are, you should respect me more,” he snips back before he smiles at Jisung. “I suddenly don’t have a crush on Jeongin any more, so the spot has become free. You into men?”

Jisung splutters, his whole face turning bright red. How could Hyunjin just say that?! And so loudly – What if everyone hears? Jisung really doesn’t need more of a target on his back than he already does just by being … well, him. His eyes flicker to the other men, but most of them aren’t even listening, or if they are, just looking at him with interest.

“I-,” Jisung stammers out before he clears his throat, “I do. And women. I kinda … like … everything.”

He expects anything, ridicule, violence – but to his astonishment, Hyunjin nods approvingly.

“You really have found the right ship, my friend,” he declares with a pleased smile.

“Of course, he has. Do I even want to ask why you think so, though?”

Felix’s voice suddenly pipes up next to Jisung as he slides a plate of food in front of him. The smell of hot meat and potatoes wafting from it makes Jisung almost shudder. He didn’t realise just how hungry he was.

“Hyunjin is already prospecting Jisung for his matchmaking projects,” the other tall, quiet man next to Hyunjin says. It’s the first time Jisung hears him speak, and he can’t help but notice how soft his voice is.

Felix chuckles next to Jisung as he hands him a spoon – and Jisung doesn’t hesitate to dig it into the stew on his plate, shovelling a hot spoonful of it into his mouth and moaning around it, much to Felix’s joy.

“Good?” he asks, and Jisung just nods at him, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“So good,” he hums, “so much better than any of the food I’ve had in months.”

Felix giggles again and sends him a bright smile. Jisung thinks he could get used to him.

“I can see the squirrel thing now,” Changbin comments from down the table, points at Jisung’s cheeks, stuffed with meat and potatoes. Jisung ducks his head, eyes widening comically, but relaxes slightly when Changbin gives him a wink and a smirk.

“Changbin and Chan are the brawn to our brain,” Jeongin continues, and Changbin sends him a joking middle finger. “They man our cannons and take turns guarding the captain’s quarters when we’re in a harbour.”

Jisung nods, looks Changbin up and down. It makes sense, him and Chan are … ridiculously buff. And strong. Jisung can attest to the last bit, the bruise on his arm is still a deep purple.

“And the quiet one is Seungmin,” Jeongin concludes, watches Seungmin with a small smile as he lifts his hand, “he’s our navigator. Gets us places, makes sure we don’t run aground on a sandbank or a rock. He’s also a cartographer, one of the best out there. He’s mapped out pretty much every inch of these waters.”

Seungmin looks at Jisung, his face an impassive mask. It makes Jisung almost uneasy.

“I’ve been staring at that fucked up map we found on your uncle’s ship for days, and my head hurts.”

Jisung blinks dumbly.

“Fucked up map?” he asks incredulously, and awkwardness descends on the table. What map? Jisung wonders. He had only had a normal map in his quarters.

Felix gives Seungmin a look.

“Let’s let Jisung settle in first, Seungmin,” he suggests calmly, and Seungmin just shrugs, though his eyes stay fixed on Jisung.

“I really don’t know what map you’re talking about,” Jisung mumbles quietly, feeling the need to defend himself. Seungmin’s eyes are still boring into him, and he pretends he’s suddenly very engaged in mashing a potato into his stew until it has entirely disintegrated.

The swinging doors behind Jisung slam open and Jisung looks up just in time to meet Minho’s eyes. They narrow slightly at him before he saunters over to their table and comes to stand behind Felix, placing his hands on Felix’s shoulders and massaging them lightly.

“My sweet, sweet Yongbok,” Minho lilts with a smile, though something seems off, “is there any food left?”

Felix nods and looks up at him, either entirely unaware of it or choosing to ignore it. Jisung thinks the latter.

“Sure, enough for you and the captain as always, I assume she hasn’t eaten yet either.”

Jisung watches a barely perceptible shadow creep over Minho’s face.

“Changbin’s done, he can bring her some. Can’t you?” Minho sneers as he turns on his heels and walks into the kitchen. Seungmin gives Changbin a look, but Changbin balks. Only when Felix nods towards the kitchen does he sigh deeply and push himself to his feet.

“What’s his deal?” Jisung asks quietly, hesitantly, when the heavy swinging doors close behind him.

“Who? Minho?” Hyunjin asks, surprised.

Jisung nods.

“I’m pretty sure he hates me,” he mumbles around a mouthful of meat.

“Why, did you kick him, too?” Jeongin asks teasingly.

Jisung chuckles, mirthlessly.

“No, he slapped me, actually,” he scoffs out, the memory of it so crystal clear in his head, the shock, the smarting pain, “and called me pretty in like, the least flattering way possible. And earlier, when I was talking to the captain, he only glared at me, like I was the one who made her mad at him or something.”

He thinks he sees Hyunjin throw Felix a glance, and Jisung wonders if he said something stupid.

“The captain was mad? At Minho?” Felix asks, gently, but Jisung can practically feel the subtext. He doesn’t try to figure out what he knows he can’t. He nods.

“We were talking when he suddenly stormed in, all crazy-looking, asking if her all these questions about why she was talking to me alone, asking her if she had gone crazy.”

Jeongin next to him sucks in a breath. Jisung tenses up. He probably went too far. He swings his spoon around in a way that hopes feels casual, dismissive.

“I probably shouldn’t have said all that, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, trying to shove the tension back into whatever Pandora’s box he just unwittingly opened, but obviously, he fails.

The crash of Minho slamming his plate down onto the table in Changbin’s abandoned spot rips Jisung out of his thoughts.

Changbin walks past behind Jisung with a plate in his hand, shooting Minho a dirty glare, one the older man returns tenfold as he all but dismembers a piece of carrot.

“Minho,” Hyunjin starts, his voice so soft it surprises Jisung, “why is Changbin bringing the captain her food?”

Minho doesn’t even look at Hyunjin as he shrugs.

“Why not?”

“Usually, you do that. Usually, you have your meals with her.”

Minho stops his assault on his food and looks at Hyunjin with a sarcastic smile.

“What, am I not welcome here?” he asks, acrid sweetness dripping off his words. But Hyunjin doesn’t budge.

“Of course, you are,” he says, rubbing Minho’s shoulder briefly, before pulling his hand back. “I was just wondering if everything is okay.”

Minho slams his fist down on the table so loud the chatter around them falls silent again as everyone watches.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to imply, Hwang, but I’d recommend you shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” he barks.

Hyunjin lifts both his hands up defensively, an unhappy grimace on his face.

“Calm down, I’m not trying to imply anything, Min, I was just asking if you’re okay.”

Minho rises, slams his spoon onto his plate with a clang.

“I’m just fucking fine. The captain is fine. Everything’s fucking fine, why don’t you mind your own fucking business, all of you,” he snarls, picks up his plate and storms out.

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh, his head hitting the tabletop with a painful-sounding thud.

“Not your finest work,” Seungmin comments from his side, but his tone is sympathetic. He pats Hyunjin’s shoulder. Jeongin gets up and rounds the table, settling into Minho’s abandoned seat, and tugs Hyunjin into his shoulder quietly. Hyunjin falls readily, his frustrated groan turning into a deep sigh when Jeongin’s arm wrap around him.

Felix next to Jisung claps his hands and gets up, smiling down at Jisung awkwardly, almost apologetically.

“How about we give you a tour and Hyunjin can get a cabin ready for you in the meantime,” Felix suggests, and Jisung recognises it for the hint it is. He nods, tries his best at a non-committal smile, and is almost glad to flee the scene of whatever crew drama he just witnessed.

Jisung gets a tour, gets to see Jeongin press a sweet kiss into Hyunjin’s hair right there in the middle of the deck that makes Jisung look around in a panic to see absolutely nobody batting an eye. If Jeongin sees it, he mercifully doesn’t comment, only smiles and waves to Jisung before he climbs up the sails so fast Jisung feels like he’s getting whiplash from just watching him. Felix drags him along, chattering about the ship and the crew as he shows him around the main deck, making a wide berth around where Minho is lying in a hammock on the forecastle, pointedly not even opening his eyes when he hears their voices.

Felix pointedly ignores him back, pulls Jisung back to the big heavy door that leads below deck, past the split path that leads to the captain’s quarters, where Hyunjin briefly disappears into the captain’s office and where Chan sends Jisung a much nicer smile now, down past the officer’s quarters (“Minho’s quarters,” Felix comments lowly, wiggling his eyebrows as if he’s telling a ghost story, but Jisung can’t muster up more than a tense smile.

He takes him back downstairs, shows him the living area again, tells him which books are worth reading, which games are worth playing (his favourite is jackstones, the set they have is a beautiful copper) and shows him his kitchen, including which things in the cooler are available to be taken as snacks and which are definitely not, because it would result in the downfall of his carefully constructed meal plan.

Then they make their way a story lower, to the gun-ports and the weapons storage, where Hyunjin magically reappears and drags them away before Jisung can even ask about a weapon of his own. His face gets hot when he realises that they don’t trust him yet. Of course.

Felix takes him one layer lower, through the storage rooms and past the cells that Jisung was already much too well acquainted with for his liking, before leading them back up to the common area and through a side door. To Jisung’s surprise, he finds himself in a tight web of hallways, a labyrinth of doors. Hyunjin ducks past him, makes a sweeping gesture with his arms.

“These are the cabins,” Hyunjin announces, grandly, proudly. He pushes the door open to one of them, revealing a decently sized room with two bunk beds, a chest of drawers and a desk. It’s rudimentary, but the pillows look soft, all the sheets made from a patchwork of fabrics that he thinks must be Hyunjin’s doing.

Wait, bunk beds. Does this mean … Jisung feels like someone dumped a bucket of icy water over his head. Would he have to room with a stranger? Get changed in front of him? Go to sleep in front of him? He tries his best to regulate his breathing, but when Felix’s hand hits his shoulder, he’s pretty sure he’s still just staring into the room dumbly. Should he say something? Don’t be a pussy, his uncle yells in his head, you just give them mixed signals.

“Jisung,” Felix says gently, and Jisung shakes out of his reverie with a start. He’s about to apologise, but Felix gives Hyunjin a look, and then he takes Jisung’s hand (not his wrist, his hand, Jisung notices with a shudder) and drags him along the corridor until he kicks open a door.

“This is my cabin,” Felix says slowly, watching as Jisung takes it all in.

This cabin looks just like the other one, except the top bunk looks … lived in. The sheets are somewhat coordinated in colour and crumpled on the bed. There are small candleholders with half burned down candles dotted all around the headboard of the bed. A thick knitted sweater hangs off the bedpost, a dried flower dangles from the porthole. The room seems to be close to the water, but it’s high enough that a single ray of sunshine falls onto the floor. Jisung feels a pang of longing, somewhere deep in a part of his heart he thought was long abandoned. It’s so … comfortable. So homey. He can’t believe he’s on a ship. He hasn’t … hasn’t felt this at home in months.

“It’s … lovely,” Jisung breathes out, distantly aware of Felix giving Hyunjin a smile before he turns back to him.

“How would you like to be my roommate?” Felix asks, and Jisung takes a second to process his question before he starts and turns to stare at Felix dumbly.

“I mean,” Felix continues, his confident demeanour crumbling, eyes suddenly shy, “I have to get up pretty early in the morning to get breakfast started, but unless you’re a super light sleeper, I don’t think I’ll wake you.”

“I sleep like a rock,” Jisung says, it comes out as barely more than a whisper.

Felix’s grin widens.

“So … is that a yes?”

Jisung takes all but two seconds to think about it before he nods, a relieved smile on his face. Felix doesn’t look like he’ll assault him. Felix seems safe.

Hyunjin claps his hands happily, tells them to settle Jisung in, to come to him if they need anything and though Jisung’s heart is hammering in his chest, he can’t help but smile when Felix helps him find some downy yellow sheets and a fluffy pillow in a stuffed cabinet down the hall.

He feels no trepidation when, later that night, he buries himself under the blankets in a soft sleep shirt Felix let him borrow. Though his worries gnaw at him, sit in the back of his head as he stares at the dark wood of the door, listens to Felix’s steady breathing above him.

“Felix?” he asks quietly, “should we … I mean, do you usually … it’s okay if you don’t … uh … do you not lock your door at night?”

He screws his eyes shut, braces himself, but Felix doesn’t laugh at him, just pops his head over the side of his bunk and looks down at Jisung with a soft smile. But there’s something in his eyes that Jisung can’t place.

“If it would make you feel safer, we can.”

Jisung thinks it would, but shakes his head nonetheless. He’s not going to make this weirder than it already is. He can deal. Probably.

“No, no, it’s okay, if you don’t usually lock it, then I guess there’s no need,” he mutters, trying to sound casual, but failing spectacularly, his voice a shaky mess.

But Felix still doesn’t laugh at him, only swings his legs over the side of his bunk and plops down. He pads to the door on his bare feet, turns the key, shoots Jisung a little smile and climbs back up to his bunk.

“You’re safe here, Jisung,” he says softly, into the darkness when he has wriggled back into his sheets. Jisung feels every word warm in his belly. “On this ship, we’re family. We look out for each other.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as Jisung’s face burns, his heart rabbits in his chest. Then, quietly, hoping that Felix hasn’t fallen asleep yet, he mumbles a weak “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Felix just yawns and blows out his candle. “Good night, Jisung.”

Jisung mutters a quiet, “good night, Felix”, and turns to his side.

Through the porthole he can see the moon, outside the door he can hear footsteps approach and then pass every now and again, doors open and close, merry laughter and yelling ringing distantly through the hallways all the way from the common room. He lets it all wash over him and tries to think through everything that has happened today, thinks he should try to process it, but he’s too tired, bone-tired in a way he has never felt before. He lets the sea rock him to sleep gently, and he sleeps, sleeps through the night for the first time in months.

The morning sun slants through the big stained-glass windows behind your desk like they only do in the spring, right after sunrise, their cold, yet rapidly warming rays playing tricks on your eyes, making shadows dance across the wood every time the ship rocks in the waves. You’re still towelling your hair dry when there’s a knock at the door to your office. You start. Chan and Changbin are not usually up this early.

“Yes?”

The door opens and Minho barges in, not even bothering to close it behind him or throw you more than a cursory glance before he starts talking.

“We should get aligned on what your plans are for the new guy, captain,” Minho states, voice as neutral as you’ve ever heard it, and your heart sinks. You lower your towel slowly.

“Align?”

You watch Minho falter painfully, blinking rapidly at the floor, before he folds his hands behind his back dutifully. You hate this posture. He feels so far away.

“O-of course, my apologies,” he clears his throat, trying to straighten his back like it’s difficult for him to do so, “it’s of course perfectly within your right to not want me involved. I apologise for overstepping. I will leave you to it.”

He turns to leave without looking at you, but you surge forwards without thinking, catching his wrist to stop him. You tug him back gently, until he’s in front of you, but he still refuses to meet your eyes, eyes locked onto the floor somewhere on his left, his face locked in a tense, unhappy scowl. You’re gentle with it when you finally place both your hands on his jaw and gently turn his head, force him to meet your stern gaze. He looks a little tired, and there’s a guardedness in his eyes that hurts you.

“Minho,” you whisper quietly, and you can feel his breath hitch, “I want you here. For this, for all of it.”

Your heart starts hammering in your chest when you realise what you said, the words resembling a little bit too closely a confession you’re not ready to make. Minho doesn’t answer, just watches you so intently you have to look away, your hands falling from his face until they’re resting on his waist.

“I’m sorry I treated you so harshly yesterday,” you mumble quietly, without looking up, talking to the dark, starched material of his vest. You wish you could nuzzle into the skin you know it hides and avoid having to say all of these words. “You have to understand how hard I have to work for the boys to respect me. And you barging in on me talking to a new recruit and calling into question not only my authority but also my abilities, I can’t … I couldn’t …”

You struggle to find the words and deflate slightly, but now it’s Minho who takes your face into his calloused but gentle hands and slightly tips it upwards until you’re forced to look at him. His presence, his closeness, washes over you like a warm, gentle breeze.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, sincerely, “I never meant to question you, I was just …”

He hesitates, his eyes slipping shut as he lets his head fall forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“You were what?” you breathe out, even though you know the answer. You know the answer, and it’s making your heart rattle against your ribcage.

“I was so fucking worried,” Minho whispers, his eyelids heavily fluttering open, “what if the guy had planned something? What if he had had a knife on him? What if he had overpowered you?”

His voice is getting progressively shakier, and you pull him closer, flush against you, instinctively. You’d rarely seen Minho this worked up, and you feel the overwhelming urge to calm him. You let your hands rub up and down his spine, and he barely perceptibly shivers.

“You know I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but I can’t take any chances,” he breathes back, leaning forward and brushing his lips gently over yours in a gesture so intimate you want to sob. “What if something happened to you? What then?”

Your eyes lock for a second, and it’s like everything you’re terrified of, every single ounce of love he holds for you is right there, staring back at you. The kraken awakens, rolling in its prison, its tentacles feeling their way around your chest until one of them finds your heart and squeezes. A deep, threatening groan rumbles from deep within its chest as it thrashes with a disgusting squelch. You try to take a deep breath to pacify the beast, but it comes out almost pained. You stare up at Minho, the pain in your chest worsening the longer you let yourself indulge in their deep, warm depths.

“B-because I-I’m your captain, right?” you whisper, barely audibly, and Minho pauses. He blinks down at you, then moves as if to step away, jerks almost from your grasp. Your arms tighten around him instantly, a choked sound ripping from your trembling lip as you pull him back, digging your fingers into his back. You know you’re clinging onto him, pathetically, tellingly, paradoxically, but … you’re terrified.

Terrified that if he steps away from you, if his warmth leaves you, the kraken will finally find enough strength to escape, to shatter your ribs one by one, to tear open your chest and leave you to bleed out on the floor as it crawls away to find a new, stronger victim.

Minho doesn’t fight the tightening of your arms. He lets you tug him closer, presses himself even closer still, brings his soft palms back to your face, his thumbs swiping over your cheeks gently. His face is a grimace of pain and love, and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly before he blinks them back open.

“Because you’re my captain,” he affirms, and you can tell he’s lying, but it’s okay because if he’s lying for you, it means he knows, he understands. The kraken cowers, softens its hold on your heart and when you lean forward and press your lips to Minho’s, and he returns it instantly, unhesitatingly, all thoughts of it slip from your mind like sand through your fingers. Because Minho understands, and Minho’s still kissing you.

You breathe a sigh of relief, Minho’s soft lips soothing over yours gently, slowly, until you press closer. He groans, sweetly, brokenly, when you run your tongue over his bottom lip and uses his grip on your face to angle your head to the side. You part your lips readily, submitting to Minho’s tongue when it dips into your mouth, tangles with yours. He isn’t demanding, but there’s something wild in the way one of his hands slips to the back of your neck, thumb digging into the side of your jaw as he tries to pull you even closer, a breathless gasp escaping into your mouth when you suck on his tongue slightly.

“Captain, I– …”

Chan’s voice brutally ruptures the moment and you and Minho flinch apart, clumsily, your bodies detangling, your hand coming up to wipe a remnant of spit from your lips. Chan’s mouth is open, and he blinks from you to Minho stupidly before he suddenly whirls around as if he had caught you in a state of undress. The tips of his ears are burning.

“I am so sorry, captain, the door was open and – I didn’t see anything, I promise. I’ll come back later.”

And with that, he takes off, his footsteps fast and heavy as he bolts downstairs.

< chapter I - chapter III (coming march 22, 3pm CET) ->

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A flash of panic washes over Jisung's features, pink rising from his neck. "No!" His big eyes look into yours. "I...I didn't." His voice grows small, and much to your dismay, his fingers stop applying as much pressure. You whine at the change, bucking your hips and trying to grind your cunt further down on his hand.

"Hannie," you purr his name. "It's okay, baby. Don't listen to him. Just keep touching me."

He's unsure, you can tell from Jisung's pouting lip. "B-but I didn't-"

"That's okay," you cut him off. You're not sure what he was going to say, but you, truthfully, don't care. Experienced or not, his fingers rub and swirl deliciously over your swollen nub. His fingertips begin to press down firmer, feeling how your clit twitches at the pressure. You moan, reaching to grip Jisung's forearm.

"See?" It's a breathless voice that you speak in. "You're doing such a good job. Touching my pussy, you're so good at it."

Jisung visibly trembles at your praise, confidence slowly building up. "I am?"

You nod, too busy moaning to talk.

"I am," he says more sure this time. "I'm making you feel good, right? You like how I touch you?" The growing confidence shows in his movements. He opts to flick his fingers back and forth, mimicking how Chan made you cum just a few minutes before. 

"Oh!" You snap your thighs shut. "So sensitive, Hannie. It's too much like that."

"Looks like someone's tapping out," Hyunjin tuts playfully. "Should we call it a night?" He watches with pleasure as you thrash your head back and forth, a cruel smile on his pretty lips. 

"I just..it's a lot okay?" You groan. "Feels good. Too good. It's so hard to keep my legs open."

Chan's thumb strokes over your throat, feeling your damp skin under his touch. "That's it?" He looks at the rest of the men and gives a small nod of his head. "Hyunjin. I.N. Keep her legs open, yeah? Gotta make sure everyone can see her pretty pussy."

You blush at Chan's words, watching as the two men he called to plop themselves beside you. Hyunjin grabs your knee and angles it towards him, a cheery smile on his face. Jeongin chooses to grip the underside of your thigh, pulling it towards him. 

"Better?" Jeongin questions with a raised eyebrow. 

You stare into his dark eyes, then look down at the massive bulge in his pants. Being this close to him, you get to see how long his eyelashes are, and how prominent his cheekbones poke from under his skin. He's unbelievably beautiful and you'll have to wait until the end to get a feel of those rough fingers on your pussy instead. 

"Better."

Though the answer wasn't directed at the man between your legs, Jisung takes that as a cue to continue. His creamy fingers find home on your clit, resuming his flicking at a slower pace. Your reaction to his touch is immediate. You feel Hyunjin's and Jeongin's grip tighten as your legs tense. Chan keeps your head upright to make you watch Jisung rub your sensitive flesh. 

It's much more arousing this way, being able to hear your wet cunt on his fingers. Getting to see how your wetness spreads all over your thighs, down the curve of your ass, onto his wrist. You swear you see some droplets slap onto his face. A quiver goes through you when you see Jisung's tongue reach out to collect your juice.

"Shit," you arch your back. "So good Hannie. Gonna make me cum so much."

"Yeah?" There's a twinge of desperate hope in his voice. "Hannie's gonna make you cum?"

Your jaw unhinges, a moan caught in your throat as you feel helplessly driven to pleasure. Being restrained forces you to take Hannie's overwhelming, quick pace. You're almost scared of the intense orgasm building, clawing its way from your stomach to the tenderness of your pussy.

Clear fluid shoots from your cunt with a series of embarrassing squeals leaving your lips. 

"Wooahhh." You hear some of the men in awe. Chan keep a hold of your heavy head, making sure that you can see the mess you're making. 

"That's so much." Changbin plays with his tip at the sight of you dripping. "Fucking wish it was on my cock."

Seungmin takes a few steps closer, peering over to see how your arousal has utterly ruined the couch. He looks both impressed and irritated, but a sick smile twists onto his lips. "Slap her pussy, Ji. Make sure she really feels it."

You don't even have the chance to protest before Jisung's heavy hand connects to your puffy lips. You cry out, straining against Hyunjin's and Jeongin's strong hold. You barely manage to catch your breath when the second smack comes down, perfectly getting your quivering bundle of nerves. 

"Han!" You plead.

Opposite to the unsure person he was before, Jisung grins in absolute maliciousness. He looks around the room for Seungmin before he asks, "Is that enough?"

"I think one more should do it."

The third slap makes you cum much to your and everyone's surprise. Your entire body nearly lifts off the couch, hips caving and thrusting wildly at the sudden orgasm. The two men beside you try to get your ass back on the cushions, but the slightest touch makes you feel on fire.

"That was too much Han," Chan shakes his head.

Jisung puts his hands up in defense, one of them glistening with your wetness. "It's not my fault! Seungmin said to!" To this, Chan only sighs. 

By the time your hips finally get back onto the sofa, Felix is kneeling on the floor in front of you. He looks so pretty like this, you think. Eyes shining, pink lips pulled back into a smile to show his white teeth. You're still twitching, but all that painful pleasure has turned into a warm feeling. With three guys keeping their hands on you and another soon-to-be, you feel yourself slip further and further away into a cozy place. 

"Han was so mean to your sweet pussy, wasn't he?" Felix's baritone voice sends shivers down your spine. "Want me to make it feel better?" He places a ginger kiss on your thigh. The simple touch makes you moan, your chest purring with want. 

"Better?" You speak in a soft tone. 

Felix nods. "Mhm, better. Kisses always make me feel better." His lips travel down your thigh, going lower and ghosting over your pussy to kiss your other legs. Logically, your clit should be too sensitive to handle another touch, let alone a hot tongue. Yet, the place you've found yourself in lets you feel nothing but pleasure. You hardly flinch when his mouth finally latches to your core. 

Even with Chan's help, you don't have the strength to keep your head up. Not when you're too busy focusing on how wonderful Felix works his mouth. He licks, sucks, and kisses on your flesh. His tongue traces the curve of your lips, dipping down to sink into your core before pulling back out. He flattens his tongue against your clit, feeling it throb in his mouth. 

"That's not fair," someone, you think is Changbin, pouts. "I didn't get to use my dick, but he can use his mouth?"

"That's 'cuz you lied," Minho reminds him. "That's your fault."

The answer hardly satisfies Changbin. "Whatever. Felix always cheats in these games!"

You feel Felix buzz with laughter, giggling into your cunt. "Maybe," he responds. Or you think he responds. It's hard to tell when he's muffled between your legs and when the pounding of your blood drums in your ears.

Your head lolls to the side, peeking open to see Jeongin shifting in his seat. His erection must be painful yet he's restraining you, and himself, in the process so well. Drowsily, you snake your hand to the crotch of his pants. Your fingers ungracefully fiddling with the top button when he moves his gaze from your cunt to your face. 

His eyes ask a million questions and you answer them all with three words, "I want it."

It's all the conniving he needs to let you unbutton his pants, lifting his hips to shimmy them off along with his boxers. Similar to Jeongin's face, his cock is just as pretty. Slightly curved upwards towards his stomach, veins throbbing with so much blood it turns the crown of his head a bright pink. 

Jeongin lets out a depraved moan when your soft hand finally wraps around the base. He's hot in your hand, grip loose as you experimentally drag your hand upwards. You follow the shape of his cock, squeezing his tip when you reach it. 

"Shit," he swears under his breath. Jeongin's grasp on your thigh tightens as you jerk him off. "You're good at that."

You find yourself giggling at his comment, but your laughter turns into moans when Felix sucks harshly at your clit. Your attention is quickly moved to the blonde man between your legs, his eyes on yours already. He turns his head to the side and sticks out his tongue, flicking on your nub back and forth before latching his mouth on it once more.

The sight of Felix eating you out distracts you from stroking Jeongin, but his free hand wraps around yours to keep the pace. 

Another hand finds your free one, and it's Hyunjin who places your palm on his erection. "Not fair," he frowns. "What about me?" You give him a cheeky smile, looking at his pouting lips. 

"Take 'em off them," you direct, and Hyunjin is quick to comply. It's not long before you're stroking Jeongin and Hyunjin lazily, switching between kissing them both. Jeongin gently sucks on your tongue, pulling it out of your mouth to put it into his own. You let him take control of the kiss, uncaring for how messy and slick your mouth gets with salvia. 

You're enjoying the warmth of the three men using you when the one buried in your cunt suddenly pulls away. You tear your lips away from Hyunjin to cry out. The protest dies in your throat when it's Seungmin who has Felix by the hair, eyes mixed with anger and lust as he snarls at him. 

"Hurry up. Either make her cum or tell her it's not you. I've been waiting for hours." His dark eyes regard the other two men sitting beside you, cocks out and dripping. Seungmin looks at the youngest and points an accusatory finger at him, "You're not getting a turn."

Jeongin seems hardly bothered, too busy humping his cock into your hand. You purse your lips and start to disagree, but Seungmin shoves Felix back into your cunt before you get the chance to. His hands never leave the back of the blonde's head as he drags his face up and down your pussy. The ridge of Felix's nose and chin grind over your clit, making you squeal and immediately follow his forced movements.

If he minds, he doesn't show it. Felix moans and grunts as Seungmin pushes his head deeper in, a satisfied smile on his face. "Can't just kiss this pussy like you have been, Lix. Gotta make sure you get in there so she can really feel it." Seungmin laughs when Felix struggles to make a noise of agreement. 

As seemingly cruel as Seungmin is with his frat brothers, he seems to know how to make you finish quickly. You gush on Felix's tongue when Seungmin directs him to stick his tongue out, pushing his head back and forth as though Felix were a dildo. 

You can feel Jeongin using your hand to fuck himself at the same speed Felix is tongue-fucking you. The sound of his moans swirls in your head as he finishes in your fist, hips stuttering and stilling as white spurts land on his stomach.

Felix licks you through your orgasm, given a little more freedom as Seungmin lets his grip ease. His tongue rolls over your clit delicately, watching your body shiver at the sensitivity before finally pulling away. 

"Good pussy, huh?" Seungmin takes a step back to give room for Felix to stand up. The freckled man nods as raises to his feet, licking his lips, "Mhm."

Seungmin flicks his hand to dismiss the men beside you, but Hyunjin ignores him. He hasn't came yet, his tip an aggravated red that peeks from the top of your fist. "Almost done," he gasps out. "Just a little more."

"Nope," Seungmin looks to Chan for help. "Get him out of here. It's my turn." The oldest gives a smack to the back of Hyunjin's head, "You heard the man. Move." 

Hyunjin whines, thrashing in his seat, "But I'm sooo close!"

You put your hand covered with Jeongin's cum on Hyunjin's face, turning him to you. He doesn't mind the sticky substance as he meets your eyes, silently pleading with you. "You heard them, Jin," you gently tell him. "Not your turn anymore."

"But...but..." his wet lips trail off as you shake your head. "You already got your turn," you remind him. "That's not fair, is it?"

Hyunjin looks to his friends for help, but all of them hardly have an ounce of sympathy. He sighs in defeat, nodding before reluctantly unwraps your hand from his aching cock. He stands and mopes to the empty spot beside Changbin who pats him on the back.

"Shit fucking sucks, doesn't it?"

Seungmin ignores how Changbin consoles Hyunjin as he places himself between your legs. He tucks his mullet behind his ear, making sure he has a clear view of your trembling body.

"Can you stand?"

His question throws you off, looking at him in disbelief. You hardly know how you're able to talk coherently. You shake your head, "I doubt it." Seungmin nods, but the look on his face is far from understanding. You see a plan form behind his eyes as he calls for his frat brothers for help.

"Chan, help her up," Seungmin turns to the rest of the men behind him. "Changbin, Minho, come here."

The three seem puzzled as they follow his instructions. Chan walks around the couch and takes your hand in his, slowly helping you up. You wobble and shake as you're brought to your feet, but the strain on your legs is manageable when Changbin and Minho are placed beside you, hooking your arms over their shoulder as they hold you by the waist.

"See," Seungmin sounds pleased. "Not so bad."

But you're not too pleased yourself. You can feel all your cum running down your legs, tickling your inner thighs. "I was much more comfortable on the couch," you say honestly. Seungmin rolls his eyes, his nimble fingers finding the top of your pussy to play with. 

"I just thought this position would seem more familiar to you."

At first, you're confused. Eyebrows pulled together as his fingers trail lower to circle your entrance. Slowly, piece by piece, the puzzles fit into place. You study his hair, how the back of his mullet goes reaches the top of his neck. You pay close attention to the slender fingers that easily rub on your clit, prodding and flicking your pussy. 

Oh. Oh.

"Ahh," he says, lips pulled back into a full smile. "Someone's finally figured it out."

Seungmin chuckles at the way you cling onto him, hands wrapping around his neck. You tug in his long hair, trying to pull him impossibly close to you. 

"A-all this time," you hiccup. "Why didn't you say anything?"

His eyes widen, "Why didn't I- I did! Did you not hear me calling out Hyunjin's bullshit when you first came here? When Bin tried getting his little cock in you?"

"Yah!" Changbin shouts behind you. "It's not little!"

Seungmin pays no mind to his defense. "So don't say I didn't say anything when I did." He tuts and shakes his head. "You know what? Chan, Changbin, picks up her legs. Minho, go behind her and just keep her steady."

"Wha-" You barely manage to question what's happening when you're hoisted into the air, sitting on an invisible chair with your thighs spread. Minho keeps his chest flushed against your back, keeping you upright while Chan and Changbin hold you up by each leg. 

Seungmin makes haste to undo his belt, yanking off the leather material before reaching to pull out his cock.

"I was gonna go easy on you, ya know?" He lets his cock spring free. "Your pussy has had so many fingers in it. Probably sensitive and tired. I was just gonna give you a quick orgasm and call it a night. Maybe call you another time for a fuck." Seungmin grabs the base of his cock to angle at your pussy. He slides his tip from the top of your clit to the entrance of your pussy before dragging it back up again. 

"But I don't think I should let such an opportunity go to waste. Especially when you're blaming me."

Seungmin taps his head on your clit, making you writhe in the other men's hold. They adjust you in unison to keep you at the perfect height for Seungmin's cock. You watch as his tip trails over and over on your slit, collecting and spreading your old cum. 

"Plus, I think you've been waiting for a cock in you for a while now."

To this, you nod rapidly. As abused as your cunt is and as sticky as you are, you know you need to end the night cumming on a cock. Specifically, the cock of the person from that night. Seungmin pulls back to place the crown in your hole, pushing through the sopping walls.

The curve of his head makes your eyes roll, hands digging into his familiar hair at the pleasure. Seungmin pulls an inch out before going a few more inches in, then repeats the process. You can feel how your pussy molds into his shape, how your walls cave to his girth. If you thought his fingers felt perfect, his cock is heavenly.

His pelvis touches you, a sign that he's fully sated inside you. You pulse and quiver around him, arousal accumulating between your thighs. Seungmin groans at your tightness, finding a pace to rock his hips to. 

"Tight pussy," he grunts. "Still got a good pussy even after six men got to use it."

You moan at his crude words, "But you like my slutty pussy, don't you?" Seungmin raises an eyebrow but keeps an amused smile. "Duh. Opened up nice and good for me at the party. It's only fair you did with my friends too."

Seungmin puts his hands on your hips, making your elevated body thrust back onto his cock. For a moment, you're scared the movement would have made the other men lose their grip on you, but their hands are strong as they hold you. They talk and moan at the sight of you getting fucked, both in jealousy and awe. 

"I was supposed to put my cock in her first, you know?"

"Fuck off, Bin. You weren't even supposed to whip it out."

"You didn't make her cum either. It's a bad night for you, huh?"

The three oldest frat brothers amuse themselves while you drown in pleasure. Your gaze switches from Seungmin's cock in you to his piercing eyes. There's sweat forming on his brow, threatening to drip onto you. The sounds of your bodies connecting wetly vibrate in the air, but it only encourages the other four men to come closer.

Hyunjin seems to have finally finished, his cum stained on his hands with flushed cheeks. Felix finally managed to find his cock in his pants, stroking it at the speed Seungmin fucks you. Han desperately begs Minho to switch, claiming he can hold you up too. Jeongin doesn't bother to touch himself, being that he already came, but he does reach in between your's and Seungmin's body to play with your clit. 

The pressure makes you tighten around Seungmin's length, earning a moan from him. He stills his hips and throws his head back, lips curling into an endearing snarl. "Do that again, I'll cum in your cunt."

You hope he does, you don't know how much longer you'll last. With everyone's eyes on you and extra pair of hands on your clit, the feeling of your final orgasm builds. It feels hot all over, yet you break out in goosebumps. Seungmin can feel the difference deep inside you, how your pussy grips onto him. 

He thrusts deeper into you, making his tip kiss your womb. It feels unbearable, but you take the overwhelming pleasure as much as you can.

"Fuck," you squeal out. "I'm! It's...Sung, I'm so close." Both Jeongin and Seungmin groan in approval. Seungmin fucks into you so hard Chan's grip falters. Hyunjin quickly helps steady you, adding extra security. Jeongin uses three fingers to quickly rub on your clit, and that's what brings you to the edge. 

You burst with pleasure, leaking with cum on Seungmin's cock with loud moans. All the men coo and praise your orgasm, coaxing all the cum out of you. Jeongin slows his rubbing so Seungmin can focus on his own release.

It takes the sight of your fucked out expression and creamy pussy to make Seungmin finish inside you. He stills his hips and unloads his warmth inside your warmer walls. He pulses in your cunt, groaning as his final strings of cum make their way deep inside you.

With a few more pumps to ride out his orgasm, Seungmin finally pulls out of you. Felix and Jeongin watch as cum oozes out of your hole, dripping onto the floor and down your ass.

"I wanna see!" Han leaves Minho to run to the front, seeing the pearly essence drip from you. 

"Jeez," Felix uses a small finger to mix the arousal. "Didn't think you could cum this much." He sticks his cum-ringed finger in your gaping pussy, where it belongs. 

Seungmin takes a moment to catch his breath, flicking his hair from his face. "I've been waiting for-fucking-ever. You took your sweet ass time." Felix shrugs with an adoring smile, "She's got a sweet ass pussy, what can I say?"

Chan and Changbin carefully set you down, helping you to the couch where you lay flat on your back. You drape an arm over your forehead and look up to the ceiling. All of your nerves are on fire, high with dopamine from your consecutive orgasms. 

Someone wipes you clean, another brings you water and a blanket. You distantly hear Chan say you can spend the night, but you're already closing your eyes before he offers. All eight men find their place in the living room, putting a movie on to fill the silence. The tenderness of everything makes you laugh. Acting as if they weren't all wanting to fuck you minutes before. 

Seungmin snuggles beside you, satisfied to see your expression content and relaxed. 

You may have come intending to find your one mystery man, but it seems like you'll be leaving with seven more than you bargained for. 

➛ Bang Chan

- sweet baby channie is 100% good boy, and he will do anything in the world to please you;

- wants to be your own fuckdoll and pleads to be used just for your pleasure. edging? yes ma'am. overstimulation? another big yes! he would satisfy every little kink of yours just to see you getting off because of him;

- service top !!! he has a great stamina and would go on for hours, fighting against every impending orgasm to make you enjoy sex as long as he can;

- he worships you. like a lot. he would call you his goddess, his princess, his angel, his light. he is a sucker for prasing you and your body;

- ... and he is also a sucker for being praised. call him your good pup or good boy to see his pretty face all flushed and his thrusts become erratic;

- he is into orgasm denial for sure, because it means he can please you more and see your face fall apart under him;

- soft grunts while he gently pounds into you;

- he probably has a daddy/mommy kink, but he likes to be called daddy just because he enjoys being slightly degraded by you. "Daddy wants to make mommy cum? But mommy is not done using daddy yet".

- "please please please please PLEASE". and "am I doing good enough?"

- if you spank his butt he will lose his mind and whine a lot, but he has the cutest voice when fucked up, so... why not?

- prefers staying on top of you because he doesn't want you to move one single finger and enjoys feeling like a big sized dildo for you;

- "Oh God, baby, b-baby. Can you let me cum? Are you letting me cum inside of your pussy? I don't... I don't d-deserve it".

➛ Lee Know

- minho is a fucking TEASE. 101% brat material;

- will answer back every single time and won't take a punishment without grunting and cursing;

- he will start arguments just because he is bored and you can swear to god he is the most annoying and restless thing on earth. it's not clear if he does it just for fun or if he enjoys the after treatment, but be ready to stuff his mouth full with something - a shirt, a sheet, his own underwear - because he won't shut the fuck up for one second;

-he becomes pliant just after you spanked him so much that he cums untouched on the mattress, face all flushed and drool over his chin;

- he secretly has a praise kink but he will never admit it. you just know because the only way to stop his trantrum is to remember him that you want him to be your pretty toy, your good boy to play with;

- drooly. leaky. just wet all the time;

- oral fixation. he will suck anything you present in front of his pretty mouth. your tongue, your tits, your pussy, your fingers, your strap;

- enjoys pain as long as paired with you sweet tone while you twist his nipples in between your fingers or gently scratch his balls with your pretty nails;

- after you tame him, he becomes almost non verbal and he falls quickly into his subspace. He enjoys being called pretty things while you ride him and milk him dry;

- "Uh, ah mmh, nffgh- uhh", that's all you are gonna hear from him;

- wants to be played with after he cums and loves to hear you calling him your little pretty boy after he drove you crazy the entire time.

➛ Changbin

- sub enthusiast agenda at its finest !! binnie is just so happy to be there for you that he could jump from excitement;

- the most obedient boy ever. not whiney, not sobbing, just pure and honest happiness everytime you are intimate;

- def into cross-dressing as in pink fluffy sweaters, cute aprons and lacey panties. he doesn't steal from you though! he politely asks if he can borrow some of your clothes, sending cute texts while you are at work. you spoil him by buying several matching sets for every occasion and he just beams;

- i can see binnie being into soft pet play. all of him is soft either and, of course, you are never harsh with him. he likes being addressed as a cute little puppy, being petted and fed from your hands while he gently humps your leg until he cums with a loving moan;

- similarly to chan, he loves being good for you, but binnie never gets desperate about it because he knows that he is the best boy. he enjoys the praise because he loves feeling pampered, but he doesn't crave it as much as chan since he is very confident about it;

- he smiles a lot. you give him a slow handjob? he smiles. you suck him sloppily? he smiles. you fuck him or you let him fuck you? he always smiles. he is the actual embodiment of the sun itself. he enjoys being your sub more than anything in the world;

- not embarassed to ask you anything. he will talk to you about every little kink and scene he wants to try and he is super vocal about it!!;

- very very loud. he has the loveliest grunts in the world and, since he's not shy, he will let you know exactly how he is feeling. "Ah, baby- feels so good. So good, so warm. Please let me cum, I've been so good to you. You're too tight, it's unreal".

- he loves to be pegged. honestly, he will ask you after a couple of months just to be sure you know each other for a sufficient amount of time. once you reassure him that you would love to try with him, he will kiss you all over to thank you. his moans while you pound gently into him and look at his pink rim engulfing your strap are enough to convince you that you should be doing this more often;

- he will sext and send nudes a lot, so... be prepared to see his chubby rosey cock appearing a lot on your phone screen;

- "Baby, I love you, I love you, I love you I - ungghh - love y-you";

- he cums a lot and he has a decent stamina. but he will make sure that you are fully satisfied before asking you if he can keep thrusting even if he already came;

➛ Hyunjin

- pillow princess. do we have to add something else? i don't think so;

- he is your baby, and wants to be treated like one. his submissive side is not just sexually oriented, it's more like his way of seeing your relationship dynamics;

- wants you to feed him and dress him and tell him he is the prettiest boy you've ever seen. it's the truth, and you will learn that you love pampering him till the end of your days;

- whiny? bratty? sobbing? screaming? requesting? yes. all of it. hyune is not an easy sub and taking care of him requests a lot of time and effort, but seeing him under you, all open and stretched and flushed is the best reward you could wish for;

- despite all of this, he is very romantic. he will make sure to kiss you a lot and tell you that he loves you so much several times a day;

- he is very open to the idea of free use, even if he is not properly active. as long as he feels nice and you are milking him good, he is more than okay to be used as you please, even during his sleep;

- the filthiest mouth. he knows that you won't deny him anything in the entire world and that you love hearing his voice, and he uses it to his own advantage;

- "Wanna be sucked, baby, wanna feel your lips around me. Let me feel good, let me cum in your mouth. And then fuck me and let me cum in your pussy too. You know I deserve it, right?";

- mirror sex is probably his biggest turn-on. he will convince you to fill your shared bedroom with mirrors until every wall has a reflective surface on it. he will look at his own fucked up face while you have your way with him and he cums hard every single time;

- likes to be pretty, of course. he will send you tons of artsy nudes while he wraps a hand around his leaky cock and spurts hot cum all over the red corset he put on for you;

- "can you fuck me to sleep? wanna be held by you".

taglist: @jisunglyricist @hannahhhhs-things @hyuniehwa @changisworld @hyunjinhoexxx @yoobears @rockstrhanji @yongboks-stuff @taliavaleska @hw4-l1z @4-chan-inpadella @k-cock @biglipsfattits @vanillacupcakefrosting @simpity-wimpity

if you see your name in bold, it means that I couldn't tag you!

Your eyes are heavy with how long you’ve had them closed while you were entirely lost in Jisung. But curiosity gets the better of you, and you crack one eye open just enough to see him. He’s a vision, messy strands of hair falling into his forehead, his cheeks flushed and pretty lips swollen. His eyes are shut, eyebrows slightly raised, looking almost helpless in the face of your lips on his, as he breathes heavily against your mouth.

And you know he’s hard, you can feel him underneath you, throbbing in his jeans, but he’s not grinding against you. He’s not moving at all, as a matter of fact – and you know it’s because the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. Which he told you the first time you had found yourself in this situation a while back. God, you like him so so so much.

But you’re not uncomfortable, haven’t been for a long time now. No, now every time you find yourself here, you find yourself aching for more. More of his sweet taste, more of his hot honey skin on yours. All your need shivers down your spine and right in between your legs, arousal pooling. You need more, you need him, and you need him closer.

You thread one of your hands into the back of his hair and tug slightly as you pull him in more firmly against your lips, and the sound he makes is somewhere between a yelp and a moan – it’s so pretty it sends tingles down your spine. He responds so readily, it makes your fingertips tingle, tilting his head when the press of your lips becomes more insistent, letting you deepen the kiss.

You can feel him struggle to keep his composure beneath you, his cock twitching when you rub your tongue against his and there’s a lewd squelch. His breathing is even heavier now, little puffs of air hitting your skin where’s breathing out of his nose, his hands are twitching on your hips.

When you pull back just slightly and brush your lips against his, he whines out, quietly, brokenly, his pretty eyes fluttering open. He looks up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, his lips parted as he chases yours again. A part of you wants to deny him, wants to see what would happen if you did, but … you can’t, not when he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you.

So you lean back in, kissing him harder, pressing him into the back of the sofa, and he just lets you tilt his head back until all he can do is take what you give him. And you give him all you have, all the aching need inside of you pouring out of you as you drag your fingernails over his scalp and rub your tongue against his, a shaky sigh tumbling from your own lips.

One of his hands that have been so faithfully, so composedly resting on your hips finally slips down to your thigh, squeezing the meat of it hungrily, and you can’t help but lean in closer with another, louder sigh. And it’s like he’s been waiting for it, his other hand immediately slipping from your waist to your lower back to pull you closer. It feels almost … possessive. The realisation has your toes curling in your socks, your hips canting ever so slightly, rubbing your core over where he is rock hard in his pants, and it makes pleasure explode through your body.

And if Jisung’s tightening hands and stuttering moans are anything to go by, it feels just as good for him. So you do it again, more insistently, and this time his moan is instant, and much louder. It’s addicting. The third time you do it and stop again, he whimpers, whining something against your lips that you can’t make out. You pull back slightly, and he immediately stares up at you, pupils blown so wide his eyes are almost black. Your fingers are still carding through his hair, and it makes his eyelids flutter prettily.

“Baby, …” he breathes out, and you can hear it all; The reticence, the fear of going too far, but also a burning, almost feverish desire that you recognise because you feel it, too.

“Shhh,” you breathe against his skin, your lips softly kissing the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, and down his pretty, thick neck, his hair tickling your face as you lap at his skin, “I want it, too.”

Your words make his hips jump underneath you, grinding up into you so perfectly, you breathe a moan against his skin as he whimpers and slips his hand under your shirt, fingers digging into the hot skin of your back. You grind yourself back down on him, but this time you don’t stop, setting a steady rhythm that sends electric shocks of pleasure through your body.

And God, Jisung is loud. Every rut of your core over his aching cock is repaid by a breathless moan that is so distracting, makes your head go so fuzzy you have trouble focusing on the movement of your hips and your lips on his neck.

When you pull back to suggest moving things to the bedroom, the suggestion dies on your lips when you see him underneath you – his head is still thrown back against the sofa, his eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as he uses his strong hands to rut you over his dick faster, harder, his own hips bucking against you in time, rubbing against your clit so perfectly your legs start to tremble underneath you. The moans he lets out are wet, breathy, his pink tongue darting out to lick his lips and your whole body starts trembling, overwhelmed by him, him, him, when you lean in, wrapping your hands around both side of his throat and slot your lips over his again.

A deep groan tears from his throat when you lick into his mouth, one hand burying itself in your hair to pull you closer, the other wrapping tightly around your waist as he ruts against you harder, his own hips starting to stutter.

Your body feels like it’s about to go up in flames, drunk on the way he’s cradling you into his chest, the way he’s kissing you so deep and wet, letting his trembling moans tumble into the safety of your mouth. You can feel the coil in your stomach tightening, your moans growing in pitch, more and more out of breath as your hips stutter, and he ruts you against himself harder, his own moans mimicking yours before you tumble over the edge, cumming so hard you see stars, eyes screwed shut, a whine tearing out of your throat as one hand shoots out to dig into the leather of the sofa as you twitch in his arms.

His grasp on you is almost bruising as his stuttering hips try to ride out your orgasm, but within seconds he spills hot and sticky into his boxers, gasping and moaning into your mouth loudly.

He breathes heavily against your lips before he kisses you chastely, flutters his eyes open and grins up at you, sheepishly, cheeks tinged pink. He looks completely fucked out, and you’re already in love with the view.

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

taglist: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148 @caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector @stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut @warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti @hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows @ayoitschannie @starsandrqindrops @redstayrosie @vitrealisbunny

His eyes met yours in a slow deliberate stare, making sure you were still watching him. That he still had the attention of the only person in the club that he actually wanted. Even from his spot on the dance floor, he could see the darkness swirling in your eyes, and he wanted to push you even further. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, he pulled the girl he was dancing with flush to his body. Her hands roamed his broad back as they grinded together. 

You felt the fire in your veins grow hotter, he was toying with you. He must’ve gotten the reaction he wanted because he dropped his head back, a shit eating grin on his face now. You’ve had enough of his games.

It only took a couple moments for you to make your way back to the table where everyone had sat. It was like fate was on your side in your revenge, because as soon as you got back to the table, Minho slid into his seat. 

With your drink in one hand, you slipped your other arm around the man’s shoulders. Minho gave you a slightly confused look before he saw where you were looking. 

Han still danced with the girl from before, but now,  her lips seemed to be closer to his neck. It didn’t look like he noticed though, his eyes were trained on you and Minho. 

“What kind of game are you two playing now?” Minho’s hand rested on the small of your back as you leaned into him, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He wasn’t a stranger to yours and Han’s antics. He also didn’t mind being thrown into the middle of them, sometimes. “Hannie looks like he’s having fun”

“Yeah, he’s having loads.” You rolled your eyes, feeling the burn in your chest again. It was hard to convince yourself that it was due to sipping your drink. 

“Hm, so you’re jealous” Minho nodded looking up to you fully now, his hand felt heavy against your back and you tried to protest. 

“I’m not jealous-“ 

“Yeah, yeah. Like I’m going to believe that” He grunted out a laugh, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as he spoke. “You know I can read you like a damn book” 

Your cheeks were burning now, and heat crept up the back of your neck. Everything was so hot. It was damn near suffocating and when you tried to pull yourself from Minho’s arms, he just tugged you even closer. 

“Mmm, nope. You came to me, I’m not going to let you go that easily” He hummed softly as if he were thinking, and you couldn’t help but turn your gaze back to Han. You were stopped though. Minho’s fingers tugged your chin to force you to look at him once more. “Eyes on me, baby.” 

The way his voice dropped a little had your stomach fluttering. 

“If you want to make him jealous, staring at him won’t do a thing” He chided a little, as if he were saying something that was common sense. Before you could say anything, he pulled you to sit on his lap.

“Minho-“

“Shhh, let’s make Hannie see what exactly he’s missing” He whispered into your ear, leaning on to press a quick kiss to your neck. The quickness of it drew a gasp from your lips and he chuckled at the sound. You giggled in response and relaxed in his lap. 

You always wondered what was going through Minho’s thoughts when either you or Han sought him out during these “games”. Especially when you found his hands gripping your waist so tightly it forced a breathy moan out of you. He never seemed to mind getting a little close with you two, but he also never crossed over the line fully. 

Before you could really start letting your thoughts wander, you felt Minho pull away from your neck, it took everything in you to stifle the whine that wanted to come out. 

“Damn, looks like it already worked.” Minho mumbled, his eyes following something across the club. He quickly stole a kiss from you before patting the side of your ass. “My time’s up, baby. Think Hannie needs you now” 

You slid off his lap, a little more hesitant than you’d like to admit, and looked to where Han had gone. In a moment, whatever desire that had been building for Minho slipped away. Replaced with a burning ache for the brat that had tested you all night. 

It really only took you a few minutes to find Han. Because the guys had decided to go to one of the nicer clubs they liked, there was an abundance of rooms for certain things. Once again, luck seemed to be on your side. 

Han stood in the third room you’d checked, arms crossed over his chest with a pout that you thought was a tad too dramatic. 

“Why do you always have to go to Minho?”

He whined, out of context the question would’ve placed all the blame onto you. Which was not even close to the trust. 

“You have fun dancing?” You asked, mirroring the way he crossed his arms. It hadn’t been the fact he was flirting and grinding with other people, it was that he was doing it solely to get your attention. You hated that. 

You and Han had been going back and forth in a sort of relationship, sort of best friends with benefits for months. It had damn near been a year since he’d approached you, and still, nothing had changed. It was beyond tiring. There was no sense of normalcy between you two anymore, and the constant push and pull was giving you whiplash.

Your eyes dragged down Han’s face, taking in the expression that had your chest clenching once more. This time, there was a feeling within the tightness that you couldn’t quite name. There had been plenty of times where both of you had played the game of who could make the other more jealous. But this time? It felt different. 

“Why did you even invite me out if you were going to nearly fuck every god damn person in the club?” 

You weren’t really sure why you were so angry, it wasn’t like he actually fucked anyone. And the both of you weren’t dating, you had no right to be so upset. But there you were, seething as images of Han grinding with the last girl you’d seen plagued your mind. 

Han’s cheeks burned at your words, hues of pink and red dancing across his tanned skin. When you put it like that, he couldn’t really defend himself. 

“Oh, like you weren’t practically fucking Minho at the table.” 

He knew that would make things worse. He knew that it wasn’t fair to you, but you weren’t being fair to him! How could you stand there and basically yell at him when you were doing things to make him jealous too!

Anger flared in your chest, followed by hurt and ultimately disappointment. You stayed silent for a long moment, eyes dropping down to the floor as you tried to piece together the thoughts swirling around in your mind. 

“Han what are we doing?” You finally asked the question that had been begging to come out for months. 

Han froze, at first he didn’t really understand what you meant, but when you looked back to him he saw the anger had died down a bit. You looked sad. His heart broke. 

“I…” He trailed off, eyes flicking between yours while he processed your question. It’s not like he hadn’t thought of it himself. He had. More times than he would’ve liked. Over the past few months especially, there were times where he’d lay awake late at night when he was supposed to be resting for practice the next day. His mind drowning in what he could have with you. “We’re friends… right?” 

It was pathetic, and he knew that.

“Right, we’re friends.” You scoffed at his answer, expecting him to come up with a little more than that. “Friends who just sleep together, and do everything couples do… but not exclusively of course. Heaven forbid we attempt a little commitment.” 

Your words dripped with a venom that Han had never heard from you before, and his eyes widened as he listened to you. He’d been so needy for your attention earlier, but also a little stubborn to let himself actually ask for it. He couldn’t help but think if he’d gone straight to you, this would’ve never happened. 

“What are you trying to say?” Han whispered, his voice shaking a little now. Despite how badly he didn’t want to know the answer to that, he needed it. “Y/n..” 

“I think we should either call it quits on whatever this is,” You waved your hand between him and yourself, referring to the web of messy situations this ‘relationship’ had brought on between you. “Or, we actually try something real. I can’t keep… I can’t keep watching you with other people, and pretending that it doesn’t bother me. Because it does, Jisung!” 

Your voice was shaking now too, and all the emotions that had piled up in your chest from the night spilled out at once. 

“Do you know how many times I begged myself to not care that you could go out and sleep with other people?” You pushed a hand through your hair, trying to fight against the tears that were threatening to fill your eyes. Han was no better, just like any other fight you’d had with him, tears were already nearly spilling over. “I know we’re not exclusive, but… fuck it, I’ve never slept with anyone else besides you this whole time!” 

“You… wait,” Han closed the distance between the two of you now, his hands desperately gripping yours. Despite knowing how upset you were, he needed some form of contact with you. It felt as if his chest were going to burst if he didn’t “You thought I was sleeping with other people?”

“It sure looked like it sometimes.” You sighed, remembering all the nights you saw him leaving parties with other people. 

“Y/n, I only agreed to that because I thought you were sleeping with other people!” His voice picked up at the end of his words, turning in a whine that normally would’ve made you laugh. “You’re telling me that you’ve never slept with Minho?” 

“What? No, I definitely have not.” You looked at him with wide eyes now, a frown pulling your lips down. 

“What the fuck?” Han whispered, he was having a hard time processing all of this. All those times he tried to make you jealous was so your attention was on him instead of Minho, and all the times you’d gone to Minho to make Han jealous was so Han was looking at you instead of the other people. 

It only took you a moment to figure out how utterly stupid both of you were. Han opened his mouth again to speak, but you grabbed his face with both of your hands and crashed your lips to his. The kiss was sloppy, your teeth scraped against each other at first and it nearly made you cringe. 

Once Han’s hands found their normal place on your waist, and your hands threaded into his hair, he melted into you. Whining loudly when you traced your tongue along the slant of his lips, he parted them to let you in. You loved how little always made him fall apart in your arms. 

And now that you knew this whole time it had only been you to make him melt like this, it made you want to push him even further. 

You both panted heavily when you broke the kiss off, resting your forehead against his. 

“You…” You whispered breathlessly, still gripping his hair gently. He didn’t let you actually speak before he moved his lips to your neck, growing even more needier as he pictured Minho kissing you there earlier. “Stop.” 

You tugged on his hair, pulling him from your neck which forced a whine from his throat as he looked at you with flushed cheeks. 

“Whyyy?” Han whimpered, trying to lean back in to kiss you, but you stopped him once again. Slipping your other hand to cover his mouth with a soft grin 

“If you keep kissing me like that, I won't be able to hold myself back.” You mumbled, moving your hand from his mouth to cup his face. 

“Then don’t” 

You could tell how needy he was getting now, his hands on your waist had pulled you flush to him and the hardness of his erection in his pants pressed into your hip. You knew he was moments away from grinding into your hip. 

“Jisung, I’m not fucking you in this club. We’ll go back to my apartment.” 

“Fuck, okay..” He whined again when you pulled away from his body completely, but grinned when he saw how flustered you looked as well. He reached back toward you and you nudged his hands away. 

“No, keep your hands to yourself.” You said firmly, pushing him towards the door, his jacket had covered the bulge in his pants just enough to where it wasn’t noticeable unless you looked really hard. “Be good.” 

“Only if you keep telling me what to do when we get back to your apartment” Han grinned when you rolled your eyes at him, but he saw the way your eyes grew a little darker under the neon lights of the club. 

Hyunjin rolls his eyes again but doesn’t fight him, only slightly leans into Jisung next to him, giving him a smile and knocking his shoulder against his. When he spots Felix walking up to them, his face lights up, and he pats the spot on the floor next to him. Felix smiles at him and sits down, drapes his legs over Hyunjin’s lap readily.

You can feel Minho’s presence behind you, his legs crossed in front of him, and you turn slightly, studying him as he watches Hyunjin and Felix. His handsome face, looking like it was carved by the gods, calm, eyes deep and dark and observant. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks from the alcohol, and you want to kiss every inch of it, follow it down his neck to where it disappears underneath his plain black shirt. When he looks down at you, his lips tug into a tender smile, one of his hands coming to your back, lightly running his palm up and down your spine. You hum and lean into his touch, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

The rest of the members hesitantly join you on the floor, Chan plopping down next to Changbin, Seungmin sitting down next to Minho and Jeongin finding a spot between Chan and Seungmin.

Jeongin leans back against the sofa and takes a sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow at Changbin.

“Go on then, Changbin-hyung.”

Changbin beams at him tipsily and reaches forward, spinning the bottle harshly. It clacks over the linoleum until it comes to rest on Felix.

“Truth or Dare?” Changbin asks, a conspiratorial giddiness in his voice, and Felix deliberates only for a second, before he chooses.

“Truth.”

“Boring!” Changbin exclaims with a pout.

Minho scoffs next to you, taking a swig from his bottle.

“Only if you ask boring questions.”

Changbin glares at him and gestures at him grandly.

“You go ahead then, if you’re so smart.”

Minho rolls his eyes but looks over at Felix, who’s already staring at him. He lets the eye contact drag out for another few seconds, Felix looking back at him unflinchingly, before he finally asks his question.

“How many people in this room have you kissed?”

Chan chokes on his spit slightly, but nobody else seems particularly bothered. Changbin blushes, his eyes fixed on Felix.

“Five,” Felix says and takes a drink.

“Five?!” Jeongin exclaims in disbelief.

You do a quick count. Minho, Jisung, Hyunjin, you, … Who was number 5? Jisung next to you seems to come to the same conclusion about three seconds later, whipping his head over to Felix with curiosity written all over his features. Minho behind you breathes out a huh, as if he just heard the most interesting fact in the world.

“That was my turn,” Felix shrugs nonchalantly and reaches forward, spinning the bottle again. This time it lands on Changbin.

“Changbin-hyung,” Felix drawls out, his voice almost smoky, “truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says, his giddiness sounding more like nervousness now, and Felix purses his lips, a glint of humour in his eyes.

“I thought it was boring?” he quips. Changbin flushes hotter.

“Shut up, just … ask your question,” he says and Felix giggles, deliberates for a second. He grins wickedly when he comes to a conclusion.

“Changbin-hyung, when was the last time you got laid?”

Changbin’s eyes widen and briefly flicker over to you, then to Minho, before he looks back at Felix. He blinks a few times before he straightens his back, trying to look unaffected. Minho next to you slips his hand under your shirt, dragging his blunt nails over the skin of your back. You shiver and you know he’s smiling.

“A couple weeks ago,” Changbin states, his voice only wavering a little bit, and reaches out for the bottle.

Felix smirks knowingly.

“Who was it?”

Changbin avoids his eyes and shakes his head, the tips of his ears even redder.

“You only get one question.”

Changbin reaches out for the bottle, but before he can reach it, Jeongin snatches it up, plucking it straight from the middle of the circle. He wields it like a weapon when he points it at his members, a strange determination in his eyes.

“Actually, I have a question. Take a drink if you’ve ever kissed a member.”

“Hey,” Changbin yells, “don’t hijack my game.”

Jeongin glares at him.

“I think this is much more interesting, actually,” he turns back to the room. “So?”

Hyunjin shrugs first and takes a drink, followed by Felix, then Minho, Jisung and you. There’s a moment of hesitation before Chan slowly brings his bottle to his lips, and Jeongin’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“You?!” He breathes out. Chan grimaces and shrugs.

Then next to him, quietly, Seungmin takes a drink and Jeongin’s mouth falls open.

“How the fuck have I not heard about this?!” he exclaims, and Seungmin just shrugs. His face is composed, but there’s a nervous tension in his shoulders and the tips of his ears are burning. He takes another long drink for good measure, and you think he’s onto something and also take another big gulp of your drink – this is shaping up to be an evening you can’t get through sober.

Jeongin is frozen for a second, his eyebrows furrowed, as if deep in thought. But he doesn’t elaborate, only gives Seungmin and Chan another look, before he quietly places the bottle back onto the floor. Changbin looks at him warily, but Jeongin gestures for him to spin it. So Changbin does.

It lands square on Hyunjin this time, who’s leaning back on his hands, the picture of relaxation.

“Dare,” he says with a brilliant grin, without even waiting for Changbin to ask him. Changbin gnaws on his bottom lip, but then shakes his head and murmurs a quiet fuck it.

“Kiss the most attractive person in the room,” Changbin announces, and Jeongin stares at him as if he’s grown a second head. Hyunjin whines.

“How?! Everyone here is hot, I would have to kiss everyone.”

Changbin squirms where he’s sitting, looking like he suddenly regrets his decision.

“I don’t fucking know, figure something out,” he spits out nervously, and Hyunjin lets his eyes drag across the faces of his members. He looks at Minho, then you, then Jisung, and finally at Felix. The latter’s eyes widen before he leans in and whispers something in Hyunjin’s ear. Hyunjin giggles and nods enthusiastically, before swinging his legs behind him and getting onto all fours. His eyes zero in on Jeongin, and then he’s crossing the circle.

You can pinpoint the exact moment when Jeongin realises where Hyunjin is headed, his eyes widening in panic, his back straightening against the sofa behind him. When Hyunjin reaches him and places his hands on Jeongin’s thighs, peering at him through his lashes, Jeongin sucks in a breath. His eyes don’t leave Hyunjin’s, flickering down only briefly when Hyunjin’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” Hyunjin breathes out quietly, and it makes a shudder run down your spine. It feels like everyone is holding their breaths, waiting for Jeongin to answer.

Jeongin blinks at him a few times, and then he almost imperceptibly shakes his head. Hyunjin smiles at him and leans in, pressing his lips to Jeongin’s.

It’s innocent at first, Jeongin leaning into Hyunjin, chasing the gentle press of his lips against his. But then Hyunjin’s tongue slips into his mouth, and Jeongin whimpers, so quietly everyone else can barely hear it, and his hands skate up to cup Hyunjin’s face, pulling him deeper. Hyunjin’s fingers are digging into Jeongin’s thighs, one coming up to fist into his shirt. But before things can go any further, Hyunjin pulls away.

Jeongin is staring at him, pupils blown, his fingers coming up to touch his lips absentmindedly. Hyunjin’s blushing as well, but he just gives him a shy smile and turns around, crawling back to his place next to Felix, who grins and wiggles his eyebrows at him. But Hyunjin just presses his palms against his blushing cheeks, throws his hair back and leans forward, spinning the bottle, whose next victim is … Seungmin. The boy doesn’t even flinch, pointedly avoiding the flushed and trembling Jeongin next to him, just looks up at Hyunjin and says, “truth.”

Hyunjin cocks his head to the side.

“Top or bottom, Kim Seungmin? Sub or Dom?”

“Those are two questions,” Seungmin observes coldly and Hyunjin just shrugs, waving his hand around as if to say ‘technicalities’. Seungmin takes a deep breath in and sighs it out wearily.

“Fine. The answer is either,” he states calmly before he smirks slightly, “I’m versatile like that.”

Hyunjin purses his lips thoughtfully, then nods and wordlessly extends a high five to him. Seungmin stares at his hand, dumbfounded.

“Come on, Minnie,” Hyunjin whines, wiggling his hand in the air, “don’t leave me hanging. We’re a blessing to anyone who wants to fuck us, we should be proud.”

Seungmin groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes before he finally smacks his hand against Hyunjin’s, who rewards him a satisfied grin. Seungmin carefully avoids everyone’s eyes when he leans forward to spin the bottle. This time it lands on Minho.

“Dare,” Minho says, leaning back on his hands and eyeing Seungmin teasingly.

“Let’s get our heads out of the gutter,” Seungmin states, “send the last picture you took to the group chat.”

Minho just nods, pulls out his phone and unlocks it, tapping on his photo gallery. Suddenly, he laughs, high-pitched and giddy. You and Jisung immediately perk up, and you crane your head. Oh.

It’s a picture of you. And Jisung. Entirely naked, kissing in the sheets of Minho’s bed. There’s a sheen of sweat on Jisung’s chest, and your hair is sticking to your face. You can see … everything; Minho’s handprints on your ass, the scratches of your nails down Jisung’s abs. There’s a purple bite mark on Jisung’s shoulder and a matching one high on your neck. It’s the same one you had tried to cover up just hours before. All of that wouldn’t bother you, if it wasn’t for the fact that you could also see Jisung’ spent cock lying in a pool of his own cum and Minho’s release dripping out of you.

“At least crop it first,” Jisung sighs next to you, and you nod absentmindedly. God, but it’s a good picture. You have to ask Minho to send it to you.

Minho stares at the two of you with wide eyes.

“That’s your only concern?” he asks with a disbelieving smirk.

Jisung and you just nod, and Minho’s eyes darken considerably. Then he looks back at his phone, carefully duplicates the picture, crops the new one so you and Jisung are only visible from the chest up. He checks with you again but both you and Jisung smirk and nod and Minho shrugs, opening the group chat and hitting send.

The phones around the room all ding in unison.

Seungmin pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and immediately drops it with a yelp. Jeongin next to him is holding his phone away from him as if it might explode, but his eyes are glued to the screen. Changbin’s blinking at the picture dumbly and Chan next to him is so red in the face you think he might combust, before he locks his phone and puts it back into his pocket gingerly. Hyunjin and Felix are staring at the picture unashamedly, Felix even goes so far as to zoom in, looking over at Minho and stage-whispering “can you send me the uncensored version?”.

“I did not ask you to send us unsolicited nudes,” Seungmin huffs out a frustrated sigh, but Minho just shrugs.

“It’s the last picture I took, what can I say. I even censored it.”

Seungmin gives him a glare and Minho chuckles darkly.

“Also, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right, puppy?”

Seungmin immediately flushes, eyelids fluttering nervously.

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, “also I haven’t had to see Jisung naked yet, thank you very much.”

Jisung next to clutches his chest in mock betrayal.

“You should be so lucky, Kim Seungmin!”

Seungmin ignores him and turns away, and Minho just chuckles before he leans forward for the bottle. But instead of spinning it, he picks it up and flips it in the air once.

“Actually,” he drawls, eyes glued to Felix, who slowly blushes under his gaze. The smirk on Minho’s face tells you he’s up to no good, “I’d like to enforce the Jeongin rule. Collective dare. Everyone who has kissed, has to kiss again.”

Felix’ eyes widen before they narrow at him, and Minho chuckles evilly.

“Everyone?” Changbin asks, a smug look on his face. Minho whips over to Changbin and blinks twice.

“Sure,” he says carelessly, but you can feel his nails slide over the skin of your back, can see the tick of the muscles of his jaw.

But you’re a bit too distracted by the idea of having to kiss every single person in this room again to be very concerned with the hole Minho has dug himself. And watching Minho and Jisung do the same, in front of everyone … A nervous kind of arousal pools in your gut, makes your heart tremble in your chest.

Hyunjin shrugs and moves first, tipping his head onto his shoulder, placing a gentle hand on Felix’s cheek and pulling him in for a sweet, lingering, open-mouthed kiss. Felix is blushing when Hyunjin pulls back, his cheeks dusted a pretty pink, and Hyunjin wastes no time, just swivels his head and Jisung is right there, blinking at him once before he surges forwards and lets Hyunjin lick into his mouth filthily. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every swipe of Hyunjin’s tongue against Jisung’s, every drag of Jisung’s hand against Hyunjin’s thigh.

You rip your eyes away to see the rest of the boys stare at Hyunjin dumbly. Especially Jeongin, who looks like he’s seen a ghost, his pretty eyes narrowed in confusion.

All too soon, Hyunjin pulls away from Jisung, pats his flushed, chubby cheek and smiles at you. You smile back at him and get on all fours, crawling to close the small space between you as Hyunjin meets you halfway and threads his fingers into the hair at the back of your neck, pulling you into his familiar lips, the lips that would inevitably find yours almost every time he was drunk, his wandering hands sliding over your body as he relished in you in a way you had never experienced with anyone. His tongue is in your mouth, the taste of soju on your tastebuds, and you sink your teeth into his bottom lip, dragging a quiet moan from Hyunjin’s chest. When he pulls away, you make a sad little noise and Hyunjin chuckles, breathing out a soft later that makes Jisung suck in a breath next to you. You sit back down, Minho’s nails digging into the skin of your lower back, but you don’t turn around.

Because Hyunjin’s eyes are locked onto Minho’s as he crawls towards him. He doesn’t stop until his lips are hovering over Minho’s. His heartbeat is in his throat.

“This one’s … more of a promise,” he breathes out before his eyes flutter shut, and he brushes his lips against Minho’s, a featherlight touch that makes Minho’s breath catch in his throat. But then Hyunjin is gone again, and you can see Minho’s eyebrows furrow at the loss. Hyunjin returns to his spot and leans back on his hands, entirely uncaring of everyone seeing the obvious bulge in his pants. He shakes his hair out of his face with an elegant toss of his head, and you wish you could crawl over and suck him off right then and there. Jisung next to you huffs out like he wants the same. When you turn your head and your eyes lock with Jisung, Jisung instinctively licks his lips.

“If they start making out right now, they will not stop,” Minho muses and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap and away from Jisung, who makes a low noise of complaint. You can feel Minho half hard against your ass when he digs his fingertips into the meat of your waist and slowly guides you towards Seungmin, who blinks at you dumbly, hesitantly, but nevertheless grabs you by the wrists and pulls you into his lap. The room is dead silent as Seungmin looks at you, and then he tips his chin forward and kisses you, and you press yourself against him, trapping him against the sofa and making him gasp into your mouth. He’s hesitant at the audience, almost like last time, but as soon as your tongue is in his mouth, one large hand wraps around your waist, the other slithers up your back and fists into your shirt, and then he’s kissing you so deeply you think you can feel him in your soul. There’s a dominance in this kiss that makes a throb bloom between your legs. Minho breathes out a chuckle that you know masks the jealous kind of arousal getting involved with the others always elicits, and you pull back, pressing a last kiss to the corner of Seungmin’s mouth before you look at Jeongin next to him.

Jeongin’s staring, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, one of his hands protectively over his crotch where you know he’s hard, if his blown pupils are anything to judge by. Still lingering in Seungmin’s lap, you reach out a hand towards him and catch him by the sleeve. You pull at it softly, the offer to decline in your eyes, but Jeongin scoots over to you, shoots a nervous look at Seungmin before his expression turns determined. He leans in, eyes fluttering shut as he rubs his sweet, soft nose against yours and then dips lower, catching your lower lip between his teeth. A soft giggle falls past your lips and he smiles, too, as he leans closer, kissing you again and again and again, and it reminds you so much of that night weeks ago when he had you caged underneath him, all giggles and teasing and shameless moans. His gentle fingers come to your chin and tip your face sideways enough for him to slip his tongue into your mouth and somewhere behind you someone breathes out a breathless, “Jesus Christ, Jeongin,” that makes Jeongin giggle into your mouth, as he drags you from Seungmin’s lap and into his own, as if you weigh nothing at all, his strong hands finding purchase on your hips when he pulls away and gives you a cheeky grin. You want him so badly it’s burning deep within you and all you want to ask is if he wants you, too, if he wants to do it all again sometime, but then he’s already shifting you out of his lap and towards Chan, who is staring at you wide-eyed, visibly uncomfortable.

You blink away the haze of arousal and give him a gentle smile.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Chan.”

Chan doesn’t respond as you crawl to close the distance to him, so you stop in front of him. His eyes are racing across the room, over the faces of his members, then meet yours and you nod, leaning forward enough to press just one gentle kiss to his lips, pulling away again immediately. He stops you with his hand on your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, gratitude and apologies in his eyes when he gives you one kiss back and leans away from you.

Your brain feels fuzzy from being handed around and over Chan’s shoulder you make eye contact with Changbin and his lips look so plush and you still remember the taste of them from the day in the studio and you want him so badly it makes arousal tingle through your body. But you rip your eyes away from him, over to where Minho and Jisung are sitting side by side. Jisung is staring at you with wide eyes, his pupils blown wide, Minho’s face is unreadable. You blink at them for a second, sending them a questioning glance – because no matter how much you wanted Changbin, there’s no way you’re doing anything without their consent. Jisung looks at Minho, waits, an excruciating moment before Minho nods, imperceptibly. You hesitate, trying to figure out why he’s approving of this, after everything, after nearly punching Changbin a couple weeks ago – but his face remains unreadable, something dark twinkling in his eyes and he nods again. You look at Jisung, who nods as well, licking his lips as he shifts in his seat, hands pawing at the crotch of his jeans as he tries to rearrange himself, and you take a deep breath.

When your eyes meet Changbin’s, he’s staring, heady blush on his cheeks and a boyish smile on his lips. You crawl closer and he huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

“Am I dreaming?” he breathes, teasingly, incredulously, his eyes so full of genuine adoration that your heart skips the tiniest beat, a stupid giggle tumbling from your lips as he helps you into his lap gingerly, palms skating over your body reverently, almost disbelievingly. As soon as you’re settled on his thick thighs and look down at him, your heart is in your throat.

“Get on with it already,” Seungmin ribs from across the circle, his voice a fluttery thing tinged with arousal. Changbin’s eyes never leave yours.

“Fuck off, there’s no way I’m rushing this,” he mumbles and you bring your hands to rest on the side of his neck, thumbs digging into his pulse point slightly, where you can feel his heartbeat thundering underneath your fingertips.

You smile at him and Changbin smiles back, and then he pulls you closer and his plush lips are on yours and it’s miraculous, how he meets you, his enthusiasm matching yours one for one as he takes you open-mouthed. Your fingers card through his curls and he winds both of his arms around your waist and pulls you so flush against his chest that you feel like you’ll melt into him. It’s all so absurd, that you’re not in love with him but that you like kissing him so much and that he likes kissing you, that you match each other so well, and you giggle into his lips, eliciting a breathless chuckle from him in return and you let yourself melt further into him, tilting your head to kiss him deeper and you can feel him get hard underneath you, his palms pressing you impossibly closer against his hot, muscular body.

You don’t know how much time passes, but you assume no more than a minute, when you feel Chan mumble Changbin’s name as he plucks at your shirt, trying to make you pull apart. He sounds vaguely worried and you figure you’re pushing your luck, despite Minho and Jisung’s approval, and you pull back with a sigh. Changbin doesn’t look too crestfallen, only sighs deeply when he looks up at you and smiles. He doesn’t say anything as he swipes a thumb over your cheek. When you shift off his lap, you can feel his reluctance, but he doesn’t stop you, only places gentle hands on your waist and helps you along.

You meet Minho and Jisung’s eyes across the room and to your relief, neither of them look angry. There’s a pretty little furrow in between Jisung’s brows, one you want to kiss away, but also a noticeable tent in his sweats, one you want to wrap your lips around. Minho’s face is still unreadable, though his eyes are dark, a flush high on his cheekbones. His breathing is shallow, and it doesn’t look like rage, but you’re still wary of it.

You’re distracted by cold, lithe fingers linking with yours and then Felix’s big, smiling eyes are right in front of you and you can’t help but smile back as he tugs you closer, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek so sweetly before he dips in for the filthiest kiss you’ve received yet, all tongue and teeth and spit as he drags your hand down to rest on the bulge on his pants. When you press down on it like he’s so clearly asking for, he moans dirtily, loudly, entirely heedless of the eyes of all of his members on him. He nips at your bottom lip like he wants you to break, and you nearly do, squeezing him so hard he gasps and you chuckle into his mouth evilly. He doesn’t respond, just keens into you and makes a show of sucking on your tongue and you briefly wonder who he’s putting on such a show for when he imperceptibly shifts and then Hyunjin’s lips replace Felix’s, ringed hands joining Felix’s on your body and you feel like you’re about to float away when one of them squeezes your ass and there are lips on your neck and Hyunjin hums into your mouth, tongue mapping out the inside of your mouth for the second time that night. Somewhere in the background you hear Jisung breathe out a keening “fuck” and it makes arousal zap down your spine. Felix’s hands are still running over your ass and the back of your thighs where you’re kneeling, your ass probably completely in Changbin’s face, though something tells you that if it is, he’s not complaining.

“Get a room, Jesus,” Jeongin complains, but his voice is so brittle nobody has to even look at him to know just how much he’s enjoying the view. But nonetheless, Hyunjin shifts you past him until you’re face to face with Jisung, who’s staring at you with so much need in his big, wet eyes, spit almost drooling from his bitten bottom lip, that it drives you nearly insane with the need to have him. You blink at Minho, who just rolls his eyes and nods and before you can even process what is happening, there are warm hands on your body, the room spins and then your back is pressed to the carpet, Jisung’s wet lips on yours.

He swallows your squeal of surprise, moans when you kiss him back, lacing the fingers of one of his hands with yours and pulling your hand to rest above your head as he bears down his hips and grinds into you ever so slightly; but it’s enough to make you see stars.

“See, I told you,” Minho observes coolly, but you barely hear it, Jisung and you lost in each other in the way you usually get. Minho digs the heel of his palm into where he’s straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans, relieves at least a little bit of the pressure. Then he looks out at the room before he zeroes in on Felix.

“Your turn,” he orders and Felix glares back at him, perfectly bratty, and Minho resists the temptation to reach out and swipe his thumb over Felix’s pouty bottom lip. He doesn’t know if Felix can sense it, but he crawls over to Minho with determination, preening and staring into his eyes as he makes himself at home in Minho’s lap, pert little ass right on his bulge. Minho has to bite back a groan.

“Well, you won’t mind if I start with you,” Felix purrs before he winds both of his arms around Minho’s neck and dips his head down, dragging his wet tongue up the side of Minho’s neck. It’s bold and filthy and it makes goosebumps break out all over Minho’s skin, his eyes fluttering shut as Felix continues to lick his way along his jawline and over his bottom lip before Minho has enough, fingers digging into the back of Felix’s head when he pulls him into a bruising kiss. Felix grinds down, swallows the barely audible gasp it tears out of Minho like he was made for it, his soft, little fingers winding around the back of Minho’s neck and Minho has to exert inhuman levels of self-control to use his grip in Felix’s hair to yank him back, shocking a keening moan out of Felix. To Minho’s right, Jisung is hovering over you, both of your eyes glazed over as you watch the exchange, Jisung’s hips rutting into yours almost subconsciously. Over Felix’s shoulder, Minho makes eye contact with Hyunjin, who is staring at them darkly, his bottom lip worried between his teeth so prettily Minho wants to replace it with his fingers. He tightens his grip on Felix’s hair, and the boy in his lap chuckles out a moan.

“Brat,” he grunts and Felix shrugs, extricates his lithe legs from Minho’s lap, crawling over to where Jisung is still hovering over you and smashes his lips to Jisung’s in a quick, filthy kiss that makes Jisung sway and almost tip over, nails digging into the carpet next to you. But as quickly as that, Felix pulls back, presses a peck to your lips and turns around, looking at Minho with a challenge in his eyes as he crawls across the circle.

The room is dead silent, everyone’s eyes on Felix as he calmly makes his way over to … Minho huffs out a disbelieving laugh. He knew it. Chan looks pale, his hands lying uselessly in his lap, doing nothing to obstruct their view of his boner, and not moving to stop Felix as he crawls towards him, closer and closer, until he’s right there, hovering in front of his face and looking at him. When Chan’s eyes flicker down to Felix’s lips for just a split second, Felix takes it as an answer, leans forward and brushes his nose against Chan’s before going in for a full kiss, soft but intense. Minho watches with rapt attention, watches as Chan’s eyebrows draw together, watches his hand shoot up and hover over Felix’s shoulder before finally bearing down, palm running down his arm until he can cover Felix’s hand with his. Changbin next to them looks like he might pass out, something between wonder and horror on his face, gaze flickering away when Chan and Felix finally part. Felix doesn’t smile when he turns around and returns to his place, leaning into Hyunjin’s side. Hyunjin watches him closely, throws an arm around his shoulders and presses a kiss into his hair.

Minho can feel it, a sense of guilt settling in his stomach for forcing Felix into this, so he thinks it’s only fair for him to break the tension. He turns around and makes eye contact with Seungmin, throwing him a lopsided, cocky grin. Seungmin’s eyes widen before Minho can even open his mouth.

“Come here then, puppy,” he mumbles, snatches Seungmin’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tugs him in for a kiss that makes Seungmin nearly lose his balance, an undignified squeak falling from his lips as he nearly topples over but still leans forward, closer, wrapping his palm around Minho’s arm, like he’s trying to hold him in place. Minho lets his tongue slip between Seungmin’s velvety plump lips, licks at his teeth filthily until Seungmin’s jaw relaxes, lets him pry it open as much as he wants. But he seems to be in the mood to tease his subby little boys because he forces himself to pull back again, way too early for even his own liking, making Seungmin almost slump forward, lips still parted, blinking up at him so hazy Minho’s cock twitches in his pants.

But Seungmin doesn’t take long to regain his senses, blushing a furious red as he blinks the haze from his eyes, and pulls back, eyes trained on the ground.

“Jesus Christ,” Changbin breathes out, his cheeks still flushed as he blinks at the bottle, “was that everyone now? Please tell me that was everyone.”

Minho is just about to answer when he hears it, Jisung’s barely contained whimper and the choked, heady moan that follows, and his brain short-circuits.

“Did Jisung just …” Jeongin rasps out, his face a grimace of stunned disbelief.

Minho turns and he sees your fucked out, cocky smile before he sees Jisung’s face buried in your neck, burning ears peeking out from under his floppy hair. His back is heaving, tremors running through his body where he’s grinding into you half-heartedly. Minho would feel embarrassed or bad for Jisung, if he didn’t know that what likely brought Jisung to a head was the fact that everyone was watching, his burning ears a sign of shame, yes, but a type of shame that will make him hard for the rest of his life. His sweet little boy, sweet nasty little boy.

“Jisung and Minho are still left,” Felix observes, sticking out his tongue when Minho glares at him.

“I’m not kissing Jisung right now, not when he …” Chan blurts out and waves his hand around the air vaguely, freezing when eight pairs of eyes whip over to him, some in utter disbelief. Minho nearly laughs out loud.

“You … and Jisung,” Jeongin whispers, his eyebrows furrowing further before he lets his head drop into his hands, “this group is insane.”

Hyunjin chuckles lightly, “it’s okay, Innie, we’re just having fun.”

Jeongin lifts his head and sends Hyunjin a sharp glance that makes Hyunjin swallow drily. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And as much as Minho is enjoying the view, the revelations, the sheer sexual tension in the room, his dick is so painfully hard that it hurts.

He can feel everyone’s eyes on him as he scoots over to where Jisung is slowly, dazedly, peeling himself off you with his cheeks still bright red and a sizeable wet spot in his sweats. Minho reaches out a hand to run it through Jisung’s tangled hair.

“Well done, Sungie,” he murmurs and Jisung whines, a grimace of shame and arousal painting his whole face as Minho leans in and kisses him softly. “Now let me have her, won’t you.”

You breathe out a weak chuckle, watching as Minho helps Jisung climb off you, dazedly sitting up and hiding his face in Hyunjin’s back when he realises everyone’s staring at him. Hyunjin pats his shoulder comfortingly, but his eyes are on Minho, as Minho scoops you up and pulls you into his lap. And no, usually Minho doesn’t like so many eyes on him when he kisses you or Jisung, but something about the way Hyunjin is looking at him, the way the eyes of all these men who have gotten to kiss you and fuck you are on him – he is burning up with it, with the jealous need to pull you into his arms.

When you’re settled between Minho’s safe arms, you give him a devastating smile and Minho grins back, dragging his lips along your jaw until his breath hits the shell of your ear. His voice a whisper just for you when he finally speaks.

“Let me remind them all who you belong to.”

He hears your giggle and then you turn your head and capture his lips and his eyes slip shut as his hands drag up your thighs and to your ass and when he slips his tongue into your mouth he can taste Jisung but also so many other tongues on you that he momentarily blacks out, jealousy and arousal crackling through his body, his cock leaking into his boxers. He rips his mouth from you, relishing in your hot lips travelling down his throat as he reaches over to the bottle, pretending to spin it and making it point at himself.

“7 minutes in heaven or something. With her,” he rasps out and you chuckle wildly into his neck, biting at the skin so hard it makes goosebumps break out all over his skin, “though I don’t think we’ll need more than five.”

Jisung grins stupidly where he’s half collapsed into Hyunjin, watching as Minho winds an arm around you and gets up, carrying you into the bathroom, watching as the door swings shut and the members stare after you dumbfounded. His boxers are still sticky, and his cock is already interested again, but he just allows himself to sink further into Hyunjin, nuzzling his face into his shoulder. He observes carefully as Jeongin’s eyes linger on Hyunjin, his brows furrowed in thought as his eyes slip over where Hyunjin sits, with both Jisung and Felix draped over him and Jisung briefly wonders what will happen. Then something clatters to the floor in the bathroom and he gets distracted, his mouth watering as he waits for you and Minho to come back out, at which point he hopes Minho will drag you both into his room and Jisung can finally get Minho’s dick in his ass where the plug has been pressing into him the whole night.

When the toothpaste tips over and tumbles over the edge of the counter, you barely notice, too distracted by Minho’s hot, demanding hands slipping into your pants and panties, tucking them down your legs impatiently. You let him pry your mouth open further with his tongue and dig your nails into his neck just the way he likes it and he groans, his hands flying to his own jeans to undo his belt and shove them down his legs. The belt buckle clacks against the tiles.

“Please tell me you won’t last long either,” he growls into your mouth and presses another feverish kiss to your lips before he turns you around. You bend readily, your hands bracing yourself against the counter. He rocks forward, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance and you moan out, shaking your head furiously.

“I won’t … fuck, please, Min,” you pant out and he presses forward, a few inches of his cock slipping in and stretching you so perfectly your legs start trembling, “just fucking … fuck just fuck me, baby.”

Minho groans and kicks his hips forward, burying himself into your soaking heat with a barely contained moan.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re wet,” he mumbles absentmindedly as he fucks you into you lazily once, twice before his grip on your hips tightens and he starts pulling you back against his cock. Your mind swims and when you lick your lips you can still taste Jisung, can feel the phantom of the breath he had expelled as he came into his pants earlier. Minho snaps his hips harder, one of his hands sliding up your spine until it’s buried in your hair and he pulls, making you arch your back until he’s pounding right into your g-spot.

If it were anyone other than Minho, you might be embarrassed by how fast you’re getting close, already pulsing around his cock where he fucks into you like that, hard and deep and just how you like it, but you can feel him throb, can feel the slight stutter of his hips. When your eyes meet in the mirror, you see the same darkness you saw when you looked over at him after kissing Changbin, can see it consume his gorgeous eyes, and you whimper.

“I’m y-yours, Min,” you manage to pant out and Minho curses, screws his eyes shut, “I’m yours … and Jisung’s … nobody else can … compare.”

Minho moans out, low and tortured, letting go of your hair and smoothing his hand down your back instead.

“Fuck, keep saying it,” he mumbles and you moan again, the heat in your belly building and building as Minho drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m yours,” you pant out, strangled, desperate, “only y-yours, Min. You’re the only one … they don’t … oh, fuck they will never … never have me like this … I- … I love you.”

You wail out your profession of love as your orgasm tears through you, your legs nearly giving out, but Minho catches you, pulling you against him and letting your frantically clenching cunt take him over the edge. He cums inside you with a wild moan, continuing to grind into you as he rides it out, shooting ropes and ropes of his seed deep inside you.

You feel boneless when he stills, leaning forward and leaning his forehead against your back. Your legs are still shaking, but he keeps you upright. When he pulls out, you can feel hot, sticky seed spill out of you and you hiss, clenching almost automatically to try to keep it in. Minho hums, his eyes trained between your legs. He licks his lips but seems to change his mind, instead pulling up his own pants and grabbing some toilet paper, holding you up by your hips as he gently cleans you up. When he’s done, he balls up the tissue and throws it into the toilet.

He gives you a lopsided grin and presses a kiss to your nape.

“The rest you’re gonna keep in for me.”

He dresses you, pulling your clothes back into place and dragging a comb through your hair where he had gripped it, and then he pats your ass and moves to the door. He whispers a hushed I love you into your lips before he ushers you out, but then all gentleness is wiped from his face, and is replaced by your favourite kind of cocky possessiveness when the members stare at him.

“Five minutes, on the dot,” Jisung stage-whispers to you when you sink down next to him, loud enough for the whole room to hear, and you slap his arm. He just leans in and steals a kiss, licking Minho’s taste off your lips and turns back to the room.

“Now who wants do shots?”

wanna see minho's pov of the kiss with changbin? I wrote a 1.7k word drabble about it

was this too insane? pls let me know. also the way I left the ending open and still have truths and dares and never have i ever questions open, what is wrong with me

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You nuzzle back into his shoulder and just lie there. You try to see if you can match his breathing, but it’s always been different from yours. Much deeper, so much so that you feel like you’re running out of air. So you stop and just let your mind drift.

You feel him pull back ever so slightly from you, and you think he’s just adjusting his head on the pillow, but after a few minutes you feel his lips on your forehead, on your one eyelid, on the other. You blink your eyes open and meet his, big and soft and brown and sleepy.

Neither of you say anything. He just looks at you, takes his time taking in your features, brushing a gentle finger over the shell of your ear before his hand comes back down to your thigh, pulling you even closer. He presses sweet kisses to your cheek, down until he’s at the corner of your mouth.

His lips are warm and dry and soft and he presses them to yours delicately like he thinks you might break. Or maybe it’s the moment he doesn’t want to break.

But the same current that has been pulling you to wards each other ever since you met pulls you closer now, your bodies slowly attuning to each other until his lips become more insistent. Your movements are slow, almost like the two of you are in a dream, as his warm palm slides from your thigh up to your ass and you ruck your leg higher over his hips, pulling him in with the heel of your foot.

When you open your lips and his tongue grazes yours, his taste envelops you and you sigh into his mouth, a wave of arousal shimmering in your abdomen. He stutters out a breath and when you arch into him, you can feel him hard in his sweats.

No words are needed when you slide your fingers under his waistband, caressing his skin before tugging them down. He lifts his hips to help you, without breaking away from you, without moving too much, and then his velvety cock springs free and you wrap your hand around it. He sighs into your mouth, lips trembling against yours as you palm him slowly, gently.

His tongue presses into your mouth harder, and his hand clutches at your sleep shorts, unhooking your leg from his hips so he can pull them down with a quiet urgency. When you’re bare, he hoists your leg back over him, arm wrapping around your back so he can press your full body into his.

Your shirts are rucking up and you can feel his hard abdomen against yours and his hot cock against your thighs until he takes himself into his hand and presses it up.

Matching hushed whimpers tumble past your lips when his cock slides through the slick of your already soaking core and you arch closer, your hand sliding into the hair at the back of his head, trying to pull him closer, though there’s nowhere to go. But he seems to feel it, too, his arm winding around you again, manoeuvring you slightly higher onto the bed until he can guide his cock to your entrance.

You’re not prepped, but he’s also not hurrying, burying the tip of his cock in you with a forlorn whimper. He fills you up slowly as he kisses you, heavy breaths against your lips as your cunt slowly sucks him in. It’s dizzying like this, the stretch so heavenly as your bodies find each other, pull each other closer and closer almost naturally.

When he’s buried to the hilt, he pulls back from your lips, a vision of soft eyes and swollen lips and flushed cheeks as he stares into your eyes. You can feel yourself flutter around him, and his hips twitch underneath you. When he ruts himself into you experimentally, you gasp out and he chokes on a groan, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as he does it again and your head clouds over with desire.

The angle should be awkward, but instead it’s good, so good it makes heat pool deep in your abdomen and you can feel yourself get wetter and wetter, the slide of Seungmin’s cock inside of you getting easier and easier and you know he can tell when he moans into your neck.

The duvet mutes the wet slide of where he’s grinding into you lazily but steadily and your heavy breaths are hushed, so you can still hear the scrape of pots in the kitchen and Jeongin’s voice and it’s almost more intimate this way, the thrill of you and Seungmin, just you and him, together, wound around each other so tightly it’s impossible to tell where you end and he begins, nobody privy to how perfect he moulds around you, fits inside of you.

Your body is burning up and you can feel a thin sheen of sweat form underneath his shirt, but neither of you moves the thick blanket, like it forms the barrier between what is happening between you and the outside world.

His hand is under your top, nails dragging over the slightly sweaty skin on your back, his cheek pressed against yours as he grinds into you over and over again. The tip of his cock is prodding your g-spot and his pubic bone grinds against your clit, and your orgasm is building slowly and deliciously with every single one of his thrusts.

And he feels it, too, pulling back and resting his sweaty forehead against yours, watching your face with eyes holding more love than you ever thought you deserved as he ruts into you, getting you closer and closer and closer and then watches you fall apart around him, your whole body trembling as you soak his cock.

He follows after you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to mute his wail as he empties inside of you, little ruts of his hips fucking his release deeper until he stills.

You come to rest where you lie as you catch your breath, his head in your neck, his softening cock still inside you.

Outside the door, something clatters to the floor and you hear Jeongin yelp and Minho cackle. The room is quiet again except for your breaths and the occasional ‘plink’ of a raindrop hitting the metal windowsill. A gust of wind howls through the bad insulation and makes the bathroom door rattle on its hinges.

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