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• The Blackened Heart • Part One
A Han Jisung Mini Series
© itshannjisung, 2024
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Genre: Pirate SKZ
Pairing: PirateThief!Jisung x Female Captain Reader x Ex-Bandit Lino
Summary: When Y/N, Captain of the Blackened Heart, gets offered a large sum of money to deliver a thief to the Jarl of Serpent Point, she and her crew greedily accept. But while spending time with the familiar thief during their long journey back home, she realizes just how important human connection can be, even for a pirate.
Warnings: Pirate SKZ. Swearing. Mentions of weapons. Violence. Mentions of brothels. Small mention of death.
** The author has left out some warnings to create an element of surprise with certain topics in/throughout this chapter. Reader discretion is advised. **
Word Count: 8.5k
A/N: I am aware that a lot of concepts and ideas throughout this fic will not be historically and biblically accurate. I've done my fair share of research about pirates of all kinds, from all different eras and countries, and I know pirates never lived lavishly; they didn't have proper tools for healthy hygiene, they never had 'fancy' meals, they never had access to first aid/doctors to help tend to their wounds after battle or when illness struck, their beds were often nothing but a wooden board and some thin cloth. I know not all dubloons rounded off to $16, and gems were rare to find. I know that in some eras, guns and bows didn't even exist, making combat difficult and more intense with only swords and daggers alike. I know chewing tobacco and pipes were commonly used, and STDs were common amongst the members of the crews.
Let me reinstate that.. **I AM AWARE OF ALL OF THIS AND SO MUCH MORE**
However, for the sake of this fic and where I wanted it to go, I changed a lot of those things. I pulled a lot of inspiration for this fic not only from Lalalala MV and the Rockstar comeback, but from video games that I’ve played that had pirates and jarls and thieves alike in them as well (mostly ESO, Skyrim, Assassins Creed, ect.).
So, as I've said, I am aware not everything in this is accurate, a lot of the lore and concepts are farfetched and not entirely realistic, but at the end of the day, there is NOTHING realistic about Pirate SKZ 😋
Happy Reading Everyone! Your thoughts and feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy! ♡
Serpent Point was, by far, the most repulsive city you've ever set foot in, and you were ashamed that you had once called the place home.
The small city sprawled out like an ugly scar across the dirty coastline, barely protected by the dead and decaying trees of the forest surrounding it. With rusted hulls, scavenged scraps, and towering heaps of trash, it felt as though it was built by the vermin that scurried across the streets and flooded the docks. Salt and sweat hung heavy in the air, mixed with the sharp sting of tobacco smoke and the lingering fumes of the nearby fish-processing plant, making anybody who stepped foot on Serpent Point soil gag from its intensity.
As you walked towards the shore, your old, muddy boots click-clacked against the broken wooden dock, your quartermaster and personal guard flanking your sides.
"I'll never understand how we always end up back here," Chan spoke with venom in his tone as he eyed the rickety old fort in the distance that was once his childhood home. Even from the shoreline, you could make out the large cracks stretching out across the stone structure, moss and mildew creeping from every fissure like an untreatable disease.
"I don't understand how the two of you even survived here," Lino commented shortly after, a shake of his head causing his chocolate-brown hair to sway back and forth. With a look of utter disgust, he side-stepped an old man who was sprawled on the dirt, hands reaching for Lino’s trousers with desperate, drunken eyes. It wasn't until the old man began shouting incessantly that the smell of alcohol wafted from his mouth straight to your nostrils, and you pinched your nose closed in revolt.
"Believe me, it wasn't by choice," you murmured, pushing forward and ignoring the babbling drunk. "If it had been, I'd be born anywhere but here."
"Amen," Chan agreed under his breath.
The walk to Fort Foucher, the Jarl's residence, was quick—partially because the city was small, but mostly because the three of you had little patience for the staggering drunks and pitiful beggars who clogged the streets.
Once you reached the entrance to the Fort, the Jarl's guards welcomed you in with disgruntled noises and curses beneath their breaths. The Jarl may have been expecting you, requesting you specifically by name, but that didn't mean his men held any sort of respect towards females in power. They spat nasty remarks and looks of disapproval your way despite the two menacing men at your side, and their frowns deepened impossibly more when you walked past the group of them with a certain confidence in your stride. It took everything in you not to release your dagger from its scabbard and huck it their way.
You were here on special request from the Jarl himself, and if you didn't need the coin he hinted at in his letter, you would have yet to show up to this low-class city to begin with. Killing his men before meeting with the man himself was not the brightest idea, no matter how tempting it may be.
Thankfully, a short, stubby man in a dirty blue coat and off-white stockings signaled from the back of the main foyer, pulling you from your murderous thoughts. He was waiting patiently to guide you to the throne room himself as if you hadn't been inside the Fort countless times before.
After catching your attention, the pudgy male turned and began walking away. He didn't even bother to make sure you were following as he led you down the old, dilapidated hallway to the set of double wooden doors at the end, where the Jarl would be waiting for your arrival just beyond.
The man stopped short just before the entrance to the room, bowed lazily to you and your men, and then opened the doors, granting you access inside. You took a deep breath as the golden light spilt from the room, making the hallway's darkness seem all the more oppressive behind you.
"After you, Cap," Lino spoke in a hushed tone, one hand waving you into the room while the other sat dangerously on the sharp dagger at his hip. His brown eyes flickered around the room, silently scouting for danger before you took another deep, calming puff of air and stepped inwards.
You bowed formally to the man in blue before entering the throne room, nerves bubbling in the pit of your stomach.
The first thing you noticed when you entered was the stench of old tobacco, worse than outside. That, mixed with the scent of wilting flowers and old wax, had you resisting the urge to scrunch your face up in disgust at the odor. It was an odd, unsettling combination, causing bile to rise up your throat that you had to push back down forcefully.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite buccaneer," Jarl Foucher’s voice scraped against your ears in the most unpleasant way. He struggled off of his raggedy old chair and opened his arms wide in welcome with a toothy grin on his face. His long, dirty grey hair was pulled back from his temples, allowing you a full view of his gross, scraggly beard. His teeth were yellow and chipped, his breath reeking of smoke and moonshine even from across the room, and his eyes were wrinkled and faded from their natural green into something almost stale and completely lifeless.
He looked exactly how you remembered him to be.
"Jarl Foucher," you smiled back, the action forced and not at all reaching your eyes. You lowered yourself respectfully to the floor before him, Chan following suit. Meanwhile, Lino remained still at your side, his eyes flittering over the guards cautiously. The raised pink scar that slashed over his left eye and down his cheekbone twitched in anticipation as his body tensed, his face hard as stone.
"Greetings Cristoff," Foucher barely spared his estranged son a glance before his attention was on Lino, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. You turned slightly to glare up at Lino, silently yelling at him to get on the ground and bow to the Jarl, but instead, Lino just stood unwavering, looking calm, cool and completely collected.
“And who may this gentleman be?” Foucher asked, his eyes lingering on the man, sharp and calculating. “I haven’t seen him amongst your crew before.”
“This is my guard, Lino Lee.” You spoke carefully, hoping to break some of the tension that was rolling off of Lino’s shoulders in waves as Foucher analyzed him. He seemed unbothered, but you know it was only an act he performed in the presence of authority figures. He hated Royals with a burning passion.
“The boys and I pulled him from the sea a while back after his boat up and sank, and he’s been indebted to us ever since. Rest assured, he poses you no harm.”
Foucher scrutinized Lino with curiosity, but his gaze eventually returned to you.
“A rogue bandit put in charge of keeping you safe? Surely you’re not that foolish, Captain.” The Jarl’s eyes gleamed with amusement as if he could tell what dirty things were going on between you and Lino behind closed doors. It was hard to resist Lino’s rogue image and impeccable charm, you had to admit that, and you hoped to god it wasn’t as obvious to the Jarl as it was to the rest of your crew.
Yes, you and Lino indulged in each other regularly while out at sea, you were only human after all, but everything that happened between the two of you was purely physical. There were no lingering feelings, second guesses or confusion as to what you two were to each other. You two had been clear and concise from the moment you first took that step only a few months prior, and you were determined to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Not that the Jarl needed to know any of that, but based on the look he was giving the two of you now, you knew he suspected romance was in play. You felt a sudden urge of determination to shut his suspicions down, but you didn’t want to draw any more attention to it than deemed necessary.
“I can assure you, Your Majesty, Lino is no longer a bandit, and as I’ve said, he is indebted to me.” You tried to assure him. “He has pledged himself in my honor and strayed from the path he once walked. I apologize for his defiance, he is still getting accustomed to life on Royal territory.”
With a nod of his head, Foucher turned his body around to address his guards in a silent conversation, no doubt telling them to keep an eye on the young lad, and in that time, you reached over and punched Lino on his leather-clad arm.
“Ow! Why?” he hissed under his breath.
Ah yes, Lino Lee, the man of many words.
“Show some respect,” you growled in a low tone. “You’re in the presence of the leader of Serpent Point.”
Lino rolled his eyes, his fingers coming down to fiddle with the sheath that one of his two daggers rested in; the matching one sat on his opposite hip.
“After everything he’s done to Chan? To you? Not a chance.” Lino glowered back quietly. You raised your eyebrow and gave him a look of warning at his usual act of defiance. The two of you then stared off for a second, silently challenging one another, before Lino’s eyes fell from yours and he gave in like he always did when it came to you. He may have quickly established himself the title of the crew’s most lethal and loyal protector, but you were the one who had control of the leash.
“Fine,” he grumbled under his breath. “I’ll be as respectful as I need to be, but I’m not getting on this filthy floor to bow down to him.”
You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at him again. As if he hadn’t lain on floors worse than this in his days of being a delinquent.
A smart-ass remark sat on the tip of your tongue, but before you could release it, Foucher turned back around and clapped his hands, capturing everyone's attention once again.
“Everything alright, Captain?” he asked with a smirk, staring at you as if to say ‘trouble in paradise already?’. You straightened your back and gave him an assured nod of your head.
“Everything is fine, Your Majesty. I do, however, have a lot of work to be done on my ship before our scheduled departure come morning. As much as I hate to cut our visit short, may I ask why you’ve called upon us today?”
The words rolled off your tongue with a bitter aftertaste, but Foucher barely registered the annoyance in your tone, his smile warm as he retreated to his seat.
“Of course,”
You, Chan and Lino, waited patiently in silence while Foucher settled back into the worn-out fabric. A couple of long seconds passed by before he spoke again, his fingers tapping against one another in boredom.
“Queen Aliyah of Cliffpoint Hollow has sent word that she has a criminal sitting in her jailhouse. The criminal in question is a thief who has been robbing me and my men for nearly a decade. He had escaped our jail unnoticed merely three years ago and he’s been evading us ever since.”
You gave Foucher an expressionless look while you waited for him to continue, wondering what any of this had to do with you and your crew. Meanwhile, Chan’s eyes practically bulged out of his face, his mouth open in surprise.
“Wait, the Queen Aliyah? As in-”
“The leader of the land, ruler of Fatewatch? Yes, indeed, the very one.” Foucher confirmed, cutting Chan off without a glance his way. His eyes stayed focused on you as he continued with his proposal.
“I have a chest in my treasury containing more than fifty thousand gold doubloons, alongside a large amount of stolen gems and jewelry. I cannot be bothered to take it all to a moving man, so the lot of it can be yours if you travel to Cliffpoint and bring that thief back to me.”
Your jaw dropped disrespectfully in utter shock, and you felt both boys tense up beside you at the offer. Fifty thousand gold was an unfathomable amount of money. If each of those coins was valued at sixteen dollars a piece like they usually were, you were looking at at least eight hundred thousand dollars in gold, not including the stolen goods.
You’d be stupid to turn that down.
However, if there was anything you learned from your time spent at sea, it was that everything came with a price.
Absolutely everything.
“Sir, I-”
Foucher cut you off abruptly with a raise of his hand.
“I would prefer him alive, but he is known to be quite cocky at times, so if it comes down to it, his dead body will do. Of course, it’ll dock your pay, but I’m sure you’d still have enough to cover the costs to get your beloved ship back in order.”
Foucher waited while you, Lino and Chan exchanged mixed looks of confusion, apprehension and disbelief. The room was silent for a few minutes as the three of you attempted to process the information.
That was until Lino opened his mouth.
“And what exactly is it that this thief stole from you?” Lino spoke suddenly, cocking his head to the side like a cat as he eyed Foucher as if he were merely a peasant and not the goddamn overseer of the entire northern point of Fatewatch. “How bad of a crime did he commit to justify us travelling across the globe to fetch him for you? Why not let the Queen kill him instead?”
“Lino!” you hissed between clenched teeth, seemingly having enough of his attitude. “Will you cu-”
“It’s alright Captain,” Foucher raised his hand to cut you off once more, a sly smile on his face. “The bandit has the right to ask, I suppose.”
Your fingers twitched as Foucher raised from his seat and walked towards the three of you again, his hands folded neatly behind his back. A sense of unease washed over you as you took in his calm and relaxed facade.
“You see when I was a young boy, my mother fell incredibly ill and passed away tragically. When she died, she left behind her ring, one that had been passed down through generations and generations of ancestors before me, and this criminal stole it from right under my nose. He now wears this ring on his pointer finger like some trophy he’s won for robbing me blind. I simply want it back.”
Lino scoffed as he crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest, raising an eyebrow in defiance. “You want us to travel halfway across the globe to fetch you a flimsy ring?”
Before anyone could say another word, Foucher’s hand retreated from behind his back, and in one swift motion, he backhanded Lino across the face. Foucher’s eyes burned hot as he smacked the younger man, and if it weren’t for Foucher then raising his hands to halt the guards behind him who were bustling for a fight, you would’ve run to Lino’s side.
However, shock rendered you stuck in place.
Lino stood in shock as well at the Jarl’s actions. A strand of hair fell into his face, but he didn’t bother trying to fix it. He simply stood there, eyes angry as he whipped his head back to glare at the Jarl, whose eyes widened in what you could only assume was a sliver of fear at the dangerous look now planted on Lino’s face.
For a second, you worried for the Jarl’s life, but Lino didn’t move, for which you were thankful. He may have hated Royals with every fiber of his being, but he knew when to fight back and when not to. You silently thanked the gods that he didn’t retaliate.
“Watch your tongue, boy.” Foucher snapped, seemingly masking his terror behind his title of authority. Droplets of spit spewed from his mouth and into Lino’s face. “That ring is a family heirloom. Sixteenth-century gold, embedded with only the finest diamonds and rubies alike. You should be thankful a lowlife pillager like yourself will even be able to set his sights on something so magnificent.”
Without a second thought, Foucher stepped away from a now-fuming Lino and approached you with a wide, almost sadistic smile. The anger in his eyes had vanished so quickly it nearly gave you whiplash, and you had to slightly raise your fingers to stop Lino from rushing to your defense.
“So, Captain. Whaddya say?”
You opened your mouth to give him your answer, to tell him just exactly where he could shove his chest of treasure and stolen goods when Chan spoke up first, cutting you off. His tone was harsh and venomous, clearly pissed at Foucher’s assault on his crewmate.
“But Father,” he paused and corrected himself quickly with a smirk. “Sorry, Foucher. Why are you asking this of us? You have an entire army of men at your beck and call, as well as one of the best navigators in the country no doubt naked in your bed as we speak. Why do you need us to do this for you?”
Although it was meant as a dig at the Jarl and his piggish personality, Foucher laughed humorlessly at Chan’s words. The sound was like metal scraping metal, and it made all the hair on the back of your neck stick up.
“Well because, dear Cristoff,” Foucher spoke his name with a sneer. “Captain Y/N and the crew of the Blackened Heart have unfortunately become infamous across the country. Stories of your victories have been passed through taverns and inns alike for years. It’s the only reason I haven’t called on you to return to my side. If there’s anyone who could travel to Cliffpoint Hollow and bring this criminal back to me, it’s you guys.”
Your face reddened immensely at the Jarl's sudden praise.
“Cliffpoint is merely a few months or so away, and quite frankly, none of my men are trained and confident enough to make the trek themselves. As I said, do this and the three of you, alongside the other five, will be rewarded greatly for your service. We’ll provide you with enough supplies for you and your goons to make the journey there, as long as you bring that scum of a human being back to me so I can put an end to his pathetic life once and for all.”
It felt like a dream. Sure, Cliffpoint Hollow was a long journey from home, halfway across the globe as Lino had pointed out before, but if all you had to do to earn fifty thousand gold was deliver a thief to the Jarl’s doorstep, you’d be stupid not to say yes.
You looked at Lino, whose cheek was still burning red, silently asking for his opinion. He ignored the stinging in his face and shrugged at you nonchalantly, but the twinkle in his eyes showed he was anxious for the adventure.
Or maybe he was just anxious to get the hell away from Serpent Point once and for all before his annoyance took over and he beheaded the Jarl before anyone could blink an eye.
Chan gave you a nod of encouragement as well, clearly desperate to experience the world the way he said he wanted to when he walked out on his father and showed up at your ship all those years ago. This was a free ticket across the globe, something he never would’ve been granted if he still lived under Foucher’s watch. There was no way he was turning this down.
You cocked your head back to look at Foucher, rubbing your hands nervously against the black trousers you wore. You cleared your throat once, bringing yourself to ask the one question you were dying to know since the mission was brought upon you.
“What’s the thief's name?” you inquired with a raised brow. If Foucher was asking this of you, whoever it was had to be important. And transporting important prisoners usually came with enemies who would do anything to make sure the jailbird wouldn't make it back alive. If you were going to potentially put your men in danger, you needed details.
Foucher must’ve mistook your question as a ‘yes’, because he clapped his hands and opened his arms wide, a joyous victory on his lips. He smiled brightly at you and he came forward, wrapping his large, wrinkly hands around your face and holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him.
The feeling made your gut twist uncomfortably.
“Maybe you’ve heard of him. He’s Scout’s youngest boy. You know Scout, yes?”
Your teeth clenched tightly the second the name left his mouth. A burning coil of anger sparked in your stomach as you recognized the name of the leader of the Thieves Den. The one who took everything from you, including your family. The one who committed the bloodiest heist on Serpent Point soil and still somehow got away. The memory of it punched you in the chest, while the memory of his son nearly brought you to your knees completely.
This was why Foucher wanted you and your crew to do this. This was why he called upon you and your men to take on such a task, making such an unfathomable offer for the job.
Anybody in the world could do it. City patrons and pirates alike have been doing so for years with little to no payout as a reward.
This wasn’t just a delivery mission.
It was a test of loyalty.
One he was expecting you to fail if the sparkle in his eyes was anything to go by.
Fifty thousand gold hung in the balance, and you were determined to get it. Not only for you but for the seven men who happily followed you and worked for you as if you were their Queen.
Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood, but the Jarl continued to speak, completely unaware of the turmoil happening in your chest.
“He was the one who ambushed me and my men in Fogrush Bay. I believe he goes by -”
“Jisung fucking Han II.” you seethed.
“I’m just saying, if Queen Aliyah is the leader of all of Fatewatch, why does she live on a whole other continent instead of here?” Lino grumbled, trailing after you and Chan as the three of you made your way back to the docks. His confusion drew hearty laughs from you and Chan, echoing in the quiet dawn that settled over the town.
“Who knows, Li,” you shrugged, stepping aside to let a small carriage clatter past before falling back in line. “Maybe the rum is just better in Cliffpoint.”
Lino scowled, unimpressed. “Doesn’t make a damn bit of sense to me.”
You chuckled, enjoying how such a trivial mystery could get under his skin so easily. It was a welcome distraction from the anxiety that still swirled in your gut after that tense meeting with Foucher. Lino probably sensed it too; he had a knack for reading your mood without a word, one of the reasons why he was such a reliable guard—and an even better lover if you might add.
“Nothing ever makes sense to you, Lino. You’re about as dense as Paisley’s baking.” Chan’s grin was wide as he gave Lino a playful shove, making him stumble.
“Oh, shut it, Chan,” Lino muttered back, though a reluctant smile crept onto his face as he regained his footing.
“Just another one of life's greatest mysteries,” you teased.
Lino rolled his eyes, nose wrinkling in irritation. “Like the time you got all riled up about why cats stick their tongues out when they’re happy.” you then added with a grin.
Lino’s dark eyes slid to you, narrowing in a faux glare. “Yeah, well, at least felines are cute.” You snickered and patted him on the back in mock reassurance.
“Hey. I hear Queen Aliyah’s pretty cute too.” You winked, but Lino’s gaze darkened to a scowl, and for a moment, you caught the dangerous edge in his expression, sending goosebumps down your arms.
“As if I give a damn,” Lino sneered. “You know how much I despise royals.”
Chan clicked his tongue disapprovingly, bringing your attention back to him. “Listen, Lino,” he smirked, pink creeping up his cheeks. “You don’t have to fancy royals for them to be a good lay.”
His words made you scoff and cross your arms before granting him a bored look. “Oh, please Channie—you’re practically a virgin.”
Chan’s eyes widened, mouth gaping, too stunned to speak as he tripped over his own feet. Righting himself, he looked at you in betrayed disbelief.
“I am not!” he finally managed, clutching his chest dramatically. You ignored the strange looks the three of you were now receiving from passers-by and gave him a sly but interested smile in return.
“Oh, is that so? You’ve spent the last eight years at sea with me. When exactly would you have had a chance to ‘entertain’ a royal?”
The colour in Chan’s cheeks deepened, and suddenly, he looked like a man with a story to tell. He shrugged, straightening with a newfound confidence before Lino draped an arm over his shoulders in intrigue.
“Let’s just say, Jarl Alderidge’s daughter wasn’t the only woman I… indulged in back when I was set to court her,” he admitted. You and Lino both raised your eyebrows at him in question, trying to piece together his meaning.
Chan had left his father's side when he was barely eighteen years old. He was set to court and marry a royal from a few cities over, but he left shortly after the courting began. You blinked a couple of times, thinking back to the awful family he was supposed to be wed into, and realisation finally dawned on you as the pieces fell into place. Your stomach turned in mock disgust as you reached out and gave him a light punch on the arm.
“Oh, for the love of—Jarl Alderidge’s wife?”
Chan blocked your half-hearted blow, laughing. “What? Lady Tatiana is a beautiful woman, and the opportunity presented itself. Who was I to deny her?”
You aimed another punch his way, but Lino quickly tugged you back with a laugh, one hand wrapped around your waist while the other clapped Chan on the shoulder. “Good grief, Channie, you should have been born in a brothel.”
The two of them snorted, and you rolled your eyes, suppressing the urge to smack the pride off their faces.
“Does Paisley know about this?” you asked, shaking off Lino’s arm and falling back into step beside them.
“Of course, she knows.” Chan’s expression softened at the mention of his soon-to-be wife. “I’d never keep anything from her. Paisley and I—there’s nothing we wouldn’t tell each other.”
You and Lino exchanged a look, simultaneously groaning in exaggerated disgust.
“Ew.”
“Gross.”
Chan shook his head and gave the two of you a pointed stare.
“What’s the matter with you two?” he asked, clearly offended by your reactions.
“Human connection is what’s the matter,” you answered with a shrug.
“It’s absolutely sickening,” Lino added with a cringe.
Chan's face fell. “What? What’s so gross and sickening about having an open and honest relationship with the one I love most? What is it about having someone to come home to after weeks at sea that makes the two of you so disgusted?”
You gagged theatrically.
“Literally every part of what you just said.”
Chan then rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated.
“You two are closer than anyone else I know. Isn’t that deeper than what Paisley and I have? Seungmo and Millie? Jinn and Ophelia?”
You let out a long sigh as the three of you finally stepped back onto the old, decaying dock. The boards of wood groaned beneath your feet, some barely holding together. “Oh please, Channie. There is absolutely nothing romantic between Lino and me. We’re just… mutually beneficial.”
“Right,” Lino agreed as you squeezed past the rows of empty carts crowding the walkway. “I’d rather jab a dagger into my own eye than settle down.”
Chan shot the bandit a look of pure disbelief.
“And I’m the one who belongs in a brothel?”
Both you and Lino shared a final laugh as you approached your ship, anchored at the end of the dock like a beast at rest. Leading the way, you crossed the narrow plank that bridged the dock to your vessel, landing with a solid thud.
Jinn, your sharp-eyed sailing master, was leaning against the railing, chewing idly on tobacco, while Binni, your burly artilleryman, sat next to him on a creaky old stool, the two of them mid-conversation. Their words stopped short the instant you touched down.
“Welcome back, Cap.” Jinn greeted, flicking his head to the side as he spat overboard without care. “How did things go with the Jarl?”
You let out a heavy exhale, mind already on the meeting you’d be calling shortly with the rest of your crew. They wouldn’t be happy that you decided on this new job alone; normally, the entire crew weighs in before a vote is held. But today, your gut had already made the call.
“Went fine. Important business,” you replied with a curt nod of your head, watching as Jinn’s expression tightened slightly in response. You then turned to Chan, the light-hearted mood from earlier gone. As soon as your feet hit the surface of your ship, it was business as usual. “Get everyone together below deck. Crew meeting in ten.”
Chan nodded, the humour in his eyes vanishing as he took off to round up the others. You barely spared him a second glance as you turned back to Jinn, whose lounging posture now told you he had no intention of springing into action like his crewmate.
“Are the twins back yet?” you asked.
“Not last I saw,” Jinn replied. “They went down to the market.” He raised a brow and shrugged, clearly unconcerned.
You let out a quiet sigh and glanced at Binni, who only gave you a knowing smile in return.
“Go get them, Jinn. We’re in a hurry.”
You watched with little patience as Jinn rolled his eyes with all the petulance of a bored child. “Why me? Binni’s been sitting here gnawing on jerky all day. Let him get off his ass for once.” he complained in his typical tone of defiance.
Binni raised his eyebrows, slowly standing as he glowered at the younger male. Although he was a head shorter than Jinn, his solid build made him all the more imposing. He loomed over Jinn with a look that would send most men scurrying away in fear, but Jinn, ever used to the infamous glower, held his ground unfazed.
Before either of them could escalate, you stepped in between them, pushing each back a step.
“Enough,” you snapped before turning your glare back to your navigator. “Jinn, unless you’ve suddenly developed a talent for taking stock and loading the armoury, I suggest you stop whining and get moving.”
Jinn's face turned red, and with a small bow of compliance, he brushed past you, grumbling as he left the ship.
“Move it!” you called after him. “We don’t have all day!”
“I know, Cap!” he yelled back, though he picked up the pace as he disappeared down the dock. You watched him go in the dying light of day, shaking your head. “One more comment like that, Jinn, and you’ll be scrubbing bird shit off this deck for a month!”
Jinn spun to bow quickly once more before breaking into a jog, knowing full well you meant it. With a sigh, you turned back to Binni, but he was already stowing the stool and heading off below deck, tossing a salute over his shoulder.
“Inventory check. I’ll meet you down there when I’m done.”
You gave Binni a thankful smile as he ran off, leaving you to stand in the light of the sunset alone. There was a light breeze coming off the ocean across from you, and you allowed yourself a brief moment of peace, watching the sky morph from blues and whites to purples and pinks and oranges.
The smell of saltine water, the cool breeze of the summer air, the soft sway of the ship, the caw of gulls wheeling overhead. It was moments like these, moments of complete serenity, that you enjoyed the most, that made you feel completely grounded. It made you feel sentimental, reminiscing back to when you began your life as the first female pirate in all of Fatewatch. It reminded you why you began adventuring in the first place.
You stood for what felt like hours, watching the sky morph and change with each passing second. You admired the way the sun lowered itself on the horizon, bright and satisfied at the day's end, and how the clouds and warmth seemed to chase it. And although you always found the rise and fall of the large orange star in the sky beautiful, you couldn’t deny that you were aching for nightfall.
“You’ve been staring at that horizon for a long time now, Y/N.”
A slow smile spread across your face at the sound of the wooden artificial leg being dragged against the surface of the ship. A wooden door closing against its hinges a second later had you popping your eyes away from the sky to come face-to-face with the blue-haired boy from across the way.
“The Captain won’t like you skipping important meetings.” Yongbok teased with a smile. You sent him a bright grin as your arms folded across your chest.
“Hello Yongbokki.” you greeted, bumping your shoulder with his when he stopped beside you. He took a moment to gracefully lean his body against the railing behind him, a small wince flashing quickly across his freckled face. He was still getting used to living with his new leg, and you reached a hand out instinctively help support him.
“You guys made it back just in time,” he spoke as if he wasn’t in any pain at all, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was no longer looking at you, but out across the ocean at the same horizon you were moments before, you would’ve scowled at him for trying to play it off.
“I think I finally perfected those salmon steaks I’ve been struggling with for the last month.” His eyes sparkled with pride and excitement at his small victory, meanwhile, your stomach growled loudly at the mention of food. You clapped him on the back with a pleased laugh.
“Perfect timing, Yongbokki. We’ll have to set the table for everyone before the meeting starts. I have a feeling the boys will take my news better on full stomachs.”
Yongboks grin turned suspicious, one brow arched as you pushed yourself off the railing you were also leaning against and held a hand out to help him stand.
“What did you do this time, Cap?” he teased. “Sold Binni to another cathouse I presume?”
You rolled your eyes, laughing once more as you took hold of his hand and headed towards the creaky old door that led below deck. “Will you let that go? That was one time!”
Yongbok’s laughter echoed as you entered the ship, veering down to the kitchen at the end of the corridor. “One time too many, Cap. If it happens again, I’m afraid Bin will be gone for good.”
Jinn returned moments after everyone else had settled at the dining table, Jeo and Seungmo trailing behind. The three of them exchanged quiet jokes as they hastily took their seats, their faces lighting up at the sight of the meal before them.
Fish steaks, steaming and fragrant, rested on thick wooden plates that Binni had crafted weeks prior. Cutlery was arranged meticulously beside them and metal tankards were filled to the brim with ale, allowing the table to be a testament to the care Yongbokki had poured into the preparation.
You leaned back slightly, observing your crew as they dug into the meal. Despite the unease swirling in your gut, you waited, letting them savour the peace of a shared dinner table before revealing the storm on the horizon.
You watched as Jinn, ever the orderly one, gestured for Seungmo to take the breadbasket from his hands, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he said, “You’ll thank me later for making sure you’re not just eating meat, Mo.”
Seungmo rolled his eyes, tearing into a piece of bread but muttering something about ‘overbearing mother hens.’ Jeo chuckled, his fox-like eyes catching yours briefly before he focused on his plate.
You felt the weight of the news pressing against your chest as you watched them—your crew, your family. The money Foucher offered was good, almost impossibly good, but there was that nagging whisper in the back of your mind, the one that suggested it might not be enough to sway them. Especially not Jinn and Seungmo.
When most of the plates were cleared, Jeo broke the casual hum of conversation. He wiped his mouth with a serviette and leaned forward slightly, his sharp, curious eyes locking onto yours.
“So, Cap,” he began, his tone light but pointed. “What’s this meeting for?”
Binni shifted, leaning back in his chair and tossing you a quizzical look, meanwhile, Seungmo perked up, his brows drawing together.
“Oh yeah! The meeting with Foucher. How’d it go?” his voice held a genuine curiosity, though you could see he was already trying to piece together why it needed to involve all of them.
Setting your fork down, you glanced at Lino and Chan, both of whom offered small, encouraging nods. That gave you just enough courage to speak.
“The meeting with Foucher went...well.” you began carefully, letting your words hang as you measured everyone's reactions. “He’s got another job for us.”
That caught their attention. Forks paused mid-air, and a hush settled over the surrounding tables where the two and a half dozen sailors under your command sat, waiting for you to finish. Jinn tilted his head slightly, studying you with a guarded expression as he began gathering a small stack of empty plates.
“What kind of job this time?” he asked, voice calm but curious.
You hesitated for a brief moment. “He wants us to travel to Cliffpoint Hollow,” you said finally, your voice firmer now. “We’re to escort a prisoner back to him.”
The impact of your words was immediate. Jeo, mid-drink, choked and nearly sent his ale spewing across the table, causing Lino to reach over and clap his back while he spluttered about.
“Cliffpoint Hollow?” Binni straightened abruptly, his easygoing demeanour gone. His wide eyes pinned you in place at your end of the table. “Did you just say Cliffpoint Hollow?”
“I did,” you confirmed with a single nod. Silence fell over the room again for a moment before Jeo spoke up once more.
“Captain, with all due respect,” he started in a gruff tone from his choking, his fingers now toying with the handle of the metal tankard in front of him. “We’re supposed to be on break right now. Seungmo’s dying to get home to see Millie, and Jinn still has yet to even meet his kid. I don’t think any of us could take on another adventure.”
Seungmo cast a glance towards you. Though he kept his expression neutral, the flicker of disappointment on his face was unmistakable. He was usually calm and composed, but even he had his limits.
You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temple before clasping your hands together on the table before you. You watched as Chan began wiping the dirty surface with an old rag before you continued your plea.
“Look, guys, I understand.” you grimaced before meeting Seungmo’s gaze again. He was leaning against the archway to the kitchenette, waiting for whatever you were to say next. “I know we were all looking forward to this break. But Foucher offered us more money than we’ve ever seen for a single job before—and you know what that kind of coin could mean for all of us.”
“Enough for how long though?” Binni asked with a wary glance. “I mean, we risk our necks for him time and time again, and all he does is keep upping the stakes. First, it’s cargo runs, now prisoner escorts halfway across the globe?”
Yongbok nodded in agreement from where he was standing next to Seungmo with his arms folded across his chest. His usual smile was nowhere to be found. “Binni’s right. This isn’t just a supply run or a simple trade, Cap. Cliffpoint Hollow, as beautiful as it may be, is nearly six months away, and that's if the ship is sturdy enough to make it. There's no other towns and outposts across the open waters for miles. There’s nowhere to stop for resupply, and if the rumours are true, those waters are crawling with hostiles.”
Murmurs of concern spread throughout the dining room, each of your men weighing the risk in their minds, grumbling and conversing in distress. You had to raise a hand to quiet them all down once more.
“I hear you guys. Believe me, I do. Your concerns and uneasiness do not go unnoticed. But this is fifty thousand gold we’re talking about here. That’s not counting the stolen jewellery and gems Foucher’s throwing in as part of the deal.”
Jeo’s eyes widened, his initial shock giving way to an almost childlike excitement. Yongbok, too, couldn’t hide his intrigue, though he tried to mask it. Even Binni, skeptical as ever, seemed to soften at the mention of the payout.
But Jinn and Seungmo remained unmoved. Jinn crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “How do we even know he’s good for it?” he asked. “Did you see the loot, or are we just taking his word?”
“I saw it,” you said sharply, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “I wouldn’t be here asking this if I wasn’t sure.”
You didn’t need to see the loot to know Foucher had it. The loot was rightfully yours after all, though you weren’t about to admit that to your crew. You’d been keeping your past a secret from them for years, and the less they knew about it, the better.
Everyone was silent for another moment before Binni set the feet of his chair down on the wooden floorboards and leaned forward, his interest piqued.
“When does he want us to leave?” He asked. His tone was casual, but the weight of the question hung heavy. You swallowed roughly and let out an exhale
“At dawn.”
Seungmo was the first one to crack under the pressure. He surged forward in annoyance, his feet scratching loudly against the floor.
“Are you fucking mad?” His voice rang with frustration, his cheeks flushed. “Jinn and I are supposed to be home by the end of the week. Home, Cap. To our wives!” His hand hit the table with a dull thud, punctuating his words as he leaned over the table. “You promised us the summer to rest!”
You opened your mouth to respond, but Seungmo was too far gone, his emotions taking over. “We just finished a brutal job from Hawthorne, and now you want us to play delivery boys for Foucher? Do you even hear yourself?”
Your jaw tightened. The reaction wasn’t unexpected, but the raw edge in Seungmo’s voice still cut deep. The room bristled with the tension of his outburst.
“Seung, sit down,” Lino said evenly, though his voice carried an edge of warning. His gaze darted briefly to you before returning to Seungmo. Seungmo, however, ignored Lino’s demand and hit the table again with another thud.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” his laugh was bitter. “We were supposed to go home. I mean, did you even stop to consider Jinn and I? I have a wife at home waiting for me, fuck. Jinn has a wife and a newborn baby boy that he hasn’t even met yet! Are you trying to tell me we’re not allowed to go home and see them? That we have to stop our lives and do Foucher’s bidding once again?”
“Seungmo, that’s enough!” Lino growled, his eye calculating the younger male’s every move. He knew Seungmo would never outwardly hurt you, not intentionally anyway, but Seungmo’s temper was a force all its own.
You stood abruptly then, slamming your hand down on the table hard enough to rattle the few tankards that were still being used. The sound snapped the room’s attention back to you. Your blood was beginning to boil from his insinuation.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” you snapped, your voice rising with authority. “You don’t think I took any of that into consideration when Foucher offered us the deal?” you nearly snarled at him. The room fell silent once more, every pair of eyes on you as you pushed forward, your voice shaking with conviction.
“Of course, I want you two to go home and spend time with your family. I want all of us to have a break. But this isn’t just about today or tomorrow, Seungmo. This is about our future. All of ours. I want you and Yongbokki to have enough money to open the inn that you guys are always raving and ranting about in every goddamn city we stop in. I want Jinn to be able to afford a nursery for his son so the poor thing doesn’t have to room with them until he’s of age to leave home. I want Jeo to have enough money to open the orphanage he’s been planning out since he was thirteen, and I want Lino to start up the Fighter’s Guild in Eagles Bay. I want Chan and Binni to buy their own ship one day and continue on the legacy we started. I want all of us to be happy and content, and with the payout from this job, I know we can get all of that and more.”
You squeezed your hand into a fist and dug your nails into your skin, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down before finishing.
“I only want what’s best for all of you.” your voice ran with unyielding conviction, though a tremor of emotion lurked beneath the surface. You swept your gaze over the rest of your crew members once before landing back on Seungmo again. “Don’t you dare, for even a second, think I don’t put you guys first in every decision I make.”
The room fell eerily silent. The faint sound of waves lapping against the dock outside was the only movement in the air, the tension thick and palpable. Seungmo’s hard expression wavered, his eyes narrowing slightly as your words pierced through his frustration. The defiance that had lit his face moments before began to soften, replaced by the faint shine of regret.
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort.
“I-I’m sorry, Cap,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He dropped his head, the tips of his ears burning red. “I’m sorry for lashing out.” His hand moved quickly, swiping away at the corner of his eye before disappearing behind his messy brown hair.
The sight of Seungmo, the crews usually unshakable morale booster, humbled like this tugged at your chest. You leaned forward, reaching across the table to rest a hand on his shoulder. The fabric beneath your touch was worn but familiar, and you pressed your thumb into small circles, a gesture of quiet reassurance.
“It’s alright, Seung. Take a breath,” you said gently, the edge in your tone giving way to warmth. You waited as he inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself.
“I understand your frustrations, and I’m sorry for not consulting with you guys first. If you truly want to go home, if any of you do…” you paused, letting your eyes sweep across the room. “We’ll drop you off on the way out. No hard feelings. Chan will keep your share safe until we return.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than before, a quiet reckoning passing through the room. Jeo fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his wide eyes darting nervously between Seungmo and Jinn, while Yongbok began chewing on the nail of his thumb, a nervous habit he picked up years ago.
It was Binni who finally broke the tension, leaning back in his chair with his usual devilish grin. “I think I can speak for the majority of us when I say, we’re with you, Captain.” He let out a bark of laughter, his chair tilting precariously. “You’re a crazy sonofa bitch, but you’re our crazy sonofa bitch. I’m in.”
Jeo let out a breath of relief and nodded. “Me too,” he said, his voice lighter, though the faintest trace of unease lingered in his eyes.
“Aye,” Yongbok called out with glee.
You felt a swell of gratitude, but the real test lay in the two pairs of eyes that hadn’t yet confirmed their loyalty; Jinn and Seungmo. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath as attention shifted toward them.
Jinn was the first to speak, his mouth quirking into a faint smile.
“I’ve been meaning to pay a visit to Cliffpoint,” he said, his voice rumbling through the stillness. “If Ophelia finds out I had the chance to see her homeland and didn’t take it, I’d never hear the end of it.” His grin widened as he glanced around at the rest of the crew. “Besides, it’s not a true journey without all of us. Eight makes fate.”
Your heart lifted at his words, and you gave him a grateful nod before turning to Seungmo. All eyes fell on the young man, who shifted uncomfortably under their weight. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered the implications of the decision before him.
The silence stretched, almost unbearable, until Seungmo let out an exasperated huff of laughter. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” he muttered, shaking his head as a reluctant grin tugged at his mouth.
You didn’t wait for him to say more. You reached across the table, pulling him into a firm, grateful hug. His shoulders were tense for a moment before he relaxed. Letting out soft chuckles as you squeezed him.
“Oh, hush up,” you said with a laugh, releasing him and falling back in your chair with ease. “By this time next year, we’ll be the richest pirates in all of Fatewatch.”
Jinn ran a hand through his hair, leaning casually against the edge of the table. His easy smile faltered for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of concern.
“I hope you’re right about this, Cap.” he said, his voice quieter now, though it held more warmth than doubt.
You felt that same unease twist in your gut but pushed it down, forcing a confident smile onto your face.
“I’m always right,” you replied, your voice steady. But as the room began to fill with the hum of conversation and plans for the journey ahead, that gnawing feeling in your gut refused to leave.
Because deep down, you knew this wasn't just another job. It wasn't just another risk.
This was a gamble with the stakes stacked so high that one wrong move could unravel everything you worked your ass off for—and not even fifty-thousand gold could buy your way out.
Tags: @moonlightndaydreams @collisvng @frequentlykit @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @n0y4 @chuuyaobsessed @newhope8 @palindrome969 @krayzieestay @lunearta @nightmarenyxx @queen-in-the-shadows
#stray kids fic recs#skz fic recs#stray kids fic rec#skz fic rec#bang chang fic recs#bang chan fic rec#lee know fic recs#lee minho fic recs#minho fic recs#lee know fic rec#lee minho fic rec#minho fic rec#changbin fic recs#changbin fic rec#hyunjin fic recs#hyunjin fic rec#han fic recs#jisung fic recs#han jisung fic recs#han fic rec#jisung fic rec#han jisung fic rec#felix fic recs#yongbok fic recs#felix fic rec#yongbok fic rec#seungmin fic recs#seungmin fic rec#i.n. fic recs#jeongin fic recs
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Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion | EP. 6 — PIERIS NAPI
— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —
“You’re insane, Jisung, I love you so much.”
He stares at you in disbelief. His mouth falls agape.
“What… what did you just say?”
[ abstract ]: After a rough break up during semester break, you’re put in a class with none other than your longtime academic rival Han Jisung once university starts again. Things don’t get any easier considering he’s your older brother’s best friend and destiny decides to assign you two to a partner project. Luckily, you can distract yourself a little by chatting with the mysterious guy you met online a couple of months ago, getting closer both emotionally and physically with him, absolutely unaware he might be nearer than you would expect…
[ general ]: jisung + fem reader, gamer + stoner jisung, gamer reader, academic rivals/enemies → lovers, brother’s best friend, minho is reader’s slightly older brother, college au, smut + angst + fluff, accidental online dating, inexperienced jisung + inexperienced reader [ real life ] vs simp jisung + brat reader [ online ] so they act a lot differently while chatting, please refer to series m.list for more info
[ warning ]: alcohol consumption, gaslighting, slut shaming and toxic behaviour [ ex partner ], explicit sexual scene [ includes switch dynamics, consensual sex while being tipsy, semi-protected sex, hand job and fingering, hair pulling, spanking, name calling such as doll, baby, slut ]
[ words ]: 6.1K
[ note ]: Hey everyone!! Another Saturday means another chapter from your girlie. Thank you once again for the INSANE feedback. You guys are amazing, I hope you will enjoy this part. If you liked this episode too, I'd be very grateful about any kind reblog, comment, ask or DM!! Also, make sure to read The Experience Project, my other series that is part of the same universe!! Lots of love, Cece 🩷
“Good morning, baby,” Jisung says, as soon as you open your eyes. He’s lying next to you, his arm slung around your hips, pulling you towards him. You can’t believe you’ve got this dream again, it almost feels like scam, considering how often this has happened in the past weeks.
But when the man next to you scoots nearer, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, it feels so oddly… real.
“I’m not… dreaming?”
Jisung chuckles, “You’re not, doll. We fell asleep last night.”
Right. You recall it now. You came here for working on your project, got high with him and then he fucked you again and again until your legs were sore. Well, they still are.
But then another memory pops up in your head. It’s not clear, not detailed. After all, you were half-awake but you remember Jisung getting up at night and searching for some snacks. You don’t blame him and you can’t be mad at him for disturbing your sleep when he lives in this cramped studio apartment, but you noticed him staring at your phone screen.
Perhaps, he didn’t find his own and was just checking the time. No need to get worried, right?
Jisung adds another sweet little kiss on your lips, before he gets up and says, “I’m gonna make some breakfast. And by that I mean ordering something.”
You chuckle, watching him walk to the couch where his phone is located. Okay. Then he must have just checked the time and didn’t find anything weird on–
Wait. Your phone—placed on the nightstand table—lights up at that second, showing you a notification from Yuna, asking when you would get home.
And right underneath it is.
Two unread messages from your ex.
Fuck, why did you unblock him again?
[ Seojun ]: Hi, Y/N. This is probably a bad idea and I know you don’t wanna hear anything from me. But I miss you. Like a lot. I regret breaking up with you. Do you think we could try again?
[ Seojun ]: I’ll be at Yeonjun’s party next Friday. Maybe we can meet there and talk a little? I’m sure you’ve missed me too, haven’t you? ❤️
What a fucking idiot. First, that guy has the empathy level of a dining table. Second, he made you feel bad for the sexual desires you have. Third, he probably cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about. Where does he even get the audacity from to contact you?
“Is everything alright?” Jisung asks, already knowing what you must have witnessed when he sees you staring at your phone screen.
“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Just Yuna asking where I am—fuck, I totally forgot to tell her that I stayed over…”
“Did… did she know you were gonna go to my place?”
You nod, “Yeah. Told her we would work on the project.”
“And then you don’t come back,” he continues, “do you think she might have figured it–“
“No, I’m sure she didn’t.” Lily almost did, though. And you’re sure Hannah might as well. Depending on how well Chan can keep a secret. “No need to worry about anything.”
Jisung wonders why you don’t tell him about your ex texting you. He isn’t even aware if you know that the two know each other. Well, knowing is a bit far. He used to be Hyunjin’s best friend a long while ago—the three of them always hanging out together—until he destroyed their trust forever, probably making Hyunjin the way he is today. But that’s for another story.
What he does know is that Seojun doesn’t respect women. Or anyone. Probably not even himself. And Jisung wonders how he didn’t connect the dots sooner. Your ex is into inexperienced girls, that he tosses aside after taking their virginity. Just like Seojun has always done.
He dearly hopes you won’t fall for this again. Jisung prays that you will trust him and allow him to protect you in case that piece of shit tries anything.
“Y/N?”
You look up at him, “Yeah?”
But he’s too much of a coward to say what’s really on his mind. “You look beautiful.”
“You’re making me all flustered, Jisung,” you confess.
He crawls back into bed with you after he placed an order online.
“That was my plan, to be honest,” he adds, right before attaching his lips to yours.
“Is it… Soobin?” Lily asks.
Maybe ordering another round of soju was a mistake.
“I’ve already told you guys it’s not him. I would never,” you explain to them, rolling your eyes.
“Come on, he’s not as bad as Jisung,” Yuna says, nudging your shoulder.
“Y/N? Is it Jisung?” Lily questions. She almost managed to make your heart stop the other day when she proposed that same idea in the group chat.
“God, no. It’s not Jisung,” you lie.
You suddenly think back to the nights you’ve spent with him. It’s Thursday by now, but you didn’t really come home these days, only entering your apartment to grab some fresh clothes and your study supplies. Spending your days and nights at Jisung’s apartment is what you gladly signed up for—he helps you stay motivated for school, turning everything into a contest, while you either order food or cook a delicious meal together.
He’s been keeping you up at night, that’s for sure. Especially, after he found out that he’s the first one who has ever gone down on you. Jisung appreciates nothing more than having his face between your legs, making you come just from his tongue and fingers over and over again, until you’re ready for his dick.
Fucking hell. How are you supposed to focus on anything?
“But you would, wouldn’t you?” Yuna asks.
“Huh?”
“You would fuck Jisung, wouldn’t you?” your roommate repeats, a smirk on her face, as she down another shot of soju.
“Of course, she would,” Hannah interferes. “She’s been in love with him since her childhood, it’s ridiculous.”
“W-What? I’m not…”
“Remember when we got drunk a year ago and searched for our old diaries to read them out loud to each other?” your best friend asks, leaning towards you, as she throws her arm around your shoulder.
“I guess I got too drunk,” you say, sipping on your beverage.
“Nothing new,” Hannah replies. “Yeah, you mentioned Jisung there. Writing about how you fell in love with your brother’s best friend and all.”
God, this is embarrassing. But you’re too drunk to care.
“Minho would lose his mind,” Lily says, her hands placed over her mouth.
“Oh, he would. Believe me,” you confirm, rolling your eyes.
Yuna leans towards you, “Is this what’s holding you back?”
“No, she’s always said that she thinks it’s not reciprocated,” Hannah explains.
Cool, you’re totally getting exposed. But it was inevitable anyway, right? Just a matter of time.
“It totally is! Have you seen him look at you?” Lily encourages you.
“How was studying with him by the way? You were at his place, right? What is his apartment like?” Yuna asks.
“Cosy but small,” Lily suddenly says.
Jealousy erupts in your stomach and that’s exactly what your friend was anticipating with it. But you play it cool. “You’ve been at his place before?” Has something ever happened between these two?
“Chill, no need to get jealous, Y/N. He’s my dealer, duh,” Lily admits.
Oh, okay. That makes sense. Fuck. You definitely overreacted. Don’t be so suspicious.
“So… why don’t you just make a move on him at Yeonjun’s party?” Hannah suggests.
Lily throws her arms around, “Wait—speaking of party, haven’t you guys made out at Hyunjin’s party a week ago?”
“You did what?” your best friend asks, her mouth falling agape. She was already surprised about you kissing Chan—which she’s glad about was just for a bet—but you and Jisung? Shit, she should have turned this into a bet with Yuna and Lily too.
“We… we got locked inside the storage room during Truth or Dare,” you confess, avoiding eye contact with anyone at all cost.
Hannah pretends to be hurt, getting up from her seat.
“AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME? You’re calling yourself my best friend, huh?”
Everyone in the pub is looking at your friend group, so you shush her back on her seat. Lily and Yuna do their best to not accidentally flip something off the table, when they start bursting out into laughter.
“I’m… I’m sorry. Minho almost found us so I had to lie to him and… escape,” you explain.
“But… how was it?”
You sigh, “Magical.” Your face lands on your hands that are placed on the table.
“Wait another time—what’s with the guy you’re dating? Has this happened at the same time?” Yuna suddenly questions.
You don’t reply.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell us who he is, yeah? Whenever you’re ready,” Hannah says, patting your shoulder. You know that she’s figured it out judging the soft smile she gives you. You nod, smiling back. “I’m just glad to know you’re safe and happy.”
Your best friend knows. You’re pretty damn sure she knows.
“Yeah, of course, Y/N, we didn’t wanna put pressure on you. We’re just insanely happy after all the shit you’ve been through with Seojun,” Lily adds.
You gulp.
“Is everything okay?” Yuna immediately asks.
“Seojun… he… he texted me last night,” you admit. This is a safe space.
You curse yourself for not telling Jisung. But you don’t want him to get insecure. After all, you’re pretty sure he’s read those messages anyway and realised that guy named Seojun must be your ex. You feel awful, yes. You will tell him soon, you promise that to yourself because he deserves nothing but the truth.
“How? Didn’t you block him?”
“I unblocked him a month ago when I… when I finally moved on.” When I fell in love with j.0ne. “He asked me to meet at Yeonjun’s party.”
“Oh, you’re not, babe. You’re not gonna meet him,” Yuna immediately says.
“Of course, I won’t, I’m not stupid. Well, not anymore.”
Your friends start laughing along with you.
“What if he pulls some shady move on you? Threatens you? Kidnaps you?”
“Chill, Lily,” you try to calm her down. “He’s not a psycho, just a coward that can’t make women come. That’s why he goes after virgins, knowing they’re expectations are low as fuck. Including me.”
“He’s so… yikes,” Hannah adds.
“Despite that, I don’t have to worry, my boyfriend is gonna be there protecting me.”
Fuck.
Shit.
Did you really just say that out loud?
“Your boyfriend?”
Well, he is your boyfriend, isn’t he? You haven’t talked about it yet. At least not more than you discussed before. After all, you still have to figure out how to handle the whole Minho drama.
“Oh my God, she said it. He’s her boyfriend. The mysterious Discord guy is her boyfriend,” Lily cheers, clapping her hands and all the others join. The pub has gotten so crowded that no one seems to question it anyway.
“So, we will meet him on Friday?”
You sigh, “I guess so…”
“You can’t hide him any longer, Y/N,” Yuna teases you. “We need to meet him!”
“Fine.”
What the fuck have you done?
“It’s so fucking loud in here,” Lily says, screaming into your ear. Friday is finally around the corner. You’ve got a beverage chilling in one of your hands, while the other one is entangled with your friend’s hand. Lily guides you through the crowd, making sure to bring you two to a much quieter place. Well, quiet is relative here. But at least some space without the constant fear of having five different drinks downed on your outfit at once.
“Holy shit, I can’t believe Yeonjun is having such a huge party,” Yuna greets you, when she sees the two of you.
“Yeah, didn’t expect this either,” you reply.
You’re not really in the mood for this anyway. Your initial idea was to call off and stay at Jisung’s place instead, just like you’ve done for the past week. But it would have been too suspicious if both of you didn’t attend this event. Plus, your friends are waiting for you to introduce your significant other. Right.
“Where’s your prince, Y/N?” Hannah asks, when she joins you. “I’ve got a round of shots for everyone, though.” She places the little jars on the counter of the huge kitchen where you’re currently at.
“Did someone say shots?” your brother enters the room with his girlfriend next to him. Yes. They’re finally together. You’re still surprised why Felix’s roommate would voluntarily date your brother but all of us have their flaws, right?
She’s a kind girl. You’ve seen her a few times before and she seems nice. Plus, she’s got a cute style. Still, it feels kind of unfair that your brother gets to be lucky and happy while he tells you to not experience the same thing. Well, you’ve never listened to him anyway. But he doesn’t have to know that his little sister and his best friend have been meeting each other behind his back for more than just school work.
“Oh, you two are here too,” Yuna greets them.
“Yeah. Felix and Ji should be somewhere around here as well.”
Hannah’s gaze instantly connects with yours. You still haven’t talked to your best friend about this but you’re sure she must have counted two and two together by now. Hannah knows that Jisung is your boyfriend, right?
You give her a small smile for confirmation and she tries her best to hold back a giggle.
“There he is,” your brother announces, when he watches his best friend enter the kitchen. “You’re in for a round of shots, Ji?”
He looks at everyone dumbfounded, not expecting such a huge group to gather up here and certainly not you being included. “S-Sure.”
Jisung takes one of the glasses, before all of you hold your own up and down the drinks. It tastes like pure alcohol and you don’t even wanna know what Hannah prepared this time.
“Is your girl here, Han?” your brother asks and you can tell from this voice that he's already tipsy. But most of you are.
“Who?” your boyfriend says, trying to gain some time while not wanting to act suspicious.
“Bro, that girl you’ve been talking to.” Minho turns around to the group. “He’s been chatting with some mysterious woman on Discord, they met while playing Levanter and all.”
His girlfriend giggles, “She seems to be real after all. Although I’m still mad that she didn’t go camping with us. These two missed out on a lot.”
You’re trying to avoid eye contact with basically everyone. Until your roommate crosses your view. Yuna stares at you. She shoots daggers right through your skull.
Panic washes over your face and you shake your head at her, placing your index finger on your lips to tell her to shut up. She holds back a giggle but nods, letting you silently know that your secret is safe with her—especially when Minho is around.
“What are you two on about?” your brother suddenly asks, pointing at Yuna and then at you.
“Nothing,” you say, smiling.
“Just discussing what to drink next,” your roommate says and Minho believes her.
It’s a few hours into the party. Despite the drinks you’ve had, you don’t feel too much. Maybe your liver is getting used to it or the drinks are just low quality like the party itself. The music is shit, every corner of the house is occupied by couples kissing and touching each other.
Meanwhile, you’re unfortunately slowly turning into the overthinking type of drunk person. You blame it on your ex who announced to meet you here although you never accepted his offer. Therefore, you’re now trying to hide from him, running around in the building.
As if this isn’t enough, you’re still feeling bad about the fact that you haven’t told Jisung about these texts. Sure, he won’t recognise your ex since they don’t know each other—as far as you know—but it still feels like having a secret.
Finishing your current drink, you change course and decide to look for Jisung now. You’ve gotta tell him. And then maybe the two of you can get out of here. You know that he doesn’t enjoy those huge parties and crowds either and you would very much rather spend time in his bed with him, ordering takeout and watching some shitty movie.
God. You can’t believe this is your life now. It’s so domestic, all you’ve ever wanted. If you told the Y/N from a few weeks ago that she would be in a relationship with her longtime crush, she would never believe you.
Finally, you find the man in question, standing next to Felix and Changbin.
“Jisung,” you approach him. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, almost reaching for your waist to pull you closer until he remembers you’re in public. “What’s going on?”
You guide him upstairs, searching for an actual quiet spot. The first few doors that you open either lead to bathrooms, storage spaces or some already occupied bedrooms. Yeah. Until you find an empty one that isn’t much decorated. Perhaps, whoever lives here just moved in.
“Tell me, doll. What’s going on, hm?”
Jisung and you sit down on the bed while you internally apologise to the owner of the room for sitting down with your outside clothes.
“I… I haven’t told you, but I saw you looking at my phone the other day when my ex texted me,” you decide to just lay the cards on the table.
Jisung’s eyes are widening, “I’m… I’m sorry, I—seriously, I wasn’t trying to be sneaky or–“
“What? No. That’s not what I meant,” you immediately tell him. “That’s fine, really. I didn’t want to make you insecure, there isn’t anything going on between him and me, it’s just… I immediately deleted those messages—after taking screenshots, so he can’t gaslight me, and to send them to Nabi, his new girlfriend. But–“
“What are you trying to say?” he asks, his eyes searching for any hints in your face. He’s confused. He already suspected that you somehow found out and maybe didn’t tell him because you thought he was jealous. Although there’s really no need. Seojun isn’t competing with your boyfriend on any level.
“I don’t even know… I just want you to know that I’m over him. I’ve only got eyes for you,” you confess.
His gaze softens, before a smirk erupts on his face. “Is that so?” he teases you.
“Yeah, Jisung. I hope I don’t run into him…”
Your boyfriend places his hands on your hips, pulling him towards you. A little kiss appears on your forehead. “I will protect you from him, I promise.”
“He’s not dangerous, Ji. He’s just an idiot,” you explain and he starts laughing.
“Same thing, in my opinion,” Jisung replies. “Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve gotta confess something too,” he starts, already feeling his heartbeat quickening. He should have told you so much sooner.
“W-What is it?”
“I know Seojun. At least I think so, if it’s the same guy,” he admits.
“Kang Seojun?”
Oh, no. It’s him. Kang Seojun is Jisung’s and Hyunjin’s former friend and your shitty ex.
“Fucking hell, it’s really him,” he gasps.
“I… I don’t understand,” you reply, shaking your head.
“He used to be friends with Hyunjin and me… until he… until he played with the feelings of a girl that Hyunjin liked… It was back in our last year of high school, messy time and all. The girl wanted to take revenge on Seojun for using her and made a move on Hyunjin—not the nicest idea, but I understood her. However, our dear dramatic ferret stayed loyal despite falling in love with her and knowing she actually felt the same for him.”
You’ve never thought of Hyunjin as a ferret, although you see the similarities now.
“And then,” Jisung continues, “Seojun started talking shit about Hyunjin out of jealousy to every girl Hyunjin met, making him be portrayed as this fuckboy—although, sorry for the TMI, Hyune was still a virgin at that time. So, one thing led to another until our dear friend turned into exactly what people were making him ought to be.”
This is insane. So, you were just another innocent prey that he was searching for? Your stomach does an uncomfortable turn at the thought of it and you can’t even blame it on the alcohol. He’s probably the most disgusting person you’ve ever met and you suddenly feel so weird for trusting him that much back then. Hell, even believing you ever had feelings for that asshole is terrible.
At the same time, you feel bad for Hyunjin now. Sure, everyone is responsible for their own behaviour but you still feel for him if he was put in a situation like this. Hyunjin and you aren’t the closest friends, but after that talk in his bathroom last week, you realised there has to be more behind all that.
“Fucking hell. I’ve always known that guy had a soft spot,” you say about your Hyunjin.
“I don’t want to admit it, because we’re not really friends any more for different reasons, but you’re right,” Jisung agrees. You wonder what happened between them but that’s not the focus of this conversation now.
“That’s… that’s messy. But I’m not even surprised. Thank you for telling me this,” you say, smiling at him.
The room falls silent for a minute, when you place your head on his shoulder. The two of you just enjoy the moment, far away from any crowds or any Minhos and Seojuns that might destroy your little piece.
Suddenly, your boyfriend shifts in his seat.
“I’ve got something for you, a little gift,” he begins.
You look at him, “A gift?”
“Yeah, nothing out of this universe,” he jokes, knowing it’ll make sense soon. He reaches for the bag he’s brought with him, fishing a little present out of it. Jisung hands it to you.
You immediately notice how heavy it is.
“Unwrap it.”
You do as you’re told, freeing the gift from the packaging, until you’re holding a rock inside your hands.
“A star would have been too hot to grab—not as hot as you—so I got you a comet instead. Is that fine?”
He can’t be real. He can’t be for fucking real.
You gasp, turning the object around, until you see a little label attached to it with the letters Seoul National Science Museum. You won’t even question how he got that.
“Chill, it’s from the souvenir shop. I didn’t steal it.”
You feel tears pricking at your lower lash line. You’ve never expected him to actually remember this and do it.
“You’re insane, Jisung, fuck, I love you so much.”
He stares at you in disbelief. His mouth falls agape.
“What… what did you just say?”
“I’m… I’m in love with you. I said it. I love you, Han. I love you, j.0ne. I love you, Jisung. All of you.”
He kisses you passionately, almost making you drop down the comet. “I love you so fucking much too, Y/N. All of your personalities.”
You align your lips with him this time, smashing your mouth against his own.
He seriously got a star comet for you. He kept his word. This is insane. How can this man be real? And why the hell has he been hiding behind this shell for all those years, teasing and annoying you, when the two of you could have already lived your happily ever after?
It doesn’t matter. What counts is that you have each other now. And you know that Jisung and you will stick together, you and him against the world.
He keeps kissing you passionately and hungrily, as if he hasn’t been doing this for the past week. Every kiss with him feels like the first one over again, like an invitation to a new adventure that offers excitement, safety and comfort at once. Jisung slips his tongue inside your mouth, soon letting it dance with your own.
And you’ve got plans that work quite well with what he’s craving right now. You get in his lap, absolutely unapologetically, taking the lead this time. Jisung chuckles but lets you do what you want, his hands now attached to your waist. He pulls you closer, while you start grinding on him. Your boyfriend helps you find a good rhythm, feeling your panties rub over his clothed bulge.
Of course, you had to wear a skirt again. Sometimes he wonders if you do that on purpose—so that he can just pull the fabric up and fuck you whenever he pleases—but then he remembers that you’ve always dressed like this. Still, he likes the idea of it. God, he’s such a simp for you. That’ll never change.
You reach for his belt, fumbling with it, before you throw it somewhere on the floor. The zipper of his pants gets pulled down next, before you sneak your hand into his boxers. You find him hard, Jisung doesn’t even try to hide it, when you start stroking him.
“In here? In a stranger’s bedroom? You’re naughty, doll…” he tells you in between kisses.
“It’s one of my fantasies, not gonna lie,” you admit.
You free his dick from the pieces of clothing, as you continue pumping him. A string of saliva collides with his tip, before you use your thumb to smear it over his cockhead first and then over his full length.
“You’re gonna surprise me every day, baby,” he whimpers.
“Reminds me of the storage room situation but it’s an actual room this time. Whoever owns that one,” you chuckle.
Jisung slips his hand under your skirt, while you’re busy pleasuring him. He wants to give back the feeling you're granting him, which is why he slides your drenched panties aside. You’re so wet for him, he’s afraid he might just come undone before he’s been inside of you.
The two of you totally forgot to lock the door but with the state you’re in right now, none of you will remember that anytime soon. Hopefully, no one will barge in.
Jisung has two digits in your cunt, scissoring you open to prepare you for his dick. You’re moving up and down, fucking yourself on his fingers, while he uses his thumb to rub smooth circles on your clit.
“I need to fuck you, Ji,” you confess, biting your lower lip. He looks so fucked out but you’re sure you’re nothing better. Messy hair, smudged makeup, your shirt pulled down to expose your tits to him so he can play with one of them while his other fingers are busy stretching you out. “This isn’t enough, baby.”
He’s already hovering you closer, so you can align your entrance with his cock, until he remembers an important detail.
“Wait… I don’t have a condom with me. But I’m fine doing other things.” You’re not surprised. Although you do in fact need more.
“I haven’t told you yet, but I’ve been on the pill this whole time… so, I’m okay if we don’t use one,” you admit. Because you feel safe with him. You’ve never had sex without a condom before—although Seojun constantly complained, telling you, he didn’t feel as much while wearing one—but you trust Jisung so much.
“Woah… okay. Yeah, I’m alright with not using one too, then. It’s gonna make a mess, though,” he reminds you.
You chuckle, “Well, you can just come inside my mouth or my cunt, Ji.”
“How on earth are you real? You’re gonna make me blow too soon, baby,” he whines. There he’s back. That’s j.0ne talking to you.
You decide to shut him up with a kiss, while you align your hole with his tip. You slowly sink down, taking him in. Jisung is filling you up so well, it feels like being close to him for the first time over again.
“You’re so fucking wet for me, doll. Your pussy is swallowing me, fuck—feels so good,” he whispers, when he listens to the squelching sounds that are echoing through the stranger’s bedroom.
“Do you hear this? Can you hear how wet you are for me? How much of a slut you are for me and only me?” he asks, thrusting up into you from below, once again doing most of the work.
He feels you clenching around him, but you decide to rile him up further, “Jisung, stop teasing and go harder.”
“Always so fucking demanding.” Slap. His hand collides with your ass cheek. You’re both still fully dressed. Jisung has his pants and underwear slightly pushed down, while your panties are just pulled to the side. “You want me to go rougher on you, hm? Fuck you like a slut?”
“I bet you’re too gentle to me anyway,” you say, clicking your tongue, as you keep riding him.
The grip on your hips tightens, before Jisung lifts you up and suddenly pulls out of you. He spins you around, manhandling you until you land on your stomach.
“You’re so gonna regret this, doll,” he warns you with a chuckle. Before he slams right into you again.
Moans, whimpers and whines are filling the room, as he is pounding his length into you. From time to time, he adds another slap to your sensitive flesh, before he grabs you by the hair and pulls you towards him.
“Hm, still want me to go harder?” he whispers into your ear.
“Still not convinced, stop talking so much and make me come—oh, fuck, right there,” you let out, when he changes the angle a bit.
“Yeah, that’s it. Always complaining. This greedy pussy never gets enough, hm? I’ve been fucking you every night this whole week and you’re still asking for more?”
Jisung brings his other hand between your legs, while two of his fingers are now busy playing with your clit. He’s driving you closer and closer to the edge, making you forget about everything else. He feels so perfect inside you, as if this is meant to be. And you know that it is.
A minute later, you come around his cock, when your walls tighten around him, sucking him in even further.
“Just like that, doll. You’re so good for me,” he praises you, helping you through your climax.
Jisung keeps rutting into your aching hole, while he senses himself getting sloppier with his movement. His high is close. Dangerously close.
“I want you to come inside, Jisung,” you confess.
And that’s what he does. His seeds fill you up a second later, warm ropes of come hitting your walls, while he keeps moaning and whimpering into your ear. You encourage him with sweet little praises, until Jisung comes down from his high again.
The two of you stay like this for a little while, his cock still buried inside of you.
Until the door swings open.
“What the fuck are you doing inside my bedroom?”
Your ex is standing in front of you, seeing you on all fours, while his former friend is inside of you.
It’s Seojun’s room. Jisung is fucking you in Seojun’s bedroom. You didn’t even know he moved into this frat house.
Well, that’s a whole new level of revenge.
Your boyfriend pulls out of you, helping you adjust your panties and the skirt you’re wearing, before he stuffs his dick back into his pants. All while he tries to not laugh out loud. Jisung’s come immediately trickles down into the fabric of your lingerie, making things a little uncomfortable. Still, you have to focus on a very furious ex boyfriend first.
“Sorry, mate, we didn’t know this was your bedroom. Just used whatever’s free,” Jisung says, shrugging his shoulders. You like this new version of him—acting all nonchalant to make Seojun mad.
“You’re… you two, huh?” your ex asks, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
You get up, standing next to Jisung now. “What?” you ask.
Seojun walks closer, faux puppy eyes looking at you, “I thought… I thought we could work things out and start over again.” Until his tone switches. “But I guess you’ve been a whore all along.”
“What the fuck did you just say?” Jisung spits, pulling you closer, until he’s standing in front of you.
“Come on, dude. Don’t act innocent now. You probably know about the weird stuff she’s into.” He makes it sound as if you expect your partners to do hardcore BDSM with you when it’s just… a few probably very common kinks.
“Weird stuff like… actually having an orgasm during sex?” Jisung asks.
Oh, fuck. What a mic-drop worthy moment. You burst out into laughter.
“I… what are you on about? You know what—no. I will not talk about this with you. What I will talk about is that Y/N cheated on me with you.”
You can’t believe he actually thinks that.”
“What? I didn’t cheat on you, idiot. You cheated on me with Nabi, you piece of shit,” you tell him, your voice getting louder by a few decibels.
“Baby… Nabi and I aren’t anything… I promise,” Seojun continues, switching to being all cute again. Or pretending to do so. He looks like a total fool.
You chuckle, “Shit, are you gaslighting yourself like this too?”
“Baby… come on,” he says, reaching for your arm, totally ignoring the man beside you.
“Don’t touch my girlfriend,” Jisung says, slapping Seojun’s arm away.
Your ex looks at him dumbfounded, suddenly ignoring you again when the words register in his head. “Your… your girlfriend?”
“Yeah. Y/N is my girlfriend. I love her,” he says, letting butterflies roam around in your stomach,
Seojun bursts out into a fake laughter. “Aren’t you also her older brother’s best friend? What does he say about that? Hasn’t he always been so protective that Y/N couldn’t even admit to him that she dated me?”
None of you two say anything.
“Oh,” Seojun continues, “he doesn’t know. Minho doesn’t know, hm? Well, then I’ll have him find out.”
“Seojun—wait, please don’t tell him,” you immediately say, wrapping your hand around your ex’s wrist and stopping him in his tracks.
He scoffs, “Why would I listen to you?”
“I’m…”
“You owe her that one,” Jisung says, still standing close to you.
“I don’t fucking owe her anything. I don’t owe you anything either,” Seojun replies.
“Stop talking about her as if she isn’t in the room,” Jisung lets out. He doesn’t like the atmosphere your ex creates. Or, well, he doesn’t like him in general.
“Or what? You’re gonna hit me, huh?”
Jisung lets go of you, getting closer to your ex. His hands ball into fists, as he approaches the other man.
But you pull him back. “Ji… don’t… don’t get in trouble because of this idiot.”
Your ex sprints out of the room then, immediately running down the stairs like a coward that’s escaping you. You two follow him through the crowd but immediately lose him. Just when you make it to the centre of the party, you observe Seojun almost pushing the DJ off the stage before he turns off the music and grabs the mic.
Everyone is growling and complaining. What a surprise.
“I’ve got an announcement to make, everyone.” Seojun is laughing like a maniac, fury in his eyes. “Han Jisung just fucked Y/L/N Y/N in my bedroom.”
Everyone is immediately booing him off the stage. Did he really think he would achieve something with this?
This is so fucking embarrassing.
You listen to the responses of the other guests.
“Shut the fuck up, dude. Turn on the music again.”
“Jesus Christ, are we in middle school?”
“No one cares, you idiot.”
“That’s great! Congrats!”
“Does this mean we’ll get more drinks?”
“Can you put the music back on?”
No one cares indeed. Or, perhaps, it was predictable anyway. At least that’s what you believe when you see Hannah across the room and she gives you a thumbs up. Yuna is next to her, with a smile all over her face. Next, you watch Chan and Felix looking your way, applauding. Even Lily—severely drunk—is staring at you, tears in her eyes, total happiness washing over her.
Until you feel someone else’s presence beside you. A hand is pushing you away from your boyfriend, standing between the both of you now.
You turn towards the man, finding your brother.
“You're in fucking big trouble, Jisung,” he says.
© leeknowsallyoursecrets 2024 — copying, stealing or translating my work is prohibited
#han smut#jisung smut#han jisung smut#stray kids fic recs#skz fic recs#stray kids fic rec#skz fic rec#han fic recs#jisung fic recs#han jisung fic recs#han fic rec#jisung fic rec#han jisung fic rec#stray kids smut#skz smut
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Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion | EP. 5 — GRETA OTO
— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —
“I’ll do anything, Y/N. Whatever it takes for us to be together, okay? Do you trust me?”
You nod, “I trust you, Jisung.”
[ abstract ]: After a rough break up during semester break, you’re put in a class with none other than your longtime academic rival Han Jisung once university starts again. Things don’t get any easier considering he’s your older brother’s best friend and destiny decides to assign you two to a partner project. Luckily, you can distract yourself a little by chatting with the mysterious guy you met online a couple of months ago, getting closer both emotionally and physically with him, absolutely unaware he might be nearer than you would expect…
[ general ]: jisung + fem reader, gamer + stoner jisung, gamer reader, academic rivals/enemies → lovers, brother’s best friend, minho is reader’s slightly older brother, college au, smut + angst + fluff, accidental online dating, inexperienced jisung + inexperienced reader [ real life ] vs simp jisung + brat reader [ online ] so they act a lot differently while chatting, please refer to series m.list for more info
[ warning ]: anxiety attack, recreational weed consumption, explicit sexual scene [ includes switch dynamics, consensual sex under the influence (both are high), protected sex oral (m receiving), hair pulling, name calling such as doll, baby, pretty boy, ma'am, slut ],
[ words ]: 6.8K
[ note ]: Hellooo I am back with another chapter. Sorry for the cliffhanger lmao it'll make sense now once you read this part. Also, to get rid of any confusion: this story (like all of my fics) will have a happy ending :) If you liked this episode too, I'd be very grateful about any kind reblog, comment, ask or DM!! Also, make sure to read The Experience Project, my other series that is part of the same universe!! Lots of love, Cece 🩷
Your lungs are burning inside your chest from running around the hotel hallway, without a destination, really. You’re aware of Jisung being somewhere behind you, trying to stop you and calm you down but rationality has left your body fully.
You’re in trance, that’s what it always does to you when all those pent up feelings bubble up like a volcano and you can’t hold them back anymore. Setting one foot on the ground before the other one follows, you sprint to the elevator, pushing the button to go down. You’ve got your bag thrown over your shoulder and your phone in your hand.
Once the elevator is finally here, you immediately rush inside and send a quick text to Chan.
[ You ]: Please pick me up from the hotel. I need to go home. I can't do this.
[ You ]: 📍 (your location, visible for 1 hour)
Why is the elevator not going down? You keep smashing the button to the first floor, until you notice someone coming inside.
“Y/N,” Jisung says, tears filling his vision, “it’s okay, you’re safe with me, okay?”
You see it in his eyes—the same type of comfort that j.0ne has been giving you for two months now and that’s when your brain makes that connection again. It’s him. He’s the one who protects you, who you tell all your secrets to.
You’re safe with him.
Jisung catches you right before you fall down on the floor, as your knees give out. Tears start rushing down your face, but he holds you close.
“It’s okay, love, let it all out,” he speaks soothing words, while gently stroking your hair. He smells like peppermint, which calms you down further although you don’t question why it’s like this in the first place. “It’s all fine, you’re not in danger, okay?”
You nod, sniffles filling the metallic walls that are around you. You’re glad that you chose an elevator that no other guest seems to use at this time of the night.
“What do you need now, Y/N?”
Jisung brushes some strands of your hair out of your face, before he swipes away the tears with his thumb. All you do is shrug your shoulders, before the crying takes over you again.
“Hey, hey,” he says, trying to not panic too, “are you okay with going back to our room? Or should I call Hannah? Yuna? Perhaps Lily?”
You shake your head no. You don’t wanna drag them into this, it’s bad enough that you texted Chan. “I… I don’t know what’s happening, Han.”
He keeps rubbing circles on your head, “You’re having an anxiety attack. But this isn’t real, okay? You’re not in danger.”
You nod this time, “Can you help me get up?”
“Of course,” Jisung says before he does what you asked him for.
“Can we…” you start, before you clear your throat, “get back to the room? So I can wash my face?”
Jisung nods and guides the way, throwing an arm around your shoulder to bring you back where you came from. The fresh and cold water helps you a lot and when you get back into the bedroom, Jisung is sitting on the couch, worry in his eyes.
“So, what’s on your mind, Y/N?” he says, once you’ve gotten closer and take a seat right next to him. He leaves enough space between the two of you but never takes his eyes off you.
“I’m… I’m just scared, I guess. I got overwhelmed.”
He nods, “Yeah, anxiety can be a tough one. Please be honest with me—was it anything I said or did? Was it caused by… uhm… something during sex?”
You tilt your head, “I’m not sure. I liked everything, that’s not it! In fact, I enjoyed this like nothing else before. You’re… wow.”
Jisung can’t hide the smirk that’s forming on his face. After all, he didn’t expect a compliment like this right now. “How’s it connected then?”
You let your head sink down, “I don’t know. Maybe… it’s because of everything with my ex. You’re the first one I’ve slept with after the relationship and… it reminded me of how I didn’t feel comfortable with him but feel absolutely comfortable with you now and—fuck, this doesn’t make any sense…”
Jisung keeps looking at you, “It makes total sense, doll. Your brain is confused because it only knows the other state to be in and got overwhelmed by a normal situation, a situation in which you felt comfortable and safe. At least I hope so.”
“I do, I do!”
“You know,” he continues, “that’s why I prepared that bath for you and all. So you can calm down and get back into reality after such a… uhm, session.” Jisung awkwardly scratches the back of his head.
“Oh, okay. I was just overwhelmed because… well, you were planning this date and all because you, j.0ne, like baby_butt3rfly and I suddenly got insecure because I wasn’t the one you were waiting for. It must have been a disappointment to find out you’ve been chatting with me all this time when you don’t even like me,” you explain.
His eyebrows are scrunched, while he throws his arms around. He can’t believe this and he wonders where these insecurities are coming from in the first place, dearly hoping he hasn’t caused them with all the bickering over these past years, “Sure, I don’t like you but I fuck you. That makes no sense.”
“Hate sex exists,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders.
Jisung’s jaw clenches, before he scoots a bit closer. You gulp and try to stay calm when he looks at you like this. “Do you consider what we did hate sex?”
“No… still, you don’t necessarily like me, Han. Everyone knows that,” you add with an awkward chuckle at the end. Why isn’t he grasping what you’re trying to explain here?
He sighs, letting his head fall down. Jisung hasn’t expected to confess to you about all his feelings tonight but if it’s the only way to clear the air and get rid of this weird misunderstanding between you, that’s what he’ll have to do.
“Y/N, listen. You’ve got this all wrong. The truth Is that I–“
Your phone suddenly starts ringing. Fuck. You totally forgot that you asked for help.
“Who’s it?” Jisung asks.
You catch a glimpse at the screen. “Chan. Shit. I hysterically texted him and told him to pick me up.”
“Fuck, then he will probably not give up too soon,” Jisung says, biting his lower lip.
“Should I… should I pick up?”
“Yeah, of course,” he tells you. He doesn’t want your shared friend to get worried, especially not because of him.
You pick up and clear your throat, before you start to speak, hoping to not sound too different, “Hey, Channie. You don’t have to worry, everything is fine again.”
“Are you with him right now?”
Oh, fuck. He’s pissed. You put your phone on speaker.
“Who?”
“The guy you were meeting up with I suppose,” Chan adds.
“Yes… he’s with me. It was nothing, really. I’m safe,” you reassure.
“I wanna talk to him.”
Jisung’s eyes are widening and so are yours.
“What?!”
“You heard me,” Chan insists. “Give him the phone. Otherwise I’ll come pick you up. I’m already in my car and just a few minutes away.”
“O-Okay,” you say, before giving the device to Jisung.
“Hello? Do you hear me?”
Jisung keeps staring at you, fear spreading all over his face. “Y-Yeah, uhm, hi. What is it?”
“What the fuck did you– wait, speak again. I wanna hear your voice,” Chan says. But Jisung is too scared to say anything. Of course, his friend would recognise him. “I’m waiting.” He looks at you, worry in his eyes but you nod in order to encourage him. “Come on, dude.”
“Hi…” is all he says and it’s enough for the older one to put two and two together.
“Hmm, Jisung. Nice to listen to your voice,” he chuckles.
“Hey, Chan,” the younger one says, rolling his eyes.
“So, you’re with Y/N? You’re her date?”
“Y-Yes, I am,” he replies.
“I can trust you, right? Can you tell me what happened?”
He doesn’t even question the fact that you’re spending time with Jisung. That’s a good thing at least.
“She… Y/N had an anxiety attack, unrelated to me, she told me. She’s better now, I promise. She’s safe with me,” he explains.
“Okay, is there anything else I can do to help? Or need to know?”
“I don’t think so…”
You can hear Chan chuckle through the speaker. “Okay. So, you two, huh?”
“Yup. Turns out we were chatting with each other this whole time,” he tells the truth now. It’s out anyway.
“You’re such idiots. And I told her to not meet that guy so you can get together with her instead, playing Cupid and shit,” Chan confesses and you two burst out into laughter. This is hilarious.
“Well, your magic worked, I guess,” you say.
“Jisung? You’ll take care of her, okay? Or else I’ll break your nose, you hear me?”
You hold back another giggle, wishing your brother would react the same way like Chan does when you tell him about this thing between his best friend and you.
“Of course, boss. Have a nice night,” Jisung promises.
“You too,” the other one says before ending the call.
“I’m gonna get ready for bed, if that’s alright,” you announce.
“Yeah, sure,” Jisung says.
Once you’re in the bathroom, you feel a little more at ease again, realising it was the right decision to not run away from your emotions. The shower you take helps you calm down a little further and when you’re done with your skin care routine and brushing your teeth, you enter the bedroom again.
“Hi,” you say, finding Jisung snuggled up under the covers.
“Is it okay to sleep in one bed with me?” he wants to make sure.
You nod, a smile on your face. You get under the blanket too and Jisung stands up, needing a few minutes in the bathroom as well. But when he’s back, he wastes no time to get into bed again. You’re looking at each other, both of you unable to speak first, until Jisung takes the initiative.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yeah?”
He guides his hand towards your face, the back of it softly brushing your cheek.
“All this time, I was hoping for it to be you,” he confesses.
“W-What?”
You can’t believe this.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed… I’ve had a crush on you for years, Y/N,” he admits, his lower lip caught between his teeth.
“But… you kept ignoring me or teased me whenever you had a chance,” you say, shaking your head.
“Yeah, for several reasons,” he starts explaining. “You’re still my rival in school, that won’t ever change, baby. But then, I’ve realised I can’t be with my best friend’s sister and that’s why I’ve started distancing myself. Whenever I saw you, though, I got mad at myself and took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
“You… you like me?” you ask again, hastily blinking while your brain tries to grasp what’s happening right now.
“Of course I like my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend. He called you his girlfriend. Han Jisung considers you his girlfriend and not his rival anymore. Wow, what an enemies to lovers cliche.
“Han—wait, no. I know that you told everyone that you have a girlfriend because I, or well baby_butt3rfly said that she wants you to become her boyfriend. But… I’m not her,” you remind him.
He scoffs, “You literally are.”
“Still, we can’t be together,” you add, breaking his heart a little.
“Because of Minho?”
You nod.
“I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N. To gain more of your trust, to give you everything you deserve, okay? I’ll get a fucking star from the sky and give it to you as a gift or whatever you want, just for a chance,” he promises, scooting closer and you let him.
“Where’s all this coming from?”
“Do you not feel the same? Did you only fall in love with j.0ne but not me?”
You sigh, rolling on your back before you cover your face with the palms of your hands. Suddenly, you turn back around, staring at him, “Fuck this, okay? Yes, I like you too, Han. Are you satisfied now?”
“I’m the happiest man on this planet, baby,” he grins.
“How do we do this?”
“What?”
“Whatever this is between us,” you say. Jisung is fine with you not being ready to label this as an official relationship and he’ll wait for you.
“Are you talking about your brother and the shit he says?”
You nod, “Yeah, but not just that. I’m still… damaged from my ex.”
There’s pain in his eyes. Not pity, but empathy. He can’t believe that this guy destroyed your confidence like this when he was in the wrong, just to get together with the girl he told you not to worry about.
“You’re not damaged, Y/N,” Jisung reminds you, as he keeps stroking your face. “He did damage to you, there’s a difference. And I’m patient, okay?”
“Even if it takes me weeks or even months to fully open up to you?” you ask him with big eyes.
“I would wait centuries, well, I’ve had a crush on you for over a decade now, so this seems fairly fast,” he admits.
“Shit, a decade? Me too.”
Jisung places a soft kiss on your forehead. “Maybe it was the stars waiting for the right moment so we can be together.”
“You’re so cheesy…” you snicker.
“Hm, I am.” He adds another kiss on your cheek. “Should we get some rest?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
When you enter your apartment the following day, Yuna is dancing around in the kitchen, already awaiting you.
“Y/N,” she greets you, “tell me everything. You went on a date, right? How was it?”
Where the hell does she get this information from? Well, it’s true, but you haven’t told anyone about it.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, you dressed up all prettily last night and then you went out with a backpack. You met at his place or at a hotel?”
“I’m… uhm…”
Your phone dings, showing a notification from your group chat with your closest friends.
[ Hannah ]: So, Y/N. How was it? How was he? 🤪
[ Lily ]: Did he make you come?? 😏
[ Yuna ]: We need to know everything Y/N 😫😫😫
Of course, your roommate would hop onto this.
[ You ]: What are you guys talking about?
Hopefully they will just drop it but you’re very much aware that this won’t happen any time soon.
[ Lily ]: Don’t tease us. We’re aware you went on a date and stayed the night. Tell us everything please!! 😭🥹🫶🏻
Ah, so Yuna shared her suspicions with everyone. When you tilt your head and look at her, she stares at you with big puppy eyes and mouths a ‘sorry’. You roll your eyes but chuckle anyway. You could never be mad at her or any of your other friends. After all, you know that they’re just excited for you to make some great experience and move on.
[ Hannah ]: Yes, was he good? Was he gentle with you? Paid for everything and bought flowers? 💐
[ Yuna ]: He did buy flowers, guys. Y/N is standing next to me with a huge bouquet in her hands. 😌😌
Your roommate is working against you. Yuna blows a kiss in your direction, before she starts making an iced coffee for you to make up for all the drama. Her phone is placed right next to her, so she can continue reading what is going on in the chat.
[ You ]: It was great tbh 😭 he was amazing in bed and he’s so… perfect, we talked a lot about everything and he makes me feel very safe
[ Hannah ]: That’s great!! Where did you meet again?? 🥹
[ You ]: Online, Discord. Playing video games.
[ Lily ]: Maybe I should start playing this Levanter game too that’s so hyped 🤔
[ Hannah ]: Y/N I’m so happy for you, you deserve all this and the world 😭🫶🏻
[ Lily ]: Will you send us a picture of him?? What does he look like? 😌
Fuck. You almost drop your phone on the kitchen tiles.
[ You ]: Maybe some other time.
Hopefully this will do for now.
[ Hannah ]: Oh, so he’s ugly? I knew something had to be wrong here. 🤨
[ You ]: He’s not ugly… I’ll send one later, okay?
[ Lily ]: I bet it’s someone we know and that’s why she’s so shy about it. 🤪
Your roommate has finished the iced coffee, handing it to you, before she is ready to type again.
[ Yuna ]: Do we know him??
[ You ]: No…
[ Lily ]: I bet it’s Yeonjun 😏
[ Yuna ]: Yeonjun doesn’t play video games
[ Hannah ]: Felix! I bet it’s Felix!! 😌😌
[ Lily ]: Soobin?? He’s a full nerd. 🤓
[ You]: It’s none of them and certainly not Soobin.
[ You:] I have to go now. Need to get this project with Jisung done 🙄🙄
[ Hannah ]: Oh, good luck.
[ Lily ]: Imagine it’s Jisung LMAO 🤣🤣
[ You ]: Funny.
[ Lily ]: I’m sorry, I was joking, I know you would never do that lol 💀
You put your phone away, before you head to your room to get ready for studying with Jisung. Right. Hopefully you’ll be able to get school stuff done, now that your relationship has reached a new level.
Your heart is pounding out of your chest, when you walk up the stairs of Jisung’s apartment. You’ve never been here but you two decided to get some of your project done at his place instead of the library—for obvious reasons but also because it’s usually cramped there on a Sunday and you didn’t manage to book a free study room on time. So, rationally, there was no other choice, right?
“Hi,” he greets you with the widest grin when he opens the door.
“Hey,” you say, handing him a plastic bag of what you bought at the convenience store. Jisung hasn’t expected you to bring anything but he’s grateful about it.
“It’s just some snacks and lemonade, to make studying more bearable, you know?”
He nods and invites you inside. After taking off your shoes, your eyes start hovering around in his studio apartment. It’s small but cosy, just like you would have imagined it. Jisung has got some high quality posters of the Levanter video game on his walls as well as some other ones. One of the characters he’s framed is the one you tend to choose when playing and it makes you giggle. Perhaps, you should dress up as your favourite characters one day together.
You plop down on the couch beside him, a few of your snacks and whatever he still has had at home already scattered out on the table.
“So, what do we have?”
“We could finish the theory part today, if we work hard,” you suggest.
Jisung nods, “Yeah, I did some more research and found some interesting perspectives about the topic.”
You manage to work on your project for a solid two hours with small breaks in between, focusing on the tasks you have to do until the next class in a few days. Until said focus leaves your bodies and makes concentrating quite hard.
“Are you hungry?” he suddenly asks.
For you, yes.
“Hm?”
Jisung gets up, grabbing two more cans of lemonade. “Let’s order some food, okay?” He sits down next to you again, before takes a closer look at your face. “You’re stressed, aren’t you?”
You tend to overwork yourself, this is no news for either you or Jisung. But taking a break is probably a good idea.
“A bit, yes. I just want a good grade on this,” you admit.
“And you’ll get that, Y/N. I’ll make sure of it,” he promises, adding a wink after his sentence. You try to hide how flustered you get. It’s very common for the two of you to compete in academic matters. It started in school and when you both decided to major in the same subjects at the same college, everything went downhill. Whenever there’s a debate in class, Jisung will make sure to choose whatever opposite point of view from yours, just to fight against you.
It makes you chuckle, now that you know that he must have done this most of the time because he wanted to get your attention without being suspicious. And because he’s a huge brat.
“What do you usually do to get rid of stress, Han?” you ask him, opting to have a break now too.
He shrugs his shoulders, taking a sip from the cherry lemonade, “Uhm, play games, smoke weed, well, uhm, look at pics you sent me and jerk off.”
You chuckle, “Wow, I wasn’t aware you’re recycling them and using them more than once.”
“Such beauty should be hung up in the Louvre, baby. Only for my eyes to see though,” he tells you, placing his hand on his chest.
“I’ve never smoked weed before,” you confess. You’re curious what it would feel like, though.
“Oh, you wanna try?”
“Yeah, sure,” you say. “You’re an expert in this, aren’t you?”
“I guess. Wait a second, okay?”
Jisung comes back with a little plastic zip bag and papers, before he sits down next to you again. You start watching him unpack all the supplies, as he is preparing a joint for the two of you now. You’re not fully grasping what it is and you're certainly not someone who romanticises drugs in any way, but there’s something about him doing this forbidden thing that arouses you. You keep your eyes focused on his hands, admiring those pretty fingers and getting reminded how they felt inside of you, stretching you out so–
“You ready, doll?”
His voice dropped low, sounding so husky, you’re not sure if you’re gonna survive this evening.
“Y-Yes,” you say.
“Only if you truly want this, okay? You can always back out. I won’t let you have much anyway, since it’s your first time, alright?”
You nod, “Okay.”
Jisung places the joint between his lips, before he reaches for the lighter that’s placed on the table in front of you and the little fire connects with the tip of the now burning object. He takes a drag, holds it like this in his lungs before he breathes out again, smoke filling the apartment.
He hands you the joint and you reach for it. Sure, you’ve smoked cigarettes before at parties, so hopefully you won’t make a total fool out of yourself. You take a drag, getting used to the taste of it, before you let out the smoke again and give him back the joint.
Jisung takes another drag and you’re eager to have an additional one too, but he doesn’t allow it, “Give it some time, okay? You shouldn’t overestimate yourself, yeah?”
You nod, leaning back on the couch.
“I’ll order some food in the meantime. What would you like?”
“Uhm,” you start, “pizza?”
“Sure,” he says, before fishing out his phone and placing an order online. “Should be here in an hour or less.” Jisung lives in an outer part of the city. Combined with the cheap apartment he has, you wonder how he paid for the expensive hotel room last night. Suddenly, you feel bad about it although it was his idea and he invited you.
“Han?”
“Yeah, baby?” he asks, taking another drag.
“You… I’m not sure if this is rude to ask, I just don’t want to be a burden but… why did you choose that expensive hotel? It’s… it was wonderful, really, but I don’t want you to spend so much–“
“It’s fine, doll,” he chuckles, “I know I don’t have the most spacious place in the most pretty area of the city, but that’s just because I don’t need it. I like to save up the money I earn for important things and the future, you know?”
Okay, that makes sense.
Wait.
He considers you important enough to spend his savings on you.
“Oh, okay. So… I’m not a burden?”
“Baby, you’re a blessing in every aspect of my life,” he says, clicking his tongue.
“When have you gotten like this?”
“Like what?”
“Flirting with me… and all,” you say, becoming shy now.
“I don’t know,” Jisung replies. “Being with you and finally opening up has helped a bit.”
You giggle, “Makes sense.”
“Are you already feeling something?”
You shake your head no, “Not really.”
“Here,” he gives you the joint. You place it between your lips again and Jisung can feel excitement rush down to his dick, when he watches you. It’s twisted and he doesn’t want to romanticise what you two are doing right now, but it gives him the idea of corrupting you in a new way.
You take another drag before you give him back the burning object. The two of you stay like this for a while, until Jisung finishes smoking and puts out the joint. He scoots closer to you, not even hiding the fact that he wants to be near you. You end up cuddling, while he puts on some show on his TV but you’re not even paying any attention. Partly, it’s caused by your head clouding up from the smoke in the room and in your lungs but it might also be because of Jisung. Well, it obviously is because of the latter mostly.
“Have you ever fucked while being high?” Great. Your brain to mouth filter has shut off by now, too. The weed seems to work.
“N-No, I haven’t, actually,” Jisung admits. Fuck. There’s something about you being so straightforward that makes him want to try it, though.
“But you smoke a lot, don’t you? I would have expected this to be your thing,” you say, only realising after speaking how mean that sounded. Jisung is a stoner, yes, but he does have got his life together. It’s not his number one personality trait. That’s already reserved for being a brat.
“I didn’t suggest getting high so you’d sleep with me, Y/N,” he suddenly says.
Your eyes are widening, “Oh my God, this is not what I meant, sorry… I was just… I thought that…”
“Hm, you’re not thinking much right now, doll. I’ve been noticing you staring at my hands,” he teases you.
“I– I’m…”
“It’s okay, baby. And to answer your question—I haven’t had sex while being high yet because I haven’t had sex that much in my life in general,” Jisung admits.
“Oh… did you lose your virginity to me?! This can’t be, you were so…”
“So, what?”
“Perfect. If you were a Sim, you would have reached Woohoo skill level 10.”
“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs.
You’re too cringey for Han Jisung now? Wow, the weed has really gotten to your head then.
“Sorry,” you chuckle.
“No, I didn’t lose my virginity to you. I’ve had like three one night stands in my life before you that were all shit. That’s it,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders.
“Oh, I'm sorry. You were my second, by the way,” you confess.
“You only… only with your ex?”
“Hm, and you. So it’s easy to forget about whatever was before that when you’re this good,” you compliment him. Jisung throws his head back, sensing the feeling caused by smoking. Or it’s because you keep staring at him like this. So awaiting. Demanding. Aroused.
“What’s on your mind?” you ask.
He shakes his head, bringing his index finger to your lips, “Shh, you’re stressing me again.”
“Stressing you? What? Why?”
Is the weed not working for him? His eyes are so red, you thought he would be as high as you by now.
“With that pretty smile… you rarely smile, Y/N. So when you do it exclusively for me, it gets my hopes up high,” he explains, not taking his eyes off your mouth. His thumb keeps brushing over it and you part your lips.
“Your hopes up high?”
“Hm, for us to do this in public one day.” He kisses you on the cheek. “For me being able to call you my girlfriend… baby, tell me, what does it need for me to be able to do that?”
You look at him. “Weren’t you the one to make promises last night?”
“What are you referring to?”
“You mentioned things like gaining my trust, finding a solution for Minho and giving me a star as a gift,” you remind him.
“I’ll do all of that. I promise,” he says. “Can I kiss you?”
“Do it,” you let out.
His lips crash into your own and you immediately sense how desperate he is for you. What a great thing you’re reciprocating those feelings. Jisung’s tongue asks for entrance and you allow him just that. You smirk against him, your hands reaching for his neck. You throw your arms around, fingers starting to play with his hair.
“Fuck,” he grunts, “you’re so needy, aren’t you?”
“Same counts for you,” you whisper, in between breaths. You decide to take the lead then, when you scoot closer and hover your body in his lap. Jisung looks at you with his mouth agape, big eyes staring at you, as if he didn’t expect you to be so straightforward.
“Getting shy, hm?”
He shakes his head no, “G-Go on.”
“I like this version of you, you know?”
“Which version?”
“The desperate one. The one that will do anything I tell him,” you say, beginning to create a path of kisses down his neck, before you reach his chest. Slipping your hands under his shirt, you help him out of the fabric. Everything is happening rather fast but you don’t mind.
You scoot down, getting up from his lap again, before you decide to stay between his legs, right between the sofa and the table. Jisung stares at you with awaiting eyes, his finger under your chin. But he can’t be dominant right now. Whatever the hell that is. You’re possessing his mind. It’s you who’s looking up at him with big doll-like eyes, as if you’re asking to make him feel good.
“What? You’re gonna beg for it, pretty boy?”
Oh, plot twist. You’re not trying to be submissive here. Or you’re playing the brat. Who knows. That’s what Jisung loves about the dynamic with you. It’s so versatile, he can tell although it’s just your second time with him.
“Once we start you’ll be the only one begging, I promise,” he whispers.
“We’ll see about that, baby,” you reply with a wink. Your hands land on his thighs, before they move upwards, starting to fumble with his belt. He leans back, taking in that beautiful view that he’s granted. Sure, he’s got pretty girls sucking his dick before, but nothing comes close to your hungry eyes, impatiently waiting to get a taste of him.
He realises why it’s that way. Jisung has got a connection with you. A very multifaceted connection but it’s there. The most important part of it being the fact that he’s in love with you. Of course, no one will ever come close to anything that you do.
You slide his pants down, revealing how neglected his dick must feel trapped inside the tight boxers. You almost have pity for him. Jisung is still staring down at you, waiting for the next move.
Deciding to get rid of his underwear too, you waste no time and get to work with it. His cock springs free, painfully hard. Your hand circles around his erection, before you slowly start pumping him. He’s losing his mind from all the teasing, you can see it in his eyes.
“You sure you want this, Y/N? Despite being high?”
You nod, “It’s not a want, it’s a need, Han.”
He chuckles. “Then come on, doll, do something.”
You scoot closer, before a string of saliva collides with his tip. You smear it all over his length, as you continue stroking him.
“Beg for it,” you demand.
And Jisung surrenders. “Please, Y/N, have mercy with me.”
After a little chuckle spills from your lips, you start licking his length, adding a long stripe to his shaft first. You make sure to keep eye contact, right before you take him into your mouth. Jisung watches your head bob up and down, as his own falls back.
“Fuck, I’ve always known, baby,” Jisung speaks between moans, “that you’d look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock, right?”
He’s gripping the blanket that’s laying on the sofa with one hand, while the other one comes close to your head. Jisung is tugging your hair, guiding you up and down the way he enjoys.
“Yeah, come on, make a mess. Make me feel good, yeah?”
You’re drooling all over him and the moans you let out get transformed into vibrations that send him straight to heaven. Jisung has never gotten this close so fast. With anyone. Neither the other women that tried to make him feel good nor alone. You’re out of this world.
“Shit—fuck, I’m close, I’m close, Y/N, please, I’m–“
You enjoy the switch in his demeanour once he’s getting to his orgasm. He sounds so helpless and pathetic, you could get used to it. Which is why you decide to pull his cock out of your mouth, staring up at him, your hand wrapped around his length again.
“When you come for the first time, it’ll be inside my cunt, okay?” you say with a low voice.
“Fucking hell… please, ma’am,” he says, before he gets up and helps you with it too. He doesn’t even care that he’s bare naked while you’re fully dressed again. For some reason, he might discover a new kink here. Jisung guides you to his bed that’s just a few meters away from his couch but much more comfortable.
He is quick to hover your shirt over your head, before your bra lands on the floor next. Just like him. He’s on his knees for you all suddenly. And you wonder if your reaction rate is so low because of the weed or because of this forbidden scene.
You feel kisses erupt on your belly, as they travel upwards. Jisung takes one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, pinching the other one with two of his fingers. His free hand is busy sneaking under your dress, squeezing your thigh. But you need him now. Inside of you. No more teasing. Which is why you grab his head and make him look up at you.
“Get on the bed,” you tell him and he follows suit, having the most mischievous smirk on his face that you’ve ever noticed up until this day. It feels as if he’s getting exactly what he’s asked for.
You pull down your skirt and your panties follow, before you crawl on the mattress and into his lap. Jisung is instantly playing with your tits again, waiting for you to make the next move.
You chuckle, “Condom?”
“Top drawer. Wait—don’t you want me to stretch you first?”
“It’s okay, I can’t wait. Your cock can stretch me,” you tell him with a wink and he just sits there, mouth agape.
You reach for his nightstand table and fish out a condom, unwrapping it and guiding it into his hard length. After you get into a comfortable position, you align his tip with your aching hole and drop down a few centimetres.
“Oh, fuck,” you say, sinking down further, letting him fill you up.
It feels as if everything is more intense than it usually is. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the fact you’re with Jisung, in his apartment, in his bed. Maybe it’s because you’ve been talking more and being more open with him. Maybe it’s a combination of all of those options.
“Biiiig stretch, baby, come on. You can do it,” he encourages you, stroking your back.
“‘S too much,” you say, shaking your head. “But feels so fucking good, I don’t wanna stop.”
He chuckles, telling you to take your time. “That’s why I wanted to prepare you first. But you’re an impatient little slut, aren’t you?”
Oh, fuck. He really wants you dead. Hearing those degrading words from him just arouses you more and it gives you—weirdly enough—strength to move further. Once you’re adjusted to the feeling of having him inside of you, you start moving up and down slowly.
“It’s okay, I’m getting used to it. Fuck. Feels so good, baby.”
“Go on, doll. Ride my dick,” he tells you, leaning back. Jisung’s hands are placed on your hips, occasionally moving further to squeeze your ass.
“Nothing better than that,” you say, picking up your pace a little. It’s exhausting being on top, you kind of underestimated this. After all, your ex never wanted you to be in a position like this, thinking it’ll harm his fragile masculinity for some reason.
“F-Feels so good, Jisung.” The words keep spilling from your lips in between little whimpers and moans. The man underneath you has his hands on your hips again, helping you move while he thrusts into you from below you. All while he’s trying to not lose his mind over the fact that you didn’t call him Han for once.
“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name, baby,” he tells you.
At this point, Jisung is doing most of the work, if you’re honest. But you don’t mind. You like the illusion of having the upper hand in this.
“You fill me up so well… God, I’m gonna come,” you announce.
Jisung keeps rutting into you from underneath, while you fall forward, your arms wrapped around his shoulders.
“You’re such a good slut for me, doll,” he whispers into your ear.
And then he feels it. You’re tightening around him, squeezing his hard cock, cageing him in.
“Did you just clench around me? When I called you a slut?”
You nod, “Hmm, fuck.”
There’s no point in denying. You can’t hold back any longer. The feeling is too intense and your brain is long gone. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is to be blamed on the weed or the scene itself. But it doesn’t really matter anyway. The fact is that Jisung is making you feel good as no one else could ever do. And you’re ready to live with whatever consequences life hands you, as long as you can be with him like this forever.
“Then come on, baby. Show me what a good slut you can be,” is all he needs to say to make you tip over the edge. Further encouraging words spill from his lips, while he helps you through your high. Your legs are shaking, high pitched moans are filling his small studio apartment and you’re sure some neighbour is gonna file a complaint but you don’t care and neither does Jisung.
His own climax gets triggered in the process, when your pussy walls keep clenching around him, as he fills the condom with his release. Once you’ve both calmed down, Jisung tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, feeling his cock slowly softening inside you. You get up and drop on the bed next to him. He’s fast to place the covers over your exposed bodies, pulling you towards him.
“I’ll do anything, Y/N. Whatever it takes for us to be together, okay? Do you trust me?”
You nod, “I trust you, Jisung.”
And that’s when he knows that you’re speaking the truth.
After dinner—the delivery pizza—some more talks and another round of sex that probably made his walls shake, Jisung and you fell asleep in his bed, absolutely exhausted and sober again.
Still, he wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling your body clinging to him just like you did in the hotel. He realises that he’s hungry again—or just in the mood for a midnight snack—which is why he tries his best to be as quiet as possible when he sneaks out of the bed and walks to his little kitchen that’s located in the same room, obviously.
Some leftovers do and he’s glad that you’re sleeping through it despite the little noises he makes. When he’s back to where you are, he notices your phone screen lighting up. Jisung doesn’t want to look. It’s none of his business. But his eyes were there when it happened. So, he might just read the notifications.
[ Seojun ]: Hi, Y/N. This is probably a bad idea and I know you don’t wanna hear anything from me. But I miss you. Like a lot. I regret breaking up with you. Do you think we could try again?
What?
It’s Seojun? Seojun is your ex?
He can’t believe it’s someone he knows.
[ Seojun ]: I’ll be at Yeonjun’s party next Friday. Maybe we can meet there and talk a little? I’m sure you’ve missed me too, haven’t you? ❤️
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#han smut#jisung smut#han jisung smut#stray kids fic recs#skz fic recs#stray kids fic rec#skz fic rec#han fic recs#jisung fic recs#han jisung fic recs#han fic rec#jisung fic rec#han jisung fic rec#stray kids smut#skz smut
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Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion | EP. 4 — ANARTIA AMATHEA
— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —
“Jisung…” you curse yourself for calling him by his name. “Please, finish what you started.”
“Whatever you ask for, baby,” he says. “Come on, spread your legs for me. Be a good girl, will you?”
[ abstract ]: After a rough break up during semester break, you’re put in a class with none other than your longtime academic rival Han Jisung once university starts again. Things don’t get any easier considering he’s your older brother’s best friend and destiny decides to assign you two to a partner project. Luckily, you can distract yourself a little by chatting with the mysterious guy you met online a couple of months ago, getting closer both emotionally and physically with him, absolutely unaware he might be nearer than you would expect…
[ general ]: jisung + fem reader, gamer + stoner jisung, gamer reader, academic rivals/enemies → lovers, brother’s best friend, minho is reader’s slightly older brother, college au, smut + angst + fluff, accidental online dating, inexperienced jisung + inexperienced reader [ real life ] vs simp jisung + brat reader [ online ] so they act a lot differently while chatting, please refer to series m.list for more info
[ warning ]: explicit sexual scene [ includes switch dynamics, protected sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), slightest spit play, (1) pussy slap, name calling such as doll, baby, good boy, praise kink ], consumption of alcohol and cigarettes, anxiety attack
[ words ]: 6.8K
[ note ]: Spoiling you with the next chapter very soon since I didn't post one last week. I hope you will enjoy it :) If you liked this episode too, I'd be very grateful about any kind reblog, comment, ask or DM!! Also, make sure to read The Experience Project, my other series that is part of the same universe!! Lots of love, Cece 🩷
“Answer me, Y/N,” your brother repeats, his voice filled with anger. “Are you in there with Jisung?!”
Your heart stops. At this very moment. It’s ridiculous, really. You don’t even get why Minho has any issue with anything potentially happening between his best friend and you. You’re adults. Basically, Jisung and you have hated each other your whole life, but the pretty marks on your neck that he’s created there just mere seconds ago might beg to differ.
The man who’s inside the little room with you instantly sees the panic in your eyes, all while he’s trying his best to not lose his own mind. He’s never wanted to go this far. Never. But how can he resist when you look at him like this? When you’re the one he wants to hold, to cherish, to love for the rest of his life?
Okay, God, no need to get sentimental. It’s not like Minho’s gonna kill him when he finds him in here with his little sister, right?
“Open the fucking door, Han,” Minho spits from the other side of the room.
Your jaw clenches and your eyes widen, while they search for the gaze of the man in front of you.
“Hey, listen to me,” Jisung whispers, “this sounds ridiculous but there’s a hidden connection from this storage room to Hyunjin’s bathroom. Here, behind the boxes.”
He’s been here a couple of times before, although he’s not Hyunjin’s biggest fan. However, he remembers this weird but useful detail of the floor plan of this unit.
“You want me to just sneak into the bathroom and pretend I wasn’t in here with you? What if I walk in on someone?” you talk back.
Jisung shrugs his shoulders, “Well, it’s either this or facing the consequences of talking to your brother. And by that I mean that I die.”
“I’m sure there’s a way we can explain–“
“I’d love to live, Y/N,” he interrupts you, his voice sounding way more serious than you think would be necessary. You’re sure you can solve this like adults. “He made a stupid agreement with me when we were teenagers, that you were off the table.”
How… dumb.
“That’s so fucking stupid,” you say, scrunching your eyebrows together. Why on earth would they do that? And it lets your mind wander further—why did they even have to make that in the first place? Was there ever a threat of Jisung going that far?
“Yeah, I know, but we don’t have any seconds left to discuss this, come on, go to that damn bathroom,” he tells you.
It seems as if you have no choice. No matter how much you hate Jisung and how stupid your brother is, if they make a dumb contract like this, it’s their issue to solve.
“Okay, okay, boss. Then you go handle him on your own, Jesus Christ.”
You slowly push the boxes aside and crawl over them, trying to make as little noises as possible. Guardedly, you open the hidden door that is supposed to lead you to the bathroom. When you tilt your head a bit, taking a last glimpse at Jisung, he winks at you and blows a kiss in your direction. You roll your eyes and disappear.
A second later, you’re standing inside the bathroom, all the lights turned on.
“What the fuck, Y/N? Can a man not cry alone in his own bathtub?” the owner of the apartment says.
“Fucking hell, Hyunjin, what on earth are you doing here?”
Your friend is sitting there, a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other that he must have forgotten to light. You pull out a lighter from your dress’ pocket and hand it to him. Hyunjin thanks you with a nod before he brings the flame to the object that’s placed between his lips.
“I could ask you the same,” he says, taking a drag. “Was Jisung so bad at fucking that you had to escape?”
“No, you idiot,” you say, nudging him playfully. “My brother cockblocked the whole thing and he can’t see me with his best friend under any circumstances.”
“Ah, okay,” he says. “I hope you didn’t make a mess in my storage room.”
Hyunjin and your friendship is… you don’t even know. You’re not that close and he flirts with you too much for you to not get annoyed about it—especially considering that he’s dating the girl that your brother seems to like—but he’s a creative mind like you are. A bit dramatic, but that’s a nice contrast to your other friends. It’s easy to talk to him about any topic.
“And what are you doing? Isn’t this supposed to be your welcome back party?” you question him.
“Hm, the girl I love just broke my heart,” Hyunjin says, staring in the distance.
“Felix’s roommate?”
“Yup. I’m too drunk to question why you know that she likes me,” he giggles, taking another drag from his cigarette, “but, yup, I fucked things up. I’m an immature idiot that isn’t ready yet for anything serious and I took it out on her. She likes you brother by the way. But someday I’ll manage to move on and be happy for them.”
“Wow,” you reply, “I’ve never heard such… wise words coming from your mouth.”
He doesn’t reply to your sentence but smiles when he randomly says, “Jisung likes you, you know.”
You roll your eyes, “I take my last sentence back.”
“Anyone can tell, Y/N. You guys are a perfect match,” Hyunjin adds, genuinely meaning it. “I might not be good at this… feelings thing and I apologise for sending that incomprehensible text last night—I was drunk—but go for it. Trust me.”
“You’re very trustworthy, Hyunjin, especially right now,” you sarcastically reply.
“Drunk words are sober thoughts and I’m a genius,” he says, holding his arms up, right before he accidentally slides down a bit and lands with his back on the cold bathtub surface.
You hold back a laugh, before you get up and reach for his arm. The cigarette is still dangling from his mouth, when you bring him back to a sitting position.
“Thanks for the talk, Hyunjin. I’m gonna go outside now and face my brother,” you announce, rolling your eyes. He gives you a soft smile and waves at you, before he watches you exit the bathroom.
At the other side of the door is a very angry Minho. You get that he’s overwhelmed with everything that’s been happening, especially tonight with his girl and Hyunjin. However, he doesn’t deserve to take that anger out on you.
“What do you think you’re doing? In there? With Hyunjin? After that asshole betrayed me like–“
“I was just there for him, chill,” you spit back.
“Hm, because that bastard deserves that,” Minho says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. At least he doesn’t suspect anything between you and Jisung anymore, as it seems.
“Your love life isn’t any of my business, okay? But Hyunjin is my friend and because of that, I will hold him accountable for the mistakes he makes so he can learn from them. It’s called communication. You should try it, Minho,” you tell him, hoping he catches the hint.
Your brother rolls his eyes and guides the two of you to the front door, “Whatever, I’ll bring you home.”
Talking to Jisung would be great. There’s so much left unspoken but you’re, first, not ready yet and, second, don’t plan on drawing any suspicion again. So, you decide to just follow your brother and call it a night. No matter how abrupt it is.
“Why did you come back anyway?”
“I thought… I thought she was still here,” Minho admits.
“Oh, okay. I hope you guys can solve things,” you tell him, meaning it.
“I’m sure we can,” your brother says with a hopeful smile. “So, Jisung and you? Nothing happened?”
You gulp but he doesn’t notice. “No, there’s nothing between us. I’m disgusted that you would even think that.”
“Glad to hear the world hasn’t fully turned upside down yet,” your brother jokes before he guides you out of the door.
In the corner of your eyes, you find Jisung standing there, looking at you with those big brown puppy eyes. He will be the death of you. And you will be the death of him.
“So, you’re sure there’s nothing going on between you and my sister?”
Jisung has been on Minho’s balcony for five minutes and it’s been feeling like a full interrogation since the beginning.
“Why are you even asking that, Minho?”
Well, there is a reason he’s asking that. And Jisung is aware of it. Still, he tries to gain some time with his questions.
“Because when I came back to the party looking for… you know who, Yeonjun said that you and Y/N disappeared to the storage room,” he explains.
God, why did Yeonjun have to tell Minho that?
“Yeah, because of Truth or Dare,” Jisung says, playing it cool while losing his mind on the inside.
“Well, did something happen or not?” Minho questions him, staring into his eyes. It’s been some years since they talked about a potential relationship between you and Jisung. When they were teens, Minho caught up on the fact that Jisung had a crush on you—that’s when they made their contract. Since that day, your brother’s best friend wasn’t allowed to think of you as anything more than Minho’s little sister anymore. Maybe that’s why he kept distancing himself, apart from the rivalry that’s been there for over fifteen years now.
“Why are you so interested in this?” he asks him, genuinely trying to figure this out. There’s no way that Minho still views this whole situation like he used to when they were teens. He understood his reasons back then—you’re his younger sister, Jisung is his best friend. If things didn’t work out—how it usually is between teenagers—Minho would be in the most shitty situation, especially if it ended on bad terms.
But you’re grown ups now. And Jisung knows that he would never break your heart if you would let him conquer it.
Besides that, he can’t control that he fell for you twice. Which is embarrassing enough. He still can’t believe that you obviously have to be the girl from the Discord server and the fact that he developed feelings for you again has to prove a point, right?
“Because she’s my sister, Han, I don’t want her to… to get hurt,” Minho explains.
“Oh, so you don’t trust me, hm?”
“That’s not what I meant. She’s never had a boyfriend before and–“
“You’re still playing older protective brother? There’s nothing going on between us, okay? And I get that you want to protect her because you love her. But she’s an adult. She’s living her life and I’m sure you only know half of whatever she’s doing with men,” Jisung defends you. Minho doesn’t even know the whole story about your ex, he realises too.
“God, you make it sound as if I’m a control freak. She told me about her crush, by the way. Some guy she’s been chatting with. I reacted very normally to that. And I don’t want you to confuse her when she’s already with someone that seems to be very good to her,” Minho explains further.
The younger one holds back a chuckle. He’s competing against himself. God, if Minho only knew. Well, Jisung is still in shock too although in the back of his mind he isn’t surprised. It all makes sense now.
“So you want a best brother of the year award? What’s this about?”
Minho rolls his eyes, “Forget what I said. Just remember that we had an agreement. And seeing my sister happy the way she’s been acting whenever she’s texting on her phone has made me so happy too. Don’t go and destroy whatever she’s been building up with that mysterious guy.”
“Hm, sure. I don’t understand this, but sure…” Jisung says, rolling his eyes.
“The agreement, Han,” Minho reminds him. “You promised me to never get involved with her because… what if you guys don’t work out? Am I supposed to decide between my best friend and my sister? I’m not playing protective alpha brother, but I’m having a rational view on this situation.”
Jisung gets his point. He truly gets it. But it’s so unfair that Minho decides over a situation that involves mainly Jisung and you that could happen. This isn’t even real. They’re arguing about something that isn’t real. Maybe Minho should change his major and study philosophy.
“A situation that doesn’t exist, okay? I told you, there’s nothing between us,” Jisung reminds him. Because technically there isn’t, right? It was just some kiss. Sure, you confessed your feelings for his online persona, but this doesn’t mean that you like the real Jisung too.
“Okay, good. That’s all I needed to hear,” his best friend finally says.
“Great. Now that we solved that, we’re gonna talk about the actual reason for you anger?”
“What do you mean?”
“The whole Hyunjin scene. Your girl,” Jisung reminds him.
“It’s nothing,” Minho replies, avoiding eye contact.
“Jesus Christ, go talk to her, Min,” his best friend tells him, unable to watch the suffering playing in front of his eyes.
Jisung knows that his best friend might project his anger on his best friend. It’s not fair, that’s for sure. But he will help him out of this.
You’re almost done with packing your stuff. Even twelve hours later, you still can’t believe what happened last night. Jisung and you kissed. No, screw that. You made out, his fingers went under your dress and inside of you.
By now you’re pretty sure that he’s j.0ne. And you’re also sure that he knows that you’re baby_butt3rfly.
Your brain still needs some time to process this whole thing.
Jisung was the one to text you on Discord first. Jisung was the one who was there for you during nights of you crying about Seojun. He is the one who’s made you come almost every night during the past weeks. He is the one you send all your nudes to. Jisung is the one that you subtly asked to be your boyfriend.
Wait…
This also means that the drunk girl he took care of was… was you.
You were jealous of yourself this whole time?
This is the dumbest shit of the century. And absolutely hilarious.
The 99% chance of j.0ne and Jisung being the same person is what keeps your mood up high and your feelings confused. You don’t wanna think further for now. Not rush things, don’t read too much into it. Future-Y/N can deal with the consequences of tonight.
All you need are two things—first, meet j.0ne in real life to finally see his true identity, second, allow him to continue where you left off last night and let him rail you into oblivion.
You’re gonna have sex with Jisung. Your brother’s best friend. The man you’ve been crushing on for possibly ten years now. Your longtime rival and so-called enemy. God, this feels as if you’re caught in the most cliche fanfic.
You reach for your phone once you’re done with packing and read the latest message you received.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Let’s meet in the hotel room. Finish what we started.
You chuckle.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Fine. I’ll go there first. Just come in once you’re there.
When you enter the hotel that j.0ne has chosen for you, you wonder where that guy gets his money from but you don’t question it. It’s amazing, definitely the most astonishing place you’ve ever been to for a night. Once you reach the hotel’s reception, a kind woman greets you and hands you the keys after you mention your name.
Entering the elevator, you finally get a minute to yourself, able to catch your breath.
You’re meeting him.
If the unlikely situation occurs that j.0ne isn’t who you suspect him to be, you dearly hope things won’t get awkward. But with the way he texted, you’re sure it’s Jisung.
You open the wide wooden doors of your assigned room and step inside, letting your eyes hover over the beautiful furniture and decor. Everything is amazing here and seems so fucking expensive. You’re usually not someone who gets impressed by such things but since you haven’t expected it, it leaves you speechless now.
Putting your stuff on the sofa, you notice there’s obviously only one bed. This is supposed to be a date with very pleasant extras after all. You don’t feel as if this is rushing things. After all, j.0ne and you have been closer to each other than one would expect. Sure, only over screen and with a secret identity, not showing your faces and all, but the time you spend with him—both romantically and sexually—is the most intimate encounter you’ve ever had. Which is crazy.
You sit down on the other sofa, looking out the window.
Until there’s a knock coming from the door.
“Come in,” you say, once again being naive as fuck but it can only be him, right?
The door slightly opens and he takes his time for it. When you turn around you’re not even surprised anymore.
It’s him.
Han Jisung.
He’s standing there, looking at you with that mischievous smile. Carrying a bouquet of an odd number of roses in his arm, he walks towards you and hands you the flowers.
“Hi,” is all he manages to let out, severely nervous.
“Hey,” you reply, “t-thank you for these.”
He nods, biting his lower lip.
You’re wearing a pretty dress again, a dark one of course, combined with those fishnet tights. The butterfly necklaces wrapped around your neck, bringing Jisung’s full attention to it.
“What a surprise,” he says, knowing it’s not.
“I don’t know what to say,” you confess. You’re totally confused. This moment doesn’t feel real, but similar to all the dreams you’ve had that featured Jisung. You wonder what he’s got planned as a date. Of course, if he still wants to go on a date. You know that he likes your online persona, butt3rfly_baby but regarding Y/N? That you are not so sure of. If it was the case he wouldn’t have treated you as his enemy for the past years.
Always bumping into you in the school’s hallway, leaving you out in conversations about Levanter, you’re favourite video game, making fun of you whenever he gets the chance. How’s this supposed to work? Can this even work out?
“What’s on your mind?”
You blink a few times, “I– I’m–“
“Should I leave? Do you feel uncomfortable with me here?” Jisung asks in a small voice and you’ve never seen him so… insecure. Not even when the other men made fun of him at parties over and over again for being inexperienced. Meanwhile, he manages to make a woman come with his soothing words and his husky voice, without even touching her.
God, why does your brain instantly need to go that way?
“Stay here,” you say, reaching for his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it and pulling him closer. “Shall we finish what we started, Han? Or should I say, J?”
You click your tongue, as you walk further towards him.
“That’s up to you, doll,” he provokes you back. Fuck, hearing that pet name out loud again makes your thighs all weak. A sensation is building up in your lower stomach. Just from this stupid word.
“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head.
He chuckles. Jisung reaches under your chin with his index finger, making you look at him. “Can you handle it?”
“Sure, I can,” you scoff.
Although you’re not sure. J.0ne has left you absolutely speechless and exhausted after every video session that you’ve had. And now he’s here, in real life, and you know quite well that this guy has some intense stamina and the prettiest dick that you’ve been waiting for to have inside of you—no matter your mouth or your cunt, at this point you don’t care. As ashamed as you are to admit it, but you even would have had allowed him to fuck you against the shelves of Hyunjin’s storage room last night.
Calm down, Y/N. Slow down a bit, too. It’s getting pathetic.
“You’ve been warned,” Jisung says, bringing you back to real life but not giving you any second to react to what he said. His lips collide with your own, as he pulls you closer, his hands placed on your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh, only separated by the fabric of your dress. You fully give in, instantly being back to where you left off last night.
Should you talk things out first? Probably.
Has Jisung planned a romantic date for the girl he’s been texting for two months now? Absolutely.
But you two are too eager for each other and everything else can wait, right?
You’re the one to take the initiative this time, when your tongue enters his mouth, entangled with his own. Jisung smirks, letting you have his way with him, when you slowly guide him towards the bed. You’re insane. In the best way possible. He’s never been with a woman who’s had such an effect on him and he wonders if that’s just all the built up tension that’s been slumbering inside the two of you for so many years.
Spoiler: it absolutely is.
He lands on the mattress, before Jisung watches you take a seat in his lap, straddling his thighs.
“Doll,” he says, but doesn’t manage to finish his sentence when you start grinding on top of him. The material of your panties is rubbing over his pants, as you feel his hardening bulge that’s begging to be freed.
“Shouldn’t we talk first?” he asks in between kisses.
You chuckle, “Probably should. But I need you to fuck me first, Han.”
You’re still calling him by his surname. Something dark awakens inside of him at this moment—he’s gonna have you squirm underneath him, scream his name at the top of your lungs, his actual name.
“Don’t call me by that name,” he warns you.
You scoff, “I call you whatever I want.”
Your lips wander further, passing his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, before you start placing the most beautiful pattern on his collarbones, opening a few buttons of his shirt. And he lets you. Jisung is entering a state that forces him to surrender, to fully give in to whatever you’re willing to grant him. And he’ll thank you for it.
“Fuck, feels good,” he whispers, his voice dropping low.
You smirk, loving the way he reacts to your little movements. However, this is all part of his plan. Some little piece of rationality catches him, makes him gain power over his own thoughts again at that moment.
Jisung grabs you by the waist and manhandles you around as if you weigh nothing, watching your back hit the mattress.
“What the fuck was that for?”
You stare at him with wide eyes, as he’s hovering above you.
He smirks, “You think you’re in charge, doll?”
“Don’t think I’ll do whatever you want just because I sent you some nudes and facetimed with you when I was horny,” you tell him. You still can’t imagine Jisung in such a dominant perspective if he’s usually the brattiest brat to ever exist. But J.0ne, though…
“Oh, we’ll see about that,” he replies with a wink, before his lips collide with your neck.
“What do you– oh, God,” you breathe out, letting him have his way with you. More kisses bloom on your skin, while he’s wandering south.
“You can call me Jisung, that’s just as fine, baby,” he says, sliding down further, before he pulls down your tights and discards them. He spreads your legs and you follow suit, revealing your soaked panties to him. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but the real life version of your pretty pussy is the most beautiful view his eyes have ever witnessed. He wants to take a mental note of it, so he can replay this work of art whenever he feels like it.
You immediately start gripping the sheets, when his tongue collides with your ruined underwear, making it even wetter than it already is. Jisung isn’t surprised about how easily you get aroused—he’s seen those drenched panties in your videos before.
“Fucking hell, do something, Han,” you tell him, your voice getting louder and more desperate.
He looks up at you, a few strands of his hair covering his forehead, almost hiding his eyes, “Nah, what’s my actual name, Y/N?”
“J? You want me to call you J? Or moan your gamertag? J.0ne? I didn’t expect you to be that much of a–“
“Jisung,” he grunts. “Call me Jisung, when you come on my tongue, you get that?”
You roll your eyes, “Whatever. As if you’d ever manage to make me come.”
“I have before, Y/N. Without even touching you,” Jisung reminds you. “So aren’t you curious what it’ll be like if you get the whole package, hm?”
You are. You absolutely are dying to know what it feels like although you’d be too ashamed to admit that. He’s Han. Your academic rival and all. The guy you don’t get along with and still probably have had a crush on for at least ten years now.
So, you whisper, “Go for it, Han.”
He rolls his eyes but starts anyway. His fingertips start grazing over your covered wetness, making a full mess out of your underwear. It’s some type of red lingerie again, you seem to own many of those and he’s already contemplating how to take this pair home with him without you noticing it. Oh, fuck. His brain is already turning into mush, simply because he’s so close to you, about to devour your pussy as if it’s his last meal.
You let out a gasp when he shoves the panties aside, not bothering to take them off. Jisung spreads your pussy lips apart, admiring the view once again, before you feel a string of saliva hit your bundle of nerves. This is everything you’ve ever wanted. All those fantasies that your ex made you feel bad for. Who would have thought that it’s gonna be Han Jisung to turn those dreams into reality?
“Come on, don’t make me wait any longer,” you tell the man between you thighs, one of your hands reaching for his curly hair. It’s grown long, long enough for you to almost turn a few strands into a makeshift ponytail. You guide him closer and all that bastard does is smirk and lick his lips, before he dives right in.
The first touch is hypnotising, as if you’re entering another dimension. The tip of his tongue is glued to your clit, before he starts moving it in circles, as if he’s done this a thousand times before. Well, he has. In his mind, of course.
Out of reflex, you part your legs further, giving him better access. Your fingers are playing with his hair, moving Jisung’s head the way you enjoy most and all he does is follow suit.
“You can be a good boy, after all. Finally found a way to shut you up,” you grunt, hiding your moans.
He lets go of you.
“Stop teasing me or you’re not gonna come at all,” he says, darkness swirling around in his eyes.
Faster than you manage to react, he dives right in again, making out with your cunt once again. Two of his fingers are now lazily circling around your entrance and you know he’s doing this for payback.
Fuck. You hate him. You hate that guy so much and still you allow him to have you like this, to make you feel good.
Maybe hate isn’t as fitting anymore.
But destiny doesn’t give you much time to contemplate further, when Jisung pushes two of his digits into your hole, knowing you will be able to handle it. You immediately clench around him, as your pussy sucks his fingers in. He starts with slow thrust, making it his number one goal to drive you insane tonight.
“Say my name and I’ll let you come, doll,” he tells you.
But you won’t give in. You shake your head no and he continues, curling his fingers inside you to search for that spot that you always find in all those videos you sent him. When he brushes that velvety part for the first time, you fear you might see stars soon. You arch your back and Jisung decides to throw his principles out the window, when his fingers pick up their pace.
He’s scissoring you open without any mercy, watching you get closer and closer to the edge. Meanwhile, that intense feeling inside your stomach increases and threatens to take over your body and mind.
And then he lets go.
“When you come for the first time, it’s gonna be around my dick, okay?”
All you’re able to do is nod, brain already foggy. And Jisung senses it. He panics for a bit, unsure if he should go further with you.
“Hey, Y/N? You’re still with me?”
You nod again, “Yeah. No worries.” You’re just in trance, but in a good way. You’ve never expected him to be so good at this.
“You wanna keep going? Need a break?”
You shake your head, “No, please, go on. I need you.” You sound so desperate, Jisung is afraid he might come in his pants.
He closes his eyes so you don’t notice him rolling them to the back of your head. It’s like you flipped a switch inside of him, as he feels himself getting more and more emotional. This is not what he planned. He’s already too deep in this mess anyway. Jisung shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be so close to you regarding the fact you’re his best friend’s little sister.
But why does it feel so goddamn right if it’s supposed to be wrong?
“Jisung?”
You called him by his name.
“Huh?”
Your thumb starts caressing his face, “Are you okay, though? We can stop whenever you need.”
“I’m fine. Really,” he tells you with a sincere smile. “Wanna continue?”
You click your tongue, “Finish what you started, will you?”
Jisung gets up from the bed for a second and walks to his backpack, fishing out a condom. His shirt gets discarded on the sofa next and his pants follow quickly. He rips the packaging open with his teeth.
Once he’s at the edge of the bed, you start watching him palm his hard erection through his boxers. Nothing you haven’t seen before. But so much better than the video version.
The fabric falls down, pools around his ankles until he kicks it away and walks towards you. The mattress shifts, when he crawls back on it, coming closer to you, bare naked. While you’re still wearing your clothes.
You seem to read his mind, when you hover your dress over your head, getting rid off your bra a second later. You leave the panties on and Jisung doesn’t seem to mind, it’s more of the opposite.
“Beg for it,” he says with a stern voice, positioning himself between your legs.
You scoff, “I’m not gonna beg for you, Han.”
“Alright. Then I’ll just grab my clothes and–“
“No, no! Wait, wait,” you immediately say, reaching for his wrist.
“Yeah, baby? What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Please…” you look at him with big doe eyes.
“Please, what? Use your words, doll. It’s nothing you haven’t said to me before, just on Discord,” he reminds you.
“Jisung…” you curse yourself for calling him by his name. “Please, fuck me. Finish what you started, for fuck’s sake.”
“Whatever you ask for, baby,” he says. “Come on, spread your legs for me like earlier. Be a good girl, will you?”
You sigh, “Don’t make me wait any longer, come on.”
Slap.
The palm of his hand collides with your exposed pussy.
“Stop being such an impatient brat,” he warns you. Jisung reaches for his cock and glides down the condom, before he starts stroking his length.
“Stop talking and fuck me already,” you tell him.
Still, he decides to tease you further, when he starts rubbing his tip over your clit for what feels like eternity.
He sees you surrender underneath him, finally, wordlessly begging him to take care of you and your needs. And that’s what he does. Carefully, he pushes the first few centimetres in and your pussy walls instantly wrap and quiver around him, sucking him in, as if you’re anatomically meant to be together.
Jisung keeps his eyes on yours and when you nod, he starts moving. You encourage him to pick up his pace from the beginning. You don’t care if you won’t be able told back any longer, if you come too fast and if he does the same. This feeling that’s he’s granting you feels too good to complain about anything.
“Oh, God, this feels so fucking good, baby,” you tell him, when he slightly changes the angle, after throwing your legs over his shoulders, so he can go deeper. You’ve never been in a position like this before—with Seojun it was the usual missionary, not whatever you’re doing with Jisung right now. For that guy, doggy was too kinky, cowgirl was too submissive for him and mating press too intimate. With his girlfriend, yes.
But you’re not wasting any thoughts on that idiot—not when Jisung is burying his cock into your cunt as if his life is depending on it. “God and baby in one sentence? You’re gonna suffer the consequences of my ego, doll.”
“Shut the fuck up and fuck me harder,” you tell him.
“You’re gonna regret this,” he chuckles, following your demand.
By now you're convinced that the walls must be shaking from all the banging of the bedframe hitting them and your moans echoing through the room. But you don’t care. You don’t care about anything else right now.
“Oh, fuck. Yes, right there, Han, right there,” you praise him and it takes every power he’s got for him to not absolutely lose his mind.
He keeps pounding into you at a sharp pace, “Nah, I told you to not use that name, baby.”
“Ji– fuck. Ji–“
You want to. You’re ready to give up, to surrender. But he’s fucking you so good, that you aren’t able to say his name. No syllable makes it past your lips.
Jisung brings his hand to your face, squishing your cheeks together and making you look at him. He’s caught in a dilemma. On one hand, he’s got so much annoyance left for you, caused by the longtime rivalry but on the other hand, he wants to hold you close, make love to you, tell you that you’re the most precious thing on this planet.
Still, when you part your lips and he feels you clenching around him, he decides to just finish what you guys started.
“Can’t even say my full name, huh? Come on, I want you to tell me who’s making you feel that good,” he whispers into your ear, brushing over that sweet spot inside you.
“Ji– can’t–“
“Oh, I know you can. Come on,” he encourages you.
“Ji– Jisung, please,” you finally manage to say.
“Feels good, baby?”
Feels good. He’s failing you into oblivion and has the audacity to ask if it’s good.
“Hm, perfect, you’re so good at this, you’re incredible, this is so unfair,” you whimper, being just as twisted about this whole situation as he is. Why is your enemy managing to pleasure you like this?
He brings one of his hands where your body meets, his thumb being pressed against your clit, ready to drive you over the edge.
“Come on, let go, yeah? I’ve got you,” he says with the softest voice again.
You can’t help but surrender fully, feeling your orgasm wash over your body, rush through all your nerves, when that sensation takes over you. Your legs are shaking and high pitched moans are filling the hotel room but this time Jisung doesn’t drown those noises out. He encourages you further, helps you ride out your high, until he feels himself getting closer too.
His moans create a harmony with your own, “Fuck– where do you want me to come, doll?”
“Wherever you want,” you tell him, meaning it.
His brain short circuits, when he pulls out and rips away the condom. Jisung is stroking his cock to completion, until hot spurts of his release land all over your chest.
“I’ve never expected your tits to become even more beautiful,” he chuckles, once he’s come down again.
You roll your eyes and laugh.
“Wait here, yeah? I’m gonna grab a towel,” he says and you nod.
A minute later he’s back, handing you the fabric and helping you up on your feet again. Jisung guides you towards where he just went to, when he says, “Let me take you to the bathroom, yeah?”
“W-What?”
“You should go pee after sex, Y/N. I also ran a bath for you, yeah?”
He looks so… caring. Perhaps he’s just providing aftercare because he’s not some asshole or fuckboy. You shouldn’t read too much into it, right?
“Why… I… uhm, I need a moment for myself.”
“Of course.”
Once you went to the toilet, you walk towards the huge mirror inside the bathroom. Jisung’s seeds are sticking to your skin, while he’s waiting on the other side of the door.
That’s when reality hits you.
What the fuck have you done?
You just slept with your brother’s best friend. Jisung is the guy you’ve been chatting with for two months. He’s the one that… that you are falling in love with.
Panic and overthinking catches the best of you, when you fully get back to presence. You shouldn’t be here. This is too serious.
When you turn your head around, you notice the bathtub getting filled with hot water. There are rose petals and foam, an astonishing scent is lingering in the air.
You panic again. This is too much for you to handle and you feel like an asshole for not appreciating it. Rushing to the sink, you clean your chest and the rest of your body there, trying to make the best out of it.
Tears start running down your face. Why the hell are you crying now? What the fuck is this shit?
You’re overwhelmed, that’s the easiest answer to it. Mixed with being scared.
Scared to get hurt, scared to get lied to again, scared to get your heart broken.
You hear a knock on the door. “Can I come in?”
“Okay,” you say and Jisung enters. His smile fades immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks. Great. Now he’s panicking too, while grabbing another towel and handing it to you.
“Is everything alright with you? Did I hurt you?”
His voice is so small and insecure.
“N-No, nothing… I….”
He gulps, “Was it anything I said?”
What if he breaks your heart just like Seojun did?
What if he doesn’t feel the same way you do, if this is just some physical thing to him?
What if Minho finds out?
What if you end up with nothing and no one?
What if–
“No, it’s… listen, I… I think I should go,” you announce.
His eyes wide, “Go? Go where? It’s the middle of the night, Y/N…”
You rush outside the bathroom and he follows you. Grabbing your backpack, you fish out a clean pair of panties and put them on, before slipping into some sweatpants, a bra and a shirt you have brought with you.
“What? Already so late? I’ll call Chan to pick me up it’s–“
“You’re not,” Jisung tells you, standing in front of you now, when you turn around.
“Why? Because you’re jealous?”
“Yes. But that’s not my point nor reason,” he explains. “You just slept with me and now you’re acting all differently and you’re crying and trying to escape me. What’s going on?”
You pack the rest of your stuff and when he notices that you’re not carrying any jacket with you, he reaches for one of his sweaters and places the fabric on your shoulders. You let him, knowing that it would be dumb to argue further.
What you need is fresh air, to clear your mind, to run away from your fears like you always do.
You take a deep breath and nod, before you head to the door. Still, he follows you outside the hotel room. He’s not gonna risk anything to happen to you.
“I’m sorry… I can’t do this right now, I’m sorry, Han,” you say, knowing he’s walking behind you.
Han.
Of course you wouldn’t call him Jisung.
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#han smut#jisung smut#han jisung smut#stray kids fic recs#skz fic recs#stray kids fic rec#skz fic rec#han fic recs#jisung fic recs#han jisung fic recs#han fic rec#jisung fic rec#han jisung fic rec#stray kids smut#skz smut
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Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion | EP. 3 — COLIAS CROCEUS
— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —
Jisung is fast to place the palm of his other hand on your mouth, “Shhh, those sweet noises are only reserved for me, yeah?”
[ abstract ]: After a rough break up during semester break, you’re put in a class with none other than your longtime academic rival Han Jisung once university starts again. Things don’t get any easier considering he’s your older brother’s best friend and destiny decides to assign you two to a partner project. Luckily, you can distract yourself a little by chatting with the mysterious guy you met online a couple of months ago, getting closer both emotionally and physically with him, absolutely unaware he might be nearer than you would expect…
[ general ]: jisung + fem reader, gamer + stoner jisung, gamer reader, academic rivals/enemies → lovers, brother’s best friend, minho is reader’s slightly older brother, college au, smut + angst + fluff, accidental online dating, inexperienced jisung + inexperienced reader [ real life ] vs simp jisung + brat reader [ online ] so they act a lot differently while chatting, chan playing cupid in this chapter, please refer to series m.list for more info
[ warning ]: explicit sexual scene [includes semi-public encounters, making out while being slightly tipsy, fingering (f receiving) ], consumption of alcohol and mention of weed, a lot of jealousy from both of them once again
[ words ]: 6.0K
[ note ]: Sorry for the long wait, there is a lot going on irl for me rn. I hope you will enjoy this next part, thanks for the crazy support!! If you liked this episode too, I'd be very grateful about any kind reblog, comment, ask or DM!! Also, make sure to read The Experience Project, my other series that is part of the same universe!! Lots of love, Cece 🩷
“Why on earth is there a video of you kissing my brother?” Hannah asks, fury in her eyes. “Since when are you and Chan a thing?”
You’re sipping on your iced cherry matcha, barely awake, while your best friend is attacking you with such accusations.
“Hannah, we’re not. Sorry, you had to see that.”
You should have thought this through when you asked your bestie’s older brother to make out with you at the semester opening party, just to win a stupid bet against Jisung. Of course, people were gonna see you. What were you even thinking?
“I’ll have to bleach my eyes at least twice, thank you very much,” she sighs. “Why are you running around campus kissing my brother then?”
“It was… for a bet,” you explain. “With Jisung. We bet on who is the first one to make out with someone at the party. Chan was just there to help me win.”
Hannah’s mouth falls agape, while she gathers up all her strength to not let up a high pitched scream in the middle of the lecture hall.
“When will Jisung and you stop your childish games and just confess? It’s getting boring… You’re the definition of slow burn.”
As your bestie, she has been watching this silly little game between your brother’s friend for a way too long time now. It’s obvious for anyone else that this rivalry has grown into something different since you started college.
“What? What do you mean by confessing?” you try to play dumb but fail for once in your lifetime.
“We don’t have to have this conversation now, the lecture is starting soon, but we will discuss this. I’m sure it’s very much reciprocated.”
No, it’s not. And you know that. Which is also the reason you stopped putting hope into whatever Jisung and you could evolve to. You’re finally talking to someone new, that guy from the Discord server, meeting him tonight and some second guesses about your longtime crush won’t destroy this.
But then again, you remember how fucking sad he looked when he saw you kissing Chan last night at the party. Like a lost puppy. If you didn’t know better, you’d expect him to have tears in his eyes. And on top of that, he still hasn’t replied to your message.
Could there be…
No, this is ridiculous. That idiot was probably sad about losing against you. It would fit him, after all.
You don’t reply to Hannah anymore, especially when the professor stops talking to Chan—the tutor—and starts the lecture. You’re gonna study for this current class with him later and you’re sure there’s lots to discuss.
In the afternoon, you meet Chan at his dorm. Yuna and you luckily have your apartment back, but since she’s already got her own study group over, you decided to go to your friend’s place instead. Your best friend’s brother opens the door for you with a wide grin, pulling you into a hug. You’re not the greatest fan of physical touch, but with Chan it’s okay. He’s like a teddy bear. A very muscular teddy bear, but it’s always comforting.
Perhaps that’s why you’ve been contemplating talking about him with the Jisung issue. After all, he’s been involved in this thanks to you. Apart from that, it’s only fair to get whatever mess with your longtime rival sorted out of your head, before you will meet j.0ne for the first time tonight.
“What’s on your mind, Y/N? It’s the third time you made a mistake in that exercise. Everything alright?”
You let out a deep breath, shifting around in your position. “It’s… I think you didn’t notice but after our kiss last night, Jisung came to me and he was… he behaved very oddly.”
“In which way?” Chan asks, tilting his head. After all, he didn’t suspect that his friend has a crush on you. Until last night. Which makes him feel a bit nauseous thinking about the fact that Chan made out with you. Jisung has never told him, but the signs are pretty obvious now.
So, when he went to the studio last night after leaving campus, he found Jisung there too. And all his suspicions turned out to be true.
“Do you like Y/N?”
He confronted him, just like that.
“Why… no… why would you think that?” Jisung replied, his voice shaking, not making him sound any convincing.
“It looked as if you had tears in your eyes, when you saw me kissing her. That’s why I pulled back,” he confesses.
“N-No… it’s… look, it’s complicated, okay?”
“Why? You make it complicated, Jisung. I’m sure she likes you too,” Chan tried to hype his friend up.
“She would never like a loser like me.”
His heart hurt.
“Stop talking to yourself like this, mate,” he told the younger one, giving him a little nudge as if this would solve the problem of Jisung’s low self esteem, especially when it’s about you.
“But it’s… true. I’m just some nerd, I’m not really experienced when it comes to women except for a few horrible one night stands I had. What could I even offer her?”
Chan’s heart aches once more when he thinks back to last night. Without sharing the secret, Chan will subtly guide you to the hints he’s got, perhaps he can even find out if you might reciprocate the feelings that his friend has for you.
“Startled. Out of character. Absent. I don’t know. He congratulated me for winning the bet and then he just… left. I couldn’t find him anywhere. And he didn’t respond to my text in which I told him that he doesn’t need to do most of our shared uni project alone just because he lost the bet. Isn’t he overreacting?”
Your friend sighs, “Could there be a reason why he acted so strangely?”
“I don’t think so… he was the one who suggested this dumb bet after all. Telling me I’m so innocent that I wouldn’t win anyway. He doesn’t know half of what my love life is about,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
“Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Chan asks with a smirk.
You laugh, “Ah, not much. There’s just some guy that I’ve been talking to these weeks and it could become something more.”
Chan wonders why you just didn’t ask this mysterious guy then at the campus party to kiss you. Perhaps he doesn’t study at your university.
But after his talk to Jisung last night and all he’s observed throughout the past years, your friend has always wondered something else. The chemistry between his younger colleague and you is insane. Sure, you constantly nag each other, fight in debates in school and do dumb bets like last night. But what if that’s just a coping mechanism to hide your true feelings? And now you’re seeing someone else?
He’d love for Jisung and you to become a couple. An idea pops up in his head that he instantly feels bad for—but since you and Jisung are both his friends who are just too dumb to realise how you seem to feel about each other, he could play cupid, right?
“I’ve always thought… and please don’t judge me, that maybe you… and… and Jisung would become a couple one day,” Chan explains, avoiding eye contact.
“Please. I used to have a crush on him, just for the record, but this would never work. Besides that, he doesn’t view me like this anyway,” you confess.
Your friend isn’t even surprised, if he’s honest. He would have expected you to fall for Jisung at some point.
“Why wouldn’t it work?”
The fact that Chan doesn’t reply to the second part of your statement leaves you confused.
“Minho. He’s his best friend. And ever since we were teenagers, my brother told him to stay away from me, romantically and sexually,” you expain.
Chan rolls his eyes, “You’re adults…”
He would never pull a move like this if Hannah dated one of his friends.
“Yeah, I know. Minho’s weird. And only two years older so what’s the fuss about?” You say, shaking your head. “But… there’s something else I might need advice with.”
“What’s it?”
“I… I met someone… online, like I said, the guy I’ve been talking to,” you tell him. “Not on a dating app but on a Discord gaming server. I’ve been texting him for some months now and… yeah, sorry for the TMI, but we also, uhm, video chatted if you know what I mean. Now he’s invited me to his friends’ get-together.”
It feels good to say this out loud to someone without adding too many details. But you feel like you should share what’s about to happen tonight with at least one person and Chan is that certain friend of yours who you trust the most when it comes to this.
You told Minho yesterday. Unfortunately he saw you giggling at your phone screen and you weren’t able to lie to him. Surprisingly, he took it well and even encouraged you which is probably only because you’re not texting one of his friends.
But sharing this with someone like Chan feels right.
“That sounds great! Have you met him before in real life?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound too fake. Yes, Chan is happy for you, he always is as long as you are. But what about… Jisung and you? God, he feels as if he’s more invested in this than you are.
“No, which is why I’m so nervous,” you say, awkwardly giggling.
“What are you gonna do?”
“Camping with his friends,” you add.
Chan’s eyes widen. You can’t be serious. He’s never expected you to be so naïve.
“You wanna meet a stranger in the woods? Are you out of your mind, Y/N?”
This isn’t even about him trying to set you up with his friend, he’s just helping you get some sense into your brain.
“But, Channie… he’s so sweet, really,” you reassure him. “And super respectful. Takes care of his drunk female friends when they’re in danger?”
Chan can’t believe what he’s hearing. Great, the bare minimum and you’re praising this stranger for it.
“What a Disney prince, wow. You’re not gonna meet him. At least not in this scenario,” he tells you, sounding as if he’s your older brother. It makes you mad, it makes you feel immature.
But if you think about it…
Maybe he’s right. Maybe you haven’t thought this through. And with Jisung on your mind, you keep contemplating if this was the right decision.
When Jisung gets to Felix’s and his roommate’s place, none of them are there. He puts down his backpack and goes inside the kitchen, making himself some instant ramyeon. He can’t remember when it was the last time that he’s been so excited and nervous at the same time.
He’s gonna meet you. The girl from Discord. The one and only that has been keeping him company these past months on any level possible, making his life better for once. Fuck. He dearly prays he won’t fuck this up. He checks again if he’s got everything for a successful camping trip—his tent, other equipment, an extra hoodie for you to wear, cigarettes and condoms.
Jisung can’t wait to find out what you are like in real life. You’re definitely the prettiest girl he’ll ever lay his eyes on, that he’s already sure of.
And on top of that, you kind of asked him to be his boyfriend. That’s insane. And just puts more pressure on him, considering he’s never been in a relationship before or anything close to that.
He’s humming a sweet melody, totally in his thoughts while packing up the rest of his stuff, before he hears his phone ding with a message from none other than you.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Hey, J. I’m sorry for the late message but I don’t think I can meet you tonight. I’m just not ready yet and I’d prefer a different setting, if I’m honest. I’d love to see you someday, but not now. Have a nice trip with your friends. ❤️
His heart breaks into a million pieces. Shit. He’s been looking forward to this moment and now it’s ripped out of his hand?
Sure, you’re telling him to meet some other time but what if you’re just trying to be nice? What if you don’t want to ever actually meet him? What if this has all been a lie?
He can feel his throat tightening, as anxiety takes over him and then the tears start strolling down his face again. Just like yesterday after the party. The talk with Chan helped a bit, but being put in such a situation now doesn’t really help his self esteem.
Of course he understands you and he would never be mad at you. It’s just that he’s… sad.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Hey, that’s fine. Have a nice weekend.
A little while later, Felix and his other roommate come home. He explains the situation to them, trying his best to hold back tears once again. His mood has decreased by a thousand levels and he doesn’t want to destroy his friends’ get-together with it—so he decides to not go at all.
“So, what now?” Felix asks him.
“I’m not coming, I’ll stay here,” Jisung explains, shaking his head, while his arms are crossed in front of his chest.
“You’re such a loser,” his freckled friend tells him in a playful manner, knowing this usually cheers Jisung up.
And Jisung sighs but tries to drown out a laughter. He gets up from the couch and takes the fluffy blanket with him. “A broken hearted loser. And if you excuse me, I need to play video games now, smoke some weed and cry like a real man like God intended.”
His roommates try to hold back their laughs, finding it very entertaining to watch him become the lead role of a K-Drama, and once Jisung is entering Felix’s bedroom, he hears his other friend yell, “If you need anything, you call us, yeah?”
“Yes, babes. I love you. Take care,” Jisung replies, before he sinks down on the chair in front of Felix’s desk.
He turns on the computer and logs into Steam and Discord on there. Jisung searches through his backpack and brings out a transparent plastic bag, filled with his green goods. The papers are lying in there too, so he grabs them. Once he’s done rolling his joint, Jisung brings the object right between his lips and guides his lighter to the tip. Right before he can let the flame connect with the cannabis cigarette, a message appears on the computer screen.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Listen… I can explain this
He sighs but types anyway, the joint still dangling from his mouth.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: What’s there to explain? I’m not mad at you.
Because he isn’t. Jisung could never be mad at you and he respects your boundaries. It’s just sad you told him a few hours before the trip.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You’re texting without grammar errors, which makes you sound very serious.
He lets out a giggle, before he puts the joint and all his other stuff away. Change of plans.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Fine.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I’m just… I was really looking forward to it and I think it’s pretty normal to be sad about it, right?
You take some time to type but he receives a few texts rather quickly.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Of course. I’m sorry for telling you so late.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: It’s…
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You know… it’s nothing against you and I know you would never harm me but going to the woods with a man that I’ve never seen irl before…
Holy shit.
He didn’t even think of that. And usually Jisung does anything for any female person in his life to feel as comfortable as possible. But since he’s a man and doesn’t experience the angst and danger you might be put in, he didn’t consider this to come across as a bit weird. Very weird, now that he’s reflecting.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: oh fuck
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: yes
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: shit it definitely wasn’t meant that way
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i see it now omfg istg i didn’t wanna scare you, doll
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Haha it’s fine!
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Have a nice trip with your friends 🫶
Right. The trip he just canceled. It isn’t just because you won’t be there and because his mood is ruined, but Felix invited his gym crush Changbin and Jisung’s other temporary roommate seems to be getting close to Minho, his best friend, and he didn’t want to third-wheel there.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: oh i'm not going
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: if you’re up for it we can play a round of levanter later
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You’re not going?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Pls don’t tell me it’s because i'm not going… I didn’t want to ruin your night ):
Now he feels even worse. Triggering your guilty conscience is the last thing he’s wanted.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: don’t worry doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I didn’t feel like going anyway
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: my best friend is trying to get together with this girl hes been crushing on for years so maybe it’s a good thing I’m at home instead. The other two are about to become a couple as well sooo :)
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Is it the girl you took care of when she was drunk?
Why are you even asking that?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: oh, no that’s someone else
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Ah okay
Oh, Jisung knows why you’re asking now.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: are you jealous, doll?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Me?!
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Never!!
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Okay maybe a bit 🤭
For some reason he likes that about you. It makes him feel special that you only seem to want him for yourself. No one has ever acted like this before.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i like that tbh
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: kinda hot ngl
Still, he’s a bit insecure if you want to meet at all. Or if this whole two months build up was for the relationship that’s blooming between you two to stay inside this Discord chat forever.
He decides to gather up all his strength and ask again. What could go wrong, right?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: so
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: do you still want to meet me once you’re ready? or not at all?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I do!!
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: As soon as possible
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: But maybe somewhere else? Where it’s just the two of us
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: And preferably not in the woods lol
He feels relieved that it’s really just caused by the weird setting he’s created.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: lmao
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: yeah sure
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: how about a public place? I’ve got a nice idea what you would enjoy seeing and i could also book us a hotel room?
He’s been having this certain idea ever since he met you on Discord. Your name inspired him, that’s for sure. But he wanted to save that special plan for when the time feels right which is why he opted for a simple meet when suggesting the camping trip. However, now that he’s contemplating further, it seems to be right to do this on the first date.
A date.
He still can’t believe this. Jisung has never been on a date before that gave him so much hope. Usually, the women didn’t show up or didn’t match with him.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: That sounds great!!
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: this saturday? are you free
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’d love to meet you tomorrow night but there’s this party of one of my friends who just came back from paris
Friend is a little stretched. But ever since Hyunjin came back from his gap semester, he’s talked about this party and since all of Jisung’s friends are going—as well as Minho’s little sister which he’s been trying to avoid for the past twenty four hours—he can’t cancel that too.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Saturday is perfect!! I can’t wait to meet you and find out what you’ve got prepared for us!!
He feels so flustered. And so happy.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you can check into the room first if you like and bring your stuff there
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: and i’ll just pick you up
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: or we meet at the place that i’ve chosen 😊
Jisung wants to make this as comfortable and safe as possible for you.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Sounds good! Looking forward to it ❤️
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: me too ❤️
He’s going to meet you. Finally. And maybe this will even evolve into more, both romantically and physically speaking.
You don’t even know why you came here. Sure, Hyunjin is somewhat of a friend of yours—you’re taking the same classes this semester again—but he’s left you a bit confused after last night. Ever since you stopped texting j.0ne and went to bed, you received a message from Hyunjin, in which he asked you out on a date. You told him at least a thousand times that you’re not interested in him—which wouldn’t have held you back from using him for the bet against Jisung but we’re gonna ignore that—and still, he sent you some half-comprehensible gibberish that he must have wrote while he was drunk.
But the worst part of it all—as if you don’t already have enough issues going on inside your head and life—your brother told you that the girl he likes—Felix’s roommate—is currently dating Hyunjin. While Hyunjin goes around and asks other women out. So, of course you told Minho but it still leaves you confused and guilty although you haven’t done anything.
Hopefully, the second somaek you’re drinking will help you drown out those thoughts inside your head and luckily Lily is here to keep you company. Yuna and Hannah are somewhere else, currently talking to people they seem to be interested in and when you see the latter with a person she gets a bit close to, you notice how Chan—who’s also here—doesn’t care about it. You sometimes wish Minho was as chill about the whole dating topic as well. But judging from how he reacted to you telling him about j.0ne, you’ve got hopes again.
An hour later, you join an already ongoing drinking game. You’re not really in the mood but since Minho is gone—wherever the hell he went—and Lily is encouraging you to participate in a fun activity after all the horror with Seojun, you oblige. Although you don’t really feel like it. The only one that you want is j.0ne anyway. You’re finally gonna meet him tomorrow.
You’re dragged out of your thoughts, when the living room door swings open and Jisung enters the room again. Weird. You saw him leave the party an hour ago with Felix and his roommate, but he seems to be back. What you don’t know is that Jisung has got another mission on his to-do-list tonight and it’s called revenge. Revenge for you kissing Chan and winning the stupid bet. He’s ignored you for over a day now but when Minho told him that Hyunjin asked you out, he couldn’t control his emotions anymore. Sure, he’s finally gonna meet the girl from his Discord server tomorrow night but he also knows that he needs to end whatever it is between the both of you to move on and be with her instead.
What is his plan?
Well, he didn’t think that far. But he’s gonna improvise.
Meanwhile, you’re left confused. J.0ne mentioned a party of a friend that just returned from Paris. And you just know it must be the same where you’re at right now. Which also means, j.0ne is friends with Hyunjin and way closer to you. Ever since you entered your friend’s apartment, you have started wondering who it could be.
Perhaps Yeonjun? No, he doesn’t seem like a video game type of guy. His personality in real life would differ too much from the one online.
What if it’s Hyunjin himself? Oh, God. That would be the plot twist of the century. But then again, you’ve never talked about the game Levanter with him despite it being super popular. You doubt he even has time to play video games when he’s busy with his art or dating all those women. Ugh.
Which leaves you with… Felix. What if it’s Felix, one of your brother’s friends? He’s cute, he’s on the server too as far as you know and it would match him. But hasn’t he been crushing on his gym coach for literal years? You’ve only talked to him a few times but since he’s so in-your-face with it, you couldn’t forget about this info.
So, this only leaves you with…
“Jisung, it’s your turn.”
No.
Oh, hell, no.
What if j.0ne has been Jisung all along?
Your vision instantly becomes dizzy but you try to focus on what’s happening right now.
“Truth,” the man in question replies.
Yeonjun chuckles, “Are you seeing someone right now?”
You can hear a few giggles echoing through the room. Sure, Jisung isn’t that experienced but there’s no need to make fun of him just for being a nerd.
You kind of feel bad for him. There’s already this huge weight of guilt that’s been laying on your shoulders since the semester opening party and your kiss with Chan. Although you know you shouldn’t be. It was Jisung who suggested the whole bet so he had seen it coming.
“I am, yeah,” he says with a smirk and the room goes dead silent.
“Wow, who’s the lucky one? Do we know her?” Yeonjun asks further.
You gulp, unsure how to categorise that tightening feeling inside your chest once again. You’ve got someone new. You’re over him if there was ever anything between the two of you. Move on.
But why did he react that way last night? And why did Chan behave so oddly too?
“You’ll meet my girlfriend soon, I’m sure.”
Jisung has…
Jisung has a girlfriend?
It’s that serious?
“Y/N, it’s your turn,” Soobin asks.
“What?”
“Truth or dare, Y/N?”
“Uhm, dare?”
You don’t even know why you chose that option. You’re usually not bold at all. Especially not in front of all these people. But maybe it’s better than revealing some messy secrets in front of Jisung. Although you’d love to provoke him back now. Sure, j.0ne and you aren’t a couple yet, but there’s nothing bad about exaggerating things right? And on top of that, it’s what you’re aiming for anyway, right?
However, now being so close to Jisung and him moving on, you don’t manage to be able to think clearly anymore.
“Show us the underwear you’re wearing tonight,” Soobin says with a grin. God, is he a thirteen year old teenager? If Jisung’s a pathetic nerd, you don’t know what that guy is.
“Fine,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. You curse yourself for wearing one of those black dresses again, but opt for pulling it down so you only reveal your bra and not your panties to all of them. You’re not gonna show what’s reserved for j.0ne to the whole group, after all.
Reaching for the fabric, you slide the material down just as much to present the red lingerie that’s covering your breasts. The glitter is pretty and you’re glad about your choice this time, feeling like the main character and totally forgetting about the fact that your friends are literally staring at your tits. It’s an odd feeling but you don’t mind for whatever twisted reason.
Until your eyes interlock with Jisung’s.
You’ve expected a bunch of emotions to be visible on his face.
Surprise. Disgust. Confusion. Even arousal.
But he seems shocked. Panicking, almost.
However, before you’re able to connect the dots, you’re pulling your dress back up again.
A few more rounds follow and then the bottle gets spun again. This time pointing at Jisung.
“Truth or Dare, Ji?” Hyunjin asks. You still don’t get in which order you’re playing this game since it feels as if it’s always a random person’s turn to propose that infamous question.
Jisung looks right into your eyes when he says, “Dare.”
Hyunjin—already quite intoxicated and a bit emotional for whatever reason you don’t know—replies, “I’m gonna spin the bottle again and then it’s Seven Minutes In Heaven for that person and you. Heaven being my storage room, sorry. Rent is expensive these days.”
You close your eyes, you don’t wanna see the disaster of Jisung going to the storage room with another person and at the same time you feel guilty for being jealous. You’ve got a new man. Why are you still thinking about your ex crush?
Well, to put it in perspective: Jisung and you have never talked anything out between the two of you. Neither the romantic feelings you have for him, nor the hatred or rivalry.
“Y/N.”
What?
You open your eyes and find the bottle pointing at you, all while your heart drops down. Your pulse is echoing through your body, making it hard to think rationally but some magic force brings you up to your feet. You follow Jisung down the hallway, whereas the whistles in the background coming from your friends decrease more and more in volume.
“I’m sure they’re gonna fuck,” you still hear Yeonjun giggle.
“It’s about damn time. God, I hope they don’t make a mess in my storage room.”
You shake your head and Jisung opens the door for you. The smirk on his face is wide, making your head spin and for whatever reason it lets a sensation erupt between your legs that definitely surprises you. Or it doesn’t, if you’re completely honest.
Silence. There’s silence in the room. You can still hear your own heartbeat and probably even Jisung’s that’s threatening to burst out of his chest. He’s so nervous and confused.
When he saw the glimpse of your underwear, he finally connected the dots. Sure, he’s had the idea before when the two of you were studying and in hindsight, it makes so much sense now.
You’re her.
Butt3rfly_baby must be you.
But what if there’s a slight chance that all of this is just a simple coincidence? The necklace, the lingerie, you being drunk while she was too, going to the same university, living in the same city. It would be too crazy to believe that you and her aren’t the same person, right?
Still, Jisung is left confused and nervous.
However, he’s got the greatest idea to figure out if his thesis equals the truth.
Meanwhile, you’re caught in the same dilemma, your thoughts running in circles at lightning speed, whereas you’re wondering when you’ll receive the award for being the idiot of the century.
How haven’t you realised sooner and how come, after a few drinks and being inside this cramped storage room with him, you finally count two and two together? Jisung having a friend who returned from Paris, him taking care of a drunk girl when you were drunk, going to the same university, living in the same city.
Perhaps you’ve known this whole time, subconsciously. And you were just too scared of the consequences.
There’s just one way to confirm the thesis inside your head. You’ve got the best idea to figure things out.
Fuck it, you think, before you get closer to him, your mouth only separated from his by a thin layer of air. You’ve been secretly waiting for this moment for years now, it’s embarrassing. But this is for science, right? If this all turns out to be a coincidence and j.0ne is another person, this is your way of ending things with Jisung.
“Do it, Han,” you whisper, a smirk on your face.
“Fuck it,” he curses, before he crashes his lips into yours.
Time stands still for what feels like eternity. His mouth is pressed against yours and for a moment you can’t breathe, until he starts moving. You haven’t kissed many people in your life, but you soon learn that there isn’t any feeling comparable in this world that’s ever gonna come close to the kiss you’re currently sharing with none other than Han Jisung.
Your academic rival since your childhood days.
Your brother’s best friend.
And perhaps the guy who’s made you come without touching you for a few too many times for months now.
The moans. The whimpers.
They sound just like him.
He’s him.
J.0ne must be Jisung. And you wonder how dumb you have been to not realise sooner.
Jisung surprises you when he takes the initiative and slips his tongue inside your mouth, soon finding your own. You fight for dominance, while your arms swing around his neck and pull him closer. It’s messy. It’s wild. It’s passionate. It’s indescribable.
His hands are attached to your waist, bringing you near him as if the room is getting smaller and smaller with every kiss you share.
“Touch me,” you tell him and he lets out a grunt.
Jisung’s fingers wander under your dress, pulling the fabric up and he reveals the matching panties to the bra you presented to the whole group earlier. It’s the same one that is part of most of the many nudes he’s saved on his phone from you.
None of you speaks out loud their thoughts, what you’ve realised, not wanting to ruin the mood. And it doesn’t even matter. After all, you don’t have much time here and it could be at any second that those Seven Minutes In Heaven will end.
So, Jisung lets his hand wander further and you spread your legs automatically. He chuckles, adoring how you follow suit without him having to tell you. It’s odd that you don’t talk but on the other hand you finally found a way to shut him up. And you’re so in trance, you wouldn’t do it any other way.
His fingertips are grazing over your lingerie while his gaze shoots down to where your bodies meet. He chuckles to himself, both because of the fact that he’s finally touching that pretty fabric that he’s been staring at on his phone for months now and because you’re so soaked, just for him.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, doll.”
Doll.
It’s him. Without a doubt.
Jisung pushes the material aside and a high pitched moan spills from your lips, when his fingers push your pussy lips apart, just to find your clit within seconds. At first, you’re surprised, since you know how inexperienced he is but then you realise—this man has been watching you touching yourself for weeks now, he must know your body quite well, knows what you get off to, what motions make you come.
Another whimper leaves your lips, volume slightly increasing, and Jisung is fast to place the palm of his other hand on your mouth, “Shhh, those sweet noises are only reserved for me, yeah?”
You close your eyes so he doesn’t see them rolling to the back of your head. You can feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter with every second, and when he pushes a finger into your aching hole as if he’s done this a thousand times before, you fully surrender.
“You’re so good for me, baby,” he whispers but you barely hear it.
It feels so fucking great. This whole scene. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. You’re so caught up in the moment, moans coming out of you but Jisung drowns them out, that you forget about everything.
Until you hear a voice from the other side of the door.
“Y/N? Are you in there?”
Minho.
Why is your brother back and why’s he looking for you?
Jisung and you come to a halt and he’s fast to pull out and away from you, before he’s adjusting your underwear and sliding back down your dress.
“Answer me, Y/N,” you brother repeats, his voice filled with anger. “Are you in there with Jisung?!”
© leeknowsallyoursecrets 2024 — copying, stealing or translating my work is prohibited
#han smut#jisung smut#han jisung smut#stray kids fic recs#skz fic recs#stray kids fic rec#skz fic rec#han fic recs#jisung fic recs#han jisung fic recs#han fic rec#jisung fic rec#han jisung fic rec#stray kids smut#skz smut
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🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter XI
pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung
summary: minho is alive and someone finally gets retribution. it's the start of the rest of their lives
word count: 19k
warnings: violence, blood, evil guy death; drinking; mentions of anxiety and cptsd symptoms (they went through it, okay?); some (unprotected) smut! a happy end <3 yay!
author's note: by all laws of storytelling this chapter is too long, but I could not care less. I wanted some gratuitous sweetness after all the pain. also I thought about splitting this up into another chapter but I figured I tortured you with enough cliffhangers akshdhas so enjoy!! the last official chapter before our epilogue <3 thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. thank you to everyone who commented, who messaged me, who took the time to read <3 thank you for loving my baby <3 it means the world
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
series masterlist // skzms masterlist
< chapter X - interlude (& epilogue coming friday, may 24 at 3pm CET) >
You meet Felix’s eyes as Changbin shoves him behind him, out of harms way, and there’s nothing but sunshine; tears of joy and a brilliant, blinding smile. He nods at you, as if to say this is exactly what I meant, and you have to fight back a sob.
The thought of everyone else having seen you, what they will think, after all these years, Minho, and your secret barely a secret at all – this and the realisation that Jisung said Minho is alive, the feeling of your whole life spinning out of control, it will have to wait. Because Han Yujun is in there, and there are more guards now. Way more. Ten of them against the maybe eight of you. And these ones look more serious, less like young men with no experience to speak of.
Chan’s eyes are locked onto them already, rolling his shoulders as he readies himself for the fight. Hyunjin has found Jisung’s other side as he cocks his gun, squeezes his arm with a smile, mouthing something to him that looks like a thank god you’re okay.
The first guy approaches and Hyunjin lifts his gun, shoots him point-blank. He sinks to the floor right in front of the next one, that Jisung takes care of just as quickly, swiping at his legs and driving his cutlass into his chest when he crumples to the floor. One goes down from the force of your elbow alone, another falls victim to Felix’s blade, who squeals and turns to Changbin excitedly when he realises he got one. Changbin doesn’t look proud at all, he’s white as a sheet as he tugs Felix back behind him.
Hyunjin strikes another one down with a practised hand and a toss of his hair and his companion drops his weapon, lifts his hands and hightails it down the path toward the gate. Hyunjin watches him, perplexed, then turns to you and raises an eyebrow in question. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. You shake your head.
“Let him go, he’s not worth it. He’ll probably get intercepted by the captain’s men anyway.”
Chan deals with the next two at once, a cutlass in one hand, his short knife in the other. His knife into the one’s throat, his cutlass into the chest of the other. He wipes the bloody blade on his pants as he scoffs.
“If we’d known his men were this shit, we could’ve done this ages ago.”
The last three fall equally easily, and you don’t wait for more to come, push forward until you find yourself in the cool, marble foyer. In here, it’s so quiet it’s almost eery, the noise of fighting only a dull din from somewhere seemingly far away. The house seems mostly abandoned. Though you have a feeling Han Yujun is still here, holed up somewhere, clutching onto hope and all his money that he’ll somehow make it out of this alive. But you know better. You take a second to survey the scene. A hallway to your right, a sitting room with more doors to your left, a stairway right in front of you.
“His office is upstairs,” Jisung offers next to you. You look at him with a question in your eyes, and he nods.
“Changbin, take Felix and check the left wing,” you order, “Hyunjin, Chan, take the right. Someone else check the basement, and as many of you as possible find all the exits and guard them. Han Yujun can’t escape us today. Jisung and I will check upstairs.”
Changbin takes Felix’s hand, mumbles something to him about staying behind him, before he makes his way down the hallway. Hyunjin salutes you quietly, and he and Chan enter the sitting room with their weapons drawn. Two of your crew stay by the front door, the rest of the group disperses.
You look at Jisung, meet his gaze where it’s already locked onto yours. It makes sweet adrenaline rush through your veins. You motion for him to follow you upstairs and hurry up the stairwell, taking two steps at a time.
“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight again, you’re dead wrong,” you mumble, and he chuckles behind you, bright and airy and happy, and it makes you stop at the top of the stairs, turn around in shock. Something heavy squeezes your chest because, of course, Minho isn’t there, but it’s soothed over by Jisung’s beautiful, radiant smile. And there is hope. You can’t help but feel it, despite it all.
“Don’t ever let me out of your sight again, please,” Jisung chirps, hurries up to meet you, wraps his muscular arms around your waist and pulls you in, “I’m way too in love with you for that.”
Butterflies, in your stomach, so many that you can barely breathe – in the middle of the biggest fight of your entire life, on the day you started thinking everyone you loved was dead, when you were prepared for this day to be your last. Jisung giggles sweetly, pulls you closer against his strong chest, presses wet hot lips in the shape of a smile against the side of your neck. He’s the most magical, most insane, most lovable person you’ve ever met, and you realise now that you’ll never be the same again.
A guard spots you, then, yells, comes barreling down the hallway. Jisung doesn’t hesitate. He unfolds himself from you casually, parries two of his opponent’s attacks before he sinks his cutlass into him, and he slumps to the ground.
“Where were we?” he asks, giddily, eyes sparkling with mischief as he stalks up to you, crowds you against the wall until his breath is on your face.
“Jisung, we can’t be messing around. Not today,” you breathe, though your eyes are glued to his lips, no doubt betraying every ounce of your blind, desperate want. Damn him.
“There’s no way we aren’t winning today, captain,” he purrs, smiles again, brushes his lips against yours in a breath of a kiss, “there’s nowhere for him to run. So let’s have some fun.”
And you’re about to give in, let him kiss you breathless in your arch enemy’s house, but fate has a different plan. Five more of Han Yujun’s men come barrelling down the hallway and this time, much to your chagrin, you have to fight in earnest. One of them catches your arm, adds a second cut to the one already there, and it drives tears into your eyes. But you don’t stop, wave away Jisung’s concerned look, focus on fighting your way down the hallway and manage to kill the last one right before it forks.
Your breath is coming out in short bursts as you gather your bearings. Your arm aches, your lungs burn. You have the choice now, between left and right. Right leads you down a hallway with few doors, at the end of which there’s an open glass door that leads out to a French balcony that’s facing out into the garden, curtains billowing in the wind. The other direction leads deeper into the house, culminating in two heavy oak doors, very similar to the ones in Trott’s house.
“That’s his office,” Jisung comments with a nod towards the ominous doors. You nod and realise that this is really it. You wonder if you’ll still be able to do what needs to be done when it comes down to it, now that Jisung is alive. But you have to. For them.
You look at Jisung, give him a tense smile.
“Shall we?”
Jisung smiles, then his face pulls into the pout of determination you know and love so well. He extends his hand, takes yours, and you make your way down the hallway.
Suddenly, a thump sounds behind you, then a curse and a voice that you would recognise anywhere, anytime.
“Sung–“
The call of Jisung’s name is cut off. Your heart stops, and for a painful second, you wonder if it will give out.
You’re frozen where you are, unable to turn around. You can’t face it, you can’t be wrong. You wouldn’t survive it. You’re distantly aware of Jisung’s worried eyes on you, his gaze flicking between you and …
“Y/N?” Minho says, and there’s no longer any doubt in your mind.
You turn around slowly, your ears ringing as you let your eyes drag over the carpet and up and up, until you see him.
Minho. It’s undoubtedly him. Breathing. Shaky. Alive. His old, brown leather boots with the big silver buckle. Strong thighs in his black pants. A white v-neck shirt you don’t recognise exposing his flushed, heaving chest. Blood on his sleeves, hair swept back like he was in a hurry.
You suck in a breath. One of his eyes is covered with a black eyepatch. But the other one looks at you, the same way he always did. Does.
Your shaky legs move towards him. He doesn’t approach you, just stares, his eyebrows lifted in an expression that is almost helpless.
You stop a cautious few feet in front of him, like getting any closer would shatter the mirage. But you can see the little birthmark on his nose, smell the unmistakable smell of him, can almost feel him on your skin. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape.
“You’re alive,” you mutter, blink, eyes roving all over his face.
He nods, helplessly, his eyes, his eye glued to yours. So soft. So scared.
“T-the gunshot,” you breathe, but your voice gives out. A tremor wracks through your body, and you see Minho’s hand twitch to reach out, before he drops it again.
“They shot into the sky. They wanted you to think I was dead.”
You let out something between a laugh and a sob, though there are no tears. You feel wrung dry, empty, soulless. Minho shivers. His hand reaches out, again and this time, he doesn’t pull back. He runs a fingertip over the sleeve of your coat. Doesn’t look at you when he forces out his next words.
“I heard you scream.”
You blink, watch his eyebrow twitch, his mouth pulls into a grimace of pain. It’s too much, it’s unbearable. The memory of it, the knowledge of it, the thought of him dead, the weight of every single minute of the last weeks. Now, the fact that he’s here. A flesh and blood reminder of all you thought you lost. It’s too much, it’s too–
“What happened to your eye?” you ask, your voice only a ghost of itself. Minho lifts his head until his gaze finds yours again and punches a breath clean out of you with how much love it holds. Though this time, there’s no more kraken that roars, riots, threatens to burst out of your skin. There’s only honeysuckle sweetness and a longing that you don’t know how you managed to keep locked away for so long.
“The guy got me just right, I think his ring cut my retina,” he shrugs, “pretty sure it’s fucked. But I’ve gotten used to it already, doesn’t hu-”
“I love you.”
You breathe the words into the space between you, and Minho reels back like he has been punched straight in the chest. His next breath comes out in a stutter. He’s so beautiful.
“I’ve always loved you, I think,” it tumbles out of you, unable to stop now that you’ve finally said it.
“Y/N …” Minho chokes out. He takes a step forward, cups your face. His hands are shaking. He’s looking at you, staring into your eyes like he’s searching for something, like he doesn’t quite believe your words. You feel half crazed.
“I do, Min,” you choke out, “I do, I love you. I love you so much. I–“
When he leans in, he doesn’t even have to pull you because you meet him halfway. His lips find yours, trembling as he kisses you so desperately, you gasp into his mouth. Your tongue is heavy with emotion when it tangles with his, kissing him like you’re tasting him for the first time. He pulls back only enough to stare down at you, his trembling breath against your lips.
“I love you, too, baby, oh god, I love you so much,” he forces out the words like they hurt. He looks so disbelieving, so sure yet so unsure, like he doesn’t know how he has found his way here, and you don’t know what to do because he’s alive and breathing and you get another chance, another chance to make it right, another chance you don’t fucking deserve.
You pull him back into your lips and, of course, he matches you perfectly, swallows your desperate whine when you shove him backwards, crowd him against the wall. He takes it, pulls you even closer, buries his hand in your hair, then flips you, so your back is against the wall, tilts your head, kisses you deeper. It’s you and him, it’s just like every other time, except it’s not – because you can finally feel and your poor, broken heart beats to the tune of he’s here, he’s alive, he’s here, he’s alive.
He pulls back when there is no more air, pants against your lips, makes a tortured little sound in the back of his throat as his fingers curl around your neck, dig into the soft skin. He’s blinking rapidly, his mouth open like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out, only a disbelieving huff.
Someone yells outside, there’s a gunshot, then another. The sounds rip through the atmosphere around you and Minho and shatter it like glass, a brutal reminder of where you are, what you have yet to do.
You close your eyes again, just for a moment, basking in the way Minho’s breath fans over your lips, breathing it in greedily. But you can’t help but feel like there’s something missing. Some_one_ missing.
You blink your eyes open and find Jisung where you left him. He’s staring at you, and he looks awed, but he also looks so, so sad, his arms wrapped around himself almost protectively.
“I can leave if you want,” he croaks out, the sound of it tinny and brittle in the big, empty hallway. He takes an uneven step back, closer to the hallway that leads back to the stairs, like he’s ready to run.
Minho sighs softly, leans against you, his thumb softly running up the side of your neck. You don’t need to look at him to understand.
He scoffs at the same time as you reach out your hand.
“Why the fuck would we want that?” you laugh out.
Jisung’s shoulders fall, he sniffles, and then he’s running up to you, flinging himself into your and Minho’s arms with all his might, burying his face in Minho’s chest and pulling you until you’re both pressed against him, until the three of you are all but squeezed together, in the middle of the hallway in Han Yujun’s house. Over Jisung’s mop of brown hair, you meet Minho’s gaze, and he looks so happy it makes you almost sick with joy. He presses a soft little kiss into Jisung’s hair and Jisung laughs, his shoulders shaking where’s buried between you.
Then he lifts his head, gives Minho a cheeky look, despite the single tear that runs down the pink apple of his cheek that Minho traces with his eye.
“She said it to me first, you know. So at least I have that,” he teases, and Minho blinks at him in disbelief before he barks out a laugh, softly removes one of his hands from you to catch Jisung’s chin between his hands.
“I love you, too, even though you’re a pain in my ass.”
Jisung beams, his whole face splitting into a beautiful heart-shaped smile. He nuzzles his chin further into Minho’s hold, tips his head up happily.
“I love you, too, you grumpy old cat,” he hums, before his expression turns cheeky, “and you wish I would finally be a pain in your ass. I’ll have you know I’m very good at it.”
The sudden laugh that bubbles out of you feels misshapen and odd, like your body is out of practice – but it warms you from the inside and it feels right. More right than anything you have ever felt in your life.
Minho’s gaze is fond and so, so soft as he looks from Jisung to you. But when the sound of a scuffle comes from downstairs, his expression hardens into a regretful scowl.
“We should get this over with,” he hums, blinks at the big doors down the hallway before looking back down at Jisung, then you.
“Be careful, okay? No sudden moves or decisions. We take no risks. If he moves, we pull the trigger.”
Minho waits until Jisung nods, then you. Then he dips down, presses a sweet kiss to Jisung’s lips, then yours. When he pulls back, he momentarily stops, blinks, a quiet kind of disbelief in his pretty eyes. But it disappears as quickly as it came, and he refocuses and steps back.
Jisung unfolds himself from you hesitantly, follows Minho’s eyes to the doors. He swallows.
“There’s a gun in the top left drawer of his desk, so don’t let him reach it,” Jisung explains. His brows are furrowed in concentration.
“In a situation like this, he wouldn’t be alone. Probably has at least one of his closest guards with him, if not two. And they’re ruthless, they won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes. So we need to act fast.” Minho nods, and Jisung looks at you.
“We’ll go in first. Minho, keep your gun drawn. Shoot him if you have to. I’ll go for the guard, if there’s only one, then you can–“
His sentence is interrupted by the faraway crack of a gunshot, the sound of glass shattering, something heavy hitting the floor and a yelp and then the heavy doors at the other end of the hallway fly open and Han Yujun, in all his half-bald, pot-bellied glory nearly falls flat on his face as he rushes out the door – only to be met by the three of you.
Minho moves in the blink of an eye, shoves you half behind him, draws his gun, and Jisung takes the few steps forward needed to block his uncle’s path.
Han Yujun freezes, pales, turns on his heels and makes back for his office and Minho takes off running, closely followed by both you and Jisung.
Han Yujun reaches his office first, tries to rush in and slam the door behind him, but Minho manages to shove his foot in the door just in time. He shoulders it open so hard it sends Han Yujun sprawling on the floor with a scream. Minho is on him within seconds, wrestling him until his face is pressed into the carpet. Yujun puts up a fight, writhes, and resists and spews curses, but Minho is stronger.
“Get off me, you disgusting pirate,” he squeaks, though his voice betrays his fear. He tries to free himself again, and Minho loses his temper. He drives his boot into Han Yujun’s ribs and he howls. Jisung next to you scoffs.
You let your eyes roam around the room, and you don’t have to look far for to find the reason for all the noise and Han Yujun’s panicked flight – a man in his guards’ uniform lies lifeless on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. There’s a neat hole in the side of his head. You leave him where he is. There’s nothing the living can do for him any more.
“Jisung, help me,” Han Yujun wails behind you, and it’s so fake it makes you sick. There’s a dull thud and a groan. You don’t have to look to know that Jisung put his fist into his face.
“Why would I help you?!” Jisung growls.
Behind the big, heavy desk, one of the panels of the windows is shattered. Cautiously, you step closer to the window and when you look down into the garden, behind a stone railing, amidst the bright pink English roses, your eyes meet Sungjin’s. Your former Captain’s best marksman. Of course.
You nearly laugh when he shoots you a smirk and a thumbs up.
By the time you turn around, Minho has managed to tie Han Yujun’s hands behind his back and is hoisting him to his feet. Jisung is watching from where he’s leaned against his uncle’s desk, arms crossed over his chest, a sour look on his face. Minho pulls his gun from his holster and digs it into Han Yujun’s back, hard.
“Let’s take a walk,” he growls and meets your eyes, wordlessly asking you to lead the way.
And you do. You leave the room first, followed by Minho, who’s guiding a bound Yujun with the barrel of his gun. Jisung marks the end of your procession, his hand on his knife, ready to strike any second. The distant sound of fighting all over the carefully kept grounds is still ringing through the eerily empty halls of the house.
Your mind is eerily calm here, right on the precipice of everything you’ve ever wanted.
You meet Changbin and Felix as you descend the stairs. Felix’s eyes go wide when he sees you, his glassy gaze locked behind you.
“Minho,” he gasps, and you think there may be tears in his eyes. Changbin is staring up at the three of you with wide eyes, one hand curled against his rapidly rising and falling chest, like he’s trying to hold it together.
You chance a look behind you, find Minho there, giving them a small smile, though his hands never falter on the gun pressed to Jisung’s uncle’s back, even when Hyunjin and Chan come hurrying down the right hallway and Hyunjin goes white as a sheet when he sees Minho.
As calmly as you can, you motion for them to keep calm, to follow you as you push through the front doors, into the blazing afternoon sunlight. You walk through the courtyard, where the water is still trickling down the fountain, down the path, past the azalea bushes until you’re in the front part of the yard.
There’s fighting going on all around you, clumps of your and the Captain’s men dotted around, fighting Han Yujun’s guardsmen, though their numbers are small, and they are uncoordinated and clumsy. You see some men from the town fighting among the pirates, wild and uncoordinated in their rage, but encouraged and helped along by the pirates. There must be more fighting around the back of the house, the sounds of which have been ringing in your ears this whole time; knives meeting, guns going off.
But you don’t pay any of it any mind. Soon it won’t matter any more.
You allow yourself a moment of melodrama, walk to the centre of the garden calmly, without looking behind you, left or right. But you’re hyperaware of the others behind you, their regular footsteps, and the fighting around you that becomes quieter, the whispering and the people that approach. You can feel their eyes on you when you stop in the centre of the garden, somewhere halfway between the front gate and the courtyard; in perfect view of everyone, both the ones fighting and the gaggle of onlookers that has gathered at the gates, looking in through the tall fences. This feels like a good place for the end of it all.
Hyunjin, Chan, and Felix form a loose circle around you, knives drawn. Jeongin and Seungmin join them. You see your men approach, Minho’s name falling from some of their lips with desperate sighs of relief. The air is electric with tension, anticipation.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see your old Captain, Sungjin, more of his crew, some you know and some you don’t.
Minho lets go of Han Yujun pushes him closer to where you’re waiting, before he comes to stand behind you. His presence right there, only an arm’s reach away, soothes you more than you can describe. Jisung makes his way behind you, too, takes the spot on the other side so naturally as if he has always been there.
You feel invincible. You look down at the man below you.
Han Yujun stares at you, tries his best to be intimidating, but he makes a pitiful sight. His thinning hair is badly mussed, exposing his sunburned scalp and the spotty skin of his forehead. His face is pink and flushed and his eyes are small and cold, and they glimmer like a cornered animal’s. His chest heaves with a phlegmy breath. God, he makes you sick.
“Han Yujun,” you finally say. You let the words drop from your lips, calmly, coldly. You have all the time in the world now. “Do you know why you’re here today?”
Han Yujun scoffs, takes his time to look around at his audience, seemingly unfazed that they all stare at him with hatred. The Captain’s face is impassive, though you see it in his eyes. Changbin doesn’t even pretend to hide his disdain. There’s a cold, vicious smile on his face, more hateful than you’ve ever seen him before. But you understand. Han Yujun killed his little sister when she was only a child. Felix by Changbin’s side calmly wraps a hand around his arm.
“A public execution of a government official,” Han Yujun muses, his voice a lot more pompous than you thought he was capable of in a situation like this. He tugs at his restraints, but it’s futile. “You’ll hang for treason!”
He meets your eye, looking much too smug, given that his hands are literally tied behind his back. But you don’t bite, just look back at him steadily, coldly, until he starts fidgeting.
“I’m glad you know you’re going to die, that saves us all a lot of time,” you finally say, a deadly sweet smile on your lips.
Apparently not deadly enough because Han Yujun puffs up, takes a step towards you.
“Well, I can’t believe that really is your plan. I heard a lot about you, captain Y/N, but I never pegged you for a fool,” he singsongs, as he takes another step closer, staring into your eyes so intensely, with such a repulsive curiosity and self-satisfaction, it makes your fingers twitch at the handle of your knife.
“Let’s get me out of these ties, sit down,” he purrs, takes another step, his breath hitting your face now. Nobody dares to move. Changbin looks like he wants to intervene, tries to tug his arm free, but Felix won’t let him. “Maybe we can come to an agreement.”
You stand your ground, bile rising in your throat as he comes closer and closer, but you refuse to budge. Your shoulders are so tense, you start trembling.
He licks his lips, leans in as if to whisper into your ear, but before he can get any closer, Minho barrels past you.
He plants his boot in the middle of Han Yujun’s chest and shoves him so hard he flies backwards a few feet, crashing into the ground with a pained yell.
“You don’t fucking touch her, you understand?” Minho growls, his eye dark with rage as he stalks towards him. He brings his foot down onto Han Yujun’s throat, presses down until the man is gasping and whimpering. “You try something else, and you will meet Davy Jones with none of your limbs attached.”
Nobody dares move because his demeanour leaves no doubt that it’s not an idle threat. Minho throws a look back at you, his eye wild but soft, a quiet question if you’re okay, and you nod. Only then does he let up – but not before crushing his foot harder into Han Yujun’s windpipe, making him writhe and gurgle pathetically.
Minho turns and comes back to you, his arm brushing against yours as he returns to his spot behind you. Han Yujun is coughing and gasping on the floor, trying to regain his breath as he sits up, glares up at you. You wait patiently, every second calculated to allow him enough time to feel every second of your victory.
Han Yujun doesn’t attempt to get up again. You take a step towards him, your face still schooled into calm, but the hands crossed behind your back are shaking, against your will.
“Han Yujun, after we’re done with you, we will go into your house, and we will collect the evidence of everything you have done. Then we will deliver this to the crown, and they will find you guilty, convict you –of not only corruption, of price gauging, drug and human trafficking, prostitution and more, no – you will also be convicted of high treason, trying to stage a coup against the crown. Posthumously, of course,” you add sweetly, with a dangerous glint to your eyes.
Han Yujun’s eyes shake slightly. All around you, except for the sound of distant fighting, there’s silence. Your audience is glued to your lips.
“And then they will thank us. For sparing them having to dirty their noose with your vile, useless body.”
Han Yujun frowns.
“Why do you think you’ll find evidence of anything?”
Jisung on your left scoffs.
“Oh, please,” he laughs. It’s deadly cold. “I know you keep the records of all your above-board dealings in your office, and everything else under the floorboards in the drawing room. Third plank from the bookcase with the replica of the Victory, if I remember right?”
His uncle’s face swells, red rage rising to his cheeks as he glares at Jisung. There’s so much hatred in his gleaming little eyes, it sends a shiver down your spine.
“I knew from the day you were born that you would bring shame upon this family,” Han Yujun spits, “I saw that you were a little sissy when you were five. And then you grew up like this, like a degenerate,” he gives him a disgusted once-over, “and I told your father! I told him you’d never grow up to be a real man, would disappoint his entire bloodline, but he wouldn’t hear it.”
Jisung’s breath has gotten ragged, and you feel his intention to move before he even takes a step. You reach your hand out, motioning for him to stay back and to his credit, he does, though the shaky breath he takes in betrays how much it takes him.
“Now look at you. Leading these unwashed, murderous lowlives right to your own family. Do you have any idea how hard we worked to get here? What it took for us to get these positions?”
“I do,” Jisung presses out, his voice trembling with emotion, “I know what it took. Blood. Lies. Deception. Corruption. The destruction of neighbourhoods, the killing and displacing of innocent people. And Appa knew it, too. It’s why he wanted out. It’s why he took the risk. It’s why he’s fucking dead.”
Jisung brushes your hand to the side and takes a step forward. You let him.
“And you piece of shit didn’t do anything. You let them take him. And Eomma, too. Hell, for all I know you told them where to find them,” Jisung yells, drags his sleeve over his face.
His hand finds his holster, and he pulls his gun, cocks it, points it right at his uncle’s head. His breath is ragged, and his body is trembling, but his hand is awfully still. It doesn’t waver from where it’s pointed.
“Captain,” Jisung, addresses you, calmly. There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before.
“Permission to finally put us all out of our misery.”
You let your eyes wander over your audience, your crew, the townspeople, the other crew, familiar and unfamiliar faces, all waiting for the moment this finally ends. Your eyes meet the Captain’s. He holds your gaze.
“Captain?” Jisung asks again, and this time his voice audibly shakes. His other fist is balled at his side.
You can’t let Jisung wait any longer. You let your eyes rest on the back of his head and speak.
“Permission granted.”
A single beat of silence.
Then the gunshot rings clear over the grounds. Han Yujun’s dead body slumps back.
Another beat of silence.
Then the whole yard breaks out into deafening cheers.
It’s so loud, so sudden, so charged that it makes you flinch. You whip your head up to see men hugging each other, Hyunjin running to Minho to envelop him in a hug, the Captain, still looking at you, as calm as a statue surrounded by his cheering men, though there is a small proud smile on his lips. You nod to him and he nods back. It’s enough.
The only person who isn’t celebrating is Jisung. He’s still standing there, staring down at his uncle, his hand, that’s still holding the smoking gun, hanging limply by his side.
You approach him carefully, say his name softly. He barely turns his head. You inch closer, place a careful hand on his back, ever so gently rub it up and down. The muscles underneath your fingertips are so tense, they feel like they’re ready to snap.
“Jisung,” you breathe, low enough for only him to hear, “talk to me. Do you regret it?”
Jisung huffs out a laugh then, shakes his head, turns his head and meets your gaze with his big, beautiful, shining eyes. They’re full of tears. He tries to blink them away, and you wish you could tell him that you meant it when you said you never wanted him to hide them again, that you were ready to love every single one of them.
“God, no, that felt incredible,” he mumbles, wipes at his nose and sniffles, “I just think it’s so unfair that I will have to spend the rest of my life learning to live with what he has done. To everyone … but also to me.”
You hum, rubbing a thumb over the muscles in Jisung’s back soothingly, sliding your hand down until you can wrap your arm around him. He leans into you readily, folds his arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer.
“That’s what we all do every single day, so you’ll be in great company. But we have each other.”
Jisung blinks at you, then looks around, like he’s finally realising the celebration going on. He looks dazed. You squeeze him harder, and he rests his temple against yours.
You can’t help but smile.
“Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your life, Han Jisung.”
Minho watches over Hyunjin’s shoulder, as the captain and Jisung stand over the body of Han Yujun with their arms wound around each other. Hyunjin sobs, a wet, heartbreaking sound, and Minho pulls him closer, soothes his palm over Hyunjin’s narrow back, shushes him quietly.
Then another person wraps himself around his back, then another, and before he knows it, Minho finds himself enveloped by his crew, his friends, squeezing him, some smiling, some sniffling, some laughing and yelling his name in relief.
“Fuck, Min,” he hears Changbin mumble from where he’s wedged between Hyunjin’s back and someone else’s front, his hand coming up to ruffle Minho’s hair, “your eye! We really thought they got you.” Minho tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out right, half wedged in his chest that feels like it’s about ready to burst.
“I couldn’t let that happen, could I,” he jokes, quietly, “who else would take care of all of you idiots.”
Hyunjin chokes out something that’s half sob and half laugh and buries his face in Minho’s neck. Minho can feel his tears wet his skin.
“God, I hate you so much,” he whines, “can’t you just be serious for once?!”
Minho smiles softly, meets Changbin’s eyes again. He pats Hyunjin’s hair.
“Aw, Jinnie, but I am. I’ll always come back to you. You’re all I have.” Hyunjin starts sobbing for real then, and Minho thinks he can even see Changbin blink away some tears. There are more sniffles, whoever is wrapped around his back, he thinks it’s Jeongin, squeezes him harder. From somewhere to the side, he catches Seungmin’s eye, then his fist in his arm.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Seungmin mumbles. It’s obvious that he tries to be stern, but the tear escaping his eye betrays him. Minho grins at him, reaches out blindly to ruffle his hair.
Changbin laughs quietly, wipes at his eyes, before he claps his hands. He mumbles something to the effect of “let’s not suffocate him” and the gaggle around Minho slowly thins until there’s only Hyunjin in his arms, Jeongin plastered over his back. But eventually, even they are pulled away, Hyunjin by Chan, who lets Hyunjin latch onto his arm and hide his splotchy face in his sleeve3, and Jeongin by Seungmin, but not before Seungmin punches Minho’s shoulder again.
Minho doesn’t resist his disappointment when he’s finally free – he allows himself to feel that he could’ve stayed in that embrace for a lot longer.
But he’s also starting to notice the strange pirates loitering around, a tall, older one currently speaking to the captain, Jisung and Felix, who had found his way to them, glued to Jisung’s free side, hands intertwined, like he’s trying to hold on to him now that the captain stepped back. Like Jisung would disappear again otherwise.
Gently, he steps out of the group of his crew, giving them a gentle smile as he makes his way to the captain. She turns around when she hears his footsteps. When her eyes meet his, she blinks, looks a little disoriented for a split second, before her lips pull into a beautiful smile.
“Min,” she exclaims. A pang of love hits him so hard he’s nearly dizzy. It’s their nickname, what she breathes into his lips when he kisses her, what she exclaims with her unfairly sexy annoyed voice when he does something stupid and petty. But she had never, ever used it in public, in front of their crew, in front of a stranger, in front of everyone. He would’ve remembered. God, he would’ve remembered because it would’ve given him so much hope.
“May I introduce you to my captain?”
Her captain. She had mentioned him before, in passing, so briefly she may as well haven’t. And Minho hadn’t pried, had taken all the little pieces she had surrendered to him and built himself his own idea. She had to run, the captain took her in, taught her all she knew, given her her ship. He had imagined him serious, tough. Older, maybe a little brittle. He tries to reconcile this idea with the tall, older man in front of her. He’s dressed in all black and does look strong, and like he can be tough, but he’s smiling. He also wears the same uncanny expression in his intelligent eyes that the captain gets when she’s analysing him.
Minho steps forward, stiffly, tries his best to smile at the man, who studies him carefully. He gives a calculated, stiff bow.
“Lee Minho,” he offers, “the captain’s second in command.”
The tall pirate keeps his eyes on him, bores his gaze into Minho’s and Minho finds himself wishing stupidly, desperately for him to approve of him.
“Recently come back from the dead?”
Minho grimaces, but nods.
“Well,” the strange captain says with a gentle smile, “your crew filled your shoes well while you were gone.”
Minho blinks, but the stranger just laughs. It’s not an unkind laugh, but Minho finds himself bristling against his will. Felix throws him a look. He hates to be reminded of what he missed; The stranger, the captain’s former captain, a whole crew she probably knows, a whole lifetime without Minho, and now also two weeks of her, without him, without Jisung. He hates not knowing what happened, hates that she felt whatever she felt, and he wasn’t there to hold her through it, take some of it onto himself, anything to ease her pain.
The stranger nods at the captain.
“I’ll take my men, and we’ll see what we can find of value in this piece of shit’s house.”
“1542,” Jisung says. The strange captain whips around to him, raises an eyebrow.
Jisung shrugs with a lopsided smirk that is so infuriatingly hot it makes Minho want to kiss it off him. Jisung loops a casual arm around the captain’s waist.
“The combination to the safe in his office. It’s where he keeps most of his gold. There and in the top drawer of the armoire in the master bedroom. It has a false bottom.”
The man regards Jisung for a second, then bellows out a laugh.
“Thank you, Mr Han.”
Jisung grimaces, waves him off.
“Please, just … Jisung.”
The stranger sticks out his hand to Jisung, who shakes it proudly.
“Well, Jisung, I’ll make sure to buy you a drink in thanks later.”
Then, he turns to the captain.
“Because I’m sure there will be a celebration of what you have achieved here today.”
He gives the captain a wink.
“Anyway, you will excuse me.”
The captain nods, bows almost imperceptibly as the stranger walks off, waves to some of his crew to follow him into the house.
As soon as they’re alone, Felix sighs out and turns to the captain, who finds his gaze almost immediately. He watches quietly as Felix and the captain fall into each other’s arms, Felix wordlessly hooks his chin over the captain’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He rocks her back and forth soothingly, rubs a palm over her back, and she squeezes him back almost desperately. The stab of jealousy in his chest comes before he can stop it and remind himself that she … loves him. She loves him.
“It’s over now,” Felix whispers to her, and he sounds happy, but he also sounds … tired. Minho meets Jisung’s eyes, catches him also watching Felix and the captain with big, unblinking eyes.
And even when Felix steps back and the captain smiles at him and calls for the crew so they can make their way into the house – it’s like he suddenly can’t stop noticing how almost imperceptibly, but undeniably, everyone had changed. The bags under Felix’s eyes, the way he looks a little thinner than he did before as he follows behind the captain, who leads them into the house. Right behind Changbin, unshakeable, strong Changbin, who also looks so incredibly tired. Pale and nervous, an edge to his voice when he tells Felix to stay behind him, to be careful, one hand stretched out protectively in his direction, despite the relative safety of the house now that the rest of Han Yujun’s men are long gone, flown into the woods or to the harbour, or slaughtered by the waiting mob.
Hyunjin behind him is still sniffling, and there’s no indication of him stopping. Chan walks next to him, deep bags under his own eyes, his hand ready at the small of Hyunjin’s back as if he’s ready to catch him anytime.
Minho walks right behind the captain, Jisung by his side. He can’t, doesn’t want to allow himself to be any more than a single step behind her at all times. His good eye scans every room, every doorway, every single bend dark corner of the house, laser focused on anything that could possibly go wrong because the mere thought of losing her now … He can’t even bear the thought.
I love you, Min. The words play in his head over and over again, her voice so broken, yet so gentle, so full of sunshine and warmth and conviction as she said the words he had told himself he could live without ever hearing. And he told her he loved her, too, of course he did, because there was never a single shred of doubt in his mind about that. But it’s not enough. He hasn’t said everything else yet. So many years of his devotion, bottled up in his bruised, stretched out heart, ready to burst forth. He’s always been ready, but now he’s finally allowed to love her, her who has consumed his entire being, who is the best, kindest, strongest person he has ever met …
She who looks so, so fragile right now. Her voice is still clear and strong and full of authority as she gives her orders, her mind clear and her decisions immediate, but something about her is off. Maybe it’s just because he knows her so well, but her eyes look tired, and he can see how her shirt hangs more loosely on her tense shoulders. There’s also a tremor in her hand that wasn’t there before, and it drives him crazy. His fingertips burn with the need to touch her, to hold her hand until it stops shaking, to pull her into his arms, to get Jisung within reach again, to touch, and protect and love, God, love them with everything he has because he’s been a fool to ever think he was made for anything else. And he knows it’s safe now, he knows it’s over, but his body didn’t seem to get the memo because his body is thrumming with unnamed anxiety that makes him feel sick to his stomach.
He tries to catch Jisung’s eyes, but he slips away from him, the captain ordering him downstairs, to retrieve the papers from the secret stash he talked about. Jisung goes, though clearly unwillingly, flanked by Hyunjin and Chan, and with it goes the last shred of Minho’s sanity.
And then Minho is alone with the senseless dread buzzing in his veins. He remains stationed by the door, eyes glued to the hallway, ears straining for any sign of danger and deaf to anything else the captain and the crew say. He curses the fact that his eye is fucked, that he didn’t turn away when he should have because now he’s completely blind to anything happening on his left side, and it’s risky.
The thought alone makes his heartbeat thud in his ears so loudly that it makes every creak of the old house sound deafeningly loud and yet not loud enough, like he’s constantly one step behind, missing something crucial, like someone could jump out where he can’t see them or come barreling down the hallway, gun in hand, and he wouldn’t be able to judge how far away they are and fail to stop them and …
He only snaps out of it when they’re back outside in the setting sun, regrouping on the trampled grass of the now deserted yard, and Felix pulls him aside.
“Breathe,” Felix murmurs, squeezes Minho’s arm gently, then firmer, when Minho doesn’t respond, until Minho finally gulps down a breath of air, tears his eyes away from where he hadn’t even realised they were glued to the captain. He meets Felix’s worried gaze.
“Shit, sorry,” Minho mumbles, blinks. He tries to take a step back, but Felix doesn’t let him. His grip is firm and grounding. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m freaking out now. We won, didn’t we …”
Felix chuckles softly. He looks tired again. He rubs Minho’s arm comfortingly.
"There’s no timeline for this kind of stuff, Minho.”
Minho watches the captain a ways off, as she scribbles down the combination to the safe in her office so Jeongin can take the evidence back to the ship and stow it away safely. Felix follows his gaze.
“She’s okay.”
Minho shakes his head. He wants to shield his concern in something less vulnerable, but he doesn’t have the strength to find any fake words, so he just asks.
“Was it bad?”
Felix looks at him, eyes searching his for a few seconds before he sighs.
He tells him about it all, then, as they make their way away from Han Yujun’s house, down the loud, winding streets, filled with locals and children who run from house to house, cheer and celebrate and run to bring them gifts, ones they try to deny but can’t because they insist, tears of gratitude in their eyes.
The air of celebration can do nothing to soothe the lancing, aching pain that blooms in Minho’s chest when Felix finally tells him everything he had been so desperate to hear, though Minho can tell he’s sparing him the most gruesome details. Minho lets him; He’s more fragile than he cares to admit. Felix tells him how, when they heard the gunshot, the captain had screamed and screamed, that it had felt like she would never stop, before she collapsed into a feverish daze, mumbling and sobbing so hard she could barely walk. Tells him, with reverence, how gently Chan had picked her up, cooed sweet nothings to her as he held her, rocked her back and forth in an effort to stop her from crying. How pale Jeongin had been as he said that she shouldn’t be alone, that he could stay with her, but how Seungmin had stepped forward to tell him not to be stupid, that they needed their lookout and their lookout needed rest, and how Felix had volunteered without even thinking, suggesting Jisung’s empty cot in his cabin for her to rest.
Felix paints so vivid a picture, it’s like Minho can see them all walk down the stairs, a quiet procession following Chan, with the captain in his arms, none of them ready to leave each other after what happened. He can picture them waiting outside, consoling each other, can see Chan gently place her on her feet in Felix’s cabin, Jeongin stepping forward, speaking softly, tears in his eyes as he takes her heavy boots and coat off, combs her hair carefully before he guides her into bed. And it hurts him so much it briefly blinds him.
He stumbles, and Felix’s hand shoots out, wraps around his arm immediately.
“Minho? Are you okay?” he asks, concern laced into his deep voice. Minho nods blindly, motions for him to go on.
“Are you sure? Do you really want me to continue?”
Minho nods again.
“I … need to know,” he says, forces his voice to steady and his gaze to meet Felix’s. Because he does. He can’t stand not knowing.
So Felix takes Minho’s hand, and he tells him about how she had calmed down slightly with the smell of Jisung lingering around her, but how Felix had refused to leave her. How he had spent that night with her, and how they had found their way back into Jisung’s cot night after night afterwards, how they cried in each other’s arms. How the whole crew had made a meticulous plan, swallowing their own pain as best as they could so that even when the captain came to, marched onwards, set her jaw and steeled herself and kept going, on and on to Han Yujun’s demise, she never had to be alone. And God, their pain. Felix just keeps talking, how Changbin wasn’t able to keep his food down for three days after it happened until Chan started cutting all his meals so small it was basically mush. How drunk Jeongin got one night, threatening to throw himself off the top until Seungmin, fear of heights be damned, climbed up to him and held him through his tears. How Felix was barely able to keep himself on his feet for long enough to cook for them all, but how every day, there were at least 4 of them that found their way into the kitchen, taking Felix’ every order, helping him chop vegetables and stir potatoes and ensured there would be dinner on the table.
Minho’s chest feels like it’s ready to burst. It’s not like he thought the crew didn’t care about him but – he knows what he’s like. He knows he’s callous and short-tempered. He says things he doesn’t mean and lashes out instead of talking about what bothers him. Most days, he figured, the only reason they kept him around was because he was good with a sword, because he protected them. And he was fine with that.
But now, with Felix’s small hand in his, his tired eyes vouching for the truth of all the pain Minho’s supposed death had caused – Minho realises that maybe, just maybe, he’s more loved than he thought. And the knowledge threatens to overwhelm him.
And then there’s the captain, the crew. How closely they all stuck together, cared for each other, picked up the slack whenever one of them couldn’t go on any more. He knew they were strong together, but God, despite it all, the captain, the crew – none of them had been truly alone.
Felix looks at him with a soft smile.
“You would’ve been proud,” he sighs, and Minho wonders if somewhere along the way he learned how to read minds. “Chan and Changbin took turns sleeping at night, so one of the could stand guard at our door, even while we were at sea. Just in case we needed anything. Hyunjin and Chan refused to leave her side, even when the strange captain glared at them when he was trying to talk to her.”
Minho opens his mouth, but no words come. It’s like he has been wrung dry, and what he does feel is too much, too big for words now. He blinks at Felix with tears beading in his lashes.
“We really need you, Min,” Felix mumbles, quietly, “not just the captain needs you, not just Jisung. We all do. It nearly killed us when we thought we lost you.”
Minho chokes out a laugh, and before he can overthink it, he pulls Felix into a hug. Felix yelps in surprise, but he wraps his lithe arms around Minho’s middle and squeezes hard.
“Thanks, Lix,” he mumbles, “for … for everything.” For taking care of her. For loving him. For loving all of them. For being a part of the crew. All of that and more is what he wants to say, but he can’t get it out.
Felix wraps his arm tighter around Minho, nuzzles his nose into his shoulder, and Minho can’t help but smile.
“Thanks for coming back,” he mumbles back.
Minho pulls back, chuckles awkwardly as he wipes some stray tears away. Felix grins at him.
“Who knew you could be so soft, hm?”
Minho rolls his eyes, cuffs him in the shoulder so hard Felix squeaks, and keeps walking.
“Or I guess I know who knows …” Felix sing-songs, puts a little skip in his step, dodges Minho’s next playful fist, “two people, to be exact.”
Minho’s blush races up to the tips of his ears embarrassingly quickly.
“Shut up …” he mumbles. It’s looming, but he can’t handle thinking about the implications of everyone knowing about them right now.
“It’s okay, Min,” Felix hums, and throws an arm around his shoulders. They’re approaching a tavern at the end of the street, golden light streaming through its windows into the already golden light of the waning day, the gaggle of people, men, women, children, that has been following them through town, having only grown, and now weaving together with the crowd already waiting in front of the tavern, waving them in with loud cheers.
Felix nudges his shoulder with his own.
“Before it all went down, when Jisung disappeared into the captain’s quarters every day … Hyune and I … well, we may have spoken to the crew. Primed them, let them know just how serious things might get between you three.”
Minho’s ears burn hotter. He wants to hide.
“For all you knew, it could’ve just been a casual thing. A temporary thing.”
Felix scoffs, raises an eyebrow that makes Minho’s ears burn hotter.
“As if anything could ever be casual with you and the captain involved. Everyone can see it every time you look at each other. And then they could see it when you looked at Jisung.”
Minho cringes, tries to shake Felix off again, but he just grins, clearly very pleased with himself.
“Don’t worry about it! Hyune and I were able to clear up some questions, get them used to the idea. They were a little weirded out about the idea at first, but now nothing stands in your way.”
“Get them used to the idea of what exactly?” Minho asks, cautiously, his heart beating in his throat. Felix shrugs, casually, almost carelessly, as if nothing could break his mood now.
“Whatever you want it to be. You and the captain, the captain and Jisung, hell, you and Jisung.”
Minho looks at him, and it must be written all over his face because Felix throws his head back and laughs. Minho blushes hard, groans.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t mess with you after the day you’ve had. And with your fucked up eye and all. Yes, Min, also you and the captain and Jisung … all together, the three of you, in whatever arrangement.”
Minho lets out a shaky breath, shaking his head.
“I don’t … I don’t think I can even think about that right now,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Felix, but Felix just nods, drags him faster towards the tavern.
“Then don’t! Let’s just celebrate tonight! Let go, let loose. With the knowledge that they’re yours– ”
He stops, gives Minho a look.
“They are yours, right? Because the captain and Jisung …”
Minho can’t help the crooked grin that slips into his lips. Felix squeals, slips his cold hands into Minho’s.
“God, I’m so happy for you. We’ve all been waiting for this day for so long, you have no idea!”
He’s beaming so wide that the last of Minho’s resolve melts easily. Felix laughs, turns and tugs Minho closer to the tavern doors.
“And all the more reason to celebrate!” he yells before he drags him through the doors.
As soon as they step into the tavern, they’re welcomed with cheers and drinks on the house by the barkeep, who immediately uncorks a whole barrel of rum and sends the boy for the local band to come and play music. Minho watches as the captain gets whisked away into the crowd of people and is about to follow her when someone slings an arm over his shoulder and drags him to the bar. He loses sight of Felix immediately.
“She’ll be okay by herself for a moment, Minho,” Changbin laughs, rum already heavy on his breath. “Let’s get you a drink and make a toast!”
Hyunjin and Chan are already at the bar, greeting Minho with a chuckle when they see him throwing looks at the captain, and he blushes too deeply. The fact that they know about it all is still … something Minho has to get used to.
Changbin motions to the barkeep, who slides two glasses of rum over to them. Changbin doesn’t waste any time, shoves one into Minho’s hand.
“To you and Jisung coming back from the dead!”
“We didn’t …”
Chan claps Minho on the back so hard, he nearly chokes on his spit.
“We thought you were! For two whole weeks! We had to scrape our captain off the floor, too. So for all intents and purposes, for us, you came back from the dead!”
Minho grimaces, feels a prickle of anxiety on the back of his neck and he turns again. The captain is on the other side of the tavern, surrounded by locals and other pirates who are talking to her. There’s a drink in her hand and Minho wonders if someone got it for her, if it’s safe.
A man comes up to her, tears in his eyes, stuttering and stumbling over his words as he thanks her. Minho can see her tense shoulders, her helpless hands, the sheer disbelief on her features as she tries to calm him down. When another man comes up to shake her hand, loudly praising her as their saviour, he can see her neck flush harder. The anxiety alleviates a little, and he can’t help the small smile that pulls at his lips. She deserves this.
Hyunjin nudges him, draws his attention back to them, and nods at his glass.
He feels himself blush, but ignores it. He raises his glass with an exaggerated, fake sigh.
“Alright then, to me and Jisung coming back from the dead!”
Hyunjin, Chan and Changbin raise their glasses with a cheer.
“We came back from the dead?” Jisung’s voice comes from behind Minho.
When he turns around, there he is, with Felix, Jeongin and Seungmin in tow, appearing in front of Minho like a vision of honeyed, glistening skin and happiness. The smile on his face is unreal, and Minho wonders, not for the first time, and definitely not the last, how he does it, when Minho’s heart feels like it’s struggling against the weight of the years every time it beats.
He effortlessly threads his arm into Minho’s, rests his fingers on his wrist. Minho’s ears burn hotter, the embarrassment and affection mixing into a dangerous cocktail of feelings.
Hyunjin sighs dramatically and leaves Chan’s side, only to collapse into Jisung’s free side, letting his head drop onto his shoulder.
“You have no idea what we went through when the captain came back without you. She nearly went out of her mind when she had to leave you behind.”
Jisung’s lips pull into a pout.
“I told her it would be fine …”
Minho scoffs. Pain lances through him. Regret.
“I did, too. She didn’t like that.”
He can still hear her sobbing, gasping for breath behind a locked door that he was about to kick down when Changbin found him and dragged him away.
Seungmin sends him a glare.
“You were being an asshole about it,” he quips, “and you were clearly worried, you were white as a sheet. You were just trying to play it off.”
Jisung scrapes his nails over the sensitive skin of Minho’s wrist, and Minho shivers.
“Aw, were you worried about me? That’s so sweet, Minho,” he singsongs, a teasing smile on his lips. Minho glares at him now, though he knows his eyes hold no edge. He long lost the ability to be rough to Jisung.
“Dumbass,” he grumbles, nonetheless, "of course I was. You’re not known for your sense of self-preservation.”
Jisung huffs, but his pout quirks up at the edges. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“Well, thank God I have such a strong pirate to protect me then,” he coos, nudges Minho, flutters his eyelashes up at him, so cutely Minho has to narrow his eyes by force, lest he melt on the spot. There was only one thing that flustered him more than Han Jisung, pettily and pointlessly angry at him, and that was Jisung, so brazenly, saucily flirting with him.
“You guys are disgustingly cute, even without the captain,” Jeongin sighs, “what even happened? How did you manage to find each other before we did?”
Minho sighs.
“It’s a long story.”
He empties his rum in one long drag and motions for the bartender to bring him another. Jisung’s fingers slip in between his, his thumb rubs over the back of his hand. Minho feels love singe him from the inside. He wants so badly.
“When they took me, after they made me kneel there and shot into the sky to make you believe I was dead, they dragged me into their hold and who do I see? Jisung, with a split lip, blood caked into his shirt, sulking in one of the cells. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw me, thought he was concussed, and I was a hallucination. And also nearly gave us away by getting too excited.”
“Excited?!” Jisung exclaims, indignant, “I was kidnapped, ready to be shipped back to my uncle to be killed and probably actually concussed because I broke Trott’s nose, and they beat me up, and in you walk, half your face smashed in, covered in blood. You scared the shit out of me!”
Minho can’t help the fondness that seeps into his eyes.
“I guess I looked pretty bad …”
“No offence to your gorgeous face, but you looked awful. I was so worried your eye was going to get infected,” Jisung says, pouting again.
Minho shrugs.
“So then we spent about a week locked in there, pretending not to know each other whenever someone came to check on us. Though in reality, we spent every waking second plotting our escape for when we were in Han Yujun’s cells. Jisung, once again, saving our asses with his incredible memory and the knowledge of his uncle’s business.”
Jisung straightens, preens under the praise. There’s a glint of pride in his eyes.
“My uncle has always been a cheapskate. I figured pretty much anything could pick the cheap locks on his basement cells, as long as it was long and thin enough. And conveniently enough, the cots we were sleeping on were just old wooden crates, with all sizes of nails hammered into them.”
Minho hums, turns back to their audience.
“But we knew that if we just escaped, we would likely not make it very far. And we knew it was only a matter of time before you would arrive.”
“How could you be so sure? Did you know we thought you were dead?”
Minho falters for the briefest moment.
“I figured nothing would stop the captain from completing her life’s mission. Especially not just my death.”
“Just your death?” Changbin breathes out in disbelief. Hyunjin is staring at Minho almost angrily and Minho regrets his choice of words immediately. “Minho, the mission was the only thing keeping us going. Without that, who knows what would have happened. Chan and I were so wired, we only slept alternate nights, taking turns to sit guard to sit in front of Felix’s cabin.”
The pain blooms again, and Jisung stiffens next to him.
“Felix’s cabin?” he asks quietly, a nameless worry in his voice.
Minho’s heart aches.
“The captain and I … slept in your bed. Every night,” Felix says, quietly, sheepishly, blushing a deep red, more embarrassment than shame.
Minho watches closely as Jisung freezes, blinks – watches his bottom lip quiver as the knowledge sinks in.
“We couldn’t leave her alone, and it was the only thing that calmed her down because seeing Minho’s things in her own cabin made her break down – and Felix just … refused to leave her after that first night,” Chan explains hastily. Jisung’s bottom lip quivers harder. The revelation that Minho’s things made her break down aches deep in Minho’s bones.
With a choked up little sob, Jisung lets go of his arm and throws himself into Felix’s arms, who catches him readily, and wraps him into a tight hug.
“Lix,” Jisung howls, squeezes Felix harder, “ Lix that is so … how … why … oh my god.”
Felix laughs sadly, rubs a hand over Jisung’s back. When Jisung pulls back, Felix gives Minho a look.
“I didn’t know if you were alive. Hope wasn’t really … well, I pretended to have it, because the captain didn’t have any, and I felt like she needed a reason to keep going, but really … I didn’t dare hope, either.”
Changbin sighs, Hyunjin’s face darkens.
“Keeping the captain from doing something stupid was a full-time job,” he mumbles, and for a brief second, Minho feels his world almost spin out of control. He turns again, scans over the crowd until he finds her, animatedly talking to a woman with a child on her hip, the baby’s meaty little fingers wrapped around the captain’s thumb, the captain’s eyes sparkling as she coos at the little thing. As if the captain could feel his gaze on her, she turns, finds him effortlessly. There’s a pretty little blush. Her eyelids flutter, ever so slightly. Then she smiles.
A ripple of cheers runs through the tavern, but Minho holds the captain’s gaze for a second, as if to reassure himself that she’s alive, before he turns back around.
It doesn’t take long to identify the reason for the commotion. The tall, strange pirate commanding everyone’s attention when he walks in surrounded by his crew. The tavern, already full enough to burst, becomes louder and more raucous yet. And it seems that with the pirates, the band arrived, because only a few minutes later, the first notes of a jig sound from somewhere on the other side of the tavern and a cheer runs through the crowd.
The barkeep appears in front of them then, slides another round of rum towards them with a toothy grin.
“From the tall fella’, over there,” he yells over the noise, “though I did tell ‘im it was all free ‘a charge tonight anyways. But he said it was the principle of th’ thing.”
When Minho lifts his eyes, he meets the strange captain’s eyes. He grins at them, lifts his hat in greeting, and bows lightly to Jisung, who blushes and bows back.
“Guess your advice was good,” Minho laughs, pulls Jisung back into his side, revels in the way he willingly wraps his arm around his waist. He hands Jisung one of the drinks, and they all cheers, loudly, Minho and Jisung raising their glasses over to the stranger and the men of his crew around him.
“So,” Jeongin asks, once their drinks are emptied, “I still wanna know. How did you end up escaping?”
“We waited until we heard two of the guards on duty to watch us talk about a privateer ship docking at the harbour,” Minho explains, “though in hindsight that was probably whoever that is over there. Then I picked the locks, took care of those sorry excuses Han Yujun hired for his guards, got Jisung out, and we split up. Took the fight to them, one by one, until you arrived to back us up.”
“We arrived at least an hour, if not two, after the other crew,” Seungmin observes, narrows his eyes at Minho, “how could you have possibly held them off for 2 hours?”
Minho feels his own neck burn up, but the rum in his blood has long made itself known, injecting him with more confidence than he would usually have.
“Well, maybe we didn’t leave to fight them immediately …” he hums. He tries hard not to sound too cocky about it, but it’s hard when he can feel Jisung squirm against him, and the memory of him basically jumping him as soon as he unlocked the door is still more than fresh in his memory.
Seungmin stares at him for a beat, then recoils with a disgusted scoff.
“Ugh, fucking gross,” he grunts and motions for the bartender to get him another drink. The tips of his ears are bright pink.
“Still risky, though,” Chan comments, seemingly already moved on from Minho’s dirty revelation, “timing it like that.”
Minho shrugs.
“You did take longer than expected and threw us off when talk of the second privateer ship got around in the house, but it was only a matter of time.”
Changbin shakes his head, reaches over and slaps Minho over the back of the head so hard, Minho actually flinches.
“Fucking dumbass,” he grumbles, “fucking risking your life like that. Again.”
A happy little laugh bubbles out of Jisung’s chest, before he protectively pulls Minho out of Changbin’s grasp and slaps at Changbin’s hands.
“Stop attacking my strong pirate bodyguard!” he squeals, with a fake scowl, “I will not hesitate to kick you in the shin again!”
That pulls a laugh out of all of them, even Changbin, who narrows his eyes, plays along readily.
“Well, the captain’s not here, so this time, I will kick back,” he yells, throws a dramatic fist into the air and Felix nearly falls off his barstool giggling.
Minho feels himself speak before he can stop himself.
“Then I’d kick you right back, I have sworn to protect this idiot, after all.”
There’s a brief moment of silence. Hyunjin stares at him, and Minho’s heart rockets into his throat, suddenly painfully aware of just how out of character his little joke had just been. But then Hyunjin’s eyes crease up, and he giggles, and the spell is broken. Minho breathes a sigh of relief.
Jisung turns, wraps his arm tighter around Minho’s waist and looks up at him with a theatrical gasp.
“But I’m your idiot, right?”
Minho can’t help but roll his eyes.
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line, not something you call yourself?”
Jisung pouts, blinks up at him, and he’s so, so gorgeous it makes Minho’s head spin a little.
“Well, if you won’t do it, I have to take the initiative,” he exclaims and Minho rolls his eyes again, but he lets his hand splay over the small of Jisung’s back, lets his fingers whisper over the sliver of exposed skin there. Jisung stares back at him, eyes softening until Minho thinks he could drown in them.
But they’re painfully interrupted by Felix, pulling Jisung right out of Minho’s grasp.
“Okay, enough lovey-dovey shit from you two, my best friend just came back to life, I want to celebrate!”
He drags Jisung towards the middle of the room where people have moved the tables aside to form a haphazard dance floor, and Jisung goes willingly, with an apologetic smile to Minho, who swallows his irritation and just sighs.
He sticks around with the others for a while, has another drink that makes his body hum and his vision fuzzy, listens to Chan tell him about the terrified kitchen staff they had found holed up in Han Yujun’s pantry earlier today, who barely allowed them to help them out the door before they ran, and watches as Jisung and Felix dance, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, swaying their hips, pivoting each other away from prying eyes and strange, wandering hands, giggling and laughing.
But his gaze returns again and again to the captain. After watching her float through the room, thanked and congratulated and celebrated over and over again, it seems that she has finally found a moment of rest.
She’s by herself, sat in front of an open window, on the back of a heavy wooden bench that doubles as a windowsill. Her posture suggests a calm that Minho has rarely seen in her outside of her own quarters, let alone somewhere as public like as a tavern. She’s leaning back against the window frame, head leaning against the thick wood, her eyes lazily roving over the crowd. There’s a soft smile on her lips, a glass of rum dangling from her elegant fingers. The tip of her boot sways to the beat of the music.
And he’s struck again just how breathtakingly beautiful she is. And how much she’s like nobody else he has ever met. He could call it charisma, or confidence, or authority, but it all seems too simple a word for the energy that radiates from her. He has had the privilege to see her in so many forms – at her best, at the helm of the ship, of her crew, her eyes sparkling with determination, a calculated violence and ruthlessness guiding her always skilled, always steady hands. The flip side of it, her other best, when she turns around at the mere sound of one of them getting hurt, defending every single one of her crew like they’re her own flesh and blood. The same care and love for every single human being when she finds people who are hurt, when she finds new recruits. The way she looks at them and seems to see in them more than anyone else can. Her innate ability to see the best and the worst in people, but most importantly, to see their fears and their potential. Like the day they picked up Felix, and the captain wrapped him in her coat, guided him back to the ship with a soothing hand on his back. Like the day they captured Jisung, and somehow, she saw through everything that set off the alarm bells in Minho’s head so badly he hated his guts for weeks.
And then the side of her only he got to see. Soft, desperate, needy. Her usually steady hands trembling against his skin, pulling at his wrists to get him closer, whispering about how much she needed him. The words, despite their context, never failing to make him reel. Or when she was underneath him, eyes fluttered shut, body beautifully bared to him and only him, entrusted to him because she knew he would keep her safe, would do anything for her. Her pleasure, his charge. His privilege to give her.
And even the darker moments, the ones he coveted quietly, a sick sort of pride in the knowledge that they were also his to keep. The occasional flickers of doubt, the shadows of fear. The darkness that would cloud her eyes sometimes, seemingly out of nowhere, that made her body unnaturally still, her breathing catch in her throat. The moments she hid from everyone because she thought they would make her less … less what, Minho wonders. Less of a leader? Less trustworthy? Less strong? Less lovable? As if these weren’t the moments that solidified for Minho, more than any others, that this was someone he would follow until the ends of the earth. Someone he would break his own heart over again and again and again, if it meant he was able to stay in her orbit. Her magical, addictive orbit, one he could never resist. One, he thinks, he will find himself in in his next life, and the one after that, and the one after that – if something like that exists. Maybe if he ever meets Ryujin again, he can ask her if it does.
Maybe it’s her orbit that draws him over to her now, pushing through the crowd, drawn in by her energy until she spots him, smiles at him, straightens up only enough to stretch an arm towards him.
He lets himself reach for her, too, lets his fingers intertwine with hers, lets himself be pulled closer, onto the back of the bench with her, until he can feel her leg press against his, and he’s right back in her orbit, her energy prickling through his veins and the smell of her hair in his nose.
Slowly, carefully, dancing the same sweet, covert dance they have played so many times before, he lets his leg rest agains hers. And despite it all, despite how many times they’ve done this, despite the three magical words that have so easily dripped from her lips earlier, his heart skips an uneven beat when she leans hers against his. He wonders if he could ever get used to it.
“I can’t believe we did it,” she hums, quietly.
He looks over at her, finds her still looking into the crowd of raucous, drunken people, before she turns to him and smiles. “I can’t believe we actually did it.”
Minho remembers all the years they spent, all the frustration and the setbacks and the pain when they lost again and again and again. The year they got so close before he eluded them again, when she locked him out of her quarters for an entire week. The time when they only narrowly eluded the coast guard that Han Yujun had sicced on them. The year they didn’t elude it, and they had to break Changbin out of jail.
But, his body also unhelpfully reminds him now, with her leg pressed against his, the sound of her voice telling him she loved him still warm and honeyed in his ears, of the year after that, the small victory of uncovering the drug ring that was funnelling roofies into the brothels of Nassau, when she dragged him into the kitchen while everyone was in the common area celebrating and kissed him so hard and demanding he felt his blood rush to his cock in record time before she sank to her knees, right there, where anyone could’ve walked in. He had never gotten over the headrush of it, her readiness to let him have his way with her almost in public. The closest thing to her love he thought he could ever have. But now here he was. He forces his mind out of the gutter, his gaze back to the dancers. He sees Felix’s blonde mop of head jumping around somewhere in the back.
The captain hands him her drink and he takes a sip.
“I always knew we would, eventually,” he offers, tries to get the conversation back on track because he finds he misses her voice already. She sighs.
"I mean, I guess I did, too, but it took so long, and we failed so many times, and then we lost all the evidence and … I just really thought it might never happen.”
She leans forward, rests her chin in her hand, her elbow on her leg.
“I guess I thought that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, you know. That we weren’t strong enough, not smart enough, didn’t want it enough. That we never stood a chance.”
Minho scoffs, turns back to her, and finds himself so close to her, he can smell the rum on her breath. Desire rushes through him so fast it almost makes him dizzy. Desire and love, though the two have always been intertwined when it comes to her.
“Captain,” he murmurs, watches her eyelids flutter, gaze dropping down to his lips so briefly he thinks he imagined it, “you were always strong enough. It was only a matter of time. For fate to finally help us find the last piece of the puzzle. I never doubted it would be you who finally took him down.”
He watches her fluster, her eyes waver, fall down to the floor, her lashes fanning over her cheeks like they do when she’s asleep. One separates, comes to rest on her cheekbone. He reaches out, brushes it away softly. Her skin under his fingertips drives him crazy.
She smiles at him, briefly leans into his touch, before her attention is drawn back into the room, where the music comes to a stuttering halt and someone stumbles his way through the crowd and onto a chair in the middle of the room. A chuckle runs through the room when he nearly tumbles onto the floor.
Minho nearly laughs out loud when he sees it’s Kim Seungmin. He tries again and this time, Seungmin manages to climb up and stand tall over the crowd. And despite his flushed cheeks and uneven feet, he finds the captain immediately. His voice, too, is surprisingly stable.
“I’m a little bit drunk, and I’m sure everyone who knows me will never let me live this down for as long as I live, but I have something I wanted to say,” he begins. The room quiets down to listen.
“Not many of you know this, actually, because I have never told the story and because, frankly, nobody has ever asked, but I have been with the captain since the very first day. I met her the day she stumbled onto our former captain’s ship,” he says, with a bow in the direction of where Minho can see the strange pirate’s hat tower over everyone.
Through his own surprise, his confusion as he tries to puzzle out how none of them had ever asked, watches Hyunjin’s mouth fall open on the other side of the room, hears San yell out a “what the fuck, Seungmin!” that makes the crowd chuckle. Seungmin just shrugs and lifts his hand, and the room quiets down again. Minho’s almost impressed with how well he handles the crowd.
“Years later, when she picked me to go with her when our captain gave her her ship, I went willingly. And I still remember the first night on the new ship like it was yesterday. Just her, me, and three other crew mates from the Captain’s crew, sailing into the unknown on a ship that was too big for us to realistically man. The uncertainty. The doubts. But then dawn broke, and she rallied us all into the kitchen, sat us down, brewed us coffee and scrambled some eggs and told us her plan for recruitment, for money, for how she wanted to refurbish the common room we all know and love today, everything, like she hadn’t slept at all that night and just figured it out. She told me then, on that very first day, that she wanted me to be her navigator. And mind you, I had never told anyone about my interest in cartography, in navigation, only sneaking books from land, and drawing in my spare time, in whatever corner of the ship I could hide when I wasn’t on swabby duties. But the captain had noticed.”
Minho turns to the captain next to him, who is watching Seungmin with rapt attention, a deep blush on her soft cheeks, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. She looks younger than she ever has, and he can’t help but wonder if this is how she looked when Seungmin met her. If her face looked very different when she was younger. If she had worn her hair differently back then. Not for the first time, he wishes he could’ve been there. It makes him almost jealous of Seungmin.
“And of course I said yes, so I became her navigator and have since sailed our ship over more miles than I can count. I watched her dedication to goodness from the very first day, when we picked up that old drunk in a dinghy that threw up all over the deck, and she wanted to clean it up, but we refused to let her and drew lots instead. I lost.”
Seungmin grimaces, and the captain does, too. A loud laugh runs through the audience.
“I could talk for hours about her. The obvious, like her fighting skills, her intelligence, her courage, her leadership. But also about her staring evil in the face and still choosing the good every time. And her ability to make split second decisions that determine life or death, and coming out on the side of life every time. And you know what? As cheesy as it sounds, I think that is her real power.”
Seungmin sweeps his arms to the side, looks over where Hyunjin, 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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�� ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter X
pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung
summary: and despite it all, there's still a fight to lead
word count: 8.8k
warnings: mentions of main character death but not actual main character death! as I mentioned in the series warnings; vague allusions to suicidal ideation and thoughts of sacrificing oneself; grief; panic; depression; violence and blood
author's note: i am so sorry, it had to hurt! but everything will be okay, within this chapter already. only this and one more regular chapter before the epilogue. are you ready to see han yujun's demise? i know i am. mwah mwah ily all
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
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< interlude - chapter XI (coming friday, may 17, 3pm CET) >
This is what it is. Pain, salt, blood. Wood, cotton, metal. Sleep, awake, dreams of death. One gunshot that keeps echoing in your ears. Over. And over. And over. Again.
You sit down on the steps leading to the forecastle deck at the front of the ship. Your aching, brittle body hits the solid planks of worn wood, and you can feel every single one of them underneath you. You look around. It’s still the same as when you sat in this exact spot on your first night on it, albeit with a few more bullet holes chipped into the railing, knife marks in the masts. It feels nice to be able to tell the story of most of them yourself.
The world is silent, except for the waves. There never are many sounds this far out at sea, where you are now. Taking the long way around Eleuthera Island. Not passing too close to Dunmore Town, not taking any more chances. Seungmin had suggested it. You had agreed. Two more days didn’t make a difference. Han Yujun would die at the end of this journey.
There are no birds this far out, of course, because there’s no land for them to rest. The only sound, the wind, ripping at the sails. Knocking a wooden peg against the mast over and over again. And waves. Water lapping at the ship. Jeongin isn’t singing. He hasn’t been in the mood much.
The wind cuts like it only does on cloudless nights. You shiver. Feel that your body is alive, despite it all.
It’s the first time you’ve been alone in days.
You sleep in Jisung’s cot with Felix every night. It’s where they carried you, after you collapsed. Not that you remember. Everything after the gunshot is darkness. Felix had filled in the blanks the day after, after you woke up. Sunlight on your face, the smell of Jisung, and a warm, skinny body wrapped around your back. A moment of silence. Then, pain. Unimaginable pain.
After the gunshot, you had collapsed. Screaming, sobbing, completely out of your mind. They’d decided you weren’t stable enough to be on your own, so they carried you into Felix’s cabin, deposited you into Jisung’s abandoned cot. Felix couldn’t take it. He told Changbin to heat up some stew for everyone for dinner, climbed into bed with you and wrapped his arms around you. He stayed there all night. Held you through the heaving, desperate sobs, drying your tears, his deep voice murmuring sweet nothings into your deaf ears.
The next day, you forced yourself up. You nearly fell. Felix caught you before you could smash your skull open on the dresser. He had yelled for Changbin, who had stumbled in from next door half dressed, half crazed with panic, expelling the deepest sigh you ever heard when he saw that you were okay. Felix asked him to fetch you some breakfast and some coffee, didn’t allow you to take a single step out of the cabin until you ate. And you did. As much as you could, which wasn’t much, but you did. Then you got up. Reassured Felix that you were fine. Put on your bravest face while the inside of your chest felt like an empty grave. You made it to your cabin. One of Minho’s shirts was thrown over the back of your chair. You broke down. This time it was Seungmin who found you. He didn’t say a word, wrapped you up in a blanket, took you upstairs, deposited you right behind him on the quarterdeck, where he could keep an eye on you, and went back to the wheel. And that’s where you sat. Quiet. Hurting so much, you didn’t know where else to go, what else to do. You don’t remember what you thought about that first day, if you thought about anything at all. But you know you didn’t move until the sun started setting.
Until Seungmin softly said your name, crouched down in front of you, smoothed a gentle hand over your hair. Asked you if he should get Felix.
You nodded. Felix came, whisked you off downstairs, back into his cabin. The smell of Jisung made your body ache, but you couldn’t go back into your cabin. There was nowhere else to go. And here, you had Felix, who fed you soup, spoonful by spoonful as he chattered. You could see the dark circles around his eyes, the bloodshot white of them telling the story he didn’t want to tell. It made it all so much worse.
You stayed that night, and the night after that, and the night after that. And he never turned you away, only smiled at you and opened his arms. Sometimes you would cry, sometimes he would. Sometimes either of you would wake up sobbing in the middle of the night and the other held them. Sometimes you just talked. And sometimes you were both exhausted, and you would simply wind your arms around each other, let yourself be comforted by each other’s warmth and fall asleep.
It became a ritual. The two of you, in Jisung’s bed, against the world.
The second day dawned, and you swallowed it all down and got up again. This time, Felix didn’t even resist. He called for Changbin. It was the first day of the routine that would remain the same every single day. You weren’t a fool, you knew they were doing it for you. You didn’t fight it. In the morning, Changbin woke you and Felix up with a gentle knock, a soft call of your names. He accompanied you to your quarters. (On that second day, when you saw that Minho’s shirt was gone, you froze right there, in the doorway. You had asked, quietly, brokenly, if Changbin knew if they kept Minho’s stuff. The relief was guttural when he said they did. He asked you if you wanted them to get rid of it. You shook your head. Mumbled out a quiet ’never’.) You let Changbin deposit you on the edge of your bed while he drew you a bath. While you washed yourself, he remained outside, telling you the latest developments through the door.
Then he would say his goodbyes, and Hyunjin would stroll in, just at that moment, bringing you breakfast. He sat with you, ate with you, chatted about everything under the sun, until he had to go and Seungmin picked you up, took you upstairs to sit with him while he steered you around the countless sandbanks and islands. You spend your day there, staring at the horizon, quietly gathering your strength in Seungmin’s comfortable, silent companionship, your mind simultaneously whirring and eerily quiet as the whipping sea wind made you at least feel half alive. After the first day, everyone knew they’d find you there if they needed something. Gaon was helping Hyunjin with the next ration plan and wanted an okay for a budget for new bedding? San had a question about armament for when you reached Andros? They found you there. Approached you only after Seungmin gave them a terse smile.
Chan had dinner with you every night. His presence was nice. Calm. Solid. He chatted to you about things going on on the ship, told stories in his sweet voice, good and bad, about his parents, his childhood, his life as a prizefighter before you gave him another option. Then, after dinner, Jeongin would usually knock on the door and take you up to the top where you would both lie on your backs and stare at the stars. Sometimes he would sing as he kept a look-out. You would talk, but more often than not you were quiet. But when you did talk, you often tried to make him laugh. It was one of your favourite sounds in the world, even when it was streaked with sadness right now.
When the moon reached its zenith, Jeongin would help you down the sails, down to where Felix would already waiting, eyes heavy with sleep and, nonetheless, a beautiful smile on his lips. Always hopeful.
And the next day it would repeat itself.
With all of it, you can’t believe it’s only been days since … . They feel like months, these days, as they travel through your body. It hasn’t been long enough to forget. You remember it all too vividly. Warm hands. Golden skin. Raven hair. Cutting eyes. Skin against skin against skin. A heart shaped smile and a giddy little bunny toothed giggle. It hurts so much that you wish you could forget. That time would pass faster, that you could finally breathe again without missing them, missing them, missing them. But you can’t. It doesn’t stop hurting. It hurts so much that you can’t blame Changbin for refusing to leave you alone, even when you bathe. It hurts so much that sometimes you stumble when you get up the few steps it takes to get up to the quarterdeck, and Seungmin has to catch you, has to support you up.
Because you no longer believe Jisung is alive. The way Han Yujun’s captain had spoken, it was clear that he was either dead already, by Trott’s filthy hands, or his uncle would kill him as soon as he set foot into his house again. The realisation had found you deep in the night, Felix’s deep breaths puffing against your neck. It wasn’t sudden, the fact of it just … settled into your bones as you watched the moon through the porthole. The pain spread through your veins so slowly, you could feel every inch of it, until you could feel nothing else. Until your whole body was throbbing, inside out, with the loss of him. You had started trembling again, earth-shattering sobs waking a disoriented, panicked Felix, who had pulled you close, shushed you, asked you if you were okay, if anything hurt. But you couldn’t speak. You wailed their names into Felix’s chest until you fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Where the pain is, there’s also emptiness. A gust of wind sears through the thin material of your coat, the stars twinkle in the big vast nothing above you. It mirrors the big vast nothing inside of you, where it’s suddenly, for the first time – silent.
The kraken is gone. You have no idea where it went. Maybe it finally escaped, broke out of your ribcage with your screams, slithered out of your guts with the bile that you expelled over the side of the ship when your world went black. Maybe Chan had pulled it out of your throat when you were screaming and thrown it overboard. You don’t know. All you know is there’s a quiet inside of you now. It’s painful, like the feeling of an empty stomach when it starts to hurt.
The kraken is gone, and you’re utterly alone with the words you never said. You remember your dad’s lucky necklace. Wonder what they did with it when they found your stepfather’s dead body.
You blink up at the stars again. You wonder if it’s even colder up there. If what’s left of you would just blend into the darkness, or if you could find a purpose there, too. Maybe, if you looked hard enough, you could find Minho again. It makes you want to try.
You try not to think like that, you really don’t. You can’t. Because there’s work to do. Your crew, men who signed onto your legacy because they believed in you, all of them with you on this journey to avenge them. To make them proud, to keep true to your promise. This was bigger than you.
Distantly, you hear the door to below deck open, Felix’ voice, tentatively calling for you. So soft, so gentle, so pitiful. You can’t believe that tone is for you. You never wanted it to be like this. You’re disappointed in yourself.
When he finds you, spots you from the other side of the deck, a relief floods his features that makes something akin to anger rush through you. Felix. Having to worry for you.
“There you are,” he hums, and gently plops down beside you. He’s a calming presence, his skinny little body always running hot, a perpetual smile on his pretty lips, no matter how badly he’s hurting, soft blonde hair somehow always smelling like sun warmed fruit and toasted spices.
“Wanna go to bed?” He asks. More sugar-laced pity.
“I won’t break, you know,” you say, your voice not harsh, but cold. But Felix doesn’t take it personally. Knows you too well for that. Knows grief too well. You don’t deserve him.
“I know,” he hums, leans back a little so he can look you in the eyes, makes sure you can see just how earnest he is, “to be honest, you’re handling this a lot better than anyone else would.”
He’s still smiling, but you can’t bring yourself to smile back. The grief has hollowed you out, so painfully that you can feel the cold biting into the shell of you. You wish you could forget. You just want to forget.
You shrug and Felix shuffles closer again, throws an arm around your shoulders. It feels like second nature now. Like Felix had always been attached to each other.
“You don’t always have to be so strong, you know?” he says softly, “none of us expect it of you.”
You shake your head, stare straight ahead.
“You may say that, but we all know that reality is different. If I fall apart, who will lead you? Everyone will lose their respect for me. I will leave you all floundering when we’re so close to the goal, just because of my … no. I can’t.”
You grimace, shoot him a pained smile, but you can’t look him in the eye.
“And don’t worry, I won’t come crawling to you every night forever. I will get over it and your life can go back to normal. I can sleep in my quarters tonight, if you want me to.”
Felix shakes you slightly, scoffs, stares at you like you’re being ridiculous.
“Don’t be silly,” he chides. “Have you considered that I need you there, too? Because I’m grieving, too?”
You swallow harshly. His pain, their pain. A brand new well of pain that you can’t even bear the thought of right now. Because it might be the one thing that makes you give up. You steel yourself. It hurts.
“It will get easier,” you force out, your voice colder than you want it to be because you don't believe it either. The pain feels eternal. But Felix once again just seems to understand. He sighs.
“You always talk like your feelings are a choice.”
Something noxious spreads through your body.
“They are. They have to be. How else am I going to survive this?”
A tear drips from the tip of your nose and you curse. You were doing so well, keeping your violent crying fits to when you were curled up with Felix in Jisung’s bed late at night. You can’t start falling apart out here. It’s a slippery slope to a point where you break down entirely, in front of all of them.
“Like Jisung taught us,” Felix says softly, “You love. Let us love you, let us take care of you. Let us return a fraction of what you’ve given us all by taking us under your wing, protecting us, fighting for us when nobody else did, all on blind faith. For leading us for all these years, for keeping us safe and fed and clothed and gifting us a family when most of us thought we would never have one again.”
His words are so genuine it makes nausea settle in your stomach. It’s too much. Too fucking much.
“You don’t have to thank me for that, you know that,” you mumble and Felix laces his hand with yours, squeezes.
“But what if we want to?”
It’s hard to feel, but something warm does bloom, deep in your chest, in the middle of all the cracks and rubble and blood. It almost hurts more than the emptiness.
“And promise me something, captain,” Felix adds, and you look up at him. He looks wise beyond his years in the moonlight. You wonder when that happened. Another thing you missed, failed to see in time.
“When we find them? Let yourself love them, too. Loudly and openly. We would never think less of you.”
You shake your head, your whole chest aching with emptiness emptiness emptiness.
Love. Felix just says it like that. You can’t, but you let yourself use the word now, in the most private corners of the newfound emptiness where the kraken and your heart used to be. You let yourself finally call it what you think you always knew it was. Calling it love only now that it has turned into past tense. You loved Minho. For years, probably ever since you met, since the first time your eyes met and your souls intertwined so tightly you could never be separated again. You loved him with every touch, every kiss, every smile behind closed doors. Oh, you loved him more than you’d loved anyone.
And you’d grown to love Jisung. He, who had waltzed into your life, so likely to be your enemy, but really unlike anyone you’d ever met before. Pretty, pretty face and determined little scowl and soft hot skin, protective and genuine and honest and so, so tender. Like a missing piece, slotting into you, giving you more love than you ever thought you deserved, looking at every corner of you and finding something to love there, too. And loving not with fear, but with a devastating heart-shaped smile, like it was easy. He made you believe that maybe it could be.
But then death found you again, after years of quiet watchfulness, and took them both from you. So cruel, to give them to you to touch, to hold, just to rip them out of your arms before you could even have enough time. You wonder if you did something wrong. If you missed a sign somewhere. If it was trying to teach you something. But no matter how many times you turn it all over in your head, you can’t seem to figure out where you went wrong.
There was blood on your hands again. The people you loved were all dead. And there was nobody to blame but yourself. For failing over and over and over again.
“They love you, too, you know. God, I hope you know,” Felix continues, scoffs like he’s just made a private little joke. “Minho has loved you since the day he met you. He’s devoted to you, mind, body, and soul. And Jisung?! Jisung has risked everything, has fought us all just for a chance to be with you. He reveres you. The way he looks at you, you should see it, when you walk in the door it’s like the sun has risen, and he’s staring straight at it …”
A sob racks through your body, your whole body like an open wound. You dig your nails into your arm so hard you may be drawing blood. But the physical pain does nothing to dull the grief.
“Stop, Felix! Please … don’t,” you sob. “I- I can’t … they’re gone. Don’t … I know what I’ve lost. Don’t make it worse, please, I know … I know …”
“We don’t know if they’re gone–” Felix starts, but you wail, shake your head so vehemently it makes you dizzy. You pull your knees up to your chest, wrap your arms around you like it will stop making you feel like you’re about to fall apart. But there’s nothing that can help. Felix rubs his hand up and down your arm soothingly.
“I can’t do hope, Felix,” you sob, let your head fall onto your knees, “I can’t spend the rest of my life waiting for them to come back.”
“Would you wait for the rest of your life?”
You sob again. You feel like you’re slowly breaking into pieces. The shiver is back.
“For them? Yeah.”
Felix pulls you in, then, into his solid chest, and you let him. He cups your head with one of his soft hands. You cling onto him. A cold gust of wind sweeps over the ship. He pulls you closer, grabs one of your hands in his.
“Let’s go to bed, your hands are freezing.”
The 9 more days it takes you to reach Andros Island fly past you in a blur of pain, emptiness, and your newfound routine. You no longer try to snatch moments alone. It’s like Felix’ words broke something inside of you, unleashing a self-hatred, a disappointment so sharp and unbearable, for everything you could’ve had, everything you never knew you had, that you’re scared to be alone. Scared what you would do if you were.
You don’t know if anyone notices, but you no longer look behind you. Even when someone approaches you from your back, you don’t turn. You walk around them, or wait until they approach you from the front. Keep your back to the wall. You can’t turn, when you know he won’t be there.
Every day you remind yourself of two things.
One: You’ve been alone before. In a way, you always have been. This is no different. You repeat it until you start to believe it.
Two: You have to stick around, if only until it’s done. Because you have a mission. More important than anything else. You will make sure Han Yujun will suffer, for all he did, to the world, to the people, to so many of your men. But now? You will make him beg for the mercy of death for what he took from you.
It’s hard, when, as your body numbs to the pain, you start to see something else in awful clarity. Their pain.
Felix cries, too. With you, yes, but sometimes you wake up in the night, and he’s quietly, privately sobbing into your back. Like he doesn’t want you to hear. Hyunjin’s pretty eyes lack lustre. None of his smiles reach them any more. His hair hangs limply, no longer freshly styled and cared for. He hasn’t sewed anything in two weeks, either, his pile of scrap fabric untouched in the corner of the living area. Chan and Changbin’s smiles come much less easily, their shoulders are always tense. They seem almost jumpy, especially when there’s any unexpected noise or someone yells. Seungmin doesn’t seem to have changed much, on the outside, but you can feel it. His silence is different now. When he speaks, it’s slower, quieter. When he looks at you, it’s like he doesn’t just worry for you, but like the weight of the world sits on his shoulders. And Jeongin – Jeongin almost never sings now. Only late at night, when he thinks everyone is asleep. Sometimes you can hear him when you lie awake in Felix’s cabin. They’re all sad songs. Gut-wrenchingly devastating melodies, lyrics of loss and pain. They break your heart. You never bring it up.
The knowledge that you failed them torments you day and night. That this is your doing. You failed Jisung, you failed Minho, you failed your crew. They counted on you to keep them all safe, to protect them from those who hurt them. To protect them from more pain and loss, of which they all had too much, as you well know. It’s what you always wanted, to give them hope again, a home again. But you failed. Yes, they may still be fine, but their beloved friends are gone. You failed to protect those they loved. They didn’t deserve to lose more people they loved. Especially not because you weren’t smart enough to see it coming, to anticipate that Han Yujun would be a step ahead of you. Twice. It’s unforgivable.
The need to make it right is what drives you forward, what forces you to detangle your legs from Felix’s every morning, drag your leaden body away from the only comfort you know. It’s what dries the tears in your eyes, makes your heart deaden in your chest as your soul becomes more and more murderous. In the absence of them, there is only violence.
Because you can’t lose again. You won’t. You won’t be too slow. You won’t be dulled to their machinations. Because you have to see it coming this time. Or it will cost you everything.
This time, you will do what you should’ve done in Trott’s house. You should’ve given yourself before you ever lost one of them. This time you won’t hesitate. It’s set down on a piece of paper, in the top drawer of your desk. Just a few words. Making your ship over to the one person you know would keep her safe.
This is what you hold on to, until the last day dawns and Andros Island lies clear and green on the horizon. Today will be Han Yujun’s last, if by your sword or someone else’s. Even if it costs you your life.
Felix looks at you differently that morning, Hyunjin falters when he steps into your office. You don’t want to think about why, if it’s the sick sort of determination in your eyes or if they’re scared you’ll fuck up again. You wish you could tell them that you won’t, that today, you will not hesitate, that you’ve prepared for this. But you don’t. If they knew, they would try to stop you. And you can’t risk that.
When the Andros Town harbour comes into view, you have built a wall around your heart so high you no longer have space for doubt. Only acceptance. It’s almost peaceful. Hopeful, in a way, even though you don’t believe in that kind of thing, usually. But the possibility is enough.
The wind is in your hair, the sails flap in the wind. Seungmin yells some last-minute orders to the men manning the sails, Hyunjin arms everyone to their teeth where they wait above deck. The air is buzzing with a nervous sort of anticipation that settles into your bones.
Everything is fine until your eyes fall on another ship, moored closely to the shore.
No … it can’t be …
You stumble backwards. Seungmin’s eyes find you immediately, his body half turned around, a hand already stretched out to you while his eyes still scan over your body to see if you’re hurt, then the horizon, trying to figure out what has upset you so much. But he couldn’t know, could he?
“Anchor next to that ship up there,” you tell him, and to his credit, he only hesitates for the barest moment before he complies.
And the closer you get, the more undeniable it is. It’s his ship. The Captain’s. Your captain, the man who had saved your life, who taught you everything you knew, who had faith in you when you didn’t know yourself. You don’t know what’s scarier – the thought of meeting him again after all this time, or the thought of his ship, but with someone else manning it.
And then there’s the obvious question: what is he doing here? What business could he possibly have on Andros Island, the most avid of the anti-privateer islands. Could he be after Han Yujun as well? Or worse, could he be on his side?
Your mind is spinning so fast it’s making nausea bloom in your guts. That’s what’s left now, after the kraken has disappeared. A gaping emptiness that makes you feel seasick. Ironic.
You swallow it down, will the dizziness away, focus on steeling your voice as you order your crew to pile into the dinghies and row to land. Ignore even Felix’s imploring look as you wait for them all to head out. Chan refuses to sit anywhere but by your side as Changbin rows you out as the last boat, ‘in order to better be able to protect you’ as he said.
It’s silent in the little boat as he rows, the oars slapping against the calm surf, the sun beating down on you on a day that’s as cloudless as it could be. You can’t tell if that is meant to be a good omen, or if death is laughing at you again, preparing to take you in its cold embrace while you stare up into a brilliant sky, and, if you’re lucky, the loving faces of your crew.
“There are other pirates on shore,” Chan murmurs, rips you out of your thoughts. “I’ve never seen them before. Do you think they’re the ones from that ship we anchored next to?”
You nod, try not to let your eyes linger on the shore for too long, foolishly trying to avert the moment of truth for a little longer. You pinch yourself forcefully for being so childish, but it’s what loss has done to you. Leaving you a brittle shell of yourself on the most important day of your life. Pathetic.
“Do you know if they’re friendly?” Chan asks, hesitantly, carefully.
You realise he wants more, but there’s only so much certainty you can give him.
“If they are who I think they are, then there’s a good chance they will be.”
Changbin gives you a funny look, before turning to Chan, clearly silently communicating between themselves. Before all this, you may have called them out on it. Today, you need to preserve all your strength.
Before long, your dinghy hits sand and Changbin gets out, drags it until you can get out of it with dry feet, offering you his arm as he helps you down. The rest of your crew is gathered on the beach, talking quietly among themselves, throwing nervous glances this way and that. Because none of them know, not even you, if Han Yujun is expecting you, or how he will attack. If he will allow you to come find him or if he will bring the fight to you. But so far, it’s quiet.
A little ways down the quay, the strange pirates sit. They’re loud, relaxed, chatting and laughing raucously, taking long draughts from their flasks. It’s in stark contrast to your crew, high-strung and wary. The strange pirates are sharpening their weapons – at least now you know they’re here for a fight, too. You just hope to God it won’t be against you.
You push through your own crew, make down the beach towards them, two sets of footsteps, Chan and Changbin by the sounds of it, immediately breaking off the group to follow you.
As you approach, familiar faces start to stand out – still the same, only a little older. Some of them get up as you approach, their eyes widening in recognition. They look friendly, excited almost, but you don’t allow yourself to let that give you any hope. They turn somewhere in their crowd, and then, as you’re nearly there, almost close enough to speak, their group parts.
A familiar tall man, dressed in all black with a matching big black hat, turns around, and you fall to your knee without even thinking, your body reacting before your brain can think better of it.
Chan and Changbin freeze behind you, Hyunjin makes an undignified noise, then there are more footsteps hurrying along the beach behind you.
You hear him laugh, low and baritone, as he walks up to you. He places a big, calloused hand on your shoulder, and you shake like a leaf.
“Now, now,” he hums, “that’s hardly necessary any more, is it captain Y/N?”
Your head spins, your body feels like it’s not your own, but somehow, you manage to rise to your feet, meet the Captain’s eyes.
As soon as you do, it’s like all the years never happened. He still looks the same, though a little bit older. The wrinkles around his eyes are more pronounced, his nose is bigger, silver streaks running through his unruly black locks. There’s a new scar over his eyebrow.
“Captain,” you manage to say somehow, your voice still a little shaky.
He smiles at you.
“It’s been a long time.”
“I’ve asked for you,” you blurt out, breathless, “every port I landed, I asked for you, wanted to make sure you and the crew were still out there, still fine. But we never crossed paths.”
He shrugs. He’s still smiling, widely and warmly and affectionately, and it simultaneously gives you pause and makes your heart ache with it. He never used to smile this much – at least not at his crew. At you, sometimes, if you did especially well, but even then, it was a rare treat. He was a serious man, with the weight of all the years and losses on his shoulders. But now, he seems …lighter.
“Ah,” he says, “it seems it wasn’t meant to be yet then.”
He says it so easily, as if you didn’t hope, for years and years, that you could see him again, get closure, get … anything. And now you’re here. Without them. You huff out a laugh, but it’s dry and painful. Tears start prickling at your eyes, unbidden.
The Captain pauses, his face pulling into a concerned frown. He places a gentle hand on your arm and leads you down the beach, towards the line of trees bordering the town. Suddenly, he stops, looks over your shoulder in surprise.
“Sorry, sir,” you hear Hyunjin’s voice, shaky but determined, “but we promised someone we would protect her if he wasn’t here to do it.” Pain, pain, pain, empty, hollow, sharp.
The captain seems to think for a second, then nods and leads you further until you’re finally out of earshot of the two crews, dozens of pirates probably oh so curious about what you were breaking down over now. You dig your nails into your palms until you’re sure you’re drawing blood. You wish everything would stop spiralling out of control.
“How have you been?” the Captain asks, and you scoff out a painful laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chan and Hyunjin.
They’re standing a little ways away, their eyes trained on you. They look ready to sprint into action.
“I’ve killed everyone I’ve ever loved,” you mumble.
The Captain stares at you for a long moment. Watches as you swallow drily, avert your eyes.
“What do you mean by that?”
You can’t look at him when it pours out of you.
“There’s something wrong with me, captain. Everyone I get close to, everyone I …love,” you choke out the words, “they all die. My father, my mother, now …”
Your throat constricts, an echo of the kraken, a painful convulsion in the emptiness. You gasp in a breath of air.
“The one who would protect you, the one they’re here for,” the Captain interrupts you, with a nod towards Hyunjin and Chan, “is that who you lost?”
You nod.
“Him and … I lost both of them. I … killed them.”
You look at the Captain and to your surprise, he smiles, sadly, but softly.
“Silly girl,” he hums, “people die all the time. The whimsy of the fates is not something you have power over. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
You stare at him. The words filter into you, travel through you, make something inside of you tip off balance. You’re too stunned to speak. He places a comforting, solid hand on your shoulder, squeezes. God, he would’ve never done this back then. He was harsh and cold, always said he wasn’t your friend, he was your captain. The crew had always had to rely on each other to patch each other up after a fight, to sort out fights, to help someone through nightmares. It was one of the reasons why you decided to never be like that, why you always wanted to be close to your crew. Or maybe, a mean part of yourself supplies, you just didn’t want to be alone.
“Don’t take responsibility for things that aren’t your fault,” the Captain continues, “life, and especially this one, it claims its victims at random. There’s no pattern, no celestial plot to torment you. You will find love again, probably have an abundance of it, if the way your crew is looking at you is anything to judge by.”
He looks over at Chan and Hyunjin. When you don’t react, he places his other hand on your other shoulder, gives you a soft little shake. It’s sweet, you think. Fatherly. You would’ve killed for this back then.
“You did well for yourself. Your reputation precedes you, everywhere they speak of you, of the hard fight you choose to fight every day, and how you do it fearlessly and with everything you have.”
He laughs suddenly, loud and rough, and the sound is entirely unfamiliar to you.
“Just the other week I got a drink on the house when the barkeep heard I knew you,” he laughs out, squeezes your shoulders one more time before he straightens up, smiles down at you. “So don’t worry, you’ve done well.”
You shake your head in disbelief, a soft laugh escaping past your lips. You wonder if it’s the first one since.
“I always wanted to say thank you,” you mumble before the rest of your courage leaves you. “For saving me, back then, for taking a chance on the random girl that showed up with blood all over her face. For not taking advantage of me and teaching me everything and giving me my ship–”
“Don’t. You deserved it,” he interrupts you, waves you off like you didn’t need to say anything more.
You scoff.
“I didn’t do anything back then, how could I have deserved it?”
He shrugs nonchalantly, another enigmatic smile on his chapped lips.
“When you walked up, all that determination, that strength in your eyes, the blood smeared over your brow, I knew that if I didn’t take you on, someone else would. And they would take advantage of that determination and use it for evil. Call it instinct, but something told me you could do a lot of good. And now look at you.”
You blink at him, his words a brutal reminder of the reality waiting for you when you return to your crew. Briefly, you wonder if he will have to watch you die today.
“That’s what we’re here for today, actually,” you say slowly, cautiously. You try to straighten up, find some of the decorum fitting your status, instead of crumbling like you’re still 18.
You decide to take the chance, to tell the Captain straight out, to take a gamble on what you know about him, what you’re seeing in his eyes, what you know about Han Yujun and his hatred for all privateers and their hatred for him, and if that fails, in your history – and hope it won’t be the third bad decision you make that will cost a life.
“Well, to be precise, we’re here for Han Yujun,” you start. You keep your eyes on the Captain’s, watching for any micro-expression that could possibly tip you off. “You know what he has done, to this island, the people, the whole region. He’s a leech, a corrupt murdered. And we finally got a lead. Evidence to take him down, once and for all. That evidence was stolen, along with …” your voice breaks and curse yourself for still being unable to say it, but you push through, keep talking like nothing happened, “so we’re back to a more primitive plan: go in there, take care of him the old-fashioned way, find new evidence and get his administration and his coconspirators to hang.”
The Captain takes a moment to contemplate your words, then he nods.
“We’re here for Han Yujun, too,” he finally says, and you hold your breath.
“I’m not nearly as good a person as you are, Y/N. We’re here because he hired us to ship something,” the Captain admits and he looks almost sheepish. “But then had us attacked on the way there. His hired guns were pathetic, no match for us, but they still managed to blow a hole into our ship. So we’re here to demand our payment – and get revenge.”
The breath you expel feels like relief, like hope. You have a chance now. You have a chance. With the captain’s crew and yours combined, you have a force of around 70 pirates. Han Yujun’s house guard, even on a good day, shouldn’t measure more than 30, most of them young and inexperienced, no match for your experienced fighters.
You stick out your hand.
“Well, then, Captain, may I suggest a deal? We fight him together. I get his head and enough evidence to topple that corrupt government of his. You can have as much money, as many jewels, anything you want from his house, as much as you can carry, and the satisfaction of a revenge well exacted.”
The Captain’s lips pull into a smirk, something like pride in his eyes when he takes your hand in his and shakes it.
“Deal, captain Y/N,” he says, throws a glance towards the beach where your crews are still lingering. Then he steps back, gestures for you to move. “You lead the way.”
Chan and Hyunjin are already watching you when you turn around and meet their eyes. You can read the question in their big, hopeful, eyes, the way Chan runs his hand through his hair nervously. You give them a small nod and an even smaller hand gesture that tells them to keep it quiet, but Hyunjin can’t entirely fight off the triumphant smile that threatens to take over his face. But they step back, dutifully bow, stand by as you pass them and follow you back to where your two crews are waiting.
The crews are quiet, each amongst themselves, eyeing each other curiously, but not a single pirate reaching out to the other yet. You’re proud of your men, proud of their loyalty, that they waited for you to come back. A memory bubbles up. Minho, spread out in your sheets, chest bare, hair mussed, both his arms crossed behind his head. His eyes closed, a pleased, almost proud smile on his face. ‘Well, of course they’re loyal. They have the best captain in the seven seas. They’d be stupid not to be.’
“Men,” the Captain announces, and silence falls over both crews. You ache, but a salty breeze picks up, and you feel more alive than you have in days.
“Han Yujun will pay today. We will get our pay and what he owes us for trying to fuck us over.”
A cheer runs through his crew, rowdy and loud. He holds up a palm and they fall silent.
“Captain Y/N and her crew are here for him, too. They have their own fight with him, one that demands his head. And I think it’s safe to say it’s in the interest of all of us, as men, as pirates, as the outcasts of this wretched society, that he is finally dealt with. Captain Y/N will make sure he pays with his life. Let’s make sure we give her and her crew all the support she might need.”
“Three cheers for captain Y/N! Let the pig die!” A voice exclaims from amongst the ranks of the Captain’s crew. Kind eyes, wide nose, half long hair. A memory of his tireless patience, teaching you how to shoot on the outskirts of Nassau in the burning midday sun. Sungjin gives you a smile and a wink. The smile you give him back is almost real.
When you turn to your crew, the first eyes you meet are Felix’s. He refused to be left behind today, fighting proficiency be damned. He said it was because, if Han Yujun was going to die, he wanted to be there to see it with his own eyes. But you think he probably also couldn’t stand the idea of being all alone on the ship with no way of knowing if everyone would come back. You had made Changbin promise to protect him at all costs.
Felix’s expression is grave, determined. He nods, knots his hands together in front of his chest. This is good. I have a good feeling about this he seems to say. You’re inclined to agree, for once. He sticks a fist into the air.
“Down with Han Yujun!” he yells, at the top of his lungs.
Your crew cheers, so does the Captain’s. A small smile creeps onto your face.
At least if you die today, they will still be here.
And so begins the long traipse through town. It’s quite the spectacle: A gaggle of almost 70 rowdy pirates, stomping and singing, rattling their swords, battle cries and laughter, spearheaded by you and the captain, followed closely by Chan and Changbin, Hyunjin and Felix right behind you.
It becomes quite clear, quite quickly that the Captain’s men are louder than yours – and a great deal more bloodthirsty. It’s evident in every single one of their raucous yells. The townspeople that happen to be in your path scramble to get out of your way, hiding in shops and alleys, peering at you with wide eyes. It was oddly satisfying, and so liberating. No false restraint, no playing nice or coy or pretending like you aren’t on a warpath. Only rage, determination, momentum.
But once you finally leave the expensive part of town behind, pass from clean paved streets into the dusty, dirty roads of the poorer districts, the mood changes. Children come running, men and women stick their heads out of windows, doors, watch with fascination as you march through. Some of the Captain’s pirates yell to them, tell them that you’re heading to the governor’s place, that the governor will die today – and before long, there’s cheering, locals joining in with the raucous yells, some working men even joining your procession, with shoddy weapons of their own, more determination in their face than sense. But you don’t stop them.
An uprising against Han Yujun had been unthinkable for so long, his bloody reign over the island and stores of his power seemingly endless – but now, with a small army of angry people, thirsty for justice, there was a chance. And you wouldn’t want to take this chance at revenge from anyone.
And God, maybe you were empty, maybe it was hard to live, but this is what you’d been fighting for for years. You and … you and Minho. Together. If you know one thing, it’s that he would’ve wanted you to finish it. He would’ve wanted you to pull through, make him proud. The pain shudders through your body, but it’s warm this time. You will make him proud. You will avenge him and Jisung. It won’t bring them back, but it will bring you just a sliver of peace.
When you lift your head, Han Yujun’s house lies right in front of you, at the end of the street. At first glance, it looks a lot like Trott’s, though where that one was a cheerful yellow, this one’s a ghostly white, weathered with time and bleached by the sun. It’s also twice as big, the garden only sparsely planted, an ugly water fountain in the middle of the too short lawn. The columns on his house are marble, so are the tasteless statues, cheap copies of European art, no doubt, dotted around. Your stomach turns at the display of wealth when you know what he has been doing to the people.
You approach the gate and the Captain’s men press forward, shove against it until the chain breaks with a loud clank.
A guard appears from the right. He’s dumbstruck for a moment, staring at you, the huge, never-ending group of angry pirates and townspeople, and pales. He scrambles for a tiny gold whistle on his lapel, and he manages to blow one shrill signal before he’s tackled to the ground by one of the Captain’s men.
From the house, what you believe is the courtyard, ten men come running, their weapons drawn, looking behind themselves as they approach. They’re out of breath, one of them already has a deep gash in his arm.
“How …” you mumble out, perplexed. “How are we not the first? Who else is here?!”
The Captain next to you mirrors your confusion, orders his men to spread out, to search the grounds, so there aren’t any more surprises hiding in the expensive English azalea bushes while Chan and Changbin effortlessly step forward to take care of the men from the courtyard.
And that’s when you see it. Out of the corner of your eye.
Emerald green silk, fluttering from a window on the top floor.
Your heart threatens to give out.
It’s Jisung’s jacket, there’s no doubt about it. It’s tied around a broken window frame by its sleeves, fluttering in the stiff breeze, the shining threads shimmering in the sun.
You try to breathe through the sense of urgency, but it's like something’s tugging you forward, as you push past Chan and Changbin. Two more guards try to get into your way. You fight one of them, Hyunjin cuts down the other one effortlessly. The one you’re fighting catches you in the arm with his small knife, but you pay it no mind. More guards come, but your crew has your back. You ignore the blood, the bruising pain as you push forward, towards the house, the courtyard, past the ugly fountain and the azalea bushes.
You round the corner, push your cutlass into the guts of the last guard when you see him–
No jacket, only his white, ruched shirt with one whole sleeve missing, honey skin glistening, brown hair wild and flying as he fights three guards. He’s pouting and scowling, determined, as always, and you swallow down a sob.
Hyunjin rushes past you, and so does Chan, yelling Jisung’s name in relief as they strike at his attackers.
Jisung’s eyes widen, his lips pull into a beautiful, heartbreaking, entirely alive smile and then his eyes meet yours and you run.
The air rushes through your hair and then straight out of your lungs when you crash into Jisung. His arms flying around your waist, lifting you off your feet until your legs can wrap around his waist.
“Baby,” he whispers, eyes wide in surprise, before you lean in and kiss him.
Peaches and sweat and copper and the smell you’ve been sleeping in that’s been fading for the last two weeks but better.Real. Alive.
You breathe him in like it’s the last thing you’ll do on this earth, threading your hands into his soft hair, scratching at his nape until he hums. And he kisses you back, his hand running up your back, pressing you closer, tongue slipping into your mouth, and you want to crawl into his skin. There’s probably blood on your hands, on his, smearing over his neck and the back of your coat. But you don’t care. How could you, when he’s right here. You force yourself to pull back, just enough so you can speak.
“You’re alive …” you whisper, and he melts, his eyes softening, spit slick lips pulling into a smile that feels like the sun is rising.
“I am, baby,” he murmurs. The emptiness inside you throbs.
“Minho …” you breathe, your hands tightening on Jisung’s shoulders.
Realisation zaps over his feature, and he pulls you closer, so close to his body it feels like he’s holding you together, keeping you from falling apart.
“He is, too,” Jisung mumbles, cups your face when the first tear falls. “He’s here, too. We’re both okay, darling. They didn’t get us.”
Relief. Blinding, unbelievable, too good to be true. It’s so big, so all-consuming that it’s too terrifying. You can’t, don’t dare hope until he’s in front of you, not when something else could rip him away from you still.
Your next words force themselves out of your brittle, aching body before you can stop them. Because even if he isn’t, Jisung is right here. You need to tell him. You need him to know.
“I … I love you.”Jisung looks entirely speechless, then he smiles. Your soul sings. He chuckles breathlessly.
“I know, I love you, too.”
A door slams open on the other end of the courtyard and Jisung presses a swift but sweet kiss to your lips before he drops you to your feet. You land, ready. Jisung smirks at you, so maddeningly beautiful, handsome, irresistible the way his eyes glint.
“Now let’s kill my uncle.”
< interlude - chapter XI (coming friday, may 17, 3pm CET) >
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Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion | EP. 2 APATURA IRIS
— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —
“Then dare me,” you continue. “Dare me to do whatever you want.”
[ abstract ]: After a rough break up during semester break, you’re put in a class with none other than your longtime academic rival Han Jisung once university starts again. Things don’t get any easier considering he’s your older brother’s best friend and destiny decides to assign you two to a partner project. Luckily, you can distract yourself a little by chatting with the mysterious guy you met online a couple of months ago, getting closer both emotionally and physically with him, absolutely unaware he might be nearer than you would expect…
[ general ]: jisung + fem reader, gamer + stoner jisung, gamer reader, academic rivals/enemies → lovers, brother’s best friend, minho is reader’s slightly older brother, college au, smut + angst + fluff, accidental online dating, inexperienced jisung + inexperienced reader [ real life ] vs simp jisung + brat reader [ online ] so they act a lot differently while chatting, please refer to series m.list for more info
[ warning ]: explicit sexual scenes [includes sexting and video sexting, masturbation (m + f), reader gets called doll, switch dynamics, mention of choking, one small makeout session ], consumption of alcohol, a lot of jealousy from both of them, mention of perv behaviour (jisung)
[ words ]: 6.8K
[ note ]: I'm back with the next chapter!! Thank you for the INSANE suport on the first part, I love and appreciate you guys s much. If you liked this episode too, I'd be very grateful about any kind reblog, comment, ask or DM!! Also, make sure to read The Experience Project, my other series that is part of the same universe!! Lots of love, Cece 🩷
“What on earth?”
You wake up to your roommate Yuna screaming through the shared apartment. Before your eyes open in order to take in the mess, your ears are already able to witness what’s going on. With whatever strength you’ve left—being ripped out of a very pleasant dream about j.0ne—you swing your legs to the side.
You get up and toddle towards where the screeching sound of your friend’s voice evaporated from, just for your feet to come in contact with water. On the floor of your kitchen and bathroom.
“W-What happened?” you ask, half-awake.
“We’ve got a burst pipe. I can’t seem to find a way to stop it,” she says, hysterically although she looks rather calm.
“We can solve this. It’s okay. I’ll call the emergency janitor service.”
Your sleep for the night ends at this point since Yuna and you have to be evacuated from the chaos that is now your apartment. A duffel bag and another backpack is what you take with you, before your roommate and you rush to Hannah who is living on the other side of the city.
The first two days are alright but you soon realise that your best friend’s apartment is way too tiny to fit the three of you. So, you suggest finding another place—despite the protests—telling them you could just stay at your brother’s flat. Sure, it won’t be ideal, regarding the fact that he’s as busy as you and double the amount of annoying, but Yuna doesn’t have another place to be at as long as your shared one is being repaired.
With your bags sticking to your body, you climb up the stairs and ring the doorbell.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
What a welcoming melody.
“Where’s Minho? And why are you here?”
Jisung rolls his eyes. “Taking a shower.”
“Great, I’ll let myself in,” you say, before you push your brother’s best friend away and enter the apartment.
Your belongings land on the floor, splattered out on the ground and you keep on wondering how Minho and you could grow up so similarly—and yet be so different. While his place is neat and tidy, yours isn’t that much of a new level chaos wise after the burst pipe, if you’re honest.
You walk towards the little kitchen and grab yourself some water, before you turn around and take a glimpse at Jisung. He’s scrolling through his phone giggling like a little school girl. You wanna be annoyed. Because everything this guy does brings out built up anger inside of you, but when you watch those heart eyes that are practically glued to the dim lit screen, a weird feeling rises inside your chest that you can’t quite categorise.
“Y/N, hey, why’re you here? Is everything okay?”
You turn around and find your older brother, severely worried why you show up at his place without an announcement. You’re the opposite from spontaneous, so this is nothing like you.
“Burst pipe in our apartment. Can I stay here for a bit?”
“Sure,” he immediately says and walks towards you, patting your head and you cringe a little when he destroys the style that you spent a n ungodly amount of time on to create.
“What– but what about me, Minho?” you hear a voice echoing from the distance, perhaps Jisung, your brain has been doing a good job in ignoring his existence.
“Sorry, man. Is it okay if you stay at Felix’s place?”
Jisung wants to complain. He really does. He came here last night for the same reason, searching for a place after a similar issue in his apartment—he lives in the same student dormitory as you after all so perhaps it’s a general thing—and now he’s getting kicked out.
“Yeah, fine. I have to pack my things first, though,” he says with an annoyed voice but it doesn’t differ much from the tone he uses around you on a daily basis.
“I’m sorry,” your brother repeats.
“It’s okay, I get it.” Because he does. Despite the mixed feelings he’s had for you all his life, Jisung understands that Minho would let you live at his place first before him. After all, he can just go to Felix’s and his roommate’s apartment and sleep on their couch.
Minho gives him a smile, “Cool, thanks, bro.”
“No biggie. I wanted to try out this new DLC with Felix anyway,” Jisung explains.
Your brother’s attention gets caught, as he averts his gaze towards his best friend again. “Ah, great! Let me know what it’s like so I know if I should buy it once I've got more time for gaming again.”
“Which new DLC?” you interrupt them, wanting to know too. You hate when Jisung pretends you’re not in the room when he talks about video games with Minho while being fully aware it’s one of your hobbies too.
“The game is called Levanter. You wouldn’t understand,” Jisung says with a wink.
That bastard. You’re not sure if he knows but it’s one of your favourites too and Minho must have mentioned it at some point when these two were together, right? Or, well, perhaps you’re not necessarily the centre of topics when they’re together. Obviously.
“The fuck you mean? I play this game too,” you tell him.
“Cool,” is all he says before he brings his focus back to your brother. “Ah, Min. I can also ask the girl I’ve been talking to. She said she’s interested as well.”
What? Jisung has been talking to someone? While there’s this odd sensation inside your belly again, you can’t lose an opportunity to mock him.
You get a bit closer, your arms crossed in front of your chest, “A girl? A girl is talking to you? How much are you paying her per hour?”
Jisung rolls his eyes, before he takes a step towards you. Suddenly—when Minho decides to leave the conversation and get back to the kitchen—the atmosphere from a few nights ago at the club is back. You don’t remember much but you have a memory of your brother’s best friend and you standing outside the building, dangerously close to the brick wall. It’s the same again this time. He’s almost towering over you, making your body hit the wall behind you.
His lips are right at your ear now, making you paralysed, as he whispers, “Very funny, Y/N. You won’t believe it but we’re doing a lot more than talking. Just this morning she sent me another pic of herself while arching her back in front of a mirror and wearing nothing but lingerie—just for me.”
That feeling is back again. Eating you alive from the inside. Anger. Fury. Annoyance. All of the above. The jealousy you’re feeling is so harsh that your brain successfully manages to push away the fact that Jisung is talking to someone online, too. Just like you.
So, you decide to play it cool, when you look him in the eyes and scoff, “Who on earth would be so desperate to send nudes to you?”
All he does is laugh, while you watch him click his tongue. You gulp but try to hide it. What is this weird feeling that’s bubbling up inside your stomach? You’re not jealous of Jisung again, are you? You thought you left the stage of crushing on your brother’s best friend in highschool. That’s why you agreed on even going on a date with Seojun when you were finally ready. Well, for nothing.
But you’ve got j.0ne now. He will help you get over whatever feelings are trying to rise up to the surface of your heart again.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” you announce, before you make a turn and head to the bathroom.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: how was your day?
The message reaches you when you’re sitting on the couch with Minho in the evening, but you still decide to reply. Your brother doesn’t seem to notice anyway.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Chaotic and stressful
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: But I’m fine
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Now that you’re texting me
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: simp
You giggle. And for a second you fear that Minho hears it but he doesn’t. He’s too occupied with texting as well. Whoever the hell he’s talking to.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Talking about yourself?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I have a little something for you
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: make sure to open it in private
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: [attached picture]
You rush to the bathroom, noticing that Minho is now deeply focused on the animal documentary playing on his TV.
Once you’re out of sight for your brother, you open the message and are greeted with a sweet treat after this long and exhausting day.
J.0ne isn’t wearing a shirt—once again—his abs glistening in the dim light of what seems to be his bathroom. Another video follows, almost the same scene, but this time he’s guiding the camera downwards, revealing he’s only got a towel wrapped around his hips.
Until he hasn’t anymore.
The fabric drops down in an instant, revealing his hardening cock to the mirror and his phone. Fuck. You shouldn’t be watching this while being in Minho’s bathroom.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you’re such a tease, j
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: been thinking about you all day, doll ;)
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I even had to skip my lecture and go to one of the bathrooms on campus
You can’t believe he decided to touch himself in a public—although hidden—space because of you. The idea of it gets you going and you notice how you're squeezing your legs together.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: and such a pervert.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I just can’t help myself
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you sent that pretty picture this morning
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: how am I supposed to think straight hm
This is so wrong. But you can’t help yourself either.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: look what you do to me
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: [attached video]
Fuck. In order to gain some consciousness, you drop down on the chair inside Minho’s bathroom, before you bring your focus back to the chat.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: pls, doll, pls
You like this version of j.0ne too. You’ve learnt a lot about him—and yourself—during these past weeks. He can be the submissive one too, as it seems. And he enjoys it a lot, just as much as you do.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Please, what?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You need to be a bit more specific.
You like taking the lead as well, especially whenever he’s so desperate for you. It’s a whole different setting but that’s what you adore so much about him. It’s never boring and always so… right. It just feels right, whatever you do with him. As if you’ve known each other for ages.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i need to touch myself
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m thinking of you
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: what you’d do with me if i was with you right now
You double check if the door is locked and come back to the chair. You’re not able to help yourself—so while one hand is busy typing another message, the other one wanders inside your pyjama pants.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Tell me more
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Come on, pretty boy
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I need all the details
Because you do. You want this to be as immersive as possible.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you’d be sitting on my face
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: riding it
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: until I can’t breathe anymore
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you’d taste so good on my lips and tongue
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: when you come all over my face
Oh, God. Your fingers have passed your underwear, two of them slipping inside your aching hole without any effort—that’s the effect he has on you.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: More, baby
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I’m not quite convinced yet
Your thumb is busy stimulating your clit, while you continue to read all his messages.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: then you’d ride me
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: choke me
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: and kiss me stupid
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: but I can’t think properly anymore
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: because your pussy would feel so goddamn good around my dick
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You’d be a good boy for me, hm?
Oh, of course he would.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: yeah
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i promise
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’d make you come so many times
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: make you moan my name
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: and you’d keep riding me
Your pyjama shorts and panties are pooling around your ankles now, so you have better access. You keep pleasuring yourself, completely surprised about how easily you’re getting turned on today but you blame it on all the stress.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: fuck
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i need to
You click on the button.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [incoming video call]
He accepts it.
You watch him stroke his pretty cock and you don’t know if it’s the camera angle, but he looks bigger than usual. And rock hard. Just for you.
You try to drown out your moans but some whimpers still make it to the microphone, when you keep touching yourself, spreading your cunt open while you watch j.0ne getting dangerously close to his high.
It happens in the blink of an eye—hot white spurts of cum land on the mirror in front of him, as his pretty groans fill his bathroom. You reach your climax a little later, trying to desperately drown out all the noises, before you end the call again.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you were oddly silent today
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: getting shy again , doll?
It’s a mystery to you how he can switch personas so easily.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I’m at a family member’s place. So I had to be a little quiet.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: hmm
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: such a needy girl
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: can’t even get through one day without touching herself to the thought of me
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You’re one to say that, J
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: thank you for tonight, baby
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Thank you too 🥰🥰
“Y/N,” Jisung says when he sees you entering the study room he’s booked for you.
“Han,” you reply.
Your enemy rolls his eyes when you pick his family’s name again to refer to him but he brushes it off, before he pulls the chair next to him away from the table for you to sit down.
“Wow, what a gentleman you are.”
He takes a closer look at you once you’re beside him and Jisung can feel his breath get stuck in his throat. His eyes widen but you don’t seem to notice. However, he has observed a certain detail that makes his head spin. Usually, he isn’t that quick with grasping things like this but this can’t be a coincidence, right? He’d remember that jewellery out of a thousand anywhere.
You’re wearing that necklace. That butterfly shaped pendant.
That same one that baby_butt3fly is wearing in all the nudes she sent him. Jisung quickly shakes his head, pushing away the occuring thoughts inside his head. This can’t be, right?
“Han? Are you listening?”
He’s dragged out of his spiral of thoughts, when your voice finds his ears. He shakes his head, trying to gain focus again. “Y-Yeah. Sorry. I’m here.”
When he tilts his head and witnesses your expression, Jisung can tell you’re already annoyed with him.
“Good. Whatever the hell is going on in your stoner head again.” You scroll to the next page of the text you’re currently reading. “Any topic ideas?”
Right, he’s here for the uni project the two of you got assigned to. He’s not here to wonder if there might be a very clear connection between you and the girl he’s been texting.
“What is the class about again? Current problems of the music industry, right?”
You roll your eyes. Wow. He seems to be very prepared for your study meeting. “Yeah.”
“How about something related to AI?” he instantly proposes, surprising you with how quick he has an idea. An idea that you actually find useful.
“Oh, I like that, I constantly complain about it too,” you agree. “Maybe compared with overconsumption. Perhaps, how consumers crave more and more content in a much shorter span of time and artists barely can keep up. You have to be faster and better every day.”
He nods, giving you a smile which you try to ignore, “Love that. Throw in some TikTokification of the creative industry and we’re already there.”
Sometimes it feels as if the two of you share some brain cells. At least considering artsy and creative processes. It’s the same whenever you hang out with Chan in the studio. Your best friend’s brother, Jisung and another shared friend of theirs—Changbin—work part time for a music production firm while you are an employee for the same company—just for a different team with Hannah and Yunjin. So, it’s nothing unusual that you decide to work together from time to time. And you’ve noticed it before, music wise speaking, Jisung and you seem to be on the same page pretty often.
“Wow. I’m surprised that we have a common ground for once in our life,” you still say, ignoring the inner monologue you just had.
“That’s a lie, Y/N,” Jisung replies. Obviously, he must be thinking about all the hours spent inside the studio.
“Hm?”
“Have you forgotten how much we both used to enjoy daring each other with the stupidest shit when we were younger?”
Oh, you remember that one too. Although you didn’t expect him to go this way.
It started out rather harmless, when Jisung had just turned five and you were still four—he will forever make fun of you for being just slightly younger than him, not even a full year—and you were sitting outside in the huge garden behind the house you grew up in. Minho’s father and your mother had just gotten married, giving you a new step brother who made it his new goal in life to always protect you. However, Minho was in bed that day, having caught a bad fever, and when Jisung came over to play there was just you who was there.
You didn’t get along right from the beginning—which hasn’t quite changed until this day—perhaps solely based on the fact of both being rather shy children and not speaking much. Until Jisung told you how his older brother said that girls can’t climb up trees. Fury sparkled inside your eyes and you made your first bet. He dared you to clamber up that old zelkova in the backyard which you did with no effort. From that day on, he kind of admired you although he would never admit that. You looked like a pretty butterfly up there between the limbs and leaves.
“I could never forget about them. After all, I won more often than you,” you tease him, clicking your tongue.
Jisung pretends to be offended although it could be real too. “Excuse me—what? Nah, you’re the loser when it comes to this.”
“Ah, really?”
You lean closer and Jisung can feel his heart drop down to his stomach. He senses his pulse pumping through his veins and he prays for his life that his blood won’t rush down to his dick at any second. But how can he stay normal when you’re so close, wearing that short dress combined with a tight sweater that gives him a nice idea of what you might look like under the fabric. Get it together, Jisung.
“Then dare me,” you continue. “Dare me to do whatever you want.”
Jisung gulps. Fuck. Rationally speaking, he knows you didn’t mean it like this. But he wishes you said this to him in a much more forbidden situation. He shushes the thoughts away, especially when he thinks about the fact that he’s finally got a crush on another girl after all these years of silently and secretly simping for you—his best friend's younger sister. The girl he met online has done a great job to bring his attention away from you and to her. And thinking about you the way he’s done since his teenage years feels utterly wrong, almost like cheating although he’s not in a serious relationship with user baby_butt3rfly. Well, he doesn’t even know what she fully looks like. Or what her name is.
“You want me to dare you to do anything?”
You raise one of your eyebrows. It’s still so much fun to tease Jisung like that. “Hm, anything.”
Until you see his gaze darken.
“I’ve got something for you. Little Miss Innocent.”
“Innocent?”
“Hm, at least that’s what everyone thinks you are. Chan, Minho, Changbin. And I think they’re right. I’ve never seen you with a guy or a girl.”
The dagger that he shoves inside your heart—unaware of the fact that you’re reminded of both Seojun and the fact that he seems to perceive you in a way that differs a lot from reality—hurts and you get thrown off the wagon for a second. But only until you remind yourself that you’re betting with Jisung.
“Not everyone shares their escapades, just so you know,” you say with a wink. You’re not lying. After all, you came in front of your computer camera three nights in a row, while a stranger—Discord user j.0ne—was either calling you his good girl or begged you to call him your good boy with no end. “And you also don’t have to think I’m anything like you, Jisung. I’ve never seen you with anyone either.”
“Alright,” he says, “then whoever finds someone first to passionately make out with tonight at the semester opening party, wins the bet.”
“What’s the loser gonna do?” you ask, leaning back on your chair.
“Oh, you mean, what are you gonna have to do after I win? Uhm, let’s see,” he starts, his eyes wandering around in the study room, as he pretends to brainstorm, “how about, whoever loses the bet has to do 75% of our shared project?”
That seems fair. Although it’s not. But you’re so confident about this bet that you won’t worry. “Ugh, whatever, I’m fine with that. After all, it doesn’t concern me anyway since I’m gonna win.”
Jisung smirks, reaching out his hand and finding yours, palms meeting one another.
“Good luck, Y/N,” he says.
“To you too, Han.”
A few hours later you find yourself on campus with your close friends, a drink in one hand and your phone in the other one, currently taking silly selfies with Yunjin. It’s nice to forget about all the struggles that have been harassing your mind for the past minutes—the drama with Seojun, your apartment issues, the project you have to do with Jisung. Tonight is only about having fun.
And winning a bet.
Well, yeah, speaking of winning a bet—you thought about just making out with one of your female friends but you know that Jisung won’t let that one slide. You wonder if it’s the same thing if you kissed Changbin or Chan, considering they are your friends too, but you’re sure that he’d count that. As dumb and heteronormative as it is. But you have a much higher trust level with your girlfriends than with Hannah’s older brother, that is for sure. So, if you want to make it believable without kissing some stranger because you don’t feel like doing that, Chan might be your victim of the night.
But you push that idea aside, after all you still have time. Jisung is busy buying another round of beers for his friends and himself, when you decide to approach him—confidence being induced by the beverages you’ve had so far.
“Hey, loser,” you greet your brother’s best friend.
He rolls his eyes when he sees you, before taking a sip from his beer, “What are you? A high school bully that wants my lunch money?”
“Duh, I’m calling you a loser because I’m about to win this little game that we’re playing,” you remind him.
He tilts his head. “I told you kissing one of your friends doesn’t count.”
“And kissing one of your friends?”
Faster than Jisung is able to react, he watches you storm off in the distance, searching for a certain someone. Perhaps, it’s not necessarily a friend of his that you have in mind but they for sure are part of the same friend group.
You take a look all over campus, finding a friend that studies the same minor as you. Hwang Hyunjin. He would definitely be down to make out with you. Even more. You’ve never thought you’d get that desperate since you’ve never viewed him in anything but a platonic light but if you wanna win this bet this will do.
But you know that Jisung despises him for whatever reason that you can’t explain. And wouldn’t it be a blast to make out with your enemy’s enemy?
Then you see a girl approach Hyunjin, getting dangerously close to him with two new drinks and he places his lips on her neck. Yeah, screw that. You thought you could count on him but you guess you were wrong.
Okay, abort that mission.
You consider searching for some stranger again but the idea doesn’t really faze you. You’ve never been into one night stands and such—yes, this is only about a little kiss but still—so this idea is immediately deleted again. Apart from that, making out with one of Jisung’s friend just sounds like the most diabolical plan you’ve ever had. It’s like hitting three birds with a stone—you win the bet, you can get on Jisung’s last nerve with it and ignore the jealousy driven feeling that’s been bubbling up inside your stomach the whole day.
What would j.0ne think if he saw you like this? Is this being unfaithful? It’s not as if you’re a couple or anything close to that and you’re sure he’s got a hundred other girls lining up and even sending him nudes—although the idea makes you nauseous—so why should you feel bad?
Well, you still own something called a guilty conscience and it doesn’t feel right to make out with some random guy at a party just to video call your Discord boy later.
But you decide to ignore that part, until another idea enters your mind. You can just ask a friend for help. A certain someone pops up in your mind and you grab your phone from your skirt’s pocket—yes, this one has pockets—to text him. He should be around here too, very likely near Jisung.
[ You ]: Channiiiieee
He immediately responds.
[ Chan 🐺 ]: Yeah?
You type again.
[ You ]: I need a favour 🥺👉🏻👈🏻
[ Chan 🐺 ]: I will not be helping you with any of your dumb bets with Jisung.
How on earth does he know? Jisung must have told him and you’re not even surprised.
[ You ]: Channie pls ):
[ Chan 🐺 ]: What is it this time? Whoever drinks more? Dancing on a table? Something with drugs???
Oh, so he knows about the bet itself but not what it’s about.
[ You ]: No…
[ You ]: Whoever finds someone to make out
[ You ]: Can you pls help me find a person
[ Chan 🐺 ]: I will not.
You sigh, before you type again.
[ You ]: Channie pls ):
[ Chan 🐺 ]: This won’t get you anywhere, Y/N.
Ugh, you can never count on Mr. Drama-free. Is he sure he’s a Libra man?
[ Chan 🐺 ]: I’ve got another idea though.
That sparks curiosity. Well, you’ve had that idea before too but you didn’t want to approach your friend that directly, right?
[ You ]: Yeah???
[ Chan 🐺 ]: We can just make out.
You get reminded of the fact that he’s just a man. A very predictable one like all of them. But he’s willing to help a girl out so you don’t complain.
[ You ]: You’re joking aren’t you??
You pretend to be surprised although this just works right into your plan.
[ Chan 🐺 ]: Hey
[ Chan 🐺 ]: Is the idea of kissing me so disgusting??
If you’re honest, you’ve never thought about it. You don’t view Chan in a light like that. But it’ll be okay in order to win the bet.
[ You ]: No
[ You ]: Tbh you have pretty lips 😊
[ Chan 🐺 ]: You too 😌
However, you don’t quite get why he would even propose that idea, now that you think about it. So, you ask further.
[ You ]: What do you get out of this??
[ Chan 🐺 ]: I saw my ex around here. With the guy she told me not to worry about.
This and another reason related to Jisung that he can’t tell you.
[ You ]: Yikes, I’m sorry…
[ Chan 🐺 ]: It’s okay. So we’ve got a deal?
[ You ]: Yes!!
[ You ]: You’re sure that’s okay? it won’t make anything weird?
Ruining this precious friendship with someone like Chan is the last thing you want.
[ Chan 🐺 ]: It won’t, I promise. I’m just doing this to help my good friend.
[ Chan 🐺 ]: Also, we should make sure Hannah doesn’t see us. She can’t know about this.
Fuck, right. Chan is still your best friend’s brother. How in your success-hungry mind could you not remember that?
[ You ]: Oh god obv yes!! I totally forgot about that part 😳😳
[ Chan 🐺 ]: It’s okay.
[ Chan 🐺 ]: Then come here, babygirl.
You burst out into laughter and the people that are standing next to you start looking your way, but you ignore them.
[ You ]: 💀💀
[ You ]: don’t ever say that again
How on earth are you supposed to stay serious and kiss him when he texts shit like that? Has this ever worked on someone?
[ Chan 🐺 ]: Sorry, it sounded better in my head 😭
[ Chan 🐺 ]: Hurry up now before I change my mind.
Jisung realises that his last drink might have been too much. He gave up on the bet a long time ago, realising that he doesn’t feel like kissing anyone tonight except for you or the girl he’s been talking to online.
God, he’s so pathetic for still having a crush on you after all these years. And here he was thinking that the woman from Discord could maybe distract him a little. The good part about being a bit beyond the level of tipsy is that he forgets about the similarities between you two. That stupid necklace. You’ve probably just bought it on Etsy or somewhere, so it’s just a coincidence that the other girl has it too, right?
He takes a few steps out of the crowd, searching for a garbage can to throw away his empty plastic cup until something crosses his vision that he didn’t want to see at all.
Your lips on Chan’s.
Chan’s lips on yours.
As you two are standing there, he’s grabbing you by the neck, your fingers entangled with his.
You for sure did take the bet seriously. Passionately. That’s what he’d describe this make out session. He wants to drag Chan away from you and replace his lips with his own, showing you who you really belong to although he’s lost his chance a while ago.
Jisung watches you pull away from his older friend, giving him one last peck before Chan whispers something into your ear and leaves you there for a moment. When you turn around, you instantly witness Jisung—after all, you’ve strategically chosen this certain spot to make out with Chan, in the hopes of your enemy to find you.
You chuckle, before you approach him.
“Congrats, Y/N,” he says, avoiding eye contact.
“You’re such a sore loser, Han,” you tease him. And God, you’re so glad that you did what you did. The kiss wasn’t anything spectacular—not that you’ve kissed many people—since Chan and you are nothing more than friends, that’s what you are sure of especially after this kiss. But you seem to be a good actress. On top of that, it helped you get rid of the weird jealousy feeling you’ve been having all day.
“Have a good night,” he says, before he turns around on his feet.
“Jisung, wait–“
That’s all? Something seems off. Perhaps he’s had too much to drink, but when you try to follow him in order to ask him if he’s fine—just like he did with you a couple of days ago—you lose him in the crowd. Fuck. All the calls you leave aren’t answered either.
Meanwhile Jisung is searching for the first exit he finds, fighting for dear life when he feels the tears pricking in his eyes.
You said you were over her.
Get it together, man.
Not in public, do not fucking cry in public, you idiot.
He knows he shouldn’t talk to himself this way but today is just a fucking horrible day, as it seems. The entire subway ride is spent listening to some loud music on his headphones and staring out the window, as Jisung desperately tries to get rid of that scene inside his head of you and Chan kissing.
When he arrives at Felix’s apartment, no one’s at home so he decides to plop down on the couch and turn on the TV.
When Jisung grabs out his phone for the first time, he thinks about texting you. He opens the chat but just stares at the screen for a solid minute, before he closes it again.
Until he receives a notification.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: heyyyy how was your day
Of course, his favourite girl was gonna save the day.
You receive an answer from j.0ne when you’re back home.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: absolute shit tbh
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: but how bout you doll?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: are you fine?
God, you feel sorry that he’s had similar issues today. But maybe comforting him will help you get your mind off whatever the hell that last interaction with Jisung was.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: hmm I should be
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I went out with friends but idk my mood kinda went down from one sec to another
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: why’s that?
You don’t feel like opening up at the moment. You trust your new friend, you really do, but distraction is what you need right now.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: idk
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: what’s on your mind, doll?
Why does he need to be so… caring? You could fall in love with him right away.
In case this hasn’t happened yet anyway.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: don’t wanna talk about it
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: that’s fine
You decide to turn the conversation around and towards whatever is going on in his life.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: and you? what pissed you off today?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: nothing important. just a lot of stress rn and a party I went to was shit so I should have just stayed home.
You feel like this would have been the better option, too. What did you get out of tonight? A few hours of fun with your friends and a stupid bet that you could have lived without. Yeah, kissing someone was nice, but you’d rather have j.0ne with you anyway. So, what’s the use in it?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: yeah, me too
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: then we could have spend some time together you know ;)
One good thing did happen, though. Or, well, it did not happen.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: but hey at least I didn’t see my ex at the party this time
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m glad!
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: this guy should stop haunting you
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: or I’m gonna find him and break his nose
You catch your lower lip between your teeth, imagining j.0ne as your knight in shining armour, who protects you from all the evil in this world—Seojun.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: J… I’ve never seen you so violent
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Kinda hot ngl
You are turned on by his sentence, you can’t deny that.
But he switches the conversation around, since he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for anything like this and that’s okay.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you’re cute
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Cute? You think I’m cute?
You don’t know what he means with that. Whenever Seojun called you cute, he used that word to belittle you, make you feel like an unrealistic dreamer.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i think you’re adorable, doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i enjoy talking to you
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: spending time with you
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: not just sexually
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: generally
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you manage to put a smile on my face every day so thank you for being in my life
Oh, God. You’re gonna cry. How is your heart supposed to survive this?
Is he even real?
You doubt it more every day.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Woah
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Simp
There was no way you were gonna miss this chance.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: 🙄🙄
Still, you decide to show him the same thankfulness.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I’m kidding
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I’m glad to have you too J ❤️
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You’ve helped me so much
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I can’t talk to anyone the same way that we do
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Not even my closest friends
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: So, thank you for being here
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: ❤️❤️
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: can I share something with you?
You decide to get a bit more comfortable on the sofa, taking a quick glimpse to the front door of your brother’s apartment but he doesn’t seem to be home yet.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Always, go on
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: before I start, no need to get jealous, yeah? I only have eyes for you but I saw a girl at a party tonight that I used to have a crush on…
Your heart drops down. At least by a kilometre. Although he told you to not get jealous, how are you supposed to just ignore that?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Oh
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Did… did you talk or?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: not really
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i saw her kissing one of my friends
Oh, God. That’s awful. That’s even worse than seeing your ex and Nabi holding hands on campus.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Fuck I’m sorry
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I relate too much with my ex
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Not trying to make this about myself!!
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Just trying to say that I get what it feels like and I’m sorry
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You deserve so much better you know that, right?
You realise you’re rambling. You always do that whenever you’re trying to help someone that you like.
That you like?
Yeah, well, J.0ne is a good friend, right?
Although you wished he’d be more to you than some online friend that you occasionally get off with together.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: do I?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Yeah, J
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I bet your even better irl
You’re sure about it.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: better?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Don’t make me say it
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: but I want you to say it
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: come on
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: be a simp for me for once
You roll your eyes but continue texting anyway.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: fine 🙄🙄
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i bet you’re even more attractive irl
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i know I’d feel safe around you
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you know the other night when I was drunk,,, how you immediately ignored all my flirting and all
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: that’s the bare fucking minimum. this doesn’t make me better.
Your heart aches a little, knowing he’s right.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: maybe my experiences were shit with men and that’s why I praise you for this
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: but it’s not just that
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i have a feeling that you’re a wonderful person inside and outside
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: boyfriend material you know
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: boyfriend material? You want me to be your boyfriend?
Yes, the answer is yes. But you should meet him in the real world first, right?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: maybe…
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: no rush tho
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: we wanted to get to know each other first
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: does this mean you’re ready to meet me irl?
You are. You absolutely are.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I think I am
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: okay
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: me too
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m going on a camping trip with friends this weekend
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: why don’t you join us?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: there’s another girl with us too and I think you would become friends with her in an instant
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: she’s a good friend of mine
You wonder if he’s talking about the girl he took care of that was drunk. But you don’t care. The idea sounds lovely. You can’t wait to meet him. Finally.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’ll send you the details tomorrow, doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: sweet dreams ❤️
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Okay!!
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Goodnight, J ❤️
Before you decide to get ready for bed, you open the chat with Jisung another time and send him a quick message after contemplating for far too long.
[ You ]: Hey, I hope you made it back home safely. You don’t have to do 75% of our project, we will do this the fair way so don’t worry (:
You wait for a text back. You wait more. And even more. But Jisung never replies to you.
© leeknowsallyoursecrets 2024 — copying, stealing or translating my work is prohibited
#han smut#jisung smut#han jisung smut#stray kids fic recs#skz fic recs#stray kids fic rec#skz fic rec#han fic recs#jisung fic recs#han jisung fic recs#han fic rec#jisung fic rec#han jisung fic rec#stray kids smut#skz smut
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oh my god. WHAT. HOW DO I WAIT ANOTHER WEEK BEFORE FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!?!!?!?
🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter IX
pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung
summary: when it rains, it pours
word count: 7.2k
warnings: IF YOU WANT/NEED SPOILERS (FOR YOUR OWN PEACE OF MIND OR ANY OTHER REASON) ABOUT MAIN CHARACTER DEATH PLEASE READ THE SERIES WARNINGS! implied main character death; graphic description of a panic attack; violence; blood; knives; mentions of unprotected sex; mxm action
author's note: okay uh so ... this one's gonna hurt. I'm sorry in advance. please read the warnings carefully! everything I write will end with the characters healing, I promise. but if you need a spoiler about MCD please check the series warnings, I put the answer in there for those who need it (I know how it is, I need to know these things in advance, too askjdfh)
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
series masterlist // skzms masterlist
< chapter VIII - interlude (and chapter X coming friday, may 10, 3pm CET) >
Minho has never been addicted to anything.
The first time he witnessed addiction was as a kid, when his mother turned to drinking to numb the pain. Then he saw it in Changbin, a few years ago, when things got rough for him, and it got so bad that he nearly got himself killed, and the crew had to stage an intervention.
His mother hadn’t lived long enough to see the consequences, and Changbin got better. But Minho had never been addicted to anything. He smokes tobacco every now and again, drinks when they go on land, and he can be sure that either Chan or Changbin are staying with the captain to keep her safe. Even when things got bad, right after his mother died, and he drank more than he should’ve, addiction never caught him. He just stopped one day.
But now, Minho thinks he knows what it feels like.
Minho thought sleeping with Jisung would maybe, just maybe, rid him of his stupid, confusing obsession with him. A one and done type deal, fuck him good and hard and mean and then go back to the way things were meant to be.
But then Jisung wandered back into his arms the day after their night together, all bloodshot eyes and shy glances that asked Minho wordlessly if it was all just for that one night and Minho’s arms pulled him closer, slotted his lips against Jisung’s sweetly, soothed his own over Jisung’s pouty bottom lip, across the corner of his mouth until he could kiss the cute little mole right on his cheek. He bit Jisung’s earlobe right after, trying to distract him from just how gentle he just was. Jisung’s startled little gasp went straight to his dick.
He took him to the captain’s quarters, watched as the captain stared from Jisung to him, her eyes lingering on him with a quiet question.
They hadn’t even fucked the night before, after Jisung left. They spent the evening in bed, lazing around, talking, swapping kisses that made Minho’s already bruised lips and his heart ache until night fell, and he watched her doze off into a deeper sleep. The room, completely quiet, only the lapping of the waves against the wood, the sound of the crew far away, a candlewick crackling. He wanted to stay here forever, in this moment, with her.
Then she fluttered her eyes open, looked right back at him and smiled. He smiled back, hoped it wasn’t written all over his face. When her eyebrows furrowed, he panicked for a brief moment that it was.
“Do you regret it?” she asked, softly.
Relief, then nerves. They had avoided talking about Jisung all night, their conversations like everything was normal. Come to think of it, maybe it’s what Minho, what maybe she also needed. Reassurance that nothing changed, even though everything had.
He watched her closely, briefly tried to figure out what she was thinking, but he gave up just as quickly. No matter how well he knew her, her poker face was too good even for him.
So he opted for the truth. He shook his head.
She watched him, her dark eyes boring into his so intensely, before she hummed, let her eyes slip closed again.
“Me neither,” she simply said.
And that had been the end of it. She had stretched out her hand, lazily tugging Minho closer until his head was next to hers on her pillow, his body folded around her, until she could press sweet, sleepy kisses to his shoulder that made Minho smile, kiss her back just as sweetly, even after they blew out the candle, their lips finding each other in the dark again and again and again until they fell asleep.
It’s not like they didn’t do that. She would kiss him sweetly every now and again, let her fingertips skate up his bare arms when he was holding her. Sometimes, a few drops of his devotion would slip past the tight seal he had on his heart and spill into his kisses, make him do stupid things like whisper “I adore you” into her sweaty hair or let his hand linger on her waist while they were on deck.
But they never did this. Spend the night together, in bed, without fucking. They kissed, sure, but they never kissed like that, for hours and hours, giggling in the dark, kissing just for the sake of it, even when their bruised lips ached and their breaths came ragged. But something had changed. Jisung had changed them, and Minho wasn’t even remotely ready to face the extent of what that meant.
He watched senselessly, then, the day after, after he had kissed Jisung in the hallway where anyone could've seen, with an echo of the captain’s kisses from the night before, before he took him to the her quarters. Watched senselessly as Jisung walked up to her, blinking at her with stars in his eyes, mumbling out the question he hadn’t been ready to ask Minho.
“W-would you want me again?”
And Minho got to watch the captain’s face soften, her beautiful eyes widen, her soft, gentle fingers wrapping around Jisung’s wrists, dragging his hands up until Jisung took the hint and cupped her face. Jisung let his forehead tip forward against hers, eyes fluttered shut, his thumbs soothing over her cheek.
“How could I not want you,” he heard the captain whisper, quietly, painfully honestly, before pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was so gentle, yet turned into tremblingly hungry so quickly it made Minho reel.
He thinks that’s the moment he got addicted. Addicted, in a sick sort of way, to the way Han Jisung touched. Because when Han Jisung touched the captain, it was nothing short of reverential.
He kissed her like he couldn’t believe his own luck, smoothed his hands over her body, from her calves up to her face, like he wanted to drag every ounce of pleasure out of her skin, sank his hands into her hair to pull her closer and closer and closer like he wanted her to climb into his skin and make herself a home there forever.
And just when Minho thought it couldn’t get any worse, Jisung would turn, would look up at Minho with an almost dangerous softness in his eyes, and kiss him with the captain’s taste still on his lips, baring himself to him, always ready to take and take and take whatever Minho gave him, the reverential hands he watched on the captain now skating over his chest, down his abs, scratching at his happy trail until Minho had to suppress the tremor that shuddered through his limbs.
Jisung’s hands. Minho found himself slowly but surely haunted by the image of them. Big and strong, nails neatly kept, veiny and knobby in all the right places, usually adorned with a collection of pretty silver rings that made shivers rack down Minho’s spine when they touched his bare skin.
But it wasn’t even just his hands – no, Han Jisung’s whole body seemed to be made by whatever Gods were out there, to be naked, golden, and smoothed against a lover’s. He kissed with his whole body, an ankle hooking over Minho’s as he caressed his tongue over the roof of his mouth, his fingers lacing with whichever one of theirs he could reach whenever he was about to come, a thigh wedged in between the captain’s as he pressed his chest to hers.
God, his thighs. Minho had spent the better part of an hour a few days into their trip to San Salvador between Jisung’s legs, sucking the supple, impossibly soft golden skin between his teeth until they were littered in pretty purple marks. If he dug his fingers into them every time he kissed him just to hear him gasp, that was between him and God.
Minho was addicted to Han Jisung. And he was terrified.
He was terrified because he couldn’t deny it, the way he made his whole body tremble with every touch, his heart beating in his throat whenever he smiled at him. He was terrified because he had never felt like this for anyone. Not even the captain. And that scared him even more, terrified that somehow, something had irrevocably changed.
But then, she walked up to him, smoothed her thumb over the crease in his brow in the way he usually did to her and pressed a sloppy kiss to his jaw, and his whole body sang with his devotion to her. Then he knew again, with unshakeable certainty, that what he felt for her was untouchable – and somehow entirely intertwined, but also entirely separate from what he felt for Jisung.
But he didn’t know what that meant for them. For him. For Jisung. He could accommodate the fact of how he felt for both of them, just barely, the pressure of the crew’s eyes on him and his heart already stretched so thin with so many unspoken words that at times he had to force himself to look away. And he knew that Jisung could, his heart on his sleeve, every single one of his actions evidence of just how much he wanted them both – but he didn’t know if she could. If she was willing to.
What if Jisung’s was the kind of love she truly wanted?
She opened up for Jisung in a way she had never done for him. Something in Jisung’s eyes made her soften, unravel, reciprocate Jisung’s affectionate words, shakily, but with determination. More affection than she had ever shown Minho. She had grown softer with him, too, yes, and Changbin had told him, back then, though indirectly, that everyone thought she loved him, but Minho couldn’t help but see everything he wasn’t to her. And he was scared.
But he couldn’t do anything. The trip from Nassau to San Salvador wasn’t a long one. Even in bad conditions, it was barely more than a few days of slow sailing around the numerous islands and sandbanks of the region that kept mostly Seungmin and whoever was manning the sails busy. And at the end of the trip loomed the first step in their plan to finally end their mission, secure their legacy. To take down Han Yujun.
Minho couldn’t get distracted now. At least not more than he already was by the sheer perfection of the two beings that would find him, between hastily closed doors and around the bend of hallways, soft, slick lips and wandering hands and so greedy for Minho and his pleasure. So he holds on. Lets himself feel it all, the fear, the devotion, the unimaginable pleasure they caress out of his body; buries his worries between his captain’s legs, deep inside of Han Jisung’s soft hot mouth.
He will deal with this when Han Yujun hangs. He can’t wait for Han Yujun to hang.
When you dock in San Salvador, nobody stops you. That should have been your first warning.
There is no local police, no coast guard waiting. They let you dock, even though it’s clear that you’re not a registered ship, but privateers, and when you request for you, Minho, and Jisung to come ashore, they just … agree. That should’ve been your second warning.
But as it is, the three of you step onto land, allow Jisung, now dressed in his green silk jacket, the one he wore when he arrived on the ship, to lead you through the small, sleepy coastal town. Jisung’s hair is slightly longer now, his face a healthier colour. But most notably is how he carries himself – calm, confident, his shoulders squared, eyebrows set in a determined scowl. He’s different from the insecure, scared young man that Chan and Changbin dragged into your cabin a few months ago. This life seems to suit him almost naturally – an odd thought, when the rest of you had been thrown into it by circumstance, by necessity, whether you wanted it or not. But Han Jisung seemed to be born for it.
Jisung leads you through the centre of town, past fancy shops boasting luxurious fabrics that you know Hyunjin would love to have taken a look at, past taverns and butcher’s and cheesemongers and flower shops. Past many elegantly dressed townspeople, men in top hats and women in big, expensive dresses, who stare at you unabashedly, a hint of distaste and fear in their powdered faces. But you don’t mind them.
Jisung stops in front of a big, metal-wrought gate, leading into a lushly planted but meticulously landscaped garden. There are palm trees and succulents, but also all shades of expensive English roses, meticulously cut into abundant bushes. A perfectly raked path of pebbles leads up to what you can only describe as a mansion. It’s painted a pale yellow, dark green shutters framing the many, big windows. All around the house, there are tall, white pillars with ornate designs carved into the top and the bottom of them. Two of them hold up the portico that hovers majestically over the gigantic front door, making it look like the entrance to a castle.
The well-oiled gate opens with only the barest hint of a creak when Jisung pushes it open and motions for you to follow him. You can see the uneasiness in Minho’s set jaw, the hesitation in his steps when he follows Jisung in. You trail after them, taking in the garden, still. The feeling that something is off comes back with full force, and you stare at the roses as if they have the answer that eludes you. They only sway in the breeze, wordlessly.
When you reach the door, Jisung doesn’t hesitate. He lifts the heavy brass knocker and drops it against the wood once, twice, three times.
The sound echoes through the house, then it’s quiet. Not even footsteps. Then, there’s a lock being turned, and a surly older British man stares back at them.
“Oh,” he breathes, momentarily forgetting his training, evidence of his surprise written all over his wrinkled, English face, before he catches himself, schools it into a snobbish, condescending half-smile.
“Mr Han! What a surprise to see you here. Do come in.”
He takes a step back and holds the doors open for you, allowing you to enter into a high entryway tiled in light stone, before carefully shutting the door, and asking you to follow him.
The room he leads you to is on the other side of the house, through two stately, Victorian sitting rooms with fake stucco and dark wood and fireplaces that you doubt would have much use in the humid island weather. It’s a smaller room, with only four chairs and two tall windows looking out towards the ocean on one side, a set of heavy oak doors on the other.
“I will let Mr Trott know that you’re here. Please be so kind as to wait here for a moment.”
With that, he disappears through the two wooden doors.
You look at Minho and Minho looks at you.
“I don’t like this,” you say, and Minho shakes his head. The apprehension in his eyes mirrors yours. Something feels off.
Jisung fidgets, visibly nervous where he’s perched on the arm of one of the armchairs.
“I’m sure it’s fine, these places are always uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s not that it’s …”
You’re interrupted by something light blue fluttering in the corner of your vision. When you whirl around, you’re faced with a pretty, petite doll of a girl. She can’t be much older than 20, you think, her cheeks rosy and her eyes big and wide and glassy. She’s wearing a fluttery baby blue dress, her brown hair falling over her bare shoulders in perfect dark brown curls.
Jisung shoots to his feet, nearly topples over with the speed of it. Something ugly buzzes in your fingertips.
“Miss Trott,” Jisung mumbles and bows absentmindedly, seemingly automatically, before he catches himself. He throws you and Minho an embarrassed look. You don’t let your face give anything away.
“Jisung …” she returns, deliberately forgoing his attempt at politeness, “what are you doing here?”
Jisung’s eyes widen, and he chuckles nervously, his gaze ping ponging around the room restlessly.
“I came to talk to your father,” he says, before belatedly adding, “… about business.”
The girl nods, her eyes leisurely sweeping first over Minho, then you, giving you a cold once over, before looking back at Jisung. She tosses her head, the delicate gold necklace on her perfectly smooth, white neck glimmering in the sun, and gives him a honeyed smile. You suddenly feel violently out of place in this room, this house. Big and clumsy and dirty in a world where girls are sweet and petite and pale like fairies. The insecurity makes you reel for a moment.
“Will you be coming more often again? Like the old times?” the girl asks Jisung, coquettishly, blinking her big, pretty eyes at him. Her voice drops a register. “We had so much fun, didn’t we?”
Oh. You understand now. Was he meant to marry her? Did they … sleep with each other? The thought of his lips on her neck, his golden skin in contrast with her untouched ivory, sends a violent wave of ugly, petty jealousy through your veins. Your eyes turn venomous, but the girl doesn’t condescend to spare you another glance. Your fist balls where it’s hanging next to you.
Jisung laughs nervously again, ducks his head. The discomfort is radiating off him in waves.
“Hah, no, I will not be coming more often,” he tells her, the polite grimace on his face slipping slowly, like it’s getting too hard to uphold. His eyes dart to you, and you tear your eyes away from hers. Jisung’s eyes linger on you, searching, puzzled. Minho, behind you, steps closer to him, crosses his arms over his chest as he looks down at Jisung.
Suddenly, Jisung laughs, a real laugh this time. His cheeks flush, his shoulders relax slowly.
“As a matter of fact, I hope this will be the last time I ever have to come to this godawful place.”
The girl’s mask slips and there’s shock, then anger, pulling her angelic features into an ugly scowl. She opens her mouth, but turns and disappears without another word when the heavy wood doors open and the servant appears again.
“Mr Trott will see you now,” he mumbles, haughtily, and gestures for them to come in.
Minho’s hand smoothes over Jisung’s lower back as he guides him inside.
Nicholas Trott’s office is darker than the rest of the house. Almost entirely panelled in dark oak, you think this is what an English study would look like. There’s another fireplace, crowded bookcases lining the walls, in front of one of which sits a big heavy desk. Behind it, is a tall, skinny man of around 50. His hair is unfashionably long, and he doesn’t wear a moustache, like so many others. His eyes have a dangerous glint to them that you immediately distrust.
Trott doesn’t spare you and Minho more than a glance, allowing you to look around the room. One window, but it’s latched tightly shut. Behind Trott at his desk stands an armed guard, pistol and a glimmering cutlass sheathed at his belt. When you turn, you realise the door is shut and there are two more guards behind you, flanking you and Minho perfectly. You’re outnumbered. Alarm shivers through you, but you calm it. You need to keep a clear head. All of your lives depend on it. Han Yujun’s demise depends on it.
Trott gives Jisung a fake smile that doesn’t even pretend to be real. His teeth are bad.
“Han Jisung,” he drawls, “what a surprise to see you here … and alive. Your uncle told us your ship went missing. You were presumed dead.”
Jisung smiles coldly, the muscles in his shoulders jump when he crosses his arms over his chest. Minho next to you shifts his weight from one foot to the other. You can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
“Well, I’m not,” Jisung quips, juts out his chin. There’s the defensive arrogance again. But Trott’s smile doesn’t waver.
“I’m sure your uncle will be overjoyed to hear it.”
Something cold shivers down your spine at his tone, alarm bells going off in your head.
Trott’s eyes catch on yours. His eyebrows fly up, and an ugly little grin spreads over his face.
“And you’ve brought the famous captain Y/N,” he snarls. Minho takes a step closer to you on instinct. Trott notes it with a little chuckle. “What an honor to have you in my house.”
You don’t give him the satisfaction, just return his gaze steadily.
Jisung breaks the silence. His voice is cold and hard.
“Enough with the chitchat,” he says, and the man visibly bristles at his tone. “We have something to speak to you about.”
You take this as your cue. You step forward, fix Trott with the most neutral gaze you can muster, with the unexplained dread still prickling on your neck.
“Mr Trott,” you pronounce slowly. Your voice doesn’t conceal what you think of the title, “you may not think this now, but I think we have a common enemy. Maybe we can be of use to one another.”
Trott motions for you to go on. He looks slightly on edge, like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Good.
“But first, to sweeten the deal, so to speak,” you say sweetly, a dangerous smile on your lips, “I think it’s important that you know that we have proof of your and Han Yujun’s plans to sell your territories to the Spanish for a premium, before staging a coup and claiming independence. And we both know, that should this evidence reach the crown …”
You watch closely and see Trott’s pupils shake. You got the jump on him. It improves your odds. Before he can ask a question, you continue. You need to get out of here.
“But we also intercepted another message. This one was for Lord Dunmore. Han Yujun is playing with you, Mr Trott, promising Lord Dunmore a lot of money and his protection – for your head.”
Trott’s face shutters, his eyes boring into yours.
“So, you see how we might come to an agreement here,” you finish, a lazy smile on your lips. You tap the tip of your boot against the floor. Suddenly, Trott laughs. It takes you by surprise.
“What kind of proof could you possibly have?” he scoffs, leans back in his chair nonchalantly. “How would you have come across it.”
Jisung speaks before you can stop him.
“We found them on two of my uncle’s ships we intercepted. The coded maps, one for you, one for Lord Dunmore.”
Trott laughs again.
A nameless panic drips down your spine. This is wrong. All wrong.
“Mr Han, I get told many crazy stories every day, this one really takes it. Coded maps, you say?”
You notice what he’s doing just a beat too late to stop Jisung, who is already in motion. Jisung’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth and blurts it right out.
“We can show them to you, we have them right here.”
Nicholas Trott looks at him then, his smile no longer playful, but almost eery.
He raises a singular hand, and before you can react, a blade is pressed to your neck. You suck in a breath, your eyes twitching to Minho, but he’s in the same position, the guard on his side holding him in an iron grasp, his cutlass pressed against Minho’s Adam’s apple.
The man behind Trott’s desk has managed to capture Jisung in the same type of hold, guiding him slowly but surely until he’s standing behind Trott’s desk, facing you and Minho. He looks petrified, his eyes huge and panicked as he looks from you to Minho. He starts squirming so violently you’re scared he will hurt himself, so you lift a hand, motioning for him to calm down. He does, instantly.
Trott fixes you with his horribly triumphant smile before he gets up, slowly rounds the table. He saunters over, comes to stand so close to you that you can smell the stale cigar on his breath. He smiles down at you, lets his filthy gaze drag shamelessly over your face, down your body. Minho next to you, trashes in the guard’s hold and lets out something akin to a growl.
“I assume they’re in here?” he asks, playfully nonchalantly, as he pops open the button of your satchel without giving you the reprieve of moving away. If your odds weren’t so bad, you would’ve tried, and probably managed to, get out of the grasp of the man behind you already. But with Minho and Jisung with blades to their throat? You can’t risk it.
You watch helplessly as he pulls the two maps and Yeji’s note, your final, big chance to finally take down Han Yujun, out of your satchel like it’s nothing. The satisfaction on his face is sickening. He pats your cheek patronisingly, and you bite down the urge to spit in his face.
“Such a pretty face, such a shame that you’re such a dirty little pirate whore,” he hums, lets his fingers drag down your face. They feel like they’re leaving dirty streaks in their wake.
Minho next to you jerks violently in his captor’s hands.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” he growls, and Trott looks over at him with wide eyes – and laughs. You hear Minho curse, and struggle more.
Your hand shoots out in his direction, a gesture of calm, of ‘I’m okay’.
“Ah, she knows what’s good for her, too,” Trott coos, and this time you don’t hold back. You stare right at Trott, collect a big glob of spit in your mouth, and launch it onto the floor somewhere to your left.
The guard’s grip on you tightens, and you can feel a stinging pain on your neck, before warmth trickles down your skin. The blade nicked your skin. Jisung makes a strangled noise from where he’s watching you.
Trott just shakes his head, almost pityingly, and smiles again, before he turns around and places his newfound evidence on his desk.
“Now, …” he muses, letting his gaze wander over the three of you, “I could let you all go, but that would be stupid. But it would be really convenient if your dirty little gang of misfits could get to Han Yujun first. Soften him up a bit, maybe even do the dirty work for me.”
Then he turns to Jisung.
“But I’m going to keep this one. Who knows, maybe you’ll buy me something yet. And I think your uncle would be very upset with me if I let his supposedly dead nephew get away from me … alive.”
Your stomach drops. Jisung stares at Trott, his eyebrows furrowed. He looks angry, petulant, determined, but somewhere beneath it all you can see his fear, the one he tries so hard to hide. The need to protect him flares in your gut, makes you strain against the knife until more blood trickles down your neck. Minho next to you hisses out your name in warning.
“We’re not leaving without him,” you snarl.
Jisung’s head whips over to you. There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes.
But Trott laughs.
“How sweet. But you are, actually. I’ll make sure of that,” he purrs, and turns to his guards, “escort them back onto their ship, make sure they get on it and sail away before you come back.”
No, no, no, no, no. This is all wrong. The man jostles you, and you try to resist, desperately fighting against the way the blade digs into your skin.
“Jisung …” you breathe out, and God, Jisung looks so sad. You can’t bear it. And yet, he forces a brave smile. It’s almost worse.
“Go,” he tells you, “I’ll find you again.”
The man pulls at you, and you huff in despair.
“Jisung,” you say again, but he just keeps looking at you. “Be careful, okay? Don’t be stupid.”
He tries to nod, but that’s all you see before you’re harshly tugged backwards and out of the room. You feel like a part of you is left behind.
Minho doesn’t speak until you’re being shoved down the garden path, now with the barrel of a gun digging into your back instead of knives against your throat.
“He’ll be alright,” Minho says, quietly.
You look over at him, your brows furrowing in irritation.
“What do you mean ‘he’ll be alright’?”
Minho grimaces, avoids your eyes.
“He can defend himself. We’ll find him again. What’s important is that we get you and the crew out of here alive.”
You blink at him, almost stop dead in the middle of the English roses, but the barrel pressed to your back keeps you moving.
“We don’t trade lives like that, Minho,” you hiss, “I’ve never left anyone behind. Ever. And now … him …”
You don’t know what else to say, not within earshot of the guards.
“He’ll be alright,” Minho just says again, and it makes anger bubble in your gut. But you swallow it down, ignore the loaded silence between you until you hit the quays, half your crew watching from the ship as you and Minho are shoved in front of the two guards, the cold metal still pressing into your back bruisingly.
They’re true to their master’s word. They stay, watch grimly as you board your ship and still make no move to leave.
Hyunjin is the first to help you over the railing, and he stares at you, his eyes pleading.
“Captain, where’s Jisung?”
Your heart threatens to break.
“They took him,” is the only thing you can manage to say before you have to shove past him.
“Seungmin,” you order, “get us out of here. Straight to Andros Island.”
“But Jisung …” Hyunjin says, but Minho interrupts him.
“He’ll be fine.”
“What the fuck do you mean ‘he’ll be fine’?” Felix pipes up, “what are they going to do with him?”
“Ship him back to his uncle, probably,” Minho mumbles. The knowledge that you have no idea what they’ll do to him makes the kraken wake up. It roils and undulates and reaches into every crevice of your ribcage it can reach.
“That is not fine!” Felix yells. He's panicking. You can hear it in his voice. You flinch, your throat threatening to close up.
“He can defend himself! He will have to,” Minho barks back. You see red, whirl around.
“Shut the fuck up,” you scream at him, and the blank violence of it makes Minho recoil. “You don’t get to talk like that. Not when I’ve never … we’ve never left anyone … when … Jisung …”
The kraken roars, winds its tentacles around your ribs, crushes bone, tissue, grips your lungs and squeezes and pulls like it’s trying to tear you apart from the inside.
“Seungmin, away from here. Andros Island,” you order, before you turn to Felix. Your throat is closing in around itself. You have to force your next words out through shaky gasps. “Felix? I promise, we’ll find him again. We will not abandon … him. I swear, I’ll make … this right.”
You push past them, and into the hallway, manage to make it into your quarters and lock the door behind you before you fall to your knees. Your vision dots with black as the kraken roars and screams and wreaks havoc inside of you. Aborted breaths and sobs tear their thorny way out of your throat, your whole body shaking, the thought of Jisung, back with his tormentors, not safe and here and wrapped around you, unbearable. You failed, you failed, you failed …
Distantly you hear pounding on your door, Minho’s panicked yells of your name, the rattle of the doorknob.
But you ignore him as your body starts shaking more and more.
Somehow, you manage to drag yourself across the floor, your knees scraping across the wood, and you barely make it onto your bed, drag a pillow close enough so you can stifle your gasps and sobs, before your vision blacks out.
You can still smell Jisung on the sheets
They come later that night, sometime just before the sky starts brightening with the coming sunrise, when even Jeongin has fallen asleep in his lookout. Perfectly planned. Perfectly executed.
You’re jostled awake by the sound of wood splintering when the first cannonball hits the side of your ship.
But despite, that reality only comes into focus sluggishly. You’re still fully clothed, collapsed at the foot of the bed, clutching your pillow so hard your fingers ache.
Then there’s another hit, this one even louder. Cold, unadulterated panic zips through your body.
You stumble to your feet, have to catch yourself on the bedpost when the world around you spins. Your head hurts, and you’re shaking; not trembling but shaking, fully body tremors wracking through you and your stomach aches with hunger, your throat raw and painful from the sobs, and you’re so unbelievably cold.
You stand there only for a few seconds, but it feels like a millennium, trying to catch your breath, trying to will your body back under your control so you can go and do what needs to be done.
It’s the thought of your crew that gets you there. It centres you, clears the haze, makes you take the first step, then the second. By the time you reach the door to your cabin, your legs no longer wobble.
It’s only a few minutes after that first hit when you stumble onto the deck, but the fastest of your men are already loading the cannons, and getting themselves armed.
Minho’s there, catching your eye across the ship, softness, regret, then a deep worry in his eyes when his eyes take you in. You can only imagine the state you’re in. He doesn’t even hesitate, waves whoever is talking to him off and approaches you. You want to tear your eyes away from him, but you can’t. But the closer he gets, the clearer the concern swimming in his eyes becomes. You feel bile rise to your throat. He looks tired, too. Unfocused, upset. You want to cry. Scream. Something. But there are more important things to deal with. You swallow it all, ignore the pain and the anger, as he debriefs you.
“It’s an ambush. Han Yujun’s men. They shot straight through our storage area. Not low enough for water to get in, thank God. San and Hwa are already patching it. It seems like it was a warning because they’ve stopped now. But they’re close already, they’ll be ready to board in a few minutes, and we’re barely armed.”
You look at the ship approaching in the dusk, an ominous feeling in your gut that makes dread creep up your spine. You’re not in any condition for this fight.
“How could this happen …” you whisper.
Minho looks at you. He reaches out, but his fingertips only graze the back of your hand before he pulls it back. Like he just remembered you’re mad at him. Your head swims and you have to blink the haze from your eyes again.“They probably were in San Salvador while we
were, we just didn’t see them. And then they followed us. Trott must have been another step ahead of us.”
You curse, try to control the senseless panic in your guts. You’re so fucking angry. At everyone, at no one. At Jisung for falling for Trott’s trap and getting taken from you, at Minho for just letting it happen and treating it so casually, but mostly, and this you know, at yourself for failing to protect them and to win this goddamn fight that should’ve been, was supposed to be easy. You had it all right in front you!
“Get everyone ready as fast as possible,” you order, “and be careful, I have a bad feeling about this.”
And with that, you turn around, try to quell the nausea of dread in your stomach by helping your men lug up weapons, before you come to stand on the bow of the ship, facing Han Yujun’s ship as it inevitably comes closer.
“Captain Y/N,” someone, undoubtedly their captain, yells once the ships are only about 20 yards away from each other. “I’m giving you a chance to give up now. You’re not winning this one.”
You scoff. Their captain sends you an ugly grin that makes shivers run down your spine. You don’t let it show. Your body settles. The pain fades. You know how to do this part.
“We already have one of yours, one that Mr Han will be more than happy to be able to dispose of himself. Do you really want to lose more?”
You raise an eyebrow, and raise your middle finger into their direction, the man cackles out a cocky “suit yourself.”
And then they’re close enough to throw their gang plank, and they’re coming.
It’s chaos, your men as good at fighting as always, but still rumpled from sleep, destabilised by the loss of Jisung, by your almost public breakdown. You watch Minho sink his knife into a pirate’s neck, and you realise you haven’t slept alone in a week. Since Nassau.
Two, big, burly cronies approach you at once. A dirty move. You spring into action. But they put up too much of a fight. You manage to disarm one of them, dodge the other’s knife and then another fist, but it’s taking too long. Your muscles already start to ache, your lungs burn, your eyes have trouble focusing. You land a well-placed punch in the face of the one you managed to disarm, but it takes you just a second too long to turn around, and all of a sudden, you feel the searing pain of a knife slicing the skin of your leg. You yelp before you can stop yourself. Minho’s head shoots up towards you, and the man he’s fighting with takes the opportunity to sink his fist into Minho’s face, hitting him straight in the eye. It makes a sickening sound and there’s so much blood that your mind blanks in panic.
And then the whole scene freezes – because the ugly, smug captain of their ship stands in the middle of yours, in the middle of your men, holding a bomb in one hand and a torch in the other.
You’re frozen, your mind going a million miles a minute, running through one scenario after another, trying to figure out what to do, how to save this, to save your men, to save Minho, who’s bleeding so much, so so much, oh God. But there’s nothing you can do except … watch.
“Anybody moves, and I’m lighting this thing,” the man with the bomb yells, and your breath hitches.
You know your men won’t move if you don’t. They’re your men. But you hold up a calming hand anyway, without taking your eyes off the stranger. He looks so smug when he realises he has the upper hand. You want his head.
“Men, fall back,” he orders before he motions towards Minho and grins at you again. “But we’re taking this one with us. He has killed a few too many of our men over the years.”
You step forward before you can even think.
“Why not take me, then?” you ask, your voice shaky. “I think I’ve killed more. And loved every second of it.”
The man laughs. It’s raspy and wet and disgusting.
“Boss’ orders,” he snarls, and you nearly growl.
“Bullshit,” you hiss, “come on, coward, take me. Fucking try me.”
“Y/N."
Your name. Not your title. Minho’s voice is calm, insistent, and when you meet his eyes you know why. He’s made up his mind. “Let me go, they need you.”
You shake your head at him, the dread filling your body with a dull pain. The kraken seems to grow and grow and grow.
Their captain laughs, motions for his men to go, and they do. File over the plank one by one, laughing and cheering and making obscene gestures at your men. Chan looks like he is one second away from shooting one of them right between the eyes. When you catch his eyes and shake your head, he takes a deep breath. You catch Hyunjin’s eyes next to him, see the question in his eyes as his hand hovers over his revolver. But there’s no guarantee, even if he shoots at their captain and doesn’t miss, that the bomb and the torch falling won’t light the fuse. Or that your ship won’t catch fire. Or that one of their men will not pick them up and do it themselves. They’re too many.
So you shake your head at him, too. His eyebrows furrow, his lips curl into a scowl. It’s desperate, pleading, grows increasingly more so when two of their men drag Minho towards and over the plank. You just shake your head again, screw your lips shut. You can’t. There are too many of their lives at stake. And you know Minho knows that, too.
He goes without resistance, his head held high, still bleeding from his eye, and you hope to God they will at least patch him up.
Minho turns, resists, looks at you before he’s pushed below deck, and it’s like time slows down for a second. He stares, blinks, something in his eyes like he’s trying to tell you something, or like he’s trying to commit your face to memory. The light of the rising sun shimmers over his skin, he blinks, and then he’s out of your sight. Your whole body is trembling. You can’t even hide it. You know your whole crew can see it. So can their captain.
He grins at you. As soon as the last of his crew is off the ship, their navigator at the helm, their sails unfurling and gathering wind, he bows without breaking eye contact. Then he grins.
“Boss is waiting for you,” he says and touches the torch to the bomb.
The fuse sizzles, he drops it, makes a run for a rope his crew have thrown him and leaps onto his own ship.
On your ship, several people leap for the bomb, but Chan gets to it first, picks it up without a second’s hesitation, though the fuse is shortening alarmingly fast.
He throws his arm back and hurls it, as hard as he possibly can, at the enemy ship. But their ship is smaller, just a Brigantine, so much faster than yours could ever be, even faster than Chan could be. It has already turned, managed to manoeuvre their exposed side away from you.
The bomb flies, but it falls short. It plops into the ocean. The fuse fizzles out, and the bomb sinks out of sight within mere seconds, as if it had never been there in the first place. As if it didn’t just threaten everything you had. As if it didn’t just make you lose Minho.
There’s a dead silence as you all watch them sail away. Nobody moves. There is no hope that you could catch them. Your whole body is shivering, and you feel someone’s hand on your shoulder.
Then it echoes across the water.
A single gunshot.
Your world goes up in flames.
You manage to stumble towards the edge of the ship before your stomach turns.
Someone screams, high and loud and mad. You realise after a second that it’s you.
Then everything goes dark.
< chapter VIII - interlude (and chapter X coming friday, may 10, 3pm CET) >
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🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter VIII
pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung
summary: jisung's intoxicated honesty pays off in that he finally gets what he's been craving so madly. but will it be so easy?
word count: 9.4k
warnings: unprotected sex; consensual sex under the influence; p in v; oral sex (m&f receiving); mxm anal sex; one tiny lil predator/prey moment but it's very hot; another fight bc these pirates thrive off drama
author's note: I'M SORRY FOR LAST WEEK'S CLIFFHANGER BUT THE CHAPTER WOULD'VE GOTTEN TOO LONG OKAY!! to make up for it, this is almost entirely smut lol (see why i couldn't add it?). mwah mwah I love you all who have been reading this and commenting religiously. you mean the world to me!
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
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< chapter VII - chapter IX (coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET) >
The breath Minho expels puffs against your neck, makes a shiver run down your spine. Jisung looks like a wet dream, a siren with sweet, kissable lips, soft brown hair, an impossibly tiny waist and soft, strong muscled shoulders.
You want him so bad you ache with it.
“Meet me back at the ship,” Minho growls out, want buried somewhere deep in his voice, and Jisung’s eyes widen, like he didn’t quite believe it would work. But he nods, and then Minho’s warmth leaves your back. You watch him walk out, Jisung’s hand still on your neck. Someone bumps into his back, and it jostles him out of his reverie, seems to remind him where you are. He drops his hand. The loss of both their touch makes you shiver with a desperate kind of loss.
Jisung’s achingly deep, lidded eyes slip down to your lips, and you watch his pink tongue dart out to wet his like it holds salvation.
“Not here,” you whisper. Your voice is high, desperate. You reach a hand out, drag your fingers over the back of his. He shivers. You see your want mirrored in him. He blinks erratically, like he’s coming out of a trance.
“Captain,” he mumbles, his voice thick and low and so, so sexy. You think the title may have never sounded better. Jisung’s eyebrows furrow, he pulls his hand out of your reach. Your heart drops.
“Captain, I kissed him,” he whispers, quietly, sorrowfully. Scared. “Minho. A couple weeks ago. We had a fight and emotions ran high, and I kissed him and I should’ve told you, and I’m so sorry.”
You’re frozen where you are, staring back at him, your face schooled into your usual impassivity, though there’s a dull pain in your chest. You hadn’t expected a confession like this. Not here, not now. Jisung takes your silence for disapproval.
“I’m sorry, captain, I understand if you no longer want this. You can just say the word. You can go back to the ship alone. But I needed you to know before we do this because …” he takes a deep breath, “because I’ve wanted this for too long to let something like this poison it.”
The kraken in your chest rankles, writhes. But it seems undecided, confused. You force yourself to ask the heavy question on the tip of your tongue.
“Do you just want to do this to get to him?”
Jisung actually reels back at that, his eyes wide in shock, body curled in on itself like the question physically hurt. He shakes his head vehemently, reaches a gentle hand closer, until it can wrap around your wrist.
“No! No, God, no, I … I’ve wanted you since I met you,” he mumbles, his eyes trained down, but flicking up, like he wants to look at you, but he doesn’t quite have the courage to. His hand slips from your wrist, down, until he can lace his fingers with yours so gently it takes your breath away. His breath hitches. “That’s the trouble – I can’t stop myself from being so greedy when it comes to you. Can’t stop myself from wanting you. Both of you.”
It’s insane, it’s mad, he’s so beautiful, his touch sets you on fire, it’s terrifying.
Abruptly, you get up and he stares up at you. You smile at him as best as you can, stretching out your hand to him.
“Let’s go then.”
He jumps up, laces his warm fingers with yours, lets you lead him through the tavern, past hazy faces, past two bodies intertwined against the wall leading to the toilets that look suspiciously like Hyunjin and Chan, though you can’t dwell on it now with Jisung between your fingertips.
When you stumble out the front door, the fragrant night air rushes into your lungs. It’s balmy, but the breeze is chilly. It clears your foggy head a little, but does nothing to quell the aching want in your belly.
You turn and meet Jisung’s eyes and something cracks, and before you can take another step to drag Jisung to the ship, he pulls you into the dark, shaded alley right next to the tavern. He’s strong, but his movements are gentle, dark eyes hazy as he pushes you against the wall, his hands skating up to cup your face.
“I can’t wait until we’re on the ship to do this,” he mumbles, hotly, sweetly, and leans in.
He kisses you, and it feels like all the blood in your body is replaced by honey, hot and sticky and sirupy-sweet. His lips are impossibly soft against yours, moving against yours with a barely contained hunger. There’s a tremble in his hand when he drags his thumb over your cheek. He drowns the last dregs of your self-control in his sticky sweetness.
Your lips part and your tongue searches for his, a broken moan shivering out of his throat when they touch, silky and hot, licking against yours like he wants to devour you. He wraps his arms around you, pulls you closer, unashamedly presses you against where he’s hard and straining with desire in his pants, like he wants you to know what you do to him. It makes a shiver of arousal rack through you, and you can no longer resist, allow your hand to slither under his shirt, over the soft, hot skin of his waist. You rake your nails down the soft swell of his abs, and he moans into your tongue. You want to eat up every single sound he makes.
He pulls back when he needs air, his nose still resting against yours, hot breath fanning over your lips.
“I need you,” you whisper and Jisung sighs brokenly, “back to the ship. Now.”
And he complies, grabs your hand, and you run, hand in hand, giggling, through the balmy night, down the dusty streets that are almost empty at this time of night, until your boots slither over the wet wood the quay and you have to slow down. He kisses you again once you’re in the safety of the ship, kisses you, smilingly as he clumsily walks you backwards down the hallway to your quarters.
He’s still kissing you, eagerly licking into your mouth, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist when he pushes open the door. You hear Minho suck in a breath. You turn your head. He’s standing in the middle of the room, the candlelight playing off his sharp cheekbones, painting his dangerous, feline eyes an even darker shade of brown until you think he’s staring into your soul. Jisung is still pressed up against you, presses a wet kiss against your jaw as he watches Minho, too.
His name falls from your lips like a wrecked plea just as Jisung reaches out a hand and there’s no hesitation in the way he takes the few steps it takes for him to get to you. His hands shake when he reaches for you, cradles your face in his trembling hands, fear and tension lingering underneath so much raw, aching desire it makes you dizzy. You breathe out, blink at him, try to tell him wordlessly what you can’t put into words, and he seems to understand. He sighs, lets his forehead fall against yours for just a second before he tips his face forward and kisses you while Jisung watches.
Jisung’s arm around you tightens when Minho shivers out a moan, pries your jaw open with his thumb, slips his tongue into your mouth in the way he knows makes you putty in his hands. When you arch your back into Minho’s touch and brush against Jisung’s hard cock that is still straining against your leg, his breathing goes heavy, his desire like a living thing between you.
Minho’s pupils are blown, when he pulls back, his eyebrows drawn together in a dark determination that you know is him keeping his lust in check, but when he fixes Jisung with these eyes, Jisung gulps.
Minho stares at him, eyes flitting over Jisung’s flushed face, his chest that’s rising and falling sharply, and then, in the blink of an eye, Minho takes a step back, bends down, grabs Jisung’s waist and throws him over his shoulder. Jisung yelps, his hands shooting out, trying to stabilise himself on Minho’s back, and the surprise makes him look so adorable you can’t help but chuckle, letting Minho grab your hand and drag you along into your bedroom. He throws Jisung onto the mattress unceremoniously, Jisung’s body bouncing on the mattress as he struggles to keep up, eyes wide and glued to Minho, who bends down and pulls Jisung’s boots down. The tent in Jisung’s pants is painfully obvious with every shift of his body. Minho looks like he wants to devour him.
Minho gets on the bed, crawls up to Jisung with a predatory look in his eyes and Jisung, half-heartedly, distractedly, scoots back, like he’s trying to escape, but his eyes are glued to Minho, a little moan falling from his lips when Minho wraps his hand around his ankle and drags him back down, pulls him right underneath his body.
“I told you to stop running from me,” Minho growls, and then he swoops down, kisses Jisung so hard the latter’s hips jump off the bed with a debauched moan. Jisung’s hands helplessly hover in the air between them, unsure of where he’s allowed to touch, until Minho grabs one of them and brings it to his waist. Jisung’s fingers dig into the fabric readily, tugging at it desperately as Minho all but devours him.
It sends an odd thrill through you, the image of Jisung underneath Minho. It’s like a maddeningly hot out-of-body experience to see Minho like this, but it’s also impossible to rip your eyes away from Jisung; overwhelmed and turned on and uncertain, pretty and desperate under Minho’s control.
You don’t know if it’s the absinthe, but there’s no shame about it when you crawl onto the bed, get close enough until you can hear the wet slide of their tongues, can see the twitch of Jisung’s fingers, hear Minho suck in a breath when Jisung tugs at his shirt harder. You’re so turned on it’s making you feel dizzy, an aching heat, an embarrassing wetness pooling between your legs. Like you’re bewitched, you lift your hand, trail it up Jisung’s strong arms, over his shoulder, until it’s ghosting over his clothed chest.
Jisung gasps into Minho’s mouth and Minho pulls back, grips his chin between his fingers, fixes him with a look that Jisung is barely able to reciprocate. He’s beautiful when he’s so far gone.
“What do you want, hm?” Minho murmurs, and Jisung keens, his fingers digging into the material of Minho’s shirt and tugging at it.
“Anything,” Jisung mumbles, “everything … you …”
He tries to surge back up to kiss Minho again, but Minho pushes him down, sends you a heated look, before he turns Jisung’s head to you, lets you mould your hand around the sharp line of Jisung’s jaw and drag him into another filthy kiss, one he moans into immediately, his own hand surging up to bury itself into your hair, pulling you closer to lick deeper and deeper. You think you could kiss him like this forever.
His nails rake over your scalp when Minho’s hands slide down his body, under Jisung’s shirt, raking up his abs, find his nipples. He chokes out a moan, spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, and Minho chuckles darkly, pulls Jisung’s mouth from yours by the back of his hair and pulls his shirt over his head.
And despite how gone Jisung already seems, his eyes find yours immediately, gaze dipping down to your lips before he kisses you again, uses his newfound freedom to turn to you better, hands greedily sliding under your shirt, smoothing over the plush of your waist, kneading and dragging his blunt nails over every inch of skin, until his hand finds your tits, and he squeezes, his mouth opening in tandem, his kiss turning filthier and filthier as he rucks your shirt up. Spit is smeared all over your and his pretty peach lips when he pulls the fabric over your head, leaving you bare for his hands to explore.
When he kisses down your jaw, your eyes fall on Minho, towering over the two of you. His hungry eyes are trained on you, glued to your lips, raking down your naked bodies, following Jisung’s hand as he touches you, his own hand palming himself over his pants before he squeezes himself and instead busies himself with untying Jisung’s pants. He groans when Jisung’s cock springs free and smacks against his abdomen, red and hard and leaking from the tip. You can’t tear your eyes from it. It’s perfect.
“No underwear, filthy boy,” Minho growls lowly, and Jisung chuckles cheekily into the skin of your neck before he lets his head loll against the sheets.
“I like how it fee–“
He cuts himself off with a lewd moan when Minho scrapes his nails up the inside of his thighs and wraps his hand around his cock, pumps him a few times, squeezing another few drops of precum from Jisung’s cock. Your mouth damn near waters.
Minho must notice because before you know it, he has shifted his attention to you, leaning up and over you to press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips before peppering more down the column of your throat. He hums appreciatively, taking his time running his tongue over every inch of your skin until he reaches your breasts, sucking a deep red mark in the valley between them before latching his mouth onto your nipple and sucking so hard your back arches off the bed. Jisung next to you moans softly, one hand loosely wrapped around himself as he watches with hungry eyes.
“Always so fucking perfect,” Minho whispers, his tongue laving over your sensitive bud while his fingers are untying the strings on your pants with care, “so fucking perfect for me.”
He looks up at you through hooded eyes, and something in his eyes makes you ache. Your hand finds his hair, scraping your nails over his sensitive scalp in the way you know drives him mad, and his eyelids flutter beautifully. His eyes dart over to Jisung, and he smirks around you, rucks your pants down enough so he can bury his fingertips in your soaked folds, spreading the wetness around just shy of where you need him the most.
“So perfect for us, hm, Jisung?”
Jisung tightens his fist on his cock with a mewl and nods. He looks at you. A strand of his wavy brown hair is plastered to his forehead. You reach up to brush it away. He follows the action like he’s mesmerised.
“Our captain,” he mumbles, and Minho’s finger finally presses down on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Jisung watches with rapt attention as you whimper, brows furrowing, eyes struggling to stay open, stay staring into Jisung’s own.
“Fuck,” Jisung whispers, and you smile. Jisung blinks.
“I need to feel you, Jisung, Jisungie,” you mumble, another moan clawing its way out of your throat when Minho rubs you just so, “I want you to fuck me. Please.”
Jisung’s jaw falls open needily, his hand tightening on himself. More precum pearls out of his pretty cock, drips down his shaft.
“Please, let me,” he whimpers, “God, I want it so bad– fuck, my captain … you sound so wet …”
And you do, Minho’s fingers having done a thorough job of spreading your slick all over your folds, but so does Jisung, the wet sound of his hand working over his cock mixing with the way your cunt squelches when Minho slides his fingers into you so lewd it makes your head spin. When Minho leans in and attaches his lips to your clit, you moan out pathetically loudly.
“Is that what you want, Jisung?” Minho mumbles, the vibrations of his lips against your clit making you mewl. “You want to fuck your captain?” You bury your fingers in his hair, tug so hard you know it must hurt. But you also know he loves it. He groans prettily, his breath coming out in short bursts, as he carefully, maddeningly slowly fucks one finger into you, then two, seemingly more to keep busy than to get either of you any closer to anything. It drives you crazy.
Jisung blushes a deep pink, the colour spreading down the sculpted swell of his chest.
“Want you to fuck me, too, Minho,” he mumbles, “couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Minho chuckles darkly. Jisung bats his eyelashes, twists his hand meanly on his cock and moans.
“You’re so fucking big, want to feel you inside of me so badly,” he slurs.
Minho reaches out, wraps his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and tugs his hand away from his cock, making Jisung mewl out at the loss, pouting at Minho. But the pout melts from his lips, dissolves into a hiccup and a moan, when Minho pulls his mouth away from you, wraps his hand around Jisung’s cock and suckles the head between his lips.
Minho’s hand is still between your legs, his fingers working you open as if his mouth isn’t busy swallowing Jisung down so hard his eyes roll into the back of his head with a choked moan. You watch Minho, watch how his eyes glint with something that can only be described as greed, his eyes on Jisung when he swallows around him, on you when he crooks his fingers, hips barely perceptibly rutting into the bed beneath him. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s getting off on this.
You make up your mind then, giving Minho a smirk as you gently pull his fingers from you. He glares at you and puts up a fight, but he goes pliant under your hands, moans prettily as soon as you get up, kick your pants and shoes off your body and smooth your palms over Minho’s back.
You hum softly, in response, fingers dipping underneath the fabric to trail over the sensitive skin of his back, over to the front, the muscles in his stomach jumping with every shudder of his body. He sinks his head further down, and Jisung chokes out a groan.
“I won’t– I won’t last,” Jisung whines, fingers threading into Minho’s hair in a desperate effort to ground himself. “B-been so long since … hnnng anyone has touched me … like this.”
“How?” you ask breathlessly, gaze glued to his writhing body, his rippling stomach. He chokes out another moan, one that sounds almost like a sob.
“Don’t make me say it …”
He sounds so wrecked, it makes you dizzy with want. Your hungry hands slide down over Minho’s clothed cock where it’s hot and leaking and so fucking tempting. You waste no time, palming him gently, but hard enough that his hips buck into your hand wantonly, like he usually only does when he’s extra needy. You slip past his waistband and take him into your palm. The fact that having both of you underneath him, having Jisung’s cock in his mouth is getting him that riled up, makes you feel insane.
Jisung’s hips jump off the bed, and he hiccups out another moan.
“Fuck, fuck,” he breathes out before the confession tumbles out of his mouth helplessly. “Like you care how I feel, like you want to make me feel good, like you care about me, oh god, Minho, I’m .. I’m gonna … like you l-love me …”
The last words peter out into a desperate sob, and you don’t think he’s even aware he said them when his body locks up and his hips stutter up, and he releases into Minho’s hot, ready mouth. Minho’s cock pulses into your hands, and he fucks into the tight fist you’re offering for him erratically as he swallows Jisung’s orgasm, and then he halts, groans, low and deep in his chest, and cums, spilling ropes of hot and sticky all over your fist and into his pants.
Jisung’s words echo in your head while you stroke Minho through his orgasm, when you pull your hand from him, wipe it on his pants, your guts swirling with warmth and apprehension. It’s not a word you use. It’s not a word you’ve dared to speak since you said, “I love you, too, Dad” for the last time. Never even said it to your mother again. And you know she knew. Until you couldn't anymore. It’s not a word you let yourself use, not even in your head, not even when you think of Minho, though you know, deeply, irrevocably, despite everything, despite how hard you try, that what you feel for him goes so far beyond physical.
And despite everything that happened to him, despite everything the world has done to him, the word had just … tumbled out of Jisung’s mouth.
You wonder what Minho feels – if his own sudden release had something to do with that one little word. You wonder if Minho could ever love you. Or … if he could love Jisung. Find in him something that you couldn’t provide him. The kraken, so blissfully, remarkably quiet so far, stirs uncomfortably in your chest. Your vision is tightening, and you’re wondering how you can somehow escape the oppressing heat of the room when Minho gets up. He turns to you cups your face in his hands, his eyes hazy and soft, a devastatingly handsome smirk on his face, before he rubs his nose against yours and kisses you, softly, sweetly. It’s easy to get lost in, to let yourself get lost in the way his thumbs brush your cheekbones, his tongue maps out every inch of your mouth, the taste of Jisung still on his lips.
Gently, he licks into your mouth, turns you around, guides you onto the bed, parting from you only long enough to pull off his shirt, shove down his soiled pants, and you can barely get a glimpse of his body, his beautiful, strong, familiar body, before he kisses you again, his hands reverently sliding over your skin. And then there’s a second pair of hands joining him, smoothing up your thigh, and a second pair of lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder, and it’s hard to feel anything but warmth and heat and them.
“Let me taste you,” Jisung whispers into your skin, trailing his hot wet lips up your shoulder, up your neck and his breath is searingly hot on the shell of your ear. “You’re one orgasm down, we can’t have that. Let me taste you, please? I want it so bad.”
Minho hums in agreement.
“Let’s see how many times you can make her cum while I open you up.”
Twice, it turns out, is how often Jisung can make you cum with his tongue alone.
He’s a sinful sight, face flushed and messy with your slick, eyes half closed and glazed over as he rubs his tongue all over you with an enthusiasm you have never felt before. He’s messy, lapping up his own spit and your arousal from your pussy with fucked out little hums and moans, fucking his tongue inside of you so deeply, so deftly, you see stars. His technique is not so much technique as a desperation to make you feel good and to feel you everywhere, all at once, in turn, licking inside of you and massaging your clit and nipping at your inner thighs all at the same time, the vibrations of his moans from where Minho is steadily fucking his fingers into his hole driving you closer and closer to the edge.
He moans when you cum and grind against his face, mumbling expletives and fucked out pleas into you, dribbles precum into the sheets when you wrap your legs around his head and he can barely breathe as he steadily works you through your overstimulation and pulls the next one out of you with the help of his fingers buried deep inside you, rubbing the calloused pads of his fingers against your sweet spot. By the time you come down, you’re trembling, can barely think straight with pleasure and have to push him away before he goes for another.
Minho chuckles darkly, smoothes his palms over Jisung’s ass sweetly before giving it a spank. Jisung whimpers, keens into his touch. Minho’s eyes bore into yours.
“Good boy,” he praises Jisung as he stares at you and Jisung preens, smiles dazedly as ruts his ass back into Minho’s soft touches. “Are you ready to get your reward?”
Jisung moans, shakes his head.
“I … I wanna feel you … both,” he whines and Minho blinks twice, before he groans deeply, his hand shooting down to grab his own cock. Jisung, unaware of the effect he has, screws his eyes shut, blushes deeply. “’s so greedy, I know, but I’ve wanted you for so long, I need you both.”
His neediness, his openness, the way he stares at you with a deep blush and such big, needy, eyes when he finally blinks them open – it’s so new to you, so unlike the way you and Minho have been fucking, but it’s not bad. God, it’s not bad. It’s maddeningly, all-consumingly beautiful. Endearing. So hot it makes your stomach turn. Jisung, in all his naked, honeyed beauty, made you feel so warm, so trusted, so … entirely and unequivocally wanted.
You sit up, cup Jisung’s face, tuck a strand of errant hair behind his ear. You watch him blink at you with wide eyes, all innocence, and shock, before you pull him in for a kiss so tender it hurts you. He makes a high sound in the back of his throat, his lips going pliant against yours, letting you take what you need from him, as if you’re not trying to give him everything you could.
You can’t do it for long, the ache of your heart, the threat of the kraken too strong to withstand it when he kisses you back just as tenderly. A helpless little sigh, a press of his nose into your cheek, a soft hand on your thigh, and you pull back, peck his cheek sweetly. Minho is staring at you, his face utterly unreadable. You brush it off, turn around, get on all fours in front of Jisung.
Minho moans lowly, a noise so guttural you know he’s doing his best to try to keep it together, but he’s failing spectacularly.
Jisung scoots closer, breathes out a breathless string of praises as he places his hands on your waist, presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. Minho murmurs something you can barely make out, and then Jisung’s velvety, hard cock brushes against your thigh. Jisung’s arms come to cage you in, warm, soft chest folding over your back, his breath on your neck.
There’s no way for you to know what’s happening behind you, only Jisung’s breath and the small noises he makes to go by, and somehow that makes it all even hotter.
When Jisung tenses against your back, lets his head fall against your spine, all you can do is imagine what he must look like while Minho is sinking himself into him. His cock brushes against your skin again, and you’re dizzy with want.
“God, so fucking tight, Jisung,” Minho mumbles softly, brokenly, so familiarly, and Jisung whimpers. “So fucking good.”
An involuntary, frustrated whine fights its way out of your throat and Minho chuckles, but there’s barely any of his usual cockiness in it. He leans further into you, and it takes you a second to realise it’s his hand that guides Jisung’s cock until his head is pushing against your entrance, head almost breaching you, tantalisingly close to what you really want.
Jisung’s arms are shaking on either side of you, and he’s panting against your neck.
And then Minho slowly pushes all the way into Jisung and pushes him forwards, until Jisung’s cock finally slides into you, sinks into you inch by inch, and the noises it rips out of you and Jisung in tandem are filthy. Minho curses out weakly, digs his fingers into your skin where he’s holding onto you. You can feel his resolve crumbling with every second.
Jisung feels heavenly inside of you, filling you up perfectly, hot and thick to the brim, just a little bit of a stretch. But it’s nothing compared to when Minho starts fucking into him, rutting Jisung’s cock deep into you with every thrust. When Jisung bottoms out entirely, kisses your womb, your arms wobble, and you nearly fold into the sheets, but Jisung’s own shaky arm winds around your waist, holds you up and against him.
“Hm … don’t” he slurs, his breath punched out of him when Minho fucks into him hard, “wann’ feel you.”
So you try to stay upright, for him, but also for the slick, grounding slide of his chest against your back, the sweet noises he pants into your neck. His moans are melodic, divine, every hitch of his breath next to your ear makes you gush around him more.
Minho fucks Jisung harder, makes him mewl, his arm tightens around your waist, his fingers digging into your stomach, and it pulls you up enough for the head of Jisung’s cock to hit your womb over and over and over again, pleasure and pain mingling and shooting through your body until you can feel the tingling all the way in your toes.
Your body is so, so sensitive after your two previous orgasms, and it feels so, so good, and it’s all so much it makes your grip on reality slip, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You whimper out pathetically when the first tear falls, your cunt clenching around Jisung so hard he bucks into you with a hiccupped moan, cursing and moaning wildly. You hear Minho curse out behind you, and then his hands find your waist, holding you steady, holding you in place, and it only drives Jisung deeper and that’s it.
Your back arches, your head falls backwards onto Jisung’s shoulder, you sob, and you fall over the edge, gushing wetness around Jisung’s cock that’s still steadily being driven so deeply into you, you have trouble breathing. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and Jisung whimpers, moans, kisses your shoulders, does his best to hold on, to hold you, to fuck you through it.
As soon as he feels you go slack, he gently lets down so you can collapse onto the bed, pulls himself from your cunt and lets Minho pull him up against his chest. Jisung wraps his free hand around his own cock, and he only pumps twice before he cums with wail, ropes of his spend shooting over your ass and back, clenching around Minho so hard that he follows only a second later, grinding himself in deep with a string of curses and praises as he unloads into Jisung.
You’re boneless, barely aware of the sounds around you, the sticky mess on your back. Jisung collapses next to you with a huff, his hand reaching for yours as he catches his breath, fingers lacing into yours again, just like they did in the tavern, one of his rings cold against your overheating skin. You shiver. You distantly feel Minho wipe at your back, hear him say your name, before you’re tucked into the sheets, pulled into Jisung’s chest, before Minho’s warm, familiar, naked body slides under the sheets, wraps around your back. You fall asleep as soon as he does, with your face smushed into Jisung’s chest, where he’s already snoring next to you.
When Jisung returns to his and Felix’ cabin in the late afternoon of the following day, he half expects Felix to be there, already waiting to interrogate him on where he was last night, why he left with the captain, what on earth he was thinking – but their cabin is empty.
Everything is as he left it, Felix’s bed neat and pretty, his own unmade, sheets still crumpled how he left them before meeting the captain to go and get the maps decoded, a mere 24 hours earlier. 24 hours and so much has changed that he’s dizzy with it. The decoding of his uncle’s maps, the discovery of his murderous plot, one that would cost many people their life, the whole region its stability, the people any hope of changing governance. Finally, an opportunity for revenge, for the captain, but also for him, and for everyone else.
And then … the night.
He still doesn’t know what gave him the confidence to approach her, to touch her, to touch Minho, to open himself, lay himself bare at their feet, telling them how much he wanted them. He doesn’t know if it was the absinthe, or the way the captain’s hazy eyes were dragging over his face, how Minho kept sneaking him glances, gaze snagging on his body. And he hadn’t expected anything to come of it, if anything, he’d banked on them rejecting him,= and hopefully forgetting it ever happened.
But no, Minho had looked at it him with so much heat in his dark, predatory eyes that he nearly sank to his knees right there. And the captain – God, her fluttering eyelids, soft, hazy gazes, silky skin and plump, sweet lips.
He will never forget the way his heart was beating out of his chest when he kissed her for the first time, world hazy with that green drink and the smell of her, rosemary and seawater and sweet, sweet love. His captain, the strongest person he had ever met, all intelligent eyes and mind-numbingly soft yet filthily demanding lips and sinfully soft body that she used with such confidence, indulged him in with so much trust. And Minho, sex on legs, so scary it made him hard, with his surprisingly soft and caring and talented hands and his beautiful, huge fucking cock that made him cum so hard he saw stars.
Jisung isn’t one to sleep around. He doesn’t need to pretend that this isn’t what it is for him. He likes them; is drawn to them like he hasn’t been drawn to anyone before. And he’s long past wondering how he can feel that kind of attraction to both of them. How could he, when their bodies melted together like they did last night.
Through the porthole, he sees the sun where it’s starting to dip below the horizon, past the islands of the cove of Nassau, and realises that Felix probably needs help with dinner, painfully notices that he would’ve needed help with breakfast and lunch, too. He gets to his feet before he can start worrying about what he knows, makes his way to the kitchen, ambling along the hallways, and he can’t help but realise how good he feels. His body feels limber, warm, well taken care of, well fucked. He can’t tell if he wants to keep the feeling to himself or wants to scream it from the rooftops.
When he woke up that morning, it was to the captains body pressed against his back, her tits rubbing against his back, her hand trailing over his stomach, down past his happy trail until she took his half-hard cock into her hand and starting palming him, before she threw the sheets to the side and crawled between his legs. Minho had scooted over, pulled Jisung into a kiss that was beyond anything his wildest wet dreams could’ve conjured up, nipping at his bottom lip and swallowing his moans when the captain sank him into her hot, wet mouth. He had blown his load in record time, cumming much harder than he thought he would be able to after the night before, but the captain’s nails digging into his thighs, Minho’s fingers meanly twisting his sensitive nipples and the captain’s tongue working some kind of witchcraft on his cock made him fold easily.
But they didn’t seem to mind, the captain sliding up to kiss him with traces of his spend still on her tongue, whispering about how irresistible, how perfect he was, until he was dizzy. And then Minho dragged the captain back into the pillows, kissed her quick and dirty, much to Jisung’s cock’s delight, before he slid into her from behind, his cock tearing the most sinful, sigh from his captain’s lips. Minho fucked her lazily, slowly, indulgently, and Jisung had been unable to look away, his own cock already painfully hard again just from the beauty of them, intertwined, right in front of him. Jisung was helpless, followed blindly when captain breathed out his name like a prayer, dragging him closer. He pressed himself to her front, her soft skin sliding against his with every single one of Minho’s thrusts, and he had indulged, swallowing her moans with his mouth, his hand snaked between them to rub his cock against her clit, fingertips sliding down to rub where Minho was fucking into her until she came, creamy and wet, and all over both of them, so filthy and perfect that it pulled Jisung over the edge again, spilling all over her thighs and Minho’s cock when he pulled out and unloaded all over them.
Minho had gotten up without another word, left Jisung in bed with the captain, who calmly told him he was drawing them a bath when she noticed him fidget. And for an anxious second, Jisung had to fight with the knowledge that this was normal for them, that they did this often, they belonged together and he – was an intruder. He felt their tenderness, and he felt like they were all on the same page, but what if that was not what they thought after all. What if he was a temporary distraction, a one-night fling, something to spice things up, before they dropped him as soon as he left the room. But then the captain pulled him in with those same achingly solid, confident, and beautiful hands and kissed him lazily, willing him out of his head and right into her pliant warmth. And she kept kissing him, protesting so heartbreakingly in the back of her throat when he so much as slightly pulled back, and he could do nothing but succumb, lips trailing over skin, sucking bruises and laving tongues, until his lips were swollen and raw and his heart beating in his throat with the sheer magnitude of what he was feeling.
It was clear that whatever the captain and Minho had, was more than sex, whether they labelled it as such or not. They never said it, of course, but it was clear as day in the way they looked at each other, in the way Minho always checked in with her, in the way she touched him, pulled him close, almost like she needed his contact to survive.
He didn’t fully understand why they hesitated, when their love was so beautifully obvious to everyone around them, but he would give them time. He just hoped they would figure it out before they could shatter his own heart into a million pieces. But somewhere along the lines, Jisung seemed to have lost his own sense of self-preservation because he realised he would let them, just for the chance to have them like this, however long he could.
Jisung sends a tentative wave to some of his crew-mates in the living area as he passes, one they return lazily, passing a bottle of rum back and forth, presumably to nurse their way through the worst of their hangover.
The mess and the kitchen are suspiciously quiet as he makes his way in. Jisung assumed he would find Felix in the middle of prep, maybe peeling potatoes or cutting up some other vegetables, but when he opens the door, he is faced with four of his friends, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed in front of them.
Felix front and centre, his eyes furrowed into an expression of disapproval, Chan behind him, scowling in disappointment. Hyunjin was to the side, his head in his hands, as he observed Jisung without a smile. Seungmin sits on a stool, his iron glare boring into Jisung’s soul.
“Wha-,” Jisung asks, but his voice gives out. His heart thumps uncomfortably against his ribcage. He clears his throat, tries again.
“What is this?”
Felix’ frown doesn’t budge. It freaks Jisung out more than anything else. It feels wrong.
“This is an intervention,” he states, simply, and Jisung blinks stupidly. “For you. Because you slept with the captain.”
Jisung’s mouth falls open, ungracefully. The words, spoken like that, burn. He wants to correct him, wants to yell at him, tell him that it was so much more, so much more than just “sleeping together” and so much more than what Felix could ever know. But Felix continues before Jisung can even finish the thought.
“And don’t even try to lie about it, I saw you two leave last night.”
The fact that denial didn’t even enter his mind makes anxiety slam into Jisung like a freight train. Chan straightens up behind Felix, shifts his weight, before he finally explodes.
“I talked to you about this just the other day, Jisung. I came to you, in full trust, and I asked you why you kissed him.”
Jisung blanches. They’re all looking at him. He feels their disapproval like a punch in the gut.
“Yes, I told them, but only after you left with her last night. But the point is – I asked you not to pursue Minho, I told you that they have a thing going on, something that goes much deeper than we all probably know. And you said nothing would happen, and now what? You sleep with her?!”
Felix places a calming hand on Chan’s arm and he deflates. The pots are already boiling on the stove, Jisung notes. Seems like they planned this thoroughly. He feels like he might be sick.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Seungmin pipes up, getting to his feet slowly, calmly. His voice is as steady as ever. “Is this some kind of fucked up game you’re playing? Are you maybe still in your uncle’s pocket after all? Are you trying to take us down by destroying the foundation of our entire crew?”
Jisung makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a cough and an undignified squeal. It’s pathetic, and he hates himself for it so much he wants to throw up.
“Seungmin!” Hyunjin exclaims, and glares at the younger man. Seungmin just shrugs.
“Why beat around the bush?”
Hyunjin shakes his head and gets up, walks over to Jisung. Jisung notices how his eyes drag over his neck, and he suddenly feels very self-conscious, feels the drag of the captain’s lips against his skin still, feels his heartbeat in a bruise Minho sucked right below his jaw.
“Jisung, we don’t think you’re lying to us, okay?” Hyunjin reassures him, and he looks like he could be telling the truth, at least.
“But,” he continues, carefully, eyeing Jisung like he might explode any second. And he might. “you have to understand – we don’t know why else you would be … doing this. Going after the captain’s partner, then the captain herself. And now sleeping with her?! Do you have any idea what will happen when Minho finds out?!”
Hyunjin goes a little pale at the thought. He looks genuinely worried when he whispers the next words. “He’ll kill you.”
The implication, how wrong all of this is, finally pushes Jisung out of his stupor. He opens his mouth, tries to find the words, loses his courage. He wills his heartbeat back into his chest. Fixes his gaze on the floor.
“You … you don’t understand,” he mumbles lamely, and he hears Chan scoff. But Hyunjin steps closer, places a supportive hand on his shoulder.
“Try us. Maybe we can.”
“Hyunjin,” Felix says sharply, “we talked about this.”
But Hyunjin just fixes him with a glare before turning back to Jisung. Jisung feels suffocated under their eyes, the fading bites on his skin, the phantom of the pleasure still in his bones, it’s too much.
“I didn’t sleep with the captain,” he exclaims, and flinches, ”well, I did, but …”
“What the fuck?!” Chan barks, and Jisung flinches. He steels himself, and faces his angry face, all their angry, disbelieving faces. He lifts his hands defensively, hides behind them because he’s … scared, he realises.
“Let me finish. I did sleep with her, but I promise, it won’t be a problem, okay? Because … because,” it’s like the whole room is holding its breath waiting for him to drop the bomb. Then he realises it’s just him, and finally exhales. Shakily.
“… because Minho was there, too.”
Silence. Deafening silence.
Hyunjin takes a surprised step back, ogles him with wide eyes. Chan breathes out a quiet what?!, and even Seungmin looks shocked. “What do you mean Minho was there?” Felix asks, incredulous. Jisung blushes even harder. His face feels like it’s about to go up in flames. His chest like it will cave in. He thinks he might not make it through this conversation.
“Well, he was there. But not just … I mean, he was also … uhh … involved, so to speak …”
Everyone is still staring at him, so he just sighs loudly, throwing his arms up in defeat. Anxiety makes him stupid sometimes.
“We all fucked, okay? I fucked the captain, Minho fucked me, he fucked her, he sucked me off, I ate her out, …”
All four of them yell almost in unison, Chan trying to cover his ears, Seungmin squeezing his eyes shut.
“Well, fuck you! You asked!” he yells indignantly, irritation bubbling in his guts. This was really messing up his post-best-night-of-his-entire-life glow.
“You’re not fucking with us?” Felix asks, and Jisung shakes his head. Out in the living area they hear Minho’s loud voice yell something, and Hyunjin looks at Jisung, then at the door, and before he Jisung can stop him, he darts out. He returns moments later, dragging a confused, slightly irritated Minho behind him. When his eyes fall on Jisung, they do something that Jisung had never seen before. A softening, a glimmer of familiarity. It’s breathtaking. Jisung almost makes the mistake of smiling at him like a lovesick fool. But he catches himself.
“Minho, we need you to be honest with us. What did you do last night?” Felix asks, sombrely, but much softer than he was to Jisung. Jisung bristles, turns to Minho.
“They ambushed me to confront me about last night, and they refuse to believe what you were there,” he explains, and Minho’s face goes from confused, to angry, to stony. Then he slowly turns to Felix, nails him with a glare so utterly dark, Jisung doesn’t know how Felix can stand it. But he does.
“What did I tell you about speculating about the captain and my private life? And what did I say I would do to you if you told other people about your theory?”
If Felix is intimidated, he’s hiding it well. He tosses his head.
“We’ve all long known that something is going on between you and the captain, and your secret is safe with us. Nobody beyond this room knows, and none of them will learn of this conversation. We just want to make sure nobody is fucking with our captain.”
Minho stares at him for a little longer.
“Nobody beyond this room?”
Felix shakes his head.
“Nobody beyond this room knows what we’re talking to Jisung about, and nobody will know.”
Minho nods, freezes for a second, blinks. Then an almost eery, slightly evil smile stretches across his lips. Felix, to Jisung’s satisfaction, finally looks a little bit uncertain.
Minho half turns to Jisung, fixes him with a look that makes a shiver run down Jisung’s spine.
“In that case,” he muses, “Jisungie’s not lying. He was with me and the captain last night.”
Jisungie. Jisung’s heart skips a beat.
And before he knows what’s happening, Minho takes two steps towards him, easily tips his head up with his thumb and kisses Jisung, right there, right in front of them. Jisung’s eyes widen before they slip shut, and he melts into it. Minho licks into his mouth, practised, almost sweetly, and altogether way too filthily for the situation they find themselves in. Jisung knows it’s to punish them. He kisses him back dirtier. Minho smiles against his lips. He’s already aching with need all over again.
But Minho pulls back much too quickly, leaving Jisung dazed and sobering and blushing and entirely unable to meet anyone else’s eyes.
“That clear things up?” Minho asks, looking straight at them, sickeningly sweetly, his hand still cupping Jisung’s face. He doesn’t even wait for their response before he turns on his heels and stomps out of the kitchen. Jisung wishes he could just follow him, but he has to face the music.
“Jisung,” Hyunjin says softly, hesitantly comes closer again. He places his hands on his shoulders, but Jisung’s patience is at its limit. He brushes Hyunjin off, ignores the latter’s pained grimace.
“Why do you always assume I’m lying?” he asks, indignation thick in his voice. The faces looking back at him are surprised, Hyunjin just looks guilty.
“No matter what I do, you always think I’m trying to sell you out. Last time with Minho, now with this. Why are you so dead set on the fact that I’m going to betray you, when I have done nothing to make you think that?! I keep telling you that I’m on your side, I kill my uncle’s men right in front of you, I help the captain and Minho formulate a plan to take him down and then … I come back here and the first thought you have when I just … do what I want to do, is that I’m, somehow, trying to sell you out?! What the fuck?!”
He feels a familiar tightness in his chest and the way Chan avoids his eyes, the way Hyunjin grimaces at him, it only makes him angrier.
“Just say you don’t fucking trust me and be done with it. But that means what I do and who I fuck is none of your goddamn business.” And with those words, he turns around and stomps out of the room. Nobody even calls after him.
He pretends to be asleep later that night, when Felix turns in for the night. He’s later than usual, Jisung can tell from the position of the moon he’s been staring at for the last few hours as he has willed the warmth, the pleasure back into his body, where it had been displaced by cold shame. He hasn’t been very successful. He could’ve gone back to Minho and the captain, but he couldn’t bring himself to. If they rejected him now he might do something stupid. He still might, because the thought of them, together, as they always have been, happy and sweet and without him, as they always fucking have been, sends him spiralling into territory he would rather not go.
But now Felix is here, changing out of his clothes quietly. Jisung knows he’s late because Jisung wasn’t there to help with clean-up. He knows it’s petty, but he thinks it’s only fair.
When Felix has changed out of his clothes, he doesn’t climb up to his cot immediately, like he usually does. He wavers, before he gingerly sits on Jisung’s bed.
Jisung can’t swallow down the scoff he makes. Felix doesn’t take the bait. Jisung wishes he did. Anger would be easier.
“I think it’s because nobody around here has ever been as honest as you,” Felix finally murmurs. He sounds apologetic. He hesitates for a moment, as if to see if Jisung will interrupt him. But Jisung stays stubbornly silent.
“The likes of us usually don’t go around wearing our hearts on our sleeve like you do. Even when we’re on someone’s side, we play our cards close to our chest. Because you never know, you know? It takes a lot for us to trust someone. Because we all got fucked over one too many times by people we thought we could trust”
Jisung stays still, lets Felix’ words wash over him.
“But you …” Felix continues, and lets out a weak little laugh, “you walked in that first day, and you seemed to have already decided that you would trust us. You gave us your story and told us you’d be ready to turn against not just the governor, but your own family and … well, nobody else has ever just been like that. It almost felt … too good to be true.”
Jisung clamps his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to give Felix the satisfaction of arguing with him again. Not after everything else has been used against him.
“But that’s not your fault, is it,” Felix murmurs, and Jisung can’t help it any more. He turns around, sits up, stares at Felix. Puffy eyes and bruised neck and shame and all. Felix looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor. “I think it’s admirable. It’s … it’s why I like you so much. I’m pretty sure it’s why the captain likes you, and Minho, too. Scratch that, it’s why everyone has been so immediately taken with you. You are so easy to love, so easy to trust, we’re just all … hurt and jaded and in pain …”
“So am I, though …” Jisung mumbles and Felix huffs out a small, humourless laugh. He places his warm hand on Jisung’s leg. Jisung hates how much the touch soothes him. Felix gives him a sad little smile.
“Well, then you’re doing a hell of a job loving regardless.”
Jisung doesn’t entirely know what that means, but he doesn’t ask. After a beat of silence, Felix speaks again.
“What I’m trying to say is that we’re sorry, I’m sorry. The thing is, we do trust you, deep down, more than we would anyone else considering how long we’ve known you, and we love that you’re part of the crew because you added so much. Maybe that’s why the idea of you turning on us now is extra painful. It would shatter a lot of our trust, again, and, like I said, we’re already bad at that. Trusting people.”
He squeezes Jisung’s thigh one more time, before he gets up. Jisung misses it. Felix hesitates in front of his bed, fiddles with the hem of his pyjama shirt, avoiding Jisung’s eyes.
“Can I ask, though … If you didn’t sleep with the captain and Minho to break them apart, why did you sleep with them?”
Jisung stares at him, feels his face heat up. His chest aches where his heart is threatening to break.
“Because I wanted to,” he says quietly, eyes falling to the patchwork of his sheet, plucking at a stray piece of string.
“Do you … I mean, is it just fun or … do you like them?” Felix asks, and Jisung huffs out a humourless laugh.
“I really like them. Both of them. Like, way more than I should.”
Felix hums, but Jisung doesn’t dare look up. The silence he’s met with hurts. Feels portentous.
“Be careful, Jisung, with your heart,” Felix finally says. It’s small. Quiet. “When I say we’re bad at trust, I mean we can also be pretty bad at that kind of thing. Love. We don’t usually get to have that any more. We usually think we … don’t deserve it.”
Jisung feels his words like tiny little knives stabbing him in his chest. Outwardly he just nods and Felix looks at him, sighs, and turns to climb up to his cot.
“Okay, enough lecturing. I’m sorry, Jisung, I really am. And I trust you. I’m glad you found us.”
He already has one foot on the ladder when Jisung manages to breathe out his name.
“Felix?”
“Hm?”
“Can I have a hug?”
Felix chuckles, light and airy, and it makes some of the weight from Jisung’s heart dissolve into the night.
“Of course, silly,” he says and lunges onto Jisung’s bed, tackling him to the mattress. Jisung squeals, yells, pretends to shove Felix off, but the warm weight of him, his hair, soft and still smelling like plum pudding, it’s all he needs.
They wrestle and yell until Changbin slams his fist into the wall and yells at them to shut up.
< chapter VII - chapter IX (coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET) >
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Screen Identity: Mismatched Passion | EP. 1 PAPILIO ULYSSES
— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —
“I know we don’t like each other,” you’ve made that very clear, Y/N, “but I will always make sure you’re safe, yeah?”
[ abstract ]: After a rough break up during semester break, you’re put in a class with none other than your longtime academic rival Han Jisung once university starts again. Things don’t get any easier considering he’s your older brother’s best friend and destiny decides to assign you two to a partner project. Luckily, you can distract yourself a little by chatting with the mysterious guy you met online a couple of months ago, getting closer both emotionally and physically with him, absolutely unaware he might be nearer than you would expect…
[ general ]: jisung + fem reader, gamer + stoner jisung, gamer reader, academic rivals/enemies → lovers, brother’s best friend, minho is reader’s slightly older brother, college au, smut + angst + fluff, accidental online dating, inexperienced jisung + inexperienced reader [ real life ] vs simp jisung + brat reader [ online ] so they act a lot differently while chatting, please refer to series m.list for more info
[ warning ]: explicit sexual scenes [includes sexting and video sexting, masturbation (m + f), reader gets called doll, praise kink, mention of choking ], consumption of alcohol and being drunk, mention of break up, cheating and slut shaming (?)
[ words ]: 7.3K
[ note ]: I'm so sorry for the long wait but the first part of my new series is finally here. In case you liked it make sure to leave a comment, reblog or slide into my asks or DMs. I always appreciate any kind of kind interaction and feedback. Also, make sure to read The Experience Project, my other series that is part of the same universe!! Lots of love, Cece 🩷
— Two months ago —
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: gg
You stare at the message. Why is the person you just beat in the last round texting you privately instead of using the group chat?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: uhm wrong chat?
You have never talked to them before let alone engaged outside of the huge server you’re on, so it confuses you. It’s nothing out of the ordinary but it still surprises you.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: we’re on the same gaming server and you just won the game again, so gg
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: why are you texting privately to tell me good game?
Seeing the person typing, you wait for an answer before the notification sound echoes through your bedroom.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: no, not gg as in good game, gg as in good girl ;)
Oh, God. You should have seen it coming. Well, it’s better than the usual insults you get on a daily basis for the lame fact of being a woman and men’s ego—or dick size—being so small they can’t handle a female gamer’s existence.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: what if I was a 50 year old dude
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i don’t discriminate by gender or age
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: are you tho
You chuckle. For the first time in several hours. You don’t have a reason today after all. Seojun—your now ex boyfriend—broke up with you out of the blue, not really giving you any good explanations except for it’s not you it’s me or we don’t match as well as I thought.
Since you don’t want to annoy your best friend Hannah who is currently working on her thesis, you decided to drown your sorrows in freshly baked cheesecake, sugary lemonades and a couple of rounds of your current favourite video game.
You feel pathetic but you allow yourself to be that way for some time. It’s better to let feelings out and deal with them before they can turn into a bigger mess or else you end up like your older brother—a wannabe tsundere who starts crying at any slightly emotional scene during a movie marathon.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: No, I’m a woman. That just beat you in a game three times in a row.
You decide to tease that mysterious guy. After all, there’s nothing to lose and you can use a little distraction.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: yeah this is why I decided to text you
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: kinda hot ngl
Perhaps you’re in fact a little pathetic, considering the fact this comment just made you feel flustered.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Thank you? You’re actually the first guy to say that. Usually, I get insulted on here for being a girl. 🥰
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: sorry about that, some men are just insecure I guess 🤷🏻♂️ sometimes I am embarrassed about my own species
Okay. So the person is a man.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: how old are you btw?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: if it’s okay i’m asking ofc
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i’m 22 and you?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: 23 :)
You just decide to trust him here. Sure, there are lots of creeps out there but this guy seems to be rather decent.
Noticing something else—regarding his username—you keep the conversation going.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: What’s your name about?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: J.Zero-N-E? Is that some hint at 2NE1?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: j.One. it’s the letter O.
Huh? You catch a closer glimpse of the name on your screen, shining in bright letters on the dark background. This is definitely not an O.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: But you used the number zero.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: perhaps I’m saving that letter O
The hell is he talking about?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: For what?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: it’s what your mouth will be shaped into when I make you come on my dick, baby
What a fool you are for thinking this man wasn’t like all the others.
It’s funny though. Or your humour is just broken at this point.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: 😂😂😂
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Oh, pretty boy please. Don’t think you have a chance here. Has this ever worked on someone?
He types. Then he stops. He types again and sends his message.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: okay, tbh J.One with an O was already taken. but I’m not. i’m single and ready whenever you are.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Why are you such a simp? Jesus Christ…
For a long time in your life you thought that there’s nothing less attractive than a man that runs after a woman, doing everything to gain her attention while making a fool out of himself.
Until Seojun said something so devastating to you earlier that you realised there’s a worse type in men when it comes to flirting.
Those who make you feel small for your interests and desires. You can instantly sense yourself spiralling again, thinking back to how he told you that you’re too weird and too openly minded all the time, admitting he realised he prefers women who are reserved and perhaps even virgins.
The craziest thing of all this is that you’re inexperienced too. Your body count hasn’t managed to get past the number one but Seojun made it seem as if you were the opposite. He was the one to take your virginity, which just makes this even more fucked up.
But you decide to focus on the conversation with the somewhat funny stranger instead.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: tsk what
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m not a simp wdym
Says the simp. He’s entertaining, that j.0ne guy. You should just see where this goes and make the best out of your evening by chatting with this mysterious gamer.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you are
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: and a pretty bad one lmao
You notice something else now. He’s got a cute little emoji attached to his odd username and you soon realise it’s an animal too, just like your butterfly one.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: why the squirrel tho?
You see him typing while you take a sip from your lemonade and grab a handful of the crisps that you put in a bowl some time ago, soon realising it’s almost empty again.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I’m fast ;)
A laughter bursts out of you and you almost swish the crisps bowl down the table.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: sexually speaking this isn’t a good thing…
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: oh god this is not what I meant
You can imagine what he looks like right now—face as red as a tomato while the colour reaches up to his ears. Although you have no idea what he looks like in general. Not that it would matter, though.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you’re calling me god already? 😌
You’ve missed this version of you. The teasing, flirty one that only ever comes out when you feel comfortable around a person. With Seojun it was like this in the beginning too, until he became weirder and weirder with every approach you made towards him.
You’ve been pushing those thoughts aside but thinking back—what if there was another reason for both the breakup and his change in behaviour? You don’t want to believe it, but the bubbling pain inside your stomach tells you there might be a slight chance that he has met someone else. Perhaps even dating another person while still being with you.
Nausea takes over your body. You take another sip from the lemonade and from your water bottle that’s on top of your desk as well, before your eyes shift towards the screen again.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: don’t get flustered, doll. you haven’t told me your name after all.
Doll. You hate to admit but you kinda like that he calls you by a pet name instead. This makes this whole situation even more forbidden. Although nothing about this is forbidden at all. You’re single, you don’t have any history with that stranger, so why the ongoing thoughts?
Still, you decide to lead him on some more, rile him up. He for sure doesn’t deserve to know your actual name just now and besides that, you’re always careful with what information you hand out to literal strangers online.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you’ve gotta earn that. I don’t give such private information out to anyone :)
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: oh? you want me to beg for it?
You gulp. You’ve always thought you’re more on the submissive side. Well, there was a situation when you asked your now ex boyfriend if you could try switching roles and he looked at you as if your words just made his fragile masculinity crack like a raw egg.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I’m not surprised at all you’re offering that
That j.0ne guy does give off vibes that fit some submissive agenda. You can tell just by this little interaction with him.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m not. i usually prefer to be the dominant part, you know.
You laugh out loud. Yet again. Wow, you really didn’t expect some random dude online to distract you from that horrific breakup you went through just half a day ago. You could get used to this.
Okay, calm down. Perhaps anything could put a smile on your face after all this shit.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I don’t believe you lmao
Because you don’t. Not if this man has been nothing but the textbook definition of a simp so far. Not that you complain, though. It’s nice to have someone to give you all their attention despite how selfish it sounds. You allow yourself to be this way for tonight and j.0ne seems to be willing to grant you exactly this.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: want me to prove it to you?
A smirk forms on your lips.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: isn’t this the most subby thing to say
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i-
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you’ll see, doll
The use of the name lets adrenaline rush through your veins.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: looking forward to it 🤭
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: well, and until then I’ll just keep calling you doll 😏
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: and show you what I actually mean with being fast
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: fast to make you come
Your ex never called you any pet names—neither when on dates with you nor in bed. If any, he made you feel bad for the kinks you were wanting to explore, always making you feel weird or different about your desires. Almost ashamed, if you’re honest. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of it. How he made you feel humiliated—not in the good way as you suggested to him, rather mentally and not sexually speaking at all.
You’ve been wondering if something is wrong with you and you’re aware that this guy you’ve been chatting with for—a quick glimpse at the time—half an hour can’t answer that question for you either. But you first wanna start with finding yourself again and trying to figure out what it is that you want in your life. Generally speaking but also from a potential future partner that hopefully isn’t anything like Seojun.
It would be ridiculous to say that you think of j.0ne that way. You literally met thirty minutes ago, he could be lying about his whole identity and live on Pluto for what you know. So, you decide to slow it down, always with the idea lingering in the back of your mind that you want to keep this conversation going for just a little longer.
Despite the fact that this little use of pet names and teasing does in fact turn you on. God, Y/N, you’re touch deprived as it seems. Not surprising at all after these past weeks with your ex.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: what happened to getting to know each other first?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: why not both?
— Today —
You feel as if someone injected bleach straight into your veins. Perhaps, this would hurt even less than the scene that your eyes are currently witnessing.
His arm is snug around her shoulder, pulling the beautiful girl towards him as if they’ve done this a thousand times before. It seems as if this gesture is familiar, common to them.
You should have known. Well, deep down you did know. Especially since Hannah has been telling you nothing but these exact suspicions for the past two months. Then why is the pain so humiliating if you’ve already grasped it?
Seojun didn’t just break up with you because you didn’t match. He ended things because, apparently, he’s already had another girlfriend. Sure, you can’t prove that he cheated on you and you feel your insides turn out at the sheer thought of it but it hurts nonetheless.
Kim Nabi. Yes, her name means nothing else than butterfly. Your favourite animals. And it seems as if you weren’t good enough for Seojun. But how are you supposed to compete with a girl that looks like a literal fairy and is an A+ medical student?
Meanwhile you’re here, barely passing your classes and cursing yourself for majoring in music production. It’s lots of fun, sure, but you could have done something that’s less exhausting and time consuming for sure.
But Y/L/N Y/N never takes the easy path. And you know you’re gonna be okay. Regarding your studies. Regarding Seojun. Regarding anything else.
“Watch where you’re going,” you hear a familiar male voice spit out, right after the source of the noise bumps his shoulder right into yours, fully on purpose.
You roll your eyes and scoff, “Good morning to you too, Han.”
Calling your brother’s friend by anything but his family name is weird. It’s not as if you’re trying to be extraordinarily formal with him but he should know that you’re nothing close at all besides the fact that he’s been besties with Minho since you all were in kindergarten.
Han Jisung has many faces and personalities of which all of them manage to annoy you on a daily basis. When you were children, he used to either steal your plushies and hide them or tug your hair just for the fun of it. Once you were older, entering your teenage years, he started becoming both a bit distant but also began his manipulative strategies that included scaring off any male individual that came too close to you. Whenever you called him out on it, he babbled something along the lines that your older brother told him to do that. Since Minho isn’t that fascinated about you—his younger and oh so innocent sister—having a boyfriend either, he played along.
So, now you find yourself here, in your third year of college, severely confused and fed up about the fact that the only guy you’ve ever been in a relationship with and went beyond kissing is Seojun. Yikes. Perhaps, if Minho and Jisung had allowed you to have some dumb and even hurtful experience a few years ago you would be a bit better at categorising which men to date and which to stay away from. And you for sure wouldn’t spend all your nights chatting and sexting with a stranger on Discord for the past two months.
“Is he bothering you again?”
Your best friend has been standing next to you for God knows how many minutes but you didn’t notice her.
“What’s new?” you say, rolling your eyes.
Hannah pulls you into a quick but thoughtful hug, “How’re you, dear?”
“Just… I just saw Seojun holding hands with Nabi,” you blurt out, knowing that you won’t be able to hide any emotions or secrets from your best friend. Except for a single one. A very particular one that includes a certain guy you met online and whom you haven’t told anyone in your close circle about.
“What a fucking asshole, I swear if I see him–“
“No violence, Hannah,” you interrupt her.
She gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to my best friend?”
“Funny. Shall we get to class?”
“Sure,” she giggles before she reaches for your hand and intertwines it with yours, pulling you towards the lecture hall.
Once you’re there, you place your bag down and tell your best friend that you need a minute in the bathroom. It could have been an illusion—you wouldn’t be surprised—but you think you received a message from the one and only j.0ne on Discord and for sure you have to see what he’s up to. Since he’s a college student too, school is starting for him today as well and you’ve been thinking about a naughty little gesture that should motivate him to get him through the day. After all, you’re very thankful for what he’s given you these past weeks—endless talks about anything bothering you in life but also hot pics and videos that made it kind of hard for you to not slip your fingers past your pyjama shorts whenever you’ve been having trouble falling asleep at night.
You disappear inside one of the stalls and reach for your phone. You were right. He texted you and it takes every strength inside you to not start giggling in a public place.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: have a good first day of uni, doll 🩵
Conversations with him have been kind of versatile. User j.0ne has many faces and personalities of which all of them manage to excite you on a daily basis. Sometimes the two of you are teasing each other with no end, then you get back to philosophising about life. He’s helped you a lot regarding getting over your ex these past weeks and you wouldn’t want to miss it.
That’s why you’ve prepared something for him. You open your phone gallery and choose the media in question, before you hit ‘send’.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [ attached image ]
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you too 😘
It doesn’t take him less than half a minute to bombard you with text messages.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: fuck me
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I’m in the middle of a lecture are you fucking kidding me
Goal achieved.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you’re welcome ;)
You wait for him to reply again and what follows is everything you ever needed from your number one SIMP. It’s not as if you have anything going on with anyone else, but receiving attention from j.0ne keeps you excited, no questions.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i indeed am 🥵
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you’re literally unreal 😫
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: a gift sent from heaven
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: supernatural almost
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: should start calling you an angel instead 😇
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: or a witch regarding the fact I’m trying hard (pun intended) to hide my boner in class 🫣
A smirk is plastered all over your face and you wished you could see him right now, sitting in a lecture, cheeks and ears flushed red, his cock definitely hard as rock being neglected inside his pants and there’s nothing he can do. Because you’re not there and you won’t be. Besides the fact that you both realise that you live in the same city, you haven’t agreed on meeting—yet. Which makes this even more fun to tease him.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: that red lingerie suits you best
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: everything suits you best tbh with those pretty tits 🤤
The boost this gives for your ego—especially after seeing Seojun and Nabi—is out of this world. However, you shouldn’t miss your own lecture either, so you wrap this up and decide to come back to him later.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: pay attention to the class, j.0ne 🙂
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: text you later!! ❤️
When you get back to the lecture hall, Hannah is already waiting for you, her gaze fixated on a certain someone.
“What the fuck is this idiot doing here?” she asks, pointing at Chan in the distance who is just about to approach you two.
“Your brother?”
“Yeah, or do you see someone else who qualifies for that position?”
“Since Minho isn’t here, no,” you reply.
“We will forever suffer as the younger sisters, hm?”
You probably will. Perhaps, this is one of the reasons Hannah and you get along so well since you both know the struggles too damn much.
“Hey, Hannah,” Chan says, getting closer, “hey, Y/N, how’re you?”
“Fine, fine,” you answer, meaning it. While Hannah—for obvious reasons—doesn’t get along with her older brother that well, Chan and you have been becoming friends throughout the last year since he is helping you a lot with uni because he majored in the same field as you. You’re glad to have him in your life, it’s almost as if he is your older brother too. Not in a way that Minho is, for sure, because you talk about topics with Chan that your actual brother isn’t aware of—for instance the Seojun drama.
“You’re still up for studying tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure! I didn’t forget in case you’re implying that,” you say with a wink.
Chan places the palm of his hand on his chest, “I would never. Also, just to clear things—I’m here because I work as a tutor with the class that you guys have to take for this lecture and that’s why I listen to the lecture as well.”
Hannah’s older brother has already graduated college, now working as a tutor while partaking in his PhD programme. You look up to him, without a doubt. You barely know anyone who is as hardworking and talented as him and you can always learn a lot from Chan. He says a quick goodbye to you, before he approaches the professor that has now reached the lecture hall and starts discussing something with him.
“So,” Hannah starts, once her brother is out of sight, “you’re up for drinks tonight? The other girls are there, too.”
You’re not sure. On one hand, you love nothing more than a girl’s night. On the other hand, it still feels so fresh to go outside and live life again after the breakup. But perhaps that’s what you need to do to finally get over your ex.
“Count me in.”
“It’s so fucking loud in here, I can barely hear the shit you’re saying,” you scream into Yuna’s ear and she nods. Your choice of words isn’t the prettiest but all the alcohol in your system does your thinking tonight. After all, you saw Seojun and Nabi again, which resulted in your friend group and you changing clubs and heading to this crowded place instead. It's loud, your boots are sticking to the floor and you’ve been dangerously close—three times—to getting someone’s beverages downed all over your black dress.
“Sure, I’ll get another drink for you, darling!” Yuna yells before she leaves you standing there.
Yeah. She obviously did not understand anything you said but you’re not here to complain. You’re already a few too many drinks into the night. Another one won’t do any much more harm, right?
You decide to take a step away from the crowd, walking towards the entrance of the club to go outside for a bit and catch some air. In order for Hannah and Yuna to not worry about you, you text a quick message to the three friends group chat with a weird name. Yunjin, Lily and Minjeong already left half an hour ago, being the responsible part of the group while your best friend, your roommate and you decided to stay here a little longer.
Once you’ve made it outside, you take a deep breath, closing your eyes. It’s nice to calm down for a bit. The situation with your ex let the common anxiety bubble up in your stomach and head but the amount of alcohol managed to push it away for some time. Until you’re sober again tomorrow.
“Y/N.”
You open your eyes again just to roll them in annoyance when you see him. Of course, he had to be here too. Perhaps, your brother isn’t straying that far from him either. It sometimes really feels as if he’s following you and trying to keep an eye on what you’re doing. Chan and his friends aren’t like that. You envy Hannah for that.
“Han,” you say in a monotone voice.
He scoffs, his arms crossed in front of his chest and you can see—thanks to the tank top he’s wearing—that he’s been hitting the gym more often with Minho again. “Still calling me by my family's name after all these years?”
“Well, I wasn’t aware we’re friends,” you shrug your shoulders and look away in the distance.
Jisung chuckles and takes a few steps towards you, until you’re almost caged between the brick wall behind you and his body. You gulp, watching the reflection of the moonlight inside his eyes. Or perhaps it’s just a streetlight. What the hell do you know when you’re in a state like this?
“We’re not? That’s devastating to know,” he bluffs, giving you a pout. Jisung loves the makeup you’re wearing tonight. He always adores all the creative things you do with your face—from the black thick eyeliner wings to the glitter that often decorate your face, but it’s the bright red lipstick that’s threatening to hypnotise him tonight. Fuck, what he’d do to kiss those pretty lips of yours, just to shut you up for once whenever you talk back to him.
Jisung and your history goes far back, almost as old as his friendship with your brother. Despite all the teasing stuff and pranks he’s pulled, your brother’s best friend and you have always been in some rival dynamic. Similar hobbies when growing up and now majoring in the same field made you stay together, soon becoming something other people call enemies. You’re constantly competing with one another and you’re sure most of your motivation in college comes solely from your desire to be better than him in everything.
However, during the past years there has been blooming another aspect between you that’s a bit different. Sexual tension. Although none of you two would ever admit that. Not even while being as drunk as you are right now.
You roll your eyes again. “What d’you want, hm?”
His demeanour suddenly shifts, and does a full turn. Jisung blinks a few times and takes a closer look at your face.
“Fuck, how many drinks did you have?”
“Uhm, three?” You question, while holding up four fingers and squinting one of your eyes.
“God. Drink this here,” he hands you his glass.
“What’s it? Vodka?”
You just take a sip without waiting for an answer, realising his choice of beverage tastes pretty bland.
“Close. Water. I’ll go find Yuna and Hannah,” he says while tilting his head towards the entrance of the club.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom in the meantime,” you announce, before a hick up follows.
“Okay, then wait there, yeah?”
“Okay, Ji,” you say, nodding.
He gulps, before he reaches for your hand and brings the two of you inside the building again.
Once you’re in the bathroom and inside a stall, you grab out your phone and send a message to the man who’s been occupying your mind for some weeks now.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: heyyy you’re up?
You immediately get a few messages back.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: sorry I’ll be right back doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m out with friends and one of them needs my help
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: doesn’t know how to handle drinks and all
J.0ne could really be the man of your dreams. Or that’s just the alcohol talking. You wonder what he would be like if he took care of you that way. You’re sure you’d instantly feel safe in his presence. You’re sure he’d make you feel comfortable. You’re sure he’d protect you from all the evil in this world.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you’re such a sweetie sometimes j.0ne
You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, thinking about him.
Until he sends two more texts and the being flustered gets turned into pure jealousy.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m literally doing the bare minimum
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: she’s had too much and i’m looking for her friends
Hm. So he’s got someone in real life to take care of the way he should be protecting you, huh?
Your toxic thoughts get interrupted, when Yuna and Hannah find you—also severely drunk—ready to take you home. Catching a last glimpse of Jisung—not expecting him to be the one to get help for you of all people—you wave goodbye to him and leave the venue.
Once you reach your shared apartment, Yuna and you take off your makeup and head to each of your bedrooms. When you plug your phone into the charger, you realise you received a message some time ago, probably when you were still at the club.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m back doll
Perhaps it’s the fact you’re still drunk and over emotional from today, but you’re in the mood to start a fight. And user j.0ne is your victim.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: why you textin me when you have a gf
You know this is unreasonable of you but you want to know how he reacts, as fucked up as it sounds.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: gf?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i don’t have a gf?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: why do you say this?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: The friend you’re takin caer of
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Is she nt your gf
You feel ashamed. But you’ll apologise in the morning.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: doll…
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: 1) she’s just a friend and I’m just doing the bare minimum so that no men will take advantage of her when she’s wasted in a bar. i won’t be justifying myself for this.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: 2) you’re drunk too aren’t you?
You immediately feel bad for being like this. You feel sorry.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: 1) I’m soryr this was shitty of me. Youer rgiht yea
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: 2) no I’m as sobre as tomato
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: the fuck is that supposed to mean??
Well, if you only knew. But nothing makes sense any more after all the emotional torture you’ve been put in and all the intoxication swimming inside your veins.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I don’t know my head s sipnning lol
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Drink some water.
Your Discord man rarely texts with correct grammar and in combination with the dominant vibes he’s giving off, you could get used to such behaviour. Fuck. Why are you getting turned onby some gamer boy telling you to drink water? Is this really how low you've dropped, Y/N?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I like wehn you get domniant kike this yu know ;)
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Doll, I think I just had a stroke reading this sentence.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Despite that, stop flirting with me when you’re drunk.
You let out a laugh and blame it on being drunk. However, you’re also sad about the rejection you’re receiving although the—currently absent—rational part of your brain tells you it’s the right decision.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Why???? ;(
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: The fact I have to explain this to you. No sexual comments whatsoever if you’re under the influence, okay? We have an agreement.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: What a shame ;( wuold lov to be with yu rn ngl
During the past two months there have been some occasions of the both of you dropping hints here and there that you should meet. Still, you haven’t managed to see each other in real life since j.0ne and you are too shy to do that.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Yeah, me too, so I can make you drink some water and sober up.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: One question: are you at home or still out?
You roll around in your bed, reaching for your pillow.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: At home ;) wear8ng that skimpy red pyjama that yiu love and nothin underneth
You still can’t live a day without teasing him.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I’ll ignore this one.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Do you have some water with you?
There’s a full bottle on your nightstand table which is why you snap a quick pic of it and send it to him.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [attached image]
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Okay, drink all of it.
You do as you’re told, chugging down tthe liquid, as you start panting once you’re done. This was a great idea. Your head will thank you for it tomorrow morning. You decide to add another pic of the now empty bottle to the chat with the mysterious guy.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [attached image]
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Done!!
And the next message from him starts sparking something inside you—if you weren’t both so drunk and tired.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Good girl.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: You’re mean J ;((
He is. He knows what he’s doing.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: J? You’re calling me J now?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Hmm you like it??
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: I’d like it more if you put yourself under your blanket so you don’t catch a cold and go to sleep. We can always talk tomorrow, okay?
You roll your eyes but do as you’re told.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Okay fine,,, then I’ll go to sleep and the j.0ne thta alway visits my draems will take care of me isntead hihi
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: Sweet dreams, baby ❤️
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: Goodnight 🦋😇
You wake up with the worst headache known to mankind and you don’t wanna imagine what it would feel like if you didn’t have the bottle of water before falling asleep.
Unfortunately, you still remember everything. How you saw Seojun and Nabi at the bar. How Jisung talked to you. How your friends brought you home. And how you started a fight with j.0ne for no reason.
You reach for your phone and open the chat, staring at the letters before you switch down the brightness of the screen and activate ‘night shift’ mode.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: good morning
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: I wanna apologise
Of course he’s online, already texting you back.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: for what?
You take a deep breath before your fingers start hitting the phone screen.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: for the comment i made about you having a gf. i was drunk and a little jealous but i’m super happy you’re helping your friend like that. i shouldn’t get jealous over you just doing something any man should do in a situation like this. you did everything right and i hope your friend is okay??
It doesn’t take him long to answer.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: thank you, doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: she’s fine, no worries. her best friend brought her home.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: how are you tho?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: hungover 😅
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: but it’s fine
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: what about you??
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m always in a good mood whenever we’re texting
You roll your eyes while a smirk is decorating your face.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: simp
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: and not even ashamed of it 😌
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i have something for you
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: a little revenge for what you pulled yesterday morning
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: [attached image]
He put a spoiler warning over the message, so that you only see what picture he sent once you tap on it. Which is what you do. You get surprised with a view that should be forbidden. It’s a picture of him—his toned and tanned abs are visible, while he’s groping his bulge through the grey sweatpants, visibly hard.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: holy shit
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i have to get up and get ready for uni
However the hell you’re supposed to do that in the state you’re in and your Discord boy sending you semi-nudes.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: me too baby but i thought this would help you wake up
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i’m very much awake now thank you
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: fuck look at those abs
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i’m also very much horny now thank you for that one too
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: that makes two of us
It seems as if j.0ne is always horny. At least whenever he texts you. But you don’t mind. It’s great to finally have someone to live up to your fantasies and dark desires, although it’s not happening in real life. He’s helped you a lot with your… sexual frustration and insecurities that Seojun has caused and you’re thankful for that. In many ways.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: not even surprised tbh
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you wanna make up for yesterday?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i didn’t do anything wrong 😇
You don’t even notice how much you’re grinning, as you turn around on your back and impatiently wait for another text.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: we both know that’s a lie
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i thought you wanted to be a good girl for me at all times hm
and now look at you being a brat
Oh, if he could only see the pout on your pretty face right now.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i’m not a brat !!
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: just desperate :(
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: always here to help you darling
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: why don’t you touch yourself a little for me hm
You get up, still sitting on your bed as your ass crashes down on your calves and your knees hit the mattress. Opening your camera app, you switch to selfie mode and guide the focus to your upper body. One hand comes up and starts squeezing one of your tits, while you snap a picture.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: anything for you ☺️
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [attached image]
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: fucking hell
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: take that thing off
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i need to see the full view
Just a little bit—you tug down the fabric, revealing your naked chest to the camera.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [attached image]
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: like this? :)
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: yeah
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: oh god
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: what id do to have my face squished right between these two
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: simp
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: but my favourite one
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i need more pls
You know that user j.0ne is already stroking his pretty cock—you’ve done this a couple of times before by now.
Adjusting your position, you lean back and part your legs, placing your phone against your blanket that’s turned into a makeshift wall to stabilise the device on its own. You click on ‘video’ and start filming yourself for a few seconds. The touch of your own fingers will do, at least you hope so, when you start grazing over your mound and wander down to brush over your soaked but covered pussy.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [attached image]
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you’ve been warned
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: fuck you’re soaking
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: drenched
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: absolutely wet
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: for me hm?
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: just for you
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [attached video]
Another video follows, you’ve pushed the pyjama shorts aside and j.0ne can watch you play with yourself, just like he asked you to.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: baby
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: what you’re doin to me should be illegal 🥵🥵
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: i wish it was your fingers inside me :(
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: [attached video]
The squelching sounds are echoing through your room and in the video, as you’re trying to fit a finger after another, soon realising it won’t ever be enough. He could make you feel so much better with his pretty hands—one of them pleasuring your pussy while the other is wrapped around your throat, adding pressure to the sides. What you’d do for this to happen in real life.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m so hard doll
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: [attached video]
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: need your lips wrapped around my dick
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you’d look so pretty choking on it
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: your eyes watering while you’re drooling all over it
The video is like a free five star meal. The grey sweatpants are pulled down enough for his erection to spring free and j.0ne doesn’t waste any time to start stroking his length, squeezing it and letting out little whimpers and moans.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: id make you come so fast i promise
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: over and over again
You keep rubbing your clit with your thumb while three of your fingers are dipping inside your hole, stretching you out just right.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: video call?
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: [incoming video call]
Your heart stops.
But your brain has turned into mush and you can’t think properly anymore. So, you accept.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: yes please
A live version of all those videos is even better. You keep fingering yourself as you watch him stroke his dick faster and less than a minute later, he is the one to observe you coming all over your hand. You let out the prettiest moan his ears have ever witnessed, triggering his own orgasm in the process and you wish he was in the same room with you right now, so you could fully take care of each other.
Heavy panting is reaching the microphones, before he ends the call again.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: sorry for ending the call so abruptly
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: i’m still shy and all
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you just came all over your stomach for me and call yourself shy??
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: with talking, doll
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: yeah makes sense :D
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: it’s okay don’t worry
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: we will do everything at our pace yeah?
It’s not as if you are ready yet, either. You adore what the both of you have.
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: of course
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: you were so good for me btw
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: such a good girl
[ j.0ne 🐿️ ]: good luck with uni and have a nice day, baby ❤️
A smile forms on your lips.
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: thank you 😇
[ baby_butt3rfly 🦋 ]: you too ❤️
You’re somewhat normal again when you reach the classroom of your first course today. Sure, the hangover is still unbearable but you’ll manage to get through the day. There are already many people when you arrive, so you just drop down on one of the chairs in the back of the room that isn’t taken.
“How are you?”
Oh, fuck. Perhaps you should have paid at least a little attention when choosing a seat, since you are now right next to Han Jisung.
“Uhm, I feel like shit,” you confess. “Thank you for last night, though.”
It feels weird to be kind to him. Jisung and you don’t like each other. But you think back to what j.0ne said and maybe you’re apologising for your own sake and because you still feel bad for starting a useless fight with the other man.
“Don’t thank me for that. It’s the bare minimum. I know we don’t like each other,” you’ve made that very clear, Y/N, “but I will always make sure you’re safe, yeah?”
Before you have a chance to react, the prof storms into the class and starts with the lesson.
However, you don’t seem to be able to focus at any time during those ninety minutes. Your head is way too far gone—the hangover is getting the best of you, j.0ne is still on your mind and Jisung sitting next to you is confusing you a little too.
Your gaze switches towards his fingers, while you’re watching him take notes. His hands are… pretty. You’ve never noticed. Until now. He keeps tapping the wooden surface and at any normal moment you would be annoyed—after all this is Jisung doing something distracting.
“So, now that you know about the task and project for this class,” you hear the professor speaking, “I want you to pair up with whoever is sitting next to you and come up with a concept by next week.”
You look to your right, noticing only Jisung is sitting next to you since the chair on the other side is empty.
Oh, fuck. This is gonna be an annoying semester.
© leeknowsallyoursecrets 2024 — copying, stealing or translating my work is prohibited
#han smut#jisung smut#han jisung smut#stray kids fic recs#skz fic recs#stray kids fic rec#skz fic rec#han fic recs#jisung fic recs#han jisung fic recs#han fic rec#jisung fic rec#han jisung fic rec#stray kids smut#skz smut
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instead of you [part forty-one] || l.mh
pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung
summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.
warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni)
word count: 3.2k
a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!
additional smut warnings: semi-public messing around, oral - m+f receiving
The other resorts along the shore were nice, yes, but they were also crowded to all hell. There’s no way you would have been able to relax at any of them. Not just because crowds make you anxious, but because Minho probably wouldn’t be able to show his face anywhere. He’d have to wear a hoodie to the pool or swim with a baseball cap on, and even those weren’t guaranteed to be foolproof.
There were hardly any people occupying the outdoor spaces so late in the day so it was like you had the place to yourselves. You and Felix continued to play in the pool while Minho grilled steaks and Jisung worked upstairs. You offered to accompany Jisung while he cooked but he assured you that he was fine to do it himself. Sometimes you kept him company at home but you knew he liked to work alone as well.
The room that you and Jisung were staying in was a standard hotel room but Nikki and Dom had a suite with a kitchenette that he could use to prepare the side dishes.
You ate gathered around one of the fire pits as the sun sank beneath the waves in the distance. When it got too dark out, Dom lit the fire so that you could all see what you were eating. There were path lights littered around the resort but they weren’t bright enough to illuminate the adjacent sitting areas too.
“I wish we had marshmallows,” you sighed. “We could roast them and make s’mores.”
“I think the bar sells little kits,” Jisung piped up. “I remember seeing a sign posted on their menu.”
“How convenient!” Nikki exclaimed.
“Want me to grab some?” Minho offered, already standing from his seat.
You had once again put yourself on the spot. Everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.
“I-I’d feel bad. I’m the only one who wants them, so you don’t have to!”
“Don’t be silly, we’d all eat them,” Jisung assured you with a pat on your knee.
“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try s’mores,” Felix agreed.
Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait, you’ve never had one?”
“They’re an American thing, babe.”
“Does that mean you’re the only other one here who has had a s’more?” you asked Jisung.
“I might have had one before,” Minho added thoughtfully.
“Might? You don’t remember?”
“Yeah, well, when we were on the first world tour we had a lot of bonfires and shit but I was pretty drunk at all of them so there could have been s’mores there, there could not have been. I dunno.”
“Anyway,” Nikki swooped in, averting the attention away from her eldest son’s anecdotes of underage drinking. “Minho, why don’t you go grab a few kits from the bar Ji mentioned? I think your father and I would like to try a s’more too.”
“How many do you think we need?” Minho asked.
“It depends on how many each serves. Why don’t we start with two and if we run out of supplies we can send Felix up to get more.”
Felix made a face. “What, me?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to send Minho up twice,” Dom explained.
“What about Jisung?”
“He cooked dinner.”
“I’ll be right back,” Minho interjected, cutting Felix off before he could protest any further. “Does anyone want anything to drink while I’m over there?”
He took everyone’s order and then disappeared in the direction of the bar.
“Do you think he’ll need help carrying stuff?” you whispered to Jisung after he left.
“Oh, shit, maybe.”
“Should I go help him? Would that be weird?”
Jisung looked back toward his parents to check that they weren’t paying attention before answering. “No, I don’t think so. No one suspected anything other than me. Do you want me to go with you, though?”
“No, you cooked,” you reminded him, “you should stay and relax. I’ll go help him.”
He nodded. “Okay. Oh, but kiss me before you go.”
-
Minho was still waiting when you joined him at the bar. It was almost as deserted as the rest of the pool area. Only a couple of people were occupying the stools and they seemed to be strangers to each other, drinking in silence apart from the waves crashing on the shore nearby and the occasional sound of the blender.
“Hey, stranger,” you said, grabbing Minho’s attention with an elbow to his side.
“Hey... did someone forget to ask for something?”
“No, I came to help you. We realized it’s a lot of stuff to carry all by yourself.”
He scoffed. “You doubted me?”
The bartender placed the drinks and s’mores kit down on the counter in front of Minho right at that moment, leaving both of you to size up all there was to bring back to the fire pit.
“You could have carried all that without spilling anything?”
“Fine, maybe it’s good that you came,” he grumbled.
“Maybe?”
He set his jaw and took a deep breath. “It is good that you came. Thank you for helping. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.”
You grabbed two of the drinks while Minho took the rest, holding the plastic bags of s’mores supplies between his teeth.
Nikki and Dom cheered when you reappeared with everything. The twins looked marginally happier. It was honestly as much as you could ask for from them.
You spent the rest of the evening teaching the Hans how to make, what was in your opinion, the perfect s’more. There were only a few skewers to go around so everyone had to take turns, but it was nice to be able to take your time with something and relax. There hadn’t been much time to do that on this trip. Jisung had warned you of that in the beginning but you were still way more exhausted than you expected to be at this point. At least it was almost over.
The thought of the trip ending was one that you had been pushing to the back of your mind for weeks now. Especially now that Jisung knew what had happened, you didn’t want to think about what would happen when you went back home. Would you grow apart? Would he distance himself once he was no longer in forced proximity with you? Would Minho break up with you? It wasn’t just something you could ignore now. There were only a matter of days left.
When it was over, you would go back to Seoul with the Hans until the summer ended officially. But that would be different too.
“You’re burning your marshmallow, love,” Nikki said softly, putting her hand on your shoulder to get your attention.
“Oh!” you exclaimed and pulled your skewer out of the heat. You blew the flame out and transferred it onto a graham cracker.
“Do you want a new one?” Dom asked.
“No, that’s okay! I like them burnt, actually. I just didn’t mean to leave it in the fire for so long. It could have made a mess.”
Jisung’s dad shrugged as if to say ‘suit yourself’ before taking the rod from you and reloading it with fresh marshmallows.
If it was woodburning, the fire would slowly start to dwindle as the kindling turned to ash. Since it wasn’t, it was still burning as brightly as it had been at the start of the evening when Dom finally turned the propane off. Nikki collected the empty cups and dirty skewers to return to the bar.
“Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late.”
-
Felix was the first out of the four of you to go up to his room, leaving you with your best friend and... Minho.
The pool area was completely empty by then.
“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you two,” Jisung said and stood to leave.
You grabbed his hand to stop him. “Wait, no, you don’t have to go.”
“Yeah,” Minho agreed, a little less convincingly. “You should stay.”
Jisung shook his head. “No thanks, I’d rather not third-wheel.”
“Ji-”
“Take as much time as you need,” he said to you. “Just don’t get fucking caught by anyone else.”
You waited for him to leave before slumping forward and sighing into your hands.
“I thought you said he forgave you,” Minho whispered.
“He did. That doesn’t mean he’s okay with it,” you sighed.
Minho leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the loveseat, inviting you to sit with him. You crossed over to his side and joined him, allowing yourself to lean into his side. He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. It felt nice, to do something so domestic with him, even while sitting in complete silence. Still, you worried about someone seeing you.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“You.”
“What about me?”
“Just you.”
You didn’t want to give him the details and risk ruining the mood so you hoped he was content with that answer. Thankfully, he didn’t ask you to elaborate.
You shivered suddenly, unintentionally but thankfully changing the subject.
“Are you cold?” Minho asked.
“A little.”
“Should I turn the fire pit back on?”
You shook your head. “No, it’s so dark out now. It’ll only draw attention to us.”
“I don’t want you to be cold, though.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Minho didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t we get in the hot tub? You still have your bathing suit on, right?”
“Are we allowed to?”
He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
You followed Minho over to one of the many hot tubs on the property. It was tucked away behind the now-deserted tiki bar and also totally empty. Minho turned on the jets and ventured down into the water, holding his hand out for you to get in behind him.
You let out a sigh as you sank into the bubbling water, closing your eyes and resting your head against the pool’s edge.
“Better?”
“So much better.”
You looked over to see him smile. “Good.”
You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you were warm. The chill had seeped through your bathing suit too. You could feel it ebbing out of the fabric as well as your muscles the longer you sat in the water.
Minho settled next to you and put his hand on your thigh. It was comforting even though his hand was still cold.
“This is nice,” he said.
“It is nice,” you agreed. “I like being able to do just nothing with you.”
“We don’t get a lot of time to do that, do we?”
“No, not really.”
“Guess that just means we have to enjoy it while we have it.”
You sat up to look at him, wondering if he meant something more than what was implied when he said that. He met your gaze and gave you a questioning look.
“What?” You shook your head and sank further into the bubbles. You were reading way too much into everything. You needed to get a grip.
“What’s wrong?” Minho repeated. “Talk to me.”
“I’m scared to,” you finally admitted.
It wasn’t much, but you were finally being honest with Minho instead of skirting around his questions like you usually did. You could tell your answer hurt him but you were afraid that you’d hurt yourself even more if you told him everything. You had a feeling the conversation was going there anyway, though, and there was little you could do to stop it.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I don’t know... what we are?” You cringed as you said it. “And I don’t want to ruin things by asking, you know, because I like what we have going on and I don’t want it to go away but I also don’t want to get my hopes up by thinking we’re something that we’re not but sometimes you do things that make me think you want something more than... whatever it is we’re already doing but- mph!”
You were cut off with a kiss, like something out of a movie. It was brief, but enough to disrupt your train of thought. You stared at him incredulously, trying to read his expression.
His face was even but his eyes were warm. You wished you knew what he was thinking. Moonlight and the flickering flames of torches in the distance were just enough to illuminate his features. The quirk of his cupid’s bow, the flutter of his long eyelashes...
“What was that for?” you inquired, even though you knew what it was for.
“You were spiraling.”
You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t help it.”
“I know,” Minho said softly. “For what it’s worth though, I feel the same way.”
You lifted your head to look at him again, your vision slightly blurred by the water dripping down your face from your wet hands. “What?”
He hesitated. “I feel... what you said. I feel the same way.”
“I don’t even know what I said,” you laughed.
“Me either, but I got the general vibe of it and I’m in agreement.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I... I thought I was making it kind of obvious that I wanted something serious with you.”
“You never said anything outright, though!”
“Because I didn’t know what you wanted,” he explained. “You never said anything either.”
“Well, you’re the man!”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re going there? The feminism just evaporates from your body the moment you’re faced with confrontation?”
“See, you get it.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you now, okay? I want you. In all the ways you’re willing to let me have you.”
You swallowed hard, eyes burning. You didn’t want to start crying and you didn’t want Minho to see you crying so you kissed him again, with more urgency this time. You couldn’t think, hell, you couldn’t breathe, until he pulled away, leaving you wishing and hoping for more.
When your lips met for the third time, he pulled you under with him, just long enough to shock your senses. You gasped for air when you surfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes.
“You’re not supposed to do that!” you scolded, sputtering as you shoved him.
He stumbled backward onto the bench, falling seated again and pulling you on top of him.
“You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed.
“It’s not bullshit! It’s not good for you to put your head under the water in a hot tub!”
“I know people say that but why?”
“I... I don’t know why,” you admitted, “but I know you’re not supposed to.”
“See, you don’t even know!” You gave him a look. “Will you accept an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss?”
“That depends, are you actually sorry?”
He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he kissed you anyway, cradling the back of your head as he slipped his tongue past your lips. He tasted like s’mores and whiskey and chlorine, a combination so strange you couldn’t wrap your head around it.
One of his arms dropped to your waist, wrapping around your body and pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. You could feel him through his swim trunks, growing harder by the second. You were tempted to take him right there, but you were in public and having sex in a hot tub couldn’t be good either, right? That sounded like an infection waiting to happen.
“Upstairs?” Minho asked breathlessly, lips only centimeters from yours. Not for the first time you wondered if he could read your mind.
You nodded. “Yeah, upstairs.”
-
You dripped your way back to his room, shivering despite the thick towel wrapped around your shoulders.
“Wanna hop in the shower?” Minho asked between kisses as he fumbled with the straps of your bikini.
“Yeah, don’t want to get your bed all wet,” you replied.
“That would happen whether or not we had just been in the pool,” he joked.
“Hilarious.”
“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he hissed. “Let’s get these off of you, they’re so cold.”
“Is that the only reason you want them off?”
“I think we both know the answer to that.”
You knew Minho was expecting to have sex in the shower but you kind of wanted to fuck on the bed so you sucked his dick while he washed your hair and then took turns rinsing off before moving to his bed. You put your hair up in a towel to avoid the aforementioned wetness and wrapped yourself up in one of the hotel’s robes even though you knew it’d be coming right off.
To your surprise, Minho left your robe on. He just undid the tie around your waist and let it fall open before shouldering himself between your legs. It was kind of like putting a towel down. He was killing two birds with one stone that way: protecting the sheets and keeping you warm.
It didn’t take long for you to cum in his mouth. Minho knew your body like the back of his hand by now. It had taken him a fraction of the time it took your past lovers to learn what made you tick and he used all of that knowledge to his advantage.
He kept going after you came the first time, eager to pull another from you, but you pulled him up by the hair to get his attention before he could get too into it.
“Too much?” he asked.
“Want you to fuck me,” you urged.
Thankfully, he was receptive to this and moved up so that he could position himself on top of you. He notched himself at your entrance and kissed you as he pushed himself inside, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before pulling away and wiping his face on your shoulder.
“Ew!” you cried and tried to push him away.
Minho looked offended. “What do you mean, ‘ew’? It’s you.”
“That doesn’t mean I want me all over what I’m wearing!”
“Since when?” he joked. “Seems like it’s always all over what you’re wearing when you’re around me.”
“Can we please talk about something else?” you begged, suddenly embarrassed and grossed out at the same time.
Minho laughed and pecked you on the cheek. “What would you rather talk about? The weather?”
You tightened around him as punishment, making him swear and bury his face in your neck. “Fucking hell, you succubus.”
You smiled politely and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Don’t people usually say that if she can talk at all, you’re doing it wrong?”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “I was just taking it easy on you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, this was for your benefit,” he continued. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“How gracious of you.”
He clenched his jaw as he started fucking you faster, muttering sarcastically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was boring you.”
Ironically, you couldn’t respond right away, too caught up in the feeling of how deep he was inside of you to get any words out.
“I forgive you,” you choked out finally.
Your hands fell to his biceps, desperate for something to hold on to. You dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss through his teeth.
“Harder,” he urged. You squeezed harder and he gasped. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.”
“Like this?”
“Just like that, baby. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!
#lee know smut#lee minho smut#minho smut#stray kids fic recs#skz fic recs#lee know fic recs#lee minho fic recs#minho fic recs#stray kids fic rec#skz fic rec#lee know fic rec#lee minho fic rec#minho fic rec#stray kids smut#skz smut#han fic recs#han fic rec#jisung fic recs#jisung fic rec#han jisung fic recs#han jisung fic rec
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🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter VII
pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung
summary: will the code be cracked? will the captain, jisung, and minho finally crack, too?
word count: 7.7k
warnings: mentions of parent death; mentions of murder; ptsd flashback? very mild, tough; probably ooc ryunjin and yeji cameos; drinking
author's note: wheeee this one has lotsa plot (something still so new for me and this chapter felt like a huge turning point in my writing but I hope you like itttt) but also some other developments 👀 and some more minho backstory. enjoy!!!!!! ily all!!
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
series masterlist // skzms masterlist
< chapter VI - chapter VIII (coming: friday, april 26, 3pm CET) >
Minho thinks he can smell the stink of Nassau as soon as the ship rounds the sandbanks and palm trees of Hogg Island and enters the channel. It’s unlikely, he knows, but something about the familiar view of the tree-strewn main island, the church bells ringing across the water, of the squat houses along the coast, the call of the herring gulls overhead.
He forces himself to stand on the quarterdeck next to the captain, behind Seungmin, who navigates past the sandbank and into the wide harbour. When they get closer, Jeongin pokes his head out from the lookout.
“They are signalling for us to anchor at the quay!” he yells, surprise evident in his voice.
Hyunjin scoffs further down the deck, leans against the railing next to Chan.
“They know we’re about to make their traders half a year’s worth of money.”
The captain shrugs, a small, but pleased smile on her lips.
“Dock at the quay then, Seungmin,” she orders, and Seungmin nods.
Twenty minutes later, Minho’s boot hits the slippery wood of the Nassau quay – and now he’s really smelling it, the distinct mix of brackish water and heat-spoiled rum. A laughing gull starts its maniacal cackle on a pole sticking out of the water right next to him and suddenly, it’s 16 years earlier.
12-year-old Minho, tears running down his cheeks, mixing with the rainwater that was slowly, ruthlessly soaking him to the bone as he heaved shovelfuls and shovelfuls of wet, heavy mud out of the cemetery plot he had begged the vicar to let him have. He didn’t even have a headstone, only a cross he had nailed together out of one of their chairs and carved her name into, but he wanted her to have this. A resting place to call her own. The vicar had had pity on him, and had probably seen her at his services often enough. That, or he knew that Minho didn’t have anyone else to ask money from. He was alone in the world now.
Another shovelful hits the grass next to the hole he’s digging, and he sobs, his lithe arms shaking and his heart a dead thing in his chest, his mother’s voice still in his ears, telling him that he will be okay, that he can do anything he sets his mind to. That he’s her son, and that that alone means he will survive anything.
She didn’t, though. She was dead. He had found her, in her room. And now he was burying her. Or trying to.
He hears the laughing gull when the shovel slips out of his hands the first time. Intoning its mocking laughter, as the mud cakes into Minho’s wounds, stings so bad it drives more tears from his eyes. Only a few more feet to go, he tells himself; tells himself his mother is watching, has her warm, soft hand on his shoulder as he digs. He owes her this. The cold, gold cross is stuck to his chest. The laughing gull cackles. He picks up the shovel again.
“Minho?”
Hyunjin’s hand finds his shoulder and squeezes. His voice cuts through the fog in Minho’s head and suddenly the air is warm, the sun is burning down on him, his mother has been dead and buried for 16 years and he survived.
“Hmm?” is the only answer he can muster, along with a grimace of a smile. Judging by the look on Hyunjin’s face, he is not fooling anyone.
“Take a deep breath for me?” Hyunjin suggests softly and Minho does, focuses on the sun, the sound of the water lapping against the ship, on Hyunjin behind him and takes a shaky breath in and out. Hyunjin massages his shoulders gently, hums encouragingly.
“There you go,” he mumbles, rounding Minho so he can look at him. His eyes are big and full of worry. “Better?”
Minho blinks at him, nods, something tiny and needy raising its head in his heart; he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed his friends these last few months.
“Thanks,” he breathes out, but Hyunjin just smiles, shakes his head. Minho returns his smile, and it’s shaky, but apparently more convincing because Hyunjin pats his shoulder one more time before he steps back.
“Will you be okay? I need to go see about rations, but do you want me to get Changbin?” Minho shakes his head.
“’Captain and I are about to go see the code person now.”
Hyunjin nods, gives Minho’s shoulder one more solid squeeze before he turns and walks off and into town. The laughing gull has long since flown off, only the herring gulls crying above him as he waits.
But when the captain climbs down from the ship, any and all warmth Hyunjin left behind vanishes. Because Jisung is right behind her.
Minho’s shoulders tense almost immediately. Jisung fixes him with a shy look that is entirely too infuriating for Minho to handle. The gall, to act innocent …
“Minho, you ready?” the captain asks, quirking her eyebrow and giving him a glare that Minho doesn’t need so much as a second thought to interpret as be nice or else. He can be nice, he thinks. Though it seems that’s more Jisung’s forte. Being overly nice and worming his way into business that isn’t his.
His nod to the captain is terse, but she accepts it, motions for them to follow her down the quay and into the small town. He doesn’t spare Jisung another glance, his eyes stubbornly ahead or on the captain as she takes them down a lane to the right that leads straight out of the small town.
Minho doesn’t look left when they pass the street he knows leads to the old church with the little churchyard that he hasn’t been to in 16 years, though its presence burns a hole into his heart. Only when they’re almost all the way out of town does he realise his fists are clenched.
They walk in complete silence for a while, Minho’s scowl enough to intimidate Jisung and make the captain not want to deal with him. He doesn’t fight it. They walk and Minho notices, with considerable relief, how the stench of Nassau fades as they walk down the long dirt road. It’s almost serene out here, with the sea glimmering on one side, huts scattered along the road on the other, closely bordered by thick woodland. There are more birds out here, apart from gulls. A swallow flits from tree to another with a vibrant twitter, a heron stalks through the marshy water of a little inlet.
When they’ve gone a decent way out of town, the captain finally comes to a halt in front of one of the scattered huts. It’s a relatively large one, two-stories of wood with the paint chipping off, surrounded by an overgrown garden and bordered by a rotting, hand-built fence that looks like it’s seen better days. There are countless pots of all shapes and sizes lined up along the side of the house, bushels of herbs and other exotic plants Minho doesn’t recognise thriving towards the sun. The whole garden is unkempt, the native plants, taking advantage of their native soil, battling some more exotic plants that have clearly been planted with purpose. Nobody seems to bother to mediate this fight. Despite the heat of the day, there’s smoke billowing out of the chimney.
“Let’s hope they can help us,” the captain murmurs, and pushes open the rickety gate. Minho follows her first, leaving Jisung behind him, following right behind her as she walks up to the front door of the hut and knocks confidently.
There’s a commotion from the inside, and the door opens just a crack before it’s ripped open entirely. All Minho sees is a flurry of wispy black hair before two arms with countless golden bangles and bracelets wrap around the captain’s shoulders with a deafening jingle, pulling her into a crushing hug that almost sweeps her off her feet. The captain breathes out a yelp and a giggle, bubbly and light and entirely unfamiliar.
The blur of wispy hair and golden bangles pulls back, and Minho sees it’s a young woman, around the captain’s age, with a boyish face, sparkly eyes and a gigantic, warm smile on her face. She takes the captain by the shoulders and shakes her gently.
“You haven’t come to visit in three years, Y/Nie!” she exclaims, but it’s clear she’s just teasing. There’s no hiding the excitement in her voice.
The captain giggles again, and Minho swears it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.
“I’m sorry, Ryu,” she says, squeezes the other woman’s arms back, “I’m a little busy these days.”
“Of course, captain,” the woman laughs, and winks. Then her gaze finally sweeps past her old friend and lands on Minho and Jisung, her face falling, an unfocused confusion in her eyes as she looks between them, and then the captain a few times. There’s something penetrating in her gaze, like she’s seeing much more than he wants her to, and it unsettles him, makes anxiety prickle all over his body. Ryujin blinks at the captain, and the captain laughs nervously.
“Sorry, how rude of me. This is Minho, my second-in-command, and this is Jisung, he just joined us recently.”
Minho bows tensely, trying not to squirm away from the strange woman’s stare. Jisung next to him is a fidgeting mess, blushing as he bows. The captain turns to them.
“And this, this is Ryujin. She’s one of my oldest friends, along with … is Yeji here? We kinda need her help.”
Ryujin nods, and turns around, waving for the three of them to follow her.
As soon as Minho steps over the threshold, it’s like he steps into a furnace. There’s a fire burning in the fireplace, something bitter and herbal smelling brewing in a pot, and it fills the entire room with an excruciatingly moist heat and an overwhelming aroma. Sweat starts beading on his forehead almost immediately. Next to him, Jisung stumbles over a stack of books and Minho glares at him. Jisung blushes.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and Minho rolls his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you so nervous?”
Jisung shrugs, his bottom lip jutting out.
“I dunno, I just … I get nervous around new people, okay?” Minho rolls his eyes again, but he feels a flicker of warmth deep in his chest as he watches Jisung, his eyes big and sparkling in the low light of the fireplace, ringed fingers twisting around each other. He smothers the flicker brutally.
“Baby, is that really Y/Nie or am I hearing things,” a female voice calls from upstairs and as soon as Ryujin calls up an affirmative, a woman with cat-like features and fire-red hair comes barreling down the stairs, squealing as she runs towards the captain, who catches her effortlessly, twirls her around.
“I can’t believe it took you so long to come visit,” the woman, Yeji, Minho assumes, breathes into the captain’s hair before she pulls back, holding her at arm’s length so she can look her over. Then she gives the captain a playful glare.
“I wrote?” The captain offers, sheepishly, and Yeji rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips.
“Don’t even believe for a second that we didn’t hear about it every time you were in Nassau and didn’t make your way out here.”
The captain’s face falls, an unfamiliar shadow of uncertainty and embarrassment in her eyes. In another world, Minho has the ability to reach out, wipe the sadness from her beautiful face. In this one, he just watches, his face schooled into a cool neutrality. Jisung next to him fidgets with a ring.
“I … I couldn’t …” she starts, but trails off, dropping her gaze to the floor, “I never had the time, either we didn’t stay long enough or I couldn’t get away from the ship. I promise, I …”
Yeji shuts her up by pulling her into another hug.
“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you. All that matters is that you’re here now. Why don’t we take a look at whatever that is in your bag. But before that …”
She turns to Minho and Jisung, sending them a bright smile. Minho likes her better, she doesn’t give him the creeps.
“My name’s Yeji, I’m Ryujin’s wife. Half of our love story wouldn’t have been possible without Y/N actually, so we’re always happy to see her.
“Hardly,” the captain interjects, “you only talked a stranger’s ear off about this really cute clairvoyant girl you wanted to go see until said stranger took pity on you and went with you.”
Clairvoyant? That would explain why she’s so creepy.
Yeji sticks her tongue at the captain. Minho tries to imagine a younger captain, her expression less schooled, her gait less confident, her hair maybe longer, her eyes brighter, in a bar, all by herself. He wonders if he would remember if he met her then. Wonders if he would’ve had the courage to go up to her, to strike up a conversation. Wonders if they would’ve even gotten along. His heart wants to say yes.
“Well, if you hadn’t been there that night, I would’ve never gotten the courage to go see her. And then we wouldn’t have exchanged names, and we wouldn’t be here today. But enough about us,” she laughs, and turns back to the two men, “you are?”
Minho bows, tries to smile at Yeji, but it’s hard. He’s not good at this.
“Lee Minho, the captain’s second-in-command.”
Yeji greets him, a gentle smile on her lips, before she turns to Jisung. Jisung’s face is flushed, whether because of the frankly ridiculous heat in the room or because he’s still nervous, Minho doesn’t know. He bows, too, but when he rises, he sends Yeji such a disarming, crooked smile that Minho gets annoyed. Of course, he would make a better first impression.
“H- Jisung, my name’s Jisung, I joined the captain’s crew recently.”
Ryujin suddenly gasps.
“Oh, that’s interesting!”
Minho can’t help the scowl on his face when he looks over at her. Yeji turns around, but the captain intercepts the situation.
“Jisung is Han Yujun’s nephew. We found him on one of his uncle’s ships, and he wanted to join us.”
Yeji’s eyes narrow. She lets her eyes drag up and down Jisung’s form.
Jisung straightens up, his nervous hands twisting together in front of him. One of his knuckles cracks and Minho wants to reach out, still those cursed, restless hands. Jisung wearing his heart on his sleeve drives him fucking crazy. It would get him killed one day.
“They saved me, really,” Jisung offers with a much weaker smile now, “my uncle has always hated me, tried to get me killed on foolhardy missions. And I hate him, for what he did to me, for what he does to everyone else under his governance. I want him gone.”
Yeji throws a glance at Ryujin, waits until the latter has stared at Jisung for another few seconds and gives some kind of nod of approval. Once she does, Yeji relaxes.
“Well, an enemy of Han Yujun’s, whatever shape he may take, is a friend of ours. Welcome, you two.”
“That’s actually what we need your help with, Yeji,” the captain begins. Carefully, she pulls the two maps from her satchel, walks over to the table in the middle of what most likely is meant to be the dining room, but is really only another densely packed living room, and unrolls them.
“These are maps we intercepted on Han Yujun’s ships. One on the one Jisung was on, another on one that attacked us a few weeks later. At first, we thought they were maps, but geographically, they make … no sense. So we figured, they’re …”
“A code,” Yeji breathes out, her eyes fixed on the maps as if she’s magnetised to them. She takes them from the captain’s hands, and arranges them on the table, pulling a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer.
“Exactly,” the captain breathes out. She watches Yeji carefully, throws a glance to Ryujin, whose eyes are impassive, “and with how intricate the maps are, how carefully drawn, the fact that the edges are gilded – it all speaks to the fact that Han Yujun was trying to impress someone.”
Yeji runs a finger over the tangled up shapes around the edge of the map, scribbles something down.
“If you can even just help us find out who that is, we would already get us further than we have in years. But if we can find out what these messages say, there’s no telling what we might be able to do.”
Minho can hear it, the tremor in the captain’s voice. Ever since he can remember, all the petty criminals they fought, the crews of wayward pirates who went against the code, who violated everything humanity stood for, the end goal had always been Han Yujun, the man who had ruined more lives than they could count.
“Gilded edges,” Ryujin mumbles, and shakes her head.
Jisung steps up to the table, though he still looks nervous, half his body hiding behind the captain’s.
“My uncle always tried to impress the other governors of these islands,” Jisung says, a hand running through his shaggy hair restlessly. When the captain turns to him, his ears tint pink, “throwing lavish dinners he couldn’t afford, forcing himself into jewelled waistcoats that he barely managed to button up. It was pitiful, most of the other governors hated his guts.”
Ryujin frowns, but chuckles drily.
“Not like they’re any better.”
Jisung shrugs.
“Some of them were better than others, but none of them were worse than my uncle. Most of them caught onto him pretty fast, only visited once, twice at most, before it dawned on them what a piece of shit he was. Avoided him like the plague afterwards, …”
Ryujin hums. There’s a faraway look in Jisung’s eyes, and he buries his fists in his pockets. The captain slides a comforting arm around Jisung’s shoulders, gives him a little squeeze. Jisung leans into the touch, gives her a shy smile, bats his eyelashes at her. Minho wants to shove Han Jisung into the ocean.
“Well, sounds like we’d be doing more people a favour by putting your uncle behind bars,” the captain jokes and Jisung laughs. There’s a familiarity between them that makes Minho’s stomach churn.
“You’d be doing everyone a favour,” Jisung sighs, and rolls his eyes, his head tipping in her direction just enough that he can blink at her cheekily, making the captain breathe out a light little laugh that Jisung drinks in greedily.
Scratch that. Minho wants to drown Han Jisung with his bare fucking hands.
But he stays where he is, aching, wanting to be anywhere but here and yet nowhere else but by her side. Nausea rises in his throat. If only it wasn’t so fucking hot in this room, he thinks, as a bead of sweat drips down his neck.
Yeji is still scowling at the paper, scribbling furiously, and Ryujin sighs.
“She’ll be busy with that for a while, why don’t you help me make some tea, Y/N?”
The captain nods, throws Minho a glance that he hopes he returns with some semblance of normalcy, though there’s no telling any more, and follows Ryujin into another room.
“I’ll wait outside,” Minho announces into the silence as soon as she’s gone. His voice sounds odd and out of place in the room, and he turns around before he is forced to reckon with an answer.
Minho knows that the air outside is technically hot, humid, and hot, but compared to the sweltering heat of the little hut, the breeze blowing over his sweaty neck actually makes him shiver. Letting his eyes rove over the small garden, he spots a small metal bench, tucked into a little spot against a hedge that borders the rickety fence. He takes a few steps towards it, eyes it carefully to make sure it can actually hold him. But it looks sturdy enough. He sinks down, and he lets his head fall into his hands. He takes a deep breath. It comes out shaky.
He hates being back here. He fucking hates Nassau with all his heart. For everything it did to him, everything it took from him. He hates even more who he becomes when he’s here, all jittery and quick to anger, his heart like an open wound in his chest. He feels strung out, bared to the elements, to anyone who looks to close. He doesn’t want them to, doesn’t know what he’ll do if they do.
His mother never liked it either. She would tell him all about it, all those nights they spent huddled together on the dilapidated porch of their home – tell him how any day now she would finally have enough money to hitch them a ride on a ship to go … somewhere else. She always said it was going to be a surprise, but adult Minho knows better – she never had a plan, her only urge was to just get as far away from Nassau as possible.
Away from her history, away from the little churchyard where her parents lay buried, and where she would be buried not long after, away from the creditors, away from the pimp who, as Minho found out many years later, blackmailed her into staying with him by threatening to expose who Minho’s father was.
Minho took care of them all, one by one, over the years. Found the men who had driven his mother onto the path that would eventually lead to her death. He made sure they knew why he was killing them before he did. He made it painful, he made it cruel. Wiped out their confidants, their secretaries, anyone who could take up their mantle.
In retrospect, he knows that something wasn’t right with him back then. But when it was done, when every last one of them was taken care of and Minho finally knew he did all he could, he felt free. Black and dead, but free. And still so lonely it took his breath away sometimes.
He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars, feels pinpricks of pain in his eyeballs. He hears the door of the hut open, the thud of boots coming down the path, then stop. When he looks up, he makes eye contact with Han Jisung. Minho sighs.
“There’s really no escaping you, huh,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Jisung, but he can’t help but notice how Jisung’s face falls, before he sets his eyebrows, tosses his head and walks over to Minho.
Minho watches him calmly as he approaches and sits down next to him, the little metal bench squeaking under the extra weight.
Somewhere in the distance, a gull cackles. Minho’s knuckle cracks where he squeezes his hand into a fist.
“I mean … It was really awkward in there, yes, but I actually, …” Jisung starts, stares at Minho before he blinks, and averts his eyes, gaze falling to his hands that are folded in his lap. He starts fiddling with his rings again. Minho squeezes his fist tighter. His knuckles crack again.
“I actually wanted to apologise,” Jisung finally says, and Minho’s thoughts grind to a screeching halt. He blinks at Jisung, who’s still not looking at him.
“I wanted to apologise for … for kissing you.”
The last words come out in barely more than a whisper. He chuckles awkwardly. He twists one ring so hard is hand slips.
“I mean, if I’m honest, it kinda rocked my world, but I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have just … done that. Not after saying what I did. Which I’m also sorry for, by the way. I was talking to Chan, and … let’s just say I know now that you wouldn’t have called me by my abuser’s nickname if you’d known. Not you.”
Minho’s still frozen in place, his heart thundering in his chest. He wants to say many things. Wants to ask what on earth he meant when he said it rocked his world. Wants to ask what Chan told him, why they were talking about him. In the end, he settles for none of that.
“I’m not the most observant,” he mumbles and Jisung chuckles. It’s a light little thing, as light as the breeze that makes more goosebumps shiver down Minho’s spine.
“I mean, you are,” Jisung hums, looks up at Minho and smiles. Minho barely dares to breathe. “It just depends on who you’re watching. I know one person you look at more than anyone else.”
Something painful curls in Minho’s guts. The memory of Jisung’s skin, of his lips, of how he had run back to her, thrown himself into her body, trying to make it up to her, trying to forget the guilt – but most of all trying to forget the fact that there was no reason to feel guilty because she wasn’t his, he wasn’t hers, she, for all he knew, could’ve done lord knows what with lord knows who, and he may have never known. Even when he couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t see any point in anyone else as long as she …
Minho doesn’t answer Jisung. Just averts his gaze, stares across the garden at a tall Jasmine bush, focuses on the little white flowers, the scent of them in the air. Jisung next to him is quiet, too. Less fidgety, though Minho knows he probably wants an answer that Minho can’t give him. Better to get used to the disappointment early, Minho thinks.
Suddenly, there’s a commotion inside the little hut, a triumphant cheer, then a yell of the captain’s name. Minho is on his feet before he can even think, Jisung hot on his heels as he hurries back inside.
When he opens the door, the captain lifts her head, makes eye contact with him and Minho knows.
They got him.
“He’s trying to get out from under the crown,” she laughs out, Yeji next to her has a triumphant smile on her lips. Ryujin is leaning over the captain’s shoulder, reading Yeji’s notes. But the captain is staring at him.
“He’s trying to sell the territory to the Spanish, pocketing the money before turning around and staging a coup and making them independent. And he’s trying to recruit other governors to do the same, to maximise their chances, their gains. This is …”
“High treason,” Minho breathes out. “High fucking treason.”
The captain nods, and then her lips stretch into the biggest smile and Minho takes a hesitant step forward before he stops again. He’s itching to take her into his arms, to wrap her legs around his waist, twirl her around, kiss her breathless, feel her smile against his lips. But he stops himself, watches as she blinks at him, her pretty, ringed hands twitching around the paper, her mouth opening like she wants to say something. There’s a shadow that crosses her face. But Minho can’t have that, he needs her to feel this, the culmination of all her work, all her sacrifices over the years.
So he smiles at her, makes his way over, stepping up to the side of her that Ryujin readily concedes to him, leans some of his chest against her arm.
He reads.
HYJ to NT. Planned date of sale to SP 20 May 16––. Matthew Town.Independence when agreed capital is made over to us and defence against crown secured. Pray confirm.
Then underneath it.
HYJ to LD. Planned date of sale to SP 20 May 16––. Making over of San Salvador from NT September 16–– in exchange for defence against crown + NT head. Pray confirm.
“Double timing, bastard,” he mumbles, and the captain snorts out a laugh.
“I doubt he could swing this, maybe we should just let it play out.”
Minho scoffs, grasps the opportunity to turn to her, closing the gap between their bodies enough so he can let his hand rest softly on her lower back where nobody can see. He scrapes his nails over the fabric of her shirt, watches her eyes glimmer.
“I’m not taking any chances with this piece of shit. I’d sail across the entire ocean and hand-deliver him to that old hag, the queen if it meant I could see him hang.”
Yeji snorts, and he gives her a dark smirk. He really does like her. Ryujin next to her, has her eyes fixed on where Minho’s hand is still ghosting over the captain’s back. She couldn’t possibly see, so how … He’s distracted by Yeji turning abruptly to Jisung, who was still lingering by the door, a little ways away from the group of them. He looks lost, only hesitantly steps closer. The captain wordlessly hands him the translated note. He reads. Hums.
“What’s up with you?” Yeji asks, and there’s an edge to her tone. “Changed your mind? Suddenly feeling the need to defend your dear uncle? Run off to tell him that we have him cornered?”
Jisung scoffs, and sends her a glare, the first unkind thing he’s done in this house so far, and it strikes Minho how unusual it feels.
“As if,” he mumbles. Then he takes a deep breath and points at the paper.
“LD stands for Lord Dunmore, he is one of the few governors who didn’t immediately run as soon as my uncle showed his true colours. I think he might actually like him, which should tell you everything you need to know. It doesn’t surprise me that he would be the one hired to off Nicholas Trott, or NT. Now, …”
Jisung points lower, gives them a look.
“Trott, on the other hand, he’s the governor of San Salvador. Tall, skinny man. A son and a daughter and a penchant for gardening and whores. Has been turning a blind eye to the drug business being run from his harbour because they cut him in. He’s a piece of shit, but he would probably help us. I know where he lives.”
Yeji huffs out a laugh.
“Guess I underestimated you.”
Jisung just shrugs, throws the captain an uncertain look, his eyes barely brushing Minho where he’s still glued to her side. He doesn’t look as triumphant as he should.
In the distance, the town’s clocktower strikes, and the captain throws a glance out the window, at the slowly setting sun. She takes a step away from Minho. Minho’s hand falls uselessly by his side, and he misses her touch already.
She smiles at her two friends.
“We need to get back, tell the crew about what we found, and probably celebrate,” she says, “You’re welcome to join us, if you want, since … we couldn’t have done it without you.”
Ryujin smiles at her, but shakes her head.
“We don’t really go into town after dark, especially not the bars, but thank you.”
Yeji grins.
“When you get him? Make it painful.”
When the captain says goodbye at the door, Yeji hugs her for a long time.
“Make sure to come visit us again soon, okay? No more coming to Nassau without making the trip out here,” she tells the captain, cups her face, before Ryujin takes her place. She looks troubled.
“Be careful out there, Y/Nie,” she mumbles, “good luck. You’ll need it.”
She pulls the captain into a hug, staring at Minho across her shoulder. She whispers something Minho can’t hear in the captain’s ear before she pulls back.
They make their way through the overgrown garden, out the rickety gate, back onto the dirt road into town. Minho claims his rightful place next to the captain, talks to her about the maps, the code, how they should approach this. Jisung trails behind them, quietly.
The sun is setting, the last rays of sunlight slipping through the palm trees as you make your way down the Main Street after dropping the satchel with the maps and the codes off in your triple locked quarters.
You hear your crew before you can even possibly see them. Their discordant but gleeful singing ringing through the open windows of a small, dark tavern. Light is pouring out of the windows, the door wide open to create some airflow in the sticky hot night.
Jisung behind you is still quiet, avoids your eyes when you turn to him. It’s a weird quiet, one that you don’t like, not from him. Jisung, who usually wears either a petulant little pout or a bright little smile or that steadfast determination that makes him square his shoulders, grow a size taller in stature, an almost dangerous glint in his eyes … No, this Jisung is none of that. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, his eyes sad, feet shuffling across the sandy street in his pretty leather boots that are slowly scuffing into something much less refined and much more recognisable and fitting for ship life. But he avoids your eyes when you try to catch them, so you leave him be. There will be time later.
Minho walks into the tavern first, and you hear everyone greet him with a cheer – but it’s nothing compared to the sound when you appear behind him. The whole room erupts into excited yells, Hyunjin squeals and bounds over to you, taking Jisung hostage from behind you and dragging him over to a table where Seungmin and Jeongin seem to be in the middle of an intense card game. Chan hollers for rum to be poured for the three of you, and you can’t help but laugh when Felix comes up to you, gently pulls you into their midst, pushing a glass of rum into your hand.
You don't go on land with them often, especially not at night and especially not to go drinking. Not because you didn’t trust your crew, per se, but you didn’t trust … men. Crowds of rowdy, drunk men. And while you were pretty sure you had around 30 men who would jump to your defence at a moment’s notice, you knew it would only cause a scene, ruin their night, maybe even get them kicked out of a tavern. It wasn’t worth it. Plus, with the possibility of enemy crews or government spies around, it was borderline impossible for you to relax enough to even consider having more than a few drinks, anyway.
But here, now, in this tavern with what you realise is pretty much only your flushed, happy, singing crew, except for a few scattered, lonely locals, with Han Yujun’s death sentence stowed away in your office? You feel as invincible as you’re ever going to feel.
Felix guides you to the table in the middle before he sits down, looks at you expectantly. A hush falls over the room.
“So?” he asks, his voice tinged with a beautiful shimmer of hope.
You turn around, find Minho still standing by the door, a drink in his hand, his eyes on you already. He smiles softly. A part of you wishes he could be right next to you. It feels as much like his victory as it does yours. You swallow down the urge to beckon him over.
Over Felix’s shoulder you make eye contact with Jisung. He smiles at you, small but oh so sweet, and then you look back at Felix, who is nervously shifting in his seat. You try to play it cool, you really do, but the giddiness that rises in your chest, the elation that you didn’t show earlier, the sheer tidal wave of hope that Yeji’s scribbled words let loose in your heart – a smile spreads over your face before you can stop it.
You watch Felix process it for a second before his whole face lights up, and he half gets out of his chair.
“Do we have him?”
It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You nod.
“High fucking treason.”
The roar that goes through the room is deafening. Cheers, laughs, screams of delight filling the tavern. You think there are tears in Felix’ eyes when he gets up, rounds the table, and pulls you into a hug. And before you know it, you’re surrounded, warm bodies crowding around you until you’re caught in between what you think is your entire crew, still cheering and laughing and congratulating you, praising you for finally bringing him down. You try to answer, try to thank them, tell them it’s not done yet, but there is no room for argument, only their exuberant joy. You surrender to it.
Someone hugs you this way, someone else tugs you that way, and you lose your footing, stumble over someone’s boot, and you briefly wonder if you’re about to fall when a strong hand wraps around your hips, keeps you upright, pulls you closer protectively until you’re finally stable on your feet again, chest to chest with your saviour. When you raise your head, Jisung’s face is mere inches away from yours. You can feel the little breath that drips from his plump, slightly parted lips, could reach out to touch the little mole on his cheek. You watch his eyes flicker down, down to where you’re pressed against him, then to your lips for only a whisper of a second before coming back to stare into your eyes. His eyes are big, dark, beautiful, and so gentle, understanding, and you feel so … safe.
He opens his mouth, splays his palm, runs it the barest hint higher, sending sparks through your body; he’s about to say something, when you hear Minho’s voice cut through the commotion. Jisung lets go of you like he’s been burnt, sending you almost tumbling into whoever is standing behind you. It hurts, the loss of his warmth like a physical ache, but watching him hug his hands close to his chest, pretty face folding in on itself in sadness, is so much worse. Your heart aches, fingertips aching to reach out for him, take his face into your hands, smooth his lips back into a smile.
“Okay, everyone, make some space, you can’t kill our captain before she has a chance to kill the guy.”
And with that, Minho pushes through the crowd, that immediately thins around you. Jisung stumbles away from you as fast as he can, but then Minho is behind you, brings a gentle hand to your waist, just where Jisung’s just was, and turns you around. You blink up at him, and he scowls with worry, searching your face.
“Are you okay?”
He looks concerned, slightly flushed, but nothing else. Could it really be that he didn’t see …? When you don’t answer, he grips you tighter, gives you a careful once-over. You shake your head quickly.
“I’m fine, just … overwhelmed,” you breathe out. At least that’s not a lie.
“Should’ve saved you from these animals earlier,” he grumbles, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Now let’s get you another drink. I think we deserve to celebrate tonight.”
And celebrate you do.
One glass of rum turns into two, then three. You lose Minho at some point, and then he’s back, and you think you’re probably staring, letting your eyes drag over his shoulders, his sparkling eyes and high cheekbones for longer than is acceptable. He doesn’t comment, only looks back at you, an intensity in his gaze that is usually reserved for when he presses his lips against yours in your office with the threat of Chan barging in at any moment.
But he doesn’t leave your side any more. His dark eyes on yours as you float through the tavern, friendly faces cheering you on, clapping you on the back, murmuring low words of thanks and congratulations, as if Han Yujun was already behind bars.
You say this to Seungmin when you plop down next to him, and he just smiles at you.
“They know you. You’re our captain, you don’t lose. And now that you’re so close? There’s nothing that could keep you from taking him down. There’s just no other option.”
You almost blush, give Seungmin a pained grimace that makes him laugh happily.
“Sorry, I won’t get sappy on you,” he reassures you, and you box him in the arm lightly.
“You better not. You’re meant to be the least sappy out of all of us.”
You get swept up by someone else, and Seungmin lets you go with a little wave.
At some point, the barkeep unearths bottles of a shimmering green liquid from underneath the bar, calls it Absinthe, calls it the green fairy that will make all your worries float away. And you drink that, too, along with everyone else, just a little bit – but it turns out a little bit is more than enough.
Because it’s strong. And not strong in the same way the rum is, no, strong in the sense that it makes your world go fuzzy around the edges.
You lose sight of Minho, though you’re caught by Felix again, getting pulled into the midst of your crew. The absinthe makes the room sing, your crew scattered, laughing, drinking, singing their songs to their heart’s content, surprisingly melodic, harmonious, like it’s what they’ve always done. Your soul soars somewhere above you, through the steam and the wooden rafters, brushing past the oil lamps on the walls, fills and aches when you realise how many times you’ve heard this, from the distance, sat in your office while they were celebrating below deck.
And that one night, when Minho hadn’t gone ashore. When he had found you, barefoot, tipsy, doors and windows cast open to let in the salty breeze. When he had taken you upstairs, had kissed you for the first time under the starlight, your world exploding into fragments of light with every hot, sweet press of his lips, his touches like the first ones you’ve ever felt, a purity in the way your body unfolded for him, folded him into you and never let him go since.
Minho. You can feel him next to you again, his solid shoulder right next to yours, his hand, always so strong, yet soft, resting on his own leg when it’s meant to be resting on yours. But you’re in public. You try to distract yourself, look out into the room, at your crew having the time of their life, but nothing wants to focus except fragments; Like the freckles on Felix’s cheeks when he laughs, the way Changbin’s cheeks are flushed with the glow of alcohol, Jeongin’s laugh from somewhere to your left.
And then Jisung pops into your vision, slides onto the bench on your other side, his mouth moving. Somehow, you manage to focus, and you hear him, deep voice like dripping molasses down your spine.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his brows furrowed in concern. But you smile, watch as relief rearranges his features into something beautiful.
You let out a shaky breath, one you can’t account for with any good reason. Distantly, you feel Minho’s hand finally make its way to its home on your knee, but you can’t look away from the man in front of you. His eyes are unfocused, his pouty lips slightly parted, but he’s looking at you, staring back into your eyes again, just like earlier. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, trying to push it back, but it falls right back into his face, brushes against his cheeks, his eyelashes fanning over the skin. It looks so impossibly soft.
You remember Ryujin’s words in the kitchen earlier, when you were making tea, when you watched Jisung and Minho through the window; the tension in Jisung’s shoulders, the unguarded confusion, shame, want in Minho’s eyes. You don’t have to worry. Just let it happen.
A drop of sweat runs down Jisung’s temple, and you follow it with your eyes. Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out, catching it with a gentle fingertip. Jisung trembles, a choked sigh falling from his lips as he leans forward, almost entranced. You can feel his breath fan over your face, herbal notes from the absinthe and something quintessentially Jisung and you want to lean in, want to know if his lips will be sweet like the ripe peaches that seem to have served as inspiration when they created him, whether the skin of his collarbone will taste like the burnt honey that looks like it’s dripping off him when he sweats.
Somewhere in the back of your head, reason prevails, and you stop yourself from leaning in further, but Jisung doesn’t, his face unreadable as he lets a gentle hand rest on your arm, sliding up until it wraps gently around the side of your neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles over your pulse. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat thundering just under the thin veil of your skin. The metal of his rings is cool against into your skin, and you wonder if they would leave marks, if the squeezed closer, wonder if he would squeeze hard enough for the marks to still be visible tomorrow …
Suddenly, Minho’s warm chest slides against your back, hot and grounding, and you can’t help it when your head falls back against his. The need you’ve been carrying around, the vague desire that’s been haunting you when you were alone in your bed or your bath or Minho was already asleep next to you – it makes you unable to resist the sweet, hazy drag of their hands.
When you blink your eyes open, you see Jisung staring at Minho, hazy eyes trained on his lips, and Minho behind you chokes on air.
“Jisung, …” he mumbles. It’s meant to sound like a warning, and it does, too, but somewhere laced in there, you hear his fear. You’re too far gone to figure out what he’s afraid of.
Jisung’s free hand reaches over and slides up Minho’s thigh. Gently, wanting. Something clicks into place when he looks from you to Minho, and back.
“Let me … please,” he whispers, his shimmering eyes swimming with want.
“I want you …”
< chapter VI - chapter VIII (coming: friday, april 26, 3pm CET) >
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🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter VI
pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung
summary: minho seeks out the captain. chan has a word with jisung. jisung learns more about minho and the captain finally figures out the maps
word count: 8.3k
warnings: unprotected sex; sub!minho; slapping; degradation; overstimulation; undernegotiated kink (but everyone's enjoying it); mentions of a past of sex work and minor sexual assault; asexuality
author's note: finally we see the aftermath of jisung and minho's little moment 👀 plus some plot that will become more and more relevant now as we progress in the story. and asexual rep because it's so dear to me 🖤🩶🤍💜 ily all, happy reading and thank you for all the love!!
this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI
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< chapter V - chapter VII (coming: friday, april 19, 3pm CET) >
“I saw Minho and Jisung kiss. Downstairs. Outside of the baths.”
“What?” It’s barely a breath. It’s all you can manage. Something dark and ugly twists in your guts. The kraken stirs dangerously.
“Captain, I …”
“Chan, are you sure? I need you to be sure.”
Chan grimaces.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes out. He looks it, too.
You nod. There’s a ringing in your ears.
“Thank you for telling me,” you say, forcing a smile onto your lips before you turn around and let yourself into your office. You close the door behind you quietly, carefully, before you lift your trembling hands up in front of you. You look at them for a second until they become blurry with the sob rising in your throat, and you curse, shake yourself roughly. You blink away the tears, clench and unclench your fists until your bones start aching. When you lift your hands again, they’re no longer shaking.
But your chest still feels like it’s about to cave in, and it takes every ounce of your self-restraint to not let your shaking knees give out.
Jisung and Minho. Jisung and Minho. Jisung and Minho? It makes so little sense to you. Minho hated the guy … unless …
There are footsteps outside your office, and you straighten out immediately, automatically, school your face into neutrality. You hear a hurried ‘leave’ before your door flies open and reveals a pale, desperate Minho. His hair is wet, dripping onto his shirt that looks haphazardly thrown on. The baths, you think, quietly. Then what is he doing here?
Minho closes the door behind him, turns the key in the lock, stalks over. His eyes race over your face, something hunted in his expression when he cups your face, stares down at you.
“Please tell me you don’t have any appointments in the next two hours,” he mumbles, and you just about manage to shake your head. His hot hands drag down the sides of your neck heavily, full of purpose. He breathes out a shaky sigh.
“Good. I need you,” he whispers and with that, he leans in, presses his lips against yours, his tongue wet and uncoordinated and desperate when he pushes past your lips, and it makes red-hot arousal rush through your body.
He’s here. He’s kissing you, saying he needs you. Not Jisung.
Something like hope knocks against your ribs, but you don’t encourage it. Instead, you pull Minho closer against you and feel his rock-hard length press against you. He ruts his hips forward minutely, almost subconsciously.
Minho keens, drags his hand into your hair and pulls you closer, angles your head so he can kiss you deeper, filthier, and it makes wet desperation pool between your legs, a whimper catch in your throat.
“Fuck,” Minho pants against your lips, “fucking … fuck, just take me, use me.”
The request isn’t new, but the urgency with which he says it, the guilt in his eyes as he stares at you, those are. So it was true. He did kiss Jisung. And this was his way of making amends. Jealousy crackles through your veins like wildfire, makes the breath catch in your throat as you trail your hand down to his bulge. Is he hard for you or for the man he professedly hates?
You grab the length of his cock through the fabric, squeeze meanly, a little too hard for comfort, but Minho’s jaw falls open, a wanton moan tumbling from his pretty lips.
“Bed, now,” you order, and shove at his shoulders roughly. He goes willingly, his eyes hooded as he watches you shrug off your coat, pull the shirt over your head, leaving you bare to his hungry eyes. He nearly bumps into the doorframe when he tries to take his own shirt off while walking backwards, and you laugh. His cheeks flush a dark, beautiful red, the hunger in his eyes deepening.
You wind your hands around the back of his neck and shove him onto the bed, climbing onto it after him, and his hands are greedy when they pull you close, hot skin against hot skin, chest against chest. He kisses you again, wetly, desperately, entirely ridiculously, but you let him, let him lavish his need on you until you can feel it in your bones, while you finger the buttons of his pants open and slip a hand into his pants. When your fingers curl around his hot, velvety cock, his hips twitch underneath you and a wave of satisfaction rips through you.
But before he can get much release, you pull your hand back and he whimpers. You get up enough to pull his pants and underwear down, ignoring the tortured gasp he lets out when his cock slaps against his abdomen wetly. You rid yourself of the rest of your clothes, relishing in the way Minho’s eyes rake all over your body, his cock leaking where it lies just from the look of you.
He grabs at your hands, pulls you up, closer and closer until his hot palms can reach your thighs, dragging you until you’re straddling his face. He stares up at you through his lashes, pupils blown, hair an ungodly mess. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He’s meant to be yours.
“Captain,” he whimpers and drags you down, forces you to sit on his face. His moan rivals yours when his tongue drags over your cunt, spreads his spit around until all you can feel is wet and hot, and it’s so overwhelming, your hand shooting out to hold on to the headboard of your bed. When he flicks his tongue against your clit your nails dig into the wood, and he groans out, tongue dipping down, lapping at your hole like he’s starved.
“Oh fuck,” he mumbles into you before there’s a lewd squelch when he sucks your clit into his mouth, “so fucking good. Oh fuck.” And he keeps going, so fucking messy, lapping and sucking and moaning shamelessly until your thighs are shaking. He drags his tongue down, pulls you up so he can slip it right into you, pressing in deeper than you have ever felt it, and it feels so mind-numbingly good it makes you whimper. Your hips start rocking almost subconsciously, and Minho groans, grabs your hips hard and helps you, guides you along as you grind yourself over his face, filthy moans tumbling from your lips as you shamelessly do as he asked and take, take, take until you can barely breathe out a warning before you cum, creaming onto Minho’s eager tongue, who laps up everything, his hips jumping up desperately.
You try to catch your breath, but it’s hard when you turn around and see Minho’s achingly hard cock entirely wet with precum, lying in a pool of it against his hard abdomen.
You shuffle down his body on your shaky legs, straddle his hips, trap his length between his own body wet belly and the wetness of your cunt. His face is still glistening with you when he moans out, his hands coming to your thighs to hold on, but you grab them, shove them into the pillows above his head, holding him in place as you grind down and set a torturous pace that has his toes curling, and his eyelids flutter beautifully. You lean down, lap your tongue over his lips, and he moans filthily, hips bucking up into you searching for friction. But you don’t give him more than a few careful grinds of your hips as you clean his face with your tongue. When you finally kiss him, he’s a mess, his tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth, trying to chase your touch.
You take a second to look at him like this, your confident Minho, lips swollen and glistening, strong arms that have wrestled so many enemies into submission stretched above his head, broad chest heaving with ragged breaths, love bites from when he had railed you into the mattress days ago still visible on his collarbones– Had Jisung seen them? Had Jisung seen the evidence of you on Minho’s body and decided to kiss him anyway? Maybe because of it …
Your hands tighten on Minho’s wrists and his eyes widen.
“What am I gonna do with you, hm?” you ask and Minho mewls weakly.
“Please,” he whispers, followed by a pretty moan when you grind against him again.
“Please what?”
He shakes his head. The desperation is still in his eyes, though the guilt is gone. He looks … fucked out. Like the only thing on his mind is you. Good. You want to make him fall apart, make him cum until he can’t think of anything, any_one_ but you. Not honeyed, pretty Jisung. Only you.
You’re already aching for more, the overstimulation making way for the dull burn of arousal and without a warning, you lift your hips, reach between you to line him up with your thoroughly soaked heat and sink down. It’s a stretch, as always, and it stings slightly, but you take him, sensitive walls moulding around him like he’s meant to be there, buried to the hilt and filling you so perfectly a shiver racks down your spine.
Minho moans out, loudly and dirtily. His hips twitch against his will when your walls flutter around him, but his hands stay obediently crossed above his head.
“Good boy,” you whisper, and Minho’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He nods weakly, eagerly.
You lift up yourself up, rolling your hips just how you know he likes it, and Minho keens again, letting out a guttural groan when you sink down with a swivel of your hips.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he slurs, and the sound of it drives you mad, the kraken in your chest sending poison into your bloodstream. You pull your hand back and crack it across his face in a resounding slap. Minho’s head lolls to the side, and he stares up at you wide-eyed.
“That’s captain to you,” you hiss and drag your hips down harder. Minho’s back arches.
“Fuck … again,” he slurs out, and you hesitate only for a fraction of a second, before you do as he says. You slap his other cheek now, and he growls out, his hips bucking up to meet you, picking up the pace until you’re bouncing on him hard. He’s already throbbing inside of you, and you briefly wonder if he will really cum that quickly.
“Captain, hhngg …” he tries to speak, his hands coming to your thighs, scrambling for purchase as he plants his feet and starts fucking up into you. You barely manage to catch yourself next to his face, but it doesn’t stop you from grabbing his face meanly, digging your fingertips into his jaw.
“Who allowed you to do that? Can’t even follow your captain’s orders, hm?”
Minho blinks up at you, and you know without words what he wants. You pull back your hand and crack it across his face again. And before you know what’s happening, Minho pulls out of you, and then he’s cumming, eyes rolling back in his head as he reaches between you, tugging at his cock a few times, hot white spurting all over his abdomen in erratic ropes.
You watch in awe before the poison settles a thought into your mind. What if this wasn’t you? What if he was thinking about Jisung.
“I’m sorry,” Minho slurs underneath you. His eyes are almost crossed. “That was just so … oh my fucking god!”
The noise that rips out of him when you sink back down on his still mostly hard cock is guttural and foreign. His dazed eyes fly open, his mouth parting with a strangled moan.
You set an agonising pace, fucking yourself down on him hard, and his hands scramble for purchase in the sheets.
“N-no, ’s too much,” he complains, but his back arches prettily, his cock twitching where it’s buried deep inside of you, and you know he loves it. So you plant your feet, pick up your pace.
“Captain, captain, oh fuck,” Minho all but yells when your cunt clenches around him, “it’s s-so sensitive, h-hurts.”
He’s a vision, his legs spread wide underneath you, his eyes screwed shut, breaths coming in ragged pants, his voice shot from them. You want to eat him up. You lean forward, force him to look at you, still rolling your hips. You’re so full of him, and you can feel your own orgasm pull tight in your abdomen.
“Who’s making you feel like this?” you ask, and you wonder if he can hear it, the green monster of jealousy that has your heart in a cold vice grip.
“You, captain,” he babbles, his eyes slightly crossed as he weakly fucks his hips up. There are tears glittering in his pretty eyes and you want to see them fall. You wrap one hand around his throat, press the other into his chest for leverage and let your body take over, riding him like your life depends on it. He groans so loudly, you can only hope Chan really did leave when Minho told him to.
“Say it again,” you whisper, your voice barely there as you struggle to keep your own eyes open at the onslaught of pleasure. You’re so … so close.
Minho wracks out a weak sob, one, two tears falling from his eyes as his whole body twitches in oversensitivity. The bed creaks with every desperate swivel of your hips.
“You, captain, you, only you, I’m yours, I’m yours, only yours, Y/N …” It’s all it takes to drive you over the edge, your head thrown back in a silent scream, hips twitching erratically as you fuck yourself through your orgasm.
“P-please, you need to m-move, I can’t … hold …”
He tries to shove you off, tears still running down his cheeks, but the kraken has fed on the poisonous jealousy, and you want to be his just as badly as you needed him to tell you he was yours. So you shake your head, ignore your own oversensitivity and grind yourself down harder until Minho sobs, arches his back and whimpers out a choked moan.
“Oh, god, captain, Y/N, I’m … I’m c-cumming,” he nearly yells, and then he does, buries himself as deep as he can inside of you as he fills you, blindingly hot and sticky and all-consuming, pumping you full of his seed until you can feel it, searing hot, dripping out of you and into his pubic hair.
When his orgasm has subsided, he stares up at you, blinking the haze from his eyes, tear-tracks still wet on his high cheekbones. He wordlessly tugs you closer, and you collapse into his waiting arms, a gaping emptiness where your heart should be. Letting a finger run over one of the scars on his chest, you take a deep breath. He feathers kisses into your hair, to the shell of your ear, so tender it makes you want to cry.
Slowly, carefully, he shifts your body off him and pulls out, his eyes glued to where his release is dripping out of you. He swallows drily, whispers a breathless fuck as he sits up more, parts your legs gently.
“You fool, you should’ve let me pull out,” he whispers, though he doesn’t look regretful when he drags a finger through your folds, gently pushes it into where you’re still leaking. You shudder out a gasp, and he laughs, light, disbelievingly.
When he removes his finger and leans over you to press a soft kiss to your lips, his gaze so impossibly soft it makes your chest ache.
“I’ll run us a bath.”
You don’t doze off this time, your head too full of it all to be able to relax, too full of everything you’ve done, of the guilty, hunted look in Minho’s eyes. Jisung’s face enters your consciousness, unbidden, his wide eyes, long lashes fanning over his cheeks, the way his eyebrows furrow so prettily when he’s determined, the golden skin stretching over his broad shoulders, down to his small, pretty waist. Your heart convulses with something you don’t understand, something like desire, desire to have him. That part isn’t new, you felt it the other day when he looked at you, his adoring gaze fluttering to your lips for only a split second before he forced himself to step back, an adorable dusting of pink on his soft cheeks. But now you can’t help but wonder if Minho had him, if he was small and pliant and pretty underneath Minho’s solid body. Your eyes flutter shut with a deep sigh, an insistent pulsing between your legs with every thought of Jisung’s pink, slick lips against yours, against Minho’s, wrapping around …
You’re ripped out of your thoughts by Minho returning, picking you up gently and carrying you into the bath, just like any other day. The turmoil inside of you is too loud to mistake it for any other day.
When you’re settled in his arms, he pulls you in, claims your lips, kisses you lazily, deeply, until his fingers dip between your legs, pull another earth-shattering orgasm from you that you moan into his swollen, bitten lips, before he cleans you with soft hands and even softer kisses. Selfishly, maybe stupidly, it all feels like he loves you.
You hold on to that when he leaves you an hour later to check on the ship.
Jisung doesn’t know what he expected after his dick had hijacked his body and kissed Minho in the hallway outside the baths before Minho had kissed him so utterly stupid he hadn’t known left from right for a solid 10 minutes afterwards, his brain a muddle of arousal and worry.
But he didn’t expect things to go … right back to how they were. Or not entirely how they were – instead of glowering at him, Minho now … ignores him entirely. Jisung might as well be air because Minho barely even throws him a glance, doesn’t react if Jisung asks a question at dinner, makes it a point to never end up in a situation where we would have to give any kind of orders to Jisung, letting Hyunjin or Chan take care of it instead.
And speaking of Chan … Jisung had a really bad feeling that the man somehow caught wind of what happened between him and Minho, though how on earth he would have, Jisung doesn’t know. But ever since that day, Chan has been what Jisung can only describe as odd. Avoiding Jisung’s eyes at mealtimes, even when Felix talks about Jisung, awkward smiles when he passes him in the hallway, eyes flicking from him to Minho warily whenever Minho enters the room. When he finally confronts Jisung a few days after Jisung’s ill-fated split second decision, it’s almost a relief. Jisung’s already on edge enough about Minho, worrying about Chan and what he knows made him so jumpy it even caught Felix’s attention the other day.
Chan pulls him aside on the deck about a week after, looking around nervously as he drags Jisung to the bow of the ship, where they can talk without being overheard. He still throws wary glances over his shoulder every now and again, and it makes Jisung even more antsy, his leg jumping nervously.
“Jisung,” he starts, clears his throat. “We need to talk.” He runs his hand through his messy curls – finally looks at Jisung. The look on his face is more than serious, so much so that Jisung can’t stand to even reciprocate. He drops his eyes, focuses on the tips of his boots, scuffs one into the wood underneath him.
“I … I saw you the other day. With Minho.”
Chan waits, but Jisung doesn’t respond. What would he even say?! He focuses on trying to will his heartbeat back into his chest where it belongs. Chan sighs. He sounds defeated.
“I don’t usually get involved with … that kind of stuff, which also explains why I’m so bad at this,” he motions between them vaguely. He knows what Chan will say and a part of him, one that he hasn’t allowed himself to look at too closely, doesn’t want to hear it. Plus, it’s not like he knows what’s going on between him and Minho anything, except a whole lot of regret and, well, nothing.
Chan huffs out a nervous laugh, but there’s no smile in it. Jisung swallows hard.
“You have to know, right? You have to know about Minho and the captain?” Chan finally bursts out and Jisung prays, he doesn’t want him to answer. But clearly he does, Chan saying his name quietly, but insistently, forcing Jisung to finally lift his head and meet his distraught gaze. Jisung takes a deep breath.
“I mean … I’ve heard the rumours,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears colouring, “I didn’t know anything for sure.”
Chan furrows his brows, keeps staring at Jisung like he’s trying to figure out if he’s lying. But technically, Jisung isn’t lying, he reminds himself, a little guiltily. Very guiltily.
“Well,” Chan finally says, “I guess we don’t know anything for sure either, but … Jisung, the captain and Minho have something going on. And so far, it seems to have been pretty exclusive, as far as the crew is concerned …”
Jisung nods stupidly over the dull sense of disappointment blooming in his chest. Across the ship, the wooden doors that lead below deck open. Jisung watches over Chan’s shoulder as Jeongin steps out first, followed by the captain. The sea wind whips at her hair, pushing the wide linen pants she’s wearing against her body until Jisung can see the entire outline of one of her legs, an image so sinful it burns itself into his brain. A loud, unguarded laugh falls from her sweet, soft lips, her eyes little crescents of joy as she laughs at whoever is coming up from below deck next …
Jisung isn’t even surprised when it’s Minho, but it still hurts. And God, Minho looks pretty, too, the toothy grin he’s giving the captain lighting up his whole face, making his eyebrows scrunch together and up adorably. Something in Jisung’s chest aches.
“Are you even listening to me?” Chan exclaims, and when Jisung blinks back at him, he furrows his brows and turns, follows his gaze, straight to where the captain and Minho are still talking to Jeongin.
Minho’s arms are crossed behind his back, but his body hovers so close to the captain that his arm brushes her back every time she moves. For all intents and purposes, he’s simply … watching her speak. But there is something so private, so reverent in his gaze that Jisung can’t help but feel like he isn’t meant to see, isn’t meant to watch as intently as he is. But he doesn’t look away, can’t look away. Chan next to him whips back around, his eyebrows drawn together in dismay.
“Okay, listen, I’m going to just say it. We need them. We need our captain, and we need Minho, and if something comes between them, I don’t know what our crew will do. And you can’t jeopardise that. You can’t break them up, do you understand?”
Jisung’s head is swimming. Minho leans into the captain, murmurs something to her, his eyes dragging down the side of her neck with hooded eyes. Her hand flexes where it’s hanging by her side. Minho smiles. And among the chaos, Jisung is suddenly hit with one thing in mind-blowing clarity.
“I don’t want to break them up …” he mumbles and Chan freezes, stares at him, before he laughs in disbelief.
“Jisung …” he huffs out, his voice so full of pity it makes Jisung nauseous. He’s starting to feel about as insane as Chan looks at him like he is, and he can feel his cheeks turning a bright red.
“I know, I know,” he mutters, tries to laugh it off, but it’s brittle. “I won’t … do anything. Not again. That time, it was an accident, okay? I didn’t think. We were having an emotionally charged conversation and it just … happened.”
Jisung takes a deep breath, a weary smile on his burning face. “And you don’t have to worry, he’s been ignoring me like the plague since. So there is no risk of any of that happening again.”
Chan stares at him, but says nothing, so Jisung takes the opportunity to flee.
“I appreciate you talking to me about this, Chan. Message received. Hands off Minho. But you also have nothing to worry about, he clearly doesn’t … it doesn’t matter.”
He stalks off, running a nervous hand through his hair as he makes his way past Minho, Jeongin and the captain, ignoring the way he can see both Minho and the captain turn their heads as he all but runs past and below deck. He takes refuge with Felix in the cool kitchen, gratefully taking the potato peeler the younger wordlessly hands him to distract himself. But the shame keeps burning, settled deep into his guts. He’s ashamed of the way Chan spoke to him, about what he said, but he’s also ashamed of the fact that he even kissed Minho in the first place, even though deep down he knew the captain and Minho were … together? ‘A thing’? Jisung nearly slips on the potato and slices his thumb open when he realises that he’s still thinking in technicalities. He shouldn’t, he should accept that what he’s doing is wrong, but … is it really so wrong when he wants them both?
He avoids Chan at dinner, making sure he has an impenetrable barrier of Hyunjin and Seungmin between them, and flees the room as soon as he’s done eating under the guise of helping Felix clean up. If Felix notices, he mercifully doesn’t say anything, makes his usual idle chit-chat with him, gives Jisung space.
When night has well and truly fallen and the kitchen is spotless, Jisung think he’s safe, thinks he’ll be able to slip through the common area and straight into his cabin, maybe read some more of the book he picked up if he can find another candle stub – but his hopes are dashed when he leaves the kitchen with Felix, and they find Hyunjin, Chan and a few other pirates sprawled over cushions and blankets, lounging in one corner of the living area, bottles of rum and glasses scattered between them, laughing and chatting.
Jisung does a double take when he sees Hyunjin casually lounging in between Chan’s spread legs, his back against Chan’s chest. He makes eye contact with a blushing Chan, and he fully plans to just keep walking and go to sleep, but Felix seems to have other plans. He grabs Jisung’s hand and drags him over to them.
“Hey, Lix, hi, Jisungie” Hyunjin hums out, his face flushed, arms draped over Chan’s thighs casually, intimately. He ignored Jisung’s questioning glance. “Join us, we’ve been getting sappy and desperately need some distraction.”
Felix giggles as he plots down, pats Hyunjin’s leg affectionately.
“Drinking always makes you sappy, Hyune.”
Jisung gingerly sits between Felix and another pirate, San, he thinks, who he’s barely spoken to. He feels nervous and stiff, not at all like he belongs in this circle of half drunken pirates. It’s a feeling that has been lessening over the last few weeks, but every now, and again it comes back with a vengeance. He forces himself to take a deep breath.
“It does, but it’s just … I mean, can you believe we all ended up on this ship? How lucky is that?” Hyunjin sighs, his head lolling against Chan’s chest. Chan smiles down at him, amused. Hyunjin giggles, sits up enough to grab his cup, lifting it to the ceiling. “To the captain! To our little family!”
Everyone chuckles at Hyunjin but they lift their cups nonetheless. Jisung lets San pour him a drink, gives him a shy smile, and then he raises his glass, too. They all repeat it after Hyunjin, voices warm and Hyunjin’s louder than all of them, almost singing the words, and chug the alcohol. The rum stings Jisung’s throat but the warmth of it eases some of the anxiety fluttering in his chest. Next to him, Felix hums happily and licks his lips.
“I’ll drink to that today because guess what? Minho actually apologised to me this morning!”
Jisung’s head whips over to Felix, who seems to avoid his eyes. He’d been in the kitchen with Felix for hours, chatting about lord knows what while they were making dinner and then again cleaning afterwards, and Felix had not said a single word about it.
San next to Jisung makes a sound that sounds like a duh.
“I knew it was just a matter of time. He can’t stay mad at you for long, Yongbok.”
Felix grimaces.
“Well, this time I was considering staying mad at him.” Jooyeon next to San, and San give him a questioning look. Chan fidgets nervously, making Hyunjin look up at him in confusion.
Felix sighs.
“He told me he hated me. That you should’ve left me there.”
Hyunjin gasps, sits up, his eyes wide as he stares at Felix.
“He didn’t! Why didn’t you tell me?!” he hisses, pretty face pulled into a scowl. He looks like he’s ready to get up and give Minho an earful, but Felix places a calming hand on his calf, gives him a reassuring smile.
“Because I also said some really fucked up stuff about him and …” Felix explains but falters, and Jisung thinks he can see his eyes flicker in his direction. What the hell is going on?! “… and to be honest, I know he didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t have left me there.”
Hyunjin shakes his head and leans back against Chan, who winds an arm around his waist.
There’s a moment of silence and Jisung decides to bite the bullet.
“Where’s there?” he asks, shyly.
Suddenly, all eyes are on him. Hyunjin blinks at Felix, who just smiles at Jisung kindly.
“I … I spent a lot of years working … uhh … as a prostitute,” Felix first hesitates, then rushes the words out as if he can’t get them out fast enough. His cheeks flush, but there’s a resolute pride in his face, like he’s still actively fighting his own shame. Jisung recognises it. He knows how it feels.
“I worked in Nassau’s most notorious whorehouse, and it was fine for a long time, but then the ownership changed, and the new owner was a drunk and the later it got and the drunker he got, the more likely it became that he forgot to charge his patrons. Word got out, and the clientele got worse and worse and the pay … well, soon there wasn’t much to go around any more.”
Jisung stares at Felix, tries to reconcile what he knows about those kinds of establishments, the ones his uncle always told him to go to loosen up, to stop being so uptight, God, Jisung. He tries to imagine Felix in that setting, all smoke, and rum and dirty sheets, dressed up in smoky make-up and skimpy dresses. He finds the last part of that the easiest to picture. Felix is pretty, after all, though his heart seems much too pure for that kind of work.
“Well, long story short, a stranger tried to force himself on me one night, very violently, and the boss looked on, forbade any of the others from helping me, slurring something about paying customers,” Felix adds with a sour, cynical smile. “The captain heard me scream, shoved her way into the house and into my room, dragged the vile man off me. It was pretty obvious how bad the conditions were in that brothel, so she helped me dress, took me outside and offered me a place on her crew, in a position of my choosing, no sex work of any kind, while Minho … dealt with the guy.”
Chan chuckles darkly, and Jisung swallows.
“Dealt with him …?” he repeats quietly, and San next to him nods. There’s a wide-eyed fascination and an abject fear in his eyes.
“Killed him, probably ripped him limb from limb or watched him bleed out in the gutter or something gruesome,” San explains, voice low and conspiratorial, “Minho doesn’t fuck with rapists and abusers. He gets kinda scary when he’s faced with one.”
Jisung’s heart beats uncomfortably in his chest.
“Do you know why?” he asks, quietly. This time it’s Chan who answers.
“None of us know for sure, he’s only shared snippets with us over the years. But I’m pretty sure he lost his mother to one when he was very young. She was the last person he had. Had to bury her with his own hands, dug the hole in the churchyard and everything. I think he was like 12.”
The rum congeals into something sickly and awful in Jisung’s stomach, and he thinks he may actually be sick. San, next to him, is blissfully unaware, turns to Jooyeon and launches into a story about a bar fight he and Minho got involved in months ago because someone came onto a female barkeep, but Jisung can’t care. He stares at Chan, who watches his pale face worriedly.
“So he wouldn’t make fun of someone by calling them their … abuser’s pet name? On purpose?”
His question is quiet enough that it doesn’t interrupt San, but loud enough for Chan, Felix and Hyunjin to hear. Chan’s eyes widen, then he looks serious. He shakes his head vehemently.
“Never, not Minho.”
Jisung nods. Swallows down the bile.
“Jisung, are you okay?” Hyunjin asks softly, and Jisung shakes himself, forces a weak smile onto his lips, waves them off.
“Yeah, I just kinda … accused him of doing that … to me,” he says quietly. Felix next to him hums sympathetically, wraps an arm tightly around his shoulders.
“You couldn’t have known,” he reassures him, “plus, it’s Minho, I’m sure he said some mean stuff, too.”
He had, but still. Jisung basically insinuated that he thought Minho would … hurt him. No wonder he’d looked like Jisung slapped him. But he doesn’t want to unpack that, not with all those other pirates here, drinking, trying to have fun. So he just nods, leans into Felix’s hug for a second before he reaches for the bottle, refills his and Felix’s cups. He lifts his.
“To the captain!” he says shyly, his insides doing a sickening swoop, “to … our little family!”
Hyunjin squeals, claps, surges forward to envelop Jisung in a hug, toppling him onto his back, nearly knocking the cup out of his hand and spilling his rum everywhere. He places a wet smack on Jisung’s cheek before he gets up, raises his own glass.
“To the captain! To Jisung! To us!”
But even when the conversation has moved on, Jisung can’t stop thinking about it. Not just what he said to Minho, how Minho had reacted. He tries to imagine Felix, in a whorehouse, the captain saving him, Minho defending him.
The sheer history of this crew he has joined hits him like a ton of bricks. Each of them has a different story, a different reason for being here, a different life they left behind. Jisung feels ashamed about the fact that he had barely thought about it until now. He just never even thought of it … everyone just seemed so at home, so entirely settled, dedicated to the captain, the crew.
When they’re back in their cabin, he and Felix chat while they get ready for bed, and Jisung tries, but he doesn’t find the courage to ask the question he really wants to ask until they’re both in their respective cots, nothing but the moonlight and the sound of waves breaking against the ship coming through the darkness.
"Felix?” he asks into the silence.
Felix chuckles quietly, hums. He’s used to this by now. Jisung’s overactive mind coming up with something right as he’s trying to drift off. Jisung’s cheeks are burning.
“You don’t have to answer this,” he prefaces, carefully, “but … what was it like? To … you know … be a … to do that kind work … back in Nassau?”
Felix is quiet for a second and Jisung wants to take it back, scared he has managed to upset him.
“It was … fine. I’m … wow, where do I even start,” Felix trails off with a tired laugh.
“Sorry,” Jisung mumbles, “forget I said anything, you don’t have to …”
“No, no, Ji, it’s okay,” he reassures him. Jisung hears him shift in the sheets, the cot creaking as he turns onto his back.
“I … I never really cared about having sex with people,” he says, quietly, “still don’t, maybe even less now, what with all the memories, but …”
He takes a deep breath to steady himself.
“To me, bodies are just … bodies. I don’t see a dick and get hard, I don’t see boobs and want to automatically touch them. I’m just not … wired like that. I don’t know why. I think I could want someone, if I loved them, truly loved them and trusted them, but … that hasn’t happened yet.”
Jisung tries to wrap his head around it, but he finds it difficult. He’s usually horny, and stupidly affected by attractive people.
“That doesn’t answer your question, but it’s important to know because it’s what drove me to the job,” Felix continues, “I didn’t have any other skills, and people always wanted me like that and I … didn’t have the best sense of self-preservation. It made decent money before it all went to shit, and my body could just … go on autopilot, do what bodies do. It never made me feel bad about it because I wasn’t doing it with anyone else anyway.”
“So you’ve never had sex with anyone because you wanted it?” Jisung asks quietly.
“Nope,” Felix says, popping the p loudly. “Never really wanted to.”
“Huh,” Jisung breathes out.
“I can’t see your face so you really need to tell me if you think it’s weird,” Felix mumbles nervously, “it’s not something I just parade around and tell everyone. I know I’m different from others and I … hate it sometimes.”
Jisung shakes his head vehemently before he realises Felix can’t see him.
“Oh, shit, sorry, no, no, no, I don’t think it’s weird,” he says, quickly, “honestly, I kind of get it. When I have sex with people I have feelings for it’s just … so much better than when it’s just someone random.”
He flushes.
“Not that I fall in love often. Or sleep with random people very often. I’m not that extroverted, and, really, it’s also not very hygienic.”
Felix laughs out loud at that.
“Oh, let me assure you, people are even more unhygienic than you could even imagine.”
Jisung scrunches up his nose and mumbles out a quiet gross that makes Felix laugh harder. Then he gets quiet.
“What’s it like to sleep with someone you like?” he asks quietly, and Jisung sighs, tries to think of that one time with the girl he had a crush on when he was younger.
“It’s … like little fireworks. All the touches mean so much because it’s like … like you’re getting to know the other person on this whole new level. It’s also awkward … and it can be … not very good, with all the expectations, but in general … it feels good. Makes you feel seen, known. Which is also scary as hell ...”
Felix hums.
“That sounds kinda nice.”
“It is … though even then, it’s just sex. Your body goes crazy, and then you come and then it’s over. Don’t feel like you’re missing out on too much.”
“If you say so,” he mumbles, “by the way, Jisung. Can you please, like … not tell anyone about this? I don’t really go around, talking about it.I’ve only told Hyunjin, and it was so awkward while he was trying to get used to the idea. And the captain knows, of course, but nobody else does. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
Jisung blinks into the darkness.
“Of course I won’t tell anyone, Lix … What did the captain say?” he asks, tries to sound nonchalant.
“She was great about it. It was right when I joined. She asked lots of questions, also about what I wanted my life to be like. I told her I never wanted to have to have sex ever again, and she just laughed and gave me a hug, told me that that was the easiest promise she ever made. I see now why she laughed, but back then I really thought that was a big ask. I was really messed up then.”
Jisung hums. It sounds like her. Soft and welcoming and understanding and so, so strong, for all of them.
“I won’t tell anyone, Lix,” he says again, with as much conviction as he can muster. “Thanks for telling me. For trusting me.”
“Always,” Felix replies, seemingly casual, but Jisung can hear the smile in his voice. “Now let’s go to sleep. I gotta get up early, we’re out of bread.”
Jisung whispers a good night and cuddles into the sheets, thinks and thinks and thinks and when he finally falls asleep, he dreams of soft skin against his, rosemary and salt water, his lips on planes of soft, damp skin, a hitch of breath that sounds just like you.
It’s been 8 days since Chan told you what he saw and 8 days since Minho had begged you to take him apart. 8 days of waiting for the ball to drop – but nothing happened. Yes, Minho had barely left your side for the last few days, but in the grand scheme of things, that was more reassuring than anything, and you didn’t have time to worry about it too much because – you’re stressed. You’re exactly one day out from Nassau, two days behind schedule because of the weather, there has been no sighting of any government ships for days (a suspicious fact) and you still haven’t gotten anywhere with those stupid fucking maps.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter to yourself, pushing yourself away from your desk where the same goddamn maps that you’ve been staring at for weeks are still lying. You get up suddenly, the scrape of your chair against the floor jarringly loud in the room. You walk up to the windows behind your desk, rest your forehead against the cool glass, let it soothe the frustration burning behind your eyes. The sea beyond the glass is inky black. It’s night already, dinner long gone. Minho had brought you a serving hours ago, set it down on your desk and left you to your own devices with a promise to check on you later.
You take a deep breath, hold it for second. If you’re very still like that, you can hear everyone in the common area downstairs, singing, chattering, laughing. Carefree in a way that makes your heart ache.
But not you. You have a mission. A fight to win. For yourself, and for them. You force yourself up again, pouring yourself another cup of rum and downing it. The burn helps, feels purifying, clears your mind before you face the maps on your desk.
A deep breath.
Then you start again.
“It looks like a map at first glance, but everything about it feels wrong,” Seungmin had mumbled, an uncharacteristically deep crease between his usually unperturbed brows, arms crossed over his chest, “like, look, these islands are shaped like islands, but they don’t have any names. There’s a compass in the corner, but it’s so small that it looks like an afterthought. It doesn’t even make sense with the scale. And don’t get me started on the mountains and the woods on the islands – geographically? They make no sense. Not even to mention the gilded edges. Who does that to a normal map? So, it’s like they’re maps, but not maps at all.”
It’s like they’re maps, but not maps at all.
You slam back another cup of rum. The world starts getting a little fuzzy, but it feels nice. Takes the edge off.
“It’s like they’re maps, but not maps at all,” you mumble into the silence of the room.
“But whatever they are, they were important enough to warrant hand delivery. By someone on Jisung’s ship, but not Jisung himself. So something he shouldn’t know about …”
You let yourself fall into your chair, head tipping back until you’re staring at the ceiling, dark wood and carved edges. Someone downstairs cheers loudly. You crack your neck.
“Why should Jisung not know about it?” you mumble to yourself. “He wouldn’t have known what the maps were about … but if he had figured it out … why would it have been bad? Would he have … told someone? Disapproved?”
That thought process ends in a dead end, and you loop back around to the beginning.
“Important enough to warrant hand delivery. With an entire ship to protect it. 20 men. Hand-drawn, gilded, illustrated edges … gilded edges?”
You sit up abruptly, pull the map you found on Jisung’s ship closer.
“Gilded edges … The governor would be wealthy, but not that wealthy. Maybe he has something to prove?”
Your eyes drag over the intricately drawn pattern around the edge of the map and …
Wait, those symbols don’t … follow a pattern.
You lean closer and sure enough, the symbols were clearly drawn to resemble a pattern, but as soon as you look closer it’s obvious that they don’t.
You stare at your desk blankly, pull the other map towards you. With shaking hands, you place the two maps next to each other and … You let out a yelp. One of the islands repeats. So do the formations of mountains, of trees, of waves.
“It’s like they’re not maps at all!” you yell and shoot to your feet. You grab the maps, not even bothering to fold them before you bolt out the door.
You bound down the wooden stairs with a clatter of heavy boots and a yell of Jisung’s name.
By the time you rush into the living area, everyone is staring at you. Jisung clearly just got up. He’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at you wide-eyed, pretty pink petal lips parted in surprise. You run towards him, waving the maps in the air triumphantly.
“They’re not maps, they’re coded messages!” you yell with a maniacal laugh, “we’re about to fucking get your uncle.”
Jisung looks shocked, relieved, in utter disbelief.
You jump into his arms before you can tell your rum-addled brain to stop, winding your arms around his neck with a jubilant laugh. He huffs out in surprise, but he responds immediately, his arms slipping around your waist, picking up your momentum and twirling you around. He’s warm against you, smells of honey and pine, the skin of his neck is soft against your cheek and his arms around you are strong and when he sets you down it takes everything in your power to pull back, to let go, to pretend like your fingertips aren’t aching to touch him more, like you’re not panicking about doing that in front of everyone. In front of Minho. You can feel his eyes glued to you from somewhere across the room, but you ignore him, turn away from him, from the bashful look of confusion on Jisung’s face, instead turning to Seungmin and Hyunjin and the rest of your crew crowding around you. Seungmin grabs the maps from your hands and stares at them in disbelief.
“Son of a–“ he mumbles. Hyunjin, who’s peeking over his shoulder looks at you and asks the question you knew would come, one that popped into your head the second you figured it out.
“So … do we know how to decode it?”
You shake your head, but your smile doesn’t fade. Another giddy chuckle falls from your lips.
“Nope. But I know someone we can trust who will. And she’s in Nassau.”
“We’ll get answers tomorrow!” Hyunjin cheers, and you nod, and then he, too, pulls you into a hug, one you reciprocate happily. Hyunjin hugging you dilutes the meaning of you running into Jisung’s arms, which you know is good, in the eyes of the crew. Less incriminating. But something in you aches at the thought. Over Hyunjin’s shoulder, your gaze brushes against Jisung’s, and he’s still staring at you, his lips slightly parted, his tongue peeking out. And then he smiles, big and heart-shaped, and it’s like your world lights up. You don’t try to control the smile it pulls from you in return.
This could be it. This could be the key to the puzzle you’ve been missing all this time. This could mean that you’re finally, after all these years, able to take down Han Yujun. Han Yujun, the most corrupt governor on all the islands. Cruelty, starvation, forced eviction, razing of entire lower income neighbourhoods, corruption, and crime and gangs and human trafficking – his methods were many, but his results always the same. More money in his pockets that you knew neither the people nor the crown never saw (not that you cared much for them), and death and misery for everyone else.
More than half your crew were victims of his corruption, forced out of their houses, relatives killed, unplayable loans that forced them into crime or got them captured and locked away, to be found and adopted by you, given a chance again, given a family. A life. Their stories, all of which you’ve heard over the years, horrific, painful. One more heartbreaking than the other. You’ve been picking up the pieces of devastation Han Yujun has left behind for years, watching him run his island and all the neighbouring ones into the ground, destroying nature and people and culture alike.
But now you have a chance.
Because whatever was on those maps was important.
You couldn’t wait to watch Han Yujun burn.
< chapter V - chapter VII (coming: friday, april 19, 3pm CET) >
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the bucket list ✘ [thirteen]
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summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.
pairing: han jisung x afab!reader
genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, fluff, angst, comfort, eventual smut.
general warnings: tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, mentions of death in later chapters.
word count: 5.5k
chapter content: bittersweet. everything is bitter sweet. extremely brief mention of deceased loved ones. mc and jisung go to an aquarium! angst hidden behind fluff! Conversation about fate/destiny, inyeong.
You move slowly as you start to repack your luggage for the trip back home. You’re a little tired from the dinner party last night which is why you’re taking your time with the task, but in reality it’s because the whole thing is kind of saddening. As you place your clothes in your packing cubes, you set aside the clothes you plan to wear on the plane tomorrow morning.
Jisung knocks on the doorframe, peeking his head in. “Need any help?”
You give him a small chuckle, looking up at him from your spot in the middle of the floor. “You don’t have to knock, it’s your room.”
Jisung enters the room and sits on his bed, moving aside the clothes you laid out. “Well, what if you were indecent or something?” The tiniest smirk plays at his lips, finding his own joke oh-so-hilarious.
With a deadpan stare, you playfully ball up a shirt and throw it at him, “Oh, like you haven’t seen me naked before.”
Jisung laughs and catches the shirt, folding it neatly and setting it aside soon after. “How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know,” Your eyes drift back to your suitcase and your hands go back to folding items to pack. “I mean, I do know. I don’t wanna go back home.” You chuckle sadly, shrugging your shoulders in defeat.
Jisung looks at you with a small smile on his lips. He doesn’t want you to go home either; he wants to say, ‘then don’t’, but he doesn’t need to. You know that's what he wants to say, and you both know that he can’t say it. Instead, he leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees, bringing himself closer to you. “Well, you’re still here, so let’s not waste it, yeah?”
You match his smile and nod your head, placing your hands in your lap. “Okay, yeah. Can we…” You pause and think about your bucket list. When you remember a specific to-do list item, your smile wides and you release a small giggle. “Can we find a fountain to make a wish at?”
“Yes, let's make a date of it.” Jisung places his hands on his thighs, bracing himself as he pushes himself off the bed. He takes a step towards your sitting form and extends both hands to you, palms up.
You place your hands in his with a large smile on your face, eyes soft as you look up at him. Your head had been swimming in circles, thinking about your flight home, leaving Korea behind, leaving Jisung behind, but now, you’re relieved, choosing to only worry and think about today, not the flight home tomorrow morning.
“So,” You pause your speech to squeeze Jisung’s hand, fingers laced with yours. The date was planned loosely, both of you decided to take advantage of the beautiful day, opting to set aside the car for a nice walk.
You wore a flowy white midi-skirt with a slightly oversized graphic white tee-shirt, tied to be cropped and cinched at your waist. Your hair up in a messy bun with a claw clip, a canvas tote bag hanging on your shoulder carrying not only your essentials, but a light brown knit cardigan just in case it got cold in the evening.
Jisung wore an open, unbuttoned khaki collared shirt, a loose white tee underneath, with black linen slacks, cuffed at the ankles. A simple casio watch on his wrist, a silver ring on his index finger, and a small pendant-free chain around his neck. Both of you had on some white old beaten up sneakers, deciding to err on the side of comfort for the last day.
“So?” Jisung starts to swing your linked hands together, looking at you with a gummy bright smile.
“Where are we going?” You both come to a stop at the corner of the street, a small crowd of people joining you to wait for the pedestrian light.
“Well, after food, I wanted to take you to the aquarium,” Jisung shrugs nonchalantly, as if there was no pressure into the situation. You, however, knew how much Jisung loved animals through the little facts he would sprinkle into your conversations, the books on his shelf about animals, the small wolf figurine on his desk. Maybe it didn’t mean much to him, but you were thankful that he was willing to share this time and hobby with you.
When you and Jisung finish at a small Japanese restaurant, you quickly find that this place was one of his favorite places to visit. The owner knew him by name and not only did Jisung have a regular order that the waitress knew by heart, but even gave the both of you the opportunity to try out an off the menu item that they were working on. Needless to say, you both left with full stomachs and happy grins on your faces.
“Do you take all of your lady friends there, Jisung?” You rest your hand on your full and round stomach, savoring the Japanese curry bowl you had.
Jisung laughs and gives you a raised brow, “What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
You eye him with a playful smile, “Well, seemed like they were really talking you up in there.”
Jisung laughs louder, taking a step close to you and nudging your shoulder gently. “Maybe because I’m just a nice customer!”
“M’hmm,” You link your arm with Jisung’s, letting him lead you to your next destination. You’re not sure what comes over you, maybe it’s a slight bit of hypothetical jealousy thinking about the possibility of Jisung bringing his past love interests to the places he’s shown you. “Have you had a lot of girlfriends?”
Jisung chuckles, rolling his eyes while he looks ahead. “No. Not at all.”
You almost scoff, “You don’t have to lie, Ji.”
“I’m not lying. I know I seem like it, but I don’t actually have the best luck in the dating department.” Jisung bites the inside of his cheek, a little ashamed.
“What? Really?” That was hard for you to believe, especially since from what Jisung has shown you, he’s been an extremely sweet, smooth, empathetic person. There’s no way people weren’t waiting in line to date him.
“Yeah,” He pauses, lips forming a thin line as he tries his best to explain, “A lot of the flirting is just surface level. You tell them what a person wants to hear, inflate their ego a little bit.”
You swat at his arm gently.
He laughs and rubs at the sore spot dramatically. “But I don’t usually connect with people beyond that. Sharing feelings, holding hands, kissing… It all makes me nervous. I start to get in my head.”
”You don’t seem to have any problems doing that stuff with me.”
“Well,” Jisung unlinks your arms and instead, holds your hand, bringing the inside of your wrist up to his lips for a chaste yet sweet kiss, “That’s because you’re different.”
You try to fight the blush that forms on your cheeks; the bubbly feeling in the pit of your stomach that slowly climbs up into your lungs to make you feel like you’re floating on air. You know what that feeling is and you know that feeling isn't productive, not when you’ll be on a plane home tomorrow morning.
In an attempt to change the subject, you look around to find that you were in front of a convenience store with little machines for kids to either win or buy toys from. You pointed at one specifically, filled with small plastic containers with red caps on them, little prizes or toys inside. “Look, Ji. I used to bother my mom for money to get a ring from these vending machines when I was younger.”
You crouch down, balancing yourself on the balls of your foot, trying to get a better look at the toys inside.
Jisung watches over you with a smile on his lips. He shoves his hand in his pocket, finding some loose change from the lunch you shared. Crouching next to you, he places a coin into the slot, hand on the knob. He’s about to turn it, but pauses to look at you, “Which one do you want?”
You reposition yourself multiple times, trying to get a real good look at the variety of rings. There are a couple of heart shaped ones, mostly in pink or red, the usual ones that mimic large oval and teardrop shaped diamonds and gemstones, but there are also fun ones in the shape of stars and shells, even a rainbow. Then, you point at one in particular. “I really like that one!”
Jisung looks at it and nods, “Okay, here’s hoping that’s the one we get.” With a turn of the knob and a cranking sound, the coin disappears and out of the machine comes a plastic capsule. Jisung maneuvers both himself and his hands to cover up the ring inside, causing you to laugh and shake his shoulders gently. Dramatically, Jisung gasps, taking a peek at the toy ring.
“What? Which one did you get!”
You watch Jisung’s face drop, his brows furrowing, creating a crease on his forehead. He frowns, lips in a tight line. “Show me, Ji!” You don’t really care if it was the one you wanted, all of the rings were really cute, you just wanted to know which one he got.
Playfully, you poke at his side, trying to get him to turn around to show you. He tsks at you which makes you a little upset. You stand up and cross your arms, tapping your foot. “Han Jisung!”
Jisung laughs and rolls his eyes at your impatience. He turns around to face you, this time on one knee. He laughs nervously, taking the ring in his hand, showing it to you. “Y/N, Marry me?”
“W–what?” You’re completely taken aback. The confusion on your face is so apparent that Jisung’s nervous laugh turns into a full grown fit, laughing from his chest with his head thrown back. Your palms start to sweat as he continues to laugh, you uncross your arms and subconsciously, you rub your hands on the front of your skirt.
With a shrug of his shoulders, he sticks his hand out with the ring towards you. “Seungmin said we should get married so you could stay in Korea with us.”
‘Me’, he means. He wants you to stay with him. Staying with Seungmin and the rest of them was just a fun addition.
“And it's the ring you wanted, so.. Maybe it’s a sign.”
You finally look at the ring and it is the ring you were hoping to get. It was a plastic light blue gem in the shape of a bear, the cuts in it making it shine brilliantly as if it were made from a real gem stone. In the center around its neck was a small chrome pink ribbon.
Jisung holds his hand out towards you and you place your left hand in his, allowing him to slip the ring on to your ring finger. He struggles gliding it on and you laugh together when it is sufficiently stuck on the knuckle. Jisung takes it off your finger and resizes it, pulling apart the shiny plastic ring ever so slightly. “Good thing these are adjustable.” He slips it back on to your finger and it's a perfect fit.
You admire the adorable little ring on your hand, smiling to yourself at how ridiculous it all was while Jisung stands back up from his knee, dusting himself off. Your eyes dart back to the stand of toy vending machines, looking for a ring for him as well. “I got to get you one, too!”
Jisung raises a brow, “No you don’t. Men don’t get engagement rings.”
You scan the different machines, getting a good look of the different toys inside. Some had stickers, others had toy cars and little baby figurines. When you find one, you point at it, turning to Jisung behind you, “You’re telling me you don’t want this really cool dinosaur ring?”
Jisung quickly goes to the machine you’re at, looking over the options. He nods his head once, as if this is the most serious matter to him. “Okay. You’ve won me over. I want an engagement ring, too.”
You laugh and hold out your hand to him, looking for another coin. Jisung’s eyes go wide, appalled. “I’m paying for my engagement ring?”
“Do you want the dinosaur ring or not?”
With a melodramatic huff, Jisung shoves his hand in his pocket and takes out a coin, placing it in your open palm. You put the coin into the machine and crank the knob,a clicking-like sound coming from the machine until the ring comes out. You uncap the small plastic capsule and show him the ring inside, a large green squishy dinosaur with a long neck and tail on a plastic metal adjustable ring. “It’s a brontosaurus!”
Jisung laughs at you and takes the ring, placing it on his finger. “It’s actually not a brontosaurus.”
You take his hand as he shows it to you, staring at the dinosaur. “It’s not?”
With a shake of his head, he adjusts the ring so that the green dinosaur sits straight, “Those don’t technically exist. Well, they exist, but that’s not what they’re called. They’re called Apatosauruses.”
When Jisung flips his hand over in the air so that his palm faces downward towards the ground, fingers stretched out, you bring your hand up to his, placing your palms together. Easily, Jisung closes his fingers around your hand and leads you forward. With a beaming smile, you look up at him, squirting your eyes a little in curiosity, “Jisung, tell me; were you a dinosaur boy growing up?”
“Oh yes, absolutely. Definitely more dinosaurs than cars.”
After a bit of walking, you find yourselves in a busier area, shops and fun cafe’s lining the wider street. One in particular captures your eye. “Jisung, you know how couples have photoshoots?”
Jisung nods his eyes, taking his phone out to look at the directions to the aquarium again. “Yeah, they’re kinda’ corny, to be honest.”
“Oh,” You try to fight the pout forming on your lips.
When Jisung looks up from his phone, he notices the change in your mood, eyebrows shooting up in panic. “I – I mean, they’re not something I would do normally! I just feel super awkward taking photos, that’s all.”
“Well,” You tug his hand and his attention towards the photobooth studio down the street, “Would you at least humor me for today?”
“For you?” Jisung leads the way to the shop, “Anything.” He laughs a little as you make your way through the doors, “And it’s only a photo booth. We’ve done this before, I thought you were going to make me stand in front of someone with a camera!”
You laugh at his ramblings, imagining how nervous and awkward Jisung would be in front of a professional camera. Inside, you’re elated as Jisung talks to the worker. Looking around, you notice that everything is pretty self-serving. There were a couple of very large photo booths with a plain backdrop and shelves and buckets filled with accessories.
When Jisung comes back, he guides you to the booth all the way in the back. You slip in with him behind the light blue curtain and you quickly scan through the different templates and frames of the picture strips. Jisung stops you at a certain one, “What about ‘2Gether 4 Ever’?”
You look up to find that Jisung’s head is hovering right over your shoulder and the proximity is both comfortable and nerve-racking; comfortable because at this point in your… whatever-it-was with Jisung, his whole presence is something you seek, something you expect – never too far away –, but nerve-racking, because it felt like today, every single word, every movement, gesture, moment, is hanging over your heads, everything was comicotragic.
Is the universe playing a sick prank on you?
So much for focusing on just today. You couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t escape tomorrow.
Jisung’s eyes mimic your own, a little bit of mirth, hope, but also that tinge of sadness.
“Yeah,” You speak before you can even process what you’re saying, “That’s perfect.”
Before you’re ready, the large countdown on the preview screen in front of you starts and you panic, opting for your default pose which consists of a peace sign by your face. Jisung, behind you, has a similar pose: He leans over you slightly, placing a peace sign above your head with one hand, the other hand poking at the side of your cheek. It snaps the picture.
You smile brightly, turning your head around to him. Quickly, he loops an arm around your waist, bringing you close to him, leaning his weight into you. As you lean to the side under his weight, he holds you up. “Hey, we’re engaged, you gotta show off your ring!”
You laugh and do so, bringing your hand forward into the view of the camera. Jisung mimics you and the camera snaps again, taking a picture of Jisung and you close together with your shiny toy bear ring and his rubber dinosaur ring in front of you.
The screen blinks in front of you and the countdown for the next picture starts. “Two more!”
“Come here,” Jisung turns you around, and places his hands at the small of your back, pulling you close.
You push your palms against his chest, trying to create space but it’s no use. “Jisung?”
The picture snaps and the automated voice of the photo booth lets you know that it’s going to take the final picture.
Jisung’s lips tug into a smirk as he leans in closer, “Just kiss me. Please?”
Truthfully, you’re not into public displays of affection like this. Holding hands and hugging was probably the extent of affection you were okay to show to the world. Jisung, however, is not afraid to show how much he cares about you.
“What, I can’t kiss my fiancee?” He repeats with a small laugh.
One look at him with that sly smirk on his face was all it took for you to tilt your head up to meet his lips with yours. Your hands go to his jaw, giving you more purchase for the kiss. Even after the camera takes the final picture and it starts to print out the photo strips, you're left in the tender kiss.
When you finally pull a part, you’re breathless.
Both you and Jisung are all smiles, pressing your foreheads together. You hold his gaze for just a moment longer before you tear away from him to get her the photo strip. With a bite of his lip, he follows after you.
“Ji, these are cute!” You show him the photo strips, that smile still plastered on your face.
He takes them in his hand, tracing a finger of the last pose. “Oh, honey. We already look happily married.” He brings you into his side by your waist and your grin grows wider.
“We do, don’t we?” You take the pictures and place them into your tri-fold wallet to keep it safe from wrinkles and creases before tossing it into your bag.
At the aquarium, you and Jisung took your time going through all of the many exhibits, from bay aquatics to tropical and reef fish. Jisung would sprinkle in some interesting facts that he learned from watching an animal documentary or even from the lid of a snapple bottle.
The whole time, you held hands. When he would point to things close, he would use his free hand to place the pad of his finger gently on the glass – he told you it was inhumane to tap on it, ‘Have you seen Finding Nemo?’, he said – whenever he would point out something in a tank. When he would notice something across the room or hall, he would point with the hand that held yours, index finger pointed in that direction with the rest of his fingers wrapped snugly around your hand.
Now, you’re in the main hall, looking at a map of the place on the wall. “Jisung, I want to see the jellyfish.”
“Jellyfish, got it.” Jisung’s finger grazes over the map from your current location to the back of the building. He nods to himself and then points with your hands together towards the right maze of hallways. “That way.” While the both of you walk towards the jellyfish exhibit, Jisung’s eyes stay on the map just a little bit longer, committing the next place that you would go to memory.
The exhibit hall you walk into is dimly lit, the low light coming from the tanks of jellyfish itself, the soft sound of waves crashing playing over the speakers in the room. Jisung guides you to the first tank, recessed into the wall. Your eyes go wide, filled with wonder. While other aquarium visitors would stop and observe the tank and leave shortly after, Jisung and you stayed longer.
“Do you like jellyfish?” Jisung’s voice is low, but loud enough for you to hear over the calming waves.
“I do, they look so… easygoing.” You go to the next window, watching the plump jellyfish swim across the tank.
Jisung moves his finger along the glass with it. “These are the Japanese Sea Nettle jellyfish.” His finger traces the long tentacles, dragging it down the glass. The orange color of the jellyfish is a beautiful contrast against the blue of the tank. The corners of his lips tug upwards in a smile so wide it reaches his eyes, “Jellyfish are 95% water, that’s why they look so different out of it. I also think that’s why they’re super interesting to watch swim. They look like they’re floating.” He laughs nervously at himself, “Well, I mean they are floating.”
You laugh with him, tugging him towards the large cylindrical tank in the middle of the room, “No, I get it. It looks like they’re weightless.”
The tank in the middle goes from floor to ceiling and is filled with lots of jellyfish, a type that’s smaller than the Japanese Sea Nettle. The lights at the bottom of the tank change color every so often, the current purple hue casting a purple glow on the nearly translucent jellyfish.
You stand in front of the tank, watching as the glow shifts into a cool blue. “These are my favorite ones.”
Jisung watches your face and admires the way you look at the jellyfish. Your eyes are wide, lips in a small smile, head tilted to the side. The jellyfish and tank are reflected in your eyes and as the light changes to red, he has to tear his eyes away from you. In a quick recovery, he clears his throat. “These are moon jellyfish. They’ve got a really round and big bell compared to their tentacles.”
You glance at Jisung briefly from the corner of your eyes and notice how his eyes move as they trace the jellyfish’ movement. “Do you know why I like jellyfish so much?”
Of course he didn’t, but he doesn’t say anything and instead waits for you to answer.
“I just imagine their life of floating in the ocean, going in whatever way the water takes them. I’m a little jealous of them, really.”
Jisung looks back at you and pulls you to him. He settles you in front of him as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pressing his cheek against the side of your head.
Once you’ve stayed for a full cycle of the color changes, Jisung whispers against your ear, “Y/N, are you ready to go to the next exhibit?”
You nod and he retakes your hand in his and leads you out into the hallway.
“These are some of my favorite animals here.” Jisung walks backwards as he leads you into the room.
The smell is really strong and frankly kind of stinky, but you get over it once you realize that you’re looking at penguins through a glass. There’s many of them, some diving in the water, others just standing on the platform meant to resemble a rock with their flipper-like wings at their sides.
You’re not as close as you want to be, children sitting in rows in front of the large glass window. Soon, the kids stand, getting closer just as the penguins crowd around the door to the exhibit where you assume the employees enter. Sure enough, someone comes through the door with a large bucket of fish. You clap and laugh along with the other visitors as the penguins gather around for their meal time.
You take a seat on a bench, still watching the penguins. The kids file out, someone on the intercom attracting their attention when they announced a tidal pool exhibit where they could touch starfish.
As the penguins finish their meals and the employee leaves through the door, the penguins go about their regular business. You notice two standing close to each other on the rock, one nudging the other with its head.
“Those two remind me of us.” You point at the two birds before zooming in with the camera of your phone and taking a picture. After a couple of pictures, you place your phone on your lap. “Here’s my animal fact,” You giggle. Not only is the possibility of Jisung’s habits rubbing off on you amusing, but you’re a little excited that you could share a fact with him for once. “Many different species of penguins will only have one mate for the rest of their life.” You take his hand back in yours again, the brief moment without it made you miss the warmth he radiated.
Jisung stares forward, though his eyes look a little distant. His smile is lopsided, a reflection of how bittersweet this whole day is.
He doesn’t tell you, but he already knew that fact. He wonders silently if you’ve heard the story about a group of three penguins. Two were mates and the third was a female penguin attracted to the male penguin. Eventually, the male’s mate passes away and although that made him available to love the third penguin, he passed away from the grief of losing his soulmate.
“Y/N, do you know what inyeon is?”
You turn your head to him and notice his far-off stare. “No, what is inyeon?” You speak slowly, doing your best to imitate the way he said the word, clearly a foreign word to you, never once hearing of it or speaking it.
Absent-mindedly, he runs a thumb over your knuckles. “It’s silly, really. Koreans believe in the idea that certain people are meant for each other, but that it could take thousands of lifetimes to get it right. Maybe the penguins got it right this time, like this is the lifetime where everything aligned.”
“Hm,” You take a beat to reflect on his words. “Like fate. Destiny.” The more you think about it, the more you start to wonder: Who was that person for you? Would you know if that lifetime was the lifetime? Could this be your lifetime?
As you lean your head on Jisung’s shoulder, your phone vibrates in your lap. One glance at the notification of your flight convinces you that it’s not.
The night air is a little crisp when you walk out, your cardigan in your bag completely forgotten. Instead, Jisung’s body heat keeps you warm as you latch onto his arm. The pace of your walk is set slow, the lights from the lamps on the street and from inside buildings shining through their windows illuminating your walk.
“Where do you want to be in five years?” Jisung’s voice cuts through the bustling of the streets, the soft mumble of people talking on their own walks with friends and family.
The question catches you off guard. Where did you see yourself? Previously, you’d probably see yourself just doing what you always did: wake up, go to work, put just enough effort to maintain relationships with your friends, see your dad once a week. You look at Jisung. He smiles at you, no sign of judgment that would follow. That gives you enough assurance and courage to even just imagine something more for yourself.
That’s what Jisung has given to you.
So you let out a sigh and it’s not of frustration. No, instead it’s a sigh that sheds off your own fears and judgemental attitude about wanting more than what you previously had for yourself.
“I want to be happy.” Without knowing, you squeeze Jisung’s hand. “Maybe promoted at my job or at a better one.” You chuckle at the idea, instead of being behind a computer screen the whole time, maybe something more client facing, interacting with people. “A better relationship with my friends. More dinner parties with Robin and the girls.” You stop at an intersection and look up at Jisung. “What about you?”
Jisung smiles brightly. He’s thought about the question a lot and it’s something you admire about him. Through the challenges that life has thrown him, he was able to come out of it as a bright person.You smile back at him when you think about how his friend Chan would be happy to see him now.
“Happy. Successful.” He laughs at how arrogant he comes off with that sentence. “I hope in five years I’m able to share my music with people”
You interrupt him, excited while you step off the curb into the street when it is safe. “You will! You need to let the world hear your music, Jisung. It’s incredible.”
Jisung shrugs his shoulders modestly. “I would love to see Loud Mouths continuing to do well. I mean, we’re doing great now, but imagine another Loud Mouths somewhere outside of Korea. We’ve been talking about partnerships and collaborations with other restaurants, like showcasing baked goods from Seungmin’s cafe during our brunch hours. I hope the place gets big enough that we can help smaller local companies out like that.”
Jisung stops and that’s when you realize that you’re in front of a fountain. The water trickling sounds calm and serene in the middle of the city. The lights on the ground and in the fountain showcase the area beautifully.
He comes up behind you and takes a coin out from his pocket, similar to how he did earlier in the day. He places it in front of your face and you take it into your palm, squeezing it with one hand over the other tightly. “Go ahead, Toss a Coin and Make a Wish.”
As you close your eyes, Jisung steps back to give you the space and breathing room. You think about all the major events that have happened in your life; both the good and the bad. You’re reminded of both of your parents. You recall your mother’s beautiful smile, her radiant energy and how truly, all she wanted for you was to be safe and happy. Something that your dad always wishes for you. It took awhile for your relationship with your dad to get to where it is now, and you have no doubt that it will continue to get better. That same sentiment is shared by Robin – who you cannot thank enough for being so patient and having so much faith in you, even when you probably weren’t the best friend you could be.
Safe and happy. You wonder for a moment what that looks like.
A smile stretches your lips.
Safe and happy looks like right now. This day. With Jisung.
You open your eyes and toss the coin into the fountain. In lands with a plop and a small splash.
You turn your body towards Jisung who on cue, makes his way back to be by your side, strong arms engulfing you in a warm and tight embrace. You lean into him as he cradles your body against him, gently rocking the both of you back and forth.
“I wished th–”
Jisung pulls apart, eyes wide in horror. “No, you can’t tell me. It won’t come true if you do.”
When Jisung looks down into your eyes, he notices the glassy reflection. Your eyes start to sting a little as tears start to pool. However; they don’t fall, a poetic testament to the balance that is how you’re feeling right now: both untroubled in his embrace and out of sorts with tomorrow’s departure from this dream land that you’ve lived for the past two weeks.
Jisung is right. Wishes don’t come true if you speak them out loud, but perhaps that’s why you say it. Your wish is so outlandish, so selfish, so fantasied that it didn’t matter if you said it loud.
“I wished that this day would never end.”
ending author’s notes: don't we all, mc. we're almost done here. i love and am welcomed to all feedback. see you guys next chapter ;)
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the bucket list ✘ [thirteen.5]
series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist]
summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.
pairing: han jisung x afab!reader
genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, fluff, angst, comfort, eventual smut.
general warnings: tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, mentions of death in later chapters.
word count: 2.5k
chapter content: smut; minors do not interact!! multiple orgasms (2), thigh riding, penetrative sex (p in v), no mention of condom, breastplay. cursing, angst.
author's notes: Very short chapter, can be read indepenently from the series and skipping this will not impact your experience if you just don't want to read smut. :)
A heavy sigh leaves your lips when you walk into Jisung’s room, clad in an oversized shirt of his. Most of your things were packed, so naturally he lent you one of his shirts. Jisung is situated on his bed, sitting against the wall, one leg propped up to support his arm as he scrolls through his phone. He tosses his phone right away when he notices you standing in his doorway.
“Hey, come here,” Jisung moves and beckons you over with a hand motion.
You make your way over, dragging your feet in the process. Jisung takes your hand hand helps you into bed, settling next to him sitting up against the wall. You let out another sigh, placing your head against his chest.
“What’s wrong?” Jisung squeezes you closer to him, rubbing small circles into your arm with the tip of his finger.
You shrug a shoulder. “Everything.” You look up to him with a sad excuse for a smile on your lips.
Jisung reaches across his lap and places a hand on your thigh, sighing with you this time. “I know. I don’t want you to leave either.”
“What do we do then?” You pause, thinking of absolutely absurd ideas. You laugh at how sad all of it was. “Should we actually get married? Maybe I just don’t go back and wait for the embassy to find me.”
Jisung shakes his head and sits up, causing you to do so as well. He taps on your thigh and easily, you find a seat on his lap. You straddle him, his hands tenderly holding your jaw. “Look at me.”
Your eyes open and you look into his own through the cover of your lashes.
The room is still and quiet, a simple lamp on his desk on the other side of the room casting a dim yellow glow. You’re so close to each other, his breath tickles your face. When you smile, he smiles back at you.
“Forget about everything else, everyone else. It’s just you and me, okay?” Jisung whispers to you. The way he speaks to you is as if truly you were the only ones left in the world. All of it, how close he is to you, the feeling of his breath on your cheek, the rumble and rasp of his voice, it stirs something in you.
“Jisung, I don’t want this day to end.” Your own voice comes out shaky, your body trembling. It’s the desperation manifesting in a physical way.
“Then it won’t,” Jisung lifts his head, straightening his back to press his lips against yours gently. His lips move against yours in a tender kneading motion and respond to him with your own kisses.
His hands travel down your neck, down your back, where he settles at your hips. Jisung’s fingers grip into the fleshy part of your hips, slowly moving you and your core closer to him.
You reposition yourself so that now you’re sitting just on his thigh. Your lips and his haven’t come apart since the last time he spoke, but when you pull apart to toss your hair over your shoulder, Jisung’s eyes open to find yours. On your knees, you’re taller than him in his sitting position. Slowly, you lower your core, only covered in your panties, onto his thigh, gray sweats still on him, a small tent forming at his crotch.
Jisung exhales and it’s shaky, the horrible realization hitting him that you were using his thigh and not his dick to get off. All of that frustration though is tossed away as he observes your face contort in pleasure, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closed shut while you move your hips back and forth, grinding your heat on his high.
“Hey, hey,” He tsks at you and immediately you know what he wants– needs. You open your eyes and loop your arms around his neck, bracing yourself on your shoulders. The pressure you apply on his thigh increases, dragging yourself on him over and over again. You look down at him and you can see the absolute fulfillment he gets seeing you get yourself off to him. “Good girl,” he coos.
You almost whimper from his words alone.
When your brows knit together, he nods at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, his mouth parted slightly mimicking the way yours has dropped open. “M’hmm, like that? Feel good?” The way his voice is no longer a whisper, low, and gravel-like knots that feeling in your stomach further.
Your breath starts to hitch in your throat, short soft whimpers escaping you as Jisung pressing his thigh up against you. You’re determined, now, and you’re so close.
So close.
You hold your breath as your eyes shut with your head thrown back, feeling a tingly sensation take over your body.
When you open your eyes, Jisung is looking at you with a raise of his brow and a smug smirk.
You avert your eyes away, embarrassed with what you had done. You can’t believe that you basically just rode Jisung’s thigh until you came. The more you think about it, the hotter your face gets, cheeks tinted bright pink in the low glow of the light.
Jisung chuckles at you softly and leans forward and presses a kiss on your cheekbone. His lips place kisses on the tip of your nose, the corner of your lips, then finally your jaw. “Do you realize what you do to me?”
You stay silent and only respond to him by looking at him through your lashes bashfully.
He takes his hands off of your hips and slips them under your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. You purse your lips together, observing Jisung’s face as his eyes roam your body, topless in front of him. He leans forward once more to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “You are so beautiful, Y/N.”
You’re about to say something, but he captures your lips again, leaving you breathless. His lips travel across your jaw in open kisses on your skin. Between his kisses you manage to peel Jisung’s shirt off of him as well, the warmth of his skin on yours sending electrical shocks down your spine. isung buries his head in the crook of your neck, his lips graze the junction where your neck and shoulder meet.
A high pitched shaky moan escapes your parted rosy lips and your hands rest on his shoulders. The reaction entices Jisung to linger longer at that spot, kissing it just before he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your skin. Your mouth drops open, the arousal you feel from the simple action inaudible. Instead, you react to him with a squeeze of your fingers on his shoulders, your arms bringing him closer to you, your legs squeezing around him in need.
As much as Han wants to stay with his head buried in your neck to explore all the sounds he could elicit from you from just that spot, his lips venture down your decolletage. You purse your lips together to suppress the moan that wants to escape you when his mouth engulfs your breast, tongue giving extra attention to the sensitive peak. When his hand kneads your other breast, your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip, brows knit together tightly.
The wetness between your legs is only growing, but so is Jisung’s own arousal. His sweatpants do little to conceal or restrain his hard dick, standing at nearly full attention, aroused by the smell and smoothness of your skin, the errotic sounds coming from your mouth, everything about you was driving Jisung insane.
Gently, you press your hands on his shoulders, pulling away from him. He releases your breast with a pop and when he looks up at you, you can see the confusion on his face. You back yourself off of him, stroking his hardened member through the fabric of his pants. He smiles at you nervously, feeling bashful at how he must look right now, as if you held all the power to make him crumble in your hands. A smirk dances on your lips as you tug at the waistband of his sweats. Jisung complies and lifts his hips and helps you shimmy his pants and boxer briefs off of him.
Jisung nearly becomes a total sputtering mess when your hand takes a grasp at his length, thumb running over his angry red tip, spreading his pre-cum as much as you could. Jisung can do nothing but watch in complete awe when you let your gathered spit spill down to his cock, using it as a lubricant while you start to stroke him up and down with a sense of purpose.
Throwing his head back, it hits the wall he’s propped up against with a loud thud. You stop and loosen your hand around his girth, eyes shooting up to him wide in concern. Jisung winces, sucking air in between his teeth in pain. He opens his eyes and shakes his head at you, laughing at the situation: a small ache at the back of his head, your hand around his dick mid-stroke while you were naked in front of him. You start to laugh with him before you move your hand at the wrist to continue. “You okay?” You ask, just to make sure.
“Yeah, but,” His hand grasps at your wrist, stilling its movements. He grabs your other wrist and gently pulls you up on your knees. You let him guide you closer to him, thighs on either side of his waist now. He leans up and presses a kiss at your jaw. When he speaks, his voice tickles at your neck. “I need to be inside of you, right now.” His words come out as a low growl-like groan and it almost makes your thighs tremble underneath you.
“Please,” Jisung murmurs one last time against the skin of your shoulder. You could feel his tip right at your entrance, twitching in anticipation, your slick teasing him. He needs you. He wants you. Just as you need and want him.
Your fingers find way into his hair when you give him a polite nod, your teeth capturing your bottom lip as you slowly sink down onto him. The stretch you feel is absolutely euphoric; his nails digging into the skin of your hips grounding you back down to earth. You exhale the shaky breath you had been holding as you brace yourself for his length and girth. You moan all the way down while Jisung matches you with a low groan. Once you’ve bottomed out, you wiggle your hips with the intention of hearing a shuddering moan from Jisung, a boost to your ego; but it backfires on you when his dick strokes against a sensitive spot making you shut your eyes tightly in ecstasy.
“Fuck,” Jisung curses, resting his forehead on your chest.
You stay there for a moment, giving the both of you some time get used to the feeling. The sounds of heavy panting filling the otherwise silent room.
Jisung applies pressure up against your thighs with his hands, encouraging you to move. You start to set a slow rhythm, simply gliding your pussy up and down on his length. Jisung’s eyes stare at your point of connection, watching as your beautiful pussy engulfs him over and over again. He drags his view up your body, admiring the way that your breasts bounce up and down with your movements. He brings his mouth over a nipple of yours, tongue paying extra attention to the hardened nub.
You sigh in pleasure at the stimulation, leaning into his touch with an arched back. This gives you a deeper angle, the head of Jisung’s cock stroking a certain spot as you continue to grind on him
Jisung starts to leave wet sloppy kisses all around your chest, teeth scraping at skin at random areas. An arm loops around the small of your back as you arch further, supporting you as you place you lean back against your arms now.
You start to gyrate your hips in small circular motions and you know that Jisung enjoys the movement when you see him toss his head back again, this time careful not to bang it against the wall.
Suddenly, he pulls you back up. The speed he does it catches you by surprise and you have to catch yourself, hands placed flat against his muscular chest. His warm hands travel to the round bottoms of your ass, balancing your right above his hard and swollen cock.
You’re positioned to look down at him again, staring down at his handsome brown eyes. You lean down to kiss him, eyes closed and hands holding his jaw lovingly. He kisses you back, a battle for dominance. Right then, Jisung lowers you back onto his cock and snaps his hips up into you, driving himself deeper into you. Your eyes open in shock and your moan is muffled by Jisung’s lips on yours. He pulls away from the kiss and stares up at you with a small smile on his face.
“I wanna see that beautiful face of yours, okay?”
You can do nothing but furrow your brows as he continuously fucks up into you, too focused and entranced in the feeling of the knot in your stomach slowly coming undone. You exhale slowly, doing your best to regain your composure. You nod cautiously at his request, unsure if you’d truly be able to keep your eyes trained on him the whole time.
Jisung watches you intently, reveling in the way your brow twitches, the way your nails dig deeper into his skin of the back of his neck, how your mouth drops open when he snaps his hips just at the moment he bottoms out, rubbing your sweet spot over and over again. He wants to remember the way you look right now: sweat gathering at your forehead, tits bouncing, thighs around him; the sound of your voice: soft moans, heavy panting, how you say his name over and over again the closer you get to your orgasm.
Jisung’s thrusts into you get sloppier as your walls wrap around him tighter. He bites on his lower lip, eyes half lidded just like your own, his desire to watch you reach your climax just as strong as yours is to watch his. The muscles in his arms flex as his hold on your ass becomes deliciously painful.
Loud pants and moans fill his room and the both of you are so damn close.
You brush Jisung’s hair away from his sweaty forehead before giving him one tender kiss to his lips. With foreheads pressed together, Jisung thrusts four more times, each time harder than the last and finally, you come undone together.
It takes a while for you to catch your breaths, but you’re content with resting against his bare chest and his arms around you, his fingers tracing lazy shapes on your back in a soothing manner. You listen to the beating of his heart as it slows down as he evens his breathing.
Finally, you look up to Jisung and do your best to hide the tears that beg to fall. “Don’t forget me, okay?”
Jisung shakes his head in disbelief. “Never.”
ending author's notes: just a really quick in between chapter. I couldn't let these two go without one last intimate moment. I'll see you for our final chapter. :) take care of yourselves!
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Excuse me while my heart implodes from feeling too many things. Did it make me cry? No, I swear there was just something in my eye. Shhhh.
Ah, thank you for this amazingly sweet and heartfelt story. It was such a pleasure to read, the ups and downs. I have no words for how good this was. <3
the bucket list ✘ [fourteen // FINAL]
series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]
summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.
pairing: han jisung x afab!reader
genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, fluff, angst, comfort, eventual smut.
general warnings: tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, mentions of death in later chapters.
word count: 5.6k
chapter content: cursing. non-explicit shower (not smut), mentions of food, mc has a chat with jisung's best friend, lots and lots of angst, but also a hopeful ending.
author’s note: thank you for reading. and while i know this is a lesser popular work, words cannot express how much every like, comment, reblog has meant. let's say goodbye together. 💛
You can't sleep last.
Despite your aching body, your heavy lids, your fatigued mind, you can't –won't– sleep. Your last moments with Jisung would not be wasted with sleep.
Instead, you stay in bed for hours, tangled in each other’s limbs, the thin fabric of Jisung’s sheets the only cover to your bodies. Neither of you are worried about how loud your voices carry through the walls of his apartment into his neighbor’s unit. Instead, you giggle and laugh, the both of you committing those sounds of happiness to memory.
As you lay beside him, Jisung runs his fingertips up and down the curves of your side, mentally mapping the topography of your body, appreciating the moment when the corner of your eyes crinkle as the sound of soft light laughter spilled from your rosy lips. He takes note of the odd freckle below one of your finger’s knuckles when he kisses your fingers, prying them away from his cheeks when you pinch them in retaliation for all the tickles.
“What time is your flight?”
Your head lays on Jisung’s pillow while he's on his side, head propped up on his hand supported by his elbow. Your hands are laced together in the air and you move your wrist back and forth in a playful manner. You choose not to look at the clock. As far as you’re concerned, the moon was still up and it was dark outside and that was all you needed to know. “Not until later.”
“Y/N,” Jisung looks down at you with a stern look on his face. “You should get ready and shower.”
You huff, subsequently blowing some of your hair out of your face. A pout settles on your lips. “If we shower together, can we stay here for a little bit longer?” You fight the shy smile from making an appearance, but you can’t hide the pink blush that sweeps over your cheeks. This wasn’t like you. In fact, open and blatant flirting like that usually made you feel uncomfortable; but not in a bad way, just in the way that it was such a foreign concept to you. However, right now in this moment, it felt right.
Jisung chuckles low, the rumble in his chest tickling your shoulder. “I don’t think that would save us anytime.”
You roll your eyes, “I promise I’ll be good.” For emphasis, you press yourself against him further, letting him know you were adamant on spending more time in bed with him.
Jisung playfully groans with your action, dipping his head low to place his forehead against the back of your shoulder. “I don’t.”
Despite all that talk, Jisung is very respectful in the shower. His fingers move in circular motions on your scalp as he shampoos away the oil from your hair, strong firm hands massaging and kneading the knots in your shoulders under the warm water.
It’s actually you that has to show more self restraint, running the washcloth soaked in soap across his wide chest and small waist. Maybe it’s the lighting in the bathroom, but you truly don’t remember him looking so… delectable.
With a finger, he lifts your chin up to look at him, a suspicious brow raised. A deep laugh bounces off the tile walls when your eyes dart away, refusing to look at him. You feel a little embarrassed with how little self control you seemed to have.
Jisung reaches behind you for the shower knob and turns it cold.
Your mouth hangs open with a loud gasp, bringing your arms across your body to attempt to keep the warmth. “What the hell Jisung?!”
He steps out of the shower stall and wraps a fluffy towel around his waist, pushing his hair back out of his face. “You said you’d be good and you promised.” He looks back at you with such a shit-eating grin on his face. “I didn’t want you to go back on that promise.”
Getting ready went by smoothly, albeit slowly. You dreaded pulling your tight white baby tee over your body. You took your time, bringing your loose army green pants over your hips. Packing up the rest of your belongings was a chore you didn’t want to do.
You meet Jisung out in his living room, dressed casually in faded black jeans, a low scoop neck white tee and a fuzzy brown cardigan. He’s at the kitchen island, looking over the pages of the worn down journal that belonged to your mother. He takes in the feminine and delicate penmanship, eyes going over journal entries and doodles. Jisung lets a smile form on his lips when he recalls how you told him that you often looked over her journals to feel closer to her. He thinks for a moment that he’s doing the same thing right now, but with the intention to feel closer to you. The happiness fades from his eyes momentarily when he realizes why he wants to feel closer to you; the distance between you will grow soon. Physically, and perhaps more than that.
Your footsteps by Jisung’s door snap him out of his thoughts and he twists his whole body towards you. He’s quick to hop out of his chair to help you bring your large suitcase into the hallway. He looks down at you and the look on his face softens when he sees the pronounced pout your face. “Hey, there’s no need for that.”
You wrap your arms around Jisung’s waist when he pulls you in for a hug, placing your head against him as you sigh. As much as you wish you could push your emotions aside to enjoy the rest of the day, you can’t help but feel like you’re leaving a whole life – not your own, but maybe a life you could have had – here in Korea.
“Come on, Seungmin’s cafe should be opening soon.” Jisung holds your hand in his left, your suitcase in his right hand and he leads you towards the front door.
Your feet are planted in place and when Jisung looks back at you, he offers you a sympathetic smile. “Okay, how about I bring your stuff down into the car and I’ll come back up to get you.”
You give him a meek nod and smile. “Yeah, I think that would be good.”
Jisung nods and stacks your travel backpack on top of your smaller carryon luggage and brings all of your suitcases into the hallway. He spots your mom’s journal on the kitchen island and quickly grabs it, placing it into your backpack and letting the door close behind him.
You can hear the sound of your luggage rolling down the hallway when you finally decide to take a step forward, further into the living room kitchen area. You recall how Jisung and his friends’ laughter filled the room just a couple of nights ago, the smell of the steak and pasta that Lee Know helped cook up very distinct in your mind.
You turn back around and place your palm on the sturdy door frame of Jisung’s room before taking a step inside. You walk the perimeter, your eyes glancing over his books and knick-knacks on his shelves. The books aren’t organized in any particular way and you wonder if it was arbitrary or if there was a specific order that was only known to Jisung; maybe it was the order he found them interesting or if he placed them on the shelf based on which topic he knew about the most.
At his computer setup, you find his guitar and microphone and you’re taken back to the night that he showed you the song Alien. Your heart hurts a little when you remember the lyrics and how sad and lonely they sounded, but there was also a hope in your heart that Jisung would be able to write songs that were happier.
Your eyes fall onto the small wolf figurine and you pick it up. It seemed out of place. Most of the trinkets around Jisung’s room were more self-explanatory: A Rubick’s cube, the plushies on his bed – including the one you won at Lotte World by the way –, a slinky. But this was the only figure that resembled a life-like wolf. You turn it over and find an inscription on the bottom of the base. It read, “Chan”.
You place the wolf back down gently and make your way out of Jisung’s room, looking back one last time at his made bed, a blush traveling across your cheeks when you think back on the memories made there.
You travel across the open common area to the guest room you had stayed in previously. You sit on your knees in the middle of the room, hands placed on your lap. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. You weren’t necessarily the most spiritual person, but ever since your mother passed, you found yourself talking to the air, hoping there was an afterlife for her to hear you in.
You clear your throat before speaking to the empty room. “Hi, Chan.” You awkwardly chuckle and relax your shoulders with a sigh. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this was your room.” You shift your weight and opt to sit cross legged instead. “Obviously, I didn’t know you, but all of your friends talk very highly about you. They say that the people you surround yourself with are often reflections of yourselves, so you must have been an amazing individual.”
You open your eyes, but keep them half lidded as you stare at a random spot on the floor in front of you. “I’m sorry that the world was cruel to you. I’m sorry that you felt that you were walking alone in life. Jisung, Seungmin, Changbin, Lee Know… They miss you terribly, I can tell by the way they speak about you. But I want to tell you that as someone who didn’t know you, you have made such a positive impact on those men. Jisung especially. He is such a beautiful soul, so kind, so thoughtful. Intelligent. His determination is unparalleled. Jisung told me that you saw something in him that no one else did… Chan, Jisung may have had it in him, but he didn’t see it until you did. So thank you for cultivating and nurturing that spark.”
You close your eyes once more and offer the empty room a genuine smile, picking yourself up on your feet. As if on cue, Jisung opens the front door. He calls out from the doorway. “Y/N, are you ready?”
You meet Jisung at the entryway and slip your shoes on, grabbing your jacket and cross-body bag by the door. “Yeah, I think I am.”
Jisung holds his hand out. You take it and stand in the doorway. Your other hand hovers of the light switches and as you look over your shoulder into the kitchen and living room, you say your final goodbye to the apartment. With the flip of the switches, you close the door behind you and make your way to Jisung’s car in the parking lot.
Jisung and you are at the door to Seungmin’s cafe right as he opens the door to start his before-work hours shift. His sleepy eyes look over your forms and he groans, holding the door open for the both of you before he locks it up again. Jisung laughs and you smile at Seungmin apologetically as he throws the store keys on the counter, grumbling the whole time.
You take a seat at a table by the front window. Jisung stands by you, making sure the sign at the front of the door still says “Closed”. He’s particular about the lights that he turns on, only turning on the back lights and dimmer ones above head so there was just enough light to see.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have come, it’s really early.” You can smell the coffee beans as Seungmin makes himself a pour over in the back.
Jisung shakes his head and makes his way behind the counter, prepping two cups for the both of you. “Nah, don’t worry about it.”
You chew on your bottom lip, trusting Jisung. You look around the empty cafe, most chairs up on the tables from the previous day’s closing shift. It’s a stark difference to the way the cafe looked on the first day you came: it was quiet without the sounds of people chatting and the clangs of spoons being stirred in people’s cups or knives cutting pastries. You giggle when you remember how you had to hover around the tables just to get a seat.
“Hey, sorry.” Seungmin comes out from the back and places his cup of coffee on the counter, shoo’ing Jisung away from the espresso machine. “I’m one of those people who need coffee to have a functioning conversation in the morning.”
Jisung tries to take back control of the espresso machine. “You’re technically working. I got this, don’t worry.”
Seungmin eyes Jisung for a while before relenting and heading back into the back of the store. “Okay, just don’t break it.”
Jisung comes back to your table with a latte for you and an iced Americano for himself. He sits down right after and gives you a gummy smile, though it’s a bit forced. “I’m going to miss this. I feel like it’s become a routine for me.”
You smile lopsidedly, and bring your feet up onto the chair, pressing your knees against your chest. “Yeah. For me too.”
Jisung watches you as you take a sip of your latte, eyes softening when he notices that you’re barefaced. He is going to miss this. He’ll miss your makeup-less face in the mornings and the late evenngs right before bed, your vanilla lattes and how he’ll never understand how you could take your coffee so sweet in the mornings. He’ll miss flirting with you, and even though his job relied on flirtatious interactions, he liked flirting with you because he never knew what he’d get in response: a shy blush, a roll of your eyes with a smile on your face; his favorite though was when you would gain the confidence to flirt back with a mischievous look in your eyes, like you were challenging him to see who would break first.
At this point, you catch him staring at you. “Do I have something on my face?” You wipe your upper lip just in case you had a latte-mustache.
Jisung chuckles and shakes his head. “No. I was just thinking.”
“Thinking?”
He nods and takes a sip of his iced americano, chewing on his straw. “Yeah. I’m just thinking about how much I’ll miss you.”
You grow quiet and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “I’ll miss you too.” The air shifts between you two.
Seugnmin comes to your table with a warmed up chocolate croissant, placing it in front of you. “Don’t be dramatic. This is the 21st century, you guys can just call each other.”
“You’re right.” You give him a laugh, but it isn’t very convincing. Jisung meets your eyes and you quickly take a bite of the offered croissant.
You both know the likelihood of maintaining a long distance friendship. Sure you could call, but the time difference would make it difficult. Your respective busy work schedules would take up a lot of time. Who knows what life would look like when you two both went back to your regular lives.
And to be honest, you could keep in contact, you could maintain that friendship, but…
Would friendship be enough?
The ride to the airport isn’t that bad. The roads were mostly empty since it was still dark out, signs of the sun rising over the horizon visible once Jisung parks in car in the multi-level parking garage. He assists you with your bags, holding your hand while you both make your way to bag check, fingers wrapping around your palm tightly. He doesn’t say much, though he doesn’t need to. Jisung lets you know how much he doesn’t want you to go with the way he holds onto your hand like if you were to let go, he would never see you again.
And as dramatic as that sounded, it wasn’t that far-fetched.
Once you check in your bag, you place your passport that you showed the person at the check in back into your large travel backpack. You take Jisung’s hands in your own, gently swinging it back and forth between you two. You take a deep breath, your shoulders rising and falling as you do so.
“I guess this is it.”
Jisung nods, a little resigned. He’s feeling a lot of emotions and though he’s usually the type to get the last word in, he’s overwhelmed with how intensely he feels at the moment. He clears his throat, breaking his silence. “You sure you just can’t stay?”
You shake your head and quickly bring your arms around him, pressing yourself into his body. His arms snake around your form, one of his hands traveling up into your hair to bring you closer to him. He breathes in deeply, taking in the scent of your shampoo. It’s such a little detail, but he regrets not sneaking a look at the label of your shampoo bottle for the days he’d inevitably miss you.
Jisung’s shirt grows damp the longer you stay in his arms. You both don’t want to see each other cry for two reasons: you’ll only find yourselves crying harder and it would make leaving even more difficult than it already was. When Jisung’s body starts trembling, you hold onto him tighter.
Jisung doesn’t want to see you go. As much as he’s turned his life around after the low he felt after Chan’s passing, you were such a beacon of light in his life. Sure Jisung learned how to grieve, he had his friends next to him to help him get out of that funk, his job was both challenging and fulfilling, but you?
He was afraid that there would be no one else like you in this lifetime.
No.
He was sure there would be no one else like you in this lifetime.
The airport was quiet, soft sounds of luggage wheels rolling on the floor and the announcements of a woman’s voice overhead every so often the only things that could distract you from the gentle sobs between you two. Eventually, Jisung finds the strength to recompose himself and just like you had previously done a lot on this trip, you follow his example. He takes a step back and you're met with a sunny cheerful look on Jisung’s face, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He places his palm on the top of your head, smoothing out your disheveled hair from burying your face in his chest.
As Jisung tilts his head downward, you lift your heels off of the tile floor to bring your lips closer to his. It’s just a simple kiss, there’s no fight for dominance, no lip bites; just a sweet and tender kiss to remember each other by.
When you pull apart for the last time, Jisung cups your cheek, running a thumb over your cheekbone to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize fell. “In our next life, Y/N.”
“In our next life, Jisung.” Your voice is unstable after catching your breath from the silent sobs, eyes irritated and watery. You purse your lips together tightly in an attempt to hold back the floodgates. You take a deep breath and nod once at him and muster up the biggest smile that you could. You grab your backpack and carry-on luggage and make your way towards the TSA line, walking backwards as you bid farewell to Jisung’s smiling and waving form through the glass window.
Jisung waves at you one last time as you disappear from sight. The smile on his lips drops and he shoves his hands in the pocket of his jeans.
You waited until the last possible minute to go through TSA just so you could spend all the time you could with Jisung, so when you made it through you went straight to your gate that was already boarding. You had no time to mull over your thoughts, focusing on finding your seat and then managing to put your luggage in the overhead bin close enough to where you were sitting so you wouldn’t lose track of it.
Now, you’re ignoring the flight safety protocol that the flight attendant is miming, seatbelt loosely strapped over your lap in the window seat. You take the sleeves over the palms of your hand and press them against your face, catching your tears as they fall.
You don’t care how you look to the other passengers on the plane; not when you’re thinking about how life had a funny way of introducing possibly the most perfect soul into your life then taking him away shortly after Han Jisung was a pleasant surprise on your trip to Korea. He was the best thing that could have ever happened to you. You can’t even begin to imagine how the trip would have gone if you hadn’t stopped to give a random person a bouquet of flowers.
Your plane pulls away from the gate, starting its taxi to the runway.
In two weeks, Jisung taught you a lot about yourself. He taught you how it felt to be listened to and heard, even how to listen and just be present for someone. He managed to show you, someone he barely knew, patience and kindness. He taught you how to go with the flow, to not worry about what comes next. He showed you that grief looked different for everyone and the beautiful things you could take away from the grief; that grief didn’t mean you were broken.
Jisung taught you life after loss.
You think about what he told about inyeon: the notion that two people are connected and bound together, but it could take lifetimes for them to finally be united.
You and Jisung were meant to meet. You were sure of it. Perhaps you needed each other when you did to show you both that choosing to keep going wasn’t in vain, that it was the right decision. You showed each other the beauty of life. Maybe in this life, that’s all you were meant to be for each other...
In our next life.
In our next life.
In our next life.
Those words echoed through your head.
Why?
It seemed so final, like you weren’t going to talk to each other. Ever. But you knew yourself. You two would start off talking everyday. Life would get in the way and it would become once a week. Eventually, you two would talk less, but you wouldn’t act like strangers. You’d leave a like on an Instagram post, he’d comment on a picture of yours. When he’d post a story that included the boys, you’d message him and let him know that you missed them all and your time in Korea. And when Jisung released his music, he’d send you the copy of the full tracklist first because he’ll always think of you.
But that wasn’t going to be enough.
And you would have to be okay with it.
Your fingers curl into your palms forming tight fists. With tears in your eyes, you grab your phone from your bag under the seat in front of you. You scramble to find the instagram app on your phone and once you do, you navigate to your messages. You fine Jisung’s handle and start to type out a message.
“I don’t want to wait for another life. I want this life to be our life. I don’t want to have to wait until we get lucky enough to be reincarnated into penguins.”
You press send just as a flight attendant grabs your attention in the aisle. “Excuse me miss, but please put your hand held mobile devices in airplane mode.”
When they leave, you look back at your phone. Your message was delivered, but you wanted to wait a moment, just in case Jisung would read it. When the plane started to gain speed, signaling that it would be taking off soon, you put your phone on airplane mode, effectively cutting off your signal for the remainder of your 10 + hour flight.
When you get off the plane, your face is all puffy and the bright lights in the airport nearly blind you. When you look out of the tall floor to ceiling windows, it’s dark outside. You want nothing more than to go home, take a shower, and cry yourself to sleep despite doing so on the plane multiple times already. On your lengthy travel, you went back and forth between accepting that whatever you had with Jisung was done and being determined to make it work.
In the end, you realize that no matter what you wanted, Jisung had to also want the same thing, so there was no point in worrying over it.
There was no point, but that didn’t stop you.
You and the rest of your flight are escorted to baggage claim. Your baggage thankfully was one of the first couple of bags to show up on the conveyor belt. Once you gather your large luggage, you make your way through customs.
Thankfully, it goes smoothly and you’re about to grab your phone and finally take it out of airplane mode to call Robin to let her know that you’ve made it through customs and are looking for her, but when you make it through the gate out of customs and into the large main area of the airport, you find Robin jumping up and down.
You give her a tired smile, relieved to see a familiar face after hours on a plane. You feel so emotionally taxed that when you make your way to her, you drop all your belongings on the floor and hold her tightly.
Robin hesitates for a moment before finally returning your embrace. “Hey, are you okay, babes?”
You sigh and nod, your whole body relaxing, putting more weight on Robin than intended which makes her take a step back to plant her feet firmly on the ground to catch you. “I’m just…”
Your voice sounds shaky, which alarms Robin but instead of going into panic mode, she rubs circles on your back. “It’s okay. Let’s get you home.”
You place your forehead on the cold glass of Robin’s passenger side window, staring off into the outside where the bright city lights pass you on the freeway back to your apartment. Your phone sits in your lap.
While driving, Robin glances over at you. “Hey, have you texted Jisung?”
You glance at your phone and then back out of the window. “My phone’s been on airplane mode.”
With her eyes on the road, Robin scrunches up her brows and face in confusion. “I’m sure he’d like to know that you made it home safely.”
“Yeah, but…” Finally, you pick up your phone, staring at the lock screen. “I’m scared.”
Robin turns on the blinker to exit the freeway, thankful that your flight landed so early that it beat the roughest part of early morning traffic. “What do you have to be scared about?”
Nervous, you swipe to pull up your shortcuts, thumb hovering over the airplane mode toggle. “I told him I didn’t want to wait to be penguins.”
Robin takes a beat to look at you with a confused look on. “I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’ll trust you.”
Without taking your eyes off your phone screen, you give her a small smile, but nothing else.
When you don’t say anything and Robin is just met with silence, she places a hand on your thigh, giving you a pat of encouragement. “Hey. If it’s meant to be for you, it will be.”
You let out a big sigh and swallow the lump in your throat, finally taking your phone off of airplane mode. It takes a while, but eventually your notifications start to pop up. A few e-mail dings, a missed call from your dad – you’ll let him know you got home later; If anything, he already texted Robin to ask if you’ve been picked up–, and multiple Instagram messages.
You’re nervous, but you swipe to read the messages.
I’ve been staring at my phone in the parking lot now for the past 20 minutes. I don’t know what to say.
Oh, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, fuck. I just mean that I’m trying to find the right words to say.
All good things! I hope!!
Let me start by saying that the past two weeks have been magical. I never thought I could grow so attached to someone so quickly. You were an absolute light on my life.
are*
I’m not sure what I did that first day to make you want to approach me with a bouquet of flowers, but I’m thanking whatever higher power there is that I decided to try out a new cologne that morning.
Lol sorry i’m trying to make this light hearted so i don’t cry my eyes out on the drive back home.
Btw seungmin changbin and lee know wish you a safe flight. I told them to just message you but they said they wanted to give us time.
I guess they can see how much you mean to me.
Y/N…. you mean a lot to me. More than you could ever begin to imagine. I don’t believe in fate or destiny. Maybe i do idk, its a nice idea, but its just an excuse for things we can’t explain.
But maybe thats just it because i can’t explain how much saying goodbye at the airport felt like ripping out a part of me. Its like you took something from inside of me and left with it.
This is about to be so corny lol
But
Whatever it is that you took, just keep it safe, okay?
AHHHHHHHHH LMAAAAO wsadfjas i can’t stand myself lmfao i’m going to drive back and i’ll text you when i’m at the apartment.
Lol not me acting like you’re going to read this right now while you’re thousands of miles up in the sky.
I made it back except im not at the apartment im at Loud Mouths because I didn’t wanna be alone. I got way to used to annoying you all day lmao
Anyway i’d love to say that we shouldn't wait until our next lives. And i’d love to say that this is our lifetime, but we can’t know that. That’s out of our hands.
But i do know that there’s something on your mom’s bucket list that I was eyeing before you left.
For whatever it’s worth, if it my list, I’d cross it off.
I’m always here for you.
You look up from your phone and close your eyes, letting the tears fall. Your right hand goes over to your chest and you squeeze it over your heart, hoping that Jisung knows that he also has a part of you with him.
Robin helps you bring your luggage up into your apartment and you hug her goodbye, convincing her that your broken heart was not worth being late for work again. At least, not now. You promise her that you’ll check in after her shift and that al you truly want to do is sleep and cry.
You close the door behind her and place your backpack on your small round dining room table from IKEA. You take out your journal, seeing the words from Jisung’s message clearly in your mind. You sit down in the matching and you notice that it seems like something has been stuck between the pages.
You open it up to that page and it's your mother’s list. Between the pages is a pressed stem of Queen Anne’s lace. It’s dried already, Jisung had pressed the flowers previously in a book of his own during the two weeks, feeling sentimental over what at that point he thought was a start to a beautiful friendship.
Just then, there’s a knock on your door.
You have half the mind to tell them to fuck off, but you have to get up and the front door was on the way to the bathroom where you planned to shower and cry under the stream of water.
You open the door to no one. You look left and right, but there’s no sign of anyone even coming by. That is until you look down at your doormat. There’s a bouquet of flowers in a vase, identical to the ones that you picked out for Jisung at the very beginning of your adventure: Sunflowers, Queen Anne’s lace, baby blue eucalyptus leaves.
You smile and take it inside, finding a note in its leaves.
"해바라기
sunflower Just like sunflowers with the sun,
I only have eyes for you.
- Han Jisung.”
You set the vase down on the table and pick up your pen back up, looking over the list. In your mother’s elongated and slanted writing, with the letters connecting to each other in beautiful curves, dips, and loops, you confidently place an ✘ in the box next to “Fall In Love.”
You find our phone and excitedly open up your messages with Jisung. You want to tell him thank you for the flowers and that you’re home safe. You also want to tell him that the feeling is mutual, and that hopefully you’ll meet again in your next life as lovers.
Regardless of when that time will come, you’re happy to have met Han Jisung and so you will take whatever it is between you as it is.
You’re about to message Jisung when you notice “ji.one is typing…”
This is our lifetime.
ending author’s notes: thank you for reading The Bucket List. This all started as a one sentence idea in my drafts. Originally, this was to be a one shot, no more than 7k words, but the more I thought about it, the more i wanted to change it into a series. I will say though, the ending of this chapter had been planned since near the beginning, but while writing it, it was obvious I couldn't do that to these two, so I hope you enjoyed this more hopeful version. :) TBL has been extremely therapeutic for me and has helped me get through some difficult times. I hope that when you read this, these characters are able to touch you in some way as well.
If you’ve read this far, please consider reblogging. 💛
Until next time!
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