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ANOTHER DAY ANOTHER SMT SMF CHAPTER AAAAAAA

first of all, we a love an amazing backstory. i'm studying a literature-centered degree, and i can tell you that when the author starts narrating the moment the main character was born (and specially the way your narrative just flows while writing it) you know if the story is going to be good or not. and this, my dear, is going to be FIREEE because, captain is such a BADASS and we totally love her since she was a baby.

the way you just start to share those anecdotes that shaped captain's personality and character, childhood plagued with death and the reminder of all her suposedly sins, and OMG THE KRAKEN METAPHOR i'm truly impressed and amazed by it, how the monster represents all her repressed feelings, how you described the way it lives inside her, a company that never leaves.

this is truly just poetry, may, i swear. i know i'm a sucker for backstories, but how not to be one when authors here in tumblr have such an artfulness when weaving words???

the fact that she ended up finding a figure that really took care of her education (not of her because she was fierce enough to fight her battles) and was able to teach her all she needed to know in order to survive in a society as cruel as her surroundings were shaping her?? pure justice, amazing karma!!

and then we're back to the present, to ji and chan, and the sublime description of the ship. to the introduction of our little insecure boy to the crew, and the voice of his uncle in his head, new to a place were he's safe but not welcomed :((

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

WE LOVE FELIX OMG KAJDHKAJSHDKJSHDKA i was like super serious and suddenly he appears and i'm giggling

andandand changbin's chin scar??? andandand hyune loving fashion and complimenting ji's coat and offering him to sew him some clothes??? andandand ji feeling pretty with his emerald coat??? THE WAIST COMPLIMENT GOT ME MAY andandand hyune being all flirty but LOYAL because apparently he has smth going on with jeongin??? andandand the freedom which they talk about their sexuality that has jisung chocking on his spit??? seungmin being a CARTOGRAPHER??? oh you got me downdowndown bad with this fic may, sosososo bad you can't even imagine

OH AND THE GOSSIP hyunlix knowing smth's off when ji says he felt like minho thought it was his fault captain was mad at minho??? and minho attacking everyone with that attitude of him, the rage he was spilling into his words???

and then jisung's backstory, with all that trauma :(( i'm soso glad he's being roommates with felix, he deserves the tranquility of knowing thta nothing will happen to him. and it also hurts me the fact that minho is so far from the captain, still so on his head about what happened and the figure of ji in their lives now, and then captain just apologizes and he's such a softie for her 🥺

in conclusion, my beautiful may, i know that everyone here has told you this, but because i can only reflect what i read and especially when truth attacks you with such strenght, you have such a way with words. everytime i read somethign of yours, i can just stare at the screen, devouring word by word. but i know this is your baby, and i have to say i'm soso sure this series is going to mark a before and an after.

you make me feel like i'm travelling. suddenly i'm all dressed up, sword tied to my waist, taking orders from our captain and minho, welcoming in jisung to the crew, observing all their stories from the margin, but still in that boat. and you make me want to write about it, this universe, because even if you don't really enjoy pirates (i do) you have to love it, there's no other way. and you make me become addict to the plot, with the way you start narrating everything, and then just stop, a smile curving your lips, like saying "i'm going to leave it here, just wait a little bit... it will be worth it"

and it truly is worth it 🤍

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

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: backstory, jisung is introduced to the crew, the captain and minho have a moment

word count: 7.2k words

warnings: mentions of parent death and pet death (the latter only briefly); attempts at sexual assault; murder; mental health and trauma; nothing graphic! but please be mindful of these warnings!

author's note: aksjdahs thank you so much for all the love on chapter I!!! I swear, this is just the beginning. there is so much more to come. without further ado, have some backstory (check warnings!), jisung meeting the crew, and dramatic man apocalypse minho.

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter I - chapter III >

When you were born, you didn’t cry. They had pulled you from your wailing mother’s womb, and your mouth had stayed stubbornly closed. The midwives had whisked you away in a panic, away from your sobbing mother, into the adjoining room, where they watched you blink up at them and prodded at your slowly purpling cheeks until finally, you had opened your tiny little mouth, your eyes turning into tiny little crescents, and screamed. You often wonder if that was the first time you were the reason for your own downfall, the first time your own actions separated you from those you loved, setting the tone for the rest of your life.

When you were nine, you forgot to give your father your lucky necklace when he left for the sea, and he never returned. For years, you kept the necklace pinned to the wall right next to your bed, where it would be the first thing you saw when you woke up and the last thing you saw before you went to sleep. It was a reminder, a warning to yourself. You never wanted to let yourself forget that you were the reason your father was likely dead at the bottom of the sea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut the fuck up, Jisung, he thinks.

But to his surprise, the beautiful man chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jisung blinks dumbly.

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

Felix gives Seungmin a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who? Minho?” Hyunjin asks, surprised.

Jisung nods.

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

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

Jisung chuckles, mirthlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Felix’s grin widens.

“So … is that a yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

“Align?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can take care of myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain, I– …”

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

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

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

< chapter I - chapter III >

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