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★. ⁺ FINDING VENUS | part 1 - miroh.

pairing: ATEEZ!OT8 x Fem!Reader series summary: In deep, wild space, humanity clung onto its last breath scattered across asteroid outposts, moon-bases, half-terraformed planets, and over-crowded astropolises on gigantic spaceships. Despite it all, you lived and loved aboard the pirate spaceship, the Chrono. Even with the smuggling, pillaging, and feuds of the cutthroats of humanity, it was a peaceful life - one that was familiar, steady, normal. Until one day your crew came across something new, something extraterrestrial that threatened to change your lives forever: an alien named Seonghwa. warnings/tags: Inspired by Ateez’s NASA! Future Space AU, Space Cowboy/Pirate/Smuggler inspirations, Firefly/Star Wars/Alien inspiration, 3rd person POV, use of YN, polyteez, mature topics, strong language, Stray Kids cameo (they are not the best in this fic whoops), sexism/objectification, lovey-dovey fluff, angst, obsessiveness, blasters, poisoning, betrayal, no Seonghwa in this chapter :(, let me know if anything else needs to be tagged. word count: 7.7k, lightly edited. series masterlist -> next chapter read on ao3!

High in the skies, twin-stars burned hot and bright, making the planet feel more like an overheating oven than a livable biosphere. With its ruins of a failed colony and its endless desert, the small moon, Miroh, was a ghost town. And the last place in the ‘verse YN wanted to be.

Even with the shadow of the transport spaceship they called home cast over her, the glare of bright starshine over endless rubble and rocky desert burned her eyes. She wasn’t used to such brightness when used to the fluorescent incandescent lights of a spaceship and never-ending darkness of space. She continued down the rusted gangway towards the terrain. Squinting, she tried to let her eyes adjust even as they splotched with endless white nothingness. Already, the heat here felt as suffocating as the idea of their mission. Sweat beaded at the nape of her neck and dripped down her back.

Her clothes didn’t help. If she had it her way, she’d be in looser clothes, something more breathable for such intense desert heat. Not all black with layers after layers. She missed her favored soft linens and especially the cozy puffer jacket she had left inside the ship at her co-pilot chair. But, the terms of why they were planet-side wasn’t hers and neither were her outfit choices. Everything was necessity. For a reason. There were layers to protect her for a reason. There was tech woven through her clothes for a reason. In her ear, she had a barely detectable in-ear. Beneath her pant hem, on her hip, was a monitor, tracking her movement. Beneath her tank was a bullet-proof vest, shaped so close to her that it was a second skin. Beneath her dark jacket, strapped along her back, was a hidden blaster in a holster.

This was no vacation.

This was work.

Beside her, the cargo was rolled out, crates loudly thudding and thunking as they descended the metallic gangplank down to the uneven ground. She sighed out, her lungs aching at the way the air tasted arid. She coughed.

Yunho, the tallest of her crew, winked as he passed her. He wasn’t dressed like her. No, he was in his familiar garb – a jean jacket overtop a loose tank and workman jeans. His hair was tossled lightly, a smudge of oil on his forehead. She couldn’t help the soft smile crawl onto her previously less-than-pleased face. It was quick to fade though as he turned back to his work, attaching the crates to the large speeder bikes that Jongho had already drove into place.

A few feet away, she heard Hongjoong and Yeosang talk mission stats; Mingi laughed from nearby at something Yunho said. A voice piped up beside her suddenly.

“Are you sure you want to go?” She jumped at San’s sudden appearance beside her.

He was dressed far more comfortable than her; in soft white linens, he looked like some sort of Earth angel of old. His hair was freshly washed, slicked back and drying in the heat. Peeks of his tan skin revealed hints of scars and faded bruises that never seemed to heal fully. He frowned at her, a scar at his brow pulling taut as he furrowed his brow at her in concern.

“You’re distracted.” he added with a pout.

The question made her almost laugh. Did she want to go? The answer was no. She really didn’t. It wasn’t that she disliked the planet Miroh; it was a fine planet. (A bit too desert-y for her taste – but after growing up on a cold planet, most places felt too warm to her. Just like how Wooyoung complained that space was too cold, he was just used to the humid-planet Soprio – even if it had been years since he’d been back to the reddish-orange planet he hailed from.) She just didn’t care for the so-called kingpin here – deals with him and his Strays lately always felt off, always too tangled with too many emotions.

But Hongjoong liked the pay-off. The Strays paid well, yes. But they also liked to push the limits - with Hongjoong, with her crew, and with herself. With all the ‘verse ahead of them, why’d they have to make deals with Strays?

“You know me, Sannie, just getting my land-legs,” she tried to lighten up, tried to ease his worries.

San’s face didn’t soften. Instead, he took a step forward, closer. His mouth opened to say something.

“If you don’t want to go, Peaches, I’d be more than happy to tag along,” the static-y loud voice of Wooyoung in her ear made her shoulders jump in surprise. Not just her, but all of the crew. They all went to adjust their in-ears’ volume to a lower level.

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong scolded. “Some warning when on the comms.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Wooyoung’s voice dramatically whispered in their ears this time. “Woo to Peaches, if you don’t want to go, I can hop into action, over?”

“You don’t want to go?” Yeosang questioned from nearby. His eyes were wide as he took in this new information, blink, blink, blinking.

YN rolled her eyes. “I never said I don’t want to go. Woo just reads into things.”

“Inaccurate – I heard you and Sannie talk last night and—” YN was quick to kick him from the channel with a triple-tap on her in-ear.

“No secrets on this ship,” she bit out, pushing off of the gangplank completely to walk away from San (whose hand was outstretched to her and her name on the tip of his tongue) and towards the mission crew standing by the speeders instead. San followed after, but held back touching her. YN’s arms crossed over her chest with a sigh.

Hongjoong looked like a shadow against the desert sea. In his all-dark gear, criss-crossing holsters and harnesses that did visibly reveal his weaponry and his midnight black hair, she wondered how he wasn’t already sweating under the bright stars. Hongjoong’s gaze was heavy on her, careful in a familiar way. Yeosang leaned back against the speeder, arms crossing, mirroring her, as she approached. Similar to San, Yeosang was dressed far less intense, wearing looser pants in a reddish tan color and an even looser woven sweater that she had found on an outpost asteroid a while back. Despite the gentler fabrics, he was still high-strung – a serious look on his sharp face.

“I’m fine,” she promised them.

“Are you?” Yeosang prompted again.

It wasn’t a judging sort of interrogation but rather a considerate one. Yeosang was deliberate, his words and actions mattered to himself. They were calculated, always. Genuine and thought-out.

“Yes,” she stressed before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “I just want to get done and get off this planet as soon as we can.”

Yeosang’s lips quirked up at the peck, but soon fell back into the sturdy respectful seriousness he had when it came to work and anything Hongjoong. He took his role as First Mate extremely serious.

“She doesn’t like Chan.” Wooyoung piped back in over their in-ears, somehow already back on the channel and listening in. How he was able to manipulate tech so fast she’d never understand?

Her jaw ticked and she tried to control her gaze from jumping to Hongjoong at the mention of the Strays leader.

“Or Hyunjin,” Mingi piped up.

“Or Changbin,” San added as a side note, scratching at his scarred brow. Picking at an old wound.

“Rude; he’s not too bad.” Wooyoung hummed. “We’ve shared plenty of drinks.”

That was the problem, she lamented internally. The fact that they knew the Strays well and yet were still at this point. It made her stomach shift with distress.

“Again, no secrets on this ship,” she huffed before saying to Hongjoong: “I’m fine. I don’t like the Strays we know this”

His jaw flexed as his eyes searched hers, intently. Looking for anything that would suggest otherwise. As much as he trusted his crew, there were some habits one couldn’t break easily. Hongjoong’s was his unrelenting irrational fear of betrayal. Loyalty was everything to him.

Was she telling him the truth? Did he need to usher her to it like a shepherd?

“Joon— Captain,” she corrected; this was a mission after all. “I’m just worried that’s all; you know why; I know why – it’s just them – logically, I’m fine. I just don’t trust the Strays to stay in their lane.”

It wasn’t the first time they’ve talked about this, and knowing the way they did business, it wouldn’t be the last. The Strays always were in need of supplies or were always willing to buy cargo – they were reliable in that way. Not in other ways such as respecting her crew’s decisions.

“Does Wooyoung need to suit up?” Hongjoong asked softly to her. Giving her an out. “Or Sannie?”

“No. No, they don’t. We talked about this; I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll watch my mouth – even if they don’t.”

Wooyoung was too important to have on what should and would be a simple payload. He was needed here to make sure no one locked in on their coordinates. Keep them shielded. (And Wooyoung and Changbin were a bad mix; she didn’t want them to see one another, selfish as it was. She was already annoyed Hongjoong would interact with Chan. She was a pirate who hid away her treasures when she could.)

San was needed here, too; he was their medic, not a fighter. Not anymore. Not if she could help it. She loved him too much to put him into potential danger – even if he’d willingly do so for his crew. San shifted anxiously, eying the mission crew.

Hongjoong didn’t look away from her for a long moment, careful and calculating behind his wide wrap-around glasses. She gave him a small smile, raising up a pinky in promise towards him. It humored him and his demeanor cracked just enough to show the love beneath all the seriousness. He raised his pinky, his fingerless gloved hands brushing hers as he wrapped his phalange around hers.

“Okay, solar-flare,” he conceded. “I trust you.”

She smiled brightly at that and nodded solidly… before leaning forward to press a kiss to his pursed lips. He anticipated it like always and kissed back with a softness that would seem surprising considering their stiff attitudes pre-mission. But Hongjoong did love his crew so much. He pursed his lips to catch her lips twice before she pulled away with a pleased hum. Shifting away after a moment, he sighed out, moving to push back the loose strand of hair from his pony-tailed hairstyle: “Let’s roll out.”

His gaze flickered from YN to Yeosang to Yunho. A sort of confirmation occurred with them all, a different silent conversation with each of them.

“They’re fueled all the way up; trackers are active. That new code Woo worked on should make it harder to latch on to, too,” Yunho relayed as he revved up one of the speeders. “I’ve adjusted their start up time – should be more effective than before.”

Dust spluttered beneath it, and the familiar scent of gasoline was comforting. She wasn’t used to everything smelling like dirt and rock. She was used to their spaceship, their home. Of metal, gasoline, and recycled oxygen.

Yunho pressed a kiss to Mingi’s cheek, whispering a soft word before pointing at Jongho, already hoisting himself up onto a speeder: “Be careful, bear.”

Jongho nodded easily as he adjusted his gloves: “Always am, hyung.”

Yunho said his quiet goodbyes to Hongjoong, earnestly. “We’ll be there in a second – if you need us,” he promised Hongjoong. “Deal be damned.”

“I know, Yunho,” Hongjoong said, patting his back. “It’ll be routine: no surprises, no news lines, no sparks.”

Yunho hoped so as he passed them and beelined to YN. “Be safe, Stardust,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead before adjusting her jacket. “Keep them safe, too.”

“Oh, you know I will, Oppa,” she told him before pressing another kiss to his pout. “Be back soon.”

Yeosang followed after. “My moon-pie is so jealous, so protective,” he teased, cupping her cheeks. His thumbs brushed over her flushed cheeks. Over and over, he’d almost be stimming with her blushed skin. “Chan wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. And Hongjoong would never take it up– not when he’s got you, and me, and Mingi and San, and—" he continued to list all their lovers, with dramatic pauses in between, and it made her giggle.

It was a funny thing to be jealous of others when they were all together - all lovers, all in love. But that had never been a guaranteed; it was just how it had happened; it is different. They were different. They were special. A tiny part of her worried it wouldn’t be just the eight of them, that someone would steal one of them away. Pirates were used to stealing after all. The Strays loved picking up strays or isolating someone until they strayed.

“Hyunjin wouldn’t be able to handle you either, like I’d let you go without a fig – “ Yeosang continued and her giggles grew.

“Ok, ok. Enough teasing; I get it. You’d swoop in, shooting star,” she pouted, pushing at his arm. Yeosang chuckled before swooping in to kiss her on the mouth like he always did before a mission. It wasn’t soft and gentle like the others. Yeosang didn’t do things in halves. He always put all his energy into something, kissing her like it’d be the last time he’d see her. All lips and teeth and a bit of tongue, tasting her just for a moment. A soft sound was drawn out in the back of her throat.

“You’re mine - ours,” he murmured against her lips before pulling away. “See you in a bit.”

“Where’s my kiss?” Jongho teased from his spot atop the speeder.

“Later!” Yeosang winked at him before patting her hips and walking back towards their ship.

The four crew members left by the speeders – Mingi, Jongho, Hongjoong, and YN - called out their goodbyes again, waving towards San, Yunho, and Yeosang before hopping onto the speeder bikes and disappearing into the maze-like valleys of Miroh.

-

The drop-point wasn’t ideal. It was far into the valley. The vast terrain was barren and rocky; scattered throughout the desert were rusted, dust-storm destroyed structures and equipment. Some were tent-like poles; others ship-like contraptions that looked more fit for the ocean than the desert.

It had taken a good while to make it there; one spent in relative silence (other than the humming of their speeders.) With her ear pressed to Jongho’s back, she could hear him humming faintly just for her. They didn’t take breaks – even as the stars high in the sky shifted slowly but surely. The only pause they took was dropping Mingi off at the spot Wooyoung and Yeosang had plotted would be a good vantage point for the deal. Dressed in his browns and tans and his large tech-glasses, he gave a crooked grin and a thumbs up before they were off again.

Now, at the drop-off point, it seemed being an inconvenience was the point. The spot was sunken deep in between large rubble hills and rock formations. Despite being deep in the valley, it felt too exposed. Nothing grew here, only twisted remains of plants and trees. The tall rocky hillsides felt more like entry points for ambush attacks. (If Mingi was already set up in one of overlooks with his sniper blaster; surely, they would have one of theirs set up, too.)

“How much longer?” Jongho mumbled beside her.

The pair of them leaned against the speeder side by side. YN nudged a spare pebble with her foot. Everything was so bland here. Jongho flexed his hands, the leathered seat behind him squeaking. She glanced back to see it was sweat, probably from her. Her face was already hot in the burning sun. Looking over at him, she couldn’t believe he wasn’t sweating through his dark jacket – but Jongho always seemed to handle the world better than she could. Tough as nails, despite his upbringing. As he caught her gaze, his cold glare softened and he smiled at her.

“Take it easy, Hongjo,” they heard Wooyoung through their in-ears. “They’ve got a minute or so left.”

“They better hurry up,” Hongjoong hummed back; his fingers tapped on top of one of the payloads. The crate trembled with a hum, the buttons on the side of it flashing mysteriously for a moment before settling. “I don’t want to move this party elsewhere.”

“That’d be like Chan,” YN muttered. “Luring us into their territory even more.”

Jongho snorted nearby.

“Starling,” Hongjoong warned without glancing away from the horizon.

Her lips quirked into a small smile as she shifted, resting her hip against the side of the bike; Jongho snickered.

“Sorry, Captain. I’ll play nice.” she promised.

“Incoming. Northside,” Wooyoung warned in the ears. “Three transports – all SKZ-Classes. They’re coming.”

SKZ-Class Transports were a low-riding hovercraft, created by the Strays’ own mechanic. Who that exactly was YN wasn’t so sure – Chan liked to keep a close lock-and-key on what was his. She may know the faces and laughter, but she didn’t know them. Not really. His Strays were his.

They flew in through the valley’s gulch ahead. It wasn’t all of them thankfully – at least, not all of the ones she knew of. Faintly, she remembered Chan bragging about the pack of “pretty ones” that he kept to himself. It made her shiver. She moved to stand beside Hongjoong, who shifted to stand front and center. Arms tucked into his jacket’s pockets, standing strong and wide stanced as he waited.

Chan stood at the helm of the leading hovercraft with bravado. Dressed in a tight fit black long-sleeved, the sun seemed to beam off of him. His hair was to his neck, but clean across his forehead in sharp cuts. His neck bore his old dog tags, gleaming with that holographic tinge they had but glitching out from what she assumed disarming the trackers inside. His gaze was dark, chin held high. A hand rested at his waist, tapping his belt.

The driver looked to be his second-in-command, Changbin, rippling with muscles. The duo, Chan and Changbin, always were fit, but somehow, with how long it had been, they both were more muscular. Changbin’s bare arms gleamed with new tattoos, maze-like images that criss-crossed. A symbol like a star was there too.

One of the transports held the third-in-command, Jisung with his smiles and greediness, and what she had come to know as the half-feral youngest, Jeongin. The other had the brooding Seungmin with his glares and the ever-intense Hyunjin.

Hyunjin had cut his hair since last time she had seen him, shaved it clean off until it was nothing but a prickly buzzcut. Shockingly different from the other Strays and undeniably interesting since with a glance at the other Strays – none had trimmed their own hair. She remembered Felix’s hair had been long last time she had seen him, blonde hair tumbling close to his shoulders. It must’ve been even longer now.

Between sips of homebrewed liquor, Felix had whispered to her back then that Chan liked long hair. (She was thankful her Captain no longer had his mullet, but instead a shaved undercut with his dark hair tied up.)

Hyunjin was hopping out of the ship before it even slowed, hitting the ground running like some sort of predator. He grinned – or bared his teeth – at them. Jongho shifted beside her, hand resting on his belt, close to his blaster. She watched as Hyunjin crept close to Chan’s ship as it came to stop. A protective prowl was to his stance, more animalistic than she remembered. It gave her the creeps.

Chan patted the other’s shoulder before hopping out of the transport himself.

“Hongjoong, what’s up, bro?”

Chan always greeted them far too casually for her liking.

Hongjoong though was the epitome of a Captain, shifting easily to find the charismatic mirror he needed to charm his way through the interaction. His shoulders eased a bit and he grinned back. He nodded his chin at Hongjoong in greeting, approaching to grasp his forearm in greeting before tugging him in to hug him.

YN tried to hold in the grimace.

“It’s been too long, Chris,” Hongjoong said.

The way he used his name – something given in private - rather than title Chan made her cross her arms. The youngest Stray crowed out a laugh, having kept his fox-like gaze on her. Her brows settled into a furrow as she glared at him. It seemed to amuse him even more, smiling with his teeth as he watched her with a tilted head.

“Watch it, baby.” She heard Wooyoung warn in the comm. “You’re lacking the ‘non’ in nonchalant.”

She glanced away with that; Jongho’s nose twitched she noticed.

Chan glanced back at his member firmly; Jeongin quickly stifled his laughter, glancing aside. Their leader looked back at Hongjoong, smiling and patting his shoulder friendly-like.

“It has been. I was surprised to get your message. You haven’t reconsidere-“

Chan couldn’t even get his words out before Hongjoong interrupted: “We got a good payload and thought of you. I think it’d be useful for you and your crew.”

Chan laughed, the thing something rumbling like a tiger’s chuff.

“Not exactly a crew anymore,” Chan replied, almost bashfully. “Been growing larger now – Strays come from all around the ‘verse after all. We’ve gone from seven to a small township.”

Quick, Hongjoong’s arm swept around Chan’s shoulders, easily with their height difference. Almost immediately, three of the Stray cocked their blasters. The sound was like the crack of lightning. Seungmin was aiming at Jongho; Jeongin was pointing his sniper at Hongjoong; Hyunjin’s pretty decorated blaster was targeted on her. Jongho had his blaster out already from his holster, retaliation-aimed at Seungmin before adjusting to aim at Jeongin. Eyes locked on Hyunjin’s, her fingers were at the hem of her tank, ready to reach for hers before she heard Chan’s cleared throat. It was then she glanced away from her opponent to look to her Captain; Hyunjin growled, audibly.

YN met Hongjoong’s eyes; waiting, searching. His lips were curled into a smile, light-hearted evenly. His arm was still slung around the other’s shoulders. YN let out a small breath, fingers not quite lowering from their spot. He didn’t seem concerned yet, just smiling ruefully.

“Hey guys,” Chan scolded, glancing back at his crew. Too casual. “We’re all friends, yeah?”

Hyunjin’s lips twitched reluctantly as he lowered his blaster’s aim; YN did smile now. Snarky.

Slowly, the other Strays obeyed. Jongho lowered his, but didn’t holster it. YN’s blaster felt too far away, hidden at the small of her back. She went to sling her thumb into the belt loop of her pants instead, cocking her head. Her gaze flickered from each of the Strays, watching carefully.

“Show me the cargo,” Chan encouraged Hongjoong. The duo walked towards the speeders and Jongho and YN.

“Hello YN, Jongho.” A part of her appreciated the acknowledgement. During most deals they were either ignored or threatened. The last of humanity in Deep Space weren’t especially humane. Chan was – until he wasn’t. She knew that. Chan may not be a true space pirate anymore after he settled as make-shift king of Miroh, he still acted like one. And all pirates did was take, take, and take. Takes one to know one.

“Chan,” she acknowledged simply. Polite.

“Still pretty as a snowdrop I see.” He looked her up and down.

“Hmm, I might see where you were coming from, Peaches,” she heard Wooyoung in her ear, like a personal angel (or devil) on her shoulder.

She tilted her head towards the crates instead. Holding her quips back as Hongjoong appraised her from the other leader’s side.

“Still just as frosty, too, it seems,” Chan said under his breath.

“She’s a space girl- not so fond of being planet-side,” Hongjoong excused.

It was a lie; she just didn’t like them anymore.

“I know – I remember you saying how you couldn’t bear to leave the skies either,” Chan reiterated with a tut.

“Vessel-born through and through,” Hongjoong joked, redirecting from his woman and himself. Instead, he gestured to the payload.

“Now, just as promised,” he opened one of the crates; the vacuum seal hissed as it released. “Still-sealed, non-perishable first-Earth food. We looked through it, no damages as far as we can see.” Hongjoong pitched.

Inside the crate were at least 100 pouches of package food – meats, vegetables, and fruits. Their silver-foiled packages gleamed like silver bars in the burning suns.

Chan whistled low. “Earth food, that is a rarity. I wonder if –,“ he paused, eyeing one of the packages, “ – chicken raised on the first world tastes the same as chicken caged on some asteroid outpost?” He chuckled.

“Depends on how long it’s been dead,” Seungmin commented from aside.

“These were treated when sealed,” Hongjoong added. “We ran the codes from an old NASA manual; they can’t degrade.”

“Bold claim,” Hyunjin added.

“It’s science,” she countered with a squint of her eyes in his direction.

Hyunjin once upon a time would match her snideness but now he almost thrived off of it. He was drawn in closer, magnetically so towards her. The smile on his lips was a predator’s. Like a wolf hunting down prey.

“Can we do a taste-test?” Hyunjin taunted.

“No free samples,” YN retorted.

He bit at the air, towards her with a snap of his jaw. She pulled a face and glanced away, more annoyed than frightened.

“Same quantity in the other one?” Chan asked, ignoring the way his crew seemed to buzz with energy.

“Total of 400 pouches,” Jongho confirmed, passing YN.

His eyes met hers in a silent conversation of shut up. It was easy for him – he’s was quieter around people he didn’t know. That’s how so many of their clients knew him – the strong silent one. Despite the fact, he was anything but that on the ship. Jongho was quick to open it at the direction of Hongjoong.

Inside was the same sort of pouches as the first cargo load. Food names such as apple puree, beef steak, ramen noodles, chopped spinach, and Roma tomatoes were written in aged Sharpie, shiny packaged on this date stickers and the emblem of a government of a time gone by. (YN briefly wondered where Roma was.)

Seungmin was quick to come over and look through it with the careful precision she knew he had. He nodded at Chan, seriously.

“Hm,” Chan hummed, cracking his neck thoughtfully. “A lot of good product you’ve got- not taking any for yourselves?”

Hongjoong smiled, a laugh in his throat. “Pros of having Wooyoung on board.”

“Ah yeah, he was from a farming planet, wasn’t he?” Changbin pitched in from aside. He hadn’t moved from his spot aboard the transport, solid as a statue as he held his blaster at attention.

“Useful.” Chan remarked. A beat. “Not that useful on a ship of yours,” he continued, pointing at Hongjoong curiously. “You don’t have the configuration for farming on that Hourglass class ship, huh? We’re starting to terraform here – trying to break ground. Would he –”

“He is useful,” Hongjoong interrupted. She could hear the way the words were getting sharper in his mouth. “Knows where to go, what to get for our crew. That’s why he’s my Navigator. He’s no scientist.”

“No scientist? I know plenty of-“ Wooyoung had begun to bicker back in their ears before he was cut off. Most likely Yeosang took control.

Chan glanced back to the food-stuff before raising his gaze to look at Hongjoong a beat longer. A silent conversation lingered. The make-shift king observed the payload again. She watched his jaw click, his tongue pressing into his cheek.

“Won’t say no to a good bargain – and this is one.” Chan muttered. “The same number of credits as discussed?”

“Aye,” Hongjoong nodded.

Chan rubbed his finger over his lips thoughtfully, looking over the payload one last time, before nodding. Pointing at Hongjoong agreeingly, he commanded: “Jisung, pay the good Captain.”

“Jongho and YN, help move the cargo,” Hongjoong demanded.

They were quick and efficient – even when Seungmin, Jeongin, and Hyunjin came to assist. Jongho wasn’t obvious with how he kept an eye on Hyunjin as he swaggered closer to YN. She glared at the man as he grabbed his edge of the crate, huddled closer to her. They lifted the crate within a few moments, shifting together, and lowering it on the closest transport. She huffed out with the action; Hyunjin leaned closer, sweeping in.

“Still a no, snowdrop?” Hyunjin hummed from beside her. “We’d take care of you – I would.” He leaned in sniffing at her loose hair, too animalistic for comfort.

She glared, remembering her promise to Hongjoong. She’d watch her tongue, biting it as she watched his eyes burn as they took her in. He reached out to tug at a lock of hair now, pulling it playfully. Next time (if there was a next time), she’d wear her hair up.

“I saw that,” Mingi murmured in her ear from miles away. “Fucker.”

“So quiet, are you afraid?” Hyunjin taunted lowly, following after her as she turned to help with the other crate. “Is it the hair? It’ll grow back.” (Interesting that he focused on that. She wondered if it was his choice or Chan’s. So much of what they did was controlled by him.)

“I don’t bite - much.” Hyunjin continued.

Seungmin snorted nearby, rolling his eyes.

“Chan’ll be pissed if he hears you,” Seungmin reminded Hyunjin. Their gaze flickered to the quiet, finagling conversation between leaders with Jisung nearby counting out credits. “Again.”

All he did was laugh lowly, a hand raising to rub at the back of his buzz-cut head as he looked over at Chan. “Like that’s ever stopped me.” Hyunjin retorted offhandedly before looking at her, hip pressing against the crate. “C’mon, YN. We’re old friends, huh?”

“Friends don’t sell friends out when they’re pissed off,” she replied under her breath to him; she didn’t glance back at her own Captain.

Hyunjin laughed at that – under his own breath, low and airy. He may be cocky, but, in the same breath, he knew their conversation was intended to stay between them– not their leaders. “Sore about that, still. You know we’d keep you safe from bounties if anything came about it.”

They wouldn’t. If she wasn’t a Stray, they wouldn’t give a shit. If she were a Stray… they’d keep her locked up. There was a difference. Too many words flooded through her brain, retorts that would cut and slice and curse-words from across the galaxy. The blaster on her back was heavy. She watched the mirth fill Hyunjin’s hungry eyes.

“YNie, you can’t seriousl-“

Jongho was quick to come to her side of the crate this time, a hand going to her hip reassuringly solid. He didn’t even seem angry, just composed as he interrupted with a powerful silence. “The other box.” He said simply.

He led them to begin moving the secondary crate – which they followed. And despite his disdain for physical affection, Jongho’s arm wrapped around her shoulders afterwards, obvious and clear as he stared brazenly at the Strays nearby.

“Thanks,” Jongho stated. His tongue prodded his cheek, not at all thankful, before he began to lead her and him away.

“Let’s go, baby.” He said it just loud enough for the others to hear.

(She couldn’t remember if anyone knew of their affections – sure Wooyoung was touchy, but he was touchy with everyone. The crew typically knew to keep their distance on missions. Even at after-mission get togethers, Hongjoong warned them to be aware.)

The youngest of her crew didn’t say anything more as he sauntered back to the speeders, glare heavy on the others. (Jongho knew she was trying her best to remain on Hongjoong’s good-side; Jongho never made such promises. And what was so bad showing the ‘verse what was theirs?)

“Thank you, Jjongie,” Yeosang whispered into just his ear.

Jisung was counting out the holographic credits one by one into Hongjoong’s palm.

“Almost done now,” she heard Mingi comment quiet in their ears.

“5 million credits,” Jisung finalized.

“A pretty penny,” Chan commented. “For a pretty Captain.”

Hongjoong felt the burn of disrespect at the back of his neck. His lips twitched into a sort of snarl. Chan was none the wiser it seemed. Instead, he crept closer to the Captain.

“I want to extend my invitation again.” Chan prompted, trying to reiterate his offers. “Stay. I’ve been building up a township – proper.”

“And I’ll say it again – my home is space. I have no want to go planet-side for long-term. Especially when there is so much treasure out there in the ‘verse,” Hongjoong replied, his tone somehow remaining placating, charismatic despite his refusal.

Chan frowned nonetheless, an angry thing that was more furrowed brow and sneer, before trying to find his mask once more.

“How about—”

“Pleasure doing business, Chris.” Hongjoong instead said, pocketing the credits into his pocket.

Chan gritted his teeth. He hated disrespect. But he valued the monetary relationship too much to let his fancies blind him – for now. They just got enough rations to last weeks. No pretty bodies to warm their beds, but food to warm their bellies was a fair trade.

“Likewise.” Chan let out before flashing that charming smile. He leant in closer as if sharing a secret. “Let me know when you change your mind, Hongjoong. You and your sweet winter flower are welcome on Miroh.”

(And it wasn’t a secret. They all knew of Chan’s picking and choosing of who’d remain if he had his way. He’d take the woman – his crew hadnt had any for so long. He’d take the Captain – he liked the domination. And he’d take the ones with irrefutable skills – Wooyoung.)

“And Woo,” Changbin added out with a curled lip, proving YN’s train of thought. “He could bring Sannie if he really wanted.”

It was said too casual, too much of an inevitable rather than an option. It made her arms prickle with disdain. She did roll her eyes as she turned away to mount the speeder bike behind Jongho. Her arms wrapped around his waist securely.

“Goodbye, Chris.”

“Goodbye, Captain.”

“Be sure to pick up Mingi on your way out.” Seungmin deadpanned.

And with that, the deal was sealed and the two gangs departed.

-

“Welcome home!”

Yeosang was the first to welcome them back with a smile. They had booked it back to the spaceship, barely slowing down for Mingi to sling himself onto Hongjoong’s speeder. There was a tension, more like a frustration brewing. Hongjoong was gritting his teeth. YN was pressing her cheek into Jongho’s shoulder the entire ride home, holding him close. Mingi was anxious something would go wrong. (He hated that they had known where he was, on his belly a mile away with his rifle blaster aimed right at them. It unsettled him.)

“I hate the Strays.” YN said simply as she stalked up towards the bottle-blonde and into the safety of their ship.

“It’s all over with. Let’s just get out of here,” Yunho encouraged, sauntering over after wiping his hands with a spare rag. Almost immediately, he was sucked into Mingi’s orbit who despite his height, despite his deadly accuracy with his rifle, and despite his imposing voice, he curled into Yunho’s embrace. Head tucking just a bit to rest underneath Yunho’s chin. Yunho squeezed him, reassuringly.

“I get what YN was on about,” he mumbled. It was for a different reason, and yet it was a similar intent. Insecurity was a hell of a rival.

“I don’t know how they tracked Mingi,” Wooyoung commented from aside, still looking over his specs. “None of the sensors went off.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Hongjoong encouraged as they locked up the speeder bikes with ease.

Their Captain was moving this way and that, still in work mode despite his crew slacking. Jongho nearby did a final lookout before pressing the button to close the gangway. Yeosang moved quickly up the ramp as it shut, hopping into the middle of their ship’s cargo hold with a clunk.

His arms crossed as the First Mate took in the state of his crew. Safe in their ship, that was the first thing he checked off.

Yeosang did a quick count – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 including himself. He smiled to himself, a mixture of relief and pleased tumbling through his veins. Everything was as it should be. His family was safe.

San was talking to YN softly as he helped her take off her holster, the woman rolling her eyes as she agreed to his questions; Yunho and Mingi had peeled away from their embrace and went to stow their weapons.

“Let’s get out of here,” Hongjoong muttered. There was an energy buzzing off of him that Yeosang couldn’t quite place. Sometimes his Captain’s anger looked like adrenaline or vice-versa. But as he continued to talk to himself, Yeosang could tell it was anger.

“They think they rule this spit of land and anyone who lays foot on dirt. Let them; we’ve got the whole universe for us. We’ll never… ever be under their boot.” Hongjoong began to weave through the halls, his shoes clanking against the grated flooring.

Yeosang, YN, and San were quick to follow after him – after all, their ship needed a co-pilot for most travel. And YN was the best co-pilot out of the bunch. Still San’s fingers were still deftly untying her bullet-proof vest as they walked along. Yeosang was quick to match his Captain’s pace until they were side-by-side.

“Can we not deal with them in the future, Joong?” YN lamented as she hopped over the bulkhead door into the hallway to the Bridge.

“They disrespected you,” Yeosang added quietly. “Is it in our best interests to keep putting us through it? You through it.”

Yeosang knew Hongjoong the longest – he knew what were sore spots for him and he could see this bruised ego getting poked and prodded more and more would only lead to trouble. (And it was a bruised ego despite Hongjoong’s calm demeanor in the moment.).

Hongjoong laughed, a lilting thing that made San’s brow raise as they came to a stop inside the Bridge. The wide glass windows looking out at the planet were dust speckled from the landing. The Captain’s Chair with its worn leather, well-loved and well-taken care of, wasn’t empty for long. Its owner plopped down in it with a thud.

“But then who else would we be able to sell off bad cargo to for full-price, Sangie?” Hongjoong replied, offhandedly.

The crew blinked.

“Bad cargo?” YN repeated as she settled down in the co-pilot chair across from Hongjoong. She scooted forward.

His smile curled on his face, something familiar. Playful and sharp like the zing of a lemon. He was quick to press the start-up buttons for their ship, the entirety of it rumbling to life as the engines kicked on.

“You think I come to them with well wishes, starling?” Hongjoong questioned. “After how they treated you and me?”

He laughed again.

“The food-stuff was expired. Sort of.”

“What do you mean by sort of?” San prompted, brows pursing.

“Irradiated was the term Yeosang found on the original loot,” Hongjoong commented. “Sure, sealed and unopened packages – just with the risk of hundreds of years of radiation.”

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk. He glanced over at his crew. “If he’s clever he’d double check – I’m sure Minho will once they get back to their sandcastle kingdom. If not,” he shrugged. “Their problem, not ours.”

“Fuck Joong, we gotta get the hell out of here,” YN breathed, a hint of panic trickling in. She began prepping the engines for full-power flow.

“Chan’s going to be pissed,” San agreed. “Wooyo’s got to keep an eye out for retaliation.”

San was quick to rush out, metal grating clanking against his weight as he ran.

“We made good time; they couldn’t have locked onto us or found out yet,” Hongjoong muttered, flicking a switch with a snap. “He needed a lesson – we’re not friends, we’re not his. We’re allies at the best of times and pirates at the worst. He should’ve never approached us to combine crews, and, after Hyunjin and Chan’s pass on YN, they should’ve been respectful instead of placing a bounty on her head with the IGPS.”

That very bounty poster was pinned to the nearby metal wall of the Bridge. Her face digitalized poorly, but still a sort of image with a heady bounty printed beneath her name. Mingi had ripped this down from a bar on an asteroid outpost. It had been torn away with an edge of panic before Hongjoong and Yunho had calmed him. They kept it as a reminder to be more careful – that she needed to be more careful.

But at the realization of his actions, a flood of adoration roared through her.

“You both knew,” YN stated.

Yeosang leaned on her co-pilot chair, suave in an unintentional way and yet he replied, intentionally, “Yes.”

“Oh.”

Despite the previous ire in his voice, Hongjoong’s lips curled up in that mischievous way when he heard her voice lilt softly – even as he kept his eyes on the controls, tapping on this button and that to initiate take off. YN glanced at Yeosang who’s eyes were lighting up knowingly as she tugged on a lever, standing up from her spot. Silently, he slipped into her spot so she could cross the small space to her Captain.

“Hongjoongie,” she sing-songed as she slid herself into his lap. His lips continued to curl up like a pleased cat.

“Captain, my Captain,” she continued with a soft hum. Her arms slung around his neck, shifting so he could still see the controls he needed to be mindful of. Her fingers fiddled with the hair at the nape of neck. His skin was still warm from being outside.

“My cosmos.” She turned to press a kiss to the base of his neck. That tender spot that made his eyes roll.

“Baby-babe,” he drawled back in reply, a hint of a whine in his tone.

He didn’t fight her antics, simply adjusted her on her throne. His lips continued to curl into a grin, something prideful. Yeosang pressed the next series of buttons as they lifted up into the air with some shaking of their home. The Captain took hold of the steering wheel. Hongjoong’s unoccupied hand went to grasp at her thigh, holding her steady. She pulled back after a moment, their eyes meeting. Hers sparkled with stars.

“You love me,” she teased softly.

Hongjoong spluttered a bit at her declaration. “Was that up for debate? Of course, I love you.” He replied, smiling up at her.

Her face was beautiful through his eyes – even with the dust from Miroh in her hair, the faint gleam of sweat, and half-undressed from the mission. His eyes danced from her to the lift-off screens. These two very important things needed his attention.

“You love me,” she sang again, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You did that for me.” She pressed another kiss to his other cheek.

“I did,” he hummed as his hand left the control panel to pat her back. “I’ll always protect you. You should know that by now.”

Her head dipped to rest on his shoulder, arms sliding to hug him tighter. Hongjoong was quick to initiate the next sequence for lift-off. They were accelerating now, going higher and higher. A warning sounded, mentions of gravity-changes that was little more than background noise to the well-experienced crew. Changes in gravity was common place. Sometimes if they had more float in their step, they didn’t even notice. Hongjoong’s arm kept her secure. Yeosang fastened his own seatbelt as he watched a screen, monitoring levels.

“I don’t know – with the money and the history…” she trailed off quietly to him.

“There is more to treasure than credits, starling,” he reassured, rubbing her back.

He wouldn’t let harm come to his crew – intentionally. Missions were necessity, something that they put careful thought into (hence, the intense gear that she despised on hot planets). But now, Chan would be thrown off; they’d be less appealing to deal with. That meant there was a compromise. They’d just need to make these credits last a bit longer than usual before they find their next deal.

He thought heading back towards more inhabited space would be best. Maybe swing by Solar System 117 or the Cromer Constellation, but the weight on his lap reminded him of the new precautions he’d need to consider. YN. Her safety. The idea of a bounty wasn’t unusual – Hongjoong had one already. He was careful though with his treasures. The typical flight path to both planetary systems was high traffic. He wondered if they could go in a different way. He’d talked to Wooyoung later. That was a problem for later. Now, all he wanted to do was make sure they made it to space safely.

“I love you.” She said into his neck, and he squeezed her lovingly.

“Love you,” he murmured back, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

In front of them, the skies went from a pale blue to an aurora of pink and blue. Soon, hazy clouds blocked their view, frosting their windows for a moment. YN reached out to flip a switch for Hongjoong. Their ship adjusted to the forces, metal creaking and steam hissing throughout its industrial veins. She reached out, still on Hongjoong’s lap to press an urgently beeping button at her (the co-pilot’s) terminal for Yeosang who smiled at her. Soon, the deep blues bled into space black. Distant stars sparkled and winked at them as the ship jolted as it entered a different orbit. Onto the next journey aboard the Chrono.

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