[xdjville]

⤷ take a chance, baby, let's take a chance

yuqi 雨琪 she/her 04' multistan

ults! nct xiao dejun lee ten day6 kim younghyun p1h yoon keeho tbz bae jacob the rose ot4

likes! mornings coffee dance biology everything cherry

#(req status): open

#masterlist #req rules

please note that this is a side blog (my inactive main blog is @letsnotdoanything), so if you see a like or follow from that account, it's me!

⤷ in for more?

#yuqi's priv time #yuqi's biases #yuqi's ults

[xdjville]

mean dom taeyang headcanons anyone…?

tysm for requesting anon!! hope you'll like it 🫶

ps. i apologize for the person i was when i wrote this (i'm ovulating)

cw: nsfw, implied afab reader, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation, degradation, dumbification, spitting

let me just say i absolutely love mean dom theo

in ways that are damaging to my feminism

anyways

this is his default state

i've said it before but i think theo's usually a mean dom and very occasionally a bratty sub

but when he's domming it's not for the weak

he's mean mean

nothing to deliberately hurt you (verbally ;)) but genuinely just nasty stuff

gets off of humiliation and degradation in any form

i can see him making you do embarrassing things just to see you squirm

if he's fingering you he'll make you lick his fingers clean and he'll finger-fuck your mouth until he's satisfied

tells you to open your mouth and then spits on your tongue

"you like it, don't you? you're so fucking gross."

goes feral when he fucks you while your make up is still on and it smudges from your tears

pounds into you from behind while you're bent over, his hand pressing your face into the sheets as he watches you drool

lots of hair pulling

i can see him being into some bondage and sensory play

cuffs your hands to the bed or behind your back and puts a blindfold on you

loves watching you struggle and tug on the binds uselessly

maybe some ice or candles for temperature play too

likes it when you're loud, no matter if someone else is home or not

"louder. i said louder."

sometimes when he feels extra mean he'll put you on top and make you bounce on his cock to make yourself cum on your own while he lays there with his arms behind his head

"oh, you're tired already? i thought you said to wanted to cum?"

not the biggest fan of face-fucking but he'll do it sometimes, usually if it's post-argument sex or if he's frustrated in general

lays you down on the edge of the bed while he stands next to it and fucks into you while holding your legs together or over his shoulders

lets him thrust deep and knead your tits at the same time

not huge on marking but i can see him leaving a few hickeys here and there, especially around your boobs or pelvis where no one else can see them

overstimulation and dumbification too

the mean words mixed with oversensitivity after multiple orgasms are just so much it makes you sob

"look at you... poor baby. is it too much?"

he says that while he continues to rub your clit mercilessly and holding you down so you can't escape

if he gets especially rough that night he is a sweetheart with aftercare though

cleans you up and makes sure you're hydrated before he dozes off himself </3

#taglist ➼♡ @boptak @leleluvrs @megusiasworld @starrystarryung

ㅡ comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

©xdjville

[xdjville]

p1harmony and aftercare

cw: mature content - mentions of sex (no descriptions), not proofread

author's note: i've been super tired today but i've had this in my drafts for a while so there you go <3 i might post something a bit longer tomorrow or the day after!

#keeho

keeho likes to be ready in advance. he has all the things you might need stored in the bedside drawer - wet wipes, tissues, snacks, a water bottle, even earbuds and a book in case either of you feels like it. likes to listen to music with you two wind down, taking turns adding songs to the queue and just being in each other's presence while you cuddle - one of his arms around your shoulders and the other one either on your waist, thigh, or ass. might talk a bit if he's not too spent, but what he loves most is a slow post-sex make out session, that may or may not lead to another round, depending on the mood.

#theo

doesn not want to move at all. if you need to pee or want to clean up then suck it up, because he's not getting out of the bed any time soon. he wraps his arms around you tightly, not even budging at your protests and attempts to push him away. nuzzles his face into your neck like a cat, humming and whispering quiet praises in that low voice as he presses soft kisses against your collarbones and shoulders. his hands stay either around your waist or on your breasts, fingers drawing absentminded shapes on your skin as he slowly falls asleep.

#jiung

the king of aftercare. goes out of his way to make sure you're okay and comfortable after everything that's happened, cleaning you up with a damp towel and helping you into your pajamas. brings you cool water to drink and snacks in case you're hungry, takes off your make up if you haven't done that before you two got at it, brushes the tangles out of your hair with his fingers as he hugs you against his chest, letting you come down from your highs while talking about his day in a soft voice and adding in little jokes to hear you laugh.

#intak

intak puts his all into the sex itself, so there isn't much more left for the after. he needs a moment to catch his breath and come back to his senses, usually while splayed out on his stomach and with his face burried in the pillows. then he's all up for cuddling, either draping himself over you and burrying his face in your chest if he was in a subby mood or wrapping his arms around you and holding you close if he was being more dominating. he doesn't want to get up but he does love doing things for you, so if you ask him for anything he'll drag himself out of bed without complaint - but he just really, really hopes you won't ask. he's up on his feet in seconds if you offer to shower together though.

#soul

very soft and loving. soul just wants to keep you close after sex, doesn't matter in what way - he's cool with being the little or the big spoon, holding you or letting you hold him, talking or silent, as long as he doesn't have to leave you for too long. he'll let you go to the bathroom if you need to, but showering is only an option if he can come with. especially loves it when you run your fingers through his hair gently, kissing his lips softly in between whispers and hushed, lovesick giggles.

#jongseob

aftercare with jongseob is calm and quiet, in a very grounding and comforting way. he keeps the same playlist as during sex but lowers the volume, holding you against him and letting his hands explore your bare body all over again. he asks how you're feeling and if you need anything, then tells you how good he felt and how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, overflowing with feelings during that tranquil moment of peace. the moment usually doesn't last too long though, because he falls asleep within minutes, snoring softly into your hair.

#taglist ➼♡ @suzayaaa @boptak @leleluvrs @megusiasworld

ㅡ comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

©xdjville

[xdjville]

sensitive

synopsis: it’s about time jiung realises that his self-destructive tendencies don’t only harm himself.

— requested by anon

pairing: jiung x fem!reader

genre: angst, hurt/no comfort

words: 2k

cw: swearing, yelling

author’s note: oh anon i love you for sending in that request right when i’m in a more angsty mood <3 this is related to my p1harmony’s red flags post, based off of the prompt from the ask. let me know your thoughts after reading!

it's been days since you’ve had a normal conversation with jiung.

he's always been the type of person who puts his all into his work, and his passion is a big part of why you fell in love with him in the first place. it was obvious to you that dating an idol wouldn't be easy - you were prepared for the long periods of distance, and you promised yourself that you would never stand between him and his job. 

but in the whirlwind of work in preparations for their nearing comeback, jiung has slowly disappeared. 

you've seen him only a handful of times over the past few weeks - he's always at the studio or back in his dorm to work some more after clocking out. at first, he'd call you, telling you that he's sorry for leaving you alone again and promising that he'd make it up to you after the promotions are over. and everytime you'd tell him that it's fine, that you understand and he shouldn't be worrying about this on top of everything else, as you pushed down the disappointment growing inside you. you believed him, and you waited.

but then jiung stopped calling. he stopped telling you when he would come home and when he'd stay somewhere else for the night. he started texting you less and less, stopped asking you aout how you’re doing, to the point where you think you wouldn't talk at all if it wasn't for you reaching out yourself. you've been staying up late every night in case he comes back home to you - and on the rare days when he does it's always the same old song, where he makes a beeline from the entrance door to the kitchen to eat some kind of microwave dinner, then takes a quick shower and goes straight to sleep, dodging your questions and attempts to start a conversation. on those nights when you do manage to get him to talk, wanting connect at least a little bit to soothe the loneliness growing in your chest, his responses are single-worded and dry, like he doesn't even want to waste the little energy he has left on talking to you. 

it hurts. not only to be treated like this, but also to see him in this state - exhausted, overwhelmed, with bags under his eyes that get darker every time you see him, floating around like a ghost of the man you fell in love with.

so when he comes home today, you try again. it’s well past eleven when you hear the sound of the front door being unlocked, followed by a quiet thump of his bag against the floor and dragged footsteps towards the direction of your kitchen. you stay inside your bedroom for a bit longer, ear pressed against the door as you wait for the low buzz of the microwave to echo through the halls before making your way there. 

the sight you’re greeted with when you peek around the corner never fails to break your heart – jiung leaning on his arms against the kitchen island, head hanging low and eyes closed like he’s half asleep already, the tired lines on his face making him look at least a couple years older than he actually is. 

your feet shuffle against the floor as you slowly walk up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. you try your best to ignore the way he flinches at the contact at first instead of melting into it.

“hey, ji,” you murmur against his hoodie, keeping your voice gentle.

“hey, angel,” jiung turns around in your hold as he greets you back, and rests his palms on your shoulders. the term of endearment slips out of his lips like a habit, making the corners of your lips curl upwards slightly. the voice he speaks with is low and a bit raspy, the recordings and interviews clearly taken a toll on him.

“how are you doing?” you query, even though you’re already expecting what the answer will be. you still dare to hope this time it’ll be different.

but it’s not. he tilts his head in the same way as always, giving you the same tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “i’m okay. just tired.”

“yeah, i can see that,” a sigh leaves your lips at the familiar evasion. you reach out to gently rush a strand of hair off his forehead, still slightly damp with sweat from his practice. “you haven’t come back for the night yesterday, did you stay in the studio or..?”

you can feel jiung immediately bristling at your prying, his muscles tightening where your arms are still wrapped around him, “yes, i was in the studio. like i’ve been for the past two weeks.”

“oh, uh– okay. i was just wondering since you didn’t text me or anything…” you recoil a little at the sharp edge in his tone. you can see he’s getting agitated, and you assume that something must’ve happened at work or that the stress is finally catching up to him. either way, you don’t want this to blow up, so you soften your voice and choose your next words carefully. “you know, i was thinking that maybe you should take the evening off tomorrow? i know you could use the rest, and i thought we could visit that restaurant i told you–”

“we have a practice tomorrow,” jiung cuts you off. you frown slightly, noticing how he’s not meeting your gaze anymore.

“that’s okay, i think the place is open until pretty late–”

“i’m not coming here tomorrow. i have work to do, you know that,” he interrupts you again. 

this time the way he doesn’t even let you finish speaking makes your blood run slightly hotter. your arms unwrap from around him before crossing on your chest, your next words coming out firmer, “yes, jiung, i know you have work. but i can see how tired you are, and i miss you. besides, it’s just one evening, it’s not going to make that much of a difference, is it?”

your insistence and clear agitation only seem to irk him more, as he rolls his eyes so deep it’s almost obnoxious, “the album comes out in four days, of course it’s going to make a difference. i can’t start slacking off now.”

“i’m not saying you should start slacking off. i just wish you would take care of yourself more and maybe spend some time with me. i barely even see you these days.” your voice starts to waver slightly as you struggle to keep your calm against his stubbornness. you’re really can’t fathom why he’s so dead set on self-destructing and acting like a martyr for the sake of his job. 

“oh god– can you please stop treating me like a fucking child? i know what i’m doing, okay? i don’t have time for any of that,” the way jiung’s voice starts to rise makes you tense right away. he’s never been the one to talk to you like that, and it only makes your resolve harden in return, your words coming out faster and sharper.

“you don’t have time for any of what? for being home? for rest? for me?” you throw your arms out, letting them fall limp to your sides, your eyebrows creasing. “jiung, i don’t even know what you’re up to anymore. i’ve talked to jongseob more times in the past days than i have talked to you! is it so wrong that i want you to come home to me for the night?”

it looks like jiung’s on edge now. he seethes, hissing the words through his clenched teeth, his shoulders tight and hands curled into fists, “we talked about this. this is my job and it’s important to me. you knew what you were signing up for when we started dating–”

this time it’s you who doesn’t let him finish. this is an argument you’ve heard one too many times, and one that always hurts the same to hear. of course, you knew what being with a celebrity entails and you never asked jiung to choose between you and his passion, but throwing it back at you in a moment like that is just cruel, “yes, i know! but you can’t expect me not to be hurt when we don’t even–”

“well, maybe if you weren’t so fucking sensitive about everything!”

the kitchen falls silent. your mouth closes slowly, the cut-off word dying on your tongue as his words slowly sink in. jiung looks as if he regrets it, his indignant expression faltering for a split second before he stills it again. the microwave beeps in the background, but neither of you pays attention anymore.

“sensitive?” the atmosphere feels heavy when you speak again, your voice cracking dangerously, “i’m too sensitive for being upset that my boyfriend doesn’t give a fuck about me anymore?”

you pause, giving jiung a chance to reply – to take it back, to apologise and promise it won’t happen again, even if you both know it will. to at least be decent enough to give you a sliver of hope.

but he doesn’t take that chance. 

he stands there, breathing heavily, his whole body coiled taut and his eyebrows furrowed in anger, but he doesn’t speak. either because he knows you’re right and is too riled up to admit it, or because he really just doesn’t care.

to you, it doesn’t matter why anymore. 

you’re over this. you’re tired of always being the less important thing, of feeling like you’re a chore to check off on his to-do list. you’re tired of begging him to rest and eat properly, of being worried out of your mind while he refuses to take care of himself at all, completely disregarding your concerns and acting like you’re the one who’s being ridiculous for trying to help. 

all the pent-up worry and frustration and hurt finally boil over, spilling out together with your words.

“i’ve been sitting here, waiting and hoping you’ll come home every single night for the past days, while you couldn’t even bother to send me a stupid text! i tried to understand, jiung, i really did, but this has been happening over and over again. every single time you have something important coming up at work, i’m being pushed away and treated like i don’t mean shit to you, and you expect me to just take it?”

you don’t even realise the moment your cheeks become wet, tears of helplessness flowing out of your eyes like a waterfall. you can barely see through the blur, but it’s enough for you to be able to step back just before jiung can reach out towards you. his arm flinches back, his whole body shrinking – you can imagine that his face is all crumpled now, maybe his eyes have even watered too. but it’s too late for guilt now.

“i’m done with your bullshit, jiung,” you don’t bother to wipe the dampness off as you take another step back, and then another one, before turning around and walking right out of the kitchen. you have half the mind to grab your jacket off the hanger and slip on some shoes, making sure your phone is still in your pocket as you make your way towards the front door, “i’m not gonna go out of my way to make sacrifices for someone who can’t do the same thing for me.”

you don’t even spare a glance back his way before you’re out the door, leaving jiung still standing in the same spot in the kitchen, eyes glued to where your silhouette disappeared behind the corner. the sound of the door slamming shut leaves a low ringing in his ears, his exhausted mind struggling to catch up to what just happened.

“i’m done with your bullshit, jiung,” your words echo through his head, over and over again, like a grim mantra reminding him of what could be the biggest mistake of his life. 

he falls to the cold floor as his knees give up underneath the weight of the realisation slowly sinking in.

did you… leave him?

#taglist ➼♡ @boptak @leleluvrs @megusiasworld @starrystarryung

ㅡ comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

©xdjville

[xdjville]

just a bet

synopsis: theo agrees to let you be in charge for once if he loses your bet. he's sure he'll win though. right?

一 requested by anon

pairing: sub!theo x fem!reader

words: 2,5k

cw: nsfw, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), bondage (m receiving), oral (m receiving), edging (m receiving), orgasm denial (m receiving), slight humiliation (m receiving), choking (m receiving), penetration (p in v), brat/brat tamer dynamics, reader calls theo a good boy

author's note: i was at work serving customers while thinking about subby theo 😔 the freak never stops

it was a stupid bet. one that theo didn’t even think twice before agreeing to.

it started as an argument about the series you’ve been watching together for the past week. you were halfway through the season at that point, and you were certain the main characters would get together by the end – in contrast to theo, who had a completely different idea of the storyline. he was so dead set on it, too, refusing to even listen to your arguments, that you were starting to believe he was only doing it to spite you.

he only found it more amusing the more annoyed you got, and you were getting sick of his attitude, so you did the only logical thing that could resolve the issue.

you offered a bet.

“if i win, you’ll finally let me be in charge,” you said, fully confident. 

theo only laughed at that, right in your face. ever since you started dating, he’s always been the one with the upper hand during sex, even in the rare moments he allowed you to be on top. he knows about your desire to object to him, you seemed to enjoy being difficult more than anything else in the world, but he’d shut down the discussion before it could really start every time you asked. 

but he’s also never the one to turn down a challenge, especially one he knows he’ll win. 

“and if you don’t?”

his question made you pause. frankly, you hadn’t thought it through that far, too sure of your point to even consider that you might be wrong. 

“whatever you want, i guess. you’re going to lose anyway,” theo’s grin widened when you shrugged. the prospect of having the right to make you do anything he wanted you to… oh, he’s so in.

#♡

the corners of theo’s lips curl down in a disapproving frown as he holds his arms up over his head, letting you tie his wrists to your bedframe with the silky ribbon he always uses to tie you up. 

“this is ridiculous,” he grumbles under his breath when you move his arms around slightly to test the knot. when you confirm that it’s neither too loose nor too tight, you hum in satisfaction and settle down on his hips. 

leaning forward slightly, you rest your hands on his bare chest; you’re smirking in that infuriatingly cocky way, your body adorned by that pretty burgundy lace set he got you for your birthday earlier this year, your eyes following the soft lines of his chest and abdomen, “you lost the bed, taeyang. suck it up.”

but he only rolls his eyes at your answer, tugging on the binds in a half-hearted attempt to wriggle free, aimed to show his dissatisfaction more than to actually get away.

“i know,” he murmurs, clearly still upset about losing to you. his jaw clenches when you lean down ever so slowly, trying to ignore the involuntary shivers going down his body as a reaction to your touch, “but did you really have to tie me up too–”

“shut up, will you?” you cut him off, voice low and obviously pleased, right before pressing your lips to his. 

the kiss starts slowly, letting the feeling build gradually as your hands roam over his shoulders and chest, mapping out the delicate outlines of his muscles. theo huffs against your mouth, but that indignant act of his is betrayed by the way he melts into you instantly, eyes fluttering closed as he kisses you back. he leans in as much as he can in his current position to deepen it – but you press back, forcing him to follow your pace. you’ve waited for this moment for way too long to let go of the control that easily, whether he likes it or not.

your lips trail down his jaw next, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the column of his throat in between gentle nips of your teeth that make theo’s breath hitch despite his attempts to remain unshaken. you smirk against his skin, happy with the way he’s clearly affected already, and slide your hands from his shoulders onto his pecs, your index fingers flicking over his nipples a few times to pebble them and make him squirm. 

your mouth follows suit, leaving wet marks over his neck and collarbones as it descends before replacing one of your hands, tongue flicking out to lick over the pink bud. 

theo physically flinches at the feeling, hands yanking at the ribbon and his hips bucking upwards reflexively in a feeble attempt to grind against yours – and he lets out a low groan when you rise slightly on your knees, denying him any friction.

“you’re enjoying it way too much,” the way he almost hisses the words out from between clenched teeth makes you grin as you continue to work his sensitive nipple with your tongue and mouth, biting it gently just to see him jump again.

“be patient,” your voice is muffled against his skin when you speak, your warm breath making his hair bristle. your mouth leaves his now swollen and reddened peak as you take your time to kiss a path down lower, humming at the salty taste of his skin coating your tongue when your lips finally meet the waistband of his underwear. 

the mattress gently gives under your weight when you shift on the bed to settle between his legs, hands pushing on the insides of his thighs to spread them wider, your touch feather-light.

“tell me what you want,” you whisper, not giving him anything more than the teasing brushes yet. you can see he’s still trying to resist, and this is not what you had in mind at all when you made the deal; you want him to be eating from your hand by the time you’re done with him.

theo scowls, frustrated by the way you’re toying with him now, your savoring being in charge for once feeling more like you’re rubbing it in his face. but he can’t deny how turned on he’s getting either – the blush spreading on his chest and the bulge growing steadily in his boxers are enough proof for that. “you know damn well what i want.”

of course, it’s true. you know exactly what he craves, and you’re more than willing to give it to him. but you sure as hell won’t make it easy. 

“say it,” theo sucks in a sharp breath when your fingers dig into the soft skin of his thighs, the faint pain sending electric shocks to his groin, making his hips jerk again. 

his jaw clenches in his mouth, his expression showing that he’s in a fight with himself, torn between despising your cockiness and the desperate need churning inside him. finally, he relents – the words leaving his mouth are almost rushed, like he’s forcing them out. 

“just– suck me off! i want you to suck me off,” he practically pants out, but you don’t budge. the dark smirk on your lips tells him there’s something else you want, enjoying the way his face turns pink as he groans from the sheer embarrassment, “...please.”

you grin, finally satisfied. your fingers hook under the material of his underwear to pull it down, your hungry gaze following the way his cock springs out, lying hard and thick against his lower stomach, a drop of precum coating his skin.

theo hisses at the first contact with your hand – your fingers wrapping tightly around the base of his shaft and squeezing, slowly sliding upwards to palm at the head and spreading the slickness to glide more easily. 

the pace you set when you start stroking his dick is far from enough, the teasing tilt of your wrist at the top making theo thrust up into your hand instinctively, but the movement is stopped by your other hand pressing down on his hipbone and pinning him down to the bed.

“shh…” you hush the frustrated moan of your name that falls from his lips. your hand keeps the lazy tempo as you lower your head to press a gentle kiss against his slit, tongue flicking out to press flat against the top of the head of his cock, dragging an almost pained groan from theo.

you can see him struggling against the binds, the headboard of the bed rattling against the wall as he tugs at them in agitation. the sight only makes you smile in satisfaction at how bothered he’s getting, before wrapping your lips around the tip and hollowing your cheeks as you suck.

“shit–!” he pants out, his voice tight. his head is tilted back on the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, droplets of sweat running down his forehead from how much it’s taking from him to keep his cool. 

you pick up the pace just slightly, your tongue working the sensitive underside of his length as you take more of him into your mouth, your hand still working the part you can’t reach. the sound of theo’s laboured breathing and quiet moans spurs you on, drinking in his reactions as you double down, bobbing your head and sucking to bring him towards release.

but when the shaky warning finally leaves his lips, you pull away at once. 

“what the fuck–” you watch theo wriggle against the ties again, his hips bucking now that you’re not holding him down anymore, trying to chase the gone friction. his pretty face is all red now, glistening with a sheer layer of sweat, his eyebrows creased.

you press a gentle kiss to the side of his bent knee, holding it with one of your hands to make sure it doesn’t jerk into your face, your nails scratching the skin of his thigh teasingly.

“be patient, baby,” the way you say those words is almost mocking, like you’re cooing at him, but the smirk on your lips is downright wicked, “it wouldn’t be fun if it ended that fast, would it?”

you brush a path along his v-line and groin with the tips of your fingers, careful to avoid the place he wants you to touch the most, drinking in the way he grows more impatient and desperate as his cock twitches, so hard now it’s probably painful. all of his complaints and grumbled curses fall unheard, your goal to make him fully submit blinding any empathy or pity.

when you feel like you’ve waited enough to let him come down from the edge, you lower your mouth onto him again, staring at the same languid pace. every merciless suck and drag of your hand over his cock makes him flinch, the coil in his belly tightening up faster now that he’s all sensitive and flushed. you don’t seem to have had nearly enough yet, though – building him up slowly and halting right before he can cum time and time again, edging him to insanity. 

theo’s all but put together now. his naked body writhes and tosses on the bed, arms pulling at the ties as he moans helplessly, cursing out you, that stupid bet, and himself for ever agreeing to the deal. his cock is rock hard in your grip – thick, swollen, flushed angry red at the tip where more precum spurts out with every denied orgasm. his thighs twitch pathetically as his hips struggle uselessly against your hold to try to jerk up into your hand.

“come on, teayang,” you purr, pumping his shaft as you watch him tremble and babble incoherently. the pace is just enough to keep him on edge without pushing him over, driving him crazy, “you know what i wanna hear.”

theo shakes his head and mutters something under his breath. his jaw is clenched so hard it looks like it’s about to break, finger nails digging into his palms from how tightly he’s fisting them. 

you let out a huff of air when you don’t get your answer, backing out again and resting both hands on his thighs. being denied another orgasm after what feels like hours of torture is the last straw for theo – and he whimpers, his back arching off the mattress as his muscles pull taut.

“please–” the sheer desperation in his tone makes your heart clench, his voice cracking on a sob as he finally breaks and begs, “please, let me cum! i-i can’t– i’ll do anything, please–”

it’s a thrilling mix of sympathy and cruel satisfaction that runs through your body at the sight of the state you managed to reduce him to, wetness pooling in your lace panties enough to make you press your thighs together in search for relief. 

“good boy,” you hum, quickly getting rid of your undergarments before moving to straddle his lap, biting down a moan when the head of his cock brushes against your folds and catches on your needy clit, the friction making theo cry out. you take hold of his face, fingers digging into his cheeks to force him to look at you, “i’m gonna let you fuck me, but you can’t cum before i do. understood?”

theo nods his head fervently, desperate enough to agree to anything to get a release. his wrists turn red from how hard he pulls at the ribbon when you finally sink onto him, your pussy – drenched from how focused you’ve been on him without getting any attention yourself – sucking him in needily until your pelvis is pressed flush against his. 

you swollen lips part in a silent gasp at the familiar fullness as your hands brace on his chest, wasting no time before you push yourself up on your knees until only the head stays inside you, and then dropping down again. the room fills with the sweet sounds of skin slapping against skin, your cunt quaking, and theo’s broken whines growing louder with every bounce on his dick.

“ah– pleasepleaseplease–” he begs pathetically, his words slurring, “please… need to– i can’t–”

one of your hands wraps around his throat – not squeezing hard, but holding firmly enough to make him gasp – while the other one slips between your bodies to rub your clit as you pick up the pace, chasing your approaching climax, “shit– make me cum first, then i’ll let you– ah, fuck, i’m close–!”

tears brim in theo’s eyes from how hard it is to hold back after being edged for so long but he listens, his hips bucking off the bed as he fucks into you wildly, hitting that soft spot inside you over and over again to drive you over the edge.

your vision whites out completely when your orgasm finally hits, your whole body tensing as you let out a sharp cry. your fingers keep working your clit, your tight walls clenching and fluttering around theo’s overstimulated cock – dragging him right behind you as he shatters under the intensity of his own climax with a broken moan, warmth spreading in your belly as his cum spills inside you. 

you’re both exhausted and sweaty when you collapse on top of him, savouring the feeling of his dick shooting the last desperate ropes into your cunt as it twitches, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. your lips trail over his neck as you press delicate kisses to his skin as a silent praise, grounding him after what was probably the most intense evening of both of your lives. 

“such a good boy,” you whisper, voice rough from all the moaning, nose brushing against his jawline affectionately.

you swear you can almost feel him smile at the nickname.

#taglist ➼♡ @suzayaaa @boptak @leleluvrs @megusiasworld @starrystarryung

+ @aalyluvz

ㅡ comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

©xdjville

[xdjville]

bad kind of butterflies

synopsis: you should be happy you finally managed to secure a job as a full-time producer, but you just can't stop thinking about jiung's pretty, brown eyes.

一 requested by (the one and only) @jiuchip

pairing: idol!jiung x producer!fem!reader, featuring rest of piwon

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, humor (attempted)

words: 4k

author's note: honestly it turned out much more fluffy than i planned, i guess i just can't resist loser jiung.... i hope i've done your request justice queen 🙏

you’re pretty sure you’ve already managed to jeopardise your job before you even got there.

the sound of hurried footsteps echoes through the empty halls as you run into the fnc entertainment’s building, barely sparing the security at the door a tilt of your head before taking off towards the wing with studio rooms. the coffee you bought on your way here is clutched in your sweaty hand – you’ve never been more grateful for the underpaid and overqualified part-time baristas in that small cafe next to your apartment who somehow always manage to prepare your iced americano in less than a minute.

you signed your contract with fnc a few weeks ago. it’s the first real job in the music industry you’ve ever had, aside from your own stuff and a few gigs here and there. you’re supposed to be meeting their biggest active boy group – “their breakthrough”, as the ceo kindly described them, after you’ve sent them a couple of demos to consider for their upcoming album.

and yet, you’re late.

a drop of sweat runs down your temple when you glance at the lockscreen of your phone – exactly nineteen minutes late.

your fingers drum anxiously against the plastic cup during the unusually long elevator ride to the second floor, the calm music doing little to calm your already shattered nerves. when the door finally opens with a quiet ding after what feels like hours instead of seconds, you make a beeline straight towards room 29B, slamming the door open without even bothering to think of knocking, and throw a murmured apology into the air as you step inside.

six pairs of eyes turn towards you immediately, but you try to ignore the way the hairs at the back of your neck bristle while you drop your belongings onto the desk. you take a long sip of your already watered-down coffee, place the cup down next to your bag, and with a long exhale you finally turn around to face them – almost physically startling at the sight in front of you.

six men stand in a semi-circle across the small studio; each with their hair dyed a different colour, their clothes stylish in a way that’s unusual for a simple meeting and makes you feel terribly underdressed, all of them watching you intently with various levels of surprise and amusement.

and they’re all almost ridiculously attractive, too. so the magazines don’t lie all that much, huh.

“...you alright?” one of them speaks up, clearly trying to conceal the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. his hair is a light shade of blonde, high cheekbones and thin-framed glasses adorning his long face. you recognise him from the bit of research you’ve done on them after joining the company; he was their leader or something, right? what was his name again?

“yeah! yeah, i’m okay, i, uh…” the words come out of your mouth rushed and breathless, the adrenaline still coursing through your system pairing with your bad stamina into a lethal combination. “sorry again for keeping you waiting.”

“don’t worry about it,” says another guy, standing to the right of the previous one. he’s a bit shorter and a bit of a darker blonde than him, his hair almost reaching his shoulders. jongseob, if you remember correctly, rubs his neck sheepishly. “we were a bit late too, actually. we just came a few minutes ago.”

that comment surprisingly manages to ease your nerves a little, tension slowly draining from your shoulders as you all exchange greetings. each of them takes a turn to introduce themselves, returning your polite smiles and bows with their own.

you learn that the first one to speak is in fact the leader – his name’s keeho, and that you were right about jongseob. then there’s soul, the one you recognise from the dance videos you’ve seen on tiktok, theo who looks like he’s been dragged out of bed despite it being past two in the afternoon, intak who, for some reason, has both a baseball cap and a hood on his head indoors… and then there’s jiung. 

his rather pale skin glows in the low light, his jaw sharp and angled just right, nose slightly arched, his platinum hair falling slightly into his eyes… and you think your heart does a little somersault when his lips curve into that sweet, gentle smile.

an awkward, heavily uncomfortable huff of air in the likeness of a laugh escapes your lips as you take a big step backwards, your fingers diving deep into the pockets of your jacket as if trying to somehow shield yourself from whatever that feeling you just had was. “so… have you guys listened to the demos?”

#♡

the rest of the meeting goes smoothly. sort of.

the guys liked your demos. after some discussing and figuring out everyone’s expectations for the comeback, two out of the three you have sent were chosen to be included in the album, one of which would be the title track – you patted yourself on the back mentally for that. it turns out that, as talented the group is, they’re also extremely involved in the whole creative process of the preparations, from the main theme of the album through photoshoots to songwriting, which you were pleasantly surprised to learn.

but needless to say, you’d probably enjoy the whole process a lot more if it weren’t for a pair of brown eyes that seemed to be following your every move the entire afternoon. 

and if it wasn’t for the fact that no matter how hard you tried not to make contact with them, they seemed to already be pointed your way whenever you glanced over. 

and if it wasn’t for the fact that your stupid brain refused to work with the owner of those eyes within your near vicinity, making you trip over your words and causing you to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone in the room.

the lock clicks softly when you shut the studio door closed, leaning your forehead against the cold wood with a sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as you finally allow yourself to breathe again.

you’re so losing this job.

#♡

“she seems pretty young, no?” the question leaves keeho’s mouth almost as soon as the six settle into the van that’s supposed to take them back to their dorm. they all knew they would be working with a new producer for this comeback, someone fresh in the company as they heard, but now that they’ve actually met the person that’s been one of the main topics of their conversations for the past few days, keeho’s almost vibrating with the need to gossip.

“she does,” theo hums in acknowledgement from the seat in the back, his gaze glued on the slowly passing buildings as the car starts to move. “she mentioned something about graduating recently. she must be around our age then.”

jongseob perks up from the front row, his nose already glued to his phone, not sparing the rest a glance as he speaks. “she’s good, though. having two out of three songs accepted on her first try is really impressive.”

a collective of nods and muttered agreements echoes in the car at the youngest’s statement, everyone acknowledging the undeniable talent of the new face. 

no one speaks up for the next moment, but the air seems almost thick with something.

“she’s hot,”  soul finally dares to say what’s clearly been on each of the men’s minds for the past hours, and the van fills with a chorus of loud groans and laughs; jongseob patting his friend on the back and intak throwing his head back with a relieved ‘thank god somebody said it’.

but among the six horny men, there’s one who’s been uncharacteristically quiet ever since they left the studio, face almost pressed against the glass window as he seemingly tries to evade the conversation – which keeho, ever the keen leader who’s always eerily attuned to his members’ moods, naturally notices.

“ayo, jiung, you good?” the question only makes the said man curl into himself more, but keeho doesn’t let go that easily, and tugs on his shoulder to take a peek at his friend’s face. whatever he sees there turns out to be either extremely shocking or amusing – or both – because he practically jumps in his seat, hands slapping over his mouth as he lets out an incredulous gasp.

“oh my god! no way,” jiung groans internally when all eyes turn to him as a reaction to the older man’s dramatics, and pulls his hood over his head in a futile attempt to escape their irritating, nosy gazes. “he’s blushing!”

the interior of the car turns into something more closely resembling a rugby game than a group of singers on their way home after that, with the guys shoving and slapping each other’s shoulders, each jibe aimed at jiung turning more and more explicit and inappropriate until his face is burning and he starts to wish the ground would just swallow him whole right now to spare him the agony.

jiung races to his room and locks himself inside the moment the group enters the dorm, pressing his back against the door and sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. no matter how hard he tries, he doesn’t seem to be able to get the image of you out of his head. his cheeks burn at the mere memory of the colour of your eyes, the sweet sound of your voice, and the way you stuttered so endearingly whenever you caught his gaze. or at least he thinks that’s what made you stutter. maybe he just made it all up?

doesn’t matter. it’s not like he’s going to do anything about it anyway.

whatever it is.

#♡

the next time you see p1harmony is for the recording session, five days later. you make sure to come in early this time, sipping on your iced americano as you go through all of the files on your laptop to confirm everything’s ready while waiting for them to arrive.

you didn’t sleep that well tonight. you tossed and turned until late hours, your mind torn between thinking of jiung and his sparkly eyes and charming smile, and worrying about how scandalous the articles would be if anyone ever found out about the liking you’ve taken to him.

but there’s no more time for catastrophising when the six men enter the studio, all of them sending brief greetings and subtle bows your way. you nod towards each of them politely, hyping yourself up internally to act normal when you meet jiung’s gaze this time – but it’s almost as if the world slows down around you when you finally do. everything around you becomes hazy – the rest of the group, the interior of the studio, the soft light of your laptop screen – except for him, and the way he smiles at you so kindly and waves his hand in a way that seems almost shy. god, what have his parents done for the universe to bless their child with this kind of beauty? they must be some kind of doctors, scientists maybe–

you’re startled out of your little moment when someone clears their throat, very loudly and very deliberately. you didn’t even notice when everyone sat down – except for jiung, who looks like he’s come out of a trance too, suddenly breaking eye contact and fiddling with the strap of his bag as he lowers his head to hide the faint blush spreading on his cheeks. yours feel warmer than usual too, and you blink a couple times to bring yourself back to reality.

“okay… yeah, so, uh… who wants to go first?” you ask, pretending not to notice the pointed glances and not-so-sneaky whispers between the other five as you turn your chair back towards the work station.

“i’ll go,” theo offers, already standing up from the couch in the corner of the cramped studio and making his way towards the recording booth. you let out a quiet exhale in relief – you’re pretty sure you’d combust on the spot if it was jiung who went first.

from that moment, thankfully, you’re able to switch to your professional mode; mostly because you have your back turned to you-know-who, allowing you to forget about his existence for at least a while.

on the other side, jiung all but forgets about you. even if he wanted to, intak next to him seems to think it’s the funniest thing in the world to see his older friend all rosy cheeks and sweaty palms, and he alternates between sending him knowing smirks and nudging his shoulder whenever you do something that could be found even remotely attractive. he’s barely able to conceal his laughter with a pretend cough when you strip off your jacket somewhere during keeho’s turn, making jiung suddenly understand the notion of victorian men going crazy over a woman’s ankle when he’s met with the sight of your bare shoulders.

he spends the rest of the members’ turns as quiet as ever. he even ends up taking his own hoodie off because of how much hotter the room suddenly became (ignoring intak’s snicker), wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans every couple of minutes, almost like a nervous tick.

what he doesn’t know is that the worst is yet to come.

because it turns out that his usually work-shy, good-for-nothing members are especially motivated today, and they all squeeze their arrogant asses into the booth before he can even make a move to stand up from his spot on the couch, causing him to end up being the last to record his parts. he can’t even pretend to be surprised when the moment he steps inside, they bolt out the door one by one, muttering the most unconvincing excuses about how they need to feed their cat (which they don’t have) or go to a dance practice (which, again, they don’t have), leaving the two of you alone.

you keep staring at the door for a while in shock, as if expecting them to come back – and gulp audibly when you finally realise it’s not going to happen.

“uh…” you swear you feel a drop of sweat run down your back as you turn back towards the big window separating the booth from the rest of the studio room. the speaker button gives in under your shaky hand when you press it, your gaze landing everywhere but jiung’s face. “...let’s start from the first verse, yeah?”

jiung nods curtly and adjusts his headphones, praying silently that ignoring your presence will be enough to get through the session as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

he fumbles a little at first, the lyrics evaporating from his mind and his voice wavering dangerously close to cracking a few times, but he’s able to recover just in time to record all of his lines within the time limit, and even be semi-satisfied with the result.

jiung meets your gaze for the first time in hours when he steps out of the studio booth after your cue.

“you did a good job,” you say quietly, and he feels his knees almost give out when you give him that smile.

a muttered thanks leaves his lips in response. he doesn’t make a move towards the exit yet, and neither do you – the two of you must have a masochistic]side in common, seeing how torturous the silence feels, gazes shying away from each other and hands fidgeting. suddenly jiung’s grateful that everyone left early, because he surely would be teased to death for how much of a coward he’s being. should he just go? he’s probably making you uncomfortable, right? oh god, are you–

“hey, so–”

“so i was–” the two of you speak at the same time.

a beat of silence.

“oh, sorry–”

“i’m sorry, you–” ​

this time you’re quick to let out laugh awkward enough you know it’s going to haunt you at night, your face burning. “you go first.”

you feel both relieved and sorry when he lets out an even more nervous-sounding, breathy chuckle. “no– i was just–” he huffs, scratching the back of his neck. “i was just wondering if i, uh… if you could, you know… give me your number… maybe? i just– i think i’m gonna have to re-record some of the parts and i–”

the atmosphere after that gets thick enough to cut it with a knife. you don’t even think twice before coughing up an apology, a little too out of your mind at the moment to realize his intentions. “oh– you can just email me! i don’t have a business phone number, so...”

jiung feels his heart drop at that. is that your way of rejecting him? or did it feel like he was rejecting you? maybe he was giving you mixed signals… but he’s asked for your number, how could that be–

“unless… you mean, you know… my number?” his mental spiralling gets cut off when you speak again. his wide eyes land on your face, lingering on the way you’re chewing on your lower lip anxiously – like you’re afraid you said something wrong – but he quickly forces it back up.

he nods, slowly, and swallows heavily. “yeah, that’s– that would be nice, yeah…”

jiung hands you his phone, cursing internally at how his sweaty fingers leave visible marks on the screen. you don’t seem to notice, though – too busy trying not to freak out about the fact that apparently you weren’t the only one feeling that pull – and quickly save your number to his contacts before gathering your belongings haphazardly and hurrying out the door, leaving jiung alone with his racing heart.

#♡

“you’re here,” jiung perks up as soon as your feet cross the threshold of the recording studio.

you smile softly, closing the door behind you and dumping your bag and jacket onto the couch. he looks a little too good for your liking, you think, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed, his hair slightly messy, and his outfit on point, as always. your gaze flicks over him unconsciously, and your eyebrows crease when it lands on the familiar-looking coffee cup right next to him.

“oh, that–” he almost startles when he notices where you’re looking, the effortlessly cool image he was trying to maintain shattering as he fumbles over his words. “you– i noticed you always drinking iced americanos from that cafe down the street, so i just– thought i’d get it… for you.”

your heart skips a beat. you actually forgot to stop by the place in your rush to get to your meeting with jiung on time… god, could he get any better?

“...thanks,” the word comes out quieter and more pathetic than you’d like, but you try to ignore it as you take the cup from his hands, stepping closer to the working space. “so… you said you wanted to re-record some lines?”

jiung nods, pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his pants and opening his notes app. “yeah…” he tilts the screen towards you. “i thought the first chorus and bridge needed some more work.”

both of you get into your positions wordlessly – you at the desk outside the booth and him inside, phone propped on the music stand below the mic to allow him to peek at the lyrics in case he gets nervous again. this time it doesn’t feel as tense as the last time; it’s still awkward, yes, but there’s progress. 

you walk him through the lines one by one, offering advice and feedback after each try until you’re both satisfied with the result.

“alright, you can try it one more time to be safe, and i think we’re good,” jiung hums in agreement as you play the music again, bobbing his head to the familiar notes flowing through his headphones. just when he’s about to open his mouth, his gaze lands on a new message notification on the top of his phone screen.

keeho: you hit it yet?

jiung chokes on a half-surprised, half-scandalised gasp when he reads the words, doubling over in a cough attack when his spit ends up going into the wrong pipe. you jump up from your chair immediately, the door bursting open as you rush into the recording booth in worry.

“oh my god, are you okay?” one of your hands pats his back gently, the other one gripping his arm to ground him. your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest as he breathes heavily – partially from the scare and partially from the contact. you can’t help but think that you don’t recall being that close to him before.

he waves his hand dismissively when he finally manages to calm down, the redness slowly fading from his face to give way to its natural shade.

“are you sure?” you press on, tilting your head up slightly to look at him as he straightens back up. to be completely honest, you’re not even convinced if you’re actually still worried, or if you just don’t want to leave now that you’ve seen how long his lashes are and how much prettier his eye colour looks from this close.

when jiung’s breath catches this time, it’s from a completely different reason. he can’t bring himself to look away from the way your lips are slightly parted in concern, and how the dim lights of the studio reflect in your irises, looking almost star-like.

he doesn’t know what possesses him all of a sudden – maybe it’s that text from keeho, but he’d rather die than give him any credit – but he leans in before he can think it through, the warmth of his breath brushing your lips when he halts just close enough for the tip of his nose to touch yours.

“can i kiss you?” he whispers, gaze flicking between your wide eyes and the way your jaw moves when you swallow, then adds more quietly. “...please.”

you can’t move. it’s like you’re frozen in your spot, all of your muscles tensing as sirens go off in your head. this is a very, very bad idea. you work for him, in a way. you need to stop it now, before it goes any further.

your head barely tilts when you nod.

and then his lips brush against yours, and you forget why you even thought you should stop in the first place. 

your entire body shivers when his hands cup both of your cheeks before melting into his touch, lips parting in likeness of his when they start to move ever so gently. you pull him closer by tugging on his jacket, swallowing the surprised gasp he lets out into your mouth in response and using the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

​”i thought i’d go crazy,” jiung pulls away for just long enough to breathe out, one of his hands moving down from your cheek to slip around your waist as he turns you around, pressing you into the soundproofing foam covering the wall. the world spins around you, everything but the feeling of his lips on yours passing into oblivion. 

“me too…” you let out a breathless sigh when his mouth starts to descend your jaw, teeth nipping softly at the delicate skin on the side of your neck as he presses his body closer to yours, the smell of his cologne intoxicating your senses.

it’s only when your eyes flutter open briefly that you see the green light above the door, signalling that you forgot to turn the recording off when you rushed into the booth.

#taglist ➼♡ @suzayaaa @boptak @leleluvrs

ㅡ comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

©xdjville

[xdjville]

wicked games

synopsis: you've been playing games with keeho's patience all evening, and now he finally gets to teach you a lesson.

ㅡ requested by anon

words: 2,7k (i'm sooo normal about keeho)

cw: established relationship, porn with no plot, reader being a menace, hard dom!keeho, oral (m receiving), facefucking, ball sucking, degradation, humiliation, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), i've gotten carried away again lol

author's note: um... so... i swear this was supposed to be under 1k, i just don't seem to have a single appropriate thought about this man sorry

"do you think this is funny?"

keeho's voice is low as he speaks, his words like a warning. he's walking towards you slowly, his dark eyes holding your gaze as he backs you up towards the back of the couch in your living room until your thighs dig into the edge.

"do i think what's funny?" a lie. you know exactly what he's talking about, and you have to put all of your effort into suppressing a smirk that threatens to bloom on your lips at how easily things are going your way. and just like you thought, your answer only seems to rile him up more.

"don't play dumb now," he lets out a dry scoff. he's leaning closer as he speaks, trapping you between him and the furniture, the weight of his scrutinising gaze almost making you want to give up. "you've been acting up all day. poking at me, making fun of me, trying to get a reaction in front of the others. are you really that desperate for attention?"

it's true. you've been a menace to him since you woke up, provoking and taunting him whenever you got the chance, and your misbehaviour only intensified when you met with his members for dinner in the evening. there's no real reason for it other than wanting to see his reaction, enjoying the sight of your boyfriend's brows creasing at your seemingly endless jabs. tough you'd lie if you said you didn't hope for something more to come out of it at the end of the day, and with the way keeho's looking at you right now, you think you might just get it.

keeho's usually the dominant one in your relationship when it comes to sex, but he's rarely rough with it. he loves you and he always tries to make sure you're comfortable and not in pain in the first place; and you appreciate it, you really do, but sometimes you're just craving something more... intense. you've tried to talk to him about it, expressing how much you'd enjoy it if he were just a bit more commanding in bed, but even when he tried to grant your wish, you could always sense the hesitation in him in fear of hurting you. so you've found yet another way to actually get him to be harsher with you - making him angry. not angry angry, just the kind of irritation that simmers in him for long hours before it finally boils over when you're alone. you know pissing him off is not the proudest talent of yours, and swear you try to use it as rarely as possible, but it's not your fault it's that effective.

"answer me," he speaks again, the annoyed edge in his voice getting more prominent now. he's wearing the kind of expression that makes you think smoke is about to start coming out of his nose.

you meet his gaze head-on. "i don't know what you're talking about," you force your voice to a neutral tone as you respond, despite the warmth already spreading in your lower belly.

keeho clicks his tongue, clearly dissatisfied with your answer. he lets out a long exhale, glaring at you like you're just hopeless, and your thighs clench instinctively.

"on your knees," he says bluntly. you have the audacity to raise an eyebrow at him, making no move to do what he said, at which he bristles, his full lips curving into a frown. his arm shoots out, grabbing your face with one hand in a way that makes your cheeks squished and lips puckered. "i said," he repeats, this time slower and darker. like he's daring you to see what happens if you keep misbehaving. "on. your. knees."

there's something about the warning in his voice that makes him seem almost dangerous now, and you'll be damned if you didn't just feel butterflies in your stomach. this time without a smartass remark, you lower yourself down to the ground, kneeling on the cold floor in front of him.

"look at you," he loosens his grip on your face, but doesn't let go completely. he turns your chin left and right, as if inspecting every inch of your face, his tone almost condescending as he talks. "you've been wanting this, huh? riling me up all day so i treat you like a whore? you think i don't know what game you've been playing?"

your eyes widen a fraction at his words. he knows? then why didn't he say something instead of just letting you piss him off further?

keeho smirks at your expression, feeling your cheeks warm beneath the pads of his fingers. "that's right," his hand leaves your face to unbuckle the belt in his jeans. "you're gonna get just what you wanted."

you don't even realize you're holding your breath as you watch him get rid of the leather belt first, then open the zipper of his pants, and finally push them down to his feet. he kicks them off to the side, but you pay no attention to their whereabouts, your gaze fixated on the outline of his half-hard cock visible through the black armani boxers, and you swear your mouth starts to water.

wasting no time, you lean forward, bracing your hands on his thighs, as you press the flat of your tongue against the base of his dick through the material. keeho only laughs at your eagerness. "would you look at that," he almost coos, running a hand through your hair to push it out of the way as you lap at him, your saliva leaving wet patches on the black fabric. "you just can't wait to finally have a cock in your mouth, isn't that right?"

you let out an affirmative hum in response, completely shameless, the vibrations making his hips jerk. his boner is getting more prominent with each touch, straining against his boxers as he throws his head back in pleasure.

then you're wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, sucking and flicking your tongue against it, your spit creating bubbles over the surface of the fabric. that makes him let out a soft grunt - the biggest sign of him being affected so far - and soon he's tugging on your hair to pull your head away from him.

"that's enough," he orders, his thumbs already hooking in the waistband of his boxers to pull them down to join his pants somewhere on the floor. his cock is so hard it almost springs into your face; thick, a little curved, and flushed red at the tip. a drop of precum forms on the top of the head as he gives it a few pumps, his other hand tipping your chin up so he can catch your hazed gaze. "open."

you do as he says - jaw hanging open and tongue sticking out just past your lower lip - and the sight of you like that makes him curse under his breath. he takes a step closer and lines up the head of his dick with your mouth, tapping it against your tongue a couple times at first. "see what you do to me?" he rasps, letting out a huff of air when your lips wrap around his tip and suck on it lightly. "been walking around half-hard in front of the guys because of your little games. think you deserve to be treated like a good girl after pulling that little stunt of yours?"

you pull off his dick with a soft pop, looking up at him from under your lashes as you shake your head. "no-"

keeho cuts you off by grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling on it to tilt your face up. "did i say you could fucking stop?" he snarls at you, then guides your mouth onto his cock again - this time forcing you to take him a bit deeper, an inch or two past the head. you let out a surprised yelp, muffled by his length, but he pays it no mind as he starts to move your head back and forth.

"you're gonna be treated like the little cock-hungry slut you are," his words are forced through his clenched teeth, the anger and lust mixing into something dangerous, as he starts to thrust shallowly into your mouth in time with the movements of your head. "gonna fuck that pretty mouth until you're begging me to stop. because that's what you wanted, no? all that trouble just to get fucked dumb."

all you can do is whimper around him and dig your nails into his thighs as he guides your movements, his thrusts getting deeper and rougher with every moment, until his head starts hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. you can feel yourself getting wetter with every filthy word he throws your way; you expected your taunts to work, they always do after all, but never like this. the way he talks down to you and leaves no space for your input is just as new as it is arousing.

"fuck, yeah..." keeho's eyes fall closed momentarily as he gets lost in the feeling of your mouth taking him so well, your cheeks hollowed as you suck his cock whenever he pulls back, your little helpless whimpers going straight to his head. "come on, babe, you can do better than that. open up."

your grip on his legs tightens when he pulls your head harder towards him, trying to loosen up your throat and fight against the gag reflex as the head of his cock presses more insistently against the muscle.

he finally pushes all the way in with a couple more thrusts, tears spilling out of your eyes as he presses your nose right against his groin.

"goddamnit-" he lets out a groan, strong hand holding you in place without any chance to move, his cock twitching in your mouth every time your throat flutters around it when you gag, spit spilling out from the corners of your mouth and onto your chin. "such a fucking whore. look at you, choking on my cock," he snickers, grinding his hips against your mouth a couple times despite your already messy state. "and there's nowhere else you'd rather be now, huh?"

you pull away when he finally loosens his hold on your hair, coughing and gasping for air. he only watches you as you wipe your tear and spit-striken face with the back of your hand, smirking as he strokes himself slowly.

"what would the others say if they knew my little sweet girl is such a good cock-sucker?" he taunts, pulling you back in with his hand in your hair. this time though, he angles your mouth towards his balls, all thick and swollen, his own hand jerking his cock as you obediently work your tongue and mouth lower.

"just like that... gonna fuck that tight pussy after- shit-" he cuts off with a gasp when you suck one of his testicles into your mouth, tongue drawing gentle circles over the delicate skin. he feels his balls starting to tighten, nearing his release, so he yanks your head back before slamming his cock back into your mouth. you don't even startle this time, only moaning around him and taking him as deep as you can as he fucks your throat.

"gonna- fuck- gonna cum..." he hisses, hands leaving your hair to brace on the backrest of the couch behind you, allowing him to thrust deeper and faster as he approaches his orgasm. "swallow it. fucking take it."

you try to nod as best as you can with your mouth full of him, doubling your efforts as you suck and flick your tongue over the underside of his shaft. then finally, with a couple more thrusts and a string of curses gasped under his breath, his muscles lock as he spills right down your throat with a strained groan. you gag a little, but you manage to swallow everything except for a single drop that drips from the corner of your mouth.

he pulls out of your mouth after a moment, letting you both catch your breath. you lick your lips, gathering all the residue on your tongue, pressing your thighs together in a futile attempt to get some kind of friction.

keeho opens his eyes again to the view of you still on your knees, squirming and looking all desperate below him, and he feels all of his blood being redirected back to his softening cock. his eyes darken, and he grabs you by your hair to pull you up onto your feet and manhandle you to bend over the back of the couch before you even have the time to think about how wobbly your knees feel.

he tugs your pants down along with your underwear in one, sharp movement. he doesn't even bother to pull them all the way down your legs, leaving them wrapped around your lower thighs and binding your knees together as he drags his fingers between your pussy lips.

"fuckin' soaked," he snickers, the tips of his fingers toying with your swollen clit. "you're getting off of this, huh? being called a filthy, cock-sucking whore?"

the friction feels incredible and not enough at the same time after all that's already happened and how needy you are; you moan, loud and obscene, and try to push your hips back against his hand, but he holds you down with his other one as he clicks his tongue at your desperation.

he takes the hand away, smirking when you whine at the loss of friction, and uses the arousal he gathered on his hand to lube his cock before lining the head with your entrance. "big breath," he taunts with a wicked smirk, and bottoms out in one, deep thrust of his hips.

you gasp, breath catching your throat and your hands clenching on the backrest at the sudden fullness. you don't get any time to recover before he's slamming into you mercilessly, hands gripping your waist to pull you back against him, impaling you fully on his cock with every thrust.

"keeho-!" you cry out, your knees buckling where they're still held together with your clothes, every slam of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids.

"so- goddamn tight..." keeho groans between thrusts, hips speeding up as if to chase another approaching orgasm. he tugs your shirt up to expose your breasts that bounce with every slam of his cock against your cervix, and pushes the hem into your mouth to keep them in sight. when his hands move from your waist to your tits, kneading the flesh and pinching your nipples, the coil in your belly threatens to snap.

"you like that? when i take whatever i want from this perfect cunt?" he growls into your ear as he leans down over you, pressing you down with his chest against your back. he takes one of his hands off your breast to spank your ass cheek harshly when you don't answer fast enough.

"yes! god- i love it!" you almost sob out the words, muffled by your shirt you're holding between your teeth, holding onto the couch for your dear life. "keeho- ah, fuck-! i'm close- i'm close, please-!"

this only seems to spur him on, his movements getting faster and less coordinated as he pushes you both to your climaxes. "yes- fucking milk my cock dry-"

one of his hands sneaks around your hips to find your clit and attack it with tight, merciless circles - and it's all it takes for you to tip over the edge, pussy walls clamping around his dick as you cum with a gasp of his name, the spit-soaked hem of your shirt falling out of your mouth. the increased tightness takes him right along with you - a few more thrusts into your tight cunt and he's spilling inside you for the second time, hips pressed flush against your ass as his cock twitches with the last spurts of cum before he collapses over your body, both of you breathing heavily.

as you lie there, bent over the couch, mind hazy from powerful orgasm, you can only think of one thing:

you can't wait for the next dinner with his friends.

#taglist ➼♡ @suzayaaa @boptak

ㅡ comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

©xdjville

[xdjville]

soft spot

pairing: intak x f!reader

synopsis: intak gets very passionate about proving to you that he has a soft spot for your softness

words: 2.7k

cw: nsfw, established relationship, reader is thick/chubby/fat/whatever you want (descriptions aren't that specific) and intak is into that, mentions of self-acceptance issues, reader has a bush, intak sniffs reader's cooch (might've gotten a little carried away), body worship, oral (f receiving), mirror sex, some groping, cursing

author's note: guys i haven't written a full fic in a hot while, i hope i'm not rusty 😭 anyways pushing my intak eater agenda, enjoy

the soft light of your bedside lamp casts over your skin and reflects on the glass of the full-body mirror in the corner of your room. you're watching your reflection intently, fingertips gently brushing against the soft contours of your body - along the seam of your tank top that hugs the curve of your chest, and over the waistband of your sweatpants that accentuates the roundness of your hips and sits low enough enough to reveal the softness beneath your navel.

your relationship with your body has always been a complicated one.

you've gone through a fair share of ups and downs, with the latter reaching their peak during your high school years, as it happens to many. now, as a grown woman, you've learned to accept and appreciate the femininity of your softness, for most part.

but even now, there are days when it feels like you're a stranger in your own body. like the person looking back at you from the reflection of the mirror isn't exactly you, at least not the image of you that exits in your mind.

deep in your thoughts, you don't even notice the door creaking open until a familiar voice brings you back down to earth.

"...didn't mean to interrupt."

you turn your head away from the mirror for the first time in what feels like hours - towards the door, where your boyfriend leans against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely at his chest, his usual confident smirk softened by the tired lines around his eyes.

intak pushes himself off the frame when he sees that you've finally noticed his presence, arms falling to his sides as he takes a couple tentative steps in your direction. "you okay?"

you send him a small, but not necessarily dishonest smile, before turning your gaze back to the mirror. "yeah. i'm okay." his eyes follow your hands as you tug the hem of your top a little lower down your stomach. "just... looking, i guess."

his gentle smile gives away to a slight frown, clearly unconvinced by your answer and your seemingly nervous fidgeting with the soft material of your clothes. he takes another step forward to stand behind you, hands settling on your waist like they have a habit of doing, and watches you carefully in the mirror, gaze flickering between your expression and your hands. "looking at what?"

you notice the worry etched onto his face, so you're quick to give a half-hearted smile in response. your fingers continue twiddling with the hem of your tank top. "at myself. just thinking."

intak's gaze follows the movement of your fingers, his brow creasing. "is there... a problem with what you're seeing?" his words are careful, like he's not sure if he should step in between you and whatever's going on inside your head.

you purse your lips at his question, silence falling between the two of you for a moment as you search for the answer.

is there something wrong with it?

when you finally speak again, your voice is unsure, like you're not quite convinced yourself. "no... i mean- i don't know? i don't- i don't think there is..."

that makes his eyebrows furrow even more, his fingers tightening just a bit on the soft skin of your waist as he watches you fumble. "you don't know?"

you let out a long, almost troubled sigh, your shoulders slumping. your mouth opens and closes a couple of times as your brain struggles to come up with an explanation you couldn't find for yourself your whole life.

"baby," he speaks again before you can, stepping just a bit closer to look at the side of your face from behind your shoulder, his chest pressed against your back and arms fully wrapping around your middle. "what's going on? do you not like how you look?"

you lean back against him automatically, the warmth of his embrace easing a bit of the tension from your body. "...it's not that i don't like it," you say at last. your voice is quieter than usual, almost like you're bracing for judgement, while your eyes fall to where his arms are tight around your waist. "i just... i guess i'm just not sure how to feel about it."

he rests his chin on your shoulder, his lips slightly puckered in thought as his eyes take in your whole in the mirror, bit by bit, travelling from your face all the way down to your socks, then back up. "i think you're beautiful." he says it like it's the universal truth, with almost the child-like kind of unfiltered honesty. like he couldn't possibly imagine thinking otherwise.

your heart skips a beat at the words, so genuine and matter-of-fact like he's baffled you'd even think something different. "of course you'd say that." you let out a weak huff of air, trying to laugh off the heat spreading over your face.

"i mean it." he responds without missing a beat. he straightens up behind you, his chin lifting from your shoulder and arms unwrapping from around you, fingers spreading wide over the sides of your ribcage. "you're gorgeous. all of you."

you watch his expression in the reflection, trying to gauge any hint of dishonesty or mockery, but you find none. "...you really think so?" it feels immature, childish even, for a grown woman like you to be fishing for compliments like this, but this tiny, insecure part of you that you tried to burrow can't help but seek reassurement.

intak nods, his hands drawing gentle circles over your ribs, before sliding down to slip underneath your shirt. "mhm. i love your body," he hums, palms carresing the softness of your tummy and the underside of your breasts. "i love how you fit in my arms," one of his hands escapes from under the material and slowly descends down your side and hip, just to stop over your ass cheek and squeeze the flesh playfully. "and in my hands."

your eyes widen momentarily at the feeling - you were too occupied throwing judgemental looks towards your own reflection to notice his hand slipping down. your cheeks heat up even more at the unexpected touch, your hand instantly smacking his away. you can see the typically intak, puppy-like grin spreading on his face. his hand doesn't budge. "hwang intak!"

"what?" he chuckles at the indignant tone of your voice. then he's spinning you around to face him, forcing your gaze to leave the reflection. his hands settle back on your hips, thumbs brushing over the sliver of skin between the waistband of your sweats and the hem of your top as he smirks down at you. "i really do love it," he leans down, his nose nudging yours before he brushes his lips against yours in a barely-there kiss. "i love you." then he presses another kiss, this time to the corner of your mouth. "i love your curves," another one to the apple of your left cheek. "your hips, your ass," two kisses above each of your eyebrows. "your boobs, your tummy, your thighs-"

"okay, i get it! i get it!" you can't help but grin at his kisses, the gentle affection paired with explicit, but no less genuine words making your heart flutter in your chest. you try to push him away half-seriously, but he grabs your wrists before you can and pushes you back a step towards the mirror.

"no, i don't think you do," he catches your lips in another kiss, this time more lingering and deliberate, until your back hits the mirror, making it wobble from the force of it. he breaks the kiss only to smirk at you, and you already know he's planning something just from the look on his face. before you can even try to protest, he spins you around once again, your reflection staring you right in the eyes as your nose almost presses against the glass, and guides your hands to hold onto the decorative frame of the mirror. he wastes no time before his palms resume their exploration, leaving you gasping when his fingers hook underneath the hem of your tank top and draw it up over your chest, revealing your bare tits to his gaze. he covers each one with one of his hands, kneading the soft flesh as he presses himself against your back, lips pressing to the side of your neck.

"those tits?" his thumbs flick over your nipples, and you have to bite down on your lower lip to stifle a sigh. "i always thought i was an ass typa guy, but, man... those are perfect."

you're starting to tremble in his hold, overwhelmed with how quickly the atmosphere went from sweet to heated. "intak-" your voice wavers at the end, but he pays you no mind as he gives your boobs a last squeeze before moving down to your stomach.

"god, i love your tummy too," the tone of his voice goes lower as he watches the way the soft flesh gives under his proding fingers. "remember that green dress you wore for your mom's birthday?" you barely understand his words as one of his hands cups the pudge of fat on your lower stomach and pinches it gently, but you manage a nod. you remember it well - the emerald, skintight dress you were so happy to buy at first, but it took two full business days of your boyfriend hyping you up to actually wear it to the family dinner because you got insecure about how your belly looked in it. he lets out a breathy chuckle at the memory. "i thought i'd bust in my pants the whole night. you looked amazing, babe."

you swallow saliva so harshly you think he might've actually heard it. you remember him watching you very attentively the whole night, but you had no idea that it was because he was getting turned on by one of your biggest complexes. you try to think back to the night, to find the signs you've missed, but your train of thought gets cut off when his thumbs hook under the waistband of your pants. he doesn't push them down yet - just finds your gaze in the mirror, waiting for any sign that this is okay.

you're burning up. you're feeling hot all over, the position you're in is both compromising and somehow incredibly arousing - you're pretty sure your underwear is already clinging to your lower lips, but you manage to hold his gaze steady as you nod, slowly but surely.

he smirks victoriously as he pushes the soft material all the way down until it's pooled at your feet. he helps you step out of it and throws it off somewhere to the side, before both of his hands settle firmly on your ass, kneading and spreading your cheeks like he's been waiting to get his hands there his whole life. he presses a kiss to your shoulder and sighs against your skin as he pushes his hips forward, unable to stop himself from grinding against your backside to relieve the tension building in his pants just a little.

"you're perfect," he groans when your hips push back against him, his clothed erection rubbing deliciously between your ass cheeks as he fondles them in his palms. "this ass... fuck, i've been daydreaming about it. the way it bounces back when i take you from behind- shit..."

you can't tear your gaze away from the view in the reflection - fully clothed intak gasping and huffing as he humps needily against your flushed, bare body, his mouth pressed to your skin in open-mouthed kisses. with the last, deep grind, his lips descend down your shoulderblades and back until he's kneeling behind you, and you jump when his teeth sink into the plush fat of your butt.

"intak, what are you-" you gasp out weakly, but he cuts you off when he spreads your cheeks with his hands, granting himself access to your dripping cunt.

"shh..." he hums, moving one hand to press against your back to make you bend forward, your hands braced on the mirror holding you upright. "this... this is my favorite."

he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips, strings of arousal connecting one to the other and covering the trimmed curls, and intak looks like he's about to start drooling. "so pretty... s'all puffy and wet..."

he leans in, the tip of his nose nudging against your entrance as he inhales deeply, his eyes rolling back as he savors the scent. this makes you even more flustered, and you're starting to consider calling him out for being a pervert, but before you can open your mouth, he licks a long stripe all the way from the front to the back of your cunt, and all that leaves you is a shaky gasp at the sudden spike of pleasure.

your reaction seems to satisfy him, because he lets out an approving hum against your lips before pressing his mouth against them in an open-mouthed kiss. he does that one more time, then again, and then again, and you have to grip the mirror frame tighter when your knees weaken.

"so sensitive too..." intak murmurs against your skin, pulling away just enough to speak, then diving back in with his tongue flicking your clit in short, quick licks. "does it feel good, baby?"

"fuck- yes..." you nod fervently, your breaths coming out in pants as you buck your hips back into his face to chase the pleasure.

you moan out loud when he spreads your ass cheeks wider to finally attach his mouth to your pussy properly, alternating between pressing the flat of his tongue against your clit and circling your entrance with the tip of the muscle, your pubic hair tickling his face as he buries himself in your cunt.

the sounds filling the room are downright filthy - a mix of your moans and his muffled hums, the sound of muscle lapping against skin, and obscene, wet slurping when your cunt gushes arousal on his face.

he devours you like a man starved - circling your clit, then wrapping his lips around it and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks softly, then dragging his tongue through your folds, then back to circling, until all you can do is whimper and grind back against his face desperately, watching your juices drip down your thighs in the mirror.

"takki- fuck-" you gasp out, feeling the familiar pressure building up in your lower belly. your vision goes a little hazy, obscuring your view of the reflection, and you push your hips back more. "i'm getting close-"

he hums in satisfaction, doubling down on lapping at your pussy, the taste of you now the only thing on his mind. "mmm... cum for me, baby," he murmurs without detaching from your cunt, the vibrations making your eyes roll back. "fuckin' drown me."

he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly, flicking his tongue over the bud at the same time - and it's enough to send you over, stars bursting behind your eyelids as your mouth falls open in a silent cry.

he doesn't stop, now straight up moaning against your pussy as he laps at you and slurps up your release until your orgasm passes and you're trembling with aftershocks, eyes falling closed. he presses one last, lingering kiss to your swollen bud that makes your hips jerk, before pushing himself up, not even paying attention to the ache in his knees caused by sitting on the hard floor.

his arms wrap around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he presses kisses to your neck while you gather your bearings. you want to smile at how gentle he's being with you, loving you so thoroughly - but then his warm touch is gone, his hands and lips detatching from you, and when you open your eyes again, you see him fumbling with the buckle of his belt as he grins at you through the reflection in that annoyingly boyish way of his.

"can you keep standing or do you wanna move to bed?"

#taglist ➼♡ @suzayaaa @boptak

©xdjville

[xdjville]

i love ur work omg ur so talented😮🤞🏻🤞🏻can u make drunk piwon headcanons??? İve never seen it anywhere and it just popped on my head lol

hii tysm!! this is actually a topic i'm very passionate about bc my way of being delusional is being convinced that piwon would have sm fun drinking with me and my friends lol

also i'm writing this while rewatching eat sleep play and xyob so hopefully it's at least a bit accurate 😭

cw: alcohol consumption (drink responsibly guys)

#keeho

he's loud when he's sober but he's louder when he's drunk

hooting and hollering doesn't even begin to describe it

whatever little filter he has over his words is gone

so so hyper

just has to get up and move around if he has the chance

always the first one to suggest karaoke and will pout and sulk if he doesn't get to do at least three songs

when he's not running around looking for trouble he's clinging to someone (probably you)

probably won't stop drinking until a) he starts feeling sick or b) someone stops him (probably you, again)

#theo

i'm actually sick and tired of ppl acting this man is calm and nonchalant

i honestly see him as one of the heaviest drinkers in the group

like not in an unhealthy way but i feel like he likes to have a couple drinks and have fun

probably ranks up to keeho with loudness

definitely the 'everything is super funny' kind of drunk

also idk why but i feel like he eats a lot when he's drinking (i might be projecting my own traits onto him)

definitely more clingy with you than when he's sober but not to the extreme

depending on what you're like when you drink/if you drink at all he might leaning into spending more time with the guys but he'll make sure you're having fun as well and that you get home safe

#jiung

i don't think he's that big on alcohol tbh

if he does drink he prefers to slowly sip on his drink and actually enjoy it over getting drunk

also doesn't have an issue with staying sober if you are too or if you want to let loose a bit so he can take care of you

when he does drink he gets a bit more giggly and loud at first

but the energy drains out of him pretty quickly and at some point he just really wants to be alone with you and preferably go to sleep

because of those reasons i do see him as the designated driver more often than not (and i'm salivating at the thought of jiung behind the wheel but that's a topic for another night)

#intak

hyper #2

not necessarily as loud as some of the others (looking at keeho and theo) but very very giggly

he usually laughs at everything but when he's tipsy/drunk he laughs at everything

he's just happy to be here yk

100% the one to suggest going out in the middle of the night if you're drinking at home

if you do end up going out the chances of him getting fucked up are much higher because he genuinely thinks he can dance off the alcohol before it gets to him (he can't)

if you end up staying home you'll probably end up playing every possible game that comes to his mind until he's too tired to think and just passes out draped over you and you have to drag him back to his room

#soul

first of all i don't think he gets drunk really

maaaybe slightly tipsy on occasions but i don't think he's a big fan of alcohol in general??

which means when he does drink he's starting to feel it after a literal sip

gets drowsy and even more quiet

not like sad kind of quiet but just even more in his head ig

expect a sleepy shota laying his head on your shoulder or in your lap and just passing out within the first hour or two of the function

the upside is that no drinking means no hangover so at least you have someone to take care of you the next day if you decide to finish his drinks on top of yours

#jongseob

okay so

seob feels like the type to get a bit more quiet after drinking as well

but not quiet as in absent, he's still there and he's laughing his ass off at whatever keeho's doing atm

he just... prefers to sit down and observe when the world is starting to spin a little

but if you're there he's really fine with whatever you want to do and he'll adjust

if you want to sit with him and hold his hand as you two watch theo absolutely destroy keeho in karaoke then that's what you'll be doing for the rest of the night

and if you want to join the fun or play some games or go on an adventure, he's already up from the couch

bonus: it's confirmed that seob falls asleep with his phone in his hand and whatever was the last reel he watched before snoozing still playing, so expect that when you wake up in the morning

#taglist ➼♡ @suzayaaa @boptak

©xdjville

[xdjville]

hiihiiihiiii can u make p1h reaction to reader giving them cold shoulder bcs of something they did?🩷

sure can, thank u anon for requesting! i don't condone giving ppl a cold shoulder instead of talking like an adult but everyone has their moments am i right 💔

cw: not proofread, other than that none

#keeho

big no no for him. i've already said this before but i see him as a very mature person in terms of emotions, plus i think being a leader he needs to be somewhat good at resolving conflicts, so you being cold to him/giving him silent treatment instead of communicating to him what he did wrong would just piss him off. he'd try to talk it out with you and show you how much you're hurting him by doing this, but depending on what's currently happening in his life and how much stress he's already enduring, it might spiral into a full-blown argument or end up in him leaving you to sort it out yourself until you're ready to talk to him.

#theo

similarily to keeho, theo's not having any of this bullshit. except i think as much as he's as big on communication, he's much more petty and much less patient with behaviors he doesn't accept, so with him the chances of it blowing up are higher. if you keep resisting, he'll just start reciprocating the coldness until you're the one apologizing, and he'll probably remember it for a long time after.

#jiung

worried and hurt. he wants to give you the benefit of the doubt, blaming himself at first for everything that comes to his mind that he could've done wrong, but he'll feel more and more wounded the longer you keep brushing him off. he'll ask you to explain, apologizing in advance and promising he'll do better if you please just tell him what he did wrong, and might start actually spiraling with guilt if you keep this going for too long.

#intak

intak's somewhere in between irritation and hurt. at first he'll sulk when you start giving him the cold shoulder, walking around like a beaten puppy and pleading for you to talk to him. he'll overthink it during the sleepless nights, and after some time the sadness will turn into hurt and anger; he probably won't take it out on you, instead letting the tension build between you until it snaps, one way or another.

#soul

he's confused, for most part. he doesn't quite understand how you can expect him to apologize for something he did, if he doesn't even know what made you upset in the first place. at first he'll try to talk to you a couple of times, but when he realizes you're not going to let it go he'll just pull away, resulting in days on days of silence between the two of you and both sides getting hurt. if it's not you who's going to seek him out first, it's probably gonna be up to one of the members to sit you both down to talk it out.

#jongseob

i think jongseob might handle this situation probably the best out of all of them. he'll get annoyed, sure, but he'll try real hard to put himself in your shoes and trust that you're probably feeling hurt enough to act that way. he'll coax you to talk it out, and if you keep refusing, he'll be the one doing the talking - telling you about why the way you're acting is immature, how it's hurting him, and how much he doesn't appreciate you treating him that way, and he'll do it until it actually gets you to explain.

#taglist ➼♡ @suzayaaa @boptak

©xdjville

[xdjville]

rise and shine

synopsis: a slow morning with theo after a late night

pairing: theo x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slice of life

words: 1k

cw: slightly mature content: mentions of having sex (just a memory so nothing explicit), both theo and reader are naked (again nothing happens)

author's note: inspired by one scene from dr house (i'm watching it like a 100 years after everyone)

you stir awake as the first rays of the morning sun hit your eyelids, your sleep-hazy mind taking its time to process being awake after a long, restful sleep.

the first thing you feel is the gentle warmth of soft sheets wrapped around the bare skin of your back, your chest pressed against the mattress, and your cheek squished against the pillow. then, as you stir again with a sleepy sigh, you realise the faint ache between your legs and in your hip joints.

the corners of your lips curl into a smile at the memory that the pain carries ㅡ the night full of desire and passion, the kind of deep, intimate love-making that feels more like two souls coming together than just a physical act. gradually, you start to remember the low tone of theo's voice, the almost desperate need for closeness in his eyes, the way each thrust of his hips was slow and deliberate, as if to coax more sounds out of you.

you take your time as you finally open your eyes, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the room's brightness. you’re met with the sight of taeyang right away, blonde hair all messy and fluffy from sleep, his chest on full display; he's leaning on his forearm, his eyes already on you when you meet his gaze, his plush, pink lips forming that incredibly attractive half-smirk you love so much. the light coming from the window behind him surrounds his figure like a halo, giving him an almost angelic appearance.

"you drool,” he says, his voice groggy but with an amused edge that shows he's very happy with the way you roll your eyes and mumble into the pillow as the spell breaks.

"i do not," you mutter, still fighting off the remnants of sleep. you try to ignore his teasing, but you squirm under the pressure of his clearly delighted smirk and lift your head off the pillow just enough to glance down from the corner of your eye and notice that you did, in fact, not drool.

his grin only widens when he sees that he's successfully taunted you once again, making you groan and turn your head to the other side on the pillow, no longer facing him. "oh, you piss me off-"

he only laughs at your reaction and wraps his arm around your waist, turning you onto your back; his hand settles gently over your waist as he leans down towards you, his hair tickling your forehead. you don't miss the way his gaze flickers down to your now-exposed chest for a split second, but you wisely choose to ignore it for now.

"morning," he says, his voice now a tad softer, before lowering his head the rest of the way to press his lips to yours in a gentle but lingering kiss that makes the annoyance evaporate from your body immediately.

"mmm... mornin'," you hum against his mouth, your lips following his reflexively when he pulls away to look at you. despite his usual teasing and ruffling your feathers, the way he looks at you in moments like this is so soft and full of adoration it makes your breath catch in your throat. "how are you feeling?" he asks, fingers drawing unhurried patterns over the skin of your side.

"good," you hum in response, your hand moving up to tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. "a bit sore, maybe."

theo leans his head into your touch, his eyes, puffy with sleep, crinkling at the corners at your words. "yeah?" he leans down again, his warm breath brushing your lips as he continues. "means i did my job well, hm?"

this time his poke only makes you snort, the familiar banter making something warm bloom in your chest. "don't get cocky,” you mutter under your breath, taking his face in both of your hands and pulling him into another kiss. he grins into it, but whatever rebuttal he has on the tip of his tongue doesn't seem important enough to pull away this time.

your arms move from his cheeks to wrap around his neck as the kiss deepens, all lazy and sweet, his free hand wandering around your ribs and stomach like he can't bear to stop touching you even after all you've done last night, his warm touch so gentle it makes the tiny hairs on your body stand up.

you reluctantly let him go when he pulls away after a while to catch some air - the pale skin of his face now tinted a light shade of pink, giving away just how much you affect him despite his surface-level nonchalance.

"wanna have some breakfast?" he asks, his face still no more than a few inches away from yours. you nod, and his smirk widens again. "are you gonna make it?"

that makes a defeated groan leave your mouth, for the second time this morning, and your arms unwrap from around his neck to fall limp onto the bed in an exaggerated manner. your eyes fall closed as you stay like this for a while, taking a moment to contemplate how the hell you've lasted that long with this man in your apartment; but you both know you can't really stay annoyed at him for too long, so you crack one eye open as you muster your oscar-winning, faux-annoyed glare.

"but you're making coffee," you state, falling into his trap once again despite how many times he's already promised that next time he'll be the one cooking for you.

he beams, satisfied, and pecks your frowning lips one more time.

"deal."

#taglist ➼♡ @suzayaaa @boptak

©xdjville

[breakmeonce]

3 A.M.

jongseob x reader

wc: 3.5 k

⚠︎: long-distance, late-night calls, soft romance, gentle emotional intimacy, patience, reassurance, slow-burn, cozy domestic fluff, happy ending

summary: Late-night calls, shared games, and quiet conversations that turn into something more. A story about patience, trust, and finding comfort in someone who stays.

The lobby loads in with a quiet chime, the kind that feels louder at night.

You shift in your chair, one leg tucked beneath you, headset slightly crooked as the clock in the corner of your screen clicks past 3:00 a.m. The room is dark except for the glow of your monitor, blue light washing over your hands as they rest on the keyboard—waiting.

You hesitate, then type into the chat anyway.

you: anyone down to queue? just joined

There’s a pause. Long enough for you to wonder if you should’ve kept it to yourself, if this was one of those nights where you log off just as quickly as you log on.

Then—

[lilcomet]: yeah. i’m free

Something in your chest loosens, just a little.

The match starts almost immediately, barely giving you time to register the unfamiliar gamer tag now sitting beside yours. You don’t know who he is. Just a name on the screen, a character moving in sync with you as if you’ve played together before.

The first few minutes are clumsy. A missed shot. A poorly timed move.

“Ah—my bad,” he says, voice crackling softly through your headset.

“Oh!” you say quickly, like the words have been waiting. “You’ll get them next time. That angle was weird.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then a quiet laugh.

You play on, offering encouragement without thinking—little affirmations slipping out naturally. Nice shot. You’ve got this. It’s okay to miss. The words feel easy, weightless, like they’ve always lived somewhere in you.

At some point, you realize your shoulders have dropped. Your breathing has evened out. The usual tightness—the one that tells you to overthink every pause, every silence—never comes.

The game continues, steady and unhurried, and for the first time that night, you don’t feel like you’re filling space.

You’re just… sharing it.

The match ends without ceremony.

A quiet victory screen. A handful of stats you barely register. Your fingers linger on the keys like you’re waiting for something else to happen, something to tell you whether this was meant to be temporary.

Before you can overthink it, the chat blinks.

[lilcomet]: gg

You smile to yourself, shoulders relaxing as you type back.

you: gg! that was fun :)

The lobby timer ticks down. You consider leaving—habit, more than desire—when another message pops up.

[lilcomet]: we play kinda well together

[lilcomet]: wanna queue again?

The question settles softly, not demanding an answer. You don’t feel rushed. That alone feels rare.

you: yeah, i’m down

The next match loads quicker than the last. Familiar now. Easier. He moves without cutting you off, waits when you lag behind, matches your pace without making it obvious. When you miss a shot, he fills the gap. When he stumbles, you’re already there.

“Okay, that one I deserve,” he mutters after a bad call.

You laugh. “It happens. You’re still doing good.”

“Are you always this nice,” he asks, like he’s half-joking, half-genuinely curious.

You shrug, even though he can’t see it. “Only at three in the morning.”

He hums, amused. “Explains a lot.”

The rounds blur together. Somewhere between strategies and callouts, you start trading smaller things—favorite characters, least favorite maps, the kind of music you put on when you need to focus. Nothing heavy. Nothing that asks too much.

At one point, there’s a lull. No enemies in sight. Just the low hum of the game and his breathing through the mic.

“You still up long?” he asks, quieter now.

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t really notice the time when I’m playing.”

“Same,” he replies. A pause. “Especially tonight.”

When the session finally winds down, you’re surprised by the faint ache in your chest—an unfamiliar reluctance. A friend request appears before the lobby dissolves, his gamer tag hovering patiently on your screen.

You accept it without thinking.

[lilcomet]: cool. uh—same time tomorrow?

You glance at the clock. 4:17 a.m.

you: yeah. i’d like that.

The screen fades to black, but the feeling lingers—warm, steady, unhurried.

Like something that doesn’t need to rush to be real.

The next night comes easily.

Then the one after that.

You don’t talk about it—how natural it becomes, logging on around the same time, seeing his gamer tag already lit up. Some nights you play seriously. Some nights you don’t. Sometimes you lose and it doesn’t matter. Sometimes you win and forget to celebrate.

Somewhere along the way, the game stops being the point.

It happens gradually. A suggestion typed into chat.

[lilcomet]: vc might be easier for callouts

[lilcomet]: only if you’re cool with it tho

You are. More than you expected.

Discord fills your ears with a clearer version of his voice—still warm, still a little playful, but softer now, like he’s not projecting anymore. You adjust your mic, suddenly aware of how quiet your room is, how late it’s gotten.

“Can you hear me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “Perfectly.”

“Cool,” he replies, then laughs under his breath, like he’s relieved. “Just checking.”

The nights stretch. Conversation slips in between matches, then lingers long after you stop playing. You learn the way he talks with his hands even though you can’t see them—how his voice lifts when he’s excited, drops when he’s thinking.

He tells you about songs he likes to loop when he can’t sleep. You tell him about the game you always come back to when you need comfort. Neither of you calls it anything more than sharing.

Sometimes there’s silence. Not the heavy kind. The easy kind—him breathing on the other end, you curled up in your chair, listening to the quiet hum of connection.

One night, he misses a shot he usually never would.

“Wow,” he says, groaning. “That was embarrassing.”

You smile, soft and immediate. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with missing. You learn from it.”

He doesn’t laugh this time.

Instead, he goes quiet. Just long enough for you to glance at the screen, wondering if you said something wrong.

“…you always say stuff like that,” he says finally.

“Like what?”

“Like you actually mean it.” A pause. “People don’t usually talk like that.”

You shrug, heart steady. “I don’t see why they shouldn’t.”

He exhales, slow. “Yeah. Me neither.”

After that, something shifts—not sharply, not all at once. Just enough to notice.

He starts waiting for you before queuing. You start staying up later than you mean to. He remembers things you didn’t realize you’d said out loud. You catch yourself smiling at your screen for no reason, warmth blooming in your chest where loneliness used to sit.

It hits him on a night when you fall quiet mid-game.

“You okay?” he asks, gentle.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just tired.”

“Then we can stop,” he offers immediately. No hesitation.

The thought settles between you—how easy that was for him. How natural.

“Oh,” he adds, softer, almost to himself. “I don’t wanna be the reason you push yourself.”

You blink, fingers still on the keys.

Something in your chest tightens—not unpleasantly. Not fear. Recognition.

Later, after you log off, he stays staring at the darkened screen longer than he needs to. Your voice echoes faintly in his head. Your patience. Your encouragement. The way you never made him feel like he had to be better to be enough.

He realizes, quietly, with a certainty that doesn’t scare him—

This stopped being just a game a while ago.

And he hopes—maybe selfishly, maybe not—that you feel it too.

The seasons change without you noticing.

Weeks blur into months, measured not by dates but by routines—his gamer tag lighting up at night, Discord opening automatically, your headset always within reach. You learn each other in pieces. The way he goes quiet when he’s thinking. The way you ramble when you’re tired. The way silence between you never asks to be filled.

Distance becomes a fact of life, not a barrier. Time zones, schedules, small adjustments made without complaint.

One night, the game ends early.

Not because you lose. Not because either of you is tired. You just… linger. Your screens idle, characters frozen in place while the conversation drifts somewhere slower.

“You ever think it’s weird,” he says, voice low, “how long we’ve known each other?”

You smile softly. “We’ve been through a lot of patches.”

He laughs, then quiets again. “Yeah. I guess that’s one way to put it.”

There’s a pause. Not the comfortable kind—something tentative settles in its place.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he says.

Your chest tightens—not fear. Anticipation.

“Okay,” you reply, steady.

He inhales, audible through the mic. “Do you ever feel like—” He stops, lets out a breathy laugh. “Sorry. That sounded way heavier than I meant it to.”

You don’t rush him. You never do.

“Take your time,” you say gently.

Another pause. Longer now.

“It’s just,” he continues, slower, choosing his words like they matter. “I like how this is. With you. And I don’t wanna mess it up by saying something dumb.”

You glance at the corner of your screen, watching his icon light up as he speaks.

“I don’t think you could,” you say.

He goes quiet again.

“…Yeah,” he murmurs. “I hope so.”

The conversation shifts after that—back to familiar ground, lighter topics, shared laughter—but something lingers beneath it. Unsaid. A thought carefully set aside instead of abandoned.

When you log off, your chest feels full in a way that makes it hard to sleep.

And somewhere on the other side of the screen, Jongseob lies awake too, staring at the ceiling, replaying your voice in his head.

Not yet, he thinks.

But soon.

The night doesn’t start with a game.

It starts with you adjusting your screen share settings, the Discord window hovering awkwardly in the corner as the opening logo fades in.

“Okay,” you say, a little breathless. “Tell me if it’s laggy.”

“It’s good,” Jongseob replies. “Clear. You’ve got good taste, by the way.”

You smile, settling back as Spirited Away begins to play. The glow from the screen fills your room, soft blues and greens reflecting off your walls. You tuck one leg under yourself, reaching for the snacks you’d laid out earlier.

“What’d you get?” he asks.

You glance down. “Uh—gummy bears. Chocolate-covered pretzels. And popcorn.”

He laughs. “That’s… a lot.”

“I like sweet and savory,” you say defensively, though you’re smiling. “Depends on the mood.”

“Respect,” he says. “I went basic. Chips. But now I kinda regret not getting something sweet.”

“You still can,” you tease. “Movie’s long.”

The film plays on, filling the spaces between you. Sometimes you talk over it—small comments, observations, soft laughter when something surprises you. Sometimes you don’t. You munch quietly, listening to his breathing through the mic, the faint rustle of his snack bag.

Halfway through, you notice you’ve stopped checking the time.

“I forgot how pretty this movie is,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply. “It’s comforting.”

There’s a stretch of silence after that. Not empty. Just thoughtful.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, softer. “Can I ask you something?”

You pause the movie without thinking. The screen freezes on a wash of color.

“Sure,” you say.

He exhales slowly. You can hear it clearly, like he leaned closer to the mic.

“I know this is random,” he starts, then stops. “Well—maybe not random. I’ve just been… thinking about it for a while.”

Your chest tightens, but you don’t interrupt.

“I like you,” he says. Plain. Honest. No flourish. “More than just—this. And I was wondering if you’d want to try… us. Even with the distance.”

The words settle gently, like they’re not trying to overwhelm you. Like he’s leaving room for you to breathe.

You swallow.

“I do like you,” you say carefully. “I really do. This—what we have—it means a lot to me.”

He stays quiet. Lets you finish.

“But I’m not ready yet,” you continue. “I don’t want to rush something good. I want to be sure.”

There’s a pause. Longer than usual. Your fingers twist lightly in the fabric of your sleeve.

“Okay,” he says finally.

Just that. No edge. No disappointment sharpened into guilt.

“Thank you for telling me,” he adds. “And for being honest.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You’re… really okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d rather wait than pressure you. I don’t wanna be someone you feel rushed by.”

Something warm blooms behind your ribs.

The movie resumes after that, but it feels different—softer. More careful. When it ends, neither of you mentions the conversation again.

But it doesn’t disappear.

The month passes quietly.

He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t change. Still shows up. Still asks how your day was. Still queues with you, still watches movies, still listens like it matters.

If anything, he’s more intentional.

He waits for you to initiate some nights. Makes sure you’re resting. Checks in when you go quiet. Never brings it up—but never makes you forget it either.

And slowly, you notice the shift in yourself.

How you miss him when he’s not around.

How his voice feels like a place you return to.

How the idea of us stops feeling rushed—and starts feeling right.

By the time the month ends, you already know.

You just haven’t said it yet.

The night feels familiar in the best way.

You’re on call, game idling in the background, neither of you really playing. The clock creeps past midnight for you—earlier for him, later in a way that always makes you pause when you think about it.

You shift in your chair, tucking your legs closer.

“Can I say something?” you ask, quietly.

“Yeah,” Jongseob replies immediately. “Always.”

You take a breath. “I’ve been thinking about… what you said. A lot.”

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t rush you. Just listens.

“I think what scared me wasn’t liking you,” you continue. “It was everything around it. The distance. The time zones. The fact that some days we’re tired at opposite times.”

You let out a small laugh. “I didn’t want to say yes and then realize I couldn’t show up the way I wanted to.”

“That makes sense,” he says softly.

You glance at the Discord window, his icon lit up, steady. “But this month… you didn’t disappear. You didn’t change. You waited without making it feel like waiting.”

There’s a quiet inhale on his end.

“I guess what I’m saying is—long distance still scares me,” you admit. “But it doesn’t scare me as much as losing this would.”

The words sit there, fragile and real.

“…Can I ask again?” he says, voice gentle. Careful. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not ready.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest.

“I am,” you say. “Ready.”

There’s a beat of silence—then a soft, breathless laugh.

“Yeah?” he asks, like he needs to hear it again.

“Yeah,” you repeat. “I want to try. Even if it means weird schedules and falling asleep on call and counting days instead of hours.”

“Hey,” he says quietly. “I don’t mind the counting. As long as it’s with you.”

Your chest tightens, pleasantly this time.

“We’ll have to be patient,” you add. “And honest. And really good at communicating.”

“I can do that,” he says. “I want to.”

You sit there for a moment, both of you letting it settle—this new shape your connection has taken.

“…So,” he adds, lighter now. “Does this mean I’m allowed to call you my girlfriend?”

You laugh softly. “Yeah. It does.”

The game remains untouched, forgotten in the background.

And for the first time, the distance feels less like space—and more like something you’re willing to cross.

The quiet after your laughter doesn’t feel empty.

It settles gently, like both of you are aware something important is sitting between you now—waiting to be acknowledged. You can hear him shift on the other end, fabric rustling softly, like he’s adjusting his posture even though you can’t see him.

“Hey,” Jongseob says, quieter than before.

“Yeah?”

There’s a pause. Not an awkward one. A deliberate one.

“Can I ask you something?” he says. Then, more carefully, “Like… actually ask. Not assume.”

Your heart stutters. You straighten in your chair, fingers curling lightly into the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Okay,” you say, voice steady even if your chest isn’t.

He exhales, slow and grounding, as if he’s bracing himself.

“I know we already talked about this,” he begins. “And I know we said we’d try. But I don’t want it to feel like we just… drifted into something without saying it out loud.”

You swallow, listening.

“I like you,” he says, plain and honest. “I’ve liked you for a while now. I like the way you encourage me, even when you don’t realize you’re doing it. I like how calm things feel with you. Like I don’t have to perform or be better than I am.”

Your chest tightens—not painfully. Just full.

“I’ve thought about the distance,” he continues. “The time zones. The nights where one of us is tired and the other still has hours left in the day. And yeah—it’s scary.” A small, breathy laugh. “But not as scary as pretending this doesn’t matter to me.”

There’s a beat of silence, thick with feeling.

“So,” he says, voice softer now, vulnerable. “I want to ask you properly. Would you go out with me? Would you be my girlfriend—long distance and all? Slow if you want. I just… want it to be clear.”

You close your eyes.

For a moment, all you can think about are the nights you stayed up longer than you meant to. The way his voice had become familiar, comforting. The fact that he never disappeared when things got quiet—never made you feel like you had to earn his presence.

“Yes,” you say, warmth blooming behind your ribs. “I want that.”

There’s a pause. Then—

“Yeah?” he asks softly, like he needs the reassurance.

“Yes,” you repeat, smiling. “I do.”

He laughs then—quiet, relieved, something bright breaking through. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I promise I’ll take care of this. Of you. As best as I can.”

Your throat tightens at that.

The conversation drifts after—gentler now, lighter. You talk about logistics in a way that feels hopeful instead of heavy. Which nights might work best. How you’ll leave messages when the other is asleep. How patience will have to be something you practice together.

At some point, your eyelids start to feel heavy.

“You sound tired,” he says.

“Mmm,” you hum. “Didn’t realize how late it got.”

“We can hang up,” he offers immediately.

You hesitate, then shake your head. “Could we… stay on? Just like this.”

“Yeah,” he says, no hesitation this time. “Of course.”

The call quiets. You curl onto your side, phone warm against your cheek, comforted by the soft proof of him on the other end—his breathing, the faint sounds of movement as he settles too.

Just before sleep takes you, you hear him speak again, barely above a whisper.

“I’m really glad it’s you,” he says.

Your lips curve into a soft smile, eyes already closed.

“Me too,” you murmur.

The call stays connected long after—

two time zones apart, distance still real, but no longer something you face alone.

— A few days later, it happens without planning.

You’re on call again, voices low, the game running in the background more out of habit than intention. Jongseob shifts on his end, there’s a soft clink through the mic—metal brushing against metal.

“Hold on,” he says. “These are annoying.”

You hear it again, quieter this time, like he’s unclasping something.

“Accessories?” you ask, amused.

“Yeah,” he laughs softly. “I always forget how many I put on until I’m taking them off.”

There’s a pause. Then—

“…Wait,” he says, like the thought just occurred to him. “This is kinda funny.”

“What?”

“We’ve been talking for this long,” he says, fond, “and we never actually did a face reveal.”

You blink. Then laugh. “Oh my god. You’re right.”

Silence follows—not awkward, just careful.

“Do you wanna?” he asks. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“I do,” you say. “Yeah.”

Your cameras turn on almost at the same time.

For a moment, you just stare.

He’s softer than you imagined—blonde hair falling loosely around his face, roots grown in just enough to make it look real, lived-in. He’s wearing a striped top, collar a little loose, one hand still holding the chain he must’ve just taken off. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you.

“Oh,” he breathes. “You’re… really pretty.”

Heat blooms across your face. You smile, shy but honest. “You’re really cute.”

He laughs, embarrassed, lifting his hand toward his mouth. When he smiles, you catch it—the small snaggletooth on the right. Something about it makes your chest ache.

You don’t say it out loud, but you think it’s adorable.

“I feel like this should be weird,” he admits, glancing back at the screen. “But it’s not.”

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “It feels… right.”

You realize then that you already knew this version of him. The patience. The warmth. The way he listened. The way he stayed.

The face is just a bonus.

He smiles again, softer this time, like he knows it too.

“I’m really happy,” he says.

You feel it settle in your chest, warm and steady.

“Me too.”

A/N: Hey guys, this was meant to be something short and sweet, but I might’ve gotten a little carried away. I really wanted something soft and comforting—late nights, quiet conversations, and that feeling of slowly falling for someone without realizing it. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This wasn’t proofread, so please forgive any typos or small mistakes. Likes and comments are appreciated, and reblogs/shares mean the world.

@ breakmeonce

[kwanspace]

like a soft cold breeze

pairing: jiung x gn!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

"love doesn't have to feel like a strong wind in the middle of a storm. sometimes it feels like a soft cold breeze during a hot night."

you'd usually read this kind of quotes on books and think it was stupid. love so quiet sounded dull, had nothing interesting to offer and would never be enough.

that was until you met jiung, and ever since then, you stopped caring about how love was supposed to feel like, because you didn't have to care, you just had to feel.

and feeling it was easy.

it was waking up and realising that it wasn't hard to love you, it wasn't hard to stay. because jiung did.

you realised that love didn't need to make your heart race all the time, sometimes it should simply slow you down, teaching you how to breathe again and rest without guilt, how to trust that something gentle could still be strong.

he still gave you butterflies, of course, he remembered every single detail about you, he gave you flowers, he wrote letters for you and held your hand. but you never had to ask for any of that.

for sure there were up and downs, but you'd never go to sleep mad at each other, not because you couldn't, but because you wouldn't close your eyes knowing the other would lie awake. you wouldn't let the night carry something you both could solve together and then lay at peace.

he got into your life naturally. and nothing in you had to move to make room for him.

you didn't have to become quieter, louder, or less yourself. your life didn't change to fit love, it stayed exactly as it was. the same routines, the same dreams, the same habits, the same friends, the same goals.

the difference is that now, everything felt lighter. you felt loved, beautiful, and very, very happy.

my asks are open!

please give some feedback, it really keeps me going! thanks for reading ♡

[eluvsp1hskzbtstxtatzaaoenha]

texts with bf! intak

warnings: suggestive (mdni), talks of getting caught

a/n: this little series is actually so fun😭🫣 lmk who y’all want next😛

🫧all of these texts are fictional and made by me, none of them are real!!!

my masterlist!

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 26.7k ❧ warnings: cursing, VERY suggestive/innuendous, reader teases mark a lot playfully but he’s a shy loserboy so the banter is not usually returned and it might come across as a bit excessive/mean sometimes but it’s their version of flirting i promise, blasphemous usage of the word MILF ❧ genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, modern magical creatures au, basilisk mark, sphinx reader, age gap (older reader), college student mark, career woman reader, ft. various magical neos, human renjun, human johnny (and other very special guest appearances), same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: this one is definitely not going to be for everyone i think. but! i had fun with it. it’s got me exploring a lot of new stuff in it: writing for mark, writing this kind of relationship dynamic, figuring out what sphinxes are like in this universe, and some new characters (gasp!) so i had a ball. which of course means the word count is obscene lol. anyway enjoy the (probably) last installment of the strawbsunday universe. i’m not going to call this the official end bc i had so much fun with these characters that i could totally see myself coming back, but as of now this is all i have planned! thank you all for tagging along and i hope you're looking forward to what’s next!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

“You—” Jisung was cut off by Chenle.

“Totally fucked our neighbor! I always knew you were a MILF hunter, Mark Lee—” Chenle’s voice was getting louder and louder, and you were sure that at this point you might not have even needed magical hearing to discern their words.

Friday night. After a long week of work, you finally could relax, order some food, make yourself a drink, kick your feet up, and just have a nice quiet night to yourself. Reclined on your couch in your comfiest silk robe, you brought your glass to your lips as you flicked through some options for what to watch. With delight, you realized that a drama you’d been watching had released a new episode. You’d barely clicked play and settled in when the raucous sounds of hooting, hollering, and electronic shooting and smashing penetrated through your living room wall. Sighing to yourself, you paused your show and stood up to walk over to the wall that your TV hung from, which you shared with your next-door neighbors.

A few months ago—at the beginning of the local university’s fall semester, you figured—two college kids had moved in next door to you. You liked Chenle and Jisung just fine; they were polite whenever you saw them in the hallway or elevator, sometimes if Jisung saw you carrying heavy groceries, the dragon would offer to help you bring them in, and while some people may not be thrilled to have a fairy next door, you knew that a lot of your neighbors felt the same way about you, so you didn’t hold that against Chenle. All in all, they weren’t the worst people to live next to. Except for when their other rambunctious college friends came over for video game nights. They didn’t always seem aware of the noise levels. Thankfully, they were quick to make adjustments as soon as you made them aware. Another reason that you didn’t mind living next door to them, despite the occasional loudness.

You banged your fist against the wall a couple times. It was almost immediately followed by a distant ‘Oh shit!’ and the hasty lowering of their video game volume. A young man’s voice then came through the wall much clearer, as if he were just on the other side from you.

“Sorry!” It sounded like Jisung. You didn’t respond, instead plopping back down onto your couch and playing your show again. No need to have a shouting match through the wall and disturb everybody else in the building. They continued their video games at a constant, but much quieter hum for the rest of the evening, and you puttered around through your streaming services until you deemed your night over.

After putting your leftovers away in your fridge, you were about to head off to your bedroom when you heard the distant shuffle of footsteps over your welcome mat. You paused at the threshold of your kitchen to your living room, waiting to see if whoever it was would actually ring the doorbell, or just keep… well, it sounded like they were pacing anxiously. Finally, there were a couple soft taps on your front door. If you were a human, you weren’t sure if you would have even heard that. Your footsteps were soft across your carpeted floor as you moved to answer the door. First looking out the peephole, your interest was piqued when you saw a young man standing there who was neither Chenle nor Jisung. Though you did have an idea of exactly what this was about.

Undoing your deadbolt, latch, then disarming the alarm, you opened the door just enough for you to cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe. “I accept apologies in the form of cash or groveling.”

“Huh?” The young man stared at you wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and dumb-founded. You took note of his slit pupils, and the two fangs that hadn’t yet fully descended from his top jaw. Huh, basilisk.

“Did the boys not send you over here to be the sacrificial lamb?” You cocked your head and looked him up and down perhaps too obviously, as he shifted nervously under your gaze. A very timid basilisk at that. You eyed the oversized t-shirt he had on that had the same university logo that you’d often seen your neighbors wearing. “You are one of Chenle and Jisung’s friends, right?”

“Oh, y-yeah, I am. I’m Mark. Mark Lee.” He took one of his hands out from where he’d stuffed them into the pockets of his joggers, wiped it on the leg of said joggers, and held it out to you. As he got close enough to shake your hand, you could finally smell him. Sphinx noses weren’t as sensitive as werewolves’ or vampires’—or basilisk tongues for that matter. Not to mention that basilisks just didn’t have as strong of a scent as most other beings. They had a mild, earthen smell that reminded you of peat freshly after rain. Others tended to make less favorable comparisons such as damp caverns or even mildewy caves, but those ideas never occurred to you. Maybe it was because one of your own childhood best friends was a basilisk, so you were just used to the smell and had positive memories associated with it.

You couldn’t conceal the amusement on your face as you delicately shook his hand, now very aware of his clammy palms. “It’s nice to meet you, Mark, I’m Y/N. Now if they didn’t send you over with your big brown eyes and sweet face in an attempt to distract me from the ruckus you all were making earlier, then why are you on my doorstep?”

“Wait, you can look at my eyes?” There was a noticeable drag on his s’es when he spoke, which you noted with a certain fondness. He must be young enough to have missed most, if not all, of the mandatory speech therapy that the basilisks of your cohort and before went through during primary and secondary school. It was removed from the curriculum for being unfair and prejudiced against the creatures, but that was after your time. You could remember your friend Jongin being singled out to leave class three times a week for the “therapy.” Even now he could still recall the name of the instructor who led it, his voice filling with bitter vitriol on the rare occasions he’d choose to talk about it.

“I’m a sphinx, honey. You couldn’t petrify me if you tried,” you informed Mark knowingly. Now you were curious as to why he was out and about without magical eye protection or at least non-magical sunglasses if he was apparently so worried about petrifying people. But, not curious enough to divert you from your original mission. “Now, why are you here?”

“O-Oh, right, uhm, I’m really sorry for bothering you, ma’am, it’s just that I went to go get something from my car but then I realized that I forgot my keys in their apartment and I came back up to get them but I locked myself out. My phone’s in the apartment too, and I tried knocking but they’re not answering and—”

“They fell asleep in the two minutes you were gone?” You cut him off, raising your eyebrows slightly in disbelief.

“No, no, they were already asleep. You see, uhm, I’m crashing on their couch tonight and—”

“Got it, got it.” You nodded. Well, that explains the lack of sunglasses. They were also presumably locked in the apartment. “So, what do you want from me?”

“Can I borrow your phone really quick, just to try to call them and see if they’ll pick up? Again, I’m really, really sorry about this.”

“I will actually do you one better, Mark.” You did a small shooing gesture, and he seemed to get the idea, taking a couple steps back. Once he was off of your welcome mat, you lifted up the corner and grabbed the key that was sitting under there. You held it out to him. “Here.”

“Uh—”

“It’s their spare key, not mine.” You reassured him. “When they moved in, they asked if they could hide it under my mat because it would be too obvious to burglars for their spare key to be under their mat.”

“O-Oh.” Mark gingerly took the key from you. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Mark, one more thing.”

“Anything!” He blurted out, then his entire face flushed as he scrambled to tone it down. “I mean, y-yeah, of course, ma’am, what do you need?”

You couldn’t help but smirk as you requested, “Stop calling me ma’am.”

“Right, sorry.”

“You can call me Y/N.”

“O-Okay!” The basilisk smiled at you brightly, another flash of his not-yet fully developed baby fangs. He presumably was only a year or so out from his first molting. They were cute. He was... cute.

“Goodnight, Mark.” You stepped back and grabbed the edge of your door, preparing to close it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

His eyes didn’t leave you the entire time as you shut the door. Curious, you peered out your peephole. Mark flicked his forked snake tongue out in the air once before he made his way over to your neighbors’ door. The boys had a corner apartment, meaning that despite the two apartments sharing a wall, their door was actually perpendicular to yours, so you could see it from your peephole. You watched Mark unlock the apartment, then dart back over to yours and bend over to lift up your mat. You froze, not expecting him to immediately return the key. You figured he’d just give it back to his friends in the morning. He paused after he’d put the key under the mat again, tongue once more testing the air. You held your breath, waiting for a paralyzing one, two seconds before he finally left again. You didn’t relax fully until the boys’ apartment door had closed behind him, though. You wanted to hit yourself. What were you even nervous about? A grown woman being caught standing by your own apartment door? By some random college kid? Ridiculous. You scoffed, doing up your locks, latches, and alarm again.

“Hi, Ms. Y/N.” “Hi, Ms. Y/N.”

Chenle and Jisung gave you two very polite nods as they passed you in the hallway heading out of the building at the same time that you were coming home from work. It had been a couple weeks since their last video game night when you’d had your unexpected visitor, which was also the last time you’d seen or heard a peep from either of your young neighbors. You figured they’d been keeping an extra-low profile out of guilt.

You smiled back at them genuinely. “Hi, boys.”

The third figure behind them looked at you with wide eyes, and you arched an eyebrow curiously at him, a silent challenge.

“H-Hi, Y/N.” To his credit, Mark’s voice didn’t crack at all, despite the stutter.

“Hi, Mark,” you practically purred his name, not slowing down in the slightest as you continued your path to your front door. You bit your bottom lip to keep from laughing as you heard the fervent whispered back and forth of the college students behind you.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Jisung hissed at Mark.

“Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Chenle concurred.

“What?” Mark shot back quietly.

You arrived at your apartment door at the end of the hall, still well within earshot for you. Opening up your purse to fetch your keys, you unhurriedly flipped through every key on your keyring.

“You—” Jisung was cut off by Chenle.

“Totally fucked our neighbor! I always knew you were a MILF hunter, Mark Lee—” Chenle’s voice was getting louder and louder, and you were sure that at this point you might not have even needed magical hearing.

“Dude!” Mark snapped, and you heard the sound of what you were pretty sure was the basilisk slapping a hand over the fairy’s mouth. “She can totally hear us!”

You raised a hand above your head and, without turning around, waved it. “Hey, boys. Sphinx, remember?”

“Sorry, Ms. Y/N!” Jisung called out down the hall to you, and you could picture his sheepish face in that moment. You went to actually unlock your apartment now, pushing the door open.

“Sorry!” Mark apologized too, as you had stepped into your home.

You just caught his eye and a glimpse of his pink ears as you turned around to disable your alarm next to the closing door. In the moment before the gap shut all the way, you winked at him.

Humming along to the music playing from your phone, you touched up your work makeup to make it a little more ‘nighttime’ and swapped out your studs for some more flashy going-out dangly earrings. You’d already changed into a much less corporate outfit for your night out with your friends that you had planned and were just putting the finishing touches on before you had to leave in a few minutes. You’d just finished up with your hair and makeup when you swore you heard a knock at your front door. Pausing your music to stick your head out of your bathroom, you listened more carefully. Yeah, there were definitely footsteps at your front door, and it didn’t sound like a delivery person dropping a package off and leaving. In fact, it sounded like someone pacing nervously. A very familiar shuffle, if you weren’t mistaken.

Already bemused, you took long strides through your apartment to get to your front door, deftly unlocking it. And sure enough, when you so confidently swung it open without peeking through the peephole first, your instincts had of course been right. Mark Lee was standing on the other side, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. His gaze immediately snapped up to you, and you barely contained your amusement at how his jaw literally dropped when he took in what you were wearing.

“Hello, Mark,” you greeted him, once more leaning against your doorway. It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen him, and you could only guess why he was knocking on your door again.

You could see him blink himself out of a trance, running a hand through his hair, knocking the hood of his forest green hoodie off his head in the process. “Hi, Y/N. How-How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. How about you?”

“Good! I’m good.”

“So… What brings you to my doorstep again? You know where the boys’ key is.” You pointed to the welcome mat underneath his sneakers.

“Oh, Chenle and Jisung aren’t even home right now,” he said off-handedly. “I didn’t come to see them.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I uhm, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mark…” You said his name calmly, but with a hint of warning. Truly, this was your fault. You’d been having too much fun and let this get out of hand, and now you were going to have to let this sweet boy down easy before he started something he couldn’t finish. And you’d had such a good relationship with your neighbors so far, too. Maybe he’d be too embarrassed to tell them. One could only hope.

Mark’s ears were getting redder by the second. “Sorry, I know you’re probably too busy but— Could you maybe help me with my abilities?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Shoving away the strange twinge of disappointment in your chest, you reminded him, “I’m not a basilisk. I’m not even reptile adjacent at all. Sphinxes are part-lion, part-eagle.”

“I know, I just thought that, you know, sphinxes develop your powers later, right? You’re not born with them.”

“Right…”

“Basilisks too. I just thought that, I don’t know, maybe you’d be able to at least give me some advice?” He immediately shook his head at himself. “I’m sorry, you don’t even know me, I’ll just—”

“Hold on, Mark.” You went to stop him from leaving entirely. While you weren’t fully convinced, this at least wasn’t a conversation to be having on your doorstep. You had better manners than to leave the poor boy on your doormat. You stepped back from your door, opening it wider. “Here, come in.”

“O-Okay.” He obliged, walking into your apartment. “Thank you.” He stood awkwardly just a couple steps past the front door, looking around your living room hesitantly.

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea?” You offered, hoping it would calm him down. He looked so tense that you were a little worried about his blood pressure. “Unfortunately I don’t have any Red Bulls or whatever college boys sustain themselves on.”

“Oh, uh, no thank you. I actually don’t drink energy drinks or any of that stuff.” He shook his head, his nose wrinkling. “Tastes too… too much.”

“Hm…” You filled up a glass of water for yourself, and an extra for Mark anyway. He was your guest, after all. You sat back in your spot in the corner of your couch, putting one of the glasses down on your coffee table for him. You took a sip of the other. When Mark was still rooted to the same spot a couple seconds later, you gestured to the other two-thirds of the piece of furniture. “You can sit, my couch won’t come to life and swallow you whole, you know.”

“Right, sorry.” He laughed, looking down at his feet as he walked over and sat on the opposite end from you. Or, as far to the opposite end as he could get. You had several throw pillows on that side. He still looked nervous, refusing to meet your gaze as his eyes flicked around your living room skittishly.

“I’m also not going to swallow you whole.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Mark picked up the glass of water that he had told you he didn’t want, this time looking you in the eye as he gave you an anxious smile before bringing the drink up to his lips.

“Not unless you ask nicely.”

He immediately spat the drink of water he’d just taken back out into his cup as he coughed and choked, and you covered your own mouth as you giggled, not wanting to outright laugh in the poor boy’s face.

“I’m sorry, Mark, that was mean of me.” You patted his knee, then quickly took your hand back. You really were just trying to reassure him. “Now, you came in for a real reason, not just for me to tease you. Go ahead.”

Having finally recovered, he set his water back down on the table to talk. “Y-Yeah, right. Uhm… So, basilisks don’t start developing their powers until they’ve gone through their first molting. Mine was a year and a half ago and honestly my life has kind of been one big shit show ever since.”

“Basilisk powers aren’t all they were cracked up to be?”

“I first partially petrified my human roommate last spring and now I have to wear sunglasses around him all the time or God forbid I’m going to actually turn him to stone one of these days. I accidentally compel him, too, like all the time, and he refuses to let our witch friends make any sort of protection charm for him.”

“He wants to get petrified and compelled?”

“No, he doesn’t want me to think he’s afraid of me. But I’m afraid of what I’m going to do to him. I feel like I can barely be in our apartment except to sleep.” Mark rubbed a hand over his face, visibly stressed and upset now. “Dude definitely knows I’m avoiding him but… I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I actually hurt Johnny.”

“Well first you’re not going to punish yourself over something you haven’t even done. That’s not going to do anything for you or your friend,” you told him firmly.

“Hmph,” he chuckled cynically.

“You don’t know any basilisks that could help you? Your parents? Friends?” You suggested gently. He clearly did need help, but you weren’t going to be his best option. “They might be a bit more useful than me.”

“My parents live five hours away. Not exactly a day trip. And I don’t know any other basilisks at school. My friends have all been supportive but useless. They’re either human or have been using their powers since before they could talk.”

You sighed and nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean. It’s like puberty all over again. A magical growth spurt but instead of suddenly losing all body awareness, growing four inches, and having hormones making your brain all fuzzy, you’re trying to gain an awareness on some new part of yourself you didn’t have before, you’re teething like a giant toddler, and have magic making your brain all fuzzy.”

“Yes, the teething! God, I thought I was crazy!” Mark groaned, vindication and relief all over his face at having someone else validate what’s been happening to him. His features then turned confused. “Wait, sphinxes don’t have fangs, do you?”

You grabbed your top lip to pull it up, at the same time letting your second set of teeth descend.

“Wow…” He breathed out, watching you as you tucked them back into your jaw.

“Lion canines. Retractable, thankfully.” You let go of your lip and closed your mouth, habitually running your tongue over your normal teeth. Sphinxes still didn’t have perfectly average human teeth as their first set of teeth, they were much sharper, with a greater number of human canines. But you much preferred your first set anyway, they were the ones you grew up with, and were a lot less cumbersome than a full set of lion canines, incisors, and carnassials. All the second set was really good for was a party trick. Not that you really went to those anymore; you’d been out of college for years now.

“Have you ever met another sphinx before me, Mark?” You asked.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You knew that sphinxes get our powers later in life, but you didn’t know about our second set of teeth. I don’t know, your knowledge is a little... inconsistent.”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well... my friend Renjun, he’s a Magical Creatures Studies major. He goes on all these tangents all the time. I kind of zone in and out.”

“So you haven’t met another sphinx, but you were listening when your friend was talking about sphinxes getting their powers later in life, but you completely missed the part about lion teeth.” You ticked every detail off on your fingers to make sure you had it straight.

“Yeah...”

You burst into laughter again, watching as the pink that had persisted on the tips of his ears spread down to his cheeks. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

“It sure feels like it,” he mumbled, but you caught sight of a bashful smile on his lips as he stared down at his lap.

“I mean, I am laughing, but it’s just— you’re just— you’re very endearing, Mark,” you tried to explain to him. “I’m being endeared right now— It’s a good thing, just take it as a compliment, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll take it as a compliment.” He nodded. “From now on, when you laugh at something stupid and embarrassing I do or say, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You chuckled, “You’re funny, you know that?”

“You’re the first person who’s ever told me that,” he admitted, looking up from his hands to you. “You know that?”

“Wait, seriously?” Your smile faded.

“No, but you believed me, didn’t you?” The basilisk snickered.

“Oh, hey!” You retorted indignantly. “Not fair! You had me feeling bad for you this whole time with the sob story about your powers! You can’t just—” But Mark had already devolved into a fit of giggles, and you knew he was too far gone for your argument to hold any water. Instead, you watched him fondly as you realized that this was the most relaxed he’d been around you. As he started collecting himself, you took one more sip of your water, then set it down on the coffee table. “Alright, so what’s your class schedule?”

Mark stared at you wide-eyed. “Huh?”

“I can’t guarantee results of any kind, but I’ll do my best to teach you what I know at least.”

“Really?!” He seemed shocked that his own plan had worked.

“It’s not going to be a one-and-done, I can tell you that much. So, what’s your schedule?” You reiterated your question. “I get off work at five every day and have yoga Tuesdays and Thursdays. So you better be available on a Monday or Wednesday.”

“Wait, what’s wrong with Friday?”

“You may have endeared me, but not enough to give up my Friday nights.”

"Of course, right. Uh, Wednesdays should be the best for me. My last class is over at three and I usually don’t get scheduled then since it’s so late in the day.”

“Where do you work that 3:00 in the afternoon is late?”

“Campus bookstore. Closes at 5:00.”

“Gotcha. So, I will see you here, next Wednesday at 6:00.” You could see panic grow in Mark’s eyes as you started to stand up.

“W-Why not now?”

“Because I have other plans, Mark,” you told him patiently. “I’ll keep Wednesdays for you in the future, but tonight I have somewhere to be. You and Johnny have survived this long, I believe that you’ll be able to survive one more week, okay?”

He got to his feet with a sigh. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You started guiding him toward your front door. “Who knows, I might make it worse.”

“I doubt it could get any worse.”

“I am so sorry I’m late,” you breathed out as you sat down at the restaurant booth where your friends were waiting.

“That’s okay, Y/N!” Baekhyun reassured you, pushing a glass over to you. “Here, we got you a water. We didn’t know what you were going to get to eat, so we didn’t want to order a drink-drink.”

“You’re not usually late,” Minseok, another sphinx, pointed out from across the table from you and your siren friend.

“Yeah, is everything alright?” Jongin asked from his seat beside Minseok. You especially noticed now how his s’es weren’t as pronounced as Mark’s, but at least some of his natural sibilance had come back once he got out of that speech “therapy.”

You let out a sigh, dropping your head back against the booth. “I had an unexpected visitor.”

“Ooh, do tell.” Baekhyun’s opalescent scales that sat just under the skin of his cheekbones, bridge of his nose, and forehead shifted with the inquisitive tilt of his head.

“Nothing scandalous, I assure you,” you snorted. “Just some friend of my neighbors, you know, the college kids—”

“A college boy? Y/N, you cougar!” The siren exclaimed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, continue.”

“I mean, his friends did indirectly call me a MILF, but I don’t know if I should take that a compliment or an insult really.”

Minseok and Jongin guffawed at that while Baekhyun’s face lit up with delight. He smushed your cheeks in between his hands. “Oh, I’m so proud of you! My baby’s all grown up! No longer a baby but a MILF!”

“At least to a bunch of college boys,” Minseok pointed out, grabbing his glass that looked like it was filled with some dark liquor. Whiskey, maybe. He always liked to mix it up. “Don’t let it get you too down, Y/N, they probably think anybody above human drinking age is middle-aged.”

“Let it get her down?” Baekhyun scoffed indignantly. “You’re clearly missing three-quarters of the acronym here, Minseok!”

“Guys!” You cut into their bickering. “I don’t particularly care one, how old they think I am, or two, how fuckable they think I am.”

“Then why was one of them over at your place and making you late to our dinner?” Jongin arched a brow, taking a drink of what you knew was a glass of witch’s brew and tonic water. Basilisk tongues were extremely sensitive to taste, so regular alcohol was out of the question for him. Witch’s brew on the other hand was the perfect solution, with no burn and a pleasant, light, flowery taste. Almost too perfect of a solution, as you’d carried him home absolutely shitfaced drunk from plenty of parties after he discovered it in high school. Thankfully he’d both built up a tolerance and learned to pace himself and drink responsibly since then, so you hadn’t had to do that in years.

“Because I kind of just agreed to sort of... mentor him?”

“Huh?” Baekhyun tilted his head to the other side.

“Why?” The sphinx snorted and took another swig of his drink.

Jongin just stared at you wordlessly. Shifting forward in your seat, you prepared yourself to try to explain it. “Long story short, he needs help with his powers, and he thinks I can help him.”

“So he’s a sphinx,” Minseok surmised.

“Well, no...”

“Gryphon that was abandoned as a child and never learned how to fly?”

“What? No.”

“Sorry, that’s just literally the only thing that makes sense other than him being another sphinx.”

“No, he’s a... he’s a basilisk.” You crossed your arms over your chest, already prepared for the backlash from your friends over your choice.

“Then give him to Jongin.”

The basilisk scoffed, “I did not come out tonight to be given some kid. No thanks.”

Minseok gestured to him to emphatically. “See? If Jongin’s not worried, the kid’s probably not that big of a danger to society. No need to help. Which you wouldn’t be able to do anyway, because you’re not a basilisk.”

You held your hands up defensively. “Look, I told him I might not be any help, but—”

“But he was just sooo cute with his widdle forked tongue and shedding molting skin all over your couch that you couldn’t say no?” Minseok retorted, making Baekhyun burst into laughter.

“I’m right here, man,” Jongin muttered, taking another sip of his drink.

“No!” You replied indignantly over both Minseok and Baekhyun’s unrestrained laughter at your expense. “He had an actual reason! He pointed out that sphinxes and basilisks develop their powers similarly. We both are born as supernatural creatures, instead of being turned like vampires, but we get our powers later in life, unlike most creatures like sirens, or fairies, or dragons.”

While Jongin actually seemed to be considering the argument, Minseok and Baekhyun still both had disbelieving looks on their faces. The siren composed himself again to ask, “Sure... yeah. But be honest... was he at least a wittle cute?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I mean, there’s a reason we don’t let you near the animal shelter, Y/N,” Minseok reminded you. “You’d adopt everything in there and never get your security deposit back.”

“I told him it might not work. It won’t hurt to just try,” you huffed.

“Just don’t let him tear up your curtains.” Baekhyun patted your shoulder.

The next Wednesday finally rolled around, and you went through your day at work with the thought of your impending guest lingering in your mind. Or, more specifically, what the hell you were going to teach him. It had been on your mind all week. You jotted down what you were first taught when you got your sphinx powers, which was mostly a lot of breathing. Probably not really what he was looking for, but it was the best you got. It sounded like he didn’t even have much of a foundation, which he needed before you could do anything close to actual compelling or petrification—or preventing such.

Locking your front door behind you, you set your purse down and made a beeline for your bedroom to change out of your work clothes into something casual and comfortable. Mark had already seen you in your pajamas once, you weren’t trying to make any impressions here. You tidied up your living room a little, moving a couple dirty pieces of clothes into your bedroom hamper, then took care of your dishes from breakfast this morning that you hadn’t cleaned before leaving for work. All those miscellaneous tasks took up your time nicely, as just as you had finished wiping down your kitchen countertops, you picked up a familiar squeak of sneakers rushing down the hallway. Glancing up at the clock on your microwave, it struck 6:00 p.m. at the exact moment your doorbell rang.

You tossed your used paper towel in the trash before walking over to the front door. Mark was on the other side, the basilisk panting heavily, panic on his face. Before you could even greet him, he blurted out, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I hope I’m not late! I’m here! Please! I was studying, and lost track of time, please, I’m really sorry, Y/N!”

“Woah, Mark, slow down,” you said calmly. “You’re right on time. It’s okay. Please, come in.”

Holding the door open and stepping back, you beckoned him in with a reassuring smile. He let out a sigh of relief, walking in with his head down, eyes focused on his shoes. You got the two of you settled on the floor of your living room, sitting cross-legged facing each other.

“Okay, so today we’re really just going to be—” You were cut off by the sound of a stomach growling very loudly. And it wasn’t yours.

Mark ducked his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry! Keep going! Just-Just ignore that.”

“You hungry, Mark?”

“Sorry—”

“Did I ask for an apology?”

“No.”

“Then why are you apologizing?” You asked gently.

“Right. Uhm, I had classes and then a meeting with a professor and then I was studying and I’m pretty sure I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I didn’t want to be late…”

You shook your head. “Well, you can’t do this on an empty stomach.”

“I’m—”

“I’m putting a moratorium on the word ‘sorry’ for tonight. You’re done. You’ve hit your max.” You stood up, heading towards your kitchen. “Come on, let’s get some food in you.”

“Okay…”

You rummaged through your fridge to bring out the ingredients for the dinner that you were planning to make tonight after Mark left. Looks like you were going to be moving dinner up. “I don’t know what kind of gourmet meals you’re used to, but don’t expect anything fancy out of my kitchen,” you forewarned him in jest, turning on the stovetop.

That finally got a smile out of him. “Better than the dining hall, I’m sure. And, you really don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. Think of it like this: Would you go on a run, or go to the gym without eating anything? Magic needs energy too, just like exercise.”

“I never realized that.” Mark’s stomach let out another growl then, making the basilisk rub the back of his very red neck, and you smiled quietly to yourself.

“And, I don’t think either one of us could focus much with your stomach rumbling like that.”

Dinner was pulled together quickly, and you took it to your dining table. Pushing aside your laptop to give you enough room to set your plate down, you headed back to your kitchen. “Mark?” You called for his attention as you opened your glasses cabinet. “Water? Wine? Beer? I think I might have a Coke in the back if you want that.”

“Water’s fine.”

You nodded, filling up his glass of ice water before grabbing a beer for yourself and heading back to where the basilisk was waiting for you.

“Thank you.” Mark accepted the cup from you. “Really, this is great.”

“You’re welcome.” You popped open the tab of your can and held it out towards him. He tapped his glass to it, and you grinned, taking a sip before picking up your utensils to start eating.

As you watched Mark dig in eagerly, you felt a warm fondness in your chest for the basilisk in front of you. You wracked your brain for the last time you’d cooked for someone else. Whoever your last boyfriend was, you figured. It was funny, you couldn’t even remember a specific instance, that was just a guess. You and your friends usually ate out, ordered in, or there was the odd occasion that Jongin would host a dinner party and you all would get dressed up to go over to his penthouse—he’d done the best out of all of you, he owned a luxury clothing brand and definitely lived like it. So as you sat here, watching the college student in front of wolf down the simple meal you’d just made for him like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, you felt the sides of your lips upquirk just the slightest. You lifted another bite to your mouth and took another swig of your beer.

“So what’s your major?” You asked, and he finally looked up at you. It took everything in you not to immediately giggle and coo at his slightly bulging cheeks.

He quickly swallowed the food in his mouth and drank some water before answering your question. “Bio… pre-med track.”

“Wow. Human medicine or magical creatures?”

“Both. Doctors should want to help everyone.” Mark had a scowl on his face as he stabbed a piece of food with his fork.

“Good point. When do you graduate?”

“Next spring. One more year.” He took a deep breath, then let out a big sigh. “After this semester. Then med school… If I don’t catch an attempted murder charge for petrifying Johnny first.”

You looked down at his empty plate, then your half-full one. “Let’s see what we can do about that, then. You want seconds?”

“Please?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his big, pleading eyes. “Of course, go for it.”

Back on your living room floor sat cross-legged after dinner, you started where you left off before getting interrupted by the basilisk’s growling stomach. “Tonight won’t be anything big and showy. From what you’ve told me, you don’t even have a foundation. We need that first.”

“A foundation?” The basilisk questioned.

“The times that you’ve accidentally petrified or compelled Johnny, did you feel anything?”

“Horrible and guilty and like a terrible person and that I was a danger to other people.”

You shook your head. “I meant— Did you feel any different physically? On the inside? Or in your body? Not like, ashamed or embarrassed. Not emotionally.”

His face screwed up as he tried to think. “No?”

“That’s what I mean. You can’t even feel when you’re using your magic. Your powers are a part of you, but right now they’re functioning completely separate from you. We need to work on you being able to feel your magic at all before getting around to doing anything with it.”

“And how do I do that?”

“We’re going to go through some guided breathing techniques that I did when I first got my powers, and see how those work, okay?”

“Okay. Uhm, first, though…”

You looked at him attentively. “Yes, Mark?”

“Do you think you could show me your-your heliokinesis?”

“Asked your friend to finish his lecture on sphinxes, huh?” You snickered, twisting around to crack your back.

“Yeah, I mean—”

“It’s fine. Good move, considering. We just don’t call it that.”

“Oh. What is it called?”

“Heliokinesis is the academic word for the general ability to control solar energy, you weren’t wrong. A few different beings can do it. Witches, with the right tools or spells; some fairies; phoenixes at the zenith of their life right before they’re reborn; dryads to a smaller degree; and sphinxes. Us sphinxes call it sol-channeling.”

“Got it. Could you show me some? Sol-channeling? If that’s okay?”

Looking out the window, you saw that there were still remnants of the sunset glowing outside. “Sure, there’s still enough light out.”

The basilisk sat up straight, eagerly drinking in every move you made and every word you said.

“Now, we can only channel, manipulate, and shape existing solar energy that’s available. We can’t create solar energy. So once the Sun is down, that’s it,” you explained, raising your hand towards a beam of orange sunlight that was illuminating a square of carpet in front of you.

Delicately, you plucked the light right out of the air and into your palm, feeling the warmth against your skin as the square melted into a puddle of gleaming liquid amber in your cupped hand. The boy across from you gasped softly as you raised your hand up slightly to pour the sunlight into your other palm like sand at the beach. Tossing it up into the air, it turned into splatters in the empty space between your faces, like an abstract art painting. The deep terracotta light washed Mark’s delighted features in a heavenly glow as he watched it hover there in awe. Like wiping a chalkboard, you took the light back down into your hands again, then gestured for Mark to hold his out. “Come on.”

“A-Are you sure?” He looked between you and the apricot heavens that you were holding uncertainly.

“Yes. I won’t let anything happen to you, Markie. Promise.” You pushed your hands towards him again, insistent. “Now come on, before the sun sets completely and I have to send it back.”

“Alright, alright.” He put his hands out in the space between you, palms cupped together. You placed yours just above them, parting your own palms so that the sunlight fell down into his waiting hands. It had already been tempered, so you weren’t worried about it burning him. Instead, you just got to watch him breathe out in absolute stunned awe as he gently rolled around his little puddle of sunshine. “Dude…” His eyes were glued to his hands. “This is officially the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. And done.”

You laughed. “I’m honored. A bit skeptical, but honored.”

“My powers aren’t cool. They’re just something else that can go horribly wrong,” he sighed, continuing to watch the light in his hands.

Looking outside at the fading sunbeams, you held a hand back out towards him. “I need to send it back. The Sun’s almost gone.”

Mark gently tipped the golden energy back into your waiting palm. You closed your hand around it, focusing on allowing the light to return to its natural state, before opening your fingers. A soft ball of pure, hazy light drifted up from your hand, before shooting out your living room window to rejoin the setting Sun.

“So that’s sol-channeling...” The basilisk murmured.

“One facet of it, yeah,” you nodded.

“It’s beautiful.”

You tilted your head as you took in the pensive look on Mark’s face. Turning back around to fully face him, you could only guess where his thoughts had spiraled to.

“And destructive. Before I could do that, I would melt things, light things on fire, burn... hurt people. Things I can’t undo.” Your voice was quiet but firm, trying to get the point across to him in the most sympathetic way possible that he wasn’t alone in this. He wasn’t the only person to have ever struggled with powers, to have done things he wishes he could take back. “You have got to stop looking at your powers like a curse, and everybody else’s like a blessing. They’re neither. They’re just... they just are.”

The basilisk was quiet, turning his gaze from the carpet up to you. You held his eye contact, easily looking back into those slit pupils with sincerity. “Got it?” You asked.

“Got it.”

Trying not to make your breath of relief too obvious, you rolled out your neck as you focused back on what you’d really meant to start with tonight. “So, some breathing techniques for grounding. Again, we’re trying to build a foundation before anything else. Throughout all of these, I want you to try to reach out for your magic. I know this whole time you’ve been trying to avoid it, right? Trying not to hurt your friend?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t hurt me, so don’t worry,” you flashed him a confident smile.

Mark sat up with interest at this. “I’ve always heard that sphinxes can’t be petrified by basilisks, and I always kind of thought it was just one of those things about our magic canceling each other out or whatever. Like how siren venom doesn’t work on other sirens. But then Renjun said that actually nobody’s powers work on you because you’ve got... he called it anti-magic, I don’t know if that’s right or...”

“Well that’s very dramatic,” you commented humorously. “‘Anti-magic.’ No, we call it nixing, or foiling. Like all of our powers, we don’t come into it until we’re adults, so technically magic does work on us for a period of time. It also fluctuates with our magical strength, like all beings’ powers. That’s why ‘anti-magic’ isn’t the best word, because it is magic. We can use it too much and get drained.”

“So there’s still a chance I could accidentally petrify you or something!” He panicked, his voice rising with fear.

“Mark, you’re not going to,” you said calmly. “Nixing is instinctual to me, like it is for any developed sphinx. That’s why your friend Renjun called it ‘anti-magic.’ Because it’ll seem like I’m not even doing anything, like your powers are just fizzling out on their own. I promise it’ll be fine. It would take me nixing a lot of very strong magic for a very long time to be drained anywhere near levels where my nixing could have even a chance of being weaker, much less not working at all. What we’re doing won’t even come close.”

He gulped. “Really?”

“Really. Let me worry about me and my powers.” You placed a hand over your chest. “You just work on finding your powers, wherever you’ve pushed them to in there.”

“You say that like I’ve got some big cavern inside of me or something,” he snorted skeptically. “Or this mind palace thing that Renjun always talks about.”

“If imagining something like that helps you, then sure.”

“I was joking.”

“This is magic, Mark. It’s a lot more abstract and metaphysical than whatever you’re learning in your bio classes.”

He groaned. “Oh great. I almost failed my philosophy class freshman year.”

“Good thing I’m not handing out grades, then. Come on, close your eyes. I’ll start a count.”

Mark had even less of a foundation than you did when you started out. At least your powers had been tied to your emotions at first—such as the case of a rather unfortunate car melting—meanwhile from what you could tell, his seemed to just happen randomly. When you tried to talk him through recalling how he felt in the moments leading up to when he actually used his powers, he couldn’t find any sort of common thread. The first time, he’d been startled by Johnny unexpectedly appearing around the corner in a clay face mask, but other times they’d be watching movies together, eating dinner, or playing basketball. It couldn’t be self-defense, fight or flight, or even just any strong emotion—one time Mark was scrolling on his phone practically catatonic, glanced up for one second and Johnny was on the floor.

Counting back down from the last breathing exercise you had prepared for the night, you stole a glance at the time. Between dinner and this, Mark had been at your place for almost three hours, that was plenty for one night. “Alright, Mark, let’s call it there for today,” you announced quietly, offering him a fleeting half-smile. “How are you feeling?”

“The same as when I got here. Well, less hungry, I guess,” he shrugged, blowing a couple pieces of hair out of his eyes. “Thanks, though. Sorry I ate your food then just wasted your time.”

“I told you it wasn’t going to be a one and done. I think the only one of us who expected you to come in here and immediately nail everything was you.”

“It’s not that I was expecting to nail everything… just sort of hoping I’d at least be able to do something? Other than breathe?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, that’s fair. Once you can feel your powers, it’ll be a lot different, I promise.”

“Different…” he echoed. “Not easier, or better?”

“Different,” you confirmed with a nod. “Unfortunately, it’s looking like we can’t use muscle memory to get there, which is how I was taught. Since there’s apparently nothing in common with how you’ve used your powers before. Other than—” With a thoughtful frown, you cut yourself off, quickly trying to recall all the stories Mark had told you tonight of him accidentally petrifying or compelling his roommate.

“Other than…?” The basilisk prompted you curiously.

“Have you used your powers on anybody other than Johnny?” You questioned. “Other human friends? Classmates? Random cashier at a grocery store?”

“Yeah, one time.”

“Tell me about it!”

“I don’t know if it really counts…”

“It’s an anomaly, it might help. Who was it? What happened?”

“It was Renjun.”

“Your Magical Creatures Studies major friend.”

“Exactly. He’s kind of got like this list of magical stuff that he wants to do? Like, getting his blood drank by a vampire, experiencing siren venom, that kind of stuff.”

“Getting petrified by a basilisk?”

“Yeah.”

“So you petrified him.”

“Not on purpose! Or, not on my purpose,” Mark groaned. “Renjun’s like actually insane when it comes to that kind of thing. Somehow, he figured out when he was most likely to get accidentally petrified by me and… it happened.”

“Mark.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You need to get Renjun’s notes,” you instructed him.

“What?”

“On how he got you to petrify him. If he’s that neurotic, he was definitely taking notes and found some sort of pattern, and probably kept his notes. We need those notes. Get them.”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “You don’t know Renjun. When I say he’s insane about this, I’m not kidding. There’s no way he’d—”

“Just a copy, he can keep the originals. He can come make the copies at my office so he doesn’t even have to use his printing credits at the library,” you bargained.

“Fine, fine! I’ll ask him.”

“Perfect! Here, if you give me your phone, I’ll put my number in and you can let me know what day I can expect him.” After inputting your cell and texting yourself, you handed Mark’s phone back to him, not missing his shaky fingers. You patted his hand, softening your voice, “We’ll figure this out, Mark, alright?”

“Why?” He looked up from where your hand was still resting atop his, to your face, gnawing on his bottom lip with his baby fangs. “Why did you agree to help me? Why are you doing it so… enthusiastically?”

“I’m helping you because you asked for help. And when I was your age, and I needed help doing all of this, too, I had somebody there with me. I don’t know, call me crazy, but I don’t think all of us are here just to go about our lives by ourselves. I think people are supposed to rely on each other, criss-cross their lives so much until you can’t tell one line from another.”

“We’re all interconnected?”

“Yeah, or at least I think we should be, that’s how we’re meant to be. To rely on each other.” You nodded. “Not to randomly get all philosophical on you, I know you said you almost failed that class. You asked me for help, and I wanted to try to help you. No ulterior evil sphinx motive here, I promise. You can tell everybody not to worry about their poor little Markie.”

Mark’s face started turning pink. “It wasn’t really the sphinx part that they were focused on.”

“Oh?” You leaned back, propping yourself up with two hands behind you. “What was it then? Stranger danger?”

“No, not exactly…”

“Then I am stumped about what it could be,” you replied facetiously.

Mark started scrambling to his feet, his word speed picking up, “You know, it’s getting late, if we’re done, I should really get going—”

You followed him up with a grin. “Yeah, of course. You know, I’ve got work tomorrow, you’ve got class—Oh, is that it?” You breathed out in feigned realization. “Because I’m an older woman? They thought I was going to devour you in a different way?”

“Oh God—” He said under his breath, staring at the ceiling. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. “I’m really sorry, they were just kidding, you know. And I know there’s no way you’d want to—”

“Remember what I said last week, Mark?”

“W-What part?”

Leaning forward just a little, you reminded him, “Not unless you ask nicely.”

His eyes shot open to the size of dinnerplates, and you could only hold it in for a second before you were openly laughing in his face, barely having the decency to attempt to cover your mouth with your hand, which honestly did little to muffle it.

“You’re awful, Y/N,” Mark groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “Is this what endearing you gets me? Torture?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you tried to apologize through your breathless giggles. “Anyway, I’ll let you go, stop torturing you. Let me know when to expect Renjun. In the meantime, I want you to practice that first breathing exercise twice a day on your own until next Wednesday, okay?”

“Right, thanks.”

You didn’t even look up from your computer screen as you picked up your ringing desk phone. It was the ring for an internal call, meaning that it was either the front desk or one of your colleagues calling you, you didn’t need to filter those calls as much as external calls. “This is Y/N,” you answered automatically, still reviewing the timeline that had just been submitted to you.

“Uh, Ms. Y/L/N?” It was the receptionist, the poor guy sounding rather confused. “There’s a… boy here to see you?”

“A boy?” You repeated, bewildered. “What? Like, a child?”

“No, sorry, not like a little boy. College kid, Huang Renjun, says you’re expecting him?”

“Oh, oh, yes!” You lit up in recognition. “Have him wait there, I’ll be down in just a minute to grab him.”

Striding off the elevator, your eyes immediately locked onto a young man standing in the lobby, clutching a notebook to his chest as he peered around at everything suspiciously. He readjusted his backwards baseball cap minutely, checking the watch that was on that wrist as he brought his hand back down from his head.

“Renjun,” you said his name confidently, walking up to him with a bright smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Thanks for coming.”

“Damn, you’re real,” he breathed out.

“Let’s go upstairs, hm?”

The two of you were the only ones in the elevator as the doors shut. “So, what part of my existence did you doubt, exactly?” You asked, amusement in your tone. “Mark knowing me? Or my being a sphinx?”

“The first one,” Renjun had recovered from his initial shock, his voice level as he answered. “I’ve met a sphinx before.”

“And what did you have them do to you?”

“What?”

“You’ve tricked Mark into petrifying you, had your blood drank, and you want a siren to dose you up. I’m wondering what about sphinxes could provide that sort of… rush.”

“I’m not an adrenaline junkie.”

“Your words, not mine.” You held up your hands. “And I’m not judging you, Renjun. Just curious.”

“I don’t know them like that, anyway. It’s my friends’ boss.”

“So what’s on your list, then?”

“I want to solve a sphinx’s riddle.”

One of your eyebrows quirked up, and it was then that the elevator dinged and stopped on your floor. In the copy room, you held a hand out towards Renjun expectantly, and he reluctantly gave you a stack of notebook paper from within his binder. You put the first page on the pane of glass of the copier, lowered the lid, and prepared the setting to make the first copy. “I’m not giving you a riddle,” you stated into the heavy silence that had descended over the two of you.

“Why not?” Renjun whined, reminding you of a petulant child.

The copier shot out the first page, and you repeated the process with the backside. “As a Magical Creatures Studies major, I’m sure you know very well why not.”

“I would totally solve it though! You wouldn’t have to worry about me going insane!”

“You either greatly overestimate your intelligence, or greatly underestimate a sphinx’s.” You shook your head.

“Plenty of people have solved sphinx riddles.”

“And even more have gone insane trying,” you retorted. “No way am I going to even risk making you go insane.”

“I’ll sign whatever waiver you want! You won’t be liable at all!”

“But it’ll still be my fault,” you sighed. “Sol-channeling, nixing, flying, I’d show you any of that. But no riddles.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, “Fine.”

“How’d you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Make Mark petrify you.”

“It’s all in there.”

“Yeah, but we’re going to be here for a little while I copy all these.” You put the next page on. “You can tell me how you figured it out, can’t you?”

“Well, I started by taking notes of as many parameters I could get about when, where, and how Mark was petrifying Johnny,” Renjun started, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “At first I was a bit concerned that he wouldn’t be able to petrify anybody but Johnny. But then I found that in addition to him always petrifying Johnny, one of three things was always present.”

“And what were those three things?”

“Being at home, it being nighttime—aka he was tired—or him being stressed. I figured if I could remove Johnny from the equation but hit all the other three, and conveniently hide his sunglasses, I had a pretty good chance of being petrified.”

“And what if he had accidentally turned you to stone for real?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “He’s a developing basilisk with absolutely no control over his powers, he could have seriously hurt you, or worse.”

Renjun shrugged. “That was a risk I was willing to take.”

“Yeah, for the both of you,” you scoffed, throwing the lid of the copier open and accidentally hitting the wall behind it in the process. “Do you know how awful Mark would’ve felt if he had actually turned one of his friends to stone? And then he had to live with that for the rest of his longer-than-human life? Did you even think about that before tricking him into petrifying you for some stupid fucking magic junkie bucket list?”

The human seemed to be at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth several times before he looked down at his shoes, going silent.

“That wasn’t rhetorical, Renjun.” You closed the lid on the next page, turning to look at him pointedly. He was looking incredibly guilty, but you weren’t going to let him get away with a noncommittal silence. “Look, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt that your heart is in the right place, and you’re just genuinely curious about all this stuff, but your magical friends are not just here for your entertainment. Whatever they do to you, they have to live with too. You know that, right?”

He sighed bitterly, and after another long, contemplative pause, nodded. “You’re right, you’re right.”

“Yeah, I know I am.”

You sent Renjun off with his original notes and hopefully a lot to think about. You yourself didn’t have too much more work left to do, and locked yourself in your office to go over the copies you’d made. He’d been thorough, and you were realizing that Mark really hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called his friend crazy. About thirty minutes before the end of the workday, there was a timid knock at your door, and you put down the papers to go answer the door. It was one of your team members, who timidly informed you of a horrible error that had happened that would put the entire project back by two days if it wasn’t fixed today. It was really nobody’s fault, so you took a few deep breaths, rolled up your sleeves, and got to work with everybody else. It was Wednesday, though, and you kept an eye on the time as you worked, running mental calculations in the back of your mind as to when you’d have to text Mark to let him know you’d be late getting home. Thankfully, it was all solved right before then, and you were able to run out the door at just the right time where if you speedwalked and made every light perfectly, you’d be home right on time.

And so you burst into your hallway at exactly 5:59 p.m., spotting Mark on your welcome mat, just lifting his fist to your door to knock. “I’m here!” You called out to him, making him whip around, the surprise apparent on his features. “I’m here, sorry, I’m here. Got held up at work.”

“Hey, no worries,” he flashed you a bright smile, stepping out of your way to let you unlock your front door. “Everything alright?”

You threw an exasperated look at him over your shoulder as you disarmed your alarm, then led the way into your apartment. “Heavenly Sol, don’t get me started. Computers are out to get us all, I swear.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark nodded, closing the door behind you two and flicking the latch. “Add printers to the list, too. I can never figure out the ones in the library when I have an assignment due.”

You threw your purse onto your kitchen table haphazardly, starting to look through your fridge for dinner ingredients. “Oh shit, I was going to pick up stuff for dinner on my way home, but then everything fucking caught on fire right before I was supposed to leave.”

“That’s okay, Y/N,” the basilisk reassured you. “We can just order pizza or something, alright?”

“Yeah, okay, pizza.” You shut your fridge, rubbing your face in frustration.

“I’ll call and order it, you go get out of your work clothes and stuff. Sound like a plan?”

You took a deep breath. “Sure. Thanks, Markie.”

He beamed at you again, letting you get a full view of his baby fangs. “See? I’m not totally useless.”

“Nobody said you were except you,” you finally chuckled, patting his cheek on your way out of the kitchen.

Jongin had invited everyone around to his place for another dinner party, and you were the first one to arrive tonight. You’d already cracked open a bottle of wine—you snooze, you lose, Baekhyun and Minseok—and were tipping back your first glass of the night as Jongin finished up the food preparations.

“Y/N, how’s your basilisk doing?” Your friend asked, plating a serving of pasta.

“He’s doing alright. It’s been a little rough these past few weeks, if I’m going to be honest with you,” you sighed, doing another heavy pour for yourself. “I taught him some breathing exercises, and those helped a bit, but I can only watch him breathe for so long.”

Jongin made a noise of acknowledgment, but didn’t say anything else, fingertips messing with a silver chain around his neck.

“Do you… have any tips for me?” You asked, used to his minimalist way of communicating.

Your friend pulled out from under his shirt the pendant that hung at the end of that silver chain. It was a black gem that could fit neatly into his palm, obsidian, an intricate weaving design of a snake carved out of the face of it. “Does he have an anchor?”

You habitually twisted the ring around your right ring finger. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Find him one.” He tucked the necklace back under his shirt. “Get him out of his head.”

“Right. Thanks, Jongin.”

A flurry of excited knocks came from the front door, and you and Jongin exchanged knowing looks. You threw open the door to see an excited Baekhyun and already beaming Minseok, the former’s eyes lighting up even as he gasped in mock offense.

“You started drinking without us?!” The siren threw a hand over his chest as he locked in on the glass in your hand and open bottle on the kitchen island.

“Yep, you’re a glass and a half behind,” you taunted, guiding him in by the arm he had around your shoulders. “Better catch up, Baekhyunnie.”

“She opened that not even ten minutes ago,” Jongin informed the other two flatly in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Fuckin’ narc.” You stuck your tongue out at him as Baekhyun started pouring for him and Minseok. Minseok, meanwhile, was over by the vinyl record player, flicking through Jongin’s collection until he picked one that he liked, and swapped out the classical music that the basilisk already had playing.

“I was listening to that,” Jongin complained as a funky, upbeat pop melody started coming through the speakers.

“And now you’re listening to this,” Minseok retorted. “Much better party music.”

“And you people wonder why I don’t invite you to events with my colleagues,” the basilisk sighed, taking out his bottle of witch’s brew from the fridge. His slit pupils trailed over the figures of you and Baekhyun, not nearly tipsy enough for the kind of dancing you were doing, but doing it nonetheless. “Heathens, the lot of you.”

“Oh, like we didn’t all go to college together,” Baekhyun fired back, mischievous glint in his eye. “We all know what you used to get up to on that stuff, Jongin. Before you started playing pretend at being respectable and refined.”

“Yeah, come on, NiNi!” You tugged him into the living room by his wrist, playing absolutely dirty by bringing out the nickname you used to call him when you were little, little kids. When you first met, you couldn’t quite say his name, so you somehow landed on NiNi, which you called him until you could finally say it intelligibly. Even now, you only brought the nickname out when you really wanted something. And according to the now nearly two glasses of wine in you, you really wanted him to dance with the other three of you.

“God, fine,” he rolled his eyes, taking a deep swig of the witch’s brew before letting you fully tug him into the mess.

The following Wednesday found you opening up your door a few minutes early, 5:55. Mark was already pink-eared and covering his face with his hands. “God, let me in, please, please,” he groaned, making you cock your head curiously.

Before you could ask what was going on, you heard a couple wolf whistles and taunts from further down the hall, and spotted a gaggle of college boys heading towards you. Or, rather, heading towards your neighbors’ apartment, presumably, as you spotted Chenle and Jisung in the throng of students. You opened your door wider for Mark, who didn’t even wait for you to move as he ducked under your arm to run inside. With a final humorous glance at the group, you turned around to face the anxiously pacing basilisk.

“And what are you so worked up for?” You asked with a chuckle, shutting your door behind him. “You just got here, take a breather.”

He gesticulated at the closed door, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, because they all think we’re—”

“Having sex? I know.” You laughed again and headed back into your kitchen.

“And you don’t care?”

Pivoting on your heel to focus a pointed look on him, you put your hands squarely on your hips as you told him frankly, “Mark. I’m a grown ass woman. Whatever ideas my two college kid neighbors and their little twerp friends have about my sex life are so beyond the realm of things that I care about.”

“Oh.” He blinked, and you could practically see the gears turning in his brain as he processed that. “Of course.”

With that settled in your mind, you turned your back on him again to attend to your cooking, continuing your conversation over your shoulder. “You should really try it, you know.”

“Try what?!” He squeaked as he was halfway through taking his backpack off his shoulder and setting it down beside the couch.

“Not caring so much about what other people think about you. You know they’re only doing all that because you’re reacting like this.”

“I know, I know,” he admitted with a sigh, his voice much closer now. You heard the scrape of one of the stools at your kitchen island as he pulled it out to sit down and watch you cook.

“So, have you been working on—”

“Wait, do you think I’m a twerp?”

You pivoted around, knife in hand. “Three seconds ago I would’ve said no, except you just interrupted me, so yes, I think you’re a rude little twerp with no manners.”

He looked at you with wide eyes. “Sorry, sorry.”

“So have you been working on the breathing techniques I showed you?” You tossed the last bits in the container, sealing it up before putting it in the fridge.

“Yeah.”

Putting everything into the sink to be washed up later, you spun around to look at Mark eagerly, “Good. Now come on, grab your bag.”

“Wait, we’re done already?” 

“No, we’re going shopping.”

“I thought you were cooking dinner?”

“Yeah, that’s my dinner for tomorrow, it’s got to marinate overnight. You and I are eating out tonight. Come on!” You clapped your hands together in a hup-hup gesture, and Mark scrambled to grab his bag before meeting you at the front door.

“For a lot of magical creatures who were born with their powers, they often see it as shameful to use objects to focus or help them harness their abilities,” you explained to Mark as you stopped in front of your first destination. He rushed to hold the door open for you, and you gave him a nod and grateful smile as you continued, “Save for witches, of course, that’s kind of their whole thing. But for beings like us, whose powers come on later, a lot of times having an external object can help ground us a lot better and give us something physical to tie this new part of us to while we’re learning to use it.”

“What kind of object?” He asked, looking around the apothecary hesitantly.

“It’s different for every kind of being, and even for every individual. That’s why I couldn’t just show up with some rock and say ‘here you go!’ You need to pick it out for yourself.”

“What’s yours?”

You held up your right hand, where a toffee brown gem gleamed from a silver setting on one of your fingers. “Tiger’s eye ring. My grandmother gave it to me when she was helping me out with my powers.”

“It’s really pretty.”

“She said she got it from a witch ‘friend’ of hers a while back,” you commented humorously. “Anyway, anything speaking to you?”

He looked over the merchandise around you, and sighed. “I mean, it’s all cool, but... nothing really jumps out.”

“That’s fine, don’t force it. This is just the first aisle of the first store we’re looking in. Deep breath, Mark.”

“Right, okay. It can be anything?”

“Anything. Doesn’t have to be a stone, doesn’t have to be jewelry, those are just sort of the most popular items. I hate to have to say this but... you’ll know it when you see it. You just will.”

“Y/N.” He said your name flatly. “I have never been that sure of anything in my entire life.”

You tried to keep in your giggles at his clearly exasperated expression. Tweaking one of his cheeks, you reassured him, “First time for everything, Markie.”

Three apothecaries and a 24-hour ramen place later, and you could tell Mark was Over It, capital O, capital I. He had really been trying his best, engaging with every miscellaneous item that you showed to him, but you could tell that none of them were it for him. Leaving the last shop for the night, you opted not to take him into another one, instead meandering away from the shopping district downtown that you had been in.

“I’m sorry I’m such a dud, Y/N,” Mark groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“No, you’re not, Mark,” you tried to reassure him. “You’re just… taking it at your own pace.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better? You might as well have called me a late bloomer.”

“What’s wrong with being a late bloomer?”

“That’s what people tell losers so they don’t feel like losers.”

You rolled your eyes. “And that’s how I can tell you’re still a kid, Markie.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a so-called loser, or a late bloomer, or taking things at your own pace. Part of growing up, and becoming an adult, a real grown-up, is realizing that there’s no one prescribed path and way to do things. Especially when it comes to being a magical being.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re already a grown-up.”

“I suppose.” You shrugged. “Here, I’ll let you in on a secret, hm?”

“Oh yeah?”

“When was your first kiss?”

“What?” He sputtered out. “I thought you were going to tell me a secret?!”

“Humor me.”

He mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“Seventeen, okay?!” He huffed. “Listen, it was my first girlfriend and—”

“Twenty-one,” you cut him off with a shrug.

“What?”

“My first kiss was when I was twenty-one,” you repeated nonchalantly. “You thought I had it a lot earlier, didn’t you?”

“It’s not like I was really hypothesizing about it or anything—”

“But the way you told me about yours, you got defensive, like you had assumed yours was late or something, and that I was going to judge you, because I must have had mine earlier than seventeen,” you pointed out. “But I didn’t.”

“But you’re… you’re so… Why?” His face screwed up in confusion.

“That was my first serious boyfriend,” you explained. “I wanted it to be special. I didn’t expect it to take that long, but it did.”

“And what was the point of this?”

“There’s nothing wrong with whatever pace your life is going at, Mark. I don’t think ‘late bloomers’ even exist, because that implies there’s a benchmark to do something by, and having it happen after that therefore makes you late.”

Mark was quiet for a few moments as you continued walking. “You really think I’m still a kid?”

“Oh yeah,” you ruffled his hair. “Only a kid would be worried about if someone thinks they’re a kid.”

He made a disgruntled sound at you messing up his hair, but did nothing to move out of the way of your hand. “Where are we even going now? Another store?”

“Nah.” You led the way off the sidewalk and into the grass, towards the river that cut through the center of town. Traffic hummed overhead where a bridge crossed the water, and you stopped at a rocky patch to pick up a smooth pebble, tossing it up and down a few times. Looking over your shoulder at a skeptical Mark, you asked, “You know how to skip rocks?”

You tossed your first one, managing to skip it a few times before it plopped under the surface. Grabbing another rock, you pushed it into Mark’s hand insistently. “Oh, gross, it’s cold and wet,” he wrinkled his nose, but readied his arm nevertheless.

“You’re literally a basilisk, dude,” you retorted, watching him line up his shot.

“Rude.”

“Hey, I don’t mind.” You held up your hands defensively. “I’m just saying.”

He got it two-thirds of the way across, and shrugged. “Eh…”

“First one to skip it all the way across wins?” You suggested with a smirk.

“Wins what?”

“Mmm…” You hummed thoughtfully. “I got it! Winner earns a secret.”

“Huh?”

“Winner earns a secret of their choosing from the loser. If I win, I can ask you to tell me a secret about whatever topic I want. If you win, same goes for you.”

“Why would I agree to that?”

You grinned. “Because you want to know more about me, don’t you, Markie?”

He gulped, then started looking around at the rocks down by his feet. “Fine. But don’t ask me anything weird if you win.”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” You snickered, searching for your own rock to toss.

Mark went first, and his almost made it, but lost momentum about eighty percent of the way there. You went next, flicking your wrist the complete wrong way, only getting one skip before your rock pathetically plopped under the surface. The basilisk next to you giggled. “Are you even trying?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Like you’re doing any better, you little shit.”

“Real mature,” he shook his head, brushing off some dirt from the rock he just picked up. “Real grown-up of you. Who’s the kid here, allegedly?”

“Just throw it.” You were already searching for your next pebble.

“So, did you say anything to Renjun, when you met him?”

“What do you mean? Of course I talked to him.”

“No, I mean like—” Mark flicked his arm a couple times in practice shots, maintaining his hold on his stone. “He apologized to me, for tricking me into petrifying him and bought me lunch. Renjun doesn’t apologize.”

“Oh,” you feigned surprise. “That’s nice of him.”

“Y/N.”

“I didn’t threaten him, if that’s what you’re asking. We chatted. He apparently thought some more afterwards.” You finally spotted a lovely lighter colored one, with dark, perfectly circular spots all along it. You couldn’t quite make out the colors in the negligible light from the moon and lone streetlamp all the way up on the bridge, but you liked the weight of it in your hand.

You looked up just in time to watch Mark skip his rock all the way across the river, skidding up onto the shore on the other side. He jumped up and down victoriously, turning around to look at you, excitement on his features. “Yes! Did you see that?!” He cheered, an ecstatic grin on his face. “Ha! Take that!”

“Good job, Markie,” you snickered, holding a hand up for him to high-five zealously. Your palm stung where he had smacked it enthusiastically, a loud slap of skin hitting skin ringing out. Taking your phone out, you turned on your flashlight to look at the rock that you had found, taking in the mossy green color and dark red spots. “Huh, cool.”

As you were about to toss it back into the water, Mark’s hand darted out to grab your wrist. “Wait a second…”

“What?” You looked at him curiously. “You want to try to make it across twice? You won’t get two secrets from me. Sorry, one-time offer.”

“No,” he shook his head, holding your hand open to stare down at the stone. “It’s… it’s a nice rock.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you agreed, continuing to study his face. “Do you… want to keep it, Mark?”

“Do you mind?”

“No, go for it.” You turned your hand over, depositing it into his palm. “All yours.”

He continued looking at it with fascination, fingertip tracing over the textured edges. “Y/N… I think this is my anchor.”

“I think you’re right.” You patted him on the shoulder. “Congrats, dude.”

“Hey, can I uh, take a raincheck on asking you for that secret? I kind of want to think on it.”

“Sure. Use it wisely.”

“I just got home, Sehun, what could be so pertinent that you need to call me now?” You sighed as you answered your ringing cell phone some weeks later. “And why are you still at work? You said only ten more minutes, thirty minutes ago.”

Your coworker sounded simultaneously guilty, nervous, and as exasperated as you, “I know, but Director Han was asking to see some of the numbers and then, well... I got this email from Mr. Shin. I don’t know how to respond. I forwarded it to you.”

Sitting down at your kitchen table, you opened your laptop, which turned on already to your work email. Right at the top was a forwarded email from Oh Sehun, and you clicked on it. You skimmed it over, your lip curling with distaste. Mr. Shin was a project manager in another department, and was apparently trying to assign “urgent tasks” to your employees that needed to be on his desk first thing tomorrow. Sehun would’ve needed to stay all night and/or come in ridiculously early tomorrow in order to get this done. “I’ll handle Mr. Shin, don’t worry about doing any of this. You go home. Now.” You directed Sehun. “And I’ll remind Director Han in the morning about the company’s overtime policy as well.”

“Right. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Sehun.”

Setting your phone aside, you quickly drafted an email in reply to Mr. Shin, keeping your snark to appropriate corporate levels, reminding him that he couldn’t assign tasks to your employees, and any requests such as this had to come through you first. As well as outlining the unreasonableness of the time demands.

“So what do you do?” Mark asked, suddenly reminding you of his presence. It was Wednesday, though your usual dinnertime ritual had been interrupted before it could even start, Sehun’s call coming as soon as the college student had stepped foot in your apartment.

“I’m a project manager at a company that does network security for other companies,” you informed him, not taking your eyes off your screen as you went to re-read the email for a quick proofread.

“Project manager?”

“I manage a bunch of other people’s projects instead of actually working on them myself, and get paid more than them for it.” You filled in a missing word, and deeming the email finished, pressed send, shutting your laptop. Looking up at Mark, who had an adorably confused look on his face, you gave him a smirk. “When you grow up, Markie, you’ll understand that most corporate jobs are fake and it’s all about your title and how well you can negotiate your salary and bullshit in front of your boss.”

“So you don’t like your job?”

You shrugged. “I like it just fine. It pays for me to live here by myself, after all. I have reasonable hours, and plenty of free time, vacation days, and disposable income. I keep my subordinates and my superiors happy. But if I got a better offer at another company, and my company couldn’t match it, I would have no qualms about packing it up next week.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened.

“Seriously.”

“Just-Just leaving?” His voice rose with alarm.

“The company, yeah. Not here. I have a life here. My family, and my friends,” you explained, standing up from your dining table.

You could see him visibly relax at that. “Oh, okay.”

“And my Markie,” you teased, pinching his cheek as you passed him on your way to the kitchen.

He squirmed a little, but didn’t knock your hand away. “Hey...”

You laughed to yourself, stopping at the sink to wash your hands before starting on dinner.

“Am I not your friend?” Mark’s question stopped you as you were grabbing ingredients from the fridge.

“Huh?” It was your turn to be confused. Your hand hovered over a bell pepper.

“You said you have your family, your friends, and me. You didn’t include me in your friends. Am I not your friend?” His voice was closer now, and you shut the door to turn towards it, not expecting him to be right on the other side. You jumped in your skin a bit, but that wasn’t the only reason your heart was racing, and a shiver shot up your spine all the way to the back of your neck. Mark’s dark, slit pupils were focused on you with such an intensity that you would’ve thought he were trying to petrify you if the both of you didn’t already know that that wouldn’t work. There was something so startlingly adult in his gaze, all sense of boyish charm that his features usually held gone as the overhead lights of your kitchen cast them in harsh shadows and angles. For the first time ever when you looked at Mark, you were reminded that basilisks were technically predators.

You laughed, hoping he couldn’t hear how nervous you were in it. Wishing your heart to still, you squeezed his upper arm reassuringly. “Oh, no, of course you’re my friend. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you out like that.”

Were his arms always this toned? Or was this just the first time you noticed it?

Mark held your gaze for another moment before he blinked, shook his head, and smiled, “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry about that. School’s just fried my brain, you know?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled back, patting his shoulder before opening the fridge again.

“You need any help?”

“Sure, sure. You mind chopping some vegetables?” You held the bell pepper out to him.

He nodded dutifully. “On it!”

As he started on that task with the same eagerness to please that he always had, you found that you couldn’t box him back in as just that cute bumbling college kid who had appeared on your doorstep a few weeks ago. Gently pressing your hand to his back to let him know that you were skirting around behind him with your own knife, you took note of how firm it was under your fleeting touch, hidden under another one of his school t-shirts that hung off his shoulders in such a way that it seemed as though every readjustment of his arms caused the motion to catch your gaze. When he asked you to assess the cuts he was making, you had to reach over to adjust how he was holding the bell pepper and knife, listening to his own heartbeat for a twofold reason: to not have to hear to your own spike as your gaze dragged over his forearms and hands where they gripped the handle, and because you were curious. You weren’t a fool, you knew Mark was attracted to you superficially the moment you opened your door the first night. But what about now?

You carefully made a couple minute adjustment to his fingers, letting your own fingertips graze over his skin and linger for just a moment longer than necessary, as if you were making extra certain he had the right position. To your satisfaction, you heard his heart pick up to more of a skitter, and his breaths through his nose quickened. Then, you let go of him as quick as you’d descended.

“Try that now,” you murmured. He pushed the blade down and sliced it through the red pepper easily, at the perfect width. You squeezed right at the bend of his arm approvingly as you praised him, “Good job, Mark.”

“T-Thanks.” The tips of his ears were red, and you could feel his arm tense under your grasp. Taking your hand back to pick your blade up again, you then went back to chopping your own ingredients.

A few weeks later, and Mark had been progressing pretty well now that he had an anchor. You’d taken his stone to a local coven’s shop downtown to get it turned into a pendant so he didn’t have to worry about remembering to put it in his pocket every day. Interestingly when given free rein to match the carving to him without either of your input, the witches had crafted a lion instead of anything serpentine, as was popular for basilisks. On a Wednesday morning, you had just settled into your desk at work when your phone buzzed with a text from Mark.

[markie: i am SO sorry but my prof just announced a study session tonight and i NEED to attend. are you free any other time this week? if not, next week is great as usual!]

[you: saturday. 10:30 a.m. be there or be square]

[markie: be there or be square? i forgot how old you are]

[you: nvm don’t come over you ungrateful twerp]

[you: i was joking, Sol forbid women do anything]

[markie: nooooooo im so sorry 🥺🥺🥺]

[you: nice try but those emojis are doing nothing you googoo gaga ass bitch]

[markie: i'll bring bagels?]

[you: fine. no bagels no entry]

[markie: 🫡]

Saturday at 10:29 a.m. there was a knock at your front door. Mark was in fact on the other side, holding up a brown paper bag with a logo of a nearby bakery on the side.

“Hey, come on in.” You smiled breathlessly, readjusting the toddler on your hip.

“Thanks.” He shut the door behind him, then nodded to the child. “So uh, anything new, Y/N?”

“He’s not mine,” you replied frankly. “This is my nephew. I’m emergency babysitting, hope you don’t mind. We had already rescheduled once, and it was last-minute.”

“No, of course not. Little guy’s cute.” Mark gently poked MinMin’s chubby cheek, making the little boy giggle, and the basilisk giggle back in turn. “So this is what a baby sphinx looks like...”

“Not a sphinx, he’s a wittle witch.” You cooed at the baby in your arms, gently pinching his tummy to elicit another joyous laugh.

“Huh?”

“He’s not actually related to me, he’s my friend’s kid. I’ve just known Jongdae—his dad—for so long that I get to be Aunt Y/N.”

“That’s really nice... So what’s his name?”

“Everyone just calls him MinMin. I don’t think the poor guy will ever be called by his real name unless he’s in trouble.”

“Oof, the full name scolding.”

“Speaking of... Did you remember, Mark Lee?”

“Ouch. You can literally see the bag in my hands.” He shook the bag before putting it on the dining table.

“I meant your homework, not the bagels.”

“Oh.” Mark grabbed a couple dishes from your kitchen cabinets, setting them at your usual places before doing the same with napkins. “Yes, I did that too.”

You sat down, settling MinMin in your lap as you peered into the bag for your usual bagel order, setting it on your plate. “Alright, then show me.”

“Uh... with MinMin here?” Mark asked uncertainly, looking at the child.

“Oh, right. Hold on.” You stood up and walked over to the diaper bag Jongdae had dropped off when he’d shown up and deposited MinMin into your arms in a rushed panic. His wife was an emergency medicine doctor and had gotten called into a shift at the ER in the wee hours of the morning, but your friend was already booked to perform at a wedding that day, and the only babysitter he could find at the last minute was you. You were more than happy to take MinMin for the day, even with your prior arrangements with Mark.

Rooting around through a couple of the pockets, moving aside diapers, snacks, and spare changes of clothes, you finally secured what you were looking for. A teeny, tiny, baby-sized pair of sunglasses. Taking him and the glasses back over to your spot in front of Mark, you sat MinMin down in your lap and gently pulled the green Keroppi-themed sunglasses onto the child’s face. They secured around the back of his head with a strap, which you adjusted as you spoke to Mark, “He would probably be fine, but just in case.”

Mark still seemed hesitant.

“His parents are witches, these are enchanted,” you reassured the basilisk, tapping the frames. “And I’ll be nixing anything you send our way. He’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Aren’t we supposed to eat first?” He sighed, gesturing to his bagel that he hadn’t even been able to take a bite of.

“You’re right, you’re right,” you relented. You were a few bites into your meal when MinMin had finished off his sippy cup. Picking up the empty container, you took it and the toddler with you as you stood up from the chair. “Oh, all done, bub? Let’s get you something else.”

Opening your fridge, you started pointing out the options to the child, “Let’s see… we have water, your dad left you a juice box… or we can open the chocolate milk we grabbed from the corner store before Markie got here?”

“Choco!” MinMin chirped excitedly, and you chuckled as you took out the carton. As you turned to grab the sippy cup, you weren’t expecting to see Mark turned around and peering at you with interest on his features, his eyes locked on the jug in your hand. You raised an eyebrow at him, continuing your task of rinsing out the previous drink before cracking open the carton.

“Mark…” You said knowingly. “Do you want chocolate milk?”

“Please?” He replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure.” You smiled to yourself as you grabbed another cup from your cabinet, filling that and MinMin’s up before putting the chocolate milk back. Handing MinMin his sippy cup to hold, you carried him on one hip and Mark’s glass with the other hand, setting it down in front of the young man as you went to sit back down.

“Thank you!” He beamed, immediately picking it up and taking a big gulp.

You had the same fond smile on your face as you immediately saw his dark milk mustache, handing him a napkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you!” MinMin echoed, lifting his own sippy cup to his mouth. “Thank you thank you!”

“Aww, you’re welcome, MinMin,” you giggled, patting the top of the boy’s head.

“Alright, you’re doing pretty good,” you declared as you’d reached a stopping point for the day.

He ducked his head bashfully. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Aw, thanks.” You stood up, grabbing the napkin from MinMin’s snack to toss in your kitchen trash. The boy was playing with some toys next to the two of you on the floor of your living room.

“So uh—” Mark cleared his throat over a voice crack. “What are you doing for the rest of the day? Do you have MinMin all day or…?”

“Jongdae said the reception won’t be over until late tonight. But his wife should get off sooner than that.” You tidied up a couple miscellaneous items in your kitchen as you chatted. “And what are you doing today, Mark?”

“Well—Woah!” At his sudden exclamation and the small giggle that followed, you peeked up from the dish you were drying to see Mark cautiously holding his hands up like he was under arrest as MinMin floundered around in his lap—you guessed he had fallen into it at first—for a second before righting himself and plopping down properly. “Uh… hi, buddy?” Mark said, his lack of self-confidence evident in the high pitch of his voice.

“Hi!” MinMin replied cheerily, his attention otherwise on the toy in his hand.

“You two alright in there?” You questioned, not bothering to hide the amusement in your tone.

“He just kind of sat down, I don’t know,” he quickly explained, still not lowering his hands.

“If you’re okay with him being there, that’s fine.”

“Y-Yeah!”

“You sure?” You walked back over, sitting down in front of the two boys so you could reach out and teasingly pinch MinMin’s nose. “You look terrified. He’s a baby witch, but he won’t do anything to you, promise.”

“It’s just… I have an older brother, and I’m the youngest cousin,” he admitted. “Haven’t really been around a lot of babies. Basilisk or otherwise.”

“Me neither, before MinMin,” you replied in understanding. “Only child, and so were my parents.”

“Wow, really?”

“Sphinxes are rare, remember?”

“I mean, I knew that, but I never really thought about what that really meant like, for you. Like, your family, that kind of stuff.”

You shrugged as a sort of ‘it is what it is’ gesture. “So, you never did tell me what you’re doing today.”

“Oh, uhm, well, we’re all having a movie night, at Chenle and Jisung’s later. And I was wondering if you—”

“Would let you stay here until then so you don’t have to go all the way back home then come all the way back here?” You finished knowingly, eyebrow quirking up.

“Yeah! Yeah, exactly,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Sure,” you agreed. “Looks like MinMin isn’t going to let you go anytime soon, anyway.” You indicated towards the toddler who had slowly started slumping over in Mark’s lap, very clearly about to nap.

“Uh, what do I do?” He asked you with wide eyes.

“He can sleep there, or I can take him.”

“Maybe you should…”

You nodded, standing up to go over to MinMin’s bag and pull out a floor mat, stuffed animal, and baby monitors. After setting everything up in a clear area of your floor, you scooped the boy up out of Mark’s lap and deposited him onto the mat on his back. You watched as he rolled around and readjusted until he was comfy, eyes fluttering shut completely and breathing evening out. Satisfied, you walked back over to Mark and offered him a hand up off the ground. He took it, seeming confused as you then led him away from the living room and towards your bedroom. At your room, Mark stopped in the threshold like crossing in would burn him alive, as you flopped onto one side of your bed, set the baby monitor on your nightstand, and grabbed your laptop. You scoffed and patted the other side of the bed, “Do you need to be invited inside like a vampire? Please, come in, Mark.”

“I’ve never been in your bedroom,” he muttered, taking a hesitant step in, his eyes focused on his feet.

“Really?” You scrounged through your memories, and came up empty. Shrugging, you patted the empty space on your bed insistently again. “First time for everything. Come on, we can’t watch TV out there with MinMin napping.”

He tentatively sat down cross-legged, his entire body noticeably tense as you slumped into your pillows and started scrolling through your options.

“You pick,” you declared, pushing the device towards him. “I’m in the middle of a drama and if I put it on, you’ll be confused.”

“I don’t mind, you can put on what you want,” he nudged the laptop back to you.

“Nope, I don’t need a twerp making fun of my drama preferences.” You pushed it back.

“Not a twerp. And I won’t make fun of it.” He pushed it over again.

“On one condition,” you bargained, pointing a finger at him threateningly. “You need to get invested. No scrolling on your phone. I’ll pause and answer any questions, explain everything for you. But I need you to be an active watcher with me. Deal?”

“Deal.” He nodded quickly.

As you queued up the next episode, you explained the basic premise, “It’s set in modern day, but there’s flashbacks from all different time periods. It’s about a phoenix who was cursed hundreds of years ago and can never remember her past once she reincarnates. This is obviously difficult for her vampire lover, who now has to win her over again with each reincarnation, but they’ve made it work so far. Except he wasn’t there when she had her last reincarnation, because she got into an accident while he was away at work or something. So in her amnesiac state after reincarnation, she wandered off, and he ended up losing her for long enough for her to have started a completely new life. And by the time he finds her again, she now has a new partner!”

Mark was nodding along, having listened to everything with rapt attention like you were teaching him about his powers again. “So that’s where this episode starts?”

“No, Markie,” you laughed and patted his leg. “That was just the first half of the pilot. We’re about to start episode eight.”

“Wait, that’s it?!” Mark scrolled down to the bottom of the list of episodes in disbelief. “But they just can’t leave it there!”

“The season is still premiering,” you informed him with a chuckle, readjusting your pillow under your head. “I think there’s maybe five more episodes?”

He had gradually sat back against the pillows at the head of your bed over the course of the two episodes you’d watched, and ran a hand through his hair as he let out a disgruntled sigh. “You’ve got to tell me how it ends.”

“It premieres on Fridays at 8:00.”

His brows knit together with confusion as he tried to follow the conversation. “It’s okay, I won’t make you wait five days to watch it with me.”

It was your turn to be confused for a beat, and then you realized that he thought you were offering to not watch new episodes when they premiered on Fridays and instead watch them with him when he came over on the following Wednesday. “No, Mark, if you want to watch it, you can come here and watch it. On Friday.” You clarified, then at his apparent surprise, tacked on, “With me.”

“But I thought you didn’t want to give up your Friday nights?”

“Yeah, because I’ve been watching this,” you gestured to the laptop screen. “No magic, that stays on Wednesdays. Fridays are for ‘Our Love from the Ashes’ only. Deal?”

You held your pinky finger out to him. He looked down at it nervously, then hooked his with it. “Deal,” he nodded, shaking pinkies in a very business-like manner.

At the same time, you started hearing the babbling sounds of MinMin waking up, and your phone screen lit up with a text. You grabbed both the baby monitor and your phone as you rolled off your bed, checking your messages and heading for your door. Covering your mouth, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“What?” Mark was following you, and stopped when you did by the threshold.

“Jongdae’s gig got cut short. He’ll be by to get MinMin soon,” you said, reading the message from your friend again.

“‘Got cut short?’”

You looked up at the basilisk as you said plainly, “Groom got cold feet, apparently.”

His eyes widened. “Oh my god…”

There was a knock at your front door less than an hour later. “MinMin, that’s your Dada!” You told the toddler enthusiastically, pulling on his last shoe as he sat in your lap.

He kicked his feet excitedly, making the task more difficult. “Eee!”

“Mark, can you get his diaper bag for me?” You requested of the basilisk, who was standing off to the side uncertainly.

“Yeah, of course.” He quickly went to oblige.

You walked over to the front door holding one of MinMin’s hands, and opened it for your friend. Jongdae was still in the full suit he was meant to perform in, bowtie and all, and stepped inside to give you a hug hello. “Hi, Y/N,” he patted your back. “Thank you again.”

“Hey, Jongdae,” you hugged your friend back. “No problem, he was great for us. I feel so sorry for that poor bride, though.”

“I know, I know.” He shook his head.

“Please tell me you’re still getting paid, right? At least a half-day or a deposit or something?”

“I keep my deposit, yeah. I usually don’t insist on much more if it’s not a mutual cancellation. Feel too bad…” He rubbed the back of his neck before picking up his son, focusing a much brighter smile on him. “Hi, MinMin! Were you good for Aunt Y/N?”

The boy nodded quickly. “Yeah!”

Jongdae then turned back to you, “So who did you say was coming over again? Baek?”

Mark finally approached from where he had been awkwardly hovering by your dining table just behind Jongdae, holding MinMin’s diaper bag. You stepped in to make introductions, grabbing Mark’s arm to bring him closer. “Jongdae, this is Mark, the basilisk I’ve mentioned, remember? Mark, this is Jongdae.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mark said politely, offering out the bag.

“You too.” Jongdae accepted the bag, giving the younger man a quick, mildly intrigued once-over before looking back to you. “We owe you one, Y/N.”

“No you don’t, you know he’s welcome here anytime. He’s a little angel.”

“For now. The terrible twos are around the corner,” your friend scoffed, turning towards the door again.

“You’re going to jinx yourself,” you warned him, grabbing the door handle to hold it open for him.

“I’ll throw some salt over my shoulder when I get home.” He shook his head, then gave you and Mark a nod goodbye. “See you two. Say bye, MinMin.”

“Bye!” The boy waved zealously over his dad’s shoulder, and you grinned and waved back before shutting the door behind them.

Turning back to your one remaining guest, you tilted your head to ask, “When does movie night start?” Before Mark could answer, however, the sounds of explosions and engines revving came through your living room wall, albeit slightly muffled. “Right now?” You guessed, amused.

“Oh, didn’t even realize the time…” Mark’s ears were pink as he looked at his phone as if checking said time.

“It was very sweet of you to stay, Mark, but you could’ve gone to movie night. You saw how good MinMin was, I would’ve been fine with him on my own,” you smiled and squeezed his arm appreciatively, herding him towards the door.

“There’s still dishes—”

“You want to do my dishes?” You laughed. “College boy who wants to do dishes instead of go to a movie night with his friends? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, I just—I don’t know, it’s not fair. You do everything.”

“It’s my home. You’re my guest.” You cocked your head curiously. “It’s okay, Mark.”

“Well, I’m here a lot, you know? You’re already helping me with my powers and stuff. I want to help you too.”

“Okay, you can start doing your own dishes if that’ll make you feel better,” you agreed skeptically. “Next week. Go on, I’m sure they’re going to give you enough shit as is for being late.”

“It’s not just the dishes,” he mumbled under his breath, stuffing his feet in his shoes. You weren’t sure if you were meant to hear that.

As he went to grab the door handle, you put a hand on the door to keep him from opening it. “I want you to bring Johnny next time.”

“What?!” He squeaked.

“Bring Johnny when you come on Wednesday. You need to practice using your powers on someone they’ll actually work on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

“I’ll be right here, Mark,” you reminded him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll see if he can come.”

At 5:58 p.m. the following Wednesday, there was a knock at your front door. You opened the door to two figures this time, Mark’s familiar face and another young man behind him, a head taller than him. “Mark! And you must be Johnny.” You beamed at the two of them, beckoning them in and then introducing yourself to the human, “I’m Y/N, please, come in.”

“Thank you for inviting me over.” Johnny nodded politely as he followed Mark in.

You furrowed your brows, looking over at the basilisk suspiciously. “Mark, you did tell him why we invited him over, right?”

“I did, I swear!” He promised.

“I know it might sound kind of weird, for me to be thanking you for inviting me to get petrified and compelled or whatever, but I want to help Mark out however I can. So really, thanks,” the human smiled genuinely.

You relaxed at this, guiding them further into your apartment. “Well in that case, you’re welcome.”

“Y/N, bathroom?” Mark pointed down your hall.

“You know where it is.” You waved him off as you headed towards the kitchen to grab three glasses.

Johnny followed you into the kitchen, careful to lower his voice as he told you, “Besides, none of our friends have even met you, and we’re all kind of curious about Mark’s new older lady friend that he keeps talking about, so I just had to come, petrification be damned.”

“I do hate to burst your bubble, Johnny, but Chenle and Jisung have met me before. They live next door,” you informed him.

“Oh, Mark’s other friends?”

“Yeah, I guess. He hasn’t drawn me a diagram, so I don’t have a perfect idea of who knows who, sorry.”

“Well, of our other friend group, I’ll be the first to have met you, then.”

“And? Am I everything you all had dreamed of? The mysterious sphinx in her lair luring poor little Markie in every week?” You opened your fridge, skimming your eyes over your drink options. “Wine? Beer? Water? Chocolate milk?”

Johnny chuckled, “Is that for ‘Markie?’”

“No,” you snickered. “My nephew was over this past weekend, but I figured I’d offer it to you guys since I had extra.”

“What kind of wine?”

“A very lovely red. The grapes are grown in a vineyard in this fairy kingdom whose vale naturally produces magical dew. It’s hard to describe, but the flavor that gets imparted is… exquisite to say the least.”

“Sold.”

You poured two glasses of the red wine, then filled up the third with chocolate milk. “So, if Mark hasn’t explained how this works, we’ll eat dinner first, then get into the magic stuff. It’s kind of like exercising, it’s pointless to do it on an empty stomach.”

“You’re different than I thought you’d be,” Johnny admitted thoughtfully, swirling the wine in his glass around.

“More human looking?” You guessed, expecting that you were the first sphinx he’d probably ever met. Not only were your kind rare in and of themselves, but Mark had mentioned that Johnny didn’t even meet any magical creatures until coming to college just a few years ago.

“That, and… younger?”

You snorted, Chenle’s previous ‘MILF hunter’ comment echoing in the back of your head. You set your wine down to cross your arms and cock your head as you asked him, “What do you know about sphinx and/or basilisk aging?”

“Literally nothing. Mark molted all over our apartment a couple summers ago and it was so gross but apparently that’s something that’s supposed to happen a year or two after basilisks reach adulthood.”

“So I could be a thousand years old for all you know.”

He blinked. “…Are you?”

“No.” You shook your head. “However, Mark and I will both outlive you and your grandkids, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Woah… congrats.”

“But since you brought it up…” You lifted your glass back to your lips, taking a slow sip. You then leaned in conspiratorially. “Between us, does Mark have a thing for older women?”

Johnny smirked and leaned in as well. “Why? You interested?”

“Just heard a little rumor, that’s all.”

“I don’t know about having a type, per se, but he definitely has a thing for this one older woman he knows.”

Before you could respond, you heard the door to the bathroom open, and straightened back up. Johnny furrowed his brows in confusion, and you nodded towards the entrance of the kitchen, where Mark appeared just a moment later.

“Hey guys—oh, chocolate milk! Sweet!” He happily picked up the untouched third glass. Mark then went to explain to his friend, “Y/N only buys chocolate milk when her nephew MinMin comes over. She’s way too much of a real adult to have it around otherwise.”

“Is this your passive-aggressive way of telling me I should buy chocolate milk just for you to drink when you come over?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“When you start helping foot my grocery bill, you can dictate what goes on my grocery list, how about that?”

Mark’s eyes widened at that, and he didn’t respond, instead taking another big gulp of his chocolate milk. When he brought his cup down from his face, he had a chocolate milk mustache, and offered you a big thumbs up as he grabbed for a napkin. “Thanks, Y/N! This is perfect!”

“Uh-huh,” you rolled your eyes, but were unable to fight the fond smile on your lips as you turned back to your fridge. “Alright, dinner’s pre-made ravioli, the next person who whines doesn’t eat.”

“Yum!” “My favorite!”

Sat at your dining table across from the two roommates, you took a sip of your drink before engaging your new guest in conversation again, “Are you a student as well, Johnny?”

“Yes, I’m a Comms major, focus in advertising,” he answered.

“And what do you want to do? Advertising?”

The human shrugged and smiled. “Don’t know. Something I don’t hate, I guess.”

You laughed. “That’s fair. I was the same way when I graduated undergrad. Didn’t care where I worked as long as it paid well, didn’t have crazy hours, and wasn’t so boring that I wanted to bang my head against a wall while I was there.”

“Exactly.” Johnny gestured at you triumphantly. “Where’d you end up working?”

“Network security company,” you shrugged one shoulder. “Honestly, I’m not even a big tech person. Can’t fix my own wi-fi if it’s out, past turning it off then back on again. I’m a manager.”

“Need an intern?”

“Dude, you have a job,” Mark interjected, elbowing his friend in the arm.

“I’m networking, dude,” Johnny replied pointedly, elbowing him back. “Not all of us can bank on being doctors in eight years, you know.”

You watched their bickering with amusement before answering the human’s question, “I can make an inquiry. The Advertising AD may or may not owe me a favor…”

“Thanks!” He beamed at you. “So, I’m sorry, if this rude or something, but sphinxes do those riddles, right?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Yes… Don’t tell me Mark has two magical adrenaline junkie friends? I’m not giving you a riddle either.”

Mark’s head shot up from where he had been sullenly eating his ravioli, his eyes going wide with mortification. “Renjun asked you for a riddle?!”

“I didn’t give him one,” you snorted. “I’m not going to be responsible for some kid going mad.”

“I’m going to kill him,” the basilisk groaned, covering his own face in embarrassment. “Why is he like this?”

“I’m not asking you for a riddle, don’t worry,” Johnny assured you. “I was just curious… Would that make sphinxes good poets or writers, then?”

“Sphinxes are good wordsmiths, yes,” you answered with a smile. “But we stick more to oral traditions. One of our favorite pastimes is riddle-weaving. Sphinxes will swap riddles back and forth, solving each other’s riddles to see who can come up with the best one. It’s a good way to pass the time on long car rides.”

“Renjun also said there’s a lot of sphinx lawyers?” Mark added.

“If you compare the percentage of the entire population that are sphinxes and the percentage of lawyers that are sphinxes, yes, sphinxes are overrepresented in that field,” you nodded. “Kind of like how there’s a lot of unicorns in healthcare and education.”

“And dryads in ecology,” Johnny followed your train of logic.

“Exactly.”

After dinner, the three of you moved into your living room. The sun was beginning to set outside, so you retrieved the glowing spheres that had been sitting in your lamps and sent them back outside to rejoin the rest of the rays. You preferred to light your apartment with sunlight when possible, as it was both more beautiful to you, and way more cost-effective than using electricity.

As you went to turn the ceiling light on with the lightswitch, you started explaining what you’d just done to your human guest, “That was sol-channeling. You might hear it be called heliokinesis as well. Sphinxes always call it sol-channeling.”

“Can you sol-channel moonlight? Since it’s technically just reflected sunlight?” Johnny questioned curiously.

“Nope. Magically different properties. Just like how werewolves are only affected by the full moon and moonstone, not by any sort of sunlight or sunstone.”

“…Right. Of course.”

“We can only manipulate existing sunlight, but we can’t make it, and we have to send it back before the Sun sets.”

“What happens if you don’t send it back before the Sun sets?”

“We’re only borrowing the sunlight from Sol. It has to be anchored to us while it’s here,” you said, guiding him by the arm to stand in one spot. “If we don’t end that connection ourselves willingly, it’ll still go back… and rip a piece of our soul out with it. The more sunlight that you’ve sol-channeled, and have anchored to you, the more of your soul that’s taken.”

You then positioned Mark across from Johnny, facing his friend from several steps away. The basilisk’s eyes were locked on your face in horror, but you just kept calmly readjusting him.

“Can you… regrow it? If that happens?” Johnny asked quietly.

“You can heal, physically,” you answered levelly, walking behind Mark. “Hurts like a bitch for a while… but healing a soul, that’s something that takes a lot of power. I can really only think of one thing that would do that…”

“What is it?” Mark blurted out.

“The Sun,” you replied bluntly. “Phoenixes, when they reincarnate. Everything is healed, soul included.” They were quiet for a moment, and you clapped your hands together, changing conversation topics, “Alright, time for some compelling! Ready, guys?”

“Totally!” Johnny gave you two thumbs-up.

“Mark?” You prompted the basilisk right in front of you.

“Shouldn’t you be by Johnny? In case you need to nix it?” He pointed to the human, looking down at his feet.

“I can nix from here,” you assured him. Reaching over his shoulder, you secured between two fingers the silver chain that you knew his lion pendant dangled from. You pulled it out from under his shirt, holding it in his eyeline. “Breathe, Mark. Let’s do a round of those grounding breaths, hm?”

You let his anchor go to rest on his chest again, and watched his eyes flutter shut as you started counting him through the breaths. Once he was done, he opened his eyes back up, the slit pupils slowly dragging up from his feet to your face first. You smiled reassuringly at him from your spot just beside him now. You squeezed his arm. “You’ve got this, Mark. Just like we’ve done before. I’ll be right back here, okay?”

As you went to step back, you saw Mark gulp, and his gaze fell down again. He wouldn’t be able to compel Johnny if he didn’t look him in the eye. While you had read through Renjun’s notes pretty thoroughly early in working with Mark, you were using them as a guide of what not to do. You didn’t want him to constantly be in a state of being stressed, tired, and stuck at home in order to be in tune with his powers. But right now, you could tell that you were hitting at least two out of three of those. Dinner had already taken up a considerable portion of your evening, and Mark was still not as relaxed as you needed him to be.

“Hey, Mark, I finally figured out why Yuta’s barely passing all his classes,” Johnny suddenly interjected.

That caught the basilisk’s attention, his voice confused as he went to respond, “I thought he was on the Dean’s List—”

“Because sirens only know what’s under C-level,” the human finished with a wide grin.

“Dude—” Mark was cut off by his own laughs. “That was bad. Like, barely made sense bad.”

“Well, did I tell you about this fairy philosophy major I met the other day?”

“What? Were they cute or something?”

“Yeah, a real Thinker-bell…”

That one even made you snort as Mark devolved into giggles. Johnny caught your eye as he continued, “You know how Taeil and Doyoung are witches that live together?”

“I mean, Jungwoo’s there—”

“And they were broom-mates…”

“Stop, dude,” Mark’s protests were dampened by his non-stop giggles as he clutched his sides. “We’re trying to— We’re trying—”

“What’s a vampire’s favorite fruit?” You cut in, making both of them turn to you. “A neck-tarine…”

Johnny actually burst out laughing at that, probably more than the awful pun warranted, as he quickly doubled over and had to hold himself up with his hands on his knees. Mark stumbled just the slightest towards you as he was still giggling, finally moving from the place that you had set him up in. “Y/N, not you too!” He complained through laughter. “God, you two are awful. Not funny at all.”

“Then why are you laughing so hard, Markie?” You pointed out with a chuckle, letting him lean his weight on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

“Because I can’t believe you would make terrible dad jokes like that.” He took deep breaths, still holding his side. “Looped back around to being funny.”

“Then why’d you laugh at mine?” Johnny was upright again.

“Pity.”

And as you caught Johnny’s twinkling eyes again from across the room, you figured that you were thinking the same thing. Success. One much more relaxed Mark Lee.

Mark found his footing again, and with one more deep breath, looked up at Johnny. You watched him carefully, feeling the exact moment he made contact with his powers, extending them out towards Johnny. They weren’t overwhelming, out-of-control, hasty, or at risk of boiling over. Johnny stood still, pupils dilating as he looked to Mark for his cue.

“Touch your right index finger to your nose gently,” Mark instructed calmly. That was something you had worked on, specificity without complexity.

Johnny lifted his right hand, tapping his nose with his pointer finger.

“Put your right hand down.” After he had done so, Mark then requested, “Lift your left hand above your head, slowly.”

Johnny raised his hand like he was in a classroom, holding it there.

“Put your left hand down please.”

The human lowered his hand again.

“Thanks, Johnny, you’re done,” Mark released him, and you felt the energy draw back into the basilisk as steadily as it had extended out. He let out a breath as Johnny blinked and came back into himself. “You alright, man?”

“Great!” Johnny beamed and gave him a thumbs up. “Thanks for not making me do anything weird.”

“I told you I wouldn’t, man.” The basilisk rolled his eyes.

“Mark!” You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, practically vibrating with excitement. “You did it! On purpose!”

“I’m going to pee, before the petrification,” Johnny whispered loudly, excusing himself down the hall.

“I-I mean, I had a good teacher...” Mark muttered, tentatively hugging you back.

“I won’t argue with you there,” you snickered, squeezing him even tighter. “I’m proud of you, Markie.”

Two days later, and it was Friday night. After a long week of work, you finally could relax, order some food, make yourself a drink, kick your feet up, and just have a nice quiet night to yourself. Well, sort of. You had actually ordered food for two, prepared an extra glass of ice water, and were awaiting a familiar knock on your door before you could kick up your feet and start your show.

Mark knocked at 7:50 p.m., just 10 minutes before the newest episode of Our Love from the Ashes would be premiering, and you ushered him in quickly. Squished into the middle two couch cushions next to each other so you could both have access to your coffee table to eat from, you were pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn’t incredibly tense or actively running away. He was doing exactly what you’d asked him to do—getting invested. Reacting to the episode with you, quiet at the tense parts, laughing at the funny parts, pretty much the perfect drama watching partner. You were done with your food halfway into the episode, and dragged over a blanket to cover your lap now that you weren’t at risk of any spillage. It was large enough to cover both you and Mark, so you put it over his lap too, and that was when he suddenly choked on a noodle.

“You alright?” You snorted, giving him a couple solid smacks on the back. “Food go down the wrong pipe?”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin to catch a dribble of sauce. “Yeah, sorry. Don’t—Don’t mind me.”

Right as you focused back on the show, however, loud shooting and explosion sounds started up from the other side of your living room wall, and you sighed. You reached forward to grab the remote, pausing the show before scooting out from under the blanket and walking over to your shared wall with Chenle and Jisung. Banging your fist against the wall a couple times, you then waited. The video game sounds decreased significantly, then you heard a dampened, “Sorry, Ms. Y/N!” from Chenle this time.

“That’s how loud it is?” Mark asked, now looking incredibly guilty.

“Yep,” you replied, plopping back down on the couch next to him and pulling the blanket over you again. With the show still paused, you looked over at him curiously. “Are you missing a video game night right now?”

“It’s not like everyone or anything,” he shrugged, casting his eyes down to his dish as he pushed food around with his utensil. “I mean, I think it’s just Jaemin, Hyuck, Chenle, and Renjun. Jeno and his girlfriend are celebrating their anniversary, and Jisung’s not even there at the game night in his own apartment because he’s out with his girlfriend. It was going to be a single losers night.”

“So what does it mean that you’re here with me instead then?” You mused humorously, hitting play.

Mark apparently wasn’t hungry anymore, as he set his food down and leaned back against the couch cushions. But he didn’t relax very much. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see one of his legs bouncing up and down. With the warm summer air outside, he had worn a t-shirt with some comic book character on it. As his fingers started messing with the texture of the blanket, your eyes followed the movement, up to his hands, then further up to his forearms, where you could see his muscles twitch and flex in the slightest under his skin. You were suddenly more aware of the lounge clothes you were wearing. They were nothing special, a comfortable t-shirt of your own and pair of shorts, but as you became conscious of exactly how much the shorts had ridden up with the way you were sitting under the blanket, your focus was still locked on Mark’s hands, not the show that you had unwittingly tuned out.

“Sorry,” Mark’s voice was sheepish, and you blinked, looking up from his hands to his face. “Didn’t mean to pull at a thread. I just fidget, you know…”

His fingers had stopped messing with the blanket, and you gave him a half-hearted smile and shake of your head. “It’s fine, Mark. Didn’t mean to stare like that, sorry.”

When you turned back to the screen, you were able to focus on the show for a whole two minutes. And then the main couple’s romantic kiss turned into a prolonged make-out session. Mark’s hands pulled at the thread again. You smacked a hand down over his, harder than you intended to. He jumped under your touch, but stopped his accidental unwinding of your textile. You kept your hand there to prevent him from unraveling the thread again, skin buzzing with a new kind of energy where it touched his. You didn’t look at him. Then the kissing turned into a bit more, with some conveniently placed objects in frame, and a tasteful fade-to-black. Mark shifted a bit higher in his seat. You slowly took your hand back. That wasn’t the end of the episode, as there was a very cute morning-after scene as well, but you could barely celebrate the fact that the characters were back together. Finally looking at the basilisk beside you out of the corner of your eye, he was staring straight ahead at the TV, his leg back to bouncing. He ran a hand through his hair, and you could see his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

As soon as the credits started rolling, Mark was on his feet. “Uhm, thank you for having me.”

“Right… thanks for coming over.” You walked him to the door like usual, which he seemed to be racing you to. Holding your hand on the door handle without actually opening it, you watched him shift uncomfortably in place. “Are you okay, Mark?”

“Hm? Fine, fine!” His voice cracked. “It was a-a good episode.”

“Yeah, they finally got back together and—”

“Sorry, I just remembered I actually have an assignment due at 11:59 tonight,” he blurted out, scratching the back of his neck. You peered over his shoulder at your stove clock visible from your kitchen. 8:58 p.m.

“Oh. Well, I’ll let you go then.” You went to give him a one-armed hug goodbye without a second thought, feeling him stiffen in your loose hold. Stepping back, you opened the door for him. “See you Wednesday, Mark.”

His face was bright red as he stammered out, “See-See you. Goodnight, Y/N.”

His sneakers squeaked as he took off down the hall. You closed the door behind him and looked back into your apartment, which felt oddly empty now.

Pushing open the door to Half Moon Bakery some days later, you were immediately enveloped by the cozy and sweet smells of the various breads, sweets, and pastries inside. Two employees were behind the counter, one attending to the register while the other restocked their shelves with loaves of bread from a tray, his back to you.

“Hi! Welcome to Half Moon! How can I help you?” The friendly-looking worker at the register greeted you brightly. As you got closer, you could very clearly smell that he was a werewolf, musky and warm.

You offered the young man a smile back. “Hi, I’m actually—”

“Y/N?” The other employee, who had also been wearing a backwards baseball cap, turned around then, surprise on his features.

It took you a second to place the face so out-of-context, immediately offering a kind greeting as soon as you recognized him. “Oh, Johnny, hey. It’s good to see you. Almost didn’t recognize you in the apron, sorry.”

The human gestured down to the navy-blue apron he had donned as part of the bakery’s uniform. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The first boy’s eyes widened as he turned to Johnny. “Wait, Y/N, as in…?”

“Yes, Jeno, this is Chenle and Jisung’s neighbor,” Johnny confirmed pointedly through gritted teeth. You knew very well what was also implicitly being confirmed, because if he knew Johnny, knew your name, and knew Chenle and Jisung, then Jeno presumably also knew Mark and your apparent reputation among their friend group.

“I-It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Y/N. Uhm, sorry about all the noise all the time,” Jeno stammered out an apology.

The way he addressed you made you chuckle lightly. There were only two people who called you that, and with whom he would’ve had to be apologizing for noise if he’d been with. “Oh, you must be one of Mark’s other friends that’s always playing video games so loudly in the boys’ apartment next door.”

“R-Right. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m teasing, Jeno,” you reassured the poor boy, who looked like a kicked puppy at this point. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So what can we get you?” Johnny asked, motioning to all of the various baked goods in the shop.

“As delicious as everything looks, I’m actually not here to eat, unfortunately. Another time,” you promised. Refocusing on the real reason you came into the bakery today, you looked around. “Minseok in?”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Minseok’s in the back. I can go grab him for you,” Jeno offered.

“Would you please, Jeno?”

“So, how do you know Minseok?” Johnny asked as you waited, genuine curiosity in his tone.

“Oh, we’ve known each other for years,” you started. “We’re—”

“Y/N, hey!” Minseok calling your name out snapped your attention to your friend making his way out of the back of the bakery.

“Minseok— ah!” You got cut off by a sputtering laugh as he came around the counter to hug you, patting his back in the embrace. When you pulled back, you didn’t let your friend get very far, brushing at a white smudge on his cheek. “You’ve got flour on your face, you know? I swear you’d have lost your canines a decade ago if it weren’t for me, Kim Minseok.”

“I work in a bakery,” he reminded you with a huff, disentangling from you to cross his arms stubbornly. “Call it an occupational hazard. And you’ve got some on you, too.”

“Oh, and whose fault is that?” You scoffed, wiping at your own face where it had brushed against his in the hug.

“Yours. You’ve got to play better defense, Y/N.” He pretended to punch your upper arm a couple times as if in a boxing match.

“Defense against flour-covered hugs? My bad, I’ll train up on that this weekend.”

Your friend dropped his mock boxer’s stance. “Anyway, you ready to go?”

“Yep, I am if you are.”

“Absolutely.” He nodded, then turned to his employees, who suddenly seemed extremely invested in wiping down the countertop by the register. “I’m about to take my lunch. You two need anything from me?”

Johnny shook his head, giving his boss a reassuring grin. “Nope, nope, all good.”

“Jeno, you think she needs anything back there?” Minseok asked the werewolf.

“Nah, you saw her, she’s totally in the zone,” Jeno replied, a soft smile overtaking his features. “We’re actually taking our lunch break soon, too.”

“Cool. Be back in an hour, hour and a half.”

You lifted a hand to give them your own farewell, “It was good seeing you guys, bye!”

“Since when do you know my employees so well?” Minseok squinted at you as the two of you walked down the sidewalks together.

“They’re both Mark’s friends,” you explained.

The sphinx made an extended ‘ohhh’ sound as you rounded the corner to your destination, a quick, casual café. While you didn’t technically have a timed lunch break since you were in a salary position, your schedule was full up with meetings for the afternoon that you couldn’t be late for. Minseok held the door open for you. “So I guess I have you to thank for Johnny no longer missing shifts because he got petrified, then.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to cover your laugh. “I guess so.”

Saturday night found you hosting all your friends at your place—a rare occurrence. It wasn’t that you didn’t like hanging out with all your friends, it was that you four usually went out somewhere, or to someone else’s place. You weren’t a big hostess in general, and typically Jongin or Baekhyun preferred to do the hosting of the four of you, but somehow, this time, everyone ended up at your place for board game night.

“Something you’d like to tell us, Y/N?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows as he dug a forest green garment out from between two of your throw pillows on your couch. He set his wine glass down on the coffee table to spread the hoodie wide, allowing you to see the logo on the front, the name of the college that Mark and your neighbors attended.

“Mark left a hoodie here?” You questioned. “The horror…? It’s a hoodie, not a condom. Calm down, Baek.”

“I just don’t get what you’re waiting for.”

“What are you talking about?” You walked over to take the hoodie from him, folding it up and setting it aside on your dining table so you wouldn’t forget to give it back to Mark on Wednesday.

“You haven’t talked about any other man since you started ‘mentoring’ this kid,” the siren said frankly, putting his hands on his hips. “Every time we see you, it’s ‘Mark did this’ and ‘Mark said that’ and ‘Mark’s doing so good’ and—”

“I don’t sound like that,” you scowled.

“You kind of do,” Minseok agreed, reclined on your couch.

You looked to Jongin, hoping that he’d at least back you up. He shrugged.

“I’m just saying, from what you’ve been saying, he’s been wrapped around your finger since he laid eyes on you,” Baekhyun continued. “So, what are you waiting for? He’s got his powers under control; he’s obsessed with you—have some fun. I think you’ve earned it. Go be the MILF you want to see in the world.”

“You mean the MILF that you want to see in the world. Pass.”

“What? Is he not cute or—”

“I said pass, Baek. Leave it.”

“Does he have a partner or something?”

“No, I don’t think so. Can we just play—”

“What is your—”

“Baekhyun.” Jongin cut him off coolly. “Stop.”

The siren held up his hands. “Fine. Sorry.”

As everyone sat around your coffee table to start setting up the board game, you could feel Minseok’s contemplative gaze on you. “You really like him, don’t you?” The other sphinx asked quietly, into the dead silence. “Your basilisk.”

Never had you ever been more relieved to hear loud, raucous video game explosions from the apartment next door. You scrambled to your feet, happy to be out of that conversation. “Oh, that’s the boys. Sorry, hold on.” You walked over to your shared wall, and banged your fist on it a couple times.

The volume was quickly cranked down, then Jisung called out, “Sorry!”

You turned back to your own friends with a pleased smile. “There we go.”

A moment later, your phone buzzed in your hand.

[markie: sorry, i tried to tell them it wasn’t quiet enough]

[you: that’s alright. thanks, markie]

[you: also, you left a hoodie here. you can grab it wednesday]

When you sat back down to set up the boardgame, your friends apparently decided to leave the topic well enough alone, letting you start reading off the direction with no further poking or prodding.

A few hours later, after the games had been abandoned but before your friends were ready to leave, you were washing up a few glasses at your kitchen sink as the others debated some movie options to round out the night. There was a faint knock on your front door, and you looked at the time on the stove clock curiously.

“Oh, can someone get that?” You called out to the living room, hands still wet, soapy, and holding an equally wet and soapy glass. “I’m expecting a package, needs to be signed for.”

“I’ve got it!” Minseok shouted back, the sound of the front door opening following just a moment later.

“W-What?” A familiar stutter reached your ears, and you grabbed a dish towel to start drying your hands off, listening carefully to make sure you’d heard correctly. There was no reason Mark should be at your door right now.

“Oh, Mark, right? Johnny’s roommate.” Nope, apparently he was, according to Minseok’s memory.

“Mark?” You poked your head out of the kitchen, the rest of your body following when you did in fact see the basilisk at your front door. “What are you doing here?”

“What is he doing here?” Mark pointed at the other sphinx accusatorily.

“So this is Mark?!” Baekhyun had joined you three at the door, delight on his features. “Minseok, don’t be rude, let the boy in.”

“What’s uh, what’s going on?” Jongin called from the living room as he, too, stood up to start walking over to the front door.

You shook your head at your friends, turning to chastise them, “Oh my God, all of you, stop it.” Clearly, the younger basilisk was in some kind of panic, and you had no clue why he was even at your door when as far you knew, he and his friends were playing video games thirty seconds ago.  Putting your focus back on Mark, you softened your tone, “Mark, why are you—”

But the college student turned on his heel and took off down the hallway at a sprint.

“Mark! Hey!” You called after him, stepping out of your doorway, but it was useless, as he was already long gone down the stairwell. With a sigh, you dropped your hands to your sides in defeat and moved back into your apartment. Leaning against the inside of your closed door, you looked around at your friends, at a loss for words.

“Do you think we scared him?” Baekhyun asked, his head tilted.

Jongin’s forked tongue flicked out, his eyebrows shooting up before his features relaxed again. “You think?”

The next Wednesday, as the time neared 6:00 p.m., you paced your living room anxiously, eyes on the microwave clock as you strained your ears to listen to every minute sound in the hallway. Listening for footfalls, or maybe even the door of the stairwell opening if it were quiet enough. 6:00 passed, then 6:01, 6:02, 6:03, 6:04, and at 6:05 you checked your phone for any indication from Mark that he was still planning on coming over, maybe just running late. You hadn’t heard a peep from him since Saturday, which included leaving you on read this afternoon when you asked him if he wanted pizza or dumpling soup for dinner. You made pizza, too distracted to trust yourself to do more cooking than putting a frozen pizza in the oven. 6:08 p.m., and you heard someone walking down the hallway, past the boys’ apartment, and finally stopped on your doormat. They knocked, and you let out a sigh of relief, rushing to answer the door before he could have the opportunity to run away again.

You unlocked your locks in record time, a breathless smile coming to your face at the familiar figure of Mark standing there. His hands were stuffed into his hoodie pocket as the side of his mouth pulled up into a sheepish half-smile. “Hey, Y/N. Sorry I’m late.”

“Mark,” you breathed out his name in relief. “Just get in here, would you?”

“I’m really sorry about Saturday,” he apologized immediately as soon as you had locked up, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, what even was that?” You asked, a concerned frown on your face as you stepped closer to him. “I mean, why did you come over? And then why did you run away as soon you showed up?”

“It’s… not a good reason. And again, I’m so sorry.” He ran two hands through his hair this time, thoroughly mussing it up.

“Uh, do you want to sit down, Mark?” You offered your couch up.

“Sure, sure, yeah.” He obliged, but was on the edge of his seat, leaning his weight forward on his arms and bouncing a knee. You were getting more nervous just looking at him. “Uhm, so, Jeno had told me about when you came into the café last week, when you got lunch with his boss. And I sort of got freaked. And then I came over here and he was here, I got even more freaked. And then all those other guys were here and I got super freaked and bolted. Like I said, I’m really sorry.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple times as you tried to figure out what you wanted to address first. Finally, you landed on: “Jeno told you? Not Johnny?”

“Johnny helped me get un-freaked enough to come over tonight.”

“Well, big thanks to Johnny, then. Though I will admit that I’m not sure what to do with the fact that me having friends freaked you out so bad in the first place.”

“I-I know, it was really immature of me, I just…” He sighed, wringing his hands together.

You felt bad, he was clearly at a loss for what to do next. He knew he’d messed up and how, and had apologized multiple times. You figured he’d only gotten so “freaked” because he’d known so little about the situation, so you decided that offering some more information would help put him at ease.

“Baekhyun, Minseok, and Jongin. Those are their names,” you said. “They’re my closest friends. Baekhyun’s a siren, Minseok’s a sphinx like me, and Jongin’s a basilisk like you. You can ask me questions about them, if you want.”

“How did you guys meet?”

“We were all in the same class together in primary school.”

“Oh that’s cool!” He replied brightly.

“What?” You blinked at him, caught off-guard. That usually wasn’t the reaction that piece of information garnered from other magical creatures that were from here.

“That you guys went to school together and you’re all still friends. I don’t know how many people I went to primary school with that I could even still name off the top of my head. Did you guys have like a Cool Magic Kids Only Club type thing or something?”

You looked down at your lap. “Not exactly…”

Mark had picked up on the unease in your tone, all perk falling from his features. “What? Is something wrong, Y/N?”

It took you a moment to figure out how to phrase this for him, pressing your lips together in a line as you thought. When you settled on the words, you told him gently, “We were all in the same class because we were the only kids in our class. It was for magical creatures only.”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, not just the four of us, there were ten students total. But, yeah, we were kept separate from the human kids in school. For their safety.”

“I’ve heard about that kind of stuff, like, when integration was first happening, but you’re not that much older than me!” He pointed out, his jaw dropped in disbelief.

You decided to do a little test. “Mark, did you go to speech therapy? When you were in school?”

“What? No.”

“Jongin, the basilisk, he used to get pulled from class three times a week to go to speech therapy to ‘fix’ how he spoke.” You made sure to throw sarcastic air quotes around the word fix.

“What the fuck?”

“I mean, I didn’t have any powers, so I just had to keep my first set of teeth in check, you know. But they didn’t believe me when I told them I couldn’t possibly be a danger yet because sphinxes didn’t get their powers until they were adults. After all, sphinxes were riddle-makers, tricksy, and couldn’t be trusted.”

“Oh, oh my god, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

“So, anyway, that’s how we all know each other. Thirteen years of educational trauma does a lot to make some pretty unbreakable bonds.”

“Y/N… I’m so sorry, I was a dick.”

“Thanks, Mark. But to be fair, you don’t know any of my friends, do you?”

“I’ve met Minseok before.” He tried to reassure you. “And Jongdae!”

“You mean you’ve said hi to Jongdae once, and met Minseok as Johnny and Jeno’s boss.” You shook your head with a small smile. “But I mean, I’ve met a bunch of your friends. Chenle and Jisung, obviously, and I’ve met Renjun, Johnny, and now Jeno. You talk about all of them all the time. It’s not entirely unreasonable that you could’ve… jumped to conclusions.”

“But it wasn’t fair of me to do that.”

“Well, can’t argue with you there.” You agreed. After a pause of the two of you just sort of looking at each other, you offered, “Do you want to hear more about them?”

“You don’t have to… tell me anything you don’t want to, Y/N.”

“Minseok and I weren’t always the closest on the surface, you know. Baekhyun and I liked more of the same stuff, Jongin didn’t really to talk to anybody except me for our first few years of primary school, and Baekhyun and Minseok would team up to pick on me sometimes, but there was always an unspoken bond between us, since we were both sphinxes.” You decided to start with Minseok, since that’s who started this whole freak-out in the first place. “You know, we’re so rare, it was comforting to have another one of us around during all of this. We weren’t allowed to riddle-weave at school, obviously, but whenever we could find the rare opportunity at our magic-only recess, or in a corner of the library, or walking home from school when we were a little older, we’d swap riddles back and forth with each other. One of us would give a riddle, the other would solve it, then give a riddle back. And don’t get me wrong, our whole class was really close. There were only ten of us, and we had pretty much no contact with the rest of the students at our school until high school. But the four of us, Minseok, Baekhyun, Jongin, and I, were truly the best of friends. Still are.”

“What about the rest of you? The other kids from your class?” He asked.

“We keep in touch with all of them. Sort of parted ways in college and as we got older, you know. I actually work with one of them. Remember that phone call I got from my employee, Sehun?”

“Kind of?”

“He’s one of my former classmates, a witch.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him walk in on his first day. Let me think… Jongdae, witch, he’s the only one of us to have a kid so far, MinMin; Chanyeol, werewolf, just got a promotion… then of course Minseok owns the bakery, Baekhyun has his boba shop, Jongin has a whole designer brand... Yeah, we’re all doing just… great. Really makes my heart happy.”

“Ah, Y/N…” Mark got to his feet, throwing his hands down by his sides in fists as he paced.

“Woah, Markie, are you okay?”

“No, just— Doesn’t it make you mad? That they did this to you guys?”

“It used to, yeah, absolutely. We used to be the angriest, angstiest, most vitriolic people you could ever meet. We hated that school, and society, and the world for letting them treat us like that. Hell, Jongin still hates his speech therapist, and I’ll let him die with that grudge.” You shook your head, the momentary bitterness dissolving from your tongue and a melancholy replacing it instead. “But it ate at us. And not only that, but society kept changing. And we were all stuck in that time, in those memories, stuck with that anger. It was killing us from the inside. I am so glad you didn’t meet me in college, Mark, because it was not pretty. The number of nights that none of us can remember—and not for any fun reason—is far too many.”

He still didn’t seem convinced, but had stopped his angry pacing, standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I mean, just look at you. You went through the same schools that I did practically right after us and had a completely different experience. A better one. And that makes me so relieved.” You beamed up at him, and saw a mixture of guilt and bashfulness flicker across his face. “It doesn’t take away what happened to me at all. But anger with no direction is useless. It all really hit us when Jongin, Minseok, and I all developed our powers the same semester of undergrad. And we were all messes. We couldn’t get them under control because we were just so angry. We felt like we were being forgotten, that our suffering was being forgotten. Everybody else was moving on and pretending like it never happened. When I uh, mostly unintentionally melted a portion of a professor’s car, my grandmother pulled me away for spring break—absolutely ruined my plans—and made me spend the entire week learning to control it all.”

“You melted—”

“Thankfully, Dr. Kwon was very understanding, and I wasn’t kicked out or anything.”

“How did Minseok and Jongin…?”

“Those aren’t really my stories to tell. But ultimately, we couldn’t hold onto that anger anymore. So instead, I try to focus on all the good that we have in our lives, and all the things we’ve been able to accomplish despite what was done to us.” You then gestured to him, “And I look at the magical creatures who came after us, how much better things were for them, and are continuing to get, and all I can feel is happiness now.”

Mark sighed and sat down on the cushion next to yours, and you found yourself relieved to see the anger drain from his face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s not my… thing to get angry over.”

“No, Mark, it’s okay.” You reached out to grab his hand, pulling both of them over to rest in your lap. Your other hand was up by your mouth, where you were chewing on a nail in between your thoughts— an anxious habit your grandmother thought she had broken you of in high school. “It tells me you care, and it means a lot, that you do. Makes it still feel real. And it is your thing to get mad about, as far as I’m concerned. What happened to us—and to Jongin—could’ve easily been you and your friends too. I’m just really glad it wasn’t.”

The basilisk squeezed your hand, then scooted closer until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee. But it wasn’t electricity that jumped between you two this time, or strange butterflies in your stomach. It was an unspoken, understanding kindness that connected you and Mark, and a quiet sense of security that had settled deep in your chest. You shifted to rest your head on his shoulder, letting go of his hand only to wind your arm under his and lace your fingers together.

“Mark?” You said quietly, gaze locked on your intertwined fingers.

“Yeah?” He murmured, and you could feel him turn his head to look down at you.

“When you asked me if you’re my friend… one of the first times you were over. You remember that?”

“Ah, god, Y/N.” He shook his head, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m sorry about that, I shouldn’t have asked you. I was insecure and fishing for—”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t answer you honestly,” you insisted. You held Mark’s hand even tighter. “You’re not my friend, and… I don’t know when it happened. Honestly, I don’t think you ever were.”

He was quiet for a moment, letting your confession settle over the two of you like a blanket. But you didn’t feel suffocated by it, or scared. It sort of felt like something that was always in the room with you and Mark, but now you two were just finally talking about it. And after Mark’s history of impulsive decisions, and talking without thinking, and getting freaked, you were more than happy to give him whatever time he needed to get his thoughts together before responding to you.

“Can I ask you for that secret now?” He asked into the empty air of your living room, his voice wavering.

“Of course. Anything.”

“How... Can you tell me a secret you have about me? About how you feel about me?”

You lifted your head off his shoulder to turn in your seat and face him. His big, brown eyes were looking at you like you were everything, and you just took a second to admire him as you pulled together your own thoughts. Here everyone was worried (to varying degrees of seriousness) that you were luring poor, innocent little Markie into your lair every week and corrupting him. But really, you’d been unknowingly leaving the doors to your heart wide open for this little basilisk to slither right in and make himself at home. And now that he was here, you had no intention of ever asking him to leave.

“I like you, Mark. Something other than friendship. Romantically,” you clarified. “I have feelings for you.”

His grip tightened on your hand as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Mark? You okay?” You asked softly.

“Great, yep, awesome,” he promised. “Just uh, just losing my mind a little.”

You laughed, stroking your thumb over his comfortingly. “Take all the time you need. Don’t want any more freakouts if we can avoid them.”

“Y/N?” He looked up at you again.

“Yeah, Mark?”

His eyes flicked between yours and your mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You agreed enthusiastically, but didn’t make another move for fear of scaring off the skittery basilisk.

He still hesitated, though. “D-Do you want me to?”

So polite. It was taking everything in you not to pounce on him.

“Yes.” You said again, a bit firmer. For encouragement, you took his hand that you were holding and moved it up to your face.

Mark took the cue and gently cupped your cheek, leaning in towards you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let him guide your mouths together. The first touch of his lips to yours was feather-light, barely there.

“I…” He drew back, dropping his hand to hold yours again. “Like… You want to date me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed with another light chuckle.

“You’re laughing at me again.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You tried to compose yourself, but you knew that you still had the same smitten smile on your face. “You’re just… too cute.”

“Do you remember when I came here to ask you for help with my powers in the first place?” Mark asked, poking a couch cushion. “What you said about your couch?”

“My couch…?” You echoed, trying to think that far back. It felt like a lifetime ago at this point that you had first welcomed the incredibly timid basilisk into your home. Then it hit you. “I said neither my couch nor I would eat you whole.”

“Unless I asked nicely,” he added, swallowing thickly. “I’m-I’m asking nicely now, Y/N. Please, if you want—”

“Oh, Markie,” you sighed, standing up and pulling him up with you. You grabbed his jaw between two fingers, looking into his slit pupils as you pulled him closer. “You’re so adorable.”

Before he could say anything else, you crashed your mouths together. His hands immediately flew to your hips to ground himself, as you kept one hand on his jaw and the other rested on his shoulder. You had a reason for standing up, however, beginning to push him back in the direction of your bedroom.

He asked to be eaten whole, after all.

When your work alarm came the next morning, you snoozed it and buried your face back into your pillow. There was a groan from beside you, and you could hear Mark shifting as well.

“Don’t tell me that’s actually how early you get up for work?” He asked incredulously.

“I have to shower, and make breakfast, and brush my teeth, and get dressed in clean clothes, and commute,” you mused. “Can’t just roll out of bed five minutes before I need to leave and show up in the same pajamas I slept in anymore.”

“Ugh.”

You chuckled, rolling over to snuggle up to his side, throwing an arm over his waist. “Do you have class today?”

“Summer break.” His arms hesitantly wrapped around you.

“Right, right. Well, I guess you can snooze until I’ve got breakfast ready, then.”

“Mm, pretty sure I heard something about a shower?”

“You might have,” you replied coyly. “Why?”

“You know, Renjun was telling me about how climate change is shrinking the natural habitats of glacial sirens at the poles, and—”

Your laughter cut him off, and he started giggling at himself as well. When you’d finally caught your breath, you said, “I’ve heard the ‘saving water’ line before, never heard it taken to that extreme. Come on, if we waste any more time, we’ll be having untoasted bread for breakfast.”

“Ooh, my favorite,” Mark grinned, following after you.

⤷ anthology masterlist | blog masterlist

[starlightkun]

⇢ word count: 14.4k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that, multiple needle/injection mentions, main characters are morally gray, and oh yeah cursing ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ author's note: ohhhhh my god y’all, THIS PART!!! parts 3 & 4 have the scenes that made me want to write this fic in the first place, i’m so excited!!! ideally, parts 3 & 4 would have been one part, but due to tumblr's 1000-block limit, i had to split it up ⇢ series masterlist | prev. | next

“No, no, no!” You whined, clutching at your head as you shook it furiously. “It hurts! Feels like my head is exploding!”

“What’s happening?”

“I think her head is exploding,” Yangyang said frankly.

It was quick work to pack up camp after breakfast the next morning, and then you were all gathered together at the door to the ag bubble to leave. The crew members were back in their armor, and you had an oxygen mask on, which reminded you of a more structured version of the rebreathers that you’d used before. Everyone was carrying several packs of supplies, and on Kun’s nod, the door was opened, and Kunhang exited rifle-first.

You took one final glance over your shoulder at the bright blue synthetic sky of the ag bubble, the rolling rainbow hills of orchards and crop fields, cut through by the gleaming river, then followed Yangyang out. The sight in the hallway hadn’t gotten any better. The time that had passed only worked to degrade the bodies further, and you were very thankful that your mask was hooked up to its own oxygen supply instead of filtering the air around you. The Skipper bodies were decomposing faster than the human ones, their already minimal tissue beginning to liquefy and slough off their thin, wiry, birdlike skeletons. While you wished you could just look up at the ceiling the whole way out, you had to keep your eyes on the floor to avoid stepping in the new, unknown substances in your path.

The crew had put you back in the center of them as you walked through the halls, Kunhang and Yangyang at the front, Ten and Dejun at the back, and Kun and the Professor on either side of you. As you turned down one hallway, your eyes unwittingly landed on a human corpse, and after a half-beat, you recognized it as the same woman you saw when you left the storm shelter, but only by her dandelion yellow blouse. Her face was rendered unrecognizable by bloating and discoloration, and even her shirt was marred by stains, no longer a bright yellow.

You gasped and stumbled, your eyes locked on hers, open and glassed over, no longer holding whatever color they used to—brown, blue, green, hazel. A hand immediately shot out to catch your arm and keep you upright.

“Y/N, come on,” Kun’s voice was firm as he pulled you forward, and you let him usher you on.

Once you were past that sector, he shifted you behind him and grabbed your right hand to put it on his upper right arm. “Here, just watch my back and your feet. Don’t look anywhere else until we’re out. Okay?”

You couldn’t reply audibly with the oxygen mask on, so you just squeezed his arm once, and he moved onward again. You kept your eyes trained on a spot in his middle back, between his shoulder blades, occasionally looking down to make sure you wouldn’t step on his heels as you went. But otherwise, you didn’t look over his shoulder up ahead, or at the carnage on either side of you. You tried to forget the woman in the dandelion yellow blouse.

In your time with the crew of the Vision, you hadn’t been to the side of the facility where the exit door was. When you were searching for the proof of concept, your team was in a different area. So as you walked, and walked, and walked, you realized that your hiding place must have been equidistant from the ag bubble to the exit door.

You recognized the sign above the door, with a singular large, bright red Outspacer glyph for ‘EXIT’ and the doorway itself painted the same bright red as the sign. Hard to miss. Kunhang readied his rifle as Yangyang quickly opened the door for him, and he quickly looked around first before lowering it. Everyone else followed.

As soon as you stepped onto the surface of Aegeum, goosebumps flared along your skin, and you shivered. The surface was barren, gray rock, covered in a thin layer of dirt the same gray color as the rocks, eroded from the wind and occasional surface weather. Despite it being morning in the ag bubble that you had just left, it looked like nighttime on the surface of the artificial planet, pitch black outside. It was only illuminated by light from the stars in the sky. You didn’t know off the top of your head how close Aegeum was to the star at the center of its solar system, nor if it had a moon, as you couldn’t spot one above you.

There were three ships on the surface. You could identify the two Fishead pods that the Skippers had come in, which had most definitely seen better days, with significant scuffs and dents along their bulbous surfaces. One looked like some kind of energy cannon had even landed a hit in the hull—it wouldn’t have made it very far after that. The third ship was definitely the dropship for the crew of the Vision: A shiny, sleek new vessel with the UHN logo on the side, which everyone was headed towards. Judging by the size of the cockpit area visible from the outside, it looked like it only had room for one pilot, and the rest of you would need to go into the passenger and/or cargo areas.

“Zennie? You mind?” Kunhang addressed the AI as your group approached the side of the ship.

You didn’t hear ZEN’s response this time, but a door on the ship opened, and a ramp extended to the ground. Ten got on first, heading for the cockpit, and the rest of you followed, the ramp and door closing up after you. As Ten fired up the dropship, the rest of the crew secured the cargo. The couple packs that you had been carrying were taken from your hands and put somewhere, and you were ushered into a seat against the wall as a couple pairs of hands simultaneously buckled you in and tightened the harness strapped around your shoulders and waist.

The Professor suddenly turned to you, on your left. “Do you get carsick?”

“Do you honestly think she remembers ever being in a car?” Dejun scoffed from across the small passenger space from you.

“Right.”

“Hopefully not!” Yangyang said cheerfully from next to Dejun.

“Passengers, this is your captain speaking,” Ten’s voice suddenly came through the ship.

“I’m pretty sure that’s insubordination, Ten,” Kunhang joked.

“Please follow all directions of the flight attendants and keep your seatbelts fastened at all times. We expect this to be a very short flight. My co-pilot today is ZEN, again, this was your captain, Ten Lee, thank you for flying Ten Airlines.”

That earned a laugh from the Professor, while the others had varying levels of exasperation. Some merely sighed, others rolled their eyes, and still others outwardly groaned and complained.

“Can we just take off already?” Dejun grumbled.

“Ten!” Kun barked from your right side. “Wrap it up!”

“Sir, yes sir!” Ten’s zealous salute was barely visible from behind his seat in the cockpit.

And just a few moments later, the ship hummed to life around you, rumbled, and you felt the pit of your stomach drop out for a brief moment as it thrust upwards from the surface, then all your senses snapped back together. You could still feel that you were rocketing quickly up through atmosphere, that you were moving, but then the ship began decelerating, slowing down, and then the rumbling stopped altogether. There were a few clicks, the occasional bursting again of the rumbles, then one last definitive latching together of something on the outside of the dropship, and no more movement, no more rumbles, and no more humming.

“Attention passengers, we’ve landed right on schedule,” Ten announced, and everyone’s immediate relieved noises nearly downed out the rest of his words, “I thank you again for choosing Ten Airlines.”

Seatbelts were unbuckled, and materials were quickly unloaded from the dropship onto the Vision. Crew members took their own personal effects back to their rooms, and if they were in charge of particular materials, they took those back to their respective areas—Dejun took his medical packs back to the infirmary, Kunhang and Ten took the rations and cooking supplies back to the kitchen.

“Here, we’ll get you your basics and then I’ll show you where the room is,” Kun motioned you further into the ship. You’d been hovering at the entry bay, not wanting to get in anybody’s way as they went about their individual tasks. They hadn’t been lying when they said the Vision could get cramped. It was obviously larger than their dropship, but not built for a crew much bigger than the one they had now.

The walls, floors, and ceilings, of the Vision were all a flat, medium gray metal, and every few steps there would be a bulkhead above you with a letter and number, presumably to keep track of where you were in the ship.

You followed Kun down the hall, where he pointed out things to you as you passed them—infirmary, kitchen, laundry, armory—before stopping in front of a door in the hall. He pressed on a recessed button, and it slid open to reveal a rather large closet of sorts. There were a lot of simple clothes in there like you’d seen the crew members wear when they weren’t in their armor, as well as basic hygiene products.

After grabbing what you needed, you followed Kun into the area of the ship with the crew quarters. He pointed out each cabin to you—Dejun and Yangyang’s, Ten and Kunhang’s, the Professor’s, and then his. And yours. Kun’s and yours.

The room had three beds total, a top and bottom bunk on one wall, opposite a wall with only one bed. The far wall had a small surface protruding out of it to function as a desk, a chair, a dresser, and a door handle that you were fairly certain opened into a closet. The single bed, though immaculately made, did look as though somebody used it, as it was the only one that had sheets, the other two only had mattresses.

“Settle in, I’ll get you sheets,” Kun gestured to the two open beds and rest of the room, then disappeared through the open door.

As you approached the dresser, intent on finding out if there would be any luck in you being able to keep your clothes separate in there, you heard footsteps coming down the hall, and figured it probably wasn’t Kun returning already.

“Knew it,” Ten’s voice was victorious, and when you turned around, you spotted him leaning in the doorway, a wide grin on his face.

“Knew what?” You questioned.

“I knew that the captain was going to be getting a roomie.”

You looked at him blankly. “And…?”

“And nothing. Welcome aboard, Y/N.” He sent you a wink before turning on his heel and taking off somewhere.

Kun had just returned and starting putting the sheets on your bed (at his insistence) when you got another visitor. Dejun popped his head in, taking a brief survey of the room, then asked, “Hey, how are you settling in?”

“Oh, fine,” you flashed him a smile and offered a thumbs-up. “Got clothes, toothbrush, sheets, all that stuff.”

“Good. Make sure you swing by the infirmary before we leave for Earth, alright? The scanner I’ve got here is more comprehensive than the field scanner.”

“Will do. Thanks, Dejun.”

And he was gone too.

Kunhang and the Professor walked by as Kun was putting the pillowcase on.

“What do you need sheets for?” Kunhang snorted, biting into a granola bar or some other small snack that you couldn’t distinguish from his place in the hallway.

“For her to sleep on?” Kun retorted.

“But—” The Professor stopped as Kun dropped the pillow back onto the bed with force then pivoted to look at him incredulously. The civvie and Kunhang exchanged a look before wordlessly walking away.

Kun turned back to you, letting out a deep breath. “This is going to be a long trip back to Earth.”

“How long will it take?” You asked curiously.

“Good news, we have the latest slipdrive technology that’s been upgraded with some newly discovered Outspacer tech. Bad news, Aegeum is still very, very, very far from Earth. So, a month,” he informed you. “With the old slipdrive tech, it would’ve been six months, and with no slipdrive, ten years.”

“So it could’ve been much worse.”

“Yeah. But I have a feeling they’re all going to make it feel like ten years.”

“Maybe five,” you snickered. “Thanks for putting the sheets on, Kun.”

“Of course.”

“Do you have to go give Admiral Lee your update?”

“Yes, but after, I’ll show you around properly,” he promised.

“That’s fine, Dejun wanted me in the infirmary. I think I can find it, we passed it on our way here.”

He touched your forearm briefly. “I’ll see you in a bit. Good luck.”

“You too.”

The two of you stepped out of your cabin, Kun turning left down the hall and you right towards your separate destinations. You were easily able to locate the infirmary again, a few doors down and around the corner from the crew cabins. When you arrived, however, you found it empty.

Before you could debate about going to find Dejun yourself or not, a green box popped up in the air front of you, presumably projected from a computer terminal somewhere in the room.

“Hello again, Y/N,” ZEN’s voice was the same as it had been down on Aegeum, and you found yourself smiling at the cube’s blank faces.

“Hi, ZEN,” you greeted him brightly. “Good to see you again.”

“I would have done reintroductions earlier, but I thought it best to let you get settled in first.”

“And I’m sure you needed to reintegrate your fragments, too.”

“Yes, that too.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you at full capacity.” You looked around the vacant infirmary. “I’m looking for Dejun. Can you help me with that?”

“Lieutenant Xiao is in the kitchen. I’ve already paged him for you.”

“Thanks.” You strolled around the open room, but made sure to keep your hands to yourself. “Are you happy to be stratified data again, ZEN? No more viscera?”

As you looked back at the hovering green cube, you saw a ripple of light go through the pixels, which you figured was meant to emulate a chuckle of sorts.

“While I can conceptualize human emotions like happiness, I can’t say that I feel any particular way. I will tell you that there has been a significant decrease in the processing load put on my system since being removed from the crew’s neural ports, however.”

“I imagine that you might be able to conceptualize that as… relief, then?”

The cube bobbed up and down. “Yes, I would agree with that sentiment.”

“Good to see that you two are getting reacquainted,” Dejun’s voice carried in as he stepped into the infirmary.

“Hi, Dejun. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Nah, Wong was trying to fix the coffee machine,” he waved off your concern, taking a seat behind a computer monitor. “Wasn’t going so well.”

“Does he not have the manual?”

“He does,” ZEN informed you.

Dejun continued as he clicked a few things and typed on his keyboard, “He likes to feel handy, he’s just not very good at actually being handy. The captain will let him keep at it until everyone needs coffee in the morning. Then Ten will step in.”

“Ten is handy?” You asked.

“He has to be able to fix up his ships,” the medic nodded. “No mechanics on abandoned planets, just AIs without hands.”

“Staff Sergeant Lee also worked part-time at a mechanic’s shop prior to enlisting,” ZEN helpfully supplemented.

“Do you frequently read off factoids from our personnel files to each other behind our backs, ZEN?” Dejun cocked an eyebrow at the hovering cube.

“While that is information that I could access, Staff Sergeant Lee mentioned it in conversation to Corporal Wong, Professor Dong, and myself some time ago. I didn’t see an issue with repeating it now.”

“Good to know.” Dejun must have been done with whatever he was doing at the computer, as he stood up from the seat and walked over to a clear booth that took up one corner of the infirmary. He opened the door and gestured you in. “This is the scanner. Literally the only thing you have to do is stand in here, it’ll take just a minute.”

You obliged, stepping into the compartment, and he quietly closed the door after you. You watched through the clear material as he walked back over to the computer and sat down. Looking up above you, you saw a square panel that appeared as though it had several different prismatic, multi-colored components layered on top of each other, the size of the whole booth, but you couldn’t tell anything else about the material or their construction.

“Okay, two things you need to do in here,” Dejun’s voice came through a speaker in the booth. You looked out to see him pressing a button on his desk. “Don’t look up while this thing is running. You won’t go blind, but it won’t feel great if you’re staring directly at it, alright?”

“Sorry,” you replied, staring straight ahead. “How does this work?”

“ZEN can send some materials to your cabin for you to read later.”

“You can’t explain it to me?”

“I mean, I can tell you how it works like how I can tell you how a stethoscope works. I put this end in my ears, I put this end over your heart, your heart beats, and the stethoscope is constructed in a way that magnifies the sound of your heartbeat so I can hear it more clearly. I can’t tell you how soundwaves work, or the exact properties of the stethoscope materials that make it work like that or anything. Same thing with the scanner. I feel like you’d want something more in-depth like that, right?”

“You’re right. Thanks, Dejun. You too, ZEN.”

“And you’re done,” he declared. “You can step out.”

You looked around in confusion. “When did it turn on?”

“When you stopped looking up.”

You pushed the door open and exited, crossing over to where Dejun was still at his station. He looked at his computer screen with a furrowed brow, tapping his fingers on his desk. ZEN had moved his avatar to a projector on the edge of the desk.

“Everything okay?” You asked nervously.

“Yeah… everything is just fine,” he sighed. “Not that I wanted there to be something bad. It’s just that the scanner would tell me if you had any injuries, or disease, anything wrong with you at all. There’s nothing, which means I really have no clue what’s caused your amnesia. Sorry, Y/N.”

“That’s alright,” you reassured him. “Good to know there’s nothing wrong, right?”

“You’re right.”

“Captain’s on his way in,” ZEN announced, then blipped out of sight.

Kun poked his head into the infirmary just a moment later, his body following when his eyes landed on you. “Hey, how’s it going in here?”

“According to the scanner, I’m all clear. Right, Dejun?” You prompted the doctor.

Dejun nodded passively, eyes still on his screen. “Yep. Nothing wrong at all…”

“So we don’t know what caused her amnesia, then?” Kun immediately caught on, a pensive frown on his face.

“Nope.”

“What are you looking at?” You asked. “The scan?”

“Scanner results. All clear…” He then shook his head as if to clear it, then offered you a smile. “It’s good news, Y/N, that there’s nothing wrong. It was probably an injury that caused your amnesia, and the injury itself has healed, which is why the scanner didn’t pick anything up. Whether your memories come back or not will just be a waiting game at this point.”

“Thank you, Dejun.”

“Do you need her for anything else?” Kun asked the doctor.

“Nah, she’s all yours, Captain.” Your friend said knowingly, making a shooing motion with one hand at the two of you.

“Thanks, Xiao,” he said dryly, then turned to you and nodded towards the door. “Here, Y/N, I still need to show you around properly.”

“See you at mess, Dejun.” You waved goodbye to him over your shoulder before you and Kun left.

Despite the Vision seeming cramped, the crew disappeared effortlessly into all the corridors, rooms, and chambers. You didn’t see another member other than Kun throughout the entire tour, even ZEN making himself scarce, despite the fact that you were aware of his omnipresence.

“And this is the observation deck,” Kun had guided you into a small room at the far side of one end of the Vision. One of the walls had been outfitted with a rudimentary bench, and as you stepped into the center of the room, Kun stayed back to press a panel next to the door.

Darkness dematerialized from one wall panel opposite the bench, and from underneath your feet, leaving you standing on something sturdy but utterly transparent, the gray surface of Aegeum far below you.

“I wanted to show you this before we departed,” Kun explained, walking over to join you. “Once we’re in slipspace, there’s not much to observe.”

You looked out the newly revealed window, seeing nothing but stars in front of you, pulsing and blinking back at you.

“This is great, Kun, thank you,” you breathed out, turning your gaze back down at the planet. “Is the UHN going to come back to Aegeum?”

“There will be a more in-depth investigation than what we’ve done, I’m sure.”

“I mean… Will somebody come get their bodies? All the humans? Or at least notify their families? We were able to identify them.”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “This project was kept secret even from the head of Intelligence. Their families might have already mourned them.”

You moved away from the floor panel and over to the wall, letting your eyes drink in the darkness interspersed with a seemingly endless number of pinpoints of light. Kun stood beside you, quiet, but you could feel that it was a heavy, contemplative silence.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, able to picture the furrow in his brow despite the glass that you were looking through having no reflections on it.

“Your memories… I know the all-clear from Xiao is a good thing, but how are you doing?”

“Nothing’s really changed. Even if he’d been able to tell that I had some kind of brain damage or whatever, he wouldn’t be able to go in and press a button to undo my amnesia just because he knew that,” you replied with a shrug. “I was never holding out hope for that to be some magical solution to all my problems.”

“That’s wise.”

“They’ll either come back or they won’t. Either way, I’ll keep going. I’m not going to sit and stare at a wall for forever.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, loosely looping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Good. I think you’d get awfully bored staring at a wall forever.”

“How’d your report with the Admiral go?” You asked.

“Fine. Short and sweet. He’s aware that I’ll have more when we arrive on Earth.”

“And when do we leave?”

“Soon. Ten and ZEN are completing their final systems check then we finish our tour at the bridge for departure.”

“Tour’s not over yet?”

“Not quite.” He had a hint of playfulness in his tone.

You finally looked from the stars over to the man with you, seeing a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You felt that you had one of your own fondly across your own lips as well. “Kun?”

“Hm?” He met your eyes.

“I’m… happy,” you admitted almost sheepishly. “Is that weird? I’m happy to be away from that place, to be with you—and the whole crew, that you’re going to be getting your adjustments, that we’re all okay.”

“No, of course that’s not weird,” he shook his head, moving his hand to rub your back. “Honestly, I’ve been used to things just being shit or less shit, it’s weird for me too. But yeah, I think we can be happy.”

You started leaning in towards Kun, stopping short in case he had second thoughts about showing so much affection in a public place on the ship. But he just met you right where you were waiting, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that, despite the lack of strawberries, was sweet nevertheless. You lifted a hand up to gently caress his cheek, and as his smile grew wider into the kiss, you could feel one of his dimples appear under your thumb.

“We’re ready when you are, Captain!” Kunhang’s cheery voice abruptly rang through the observatory deck.

Kun whirled around to face the entrance, where the corporal was leaning against the doorway with a broad grin on his face. Your heartrate, meanwhile, was through the roof as you looked between Kunhang and Kun, opting to let the captain take the lead on this one.

“And you couldn’t have paged me to let me know that?” Kun replied through gritted teeth, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I advised that he do so, Captain,” ZEN’s voice came from the panel by the door. “However, Corporal Wong insisted on coming to get you himself.”

“And you didn’t think to give us a head-ups that he was coming?” Kun rounded on the AI, who was noticeably not projecting an avatar this time. “You’re aware that you’re complicit as well, right, ZEN?”

“I’ll go to my nexus and think about what I’ve done,” ZEN replied somberly.

Kunhang, meanwhile, was laughing behind his hand. “Don’t blame Zennie, I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.”

“Is the crew actually ready to depart, Wong?” Kun stared him down.

“Yep!”

“Then go back to the bridge. We’ll be there soon.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Despite his salute, Kunhang was still wearing the same smirk on his face as he left.

Kun pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. “They don’t respect me enough, is that it?”

You laughed, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Of course they respect you—”

“Even the AI was pulling my leg.”

“Your crew has a strong sense of camaraderie, and they include you in that,” you reassured him. “That’s a good thing. I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m sorry he did that,” he said quietly. “Are you—”

“Kun, I’m fine, other than being a bit startled,” you chuckled. “We weren’t exactly being inconspicuous. This is a common area on the ship.”

“Well, do you still want to go to the bridge with me? I’m sure the whole crew already knows…”

“You did say there’d be no keeping this from the others,” you pointed out.

“I did.”

You nudged him towards the door. “Come on, might as well get it over with.”

“Good point.” And with that, he started from the room, closing the solar shields over the observatory windows on the way out.

The chattering from the other crew members on the bridge that you could hear from down the hall ceased as soon as you two entered. Kun looked over at you, clearly already annoyed.

“So this is the bridge,” he explained to you in the dead silence, gesturing to the area. At the front were two panels that you could see out of, while along the walls were various buttons, knobs, levers, and gears, a total of five chairs set up at various intervals designating stations. The crew didn’t sit in any of those chairs, but at an oblong table in the middle, with seven chairs.

Kun continued showing you around slowly as he explained, “ZEN manages all of the controls, but there’s of course analog controls in case we need to fly it ourselves.”

The two of you had finally ended up at the table in the center. “Here’s where the human crew will usually be if we’re on the bridge. We have any sort of crew meeting here, and we always gather for take-off, even with ZEN at the helm. Just in case.”

“Hi, guys,” you greeted everyone brightly. There were two chairs left open at the table, and you presumed that the one at the end was the captain’s, so you gestured to the one next to it, which also happened to be next to Yangyang. “Mind if I sit here, Yangyang?”

“Saved it just for you, Y/N.” He beamed.

“How considerate, Liu…” Kun commented dryly as he took the only open seat left.

“Ready for departure, Captain,” ZEN announced, his cube suddenly appearing around shoulder-level above the center of the table. “On your word.”

“Ready for departure,” Kun confirmed with a nod. “Destination: UHN Main Headquarters, Earth. Activate slipdrive.”

“Hold onto your buttholes,” Yangyang muttered under his breath, and you saw both his hands gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles.

There were no seatbelts or harnesses like on the dropship, but you suddenly understood why Yangyang was white-knuckling the furniture like his life depended on it. It felt like all of your internal organs were being pulled through the eye of a needle the size of an electron. Then, before you could breathe, it was gone. You blinked, trying to reorient yourself. Outside the windows there were no longer pinpricks of stars, but utter darkness so deep your eyes almost couldn’t comprehend it.

“Ugh, that doesn’t get any less unpleasant,” Yangyang groaned, shaking his head. “The Outspacers seriously hadn’t figured out how to make it not feel like that?”

“Crystallized ginger?” The Professor offered you a piece from across from you, and you saw a small bag on the table in front of him. “I get carsick… and spaceshipsick, it turns out.”

You accepted the candy as a nice gesture, despite not feeling very queasy. “Thanks, Professor.”

“Alright, quick debrief,” Kun addressed everyone. “We’re headed to UHN Main. Thanks to the new slipdrive, we’ll arrive in about a month. Once we’re there, you’ll all have at least three days of shore leave. I’ll be giving my full report to Admiral Lee, which may or may not alter where we go next.”

When it seemed nobody else had anything to add, he continued, “Xiao, have you started analyzing the sample you got from that lab?”

The doctor nodded. “Yeah, should have the full results in the morning.”

“Okay. We didn’t find the proof of concept, Dr. Yoon is unaccounted for, we do not know why the Skippers were there nor how they found out about the facility, and Y/N will be aboard for the foreseeable future. Anything I’m missing?”

A throat was suspiciously cleared, but you couldn’t quite tell where it had come from, as the others all had varying degrees of guilt on their features. Even ZEN seemed to be pointing his lightest plane away from you.

Kun rolled his eyes and sat up straighter in his chair as he addressed them all sternly, “I’m sure Corporal Wong has already imparted his newfound knowledge to you all, so I see so need to ruminate on it. If there’s nothing further, you’re all dismissed.”

A discordant chorus of incredulous voices immediately erupted around the table, and you simply popped your ginger candy into your mouth as Kun dropped his head into his hands with a groan. It sounded like a few bets had been wagered for various things—laundry tasks, drinks to be bought once they arrived on shore leave, second portions of dessert at mess, anything but money—and the winners were now victoriously recounting their forthcoming prizes.

“If there’s nothing further,” Kun repeated loudly over the rabble, standing from his seat. “I have reports from Admiral Lee to go review.”

He lingered for just a moment with his gaze on you, as if to see if you’d ask to come with. But you shook your head minutely, staying put in your seat. The captain gave a final stony look to the rest of the crew, “I’ll be in my office.”

And he left.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Ten cleared his throat, the sound awfully familiar. “How long have you and the captain…?”

“Only since last night, promise,” you answered.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Kunhang coughed.

“And exactly how long were you standing there watching us, Kunhang?” You cocked your head curiously, then aimed your question at the AI. “How long was he standing there, ZEN?”

“Don’t answer that, Zennie,” Kunhang rushed to swat at the hologram cube.

The others snickered and made various comments about him being a voyeur.

“My turn,” Yangyang cleared his throat with a grin. “How did he do it?”

“Do what?” You asked.

“You know, ask you out, or whatever. Make a move,” he clarified with a teasing lilt to his words. “I’m just having trouble imagining the captain flirting. Or doing anything other than lecturing me for two hours straight.”

“That’s because you keep doing and/or saying stupid shit that requires two-hour lectures,” Dejun retorted.

“Why are you assuming Captain Qian made a move? Could’ve been Y/N,” the Professor pointed out.

Yangyang held his hands up. “True, my apologies.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “I don’t know about making moves… We were just talking.”

“And what? Came to a business agreement to enter into a romantic relationship?” Ten snorted.

“No,” you rolled your eyes. “Look, it’s not my fault that you guys can’t imagine your captain as a human being.”

“I, for one, am happy for you two,” the Professor said.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Hey, we never said we weren’t happy for them,” Kunhang said defensively.

“You’re just being nosy little shits,” Dejun finally spoke up. “Leave her be.”

The others grumbled, but acquiesced, slowly dispersing from the bridge as well.

“ZEN’s loaded up those articles for you, Y/N. I’ll walk you back to your room,” Dejun offered. “I know it’s a bit of a maze in here, it can take some getting used to.”

“I think I’ve got it—”

“I’m headed that way anyway.”

“Right, thanks, Dejun.”

As you and Dejun walked down the ship’s narrow halls, you found that the mental map you had was correct, as he took all the turns that you anticipated. As you stopped in front of your room, you expected him to leave you there, but he stepped into the cabin with you.

“ZEN can get the reader on the desk set up for you,” he gestured at the furniture. “But I just wanted to check in with you.”

“Oh, I feel fine,” you assured him. “Still got the amnesia but… otherwise all good.”

“And you’re okay? Like, you’ve had a lot happen.”

“Yeah, Dejun. It’s been a lot but also… I’m happy, strange as that may be. With all of you, with Kun.”

The doctor nodded. “Alright. That’s all I needed.”

“Thank you for checking on me.”

“Anytime.” He offered you a smile before ducking out of your room.

Kun found you sometime later sat at the desk, reading through the materials about the infirmary scanner that ZEN had gathered for you.

“Hi,” you said over your shoulder as he walked in, your eyes still on the diagram on the screen in front of you.

“Hi,” his voice got closer as he walked over to you. “What is that?”

“A schematic of the full-body scanner in the infirmary,” you replied, then touched the screen to select one of the pieces, pulling up a diagram of the different layers of materials that were suspended above you when you stepped into it. Another tap brought up an up-close image of the crystalline structure of one of the layers. “So that’s what that looks like.”

“Wow. It’s… kind of pretty,” Kun remarked. “Any particular reason you’re studying the infirmary scanner?”

“I was curious. Dejun offered to have ZEN give me some reading materials.”

“Maybe you can read the coffee machine manual next and give Wong a hand in the morning.”

“He hasn’t fixed it yet?”

“He never does.”

“I’m almost done with this article, I can take a look at it next,” you replied, tapping back out of the images and diagrams to get back to the main text. “Maybe fifteen more minutes?”

“Well, do you think you have time to eat first?”

“Oh, is it time for mess?” You finally looked up from the screen, craning your neck up and bending back just slightly to see where Kun was standing directly behind your chair. You were aware of how much time had passed while you’d been sitting there, but you didn’t know what time they ate mess on the ship.

Kun smiled fondly down at you, patting your shoulders. “Yes, if you can spare the time from your studies.”

“Of course.” You digitally marked your place in the article before pushing the button for the reading screen to recede back into the wall. “It was just some reading, really. I don’t know if I’d call it studying.”

“I don’t think I’d call schematics of complex diagnostic scanners and accompanying scientific articles detailing how they work, ‘some reading.’”

“I was curious about how it worked. It’s not like I’m going to build one,” you replied, letting him lead the way out of the cabin.

“I hardly think we have the parts for one, except in the one we already have.”

“Well, they use some similar materials that are used in robot construction, actually,” you told him. “According to the articles I was reading. I don’t know a lot about robots, other than the gist, you know? Positronic brain, metal body, that stuff. But the articles said that a lot of the basic materials that are used in the scanners are also used in robotics.”

“Maybe you and Yangyang can make one then.”

“I just said I don’t want to build one,” you replied with a sigh, despite knowing that he was teasing you. “But I do think it’s interesting that a lot of these materials were scarce on Earth—they’re literally called rare Earth metals—but then once humans started building robots, and got into space, they found places in space where the materials were abundant, and started mining them, and could build more robots to mine even more, and make even more robots. And now there’s so much of them that they started trying to find even more applications outside of robotics, like the medical field.”

The two of you had reached the kitchen, where a couple crew members were sat around the small table in there, and a couple more were up by the counters. Dejun was at the table already, playing some card game with Yangyang.

“So you like the articles so far, Y/N?” The doctor asked you humorously, setting down a card.

“I’m not quite done, but yeah!” You nodded enthusiastically.

“She’s going to read the coffee machine manual next, try to help Wong out,” Kun said, nodding towards where the Corporal was still tinkering with a partially taken apart contraption in the corner. “You said what, fifteen more minutes, Y/N?”

“I’ve got it!” Kunhang cried out.

Dejun looked at you curiously. “Wait, you’re almost done? Already? I thought ZEN would’ve given you more.”

“ZEN, how much reading did you give Y/N?” Yangyang asked aloud to the room.

The AI’s avatar popped up into the middle of the table. “Y/N received the manufacturer’s manual for the infirmary scanner model on the Vision, as well as fifteen articles from various scientific publications detailing the past five years of research into the scientific principles behind the technology for review. I can confirm that she’s completed nearly all the materials except for one article.”

The crew all turned to look at you in disbelief, including both Kunhang and Ten—who had previously been tending to the food. You suddenly got the feeling that that was not normal, the same pit in your stomach that you felt when Kun had unwrapped your hand to reveal your perfectly healed palm, which was still bandaged up now.

“Uh… fast reader?” You supplied hesitantly. “I-I don’t know…”

“What’s the word, Xiao?” Ten pointed at the doctor and snapped his fingers.

“I’m not a mind reader, Ten, you need to give me more context,” Dejun snorted.

“Damn, it’s on the tip of my tongue. You know, when someone’s like, really not smart, but can play the piano really well? Or is a genius at math but can barely read?”

“Savant syndrome?”

“That’s it! Idiot savant.”

“That’s really not the term we use anymore, dude.” Dejun looked very perturbed. “And honestly, it’s not a diagnosis that’s even handed out because—”

Ten completely ignored him, focusing on you. “Maybe you’re a savant. Amnesiac who can read super fast.”

“Or she’s a very smart, but normal, person who got hit on the head very bad and has had her brain scrambled,” Dejun rolled his eyes. “And you should stop calling her an idiot.”

“I’m with Xiao on this one,” Kun interrupted sternly. “Ten, stop calling her an idiot.”

“I’m calling her a savant, but fine.” The Marine shook his head. “Anyway, soup’s on, where’s the Professor?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” The Professor came running in then, out of breath. “Sorry, I was deep in some research. Y/N! You need to read some of my notes.”

“You have more Outspacer notes?” You asked, a little in disbelief.

“Not quite, it’s Ourogish, but I figured you can try your hand at it, right?”

“I mean, I don’t know how helpful I’ll be, but sure?” You replied doubtfully. You’d never seen Ourogish written down, nor learned to speak, read, or write it.

“You see, when we were on Ourogos, I got to see some ruins, and there were these carvings there. Ancient Ourogish. Even the Ourogi who live there now can’t translate it, it’s too distant from the writing system they use now, and they’ve been at war for so long that they’ve lost their entire caste of scholars. But, when you were going through my Outspacer notes on Aegeum and explaining some of the language features, they felt very familiar to me, and I want you to take a look at the Ancient Ourogish.”

“Uh-oh,” Ten sighed knowingly, setting a dish down in front of the Professor. “He’s got an itch.”

“He’s not going to sleep tonight,” Yangyang declared, accepting his plate from Kunhang.

“Sure, Professor, it sounds fun,” you grinned, taking the food that had been passed down to you.

Towards the end of the meal, as everyone was mostly done with their food, but weren’t quite ready to retire to their cabins for the night, Dejun cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention.

“Now that everyone’s eaten…” He prefaced his words cautiously.

“I don’t want to know what could follow that,” Ten groaned.

“Some of the results on the organic sample have come back,” Dejun continued. “The rest of the tests are going to take until morning, but…”

“Get on with it, Xiao,” Kun prompted him.

“It’s definitely human tissue.”

Everyone was quiet as they looked at each other. Nobody looked surprised, maybe queasy, disgusted, remorseful, or resigned, as if this was exactly what they were expecting but they didn’t want to be right.

“Everything else will have to wait until morning…” Dejun finished quietly.

“Right, thank you, Lieutenant.”

That night, as Kun continued reading the novel he’d picked up on Aegeum, you finished up the last part of the article, then skimmed through the coffee maker manual. When you were done, you shut off the reader then stood up from the desk.

“I’m going to get your med-pods from the infirmary,” you announced, heading towards the door.

“No need,” Kun replied casually, shutting his book.

“Kun—”

“Because I already got them,” he continued, opening a drawer under his bed. There was a small assortment of med-pods and disinfectant wipes, neatly organized in a small container.

“Oh,” you stopped in your tracks. “Good.”

Kun set the book aside and turned over onto his front, resting his arms and head on a pillow as you got out the two med-pods and wipe. As you pulled the hem of his shirt up, you couldn’t help but think back to mess again.

“Do you think it’s all related?” You ripped open the disinfectant wipe. “My hand healing fast, and me reading fast, and the amnesia and… where I was?”

Kun was quiet for a moment as you disinfected the area, then lined up the first med-pod. “I’m not thinking anything about it right now, Y/N.”

Click.

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t know… anything. And what we do know… if we assume that it’s all connected, that would be a big fucking assumption that I’m not comfortable with making. So I’m not going to. These are all extremely disparate pieces of you, and assuming they’re all connected is a huge leap. It would be like walking into a grocery store and seeing a box of pasta, an orange, and a can opener and deciding that because they’re all together in one place, they must have all been made there at the exact same time.”

You pursed your lips, then nodded. “You’re right.”

“The others didn’t bother you too much today, did they?” He changed the subject. “About… you and me?”

“No, not really,” you chuckled. “They’re just having a hard time coming to grips with the idea that you might, you know, be a human being with feelings.”

“Oh, the horror…”

As you watched the med-pod drain, the thoughts of his skeletal enhancements, and the crew’s (albeit, mostly joking) comments about him not being human, and Kun’s own statements to you about feeling like something other, all swirled together in your mind. “Kun… what you were saying, about not being able to remember what you felt like, before you went through the program…”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“You’ve told me so much about living on Dura-Jil,” you said. “You can’t remember, even a little, about what it felt like being a kid and stealing a Dumbo dropship with your friends? Or learning to drive a Gecko?”

“I mean, I can remember those things happening, but it’s been so long…” he mused. “I can’t recall what breathing with those lungs felt like, or what adrenaline rushing through that body felt like, or how it felt to move those muscles, to learn things with those hands. I know it’s different now, better, faster, stronger, whatever. But I can’t… describe it. Can’t remember why it’s different.”

You scooted further up the bed to rest your hand on his shoulder. What he was describing felt almost painfully familiar to you. A different kind of forgetting, an amnesia of the body instead of the mind. He shifted to rest his cheek against your hand, and you saw his eyes close for just a moment.

When the med-pod clicked again, signaling it was empty, you regretfully had to reach back to swap it out for the second one.

“Strawberries taste different,” Kun finally said, when you’d taken the empty, second med-pod off his back and disposed of the trash. “I remember… the ones I ate on Dura-Jil were always sweeter. I don’t know if it’s just because of where they’re grown, or if my tastebuds have changed, but I remember that. The ones from my mother’s greenhouse were always sweeter than any I’ve had since.”

You sat back down next to him, wanting to make sure he didn’t get up and strain his enhancements too soon. There was a solemn twinge in your chest, a longing for something you had never experienced yourself.

“Y/N…” He rolled onto his back with a soft grunt, but thankfully made no further moves to get up. “Will you… Can I hold you? For a little bit?”

You smiled softly, pulling the covers out from under him. “Of course, Kun, as long as you want.”

Laying down beside him, you brought the sheets and blanket up over the two of you, then curled into his side, resting your head on his chest as he encircled his arms around you.

“Thank you,” he murmured, already sounding very close to sleep.

You closed your eyes, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear, and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. And you thought to yourself that if your days ended like this, you didn’t really care what else they were filled with before.

Two (relatively) peaceful weeks passed on the Vision, and you were definitely counting down the days, mentally celebrating that you were halfway there to Kun being in far less pain.

On this particular day, you were reading again. There wasn’t much else for you to do, really. This time, you’d taken the spare tablet you’d been given into the observatory deck for a change of pace from reading in your cabin, though.

“Now what are you reading? Quantum physics?” Yangyang had appeared in the doorway, playful smirk on his lips.

“No, info on the second gen slipdrive model,” you said, eyes still hungrily drinking in the diagram of how all the pieces fit together. “ZEN apparently can’t declassify the stuff for the newest model that’s in the Vision right now without a direct order from either Admiral Lee or Kun, and Kun’s busy.”

“ZEN, come on,” the roboticist snorted. “She’s literally the captain’s… okay, I don’t know what label they’ve got but dude, I think that’s enough of a security clearance.”

ZEN’s avatar popped in for a split-second to defend himself. “I understand the social dynamics quite well, thank you, Lieutenant. However, it’s not my decision, it’s programmed into me. I cannot declassify that information without a direct order from either Admiral Lee or Captain Qian.”

“And what is our esteemed captain doing right now anyway that he can’t be interrupted?”

“He’s in the gym,” you replied. “I’ll be done with this by the time he’s finished anyway, I can ask him then. I told ZEN not to bother him.”

“It would take him all of two seconds,” Yangyang pointed out.

“It’s fine, really. I’ve got some guesses as to how they improved this slipdrive with Outspacer technology, I want to make sure I finish this before I read the new stuff and find out if I’m right.”

ZEN’s cube silently blipped back out of sight.

“You are like an information sponge.”

“I mean, I don’t have a whole lot else up here.” You tapped your forehead. “No memories. More room for information, right?”

“You read any stuff on robotics?”

“No,” you shrugged. “I mean, the stuff about the infirmary scanner mentioned it briefly, but it wasn’t about robotics, you know?”

“Why not?”

You looked up at him finally, chuckling as you said, “I mean, I also haven’t picked up a medical textbook, either. I hope I’m not offending Dejun.”

“I’m not offended,” Yangyang assured you. “Just asking. We found you somewhere with a robotics lab and a synthbio lab. Thought you might have gotten curious.”

“Oh, I mean, I guess not. Maybe one day.”

“With the rate that you consume knowledge? Probably.”

There was a certain glint in Yangyang’s eye in that moment, one that felt eerily familiar to how he was looking at you on the first day on Aegeum.

“Were you looking for me, Yangyang? Or were you going to use the observatory?” You questioned.

“Guilty. I was looking for you.” He was still smiling at you. “Do you mind if I run some diagnostics?”

“On… me?” You tilted your head, chalking his strange phrasing up to being a roboticist rather than a doctor. You laughed airily. “I appreciate the concern, but I was already checked out in the infirmary my first day on the Vision. Other than the amnesia, I’m fine.”

“In the full-body scanner?”

“Yeah, so everything’s just fine. Promise.”

“I just want to take a quick x-ray, really.”

His insistence put you off a bit, but you really saw no good reason to say no. After all, it would just tell you the same thing the infirmary scanner told you, that you were fine. So you bookmarked your place in the article, then clicked your tablet off. “Uhm… sure.”

You’d only been to Yangyang’s robotics lab twice in your whole two weeks on the Vision. Once, on the tour that Kun had given you on your first day, and the second time a few days later when you offered to bring him a cup of coffee from the newly refurbished coffee maker after mess.

The lab was probably one of the larger areas on the ship, about as big as the infirmary, but felt infinitely more cramped by all the stuff that Yangyang had fit into it. There were only a few areas to walk around in between tables and workstations and various contraptions that you didn’t touch for fear of jostling something in the exact wrong way. Unlike the lab on Aegeum, he didn’t have any partially-built robots here. In fact, there weren’t any robots on the Vision at all. It sounded like a miserable existence for a roboticist, but Yangyang made no complaints, and certainly seemed to find something to do to fill all his days on the ship. There was definitely stuff everywhere that looked like the beginnings or middles or pieces of projects, but how functional they were, you couldn’t tell. They certainly didn’t look like robots, nor could you spot a positronic brain anywhere, the thing that would make it a true robot, and not just an automated machine.

Yangyang brought you over to one of the machines, which was a large disc that you stepped under with two panels hanging down from it that went on either side of your head. He guided you to put your chin on a rest, adjusting it to fit your height comfortably.

He went to sit back at a nearby desk, typing a few commands into the computer that was there. “Alright, hold still.”

As the panels slowly rotated, you heard an occasional heavy thud at random intervals, almost like the sound of a camera shutter, but much deeper. At the same time that Yangyang announced that you were done, Kun stormed in, still wiping sweat off his face with a towel as he glared at his crewmate.

“What the hell are you doing, Lieutenant?” He demanded. “ZEN tells me Y/N’s busy getting an x-ray not in the infirmary, but in your lab? You bump your head and forget who you are too? You’re not the fucking doctor.”

“Right, yes, very true.” Yangyang held his hands up defensively. “But also… you should both take a look at this.”

You and Kun looked at each other, before hesitantly walking over to look at the screen.

That… didn’t seem quite right.

“Your machine’s broken, Liu,” Kun said.

“No, I calibrated it right before this.”

You peered closer at the image of your head on the monitor, at all the… glowing pieces. “It’s…”

“A positronic brain,” Yangyang confirmed. “That’s what an x-ray of a positronic brain looks like, outside of a metal head. And inside a human skull, presumably. Humanoid.”

It felt like someone had turned the slipdrive on again but magnified exponentially. All the air left your lungs—did you even need air?, you swore your heart stopped—was it even beating in the first place?, your stomach twisted in on itself—did you have one of those?, and your skin prickled in a scalding, white-hot discomfort, an all-consuming knowing that nothing would ever be the same again that hit you like a meteor. And you were frozen in the moment of impact, stretching out that crushing sensation for eternity.

You didn’t even want to look at Kun, didn’t want to know what sort of horror he felt at this realization. Didn’t want to see the look of abject disgust, betrayal, distress that must be there.

Yangyang finally spoke again, “I’m s—”

“Destroy the film.” Kun cut him off harshly. “ZEN! Erase your recordings. Delete everything.”

You and Yangyang had similar looks of wide-eyed bewilderment as you looked at Kun. The captain clenched his jaw as he stared down the roboticist. “Now, Liu!”

“Captain—”

“We can’t tell anybody. They’ll register her. She’ll be property,” he spat out, crossing his arms.

“You can register her under your name—”

“No. I won’t do that. She won’t be registered.”

“Cap—”

“Our story stays the same. We found a human on Aegeum with amnesia. Do you understand, Leiutenant?” Kun’s voice was strenuously calm, a sharp edge to it.

Yangyang gulped and nodded. “Sir, yes sir.”

“Destroy everything. Now. While I watch,” he demanded.

“Christ, you don’t trust me?”

“I do. I just need to be sure. I need to see it with my own two eyes.”

Yangyang did as he asked, in a strained, suffocating silence. You also watched as he made a few clicks, then confirmed the permanent deletion of the x-rays he’d just taken.

“ZEN!” Kun barked for the AI again. “Suspend the slipdrive.”

Yangyang blinked at him. “You’re suspending us in slipspace?”

“And you—”

“Are not going to say a fucking word to anybody. Sir, yes sir.”

Kun seemed at least somewhat satisfied with that. “Come on, Y/N.”

You hurried down the halls after him, barely trusting yourself to even breathe, much less say a word, before you were behind the closed door of your cabin.

“ZEN, blackout!” Kun ordered, already pacing. There was no response from the AI, confirmation that he had blacked out the incoming feed from your room. Kun ran a hand through his hair, then took a deep breath. “I suspended the slipdrive to buy us time and… there’s no way anybody can find you in here. Safest place in the Universe, outside of linear time.”

His gaze settled on you, intense, unwavering, so determined despite how little he knew.

“When he suggested… registering me. Under your name. That would be less risk, wouldn’t it? Than trying to hide what I am?” You said hesitantly.

“You’re not my property.” He shot back immediately.

“You don’t treat me like I am. I don’t believe that you would just because I’m registered as such. But what would happen to you if they found out you had an unregistered robot with you?”

It was the first time anybody—Yangyang, Kun, or you—had called you a robot, and you could tell that Kun had noticed, as his jaw tightened. But it was law that every robot had to be registered, whether to an individual or a governmental agency. There could be no ‘free’ robots, and having one in your possession was considered to be possessing contraband, which carried severe consequences.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Kun—”

“Because once you’re registered, that’s it. Even if to me, you’re not property, what happens when I die?” He thumped himself on the chest. “You’re not magically freed, Y/N. You just become someone else’s property.”

You sat down on the bed across from the one that you’d been sharing with Kun, that had remained empty these entire two weeks, a hollowness in your chest. “Oh. Right. You will die. And I...”

“God, Y/N…” Kun sighed, looking up to the ceiling ruefully. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Maybe Yangyang can help, with the amnesia,” you suggested. “Dejun’s been looking for a… natural reason for it. Maybe it’s not.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay, yeah.”

Back in Yangyang’s lab, you sat down nervously in the chair he had motioned you towards as Kun watched from a spot by the closed door. The roboticist picked up a small, flat disc from his counter, which looked almost like a silver coin, save for the soft red light that emanated from a triangle at the center. As he went to hold it up to your forehead, Kun started forward.

“What are you doing?” His words halted the other man’s motions, the disc hovering in front of your eyes.

“I need to run diagnostics on her. However, she doesn’t exactly have any buttons, or switches, or ports for me to use for access to her internal systems,” Yangyang replied bluntly. “Whenever a robot is built without external access to those sorts of things, they have to have a receiver to put them into stasis for work to be done. This should activate it, if she’s got one and I can find it. If she doesn’t have a receiver, it won’t hurt her, robot or human.”

“And you think the receiver would be in my head?” You questioned.

“Common practice is to put it at the front of the head or the back, if the robot has one. Need access to the brain.”

“Like where a neural port would go.”

Yangyang tilted his head curiously, but still made no further moves. He looked at Kun over his shoulder. “Can I proceed, Captain?”

He eyed the coin with distrust, but agreed anyway. “Yeah, fine.”

“If this works, Y/N, you won’t be able to move. You’ll be frozen in whatever position you’re in. You probably also won’t realize what’s happening until it’s over.”

“She’ll black out?”

“Not quite. She’ll be awake, but since I’ll be looking at her memory systems, she won’t retain anything. She’ll be unresponsive, and I imagine may only blink at consistent intervals so her eyes don’t dry out.”

You met Yangyang’s gaze. “Go ahead, Yangyang.”

The coin was placed against the center of your forehead first, cool against your skin, and Yangyang slowly slid it over your temple, then behind your ear and around to the base of your skull.

“Well, it’s nothing mechanical, it’s nothing with the alignment of her positronic brain,” Yangyang declared, suddenly across the desk from you, sat at his computer.

You blinked rapidly and sat up straighter, flexing your fingers and shifting your legs.

“Then what? She’s not lying.” Kun was next to you, and you looked between him and where he had just been over by the door. You didn’t remember him moving.

“Hey, Y/N, welcome back,” Yangyang smiled at you, drawing Kun’s attention back down to you as well.

“Are you okay?” Kun touched your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassured him, patting his hand. “So, you ran the diagnostic tests, then?”

The roboticist gave you a thumbs-up. “Good news, the alignment of your brain is just fine.”

“She’s not lying,” Kun reiterated.

“I didn’t say she was.” Yangyang held his hands up defensively. “You’re familiar with the Three Laws of Robotics, Captain?”

“Of course. We had to be trained on how to interact with the robots and AI we would be deployed with.”

He then turned to you, “Y/N, do you know the Three Laws?”

You scrunched your nose as you tried to think, but just came up empty. “…No.”

“What?!” Kun blurted out.

“I think you do,” Yangyang replied knowingly.

You looked between them, panicked, “I’m—I’m not lying. I swear. I don’t know—”

“I know. I don’t think you’re lying. I think that if asked to list the Three Laws, as I just did, you would be unable to. Genuinely.”

“How would a robot even be built without the Three Laws?” Kun demanded. “That’s—That’s illegal. Impossible, the regulations—”

“You’re correct. It would be impossible. I’ll tell you the Three Laws, Y/N, working backwards. The Third is self-preservation. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second laws. The Second is obedience. A robot must obey orders given to it by a human, unless those orders conflict with the First law. The First is human safety. A robot may not, through action or inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. They’re all programmed into each and every robot’s positronic brains no matter their purpose or design.”

You nodded slowly. “So you’re saying that even though I didn’t know the three laws and couldn’t articulate them, I still have them programmed into me, and would have been following them anyway.”

“Correct.”

Kun paced a few steps away, rubbing his forehead. “I’m going to have a stroke.”

“I’m no robopsychologist, but I believe it’s the Second Law that we have to blame for your apparent amnesia,” Yangyang continued, ignoring the captain’s comment.

“Someone ordered her to forget she was a robot?”

“Yes, as well as everything else about her, for lack of a better word, life.”

“Why would somebody do that?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t think of a single good reason,” Kun muttered.

You glanced between them hopefully. “Can one of you just order me to remember, then?”

“Y/N, I ran diagnostics on your data bank,” Yangyang began gently, leaning forward in his seat. “The amount of information in there… it’s consistent with when your memory starts.”

“Oh… I see.”

“So…?” Kun prompted him.

“When whoever it was ordered her to forget, it wasn’t just to make the data temporarily inaccessible. It’s not there at all,” Yangyang clarified.

“They had her destroy it?”

“Or they moved it to an external storage device. Either way… it’s gone.”

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” Kun’s voice was soft and pained as he walked back over to you.

“Even if it wasn’t, whoever gave her the order, at the time the order was given, would have been of a higher importance to her than either of us. She’d prioritize that order over any we gave now that would try to override it.”

“And it doesn’t matter at all what she wants?”

“The data isn’t there for her to attempt to retrieve, Captain,” Yangyang reiterated. “Positronic brains are incredible feats, and are in many ways, superior to ours. But unlike you and I, who have neuroplasticity, and no matter the extent of the damage, could have some nonzero chance of spontaneously recovering those memories… if her data wasn’t backed up externally, I’m afraid it’s unrecoverable.”

A pain like you’d never experienced suddenly erupted in your head, your hands flew up to grip at your temples, pushing them together as if your head itself was about to burst apart. You involuntarily let out a scream, squeezing your eyes shut as you cried out, “Oh my god, my head!”

“Y/N!” Kun’s hands on your arms kept from entirely collapsing out of the chair and onto the ground.

“It… It hurts! Make it stop!” You yelled desperately, barely feeling the hot streams of tears as they poured down your cheeks.

“This happened on Aegeum, when we first found her. Whenever she’d try to remember stuff, she’d get headaches, but never like this,” Kun rushed to explain to Yangyang.

“You said it hurts?” Yangyang asked you.

“Didn’t you hear her? Fucking do something!”

“I am, I’m running diagnostics. Y/N, please. It hurts? Not that it’s overheating, or is misaligned, or is returning errors?”

“No, no, no!” You whined, clutching at your head as you shook it furiously. “It hurts! Feels like my head is exploding!”

“Oh. Come over here.” You were guided to somewhere else in the shop, then pushed into another seat, presumably. “Sit down.”

“What’s happening?” Kun asked.

“I think her head is exploding,” Yangyang said frankly.

“What?!”

“Y/N, stop trying to remember. Stop thinking about your past before you met Captain Qian. That’s an order.” Yangyang’s voice was firm, authoritative, cutting past all the white noise threatening to fragment your mind.

“What the hell, Liu?” Kun snapped.

Your hands fell from your head to your lap as the pain drifted away to nothing more than a memory, and you sat up, looking straight ahead. “Okay…”

In front of you, Kun grabbed Yangyang by the collar and jerked him away from you. “What the fuck was—”

“I’m going to choose my words very carefully to hopefully keep that from happening again.” Yangyang pointed to you. “Understand?”

“Fine.” Kun huffed, letting him go.

“I’ll need to run some more diagnostics; however, my theory is that her headaches are some kind of failsafe to prevent… investigating.”

“Well you can run your fucking diagnostics later, she’s going to rest.”

“Of course. My apologies, Y/N. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t think it necessary,” Yangyang offered you an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay, Yangyang. Thanks for helping with… whatever that was.” You hesitantly mirrored his smile, unable to remember what was even happening to you before Kun grabbed Yangyang.

Kun offered you a hand, his voice soft as he suggested, “Come on, do you want to lay down?”

You put your hand in his, letting him help you to your feet. “I think that’s a good idea, yeah.”

Your limbs still felt heavy and your thoughts sluggish with sleep, but you groaned and rolled over nevertheless, surprised when you didn’t bump into anybody. Pushing yourself up onto an elbow, you opened your eyes, looking around the room for Kun.

He was standing by the dresser, and turned around upon hearing you stir. Kun walked over to sit on the other mattress across from you. “Morning. How’s your head?”

“I slept through mess last night?” You questioned, pulling yourself all the way up to sit against the pillows behind you.

“Yeah. I told the guys you were stuck in one of your articles, brought our dinner back here,” he indicated toward two bowls sitting on the desk, one empty with a spoon sticking out of it, the other covered, the spoon sitting atop the lid. “How’s your head?”

“Oh, fine. Did Dejun give you your injections?”

“I gave them to myself. The angle was a little awkward, but I didn’t want Xiao asking why you couldn’t.”

It was then that you saw the sheets he was sitting on were wrinkled and out of place, the pillow with a noticeable head dent in it, askew from its usual position. “You slept in the other bed.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked like you needed the rest,” he stated, his words kind, but you could see the unfamiliar stiffness in his body.

You sat cross-legged to face him. “You’re debating the ethics of continuing our relationship after witnessing the effect a direct order had on me yesterday.”

“Well…”

“It’s not unreasonable. It also wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to question if a robot can even love.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s understandable, Kun,” you reiterated, sincere.

“Look, I just don’t want you to be doing this because you think saying no would hurt me. You don’t need to worry about inflicting that kind of harm.”

“You think this is all from the First Law?”

“I don’t know, is my point,” he stressed.

“Kunhang flirted with me first, shouldn’t I have ended up with him then, by your logic? According to the First Law? To not hurt him and the clear advances he was making on me?” You didn’t mean for your words to come out as harshly as they did, but you could feel the bitterness on your tongue coating them as they left your lips.

“I don’t know,” Kun repeated.

“I can’t prove to you that what I’m feeling is real. Or that I’m feeling anything at all. I don’t even know what that means. I mean, how do you know that you’re feeling things? That you’re feeling them ‘right?’” You argued.

“I-I just do. Sometimes I feel them in my body, too. My heart starts beating faster, my face gets warm, my fingertips tingle, my stomach feels funny, my chest hurts.”

“That sounds like you should see Dejun.”

“Maybe, it’s chronic at this point. Been happening for a few weeks now.”

You shot to your feet, “Kun! Oh my G—”

“Love. I was describing love,” he finished.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You sat back down, staring at your feet with what you could only describe as righteous anger. Kun said he loved you, and it was marred by this realization, by a debate of if you knew what that meant, if you could even reciprocate, if it was even ethical for him to feel this for you in the first place. Clenching your jaw, you took a deep breath before picking your head back up to look at him, “There is nothing I could do to objectively prove that what I feel for you is love, Kun. There is also no way for me to say that I love you in the same way a human does. I don’t know what that’s like. But the best I have to offer you is that when it comes to you and our relationship, it feels distinctly different than when I was given that order.”

“How did that feel? The order?” Kun asked.

“It overrode everything I was thinking and doing in that moment. I-I mean, I was about to say I’ve never experienced anything like it, but I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry Liu did that, but it was life or death. Your life or death.”

“I trust you guys.”

“I— That’s what I mean.” Kun was suddenly on his feet.

“What?”

“You’re not even a little bit upset? That he did that to you?”

“He saved my life and you’re expecting me to be pissed at him?” You replied incredulously.

“I don’t know, even a little violated? Whether he was justified or not, you don’t feel uncomfortable? That you went through that? And somebody who you thought was your friend knowingly, completely took away your free will?” His voice was gaining volume and fervor as he spoke, and he couldn’t seem to stand still.

“I didn’t say any of that,” you said firmly. “All I said was that I trust you guys. You’re the one assuming I’m being docile and passive.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He crossed his arms, seeming to deflate in front of your very eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He then grabbed something off the desk that you couldn’t see. Walking back over to you, he pressed a small, flat, cool coin of metal into your hand.

“Here,” he murmured.

You looked at the object in your palm, at the soft red glow emanating from the center. “This is the…”

“Positronic Allen key that Liu used to…” He trailed off. “You should be the only one on this ship who knows where that thing is. Not Liu, not me.”

You wrapped your fingers around it. “Thank you, Kun.”

“It’s time for mess,” Kun announced abruptly. “I’ll go get our food.”

“I’m okay, I can go with you,” you said, then paused with realization. “Unless there’s a reason you don’t want me to.”

“You’re not under house arrest or anything, Y/N. I just think it’d be easier—”

“If nobody saw me? What would you say? I’m still reading? I’m sick? Then Dejun would definitely want to come check on me.”

He rubbed his face. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“I’ll go to breakfast. Won’t mention I’m a robot. Humanoid. Whatever.”

And so you and Kun went to breakfast. Kunhang and Ten were already in there, as they usually were, being in charge of the meals. Kunhang took a long sip of his cup of coffee before nodding appreciatively.

“Good stuff, Y/N,” he lifted the mug in your direction from where he was leaning against one of the counters.

“And Wong hasn’t broken it again since you fixed it,” Ten added.

“Good to hear it’s still functional,” you replied, taking your usual seat around the table.

“I think you improved it, actually,” Kunhang mused, taking another sip.

Dejun came in then, still looking half-asleep, practically falling into his chair and dropping his head into his arms. He said something that was muffled by the table.

“What was that, Xiao?” Kunhang asked, handing Ten the first plate for him to start dishing up the food.

“I’m going to kill Liu,” Dejun pulled his face out of his arms to deadpan. “Kid sleeptalked for four hours last night. I was about to smother him.”

“Earplugs?” You suggested.

“First thing I tried. Barely lower it to an indiscernible mumble.”

Ten asked over his shoulder, “Did he at least say anything good this time?”

“No. He was just saying some crazy shit about those people-robots from Aegeum again.” The doctor ran two hands through his hair, making his bedhead stick up even more.

You froze for a moment, noticing that Kun also tensed as Dejun kept ranting about his roommate.

“First it was a bunch of jargon about people-robots and positronic brains and whatever the fuck. Then he said something about the robot not remembering it was a robot, which, like, I think is literally impossible?”

Kunhang laughed, “How would that work? I’m not going to get amnesia and wake up one day and think I’m a Skipper.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Ten called for you, also cracking a smile. “Do you think we could’ve convinced you that you were a K’llor if we tried? When we found you in the shelter?”

You chuckled lightly, tapping your fingernails on the table. “Probably not. Don’t really look like them, you know?”

Yangyang walked in then, looking about as worse for wear as Dejun. He collapsed into his chair, lolling his head back as he groaned, “I’ll marry whoever gets me a coffee of cup right now.”

“No, you do not get the first cup after keeping me up with your sleeptalking for four hours straight,” Dejun snapped.

“Ever heard of earplugs?”

“I should’ve smothered you with your pillow last night, you ungrateful little—”

You grabbed Dejun’s shoulders before he could lunge across the table and very possibly strangle Yangyang right then. After less-than-gently pushing him back down in his chair, you stood up, offering, “I’ll make both of you a cup, if neither of you marries me or kills each other. Sound good?”

They grumbled something that sounded enough like an agreement that you headed towards the coffee maker, setting two mugs side-by-side and starting the two cups to brew simultaneously.

The Professor came into the kitchen last, as usual, looking around with hopeful eyes. “Coffee?”

Kun didn’t say a single word through breakfast, very clearly on edge as he maintained a death grip on his utensils, and shot Yangyang a warning look with every mention of robots, or positronic brains, or any technology at all. Which made for a very uncomfortable breakfast, considering that was seemingly the only thing that everybody wanted to talk about this particular morning, presumably due to Dejun’s complaints of the roboticist’s sleeptalking.

When you were done with your food, you rushed to excuse yourself from the suffocating atmosphere. “I was in the middle of something—”

“Oh, Y/N!” Ten caught your attention before you could fully leave, though. “Did you want to see the slipdrive today?”

“Sure, Ten, uhm, later?” You requested. “I started a good article on water filtration and irrigation in ag bubbles this morning. Would you mind if I finished it first?”

“No rush. We’re stuck here for another two weeks.”

“Thanks.”

Back in your room, you brought out your tablet, rummaging through the files stored in the Vision’s server to find the ones from the most recent mission on Aegeum. Specifically, ZEN’s archiving of all the Outspacer glyphs that the crew encountered. You pulled up the ones from the info panel on the ag bubble, at the only three glyphs that weren’t fully translated.

Person-machine-move. People-robots.

The door to your cabin opened again, and you didn’t even greet Kun, still staring at those glyphs, trying to make any additional sense of them with what you knew now about yourself.

“I’m the proof, aren’t I?” You looked back at Kun.

He slowed to a stop a few steps back from you, clearly at a loss for words. “I…”

“Positronic brain in a human skull. That’s what Yangyang said. Humanoid.” That was from before you were in the diagnostics stasis, and before the order, you could remember it all.

“Yeah, that’s what he was saying when he was… running diagnostics.”

You looked back at the tablet, quickly pulling up the emergency manual for a partial scrub. “We didn’t leave Aegeum without finding the proof of concept, you guys found it on your first day.”

Preserved in a safety shelter, with no recollection that you were the proof, or even an inkling that you were not human. Safety mechanisms. Your head was hurting.

When you turned to Kun again, you saw his eyes were shining, and he put the back of his hand over his mouth as he seemed unable to form any words. You felt an ugly hatred in you as you looked at him. Not a hatred for him, but for the situation that you two were in, that had broken the seemingly unshakable captain down to misty-eyed silence, to such uncertainty. You couldn’t even hold him to comfort him without making him feel even worse, like he was taking advantage of you by you offering your affection willingly. The tablet in your hands still displayed the directions from Aegeum. Only the Admiral and the Research Director can order a scrub. You understood Kun celebrating Dr. Yoon’s death, as you wished very much in that moment for him to have never existed.

“I want to apologize for something, and I know it’s not my fault, but I don’t know how else I could possibly make you feel better,” you stated hoarsely, unaware of exactly when your throat became that parched.

Kun look at you with clear confusion on his features. “What are you talking about?”

“I was created by him. By the man who… did what he did to you. How could you not hate me too? Suspect the worst of me?”

He shook his head quickly. “Y/N, no. Remember what you told me? He didn’t create me or you—”

“You have parents. A life before him. That’s objectively true,” you cut him off. “I was built. There’s concept sketches and blueprints and multi-phase procedural experiments of me. In his lab.”

“And none of that is your fault.”

You got to your feet, meeting Kun’s pleading gaze steadily. “Maybe you’re right, Kun. We need time. I don’t think you’ve thought this—me—all the way through.”

Dejun found you on the observatory deck, hugging your knees to your chest and staring down through the glass bottom of the ship at the inky blackness beneath you.

“Hey.” He stood next to you.

“Hi.” You didn’t even try to conceal your sullen tone or glum features from him.

The doctor eased himself down to sit across the glass panel from you. “I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you, so: What’s going on with you and the captain?”

“You’ve noticed something is different.”

“Yeah, breakfast felt a bit… off.”

“I can’t… say too much.”

“That’s alright. I was just checking on you. I’m your friend, Y/N.”

You rested your cheek on one of your knees, piecing together your words in your head first before you said them. “Kun isn’t sure if we should continue our relationship.”

“What? He said as much? In so many words?” Dejun clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“More.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yes…”

Dejun took your hesitance in stride, following up with another question, “Are you able to tell me why?”

You once again had to muse on what to say for some time before you spoke. “He thinks that due to… circumstances… I didn’t have much say in the matter.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he snorted. “None of us do. We’re on a black ops mission deployed for an indefinite amount of time, all of us selected specifically because we had no family in case it went bad, and doing some incredibly shady things for the government. I don’t know how he can possibly be using any normal dating metrics right now. But anybody who just watches the two of you can tell that you’ve gotten something good, really good, out of whatever the fuck we’re doing. Love, connection, partnership, whatever you want to call it.”

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you. I think that too. I don’t think it’s just… infatuation or an obligation or whatever he’s afraid of. But I also can’t remember ever being in love before, or infatuated before, so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“He doesn’t get decide if you’re in love or not. That’s stupid. I don’t care how noble he thinks he’s being.”

“I… also have my own reservations, to be fair to him. This situation isn’t entirely his doing,” you added.

“You think he has a point? You did kind of get with the first guy you laid eyes on after losing your memory…” Your friend said.

“Kun had a helmet on when I met him,” you reminded him with an eye roll. “The first one of you whose face I saw was Kunhang, actually.”

“That’s true.”

“But no, that’s not my concern.”

“So what is it? I’m assuming you want to talk about it, since you brought it up.”

“I don’t think he’s… letting himself really see all of me. The good and the bad. I don’t want him to fall in love with this fake version of me that he’s convinced himself is true, then one day wake up and realize who I actually am and decide that I’ve changed and hate me for it.”

“You’ve got amnesia,” Dejun arched an eyebrow. “Kind of a big problem if he’s already ignoring the few things we do know about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been as honest as possible with him, but he just makes excuses.”

Your friend sighed and leaned back against the bench that was behind him. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix all your problems, Y/N. Make the captain stop being stupid, make everything make sense for you. You’ve been through enough.”

“I appreciate the thought, Dejun.”

“Liu and I have got a spare bunk, you’re welcome to it any time. You’ll have to put up with the kid’s sleeptalking, of course, but…”

“Thanks,” you actually smiled this time, remembering their spat over the sleeptalking that happened just an hour ago. “We both agreed to take some time to think.”

“If you show up to our cabin at bedtime tonight, no questions asked, I promise. I’ll smother the kid myself.”

“It sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to kill Yangyang at this point,” you laughed.

“Whatever it takes,” he joked, cracking his knuckles.

⇢ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[starlightkun]

⇢ word count: 20.8k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, brief blood and gore descriptions (some human and some non-human), you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that, multiple needle/injection mentions, knife/injury/blood description, main characters are morally gray, and oh yeah cursing ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ series masterlist | prev. | next

“You deserve to know that I’m not entirely human.”

“Is that really how you feel? Inhuman?”

“There are parts of me that are… manufactured. Irrevocably altered. I don’t think I remember how it felt before I was like this.”

The next morning, you were awake early again. You stared into the darkness, listening to Dejun’s breathing. The distant sounds of two voices started getting closer, and you perked up at this. If some of the others were up, you’d be more than happy to join them, see if they needed any help getting breakfast together.

Just as you’d swung your legs over the side of your cot to stand, you heard the distinct sound of your name float in as it sounded like they had stopped right at the campfire. They were keeping their voices low, but it did little to help with the absolute silence all around. You paused, overwhelmed with curiosity.

“I asked Xiao last night, if he thinks Y/N will ever remember.” The first voice was Kun, and you looked at the sleeping doctor in front of you curiously. You could only imagine this conversation happened before you walked into the captain’s tent last night.

“Yeah?” It was Kunhang with him. “What’d he say?”

“He can’t say for sure at this point, since he doesn’t know what caused it.”

“Useful.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Part of me hopes she doesn’t remember.” Kunhang let out a bitter sigh with his words.

“What?” Kun responded, and you imagined that his face was as bewildered as yours was right now. Why wouldn’t Kunhang want you to regain your memories?

“Dude, you saw where we found her.”

“God, yeah. The sort of shit she probably saw.”

“Or did. She’s the only survivor. You don’t exactly get through Hell by being sweet and virtuous.”

Kun’s voice was surprisingly harsh, “We don’t know—”

“Hey, no judgment here. Who knows what she had to do to survive. I wouldn’t want to remember that either.”

“Her hands were clean when we found her.”

“A bit too clean, don’t you think?” A third voice had joined them now, Ten.

“Maybe she hid early, got out before the worst of it.” Kun was still vehemently defending you.

“You think the same person who pulls people out of the way of falling ceiling chunks without thinking is a coward?”

“I’m saying we don’t know anything.”

“And I’m just saying something’s not right about how Y/N ended up in there, Captain.”

“Nothing here is right, Ten. This facility, the experiments, the Skippers, all of it.”

“And you’re letting the only person left who might be responsible for it walk around free.”

“I wouldn’t call being stuck with all of us ‘free.’”

“But it’s not exactly a prisoner’s watch.”

“Because she’s not a prisoner. For all we know they could’ve been experimenting on her—”

“Or she’s part of that vague They we keep referring to.”

There was a moment of tense silence—or at least it sure felt strained to you from inside your tent, you had to imagine it was suffocating out there—before Kun spoke again. “We have no clue what was going on here, and no proof that she did anything. Until we know anything for certain, I’m not going to treat her like a criminal.”

“I’m not saying you have to. Look, I like her too, she seems like a nice person, but maybe—”

A loud yawn came from your roommate’s cot, and the conversation outside suddenly ceased. Dejun sat up slowly, rubbing sleep out of his eye as he let out another forceful yawn.

“Oh, morning, Y/N,” he greeted you, stretching and groaning. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I uh, I just woke up,” you replied awkwardly. A couple minutes could be classified as just, you were pretty sure. “How about you? Sleep okay?”

“Mm, like a baby. You’re a much better bunkmate than Liu. Kid talks in his sleep. Recites code and equations.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the mental image, momentarily distracted from the conversation you’d just been listening to. “That’s rather unfortunate for Ten and Kunhang then.”

Dejun shrugged. “Wong shouldn’t have been such a weirdo, then he might’ve been your roomie.”

He stood up then, groaning as he leaned over to touch his toes, then reached up and fully stretched his arms over his head. “Alright, breakfast?”

Ten and Kunhang had just started on breakfast when you left your tent, and apparently didn’t need any help, so with nothing better left to do and a lot on your mind, you turned down the paths between the fields. The artificial sun had already risen, full daylight around you, making it easy to keep your eyes on the ground under your feet. It wasn’t long until you heard footsteps behind you. You stopped in your tracks and turned to see who it was.

“Don’t tell me I’m late for breakfast again,” you groaned. “I’ve been gone for two minutes.”

“No, you’re not,” Kun informed you, putting his hands in his pockets as he stopped in front of you. “Can I join you? On your walk?”

You put your hands on your hips, suspicious. “Why?”

“Why do I want to walk with you?”

“Yeah. The exit doors are within view of camp.”

“I don’t think you’re trying to escape. If you managed to get out of the facility, your only two options would be a K’llor ship that you don’t know the state of, and our ship that has ZEN on it, who would never let you past the entry bay, much less off the surface. I don’t think you’re that stupid. Are you?”

“No. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“So… was that a no on the walk?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Kun,” you replied frankly. “You’re not as good at that as you think you are.”

“At what? Avoiding?”

“Yes, like you’re doing now. Why do you want to walk with me?”

“You went on a walk with Liu yesterday, did you interrogate him beforehand as well?”

“You’re still not answering my question, you’re just asking me more questions.”

He rubbed his face and sighed. “You know, never mind.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Really? You just fold like that?”

“Clearly you want to be alone. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t say that. All I did was ask you a simple question that you apparently can’t answer.”

“Ten and Wong are almost done with breakfast, I’d get going on that walk if I were you.”

“Fine.” You held your hands up. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Five minutes wasn’t nearly long enough for your liking, but as promised, you were back at the camp for breakfast. Kun and Dejun were already discussing something when you got back, Ten and Kunhang made you a bit uneasy after the conversation you overheard this morning, so you were pleasantly surprised when the Professor intercepted you, already with two plates of food in his hands.

“Want to eat with me?” He offered. “We can talk about plans for today.”

“Sure, Professor,” you accepted the food from him gratefully.

“I don’t think the notes will be too excessive for you to go through,” he began. “ZEN came equipped with the UHN’s entire language database, including what few Outspacer glyphs they had. My notes are just additions to that gathered during this mission—it’s not my focus language back in academia, so you’re not going to be reviewing years’ worth of research or anything.”

“What is your focus language then? For your xenolinguistics?”

The Professor momentarily looked over your shoulder, then back to you. “Ourogish.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Can you… make all those sounds?”

“I speak with an accent. But it’s passable.”

So they were doing something involving Ourogos and/or the Ourogi. Didn’t help much more, but it was information.

“So any corrections, missing links, anything you can give me and ZEN will be a help,” the Professor continued.

“I mean, I don’t know how good of a teacher I’ll be… I don’t even remember learning it.”

“Don’t worry, ZEN and I are quick learners.”

The other five left right after breakfast, and you were left with the Professor and ZEN. You took the Professor’s tablet that contained all of his notes under the shade of a tree in one of the nearby orchards. Resting your cheek in your palm, you started in on the file that had already been opened for you. You doubted ZEN would let you access anything else that was on here. The AI was projecting himself as a small cube above your knees, slowly bobbing up and down like a buoy in the ocean, but otherwise quiet as you worked.

The Professor, meanwhile, was restless, asking you what you were doing every two minutes, as he did something to the tree you were under, which you could hear by the rustling of branches and leaves.

After the fifth interruption, you finally told him through gritted teeth, “You know, Professor, this would go much faster if you didn’t stop me every two minutes.”

“Right. Sorry!” And he went back to messing with the tree.

A few moments later, he plopped down next to you, breathless, and held a plum out to you. You looked between him and the deep maroon fruit before accepting it.

“You seem off,” he said.

“What?” You mumbled, setting your plum aside.

“You seem off.”

“Do I?”

“Pissed that you have a babysitter?”

“Aren’t you pissed that you got landed with babysitting duty?”

He shrugged, taking a bite of his plum. “I’m a civvie, remember? I’d much rather stick back here and talk about a dead language than go look at a bunch of alien corpses.”

You made a noise of acknowledgment, still combing through his notes on syntax.

“So… What’d you do?”

“What?”

“To get put in time out. What’d you do that you need a babysitter?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, pushing some of your hair back from your face. “I deserve it, I know I do. It’s perfectly reasonable for Kun to stick me in camp all day but—I hate it.”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He nudged you with his elbow. “Us civvies have got to stick together, you know. What’d you do?”

“We were walking through the facility yesterday, and a piece of ceiling came loose. I didn’t even think about it, I just pulled Kun back so it didn’t hit him.”

The Professor burst into laughter, a stray drop of plum juice dribbling down his chin as he coughed through it. He sat forward, hitting himself on the chest with a fist. “Oh my God, that’s really good.”

“What’s so funny about that? I’m a liability, he had every right to leave me here with a babysitter.”

“Well, yes,” he chuckled. “If you’re going to be trying to save the guy in Class-V armor as an unarmored civilian with nothing but a rebreather, that’s a little concerning. But it’s also pretty funny. I bet that’s the first time Captain’s been genuinely surprised in years.”

“I’m glad you can see some humor in the situation.” You put your cheek back in your palm, striking out an error in his notes and starting the correction. “I think I ruined my chances of ever leaving the ag bubble again until you all take me to UHN Main for debriefing.”

“It’s not so bad in here.”

“Yeah, but… everything’s out there. Whoever I am, whatever I’ve done, whatever I wanted to do, whoever I wanted to be, is out there, was out there. And I’m stuck in here grading.”

The Professor was quiet, and for a second you were worried that he was offended at your comparison between his notes and a grade-schooler’s homework until he spoke. “Would it change anything?”

“What?”

“If you remembered? If you found out who you were, what you’ve done, what you wanted to do, who you wanted to be? Would it change anything?”

“How could it not?”

“Would you decide that’s who you are now, just because that’s who you were?”

“I-I mean, it was me. I’m not a different person just because I lost my memory.”

“How do you know? You just said, you don’t know who you were, what you’ve done, what sort of future you wanted for yourself.”

“Well…”

“Y/N, what do you want for your life?”

“To remember what it is. My life.”

“And if you can’t? Right now, what do you to do? What sort of person do you want to be?”

“I-I guess I want to be an okay person. Like, pretty good to the people around me? And, live a life that I like? I don’t know a lot about what I like, but I guess I’d figure that out, and do more of that stuff?”

“That’s good. That’s a pretty good aspiration, actually.”

“Isn’t it kind of boring?”

“A little.” He shrugged. “But maybe, the person you were before you lost your memory, didn’t want that. Maybe you wanted something that you would now consider to be bad. Imagine if the you before this wanted to kick as many puppies as possible before you died.”

“Why—”

“It’s a hypothetical. Do you want to do that, right now?”

“No, of course not.”

“If you found out, right now, that you wanted to do that before you lost your memory, would that change anything? Would you suddenly want to kick puppies?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

“And do you want to crusade for Universal Peace until the end of your days?”

“That… sounds very tiring.”

“Yes? No?”

“Probably not.”

“So if you found out that the you before you lost your memory was dedicating your life to doing that, would you suddenly want to? Would that change anything?”

You took a deep breath. “No.”

“Obviously, it’s got to suck not remembering friends or family or anything like that. But you’re still a person without those memories, Y/N. You’re still you, just whoever you are now.”

“Thanks, Professor.” You smiled a little, spinning the stylus around in your fingers.

“Now, why did you cross that out?” He pointed to the section you had been absentmindedly correcting. “I could’ve sworn I had gotten that listing function correct.”

“You were close!”

“You completely scribbled it out.”

That night, you were helping Ten and Kunhang prepare dinner again.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Ten asked as the two of you shucked some corn.

“Yeah, fine,” you answered shortly, tossing a corn husk onto the pile at your feet. “Why?”

“You seem a bit…”

“Off?” You guessed.

“Yeah.”

“That’s what the Professor said earlier.”

“Something happen with the captain?” Kunhang questioned from where he was chopping up ingredients with a pocketknife and plastic container as his cutting board.

You pressed your lips together in a line before replying. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“He uh, he said he was going to join you on your walk this morning. And then came back alone.”

“We had an argument, I guess. It was about nothing.”

“Y/N—”

“No, seriously, it wasn’t anything of substance.” You huffed, grabbing your next cob. “I asked him why he wanted to walk with me, he refused to answer. That’s it.”

There was an odd pause, and you turned your gaze up to see the other two exchanging a look.

Ten spoke next, “Well I’m sure being stuck in the ag bubble with the Professor all day wasn’t fun either.”

“The Professor wasn’t the problem. Sucked being put in timeout. Rightfully so, but it still sucked.” You had finished with your ears of corn, and took them over to Kunhang’s makeshift station.

“So you saved him from getting concussed by falling ceiling with no concern for your own safety, big deal,” Kunhang scoffed, gesturing wildly with both hands as he talked. “If you ask me, that kind of instinct is a good thing. Bit hypocritical for the captain to be punishing you for it anyway.”

Ten watched Kunhang waving the knife around warily. “Careful with that thing, Wong, you’re gonna—”

As Ten was talking, Kunhang had tried to spin the knife around his finger by the handle, but you knew it wasn’t going to be successful, grabbing the spinning blade before it could take his finger off. And before you even realized what you were doing. The action registered in your mind at the same time the sharp edge cutting open your palm did, and you let out a yip of surprise and pain, dropping the knife to the ground.

“—take someone’s eye out.” Ten finished his sentence almost absentmindedly, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—” Kunhang cursed as you all watched blood well up in your hand from the cut. “Captain Qian’s going to kill me.”

“Well don’t just stare, go get Xiao!” Ten scolded his teammate, getting to his feet. “Or—fuck! ZEN! Where’s Xiao? Tell him to get over here!”

“Shit, Y/N!” Kunhang was scrambling around for something. “God damn it! Don’t we have paper towels or something?”

“What the hell is going on out here?” Kun emerged from his tent, annoyed gaze quickly flitting over all three of you before zeroing in on your hand and turning hard. He made it over to you in three quick strides, taking your hand by your fingertips to avoid where your blood had started to drip down your forearm to your elbow.

He looked down at the ground, and saw the knife at your feet glinting in the firelight. “What happened?”

Ten took the lead, “Wong was—”

When the captain immediately turned on him, Kunhang quickly jumped to defend himself.

“No, no, listen, I didn’t—Okay, yes, I probably shouldn’t have been trying out tricks with the knife, but Y/N just grabbed it. I didn’t do this to her,” he pleaded with Kun, then look at you desperately. “Y/N, tell him, come on.”

Kun turned back to you, a frank eyebrow raised. You looked between the three of them and nodded. “He’s telling the truth, Kun.”

“Wong, stop doing knife tricks,” Kun ordered sharply.

Kunhang gulped. “Sir, yes sir.”

“ZEN, call off Xiao,” Kun commanded, making the other two exchange a worried look. The captain’s tone was still biting as he addressed the AI again, “Of course not, tell him I’ve got her.”

Then Kun was ushering you towards his tent, and you obliged. The flap had been clipped up when you entered, and you noted that he unhooked it after him, letting it hang closed and unzipped. He nodded towards his own cot for you to sit, and you did so hesitantly, holding your non-injured hand under your elbow to catch the blood that you were now very aware was dripping onto anything under you.

Kun rooted around in a pack at the end of the cot, then pulled up and sat on the container that had served as your seat last night when you administered his injection. He unhooked his canteen from his waist, putting a towel across his knees before he flushed the wound and washed your arm. He patted your arm dry, and grabbed a flashlight from one of his pockets to shine onto your hand to get a closer look at the cut. It was a thin slice across most of your palm, but the majority of it didn’t look too terribly deep at least. More blood rushed to the surface again as he clicked the flashlight off and put it away, grabbing his next materials.

Kun didn’t even need to speak for you to feel the disappointment seeping off of him. He silently pressed a gauze pad to the slice, and you felt both a dull pressure and sharp sting, gritting your teeth against it to avoid making a sound. As he started wrapping bandages around the site, you finally put some kind of words together.

“I don’t know who I used to be, before I lost my memory,” you started quietly, and he flicked his gaze up from your hand to your eyes for a moment before looking back down at his task. “And it’s going to take a while for me to figure out who I am now. Maybe my whole life. But I know that I can’t stand the thought of seeing anybody, any of you, getting hurt if I can do something about it.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to keep doing stuff like this?” He was still meticulously wrapping your palm.

“Yes. And you can keep me in camp, have the other guys babysit me, whatever you need to do for your mission. But I didn’t want to make some promise to you that I know I’m not going to keep.”

Kun sat up straight again, having finished with bandaging your hand. He held your gaze steadily this time. “I suppose I should thank you for your candidness, and not lying to me just to get out of here.”

“Was that you actually thanking me, or…?”

“Let’s make a deal, since I’m not keen on making you a prisoner in the ag bubble for however long we’re here, you’ve proven yourself useful, and I need my crew out there and not on… babysitting duty.”

You perked up at this. “Okay, what are the terms?”

“I assume Xiao has already asked you to give me the injections?”

“He’s mentioned it. I’m not sure why he thinks I’d convince you any better, but you need them, Kun.”

“You can give me the injections every night, no complaining, no skipping. And you can leave the ag bubble with at least one of us. But whenever you do some stupid thing like this, you come get me, okay? I’m the captain, which makes everyone here my responsibility, including you.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Kun held out a hand, and you eagerly shook it with your non-bandaged one.

“So, I will see you back here after mess then.” He stood, starting to clean up.

“See you then.” You nodded, standing and slipping back out of his tent.

The others had all returned to camp, and Dejun immediately threw his hands up in disbelief as he saw you coming back over.

“What the hell?” He reached for your arm to inspect the bandages. “First I have ZEN telling me you have a medical emergency back at camp, then thirty seconds later he’s telling me there’s direct orders from the captain that I don’t need to come back for your medical emergency because he’s going to take care of it? Did the captain go to med school in the fifteen minutes I was gone?”

“It was just a cut, Dejun,” you reassured him, nevertheless letting him turn over the injured hand. “Clean cut, no debris in the wound, it just needed to be cleaned and bandaged up.”

He rolled his eyes, letting you go. “God, why am I here? Everybody’s a doctor now!”

Mess was a quiet and short affair, and you swore Kunhang scooped out an extra big portion for you tonight. After, everyone tended to their post-mess duties, and you kept an eye on Dejun in your periphery. You weren’t sure how much the others knew about Kun's injections, so you figured intercepting him in your tent to let him know was the safest choice. When Dejun ducked into your tent, you looked at the couple dishes that Ten was still drying and you would then need to put away.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry, but do you mind if I go ask Dejun for something?” You asked them sheepishly, hoping they wouldn’t have any questions for that extremely vague question.

“Oh, shit, your hand!” Ten looked down at it. “Yeah, of course, I’m sure your endorphins have worn off by now, it must hurt like a bitch. Go, we can finish up.”

You hadn’t really thought much about the dull, persistent pain throughout dinner. Sure, it felt a bit uncomfortable whenever you bent or closed your palm, but that wasn’t really in the forefront of your mind. After all, you having a cut palm right now was much more manageable than Kunhang missing a finger for the rest of his life.

You bit down on your lip, feeling a little bad about misleading them, but then shot them a quick smile. “Thanks, guys.”

Hurrying over to your tent, you barely caught Dejun before he left, nearly toppling him over, in fact.

“Jeez, Y/N, see a ghost?” He stumbled back. He was still in his casual clothes, one of his medic packs around his hips like usual.

“No, sorry, didn’t mean to hit you,” you apologized. “I just wanted to find you before you went to Kun’s tent.”

“Why? Everything okay with your hand?” He asked.

“Huh?” You looked down at your hand, having once again forgotten that it was injured for a moment. “Oh, no, I’m okay—”

“I don’t mean to be abrasive, but can it wait? It usually takes at least fifteen minutes of coercion on a good day before he’ll let me do it. If he even does.”

“That’s why I’m here. Kun agreed to let me give him the injections. Every night, no complaining and no skipping,” you explained, watching as his face turned into a deep frown. “That’ll be okay, right? It’s just med-pods, those are designed for soldiers to use on themselves and each other in the field with no medical training.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been doing it because it’s kind of a weird angle for him to get to on his own, and I couldn’t trust him to do it every night himself.” Dejun slowly unzipped the pack, still with that same look on his face.

“Then… what’s wrong? You look worried.”

“Captain Qian just agreed to let you do the injections? Out of the blue?”

“We did make a deal,” you admitted, watching as he pulled a couple things out of the pack.

Dejun’s eyes shot up to yours as he placed a med-pod and alcohol wipe in your clean hand. “And what was your end? Stop catching flying knives with your bare hands?”

“Not quite… We both know I’ll probably do something like that again, so—”

“House arrest? Can’t leave the ag bubble until the mission is over?”

“When I leave the ag bubble, I have to be with one of you guys.”

Dejun didn’t conceal his unimpressed look very well. He probably wasn’t trying to.

“And when I do something like this again,” you held up your injured hand, “I have to tell him, since he’s responsible for everyone.”

The doctor rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Uh-huh. Go, I don’t want to give snark to the wrong person.”

“What—”

“Go. You need to give the captain his injection, remember?”

“Right. Uh, see you in a bit.” You tucked the materials into your pocket before ducking out of your tent.

The entrance to Kun’s tent was still down and unzipped, and you stopped outside, having learned your lesson last night. Hesitantly, you called out his name instead.

“Come in.”

You quickly parted the flap and slipped inside.

Kun was sitting on his cot already, and when he had appraised that you were alone, you saw his features contort from their usual stoic default to a slight wince. You pulled up the container seat next to him, and gestured for him to lie down.

“How’s your hand?” He asked, staying upright as he reached for your extremity.

“It’s fine, Kun,” you informed him, letting him look over the bandages. “Honestly, I keep forgetting about it, it barely even hurts.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Now come on, your turn.” You took your hand back and pointed insistently at the cot.

He grabbed at his lower back and huffed a little bit as he maneuvered around to lay on his front. You frowned thoughtfully as he pulled up the hem of his shirt for you.

“Is the med-pod as effective as before?” You questioned, opening the disinfectant wipe.

“How do you mean?”

You delicately wiped the area, careful not to touch his skin with your fingers. “Is it wearing off faster? Does it not relieve as much pain as before?”

“I can’t be using up all our supplies.”

“Is that a yes?”

“One is fine.”

“But two would be more effective.”

“I can’t be using twice as many as before. If someone else needs them—”

“The UHN won’t resupply your vessel?”

He sighed. “They will. I’m just—I don’t know. I’m used to scarcity and self-reliance. Must be a Dura-Jil boy thing.”

You lined the med-pod up, and like last night, didn’t give a countdown before pressing the start button. “Is this your first crew?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you said you’re used to self-reliance. If you’d been a captain for a while, you would have gotten used to relying on others, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, they are,” he chuckled fondly. “I do rely on them. Or I’m learning to, I guess.”

There was a pause, and as you watched the med-pod drain you felt a sense of urgency, not wanting to waste the opportunity you had in front of you. The conversation you’d heard this morning was still on your mind.

“What if it turns out that I was involved in whatever was going on here? Did horrible stuff…” You asked tentatively. “Then what’ll you do?”

“I don’t think you were,” he replied simply.

“You don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Call it a hunch.”

“I won’t resist, or try to escape. Whatever the UHN wants to do with me, I’ll comply fully,” you declared, quiet but firm in your convictions.

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, brow furrowed. “Why are you talking like you’ve already been put on trial and found guilty? You just said it yourself, we don’t know anything. Either way.”

“Yeah, but we know they weren’t doing good things here… and I’m here.”

“No, we don’t even know what they were doing here. Somebody made sure of that. Besides, you could’ve been scrubbing the floors for all we know. I don’t think you deserve the death sentence for that.”

“I doubt they had people scrubbing the floors…” You pointed out.

“I’m just saying, there’s other reasons you could’ve been here, Y/N.”

“Like… being experimented on.”

“I didn’t want to say anything.” His gaze and his tone softened. “Do you… You don’t remember anything like that, do you?”

“No, I don’t have any episodic memories before meeting you. But that’s what you were thinking, right? That I was either the experimenter or the subject?”

“You weren’t wearing a lab coat when we found you, and you don’t have a neural port.”

“Dejun doesn’t have a neural port, and he’s UHN.”

“We don’t know enough to think anything about anything, okay?”

“ZEN should be finished with synthesizing the Outspacer into his translation program by morning. We can go through the computer tomorrow,” you reiterated yours and the Professor’s report from the pre-mess meeting. “With any luck, there will be employee profiles.”

“And what will you be hoping to find in them?”

“The truth.” The med-pod clicked off then, and you reached out to grab the empty device. “Whatever that is.”

Kun sat up, keeping his eyes on you as you went to stand. Your task was done for the night, so was your time with him.

“Why do you seem so convinced that you were involved?” He questioned, drawing you back into conversation and stopping you from leaving entirely.

“I… know too much, Kun.” You shook your head. “Why do you seem so convinced that I wasn’t?”

“You said it yourself, Y/N. You can’t stand the thought of seeing anybody get hurt if you can do something about it. I find it hard to believe that you’d do something like… whatever what going on here.”

“Dejun said that humans can do really bad stuff if they think they’re doing the right thing. Even to each other. Maybe I just thought it was the right thing.”

“Maybe,” Kun shrugged. “Or maybe you didn’t do anything. What were you two talking about? When he said that.”

“Your skeletal enhancements,” you admitted.

“I see.”

“Do you know how much longer your mission here will be?” You asked. “When can you get your next adjustment? Dejun said it happens at UHN Main, so it’ll be when you drop me off after this, right?”

“No, I don’t know how much longer this mission will take,” he replied. “It depends on what you and ZEN find on that computer tomorrow. And yes, it’ll be at UHN Main.”

“Then ZEN and I will just have to be quick.”

“Don’t rush for my sake,” he warned, an edge to his voice. “We need to make sure we get everything from here. I can wait.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Fine. But I’m bringing two med-pods tomorrow, and you’re taking both of them, no complaints, no skipping. Understood?”

The corner of his lip twitched as he nodded. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kun.”

And with that, you left his tent. Back in your own, you gave the med-pod back to Dejun, filling him in on Kun’s condition.

“It’s getting worse,” you told the doctor, keeping your voice hushed. “The medication wears off faster and isn’t as effective. I think he needs two.”

“Damn it…” He sighed, zipping the pack up. “Yeah, start taking two tomorrow. Stupid son of a bitch. I told him not to skip his last tune-up.”

“Do you have any idea how much longer he can go without one before… it gets worse?”

“No.” Dejun informed you shortly, running a hand through his hair. “No clue. This is the longest he’s missed one before.”

“Oh no…”

“Yeah. Like I said, stupid son of a bitch.”

“This mission… He really believes it’s that important? More than him? Than his health?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “The program he was in… Let’s say he didn’t just get some skeletal enhancements and cool armor. You should ask him about it.”

You were quiet, and Dejun plopped himself back down onto his cot. You silently put yourself to bed, staring up at the ceiling of the tent listlessly as Dejun put out the lamp, plunging you into the darkness of night.

Resting your cheek in the palm of your injured hand, you tapped the edge of the keyboard with your fingernail anxiously as you waited. ZEN had to break off another fragment with his new Outspacer translation update, then join those two fragments together once plugged into the computer. And of course, the fragment(s) in the computer were asynchronous with the one in the crew’s HUDs and the Professor’s tablet, so there was no way for you to get an update from the ZEN that could actually vocalize anything. The computer had no microphone or speakers that you could see, only the keyboard, mouse, and monitor in front of you. You couldn’t even see the end of where the wires led, the actual computer itself. ZEN was plugged into a docking station at the base of the monitor.

The entire crew was in the robotics lab. Some milling around behind where you were sat at the computer, a couple others looking at the defunct robots in the side room.

Yangyang walked up behind you, one of the schematics books in his hands again.

“I didn’t know you were ambidextrous,” he commented conversationally, his eyes on the pages.

“What?” You looked up at him questioningly.

“Your hand,” he gestured to the bandaged one, “You caught the knife with that one, but you’re using the computer with the other. I don’t think my first instinct would be to catch a flying knife with my non-dominant hand. Well, it wouldn’t be to catch it all, but still.”

You looked down at your hand that was hovering over the mouse. “Oh. I don’t know, I guess.”

“What do you make of this?” He pointed to a drawing.

“It… looks like a hand. A prosthetic?”

“There’s no indication of anything mechanical, why’d you jump to prosthetic?”

“You found it in a robotics lab. I didn’t think they’d be doing anatomy practice for fun.”

“Robot-people…” Ten muttered under his breath.

A small window popped up in the bottom right of the right then, a chat box.

ZEN: I’m ready.

Y/N: How are we dividing this?

ZEN: I can review data without interrupting you.

Y/N: I’ll start in the first folder, you start at the last, we’ll work our way towards the middle?

ZEN: I’ll let you know if I find anything of interest.

Clicking into the first folder, ‘Robotics,’ you skimmed through the subfolder options. They were mainly named with seemingly incomprehensible codes, combinations of glyphs and numbers that made no sense. You randomly clicked into the first one anyway, and were presented with more subfolders. These were simply labeled in trial phases and sub-phases: Phase 0.1, 0.1.2, 1.0, 1.3, 1.5, 2.0.3. You again clicked on the very first one, 0.1, and were greeted with nothing. It was empty, not a single file to actually review. You clicked back out and selected the next one, 0.1.2. Empty again. Narrowing your eyes at the display, you clicked on 1.0, hoping that they had just maybe moved all of those into the succeeding phase. Nothing.

Letting out a huff, you clicked back into the chat window.

Y/N: ZEN, do any of the folders I’m looking in actually have anything?

ZEN: No.

Y/N: In the entire Robotics folder?

ZEN: No data.

You groaned, going back out to the main menu.

“What?” Kun questioned as you clicked into ‘Synthetic Biology.’

“That folder was purged. It’s just empty subfolders,” you informed them with a sigh.

“What were the subfolders?” Yangyang asked with interest.

“The main branches were just random glyphs? And then each main folder had even more subfolders with phases.”

“Must have been project names. Maybe serial numbers?” The roboticist suggested. “Can you go back?”

You did as he asked. “Now what?”

“Just read the first one for me? The individual glyphs, not as a sentence.”

“Blue, red, add, inside-of, twelve hundred. As in the time, not one-thousand and two hundred.”

“Noon?”

“Well, yeah,” you nodded. “But I figure everyone used twenty-four-hour time around here, right?”

“What are you thinking, kid?” Kunhang asked knowingly.

“Assuming it’s meant to be read as noon, translated back out and using only the first letters… B-R-A-I-N. Brain.”

The Professor lit up at this. “A code within a code! What’s the next one?”

You read it off, “Cube, add, sun, inside-of, noon, green. Casing?”

“Positronic brain casing. Like the sketch!” Yangyang practically ran to get the other sketchbook. “That must have had the actually specs and computer modeling of it. These sketches are just conceptual.”

“It’s a robotics lab, it’s not a surprise that they would’ve had positronic brains here,” Dejun pointed out frankly.

“Keep going, Y/N, he hates fun,” Yangyang urged you on, the Professor right on your other side with his tablet.

You read out all of the glyphs, every so often needing input from the others to find a more colloquial synonym in standard human that would actually make a real word. By the time that you were done with all of the folders, ZEN had popped up in your chat window again.

ZEN: I believe I may have found something of interest.

Y/N: Can you display it?

ZEN: Certainly.

And seemingly on its own, the computer went into the Facility folder, then into one of the subfolders. Before you could even begin to work through the nonsense Outspacer code, ZEN had already translated it for you.

ZEN: Employee files, by department. The personnel files themselves are no longer in here, but the comms directory survived.

“ZEN found something,” you announced to the others. “Employee directory. He says the actual personnel files are gone, but the comms directory is here.”

“So we’ve got a partial list of who was here,” Kun surmised. “Whoever had their own extension, at least.”

ZEN brought it up for you, and you skimmed through the names quickly, looking only for one. When you got to the end, however, despite not having seen your own name there, you still couldn’t let out the breath you were holding. This was only a partial list, after all. You could’ve just as easily worked here and not had an extension on the comms directory.

“Are those… pager numbers?” Dejun asked, leaning in over your shoulder to squint at the screen suspiciously. “On the second page. The first page are all three-digit comms extensions, presumably department heads and general-use areas, but this looks like a list of individual pager numbers.”

“They don’t look different than any old phone numbers, why would they be pager numbers?” Kun asked.

“Well, cell phones are entirely outdated with interstellar travel, but in the medical field, we still use pagers for quick communication within facilities. It doesn’t get clogged up with everything that’s in a HUD, they’re a cheap and efficient way to get short bursts of information from person-to-person. Medical facilities will usually set up their own short-range tower that’s only used by pagers issued by that facility to providers,” he explained. “The only thing on this planet is this facility, pagers solve intra-facility communication issues, and prevent anything from being sent out. Nowadays, ships don’t have receivers to pick up this kind of signal, if they even got close enough. They’d only be able to send messages from pager-to-pager here.”

“Everyone can talk to each other, but can’t send information to outsiders,” the captain paraphrased.

“Hold on a second,” Kunhang announced before abruptly leaving the room.

Everyone watched the door after him in confusion, occasionally looking around to see if anybody else was going to do something. You assumed the others who still had their helmets on could see what he was doing in their HUDs, as a couple let out noises of disgust, then a few moments later Kunhang burst through the door. He was triumphantly holding up a small grey rectangle, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

“Here!” He thrust it out towards Dejun. “Is this a pager?”

“I could’ve told you that without you pulling it off a dead body…” The doctor sighed, removing his own helmet before taking the small device into his hands anyway. As he turned it over, you saw several dark splotches on it. “Yes, this is a pager. They probably gave one to everyone working here.”

Your eyes quickly went back to the screen, to reread the list more closely this time. Nothing, again.

You went back to the chat window.

Y/N: Have you found anything else? We got stuck back in Robotics.

ZEN: No data in Synthetic Biology, Administrative, and Support. Facility still has files in it.

Y/N: What else is in there besides the directory?

ZEN: Maintenance history, blueprints of the entire facility, emergency protocols.

Y/N: What sorts of emergencies?

ZEN: Fire, severe surface weather, emergent stratospheric weather, alien invasion, human invasion. I can’t translate the final one.

Y/N: Pull it up.

With the first page of the mystery emergency protocol on the screen, you immediately realized that this gibberish must be in the code again, and went back to read the title again.

“Sun, cube, red, under, blue, blue, inside-of, noon, green. Scrubbing?” You squinted at the screen. “There’s no way this is a cleaning manual…”

Y/N: Scrubbing? Does that make sense with the rest of the document?

ZEN: It does not contain instructions for cleaning.

Y/N: What is in it?

ZEN: I do not believe I was equipped with many of these glyphs, and my algorithm is having trouble extrapolating reasonable suggestions for them without enough contextual words.

Y/N: You really just have a bunch of grammar and mostly food vocabulary, not a full dictionary. It’s okay, I’ll skim.

“You’re typing a lot,” Yangyang observed. “Is scrubbing good? Bad? What’s happening?”

“ZEN found the emergency protocols. There’s the usual stuff, though the addition of a ‘human invasion’ protocol at this human research facility is rather interesting,” you informed the others, scrolling to the next page of the document. “There’s one that he couldn’t translate the name of, though. He doesn’t have enough vocabulary to make any sense of the inside, either.”

“Scrubbing,” Kunhang determined. “And you said it’s not for cleaning? Maybe it’s like a hazmat thing?”

“No…” You shook your head, looking over just the headers. “This is definitely about… computers? Wait, and fire….?”

“Data,” Kun interrupted. “It’s about purging all classified data from a facility, digital and physical. That’s what scrubbing is.”

You all looked at each other knowingly. It was Kun who said what everyone was thinking, however.

“The Skippers interrupted the facility before they could finish scrubbing. The question is why they started the scrub in the first place.”

“It says here only two people can order a… scrub.” You read off the protocol stiltedly. “The… Sorry, give me a second.”

“Are you okay?” Kun had made his way to the front of the group, next to the chair you were in.

You pushed the heel of your palm against the space between your brows, squeezing your eyes shut. “Yeah, fine. It keeps switching back and forth between normal Outspacer and that code, it’s giving me a headache to read.”

“They probably used the code whenever there wasn’t a good Outspacer approximate for the word they wanted to use,” the Professor suggested, his voice rising with excitement. “It’s like… a pidgin of Outspacer and standard human with sneaky intelligence code thrown in. God, this is so fascinating!”

“Can ZEN or the Professor do the code?” Kun grabbed your shoulder, gently turning you away from the computer.

“I’d love to take a crack at it!” The Professor rubbed his hands together excitedly.

You let Kun usher you to your feet, and the Professor hurriedly took your seat. Dejun met you and Kun at the back of the group, a frown on his features.

“How’s the pain? Same kind as before?” The doctor asked.

“Yeah, same pressure,” you confirmed, still holding your head. “Not as bad, though.”

“I keep telling you and everyone else that you need to let your brain rest. And what do you do? Teach an AI a dead alien language, decode ciphers in said dead alien language…”

“Right. Sorry…”

“You can’t give her anything?” Kun questioned. “At least for the headache? She’ll rest tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s already going away. Save your supplies.”

“Y/N—”

“I don’t really have anything for minor bumps on me,” Dejun interrupted before Kun could escalate your bickering. “That’s back on the Vision. Just took the essentials down.”

“Admiral!” The Professor yelled out enthusiastically. “Only the Admiral, and the… Research Director can order a scrub.”

“Is that all it says? Just Admiral? Not Rear Admiral, or Vice Admiral, or Fleet Admiral?” Kun questioned.

“The Admiral, or an Admiral?” You added.

The Professor looked back at the screen as if double-checking his work. “Definitely the Admiral. I’m assuming that would be whichever one was overseeing this facility? Doesn’t give a name. And it’s just Admiral. But there’s two kinds of scrubs, actually. A partial and a full scrub.”

“What’s the point of a partial scrub?” Ten asked. “Why would you destroy only some confidential stuff, but not all of it? Isn’t the point to leave nothing behind?”

“Don’t know, but the partial scrub protocol only has them spare one thing.”

“Must be pretty damn important,” Kunhang commented. “What is it? A port-drive or something?”

“I doubt many of the personnel here had neural ports,” Dejun said. “They were scientists. I’ve only seen a couple on bodies since we’ve been here, and they were clearly soldiers.”

“Well? Does it say?” Yangyang prompted the Professor.

“Yeah, but it’s about as helpful as ‘Admiral’ was,” he sighed. “‘Proof of concept.’ A partial scrub preserves the proof of concept, with some of its own security protocols in place.”

“Proof of what concept? We don’t even know what they were trying to do here,” Dejun scoffed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Yangyang seemed interested again, though. “The proof of concept has its own security protocols? Is there any indicator if they’re internal or external? Like if it’s locked up somewhere, or if it might be… programmed into the proof itself?”

“No, it doesn’t say,” the Professor answered.

“What are you thinking, Liu?” Kun prompted the younger man.

“If it’s some kind of… robot, then they could program whatever security protocols they needed into it to make it secure for this partial scrub, without completely destroying all their years of work. But if it was… biological, it would probably need some kind of external security to not only prevent the wrong people from finding it, but also stop it from uh, escaping…”

“And what if it was a person-robot?” Ten replied.

The roboticist shook his head. “They just say proof of concept. That’s usually not anywhere close to the final product. I can’t imagine they actually made a person-robot, whatever that entails. After all, the ag bubble was still set for humans when we got here. And proofs of concept aren’t meant to be a fleshed-out prototype of the final product, either. They’re just supposed to test one or two functions of it and be thrown away after.”

“But this one was worth risking a security breach over,” Kun pinched the bridge of his nose. “Professor, in the full scrub protocol, does it say when the proof would be destroyed? First? Last?”

“Uhm…” He went back to the screen, scrolling and squinting at it for a moment before answering. “First.”

That garnered a few groans from the soldiers around you, but you saw the Professor suddenly perk up as he continued through the document.

“What is it?” You asked. “Something else?”

“That’s not the only difference between a partial and full scrub. The order’s different. I guess since a full scrub is a little more scorched-Earth and a partial scrub has to leave at least some kind of either digital or physical infrastructure for the proof… I think we can figure out if they were doing a partial or full scrub before the Skippers got here.”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a lot of things that happen simultaneously, Robotics destroying digital data while SynthBio destroys physical specimens…” The Professor hummed as he continued skimming. “But in a full scrub, the entire facility would be burned at once. In a partial, they only have directions to burn certain areas: the two labs, the Research Director’s office, places like that.”

“So there’s no individual fires in the full scrub?” Kun clarified. “It would all go up at once?”

“Yeah, just one big boom at the end.”

You all looked at each other knowingly, then at Kun expectantly.

“So they were doing a partial scrub,” he declared. “Which means we need to find that proof of concept.”

“We don’t know what it could even be, what it looks like, if it’s physical or digital,” Ten pointed out.

“It’s the best lead we’ve got. Has anybody seen anything out of the ordinary?”

“Uh… Everything?” Kunhang said pointedly.

“Very helpful, Wong, thank you,” the captain retorted. “Come on, guys, anything?”

“Was there anything in that safe room with Y/N?” Yangyang offered. “When you found her? Only survivor… might’ve taken the proof into the safe room with her.”

Kun immediately shot it down, “No.”

“Wong?” Ten focused on the other Marine. “You might’ve had a better… perspective than the captain. You see anything in there?”

“I don’t remember seeing anything, no,” he shook his head. “But it can’t hurt looking a second time. We’re going to have to search the entire place anyway, right, Captain?”

“Yeah, top to bottom,” Kun confirmed shortly. “Again.”

“Yippee…” Ten grumbled.

“But I want that entire document translated first, and for us to finish going through all of the files,” he added sternly. “We need to know everything we can about what we’ll even be looking for before we searching.”

“ZEN and I will get right on it,” the Professor nodded.

“And the rest of us are just going to… watch him read?” Kunhang asked.

Kun took his helmet off and set it down on a nearby counter. “Afternoon off. Congrats, don’t kill yourselves.”

The others started celebrating, Kunhang, Ten, and Yangyang already launching into discussions of what they’d do with the free time as they headed towards the exit. They stopped at the door as they seemed to notice that you, Kun, and Dejun hadn’t moved.

“Hey, you guys coming?” Kunhang called out. “I don’t think the Professor needs you three watching over his shoulder.”

“I figured I’d stay, in case he needed any help,” you admitted.

“No,” Kun shook his head. “You’re going to rest. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

“I won’t be the one translating, just in case he hits a snag with a glyph or something,” you argued.

“He’s got ZEN. Two of him, technically. If he really needs you, he’ll let those at the ag bubble know and you can come back.”

You let up with a huff. “Fine. Are you coming then, Kun? You haven’t reached for your helmet.”

“I will.”

“So you get to stay but I don’t?”

“Yes. Because Xiao hasn’t said I need to rest my injured brain.”

“But you—” You bit your tongue before you could bring up his enhancements. He raised his eyebrows almost in a challenge, and you simply narrowed your eyes at him. “I will come looking for you if you’re not back at the ag bubble in an hour.”

“I get a whole hour? How gracious.”

As you went to join the other guys by the door, you saw that Dejun was still in the same place. “Dejun, come on, not you too?”

“I’ll be there in less than an hour, swear it. Just need to talk to the captain about something,” your tentmate reassured you. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Stop worrying about them, Y/N,” Yangyang ushered you towards the door. “I told you, Xiao hates fun, and the captain’s a workaholic.”

“The river’s fine for swimming, right?” Kunhang questioned, pulling the door open.

“We’ve been drinking from it, I would hope so,” Ten snorted, following after him.

“No, I mean, there’s nothing living it, right?”

“If there was, don’t you think we would’ve had a smoked salmon dinner at this point?” Ten and Wong’s voices faded away as the door closed behind the four of them, leaving just the Professor, the two ZEN fragments, Xiao, and the captain.

“What do you need, Xiao?” The captain questioned, leaning against a countertop.

The Professor was utterly locked into his task at the moment, and Captain Qian was used to seeing the civvie in such a state. Practically impossible to disturb, even by his own normal bodily needs—sleep, food, hygiene, it would all go to the wayside if he was allowed. So really, it felt like it was just him and Xiao. And ZEN, of course, but the AI’s constant presence was an unspoken fact of their lives at this point, so ingrained that he accepted that there was pretty much no privacy from ZEN at the end of the day, only from the other humans aboard the mission. Which was interesting as to why Xiao had picked this moment to get such privacy.

“Your deal, with Y/N,” Xiao began frankly.

“What about it? I’m getting the injections, figured you’d be thrilled,” the captain replied with a tilted head.

“I’m trying to figure out what you actually get out of it, Captain,” the lieutenant wagged a finger at him. “Because Y/N gets to give you your injections, which was a concern of hers, not yours; she gets to leave the ag bubble; and you didn’t even make her promise not to catch knives with her bare hands anymore.”

“She does stuff like that without thinking, it would’ve been pointless to make her promise not to do it anymore.”

“Which makes her a liability, Captain.”

“She’s an asset,” Captain Qian retorted.

“Because she can read Outspacer? She’s already taught ZEN and the Professor,” Xiao gestured to the man still at the computer pointedly.

“They’re not fluent.”

“Barely. And anything they don’t know, they can bring back to her. Like you just suggested.”

After the Professor, Xiao was the team member that the captain had known for the longest, he could tell that the doctor was slowly circling his actual argument. “What is your point, Xiao?”

“Is she really more of an asset than a liability?”

“I can’t afford to have one of you on babysitting duty every day.”

“We can switch out. Morning and afternoon shifts.”

The captain arched an eyebrow curiously as he studied the other man. “I figured you would’ve been one of the last people to be doing this. I thought you liked Y/N.”

“I do, which is why I don’t want her to do something worse than cut her palm,” Xiao sighed.

“I don’t either, but she told me quite plainly that she won’t stop.”

Xiao looked like he was about to pull his hair out. “Captain, a civilian tells you in no uncertain terms that they will endanger themselves and your mission, and you strike a deal to continue letting them?”

“She’s not… It was a judgment call, Xiao,” he declared sharply.

“And I’m still thinking about what you get out of the deal…” The doctor was pacing now, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Whenever she gets hurt, she has to go to you?”

Captain Qian shifted in place, stretching out his neck and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the Captain, you’re all my responsibility—”

“Injured people are my responsibility. What do you get out of patching up a civvie every time she hurts herself?” Xiao scoffed.

“I need to know how often she’s—”

“You like her,” Xiao breathed out in realization, coming to a stop.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the only way for that stupid deal to make sense. You actually like her as a person instead of her just being some civvie that’s in the way of the mission. So she can leave the ag bubble, but you still want one of us with her for protection. And when she does stupid things—which you’re smiling about right now, you like that about her—” Xiao pointed to the faint smile on the captain’s face victoriously, “—you want to personally make sure she’s okay after.”

The captain had regained control of his features, staring at his teammate neutrally. “Are you done?”

“No denial?”

“I’m not going to engage with your baseless speculation,” Captain Qian replied, his voice sounding unnaturally tight. “So if that’s all, then you can go.”

“Didn’t really sound like a no to me.” The doctor was grinning now.

“That would imply that your theory was something worth denying. Which I’ve already established, it isn’t.”

“Oh my god, you’re an awful liar, Captain,” Xiao peered at him, delight on his own features. “At least about this, because I know you’re way better on missions.”

“Since you’ve forced my hand…” he sighed, Xiao leaning forward to listen eagerly. “You’re dismissed. Formally. Officially. Goodbye.”

Xiao chuckled as he hoisted his own helmet back up and onto his head, meandering towards the exit. “Alright, alright. See you in a few, Captain.”

And that just left him, the ZENs, and the Professor. The captain rubbed his face with exasperation, turning his focus back towards the computer screen. The utter silence that he had been hoping for was short-lived, however.

“So… Y/N, huh?” The Professor asked, and despite the fact that his back was still to him, Captain Qian could hear the grin in his voice.

“Aren’t you supposed to be translating?” He snapped.

“I can multi-task.”

“And be slower than if you didn’t. So focus.”

You were sat by the riverside, dangling your feet into the cool water as Ten, Kunhang, and Yangyang all swam around. Dejun had come back some time ago, alone, and was sitting next to you as he continued reading On the Ethics of Robotics. You were straining your ears as you listened for the sound of the door of the ag bubble to open, occasionally looking over your shoulder at it.

“He’ll be here, Y/N,” Dejun stated after the fourth time you had glanced at the door. He hadn’t looked up from the text, but apparently could read your mind.

“It’s been fifty-two minutes,” you replied derisively. “According to Yangyang, he’s a workaholic, and according to you, he’s a stubborn, bad patient. Excuse me for doubting that he’ll be eagerly participating in taking an afternoon off. Especially when some of his crew is still working.”

“That’s all true. But you forgot one crucial part.”

“And what is that?”

Dejun flipped a page. “He told you he would.”

“He said he’d be here, at some point in time. I’m the one who put the hour-limit on him, which he didn’t exactly agree to.”

“And yet, he didn’t tell you no, either.” Your companion said, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if he found something amusing. You doubted there was anything in that treatise that was exceptionally humorous. “He’ll be here, Y/N.”

“Can I ask what you needed to talk to him about?”

“You can ask. But that’s a different question than if I’ll answer.”

“I just… wanted to know if it’s about—” You looked at the other three, thoroughly engrossed with trying to splash and dunk each other in ways that were definitely unfair to poor Yangyang, who lacked anywhere near the same combat experience that Ten and Kunhang had. You leaned over to whisper to Dejun, “—the enhancements. If he’s okay.”

Dejun let out a chuckle, as if any of this were funny. “No, it wasn’t about that. He’s quite alright.”

You were able to relax a little with this confirmation. “Okay. Thank you.”

“How’s your hand, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I don’t even think about it,” you said, flexing your injured palm. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“Good. You should ask Captain Qian to change your bandage tonight.”

You looked at the doctor next to you with confusion. “Why…? But you’re… You were just ranting about how you’re the doctor here, not him.”

“Like you said, it’s just a cut. Don’t need an MD to change a bandage. Captain’s perfectly capable for something like that.”

“I suppose. But what’s with the change of heart of all of a sudden?”

“I have a feeling he’ll want to check on you personally, even if I were to change your bandage now. No point in changing it just for him to reapply a fresh one in a couple more hours anyway.”

It was then that you heard the front door to the ag bubble open, and you snapped your head around to look. You immediately recognized Kun by his gait, before he even took his helmet off.

“Fifty-four minutes…” You muttered to yourself.

“Told you,” Dejun said in a sing-song voice.

You continued watching as Kun disappeared into his tent, zipping it shut behind him. After a couple minutes, he reemerged, out of his armor and in his usual casual clothes. Instead of joining you and the others by the riverside, you frowned as you watched him take off on the trails between the crops, in the opposite direction from you all.

With a frown, you scrambled to your feet, giving the doctor a distracted goodbye as you went off after Kun. It didn’t take you very long to catch up to him as you cut through the grass as you made a beeline towards him.

“Hey,” you called out when you got close enough to him.

“Hey,” he replied over his shoulder, not slowing down or stopping for you.

“What are you doing?”

“Going on a walk.”

“Can I— Can I walk with you?”

He abruptly stopped and pivoted on his heel, turning to you curiously. You skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Why do you want to?” He questioned.

“So you don’t have to answer that question, but I do?”

“Just curious.” He shrugged, then jerked his head in invitation before he started walking again. “I won’t make you answer. It would be a bit hypocritical of me.”

“So how’s it going? The translation?” You easily kept up with his much more meandering pace now.

“The Professor seemed to be enjoying himself.”

“Anything useful? About what the proof of concept is? Or otherwise?”

“Not that he said. But he’s not very talkative when he gets like that.”

“Oh, okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Kun spoke again, “I’m sorry about this morning. It was… I had no good reason to not answer your perfectly reasonable question. I was just caught off-guard. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive about it.”

“Well, thank you. For apologizing.”

“The truth is, I don’t know why I wanted to walk with you. It wasn’t any sort of suspicion, I just saw you going and wanted to go with you. Nothing more.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your feet, once again struggling to not let it immediately go to your head. “I can understand that. When I saw you start walking, I wanted to go too.”

He smiled in just the slightest. “And here we are.”

“Would you mind telling me more about Dura-Jil?” You asked hesitantly.

“Why are you so curious about Dura-Jil?”

“I suppose… I’m curious about you. And where you came from,” you admitted quietly. “And you talk about it so fondly, it’s nice to see you not stressing about what’s going on right now.”

“You know, this really isn’t fair,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “You can ask me all sorts of stuff, but you never have to tell me any embarrassing childhood stories.”

“I didn’t ask specifically for embarrassing ones!” You protested. “And I would tell you if I could remember!”

“That’s okay, I’ll supply the nostalgia for now.” Kun looked up ahead, eyes seemingly focused on one area in particular. “We had to get all of our food imported from Earth. We had no farms, no ag bubbles, nothing. That was the first thing smuggled in, really. Food. Specialty stuff, higher-quality stuff than what was usually imported. I still remember the first time I had a strawberry.”

It was then that you saw what he was looking at, a strawberry field that was growing closer and closer.

“I… don’t remember ever having a strawberry,” you stated. “How old were you? The first time you had a strawberry?”

“The actual fruit, nine or ten. I’m pretty sure we’d gotten our hands on strawberry jam before that, though.” He stopped at the edge of the field, the plants nearby all dotted with bright red fruit. “My mom tried growing her own plant from some of the seeds, but as soon as she had to move the seedling outdoors, the climate froze it dead.”

Kun deftly plucked a handful of strawberries off the plant, and offered the gleaming rubies out towards you. You accepted one, then he took one into his other hand by the leaves, bringing it up to his mouth. You followed his lead, taking a bite. The bright, tart, sweetness was a pleasant surprise, and you decided that you quite liked strawberries, too.

“Ooh, that’s good,” Kun commented, dropping the uneaten leaves back onto the soil. “My dad built my mom a greenhouse, a small one, in our backyard. Took a little figuring out, but she could finally garden.”

“That’s really sweet of him,” you said, taking another strawberry as it was offered to you.

“Yeah, whenever I think about what love is, I think about that.”

You bit into the strawberry, looking at him curiously as he took another handful of strawberries off the plant. “How often are you contemplating what love is?”

He once again held his hand out for you to pick from first, then grabbed one of his own. “Comes and goes. Not often, as of late.”

“Been focused on the mission?”

“Trying.”

At that cryptic answer, you decided to try another question, “Do your parents still live on Dura-Jil?”

Kun once again dropped his discarded leaves into the soil, this time nudging some dirt over them with the toe of his boot. “They’re dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You bit your lip, wanting to kick yourself.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“For that, yes. But I’m also just… sorry. For your loss.”

“Even if you don’t get your memories back, I’ll make sure we do everything we can to get you back to… whoever’s missing you. Your family, your friends,” he said strongly, clasping his hands behind his back.

You looked up ahead, at the far end of the strawberry patch. “What if… What if it turns out that I don’t have anyone? That nobody’s waiting for me?”

“There will be somebody,” Kun assured you. “People like you don’t disappear unnoticed.”

“People like me?” You echoed curiously.

He started down the trail again, and you followed. “I didn’t see your name, on the directory.”

“So you were looking too,” you sighed, accepting the change in topic. It was something that had been nagging at you as well.

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“I just want answers. Good or bad,” you groaned. “All we know is that I didn’t have a personal comms extension, and didn’t have a pager.”

“Xiao said they would’ve given every employee a pager,” he reminded you gently.

“All we have is a lack of evidence of me being an employee. That doesn’t equal proof that I was… something else.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think we’re ever going to find proof of anything.”

“That’s my fear as well.”

“With no intent to stress your brain… Nothing feels any more familiar than the first day?”

“No. I mean, there’s the stuff I remember from, you know, the past few days. But nothing feels even vaguely familiar. No déjà vu, nothing.” You inhaled deeply. “I either know something or I don’t. There’s no grey area.”

“That must be terrifying.”

“I was shook up that first day, yeah. But right now I’m less concerned with the past and more with the future. You know, what I’m going to do from here.”

“I told you, we’ll help you.”

“I know, you said the UHN has programs—”

“No, we’ll help you, Y/N. We’re not going to just to abandon you as soon as we get back to Earth. Not until we know you’re good.”

“Thanks, Kun.” You offered him a genuine smile. “I… I guess I’m just worried about what to do. Who I want to be. I don’t really know if you guys can help much with that. I think that part’s on me.”

“Do you think you know everything about me and the kind of person I am?”

“Uhm, no?”

“You’ve only known yourself for as long as you’ve known me. You can’t expect to know exactly who you are yet. Or anytime soon.”

“Thank you.” You watched as Kun rolled out one of his shoulders uncomfortably, clearly trying to readjust something in his back. You furrowed your brows with concern; it seemed as though the injection from last night was starting to wear off. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” he replied briskly, face relaxing again. But you knew it was practiced, rehearsed—a cover.

“Kun.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you’d be kinder to yourself,” you sighed. “Honestly, this tough guy thing you think you have to do, it’s just… pathetic.”

He slowed your walk to a stop, eyes widened minutely as he blinked at you. “You really think I’m pathetic?”

“A soldier who won’t ask for help when they need it isn’t brave, they’re reckless and stupid,” you said frankly. “And yes, I think this entire charade you do when you’re hurting is pathetic. Pain has never made anyone stronger, healing it does. I don’t know if you think it’ll make you look weak to your crew, or that you don’t deserve to feel better, or if it’s something else—but you don’t have to do all this around me.”

There was a stretch of silence as he took a steady inhale, and you met his gaze unwaveringly. Kun looked down at the ground, then back up at you. There was a slight wince on his face, and you were unsure if it was from pain, shame, or perhaps both. “Do you mind if we sat? My back…”

“Of course, Kun.” You nodded, letting him lead the way over to a grassy patch under a tree in a nearby orchard.

Kun let out a soft but noticeable, appreciative groan as he sat down. Looking up above you two, you spotted oranges among the green foliage along the branches.

“Do you know why there’s no clouds?” He questioned. “In the ag bubble? It’s a pocket dimension; I figure between the plants and the river, the water cycle should still be working.”

“Well there’s no Sun, so that’s a big piece of the water cycle missing,” you pointed out humorously. “Ag bubbles carefully regulate the atmosphere, including the water vapor. Since the fields self-water depending on the needs on the individual crops, it’d be a little inconvenient for it to also rain.”

“And it’s a perfect, mild spring day every day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It is.”

“I know the guys are glad to stretch their legs without getting shot at. The Vision is a bit cramped, and we’re only off it for missions.”

“Sounds like an eventful deployment so far.”

“Very.”

You looked over at Kun leaning back against the trunk, his eyes closed for a moment. A soft breeze kicked up a few strands of his dark brown hair. You didn’t think you’d even seen him so relaxed, and you found yourself strangely happy that he felt like he could rest like this around you, even if it was partially coerced.

“Why did you join the UHN?” You asked, unable to contain your curiosity about him as usual.

“Hm?” He made a questioning noise, raising his eyebrows without opening his eyes.

“Why did you leave Dura-Jil and join the UHN?”

“Wanted to help Earth and humanity. Stars in my eyes, you know?”

You tilted your head curiously. “People from the colonies aren’t exceptionally fond of Earth. Especially those who had never even been there, and especially ones from Dura-Jil. Why would you want to fight for a planet you had never seen?”

He chuckled, and you got the distinct feeling that you weren’t in on the joke. “I—” He cut himself off, eyes opening as he sat up straight, gaze landing sharply on a spot in the distance as he seemed to be listening for something you couldn’t hear. “Okay. Yeah, got it, Professor. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Is everything okay?” You questioned, watching as Kun went to stand.

“The Professor and ZEN have hit a snag in the translation. It’s too much to bring back on the tablet, so come on, we’re heading back out.”

You stood as well, but didn’t follow him as he turned to go. He stopped and turned back to look at you, but whatever question he was about to ask you got cut short as he twisted in such a way that made him wince.

“You should rest, Kun.” You crossed your arms. “One of the others can go with me.”

He took a deep breath, then nodded. “See if Xiao can go. The others were swimming, it’ll take them longer to get back into their armor.”

“Got it. You go rest. I’ll bring you mess along with the med-pods tonight.”

“I can’t be lazing in my tent all day and have food delivered to me,” he snorted. “The crew will think I’m on my deathbed.”

“You could tell them what’s going on. Would that be the heat death of the Universe?”

“No, but—”

“If one of your crew was injured, would you want them to be doing what you’re doing right now? Leaving you in the dark? Refusing rest and treatment?” You asked steadily. “Or would you call them an idiot and send them to their tent?”

“You’ve called me pathetic and an idiot in less than ten minutes, you know?”

“I’ll call you a pathetic idiot if that’ll convince you to go lay down.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, hard. When he’d caught his breath, he held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll go rest for a bit.”

The two of you finally started walking back towards the camp, soon coming upon the others still hanging out by the water. Kun lifted a hand in farewell to you and casual greeting to his crew as he kept walking, and you watched him until he eventually disappeared into his tent.

“Y/N!” Kunhang called from the water.

“Yeah?” You replied, not bothering to sit or get comfortable.

“What was so funny?” He paddled closer to the edge you were standing at. “We’ve never heard the captain laugh like that.”

“Oh, uh, I called him a pathetic idiot,” you said with a shrug.

Everyone’s heads whipped around to look at you. Ten then turned a mischievous grin on Yangyang. “You’ve got to try that.”

“My parents paid good money for braces for me as a kid, I’m not going to disrespect their investment,” Yangyang retorted.

As the three in the water began bickering and teasing and taunting each other again, you turned your focus down to the doctor still on the shore. “Professor and ZEN need some help. You mind going with me, Dejun?”

“Sure.” Dejun snapped his book shut. “Give me a second to put my armor back on. Then you can tell me how you got away with insulting the captain to his face.”

That night, everyone was back at camp. The Professor was still messing around with a few series of glyphs on his tablet that he wanted to try on his own before letting you reveal the translation to him. The document on scrubbing was fully translated, and the ZEN fragment in the facility computer would continue going through the remaining files through the night. The scrubbing procedures didn’t really have any extra clues about the proof of concept that you could decipher, but it was worth a shot.

As the Professor tried out the glyphs, Yangyang and Dejun seemed to be discussing the book that the doctor had been borrowing from the younger man, as Dejun held it in his hand and they had a rather impassioned conversation in one corner of camp. You, Ten, and Kunhang were cooking dinner. And by that, you mean Ten and Kunhang were cooking dinner and you were watching them, as they had officially banned you from being near sharp objects while your hand healed. And you noticed that Ten was the one cutting ingredients tonight, not Kunhang.

“So why is there no meat here?” Kunhang asked you. “Ag bubbles can keep livestock too. Why not here?”

“I… don’t know,” you confessed. “I mean, technically ag bubbles don’t need to have livestock, since the crops can be modified to meet all nutritional requirements without the need for meat. Preference?”

“You think the Research Director was a vegan or something?”

Ten snorted incredulously as soon as the words were out of his teammate’s mouth. “Anybody who can do… whatever the hell what happening here also being a vegan would be painfully ironic.”

You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you remembered the conversation you’d overheard just yesterday morning. Impulsively, you looked down at your own hands, as if expecting to see them literally covered in blood, any sort of evidence of the sins they think you might have committed. You must have committed.

“How’s your hand?” Ten asked, clearly having seen the motion.

“It’s fine,” you brushed it off, putting both your appendages down and looking back up at the two Marines. “Do you guys think I worked here?”

Kunhang at least seemed a bit taken aback by the question, looking at Ten awkwardly for some kind of cue, as his buddy raised an eyebrow at you curiously.

“Do you think you worked here?”

“I-I don’t know. Nothing’s familiar.”

“We don’t have any proof you did anything, Y/N,” Ten said plainly. “All we know is that you were here when we got here. You’re not wearing a lab coat, you don’t have a neural port, you apparently didn’t have a pager.”

Kunhang picked up from Ten’s implicit conclusion, “You’ve been pretty cool since we found you. I think if you did work here, you’d be a lot more stuck up. Never met a UHN scientist without a bit of an ego.”

“And by ego, you mean God complex.”

“That too.”

You smiled faintly at their assessment. “Thanks. I don’t know how much of this is me or the amnesia, but…”

“It’s you now,” Ten shrugged.

“Soup’s on!” Kunhang suddenly announced to the entire camp.

As servings started being passed out to everyone who had swarmed the station, you accepted one as it was handed to you, then there was one dish left. The others looked around with confusion, realizing exactly who was missing as all their gazes turned in the direction of Kun’s tent.

“Is the captain… napping?” Kunhang hazarded a guess.

“No way that man takes naps,” Yangyang shook his head furiously. “Maybe he didn’t hear you? ZEN? Did you accidentally isolate his comms?” And almost immediately, followed it up with, “Oh my god, of course, my bad, I’m sorry. You would never make a mistake like that, you’re in Kunhang’s neural port, you know exactly who he wants to be talking to.”

“Is he okay?” The Professor asked aloud as well, presumably to ZEN, the only one of you who would have real-time information on that sort of thing. “Oh. Well should we… go get him?”

You picked up the extra bowl. “I’ve got it.”

Without another word, you headed off towards Kun’s tent. The front flap was down, but unzipped, and you stopped just outside to call out to him.

“Kun? Can I come in?” You requested.

“Yeah.” Came his short reply.

You ducked your head as you stepped in, careful to shield the food from the tarp as you entered. You had already grabbed the disinfecting wipe two med-pods from Dejun before starting the food prep with Ten and Kunhang, so you wouldn’t need to duck back out for those. Kun was laying on his back on his cot, which you were honestly surprised about. He started slowly sitting up as you approached, and once he seemed settled, you handed his food to him, then pulled up your usual container seat.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Did you actually stay in here the whole time?” You inquired, picking up your first bite on your utensil. “While I was gone?”

“I felt like I was going crazy, but yes.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You should borrow Yangyang’s book next. Dejun seems to be enjoying it.”

“His robotics textbook?” Kun clarified doubtfully.

“It’s on roboethics. And what else are you going to do?”

“Good point.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But hopefully, I won’t have civvie-mandated bed rest again and need entertainment.”

“Depends on how you do with two med-pods, and how soon you get tuned up.” You pointed your utensil at him accusatorily. “You should rest while you can. You’ll be useless to your crew if you’re in even worse shape somewhere more dangerous than here.”

“Noted. So you, ZEN, and the Professor are almost done with the scrubbing protocol?”

“Technically, we’re done. But it was so close to mess that the Professor asked if I could let him try some of the last sections by himself tonight before giving him the real translation in the morning.”

“Anything useful for searching for the proof of concept?”

“Not that I could tell,” you sighed. “It just kept talking about preserving it, nothing about if that was in a physical location, or digital. And Yangyang said that a proof of concept could be proving any tiny facet of the final product, so we have no clue what this thing could be. Could be a single circuit for all we know.”

“It’d be something groundbreaking. Something worth risking a security breach.”

“And what does groundbreaking look like, exactly?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, huh?”

“Mm-hm.” You had finished your food, and set it aside as Kun had a couple more bites left of his. “I think the organic material that Dejun found will be interesting, once he can analyze it on the Vision.”

“If there’s enough,” Kun added, also putting his empty plate down.

You started reaching into your pockets for your supplies, “Lie down.”

He reached for your bandaged hand. “Let me see your hand.”

You held it away from him. “Your injections—”

“I’m not avoiding,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you, then you can take care of me, okay?”

After a beat, you relented. “Alright.”

Kun began unwrapping the bandages as precisely as he had wound them in the first place, slowly revealing the gauze underneath. He left that as he reached over to grab his canteen, preparing to rinse the cut again. As he peeled the gauze off, you saw his eyes widen as you felt your own take it in as well. The gauze itself was stained with dark red blood, but your skin was fully mended, no open wound, no scabbing, not even a scar.

“What the fuck?” He breathed out, pure bewilderment in his tone.

You weren’t sure what to say, well aware that wasn’t supposed to happen. “Uh—”

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructed, and you did so. “Does that hurt?”

“No.” It felt normal, no pain, no residual issues from having a knife go into the skin and muscle.

“Make a fist.”

You curled your fingers into a loose fist, then a tighter one when you realized it didn’t hurt.

“That hurt?” Kun asked again.

“No.”

He took your hand, pressing one of his thumbs into your previously-injured palm, hard. “That?”

“Nothing. It… It feels fine.”

He let you go, still looking down at your hand that you were hovering in between the two of you, unsure. “Maybe you’re part-Phaser?”

“My eyes aren’t silver, are they?” You moved your gaze up to his questioningly. “I feel like you guys would’ve mentioned that…”

“No, they’re not.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s like… your great-grandma was a Phaser or something.”

“…I don’t know.”

“I’m going to wrap this up again,” Kun declared, grabbing a fresh piece of gauze and bandage.

“Why?”

His brow was set, face serious and tone level as he addressed you, “This is between us, do you understand?”

“I… Okay.” You nodded, swallowing down all your questions, most of which Kun couldn’t even answer. “Thank you.”

After Kun had finished bandaging up your perfectly fine palm, he dutifully laid back down, this time on his front, for you to administer the first of the med-pods. As you disinfected the injection site, you once again felt a strange sense of urgency to talk to him as much as you could, ask him as many questions as possible while you had this uninterrupted, strangely personal-feeling time with him.

“Do you like me?”

Kun immediately shot up to his elbows, and you could see the muscles in his back tense with the movement then stay tensed. “ZEN, stop eavesdropping.” A moment later, he looked upwards as he rolled his eyes at nothing. “Yeah, I know you’re in my neural port, don’t make me take you out of there. I said blackout my mic, including to you.”

You looked at him with mild alarm. You’d never been entirely alone with any crew member of the Vision, you knew that ZEN was always there, and knowing that it now really was just you and Kun only added to the odd feeling of intimacy you had about the situation.

He now turned his focus to you, looking at you over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Like, as a person?” You tacked on some clarification. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am, and the others have said stuff like that—”

“Like what, exactly?”

“That they like having me around, or consider me a friend of some sort. I don’t know, I’m trying to figure out if I’m likeable.”

“Word of advice, Y/N.” He settled back down. “Don’t try to define yourself by how other people think of you. It’s never going to end well.”

“I’ll… take that under advisement, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You positioned the first med pod.

“Does it matter?”

“Not for that, no.”

“For something else?”

You clicked the button, beginning the first injection. “Your refusal to answer is rather frustrating.”

“Your insistence that I answer is fascinating.”

“I’m getting a strange sense of déjà vu right now…” You snorted, thinking about your pointless little argument over him wanting to walk with you.

“You questioned my motives for wanting to walk with you, I’m questioning yours for asking me that question. Is that unfair?”

“I only know six people. Seven including ZEN,” you pointed out frankly. “So excuse me for maybe being a little nervous about whether or not those six people dislike me.”

He paused for too long to be comfortable before answering. “No, I don’t dislike you.”

“Not an affirmative.”

“Y/N, you’re afraid that I’m being polite? That I’ve just been tolerating you this whole time?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Do I seem like a man who would waste so much of my time on niceties?”

“Well… no.”

“There you go. Seven out of seven, congrats,” he said dryly.

“ZEN likes me?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you took the now-empty med pod off his back and grabbed the next one.

“He can’t hear us right now, but if he could, he’d agree with me.”

“Thanks, Kun.”

“I don’t know what that says for your general likeability that all of us like you, though.”

“That’s alright. You’re the only seven people I know.”

The next morning, everyone split up to look for the proof of concept. Just as you’d thought, the rest of the manual had given no more clues to its whereabouts, form, or purpose, and ZEN hadn’t found any new information in the computer to assist you either.

You were with Kun and Ten in the employee quarters, searching every nook and cranny you could for anything that seemed to be of importance. Either a fair amount of stuff had already been removed, or the employees didn’t have very many personal belongings to begin with. Often, you could only tell if someone had been living in a room if something was slightly askew, a bedsheet out of place, desk chair not pushed in all the way, lamp light left on. There was no personal memorabilia like pictures or knickknacks in any of the rooms you searched through, and you wondered to yourself if they had no family to bring a picture of, or if they couldn’t for some reason. The barren, muted grey walls were discouraging, but you still kept a secondary search going in the back of your mind, waiting to see if anything would spark some familiarity. If you could find your own quarters, maybe.

As you looked under someone’s bed, Kun went through the small dresser, and Ten rummaged around in their desk. The staff sergeant let out an incredulous noise, making you look over at him as he held up a small paperback book for you and Kun to see.

“Frankenstein,” he announced. “Bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Do you not like robots, Ten?” You asked curiously as he tossed the book onto the desk and went back to searching.

“Robots are fine, AI is fine. I don’t like the idea of people-robots,” he clarified. “I like all of those things—robots, AI, humans—to be very distinct from each other. Instead of worrying about turning into Victor Frankenstein, I think humanity should be worrying about turning into Icarus.”

“Icarus?”

“Old myth from an ancient Earth civilization. Icarus was a human who had wax wings built for him. He flew too close to the Sun, they melted, and he fell into the sea and died. It’s a lesson about hubris.”

“Unless they hollowed out the book to hide something in there, I don’t really care,” Kun interrupted sternly.

“No, I’ve got nothing,” Ten responded.

“Me too,” you sighed, standing back up.

“Next room, then,” Kun declared with little fanfare.

At camp that afternoon, the three teams had comparable results: Nothing. No proof of concept, or anything more interesting than the random book Ten had found.

The Professor, Yangyang, and ZEN were finishing up the secondary task you all had for today, marking off the dead employees from the comms directory, and the rest of you started on your evening chores.

“Done!” The Professor announced, drawing in the rest of the crew to gather around. “And uh, Y/N isn’t the only survivor.”

Nervous murmurs erupted around you, and you started at the Professor with wide eyes.

“W-Who?” You stammered out, your mind racing immediately.

“The Research Director, Dr. Yoon. He’s not here. Everyone else on the directory is accounted for, and we have no unidentified humans.”

“What do we know about him?” Ten addressed the group as a whole.

“Not much,” Yangyang spoke up. “Civilian only on technicality. He’s worked for the UHN for the past 40 years as a researcher. Everything else on him is classified since ZEN’s fragment has a lower clearance by default.”

“If he was here, then whatever he was doing was much worse than the rumors,” Kun interjected coarsely, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know this guy?” The roboticist asked him, clearly surprised.

“Heard of him. At the UHN from other officers. I thought he was… retired. I suppose a guy like that couldn’t ever retire, though.”

“UHN probably told everyone he retired so they could send him out here for this super secret, super illegal experiment,” Ten suggested.

“Yeah, probably,” Kun agreed, his voice still short as his face didn’t lose the troubled look that had overtaken it since the Professor stood up.

“Don’t feel too bad, Captain, you probably weren’t even a Lieutenant back then, and it would’ve been need to know. Way above your head at the time,” Kunhang said, going to pat him on the shoulder, but one hard gaze from the captain stopped his hand in midair.

“We’re done here,” Kun declared, stepping back from the group.

“Alright, cool, before we break, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Kunhang questioned.

“I mean we’re done here. On Aegeum. We’ve gotten everything we need. Be ready to leave the surface after mess tomorrow morning,” he turned away sharply.

Ten called after him, “Wait, Cap—”

“Dismissed.” Kun tossed back over his shoulder, taking off from camp with a fast stride.

“And he’s gone.” Ten sighed, then looked around at all of you, who were equally dumbfounded. “What the hell?”

You were still watching after Kun’s quickly retreating figure as the others erupted into uncertain chatter. Some were still discussing the other survivor, while others were elatedly discussing finally getting off of Aegeum and where they’d go next.

“Sorry, excuse me, guys,” you excused yourself hastily, rushing off in the direction you saw Kun go.

You found him by the river, on a rockier patch of shoreline. He threw a rock at an angle towards the water, the stone immediately breaking the surface and sinking. The captain silently picked up another, casting it harshly into the river.

You stopped a fair distance away as you hesitantly called out, “Kun?”

“Yes?” He didn’t look back at you, just picked up another rock.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Another throw, plop, and sink. “You can stay.”

“Thanks.” You approached, keeping some space between you. “Who is Dr. Yoon, really?”

He turned over the rock in his hand before sharply throwing it at the water, creating a spray around it as it violently broke the surface on its way under. “He was the head of the program I was put in, at the UHN.”

“With the skeletal enhancements.”

“I thought he was dead. He was supposed to be dead.”

“How… did he supposedly die?”

“Skipper raid on the facility he was working at. Entire building was destroyed. No survivors.” He stated, though his voice was hard. “Or so I thought. I should’ve known the Devil wouldn’t have gone like that.”

“But somehow he ended up here.”

“Yeah…” He replied bitterly. Grabbing another stone, he motioned you closer. “Come here.”

“Huh?” You stayed in place as you tried to comprehend the sudden shift in conversation.

“I’m going to teach you how to skip a rock.”

“No offense, but you haven’t actually skipped a single rock while we’ve been standing here.”

“Trust me.”

“How do you know I don’t already know how to skip a rock?”

“How do you know that you do?” He replied with an eyebrow arched.

“…Alright, teach me how to skip rocks,” you relented, stepping towards him.

Kun stood behind you as you took the rock in your own hand.

“Okay, so first, you want to hold it like this.” He used both of his hands to readjust the positioning of your hand and fingers on the stone. “And you’ve got to stand like this.” He made some minute corrections to the alignment of your shoulders, hips, and arm holding the rock. Then, his hand was wrapping around the back of yours that held the rock, gently guiding it through a demonstration of the throw arc. “And you want to kind of swing, flick, release it out there, and follow through.”

“And are all of your rock skipping lessons this… interactive?” You questioned, turning your head towards the side where he was looking over your shoulder.

“Are you going to do it?” He asked, returning your slight teasing tone.

You wound your arm back, then did just as he’d shown you, swing, flick, release, and follow through. The rock skipped across the surface three times before sinking.

“Huh. You’re a pretty good teacher, Kun.”

“And here you were just questioning my methods.”

“Not their efficacy, just how often you implement them.” You looked back at him again, where he hadn’t moved from his instructional position. You hadn’t been close to the captain like this before, but you didn’t really mind.

“You’re a special case,” he murmured, meeting your gaze steadily. You found yourself holding your breath, watching as his eyes flicked down, then he suddenly stepped back.

Your back felt oddly cool as you turned to face him. Scrambling for another topic, you found yourself thinking about what else he had said at the very short status meeting. “So tomorrow we leave.”

“I want you to stay with us,” he said, taking you by surprise. “We don’t know enough about what was going on here, and with Dr. Yoon in the wind… We can’t—I can’t just leave you on Earth alone.”

“We’ve never known what was going on here, and you had never mentioned not taking me to UHN Main,” you pointed out calmly. “It’s Dr. Yoon, isn’t it?”

“The program I was in wasn’t just some skeletal enhancements and nice armor,” he admitted, sitting in the neighboring grass just a couple steps away.

“What else…?” You followed, sitting down next to him.

“I left Dura-Jil when I was fifteen, for the program.”

“You can’t enlist until you’re eighteen.”

“Didn’t enlist, I was selected, along with a bunch of others.” He said the word ‘selected’ with a hint of irony. “I was one of the oldest. We were supposed to save humanity, after some training, and a few… modifications. My age was probably why my body had a harder time acclimating to the modifications. I could only take the first round of skeletal enhancements, brainstem neural port, and cardiopulmonary augmentation.” He turned his head and parted some of his hair, letting you see the small port at the base of his skull. “Neural ports aren’t unheard of at the UHN—Wong and Ten have them, but theirs are situated higher up, since implantation in the brainstem is much riskier. But we had a special purpose, and they needed access to the brainstem for ours. It was the second round of skeletal enhancements that almost crippled me.”

“Almost?” You echoed, thinking of how well he seemed, aside from the degradation of his skeletal enhancements.

“Most of us who didn’t make it through either died or were beyond repair. Admiral Lee picked me back up, put me back together, and let me enroll in the Academy to join as an officer.”

“As in… Admiral Lee, the head of Intelligence?”

“Yes. Though, back then, he was only Vice Admiral.”

“Learning that not everyone wants the same kind of life… Were you talking about the life that the program had prescribed for you? Or the one that Admiral Lee gave you?”

“All of it, I think,” he let out a cynical chuckle.

“And what kind of life do you want now? For yourself?”

“Y/N…” He turned his focus from where it had been on the river to you. “I didn’t tell you all of that as a heart-on-my-sleeve, vulnerable moment. You deserve to know that I’m not entirely human.”

“Is that really how you feel? Inhuman?”

He sighed, looking down at himself. “There are parts of me that are… manufactured. Irrevocably altered. I don’t think I remember how it felt before I was like this.”

“So what do you think you are, then? If not human?” You asked curiously.

“I think Liu would classify me as a cyborg?”

“I didn’t ask what Yangyang would classify you as. I asked what you think you are.”

“I’m… something else,” he determined, voice hollow.

“Kun…”

“Hm?” He gazed over at you.

“Thank you for telling me. I do care, about all of that. Because it’s you, it’s about you, part of who you are, whether you think that’s for better or for worse. But that doesn’t make you any less in my eyes,” you said sincerely.

“Any less human?”

“Any less… you. Don’t you get it? That’s what I care about, not your alleged humanity, or lack thereof.”

“When Admiral Lee told me Dr. Yoon was dead, I celebrated,” he said with a cold kind of humor.

“I think that’s warranted.”

“Not because a bad man who had done bad things to me and other kids was dead. But because—because finally, the part of me that still wanted to make him proud had died with him.”

“Kun… I’m going to tell you something that I think you already know. Just because he played a part in how your body physically developed, does not mean that he made you the man that you are now. You are not his creation, or even Admiral Lee’s. You are your own person, whole and complete. A sum of all the parts, everything you’ve been through, and everything you’ve learned. But you. Not anybody else.” You placed a hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You do not owe that man anything.”

He looked down at your hand. “I don’t think I ever want you to remember…”

“What?”

“Knowing that he might’ve… to you. I think it might be better for you to never remember.” Kun slowly put his hand over yours.

“Oh…”

“What are we doing, Y/N?”

You looked around uncertainly. “Uh… sitting?”

“Why are you sitting with me right now? Instead of starting mess with everyone else back at camp?”

“Because I’d rather be here than there. Is that hard to believe?”

“No. I just…” He breathed out, looking down at your connected hands. “I can’t promise you any sort of normal life. Or anything, really. Other than me.”

“I wouldn’t really know what a normal life is. I have a feeling that I wasn’t exactly living one before this, either,” you pointed out. “That’s all I can offer, too. Myself.”

“That’s more than enough.”

“And so are you.” You reassured him. “So? Will you let us…?”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Sure, yes.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, scooting closer to him.

“There will be no way to keep this from the others,” he cautioned.

“Just how many warnings are you going to try to scare me off with before you realize I don’t care?”

“I was stating a fact.”

“It was the way you said it, how you looked at me. Like you expected me to leave,” you frowned.

“It should’ve at least given you pause. All of this should’ve,” he shook his head, carefully taking his arm back to loop it around your shoulders.

“And yet it didn’t.”

The two of you were quiet for another moment, then you heard Kun scoff under his breath.

“Yeah, ZEN?” He addressed the AI tersely. “Fine, you can patch him through... What do you need, Wong? Yeah, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Soup’s on?” You guessed.

“Yeah…” He sighed, not making a move to leave yet.

“Do you… want to go?”

“In a minute.”

By the time you got back to camp, the others were already sat around the campfire with their dishes, though it looked like they hadn’t started eating yet.

“There you are!” The Professor waved to the two of you as soon as he saw you. “Thought we were going to have to send a search party or something.”

“We had to walk all the way back here,” Kun said plainly, grabbing both of the extra dishes from the food prep station and handing you one. “You all could have started without us.”

“ZEN said you were only—” Yangyang got cut off by Ten elbowing him in the side. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Thanks for waiting,” you opted not to address whatever that was, sitting down in the single large gap left between Dejun and the Professor, in the spot closer to your tentmate.

“So what’s the next destination, then, Captain?” Ten inquired. “Dropping Y/N off at UHN Main for debriefing?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Kunhang shook his head. “It’s weird, I got so used to you being here, Y/N. Kind of forgot you weren’t actually one of us.”

“Yeah, we’ll miss you,” Dejun patted your shoulder, then focused a pointed stare on the youngest crew member. “And I’ll miss you extra when Liu sleeptalks.”

“Thanks, guys,” you gave them all an appreciative smile before looking at Kun out of the corner of your eye uncertainly.

Kun cleared his throat. “However, Y/N will be staying with us for the foreseeable future, due—”

“Seriously?!” Yangyang interrupted incredulously. “I got chewed out for like two hours for even suggesting—”

“Because at the time, it was the reckless and stupid option,” Kun cut him off strictly. “But, if you had let me finish what I was saying, Lieutenant, I would’ve been able to explain that I now believe it’s the safer option for her. We don’t know the whereabouts of the other survivor, and there’s a very good chance that he has the proof with him—whatever it is. There’s too many uncertainties for us to leave Y/N on Earth alone.”

“You think this Dr. Yoon is a danger to Y/N?” The Professor questioned.

“More of a danger than being around us?” Dejun added.

“Yes,” the captain replied very seriously. “We’re a self-contained vessel; our courses aren’t plotted externally ahead of time, our missions aren’t documented in a centralized record after the fact, and we’re undetectable in flight as well. Nobody will know about her unless we want them to.”

Ten nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Hell yeah!” Kunhang grinned and held a hand up towards you. “Welcome aboard.”

You accepted his high-five with a laugh. “Thanks, Kunhang.”

“So back to my question, then,” Ten cocked his head. “Where to next?”

“UHN Main,” Kun answered. “I need to provide the Admiral with an update, in person. We also need to resupply, and you all are due for some shore leave.”

They all erupted into cheers, and you found yourself smiling down at your food, too. UHN Main, where Kun could get his much-needed readjustment.

The rest of dinner was an amiable, jovial affair as the crew spitballed ideas for their shore leave. After the food was finished, everyone pitched in with cleaning up and packing away the materials that wouldn’t be needed again. You were leaving tomorrow.

“Y/N,” Dejun called for you when pretty much everything was done, but the others were still milling about, talking to each other excitedly. “Let me take a look at your hand in the tent.”

“Oh, uhm—” You gave in to his insistent tug on your elbow, despite your brain frantically trying to think of a reason why he couldn’t inspect your perfectly healed palm.

In your tent, Dejun started rooting through one of his med packs as you were still stumbling through the beginning of an excuse.

“Dejun, you don’t need to—”

“I know,” he said simply, standing back up and handing you a disinfectant wipe and two med-pods. “Captain’s got you. Right?”

“…Right.” You accepted the supplies. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“With what?”

“Staying with us. You know, not getting a normal life yet. I know you can’t remember, or maybe don’t know what that’s like, but… I don’t want you to think you have to do this. The UHN can give you a new identity, hide you in other ways.”

You paused, looking at him curiously. “Why did you join the UHN, Dejun?”

“After med school, I did my residency at a rehab clinic for veterans. Thought I could make more of a difference if I got to them earlier.” He fidgeted with the holster around his thigh.

“I’m okay with this,” you assured him. “Whatever kind of life I had before, normal or not… I can never go back to it. Even if I remember, it’ll never be the same. And after the war—who does have a normal life anymore? Or gets to say what that is?”

“Alright.” Dejun patted your shoulder. “I’m happy to have you aboard, don’t get me wrong. Not trying to get rid of you or anything. Just want to make sure you know your options.”

“Thanks, Dejun.” You gave him a smile before ducking out of the tent.

You couldn’t see the others around the campfire anymore, but you swore you heard voices and what sounded like splashing in the direction of the river. One last late-night swim, it seemed.

“Kun?” You waited outside his tent.

“Come in!” He beckoned you in just a moment later.

Kun was sitting on his cot, a thin paperback book in his hands.

“Is that the book Ten found earlier?” You asked, moving over the container you usually sat on.

“Yeah.” He held it up so you could see the cover. Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley.

“I didn’t realize you’d grabbed it.”

“ZEN could probably pull it up for me, back on the Vision. But my eyes hurt looking at those screens for too long, you know?” He put in a bookmark, a folded-up piece of graph paper, before setting the book aside.

He laid down without prompting, reaching around to adjust his shirt for you. You ripped open the antiseptic wipe first.

“So why now?” You asked, disinfecting the injection site. “Why do you want to leave Aegeum now? There were lots of other times you could’ve called the mission over.”

“I need to report Dr. Yoon being alive to Admiral Lee as soon as possible.”

“Do you think that Admiral Lee knew he was alive?” You took out the first med-pod.

“No, Admiral Lee hates him as much as I do,” Kun said, staring ahead of him. “And the Admiral has never lied to me. When he can’t tell me something, he lets me know.”

“Do you think you’ll be going after him? Dr. Yoon?”

Click.

“I’ll need further directions from the Admiral.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If we don’t have any leads, he’ll probably just have us focus on our original mission.”

“And what is the mission?”

“Well…”

“I’m part of the crew now, kind of. Indefinitely. Shouldn’t I get to know what your mission that you’re on actually is?”

“No, you’re right. I’m trying to find the best starting place,” he mused. “So, the Intergalactic War ended almost a year ago.”

“Yes, I did know that,” you informed him, carefully picking through your memory. “It was the United Human Intercosmic Territories against Ourogos, the K’llor, and some factions of A-Jregth.”

You used the proper name for the A-Jregth, as opposed to the common, less-than-flattering human nickname for them—Dumbo, for their large ears that reminded the first UHN soldiers to make contact with them of elephants. In that moment, you couldn’t recall the original connection between the name and the Earth animal, but that could wait.

“Well, UHIT is much less united now; we’ve got a lot on our plate trying to keep ourselves together. Especially with some planets of Phasers and other human-originated species talking about wanting independence from humans.”

“On the grounds that they’re not humans?” You guessed.

“Exactly. There’s rumors of talks of secession.” The med-pod clicked then, and he paused as you grabbed the next one. Once you had them swapped out, he continued, “The aliens’ alliance has completely dissolved, however. Before we came here, we were on Ourogos; it’s especially nasty there. They’re almost in a civil war, trapped between two zealots vying for power ever since their leader, Busr Gorkourontorous, was assassinated. The Fisheads and Dumbo went back to their own business, and the Skippers are doing what they’ve always done.”

“You don’t sound too troubled about any of that.”

“The more time they spend killing each other, the more time we have to figure our own shit out.”

Moving your gaze from the med-pod to his face, you asked, “When did the busr die?”

“Recently,” he replied knowingly.

“Did one of you…?”

“We didn’t pull the trigger,” Kun said. “But we supplied the gun. And the bullet.”

“Arms dealing. To both sides?”

“The more of them that are dead, the fewer there will be to come kill humans.” He finally looked back at you. “That’s our mission. Less dead humans.”

“Do you think you’re accomplishing that?” You held his eye contact, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knee and prop up your chin with one of your palms.

“That’s not my determination to make right now. Not yet.”

“You’re a self-contained vessel. That comes with quite a bit of leeway with decision-making, doesn’t it?”

“Day-to-day decisions, yes. Admiral Lee has put a lot of trust in me. But every one of my calls is supposed to be made with that objective in mind.”

The second med-pod finished, and you took it off him as well, setting it at your feet with the rest of the trash that you’d take with you to put in Dejun’s medical disposal container in your tent. For once, neither of you made a move to leave now that it was done.

“How did you end up on Aegeum?” You asked.

“Intelligence guy picked up chatter from some Skippers. He didn’t speak Skipper, but he could make out one word they kept saying over and over that sounded like human. You know Skipper, it sounds like a bunch of chipmunks chittering about, so the word ‘Aegeum’ kind of caught his attention. Relayed it back to Admiral Lee. He sent us out here.”

“Do you have the recording of the Skippers? The Professor or ZEN…?”

“UHN translators have been working on it since we’ve been down here. It might be done, I’ll have to check once we’re back on the Vision.”

“Kind of makes me think…” You mused aloud. “About what would’ve happened if you all hadn’t found me. If I would’ve ever gotten out of that shelter.”

“I know you don’t remember how you got in there, but… what do you think you would’ve done? If you’d left the shelter, you’d have been able to survive off the ag bubble indefinitely, at least.”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, messing with your fingers. “I-I didn’t know, or didn’t remember, what was going on outside of the shelter other than the smell, but I had this feeling that I shouldn’t leave it, and I shouldn’t be found, you know? But when I saw you and Kunhang, and I knew you were UHN—I knew that the UHN was safe, at least. So… I really don’t know if I would’ve ever left.”

You watched as he slowly started sitting back up, and he thankfully didn’t clutch his back, wince, or groan this time. The two med-pods seemed to be doing pretty well for him. But they were only a temporary fix.

“You’re going to get your tune-up at UHN Main, right?” You looked at him seriously. “You’ll give your report to Admiral Lee, the crew will go on shore leave, and you’ll get your adjustment?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he confirmed with a hint of a smile. “I’ll get my adjustment while we’re there.”

“Good.”

“But then what excuse will you have for coming into my quarters every night?”

You landed a soft kick against his ankle at his teasing words, making him snicker. “You say that as if the crew know why I’ve been doing it in the first place. Other than Dejun, they have no clue. Who knows what they’re thinking now.”

“That’s true.” He still had a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Speaking of… I have a spare bunk in my cabin on the Vision, you’re welcome to it. Or you can room with the Professor, if you’d like. I’m sure he’d enjoy the opportunity to ask you more about Outspacer.”

“Wait, if you both have spare bunks, then why is Dejun rooming with Yangyang, who talks in his sleep?” You cocked your head in bewilderment. “Why doesn’t he just stay with one of you so he isn’t disturbed by Yangyang’s sleeptalking?”

“Kid can’t sleep by himself. Apparently wasn’t a problem until he got onto a ship. We’ve offered for Xiao to move, but—” Kun shrugged.

“He’s a good teammate.” You then circled back to his original offer, bringing your hand up to tap your chin as if deep in thought. “I’ll have to think about it… Staying in the captain’s quarters, wouldn’t want anybody to get the wrong idea, you know?”

“Oh, of course not.”

“And I should probably be getting back to my tent,” you sighed melodramatically, slowly getting to your feet. “I’ve been in here for a suspicious amount of time already, don’t you think?”

“Hold on—ZEN? Where are the others?” Kun was still as he listened to ZEN’s response from within his neural port. “Great. Cut out your incoming audiovisual feed from me, but let me know when they start heading back, okay? Thanks.”

You tilted your head in a silent question.

“Everyone’s down at the river still,” he informed you, offering his hand out to you. “We have some time.”

“Mm… okay.” You placed your hand in his.

Kun scooted over to make some room beside him on the cot, and you accepted the invitation, sitting beside him instead of on the container like before.

“Are you ready? To leave?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. I don’t really have a lot of personal effects to pack up, so…” You shrugged. “Though, I was curious about getting from the facility to your ship. Is the atmosphere breathable?”

“It’s a bit thin. Unfortunately, we weren’t expecting to acquire anybody while we were down here, so we don’t have an extra suit for you on the dropship. Xiao has masks with limited oxygen supply, you should be okay with one of those for the short walk on the surface.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“But I wasn’t asking you if you were packed,” he continued, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand. “I mean, this is the only place you can remember. Are you ready to leave it?”

You nodded in determination. “I am. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t find the proof of concept or figure out why the Skippers were here, but I have no personal reservations about leaving. This isn’t my home.”

“Okay, good.”

“What are you going to say about me? In your report to the Admiral?”

“I’ll give him a brief update when we get back on the Vision tomorrow, before leaving. I’ll say we found a survivor, and we’re headed back to UHN Main so I can make a full report, but that’ll be it. I know you’ve only met his dumbed-down safety version, but ZEN’s a very good AI, he’ll keep the connection between the Admiral and I secure while I report.”

“This has been ZEN dumbed down?” You repeated with a smile. “I’m excited to meet him fully, then.”

“He’s something else,” Kun said with a shake of his head. “Like what I just had to do, asking him to butt out to get some privacy. ZEN at full capacity understands the concept of appropriate levels of snooping. This one, you have to give some clearer direction. He understands when we don’t need to hear each other—most of the time—but can’t turn off incoming audiovisual to himself of his own volition.”

“You must be used to his omnipresence on the Vision. His main nexus is there, I’m assuming he’s throughout the ship’s systems.”

“Well yes, but I don’t really care if he hears our talk around the mess table or sees me cleaning my armor. This… is different.”

“How so?”

“Well—”

“I’m kidding, Kun,” you laughed, bumping your shoulder against his. “I like knowing that we’re really alone, too. Makes it feel more… intimate, I think.”

“I agree.”

“There is one thing I’ll miss about Aegeum, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Those strawberries were really good.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he smiled fondly. “They were. Do you want to go get some?”

“Now?”

“Why not? One last handful, a midnight snack.”

“I do.”

And so the two of you quietly slipped out of his tent, hurrying off in the direction of the strawberry fields. You could hear the others by the river, though their voices and splashing got more distant the nearer you got to the fields. Finally, you made it to the strawberry patch, and the air of the ag bubble was peaceful around you.

There were small, hidden lights along the pathways and edges of the fields that automatically turned on at night, affording just enough brightness for you to be able to distinguish the fruits on the bushes as Kun went to pick them. He handed you the first one he grabbed, then bit into the second himself.

“Kun, you’ve got some on your face,” you pointed out, and he went to wipe at his right cheek. You shook your head with a giggle, bringing your own thumb up to his left cheek. “No, you— Here, I’ve got it.”

“Oh now that’s not fair,” he complained with an air of teasing in his tone.

“Why’s that?”

“You don’t have anything on your face, so I don’t have an excuse to charmingly cradle your cheek like you’re doing to me.”

“How about you do it anyway—” You took his free hand and brought it up to your face, “—and while we’re here, you can kiss me like you’ve been thinking about doing since the river today?”

“Am I easy to read or have you failed to mention that you’re a mind reader?”

“The first one,” you teased.

“All those years of intelligence operative training were wasted, apparently,” he chuckled.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

You met him halfway, closing the distance and melting into a kiss that tasted of the sweet-tart strawberry juice still on your lips. You took your hand from his face to tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, definitely longer than regulation, and he continue pressing his lips to yours over and over, as if making up for every moment tonight that he had wanted to kiss you but didn’t. You lost track of how many strawberry sweet kisses the two of you exchanged between bites, conversation, hushed bursts of laughter, and even more strawberries. And you thought that if this was part of your normal, no matter how fleeting, you could be pretty happy with this.

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