#Fic: Orbiting Jupiter

[persphonesorchid]

Orbiting Jupiter - KNJ

Summary: Namjoon has never met someone like you in a long time. Jupiter to his Ganymede; he's stuck in your orbit.

Warnings: Lots of anxiety on Namjoon's part, mentions of being stalked, Namjoon hurts himself more than anything bc he's clumsy. Smut (Minors begone.): Unprotected sex, mutual masterbation, light spit play, Namjoon's daddy kink is a brief topic of interest lol. I think that's all, let me know if i missed any!

Word count: 13.4k

Genre: Idolverse, strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of angst (it's not much, promise :)) Smut

Notes: FINALLY FINISHED!! This would have been out a whole lot sooner, but i've been dealing with life, stress, a breakup...more stress lol. But it's all good now! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and please leave feedback, even if it's just a little smiley face in the comments! Have a good day!!

Masterlist

Namjoon is dressed casually enough, he thinks. Inconspicuously enough that he won’t be recognized, enough that he could become another face in the crowd; enough to blend in.

It’s early, but the city is bustling with people starting their day. He tries not to be suspicious, as much as he could. Tries to navigate a city he’s been in many times before like he’s lived there his whole life. He tries not to look over his shoulder too much, guard up, like he’s just waiting for someone to run up to him and demand his attention. The mask and hat he picked out before he sneaked out of his hotel room brought him little comfort. He hopes that no one would give him a second glance or look too closely.

To this day he’d never understand how his fans can tell him apart by the way he walks, or by his eyes alone. So, he keeps his head down, hands in his pockets, and tries not to think too much about his stride.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for, what he’s doing out of his hotel room so early. He has no schedule today, free to do what he likes, and he just needed to get out for a minute or two. He wasn’t planning on straying too far, especially since he’s told no one that he was leaving. He found himself just walking, though, enjoying the sights and the people leading simple lives.

He finds a little café after walking some more, and stands outside it, out of the way of the door to avoid being an issue. It’s crowded inside, and anxiety curls in his stomach as he contemplates going in. He believes no one would recognize him, he hopes that no one would look too long, and he steps inside.

It’s a bit quieter than he expected, people talking in low murmurs amongst themselves. The loudest things being the sound of a coffee grinder running and a barista calling someone for their order. It’s a small café, more dining space than workspace, and Namjoon wanders over to the resister and orders without issue.

His eyes trail over the other patrons, everyone absorbed in their own worlds and conversations. The table he eyes quickly gets taken while he collects his iced Americano and he sighs softly, despite the amount of people in, he doesn’t want to leave yet, and the only available spot to sit comes with another person. Namjoon weighs his options. He could go outside, find a little park to sit in and drink his coffee, or he could risk it here, where someone has yet to pay him any mind. It’s been so long since he’s been able to walk freely, he knows he’ll miss it when he goes back through the front door.

So, with cautious steps, he walks over to the table with the only available seat.

“Excuse me...” Namjoon softly calls, briefly contemplating on tapping your shoulder; you’re reading a book, and he knows well how easily one can get lost in those. You look up though, the tiny furrow between your brows gives way to your confusion, as well as the little humming sound you make. “Sorry...do you mind if I...”

Namjoon motions to the chair across from you, and you look at it and then back to him for a few seconds before realization blooms in your eyes.

“Oh! No, of course...just...go ahead.” Your smile is pretty, Namjoon notes, and he realizes, as he thanks you and sits, that you recognize him. You stare at him in a knowing kind of way, and before Namjoon can up and leave, you simply smile the way you had before, as though he was any other stranger wanting to share your table. He watches with bated breath, trying to stay calm just in case, and you just go back to reading your book.

There’s no fanfare, no freaking out and drawing attention, or asking for a photo and too invasive questions. You don’t even look at him again. The sound of you flipping the pages of your book melds into the background noise of the space, and Namjoon finds it strange. He thanks his stars, though, he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and risk losing his head.

He relaxes when you continue to pretend he isn’t sitting in front of you, your eyes following the words on the page. There’s a tap of your fingers against the wooden tabletop, and a minute shake of your head before you close your eyes for a moment. You take an agitated breath, and Namjoon pauses the movement of him trying to get the straw underneath the bottom of his mask and watching you at the same time. He tries to peek at the cover of the book you’re reading, curious.

You shake your head again, muttering to yourself before going back to reading, your expression quickly blanks as you start back up again. Namjoon sips his coffee, for once feeling relaxed in a room full of strangers and lets his eyes trail elsewhere. Over to the little potted flowers that line the windows, or the people passing outside.

There’s a sudden squeak from you and Namjoon looks at you in time to catch the look of utter disbelief on your face. With frantic fingers you fish a bookmark from the back pages of the book before marking your spot and closing the book with a soft smack. Gently, with enough care that someone would think you’re handling glass, you place the book onto the table with a sigh and pick up your drink. You still don’t look his way, sipping at your drink with a frown and an irritated draw to your brows. Not that Namjoon is complaining, he swears he isn’t. It’s just...weird. He expected you to at least sneak a glance by now.

Curiosity should be a cardinal sin, as it’s gotten him into trouble more times than he could count, but Namjoon decides to dig his own grave anyway.

“What were you reading?” He asks, and it takes a moment, you’re clearly in your head, staring off at nothing and muttering into your drink. You look at him when his words finally break through.

“Huh? Oh...” You set your cup down, turning the book to him, “'The Desolation of Devil’s Acre'. It’s the last book of a series I’m following, and the main character is just...” You sigh through your nose, “He’s an idiot.”

You talk to him like any stranger, it almost made Namjoon think that you didn’t recognize him at all. He still sees it in your eyes, and as you’ve been adamant not to, he doesn’t address it either.

“I’d bet...” Namjoon chuckles, “If your reaction was anything to go by.”

There’s an embarrassed air about you now as you let out a soft laugh. Namjoon wants to smack himself though, he’d just told you that he’s been staring at you long enough to notice.

“Ah, yeah.” You wave a hand, “I bought it earlier...I was too excited and just got into it but Jacob is an idiot. He just makes me wanna reach in there and smack him silly.”

“Is it good?” Namjoon nods at the book, taking a moment to look at the cover. It’s black and white, a little girl sits on a black chair, a wall of photos is the backdrop, staring into the camera with big clear eyes and someone’s hand is tugging on the sleeve of the black and white chequered striped dress. It seems like a horror novel if Namjoon is being honest.

“I haven’t read much of this one yet, but the previous ones are amazing. Too bad the movie didn’t follow it correctly.” There’s an excitement in your eyes, and you seem perfectly content to rave about all the ways the movie went wrong and did the book absolutely no justice. Namjoon nods along, throwing questions at you about the books when he can, and by the time you’re done he’s laughing at something, and you are too. His iced Americano is now just an Americano that’s just slightly cold, more water than coffee, but Namjoon doesn’t mind and drinks it anyway. He still hasn’t removed his mask, but you don’t seem too bothered by it.

“It just would’ve been so much better if they’d followed the book correctly. I was so excited about the movie, and they just went and messed it up.” You sigh, taking a sip at your drink, Namjoon’s sure it’s cold by now. “You should give it a read, though...” You tilt your head at him, humming, and Namjoon tilts his head back, you can’t see it, but he smiles, the furrowing of his brows you do see.

“What?” Namjoon asks, a little amused by your sudden pause. You study him for a minute, but he’s comfortable enough in this space you’ve created that it doesn’t set off the usual alarm bells in his head. You’ve done wonders for treating him as just another person. Simply Kim Namjoon, who wandered into this small café and took the seat opposite you, and not RM of a globally recognized pop septet.

“You don’t strike me as a fantasy guy.” You say, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Oh yeah? And what do I strike you as?”

He leans forward a bit, genuinely curious, unintentionally flirty. He does his best to reel himself in, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You take it in stride, though, despite the flush to your cheeks and the embarrassed air that lingers.

“Philosophy, poetry...maybe a bit of romance.” You finally say, smiling a bit.

Namjoon hums, leaning back into his chair, “You know a lot.” He says, but between the string of words lies the unspoken ‘You know me.’. He studies you as you study him, your face betraying no emotion.

You simply shrug, lifting your cup to your lips again, “Human decency.”

Namjoon quite likes your company, and he spends an hour more sitting opposite you, enjoying the sense of normalcy you provide. He wonders what you both look like to onlookers, like two friends who haven't seen each other in a while and are simply catching up. It feels that way for Namjoon.

He sits there until his coffee is finished and yours is too and you’ve tucked your book away and you're both talking again about anything that comes to mind. You don’t ask him about his work, but you ask about what he’s into these days, he recommends books and music he’s sure you’ve never heard of, and you do the same.

Time passes and then some more, and it's enough time for someone to realize that he’s missing. His phone vibrates against his leg right in the middle of him explaining why he thinks some things that happen in life can’t simply be chalked up to coincidences and he startles, leg jerking, knocking his knee against the underside of the table.

It rattles the empty cups topside with a dull thud and a sharp pain shooting up Namjoon’s leg, you wince with him, and he mutters a string of expletives. Rubbing a hand furiously against the offended spot, Namjoon fishes his phone from the pocket of his jeans, not bothering to check who’s calling before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Namjoon-ah, where are you?” Seokjin’s voice is a little far away and a little distracted. He suddenly yells a curse and Namjoon can only assume he’s spent his morning breaking in some new game he bought. “Sejin-nim was looking for – fuck, I hate this game – something about a briefing. You’re not in your room.”

“Ah, Hyung. I took a walk...I’m not far. Yeah – I'm coming back...Okay.” Namjoon glances at you as he pockets his phone again, smiling with his eyes.

You smile back, waving a hand, understanding as he picks up the empty take away cup and stands to leave. There’s no complaint from you, nothing in your eyes that tells of anything else. “It was nice meeting you.” You say softly, leaning forward a bit even though the chances of you being overheard by anyone else was slim.

“You too.” Namjoon says, and he means it. You’re like a diamond in a coal mine, as finding someone like you – being who he is - was rare. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Namjoon pauses in the step he makes, faltering at your side and you look up at him curious and confused. He wars with himself for a moment, he’s certain that he’s about to do something stupid.

Something he should never do because of how dangerous it could be not only for him but his groupmates. He stares at you for a moment, long enough that it warrants your concern, and you ask if he's okay.

“Can I... Is it okay if I ask for your number?” The words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can reel them in, and he’s standing there a little mortified.

Namjoon always prides himself in being self-assured, but that same self-assurance leads him to putting his foot in his mouth sometimes and he says things without thinking first. It’s too late to pull the words back or act like he hadn’t asked because you’re blinking up at him, sitting a little straighter now in your seat.

You glance around, brows furrowed, “Are...are you sure?”

For the first time, it seems as though it just registered that you’re speaking to RM of BTS.

There’s a nervousness about you now, as you glance to the side, and Namjoon finds this strange. He’s not trying to sound like an ass thinking that many others would jump at the offer – or be bold enough to demand it first – it’s simply the truth.

He finds your consideration refreshing, though, and he waits patiently for you to make up your mind. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and Namjoon backtracks, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Namjoon says, putting up a hand. Despite who he is in the eyes of the public; he’s still a man. A man you’ve only spoken to for a half hour who’s now asking for your number, Namjoon would think very hard about it if he were in your shoes, too.

“I don’t meet a lot of people like you, and I thought it would be nice if we spoke often, but if that’s not cool, that’s okay.”

You shake your head, “No... it’s okay. I just...Are you sure? I don’t want to put you in any difficult spots, or myself for that matter...”

You’re surprisingly calm, looking more wary than anything else, and Namjoon takes that as a good sign. “I’m sure, don’t worry.” He smiles and pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans; he unlocks it with a press of his thumb and hands it over to you.

You fumble a little with the device, fingers tapping at the number pads quickly before handing it back to him. He shoots you a quick text, a simple ‘Hi :”)' before he was pocketing his phone again before he was waving and making his way out the café door.

Namjoon tries his hardest to keep walking forward back down the street and not jog back over to the glass window to wave at you. That would be very weird of him.

Namjoon’s day goes on as normal, not like he was expecting anything different. A whirlwind of briefings and meetings and discussions on what would be done during his group’s free time. It's no different to any other time, but by the end of the day Namjoon’s brain feels like mush and he’s lying in bed, palms under his head as he gazes at the swirling patterns etched into the ceiling.

He sighs, it’s long, drawn out and tired. He blinks slowly, sitting up to lean against the headboard. The sun had long set and only the glow of the city lights penetrated the darkness of his hotel room through the large window.

He squints at the lights that are too far off to be anything but hovering blobs in the distance, and briefly, he wonders what you’re up to.

Oh, that’s right.

Namjoon fumbles through the mess of his sheets to find the phone he knows he tossed there somewhere. It’s nowhere near him and he stands, lifting the sheets to look. There’s a dull thud and a clatter, and with a sigh, Namjoon rounds the bed to find his phone on the floor.

He plops back on the bed, pressing the power button and inspecting the screen for cracks. There’s a flurry of notifications and emails and texts from his group mates and work, and Namjoon scrolls through his notification feed. At the bottom, he finds a text from you; a reply to the message he’d sent earlier.

‘Hi (:’

It’s cute in its simplicity, but Namjoon stares at the place where your contact information sits. Just your number and nothing else, and Namjoon comes to the realization that he didn’t ask you for your name at any point this morning.

You had responded hours ago, and had sent nothing else, and with some embarrassment, Namjoon types out a message.

Namjoon: Hey, sorry I missed your text! Busy day, you know?

He frowns at the message when it goes through, at the time stamp that reads a little past midnight. You’re probably asleep and the timing seems a little less than ordeal, a little inappropriate given the hour, but Namjoon lets out a surprised hum when the bubbles appear at the bottom.

Unknown: Hey! No worries, it’s totally okay.

Namjoon: You’re up late...

Namjoon pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, was that a weird thing to mention? He can’t help but feel like he’s blowing this somehow. Is there a right way to text someone you barely know? He shakes his head, deciding not to think too much on it.

Namjoon: Sorry, but I didn’t ask your name earlier.

Unknown: Haha, that’s okay. It’s Y/n. And yeah, I was just finishing up some work.

Namjoon contemplates his next question, nerves running amok in his tummy.

Namjoon: Can I call you? Is that okay?

The bubbles appear and disappear for a moment and Namjoon thinks he’s overstepped. It’s pushing one in the morning and Namjoon’s aware of how it may look to you, how it may look to anyone else for that matter.

Y/n: Sure, we can do that.

Namjoon sighs, looking out the window, away from his phone to give himself a moment. You too – he’s mindful of himself, of course. He taps on the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

The line rings for a couple seconds, and Namjoon thinks that maybe you’ve stepped away for a minute or perhaps this was the wrong move and he shouldn’t have asked, but you pick up before another ring could sound. It’s quiet for a second and then he hears you inhale softly.

“Hey.” Your voice sounds a little different over the phone, or maybe it's just the time and Namjoon’s mind is trying to go places it shouldn’t. You’re as calm as you were this morning in the cafe, nothing in your voice betrays your emotion.

“Hey.” Namjoon can’t help the smile, and he’s sure you heard it in his voice. “I know it’s late, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good. I had a coffee so I’ll be awake for a while again.”

Despite your words your voice sounds tired and Namjoon feels guilty, laying back against the headboard with a soft sigh.

He asks about the book you’re reading and he listens to your rambles about the chapter you finished. Then you both talk about anything that comes to mind.

“How’d your day go? You don’t have to be too specific or anything, just in general.” You murmur softly, when Namjoon’s laying down fighting to keep his eyes open because he doesn’t want to hang up yet.

“Hectic.” He answers honestly, he can hear you shuffle around, getting comfortable in your sheets. “You?”

“It was alright, I spent half the morning freaking out, really. Today felt a little dream-like. If you hadn’t texted, I probably would’ve convinced myself that I imagined the whole thing.” You chuckle, and then there was a small pause, “Sorry, I’ve been so chill about it this whole time.”

“You’re fine. Handling it better than most.” Namjoon says, “I’m glad you didn’t freak out when you met me though.”

“Human decency.” You repeat your words from earlier, and Namjoon feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You’ve probably had enough of that to last you a lifetime.”

“It’s not too bad, sometimes anyway.” He says softly, halfway asleep and he’s sure you are too. Your voice is getting quieter, and Namjoon can’t keep his eyes open.

When Namjoon wakes it’s to the sun shining into his eyes and his phone is still in his palm. It’s a little after eight am when he checks, and the call had already been disconnected sometime around seven. There’s a message wishing him a good morning from you, there’s a flutter in his tummy at the little yellow heart that ends the text, and he thinks it may be a little too early for that kind of response. He can’t help it though, and he lays in bed for another few minutes and stares at it with a stupid smile on his face.

He wonders what to do with his day, now with more than enough free time on his hands to do whatever he likes and then he wonders what you were doing today. There’s an all-consuming longing for the sense of normalcy you provided within the day he’s known you, and he knows that isn’t much time to find comfort in a person, but he guesses that’s just how it is when you live like he does. However, he doesn’t want to scare you away with his need to feel something that was long lost to him, so he puts off asking you anything.

He has a few things lined up on his personal itinerary: Museum crawls and sightseeing, all of which he would do alone and hopefully without any troubles along the way. He finally decides to bite the bullet when he’s done with his breakfast and sitting at the small table in his hotel room, fiddling with his phone and his bottom lip between his teeth. You hadn’t replied to his responding text from earlier and Namjoon can only assume you’re busy, but he texts anyway.

Namjoon: Are you busy today?

He locks his phone and cleans up the table, snatching his phone up when it chimes softly, smiling already.

Y/n: Not particularly…why?

Namjoon could never distinguish tone from texts, so he’s not sure if you’re suspicious or teasing, so he replies carefully.

Namjoon: I’m doing a thing today…some sightseeing or I might go to a museum…wanna come with?

The bubbles disappear and reappear and then you’re calling.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t feel obligated to either.” Is the first thing he says when he answers, just to be certain.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I’d love to. I just need to know if it’s okay.” There’s a hesitance in your voice, a certain type of worry.

Namjoon is quick to ease, “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t, Y/n.” He says with a chuckle.

“Ah, okay.” You laugh a little, “Oh but what about...do I have to sign an NDA?”

Namjoon pauses, he’s forgotten about that. He runs a hand through his hair, “Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.” There’s a smile in your words and Namjoon can’t help but smile back. “Where do I meet you?”

Namjoon sat across from his manager, Sejin, in his hotel room. He clears his throat, feeling a bit nervous about what he was going to ask.

“Sejin,” Namjoon begins, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sejin, always attentive to Namjoon’s needs, leaned forward. “Sure, what’s on your mind, Namjoon?”

Namjoon hesitated for a moment before continuing, “There’s a friend I met recently, and I was hoping to bring her along with me when I go to the museum today.”

Sejin raises an eyebrow, his protective instincts kicking in. “A friend? Are you sure that’s a good idea, Namjoon? You know how public spaces can get, especially with a girl by your side.”

Namjoon nods, understanding Sejin’s concern. He’s well aware of how things can get, being who he is, especially in the eyes of some of his fans. “I know, Sejin. She's a good friend of mine, she won’t cause any trouble.”

Of course, Namjoon doesn’t know that for sure, but he’s willing to take the risk, and Sejin doesn't need to know he'd only met you yesterday; what he doesn't know won't kill him. One thing he’s certain of is that you’re different, and that’s something he can bet on.

Sejin contemplates for a moment, silent as he thinks before sighing. “Alright, Namjoon. I trust your judgement. But we need to take some precautions. We’ll have her sign a non-disclosure agreement to ensure our privacy and safety.”

Namjoon smiles, relieved that Sejin was willing to accommodate him. “Thank you.”

Namjoon paces in the hotel lobby an hour later, nerves making him unable to stand still for too long. He had met you just a day ago, but there’s something about you that intrigued him deeply. The way you’ve treated him like a regular person, not as the famous musician he was, is perhaps the biggest factor. He found that both fascinating and endearing.

Moments later, you walk into the lobby, looking a bit nervous yourself. You smile when you spot him, lifting your hand in a little wave. Your smile immediately puts Namjoon at ease. You’re wearing a simple dress, a backpack slung over one shoulder, walking over to him in quick steps.

“Hey.” You stop once you’re close enough, still smiling.

Namjoon smiles back, feeling a sense of relief. “Hey, Y/n Thanks for coming.”

You wave him off with a hand, looking around at the large lobby, the lights sparkling in your eyes.

Sejin is waiting at a table near the reception desk, and stands to shake your hand when Namjoon leads you over.

You take a seat and go through the formalities with him, and sign the NDA without complaint. Namjoon can’t help but feel a little worried, like he’s turning your life on its head by knowing him personally.

Namjoon watches the scenery pass by through the tinted glass of the car Sejin rented, the small talk died down as he pulled into the carpark of the museum. He leads you through the private entrance, where the manager meets you both with an enthusiastic greeting.

The museum is empty, and Namjoon catches the wonder in your eyes when he looks at you. “You rented out the whole place?”

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, I normally do. It’s more so for safety than anything else.”

You hum, nodding in understanding as you trail next to him. “It’s pretty cool, I’ve never been in one while it’s empty before.”

The private tour begins, and Namjoon’s knowledge and passion for art shines through as he explains the significance of each piece, trying his best to keep you entertained. You listen intently, genuine interest evident, even asking questions in between his rambling.

“You know,” You say, staring at a painting of abstract colours, “This is not at all how I imagined this to go.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He’s long stopped paying attention to the art that lined the walls, admiring you, mostly. “Oh? What did you imagine?”

You shrug, turning your head to look at him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, I expected bodyguards, and a bit of running around. This is nice, though.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, I would usually have someone close by, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You frown a bit, “Isn’t that dangerous though? You should have someone nearby regardless.”

“Your comfort is important.” Namjoon says, trying to keep you from worrying too much.

“Your safety is too, you know.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you he’s right outside?” Namjoon smiles, he could see you’re ready to debunk his words with the way your eyes narrow. “Don’t worry, someone’s near, just not as near as they would be normally.”

You stare at him for a quiet moment longer, “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

As the both of you continued your tour, the conversation between you flowed effortlessly. Namjoon took the moment he had to know more about you. Asking about your dreams, how far you’ve gotten in that book of yours, and the places you wanted to travel to. He found you easy to talk to, allowing himself to open up to you in a way he hadn’t with many people.

Something in the back of his mind, a learned warning echoed. He really shouldn’t be, considering everything. He chooses to ignore it for now, as you ask him about his favourite pieces of art.

By the time the tour was over and Namjoon actually remembered to take photos of the art, the sun was at its zenith. He tries not to take too long touring, so the museum can at least open to the public for the rest of the day.

You’re scrolling through your phone, looking at the photos you took of the pieces that caught your attention.

“Wanna get some food? There’s a good place nearby.” Namjoon asks, tucking his phone into his jeans.

You nod, smiling, “I can eat.”

Namjoon drives you both to a diner he’d visited once or twice when he was last in this city. The diner was packed for the lunch rush and Namjoon contemplates his next move in the car.

“Oh, that’s...” You glance between him and the view of the people in the diner, “I’ll go, whatchu want?”

“I can go...” You’re already unbuckling your seat belt and leaning down to rummage through your backpack. You find your purse with a soft ‘a-ah!’, smiling at him as you right yourself and turn to him again.

“It’s alright. It’s pretty crowded... you might not be so lucky this time.” You say, “Want anything specific?”

Namjoon smiles at you, shaking his head with a small laugh, “Anything’s fine.”

You nod, opening the door, there’s a rush of warm air that disturbs the AC, and Namjoon is stopping you. “Hang on...”

He sees you shake your head as he reaches for his wallet, and you step out before he can hand you his card.

“You can get it next time.” With that you’re off, and Namjoon watches a little slack jawed as you go.

Something in his chest flips and crawls up his throat, “...next time?”

You come out of the cafe, balancing two cups of something colourful in a cardboard holder and two brown paper bags a good five minutes later. Namjoon leans over to the passenger seat to pop the door open for you, extending his arm to take the holder.

“I got you a smoothie if that’s okay,” You say once you settle, passing him one of the paper bags, “Ham, egg and cheese sandwich.”

“Smoothies are good, thank you,” The smoothie is a mix of some fruit and another he can’t put his finger on. He hums at the sweet taste, “Oh, that’s good.”

For a moment, you both quietly eat, “Thanks for inviting me to come with you. I had fun.”

“Sure you weren’t bored out of your mind?” Namjoon teases, smiling when you reach over to smack his arm lightly.

“I was not!” Your giggle rings like a bell, “I mean it.”

As the days go by and his time in this city draws nearer to an end, Namjoon tries his best to spend as much time with you as he could. He’d text and call when he can and when your time allows it, learning more about you as he went along and liking you more as he did. He felt strange for the most part, as his two-week break comes to an end and he’s packing his things away and double checking that he doesn’t forget anything or pack something that isn’t his. His phone is propped up against the bedpost, distracted from folding his clothes by the view of you coming back into the frame.

“You’ll be busy once you get back, right?” You ask, sipping juice through the straw of a juice box.

Namjoon sighs, “Yeah, I’ll try my best to keep up with you, though.”

“You don’t have to.” You wave him off with a hand, “You’re a busy guy.”

“Would you miss me?” Namjoon asks, curious, because he’ll miss you. Is it normal to feel this way about someone you’ve known for only a short while?

“Nah.”

“Ow.”

“I’m kidding.”

Namjoon rolls his suitcase behind him, taking a moment to wave at the paparazzi and the fans that litter the terminal. He grips his phone tightly in his free hand, smiling at the cameras. He’s slept a little on the plane over, and even though he’s wide awake now he knows he’ll crash later. His phone buzzes in his hold and he briefly glances at it, he texted you right before he landed, and was eagerly awaiting your response.

He waits until he’s seated in the car at the entrance, he waves one last time through the window before he rolls it right up and settles into the leather seat of the car. The silence is soothing and Namjoon watches as the people outside filter away now that he’s inside.

Y/n: Hope your flight went okay!

Namjoon studies the text for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He was a little worried, honestly. He likes you, a lot, really, but what if it was simply in passing? A fleeting moment of interest? What if it all amounts to nothing in the end all because you’re you and he’s him? It’s easier to date within your own circle, to be with people who understand the complications and compromises that come with being with someone like him. He feels as though now, with an ocean between you both, everything will simply fade away. He’s known you barely two weeks, and even though he’s let you in, and you him, Namjoon can’t help his growing anxiety at the thought. Funny it occurs to him now that he’s back home.

Namjoon: It did!

He stares out the window for a bit, watching the familiar streets zoom by and shakes his head. When was the last time he actually felt like this? Meeting people is hard enough, and meeting someone like you is even harder. He’s seen and met a lot of people over the years, over his time as RM of BTS, a lot of fans who he thought beautiful and never pursued. He knows what comes of relationships between an idol and a fan, he’s seen it happen and it’s always a disappointment to be used like that. But he doesn’t want to put you in that box, he has no right to when you’ve shown him differently. Though, he’s in his right mind to keep an eye out for tabloids and articles of the things he’s shared with you and he also feels guilty that he does. He’s only known you for a short time, something he constantly has to remind himself of when he’s thinking too hard, but that level of trust is something he’s willing to work towards with you.

Namjoon’s days blur together into the weeks as they would when he’s too busy to do anything else but what’s required of him. Meetings here and there, album preparations; work. As he promised, he tried his best to keep up with you, and even on the days where all he could do when he comes home is pass out wherever he sets himself, you text or call to make sure he’s doing okay with it all. Sometimes it’s too early for you to consider being awake or it’s late at night and you’re too tired to keep your eyes open and Namjoon could barely understand what’s coming out of your mouth.

As the weeks meld into months you both found a routine that works best, and Namjoon finds things to do with you when you’re both free at decent times. Maybe you’ll watch a movie or play games together or simply catch up on things you’ve missed.

Namjoon never really has much to tell, most of his days are filled with work and despite his reputation for spoilers, he’s trying his best to keep things under wraps. You do most of the talking, you never seem to mind it much – smiling with a certain understanding – and Namjoon is always happy to listen about what you did that day or your workplace gossip.

He’s found it impossible to get you out of his head and focus more often, thoughts of you invading his mind more than anything else.

Even now as he tries to focus on putting a track together, he’s barely with it, phone propped up against a speaker and waiting for you to get back from getting some things done. He moved from the living room to his home studio a while ago, determined to get some work done and now just sits and stares at the tracks with a frustrated frown. He squints at the screen, moving some things around and playing the same track over and over.

“Where’re your glasses?”

Namjoon glances at his phone to see you just settling back on your couch, a glass bowl of cereal in your hand. You look cute in blue jellyfish printed pajamas he hasn’t seen you in before, hair pulled up and away from your face and even through the phone screen Namjoon can see it’s still damp.

“They’re…” He thinks for a moment, “…somewhere…”

You chuckle, “You should get those thingies kids and old people put on their glasses so they won’t lose them.”

“Trying to say something?”

“I’m just saying…you either lose them or break them and you can just avoid both by getting the thing. I know contacts are annoying.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding, “Yeah, they’re a pain in the ass.” He sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk to spin around and stretch his fingers. “Isn’t it late for you?”

You put another spoonful of cereal in your mouth, turning your hand to look at your watch and hum, “It’s not that late…trying to get rid of me?”

“Never.” Namjoon smiles at your teasing tone, “Sleep is important, though.”

“Says you.” You point a finger at him, “You texted me at three am two days ago.”

“You were awake though, so…you’re losing this argument.” Namjoon laughs as you snap your mouth shut.

You point your spoon at him, “I’ll win next time.”

“Are those new? The pyjamas.” Namjoon asks, propping his chin on his hand, resigning himself to not getting any work done this morning.

“I’ve had these a while, aren’t they cute? There’s a really big jellyfish printed on the back.” You say, setting your bowl down with a soft clink of the glass against the wood of your coffee table.

“Yeah they’re…” Namjoon feels the words stall in his throat as you stand up, the bottoms of the pajamas aren’t long legged pants as he expected them to be. They end just above the middle of your thighs, and you’re giving him quite the show when you turn and come back down. The sight of the cartoonish jellyfish on the back of the top knocks Namjoon back where he’s supposed to be and he pinches the back of his hand.

When you right yourself, sitting back on the couch, Namjoon can’t stop thinking about the rest of you he can’t see.

“What’s with that look?” You ask after a moment of him just staring.

“What look?” Namjoon asks back, and for a second you simply watch him before you huff out a laugh and look away.

“You’re looking at me like you…” You start, eyes moving back to the camera before they flit away again, “Oh, my mum’s calling. I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

Namjoon laughs a bit, nodding as he waves you goodbye, “Sleep well.”

“Ah, fuck.” Namjoon grunts, the muscles of his arm strains and he tilts his head back, sweat trailing down his neck. He brings his arm up and then back down slowly, letting a breath out through his nose, “Shit.”

The music playing through his Bluetooth headphones suddenly fades out, the specific ringtone he set for you plays softly. Namjoon sets the dumbbell down on the floor, pressing a finger against the touchpad of one of the earbuds and answers.

“Hey Princess, what’s up?” He pulls at the end of his tee, fanning the cool ac air against his warm skin.

“Joon, it’s a video call.”

“Oh.” Namjoon pulls his phone from his pocket, waving at you with a smile, “Hi.” He gets off the bench he’s sitting on, propping his phone somewhere safe and sits again.

“Hi…are you – damn give me a warning, won’t you?”

Namjoon looks up at you just in time to catch you looking away, not missing the motion of you biting your bottom lip. He smirks, whether you’re aware of it or not; this is payback. He had a hard time not thinking of you in those short pyjama pants for two days, and even though this was completely unintentional, it was worth your reaction.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Namjoon smiles innocently.

You shake your head, “Anyway…guess what.” He hears the excitement in your voice rather than see as you’ve stepped out of frame and then quickly back in with a bottle of water in hand. There’s a big bright smile on your lips and you seem to be bouncing a bit in place.

“Well someone’s excited.” Namjoon chuckles and you wave at him frantically, “Okay, okay. What?”

You pout, “It’s no fun if you don’t even attempt to guess, you know?”

“There’s like, so many possibilities of my guess being wrong.” Namjoon says and you sigh dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Killjoy.” You roll your eyes, the action playful, “I’ll be in your area around this time next week.”

It takes a full minute for Namjoon to process and he almost drops the dumbbell on his foot, “Eh?”

“Hyung…I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon whines, flopping back into the couch in Genius Lab. Seokjin pats his back as Yoongi swivels around in his chair to face him, plucking his headphones out his ears.

“That’s a good thing.” Yoongi says, standing to stretch with a groan, “But also…don’t think about it too much. Overthinking doesn’t do you any good.”

Seokjin sighs, shaking his head, “I think it’s good that she’s coming here. It’s a good way to connect, you know?”

“I know, but…”

“It’s different here, right?” Yoongi supplies, sitting back into his chair but he doesn’t turn away, “Feels like you have to run around in secret. And on top of that she isn’t in ‘our circle’, things can get overwhelming for both of you, especially her.”

Yoongi is right, as he usually was. The last thing he wanted was to have his life and the circumstances of it be too much for you to take. Namjoon told the guys about you once or twice, just in case things between you both became more serious than it is now, he didn’t want them out of the loop and have to explain later.

“I don’t want that to get in the way of a relationship should it happen…” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Alright Joonie, Hyung is gonna explain something so listen carefully.” Seokjin lays a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and Yoongi makes a face at the tone he uses.

“Why do you sound like you’re gonna talk to him about safe sex?”

Seokjin ignores Yoongi, turning Namjoon to face him with his other hand on the other shoulder, looking serious. “Namjoon. You’re more than your celebrity status. You’re a person with feelings and desires, just like anyone else. If you like this girl, don’t let fame be a barrier. If things get hard, do what all the other adults do; sit and talk about it.”

Namjoon nods, “Right. You’re right. Thank you, Hyung.”

“Now, imagine if I wasn’t here to look after you guys.” Seokjin pats Namjoon’s shoulder, one of his rare deep chuckles filling the brief silence. “Just take her to see all the good places, have fun and you can worry about the rest after.”

It’s a day after you arrive in Korea that Namjoon sees you.

He’s meeting you a block away from the place you’re renting for the two weeks you’ll be here. There’s a slight chill in the air as the tail-end of summer pulls the beginning of autumn, and you’ve unintentionally matched him with your dark clothes and hat. You both had been texting the night before and Namjoon promised to take you somewhere nice while you were free.

“Hi!” your greeting is cheerful, and Namjoon returns it, smiling.

“Settling in okay?” Namjoon asks as he pulls off the curb.

He is determined to make the most of every moment you both spent together, showing you all his favourite spots. You both wandered through bustling markets, sampled street food, and visited historic temples.

When the sun painted the sky with lilac and indigo and the moon chased it away, Namjoon parked his car in the carpark of an observatory. The observatory is closed of course, but there’s an event that Namjoon booked tickets for the moment he saw it. You expressed your love for the cosmos many times before, and Namjoon was more than willing to indulge you. At times he would sit and listen to you ramble on for ages, telling him any and everything.

He flashes you a dimpled smile, making sure his black mask and hat were secured before leading you to the park located at the back of the observatory. The park was a large space with sparse trees and shrubbery dotting the field, the trees are wrapped in fairy lights, which are usually on at night time but are off to allow the best view of the night sky. There are winding paths of gravel that goes every which way, and Namjoon picks the one where less people linger, leading you down it with your hand in his.

He leads you through the winding trails and the other people here for the event until he finds a clear spot where you both can sit comfortably without disturbance.

It’s a clear night, the stars twinkling in the sky above. It’s quiet between you for a moment, where you watch the sky and he’s looking at you. His heart pounds in his ears and he doesn’t know what else to do but look away when you suddenly turn.

“What?” You laugh, leaning slightly to nudge his shoulder with yours.

Namjoon laughs softly, knowing he’s definitely been caught and shakes his head, “Nothing.”

You sigh softly, wrapping your arm around his and leaning your head on his shoulder. He wonders how you both seem to people that may glance a little longer, perhaps like a pair of lovers simply enjoying the night in each other’s company.

Namjoon enters the code for his apartment door, the beep and the sound of the door unlocking is loud in the quiet hallway. He lets you enter first, sliding you a pair of house slippers before he leads you further in.

“Ah, don’t mind the mess...it’s not usually like this...” Namjoon scratches his cheek, eyes caught on the mess that is his coffee table. There’re wads of balled up paper strewn about it, lyrics he started and decided there was nothing he could do with them, his journal left open and his little green cactus pen abandoned. A stack of books on the floor that’s yet to be read.

He quickly walks over to tidy it, picking up the stray pieces of paper.

“Don’t worry about it,” You say, and Namjoon realises you’re not even paying mind to it. Attention fully stolen by the various art pieces he has hung on walls and settled into corners.

The living room of his apartment is large, and in an attempt to make it look less empty, it’s his usual place to put whatever catches his eye. Most of them are paintings, canvases filled with colours and scenery, a book shelf that holds none, instead, a display for finely crafted pottery, potted house plants and a tiny brass horse Taehyung gifted him some time ago. There are picture frames of his family, the boys and other abstract things he took himself filling the emptier spaces on the shelf.

Glass pane windows take up most of the wall on the other side of the room, giving a beautiful view of Hannam in all its glittering glory.

Namjoon makes his way into the kitchen, paper balls clutched in his hands and he asks if you want anything. You’ve wandered over to the shelf, looking at all the different pieces, telling him that water would be fine.

“These are really pretty,” you say, turning to him with genuine admiration. “Are all of them authentic?”

“Some of them are.” He says, getting a glass from his cupboard, and then quietly: “Most of those are from small local ceramists, some of them from charity auctions and things like that.”

There’s something surreal in having you a room away, and not making jokes with him through a phone screen. Namjoon finds himself a little at a loss, a lot clumsier than usual as he knocks his shin against the leg of an island stool. There’s a searing heat that climbs its way from the collar of his shirt to flush the skin of his neck and ears.

He sees the smile that curls the corner of your mouth when you glance at him, “Are you okay?”

Namjoon nudges the stool closer to the lip of the island counter – glaring at it as though it walked into his path just to spite him; he forgot it out this morning, it’s his fault really – and nods. “I’m good.”

He reaches you in three strides, passing you the glass of chilled water. You take small sips of it, and Namjoon tracks the motion of your throat as you swallow.

He gives you a little tour, telling you about the art and any little thing you ask after. Namjoon’s thrilled to share this part of his life with you.

When it got a little later, Namjoon stands in the kitchen, watching water boil because it’s the only thing you let him do. He feels a little embarrassed as you stand somewhere behind him, donned in an apron he barely uses. He’d suggested ordering in and in very you fashion, you’d asked when was the last time he had a home cooked meal. Honestly, it was a while ago, when he visited home.

You’d shook your head, listing the times he would call you while he was eating dinner and you eating breakfast and it would always be some sort of take-out.

You gracefully allow him to crack the pasta and put it in the pot, but that was the most of it.

“I won’t be explaining to anyone how you hurt yourself in here.” You say, lowering the heat under steaming tomato sauce. You’re making pasta, he thinks, as you’ve told him that your knowledge on Korean cuisine isn’t enough for you to try your hand at it.

“You wouldn’t have to, I hurt myself all the time.” Namjoon chuckles, “Can I at least help you cut those?” he motions at the small bowl of washed onions, not waiting for an answer, he pulls a knife from the holder at the corner of the island. He knows how to hold a knife without too much trouble, at least.

As you skilfully prepare dinner, the conversation between you both flow naturally. Talking about whatever comes to mind, anything and everything and laughing over stories. You both settle to eat afterwards, and Namjoon can’t stop singing your praises, he’d go halfway to say that you cook better than Seokjin…Maybe he’s just biassed.

After Namjoon washed the dishes – he swore he wouldn’t let you do anything more – you both took your drinks of bottled beers to the living room. Sitting on the couch, and a movie playing on the mounted tv that neither of you pay attention to, far too engrossed in talking to each other; the well of topics never seems to run dry. Namjoon thinks that’s nice, there’s always something to talk about with you, even if you’re just telling him workplace gossip from two weeks ago, or rambling on about a shell you found on a beach when you were nine.

“Oh shoot-” You turn your wrist to look at your watch, the glass face catching the overhead lights. You squint at the time, something Namjoon once made fun of you for, because who has analogue watches anymore? He doesn’t find it in him to laugh at you now though, as the realisation dawns on him before you can say: “It’s really late…”

He checks his own watch without much reason – thirty minutes past midnight – and he frowns, he’s kept you way later than he intended. “Shit yeah, my bad. Sorry I kept you.”

You wave a hand, smiling at him, “No, it’s okay!” You place the half empty bottle of beer on the little black coaster on the coffee table. You stare out at the city for a quiet moment, “How hard is it to catch a taxi from here?” you ask, and then, quietly to yourself: “Maybe I should call an uber…”

It takes Namjoon a fraction of a second for his mind to fumble, trying to grasp at the words uselessly before they tumble out into the air. His mouth moves faster, though, “Or you could just stay here?”

He blinks at you and you blink back, the words hanging in the air long enough that Namjoon wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him, never to spit him out again. He stumbles with his words, dropping them as though the gears of his mind are grinding to a halt, coating in rust. “Um-If th…uh…you don…”

Then, you smile, your cheeks squishing your eyes. “Only if that’s okay.”

“More than.” Namjoon can’t help his smile back; grateful you didn’t mention him tripping over himself. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Twenty minutes later, Namjoon is digging through his drawers for something for you to wear for the night, the blush that had flushed his cheeks earlier had returned with a vengeance as he thought about the fact that you’re staying the night and would be wearing his clothes. He’s still beside himself, not too sure what to do, because this is so far beyond the two of you being friends and talking through calls and texts.

He settles on a long-sleeved tee shirt and black sweatpants and meets you back in the living room, where you stand at the window watching the lights twinkle down below and in the distance. When he announces his return, you turn, looking a little worried and Namjoon once again wonders if he’s crossed a line somewhere. You smile softly, taking the bundle of clothes from his arms.

“Thank you…” You say, and then, softer: “Are you sure it’s okay?”

Namjoon plants his hands on your shoulder, squeezing gently before he leads you back the way he came, following your steps closely with his own. He stops you right outside the bathroom door, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Namjoon lays awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. You’re sleeping in the room across from him, well, he assumes you’re asleep by now. The clock at his bedside blinks sleepily, but Namjoon finds it hard to let his mind settle.

When you’d come out of the bathroom earlier, a little over thirty minutes ago, you were practically drowning in his clothes. You’d rolled the legs of the pants a few times but it still swam around your ankles and the tee was at least three times your size.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in oversized clothing before. It’s simply the fact that it’s his. It’s been a good few months since he’s met you in that cafe, and a good few weeks since he’s realised he liked you.

It may have happened when you went off on one of your many rambles about something or the other. He’s not quite certain. After spending the entire day with you, Namjoon likes you in his space. Not once have you given him the need to run in the opposite direction, not once have you broken his trust.

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, kicking his feet under the blanket. Making up his mind, he gets out of bed and marches confidently to his door. He pulls it open and the edge of the door hits his toe. He stands for a moment, with his eyes closed, brows furrowed in pain and a hand over his mouth keeping the pained yelp trapped. “...Ow.”

He takes the five steps across the hallway, raises a hand to knock, takes a breath and turns on his heel. He walks a little ways up the hall.

“Okay. C’mon, it’s not that hard.” He mutters to himself, and then looks back at the door, “This is very hard.”

He’s not sure. He’s sure of himself, and his feelings, but...what if you’re not in the same place he is?

“Joon?” You poke your head out the door, and Namjoon startles. “You good?”

You didn’t look like you went to sleep and he woke you up, though your hair is a bit tousled and Namjoon would like to hope that you’d been just as restless as he was.

“Yeah...”

You give him a look that says you aren’t too convinced, “I heard a thud.”

“Oh...” The ache in his toe rings with a dull echo, and he looks down at his feet and then back at you, “Door...I jammed it against my toe.”

Your eyes flicker downward, and even in the dimly lit hallway he could see your amusement. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, happens all the time.”

“I’m concerned at the fact that you think accidentally hurting yourself this often is normal.” You laugh and Namjoon makes his way over to you but stops short and stares up at the ceiling. You’ve ditched the pants he gave you.

“What are we looking at?”

He glances at you and you’re also looking at the ceiling.

“You’re not wearing pants.”

You must’ve caught yourself, because there’s a soft gasp and the shuffling of your feet. When Namjoon brings his gaze back down you’re peeking at him from behind the door.

“Sorry!” You squeak out, “Sleeping in long pants is uncomfy.”

“It’s okay, I sleep naked sometimes so...” Namjoon couldn’t stop the words before they hit the air, and for a moment they simply hang there as you both stare at each other.

“Not that you should sleep naked...I mean – you can if you want to, really, doesn’t bug me at all...” He’s really trying to reign it in here. “There’s nothing wrong with sleeping like that. As long as you’re comfortable!”

“Relax,” You laugh, sticking your hand out through the gap in the door and the frame to wave him down, “I’m not sleeping naked. I get cold fast.”

“There’s a solution for that.” Another pause, and Namjoon realises how his words sounded as you raise a brow at him, “The heater. There’s a heater in there. I wasn’t suggesting that I could...”

Namjoon sighs, he really does put his foot right in his mouth. So he does what’s best for everyone and just closes it.

Just when he was beginning to think that this moment would be at the top of his 'Awkward situations you’ve created' list, the gap widens just a bit and there’s something shy about your small smile and the way your eyes stay glued to the floor.

“I wouldn’t mind...” Your words are soft and Namjoon wonders for a moment if he misheard. This is the most shy he’s seen you in a while, looking up at him through your eyelashes, fingers caught in the hem of your borrowed tee-shirt; wringing the life out of the piece you hold.

“Yeah?” His voice is equally as soft, giving you room to change your mind if you so wished. You nod mutely and Namjoon gives you a second more to think carefully, only stepping forward when you step back and pull the door with you.

You leave the door open a crack, so that the light from the hallway bleeds into the darkness, and Namjoon watches as you walk over to the bed and crawl under the blankets.

There really isn’t much to this room, equipped with the essentials and a few nick-knacks and a bookshelf he’d put his other books on because there was no space on his other ones. There was a landscape painting hanging above the headboard, something he put there to give the room a bit more personality.

You’re peeking at him from the blankets, the soft mounds of material hiding most of your face from view. It’s a lot cooler here than his room, though the floor is cold under his bare feet and he briefly wondered if you need socks.

He walks soundlessly over and out of habit, he’s already pulling his tee-shirt over his head but pauses when it hangs on the length of his arms. “Shit – sorry.” He pokes his head back through the neck of the tee, “I run hot so I don’t usually sleep with a shirt on.”

“Is that why you sleep naked, too?”

Namjoon is grateful for the dark as heat runs up his neck. He takes it in stride, though, “Yeah. Clothes are constricting sometimes.”

There’s something else in your voice when you giggle, and there’s a shifting of the blankets. “You can keep it off if you want.”

Namjoon hums, “Are you okay with that?”

“As long as you’re comfortable.”

“Your comfort matters, too.” It’s not as though you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before; you shaded video calls during his workout sessions. Even though most of those are spent with you trying not to look at him – Namjoon’s caught you staring more times than he could count. This is different, though, he reminds himself; you’re no longer oceans away.

“I’m comfortable with it.”

“Okay.” Namjoon pulls his shirt off and folds it neatly, placing it on the nightstand before he climbs into bed next to you.

His side of the bed is cold, but he could feel your warmth just inches away. He turns to face you, lying on his side, finding your eyes in the dark.

“Hi.” You’re already facing him and in the darkness, Namjoon smiles.

“Hi.”

Your toes brush his under the covers and Namjoon hisses softly, “Are you cold?”

“A little...”

“Want me to get closer?” Namjoon whispers, and to his surprise, you move over first.

There’s a slight chill to your skin as you settle, resting your head where Namjoon extended his arm and then, close enough that your legs tangle with his and the ghost of your breath tickles his chest. You smell like him, like watermelon and mint; He’s once again grateful for the darkness.

Namjoon lets his other arm rest in the dip where the softness of your stomach meets your waist. It’s quiet when you both stop shuffling about, and your breaths are a tad nervous on the inhale.

“Okay?” Namjoon tries his best not to disturb the quiet, speaking softly. He feels you nod, and a slow flow of warm air as you sigh.

“You’re really warm.”

Namjoon chuckles, and silently, holds you tighter. He lets his chin rest on the top of your head, your hair tickles his nose. It smells faintly of his shampoo – he’s never loved it more. He wants to stay there forever, wrapped in the sweet, gentle scent of honeysuckle, melon and something uniquely you.

Namjoon wonders – and he knows, there’s no point in dwelling on the thought – what would’ve happened if he’d walked out of the cafe that day. Held captive by his responsibilities and his duty to keep his group and their image as spotless as possible. It would’ve been different had you not been the way you are.

He calls your name softly, and he wonders if you can feel the rapid pace of his heart beneath the warmth of your palm. It kicks against his sternum like he’s been running, and he takes a breath. There’s something unspoken here, in this darkened room where only the walls are listening.

Somewhere along the way, during the days that dragged the weeks into months – somewhere – a line was blurred.

Sleep wraps around your tired hum like a warm blanket, the sound of the sheets shifting further shattering the quiet as you lean back a little to look at him.

He lets his hand find the warmth of your cheek, moving until his thumb is resting against the front of your ear and his fingers are nestled in the softness of your hair.

“Wanna ask you something.” He says.

“What’s it?”

Distractedly, Namjoon’s fingers rub tentative circles in your scalp and catches the way your eyes flutter at the feeling.

He smiles when your eyes open and meet his, with the dark he grows confident, and softly: “Can I kiss you?”

His words hang in the air, heavy with desire and affection. In that moment, the weight of his request carries with it a profound realisation.

It’s not just a simple act of physical connection he seeks, but rather a deeper, more profound expression of love. His request bears the weight of all the emotions, vulnerabilities, and hopes he has placed upon this relationship.

The answer now rests in your hands, and Namjoon waits with bated breath for your response.

“Please.” Your answer dances between you both, and Namjoon angles your head upward slightly, and closes the gap with a tentative kiss. Your lips are soft and taste of mint when he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth. He doesn’t ask for much more, gentle in the way that he pulls you closer, fingers tangling in the soft hair at your nape.

In this moment, there is no need for words. The brush of your skin against his, the sweet taste of your kiss, and the way your bodies gravitate towards each other speak volumes.

Namjoon cherishes every second, every breath shared, as he grows more intoxicated by you.

His heart pounding in his chest, all thoughts of caution and restraint fade away. Giving in completely to his desire and lust, he pulls you close, not wanting this moment to end. The kiss is now an embrace, with both of you giving in fully.

His lips caress yours, his touch slowly becoming more and more intimate. His tongue finds yours, and Namjoon swallows the sound you make.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, you both take in a deep breath. It’s like everything around you becomes blurred, with only the two of you visible.

He runs his hands through your hair, looking into your eyes. He draws closer again, resting his forehead against yours.

He’s quiet, still for a moment, simply watching you in the dark. Your fingers tap softly against his chest, confusion and worry sit on the furrow of your brow.

“What wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your eyes each and then your forehead where he lingers. “It’s nothing... it’s just...”

“I want you to understand...” He continues softly after a breath, “My life can be overwhelming, it’s hard even for me some days. There’s times when I feel like I’ve worked hard only to get myself trapped in a bottle. Dangling above the view of millions who think I should live my life their way.

It isn’t easy. There’s always a risk that maybe one of us would slip up or something else. Privacy is something hard won and I’d hate for anything to happen that puts you in a position that you’ll regret.”

Namjoon lays his worries bare like cards going all in, focusing on the texture of your hair between his fingers. He allows you a moment to absorb his words, to really think.

The life of an idol isn’t for everyone; so many have cracked under the pressure of it. The life of an idol’s partner does not come any easier. Your relationship would be kept buried like a dirty secret to feed into the delusions of a certain variety of ‘fans’, all for the safety of the people involved.

If by some miracle, or a stroke of good luck, you choose to continue onward despite the challenges it would bring, Namjoon would be eternally grateful and he would spend his days making sure you never regret that choice.

“Joon...” Your hand meets his wrist, curling at his pulse. “I’ve known from the beginning what it would be like. You’ve got fans all over the world who adore you, and who would do just about anything to get close to you. It’s not easy to live a life like that, to be constantly watched and judged.

“But I knew that going in,” you continue. “I may not have expected to fall in love with you, but now that it’s happened, nothing else matters. I know what it’s like to have eyes always on you, and I’m willing to do anything to make it work.”

“You...you love me?” Namjoon's mind feels as though it blanked, though somewhere in the back among the cogs grinding to a halt your words have registered. Right now, he could only tunnel focus on that one thing.

“Oh god.” There’s a smile blooming on Namjoon’s lips as you groan an embarrassed sound, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He laughs softly, leaning back to catch your gaze but you evade him, bringing your hands up to cover your face instead.

Namjoon briefly wonders if this is what a moon orbiting a planet feels like. Ganymede does not question the gravity of Jupiter. It simply orbits the planet, accepting its fate. And Namjoon accepts his fate of being drawn to you. He is not swept up by your presence, but rather firmly grounded, and held in place. His feelings for you are as natural as the pull of gravity, as certain as the rotation of the Earth.

In your presence, everything shifts, and nothing else becomes important. Your gravity becomes his universe, and he is perfectly content to reside in it.

“I love you too.”

You peek at him through your fingers, and Namjoon doesn’t let the moment pass, prying your hands gently away from your face. He leans closer and presses a kiss to your lips, there’s nothing gentle about it this time – all teeth and tongue and quiet sounds that Namjoon swallows. He eases you onto your back with a gentle hand, slotting himself between your legs.

He trails his kisses down your neck, catching the skin with his teeth and sucking to leave his mark. He trails his hand down the length of your thigh, over the band of your underwear and under the soft cotton tee-shirt. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your hip, feeling the warmth of your skin and the way you tremble beneath his touch. He travels further still, up your ribcage to your breasts, feeling the soft curves and the way your nipples harden beneath his caress.

He feels the goosebumps that erupted at his touch, feels the hitch of your breath in your chest. Namjoon sucks a mark against your collarbone, he shifts so that he’s at your side, giving his hand more room.

He traces feather light touches along the expanse of your stomach and you giggle into his kiss. His fingers glide just above the waistband of your underwear, teasing until you whine his name.

Namjoon chuckles as he pulls away, “Can I?”

Words seem like more than you can manage and you nod. Namjoon gives a fleeting kiss, as his fingers dip lower, pushing aside your underwear to find your heat. The arousal clinging to your panties cools rapidly against the back of his hand, and Namjoon dips a finger into the warmth of you.

He keeps his eyes on your face as he does, watching the way your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. He nudges his nose against your cheek and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear. He’s barely touching you, keeping his fingers just shy of where he knows you want them the most.

It’s a while of teasing you this way, and Namjoon likes the way frustration bleeds into your soft, breathless moans when he circles your clit with his slick fingers and pulls away. He gives your neck and chest most of his attention, with gentle squeezes and his tongue tracing abstract patterns, drawing your nipples into his mouth with soft tugs of his teeth.

When the next whine of his name comes with teary eyes, Namjoon takes pity on you. The wet, tightness of you makes him groan and he pulls a hissing breath through his teeth, pressing his erection against your hip where he ruts in sync with the movement of his fingers.

He curls them upward, your back bows and he presses the heel of his palm against your clit. He kisses your cheek when your fingers wrap around his wrist, “I got you, baby.”

You gasp, your pleasure mounting until you can’t take it anymore. You writhe beneath his touch as you reach the peak of pleasure, calling out his name as you fall over the edge.

Namjoon gives you a moment to breathe, running his hand along your thighs and tummy. He takes your face in his hands once your breaths evened out, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing in your scent. His lips find yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless.

“Good?”

“Fuck – yeah.” Your fingers tug at his hair and Namjoon groans.

“Want me to go on?” He asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple and then, almost jumps right out of his skin when your other hand squeezes at his cock in his sweats. He lets out a chuckle that gets muddled by a moan that rumbles in his chest. “Baby.”

Namjoon sees the smile that curls in your lips, the innocent way you blink at him. You hum softly when he mouths at your jaw, a shudder runs through him and he can’t stop himself chasing the friction with a buck of his hips.

“You wan’it?” Namjoon’s drunk on you and you’ve barely done anything. You’re tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants, and he groans, letting his forehead rest against your chest when your hand wraps around his cock and tugs upward. “Ah, Fuck.”

He feels your hand against his chest and lies back when you push gently. He watches as you tug his tee-shirt and your underwear off, and he quickly follows to take his sweats off.

He slides his hands up your thighs when you settle on his. A breath catches in his throat when you wrap both hands around the width of his cock. His fingers gripping where your thighs meet your hips, and he watches with heavy lidded eyes as you lean forward slightly and spit. The dollop of saliva lands deftly on the head of his cock and Namjoon’s eyes roll back as you focus there.

You’re twisting your wrists, the slick sound of it and Namjoon’s harsh breaths are the only sounds in the quiet room. When he feels his lower stomach clench he grabs your wrist and still your movement.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of literally anything else, “You’ll make me cum if you keep doing that.”

Your giggle rings like a bell and Namjoon smiles at the sound. Sitting up he pulls you forward, trapping his throbbing cock between his stomach and the heat of your cunt. He groans at how wet you are, blunt teeth nipping at your jaw. “Wanna ride it?” He breathes, “Hm? Wanna fuck me?”

He feels your nod, feels the shuddering breath you release against his hair. “Words, Princess.”

“Yeah, wanna fuck you.”

Namjoon helps you balance, guiding his cock – slick with your juices – to your entrance. He sucks on your tongue as you come down slowly, and Namjoon swears he’s seeing the pearly gates behind his tightly shut eyes when your walls flutter.

He lies back, giving you a moment and short, shallow thrusts. You look so beautiful above him, your hair a rumpled mess, throat and chest covered in bruises of his own making. He gives a single thrust, a hand sliding up your sweat slicked skin to palm at your breast, his other hand landing a harsh slap against your ass.

You squeak out a moan and Namjoon chuckles, doing it again, “C’mon, baby girl. Fuck me.”

Your hands press against his tummy, hips rising slowly and coming back down. He lets you set the pace, content to lie back and take what you give. He could feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, and Namjoon tightens his grip on your hips.

He plants his feet flat on the bed, meeting you halfway with his thrusts. He pulls you down with a hand behind your neck, when your chest meets his he wraps his other arm around your waist and sets a brutal pace.

“Feels so fucking good.” Namjoon groans, “Pussy’s so good—fuck.”

You’re moaning right in his ear, whining, breathless sounds that makes him fuck you harder. Without warning, your thighs squeeze at his sides and you tremble above him. Your orgasm pools in his groin in a gush of warmth, your moans pitching an octave with his name and Namjoon swears, fucking you through it.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.” Namjoon groans, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He slows his thrusts and gently eases you off him, he settles behind you when you’re on your stomach, lifting your hips to meet his.

Your moans are muffled by the sheets when he thrusts forward. He holds you steady with a hand gripping your waist and the other on the back of your neck. He focuses his thrusts on the spot that makes your walls tighten and drip.

He looks down to watch his cock disappear inside you, and the way your ass jiggles from the force of his thrusts. “Fuc—M’gonna cum. Where you want it?”

You meet his thrusts halfway, “Inside.”

“You sure?” Namjoon pants, slowing down just a bit.

“Yeah—wanna feel you. Please, daddy.”

Lightning shoots down his spine, curses in his mother tongue trapped behind his teeth as he spills his release inside you. He holds you pressed against him, balls deep, moaning at every throb of his cock.

He pulls you closer when he lays down, peppering kisses all over your face and wherever he could reach. When you’ve both caught your breaths, you finally speak, chin propped on your hand on his chest.

“Daddy, huh? That does it for you?” You’re giggling and Namjoon throws an arm over his eyes, groaning.

“Shut up.” He can’t help his smile, “You’re the one who said it, so I think it’s the other way around actually.”

“We’re both gonna lose if we go there.”

A half hour later, after the sheets in the guest bedroom were stripped and you and him are settled for the night in his room, Namjoon wouldn’t change a thing if he had the power to. He’d go into that cafe and sit at your table every time.

Ganymede has no choice in the matter, he would orbit Jupiter as long as she allows it.

Tagging (Bold means i couldn't tag ):) : @xpeachesncream @luaspersona @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @eoieopda @euphoricfilter @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @eren-fall @blog-name-idk @idkreallys-blog @thvunaise @menialthoughts

[spotforme]

okay so in better than life i think Rimmer says "How on Titan are you gonna pay for that" and i find it pretty interesting, Titan is one of Saturn's moons, now maybe Titan was the last place they stopped at before everyone died so that's why he uses that version of the expression, the place is fresh on his mind and all that, or maybe he ended up on Titan sometime after his divorse and that's why he thinks of it like Earth (in saying the expression like that)

before this continues i'm just gonna say that i will be rambling and nothing else

this is quite early in the show so it hasn't had much time to contredict itsef yet so i'm thinking i can think anything i want about the timeline at the moment. so i'm thinking, remember this is all just bonkers speculation that i find fun that makes about as much sence as the show itself, that Rimmer lived on Titan for a while, not a long while because he doesn't have much time between the devorce and joining JMC, and i know he got previleges to the family dog which means he should've been able to visit Jupiter on regular basis but let's just say he got bored or his family drove him off even further or whatever. point is he made a little life for himself on Titan, maybe a few months, maybe three years, it doesn't matter, but i think it would be interesting what could happen when Rimmer with his peculiarities runs off to another planet's moon and has to adjust to a new society. i have seen a lit of fics where Io is just this 300 years late to modern norms homophobic untrusting society with girls' home strictness levels, and it's pretty funny that so many people have come to that same conclusion even though i've hardly seen any discussion about it (Rimsy's piece of shit family's out there inventing stereotypes for all Ioians lol) back to the point. knowing Rimmer he'd likely feel superior for the upbringing he had and be pompous using his family's achievements as his own, so even if Titan had a chill athmosphere he would likely not get on there either because he just has to be him, and any culture differences might feel like super big deals to him which doesn't help him get comfortable much, probably just fuels his 'out of place' 'never belonging' thing he has made for himself. i'm kindof in a battle with myself now about if he would even get a job, if he would apply for one, like would he go to a coffe parlour and ask for a job where he has to clean the dishes and whatnot when there's no chanse of becoming an officer? maybe if he needed money, i wish i knew how much he had to spare for monthly spending. if he had no need for money then what could he be doing all day, he had to stumble into JMC's workforce sometime. i still believe it most likely that he went straight to them from Io and has been in space sence (except for what little leave they're allowed) but this is a though and i'm skipping with is, okay. another interesting thing about Titan is that it's orbiting the same planet as Mimas, and we all know how gruffy Mimas is. anyway that knowlege just makes my brain bloom with hideous ideas. more likely i think is that he just went there on shore leave and it was a memorable place, it seems pretty from the pictures i've seen so maybe it's just one of the only calming places for him that he yearns to know the tranquility of again, but i've got no bases for that except that it's got a pretty atmosphere.

right-o this end my pointless rant brought on by one singular line, for now at least

[ilovekyman]

Shelly Marsh Fanfictions

Shelly doesn't get enough love so here is a list of all the fanfictions I could find with her as a major character. Additions appreciated and tell me if I got anything wrong

List under cut vvv

English fics

Cold Never Bothered Him Anyway - Shelly vs Stan

Never Forget Your Skates, Kids - Shelly x Kevin smut

Crickets - Shelly and Stan angst

runaway - Shelly x Kevin (ao3 users only)

Wherever She Goes, Destruction Follows - Shelly x Kevin

hey there shell-lilah - Shelly x Kip Drordy (from "You Have 0 Friends")

God, I Hate This Fandom! - Crack ic meta rant

Two Misfits Fit Together - Shelly x Kevin

Familiar Issues - Shelly x Trent Boyett (from "Preschool")

Why Stan Doesn't Like Veggies - Stan angst w/ oblivious Shelly

Slice of Marsh Life - Marsh family fluff (Shelly is absent for chapter 1)

Wanderlust - Drabble in chapters 1 and 2

Dissonance - Drabble in chapter 5

You're okay...You're Alright - Shelly and Stan hurt/comfort

Everything Is Nothing - Post-Covid angst

ignite me - PC angst

Sprout - Shelly and Sharon fluff

Tragedy at Tegrity - PC angst

Diving, Dying - Shelly and Stan hurt/comfort

We Are Fully Family - Marsh family fluff

Love Like No One's Watching - Shelly x Kevin

The Golden Child - Shelly and Stan angst

Shut Up, Turd! - Oneshot collection

Heat, Soda, and Porno Mags - Shelly and Stan fluff

I look just like him - Shelly and Stan fluff

WHAT WHAT WHAT - Style, but Shelly is a major character

Kevin McCormick's Shitty Life - Shelly x Kevin

Happier Than Anyone Else - Shelly x Kevin (part 2 to prev)

Secrets - Gerandy, but Shelly is a major character

easier to cry - Shelly and Stan hurt/comfort

The word tragic means a lot to me - Marsh family hurt/comfort

The Shelly Enigma - Marsh family angst

Someone Has Your Back - Style, but Shelly is a major character

It's All Because of a Robber - Crack

And He Loves Me, Wherever I am - Shelly x Kevin angst

Orbiting Jupiter - Shelly and Stan angst

Omori Park - Omori AU

Shelly Marshes story - Brief overview

Circus Fun - Shelly x Kevin

Echos of Absence: Shelly Marsh’s Solace Admist Loss - Marsh family angst

indelicate, get over it - Dead dove, read tags

Nintendo 64 - Shelly and Stan angst

Now That You're Here - Shelly and Trans Stan fluff (?)

Kevin x Shelley fanfic :)))) - Shelly x Kevin

Kevin x Shelley fanfic: THE SEQUALLLLLLL :)))))) - Shelly x Kevin (part 2 to prev)

Intrusive thoughts - Dead dove, read tags

Dinner Bell - Dead dove but with happy ending

Fire burns brighter at the end of the tunnel - PC Angst

Shelly's Great Day - Crack fixit

Forgotten No More: The Rise of Shelly Marsh - Fixit

My Favorite Turd - Shelly x Kevin discontinued

ˢᴴᴱᴸᴸᵞ'ˢ ᴹᴮˢ - RP Prompts

Older Sister - Shelly and Stan fluff w/ some dead dove

Kevin, Shelly Drink Beer - Shelly x Kevin crack

Kevin Gets Braces - Shelly x Kevin fluff

Broadway Bro Down - The Aftermath - Shelly x Larry crangst

Broadway Bro Down: A Diffrent Ending - Shelly x Kevin crack smut

Revenge On Shelly Marsh - Crack

Kevin McCormick Vs The World - Scott Pilgrim AU

Double Date - Shelly x Kevin w/ Kenny x OC smut

Shelly Marsh VS Kevin Mccormick - Tweek vs Craig but with Shelly and Kevin

Love or Infatuation? - Shelly x Trent Boyett (from "Preschool")

Kyle Broflovski and Shelley Marsh: Together? - Shelly x Kyle

With Stan as a Little Brother - Shelly and Stan

Dirtbag - Involves Shelly love triangle

A Serious Case of Cooties - Style, but Shelly is a major character

How They Communicate - Shelly and Stan fluff

Back To The Old House - Shelly and Stan fluff

Other Languages

kevlly - Shelly x Kevin español

В тебе я сомневаться не хочу - Shelly x Kevin Русский

【马什姐弟】再见永无岛 - Shelly and Stan fluff 中文-普通话 國語

Atrevido - Paloma muerta español

[heliopauseentertainments]

Branched Paths

Part of MegaSound Week 2023 - Hosted on Tumblr by @mega-wave-superior Prompt: Day 4 - Solidarity/Solitude

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Megatron/Soundwave

Characters: Soundwave

Summary: In which Soundwave reflects on Megatron’s absence.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

The mottled yellow-green volcanic world of Io, backlit by the light of Jupiter’s thick, gaseous atmosphere made for lovely viewing as Soundwave stood at one of the windows in his quarters.

The day’s labors of mediating disputes and trying to increase resident morale could finally be put aside; Soundwave could appreciate the true value of a few hours of respite.

Even at the cost of being nearly alone with his own thoughts.

Sanctuary Station, orbiting slowly in Io’s gravity well, was just that… a sanctuary, free from the prejudices of their homeworld. Or at least it was in theory.

Soundwave knew that Galvatron didn’t truly believe in the core of their cause; he had merely seen an army to leverage for further conquest in the vacuum caused by Megatron’s departure. At least Galvatron had given Soundwave, with the help of Earth’s humans, much latitude to make a home for the Decepticons who were finished with all of it.

Thankfully Galvatron was rarely here, Soundwave thought, leaning his hands against the wall on either side of the reinforced glass. That Golden Age relic’s brand of loud domination wasn’t right; it wasn’t the same. He was a hollow substitute for the real thing, for the visionary he replaced.

Ravage’s reports from the Lost Light were few and far between, no sign of changed minds. No sign of remembering what they had promised each other in the dark on so many nights, hunkered down in some besieged base or tucked away into a secure corner of the Nemesis with their cables intimately entwined. No sign of repayment for Soundwave’s unerring devotion over millions of years.

But Ravage didn’t know.

Soundwave had never shared the secret and Megatron likely never would either. Ravage would become… disappointed in them both, he was sure.

The sounds of Rumble and Frenzy breaking glass in the hallway barely made it into Soundwave’s quarters, momentarily disrupting his thoughts. He ought to invest in better soundproofing.

This peace, even if it was fragile and hinged on the conditional generosity of understandably mistrustful organic aliens, was the start of what they had wanted all along. It wasn’t ideal, but the Decepticons had always been skilled at the art of “making do.”

Megatron should have been here, with him, helping him herd their soldiers into the future, into the beginnings of everything they had ever wanted.

The promise of no longer hiding their sparks in the shadows behind professionalism and the chain of command.

One of Io’s volcanoes began to smoke, indicative of an impending eruption. The lack of a thick, obscuring atmosphere meant much of the surface geological activity was visible to the optics, even from orbit. The moon’s thin blanket of sulfur dioxide gas left nothing to the imagination.

While Soundwave’s spark had not yet forgotten Megatron’s defection, his betrayal, the righteous hurt did nothing to alleviate the lonely chill without his presence.

He knew that, if the opportunity arose, he would welcome Megatron back with his arms wide open.

[penny-anna]

 “This isn’t all of it, though. Right?”

“No – not even close,” Emmett told him. “It’s like I said – every single star is a sun, and many of them have planets orbiting them. As far as our current scientific understanding goes, Earth is the only planet capable of supporting life.” He shifted Venus a little further around its orbit. “And then stars form structures known as galaxies – and galaxies, in turn, form galaxy clusters.”

“Huh.” Marty hopped onto the next spoke, treating the orrery like his own climbing frame. “How far up does it go?”

“All the way, I suppose,” said Emmett. “The universe is theoretically infinite in size.”

“Far out.” Pushing at the spoke below him with his foot, working it back and forth, Marty heaved a sigh. “Doc. I don’t like that.”

“Really?” He made another small adjustment to the orrery. “Personally, I take great comfort in the insignificance of my existence within the unfathomable scale of the universe.” He leaned on the workbench, bringing his head down level with Marty’s eyeline. “You know, in the grand scheme of things, every single living creature on earth is infinitesimally small. On a cosmic scale you and I are essentially of a size. Isn’t that interesting?”

“If you say so,” said Marty, legs dangling on either side of a spoke.

“Now,” he said, reaching to toy with Jupiter. “If you want to –”

Almost the moment he moved his hand, with a yelp Marty tumbled from the orrery, hitting the workbench and rolling away. He snatched his hand back, startled. He hadn’t touched the kid – he was certain he hadn’t touched him.

Looking at Marty, still lying on the tabletop, breathing hard, he realised what had happened. He hadn’t touched him. That had been a purposeful drop-and-roll.

At his expression, Marty screwed up his face. “Ah, shit,” he said, picking himself up. “I’m sorry –”

“I – didn’t mean to,” he said. “I wasn’t gonna touch you –”

“I know – I know,” Marty said. “Sorry –”

“I was only going to –”

“You startled me.” Marty was looking up at him, his shoulders tense, breath still coming hard. “You’re – real big. And you startled me. I’m sorry.”

hello hello i finished this thing! very niche self-indulgent bttf/borrowers fusion fic. i have named it 'on a cosmic scale' around 43k, coming to an ao3 near YOU in 9 chapters very soon!!

[bio-nerds-corner]

Star Singer

the first of, perhaps, five unfinished fics. i do hope that ,even inspite of the parts that arent done, you enjoy this :)

soft vore, extreme size difference. isolation, perhaps fear of the void?

~6000 words

Nine-Metis. Home sweet fucking home. One of the larger nickel-iron mines within the asteroid-belt, and Wilbur’s new home for the next three years. An entire lump of rock in space all to his own. Fantastic.

Stepping from the transport shuttle airlock into the airlock of the mining operations center, he frowned a little at the grime and oil inlaid in the metal flooring, and the way that the air was far too cold for human comfort. Thank God he had put on his cardigan when the shuttle had arrived, it was clear much of the auxiliary life support systems were left on low-power. 

The air pump wheezed and caught with a ragged cough of space dust, before registering a clear-to-entry sigil on the inner door of the airlock. Wilbur considered turning around and fucking off back to his home Orbit Station right then and there. Surely even Somnus, with its choking population and underwhelming job prospects, would be better than being blasted into space halfway to Jupiter? 

Do it for the money. Do it for Dad.

He stepped into the mining control center, looking around at the stale air that seemed to sparkle with ice crystals, none of the lights yet on and the only light visible was a pale dull glow of the faraway sun coming through the shaded windows. 

Wilbur pushed his way through the zero-gravity corridor, pulling his tablet from his pocket as he went to try and pull up one of the billion schematics that Astero-idea Mining Corp had sent him along with the job confirmation notice. One of these ought to be the layout of the mining operation center…

Ah, there it was. Heating was a floor up. Set up so the living quarters would be coziest, while he could freeze his balls off whenever he had to go down to the machine storage areas to work.

His job wasn’t glamorous. If anything, he was mostly a glorified machine baby-sitter. His job was to sit here for three years, keep the mining equipment happy, and occasionally send reports home about the quality of the meteor dust that it grinds up. Easy enough. 

It also was supposedly the kind of job that changes the person who takes it forever. The kind that drives those to isolation madness, the kind of loneliness that cannot even be fathomed by the rest of the human race. 

But hey, it paid really well as a result. And Wilbur needed it. He could deal with a little homesickness every once in a while, right?

Right.

There was a sudden heavy clunk that reverberated through the cold dark center that almost sent him jumping into the ceiling-wall panel, and he had kicked off back towards the sound before realizing it was probably the outer airlock disengaging from the transport shuttle, sending the now empty vehicle to dock in the shipping supply bay to refuel for the journey back. 

The sound did attract his attention to the starscape around the meteor that was now his home, however. He knew that he would be able to see other tiny asteroids from his place on Metis, but he had never imagined how they might sparkle and shimmer like miniature moons.  He thinks he could get used to a sight like that, but for now he would drink in the marvel of such an experience. 

    There was something curious about one of the closer meteors though… As if there was something stretched over the surface. Was there another meteor mining operation so close to his own base? Maybe he wouldn’t have to feel totally lonely after all?

    He squinted some more. No… It didn’t seem like a base. He had gotten a good look at the shape of the center when the transport shuttle had arrived, and that dark patch seemed more…

    Organic. Like an outstretched bird’s wing, or some large and elaborately finned fish.

    He blinked a few times, and the shape’s organic shape dissolved into patches of light and shadow against the tiny meteor. Just a trick of the eye.

    Abruptly he was feeling the cold again, and pushed the neighbor meteor’s curious shape out of his mind as he went back to fire up the auxiliary life support on this rock.

…

(feeling lonely, getting into the groove of working there. It mainly involves watching over a bunch of robots that shuttle in piles of dust. He tries to fashion it like he’s a shepherd, and the machines his flock. He grows tired of the joke by the end of that day though. Establish his singing - he does it a LOT while bored because the dull machine silence of the habitat would just drive him crazy otherwise)

Hello?

Wilbur full-body flinches. Then whips around to stare at the dark corners of the room, searching for something living amongst the floating piles of rubble and disassembled drill-bits that threatened to float out of arm’s reach. Nothing. 

Hello?

There it was again. Right at the edge of his hearing, bordering on the unhearable. Did he just imagine it? He might have just imagined it.

Can you hear me?

This is fine. Just fine. Everyone’s heard of the exhaustion catching up to the average asteroid worker, the way the isolation causes auditory hallucinations. He’s just having a minor one. It’ll clear up after he gets some rest. 

Hello, Wilbur.

He’ll break open an extra caff pack tomorrow morning. He deserves it. Especially after sleeping through the night with all of the lights on.

You can hear me.

…

Wilbur had decided, after much groaning, to reclassify his brief mental break as ‘ongoing’ after the third experience of hearing something whispering to him right at the edge of his hearing. He had honestly hoped that he would be able to avoid the ‘meteor madness’ everyone talked about for more than three months, he had really expected more from himself. 

After the fourth instance of hearing voices whisper from the walls of the inner hull of the station, he decided that, what the hell, there was nobody else here to listen to him other than the mineral auger drill bits hes still got to polish and replace. So he answered back.

“Yea yea yea, I hear you, I’m here, I’m here. Could you speak up?” He called out to nothing in particular, taking the time to stop squinting at the newsfeed burst that had come through for this week (all some dumb political dick measuring contest happening back on one of the Venus orbiters, he really didn’t care about it but there wasn't much reading material out on a space rock like this) and stretching out his back in a cacophony of pops.

There was a couple of moments of silence that made him feel like an idiot, straining his ears only to hear the faint hum and chuff of the ventilation system. Then -

How about now?

The voice was extremely clear now, loud enough that it made Wilbur twist and stare wildly behind him. He could almost hear the breath that his mind had inserted into the voice, the inhalation that preceded those words.

As his heart slowed down from a race, he muttered a “fuck” under his breath. “Please- Please don’t do that again. Please.” For now there was too much adrenaline in his bloodstream for him to think of how ridiculous it was that he was begging with his own now obvious case of meteor madness. 

Ok Wilbur.

And with that it had faded back into a far-away echo.

Wilbur didn’t read another two words from the news burst that day, and decided to turn on some loud music over the intercoms of the station instead.  

…

hes really lonely. And one night on his time off he ends up sleepwalking to one of the larger windows on the small base and he… sees…. Something that looks like more than reflected rock on one of the asteroids. Something with enormous wings that glitter like comet trails

he doesnt see it again for a while. He starts hearing things though.

he tries to mention it to his family, but apparently isolation issues are a common thing with asteroid workers (inspo from antarctic workers?). dad puts it aside.

…

[This Call Has Been Inactive for [30] Minutes - Disconnecting in [5] Minutes To Save Broadband]

Fucking Tommy. He had planned this for a week, had done the time conversion to Earth Orbit schedule, everything. He’d even fucking called into his supervisors to get the long-range call times double-checked so he wouldn’t end up with his signal blocked by Mars or something. And Tommy hadn’t picked up.

Wilbur pushed out of the zero-gravity hammock contraption that acted as his chair with a groan that edged into a scream around the edges. He had looked forward to this for so long, long enough that he no longer cared that it sounded pathetic that this was the only thing he was looking forward to at all in recent memory.

“My own fucking brother! Standing me up on a call! Can you fucking believe it!” He yelled at the ceiling, rocking his head back and leaning back as far as the ‘chair’ would allow. He kind of wanted to kick something. Or bite something. Preferably Tommy. 

The on-screen display ticked the [4] minutes and he closed it dejectedly. If Tommy wasn’t showing up right on time, he wasn’t ever going to show up. What kind of excuse would he give, Wilbur wondered. He hoped it was at least elaborate enough to make up for his rapidly plummeting mood.

Hopefully at least the voice will chat with him later today. 

...

Today was shipping day, the anti-Christmas as they (as in he, and absolutely nobody else) called it. The day where all of those rock-dust filled capsules had to be packed into the homeward bound shuttle, and where he had to spend fourteen hours scrambling over boxes and completing checklists in making sure everything was properly labeled and accounted for and the rockets weren’t about to blow up and destroy millions of dollars worth of raw material (and maybe also him). And then after that he got to spend another four hours filling out more forms to pack with them asking for the higher ups at home to maybe please send some more mining equipment, and also food? 

Shipping day fucking blows. If it weren’t for the voice intermittently coming in and keeping him company (and how weird is that, how can a hallucination keep you company?) during those long and backbreaking hours he might have just given up on even writing the worker-products request slips and slept for two days straight. As it were...

Why do you need to request for food? 

“Well, voice in my head,” he said as he tugged at his foot, which had caught itself between two 600 pound capsules that bobbed around like balloons in the null gravity and might just crush him by their sheer inertia, “If I don’t put in the request then they can’t have enough ready to send back next time they send the delivery shuttle. And if they don’t send enough then I’ll have starved to death before the next one can arrive.”

That is silly. Isn’t the sun bright and beautiful from out here?

“I can’t exactly eat the sun, and no. This is pathetic compared to a summer’s day back home.”

Can you tell me about summers?

“I’m probably not the best person to answer, given I had them in England, but I can try.” The foot came free, and he hurried to keep the capsules from drifting too far with a couple of tether cables that he attached to the inner carapace of the delivery shuttle. 

Thank you Wilbur.

…

With the shuttle barely another glimmer of light to hide among the stars, Wilbur couldn’t help but stare out at it. That was the only way home, before his tenure was up at least. With each shipping day come and gone, the desire to huddle himself and a couple of tanks of oxygen up in the spaces between the capsules and try to survive the two month journey back to the nearest meteor processing center grew more enticing. As if he would ever survive the trip, without suffocating or getting crushed by one of the shipping pallets or running out of food. 

Besides, this paid good money. He needed to keep reminding himself of that. Money was hard to remember when he had nothing to spend it on, after all.

He tried to squint at it one more time, just one more before he would go and finally get his much-needed rest, but his tired eyes drifted and he found himself watching one of the smaller asteroids that orbited far off. It glittered slightly in the weak sunlight, and it was close enough that he could see it tumbling very slowly end-over-end. 

He stifled a yawn, about to turn and leave, when he detected the faintest movement from the meteor that wasn’t consistent with its orbit. He was abruptly awake and aware, squinting as hard as he could at it. There was something… dark, cast against the surface of the meteor. He could barely see it stretch into the void above the meteor, but with the blotting out of a nearby star he could almost see… wings?

Wings, like the ones he had seen that one night so long ago, a shape that seemed more at home flitting around in the Earth sky than the darkness of empty space.

He hesitates before, in a feat of exhausted reasoning, he waves an arm at it as if he were hailing a spaceship.

Hello Wilbur! 

He froze mid-wave. Did the voice in his head just… 

The shape on the meteor changed slightly and, against the deep blackness of space he could almost see… an arm? It must be an arm, but of impossibly large size to be seen from so far away. It mimicked his wave.

“Is that you?” He asked, immediately feeling dumb about it. Probably visual hallucinations again. 

(But… He had seen the wings before…)

Yes! I have come to live closer! What was the small flying thing? 

His arm dropped to float in the zero-gravity air, his heartbeat suddenly pounding hard and fast in his ears. The voice was real. There was something out there. Was it aliens? Was he first contact with alie-

No. He had to take this logically. And the logical thing was that he was just having an exhaustive hallucination because he just spent an entire day doing hard work, both physically and mentally.  

He needed sleep.Without much fanfare, he located the nearest decently soft surface and collapsed on it as much as one could without gravity.

Ok Wilbur. I’ll be here when you wake up.

…

And it was still there the next time he woke. Inexplicably, there was a dark shape upon a nearby meteor that was utterly unexplainable. That is, unless it was…

Hello again Wilbur!

“That’s you.” He pointed out at the shape again.

Yes! 

The voice sounded a little bemused, and he realized he had probably asked that question already. He still had to ask it again. “Are you sure that is you? And not some… other… space… thingy?”

The voice actually laughed, less a sound and more a feeling that fluttered around the inside of his skull like a trapped bird. 

It’s only me Wilbur. I think I would know if there were anyone else.

He was half way into eating a bowl of something he would be generous and call scrambled eggs when the uncertain calm he had been feeling upon waking up breaks like poorly-made glass. He’s conversing with an alien, who is not a hallucination. 

“Holy fuck! I’m talking with an alien!” He cried aloud, because why not, he’s already being pretty pedantic this morning. 

Another laugh, gentler.

Can I come closer?

“Oh, of course you can!” He was up and out of his seat, letting the spoon spin freely in the air as he swung towards the window and peered out desperately. Like a kid in a candy store, he laughed to himself.

The shape on the meteor moved, and to his amazement grew closer. And larger.

A lot larger.

As it approached one of the closest nearby meteors that took up large chunks of the ‘sky’ for Wilbur, he could see it was easily able to dwarf not only him, but probably the entire base he lived on and all of the machines that swarmed it.

He was panicking now, something animal in him violently rejecting the concept of something inhumanly large and dark flying towards him through the silent void of space. Before the - he couldn’t call it a voice anymore, it was an alien, it had a body  - could, he didn’t know, leap from the next meteor towards his own, it stopped. 

You’re scared.

He probably should be more worried about how easily the alien was able to determine his mental state, but he could only manage a nod. “Can you… stay there for now?”

Ok Wilbur.

He took a few stabilizing breaths, letting his heart settle, and leaned in closer to the window. With the alien now closer, he could see a little more of its body. For one, it was massive on a scale that baffled him. Human brains weren’t really meant to interpret such large scales, but he could tell that a living being and a crater should not be of comparable size.

He eventually calls it Sally. It says that it likes him. That he’s funny. He doesnt know why he feels so happy that an auditory hallucination that is brought on by asteroid isolation called him ‘funny.’ 

He mentions Sally in passing on one of his calls back home. Everyone is concerned because clearly hes having a mental break.

Finally, he starts to get desperate enough and starts asking Sally if it (now she) will come visit him. That he is so lonely and that he loves talking to her and if she was on that asteroid maybe they could see eachother? Sally laughs and tells him that she’s always been seeing him. But yes, she can come.

He’s never been so delighted and excited. This is the most energetic hes been in months, since he took this job even, maybe even beforehand.

...

Are you ready?

“I’ve been ready all morning, Sally. I’ve been so excited.”

Good. Come on out, I’m here.

He had the EVA suit on already, had been sitting impatiently in it for hours at this point. The helmet was pressed to his knees, and he now hurriedly put it on and sealed it tight. Without a second thought he checked his oxygen (2 hours, not too bad but would mean he probably would have to come in and trade out tanks a few times) and the seal on the suit. He lifted his tether rope and hooked it to his suit, and floated into the airlock. Sally was right here! Right outside the door!

He bounced from one hand-hold to another, as impatient as a small kid, and wished that the airlock cycle would just happen faster, damn it! Why couldn’t he just open up the door right away, he didn’t need this air that it was pumping out. Not when Sally was right there.

Wilbur?

“I’m almost there, I promise I promise,” he placated, smiling widely at just the sound of her voice. 

The airlock at long last finished cycling, and he pushed at the outer door with a bit more force than he probably needed. Without sound in space he couldn’t hear the clang of it hitting the outer edge of its hinges’ range of motion, but he could certainly feel the jolt. He giddily scanned the dark and endless sky for a hint of those comet-light wings, the flash of red and green. “Sally?”

You have to come out further, Wilbur. I’m just a little further out.

Of course, of course. Stupid of him to think otherwise. He’s getting ahead of himself. That’s why he brought the tethers along in the first place after all. He reluctantly tore his eyes from space and, with the hand not holding onto the open airlock door, clipped the other end of the tether to one of the many hooks bored into the surface of the asteroid. He let the rest of the line run slack and, carefully closing the airlock door behind him, prepared to jump. 

The gravitational pull of asteroids was minimal, which is why basically everything he owned was made for zero g. There was some pull, enough that it might eventually drag him back down, but if he jumped far enough it would be as if there was none at all, at least long enough for him to find Sally. He jumped, and felt the tether spool out behind him. 100 meters, 200 meters, 350 meters… and it caught him with a jolt at the end of the line.

Then a knot somewhere along the tether, tied with not nearly enough care by excited fingers, pulled loose. The reassuring tug of the tether back down to the asteroid was released and, with a feeling of horror, Wilbur felt himself float a little further than the 350 meters he’d been allotted. He couldn’t even turn around to grab the rope again - the knot was another 30 meters down. 

He flailed and thrashed for a moment like it was his first day in space. “No!” He cried out, seeing his end of the tether whip around and curl in circles around his kicking legs in languid spirals. No air in space meant his movements resulted in no change to his trajectory, which appeared to be up and out. 

So caught up in his terror, it took him a moment to hear Sally.

Wilbur! I am here. Please do not be afraid. I will help you.

Sally. Sally. That’s right. Sally who did not live inside of the asteroid. Who could help him. What amazing luck that there would be someone on the other side of the airlock who could help him right when he needed it most. 

He turned himself around, automatically pointing himself towards the asteroid he had first seen Sally at and.

She was there. So many wings that burned like liquid light and soaked up the sun’s rays so completely that she became a star herself. A fish-like tail that flicked in slow strokes in the empty space, covered in scales that gleamed as bright red as the great jovian storms. A face with all of the love and kindness and power that he had grown to know of her in all of this time. 

His love, Sally. He burst out crying at the sight of it.

Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur… She crooned in her head. You came out for me. You came to me. Thank you my love, thank you my heart.

He couldn’t stop the tears that messily wet the inside of his helmet for even a moment as he stared in awe and adoration at her perfect face. She reached forward with hands the size of ships to cup around him gently, plucking him out from the open space so easily. 

I have so much to show you. 

She opened her mouth, exposing teeth the size of moon landers and a darkness as absolute as a black hole, and he let himself be consumed totally.

…

Wilbur, take my hand. I want to show you something. 

They were sitting on a boat, floating in the ocean. It bobbed gently under his feet, the scent of salt was sharp in the air. The sun was just hitting the 

He looked over at Sally. She was (blonde-haired black-haired tall short dimpled freckled) beautiful and exactly as he had always imagined her. She was smiling to him, feet kicking beneath her as she rocked on the boat’s bench. Her hand was outstretched.

He took a moment to soak in the sunlight, the beautiful sea air, her beaming face, and he took her hand. She stood up, pulling him with him, and they walked over to the edge of the boat.

Look down, Wilbur. Take a look at the sea.

He looked down. The sea was dark as wine, endlessly deep, and yet he couldn’t focus on the dark depths. His gaze was caught on the tiny sediments that glittered in the setting sun’s light, the tiny silvery fish that nipped at the craggy side of the rocking boat. Tiny sparkles of light against an unfathomable void.

He pointed it out to Sally. Look at the little fish, look at the sand and tiny floating plankton. Isn’t it beautiful? She laughed so beautifully, and nudged him.

Aren’t you so silly? Those are so small and close. Do you always see the little close things as the most beautiful? I have so much more to show you.

She pulled on his hand. Encouraging him to lean forward more. The ocean was so close now -

Wilbur tumbled forward into the ocean, which leaped forward to catch him in a warm and gentle embrace. It wrapped him up and held him so closely and he rejoiced in the sheer physicality of it all. So different from the quiet, the cold, the dead feeling of space -

Space? Why is he thinking about space? He’s in the ocean.

Beside him, Sally splashed down into the water with a flurry of bubbles, and through the inherent murkiness of the sea water he could see her smile gleam brighter. She tugged him down a little more, pulling on his billowing clothes. 

We need to go further down, Wilbur. I want to show you so much more than you know. 

So he followed her. He kicked feebly against the sea water, pulled further down by the weight of his sodden clothes, but he wasn’t able to keep up with the strong and confident kicks of his love.

Please help me, Sally. I don’t want to fall behind. He called with a voice that shouldn’t exist underwater, watching her disappear into the darkness underneath him. Panicking, he thrashed harder, trying to overcome a lack of ability in the water with pure stubbornness.

Come here Wilbur. I’ll show you.

All around him tendrils of glowing ghostly light, like trails of phosphorescent salps, reached out of the void to wrap around him. In the heart of them was Sally, smiling ever so beautifully. 

I’ll help you. Come and see.

And he was pulled down into the dark, leaving behind the boat and the bright surface and the setting sun for the endless void. 

The dark was beautiful. A crystal depth that was so unlike the endless vacuum of space. He could feel that press of water around him and, even more present, that of Sally. He had drawn closer to her and her self-assured swimming rhythm, knotted in the glowing tendrils like he was caught in a jellyfish’s tangle. 

She pointed off into the encroaching darkness. Look, Wilbur. Please look.

He saw.

Civilizations living and dying like sparkling plankton. Solar winds blasting out in bellows that reflect across wings leagues across. Asteroids, hundreds of thousands of kilometers apart, and yet each one like a friend and neighbor to her.

Ships passing her by like fretful silvery fish, too blind to her to hear her call, her curiosity. Drills breaking into asteroids, so different, so small… 

Her, perched in her asteroid, her nest in this oceanic astral life of hers, reaching forward to see if she could catch the tiny krill that live and die in those tiny glass and metal bubbles… 

A small creature, barely a copepod, planktonic in his powerless tumble through the tides of the universe, reaching back. He sings so sweetly in his tiny tones, finding a fraction of the beauty in the universe that she experiences every day. And yet, those tiny reedy tones, things that only she could hear and which would never echo unending across the galaxy in gravity-distorting tones, were precious gifts in of themselves. 

She reached out and plucked him from his metal habitat, careful of his fragile body not meant for such depths as what she lives in. He sees her, and she carefully takes her little gift back with her to her asteroid. 

Something just for her. A song with notes that are so very small.

A song that can only feel the edges of her own tones without being drowned out entirely, for she does not want him to have to yell in order to be heard at all. 

Wilbur, little ballad-maker, will you sing me another song?

He spun in the reassuring pull of tentacles around him, and in the voice of one untethered from simple vocal chords, Wilbur sang of the majesty of the stars.

...

Wilbur awoke with tears crusted thickly on his cheeks. All around him was a tight and dark warmth, not in the darkness of space but of something comforting and living. The darkness of an overturned log, lush with life, rather than that of an endless cave system. 

“Sally?” He managed, croaking out through a voice that had splintered in every direction. The pressing warmth around him held tighter, like a crushing hug that he had so dearly desired for so long. He let himself melt under the sensation, the warmth that sank into his bones for the first time since he had left Earth, the softness that he had been so devoid of in the sharp grey walls of the asteroid mine.

His body apparently still had tears to give, as when he leaned back into the softness even more he could feel his vision slip out of focus behind a film of tears in the warm orange light.

Wait. Light?

He blinked furiously and, with enormous willpower, leaned up and out of the cozy comfort that cradled him. Held in his hands, pressed against his chest in a dense hot ball that was dampened only slightly by the EVA suit he was still wearing, was what looked to be a tiny star. It shined and glimmered with vermillion, and even as he watched it the glowing ball shifted. 

It was alive.

Carefully he held it closer and could feel, beneath the obscuring bright light, limbs press against the suit and a head tuck into the side of his suit’s life support control panel. He didn’t realize he was holding on so tightly to it until that moment, and he didn’t have the willpower to let go.

Wilbur? Her voice almost... echoed, like it was bouncing off of the endless cavern that resided within her.

His head popped up automatically, and he smiled on instinct. Sally! 

Do you trust me?

With my life, my love. Where are you? What’s going on?

Remove your helmet.

But… wouldn’t that, y’know, kill him? Last he checked he was on the wrong side of the airlock, the endless void of space. Though, it was warm and soft and oh so comforting, so different from the death that had always been promised by its endless expanse.

You said you trusted me. I will keep you safe.

His grip loosened on the star held against his chest, and drifted up to his helmet. With barely a thought he broke the seal on it and the air rushed out in one fatal blast. He should’ve been unconscious in less than fifteen seconds, oxygen starvation quickly turning his brain off and sending him into a downward spiral towards a cold and lonely death. 

He couldn’t breathe, there was no air but the wispy remains of what was in his suit’s tanks, and yet… wherever he was, it didn’t matter.

I told you so. 

Yes, she did. Why did he even doubt for a second? He tried his best to wiggle out of the EVA suit, which was definitely not built to be wiggled out of. He made do with awkwardly freeing his arms so he could better cradle the star that was now lying more comfortably against his chest. It seemed to solidify further with the skin contact, and he could see a muzzle of a soft earth animal, a swishing tail, large eyes that shined like quasars. 

He hugged it close as much as he could. “Sally?” He called again.

Do you like them? I made them for you. A child. 

“A child? Ours? They are… They’re beautiful.” It was ridiculous, and some part of his brain seemed to slip out of the elated state it was caught up in. “Wait. A child? Like, one of your kind?”

Not quite. Almost, though. I want them to be able to live with you, not out in the stars like I must. I want something from me to always be with you, even when we are apart.

A thing made of star-stuff and scales and human flesh, something that could only have hatched in the close warmth and suffocating darkness, rather than the endless depths of space. A planet-creature, not a void-creature

Wilbur names him Fundy. As he gives him a name and continues to cuddle him close, his shape becomes more and more solid, more and more a creature of the earth.

Sally’s stomach is, as he begins to adjust more and more to the soft light, more like an entire crater, an endless expanse so large that he nestled quite comfortably within one fold. As he watches he can see dust and rock disintegrate in the far sides, lumps of metal and plastic that are all that remain of 9-Metis mining station, having been carved from the asteroid and chewed up for having deprived Wilbur so much, knowing to the depths of his heart that he is in no similar danger. 

He knows he could live here forever, safe and protected and so very close to Sally’s heart.

Sally starts to feel unsure of herself as a result, realizing that what Wilbur needed far more than her love, her coveting of him as a most precious jewel, was his own people. His mind had splintered in a way, becoming reliant on her own to keep its shape, and even as it leaked song and light for her to enjoy she knew that if she truly loved him she needed to bring him home.

She asks for one last song from him, dancing with him in a dream. He is far enough gone that he cannot tell just how bittersweet the dream had become around him, wrapping him up in pain and love in equal measures.

We are almost there.

Sally seemed sad. Why was she sad? Where were they going? He didn’t know if he said it aloud or not but Sally seemed to hear it nonetheless.

I need to bring you home. You miss your family.

But what about you? Sally, I cannot miss them when I am with you. 

And that is why.

What is going on? Wilbur pulled Fundy closer, quietly shushing the small child as they nipped at the loose fabric of his EVA suit. Did he do something wrong?

I’ll miss you Wilbur. Thank you for letting me 

No… no… Sally was leaving? No no no this cannot be happening. He didn’t want to leave. Please don’t make him leave he doesn’t want to leave he refuses to leave -

The warm cradle of muscle around him flexed and hardened into steel, and the comforting press turned claustrophobic. What was once endless and magnificent closed around him like a cave-in, and he yelled into Fundy’s fur and curled into a tight ball that Sally forced him into. There was a terrific yank feeling as the tether cord that he had long forgotten went taught and dragged him upwards, tangling and knotting around him.

He felt the frigid cold first, less from a temperature and more from a lack thereof as the warmth and protection Sally gave him dissipated, then the crackle of drying spit that held him in a tightening shell. He blinked open eyes and uncurled as he was tangled in the tether cable and caught in Sally’s outstretched hands. Without the protection of a shaded helmet he could see her even clearer, the tiny scales larger than his outstretched palm dappling her face, the hundreds of lacey wings that were thicker than the toughest skyhook cable spiralling out from her in long strands into the enormity of space. Compared to her, the 320 meter cable that had seemed so sturdy was like a strand of spider silk.

He’d never felt so small, not even when he had been all alone in the void. Somehow, it seemed so much larger when he got to see someone who truly belonged out here, someone for whom these endless pelagic open seas were home.

He didn’t belong out here. That’s why Sally was making him go.

Fundy whined inaudibly in his arms, the sound echoing on the inside of his head, and pushed their snout under his head into the crook of his neck. He held them closer to hide his shivering, the despair that had burst inside of him and threatened to swallow him whole more absolutely than Sally had. 

I will miss you. I won’t forget you. But you cannot stay with me.

Don’t go! He wanted to scream it, to try and pry open Sally’s mouth and find somewhere to curl up in within her, where it was dark and he knew a glimpse of the true universe, but whatever was allowing him to stay unaffected by the vacuum of space didn’t seem to extend to allowing him speech in the void.  Please don’t let me go, please don’t leave me out here, I need you.

Sally looked sad, in a quiet way that shivered up through her wings. 

You need to be with your people again. Please take care of Fundy. Raise them well.

She oh-so-delicately untangled the cable from her hand, pinching the loose folds of his EVA suit gently and letting him drift in zero-g. He kicked as much as he could, but he couldn’t truly flail and try to keep a grip on her hand without letting go of Fundy, which he couldn’t risk.

Sally’s gaze finally left his, and she looked around her. Her vast dark eyes gleamed with distant stars, and her trailing light-filled fins flicked. 

They are almost here. You are going to go home. I hope you live well, little Wilbur.

Before he could try to shout out something, anything to beg her to stay or at least say goodbye in return, all of the enormous wings on her bag expanded, and she flicked her tail and sank into the darkness again. He tried so hard to follow her form as it moved quicker than any ship he had ever seen, but his panicked flailing had left him in a rotating drift that made him unable to keep his eyes on her.

    And then, like an unwary fly on a long highway, he smacked bodily against the front of a cargo spacecraft.

Hes brought aboard, seemingly miraculously still alive despite being hundreds of thousands of miles from Metis, and to his surprise its his family. Sally had brought him close enough to them that he is reunited immediately.

He can’t stop holding close to fundy as hes asked how exactly he was there, what happened, they heard something happened to the station, is he ok? 

All he can do is cry, heartbroken about Sally.

[aza-writes]

Fun/Random facts about me!

My real name isn’t Aza. She was the first oc I created

My profile pic is Lizzie Hearts because my favorite book is Heartless by Marissa Meyer

To describe how I look with a marvel character: Kate Bishop

My favorite books are Turtles All the Way Down by John Green, Orbiting Jupiter by Gary D. Schmidt, and Heartless by Marissa Meyer

I imagine all my oc’s in every show and movie I watch to see how they would behave in different situations to help me better develop their personalities

I love Metallica and the fact people are listening to them after Stranger Things makes me SO happy

I listen to every type of music

I love conspiracy theories even if I don’t believe in them because I just think they’re fun

I’m a picky eater

I live vicariously through reading and writing

I won a fiction writing contest at my college

I eat peanut butter and banana toast every day if I can

I REFUSE to use the word “lover” in a fic🤢

I love rain but I hate the feeling of water on my skin and I’m terrified of the ocean

I say “kk” ALL the time and I don’t plan on stopping

Everything I know about DC is from @moonfrost41

I believe that good stories evoke emotion but most of the time that emotion should be genuine. I hate happy endings because they aren’t real. A realistic ending doesn’t have to be happy or sad, it brings you satisfaction with the stories end.

I hope this gives you some insight in my life and see a bit of why I write what I do!

[singingcookie]

Fanfic Q&A!

Thank you for the tag @encyclopika, sorry I'm oh so very late getting back to it 😅

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Good question uhhhh 55???? That seems like way more than I thought it would be....

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

523,858 words! Granted over half of that is just my slow burn story so lol

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily I've written for My Hero Academia (40 out of the total 55). But I've also written for Kingdom Hearts, The World Ends With You, and more recently Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Oh that's a good question let's see...

Drops of Jupiter (829)

A Princess's Dilemma (381)

Within Arms Reach (378)

One Plus One Does Not Equal a Date (Probably?) (303)

I Roll to Seduce (296)

I'm...genuinely shocked one of my LoZ fics is up there??? And so high??? 1, 3, 4, and 5 are all from my hero fanfics which is not surprising and most of them are super old. Number 2 I only posted in June and it was my first fic for LoZ so that's...interesting to say the least.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! The last year or so I've had a hard time working up the energy or finding the words to respond to comments, sometimes. But whenever I do gather up the energy to do it, I tend to answer everything in my inbox in one fell swoop! And I always really appreciate getting them so tbh sometimes I feel bad that it can take so much energy to reply....

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh gosh idk if I have anything that qualifies as an angsty ending lol. Maybe Tarantism (a KH fic) because it's supposed to be feelsy and then the ending is one of those "it's just a dream" things haha.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Happiest...probably A Family's Orbit? The story has married izuocha with their first kid who they're not sure when or if she'll have a Quirk of her own. But the one-shot ends pretty happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Hmmmm I've gotten a handful of complaints on Drops of Jupiter, on occasion. Usually just people telling me I'm going too slow (when I put in the author's notes of the very first chapter that it's "the slowest of slow burns" smh). Or this one time someone told me I didn't give Deku enough victories in the fic and it would be way better if I did.

Outside of that though, I can't think of any on my other stuff. I've been blessed with very kind commentors, I think.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I've written a couple for Izuocha. But yknow usually, in all honesty, I've only ever written smut out of spite? The two fics I have (Burning Heat and Homecoming) were written in opposition to fandom tendencies at the time. Mostly everyone was talking about Izuku like someone who was a sex addict/sex god and Ochako was just kind of there. And I said "actually I think Deku's on the ace spectrum and probably mostly just cares about pleasing his partner than anything" and thus they were born. I haven't reread them in ages though that said lol

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Generally, no. However, about a year or so ago I got really into twewy again because I had just finished playing NEO:The World Ends With You. So I came up with a concept that kind of meshes twewy's concept with the my hero world? I only have one chapter posted of Death By Proxy so far, but I have an outline and little details written down whenever I'm in the right headspace for it. For what it's worth, you don't really need to know about twewy to read it, because Izuku finds out how everything works at the same time you do lol

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. Here's hoping it stays that way lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of? I've never been asked about it anyway.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not explicitly? I feel like I help out my friends with their stories and vice versa, but not really.

Oh!

Although once upon a time me and a friend (you know who you are) wrote a KH fanfic together but I guess that was moreso just for us than anything else lol

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Probably Izuocha, just going by the numbers.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Hmmm probably Eri-sitting? I really want to finish it at some point, and I posted the first part with every intention of doing it. But I never figured out the way I wanted to start chapter 2. Maybe someday though. Also!!! I did start writing a fanfic based off of heroes of the dark, but I didn't end up finishing it because it contrasted how the story ended and I thought completing that would be in poor taste with that said lol

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmmm I've always found dialogue and characterization comes easier to me than I think it does to most others? There's always been discussions I've seen where people are like "oh sometimes the characters just do what they want" and I've never really...had that happen? Or at least not in a way that completely alters a story like I've seen people say. Little actions or pieces of dialogue that take me by surprise, sure, but like never anything that completely alters a plot beat I had planned. But usually at least for me, the plot beats are so centered around who they are or how they act that the odds of them veering off course are incredibly slim, if that makes sense

God I'm rambling uh dialogue and characterization I guess was my point haha.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably description is the thing I have the hardest time with. Some people are so good at writing a setting and making everything seem so like immersive in that way. For me, I don't see the point in describing something unless it's like relevant and so my description tends to be very to the point.

Also estimating a story's length. Usually I come up with a concept and then I'll say "oh yeah this'll only be this long" and then I start writing and writing and realize I had a lot more to say than I thought I did initially. This has happened a handful of times now haha

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic.

I definitely don't see anything wrong with it. I usually only do it for small phrases, myself, but partially because I'm not fluent in anything except for English. And I generally try to do some research or I'll check with friends if I have any who speak the language I'm using.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Kingdom Hearts! Back in the days of yore, yours truly actually wrote KH retellings with OCs back on quizilla lmao. I wrote quite a lot back then although with how long it's been most of the things I posted on there don't exist anymore. But that was back during 8th grade when I started.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Oh hmm I don't know. I feel like favorites is tough because I like a lot of my stories but for different reasons. I'm exceedingly proud of Drops of Jupiter for example. And I think it's been a true adventure to write and does have some of my best work in it as a result.

But I also think some of the prose and concepts I've made for Call From the Wild has a special place in my heart. It's very different from...basically anything else I've ever written because most ever other fic is "modern" in a manner of speaking and this was my first time writing something that's...decidedly not lol. I also think I'm fond of it because it's adhering to canon while allowing me the creativity to come up with how certain things happened since the details before the Calamity in botw are pretty limited...

Basically I guess my favorite kind of fic I've written is anything that really allows me to go nuts creatively.

Thanks so much for sending this! I don't have anyone in particular I want to tag, but if any of my followers fill it out, please tag me so I can see it!

[hollyschit]

“I will orbit around you”

Author’s note: while i did want to try write these oneshots/stories without an mc name, I decided that I prefer to write with naming my characters. So introducing Lila.

I choose Lila because it’s derived from lilac which as we all know is purple. So borahae BTS and here is to my favourite guys.

Also this fic engages with littlespace and caregivers. Please familiarizr yourself with the concept before commenting.

Soft purple lights flitted around the nursery to draw out an elaborate galaxy, as Lila slept soundly with a bunny tucked under arm. Space and the galaxy was one of Lila’s newfound interests since Namjoon and Jungkook took her to the plantetarium to see the pretty planets and stars.

—planetarium—

While the trip had been kept very lowkey with both caregivers downing many layers of clothing from jackets to masks to hats and sunglasses indoors, the heat of their outfits inside the poorly air conditioned planetarium was worth it when seeing their angel smile and bounce around the place in excitement.

There she recited all the planets (in order of course) as her daddy Joonie taught her with her special love for pluto or 13430.

As she sat in the planetarium in between her two daddies immersed in the 4D film about planets and the galaxy, she wondered about something and asked:

“Daddy why is pluto not a planet” she looked up at her daddy Joonie as they looked up at the display screen upon hearing the narrator say that pluto was no longer considered a planet.

He always had all the answers in that smart head of his and Lila had always loved that one of her daddies would be answer all her whys and hows.

“Well Lila, because Pluto is too small to be considered a planet, so it’s a star, like my little stargirl” he explained copying her sentence structure to help her understand.

“But if being little makes me a star then does that mean kookie dada and daddy Joonie are big planets like Jupiter and Saturn?” She questioned suddenly no longer interested in the big screen.

“Yes my smart girl, daddies are the planets but you’re not just any little star, you’re a special star. The one we all orbit. Do you remember what that star is called?” Namjoon asked in his musing baby voice reserved for Lila.

“The sun daddy!! I’m the sun” giggled Lila as she pointed to herself excitedly because she knew the answer.

“Exactly sunshine, you are daddies sun and we’ll always orbit you because we love you.” Joon replied, taking her fingers and kissing each of them.

Satisfied with that answer, Lila refocused on the film, not knowing her daddies newfound focus on her. Namjoon smiled down as he glimpsed at Jungkook who listened to the entire interaction smiling as the caregivers tuned out the rest of the film and instead watched their star instead.

—present—

After that, Jungkook had obsessed himself with finding a galaxy nightlight to commemorate the trip but after multiple amazon orders and shopping trips, he (but mostly the other daddies) decided that none of those lights were good enough for their darling.

Some of them looked more like strobe lights which made it difficult for Lila to fall asleep and instead excited her too close to bedtime, making Jin work overtime to get her to sleep and Namjoon to exhaust his bedtime story supply. Others were fine but Tae, the ever expensive daddy deigned them “cheap-looking” and not fitting with the soft and luxurious aesthetic of the nursery which he and Yoongi had designed so naturally they too had to go.

This was the problem with having so many caregivers, everyone had an input into what was best for Lila and they all had different tastes and aesthetics so safe to say it was difficult sometimes. But Jungkook understood and he gave in to Lila’s other daddies, and looked for more galaxy lights.

Eventually Jungkook was at his wits end and muttered that he’d “just make one myself” after throwing out what must have been the 30th galaxy light.

So make that’s exactly what he went and did. He contacted manufacturers, drew up original designs, made tweaks here and there just to make it perfect for his star.

At one point he even decided that the galaxy did not look good enough for his angel so he took matters into his own hands and sketched up his own version of a galaxy, mapping out each star and colour just for the lamp.

It was a surprise to all the other members how dedicated he was to making this happen, sparing every moment between recording, interviews and practice to sketch up new revisions or call manufacturers. Eventually, Yoongi wondered if this was something ARMYs would like as well so he proposed the idea to Jungkook, and he initially said no since this was his passion project for his babygirl but later decided that it wouldn’t be the worse idea to lower economies of scale and gift ARMYs with a special gift he created. So that’s how the artist collection came about. And how Lila now had a custom galaxy light.

She truly was their sun.

Don’t forget to comment. I’ll be taking in requests for ideas so I don’t mind writing up new stuff

[persphonesorchid]

Orbiting Jupiter - KNJ || Teaser ||

Summary: Namjoon has never met someone like you in a long time. Jupiter to his Ganymede; he's stuck in your orbit.

Teaser Warnings: None (exact warnings will be on the official post, but there's none for the teaser )

Word Count: 771

Genre: Strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of angst (it's not much, promise :))

Notes: Just something I'm working on, which honestly is ending up way longer than I thought I would lol. I'm not sure when it'll be ready to post, but do keep your eye out for it! Hope you like the sneak peak! If you'd like to be tagged, lemmie know!

Full fic has been posted!: Read HERE

His eyes trail over the other patrons, everyone absorbed in their own worlds and conversations. The table he eyes quickly gets taken while he collects his iced Americano and he sighs softly, despite the amount of people in, he doesn’t want to leave yet, and the only available spot to sit comes with another person. Namjoon weighs his options. He could go outside, find a little park to sit in and drink his coffee, or he could risk it here, where someone has yet to pay him any mind. It’s been so long since he’s been able to walk freely, he knows he’ll miss it when he goes back through the front door.  

So, with cautious steps, he walks over to the table with the only available seat.  

“Excuse me...” Namjoon softly calls, briefly contemplating on tapping your shoulder; you’re reading a book, and he knows well how easily one can get lost in those. You look up though, the tiny furrow between your brows gives way to your confusion, as well as the little humming sound you make. “Sorry...do you mind if I...”  

Namjoon motions to the chair across from you, and you look at it and then back to him for a few seconds before realization blooms in your eyes.  

“Oh! No, of course...just...go ahead.” Your smile is pretty, Namjoon notes, and he realizes, as he thanks you and sits, that you recognise him. You stare at him in a knowing kind of way, and before Namjoon can up and leave, you simply smile the way you had before, as though he was any other stranger wanting to share your table. He watches with bated breath, trying to stay calm just in case, and you just go back to reading your book.  

There’s no fanfare, no freaking out and drawing attention, or asking for a photo and too invasive questions. You don’t even look at him again. The sound of you flipping the pages of your book melds into the background noise of the space, and Namjoon finds it strange. He thanks his stars, though, he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and risk losing his head.

“Can I... Is it okay if I ask for your number?” The words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can reel them in, and he’s standing there a little mortified. Namjoon always prides himself in being self-assured, but that same self-assurance leads him to putting his foot in his mouth sometimes and he says things without thinking first. It’s too late to pull the words back or act like he hadn’t asked because you’re blinking up at him, sitting a little straighter now in your seat. 

You glance around, brows furrowed, “Are...are you sure?”  

For the first time, it seems as though it just registered that you’re speaking to RM of BTS. 

There’s a nervousness about you now, as you glance to the side, and Namjoon finds this strange. He’s not trying to sound like an ass thinking that many others would jump at the offer – or be bold enough to demand it first – it’s simply the truth.  

He finds your consideration refreshing, though, and he waits patiently for you to make up your mind. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and Namjoon backtracks, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Namjoon says, putting up a hand. Despite who he is in the eyes of the public; he’s still a man. A man you’ve only spoken to for a half hour who’s now asking for your number, Namjoon would think very hard about it if he were in your shoes, too.  

“I don’t meet a lot of people like you, and I thought it would be nice if we spoke often, but if that’s not cool, that’s okay.”  

You shake your head, “No... it’s okay. I just...Are you sure? I don’t want to put you in any difficult spots, or myself for that matter...”  

You’re surprisingly calm, looking more wary than anything else, and Namjoon takes that as a good sign. “I’m sure, don’t worry.” He smiles and pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans; he unlocks it with a press of his thumb and hands it over to you.  

You fumble a little with the device, fingers tapping at the number pads quickly before handing it back to him. He shoots you a quick text, a simple ‘Hi :”)' before he was pocketing his phone again, waving and making his way out the café door. 

Tagging: @xpeachesncream @matchy6812 @luaspersona @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @eoieopda @euphoricfilter @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @eren-fall @blog-name-idk @astormunchar

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

1 and 4 for the fic writer ask game? :o

(questions for fic writers) ty!!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

HMM. ok assuming they're in all the same fandoms i'm in, somehow... i would actually say nobody writes them? or possibly fate of a lost comet? i feel like it's a good Sampler Pack (how i write character interactions, canon divergent, etc) without being the fucking Investment that oop is, and without being too out there like a lot of my msa aus are. also i just vibe with it like a lot. i think it's fun

4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of?

you did not specify a fic so i will simply Choose :P and i've already talked about the chandelure carving in ounce of prevention so i will say. in fate of a lost comet, emmet’s alias is Lexell—named after Lexell’s Comet, a comet which passed closer to earth than any other (that we know of) and then disappeared. this also means the rest of team galactic, minus cyrus, is also using aliases! this Just Makes Sense there’s no way they all coincidentally have planet names and also i super would not want the people trying to end the world with me to know my real name. they’re code names, yall.

in the modern day, cyrus has made himself quite literally the sun of their galaxy. jupiter, saturn, and mars all orbit him at different distances—mars is the smallest but also the closest, as his glorified errand girl. jupiter is distant, quite literally as she’s the one who runs their secondary location, but she’s inexorably drawn to him (and a devoted fanatic.) charon is small, distant, barely qualifying as in orbit. lexell? he’s an entirely rogue agent. he’s here, in the galaxy, but he isn’t bound by cyrus’ pull.

...i didn’t mean for this to get so long xD i will also say, i said in the modern day. this is maybe material for me to nudge-nudge-point-out in commentary after ch8 gets posted, but neither kamado or cyllene fill the same position in the cosmology as cyrus does. i spend too much time deliberating over character names for them to not be significant

[tnc-n3cl]

Project 47 for the WIP game!

Thanks for the ask! Oh that's a popular one. Gonna summarize what I said for @zeawesomebirdie here (and probably reveal some new stuff in the process).

So "Project 47" is the codename for a sci-fi/fantasy hybrid story that can be described in Hollywood "High Concept" terms as The Expanse meets Final Fantasy. I believe I've mentioned it to you before, but it is based on some ancient FF/LoZ crossover ideas that I had, which became purely FF ideas, then got spun off into an original universe. (I did salvage some ideas for "The Realm Walker from this old idea.)

So, you've got humans (in universe sapient species (also commonly refereed to as mortals/mortal-kind/etc.) names are always capitalized) living along side multiple non-human sapients on two Earth sized moons around a gas giant twice the size of Jupiter. I strove for as much scientific accuracy as I could so there was a LOT of research into all sorts of things, from astronomical stuff when designing to solar system, to taxonomy when I came up with the taxonomy for the various peoples. And while I love Star Trek, I wanted to avoid the rubber forehead alien trope so most of the non-humans aren't very humanoid. For example, the Avestrens are even more bird than the Rito, they can walk upright, but when going into a run adopt a stance more like a mockingbird or velociraptor.

The core of the story is that a nation on one moon (The Takara Alliance) builds an aerospace ship (basically a fantasy airship with rockets attached) to explore the other moon. They've known it was inhabited for a long time now and have been keeping an eye on it with telescopes and even have a network of satellites orbiting it.

They originally planed for a five year mission (cause Star Trek reference, possibly even in-universe as I'm certain in my musings on this there was an in-universe equivalent) to study the moon in person (like how the Federation disguises people to study pre-warp civilizations), but a probe they sent to the edge of the solar system captured images of a derelict aerospace ship.

Thanks to the alignment of the planets, they had a once in a hundred (or longer) years chance to investigate this thing in person. This results in the ground crew having to go it alone for eight years and stretches the crew on the ship to their limits. (For example, they've got hydroponics bays to grow plant based food, but the Avestrens are hypercarnivores, they can't really process plant based food very well. They've got something akin to a protein synthesizer but the goo it produces isn't very appetizing, so the ship's captain (an Avestren) grinds up strawberries in it (little nutritional value for him so kinda like junk food) to make it look a little more appetizing/taste like something.)

I had planed to post a series of oneshots more or less on DA to lead up to the main story but never got very far. The one thing I posted I took down cause I wasn't happy with it.

But lucky for you, I feel like reposting it! So here is "The Assignment", where a sapientologist (what Star Trek would call a xenoanthropologist, which would literally translate to "one who studies strange men" BTW) is recruited for the mission. (BBC America was rerunning X-Files a lot back when I was working on this, so the sapientologist (Dr. Zara Kaladi) ended up getting modeled after Dana Scully a little (visually at least, character wise you could make comparisons to Dr. Daniel Jackson from the Stargate franchise)). Gonna put it below the cut (disclaimer it's a little rough, and was the first thing I wrote in novel format since high school after years of writing in script format for my Trek and Stargate fics so perspective is a little wonky...)

An older Human woman with light skin, red hair, and blue eyes wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans sits at a table eating breakfast, a simple bowl of cereal.  She is reading something on tablet computer, a news report.  On the screen the date is visible, Merzav 1, 350 AF.  The headline reads “Prototype aerospace ship Korus set to launch soon.”  Before she read more a doorbell rings. 

The woman stands up, and we can tell she is 1.6 m tall and roughly 47 kg.  She walks out of the room and into a living room.  In the corner we can see some half-unpacked suitcases then a large bookshelf.   The room is somewhat larger than your average living room.  The doorbell rings again. 

The woman finally reaches the door, a wider than average door that is at least 2.7 m tall, and activates a screen off to the side.  The screen displays a pair outside the house, a Human woman about 1.7 m tall and 49 kg in weight with light skin, brown eyes, and black hair dressed in a black business suit and a 2.1 m tall, 48 kg humanoid bird with an eagle-like head and beak, an Avestren. 

The white feathers on its throat and grey feathers on top of its head and running down towards its back are a clear sign that it is female.  She has green eyes and a stripe of dark blue feathers extending from behind her eyes and running down the sides of her neck.  Her clothing is similar to a housecoat but one side appears to be fastened with buttons and it has short sleeves.   This garment is white in color with what looks like military metals attached to it, there is also a name tag but we can’t read it on the screen.  Rank insignia are visible on the tops of the shoulders; they are an aqua color with two gold four-point stars on top, a silver lightning bolt, and three silver stripes.  She is also holding a briefcase, her hand and arm are covered in yellow scales.

The homeowner presses a button on the screen.  “What is it?” she asks. 

The woman outside presses another button and replies, “Dr. Kaladi, we’re sorry to disturb you so soon after returning from your sabbatical.   I’m Dr. Jiwoo Byon from the Alliance Space Administration and this is Commander Zunala (Zu-nala) from the Air Defense Force.  We’re here with an exciting research opportunity for you.  May we come in?” 

“An exciting research opportunity?” Dr. Kaladi thinks to herself, “I’m a sapieologist and archeologist, what could the ASA and ADF want with me?”.   Dr. Kaladi opens the door and asks, “What kind of opportunity?”. 

“The kind that comes once in a lifetime.” Dr. Byon replies. 

Dr. Kaladi raises an eyebrow in interest and after a moment responds “Come in.”  She holds the door open and the two enter the house.  She closes the door.

Dr. Kaladi walks over to the couch and lifts up the cushion revealing a horizontal bar underneath.  She motions to the couch and Dr. Byon sits on the other cushion while Comm. Zunala perches on the bar and sets the briefcase on the table.  “Can I get you anything?” she asks, being polite.

“No thanks.” Comm. Zunala replies, sounding, and looking, not unlike a parrot mimicking Human speech. 

Dr. Kaladi sits in a chair next to the couch.  “So what’s this once in a lifetime opportunity?” she asks. 

Dr. Byon responds “I assume by now you’ve heard of the new ship we’re building.” 

“Of course, I have, it’s been all over the news for the past month.” Dr. Kaladi thinks to herself before responding “The Korus right?” 

“Yes.  We’re looking for specialists for its first real mission.” Dr. Byon replies.

“Specialists?” Dr. Kaladi asks. 

Comm. Zunala responds, “Yes.  As you know the Korus is a joint venture between the ADF and the ASA.   While the ASA does have a number of scientists suited to missions the Korus can accomplish there are a few positions left unfulfilled on a mission of this nature.” 

Intrigued, Dr. Kaladi asks, “What is the nature of this mission?” 

“A long-term survey of Serov.” Dr. Byon responds. 

“We already have several…” Dr. Kaladi stops mid-sentence, her eyes widen as she realizes, “…You’re going to land a research team on Serov!” 

“Indeed.” Comm. Zunala responds as she opens the briefcase and pulls out a tablet. 

She hands it to Dr. Kaladi, who asks “What is this?”

Comm. Zunala responds “A standard issue NDA, which you will need to sign if you accept this assignment.” 

“Why do I need to sign an NDA?” Dr. Kaladi asks, obviously annoyed. 

Comm. Zunala responds “First, we’re not ready for the general public to learn about this mission yet.  Second and most importantly, the Korus is a military research vessel.  As such during your time aboard the ship and on the ground team you may learn military secrets, it is vital to national security that you do not reveal these secrets.” 

Dr. Kaladi reads over the NDA for some time, “Wait, the Intelligence Service is going to look over any papers I write about research conducted during the mission?” she asks, visibly upset.

 “Yes,” Comm. Zunala responds, “We must ensure your compliance with the NDA.” 

“They won’t censor your research.  They just want to make sure you don’t reveal any military secrets.” Dr. Byon adds. 

Dr. Kaladi looks annoyed, after a few moments of awkward silence Dr. Byon looks at Comm. Zunala and says, “Why don’t you give the two of us a moment?” 

Comm. Zunala cocks her head to the right in bird like fashion while looking at the woman and replies, “Alright.” 

Dr. Kaladi sets down the tablet, “Fine, let’s talk upstairs.” She tells Dr. Byon.  The two Humans head upstairs while Comm. Zunala waits in the living room.

In an upstairs hallway Drs. Kaladi and Byon talk.  “Look, I know your uneasy working with the military.  A lot of us over at the ASA are too, but they are the only ones with the resources and interest in building a ship like the Korus.”  She tells Dr. Kaladi. 

“Oh, the ASA can’t build a spacecraft?” Dr. Kaladi responds sarcastically. 

Dr. Byon replies, “Not one with the capabilities of the Korus, we just don’t have the resources.  We’re lucky the ADF agreed to work with us on it and that Tiryraku (Tiri-raku) insisted on the Korus being a research vessel.  There’s just so much we can do with the Korus, first hand observations of Serov are just the tip of the iceberg here.” 

Dr. Kaladi knows Dr. Byon is right; the chance to find out what happened in The Wastelands of Damrov or find out how that continent on the near side was frozen over and what is keeping it frozen over; this is too important of an opportunity to pass up, “Fine.” She says and they walk back downstairs. 

Comm. Zunala is standing over by the bookshelf looking at a figurine on a table.  It is of a Human male wearing full plate mail armor holding a long katana up towards the sky in his right hand.  The figurine is made of wood and though it looks as if it was made with primitive tools, it is intricately detailed, especially the strange symbols on the blade of the katana.  Drs. Kaladi and Byon emerge from upstairs and walk over to Comm. Zunala, who asks, “Is this from the Zanik Islands?” 

“Yes” Dr. Kaladi responds with a confused look on her face, “How did you know?”

 “My grandfather is from the Zanik Islands.” Comm. Zunala responds. 

“Really?” Dr. Kaladi asks, genuinely surprised, the Avestrens living in the Zanik Islands rarely make contact with outsiders. 

“Yes,” Comm. Zunala responds, “He was fishing and got caught in a storm and was rescued by an Alliance fishing vessel.  My grandmother saved his life and they fell in love and he moved here.  He made my mother a figurine just like this one.  How did you get this?” 

“I traded a gold necklace for it while I was doing my graduate work there.”  Dr. Kaladi responds. 

Dr. Byon inquires “Why would the Avestrens living there make a figurine of a Human warrior?” 

Comm. Zunala replies “It’s from an old legend.  They called him Kurakilas (Kura-key-laas), he was a senior warrior in the Drachegarde and lead a team that stopped a Gureri horde from invading the islands roughly 1,000 years ago.” 

“There’s a temple with giant stone statues of him and the rest of his team back on the islands.” Dr. Kaladi adds, “Seeing evidence of Drachegarde myths in such a distant and isolated place is what got me researching The Celestial War in the first place.” 

Dr. Byon asks, “Kurakilas?” 

Comm. Zunala looks at her “It loosely translates as Savior”. 

After a moment Dr. Byon breaks the silence “Well, should we get back to business.”  Dr. Kaladi and Comm. Zunala nod and move towards the couch.

Drs. Kaladi and Byon sit down in their original places.  Dr. Kaladi picks up the tablet, reads over it for a moment and signs it.  While setting down the tablet she queries, “So when does this mission start?” 

Dr. Byon responds, “The Korus launches on her maiden voyage in a few days, during that mission it will scout a camp site on Serov before returning home.  Right now, we’re aiming for a launch in the middle of Hirzav.  That will give you about two months of training for liftoff and reentry.” 

Dr. Kaladi asks, “How long is this mission?” 

Comm. Zunala replies, “We’re planning for three to five years, but we’re prepared to adjust that depending on how things go.” 

“Any more questions?” Dr. Byon asks. 

After a few moments Dr. Kaladi responds, “No.” 

Comm. Zunala takes the tablet and puts it in the briefcase and takes a folder out of the briefcase.  “This contains all that you’ll need to know before the mission starts.  We’ll get back with you when we’re ready to start your training.” 

Dr. Kaladi takes the folder and the three stand up and head towards the door.  Dr. Kaladi opens it and Dr. Byon and Comm. Zunala walk out.  After a moment she shuts the door and walks over to the couch.  She sets the folder on the table and lowers the couch cushion.  The folder’s cover is visible and says “KSSM-0147 Mission Briefing, Top Secret”.

---

Here's a link to my DA gallery for Project 47, which I also liked in the previous post that hopefully linked properly in this post... Contains lore articles as well as artwork (ships, weapons, crude maps, and alphabets!).

[supremeinlilac]

The silver moon loves you as I do

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k

A/n: For @venablemayfairgoode <33 It's basically just my descriptive date-y style fic which I'll have one for each character :))

Part 1 of the character ficlets <3

The water reflected the perfect moon into her eyes. Shimmering with the gentle waves in swirling iris’, you dipped toes into the water cooled by the night. Everyone was silent and yet you sat perched atop the rocks by the lake.

Sleep was so far away when you still had so much to do.

Billie looked up at you, rested her elbows against her knees, and her eyes said I love you. Highlighted by only the silver tongues of light, she tied her hair up. You watched nimble fingers braid strawberry blonde hair and sighed.

Sleep was so far away when she looked like that.

The moon was perfect company. She undressed, her floating skirt pooling at her feet and you rose to fold it. Perfection can’t wear clothes creased with worry.

A cricket chirped from the thicket nearby and you heard Billie sigh from behind you. Silence. There were no ghosts here. Nothing but the moon.

The bubble of moving water, a gasp. You knew the water would be cold; but that you’d find Billie and that her skin would be warm. Billie was always warm, comfortably so in a way that was never stifling. Kissed by the sun throughout the day so she’d retain the heat long into the night.

A parting gift from the day, and she’d share it with you. Always.

Turning, you were just in time to see Billie’s exposed shoulder blades, shadows reflecting bone as they were swallowed by the lake. Her grace was unmatched. She’d glide into the water so quietly that even the fish wouldn’t flee with her presence.

She resurfaced, water trickling over lips that would sing in your sleep. Running fingers through the surface, she beckoned you to her.

Come to me, my love. Let the darkness swallow you as you swim to me. May you be baptised by the waters of my love and kissed by the glow of the moon. Even for just one night. The darkness is safe, I promise. Let me lead you.

Her skin glistened with the lake’s tears in the moon’s benevolent beams. Her arms would reach towards you in confident strokes and then you’d be in her embrace. Slippery skin against yours and hands that would pull at the dip of a waist.

Closer. Come closer to me so that we might become one, even just for one night. Under the watchful gaze of the moon, may we be lovers entwined. The vines of your heart have worked themselves into mine, my love.

She held you up in her arms, lips peppering kisses against your stomach as you reached for the stars. The water swelled and bubbled, music in the silence of the empty night.

You held the shadow of the moon in your hands, and oh, how you wished you could pluck it from its place in the sky like a plum from branch.

Higher. Lift me higher so that I can reach the moon for you, my love. Even for just one night, let me hold the moon in my palms so you may taste its silver fruit. May we dance in its orbit and catch it in gentle hands.

She dropped you, dipping you under the water so she could kiss you in its murk. The touch of a lover, in the dark where not even the moon could spy with greedy eyes upon your love.

Your love was your own, sacred and blessed, and you’d rise gasping for air.

Her laughter broke the fragile silence and skimmed like a stone across the water. The moon would light up her face, teeth a set of shimmering pearls on silver string. She’d shake with its power, and your fingers would reach to brush at her cheek.

She looked so pretty in happiness.

I can feel your laugh. Under my skin and into my bones, it warms me. Your laugh is a fire, gentle and inviting. I huddle around it; I prod at the flames and do anything to prolong its sweet life. Laugh for me. Just for one night, laugh so the world’s worries may relax in your joy. For you, my love, hold the sun in your voice.

The stars above you shone like rare jewels in the dark, but you swore you could find them all in her eyes, a glorious constellation embossed in rich amber. She smiled, and the stars blinked their love at you.

You kissed her eyelids, soft lips feeling the delicate flutter of eyes that wished to open beneath them. You wouldn’t stay here long, knowing that she wished to see Jupiter in your eyes too. Only long enough so you could say you’d kissed the stars themselves.

Billie pulled your face down to hers, lips brushing against lips, your hands at the nape of her neck. Her thumbs smoothed away damp hair that clung to your face, curtains opening to let the sunlight bleed in. The breath of a new dawn.

Billie’s breath was warm against the goosebumps of your chest, it smelled like the familiar musk of cigarettes and the sweet tang of vanilla. Scents married together, and you could have sworn they were never separate to begin with.

My breath is your breath, my lungs hold your air. Jupiter may suffocate you before you can bask in its beauty, but I can show you the stars. Even for just one night, breathe me in and burst with the colours of my love for you.

You both lay, starfish with coral nails that would brush against your fingertips. Don’t go too far, they’d whisper, and the water would reply; subtle tides to wash you together until hands would find hands again.

Floating on your backs, eyes cast up to the patient moon. The moon would take its time with its journey across the sky tonight, crawling across a jewelled canvas, and you both would have eternity in each other’s embrace.

For you see, Billie Dean, the silver moon loves you as I do.

taglist: @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @okpaulson @magnifique-monstre @extraordinarilycelestrial @mssallymckenna @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @darling-dontforgetme @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt @d14n4ol @ninaahs @sarahp-stan @natasha-danvers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow @lovelypeasantjellyfish @rainbow-hedgehog @paulawand @saucy-sapphic @lilypadscoven @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @delias-bitch-craft @venablemayfairgoode @loverofallthingssarah @music-addict ,if you want to be added, give me a shout :))

[wyrtt-au]

do you have any books/fics/songs/art pieces/movies/etc that inspired this au? what are they? why?

Okay, so I don't have exactly things that inspired this au, I do have things that helped with the creation of the au and plot line and so on.

So, there is a song called "Golden Dandelions" by Barns Courtney that really reminds me of the characters and the progression of events throughout the story, though I cannot really say why. I think a lot of it is the overall like, happiness and joy throughout the song. It's just a lovely song.

There are playlists that you can find here that all helped with writing and flow of events.

When I work on writing the scenes/dialogues I usually have movies or tv shows playing. Throughout the duration of this it's been usually movies/tv shows I watched before, like; Downton Abbey, Tick... Tick... Boom!, Hannibal, Five Feet Apart, Chicago Med.

None of these particularly remind me of wyrtt (beyond Five Feet Apart) but they all help with keeping the flow of the dialogue and so on.

There is this book called Orbiting Jupiter by Gary D. Schmidt that I've been reminded of so often while writing this story.

[weshallbegolden]

3 and 4 in general (as in from all your fics what's your favorite)

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

I know it's more than one line, but I couldn't choose between those two.

"Angelica once told him that he was an Icarus, doomed from the start and if he was an Icarus then Thomas was his sun, scorching his skin, his eyes tearing holes in his soul where he left nothing but a fragment of what they could have been. He felt so useless and worn out, just like the cardigan he tossed at the end of his bed. He clung to himself at night, crying and as miserable as a dying candle, nothing but waxed poetry escaping from his wounds and the stars were nowhere to be seen." from i was your favourite

and

"Alexander then realized three things. First, Thomas’s lips were the sweetest things he had ever tasted. Secondly, Thomas liked him back. Lastly, Thomas Jefferson was a God. He was Jupiter and Alexander Hamilton was just another moon caught in his orbit." from useless precautions.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

At the moment: "Our love was made of glass, so prone to break but so easy to fill."

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Voyage - Bit 3)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3

This has settled down to a once a week post at the moment. I am still writing, but I’ve been writing the Prologue because I realised that I hadn’t written enough backstory to support the main story. So expect 4000-odd words of Jeff landing on Mars in the near future.

In the meantime, here is a little terrible twos being good bros.

As always, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for all their patient help. I’ve been a pain lately, so they have suffered greatly for my fic :D

I hope you enjoy this last bit of Part Two.

-o-o-o-

Gordon sat back and watched his father and Virgil leave the cockpit. John followed a moment later.

Gordon wasn’t hungry, not by a long shot. His stomach was still protesting the jump and he was quite happy staying where he was.

He wasn’t surprised that Scott, after reassuring himself that Alan was okay monitoring the course correction, disappeared after John. Gordon did not want to be in the room when that encounter happened. Not that he didn’t have his own beef with the astronaut over this. He couldn’t believe John would support their father going into space. John, of all people knew the health ramifications.

Speaking of which…

He unbuckled and pushed off his chair in the direction of his father’s chair. Formerly, his chair. He was of two minds regarding that fact, but considering he didn’t think Dad should even be in space, where he sat was of the least importance.

He hooked his foot around the base of the seat and pulled himself in beside his little brother.

Gordon’s eyes danced over the flight controls. “How’s it going?”

Alan glanced at him. “Computer is performing perfectly. We’ll stop to drop the buoy in about twenty-five minutes.” A raised eyebrow. “How’s the tummy?” And yes, there was a small smirk accompanying that.

“It’s fine.” As if to penalise him for lying to his little brother, his gut twisted.

Gordon let out a groan.

The smirk turned to a worried frown. “You sure you’re okay.”

He grunted at his brother. “I’ll live.” And he remembered that there were four more jumps there and likely five more on the way back. “Maybe.”

“Get Virg to drug you up. You’ll enjoy it more.”

‘Enjoy’ was rarely in the same sentence as ‘space’ in Gordon’s book. “Might do that.” Puking in zero-g was just messy and not to mention gross. “How come you aren’t feeling it?”

Alan shrugged. “Been playing with g-forces since I was a kid? This isn’t much different.”

Gordon grunted at him again.

They sat there together for a moment or two. There was something about hanging with his little brother that was different from hanging with his older brothers. More relaxed maybe, or just…different.

“Not often my ‘bird carries yours. This has to be only the second time.”

Gordon blinked. “Yeah? I think so. Not too many oceans in space.”

“Tell that to the Jupiter system.”

Space oceans were a thing. After the mad dash that was their trip to Europa, Gordon had made a point of reading up on all the extra-terrestrial oceans he could find.

Earth, of course, was the only body in the solar system with surface liquid water. There were buckets of ice on many of the other planets and moons, but none of that interested the aquanaut. He preferred his water well above zero degrees celsius.

Europa had been fascinating and he was still basking in the accolades from the scientific paper that he, Alan and his heroes, the Pendergasts, had jointly written. Readings from Four’s scanners had recorded everything and Earth’s scientific compliment were still going nuts years later. Tracy Industries had helped fund a proper scientific expedition to the moon.

Hmm, come to think of it, they should probably drop in and say hi on the way back. Would be interesting to catch up with Gwen and her team in person instead of over holovid.

Would be hilarious to knock on their door as a surprise. Hi, we were just in the area…

He grinned.

“What are you up to?” Alan was eyeing him suspiciously.

Gordon snorted. “Just thinking we should drop in on the Europa Extra-terrestrial Marine Expedition on the way back. I owe Gwen a jump-scare.”

His brother tilted his head, obviously calculating the possibility. “Could do. You should speak to Scott.”

That dragged him back to reality. “I guess it depends on Dad.”

Blue eyes darted in his direction. “Dad will be okay. You know that, don’t you?”

Gordon found he didn’t have the energy to get angry. “How can you know that?”

“I don’t.” Alan went quiet a moment. “But then how do you think I manage each time you go out on a mission?”

The aquanaut stared at him. “What?”

“Well, your health has never been and never will be one hundred percent, yet you still dart down to the bottom of the ocean, jump off high places and do things just like the rest of us. Do you think I don’t think of losing you all the time?”

Gordon froze a moment digesting that his little brother still worried about that… “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Dad…okay, I get your point. But I’m also worried about Scott.”

“What?” Alan stared at him.

“Can’t you see what this is doing to him?”

“Er, what?”

No, Alan hadn’t seen. “I have never seen Scott so terrified.”

“I repeat – what?”

“When Dad told us he was going. Scott just…” He swallowed. “Dad is hurting Scott and I, for one, am not going to stand for it. Virg isn’t either.”

Alan was staring at him. “You said Dad was cold and didn’t care. Abrupt, yes, that’s Dad, but I can’t believe he doesn’t care.” The astronaut shook his head.

“If he cared, he wouldn’t have come.”

“Gords-“

“Alan, trust me on this.”

His little brother stared at him again. “I trust you, Gordon, you know that. It’s a given. But I also trust Dad. He knows what he’s doing.”

Gordon pressed his lips together. “He doesn’t know everything and I really wish you guys would stop worshipping him as a god.”

“He’s not a god! He’s just…Dad.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem.”

There was silence after that. Gordon not willing to berate Alan any further. It wasn’t Alan’s fault. He didn’t have the history with Dad Gordon did. He hadn’t had to fight to swim. Hadn’t seen Virgil struggle with his choices.

Hadn’t seen Scott give his everything to his father only to have it…ignored.

But no, that was history. Long ago. Before the Oort Cloud. Gordon had his issues regarding his father. He loved him, but he was a difficult man under all that passion. Being the son of a hero wasn’t everything it could be.

Scott worshipped the ground his father walked on. Gordon, not so much.

To see his father hurt Scott like that…Gordon’s blood just boiled.

“Is Scott okay?” Alan’s voice was smaller than usual.

“That’s just it, Allie. I don’t think so. You know how he gets. Like before the Oort Cloud. I, for one, don’t want him going there again.” ‘There’ being more a mental place than a physical.

Alan’s head dropped. “No.”

A voice rumbled behind them and both jumped. Michael was talking into comms, to Scott, something about the aft sensor array.

Crap. It was a sign of his distraction that he had forgotten the Mechanic was there. He glanced over, but the tattooed man showed no sign of even knowing they existed.

Gordon sighed.

A hand landed on his knee. “It’s going to be okay.” Blue eyes sought his. “It will be, Gords.”

He let out a breath, suddenly wishing he had Alan’s faith.

If anything happened to Dad…

“It. Is. Going. To. Be. Okay.” The hand on his leg squeezed tight.

But Gordon didn’t answer.

-o-o-o-

The drop of the communication buoy saw all of them back in the cockpit. John was the mastermind behind this little exercise and Virgil was, as usual, very proud of his space brother.

The design was ingenious, of course. John had taken a portion of the T-drive technology and applied it to communications. The same Tunnels created by the engine could be used to push what would otherwise be a simple comms signal through to the next buoy at a vastly accelerated rate. His brother had been working with Brains to realise this technology. Back in Earth orbit, a satellite connected the new network to the planetary network. On the way out, they would connect the Jupiter system. On the way back, they would connect Mars. Time delay communications would be a thing of the past.

Possibly as a tension reliever, John’s first signal went straight to Lady Penelope.

Gordon’s demeanour shifted immediately. His excited babbling did much to lighten the atmosphere in the cabin. The uninformed wouldn’t have been blamed for thinking he hadn’t spoken to her for years. Virgil knew for a fact the two of them had had a conversation shortly before they left.

The concept of ‘young love’ made him feel old.

And indicated just how tired he really was.

But sleep was something he couldn’t see happening very soon. Sure, he could try to take a nap en route. Hell, he had to. But his head was full of worry that likely wouldn’t let him rest.

Scott let Gordon babble for a full minute before cutting him off with the mission. Perhaps the commander saw how much the atmosphere needed to be lifted from the black depths they had fallen into.

Virgil hated it when his family argued. It didn’t happen often...okay, maybe they did quarrel every now and again - it came with the territory of working together. But nothing deep like this. Nothing that cut into the core of their very foundation. The surety that held them together.

Virgil sighed.

“Ready for jump.” Scott’s voice was all command and it forced Virgil to focus.

Pre-jump checklist as his brother called out to each of them.

“Airframe?”

“Craft secure. We are go.”

Blue eyes flickered to Michael. “Propulsion.”

“T-drive ready.”

“Helm.”

Alan’s back was tensed, his hand on the lever that would propel them further away from Earth. “Ready.”

The familiar countdown, such a part of their lives. Scott’s voice carried security...and Virgil’s faith.

Alan’s arm moved.

And the Excel jumped.

-o-o-o-

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