#Space Shuttle Main Engine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sillygoose067 · 1 month ago

Text

Wrong Bag, Right Time

Lewis Pullman x Reader

You’re already regretting your decision to book the late-night flight by the time you step off the plane. Your brain is a thick fog, your legs are stiff, and your eyes are burning from a barely-there nap sandwiched between two chatty seatmates. The fluorescent airport lights feel like a personal attack as you shuffle through the terminal, clutching your carry-on and weaving through a sea of bleary-eyed travelers.

You follow the signs to the baggage claim, your body moving on autopilot, ears still ringing from the jet engines and the tinny airline announcements. You lean against a cool, steel column, rolling your shoulders back as you wait for the belt to start rumbling. Around you, people are already gathering, faces drawn and eyes darting every few seconds as the carousel creaks to life.

Bags start thudding onto the belt, one after another — a parade of black, navy, and occasionally neon roller bags that look like they’ve been through multiple rounds of airport roulette. You squint, eyes scanning the blur of luggage as it slowly snakes its way around the conveyor.

Your suitcase is black, a standard roller bag with a scuffed corner and a strip of faded, decorative tape around the handle — a last-minute attempt to make it easier to spot in the chaos. When you finally catch sight of it, you push through the small crowd, reaching for the handle just as a kid with a Spider-Man backpack nearly trips over his own shoes, forcing you to dodge sideways to avoid a collision.

You grab the suitcase and wrestle it off the belt, feeling the reassuring weight of your overpacked essentials as the wheels clatter onto the tile. It’s a little heavier than you remember, but then again, you crammed it full of work documents, laptop accessories, and enough backup phone chargers to power a small tech convention.

Dragging it toward the exit, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the glossy airport windows — hair mussed, eyes smudged with exhaustion, and your blouse slightly wrinkled from a restless sleep against the plane window. You sigh, mentally promising yourself a long, hot shower the second you get to your hotel.

The shuttle to the car rental lot is packed, every inch of space claimed by tourists and business travelers with the same dazed expressions you’re sure you’re wearing. You brace yourself against a pole, your suitcase tucked between your knees as the bus lurches into motion, bumping over the uneven tarmac.

By the time you reach your hotel, you’re practically running on fumes, dragging your suitcase through the lobby and into the elevator with a series of clumsy, exhausted jerks. You fish out your key card, nearly dropping it twice before you manage to swipe it through the reader and stumble into your room.

Your heels come off first, clattering to the floor with a dull thud as you toss your bag onto the bed. You flick on the bedside lamp, the warm glow instantly making the small space feel a little less sterile.

The water from the shower is scalding, and you let it beat down on your shoulders, eyes closed as the steam fills the small bathroom, fogging the mirror and making the tiles beneath your feet slick. You let yourself stand there longer than necessary, feeling the tension slowly drain from your muscles, the ache in your lower back gradually easing.

Wrapped in a thick hotel towel, you shuffle back into the main room, hair dripping onto the carpet as you flip open your suitcase, ready to dig out your comfiest, most threadbare shirt and collapse into bed.

But when you peel back the top layer of clothing, your fingers don’t hit neatly folded blouses or the sensible, corporate slacks you’d meticulously packed. Instead, you pull out a rumpled Led Zeppelin tee, its soft, well-worn fabric clearly belonging to someone who’s spent years living in it.

You blink, holding it up, the faded graphic stretching across the front like a relic from another lifetime. Confused, you dig deeper, pulling out a small mountain of band tees, a denim jacket with fraying patches sewn into the sleeves, and a battered leather notebook, its cover creased and edges worn.

Your pulse quickens as you flip through the pages, finding half-finished sketches, messy notes in looping cursive, and the occasional smudge of ink where someone clearly wrote in a hurry. There’s a faint, musky scent clinging to the pages, a mix of worn leather and old cologne.

“Wait...” you murmur, setting the notebook aside as you reach for a thick stack of papers wedged against the side of the case. It’s a printed script, the title bold at the top and someone’s lines heavily highlighted in yellow.

You glance back at the open suitcase, your mind racing, heart thudding against your ribs as you fish out a small, laminated luggage tag tangled in the zipper. It flips over in your hand, the plastic cool and slightly warped from years of travel.

“L.P.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” You sink onto the edge of the bed, the towel slipping from your shoulders as you stare at the mismatched pile of someone else’s life spread across your hotel sheets.

---

Across town, Lewis Pullman hauls his suitcase up the narrow stairwell to his apartment, one hand gripping the railing as he leans into the climb, every muscle in his legs protesting the final stretch. He fumbles for his keys, and finally shoulders his way inside, the familiar, comforting chaos of his one-bedroom coming into focus as he kicks the door shut behind him.

He toes off his boots, letting them fall wherever they land, and drags the suitcase into his cramped living room, tossing his jacket onto the back of the couch. The streetlights outside cast thin, golden strips across the walls, and his refrigerator hums steadily in the otherwise silent space.

He flips open the suitcase, too tired to even think about organizing, and reaches blindly for a clean shirt. Instead, his hand lands on something stiff and sharply pressed.

Lewis frowns, pulling out a neatly folded stack of dress shirts, their collars crisp and perfectly creased. He blinks, eyebrows knitting together as he digs deeper, pulling out tailored slacks and a leather-bound planner with a small, discreet logo embossed on the corner.

“What the...” He flips the planner open, eyes skimming over tightly packed meeting notes, detailed itineraries, and a color-coded calendar that looks like the work of someone who genuinely enjoys spreadsheets.

He reaches for a thick, intimidating-looking folder marked “Confidential” in bold letters, his heart sinking further as he flips it open to reveal a stack of professionally printed documents.

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” He lets the folder drop onto the floor, running a hand through his already messy hair as he stares at the unfamiliar contents of what is very clearly not his suitcase.

Somewhere out there, someone is currently rifling through his tangle of band tees, scribbled notes, and, worst of all, his heavily highlighted script for a new gig he'd just scored.

---

You stare at the suitcase spread open on your hotel bed, the pile of band tees and creased notebook sitting there like a physical reminder of the chaos your life has just become. You should do something — call the airline, maybe, or at least try to figure out who this L.P. is before their missing luggage becomes your permanent problem.

But you’re exhausted. The kind of tired that settles deep in your bones, turning your thoughts into molasses and making even the simplest task feel monumental.

You let out a long, frustrated sigh, rubbing your eyes and glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It’s already pushing 1 a.m., and the idea of trying to navigate a customer service call right now feels like a special kind of hell.

“Alright, fine,” you mutter to the empty room, tossing the vintage tees back into the suitcase and flipping the lid closed. You’ll deal with it in the morning, when your brain is at least somewhat functional. For now, you just need sleep.

You crawl into bed, still vaguely damp from the shower, and tug the covers up to your chin. The mattress is firmer than you’d like, the pillow a little too thin, but it doesn’t take long for the steady hum of the hotel air conditioning to lull you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

---

Across town, Lewis drops onto his couch, head thudding against the worn armrest as he stares up at the cracked ceiling. The folder of mysterious corporate documents is still sitting on the coffee table, its thick, embossed cover practically daring him to open it again.

He considers getting up, maybe flipping through the papers for a hint about who his mystery bag-swapping stranger might be, but the thought alone makes his eyes feel heavier. He’s not exactly equipped for a late-night detective mission right now, not with the remnants of jet lag still clinging to his brain like a wet blanket.

“Tomorrow,” he grumbles, kicking his feet up onto the armrest and letting his eyes drift shut. He’ll deal with it in the morning, when his brain isn’t actively trying to shut down.

---

The next morning comes far too quickly. You wake to the sharp, insistent chime of your phone alarm, the sound cutting through your foggy consciousness like a knife. You groan, slapping at your phone until it goes blessedly silent, and roll onto your back, staring up at the bland, popcorn-textured ceiling.

It takes a moment for the events of the previous night to come rushing back — the wrong suitcase, the unfamiliar band tees, the mysterious L.P. luggage tag. You sit up slowly, rubbing at your eyes and trying to shake the lingering cobwebs from your brain.

First things first: your own suitcase. You’d had the foresight to slip an Apple AirTag into one of the side pockets before your flight, a small, paranoid part of you always worrying about exactly this kind of mix-up.

You grab your phone, opening the Find My app with a flick of your thumb, but the screen just loads into a frustratingly empty map, the little green dot stubbornly refusing to show up. Too far away, probably. You grit your teeth, already regretting not springing for the upgraded model with the longer range.

You tap the call icon and put the phone to your ear, bouncing your knee as it rings.

“Thank you for calling Apple Support. Please hold while we connect you to the next available representative.”

You resist the urge to groan, your fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against the hotel comforter as the tinny hold music crackles in your ear.

---

Across town, Lewis is having his own version of a chaotic morning. He’s halfway through his second cup of coffee, hair still damp from a hurried shower, as he flips through the stack of neatly printed documents that had been sitting in what he thought was his suitcase.

Every page is packed with dense, professional text — contracts, meeting agendas, and what looks like a series of legal documents with a name scrawled at the bottom in neat, looping handwriting.

“Alright,” he mutters to himself, leaning back against the kitchen counter as he taps the name into his phone’s search bar.

Results flood the screen, a frustratingly long list of people with the same name scattered across LinkedIn profiles, news articles, and random blog posts. He scrolls through the first few pages, trying to find anything that might match the person he accidentally luggage-swapped with, but it’s like looking for a needle in a very, very crowded haystack.

He blows out a breath, tossing his phone onto the counter and rubbing the back of his neck. His manager is going to kill him when they find out about this. Still, he can’t exactly let a stranger hold on to his scribbled notes and half-finished script forever.

“Alright, screw it,” he says, grabbing his phone again and pulling up his manager’s contact.

“Sam, hey, I’ve got a situation,” he says as soon as the line connects, pacing a tight circle in his small kitchen. “No, it’s not like last time. I just... I might have swapped bags with someone at the airport, and I have no idea who they are, but they’ve got my script. And my stuff. All my stuff.”

There’s a long pause on the other end, the kind that usually means Sam is resisting the urge to throw his phone against the nearest wall.

“Okay,” Sam finally says, his voice a carefully measured calm. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to take the bag you’ve got and head back to the airport. There’s a decent chance the other person will do the same once they realize they’ve got the wrong bag.”

Lewis sighs, glancing at the stack of neatly folded dress shirts and leather-bound planner sitting innocently on his counter.

“Yeah, alright,” he mutters, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door. “I’m on my way.”

---

Meanwhile, your Apple Support call finally connects, a cheery voice on the other end promising to walk you through the steps to locate your missing suitcase. You glance over at the still-open bag on the bed, the crumpled script catching your eye.

Maybe it’s time to finally figure out who the hell L.P. is. You grab the thick stack of papers, flipping to the cover page and skimming the title. Your eyes widen as the name Lewis Pullman jumps out at you, the pieces suddenly falling into place.

Lewis Pullman. The actor. Bill Pullman’s son.

You stare at the script in your hands, heart thudding in your chest as the full weight of your accidental heist hits you.

“Oh, no,” you mutter, sinking back onto the bed. “What have I done?”

---

Lewis taps his fingers against the steering wheel, jaw tight as he stares at the congested freeway ahead. The morning sun glares off the windshields around him, turning the LA traffic into a slow, blinding crawl. He glances at the passenger seat, where your neatly packed suitcase sits like a silent accusation, the crisp corners and tasteful leather trim a stark contrast to the chaos he’s used to.

By the time he finally reaches LAX, the nerves in his stomach have twisted into a full-on knot. He parks and hauls the suitcase through the labyrinth of terminals, the weight of his mistake pressing down on his shoulders.

The airport is buzzing with activity, the steady thrum of engines and the chaotic clatter of luggage creating a backdrop of controlled chaos as he heads for the airline counter.

The attendant at the lost and found desk looks up, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow as Lewis approaches, his suitcase clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

“Hi, I... I think I accidentally swapped bags with someone on my flight last night,” he says, his voice coming out a little more strained than he intended. He sets your suitcase on the counter, running a hand through his hair as he tries to sound less like a sleep-deprived mess. “This isn’t mine. I’m hoping the person who has mine will come looking for theirs, too.”

The attendant nods, typing something into the computer and giving him a weary, knowing smile — the kind that says this isn’t the first time someone’s stumbled in with the wrong bag and a panicked expression.

“Just leave it here,” she says, slapping a tag on the handle and sliding it onto the cart behind her. “If the other person comes by, we’ll let them know you dropped it off.”

Lewis hesitates, fingers still wrapped around the handle, his brain fighting a ridiculous urge to hold onto the bag a little longer. He gives it a final, reluctant nudge, watching as the cart wheels it away and disappears into the maze of behind-the-scenes airport chaos.

With a deep, tired sigh, he turns and heads back to his car, hands shoved into his pockets as the sounds of the bustling terminal fade behind him.

---

Meanwhile, back in your hotel room, you’ve entered the frantic, mildly horrifying phase of a full-on internet spiral. Your laptop is balanced precariously on the edge of the bed, multiple tabs open on Lewis Pullman.

You grab your phone, pacing the small stretch of carpet between the bed and the window as you pull up his IMDb page, half-hoping there’ll be a contact button you can just click to resolve this mess. But of course, there isn’t. The closest you get is a list of his past projects and a handful of magazine interviews that all seem to paint him as the down-to-earth, quietly intense type.

Finally, after what feels like a small eternity of frantic googling, you stumble across what you think might be his manager’s number, tucked away on an obscure industry listing. You dial it, hands shaking a little as the line rings, each passing second making your pulse thud harder against your ribs.

Voicemail.

You hang up, your breath coming out in a short, frustrated huff as you toss your phone onto the bed. You’re tempted to try again, maybe leave a message this time, but something about the whole situation already feels too much like a scene from a bad rom-com, and you’re not sure you can handle the embarrassment of leaving a rambling, half-panicked voicemail for a guy you’ve never even met.

Finally, you decide to cut your losses and head back to the airport, clutching Lewis’s battered suitcase like a lifeline as you weave through the bustling lobby and make a beeline for the lost and found desk.

An attendant is sitting there, her expression unimpressed as she types away at her computer. You clear your throat, shifting your weight nervously as you set the bag on the counter.

“Hi, I think I accidentally swapped bags with someone on my flight last night,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just... I just want to leave this here, in case they come looking for it. It’s got a lot of their stuff in it, and I’m, um, really hoping mine is still somewhere in the system.”

The attendant glances at you over the top of her computer, her expression a mix of boredom and mild curiosity. She slaps a tag onto the handle of the suitcase and adds it to the same cart Lewis’s bag disappeared on earlier.

“We’ll call you if we find anything,” she says, already turning back to her screen.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you scribble your name and number on the form she slides your way. It feels weirdly final, like you’re closing the book on a strange, mildly mortifying chapter of your life.

---

A few weeks pass, and the whole suitcase fiasco slowly slips into the background noise of your daily routine — a bizarre, slightly embarrassing story you’ll probably share with friends over drinks someday.

But then, just as you’re starting to convince yourself that you’ll never see your meticulously packed suitcase again, your phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?” you say, balancing your phone against your shoulder as you fumble with your laptop.

“Hi, this is LAX Lost and Found. We’ve located your suitcase. You can come pick it up anytime this evening.”

---

You arrive at the counter a little breathless, the memory of your original suitcase still a fresh sting as you approach. But just as you step up to the desk, another figure rushes up beside you, his sneakers squeaking against the polished tile.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up my suitcase —” you both start, your voices overlapping in a messy, tangled echo.

You glance at each other, both of you wide-eyed and a little winded, and then immediately look away, the awkward tension settling like a heavy fog. He’s tall, a little scruffy around the edges, his hair tousled like he’s run his hands through it one too many times. There’s a brief flicker of recognition in his eyes, like he’s trying to place you, but then he quickly looks down, rubbing the back of his neck as if he’s suddenly aware of how tightly the air feels around you both.

The attendant rolls her eyes, bending to grab two identical suitcases from the back, her movements sharp with barely disguised exasperation.

“Here,” she says, shoving both bags onto the counter with a loud thunk. “I assume you two know which is which this time?”

You and Lewis both reach for your respective bags, pausing to double-check the scuffs and ID tags, even unzipping the top a few inches just to be sure.

When you both exhale in relief, catching each other’s eye for a split second, his mouth opens, closes, and then opens again, like he’s trying to catch the right words before they slip away.

“Uh, hey,” he starts, one hand gripping the handle of his suitcase, the other half-raised in a tentative gesture. “I, uh... just wanted to say thanks for, you know, bringing my stuff back. I know that, uh, it probably... wasn’t the most convenient thing.” He lets out a little breathy chuckle, eyes dropping to his shoes for a second. “I mean, I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t.”

You let out a small, relieved laugh, the lingering tension breaking like the first crack of a smile after a long, awkward silence.

“No, it’s fine. I... kinda panicked when I realized what I had. Almost didn’t want to touch anything, but, uh... yeah.” You bite your lip, feeling a little of the same nervous energy radiating off him.

He nods, his shoulders relaxing a bit, and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, like he’s working up the nerve for something.

“So, uh...” he hesitates, his gaze flicking back up to yours, the corners of his mouth twitching in a hesitant, lopsided grin. “Maybe we could, I dunno, grab a coffee sometime? Or, uh, dinner, if that’s... less weird?”

You blink, a little caught off guard by the sudden offer, but the earnest, slightly flustered look on his face makes it hard not to smile.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding before you can second-guess yourself. “Dinner sounds nice.”

“Cool, cool,” he says quickly, letting out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a silent cheer. He fumbles for his phone, nearly dropping it as he tries to unlock it with one hand, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Uh, here, just... give me your number and I’ll... yeah.”

You chuckle, tapping your info into his phone as he watches, his eyes crinkling at the edges when you hand it back.

“Alright, well... I’ll text you,” he says, stepping back with a little half-wave. “Thanks again. Seriously.”

You nod, your heart doing an odd little flip as you watch him turn and weave back into the airport crowd, his suitcase rolling behind him, the wheels clattering against the polished floor.

598 notes · View notes

laylahluvsasians · 3 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐘 | 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍!𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐄 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - you are a scientist that got chosen alongside other scientists and astronauts to complete a mission to the moon to find samples of lunar water. you and the captain have a bit of tension but thats never stopped you from going after what you want.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - sexual innuendos, smut, p in v, fingering.

𝐚/𝐧 - for all of you who wanted the han yun-jae oneshot, also i added an co-captain oc because i felt like it.

you are an american forensic psychologist who was transferred to south koreas science and space administration.

you spoke fluent korean so none of the korean scientists and astronauts looked down on you, in fact you were very well respected.

you were chosen to complete a mission to the moon to retrieve samples of lunar water from an abandoned research station.

the other astronauts who are going on this mission are Dr. Song Ji-an, an astrobiologist. Kim young the co-captain. Captain Han Yun-jae. Lieutenant Ryu Tae-seok, the head engineer. Dr. Hong Ga-young the team’s medical officer. Gong Soo-hyuk, the head of security. Lastly, Kim Sun leads the pilot team.

the captain han yun-jae was a strict man who didn’t like to lack his job. he was fairly young, around mid 30s. he has an daughter back on earth who is his main priority.

the co-captain kim young was much nicer to everybody. she is an astronaut and one of the most respected people in the lab.

the entire team is currently in the conference room with high executive mr.choi going over the mission.

mr choi stands in front of everyone with a stern face and hands behind his back. he begins to talk to the team.“you have done well to be apart of this team, we chose you because you are one of the very best from this entire organization.” mr choi eyes everyone before his eyes lands on you, you give him a small smile.

“this mission isn’t going to be an easy one.” his stern face not cracking a smile like usual. “captain han, choose ur partner”

captain han and the co-captain give each other a look and a slight nod before turning their attention to mr choi. “i’d like the co-captain kim young to be my partner, sir.”

Mr choi nodded. “very well. Dr.hong, choose ur partner”

Dr.hong’s eyes landed on you and she replied. “I’d like dr. y/n to be my partner. i could always use a forensics person with me.”

mr choi makes eye contact with you and smiles at you softly before continuing on to the rest of the crew.

after everyone chooses their partners mr.choi releases everyone so that you could all handle whatever you have to before ur boosted into space.

the next day.

everyone enters, some seem more tense then others. once everyone has entered the shuttle, the doors are shut and all of them make their way to their seat. the captain, co-captain, and the engineers take their place at their seats.

the engines begin to power up as everyone buckles their seatbelts. the shuttle starts moving and then, it lifts off from the ground.

the shuttle rockets into space and you can look through the glass windows at the planet earth. it becomes smaller and smaller the farther you are from it.

some people seem a little afraid to be up in space, but others seem fine. you can see how beautiful it is all the way the up here. the co-captain looks over at you, before giving you a small reassuring smile.

“we will be entering the moon’s orbit soon. so buckle your seatbelts, the gravity will be different when we enter the moon.” the captain speaks through the intercom.

as soon as the words leave the captain’s mouth, the people who seemed a little frighten before seemed even more frighten. the co-captain lets out a small sigh before her intercom comes online. “listen to the captain, if you wish to survive this trip and not float through the shuttle, i recommend you to buckle your seatbelt, the gravity with change soon.”

you then feel the shuttle entering the moon’s gravity. everyone gets a little lighter feeling as the gravity changes. the co-captain, captain, and all the engineers are hard at work piloting the ship.

but just then red lights began flashing and the ship began to malfunction causing the pilot to issue an emergency landing which worked but also didn’t.

the shuttle crashed into the moons surface hard, and barley steadied on the edge of the moon, tipping off.

people are dazed and confused after the hard landing. the lights in the shuttle flicker before losing power. a few people groan as they take off their seatbelt.

the captain is the first to get up and out of his seat. he helps the co-captain get up from her seat before he speaks. “is everyone okay?”

everyone seems to be a little confused and dizzy, but none of them seem seriously hurt. the co-captain manages to get the intercom to turn on and she speaks. “everyone seems fine, captain. just a little bit dazed from the hit.”

“we need to get out before the shuttle falls” you add into the conversation.

people stumble around, trying to get off the shuttle. the captain and co-captain help and make sure everyone is out before they move away from the shuttle.

everyone huddles around each other, and looks at the damage of the shuttle. one of the engines is blown up, a few others are smoking, and the side of the shuttle has dents all over it.

everyone steps back as the shuttle falls to the ground. the captain curses under his breath as everyone watches the shuttle fall.

“well, we can’t go back. so we need to find the research station.” the captain states as he starts walking away as the team follows him.

the team walks through the endless craters and dust all over the surface of the moon with little to no oxygen. they walk for miles, until they see a building in the distance. it slowly comes into view as they walk closer.

they finally arrive at the research base. the team takes a minute to look up at the building, it was in good shape, just looked unused.

the team is in awe at how big the building seems to be. the captain and the co-captain seem the most impressed. "it's definitely bigger than what was in the reports."

the captain and the co-captain give each other a look, before starting to walk towards the door. "let's go."

the team follows the captain as he enters the building. it looks much cleaner on the inside. the rooms seem very empty, but the equipment is still in tact.

the team wanders around the building, seeing the empty rooms and equipment still there. the equipment is still on. this building looks like everyone just left in a hurry without shutting anything off.

the captain starts lecturing everybody and the co-captain starts co-signing, it was almost annoying.

you lean over and whispered to the lieutenant. “of course she’s dickriding him”

the lieutenant hides his laugh with a fake cough when the captain looks at you both, causing you to wave at him innocently.

the captain eyes you both suspiciously before returning to his lecturing. the lieutenant let’s out a stifled laugh as the co-captain shoots both of you a look.

"stay close to each other. we know nothing about what happened down here at this base.” the entire team goes silent at the captain's stern words. they all share looks before nodding in agreement

the team begins to explore the research station. they move with caution and are very careful. the captain and the co-captain take the lead, while the others move in the middle and ur partner dr. hong and you at the back.

“the captain’s lucky he’s sexy or i would’ve quit” you whisper to dr.hong.

the lieutenant almost snorts out loud and stifles a laugh in his hand when you whisper to the doctor. the doctors face turns a light shade of pink from embarrassment. “will you shut up, he could hear you.”

you shrug and reply with no shame. “good, id let him hit.”

the lieutenant lets out a few stifled chuckles when you say that. doctor hong whips her head and gives you a look. “oh my god, do you have no filter?”

the lieutenant can barely hold his laugh in anymore as he covers his face with his arm.

she gives you another look as she crosses her arms. “i swear you’re ridiculous.”

the lieutenant can’t hold it in anymore and he starts to laugh out loud. the attention of everybody goes to you two. the captain turns around with a raised eyebrow.

doctor hong immediately tries to hide her embarrassment as the captain eyes the two of you with annoyance. the co-captain seems amused by the situation, and the rest just watch with a mix of confusion and amusement.

the co-captain struggles to hide her smile and the lieutenant is still recovering from his previous laughing fit. the captain sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly unamused. the doctor hides her face in her hands.

"can you two please be serious. we have work to do here." he says through a clenched jaw.

the lieutenant and you sheepishly nod, trying to stifle your laughs. doctor hong takes a deep breath before peeking through her fingers at the captain.

the captain gives you both a look before turning his attention back to the team. "we will spilt up and search through this entire base. you have a hour to find anything interesting. understood."

everyone voices in agreement before splitting up into smaller groups to look around the base. the team disperses into small clusters of twos and threes in different rooms and areas of the base.

as you begin to walk away, you hear the captain call out to you. “dr. y/n, come here for a moment.”

you halt your movements and turn around to see the captain staring at you. you walk over to him before he grabs your arm and pulls you aside.

he leans down to your ear, making sure no one else can hear him. "I need to speak to you privately for a moment. just us”

you blink a few times at his words before nodding in understanding. a bit curious as to why he wants to speak with just you, you follow him to a secluded corner of the room.

he stops when you’re in a small corner where no one can see you both. he leans back on the wall, and crosses his arms as he stares at you with a blank gaze.

you put ur hand on ur hip and smirk slightly, feeling a bit cocky. “like what you see?”

he doesn’t speak or respond for a few seconds as he keeps his gaze on you. a ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth before he speaks. "I wouldn’t mind staring longer, but we have a mission to complain.”

he pushes himself off the wall and stands in front of you, towering over you as the corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk again.

he leans closer so your faces are only inches apart. your heart races a little bit as you stand there, pinned in between him and the wall. he looks down at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes before he speaks again. "did you think I wouldn’t hear what you were saying to the doctor earlier?"

you tilt ur head slightly. “i was hoping you heard it actually.”

his smirk widens a little as he raises an eyebrow at your words. "oh really? and why would you want me to hear it?"

you lean in closer towards him. “so you could take my suggestion.”

now you got his full attention. he leans in even closer, his face only centimeters from yours. he lowers his voice, so only you could hear him. "and what exactly is this 'suggestion'."

“that you fuck me.” you respond with no hesitation.

he lets out a low chuckle when you say that. he puts his hand on the wall behind you, completely trapping you in between him and the wall. "is that so? you want me to fuck you? right here in this station."

you smirk proudly. “yep.”

he lets out an amused laugh as he stares into your eyes. he brings his face closer to yours. "you're ridiculous, you know that. i could get in a lot of trouble if anyone heard you say that."

you lean against the wall and cross ur arms. “awh, how so?”

he raises an eyebrow at you.

he looks at you like you grew two heads. "how so? are you serious? i’m the captain, and you’re a member of the team. we’re on a mission to collect a important research sample. it’s highly inappropriate for me to do that with a member of my team. let alone do it in the middle of this research station."

“nobody has to know.” you put on ur best seduction tone and leaned against him.

he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “oh really? and how would we keep this a secret? this place echoes, you know that right?”

“bold of you to assume im loud.” you reply sassily.

he gives another amused smirk at your words, bringing his face closer to yours again. “oh i can guarantee you’ll be screaming my name by the time i’m done with you.”

he presses his body against yours, pinning you up against the wall. he leans down so your faces are only a few centimeters apart. your heart pounds wildly in your chest as he moves his mouth your ear. “let’s see if you can keep quiet.”

he brings one of his hands up and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his face is still blank, but his eyes are filled with amusement as his thumb rubs your bottom lip.

“keep quiet and i’ll let you scream all you want after this” he whispers as his thumb moves from your lip to your chin, gently lifting it up so your mouth is aligned with his.

he doesn’t waste any time as he closes the small gap between you, capturing your mouth in a kiss. his hand grabs the back of your neck, pressing you further into his body as he kisses you deeply.

he pushes his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, as he presses his body harder against you. his lips move against yours, hungry and needy for you.

his free hand grabs your waist, his grip tight around it as he presses your body even closer against his. his thumb rubs soothing circles on your hip as his tongue continues to explore your mouth.

a moan escapes from your mouth as his lips move down to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. his hand moves from your chin to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair.

he lets out a low moan against your neck as he continues to kiss down your collarbone. you can feel his breath against your skin, hot and needy as he pushes his body even harder into yours.

he lifts you up, making ur legs wrap around his waist. he carry’s you to the control center and sits you down on the desk.

“are you wet for me?” he whispers into your ear, his voice filled with need and desire. his touch is firm and possessive, as if he’s laying claim to every inch of your body. “shall we see?”

you’re too lost in the moment, words have failed you. all you can do is nod, giving him the permission he craves.

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the anticipation building within you. his lips begin to trail down your neck, his hands gently teasing the hem of your jeans.

he undoes the button on ur jeans, carefully removing them while he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. he can sense how desperate you are for more, and his own desire matches yours.

his fingers lightly brush against the waistband of ur underwear, teasing you further as your breathing becomes uneven.

you can feel his gaze on you, as he looks up at your face, wanting to see your reaction to his touch.

his hands slide beneath the fabric of your underwear, his fingertips gently tracing along your sensitive skin, getting closer to where you wanted him the most.

his lips capture yours in a heated kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

your body is practically pleading for his touch, and he finally grants your silent wish. his fingers trail along ur core, gently stroking at first, before applying more pressure

he can hear the moan escape your lips, and he can feel just how much you want him, how much you need him.

he continues to move his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, wanting to drive you absolutely insane.

he watches your face, how you’re biting your lip, trying to hold back your moans. he loves how you look like this, how you’re completely at his mercy.

his name escapes your lips, barely more than a whisper, and he can tell how close you are. he leans to your ear, his hot breath causing your entire body to shudder.

“let me hear you” his other hand grabs you by the chin, making you look right at him as he continued to touch you in all the right ways

the look in his eyes, his words, and his touch all combine into one overwhelming feeling, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

your body is completely overwhelmed, and you’re barely able to form a sentence. “please..”

he smirks, loving how desperate you sound, how you’re practically begging him, but he knows you can take more, and he’s determined to bring you to absolute ecstasy.

he slips a finger into you, stretching you out.

your body tensed up at the sudden sensation, waves of pleasure coursing through you.

he watches you closely, his eyes dark with desire, as he begins to move his finger inside you, each motion sending shockwaves through your body.

you can barely form a thought, the room is spinning and all you can focus on is his touch, his eyes, and the overwhelming pleasure that he was causing you.

he knows he is in full control of your body and you can barely move yourself.

he adds another finger, his pace quickening, knowing exactly how to get you to the edge. “you’re so damn beautiful like this” his voice is ragged with desire, and every bit of self control he has is being used to resist the urge to just take you right then and there.

he could see how close you were and he wanted to make sure you were completely undone before he gave you the release you needed so desperately.

your body clenches around his fingers, desperate for more, and you can hardly breathe from the intense sensations coursing through you.

he curls his fingers in just the right spot, hitting a nerve that makes you see stars. you cry out his name, completely lost in the sensations he’s creating within you.

he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his words barely audible. “let go for me, sweet girl.”

his words send you over the edge, waves of pure ecstasy crashing over you as you come undone beneath his touch.

you’re trembling violently, completely undone by the overwhelming sensations, and he continues to watch you with a mixture of awe and desire. he can’t get enough of you like this, vulnerable and completely his.

his grip on you tightens, not ready to let you go just yet.

he quickly unzips his pants, and he pulls you forward, your bodies now almost touching, and leans in to kiss you desperately. the taste of your lips only makes him want you more, and he presses himself against you, his hardness already obvious.

his hands roam over your body, unable to resist the urge to touch you everywhere he could reach, to feel the heat of your skin against his own.

he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he tries to control his desire. “i need to be in you.”

the words send a shiver of excitement through you, and you can hardly believe this is finally happening.

he positions himself between your thighs, his hands on your hips.

he looks into your eyes, the intensity of his gaze almost overwhelming. “last chance to back out”

you quickly shake ur head and look into his eyes. “i want this.”

he can see the desire in your eyes and his own desire takes over completely.

he lines himself up, the tip of his cock gently pressing against your entrance. he wants to savor this moment, but he’s already so close to the edge he knows he can’t hold back.

he wants to hold back, to go slow, but he's completely overtaken by his desire for you, by how much he wants you.

he takes a deep breath and thrusts into you slowly, trying to be gentle even as his body is on autopilot, wanting nothing more than to claim you.

his mouth finds your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers how beautiful you look, how much he wants you.

he can barely hold back, but he doesn't want to be any rougher than he has to be.

he looks into your eyes, checking if he was hurting you, and when he sees that you're just as lost in the moment as he is, he loses the last bit of his self-control.

he begins to move faster, each thrust harder than the last, his grip on your hips tight, almost bruising.

he's completely possessed by the pleasure of being inside you, by the way you feel surrounding him.

he can't think, he can't speak, he can only feel, and all he can think about is how much he wants you, how much he needs you, how all he wants is to make you his. forever.

he reaches down, slipping a hand between your bodies to tease your sensitive clit, wanting to bring you the same amount of pleasure he’s experiencing.

he wants to give you everything you need, to please you in ways you didn’t know were possible, to take you to heights you’ve never reached before.

his fingers move deftly, finding all the right spots, his lips finding yours again, desperate and eager to taste you.

he swallows up your moans as he deepens the kiss, completely consumed by you. he can tell how close you are to the edge, and he wants to feel the moment you completely let go.

he moves his hand as well as his body in every way he knows you love, determined to bring you to the peak of pleasure that he was experiencing himself.

he whispers against your lips, the heat of his breath, and the sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine.“let me see you come apart for me, love” he moves ur leg ontop of his shoulder creating a new angle.

your body is completely overcome with sensation, and you’re barely able to form a thought other than the overwhelming, all encompassing sense of pleasure that is coursing through your every nerve.

the way his body feels against yours, the way he touches you, the way he looks at you as he takes you to the peak of pleasure, is all too much for you to bear.

he can see the moment you completely let go, your body clenching around him as you find your release. he holds you tightly as you ride out the waves of pleasure, his grip on you unrelenting, yet gentle at the same time.

he stares at you completely enamored by the beauty of you in your most vulnerable state.

he gently lifts you up, still not letting you go, and kisses you tenderly, the intensity between you now replaced with affection. he wraps his arms around you, gently stroking your back as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

he finally comes down from the high and rests his head on your shoulder, his breath ragged, completely spent. he holds you close, as if he can't bear to let you go, as if by holding you close, he cant help himself from whispering dirty things into your ear.

“when we get back to earth, we aren’t stopping.”

#gong yoo #gong yoo x reader #the recruiter #squid game #the salesman #the salesman x reader #seok woo x reader #han yun jae x reader #squid game men #the salesman smut #gong yoo smut #gong yoo squid game #the silent sea #coffee prince #train to busan #han jeong won x reader

270 notes · View notes

shadesofmauve · 4 months ago

Text

Alliance Normandy SR-2 redesign: Deck 5

We've finally arrived at the bottom: deck 5, home of the hangar, the Kodiak shuttles, and now, Marine Land!

There are some oddities with this deck, because I was guessing at how fast the hull tapers towards the bottom at the back (I'm working off references that show front and rear elevations, but that only shows you the broadest points). I messed up something with my core chamber measurements and had to make the entire rear end (heh) slightly bigger here before posting, but the deck design errs on the side of narrower.

Hangar

When I wrote A Star To Steer Her By I ignored the silly shipbuilding because I was focused on a relationship (and because it wasn't supposed to be a door-stopper novel. Oops), but as I went on things like "this hangar should be regularly exposed to vacuum, how can you leave gym equipment in here" bothered me more and more. By the time of Sunset and Evening Star I couldn't let that state of affairs stand. So: this hangar is regularly exposed to vacuum. No fancy force fields that keep in the air but let out shuttles. You don't leave anything in here that isn't protected from vacuum and strapped down.

The hangar is the limiting factor in the size of the entire ship; it has to fit between the central elevator and the hangar door, and it must fit two Kodiaks. To reach this size I had to make the Kodiaks boxier; my drawings are taller for their length than the game models. They still seat twelve, and there's room for one to do a 180 on it's axis while the other is in its cradle. The hangar floor slopes down slightly towards the door in the middle, and the Kodiaks are 'shelved' to the sides.

Cortez runs the flight deck from the exact same place he is in game, but now he has bulkheads and windows between himself and the cold death of space. Airlocks on either side give access to the flight deck. There are also giant doors straight into the deck 4 cargo bays, but those won't open unless the hangar is pressurized.

Marine Land

Jack's Sulking Pit is now a gym, with weights, treadmill, stationary bike, heavy bags, and mats for sparing (and occasionally making pillow forts for evacuee toddlers). Mats are usually stored stowed against the wall, and other equipment can be moved as needed.

To port are the marine berths. The usual compliment of marines is a dozen, including their unit leader, but there are twelve bunks as well as the officer's tiny cabin (because there's no point wasting the space, and you never know). Other than their semi-privacy, the marine racks are no different from the enlisted racks on the two decks above.*

*"Except for the smell." — the rest of the crew, probably.

Berthing the marines on deck 5 is all about quick access to their arms, armor, and transport. Directly across from the marine berths is the entrance to the locker room and armory. After armoring up they grab their weapons and can get to the shuttle through an airlock entrance in the armory. On the way back, they reverse the process; stow weapons, strip off armor — often dropping damaged plating into the recycler chute as they go by — strip down, and shower.

The Alliance military is gender neutral, and nowhere is this as obvious as the marine lockers. The marine unit regularly strips down in front of each other; it's just part of getting ready for work. You can't be body-shy and be an Alliance Marine.

(I like to think the separate bathrooms on the crew deck were the Illusive Man's weird traditionalist decision. Sometimes the gendered-bathroom thing starts to grate on Bo Huan, the third-watch pilot, so they come down to deck five to use the locker room showers, leading Joker to quip "Ah, the third gender: marine!")

More engineering, and the answers to a few questions

Ladders from deck 4 lead down to another engineering area on the hangar level. It's not connected to the main areas of the deck by conventional corridors, but it is accessible through the warren of service passages that run throughout the ship. More of those access-ways lead aft of the eezo core chamber to the fusion plant (not shown). Because the core chamber narrows faster than the ship, it's easier to get around it here than it is on the engineering deck, where the core chamber is at it's widest but the hull has started to narrow. These access tunnels are rarely comfortable to get through, though they often open out into areas that are easier to work in, or into surprising pockets of unused space. They may require crawling or climbing, or clambering over obstacles.

All the maintenance accesses are kept pressurized and aired up, but the habitable area shown on these posts is wrapped in an inner hull, and the doors for maintenance access are all pressure doors: if a hit damages the tunnel you use to access the ship's innards, it won't kill all the crew in the room next to it.**

**It will obliterate the illicit still and the not-actually-a-secret-make-out-nest, as well as anyone stupid enough to be distilling and***/or fucking in those locations, which is why we don't lollygag between the hulls in combat, private!

***AND?****

****Some people are remarkably talented.

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

82 notes · View notes

startreksetplans · 8 months ago

Text

Olympic Class idea

Had a (non-canon) idea about the Olympic class - what if it could saucer separate...

The two parts of the ship

Sphere - holds the warp core & associated systems, nacelles, general engineering, bridge, crew quarters, and crew facilities

Module - Hospital that can be sealed off from the main ship (in case of contagions). It has a shuttlebay to receive medical shuttles, docking ports for ships. Also probably a lot of transporters.

Why separate? Sometimes a hospital must remain in orbit of a planet for quite a long time. Why not have the drive do something else in the mean time.

The Sphere could dock with other modules

Colony Module - carries all the colonists, supplies, construction material etc. When delivered to site, the module becomes an orbiting space station, providing docking and transporter systems for supply ships.

Cargo Module - either bulk freight, or specialised hazardous material such as Neutronic Fuel. Ships going "where no one has gone before" need resupply now and again in the field rather than turn around and head back home for supplies.

Science Stations - manned or unmanned, easier to build at a construction facility than on-site near that black hole you want to study

Sensor Pods - the Olympic sphere could accompany science ships with large mission specific sensor pods. Planet scanning MRI machines for example. [side note: this is what I think the Oberth has - a large uninhabited sensor pod. Held away from the ship due to dangerous emissions. It was meant to be scanning the entire planet, not just surface scans.]

With separation, the Olympic goes from a single purpose to a flexible multi-purpose support ship.

In these pictures, it looks as if the mount for the nacelles struts is resting on top of the long body module.

The original model blueprints for the ship model had different nacelles - perhaps the sphere section had an in-universe refit.

If you wanted to modernise / refit an Olympic ship, taking out the one ship does not prevent the modules beings used by another Olympic in the meantime.

#star trek #tng #headcanon #non canon #ship #blueprint

61 notes · View notes

ivystoryweaver · 7 months ago

Text

Cosmic - Poe Dameron

Episode 2: This Island Earth previous | next

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Happy Poevember!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader

Summary: Clearing away wreckage, explaining explaining, Poe learns about bathrooms and tries to cook

Content/Notes: This chapter gets us from crash landing to domesticity. No warnings except food and injury

Word Count: 2.5k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"You're saying you're from..." Your eyes widened as you pointed up at the sky. It would certainly explain his advanced and strange looking jet.

Your expression of shock was mirrored on Poe's face. "Hey, this is news to me too. I've never been out of our galaxy. I didn't even know I could...not in an X-wing anyway."

"X-wing?" Your eyes followed his to the wreckage.

"My starfighter."

You swallowed hard, not sure how to feel. The 'I'm not from around here' explanation certainly seemed to make the most sense. Poe didn't appear to be a man who'd lost his mind. Even if he was, how else could you explain the...X-wing?

"Where's the nearest space station? Where could I go for repairs?"

You must have stared at him for a full minute, but seeing that he was seriously asking, you shrugged hopelessly. "We don't have those. No space stations. They launched a space shuttle earlier this year. I think it's kept in Florida. But it's nothing like this," you tried to explain. "We don't have anything like your..."

"Starfighter," he supplied. "No starfighters? No space stations? How do you go off world?" He asked earnestly. "The shuttles? Will they take me to the closest space station?"

So you spent the next half hour explaining to Poe that the people of Earth never actually left Earth. Sure, there had been a couple of trips up to Earth's moon, but no other planets. You also explained how space travel was rare and expensive, and entirely uncommon. There were no humans or sentient species to your awareness on neighboring planets in the solar system. Nor did Earth humans possess the capabilities, at this point, to explore the vastness of the Milky Way galaxy.

Poe remarked that your little planet seemed to be an island unto itself.

He asked endless questions about ships, which you called airplanes and jets - about how none of them, to your knowledge had hyperdrives or sublight engines or ion engines. Whatever those were.

"I honestly don't know much about that stuff," you admitted sheepishly. "Only what I see in the movies."

One of Poe's thick eyebrows lifted curiously. "Movies?"

"Um, yeah, like television shows, but longer." You waved your hands in front of you. "On a big screen. You know, people act in them and tell stories. Pretend stories, for entertainment."

"Ohhh, like holos," he nodded. "We have those. Sort of."

On and on the two of you went, speaking quite technically about space travel. It blew your mind to think that Poe could really be from another world, another galaxy even. You also talked about whether or not he was human. He assured you that he was, although he let you know that his galaxy was full of sentient life of all kinds - human and otherwise. Beings like Wookiees, Twi'leks, Rodians, Hutts and Ewoks and Ithorians - who apparently had four throats.

Poe asked how long before the sun would rise, suggesting that you try to haul away some of the wreckage before that time. You decided to take your truck over to get your tractor. Using all the tools at your disposal, including hay bailing equipment, you hauled away as much wreckage as possible and put it in one of your old, spare buildings. Even with the machinery, it was exhausting work, especially for Poe, who continued limping.

And you didn't finish by sunup, nor even by mid-morning. You could only pray that someone wouldn't come poking around asking questions. Thankfully, the smoke seemed to have cleared after whatever Poe did to quickly put the fire out.

With some strategic tarps and hay, you tried to cover the remaining wreckage until you could work some more under the cover of darkness.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Do you have a fresher somewhere?"

Dirt from the night’s labor and soot from the fiery crash covered the sharp angles of Poe’s face. His lips, full and plush were split and parched with thirst. Dark curls, wild and untamed, fell carelessly over his forehead. With eyes the color of tilled soil after rain and a gaze that fixed on to you with a silent plea, he looked at you like a lost boy.

Seeing the confusion on your face, Poe tried to explain. "Uh, to clean up? To wash, with water?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, let me show you. Follow me." You led him up the stairs to the bathroom, wishing there was a shower for him on the first floor, so he wouldn't have to use stairs with his sore leg.

Just then, an orange streak darted down the stairs, giving Poe a start. "What was that?" He breathlessly questioned, more curious than actually frightened.

"That was my cat, Cheddar. I have two more out in the barn, but Cheddar thinks he lives in the house." You waved your hand dramatically. "Welcome to my crazy farm. Do you have cats in your galaxy?"

He smiled, looking past you for a glance at the small creature. "Loth cats, yeah."

"Do you have any pets?" You inquired, leading him into the bathroom.

"No animals. Just...my droid. BB-8."

"Droid?"

"Like an android."

"Like a robot?"

Poe explained to you a little about his spunky, round droid, so full of intelligence and personality. A sadness lingered in his eyes when he spoke of the little thing.

"I hope you'll tell me more about him," you said, pulling back the shower curtain. "But I'll let you get cleaned up first." You gave him a quick tutorial on how to work the faucet.

Easing back around him in the small room, while attempting not to violate his personal space, you grabbed a towel and washcloth from the cabinet. "Here you go. I can get you some clothes. They were my father's. Probably a little big, but..." Quickly scurrying away, you gathered some faded navy sweatpants, a gray t-shirt and your dad's old, knit cardigan. No men's underwear. Oh well. Perhaps a trip to the store was in order.

Poe was waiting in the bathroom doorway when you returned. "Sorry, this is all I have."

"Thank you so much for helping me." His eyes flickered down the shape of your body briefly. "You must be exhausted."

"Hey, I'm not the one who crash landed," you chuckled.

Scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he sheepishly smiled. "Yeah, not my best work. I'm a good pilot, I swear."

"Uh-huh, sure," you teased. "My field would beg to differ."

Reaching out for your arm, he squeezed gently, but his touch did not linger. "I'm sorry. I'll help you fix it, if I can."

"It's okay, Poe," you gently returned. Now that you were getting a good look in the daylight, he was really handsome. It was more than just the cut of his jaw, his dark, delicious curls and his soulful brown eyes. There seemed to be an inner goodness and sincerity that was magnetic.

Clearing your throat, you took a step back. "I have to go take care of my animals, but when I come back, I can make you something to eat,"

"Oh...I can help you. I didn't realize - "

"No, it's all right," you assured him. "I'll introduce you later. You clean up. I mean, you did survive a fiery crash, right? Besides, you're hurt." You nodded to his leg.

He shrugged. "I'll live."

After your chores, you found Poe dressed in your father's clothes, which looked rather adorable on him since your dad was just over six feet tall and Poe was definitely shorter than that. He looked as if he'd leaned over and fallen asleep immediately over the arm of the couch.

Cheddar had curled up to his side in the most affectionate display you'd ever seen from your fussy feline.

Although you were starving and exhausted, you decided to hit the shower yourself. Maybe you could shirk some of your farm responsibilities for the day, after a shower, a warm meal and a good nap.

It didn't happen in that order. After your shower, you got dressed and passed out on your bed.

You awoke to the smell of food. Chicken, specifically. Bolting out of bed, you scurried down to find Poe cooking some chicken legs on a skewer over an open flame on your gas stove eye, with Cheddar circling his legs affectionately.

"Hey, I hope this okay. I found some...it said chicken legs in your cooling chamber. And I thought I would cook it on your stove. I didn't realize it was a gasser. I wasn't sure what pan to use because I don't want to burn anything, so I just did this."

"I am so sorry," you chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you scooped up Cheddar for a quick snuggle. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. Was this little guy bothering you?"

"Not at all." Poe had woken up with the strange feline curled up on his lap. As he petted the soft creature, he had felt it purr and noticed how short its ears were compared to a loth cat.

Depositing Cheddar onto the floor, you quickly reached for a pan so Poe wouldn't have to continue holding and turning the meat.

"Is this okay to eat? It's just meat, right?"

"Yeah, it's all right." You smiled at him, feeling something tug at your heart at how strange this all must seem to him. It was certainly bizarre to you. "I can make some vegetables to go with the chicken and some rice," you offered. "Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." Poe stepped aside, watching carefully as you took command of the kitchen, his mind reeling with a thousand worries and curiosities. "Would it be okay if you describe to me what you're doing?" He softly asked, moving beside you tentatively. "That way, I can learn the names of things, and how they work."

So that's what you did, sparing no detail as you used a knife and a cutting board to chop potatoes and carrots. On and on you went, describing the boiling of rice and the toasting of dinner rolls. Most of it seemed to be pretty universal, but you were able to teach one another a few words here and there.

"Do you drink caf?" He questioned as you set the table while the food finished cooking.

"Um, caf, like caffeine? Coffee? Dark brown, made of grounds, from beans? Looks like dirt?"

"That's the one," he grinned.

"Absolutely. Want some?"

"Please."

That word sent a shiver through your body, but you brushed it off.

As the two of you enjoyed your lunch, you apologized again for falling asleep and leaving Poe on his own.

"Please, you have no idea what your help means to me," he told you, rather seriously. "I could've landed anywhere. On any world. Or...this Russia, you were talking about. I could be in prison somewhere, or spinning out in space. But I landed here. Believe me, I've had it a lot worse."

"Is it really so bad, where you're from? With the First Order?" You asked him.

Setting down his fork, he swallowed his bite of food. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before resting both forearms on the table's edge and folding his hands together. "Sometimes it feels like every time I get in my X-wing, it's life or death. It's been kind of non-stop really."

"That sounds exhausting," you softly replied. "And scary. You must be very brave to stand up against them."

"I try to be," he answered, eyes meeting yours. "That's why I have to get back. There has to be someone I can talk to in your government. Do you have a senate, or a leader? A chancellor? I have to see what I can do about my ship."

Realizing what a dire situation he might be in, you sighed heavily. "Poe, it's not that simple."

"Why isn't it? If we just explain to them, like I did to you - "

"No one is going to understand, or even believe you," came your emphatic reply. "They'll probably do a hundred experiments on you because they'll think you're an alien, or that..." You trailed off, trying not to upset him.

"They'll think what? That I'm crazy?"

Your eyes dropped to your plate.

"Is that what you think, Trix? You think I'm crazy?"

"Of course not."

Pushing back from the table, Poe stood, pacing away and back a few times, despite his slight limp. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. None of it makes sense."

You could see the stress rolling off him. He was certainly handling the situation better than you would be, in his shoes.

But you didn't know this man. You weren't sure if he needed time alone, or some way to blow off steam or a hug or something to punch. So you decided to tell him what your father used to tell you.

"Let's just take it one day at a time, okay?"

He stopped pacing to listen to you.

"We worked so hard off clearing your ship away, and we probably need to go back tonight. We need to get it cleaned up and stored, somehow, no matter how long it takes."

He nodded, giving you that lost boy, puppy-eyed face again, so you kept talking.

"We need a cover story for why you're here - where you came from. The ship, we can hopefully hide. If the government saw you crash land, they would probably already be here, but just in case, we need a better explanation than the fact that you quite literally fell out of the sky."

"Right. Good idea."

"And you need a place to stay. Some clothes and personal things."

Standing up from the table, you reached for your plate to start clearing the dishes while you talked. "I have a spare bedroom. Two actually, but one is pretty small and up by the attic. It was my room when I was a teenager. Anyway, um...I could use a little help around here, once your leg heals. You could take the spare room, if you want, and work for room and board. I don't really have any spare cash."

"You would let me stay here, past today?" Poe sincerely questioned, dark eyes wide and hopeful.

"I don't see why not. I mean, where else will you go?"

His shoulders sagged in relief as he heavily sighed. "Thank you. That means so much to me."

"You're welcome," you softly returned.

"Can I ask you something?" He went on, easing toward you.

You shifted from foot to foot, feeling the need to set down the dish you were carrying as his gaze locked on you. "Mm-hmm."

"Are you always this nice to complete strangers who crash into your field?"

"No one's ever crashed..." You trailed off, realizing he was only teasing. "Well, it's like I said. You fell right out of the sky. And I'm not one to turn down free help."

He laughed then, but it was hollow and tired and worried. The merriment in it would not reach his eyes. "I promise you I'm not crazy. I really am from another galaxy."

Laying your hand on his arm, you squeezed gently. "Poe. I believe you."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my tag list

#poevember #poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron x reader #cosmic fic #poe dameron x earth!reader #tw food

113 notes · View notes

marlynnofmany · 1 year ago

Text

Mystery Colors

Our first delivery after a bit of shore leave at the local space station, and it was a stealth mission. The client didn't say why they needed this delivery to be handed over without catching the attention of the authority figures at their work site, but they were paying extra for it. I wasn't part of the conversation. I don't know what other details Captain Sunlight got from them to make sure this was a safe risk on our account. But she was always smart about that sort of thing, and at any rate, she assured us all that we didn't need to worry. Flying in to an unpopulated area out of sight of the main science installation would be fine.

We trusted that, but we were curious. And since the client was human, the rest of my crewmates volunteered me for the delivery in hopes of wheedling out some tactful details.

I didn't object. I wanted to know too.

So I got into my exo suit, checking all the seams and settings even though the safety gear was inspected regularly. This planet wasn’t even all that dangerous according to the readings — it was mostly terraformed to an acceptable standard, though the air wasn’t quite up to standard levels yet — but this felt like a good time to be careful. I wasn’t likely to be entrusted with any secrets if I passed out from lack of oxygen.

Paint was waiting for me with the box. “We’re almost there!” she said, scaly tail swishing behind her. “Best of luck!”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the box and wondering for the umpteenth time what was inside it. The logos were all from a megastore at the space station. Zhee had picked it up, and it was already sealed when he signed for it as official intermediary courier. The person at the checkout counter hadn’t known what it held either.

The engines made their usual landing hum. Since our ship had good landing gear and reliable artificial gravity, it would have been easy to miss otherwise. Paint scuttled out of the way while I walked toward the exit. Blip and Blop peeked around a corner, frills waving in curiosity. Zhee was parked in a cross hallway, not trying to hide.

He tapped one bug leg on the floor and said, “I hope to hear any juicy secrets first.”

Before I could answer that, Mur scooted by in a quiet slap of tentacles and put in, “I’ll be in the cockpit to see if Wio can eavesdrop with the sensors.”

I left Zhee to grumble about it and threaten to tattle on Mur for bothering the pilots. We all knew Zhee was just jealous that he was too big to perch in an out-of-the-way corner. At least he wasn’t Trrili’s size; she barely fit in the cockpit at all.

The door panel said the airlock was engaged, and the air outside was as expected. I stepped through the first door with the box held tight, letting it close behind me with a shush of air that drowned out the bickering in the hallway.

The outside door opened to let in bright sunlight, alien air, and distinctly less gravity. I didn’t notice that last until I stepped out onto the ramp and nearly made a fool of myself. Caught my balance, though. I tried not to leave finger-shaped dents in the box as I hopped awkwardly down the ramp and mentally kicked myself for not reading the briefing more thoroughly. I’d been focused on the air and hadn’t noticed that the gravity was lower than I was used to.

No time to worry about that now, though: a pair of human shapes in bright red exo suits were approaching from the edge of the flat rocky area. A metal roof visible over the boulders behind them was probably their own shuttle. Everything else in sight was rocks in a range of gray-to-orange colors. A hill in the distance held tinges of green that could have been plants.

“Hello!” said the human who was one step ahead of the other. She sounded a little younger than me. Her face wasn’t visible through the reflective visor. So clandestine. “Thank you for being prompt.”

I said, “We aim to please,” and managed to stop moving without smashing into either of them. They had clearly been working here long enough to get a feel for the gravity. “Here is your package,” I said as I handed it over, “And here is the payment tablet,” I added once my hands were free. I unhooked it from my waistband and passed it to the second human.

The first was busy ripping the box open like a kid with an anticipated present.

“Oh good, it’s the right kind!” she said in relief. She set the box on the dusty ground and pulled out something that I recognized as a turbo cleaning wand, the kind usually marketed towards the parents of small children. I’d seen artists use them too, both for cleanup and for making some neat inverted-color murals.

Not wanting to sound like I was doing more than making conversation, I said, “I’ve heard those are good ones.”

“They’re definitely the fastest,” the human said. “Lemme just see if they work on this particular ink.” She opened a thigh pocket with a rip of velcro, and took out what looked like a chunk of tile with deep pink scribbles on it.

The other human finished with the payment tablet and handed it back. “They’d better work,” he said. “If not, we’re toast.”

“How come?” I asked with concern in my voice, hoping that wasn’t too much.

I shouldn’t have worried. The first human activated the wand and wiped the tile clean in one swift pass, then laughed with clear relief. “Saved! We should have just enough time to get everything before the inspectors arrive. Now we just have to hope Julian didn’t leave any more of his rude notes somewhere we haven’t found. The shopping lists and tally marks would be bad enough, but his stuff would get all three of us canned immediately.”

I looked in the direction of the large encampment I’d seen from space. “Are you working this whole place alone?”

She laughed and put the tile back in her pocket. “Oh no, we’re just the only humans here. Everybody else is a Waterwill. Did you know those guys can’t see the color magenta?”

“Really!” I said. This was news to me.

She pulled a pen out of a different pocket. “These are completely invisible if you write on a pale surface. Which has been handy for keeping track of specimens when we feel lazy, and leaving each other notes by the door..”

“…But Julian took it a bit too far,” added the other guy. “With this gravity, he jumps and writes insults on the ceiling.”

“Ah,” I said. “I see why that might not go over well with inspectors. Who are not Waterwills, I take it?”

“Nope,” said the first human as she stowed the wand back in the box then picked the whole thing up. “But they’re not coming until tomorrow, so we should be able to clean it all away in time. Even if we have to do some quiet climbing around in the middle of the night.”

“Hey, what’s that?” the other human interrupted, reaching for something else in the box. He came up with a bundle of green cloth.

“Oh!” said the first. “That’s for Julian. I’m going to say it was at the bottom of the last food shipment as an error.”

When the guy unfolded it, the cloth proved to be a T-shirt patterned in green specks of multiple shades. The side toward me had black text that said “The Best.”

But the two humans were laughing about something on the back. When they saw my confusion, the guy turned it around.

Among all those green dots were a series of orange ones that spelled out “I’m colorblind! And also an asshole.”

The first human explained to me, “Julian is actually red-green colorblind. The magenta pens were for his benefit originally, since they don’t blend with the green ones like red does, and sometimes we need to chart things in color-coding. But—”

“But the Waterwills can’t see it at all,” the second continued. “So they were retired. Officially.”

“I see,” I said. “Well. Best of luck in cleaning up his messes!”

“Thank you!” they chorused. Once the shirt was stuffed into the bottom of the box and the lid was safely shut, they gave me a wave and bounded across the low-gravity rocks toward their waiting shuttle.

I made my awkward way back up the ramp to where my alien coworkers were waiting. I was considering an impromptu color vision test for them, just to see if something bright and obvious to me was invisible someone else onboard.

But then I realized that it would lead to a contest for smell-vision, and I was absolutely rubbish at that.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #science fiction #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #time for more fun and games with #color vision #colorblindness #aliens

135 notes · View notes

lonestarflight · 2 years ago

Text

A modified Space Shuttle Main Engine is static fired at Marshall's Technology Test Bed.

Date: December 22, 1993

NASA ID: MSFC-9400164

#Space Shuttle Main Engine #SSME #Rocketdyne RS-25 #RS-25 #Rocket Engine #Space Shuttle #Orbiter #NASA #Space Shuttle Program #Marshall Space Flight Center #MSFC #Huntsville #Alabama #December #1993 #my post

85 notes · View notes

f-104starfighter · 2 months ago

Text

The North American X-15 is no ordinary aircraft; it is the fastest manned aircraft ever flown. Tearing across the sky at Mach 6.7, the only way to go faster than this is to dream. Unlike traditional jet-powered planes, the X-15 is powered by a rocket motor. The main difference between a rocket motor and a jet engine has to do with air intake and compression. A jet will use spinning blades to compress air, mix it with fuel, and ignite the mixture, expanding it out the back of the engine. It needs constant airflow because, without it, there is no compression and thus no expansion, which is why jet engines cannot be used in space. A rocket has no mechanism to compress air because its fuel and air are already compressed. Rockets have two fuel tanks, a liquid fuel tank and a liquid oxidizer tank. both of these liquids are pumped into the combustion chamber, where they are ignited and expand out of the nozzle of the engine. Rockets can generate magnitudes more thrust and travel much faster than a traditional jet, but they are far less fuel efficient. Because of this inefficiency, the X-15 did not take off on its own power, instead, it was launched from a B-52 Stratofortress, similarly to a parasite fighter. The X-15 would only experience powered flight for the first two minutes of flight, and the rest of the flight would be an unpowered glide down to the surface. The X-15 had a landing speed far too fast for an ordinary runway or landing gear; it required a dry lake bed to be used as a landing strip. The X-15 was created so that NACA (later NASA) could research space flight and and how controls surfaces would react at hypersonic speeds. Because the X-15 flew in both high and low density environments, it needed 2 different control methods. In the dense lower atmosphere, it used conventional control systems to orient itself, but in the less dense upper atmosphere, it used tiny rockets mounted on the nose and wings to control the aircraft. Two control surfaces were needed because in the upper atmosphere, there is less air moving over the control surfaces, which means the aircraft cannot be controlled. Unlike traditional aircraft made out of steel and aluminum, the X-15 had to be coated in a special heat-resistant alloy because the air resistance at high speeds creates so much friction on the skin that it would melt traditional materials. The Information collected during the X-15 program would contribute to the development of the Gemini, Mercury, Apollo, and Space Shuttle programs. One of the 3 X-15s was recently renovated at the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar and will be on display in the National Air and Space Museum in 2026 once renovations are complete.

#aircraft #airplane #aviation #fighter jet #engineering #space #science #nasa #nasa science #air force #astronaut #rocketry #history

21 notes · View notes

vanderbilt-draws · 1 year ago

Note

ur life of lux x star trek crossover is actually the greatest thing ever

oho, ty!! ive actually been drawing more of it (and rewatching all of life of luxurys videos/trying to catch up on luxury dark), and considering maybe making it into a short comic/fic if enough ppl are interested:D

story stuff under the cut

OK SO my main idea for the story was that parker and chester were an engineer (chester) and stellar cartographer/some type of physicist possibly (parker) working in starfleet. (originally they were both gonna be from the same department but i thought it would make more sense for one of them to be an engineer in this au. i needed parker to be a blue shirt specifically so people would mistake him for a medical officer when really hes just The Stars Guy and we could have a scene like "you dont need a piece of paper to help people chester" sifjfjcj)

basically, its kind of a situation like the episode of tng where they have to go into a wormhole for Plot Reasons, but it turns out that one end of the wormhole is Unstable and they get STUCK super super far out of federation space in a tiny little shuttlecraft (well, the ferengi get stuck in that episode bc the humans have plot armour lmao)

basically the au would follow parker and chester as they try to get back to federation space, but parker is A Good Person so he keeps taking the shuttle off-course to answer distress calls to see if he can help. also occasionally they land on space-faring civilisations' planets just to like,,stock up on amenities or get some diversity in their environments so they dont go insane

every time they land on a planet, they end up in some crazy situation because theyre extremely unlucky. the lil drawings above are of two ideas i had (one of which is obviously the most recent luxurydark video but Aliems n with more of my storytelling style). i think the one with the romulan would be more like the life of luxury video where they were investigating the older brother who was neglecting his siblings? except they would be landing to try to answer the distress call of a crashed romulan ship with only one or two survivors and end up staying down there for multiple days to try to help

i do have a couple other ideas which ive been rotating in my head, if anyones interested in more of my insane ramblings shfhfjgj

#my art #star trek #star trek tng #ask #life of luxury #parkster #star trek au

105 notes · View notes

trekmupf · 1 year ago

Text

Trapped in a Car With Someone You Don’t Want to Be Trapped in a Car With

Pro

Kirk being torn between his "duties" in the military structure of Starfleet and the duty to his crew / his friends

McCoy waking up and immediately doctoring

The way McCoy sits in the chair; Once again I'm stating the obvious: McCoy is very beautiful in this episode and his winged eyeliner is everything

We're getting to know Spock better: his problems connecting with the human crew and understanding them (something he learns later on, which is great character development), a new side to his logic, the fact that he's not driven by power (getting command)

Also the fact that the McCoy / Spock dynamic this early on the show is different from later on: the disagreements are less friendly banter and more actual fights, McCoy doesn't know Spock that well (thinking he's interested in power / command is wrong) and they don't work together as well, which is a great way to mark their development in later episodes

there's also a clear separation between Spock and the others, Spock's alone and doesn't have someone to confide in; later on Spock and McCoy are a duo

especially the scene where they're fighting over the funeral service highlights why McCoy, Spock and Kirk work best together and what can happen when one of them isn't around to balance them out

Spock is genuinely so irritated by his logic not working, he's so visibly annoyed several times

"Strange. Step by step I have made the the correct and logical decisions, and yet two men have died"

Spock's failures as a commander also highlights what makes Kirk such a great captain, as he manages to use logic and command while also balancing the human and empathetic side of it

Spock learning so much and growing during this, technically a great leader but he learns his own limits

Scotty best repair boy, the way he crouches and crawls into spaces to repair the shuttle and then engineer magic!

Also Scotty's attitude in the face of death is so great and telling about him. He realizes first what's going to happen and accepts it calmly, smiles and compliments Spock, having an air of comfort and peace around him

@ Kirk and McCoy in the last scene, how close do you guys need to be to have a conversation?

Kirk pointing out that Spock's action was based on hope and was therefore human and Spock trying to explain it away as a non emotional and therefore Vulcan action and the others just like him so much while he does so; it's not mean spirited but just lovely and such a great contrast to the tension earlier in the episode

So many of the shots inside the shuttle are accidently funny due to the camera angles they had use because of the tight space

Direct and straightforward episode set up: We have limited time (medicine needs to be brought to another planet) and the shuttle with two of our main characters gets lost in a phenomenon

Kirks desperation rising during his scenes the longer his crew is lost

great tension by the double plot: the immediate threat on the planet and the time pressure on the ship

I absolutely prefer the original special effects over the CGI remake. Look at how good the shuttle craft looks in comparison – taken from this youtube video which I recommend

Con

even for Trek the monsters are sort of shit

very minor but I'm annoyed at the uniform inconsistency, its yellow shirts not red shirt dying, the travesty

I know the commissioner is there to remind us of the time frame but his constant repeating starts to be annoying. I'm Kirk, just done with this guy (even though yes, he's right)

everyone but the yellow shirts who die have shit to do and opinions to have except the women who is just scared and doesn't wanna die

Counter: none

Quote "Did I? I may have been mistaken" - Spock "Well, at least I lived long enough to hear that" - McCoy

Moment: When the group sits in the doomed transporter together, knowing they're about to die but they seem collected

Free Bones because you can see his great make up in this one

Summary: Not quite bottle episode (even though it feels like it) that focusses on Spock and his struggles as a (half-) vulcan working with humans and his disconnect with them using a gripping and tense narrative; Over the course of the episode Spock learns a lot about humans, his connection to them and himself and he and his companions gather more respect for each other Previous Episode - Next Episode - All TOS Reviews

#star trek tos #star trek #star trek the original series #the galileo seven #wewatchtos #wewatchstartrek

55 notes · View notes

noona-clock · 4 months ago

Text

Encounter - Part 3

Genre: Star Trek!AU, Enemies-to-Lovers Lite

Pairing: Chanyeol x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2. 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,692

Going into a career in Starfleet, especially one on a starship, you knew there was a chance something like this could happen. Space was unpredictable, to say the least; you never knew what could happen and when.

But Starfleet's mission to explore and research and discover certainly didn't disregard the fact that anything could happen in space. In fact, it based most of its protocol on the unpredictability and did everything it could to prepare its students for handling that unpredictability.

Before this away mission, though, you'd viewed the 'anything can happen' concept as just that -- a concept. It was something that was real, certainly, but for other people. Not for you!

Oh, how you hated to be proven wrong.

"Okay," you breathed, rubbing the bridge of your nose to try and stave off the headache from your injury. "We have enough rations and supplies, so unless all of our equipment was damaged in the crash, we can still go out there and complete the mission."

The reply you received was not one you expected, but in hindsight, one you should've seen coming: Chanyeol scoffed.

"The second I realized I would have to crash-land this thing, I knew the mission was no longer priority one. What we have to focus on now is getting the shuttle repaired and getting a distress call out there to let them know we're stranded," he rebutted.

His words made you furrow your brow and tilt your head curiously at him. "The mission is only supposed to be three days long," you reminded him. "First of all, we can absolutely survive here for three days, and as soon as the Solstice realizes we haven't come back, they'll send a search party. Second of all, are you that confident you can manage to fully repair this shuttle and its systems by yourself in three days?"

Chanyeol clutched one hand to his heart with a groan and said, "I'm hurt that you think I can't."

"Not by yourself, no!" you laughed. "We were sent here with a job to do. You and I are okay, we have our rations, we have our equipment -- do you realize how much of a waste it would be to not go out there and explore this place? I mean, we still need to figure out exactly what happened! Quite frankly, repairing the shuttle is our last priority."

"Oh, my sweet, little scientist," Chanyeol chuckled.

"Don't --"

"Sorry, sorry," he interrupted, holding up his hands in defeat. "I forgot you don't like to be called anything having to do with 'sweet.' My apologies."

...Unfortunately, it seemed like he was sincere. And the only reason his sincerity was unfortunate was because it meant you couldn't, in good conscience, just roll your eyes and ignore him.

"Apology accepted," you muttered.

"What I meant by that is it's clear you're not an engineer," he smirked.

"If I was, you wouldn't be here," you pointed out. "This is a scientific study. You were only assigned because someone needed to fly the shuttle and maintain its systems."

Almost immediately following your statement, Chanyeol opened his mouth, the expression on his face clearly one of 'gotcha!'

But then he obviously realized you'd said maintain. And maintaining the systems of the shuttle was not exactly the same as almost fully repairing them.

So, he closed his mouth and huffed in frustration.

And, you know what? If he could admit you were right (even though he hadn't actually said anything out loud), then you could come up with a compromise.

"Listen," you began. "You are more than welcome to work on repairing the shuttle, but I will be out on that planet collecting samples like I was assigned to, okay?"

Instead of accepting your idea, Chanyeol stood up from his chair at the main console and began slowly walking over to you. "Not by yourself, you're not," he said without a hint of teasing. In fact, he almost sounded... angry?

"I have a phaser, a tricorder, and a very keen sense of direction. I'll be fine."

"No, absolutely not," Chanyeol insisted, shaking his head as he came to stand right in front of you. "You're not going out there alone, and that's an order."

"Excuse me?" you scoffed, tilting your head slightly to meet his eye. "Since when are you my commanding officer? We're the same rank, you can't give me orders."

Chanyeol stared back at you, his gaze so intense that it almost made you uncomfortable. But you were certainly not going to back down from this.

"I'm going with you," he stated after almost a minute of tense silence. "We'll go out when it's light and come back here to work on the shuttle the minute it starts getting dark."

Well, there was no logical reason for you to refute that idea. It was a compromise -- and a very reasonable one.

"Fine," you accepted.

Since it was currently light enough outside, Chanyeol made good on his part of the deal and headed out with you onto the planet's surface to begin gathering data and collecting samples -- after the two of you made sure you had no other injuries from the crash, had all of your equipment, and stuffed your packs with rations, of course.

Naturally, the first thing you did after stepping outside was crouch down and scoop some soil into a beaker.

As you stoppered it and slid it into your pack, you decided to voice some thoughts that had been ruminating in your mind for several minutes.

"Now, I know I'm not the most experienced when it comes to reading sensors on a ship or in a shuttle, but I like to think I still know a thing or two."

Chanyeol chuckled softly, handing you a new, empty beaker so you could continue collecting samples. "A thing or two billion," he amended. "You're like a walking database."

His words made you pause and slowly shift your gaze over to him, your forehead wrinkled. "...Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Normally, you would be thrilled to hear someone call you a 'walking database.' But with Chanyeol? You couldn't be sure.

"In Starfleet, of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I mean, coming from you..." you pointed out.

"I'm fully capable of paying you a compliment!" he defended with an amused laugh.

Even after processing that and thinking for almost thirty seconds, you still couldn't come up with an appropriate response. So, you simply said, "No comment," and began walking toward what was most likely a tree.

"What?!" Chanyeol scoffed. "I am!"

"Oh, yes, absolutely. You've paid me plenty of compliments in-between your accusing me of stalking you," you replied sardonically.

Unsurprisingly, Chanyeol had no further response other than to grumble something under his breath and kick at the dirt in front of him.

But then he said, "Wait, you were talking about the sensor readings."

"Oh! Right, so, I couldn't immediately place exactly what was happening to cause such a disruption in our flight pattern and our systems to basically fail," you explained. As you approached the tree, you reached into your pack for a pair of phaser shears to retrieve cuttings from the leaves. "But I think now it has something to do with the Minarian Supernova that happened a little over 150 years ago. It wiped out all but one planet in the whole star system. If I remember correctly, this system is probably not close enough to have been majorly impacted but close enough to still feel the effects. So it was most likely a leftover gravitational disturbance and energy surge from the supernova. That would also explain the mild radiation in the atmosphere."

You ended your explanation just in time to phaser off a few leaves from the tree, watching as they landed perfectly into the beaker.

But as you were stoppering the beaker and putting it back in your pack with the soil sample, you realized Chanyeol hadn't said anything.

When you looked over at him, brows knit, you were met with that stupid smirk of his, and his eyes twinkled when he said, "See? Walking database."

"Please," you scoffed. "You could've figured all that out, too."

"Maybe I could've, but I didn't. And I sure as hell would never have remembered a supernova that happened a century and a half ago!"

"You don't remember the Minarian Supernova?!" you asked, unable to hide the shock in your voice.

"...No?! Why would I?" Chanyeol laughed.

"Because it -- I mean, the Enterprise?! Kirk? Spock? Scotty? Surely, you know everything there is to know about Scotty, right? He's the God of Starfleet Engineering."

"Well, yes. Maybe not everything, but it's not like I have all of the Enterprise's missions memorized like you do," he teased.

"It was a supernova! It wiped out an entire star system! You don't find that fascinating or memorable?!"

Chanyeol's smirk grew, almost morphing into an actual grin, and your stomach did a tiny flip which you immediately chose to ignore.

"If I did, I would've been in planetary sciences with you," he pointed out. "Instead, I find the way a starship works to be fascinating and memorable."

You simply shrugged and muttered, "Suit yourself."

Truth be told, you were glad there were people like Chanyeol because if everyone was as obsessed with science as you, who would keep the ships running? You couldn't discover new life in the galaxy if you couldn't get there.

But you would never tell him that. Obviously.

You turned to continue your trek, your gaze scanning the horizon for what you could collect next -- but then Chanyeol utterly surprised you by saying this:

"I am glad there are people like you, though. Obsessed with stuff like supernovas and soil. Otherwise, we wouldn't know about any of it, and we'd be out here flying around just to fly. Just to marvel at the machinery."

You had to pause because, first of all, he had just voiced almost exactly what you'd been thinking. And second of all, he had just complimented you again.

You honestly weren't sure what to do with yourself.

Well, you figured you should start by acknowledging his admiration, so you murmured a "Thank you," and nodded your head. And then you cleared your throat and decided to repay his friendly remark. "I'm... glad there are engineering nerds like you, as well. Starfleet has taught me that we all work best as a team. A well-rounded team where we each have our own strengths and contribute different things... It takes a village and all that."

Chanyeol had turned toward you to listen, his brows gently raised as you spoke. When you finished, one corner of his lips lifted into a smirk and he said, "Aw, you don't really mean that." His tone was a bashful one rather than a disbelieving one, though, as if he felt he didn't deserve your (somewhat) kind words.

Modest Chanyeol was too much for you to comprehend at the moment, so you simply rolled your eyes and began walking again.

"Hey, wait," Chanyeol called out as he scrambled to follow you. "You were supposed to say I do mean it, I'm incredibly grateful for your extensive engineering knowledge because I wouldn't be on this planet without you. I owe you so much, Chanyeol, and I can never thank you enough."

Ah, there we go! Now it all made sense. He had only been pretending to be bashful so you would compliment him more and flatter his disgustingly huge ego.

"Come on," you said, completely ignoring him. "It looks like we don't have much light left today."

"I mean, I would settle for I do mean it, you're a fantastic engineer for your age. Definitely the next Geordi LaForge, too. You don't have to admit that you owe me so much."

When you didn't reply, you heard him inhale sharply to speak again.

Sure enough, he said, "I would even settle for I do mean it --"

"Can we just continue with the mission? I want to collect more samples before we have to go back to the shuttle," you interrupted, unable to keep your annoyance out of your voice.

"Okay, okay!" Chanyeol replied defensively, holding his hands up in surrender. "I was just trying to be friendly."

How did he manage to keep surprising you?

"Friendly?" you asked with skepticism.

"Yeah, friendly. Like, joke around and stuff."

"Why do you want to joke around with me?" you asked as you approached what appeared to be a small pond surrounded by shrub-like flora.

"What kind of question is that?" Chanyeol chuckled, almost under his breath. "We're on a mission, just the two of us, stranded here for at least three days."

"...So? Don't you hate me?"

For some reason, you expected him to refute your words and stammer out that he didn't hate you. And, for some other reason, you were a little disappointed when he didn't. He simply let out a breath and followed you over to the pond.

As soon as you filled up three more beakers with pond water, soil, and shrub leaves, Chanyeol finally opened his mouth -- but only to agree with you that it was time to head back to the shuttle.

Since both you and Chanyeol were silent as you walked back to the shuttle, it allowed you to think of how you should handle things.

Unsurprisingly, you couldn't unhear Chanyeol saying he was trying to be friendly and joke around with you. But when you'd called him out on it, he hadn't responded -- and in fact, had hardly said anything since.

So, should you bring it up once you got back? Was this worth an actual conversation? Or should you move on and pretend it hadn't happened?

Obviously, the second option was easier, and since you were currently in somewhat of a stressful situation, 'easy' was incredibly appealing.

As soon as you stepped into the shuttle and the door closed behind you, you took off your pack, unzipped it, and began putting the samples into an airtight container. Then, you stood up, faced Chanyeol, and asked, "What do you need me to do?"

Chanyeol, who had been heading up to the main console, froze mid-step. He turned slowly to look at you curiously. "...What?"

"To repair the shuttle," you clarified. "What do you need me to do?"

"...You're going to repair the shuttle?"

You breathed a chuckle through your nose. "Well, no. I'm going to help you repair the shuttle."

"You are?"

"Why not?"

Chanyeol looked at you as if you were either tricking him or had suddenly developed amnesia.

"Because... I thought we weren't talking to each other because I hate you," he said.

Okay, wonderful. You had been trying to move on and pretend like nothing had happened, but he wasn't going to let you do that. Great!

"We're still colleagues," you pointed out, determined to do your best to skirt around the issue. "I can't just sit here and watch you repair the shuttle. So, tell me what I can do to help."

Instead of actually listening to you and giving you an assignment, though, Chanyeol let out a bemused chuckle and rested his hands on his hips. "You're incapable of following the conversation script I wrote out in my head, did you know that?"

"The what?" you laughed.

"You never say what I think you're going to say -- certainly never what I want you to say. For someone so obsessed with science and order and rules, you're highly unpredictable," he told you.

"O...kay..."

"I mean it as a compliment," Chanyeol explained. "It's actually one of the reasons I like you -- not hate. I like you. I respect the hell out of you, and I always have."

There was nothing you could do after hearing that except laugh. "You sure have an interesting way of showing it."

"The toolbox should be in that cabinet," he said, pointing above your head. "Bring it up here to the console and help me with the communications system."

...All right, then. It was his turn to totally ignore what you'd said and pretend like it had never happened.

And, to be honest, you were just fine with that.

Part 4

#chanyeol #park chanyeol #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol au #chanyeol x reader #exo #exo fanfic #exo au #exo x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop au #kpop x reader #kpop x you #kpop x y/n

17 notes · View notes

cooperscreosote · 6 months ago

Text

@flashfictionfridayofficial

I think this is my longest prompt story so far, haha.

Fandom: Star Trek The Original Series Pairing: Kirk/Spock Words: 940

~~~

Spock's shuttle was drifting helplessly through the vastness of open space.

Oh, if only.

In fact there was a meteorite field all around the little spacecraft. So far the outer hull was holding out, but ever since the engine had failed and Spock had drifted into the field he could hear the constant noise of a barrage of rocks hitting the shuttle.

And that wasn't all. A brief analytical scan had showed that these meteorites contained a rare metal that made it impossible to get a fix on anyone with the transporter. It also severely influenced the communications equipment.

Seriously, how wrong could a mission possibly go? Spock knew that most humans in his situation would panic, but he was a Vulcan. He wouldn't steep so low. (He decided to conveniently forget his half-human heritage. Everything was allowed, as long as it helped him to keep his composure.)

Suddenly a beep from the console alerted him. 'Warning! The life-support system has failed. Remaining oxygen supply will last for approximately ten minutes,' came the emotionless voice from the computer.

Alright, things could always get worse. He sat down and pressed a few buttons on the console. Now there was only one thing he could still do.

---

'I don't want to hear any more excuses, Scotty! We have to rescue Mr Spock!' exclaimed Kirk sternly. 'I'm doing my best, captain, but...' 'Then you need to do more than your best, Mr Scott! Work on it!'

Kirk knew he was being a bit unfair, but after all he was beside himself with worry, so Scotty would probably understand him.

'Captain? We've got an incoming transmission from the shuttle,' said Uhura suddenly. 'What?! Put it on the main screen,' demanded Kirk.

And there he was, his first officer. The picture on the screen was grainy and the sound was crackling, but there he was. 'Mr Spock! How did you get through the jamming and-' 'There is no time to explain, captain. I did some minor adjustments to the instruments. It will cause them to be destroyed in a few minutes, but I decided that it doesn't matter. Not when the whole shuttle will soon be destroyed.' 'About that, Spock...Scotty is working on a solution. We will have you out of there very soon.' 'I fear I must object, captain. One of the meteorites hit an important part of the shuttle. The life support system failed, and the oxygen supply will run out in,' he checked the screen, 'in three more minutes.' 'What?! But Mr Spock, surely there is-' 'There is nothing you or me or Mr Scott can do, captain. I only called the Enterprise to tell you a last goodbye. Please allow me this kind of sentimentality in my final moments.' He said all of that in an entirely matter-of-factly tone, as if it didn't concern him at all. Before Kirk could get a word in, he added: 'I am aware that making a final call home to talk to one's friends and loved ones is a very human trait, or at least I heard about it. However, having seen you for one last time, captain...it makes it easier. Goodbye, captain.' 'What do you mean, goodbye? Mr Spock, I order you to return to the Enterprise! To your home...to where you belong! Is that clear?' Then the connection seemed to fade away. The picture got worse, and even though Kirk still saw Spock's lips move, he couldn't hear him anymore. 'Mr Spock! No!' He whirled around. 'Do something! Anyone! There must be something...' 'There isn't, Jim. You heard him,' said Bones. 'It's too late. The three minutes he mentioned are already over.' 'But this is just-'

In that moment the console beeped again and he heard Scotty's voice. 'Captain? Please come to the transporter room, would you? I've got a-'

He didn't even wait until the chief engineer had finished speaking, because he was out of the door in a heartbeat.

'I surpassed myself, if I dare say so,' said a voice with a Scottish accent. 'I rerouted the entire transporter system in mere minutes. Means I will have to do a lot of repair work since a lot of relays burned through, but it made the transporter beam strong enough to penetrate the meteorite field.' 'Very good, Scotty. Very good,' said another voice. It was warm and full of relief...then Spock finally realised that it was the captain's voice. But how was that possible?

He slowly opened his eyes and saw the faces of Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy hovering over him. 'Look, he's waking up!' said Kirk and took his hand. 'Spock, are you alright?' 'I think so.' He slowly sat up and looked around. This was clearly the Enterprise's transporter room. So they must have found a way to save him. 'You brought me home, captain.' 'Well, technically it was me, but I'll let it slide just that one time,' commented Scotty with a brief laugh. Kirk smiled at him. 'Welcome home, Spock. Welcome home, my dear friend.'

Just as Spock was about to say something, the doctor shoved Kirk aside. 'Now that you welcomed him you should finally let me examine him.' 'Of course, Bones. But you surely won't mind if I stayed with him while you do that?' Kirk grabbed Spock's hand tighter and Bones sighed.

He knew these two. No force in the entire universe would get the captain to let go of his first officer's - and T'hy'la's - hand if he was like that.

'Oh, sure, go ahead. I'm used to it, after all. By god, am I used to it,' he muttered.

#flash fic friday #flash fiction friday #fanfic writing #star trek #star trek tos #spirk

21 notes · View notes