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btsrunmylife · 3 years

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“The Library Keepers: Jamais Vu” - Prologue / Teaser

Word Count: 1,524

Genre: Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Action / Adventure / Humor

Rating: Explicit…eventually 🔞

Summary: After two years of being stationed on Space Station Baldur, you’re not really expecting anything exciting to happen anymore. With little by the way of scientific discoveries, you and your team are getting a bit restless. Sent out on “special assignment” with Mission Specialist Kim Namjoon, you really aren’t expecting to find (or even see) much of anything.

What you do find is something beyond what either of you could’ve imagined.

From the dark side of the moon. I know that it's sad, but it's true. I'm tryna get home. I'm a spaceman. 🎵

You groan and smack the off button of the ship’s sound system, sending a glare your colleague's way. To his credit, a sheepish grin tugs at his lips.

“I forgot that was on the playlist,” he admits, scratching at his chin as he adjusts in his seat, tugging at the legs of his spacesuit to get more comfortable. He redirects his attention to the front window and you follow his gaze, taking in the vast expansiveness in front of you. On and on for miles, there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing but darkness and faraway stars.

Since being stationed on Space Station Baldur, you’ve seen your fair share of stars up close. They’re not nearly as breathtaking as you’d think, many looking like smaller versions of the sun, with some burning much hotter with a bluish-white hue. It still amazes you, knowing that all they’re made of is gas and dust that have taken over millions of years to get hot enough to shine so brightly.

They’re the little spectators of the universe that twinkle in the sky back home on Earth.

Earth. It’s been approximately 734 days since you’ve felt its gravitational pull. Approximately 729 days, 12 hours, and 43 minutes since you arrived at Space Station Baldur with Mission Specialist Kim Namjoon and your team. 8 hours since the two of you left the station to venture out into the great unknown on special assignment.

Special assignment is really just a fancy way of saying go see what you find and report back to us if you really do find anything, but we know you won’t.

It’s pointless, really. It would take you months, if not years, to actually reach something that hasn’t already been discovered.

It’s why they’ve thrust a camera in your hands and instructed you to take a few pictures while you’re gone. To show the people back home where you are and what it’s really like. But the photos you take don’t do it justice. Sure, it’s breathtaking in a so much different from home sort of way, but it’s quiet. Isolating. Downright daunting.

The black void stretches on for miles, empty of everything familiar. Empty of anything at all, really.

“Do you think Nick Jonas would actually last as a spaceman?” Namjoon questions with a quirk of his lips.

You snort, shooting him a look that says absolutely-fucking-not. Nick Jonas wouldn’t know the first thing about being alone. Well and truly alone. It’s an experience you still struggle with sometimes, being so far away from what you know. From the things and people you love. But you love your job too. You love learning about the world, the universe, the galaxy around you. There’s so much nobody knows. So much left to discover.

You are most certainly not going to discover anything out here like this though, in your little dinghy ship with just enough rations to last the 12 hours out and the 12 hours back, but it’s a nice thought.

“If any of the Jo Bros would last, it’d be Kevin,” you mutter with finality, nodding sagely.

Namjoon wrinkles his nose. “Kevin? Why Kevin?”

You shrug. “He’s the oldest.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s the brightest--”

The comms crackle to life, stopping your impending argument before it can begin.

“Microkosm, this is Mission Control, requesting a status update.”

You want to snort at the name Microkosm, the ship so aptly named due to it being a smaller extension of the space station, containing your little corner of the universe for the next...17 hours and 43 minutes.

Namjoon shifts into work-mode, rattling off your estimated coordinates, determining your location based on your distance from the satellites and the main station.

“Rations are adequate and oxygen levels are at a steady 93%.”

“Excellent,” your commander mutters. “You’re making decent time. Any observational updates?”

“Negative,” you finally contribute. “Nothing but space rock and stardust, sir.”

“As expected,” he sighs. “Regardless, expect to give another status update in the next few hours.”

“Yes, sir,” you and Namjoon chorus, listening to your commander mutter a signoff. Your ship settles back into silence as the comms power off, the low hum of the engine and shuttering of the walls a mere background noise to you now.

“What a waste of a trip,” Namjoon sighs, slumping down in his seat and leaning his head back on the headrest.

You grunt, echoing his sentiment completely. When you first applied to be stationed on Baldur, you were so excited. A mere science geek, itching to make a discovery. You had big dreams, fantasies of planets and moons and otherworldly fauna. Maybe even a world not quite unlike your own. But this...wasn’t reality.

The work you do is important, obviously, but it’s mainly research. Studies to determine how well humans can survive in space. How far they can go and what they need to help them survive.

Is there a way to manufacture oxygen so we won’t run out?

The earth is only going to be inhabitable for so long. Or so they say.

Really, you think all of this is just another way for them to monetize uninhabited property. Not enough commercial real estate on earth? Why not sell space too?

Maybe that’s a cynical way to view the work you do, but after two years of not a whole lot of scientific discoveries, you’re a little disheartened.

“I’m gonna grab some sustenance,” you declare and unbuckle, finally caving to your stomach’s incessant grumbling. “You want anything?”

Namjoon glances at you as you slowly float out of your seat, hands reaching for your headrest to steady you. “A strawberry and banana protein shake?”

You smile, not entirely sure why you asked. His answer is always the same.

“You got it, Specialist,” you say and release the back of your seat, using it as leverage to push yourself toward the back of the ship. Floating in space is a little like swimming on earth, except you don’t sink, you just keep floating.

After strong-arming your way to the back of the ship, you break into your stash of freeze-dried foods. Since the two of you are on a shorter mission in such a small spacecraft, all of your food has to be things that can be consumed without cooking them. No meatloaf and potatoes for the two of you while you’re gone. Just freeze-dried fruit, nuts, crackers, cheese spreads, and dehydrated protein shakes.

You grab Namjoon a strawberry and banana one and add water through the pressurized hose before grabbing a chocolate one for yourself. You eye the coffee, knowing that sooner or later you’ll have to take watch while Namjoon sleeps, but you figure you’ll have time for that later.

Besides, you’re not really all that tired yet anyway.

Balancing the drink pouches precariously between your fingertips, you use one hand to push yourself back in the direction of the front of the ship. You’re just reaching for one of the bars on the ceiling to propel you forward when it shimmies and you miss your mark.

The ship’s rattling is suddenly loud in your ears and, as your shoulder collides with the ceiling, you can feel it in your jaw, rattling your teeth.

“Uh, Joon?” you question, heart beating hard in your chest. You try your best to strong-arm your way back to the front, but the ship shakes and takes you off course. You’re forced back against the ceiling with a hard crack that takes your breath away. You hiss, dropping your drinks to cradle the back of your head. “Joon!”

“Specialist, get back in your seat!” you hear his words, loud in your headset, and feel yourself start to panic.

“Joon, what’s going on?” you demand, but grab a hold of one of the bars to push yourself forward. The ship sways and quakes beneath your touch, your entire body vibrating from the point of contact.

“Fuck, we don’t have time,” Namjoon hisses, voice thin and strained. “Get to one of the emergency seats and strap yourself in.”

“But I’m almost—“

“Now!”

And that’s when you notice it, the erratic movement of the spacecraft, the violent quivering of the walls, the high-pitched whistling of the engine as it struggles to slow you down. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

You slot yourself into one of the seats at the edge of the craft and just manage to latch yourself in when you hear a loud pop and feel the ship lurch. Almost as if you’re in a car that’s just been rear-ended. But it happens again. And then again.

“Namjoon, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is happening—“ Your hands are curled tightly around the straps that hold you in your seat, the material digging deeply into your palms as you pray that what little food you have consumed today stays down.

“Damn it, I—“ Namjoon begins, the sound of his voice crackling in your ears. The sound fades in and out and you strain to hear him. “Fuck, brace — impact!”

“Namjoon!”

______________________________________________________________

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#bts fanfiction #kim namjoon #bts #fanfiction #sci-fi #bts au fic #bts au #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts space au #alien bts au #btsrunmylife.story #btsrunmylife

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btsrunmylife · 3 years

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“The Library Keepers: Jamais Vu” - Chapter 1: Planet X

Word Count: 3,712

Genre: Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Action / Adventure / Humor

Rating: Explicit…eventually

What you do find is something beyond what either of you could’ve imagined.

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The silence is deafening, ringing loudly in your ears, as you try to see a few feet in front of you. The ship’s lights have gone dark, leaving you with nothing but the stars shining through one of the portholes to light your way.

You blink, taking stock of yourself. You wiggle your fingers, still clenched tightly around your safety belt. You shrug your shoulders, roll your neck, do a mental check of your chest, your nervous and fluttering stomach, your waist. You shift in your seat, experimentally stretching your legs and flexing your toes.

The next thing you do is reach for the helmet hanging to the right of your seat, blindly groping the wall until you find the latches holding it there. You tug it down from the wall and secure it over your head, attaching it to your suit. You reach for an oxygen tank next, practiced hands attaching the hose to your helmet.

Once situated with your oxygen tank turned on, you switch on the little flashlight attached to your helmet, glancing down at yourself.

You’re still strapped in your seat. Nothing seems to be broken. There are no holes in your suit, nothing holding you down except for the safety belts.

But something’s different.

You glance around you, the aircraft’s aisles free of clutter thanks to how well you strap things down in zero gravity.

Gravity.

Experimentally, you reach for another one of the helmets, unhooking the latches and allowing them to fall away.

They fall.

They don’t float.

The helmet clatters to the ground with a loud bang.

“Specialist?”

You startle at the voice in your headset. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Namjoon?”

You hear him sigh. “Good, you’re okay.” A pause. “You are okay, right?”

“I think so?” you question, patting yourself down. Your stomach is a little iffy and you’re pretty sure you peed a little, but you’re...yeah, you’re okay. “Are you?”

“I’m okay,” he confirms, a rustling sound coming from somewhere up front. “I think...we should...I mean--”

“Namjoon, what happened?”

There’s a prolonged silence, one that leads you to think things are really not as okay as he says they are.

“Joon?”

“We -- we crashed,” he mutters, sounding a little astonished.

“Into what?” You’re dumbfounded. The only thing for miles is stars. Stars and space rock, just like you told your commander. How in the hell did you crash?

When Mission Specialist Kim Namjoon doesn’t answer, you grind your teeth together. “Joon?”

“Come see for yourself.”

You have a feeling, a sinking feeling that starts in your chest and drops all the way down into your stomach. Your stomach rolls and you have to fight down the bile in your throat. You don’t like the sound of his voice, don’t like the fact he won’t tell you what’s going on. You don’t like not knowing if your life is in danger or not.

Part of you doesn’t want to know what you’ll find when you get to the front of the ship. The other, the scientist in you that is always curious, is dying to know.

You quickly undo the straps holding you down and get to your feet, a little unsteady after so long of being in zero gravity. The floor of the ship feels weird beneath the soles of your military-grade boots, heavy in a way you’ve been mostly unfamiliar with for the past two years.

You give yourself a moment to adjust. Your entire body feels heavy and when you move to put the oxygen tank on your back, that feels heavy too.

You grip the straps of your tank tightly, nervously, as you slowly make your way to the front. The ship really isn’t that long, only having enough space to hold up to four people at a time with enough storage space for a short trip away from the station. But it still takes you a minute or two to get from one end to the other, passing by the little sleep pods on either side of you, meant more for convenience than comfort.

When you reach your colleague, you notice that he, too, has donned his helmet and oxygen tank and is staring out the front window. He doesn’t turn to you as you approach, although you’re sure he can hear you coming, and when you step up behind him you see why.

In front of you, glowing under the light of a moon is a hill covered in what appears to be grass and flowers. Instead of green, the grass gives off a bluish, purple hue and looks almost cottony. It bounces and shifts, as if swaying in a breeze. The flowers’ stems stretch and weave high into the sky, as high as some of the tallest sunflowers back home. Their petals are a deep purple and appear larger than your hands, each flower having at least seven petals that stretch into a trumpet shape, with red stigmas sticking out of the center.

An excitement you haven’t felt in the two years on the space station tickles at your chest, fingers itching to reach out and touch. To see if they’re really as soft as they appear. To see if they contain similar genetics to the plant life back home.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, enamored.

“Yeah,” Namjoon sighs.

“We should—“ You start turning toward the door, but Namjoon grabs your arm. As you shift on your feet, you notice the unsteadiness of the ground beneath you. It sways.

The two of you pause, looking at each other in mild panic before you’re carefully approaching the front of the ship. You lean a little closer to the control panel, aiming the flashlight on your suit directly in front of your spacecraft. There, just underneath you, is a pool of deep green. Little flecks of iridescent particles float across its surface, sharp rocks sticking out of the water in front of you, just offshore.

Your eyes widen.

“We should call this in,” Namjoon finishes your previous thought.

You feel your cheeks flush, suddenly thankful for the tinted visor of your helmet, because you hadn’t even thought of that. “Right, yeah.”

Namjoon laughs softly and sits back down in his chair, a little clumsy due to the gravity and the unsteadiness of the craft, and presses a few buttons on the dashboard. He frowns when nothing clicks on, hits another button, and tries again.

The spacecraft remains eerily silent and you glance toward the oxygen reader on the wall, still displaying a steady 93%, but no longer ticking.

There’s another sinking feeling in your stomach. “Joon?”

He’s silent for a moment, gloved hands flexing over the controls. “Our communication systems must have been impacted by the crash. We’ll need to check the rest of the ship for damage too.”

You nod stiffly. You’ve trained for this, gone through extensive procedures so both of you know exactly what to do in situations like this, but you still feel like you’re on the verge of a panic attack.

Yes, you’d wanted to discover something -- and you’re still dying to step out of this spacecraft and get a sample from those flowers -- but what’s a discovery without anyone to report it to? What if you can’t get the comms up and running and you never make it back to Baldur?

Namjoon must sense your mounting panic somehow, because he gets to his feet and squeezes your shoulder, the pressure light through your suit. “It’ll be okay. We have extra oxygen tanks if we need them. We have enough food to last us a few days if we portion it out. If they don’t hear back from us by then, they’ll send someone.”

Right, yeah, totally. His logic makes sense.

You offer a tight-lipped smile you know he can’t see and pat his hand. “Right. You get to work on the comms. I’ll go check the engines.”

“Okay,” he takes a step back from you, watching as you turn toward the back of the ship. “And Specialist?”

You turn your head. “Mm?”

“Be careful.”

Your lips quirk into a smile. “Aren’t I always?”

Houston, think we got some problems, find somebody who can solve ‘em 🎵

You groan to yourself as the song pops into your head unbidden, tossing away the pliers you’d been trying to fix the ship with. Although the engines are fine, the rest of the ship seems to have suffered from the crash and you’ve been trying to get things up and running again for the past few hours. But no amount of tweaking of wires or reconnecting power boards would work, and you have the sinking suspicion that whatever body of liquid you’d landed in was responsible.

You feel yourself starting to sweat so close to the heat of the engines and adjust the temperature with a dial inside your suit. The suits really weren’t designed for comfort -- not really -- but the ones you wear now are lightyears more comfortable than the ones you used to wear, material much more pliable and accepting of movement. You remember the ones you wore during training, so stiff and heavily insulated you could barely breathe. You’d sweat a lot during those days, practically baking under the hot lights of the training station.

These are much better, making repairing the ship more manageable, but no easier.

You huff and push to your feet, dusting yourself off. You’re still not sure what to make of this whole gravity thing, your legs feeling weak after not carrying your weight for so long. You’re also finding yourself having to readjust, so used to handling tools and manipulating wires mid-float. The mere weightiness of everything is a shock to your system.

You press the button for your comms. “Joons?”

A crackle of noise, then, “Go ahead, Specialist.”

You steel yourself. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Silence, a sigh, and then, “I have some bad news too.”

Your heart sinks. “The comms?”

“Yeah, they’re completely dead. No power source at all. What’d you find?”

“Well,” you breathe out slowly. “The engines are fine--”

“That’s great!”

“--but the mainframe was damaged in the crash. It might be repairable, but--”

“But it’s beyond your expertise,” he finishes for you, voice conveying his disappointment.

“Unfortunately.”

The two of you settle into a silence that’s weighed down by the severity of your situation. Your mind races for a solution. You wish you had paid more attention in your tech classes, wish you had read more manuals and studied the schematics of these things a bit more. You wish you were more prepared than this.

“Joonie?” you ask, your voice so quiet you’re not sure he hears you.

“Yeah?”

“What are we going to do?”

You’re not sure he has the answers. You’re not sure there is a good answer. Stuck on an unfamiliar planet with no way to contact the space station, your options are rather limited.

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “I guess we wait it out, hope that someone comes looking for us.”

His solution doesn’t comfort you. In fact, it does the opposite. You’re not so sure just waiting around is a good idea. You could be waiting for a while before anyone decides to send out a search party, let alone find a planet you didn’t know existed.

“Okay,” you agree, but only because there’s not much else you can do. Namjoon might not know entirely how to fix the situation, but he’s still the Mission Specialist and, therefore, the leader of your excursion.

Pushing away the doubts eating away at you, you try to remain optimistic as you head back into the Navigation Bay. As you pass by the sleeping pods, you glance at the frozen oxygen reader on the wall, still reading a firm 93%. You’re not so sure anymore whether you can trust it, knowing how finicky the tech gets without a steady stream of power.

You pause before you can make it to Navigation, bending at your knees and crouching over. You pull your arms from inside your sleeves and bury your face in your hands inside your suit, pressing firm fingertips to your eyes as they begin to sting.

You can’t cry. You won’t.

Your suit isn’t meant for crying and you need to conserve oxygen.

Even telling yourself this, you feel the tears slide down your cheeks. You sniff and swipe at them, feeling your heart ache in a way you don’t let it very often.

For the first time in two years, you find yourself wanting to go home. You want to be curled up in a nice, comfortable bed, surrounded by the softest sheets and fluffiest pillows. You want to be sipping from a soothing cup of tea or a nice glass of wine. You don’t want to be stuck alone in space, with no idea of when or how or even if you’re going to get home.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and startle, swiping furiously at your eyes and moving to get up. Namjoon tsks into your comms and eases you back down, wrapping his long arms around you. The hug is awkward and not at all as comforting as he probably intends, helmets bumping and suits crinkling, but it’s nice. It’s nice because you know you’re not entirely alone. It’s nice because you know you have Namjoon.

For the time being, it’s enough.

A faint breeze sways the trees, disrupting the long, blue, tail-like branches and making their fan-shape crowns shutter. You listen in awe to the sound they make, like little fountains of water clattering to the ground. A faint whistle floats through the air as the thin wisps of leaves lift from the ground and reach with the wind, stretching and swaying through the air. Your body yearns to feel it softly kiss your skin like the sweet ether of earth.

You want to taste the air on your tongue, the way you would back home. Would it contain salty undertones like the air near the ocean? Or would it taste sour, sweet, or even foul? You’re curious, but not yet willing to take the risk of removing your helmet. You’re not sure whether the air here is breathable or, better yet, whether any of the flora and fauna you’re observing is poisonous. Although seemingly earth-like in composition, you have yet to actually test the biology of anything, most of your equipment still waiting for you on Space Station Baldur.

In the three days you’ve been on Planet X, as Namjoon has begun referring to it, you have yet to see or hear any signs of a rescue crew. The skies, a brilliant shade of green and deep blue, are quiet, barren apart from the smattering of stars and the oblong moon, tinted blue through the planet’s atmosphere.

With Planet X’s crust and stratosphere so much closer to the galaxy overhead, the stars appear brighter and bigger, with the climate being significantly cooler than the earth’s surface. Interestingly, you’ve noticed that the plant life compensates for this and, as you run your gloved hands over the branches and leaves of the trees, you feel a significant heat radiate from them. You know of plants back home that generate heat like this, like the Eastern skunk cabbage and Voodoo Lilly, but the few that do only do so to promote flower pollination. Without ample time to observe the vegetation on this planet and their life cycles, you’re only left to wonder whether their heating mechanisms are for pollination or for surviving in such cool temperatures.

“Specialist?”

You touch your hand to your comms, thankful that at least some of your tech is still working, even if it sometimes fritzes out and all you hear is static. “Yeah, Joon?”

“I think a storm is brewing on the horizon.”

You glance in the direction the ship is angled and search the skies. Sure enough, a tumultuous cloud is looming closer, strong gusts of winds bending flower stems and tree trunks to the ground.

You let out a little sigh as your little excursion, the furthest you’ve dared to venture out, is cut cut short and quickly pack up the small case of samples you’ve been collecting. Recycling used food containers, you’ve managed to collect close to fifteen samples of local organisms so far. Although you have nothing to examine them with yet, you hold out hope that a ship will arrive for you soon.

After all, they had to have noticed you’ve gone dark by now, that you’re no longer locatable through your ship’s GPS. Surely they’ve realized something is wrong.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you quickly board Mikrocosm, the ship having drifted with the currents of the lake you’d landed in and washed ashore early on your second day here. As is routine by now, you store your case of samples in a little nook just outside the decompression chamber before stepping inside. The outer door shifts closed behind you and you begin the process of decontamination, spraying yourself top to bottom with a hose attached to the wall. A fan kicks on, controlled from inside the ship, and dries you as the foreign air surrounding you is vacuumed out of the bay. Once finished, the inside door hisses and unlocks, allowing you to walk through to meet Namjoon on the other side.

The muffled, filtered breathing of your colleague greets you and he motions you further into the ship, handing you a pouched protein drink. Relief washes over you as you sink into your seat in the Navigation Bay, kicking your feet up on the control panel that’s currently rendered useless.

Namjoon glares at your mostly clean boots on his equipment, but doesn’t say anything as he hooks his own protein shake to a tube in his suit, hands disappearing inside to no doubt attach the other end to his mouth.

“Anything interesting today?” he asks, words muffled around the tube he’s placed between his teeth, maneuvering one arm back into his sleeve to release the clamp on his feeding tube.

“Nothing new,” you sigh, following suit and getting your meal prepared. Running low on supplies, the two of you had begun rationing things out even more, only allowing yourselves one protein shake a day with drinks of water in between. The nutritionist in you knows the dangers of such a restrictive diet, but any more and you’d surely run out before help comes.

If it comes.

Your eyes drift to the oxygen reader on the wall, still frozen on 93%. The sight doesn’t render you broken the way it had when you’d first arrived, but it still makes your heart trip unsteadily every time you see it. It serves as a stark reminder that your lives have come to a screeching, unsettling halt that’s almost completely out of your control.

A rumble rolls through the planet’s atmosphere, shaking the ground beneath you, and your gaze shifts to the oncoming storm. You know very little about the planet you’re on, including what you should expect from those dark, foreboding clouds.

The sound of rain hitting metal echoes through the room and you glance above you, hoping your ship is strong enough to withstand whatever is falling from the sky. Judging by what little you do know of weather on earth, you think the lake your ship crash landed in is a good indication that whatever this planet’s rain is made of, at least, won’t melt it.

You hope.

“It’s green,” Namjoon mutters, sounding a bit awed as he points a finger to the window. You follow his gaze toward the raindrops skittering across the plastic casing of your windshield, green rivulets flowing across the surface and sliding down.

“It’s pretty,” you comment, eyes moving from the drops to the moon beyond, slowly disappearing behind the storm clouds. You’re a little puzzled once it’s gone, still able to see just as clearly, and it takes you a moment to realize there’s other light sources on the planet.

The trees and grass you’d been so raptly examining slowly fade into light, like street lights flickering on at night, branches and stems glowing a delicate and muted green.

You purse your lips, moving your feet off the panel to sit forward in your seat and observe them. Even at night, the moon usually shined so brightly that you never noticed the plants’ luminescence before. You make a mental note of it, wondering if it has anything to do with the heat that radiates from them.

“Damn,” Namjoon breathes next to you, and you can only nod in response. Every moment you spend here is an adventure, something to be astounded or perplexed by.

You watch in silence as the flowers stretch with the wind, up toward the sky, trumpeted petals opening as if reaching for the nutrients the rain provides.

“Do they...seem alive to you?” you wonder aloud, the sight so similar to a pair of lips parting for food that it leaves you feeling a little uneasy.

Namjoon turns to you, is quiet for a moment, before you see his shoulders rise and fall. “I don’t know, maybe? It wouldn’t be so crazy, would it? We’re on an alien planet.”

Your lips twitch at his teasing tone. “True. I just--”

You pause, tongue coming out to wet your lips. It brushes the straw of your forgotten protein shake and you flinch back in surprise. You relax when you realize what it is and shake your head at yourself. You can’t help but be a little jumpy. Ever since you arrived on Planet X, you’ve felt like something was...off. Like there’s something more to what’s in front of you than what you see.

And, dare you admit, you feel like you’re being watched.

A sudden whirring sound jolts you from your thoughts and you spin around to face the wall. Your eyes scan the area in front of you, unable to find the source of the noise until you spot movement out of the corner of your eye. Eyes shifting to the oxygen reader on the wall, you’re surprised to find that it now says 100%, the red needle shaking and quivering, as if trying to continue its ascent to a number that doesn’t exist.

“Uh, Joon?”

“Specialist, get down!”

__________________________

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#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #kim namjoon #fanfiction #sci-fi #bts au fic #bts au #bts x reader #bts space au #alien bts au #btsrunmylife.story

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