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godslino · 8 months ago

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IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.”

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.”

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.

“But I can’t.” you choked.

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.”

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.”

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him.

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him.

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” you say first this time.

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?”

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.

You nod, slowly.

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.”

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded.

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

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burrcapts · 5 months ago

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Furry Midnight Haul

Nobody really knows how such places come to be, but it typically doesn't take very long before they are noticed by those who had the misfortune of living nearby. Most of the time it starts with people simply having a strange, uneasy feeling if they happen to get too close. But with time, the stories behind them begin to grow and fill with new, frightening details. The locals start whispering about those who went missing after going there on a dare, or just because they did not believe the rumors and had something to prove. Unfortunately for Quinn and Leo, they weren't locals at all and heard no such warnings.

After Leo's gps sent the two of them on a goose chase across the countryside, suggesting an apparently far more optimal and 12,7% faster route that eventually turned out to take them through a good handful of different dirt roads, they somehow ended up in the absolute middle of nowhere. Somehow even despite that the duo was still in a pretty upbeat mood, chatting merrily about the amazing concert they were at earlier that evening. Unfortunately it was already well past midnight and Leo was starting to feel really worn out after all the different excitements of the day so driving much further did not seem like such a great idea.

The closest town on the map was almost an hour away and even then, it was so small that Quinn and Leo doubted they would have found an open motel there anyway. Instead they decided to spend the night in the parking lot of this old truck stop they happened to be passing at the time. It looked abandoned, but most of the lamplights around the property seemed to still be working so they hoped that at least no animals would be disturbing them till morning.

Quinn needed to take a quick leak before bedtime but Leo was so wiped that he wasted next to no time reclining his driver seat all the way back and rolling up some old sweatshirt he found on the backseat for a makeshift pillow. Of course he agreed when Quinn asked him to try and stay awake until he was back in case something were to happen. But it wasn't even a full minute after his friend closed the car door behind himself that he began dozing off.

Quinn was only planning to run behind the building and have a piss there, but as he got closer, he realized that he could see a faint light flickering behind one of the windows. Maybe this place wasn't really as abandoned as they originally thought… Upon closer inspection, he found the door to the public toilet at the side of the building, that's where the light was coming from!

Much to Quinn's surprise, while not spotlessly clean by any means the bathroom wasn't a complete sty like he would have expected and after taking a small peek, he decided to try going inside, not knowing that nobody had been there in ages. He noticed a bit of a funky, musky aroma in the air, but honestly, that wasn’t a total dealbreaker. He walked up to the stalls and found them in a more than acceptable state as well. Those were going to be useful in case that double sized chili hot dog he got at the last gas station came knocking…

But one thing that caught Quinn's eye in particular had to be graffiti that covered the walls inside the stall. He giggled, wondering if he accidentally stumbled upon some secret gay cruising spot. The drawings were pretty simple and rather crude, depicting numerous beefy, burly men, with big cocks and even bigger beards! Quinn giggled when he noticed just how much care and attention was put into drawing their junk and their body hair, but how little anything else.

Upon a closer look, it was almost like a comic book of sorts, showing the lives of a pair of particularly hairy, bearded truckers (but really, mostly just the two of them fucking each other and the men they met on the road.) One was drawn almost like a round ball with how huge his gut was and while the other had a pretty hefty potbelly too, someone definitely put the most effort into making his arms look as big and muscular as possible.

Back in the car, Leo could see those same two arms in a much greater detail. As soon as he'd fallen asleep, he found himself having a very strange dream... In it, he was also reclining in front of the steering wheel in the middle of this same parking lot, only he was inside of a huge semi truck, rather than the old sedan he got from his dad. When he tried to move, Leo realized that he was occupying the body of someone else.

Someone big… really big. Those furry arms he saw waving in front of him were just enormous! He also had a beard, and it must have been really long and bushy because Leo could see its end brushing all across his meaty, ridiculously hairy chest whenever he looked down! He immediately blushed when he realized that wasn't the only thing he could see… This guy's fly was popped wide open with a fully hard, beercan of a cock sticking straight out of it!

And the freakiest thing was that as soon as he saw it, Leo began feeling so damn horny, as if he'd just been beating it off himself… suddenly it was almost getting hard to keep himself from wrapping this furry paw that he now had for a hand around the engorged, leaking piece of meat. Why not give it a few strokes? It wasn't like he was planning on cumming before the huz was back… that thought came so naturally to Leo that it didn't really occur to him to ask who was this ‘huz’ that he was talking about.

The burly trucker whose body Leo was now inhabiting did not like to think too hard about things, especially not when he was this hard and horny himself! If Quinn had still been around, he would have seen Leo squirming in the car seat, moaning pleasurably as the coating of stubble around his mouth began sprouting darker and thicker. But what was going on inside Leo's dream in that same moment was far less tame…

After giving his swollen meat a few timid strokes, he quickly discovered just how good it could feel to jerk off in the body of such a hulking, furry beast of a man. By now he was completely consumed by lust, grunting loud and beating it so hard that his huge, hairy balls were swinging in the air. Leo could actively feel himself growing dumber, but it was impossible to resist all that pleasure. As if this mind, limited to only the horny, brutish thoughts was experiencing them with that much more intensity.

Some of this horniness must have been rubbing off on Quinn because as he continued to study the lewd graffiti, his cock started to tent up in his pants without him noticing. His eyes were so tightly glued to the drawings that he also failed to realize that little by little, the space around him was changing. Paint was losing its vibrant color and peeling off the walls, the white tiles on the floor turning to shades of grey and freely overgrowing with grime. The unwashed smell of sweaty, wild sex was allowed to fill the air, opening the door to numerous, dirty and perverse thoughts that were just waiting for an opportunity to sneak into Quinn's head.

He found himself picturing what those two bearded truckers might have looked like in real life. Somehow not finding it strange at all that his interest was gravitating particularly towards the drawings depicting the most explicit sex scenes. They both had such massive cocks… the one belonging to the beefier trucker was hella thick, but so was the meat of the guy with a huge gut, and it might have been even longer! Quinn let out a moan as his cock started to grow even bigger, pressing uncomfortably against his jeans.

Ugh, why the fuck was he wearing something so damn tight while on the road? It always felt best to ride in nothing but his jock so he could always whip out his cock whenever he got horny and give hubby a hot show… and since the jockstrap was right there, he would always have something around to wipe up all that cum off his belly too! Suddenly Quinn had the perfect image of a blonde, big bellied trucker with an enormous, matted beard pressing a nasty, yellowed jockstrap straight into his face. He grinned and gave it a snort, then, a moment later, Quinn found himself making that exact same sound, his hand tightly squeezing the bulge sprouting from his crotch.

Fuck yeah, horny manstink always got him so damn hard! Quinn started to lift his other hand towards his face, he felt something between his fingers… its crusty fabric was soaked with so many old loads that he could already smell it… his ripe, old jockstrap… suddenly Quinn was pushing his face right into it, taking a deep snort as his faint, weekend's worth of stubble started to grow longer and denser. Already making him look like he hadn't shaved in well over a month, and probably hadn't bothered to comb his shaggy mess of beard in about as long too.

Oh damn, this manly stink was really getting him going! Quinn was in the process of trying to clumsily undo his belt and get ahold of his cock. But fuck, he needed more! His mouth was opening, the tongue sticking out further and further, something was telling him that he just had to give this rank jock a good lick… he could already almost taste those salty, countless loads spilled into it… but then suddenly Quinn opened his eyes, asking himself just what the fuck he was doing?! He tossed the jockstrap against the wall, pushing the stall door open and bolted outside.

Unfortunately for Leo trying to resist the influence of this place was proving to be far more difficult while asleep. Even despite his dwindling intellect, he could tell that this was no ordinary dream. Everything was too real… the inside of this cab, this hulking, beefy body covered in coarse fur, the way it felt when he squeezed this beer can thick cock that constantly dribbled with pre. He had this sudden urge to give it a taste and once he did, he simply couldn't stop! He was such a horny pig! Constantly beating off and huffing his ripe pits.

Leo was still able to tell that the deeper he sank into this lustful frenzy, the harder it was getting to recall ever doing anything else, ever being anything else than this massive, furry trucker! But who cared? He was so fucking hot now! Leo wasn't able to resist tilting the rear view window towards the cabin so he could see more of himself in the reflection. Getting so damn turned on admiring his broad, meaty chest and caressing the enormous beard that was hanging down from his tough, brutish face.

Back in the real world, Leo's body was moving in that exact, same fashion. Fingers combing through what was now a full beard, densely covering his cheeks while his other hand tugged on his swelling cock. Somehow Leo knew what was happening to him, that his real self was changing to resemble this burly, constantly horny, hirsute beast of a man but he was powerless to do anything about it. Completely trapped inside this horny wet dream and unable to wake up.

Even his best efforts amounted to little more than making himself shift from side to side in his seat. Except by now, it was a tall and wide driver's seat of a massive semi truck and with every stroke of his cock, Leo was getting closer to filling it completely with his furry bulk. He knew that the only hope he had left was for Quinn to quickly get back and wake him up before it was too late!

Unfortunately for Leo, his friend was going through a major crisis of his own at that same moment when he ran out of the bathroom stall and saw himself in the mirror. He was so unrecognizable that at first Quinn screamed, thinking that someone else was in here with him, but when it finally sank in that he was looking at himself, he was far too freaked out to make even a peep. His puffy face was completely covered in shaggy, matted hair! The only thing that Quinn could think of was that he must have been having some kind of an allergic reaction because the rest of his body was suddenly so swollen that his normally loosely fitting hoodie was ready to burst at the seams.

Quinn was panicking so much that despite having felt the messy hairs against his fingers, he still refused to accept that such a huge beard could have sprouted all around his mouth just like that. He rushed towards the sink, convinced that it was something he could simply wash off. Turning on the rusty tap and splashing his face in such a hurry that it was only when his beard was completely soaked wet, that Quinn got a good whiff of just how badly this water reeked.

It was so unbelievably ripe and musky, as if someone made a whole bunch of brawny construction workers wipe themselves with only a single towel after their shift, and then wrung it right above his face. Quinn let out a strained groan as he tried to hold his breath, but it was too late, his chest started to swell so rapidly that it felt like he might suffocate if he didn't pull off his hoodie. Only to find a massive, round gut flopping down onto the sink alongside a pair of fat moobs when he did.

It was just immense and it was still swelling larger and covering in thick, sweaty hair right before his eyes. Quinn’s gaze constantly darting back and forth between it and this massive, unkempt mess of a beard that was now cascading down his chest. Quinn had no idea what to do now, he only knew that somehow, watching it all happen was getting him so unbelievably horned up that he was only moments away from tearing his pants open to whip out his rock hard cock and start beating off.

But then it turned out that he won't even have to wait that long. Suddenly a big, muscled arm covered in thick, dark fur appeared on top of his belly, with another one undoing his belt and grabbing his cock from behind.

“Fuck huz, should have told me ya wanted to stick around cruisin’ for some cocksuckers round here, would have joined ya earlier! Or maybe even taken care of that gigantic schlong myself!”

Quinn moaned when he felt the grip tightening around his meat as the visitor's broad, rough fingers began massaging its entire length. He looked up and saw the gruff face of a hulking trucker brute with a beard almost as massive as his own. After a moment and a closer look Quinn recognized him, and of course he fucking did! It was his husband Leo, the horny pig couldn't even wait till he was done having a piss and had already stomped here with his cock out, wanting to fuck! But that was why Quinn loved that bastard so much, the only man he'd ever met who was as much of a horndog as himself! He grinned and pulled down his pants all the way, opening his hairy ass wide and sliding it onto Leo’s thick, throbbing cock.

“Yeah, give it to me you hot fucker! Yer gonna be tasting that load when ya rim my arse at the next stop!!!”

Wait… why was he saying that… Quinn wanted to tell Leo to stop but instead only kep spewing more dirty, perverted things and encouraging him to fuck him harder. God, that felt so damn good, seeing just how much his gut was turning this beefy trucker on! Leo was moaning even louder than he was when he caressed this furry, swelling beach ball with his meaty paws. Inside, Quinn was still desperately trying to tell his friend that he had to stop, but the only thing leaving his mouth was a horny litany of the dirtiest curse words ordering him to keep going until eventually even he was too turned on to talk at all.

Only grunting wildly as he tugged on his big nips and pushed his ass deeper and deeper onto Leo's beer can thick fuckstick. After all those years they've spent on the road together, fucking multiple times per day, they could both tell without fail just how close the other was to blowing his load. And with how loud and savage Leo's groans were getting, Quinn knew that the huz was already on the edge.

“Do it fucker! Blow that load in my… HNNGHHHHH!!!

He couldn't finish before he felt Leo squeezing his cock as hard as he could take it and jerking it rapidly until it began spewing thick globs of prime trucker spunk all over the floor in front of them. Then thrusting his cock as deep up Quinn's ass as he could before he started cumming as well, completely flooding the big bellied bear's insides. As always, the intensity of the orgasm leaving them heaving and panting loudly, completely dripping with sweat. After Leo slid his cock out, Quinn gathered some of the cum still oozing from its tip onto his tongue and pulled his man into a sloppy kiss, already looking forward to finding out just how much better this load was going to taste after marinating inside his hole until the next truck stop.

If you liked the story and would like to read more bear themed transformation fiction, or have something written for yourselves consider subscribing to my Patreon! This one in particular was a request from two of my subscribers!

I have also set up two extra accounts on twitter and bluesky for caption purposes! https://x.com/burrcapts https://burrcapts.bsky.social/

#transformation #bearification #hair growth #male tf #age progression #daddification #brutification #trucker #beard growth #beard #bear #gay bear

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itstheghostofmypast · 7 months ago

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His Little Cowboy

(College AU) Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: It turns out that beards aren't as bad as misinterpreting a text, especially when you want to introduce your lover to your friends. Or maybe don't plan on doing that in a themed college party?

Genre: Hurt Comfort

Word Count: 2.8K

Est. Read Time: 15 min

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Rating: PG-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Linked With: 22.59

A/N: Shout out to @yessa-vie straight up digging up the cowboy pics for me. The number of times I listened to this song- @edenesth , is to be blamed.

Moving past the sweaty bodies she groaned, inwardly grimacing at the stench of alcohol, cheap perfume and oh god please don't let that be puke. This is not how she wanted to spend her weekend, but ever since that dinner where the two had confessed to each other, San had been persistent about them making a public appearance together, slight problem though- he was popular, Mr. Charming, Mr. Optimism, Mr- WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE!?

With a scoff she jumped over some knocked-out dude, really leave it to Choi San to call her to a party and then not answer his phone- even so, he had wanted her to meet his friends, a very...very intimidating group of loud, popular, good looking guys, truth be told most of them already were in a relationship, which would explain why San was more persistent in giving them an official label, not that she would mind that, she loved him unconditionally, a feeling that had blossomed ever so slowly but hit her like a truck once it began to flow over, which is why...she had agreed to this stupid idea...which is why she had agreed to this...to coming here...to wearing such an outfit.

Standing on her toes she tried to spot her lover, who was supposed to be dressed as a cowboy in black; leave it to college parties to have the weirdest theme- it wasn't even Wild West, well, it was, but they called it 'Outlaw themed'. The theme itself was off-putting due to several historical events but who was she to say no when he had asked her so politely, so quietly, with his face buried in the crook of her neck in the late hours of the night as her fingers played with his short locks, humming when he mumbled against her skin, squeezing her closer as he asked her to attend this party with him, he'd even tell her what to wear, which was odd for when she had read the text the next morning really did confuse her, but agreed anyway- God her face was so itchy- OH SAN!

"SAN!" She called out, smiling when he turned around, eyes scanning the sea of bodies for her. Waving her arm in the air she walked closer to the man in the black cowboy hat, though his eyes never landed on her, instead, he was still looking around. With a huff she squeezed past a couple and almost tripped, only to collide with his chest- bare chest? Her eyes widened at the man, hands instinctively gripping onto the attire- a cropped leather waistcoat? Staring up at him she licked her chapped lips, tugging on the coat gently as he frowned down at her, why did he look...confused? Was he...upset she actually showed up? To be honest, she didn't have time to divulge her insecurities because the vest was distracting, the tussles were caressing her face and the bandana just made her Sannie look like-

"You lost there, buddy?"

Buddy?

"We thought you were dating someone? What are you collecting little boys for- oh wait the beard means you're a big boy right, partner?" Her head whipped in the direction of the voice, is that Wooyoung? Wait, little boy...my god.

"Sannie! It's me!" She squeaked cupping his face as he stiffened, before she felt him gently squeeze her waist, moving closer to her face before his expression morphed into pure disgust- "What the hell are you supposed to be!?" He whined, ignoring the way Wooyoung had burst out laughing, not stopping when his own partner slapped his shoulder, asking him not to embarrass San and his girlfriend even more.

"Like you said! A cowboy!"

They had moved to a quieter area of the house, one with proper lighting and- kitchen, all of them had crowded the kitchen, with her sitting on a counter as San glared at her, arms crossed over his chest.... how could someone look so nice in such poor lighting.

"Well?"

"Huh?"

"What are you supposed to be?" He asked in a low tone, ignoring how his friends were still snickering behind him. It amazed her how he was still towering over her, like that, kind of making her feel smaller than usual, twiddling her thumbs she mumbled "A cowboy...Sannie...you said let's go as a cowboy couple."

A deep laugh resonated from behind the man as she peaked up to find one of them, Seonghwa, who chuckled when their eyes met, only for him to give her a gentle smile, though she could see the glint in his eyes, a little teasing swirling within his orbs, but the angel, his angel, sitting next to him squeezed his hand, begging him to not make it worse.

"What- I? What!?" He gasped, arms flailing around to emphasize whatever the hell he was trying to say as she shrugged, "I SAID A COWBOY COUPLE!?"

"Yeah, and I am one."

"That usually means a guy and his girl!"

"You realise the actual number of cowgirls was less, if not nonexistent, and usually they did all the work but got little to no credit. This is exactly why these parties confuse me, are we glorifying misogyny?" She deadpanned, pointing to her fake beard causing him to facepalm, never had he met someone so smart yet so stupid- and to think he loved her? Who's the bigger fool here?

"I love how both of you are majoring in communication but aren't able to communicate with each other."

Her lips quirked downwards at that statement, feeling the weight of it hanging in the air- oh- so he wanted her to dress up like those sexy cowgirls...well he should've just said that! Even though she would want to say no, she would have done it anyway because it was for him. That's when it hit her, he wanted to introduce her to his friends too, and while all their significant others were dressed for the occasion, she looked like a hobo, with her baggy cowboy outfit, giant hat and well...the beard. Shit. This was not good, this was not good at all, she misread the situation again- what kind of girlfriend chooses to look unpresentable? What if he thinks she did this to embarrass him- hell he has every right to be upset with her-

"What?"

The sharp tone of his caused her eyes to flicker up from her lap to his face, gut twisting at the way he had turned back to stare at Wooyoung, his cold glare making the other one let out a nervous chuckle, wait no, he shouldn’t take the anger out on his friend, especially when it is her fault for just assuming what he meant- man this beard was itchy.

“I’m just saying…” Wooyoung shrugged, before looking around at everyone, most of whom were now engaged in talking to each other or on their phones, then back at San, who was still glaring at him. Sure, he wanted them to meet his girlfriend, and sure he was upset that she chose the wrong time to misread the situation, but that did not give anyone the right to humiliate her more than she already had done to herself-

“San-ah…” she whispered, gently nudging his leg with her foot, trying to talk to him, whispering, “I can go back and change…” Nah, she was just gonna dip and not come back, probably telling him how she got abducted by aliens by leaving him a note and disappearing because this was a moment of peak embarrassment-

“Your beard’s really cool, what did you use?”

“Huh?” moving to the right her eyes met a certain blonde man’s- she’d never heard Hongjoong speak before, well that’s because in any class the two shared he’d be sitting quietly at the back, “Oh um…facial glue.”

“Woah, you glued it?” He asked, moving closer to inspect it then hummed, “Dedication.”

“I mean she did fool Sannie here,” Seonghwa added, his angel sitting next to him nodding as she hummed in agreement, “It's an A for effort, I kind of wished I went for something similar.”

“I know right!” the girl who had been glaring at her idiotic boyfriend- the idiot was Wooyoung- for upsetting San added, “I was impressed- we should’ve done this, would’ve been so cool.”

She only smiled at their kind words, a bit upset about how she let him down, but hey, at least they were enjoying it. That was all it took for the awkwardness to fade though, perhaps with the help of the other women involved, the conversation had begun to flow smoothly, each one slowly introducing themselves, most men did constantly talk about the beard, but when it came to Jongho, San’s gym buddy – who she wanted to thank because, lord bless, the way her man had beefed up, she’d make sure Jongho and San never quit being friends- he did point out how “They’re all jealous they can’t grow beards as thick as yours- you pulled it off better than most of them could too.”

The causal chatter thus turned into loud, yet fun banter, her laughter causing San, who had been quietly standing next to her, back leaning against the counter she was sitting on, to look at her, chatting with the rest of them like they had been friends for years. Truth be told he found it amusing, no he loved it, how even at this point, knowing she made a mistake she was honest enough to tell him her opinion, about how she felt about the whole theme parties- communication was never really the problem if you ask him, perhaps it was the intent to make the other happy, that would cause problems, the fear of disappointing the other. No one really said that the girls should come dressed as sexy cowgirls or cowgirls at all, and the effort she had put into the outfit made him realise how this was the first party she had ever attended. He remembers how in the earlier days of their relationship, she had mentioned how she’d never been invited to a party, themed or not, not that she would ever go to one- though he had shushed her and promised to take her to one, but for almost four years she had been avoiding it- well perhaps she said yes, this time because they were an official item now, and not just a fling. That made him feel worse, he had spent 20 minutes of her ‘partying time’, arguing with her over something so stupid. He could only sigh at the way he ended up with someone who was only book smart but an idiot otherwise, someone who was so stubborn yet so caring, someone who would try their best to meet his expectations- even if it meant glueing a beard-

“Ow! San!” she hissed, rubbing her cheek before slapping his hand away, causing everyone else to stop talking and look at their friend, who held a tuft of black synthetic hair pinched between his fingers.

“You okay, dude?” Wooyoung asked as San frowned at the hair and then back at her, mumbling, “My god, this really is glued isn’t it?”

“YAH THINK?” she yelled before snatching the torn piece from his hand as she pouted at it, “What is wrong with you~” she whined only to be cut off by Mingi, who she had learnt was one of the noisiest and nosiest friends, spoke up, “The real question is, is San going to kiss her with the beard on?”

She looked up at him eagerly, batting her eyelashes at him, his eyes widening at the realization of how she was still able to look so cute; this was the exact same look she’d give him every time she knew she was winning, when she knew he’d give into her every whim, the look that would make him feel like he was the most important thing to her in the entire universe- maybe he really was- and for this very reason his head jerked to the side as he broke eye contact, knowing if he kept looking at her for a second longer, maybe he would’ve kissed her right there and then, in front of everyone, even though he knew how public display of affection was not her cup of tea. Even if touch was his love language, he knew she’d bask in it and ask for it behind closed doors, so the kiss right now was more of a way of satisfying the people around them, a way of satisfying him, as if she were trying to make it up to him, for misinterpreting the situation, for which she would choose to come out of her comfort zone just for, just to let him know how much he meant to her- god, he really did love her. The group broke out in laughter, causing San’s face to turn red, almost the same colour as her shirt.

She reached for him, fingertips brushing against his arm, causing him to stand up straight clearing his throat as he mumbled, “I’m gonna get you something to drink, stay with them,” as he left the kitchen, ignoring the ‘boo’s’ he was receiving from his friends- he was desperate to introduce her to his circle of friends, but he also forgot how bloody annoying they could be, teasing him at any moment given, hell they had even made a big deal out of his outfit for today, claiming how he ‘was trying so hard to impress her’, adding the ‘Sannie, you know she likes smart guys- oh wait, no maybe that’s not true since you’re in the picture’.

Sighing he looked at himself in the mirror, why was his face so pink? He had been washing his face for God knows how long, trying to calm down, trying to not think about how now everyone knew about his secret little lover, how they’d steal her attention, how they’d make sure she’d be involved in every activity, which was a good thing, but he was her Sannie! How could be her Sannie with them always around- oh my god, get a grip-did he turn redder? All he did was drink apple juice- shit, he had to get her something to drink!

Slamming open the door he stumbled out only to halt at the sight of the bearded cowboy- oh his bearded cowboy who was frowning up at him, causing him to pout at her, somewhat guilty for leaving her hanging and-

“Is the beard really bothering you this much?”

“No, they’re bothering me.”

“Huh?” she looked up at him as if he had spoken French, “What do you mean? I thought they liked me?”

“They do like you.” He sighed, reaching for her hand as he began to walk towards the nearby terrace, knowing it would be empty since the party was downstairs, sliding open the door he slipped outside pulling her out with him as he made her sit on one of the outdoor chairs, kneeling in front of her on the ground as he held her hands, looking up at her, “I’m afraid they like you so much that I won’t get to be myself around you, you know?” he mumbled before placing her hands on his cheeks, causing her to giggle and squeeze his face.

“Aww, Sannie, you don’t have to worry about that, I’m just glad they don’t think I’m weird.”

“They definitely think you are weird.” He mumbled out, only for her to squish his cheeks harder, leaning down to peck his puckered lips before letting go, though he pulled her back, his hand resting at the back of her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, holding her still as he brushed his lips against hers, “This beard is really annoying.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t kiss me with it glued to my face.” She whispered, grateful to finally have a moment of peace with him, a moment where they could just be themselves, “Next time, just come over and tell me what to wear.”

“Nah, I think I like this look on you,” He perked up, pecking her lips once more, causing her to let out a giggle, arms wrapping around his neck, about to ask him about the reason behind his choice of clothes when she was cut off, by a very noisy Mingi who’s hollering could be heard as he ran away,

“FOUND THEM! YA’LL OWE ME! HE’S TOTALLY INTO THE BEARD!”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she stood up, helping him up as well as she squeezed his hand, causing him to look at her, a pout already present on his face, dreading what was to come next, “Ready for a shit ton of teasing?”

“Not really.” He mumbled as he sighed, causing her to let out a chuckle as she dragged him back downstairs to the noisy group who was oh so ready to tease the hell out of their ‘Sannie’ and his little cowboy.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @spooo00oky @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp

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notafraidofredyellowandblue · 6 months ago

Text

Article Rammstein giving visually impaired fans a special experience

Article from 3voor12vpro.nl Rammstein show in Nijmegen 2024-06-18/19

Googly translated

Special tour by guitarist Paul Landers on the stage of the German metal band

june 24, 2024, text: robin hogenboom. photos: jens koch & lonneke prins.

When you think of Rammstein, you think of theatrical shows full of flames and fireworks. But what if you cannot enjoy it optimally due to a visual impairment? The German metal band organizes a guided stage tour for those people, where these fans can feel before the show what the rest of the audience will see later. 3voor12 Gelderland is lucky and can join the tour of June 18 in Nijmegen.

Of course, musically it's all rock solid. Yet the more than 100,000 music lovers who travel to Nijmegen on June 18 and 19 also expect a show that has been taken care of down to the last detail. Cooking pots, flamethrowers, rubber boats and a gigantic penis that squirts foam: it is part of Rammstein's standard repertoire. But what if you have a visual impairment? How do you make a show accessible to people who will experience little or nothing of all those theatrical excesses?

That thought also struck guitarist Paul Landers. “At one point I thought that blind fans couldn't see the stage and so maybe it would be good if they could feel the stage. That is how the first stage tours in 2022 came about.” Since then, fans have been able to register for the tours with a simple email – and a medical certificate. “On average, 4 to 6 people register for the tour, but due to increased safety measures, only 2 groups can participate at a time. Of course, every participant also has a supervisor.”

And safety, that is of course a thing. Paul: “The tour takes place once all preparations and rehearsals have been completed. That is why we take very small groups behind the scenes and extra security is present to guarantee the safety of the visitors.” And it comes as no surprise that parts of the stage also remain closed. Paul: “There are areas that are too unsafe for visitors, for example because pyrotechnics are ready there. These pieces are not part of the tour.”

The tour

When we report to the agreed location, we meet Twan Driessen (21) from Nijmegen, who will participate in the tour with his father as a guide. Although he will experience something that many Rammstein fans would sign up for, he only became a fan of the German band relatively recently. “I'm normally not a metal fan, but 'Deutschland' made me become a fan of Rammstein. That song really stuck.” The song also had an impact on his father: “he really ended up in the Rammstein corner!”

We walk past the dressing rooms and end up behind the characteristic stage. There we meet Paul Landers, who quickly takes Twan through some highlights. Paul places Twan's hands on a gigantic steel tube that holds the stage upright. The colossus, 60 meters wide and 35 meters high, weighs about 1,350 tons and is transported through Europe by 90 trucks, says Paul. “And we have two. The other is already in Dublin.”

Schedule

And then we enter the actual stage. Just below Christoph Schneider's drum kit, Twan is allowed to experience some attributes that are already ready for the show. For example, he receives an explanation about a flamethrower and the cooking pot from 'Mein Teil', but also the pram that will be rolled onto the stage for 'Puppe'. Although, roles? Paul: “The ceiling under the stage is very low, so the wheels don't fit under it yet. They are added at the last minute.”

The more you think about it, the more special it actually becomes. About an hour and a half before the start of the show, which is known for how tightly organized it is, Paul takes the time to explain everything about the show to Twan. And the pleasure with which he provides the tour is admirable. Only the supervision of a few crew members reveals that the organization is more involved than the guitarist lets us experience.

Paul dismisses the fact that it has an impact on his own planning: “it must be well timed between the arrival of the audience and the start of the show. I have to be there on time, but it's all worth it to me. I really enjoy doing the tours for the visually impaired.” What do you find most special about the tours? “Every tour is different. Sometimes people are moved to tears. People who have poor or no vision often have a sensitive and reserved character. I love it when I can make those people happy!”

The stage

Finally, the hydraulic lift that leads to the actual stage lowers. As the field slowly fills up, Twan gets the opportunity to feel the floor of the stage. And the type of flooring comes in very handy today. Paul: “This material is normally used on oil platforms, so that you do not slip when it is wet. It's sharp and hard, so you'll need thick shoes to stand on it for the entire show. And if you trip and fall on your knee, it will hurt you for a while!”

After a photo moment with Paul we are escorted back to the field. Twan: “When I was selected for that blind tour, I already had the feeling that something special could happen. And then the guitarist comes to do the tour! It's almost surreal that you can just chat with someone so big and famous. That someone from the band takes you along and takes the time for you. I think that is really special and exceeds my expectations!”

The show

Then of course it's time for the show. Although the weather is anything but good, the atmosphere is exceptionally good. Of course, the show is phenomenal again, just like two years ago . The differences with that show can be counted on one hand. 'Armee der Tristen', 'Zick Zack', 'Zeig Dich' and 'Heirate Mich' have made way for 'Ramm4', 'Keine Lust', 'Asche zu Asche' and 'Wiener Blut' respectively, with the latter in particular having a considerable intense addition to an already impressive show. The men play very tight and don't really loosen the reins anywhere. You would almost forget that the band is celebrating their thirtieth anniversary this year.

Twan: “I thought they played well live, full of energy. The singing was also good and it was really heavy at times. 'Puppe' and 'Adieu' at the end were impressive!” But: did the tour have any influence on Twan's concert experience? “I liked getting an insight into what that stage looks like, with the flamethrowers and the cooking pot. When you feel the stage and how big it all is, that is impressive and that also gives a better idea of what you get on such an evening.”

The last word goes to Twan: “compliments to Paul Landers and the management of Rammstein. They did a really good job: the service, the reception, everything. Well organised!”

We would like to thank Greenhouse Talent, the management of Rammstein and in particular Paul Landers and Twan Driessen for their cooperation in this article!

#rammstein #paul landers #tour for visually impaired fans #love that he does this #nijmegen 2024 #and good publicity

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bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

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I just read Playboy and... Oh boy. Damn. Bashful Joel is *the best.* Also, I'm so curious if they woke up Ellie lmao that would be horribly, deliciously awkward

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡

pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

word count: 819

warnings: awkward. Very subtle references to smut. Not proof read.

note: I loved this ask so much that I had to write it just for funsies. I think I try really hard (too hard) sometimes to be a serious writer when sometimes I’m in need of a little bit of fun! See the fic that inspired this ask here. PLEASE NOTE: at the end of this there are two dashes ( - - ) there is a glitch removing the last paragraph of my fic so this is the only way I can curb it!

Fuchsia blurs across Ellie’s cheekbones, encroaching on the skin of her throat and exposing her obvious discomfort in the silvery reflection of the wing mirror. You chew on the inside of your cheek raw as you watch her for hours, her eyes staring into the obscure image of the passing evergreen outside the window as though she was experiencing shell shock.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Kid,” Joel speaks up through the silence, his eyes drifting up to the wing mirror glass and assessing the image of Ellie’s reflected mortification. Outwardly cringing, she glances forward at Joel and shrugs awkwardly.

“Yeah, well, you were ‘uncharacteristically’ loud last night,” she mumbles under her breath, and you swear you feel your insides curdle. Joel’s eyebrow arches slightly in question, but you know exactly what she’s touching on, swallowing back your urge to explain and apologise.

“Gotta speak up, Kiddo. Can’t hear you on that side,” Joel reminds Ellie of his deaf ear, and you find yourself closing your eyes in mortification at his insistence to find out what was bugging the poor, tortured girl.

Ellie clears her throat with a shake of her head, sprawling out across the back seat in a dramatic flop.

“It’s not important.”

Joel, frustrated now, aims his scrutiny at you. His bronze eyes study your discomfort; his eyebrows pinched together when you form your lips around the words ‘she knows.’

The result is almost instantaneous—Joel’s grip on the leather steering wheel creaks, his knuckles white. You can practically see his stomach drop, and he lets out an awkward chuckle that lacks humour. Resting your elbow against the curve of the door, you hide your eyes behind your fingers.

“… Ellie,” Joel speaks tentatively, and you swear you can feel the almost nauseous discomfort radiating off the teenage girl in waves, “… Uh… When-“

“‘A man and a woman love each other very much’? Are you fuckin’ serious, Joel? Are you about to give me the birds and bees talk?!” Ellie scoffs, shaking her head, “You really are shoddy at this.”

“I didn’t-… I ain’t had to talk about this before,” Joel grumbles, teeth gritting as he rubs at the back of his neck to wipe the nervous sweat away.

“You don’t have to. You were both so noisy I got a pretty clear picture!” She pointed out viciously, and you swear you wished a Bloater would just run at the truck and flip it over, knocking you out and putting you out of your misery. You’re cringing so hard you swear you’ve tied your intestines in a knot.

“Shit-… ‘M sorry, Ellie. You shouldn’ta heard that…” Joel mumbles, and it’s like he’s getting his knuckles rapped with a ruler by his maths teacher. You’d never heard the gruff, unapologetic man sound so meek.

There’s a long stretch of silence, and it almost tempts you to peek through your digits and see what is happening. So quiet and tense is the atmosphere that the running engine of the ageing vehicle sounds like a mountain avalanche, rumbling within the contents of the van’s metal shell. You suppose a huge rock hitting you head on would be more optimal than this utterly humiliating conversation.

Joel damn near stalls the truck when Ellie speaks up, catching you both off guard with what she chooses to say next.

“… So… *Is* he smaller than the average American dick length?”

“Ellie!” You and Joel yell out in shock, and Ellie almost falls off the seat in her intense laughter, clutching at her stomach at the evident shame that decorates Joel’s expression.

“I’m just fuckin’ with ya! I don’t wanna know that shit!” She giggles, wiping tears from her waterline with her knuckles.

“Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, shaking your head and leaning it back against the headrest.

“No thanks, that’s what Joel is for.”

“Ellie, I swear I am gonna kick you out of this truck and make you walk to Wyoming,” you insist, pointing towards the door handle beside you with zeal.

“Got it, got it,” she chuckles, sitting up again, “But don’t think I’m lettin’ you off that easy. I hear anything nasty? I’m screaming so a runner comes and kills us all. It’s less painful than listening to what I heard last ni-…”

When you dare to look, poor Joel is staring vacantly ahead of him as he drives, looking as though he’s really wondering just why the *fuck* he decided to take this job from Marlene and whether or not Ellie would be able to find her own way to Wyoming if he dropped her off on the roadside and abandoned her. Surely scrappy little Ellie could deliver herself with a map and a single cereal bar for protection?

#answering asks #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #tlou hbo #tlou #ask imagines

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ejoygvf · 2 years ago

Text

A Bad Day

I don’t really see Josh as much of a hardcore dominant, so this was very different to write but something I needed to get off my chest!

Your day was going from bad to worse. Luckily your wonderful boyfriend was happy enough to be able to change that for you and turn a bad day into a great one.

Content Warnings: 🔞 EXPLICIT Sexual Content!!! Fingering, oral M/F, unprotected sexual intercourse (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) , spanking, whipping, spitting, daddy kink, extreme degradation, mild bdsm, control, bit of fluff and I THINK that’s it. Straight up porn basically.

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

———————————————

Your day had been an absolute shit show. The stress that had amounted up throughout the day and you had just about reached breaking point. It had been one thing after another. You dropped your favourite mug in the morning and it had smashed into irreparable pieces, you missed your first train on the way to work and your second was delayed, a dickhead truck driver decided to drive into a puddle and soak you with muddy rain water as you walked along the pavement, you left your work pass at home and were stuck outside in the pouring rain for 15 minutes before security eventually buzzed you in. Yeah, THAT much of a shit show day.

Finally, you were on your way back home from work. It had dragged on for what felt like 15 hours, rather than 8. The train journey home was a lot smoother, thank fucking god. It was actually quite quiet too, which was a relief. You put your headphones in and turned the volume all the way up before slumping your head back into the train seat and taking the deepest sigh, humanly possible trying to figure out how to de-stress after todays events. There was just one thing. One singular thing that could help vanish this shitty day away. Whipping your phone out of your pocket you sped text your boyfriend, Josh.

You: Hey baby, I know you’ll still be at the studio when I get back but hopefully not for much longer, right? I need my daddy and I need level 10, please? Love you

Josh: Angel! Will be finishing up the vocals now and headed home after, so see you soon. Jesus fuck babe, level 10? Been a while, must have had a shit day? Daddy’s got you. Love you too, forever

You: Perfect, see you soon.

You and Josh had been together coming up four years, you were absolute best friends and knew each other inside out. Everyone knew that you two came as a package deal. He was a ray of sunshine, the most energetic human with the widest smile, always had optimism up his sleeve and on top of all that he was fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful dimples, a set of perfectly straight, white teeth with a tiny gap in his front two, caramel coloured eyes and curly brown hair, falling around his face.

Greta Van Fleet had blown up so quickly, it had been a bit of a whirlwind the last few years. They had millions of fans across the globe, people screaming their names at concerts, thousands of comments of admiration on their instagrams. But even with the weight of all of that, your relationship never once faltered. In fact, if anything, it just strengthened. You were so proud of the boys and were lucky enough to get to go on tour with them, so you and Josh didn’t have to be apart for long stints at a time. You had a lovely apartment together in Nashville and work were really understanding when you went on tour with him, letting you work remotely.

Your sex life was a whole different story. Everyone always knew you both as the most loved up, affectionate and gentle couple. Always calling each other pet names, touching in any capacity you could, two peas in a pod. Your sex life was incredible and very different to what people assumed it would be. You’d had a system that you’d built over the last couple of years, using the first two years of your relationship to explore each others bodies, likes, dislikes, turn ons, turn offs and kinks. Your system was simple and discreet enough for the two of you. 1 being loving, gentle, slow and romantic. 10 was hard, rough, bdsm, painful, dom/sub sex. You had normally stuck between 3-6 week to week, rarely ever using 10 but tonight you needed it. Josh knew of your Daddy issues and was completely okay with this name being used on certain occasions.

Finally after what felt like forever, you got through your front door, throwing your bag and coat on the floor beside you before throwing yourself on the plush, burgundy sofa. Your apartment always smelt like incense and was full of plants, colourful art work, Moroccan style rugs and sun catchers. You stared up at the ceiling taking deep breathes and decided to doze off for a bit before Josh got home. Before you knew it, you’d fallen into a light sleep.

You must have not been sleeping long before you felt a finger gently dragging along the bridge of your nose. “Hey baby, wakey wakey. I’ve missed you, it’s been an entire 10 hours since I last saw you.” You heard Josh giggle as he whispered to you. You knew the corners of your lips began to turn upwards but kept your eyes closed. Pretending to keep up the sleep facade, you ignored him, seeing how long it would take for him to crack. “Baaaaabyyyyy!! I’m here, wake up now!” The volume of his voice was definitely louder now and he had began raking his fingers through your hair. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. You heard him let out a sigh of defeat. He knew you were faking it so decided to play you at your own game. “Well, I guess I’ll just go and make myself cum because my little whore is clearly too tired from her day.” He went to stand and you grabbed his wrist before he could walk away, pulling him on top of you.

He chuckled as he fell against you, laying on top of your torso with hands either side of your face. He lifted one of them, stroking your bottom lip with his index finger. “Ahh, did someone’s dreams become a nightmare?” He said through a mischievous grin. “Absolutely Joshy, I dreamt that my boyfriend wasn’t going to be throat fucking me any more.” You gave an over dramatic pout and puppy dog eyes. “Oh no, we wouldn’t want that. Because I definitely will be throat fucking you. Got to make Daddy happy, don’t we?” Before you could say anything else he firmly grasped his hand round your jaw, pushing your lips together. The pain from the inside of your cheeks pushing against your teeth sent a quiver through your body. “Now, from this moment on, you’ll listen to what I say, you’ll obey the rules I lay and you’re going to be a good whore for Daddy, aren’t you?” You nodded eagerly, eyes starting to water. “Good, now taste me.” He spat straight into your mouth before leaning forward to lick across your lips, all while his hand hadn’t moved from squashing them together. “Swallow me down, whore.” You did exactly as he asked.

Within seconds you were on your hands and knees with one of his hands wrapped around your hair, being used like a dog lead. “Follow me, slut.” He pulled you along by your hair towards the bedroom and you crawled on all fours behind him. Your stomach flipping at the thought of what was to come. Your shit day was already starting to wash away, you just wanted to be dominated, whilst simultaneously having the best orgasms you could get and hoping the rest of the world would disappear.

You eventually crawled your way into the bedroom, Josh being almost silent the entire walk there, only a small smirk across his face. “Up, now.” He pulled you up by your hair and he tightened it into his fist, causing your neck to snap back so you were looking up at him. “Go and stand against the wardrobe. Back against it, hands by your sides, palms faced flat against the doors. Don’t fucking move. You got it?” Curious as to what was in store you nodded “Yes.”

A soft slap across your cheek took the breath out of your lungs. “Yes what?”

He asked, holding onto your wrist. “Yes Daddy, I’ll do what you say.” His face lit up “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You filthy whore.” He placed a gentle kiss to your rising red cheek and pushed you in the direction of the wardrobe.

Back against it, like he asked, hands flat and pressed against the door, facing the bed. He was right in your eye line. Breath, shaky with the anticipation of what he had in mind. He sat at the edge of the bed, lent back on his hands, legs spaced widely apart. He had the look of sex in his eyes. He started reaching to the hem of his white jumper, pulling it over his head and winking at you as he threw it across the floor. Next, he kicked off his shoes, took off his socks, all whilst keeping eye contact.

You were practically writhing, stood in your place at the sight of his naked torso, you wanted him so bad. The heat between your legs had been building up long before this started and you could feel your wetness pooling. “So far, so good. You’re doing well for me. Aren’t you, you worthless slut?” The degrading names caused your clit to throb “Yes I am Daddy. Just for you, all for you.” He nodded, hands starting to slide to the growing bulge in his jeans, using his palm to rub over it. “Ahhh fuck…” his eyes rolled back and his head flopped backwards to reveal his delicious looking neck to you. You watched him lick his lips before he unbuckled his belt and placed it on the bed next to him, you knew it was going to be used later.

“You’re gonna watch me, baby. Watch me make myself feel good. You can’t do anything about it but watch.” Your stomach dropped. Oh fuck, how are you about to control yourself? How are you going to manage to stay still through this, you were already dripping at the show he was putting on. His hands were working fast to unbutton his jeans, you hear the zipper and watched him shimmy the denim and boxers off. The hardness of his cock making a slapping sound as it hit the bottom of his stomach. The smirk on his face is so fucking smug and you hate how much you love it. You’re clenching your legs together at the current sight, Josh sat fully naked on the edge of your bed with fuck me eyes.

“You like what you see, don’t you? You’ve seen this cock so many times before baby and you’re amazed every time. It’s yours, all yours. You want it bad, huh?” You stare, almost in a daze and nod your head, licking your lips. His hand makes his way down to the base and starts moving slowly up and down his length, thumbing up to the tip, collecting the drops of pre cum before smoothing them over himself. You can see it practically twitching in his hands. You’re digging your nails into the wood behind you to stop yourself from lunging forward.

“Oooooh shit, this feels so fucking good baby. You have no idea. You like how Daddy’s cock looks in his hand? Mmmm, I could cum just like this.” He licked him lips, staring straight into your eyes with whimpers escaping him and a heavy breath. You were throbbing at the sight. “Come here, baby.” He moaned out. Finally, you thought. You’re going to get to touch him. You started to walk over before his hand came up to halt you. “Uh uh, on your hands and knees, slut. Crawl to me.”

You did just that, no questions asked.

You made your way toward him before kneeling in front of him, face inches away from his cock, you could smell him and see every pulse and vein as his hand slowly worked over it. A light slap across your face snapped you out of your trance and his hand snaked it’s way around your throat with a firm grip. “You’re staring too hard you dirty whore. I bet you’re dripping for me, aren’t you? I want you to strip for me. Make it slow, show me that you’re worth it.”

Obeying his every wish, you slowly stood, keeping your eyes on his big caramel coloured irises and brushed your hair behind your shoulders before starting your strip tease for him. You’d never been overly confident in your body, picking faults and finding new things to be insecure about, daily. But Josh had changed that, he taught you how to fall in love with all of yourself. How to admire every little scar, stretch mark and all the insecurities that would eat away at you. He made you feel sexy, beautiful and confident. So doing things like this in front of him was less of a dreaded thing and more of a thrill seek.

Your shoes and socks were already off and you were just left in black leggings and an oversized hoodie. Thank god you chose today to wear matching underwear. You turned round slowly, back to him, shimmying your leggings down the curve of your ass, giving a spank on your left cheek before taking them off completely, lifting your hoodie to show your ass, giving a little shake. His eyes were lighting up at the sight of your ass shaking in the thong. You very slowly body rolled your way out of the hoodie before you were left in the matching navy blue set he got you one Valentines holiday. You ran your hands up and down your curves, using your finger tips to trace over the cups of your bra and the hem of your thong. You turned back to him, wearing a smug smile.

Josh had dramatically slowed down his hand movements, jaw gaped open at the sight before him. He stood and made his way over to you, tracing his hands over your shoulders before turning you back around, facing away from him. “Touch the floor, baby. I want to see you bent over.” Knees bent slightly, you palmed the floor with your ass up in the air. “Mmm, good fucking girl, such a good girl, baby. You look so good.” CRACK, a searing pain felt across both ass cheeks made you jolt and your knees buckle. Josh hurried to keep you from falling. “You gotta take these whips like a good whore. Stay still. You’ll stay still for me, won’t you? You know the safe word if it gets too much.” The after sting felt so good and you knew there would be belt shaped bruises splayed across you tomorrow. “Yes Daddy, I promise. Punish me.” You sounded pathetic and desperate. The leather hitting you three more times, Josh asking you to count with him with each blow to the ass. Your cheeks were numb by the time he was finished, watery eyes and an almost hoarse voice from your screams and moans.

He knelt down with his face centimetres from your ass. “Such an obedient little slut. So desperate, so pathetic. I love it.” He delicately kissed his way over both your ass cheeks, lightly grazing his fingertips over the raised marks, a slight burn with each pass he made. “Marked the way you should be, by me. I can see how wet you are. Your underwear is practically stuck to your pussy. You’re leaking out the sides, baby. Fuccck.”

He laid his palms flat against each ass cheek and used his thumbs either side of the crack to trace down to your entrance, pulling apart slightly when he got to your pussy. “Looks so good, whore. Wanna taste? Don’t answer that, it’s not a question. Taste yourself for me.” Without hesitating, you slid your hand in between your legs, dipping under the lace and curled two fingers into your entrance, you were soaked. You brought them up to parted lips and sucked off your juice. You tasted sweet, fresh and wanted more. “Mmmm, so good Daddy and all for you.” You could hear him grinning through his words “You’re damn right, you cum slut. My turn. Don’t fucking move.”

His hands made their way to the top of your thong, pulling down gently, hooking his index finger under the thin fabric between your cheeks he pulled forward and let them fall to the floor. “There she is. Pretty, soaked pussy. Ahhh baby, look at her. Almost as pretty as you.” He gave a firm but quick spank to your cunt before leaning forward and blowing gently over it. You were whimpering, your entire core burning, twinging. You were so desperate for just some sort of touch. Then he stood up and backed off. Feeling deflated you let out a sigh. “Aww poor baby, thought I was gonna eat you out? No. You’re here to serve me right now, come here and choke on Daddy’s dick.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, lent back on his elbows, legs slightly spread and he gave you a nod. You hopped down to your knees looking up at him through your lashes and he placed a finger under your chin before grabbing your throat tightly, choking you and knocking the air out of your lungs. “Take that bra off, I wanna see those tits bounce while you suck me.” Reaching behind your back, you released the clasp and threw the bra to the side of the room. Your nipples were already hard and so sensitive so it made you squeal when Josh lent forward twisting them in his fingers. He moaned at the sight of your eyes rolling back at the pleasure he was giving you. “Such a bombshell, baby. Will never get tired of this view. Now put that mouth to good use, you pathetic slut.”

Doing as you were told, you slotted yourself between his parted legs and took him in your hand. It was warm and rock solid, twitching with any movement your hand made. His lips parted and his eyes were fixed on yours. You gave a long firm stroke from the base to the tip, leaving your tongue on the tip, lapping up any pre cum you could, just for a taste. He was impatient, not wanting to be teased, he grabbed your hair into his fist, pulling your head back “Open up baby. Use this and make it sloppy.” He grunted before spitting into your mouth. He pushed you onto his cock, you took him all the way back until you could feel the tip hit the back of your throat. “Ahhhh shit, you dirty fucking slut. Take it all.” He was pushing himself into you, keeping your hair fisted into his hand. Your mouth was full, eyes watering, gagging around his length, you could barely breathe but my god was it making you spill down your thighs. “Mmmm, let me fuck that mouth of yours, stay still for me.” You placed your hands on his thighs, knowing what was to come. He started slowly thrusting in and out of your lips, his mouth falling apart and letting out disgruntled moans with each pass. He was warm and slightly salty from the pre cum, so hard and you could feel every bump, vein and crevice of him. You sucked him in with every thrust.

“So good, such an obedient whore for me. But I’m not ready to cum yet. Up. Stand up, now.” He stood up, pulling you up by your hair and walked you over to the bed before pushing you down. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you down so your ass was half hanging off the edge. He knelt in between your legs, taking one of them over his shoulder. “Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this baby.” he breathed, his eyes found yours before reaching down and dragging a finger over your slit. “Tell me. How much do you enjoy having your cunt eaten? You want my face buried in that pretty pussy of yours until you cum on my tongue?” You nodded eagerly holding onto his hand, your other gripping desperately onto the sheets.

With that he gave you a wink and licked through your folds, his tongue flat and wide as he did. Repeating this, he made sure to stay around your clit, sucking gently at it before pushing his weight up on his hands and staring up at you. “Now, be a good girl and ride my face.” he demanded, his pupils blown out, causing his eyes to turn from that caramel colour to almost black. With that, he moved to lay at the head of the bed, grabbing your hand and pulling you to him as you got up on your knees. “Hurry up baby, don’t keep me waiting.”

You crawled up the bed to meet him and straddled his shoulders, peering down at him as he snaked his arms around your thighs. Pulling you in closer, a grin forming on his face as you moved your knees to either side of his head. He leant up and connected his mouth to your waiting cunt. The contact made you shiver, moaning out as he pulled you down onto his face. His tongue made quick work of lapping and licking at your entrance, the bridge of his nose connecting with your pulsing clit each time he moved his face. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the headboard to steady yourself as you begin to roll yourself down, fucking yourself on his tongue. You could hear him slurping and licking, moaning at the taste and feel of you as the grip he had around your thighs tightened. He used his hands to guide your pussy over his face, making sure his nose hit all of the sensitive spots his tongue couldn’t as his mouth paid special attention to your entrance. His tongue flicked around you in the most delicious ways until you felt your legs begin to shake. You could feel yourself getting close, the flames in your stomach getting hotter and coursing through you. Panting and near on screaming, you dropped your head back “Daddy, I’m gonna cum. Please, please can I cum?” You wailed out. “Yes baby, feed me. Let that cunt go.” That was the command you needed, soaking his mouth and chin as he drank you up. He continued to lick and suck at your pussy as his hands held you still over him. You were shaking violently at the over stimulation. “Fuccccck, oh fuck fuck fuck. I can’t Daddy, fuck it’s so good.” He just laughed at you, continuing to hold you in place, knowing it was verging on painful. When he felt satisfied with the work he’d done, he loosened his grip on you and tapped your thigh gently.

“Come clean me up, baby.” Knowing exactly what was expected of you, you crawled over to him and licked over any remnants of you on his face. “Come here good girl, lay on your back. Hold your legs against your chest. Gonna make you squirt, you know I love making you squirt. I want you to cover me.” You lay on your back, interlocking your fingers behind your thighs and bringing them to your chest. He knelt next to you, one hand keeping your ankles together and his other giving slaps to your dripping, overly sensitive cunt. He spat on it before plunging two fingers into your entrance. He started slow, curling his fingers upwards each time he entered, hitting that sweet spot. He used his thumb to rub gentle circles onto your clit as he sped up his fingers that were fucking you. You were panting fast and moans started to fall out of your mouth. Your eyes were rolling back, your neck craned upwards as you used your free hand to clutch onto your tits, playing with your nipples.

“What a worthless slut, you are. Look at this pretty cunt, needs to be filled more I think.” He entered another finger, stretching you open further. “Oh fuck, fuccccck Daddy. So good.” He started to vigorously pump his fingers in and out of you and you could feel yourself getting to your breaking point. Your clit was aching with the contact from his thumb, his fingers so deep inside of you. The sides of your pussy aching as he was pounding his hand against your entrance. “I’m gonna cum daddy, please please. I need to cum.” He smiled, fucked out eyes, sweat glistening over his entire body. “Give it to me baby, squirt all over me.” Just like magic, he released his fingers and started to rub them over your entire cunt back and forth with high speed as your spray hit him, the floor, the bed and your legs. Your back arched high off the bed, the screams were so loud you are sure your neighbours would have heard, you were sweating and you felt paralysed by pleasure. He had his mouth open and tongue out, collecting any juice he could catch as it squirted out of you. “I’ll never get tired of that sight, baby.”

He gave you a couple of minutes to collect yourself, your chest aching from how hard you’d been breathing. You shuffled yourself up to the head of the bed, knowing Josh was ready to fuck. You’d already cum twice and he would want at least two more orgasms from you before he would be willing to release his own. He placed himself between your legs, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips. This took you by surprise because whenever you were having level 10 sex, it was almost an unspoken rule that you didn’t kiss on the lips. You smiled sweetly, spreading yourself for him. “Ready for you, Daddy. Want your cock, please.” He ran the tip of his dick through your folds and teased at your entrance, watching your face as he did. “God you’re so wet for me again, didn’t take long did it? You desperate whore.”

The sting of pleasure pulsed around you as you felt Josh’s cock stretch and fill you up. You’d barely just recovered from your last orgasm. He held himself there for a moment so you could adjust to the feeling of him before pulling out of you fully. Thrusting back into your waiting cunt, desperate to be stretched around him again, he lent forward and bit your jaw before spitting over your face and giving a firm slap to your tits. He did this several times alternating between each boob. Each time, you cried out his name, your fingernails digging into his back as he drug you through an inferno of pleasure, pushing you towards the edge of release with each pound. You could hear the squelch of your wetness pooling at your entrance with each thrust. He could tell that you were dangling on the edge of your orgasm, your legs quaking against his body and your arousal soaking him with each thrust into your pussy, he moved a hand between the two of you, circling his thumb around your clit in slow, tight movements.

“That’s my good girl.” he coaxed, thumb still circling your most sensitive spot. As his cock pumped into you more aggressively, his moans now getting louder. “Give it to me baby, I can tell you’re right there.” He spoke with his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, before biting down, sucking a small mark into the skin there as he felt you finally release, clenching around him and crying out his name. “Fuck Josh, I’m cumming, Joshy baby… Ahh I’m cumming so hard around your fucking cock, Daddy.” Slowing down, just pounding as hard as he could every few seconds, he let you come down. “Yes baby, say my fucking name. Nobody makes that pussy feel as good as I do.” He slapped your face, hard before grabbing your throat.

He smiled down at you before making more demands. His sudden movement, or lack there of, caught you off guard. “On your knees, ass up.” He shouted, moving away from you to give you room. When you moved a little too slow for his liking, rolling onto your stomach before pushing up onto your knees, he cracked a stinging slap to the right side of your ass, it would be joining the belt bruises from earlier. “I don’t have time to be waiting for you, cum slut.” You positioned yourself so your chest was pressed to the mattress and your ass was as high up in the air as you could get it. You felt him grab onto your hips, he gave you no time to ready yourself before burying himself balls deep within your tight, wet pussy.

In this position he was able to fuck into you deeper, pulling you back to him with every roll of his hips. The sound of his balls slapping against your clit at a furious pace drowned out both of your moans. You know you weren’t supposed to but you couldn’t help but beg him to fuck you harder and faster. All you could do was grab at the sheets on the bed, your body shaking violently as you climbed towards another orgasm. He shut you up by reaching his hands round to your face, hooking his fingers into your cheeks and pulling your mouth back, using them as reigns. His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot deep within you that so few had found before. He had you climbing that ladder, helping you get closer and closer to the top each time before backing off. He was edging you and each time you would slide your way back into the agonizing pit of darkness that he drug you through with each deep thrust of his thick cock. You felt like you couldn’t take it anymore. You were overstimulated, fucked out, too sensitive, and begging for sweet release. “Please, please, Daddy. Please, please I need to cum. I can’t, I can’t. Please!” You cried out until finally, finally as Josh moved one leg up to rest onto his foot, you felt him at a new angle. This one caused your head to drop forward, white heat racing through your body as that tight coil of desire snapped and sprung loose within you. You clenched down around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing as your arousal soaked him. The noises your bodies made as they met and pulled apart became wet and sloppy.

Josh was about to give into his own release, his body leaning over yours as his mouth fell near your ear. “That’s my beautiful whore, feel your cum round my cock. You hear that? So wet.” He released his hands from inside your mouth and onto your hips again. He pushed one hand onto your lower back, forcing you flat against the bed as he leaned over fucking into you as hard and deep as he could. “Oh baby, that’s it. Take it, fuck. You take my dick so good, gonna cum in that sweet, pretty pussy.” He moaned, releasing his load into your spent cunt. You felt him paint the inside of your walls. His thrusts slowed, faltered, stilled and finally stopped. He pulled out and ordered you onto your hands knees again, so he could watch his cum drip out of you. “Mmm, let’s not have this escape. You’re mine and I need to mark you.” He entered two fingers inside of you, pushing his release back into you. You arched your back at the contact, he was furiously fingering you until you came again, and with both his and your cum on his fingers, he was satisfied.

“Come here, baby. Let’s taste together.” He pulled your mouth to his, dancing tongues and lips messily before he placed fingers between both your mouths, so you could each get a taste. You let out a joint moan at the taste of your releases. “I love you so much, baby” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you too, so so much.” After a little and very gentle make out session, he stroked his fingers through your hair as you spoke about your days before deciding to clean up.

He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bubble bath he had ran. Two bottles of water waiting for you both. He carefully got in behind you. You lay back with your head against his chest as he scattered kisses over your shoulders and neck. He washed your hair for you and made sure your were clean and not too sore after your session. Taking special care of the bruises he had left, being as gentle as possible. “Thank you for making a shit day, much better. Best way to release stress is when Daddy comes out.” You giggled, looking back at him. He reached forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you sweetly on the lips. “You’re welcome my gorgeous girl. You’re worth it. I’d do anything for you, I’m sorry you had a shitty day, but so glad I could improve it. I love you so fucking much.” He placed more kisses over your face. “Now, let’s order some food, you can choose! We’ll cuddle up on the sofa and we’ll stick Shrek on the TV. How does that sound?” He smiled at you. Resting the side of your face against his chest, you smiled up at him. “Perfect, I’m so lucky I have you in my life. I love you, Joshy.”

#josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #josh kiszka #greta van fic #greta van fluff #sam kiszka #danny wagner #jake kiszka #greta van angst #greta van fleet #greta van meme #josh kiszka fan fiction

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ghoul-foolery · 6 months ago

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Dirty Windows | 16 | Nora x Hancock

A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU

Fic Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

When Nora thought for sure she was going to die too, the pain stopped – and then there was nothing. Nothing but the emptiness. Nothing but the grief. Half of her soul was suddenly gone forever. She was dropped in the middle of the ocean, drifting among the waves with no land in sight. Then just as suddenly she had been cast adrift, she found land. The hole was filled the moment it had been created. As she gripped Nate’s vault suit and begged him to open his eyes, Nora found herself battling with the horrifying realization that she had another soulmate; that some stranger had taken Nate's place.

[ 1 ] <- [ 11 ] [ 12 ] [ 13 ] [ 14 ] [ 15 ] - [ 17 ]

Back in college, Nora’s schedule was a precariously delicate thing. Work, school, and study time were somehow crammed together in a somewhat cohesive pattern that she tracked with a calendar that was pinned on the door to her apartment. Some days she worked a morning shift at a nearby diner, until she had to rush to a class. Other days she had a noon shift, and she almost always worked weekends. Coffee had been her best friend back in those days. It helped her power through her classes and her studying, and it helped her through her workday. There was very little time for a social life outside of study groups, and there was even less time she could give her body the exercise that it needed. With her days so thoroughly jam packed, and with her mornings already kicking off at the crack of dawn, Nora had taken to walking or running in the middle of the night.

There had been more than one occasion where she had to stop and talk to the cops due to reports of a suspicious person running around in the middle of the night. The police officers in question got to know Nora pretty well, and they were able to find her on her typical exercise route. One of the officers insisted that she packed a can of pepper spray, and when she didn’t get her own he gave one to her. It was surprising how much safer she felt with the little aerosol can tucked into her pocket. Nora had never once been accosted by any sort of assailant on her runs, but it was nice knowing she would be prepared if she was.

These days, with the world in complete disrepair, Nora could be armed to the teeth and she would still be completely on edge. After recovering from her bout of radiation sickness, and cleaning the sick from her vault suit, she had escorted Mama Murphy back to Sanctuary and then she lingered there for a bit. She let Codsworth be the mother hen that he was; he worried over her, and fed her, before talking her ear off for nearly an entire hour about the settlers that had taken residence in their neighborhood.

Eventually, Nora and her faithful canine companion made their way out of Sanctuary. Instead of going to the Truck Stop, Nora found herself wandering straight past her home away from home. She made her way through Concord. Despite having been passed out sick in the middle of the street for a good chunk of the morning with no trouble at all, she kept her pistol loaded and in her hand. Unlike the comfort the pepper spray bought her so many years ago, the pistol didn’t bring her any sense of security. She continued to wander, without any particular destination in mind, just a little desperate to clear her head.

Nora knew that if she had any hope to find Shaun, she needed to leave the comforts of home and start looking. Wandering around alone didn’t seem like an optimal option, but she had very quickly learned that help came with a price. Preston had offered to help, but in exchange he wanted Nora to accept the title of Minuteman General. Nora could barely take care of herself in post-apocalyptic America, she wasn’t going to be responsible for settlements of other people. Codsworth was willing to tag along, but she didn’t know what she would do if she lost him. John had begged to help her on more than one occasion. It was just that morning when he demanded where she was so he could come save her - no strings attached.

But there was apparently way more to John than she had expected.

Mama Murphy said he was a killer, but also a savior.

The concept made Nora uncomfortable, but at the same time… had Nate been any different? Nate had been a military man, trained to fight and kill to keep his country and his people safe. And he had killed people – he had openly admitted it. As far as Nora knew, Nate had never tortured a man for information, though. That brief glimpse the night before, watching as the knife slowly slipped into the skin of the sobbing man, had chilled Nora to the bone. She was reminded yet again, that this was a different place. It might as well be a different world. Nora hadn’t witnessed any sort of standardized law. People were roaming about with guns and makeshift weapons. They were attacking one another for money, and gear.

Nora could recall more than one philosopher that would be preening with delight at the current state of things. There was one scholar in particular who argued that the natural condition of mankind was, essentially, a constant state of war. Not war as she had known it, but a war that pinned each and every single person against each other; where it was a man’s natural right to do everything in his power to survive. There was another scholar, who would chalk it all up to the standard Social Darwinism: Only the strong survive.

Both theories seemed applicable; constant war, survival of the fittest.

Even as she tried to justify it, Nora hated it. She hated it so much. She missed feeling safe. She missed being able to trust her neighbors not to come into her house and kill her in the middle of the night because they wanted something of hers.

“You know,” she said to Dog (Mama had disclosed that the mutt’s name was actually DogMeat, but that seemed strangely cruel). “This place was beautiful once.” She looked up at the sky, the color didn’t seem quite right. It was still blue, but it wasn’t quite sky blue. It was paler, maybe, lacking its luster. It hurt, realizing that even the sky looked different from what it had been. Weather patterns were even off, apparently toting vivid green and radioactive lightning. “There used to be so much more color. Not that it matters to you…” She glanced at her companion, and he wasn’t really paying attention to her. His tongue was lolling out to the side, and the mutt looked pleased as punch. Nora slung her pack from one of her shoulders so she could root through the contents on the go. She pulled out a bottle of water, and took a gulp. She knelt down beside the dog, cupping her hand and pouring some of the water into her palm. The dog lapped at the offered water lazily.

They kept walking, only slowing when Nora caught sight of a familiar structure in the distance. A small smile tugged at her features as she took in what was left of the Starlight Drive-In. The massive screen was still in place, towering above everything else in the immediate vicinity. This had been one of Nate’s favorite places. He was a big horror movie buff, and once a month they would attend the horror movie double-feature. It was a monthly tradition that was only disrupted when Shaun was born. With a little bit of a pep in her step, Nora led the way towards the drive-in.

The vehicles at the drive-in were unexpected, and terribly haunting. Nora knew the time when the bombs dropped, knew that it was still early morning, and knew that there was no reason for there to be so many cars to be so pristinely aligned, facing the screen as if they were at the theater. It wasn’t uncommon for cars to be abandoned overnight, but the whole of the configuration seemed surreal, and deliberate. Despite Nora’s morbid thoughts, there was a sliver of comfort in the familiarity it brought. She picked up her pace, and if she was feeling a bit more like herself she would probably be running through the lot towards the concession stand but her uplifted stride fell short when Dog released a vicious snarl.

Nora came to a complete stop, eyes turning to look at the animal. His hackles were raised, his teeth bared. His eyes were locked on the ground, and he was waiting. Nora grimaced. Throwing caution to the wind, Nora made a run towards one of the closer vehicles. She wanted off of the ground, having once fallen victim the burrowing creature’s wrath once before.

The encounter didn’t last long. With Dog’s pray drive, and his uncanny ability to pinpoint the nasty (massive) mole rats before they came shooting from the ground, Nora was able to take aim and ready herself to shoot at the first sign movement. With John’s guidance, Nora had become rather proficient with her pistol. He had coached her to the smallest things, her stance, the way she held the gun, the way she pulled the trigger. Without John’s help, Nora would have been dead a long time ago. The thought made her uneasy and guilty at the same time.

Hopping down from the vehicle, Nora knelt down to praise her canine companion. With blood coating his muzzle, the dog trotted over proudly, tail wagging. “You’re such a good boy,” she cooed, scratching at that spot on his neck that got his leg kicking. “Very good boy.” Once left alone to his own devices, the dog returned to one of his kills and started eating. Nora left him to it, deciding that she would feast on whatever snack cakes Codsworth had stored in her pack before she left. Nora wandered about the drive-in. She practically shrieked when she neared the pit that marred the once pristine lot. Her Geiger counter started clicking as she neared its vicinity. She turned tail and ran until the clicking stopped.

She eyeballed the pit as if it had been there to single her out, personally.

In the midst of all of the vehicles, there was a single pickup truck, and Nora hadn’t felt so giddy in days. The tailgate was facing the screen. It conjured a memory of relaxing in the bed of Nate’s truck. Filled with pillows and blankets, and crappy theater pizza as they hunkered down to watch their movies. She didn’t hesitate to drop the tailgate and clamber into the bed of the truck. It was a little rusty, but it was clean for the most part. She unshouldered her pack, and took a quick swig of water. A cursory glance around showed that she was still very much alone. She would take a look at the cars, see what sorta junk she could pull from the wreckage. If she brought enough back, maybe Sturges would give her the time of day and help her figure out the whole water purifier thing.

Some of the things in the vehicle were already missing. She was wildly surprised to find that an entire engine had been plucked from one of the cars already. There were still things that could be of use; fan belts, filters, alternators. The ratchet came in handy, and the noise was methodic to a point where it was nearly soothing. With the music playing from her Pip-Boy, it was real easy to get immersed in the work. That was, until a gentle voice came drifting across her consciousness. The sound made her jump, the cranking ratchet’s rhythmic clicking faltered as the bit was pulled from the bolt she was working on.

”Didn’t really peg ya t’be such a gear head…”

Nora lurched for her Pip-Boy, resting under the hood on some of the vehicle’s innards so it wouldn’t get in the way. It was sorta nice to not have the weight clasped to her wrist. She turned the dial, turning the music down until it was barely audible. She practically gulped as she attempted to gather her bearings. This was the moment she had been waiting on all day. With all of the time she had to think this over, she still wasn’t entirely positive about what she was going to say to him.

“It’s, um…” her voice was airy with nervousness, and she cleared her throat to gather herself. “It’s actually kind of fun.”

”Looks messy, t’me…”

She glanced at her hands, and they were once again coated in dirt and oil. It was under her nails, coating her cuticles. Her palms dragged over the thighs of her vault suit as she forced a slight chuckle, “Yeah, kind of.”

There was a silence that stretched between them, and Nora wondered if he had left. Her hand shifted back to the Pip-Boy to turn the music back up.

”You… really had me worried this morning, y’know.”

Nora nibbled the inside of her lip, picking up the pieces of machine that she had managed to salvage from the vehicle and walked them back towards her truck. “I had myself really worried this morning.”

”How’d you end up gettin’ sick?”

“I learned about radiation storms last night,” she replied weakly. She had learned a lot of things last night.

”Fuck. I’m sorry, sweets. I shoulda said something.” The regret in his voice sounded so deeply genuine, as if he had conjured the radstorm himself and sent it to ravish the Commonwealth.

Nora shrugged her shoulders, “I mean, why would you bother mentioning something as common as the weather? It was no one’s fault but mine.”

“Except I scared you away before you could ask. And then I didn’t bother checking in.” His voice was firm, and he was unapologetic. It was a matter-of-fact statement, and it left very little room to skirt around the topic. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. She wouldn’t be ready in a million years.

She visibly grimaced. “You…” Why did she suddenly feel as if she were on the brink of tears? Her voice cracked as she said, “You seemed busy.”

”Look,” he said slowly, sounding tired. ”I never said that I was a good guy, sweets. I’m not… I’m never going to be your fuckin’ Nate, alright? I–”

Had he been here in person, Nora would have rounded on John with the speed and force of a bullet. The urge to cry was long gone. She slammed her fists onto the tailgate of the truck and snapped, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare bring him in to this!”

Had she not been so infuriated at the mere mention of her deceased husband, Nora would have flinched at her own usage of the F-word. She could practically taste that bar of soap. John was silent, but he was still there. She could feel it.

“You know nothing about Nate. He was everything to me, and–”

”And he was fucking perfect. I fucking get it! But he’s dead, and you’re stuck with me—“

Even as Nora’s voice rose, even as she yelled over John, she couldn’t find the capabilities to control her anger. As she tried to yell over John, John tried to yell over her, and then they were yelling at each other.

She was so caught up in the argument that she didn’t notice the arriving audience.

Tag List: @takottai / @a-little-pebbl

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walker-extended-universe · 5 months ago

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Welcome Home

Relationship(s): August Walker & Stella Walker, August Walker & Cordell Walker, August Walker & Liam Walker, August Walker & Sadie Yoo, August Walker/Sadie Yoo

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Military, Post-Military, Post-Canon, Insecurity, Disability, Physical Disability, Amputation, Recovery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: August came back from his time in the military, but he's not the man he once was. Can his family help him get back to his old self or is he too far gone?

Written for @augustofwhump Day 11: Scars, Insecurity

A/N: I know August didn't go to the military after season 4 but I already had AUs cooked up and I'm not letting them go now

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

----------

August had thought about the day he came home from the military for good a lot. He’d imagined himself leaving after a few years and transitioning into a more sedate lifestyle, maybe with Sadie by his side. He’d imagined himself going full career military and passing on a legacy of government benefits when he eventually bit the bullet. He’d imagined himself getting a hero’s funeral, remembered in pictures and funny stories until no one was around to tell them anymore.

In all his imaginings and daydreams, he’d never pictured this.

“Your recovery is coming along very well,” his assigned physical therapist told him. “Have you given any more thought to if you would prefer a prosthetic or crutches?”

“Crutches.” He’d made his choice soon after the amputation surgery. He’d seen the options and recovery schedule for a prosthetic. It was pricey, cumbersome, and something that would probably only lead to confusion and disappointment when he was wearing long pants. Crutches were cheaper and a lot more upfront about his baggage.

Crutches also meant he’d be going home sooner, but you can’t always get everything you want.

“Are you sure? We can-”

“I’m sure."

She blinked at him and nodded. “Alright. You’ll have to learn how to use them before we can release you. I’d also like to talk to your family about accommodations you might need at home. Is there a number I could call or….?”

August sighed. “My sister will be here in two hours. You can talk to her about all that.”

“Okay, we’ll do that then. Let’s just finish up your exercises and then I’ll come back to talk with your sister. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“No. Let’s just get this over with.”

August could do the whole exercise routine by himself at this point, but it was definitely easier with someone else helping him. Having someone to help him balance made it easier for him to keep his eyes away from the scar he was left with. The phantom pains were bad enough; the ugly stump was just another unfortunate reminder.

He really just wanted to get his crutches and get back to moving on his own again, but he knew that would be a journey. A journey he wasn’t really looking forward to.

Especially not a journey he wanted to go on with his family.

He was glad Stella had taken the mantle of dealing with all his hospital stuff. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it if the rest of the family was constantly hovering around him during this. He didn’t need their sugarcoated praise or unnecessary optimism. He didn’t need Gramp’s war stories or Dad’s constant assurances that this wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t need Mawline’s smothering or Liam’s assembly line of therapists to “heal his mental state”.

He just wanted to get on with the rest of his pathetic life.

—------------------

The road had been cleared before they went on it. Or, at least, they thought it was. Not that it was August’s job to worry about that. It was their Sergeant's job, or at least the drivers. He just got on the truck he was told to get on and zoned out during the drive to prevent himself from thinking too hard about their mission. He much preferred scouting to sniping, but he didn’t get to make those decisions.

He hated trips like this, but it’s what he signed up for. Literally.

Maybe he should’ve listened a little closer to his grandfather’s war stories before he committed to this. A little late to complain about it now, so he didn’t. Not to his fellow soldiers, not in his letters home, not even when he was drunk on leave. Bottling things up was the Walker Way and after a few years at it, August was a professional.

The explosion came from right under his seat. There was another one as the driver tried to regain control of the vehicle.

And then the ambush came.

August didn’t remember much after the first gunshot. He just remembered the smell of blood and the sound of someone screaming.

Later, his sergeant would commend him for his “bravery in the face of adversity”. If August hadn’t just heard that the infections in his leg wounds were too severe for the field hospital to handle and amputation was the best route, he probably would’ve punched the man.

August got a medal for his bravery. He got to shake the governor’s hand and his face was plastered on the front page of The Austin Chronicle and The Daily Texan.

The other 19 men in the truck with him died. They got no awards and their families got meager compensation. He spoke with one of the wives, tried to tell her he was sorry. She just smiled and patted his remaining leg and told him to say “hi” to his mother for her.

The more he practiced “walking”, the closer he got to going home, the more he dreaded it. He didn't want the welcome home party or the accolades of a “successful” military career. He just wanted to move on, forget how he ended up here.

But that would never happen. He could never be that lucky.

—-------------------

“So I did tell them you didn’t want a big party but-”

August groaned. “Just tell me how many people are going to be there.”

Stella sighed. “I managed to talk them down to Dad’s work friends. And nobody got plus ones. Oh, and Sadie will be there.”

Sadie. He hadn’t seen her since last Christmas. Knowing the first time she would see him again was like this made his stomach twist into knots.

Last time he’d seen her, they kissed under the mistletoe. It had gotten them laughs, but it made him want more.

One more tour, he’d told himself back then. Just one more and then he’d be good enough. His family would be proud of him, he could get great benefits on top of whatever job he picked up, and maybe he could finally ask her on a date. She might even say “yes”.

Fat chance of that happening now.

“I already told everyone you’ll probably be tired and you don’t need to be overwhelmed right now so the extra guests probably won’t stay for more than an hour. If you need me to, I can be the bad guy and kick everyone out early,” Stella promised.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “But I can deal. If I let them get all their hovering out of the way now, maybe they’ll chill for a bit.”

Stella snorted. “Yeah, right. Dad’s been excited to show you all the renovations they made for you and Liam really wants your opinions on his new ‘inclusive’ therapy plans for the rescue. And I’ve lost track of how many times Mawline’s asked me if I was absolutely sure you don’t have any new dietary restrictions.”

August groaned and slid down in his seat. “And they wonder why I wanted to stay at the hospital by myself….”

“You know it’s because they care about you. I know it’s clumsy and overbearing but they’re trying.”

“I know that but…. I just wish they wouldn’t make a big dal out of it.”

Stella gave him a side eye. “Auggie, you lost a leg. That’s kind of a big deal. I know you don’t want a fuss but it’s an adjustment for everyone. Just- I talk to them but you may just have to ride this out. They’ll calm down after a couple months and then you can go back to pretending this isn’t a big deal, okay?”

He sighed. She was right, to an extent. He’d had a lot longer to adjust to his new situation than his family did. And they did care, even if he didn’t appreciate the way they showed it.

“I can put up with the party for an hour and I’ll try not to rush Dad through his tour but can you ask Liam to hold off on the therapy stuff for a bit. I’m just- not ready to think about that.”

She nodded, smiling. “I can do that.”

Done with the conversation, August turned on the radio and closed his eyes, letting the music carry him away from reality for a bit. He would take any break he could get.

#augustofwhump #augustofwhump2024 #walker #walker fic #walker fanfic #au #tw disability #tw amputation #my writing #my fic

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hymouse · 9 months ago

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Obey Me! Set to Silent Mode

Summary: You have no way to charge your DDD in your very human home. Pairing: None, if you squint it could be read as GN!MC x Mammon Word count: 851 Warnings: angsty goodness, mentioned drinking, mentioned death, spoilers for chapter 16 and i guess chapter 20 A/N: A very short little dabble. I know canon says everyone keeps messaging and calling after MC returns home for the first time, but I like the idea that MC was really cut off from Devildom and has to work their way through it.

Mammon was promising some terribly stupid business idea for your return when your DDD died. Now it sits on your bedside table, right next to your actual phone. You know, the normal one that used normal, human electricity to connect you to all the people you know and some of the ones you loved. Earthly little pings probed you upon your return- rebirth- some concerned, some angry, but all keen on untangling the story of how you faked your death. Oh, it was like I’ve died and was reborn again, you’d joke over brunch. Your mimosa would sparkle against your lips, the tart sweetness of the orange juice covering the hint of bitterness; bottomless, bottoms up.

Sometimes, in the small hours of the morning, you imagine a devilish glow casting strange shadows across your bedroom wall. They’d dance in the pre-dawn light tempting you with wastefulness, but flee with your dreams as your mind finds your body.

Once you accidentally grabbed it instead of your functional, operational, and relevant human device. You caused something of a minor traffic jam standing in the middle of a busy intersection staring at it. Ruri-chan stares out with a sort of delusional optimism from the confines of her clear acrylic prison while the cross-walk sign blink threateningly. Behind her a Devildom lotto ticket and a coupon for Madam Scream’s Macaroons compete — unsuccessfully— for your attention.

The driver of the gray pickup truck lays on his horn and you skitter to the sidewalk. After a moment you realize you’ve gone the wrong way.

You were late to the psychic’s, but the old woman didn’t seem to mind. The bangles on her wrist jangled as she sits you at her little table in the back room where the sights and sounds of the outside world are caught between layers of velvet and dried eucalyptus. You supposed, in retrospect, that that should’ve been your first warning. No witch worth their cauldron would be caught dead with eucalyptus. She peers at your palm, then your tea leaves, them her cards with gentle scrutiny before surmising you had experienced a great loss. It was enough to knock some tears out of you, but the real crying would happen later, at home, relieved of some $30, burdened by the ever-growing guilt of having left Mammon on read.

Texting 666 on your regular, dinky, human phone did not work. You resisted the urge to throw it against a wall.

Slowly you found psychic visits woven their way into the fabric of your life until every soothsayer and fortune teller became something more than strangers but less than friends. Through the psychics you found the mystics; through the mystics you found witches; through the witches you found despair. A witch’s jealousy to be an ugly thing. They danced around you, play-tracing sigils into your skin and flicking harmless spats of magic into your face. Pact-marked and pigeoned-holed they called you, as useless as you had been before the exchange program. Back home you stared into the mirror, tracing the witch’s sigils on your skin then onto paper. They made for poor art and poorer signs of power laying as dormant as the pact marks scattered across your body.

One day, drowning in a nap-gone-too-long, you imagine Mammon calling for you outside your window; it would be the last time you cried.

Life was less a ride than it was a chariot, dragging you across a bloodied arena for the entertainment of some higher power. Your first order of business was to move your Harrison Porter charm to your keys; looking at it made you feel a little like Alice in Wonderland. Rent was due, so a job was found; then a better one. You counted the bills, paid your debts. You set aside spared bills and change in a little yellow treasure box on your dresser that sat beside a growing collection of nail polish and skincare that never failed to make you feel —dare you say it— pretty. You swam and cursed your way through summer, fostered a sizable clan of cats in the fall, then decided to become a recluse in the winter, watching winter’s stars drape across the sky from the comfort of your home.

The promise of a new life in a new city lured you out from your cave. You went to RAD with so very little, so you decide to part with all but a suitcase of the essentials, then opted for a backpack. The edges of the little yellow treasure chest pressed into your lower back as you hiked your way across the city to a hilly park with a view. Winter still clung to this part of the world; the sparkling of snow was nearly indistinguishable from the steel and glass of skyscrapers; a sky so clear that the horizon retreated into a white nothingness. You soaked in the view, then turned.

At the edge of the outlook a familiar shock of white hair caught your eye. He waves. You could feel the edge of the acrylic Harrison Porter charm, smooth after months of worry.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me angst #obey me drabble #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic

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casualsnickers · 6 months ago

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Month of Emmet Quick Write #15

Prompt #15: Coffee Break/ Free Space

It's never fun being lost in a strange region, especially when you get stranded due to an unforeseeable delay in transportation. Annoyed by his host region's perturbing lack of functioning public transportation and unnerving emptiness, Emmet lets his curiosity get the better of him the moment he finds out that a "train" exists.

(Heavy emphasis on the 'free space' part of the prompt. If you know what this fic references, kudos.)

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Emmet waited patiently for his order to arrive, tapping his shoes against the battered linoleum as he scanned the counter for a sign of his drink. Visiting a foreign region was always fun but mostly when he knew the layout of the place. That and when he had somebody with him. He had been away from Unova on a vacation-esque trip with his Uncle Drayden visiting numerous different places for numerous different things. However, their plane had been forced to make an emergency landing after reports of treacherous weather, leaving both Emmet and Drayden stranded in a region hours and hours away from Unova- a region so obscure that Emmet couldn’t even recall the name of the place- just that it bordered Orre to the west.

Emmet glanced out the window of the small coffee place he stood in. Both him and his uncle wouldn’t be able to leave the region for another two days, being forced to book a hotel room in the meanwhile. That wasn’t what annoyed Emmet. He had more than enough money to pay for emergency food and lodging. No. What annoyed him was that the particular city he was stuck in had next to nothing within it.

Emmet had lived almost all of his life in Unova which was packed with busy cities which had unfaltering connections with closeby regions. There was always something to do. Someplace to be. Unova had ferries and trams and trains to the point where cars were obsolete, used only in cases of emergency vehicles like ambulances or fire trucks. Cities were interconnected. Routes had waystations. There was always somebody within a mile radius. There was always somebody nearby. And that was definitely not the case in his host region.

The town where his plane had landed- a forested valley town in the middle of nowhere called Mahonia- featured next to nothing. Open woods were the norm. Barely paved roads that lead only to private properties. Dark roads with no street lamps. Late buses that were almost always crammed with passengers with less than optimal hygienic standards. No trams. No taxis. And to Emmet’s absolute confusion, no trains. At least, none that he knew of.

“Order for Emmet! Medium hot chocolate!”

Emmet nodded, fixing a smile onto his face. “That is me. I am Emmet.” He graciously thanked the barista before pausing. Due diligence. “Excuse me, ma’am. A question for you if you have the time.”

“Of course,” the barista spoke with her strange accent reminiscent of a Driftveil drawl. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Are there any trains around here?”

Almost immediately, the barista frowned. “No, not really. Well, there’s the TRL but it runs once every other day.” The lady turned around, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Comes through Mahonia sometime during the night, but it’s a one-way ticket. You’d only have the option of rolling all the way down to Ringtail in the south. If you ride it all the way around, it would take you up to Righeap first- all the way in the east- and the TRL would get you back to Helesia all the way in the north. I don’t think the train travels through Agoldfair.”

“Where?”

“Agoldfair.” The barista shot him a look. “You’re not from here, are you? Lemme guess. You’re from another region?”

Emmet jokingly rolled his eyes, knowing well that the clothes he’d been wearing on the plane- a gimmicky t-shirt and sweatpants- stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the people in the cafe who wore thick sweaters and scarves. “Yes. How could you tell?”

The barista only smiled politely at him. “Public transit pretty much doesn’t exist here. Most people just use cars or ride pokémon. You’d have to be from another region to even think about having standard access to luxuries like easy-access trains.”

Emmet hummed. “That is… very unfortunate. I am sorry to hear that.There are plenty of trains in Unova. And shuttle services. And trams.”

“Lucky you.”

Emmet’s chat with the barista had gotten him two things: a hot drink for the chilly night weather and the smallest of hints toward maybe doing some sightseeing. It would be the only time for him to lurk around the city; Drayden had gotten food poisoning from something he had eaten before leaving Unova.

The TRL- better known as the Transregional Line- was a single train that ran once every three days from the northernmost point in the region to the southernmost point. And given how large and mountainous Emmet’s host region was, the TRL took a total of three whole days just to make one trip. He quickly found out when the next departing time would be, his eyes widening.

“Oh. The next train departs in an hour. Convenient.” Emmet checked for where the nearest station was, frowning. “The station is… in the middle of nowhere. At the edge of town. Grrreat. And there are no taxis. Eeeeven better.” At his side, Emmet’s Archeops had appeared, playfully flapping their wings as they smushed their face into Emmet’s shirt. “Archie, you cannot lift me that far. You’re better at running, not flying.”

“Rrr.” Archeops looped one circle around Emmet before flying up to his shoulders and working their talons underneath Emmet’s arms, furiously flapping their wings to try and lift him up.

“You’re determined to escort me to my destination. Very well. Let us proceed then. But! Do not drop me.”

“Rrrarr.”

By the time Emmet had arrived at the station, the treacherous night chill had progressed into a storm, sleet raining from the sky as Emmet’s Archeops flew him in closer to the barren platform before retreating into their pokéball with an exhausted whimper. And barren the platform was if Emmet could even call it that.

It was a desolate slab of concrete with no protection from the weather in the slightest. Crude metal benches were bolted into the concrete, a few of the handle bars rusted. And they were odd benches with strange bars dividing the sitting space into thirds. There was no clock. No attendee station. The only signage provided was one solid concrete wall in the middle of the platform with an old-looking timesheet barricaded by a cracked panel of glass.

Even the rails were no better. Weeds grew undeterred through both the gaps in the track and through the concrete, tall dandelions wavering in the whistling wind as the storm tore across the platform, throwing up pebbles and soaking everything in water and dust and dirt. The undergrowth attempted to reach onto the tracks, mostly squashed flat, broken and dying on the ballast.

Emmet paused. Somebody else had been there before him.

Multiple paces away from the nearest light was a figure leaning back on a rusted metal bench, a poncho drawn tightly around them. Hands in their pockets, they tapped on their phone, occasionally swiveling to stare northward before returning to whatever they were doing with an unaware jolly whistle. Beside the stranger was a large Nidoking slumbering with their head resting beside their trainer’s feet.

A commuter. Emmet took another careful glance around. It is unsafe to be sitting alone in such a dark place even with a pokémon. Emmet then swallowed. He was never big on starting random conversations- Ingo was usually better at that than him- but he supposed that if there was a commuter- somebody waiting for the TRL for that matter- that Emmet could figure out when it would be coming. And so he took a deep breath and approached, Eelektross appearing and following him albeit at a much slower pace.

“Excuse me?”

No reaction. The stranger didn’t even seem to notice him, crossing one leg over the other as they laughed at something on their phone. But their Nidoking had definitely noticed him. The bulky pokémon spared one weighty glance toward Emmet, its head angled in such a way that the sparse lamp light revealed massive tearing scars in the poison-type’s exoskeleton. A quiet threat. The behemoth sized him up quietly, one large, lazy eye glancing back at Eelektross before the Nidoking faced its trainer again, going back to dozing as if completely unbothered with Emmet standing so close.

Emmet cleared his throat and tried again. “Pardon me?” When he got no reaction from the trainer yet again, Eelektross floated past him, slowly slithering up to the cloaked trainer while flashing the bioluminescent scales on its body. Red, yellow, green. Red, yellow, green. That immediately garnished the trainer’s attention.

The trainer jumped back in their seat, one hand flashing over toward a hidden object- a pocket knife- that Emmet had only caught a glimpse of in the pale light of the platform lamp. The trainer then turned and upon finally seeing Emmet standing nearby, loudly swore, recoiling in their seat. The stranger then eyed him carefully. “You… Do you need help or something, dude?”

“Ah! Yes! My apologies for startling you.” Emmet kept his voice low.

The trainer only waved him away. “No… No, you’re good. I couldn’t hear you- headphones in. My bad. What’s up?”

At least the people here are friendly, Emmet supposed. “Are you… waiting on a train by any chance?”

“Yeah. The TRL.” The trainer pulled up their phone for a moment, flipping tabs before landing on one page that made their phone brighten. “Hmm. It’s been delayed again. Should be rolling in in about ten or so minutes; maybe twenty if this weather keeps up.”

“Is it usually late?”

The trainer snorted, their Nidoking letting out a rumbling hum as if the two had found what Emmet had said to be particularly funny. “Late? Buddy, the trains are always late. That’s a constant here. Why? Don’t tell me you need to be somewhere at a certain time. Ask to rent a flying-type pokémon,” the trainer advised him. “You’d get to wherever you’re going much faster.”

“The trains are always late?” Emmet echoed dumbly, both confused and irritated at just how bad his host region’s public infrastructure was. “ And that’s okay with the people of the region?”

The trainer nodded, easing back onto the bench. “It’s always been this way.” They then gave Emmet a quick up-and-down, their eyebrows raising. “You’re a tourist?”

“I am. Is it the shirt?”

The trainer chuckled. “It’s absolutely the shirt. Nobody wears shirts praising Calinasi. That place is literally a tourist trap. Everything is expensive there for a reason. That shirt probably costed you over a thousand poké, didn’t it?”

“...Perhaps,” Emmet admitted, fiddling with his hands.

“Yup. It’s a dead giveaway. But if you put on a jacket, it becomes ironic. Makes you look like a local. Don’t ask how that works.” The trainer then looked away, wordlessly going back to their phone. “Train should come through in about fifteen minutes or so by the way.”

“You have a schedule?” Emmet asked incredulously. His own Xtransceiver was having quite a few issues getting any signal.

“On my phone, yeah. You don’t have one? You got a ticket at least?”

“I just wanted to see the train.”

“Oooh. You’re into trains? Cool. The TRL is huge. Not a commuter train; something between a freight hauler and an old timey train. Rattles a lot. Not a whole lotta seats or anything either but they do blow the whistle everytime they come into the station.”

“Verrry cool.”

“I know, right?” The trainer then blinked. “Hey man. Are you just gonna sit there and get wet all night? Because you can dry off over here if you’d like. Ollie is keeping us dry using Protect so if you’re waiting, you can wait with us where it’s warm and dry.”

“Oh! Thank you verrry much.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

Emmet took a seat a pace away from the trainer, finally catching sight of the belt of dinged, dusty looking pokéballs attached to the waistline of their coat. Worn. Shiny with fingerprints. The tell tale signs of a pokémon trainer. Emmet practically found himself vibrating in his seat.

He hadn’t been in his host region for long but for hours, he hadn’t managed to find a single trainer. Not a single youngster. Not a veteran trainer to be seen. He had spotted quite a few interesting looking regional pokémon from afar like a beige-colored Arbok with tail rattles, a Kangaskhan with thick fur all along its body, and to Emmet’s delight and intrigue, he had even seen a Sigilyph variant boasting massive feathery wings that glowed in the dark.

“Are you a trainer?” Emmet asked innocently, unable to focus on anything but the prospect of a potential pokémon battle. It would surely pass the time faster. “Your Nidoking looks strong.”

It was a start to a courteous but wary conversation. The stranger shared next to nothing about themself or what pokémon they were carrying but Emmet did manage to catch a few snippets. The stranger was just an off-duty pokémon ranger waiting for the train to take them back home. Emmet shared a few things about himself like his home region, his passion for battling, and his interest in trains.

Within minutes of striking up a chat, the ranger picked up their head, their eyes following something on the horizon. “There it is. And it’s about time too. I think this storm is just getting worse.”

The TRL truly was massive. A hunk of old metal and squealing joints, the rickety old train clattered along the rails, almost sliding into position going well past where the pokémon ranger had been waiting on the bench. Steam poured from the engine in thick clouds, the old-fashioned metal doors being forced open with a raucous squeal as a few train attendants began to move open the doors and let down the stairs.

“Well that was fun. C’mon Ollie. Time to go.” The pokémon ranger recalled their Nidoking and stretched, reaching into their pocket to procure a paper ticket. They then turned to Emmet. “You still don’t have a ticket, do you?”

“Nnnope. I just came to look at the train.”

“Oh.” The ranger then spared another glance at the engine which was still preparing onboarding procedures. “So you’re just gonna… go back to the city with waterlogged clothes?”

“That was admittedly a shortsight on my behalf. I did not know it would start storming.”

“Fair enough. Hey, do you need an escort back to Mahonia? It’s pouring and I’d feel bad if you ended up getting stranded here on the platform. It happened to me once and trust me- you get stuck out here, you’d better hope somebody knows you’re out here.”

“That’s… ominous.”

“It’s the truth. People have gone missing out here. I’d be careful if I were you, especially since you’re a tourist.” The ranger flashed him a peculiar look. “Ride any taxis lately?”

“If I could find one, I would.”

“Don’t. They’ll rob you. Drive you where you don’t need to go and rack up your fare.” At Emmet’s uneasy expression, the pokémon ranger took a careful pace forward. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride back to your hotel or wherever it is you’re staying? It wouldn’t be any trouble at all, dude.”

Emmet glanced at his Archeops’s pokéball, sighting his companion shivering as they hunkered down into a feathery little ball, Archie’s tail feathers quivering. Out of steam. This really is bad luck. But Emmet wouldn’t admit that much. He could find his own way back to the local city-

“The TRL is leaving in approximately five minutes! All aboard!”

The pokémon ranger merely raised an eyebrow at him. “My guy. You’re completely soaked through and I doubt your Eelektross can fly. You sure? Because I know a guy that could fly you back to town real easy. Free of charge, obviously.”

Emmet carefully weighed his decision. The ranger standing before him didn’t seem at that threatening, patiently waiting for him to answer as they picked at their nails. At his side, Eelektross gurgled, touching their mouth to the rim of their pokéball before disappearing inside of it, seemingly fed up with the storm as well.

“...I might take you up on that offer.”

“That’s what I thought.” The ranger reached for their belt, opening up their poncho to flash Emmet what looked to be a shiny badge. Emmet blinked, recognizing the internationally-recognized badge denoting certified pokémon rangers. The ranger plucked a dusk ball from their belt and rolled it around in their palm. “Hey, Wavebird. Think you can give this guy a lift back to Mahonia?”

From the trainer’s side appeared a tall and imposing Noivern, the pokémon’s wings boasting criss-crossing scars. It took one look at Emmet and then nodded.

”Okay. Wavebird will get you back to town,” the trainer nonchalantly stated. “That’s that then.”

“But you will be departing from this station shortly,” Emmet murmured. “What about your co-conductor? I do not wish to decouple them from you due to a mistake on my part.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Wavebird knows the train route inside and out. He’ll catch up with me later whenever he feels like it. He was just gonna cruise outside the train anyways. Might as well get some exercise in with you.”

“I’m not that heavy,” Emmet grunted.

“Never said you were,” the ranger responded cooly. “Best of luck with your trip. Don’t get robbed!”

The train attendants once again called for any passengers to board and before Emmet could say a goodbye, he sighted the pokémon ranger quickly hopping onto the stairs at the back of the train, moving past an attendant and out of sight, leaving Emmet to stand under the wide wingspan of their Noivern, sleet cascading around them.

#pokemon #pkmn #pokémon #submas #monthofemmet #monthofemmet2024 #subway boss kudari #subway master kudari #subway master emmet #subway boss emmet

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