#rusty tractor

[eltristan]

[daisychainsandbowties]

I was at the aquarium today and all I could think was: "I bet Casper would enjoy this."

Anyway, I petted a stingray extra special soft for you.

i am literally crying in the club (my bedroom) right now 🥹🥹 i’m seriously considering saving up go on a trip where i visit as many aquariums as possible! 🥰 tragically i’ve only been to two in my life and one was basically a shed on a tiny island that doubled as a museum for farming implements 🥺😭

[omgcarsandengines]

Old Rusty FARM TRACTORS Cold Start Idling and Sound

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

some things are worth it

a/n: so, because i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this guy, especially in this au (literally had multiple dreams about him this past week) i rewatched the longest ride for the yeehaw vibes and this fantasy popped into my head.

summary: “oh, yes you do,” you tilted your head, “you flirt with me all the time, I know you do, I’m not some sheltered little virgin, I know what it looks like when someone likes me!” you felt the truck roll to a stop as you spoke. 

warnings: farmhand!tyler owens x farmer’s daughter!reader, smut, farmer au, bull rider!tyler, takes place before the previous fic in this au, secret relationship, bull riding (except i'm a suropean who has no idea what she's talking about, so apologies for the errors), love confession, secret relationship, kissing, clothed sex, car sex, size kink, manhandling, dry humping, dirty talk, handjob, fingering, thighjob, pussyjob, just the tip, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, why do i keep writing for this dude in the middle of the night?

word count: 4238

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Hey,” Tyler cast you a glance as you came bouncing towards where he still worked, tinkering with the tractor that had quit halfway down one of the farm’s golden fields. 

“Hello,” you blinked down at him. A rusty toolbox was planted in the wheat by his kneeling form as he fiddled away at the machinery.

“You need help with something?” he kept on twisting a bolt. 

“Oh, no,” a shy giggle bubbled out of you, “my mom just sent me down here to invite you to stay for dinner tonight. She made a pie for dessert and everything, or well, we did, I helped… it’s rhubarb, if that can help sway you.”

“Rhubarb, eh?” he puffed out a short chuckle. 

“Yeah…”

Briefly glancing back over his shoulder at you and the way your flowy dress caught on the wind, he uttered, “I’d love to, Y/n, but–, uhm… I can’t tonight.”

“Right,” you exhaled, a nod swiftly accompanying your words, “you already have plans, of course…”

“Tell your mamma I’m sorry,” he tried to soften the blow, “next time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you breathed, and as he returned his attention back to the machine, surely assuming that you’d bid him adieu and saunter back towards the main house, you instead shifted to lean against the tractor, “so… what are you doing tonight?”

Briefly glancing up at you, a soft smirk appeared on his lips as he purred, “you’re awfully nosy.” 

“Just tell me what your plans are,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Bull riding,” he informed you, “I ride on occasion, tonight being one of those times.”

Sucking in a breath, you uttered, “of course you do…”

Halting his tinkering with a chuckle, he pressed, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, you just got adrenalin junky written all over you, so it checks out,” you gestured towards him and he let out a small laugh, retroactively confirming your accusation. As he shifted to look for a different tool, you opened your mouth once more and asked, “can I come?”

“Come what?” his concentrated gaze didn’t meet yours. 

“See you ride.”

Tyler’s eyes then snapped up to find yours, “you wanna come see me ride?” hesitation suddenly washed over his usually confident features, “uhm… I’m not sure your daddy would like that.”

“What? Me being around a bunch of rowdy and probably drunk strangers or going somewhere to see you?”

A warm chuckle then rumbled in his chest as a gentle shake found his head, “you’re trouble…”

“Is that a no?” you tilted your head in hope. 

“No…” he slowly exhaled and met your eye once more, “no it is not.”

You cheered for him at first when his name was announced and you caught a glimpse of him behind the fence, he even found your eyes in the crowd a moment as you clapped in anticipation. But then when it actually began, you stopped breathing entirely. It didn’t matter that he only had to stay on the beast for a few seconds, your heart still wouldn’t start beating again even after his boots were back on the ground and a proud grin stretched his lips. The petrified expression plastered on your features didn’t fade even when he found you afterwards and offered you a ride back home.

“You okay?” his deep timbre ripped you out of your stormy thoughts. 

Twisting your neck to blink over at him behind the wheel of his truck, you hummed, “huh?”

“You’re not usually this quiet,” he pointed out. 

“Oh… I’m just tired, I guess…” you lied, averting your gaze before you then heard yourself utter, “hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he held his eyes on the road. 

“How is it that you haven’t been hurt yet doing all of that?”

“Oh no, I have,” a soft chuckle bubbled out of the daredevil, “just not hard enough to stop me from getting back up.” 

A murmur then escaped your lips, just beneath your breath, “either that or you’re just too determined for your own good…”

“Maybe,” he cast you a glance and smirked slightly at the embarrassment that washed over your features at the realisation that he’d heard you, “but then again, determination isn’t always a bad quality to have.”

“It is if it could get you killed.” 

“Oh, how unromantic of you,” he puffed, “I could think of a handful of ways dying would be worth whatever goal you were going for,” his eyes momentarily flickered back to you in the passenger seat beside him. 

Holding his gaze a second before he redirected it back upon the dark road, you felt goosebumps tingle your flesh. 

“Hey Tyler?” you breathed, unsure if you were able to stop the words about to flow out your mouth. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever actually gonna do anything?” your vulnerable question was barely audible. 

Not yet catching onto your subtext, he inquired, “about what?” 

Staring over at him, you uttered, “me.”

His eyes immediately fluttered back to find yours, gazing back at you a second before it faltered, “I–… I don’t know what you mean...”

“Oh, yes you do,” you tilted your head, “you flirt with me all the time, I know you do, I’m not some sheltered little virgin, I know what it looks like when someone likes me!” you felt the truck roll to a stop as you spoke. 

His firm grip stayed on the wheel long after the car had halted.

“Y/n, I–…” he tried, though gave up in a soft sigh. 

As he refused to meet your stare, you felt your stomach begin to flip.

“Oh…” you then breathed, blinking down at your hands as they fiddled with the fabric of the sundress that you wore, “unless I apparently don’t, I–… you know what? Forget it, I’m sorry,” your eyes squeezed shut at the mortification, “let’s just go back to the farm and pretend I didn’t say anything…”

Though his grip didn’t shift away from the wheel, didn’t drift down to twist the key and restart the engine. Instead, to your surprise, you saw him in your periphery twist towards you before you felt his hands come up to cup the sides of your face and pluck it out of hiding. 

Pulling you towards him, he then pressed his lips to your own, rendering you reeling to claw your way out of the stunned pit his bold actions had cast you into. 

As one of your palms slowly floated up to rest against the back of one of his, a soft sigh flowed from your form as you melted into his warmth. 

However, before you sank in and lost yourself completely, you felt him withdraw, though still remained close, letting his nose ghost against your own as he exhaled, “this is a really bad idea… we shouldn’t… I can’t afford to lose my job.” 

“Why would you think you’d lose it?” your fingers curled around the back of his hand in a plea to keep his touch glued to your heated cheek. 

“Have you met your father?” he scoffed softly, “I should be grateful if he only fires me and doesn’t outright kill me.” 

“He wouldn’t do that.” 

“You sure about that?” Tyler half-joked before slowly retracting even further. 

Blinking back at him, your lips still tingled from his kiss as you quietly said, “…I thought you were the one who just insisted that some things are worth dying for… I guess you just have to decide whether or not I could be worth that kind of risk…” 

A gentle chuckle then bubbled out of him as he gazed back at you in amazement, “you sound like a fair maiden 500 years ago,” twisting his fingers and tangling them in your own.  

Puffing out a laugh of your own, you defended, “well you started it!” before you felt one of his palms slide to the nape of your neck and tug you back in for another kiss. His lips felt like fire, though the slow smouldering kind that licked you up and ignited your entire soul, “if you don’t think it’s worth it,” you breathlessly uttered against his kiss, “then you should probably stop kissing me like that…” 

As a gentle smirk tugged at his mouth, he answered you not in the form of words, but instead drifted his hands down your frame and scooped you closer, plucking you up and lifting you into his lap, wasting no time at all to claim your lips again.

It didn’t take long after you settled above him, the wheel of the truck poking the lower part of your spine, that the slow peck evolved into something more, something else. Something that had muffled whines crawling up from the depth of your lungs and vibrating against his tongue as yours desperately danced against his own. Something that had you rolling your hips and grinding down against the hardness poking your panties so perfectly beneath the billowy fabric of your dress, the material of which had begun to ride up as Tyler’s wild touch began to wander over the curves of your frame. 

Panting into his mouth, your head started to lull slightly as you rocked down against him, the sensation being nearly too much to stand in the way it was both overwhelming yet also not at all enough. Nevertheless, if he gave you the chance, you’d surely be able to cum just like this if he let you, if he told you to desperately rut against him like some animal in heat, then you would, because that was just the effect he seemed to have on you. He was always able to turn your brain off with but a glance and nearly cause you to faint if he ever flashed you a dazzling smile. 

To say you had it bad was the understatement of the century, but evidently, and thankfully, you weren’t alone in the predicament. 

Snaking a hand down in the non-existent space between your frames, you found the bulky buckle of his belt and began to undo it. 

“Please,” you panted, your tone sounding downright pathetic, “I wanna–, can I touch you?”

And before you could fumble to do it, Tyler didn’t hesitate to undo his jeans and seize your hand, stuffing it into his pants and guiding your fingers to engulf his girth, squeezing them lightly around himself for but a moment before his touch then faded and he left you to your own devices.

“Oh, fuck–,” he growled, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “just like that.”

His cock throbbed in your palm as he kissed you once again and let his wide hands raked down to your ass, kneading your softness as he groaned against your lips.

But he didn’t let your zealous touch stretch out for that long before you heard him crack the door directly to his left open. His grip on your bottom locked securely as he got out of the truck, effortlessly carrying you with him as he made his way around towards the back.

His hold on you stayed fast as he flipped open the bed of the truck and plopped you down on the ledge. A soft giggle bubbled out of you, even as your hands came up to cup his jaw and he slotted himself in between your parted thighs. 

“Shit…” he exhaled as his gaze fluttered down to spot the damp spot decorating your underwear, neatly on show as your sundress had ridden up even further. Your legs dangled slightly off the edge as his touch then reached down to trace the mark of desperation, your bottom lip swiftly getting trapped betwixt your teeth as he rubbed you through the soaked cotton, “guess you really do have a thing for me, sweetheart,” his teasing touch traced your core as the sodden fabric clung to you, “I mean, not that I didn’t already have my suspensions…” 

“You knew?”

“You’re not exactly subtle when it comes to these things,” he chuckled before letting his fingers dip into your waistband, “it’s cute,” he smiled as your eyes fluttered when his digits swept through your folds, scooping back up to your puffy pearl as it buzzed beneath his caress, “I always enjoyed all the random little reasons you came up with just to have an excuse to talk to me.”

“Okay, I know they weren’t always that smooth,” an embarrassed heat sparked in your cheeks, “but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it is.”

“Oh, I know,” he stated casually, grinning at the way your eyes suddenly grew, “what? Did you really think I just happened to always have some work in the barn whenever you went for a ride?” one of his long fingers then eased into you, causing your mouth to fall open in a silent gasp. 

“Wait, seriously?”

“And the time I needed your help learning the system in the tool shed?” another one of his digits found its way inside of your cunt, rendering you a panting mess in his grasp as he leisurely pumped his fingers in and out, stretching you till your pussy sang out for him, “I already knew where everything was.”

The reply that was ready on your tongue swiftly fizzled out and became a forgotten relic as his touch then dissipated and instead floated down to where his jeans were already half undone. Tugging it the rest of the way open, he then stuffed his hand inside and freed his cock. Like a moth to a flame, your eyes couldn’t help but stare, yearning as you watched his cock throb in his tight fist. 

“O-oh, fuck…” the curse flowed out your lungs as your gaze stayed glued, nearly drooling as he suddenly hooked his grasp behind one of your legs and yanked you closer, causing you to tumble back onto your forearms as he manoeuvred your core that much closer to him. Hooking his fingers in the material of your panties, he slid them down your legs and, to your amazement, stuffed them into his pocket. As he then began to tap the hefty weight of his length down against your puffy petals, causing glossy strings of your desire to cling onto him and keep you ethereally attached, your eyes snapped back up to find his and the same whimper left your body once again, “oh, f-fuck…”

Trailing the bulbous tip through your wetness, he teasingly nudged the head against your swollen clit fiercely enough to make your whole frame twitch beneath him. 

“God… you feel so good…” he groaned, staring down at how his fat cock slid through and parted your glistening folds.

“Uh, Tyler–,” you begged hazily, your little hole winking every time he denied it any attention, “p-please–”

“What is it, baby?” he cooed smugly, “you want me to fuck you?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded foggily, your gaze flickering back down to watch his teasing. 

“You wanna know what my cock feels like inside your pretty little pussy, huh?” his touch then dented your thighs, pressing both of your legs together, enclosing them around his girth and resting your ankles atop one of his broad shoulders. 

“P-please–”

“Is it all you’ve been thinking about?” the softness of your thighs interlocked around him lend him to snap his hips against yours and freely fuck your folds, the underside of him sliding against the seem of your cunt, “what’s been occupying that brilliant brain of yours?” he smirked and you couldn’t help but rock back against his efforts, “because it’s all I’ve been thinking about… how warm you must feel around me, how tight, how fucking wet, how–, fuck!” he then moaned as the way you’d needily tilted your hips up towards him lend his length to accidentally catch your leaking hole and sink in just the slightest bit till he halted his movements.

A shuttering gasp escaped you as well at the sensation as he’d nearly caused tears to roll down your cheeks from how badly you wanted him. 

As he caught your eye, his grip digging into your legs in order to hold on to his last strand of self-control, you panted up at him just as he was about to pull back out, “don’t stop.”

Staring down at you, absorbing your every reaction, he slid the tip back out, but so painstakingly slow that it caused your eyes to roll in your skull. 

“But what if I did though? What if I just stopped, right here, right now? Just drove you back to the farm and left you a needy little puddle just like this?”

“No, don’t stop! Don’t–, I–…” your walls clung around his girth, “please just keep going, it can just be the tip, I just–, don’t stop…”

When just the memory of him kissed your entrance, he gently sank back in and stuffed the bulbous head inside your cunt, “you sure you just want the tip?” he slowly found a pattern, fucking you with just the essence of him, “you sure you don’t wanna feel me so deep inside of you that you won’t be able to walk afterwards? That you’ll still be able to feel what we did for days and days?”

Blinking up at him, your legs trembling against his chest, you breathed, “I–…” till your dizzy head began to rock in a nod. 

“Yeah?” he cocked his head and flashed you a smug smile, “then beg for it.”

“Please fuck me–”

“What was that?”

“F-fuck me–”

“What, like I am right now?” he rolled his hips to just shyly plug you up. 

“No, fuck me for real,” your words felt not your own as they desperately flowed out of you, “fuck me exactly like you’ve been dreaming of since we first met, since you first–, ah!” all of the air was then forced out of your lungs as he slammed the remainder of himself all the way inside, stretching you wide of him and letting the tip, the very part of him that had been driving you mad, kiss the deepest part of you and cause your eyes to flutter shut. 

Your knees bent and crumbled down to curl up beside your chest as he meticulously slid halfway out, only to jam his dick back inside. 

He was practically growling above you, sinful grunts rhythmically flowing from his lips at every one of his frantic thrusts.

“Oh my god,” you cried beneath him as your cunt swiftly began to flutter around him, “you f-feel so–, so–, g-good!”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked and then perceptively asked, “are you gonna cum?” leaning down over you as he kept up his efforts. 

You tried to offer him an answer, but in the blissful abyss he’d cast you down in, you could only nod and squeeze your eyes further shut. 

“Then look at me, baby,” you sensed his fingers curl around your cheek, his reach dipping into your hairline, “be a good girl and look at me when you cum around my cock,” and when you managed to force your hazy eyes to blink back open, he stared back down at you as your cunt clenched down around him so fiercely that you nearly forced his girth out entirely, “there you go, fuck…”

But as your high began to melt away into sensitivity, the blonde farmhand didn’t slow his efforts in the slightest, moaning above you as he also was too close to cum to simply stop.

“Tyler, it’s too–,” you whimpered, your thighs shaking on either side of his frame as the creamy aftermath of your orgasm created a ring around the base of his cock and aided his erratic efforts, lending the entirety of his length to plunge back into you with such ease, even as your walls quaked and squeezed tightly around him. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he uttered hazily, “fucking take it, fucking–, ahh!” his hips then shuttered as he tumbled over the edge and pumped you full of his hot load. 

When Tyler one day had an errand to run, some thingy he had to pick up at a neighbouring farm, you hadn’t really paid attention to that part, you had kinda just stopped listening after the discovery that you would get to tag along simply because the neighbour knew you better than him. 

So, once you were both waiting on the ground for the farmer to return with the item, just a curious look to make the time pass by morphed into the pair of you full-on wandering around and being more nosy than what was good for you. 

Though the snooping halted once you pushed open the door to the westernmost barn and discovered a DIY contraption that tickled Tyler’s nostalgia. 

It was a tin barrel, strung up with ropes and tied to a few beams, though he still had to open his mouth for you to fully understand how it was a homemade training tool for when you first began learning how to ride a bull.

By then, some of the fear you’d felt the night you had watched him ride had overflowed and spilt out, which surely also was the reason behind why he suddenly insisted on you hopping on and letting him try to teach the terror out of you. 

“So, like that?” you asked, one of your hands hovering above the one you clutched around the makeshift loop tied around the uppermost quadrant of the barrel you straddled. 

“Almost, you’re only allowed to hold on with the one hand,” he pointed out and you swiftly adjusted, raising your left hand up high just as you remembered he’d done, “yeah, there you go.”

“So, just eight seconds like this?” your thighs squeezed around the drum as Tyler gently tugged on one of the ropes, only making you sway slightly. 

“Yeah,” he nodded as you glanced over at him, “and then there are other things that can get you more points, like how well you hold your balance and if you’re able to control the bull or not, those kinds of things.” 

He then caught you off guard by pulling on the rope a little rougher and offering you a much harsher and more realistic buck of the barrel, though, to your shock, you reacted to it surprisingly well, clenching your thighs and tightening your grip. 

“Atta girl,” he grinned at the startled chuckle that bubbled out of you, “see? It’s not so scary. You’re a natural.”

“Or maybe you’re just going easy on me…” you pointed out, reflecting on how the love you’d had for riding horses since a very young age surely kicked in and aided you in this skill as well. 

“You’re doing great,” he stated, his stare staying glued to how your body and hips swayed borderline sensually to the rhythm he kept up, “relax, give in to the movements more.” 

“How?”

“Just–…” he sucked in a breath, “pretend that you’re on something else…” a sly smirk then spread across his features before he uttered, “pretend that it’s me you’re riding.”

You then promptly felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, as it became impossible to keep up your concentration on the task at hand and swiftly heard yourself shriek, “oh my god, Tyler Owens!”

Letting go of the rope, he stepped closer to you and enjoyed your flustered visage, “or better yet, maybe I should just let you hop on and teach you that way,” he let his palm slide up your leg as he came to stand beside you. 

“You’re ridiculous!” you laughed.

Snaking his hands around your waist, he then effortlessly lifted you back down onto the ground and uttered, “you love it.”

As you felt his breath fan across your features, your giggle got caught in your throat and faded away as you gazed back at him. 

“Yeah, I think I might…” you then whispered before he crashed his lips against yours. 

His boots then began to shuffle as yours did as well, letting him shift you till your spine collided with the gate to one of the empty stalls in the dusty barn. Pushing you up against it as he ravenously kissed you, one of his wide palms then swooped up from his fast hold on your waist to caress the soft peak of your boob through the thin layer of your tanktop. 

A breathy moan couldn’t help but slip up from your lungs when his kisses then faded from your lips and began to dance down the side of your neck. 

“Okay, easy there, tiger,” you caught his head in your hands as his sloppy pecks fluttered against your rapid pulse, “we can’t do anything here.”

“Oh yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow as he peeked up at you, “is that a dare?”

“No,” you chuckled, then reminded him of your neighbour, “he’ll be back any second.”

A groan then seeped through his grin before he pushed himself off of you, “fine…” yet still held his burly arms stretched out and fast on either side of you, supporting his weight against the half wall behind you and doing his very best to stop himself from diving back in.

But then you slowly let yourself float back into his space, “hey,” and tilted your chin to catch his gaze, “I said not here, not that we shouldn’t give it a try…”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[cgclarkphoto]

Retired under the shade -  cg photography

[skeletboi]

Intridimensional AU part 22!

This one is hella short. Sorry.

First /// Previous /// Next

---------------------------‐-----------------------------

Ford and Stan glanced at each other as Fiddleford took off towards the barn in the distance.

“We should probably make sure he doesn't get shot.” Stan said.

“Agreed.” Ford said tiredly, heading after Fidds with Stan right on his heels.

Fiddleford looked back at them as they caught up and smiled.

“Betcha they got a tractor. I can make practically anythin’ with some good tractor parts.”

“We breaking and entering?!” Stan asked excitedly.

“We should probably be cautious…” Ford started to say, but Fiddleford and Stan ignored him as they started to open the large barn door.

“Looks pretty abandoned to me.” Stan said, walking towards the back wall where some old rusty tools were hanging on the walls.

“And they got a tractor!” Fiddleford said, running over to look at it curiously. “Mind givin’ me a hand here, Stanford? Can't really pop the hood with one arm.”

Ford gave in and joined Fiddleford, popping open the front of the tractor and frowning at the motor.

“There isn't much here to work with.” Ford noted as he leaned down for a better look.

“Sure there is. I jus’ gotta access some a’ the other parts from under that seat there. Ya see a phillips head screwdriver over there, Stanley?” Fiddleford asked, leaning around the side of the tractor to look over at Stan.

Stan looked around for a second before finding one and tossing it over to Fiddleford, who tried to catch it with his non-existing hand.

“Shit. Sorry.” Stan said, grimacing.

Ford leaned down and picked up the screwdriver as Fiddleford laughed it off. Ford was not exactly happy with this quiet, technology-void dimension, but he was happy to hear Fiddleford's laugh again so soon after the whole loosing-an-arm incident. He handed the screwdriver to Fiddleford and smiled softly at the excited gleam in his eyes.

Fiddleford got right to work, dropping down to a sitting position next to the tractor and taking screws out with impressive efficiency. Ford left him to his work and walked over to where Stan was digging through drawers in a work bench.

“Find anything good?” He asked.

“I don't know about good, but I won't say no to more weapons.” Stan replied, holding up a large hunting knife.

“Those tools will probably be useful, too. Might as well grab some for Fiddleford so he can make us some better weapons going forward.” Ford said, leaning down next to his brother to get a better look in the drawer.

“You'd know better than me.” Stan replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I bet there's some kind of bag around here, too. My pockets are not going to hold a full mechanic shop.”

“Right.” Ford said, straightening up and glancing around. “I'll see what I can find.”

He spotted a small staircase towards the back of the barn and took it up to the next level. The upper level was dim, but he could see enough to spot a few old boxes stacked against the back wall. He made his way over and opened the closest one, finding clothes and, thankfully, a leather satchel, not unlike the one Fiddeford used to carry around in college. Ford set the box aside as useful and moved onto the next one, then the next, then the next.

He had a whole pile of potentially useful things to show the other two by the time he heard someone coming up the stairs.

“Ford, you up here?” Stan asked.

“Over here.” He responded without looking up.

“It's been like forty minutes. I suddenly understand how you and Fidds built that portal- your focus is exhaustingly intense.” Stan said, coming up beside Ford and glancing in the boxes he'd set aside.

“We do have a tendency to lose track of time.” Ford mumbled. “I did find us all bags, a tool belt, and some less tattered clothes, though, so it was a productive 40 minutes.”

“Not bad. But I think Fidds has you beat. He practically has a full robot arm built out of tractor parts. Not sure how it'll work- but after he built me this leg in less than 24 hours I'm not even surprised.”

“Fascinating.” Ford said, finally looking up at Stan. “Want to help me bring these boxes down? I'm curious to see his arm design.”

“Sure thing, nerd.” Stan said with a laugh.

“Being a nerd is the only reason you have a leg.” Ford deadpanned.

“It's also the only reason I'm in some weird ass barn in another universe. So, ya know.”

Ford grimaced.

“That was a joke, Ford. I don't think that gang can catch up to me here, so it's not so bad. Not ideal, sure, but hey! This is the most we've hung out since high school!” Stan said, patting him on the back before picking up a box and heading back towards the stairs.

Ford watched him for a moment, then shook his head, grabbed a box, and followed him back down the stairs.

-----------------------------------------------

Hella short frfr.

Next part will be about the arm, then probably some more random time-skipping bits since that covers a lot of the main backstory. It'll be more random adventures and less plot heavy after this, but I've also said that before, and wrote more backstory anyway. So ya know... could go either way. Lol.

I need a nap. We throw house shows at my house and it is exhaustingly full of humans right now. 😭 I've done this to myself. But still.

Anyways. See ya for part 23 y'all!

[nonnienautskie]

⌛14 Years Ago⏰ Rusty Memories (website: onlyfans.com/nonnie_40dd)

Upon the rusty tractor she sits, Time-worn wheels beneath her hips, This old machine, long past its prime, Holds echoes of another time. A quiet witness to days of sweat, Of harvest moons we won’t forget.

[keyrey]

Jujutsu Kaisen characters & Industrial revolution (AU) Pt.1 – Nanami Kento POV, the hopeless blacksmith. A multi part series.

I fear the time has come when my work has become rendered useless by the people, and I am unappreciated simply because I am 'less' than a machine. Yes, I may produce 'less,' but what I 'lost,' people used to gain in value and sentimentality.  The Industrial Revolution, lasting around 80 years, significantly reduced the demand for hand-made goods and services such as tailoring, irrigation, and sword-making, which happens to be Nanami's specialty. (Check your history and economics textbooks, kids.) During this period, most blacksmiths were deemed ‘redundant,’ as replacing items when broken became more reasonable and cheaper than repairing them. Yet in the quiet, these sacred skills persisted, anticipating every moment, counting down its return to the world.

I fear the silence has enraptured me, drenching my soul to the thousandth degree.

My eyes darted around the room, taking in the sight of tools strewn around the mountain of unfinished projects. The decline of clients sapped my motivation and the acrid flames from the crucibles dusted my nostrils in a haze of ash. I walked towards the chair at the other side of the room that had served me well all these years, its wooden frame as worn as my spirit. Stuck in this monotony of life. I traced my fingers over the well-worn instruments, their familiarity a stark contrast to the world of chaos beyond these four walls that I’ve surrounded myself in. I wonder how long I can hold on.

The clang of metal on metal, the hiss of steam, and the heat of the forge used to be the heartbeat. Now, a deafening silence enraptured the place like a heavy cloak, broken only by the distant humming of automated machinery. As times change, I struggle with doubts, even within myself, questioning the longevity of my lifestyle. If I wish to retire, I must adapt to the times and conform to the ebb and flow of humanity. 

I have found something to busy myself with, assisting the locals in their financial decisions, though my own, in turn, have been questionable. As I watched them, their careful budgeting and pragmatic choices struck me. Each decision they made, each penny saved and spent wisely, seemed to carry a weight of survival that I could only admire from afar. Farmers transition to tractors, coachmen to bus drivers, caterpillars to butterflies. Am I falling behind?

As I attempted to clear my weary head, I observed the jasmine I planted long ago had found the courage to bravely spread its vines, tangling itself in the depths of the rusty metal trellis perched against the bricked wall. Meanwhile, my osmanthus and chrysanthemum have taken their final drops of water, signaling the end of my tea supply. Even my possessions seem to be slipping away.

Laughs and giggles echo regularly from the speakeasy across the street, where actors, actresses, singers and dancers gather, filling the bar with a reservoir of talent. A reminder of how I used to live, on a hunt for fame and popularity. I had succeeded once, too. The crackling timbre of gravel against tires revealed a car, sleek and shiny, its engine purring like a contented predator. I expected it to pass by like all the others, yet its passengers bearing gold and medallions happened to be seeking a temporary escape. I don’t like to admit it, however, I used to be like that once.

I still remember when I received my first paycheck. I got cocky, lazy, unknowing of the repercussions that lied beyond the surface. Blinded by the allure of fame. How my father’s blacksmithing passion burned in the ashes right before my eyes, how he disappeared from the face of the earth, not remembering the name of his own son.

The door swung open, and a polished shoe touched the pavement with deliberate grace. Slowly, he emerged, straightening to his full height, his tailored suit catching the light just right. His eyes, hidden behind dark circular sunglasses, stood tall as if he owned the world—or was about to. His pearly white locks swayed with the gentle gusts of wind. His peculiar outfit left no room for misinterpretation, reminding me of a secret society member, those in the Edo period from way back when. Three consecutive knocks interrupted my pensive train of thought. Clearly, the man hadn’t seen the ‘closed’ sign on the door. I silently screw myself for only writing the text in Danish. “I am closed, go home, Gojo.” 

I knew him, mostly as the piercing icy blue eyed man who had been loitering around the shop for three days in a row now. I half expected him to add to the collection of the ‘no swords, no shields’ signs that were attached on the notice post by hammer and nail. Ever since the mass blacksmith boycott, he found an opportunity to speak out against the ‘old school’ way of fighting, promoting ‘Jujutsu Sorcery’ as an alternative. I had considered it once, learning how to harness this ability to visualize cursed spirits that I was entrusted with, but I try to ignore them as best as possible due to bad experiences on the field in my younger years.

The Jujutsu corporate world holds far too much ambiguity as we were blind to laboring in pyramid schemes. Just stooges to a bigger picture. Much to my dismay, the green glasses I wear are not only for blacksmithing but also for avoiding eye contact with dehumanized figures of various colors, shapes and sizes. They also irritatingly slide down my nose bridge.

"Sir Nanami! I'd love to have your expertise back in the wondrous field of Jujutsu training. I've got- I mean, I have acquired three new recruits who would benefit from your mentoring."

Despite our history, his tone carried a forced formality. It was a sound that echoed from a child's mouth—squeaky and awkward—from behind the door.

"M-Mister Nanami?" The voice stuttered. I heard Gojo's quiet instructions to the kid, coaching him on what to do next. An eager student, I mused to myself. "Look at this!" His fists glowed with luminescent streaks of black and blue, untamed cursed energy. I couldn't deny it was the start of something unique. This pink haired, pure spirited boy that Gojo had brought in... he was unlike the others.

“Gojo, you don’t understand. I have a life here. Depleting or not, it’s my duty to remain.” I argued, coming up with every reason to deny his offer. Though he seemed to know that I have no sufficient meaning to stay here. 

“Nanami, I-” Gojo interjected. Suddenly, a loud crash reverberated through the shop as Yuji’s cursed energy surged uncontrollably, knocking over a shelf of tools. My senses heightened immediately, recognizing the distinct energy signature. This was not just an accident. The outside air grew heavy with a palpable tension, as if the atmosphere itself was holding its breath. I glanced at Gojo, who was already on alert, his playful demeanor replaced by a serious intensity.

“What did you do, kid?” I asked Yuji, my voice calm but edged with urgency.

“I-I don’t know!” Yuji stammered, eyes wide with panic. “I think I might have accidentally triggered something…”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath us rumbled, and a low, menacing growl echoed from outside. A wave of cursed energy, darker and more malevolent than anything I had felt in years, washed over us.

“Get ready,” Gojo muttered, his eyes flickering with anticipation. “It’s here.”

Reflexes honed from years of experience kicked in. I grabbed my blunt sword, its blade wrapped in bandages. In a fluid motion, I positioned myself in front of Yuji and Gojo, my protectiveness kicking in instinctively. No matter the level of skill the two had, I will always put myself at the forefront.

"Sorcery never goes away from your body," I thought, the weight of the moment grounding me. "It's your prerogative to use it in times of need or hide it away. And for the first time in years, I have chosen the former."

The door shuddered under a heavy blow, and I braced myself. The silence before the storm had ended.

And this is merely the beginning.

👏End of Part one 👏 Goodness, that was a wild ride, I'm almost sad to be leaving y'all on a cliffhanger like this! Hope my second ever fan fiction was enjoyable.

Thank you to my beta readers: Panda and JuwelPK! Part two coming soon. Coming from the POV of Yuji Itadori.

[pattonscribe]

MCYT HALLOWEEN

Recipient: @cryingincrocs

@mcyt-halloween

I had an absolute blast writing this. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Halloween doesn’t officially start until the sun has set, that’s the rule Tango has always abided by. When the only light to illuminate the night is the flicker of jack o'lanterns, when cobwebs dance in the wind, only then does the spirit of Halloween truly come alive.

Tango stood alone outside the front of the restaurant. Hay bales lay stacked at both ends of the road, barricading it from traffic. Off to the side, Mumbo was hunched over the engine of a small tractor, letting out a few choice words every time his grip slipped or smoke got into his face. Scar napped in the back of the hay wagon while Grian talked into an earpiece. Every year he got all in a huff about the main street prep for Halloween, and this year was no different.

For one night, the main street was barren. No cars, no traffic. A red carpet moments away from being sprawled out, giving way to trick or treaters. The custom was for shops on the main street to hand out treats, organize the hayride, and redecorate one of the shops as a haunted house.

The front door chimed as Jimmy and Skizz walked out the front door. As the door was closing, Tango caught his first good look at the interior of the diner now that the haunted house prep had concluded. The candy red checkerboard floors and outdated diner walls were now devoid of all color, covered by tarps and trashbags, further enhancing the illusion of complete darkness. Fog seeped out from every nook with curious eyes, like a cat who takes interest in the outdoors when the door is left ajar just so.

The interior would be decorated to the ceiling with various props and effects. Each of the three got to pick and design their own room. Tango was mighty proud of how his room turned out, tinkering with some of the broken Halloween props from last year made it easy to reuse them now.

“I think everything’s good to go,” Jimmy said, removing the cowboy hat from his head. His face was , “Although your stupid mummy thing tried to kill me at least twice. I thought you fixed all the noodles, or something like that.”

Tango squinted in Jimmy’s direction, “Were you behind the line?”

“Well I- it’s too dark in there and-” Jimmy averted his eyes.

“It’s glow-in-the-dark tape in front of a chain link fence, it doesn’t need to be dark to know you stand behind the tape.”

“Well, I’m a big dog,” Jimmy said with a huff, “A big brave dog who ain't scared of some Halloween props. I just wanted to make sure the dumb thing was working and all.”

Tango smiled warmly and pecked Jimmy’s cheek with a kiss, “It’s on a timer sweetheart, you don’t need to check on it.”

Jimmy’s face flushed red, his words suddenly mush in his mouth.

Skizz spoke up before he could recover. “Alright guys, Halloween's almost officially here and everything is lookin’ good. I think the kids are gonna freakin’ love this!” his voice swayed between giddiness and excitement. There is an electricity that laces his words with the cold, weaseling their way into Tango and Jimmy. “I gotta hand it to you Top, I didn't think we'd make it work.”

Tango gave a rusty laugh, “C'mon, really? We're a three-man team. Unstoppable in every sense of the word. Hard to fail when you've got the brains, the brawn, and Jimmy.” He said, pointing to himself, Skizz, then Jimmy.

“That's right, that's ri- HEY!”

Skizz interrupted before Jimmy could rattle off some choice words, “Well, unless Scar hosts another ‘Landscaping Your Mind’ podcast meet-up and everyone from here to Empires comes in for the lunch rush.”

“That was one time!” Tango interjected. He was just the guy who brought the food out. Skizz was on cleaning duty that day after all, and it wasn't Tango’s fault that he didn't see the water spill on the floor. “If we had stuck to tacos like I said that morning, there wouldn't have been any accidents. Salads only lead to complications.”

Skizz laughed, slapping a hand on Tango's back. “Only one of us had an accident that day buddy, and it sure as hell wasn't me.” 

Across the street, other shops slowly came to life. Pearl was finishing lighting the last of the jack o’lanterns in front of her art shop just as Gem turned the orange string lights dancing across her store front on. Bdubs plugged in the fog machine outside his plant shop, and Etho made the last changes to the Aubrey mechanical replica from Little Shop of Horrors (conveniently placed just outside the plant shop, to Bdubs irritation). 

The conversation bit back and forth between the three of them, until Skizz took note of the time.

“Shoot! It's almost 6 o'clock, Grian's due to open the floodgates any second now.” Skizz turned to Tango, “Care for a little test run? A maiden voyage for good luck before we get this show on the road?”

“Are you doubting my engineering prowess?” Tango balked in amusement, “I hooked up every machine-ificator in there and made them all skadoodle. It's part of my job description as a waiter.” he teased.

“Is part of the job description crying to Etho and Mumbo for help everytime something goes awry?”

Tango shot Skizz a look, “Oh, haha. Very funny wise guy. It’s called debugging, I just needed a few ears to shoot ideas off of.” He trailed off, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper, “And, maybe, sometimes, fix some kinks in the noodles that were a bit more than I could chew.”

Skizz hummed with a knowing look, but kept any words he may have wanted to playfully shoot back to himself. “Alright Jimmy, get in there and knock Tango's socks off!”

Jimmy gave a salute, and with a triumphant “Yes, sir!” he sprinted back into the restaurant.

Tango crossed his arms and smiled. “Alright reaper boy, let's hear the spiel. I'm ready to have my socks fully knocked off.”

[onlyhappyvibes]

[multifandomworldsposts]

The Boy From Bomont

pairing: willard hewitt x fem!reader

warning: sexual harassment/assault, fighting

A/N: basically footloose 2011 in a different way.

Y/N’s POV

I don’t what it is about Bomont, it’s odd to me, we’re not allowed to listen to music including dancing. I’ve never been to a place like this or live in a place like this. My aunt, uncle, my cousins and I have to go to church, I’m not really a religious person but I’ll try to respect the church if I can.

I go to Bomont High School which their traditions at this school is nothing what my last school had. No school dances and no music allowed anywhere at this school.

I meet Ariel and Rusty in my ELA 3 class and Ariel reminds me of a girl who I went to school with, really rebellious, not a goody-goody I can tell, and has a boyfriend who looks like a college kid. Rusty is like me, not what Ariel is.

Rusty took me to the drive-in and everyone was really nice and really dirty minded, like my friends back home. I met Willard, he reminds me of a boy from my last high school. Really southern and really kinda has a good heart.

“What do want from the menu?” Woody told me.

I look at him about to speak but his girlfriend interrupted me.

“Leave that girl alone, so there’s a lot of good food on the menu, I suggest the hot dog.” She says.

I chuckle, “I think I’d like the hot dog with nothing on it.” I said to Claude.

Claude gives me the hot dog and says to Woody, “Now, I don’t want a fine, and you don’t want to get another ticket.”

“Wait, you got a ticket for dancing?” I asked Woody.

“He got two tickets for dancing, one more then you’re off the team!” Woody’s girlfriend said.

I get my stuff and go outside to see what’s going on, I hear music from the speakers.

“Holy.” I go to where Rusty and the rest of her friends are at.

Everyone continues to dance and I’m amazed by this, everyone hates the fact that dancing is against the law.

“Y/N, come on let’s dance.” Woody’s girlfriend says to me, leading me to the middle of the huge crowd of people dancing.

I start to dance and I get into it and I hear people cheering, I don’t know why for me or for another person. I continue dancing and noticing no one is dancing, just me. I got kinda nervous but I continue to dance. Ren starts dancing with me, I follow his lead, until I notice Ariel so I stop and faked a reason why I’m going to Rusty and the rest of her friends.

“Attention. Attention. Ariel Moore, will you please come to the front of the diner? Your daddy is here for you.” Claude says in a speaker.

Ariel leaves with her dad. “Daddy’s gon’ take her out to the woodshed.” Willard says.

“What does that mean?” I said looking at him.

“It means she’s in deep shit.”

What is wrong with the county?

I got to know Rusty friends a lot better, especially Willard, he told me about his personal life and what even happens at this county. I can’t stop looking in his eyes but I can’t help it. He seems like a sweet guy to me.

Ren gets in an invite to go to the speedway and Woody, Willard, Rusty, Woody’s girlfriend and I go to support Ren and I notice the gang, they are creepy to me. I get uncomfortable by approaching them and Willard notices me get uncomfortable so he holds my hand. The words I’m even hearing right now get me uncomfortable. I don’t want to be here.

“I love that lil dance you were doing last night. Noticed that you can swing your hips like, what are they called, a stripper.” Chuck says to me.

He’s friends giggle.

“Thank you, didn’t notice a maggot was looking at me being a pervert.” I said back.

He wants to kill by the way he’s looking at me.

“Now, how about you start dancing with this.” Chuck says to Ren getting in a tractor.

I hate this.

The race starts and I get nervous because some of Chuck’s gang get in three buses. I hope Ren survives this. My friends and I get up to where the flags are at.

“Go Ren!” We all say.

Ren is winning but we saw the most terrifying things I’ve ever seen. The buses tipped over and destroyed. Ren tries to stop and Woody and Willard goes out there to save him. Ren jumps out with Willard and Woody.

“Holy shit!” I say. Rusty laughs at my comment.

THE NEXT DAY

I get to the library to study for some things in some of my classes and I notice someone in the corner of my eye and it’s one of the guys from yesterday.

“Can I talk to ya.” He says.

I ignore him.

“Listen, yesterday was cool wasn’t?”

I stay silent.

“You’re actually kinda cute. Wanna somewhere more private?” He says.

“I don’t want to.” I said to him.

“Come on, a girl like you, might get a baby in her belly.” He says with a disgusting smirk on his face.

“I gotta go.” I get my things and try to leave but he stops me and tries to touch me.

“Let go of me you creep!” I struggle and kick his dick.

“Excuse me?” A librarian says.

I look at him and he takes me to the principal’s office.

AT THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE

“Now Ms. Y/L/N, why did you kick Rich?” Principal Roger says to me with the librarian and a cop in the room.

“Rich tried to touch me! And he, he wanted to rape me.” I said.

“Now Y/N, tell us the truth, what did he do to you to make you hit him.” Principal Roger says.

“What I just said.” I say looking in his eyes.

“Well he said that he was trying to help you with your homework.” He says to me.

“He’s lying!” I kinda yells.

“Now Y/N-“

“He told me that a girl like me can get pregnant!” I interrupt him.

“Then why did you kick him?” The librarian says.

I make a big sigh and say, “He sexually harassed me!”

“I know Rich won’t do that.” The cop says.

“Are you kidding me? Does anyone in this town understand about sexual harassment or assault?” I question.

“We do Y/N.” Principal Roger says.

Bullshit.

“Y/N, here’s your ISS slip and have a good day.” He says.

I take the slip out of his hand and look at it and look at him.

“You guys really don’t know what’s going on with women today don’t you?” I says and walk out of the office and went outside to get out of this hell hole.

“Y/N/N!” Ariel says to me but I ignore her.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?” She comes close to me.

I look at her, “Had the worst god damn day of my life.” I say.

“You wanna talk about it?” She says.

“I prefer not to, you won’t believe me.” I walk away.

“What happened?” She yells at my direction.

“You won’t even care!” I yell back.

I get in my car to drive at some abandoned warehouse. I get out of my car and start to get out and then start to think on what just happened at school.

“HE ASSAULTED ME, HE TRIED TO TOUCH ME AND I GET DETENTION!” I yell.

“IM NOT A STRIPPER CHUCK, ASSHOLE!” I yell again.

I start to cry and I sit on the floor and bawled my eyes out. Why do people don’t take women seriously? I curl up in a ball and cry to myself. I hear some footsteps, I look where the noises are at and it’s Willard.

I whimper a bit.

“What’s wrong?” Willard said walking up to me.

“I got in school suspension.” I wipe my tears off my face.

“What happened?” He sits next to me.

“That guy yesterday, Rich, he tried to touch me and he, he told me I would look good pregnant, and when he was trying to touch me, I kicked him in the ball sack.” I look at him.

“And you got suspended?” He questions.

I nod.

“Y/N/N, I’m sorry that happened to you.” Willard says and hugs me, I hug him back, I cry again.

“Those guys are assholes.” Willard whispers in my ear.

I giggle. “They really are. Does this town even care about women’s rights at all?” I stop hugging him and look at him.

“Apparently not.” He says.

I look down at the ground and Willard makes me look at him. I look at him with teary eyes, he kisses me. I kiss him back. He’s the only guy I can trust to be around me including Ren and Woody.

We stop kissing and he gets my hair away from my face.

“I wanna go home.” I said.

“I’ll take you home Y/N/N.” He says.

“Really? I mean I can drive myself.” I said.

“No, I insisted Y/N/N.” He holds his hand out for me so he can help me back up on my feet.

He helps me up and I give him my car keys. I get in the passenger seat and Willard gets in the driver’s seat.

“You ready?” He says looking at me.

“Yeah.” I look at him.

He drives away from the abandoned warehouse, I can’t believe what happened today. He pulls up to my driveway but we stayed in my car for a few minutes.

“I have a question Willard.” I look at him.

“Yes Y/N/N?” He looks at me.

“Why aren’t we allowed to dance or play music whatsoever?” I ask.

“Um, Ariel’s brother, Bobby and some of his friends went partying, they were drinking and driving, and they got in a car accident on a bridge.” Willard told me.

“Is that why Ariel is the way she is now?” I ask.

“Yeah, she used to be a goody two shoes back when we were freshman and sophomore and now she’s a rebellious girl who goes to church.”

“I met that type of person and she’s my friend since elementary school and she reminds me of Ariel.” I said to him.

“And she’s the preacher’s daughter.” He says.

I can’t believe that I just heard that, I never knew about that but I remember seeing her at church but never got to meet her.

“And she hangs out with those creeps and the one who tried touching me?” I said.

“Yep.” He says.

“Willard, do you want me to drive you home?” I said.

“My house is three houses down, you know that Y/N/N.”

I never noticed whatsoever.

“Oh I forgot about that Willard.” I said.

“It’s okay.”

Willard and I get out of my car and I walk up to him, he gives me my car keys.

“Again thank you for driving me home Will.” I said looking up at him.

“You’re wel- Will?” He questions.

“Am I allowed to call you that? You can tell me if you don’t want me to call you that.” I say.

“It’s fine. It’s cute that you just said that Y/N.” He gets closer to me.

“I-I love you.” I said.

“I love you to.” He smirks.

We kiss again. I hear giggling and it’s my cousins watching us. I look at them kinda embarrassed. Willard laughs at them.

“Again thank you for driving me home Will.” I said to him.

“Once again, you’re welcome.” He smiles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

“Hopefully all because of your stupid in school suspension dates.” He says.

“Don’t remind me.” I said walking to my car to get my book bag and the slip.

“See you tomorrow Y/N/N.” He says about to walk away.

“Hopefully Will.” I said back.

I show my aunt and uncle the slip and obviously they get angry but I tell them the full story and they agree with me but they want me to do the suspension days. I’ll do it but I don’t deserve to go to detention for what that asshole did to me.

I eventually showed and told Ariel the ISS slip and the whole story on what Rich did to me and Ariel confronted Chuck and Rich about it and Chuck beats her up. She tells her father and he slaps her because she’s not a virgin. When she came to my house, I call Rusty to come over and I patch her up. The three of us stayed up talking about my situation including Ariel’s as well but besides that, we talked for hours until we fell asleep on my bedroom floor.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Ren is teaching Willard to dance. Woody, Ren, his cousins, my cousins and I help Willard to dance and he kinda got the hang of dancing. He asks me to dance with him and I join him. Ren and Woody notice us kinda flirty.

“You guys! There’s children here.” Ren says.

“Oh we caught them kissing a while back.” Sarah, my cousin, says.

“She just exposed you two.” Ren laughing.

We kinda get embarrassed but sometimes we don’t even care what people think of us.

Ren and I keep on helping Willard to dance, he kinda got confused but then one day he danced like Ren. Ren and Willard practiced a dance a week or so and Will finally did it!

A few weeks later, the county including students from Bomont High School and parents went to the county courthouse to talk about why dancing isn’t a crime. I sit with Willard and my aunt, uncle and my cousins sit next to me. Ren talked on the bench and a few hours later, dancing isn’t against the law anymore! So the whole senior class goes to the abandoned warehouse that I went to, to cry my feeling out but this is about Bomont’s first dance. We get decorations up on anything that involves a wall.

THE NIGHT OF THE DANCE

I get my dressed for the dance I hear a knock on the door and it’s my aunt.

“You look beautiful Y/N/N.” She says tearing up.

“Thank you Y/A/N.” I hug her.

“Someone’s waiting for you.” Y/A/N smiles.

“Willard?” I smile.

“Yeah Y/N. He looks really cute.” She whispers in my ear.

I look down, I think she can tell I’m blushing.

“I’m going downstairs, don’t stay up here too long.” She says walking out of my room.

“I will.” I said.

I fix my hair and walked downstairs and see Willard. Looking like country boy. I can tell he looks so happy.

I approach him and he has a crossage in his hand, I believe that my uncle gave him that.

“You look beautiful.” Willard whispers in my ear.

“Thank you.” I say.

He puts the crossage on my wrist and it matches my dress.

“Now you two, have a fun time and if something happens, call me.” My uncle said.

“We will Y/U/N.” I said.

I hug my aunt and uncle including my cousins and Willard drives us to the warehouse.

When we got out of the car we see Chuck, Rich and this other guy approaching us.

“Look who it is, the school’s slut and the school’s cowboy.” Chuck says.

“Let’s not fight alright, Rich how’s your small dick.” Willard says.

“It’s fine. Listen, you need to pay my medical bill.” Rich says directly at me.

“Let’s go Will.” I whisper to Willard.

We try to walk away but Chuck and Rich grab me and the other guy grabs Willard and I try to fight back but they were too strong.

“Do something Willard!” I scream.

“I can’t fight Y/N!”

“Fight Will!”

Willard starts fighting the other guy and I start to fight back Chuck and Rich. Ariel, Rusty, and Ren comes out to us fighting.

“Get your damn hands off of her!” Ariel screams at Rich and Chuck.

I fight with Ariel and I notice that Willard, Ren and Rusty is fighting the other guy. When everything was over Willard approached me.

“Are you okay?” Willard says touching my cheek.

“I’m okay, are you?” I question.

“I am Y/N/N. Let’s get in that warehouse.” He says grabbing my hand and taking me to the door.

Ariel, Ren, and Rusty join us and told us if we’re okay. When we got in the warehouse, music began to play, we danced like it was the last day on earth dancing.

Bomont isn’t that bad, except me getting suspended. I made good friends with the best humans I’ve ever met and I have a boyfriend who’s the most sweetest boy I’ve ever met as well.

Ariel told me this quote one day, ‘Dance like no one’s watching.’ And that’s what I did, danced like no one’s watching.

[gaysullengirl]

𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧. bruised knuckles

warnings: blood, violence, mentions of abuse.

❝ say what you want, but say it like you mean it, with your fists for once. ❞ - american teenager, ethel cain

    Isabelle lifted her head up from the conference table when she heard the door open, Spencer and Morgan walked in.

"What happened?" She asked, "The jewelry shop owner couldn't think of anyone." Morgan said.

"Okay." Hotch nodded, "What do we know about him so far?"

"Hispanic man, 50s to 60s, divorced or never married." Emily said, "What if he lives on a farm?" Isabelle offered, "That would make sense." Spencer agreed.

"How so?" "Well there's a lot of farmers around here, he'd have space to kill- no one would hear the victims scream."

"Call Garcia." Hotch ordered, Morgan nodded, dialing her number, "Hey baby girl, I need you to narrow down a search for me." After a few seconds Morgan spoke, "She's got 4 names."

"What are they?" Emily asked, "William Green,  Joesph Miller, Daniel Barrett, and Aaron Rodriguez."

"Wait go back." Isabelle said, a horrified expression on her face, "Daniel Barrett?" Morgan said curiously.

She nodded slightly, "What does he look like?" She asked panicked, "Why? does that name sound familiar?" Morgan questioned.

"Just- what does he look like?" She demanded, Morgan asked Garcia and a few moments later turned his phone toward Isabelle.

Her eyes widened, suddenly every bone in her body felt so light yet so heavy, like they were weighing her down.

Isabelle couldn't help but drop to the floor- her knees completely giving out, her vision went blurry but she could still hear the team gathered around her.

"What's wrong?" She could her Spencer say- she'd always be able to recognize his voice, Isabelle didn't even realize she was crying until she felt her tears fall into her lap.

She could feel Spencer carefully wipe one away, she instinctively leaned into his arms, his soft sweater catching her tears.

After a minute she finally felt like she could say something, "My dad. I think my dad's the killer."

The team looked to each other, "Garcia, I need more information on Daniel Barrett."

"Uhm, He's 59, lives on a farm-" "Message me the address, Morgan, Emily, Rossi, let's go." Hotch interjected.

"Spencer, stay here with her." Hotch ordered, Spencer nodded his head softly, brushing hair out of Isabelle's face as she laid in his arms.

୨୧

The two had been sitting on the floor of the conference room for twenty minutes with no update from anyone.

Spencer called Morgan- for the fourteenth time, once again it went to voicemail, he sighed.

"Spence." Isabelle whispered, "Yeah?" "We should go there, what if something bad happened?"

He shook his head, Spencer stood up and paced back and forth, "Shit." He mumbled to himself.

Isabelle had a point, what if something bad really did happen? Isabelle didn't talk about her dad much but from what Spencer had heard he was dangerous.

୨୧

Gravel crunched as the bau's suv drove over it, the car came to a stop, "I'm going to find Hotch, don't leave the car." Spencer said sternly.

Isabelle nodded and watched him Spencer walk to the house, she turned her gaze to the right, across a field sat a red run down barn.

'Is that flashing?' she thought to herself, focusing on the light coming from the blurry window of the barn.

Flash. Flash. Flash. "Sos." Isabelle whispered, without even thinking she unbuckled herself and pushed the car door open.

Sprinting didn't even begin to describe the pace at which Isabelle ran through the overgrown field.

She didn't even bother to look back, once she reached the barn, she quietly unlatched the door, it slowly creaked open.

Inside sat an old tractor, it was rusty and covered in cobwebs, the rest of the barn was in a similar fashion- dark and run down.

The flashing light stopped but Isabelle could still hear rustling from behind the tractor, she carefully walked towards it, looking around for something to use as a weapon.

A baseball bat, perfect, she grabbed it, and rounded the corner of the tractor.

There was a girl, her brunette hair ratted and dried blood along her arm, Isabelle dropped the bat.

"Juliana." She whispered, the younger sister's gazed softened, she attempted to stand up but was held back by the handcuffs on her left wrist.

Isabelle dropped to the ground, pulling her sister into a hug, Isabelle tried to say something but couldn't, overtaken by emotion as she wept into the girls shoulder.

"You found me." Juliana cried.

"I'm sorry it wasn't earlier." Isabelle sobbed, "Don't say that." Juliana answered.

The girls both pulled from the hug when they head the barn door creek open, Isabelle held a finger to her mouth, telling Juliana to be quiet.

She grabbed the bat off the floor and crouched behind the other side of the tractor, the door was open but no body was there.

She furrowed her brows, looking back to Juliana and her face fell from sadness to anger, her grip on the bag tightened.

Behind her younger sister stood the girls' dad, "What are you doing here?" He muttered, Isabelle stood up slowly, keeping her gaze on him.

She didn't even pay attention to his question, before even thinking she raised the bat and swung at him.

He narrowly ducked out of the way causing her to momentarily loose balance, Isabelle dropped the bat and charged at her father, punching him- over and over again.

He shoved her against the barn wall, she groaned and reached to the back of her head, already feeling a bump.

Isabelle had imagined what it would be like if she ever saw him again- she lived for the thrill of hitting him, just like he had done to her.

"I'm sorry, angel." He whispered, outstretching his arms, but she knew this trick, he played the exact same card many times before.

"You're not sorry." She shook her head, "You were killing me over and over again, huh?" She said and his head dropped, "Kill me then."

"What?" Both her dad and Juliana said, Isabelle didn't even try to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks, "You've spent years killing girls- imagining they were me, now I'm here so how about you kill me you fucking asshole!"

"I'm not gonna kill you." He said, cupping her cheek, "Get the fuck off me." She whispered.

He leaned closer, "You think you're so strong, huh? You're just like your mom." Just when Isabelle thought she couldn't get any angrier, she did.

"Don't fucking talk about mom!" She yelled, pushing him off of her.

Isabelle charged at him, once again littering his face with punches, her knuckles ached but she didn't even think about stopping.

He punched her back, she flew backwards onto the barn floor, her arm scraping against a metal part of the tractor, leaving her with a gash.

"Fuck!" She cried, gripping her arm, Isabelle blinked desperately, praying that her vision would restore itself.

She could partially see her father standing over her but all that she could hear was ringing.

She felt a flashlight shine on her Spencer rushed to her side, "I'm so sorry, honey, are you okay?" He asked panicked and helped her sit up.

"Julianna." Isabelle whispered softly, "It's okay, the paramedics are checking on her."

"Here, these people are gonna check on you, okay?" He said and she nodded.

To be honest Isabelle didn't know what was happening, all of this felt fake, her vision was still blurry and her hearing hadn't restored itself.

If she were with anyone else she wouldn't trust them, but having Spencer by her side, him rubbing her back comfortingly, it kept her from completely losing it.

authors note !

wasn't gonna post this until next week but i decided to today, also 25k reads is actual insanity thank you so much :')

[maximura]

Ad Astra: The Theory Of Relativity | An Interstellar Ateez story Part I | Part II | Part III | Park IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII (Words 5000, Gen, Warnings: swearing) You can now also read it all on A03

The rocket thrusters continue to fire at 100% but they cannot maintain the shuttle’s momentum without the pilot taking control of the flight path. The shuttle’s wing panels shake and shimmer with instability, the craft veers dangerously off course, losing both fuel and momentum as it surges haphazardly towards the exosphere. 

The pilot loses control of the engines. 

The pilot loses control of the thrusters. 

The pilot loses control of the navigation. 

The shuttle breaks apart in the exosphere with no survivors on board. 

The screen goes black.

*

“This simulation is rigged!” San announces hotly as he climbs out of the flight simulator.

“No, it’s not.” Hongjoong replies through the intercom of the control room. “This is based on a real mission. It is achievable.”

“I’ve done it twice and it’s failed both times. Even Mingyu didn’t get past the exosphere and Taehyun crashed it four times! How do we even know it can be done?"

Seungcheol steeples his fingers in contemplation but there’s a sly mischievous grin on his face as he looks at Hongjoong and nods towards the simulator. 

“Go on. Show the children.” 

Hongjoong pushes the intercom button again.

“I know it can be done San because I did it. This was my mission. I wrote this simulation."

If earning Choi San’s awe and respect turns out to be a bad influence on the teenager, well that’s between them and God. 

****

Dear Mr Kim, 

I regret to inform you that there has been an incident regarding Flight Training Simulator A. As you know, an emergency meeting has been arranged tomorrow. You are expected to arrive at 9:00am KST sharp. I’m sure you are also aware, though I feel the need to remind you again, that the consequence of your non-compliance, like mine, always leads to martial law.

Regards, 

Dr Park Seonghwa

NASA Deputy head of Astrophysics, Robotic Engineering and Interstellar Biology, PhD

P.S I strongly advise that you dress appropriately and avoid any confrontation, for both our sakes. As I am writing to you in confidence, please delete this message after reading. 

****

“Yunho! Get up!” 

The lump on the bed doesn’t move.

At least not until Hongjoong nudges it with his foot. “I’m serious, get up! I need to talk to you.”

Groaning, Yunho rolls over, a little shocked to see his older brother fully dressed up in a shirt and tie this early on a Saturday morning.

“Why are you up already? What are you wearing?” He croaks, throat rusty from sleep. “Is that dad’s tie?”

Hongjoong is reading a letter with a deep frown on his face. “I’ve been called into NASA’s head office for an urgent meeting, they’re flipping out about something. I need you to start that job on Mr Lee’s tractor engine by yourself today. You know how, we did the same thing a few weeks ago. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“What? By myself?” Yunho repeats in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

Hongjoong doesn’t look up from his letter. “Yes I'm sure. I’ve already called Mr Lee. He’s fine with it as long as I come take a look this afternoon to double check. You’ll be fine, you’ve done it plenty of times already.”

Yunho sits up in bed now. “I’ve only done it five times Hongjoong and you were there for all of them.” 

“I barely had to correct you on anything last time. You don't really need me anymore. You're ready.”

Yunho just gapes at him, mouth opening and closing without any words coming out. 

Hongjoong finally folds the offending document he’s reading into his bag and looks at his brother. 

They’ve been so tired and caught up in their own separate problems that they’ve missed how worn out the other has been. The NASA job eats up most of Hongjoong’s time and if there’s anything left over, it’s spent trying to keep up with all the farming jobs that continue to come in.

Hongjoong makes it a rule that no matter where their day takes them, they come home to eat dinner together. Yunho appreciates how hard his older brother is trying to hold everything together but can’t ignore the way that grip is slipping. One day there won't be a grip at all. One day Yunho will need to take matters into his own hands. He knows it's coming, he just doesn't know when.

“Listen, if you can’t do it, I’ll call Mr Lee and reschedule it.” Hongjoong sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He’ll understand."

“No, I can do it!” Yunho interjects loudly, wincing at how harsh his voice suddenly got. “It’s just….I haven’t done a whole job without you before.”

Hongjoong comes over to squeeze his brother's shoulder firmly, the movement is reassuring and grounding for the both of them. “The tractor is older than you. It’s basic as they come. Mr Lee isn’t in a rush so you’ll be fine. Wooyoung is on for tool-duty. You got this.”

“Well, um okay. If you think so.”

“Yes, I do.” Hongjoong nods. “Now get up. It’s 8am. I’ll drop you guys off with the tools on the way.”

“Can I have five more minutes?”

“Sure.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Get your ass up now.”

*****

It's with a sense of deja vu that Hongjoong meets Seungcheol in the dim corridor of NASA’s headquarters. The older man painting a well-practiced picture of apathy: his white shirt sleeves are already rolled up to the elbows, dark blue tie slackened despite the early hour and those broad shoulders devoid of any tension at all as they lean against the wall.

He wears a deeply unimpressed expression on his face which only brightens up when he sees Hongjoong approaching. 

“Morning!”

“Morning?” Hongjoong replies slowly, confused by the jovial tone of his friend at a time like this. “Did you get the same memos as me? NASA sounds pissed.”

“Every government agency sounds pissed.” Seungcheol points out. “Same shit, different day.”

“Why don’t you have PTSD from this?” Hongjoong asks. “Last time we were both summoned to a meeting together, we both lost our jobs.”

Seungcheol laughs brightly. “Well, kiddo, the thing is: we’re all they’ve got. They know it. I know it. You know it. So this is probably just a little formality to let them air their grievances so it looks like we got disciplined. Just nod and smile and we’ll be outta here in 40 minutes max.”

Hongjoong opens his mouth to protest but Seungcheol is already holding up a finger. “Do. Not. Engage. You hear me? Your mouth and attitude always gets us in trouble.”

“Me?! But I don’t even know what-”

Seungcheol quirks a strong, and vaguely threatening, eyebrow. 

“Okay okay.” Hongjoong sighs, holding his hands up in surrender. “No engaging, I got it.”

“Good. Just smile and nod. It’ll be fine!” Seungcheol chirps cheerfully again. “Whatever this bullshit is, let’s just get it over with. The fucking audacity to call me in on my day off and not even tell me the emergency. I swear these clowns just want to push my buttons.”

Hongjoong looks over, confused again. Maybe Seungcheol didn’t get the same memo from Dr. Park. Maybe he just didn’t bother to read the details. Or maybe he didn’t want to know, though the latter scenarios seem highly unlikely. Which leaves… 

“We’re all here on our day off Commander Choi. Perhaps the clowns are just ready for the circus to roll into town.”

Doctor Park Seonghwa. 

He had walked up to them so quietly that Hongjoong barely even heard it. They nod a polite greeting to one another but nothing more is said.

It's been awhile since they saw each other; a few weeks feeling like years, both men now in possession of longer hair, shorter tempers and heavier responsibilities. Not even the dim lighting of NASA’s corridor could hide their dark circles and tired lines; familiar telltale signs of one’s complete inability to find any work-life balance. 

They share a brief look of what might be understanding or maybe commiseration, on Hongjoong’s part anyway, before Yeosang directs them into the boardroom with a professionally neutral expression on his face. 

And then it begins. 

Yeosang clears his throat before briefing the room on the latest developments: 

“Last night, Friday 22nd, at approximately 7pm, our security personnel received an alert from the Western training facility. Upon further investigation, a Level 1 trainee was discovered in Flight Training Simulator A. He was promptly escorted off the premises and will be questioned in due course. This meeting’s purpose is to address the unfortunate news that there has been a malfunction with Simulator A that has rendered it inoperable for the foreseeable future. We have our technicians assessing it as we speak.”

What the hell.

Hongjoong notices that Professsor Park is not present around the table but the same familiar suits and faces from his previous interrogation are. This is not going to end well. Not when he was the last person to run a simulation on that very machine. 

“Commander Choi, as lead instructor, what is your knowledge regarding the malfunction of Flight Training Simulator A?”

For all his intensity and prickly demeanour, Seungcheol remains oddly civil. “The simulator was functioning normally during the last training session. I have no knowledge of any malfunctions. NASA doesn’t pay me enough to babysit the children after hours.”

The suits are unamused but accept his answer and move on.

“Mr Kim, what is your knowledge regarding the malfunction of Flight Training Simulator A?”

“Training finished at the scheduled 5pm. The simulator was working normally when we left. I….was at a birthday party for my brother after that. I don’t have any knowledge of the malfunction either.”

There’s a murmur from the Head Suits but they also move on, turning to the left to address someone else. 

“Doctor Park, as a Deputy Head, what is your knowledge regarding the malfunction of Flight Training Simulator A?”

Hongjoong looks across the tablet in surprise.

The young Doctor is trying keeping his face neutral but Hongjoong can see his jaw muscles tensing, no doubt a movement to contain the simmering frustration underneath.

“As I have already informed you all in writing, I do not have further knowledge of the malfunction.”

The Blue Suit leans forward, in both a leering and aggressive way that makes Hongjoong’s hands twitch. “Yes, of course we have read your email but what I am asking you now Doctor Park, is why your security ID tag was used to access the training facility after hours?”

Quiet gasps of shock ripples through the room and Hongjoong looks at the Doctor in earnest now, searching that stern and cold face for any signs of….anything. 

But there’s barely anything else to find. 

“I believe I also explained that in my email.” Doctor Park replies evenly, before dropping his security tag onto the wooden table with a loud clack that echoes uncomfortably in the cavernous room. “There is only one copy of my security ID tag and it is sitting here on this table right now. If there is another one out there, then that is a security issue, because I can assure you that I have not-“

“Could it be that you allowed the trainee to borrow it?” The Blue Suit interrupts. “He would have access to it, would he not? Perhaps when you were not looking?”

“No. I did not do that.” Doctor Park furrows his eyebrows in frustration. It’s a small movement but it’s there. The cracks are beginning to show and it makes Hongjoong suddenly nervous to see the other man be anything but a cold stone wall.

“He knows not to do that.”

He? 

Who?

Oh no.

Hongjoong is still processing the information but Seungcheol is leaning back in his chair chuckling quietly to himself, as if he’s figured it all out and all that’s missing is a bowl of popcorn to enjoy the show. 

“But he did do it.” The Blue Suit pushes on. “We have security footage that Choi San used your ID tag to gain access to the training facility, then proceeded to spend the next three hours frying the electrics of our Flight Simulator. What do you think we should do about that?”

Doctor Park’s hands form two fists on the table for a few seconds before relaxing again. “He is to face the consequences the Board sees fit but I ask you to consider his age and abilities-“

“You cannot be impartial.” The Blue Suit scowls, shaking his head in disappointment. “The board members have been considering removing you from the Lazarus mission. Favouritism has no place at NASA.”

At this, there is audible shock in the room. Even Seungcheol sits up. 

“What the hell?!” It slips from Hongjoong’s mouth before his filter could even catch it. “This is ridiculous. It’s mostly his mission!”

Seungcheol groans beside him and kicks at his ankle in warning. “Don’t…”

But it’s too late, all the attention swings from Doctor Park to rest heavily on Hongjoong’s face. Suddenly his dad’s tie feels like it’s choking him.

Flashbacks flood his mind now; from being escorted off his half broken ship, to the humiliating hearing, to the disappointment on his parent's faces, to Seungcheol’s angry tirade in the aftermath and finally, to them both being fired permanently from any NASA or military employment. 

Yeosang clears his throat, perhaps sensing the precarious mood in the room, and speaks before the Suits get the chance. 

“Mr Kim, if you do not have any further relevant information to contribute to this matter, I would suggest letting the Board continue.”

It’s a warning and a small mercy. Seungcheol has to kick Hongjoong’s ankle twice to get the message across. 

“Yes. I apologise.” Hongjoong forces himself to say. “I don’t have any more….relevant information.” 

The Suits turn back to Doctor Park, whose elegant edges were beginning to fray. 

“Doctor Park, the Board has always appreciated you and your father’s generosity in assisting Trainee Choi San into the program. We regret Professor Park cannot join us today but we cannot be seen showing leniency and favouritism in the face of such egregious irresponsibility. The Board moves to relieve you of your role in the flight training portion of the Lazarus Mission. You will only have security clearance for your robotics and biological pursuits. Trainee Choi will be demoted from Level 1 to Level 2 as a consequence. You understand this has to be done. We take no joy in it.”

Doctor Park’s jaw tenses again and Hongjoong can feel the intensity rolling off the other man in deafening waves. 

“I ask you to please reconsider. I will pay for the repairs, I can assure you Trainee Choi only had good intentions-“

The Blue Suit laughs. “His good intentions broke a $10 Million dollar NASA grade machine.”

The Doctor slumps at that. Finally defeated.

“The Board’s decision is final. If there are any objections from any other members, let them voice it now.”

Hongjoong’s fingers dig into the arm rests but before he can even move forward in his seat to protest again, Seungcheol’s hand shoots out to yank him back. “No.”

When Hongjoong looks across the table to lock eyes with Doctor Park, he’s met with a small dejected shake of the head.

Remnants of last night's email echoes in his head;

P.S I strongly advise that you dress appropriately and avoid any confrontation, for both our sakes.

It's only then that the fight leaves Hongjoong. 

“That concludes the first portion of today’s meeting.” Yeosang’s neutral voice fills the room again. “We move to the second portion, regarding the unsatisfactory behaviour and progress of our trainees. The Board expresses concerns regarding the training methods used by Commander Choi and Mr Kim, from whom we request an explanation.”

It takes a few seconds for Seungcheol to move forward in his seat, like he had all the time in the world. His tie remains askew and he runs a hand through his long dark hair before speaking. The movement irks several Board Members and Hongjoong marvels at Seungcheol’s exceptional talent for pissing off government heads. 

“We’ve inherited a misfit group of mediocre pilot trainees. It takes time breaking bad habits, we’re doing it as fast as we can. Bad habits are worse than no habits.”

“What is your solution for this mediocre performance?”

“Solution?” Seungcheol snorts a laugh that sounds both resigned and annoyed. “You want us to upskill a bunch of kids in 12 months, at something that takes at least 4 years, in a job that less than 1% of the population can perform, with 90% less resources. The solution is to keep going.”

“Keep going?” The Blue Suit deadpans condescendingly. “That’s the solution? Could you be more specific? Might I remind you of the amount of goodwill and money we have—“

Seungcheol breathes in and out so heavily and so slowly that the entire room can see it, hear it and feel it. Like a Dragon taking pause before it makes a kill. Even Yeosang shifts uncomfortably in his chair. 

“No. You may not.” The commander says coldly. “No amount of money can fix them. If you want specifics: these kids aren’t good enough. The only solution for better results is better training and better pilots. We’re working like hell on the former but we’re in short supply of the latter.”

Hongjoong braces himself as Seungcheol continues. 

“Do not speak to me about goodwill. Your goodwill means nothing. These kids know they may be giving up their lives for future missions and they’re still stubborn enough to keep going. That’s the only goodwill I care about.”

There is a beat of silence but miraculously, Blue Suit only frowns as he continues. “How do you propose to increase their experience now that one of the simulators is out of action? Are you prepared to increase your work hours? Are either of you? We need pilots ready as soon as possible.”

“Well, you already have a fully trained pilot don’t you?" Seungcheol says, his eyes full of apology as they land on Hongjoong. "He’s a bit rusty, sure, but it would take me less time getting him mission-ready than it would running that pilot daycare.”

Seungcheol pauses, and there’s another rare gentle look in his eyes as he regards Hongjoong again, “The pilot daycare is years away from being mission ready so if you people want a competent pilot in space in the next 6 months, get the CyberSynk program back online. CAASI was made for this wasn’t he?”

This question is directed at Doctor Park, whose shock is clearly visible. “Yes but he hasn't done a flight with another human since the program shut down."

"But he can do it can't he? Isn't this what you built him for?"

"....Yes."

The Suits voice their objections but Seungcheol pushes on.

“How soon can you get him and LEO flight ready?”

Doctor Park is taken aback by the question again but after a moment's pause, his reply comes out steady, “A month at most, to recalibrate the data and sequences.”

“See? There you go. I solved this ridiculous maths problem for you all.” Seungcheol leans back in his chair with a smug grin before pointing to both Hongjoong and Doctor Park. “I need that lunatic because he’s our best pilot and I need the good doctor over there for his robots. So if you really want to get this circus on the road, you’re going to need to immediately re-instate both of them as active mission personnel.”

The room breaks out into instant loud protest again but Hongjoong can’t hear them above the chaos in his head. How well does Seungcheol know CAASI? Who was LEO? The CyberSynk Program was shut down by NASA years ago because they couldn't be convinced that man and robot could co-pilot a space shuttle together into deep space. They had deemed the standard built-in auto-pilot AI option was already adequate. If CyberSynk has been shut down for all these years, why was CAASI built for it?

Hongjoong can’t think straight. There’s a loud ringing in his ears that keeps him frozen in his chair but when he finally lifts his head up to look across the table, all he sees is Doctor Park’s wide eyes locking into his. 

There’s Shock. Concern. But underneath it all, determination. 

****

Hongjoong sits on a metal bench, hidden away from the main building, just breathing and staring at the expanse of dirt and dust in front of him. It was quiet, calm, not altogether unpleasant but this dusty-nothingness wasn’t really a way to live either. His brothers deserve better. 

There’s a rustle to his left that pulls him back to the present and when he looks up, he’s surprised it’s neither of the people he expected; not a smugly victorious Seungcheol or a stressed-out Doctor Park but a lanky teenager in a shirt and tie who had the audacity to look sheepish.

“Hi.” San says quietly. 

“Hey.” Hongjoong replies back, attempting a smile but knowing it comes across as a grimace, judging by the way San just stays awkwardly rooted in his spot. 

“Sorry….about your meeting. You probably had better things to do today.”

Hongjoong chuckles. “That’s what you’re sorry about? You’re not sorry about breaking a 10 million dollar NASA machine?”

San pokes at the gravel with the toe of his shoe and shrugs. “It was an old machine on it’s last legs anyway. It was going to die soon, especially with all the training we’ve been doing on it lately. That thing is older than me. Seonghwa took me to see it when I first came to NASA.”

Hongjoong recalls San’s story; of him being orphaned as a child, brought to NASA, taken in by a generous family...

Oh.

It suddenly explains so much.

“So, er, you and Doctor Park….” Hongjoong starts carefully, unsure how to really continue but really wanting to ask. San must have understood the silence because he takes a step closer, this time with a fond smile. 

“Professor Park adopted me in when I was little. Seonghwa has always been a brother to me.” The young pilot says. “NASA didn’t really like it, something about how unfair it was and they how thought I cheated my way in. Maybe I’m just good!”

Hongjoong laughs out loud at the arrogance of teenage hood. He’s heard this before because he probably said the exact same thing to Seungcheol once upon a time and earned a good cuff behind the ears. The laughter startles a smile out of San, whose shoulders relax a little. 

“Sit down.” Hongjoong says, patting the empty spot on the bench. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

Hongjoong fixes San with a withering look. “Steal your supposed brother’s security ID to break into a NASA facility and destroy one of their training simulators.”

There’s a smile that threatens to creep onto San’s face and if Hongjoong was a better role model he’d have felt the need to scold the teenager for it. 

He doesn't.

“I just swapped it for mine when he wasn’t looking.” San replies nonchalantly, like it was something so simple a mere child could do it and in fact, did. “He’s been so focused on the mission's projects, I figured he wasn’t going to notice for awhile-”

“Wait a second,” Hongjoong interrupts. “When was he not looking? He’s always looking. He looks at everything!”

San rolls his eyes. “It’s called being obsessed and hyper fixated actually. He gets into these zones and forgets everything else. You could set yourself on fire in front of him and he might not even notice.”

Hongjoong frowns at the thought of the other man burning himself out for this mission, only to front a meeting for something he didn’t even do. And yet, as he looks at the culprit beside him, he can’t really summon up anger or blame either. Not when he did the exact same thing himself a few years ago with far more expensive consequences.

“Why did you do it San?”

The young trainee shrugs. 

“San…”

There’s silence for a minute. It’s not as uncomfortable as Hongjoong was expecting. San plays with his restless hands before finally speaking again. 

“You said it could be done. I wanted to try and do it like you showed us but it never worked. I kept getting it wrong, over and over again.” 

“You’re a level 1 trainee. You’re not supposed to be getting every simulation right. That’s not the point of the training. That’s what the exams are for.”

“Well, I almost had it before the stupid thing started smoking and dying on me.” 

Against his better judgment, Hongjoong laughs. San, sensing he wasn’t going to get scolded again, chuckles along cautiously.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Hongjoong replies.

“Did they fire you again?”

Hongjoong shakes his head, unsure what to really say. "No, not quite."

"Oh good." San breathes out a sigh of relief. "So I didn't get you or Commander Choi in trouble? Will you still teach us?"

"We'll be fine but you got demoted San. I'm not sure who will be teaching your level now."

"I know." San mumbles miserably. "But if you had free time..."

"If I had free time and it was legally approved, then sure."

"But even if it wasn't technically legally approved-"

"You really are trying to get me fired again aren't you?"

***

It’s Doctor Park who finds them in the end.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” San replies at the same time Hongjoong nods, each unsure who the question was meant for. 

“Looks like there will be a lot of new changes soon.” Doctor Park says as he sits down on the bench. “For all of us.”

“I know.” San mumbles. “It’s so stupid I have to train with the level 2 kids. They’re so slow. I deserve to be with the level 1’s!”

“You are still a kid and you’re lucky they didn’t kick you off the program altogether.”

“I’m their best pilot!” San exclaims, looking at the only older brother he’s ever known. “Seonghwa, I was just trying to be better, I swear. That’s what they said they wanted! It’s so stupid I have to be held back for doing exactly what they wanted."

He has a point, Hongjoong thinks.

“That’s not the point.” Doctor Park says as he lets out a quiet weary sigh. It comes out so soft that Hongjoong has a hard time believing this is the same man who interrogated him a few months ago and won.

“Is….the Professor angry with me?” San asks tentatively.

“Angry?” Doctor Park smirks as he looks over. “He laughed for multiple minutes when I told him what you did. I guess breaking rules is in this family’s DNA.”

“But I’m adopted.” San points out. 

“Then it’s all my fault you’re a lunatic. You were raised by wolves and I’m the wolf mother.” 

The image of Doctor Park playing mother wolf to a wild teenage San flashes through Hongjoong’s mind and he can't to stop the bubble of laughter from escaping. They both look across at him in question and only slight judgement. 

“Um, I think we’re all to blame for this lunatic, Doctor Park. He’s been raised by a whole pack of wolves.” Hongjoong says with a chuckle. “I’m not exactly the best role model NASA has available.”

“Oh I am very aware of that.”

"No, he’s awesome Seonghwa!" San surges forward to object. "He taught me how to-“

“Anyway,” Hongjoong interrupts hastily, kicking at the teenager's foot to stop the incriminating rambling, even if he was warmed by San’s defence of him. If Doctor Park noticed, he doesn’t say anything and Hongjoong takes the opportunity to change the subject. 

“How is the professor? He didn’t come to the meeting.”

“My father was not feeling well this morning. He’s been updated on the outcomes.”

It’s an answer that is deliberately brief but firm enough not to invite any more questions. It does nothing to reassure him but Hongjoong doesn’t miss the microsecond of sadness that flashes across Doctor Park’s face, it doesn’t linger, few emotions do, and before anything more can be said, the impassive neutral mask is back on. 

“Please let him know I hope he recovers soon.” Hongjoong says.

“I will.” 

“Do you need-“

“We’re fine.”

“Okay.” Hongjoong nods, not pushing the matter. 

The air between them grows awkward, San must sense it because he’s looking between the two adults on either side of him, his prodigious mind no doubt whirring furiously as it tries to figure out the cause.

Not wanting to make it more awkward, Hongjoong stands up abruptly, nearly bumping into Doctor Park, who also stands up abruptly, both clearly having the same idea of ending this conversation but simply walking away. 

“I better get going.”

“So should we. Come on San, time to go home.”

San’s confusion clears enough for a mischievous expression to form on his face. “Can I drive?”

Both adults turn to him in unison. “NO.”

“I know how!” San cries.

Doctor Park rolls his eyes and nudges his adopted brother towards the car park. “Still no.”

“What am I going to do all day?" The teenager whines. "I don’t want to read and study anymore Seonghwa! It's so boring.”

And it’s then that the circus in Hongjoong’s brain spits out a thought he may live to regret. 

“Hey, if you want him to let off some steam, he’s welcome to join me on the farm with my brothers. We’ll be fixing some tractors today and could always use a hand. It might keep him out of trouble for awhile. Give you some peace and quiet?”

Doctor Park stops dead in his tracks, eyes uncertain but thoughtful as he considers the offer, no doubt overthinking about the 14 million possible ways it could all go wrong. Especially when San has just freshly broken a 10 million dollar government machine. 

The young criminal in question perks up like a puppy being offered a walk. 

“Wait, I can drive tractors! I know how. Seonghwa can I go?” 

“You don’t even officially have your driver’s licence yet.” Doctor Park points out. 

“Oh come on, it’s a tractor! You can't even speed in it.”

Hongjoong chooses his next words carefully, not wanting to overstep his boundaries or undermine the doctor’s parenting but if anyone knows a how to depressurise a hyperactive teenage genius, it's him.

“I have about 4 hectares of land out there, plenty of space, even if they crash. The tractors are really old and slow. My brother’s know how to handle themselves around them safely. I’ll be there to watch the whole time. I won’t let him get hurt.”

Doctor Park is silent as he looks from one pilot to the other. It's a piercing and uncomfortable gaze, heavy with both exasperation and adoration as it lands on San.

“Alright fine but I don't trust either of you with machinery right now. I will be coming along to supervise."

[daddyconcarne]

Rusty Tractor Vineyards Co-Owner Doug Meyer

Damn good looking man.