#i have like one more scene i want to fix up

[cutehoons02]

See you on the podium, sweetie!

*pairing: Lee Heeseung F1 Ferrari driver x PR

*trope: only one bed-bad boy Heeseung?

*driver: Lee Heeseung=Charles Leclcer

*synopsis: Being the PR of Ferrari has always been one of your biggest dreams but you would never have expected to find yourself working with Lee Heeseung, the representation of the driver that no sports PR would want to have: flirts with all the girls, is always paparazzato to parties around the world from MonteCarlo to Bali, breaks the heart of his fans miliary both because it is really beautiful and knows that he is but also for his aura untouchable because he is the chosen in house Ferrari. But there is a secret that is coming more and more to the surface, he can't sleep peacefully for months now both because of the countless haters he has in social media but also because he doesn't win a race for almost 6 months and from a driver Ferrari everyone expects more from him. What if the PR of Ferrari was the only one to calm him and put him to sleep? a shared bed, various hotels to travel around the world, beautiful tracks and countless podiums to win...

*tags: A lot of tension,fluffy, pervy Heeseung, a lot of humor, teasing, kissing, sucking, shower sex, unprotected sex (don't horny people) minor don't interect + 18, fingering, pubblic scenes,masturbation, pet names (sweetie, PR,good girl) (Hee) jealousy, possesion

11.4k (🌹)

Heeseung has just stepped out of his red-hot car, his eyes are tired but full of determination and while he takes off his helmet he sees his companions or "friends" on the podium while they spray rivers of Champagne and take a thousand photos for various social content with their trophies. He is trying to hide his frustration after another disappointing race by coming in P4, while reporters surround him when he enters the post-race space of the reporters. You were always flawless in your role as PR, and you make your way through the crowd with a firm step, a smile that hides a veil of sarcasm. As soon as Heeseung sees you, he smiles and looks up at you with his hair ruffled by sweat and helmet, trying to keep his "womanizer" attitude under control.

«Here’s my favorite PR, you’re always by my side, Y/n. I was wondering if this time you would cheer for me, or if I would see you clapping your hands for your little friend Jake or whatever for Jay» He said, leaning towards you as you were going to get in line to answer the questions of an Italian journalist.

"You don’t look like someone who needs my support, if you want I’ll show you how many girls cheer you up on ig sending you pictures at the osè. Rather, it seems you need a miracle both for how you drive and for your appearance. But don’t worry, I’m good at fixing things...at least those that aren’t about your ego." Heeseung smiled maliciously leaned on a slab leaned his head and looked at you with a defiant expression

«Ah, my ego. I didn’t think you liked it so much. Or maybe it’s just that you’re afraid I’ll win, so you should stay up like 24 hours a day to check every social or your mailbox if you find some pictures of me with not only my prize but also with girls and I do some shit?»

You took a step closer and looked him straight in the eye

"I don’t care to be in the middle of the action, Heeseung. I’m interested in you winning, finally, and bring a little joy to this team that works its ass every weekend. But the miracle you’re referring to is becoming more difficult. You are tired, aren’t you?"

«I’m not tired, Y/n. Just frustrated. I want to win for Ferrari, you know. But... it’s not easy.» closed his eyes for a moment because he was tired and could not wait to lie down on the plane.

«It’s not easy... when things don’t go as they should.»

You sighed and looked at him, he looked like a helpless puppy put in a cage of lions who would eat him and did not help the thick dark circles under his eyes.

"I know. But the pressure won’t help you run faster. Neither will your ego. Maybe you should just take a break... and maybe sleep a little since you haven’t slept more than 8 hours?"

Hee looked up at the sky and with an ironic smile said to you

«Yes, because sleep is the solution to all my problems, right? It’s not like I’ve been trying to sleep for the last couple of months... I tried natural herbal pills, medicines, anti-stress pillows, hypnosis, sleeping with Jungwon, sleeping in the motorhome, and other shit»

sighs and shakes his head

«But, of course, you keep giving me advice and making fun of me. I’m sure that another 'everything is fine, surely this evening you will be able to sleep' on your part will do me miracles.»

"I never made fun of you Heeseung and you know better than me that I’m worried about you. But since you’re so stubborn, maybe you should stop being a superhero and accept that even champions need a shoulder to lean on. You’re human too, Heeseung and sooner or later you’ll find a solution to your insomnia problem and you need to sleep at least a couple of hours even on the shoulder of a random person."

«So, are you suggesting that I fall asleep on your shoulder, Y/n? Weren’t you the one who didn’t want to be touched by anyone, would you grant me such an honor?» he looked at you amused as you raised your eyes.

"You’re a lost cause, Heeseung was a way of saying what I told you to sleep on someone’s shoulder. But don’t worry, if you want to fall asleep on my shoulder later in the plane, go ahead"

Heeseung looked at you amused and raised his hands in surrender

«Okay, okay, I give up. Let’s do it then. But if I can finally sleep, I’ll buy you a ticket for a concert of those Korean bands that you listen to.»

You opened your mouth slightly surprised by how much she knew about you and smiled but in a genuine way.

"Let’s give it all Heeseung, there is nothing to lose!"

The plane is almost empty, with a few team members sitting in the back of the cabin, some chatting, others resting. You were sitting by the window, immersed in reading a romance book that they were all talking about on #Booktok. The soft light of the plane illuminated the pages and your face was focused, as if you were living every word of history. Heeseung was sitting across the row and bored himself to death. He needed a distraction, so he got up and stood by you and took a sneak peek at the book.

«So, Y/n.. another of your love novels? I hope Prince Charming comes soon to save you because otherwise, you will find yourself at 50 years old still fantasizing in your house in the countryside full of cats»

"Are you always so sarcastic, Heeseung? Better to stay in a house full of super cute and cuddly cats than having a person like you in the house! You better not have your ego ever come up to the level of one of these books' protagonists, or you will never find your white horse or sword fighting to save your princess." You said without lifting your eyes from the book but with a funny smile

Heeseung made a gesture of stabbing his heart and looked at you with a grin.

«But come on, Y/n! Let’s be clear. Do you think that the Prince Charming of these books is really what happens in a relationship? With broken hearts and promises of eternal love? Please, what you read is practically unreal in this society»

You finally raised your eyes, raising an eyebrow and looking at him badly.

"I guess you’re more realistic. Instead of waiting for the prince charming, maybe you should accept that you are not invincible. And a Ferrari is not enough to change who you are, I know that inside you hide a boy with a thousand fears and that it could be the "prince charming" for at least one girl out there if you open your eyes and behave like a normal guy and not a womanizer." You said, touching slightly the part of his heart covered by a wide sweatshirt

Heeseung laughed, shaking his head and staring at you

«I wouldn’t say that I’m a 'prince charming' type, but at least I’m a driver. And with my talent when I have the high-performance car I’ll be the king of the track and maybe of history. There is no white horse, only racing tires and a roaring engine.»

You were slightly amused by his answer and returned with your eyes on your book.

"Ah, well, everyone has their way of feeling like a hero, but this year there is another hero on the track and that’s not you but Sunghoon with his Red Bull. But you can still think it’s all that easy if it makes you feel better."

Heeseung slightly leans to see the title of the book and looks for it on the internet and starts laughing reading that is a sport-romance about a hockey player and a kind of singer and the trope is "Enemis to lovers and Tutoring". While he was reading he felt his eyes getting tired and he hands his face and is jealous to see you so alert and focused even after countless hours of work.

«I will pretend not to have read the plot Y/ n, meanwhile I comment that it will be another book where the boy is perfect and has 0 weak points and represents perfection»

"If you think I’m looking for perfection, then you don’t know me at all, Heeseung."

With a fun air, moves a little closer to you, trying to peek better at the pages and have the opportunity to observe you.

«So what are you doing with these books, Y/n? It seems that you are waiting for your 'knight' but you know better than me that he does not exist in real life»

You looked at him for a moment, amused but also a little annoyed by his insistence. He moved even closer and kept on making jokes until you closed the book and looked at it with defiance.

"You’re unbearable, Heeseung. I read these books to escape from reality and find some peace and to have some laughs for what happens in these super romantic books but someone named Lee Heeseung does not leave me alone"

Heeseung raises his hands in surrender, but he can’t help laughing. After another minute of silence, he realizes that you had put on headphones and you were leaning with your eyes closed at the window and his expression softens, although it still does a little cynical fake.

«Okay, okay, enough with the jokes. Just... you’re right. I’m tired, and maybe I’m talking in vain. But seriously... a little rest would not hurt me.»

You felt his sincerity hidden under his facade, you can not help but shake your head.

"It was just a joke, Heeseung. I know you don’t like the idea of admitting that you need a break. But if you want to sleep, maybe you should get comfortable, instead of being condescending with me. Try to close your eyes and relax a little we have almost 3 hours more flight"

Heeseung, who has never liked to admit that he is vulnerable, tries to appear uninterested. But, after a few more minutes of tension, without thinking too much, it lets go and leans on your shoulder inspiring your sweet scent but at the same time floral.

Heeseung sighed, almost whispering.

«All right, all right... I give up. I don’t expect miracles... but maybe a little sleep.»

You were not completely surprised by that gesture but you looked at it for a moment and you said nothing. It’s more of a spontaneous gesture from Heeseung, who finally seems to admit he needs some peace.

After 10 minutes you were listening to Taylor Swift and chanting it in your head until you felt a slight breath next to your neck and opened your eyes and watched Heeseung sleeping, who breathed with a relaxed breath and even his face seemed relaxed rather looked completely abandoned to his sleep. You looked at him incredulously and a small smile formed on your face, and at that point, Jungwon, his teammate who had seen the whole scene from the other side of the plane, came up with a look of pure surprise.

<< Can’t believe it... really. This is a miracle, maybe we found the right cure or person for Heeseung. We were all completely stupid or unaware you were always here with us>

You looked slightly at Jungwon and I did no with my head

"I didn’t do anything he's just tired, Jungwon"

Jungwon shakes his head, watching Heeseung sleep peacefully for the first time in weeks, and looks at you with a grin.

Heeseung wakes up slowly after 3 hours, stretching with a slight groaning. He slept like he hadn’t done in weeks, but as he moved he felt a discomfort around his neck. He sits better in the seat and looks down...only to realize that his arm is wrapped around your waist. Even worse, her head is practically resting on your breast.

It freezes and the eyes open. His mind runs fast, trying to figure out how to make up for it and how he got to sleep leaning on you for hours. The image of him, sleeping in that position, seems compromising: He, the "great flirt", now transformed into a puppy that clings to you as if you were his pillow.

«Oh, my...sorry! I don’t know how... I didn’t mean to... I mean, it wasn’t intentional!» pulling out the arm with an unnatural speed

you had been motionless not to wake him up and you looked at him with a mixture of irritation and disbelief.

"It’s not like you can use people as a human pillow, Heeseung. I hope you slept well at least because I... don’t."

Hee looks at you with fawning eyes, a little embarrassed but sincerely sorry.

«I swear, I didn’t notice! It’s... well, you were comfortable and I hadn’t slept like this for an eternity...»

Before he can say anything else, the sound of a giggle interrupts him. Jungwon, sitting a short distance away, turned with a funny expression and a smartphone in his hand. It’s not hard to guess that he was watching the scene for a while.

<< Well, good to know. The solution to your sleep problems was not complicated Hee: you only need Y/n next to yourself as a human pillow!>> With a mischievous smirk looked at you and Heeseung

You gave Jungwon a look that could burn up a Ferrari engine, but he doesn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated. On the contrary, he turns completely towards you by placing his chin on a seat, ready to continue teasing.

"Don’t put yourself in it. It’s enough to put up with him, let alone you."

He raised his hands in surrender but with a glaring

<< Hey, come on Y/n, it was just a joke. But seriously, look how he’s been born again! I haven’t seen him this calm in months. Maybe your problem is already gone, Y/n is a kind of sleep talisman."

Heeseung, still red in the face, tries to answer but he gets stuck, clearly in trouble. He doesn’t know how to react: on the one hand, he would like to continue to be a bad boy, on the other hand, he feels like a child who has been caught in the act.

«Stop it Jungwon. It’s not like that! It’s not my fault I fell asleep and Y/n was just... there.»

<< Ah, sure. 'Just there.' So much 'just there' that you were wrapped like a koala around her. >> he said with a clever smirk

You were unaware of the situation and got up from your seat with a strong gesture, the book under your arm. She’s tired of both and ready to leave that embarrassing scene behind.

"Fantastic. You are a dream team I understand why everyone says that you are made for each other as a duo in Ferrari. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to prepare myself mentally for a new race weekend, who knows what dramas will come out." You said looking at Heeseung in particular

Jungwon turned to Heeseung and spoke

<< You know, I think Y/n could really be your medicine. Or at least, your antidote against insomnia. >

«But stop... It’s not like that. It was comfortable. And then maybe you’re right. I don’t know how, but I slept well."

Jungwon takes another photo with his phone, this time of Heeseung who seems thoughtful, and shakes his head laughing.

<< I don’t know, Hyung. I think Y/n is your good luck pillow. Maybe we should patent it as part of the team>>

«Come on, Jungwon. Let’s get off and stop taking pictures before Y/n finds you and destroys you.»

As they head for the exit, Heeseung is surprisingly in a good mood, despite the embarrassment. He would never admit it openly, but for the first time in a long time, he feels rested and even a little happier.

Montreal GP (Canada)

The afternoon light is perfect. The clear sky reflects on the calm water of the river, creating a dreamy backdrop for the Prada photo shoot. Heeseung and Jungwon, dressed in elegant suits and luxury shoes, pose with a surprising naturalness for two F1 drivers.

You were there as always on the go: setting up contracts, managing fans huddled behind the barriers, and overseeing every detail to ensure everything went smoothly. But as you turn, you notice Heeseung with an absent-minded look, sitting on a chair between one shot and another. The fatigue is on his face as the makeup artist approaches him with a flirtatious smile. Gently, he fixes his hair, then bends slightly to attract his attention.

'Looking forward to seeing you on the track, Heeseung. You’ll be great as always. Maybe you could bring me a special pass?'

Heeseung looks up, but can’t even pretend to smile. He puts his hand on his face, sighing.

«Yes, sure... thank you. But first I have to sleep at least five hours in a row without waking up if I want to be great on the circuit.»

The makeup artist, surprised, laughs nervously, thinking she is joking.

Well, then stop going out and about! That’s why you’re so tired, right?'

At those words, Heeseung slightly straightened up on the chair and looked at her with a serious expression, almost exasperated and a little annoyed because he wanted to be remembered as a Ferrari champion not as an obsessive from the parties.

«I haven’t been to a party in weeks. The last time I saw a club, they were still playing songs from last year. My problem is not dancing too much... it’s that even when I’m still, I can’t turn off my brain.»

The makeup artist seems to not know how to respond, and she quickly moves away, a little embarrassed.

On the other side of the set, Jungwon, who witnessed the scene, burst into a low-pitched laugh. You were engaged with a contract, lift your eyes in time to see Heeseung lean tired on the chair.

<< Hyung, I can’t believe it. You were so rough on her! You’d usually be the first to flirt with me, but I know your charm is slowly disappearing. >>

«Ah, yes? Flirting? Not even the way that word is written, Jungwon. I’m too tired to even think about it.» He said, standing with his hair and slapping himself on the face to wake up,

Jungwon keeps laughing but the joking tone fades when he sees how exhausted his teammate is. You approach him by observing.

"Heeseung, maybe you should take a day off after this shoot. It wouldn’t help anyone to see you collapse on the track Sunday, I’ll cut you off at a small event in Montreal"

«Thank you, Y/n. But every time I try to rest, it seems to me to waste time. As if I was wasting an opportunity to improve, I could train or I know how to watch the telemetry of the machine but the problem is that I am exhausted.»

You crossed your arms, looking at him with an expression that is halfway between reproach and understanding.

"You’re not wasting anything if you take care of yourself. And for the record, you look more dead than alive. Even the products and make-up artists of Prada cannot cover certain dark circles."

Jungwon laughs again, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

<< Y/n is right. Maybe you should seriously ask for a set of Prada pillows made extra-sized for you, maybe those help you sleep better. >

Heeseung giggles slightly, shaking his head. Despite the fatigue, he is grateful for the presence of the two. He would never admit it openly, but Jungwon’s irony and Y/n’s concern help him to keep his feet on the ground.

Heeseung stands up and stretches and looks at you.

«Don’t worry, I’ll sleep. Sooner or later and when I’m well rested before I beat all the competition on the track and then I’ll go to celebrate, Y/ n is for a while that there are no dramas about me or gossip!»

The free practice had gone surprisingly well. Heeseung had found a good pace, the team was satisfied, and even the journalists seemed less insistent. However, as he walked in the paddock towards the Ferrari camper, he looked like a rag. The dark circles were deeper than ever, and his movements showed how tired he was.

In the living room of the camper, Jay and Sunghoon were waiting for him and both had noticed that something was wrong, but they also knew that Heeseung hated to admit his weaknesses.

'Hey, Hyung. I got to show you something. Maybe I’ll give you some advice on how to be Pole tomorrow.' said Jay smiling with a grin

"I hope it’s a new race strategy because everything else is a blur."

Jay hands him the phone, showing a photo taken by Jungwon. In the image, Heeseung sleeps soundly with his head resting on your shoulder, his arm around your waist, while you look completely stiff and visibly uncomfortable.

'Look at this. The real winning strategy: it’s the human cushion. Maybe we should add it to the race plan for Sunday.'

Sunghoon, sitting a short distance away, bends forward to look at the picture better, bursting with laughter.

<< Oh my God, Hyung, you’re like a baby who can’t sleep without his favorite blanket! >>

"It’s not what it looks like! It was just... boh, a coincidence. I was tired and she was there."

'Sure? Because you don’t look so random in this picture. You look rather... comfortable.'

Sunghoon with a clever smile

<< Maybe you should do a scientific experiment. You know, to see if it’s your antidote. But to do it right, you should sleep with it. And I mean really sleep, not do the usual things you do with girls>>

Heeseung looks at him with an expression between amused and disoriented.

"You two are impossible. And no, it won’t happen. It’s Y/n, okay? She hates me enough without me asking her that."

But later that night, as he looked at the clock at 10:30 p.m., something stuck in his head. He really needed to sleep, and against all logic, he couldn’t get out of his mind the possibility that you could help him in some absurd way.

With a sigh and against his "values", he stood up and headed for the door of your room. Knocked twice, then leaned on the doorframe with his usual flirtatious grin, trying to look casual despite the heart beating hard and opened the door, crossing his arms and looking at him suspiciously

"What do you want, Heeseung? It’s late. Shouldn’t you be sleeping already?"

Hee bowed his head, a Playboy smile.

«I was thinking... maybe you want to keep me company. You know, let’s talk, read one of those romance books or something.»

You stared at him, raising an eyebrow. You know that tone and smile, and you usually can’t stand it but there’s something different in his eyes: there’s no usual security, and under that mask, he looks really tired and vulnerable.

"Heeseung, spit the toad. Why are you really here? I don’t think to talk about books."

«Okay, okay. You’re right. I just... can’t sleep, and the last time, on the plane, I slept so well. And I thought maybe...» he looked down, scratching his neck.

"...that sleeping next to me might help you again. I understand?"

«More or less. But don’t get me wrong! Nothing else, only of course if you also do not want to try something as beautiful as me. But this evening I just want to sleep. I swear.»

You would want to kick him out because you can’t stand him but at the same time he seems hurt if he came to you, one of the few people who stood up to him and that you didn’t fall into his flirtations. You sighed and opened the door to let him in.

"God, what am I doing wrong to deserve to see it 24 hours a day? If I agree, promise not to snore and not invade my side of the bed. If I catch you touching me"

Heeseung raised his hands in surrender and smiled at you

«Promised. I’ll be more discreet than a cat»

"If I regret this decision, I swear you will never see a contract signed by me again."

Heeseung smiles as he enters the room, but this time it’s a genuine smile, lifted. Maybe for once, she will let herself be helped.

You were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, with a seemingly endless collection of bottles and creams arranged neatly on the shelf. The Weeknd resonates in the background from your phone, filling the environment with the sensual notes of "Earned It".

On the other side of the room, Heeseung was leaning against the bathroom door, watching you with a funny curiosity. He’s not sure what he’s looking at: the complex skincare routine or you with only a slightly wide shirt and short shorts that made him go crazy.

«Are you sure you want the ticket for that Korean band of K-pop? Can I give you all this, god how much money are you spending on skincare, are you sure that everything you’re putting on your face is not... excessive?»

You raised an eyebrow while gently smearing a cream on your face

"Heeseung, if you could understand something more than soap and shampoo, maybe you wouldn’t have the skin of a 12-year-old under stress. These steps are necessary."

«Don’t overdo it. My skin is perfect as it is. But, tell me, is this all for me? Are you trying to impress me or is it for your future prince charming?»

You puff silently but can’t help but giggle as you grab another bottle.

"For you? Don’t make me laugh. I do it for myself and when I’m old I won’t need to get my face punctured. Although maybe you could learn something instead of standing there humming The Weeknd like a teenager in love."

Heeseung pretends to be offended, taking a hand to his heart.

«First of all, The Weeknd is also one of my favorite artists. Second, I’m not humming... I’m singing with passion.»

With a mischievous smile, he begins to hum the refrain of "Earned It", emphasizing the words with an overly intense look towards you:

«Cause, girl, you’re perfect... You’re always worth it... » Isn’t this a perfect song for both of us? You know, with your obsession for perfection and my natural charm?"

You stopped for a moment, staring at him with an expression that was somewhere in between fun and disbelief.

"Maybe you mean it’s a song about how hard it is to win someone’s favor? Yeah, maybe he’s in. But trust me, you’re not exactly the romantic protagonist he describes."

Heeseung laughs and leans over the sink next to you, staring at you as you put on eye cream with extreme precision.

«You know, if I were your romantic protagonist, I would be much more convincing than those perfect guys that you read in your books, I could make you feel the same things they make their "loved ones" feel but in a real way. And you wouldn’t need all these creams, I would make you shine naturally!»

You stared at him with an exasperated expression, but you could not help blushing slightly.

"Can you stop flirting for five minutes? Amazingly, you can find the energy to say this nonsense even when you seem on the verge of collapse."

Heeseung chuckles, raising his hands in surrender.

«All right, all right. But I know that underneath you like this whole Y/n thing, and you’d be super bored working with people like Jay or Sunghoon, right?»

You didn’t answer, just turning off the bathroom light and heading for bed. And he still follows you smiling.

As you lie down, with Heeseung visibly calmer but also a little stiff, you observe him from the underside.

"Why do you seem so uncomfortable? Has anyone ever asked you to just sleep with someone or do you always chase them away before trying to sleep?"

Heeseung moves slightly, staring at the ceiling. It’s hard for him to admit things, but you don’t let him out.

«It’s not exactly... what I’m used to.»

You can’t help laughing, covering your mouth with a hand so as not to wake up any neighbors.

"Relax, Heeseung. I won’t jump on you. You can relax for once in your life."

He turns to look at you, with an expression between the amused and the mortified.

«Thank you for the reassurance. Not that I was afraid! , you would rather sleep with a wolf than with me knowing you, Y/n»

"No, of course. You’re not afraid of anything. Except maybe to admit that sometimes you need someone."

That phrase leaves him speechless for a moment. But as he closes his eyes and finally lets go, he realizes that Y/n may be right.

The morning light was filtering through the window, illuminating the hotel room. You had been awake for a few minutes, but it hadn’t moved yet. You were held back by a strange feeling. Perhaps it was the weight of Heeseung’s arm that, while sleeping blessed beside you had moved too close to your breast.

You sighed, trying not to think too much. You simply had to move it without waking him, that’s all, and gently took his wrist, but at that moment Heeseung moved.

Instead of walking away, he murmured something incomprehensible and pulled you even closer to him, as if you were his personal stuffed animal. His hand, meanwhile, slipped under your shirt caressing the skin of your side in a distracted way, until its fingers reached your back, gently touching your spine.

You felt a shiver all over your body. It was a completely unexpected feeling and not to happen especially with Lee Heeseung.

"I can’t believe it. This is a nightmare. "

He, meanwhile, was sleeping soundly, with a puppy-like expression completely unaware that his head was resting close to your neck, the messy hair touching your skin and tickling you. You tried to move a little bit more but the grip tightened slightly and you held your breath. Heeseung moved slightly, his face sinking a little deeper into his neck.

«Where do you think you’re going?» He murmured in a husky voice, still soaked with sleep.

You felt a shiver running down your back. "I didn’t want to wake you," you whispered in a neutral tone.

He chuckled softly, a low laugh that vibrated against your skin. «Don’t worry... I wouldn’t wake up for anything in the world if it wasn’t for you.»

You looked up because even in the early morning he was flirting and there was always that usual pinch of mischief in his voice. Before you could answer, you felt his hand slip under your shirt, so slowly that it seemed studied.

"What are you doing?" you asked, trying to keep his cool.

He caressed your side uncovered, the touch light but enough to make you feel the skin burning. «I’m thanking my miracle cure» he replied. «I haven’t slept so well in months... and you made it all possible.»

You stiffened, but you did nothing to stop him. You felt Heeseung’s hand move gently as if he were trying to memorize every line of your body. The warmth of his fingers was almost hypnotic, and for a moment you let go, closing your eyes.

«You know, you should relax more often» he continued, his voice soft and sweet. «You are not like the others... And I like this.»

"Don’t be stupid, Heeseung, they’re not like those perfect models you hang out with. And anyway, I don’t like physical contact, so..."

Before you could finish the sentence you felt his slightly calloused fingers touch a cape and unintentionally you raised your back and he lifted his head, his dark eyes staring at you with an unexpected seriousness. «Don’t say nonsense», he slowly lifted your old pajama shirt and began to kiss you from the navel with light kisses until they reached your breast with one hand he squeezed it slightly and then laid his lips and started to tease you; he would lick it, slightly nibble it and hold it for you «You are beautiful, Y/n. More than you can imagine. And I don’t want you to get paranoid about these things, do we understand?» you nodded your head and Heeseung kept leaving little kisses all over your body and with his big hands he held one side of you and the other always a tit

You looked down, trying to hide the blush that was coloring your cheeks. "Heeseung..."

«Shhh» interrupted you, placing a finger on your lips. «I’m not flirting. Not this time, god this breast is made for my big hands and I want to make you feel like my dick is already hard just because of you, Y/n.»

You look uncertain, But there was something in his expression that made him soften and he laid slightly above you with a quick movement he rubbed his length into your pussy still covered by some short shorts and succinus misery was hard, and for those few seconds. You heard it could have been imagined that it was also great. "Look, if you want to thank me, do it by winning on Sunday, okay?"

He laughed softly, a laugh that seemed to dispel all tension. «All right, boss, but if I win I want something in return» You saw how he looked at your whole body and after a while stood up and winked at you before leaving.

Heeseung, who has just left his P2 qualification, heads to the interview area with contagious energy, ready to do his usual show. He’s smiling, charming, and was terribly annoying to you.

You were a few steps away from him, with your phone in hand, recording every word to avoid misunderstandings or fractions that could turn into tabloid headlines. But as Heeseung was getting in front of the cameras you knew he wanted to make a show.

The first journalist hands him the microphone, smiling.

Journalist 1 :

"Heeseung, you missed the pole by a few tenths. Do you think the race step will be enough to turn things around tomorrow?"

Heeseung :

'Sure, tomorrow I’ll give it all. But if you want to know my strategy in detail... I promise that I’ll explain it to you, as long as it brings me luck.'

The emphasis on the word "luck" is accompanied by a wink that makes half of the room laugh. You snort loudly, attracting the attention of one of the press officers who looks at her confused.

With the second journalist, however, Heeseung is at his best.

Journalist 2 :

"Tomorrow will be a tough race. Sunghoon seems to have an advantage, but do you think it will be a duel between the two of you?"

Heeseung :

(with a mischievous smile)

'My duel is always with Sunghoon, but you know what? If I had you by my side at the wall box, I would win without problems.'

You put down the phone with an incredulous expression, mumbling.

"Eight hours of sleep and he’s already turned into the usual serial flirter. I should have kept him awake."

When Heeseung comes back to you, visibly satisfied with himself you stare at him.

"Congratulations on the qualification, Casanova. But if you don’t win tomorrow, I swear I’ll take that microphone and make you eat it."

«Calm Y/n, you should be as refreshed as you were this morning with me! It was just to keep the atmosphere light, in this place they are all so boring and obsessive with the coldness of Sunghoon."

You slapped him lightly and pursed his keys.

"Relax, of course. Too bad I have to answer your fans in delirium on Twitter.»

You were a bundle of nerves sitting in the Ferrari box watching the race of Heeseung. From the start, Sunghoon had taken the lead, taking full advantage of the straight speed of his Red Bull but Heeseung, however, kept calm, studying every corner of the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, known for its technical braking and the famous "esse" of the Casino.

The decisive moment came in the last ten laps, when a small collision caused two cars to come out and the Virtual Safety Car came out that allowed Heeseung to switch to softer and fresher tires. Upon returning to the track Hee flew with his red fire car and showed all his power and agility, bend after bend began to gnaw the advantage of Sunghoon.

With three laps to go, the overtaking reached the final chicane just before the Champions Wall. With a breakaway at the limit, Heeseung joined Sunghoon and, despite fierce resistance, took the lead in the race with an impeccable trajectory.

Crossing the finish line in first position, you had tears in your eyes because it was 6 months since you did not win and the whole team hugged you and you ran under the podium.

On the podium, his smile was brighter than the sun reflecting on the gold trophy. He sprayed champagne with a contagious energy, wetting Sunghoon, who laughed defeated, and Jungwon, who occupied the third step. You watched from the edge of the track, crossing your arms but with a smug smile.

"He’s finally back to win, at least now he’ll stop tormenting me for how much he missed winning." You muttered in a low voice

When the celebrations on the podium ended, the group headed towards the river near the circuit, a special tradition to celebrate Canadian Grand Prix victories. The crowd of fans had already gathered along the banks, shouting and cheering as the drivers and team approached the water.

Heeseung was euphoric, almost in a trance. With a sure gesture, he unlaced the top of the pilot’s suit, letting it fall on his hips and with a fluid movement, he also took off his shirt, revealing his sculpted chest and toned muscles under the sunlight.

The crowd exploded in shouts and applause, as dozens of phones took photos and recorded videos.

You stopped suddenly when Hee took off her shirt and your eyes were fixed on the slightly tanned skin but especially in his toning muscles that covered all of his toned body.

"Oh. My God. Really? Did he have to take off his shirt? Wasn’t the Playboy smile and the Greek statue body enough? This is ridiculous, tomorrow there will be all the social media invaded by him." you said in a low voice not making you heard from anyone.

You tried to look away, but your eyes inevitably returned to follow every movement of Heeseung. The sun was shining on his skin, and the champagne drops from the podium were still visible. He ran his hand through his hair, wet and messy, before approaching the edge of the river.

Heeseung turned to you with a provocative smile, having noticed your eyes following him before he jumped into the river and yelled at you.

«Y/n! What are you doing there all serious? You’re not judging me, are you? Come on, admit it, this physique is not bad, right?»

"I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to figure out if you have a social media contract, since every move you make ends on the net!"

Heeseung gets up, diving into the water with a spectacular dive. When he emerged, he passed his hands over his face and hair, casting another amused look, and winked at you.

When he got back to the small wooden pier he came close to you who had a light towel and looked at you with a smile that would have made thousands of his fans crazy but it was only for you at that moment and with a little laugh she undid her head and small drops of water mixed with champagne they flooded your body and a slight redness took possession of your cheeks and you thought:

"This guy will drive me crazy. And not in the professional sense of the term."

«So? Have you seen something that you like?»

"Yes. Your suit, which for some reason you’re not wearing. Do you want a tip? Get back to putting it on, before someone makes an awkward photo montage."

Heeseung laughed

«You’re too stiff, Y/n. Should you relax a little bit by maybe taking a bath... with me?»

You pointed your finger at his still-wet chest.

"Keep it up, Heeseung, and you’ll see that the next bathroom is with the whole PR team, but to save yourself from trouble."

«All right, all right! Only because today you were my medicine even off the track.»

When you returned to the hotel, you promised yourself to ignore him for the rest of the day. But as he walked before you, you could not help but take one last look at his carved back.

"There is no hope. This guy is a continuous temptation the red devil."

It was Saturday night and you were finally enjoying some relaxation at home, away from the chaos of paddocks, interviews, and especially Heeseung. You had dinner with your friends and after weeks of going through the circuits, you felt like a normal person for a moment. But, of course, your phone decided to remind you who you really were: the PR of the most problematic (and irresistible) driver of the moment.

While your friends were laughing at another joke you saw the phone screen light up with the name you feared most: "Heeseung".

With a heavy sigh, you already know that you would never spend a quiet evening.

"What do you want, Hee?"

On the other end of the line, Heeseung seemed agitated, almost desperate and there was music in the background.

'Y/n! Thank goodness you answered. Look, I went out with Jake and Jay at the Twiga, just to relax a bit, nothing like that... but a paparazzo caught me with a glass of wine while talking to a fan.'

You closed your eyes, holding back an exasperated groaning

So? Where’s the problem, Heeseung? It’s not the first time you've ended up in these situations, by now people know that you have lived off the track and that you go to have fun and I doubt it will be the last.'

'Y/n, it’s not like it seems, and don’t get mad! I was just having a chat, I swear. The fan came over, asked me for a picture, and then he said something to my ear. But I promise you, nothing strange! Just that, you know how paparazzi are, It seemed... well she was kissing me"

You feel a mixture of frustration and resignation grow inside you.

"Heeseung, I don’t need to know the details. Really. You can do what you want with girls, it’s not my business but I’m just tired of this situation..."

On the other side, there was a moment of silence. Then, Heeseung spoke in an unusually serious tone.

'Y/n... Nothing happened. Really. You know I don’t want to ruin everything with this nonsense especially now that I’m adjusting the rhythm on the track." You got up from the restaurant table, away from your friends to find a quiet corner.

"So, if there was nothing, why are you calling me? You know I’ll do what I always do: I’ll fix the situation, I’ll make the photos disappear, and keep your image intact. But, honestly, I’m starting to think you enjoy making me feel bad, every time I’m not with you you always do one."

On the other side of the line, Heeseung looked almost wounded.

'This not so. I know I give you a lot of work, but I didn’t want this thing to come to you. I just... I trust you. And I don’t want you to think bad of me.'

"I don’t think badly of you, Heeseung. It’s my job. Only... sometimes it would be nice to spend a Saturday without having to make up for something."

Sorry. I do. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again."

"All right. Send me everything: photos, videos, anything that can help me solve it. And, Heeseung... Maybe next time you won’t get too close to anyone, even just to talk. You know that it takes one click to blow up the internet."

Heeseung laughed slightly but in a sincere tone

"Promise. Thank you, y/n. You’re the best, you know?"

"I know. And now leave me alone, I want to finish the evening without any more surprises."

All right, all right. Good evening...and don’t think too much, see you in Belgium.'

You hung up and snorted, god could not stand it when it was like that and the words of Jay resonated in your head << You know that Mercedes is looking for a PR for next season, if Heeseung makes you work even when you shouldn’t think about it because I don’t cause trouble and my other teammate too>

Spa Gp (Belgium)

The Friday and Saturday passed quickly, between technical briefings and free practice. Spa was a track that gave many riders the creeps, but Heeseung loved it. The fast curves, the slopes, the iconic Eau Rouge: it was everything he loved about racing and gave him that adrenaline that made him vibrate with its light.

When the time came for qualifying, Heeseung looked like a man on a mission. The atmosphere in the paddock was tense, dark clouds over the circuit threatened rain, but he was as concentrated as ever. He got into the car, ready to give his all and take another pole position because he was a magician in the dry ride.

In the first fast lap, he had already shown that he was fit. He was clean, precise, and almost surgical in his trajectories and his radio engineer was enthusiastic.

Engineer :

"P1 for now, Hee! Great job, but Jay is behind by a tenth."

His second lap was even more impressive. He passed the Eau Rouge with the gas completely open, the car seemed to dance under him. In the final part of the track, under a sky now black as ink, he managed to gain more fundamental milliseconds.

When he crossed the finish line, the clock was clear: he was in pole position.

Engineer :

"P1 ! Pole position! Heeseung! You’re a monster!"

Heeseung banged his hands on the steering wheel for happiness and when he turned on the radio he shouted 'P1 baby! The car is a lightning bolt I can’t wait for tomorrow to fight for victory.

At the finish line, Heeseung raised his fist as he stepped out of the car in victory, while everyone in the Ferrari pit was exploding with cries of joy.

After qualifying you were back in the Ferrari motorhome, watching the replay of Heeseung’s lap. It was amazing, as always. But you couldn’t share the team’s enthusiasm.

When he came back, still euphoric, he approached you with that smile that usually could melt anyone.

«So, my favorite PR what does she think about the ride? Impressive, right?»

He passed you to go up in his motorhome with crossed arms.

"Yes, it was a good lap. But we’ll see tomorrow in the race. Pole doesn’t count if you don’t take the result home."

Heeseung froze, slightly surprised by the coldness in your voice.

«Wow, you are the queen of the tifo, eh? Come on, Y/n a little enthusiasm! I gave everything today and it’s not everyone to pole at Spa!» You raised an eyebrow, keeping your icy gaze.

"Heeseung, you know that what you do on the track is great, and don’t need me to tell you, you’re fated and if it’s not this year next year you’ll be fighting for the world championship."

He stopped, surprised by your voice. He had noticed the hardness of your words and never had seen you so distant.

«Come on, don’t do that. What’s wrong?»

You were unable to hold back, opened the door of his motorhome room, and entered both.

"You’re treating me like a puppet, Heeseung! Every weekend it’s the same! You get what you want, flirting with everyone, and you always get in trouble, the executives of Ferrari call me to solve your problems even during weekends off. I’m tired of being your PR!"

Heeseung tried to approach, but you stopped him with a cold look.

"I want to look around. Maybe it’s time I had a chat with someone like Jay or Sunghoon, see if in Mercedes or Red Bull they treat me as a person and not as a slave of your ego."

Your words struck Heeseung like a stab. His heart stopped for a moment, and an unexpected wave of jealousy swept over him without warning. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The idea that you could look around, away from him, drove him crazy.

Hee this time approached you and with a low, furious voice said to you

«Don’t make me say what I think. Don’t test me.»

He had an expression of anger on his face and you did not back down, rather challenged him with your gaze with the same intensity. The tension between you was palpable, the air seemed to overheat. Then, in a sudden and determined movement, Heeseung grabbed you by the wrists and pushed you against the wall.

«If you think that someone else looks at you like this or that you deserve in their life you are wrong, now I’ll show you what it means to be with me, Y/n.»

His warm breath touched your skin, and you were paralyzed for a moment. But there was no fear in his eyes. Only anger and frustration.

"What do you want from me, Heeseung? Why can’t you treat me like a person?" And I pushed him slightly to run away from him

His body was contracting, but at that moment something in Heeseung snapped. He wanted you, only you, and felt the anger grow inside him like a fire. He came even closer, so much so that his breath felt caress your skin. Then, without warning, he kissed you with force.

The kiss was intense, almost violent as if trying to communicate everything we could not say. Heeseung’s mouth moves against yours with a rush that surprised you but however much you wanted to resist, you couldn’t ignore the attraction between you two, that tension that had bound you from the beginning.

He gently pulls your hair with one hand and holds your jaw with the other, deepening the kiss, practically sticking his tongue in your mouth and establishing dominance from the beginning, Your hands fall on his muscular shoulders and you draw him closer to you and your hips come desperately close to his to quench your thirst. It is a huge boost to his ego of Heeseung when he hears you moan something indestructible and with his big brawn lifts you slightly and puts you in the small raised bed where before the race they did the massages, you slightly spread your legs with one hand and stands between you two. You had the perfect hair, the cherry lip dye that you used to use in your face, the chest that lifts and lowers, and the icing on the cake for Heeseung was to see you wearing a bra as sexy and red as his car as well as his favorite color.

« Fuck, did you do it on purpose to wear this bra? Who would have thought that my PR wore sexy braces so short that she didn’t look like a good girl anymore.»

Heeseung had begun to attack your neck, his lips clinging to every inch of your skin and leaving beautiful red marks. You would tell him to be careful not to make them too evident but you were in a state of trance and pleasure when you felt a hand of Hee come down where your little skirt was to slightly pinch your thighs full, Until he made little circles inside your already slightly wet panties and starts rubbing against his hand, not caring how Hee couldn’t help but smile as he moved his lips towards your full bosom.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible before catching one of your nipples in his mouth and slowly pulling him into the tufts that he had long for his mullet haircut.

"I am not your property, Heeseung. You do not own me. I will never be." You heard a light laugh coming from the boy who was sucking your nipples in his closet and this time he pinched the flesh of your thigh and screamed from pain but also from excitement. " Heeseung"

Hee laughed and his hands found the edge of your red Ferrari skirt that you had to use as a uniform during the summer gp and thanked the stylist for giving him this opportunity to touch you thanks to that skirt.

«Mmm, if you weren’t mine you wouldn’t be here moaning my name Sweetie! See your panties wear my favorite PR» Heeseung saw that you had a red lace outfit even underneath your panties and formed a grin bowed slightly and took one of your legs if he put it over his shoulder and with his fingers slightly calloused you he moved his panties and smiled when he saw you were already totally soaked for him.

You leaned against the cold wall while Hee put two fingers in. At first, he was slow and careful. He wanted to give you the chance to back off if you didn’t feel comfortable enough to do all this with him but when he realized that you really wanted it, he allowed himself to relax and start his work. His steady rhythm did not last long: every second that passed, he pushed only faster, wishing to hear you groan again and again. He kept looking up from your chest, watching your expressions and smiling to himself as he alternated sucking your breasts, especially your full and hard buds, and left marks everywhere in your body. You began to move your hips towards his hand, desperately chasing even more pleasure.

His fingers went deeper and from your mouth came sounds that Heeseung was ecstatic and thought every time he touched himself when he thought of you.

«Tell me,» said Heeseung. You heard it but did not answer. «What it’s like to get fingered by a guy you can’t stand but at the same time that makes you feel all these feelings and we’re doing it where everyone could hear or see us, Y/N!» you have silenced Hee by quickly pulling his hair, your free hand clings to his shoulders, your nails are embedded in the skin exposed by his toned and muscular physique for the many hours of training.

"Hee...it’s so beautiful" you replied moaning and the boy next to you was overwhelmed with adrenaline and groans for praise. You were soaked and with the thumb tickled even more your clitoris and did not stop giving pleasure just as you were about to reach orgasm Heeseung believed that he came too while he felt liquid wet boxer shorts and had slightly hard balls. It hides its face in the hollow of your neck, now stimulating your clitoris with its thumb and making you go into a frenzy.

«Come for me», mumbles right against your ear. A shiver runs through your back before you succumb and the knot in your stomach melts. Heeseung kept you while you were coming, trying with all his might not to go with you because not only would it be embarrassing but also because you would surely have made fun of him.

Heeseung pulled out his fingers once you calmed down. You smiled because you still did not have the energy to talk and say what you thought about everything that happened in that closet...nor did you have the energy to do anything else. Heeseung smiled at you with a grin as he was busy wiping his fingers using his mouth, naturally and winked at you and his look became darker, more intense, and without saying a word, he slowly released it. He pulled down your skirt and went to get the shirt that he had taken off and put it back on you as if you were his favorite doll and put in your ear gently a fluttering tuft that you had in your hair and slightly lowered to your ear and said «It doesn’t end here, Y/n. You are mine and you will be forever»

In Belgium Heeseung won the race and in Hungary, things went well for Hee came p3 but Y/n did not want to sleep with him or stay next to him for that 2 gp pretended that nothing happened between them two and stayed as much as possible with Jungwon. In Holland, Hee felt very tired and wanted to sleep with Y/n but both he and she were embarrassed and they were mostly stubborn, which was a disaster for the Ferrari in general Hee went crashed and when he came back in his boxer pissed and looked coldly Y/n, He absolutely wanted to talk with you but before there were the briefing and interviews to do and when he arrived in the room was exhausted and slept and no 4 hours, on Sunday they arrived in the points area miraculously both him and Jungwon. He just wanted to relax and find a way to talk to you and perhaps knowing all your habits knew where you were at that time and a small smile took possession of his face.

He knew you were probably in the pool, as you often did after a hard day, trying to relax. When he arrived he saw you swimming smoothly, your arms drawing elegant lines in the water, fully concentrated as if you were trying to clear your mind. Heeseung watched your body move, as usual, but this time it wasn’t just admiration. There was desire, anger, and a strange feeling of possessiveness that he could not suppress.

He approached slowly, his heart beating fast and when you noticed him you stopped looking at him with that mix of confusion and challenge that he liked so much but now it seemed more difficult to face. Without thinking too much, he took off his shirt, despite the back pain, and immersed himself in the water with determination. Every fiber of his body cried against his physical state, but he wanted you close.

«Don’t run away, Y/n. I’m tired of playing these games»

You tried to get away but Heeseung reached out, took you by the wrist, and held you firmly. His warm breath touched your skin and you felt a shiver run down your back. You were trapped, but not in the way he thought. It wasn’t fear, you were confused by all the feelings you had for him.

«Why don’t you look at me? I won’t let you go and you know it. I want to see you give in.» You stared at it, and the beating of your heart increased while your body struggled between the desire to escape and the attraction that felt growing. Then, without warning, Heeseung came even closer, his hands touching you gently, but with an intensity that left no doubt. It slid down your skin, from arms to hips, and you couldn’t help but feel that sensation.

«You are mine, Y/n. You always have been, only you don’t want to admit it.»

His words were a sweet poison, a game you no longer knew how to play. You felt Heeseung’s hands touching you in a possessive way, as if he wanted to mark you as if he wanted to remind you that despite your attempts to get away from him you had never been truly free of him.

You tried to push him away but Heeseung wouldn’t let go. With a quick movement, he kissed you. It wasn’t a sweet kiss, but a violent one. His lips pressed against yours with urgency, while Heeseung’s hands went into your legs and carried them around her waist. You pushed him slightly, but he, with a cry choked by desire and frustration, pulled you even closer and you tied your arms around his floor.

«Don’t pretend that it doesn’t drive you crazy. I know what you want. I can see it in your eyes.»

You looked up and started to pull his hair slightly while he sucked your neck and bit it slightly and between the breathless breaths you said:

"You can’t... you can’t... not with me, I don’t want to be another one of your stupid awards. I’m more than this Heeseung."

Heeseung kissed you again, but with a fierce rage as if he was trying to take possession not only of your body but also of your soul.

«I need you Y/n, not as my prize but as my girlfriend. God, from the first day I saw you, you drive me crazy, you’re the only one who can hold my head, the only one who hates my flirting, and the only one who can understand me and see not only the F1 driver but also my most vulnerable part» You felt your heart beat like crazy and you did yes with your head and while accompanying you in his room he never took off his hands from your body and when you reached his room immediately pushed you into his large bathroom where from the large window of saw all the panorama of the city and the sunset in the darkness.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, feel his gaze crossing your face. His eyes stopped on your lips and smiled again, With the air of fun and when he put you under the jet of water shivered a little until you felt the big hands of Heeseung soapy gently all over your body and made you a small soap bubble by pressing lightly a jar of soap to relieve the tension between you two and when he saw you laugh slightly he hugged you and washed your hair gently. «God, how good it is to feel the bath foam I use on you Y/n, I can not wait to fuck you and to smell your scent against mine» he leaned forward, catching your lips in another kiss and you moaned needy in his mouth, pressing your hips against his and he unlaced the little triangle costume you had and when your breast came out with one hand he held you still and with the other started to bite your sensitive bud both because of the excitement but also of the hot water coming down and It gave you slight chills After a while he moved to release the piece under your bra and bent slightly. You groaned as his teeth sank into your thigh, giving a strong sucking so as to leave its mark. " I guess I won’t wear skirts and shorts so soon I’ll have to put on the autumn uniform even with 30 degrees..." You didn’t mean it because God, wanted everyone to see the signs that he left for you.

«I guess not, every time I saw you in that red-hot skirt I always felt my cock getting hard because of you» he growled as he left you some more lollipops along the inside of your thighs, enjoying how you were writhing under him and groaning his name.

His tongue slid along the outer part of your pussy, flattening against the length, then sliding his tongue up and down the crack, plunging just past the entrance to your core. The little jolts and tremors that flowed through your body, together with your choking moans and high-pitched whimpers were absolute perfection for his ears, and Hee turned off the hot water and buried her face as deep as possible. It was intoxicating, the taste of your pussy, sweet and slimy with your excitement, and practically drooling on it was seriously fucked by your body, how you moaned his name, how you teased him every day, and how only you could understand it and have it all for yourself.

«I thought you couldn’t stand me or to be honest that you hated me at the beginning of the F1 season but now look at you are here moaning my name» You pulled Heeseung’s hair slightly and said, "I never hated you, but sometimes you’re so damn annoying that it’s hard to be your PR or stand by you."

"God, please," you complained, the voice that grew faint in a slight groan at the end as Hee ate your soggy pussy as if there was no tomorrow. Until then you had forgotten what pleasure was. His long callused fingers surrounded your wet pussy hole, pushing past your folds to massage against the tensed muscle with every dive of her mouth.

"Hee is even more beautiful than last time, please!" Your back bowed against the cold shower tiles, eyes closed and a low moan in your throat, your body quickly reached the point of no return. «Come for me, Sweetie, only for me»

You pushed your hips forward, rubbing you but you were ripped from that moment of pure bliss when he stuck a long finger inside you and shoved it back and forth quickly pumping it.

His name slipped from your lips in a whisper, his fingers stopped half-thrust. Your pussy was shaking around his finger and kept moving his hand through the bedtime shocks, letting the moment of bliss last as long as possible, watching you keep on wailing and wailing as you came.

«You are so beautiful, Y/n», he whispered as he slowly kissed your lips, his eyes kept wandering up and down the length of your naked figure and he turned on the water and trembled at the contact next to him. " I need you, Hee, please" You started to pump slightly its length and smiled at you «Mm, my favorite PR that asks me to be his, who would ever have thought that my impure dreams become real?» He smiled and leaned forward again, kissing you with small kisses on the neck. His free hand wandered on the lower part of your back caressing your bottom.

«Do you trust me?» you made a sign of yes and slowly took you in his arms and slammed you against the cold shower tiles and slowly with a dry push slid its full length inside you in one single strong and decisive blow and you yelled slightly for the cold contact of the wall and its length within you.

"Hee" you mumbled his name, your legs were wrapped around his hips, and his cock kept diving into you, encountering your desperate whimpers as your hands clenched around his strong biceps that held you tight. Heeseung cursed and dropped his face in your neck and drops of boiling water fell between your bodies and moved a lock of hair from Heeseung and groan pressed against your neck when he took another push.

«Holy shit, why we have not done it before, this body, this pussy is made only for and for no other man» You writhed in place as his hand was clinging to your thigh and around the curve of your back. "Heeseung".

«Fuck Y/n, say my name again, like that. You’re so fucking beautiful with my dick inside of you.» His forehead leaned against yours, nibbling your lower lip, and told you something you would never think of hearing in your life «I love you so much, you make me crazy from morning to night, only you can» He pushed his hips into your tighter hole stronger.

"I love you too, I don’t know...how it happened or when" his lips kissed you avidly, passionately, moving as sharply as her thrusts, Water slippery and you felt his thumb tickling your clitoris, and small moans of pleasure came out of your lips when with a sharp push hit your G-spot.

«Let go, Sweetie, come everywhere on my dick like a good girl you are!» It takes a couple of long, powerful thrusts before you find yourself yelling his name, coming hard on his dick. Your hips are contracting as his cock is sticking deep inside you, The sperm splashes into you and you feel so good after so long after a while Heeseung comes out of you and holds you against his chest, and leaves you some slight caresses that start from the bottom of your back to reach your hips.

«Are you all right? Or was it too much for you, sweetie?» Look up slightly and see him for the first time with a sincere smile, his hair all ruffled and attached to the forehead and with red cheeks because of the heat.

"it was perfect but don’t get your head in the sand, already your ego is big enough, and maybe something else too" You looked slightly down embarrassed, and after a little bit felt Heeseung’s hands take your face and kiss you with lips. «I have to tell you a secret but also you, don’t get too excited» You looked curious and felt his breath next to your ear and said «You’re better than a race won on the last lap»

OMG🌹 i hope you enjoyed this story. Heeseung in my head gives me too many vibes from Ferrari driver, comments are appreciated and also reblogs.

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

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The halls of the museum felt like a trap of a maze, the walls squeezing on you as you walked through them, you on your now fiancé’s arm as you viewed the art galleries and exhibits and all while avoiding your family members that you spotted in the halls, but you still felt their judgment and glares, the only two who were not there were Jason and Cassandra, must have been covering the patrols and well you remember Jason did not really attend these things since his whole dying thing sort of made public appearances rather difficult for him. You spotted Dick and Barbara in the Greek and Roman art exhibit, when Dick spotted you he looked like he was about to cry and Barbara held onto his hand, keeping him from breaking out into a whole scene and panic attack. You spotted Tim holding Damian by the back of his suit jacket when he spotted you with you future husband in the modern art hall, remembering the first time he saw you and your boyfriend making out in the back stairwell of your old high school, he nearly gave him a concussion when he slammed Gabriel against the wall and threatened his life, god can only imagine what he would do now. Stephanie was with Bruce, you spotted them soon after your arrival near the entrance hall of the museum, whispering in hushed tones most likely about you. You had yet to see Duke, but you could bet he was somewhere around here, he was somewhat newer to the family, coming around when you were around ten and have been living in the manor for two or three years and he was around sixteen, but certainly he was no different from the rest of them, his tendencies just hidden better.

You stood sat on one of the benches in the European art hall, a flute of champagne in your hand as your eyes viewed over one of the paintings by Gustav Klimt, an Austrian painter, you remembered it was your mother’s favorite painting which was visiting the museum, the Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I. You felt the weight of the bench shift as your fiancé came to sit down behind you after conversing with a few colleagues of his family’s business.

“My mother would have loved seeing this again.” You said, your head not even turning in to look at him, just fixed on the painting. “My mom took me to see it in its home exhibit in Neue Galerie New York and we just sat and looked at it for hours, I was six but I have never felt more stunned at something.”

“Maybe we can invite her to the wedding… if she can come.” He said, his hand resting on top of your free hand on your thigh. “But dove… there are some people who want to talk to you.”

“Gabriel, I really don’t want to see my family right now-“

“It’s not your father.” Your fiancé’s words caught your attention and you looked at him to see him gesture to someone standing in the surprisingly empty archway of the exhibit entrance. A slight feeling of shock formed in your chest as you saw a blonde haired man in another of one of those expensive suits.

“Mr. Queen… It has been awhile.” You forced yourself to stand up and walk towards the face you knew well, the billionaire Oliver Queen, known to few as the Green Arrow, a member of the Justice League, and someone who has known you for years. “I thought you would be back in Star City, not here.”

“I’m sponsoring one of the exhibits tonight, an appearance from me was sort of called for.” He reached out his arm for you to take, glancing back at your fiancé. “May I borrow her? My congratulations on your engagement by the way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Queen, and yes you may just bring her back.” With Gabriel’s words you took Oliver’s arm and the two of you walked further into the mostly empty gallery, only a person or two lingering about but they were either drunk or two far away to hear your conversation.

“You’re not just here for the exhibit, coming across the country just for this and leaving Star City.” You spoke to him, your mind snapping back to the warning Talia gave you a few weeks prior, something was happening and it was even bigger than you thought. “This is League business, isn’t it? Who else is here?”

“You sound like your old man, you know that right?” You shot a glare at Oliver after he said that, which made him regret that comment. “You are right, at the moment it is just your dad, my wife, and myself here, a few others are on call at the moment in case anything goes south.”

“Let me guess, Kent and Allen? They are the only two fast enough to get here in time.”

“Right again, but chances are it is not that extreme, something we can keep isolated to just Gotham.” You watched Oliver look down at you and a sigh escaped his lips. “I heard about what you have been up to during these last few years, Barbara was talking about it with Dinah and Helena.”

“Now they know, great…” You sighed, now it was not long before the Bird of Prey got involved with this as well, though you doubt someone like Helena or Selina would give you much trouble, especially since Selina Kyle was friends with your mother. “Look I really don’t want to get in your way or their way, so I just really don’t want to start any trouble with any of them.”

“Trouble, you based your style off of Dinah, she could not feel more flattered.” You did in fact base your style of your suit off of the famous heroine, albeit a more modest version since your family would be more disappointed if you dressed entirely like her. “I think the press also picked up on that, that’s where Songbird came from, right?”

“Ya… I didn’t think about it like that…” You paused, you had thought it was only from the press thinking you were involved with the Batman, Robin, Nightwing, bird and bat named heroes. You had never thought that it was actually linked to the one who inspired you, your own hero and idol, Black Canary. “I thought it was just linked to, you know, my old man… I don’t think I mind it as much after hearing that.”

“I thought that would be the case.” He laughed and you felt his arm slip away from yours, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “I have been watching the work you have been doing recently, if you want to do this then you have an ally with Dinah and myself. If Gotham does not suit you, I’m sure we would be happy enough to work with you in Star City.”

“Thanks… that means a lot.” You said to him, glancing from his eyes to where Gabriel waited on the plush leather bench. “But I think I’ll stay in Gotham for a while, I have a few more things to do, but thank you, I’ll be in touch.”

______________________

You were back on Gabriel’s arm after your conversation with Oliver Queen, walking off to the main hall of the museum, your head leaning against his shoulder as if protecting you from your family approaching you, along with that there were so many people that were around you all that they prevented someone, Damian mostly likely, from making a scene.

“Congratulations on your engagement.” You heard a familiar voice chime from behind you, you both turned around to see the face of Mr. Austen, he was holding his little sister on his hip, all while wearing a pastel pink suit that she picked out no doubt. You had mentioned to Gabriel that Mr. Austen was your and your friend’s sponsor, so it was no surprise that he knew your identity. “Would you mind if I borrowed you two for a moment?”

“Of course, in private I assume?” Mr. Austen nodded to your question and you immediately knew that this was a matter that involved vigilante business. You glanced at Gabriel and tugged him forward, following Mr. Austen as he led you back through the building, past the crowds, and all the way back to the storage room for closed exhibits, an area that no doubt had a basement with all the pieces this place had which had to be kept under tight security. Mr. Austen opened the storage door with a skeleton keycard, he glanced back at Gabriel and smiled. “My company made the security for the place, one of the only reasons it has not been ransacked.”

“Big brother is so smart!” His little sister added in which drew a chuckle from all of the adults present. You all stepped into the large room and when he was about to close the door behind you all a foot stopped it from closing and your heart skipped at the sight of your father pushing the door open, her persona and face he forces for the public completely gone.

“A-ah… Mr. Wayne, now is not a good time-“

“I need to talk to my daughter.” Your father interrupted Mr. Austen and something with that ticked you off, you shot a glare at your father which made a scowl form on his face.

“I have work to do father, whatever you want will have to wait.” You looked back at Mr. Austen and nodded for him to continue. “Please go on.”

“Right… as you know my company handles most of the security in the city, including Arkham Asylum, there was a security breach, not a breakout… yet.” You watch him pull out a small case from a pocket sewn in on the inside of his suit. “Clove is handling a situation with who I assume to be the Riddler down by the Dixon Docks and Henbane, Nettle, and Foxglove are shutting down one of Black Mask’s drug trade…”

“So I’m the only one who can handle it because I am fully recovered, got it.” You paused, glancing at your father who was still listening intently to your conversation, it felt like at any moment he was going to drag you out and all the way back to the manor so you will never be put into danger again. “Two things though, I don’t have my suit and even if I did, are there any big names in there, or anyone with a grudge against me?”

“Killer Moth and Firefly have been there since you caught them last month, but besides them, Bane, Scarecrow, Two Face, and well… the Joker, but none of them have ever gotten involved with you so there is no personal score to settle there.” You swear you could see your father pop a blood vessel, but he could not say anything because while Gabriel knew your identity and knew your father knew your identity, Gabriel had no clue that Bruce Wayne was the Batman. “Then as for your suit, don’t worry.”

He waved the case up before opening it, it was a small pin, an enamel raven pin. You let him pin it onto your dress as you raised an eyebrow. “It’s a pin?”

“It’s also your suit.” You let him reach out and tap the pin twice and before you could react there was an outburst and it felt like it was a scene from a movie as the fabric formed around your body like changing fibers. You must have looked like a child in a candy store with your reaction because Mr. Austen smiled, probably would have laughed if the situation was not so serious. “Nanotechnology, something I’ve been hoping for all of you, but I have only managed to finish your suit.”

“No it’s fine, thank you, oh my god this is so sick!” You must have shreked like a little girl because Gabriel hushed you.

“There is a bike for you out back, equipment on it for you as well.” Mr. Austen gestured towards a narrow window for you to climb out of across the room and you nodded. “I’ll send you the information on your way, it seems I’m on comm lines tonight.”

“Is Miss Wayne gonna be a hero?” The little girl asked, looking at her big brother with a wide smile and Mr. Austen nodded and then to which she looked at you with the biggest smile. “You’re my favorite.”

“Thank you.” You looked at Gabriel then, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.” You then looked at your father, staring at him for a moment, your smiling fading away. “Goodbye father.”

______________________

Your motorcycle roared beneath you as you rode up north, navigating your way to Arkham Island. You were easily pushing ninety miles per hour as you were driving and weaving in and out of traffic. You drove even faster down the Robbins Bridge, not wanting to get stuck in an incident like last time. The closer you got to the Asylum the more bare the streets became and soon enough it was just you…

You wanted it to be just you…

The road lit up before you as lights from a car as it rode up next to you. You would have panicked if the car was not so painfully familiar, the Batmobile, a stupid name in your opinion but it was a cool looking car. You wondered how long it would take for your old man to follow after you after he heard Joker’s name, you just did not expect for him to be this fast.

It was no wonder that he was rushing after you, the words Joker, secretly breach, and Arkham Asylum did not sit well together. He was already protecting you, but remembering what happened to Jason when Joker murdered him was too much to risk.

Luckily your father did not try to cut you off or get in your way as you rode down the road and bridge to Arkham Asylum, only stopping when you stopped in front of the asylum, just past the gates. You jumped off your bike just as the doors to the Batmobile opened up and your father stepped out in full gear.

“Songbird, go home.” His voice was commanding and for the first time you did not hate being called that name since Oliver shined a new light upon it. You ignored his words, continuing to walk forward to the doors of Arkham Asylum, flipping him off, which you instantly regretted because he grabbed your arm, pulling you backwards, making you look at him. “I gave you an order, Songbird. Now go home.”

“You don’t get to order me, I’m not like one of your birds and bats.” You brought your knee up to his gut, which was practically nothing, but it got him to let go of you. “Besides it’s just a security check, I can handle and of these fuckers, and this is my job and case, not yours.”

“I am trying to protect you-“

“I was told to expect you when I was on my way here, Songbird.” A familiar and tired voice spoke out to you as the doors to the asylum opened up. You spotted the familiar face of the GCPD commissioner, Jim Gordan, a person you had worked with more and more over the last two years, of course this was the first time he was seeing you and the Batman together. “I did not expect you to bring Batman along. Are you one of his?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The answers were spoken at the same time and you shot a glare at him and he frowned at you. You glanced back at Commissioner Gordon and you took a deep breath before shaking your head. “He likes to think I am one of his, but I don’t take orders from him, our tech and gear are not the same and our comm lines are completely different. He just wanted to follow along.” You rolled your eyes and stepped inside the building, your father following closely behind you. “What are we looking at, Commissioner? Break out level or something like a security camera malfunction?”

“Security camera is down in Joker’s cell.” He replied with a sigh. “My men are spread thin enough so they can’t get it back online, besides not even the asylum staff has access to the security network, I was informed that you do?”

“That would be correct, I can handle it-“

“I’ll do it.” Your father interrupted you and you scoffed as his hand came to firmly grasp onto your shoulder and he looked down at you. “You can wait outside the cell.”

“Like hell I will! You don’t even have access to the…” Your hand trailed down to your own utility belt to grab the emergency connector the the Austen Security Network, but it was gone. You looked up and it was in his hand. “Hey, that’s not yours, you can’t have that-“

“If you argue I will drag you back home, do you understand?” His tone was the same one he used when you were a child, stern and serious, as if you were going to sneak out to go to a party with your friends, that’s how he viewed you, a child, his child.

“…fine…”

“Good.” You felt yourself shrink into yourself, crossing your arms as you passed the police commissioner, your father leading you further into Arkham Asylum. “Stay close, I need to talk to you after this.”

______________________

You have never been this far into Arkham Asylum in your life, Henbane or Foxglove were normally the ones who handled things on the island, but even then this was more the territory of the Birds and the Bats, not your turf. Even half of the inmates in this place are people you have never even faced before, nor did you want to…

Bane would snap you like a twig, you were too small and nimble to stand a chance against him.

Scarecrow was not the sort you could handle, that fear toxin would only bring back bad memories of when you lived in Wayne Manor and could potentially expose not only your identity but that of your entire family. Though you did read his old reports from when he occasionally taught at Gotham University and when he was just Dr. Jonathan Crane, despite his madness he was quite smart.

Two Face, well you could stand a chance against him, he was someone you could handle, but you chose not to for personal reasons. He knew you as a child, Bruce Wayne’s little princess, and that… you were no longer that girl.

Then there was the Joker. Jason's story happened long before you arrived at the mansion, but you could see the physical and mental scars it left on him. You remember the first time you saw one of his panic attacks, his mind going back to that day when the Joker tortured and murdered him, it scared you and it was second hand.

Your father made sure you were firmly behind him as you approached Joker’s cell, making it clear that you were just going to watch and that you would run if anything went wrong. You did not know what to expect, but it was not what you saw. He was sitting on the bed in his padded cell, his arms restrained in a straight jacket, his hair was an ugly shade of neon green which was faded due to the lack of hair dye in Arkham Asylum, his eyes were wide and unblinking, it almost reminded you of a doll you would see in a horror movie, and the. There were his lips, there was a cut across his face which had the illusion of extending his smile to an unsettling degree, it was scared over but it was clear that he continued to pick at it, reopening the wound and it was scabbing over again and again. And then when he looked up at the two of you, more specifically your father, you wanted to vomit.

“Oh Batsy, you came to see me.” His voice had a high pitched, raspy, sing song tone, you already hated it. Then his eyes turned to you and a cackle escaped his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. “You even brought another one of your birds for me to play with, I had such fun with the last one and all of his screams, I wonder if she’ll scream louder.”

“You’re never going to get the chance.” Your father snapped back, not wasting a moment as he stepped into the cell, so secure it had a two rooms, one that kept the Joker behind bars and one that kept him from reaching out and grabbing someone if he got free of his straight jacket, a layer of bullet proof glass, and in that little area between the barriers was the security camera that was down.

“And I’m not one of his birds.” You snapped back to the madman as your father began to hook up the connector to the camera. “He just interfered with my case, a thorn in my side.”

“Oh but I’m sure you would scream his name, begging him to save you, oh I would love to hear that.” He laughed again, his voice ringing loudly in your ears as he mocked you. “Oh Batman, save me, save me please! I don’t want to die!”

“I’ve had enough.” You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and walking back down the hallway of cells in Arkham Asylum. “I would rather shoot myself in the skull and kill myself then beg for him to save me.”

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Your Novel Part 2: The Plot Pass

Okay, it's finally time to edit. You've got all your materials sorted, it's time to dive right in. You want to start with the big edits first, aka the plot pass.

Now listen. You're going to want to linger and fix those little bits of grammar or dialogue, and I know it's so hard not to, but letting yourself get off-track might mean wasting hours on a scene you realize later you have to delete. Fix a few spelling errors, leave a note, and stay plot-focused.

Making Sense (Of the Plot)

In the plot pass, you're asking yourself some basic questions:

Do events follow a clear order? - When you're getting everything down on the page for the first time, scenes might get jumbled up or events might not have clear causes. Maybe you have a car crashing into the cafe pages before, but in a writing haze, you wrote your main characters having a casual conversation moments later. If the bad guy beats your heroes to treasure, is it clear how they got there? (Not everyone can be Yzma.)

Do circumstances feel contrived? If there are any problems that can be solved by your characters sitting down and talking to each other, it may be better to lean into their motivation for not speaking to each other, rather than coming up with bad romcom scenarios. If the plot can be resolved by the mcguffin the grandma had the whole time, it might be better to make finding that mcguffin part of the plot instead.

It doesn't have to be perfect, and you don't have to reinvent the wheel. If someone gets bitten by a werewolf, it's perfectly fine to have them turn into one at the worst possible moment. When it comes to contrived, you're looking for problems that seem easy to solve and look for more interesting ways to complicate them.

Are your character motivations consistent to the characters throughout the story? - They can change throughout the story, but character motivations do need to be linked to the actions they take. An out-of-nowhere betrayal is way more satisfying if you lay the groundwork for it ahead of time.

Take a moment to list out the motivations of the characters in a scene you're not quite sure of can help you figure how to fix it. Having an outline helps with this a lot!

Are you following an "if... then" format? - My brain doesn't work like this when I'm writing, because as a writer you know how A got to Z, and it seems (in your head) obvious how it happened. This is where my scene card outline come in handy, because I can look at my overview of what should happen and why, and then compare it to what actually happens in the scene. I've discovered so many threads I forgot to connect that way, like why a character had a certain device (I forgot to have him pick it up two scenes earlier), or adding a few simmering dialogue bits that make the big fight pay off much better.

Can you fix the "Because the Plot Demands It" scenes? - Look, sometimes your character needs to be in that haunted house to see that damn ghost, but your character isn't the type to set foot in such a place. It's really easy, especially in the first draft, to contrive a way in there (she took a wrong turn on her way to grandma's!), but retooling these scenes to connect them to the characters motivations and needs is the way to go. The main character doesn't want to go into that obviously cursed place, but her best friend hasn't shown up for school in three days and now she's crying for help from the second floor window. Your character's strong desire to be there for her friend is a much better way to get her into that house.

This is not always easy - it took me six fricken drafts to realize a critical part of a character's motivation was because his father blamed him for his mother's death - but it is going to be worth putting in the work to hammer down.

Do you have a solid timeline? - This might not seem as important, but it's super easy to accidentally fit two weeks worth of activities in three days. Make sure you have that on reference, even if you don't mention it in the book. Also make sure to gauge your distances if your characters are on a trip, because if you do accidentally say it takes two hours to drive from Seattle to Spokane instead of five, someone will dive down your throat for it. Not me. Just someone.

Okay, maybe me. Slow down, you maniacs.

Next post we'll dive into the structure pass. See you then!

[featherandferns]

like him (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired from this scene and this scene, this request/message, and this incredible, heartbreaking song

content warning: anxiety and panic; mild v!olence; non-specific references to child abus3

word count: 6.6k. (not yet proofread so apologies for spelling/grammar errors)

blurb: at the town meeting for the Maybank property, everything that's happened to JJ in the past forty-eight hours comes to a head. In his internal turmoil, you're the only guiding light back to safety.

Energy can’t be destroyed. JJ wasn’t much of a smart ass at school but he managed to understand that much. He remembers the lesson for some reason: maybe it was the muggy classroom, the hottest day of summer, or maybe it was because he was sat next to you and nearly every memory that has you in it is etched into his brain with permanent marker. But JJ remembers physics class enough to recall that law. Newton’s, was it? Who knows. 

Energy can neither be created or destroyed - only converted from one form of energy to another. 

Maybe JJ understood that law so well because he’d seen it play out more times than he could count. Practical things like that always had a way of welding themselves into JJ’s intelligence; he was better at hands-on learning. He’d seen it in the ocean, riding on waves, journeying from the power of the currents. He’d seen it when fixing up cars, when fishing on the docks, when lighting up a bonfire. But the time he remembers best is when you burnt yourself. 

It was a silly thing, really. You’d been craving mac and cheese and had tried to fix a pan of it up. You’d used the wrong type of lid and placed it overtop of a near to overflowing pan of water. The bubbles pushed and prodded at the glass and the steam simmered up and up. Always one to talk, you weren’t much paying attention. You were leaning on the counter, a hand beside the stove, and gazing up at JJ like he was something special. He wasn’t sure why you looked at him like that, all he knew was that he never wanted it to go away. JJ can recall the moment that the lid of the pan came tumbling off. Water overflowed from the lip and trickled down the sides. The bubbles popped and splashed and a hefty droplet of water landed perfectly on the back of your hand. Your eyes were pink from the tears as JJ held your hand under running water, trying to sooth the burn, ease the injury before it could worsen. His lips had pressed to your forehead in a tender way that he always wished his dad would kiss his after a fall or a scrape. Your voice was stuffy and thick when you cursed water and pans and, sadly, mac and cheese. 

Glancing to his left, he spots the faint scar on your hand that remained from the incident over a year ago. It’s a distraction from the legal babble that fills the city hall. His eyes trace the curve of your arm, following it like roads on a map, guiding him to your shoulders and your collarbones and your neck and your face. The jut of your chin and the slope of your nose; the shining of your eyes in the bright light as you stare intently ahead at whatever was unfolding. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear. Your lips are being brutalised; gnawed on anxiously as you track the conversation between lawyers and councilmen. You were always the clever one. JJ would have you explain things to him in physics knowing damn well that he barely understood. It was an excuse to hear your voice and to make you laugh when he made crude jokes. “Kinetic energy, huh? Think I know a thing or two about that.” Maybe, if there were different circumstances, he’d have you translate the jargon being tossed around in the room to him. Put it into layman’s terms, spell it out in the way only you could that avoided being condescending. Only caring. 

But JJ can hardly hear over the sound of his own ringing ears. He can hardly think over the buzzing of his thoughts as if his mind had been infested with cicadas. He can hardly breathe through the thick, musty air of the room. His throat feels tight like he’s having an allergic reaction. His heart is aching and pounding all at once in that awful, annoying way it likes to do when things feel like they’re out of control. And, boy, did things feel like they were out of control. 

You wince as your teeth pull on a loose piece of skin of your lower lip. It draws blood. Not much, enough to be gone in a swipe of your tongue. JJ remembers his previous line of thoughts. How natural for his mind’s path to be derailed by you. 

Energy. The pan. The pressure. JJ felt pressure. He felt like that pan. Inside of him, it was building. The bubbles and the steam, pushing its ways up, churning through his stomach, pressing against his chest, fighting up his throat. It was invading his head. Shrinking his thoughts, clouding his mind, blurring his vision. It was squeezing him, suffocating him. He’d been on the heat for too long. Too many things, not enough time. Too many thoughts. Too many curveballs. If this was a baseball game, it would have had people’s heads spinning. JJ’s head was spinning. There was too much, too little, too big. He didn’t like big. No, he liked small. He liked simple. He liked the house and the garden and the shop and you. He liked his life. But it wasn’t his life. Nothing was his life now. It was building - the pressure. Building and building and building and–

–And any second now, he was going to explode. 

Lid on the stove. Water over the edges. Burn on the hand. 

Your hand is on his leg. You’re looking at him. It takes him a moment to register. He feels miles away from his body. Eyes slanted with concern, you’re frowning at him. 

“Are you okay?” you whisper. Never condescending; only caring. JJ gives a stiff nod and, purely because he can’t stand to see you look at him like that, like he’s something good, he turn his attention back to the front of the room.  

“We are scheduled to hear from some of the members of the community,” boldly-locks in the glasses announces into the microphone. “Beginning with a representative from the occupants of the Roger’s Point property, which used to be the Maybank property.”

It’s funny how Maybank has been JJ’s last name his whole life, but hearing it this time, out loud, it doesn’t feel like he knows it anymore. He props an arm up on the stall’s edge, running his fingers over his lips. A representative, huh?

“Anybody feeling brave?” Kiara asks in a hushed tone. 

Energy. JJ’s pushing up onto his feet. “I am. I got this.”

Your hand latches onto his arm before he’s fully risen.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” John B murmurs in alarm. JJ looks down at John B, then at you. You’re half-apologetic as you shake your head ‘no’. 

“Sit down, okay?” Pope demands in a hiss. 

“Not me, then. All right.”

When JJ reunites with the seat, it feels as though the pressure doubles. Your hand reaches for his; fingers intertwined with his. JJ lets your hold linger for a second, enough for you to know he isn’t angry at you, and then he lets you go. He’s too fidgety. Too clammy. Too much, too fast, too little time. You whisper with the others as you try and decide on a voice for the group and, soon enough, John B is volunteered forward. As he stands, JJ claps proudly. That’s his brother. 

“Please state your name for the record.”

“I am John Booker Routledge.”

“Damn right,” JJ affirms. In his peripheral vision, he sees you nodding. Susciently, soundly, somewhat calmly, John B fights the Pogue’s corner. He asks the questions that all of you had been asking since this new curveball was fired. JJ felt like he used to be good at dodging things. His dad’s bunches; homework and detentions at school; juvenile and prison and consequence. But now, here, in this room, things are feeling less manageable. Things are feeling more real. 

The lid. The stove. The pressure, building. 

“Myself and Sarah…We both lost our fathers last year…”

JJ’s eyes squeeze shut. Like whiplash, images flash through his mind. Pictures. Words. ‘I’m not your real dad’. Something that feels like bile creeps up his throat but he forces it down. Your hand reaches out and clenches his knee reassuringly. Pressure. Energy. JJ’s foot taps anxiously against the tiled floor of the building. It’s building. 

A kook stands up. Not any Kook. The kook. The prison master in this sick, twisted game that Figure Eight was playing with JJ’s life. He’s perfectly presentable in his black suit, grey hair combed without a single strand out of place, glasses perched innocently on his lightly wrinkled face as if he was destined to age like a fine wine. It’s easy to do that when you don’t know stress. When you don’t know fear. 

“Excuse me. May I speak?” he oh-so-politely asks. 

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you, Mayor. There seems to be a misunderstanding. Okay? And I think I can clarify.”

“Oh my God,” JJ mutters. 

“What an asshole,” you murmur. 

With John B’s permission, Mr Zeasy shuffles him out of place and takes over. He talks as though he was born on a soapbox, preaching down the sinners of The Cut, sneering at their poverty, scoffing at their struggle. 

“So what the, uh, current occupants of the land don’t seem to understand is that there is an injunction to invalidate the most recent sale.”

JJ’s brows furrow. You shake your head. 

“Wh–What does that mean? JJ, what does he mean?” you mumble, glancing at him. 

“There was a pre-existing promissory note from the original owner that was in the process of benign finalised when the land auction took place.”

“What the fuck?” you whisper harshly. “Is that even legal? How is that legal?” 

JJ can’t move. He can’t breathe. He can’t speak. 

Stove. Pan. Lid. Water. Pressure. 

“The bank wasn’t legally allowed to go to auction.”

“Bullshit,” JJ mutters. All of it. Everything. Everything was bullshit. 

“We have a promissory note right here from the original owner, signed before the auction, and finalised  by Judge Holden.”

The applause that follows the announcement feels like a thousand pinpricks into JJ’s eyes. 

“That means our sale was invalid,” Pope tells Sarah. 

The buzzing is back in JJ’s head. It’s louder now. Deafening. Overwhelming. He has to fight to hear the discourse occurring at the front of the room. His chest feels tight. His throat is closing up. His lungs can’t take in air. They’re shrinking. It’s too little, too much, not enough. Building. Building. 

“And where is the original owner and can he validate the authenticity of this document?”

“Yes, he can. He’s right here.”

Mr Zeasy gestures down the aisle. JJ can’t bring himself to move. He’s stuck in place. Until he isn’t, and he’s turning, looking over his shoulder as the room heckles and hollers. There he is. Sitting then standing, taking off some dusty cap. He lingers like a fucking idiot. JJ’s vision blurs. Stove. Pan. Water. Tears. Pressure. Building. 

Everything else fades away as Luke locks eyes with JJ. It’s hard to believe there’s any sincerity when he speaks. 

“I’m sorry, J.”

It’s hilarious, actually. Everything that’s happened in the past forty-eight hours: what was he sorry for this time? Scratch that, not the past forty-eight hours. His whole life. His whole miserable, bitter existence. His life spent in poverty and in fear and in self-deprecating shadows. Because of Luke. Because of a man who might not even be his father. So, tell me dad, what are you sorry for this time? 

JJ can’t take another moment staring at him. He turns back towards the front, bowing his head. His eyes are downcast to the floor. His shoes are dirty. They always are. You always offer to clean them for him but he never accepts. There’s no point, he’d say. JJ was never good at keeping clean. 

“Isn’t it obvious? He signs the promissory note and in exchange, he gets amnesty.” 

JJ’s jaw clicks. The townspeople are in uproar, hollering out, yelling for justice, frowning upon the inequality of the island. You’re on your feet too. Tossing your arm, yelling out in anger, the pain thick in your voice. Somewhere behind him, somewhere amongst the chaos, is the man JJ thought was his future. The man he thought he was destined to grow into. Why wouldn’t he? They look the same, talk the same, act the same. The hair, the mannerisms, the self-righteousness, the selfishness, the idiocy, the blinding, brimming anger that was always right there on the surface. The man who was JJ’s sign for a deadend - a deadend he was bound to find himself at too, with time. The man who pulled the rug out beneath him merely moments ago. 

His head is buzzing. His chest is tight. His throat is dry. His heart is racing. His foot is tapping. His jaw is clenching. His rage is boiling. The pressure, building, building, building. Stove. Pan. Tears. Burn. Too much, too little, too fast. The buzzing is loud, deafening, like a migraine on steroids, and he can’t find a thought, can’t find anything to ground him. You’re not there. There’s no thought of you to invade in and to bring him peace. 

It’s building, it’s building, it’s building. 

Stove. Pan. Lid. Pressure. 

Energy. 

It feels like a dream when he pushes onto his feet. His body screams out for relief, for satisfaction, for something. The world lags around him, time dragging like molasses, and JJ feels as though he moves in slow motion as he walks down the aisle of the hall. In the blurring of his vision, there is a clear point of focus, like a road illuminated by headlights in the pitch black of night. Luke comes into view. His father. His dad. His abuser. JJ breezes past him. Makes a right. 

Energy can’t be created or destroyed. 

His hands grab onto a stray chair. His knuckles whitening with his tight grip on the wooden arms. It feels light as paper when he lifts it from the floor. 

Energy can only be transferred. 

The glass shatters in a beautiful array of shards as the chair pummels through the window. Daylight floods the room. A breeze brushes over his face as if saying thanks. The fresh air is a relief. 

JJ can finally begin to breathe again. 

An arm hooks around his neck and JJ’s flailing and throwing himself into action. He grunts and fights and elbows until the grip finally loosens. Another cop is approaching in the pin-point vision and JJ hurls his legs out, leaning back against his aggressor, and kicks the man away. An arm comes loose and JJ uses it to grab at the cop, and then he’s lurching himself forward, tossing the cop over him and onto the floor. Energy. He is full of energy. The first punch lands square on his cheek. The second just skims his jaw. His uniform is scratchy in JJ’s grasp as he holds his down. The man’s face is indistinguishable in the mist of his messy head. It’s Luke. It’s Groff. It’s Mr Zeasy. 

The pain of the nightstick is numb when it collides with his back. JJ stumbles forward, grunting. He staggers up onto his feet, disorientated, confused. His vision becomes to sharpen and the room comes back into sight. It’s a cop on the floor. A bloody, bleeding cop. 

Oh fuck. 

Oh, fuck. 

He wobbles back a few steps as his mind tries to catch up with the moment. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. 

Your hands grab at the lapels of his jacket. Your face is almost unrecognisable from the panic. But JJ can hear your voice loud and clear as you yell at him. 

“Go! Get out of here! Go!”

You give him a push. Energy. 

A cop is coming at him, fast. JJ runs out of the room, through the doors, and he grunts as the officer makes a grab for him near the main exit. The two fly out onto the porch and down the stairs. The pain is lessened from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s pure survival instincts as he feels cops surround him, grabbing at him body, holding at his limbs, pushing him against a cop car’s bonnet. The metal is cool against the boiling hot skin of his face. He manages to wrangle an arm free and rams it into the cops face. He imagines it’s Luke’s. The hold on his other arm loosens and he manages to break free, wrestling against the forces.

“Get off me! Get off me, man!”

He’s shoved into the back of a cop car, head first. He grunts as he collides with soft cushions of the seats. But then there’s people at the window, slamming at the glass, yelling at him. No, no this is bad. This is really fucking bad. This is worse than the time JJ spilt wine on your favourite dress. It’s worse than when he accidentally hurt you whilst fooling around. It’s worse than when he thought you’d drowned on t he boat. It’s worse than when you burnt your hand at the stove. JJ looks around frantically but he’s surrounded by people. Everywhere. 

What the fuck is going on? 

It’s a reflex when he shields his face from the glass of the back window. Squinting, he sees a trainered foot kicking through it. He recognises those trainers. It’s you. 

“Back up! Back up!” he yells out the window. It’s you. Pope’s by your side. JJ kicks out his leg and knocks out more glass, clearing a space. You’re there with the others, grabbing at his arms, trying to pull him out as he wriggles his way through the clearing, over the seats. His legs feel like jelly when he gets to his feet. 

He stares blankly at John B and Pope, staggering backwards as they drive him away. Then you’re pushing through the two of them, grabbing at his face, simultaneously encouraging him away from you. 

“Go! Run, JJ! Go!” you shout. 

Never condescending; only caring. 

JJ nods. 

Energy. 

JJ starts to run. 

His feet pound rhythmically on the concrete. It’s endless, the energy pounding in his body. He could never be exhausted. For the first time in what feels like his whole life, JJ feels free. And as JJ runs through the abandoned streets of Kildare County, he feels like he’s chasing down the ghost of his father. 

Who is he?

JJ had always thought he knew that answer. JJ Maybank: delinquent, future tax-evader, loyal friend, son of a lowlife. A Pogue. A grifter, a grinder. Despite all his ailments in his life, he had never needed to question where he came from. It was plain as day, clear as light, who JJ was. Who his father was. Who JJ would wind up being. Luke had told him so, with every hit he landed on his puppy-fat cheeks, with every slap swiping across his youthful face. Any blood drawn came with the assertion that this was what he deserved. This was who he was. A good for nothin’, low-life just like his father. A waste of space. A high school dropout. 

He turns onto a side road and realises he’s heading for Main Street. It’s weird, seeing the town so hollow, nothing but a shell of its buildings. It unsettles him further. He could never run out of energy. JJ keeps running. In the distance, that figment never becomes clearer, never becomes closer. But he follows it anyway. 

Luke looked like JJ. The blonde hair, now faded into shades of grey. The lips and the nose and the eyes. It was more than that; it was the temperament too. The frustration and the short fuse, passed down through genetics like an Olympic torch. At least, he thought. So, what did that mean? It was never inherited? Was JJ just fucked up from the start? What was that theory you were trying to teach him about - back when he had tried to win your affection, offering up study dates to help try and pick up his grades. Any excuse to be in your orbit. It’s nature versus nurture, JJ, you’d said, smiling sweetly. Your fingernails were rounded and painted pink, chipping at the tips, as you point at the diagrams. But JJ was watching you, he wasn’t paying much mind to the image. Look! Come on, you have to focus! He’d said something then, something to make you laugh, something that had you all flustered and blushing and him smirking. But then he��d looked. He’d listened. Some traits can be inherited from genes - nature - but some come from upbringing and environment - nurture. 

Was that what this was? Nurture? Had all the years spent wrapped up in the daily missteppings of his father moulded JJ into some tormented, tainted failure. Had his soul been pure before and his future been clean and bright, and Luke had used his grubby hands to reshape it into something ugly as if JJ was nothing more than a scrap piece of clay. A scrap that could be thrown away. 

He was thrown away, though. Wasn’t he? Groff didn’t want him. Groff didn’t care for him, not like Luke did. He didn’t feed him, didn’t bathe him, didn’t teach him how to fish, how to ride a bike, how to roll a cigarette. He didn’t care for him. He wasn’t a father. But Luke wasn’t either. 

Luke wasn’t his father but he hit him like there was the same amount of honour ladened into every punch. 

What did Groff look like? JJ can hardly picture his face in the dimming brightness of the streets. The streetlamps were coming on now. The hours were ticking away. Nobody around, time seemed to stand still. His steps ease up just slightly. He isn’t tired though. He just needs to concentrate more on what Groff looked like. But he can’t seem to formulate the picture in his mind. It’s blurs and snippets of shapes and colours. Blonde and white and shifty. Rich. Kook. No, fuck that, JJ wasn’t any Kook. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. But still, for some reason, JJ finds himself obsessed. 

Do I look like him? 

Somewhere in the midst, JJ swiped a baseball bat. The whole journey is a daydream. A fever dream, really. It doesn't make sense. There’s no chronological order to it; just flashes of moments like a busted old film reel. You’re the star. You always were in JJ’s life. The brightness, untouched and untarnished, beaming bright on him. The thing he wished on and the thing he planned his life around. He can remember the break in your voice as you yell at him to run. He should run. JJ keeps running. 

Something makes him stop. Crickets chirp. He’s panting but not nearly as much as he should be, right? Why isn’t he tired? You’d know. You know everything - maybe even more than Pope. Sirens wail in the distance like a warning. They’re coming. He pushes those thoughts away to the back of his mind. He tries to push that other thought away too, but it won’t budge. Instead, it stands front and centre like the banquet of a movie theatre. Do I look like him? 

JJ realises he’s staring at the window of a shop. A jewellery shop. The lights are on because these Kooks can afford to keep the electricity running after hours. They’d never understand what it’s like to go without. To feel so hungry you think your stomach might start to digest itself. JJ knows that feeling - knows it well. JJ isn’t a Kook. A smile presses onto his face. It feels like breathing. 

Energy. 

He yields the bat and takes a swing. Bam! The glass shatters musically. It’s so beautiful the way it cracks and splinters. He swings the bat, licking at his lips, and saunters along the pavement. The alarm is like an accompaniment to his symphony of vandalism. The door’s window break is a little tougher; JJ grunts. Glancing inside, his eyes latch onto one of the displays. The silver ring glints temptingly in the fluorescents like it’s from Lord of the Rings. You flash through his mind. The images of you that he saved in that corner he hardly liked to go in, too scared of the world in which it might not come true. Images of you and him, married, happy, you round-bellied, a house and a dog and a life with him. With a nobody like him because JJ was not a Kook. 

But, do I look like him? 

He’s delicate as he removes it from the mannequins hand. He studies it closer and feels settled on his choice. This’ll look good on your hand. You deserve nice things. 

“Thank you,” he says, pocketing it. JJ staggers back onto the road. His eyes glance down the empty street and he’s relieved to find the ghost has faded away. Sirens whir like a doomsday call. 

“Oh, here they come,” he grins. “Okay. So, y’all wanted one island, huh?”

He approaches a car. He’s never owned a car. Never been gifted one for his eighteenth; never thought that he’d manage to afford anything nice, either. Just a banged-up, second-hander. That’s the life of a Pogue. JJ wasn’t a Kook. 

“I’ll give you it,” he grunt, hurling his bat at the vehicle. “Over here, fellas! Y’all wouldn’t want to miss the game.”

Every hit he takes feels like a stone lifted off his shoulders. 

The fuse box causes a magnificent explosion, akin to a supernova on earth, and JJ flinches as sparks crackle out. Energy can’t be destroyed. Rooky error. 

“Let’s play ball.”

The trashcan clatters as if falls to the floor. Trash spews out onto the street. JJ digs about in his pocket, muttering, and procures his lighter. It’s the one you got him for his sixteenth. The flame flickers. 

“Let’s really light it up.” 

The fire catches quick. He remembers that from when the chateau burnt down. There’s fun in the chaos, JJ finds, singing under breath and taking swings at windows and doors like they’re nothing more than targets on a fairground game. Every splint of glass is like resolution for JJ. Every hit is like catharsis. 

“Oh, that felt good.”

The mannequins are undeterred by his violence. It reminds him of you. You never once budged whenever he’d spiral. Would you budge now, after this? 

“Where are my manners?” JJ wonders jovially. His hand cups at the plastic dolls and he guides his lips down to the back of it. The same hand that you had the burn on. His teasing continues on with every toss of the bat. His eyes glance over the male mannequin. The blonde wig and the uppity suit. Did Groff wear suits? What was he wearing when JJ met him? 

Do I look like him? 

He doesn’t want to think about that right now. No, no, he can’t. It’s too little, too much, too fast. He was just starting to feel in control again. He grabs for the bar stool and builds up some power before tossing it through the window a cafe. Energy. JJ is pure energy. He’s chaos reincarnated. Babylon humanified. 

He admires his work like an emperor surveying his kingdom. Just how he imagined the Kooks to do so once they capture his land, his home, his life. 

But was it ever his? What is his life, if more than half of it is a lie? What does that amount to then? What does that leave? What’s left of him if he doesn’t have himself - his identity? 

Who is he? 

JJ takes off running again. This time, he feels like he’s being chased. The figment, the ghost, whoever the hell it is, is behind him now. Haunting him. Hasn’t he always felt haunted? By his mother, by his father. By his future. JJ runs faster. The sirens are like lines of cocaine, propelling his legs ahead. He glacnes frantically left and right and takes a sudden turn. 

The streetlamps cast the streets in an eerie orange glow. The trees look like figures looming by the roadside. The houses and buildings lights are mostly off. Dogs bark, sirens echo. A sign comes into sight as if he was guided to it by some divine force. Zeast Realtors. JJ smiles knowingly at his new best friend. 

“Light her up.”

The stairs don’t creak as he makes his way up the building. His stairs always creaked. They were rotten. Mice lived under his house as a kid. His family house that no longer holds any significance in his life, just the way his name doesn’t. JJ is without a name. 

The alarm fires off the moment the glass shatters on the door. It’s embarrassingly easy to get inside. Within the office are plans laid out like a villainous layer. Plots and plans for:

“A new figure Eight.”

JJ loses it. Whatever remaining grasp of control he had on his inhibition is wiped away like his childhood. Glasses and picture frames and ornaments and business cards: nothing is safe from his bat. 

“What’s fair is fair! Huh?”

But it isn’t helping like it was before. He doesn’t feel lighter. He feels like he’s sinking, down and down. Why isn’t it helping? JJ batters more things, hoping for it to change, hoping for everything to change. He wants to wake up now. He wants to wake up in his bed, beside you, and have you hold him and kiss him and ask him about what had him moving so much in the night. He wants you to make a joke on how it was keeping you up. He wants his life back. 

A framed photograph of Mr Zeasy sits pretty on the mantle. JJ studies it for a moment. Scans over the pressed suit and the quiffed hair and the stagnant smile. The falseness that lies in the act of being proper. His reflection catches in the light. JJ’s face twists in disgust. 

“No way am I a kook.”

The sirens are suddenly very loud. Shit. JJ ducks down out of sight from the windows. His back presses tightly against the cabinets. It grounds him. Shit. His head hangs and his lips purse and his mind reels. This is it. Luke was right. He was a lowlife, a delinquent, a failure. He’ll spend his life in prison. Fuck, he can’t think of how many charges he’s racked up by now. It might be a new record. Maybe for ocne his dad would be proud of him. That’s all he ever wanted. 

“This is what I was talking about, son!” Shoupe hollers out. 

Son. Son to who? 

Who is he? 

“You’ve gone too far and we’ve got a serious situation.”

He isn’t Luke.

“I told you this shit would happen and here we are.”

He isn’t Groff. 

“I need you to put down any and all weapons you may have, or you will get shot.”

JJ rises to his feet. 

“I don’t want that, so just come on out with your hands up.”

He isn’t anybody, anymore. 

“JJ, listens up, son-”

“No, you listen up Shoupe!” JJ hollers. “I’m not just gonna come out there so you can take what's ours and let them win again. It was ours, fair and square. So I have a right to fight for what’s mine.”

“JJ! Can you hear me?”

It’s Kiara. 

“Just, please, do what they say! This is getting dangerous!”

“No!” JJ shouts. His anger twists. “I’m done kissing the feet of people who’ve taken from me my entire life!”

His voice cracks. Tears sting at his eyelids and he wills them away. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. He was happy: truly, really happy. Maybe he’s cursed. Maybe he isn’t meant to be happy. Maybe that’s who he is. 

“Y’all might have given up,” JJ shouts. He swallows. Everything hurts. To himself, he makes a stand. “But I’m not done fighting.”

“So, Shoupe. You want me, you’re gonna have to come get me.”

He starts quickly down the hallway. The beckonings from the cops sounds like the devil trying to lure Eve in to bite from the apple. The sound of whistling and crackling has him ducking for cover. Bullets. 

“Jesus Christ.”

No, not bullets. Fireworks. He looks up to find a microwave. His mind works fast. What would you do? Something smart. Think, JJ, Goddamnit. Think! 

‘Metals are conductors’, you explain as you stir the mixture in the beaker. JJ’s toying with the bunsen burner, mesmerised by the flames in a way that has you joking he’s an arsonist. ‘Fun fact about it is that if you put it in a microwave it starts sparking and shit. It can even start fires. Something about it reflects the microwaves. It acts like a mirror. Pretty cool, huh?’ 

JJ scrambles in the kitchen for cutlery. He comes up with a handful of forks and crams them into the microwave. He starts it up and smacks it farewell. Thank God for you and your wonderful mind. There’s no time to waste; JJ races up the staircase of the building. There’s chaos outside. People yelling. He can hear Sarah and Kie’s screams. They’ll be fine. He can’t help them, for once in his life. Maybe he never could. He opens the window and steps out onto the roof. He closes it behind him. Leave no trace, just like his childhood. 

He teeters on the edge of the roof and looks down. Shit, that’s a hell of a drop. They’ll be behind him, though, hot on his trail. There’s no time. Sucking in a breath, JJ prepares himself for the landing before jumping off the roof. The metal of the car smacks against his skin and side. JJ’s knee shifts uncomfortably when he makes contact and he grunts. Rolling off onto the grass, he takes a second to check that he’s really alive. 

“JJ.”

He blinks and looks up. It’s you. 

“Oh my God, JJ,” you mutter, dropping to your knees. 

“What–Where–”

“It’s just me, I slipped away from the others, they don’t know I’m here,” you hurry out. You’re hands on his body, helping him up. JJ grunts and registers a dull ache in his leg. The adrenaline works well as pain relief. “We gotta go. Now.”

“No, no, I can’t drag you into this,” JJ panics, trying to shake you off him. 

There’s a humour in your eyes as you tell him, “I was already in this. Come on.”

There’s no time to be wasted in arguing. JJ complies and the two of you take off running down the street. You’re guiding the way. JJ doesn't question it. He trusts you. Hell, you might be the last person on earth that he trusts truly and deeply. The limp in his leg slows him down so he lingers behind by a few steps. Your hair is swaying as you race down the street. The streetlamps bask you in an ethereal glow. There’s small cuts on your legs from where you broke the glass of the cop car to break him out. JJ can’t believe you’re here. 

“Come on, through here. I know somewhere we can lay low and think,” you tell him. JJ doesn’t ask any questions. The two of you pant as you run down the road. Soon enough, you come to what looks like an abandoned barn. You guide the two of you around the back and push back some metal siding. It reveals a hole big enough to crawl through. You go first and JJ follows, careful to secure the siding back once the two of you are inside. There’s blind patting around before you let out a sigh of relief, and JJ can hear the rattle of something in a box. When you light a flame, he realises it’s a box of matches. Your face comes into view in the faint light and you look around for something. A candlestick that sits in an old-timey holder is balanced on an old piece of machinery. You take it and light it, and place it back. There’s enough light to make out JJ’s face and his yours. 

For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. Then you’re hurling your arms around his shoulders and pulling him against you. 

“Oh my God, JJ, I was so worried about you,” you tell him into his shoulder. JJ slowly coils his arms around your body. The warmth of your skin through your dress is like medicine. He tugs you tight against him and suddenly can’t think of anything worse than letting you go. His face buries into your neck and he breathes in the smell of you. It sends him back through time; through adventures and restless nights and sleepless mornings and peaceful evenings and joyful afternoons and mornings spent in Physics class together. 

His mind clears enough from the imminent panic of survival that it can make space for that one damning thought. 

Do I look like him? 

JJ isn’t aware that he’s crying until your running a hand up and down his back soothingly. You shush him gently, almost swaying him, and JJ can’t help but cry more and more. His fingers grapple desperately at your dress and he tries to pull you impossibly closer. He can’t lose you too. He’s lost everything he knows: his dad, his mother, his house, his life, his freedom. He can’t lose you too. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Lemme see you,” you worry, unfortunately pulling away from him. Your hands are soft as they brush over the skin of his face, sweeping hair off his forehead, swiping tears off his cheeks. Your smile is sweet and tender when he looks at you through wet eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“Do…” JJ can’t find his breathe. Your brows tug together slightly. 

“Does something hurt?” 

Everything. 

“Do I…” JJ gasps for air and clenches his eyes shut. He knows how it will sound. Like a petulant, pathetic child asking his dad what ‘JJ’ stands for. Like an idiotic, dreaming infant asking his dad where his mother is. Like a useless, stupid teenager asking his girlfriend: “do I look like him?”

When he opens his eyes, you’re studying him, confused and concerned. He thinks you might not have heard him. 

“Do I look like him?”

You lick your lips. “Do you…Are you meaning Groff?”

JJ almost winces. He sniffs and nods, trying to steel himself. His shoulders square. He stares at you and waits. Your mouth moves as if to form words but nothing comes out. Sighing, you study him - really look at him - and then you give a half-smile. It’s solemn and sombre. 

“No, JJ. I don’t think you look like him. Not really.”

JJ’s eyes press shut. A sob wracks up his throat. He suddenly realises that he wasn’t sure which answer he wanted to hear. Which answer would hurt the least? 

I don’t look like him. 

“What’re you thinking right now?” you whisper. 

JJ swallows thickly. He wipes roughly at his cheeks with the back of his sleeves. You’re expression breaks his heart when he meets your gaze. Your hand cups his cheek, thumb sweeping over his skin like a mother soothing her child in their sleep. JJ wonders if his mother ever did that to him. 

He doesn’t know who he is anymore, but he can try and find out. There’s only one way to do that. 

“I need to go see Groff.”

Your eyes flicker with withheld surprise. But you’re good at saving face. Smiling, nodding, you back him like you did since day one, sat side by side in physics class due to the fates of a seating plan. From strangers to classmates to lab partners to friends to lovers. And the love you had for him, the love JJ had for you; that was the most powerful energy he'd ever known. An energy that could never be destroyed.  

“Okay,” you say quietly, nodding. “Let’s get you to Groff’s.” 

[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝓞𝐔𝐑: 𝓘 𝓖𝐨𝐭 𝓨𝐨𝐮

pairing kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | wc: 2.1k

summary -> having to comfort cheol after a particularly scary scene in a movie, his sister not answering her phone resorting to you caring for him. warnings -> the suggestion of cheating.

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

9:44PM

𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 the orphanage, your mood had been remiss, arriving halfway through the movie. The drive from the Café a great distance, not doing you any favors with the added on traffic that had been nothing less than merciless. On any other day it wouldn't have bothered you to miss the beginning of a movie as much but tonight was different. For weeks upon end the children had begged, and pleaded with all their might to convince your mother to screen a particular film—an adaptation of an old folk tale, one you had been curious of since first seeing the previews even though it was aimed towards kids. Missing even a second of it stung more than you'd like to admit, almost feeling childish for the small pout that made home on your face because of it.

Without wasting another moment, you bolted out of the car and bolted towards the "movie room" which in reality was just a second living room, refurbished to look as such with an added projector and a small popcorn machine. Quickly, you slung your bag off of your shoulder, dropping it onto the front bench while kicking your shoes off before quietly tip-toeing towards the kitchen to make yourself a snack, knowing that the children themselves had already conducted something beforehand, always making their own special little treats for nights like this.

Slipping into the room as quietly as possible, throwing a gentle wave at the children who noticed you while simultaneously holding your finger to your lips to make sure they didn't alert the others, the last thing you wanted was to face the chaos of whispers and giggles from other children interrupting the movie, knowing just how rowdy they got over the smallest distractions.

Settling into a corner towards the back, you tried to focus on the screen, forcing your mind to catch up with the story. It had started out innocently enough—a group of friends exploring an area they shouldn't have been with added on lighthearted banter. Until the movie suddenly took a darker turn, something that was supposed to be lighthearted and fun with an occasional scare or two, spiraled into something chilling and borderline sinister, leaving everyone quiet. The room thick with tension.

Out of instinct you couldn't help but glance over towards Cheol, who sat stiffly on a worn floor cushion in front of you, his small hands clenched tightly into fists, nails digging into his palms with great strength. His doe eyes suddenly wide, and filled with tears as he remained frozen in his spot, eyes fixed on the screen as if he couldn't move an inch, the tremble of his body noticeable as he took rapid shallow breaths.

“Cheol?” you quietly whispered, concern laced in your voice as you leaned down closer to him. He didn’t respond, it was almost as if he couldn't. You watched as his mouth was slightly agape, his lips quivering before a soft shaky sob escaped him. A few kids turned towards him at the noise, some faces laced with concern while others snickered to their friends.

Without hesitation you lifted yourself from the couch, moving quietly but swiftly to where Cheol sat frozen in place. You crouched down to his level before gently wrapping an arm around him, quietly guiding him out of the room so you wouldn't draw anymore attention to yourselves, murmuring soft reassurances to him on your way out. You led him outside to the back porch, the freezing night air greeting you both with an occasional gust of wind.

Once outside, you crouched back down to his eye level, brushing a few stray hairs that stuck to his tear-stricken face. “Cheol," you quietly start off, your voice no louder than a whisper. "Are you okay? It's just a movie, I promise.” you quietly soothed, your thumb brushing away his tears. But as if your reassurances had no affect on him, Cheol's sobs grew louder, his hands that were balled into fists holding the bunched up fabric of his shorts suddenly shot up, hooking around your neck as he buried himself into your shoulder, his body heaving and shuddering as sobs continued to wrack out of him.

His small frame trembled wildly in your arms, each gasp of air cutting straight into your heart. “I-I want my sister,” he choked out between sobs, his voice thin and broken, laced with a despair that nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Without a second thought, you held him closer to your frame. “Okay, okay." you murmured softly, keeping your voice steady. "I'll go grab the house phone and we'll give her a call, okay?” you reassured. You brought him inside and guided him to sit by the door before untangling yourself from his grip. Quickly, you hurry towards the hall closet and grab a spare blanket, draping it over his form before saying "I'll be right back, will you be okay while I go back into the movie room for a second?" and even as his cries subsided into quiet sniffles with the occasional sob, he nodded, holding the wrapped blanket around himself even tighter as you bolted towards the movie room.

You tip-toed back into the room, slipping inside as quietly as you could. The glow of the projector filled the space and casted shadows over the walls and all of the children's dazed faces. Walking over to your mom who had been fighting a losing battle with sleep in her arm chair, her head lolling off to the side before shooting back up, only to repeat the movement again and again. Reaching her side, you tap her arm gently, before gently clasping both of your hands together in a pleading motion. "Please, please, I need your phone." you quietly whisper. With furrowed eyebrows and blurred vision she mumbles out a gruff "Why?"

"Um, Cheol really needs to talk to his sister. Please, it's urgent." You admit quietly, your hands flying around in a gesture of urgency. Your tone softened but the desperation clear with the slight crack in your voice. With an annoyed sigh, she waved you off. Mumbling out a barely coherent sentence "Her-mm-m-phone number—mm-fridge."

Shooting off of the floor, you quietly tip-toe out of the room and hurried towards the kitchen. As you pass the back door your eyes landed on Cheol. He sat slumped on the floor, his back on the glass pane of the back door, the blanket still wrapped tightly around him as his shoulders still shook with cries. The sight making you quicken your pace.

Reaching the fridge, your eyes quickly scan the fridge covered in magnets and pictures until you find a list of phone numbers. Your finger trailing down found the list of numbers on the fridge, until you see 'Kang Sae-Byeok'. You whisper her name under your breath, repeating her number like a mantra, leaving your lips in a whisper as you type it into the orphanages landline, in your head praying that she picks up.

The dial tone droned on—one second, then three, then six, then ten until you're met with the sound of the hollow monotonous tone of an automated message. A frustrated sigh leaving your lips, before you unknowingly start to nibble on the nail of your, a nervous habit you struggled to shake.

The beep signaling to leave a voicemail made my discouraged slouched position stand up straight, "Uh, Sae-Byeok, Hi. So, It—um was movie night tonight here and the movie we watched really scared Cheol and he's asking for you. Please, if you have the time to swing by to talk to him, I'd really appreciate it, He's really upset and could use your help. But—um I guess you're busy right now, so, just come by whenever you get this. Annnnd, Oh! This is Kim Y/n, Calling off of the orphanages home phone, if—uh, if you didn't know. ahem, okay bye." Hanging the phone up, you bring both of your hands to cover your face, your eyebrows pinching in embarrassment as you slowly shook your head. "What the fuck was that about?" you quietly murmur to yourself before making your way towards Cheol, a hesitance in the way you walked. "How am I going to tell Cheol?" you ask yourself, your frown deepening at the thought as you traded back to his figure.

He was still curled under the blankets, his cheeks a soft rosy color, slightly damp from the onslaught of tears that had come to a stop from his now bloodshot eyes. You sat yourself next to him, bringing your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I'm sorry, Cheol. I couldn’t reach her,” You quietly admitted. “But I’m here, okay? You’re not alone.”

He didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched out between you two, heavy, and thick with no movement. The whistling sound of wind being heard from the glass back door along with the muffled noise from the movie filled the silence.

After a long pause, he leaned into you again, resting his head on your side without a word. Your heart swelled at the amount of trust he had in you, a fragile thing you dared not to take for granted. Wrapping an arm around him once more, and leaning your head on the back door, the feeling of the cold glass soothing the heat that radiated off of your scalp. You whispered to him quiet reassurances, a hand rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him and slowly, his jagged breathing steadied, and his sniffles subsided.

Feeling his form slump further into yours gave you the signal that he was fast asleep. Slowly unraveling his figure from beside yours, you hook your arms under his legs and behind his back, lifting him up bridal style to carry him back to his bed.

Slipping out of the house as quietly as you could, leaving with a tight farewell to your mother and a wave to the kids, the weight of the evening still pressing hard on you even on the drive back home with the windows down. Your thoughts tangled with the same persistent questions: Where was Sae-Byeok? Why hadn't she answered or called back? Was she safe? You knew she was strong but the silence on the other end of the line felt deafening which worried you. The questions buzzed in your mind, a storm of uncertainty you couldn’t seem to escape.

Before you could fall too far down the rabbit hole, your phone buzzed on the passenger seat, David's name and his face taking over the screen, a sigh leaving you as you threw your head back against your headrest. Eyes remaining on the road as you grab your phone and answer it. A small “Hi.” leaving your lips, even you couldn't hide the strain in your voice.

“Hey, sexy.” His voice was cheerful, sultry, a stark contrast to the knot of exhaustion that sat in your chest. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. It’s been too long without having you in my arms." he comments, a soft sigh escaping his lips. You pretended to not hear the muffled chatter of a female voice in the background, giggling and mocking his words to which he replied with a quiet laugh himself and a quiet "shh."

“Yeah,” You replied, forcing some enthusiasm into your tone although it still sounded flat. “Me too.” you added, but even you could hear the exhaustion mixed with irritation bleeding through your words.

There was a pause, then a faint edge to his voice. “You—don’t really sound excited.” a dry chuckle escaping his lips, something he did when he was annoyed, which he was a lot.

“No, I am! Really, I Promise” You followed up quickly, trying your hardest to convince him as well as yourself, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to make up for your lack of enthusiasm, hm?” he sneered, his tone tight and laced with something sharp. “Anyway, you sound tired. I’ll let you get back to… yknow whatever it is you’re doing. Hopefully you're in a better mood tomorrow, yeah?" His farewell sounding more like a threat. Not a hope for you to feel better but more of a you will.

The line went dead before you could respond leaving you to stare at the road ahead, your phone tossed to the side as a scoff escaped you. His words replaying in your mind. Backhanded and dismissive, they left a sour taste in your mouth, rolling down the window to let cool air brush through your hair.

Fuck David.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here @monroesturnns

[dduane]

It's deeply frustrating to me sometimes how difficult it can be to get the lighting right in these when you've got a situation in which the light levels should be moderately low. I've been poking at this one (off @lookadreygon 's comment in the notes on this image) for some days now, in between doing other things, and every time one thing gets fixed, something else turns out to be wrong.

(This time it's the grass. It shouldn't be that damn green when the trees have turned color. I need to brown it down.)

The main difficulty is that if you overstate the lighting, it looks fake. But if you understate it out of a desire to have the scene look natural, you can't see anything. So you wind up walking a strange tightrope in which you have to keep adding invisible light sources, while (a) making sure they don't interfere with one another and (b) making sure they seem to be obeying the rules of reality, even when sometimes they're not.

That sunset, for example. It looks bright, but the file that expresses it—which has real-world sky-light levels encoded in it—is nonetheless not bright enough by itself to properly illuminate the characters. (And if you turn the sky's light up higher, in this case it not only looks fake, but washes all its warm colors out.)

So you wind up having to cheat. The light-from-in-front on Dusty and Lorn is mostly produced by two lights of a three-light "portrait light" rig. That had to be rotated and tweaked repeatedly to imitate the "key lighting" effect I wanted, and to look believable as sunlight, even though it's not exactly in line with the Sun.

And then there's the issue of lighting their backs, which were almost invisible without help. That meant I needed to add another light source behind them, diffuse, but just strong enough to look like it might be due to sunset skylighting coming from behind them. See the little checkered dish thing in the image below? That's it: a so-called "ghost light". It's been instructed to emit light just a touch cooler in temperature than the sunset in front of the guys.

...And having hung up all this hardware, you render it and get the image you see in the top of the post.

(sigh) With that grass. Maybe I'll take another run at that tomorrow.

...What will happen to this image, you may ask? (shrug) Damned if I know. This kind of work simply counts as a Honing My Craft thing, as the more one works with this platform, the smarter one may be able to get at using it.

(I emphasize the "may"...) :)

Meanwhile, that blue Fire's not right either. Which one of them is responsible for it? (Because, post-War, it might be either one of them.) But Goddess knows, that's an old, old story. I've been fighting with it for years... sometimes with very peculiar results.

(sigh) A detail for another day...

[lacucarachapisser]

successfully failed colin zabel x f!reader

warning : husband! colin, pregnancy announcement, silly arguments, cringe-fluff, tooth-rooting, bullying as flirting, reader being mean and so is colin prolly ooc lol and lil bit hurt-comfort.

a/n : another fluff because why not, this man is so cute and i want to spoil him. im sorry this was rushed and cliché and apologies for my broken english and any grammatical errors. 1.4k wc.

it was because of your period tracker apps says you’re late, you ended up biting your t-shirt end, struggling in the bathroom alone to see what the second test pack is gonna tell. yes, the second. you still could not believe the two strips had appeared on the first you have held on your other hand. blame the trust issues you could never overcome along with some sort of dread overwhelming anticipation that rudely kicking in. but here you are alone, accompanied by your own half naked reflection in the mirror. a slight smile occur on your lips, you held the two test packs as it was a big evidence you’d need to shown to your man. your always busy man.

colin, i’m pregnant.

it wont be an easy way to tell, as a matter of factly. gosh, you really want to surprise him with that news, but you have a situation within these past two days. the problem began when you’re craving in the middle of the night but since colin had not home yet, you texted him to get you something from your favorite japanese restaurant, but he was being careless, didn’t checked his phone so he went home with an empty hand, and those stupid thing led into a silly arguments.

“where’s my oyako-don?”

“your oya-what?”

it’s almost 10pm that night and clearly he looked so tired and absolutely exhausted, but you didn’t like how colin use his tone. you have waited him in the company of growling stomach and hoping you can enjoy ayako-don with your love one. instead, you had to swallow his irksome attitude.

“sorry, got no time to check the phone. if you’re hungry, you can eat something from the fridge. i’m tired, i need to sleep,”

“and if you’re sleepy you can always use the couch.”

defense. you can be much more annoying. of course he gets annoyed, and as much with his dismay at that time, he glared with a deep inhales and strong exhales came out from his nose.

“seriously,”

“well, i’m just saying.” you shrugged and pretended didn’t care.

he didn’t say anything as he quickly picked up the quilt you had spread on the top of the couch. he was too tired to make the conversation on. you left him, headed to the bedroom and deliberately slam the door hard so he can hear it.

and that morning, after you found out that you’re pregnant, you realize that you have to talk things out and fix your oyako-don situation. it’s colin’s day off, he probably still asleep and the thought of him still curled up in the couch while you announce the news and give him the evidence make you feel giddy.

you didn’t think much as you put your pants on, hide the test packs on your pocket, wash your hand and walk out from the bathroom to approach your man.

and there he is, curled up at the couch in front of the TV, hugging the quilt like a little kid. you admire him from afar and the stupid fight scene from yesterday suddenly come to your head. you have no idea why you can be so dramatic and moody? and not to mention —the feeling of a slight hatred while seeing his face was also there. no, you could never hate him that’s for sure. was this all happen because of the bean inside you? damn right hormones.

after some considerable thought, you ended up choose to wake him with the coffee scent. you carry those two cute mugs so that you can make him open his eyes from the smell of the coffee you have made. but before you could come closer at him, one of the mug slipped from your hand and scattered around the floor. and that’s how he woke up. never the plan. you cursed to yourself as you pick up all the pieces.

he gets up from the couch and walk towards you. you can feel it from the corner of your eyes when he gets closer to your presence. he squats in front of you when your eyes still searching the little pieces all over the floor.

“that’s your favorite mug,”

“careful,”

you didn’t mean to let your voice came out that harsh but your mouth is a beast. sometimes she acts without your consent.

“cranky,” he comments. your mood is okay when he’s quiets, but when he started saying something, you can’t help but feel lightly annoyed.

“and again someone’s gonna force me drive 3 hours straight just to get to the specific antique shop.”

you glared at him, hoping that he would shush but he scoffs and pretty sure enjoy the teasing very much.

“i can drive myself.”

“not a chance. you probably back with just one side mirror.”

you quickly get up and he follows you.

“you think you’re so funny?”

“uh-huh,” his hostile attitude emerges, you couldn’t quite withstand the tears that seems ready to spill any time.

“what’s wrong with you?” you snapped and you clearly could feel the heat of anger start creeping through your pores.

“what’s wrong with you.” yeah what is wrong with you? it’s all practically a joke. blame the hormones!

his demeanor looks amused and triumph by your reaction, he totally thinks he’s winning.

“this….” you aim the mess you have made on the floor. “i… i was planning on being nice today because i have something to tell you and i wanted to fix whatever happen between us,” you suddenly get very emotional and sentimental, you don’t even know how you should feel anyway, anger and sad taking over the happiness you have had earlier.

you pull out the two test packs from your pocket and burst in tears.

“i-i was going to surprise you..” you mumble, holding up your voice so that it wouldn’t sound too pathetic.

colin slowly takes the test packs and stare at it. he certainly feel bad to tease you in a very sunny day particularly his day off. he supposed to spend time with you doing something fun rather than arguing silly thing. however, he pulls you in his embrace as you start sobbing. see now, you’re winning.

“oh shit.. shit.. baby,” he grasps your body tight, burying your face to his chest, hand instinctively moved to the small of your back brushing it up and down. he squeezes your shoulder dearly, murmuring your name and sorry, shushing you hoping that it could stop the cries as he still stared at the test packs he held on one hand.

“look at me,” he whispered and it makes you sobbed a little harder. “come on, look at me..”

you managed to look up to see his face with tears still gather on the corner of your each eyes. he starts kissing your eyelids alternately. “oh my sweet girl, carrying my child. i’m sorry sweetie,”

an affectionate proud smile come across his lips, his hands cupping your face and the thumbs softly swipe your tears away. he gently pulling you close as his lips brushed against yours in a sweet lingering kiss. a warm presence that sent sparks of electricity flying through you, feeling loved, a heartfelt moment you needed the most.

“i am a terrible husband,”

that’s not true of course. you don’t have the energy to say something so you just shake your head slowly.

“how about we restart. lets make your plan come smooth, like i know nothing and we can create a proper memory. what do you think?”

you exhale and press your lips together. “well..”

“hm? what do you want to tell me baby?” he started his acting and it actually sounds pretty hilarious.

“i-i’m pregnant,”

he picks your body up until you can not touch the floor, spinning and twirling you around happily. your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, putting all your strength in there. his hand against your waist feel ticklish and you can’t help but giggle. “colin! there still might be piece of break somewhere here,”

but instead responding at your warning, he fondly kisses you. “i can’t believe i’m gonna be a dad. and you’d be absolute great mom.” and he kisses you one more time. gosh you are so full of love, a simple soft smile smearing your face.

“better?”

“m-hm,”

“still i like you being cranky. the c in cranky stands for cute.”

so you fulfill. what he say goes. you pull his ear and pinch it as a punishment.

“aw.. okay.. okay. sorry.”

you could have simply let it go, but it is the right time to get revenge after all his teasing.

“please,” he mutters plea. finally.

“oyako-don.”

“granted!”

this time, you put a hard kiss on his cheeks. and only then do you realize you have the absolute bestest husband.

-

-

-

another notes : thank you so very much for reading, every like reblog and comment are appreciate i can not thank you enough for that. those act itself could makes me alive and motivated so that i can write more for you, for me, for us. ((your comment and reblog actually could pay my bills im not even joking)). love yall sm.

[zombeebunnie]

Happy New year: Future plans regarding Trembling Essence!

Hello guys, hope you all are having a wholesome happy new year so far! I want to start things fresh so here's what to expect:

Here's a TLDR if you want an easy summary: Game updates might be every two weeks - one month, the script for the game is being updated which includes removing some scrapped content to make sure the overall story gets a better opportunity to shine. I am also working on updating ko-fi/patreon + commissions.

Updates regarding Trembling Essence:

Game development posts: I enjoyed uploading weekly* updates during 2023/2024 but starting this year, I no longer have that much free time anymore. Depending on how everything goes updates might(?) be every two weeks to possibly 1 month(???). In lighter news it'll give myself time to process the script, answer asks, and miscellaneous things to avoid burn-out. :,] Script fixing: When I originally created this in January 2023, I was going for a survival horror-game. The 2023 demo isn't canon and I stopped referencing it since March/April 2023. Now that it has both horror and dating-sim elements I'm going over certain sections/new concepts and slowly adjusting them. The original lore isn't being changed but will be updated over time with my improved writing style and overall story telling. This also includes all the routes/paths that weren't in the [Extended Demo]. Scrapped content: I was extremely new to everything and when genuine interest was shown in what I've been creating, I got very ambitious . ((Those that have been here since the early days probably remember that one post I made about writing over 10+ routes.:,]))Now that I'm getting a better idea of what I truly want for the game, some content moving forward will be cut to make sure the true story gets a better opportunity to shine. :]

Other things that will be updated within the game:

UI/GUI update - I want to give the game a more distinctive theme. :]

CG update - Specifically fixing old art from the [Extended Demo].

Art Gallery - For CG collecting, future easter eggs etc.

Route update - Fixing paths and keeping them balanced.

Ending's update - Fixing endings to line up with new/changed content.

Kofi / Patreon: I talked about wanting to create a Patreon a long time ago and I really would like to create a monthly-tip jar / possible game credit perk for those that would like to support the development of the game, this is still a work in progress though. And speaking of Ko-fi, I had been asked about doing commissions in the past and I wasn't ready to accept any but I hope to take in a few to help out behind the scenes especially since the battery to my computer is still dead and I don't want to risk losing game progress again from it randomly shorting out like before. :,]

Sneak peak into next week's game development post:

I wanted to keep the development post separate from this so it wouldn't make this post super long but here's a vague look into how things being updated behind the scenes! :]

This is all I have to share so far, thank you guys for all of the continued support throughout 2024! I hope 2025 will be just as great if not better! :,D

[cirusthecitrus]

Question 6 from the entrapdak question game? :))

Thank you for the ask! There are two terrible takes that to this day make me believe that some antis watched spop skipping every scene that had Hordak in it

Well, the first one is more of a crazy conspiracy theory, but I still wanna mention it - "Entrapdak is a pedo ship cause Entrapta was meant to be a teenager" and "her age was actually retconned so the writers could ship Entrapta with Hordak". I do wish that Entrapta's age was confirmed in the show itself, cause this aspect of her character did genuiely confused a lot of fans, but thinking that she was actually written as a minor but then was aged up just cause the writers wanted to make entrapdak less problematic?? Insane

The other take is "entrapdak bad because Hordak was manipulating Entrapta to work for him and was abusive towards her". And it used to be such a prevalent opinion in the main fandom too! I honestly think those people just hated Hordak sooo much (mainly for being a threat to Catra) that they were making shit up to make him even more evil and irredeemable so everyone would stop liking him or wishing him a happy ending. Many also loved Entrapta, but hated Hordak so much that they imagined he'd be a terrible partner to her and were insisting that she "deserved better" and was actually unhappy with him (some fake ass Entrapta fans imo) Like, lets dissect this take again. At first, as fellow Hordak fans always say, Hordak couldn't even manipulate himself out of a plastic bag. Plus there wasnt a single scene where Hordak manipulates Entrapta to do smth for him. It was Catra who made Entrapta side with the Horde and convinced her to work for them. Hordak didnt mind, but he also had no say in this. And when they became lab partners it was Entrapta who forced herself into Hordak's lab and in his life, she was the one always insisting on getting information and knowledge out of him, who insisted on working with him, bro just could not make her leave!

Many used to say Hordak was only using Entrapta for her skills (and also didnt care about her as a person, like hello?? have they seen s4 and 5?) when Hordak never made her do anything she wasnt intersted in - he didnt made Entrapta help him build the portal, she was already curious about portals! he didnt make her take care of him or build him a new set of armor, it was her gift! and he was never forcing Entrapta to stay by his side or be loyal to him or the Horde - she simply enjoyed working on this project and spending time with him. And when Hordak was told that she betrayed him he just... accepted it and never thought about revenge or punishment or anything like that. And he wasnt angry cause he lost a tool that could upgrade his tech or fix his problems, he was devastated because he lost his only friend. But you know who only saw Entrapta as a tool-

Then the abuse part - by that antis usually meant those two moments when he yelled at her/ cut her off while being in pain (and also brushed off Entrapta's hair). Like, yeah, Hordak has anger issues and he does scream a lot, and my boy should work on that, but such behaviour never made Entrapta feel distressed or afraid of him. She was either unbothered by Hordak's attempts at being scary and intimidating, or she was sad FOR him (and slightly dissapointed) - she never took his outbirsts as Hordak being genuinely mad at her, she knew smth was wrong with him, but it had nothing to do with her. He yells when he tries to imitate Prime and make ppl leave him alone, or when he's in so much pain he can't handle it and once again wants to be left alone (all because he himself doesnt feel safe around ppl T-T). Should he still apologize for snapping at Entrapta? Yeah. But is such behaviour abusive? I can be, but in case of Hordak? I dont think so

[k3nz1ekorn]

Jayvik Actor au- Karaoke confessions pt.1

Character cheat sheet: Viktor-Vladamie/Vlad, Jayce-Joel, Vi-Viola, Cait-Cathrin/Cat, Mel-Miah, Savannah- Sevika, Sky- Skyler, Powder/Jinx-Piper, Ekko-Elijah

Preview- Vlad’s driver had dropped them off outside the bar roughly half an hour ago and there was no sign of Joel. He had stressed over his outfit for an hour in total and the one man he was trying to impress wasn’t even here. He took another sip of his drink and let his eyes drift around the room for the umpteenth time, fiddling with the end of his came in his free hand. His cropped band shirt came down to his waist, covered by the open button up Viola had insisted on. The choice left a nice section of his stomach uncovered before it was met with his dark green cargo pants, not his first choice but his favorite brace for dancing was more comfortable with the slightly thicker fabric. Even without his ideal pants, he looked good and he knew it. He just wished the object of his affection would show up so he could prove it.

Minor Caitvi and Melvika in this one. They get like a full paragraph though.

Vlad was jealous. It was a plain and simple fact. Why? Joel Torres. His own filming for Arcane was on hold the past few days since they were focussed on other scenes, not a problem, He had plenty of other projects to fill his time with! Unfortunately this did mean he hadn’t seen Joel since Monday. It was currently Friday. The absolute horror, am I right? And though that would be changing tonight, having set plans for over a week now, it didn’t help the ugly emotion that had been churning in his gut. The media had started a rumor that there was something going on between his costars Miah and Joel, and while he knew it wasn’t true, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes and huff every time he got a “Sorry, Joel and I need to run lines, can we do lunch tomorrow?” or an even worse “im with miah ill see you friday” from Joel (and his lack of proper grammar over text), which by the way, ouch? That had been sent on Wednesday and no communication had been had between the two since. That’s actually what brings us to the current topic and conversation, the one about him being jealous.

The stars of Arcane were all finally going out for drinks together, as actual friends he might add, and due to the varying degrees of fame amongst them, they’d booked a VIP room at Viola’s favorite karaoke bar for the night. Viola, Miah, and himself were currently in varying states of the getting ready process in his living room. Miah was sitting on his patterned blue rug in front of the couch with her makeup and a mirror on the coffee table in front of her, she currently wore his bathrobe over her white skirt and cropped pink baby tee to avoid getting makeup on anything. Viola was in his kitchen just ten feet away absolutely decimating his liquor cabinet, and he was sitting behind Miah on his gray velvet couch, using her mirror to fix his hair for the 15th time.

“Vlad I’m telling you to just ask him the fuck out, okay?” Viola popped back up from under the counter and set down three shot glasses, proceeding to pour them some of his…when did he buy whiskey? He doesn’t drink whiskey. “It’s been WEEKS now of fuck me eyes back and forth around the lot,” She punctuated her words with a dramatic lean to the side and a wave of the hand,” and I’m out $30 if one of you can’t get it together and make a damn move by the end of filming. Do you want me to be out $30?” Their head snapped to look in Vlad’s direction, an accusatory finger following. “Because I thought-”

“You and Joel will be in the same vicinity tonight, I would not recommend that once we leave.” That earned him a laugh from Miah and a dramatic groan of annoyance from Viola. She picked up their tray of shots and walked around the breakfast bar into the living room. Tonight they were donned in chest tape with an open cropped black jacket over it, a pair of black jeans and studded boots to complete the look. She set the tray down and sat beside him on the couch. He didn’t need to look at them to know they were facing him.

“Uncalled for, there hasn’t been an incident in over a week and you know it. Plus who else is gonna be your wingman? Cat ain’t subtle and whenever Miah gets within five feet of him it’s on the cover of Teen magazine.” He cringed a bit at that, it was true after all. It was also the entire reason they were having this conversation at all. Another cover shot of Joal and Miah’s “lunch date” as the article had put it.

“I’d hardly call your methods subtle, besides I don’t know how many times I have to tell you he isn’t interested. He doesn’t seem like the type to...what was that saying Miah?” He makes eye contact with her in the mirror, “Beat the bush? It had to do with a bush.” He finally looks over at Viola as she downs her shot.

“Beat around the bush dear. And no, he’s not. That’s what we’re trying to tell you.” Miah finally speaks as she blends out her blush. “We’ve already established he’s not interested in me, nor I him. You can even ask him if you really want to know for sure.” She gives him a pointed look and closes her compact with a satisfying click. He breaks their eye contact to reach for his cane. He’d had enough of this conversation to be frank, and needed to finish getting dressed. 

“Maybe I will hmm? Who knows what the night will bring, but in the meantime, please do not burn down my apartment while I change.” That was definitely directed at Viola. “I’m moving in a few months and I’d like my deposit back, thank you.” He turns to go to his bedroom, his exit is punctuated with the soft clicks of his cane, and as Viola watches him go she doesn’t know whether she wants to scream or cry at his obliviousness. 

“He could tell the moment you set your sights on someone, but has no idea when someone does the same for him?” The question is directed at Miah, who looks to be nearly done with her makeup. A joint sigh escapes them both as they make eye contact. It’s like a light bulb appears above Viola’s head as a smirk makes its way across her face and Miah knows what she’s going to say before the words even escape her mouth. “Speaking of…how’s that going? Savannah right?”

She can tell Miah’s blushing under her perfectly applied makeup and gives a nudge of encouragement with her foot. The woman bats her foot away and rolls her eyes. “Yes Savannah. We’re only texting right now, nothing’s…going yet. But I invited her tonight so with a little liquid courage and half an edible I think I’ll work up the nerve to ask her out.” She unclips her shoulder length butterfly locs and gives her head a shake to help fix them before she turns off her mirror’s light. With a little uncertainty she takes a deep breath and turns to face her friend. “How did you…when you asked out Cat…uh…any pointers?” Her head tilts to the side with an awkward smile

Viola barks out a laugh and leans over to hand the other her previously forgotten shot. Miah immediately downs it gratefully and lets out a little chuckle before continuing. “Men are easy for me, y'know? I can flirt with them no problem, go on dates with them, text, but with Savi? It’s like I can’t even get a word out…” She leans herself back against the couch defeated, following the way the fan spins with her eyes. She hears the way Viola sucks her teeth before replying with an almost cautious tone.

“Honestly? No idea. Cathrin asked me out. Walked up to me after an audition I did at Kurtmen Studios and said I’d ‘gotten the part of her date’ for that Saturday." They share another chuckle, “Best I can tell you is to just dive in and hope for the best…she’s definitely a lesbian though, I looked into it for you.”

“...oh?”

“Yep. Half her posts tag that Lesbian bar on the other side of town and the other half are selfies at the gym or hiking.”

“Vi that sounds like yo- oh. Yeah I believe you.”

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Vlad’s driver had dropped them off outside the bar roughly half an hour ago and there was no sign of Joel. He had stressed over his outfit for an hour in total and the one man he was trying to impress wasn’t even here. He took another sip of his drink and let his eyes drift around the room for the umpteenth time, fiddling with the end of his came in his free hand. His cropped band shirt came down to his waist, covered by the open button up Viola had insisted on. The choice left a nice section of his stomach uncovered before it was met with his dark green cargo pants, not his first choice but his favorite brace for dancing was more comfortable with the slightly thicker fabric. Even without his ideal pants, he looked good and he knew it. He just wished the object of his affection would show up so he could prove it. 

He was brought out of his thoughts when the stool next to him scraped against the floor and it was pulled out, a set of blue eyes and a blonde beard coming into view as the newcomer ordered. He heard him say a whiskey on the rocks, and being a drink or two in at this point, decided he'd make the most of his night. The bartender set down the drink and out of the corner of his eye he saw Viola go up to sing Wannabe by the Spice Girls again.

“Whiskey eh? I’m more of a vodka man myself, but maybe their selection here is a bit better than what I’m used to.” He faced the other as he vocalized his thoughts and realized he recognized him, he had seen him at a queer club Miah had dragged him to last weekend. He’d definitely been checking Vlad out. 

“It’s not my usual go to, but I’m gearing up to buy this guy a drink and needed an extra push. Sitting right next to me actually, you think he’d want one?” The man raised his eyebrow and took a long sip of his drink. Vlad let the side of his mouth curl into a half smile and chuckled.

“I think he’d like a shot of vodka. And a name to go with such a cute face.” His head came to rest on his hand as he spoke, cane now resting against his inner leg The other quickly waved down the bartender and ordered the shot while Vlad finished the remainder of his drink. 

“I’m Charlie. Yknow when my friend said he was gonna get us into an exclusive bar, I didn’t expect to see so many famous faces. Yours included.” The shot was set down and Vlad raised it to his new counterpart before downing it. His eyes stayed on the bar for a moment as he responded.

“Oh? So you know me then? And here I thought you just wanted a drink with a handsome stranger?” He was only half teasing. It would have been nice to not be recognized, but with his rising fame it was becoming harder and harder to find possible partners that didn’t already know who he was. He asked for another vodka soda.

Charlie made no indication he was bothered by what was just said, even laughing along, but as he made a move to respond he tensed a bit, leaning just a bit farther away and eyes widening in an almost confused way, it would have been comical in any other circumstance. His eyes had focused on something behind Vlad and he himself now felt a presence in the previously empty space behind him. It was familiar, and he scrunched up his face in curiosity before swiveling around just a bit to see who it was.

“You can go. Sorry to keep you waiting Vladimir, Cat and I got into a bit of an argument before we left.” Joel quickly came into sight and claimed the bar stool on the other side of him, eyes not leaving Charlie’s. Vlad made a noise of confusion and shook his head in a way he really hoped was nonchalant.

“Oh uh…” Fuck “You didn’t! Viola’s stage presence has had me captivated until just a minute ago, Charlie and I were just talking.” The man in question looked between the two a few times, trying to gauge the situation. Joel raised a brow at him when Vlad had turned back to the blond, eyes narrowing just a tad.

“I said you can go?” and oh was he gone. Departing with a quick nod of his head and walking quickly in another direction. Vlad’s face scrunched up in confusion. He thought they were heading somewhere with their conversation too. With only mild disappointment, he shrugged and turned his attention to Joel, whose eyes had found their way back to Vlad the moment Charlie had hurried off. He had an unreadable look on his face as Vlad’s eyes found his and silence overtook them. 

Joel briefly looked to the bartender to order a glass of tequila when Vlad’s drink was brought over and Vlad unwillingly made a mental note to try tequila the next time he went out. He’d already mixed alcohol enough for one night and he didn’t want to be totally incoherent now that the object of his desires had reared his beautiful head. Not a word was spoken as whoever was next went up on stage and Joel took a sip from his first drink of the night. Vlad was the first to break the silence, he usually was he noted.

“You look good tonight, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of costume now that I think about it. Green’s a good color on you.” This was true, he’d only ever seen the other man in their Arcane costumes and the occasional jacket to avoid spilling anything on it. He looked good. He was dressed in a fitted dark green sweater over a dark grey button up shirt, though how anything fit under that sweater with how tight it seemed to be was a mystery. He had on black pleated slacks and dark grey shoes, a bit professional for a bar but who was he to judge. What caught his eye most was the gold chain around his neck, with a beautiful blue rock hanging from it. He’d seen it before, on a bracelet Joel always wore on set. It must be interchangeable? Or part of a set? Eh who cares, he was two seconds away from drooling- Oh shit his mouth was open. He snapped his jaw shut with a light click and cleared his throat, eyes looking anywhere but the man beside him. Embarrassment heavy on the air around him.

Joel waited a moment before responding, “Thanks. I like this sweater. It’s soft, see?” An arm was held out in front of him and Vlad actually didn’t have time to be embarrassed about the way his hand shot out to feel along Joel’s bicep and forearm. It was definitely soft…and did so very little to hide the absolute unit of an arm underneath it. 

“I see…very nice, yes.” He said as he brought his arm back down to his pocket. Joel gave a hum of approval and threw a glance over Vlad’s shoulder again before letting his eyes come back to the other’s. 

They got into a comfortable conversation from there, Vlad very animatedly talking about this or that, Joel making comments here and there. They both found they had a mutual love of horror films, both loving the Evil Dead franchise and the remake of The Invisible Man. A comment was made that they should make plans to see something together once they had more free time, and Vlad plays off the flush oh his face with being just a bit buzzed.

“So’s that your type?” Vlad absolutely froze at the words.

“You mean Charlie?” He asked in an almost perplexed curiosity. Why were they talking about him again, it had been nearly an hour since he’d gone on his way.

“If that was his name.” He had to find an answer soon with the way Joel was staring at him. The thing was, while yes that was his type, he had his ideal specimen of a man sitting directly next to him…who also coincidentally fit the majority of the criteria he preferred, more so that the blond had in fact. He cleared his throat and let his eyes fall to the floor for a second, drink swirling in his hand while he thought of an answer.

“For the most part, give or take the ehh…facial hair I suppose?” Was that subtle? Oh gods it definitely wasn’t. Where was Viola? She was meant to be a wingman tonight for him. He dared a glance at the other as the words rolled off his tongue, she had said to be more forward anyways.

“Hm. Definitely not my type but we all have our preferences.” Joel shrugged as he answered. He felt himself deflate just the smallest bit as he decided to ask a bold and very clarifying question. 

“Oh? Like men in general?” Fuck fuck fuck abort abort abort-

“No. Men are fine, he’s just not my type.”  Vladimir’s head had never in his life whipped up so fast, and he had never been so embarrassed about a reaction as when his gaze locked onto a pair of beautiful golden eyes, staring right into his soul.

“Ah. I see.” He responded slowly.

“I just prefer a smaller partner. Eye color is all wrong too.” Joel broke their eye contact for the first time as he glanced at a loud crash across the room. Vlad couldn’t bear to look away from his face at that moment.

Was he flirting? Was it just one too many drinks and an active imagination? He didn’t think he’d had enough to make himself lose his perception of those around him, but maybe it was time to call it quits for the night. His mouth suddenly felt very dry as he watched Joel’s eyes drift back to his own.

“I’ll be back. I’d like to talk more.” Joel downed the remainder of his drink and stood up, “I like talking to you…Vlad. Apologies for not being able to see you much this last week.” Heat crept up his neck as we watched the taller man walk away towards the commotion. He could now clearly see Piper, another castmate of theirs, had been the cause. He couldn’t be bothered to figure out what was happening though, too lost in thought about the conversation he’d just had.

Author's note: Im like a fly rubbing my hands together in an evil way whenever i write bc i just love making vik flustered

[rexferg]

I know it’s been nearly three weeks but from enjoying my vacation to my flights being delayed last week until Sunday to my first week back at work being absolutely hectic and finding out I have a hairline fracture — I’ve made the decision to wait until Sunday to post the next chapter of OOTW. I really, really tried to be able to have everything completed for today and I’m so, so close but it’s for the best. 🩵

I’m so excited for y’all to read this chapter though. In my opinion, it’s worth the wait, and I hope you think it is, too.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

"See you tomorrow"

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 4 [prev parts]

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[rainintheevening]

Not Dead

(A Saving Grant Ward AU)

"Come on, Hill." Grant's face hurts, and he's tired. "Why'd you pull me out of the field? I mean, it wasn't for a history lesson."

Maria Hill looks away for a moment, takes a deeper breath than maybe necessary, says quietly, "You'll have to ask Coulson."

Grant stiffens, the cold finger of her words tracing still-tender scars, and he thins his lips, answers sharp. "Phil Coulson is dead."

Her gaze drops, and so does his stomach. A breath, as if to speak, before she sighs, shakes her head.

"Actually, no."

It isn't Maria who speaks, no, it's a voice he knows, the voice of his conscience and his comfort, a voice he's not supposed to be hearing, and he's on his feet before his training takes hold, keeps him from backing away.

There's a ghost in this room, stepping out of the shadows, Coulson looking him in the eye.

"I'm... not dead."

For a moment the world turns upside down, he can't breathe, his vision greys... Before he catches himself, turns away sharply. "Don't," and no matter how dead he tries to keep his voice, he hears the tremor. "Don't do this to me."

Maria avoids his gaze, crosses her arms over her chest, glares at the man who can't be Coulson. "Coulson! You were supposed to let me ease him into it."

Coulson sighs, like he used to sigh when he'd forgotten to buy the right kind of hot sauce on wing night, and was about to go get the keys and drive to the store right then, because Grant wouldn't eat his wings without it. An apology. "Sorry, I just couldn't wait to see you again. Also I think there's a bulb out back there. I wasn't trying to be that dramatic."

Grant snorts, he can't help shaking his head as he looks back at the man whose response to finding out an angry customer had hit Grant over the head with her purse was show up at her house and tell her she'd go to jail if she ever shopped at Walmart again. "Even got someone who talks like him," he says, anger starting to smolder in his gut. He was done, done his grieving, he'd sworn to live and look forward, to honour his dad's Coulson's legacy.

Phil is worried. He's been worrying over how to tell Grant since... Tahiti, he thinks, but, no, it had been too peaceful there to be worrying. So, at least since Fury had lifted the lockdown on him.

He remembers the day Lady had been killed by a car, the limp body in Grant's arms, and how Grant had screamed for him, called him 'dad' for the first time.

"Try to go easy on him," Maria had said.

He'd raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

She'd stopped in the hallway, frowned at him. "Coulson, he had to bury you. The only person he cares about, and he had to bury you. He took two weeks' vacation after the funeral."

Phil had frowned then too. "He took time off?"

"Yes! Two. Weeks. Disappeared, off the radar. No one knows where he went, or what he was doing. He's never said."

So yes, Phil's worried, watching the tense line of Grant's shoulders, the way his eyes say he doesn't believe yet, and he's getting angry about it.

"Grant," he says, and the other man startles. "I'm sorry. But it is me. No tricks, no lies."

Phil moves forward slowly, as if trying not to frighten a skittish animal. Grant says nothing, watching him with those burning eyes, until he reaches out, grips Grant's upper arm gently but firmly. The other man flinches, hard enough to make Phil's hand slide down to his elbow, but just as quickly he's bringing his own hand up to grab Phil's sleeve. His grip is fierce.

"See?" Phil says, trying to smile. "Real."

"You're dead," Grant says, firm. He can feel the warmth in the hand on his arm, pain gathering in his throat. "You died." And his voice cracks.

He wants to believe, he is believing.

"I was. I did. For seven minutes." Tiny uncomfortable shrug. "Didn't stick, I'm afraid."

Grant blinks in the face of a tombstone (PHILIP J COULSON) chiseled with words he'd agonized over, how to sum up the man who had saved him long before saving the world (A HERO GOING HOME). He'd run his fingers over sharp-edged epitaph (PSALM 91:4), glad when it cut, when cold stone drew warm blood.

He blinks again, stares into worried hazel eyes, grips flesh and bone, and oh...

"It's been seven months!" Anger, fresh pain erupting through the layers of cooled magma. "What the hell, Dad?!" He rips away, stalks across the room, turns back to glare. "You couldn't be bothered to call, to tell me?! In seven months? I thought– I thought I meant something to you!"

"Grant, you do, I swear." Guilt settles heavy on Phil's heart as he steps forward, reaching. "Fury had me on lockdown, and then you were in the field, and I didn't want to do this until I knew we'd have time."

"I buried you!"

Maria was right, Phil thinks. Grant stalks back toward him.

"And you wanna know what I did after? I put a gun in my mouth, because of you!"

Grant's in his face now, and Phil's stomach drops like he's just been pushed out of a plane.

"You know that place where we used to go fishing? That creek? Yeah, that's where I went. And I put a gun to my head. Because I couldn't– I couldn't– I didn't want to live without–"

There are tears in his eyes now, dampening the fire, and Phil reaches up, lays hand gentle on muscled shoulder.

"But you did," he says softly. "You did live. I'm proud of you, son." He puts special weight on the last word, deliberate. "And now we get another chance. I doubt I can make it up to you, but I want to be here for you. Will you let me at least have that?"

Grant's always been tall, chin up, spit blood, graceful in a cold sort of way. Phil thinks Rose is the only other who has seen that guard truly come down. It's falling now, Grant's head dropping to hide welling emotion, shoulders slumping under Phil's hands, and then it's as if Grant himself is falling, falling and reaching, but he's already caught, and Phil pulls him in, holds him tight as he crumbles.

Grant's grip on him is painfully fierce, but he takes it, he'll take anything for this man he'd watched grow up, from a messed up kid, to a hopeful young agent, to one of SHIELD's best.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm here."

Tall man, bent and bowed into his dad's embrace, Grant hides his face against Coulson's neck and sobs.

Maria slips out, leans back against the door, knuckles a few tears out of her eyes. She still thinks Coulson is making a mistake, selecting someone he's so close to for his new team; he's always avoided working with Grant for that reason. But any man would be changed by facing death, she figures. Not to mention facing things he didn't even remember. A wince at the thought of Grant finding out what had been done. Well, as long as all went according to plan, neither of them ever would.

Grant doesn't cry for long; that's never been his way. He lifts his head, eases back, takes Phil's offered handkerchief.

"You still carry these?" he asks hoarsely, blows his nose.

"What do you think I mop the blood up with?"

The same pointed humor, the way they always joked about close calls, and Grant's lungs feel like they have more room in his chest. He hands the crumpled cloth back, smirks at Coulson's little nose wrinkle. "And that's what saved you."

Coulson chuckles, the air in the room lifts. Grant's still unsteady, still taking it in. But he believes now.

"So how much time have we got?" he asks, sticks his hands in his pockets.

"Plenty." Phil smiles up at him, sun coming out to warm him again at last. "I'm putting together a long-term team, and Fury, well, he owes me plenty. So I get to pick anyone I want."

"Except her." Grant jerks his head toward the door, and he's grinning like an idiot, but he can't help it. On a team with Coulson? For the foreseeable future? Oh, he is so ready.

"Anyone I outrank," Phil corrects himself, eyes laughing back. "You'll be getting a promotion to Level Seven—already have actually since you know about me."

"I'm in."

A raised eyebrow, and Grant tries to settle, temper the excitement in his tone. He's supposed to be cool, after all. "Sure. Count me in. And don't worry," he adds, "I'll make sure not to call you 'dad' in front of the team. Don't want to ruin that cold-hearted reputation."

A full on chuckle from Coulson, and Grant can't help it, he steps back in for one more hug, to feel the solid flesh and bone and beating heart against him.

"Yes, that reputation," Coulson mutters, hugging him back.

When they emerge, all banter and business, Maria lets herself relax. Maybe some things can be normal again.

[carnivalls]

good morning. thinking again of juve and her dog

[atopvisenyashill]

do love how this is an asoiaf blog but i did not put either show in my top 10 this is the world we live in