#I started to like it better before the balancing

[okaysonny]

okkkayy, what if jake got his gf pregnant before marriage what would his mom’s reaction be + other big deal members 😶😶?? (love your fics btww!!!)

ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY 😧 ╏ jake kim

a/n: unserious. and thanks anon!

you always use protection. plus, the pill is 99% effective at preventing this. and yet...

"...i'm pregnant"

★ jake stands there with a stupid look on his face because he's stupid.

★ to be honest, he doesn't want to bring a child into the world when he's leading big deal. jake wants to retire before even thinking about it. he loves you, but this isn't something he planned for.

★ has a serious discussion about the risks, making sure you understand the weight of the situation. still, he knows it's your choice in the end. once it's clear you want to keep the baby, jake respects your decision. he's the type to step up no matter what.

★ watches parenting videos at night while rubbing his temples.

★ tells minseon first 😬 this is the part that scares him the most.

★ his mom: pissed as hell 🤣

★ the second jake tells her, she puts out her cigarette with tight lips. he's already sweating.

"jake kim" "...yes, mother?" "are you telling me you got a girl pregnant before putting a ring on her finger?" "t-the thing is..." "like father, like son"

★ she’d ask all the hard questions: how are you going to raise a baby in this life? do you think this is fair to the child? are you ready for this kind of responsibility?

★ anddd i have a feeling that if you're from a 'normal' family, she'd have more reservations. not that minseon is classist, but y'know...

★ jake explains that you always did it safely, so the pregnancy wasn't from recklessness. he's aware of the risks, but it's your decision to keep the baby. he wants to step up and support you.

★ ...that does get her eyes to soften.

"well...in any case, i know you'll do a better job than your own father"

★ i think in canon right now, jake and his mother have a strained relationship. as far as we know, he only visits minseon when he needs something! 😅 + she resents that he supposedly hates his father...yet became a gangster like him and left her on her own...just like gapryong.

★ but minseon also knows that jake didn't inherit his womanizing side. she knows that he'll be a great father, even if he doesn't think so.

★ she may be tough, but deep down, she’s happy about a grandchild...even subtly offers to mind the baby if jake is too busy and you need a break.

★ she ends up cooking for you. the baby needs to be healthy.

now...he needs to tell big deal...

★ sinu would be so happy for jake. he cares about him like a younger brother, so once the initial shock settles, he’d smile and congratulate him properly.

but then it would hit him.

jake, who never seemed to care about relationships in the first place, is having a kid before him.

"god...yeonhui is gonna have a field day with this. you better start saving man. kids are expensive"

★ would yeonhui scare him as a joke? absolutely.

"sinu, what if i accidentally got pregnant? would you step up like jake?" "h-hold on..."

★ you already know jerry would do the absolute most 😭

★ immediately places a loyalty hand on jake's shoulder.

"boss…you’re going to be a father?" his voice is trembling, like jake just told him he's DYING. "i will lay down my life for this child. it is my duty as number 2" "jerry...i didn't even ask you to- are you crying?"

★ jerry starts researching baby vitamins + recommending parenting books. already thinking about making the child wear a tiny big deal jacket.

★ jason and brad feel like the same characters to me. i'm sorry. i guess jason is portrayed as more blunt and serious?

"jake...don't take this the wrong way, but i don't think you know anything about babies" "you don't think i know that, jason?"

★ the girls knit a baby blanket together :') and make one of those "we're so excited to meet you" videos.

★ jake would not half ass being a dad. he’d try his hardest to balance big deal and fatherhood, even though it won’t be easy. but the baby will be loved. from the parents, the girls and big deal.

bonus!

lineman leans back in his chair, surveying the small pile of cash on the table. "alright, i’m locking in my bet — it’s a boy"

lua scoffs. "nah, you’re wrong. it’s definitely a girl. and she’s gonna have him wrapped around her finger before she can talk"

lineman shakes his head. "a girl? we’d have to protect her from all the freaks in this city. a boy would be easier"

"a boy would be just as much trouble!" she rolls her eyes. "but imagine boss jake with a daughter. he’d be like, the ultimate girl dad"

"tch, we’ll see about that. alright, bets are at 50/50. let's see if anyone else wants to-"

"...guys" an all too familiar voice booms behind them.

lineman and lua turn to look at jerry like children caught with the cookie jar.

"you’re betting on boss jake’s child? his future offspring?" he shakes his head in disappointment. "this is incredibly inappropriate"

lineman and lua exchange a guilty glance.

lua has the courage to speak. "i mean…yeah, but—"

"shame on you two" jerry crosses his arms. "both of them deserve respect, not this gambling on their unborn child’s gender"

lineman suddenly has an idea. "so jerry...you must think it's a girl, right?"

jerry nods. "obviously. can't you see it? imagine her holding jake's pinkie with her tiny little hands"

lua smirks, catching lineman's drift as he discreetly slides a notepad to her. "so hypothetically...you'd place a bet on girl?"

he closes his eyes, lost in thought. "exactly. she’d teach him patience, unconditional love—"

lua nods, cutting him off as she jots notes down. "mhm. yeah. and how much are you putting down?"

jerry strokes his chin. "i'd say...30,000 won, easy-"

he blinks. "wait..."

jerry's jaw drops, the betrayal evident on his face. "you tricked me"

lineman grins, holding his hands up. "of course not. you just wanna see boss jake become a girl dad. that’s passion"

jerry opens his mouth to argue — then closes it. he shamefully places cash on the table.

"this stays between us" he whispers, glancing from side to side.

lua nods in satisfaction. "of course"

jason walks by, looking at the money on the table. "you guys are still on this? fine, put me down for a boy. 75,000 won"

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

jake blinks in disbelief when the truth gets exposed. "...you guys are betting? on my child?"

lineman, lua, and jason whistle, staring at the wall in fascination.

jake looks at jerry, expecting some shame.

jerry looks down, fiddling with his fingers. "...i was tricked"

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[mortallydeepestobservation]

The Case of Us.

Summary: You and Namjoon are an unlikely pair, clashing from the start. He’s a seasoned detective, used to working alone and running on instinct. You, a rookie, fresh off acing your detective exam, ready to prove yourself. At first, you butt heads—your sharp, hardheaded approach grating against his calm, measured demeanor. But there's an undeniable pull between the two of you, an unspoken understanding that begins to form as you both tackle case after case. Through the chaos of the job, you rely on each other more and more. And though you're still figuring out the balance between the stubborn rookie and the seasoned detective, you both know one thing for certain—you're a hell of a team. A/N: Oh Hey everyone... So, I did it again—I got overwhelmed by life and felt the need to write... And you know the drill. (I ended up re-reading Chapter 4 of Holiday Pretense so many times that I couldn’t tell what was repeating and what was just my brain spiraling. And i guess I rage-quit for the day) So instead, I ended up writing something completely different. But this time, it's really random and far "into the story". Also, that pancake dialogue is loosely inspired by a conversation from "Castle"-oldish detective serries i love to this day. Call it a teaser if you will? (I wanna know if anyone would be interested in something like this.) (besides those 5 wips i have already lol. i need professional help 😓🥲) (thank you always @callmenoona25 for proofreading. love you) Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: detective/ thriller. neo noir(?) Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: Guns. Mentions of serial killers and bodies. Crimes. Corpses. police/detective lingo. Detective Yoongi and Jungkook being the best duo. (Also, if you know me. I tend to keep it light- not very gore. But i do have a genuine obsession with true crime/detective stories/criminology. So this might turn off some readers. proceed at your own discretion) tag list: @uniquetravelerone @sexytholland @codeinebelle @annyeongbitch7 @rpwprpwprpwprw @goldietigers294 @amarawayne @oneshallsmile

The dead of night. The scent of rain still clung stubbornly to the damp, heavy air, even hours after the downpour had stopped. Your tv was on, though it was on mute.

Then you heard it.

A sound—a shuffle by the doorway.

Instinct took over. The lights went dark in an instant, your hand moving with practiced ease to the gun at your hip. You gripped it tight, steady, breath held as you listened.

The sounds didn’t stop. The lock turned. The knob twisted.

Before the intruder could take a step inside, you struck—slamming your full weight against him, pinning him to the doorframe, gun pressed firm against his throat.

“Holy shit-!”

A familiar voice. Your grip tightened for just a second before recognition set in.

“Namjoon?”  you didn’t lower the gun.

“Who else would it be?” his tone was maddeningly casual, one hand gripping your wrist, pushing the barrel down to his chest, right above his heart. “Just— don’t shoot the face.”

Your pulse was still hammering in your ears, the rush of the adrenaline refusing to fade. You let out a slow breath, easing the gun off his chest but not fully lowering it.

Namjoon let out a short chuckle- half amused, half exasperation. “Nice to see you too,” he muttered, rolling his shoulder as if shaking off the impact.

“You could’ve called.” you shot back, eyes still sharp, scanning his face in the dim light. he looked tired, damp hair falling messily over his forehead, his clothes wrinkled like he’d been running all night.

“And argue with you over the phone?” he asked, rubbing at his throat where the gun had pressed, “I think it worked out better this way.”

Your gaze flicked to the door, still slightly ajar. “You picked the lock?!”

He shrugged. “Old habits.”

You exhaled through your nose, finally lowering the gun all the way. “What the hell are you doing here, Namjoon?”

His smirk faltered slightly. For the first time, you noticed the tension in his jaw, the way is fingers curled slightly over the damp paper bags he was carrying.

“I-” he took a breath, like the confession hurt, “I’m worried about you.”

You huff, incredulous, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. Clearly.” he gestured vaguely towards the gun in your hand. “Doesn’t change the fact that as your supervisor and partner, I worry about you.” He moved with ease, setting the bags on your kitchen table, leaving a trail of wet footsteps all across your tile floor.

“Namjoon, I’m not a rookie anymore.”

Namjoon let out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning against the counter. “I never said you were.”

You crossed your arms, watching him. “Then stop treating me like one.”

His eyes flicked to yours—sharp, unreadable. “If you want me to stop, then quit making it so damn easy to worry.”

That shut you up for a second.

The weight of his words lingered in the space between you, thick as the humidity still clinging to the air. You glanced at the paper bags on the table, the edges crumpled from his grip. “What’s this?”

“Dinner.” He peeled one open, pulling out a takeout container. “Figured you haven’t eaten.”

You frowned, but your stomach betrayed you with a quiet growl. Namjoon heard it—of course he did—and the smirk that tugged at his lips made you want to shoot him just on principle.

“I was going to eat.”

“Yeah?” He arched a brow, flipping open the container. “What, exactly? Stale instant noodles? Maybe those grotesque granola bars you like to keep in your purse and only eat after they expire?”

You huffed but didn’t deny it.

Namjoon grabbed a pair of chopsticks and held them out. “Sit. Eat.”

“Is this standard procedure with all your trainees?” The sarcasm was thick in your voice, but you still took a seat across from him.

“Just the ones that get themselves targeted by serial killers.”

Your grip on the chopsticks faltered for just a second.

Then you scoffed. “That supposed to be a joke?”

Namjoon didn’t laugh. Didn’t even blink.

Your stomach twisted.

“I’m serious.” His voice had dropped, low and steady, the kind that sent a chill down your spine. “We need to talk.”

You eyed him warily, then set the container down. “About what?”

Namjoon exhaled, rubbing at his temple like he already regretted this conversation. “There was another one.”

Your fingers curled instinctively around the edge of the table. “Where?”

“Downtown. Two blocks from our last case.”

You didn’t need him to elaborate. Your mind was already connecting the dots, pulling up images you didn’t want to see.

Same M.O.? You almost asked, but you already knew the answer.

Namjoon watched you carefully, like he was waiting for the realization to hit.

It did.

“That’s why you’re here.” The words tasted bitter. “You think I’m next.”

His jaw tightened. “And you clearly agree. Why else would you sleep with your gun strapped to your hip?”

“I think you guys are overreacting.”

“Is that why you called the protection detail off? You were supposed to have uniforms watching you right now.”

“The captain is being absurd.” You take a bite of rice “Much like you are right now.” You argue between mouthfuls.

“You’re impossible.” He watched you with that usual superior look of his, that challenging glare that made your blood boil.

“So, what? You decided to break in and deliver takeout because you think I have a target on my back?”

Namjoon’s expression didn’t shift. If anything, his silence spoke louder than any answer he could’ve given.

Your stomach churned—not from the food, but from the implications hanging between you.

He wasn’t here just because he thought you were in danger.

He was here because he knew you were.

“I’m staying the night.”

You snapped. “Oh, like hell you are!”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. He just set down his chopsticks and looked you dead in the eye, his gaze unwavering.

“I’m staying the night,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You shot him a look that could cut glass, but his expression didn’t change. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn't quite place.

“Not a chance, Namjoon,” you snapped, pushing yourself away from the table. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you need to not get killed.”

The words snapped like a gunshot between you, sharp and final.

Neither of you spoke.

Outside, the rain threatened to start again, fat droplets tapping against the glass.

You held his stare, your jaw clenched and shoulders squared, the air between you so tense it felt like either of you might snap.

“Fine.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “But you sleep on the couch.”

Namjoon’s lips twitched into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Deal,” he said, nodding in silent agreement as he slowly backed away from the table. He didn’t argue further—there was nothing left to say once the terms were set. “I also got us a bottle of wine to celebrate you finally taking an order from me.”

“You’re impossible,” you counter, using his earlier line.

You resumed eating, though the rice had lost its appeal. Each bite felt heavy, burdened by the tension between you. Every clink of chopsticks and scrape of ceramic against the table punctuated the silence like a metronome counting down the moments until something else would shatter the uneasy calm.

Namjoon didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting toward the kitchen counter, where the bottle of wine sat like a silent witness to the strange turn of events. He seemed content to let the silence stretch between you, his presence still an unspoken weight in the room.

The tension was thick, almost suffocating, but you didn’t care to break it. Not yet. The thoughts swirling in your head—the things you hadn’t said out loud—kept you rooted in place. The noise of the rain outside, once soothing, now only added to the discomfort that crawled under your skin.

Namjoon poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow and deliberate. When he placed one in front of you, you took it without a word. He watched you for a beat, his eyes searching, trying to gauge what was really going on beneath the surface.

You took a sip, the warmth of the wine doing little to ease the cold unease that wrapped around you. The day, the case, everything was starting to feel too close, too personal. And Namjoon’s silent presence wasn’t helping, no matter how much it was meant to comfort.

After a few minutes, Namjoon cleared his throat softly, watching you look down into your glass. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I set up my gear in the living room?” he asked, voice low. “Just in case we need to move fast.”

You frowned, glancing toward the door where the muted TV light played over the wall. “It’s your turn to be my backup tonight,” you muttered, half teasing, half warning.

He raised an eyebrow. “You know I never leave your side—even if I’m on the couch,” he replied, a trace of amusement in his tone that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You shot him a sidelong look, then set your glass down. “Get your things, Namjoon. And for the record, I’d prefer not to have a detective rummaging through my living room,” you added, attempting to lighten your tone despite the unease creeping in.

He smirked. “I’ll try to behave,” he said with a wink that belied the seriousness behind his words.

Moments later, the quiet hum of preparation filled the apartment. Namjoon unpacked his duffel bag with the methodical precision of someone who’d been in high-stakes situations far too many times. You found yourself glancing repeatedly at the window, where the rain began to fall again in earnest, drumming against the glass like a ragged heartbeat.

“I’ll fetch you some blankets.”

“A few pillows too.”

You chuckle, “Do you want a facemask too?”

Namjoon looked up from his bag, a playful glint in his eyes despite the tension hanging in the air. “Only if it comes with a side of earplugs,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the table and moving toward the closet “Yeah, baby boy needs his beauty sleep.”

You tossed the blanket and pillows onto the couch, but as you straightened up, the sound of the rain outside seemed to deepen, becoming almost repetitive in its heaviness. For a moment, neither of you spoke—just the low hum of the apartment and the soft drum of water against glass.

Namjoon broke the silence with a more serious note. “Try and get some rest. You’ve had a long week.”

You paused, turning to face him, your gaze met his, and for a moment, the usual banter was gone, replaced by something more sincere—something that tugged at the edges of your own quiet worry. You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come right away, and you debated if you even wanted to let them out.

“Thank you.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, the seriousness in his face fading into something just slightly softer.

He nodded slowly, as if accepting your gratitude, though his lips didn’t curve into a smile. There was something grounding about the way he held your gaze, like he understood more than you were saying.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he murmured, his voice low, but the words carried weight. “It’s what we do.”

You exhaled quietly, finally giving in to the tension in your shoulders. “Yeah, well... it’s still nice to hear.” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding, the soft edge to your tone. “Thank you for being here. And for dinner.”

“It’s no problem,” he said quietly, his voice steady but gentle. “You know I’ve got your back.”

“Yeah.” You still sigh despite yourself, pushing towards the bedroom “Goodnight Joon.”

Namjoon watched you as you moved toward the bedroom, his eyes soft, but there was a hint of something unreadable in them. He remained silent for a moment, just watching you before speaking in that calm, reassuring tone of his.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, though his voice lingered in the space between you, grounding you in the moment.

You didn’t turn back, but his presence, quiet and constant, felt like a weight lifted, even just for tonight. The quiet murmur of the rain outside seemed softer, less oppressive as you closed the door behind you.

~~~

The smell of pancakes felt foreign in your apartment. The rich, buttery scent filled the air, its warmth cutting through the cool, damp atmosphere of the morning. You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the grogginess, your mind still hazy from sleep. It took a few seconds for you to process what was happening.

Namjoon.

You could hear the faint sound of him humming, the clink of utensils, the quiet sizzle of batter on the griddle. The peacefulness of it felt almost surreal after the tension of the night before.

Rubbing your eyes, you stepped out of the bedroom, the coolness of the floor beneath your feet grounding you back in reality. You walked toward the kitchen, where Namjoon was flipping pancakes like he’d done this a hundred times in your kitchen—like he belonged there.

He glanced up when you appeared, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. The weight of last night still hung in the air between you.

“Morning,” he greeted softly, the scent of coffee following the pancakes.

You blinked at the scene, still a little dazed. “Did you... make this?” You gestured toward the stack of golden pancakes, the syrup bottle, and the neatly placed plates.

“I wanted to make eggs. But they expired last year, and your bacon had something growing on it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. We need to go to the precinct.”

“Will you relax? Just sit down and eat.”

You shot him a look, but he was already plating another pancake, as if he were completely unfazed by the chaos that had defined your life for the last few days.

“I’m serious, Namjoon. We don’t have time for breakfast. The precinct is waiting, and you’ve got a duty.” You gestured vaguely to the mess of plates and syrup bottles, your voice tightening slightly despite the absurdity of the moment.

He turned to you with an almost exasperated expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You need food. We both do. The precinct will be there when we're ready. In the meantime, we sit. We eat. You get a few minutes to breathe.”

You huffed in frustration but couldn't deny the logic behind his words. He was right, you were barely functioning on caffeine and adrenaline, and you needed a break—even if just for a few minutes.

“Fine,” you muttered, sitting down at the table. “But as soon as we're done, we're out the door. No more distractions.”

Namjoon gave you a nod, his tone still light. “Oh, I forgot the newspaper.” He turned off the stove and did his little half-jog to the door.

But as soon as he twisted the doorknob, the door slammed open against the weight of the body propped against it. A sickening thud reverberating through the apartment. Your heart skipped a beat as the sight of the corpse registered in an instant—its pale, lifeless face staring up at you, eyes vacant and unseeing. The air in the room felt like it had thickened, the weight of the situation crashing down on you.

Namjoon froze for a moment, his hand still on the doorknob. Then, without a word, he stepped back, his body moving with precision as he grabbed his cell and tossed it to you.

“Call the precinct.” He instructed, fetching his gun in an instant “And stay back.”

Your fingers trembled as you caught the phone, the shock still running through your veins. You barely registered the coldness of the device against your palm, too focused on the scene in front of you. The body. The blood that had pooled around it, seeping into the carpet like it was part of the apartment itself.

You fumbled with the phone, dialling the precinct, your breath hitching in your throat. The line rang once, twice, before someone picked up, their voice professional, unaware of the horror unfolding in your living room.

“112, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Detective Hwang, badge number 1209. There’s a body on my front door.”

The voice on the other end of the line shifted instantly, now alert. “Detective Hwang, stay on the line. Is the scene secure? Do you need assistance?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice tight as you tried to steady your breathing. “We have a body. It's… propped against the door. Get someone here immediately.”

“Understood, Detective. Stay where you are. Officers are on their way. Do not engage with the scene further.”

You glanced over at Namjoon, who was crouched by the body now, his gun trained at the door as he assessed the situation. He didn't flinch or pause, moving with the practiced calm that had always been his trademark.

It took less than 8 minutes for your apartment to be crawling with uniforms, CSU, and of course, Detective Yoongi and Jungkook.

“So,” Jungkook was talking to Namjoon, merely a few steps away from where you sat at the kitchen table across from Yoongi. “Wine glasses.”

“Yeah, Namjoon brought dinner and wine.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Namjoon with a smirk. “Dinner and wine, huh? Cozy night in?”

Namjoon shot him a deadpan look. “It was supposed to be breakfast, too, until we were rudely interrupted by a corpse.”

Jungkook let out a low whistle, shaking his head “Pancakes?”

You glanced over at him, confused.

“So, nothing else happened?” Jungkook continued undeterred.

“Jungkook what are you on about?”

“Well, you know what they say about pancakes.” Yoongi replied, though his eyes were still glued to his notepad.

You narrowed your eyes, glancing between Yoongi and Jungkook. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do they say about pancakes?”

Jungkook grinned like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “Pancakes are the best way to say ‘Hey, thanks for that amazing sex last night.’”

You choked on absolutely nothing, spluttering as Namjoon let out the world’s longest sigh beside you.

“Oh my God,” Namjoon muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we not do this right now?”

Yoongi finally glanced up from his notepad, entirely unbothered. “It’s a well-documented theory.”

Jungkook nodded, very seriously. “Classic post-hookup breakfast. Means it was so good that one of you felt compelled to whip up something warm and sweet the next morning.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “It was just breakfast, Jungkook.”

“Was it?” Jungkook teased, crossing his arms. “Because the way I see it, there are two wine glasses on the counter, Namjoon sleeping over, and pancakes on the table.”

Namjoon made a noise somewhere between a groan and a death rattle. “I hate all of you.”

You threw up your hands. “For the last time, nothing happened!”

Yoongi huffed, and Jungkook shook his head as he jotted down on his notepad “witness refuses to cooperate.”

You gawked at him. “Are you seriously writing that down?”

Jungkook nodded, scribbling dramatically. “Refuses to acknowledge the overwhelming evidence of post-coital carbohydrates-”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

Namjoon, looking moments away from actual homicide, turned to Yoongi. “Please arrest him for obstruction.”

Yoongi barely held back a smirk. “Tempting.”

[olderwomenenthusiast]

pulling rank (emily prentiss)

PAIRING: emily prentiss & fem reader DESCRIPTION: emily pulls rank on you during and arguement at home CAUTION: arguing, established relationship, emily not trusting you WORD COUNT: 1.3k (?) AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read as usual x REQUEST: I don’t know if you take requests but if you do… can you please write something that’s fem reader x Emily Prentiss where Emily is unit chief and pulls rank on the reader while they are at home arguing. Very angsty Ik

The door clicks shut behind you with an unsettling finality. You thought you’d come home to the usual: Emily curled up on the couch, a quiet night in after a long case. But instead, the apartment is unnervingly still.

Emily’s silhouette is bathed in the glow of a single lamp. She’s standing by the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly, her posture rigid as though she’s been waiting for this moment all night.

"You're late," she says, her voice quiet but cutting through the air like a blade.

You freeze, feeling the weight of her words like a punch to the chest. "I - Emily, I’m sorry," you begin, your heart hammering in your chest. "The case ran late. We had to re-interview the suspect, and then there was paperwork..."

"Right," she interrupts, voice flat, narrowing her eyes at you. "The paperwork." She lets out a soft, bitter laugh. "Always paperwork. The same excuse, every damn time."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "I’m not making excuses, Emily. This is how the job works."

She knows that.

"Who were you with?" she asks suddenly, her voice sharp. "Who were you really with for six hours?"

You blink, thrown off balance by the sudden change in tone. "What are you talking about?"

"Stop lying to me," she snaps, her gaze not leaving yours, as if searching for any crack in your words. "I know how this goes. I’ve seen it before. Late nights, working close with people, bonding over cases..." Her voice trails off, dripping with implication.

Your blood runs cold as the suspicion in her eyes hits home. "Emily," you start, feeling the sting of her words. "You think I was --"

"You’re damn right I do," she cuts in, her eyes flashing with something like hurt and fury combined. "I don’t know where you were, but I don’t believe you anymore. I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth when you tell me you’re working."

"How could you even say that?" You take a step forward, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "You know me better than that! I’m not sleeping around with someone on the team - I'm not like that!"

"You’re right," she spits out, her voice trembling with emotion. "You’re not like that. You just disappear. You lie by omission. You go missing for hours, and then I’m left here waiting - wondering if you’re coming back to me at all, or if you’ve already found someone else."

Her words hit like a physical blow. You feel your chest tighten with a mix of anger and pain. "You think I’d do that to you?" you ask, voice cracking. "After everything we’ve been through, you think I’d just throw it all away?"

"You already are," Emily says, her words low and venomous. "You’re pulling away, and I don’t know how much longer I can just sit here, pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. You won’t tell me where you were, and then you won’t even pick up your phone, and I can’t trust you anymore."

Her eyes are full of frustration, fear, and something else—something deeper, darker. She’s scared. You see it in the way her shoulders are tense, in the way her lip quivers ever so slightly. But the anger and pain are blinding her, and she won’t let go of her grip on the situation.

"How is this fair?" you shout, your voice rising now, the floodgates opening as the hurt and frustration spill out. "You can’t just accuse me of things like this, Emily! I’m doing my job. I’m not out with someone else, I’m not cheating. I’m working! You can’t just make accusations like this because you’re afraid of losing me!"

"Yes, I can," she snaps back, her voice hardening as she steps toward you. "Because I am losing you. Every time you go off and stay out late, every time I hear the silence on the other end of the phone, I wonder if you're slipping away from me."

You take a step back, your own frustration bubbling over. "I’m here, aren’t I? I’m home now. I’m not with anyone else, I’m with you. But instead of just trusting me, you’re questioning me, accusing me of something I would never do."

"Do you know what it’s like?" she spits, her voice shaking with emotion, all control slipping away. "Do you have any idea what it’s like, sitting here, not knowing where you are, wondering if this is the night you don’t come back to me? I’m not built for this, and I’m not built to watch you slip away."

Her words are a slap in the face. The pain in them is almost too much to bear. You shake your head, your heart pounding. "You think I’m slipping away from you?" you ask, your voice a little broken. "You think I want this? I don’t want to lose you, Emily. You’re the last thing I want to lose. But if you keep treating me like this, if you keep pulling rank like I’m some damn recruit, I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this!"

Emily falters for a moment, her breath catching. "What the hell does that mean?" Her voice cracks, and for a brief moment, her walls come down, her vulnerability shining through. "What do you mean, ‘if you keep treating me like this?’ What do you think I’m doing to you? I’m trying to keep you, trying to protect you from getting hurt --"

"No, you’re trying to control me," you shoot back, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. "You can’t just use your position to make all my choices for me, Emily! I’m not your subordinate, I’m your partner. I don’t answer to you like this. I’m not a damn agent you can just assign hours to."

Her face pales, the sting of your words clearly hitting home. "I’m not trying to control you," she says quietly, the hurt in her voice unmistakable. "But you’re not listening. I’m scared, okay? I’m terrified. And when you pull away, when you don’t call, when you don’t come home, what the hell am I supposed to think? What do you expect me to do?"

You stare at her, the air between you thick with the tension of everything unsaid, everything raw. You feel your own heart breaking, but you can’t help but push back. "I need you to trust me," you whisper, voice trembling, a small plea that feels like it might break you. "I need you to believe me, Emily."

Her eyes soften just for a moment, but the pain is still there, lingering. "I don’t know how to trust you anymore," she admits, her voice barely a whisper. "I don’t know how to make the fear go away."

For a long moment, you both stand there, the silence between you thick and suffocating. You want to reach out, to pull her close, but the distance feels like an ocean between you. Emily’s face is filled with a mix of regret, love, and fear, and you’re not sure if either of you can take another step without breaking.

"Please, Emily," you whisper, your voice raw. "I’m here. I’m yours. I’ll prove it to you, but you have to let me."

She shakes her head, wiping away the tears that have begun to fall. "I don’t know if I can do this anymore," she whispers back, barely audible.

And as she turns away, you’re left standing there, unsure if your words will be enough to pull her back or if you’ve already lost her.

[cherryxbooo]

Love is never easy

Summary: Meeting a certain footballer wasn’t on your bingo card, but falling in love with him was even more unimaginable.

Reader x Pablo Gavi

Genre: fluff/angst

They say love should be simple.

That when you find the right person, it’s effortless, like a perfect pass that lands gently at your feet, as if it was always meant for you.

A connection so natural, so fluid, that you don’t even have to think.

But what happens when love feels like a game you’re always one step behind in?

When you’re constantly chasing, reaching, hoping, only to feel the ball slip just beyond your grasp?

I met Pablo Gavi in the most unexpected way, by quite literally crashing into him outside the stadium on a stormy evening.

The rain had been relentless, the kind that soaks through your clothes in seconds and turns the world into a blur of grey.

I hadn’t even been at Camp Nou for football.

My best friend’s brother worked security there, and I had come to meet her, completely unaware that fate had other plans.

One moment, I was battling my umbrella against the wind, the next, I was colliding into someone with enough force to make me stumble back.

My breath hitched as I looked up, my heart pounding, not just from the impact, but from the realization of who I had just crashed into.

Pablo Gavi.

His brow furrowed as he rubbed his arm where I had hit him, a soft curse slipping from his lips.

"Joder…" His voice was slightly irritated, rough around the edges, but the second his eyes met mine, something in them shifted.

His frustration faded, replaced by something else, curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now.

I could barely find my words. "Y-yeah, I think so. Sorry about that."

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head.

"You put up more of a fight than most defenders I face."

I didn’t expect him to remember me after that.

But he did.

The next time I visited my friend, I felt a pair of eyes on me before I even saw him.

And when I finally turned, there he was, leaning casually against a railing, arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Still fighting with the wind?" he teased.

That time, I laughed.

The time after that, we talked.

And before I even realized what was happening, he had become a part of my life.

It felt easy. Too easy.

Like a dream you don’t dare wake up from.

But love, love is never easy.

They say the best love stories begin with friendship.

That the strongest bonds are the ones built slowly, quietly, in the spaces between laughter and late-night conversations.

That was us.

For months, Gavi and I existed in a space that wasn’t quite friendship but wasn’t something more either.

A delicate balance of playful teasing and unspoken feelings, of being each other’s first call at the end of a long day, yet pretending we didn’t notice the way our voices softened when we spoke to one another.

It started with late-night phone calls.

"Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?" I’d ask when my phone buzzed at nearly 2 a.m., his name lighting up my screen.

"Can’t sleep," he’d mumble, voice groggy but warm, like he had already been dozing off.

"Tell me something."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

So I would. I’d tell him about my day, about a funny thing my professor said, about how my best friend had tried (and failed) to set me up with someone.

I’d hear him scoff at that, muttering something under his breath that I could never quite catch.

Sometimes, it was the other way around.

"Tough game?" I’d ask when he called me after a match, his voice quieter than usual.

"Yeah," he’d sigh. "I just... I don’t know. I should’ve done better."

I’d listen as he talked, let him get it all out, the frustration, the pressure, the weight of expectations that never seemed to ease.

And when he was finished, when there was nothing left but silence, I’d whisper, "You’re too hard on yourself, you know that?"

His response was always the same, a quiet exhale, a soft "Only you say that."

I never knew what to do with the way my heart reacted to those words.

Then there were the little things.

The way he always seemed to know when I was having a bad day, sending me a simple "You okay?" that somehow made everything feel lighter.

The way he showed up at my university when he had a rare afternoon off, waiting for me outside my lecture hall with a coffee in hand.

"You didn’t have to do this," I’d tell him, but he’d just shrug, like it was nothing.

"You always forget to eat when you’re stressed," he’d say, handing me a sandwich like he had memorized my habits better than I had.

We never talked about whatever this was.

Never acknowledged the way his hand always seemed to find the small of my back when we walked through a crowd.

Or how we lingered just a little too long whenever we said goodbye.

It was easier this way.

Easier to pretend we were just friends.

Even when everything we did felt like something more.

Even when I already knew, I was falling.

And then, without realizing it, I had already fallen.

I fell for the way he looked at me, like I was something rare, something worth holding onto.

I fell for the way his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on my palm whenever we sat in silence, as if memorizing the shape of me.

I fell for the way he always pulled me closer in a crowded room, his grip firm, protective, like he was afraid I’d slip away.

I fell, hard and fast, like I never had before.

But love, love is never just about falling.

It’s about what happens after.

And somewhere along the way, something changed.

It didn’t happen overnight.

There was no sudden, dramatic shift.

It was slow, subtle, the kind of change you don’t notice at first, like the days getting shorter, the cold creeping in before you even realize summer is gone.

It started with the little things.

The way his replies to my texts, once almost instant, started coming slower.

At first, I brushed it off he was busy, caught up in training, exhausted from travel.

But then, the messages themselves became shorter. A simple "Yeah." or "We’ll see." replacing the playful, teasing paragraphs he used to send me.

The voice notes that once made me smile, his laughter, the way he always seemed to have a story to tell, became fewer and fewer, until one day, they just stopped.

The late-night calls faded too.

"Are you awake?" I would text, staring at my phone, waiting for those three little dots to appear.

Sometimes they did. Sometimes they didn’t.

When they did, it was always the same answer.

"Tired. Talk tomorrow?"

But tomorrow came, and we didn’t talk.

At first, I told myself it was fine.

I told myself I was overthinking it. That he was just busier than usual, that he was under pressure.

I made excuses for him, ones he never even had to say out loud.

"He’s training harder." "He needs space." "Nothing’s wrong."

But deep down, I knew.

I knew when he started canceling plans.

It wasn’t dramatic.

No last-minute apologies, no elaborate excuses. Just a quiet shift.

A "Can we reschedule?" here, a "Next time, yeah?" there.

Plans that were once effortless, ones he used to fight for, rearrange his schedule for, suddenly became too difficult to make.

I knew when he stopped showing up unannounced at my university.

When I stopped catching him watching me from across the room.

When his touch, once so natural, so certain, became hesitant, like he was holding himself back.

The first time I felt it, really felt it, was at a party.

It was crowded, loud, the kind of scene he usually hated but endured because I was there.

I saw him across the room, talking to someone, a teammate, a friend, I wasn’t sure.

He was laughing, the kind of carefree laugh I hadn’t heard from him in weeks. And then, for just a second, his eyes met mine.

A beat of silence.

And then, he looked away.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the sinking feeling in my chest. Maybe he hadn’t seen me.

Maybe I was imagining things.

But later that night, when I reached for his hand the way I always did, he didn’t pull me closer.

He let go.

And that was when I knew.

The boy who once fought for every second with me was now letting moments slip away.

The boy who once looked at me like I was his safe place now seemed distant, distracted, like he was carrying something he couldn’t share.

And then, one night, everything came crashing down.

It wasn’t one thing, it was everything.

A missed call that turned into three. A message left on read. An excuse that felt too rehearsed, too empty.

And finally, the truth, the thing I had been too afraid to admit to myself.

I wasn’t losing him.

I had already lost him.

Meanwhile,

The ball bounced off his foot awkwardly, rolling too far ahead.

Gavi cursed under his breath, sprinting to recover it, but his timing was off again.

The pass he attempted was sloppy, the kind of mistake he never made, and when he looked up, he caught the coach watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Focus, Gavi!" the coach called out.

"Sí, míster," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Something was off with him today, had been for days, if he was being honest.

He felt it in the way his movements were just a fraction too slow, in the way his mind wasn’t fully locked into the game.

Football was supposed to be his escape, the one thing that cleared his head. But lately, it wasn’t working.

And the reason?

Y/n.

He had been trying not to think about her.

Trying to push away the ache that settled in his chest whenever he saw her name on his phone screen and didn’t answer.

Whenever he caught himself reaching for his phone, only to stop himself. Avoidance was supposed to make this easier.

It wasn’t.

He didn’t notice Fermin watching him until his friend nudged him, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Alright, qué pasa contigo?" Fermin asked, keeping his voice low as they walked off the pitch for a water break.

"Nothing," Gavi answered too quickly, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Fermin snorted. "Yeah, sure. That’s why you’ve been playing like absolute shit today?"

"Fuck off," Gavi muttered, but there was no real bite behind his words.

Fermin wasn’t having it. "Seriously, bro. What’s going on? You’re not yourself."

For a second, Gavi considered brushing him off again.

But something about the way Fermin was looking at him, genuinely concerned, made him sigh in defeat.

"It’s about Y/n."

Fermin’s eyebrows raised slightly in recognition.

"The girl you’ve gotten close with?"

Gavi nodded, running a hand over his face.

"I thought you two were good. What happened?"

Gavi let out a breath, shaking his head. "Nothing happened… that’s the problem."

Fermin frowned. "Okay, you lost me."

Gavi hesitated before finally admitting, "I fell for her." The words felt heavy, like they had been weighing on his chest for too long.

"And I don’t know what to do with that."

Fermin stared at him for a beat before laughing under his breath.

"Pablo, you’re acting like that’s the worst thing in the world."

"You don’t get it." Gavi exhaled sharply.

"I never had someone like her before. She’s… different. She actually knows me, not just the football part of me, but me. And if I tell her how I feel and it ruins everything, I lose that. I lose her."

Fermin tilted his head, considering his words.

"So what? You decided the best solution was to avoid her?"

Gavi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I thought maybe if I put some distance between us, it would go away."

Fermin blinked at him. "Go away?"

"Yeah—"

"Are you dumb?" Fermin cut him off, looking genuinely baffled.

"Like, actually, physically dumb?"

Gavi scowled. "Qué?"

"You’re trying to avoid losing her, but you are losing her. Right now. Because you’re pushing her away." Fermin threw his hands up.

"Bro, you’re literally doing the one thing you don’t want to happen."

Gavi clenched his jaw, looking away.

He knew Fermin was right, but hearing it out loud made his stomach twist.

"Just talk to her," Fermin said, his tone softer now.

"Be honest. If she doesn’t feel the same, then yeah, it’ll suck, but at least you’ll know. At least you won’t lose her like this."

Gavi sighed, staring down at the grass beneath his feet.

"And if she does feel the same?" he asked quietly.

Fermin smirked, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Then you stop being a dumbass and finally do something about it."

Gavi rolled his eyes, shoving his hand off. "You’re annoying, you know that?"

"And you’re dramatic," Fermin shot back.

"Seriously, this is some novela-level shit."

Gavi groaned, tossing his water bottle at him. "Shut up, tío."

Fermin just laughed, dodging it easily.

"Nah, but for real, you owe me when you and Y/n get together. I'm talking VIP tickets, front row seats."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Gavi grumbled, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips now.

For the first time in weeks, he felt like he knew what he had to do.

He had to stop running.

And he had to tell you.

Pablo had called.

Twice.

And then he had texted. "Can we talk?"

But I didn’t answer.

I told myself it was because I was still mad.

That I wasn’t ready to hear whatever excuse he had for pushing me away like I meant nothing.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I was scared.

Scared that if I let him back in, he’d hurt me again.

That I’d start hoping, start falling again, only to end up in the same place, alone, confused, wondering where it all went wrong.

"You’re overthinking this."

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts.

My best friend sat across from me, legs tucked under her as she scrolled through her phone like she hadn’t just said something completely outrageous.

"I am not overthinking," I defended, arms crossed.

She gave me a pointed look. "Oh really? So what do you call ignoring him for days instead of hearing him out?"

"I call it self-respect."

"Mhm, sure," she said, unimpressed.

"Or maybe… just maybe, you’re terrified of whatever he has to say because it might actually make sense."

I groaned, flopping back against the couch. "Why are you on his side?"

"I’m not on his side," she argued.

"I’m on the side of common sense, which neither of you seem to have. Look, men are dumb, babe. They don’t know how to act. They get feelings and then short-circuit like malfunctioning robots."

That made me laugh.

"So what, you think he just malfunctioned?" I teased.

"Obviously," she said dramatically.

"Poor guy probably thought ignoring you would fix his feelings. Meanwhile, here you are, going through all five stages of grief in your pajamas."

I smacked her arm, but I was laughing now, the weight in my chest feeling just a little lighter.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"No, you don’t," she sang, standing up and stretching.

"Alright, I gotta go. Just… think about calling him, okay? At least to yell at him properly. You deserve that much."

I rolled my eyes but nodded.

"That’s my girl," she said before grabbing her bag and heading out.

The apartment was quiet now. Too quiet.

I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, thumb hovering over Pablo’s contact.

Should I call him?

My best friend’s words played in my head. "You deserve that much."

She wasn’t wrong. I did deserve an explanation.

But was I ready to hear it?

To let him back in when I wasn’t even sure I had fully healed from the way he had pushed me out?

I sighed, rubbing my temples. Maybe I’d sleep on it.

Maybe tomorrow—

Knock, knock.

I frowned.

Was my best friend back? Did she forget something?

I stood up, walking over to the door. "Did you leave your—"

My breath caught in my throat.

It wasn’t her.

It was him.

Pablo stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his hair slightly messy like he had run his fingers through it too many times.

His eyes met mine, and for a second, neither of us spoke.

"Can we talk?" he asked, voice quiet.

I should’ve slammed the door in his face.

Or at least made him wait longer, the way he had made me wait for an explanation.

But I didn’t.

I stepped aside, letting him in.

Pablo sat down on the couch, his knee bouncing slightly like he wasn’t sure how to start.

"I know you’re mad at me," he finally said.

I crossed my arms. "No shit."

He sighed. "I deserve that."

"Yeah, you do."

Silence.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"I messed up, Y/N. I know that. And I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t care, because I do. More than I should, probably."

My heart clenched, but I kept my expression neutral.

"Then why did you push me away?"

Pablo hesitated, like he was still debating whether to be fully honest.

Then, he exhaled sharply. "Because I fell for you."

I blinked. "What?"

"I fell for you," he repeated, looking at me now.

"And I freaked out. I thought if I ignored it, if I put space between us, maybe I wouldn’t ruin everything."

I stared at him, waiting for the logic to kick in.

It didn’t.

"So let me get this straight." I leaned forward.

"You caught feelings… and your solution was to avoid me?"

"Yes?"

"Pablo, that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

"Okay, Fermin already told me that, no need to gang up on me," he muttered, rubbing his temples.

"No, because—" I let out a frustrated groan.

"Do you even realize how badly that hurt? You were my best friend, Pablo. And then you just… disappeared."

His eyes softened, guilt flashing across his face.

"I know. And I hate that I hurt you. But, Y/n, I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve never had someone like you before. Someone who actually sees me. Not just the footballer, but me."

My heart skipped a beat.

"And I didn’t want to lose that," he continued, voice quieter now.

"I thought if I told you how I felt, I’d ruin what we had. But then, avoiding you just made me lose you anyway."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Yeah, it did."

Silence again.

Then, softer this time, he asked, "Can I fix it?"

I exhaled slowly. "You really are an idiot, you know that?"

He cracked a small smile. "Yeah, I’m getting that a lot lately."

I didn’t even realize I was smiling too.

The tension in the room slowly shifted, the weight in my chest lifting ever so slightly.

"So what now?" I asked.

Pablo hesitated before saying, "I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Y/n. I want more. But if you don’t feel the same, I swear I’ll—"

I cut him off by grabbing his hand.

"You’re an idiot," I repeated. "But you’re my idiot."

His breath hitched. "So…?"

"So, you better not run away again."

His grin was instant, and before I could say anything else, he pulled me into a tight hug, burying his face in my shoulder.

"I won’t," he promised. "Not again."

I let myself melt into his embrace, my heart finally at peace.

We broke the hug, but his gaze never left mine.

Before I knew it, I felt his hand on my cheek, gently pulling me in for a passionate kiss.

Damn. It really was worth the wait.

Eventually, we both pull away to catch our breaths.

"So, does this mean we’re together now?" Pablo asked, grinning.

"I don’t know," I teased. "Are you gonna ignore me and be stupid again?"

"No!"

"Then I guess so."

He smirked. "You could’ve just said you wanted to be my girlfriend, princesa."

"And give you the satisfaction? Never."

He groaned, flopping onto the couch dramatically.

"Great. I’m dating a menace."

I threw a pillow at him. "And I’m dating an idiot. Perfect match."

He caught the pillow, tossing it aside before grabbing my hand again, this time intertwining our fingers.

"Yeah," he murmured, looking at me with that familiar, warm gaze.

"Perfect match."

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

The end

[atimeofyourlife]

Catch me when I fall

@bucktommyfluffebruary day 3: spiderman kiss | rated: g | wc: 665 | ao3 Tommy gets Buck down to safety after a malfunction during a ropes rescue. Buck insists on a spiderman kiss first.

It should have been easy. A standard ropes rescue that Buck must have done a thousand times in his eight years with the fire department, rescue the person from the car that had gone over the cliff, get them down to the road below, then make sure that the car was moved to safety so no one would get hurt. He and Hen had gone down on the ropes, with Eddie on the winch. The 217 ladder truck and ambulance waiting in place at the bottom. Everyone else, along with a number of other units, were dealing with the multi vehicle collision that had caused the car to go over in the first place.

Buck and Hen had made quick work of securing the car, before assessing and getting the driver out. Hen took the patient down to the ambulance while Buck made sure all the strapping was in place on the car so it could be towed back up. Then it was his turn.

"Okay, Buck. Bringing you up now." Eddie called.

Buck waited for the winch to start pulling him up, but… Nothing.

"What's going on?" Buck said into his radio, trying not to worry about being suspended halfway down the cliff face.

"Something seems to have caught. I'll try lowering you down." Eddie replied.

Buck dropped just a few inches, then the movement stopped, again.

"I think the winch is broken. I need to get Cap, but we'll figure it out."

"Maybe send someone up the ladder." Buck mumbled, doing his best to look down without disturbing his position too much. It was too far for him to drop unassisted, and the airbag would need to be too far out for him to land on, because of the uneven ground at the bottom of the cliff. So using the ladder looked like the only option.

After what felt like hours, but was probably barely a minute, he could see the ladder truck being repositioned below.

"Buck, the 217 are sending someone up the ladder to get you down. Just hang in there a little longer." Bobby's voice came over the radio.

"Don't have much other choice here, Cap." Buck replied, and as he went to move his hand back to the rope, his grip slipped a little, sending him a little off balance. The change in the center of gravity caused him to flip over, so he had his head down. He blindly grabbed for the rope, trying to keep himself from swinging into the cliff face. He felt the scrape of it against his back, but thankfully was able to avoid hitting his head.

"Evan." He heard a familiar voice shout from below, he opened his eyes to see Tommy making his way up the ladder. Buck should have known it would be Tommy coming up, considering he already knew the other man was grounded after maxing out his flight hours for the month.

"I've got you." Tommy was reaching for Buck as soon as he was close enough.

"Wait." Buck protested before Tommy could unclip his harness. "Spiderman kiss?"

Tommy rolled his eyes affectionately, but complied with Buck's request. He gently cupped the back of Buck's head and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Come on, I need to get you down before you do yourself some damage."

Buck allowed Tommy to support his back and shoulders while he reached to unclip his harness from the rope. There was a moment where he felt like he could fall as his weight was transferred, but Tommy had him safe in his arms, carefully lowering him onto the ladder.

"How are you feeling?" Tommy asked as he clipped Buck's harness to the ladder.

"Dizzy." Buck replied honestly, closing his eyes again where the world felt like it was moving. "A little nauseous too."

"Once we're on the ground you can sit for a while until you feel better."

"Stay with me?" Buck mumbled as Tommy helped him down the ladder.

"Always."

[emilylawsons]

HI I’M BACK AND I FINISHED SEASON 3 AND I HAVE THOUGHTS™️

Newsreader spoilers under the cut

Okay first: THE NEWSREADER IS ONE OF THE GREATEST TREASURES TO GRACE TELEVISION AND IT DELIVERED ON EVERYTHING

ANYWAY…

The open ending as far as Helen and Dale goes—my shipper heart is a little sad we didn’t get a more explicitly romantic ending for them BUT these two have so much healing to do, and it starts with being exactly where they are. Finding peace and happiness as individuals before they give themselves to any relationship. And I think, no matter what any fan was hoping for, they can take this ending and decide how it goes for them. (Also the loving way Helen spoke to him and looked at him while she was talking to him off air. 🥹) They’re both exactly where they need to be and in their element, and that’s what the audience has been rooting for since day one.

THE PARALLELS AND CONNECTIONS TO THE FIRST EPISODE IN THE LAST ONE. Dale singing Kyrie in the car. Helen taking Dale home and talking care of him and “coming up with a plan.” Fucking brilliant.

Helen’s journey this whole season—getting a diagnosis and coming to grips with it. Being resistant at first but coming around and COMMITTING to getting better even when it’s hard and she hates it—frickin’ facing the place where she was locked up and endured additional trauma. She truly came into her own, and I’m just continuously blown away by Anna Torv and how, in every single project she does, she puts so much care and thoughtfulness into how she portrays her characters and the difficult situations they face. And she’s just a fucking incredible actress. THE SCENE IN 3.03 AFTER SHE GOT HER DIAGNOSIS AND CALLED DALE BROKE ME. I don’t think anyone else could have portrayed Helen. I just don’t. And Helen’s arc was all the more satisfying because the writers/creators decided to trust their talent and make her just as much a part of the creative process.

And Dale…oh my boy Dale. Sam frickin’ Reid the actor you are. Dale’s character arc has to be one of the most intense and challenging I’ve ever seen on TV, and Sam probably had the hardest job. Dale’s breakdown? OH MY GOD. We always knew Dale needed to break. He would have to be driven to the brink to be human again. And, just like with Anna as Helen, there was no one more qualified to bring Dale Jennings to life. Holy shit. Incredible, meaty, deep storytelling happens when you have creatives with a vision and actors they’re on the same page with. Sam got it from day one, and he saw it through to the end.

But Helen and Dale, stars of the show they are, are not the only incredible arcs we got to see. THE SATISFACTION OF WATCHING LINDSAY CUNNINGHAM GET KICKED OUT ON HIS ASS AND DENNIS SITTING IN HIS SEAT. The stuff of legends. And not just Dennis getting his moment (which we absolutely saw coming after he clocked Lindsay last season), but JEAN FUCKING PASCOE yelling at him from across the newsroom. I clapped. I cheered. And you know, I even cheered a bit for Evelyn Walters in all of it. She’s out for herself and still doesn’t get it (and Geoff was far from a victim), but she stood when it counted. She took action on one good thing. And watching them all collectively work together to get Lindsay what he deserved? Delicious.

And then we’ve got my girl Noelene who also went through The Most™️ oh… She’s got so much to figure out about standing up for herself and what she wants, and Rob’s got so much growing to do to be a better husband and father. But she did stand up for herself. She stopped being afraid to tell people how she felt and what she needed. She called Rob out on his racist tendencies and opened up to him about her work/motherhood balance, and she called out Helen for using her like everyone else and overworking her, and they both listened. She has hope ahead of her, and it was beautiful to see.

A few other small notes:

The whole Dale/Kay dynamic was so strange, but it needed to happen. Her constant comparisons of him and Geoff helped fuel his necessary fall. And it served to show what a terrible place Dale was in.

Cheryl got married!!! Good for her 🩷

Fuck Bill, and congrats to Helen for being like “I’m not gonna be punished because I didn’t wanna fuck you”

Tim gets a well deserved love and happy ending!!!

I’m really happy they brought back Linus. What a treasure.

Overall, as sad as I am to see this show go, they delivered on all counts. Everything they said they would be, they were. Every arc, satisfying. Just so beautifully and masterfully done, and with love by everyone involved. 18 episodes of perfection. And if Michael Lucas and Emma Freeman ever produce another show together and hire Anna Torv and/or Sam Reid or any of the wonderful-across-the-board cast? I will get my VPN’s worth as an American and be there for it.

[tcifob]

Angel City Opens 2025 Pre-Season Training Camp

Rico Cabrera, Sr. Feb 2, 2025

*[ACFC Forward Christen Press]

(On being able to play another year after returning from injury last season)……“I never thought I would be 36 years old and still playing. I wonder if it was because when I became a professional, there wasn’t a professional league like this. It sort of felt like a shooting star career and as long as you could be a US women’s national team player, it was worth it and otherwise not.”

“Even wanting to continue to play for me shows how far it has come in those 14 years. I’m really proud to be playing. We saw a mass exodus and so many retirements from my peers, which I think we self-proclaimed ourselves as the ‘golden generation’ 2015, 2019 World Cup Champions.

“To be going through such a long recovery and my very first injury of my career, I was balancing so many complex emotions. When I started the year in 2024, I had had my four surgeries and my goal was to play in a game, a single game, and I almost thought it would be a goodbye game. I almost thought that I had lost my mind for even trying because the reality of my circumstance was telling me I couldn’t.”

“How many surgeries does one get before they’re deemed insane, right? As last season progressed, the gift of my injury really allowed me to start seeing the world from inside my body and really being in tune with what my body wanted and needed. I got to experience the sport in an entirely different way.”

(On what drives her to keep playing)…“It is a blessing to be outside in the sun and a blessing to be able to smell the grass. To play on a team with so many women and balance teamwork, camaraderie, leadership, mentorship, and the exchange of energy when we play together. There’s nothing in the world that can bond a group of women together more than sports. It is a great privilege to be able to experience the joy of playing soccer with people I admire.”

(On how she embraces her role in teaching younger players)…“I want to make sure our young players that I do share a locker room with have all of the things they need to develop not only as humans, but also as soccer players. What we do have in our locker room that is special is a desire to help each other through mentorship and teamwork that is special and rare. A lot of that was created because of what it stands for to play for this club.”

“My favorite part of last season was getting to work with our young players. It is a crazy thing when you’re twice the age of one of your teammates, but getting to show them what worked for me and allowing them to make it better has been incredible.”

“We have so much young talent in our locker room, and each one of them has different strengths, some that I’m able to relate to more than others, but there is always something that we can give and receive.”

(On newly added Sporting Director, Mark Parsons)…“I know that he will have an eye on development. I know about the professionalism he brings to this environment and that we’ll be able to create an environment that’s individualized for a veteran player and for a young player as well.

[liyuviq]

I'm reaaaaally interested to know if you have any thoughts about how our Yuus would get along 👀

So I present to you: Tomoe & Irina!

ohohohoho let me see…

honestly i love all yuusonas n would like to make shin befriend every single one 😩 but realistically there would be some shin wouldn’t hit off with

for tomoe there would be this immediate bond since she is Japanese but her personality wouldn’t mesh with shin as friends. in fact, tomoe will just gain another troublesome kid to look after 😭🙏. but once tomoe starts showing her smart side, especially her strategist mind, oh boi they would be unstoppable. she dislikes when things deviate from her plan which pairs welll with shin’s ability to plan things on the spot ahhh. but also shin can be impulsive and stubborn but tomoe’s responsibility and ‘think before u act’ mindset will help balance tht out!

okay moving on to irina. she is so precious and i want her to live happily and have supportive friends 💕💕 BUT SHIN IS NOT GOING TO BE TOO KIND TO HER AT FIRST (shin why-😭😭) okay shin is not going to be mean, but they can be blunt and dismissive to irina’s more timid and anxious personality (not purposely!). but shin is observant, so if they notice she is getting really anxious then they will give her some space. shin is not the type to comfort others with words but will try to make things easier through actions, such as by removing the source of irina’s stress. but if irina sticks around long enough, shin might eventually grows to be more understanding of emotions and see past irina’s initial impression to know her much better.

[practicalgauntlet]

Δεν θέλω να σε αφήσω

"I don't want to leave you."

Your POV

Synopsis- Sacrifice one of your characters who doesn't want to die and watch them beg to live.

Category- Heavy angst

Notes- I'm writing a full-length fic for Ao3 and experiencing major writer's block, so here's a prompt I stole from Pinterest. This will be a two-part story but there will be no happy ending so don't ask (I have a plan for how I want this written) I will write the fluffiest story I can to make up for it though. Stay tuned.

Warnings- Heavy angst, character death, conon typical gore and violence, no happy ending, I'm feeling very evil today, kidnapping, grief, murder, mentions of torture but no description, established relationship, flashbacks to make all this bearable. Poorly written medical scenes.

Word count- 2,883

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Denial-

You were blindfolded, gagged, and bound in the back of a rattling van. As far as you could tell there were only two people beside you. One driving the van down a winding, bumpy road, and the other in the back with you- holding a gun to your forehead.

How could you have been that stupid?

How could you have let your guard down during a chase?

You were trained better than that.

The team had split up to cover more ground, two members in each direction. You were teamed up with Morgan, much to Spencer's chagrin. Ever since the wedding, he didn't like to be apart from you. But you had spotted a light shining off in the distance, its beam bouncing as if the owner was running. Stupidly, you charged for it, ignoring Morgan's call after you.

It wasn't until a bag was pulled over your head that you realized it was a trap. One that would pull you at least forty-five minutes away from the team.

The van jolted, bouncing up and down as if the road were littered with large rocks and potholes. Maybe it was, you had no idea where you were.

"Why can't we just shoot her? She's a cop."

Your gun-wielding captor murmured, pressing the barrel of the weapon harder against your head. Your heart was pounding but you refused to say anything, refused to give them anything they were looking for.

"Because, jackass, we need 'er. We could hold 'er ransom, she's obviously important. Did you see that one guy lookin' for 'er? I was scared he was goin' to start crashin' out."

"Ugh," The man in front of you presses the gun harder before pulling it away entirely. "Fine."

If your team was going to find you, you were going to have to do your part and get away. Leaving a trail was your best bet. Draw their attention to where you are heading if you can't get out. They were going to find you.

So, with a controlled deep breath, you kick your foot out to the man closest to you. Pride and energy exploded through you as soon as you heard that tale-tell sound of a gun clattering across the floor.

"What the fuck-"

You had managed to get both the gag and the blindfold off, your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the sun streaming in through the windshield and windows. You didn't let it deter you. Quickly you strike, kicking the man once again as you struggle unbinding your hands.

The van swerves and you lose your balance, falling to the ground and landing in a heap of twisted limbs. You didn't have enough time to react as the man towering above you brought the butt of the gun across your skull.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Anger-

The sky was a vibrant blue with no cloud in sight. Spencer fussed over the use of sunscreen. He didn't want the honeymoon to be ruined over something as preventable as a bad sunburn. You let him dote over you, his wandering hands rubbing the sunscreen over your face and shoulders.

He was so handsome in his thin, white linen shirt and dark slacks, that leather satchel strapped across his chest like always. The two of you were at the beach, the city of Santorini glistening behind you with its bleach-white buildings and cobalt roofs.

When Spencer looked over to you, his sunglasses reflecting the pure joy on your face, he grabbed your hand.

"I'm so excited for forever with you."

"Me too, Spence." - You were tied up to a rusty beam, arms stretched high above your head, toes just barely touching the ground. Your arms ached, your head throbbed, your body was sore. But you still fought, still writhed in place to wear down the rope digging into your skin.

"They'll fucking find you!"

You scream, throat scratchy and ragged. It had been hours since you had been tossed into the basement and unceremoniously tied up. Could it have been more than that? Days? Weeks?

No one answered. Still, you kicked the air, threats echoing into silence. You were literally talking to a brick wall that this point.

"Do whatever you want to me, I'll never talk."

You spit at the ground, ears catching the faintest scrape before the door swung open. Two men and one woman approached. By the looks of it, with her head held high and her confident strut just a few feet in front of the men, she was their leader.

"What the fuck do you want with me, cunt!"

You scream again, energy and anger returned now that you have something organic to yell at. She grabs your face, dagger-sharp nails digging into your cheeks as she squeezes so hard she forces your jaw open.

"Watch your mouth, bitch."

"Make me."

She chuckles darkly, the sound so evil you feel it taint your soul.

"You heard the lady." She snaps her dangerously manicured fingers and the man to your right steps forward. "Make her."

Hours pass and you don't know how much longer you could take their torture. Knives, whips, waterboarding. Anything they could get their hands on, they used. But the lives of your team were at steak. If they weren't already on their way to rescue you.

Blood was lost and skin was ripped. You were kept awake, on the brink of consciousness for so long that you didn't think anything was real anymore. This was supposed to be an easy case, in and out. Spencer promised that he would take you out to dinner; a cute little Greek place that reminded the two of you of the honeymoon.

It was almost like you could see Santorini again. The blinding bright light of the lamp above you twisting and swirling into a midday sun. The sweltering hot heat of the basement bled into the summer air as the two of you walked from one bookstore to the other all the while Spencer rambled on about something you couldn't remember.

The brick walls morphed into the stark white walls of the Air B&B Spencer had rented, with its open windows and stone floors. And soon you were trailing behind Spencer, trying to keep up with his long legs as he pulled you down the cobblestone street.

Your face suddenly stung, your cheek igniting in a powerful blaze that ripped you out of your daydream.

"Wake the fuck up."

You spit in her face and feebly kick at her shins as you continue to dangle. You were too tired to do anything else.

She clicks her tongue at you, smiling a snake's smile.

"Your friends should be here any second. And if they play nice, I might let one of them live."

"You touch-"

Another slap, this time to your other cheek. That fire inside of you, the one that kept you going for however long you'd been there, was slowly dying. You were slowly dying.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Bargaining-

They had set up a camera. It was an older model that sat on a tripod directly in front of you. On the table to your left sat an old landline; it was on speakerphone. You could hear your team making deal after deal for you, and you could only assume the camera was for them.

"Please..." You whisper, your voice meak. You were so tired, eyes heavy and body numb. You felt like you were floating.

The woman was gone now, her two goons watching you from the table. They refused every deal Hotch made. You don't know why they refused or why they were keeping you here. What did you have that wasn't already offered by your boss?

The man to the left, Dimitri as you learned, grinned an awful smile as he watched you dangle like meat on a hook.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch-"

You briefly hear Spencer's voice over speakerphone, the sound like a mirage in the middle of a desolate desert. It pulled you further into the memories that kept you from breaking.

"I love you so much, my darling..."

Dimitri stood, chuckling as you heard a scuffle from the other end of the phone. Spencer was most likely pulled away from the table, kicking and fighting as Morgan took him out of the room.

Your mind was slipping, switching back and forth between fantasy and reality. Soft kisses you could almost feel. The blinding pain in your wrists as the rope rips your skin. His shining smile as you say 'I do'. The throbbing ache all across your body where those fucking monsters continue to cut. The silk sheets sliding against your skin as Spencer kisses down your body.

Finally, Hotch made a deal they seemed interested in. A one-way ticket to dissappear without the threat of the government chasing after them.

"I guess we don't need you no more. It's such a shame, I was just startin' to like ya."

Dimitri raised his gun, the barrel aimed at your temple. It was so close, the bite of the metal against your skin sending adrenaline-filled shivers across your body.

"No, please!" You try, energy coursing through your body as the reality of the situation kicks in.

"Awe, little miss thinks she can plead her way out of this."

The other man, Kyle, joined in. His joy was just as twisted as Dimitri's.

"I don't want to die! You got what you want, please. I have a husband, and a life, and friends!"

You heard somewhere that if you recite your life, your loved ones, and memories, you'd remind them that you were human.

"Boo fuckin' hoo," Kyle mocked as he walked towards the phone and hung up on your team. He moved the camera closer, one last fuck you to the government that failed them.

"You don't understand, please. We got married three- three weeks ago, Penelope’s birthday is next week and I haven't gotten her a present yet. I haven't, I haven't seen my parents all year. Please put the gun down, put it down, please. "

He cocked the gun and squeezed the trigger.

You brace for the pain, the pressure you'd imagine you'd feel. But it didn't come.

"That shit won't work on me, sweetheart. I don't give a shit whether or not you have a litter of ankle biters and plan on meetin' with the president. You're not getting outta this."

"Why?"

"Because I like the look on your face."

Another click. You didn't know if there was even a bullet in the chamber, but every time he pulled the trigger, you flinched.

"This," He drags a meaty finger down your cheek, collecting the tears that were spilling. "Is why."

He licked the tear off his finger, grinning like a madman before pulling the trigger for the sixth time. This was it. Everything happened in slow motion, the release of the gun, the maniacal cackle of the men before you.

Still, you were alive. Still, you were dangling in that basement.

"Please!"

Is all you can say.

"Please stop,"

All other words disappear from your vocabulary.

"Stop, please. I don't wanna die!"

You were rendered a rambling child, begging for a chance to live while they played God with your existence.

Suddenly, you hear an explosion of sound above you. Thundering footsteps, gunshots, falling bodies. They found you.

"I'd say your last words now, mother fucker because you'll never be a free man again."

Dimitri growled in your face. He leaned in real close, his putrid breath fanning across your face.

"And you'll never make it to your one year anniversary."

Boiling, white hot pain spread from your stomach. A knife, its blade twisted in your guts before Dimitri and Kyle are tackled to the ground.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Depression-

The salty air blew gently across your heated face, the crashing waves like music around you. Spencer pulled you out of the Air B&B after dinner, dragging you down to the beach where he convinced you to a late-night swim.

It was severely out of character for him, but he was just so happy to be married, to be by your side, that he allowed his impulses to rule the night.

The full moon was your only source of light, but you could be blind and still find your way beside him. He was loose and carefree in a way you've never seen him before.

The two of you were waist-deep in water, the tepid waves lapping at your bodies. He held you, one hand in yours and the other on the small of your back, as the two of you rocked to the sound of the ocean.

"I don't think I've ever been this happy before."

He confessed, his face bright. He was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world, and at the moment - with the beach empty - you felt like it.

"Me neither, Spence."

"Please stay with me..."

His voice was different. It was strained, not at all matching the blissful expression on his face. Spencer sounded far away, panicked. All at once, the comfortable warmth of the summer night ocean turned boiling.

Wet, blazing warmth spread across your stomach and leg.

"What?"

"Come, on. Wake up, please. Stay with me."

"I don't want to leave you, Spence."

You were so confused. You weren't going anywhere, not anytime soon. Especially not now.

His face screwed up, his brows drawing in. Tears you didn't notice fell from his lashes as his chin wavered.

"Then stay with me, please."

The night sky disappeared. In its place was a white ceiling. The sound of crashing waves turned into wailing sirens and blunt orders. Spencer's hands around your body turned into the straps of a gurney.

"Spencer?"

You didn't know where he was, your mind still desperately grasping that memory.

"I'm right here, baby. I'm here."

Spencer leaned over you and his worried face was in your vision. He placed his hand on your face, his thumb tracing idle circles into your cheek.

"Where are we?"

Where did the ocean go? You miss it terribly.

"We're on our way to the hospital, darling. You're going to be okay. "

You had the feeling that he was saying that more to himself than to you. But it was comforting nonetheless.

Your eyes felt too heavy, your body too cold. It didn't feel like you were in an ambulance, it felt like you were floating in the ocean, your body suspended in time.

"No, no, no!"

Spencer yelled.

Why was he yelling? You were having such a good time at the beach.

"Baby, please!"

He tapped your cheek, his hands suddenly too warm.

"Calm down, Spence."

Words spilled out of your mouth like molasses, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth.

"Were in Greece..."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Acceptance-

"Scalple."

There was an insistent beeping.

Everything was dark, your body floating in a void that was all too familiar.

Muffled murmurs, a metallic release of air, something wet.

"Baby?"

You turn, and the darkness bled into a soft light. You were in Spencer's apartment, arms and legs tangled with his.

"Yes, my love?"

"I'm going to miss you."

You prop yourself up on your elbow and tuck a piece of hair behind his ear.

"What do you mean, dork? I'm not going anywhere."

Spencer looked so sad.

"What's wrong, Spence?"

He pulled you forward with both hands on your face. Spencer kissed you deeply, his lips moving over yours in a way that had your heart soaring.

When he pulled away, he tucked you under his chin.

"Nothing, just rest."

The sheets were not as soft as your remember, his body not as warm. Something was off. And then it hit you. The van, the torture, the knife.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

Spencer said nothing, only pulling you closer.

"Did I at least get to say good bye?"

A kiss to your forehead but still no comment.

"Spencer, say something please..."

"The time I spent with you had been the best years of my life."

Oh god.

"Don't say that, baby."

"You'll always be the love of my life. No one will replace you."

"No, Spencer. Stop."

"I'll see you soon, my darling. You better be waiting for me on the other side."

You claw at him, begging him to stop saying such stupid things. But he doesn't respond, only settling further into the bed and holding you as tight as he could.

After a while, you give up and hold onto him as well. You lay there, in his arms, for so long you start to relax.

"I'll wait for you, Spencer. But do me a favor."

He finally looks at you, tears freely flowing down his face.

"Don't subject yourself to a lonely life just because I'm not there. If you meet someone, you meet someone. I just hope they make you happy. That's all I want."

He smoothes his hand down the back of your head.

"Promise me, Spence."

"I promise."

You knew he was lying, but you also knew this wasn't Spencer. It was your subconscious mind preparing you for departure.

You stay in his arms after that, imagining what awaited you on the other side.

[organic-bloodbath]

Can you write about kang Dae-ho x American reader, that Dae-ho has developed a big crush on the reader but he doesn't know how to respond to it because he's never been ina relationship before and everyone else in the group (except the reader) notices it and tease him about it?

Just admit you like me

Dae-ho x American!Reader

This applies to two different requests i got, the second one being:

"Can write about Dae-ho x American reader that Dae-ho having a crush on reader saves her in the mingle game and once it came down to two players, Dae-ho was able to have an opportunity to admit his feelings to the reader and share their first kiss?"

— Anon

Summary: As above. Dae-ho just being a nervous wreck around you.

A/N: i love this man sm. He's just a bit lost with his feelings here.

☆☆☆

You felt out of place. You were the only non-Asian player here and felt like everyone's eyes were on you whenever you weren't paying attention, though you might have been only imagining things.

You had arrived to Korea to spend your holidays here, you got two weeks off from college and needed to travel somewhere by yourself. Somewhere you couldn't possibly run into anyone you personally knew. Joining a game of life and death for money - a lot of money too - hadn't been on the list of things and places to experience during your stay in this country.

When the first person was shot to death, all you wanted to do was run away like so many other players, but you knew there was nowhere to escape. You felt your body shaking and it was a miracle your movements weren't noticed.

Suddenly, as you started running again, you tripped and lost your balance, falling backwards after some idiot pushed you - intentionally or not. For a second you were sure you were going to die, that was it, your part on the game ended before it had even properly started. Your family would report you as a missing person and would never get you back home or even know what happened to you.

Until you felt someone grab your body behind you. Arms wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you against their chest. The massive doll had turned to face you right at that same second, so you weren't able to stand up and take a better position. This person was fully in charge of holding you up and saving your life in process. The position you were in was extremely uncomfortable.

When you were allowed to move again, this person helped you to stand up again on your own, and you turned around to face him. Now in front of you stood a young man, looking down at you.

"Oh, thank you," you said quietly. "You saved me."

The doll turned around again, freezing you on your place, your head still turned towards the man's face. You had been too slow to react and continue the game.

"You're welcome," the man subtly said between his teeth, trying not to move his lips too much.

Before you started running again, he gave you a sweet smile. In only a few seconds he catched up with you and stayed right in front of you.

"Stay behind me," he said quietly, and you did as you were told.

You ran the rest of the game the same pace as him, not moving anywhere behind him. You were going to be screwed if he was going to be shot and you'd have to jump over his dead body.

But luckily, both of you made it to the end. After reaching the finish line, you walked to the guy who had catched you.

"Hi, um, thank you again," you said nervously. "Without you i'd be dead, i suppose."

"No big deal, glad to help," he smiled.

"I'm Y/N," you said and offered your arm for him to shake.

"Dae-ho," he said with a slight smile, taking your hand in his, which was much bigger than yours.

When he didn't figure out what more to say, you left him to stand there alone and went back inside.

That evening, Dae-ho wanted to approach and talk to you, but he was constantly overthinking what he would say to you. How did you start a conversation with a stranger? With a woman as gorgeous as you?

"Hi, how are you?"

"Good, thanks for asking."

"Okay, great. Bye."

Talking to men, he didn't care what he said to them and if it would mess up the conversation. To you, he would have wanted to make a good impression.

He didn't know what it was about you but when had saved your life during the game and you had turned to look at him and thank him, he was so taken aback by the sight of you for a second he had almost forgotten how to move.

☆☆☆

The next day arrived and you were given 10 minutes to prepare groups of five for the second game. You looked around the room, until your gaze landed on the group which Dae-ho was included.

"Hi, um, could i join your group?" you asked shyly, not knowing who you could rely on. The only person that had spoke to you by far, and helped too, was Dae-ho, and he felt like the safest option to choose. You looked at all three men at the same time, meaning the question to all of them.

"Of course, welcome," Gi-hun said smiling and motioned you to sit down next to him as you waited for the game to start.

You looked towards Dae-ho who only gave you a nod and an awkward smile. One more girl joined the group. She was apparently pregnant, but you all welcomed her with open arms.

When it was your group's turn to play, your feet were linked to each other, your left foot against Dae-ho's.

You rested your hand on Dae-ho's waist, your other hand on Gi-hun's back as well to keep your balance as the five of you started walking forward in total sync between the mini games.

You couldn't see it because you only kept your gaze forward, but every time you pressed your hand on Dae-ho's back, his cheeks turned a little red and his heart started beating faster. And when you let go, he instantly missed your touch.

When you had finished the entire game and could walk on your own again, all of you cheered in excitement for surviving another game. You hugged Gi-hun next to you and then wrapped your arms around Dae-ho, completely startling him.

"We made it," you smiled against his chest and let go.

You didn't think too much of it, you were a people hugger. The hug didn't last longer than couple of seconds, but Dae-ho would think about your touch on his skin until he fell asleep that night.

☆☆☆

"So," Gi-hun started as your group was eating the dinner together after the second game, "what's it like to live in America? Which state are you from?"

"I've been living in California for the past five years, though i was born in Michigan. I moved there for college and really like it there," you explained.

Gi-hun and Young-il asked bunch of questions about your studies, the differences you've noticed between the U.S. and Korea and so on. They told you about places which you must visit before you return to California and you had heard of none of them before, excited to go and see them. Gi-hun especially mentioned one diner you'd have to try.

Dae-ho sat next to you, barely saying anything during the conversation, just looking at you, smile on his face. Your voice was like music to his ears and he could have listened to you talking all day long until you were out of breath.

"Right, Dae-ho?" you asked, turning your face towards him, startling him out of his trance. He hadn't realised he had zoned out and not listened to you for the past couple of minutes.

"Huh?" he breathed out and straightened his back. "Yes, right, exactly."

He had no idea what you had said to him, but in panic he knew he should just agree whatever you were saying.

"See, the Marine guy agrees with me too," you said to Gi-hun and put your hand on Dae-ho's shoulder.

Dae-ho noticed Jun-hee holding her laugh but tried to ignore it. You paid it no attention. When you had turned your face away from Dae-ho, he gave Jun-hee an annoyed look to shut it.

"So, Y/N," Jun-hee started, taking care of the next route in the conversation, giving Dae-ho a subtle, but suggesting grin. "Are you in California by yourself or with someone?"

"Oh, i'm not alone," you said, making Dae-ho's heart drop for a second. "I live with my roommate, Sarah."

"That's nice," Jun-hee said slowly. "There's nobody else, hm, special in your life?"

"Not right now, if you don't count my dog," you chuckled.

Jun-hee winked at Dae-ho when you weren't watching.

Gi-hun and Young-il were talking together about something that didn't interest Dae-ho, and Jun-hee got up to go to the bathroom. That left you and Dae-ho alone, just the two of you for a moment.

"What do you plan to do with the money when we get out?" you asked. "Like, after you've payed off whatever debts you owe, of course."

Dae-ho tried to gather his words together and explained some of his plans to you.

"And you?" he asked.

"Well, i'm not sure yet," you said. "I know i want to travel a lot, maybe spend a year just exploring the world."

"That sounds fun," Dae-ho agreed. "I've always wanted to travel more."

"Maybe you could join me one day," you suggested, smiling.

"Oh, yea, maybe," Dae-ho said and turned his face away from you. He felt his cheeks becoming warmer.

☆☆☆

Next morning, you truly started to feel like Dae-ho was intentionally ignoring you. You had had that feeling ever since the day one. Almost every time you looked at him and your eyes connected for barely a second, he immediately turned his face away and avoided your gaze.

Jun-hee was walking towards the bathroom, but you managed to stop her and pull her to the side.

"Hey, can i ask you something?" you asked quietly, looking around you to see if anyone else would hear you, until turning back to her. "I don't know if i'm just imagining things but is Dae-ho mad at me or something?"

Jun-hee furrowed her eyebrows. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't know, he's seemed to avoid me and i feel like i've made him maybe upset."

"Oh don't worry, he's not mad at you," she chuckled.

You furrowed your brows, confused what might be the problem then. "What is it then? Do you know something?"

Jun-hee was about to say something but shut her mouth before any words were able to leave her lips. "You know, maybe you should just talk to him."

Then, she just hurried away, leaving you by yourself. That was odd.

☆☆☆

"So, Y/L's pretty, isn't she?" a man asked, suddenly appearing next to Dae-ho, startling him. It was player 124 smirking at him, elbows leaning on his knees as he sat down. He had never talked to Dae-ho before, so he was confused for a fair reason.

"What?" Dae-ho mumbled. "I mean, um, sure."

He looked towards you, feeling butterflies in his stomach when he heard your laugh all the way to the spot he was sitting at.

"Do you think i'd have chance with her?" the player 124 asked. "You two are friends, right? Could you ask her what her type is?"

"Her type?" Dae-ho's eyes widened and there was a pitch in his voice. He couldn't watch another man to flirt with you, there was no way.

"Yeah. Like what kind of guy she is into?"

"Well, i don't know. She hasn't talked to me about it," Dae-ho nervously shrugged.

"Okay, so," he started and put his arm around Dae-ho, "you go and ask her and come to speak to me again after the next game, yes?"

"Um, i don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on, brother. Man to man. I'll owe you one," the player 124 winked and smacked Dae-ho's shoulder, then standing up.

When the guy, whose name Dae-ho wasn't sure of, had left, Dae-ho felt his heart burst. He couldn't watch another man make a move on you, it would absolutely kill him. Thankfully, the guy didn't rush immediately towards you, but to his own group which included Thanos, a few other guys and a girl. Dae-ho didn't know the girl's name, but why couldn't he try to hit on her instead, and not his Y/N?

His Y/N. You weren't exactly his either, but he didn't want to see you with anyone else except him. But of course that wouldn't happen if he didn't actually talk to you about it. He had started to feel possessive over you for no reason and he somehow managed to make himself mad without anyone else's effort.

Jun-hee was next to come and keep him company.

"So, she thinks you're mad at her," she said seriously.

"Mad? I'm not mad at her," Dae-ho insisted, confused, and straightened his back.

"Come on, you have to say something and stop avoiding her like that." Jun-hee took in a deep, frustrated breath when Dae-ho didn't know what to answer. "Why is it so hard to just be yourself around her?" Jun-hee asked, clearly frustrated with his attitude and behavior.

"I just," Dae-ho started but didn't find the words. "I don't know."

"Anyone with eyes can see that she's gorgeous and if you don't act soon, she's gonna be off the market."

With that said, Jun-hee got up and left him alone. Dae-ho knew she was right and he hated it. He could already see you running into player 124's arms if he didn't start doing something about this. And that image itself in his mind made him feel ill.

☆☆☆

The Mingle challenge started and Dae-ho knew he had to make sure that you weren't left alone at any point and be lost among the crowd, all freaking out and almost ripping each others' clothes off. When the carousel was slowly spinning and everyone stood still, Dae-ho stood right next to you, gently putting his hand on your wrist.

"Stick close to me, okay?" he said quietly and swallowed.

"I will," you answered with a smile that made Dae-ho automatically smile as well.

"Can i hold your hand?" Dae-ho asked, nervous for your reaction. "Just in case, you know."

You looked at him in the eyes with a warm gaze.

"Sure," you said and took his hand in yours, taking a tight grip with your fingers so he couldn't easily let go of you.

As the rounds went by, Dae-ho didn't let go of you even for a second until you had safely arrived inside one of the rooms and the door had been locked.

When it was time to find a room for two, Dae-ho immediately sprinted towards the rooms as fast as possible, trying to be one of the firsts to reach a free room.

After the door locked, he almost forgot to let go of your hand, finally relieved that the game must now be over.

"Dae-ho?" you said next to him.

"Oh, sorry," he stuttered and let go of you.

"You've been acting oddly, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, everything's fine," he assured you but by the tone of his voice he knew you weren't buying it either. This was it, he had to be direct with you right now or otherwise the player 124 would reach to you first. "Okay, fine. It's just, i get so nervous around you."

"Nervous?" you repeated. "What makes you nervous?"

"You," he whispered with a mere breath. "You, because i... i like you, Y/N."

"I like you too, Dae-ho," she said, confused. "I really struggle to see the problem."

"No, i mean i really like you," Dae-ho corrected himself. "Like more than anyone else here. A lot more. Like just, differently."

You narrowed your eyes, until let out a quick laugh, hiding it with your hand. Dae-ho was scared that he had just completely embarrassed himself.

"Dae-ho," you smirked and looked back into his eyes, speaking slowly. "Are you saying that you have a crush on me?"

His cheeks turned red. "Um, i suppose i am, yes."

"How long, hm?"

"Since the time you crashed on me on the first day probably," he admitted and looked away for a moment, but you put your hand on his cheek and made him look at you.

"Have you never liked a girl before, Dae-ho? What are you so afraid about?"

"Well, um-"

"That i wouldn't like you back?" you questioned.

"Probably, yeah," he stuttered.

"Well, i think you're really sweet," you started and took his hands in yours, now both of them. "And brave. Funny. Strong..."

"But?" Dae-ho asked, sure there was gonna be a turn in her words which made him feel hopeful.

"There's no 'but', silly," you said and playfully hit his shoulder. "I haven't known you long enough to get to the 'but' part."

Dae-ho looked at your hands tangled together, but you lifted his face up, finger on his chin.

"I like you too, Dae-ho," you said. "And i would like to get to know you better if you'd stop avoiding eye contact with me."

Dae-ho let out a relieved laugh.

"That's, well, good to hear," he said and swallowed, eyes moving between yours and your lips. Even though it was only a second, you noticed it and took his face in your hands.

You planted a soft kiss on his lips, not longer than couple of seconds. Almost right after that, the door unlocked itself.

"Nothing more romantic than bunch of people being slaughtered behind the door while we share our first kiss," you pointed out, both of you laughing.

"I hope there will be many more," Dae-ho whispered.

"There might, if you take me on a date."

"If we get out of here alive," he said.

"We will get out, have some hope," you insisted. "I'll take you to America too some day, if you want to."

"Really?"

"Of course."

You pressed another kiss on his cheek, until took his hand in yours and led him back to the rest of your group, relieved that all of them had survived.

Dae-ho couldn't stop smiling and could still feel the ghost of your lips on his cheek.

☆☆☆

A/N: If you've sent me a request, know that i'm working on them when i'm in the mood to write about that specific character, i'll try to update the existing fics too which have more parts coming up but it'll take a while 🫶🏻💙

[hammerton365]

You’re in my head24/7

“Y/N,” His voice was stern, clearly fed up with your antics. “M’sorry! It’s just too much..” You groggily trailed off, body shivering at Erens forceful tone. For some back story, you and Eren had started dating 3 weeks ago.

You’d both known each other since college. You, a STEM major, and Eren, a Political Science major you’d happened to have a project together in a science class you both were required to take. You and Eren would hang out with each other between classes, just talking and sharing things that you two had in common. Up until recently you both had clearly been denying your feelings for each other that had lingered for years and decided it was best just to push them away, as Eren was clearly not one for commitment and you were deathly scared of having your heart broken, never being in a relationship or intimate before. Eren loved clubbing and you— being obsessed with him and always wanting to spend time with him, after a night of clubbing, grew tired of seeing him with a new woman every other day, going from girl to girl without any hesitancy. So after a lot of contemplation, you invited him over to confess. To your surprise, he immediately reciprocated your feelings.

And now a few weeks have flown by and you and Eren finally decided that you wanted to be intimate together. Only thing was, there was one teeeny tiny problem— You were a virgin, and never having orgasmed before, not to mention you were very sensitive down there— Something Eren wasn’t used to. At the moment you were laying on Erens silky bedding sheets soaked in sweat and arousal.

Now, you would think that you were sweating because of the marathon sex that you and Eren had indulged in, but no. Truth be told, Eren hadn’t even put his dick inside of you at this point. “C’mon, I don’t have all day, baby.” Erens patience hadn’t always been his best feature, even with you. “M’sorry..” Erens frustrated sigh comes out more of a shaky moan, preparing himself to take you. “Stop apologizing, bend your ass down and stop running from this shit.” His raspy voice sends shivers down your spine straight to your clit, making your inside pulse around nothing. Not wanting Eren to get any more impatient, and may save your chances of having some shred of pussy and sanity left after he is done with you.

You assume your position, his favorite— backshots, as you had been told by him previously. Attempting to give Eren the best arch possible. You looked back at him hoping that he would get the memo that you were ready, “You ready?” He asked, licking his lips seemingly with a fire lit behind his eyes, ready to ravage you. You nodded your head hoping that would be a good enough answer for him— clearly thinking wrong. SLAP “Answer me with words.” It was like his voice went 12 octaves deeper, his jaw clenched. “Y-Yes ‘Ren I’m ready to take you!” You moaned out. Your arousal getting the best of you. He gave your ass a few soft taps “Good job mama,”

Eren wasted absolutely no time slipping into your sweet tight heaven, only to be met with a tight ring of resistance. He lavished in the way that it squeezed around his cock head, making him hiss in pleasure. “F-Fuck haven’t broken one of these in a while…” you little soft Whimper at the stretching sting of his intruding tip, on instinct, your body jerks forward, sliding him out completely.

Before you could go very far, his arm landed on your shoulder, “Darlin’ I’m never gonna get to break you in if you don’t straighten up.” He gave your ass a stinging SLAP. He yanked your arms from in front of you where they were planted onto the bed to keep your balance, leaving you to fall flat on your face. Grabbing both wrists into one hand, and using his other to line himself back up again.

“Ur not gonna have the chance to run away this time, so you better buckle up.” Eren still had some type of humility in him so he continued to go gentle just for the first couple of minutes, sliding in and out of your hole so you could adjust before he finally decided to fully thrust in.

He threw his bed, head back, shamelessly and let out a loud growl, “Aw now that’s what I’m talking about!” he bit his lip as he was at peace to become forceful.

“This is some good fuckin’ pussy!” Your back arched into a C, as the pain slowly feed it out into a more pleasurable feeling your mouth became like a sink, spilling out noises that filled the room. The faster Eren went the more the bed creaked, you almost thought that it would break. “E-Eren fuuucckkk!”

Eren was entranced by the way that your ass met his pelvis, clapping back on him like a standing ovation. You thought it couldn’t get any better until you felt it— Eren had found your g-spot. “AH-shit-shit-shiiitt!” Your toes were curled almost painfully, Eren letting out a loud laugh

“Oh~? Seems I found that little button that makes your brain short circuit.” You somehow managed to free one of your hands from Eren’s tight grip, using it to push back on his hard abs— It’s laughable really, thinking Eren would take mercy on you virgin or not. When he was in the zone he was focused on making his partner cum, no matter what.

“Hands.” His voice was stern almost if you got in trouble for being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

“Feels weird Erennnn!” You were going crazy at this point, feeling every vein slide in and out of your soaked walls, but by the time he was done with you you’d be no more than a pile of puddy.

“Somethings coming out— F-Feels l-ike I gotta peee~!” Your legs began shaking, Eren knew you were close, hell you’d never even had an orgasam before and even you could tell.

“Mhm, it’s okay baby, ur going to squirt— just let it all out on papa.” His thrust became sharper, more aimed. With the way you were clenching Eren felt like he could cum right on the spot. Filling your pussy up with his seed and making you his. At this point he had let go of your hands and grabbed onto your hips for leverage, slamming himself into you. When you heard your friends talking about how they wish they could get some dick they could feel in their stomach, this must be what they meant because you could swear that that’s exactly where his dick was reaching and you couldn’t be told otherwise.

Tears begin to bloom in your eyes, further wetting the sheets under you. You were reaching for anything that you could grab to possibly get away from his harsh thrust. “Stop runnin’ from it and take this shit, be a good girl for me.” he leaned down growling in your ear, then taking your earlobe into his mouth to bite.

“I’m gonna cum! Oh god, I’m gonna cum!” You yelled out, screams ricocheting off his apartment walls. Erens cock had been forming a ring around his dick of cream and your wetness, he truly wanted to pick up the creamy mess with his finger and lick his digits clean.

His arms closed around your neck walking you in a chokehold he took it upon himself to begin sucking, hickeys into your shoulder in the side of your neck. His balls were slapping your clit making your eyes cross. His hand going to your chin and making you look into his eyes, enveloping you in a steamy kiss.

Pulling away he continued to look into your eyes, “You. Love. This. dick. Don’t you?” He held a firm look in his eyes, expecting no other answer than yes.

“Fuckkk yeahhh! FUCK!” You knew you were tipping over the edge when your vision was blurred white, it’s almost like the world around you disappeared, and all you could feel was the simmering heat of your orgasm. The feeling shot through like a strike of lightning, making your body lock up in your back arch almost painfully. you screamed out bloody murder, neighbors would almost think someone was plummeting a knife in your back if it weren’t for the sound on the headboard slamming against the wall. You juices slipping past your tight hold wetting up Erens pelvis.

“Ren-! Please slow down, can't take it s’ too much!” You were panting and wontonly moaning, “Take some out!” In response Eren grabs the headboard plowing into you like there’s no tomorrow, ravaging your pussy. “You creamin’ on my shit like the good girl you are?” Eren felt his orgasm approaching, quickly pulling out not wanting to cum just yet— at the night was still you and all you two had was time.

With heavy breaths, both you and Eren panting pushing himself off the bed, he grabbed your foot and pulled you to the edge pressing your knees right under your breast. “I don’t know what you think ur doin’ trying to catch a break but We’re not even close to done sweetheart.” You knew it was going to be a long night…

[eliotquillon]

write me a story where cameron finally learns chase is allergic to strawberries thank you (you can ignore this ask)

rip to chase if i couldn’t eat strawberries i’d pretend not to care about anything either. anyway set between s3 and s4 (or maybe at the very start of s4 idk whatever. point is they haven’t been together too long)

“I could’ve killed you,” Cameron says, sounding angry and annoyed and not very sorry, but Chase knows it’s all a front; she’d cried in the ambulance, small and scared looking as soon as the EMTs not-so-kindly told her that as a doctor she should know that there was little else they could do between giving him more epi and getting him to the hospital, and he’d wanted to reach out and comfort her, but that had been difficult what with his throat being all swollen up at the time. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t going to die, or anything,” Chase protests, because he doesn’t really want to talk about this right now: why he never bothered to sit Cameron down and go by the way, now that we’re sleeping each other regularly can you throw out everything you own that contains strawberry? Because there is a reason—Chase isn’t this cavalier with his health on a daily basis, honest—but it is going to upset her, and the whole reason why Chase never told her was specifically to avoid this kind of fight. There’s no polite way to say I was pretty sure you’d interpret it as a sign of impending commitment and run for the hills, especially now that Cameron is kind of adorably self-conscious about that whole period of their lives. He’s only been dating Cameron for three weeks; on balance, the risk of anaphylaxis is far less deadly than the one to their incredibly fledgling relationship. “I had my Epi-Pen on me.”

Cameron narrows her eyes at him in disgust. “I’m an immunologist,” she starts, preparing, no doubt, to rip into him about how Epi-Pens are a miracle of modern medicine but aren’t actually magic, and how anaphylactic reactions can worsen with repeat exposure, and Chase is actually kind of looking forward to it even though his throat is sore and his head is killing him and his body feels like it’s encased in syrup, because a side effect of the honeymoon phase is that he now finds it incredibly hot when she’s on the warpath, even at him—only she takes a big gulp of breath and she suddenly starts to cry again. Not quiet, terrified tears like the one in the ambulance, but big, rolling, heaving sobs. He’s seen her cry before, usually over patients, but not like this, and it freaks him out a little; Chase extends his IV-free arm towards her and corrals her in so she can rest her cheek on his chest. It’s lucky, he thinks, that they’d been closer to General than PPTH; she’d never let him do this if they were in the ER at Princeton-Plainsboro.

“Allison,” he says into her hair, voice still hoarse, “I’m fine. It was an accident.”

He almost adds this has never happened before—because it hasn’t, usually Chase has to actually ingest something strawberry to provoke a reaction, he’s never had one just from kissing someone until now—but he does, for better or for worse, know exactly how Cameron ticks, and he has a feeling that this won’t be as reassuring as he means for it to be. “I’m sorry,” he says instead, “I promise I’m not allergic to anything else.”

“You better not be,” Cameron huffs. She cranes her neck up to look at him, eyes red and puffy, and says, “You’re banned from my apartment until I can deep clean the kitchen. And the bathroom, and the bedroom. I have strawberry lube that I need to get rid of.”

“There’s probably not any actual strawberry in your lube,” Chase says. Cameron makes as though to thump his chest, then remembers he’s hooked up to an EKG and thinks better of it. “No need to ruin all our fun, is all I’m saying.”

“I’m an immunologist,” Cameron says again, but she doesn’t sob this time—it comes out more as a sigh. “You should’ve told me.”

Chase thinks, idly, of all the times Cameron brought her favourite strawberry cream cheese bagels into work and he’d turned them down—how many times House had raised his eyebrows at the sight, but never bothered to say anything, either. He thinks of Cameron crying in the ambulance. There’s a hazy memory of her suddenly running off as soon as the ambulance parked in the bay, which is strange, and then he realises she smells absurdly strongly of medical grade mint. “You threw up,” he realises, and pets her head clumsily. “You should’ve asked for some Zofran.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Cameron says. “When you’re better, we’re going to talk about this.” After a moment, she laces her hand with his. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She says it so nakedly that Chase doesn’t have it in him to fight back about her being mad at him anymore. “Told you I’m fine,” he says drowsily, and then he falls dead asleep.

[narbevoguel]

Back in the early F-Zero 99 days, I was in a stream chat where people were talking about the music of the game. I said Sand Ocean was my favorite theme of them all, and someone said that they thought the theme didn't belong in a racing game, and that it was a rather sad tune, therefore they didn't like it.

That last bit has been living in my head, rent free, ever since. Does it really sound like a sad tune?

DOES IT?! I don't think it does, but I have no idea why I let that get to me for the longest time.

Anyway, shameless Sand Ocean propaganda. It's been my favorite track theme since I was a kid, and thanks to that, the actual track is my favorite (although Death Wind II has been growing on me, I used to hate it as a kid, but now I like it a lot).

[flufflecat]

Got to stolen century in my relisten and started tearing up at work because of magnus carving the duck. Just me in the back room, crying over the dish sink for normal reasons.

[flygonscales]

2 weeks at uni and I’ve already reached peak procrastination. I found masking tape and somehow decided that the best use of my time was to make a tiny Belphemon-sleep.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Here are the issues I have with the book. Since it's a lot, I'll try to keep it as short as possible and only mention my biggest problems with it. So this list is not complete and I could write pages about it.

Let me start by saying that a good autobiography (or any book that highlights a real life person) should be balanced. It should not glorify that person or pretend that person is a god and without mistakes. I also have no problem with critizing Ze, because, let's face it, yes he made mistakes and fucked things up in the past and not every war decision or speech or whatever was good or perfect. The point is: the critique should be fair and balanced (this obviously doesn't apply to bad people in general and the books about them; but since Ze isn't a bad person...you get what I want to say). The portrayal of Ze in the book is anything but fair or balanced. Or true, for that matter (unless literally every person in Ze's life and who knows him better, including the Kvartal fam, Olena, Andriy or people like them, have been lying to everyone for decades).

Throughout the whole book Shuster does say that Ze is Ukrainian (and Jewish) but also always tries to paint him as an "Ukrainian Russian" - so Ze is actually Russian despite being a "Ukrainian" (basically using one of Russia's Propaganda lies). Ze is basically a stubborn "Ukrainian" who kind of deserves all the hate and arrogance he gets from "real Russians" during KVN times (and later) because Ze is an insufferable asshole during his KVN times. And that Russian treated Ukrainian (or from other former Soviet Union countries) teams badly (including racist remarks, looking down on them, treating them like slaves, insulting them, not giving them a fair chance,...) teams awfully is, in Ze's case, deserved. Because Ze was oh so focused on always winning - no matter what and the cost.

Speaking of KVN: According to Shuster, Ze was terrible as a person during his first years of stardom. A maniac who only lived for applause and needs it to survive and was willing to do absolutely everything to win and beat other teams. Because, you know, he's so obsessed with winning. To a point were even he gives a flying fuck about the Kvartal team and their members (Shuster basically hints that they all disliked Ze and he was some kind of group dictator who only wanted to work and win all the time and was reckless and took to many risks and almost destroyed everyones lifes). When Shuster finds something positive to write about, he quotes people from Kvartal but what he quotes are just general statements or people saying what KVN was like during the 1990s and early 2000s. The moment Shuster writes about Ze and was he (allegedly) like during this time it's almost only "team members" and "people who knem him" and "classmates" and all that stuff - so anon sources. Or it's just Shuster telling stuff without saying what his source is or him just have feelings and thoughts and drawing conclusions. If people get named they - surprise, surprise - have a lot of times bad things to say about Ze or are people who we never ever have heard of as being part of Ze's life. Btw, it's not very hard to guess who the "team member", who talked the KVN years and adds a lot of negative talk about Ze, is... . Denys (yes, THAT Denys) contributed to the book with pictures, so chances are high he also talked to Shuster. If you ever wondered if the asshole would ever get over the fact that he fucked up and Ze kicked his ass out of the group - well, the answer is no. He now just tries to cash in on Ze. And since we are talking about Denys' obvious contribution to the book - he, once again, gave out private photos. How much we all wanna bet that he, once again, didn't ask for consent?!

Shuster also tries to paint Ze's family in a bad light. The father a tyrann who sacrified his wife's (Mama Ze) health for his job and money. Also rarely being at home and giving a fuck about his son and family. Mama Ze spoiling her child and making him entitled. Both to unloving and hard and more or less making Ze's life a living hell. Also that Ze's family was suddenly rich. Not to mention indirectly questioning the trauma his family had to go through (and Ze talked about in the past) under Stalin and the Nazis and family members that are suddenly alive (despite Ze stating in the past that they were dead). Also, Shuster sees in the childhood and family of Ze a part of the explanation why Ze is such a horrible person today, to stubborn to just give up and end the fight (and all that nonsense) and won't win this war. Because the parents put Ze in all kind of activities without him finishing any of it but letting him believe he can do everything and always demanding excellent perfomance in every aspect of his life (to keep it short). So of cooourse Ze had to grow up into a maniac who can't loose and always continues despite what people may tell him and who needs the constant validation and love from others.

There are also a ton of negative remarks about Ze as father and husband in regard of his own family. Not to mentiont hat a ton of informations are factually not correct. Things like birth dates or dates in general, how and where Ze's family lived (missing important context several times), Ze basically being as awful as his father, Ze not giving a fuck about his families safety during the war (Olena was the voice of reason who protects the poor, poor children because their father just wants them back for egoistic reasons and doesn't care about their safety) or not seeing anything concerning about his sons military obsession and instead fueling it (again, it's the poor poor wife who has to protect the son from the awful father), Ze giving zero fucks about his relationship with Olena right from the start and that poor, poor, poor woman always staying behind and having to go through hell and hate because of Ze's maniac ambitions and facing an unsave future in the early 2000s because Ze was so full of himself and had the biggest ego,... . (reading several parts you would think that this "poor, poor woman" is trapped in some abuse situation or Ze somehow tied her to himself and the whole marriage is fake and there is no love) (also Olena simultaniously romantizing things and her life and Ukraine but also being the only who who sees the truth about Ze or several parts of their lives but, of course, can't tell her terrible husband because bad, bad Ze) Also Shuster indirectly claiming that Ze and Olena lied about their relationship and they didn't date for eight years but for a shorter period of time. Because suddenly Olena also was a part of KVN long before Ze (???) and was essentially just his work buddy and friend for a while and somehow and for whatever reason they ended up in a relationship one day. (Also prepare yourself to read about a new version of the "Basic Instinct" story we never have heard before...and Ze and Olena never said.)

Btw, the way Ze is portrayed during his KVN years is essentially with little variation how he's portrayed in later stages of his life. Including his presidency and the war (I'm not going to write several more paragraphes because I think you get the picture Shuster tries to paint of Ze).

Only one thing about Ze's war portrayal: Shuster swings back and forth between Ze as wanna be dictator who will turn Ukraine into something bad as soon as the war is over (and is already starting with that) and who already makes his own rules and gives zero fucks about people and is only interested in his own fame and people applauding him and all that stuff. And Ze being the worst President ever because the war and the current state of Ukraine (which is, of course, very bad and they are about to collapse and loose and big Russia and winning and blablabla) are somehow also his fault. Yes, Shuster really manages to make Ze (and with that Ukraine) partly guilty.

Throughout the whole book he also, sometimes more obvious sometimes hidden, Shuster portrays Ukraine in the worst way possible. He does mention how "bad" Russia is but somehow justifying it several times or leaving out important facts and, once again, context. Also the portrayal of Putin, especially in comparsion with how he writes about Ze, is a joke.

Oh, and, the "inside look in the bunker" life Shuster used for his marketing campaign and that the claim of the book - yeah, bullshit. It's nothing now and anon and all that stuff. Also, once again, portraying Ze in a bad light. Like, yeah, the first weeks of war affected him but to such a worrying point (according to Shuster) that Ze was actually unfit to rule any longer as President but continued (because, you know, he loves power sooo much...). And now he's the mini dictator of Bankova who is always grumpy and changed into a (an even more) awful person and... .

What can I say at the end?! As mentioned earlier, the book has a ton of fake news and wrong facts. It's incredibly poorly researched - if sources exist at all. A lot of times it's Shuster just sharing his feelings or thougths or conclusions or interpretations or whatever. Or just saying things without context. Or writing stuff without giving sources. And to be honest, in some parts it also feels like that Shuster just made stuff up.

If you have no idea about Ze and his life or know very little - that's not the book to get informed. If you know a bit more about Ze, you will surprisingly often feel that certain parts of "exclusive interviews" or "when I talked with XYZ" are strangely familiar...with interviews we all know from Ze's (and several other people) past...because it is these interviews. Just a lot of times missing context, shortening what was said, adding stuff or giving it a new meaning.

Speaking of using old stuff: Shuster also really used his old articles to include them in the book...to a point where it's basically almost word for word.

Overall, the book is in large parts poorly written (so poorly that you wonder how he became a TIME journalist in the first place).

In the end, you probably haven't learned anything new or interesting about Ze, his life, the war or Ukraine. When we talk about Ze, I may have read one, maybe two new things I haven't read before (but questioning both of them and will do research if they are true or just made up by Shuster). It's over 300 sites of wasted paper and ink. I know articles who did a better job than this "book". It's a waste of time and money. And in the end it's a Pro-Russia Propaganda book, trying to undermine the support for Ukraine and hurt Ze and his image (as well as Ukraine's). Shuster tries to be subtle at his try to do this but he isn't not. He tries to come off as critical thinker who wants to portray a balanced picture of Ze and also writes about the sides no one dares to talk about. But nothing about this is balanced. It's just 300+ sites of trashing Ze and backstabbing him and using every possible way. Same applies to Ukraine.

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