#he did not make the best decisions in his life

[strangersteddierthings]

Made With Love

It takes one bite for Eddie to suspect he's done something wrong. A second bite confirms it. He's fucked up somehow and cannot for the life of him remember what it was.

Did he miss an important date of some sort? It couldn't have been their anniversary because that's August 13th (Eddie's new favorite day of the year, for obvious reasons). He absolutely didn't miss Steve's birthday. Not with how long he and Robin had spent planning the damn thing. (Eddie is never throwing another surprise party in his life; the stress of secret keeping was too much to bear.)

... Did he miss Robin's birthday?

No. That can't be. Steve would never let him miss that.

It could be one of the Party's birthdays, but Eddie doesn't think that's a transgression that would warrant this.

This, of course, being his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"What, your peanut butter's gone bad?"

Eddie lifts his eyes from the proof of Steve's anger at him to his coworker, Charlie, sitting across the table from him in the closet that Thatcher claims is the break room. "No. It's much worse than that, I'm afraid."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Charlie deadpans.

"This sandwich wasn't made with love," Eddie whines, looking back at the sandwich with as much sorrow as he can muster. He sets the sandwich down on the baggy he had pulled it out of so that he can frown down at it without having to touch the offending creation.

"Ah shit," Charlie says, voice filled with empathy. This is why he's Eddie's favorite coworker. He gets it. Possibly because he's the only person who's tasted the difference for himself, back when Eddie'd just started at Thatcher Tires. "What'd'ya do?"

"I don't know!" Eddie wails. "Everything was fine when I left this morning, or I thought it was anyway."

"Ain't your misses pretty good at lettin' you know you done fucked up?" Charlie, like the best coworker that he is, looks surprised that Eddie doesn't know what he's done. He's right, too. Steve is the goddamn king of petty, and Eddie has never struggled to know when Steve's mad at him. The struggle usually comes from Eddie refusing to be in the wrong.

(That's not to say that Eddie is always in the wrong. He's not. Sure, a good percent of their arguments Eddie is the one at fault and he's mature enough to admit so once the argument is over, but it's not always his fault.)

Anyway, the point is, regardless of who's at fault, Steve is angry at him about something and for the first time in months Eddie doesn't know what for. They'd promised each other, after their first very big fight that almost ended in a breakup and was over a misunderstanding, that they would tell each other why they're mad or upset or feeling some type of way. So for Eddie to not know...

He thinks he might have fucked up big time.

"I know!" Eddie cries, shoving the sandwich away from him to make room to drop his forehead onto the table, then turns to smoosh his cheek against the table so he can look at Charlie. "Charlie. Charlie what do I do?"

Charlie blows out a long breath, thinking, before he gives a decisive nod and says, "you gotta beg forgiveness."

Eddie knows Charlie's right. He doesn't know what he did but he's going to beg forgiveness anyway.

Which is how he now finds himself in the small floral section of the grocery store looking over the sad, wilted bouquets after work. His arms are already full with Steve's favorite ice cream, candies, an over-priced little blue teddy bear that's holding an 'It's A Boy!' card that Eddie plans to rip off, and a blank card with a painting of sunflowers on it that he plans to wax poetry about Steve inside.

The final part of his groveling is, of course, the flowers. It's the wrong season for sunflowers, so Eddie was going to settle for roses. It's just that these roses are all sad looking. They don't really scream 'I Love You More Than Anything Else In The World, Please Forgive Me For What I've Done' though.

Let it never be said that Eddie doesn't know how to beg forgiveness.

He ends up picking the least wilted looking bouquet, one with white and yellow flowers he can't name.

The cashier is an older lady who takes quick catalogue of his items and asks, "is it your anniversary, darling? Or, oh!" She picks up the blue bear and Eddie feels his ear heating with embarrassment as she coos, "are you expecting? How exciting!"

"Err, no, not, uh, no. It's just blue is hi-her favorite color, so I was planning to just cut off the little card," Eddie stutters out the lie. Blue isn't Steve's favorite color but Eddie's used to making up many little lies when talking to strangers. Being hate-crimed is not a passion of Eddie's. "I, uh, messed up. And I don't know what I did, but I'm going to make it right."

The lady smiles at him and gives him a firm nod as she scans the items. "Smart boy. I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Eddie gives her a smile he hopes isn't as tight-lipped as it feels on his face.

Back in the safety of his van, Eddie roots around until he finds a pen and gets to writing all the things he loves about Steve in the card and all the things he hopes they'll get to have in the future. Nothing they haven't spoken about before, but it still makes Eddie a little emotional writing it all down.

Once he's done writing, he pulls his pocket knife out and cuts off the 'It's A Boy' card from the bear, crumpling it up and tossing it in the back of the van to be forgotten. He shoves the sunflower card in it's place. His card is a bit wider than the previous one here so it stays in place, albeit precariously. He'll be careful handing it over to Steve.

He knows that Steve is at home already. Steve's always home first because he's off work at four compared to Eddie getting off work around five.

Well. Closer to five-thirty today with his stop at the grocery store. He really hopes that whatever has Steve mad at him isn't time related. Being late home without calling might earn him no favors if it's a time-based blunder.

Steve is in the kitchen, back to the door since he's facing the stove, as Eddie expected he might be. Which means that Eddie doesn't get to lay out all his Items of Forgiveness across the counter like he had hoped but that's okay. If the love of his life has chosen to forgive him, he knows Steve will be just as overjoyed to rifling through a bag of goodies as he would to pick them off the counter.

"Hi sweetheart," Eddie says, words oozing with adoration and sweetness.

"Hi baby," Steve's tone matches Eddie's, like an instinct to match Eddie's energy has written itself into Steve's DNA. And it might have. Eddie knows the reverse is true.

Steve turns from the stove, then, and his face lights up with delight and surprise. "What's all this?"

"Your favorite things, because I love you," Eddie says, raising his arms a bit. The grocery bag is looped over his wrist with flowers in one hand and the bear in the other.

Steve looks positively smitten.

Eddie is nailing this apology that isn't an apology. And let it be known; he cannot say he's sorry. It'll ruin everything. Because Steve, his wonderful, beautiful, kind and loving Stevie, will cock one perfect little caterpillar eyebrow and ask if Eddie knows what he's apologizing for, and Eddie will have to say he doesn't know and that isn't something he's willing to do. Especially not when it's looking like whatever Steve was mad about has completely slipped Steve's mind, too.

"I got your favorite ice cream, too, so we might want to get that into the freezer," Eddie says, passing the bear and card to Steve and shimmying around him to get to the freezer.

He lays the flowers on the counter and sets to emptying the bag. Ice cream in the freezer and goodies on the counter, while Steve reads the card silently behind him.

He knows he's successfully made up for whatever it was he had done, because Steve crowds him against the fridge shortly after setting the card down and turning the stove burner off, kissing him breathless.

Eddie even gets desert before dinner, with Steve all but dragging him to their bedroom.

-

The reddit post that inspired this -

[elikajinnie]

The Frequency Of A Killer - S.J

P: Killer!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suspense, Teasing, Murder, Attempted Murder, Stalking, Mind Games, Obsessive Behaviour kinda?

Wordcount: + 20k words

Synopsis: After moving to a small town as a horror talk show host, you uncover a deadly cover-up tied to a masked killer. As the bodies pile up, the killer becomes fixated on you. Can you unravel the truth?

a/n: her we go! another killer au but this time its not Heeseung or Ni-ki! We got Jake :) so this is inspired by my fave horror game; killer frequency - 1000% recommend.

---

You were used to the rush, the buzz, and the endless opportunities of the big city. The noise didn’t bother you. Networking came naturally, jobs were abundant, and you’d found your niche in the chaos: hosting a podcast about horror and true crime in a way that set your listeners on edge while keeping them hooked. Your show had skyrocketed to fame, and you’d connected with an entire community of enthusiasts who lived for the thrill, just like you. Life was good. Stable. Yours.

Until your company decided you weren’t “it” anymore.

The justification was laughable—“gender diversity,” they’d said. They wanted to swap you out for some guy, as if trading a seasoned, beloved host for an inexperienced one would make everything magically better. You weren’t buying it, but their minds were made up. No amount of protest or proof of your success could change their decision. And so, you left, refusing to stick around and watch them hand your hard work over to someone who didn’t earn it.

That’s how you found yourself in this small, sleepy town, working for a much smaller company that was trying its hand at podcasts. They hired you on the spot, practically drooling over your experience, and offered you a spot as the host of their horror and true crime segment. It was meant to be a temporary gig, a placeholder until—surely—your old company would come crawling back, begging for you to return.

But a month had passed. One whole, quiet month, and they hadn’t reached out. Not even a courtesy email.

At least this place wasn’t half bad. You had your own little booth, tucked away in the back of the building, with soundproof walls and just enough space to feel like your own world. The show was entirely yours to run—aside from the occasional ad spot they made you slip in—and you had free rein to do what you did best. Even the people weren’t bad.

Especially Beomgyu.

Beomgyu was technically your producer, though most of his job seemed to involve screening calls and chatting with you during breaks. He sat in the booth just across from yours, separated by a thin pane of glass, and had this habit of pulling faces at you whenever you got too serious. At first, you thought he was annoying—this twenty-something with a mop of messy hair and a perpetual smirk—but over time, he’d grown on you.

Tonight was no different. You leaned back in your chair, headphones snug over your ears as you wrapped up the last caller. A woman with a trembling voice had called in to share a local ghost story about the old mill at the edge of town, and you’d expertly guided her through the tale, adding just the right amount of suspense and curiosity to keep your listeners hooked.

When the call ended, you glanced over at Beomgyu through the glass. He was grinning, spinning lazily in his chair, and holding up a piece of paper with “9/10” scrawled on it in bold, black ink.

You rolled your eyes and flicked him off with a smirk. He just laughed, pointing to the mic to remind you you were still live.

“Alright,” you said smoothly, turning back to the soundboard. “That’s all the time we have for tonight. Thanks for tuning in, and as always—lock your doors, check under your bed, and don’t trust the shadows.”

The outro music played, and you switched off your mic with a satisfied sigh.

“Not bad,” Beomgyu teased as you stood up, stretching your arms. “But you totally rushed the ending on that last one. Where was the suspense?”

“Where was the suspense?” you echoed mockingly, grabbing a cup of coffee off the table and taking a sip. “How about I’m the professional, and you’re just the guy who answers phones?”

Beomgyu snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. One day, I’m gonna take over your job and show you how it’s really done.”

“Please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’d last five minutes before you started talking about aliens or some weird conspiracy theory.”

He grinned. “You know me so well.”

--

The night started off normal enough. You sat at the small desk in the break area, sipping on a lukewarm coffee Beomgyu had somehow convinced you to grab for him before realizing you needed one for yourself too. He lounged across from you, feet propped up on the edge of the table like he owned the place, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“So,” he started casually, tilting his head with that usual lopsided grin of his, “what’s it like being a big-shot city person stuck in our little backwater town?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “First of all, you act like I came here voluntarily. Second, backwater’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I call it like I see it. You’ve been here a month and you still can’t hide the ‘get me out of here’ look on your face.”

“Maybe because I’m waiting for my old company to realize they made the worst mistake of their lives.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And when they don’t? What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “There’s no Plan B, because Plan A is going to work. They’ll come crawling back. Trust me.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a doubtful look. “Sure, sure. But admit it—this place isn’t so bad. It’s quiet, no traffic, and the rent is dirt cheap. I bet your apartment here is, like, three times bigger than whatever shoebox you had back in the city.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “The cost of living here is nice. And I don’t hate the peace and quiet. But the thing about big cities? There’s always something happening. People, events, opportunities. It’s like… the energy keeps you alive, you know?”

Beomgyu chuckled, twirling the pen like he was in some kind of drumline. “Sounds exhausting. You city people thrive on chaos. Meanwhile, out here, we’ve got… cows. And maybe a parade if you’re lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that bad here. I just… I’m not used to it yet.”

“Give it time,” he said, leaning forward like he was about to share a secret. “Pretty soon, you’ll be one of us. Walking slow, waving at strangers, knowing everyone’s business…”

You grimaced. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

Beomgyu laughed so hard he nearly knocked over his coffee. He was still grinning when he asked, “So what was it like, though? Your old job, I mean. The fancy podcast thing.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You could still remember it clearly—the studio, the buzz of the city outside, the adrenaline rush of knowing your audience was hanging on to your every word.

“It was…” you began, searching for the right word. “It was everything I wanted, for a while. I worked my way up, you know? Started small, built an audience, found my voice. It was a grind, but it was worth it.”

Beomgyu nodded, his expression more serious now. “So what went wrong?”

You sighed, tracing your finger along the rim of your cup. “They wanted to ‘freshen things up.’ Change the direction of the show. Apparently, a guy hosting would bring in a ‘different perspective.’”

“That’s bullshit,” Beomgyu said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, well, tell that to them.” You shrugged, masking the sting with a bitter smile. “They thought it was a good idea. I didn’t.”

“Idiots,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this than some random guy.”

“Thanks,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I’ll remind them of that when they come groveling.”

Then the clock on the wall chimed, reminding you it was time to start the show.

“Alright, back to work,” you said, standing up and stretching. “Don’t let me catch you slacking, Beomgyu.”

“Me? Slack? Never,” he replied, mock-offended as he followed you toward the booth.

The show started as usual—smooth, easy, familiar. The first few callers were locals sharing urban legends, strange encounters, and the occasional eerie coincidence. Beomgyu stayed in his booth across from you, laughing silently at your quips and holding up cards with goofy doodles to make you break character mid-recording.

But then, midway through the second hour, a call came through that made your stomach drop.

Beomgyu patched it through with his usual nonchalance, giving you a thumbs-up from the other side of the glass. “Line three,” he mouthed.

“Hello,” you said into the mic, your voice steady despite the sudden shift in the air. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

There was a long pause. Too long. Static crackled faintly on the other end.

Then, a voice you didn’t recognize—low, and far too calm—spoke.

“Do you ever wonder if someone’s watching you right now?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You forced a laugh, playing it off for your listeners. “Well, I guess I should hope so—otherwise, what’s the point of doing a live show?”

The voice didn’t laugh. “No,” it said. “I mean really watching you. Right now.”

Goosebumps rose on your arms. You glanced toward Beomgyu, who raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure where this was going.

“I think that’s a little too vague to count as a story,” you said, keeping your tone light. “Care to elaborate?”

The line went silent for a moment, then the voice spoke again, quieter this time.

“Check your window.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned instinctively to the window beside your booth. It was dark outside, the glass reflecting nothing but the dim glow of your equipment.

Nothing was there.

But the voice on the other end of the line chuckled softly, sending a chill down your spine.

“Gotcha,” it said, before the call abruptly disconnected.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones, pulling you out of the eerie fog left by the last caller.

“That was… weird,” he said, leaning closer to his mic in the booth across from you. You could see his reflection in the glass, brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean, what window? We’re on the second floor. Unless there’s some really tall guy with a ladder out there, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

A nervous laugh escaped you as you reached for your cup of water, trying to shake off the chill creeping up your spine. “Right? Probably some wannabe prank caller. People love to act spooky when they know they’re live.”

“Yeah, but that voice?” Beomgyu leaned back, tapping his fingers against his desk. “It didn’t sound like someone joking. It sounded… I don’t know. Off.”

“Let’s not overthink it,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the unease settling in your chest. “Weird calls are part of the job, right? It’s probably nothing.”

Beomgyu nodded slowly, but his usual playful grin didn’t return. His eyes flickered to the window behind you, then back to his desk as if trying to distract himself.

Before either of you could dwell on it further, the phone lit up again. Another call.

“Line two,” Beomgyu said, pressing the button to patch it through.

You straightened in your seat, slipping your headphones back on. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

This time, the voice on the other end was hurried, shaky, and unmistakably real.

“This is Officer Park from the Greenfield Police Department,” a woman said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I—God, I don’t even know who else to call right now. I just got back to the station—was out getting donuts for the night shift—and when I walked in, I found…”

She stopped, her voice catching on a sob. Your stomach twisted.

“You found what?” you asked gently, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Beomgyu through the glass.

“Two of the officers—two of my coworkers,” the woman stammered. “They’ve been stabbed. One of them… one of them’s already gone. The other one is still alive, barely. I called for backup, but closest units are at least five hours away, and I don’t know what to do.”

Beomgyu’s jaw dropped as he mouthed, Is this for real?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your desk. “Okay, Officer Park, take a deep breath,” you said, your tone steady even though your heart was racing. “Are you somewhere safe right now?”

“Yes,” she said, her breath hitching. “I locked myself in the back office. But whoever did this—they could still be here. I didn’t see anyone when I came in, but… Oh, God, what if they’re still inside?”

You leaned closer to your mic, your voice low but firm. “Okay, listen to me. First, you did the right thing by calling for backup. Stay where you are, keep the door locked, and don’t make any noise. Do you have your weapon on you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly.

“Good,” you said. “And the officer who’s still alive—do you know if they’re in immediate danger? Can you hear or see them from where you are?”

“They’re out in the main lobby,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I can hear them—barely. They’re trying to say something, but I can’t make it out. I think they’re losing consciousness.”

Your pulse quickened as you considered the situation. This wasn’t just some urban legend or creepy caller—this was real, and someone’s life was on the line.

“Okay, Officer Park, here’s what we’re going to do,” you said, keeping your tone as calm as possible. “Do you have anything with you—first aid supplies, even a jacket—anything you can use to stabilize them if you go out there?”

“There’s a med kit in the office,” she said.

“Good. Grab it. But listen—only go out there if you’re sure it’s safe. Move quickly, quietly, and keep your weapon ready. Check the corners, and don’t let your guard down. If you hear or see anything suspicious, you come right back to the office and lock the door. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause. Then she whispered, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Stay on the line with us,” you said, glancing at Beomgyu, who was already typing furiously on his laptop, probably trying to look up news reports or police scanner updates. “We’re not going anywhere.”

You could hear her moving, her breathing shaky but determined as she whispered, “I’m opening the door.”

Your own breath hitched as you listened to the faint creak of a door opening on her end.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said softly. “I’m stepping out now.”

The seconds dragged on like hours as you listened to her footsteps, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing in the background.

“I see him,” she whispered. “He’s—oh, God, he’s bleeding so much. I’m going to try to stop it.”

You could hear her fumbling with the med kit, her voice barely audible as she muttered, “Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. Help is on the way.”

Your pulse pounded as Officer Park’s frantic movements came through the line. You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, trying to calm both her and yourself.

"Officer Park," you said firmly, leaning closer to the mic. "Listen to me. You need to arm yourself before doing anything else. Do you have access to any weapons right now?"

She hesitated for a moment, her breathing quick. "There’s a weapons locker in the office, but the keys are… they’re on one of the officers."

“Okay. You need to get those keys from the officer who…” You paused, forcing yourself to stay calm. “The officer who’s gone. You’ll need them if you’re going to get out of there alive. And when backup arrives, they’ll need you armed.”

“I already told you,” she whispered sharply. “Backup isn’t coming anytime soon. This is a small town. The nearest station is in the next county over—at least five hours away.”

The weight of her words settled like a stone in your chest. “Then you need to leave now,” you said. “You’ll have to meet them halfway, but you can’t just stay there. Take the surviving officer and get out of the station. Use the police cruiser. Are the keys to the car with the officers too?”

“Probably,” she said, voice shaking.

“Then get them,” you urged. “Check the pockets of the officer who…” You hesitated again, but there wasn’t time for gentleness. “Who’s already gone.”

There was a long pause, followed by a shaky exhale. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear her moving again, her footsteps echoing faintly. Then, muffled rustling as she moved the officer’s body.

“I’ve got them,” she said after a moment, her voice tight. “The car keys. And…” She paused, the sound of a locker creaking open coming through the line. “Weapons. I’ve got pepper spray, a taser, and a baton. Which one should I take?”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who shrugged helplessly. “The taser,” you said decisively. “It’s your best option for close combat if the killer comes back. You’ll still have the element of surprise.”

“Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’m taking the taser. And the med kit. I’m going to try to move Officer Kim to the car.”

“Be careful,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “Check your surroundings constantly. Keep the taser in your hand. And whatever you do, stay quiet.”

You listened in tense silence as she dragged the injured officer toward the car, her breaths labored but determined. The sound of a car door opening reached your ears, followed by the faint groans of the wounded officer being carefully placed in the back seat.

“I’ve got him in the car,” Officer Park said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m about to start it.”

“Good,” you said. “Start it quietly and get out of there as fast as you can.”

But just as the engine sputtered to life, a haunting whistle cut through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. It was distant but unmistakable—low and drawn out, carrying an almost mocking tone.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, panic creeping back into her voice. “They’re here. The killer’s here.”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. “Stay calm,” you said. “Lock the doors. Don’t move until you know it’s safe. If they come close, use the taser.”

Through the line, you heard faint footsteps and the sound of shouts—angry, guttural, and close. Then a scuffle broke out.

“They’re trying to break into the car!” Officer Park shouted, her voice shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Use the taser!” you yelled. “Now!”

There was a loud crackling sound, followed by a strangled scream.

“It worked!” she cried out, her voice bursting with relief. “The taser worked! They’re down!”

A second later, the engine roared to life, and the sound of the car speeding away filled the line.

“Are you okay?” you asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “We’re leaving. I’m heading to the next town over to meet the backup units. It’s about five hours from here—less if I push it.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling slowly. “Just stay safe and focus on the road.”

“One more thing,” she added, her tone suddenly serious. “The emergency police line—it’s been rerouted to you. I couldn’t risk leaving the station unattended, so if anyone in town calls for help, it’ll go to your line instead.”

You froze, glancing at Beomgyu, who stared back at you with wide eyes.

“Wait,” you said, your stomach sinking. “What are we supposed to do if the killer targets someone else?”

“You’re going to have to help them,” she said grimly. “Until we can get backup to the town, you’re the only ones who can.”

The line went dead, leaving you and Beomgyu sitting in stunned silence, the weight of her words settling over you like a storm cloud.

“Uh… what the hell just happened?” Beomgyu finally said, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t answer, your mind racing as you stared at the blinking lights on the phone.

Somewhere out there, the killer was still on the loose. And now, the entire town was counting on you.

After a while the familiar ring of the phone jolted you from your thoughts, the sudden sound piercing the tense silence that had settled in the booth. Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones.

“Line three,” he said.

You nodded to Beomgyu, signaling for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, adjusting your mic.

“I—oh, no, no, I think I called the wrong number,” a woman stammered, her voice trembling. “I was trying to call the police. There’s—there’s someone after me.”

Your heart sank as you exchanged a quick glance with Beomgyu through the glass. “You didn’t call the wrong number,” you explained quickly. “The emergency line is being rerouted to us temporarily. But you’re not alone—we’re here to help. Just tell us where you are and what’s happening.”

The woman hesitated for a moment, her breath audible over the line. “I just left the gym. I’m trying to get to my car, but there’s this… man. He’s following me. He has a knife, I’m sure of it.”

A faint whistle echoed in the background of the call, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The woman gasped, her voice rising in panic.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I should’ve stayed home. Why didn’t I stay home?”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. “Listen to me,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “Don’t stop. Keep moving toward your car. You can do this.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you’re doing great. Just keep going. Focus on your breathing and keep moving. We’re not going anywhere—we’ve got you.”

The sound of her hurried footsteps came through the line, along with her ragged breathing.

“I see my car,” she said, relief creeping into her voice. “I’m almost there.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Good. Get in and lock the doors immediately. Don’t worry about starting it until you’re inside and safe.”

A moment later, there was the faint sound of a car door opening and slamming shut.

“I made it,” she said, exhaling shakily. “I’m in.”

“Great job,” you said, feeling a small surge of relief. “Now start the car and drive somewhere safe—”

“Oh, no,” she interrupted, her voice rising in panic again. “No, no, no! I—I forgot my keys. They’re still in the gym!”

Your stomach dropped.

Beomgyu’s voice came through your headphones before you could respond. “Wait,” he said, leaning closer to his mic. “One guy—one who works here. I’ve seen him reading magazines about car maintenance in the breakroom. He might’ve had something about starting a car without keys.”

You blinked at him, hope flickering. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Beomgyu said. “I saw him reading one earlier this week.”

You muted the line to the woman briefly, turning back to Beomgyu. “Where did he leave it?”

“Probably in his office,” Beomgyu said with a shrug. “You’ll have to look for it.”

With a deep breath, you stood up. “Keep her talking. Keep her calm until I get back,” you said, pulling off your headphones.

Beomgyu gave you a thumbs up as you left the booth, closing the door behind you.

You made your way toward the offices, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. The darkened corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, but you finally reached the office. The door creaked as you pushed it open.

The room was cluttered, papers and other stuff scattered across the desks. You rifled through the mess, searching for the magazine Beomgyu had mentioned, but it was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, you were about to give up when a folded piece of paper caught your eye on the desk. Curious, you unfolded it.

Borrowed the car magazine for some light reading. Left it in the bathroom. -J

You frowned, squinting at the note. The bathroom? Of course.

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the men’s bathroom, the unease in your chest growing with each step. Standing outside the door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.

The air inside was still, the lights flickering slightly. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on the floor of one of the stalls. Sure enough, there it was—a magazine, its glossy cover faintly reflecting the dim light.

Bracing yourself, you stepped into the stall and grabbed it. Clutching the magazine, you made your way back to the booth as quickly as possible, the tension in your chest finally easing as the familiar glow of the studio came into view.

Sliding back into your seat, you slipped on your headphones. “Got it,” you said, flipping through the pages.

“About time,” Beomgyu muttered, relief in his voice. “She’s still in the car. Freaking out, but holding it together.”

“Alright,” you said, scanning the pages for anything useful. “Let’s get her out of there.”

You flipped quickly through the magazine, scanning each page for something useful. Beomgyu, still connected to the call, was murmuring reassurances to the woman, keeping her calm as best as he could. Finally, near the back of the magazine, you spotted a section titled: “How to Start a Car Without Keys—In Emergencies Only!”

Bingo.

You unmuted the call, speaking quickly. “Okay, I’ve got instructions here. It’s a little complicated, but we’re going to get you out of there. Are you ready to listen?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “Please, just tell me what to do.”

“Alright. First, do you see the steering column? You’ll need to take off the plastic cover underneath it.”

“The plastic cover?” she repeated, her voice filled with uncertainty.

“Yes. There should be a seam where it comes apart. Can you find it?”

There was a rustling sound, followed by a faint click. “I—I see it. I think I can pry it open.”

“Good. Use anything sharp—a nail file, a keychain, anything to pop it off,” you instructed.

A few tense seconds passed, the sound of fumbling and grunting filling the line.

“Got it!” she said suddenly. “It’s off.”

“Perfect. Now, you should see some wires underneath,” you continued, flipping the magazine around to get a better look at the diagram. “There will be three sets: power, ignition, and ground. Look for the ones connected to the ignition—they’re usually red and yellow. Do you see them?”

“Wait… yes, yes, I see them!” she said, her breathing slightly more controlled now.

“Okay, here’s the tricky part,” you said carefully. “You need to strip the ends of the ignition wires—just the plastic coating—so the metal is exposed. Do you have anything sharp, like a knife or scissors?”

“Uh… I have a nail file,” she said after a moment.

“That works. Carefully scrape the plastic off, but don’t cut the wires. Just expose the metal underneath. Take your time.”

The sound of her scraping at the wires filled the silence, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Beomgyu, who gave you a reassuring nod.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ve got the wires stripped. What now?”

“Good. Now you’re going to twist the exposed ends of the ignition wires together. That should create a spark to start the car. But be ready—the second it starts, drive away. Don’t wait around.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m doing it now.”

There was a faint crackling sound, followed by a sputtering noise. Then, suddenly, the low rumble of an engine filled the line.

“It worked!” she cried, her voice breaking with relief. “It actually worked!”

“Great job!” you said, unable to stop the smile forming on your face. “Now get out of there. Drive somewhere safe—somewhere well-lit with other people around. Don’t stop until you’re absolutely sure you’re safe.”

You could hear the roar of the car accelerating, the relief in her voice evident as she spoke. “I’m driving now. Oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, your own voice shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “Just focus on the road. Call us back if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay. I will,” she said. “Thank you again. I—I think I might’ve been dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Just keep driving,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters now.”

The line clicked off, leaving you and Beomgyu alone in the booth. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, tossing the magazine onto the desk. “But if it hadn’t… I don’t even want to think about it.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “So… what do we do if someone else calls?”

You didn’t have an answer, your thoughts already spiraling with what-ifs. All you could do was hope the rest of the night stayed quiet.

The phone rang again, its shrill tone cutting through the uneasy silence that had settled in the booth. You adjusted your mic and nodded to Beomgyu. He patched it through with a flick of a switch, signaling with his finger for you to go ahead.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tension from the last call.

“Hey, yeah, uh, is this the emergency line?” a cheery voice on the other end asked.

“Yes, this is the emergency line. What’s your situation?” you asked, leaning forward, bracing yourself for whatever this might be.

“Well,” the man began, his tone casual, “I just wanted to let everyone know that Hanseung’s Pizza is open late tonight, and we’re offering a two-for-one deal on our large pepperoni pies!”

You froze, your hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Are you serious right now?”

“Totally serious! Best pizza in town!”

You groaned audibly and disconnected the call before the man could say another word. Leaning back in your chair, you rubbed your temples as Beomgyu snorted with laughter.

When you glanced at him through the glass, he made a circular gesture next to his temple, miming crazy.

“I swear,” you muttered, pulling your headphones off briefly, “this night is going to kill me.”

Beomgyu gave you a lopsided grin, but before he could say anything, the phone rang again.

“Here we go,” he said, flipping the switch to route the call to you.

You sighed, sliding your headphones back on. “You’re on the air,” you said cautiously.

“H-hello?” a man’s voice came through, low and shaky.

“This is the emergency line,” you said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I—I’m still at work,” the man said, his words trembling as he spoke. “I stayed late to finish up inventory, and I… I saw someone on the cameras. He’s outside. He’s wearing a white mask, and he’s holding a knife. He’s on the first floor now.”

Your heart sank as a chill ran down your spine. “Okay, stay calm,” you said quickly. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m on the second floor,” he said. “In the main office. But… but there’s nowhere to hide. The only room I can lock is the storage closet, and the lock is on the outside. What do I do?”

You frowned, running a hand through your hair as you exchanged a tense glance with Beomgyu. “Alright, listen to me. We’re going to figure this out. Let’s think through this carefully.”

“I don’t have much time,” the man whispered, panic rising in his voice. “He’s coming in. I can see him on the camera feed.”

You flipped through options in your mind, trying to think of anything that could give him a chance. The storage room could work, but locking it from the outside meant he’d be trapping himself unless…

“Wait,” you said suddenly. “Does your office phone system let you call internal lines? Like phones in other rooms?”

“Yes,” the man said quickly. “I can call any phone in the building from here.”

“Perfect,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to distract him. You’re going to call one of the phones on the first floor, and when it rings, he’ll go to investigate. Once he’s distracted, you’re going to quietly make your way down the back staircase and get out of the building. Got it?”

“Okay, okay,” the man said, his breathing quick and shallow. “I can do that. I think.”

“You can do this,” you said firmly. “Now, do you know which phone to call?”

“Yes,” he said. “The one by the front desk. It’s closest to where he is.”

“Good. Call it now,” you instructed. “Once it starts ringing, wait a few seconds to make sure he’s moving toward it. Then make your way out. Go as quietly as you can. Don’t hang up until you’re outside and safe, alright?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

There was a pause as you heard him pressing buttons on the phone. A few seconds later, the faint sound of a phone ringing echoed faintly through his line.

“He’s moving,” the man whispered. “I can see him on the camera. He’s going to the front desk.”

“Perfect,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “Now’s your chance. Go.”

The sound of his shaky breathing filled the line as he moved. You held your breath, listening intently as he made his way down the stairs.

“He’s still at the desk,” the man whispered. “I’m almost at the back door.”

“Keep going,” you urged. “You’re doing great.”

A faint creak came through the line, followed by a quiet click.

“I’m outside,” the man said, his voice trembling with relief. “I’m out.”

You exhaled, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. “Good. Get as far away from the building as you can. Get somewhere safe with other people around.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Thank you so much.”

“Just stay safe,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters.”

The line disconnected, leaving you staring at the phone for a moment, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “That’s two lives saved tonight,” he said. “Not bad for a couple of radio hosts, huh?”

You gave him a shaky smile, but the thought lingering in your mind was anything but reassuring.

Whoever was out there wasn’t done yet.

The phone rang again. For a moment, you and Beomgyu exchanged wary glances through the glass between your booths. After everything tonight, you’d learned to expect the worst. With a deep breath, you answered.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

“Bravo,” a smooth, amused voice purred on the other end. “Really. I’m impressed.”

Your brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’ve been handling these calls tonight,” the man continued, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “Guiding these poor, helpless souls to safety. It’s been a pleasure to listen to. You’re very clever, you know that?”

Something about his voice set you on edge—it wasn’t rushed or panicked like the others you’d spoken to tonight. It was calm. Too calm.

“Who is this?” you asked, your voice tightening.

“Let’s just say I’m… someone who’s been keeping an eye on things,” he replied, his tone playful. “And I have to admit, you’ve made my night much more entertaining than I anticipated.”

Your stomach twisted as realization hit you like a punch to the gut. “It’s you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low chuckle came through the line, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Yes, it’s me. The one you’ve been so desperately trying to outsmart all night. And I have to say, you’ve done quite well.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. “Why are you calling?”

“To see you squirm,” he teased. “And to thank you, of course. You’ve made this little game so much more fun than I thought it would be. Honestly, you’re much more entertaining than the usual people around here. They’re so… predictable.”

You refused to let him get under your skin, even as his voice sent an unbidden flush to your cheeks. You hated the way his words made your pulse quicken, a reaction you absolutely didn’t want to have.

“Is that all this is to you? A game?” you snapped, trying to focus on your anger rather than the unsettling heat rising in your face.

“Of course it’s a game,” he said smoothly. “But don’t misunderstand me—I’m not underestimating you. In fact, I think you’re the most interesting piece on the board. I wonder… how long can you keep this up? How long before I catch you slipping?”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly forced yourself to focus. You couldn’t let him distract you with his taunting, no matter how strangely… confident and alluring his voice sounded. You hadn’t thought about dating or men since moving to the town—your life had been far too busy. And now here you were, getting flustered by the very man terrorizing the town.

“Do you have anything better to do than terrorize people?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

He chuckled again, low and lazy, like you’d just amused him. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, and you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, don’t get so defensive,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, it’s refreshing. I like a bit of fire in my conversations. The others? They just scream and cry. Boring. But not you. I like that.”

Your grip on the desk tightened further, your mind racing. You couldn’t let him get to you, but the way he spoke—like he was in complete control, like he knew exactly how to unnerve you—it was maddening.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, forcing your voice to stay calm.

“For now? Just to chat,” he said casually. “I thought you deserved some recognition for your efforts. And maybe a little warning…”

Your stomach churned. “A warning?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “You’re clever, but don’t think you’re untouchable. I’ve been generous so far, letting you play the hero. But don’t get too comfortable. I’m always watching, and if you’re not careful, this little game of ours might get a whole lot more personal.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to let your fear show. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s supposed to excite you.”

The line went dead before you could respond, leaving you staring at the phone, your mind a chaotic mess of fear, anger, and, much to your dismay, something else you didn’t want to name.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headset. “Uh… what the hell just happened?”

You turned to look at him, your face still flushed. “I think the killer just… flirted with me?”

Beomgyu blinked, his mouth falling open slightly before he shook his head. “This town is actually so messed up.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

The phone rang again, piercing through the tense silence that had settled in the booth. You and Beomgyu exchanged a glance, both of you bracing yourselves for whatever might come next. You adjusted your headphones and gestured for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease crawling up your spine.

“H-he’s coming,” a woman’s voice stammered, her tone high-pitched and frantic. “Oh God, the dead—they’ve risen! The dead are rising!”

You froze, caught off guard by the sheer hysteria in her voice. “Ma’am, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s happening,” you said, keeping your tone calm and firm. “Who’s coming? What do you mean the dead are rising?”

“It’s karma,” she said, her words tumbling out in a panicked rush. “I’ve done bad things. So many bad things. And now he’s coming for me."

“Okay, I need you to slow down,” you urged, sitting forward in your chair. “Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

“I thought I was,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “But he’s here. He’s come back. They know what I’ve done. He knows—”

The line went dead.

“Hello? Ma’am?” you said quickly, checking the call screen. You tried dialing the number back, your heart pounding, but the line just rang and rang before going to voicemail.

Beomgyu leaned forward in his booth, frowning as he studied the call log. “That was Dr. Lee,” he said, his voice low.

“Dr. Lee?” you asked, your mind racing.

“She’s one of the town’s doctors,” Beomgyu explained, crossing his arms. “Well… was a doctor. She retired a couple of years ago, but she still gets called in sometimes when the clinic’s short-staffed. People around here have… mixed feelings about her. Some say she’s a great doctor, but others think she’s shady. There’ve been rumors, but nothing ever proven.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind swirling with questions. “She kept saying ‘karma.’ And something about the dead coming for her.”

Beomgyu shrugged, though his expression was uneasy. “She sounded genuinely freaked out.”

“She did,” you muttered, staring at the dead call screen on your monitor. “And she didn’t give me anything to go on. No location, no details… I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Think we should call the clinic? Maybe someone there knows what’s going on.”

You shook your head, though the idea was tempting. “If she wanted their help, she would’ve called them instead of us. I think… I think whatever’s happening, she doesn’t trust anyone in town. Or maybe she thought calling the emergency line was her only option.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Beomgyu asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “There’s not much we can do. She didn’t give us enough information to help. All we can do is wait and see if she calls back.”

Beomgyu nodded reluctantly, though his frown deepened. “Still, the whole ‘dead are rising’ thing? Sounds like someone’s cracking under pressure. Or maybe she’s just paranoid.”

“Maybe,” you said, though her words kept echoing in your mind. The dead have risen. Karma is coming for me.

It sounded ridiculous, but the sheer terror in her voice had felt real. And in this town, you’d already learned to expect the unexpected.

You leaned back in your chair, staring as a heavy silence settled over the room. You hated this helpless feeling, this sense that something was happening just out of your reach. But until she called back—or someone else did—there was nothing you could do except wait.

And worry.

The phone rang again, and you didn’t hesitate to answer this time, though the tension from the earlier calls still lingered in the air like a bad omen.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to sound calm and professional, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

“H-hello?” a young voice stammered. “Is this… is this the emergency line?”

“Yes, it is,” you replied quickly. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Hyein,” she answered, her voice trembling. “I—I need help. Someone’s after me and my friends.”

Your stomach dropped. “Where are you, Hyein? Are you somewhere safe?”

“We’re at… we’re at this old junkyard,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “We were just hanging out, but now there’s this guy—he’s wearing a white mask, and—”

“Okay, Hyein, listen to me,” you interrupted, keeping your voice steady. “You need to find somewhere safe. Is there a place you can hide? A building, a car, anything?”

“Um, there’s a shed,” she said, her voice shaky. “But—”

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted through the line, making your heart lurch.

“Hyein? Hyein, what’s happening?”

There was a muffled commotion on the other end, followed by… laughter?

A new voice chimed in, a boy’s voice, cracking as he burst into fits of giggles. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face, Hyein!”

“What the hell, Jansoon?!” Hyein shouted, her fear quickly replaced by anger. “You scared the crap out of me!”

You exhaled slowly, feeling your shoulders relax slightly. “Hyein, what’s going on?”

“It’s just Jansoon,” she said, her voice still shaking but now tinged with irritation. “He’s being an idiot, running around with a fake knife and a stupid mask. I thought—”

But before she could finish, another scream cut through the air—this one high-pitched and blood-curdling.

“Jansoon? Jansoon, stop messing around!” Hyein shouted, her voice rising in panic.

Then came the sound of something wet and grotesque—a sickening squelch, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Oh my God,” Hyein whispered, her voice trembling again. “Run! Everyone, run inside!”

“Hyein! Hyein, what’s happening?” you demanded, gripping the edge of the desk.

“A man,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “A man in a white mask—he just—he just killed Jansoon. He killed him!”

Your stomach churned as Beomgyu’s eyes went wide in the booth across from you.

“Hyein, listen to me,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “You need to get somewhere safe. Stay with your friends and lock yourselves in. Keep the line open—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice shaky but determined. “We… we’re setting up a plan. We’ll distract him so we can get away. I’ll call you back soon.”

“Hyein, wait—”

The line went dead.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the monitor as your heart hammered in your chest. Slowly, you took off your headset and set it down on the desk, letting out a shaky breath.

“Did that really just happen?” Beomgyu asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair. “It did.”

Beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “This town is insane. First the doctor, now a group of kids in a junkyard? What’s next, a clown at a carnival?”

You couldn’t help but let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”

He sighed, leaning back in his booth and staring at the ceiling. “This is so stressful. I mean, we’re just two people in a radio station. We’re not trained for this.”

“No, we’re not,” you agreed, rubbing your temples. “But we’re all these people have right now.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his expression was grim. “I just hope that girl and her friends make it out. That killer… he’s not messing around.”

The phone rang again, and this time, your heart jumped in anticipation. You quickly signaled to Beomgyu, who patched the call through.

“Hyein?” you asked urgently.

“It’s me,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steadier than before. “We—we’ve got a plan. We’re going to get out of here.”

You exhaled in relief but quickly focused. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“There are four of us left,” she explained. “Minji’s going to watch him, make sure we know where he is at all times. Jaemin is going to distract him—make noise and lead him away from the van. Doyeon’s going to act as bait, keeping his attention long enough for me to grab Jansoon’s keys and get the van started.”

You felt a mix of pride and fear for these kids. “That’s… brave, Hyein. Really brave. Are you sure you can pull this off?”

“We don’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice tightening. “We can’t just wait for him to find us all. We have to do something.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “Stick to the plan. Be quick, be careful, and don’t hesitate. You can do this.”

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll call you back once we’re out.”

The line disconnected, leaving you and Beomgyu in an anxious silence.

“They’re kids,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I know,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the monitor as if willing Hyein to call back with good news.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario. Finally, the phone rang again.

“Hyein?” you answered quickly.

“We did it,” she said, her voice breathless but triumphant. “We did the plan. Minji kept an eye on him while Jaemin distracted him with a bunch of noise. He fell for it—totally chased after Jaemin. Then Doyeon lured him even further away, and I grabbed the keys.”

“That’s incredible,” you said, genuine admiration in your voice. “You’re all so brave.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s not over yet. We got the van started, but there’s a problem. The doors to the junkyard—they’re stuck. Someone has to hold them open so we can drive through.”

Your heart sank. ��Who’s going to do it?”

“I volunteered,” she said quietly.

“Hyein—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead again, and you sat frozen, a deep dread settling over you.

Beomgyu leaned forward, his expression tight with worry. “They better not leave her behind.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on the gnawing feeling in your gut.

When the phone rang again, you answered immediately.

“Hyein?”

“I’m still here,” she said, her voice shaking. “I got the doors open, but…”

You heard her inhale sharply, and your stomach dropped.

“But what?” you asked.

“He’s here,” she whispered. “He’s right in front of me.”

Your grip tightened on the desk. “Hyein, listen to me. Don’t run. Don’t make any sudden moves. Just—just stay calm.”

She let out a choked sob. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you said firmly, though your own voice trembled. “Just keep talking to me, okay? You’re doing great.”

There was a long silence on the other end, broken only by her quiet, panicked breaths.

“Hyein?”

“He’s…” Her voice was barely audible now. “He’s walking away.”

“What?” you asked, your mind reeling.

“He just… turned around and walked off. Into the forest.”

You blinked, trying to process what she was saying. “He left you? Just like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice filled with confusion and fear. “Why? Why would he do that?”

You didn’t have an answer. None of this made sense.

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “But you’re alive, Hyein. That’s what matters. Get to safety. Get back to your friends.”

“Okay,” she said softly, though her voice was still trembling. “Thank you.”

When the call ended, you sat back in your chair, your mind spinning.

“What the hell was that?” Beomgyu asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, staring at the empty screen. “But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.”

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, and the tension in the room hung like a heavy fog. It was 3:17 a.m. when the phone rang again, the sharp sound cutting through the oppressive silence.

You leaned forward and answered, trying to keep the fatigue out of your voice. "You’re on the air."

For a moment, there was just static and the faint sound of someone breathing. Then a male voice, low and shaky, spoke.

"This is... this is so scary," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You straightened in your seat, your exhaustion replaced by unease. "What’s scary? Can you tell me where you are?"

"I’m at home," he said. "But I keep hearing things outside. Footsteps. Whistling. I’ve locked all the doors and windows, but it doesn’t feel like enough. This… this town isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be quiet. Safe."

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "I understand. It’s been a rough night for everyone, but you’ve done the right thing by securing your home. Stay inside. Stay quiet. Do you have anyone you can call to stay with you?"

"No," he muttered. "I live alone."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and your chest tightened. "Okay. Listen to me. You’re not alone right now, all right? I’m here. If anything happens, you call me back immediately."

There was a long pause before he whispered, "Thanks."

Then the line went dead.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Beomgyu, who had been silently watching you from his booth, gave you a small nod of acknowledgment.

"You’re handling this like a pro," he said.

"I’m just trying to keep people calm," you replied, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

The hours crawled by, the silence in the studio broken only by the occasional hum of equipment and the distant sound of a car passing on the street. It was around 4:30 a.m. when the phone rang again.

Your heart leapt as you quickly picked it up. "You’re on the air."

"It’s me," a familiar voice said.

"Hyein?" you asked, relief flooding your voice.

"Yeah," she said, and you could hear the exhaustion in her tone. "We made it. We’re home. All of us, safe. Thanks to you."

A smile tugged at your lips, the first genuine one of the night. "That’s great to hear, Hyein. I’m so glad you’re all okay."

"You… you really helped us," she continued, her voice soft. "I don’t think we would’ve made it without you. I mean, we were so scared, but you kept us focused. Gave us hope."

"That was all you," you replied. "You and your friends were brave. You came up with a plan and stuck to it. You saved yourselves."

There was a pause, and then she said, "Still… thank you."

"Of course," you said, your voice warm. "Now, get some rest. You’ve earned it."

"I will," she promised. "Goodnight… and be careful, okay? I don’t think this is over."

"Goodnight, Hyein," you said softly before the line went dead.

You set the phone down and leaned back in your chair, exhaling slowly. Beomgyu looked over at you, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.

"At least there’s some good news," he said.

"Yeah," you murmured, though Hyein’s parting words echoed in your mind.

I don’t think this is over.

And deep down, you knew she was right.

The phone rang again, cutting through the brief calm. Unknown caller. You knew who it was even before you answered.

"Let me guess," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re calling to congratulate me on something, right?"

A soft, mocking chuckle came through the line, chilling and deliberate. "You’re starting to understand how this works," the killer said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "But no congratulations this time. Just a little... advice."

You gripped the phone tighter. "And what kind of advice would that be?"

"Dr. Lee," he drawled, his tone teasing. "She seemed... stressed earlier, didn’t she? Want to know what really happened to her?"

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

He chuckled again. "Pick something up for me, and maybe I’ll give you a clue. Check the alleyway behind your building. I left you a little surprise."

Beomgyu immediately leaned toward his microphone, shaking his head vehemently as he heard the exchange. “Don’t do it,” he mouthed, his face pale.

But the killer wasn’t done. "Go on," he said, his tone turning low and taunting. "Be brave. Or stay in your booth and let the mystery eat away at you. Your choice."

And then the line went dead.

"Don’t even think about it," Beomgyu said, his voice cutting through the silence. "He’s baiting you. It’s a trap."

You turned to him, trying to muster some confidence. "If it’s a trap, then it’s a bad one. He wouldn’t tip his hand like this if he really wanted me dead."

"Or maybe that’s exactly what he wants you to think," Beomgyu countered. "Don’t go."

But you were already getting up. "I’ll be fine. Stay here and keep the phones running."

Beomgyu sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “you’re insane.”

You left the booth, stepping into the hallway. The silence of the empty building was oppressive, and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above did little to calm your nerves. Descending the staircase, each step felt louder than the last, echoing in the quiet.

At the bottom, you approached the glass front doors. Outside was nothing but darkness, the alleyway barely illuminated by a single flickering streetlamp in the distance.

You tried the door. Locked.

Frowning, you turned back and made your way behind the reception desk, where the backdoor led to the alleyway. Pushing it open, the cool night air hit you immediately, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and garbage.

The alley was narrow and lined with dumpsters, shadows stretching and shifting in the dim light. You hesitated, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

Then, you saw it.

An old, stained mattress lay discarded against the wall, and on top of it was something that made your stomach drop—a bloodied ID card.

Your hands trembled as you approached, the name and face on the card coming into focus. Dr. Lee.

You bent down, your breath hitching as you picked it up. The blood was dry but unmistakable, the edges of the card sticky.

You turned it over in your hands, a cold dread creeping up your spine. What did this mean? Was she—

A rustling sound.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, you looked up, scanning the alleyway. There was nothing.

But past the fence, just beyond the edge of the alley, you could feel it—someone was watching you.

The air seemed to thicken, your skin prickling with unease. You couldn’t see anyone, but the presence was unmistakable.

Swallowing hard, you clenched the ID card in your hand and straightened up, forcing your legs to move. You turned and walked back toward the door, refusing to look back, even as the sensation of being watched grew stronger.

You reached for the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, shaking the handle one more time as if sheer willpower could force it open. The sensation of being watched lingered, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

The sound of something faintly rustling outside sent a jolt of panic through you. You turned away from the door, scanning the dimly lit alley for another option. That’s when your eyes landed on the basement access door.

You cursed under your breath, knowing it was your only choice. "Great," you mumbled sarcastically, stepping toward it. Pushing the creaky door open, you descended the narrow staircase. The air grew colder with each step, the faint smell of mildew and rust wrapping around you like a damp blanket.

At the bottom, you reached a landing, the dim glow of an old overhead light flickering ominously. Shadows danced across the walls, making everything feel smaller and more claustrophobic.

Trying the first door, you found it locked. So was the next. You kept moving, your footsteps echoing faintly in the eerie silence. Finally, you reached a door that opened easily.

You stepped inside cautiously, your phone flashlight illuminating what could only be described as the janitor’s office—or, more accurately, a forgotten relic of one. The room was cramped and chaotic, filled with old supplies, broken equipment, and… mannequins?

You froze for a moment, your light catching the lifeless forms of several mannequins standing in one corner. Their chipped paint and blank expressions made your stomach twist. Who keeps mannequins in a basement office?

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this is officially creepy.”

Pushing past the eerie sight, your flashlight settled on the far wall, where a corkboard hung. You stepped closer, curiosity outweighing your unease.

The board was covered in newspaper clippings, photographs, and handwritten notes. Your pulse quickened as you scanned the array of items.

The photos were of people—townsfolk, by the looks of it. Some of the faces you recognized, including Dr. Lee. Others were strangers. Some pictures had red X’s drawn across them. Others were circled.

The clippings were just as unsettling. Headlines like “Local Man Disappears Without a Trace” and “Small-Town Tragedy: Young Man Found Dead” leapt out at you, along with handwritten notes like “Knew too much” and “Still watching.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, taking a step back.

You huffed, grabbing the corkboard from the wall and tucking it under your arm. Whatever this was, it wasn’t staying down here. You needed to get it upstairs, show Beomgyu, and figure out what the hell was going on.

The mannequins seemed closer than before as you turned to leave, but you tried to shake off the unease crawling up your spine.

"Don’t think about it," you muttered, stepping back out into the hallway.

With the corkboard in tow, you made your way back toward the stairs, trying not to think about how quiet everything felt.

Back in the booth, you placed the corkboard on the desk, your fingers trembling as you leaned over it. Beomgyu hovered behind you, peering at the chaotic arrangement of photos, clippings, and notes.

"Okay," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "This is a pattern. It has to be."

Your eyes scanned the board feverishly, focusing on the photos of the townsfolk. There were three with red X’s—you recognized two as victims you’d already heard about. The doctor’s photo, Dr. Lee, was circled in red but had no X, at least not yet.

The notes were cryptic but telling: "Knew too much." "Always works late."

Your heart skipped a beat as you landed on a photo of a man you vaguely recognized from a newspaper clipping you’d seen earlier—James Choi, the owner of the general store. His picture was circled too, with a note scribbled beside it: “Stays late, alone.”

You felt your stomach churn. “Beomgyu, who’s James Choi?”

Beomgyu squinted at the board. "James? Oh, he runs that little general store by the gas station. Nice guy, kind of quiet. Why?"

You jabbed your finger at his photo. “He’s next. Look at the notes. It’s all here—he works late, and the killer knows it. We need to call him now.”

Beomgyu grabbed the phone without hesitation, quickly dialing the number written on a post-it note you’d found pinned to the corner of the board. You paced nervously as the phone rang.

"Come on, pick up," Beomgyu muttered.

Finally, a voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Choi?” Beomgyu asked, his voice tight. “This is from the late-night show—listen, we don’t have much time. Are you still at the store?”

James sounded confused. “Uh, yeah? Why? What’s this about?”

You leaned in, speaking quickly. “You’re in danger. You need to leave now. Grab your keys, get in your car, and just drive. Don’t ask questions, don’t wait—just go.”

There was a pause. “Danger? What are you talking about? This some kind of prank?”

“It’s not a prank,” you snapped, your voice rising in urgency. “There’s someone—”

The sound of something crashing interrupted James on the other end of the line, followed by a low, guttural noise that made your blood run cold.

“James?” Beomgyu called, his voice cracking. “James, what’s going on?”

The line went silent for a moment, the faint sound of labored breathing coming through. And then—

“Well, well,” came a familiar, taunting voice.

Your stomach dropped as the killer’s smooth, mocking tone filled the line. “You tried,” he said, almost lazily, like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll give you credit for that. But you’re just not fast enough, are you?”

Your hands clenched into fists. “You son of a—”

“Ah-ah,” the killer interrupted, a smirk evident in his voice. “No need for name-calling. I’m just doing what I do best. And you? Well, you’re doing what you do best—sitting in that little booth, thinking you can save people. How’s that working out for you so far?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Why are you doing this?”

He laughed, the sound cold and detached. “You really think I’m going to explain myself? What kind of killer would I be if I gave away all my secrets? Let’s just say… I like keeping you on your toes. It’s fun watching you try so hard.”

Beomgyu’s face was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the phone. “You’re sick,” he muttered under his breath.

The killer ignored him. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “The game’s far from over.”

And then the line went dead.

You stared at the phone, your heart pounding in your chest. Beomgyu looked at you, his face etched with fear.

“What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. “We keep going. We figure this out.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his hands were trembling. "And what if we can’t?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

--

You sat hunched over the corkboard, piecing through the clues when Beomgyu cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "Hey, maybe you should go back to the janitor’s room. There might be something we missed."

You glanced up at him, skeptical. “Like what? I already grabbed the corkboard.”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his pen. “I don’t know. It just feels like… that place might have more to it. There’s no way someone went through all the effort of pinning up all this stuff and didn’t leave more behind.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, pushing back from the desk. “I’ll check again. Just… stay here and keep an ear on the phones.”

Beomgyu nodded quickly, relief evident on his face. “Be careful, okay?”

You didn’t bother replying as you headed back downstairs, retracing your steps. The basement was even creepier now, the flickering light above casting strange, shifting shadows along the walls. Pushing the janitor's office door open again, you stepped inside, the stale air immediately making your nose crinkle.

The mannequins were still there, standing motionless in the corner like silent sentinels. You forced yourself to ignore them, focusing instead on the cluttered room. You rummaged through drawers, boxes, and even under the dusty desk, finding nothing but old cleaning supplies and forgotten tools.

Just as you were about to give up, your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic under a pile of papers. You pulled it out—a key, small and rusted, with no label.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, standing up and looking around. “What do you open?”

You left the janitor’s office and started trying the key on every locked door in the hallway. It wasn’t until you reached the very last door—a heavy, steel one with a faded "Storage" sign on it—that the key finally turned.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit storage room filled with shelves of old files, boxes, and equipment. You stepped inside, the smell of dust and mildew filling your nose.

Grabbing your phone for light, you began rifling through the shelves. Most of it seemed mundane—inventory lists, outdated maintenance logs, and other boring documents. But then you found a box marked “Incident Reports.”

You opened it, pulling out a stack of files. One in particular caught your eye—a report on someone named Sim Jaeyun.

You skimmed the pages, your brow furrowing as you read. According to the report, Sim Jaeyun was a young man who had been found dead in the town’s river. The official cause of death was ruled as reckless behavior, with high levels of alcohol detected in his blood.

But something didn’t add up.

You found another document tucked in the back of the file—a copy of the autopsy report, signed by none other than Dr. Lee. The details in the report were vague, almost suspiciously so. It noted the alcohol levels but didn’t mention any other significant findings.

Flipping through more of the file, you found a handwritten note from a police officer who had initially investigated the scene: “Something doesn’t feel right. Jaeyun was a good swimmer.”

Your stomach churned as you read on. The note went on to mention that Jaeyun had been arguing with someone at a local bar the night he died. The name of the person he argued with was blacked out, but whoever it was, they were never questioned.

Your mind reeled. Something about this was definitely off. Why would Dr. Lee sign off on such a suspicious autopsy? And why had no one followed up on the blacked-out name?

You gathered the files, clutching them tightly as you made your way back upstairs. Your thoughts were racing, pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to fit together.

Beomgyu looked up from his seat as you entered the booth, his eyes widening when he saw the stack of papers in your hands. “What did you find?”

You dropped the files on the desk, flipping them open. “A death report. Sim Jaeyun. Found in the river, officially ruled as reckless behavior and alcohol poisoning. But…”

“But what?” Beomgyu prompted, leaning closer.

You pointed to the autopsy report. “It doesn’t add up. Just alcohol levels that don’t make sense. And guess who signed the autopsy?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Dr. Lee?”

“Bingo,” you said grimly. “And there’s more—apparently, Jaeyun got into an argument with someone at a bar that night, but the name was blacked out in the report. Whoever it was, they were never questioned.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So, what are you saying? That Jaeyun didn’t just… fall into the river drunk?”

You nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Someone’s been covering this up. And I think it ties back to everything that’s happening now.”

Beomgyu stared at the files, his face pale. “This just keeps getting worse.”

You didn’t respond, your mind already racing with what to do next.

You tapped your pen against the desk anxiously, the silence between you and Beomgyu growing heavier by the second. Finally, you broke it. “We need to talk to someone who knew Jaeyun. Someone who can tell us more about what happened that night.”

Beomgyu nodded, already pulling up the town directory on his computer. “There were names listed in some of those files,” he muttered, scrolling through the screen. “Here—Kim Jihoon. He was one of Jaeyun’s friends.”

“Call him,” you said firmly, leaning forward.

Beomgyu hesitated for a second but then grabbed the phone, dialing the number. You both waited as the line rang, the sound stretching your nerves thin.

Finally, a groggy voice answered, “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Hi, this is Beomgyu from the town’s late-night talk show,” Beomgyu began cautiously. “We’re trying to get some information about Sim Jaeyun. You were listed as one of his friends. Do you have a moment to talk?”

There was a pause on the other end before Jihoon spoke again, his voice laced with confusion. “Jaeyun? Why are you asking about him? He’s been gone for years.”

You leaned toward the mic, speaking gently but urgently. “We’re trying to piece together what really happened to him, Jihoon. There are some things about his death that don’t make sense. Can you tell us what you remember from that night?”

Another long pause. Then Jihoon let out a sigh. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but… sure. I’ll tell you what I can.”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who nodded for you to continue. “Okay,” you said. “Start from the beginning. What was that night like?”

“It was supposed to be a fun night,” Jihoon began, his voice tinged with sadness. “We were celebrating Jaeyun. He’d just gotten a big promotion at work, and we all went out to the bar to party. Everything was fine at first—laughing, drinking, just having a good time. But then…”

He trailed off, and you prompted him gently. “But then what?”

Jihoon sighed again. “Jaeyun got into an argument with someone. I didn’t see who it was—I was across the bar at the time, talking to someone else. But I heard voices getting louder, and when I looked over, Jaeyun was face-to-face with this guy. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it looked heated.”

Your grip on the pen tightened. “Did you see what the guy looked like at all? Anything about him?”

“No,” Jihoon admitted. “It was dark, and the bar was crowded. I only saw his back. But… I don’t know, there was something off about the guy. The way he was standing, the way he moved… it gave me a bad feeling.”

“What happened after that?” you asked.

“Jaeyun stormed out of the bar,” Jihoon said. “The guy followed him. I tried to go after them, but by the time I got outside, they were both gone. I looked around, called out for Jaeyun, but… nothing. It was like they’d disappeared.”

“And then?”

“The next day, I heard the news,” Jihoon said, his voice breaking slightly. “Jaeyun was found dead in the river. They said he’d been drinking and must’ve fallen in, but…”

“But you didn’t believe that,” you finished for him.

“No,” Jihoon said firmly. “Jaeyun wasn’t that kind of guy. He could hold his liquor, and he would’ve been careful. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind racing. Jaeyun had argued with someone—someone who followed him out of the bar. Someone who might have been responsible for his death.

Beomgyu’s voice cut through the static over the intercom, calm but clipped. “The other line’s ringing. I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded to yourself, still holding the phone to your ear. “Alright.”

Turning your attention back to Jihoon, you settled into your chair and tried to ground yourself.

“Jaeyun was just… he was the kind of guy everyone liked, you know? He always made time for people. Even when he was busy, he’d stop to check in. If you were upset about something, he’d notice—he always noticed.” Jihoon’s voice broke slightly, and you could hear him swallow hard.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “He sounds like a really good person. Someone who didn’t deserve what happened.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jihoon agreed softly. “He’d do these little things, you know? Like, one time, I forgot my wallet, and he just covered everything without even saying anything. He didn’t want people to feel bad, didn’t want anyone to feel like a burden. That was just Jaeyun.”

You found yourself smiling faintly, despite the grim topic. “He must’ve been an amazing friend to have.”

“He was,” Jihoon said, his voice thick with emotion. “Losing him… it wasn’t just hard. It was—” He paused, and you could hear him take a deep breath. “It was like losing the glue that held us all together. He was the one who brought us all into the same orbit.”

Your chest tightened as you listened, the weight of Jihoon’s words pressing down on you. Jaeyun had been more than just a name on a file or a tragic story in the town’s history. He’d been a real person, someone loved deeply by those around him.

“I’m sorry, Jihoon,” you said softly. “I wish I could’ve met him. He sounds like he left a mark on everyone he knew.”

“He did,” Jihoon whispered. “And that’s what makes it so hard to believe… what they said about him, that he was drunk and reckless. That’s not him. It never felt right to me, even back then.”

You nodded, the puzzle pieces in your mind continuing to shift and rearrange themselves. “I understand. And I think you’re right to trust your gut. There’s more to this story, and I’m trying to piece it together.”

Jihoon let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know why you care so much—"

The lights in the booth flickered and then abruptly went out, plunging you into darkness. You froze, the silence suddenly suffocating.

A second later, Beomgyu’s voice came over the intercom, slightly muffled but urgent. “Uh… the power just went out in the whole building. I think you’ll need to go down to the basement and reset the breaker. I’d do it, but I’m kinda stuck here monitoring the calls.”

You clicked your flashlight on, its narrow beam cutting through the pitch-black room. “Got it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stay up here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll keep an eye on everything,” Beomgyu promised, his voice a little shaky but resolute.

You stood up, your flashlight casting eerie shadows as you moved toward the booth door. The air felt colder now, heavier, as though the power outage had sucked the life out of the building.

Exiting the booth, you walked down the hall toward the staircase. Every creak of the floor beneath your feet made your stomach tighten.

The door to the basement was slightly ajar when you reached it, creaking as you pushed it open. You descended the stairs, each step echoing loudly in the stillness.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and old cardboard. The beam of your flashlight bounced across the walls, revealing cluttered shelves, dusty equipment, and the same door to the janitor's room you’d searched earlier.

Something felt... wrong.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, your breath catching as the sensation of eyes on you. It was that prickling feeling, the kind that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

You swung the flashlight around again, the beam slicing through the shadows. Nothing. “Get it together,” you muttered under your breath.

Moving cautiously, you made your way to the breaker panel in the corner of the room. The metal door was slightly ajar, as though someone had been there recently. You frowned and reached out, pulling it open.

The switches were all flipped off. You began resetting them, flipping each one back to its original position. As the last switch clicked into place, you heard a faint sound behind you—a scuffling, like a shoe sliding against the concrete floor.

You froze.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness.

No response.

Your flashlight beam darted across the room again, settling on nothing but dusty shelves and discarded junk. The sensation of being watched was stronger than ever, the weight of unseen eyes boring into your back.

Swallowing hard, you gripped the flashlight tighter and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s just your imagination,” you told yourself. “Just nerves.”

But as you climbed the stairs, the creak of a floorboard behind you made your blood run cold. You spun around, flashlight trembling in your hand, but there was no one there.

Heart pounding, you hurried up the remaining steps and shoved the door open, stepping back into the main hall. The lights flickered back on, flooding the building with their harsh fluorescent glow.

You walked back toward the booths, your thoughts still caught on Jihoon’s words, and your pulse quickened when you noticed something strange—the door to Beomgyu’s booth was open. Beomgyu never left it open when he was working.

Curiosity and concern flared in equal measure as you stepped inside. “Beomgyu?” you called softly, but the booth was empty.

The faint smell of his cologne lingered in the air, but there was no sign of him. You frowned, glancing around, trying to spot anything out of place. The silence felt oppressive, thick, like the air itself was watching you.

Turning back toward the hallway, you froze.

A figure was walking toward you, their movements deliberate and slow, as if savoring every step. They were dressed in black, a pale white mask covering their face, and in their hand gleamed a knife.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Thinking fast, you slammed the door shut and locked it just as the figure lunged. The door rattled violently as they crashed into it, and you stumbled back, gasping, your chest heaving.

The sound of the knife scraping against the door sent shivers down your spine.

You turned, instinctively seeking safety, only to feel your stomach drop.

Someone was standing in your booth.

On the other side of the glass separating Beomgyu’s booth from yours, the killer stood, their white mask tilted ever so slightly as if they were studying you.

You stared in disbelief, your pulse pounding in your ears as the killer leaned casually against the glass. Slowly, they raised their knife and tapped the blade against the glass, the metallic tink tink tink reverberating in the confined space.

"Hey there," their distorted voice drawled, smug and taunting. “Miss me?”

You didn’t answer, too frozen by the weight of the moment.

They chuckled, the sound muffled but chilling. “C’mon, let’s make this interesting. Open the door for me. I just want to play.”

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head, your voice trembling but firm. “Where’s Beomgyu?”

The killer tilted their head, tapping the knife against the glass again. “Oh, he’s around,” they said, their tone lilting, as if they were enjoying a private joke.

Panic clawed at your insides. “What did you do to him?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, the mask distorting their features into a sinister blur. “Why so worried? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about yourself?”

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to hold their gaze despite the fear threatening to crush you. “What do you want?”

They leaned back slightly, tapping the glass once more, their knife dragging a slow, deliberate line down its surface. “For now? I just want to see how long you can last.”

The killer’s mask shifted slightly as he glanced toward your desk, his knife tapping idly against the glass again. “Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

You glanced at the desk, realizing he was looking at the scattered clues you’d been piecing together: the newspaper clippings, the notes, the photo of Jaeyun.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your hands were trembling at your sides.

The killer tilted his head, almost amused. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been digging, haven’t you? Going through things you shouldn’t, asking questions. Connecting dots. You’re smarter than they gave you credit for.”

You clenched your fists, anger bubbling up beneath your fear. “Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice sharper now. “What’s the point of all this? Why terrorize the town? Why kill all these people?”

The killer let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound muffled behind his mask. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You glared at him, heart pounding. “Then explain it. Make me understand.”

The killer stood straighter, the playful tilt of his head replaced with something colder, darker. His voice dropped, the teasing edge gone. “This isn’t random. This isn’t chaos for the sake of chaos. This is revenge.”

You froze. “Revenge? For what?”

“For Jaeyun,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For what happened to him. For what they did to his life.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “You’re doing all of this… because of Jaeyun?”

The killer nodded slowly. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Alone. Cast aside. Written off as a reckless drunk when everyone knew that wasn’t who he was.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces clicking together in your mind. “You… you think someone in this town killed him. Don’t you?”

The killer laughed again, but this time it was bitter, full of venom. “Think? Oh, no. I don’t think. I know.”

Your pulse raced as you stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. “Then why target the town? Why not just go after the person responsible?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, his voice low and menacing. “Because they all played a part. They turned a blind eye. They lied. They covered it up. And now? They’re going to pay.”

You shook your head, panic and disbelief swirling in your chest. “This isn’t justice. This is—this is insanity!”

“Call it whatever you want,” the killer said, stepping back slightly, his knife still glinting in his hand. “But by the time I’m done, everyone will know the truth. And Jaeyun will finally get the justice he deserves.”

You stared at him through the glass, trying to piece everything together. “What connects you to Jaeyun?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “Why are you doing this in his name? What was he to you?”

The killer chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the air like a warning. “Oh, come on,” he said, tilting his head mockingly. “You’ve been working so hard. And yet you haven’t figured it out?”

You frowned, frustration mounting. “Stop playing games and just tell me!”

Before you could say anything else, he suddenly stopped pacing, his hand reaching up to the edge of his mask. “You want answers?” he asked, his tone laced with something dangerous. “Then pay attention.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as his fingers gripped the mask. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the face underneath.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No,” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “That’s not possible…”

It was Jaeyun.

His face was unmistakable, though there was something different now—harsher. His features were gaunter, his eyes darker, filled with a cold fire that sent a chill down your spine.

“But—you’re dead,” you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief. “They said you were dead. I saw the reports.”

A grim smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Dead?” he echoed, his voice dripping with venom. “I was supposed to be. The man who killed me certainly thought I was.”

“Then how are you alive?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer to the glass, his expression hard. “Sheer will,” he said, his tone icy. “I wasn’t supposed to survive that night. But I did. Barely. They threw me in the river, thinking they’d silenced me for good. But they didn’t count on me crawling out, broken, bleeding, but alive.”

Your stomach churned as you processed his words. “Who did this to you?”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. “The man who killed me is now the town’s mayor,” he spat, his voice thick with hatred. “That promotion was supposed to be mine. I earned it. But he couldn’t stand the idea of me taking what he thought was his. So he decided to remove the competition—permanently.”

Your breath hitched. “They covered it up,” you murmured, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Of course they did,” Jaeyun sneered. “They spun a pretty little story. Made me out to be reckless, irresponsible. A drunk who couldn’t handle himself. And everyone believed it.”

“And no one knew you were alive?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his expression cold. “Not a soul. They all thought they were free of me. That their secret was safe.” He leaned closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “But I’ve been watching. Waiting. And now, I’m back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “You’re doing all of this… to get revenge?”

Jaeyun smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Revenge? Justice? Call it whatever you want. But this town took everything from me. My life. My future. And now, I’m going to take everything from them.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t justice, Jaeyun. This is—this is murder.”

“They murdered me first,” he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “They thought they could bury me and move on. But they were wrong. And now, they’re going to pay.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. All you could do was stare at the man in front of you—the man who had risen from the dead, consumed by a need for vengeance.

Jaeyun’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his lips curving into a sly smile. He leaned against the glass, tapping his knife against it rhythmically, the sound unnerving in the silence. “Come on,” he murmured, his tone low and coaxing. “Open the door. Let’s talk properly. Face to face.”

Jaeyun’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as you stood your ground. He straightened, stepping closer to the glass, and his voice dropped into a darker, more threatening tone. “You think you're safe in there?” He tapped the knife against the glass again, this time with more force, his breath coming faster as his frustration grew. “You really think you can stop me by just hiding?”

When you didn’t respond, he slammed his fist against the glass with a deafening crack. The force rattled the walls, sending a shiver down your spine. He glared at you, his chest heaving, rage and amusement mixed in his expression. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Open the damn door.”

You stiffened, gripping the edge of the desk in front of you as if it could anchor you. “Why would I do that?” you asked, your voice sharper than you felt. “So you can kill me too? No thanks.”

His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes glinted with something almost playful. “Kill you?” he said, feigning offense. “Why would I do that? You’re the only one who’s actually listened to me. The only one who’s tried to understand.”

“Forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly.

He tilted his head, the knife pausing mid-tap. “You’re scared,” he observed, his voice soft, almost gentle. “But you don’t have to be. I’m not your enemy.”

“Not my enemy?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’ve been terrorizing this town for days. You killed people, Jaeyun.”

“They deserved it,” he said flatly, the warmth in his tone vanishing. “Every single one of them was complicit. They lied. They covered it up. They let him get away with it.”

“And Beomgyu?” you demanded, anger rising in your chest. “What did he ever do to you?”

Jaeyun hesitated, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Collateral damage,” he said eventually, his tone colder now. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’re right,” you said, your voice firm despite the fear twisting in your gut. “I don’t. Because what you’re doing isn’t justice—it’s just more bloodshed.”

His expression darkened, but then he sighed, as if trying to calm himself. He stepped back from the glass slightly, sheathing the knife at his side. “You’re different,” he said after a moment, his tone soft again. “You’ve got a brain. You’ve been piecing this together all night. You know I’m not lying about what happened to me. So why not help me? Why not open the door and join me?”

You stared at him, stunned. “Join you?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You said it yourself—this isn’t justice. But maybe you could help me make it right. Maybe you could keep me… grounded.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Am I?” he countered, stepping closer to the glass again. “Or am I the only one who’s willing to do what it takes? Think about it—you’ve seen what this town is like. Corrupt, rotten to its core. You’ve been digging up its secrets all night. Do you really think anyone else is going to pay for what they’ve done?”

You hesitated, his words stirring something in you. The town was corrupt. The mayor had gotten away with murder. And Jaeyun… as twisted as his methods were, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Seeing your hesitation, his smile returned, wider now. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice almost soothing. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you? This town doesn’t deserve your loyalty. They’ll betray you the first chance they get. But I won’t. You and me, we could fix this. Together.”

Your grip on the desk tightened, your knuckles white. “No,” you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. “I’m not opening that door. I’m not like you.”

Jaeyun’s expression shifted, his smile fading. “Pity,” he murmured, his tone more disappointed than angry. “You would’ve made a good ally.”

He turned his back to you, walking toward the door to your booth. But before he left, he glanced over his shoulder, a dark smile curling his lips again. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said softly. “One way or another.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you trembling in the eerie silence of the room.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny @kiripimaspillow

@wensurr

Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3

[everythingspokenfor]

Part 2

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

You were in the middle of packing, taking photos off the walls and putting them away in boxes, piles of clothes littered on the floor based on whether you were taking them or donating.

"Didn't realise we weren't close enough, eh?" Bakugou said, arms crossed leaning against the wall of your room.

Startled you looked at him clutching the photos close to your chest."Knock at least Katsuki, you scared the shit out of me." You grumbled as you regained composure and turned back to the task at hand. Partially to get it done, mostly to avoid Bakugou's gaze while you had this unavoidable confrontation.

You should have told him you were moving out, it was a rational thing, you were friends infact best friends, had seen each other at worst, dealt with it too. Should have had an adult conversation about it. But what would have you said "Hey! Katsuki I am moving out because I am in love with you but you have a girlfriend and the sole thought of her makes me sick" yeah not a good argument or maybe evening worst you would just end up crying sobbing pathetically while pointing out you were there for him more but that's not how it works, you suppose. He deserves happiness, and you are glad he found it. You just wanted to find yours too.

"Haruki, your assistant, let it slip that you are moving", Bakugou snarled, nostrils flaring, fists tightening, tell-tale signs that he is not mad but disheartened.

"I was going to tell you", you defended, turning to face him.

"When? huh, when were you going to tell me?", He hissed "When everything was packed, and you had to bid farewell like some sort of formality?", He continued ,moving towards you, for the first time locking eyes and seeing the red-rimmed, swollen eyes your cheeks were sunken too. "What happened, peanut?", He questioned, pulling the photos from your hand and setting the to the side. "Did I do something? I'll fix it, fucks sake talk to me, tell what was it that made you run I'll fix it", He cupped your face and made you look at him.

"I don't think you can fix this one, Suki", you murmured, voice almost catching in your throat because you'll lose him, you'll lose his friendship. For a moment you wished you weren't in love with him, that you could be normal around him, could be a part of his life, let him be a part of yours. But, you had to fall in love with him, ruin whatever ever you had.

"This new apartment is closer to my agency, plus how long do we go about living here, Suki?", you said before woefully pulling yourself away from him, choosing to pack up remaining of things.

"You should have said something, I deserve to at least know, you know? I go to work and your assistant, fucking Haruki, is looking for couches for you.", He said bitterly,"He knew, he was informed, he was fucking involved, and I wasn't, aren't we close? is that fucker closer to you, huh tell me?" He gritted out.

"If you were any less busy with your fucking girlfriend, then maybe you would have helped me," you yelled, words almost getting clogged in your throat, anger finally taking over.

Both of you stare wide eyed at each other, truth finally out, you behaviour making sense to Bakugou, you can see the wheels turning in his head.

He moved closer to you, reaching out, but you pull away like it burns because if you were being honest it does, Bakugou winces at you withdrawal. Your anger, your distance, you silence making sense you heart finally bared open in front of him.

"If you can't tell me what I want to hear then you shouldn't say anything",you croaked, knowing that you are being selfish,"I want a confession Suki and not consolation", you finalized.

Bakugou looked at you before he left the room, perhaps you already knew his decision but that didn't make your heart hurt any less.

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

[tinylilacbun]

Hello!! I’m loving the babysitter JJ, I was wondering if you could do one where he gets into an accident and ends up in the hospital (nothing too serious) but the ask if he has anyone to call and he calls the toddlers parents and they go and pick him up with toddler!reader and she brings him a balloon and teddy bear.

Maybe he should have just minded his business when some kooks made snarky comments about him, maybe he shouldn't have started a fight with one of them that resulted in the group chasing after him and him jumping over every obstacle until he climbed over a fence and braced the ground wrong causing him to twist his ankle.

After he found he somewhere to hide and took deep breaths he winces the second he tried to put pressure on his foot, knowing it couldn't be just a simple sprain.

JJ would usually never go to a hospital, given the fact he had never the money for it and because he couldn't stand the scent of disinfectant, but ever since he works as your babysitter he had a bit more budget than he ever had in his life.

That's how he's now sitting on a hospital bed, his ankle already in a brace and morphine in his system to help with the pain as he's waiting for the nurse to bring him the discharge papers.

He's looking down at his phone, hesitating to do what the nurse suggested to him earlier, that he should call someone to pick him up since the way home would be taking too long for him to manage alone.

His thought of calling his father dismisses he the second it enters his mind, knowing he would just end up sitting here for another reason after doing so, the Twinkie is having some issues right now so not even John b can pick him up right now.

With a sigh he sends a text to your mother, making sure to say that it's not necessary if they're busy, instantly regretting his decision and about to delete it again until he notices that she already read the message.

He curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Since then he hasn't gotten a reply, sitting there for another half hour the door opens and he thinks it's the nurse with the papers but his eyes widen a tad when he sees your parents.

Your father is holding you securely on his hip, setting you down the moment you start to squirm in his hold, quickly running towards JJ to hug his waist, standing between his legs.

"Hey, there, princess..." He chuckles, patting your back before he looks up at your parents, seeing the clear concern on their faces.

"Are you okay? Did they give you proper care? Because if not I'll-" Your mother starts but JJ nods, reaching down to pick you up and sit you down next to him as you keep clinging onto him.

"I'm fine...I shouldn't have bothered you 'cause of this." He mumbles, glancing at the things you're holding. "Watcha got there, huh?"

"Oh! Dis for you jay! To makes you happy." You smile at him, holding the blue balloon and a small teddy bear out to him.

JJ doesn't know how he deserves all this, seeing you in the country club that one day was the best thing that ever happened to him and he will forever be grateful.

"Thanks, cupcake..." He says quietly, booping your nose with the paw of the teddy bear to hear you giggle. "He's just as adorable as you."

Soon the discharge papers were signed and JJ made his way outside with crutches, not really protesting when his father asked if he wanted to stay over, just for the night.

Your parents know that it's hard for JJ to let people help him, even more if they're kooks, but your parents seem to be the only exception. He would never admit that though.

You hold his hand the whole car ride back to your house, wanting to comfort him like he always does when you're hurt or sad, rambling about your day and he listens to every word you say, smiling at you the whole time.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafenroostersgirl

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[scary-grace]

what I don't remember now - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Tomura's life doesn't end when his death sentence is handed down, and he knows damn well that he's innocent. It won't be long before one of his appeals proves it, and he can come home -- back to his friends, and back to you, the girlfriend who stood by him through the trial. But death row is a nightmare Tomura can't wake up from, and as the years behind bars begin to pile up, Tomura starts to question if it really matters whether he did it. If he'll ever be free. And if you and the other people who love him have forgotten him for good. (cross-posted to Ao3)

This is the prequel fic to 'if my heart was a house', and covers what's happened to Tomura since the last time he and the reader saw each other. I did a not-insignificant amount of research into the criminal justice system in Japan, specifically on prison conditions, prisoner treatment, and the administration of the death penalty. There is some dark and potentially triggering content, especially in later chapters, so please be wary! dividers/banners by @cafekitsune

one

It’s cold. Tomura lies still in the half-darkness of his cell, willing himself not to shiver. If he shivers, that’s it. That’s an admission that he can’t hack it, that being here is getting to him, that he can’t swallow the fistful of bitter pills that have been shoved down his throat. Tomura made a decision, somewhere between his sentencing and when he was shoved out of an armored transport in the yard of an unnamed prison, that he’s not going to give a nanometer. He’s not going to blink, or flinch, or whatever the fuck. Do that, and it’ll look like acceptance. And Tomura’s not going to accept being sentenced to death for something he didn’t fucking do.

Tomura’s not a good person. On his best day he’s lazy and on his worst he’s an unapologetic asshole. The most redeeming feature he has is the fact that better people than him want to be around him for some reason, and it’s not because he’s good-looking or ambitious or rich. Since birth Tomura’s been a disappointment. That’s not the same thing as being a murderer, and as many good reasons as Tomura has to hate the house he grew up in and the family who lived there with him, none of them are enough to make him kill them all.

He doesn’t remember what he was doing the night of the murders, except that he spent part of it in the hospital. He doesn’t remember confessing, which he apparently did, and when he tries to think about any of it, he gets a splitting headache and the kind of nausea that means he’s gotten hosed down in his cell eight times since he arrived three weeks ago. Tomura’s trial is a blur, too. The only thing that’s clear in his head is the memory of you – you, and your hands clasped tight around his, holding on so hard that Tomura thought his fingers would break. Your hands are smaller than his. Your hands were strong. Your hands are warm.

Thinking of you is one way to warm up, but it comes at a cost. A shiver runs through Tomura from his fingers up, and he lurches upright on his cot to hide the motion. A split second later, the lights in his cell go on, so bright that he’s blinded for a second. He raises his hand to shield his eyes, and a guard barks at him over the intercom. “Inmate 230385, return to the rest position immediately.”

“I just sat up,” Tomura says. “Is that illegal or something?”

“Return to the rest position.”

“Why?”

“Return to the rest position or corrective action will be taken.”

Corrective action? Tomura’s already on death row. What the hell do they think they can do to him that will make a difference? Take him out of his cell, probably. And put him somewhere colder. Tomura’s blanket slid down when he sat up. He hitches it back up and lies down again.

He doesn’t need to cause trouble. He’s not going to be here long. He’s got appeals pending, and there’s no way the judge who hears the next one will be as stupid as the one at his trial. Tomura’s not going to die here. Sooner or later, he’s going to get out, and when he does, nothing anyone said at the trial will matter. His friends will still be there, and so will you. Tomura just has to hold out until then.

He stares up at the ceiling and tries not to shiver. It gets easier when he remembers the warmth of your hands around his, the last time he saw you. Tomura thinks about that, about you, and it helps. But even your memory can’t quite keep out the cold.

two

Someone’s coughing. Tomura can’t tell which cell they’re in, but they’re making a hell of a lot of noise, and it’s ripping at Tomura’s nerves. He didn’t use to have such a problem with noise, but the death row is so silent most of the time that Tomura can hear the other inmates breathing in their tiny cells. No one gets to talk unless spoken to by the guards, and the guards never speak to anyone unless it’s to correct someone. Tomura’s been on the receiving end of corrective action more than a few times by now. It’s usually not worth it.

Tomura knows it’s not worth it, and still, the urge is there. He wants to say things. He wants to ask questions – like why he’s not allowed to make phone calls or write letters, what’s happening to all the phone calls and letters that he knows are coming for him. He doesn’t want anything to do with the other prisoners, but if he needed to talk to them, he’d want to know the option was available without risking the loss of his exercise period or getting his meals reduced from three to two per day. Tomura’s heard there are worse punishments. If he’s going to get one of those, it’s not going to be for trying to talk to someone.

Still, the coughing sounds like it’s killing whoever’s doing it – but before it kills them, it’s going to kill Tomura, because he can’t take this fucking noise. He can’t say a word without permission, but this asshole gets to hack out a lung with no consequences at all? Fuck that. Tomura clenches his jaw, trying to hold in the howl of frustration. He clamps his hands over his ears so he won’t have to hear it any longer. They need to stop. No one cares, and it’s driving Tomura insane – more insane than the silence, more insane than the cold. Shut up, he thinks at them, whoever the fuck they are. Shut up, shut up –

“Shut the fuck up!” someone else explodes from somewhere further down death row. “Just die already!”

“Inmate 113019, this is a verbal reprimand for speaking out of turn. If you continue –”

“Yeah. Go for it! Put me in the protection cells! At least then I’ll be away from this fucking noise –”

The coughing takes on a weird, wet note that it hasn’t had before, something that makes Tomura’s skin crawl. It’s drowned out almost instantly by the sound of the guards’ footsteps down the hall on their way to lower the hammer on 113019, whoever he is. Whoever he is, he puts up a fight. Tomura hears heavy thuds, curses, a burst of sound that might be sobs or laughter, and somewhere in the middle of it, the coughing comes to a complete stop. It doesn’t start up again, and once the guards drag 113019 away, the cell block is dead silent once more.

Two minutes ago, all Tomura wanted was for it to be quiet again. Right now, he can’t help wondering why the coughing stopped so suddenly. Right now, he misses the noise.

three

There’s frost on the ground, and Tomura can see his breath. His teeth are chattering, and he’s shivering too hard to walk. He shouldn’t be outside. But he gets one exercise period per day, and it’s the only time he gets to spend outside his cell. The only time he gets to see the sky and breathe air that hasn’t been recycled thousands of times until it tastes old and stale. It doesn’t matter if it’s below freezing. If Tomura has a chance to be outside, he should use it.

He forces himself to take even steps on his way around the tiny exercise yard, and at the same time, he lets his mind wander – back to you, because it’s easier to think about you out here than it is in his cell. He doesn’t want to imagine you in there with him. Out here, it’s easier. He can pretend the two of you are meeting up to go for a walk, like you did on your first date. He can pretend you’re just around the next turn.

After the first time you ran into each other, Tomura didn’t think he’d see you again. Which was stupid. You worked at the library on campus, and he needed to use the library, so of course he was going to see you. And every time you saw him, you talked to him until you had to go do something else – like renew someone’s checked-out book, reserve them a study room, schedule a session with a tutor, find a source they really should have been able to find on their own. At first Tomura took those interruptions as his cue to leave. Then he started waiting through them. Then he started coming by even if you were busy, waiting however long it took for you to have time for him.

Tomura hadn’t meant to ask you out, exactly. He just told you that he wanted to talk more sometime when you weren’t busy, and you suggested taking a walk together. Worked for him. Except for the part where it was really cold, even though the sun was out and the air was still, and the part where Tomura handles the cold the same way cats handle being sprayed with a hose. He was shivering before the two of you made it halfway around campus.

You noticed. Are you okay?

Fine, Tomura muttered, and you gave him a skeptical look – but you didn’t argue. You always knew how to call him on his bullshit, right from the beginning. Aren’t you cold?

I run kind of warm, you said, and you held out your hands. Here.

Tomura knew it didn’t mean anything, but his stomach still twisted, and his hands were shaking from more than the cold when he settled them in yours. Your hands were warm, just like you said they’d be. Warm, but not sweaty, and before Tomura could say anything, you folded his hands together, with yours on either side. You’re freezing, you said. I can keep you warm, but we should probably go inside.

Yeah. Tomura was glad you were holding his hands that way. Any other way, and he’d have latched on tight, refusing to let go. Sorry. This was a dumb idea.

Not really. A walk is a decent first date.

A first date. You wanted it to be a date, and you thought it was a good one. Tomura’s face somehow managed to heat up without making the rest of him any warmer. If I ask you to get coffee with me right now, can that be our second date?

You smiled. That made Tomura feel warmer, almost as warm as your hands felt around his. That works for me.

You always kept Tomura warm, and not for the first time, Tomura wonders what’s happening to you out there. Where you are, what you’re doing. If you found somewhere to live, because you can’t pay the rent in yours and Tomura’s apartment alone. If you’ve got your job still, because Tomura was pretty sure you were going to lose it for calling out so many days to sit with him during the trial. If you’re okay without him.

Tomura’s not okay without you. That’s why he has to be careful where he thinks about you. Not inside, when he can’t escape the fact that he’s been in prison for three years already. Only out here, in the cold, when he can think about what it’ll be like when all this is over. A guard shouts at Tomura that it’s time to come inside, and Tomura picks up the pace. One more circuit around the tiny yard. A few more seconds walking with you.

four

Tomura closes his eyes and listens to the quiet tapping against the bars of the cell beside his. It’s taken him four years in here to learn Morse code, and now that he knows it, he can talk to the other inmates on death row – the ones he feels like talking to, which is basically no one. The person next to him is all right. He calls himself Kurogiri. Tomura doesn’t know why he’s here.

Nobody knows why Tomura’s here, either. On the rare occasions anyone gets to talk to anyone else, they have better things to do than go over what bullshit twist of fate led to their death sentences. Convictions don’t matter when they’re all waiting on the same punishment. All that matters is time – how much time they’ve spent in here, and how much more time it’ll take for this to end. It says something about this place that four years after he was sentenced, Tomura’s still the newest one on the block.

Not for long, though. That’s what Kurogiri’s saying. Tomura taps out a response. H-o-w k-n-o-w?

G-u-a-r-d-s. Kurogiri has some kind of in with the guards. He’s never said what it is, and Tomura’s never asked. K-u-n-i-e-d-a o-l-d c-e-l-l.

So far in Tomura’s time here, only one inmate’s died, and it wasn’t in an execution. The inmate who was sick during Tomura’s second winter here died of whatever he had, and the guards didn’t find him in the cell until the next morning. By that point the smell of death was everywhere, and instead of letting the inmates move somewhere else until it was gone, the guards left all the vents open to flush it out. They let in the cold, too. It took Tomura two weeks to get warm.

He wonders if anyone’s going to tell the new guy what happened to the last person who lived there. Then again, nobody’s told Tomura what happened to the last occupant of his cell. He doesn’t want to know. Kurogiri is tapping out another message, and Tomura listens idly. Y-o-u o-k?

Tomura double-taps – shorthand for yes. W-h-y?

There’s a long pause. A really long pause. Tomura’s in the process of repeating himself when another prisoner responds from down the hall. C-h-i-c-k-e-n-s-h-i-t. T-e-l-l h-i-m o-r I w-i-l-l.

W-h-a-t? Tomura asks. His stomach is clenching, nausea welling up like he hasn’t felt in months. It’s hard to get scared in here. Nothing ever happens. T-e-l-l –

F-i-r-s-t a-p-p-e-a-l d-e-n-i-e-d. Kurogiri answers so fast that Tomura can barely decipher it. O-n-l-y f-i-r-s-t o-n-e. O-t-h-e-r-s –

Tomura’s not listening anymore. He manages to roll sideways off his bed before he throws up, but that’s it. The nausea that overtakes him is too powerful for him to do anything but vomit on the floor, then dry-heave once his stomach empties itself completely. The other inmates are laughing at him, calling out even though the guards are already on their way. The same inmate who always gets dragged out for talking is the loudest. “You’re getting off easy, kid! You killed seven people, but you only have to die once.”

“There are more appeals,” Kurogiri says. His voice is soft, almost comforting, completely at odds with the sound of Tomura’s cell door scraping open, drowned out almost entirely by the rush of cold water spraying from the fire hose, dousing Tomura and the mess and everything in his cell all at once. “You don’t need to worry. The process has already begun –”

“I didn’t know.” Tomura’s voice is hoarse, and his mouth tastes so awful that the sensation of air rushing over his tongue makes him retch again. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

The other inmates jeer at him, pointing out that they did tell him, but they must know that’s not what Tomura meant. Tomura should have heard that news from a lawyer, from an administrator, from a doctor – from somebody important. Not from a bunch of murderers. What if that hadn’t been his first appeal? What if it was his last one? If all his appeals fail, how is Tomura going to find out? Is anyone going to tell him, or is he just going to wake up one morning and find out it’s his last day on earth?

Tomura tries not to think of you in here, when things get bad. But he lets himself this time, just this once. Just to imagine that someone’s here who loves him, someone who cares that he’s sick and lonely and terrified. Someone who could tell him that it’ll be all right. Someone he’d believe. But when his skin is crawling with cold and disgust and terror so strongly that he can’t help but try to scratch it away, it’s hard to imagine that even you could make him feel better.

five

Tomura’s never gotten a letter from the outside. Never gotten a letter from you or any of his friends or whichever lawyer is handling his appeals – or even from Sensei, who spent the entire trial testifying against him so he could “learn his lesson”. Tomura thinks Sensei owes him an explanation, given that Sensei’s testimony put him away. The person he described as committing the murders sounds nothing like Tomura, because Tomura didn’t do it. He wants to hear what Sensei has to say about that. If Sensei thinks he’s learned his lesson yet.

It’s the lack of contact from you and the others that worries him more. He thought for sure he’d hear from you, from Spinner, from Toga, from Twice. Dabi’s not the letter-writing type, and Magne and Compress were newer additions to the group, but Tomura thought they’d maybe write at least once in five years. He’d call and ask, but he’s only got some of the phone numbers memorized, and what if you’ve changed them? It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get visits or phone calls anyway.

It feels like a punishment, but Tomura can’t figure out what he did. He acts up the standard amount for a death row prisoner, enough to lose his exercise period or get his food restricted or have his cell tossed and lose anything he’s managed to keep in there. Nothing that deserves no phone calls for five years. Five fucking years. It’s not until the newest inmate starts acting up that Tomura gets a real answer.

He knows the name of the guy in Kunieda’s old cell only because the guy keeps insisting on being called by it, no matter how many times the guards correct him for speaking out of turn. When he’s not picking stupid fights with the guards, Chisaki is bitching about how this prison compares to his last prison, and everybody got tired of it within six weeks of his arrival. Tomura doesn’t have anything to compare this prison to. Before this, he’d never spent even a night in jail.

As summer turns to fall turns to winter and the temperature inside the cell block drops to just above freezing, Chisaki calms down. For a week, then another week, then an entire month. Did he get religion or something? Tomura’s seen that happen to at least one prisoner by now, but from what he can tell, it usually takes longer. To go from fucking around constantly to not fucking around at all is a big shift. It’s weird.

One day, while he’s huddled up in his cell under his stupidly thin blanket, Tomura hears voices filtering in from the exercise yard. His cell has vents that let in the cold, and apparently also give him the chance to eavesdrop. He’s never had a chance to eavesdrop before, but that’s because no one ever talks.

Of course it’s Chisaki talking. He’s somehow gotten permission from one of the guards to speak up, and he’s getting straight to the point. “My behavior for the last month has been exemplary. In my previous prison such a record has resulted in the renewal of privileges which were previously removed – such as the opportunity for visitors. When will that be restored?”

Whichever guard he’s talking to laughs awkwardly. “Nobody told you?”

“Told me what?”

Tomura’s interested, too. He listens closer. “You were in maximum security before, but it’s – different here,” the guard says awkwardly. “Once a sentence is finalized, no contact is allowed with the outside world.”

“What?” Chisaki demands. “Why not?”

“It’s policy. Contact with the outside world causes distress for condemned prisoners and their families and has no practical benefit. I – no, stop –”

Shouting erupts in the yard, and Tomura cringes away from the vents, his eyes burning. It’s not a punishment. It’s not a punishment, which means it can’t be lifted, which means that even if you and the others have been calling and writing letters, you can’t get through. Tomura will never get those letters. Tomura can’t write back. When Tomura saw you in the courtroom after his sentencing wasn’t just the last time he ever saw you, it’s the last time he’ll ever get to talk to you. And he didn’t know it. If he’d known it he would have said –

The noise from the exercise yard is so intense that the rest of the cell block can hear it, too. They’re doing what they usually do, any time someone shows weakness, and because they’re shouting at Chisaki, who’s bought himself a one-way ticket to the protection cell for the next month, no one notices as Tomura sinks down in the corner of his cell and scratches his neck until it bleeds.

six

Somebody’s death sentence gets reduced to life, and the cell next to Tomura’s opens up. Rather than leaving it open, leaving Tomura alone, the guards move fucking Chisaki into it. It’s not bad enough that Tomura has to rot in here until one of his appeals is successful and gets him out of here – he has to listen to Chisaki’s bitching and whining, too. And eventually Chisaki breaks the cardinal rule, the one rule that keeps everybody on death row even sort of sane. He picked up Morse code faster than Tomura did, and one day he taps out a question aimed at Tomura. W-h-a-t d-i-d y-o-u d-o?

He signs off with the last two numbers of his prisoner number, like Tomura’s confused about who’s sending this dumb message. Tomura doesn’t bother with identifying himself by tacking the last two digits of his ID on the front of his response. f-u-c-k o-f-f.

D-i-d y-o-u d-o i-t?

f-u-c-k o-f-f. Not for the first time, Tomura wishes he could all-caps a message without banging on the bars loudly enough to attract the guards’ attention. Morse code really needs a shift key. W-h-a-t d-i-d y-o-u d-o? Y-o-u f-i-r-s-t.

Silence. Of course. Chisaki can dish it out, but he can’t take it for shit. Tomura settles into the quiet, not hoping to enjoy the break so much as get through it without making himself feel worse. Downtime is bad for Tomura these days. He spends too much time thinking. Too much time getting angry. Too much time figuring out how he got here.

He knows Sensei set him up. It had to have been Sensei, because Sensei was in charge of Tomura when Tomura was fifteen, and Sensei kept hinting that Tomura should try to reconcile with his family. Tomura only agreed so Sensei would leave him alone about it. He’d meet them, deal with whatever happened, see if he could talk Hana at least into staying in touch and sending him pictures of Mon, and get out of there. It was going to be a bad night no matter what. At least Sensei agreed to go with him.

But something went wrong. They never made it there, at least not in Tomura’s memory, because Tomura woke up in the hospital. He’d blacked out or passed out or something, and as soon as he was borderline lucid, Sensei gave him the news. Tomura still remembers the weird way he delivered it, like he was telling Tomura they were having something gross for dinner instead of telling him that his entire family had been murdered. Tomura didn’t react the right way, either. He was supposed to meet his family. Now he wasn’t going to. He laid back down and went under again.

They used that, at the trial, seven years later. The fucking prosecutor asked Sensei a bunch of questions about how Tomura responded to the news, and Sensei told them how unsettling it was that Tomura didn’t care at all about his family dying. Tomura’s lawyer wouldn’t let him get on the stand to explain his side. They’ve already decided you’re guilty. Don’t make it worse.

They were going to kill him. Tomura knew that by then. There was no way to make it worse than it was already going to be, and if he was already guilty, he might as well have told the truth. What little of it he remembers.

Chisaki is tapping on the bars again at a pace Tomura couldn’t keep up with if he wanted to. His fingers are too fucking cold. W-e a-r-e-n-t d-i-s-c-u-s-s-i-n-g m-e.

No, they’re not discussing anybody. Tomura’s done with this. Screw the guards – he taps with emphasis. F-U-C-K O-F-F.

“You want to know what he did? I’ll tell you.” Prisoner 113019 laughs from across the hallway – the same one who always laughs when something bad happens to someone else. For the first time since he got here, Tomura prays for the guards to get here fast. “The little rat bastard’s a mass murderer. Greased his entire family.”

Tomura doesn’t know how 19 got ahold of that information, and right now, he doesn’t care. He just wants the guards to get here and shut him up. “His body count is higher than mine, and he won’t even own up to it like a man,” 19 continues, gleeful. “You’ve heard him talking in his sleep. He says he’s innocent.”

“Shut up,” Tomura says. His voice sounds awful, and he realizes all at once that he can’t remember the last time he spoke. It doesn’t matter if he talks now. They’ve only got one protection cell, and 019 is going in it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about –”

“And not only is his count the second-highest on death row,” 019 continues, ignoring Tomura, “he’s a sadist, too. Maybe his family deserved it – they’d have to for raising something like him – but there’s no way his dog had it coming.”

“Shut up!” Tomura explodes. His voice cracks, and he can feel his face contorting, eyes squeezing shut and jaw clenching tight. He’s not going to cry. He can’t cry here. “You stupid fuck. I didn’t do it!”

Death row erupts in laughter, just in time for the guards to arrive. Sure enough, they head to 019’s cell first, but two guards break off to drag Tomura out of his for a talking-to, also known as getting beaten up in places that won’t show. Tomura’s been in here long enough, knows how it works here well enough, to be almost thankful for a reason to feel pain. If anyone sees him, they’ll think his eyes are watering because he just took a baton to the ribs. Not because he misses his dog.

Tomura didn’t mention his family’s deaths to you for a while. He didn’t want to see you react, because he knows how people react to stuff like that – like Tomura’s just a tragic backstory with an ugly face, like everything he is can be described by the worst things that ever happened to him. He didn’t bring up his family, but he mentioned Mon, and you asked. Tomura told himself to answer like a normal person. He ended up crying instead, and you didn’t laugh or look at him differently. You just reached for his hand and –

A blow to the hip knocks Tomura off-balance, just in time for another hit in the stomach to double him over, and Tomura crashes sideways to the floor. He sprawls out, pinned with a guard’s knee on his back, as 019 marches past, flanked by four guards, and still leering down at him. Something snaps in Tomura’s head. He reaches through the guards’ legs, seizes 019’s ankle, and yanks his leg out from underneath him.

The knee grinds harder into his back, knocking the air out of his lungs, but Tomura can barely feel it. He’s trying to pull his hand back, and he’s too slow. Slow enough for a guard to see what he’s doing. Slow enough for the guard to raise one boot and stomp down on Tomura’s hand with all his strength, and for the first time since he set foot on death row, Tomura screams.

[cryptid-killjoy]

Babyface was nodding like yeah what she said.

"Exactly."

He meant it though. He had not come to take her away. He'd gotten in the mind set before he stepped off the boat and he made up his mind when he gave Ellie his parting last words of just in case. He had no intentions of making Mazzie leave. He also had no intentions of making any decisions for Ellie. He was done thinking he knew what was best for anyone. That's what fucked things up.

Once both Ellie confirmed neither one of them were there to try and take her away Mazzie's body language started to relax. She still seemed at the ready, but after realizing zombies were on this island now that made sense to Babyface. He was just glad she started to talk to Ellie even if it wasn't to him right off.

"He's at the control center with the donkeys and our Papas."

Babyface's eyes bugged. "You mean the Coachman survived?"

"I didn't say that."

He glanced over at Ellie unsure what that meant.

"You mean? Honest John and Gideon? They're here?"

"Something like that. You'd be surprised who's here."

Mazzie was still focused on what Ellie said. How things went before. It made her stare at Babyface despite them saying they weren't going to try and make her leave.

"The Coachman's not happy with you. He was ready to give it all to you. He wants to know why we would trust you now?"

"I thought you said he didn't survive?"

"I didn't say that." Mazzie spoke stern and slow.

Babyface looked at Ellie more than once. He wasn't always the quickest on the uptake in these situations, but he understood something strange was going on.

A part of Babyface was hoping this conversation would play out a little differently. He was hoping for more wiggle room before he put all his cards on the table. He wasn't even completely sure he understood what was going on, but he decided he didn't care. He knew he made the decision before stepping foot off that boat. It had been in his head for months. If he ever had a do over, he knew what he would do. Here he was with a real do over.

"Look Mazzie, please. I don't know what the Beagle is going on here. I almost don't care. All I know is I wrecked it right up. I want to stay here with you like before. Just like we talked about. I don't want to be a donkey. I want to be like you. I'll stay. I'll take care of it with you."

He glanced back at Ellie with every other statement.

"You know I loved it here. That part doesn't have to change. What can I do to make it up to the island? I just want to stay with you."

That was the most disarming confrontation Mazzie could have been hit with. Several island boys started to pop up out of the candy woodworks as if the island itself understand the ramifications of the conversation.

"You'd stay?"

The half a dozen or so boys began to line up behind Mazzie. She waved a hand downward to stave them off. The island listened to Mazzie.

"Yes." He looked at Ellie again knowing this time around the boys were some extensions of the magic that was the Coachman's wife embodied in this cursed place. It was knowledge they didn't have the first time.

She looked passed Babyface to Ellie. "Is that why you're here too? You want to stay too?"

Babyface hadn't meant to put Ellie on the spot, but to him this was the only way. It was his only regret in his entire life. He didn't regret pulling the trigger, but he sure did regret fleeing the scene. He was so scared of becoming a donkey he left his crew behind.

Every Beagle for himself. Get out alive. That's all he could think at the time. Hindsight after juvie and seeing his mother made him realize there was another role a Beagle could take that was just admiral to the family. It was why he was in juvie. He took the fall. He was ready to take the fall now.

“It was probably some douchebag boy who was sent here,” Ellie said, resolutely. That, she could believe. There were so many here that were ripe for the taking. The boys that would probably come up with a game like ‘Poke the zombie’. Ten points if you get it’s stomach. Twenty points if you get it’s head.

She had her hand on Babyface’s back, the two of them using one another to steady themselves as they looked up at Maz. The hair was definitely a big change and Ellie thought back to the slumber parties that they had - how fun it would be to do something like that again and be girly and cute and braid each other’s hair now that hers was long enough. But that felt like a part of a Oogie-induced lifetime dream now. Making her yearn, making her nostalgic for something that probably would never happen.

All things considering - Mazzie’s reaction seemed fair from her point of view. They had tried to talk to her and Jax until they were blue in the face about how wrong the situation with the Magic Man was. But no words had been able to convince her. That’s why Babyface had did what he did. It seemed kind of foolish now to expect that just because their lives had changed - they had become street kids in other towns, misplaced, an orphan, losing a whole family - that her mind might have.

“We’re not here to take you away,” Ellie affirmed, with a nod of her head, her blue eyes trying to meet Mazzie’s darker ones. “We’ve just - we’ve been thinking about you. And how things went the last time around. And then there’s been this whole zombie epidemic and we had to leave New Orleans and -” She shrugged with a sigh. “It’s been this whole big thing.”

She looked up at the candy-canes again, that Mazzie had been climbing, and then asked one of the many questions that had a hold on her heart right now.

“Where is Jax?"

[decepti-thots]

☕ ~ trans woman whirl?

I love trans Whirl headcanons but I think I love them for totally different reasons than I usually see, tbh? That is- I think a lot of the time the fandom just goes 'oh! Girl Holoform Spotted! now this character is girl, and we can say character is trans girl because in the comic they are called he/him' and tbh I find that attitude as fandom often implements it annoying for a couple reasons; one, it often feels like a kind of 'if character Looks Like Girl, well, character Is Girl' deal which tbh feels kinda shallow to me ngl, and two, it (and similar under-expanded upon headcanons) not infrequently seems to be a way for the fandom as a whole to justify the general lack of content for the very explicitly canon trans characters by instead being like 'all the material we make for these characters not treated as such in canon proves that we definitely love trans characters. don't think about how lug or anode or arcee don't get that same attention, or that this content only offhandedly actually deals with transness 90% of the time', you know? Bit mean, but I can't help but feel that's a repeated tendency in the fandom, tbh. I would feel less like this if the fanon trans headcanons did not just vaguely go 'oh. also ig they are trans, how nice' with no follow up and instead actually treated these characters as having opinions about being trans, but in too many cases they unfortunately... don't. (And no, them being robots is not an excuse. Anode has opinions on this. Arcee has opinions on this, a lot of them!) But we're here to talk about Whirl, and I want to talk about why I do love trans Whirl, so.

I love trans Whirl for reasons far outside of that, and I think taking that approach to the idea does it a disservice tbqh. Specifically I like trans Whirl for the same reason I like reading Verity as trans, because it adds to Whirl's character arc about being denied agency over identity and clawing it back on purpose in a way where the trans reading feels especially resonant and like it genuinely adds to the overall subtext of her arc. Whirl's entire character is one where the violent removal of agency in her life is so much a focus it changes the course of history; Whirl refusing to let the functionists that ruined her life win is why Elegant Chaos plays out as it does. Whirl is a character whose entire sense of self as a person with the ability to make any choices at all was viciously ripped away from her, and in turn a character whose response to that is to make her ability to choose exactly what she does so utterly undeniable that even if you hate her, even if you think she's repulsive, even if you want to throttle her, you cannot pretend she is not in control. In that specific context, adding in the idea that she would choose her own gender, in defiance of a Cybertronian culture that implicitly treats gender as an alien unwelcome influence, so she can have what she wants- that rules. There's also such a line to be drawn there between Arcee's arc and Whirl, I think, that is so great. That's where I see why it is so good. Being seen as just a gun to be aimed that everyone professes distaste for but still wants to stick around and do dirty work, but you insist upon your interiority being seen as just that; your interiority. And all the things the people who want to do to you which you hate being what you embrace. It's fantastic. I simply prefer that as an angle through which to view the ideas than like... haha well Whirl's holoform is Girl With Guns how funny. You know?

And one of her most "humanising" moments is when she extends that to someone else. I'm thinking of when she tells Tailgate that Cyclonus was lying about his injuries; that part where Cyclonus is trying to protect Tailgate in a way that is ultimately toxic for them both. Sure, everyone else agrees that the best way to handle this is to lie for your own good so you don't make a decision people don't want you to. But that's not fucking fair, and who gets to decide what's "your own good"? Viewing that in light of a Whirl who is not just vaguely a woman but specifically linking that to the way Whirl's rigidly defined role under a functionist heel ruined her sense of identity, because they know what's best for you whether you like it or not- damn, that is COMPELLING. And I find that just. So much more compelling than what fandom so often does with the idea. Whirl, above all else, knows how important demanding agency is. I think that makes Whirl a character ripe for a reading as trans, and I love that for her so much. she'll grab you by the throat and make you acknowledge her. and she's right every step of the way, no matter how much you want to look away. i love her.

tl;dr WHIRL TRANS WOMAN GOOD. LOVE IT. no really i just, it's so good.

[blanceyblance]

On Lance and Keith, and the water/fire and sun/moon dynamics

Saw a post talking about how Lance and Keith are actually more like the other's element and is a really interesting but I found myself disagreeing though I didn't want to argue in OPs post.

I remember there was a part that said that Keith had to mold himself for survival, and, for what I remember, Keith very much does NOT do that.

Someone who molds himself to fit better would have gone into the Garrison to become a model of a perfect cadet, instead Keith is rebellious, and is not afraid of confrontation. He challenges Iverson and fights James and doesn't care if he makes an enemy out of the rest of the other cadets. They don't like it? sucks to suck because he is that good and he knows he is good.

In that same Garrison flashback, Lance actually tells Keith that if Keith keeps messing around he will be stuck as a cargo pilot, Lance tries to follow instructions, molds himself to be a good cadet because that's what is expected for him to be a fighter pilot, only that, things don't go that way, Keith is the one becoming a fighter pilot instead.

Even in his role as Black Paladin, Keith doesn't mold himself as much as he grows into it, like a flame growing to consume space.

Keith is a very straight forward guy, and rarely if ever, tries to hide his feelings, he is very sincere in what he does and means and he does things because he thinks is the best for everyone.

Take leaving the team for the Blades, while I do think he also did it so Lance didn't have to feel left out, I think he also did it so he could go and find more about his origins and himself, making what he thought was the best decision for both the team and himself.

What i'm trying to say is that t I never got the impression that Keith was afraid of showing himself. Just like a fire that doesn't change itself to fit in one place. He can be abrasive and powerful and hurtful like a wildfire and can also be warm and comforting and protective from the harsh circumstances like a fireplace. The presentation is the same, he just needed to learn to channel it better.

And that's why I think Lance had a bone to pick with him, or at least one of the reasons.

The previous description fits Lance to a tee, he can be downright mean and bitchy when he wants but also will give you friendly words and comfort when needed. Just like water can be overpowering and traitorous like the ocean while also bringing life and cleansing.

The thing is that while Keith didn't feel the need to mold for others, Lance does it with a lot of ease.

Being either a friendly welcoming face for the aliens they encounter, an emotional support for his team, a goodball to lift spirits for his friends, or a right hand man to two different leaders.

There is a reason he was usually referred as a jack of all trades just like Blue, not the tankiest or the fastest but it will be hard to find a place he won't be able to fill.

That's also while I support the sun Keith/moon Lance dynamic.

No matter how emo or mysterious he is, Keith shines bright not caring who may end up burning on his path, he is powerful and brilliant and good luck trying to ignore that. He burns but knowing he exists gives you hope for a new day. "He is the future" just like Lance said.

While Lance is the moon, who is always the same but will take on different faces depending the situation, the fact that you can stare directly at him doesn't mean he is letting you see the full picture. He shines in the dark offering guide in hard times but also caring for his team from afar as the resident sniper. Nurturing and kind, always tied to the waters and Earth.

They are still very similar, that's why they are a duo but I still think Keith at his core is fire just like Lance's is water.

And also to spread the Sun Keith/Moon Lance agenda.

[yowumi]

Hotshot surgeon Gojo x Medical Student Reader Ft. Hotshot Surgeon Suguru [ modern au ] TW. Pregnancy & Love Triangle

Shotgun Wedding Ch. 04 | The Proposal

Summary. Satoru Gojo, The states #1 Neurosurgeon, known for his wealthy clan. He was known for his success, parties, and his willingness to fuck anybody and everybody in a 10 mile radius. Unfortunately, one unlucky night, you make the wise decision to do what any hard working young medical student would do when faced with a sexy doctor…you sleep with him in which changes your life forever.

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.

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Warnings. Accidental pregnancy, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), love triangle, roommates (they all live together), satoru is a bit of a meanie, plot twists, angst, smut, you only end up with one.

A/N. this is my first time writing a fanfic, although i’ve always wanted to! i’m always open to take constructive criticism or any tips to make my writing better! I hope you guys enjoy and definitely lemme know if you have any suggestions, read well luv <3

keep up! // ch. 1 // ch. 2 // ch. 3 // ch. 4 // ch. 5 (coming soon)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

“Ah Megumi what a great surprise, it’s been a while since Satoru has dragged you out here” geto jokes, pulling Megumi into a tight hug leaving a pat on his back.

“Yeah unfortunately”

“Hey! I know you love spending time with your older brother!” Satoru pouts while trying to reference himself in which Megumi responds in a disgusted huff,

“He already agreed to come here, no need to torture him too much, Satoru” Suguru closes the door behind you guys finding his way to glide his hand on the small of your back, sending shivers down your spine.

You try and ignore it as you walk into the living room, Suguru guiding you to the kitchen where he has food prepared for laters dinner, which makes you eye ball the delicious food being teased in your face.

Megumi pulls Satoru the side with a small, “We’ve got to talk.” leaving Satoru confused as he follows behind him.

“What’s this all about?” he asks in confusion as they are both now pulled aside.

“I know” He pauses trying to find the words, “I know that you’re the father of the child she’s carrying” He raises his voice a little.

“I figured that much considering you didn’t talk to me nor her for nearly 2 months, I understand you may not like me but it has nothing to do with her” He says, his voice becoming more calm compared to the hyper playful voice he usually kept around Megumi.

“What the hell were you thinking? Knocking her up like that? She deserves better than you, you know you can’t commit to her and give her what she deserves so why the hell would you do it, why?” his voice struggled to stay consistent feeling emotions trying to tear their way out of his throat.

Why was he so upset about this? Why did he care so much who you were with? Why the hell couldn’t he control his emotions.

And it was almost as if Satoru reads his thoughts because his face falls with a new look of realization, he stutters for a moment, “Wait..this isn’t about me, is it? you like her, Megumi…Oh.” He says looking down in guilt.

He cared about you. He cared about Suguru. But Megumi…he took care of Megumi the best way he could as a teenager, seeing the look on Megumi’s face truly made him realize the damage he had inflicted on him.

He would have never done it if he knew Megumi had still loved her.

“This isn’t about me. This is about her and I understand what’s done is done but promise me that you won’t leave her alone with this, promise me you won’t hurt her or fuck around like you do with everything else.” His heart feels heavy, he can’t even keep eye contact.

“Listen…I know i don’t have a good history with relationships and that stuff but I do care about y/n. I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize her happiness, trust me on that.”

Megumi takes a few seconds to process it before slowly nodding, “I think we should head back inside.” He says before walking past him.

MEANWHILE IN THE KITCHEN WITH Y/N & SUGURU:

“So…” You start,

“So!” He says cheerfully, putting his elbows down on the counter in front of you, with an interested expression on his face.

“I actually have a question…it’s about Satoru’s parents.” You say nervously hoping he would give you any tips or warnings on what to expect.

“Well, they’re great people as one would say while talking about one of the most popular and rich families in Tokyo but honestly…They can be a little rough on Satoru, and I wouldn’t take anything they say to heart, They seemed to have had an effect on Satoru’s last girlfriend.” He trails off suddenly not wanting to talk about it at the mention of his last girlfriend.

“What happened to his last girlfriend…?” You didn’t want to push any boundaries but you couldn’t help but feel curious on the sudden change of mood at the mention of her.

“Uh…Well-“ He’s cut off before hearing a rowdy Satoru enter the room excitedly, placing a hand beside you.

“Heyyy so what are we talking about!”

“Oh we were just talking about-“ You are about to say before getting cut off by Suguru, “Oh it’s nothing Satoru, just talking about your parents.” He says.

Satoru looks at you looking for any concern before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Oh don’t worry, they aren’t that bad, just ignore most of what they say and you’ll hold up just fineee” He trails off his words playfully as he picks at the food in front of him, earning a slap on the hand from Suguru causing a wince from him

‘ Knock Knock ‘

A knock that seemed to make the room go dead silent, as if everyone went still knowing who was at the other end of the door, making your nerves rise as your hand begins to shake a little.

Satoru notices this and gives you a pat on the head, “Don’t be nervous, everything will be fine.” He says before opening the door, on the other side stood his parents.

His mother, a woman who aged beautifully, long white hair down to her back waved carelessly in the wind outside and his father, who Satoru must take from, being a spitting image of each other, only his fathers face much older and less peaceful, his father held a serious blunt expression. Making you feel intimidated.

You can see where Satoru gets his good looks from, his parents were both jaw dropping.

His mother walks in as Suguru gives her a hug and friendly kiss on the cheek, “You look not a day over twenty, Ms. Gojo, you amaze me.” He compliments her, causing her to chuckle as she walked towards Megumi in which she asked how the boy was doing.

“How are things Megumi? You know you always have that offer if you’d like to get out of that small apartment of yours.” She says, causing Megumi starting to fail hiding his expressions,

“I think i’m fine with where i’m at, thanks.” He says wanting to move on from the conversation.

Meanwhile, Satoru’s father gave out handshakes to the men, greeting them firmly, almost business like.

Once they had both got to you, they paused. You felt unaware of what to do in the moment, wanting to play it safe, you start up words, “Hello, I’m-“ before being interrupted by Satoru.

“This is my girlfriend Y/n, I thought you should meet her.” He says, making you furrow your eyebrows at him almost offended at the thought of being his girlfriend.

“Girlfriend? You never mentioned a girlfriend before or the times we’ve talked on the phone?” His mother questions suspicious as his father gives you a look of judgement. Suddenly you felt conscious of how you looked and appeared.

“Ah well yes it’s a little new.” He says trying to play it off. You wait for him to mention the part where you are pregnant with his child, yet it never seems to come. Did he really not tell his parents yet?

“Ah well uhm okay, it’s nice to meet you uh, y/n was it?” His mother asks giving you a fake smile as her and her husband shared a look or perhaps, the look.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both Mr. and Mrs. Gojo!” You say trying to give them a friendly smile in which they choose to ignore your presence.

“Well then, i smell food and you know how much I miss Suguru’s cooking, I assume we shall eat now” She says clapping her hands as everyone followed along, Satoru’s father still glaring at you.

At the table, small talk was made about how Satoru’s career was going along with Suguru in which received positive feedback in which everything felt okay until the conversation was brought up about Megumi and the past.

“Oh i remember how skinny and fragile he was, jesus the kid was living in such poverty, thank god his father passed or else he would’ve been stuck eating scraps if it weren’t for Satoru.” She says laughing as she sipped her wine.

The talk of losing his father and how he grew up seemed to cause Megumi to go quiet.

The attention seemed to now be turned towards you as Mr. Gojo finally speaks up for the first time since they’ve sat down, “So y/n, I assume you don’t come from money, correct?” He asks bluntly, taking his fork to carve his meat.

You feel yourself start to become uncomfortable which doesn’t go unnoticed but you decide to answer, “Uh well no i suppose i don’t.” You say looking down at your plate, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“I’m going to be blunt about this, what is it that you’re using my son for? sex? money? or perhaps do you think satoru will raise your status so you could become a surgeon?” He asks crossing his hands over each other.

“Father-“ Satoru starts before his father puts his hand up as a sign for Satoru not to speak,

“Let her speak.” He says and the room became quiet.

You felt offended by what his father was saying. As if money, sex or a title at work would make you want to deal with Satoru on a daily basis. But what boiled your blood more than that was the fact he was asking this only because you didn’t grow up rich.

“None of the Above.” You state, the boil in your blood causing a sudden rise of confidence.

“Oh no need to be humble darling. Just tell me what you want from him or our family and you can get it now rather than distracting my son.” He says leaning back in his seat.

“I am telling the honest truth, I don’t want his money or his-“ You get cut off by Satoru. “Okay dad I think that’s enough interrogating, He’s just joking-“ Satoru says trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m asking an honest question and I would like it if you’d stop interrupting her, Satoru.” He says, almost as a warning as you see Satoru’s change in emotion at the mention of his father saying his name.

“Listen, I don’t want shit to do with your money or using Satoru as anything, Id appreciate it if you stopped accusing me of this bullfuckery” You blurt letting your hormones getting the best of you…or perhaps your temper.

“Tell your whore to watch her mouth.” His mother commented causing your blood to boil as you got up from your chair, Satoru rushing to hold you back, “The fuck did you just say?” You said heated.

In the corner of your eye you can see Megumi with a surprised yet slightly amused expression at the sight of someone standing up towards the Gojo’s.

“I think we should all just calm down, okay?” He says looking at everyone.

“Get your whore a leash and a muzzle while you’re at it. How dare you let her speak to your mother that way!” Satoru’s mom says sipping her glass on wine carelessly.

“Oh i can say a lot worst-“ You say before satoru pulls you back cautiously so he won’t hurt you standing between you and his mother.

“I demand you to leave this woman at once.”

“I can’t do that mother.” He says trying to avoid eye contact.

“Oh sure you can, you can do much better than this whore with a mouth on her!” His mother starts to raise her voice.

“You don’t understand mother, I am not leaving y/n and that is final.” He says and his mother grows furious.

“Oh enlighten me! what’s so special about this woman, because you two haven’t interacted with each other all night so don’t bullshit me that you two are in love.” She yells.

“I- I-“ He stutters wondering if he should just say it. He looks at you looking at how furious and offended you were and the disappointed look on Suguru’s face across the table. “y/n is pregnant.” He says.

His mother seems to not understand as she goes on, “So? You don’t need to take on charity cases-“ She gets interrupted by Satoru who blurts out, “No mother, the baby is mine. I got her pregnant!”

His father’s eyes widen before him and Mrs. Gojo look at each other, them both deciding to stand up.

“Satoru. A word. Now.” His father demands as he walks out of the room, his mother trailing behind him as Satoru looks worried down at you before following his parents.

From the dining table you could hear the faint sounds of yelling and arguing coming from Satoru’s office causing a sudden guilt to fill your stomach, this all felt like so much. You needed fresh air.

You walked out of the room going outside to the snow as you lay on the ground, slowly making a snow angel. Something so childish yet comforting in the moment. You couldn’t quite figure out what about this action made you feel so warm yet you were in the cold.

“I can go-“ Suguru says before trying to follow after you outside before Megumi Interrupts, “I’ve got this one, thanks” He says as Suguru respects that as he begins to clean up the table.

You hear the door close in which you see moments later a familiar black haired man in front of you, hands in his pockets before settling down on the ground next to you, laying still compared to you who was making motions in order to make a snow angel.

“I have a question for you.”

“What?” You asked confused as Megumi isn’t typically the type to ask questions so suddenly.

“Are you happy?” He asks concerned, looking at you in the corner of his eye.

“I mean considering what just happened moments ago, i wouldn’t exactly say i’m too-“

“You know that isn’t what I mean.” He says firmly. You sigh, “Yeah, I know.”

You take a few moments to let the silence take up space as you think about his question.

“I don’t think it matters if I am”

“I think it does, you should be able to choose what life you want to live.”

“I have to do what’s best for this baby, if i chose how to live based on my emotions, I wouldn’t be having this baby. Don’t you think i’m scared? Scared of being a mother, scared of being something that i’m not even familiar with.” You say, a tear breaking its way out of your eye causing you to sniffle a little.

Megumi seems to understand now, “I understand. But just give me the word and i promise i will pick you up from this dump and you can leave it all behind” He says, casually calling Satoru’s million dollar mansion a dump, causing a small choked up laugh to come out of you making a small smile appear on megumi’s lips.

Surprisingly, Megumi’s hand find its way to yours. An act of comfort.

Megumi is suddenly filled with the slight hint of nostalgia having an old feeling hit him hard, making him remember.

MEGUMI POV SWITCH: 7 YEARS AGO

‘ knock knock ‘

he hears the frantic knocking coming from the door, knowing exactly who it was. he opened the door expecting to see her but there was no one there.

he walked out expecting you to have forgot something from your car or for you to be hiding yet no sign before suddenly being hit by a snowball right in the chest, his gaze turned towards y/n, his next door neighbor and best friend.

“gotcha!” he watched her laugh as she ran away as he walked behind her, her keeping a slow enough pace for him to see where she was going yet not slow enough for him to catch up.

she finally stopped in her tracks, tumbling down on the floor with a ‘thump. her body motioned back and forth attempting to create a snow angel as she laughed.

he would watch in awe before she grabbed a hand out to him encouraging him to join her, in which he didn’t refuse.

“cmon!” she dragged him down in a hurry, “okay okay” he says falling down on the floor next to her as the sound of her giggles filled the air, him listening silently.

she turned to look at him, in which she she smiled up at him as he laid down next to her,

“hey”

“hi”

a few words could be spoken between you two yet he always felt so comfortable and used to your company.

“I don’t ever want to grow up” she suddenly admitted.

“why?” he asked suddenly curious of her unfamiliar change of mood and speech.

“because then you’ll be all grown and won’t want to hang out with me” she said jokingly yet her eyes seemed to express an almost worried expression. was she worried he would forget about her?

“you don’t have to worry about that.” he stated.

“why not?” her gaze suddenly turning towards him, the simple act of looking at him so innocently suddenly made his heart heavy,

“you can stay with me however long you’d like.” he says reverting his eyes fully towards her , looking at her straight in the eyes.

a moment that felt like forever passed before the sudden feeling of her lips were felt against his. he takes a few moments to process it before cupping her face gently pulling her into the kiss.

it wasn’t long before the heat between the two teenagers got heated, them both now retreated to the treehouse they built as kids that was near their previous snow angel spot, him now on top of her.

as they kissed he felt the warmth of her clothed cunt grinding against his knee that laid comfortably between her legs. he watches with a shaky breath before breaking the kiss.

“what’s wrong?” she asked trying to catch her break

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asked showing concern for any discomfort or second thoughts she might have.

“i’m sure megumi. I want my first time to be with you.” she said bringing a warm hand up to his cold cheek.

his hand travels down to your thigh as his breath hitches. he takes off his big jacket and puts it beneath her on the floor to make things more comfortable for you.

she began to strip in front of him, his gaze never leaving her eyes before she finally finish, allowing him to avert his eyes down her body, thinking that if perfection was anyone, it would be her.

he trailed soft loving kisses down your body, admiring and touching you like you were art, a beauty that should be praised and admired.

he felt that in that moment, nothing else had mattered. it was only you and him.

afterwards you two were left next to each other comfortably as he held you in his arms, an act he dreamed of doing for the longest.

“what you were saying earlier, i wanted to tell you that you don’t have to worry about me forgetting you because i will spend the rest of my life by your side.” he said feeling confident in finally exposing his true feelings towards you.

you took a few moments before you gave him a soft smile, “thank you megumi, i couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

friend

friend?

friend.

his heart dropped, he felt as if it had been stomped on. after taking her virginity just moments ago, after spending years by your side, as you laughed, cried, sobbed, smiled, it felt like a brick was just brought down on his heart.

THE PRESENT:

Megumi is brought back to the present after reliving the memory in his head. he’s now aware of his surroundings, wondering how he could be so close to you, holding hands with someone would be considered such an intimate act yet he felt so far away from you. As if he could never, would never break that infinite barrier that separates the two of you. A world he could see but never enter. A wet painting he could see but never touch.

he’s interrupted by Suguru who suddenly walks outside causing you both to separate hands.

“They’re done talking and asking for you, id ask that you come inside if you will” He says in the calm voice he always kept.

When you both make your way inside and the mood has changed drastically, the air felt heavy as you now saw Satoru sitting silently across the table looking down, not saying a word nor acknowledging your presence at all.

“We have came to an arrangement in which you have two options.” Mr. Gojo speaks once again,

“As you know the Gojo is a class name and our reputation to the public is very important, it helps us keep our status and remain a good name. See now having the newspaper say ‘Gojo Clans’ and Tokyo’s beloved top neurosurgeon Satoru Gojo knocks up young intern’ doesn’t exactly hold up a good reputation, but ‘Satoru Gojo’s new fiancé seemed to have been getting quite busy with a baby on the way’ seems very more delightful.” He says making your eyes widen in shock of his words, he didn’t seriously think you would agree to marry Satoru, did he?

“and the other?” You ask considering your options.

“The other option is that you can get an abortion and we will pay you 5 million up front to keep your mouth shut and disappear from Satoru’s life, it will all be on the low.”

You felt trapped, abortion wasn’t an option. You chose to have this baby and you want to stick with that choice. Yet marrying Satoru felt like a nightmare, you never even considered marriage let alone with Satoru.

Before you could find the words to speak you hear Suguru speak up, “Listen Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, you guys are respectable people and I wouldn’t go against your beliefs but-“ He states before being interrupted by Satoru’s mother.

“So then don’t.” She bluntly says, glaring at him.

He stops for a moment before starting up again, “I believe this is a decision she needs to make on her own and is something her and Satoru should talk over, they are both young and no offense but times are different now and i don’t believe marriage is necessary as Ms. Y/n is only 2 months in her term, a lot can happen from now to then.” he waited for a response,

“Suguru Geto, you’re parents would agree with this just as much and you know that. This simply will be for business, If some skank decided to get my son into this situation then she should learn the consequences” Satoru’s fathed spoke.

Suguru takes a few moments trying to collect himself the best he can, you began to become nervous not knowing how to answer mumbling a bit trying to stutter out an answer before Suguru interrupts you,

“Don’t worry about it y/n, I believe their stay here has been extended, I would kindly ask you two to leave” He says getting up to get ready to greet them out as the Gojo’s agree, leading themselves out before his father stops.

He places a hand on Satoru’s shoulder trying to say goodbye in his own way before Satoru pulled away from his hand.

“Don’t act out son. You’re lucky we aren’t doing to her what we did to your last girlfriend.” He finishes and makes his way out the door.

Megumi stands silently for a few moments before seeing his way out, waving you a goodbye before heading out. His phone dialing a number waiting for a number to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I need you to pick me up” Megumi speaks from over the phone.

“Sure! is everything alright fushiguro?”

“Yeah…” He stays silent for a few moments thinking, “Actually, are you free tonight?” He asks

“Yeah! why?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to get some drinks”

“Sure! Should i invite everyone?”

“I think i’d like it if it were just me and you.” Megumi says suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Okay if you say so!”

“Okay, i’ll see you then…thanks itadori.” He says before hanging up.

-

Satoru and you sat in silence for a few minutes, crossing your arms waiting for a response out of him. After a while you realize he just wasn’t gonna say anything so you finally speak, letting anger take over you,

“What the fuck, Satoru.”

He looks up at you but doesn’t respond, he just stares emotionless at you.

“Don’t just sit there! Say something! you couldn’t even say anything while they were sitting there calling me a skank and whore all night, so please enlighten me with your fucking words.” You feel tears trying to make their way out of your eyes but you wont let them.

He pauses before looking back down at his lap, “Are you sure you want to keep our baby”

You huff in disbelief of his words, there’s no way he could seriously be considering that.

“What, are you having second thoughts? having second thoughts now at the thought of marrying me? You aren’t scared of becoming a father but you’re scared of the thought of marrying me, god fuck satoru!” You shouted at him feelings tears fall down your face.

He doesn’t say anything before excusing himself from the table as he walked into his office, locking the door behind him.

Suguru walks in to you with your hands on your knees as you quietly sobbed on the floor, he rushes towards you pulling his arms over you in a hug as tears spilled even more.

You look up at him with teary eyes as he cups your face gently pulling you into him. You try to form words but they don’t come out and Suguru notices this as he spoke gentle words, “It’s okay, I know.” His words came out softly against your ear as he held you.

Your gaze turns towards him, looking up at him as you stare at each other for what felt like forever before you did the unspeakable.

You kissed him.

You hadn’t known why you did so, in the moment it felt so right. And with that, he returned it, he kissed you back passionately before the maid walked in, her stepping back trying to pretend she didn’t see anything before Suguru pulls away.

“Let’s take you to bed, a lot has happened today. I think we all need rest tonight.” He says helping you up offering you a kind smile as he helped you walk to your room.

He leads you to your room before letting you enter yourself before wishing you goodnight as he looked away.

The kiss you shared just before had felt so right yet somehow now things felt so awkward as you laid in bed silently as you thought over the fact that you kissed Suguru in the middle of a breakdown which now made you feel a bit embarrassed.

You began to shut your eyes, choosing not to dwell on it too much as you already had a long night deciding to try and get rest.

Or atleast you try to do before you hear the door open, you figure it may be the maid who forgot something in your room as it’s happened before, an honest mistake so you carry on with your sleep, keeping your eyes shut.

That is until you hear someone sit on the bed next to you placing a hand on your hair, brushing it gently. You don’t dare to make a sound or look who it is, you figured it may have still been the maid checking on you.

A careful arm hugs over your body barely before hearing a whisper “I’m sorry.” the familiar voice of Satoru Gojo fills your ears as you still pretend to be asleep. He presses a soft kiss to your stomach before leaving the room.

The room suddenly felt empty, cold. The interaction was so short, so little yet you found yourself missing the warmth of his hand against your stomach.

.

.

.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

A/N. this chapter has by far been my favorite one i’ve written, and the fastest yet longest one i’ve written so far. (I spent my whole thanksgiving righting this up LMAO, who needs to cook a turkey when I can cook up a new SGW chapter!!) I already had an idea for this chapter knowing that i wanted this to be the chapter where reader meets Satoru’s parents and their marriage would be arranged but I changed a lot of things and I honestly like how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy and Reblogs and Asks are appreciated! happy holidays luvs <3

let me know if you guys would like to be added to the tag list for ‘Shotgun Wedding’ updates!

tags: @jeannieboys @maskedpacific @muimuiwisteria @baileebear

[doumadono]

Are you going to look for a new hubby and let the past die with Dabi? I can't understand why people are so angry, he was just a fictional character after all 🤷🏻

CAUTION: A LONG RANT

I need to start by admitting something: I used to think manga was a thing for teenagers, a phase that people would grow out of eventually. For years, I dismissed it without giving it a proper chance. But almost two years ago, I let my curiosity win, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Upon discovering My Hero Academia, I found myself diving headfirst into a world of characters, stories, and emotions that were far more layered and meaningful than I ever expected.

At first, Bakugo caught my attention. His abrasive personality and explosive demeanor were off-putting to some, but to me, he was fascinating. Here was someone with an undeniable drive, someone who never gave up no matter how many obstacles stood in his way. His goal-oriented nature and resilience resonated with me, even if he was rough around the edges. But then… Dabi entered the spotlight, and everything changed.

Falling for Dabi felt like a natural process, something that happened without me even realizing it. I’ve always had a soft spot for villains — for as long as I can remember, they’ve been the characters I gravitated toward. There’s something about their complexity, their pain, and the choices they make that intrigues me. So, it was inevitable that I would become a fan of both Dabi and Shigaraki. But with Dabi, it was different. I never knew it was possible to care for a fictional character as much as I came to care for him.

Dabi’s story was heartbreaking yet captivating, it was so complex that you were always curious what will happen next. His resilience, the way he carried himself with an air of defiance, even as his world crumbled around him. He wasn’t just a character; he was a mirror reflecting the struggles and scars of anyone who’s ever felt broken.

During some of the hardest times in my life, reading the chapters where he and the League of Villains appeared became a source of comfort and hope. Somehow, their presence was a mood lifter, a reminder that even in the face of darkness, there’s a fire that can keep burning. For that, I’ll always be grateful.

When I read the chapter where the words “slowly heading to death” were uttered, I had a sinking feeling in my chest. Deep down, I knew this would be his fate. As much as I hoped for the best, as much as I wanted Horikoshi to surprise us with a different outcome, a part of me braced for what felt inevitable. And when the confirmation came, it hurt more than I can put into words. I cried a river of tears for him. Not just for Dabi but for everything he represented to me. It felt like losing a close friend, someone who had been there for me through so much, even if only on the pages of a story.

If Dabi’s death is reduced to something that happens off-panel, during a time skip, then I can’t express how deeply disappointing and infuriating that would be. For a character as complex and integral as Dabi, such an abrupt dismissal would be a slap in the face to fans who invested so much in his journey. I wanted — no, needed — to see the aftermath of his passing, especially within the Todoroki family. That dynamic deserved to be explored. How did Endeavor, a character I admittedly like despite acknowledging his horrific history of domestic abuse and neglect, process the loss of his firstborn son? A son he irreparably broke, whether he wants to admit it or not.

And Rei — God, Rei. She was a mother forced to endure the unimaginable pain of losing her child not once, but twice. As someone who has lost a child myself, I know the soul-deep agony of such loss. It’s a pain that never leaves you, a sharp, searing blade that carves out a permanent hollow in your heart. To see Rei’s perspective, her grief, and her struggle to reconcile that pain, would have added so much depth and emotional weight to the story.

These are the nuances that could have made the Todoroki family saga feel complete — an honest portrayal of love, regret, and reconciliation in the wake of unbearable loss. But given how Horikoshi has treated the Todoroki family so far, I have no faith that we’ll ever get that closure. His tendency to sideline emotional arcs and sweep unresolved character threads under the rug is beyond frustrating. It’s like Horikoshi’s become the Thanos of his own creation, snapping away characters and narratives he can no longer be bothered to handle.

To me, Dabi was one of the most complex characters in My Hero Academia, second only to Shigaraki. The decision to deny him a proper redemption arc felt like a betrayal, a bitter reminder that sometimes, even the best stories don’t give you the closure you hope for. Horikoshi’s handling of Dabi’s arc — giving fans glimmers of hope only to snatch them away — was, frankly, cruel. Killing him off after dangling the possibility of survival was, in my opinion, a failure to fully explore the depth of the character he had created.

But even now, I know I’ll never stop loving Dabi — or the League of Villains as a whole. They brought so much light into some of my darkest moments. They reminded me of the beauty in imperfection, the strength in perseverance, and the power of standing your ground even when the world is against you.

In my mind, Dabi is safe. He’s happy. He’s finally found the peace and love he deserved, and no one can take that from me. The same goes for Shigaraki. To me, they have the happy ending they were robbed of in canon. That’s the reality I choose to believe in, and it’s a reality I’ll continue to write for.

So no, I’m not “moving on” or “finding a new favorite.” A dedicated fan doesn’t abandon their muse, even in death. Dabi, Shigaraki, and the League will always have a place in my heart, and I’ll continue to celebrate them through my writing. In my head and in my stories, they live on — free, loved, and content. And that’s how it will always be.

[awriterinthenight]

"I Think I Love You More"-Five Hargreeves

requested: anonymous

words: 1769

warnings: swearing, Klaus being weird and just himself, that's it

summary: While planning a birthday party for the Hargreeves siblings with Lila, you don't know what to get Five, until you think of the perfect gift

In most families birthdays were usually celebrated with parties, balloons, cake, and presents. Unless you were one of the Hargreeves siblings, in that case birthdays were just another day.

You and Lila were both shocked to hear that none of the siblings ever had a true birthday. Luther was always busy with his dad or a mission, Diego was apparently "too manly" to celebrate, Allison did celebrate her birthday with Claire and Patrick, but it was never the same as a real birthday party, Klaus was...well Klaus, Five was stuck in the apocalypse for most of his life, Ben died young never experiencing one, and Viktor was always saddened when the day came around. This meant you and Lila had to take things into your own hands and give them the best birthday ever.

"Should we do it in the house, or rent a place?" you asked Lila, as you two sat on the couch a notebook in front of both of you to plan out details.

"If we rent somewhere it'll have the crappy birthday feel, but nothing beats a questionable house party with even worse decoration," she said, scribbling down your decision.

You two continued to talk and work out details, and in the midst of your planning you didn't see Diego and Five sneak up behind you two, "Their scheming something, this can't be good," Diego said, making the post of you close your notebooks and jump from being startled.

"When one is involved it's never good, but the both of them together might cause the end of the world," Five joked, standing behind you on the couch, "What are you doing anyway?" he asked, his tone was softer when he talked to you, and he was much less arrogant too.

You shrugged trying to act normal, "Nothing, me and Lila were just talking," you said, gaining a bit of courage to ask your next question, "You're guy's birthday is coming up right, is there anything you would want?"

Diego being who he was spoke up first, since you tried to phrase the question to both of them, but also more pointedly at Five, but Diego isn't the brightest crayon, "Personally I would like for you to stop eating all the damn cookies," he complained.

"I'll take it into consideration," you said, definitely not going to stop eating the cookies, "What about you?" you asked, turning towards Five, noticing how he was missing his signature watch he always wore.

"Nothing really, never really got anything ever, so it really doesn't matter," he said with a shrug. That was just so helpful, I'm being sarcastic can you tell, or is it that obvious?

"Oh," you said, a bit surprised at his answer, "Okay, then."

Once Five and Diego left, Lila went out to pick up some things for the surprise party, leaving you to ponder why you had to like the most annoying Hargreeves sibling. It was nothing truly against him, more that he was impossible to shop for, and him saying you didn't have to get him something made it even harder. But lucky for you, you ran into your favorite Hargreeves sibling.

"Hey Klaus, what do you think your brother would want for his birthday?" you asked, optimistic that he could help you.

Klaus' interest seemed to have been piqued by your question, "Hmm, with Five he could want anything from a lobotomy to old grandpa clothes," he said, being of no help.

You let out a long breath, "Unless you have any actual suggestion, thanks for wasting my time," you muttered, as you started to walk away from him.

"Wait," Klaus said, stopping you, "Just get him something practical that he'll like. Or, hear me out here, give him, yourself," he said, raising his eyebrows weirdly, putting his hands out in front of him.

"I'm sorry w-what," you stuttered, confused as to what he was saying.

"Oh, don't act all oblivious. It's so obvious you two are in love with each other. I mean it's agony to watch you two," he explained, laughing while he talked.

You tried to hide the look of shock on your face, was it really that obvious. "T-that's just...that isn't, we aren't," you stuttered out, frustrated with yourself for being so flustered by the mention of your small (massive) crush on Five.

Klaus let out a hearty laugh at your flustered state, "You are so in love with him it's crazy. Seriously you could give him anything and he would love it. By the way what are you getting me?" he asked, batting his lashes and acting dramatic.

"Something from a lobotomy to drugs," you said, annoyed at his antics.

He just giggled like the insane person he was, "Well, I bet it will be nowhere near as good as Five's gift," he said, now getting on your nerves.

You let out a sigh, walking away from Klaus, since you were not winning that conversation. You'd spent the next half hour trying to figure out what to get Five, but had come up with nothing so far. Fortunately you seemed to grow a brain cell and knew exactly what to get him. You immediately ran up to Klaus' room, since you were going to need a bit of help.

"Hey Klaus, how willing do you think Ben would be to help me with a little scheme?"

***

It was the day of the party, Lila had taken the siblings out to lunch to keep them away from the house while you and Pogo decorated the house. You had balloons, streamers, birthday hats, a pinata, and even a decent tasting birthday cake. It was, as Lila called it, all the essentials for a shit-tastic party. All the gifts were in a pile, except for your gift to Five since you wanted to give it to him personally.

You saw them enter the front door and into the living room, "Surprise," you said, smiling while using one of the party blowers (yes I had to look up what it was called, and yes that's what they're actually called apparently).

Everyone was surprised you and Lila had put together a whole party for them, but was excited to start celebrating. Everyone had put on party hats, especially Klaus who had 4 on his head, and had cracked open the champagne Lila bought.

The party went on for a few hours with music, cake, playing classic party games, and even everyone opening their gifts from you and Lila. However one person did notice a certain someone's gift to him wasn't in the pile.

"So what did you get me?" Five asked, now that the party was winding down and everyone was doing their own thing.

"What makes you think I got you something?" you said, crossing your arms, "You said not to get you anything."

He smiled at you, "I know you, darling, I know you got me something."

You let out a long breath, "Maybe I did," you said, uncrossing your arms, "But in my defense you're hard to shop for, so please don't hate it."

"I promise I won't," He said, excited to see what you got him.

You held the small box behind your back, "Close your eyes, and hold out your hands," you said, and he followed just as you directed. You placed the box in his hands and waited anxiously for him to open his eyes.

When he opened his eyes he looked at the box before opening it. Inside the box was a simple watch with a leather band.

"You got me a watch," he said, looking up at you through his lashes.

You couldn't tell if he was disappointed or surprised about the gift so you tried to play it off, "I-I just noticed your usual one was missing, and I remembered you said something about it being broken, so I just thought you could use a new one. I hope you like it," you rambled, not noticing how he was looking closer at the watch.

"F.H.," he said, running his finger over the initials, "And are those..."

You were nervous as to what he would think about this part of the watch, "My initials. I just thought it would be more personal if I added it. I can probably get it removed if you don't like it, but-" you once again rambled before getting cut off.

"Who said I didn't like it?" he said, once again looking at you like you were everything to him.

"Oh, I just, I didn't know how you would react so I didn't know if you would like it, sorry," you said anxiously.

He took a step closer to you, barely inches apart now, "This must've been expensive, how did you afford it?" he questioned, shocked that you would get him something so nice, and also trying to fight his urge to kiss you right then and there for it.

You swayed a bit, still nervous, "Actually I had it customized, then had Klaus have Ben steal it for me," you told him, explaining the heist you pulled earlier.

He let out a small laugh, something that was very uncommon for him, "So you customized a watch for me, then had a ghost steal it for me, and you threw an amazing party?"

"Yes, that's basically the whole story. I know it sounds crazy, but you know your family," you joked nervously.

Five smiled, looking at you once again, "I don't know what I love more, you or the watch," he confessed.

You were flustered by his confession, "I- y-you, love me?" you questioned, since you thought that he didn't love you back.

"Of course I do," he said, leaning in closer to you.

"Well, I love you too," you confessed, leaning in closer till your lips touched. Your first kiss was soft, but once you pulled away Five pulled you back in. This time the kiss was more passionate.

"I think I love you more," he said in-between kisses, making you laugh softly at his antics.

You two were so enthralled with each other, that you didn't notice Klaus celebrating in the back. Klaus had been so excited that his plan to get the two of you together worked. He had distracted Five and "accidentally" broke his watch. Since he knew you were very observant, he knew you would notice, get him a watch, but would personalize it, then Five would realise how in love you were with him, and would lead us to this point. Klaus was a real mastermind when it came to playing cupid.

Current Taglist for all fics (ask to be added)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @sarahskywalker-amidala @atashiboba @that1deerpersondownstairs @herondale-lightworm

[justevelynnnn]

Magic🍃

Summary: Scott has a headache so you offer him something w/ “magic” to help

Content: Scott summers x Mutant!Fem Reader

Warnings: mentioning of weed infused brownies and them being consumed & a couple of swears…

A/N: I got this idea from somewhere but I can’t remember where…it was on here actually and I was like omg I have to write this ! Ugh I love him so much….

You and Rogue made “brownies” while everyone was gone earlier. Gambit also tried to help but kept messing up so Rogue kicked him out however, he was invited to try a piece still when they were done. It was you three’s secret even though Xavier himself literally already knew, he just didn’t say anything. As long as you guys were responsible he supposed.

But it was others you worried about. Like Wolverine who probably would huff them up in minutes or Beast who’d lecture you for hours about the negative effects. Or…Scott.

The leader made it clear he was a by the book guy. Neat, serious, a rule follower ….whatever. Point was, he didn’t play games. So recreational usage ? Yeah, no. Nope.

You hide the rest in the oven since no one really cooked in there anyways and went back outside. Rogue and Gambit went off somewhere and you wanted to enjoy some outdoor air while these brownies kick in. You spent alot of time out there especially as a result of your mutation. Your powers allowed you to control all things nature. You could move water at will, control wind (but not as good as storm can), grow plants quickly and more. You loved all things nature related especially things you can use in your day to day life like herbal medicines. Or growing tea leaves to drink or even coffee beans.

You were also really into growing weed.

You knew not to get too high especially when important missions were coming up or when you knew a meeting would take place later on so only during your guaranteed free time did you try anything. Rogue caught you once but was really chill about it so now sometimes she gets high with you. But no one else. It was risky doing it but it really helped calm your nerves. Plus, Logan smoked and drank all day long so was it really that bad?

Once outside though, you see your beloved leader sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. He’s muttering something odd. Concerned, you go over to him. Maybe it’s because off the edible that he seems this way? He’s mumbling gibberish. His energy is off. Really off. You just hope that he can’t see how there’s a tint of red in your eyes.

“Hey…Scott? Youuuu okay?” you ask. You lift a hand to touch him but he suddenly looks up at you a bit, startled like he didn’t hear you approaching, which caused you to bring your hand back quickly.

“M’fine.” He says, almost in a groan. He puts his head back down and asks, “Did you need anything?”

“No..just…checking in you?” You don’t know why it came out as a question.

He says nothing.

It’s awkward for a second or two as you just stand there. It hits you that this may be one of his headache episodes Jean told you about. You felt bad for him. You wanted to stay but you get the feeling he wants you to fuck off.

He just groans again, probably in annoyance that you’re still here. It was very unlike him to act like this. This is the first time you’ve seen him in such a, pained, awkward state.

It hurt even more because he was secretly your..crush? You guess that’s the best way to describe it. It wasn’t crazy. Maybe you just admired him a lot as a strong leader. Maybe it was his good looks…. maybe. You just hoped it was a phase. It didn’t help him and Jean have a complicated relationship thing going on that he seemed more attentive to rather than looking for someone new to replace her.

You get an idea. It may be crazy but you didn’t know what else to do. Plus, you were a bit high so your decision making was a bit wonky. You rush inside the mansion and b line to the oven. You grab half a brownie and a bottle of water from the fridge. As you walk back outside you see Scott’s hands caught in his hair. It definitely seems like he’s getting worse. You hoped he accept this and not scold you and kick you off the freaking team or something.

“Hey…um, I brought you something…” You say, sitting next to him.

He lifts his head again and looks in your hands. “Water and….a brownie…?”

He says it low, like he almost was thinking out loud. He’s clearly confused.

“It..um..it has something in it that I think will help you…”

His hands are in his lap now and he’s just staring at you. His gaze feels strong for some reason even though he has the visor on.

He looks back in your hand and gently takes the brownie from you. You watch him slowly take a bite of the brownie, almost like he’s skeptical.. or maybe he is.

“It’s good, but how will this help?” Scott looks back at the ground as he finished the brownie. You almost feel guilty. You play with the bottle in your hand nervously as you think on whether you want to tell him or not. You’re scared of the possibility of him lashing out that you just secretly fed him cannabis.

It’s a couple of seconds before you answer. “They’re justtt, special.”

“Special how?”

“There’s something inside that will help you relax….”

Silence.

“….But, how?”

The question come out a bit sharp, you assume he wants a straight answer but also wonder how he can’t get the hint or has no idea seemingly. You can’t blame him though, why would he suspect a team member to be in possession of weed?

You sigh as you prepare for the worst.

“They have… weed inside.”

Scott slowly turns his head at you. He’s smiling weird. You accidentally clench the water bottle and out the corner of your eye you see some plants move around you two.

“…..What.”

You just stare nervously at his blank smile. You can’t ever really read him or his expressions sometimes but he’s definitely annoyed. Probably mad. Hopefully not furious. Definitely not happy.

It spills out of you. “I’m…I’m so sorry! I just wanted to help you and I know you hate weed and drugs and all that stuff but you looked like you were in so much pain and I just wanted to help and I know I might get kicked off the team but-”

“Hey.”

You stop. You feel a tear slipping from your eye.

“It’s okay.”

Your mouth drops. “W-what?”

“It’s fine. It’s not posion.”

You’re still frozen as Scott grabs the bottle. He’s…okay? Maybe you had too much of the brownies earlier….

“You’re…okay..? But, you hate weed! You said you-”

“I know.” He takes a weirdly large gulp of water. “But you had good intentions. So it’s fine.”

You’re still in shock from his nonchalance. Maybe he’s gonna yell later. Maybe he didn’t really understand that you just gave him a drug that he’s made so clear in the past that he hates.

He finished the water bottle quickly and just lazily throws it behind him. Okay, this may not be Scott. This might be Mystique. Or you’re hallucinating.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Or even, Scott…?”

He laughs at this but quickly winces. “Yes, I’m Scott. It’s just my head is making it hard to care about much right now.”

“Soooo, I’m not in trouble?”

“Professor knows about your sneaky behaviors already, y/n. Did you forget he can read minds? See through walls?” Shit.

You look down sighing. “Nothing gets past him. Seriously.”

“Nope.” Scott leans back on his hands. “But since he’s okay with it, so am I. Plus, Rogue told me last week.”

“Ughhhhh!” Embarrassed you put your head in your hands. Or course, Xavier & Scott knew. How could you be so dumb?

“So, when do these kick in? Sure could use it right now….” Scott looks at you smiling again. He’s amused at your embarrassment.

“It takes awhile…maybe another 40 minutes…?” You say looking away. You can’t look him in the eyes or, well, eye right now.

He laughs again. He believes it’s a placebo that’s making it seem like his headache is fading already because normally he wouldn’t be able to even move right now.

“Y’know…you’re kinda cute flustered..”

He says it so quiet you almost don’t hear it. Shocked you look back at him.

“What? Cute?”

He just nods and goes back to looking ahead at the garden in front of you two. Still shocked you just stare at him for a bit and then look at your feet. Your heart is beating quicker now and okay, why is your face heating up? You’re starting to think this is more than just a crush at this point. Not when everything he does make you feel like this.

You two sit and enjoy the sunset in silence as Scott noticeably relaxes more and more. It was only about 3mg so he shouldn’t be too affected. Just enough. He’s slouched on the bench now, it’s honestly a very rare sight to see him slouched…well, anywhere. He’s smiling at nothing again. You look at him as you literally watch him enjoy his first high. His red visor of course hides his eyes but you imagine they’re red now like yours. Deep down you’re just glad you could help him and his pain ease. And you’re a lot happy that you’re not getting expelled from the school.

Flowers grow at your feet as you just stare at him, heart fluttering. The soft warm light shined on his blissed out face, making him glow beautifully. You notice his relaxed strong arms and his soft pink lips and now tinted pink cheeks. He turns his head slowly to you like earlier except more relaxed. His dorky smile in full view now makes your heart skip a beat and you face heats up more. The flowers grow taller and there’s a slight breeze.

“Y’knowwww? You’re reallyyyy pretty…and kind….i like you, y/n…” He says it slow with that same smile.

You struggle to respond with anything more than, “Thanks, Scott…” because oh my god?!? Holy shit?? Scott Summers just said he thinks you’re pretty. This evening couldn’t get anymore magical.

You spent the rest of the evening watching the sunset with him as he laid a head on your shoulder. High Scott was quiet but definitely more laid back and more open. You enjoyed it a lot. And when it got fully dark you helped guide him back inside just to sit on the couch and enjoy each others company once more.

[greenfiend]

@beso194

Okay your wish is my command!

Stripped

This is a song about intimacy and sharing your true self. I find it SO fitting because of the following reasons:

The dark undertones. It sounds creepy as hell at times. "Stripped down to the bone" almost sounds gory.

The sexual undertones: it's called "Stripped" after all. ST5 will be much more mature.

Talk about escaping to another land: "come back to the land... where everything's ours... for a few hours".

Lyrics like "let me hear you make decisions without your television... let me hear you speaking just for me". This of course means being authentic and non-conformist. Again a huge overall theme of the show!

2. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

Dreaming is commonly referenced within ST. We know the show likely isn't just all a dream but... it's possible something similar is going on.

This song is about humanity as whole including the darker sides (like ab*se).

In my opinion, this song is about coping the best you can with the unpleasant sides of humanity "hold your head up, keep your head up".

3. Holding Out for a Hero

This one I think is fairly self-explanatory. With all the references to heroes! To me it ties in perfectly with both Mike being Will's hero, and also with my theory on Will having DID and many characters being his alters. For people with DID, alters are essentially their "heroes" protecting them from trauma and ab*se.

4. Enola Gay

Enola Gay is both a song about the first atomic bomb used in an act of war called "Little Boy" AND it's considered a GAY ANTHEM by many.

This song was what made me realize that the writers compared Will to "Little Boy". I talk about this more in this post.

Some VERY relevant lyrics to ST:

The mention of 8:15 and "that's the time that it's always been". Alluding to time being frozen.

Communication through the radio.

"Conditions normal and you're coming home" aka finally returning from the UD.

5. Always on my Mind

The lead singer of this band is openly gay. If you listen to the lyrics, they perfectly fit Mike's perspective and how Will has "always been on [his] mind" this whole time...

"If I made you feel second best, I'm so sorry I was blind. You were always on my mind. You were always on my mind."

6. Strangelove

So there's layers to this one.

First off the obvious: The title is about a "strange love" aka something that's not accepted by society and is considered a "sin".

Secondly, it's likely a nod to the movie Dr. Strangelove

Dr. Strangelove is about The Cold War, America vs. USSR/Russia (a common theme in the show).

"A film about what could happen if the wrong person pushed the wrong button -- and it played the situation for laughs. U.S. Air Force General Jack Ripper goes completely insane, and sends his bomber wing to destroy the U.S.S.R. He thinks that the communists are conspiring to pollute the "precious bodily fluids" of the American people."

Speaking of "precious bodily fluids"...

7. Tainted Love

Another gay lead singer! And again there's layers here:

Tainted love as in a sinful love/homosexuality

Tainted love as in an ab*sive relationship (I'm not talking about Byler)

Tainted love as in a partner transferring HIV/AIDs... they are "tainted". In fact, one cover of this song was created to raise funds for HIV/AIDs. x

(I also added Shake the Disease by Depeche Mode for similar reasons).

8. It's a Sin

Simple explanation: this song is about the religious guilt accompanied with being gay. The church set comes to mind...

9. Turn Back the Clock

I chose this one specifically for these lyrics:

I wish that I could turn back the clock Bring the wheels of time to a stop Back to the days when life was so much better

10. Policy of Truth

THIS ONE!

So I believe that when Will told Mike "it was a seven. The demogorgon got me." He was actually telling Mike a major secret in code. Him telling Mike the truth lead to everything happening within the show.

Will was terrified of the consequences of him telling Mike the truth and that led to him "vanishing". I'll probably elaborate more on that eventually...

It's just time to pay the price For not listening to advice And deciding in your youth On the policy of truth

Some posts I made about that: here and here.

11. Here Comes the Rain Again

(No more videos :( I've reached the Tumblr limit).

I chose this one again for a few reasons:

The rain mention. "Here comes the rain again... falling on my head like a memory". There's a frequent association with water and Will's trauma.

Alluding to the rain scene...

The song is specifically about depression

The mention of wanting to be lovers...

12. Electricity

This one is simple. It's about electricity. I theorize that sexual electricity will be a major aspect of ST5. I talk about that in this post.

13. Let My Love Open the Door

A perfect resolution to the associating Will and Mike's love with opening doors. Also with lyrics like this:

When people keep repeating That you'll never fall in love When everybody keeps retreating But you can't seem to get enough

It's hard to imagine this song won't be used. Again, I talk more about all of this in this post.

14. Forever Young

Self-explanatory I think. Will and Mike will find a way to be "forever young" aka remain themselves and keep their interests. This also would fit perfectly if they do symbolically "die" (I don't think they'll literally die to be clear).

Just a playlist of songs I think will make an appearance in ST5.

I have very specific reasons for each one.

[primus-why]

I Feel TFOne Could've Handled This Better...

Hot take but I feel like folks have been really generous with the take that OP was unable to find ~the perfect words~ in the heat of the moment (and thus should be given some grace) when he told D to stand down and "not be like Sentinel"... namely cuz I don't feel that the narrative supports this?

Like-- after all is said and done, OP doesn't reflect on that part of their split. He doesn't have a moment where he seeks validation or voices his regrets over the choice of his words, it's actually cut-and-dry. The narrative (as it stands) supports that OP saw D-16 acting up, so he called him out and stood on business, down to the last scenes where he's basically like "yeah it's a shame but y'all knew I had to do it to 'em."

It didn't have to be much! I'm not saying to absolve Megs, just show OP looking at things from a different perspective/contemplating a bit on that tough choice and the morality of the moment. Some examples of what I wish we had:

B-127 straight up blurting the obvious by later chatting with Orion like, "Wait so you told your best friend that he was acting just as bad as the guy who enslaved us for our entire lives and was torturing him like an hour ago? Oof. Seems kinda harsh." Then have some of OP's regret show on his face.

OP asking Elita-1 after Megs is banished if he did the right thing. Have Elita back his choice up, saying, "You should have seen what he did after you were... gone. It was terrifying. I know it was tough, but you made the right call." OP is grateful for the support, but a conflicted look still flashes across his face before he steels himself to look out towards the horizon... and the future.

Have OP walk past other mechs/former miners who didn't go with the High Guard saying stuff like, "Wish I could've given Sentinel a piece of my mind!" "Yeah, but I'm glad he's gone for good." "Ugh I miss everything." "Oh, it was crazy! Megatron picked him up and then he rrrrriiipped-- oops, hey there, Mr. Optimus... Prime... sir?" And have OP wave hello, looking a bit sick when they leave.

Post-credits scene with Starscream going on and on, asking Megs when they'll be back to teach the upstart Prime a lesson. Megs grabs his face to shut him up. "Patience, Starscream. The Prime thinks I'm no better than Sentinel... but I'll show him. He wants Iacon? He can have it. In the meantime we'll take the rest of the planet! Then I'll come back, crush Prime under my heel, and we'll take Iacon too. Sentinel's reign will barely be a footnote, because I'm about to become Optimus Prime's worst nightmare." The vocal performance would really need to sell this-- like picture Megs saying something like that from a place of anger and hurt, not so much a place of genuine evil or malice.

Basically instead of Orion's assertion being backed up as black and white/good vs bad, I wish we had some different opinions/reactions from the characters sprinkled in there. Like you can't tell me out of allllll the miners who weren't strong enough/willing to go with the High Guard and ended up sticking around that NONE of them were like "eyyo honestly?? Kiiiiinda glad Sentinel is dead. Wish I could have helped, tbh." like come onnnnn...

And you can't even argue that he's not an active threat-- I don't think everyone would see things that way! It's not just about the threat he physically has, but the threat he represents and is very likely to act upon if given the opportunity! He has a proven track record of not only being sneaky and conniving, but also capable of dealing some serious damage/killing people bigger and stronger than him, plus he has the backing of the Quints. All he'd need to do is wriggle his way out of jail and run off to his sponsors, then he'd probably be back to hurt more people! (If the Quints didn't just kill him out of incompetence lmao). There's a lot of "ifs" here, but I think it's a valid argument that not everyone would agree on what is the right or wrong way to handle Sentinel once he was down long enough to, like, do something about him.

I feel the situation needed a bit of nuance. In some way I wish they had kicked the can and had D and Orion bicker while Sentinel escaped, then have D get frustrated enough by the loss of Sentinel to point fingers (and his fusion canon) at Orion, who then falls and becomes OP. (Megs could still show some of thar emotion/remorse right after he does it too.) Not only would this open the door for a sequel, but tbh the Quint might have just killed Sentinel anyways and sought to deal with the miners uprising themselves lol. (Maybe that could have been an after credits scenes too instead of the B-127 bit??)

Would love to see a moment in a sequel where they have a calmer moment after arguing for a bit. Have OP mention how Megs was out of line, that it hurt and even scared him to see him act that way, and Megs can quietly point out "you said I was as bad as Sentinel... is that really how you see me? After everything we went through?"

Then OP can fumble the bag again lmao like "D, I... I'm sorry, that didn't come out right... but you still took things way too far..."

"Why am I not surprised-- your opinion is what matters the most! Maybe that's why you became a Prime, since you're so good at acting like the world revolves around you--!"

*gets interrupted by someone else before another yelling match ensues*

[add1ctedt0you]

[uselessnbee]

what i wish people would also explore more when it comes to Percy is the other side of his feelings about his mom about family and his childhood but this fandom is too afraid to paint Sally even in the slightest bad light (even if it's not bad just acknowledging her flaws because she's a human being and not perfect) that no one will touch on that subject. like yes Sally is the best mom but she also isn't and that's the thing! She isn't perfect! but she tried her best but her best still got Percy hurt and it isn't her fault at all but that's the tragedy of it. i want Percy's feelings about this explored. how he grew up with a loving mom but an abusive step father. how his step father would humiliate him and call him stupid but then his mom soothed him and told him he's not the things Gabe calls him. how Gabe would hurt him and Sally would be there to make him happy and loved but at the same time she stayed with him. i want Percy's feelings explored about how he knows his mother loves him but her absence still hurt him. she would work so much to have money to raise him she did that for him but at the same time it meant Percy was left alone or with Gabe. Sally gave up so much for him, she sent him away to protect him but at the same time he was sent away from his mom. she's the only parent he has because his father is absent and Gabe is not actually a parental figure at all but she's also often absent in his life too and that must have left him with such mixed feelings because it's not all black and white! Sally's love protected him but also hurt him. Percy loves his mom so so so much but there's also this deep-seated bitterness and hurt and anger he never let himself feel and then the guilt for having those feelings because his mom loves him he knows that and she gave up so much for him and she married a monster that abused her to protect him, he knows that but it doesn't make it hurt any less. the mess his emotions are because he knows his mom suffered for him and did it from her love for him but he still desperately wishes she never married that monster that he wouldn't have to have the childhood he had with him that he wouldn't have to live with the trauma he was left with. this all is exactly what makes their relationship so fascinating and also heartbreaking.

or the idea of Percy having weird mixed feelings after Estelle is born because that's his little sister and he loves her with his whole heart and would do anything for her and wants only the best for her but there's also this little jealous monster deep down that wonders why she gets to have a loving mom and a loving dad and a happy normal life but he never got that. why does she deserve it but not him? why couldn't he have that too? doesn't he deserve that too? he was just a child too so why why why??? and then the guilt of feeling that way too it makes me want to scream. emotions are fucking messy and they can be really ugly and they can make you hate yourself and there's no way Percy's feelings aren't a mess when it comes to this and i want to see it explored so badly!

and with Sally too! her feelings about Percy because she did so much and tried her best but sometimes unfortunately your best isn't good enough and it still got her beloved son hurt and she hates it and feels so guilty but she just has to live with that but she can't help to wish it was different. that their lives would be different. better. normal. she can't help but to wish she didn't have to do the things she's done, didn't have to suffer so much just to protect her child. can't help to wish she didn't have to worry so much, didn't have to be so scared about Percy, didn't have to be terrified that one day he won't come back home to her, that she won't be able to hold her son anymore because he will be gone, she just wishes he didn't have to suffer so much, she just wishes and wishes and wishes

and i just wish people weren't so afraid to explore this because it's so heartwrenching and yes if you want something do it yourself but unfortunately i cannot write nor am i able to handle this topic in a way it deserves so i am left only with rambling about it on here thank you