#like technically you can call out or refuse to go but like then you would be risking losing your job being unable to pay rent

[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

[amlovelies]

Love how the media and government are all like hey don't drive or leave your house during this storm its dangerous but no businesses are closing or changing hours so like you still have to go to work which is the main reason people are on the roads and travel

[mecachrome]

notes from nicole piastri's interview on red flags pod

oscar started playing monopoly and chess when he was 4-5 but he was too good at chess (relative to nicole) that she boycotted it

nicole opened her twitter account because oscar wasn't replying to her at boarding school and she needed a place to chastise him ("can you not answer... i KNOW you're on your phone") (it worked because he started replying to her there)

instead of unflappable she calls him "conservative"

even during christmas and birthdays he was never super excited, one time they went with a group of 5 mums and 5 kids to a hi-5 concert (popular australian kids' musical group) and while all the kids were "going nuts" oscar just sat there "focused the whole time" and didn't smile or move lmfao. they were like 3 years old

didn't know what she was doing with oscar as a baby because he was her first child and her mothers' group was her only reference and they went "isn't the best part of the day when you wake up and go to their crib and they smile at you?" and she was like ??? because oscar would wake up and just SCREAM every single day needing to be out of there immediately and she thought that was just normal... then she had the girls and went "ahhhh... so that's what they're talking about"

when he was younger than 2 he needed them to read car magazines to him and was already obsessed with all things automotive and while they were driving would just name off and point out car brands by their badges

for a long period of time he behaved like he was a car and would "spin" his wheels and pretend to accelerate and run like a car lol

did a big burnout the first time he was on a bike (it had training wheels but he still learned very early)

as a mum she wishes he'd chosen golf or tennis since it's much safer than f1 and sometimes people tell her that she technically had a say in that when he was a kid and she said "but i didn't! it was just in him!!!"

won an academic award when he was 13 and she was president of the parents' community so she presented it to him, normally these events are super formal and you simply shake hands but she gave him a big kiss and instead of acting embarrassed or spluttering he looked at the crowd, nodded silently, and walked off

came back for the summer a few years ago and they were biking on the beach together when she had to brake hard to avoid a kid and went over, when she recovered and got back on he went "are you all right?" very deadpan but after they got home they checked his heart rate monitor and saw that he was totally steady the whole time except for when she crashed and his heart rate went through the roof, told him "ah so you do have a heart... we just don't see it"

"there's no sibling that can piss him off?" "well he's a boy with three girls so he just doesn't go there because he's never going to win"

met lily in person for the first time when he came home for the melbourne grand prix (was still alpine reserve), at midnight oscar was like "hey mum you know the dts film crew are coming tomorrow morning right?" and she was like WHAT... and he was like yeah it'll be chill they just want to film us having breakfast like a normal family or whatever and she was like Mate you haven't lived here for 5 years now do you know what breakfast looks like. it looks like your sisters storming downstairs and grabbing an inappropriate breakfast and storming out the door giving me the finger!!! and then the next morning lily comes down and nicole is like "oh is oscar up?" and lily is like no... i think he's still in bed... (many such cases) and then mae refused to be in it so she got dressed and ran off to school 2 hours early to escape them. and then the mclaren fiasco happened and the whole thing got cut out of dts anyway

when she said "oh my god you met matt damon!" he was just like (shrugs) "yeah... yeah..."

they communicate by facetiming and he's Always lying in bed. one time in bahrain he was leaning back on an ornate tapestry and she asked what hotel he was staying at and he was like oh i'm at the royal palace i'm like a guest of the crown prince. she freaked out and was like "oh my god!!! get your head off the tapestry!!!" and he just looked back like ? no it's fine it looks pretty old lol

called her to tell her that he signed his f1 contract and when he said mclaren she Realized and was like oh no i love daniel!! and he straight up deadpanned "yeah everyone loves daniel. that's going to be a problem..." and said verbatim "of all the f1 drivers ever daniel is the worst one to be replacing"

one time in f4 chris couldn't go to a race and billy monger had just had his crash so she flew to the uk for the weekend to support him and when she was driving him back to boarding school she was happy because she had 2 hours to spend with him and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again but instead he slept the whole way through and the moment they got back to school he went "ahhhh... home sweet home" and she wanted to slap him lmfao

first day of primary school when he was 5 years old he said he didn't need her to walk him to school and she was like "well i actually do mate" so he forced her to walk behind him the whole way and the moment they got there he turned to her and went "all right i'm here you can go now" 😭

the chinese & italian & yugoslavian is on chris's side of the family while nicole's is scottish & irish ("that's where the pasty skin comes from")

red flags pod sent her a shirt with oscar's face composed of His Tweet and she showed it to him and he immediately said he wanted it

he gave her a small warning before he posted the tweet but it was just like "mum so this is going to happen just don't worry about it. it's all under control. it'll be fine" and was very calm the whole time

"we just had to trust that his personality would come through at some point, because the way he came across was not at all what he's like. people will work out who the real you is so just continue to do what you do" 🥺

all of the kids were obsessed with Cars (2006)

likes his mum's golden syrup dumplings and grandmother's rumballs

AT THE SINGAPORE GP IN 2023 HATTIE DISAPPEARED FOR HOURS TO GO SEE A K-POP CONCERT 😭😭😭😭 i think it was p1h lmfao (nicole was asked for her favorite group and went "i have no idea. five boys") ((it's txt)) meanwhile oscar is only into house music and she thinks everything he plays is the same song

did pilates when he went home but never with her and thinks it's a lot harder than it looks

takes him minimum 24 hours to respond to anything she sends

she had an exact conversation with oscar where she asked who he wanted to be teammates with and he said "well if i go up against lando i don't even have to get close the first year because everyone knows how good he is" 😭

oscar you are so you 🧡

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.

[atyourmerci]

I don’t care that you’re a stoner

Ceo!abby

Dr. A.A

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, mean!abby, sub!reader, light bondage (belt), tribbing brrr, talks of strap usage, tribbing breeding kink brrr, degradation, fingering, cum play

A/N: this is technically a drabble but I gave it a title bc that’s what Chappell deserves

◊

Why Dr. Anderson decided to come to you, your pathetic excuse of an ‘office’ instead of your usual frequent visits to hers, was beyond you. Following her around like a dog to her every beck and call. Having to call her doctor since she insisted on getting her doctorate in finance…fucking prick.

Even your credentials, your place in the hierarchy of the company didn’t exclude you from being her little bitch. She seldom gave you the decency of just looking at you when you did her dirty work. Filing her papers, calling her clients, getting her coffee, black of course, like she would drink anything with an ounce of happiness.

She never thanked you. She made it clear where you stood to her, below her. A bleeding, breathing, able-minded body. It could be you, or the next, as long as it was done correctly.

So nice of her as she glares at you from the door of your office that was always open. “What are your plans for tonight?” She says driving her veiny wrists into her slack pockets, her normal intimidating eyes driving into your soul.

“I should be done that paperwork by six, is there something else I need to get to you?”

“After that,” she remarks sternly, as if you should’ve know that, as if that was something she’d ever asked before.

“Uhh go home?” You answer dumbly, utterly confused by her insistence on your personal endeavors.

“Come out with us tonight. We go to max’s down the road,” it was a question with no opportunity for refusal. You didn’t say no to Dr.Anderson.

“Oh I don’t-“ you shake your head before she cuts you off.

“I know I can smell you. Seven. Tonight.”

Sprawled out, aggressively stripped of your outing dress, on her luxurious thousand thread cotton sheets. Dr. Anderson’s Louis Vuitton belt tied around your wrist, her attempt to regain dominance.

Even as she’s panting, muffled curses coming out as pleas as she grinds her soaking cunt against your own. Her clit is so swollen now, after completely abusing your hole. Her pent up arousal seeping into the sticky mess she created with her relentless thrusts earlier.

“Couldn’t fucking stop thinking ‘bout this,” she pants out, rutting into you like a dog in heat, her sticky white cum ruining her precious expensive sheets.

You can’t seem to find words to remark her pathetic admission, so completely fucked out from your previous orgasm.

Kneading your breast in her hand she brings her teeth to your neck, biting down on the thin flesh, sure to leave marks for everyone to see. But that wasn’t enough for her.

“Gonna cum in this needy pussy, let everyone know how much of a whore you are.”

A guttural moan leaves your throat, the thought of her marking you, claiming you as hers.

“Hmm the little slut likes that? Getting used as my fucking cumdump?”

The only thing you can seem to mutter out is a sad ‘mhmm’ as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

A ‘fucking slut’ is heard in the background as you feel her reposition herself, turning herself sideways inbetween your legs, throwing your leg over her shoulder. She reconnects your swollen clits, with the addition of sliding two of her thick fingers back into you. Slipping in with ease, coating her fingers with the mix of pearl slick.

“FUCK,” you come back to your senses at the new sensation, needing to hold onto anything but your hands are still bound by her belt.

“Still so fucking tight, need to stretch her out so it’ll only feel good when I do it.” Her pace beginning to quicken, her hips bucking into your thigh. Her teeth biting into the flesh of your thigh, holding back whimpers of your name.

“B-better take all my cum. Every last drop slut,” she begins losing herself, her thrusts only getting sloppier. Gripping into the flesh of your thighs to stabilize herself, trying to get you off again before herself.

“I-I promise doctor.”

Was what set her off, dropping her head back as her mouth gapes. “fuckfuckholyfuck,” her legs begin to shake, hot white cream dripping out of her pulsing hole, dripping down your clit and finding its home in your own twitching abandoned hole.

Huffing out as she regains her stability, realizing she’s losing time, her cum dripping down to her sheets and spreading. Not where she needed it.

She takes her fingers back to your cunt, scooping up what’s left, pushing it deep inside of you and keeping them as far as she can get.

“This is what you wanted huh? Nasty fucking mess stuffed with my cum,” she says with a grin of the devil herself. So pleased seeing you so dumb for her, another level of submission she could coax you into.

You give a pathetic nod, feeling her cum painting your walls as she’s deep in your cervix. She begins giving tantalizing licks to your clit as she watches your chest rise and fall.

“Abby please-“

Before you could finish you feel a rough grab on your belt adorned wrists, pulling you up to face her.

“Get the rest you missed.” She says pulling you down into the sheets, your mouth opening instinctively. Licking the cum soaked cotton sheets as she watches you from below her.

Once she’s satisfied she grips your jaw in her hand, guiding your gaze to her soaking cunt, still dripping with the mix of both of your orgasms-

“Every. Last. Drop.”

[robertreich]

Project 2025: The MAGA Plan to Take Your Freedom 

A second Trump term would be more dangerous than the first — in part because of something called Project 2025, a plan to extend Trump’s grip into every part of your life.

Trump’s gross incompetence in his first term wasn’t all bad. It kept some of his most extreme goals out of reach. That’s why his inner circle, including more than 20 officials from his first term, have written a step-by-step playbook to make a second term brutally efficient.

At nearly a thousand pages, it’s longer than most Stephen King novels, and a lot scarier. The Associated Press wasn’t kidding when they called it “a plan to dismantle the US government and replace it with Trump’s vision,”

Project 2025 is a road map to ban abortion, give greedy corporate oligarchs everything they want, and strip Americans of our most basic freedoms — all without needing any support from Congress.

There’s more to it than I can get into, but here are three things I want you to know.

#1 How would Project 2025 work?

Every nonpartisan government agency would be turned into an arm of the MAGA agenda.

Some of the worst things Trump reportedly tried to do as president — like having the military  shoot protesters or seize voting machines to overturn the election  — were only stopped because sensible leaders in the military or the professional civil service refused to go along with it.

In a second term, there would be no sensible leaders in the military or professional civil service because Trump would fire anyone more loyal to the Constitution than to him.

Trump started the process in October 2020 with an executive order that would have let him fire tens of thousands of civil servants and replace them with MAGA henchmen. I’m talking about traditionally non-political positions, like scientists at scientific agencies and accountants at the IRS.

Trump could not act on the executive order then because he lost the election. If he wins now, he’s pledged to pick up where he left off and go further…

TRUMP: …making every executive branch employee fireable by the President of the United States.

#2 Project 2025 is about controlling Americans’ lives & bodies

Restricting abortion is such a big part of Project 2025 that the word “abortion” appears 198 times in the plan.

Trump largely made good on his campaign promise to ban abortion.

Thanks to Trump’s Supreme Court justices, 1 in 3 American women of childbearing age live in states with abortion bans. Project 2025 would make that even worse, without needing new laws from Congress.

Page 458 of the playbook calls for a MAGA-controlled FDA to reject medical science and reverse approval of the medications used in 63% of all abortions, effectively banning them.

Page 455 plans “abortion surveillance” and the creation of a registry that could put people who cross state lines to get an abortion at risk of prosecution.

Another way around Congress is to enforce arcane laws that are still technically on the books. Page 562 plans for a MAGA-controlled Justice Department to enforce the Comstock Act of 1873, which bans the mailing of “anything designed, adapted, or intended for producing abortion.” This could be used to block the shipment of any medications or medical instruments needed for abortions.

But Project 2025’s control of American families goes even further. It plans for government agencies to define life as beginning at conception — a position at odds with the process used for in vitro fertilization.

Page 451 declares that “Families comprised of a married mother, father, and their children are the foundation of a well-ordered nation and healthy society,” thereby stigmatizing single parents, same-sex couples, unmarried coparents, and childless couples.

Project 2025 even takes a stand against adoption, declaring on p. 489 that “all children have a right to be raised by the men and women who conceived them.”

#3 Project 2025 would turn America into a police state.

Maybe you live in a blue city or state, where you think plans like arresting teachers and librarians over banned books (which is on p. 5) could never happen. Well, guess again.

Trump has said one of the big things he’d do differently in a second term is override mayors and governors to take over local law enforcement.

Page 553 lays out how to do this, and even plans for Trump’s Justice Department to prosecute district attorneys he disagrees with.

Immigration enforcement is to be conducted like a war, with the military deployed within the U.S., and millions of undocumented immigrants rounded up and placed into newly constructed holding camps. This is outlined starting on p. 139.

Members of the Project 2025 team also reportedly told the Washington Post about plans to invoke the Insurrection Act to deploy the military against anti-Trump protests.

There is much more to Project 2025. There are more than a hundred pages of anti-environmental policies that would help Trump make good on what he reportedly promised to do for oil executives if they contribute a billion dollars to his reelection. It would make drilling and mining a top national priority while killing clean energy projects, barring the EPA from regulating carbon emissions, and replacing all government climate scientists with climate deniers.

There are even cartoonishly cruel plans like slaughtering wild horses. Yes, that’s really in there on p. 528.

I thought I understood the stakes of this election, but reading this plan… Well, it gave me chills. If Trump gets the chance to put this plan into place, he will. The country it would turn America into would be hard for any of us to recognize.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Spicy Stories

JK Rowling: hello children Poe: oh Poe: oh joanne Poe: you're back Rowling: i have concernss Poe: uh we're mostly about just telling stories here Poe: you have your own campfire for your terf stuff don't you? Rowling: yess but they've really been getting on my nervess lately

Rowling: you know how it iss with terf deatheaterss Poe: not really Rowling: alwayss agreeing with everything i ssay Rowling: all "oh yes dark lord" this and "oh spare me dark lord" that Rowling: ssometimess you jusst get tired of hearing "masterful gambit dark lord"

Rowling: i tell you, you don't know how hard it is to run a cult L Ron Hubbard: oh yeah woof big mood Hubbard: people think its all fun, but its actually a lot of work Rowling: I know right????

Poe: regardless, joanne, i'm going to have to put my foot down Poe: this campfire is just for stories Rowling: uhhh actually i do have a new ssstory Rowling: i wass insspired to write after having an argument on the internet Barker: oh damn no shit? Barker: that's wild

Rowling: it's a new harry potter ssstory King: oh man! it's about time, i've been hoping for a new potter story for ages! Rowling: itss about hermione going back in time to help grindelwald, who actually had sssome good points if you think about it

Rowling: i call it Rowling: the time turner diariesss Barker: wow this is not really funny anymore Baker: its like INTENSELY not funny Lovecraft: catchy title tho!

Rowling: i'm retconning grindelwald into a misundersstood idealisst Rowling: who was only forced to make hard choicess because of the unreassonablenesss of decadent weimar society

Rowling: oh also you know that thing where people kept criticizing me cuz technically grindelwald's "evil" plan was to prevent the holocaust? Rowling: well good news Rowling: i've rectified that little mistake

Rowling: like, why would the naziss target transs & queer people, traditionally the most powerful and widely accepted memberss of ssociety? Rowling: would not the naziss, famouss for their love of diverssity, actually approve of them? Rowling: i'm jusst asskin questions

King: actually joanne there's a lot of well-documented evidence Barker: give it up steve King: no no i can fix this King: i'm sure if i just lay out the facts in a logical, well-reasoned manner- Barker: oh god that's so cute Barker: don't you just love him? Poe: that's our steve

King: so you see the nazi book burning of the institute for sexualwissenschaft- Rowling: nope Rowling: didn't happen King: King: well it kinda did, see, as i was saying- Rowling: thiss iss missogyny

Rowling: i don't undersstand you lot at all Rowling: i come into your campfire, i make a sstatement that i really want to be true & you all refuse to accept it Rowling: thiss issn't the way it works over with my terf deatheaters at all Rowling: they love accepting things i ssay!

Rowling: it'ss actually really missogynisstic that you all refusse to accept what i'm ssaying asss truth Rowling: even though you all know how badly i want it to be true King: but joanne, it isn't true- Rowling: ssave it for court ssteve!

Mary Shelley: sup fuckers Shelley: i got here late wot's going on? Barker: joanne is doing holocaust denial Rowling: EXCUSE ME it'ss only holocausst denial if you quesstion the murder of jews Rowling: tho now that i think about it i do have some questionss

Rowling: like, would they not have ussed their goblin magic to essscape? Lovecraft: ya know, she makes a good point Sonia Greene: i'm right here howard Lovecraft: Greene: see, this is why i don't talk much

[miserycanary]

MY HELL FOR YOUR LOVE ᡣ𐭩

♡⃛ ‘A Fixed Heart in Your Hand' alternative ending

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: alternative ending because I feel bad for hurting y'all

tags: hurt/COMFORT, fluff

"Sir? Sir!”

Ghost flinches as he realizes he’s been spacing out, the florist now looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you going to buy something or not?” she snaps, motioning at the display of bouquets. “Uh, yeah. Give me something with hyacinth and baby breaths,” he mutters, handing her a 100 bill. “Hyacinth? Never thought I’d see a day where a man knows a different flower aside from roses, tulips, and sunflowers,” the vendor chuckles, arranging the flowers neatly and covering them with a brown printed paper tied with a twine. “Ah,… if I know something, it’s about her.” The florist smiles, handing Ghost the bouquet and his change while saying, “Well, I can see that you love her dearly.” With a soft smirk, he replies, “That I do.”

You’ve always had a love for flowers. Going as far as to even beg him to make you a flower bed. Ghost didn’t like doing physical labor with him already getting beat from training at the base, yet when you flashed him that smile (and gave a toe-curling blowjob), how could he refuse? Since then, flowers as gifts have been rare between you two. Instances where he’d give you one are when you’re on a terrible period day or during milestones (the flowers coming from the patch he secretly planted months before).

It’s been two days since you’ve left the apartment, staying at your friend’s house, but Ghost insists on having you keep some of your stuff in the unit because, “well, you technically have ownership of the place since we shared the payment for this month.” It was a poor excuse, really, but it worked. Ghost knows you well enough to know that you haven’t broken up with him despite what you said. Leaving and staying somewhere else is something you do when you’re hurt and need space, and he knows that deep inside, you’re waiting for him. 

Don’t get him wrong. He doesn’t think you’re “easy to get” and he did really regret everything. The last 2 nights without you knocked some sense into him. The night felt colder, somber, and… lonely. Something he thought he would never complain about. I mean, this man has been through worse situations and he prefers solitude, but not if it’s solitude without you. You’re the one thing he can’t live without.

He has sent you multiple voicemails, messages, and even money as an apology. He’d always drop off by your friend’s place with some poorly attempted home-cooked meal of your favorite dishes. Sometimes he’d be able to steal a glance at you when he saw you coming up to the unit right before he arrived, sending flutters to his heart and butterflies in his stomach like a high school boy with a crush.

Now he stands by the door, hoping he’d leave the place with you in his arms, and him in your heart again. Three knocks (you always say less or more than that are for psychopaths) and a call of your name. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard your familiar cry, probably from rushing and stumbling. The wooden door cracked open, and the adrenaline that rushed through his nerves just from seeing you again could knock the man dead. He couldn’t even say anything except literally melt and give you the warmest smile. “Hi,” he softly greets, pulling the bouquet out of the paperbag and handing it to you with another gift. It was a charm... a tree bark with your initials engraved. You chuckle, pulling out the letter sticking out. 

One thing you learned about your Simon was that he’s not entirely good at conveying his feelings. I mean, that’s literally the reason for this fight. Yet he got out of his comfort zone, wrote you a fucking letter.

You look at him, tears in your eyes before jumping into his arms.

“I fucking missed you, pretty girl,” he mutters, holding you up by your ass and pressing a deep kiss on your lips. God, you taste like heaven; you taste like salvation. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pushes you closer, afraid you’ll slip from his fingers again. 

From that day on, Simon learned one thing. That he would rather go through the depths of hell (talk about his feelings) than go through a day without your love. 

| The letter: 

‘To my darling flower, I’m sorry for even hurting you. I’m sorry I was a shit-ass about how I processed my emotions and got you involved. You’ve always told me that you’re there for me but I didn’t want to burden you. I always want you to be happy but my actions just did the opposite. I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything that day. That I didn’t even ask you to stay. I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry that I let you go. 

With this letter, I ask for your forgiveness and for you to have me back. I will be better because I cannot afford to lose you for you have my heart and soul. You are my whole life. You are the thing that makes surviving each day worth it.’

꒰ა ☆ ໒: Now you guys know why Ghost calls Y/N ‘flower’. This the comfort alternative ending because it was also requested. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist: @softestqueeen

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[envy-of-the-apple]

ive been really obsessed with your gojo/geto naga oneshots and asks lately it feels like literal brain rot at this point its so good. ive reread it 6 times lol

i was wondering though, what would Geto do if Gojo was just a little bit too heavy handed with you? to the point of a sprained or broken arm or leg. Would he get mad at Gojo or just mad in general that reader was hurt? Also how would they act in response to the injured reader who can't do basic tasks themselves, I personally think they would enjoy the fact she relied on them even more to even move now.

Reminder requests are still closed!!!! I just love this idea so so much holdon lemme-

Part one Part three

(Yandere, dark, implied forced relationships, noncon touching, biting, language barriers, drugging(?))

Top of the Food Chain pt2

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Two days later, Satoru still wasn't allowed inside the cave.

You can hear him, hissing and clicking, right outside, hovering just behind the invisible line Suguru refused to let him pass. If you weren't already in so much pain, you would have found pity on the poor thing. He wasn't allowed in his own home, even though the incident wasn't entirely his fault.

Technically, Satoru saved you. It was yet again another escape attempt. Something you'd been doing a lot these days once you've figured out these beings' intentions with you. You'd gotten past the rock quarry this time, a new record. Your plan was filled with holes: there was no way to truly escape the island. You had no boat, no way to call for help. Still, you ran, forgetting that there were more dangerous things on this island other than two territorial serpent men.

It was a monster. There was no other way to describe it. Big, ugly, shiny spikes and sharp teeth, eyes dripping with bloodlust. You would have been eaten, killed, maimed, if Satoru hadn't caught up with you in time.

The only collateral was the loss of nearby plant life and your broken wrist.

That had been Satoru's fault. He'd pulled at you too hard at the hand. The remnants of adrenaline from the fight, his anger, anger made him too rough on your fragile body. He froze at the wet snap, and then you started screaming. That was how Suguru had found you. Despite how much Satoru clicked and hummed and tittered, from his mate's look, you doubted it helped his case.

Another lonely coo made you wince. Suguru only huffed, wrapping you tighter in his coils. They were already warm from your body heat. The numerous animal pelts helped your comfort too.

"Make him stop," you beg, "he's been going on for hours."

At that, Suguru lifts his head from the base of your neck. He tilts his head as he surveys you, and you can't help but think how awful you must look. Sickly-looking from the pain, clammy skin. He can't do much about your appearance, but the least he could do was shut Satoru up.

"What want?" Suguru asks, "water?"

At that, he picks up a sack filled with sea-smelling water. You wrinkle your nose, turning away, cocooning yourself within his coils. With the increased pain, your appetite has decreased, as well as your thirst. The stress of being trapped like this along with your broken wrist was starting to take its toll on your body.

Suguru makes a sound of disapproval, shuffling around behind you. You know he's still mad about the escape attempt, but he's concerned enough for your well-being to put his anger to the side for now. He'd helped wrap your wrist, using something stretchy and soft.

You raise your wrist up, inspecting the thin material wrapped around your wrist. You're not sure what it is, it's too silky to resemble cotton. It must be from the foliage around the island. Yet, another strange thing you'd never find the answer to.

There's another rumble coming from the Naga's chest. He wraps a hand around your chin, bringing your face closer. In his other, he holds the dripping sack.

"Suguru," it's too soft to be anything more than a whine, "it hurts too much to take anything right now. Stop."

"Hurt?" he asks.

To that, you gesture to your broken wrist. It may not have been broken, you were no doctor, so you couldn't say for certain. But considering you'd been in the same amount of pain for two days, it really didn't matter to you.

A click, before he's tossing a glare at the entrance of the cave. He'd already given Satoru a beating right before coming to coddle you. Despite being bigger than his mate, Satoru is docile enough to take them. Suguru had been acting more aggressive lately. You had a feeling it was your fault.

He'd been inspecting your wrist every so often, but you see a different look within his brown eyes now as he takes your injured hand. He carefully turns your palm over, pressing slightly into your wrist. When you yelp, he retracts.

"Hurt." Suguru confirms. You can only nod.

"Hurt. No drink? No eat?" You don't like the way he's talking. As if he's putting a puzzle piece together. Coming to a solution you won't like.

When you go to pull away, his grip only tightens.

"No hurt," he says it like a promise, as though you're a toddler and he's coaxing you into drinking a sour-tasting medicine. His lips part, revealing the fangs you've often seen him use on meat, on Satoru.

Never did you think he'd ever use them on you.

"Suguru," you're pleading, trying to move away when he bends down, his hair brushing your sweaty forehead. You can feel his breath on your neck.

"No hurt," he repeats, and then he bites down.

He lied, of course, he did. His teeth puncture your skin, tearing through like paper. You think you screamed, or maybe it was more akin to a pitiful whimper. In the background, you can hear someone hiss, Satoru maybe?

For a second, you feel everything, the pain, the puncture wound, Suguru lightly licking your neck.

And then, you feel weightless.

It's hard to describe, but your brain feels like it's turned to mush. Your body feels like you're on a soft cloud, just there, floating. In the back of your mind, you remember how dazed Satoru would get whenever Suguru bit him. At the time, you just thought he was lovestruck.

When Suguru pulls away, he's smiling. A trail of blood, your blood goes down his lip. You can barely keep your eyes on him, close to falling asleep.

"No hurt," he says. When he leans down to kiss you, you accept without a single fuss.

You don't remember much after that, but you remember accepting whatever Suguru put in your mouth. The panic in your body was non-existent as he held the water-sack above your lips, watching as your throat bobbed. You think he kissed you a few more times, but you're not too sure. You were a lot more averse to kissing before. It'd make sense he'd take advantage of it.

When you wake up again, you're in between two bodies. The pain in your wrist is still there, but not as horrible as before. You're still groggy, mind fuzzy. Whatever Suguru had given you was still in effect.

Satoru is the first to notice you're awake. Suguru and him must have made up during the time you were unconscious. He props himself up, peering down at you. With how dim the cave is, you can barely make out his features. He looks just as guilty as he had two days ago.

"Sorry," he mutters, "is sorry."

If you weren't still high, you might have laughed. When you continue to stare, he takes it in stride, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your lips. You wince in distaste, leaning back.

"Stop," you say but don't fight when he licks at your jaw. You can barely move your fingers.

Panic is still far away, a distant call than anything alarming. It should worry you, but you still can't feel anything.

Suguru is at your back. You can hear his scales move across the cavern floor. He gives a hum, content as he curls himself around you. He doesn't seem to mind Satoru's touches. Your theory that they must have made up is unfortunately starting to strengthen.

You could barely manage Suguru's coddlings. You don't think you'll survive Satoru's.

"Sorry," he mouths into your neck. You can feel the grip on your waist starting to tighten. He stops, rising up to stare at you.

Blue, almost glowing.

"But no more leave."

You're coherent enough to piece together what he means. You can't escape Satoru. You can't escape Suguru. You can't leave this island. Running away is useless.

The nagas understood it. It's time you did too.

"Yes," you finally say, "no more leave."

[goldfades]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐒; 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "oh my gosh, paige bueckers x uconn wbb athletic trainer intern with a situation at a game where paige gets a bloody nose (like the uconn vs seton hall) and paige like refusing to get cleaned up and reader like commands.. (i feel so silly typing this) but basically forces paige to let reader clean her up and the internet GOES CRAZY BC OF THE WAY UR HOLDING PAIGES FACE AND THE CLEAR TENSION BETWEEN YOU TWO (reader and paige can be like friends with clear sexual tension or secret relationship whatever u like girl pop 😛)"

─ word count | 1.7k

─ warnings | friends with tension type shit!!!!! mention of aggressive playing, paige being slightly mean (due to her being frustrated), descriptions of blood noses, kissing and making up,

─ ev's notes | i saw that video and IMMEDIATELY saved it to camera roll, i am so down bad

THE GAME WAS going pretty well up until the second half, everyone was playing aggressive and obviously, that was when people got hurt.

Usually, Paige tried her best to stay out of trouble. But tonight was different, these players were too cocky for their own good and Paige knew she had to humble them really quick.

As the second half kicked off, Paige felt a surge of determination. She dribbled past defenders with profencity, her moves as smooth as silk. As Paige drove towards the basket, weaving through defenders, one player decided to play dirty. With a swift elbow to the face, Paige staggered backward, feeling a sharp pain erupt in her nose.

Blood gushed from her nostrils, staining her jersey crimson. For a moment, the gym fell silent as everyone watched in shock. But Paige refused to let the pain stop her. She wiped away the blood, her determination burning brighter than ever.

Paige's frustration bubbled over, but she knew arguing with the referee wouldn't change the call. With a heavy sigh, she begrudgingly made her way to the bench, her jaw clenched with pent-up anger.

Paige stormed to the bench, her nostrils still dripping with blood. She clenched her fists, struggling to rein in her anger as you, the team medic, made your way toward her. She caught your worried gaze as she got up from the bench, pacing as she kept arguing with, you really weren't sure at this point.

Her teammates exchanged worried glances, knowing that Paige's fiery temper could sometimes get the best of her. But they also understood her frustration. They had felt the sting of unfair calls and dirty plays themselves.

"I'll put you back in when I know you're hot hurt and angry," Geno urged, his tone firm. "We can't afford to lose you to a technical foul or worse."

"I'm fine," she mumbled as she sent her coach a glare. You tried to dap the blood on her face with a towel but she moved her head away, her stubbornness getting the best of her. "I'm fine, for God's sake," her voice came out annoyed as she gripped your arm, pushing you away.

You felt a rush of frustration and something else — something you couldn't quite name — as Paige pushed you away, her grip on your arm firm but fleeting. It wasn't the first time her stubbornness had grated on your nerves, but there was something different about the way she looked at you, the way she touched you.

"Hey, look at me." You spoke sternly, only to be ignored. "Hey, I'm the damn medic and I'm telling you to sit the hell down so I can get you back out there, do you get that? Or you can't hear me now?"

When she ignored you for the second time, your patience with her finally snapped. You grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bench, gripping her face as you began cleaning up the blood on her face.

Paige's annoyance was evident as she glared up at you, but didn't say another word. She knew how you got when she didn't listen to you and she didn't wanna feel your wrath right about now. However, she just couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Would you just lay off already?" she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration as she jerked her face away from your touch. "I don't need you bossing me around like some child."

"You're acting a fucking child, you need to relax and trust your teammates." You snapped back, Paige's eyebrows furrowing in anger as she let you continue clean her up.

As you wiped away the blood, your movements were firm yet gentle, your touch a silent reassurance that despite your clash, you were still there for her. And though Paige remained stubbornly silent, her gaze softened ever so slightly as she watched you work.

"Paige, I just want what's best for you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "I know you're strong, but even the strongest of us need help sometimes."

Paige's gaze softened, her anger dissipating quickly. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment to regain her thoughts ─ she knew that you were her soft spot, a place of comfort and understanding in a world that often felt overwhelming.

As she opened her eyes, she found herself gazing into yours, a warmth spreading through her chest at the sight of your familiar face. With a sigh, Paige leaned into your touch, a silent admission of acceptance.

"I know, I'm sorry for snapping at you," Paige murmured, her voice soft.

You nodded in understanding, your gaze never leaving hers. "I get it," you replied, your voice gentle as you continued to brush her hair back from her face.

You finished up cleaning her nose and she sighed, her shoulders relaxing as the last of the tension seemed to drain from her body. As you finished cleaning her nose, Paige let out a deep sigh, the weight of her earlier outburst lifting from her shoulders.

"Thanks," she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude as she met your gaze. "I appreciate it."

You smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest at her words. "Of course, Paige," you replied, your voice gentle as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm just glad you're okay."

But before she could respond, she heard her coach call out for her. She gave you a quick smile as she jogged up to Geno, her steps lighter now that the tension had been lifted. You watched her go with a sense of relief, glad to see her back.

As Paige jogged up to Geno, you couldn't help but admire the way she carried herself with confidence.

──

"Hey," Paige's voice rang out in the empty medical room as you glanced back at her with a smile, your head turning back to the task at hand as you heard Paige's footsteps toward you.

"Hi," you replied, your fingertips stretching as you attempted to reach the tissue box perched on the top shelf. Paige let out a soft laugh as she reached over your shoulder, effortlessly grabbing the tissues and passing them to you.

You blushed under her gaze, your fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment as you took the box. "Thank you, P."

The warmth of her touch sent a shiver down your spine, a sensation you couldn't quite shake as you turned back to the task at hand. Paige smiled back, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned against the counter beside you.

"No problem," she replied, her voice soft but filled with amusement. "So about the game..."

"Don't worry about it, it was in the heat of the moment." You answered quickly as you glanced back the blonde. You could see the guilt in her expression as her gaze lingered on yours, a flicker of regret dancing in her eyes. But before you could say anything else, Paige spoke up, her voice tinged with sincerity.

"I'm really sorry for snapping at you earlier," she said, her tone earnest as she met your gaze. "I know I can be a handful sometimes, especially when I'm worked up."

You smiled, a wave of understanding washing over you at her words. "It's okay, really," you replied gently, your voice soft but reassuring. "And I know how to handle you when you get like that, and I know you didn't mean it."

Paige's lips turned upward as she heard you talk, her shoulders relaxing visibly as a sense of relief washed over her. "Thanks for putting up with me, even when I'm being a bitch."

You let a small laugh as you shook your head, looking back at the blonde with a sense adoration. You felt your stomach do a flip as you met Paige's gaze, a warmth spreading through your chest at her words.

"Hey, you're not an ass," you replied, your voice filled with genuine affection. "You're just passionate, and I admire that about you."

"Oh come on, you don't have to get all professional on me now." Paige joked as she gazed at you.

You shook your head, sincerity in your voice as you spoke. "No, I'm being honest. Seriously, that's one of the million other things I admire about you," you spoke softly as Paige's amused expression dissipated into a soft one.

You felt the atmosphere shift slight as Paige gazed back at you, you thought your heart was going to jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating.

Paige leaned closer before she spoke, her voice much softer than before. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the soft hum of the room. "That means a lot to me, coming from you."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Paige leaned even closer, the air between you crackling with an electric intensity that left you both breathless. With a soft smile, she reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, her touch lingering as you savored the closeness to Paige.

Paige's hand cupped your cheek as she leaned in slowly, her lips barely touching yours in an almost-kiss. She then pushed your lips into hers, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you as your lips met in a sweet, tentative kiss. The world seemed to fall away around you, leaving only the warmth of Paige's touch and the gentle press of her lips against yours.

With a soft sigh, you melted into the kiss, your hands finding their way to Paige's hair as you pulled her closer, your heart pounding in your chest with a wild abandon. As the kiss deepened, you found yourself lost in the sensation, the taste of Paige's lips against yours intoxicating and exhilarating all at once.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the kiss, the softness of Paige's lips against your own filling you with a sense of warmth and longing that you had never known before.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy with emotion, you found yourself gazing into Paige's eyes, the depth of her gaze reflecting the same feelings swirling within your own.

"Wow," Paige whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your skin. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

You smiled, a rush of joy and relief flooding through you at Paige's words. "Me too," you admitted softly. With a soft smile, you reached out to take Paige's hand in yours, the warmth of her touch sending a surge of warmth through you.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[sleepymarimo]

I have this head cannon that I’ve been thinking of for awhile and just had to share with you.

Imagine y/n growing up with zoro in the village and she’s a couple years younger than him and called him zoozoo once, but he kinda liked it so he let her keep calling him that.

Fast forward to them running into each other at a random market while he’s out shopping with sanji and sanji hears her call him zoozoo. Once they leave, sanji makes fun of him by calling him zoozoo and Zoro just pulls one of his swords and looks him dead in there while saying, “call me that again and I’ll cut your tongue off. Only one person can ever call me that and it’s not you.”

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬.

summary: read above! pairing: zoro x fem!reader cw: none! mostly fluff, perhaps a bit bittersweet an: hi anon!! i just had to write this bc it was too cute :) also pris try not to write something under 1k words challenge go!! ugh i need to tone it down fr... anyway, enjoy some fluff and thank the anon for their sweet hc.. also im going for a new theme soooo... wc: 2k

you were like a little fly, always buzzing around him.

technically, it was kuina that you clung to, but it might as well have been him, too.

every duel and training session, you were there. you'd clap your hands and cheer on kuina, the girl you'd come to see as an older sister of sorts. "get him kookoo!" came your chant, a toothy grin on your face as you watched the green-haired boy lose his temper once again. "y'can't beat kookoo, zoro!"

even as he barks at you to shut up, you can't help but grin. you know that you'll be scrambling to get him bandages later and you know that he'll refuse your help, all while kuina laughed in the background. this was the dynamic, the camaraderie you had all shared. kuina, zoro and you.

then it all came to an abrupt halt.

kuina's death hit everyone hard. you were inconsolable, missing her so dearly that it made your heart hurt. not knowing what else to do, you turn to the green haired boy who was the closest thing you had to her.

the two of you stand at her grave, one of your tiny hands balled into the fabric of his shirt as if he'd disappear at any moment. your free hand rubs at your tender cheeks, red and swollen from the tears you'd been shedding. "i-i miss-s her, zoozoo."

he fights back the tears in his own eyes as he keeps his gaze locked on the stone slab in front of him. this whole body is still as he utilizes as much of his willpower as possible. he's enraged. he's in mourning. he doesn't quite know how to cope in any way that isn't fighting.

your new nickname for him doesn't go unnoticed- a play on the same one you used to call kuina. he takes it with pride, not bothering to correct you.

he grabs your hand and roughly tugs you along to the training area. there was no way in hell that he'd give up, so he was going to drag you with him.

years later.

same scene, different atmosphere.

the two of you are in front of her grave, paying her respect. zoro is leaving yo- the island. he's leaving the island to fulfill his promise, to make a name for himself and become the greatest swordsman. of course you're wishing him the best, hell, you know that he's going to do it, but still, it stings a tad.

first your beloved kookoo, and now...

"zoozoo..." your arms cross and you sigh, trying to remain cheery and playful but unable to hide the concern in your tone. "y'feeling ready?"

he isn't fazed by the nickname, not when you've been calling him that for years. raising a brow and giving you an almost incredulous expression, he answers your question. "doesn't matter if i'm ready or not, i ain't gonna be the greatest swordsman if i stay here."

the two of you start the walk to the docks, a small ship ready for him. you're side by side, shoulders brushing against one another every now and then. he doesn't put any distance between the two of you. why would he? at that point in time, though he'd never admit it, you were probably the person he'd trusted most.

the silence isn't uncomfortable by any means, but there is a tension of sorts that you try your best to ignore.

when you get to the boat, you take a breath to keep cool and calm. but you're so, so bad at it. maybe a few years ago you could've gotten away with it, but zoro had grown so damn perceptive that it wasn't even funny.

"b-bye zoozoo." you nod with a shaky smile, struggling and failing to keep a straight tone as tears prick your eyes. your hands are behind your back and zoro has no doubt that they're clasped together in a bid to prevent yourself from grabbing him.

he rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in exasperation. "y'such a pain in the ass." one of his arms slings around your shoulders and begrudgingly brings you into his chest. of course he made sure no one else was around as he did so, opting to look off toward the sea instead of down at your teary face. "i'll be fine. grow up, will ya?"

your hands unclasp and you cling to his shirt, small laughs mixing with your sniffles. "shut-t up, zoozoo."

he doesn't say anything, but if you'd quit being a crybaby for two seconds you'd notice how his grip tightened on his wado ichimonji, his knuckles whitening. the swordsman is determined to do this, but hell, even he'd be lying if he said that this didn't... well, suck.

soon after, the two of you say your final goodbyes.

he catches sight of your smile as the waves took him away, and he has to turn around. his focus is on the horizon, ending the chapter of his life that had you in it.

you're damn persistent though, like a little fly. he can't help but smirk at your words, yelled and carried by the wind.

"you're gonna be the best damn swordsman ever, zoozoo!"

such memories only come to the swordsman when he's had enough booze. when he looks at the moon and the ship is quiet except for the sound of creaking wood and crashing waves.

the thousand sunny had been docked on this island for around a day. it was a nice place, lively and sporting a plethora of shops with goods ranging from tropical fruits to exotic spices.

zoro curses when he swears he passes by the same stall for the hundredth time. "damn cook, always gettin' lost..." he grumbles, not acknowledging his notorious tendency to lose his way.

before he could take another step, he freezes at the sound of a voice that he'd only heard when he was dreaming or completely shit-faced.

"zoozoo?"

the way he turns around is almost mechanical. at this stage of his life, things like this didn't really pull a reaction from him. hell, he hadn't felt this way since he'd ran into that marine in loguetown. it was like seeing a ghost, but you're not one by any means.

he says your name, the sound almost foreign on his lips.

then he straightens up, his rational self catching up to him. you. here. in the new world?

one of his large hands makes a grab at your wrist, pulling you to an alleyway where the two of you could have some more privacy.

he has too many questions, too many thoughts and he'd be damned if he said it, but too many feelings, too. his tone is unintentionally gruff when he speaks, presenting as irritated to mask the protective urges simmering beneath the surface. "what the hell are you doin' here, huh?" you're still like a damn fly...

you take a moment to assess him, his new scars and his physique and everything. it's not like you hadn't seen him... but you're not going to admit to him that a few of his wanted posters are very much in your possession.

he still seems to be as brash as ever. headstrong and bull-headed and caring, in his own blunt way. it's not like you expected him to change much, but still, it's a relief to hear him speak to you as if you hadn't seen him in years. "well i wasn't gonna stay there either!" you defend, stubbornly crossing your arms.

that sparks a conversation about what you've been up to. he's always been alright with just letting you chatter away, but he makes sure to pay extra attention to what you tell him. your goals, your plans and where you'll be going. damn you, making this harder for him by not staying at shimotsuki village.

he's proud though, he really is.

as you continue to speak, he finds his focus directed on your expression and body language. now that the shock has worn off, he gets a closer look at you. your fingers twitch lightly, your arms snuggly crossed over your chest as if you were holding yourself together.

he remembers you being rather comfortable and relaxed around him, only growing restless when you were struggling to hold down the torrents of emotion that you were prone to feeling.

the last time he saw you like this was when he left, when you were too prideful to reach out and...

something about your little mannerisms is comforting in itself, like you haven't changed. a small wave of nostalgia crashes into the stone walls he's constructed around his heart these past few years.

you're still that teary eyed kid clinging to him like a remora, and he's damn sure that that won't ever change. you can hide it all you want, but unfortunately, he knows you.

you're good, but he's better.

"oi, c'mere, you damn crybaby." he huffs, expertly masking his satisfaction as he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. a smirk tugs at his lips as he looks down on you, hell, he even wraps his other arm around you too. "thought i told ya to grow up, dumbass."

your arms wrap around him and you hide your sniffle with a scoff. "yeah, and i think i told you to shut up, zoozoo." you instinctively hold him a bit tighter. "bet you didn't miss all this crybaby stuff."

oh, if you knew how wrong you were.

the moment is cut short when an exasperated yell fills the air. "oi, marimo, what the hell are you doing with a gorgeous woman!"

zoro's grip tightens on you for a split second before he releases you with a growl, his expression morphing into one of annoyance. he turns around to face the blond, hand reaching for his blade. "mind your damn business, cook! i'll cut you up like a-"

they bicker for a few minutes while you watch on in confusion, before the cook tells him that there are marines on the island. the blond, not wanting the swordsman to get lost again, firmly grips his arm and tugs him along.

zoro's gaze flickers back to yours, hardened and glinting with determination. yet, beneath that, you can see the underlying emotion.

it makes you smile, and even as he's being tugged away, you give him a big grin letting him know that you'll be okay. a smile that says you believe in him and that you know he'll be the greatest swordsman this world has ever seen. most importantly, it tells him that you'll be there waiting for him when it's all done.

your lips part and you yell out. "bye, zoozoo!"

it's a while later when zoro and sanji finally quit their running, the thousand sunny go just up ahead in the distance.

"tch, can't believe a beautiful woman like her would want anything to do with a brute like you." sanji huffs, clearly envious and annoyed as he pulls out a cigarette and lighter.

zoro's scowl deepens, not quite up for discussing any sort of feelings with the cook. "shut the hell up, curly brows." he says, his eye subtly sneaking a final glance at the town. "it's not like that."

sanji breathes out a large puff of smoke, his form relaxing somewhat. "yeah, yeah... sure. whatever you say, zoozoo."

the air changes, going almost still as sanji finds himself looking down at a blade being held to his neck. zoro holds his sword up to the cook, glaring at him with a murderous intent.

they've had their fair share of fights, never actually meaning to harm one another, but zoro makes it clear that this subject is not up for debate. “call me that again and i’ll cut your tongue off." he growls, inching the blade a little closer. "only one person can ever call me that, and it’s not you.”

[mindmelter]

Riding The Rider

Hawk had always been a man who loved the open road. Today was no different. He had just picked up a new helmet—sleek, white, and impossibly high-tech.

Earlier that day, he went to buy a new helmet when he saw a beautiful white one called Helmetai. The helmet cost a fortune, so he wasn't going to buy it, but the owner of the store insisted that he should take it; when Hawk explained he didn't have the money, he then gave him one for free.

“Consider it a gift. A biker like you deserves the best helmet!" The owner said. Hawk found it weird, but he wasn't one to refuse such an expensive gift.

The helmet boasted top-tier features: enhanced vision, noise-canceling technology, and an integrated heads-up display. He didn’t bother reading all the technical specs—it was just a helmet, after all. But as he slid it over his head, it fit snugly, almost like it was made for him. The visor suddenly flickered to life with a soft hum.

"Welcome aboard, Hawk. Prepare for the ultimate ride." The helmet said in a robotic voice.

"Oh, nice, I didn't know it could do that. Helmetai, play my favorite playlist!"

Suddenly, 'Highway To Hell' started blasting in Hawk's ears as he revved up his bike and took off down the highway. The wind rushing against his muscles and the adrenaline pumping through his veins was Hawk's addiction. As he weaved between cars, pushing the speed limit, something strange began to happen.

He started feeling a small electric flow in his head. He shook it off, thinking it was just the adrenaline—or maybe the helmet was messing with his senses. After all, this was his first time using such high-tech gear. But suddenly the world around him faded, and he felt a disorienting pull as if he was being yanked from his own body. And just like that, everything went black.

One second later, Hawk's body came back to life.

"Transfer Complete, please don't remove the helmet until your ride is finished. Enjoy your time in Hawk's body." The helmet said.

“Oh, I plan on enjoying every second of this ride. Let’s see what this body can really do.” Hawk said. With a swift twist of the throttle, the bike shot forward, rocketing down the highway at full velocity, way past the velocity limit.

This helmet wasn’t just any helmet. Unknown to Hawk, it was part of a secret possession industry designed for the elite. Wealthy men who longed for excitement and adventure would rent out bodies, usually those of fit, and unsuspecting strong men, to live their fantasies. The technology behind it was the most advanced—microchips embedded into the helmets that synced with the brainwaves of the wearer, overriding their control and allowing someone else to slip into the driver's seat.

It was a perfect way for rich men to have a moment of pure adrenaline without worrying about getting hurt or dying in a crash; the helmet was programmed to shut down as soon as an accident happened or if they were pulled over by the police.

"Oooh, fuck yeah, now that’s a body!" Hawk shouted, flexing his thick biceps.

A huge tent started forming in his pants as he tested out his new muscles.

"Look at me! No fucking hands! YOOOOHOOOO!!!!'

Soon, he started hearing the sounds of the police sirens behind him.

"Alert! The police are after you. Do you wish to continue the ride?" The helmet asked.

"Yes I do! I paid for the full experience!" Hawk laughed sterically as he took off at full velocity, trying to escape the police.

Far away, in another state, a middle-aged, overweight man sat in front of his computer in his luxurious dark room, on his head was also a Helmetai.

[moonstruckme]

hello, hello! can i ask for an au of emt!marauders? she had a minor accident maybe in her work or college and they got called in without knowing that it was her? (shes their gf) 💘

How could I refuse??

cw: minor head injury, the teeniest tiniest hint of a praise kink

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You’re sitting on the curb holding a bag of ice to your head when the ambulance cuts its sirens, coming to a stop. The door opens and boots hit the pavement in front of you. 

“Dollface?”

You blink up into the sun. “Sirius?”

He crouches by your knees, worry making itself at home in the crease between his brows. “Hey, baby, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t think it’d be you,” you say dumbly. 

“Are you hurt?” James comes bounding around the other side of the ambulance, Remus not far behind him. You can’t say you’re not happy to see them, but you sort of wish your reunion could have waited until your date tomorrow night, when you would almost surely not have been in your work uniform and covered in pasta sauce. “Are we here for you?” 

“Technically,” you reply, somewhat bitterly. James squats beside Sirius, mouth pulling to one side. “I fainted a little bit, and my boss said he had to call an ambulance. Just so I can’t sue the restaurant, I guess. I’m totally fine.” 

“They called us and then made you sit on the curb?” Sirius asks angrily while James says, “How does one faint only a little bit?”

“They didn’t want you guys scaring the customers.” You choose to answer only Sirius’ question, shrugging. His eyes flare, and he looks towards the restaurant like he’s thinking about going inside to have some words with your manager, but Remus passes a conciliatory hand over his shoulder as he sits beside you on the curb. 

“What’s this for, love?” he asks you, covering your hand where it holds the bag of ice.

You must look as sheepish as you feel, because his eyes narrow slightly. “I guess I hit my head a bit when I fell.” 

“So,” he says dryly, “not totally fine, then.” 

“I mean, I don’t think I hit it very hard,” you try, but Remus is already removing your makeshift ice pack, tilting your head so he can see the forming bump on the side. 

“Why don’t you tell us everything that happened,” James suggests, giving your knee a teasing squeeze as Sirius moves beside Remus to jockey for a view of your head, “just so we have all the facts.” 

“I was carrying a tray to my table,” you explain, wincing as Remus passes a thumb over your wound with a murmured apology, “and I started to feel weird, like wobbly and out of it. I thought it might pass, but—” Sirius sends you a horrified look and your voice quiets, chastened. “I know I probably should have sat down or something, but I was working, you know? Anyway, then I guess I fell and smacked my head on the floor. When I woke up, the food was everywhere,” you recall with a sigh. Your coworkers are going to be less than pleased with you for leaving them that mess to clean up. 

“Is that what this is?” James asks, mouth tilting upward as he looks at the mess of your uniform. 

You nod solemnly. “Alfredo sauce.” 

“Did you land on any glass or anything?” Sirius asks you. He and Remus have evidently finished with their inspection of your head, though Remus’ hand still cups the back of your neck protectively.

“No, all the plates that ended up breaking went the other way.” 

“You thinking concussion?” James asks him. 

“No,” you say, at the same time as Sirius says, “Maybe.” 

Sirius fixes you with an odd look, half remonstrance and half endearment. “Sorry, doll, but you’re not exactly an expert. You very stubbornly did your job when you should have looked after yourself” —he squints his eyes at you playfully, giving your shoulder a mean squeeze— “now let us do ours for a bit, yeah?” 

You purse your lips in malcontent, but James is already clicking on his pen light, shining it in your eyes. “Look straight ahead for me, angel?” 

“S’not a big deal,” you mutter one last time in quiet mutiny, doing as he says. All three boys ignore you. 

James clicks the light off. “Alright, do you know the date?” 

“No.” 

“How about the year?” he asks patiently. You tell him, and he goes on to ask you the month and the day of the week. 

“Good.” He rewards you with a smile when you answer correctly. “Okay, do you feel nauseous or dizzy at all, darling?” 

When he looks at you like that? A little, but that’s probably unrelated. “No,” you tell him. 

“Headache?” Remus asks you. 

“I mean, only here.” You lay your palm over the bump to indicate it, but wince when it hurts worse than you expected. Sirius coos, taking your hand in his to prevent you doing yourself further harm. “Not on, like, the inside.” 

“Okay, that’s what I meant,” Remus reassures you. “What about why you fainted, love? Do you have any idea what happened?” 

You bite the inside of your lip, thinking. “Not really.” Your head had just hurt a bit, then you’d felt woozy, and then you’d fallen and it had hurt a lot worse. 

“Did you have lunch before you came to work?” James prompts. 

You nod. 

“What did you have?” 

You tell him. He seems tentatively satisfied. 

“And for breakfast? What about for dinner last night?” 

You think back, telling him what you can remember, and he nods, looking somewhat bemused. 

“Did you have a drink with any of that?” Remus asks.

You think harder. Had you? The realization must show on your face, because Sirius tuts. 

“There it is,” he says knowingly. “When was the last time you had water, doll?” 

“I…I don’t remember. I had coffee yesterday—”

They all groan. James starts laughing soon after, patting you on the thigh at your timid expression. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just drink plenty of water and then go home to rest, alright? You might feel shaky for a bit, so don’t get in your car to drive until you’re feeling better. Rem, do we have some water bottles in the van?” 

“Yeah.” Remus stands, palm landing affectionately on your head as he passes behind you to climb into the back of the ambulance. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell James, exhaustion seeping into your voice, “I won’t be driving for a while yet. My shift doesn’t end until six.” 

Contrary to your intentions, some of the relief saps from James’ countenance. “You’re still planning on working?” 

Uh, duh. Does he think your rent is going to pay itself? “I mean,” you say, trying to appear somewhat patient, “yeah.” 

“Well, go ahead and get that out of your head right now,” Sirius nearly laughs. “There’s no way that’s happening today, sweetness.” 

“What’s not happening?” Remus asks, uncapping a water bottle before passing it to you. 

“She thinks she’s going back to work,” Sirius says wryly. 

Remus looks at you, appalled. You only shrug, sipping at your water.

“You can’t work after a fainting spell like that. Especially not as dehydrated as you are—your body needs rest.” He shakes his head at you. “You can either get it at home or come with us to the hospital.” 

You roll your eyes, re-capping the half-drained water bottle. “That’s so dramatic.” 

“No, I’m the dramatic,” Sirius corrects you. “Remus is the reasonable one, which is how you know he’s right. Those are your options, dollface.”

You huff. “Fine, then can one of you go tell my manager that? I don’t want to be blamed for skipping the rest of my shift.” 

“You’re not skipping anything,” Sirius says, standing. “I’ll go, I’ve got some things to say to him anyway.” He cracks his knuckles, and you look to James in alarm. 

He leaps up, catching up to Sirius in a few long strides and nudging him back towards you. “I’ve got it, Pads. Why don’t you make sure she finishes that water bottle?” 

“Fine.” Sirius stomps his way back to you. “But make him answer for sending her outside to sit on the curb.”

“Please don’t!” you call after James.

Sirius’ gaze narrows, flicking between you and the water bottle beside you expectantly. “Drink.” 

“Fine, sheesh.” You pick it up and twist off the cap. Remus chuckles, picking up your half-melted bag of ice to hold it against your head for you. “Isn’t it, like, your job to be nice to people when they’re injured?” 

“I thought you weren’t injured?” Remus hums. You shoot him a look that’s meant to be intimidating, but his lips twitch upwards. “Relax, love, we’re just worried about you.”

Well, it’s hard to be mad at that. “Thanks,” you say quietly. 

Sirius resumes his crouch in front of you, taking one of your knees in each hand and squeezing lightly. “We get off in a few hours,” he says. “Would it be okay if we came by for dinner? We can bring takeout or something.” 

You lower the water bottle, looking at him with interest. Your day has suddenly taken a positive turn. “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“Good.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Now be a good girl and finish your water.” 

You flush instantly, and Remus’ head swivels as if to make sure no one is nearby to have heard him. “Sirius,” you hiss, “I’m at work!”

His grin sharpens. “Not anymore, you’re not.” 

[lovelettersfromluna]

Supercut

Summary: “In my head, I play a supercut of us.”

an: halfway through writing this I decided that this isn't technically the finale hehe, more of cam girl!Ellie come, this is just the end of them being stupid. mwah mwah love you all more than you know.

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MDNI, angst, cam girl!ellie, Ellie is a real idiot in this one tbh, arguing, hurt/eventual comfort, toxic!Ellie, tribbing, making out, pet names, this one is a little short im sorry, lmk if I missed anything!!!

Read part 1 here, and part 2 here!

You know that gross feeling you get whenever you look back at old pictures or videos? You know, the one that you feel at the pit of your stomach, and it makes you really happy but also really sad? What's that called again?

Oh, right. Its melancholy

It's that feeling where you have a specific memory, and you know that no matter what, that time is gone. You can't replicate it, and the only place that it will live is in the confides of your own mind

And it sucks, because you don't even know when those moments are going to be made. There's no warning in your brain that the day you have planned is going to be so impactful to your life, that you will constantly chase that feeling, trying to replicate what it was that made that time so blissful so that you can feel that same warmth again.

You don't even get the chance to savor it while it lasts.

It almost makes you feel like you never wanted those times to happen to begin with, because you would have been fine without them. Sacrifice one of the times of your life so that you wouldn't have to spend countless nights laying in bed, only hoping that you will experience something that can even come close to how it all felt in the past.

Most of the time, it's easy to simply look back at those memories, feel that disgusting mixture of happiness and sadness, and then move on.

But for some god awful reason, you can't seem to do that this time.

This time, it lingers. It sits there, knocking at your chest, demanding to be acknowledged, to have all of your undivided attention, giving you no choice but to think about how fucked up this all is, how all of this was a complete and utter mistake, and how you have no way in taking it back.

It makes you wish time travel was real, yearning for some mad scientist to come out and say 'look everyone! you can reverse the mistakes you've made in the past!'.

But that doesn't happen, and you have no choice but to live with the icky feeling that settles at the pit of your stomach, and refuses to go away.

You weren't entirely sure what would happen after that night with Ellie, the night that she laid her weight on top of you, fucking you into her mattress over and over again, whispering the sweetest words into the nape of your neck, holding you the entire night through once you were finished, silence overcoming the space as you both fell into a blissful sleep.

It was hard to really tell where you both stood, but you weren't an idiot.

You knew, that you and Ellie had made love that night.

It was truly like nothing you had ever experienced. It was like you were constantly in that delicious state before sleep, where the world is soft, and everything is so comfortable right before you reach the point of unconsciousness, and everything feels so utterly perfect.

That's what it felt like, and you knew that from the moment Ellie had pulled you against her chest, and pressed a soft kiss to your head before you both fell asleep.

It happened, but God....you really wished it hadn't.

Because now? Things were so much fucking worse.

The feeling Ellie gave you scared you, and it made the ugliest thoughts fill your head when you woke up. You felt wrong, the skin on your body feeling filthy for doing something so intimate with her, with your roommate. You felt like you were taking something that wasn't yours, something that was never meant for you in that way.

So you ran.

Not far, of course. You were lucky enough to wake up before Ellie, gently peeling yourself from her body, your stomach sinking whenever she mumbled something gently in her sleep, her hands mindlessly reaching for your body before she fell back into her deep slumber.

You stood over her for a moment, watching as her eyes flickered in her sleep, lips parted as she snored gently. The feeling you had when you watched her sleep scared you, because you felt...like you wanted to stay with her, protect her, hold her in your arms and ignore the reality of how much this was fucking with your head, ignore the fact that she had simply wanted help with her work.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

You inhaled deeply before you left her room, closing her door gently before you quickly went to your bedroom, tugged on a t shirt and jeans before you grabbed your jacket and left the apartment.

You stayed out in the city all day, that day. You were like a ghost, trying to sort out the feelings that were settling in your chest, opting to simply ignore them instead. You made sure to leave your phone at home, knowing any texts from Ellie wouldn't do you any good with how you were feeling.

You didn't return home until later that afternoon, the sun setting, slowly casting the familiar darkness of night onto the city that you had come to know. You wished you could stay out longer, avoid the situation more, but it was only gettin colder, and you knew you had to go back to your apartment sooner or later.

When you got there, you were greeted by silence. You don't even hear Ellie's usual music playing from inside her room. You frowned softly, looking around a bit for any signs of the girl there. You looked down, finding that her leather jacket and helmet weren't where they usually were.

Ellie had left too.

You should've been happy at that, giving you even more time away from the girl than planned, yet you can't ignore the ugly tinge of sadness and annoyance that lingers at the back of your throat at the thought of here simply...leaving.

When you got to your room, you quickly grabbed your phone, wishfully thinking that there would be a string of messages from your roommate, asking you where you've gone, and if everything is okay between you both.

But when you unlock your phone, there's nothing there.

Not a single call, or a single text.

And you suddenly realized, that great minds think alike.

So, that's how things go with you and Ellie after that. There isn't a grand scene of love, where you both confess that you had both felt that way from the moment you set eyes on each other, there isn't a happily ever after where you become her girl, and she becomes yours. There isn't any of that, you two simply go from being friends, to barely being roommates.

You guys never speak about it. There's never a conversation that happens to even clear the air, pretending as though that night in her bedroom never happened.

There's a sense of hostility that follows after all of it happens, because Ellie won't even fucking look at you now, let alone stand in the same room as you. If you're in the living room, she's in her bedroom, and if you're in the kitchen, she leaves the apartment to go eat somewhere else.

It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, because you can practically feel the hatred she has for you radiating off of her body whenever she's around, and it's a shock to you that you two are still even living together. The Ellie that would once sit in the living room with you, practically tugging your body to sit on her lap, has succumb to someone who barely even exists to you anymore.

And it doesn't even end there.

Ellie never really had girls in and out of the apartment before, even before you and her started filming and having sex. She was pretty strict about letting others into her space, only ever bringing around girls she was dating long term, or her designated filming partner. You never had a problem with it, letting Ellie know time and time again that the place was half hers, and she could bring whoever she wanted.

But that seemingly changed after you and her happened.

Because suddenly, there's a different girl at your apartment every night, and Ellie is fucking them ten different ways into the next month.

And it always happens to be on the nights before you have to wake up early to go in and open the record store.

She becomes relentless.

You first noticed it happening when she breezed past you on a Friday night, clearly dressed up for a night out. You couldn't really ignore the way your core tightened at how fucking good she looked, the feeling quickly overshadowed by the way she yet again left the house as if you weren't sitting right there.

After getting yourself to bed for some much needed shut eye, you were rudely awakened by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the sound of tumbling and soft giggles..

Which then slowly turned into the sounds of Ellie fucking a girl in her bedroom that was directly across from yours.

And it kept going, night after night, the sound of Ellie pleasuring another woman was all that you were left with. Not even your headphones on full volume could drown out the banging of Ellies headboard against the wall.

You have never been a jealous person, especially when it came to Ellie and her sex life. However, after what happened between the both of you, and the very clear fact that Ellie was indeed doing it out of spite..

You really couldn't ignore the fire you felt at the pit of your stomach whenever you heard some random girl moaning out Ellie's name to the top of her fucking lungs.

It was then that you came to terms with the fact that enough was enough.

And you had to move out.

It wasn't long until you wouldn't leave your room.

You seriously couldn't stomach the way it felt, being ignored by Ellie, her constant avoidance a reminder of how much of a bad idea it was to agree to filming with her in the first place. If that wasn't enough, constantly seeing her leave the apartment to go meet up with another girl started to hurt even more.

And you really didn't want to face the truth behind that.

There was something unsettling that came with the feeling it gave you, because how could you go from not even batting an eyelash at Ellie walking out of her bedroom with Julia, to feeling tears prickle at the edge of your eyes every time you heard her fucking someone else across from your room.

Because it's cruel, and you know you were wrong to leave her the way you did, but she left too. You knew that what you did was wrong, but surely you didn't deserve all of this? And why would she even want to hurt you like this in the first place? Surely you were the only one that felt this ridiculous conflicting feeling that only brought you stress.

And yet, you only found new ways to torture yourself.

It happens one night after work, you're tired and all you want to do is peel off your clothes and hop into bed.

Opting to grab your laptop, wanting to watch some mindless video on the internet to lull you to sleep, you are suddenly faced with something that had been waiting to haunt you.

A link to one of your videos with Ellie was still on your browser.

She had sent it to you a while ago, wanting to show you how well it was doing, and all the positive feedback that it was receiving, you meant to watch it at the time, but never got around to it. Now, it was sitting there, collecting dust until you decided to open it.

And you knew you shouldn't have, because that chapter of your life has closed, and you intended to keep it fully closed.

But curiosity did kill the cat, didn't it?

You didn't think twice before opening it, the link quickly flashing across your screen and taking you to Ellie's page. The thumbnail is of the two of you, the last video you guys had filmed. Its you, straddling Ellie on her bed, her strong hands gripping your hips, probably forcing you to grind down on her lap.

You feel your core tighten at the sight of it.

You don't look at it much longer, or read the comments either, because you know they will all be asking where you've gone, and whether or not you were coming back.

Instead of closing your laptop and going to sleep like you should have, you kept scrolling through Ellies page. You come to find the usual, seeing that she had been live the past few nights, as well as posted a few videos for her viewers to catch up on, none of it out of the ordinary.

Something does catch your eye however.

Its a video that was posted a few nights ago, and you can barely make it out, but you can see a thumbnail of Ellies tattooed hand pushed between a girls thighs, doing what you can only assume to be fingering her.

And that girl is definitely not you.

She had found herself a new partner.

It’s no shock that she did. She’d been actively fucking other girls, someone in and out of your apartment almost every night, something that she had made sure to make very clear to you…

But there was just something about actually seeing it that hurt like hell

You slammed your laptop shut, a bit too hard, but you were suddenly filled with something foreign to you, something that you hardly felt for anyone.

Quickly grabbing you blankets and tugging them over your body, you squeezed your eyes shut to try and erase the image of Ellie with another girl from your brain, the image slowly tainting the deepest corners of your mind so that you won't ever be able to do just that.

You couldn't do this anymore.

Ellie was just as bad at talking about her feelings as you were.

Because the morning after you and her had sex, she wanted nothing more than to wake up with you, kiss you, hold you, move on from this agonizingly slow phase that you two were in, where she was allowed to do the things that she always wanted to do, just conditionally.

She wanted to wake up, and move forward whatever the fuck you and her were stuck in.

But you didn’t. You simply woke up before her, and left, leaving Ellie to feel like a fucking idiot.

Because maybe she read into the entire thing wrong, maybe you didn’t feel anything for her, maybe you really did only see her as your roommate and nothing more than that….

Maybe that look in your eye that she was sure she saw when she was fucking you, was all in her head.

So when you ran, she did too.

And soon, Ellie’s sadness turned into anger, and all she wanted to do, was hurt you the same way that you hurt her.

She wanted you to hear her with other girls, she wanted you to see her with other women on her streams, she wanted you to see what it was that you’d lost, what you’d stupidly lost when you decided to run away from her the morning after it all.

But maybe she’d taken it too far.

Because Ellie’s anger turned into something that she didn’t want, because no matter how much noise she made, how good she tried to look whenever she was getting ready to go out with some random girl, no matter what she did to make you jealous, you never batted an eyelash her way, you never once reacted to anything that she did that was directed at you for the sole purpose of getting your attention.

And not only did it further prove to Ellie that you didn’t give a fuck about her, but it also made her so much more frustrated with you.

Did you seriously not have a fucking soul? Could you not even acknowledge her? Hurt for her? Feel hurt by her? Why wasn’t it working? Why weren’t you…..why couldn’t you just…..

Why couldn’t you just fucking want her.

Ellie was truly at her last straw, because being with other women was something she already didn’t like doing, but it was slowly eating away at her, picking away at her insides and making her feel hollow inside, a shell of who she used to be when she was with you.

And when she didn’t think things could get any worse, she found you doing something she only saw in her nightmares.

She hadn’t really noticed it at first, but slowly, your belongings began to disappear from the apartment. Particularly in the living room.

Your stack of blankets would get smaller and smaller as the week went by, the dorky little figures you had littered around different shelves and the tv stand started to disappear too, little parts of you started leaving, one by one, and Ellie was too far up her own ass to even notice.

Maybe if she had, she could’ve convinced you to stay.

In all honesty? Ellie probably wouldn’t even have realized you were leaving until it was too late, the girl far too consumed in her little revenge streak to notice the slow but sure disappearance of you, the way the remnants of you slowly began to leave one by one.

It just so happened that on a day that you were packing up some of your boxes, you had left your door cracked open, thinking that Ellie wasn’t home.

She was passing by your room when she heard a soft huff, the sound quickly catching her attention as she slowly walked towards your door, catching sight of the various opened boxes scattered around your room that was already looking sparse due to packing it all the way.

That. That was the straw the broke the camels fucking back.

Because suddenly, Ellie is pushing your door open, the force from her hand making it slam against your wall, the loud sound making you flinch to look over in her direction with wide eyes.

“Ellie?” You question softly.

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue makes a shiver run down her spine, because god….had she missed the way you said it.

Her eyes are angry, eyebrows furrows together as her eyes scan your room, looking at the boxes, your half empty closet, your empty book shelf.

“What the fuck is going on here?” She spits out, her tone making you wince slightly. It’s the first time you’ve heard her speak to you in almost an entire month and it’s so fucking hostile, so pointed.

This really wasn’t how you wanted this to go.

You let out a soft sigh, bringing your palm up to ran along your face as you look down at the boxes as well, heart sinking at the thought of going.

“Look…Ellie…I was planning on telling you…I just-“ she’s quick to cut you off, walking further into your bedroom as her eyes scan the walls, watching as they began to grow emptier and emptier the further in she looked. She scoffs, her green eyes finally landing on yours, her smoldering grip enough to take your breath away.

“Bull-fucking-shit. You weren’t going to tell me anything, and you know that” she argues, nostrils flared as she stares at you with eyes filled with that same glare of hate that you saw every time she’d glaze over you within recent weeks.

And she was right. You had no intention of telling her anything. She would learn that you were gone once you were gone, because that’s what you did.

You always ran.

You let out a sigh of defeat before you step away from her, fully intending on continuing packing. You didn’t want this to stop you, or put anymore obstacles in your way of leaving. This was what you had to do, and you knew that.

“I can’t stay here anymore, Ellie…things are fucked up between us and I just…I won’t deal with it anymore” you mumble out, your voice tired, weak. A clear indication of how you felt towards the entire situation. It was draining you, and you knew that for your own well being, you had to get out.

The sight of you packing as if she wasn’t in your room, trying to figure out why you were leaving, makes her even more upset. It blinds her from your words, from the weakness in your voice, in your appearance. She ignores it because the anger she feels is much easier to indulge in.

"So that's it? You're just gonna leave? Without saying anything to me?" she barks out, her tone making you feel worse than you already do.

And then it all stops, because why the hell are you feeling bad when this isn't even your fault.

You slowly turn to Ellie, your eyebrows furrowed as you stare at her in disbelief, cocking your head to the side slowly before you start to speak.

"Are you listening to yourself right now, Ellie? Do you ever stop to think for one second that not everything is about you?" The tone of your voice is so calm, words so slow and articulated, it barely even sounds like you're mad.

And it scares you, and it scares her.

You don't stop there, you couldn't even if you wanted to.

"This wasn't my idea, none of it was. I agreed to help you because you asked it of me, and I clearly have no fucking sense of boundaries. I get that what I did was wrong, and I shouldn't have left you that morning, but no one is fucking perfect" You defend, your own breath become more shallow the more you speak, your anger and frustration finally rising to the surface.

"This isn't good for me. You aren't good for me, you've been fucking different girls every goddamn night just to hurt me, and you're a fucking liar if you deny it." you spit out, making Ellie wince slightly, yet her eyebrows never unravel from how furrowed they are, and the frown on her lips is still there.

When you said it out loud though, she realized just how bad it was.

"I did it to get your fucking attention...not to hurt you" She barely whispers, staring down at you. You can't help but laugh softly, scoffing at her words before you give her a gentle sigh.

"Oh it got my attention, Ellie. It got it so much, that I can't bare for you to have it anymore..." you mumble out softly before you turn away from her, unable to stare into her eyes for any longer.

"I don't know what happened between us that morning...but I want nothing more than to just..forget about it all" You let out meekly, feeling yourself reduce to that small ball of insecurities once again.

And Ellie finally softens when she sees it, because you never let your guard down this much.

She inhales deeply, taking a step towards you, trying to get closer to you. You don't step back, or flinch, you simply ignore her, carrying on to pack your things as if she wasn't there, standing above you.

"You hurt me too...you know" she mumbled out, her voice finally dropping that hostile tone that she had when she first walked in. You're quick to turn towards her, spinning around to set your eyes that were quickly growing redder by the second.

"And Im sorry!" you shout, your voice going the loudest it had yet, it makes Ellie flinch.

You sigh out tiredly before you bring your hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "If I could go back and do it differently..I would..but too much has happened, Ellie...I don't..." you trail off, struggling to find the proper words before you sigh softly, finally speaking again.

"I don't see you the same way, anymore" you mumble out.

This makes Ellies heart seize up, because what do you mean by that? What are you trying to tell her?

You move to sit on your knees, you bare legs coming in contact with the cold, wooden floor as you begin packing more things in a different box. There's no more fighting, there isn't anymore arguing, or anger, it's just silent, the occasional sound of your clothes hitting each other when they hit you settle them in the box. You don't even bother to turn around and yell at Ellie, or even tell her to get out.

And maybe thats what's hurting her the most. You never yelled, you didn't cry or beg, you didn't do anything when she knew you heard her, saw her with those other girls. All of them were nothing to her, sorry attempts at trying to grab hold of your attention again, get you to show just a little bit of fucking anger, so that she knew you still felt something for her, so that she knew she still had you.

But it was clear to her with the way that you disregarded her after it all, as if she didn't even matter, that she didn't have you anymore.

Did she ever? Did she ever have a chance with you? Was she all in her head? Were you simply just a good friend? A decent roommate who promised to help her out when she needed help? Was all of it just....

Pretend?

She feels like she's running out of options, because she assumed that if anything, you two would fight and end up in a heated, passionate love making session where you two would admit what you had felt all along.

But Ellie was slowly coming to the conclusion that she was being fucking delusional.

Her decisions didn't let up thought, because soon, she's on her knees next to you, grabbing your wrists gently in her hands and pulling you to face her. She feels her heart break when you refuse, trying to pull away from her grasp, mumbling soft complaints of how you needed to finish packing.

When she finally tugs you a bit harder, forcing you to look at her, she feels the weight of her mistakes finally settle on her chest, because you're crying. Your eyes are puffy and your cheeks are stained, and it's all her fucking fault.

She bites back a whimper, tugging her bottom lip into her mouth as she feel her own throat burn with tears.

"Hey...look at me...come on...where's my pretty girl...come on.." She tries over and over again, voice breaking, making you whimper as you try tugging your arms from her grasp.

"Don't you see how fucked up this is, Ellie? We were just screaming at each other and now...now you're calling me your girl" you plead with her, the words bubbling past your lips as the mere sight of here forces more tears from your eyes, making it harder and harder to talk.

Ellie can't talk her way out of this one, not with you. She knows there isn't much she can do, or say, and she feels like she's all out of options, because you're right. All of this is so fucked up, and it makes her insides burn because she's hurt, and you're hurt, and it feels like there's nothing she can do to fix it.

She does the only thing she feels will work. She kisses you.

It's filled with everything. Passion, longing, happiness, sadness, anger, everything that had been pent up between the both of you is poured into the kiss, and it's enough to make you feel dizzy.

But you don't pull away, you melt into her, just like you always do. She feels it too, feels the way you let you defenses down, taking it as a chance to tug your wrists up and around her neck, her own arms resting on your hips as she pulls you closer, her lips working against yours.

"Im....fuck...im so sorry, baby....never meant to hurt you" She mumbles against you, her words coming out as a breathy sigh against your lips, making you moan softly against her. She pushes her tongue into your mouth, giving your waist a soft squeeze.

"M'sorry too..Ellie....shouldn't have left..." You whine against her, and she's quickly shaking her head, gently tugging you up to stand with her before she's pulling you too your bed.

"Just...lemme take care of you..alright" She hums against your lips before she gently pushes you back to lay on your bed, her own body crawling over yours, resting her weight on your body as she goes back to kissing you.

It's so slow, and sensual, and it feels like the entire world is quiet, like you're fading into her, and she's fading into you, and you both are becoming one. It feels so fucking right, and the hole that had been growing in your chest is finally filling up, the essence that is Ellie slowly acting as the medicine that you needed all along.

Ellie rolls over, gripping your hips and tugging you to straddle her waist as she lays back against your bed. Her green eyes eat you up, strong hands already running along your hips and thighs, giving you a squeeze before her hand creeps up your t shirt, pushing it up a bit before it slips under, grasping your boob and massaging it in her hands.

"Fuck...look at you...missed you so much, pretty girl....you can't even imagine.." She sighs softly under her breath, eager hands roaming your body hungrily, as if they've deprived of you for so long, missing the way your skin spilled out from under her hands, always so responsive for her.

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch her practically worshiping your body with her hands, a soft whine leaving your lips as you rest your hands on her hips, pushing up her t shirt a bit as your thumbs rub small circle into her pale hips.

Her hands rest on your hips, forcing you to grind down onto her lap, making you whine softly, the feeling her her sweats bunching up right at your core, your cotton pajama shorts leaving much too room to be exposed by her touch.

She sits up, grabbing the hem of your shirt before she tugs it off your body, groaning softly as her lips immediately latch onto your nipple, biting and sucking. You moan softly, arching your back a bit and forcing more of you to her mouth, hands wrapped around her neck, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck.

Ellie pushes you back, resting you to lay down before she tugs your pajama shorts and panties off in one go. You promptly spread your legs for her, letting her settle between them, the small gesture making her groan, her strong hands gripping your thighs, grinding against your bare pussy.

"Fuck...such a good girl for me..." she sighs softly against your lips.

You whine, reaching down and tugging at her own pants, fumbling with the waistband of her shorts that hung oh so fucking low.

"Off..wanna feel you.." You moan softly against her, resulting in a soft chuckle from her. She presses one last kiss to your lips before she nods.

"Whatever you want baby...fuck" she mumbles softly under her breath when she pulls back to start tugging her own clothes off, catching a glimpse of your soaking wet pussy and naked body in the dim light of your room.

She looks so fucking desperate, nearly tripping over her sweats as she tugs them off, tossing them somewhere else in your room. It's like she can't get the clothes off quick enough, immediately settling between your legs again once she's naked, groaning softly a the feeling of your pussy against her body.

Her eagerness makes you giggle, and Ellie feels like she's on cloud fucking nine when she hears it, so soft and gentle. She pouts softly, staring down at you while she's already moving to position her pussy over yours, tossing your leg over her shoulder.

"What are you laughing at...hm?" She questions softly, her hips slowly moving against yours as she lets out a soft moan, eyes never leaving yours.

You can barely get the words out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel her slick pussy against yours, clits bumping together in a way that has you nearly salivating.

She chuckles above you, a soft groan following the noise as her lips graze along your calf.

"Thats what I thought...fuck....your pussy is too fuckin good, princess' She moans out softly, her hips moving slowly against yours.

You moan loudly, your hand coming to grip her thigh as you move your hips in tow with hers.

"F-fuck, Ellie....you...that feels so good" you babble out, your other hand gripping the sheets beneath you as she fucks her pussy down onto yours.

Ellie smirks softly as she watches you, watches the way you fall apart beneath her.

"Thats my fuckin girl....you're the only fucking one I need...fuck...." She groans, turning her head a bit to kiss your calf again before her teeth sink into you, biting and sucking your skin, making you moan loudly.

You feel her speed up, hips growing desperate as she chases both hers and your orgasm, making your head spin as your nails dig into her thigh, sure to leave marks in the morning.

"Im....god...Im close Ellie.....fuuuckkkk....dont stop" you gasp out, low, lust filled eyes staring up at her as she continues bullying your pussy with hers, both of your arousal squelching together, making the most explicit noise you've ever fucking heard.

"Come on baby...want you to cum for me...can you do that? Fuck...I feel it too....that's it, pretty girl.." Ellie is babbling too, her lust clouded braun barely uttering words that are comprehensible.

You see her eyes squeeze shut, her moans getting louder and more high pithed, sounding so fucking pretty above you.

You feel like you'll explode, your back arching as the familiar feeling settles in your core, your pussy getting wetter and wetter as you feel your orgasm grow closer.

"A-ah! Ellie!" You scream out as you come undone beneath her.

And she isn't far behind, leaning down and crashing her lips against yours, forcing you to swallow her moans as she cums hard against your pussy, the both of you breathing hard as her hips sputter, pussy sliding around sloppily against yours as she becomes so fucked out, that she loses her rhythm completely.

And just like before, she lays there, on top of you, trying to catch her breath, face tucked against your neck, hands keeping you close, as if you'll disappear in thin air at any given moment.

There's so much going through your head, trying to figure out what it is that happens from here, where you and here go, what steps to take after, all of which come up with blank answers whenever you try to figure out what to do.

You assume she will fall asleep on you as she did before, knock out immediately and leave you to lay there with your plaguing thoughts.

She doesn't, though. You hear a soft hum from her lips, her hands squeeze your waist gently, before she speaks against your neck.

"I love you...so much.." she sighs out, her voice breaking a bit as if shed break down at any given moment.

You aren't sure what you'll do from this point on, but you do know one thing.

You won't run away from Ellie, ever again.

[lowkeyremi]

Choso who went into battle not knowing if he'd ever see you again. You knew this as well as he did, but he didn't want you to worry so he tried to comfort your mind.

"When I get back you gotta make me one of those cakes with the strawberries in it. I'll be thinking about it the whole time." He's hugging you, your head resting on his chest, tears from your leaky eyes stain his shirt.

"Don't go." Is all you can say. For some reason your heart is telling you that this is the last time you'll ever see your husband. This isn't just an assumption either, it's a very, very strong feeling inside of you.

"Baby. You know I have to.." His cold hands rub up and down your back, the coldness reminds of you of death.

"But.. what if this is our last time together?" He freezes completely, even his breath stops for a few seconds.

"I promise you, honey, this will not be our last time together." Choso leans down to meet your lips in a kiss, this kiss held so much slow, raw emotion. His hands caressed the back of your head and you felt more tears roll down your face.

"Choso! We gotta get goin'!" Yuki says tapping her foot impatiently. You have nothing against Yuki, but at that moment so much hate builds up inside of you- she's trying to take him away from you. She's trying to bring him closer to death.

"Choso please..." It's desperate and whiny, your voice cracks upon the last syllable. He gives you one last tight squeeze before muttering a, "I'll see you later baby."

The worst part about the departure is he doesn't look back, but you don't blame him. If he had looked back at your weepy eyes, he probably would have stayed instead of fighting for Japan.

Over the months of his absence you grow bitter, hateful, and quiet. Rarely do you talk anymore so when you hear your own voice it sounds foreign. Even your closest friends can't bring you out of the house without you bursting into tears, because the same door you walk out of is the same door he left out of.

"[name] you have to get out of here, you're going to spiral sooner or later," Your best friend mutters for the nth time.

"I'M NOT LEAVING! THIS IS ALL I HAVE LEFT!" You scream out. Regret instantly washes over you. "I'm-"

"I know you're hurting, don't worry about it." They say in a calming manner.

"I just- it's been two weeks since he's called me. Two. Weeks." Your best friend joins you on your couch, the same couch you and your husband have had many movie nights on.

"I know you're worried, [name]. About him, about your future, about everything... and I'm not going to tell you to be optimistic about the whole thing because it's 50/50 but I do want you to stay strong. It's what your husband would want, right?" They're right, if Choso were here he would tell you to push through and stay strong like you always do.

"Okay- fuck- alright. I'll go put some different clothes, let's get out of here. I haven't left in a long time."

The call came a month later. It was Yaga, he didn't sugar coat it, not that you wanted him to anyway.

"I'm sorry for your loss." It hurts when you hear those words being said to you over the phone. Your ears get a fuzzy feeling your vision blurs, and you start to hyperventilate.

"[name]? [name] are you there?" Everything went dark after that.

Trying to cope was the worst part of it all. Yaga had called you a couple of weeks later saying his body was so mutilated that they couldn't bring it back to bury him properly.

Now, you truly have nothing left, well, technically you have all the things he's given to you over the years, but you don't have him.

You went to therapy, you went to stay with your family, none of it worked. All you could think about was the last time he held you, his body was warm but his hands were cold to the touch.

As much as it hurts, your therapist has suggested moving out of your house because your pain is still raw and being in the house will bring up painful memories. Of course you refuse, why is everyone trying to take away what you have left of your husband?

In your bed was a picture of Choso, one you'd always keep with you when you missed him horribly. As you lie down for the night, you hug the picture tightly while tears silently fall from your eyes. At this point you don't even make sound anymore when you cry, it's just tears.

Ultimately, Yuji was the one to help you start your healing process. When everything had faded he came back, in rough shape might you add, but at least he was back. Instead of going to see all his friends when he returns, he goes to see you.

When he knocks on your door you assume it's your friends or a family member coming to get you out of the house. Seeing Yuji at your front door was very unexpected on your part. Before you can even get a sentence out he's squeezing you in a bone crushing hug.

"Choso told me to give you a hug for him. It was the last thing he asked for." His softly spoken words meet your ears. Almost immediately you squeezed Yuji tighter, "Thank you ,Yuji..."

"I know that you've known him longer than I have but.." he pauses, "his death hurt me just as much, and shit- I'm not gonna lie and say everything will be okay or everything will go back to normal, but I will say that he wants us to continue on even when it's rough."

Yuji's words sink into your brain and your first thought is selfish 'he wouldn't want me to keep going without him'. After a few seconds of rethinking you agree with Yuji, Choso was a fighter and he pressed on for what he believed, and yes, he would want you and his brother to do the same.

[parfaitblogs]

loml ❀ s. reid x reader

in which even six years apart isn’t too much time for spencer to come see you.

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/comfort sort of tags: that freaky shit (soul crushing angst). a lot of nothing. approximately the time morgan left the bau (it's mentioned). spoilers for 5x9 (‘100’) if you haven't watched it yet... fade to black.  word count: 1.2k a/n: heyyyy… enjoy my the contents of my sad brain lol. this can kinda be a waiting room pt. 2 if you squint. i’m super sick right now so here’s a draft i wasn’t going to post until august (although it’s july 31 so is it technically august?) because i have no energy to write rn. whoops. enjoyy

Your mother once told you she doesn't think you can be just friends with some people. 

They're either there to be in your life forever, souls so deeply woven together that you have to be more than friends. Or they're fleeting, and your lives will line up for a short enough period of time that they'll impact you, and then you'll never see them again. 

You wished Spencer Reid was the latter.

Not at first. No, at first he was the man you were going to marry. You were certain of it. Discussing your wedding with your friends because it was going to happen, and you were picturing him at the altar. You had fantasised what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life so many times, dedicating so many hours to the concept of it, that when you lost it, you mourned the loss of it as much as you mourned the relationship. 

But Spencer Reid was the former. Unfortunately so. Losing so many years to a man you didn't even speak to anymore, because you just can't get over it. Can't get over how you could give someone so much of you, and they will still throw it all away for a narrative they've made up in their mind. Can't get over the narrative he made up of you. 

It was justifiable, you supposed. His boss had just lost his (ex) wife because of the job. It was tough for everyone on the team. You didn't think it was so bad he would freak out as much as he did, though. 

Because in his mind you were next. He was going to lose you as well. And even that stupidly large brain of his couldn't see how ridiculous that sounded. He refused to listen to you when all he could hear was the screaming in his head of you being next, and the statistics of female abductions. Statistics that were no different between the day before the incident, and the day he broke up with you. They were just louder to him.

An achingly long amount of time had passed from the last time you spoke to him. A pathetic meeting you had requested two months after the breakup, because your life was falling apart and maybe seeing him would make it better.

It didn't. 

You wondered if you'd still be shedding tears over him if you hadn't met him that night.

You heard your name, and so your head lifted from your lap. Right, you thought, bitterly. He was here. In your apartment. The same one he used to sleep at, for days on end.

You knew triggers like the back of your hand. They were usually things that made sense. Loud noises, blood, anniversaries. Could you justify your trigger being a whole person? 

You hadn't known he was a trigger until that evening, when he had showed up at your apartment door with a bouquet of flowers that you didn't really want, and an insultingly pretty smile. You had broken down, right there in your doorway, crumpling to the floor in a hyperventilating, miserable heap. 

He had held you, and frustratingly so, it helped. He didn't speak when he had done it, until you were calmer and were muttering apologies to him, embarrassment replacing the upset. 

At which he shushed you. You listened. 

"Why are you here?" you broke the silence that followed his calling of your name, voice shaky.

He exhaled audibly. "I wanted to see you."

"No, Spencer," you sniffled. "You don't get to come over with flowers just because you wanted to see me. Why are you here?"

He fell silent, and you wished you could crawl into his brain to see what he was thinking. You presumed a million things. 

"Morgan left," he said, quietly, and you felt your mouth go dry. 

"Oh."

Then; your eyebrows furrowed. Because did he really have no one to go to? You stared back at him for a few seconds, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about the weight between you two. Staring into his eyes was an easy way to forget that, apparently. It was comforting for you, but perhaps uncomfortable for him. 

Because he cleared his throat, and adjusted his position on the couch. "I didn't know where to go. And you said if I needed anything, you would be there and—"

"—People say that as a courtesy, Spencer," you breathed out.

"I know," he said, quickly. "But I really needed someone, and I genuinely didn't know where else to go."

You couldn't slam the door in his face even if you wanted to. Because now you were registering more than just your own emotions. The red rimming his eyes, the dusting of pink on his nose and above his lips. 

So, you nodded your head. "Okay. Come here," you said, opening your arms, and took him in between them. Albeit hesitantly. On both ends. 

This time he broke down, and you let him. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, your fingers entangled in his curls, scratching at his scalp in the best soothing motion you could. 

He cried until he had dehydrated his body, and your arms had begun to cramp from the position they were in. When he pulled back, your heart cracked a little more at the sight, his face wet with tears that stuck his hair to his cheeks, that you cleaned up. 

"I miss you."

You froze. He did as well, but for an entirely different reason. At the idea that he had said it. Not you. Him. The words decorated the air and hung there for minutes as you fell silent. 

Finally; "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do," his response was quick, as if expecting you to deny him of his own feelings.

"You're upset, and I'm comforting you. You miss Morgan. Not me. Transference," you mumbled, hands dropping from his face. 

"This isn't transference."

"Spencer."

You were right. You knew it in the way his shoulders sagged in defeat, and his lips parted as if to say something, only to clamp shut in mental defiance. 

"Maybe," he finally said, quietly. "But I do still miss you."

"It's been five years," you answered. He nodded his head in agreement. You exhaled. "I miss you too, Spencer."

He lips twitched, but never reached a smile. "You aren't seeing anyone, then?" he asked. 

"You can deduce that, I'm sure."

You were right, he could, and he nodded his head, lips reaching a smile, albeit sadly. "Yeah. Me neither."

"I also figured," you said. "You would've gone to your girlfriend if you had one."

"I would've," he nodded his head, laughing a breathy, awkward laugh. "Instead I went to my ex-girlfriend."

"You did." More uncomfortable silence, before you let out a sigh. Again. "Movie?"

"What?"

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you say the full sentence, a little slower than what was probably necessary. You knew him well enough to know that he hated talking about his feelings, he was an awful communicator. Had been, your brain screams at you. He could've changed. 

It seemed he hadn't, because he nodded his head, a smaller, more genuine smile painted his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

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