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Death note in the big 2026 âď¸âď¸đ¤ death note Dub cast are coming to MCM london next may and I am READY âď¸âď¸
New sticker sheets available for purchase till april 30th!!
baby, join me in death. â Kim Juhoon
pairing: light!juhoon x misa!reader w.c: 9.5k
extra + warnings: you can read this without knowing what death note is about but I would suggest having prior ball knowledge ( tho I've provided rough context), James as L, death note au, manipulation, angst no comfort, obsessive behaviour, possessiveness, violence, mentions of death, moral ambiguity, toxic relationships, using the death note for obvious purposes, profanity, arguments, blind loyalty, power imbalance, character deaths, etc.
synopsis: You werenât supposed to find him. But the moment you did, everything changed. While the world feared Kira, you chose himâwithout hesitation, without question. Youâd do anything to stay by his side, even if it meant stepping into something far darker than you ever imagined. And him? He lets you. Because in a game built on control, power, and deception, devotion like yours isnât loveâitâs useful. But the closer you get to him, the more dangerous it becomesâŚfor everyone involved.
playlist: rhinestone eyes by gorillaz // just your doll by snow strippers // scars by novulent // pretty scene girl! by clover! // tragic surprise by snow strippers // ĐĄŃднО (ĐĐžŃĐ¸Ń Đ ŃМиК) by molchat doma // washing machine heart by mitski // little dark age by mgmt // tower of memories by ivri // join me in death by HIM
iro's notes: im so scared ts will flop dawg..
Š ramenoil 2026
The rules of the death note were simple.
1) The human whose name is written in this note shall die. 2) The note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected. 3) If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. 4) If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.
And youâwho are you? The answer depends on whoâs asking. To the public, youâre a celeb. People admire you from a distance. To themâyou're an object to appreciate and put on a pedestal nothing more, nothing less. Every expression is rehearsed, every word is calculated with purpose.Â
You live a double life. They think they know youâŚthe truth is they donât. Because when you go deeper than the studio lights, formulated scripts and staged emotions there's something else. Something real.
Recently, news about a âgod of justiceâ has been going around. Some sort of phenomenon has been killing all the criminals. They call âhimâ Kira.Â
Youâre Kira. Not the one the world fears though. Not the name whispered with equal parts reverence and terror across every news channel. But youâre close enough to it that the line barely matters anymore.Â
Youâre the second Kira. It didnât begin with ambition, or even an obsession with justice, or even desperation if you're honest. It began with curiosity. A notebook, dropped into your life like a mistake. Rules written in plain language, almost laughable in their simplicity. Anyone else would have dismissed it. A prop, or maybe a prank. Itâs common on television. So, you picked it up.Â
You didnât think this was a prank so you read every line, you understood every condition, and instead of turning away, you tested it. A name along with a face. You jotted it down, what's the worst that could happen?Â
Worst case scenario it's a prank. But, 40 seconds later, someone died. And you felt it, it wasn't guilt, it wasn't fear, but it was certainty. You figured out the weapon the government couldn't. You figured out what your saviour used. Kira, the real oneâhe killed the murderers of your parents. To you, he was your savior, your knight in shining armor. You didnât care if some people found his work heartless. To you, he was a messiah. Your messiah.Â
The world argued about him endlesslyâwhether he was justice or cruelty, salvation or destruction. Panels of experts debated his morality like it was something that could be measured, something that could be understood. They were all wrong. Because they werenât there. They didnât feel what you felt when you saw those headlines. When you saw the names of people who deserved worse than death finally meet an end that was too quick, too merciful.Â
They didnât understand what it meant to lose everythingâand then watch someone, somewhere, take revenge on a world that never cared. Kira was justice. And now, you werenât just watching anymoreâyou were part of it. At first, you followed his patterns, carefully and precisely. You watched the timing, the selection, the way criminals fell one after another like dominoes set in motion by an unseen hand. You didnât rush, you didnât get greedy, but you learned him, you studied him and matched his patterns.
Two Kiras, moving in sync without ever meeting. It felt almostâŚperfect. Until it didnât. Because curiosity, no matter how controlled, always grows into something else, something deeper, something dangerous and something like the flame of desire that even water can extinguish.Â
The deal came soon after. You didnât hesitate when the shinigami appearedâtowering over you, he was unnatural, mostly skeletal of sorts with purple markings on his face. He was called Rem. He was something that should have terrified you. But fear never came, especially not when it offered you something more.
Eyes that could see beyond the surfaceâthose shinigami eyes allowed you to see names and lifespans. The key to killing people was right in front of you. With them, you could finally be useful to the real Kira. But, in exchange? half your lifespan.
Your shinigami, Rem, was rather confused by your actions. âDoing all this for someone who doesn't know you exist?â He said, leaning down closer to your face, âItâs irrational, isn't it? What if he uses the note against you?â You leaned in closer, a smile spreading across your face, âItâs alright, Iâm sure Kira is kind to those with pure hearts, and if it came down to that, I'm still stronger than he is because I have the eyes.â It was a simple trade, you accepted without a second thought. Because time had never meant much to you anyway, not after everything youâd already lost. And suddenly, the world changed. People werenât just people anymore, they were numbers. Counted down to their end.Â
You remembered what Rem told you, âYou can see the lifespans of everyone but Kira. You canât see Kira's lifespan as he's an owner of a deathnote, with another shinigami of course.â
And finally, one day, in the middle of a crowd you barely paid attention to, something didnât appear. You almost missed itâŚalmost. Because for the first time since making the deal, someone walked by andâŚ.there was nothing. No number, no lifespan. Just him and three red question marks displayed above his head. Your gaze lingered, sharper now, more focused. You looked again, slower this time, as if the answer might reveal itself if you were patient enough.
It didnât and thatâs when it hit you. It wasn't confusion or doubt. It was a certainty. You finally found him. Your Kira. He wasnât just a voice hiding behind screens and speculations anymore. He was a person. A real one, standing just a few feet away from you.Â
In that moment, everything else faded away. The noise, the people and the world that had been so loud just seconds agoâŚgone. Because all that mattered to you now, was him. A small smile crawled upon your lips, barely noticeable, almost instinctive. You werenât going to expose him, question him or walk away. After everything, you found the person who served you justice and understood you. Why would you let that go?Â
You took a step forward, and then another. Closing the distance like it was inevitable, like it had always been leading to this. You tapped the boy on the shoulder. You still remember seeing his face clearly when he turned out. Brunette hair, eyes brightâalmost too pure to be those of Kira, he smelt faintly of aquatic and citrusy perfume.Â
The boyâs voice was deeper than expected, âYes?â he said, leaning towards you.Â
âI donât see a number above you.â You said, your tone velvety with a smile. That's all you had to say.Â
One sentence, that's all it took. He knew immediately. The way your doe eyes looked at him, they were practically shooting stars at him. That confirmed it more. âWhy don't I take you to my place?â He said grabbing his stuff Who were you to say no? Not when this was the moment you had been unconsciously waiting for since the day you first picked up that notebook.
You followed without hesitation, of course you did. The walk was quietâalmost too quiet for something that felt this significant. The world moved around you like normal, people passing by, cars rushing past, conversations blending into meaningless noise. It all felt distant. Irrelevant. Because right beside you walked the one person who mattered. You didnât speak, you didnât need to. Your gaze flickered to him every so often, subtle but curious, studying him the same way you had studied his patterns before. Up close, he didnât look like what you expected.
There was no darkness clinging to him, no visible cruelty, no sign of the god the world feared. He lookedâŚnormal. That almost made it more fascinating. He noticed your gaze.
âYouâre staring,â he said casually, not even looking at you.
You smiled slightly. âIâm allowed to, arenât I?â
That made him glance at youâeyes narrowed sharply. âYouâre very bold,â he replied.
âAnd youâre very calm,â you countered softly. âFor someone who just got found out.â
He stopped in his tracks, he was amused but didn't say anything. He just continued walking.
By the time you reached his place, the air had shifted. The moment the room door shut behind you, the silence changed. It wasnât empty anymoreâit was heavy.
He set his bag down, turning to face you fully now, his expression unreadable. âYouâre not normal,â he said.
It wasnât a question, it was a statement. He knew.Â
You tilted your head slightly, as if considering it. âI could say the same about you.â
His eyes narrowed just a fraction. âYou have the eyes,â he concluded.
You smiled again, a little brighter this time. âAnd you donât have a lifespan.â
For a moment, neither of you moved. There wasn't any fear in the room. The room only contained two people, standing on opposite ends of the same truth, finally meeting in the middle.
âWhy didnât you report me?â he asked.
You stepped closer, âBecause,â you said softly, looking straight into his eyes, âI like you.â Thatâcaught him off guard. âI know what youâre doing,â you continued, your voice steady, almost reverent. âI understand it. More than anyone else does.â You could see itâthe shift behind his eyes, his eyes showed interest but his face? Stone cold.Â
âI can help you,â you said.
He studied you for a long moment, silent, weighing every word, every expression, every possible outcome. âWhy would you?â he finally asked.
You came closer and looked up to catch his gaze, âBecause I like you.â
Something about your bluntness, something about how easily you said and how certain you sounded shifted something within him. You werenât supposed to matter to himâobviously. Heâs Kira. A girl would just serve as a distraction. You shouldâve been just an object that he could trash anytime. But insteadâyou were standing in front of him, offering yourself willingly. There was no fear, doubt or ulterior motives behind your words. And for the first time since this all beganâJuhoon didnât immediately see you as a problem. He saw you as an investment.
ââŚFine,â he said finally. âYouâll work with meâ
Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing slightlyâsomething shifting in your expression so suddenly that Juhoon noticed immediately.
âWhat?â he asked.
You turned your head away from him, breaking eye contact. That alone was enough to throw him off.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â he said, leaning slightly, trying to catch your gaze again.
âI donât want to work with you.â Your voice was calm. Firm.
Juhoon blinked once, caught off guard. ââŚWhat?â
You crossed your arms, finally looking back at himâbut the softness from before was gone. No more admiration, no more quiet devotion. Just something stubborn. Almost childish.
âI said I liked you.â
There was a pause on his end. âWe just met,â he replied flatly.
âBut I really like you!â you insisted, stepping closer, like that alone proved your point. âI donât want to be just some partner you use.â
âI donât work like that,â he said.
âI know,â you cut in immediately. âThatâs why Iâm saying it now.â Your voice softened again, but only slightly. âIf Iâm going to help you⌠if Iâm going to stay, then itâs not like that.â
Juhoon studied you carefully now, maybe you weren't as naive and stupid as he had assumed. On the contrary, you knew exactly what he wasâŚand for some reason you were still there. Asking for something so irrational. You wanted to work with Kira? He knew you were a celeb, you had money and fame. What possibly could you get from this? It was almost absurd.
ââŚYouâre serious,â he said.
You smiled. âCompletely.â
Another pause, longer this time. He shouldâve said no. Logically, he should have. This set up was unnecessary and risky. Being involved with you could bring unwanted attention towards him. But, his inner voice said otherwise.Â
ââŚFine,â he said.
He didnât agree because he wanted you to help him, not because he trusted you but because keeping you close in a way was a smart move. You had the eyes.
Your eyes lit up again with that familiar glimmer, âSo youâll be my boyfriend?â âWell, yes but to ensure our meetings donât seem suspicious, I will still meet other girls.â Something inside you shifted. A small drop in your stomach, a tightening in your chest. The words registered immediately. Heâs going to meet other girls?
âWhat? Are you seriously going to date other girls?â âYeah, more or less.â This was it. âI don't want you to!â You yelled, standing up so abruptly the chair scraped harshly against the floor. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer without hesitation, without thinking. âIf I see you with another girl, Iâll kill her.â
Juhoon just stares at you for a second. Internally, he's analysing. If she's willing to do anything for meâI mean she's possessive, impulsive, obsessive and she has the eyes. It really is just an advantage for me.
âOkay, I'll be your boyfriend.â
Days passed. And just like thatâyou became part of his life, it wasn't natural or natural but more seamless You showed up when you wanted. Texted him constantly. Clung to his arm in public like you belonged there. Like youâd always belonged there. And Juhoon let you. Because every time you smiled at him, every time you looked at him like he was something divineâhe was reminded of one thing.
You were useful.
It started small, subtle tests. Names mentioned casually in conversation. Criminals he wanted confirmed. Situations where he watched you carefully, observing how you reacted, how fast you understood, how far you were willing to go. You never hesitatedânot once. And that alone told him everything he needed to know.
Then came the moment that changed everything. Juhoon was walking across campus, hands in his pockets, posture relaxedâbut his mind, as always, was several steps ahead. Beside him walked James, at least that was the name heâd introduced himself with.
The man investigating Kira, the man who was getting too close.
They spoke casually, like two students passing time, but underneath itâevery word was calculated, every step measured. And thenâyou appeared.
âJuhoon!â Your voice cut through the space, bright, familiar.
He turned. And there you wereâwalking toward him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You smiled, slipping easily into place beside him. âI was nearby for a shoot,â you said casually, like this wasnât the exact moment heâd been trying to avoid.
Juhoonâs eyes flickered just for a second. Because you werenât supposed to be here. Not right now. You could ruin all his plans. God, Yn you're so stupid.
âThis is James,â Juhoon said smoothly.
You turned to look at him and smiled. âHi, James.â
But the second your eyes met hisâsomething didnât match. Because that wasnât the name you saw. Above his head, clear as day, was something else.
Zhao Yuâ
Juhoon moved fast. His hand came up, blocking your line of sight so naturally it almost looked accidental, his body shifting just slightly between you and James.
âIsnât that interesting?â he said lightly, his tone casualâbut his eyes locked onto yours for just a fraction too long. A warning. Then, just as quicklyâ his expression changed, he smiled. âWhy are you here again?â
You blinked once, the moment slipping past as easily as it came. âOhâmy shoot wrapped up nearby,â you said, tilting your head slightly. âI thought Iâd come see you.â
James watched the interaction quietly. Observing, always just observing.
âRight,â Juhoon said. âWe were just heading somewhere.â
You nodded, smiling again like nothing had happened. âThen I wonât interrupt. Iâll see you later?â
âOf course.â
And just like thatâyou left. But Juhoon didnât miss it. Not the way your expression had changed for that split second. You saw it, his real name. You saw it. And for the first time, Juhoon finally thought you were useful. It was an opportunity. Because if you could see what no one else couldâ if you could access what even he couldnâtâthen you werenât just useful. You were essential.Â
From that moment on, everything changed. He began using you more deliberately, more precisely. He had you confirming identities from a distance, brought you into situation he needed clarity and let you observe people he couldn't risk getting close toâyou were âthe Ynâ no one would not want to be around you. He was at a clear advantage.
And you? You followed without question every time. If he asked, you did it. If he needed something, you provided it. If it helped him, you didnât hesitate. And Juhoon never stopped youânever told you to slow down, never questioned how far you were willing to go. Because the truth was simple. You made his perfect planâŚeven more perfect. He was justice, and you made it effortless.
It didnât take long for him to notice. Not just your obedienceâbut the consistency of it. The way you never wavered, never second-guessed, never asked for reasons he didnât offer. It wasnât calculated, there was no reasoning behind itâat least none that mattered. You just chose him, every single time, like nothing else mattered to you.
And that was exactly what made it worth testing.
Juhoon didnât intend for it to mean anything. It was just a testâone quick way to see if you were as predictable as you seemed. Something that would either prove you useful or disposable.
He leaned back slightly, scrolling through his phone as if the conversation held no weight. âThey reopened an old case,â he said, voice even, detached. âThe prosecutorâs being reassigned.â A pause followed, normal enough to go unnoticed. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, âEom Seonghyeon.â
He didnât look up immediately, there was no need to rush. If you were who he thought you were, youâd understand. And you did.
âWhen?â you asked.
His thumb stilled for the briefest second against the screen. Not why, not who, no hesitation whatsoever.
When.
Juhoon lifted his gaze slowly, studying you now with a level of focus he hadnât allowed himself before. Your expression hadnât changed. There was no confusion, no moral weight pressing behind your eyes, no trace of doubt. Just clarity and readiness. Like the outcome had already been decided the moment he spoke. Something in his mind shiftedânot dramatically, not enough to show, but enough to register.
So she would do it, of course she would.
The realization settled cleanly into place, almost expected. You werenât aligning yourself with Kira out of ideology, not in the way others debated justice or morality. It wasnât about the world for you. It was about him, you would do anything he asked. Not because you understood him fully but because you chose him anyway. That, more than anything, made you lethalâŚand useful.
âTonight,â he said, tone returning to its usual calm. âMake it look natural.â
You nodded once. No questions followed, no lingering curiosity. The conversation moved on as if nothing significant had passed between you. But Juhoon didnât miss it, didnât dismiss it. He had his answer.
The next morning, the news confirmed it. Eom Seonghyeonâdead. Sudden cardiac arrest. No suspicion, no deviation from the established pattern. It was cleanânatural. Juhoon watched the report in silence, eyes scanning the details not for confirmation of the act itselfâbut for imperfections. There were none. Timing aligned, cause of death consistent with his medical records, no unnecessary variables. You had done exactly as instructedâno hesitation or mistakes.Â
Later that day, when he saw you again, he didnât bring it up immediately. Instead, he observed. The way you approached him, the ease in your posture, the absence of tension in your movements. There was no guilt in you, no lingering weight of what you had done.
âYou didnât hesitate,â he said finally.
You tilted your head slightly, as if the statement itself didnât require much thought. âYou told me what to do.â
âThatâs not what I asked.â
A small smile touched your lips. âI never hesitate.â
It wasnât arrogance, it wasnât a challengeâŚit was simply true. Juhoon held your gaze for a moment longer before looking away, thoughts already adjusting, recalculating. You werenât just obedient but you were also consistent. And consistency could be built into something far more valuable.
Days passed, and with them, the pattern deepened. He no longer needed to disguise his intentions. Names were given more directly now, spoken in quieter tones, often followed by silenceânot because he expected resistance, but because he was observing how naturally you filled that space.
You never questioned him. Not once. If anything, you anticipated him.
âTell me who,â you said one evening, leaning slightly forward, eyes fixed on him with quiet certainty.
Juhoon watched you carefully. âYou trust me that much?â
âI donât need a reason,â you replied. âIf itâs you.â
That answer lingered longer than it should have. Not because it moved himâbut because it simplified everything. Trust like that removes complications. And Juhoon valued nothing more than control without resistance.
The first time you saw him with her, you understood immediately. You didnât need context, didnât need explanations. She stood too close. Her hand rested against his arm like it belonged there, her laughter light and easy in a way that suggested familiarity.
You stopped a few steps away, something tightening faintly in your chest. Not sharp enough to hurtâŚjust enough to be noticed. But you didnât react, at least not outwardly.
Your expression shifted almost instantly into something practicedâsomething bright, effortless. âJuhoon,â you called, walking toward them with a smile that didnât falter.
He turned at the sound of your voice, expression unchanged. âYn.â
The girl glanced at you, polite curiosity flickering across her face. âHi.â
You smiled at her just as easily. âHi.â
You stayed long enough to make it normal. Long enough to ensure there was no suspicion in your presence. Your voice stayed light, your posture relaxed, your attention evenly divided. Nothing about you suggested anything was wrong. And then you left.
The shift came after. Alone, the quiet settled differently. The image replayed in your mind with uncomfortable clarityâthe way she had touched him, the way he hadnât moved away. Your jaw tightened slightly, you had told him, you had been clear. If you saw him with another girl, you would kill her. It hadnât been a joke. And nowâ you had everything you needed.
That night, your notebook lay open in front of you. The pen rested lightly between your fingers, unmoving for a moment longer than usual. You could still see her face, her name lingering in red above her head. Still remembering the way she had smiled.
Your grip tightened, this wasnât a test. He hadnât told you to do thisâŚbut that didnât matter. Because you didnât want her there. The pen touched the page. You didnât hesitate, you just wrote her name.
Within the next 40 seconds? She was gone.
Juhoon knew immediately, he was with the girl when she dropped dead. The pattern was wrong. The timing didnât align with anything he had planned, the selection too specific, too personal to be coincidence. There was only one explanation.Â
He found you later in his room that day, âYou killed her,â he said. It wasn' t a question and you didnât deny it either.
âShe was unnecessary,â you replied, tone calm.
Something in his expression tightened. âUnnecessary?â His voice sharpened slightly. âDo you have any idea what you just did?â
You frowned, stepping closer. âShe was with you.â
âThatâs not the point.â
âThen what is?â your voice rose, frustration slipping through. âYou said youâd meet other girlsââ
âFor appearances,â he cut in, irritation clear now. âFor the plan.â
âI donât care about your plan if it meansââ
âWill you shut up and do as I say?â he snapped. The words landed hard. âShe was a pawn,â he continued, voice colder now, controlled again but edged with anger. âA piece in a strategy you clearly donât understand.â Your hands curled into fists. âAnd you just removed her,â he added, gaze narrowing. âWhy?â There was a brief pause. Thenâ âAre you jealous?â
Something in you snapped. âYes,â you shot back immediately, the word leaving you without hesitation. âYes, I am.â The silence that followed was heavier this time. âI told you what Iâd do,â you continued, your voice steady despite the tension. âI meant it.â
âI didnât give you permission.â
âI didnât need permission.â
âAnd now youâve interfered with something bigger than you understand,â he said, stepping closer. âDo you think this works if you act on impulse?â
âI donât care about anything else if itâs you.â
âThatâs the problem,â he said sharply. âYou donât think.â
You held his gaze, unflinching. âI think about you.â
That made him pause, only for a moment. But it was enough.
âAnd thatâs why I did it,â you added, quieter now. âBecause I donât want anyone else near you.â
Juhoon exhaled slowly, frustration still present but contained. âYou donât get to make those decisions,â he said. âNot unless I tell you to.â
You didnât respond, didnât agree. But you didnât argue further either. And that told him everything. You were unpredictable. Impossible to fully control. But stillâcompletely loyal. And loyalty like that, no matter how irrational, no matter how flawedâwas not something he could afford to lose. He just needed to make sure it stayed directed.
Juhoonâs mind was full of thoughtsâbut none of them showed on his face.
He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, watching you, not in the way someone looks at another personâbut in the way someone studies something they havenât fully figured out yet. You hadnât moved. You hadnât tried to justify yourself further. You just stood there, waiting. That was the problem.Â
He turned away first, walking past you toward his desk like the conversation had already ended. It wasnât dismissalâit was control. If he let this stretch any further, it would turn into something unnecessary. Something emotional. And that was exactly what he couldnât allow. You followed him, of course you didâyou always did.
The room settled into a quiet that felt heavier than before. You stayed near the desk for a second, watching him, trying to read something off his expression. There was nothing to read. Juhoon set his bag down slowly, his movements deliberate, precise. His thoughts had already moved ahead of the moment, lining themselves into something structured.
Sheâll act without thinking, that much is clear now. Not out of stupidityâbut because she doesnât need a reason. Because for her, I am the reason.
The realization didnât surprise him anymore. If anything, it simplified things. You werenât operating on logic, which meant you couldnât be guided by logic. You had to be guided by something else. You were guided by emotions. He had to control you, he had to direct you. Because if left alone, you would act again, you would interfere again. And next time, it might not be something he could correct.
His gaze flickered toward you briefly. You were still watching him, waiting for him to speak, to say somethingâanything that would tell you where you stood now.
Sheâs useful.Â
There was no denying that. The eyes alone made you valuable beyond measure. You could see names instantly, confirm identities without effort, eliminate uncertainty from situations that would otherwise require planning and time. You made everything faster.
Butâshe needs to be controlled.
That was the only conclusion that mattered. And control, in this case, didnât mean limiting you. It meant removing your ability to act without him.
Juhoon turned to face you fully now, expression calm, as if nothing significant had shifted at all. âYn.â
You straightened slightly at the sound of your name. âYeah?â
He held your gaze for a moment, measuring, finalizing. âGive me your Death Note.â
The words landed without warning. You blinked, confusion flashing across your face almost instantly. âWhat?â
âGive it to me,â he repeated, tone even, leaving no space for misinterpretation.
Your brows furrowed, the confusion shifting into something sharper now. âBecause of what I did?â Your voice lifted slightly, disbelief creeping in. âYouâre taking my note away?â
Juhoon exhaled quietly through his nose, already expecting this. This wasnât refusalâit was reaction. There was a difference. âYn, can you just fucââ he stopped himself, irritation flickering for a split second before he forced it down. âNo. Listen.â
Your eyes narrowed slightly at the slip, but you didnât interrupt. Good.
âYn, darling,â he continued, tone smoothing out, softer now, controlled again. âThis isnât about punishment.â
âIt sounds like it is,â you shot back.
âItâs not.â His voice didnât rise. If anything, it became calmer. âItâs about efficiency.â
You didnât respond immediately this time. You just looked at him, trying to understand where this was going.
Juhoon stepped closer, just enough to close the distance slightlyânot threatening, not soft either. Just deliberate. âItâs more efficient for me to work with two notebooks than one,â he said. âRight now, weâre operating separately. That creates gaps, it creates delays. Unnecessary risks, you know?â
Your expression shifted, confusion still thereâbut now mixed with hesitation.
âAnd if I have both,â he continued, âthose gaps disappear. Moreover,â he added, voice quieter now, almost persuading, âIâm sure Rem and Ryuk wonât have any issues with each other. It wonât be hostile.â
At the mention of Rem, your expression changed. That was it, that was the point of resistance. âButâŚâ you hesitated, the first real hesitation he had seen from you in a while. âIf I give up ownership⌠I wonât be able to see Rem anymore.â There it was, not the notebook, not the power. Rem.Â
Juhoon didnât react immediately, but something in his mind registered. You werenât as thoughtless as you seemed. You understood the rulesâŚnot just the surface-level onesâbut the implications. That meant you were paying attention. That meant you were capable of understanding more than he initially gave you credit for. For a brief moment, that shifted something. Not enough to change his decisionâbut enough to adjust how he saw you.
So she does understandâŚinteresting.
âOnce you give up ownership,â he said, tone steady, âIâll let you touch the notebook again.â You looked at him, listening carefully now. âYouâll still be able to see both Rem and Ryuk,â he continued. âAnd youâll retain your memories.â
That wasnât entirely standardâŚbut it didnât need to be. What mattered was that you believed itâand that it worked in his favor. You stayed quiet for a moment, processing. Juhoon didnât rush you, he didnât push, because he didnât need to. Your decision had already been made the moment he asked. You just needed to catch up to it.
ââŚSo I wonât lose anything?â you asked finally, quieter now.
âNothing that matters,â he replied.
You nodded slowly, the hesitation fading as quickly as it had appeared. âOkay.â Just that same quiet acceptance finally creeping back into your tone.
Juhoon watched you carefully as you reached into your bag, pulling out the notebook. Your fingers lingered on it for a secondânot out of doubt, but something else. Something softer.
Then you stepped forward and held it out to him.
âHere.â
Just like thatâno conditions, no hesitation. You gave it to him.Â
âI give up my ownership.â
That's all it took. Those 5 words. Juhoon took it without a word, his fingers brushing against yours briefly as he did. The moment the notebook changed hands, ownershipâŚtransferred.
You blinked once, your expression going distant for a split second, like something had slipped out of place. It was quickâbarely noticeableâbut he saw it. Then you looked back at him. The same, still you.
Juhoon opened the notebook slowly, his gaze scanning the familiar pages before closing it again. His grip on it tightened slightlyânot out of emotion, but certainty. This was betterâŚhe had control.Â
His eyes lifted to meet yours again. âCome here,â he said. He placed the notebook lightly against your hand. âTouch it.â
You did. And just like that, your eyes flickered slightly, awareness settling back into place. Not confusionârecognition. You looked up at him again.
âSee?â he said calmly.
You nodded. You had no questions or complaints. Juhoon watched you for a moment longer, something in his gaze more focused nowânot softer, not warmerâjust certain. Everything had aligned again. You were still useful, still loyal. But nowâyou were under his control.
Exactly where you needed to be.
Time passed, and with it, something subtle began to take shapeâso quiet, so precise, it almost escaped notice. What had once been two separate forces moving in parallel had folded into something singular, something far more lethal in its unity. There were no longer two Kiras acting in distant alignment. There was only one will now, one design, sharpened and executed without fracture. And at the center of it, Juhoon stood exactly where he had always intended to be.
Control had never felt this absolute.
The world outside grew louder in response. Panic disguised as debate, fear dressed up as morality. They spoke of Kira as if he were evolving, as if something about him had changed. They werenât entirely wrong. The rhythm of death had shiftedâfaster, cleaner, more deliberate than before. There was no hesitation in it anymore, no irregularity to grasp onto. It was no longer a pattern that could be studied. It was something that adapted before it could be understood.
What they didnât realizeâwhat none of them could seeâwas that the difference wasnât Kira.
It was you. Not beside him, not above himâbut like a gun in his hand. You didnât choose where to strike, you didnât question the target. You simply followed through. And in a world where hesitation meant failure, you became something he could use without ever needing to doubt.
At first, Juhoon had accounted for you as a variable. Unstable, impulsive, driven by something far too emotional to be trusted on its own. You had proven that yourself. But variables, when observed closely enough, could be understood. And once understood, they could be controlled.
There were moments, rare and fleeting, where even he acknowledged you. Not outwardly, never in a way that could be traced back to anything resembling relianceâbut internally, in the quiet spaces of his own reasoning where truth existed without performance.
This is more efficient.
That was how he justified it, not because he needed you. But because removing you would create inefficiency. That distinction mattered.
It had to.
Because dependence was a flawâŚa weakness. Something that could be exploited, something that could unravel everything he had built if left unchecked. Juhoon did not make mistakes like that. He did not allow himself to need anything beyond what was necessary for the outcome he had already decided upon. And youâ you were necessary. Nothing more, nothing less.
Still, there were moments that lingered longer than they should have. Moments where your presence was no longer just part of the planâbut part of the process itself. Not something added, but something integrated so deeply it became difficult to separate. He noticed it in the way his thoughts moved now. Faster, sharper, but alsoâadjusted. Calculations no longer accounted for whether you would act, but how quickly. Strategies didnât include you as a risk factor, but as a constant. A fixed pointâŚa certainty. And certainty, to someone like Juhoon, was invaluable. It didnât mean anything beyond that.
It couldnât.
Because the moment it did, the moment it became something elseâsomething less logical, less controlledâit would compromise everything. And Juhoon did not compromise. Not for anyone, not even you. Especially not you.
If anything, that was exactly why he remained as composed as he did. Why his voice never softened beyond what was necessary, why his gaze never lingered longer than it should. Every interaction, every word, every calculated pauseâit was all deliberate. Maintained.
Because you, by nature, were not.
You were devotion without restraint, action without hesitation. A force that moved without needing reason, without requiring justification. And while that made you effective, it also made you dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with the world outside.
You could disrupt him. Not his plans but his control and that was the only thing he refused to lose. So, he kept you where he thought you belonged. Close enough to use but distant enough to contain.
It was perfect.
Thatâs what he told himself. Because perfection didnât leave room for error and Juhoon didnât make errors, he created outcomes.
Everything that happened from this point forward had already been decidedâmapped out in a series of calculated steps that left no space for chance. The investigation tightening around him, the increasing presence of people like James, the constant pressure of being observed without being seenâit was all part of a larger equation.
One he was already solving.
Working alongside James had only made it more interesting. The proximity, the irony of itâit would have been amusing under different circumstances. The man chasing Kira, standing beside him, speaking to him, analyzing him without ever realizing how close he truly was.Â
A game. Thatâs all it was, and Juhoon? He had never lost a game. Not once, and especially not now. With you integrated into his system, the outcome felt even more certain. There were fewer unknowns now, fewer risks left unaccounted for. You filled in the spaces he couldnât reach without exposure, extended his reach without compromising his position.
You made him untouchable. At leastâthatâs what he believed. Because from where he stood, everything was working exactly as it should. Every move leading into the next, every piece falling into place with precision so clean it felt inevitable. There was no room for failure, no space for something unforeseen. No possibility that something as unpredictable as you could ever become anything more than what he had already defined.
Interesting, really. Almost like a cat chasing its own tail. The more distance Juhoon put between himself and Kira, the more convincing it becameâJuhoon canât be kira. The sharper his criticism, the easier it was for everyone to believe it. Disapproval looked like innocence, hatred looked like truth, and to everyone else, it worked perfectly.
But not to James.
Because the problem with something that perfectâŚwas that it stopped feeling natural. It became deliberate, it became measured and it became controlled in a way that didnât belong to ordinary people.
James had noticed it early on, long before anyone else even considered the possibility. The way Juhoon spoke about Kiraânot emotionally, not impulsively, but with a precision that felt rehearsed. Like every opinion had already been filtered before it was spoken. Like every reaction had been chosen, not felt.
It wasnât suspicion at first. Not fully formed, just something off. A detail that didnât sit right or a pattern that refused to disappear. And James was the kind of person who didnât ignore things like that. He watched Juhoon more closely after that. Not obviously, not enough to alert himâbut enough. Small things. Small things such as timing and reactions. The way certain conversations seemed to interest him more than they should. The way others didnât interest him at all.
It didnât add up.
Because if Juhoon was just another student, just another mind in the room, there would be inconsistencies, hesitation, gaps in understanding. But there werenât. There was only control. And control, when it appeared too often, stopped looking like coincidence. It started looking like intent. James didnât have proof. Not yet. Nothing concrete, nothing he could present to anyone else without being dismissed. But that didnât matter. He didnât need certainty to begin. He only needed direction. And right now, all of it pointed back to one person. Juhoon. It was almost as if Juhoon was working with something that didnât existâa supernatural for instance. That threw James off. He was playing a game without knowing its rules. But James? He wonât lose either.Â
Juhoon knew that James knew. Not as suspicion, not as theoryâbut as something quietly certain, sitting between them without proof. It wasnât enough to act on, but it was enough to wait on. And thatâbeing watched, not exposedâwas what irritated him.
You noticed it first. The pacing. The way he kept moving across the room like standing still would slow his thoughts down. You didnât interrupt right awayâyou just watched, eyes fixed on him, following every turn, every shift, like nothing else existed outside of him.
âJuhoon, whatâs wrong?â
He stopped, just slightly off-beat, like your voice had pulled him back a second too late. His gaze flicked to youâblank, controlled, unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing. Thenâ âHe knows.âÂ
The words were quite certain. He moved toward you, slower now, like he had already adjusted back into control, and sat down beside you without breaking eye contact. âHe doesnât have proof,â he continued, voice low, measured. âThatâs the only reason this is stillâŚfunctional.â A pause. His jaw tightened slightly, just enough to notice. âHeâs reckless though,â he muttered, irritation slipping through. âWho the fuck says it out like that?â
You shifted closer instantly, like the distance itself bothered you, your knee brushing against his, your hand finding his sleeve without thinkingâholding onto him like that alone could ground him, or maybe ground you.
âThen kill him.â No hesitation, no doubt. Just certainty
His gaze snapped to you, sharper now, something cutting through the calm. âYou think I havenât considered that?â He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, fingers pressing together like he was containing something that refused to stay still. âIf I kill him now, it confirms everything,â he said, quieter now, controlled againâbut tighter. âThatâs exactly what he wants.â
You frowned, your grip on his sleeve tightening just a little. âI donât care.â Your voice dropped, softerâbut not weaker. If anything, it felt more intense like that. âI donât like the way he talks to you.â
It wasnât about the plan, it wasnât about Kira, it was about him.
Juhoonâs gaze flickered down to your hand for a second, resting against him, holding onto him like you belonged thereâlike you had every right to. âYou donât need to like it,â he said, looking back at you. âYou just need to listen.â
âAnd if I donât?â You didnât pull away. If anything, you leaned closer, eyes locked onto his like you were daring him to say it.
There was a pause. Not longâbut heavy. Juhoon turned slightly toward you, the space between you closing without either of you acknowledging it. His voice didnât rise. âThen you become a problem.â
The words shouldâve created distance. They didnât. If anything, they pulled you in further.
Your grip didnât loosen. You didnât look away. You didnât hesitate. âI wonât,â you said quietly. A beat. âNot if itâs you.â
And just like thatâno argument, no resistance, no second thoughtâyou gave in again. Not because he forced you to. But because you would always choose him. And Juhoon knew it. That was the problem and the advantage.Â
The shift didnât feel dramatic when it started. It wasnât a single mistake, not something obvious enough to point at and fix. It was smaller than thatâquieter, a tightening of space, a pattern that stopped behaving the way it should. Conversations between Juhoon & James lingered longer than necessary, eyes stayed on him just a second too long, movements around him became just slightly too coordinated to be coincidence.
Juhoon noticed, of course he did. He always noticed.
At first, he adjusted the ways he had. Minor corrections, slight deviations, a change in timing, a different selection of targets, small inconsistencies planted deliberately into his own behavior to break whatever pattern James thought he had found.
It should have worked. It always worked. But this timeâit didnât. Because James wasnât looking for patterns anymore. He was looking at himâŚ.and that changed everything.
The realization settled slowly, not as panic, not as fearâbut as irritation. Sharp, precise, controlled irritation that built under his skin without ever reaching the surface. James wasnât guessing anymore. He wasnât circling the possibility.
He had decided and now he was waiting. Waiting for Juhoon to slip, waiting for something real. And that was the problem because Juhoon didnât slip. He didnât hesitate. He didnât make mistakes. So why wasnât this ending? The thought lingered longer than it should have, and that alone was enough to make something inside James tighten. It shouldnât be like this. It should already be over.
The first and last mistake happened in the basement of an abandoned building. Juhoon had set it up himself, confident in the system heâd built. With Mikami acting in his placeâhe would kill people with the death note. So, people kept dying exactly on schedule, even while Juhoon stayed beside James. It was the perfect cover, Juhoon spent sleepless nights in Jamesâ office trying to solve a case he set up. After all, what better way to avoid suspicion than to let Kira keep killingâŚwhile youâre standing right next to the man trying to catch him?
It was late enough for the area to feel empty, the kind of quiet that stretched too wide, too hollow. Concrete pillars, dim lighting, the faint echo of footsteps that didnât belong to just one person.
Juhoon slowed down his steps. Not visibly. Not enough for anyone watching to notice. But internallyâeverything sharpened. Too quiet, too controlled. Tooâset. He stopped walking. Not abruptly, just enough to shift the rhythm. And thenâmovement. It wasnât accidental, it was deliberate.
They stepped out almost in sync. From behind pillars, from the blind spots he had already mapped out in his head. Positions that werenât chosen casually. Angles that closed distance instead of leaving space. It was a clean and organised formation. It had been rehearsed before.
Juhoonâs gaze flickered onceâand landed exactly where it needed toâJames. Somewhere far away, he saw Mikami tooâhe saw him running away. James was standing just far enough away to not look threatened. Just close enough to make it clearâthis wasnât a coincidence.
Silence settled between them for half a second too long.
ThenââThis is the end isnât it Juhoon, or my apologies, you are justice itself arenât you? Let me rephrase my sentence. This is the end, isn't it Kira?.â His tone calm, almost conversational.
Juhoon didnât respond immediately. This wasnât suspicion anymore, this was certainty. He exhaled once, slow, controlled ââŚYouâre early,â he said finally, voice even.
James tilted his head slightly, studying him in a way that felt almost curious. âAm I?âÂ
âYouâve been careful,â James continued. âToo careful.â
Juhoonâs gaze didnât waver. âAnd youâve been watching,â he replied.
âOf course.â Another step forward. âThatâs what you do when something doesnât make sense.â
Something almost resembling a smile touched Juhoonâs expressionâbut it didnât reach his eyes. âAnd I donât make sense?â he asked.
âNo,â James said simply. A pause. Then, quieterââYou make too much sense.â
That was it, confirmation. Not evidence, not proof, but certainty. James realised he wasnât against anything normalâinfact it was anything but normal. A shinigami? A book that kills people by just having their names written in it? bizarre. For the first timeâJuhoon understood. This wasnât something he could outplay from here, not like this. Not surrounded. Notânow. The realization didnât show on his face. But internallyâ everything shifted. Shifted too fast. This wasnât a situation to win. It was a situation to escape.
And that meant one thing.
You.Â
He needed you. He canât depend on you but fuck does he need you right now. You can write everyone's names in the death note. You can save him. Save Juhoon, your Juhoon.
It happened in less than a second. A step backâmisdirection, a shift in weightâcalculated. And thenâmovement. He didnât hesitate, didnât look back, didnât engage.
He ran.
Footsteps exploded behind him almost instantly, echoing violently against the concrete, shouts cutting through the silence he had just broken.
âStop!â
He didnât. He knew better than to waste time on commands that didnât matter. His mind was already ahead, mapping routes, calculating distances, identifying the one path that wasnât fully closed.. He moved like he had already seen it happen, like this had already been decided. The air hit him the second he broke out, sharp and cold against his skin, his breathing controlled despite the speed, despite the chase closing in behind him.
Car. Keys. Engine. Go.
The tires screeched against the pavement as he pulled out, too fast, too sharpâbut precise enough to not lose control. Not yet. The mirrors. Two vehicles, noâthree. Super close behind him. Closer than they should be. He turned hard, cutting into traffic without warning, horns blaring, headlights flashing, everything around him collapsing into noise.
Irrelevant. All of it.
His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles whiteningânot from fear, but from calculation pushed to its limit. This wasnât supposed to happen. Not like this. Not this soon. Jamesâhe adjusted faster than expected. Too fast. Which meant this wasnât salvageable through normal means. He needed certainty. And there was only one way to get that now.
You.
The drive blurred. Lights stretched into streaks, turns taken too sharply, speed pushing past what should have been safe. The sound of pursuit didnât fadeâit stayed, constant, relentless, pressing against him like a countdown he couldnât see but could feel.
Every second mattered, every delay narrowed his options. He couldnât afford delay. He couldnât affordâfailure. The thought didnât sit right. Didnât settle, didnât belong. Because he didnât fail. He didnât lose. He didnâtâ The car swerved violently, barely avoiding another vehicle, the impact missed by inches.
Fuck Focus.
By the time he reached your street, the world had narrowed into something unrecognizable. Too fast, too loud. He didnât park properlyâdidnât care enough to. The door slammed behind him as he moved, steps quick, unevenânot from hesitation, but from urgency pushed past control.
Your door.
He didnât knock, didnât wait. It opened under his hand, forceful, immediateâ and there you were. For a secondâeverything stopped. Not the world, not the situation. Justâhim. Because you were there. Unaware, unhurt, untouched by the chaos that had already swallowed him whole.
Your expression shifted the moment you saw him. âJuhoonâ?â
He didnât let you finish. âMake the deal.â
The words came out sharp. There was no greeting.
You blinked, caught off guard, confusion flashing across your face. âWhat?â
âNow.â A deep inhale âMake the deal with Rem. Now.â
Something in his voice wasnât right. Not soft, not emotional. Butâ strained. Like something was slipping and he was forcing it back into place with nothing but will. He was scared.
You didnât move immediately, just stared at him. Processing and thatâthat hesitation snapped something.
âWhy are you hesitating?â His voice sharpened, stepping closer again, too close now, hands gripping your shoulders before you could react. âDo you understand the situation right now?â
His grip tightened. âDo it.â
Behind youâRem shifted. Silently, he was watchingâŚwaiting. Because he couldnât interfere. He never did. You looked at Juhoon again, really looked this time. At the tension in his expression. At the way his controlâperfect, unbreakable controlâwasnât gone, but cracking at the edges.
And something in youâsettled.
âWill it help you win?â you asked quietly.
One second, that was all it took.
âYes.â
No hesitation, no doubt. Just certainty. And that was enough.
âRem.â Your voice was steady. âIâll make the deal.â
Rem didnât move immediately. Didnât speak. But his presence shifted, something heavier settling into the space around you, something final. âYou understand what this means,â he said finally.
You didnât look at him. âI do.â
Your gaze stayed on Juhoon, only him. Always him.
âThen do it.â
The moment it happenedâthere was no warning. No buildup, no visible change. Just absence. Your body went still. You collapsed. The thud of your body hitting the cold hardwood floor echoed. And for the first time since this beganâJuhoon didnât move.
âNo, no no no.â His voice was shaking. He knelt down to your bodyâunmoving, lifeless. âRem, what happened, what went wrong?âÂ
âHer lifespan ran out.â
For a second, the words didnât register. They justâŚhung there. Empty. Meaningless. Juhoonâs hands tightened around you, fingers pressing into your shoulders like he could force something back into place, like this was something that could still be corrected.
âWhat?â
His voice came out quieter this time. Controlled. Too controlled. âWhat do you mean her lifespan ran out?â
Rem didnât look away. âThat was the cost.â
Silence. ThenââYou didnât tell me.â It wasnât loud, it wasnât a shout. It was worse. Low, sharp. Each word cut clean, like he was forcing them out one at a time.
Remâs expression didnât change. âI couldnât.â
Juhoonâs head snapped up, his gaze locking onto him. âCouldnât?â
âThat is not something Iâm allowed to disclose,â Rem replied. âIt violates the rules.â
âThe rules?â Juhoon let out a short, disbelieving breath, something almost like a laugh slipping throughâbut there was nothing amused about it. âYouâre telling me she justâdiesâand you say nothing because of rules?â His grip on you tightened again, like he was anchoring himself to something that was already gone. âThat was relevant,â he continued, voice rising now, cracks beginning to show through the control he had spent so long maintaining. âThat information was relevant to me.â
Rem didnât move. âIt wasnât mine to give.â
The words landed heavier than they should have. Because there was no argument to make against that. No loophole, no correction. Nothing to fix.
And for the first timeâJuhoon had nothing.Â
The silence that followed wasnât calm. It was suffocating. His gaze dropped back to you. You werenât moving. Of course you werenât, but something in himâstill expected it. A breath, a shift.
Anything.
You had always responded. You always moved, always followed. You were supposed toâhis fingers twitched slightly against your arm. Nothing, no pulse. He paused, longer this time. Thenâsomething in his mind started moving again.
Fragments, not thoughts. You gave him your notebook, you followed every instruction, you didnât hesitate, you didnât question. Youâyou made the deal. For him. The realization didnât come gently, it hit him all at once. It was unavoidable. Every step, every choice, every moment that led hereâall of it pointed to the same thing. You had given him everything. And heâhe had used it. Of course he had. That was the plan. That was always the plan.
So whyâwhy did this feelâwrong? His hand stilled completely. For the first time since this beganâhe wasnât thinking ahead. He wasnât calculating. There was no next move. No adjustment, no correction.
Justâabsence.
And it was louder than anything he had ever heard.
The door slammed open. The sound shattered the moment instantly, sharp and violent against the silence.
âDonât move!â
The fast and controlled footsteps closed in. Juhoon didnât react immediately, didnât turn, didnât stand. He just stayed thereâ looking at you.
Thenâ âKira.â
That voiceâŚright behind him.
âHands up.â
Slowly, Juhoonâs head lifted, not fully but just enough. His mind tried to catch up, to reassemble, to rebuild something out of what was leftâbut it wasnât fast enough. Not this time, not without you. His hand slipped from your arm. He pushed himself up. Not smoothly, not controlled. Justâfast. It was instinct. Move fast and get out of thisÂ
He turnedâa sharp crack cut through the air. Pain exploded through his system instantly, electricity ripping through his body before he could react, muscles locking, control ripped away in a second. He hit the ground hard, everything blurred. Voices layered over each other. Movement, hands and pressure forcing him down.
His cheek pressed against the cold floor, vision unfocused, body refusing to respond no matter how hard he tried to force it. For a secondâhe couldnât breathe. And thenâsomething broke.
âWhere are you Ynââ His voice came out raw, strained. Not controlled, not calculated.
âWhere are you, Yn?!â
Silence answered him. And that was worse than anything.
Laterâit was quiet again. Not the same kind of quiet, this one had finality. still, unmoving.
A different kind of end. Juhoon sat there, restrained, unmovingâbut his mindâŚhis mind wasnât where it should have been. Not on escape, not on strategy, not on winning. For the first timeâ there was nothing left to calculate.
A figure leaned back against the wall, watching him, grinning. Ryuk tilted his head slightly, amusement clear in his expression. âWellâŚJuhoon.â
His voice echoed lightly through the space, almost casual. âThat was fun.â A pause. âBut this?â He glanced around, then back at him. âWell, Juhoon, it's been interesting. We eased each other's boredom for quite a while. It was good while it lasted.â
Juhoon didnât respond, didnât move, didnât even look at him. Ryuk hummed thoughtfully, pulling out his notebook. âI donât really feel like watching you rot in a cell forever.â A pause, âGuess this is where it ends.â
The pen touched the page, slow, deliberate. Juhoonâs name was written first. And just like thatâthe game was over. He died from cardiac arrest 40 seconds later.
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you can't kill me.. just give it up.

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going insane <3
Cat on Will being the "frat house president" and Misa being a snitch
[transcript under the cut]
Cat: Um... And it just reminded me of this past week, Ty had his 900th, that's what we talked about last week on the pod, it's always scary to say that out loud before it happensâ
Julie: Yeah.
Cat: âbut it happened, against LA. Um, and, here's a funny thing about living with a teenager. So, it was an 8pm game against LA, and I didn't know if guys would wanna hang out after? You know? 'Cause you always wanna likeâ
Julie: Right.
Cat: âcelebrate a little bit. So, our house kinda becomes like a frat house, right? Like, everyone kinda just [chuckles] comes over to our house, like, it's just a frat house, and if there was a president of this frat house, it would be Will Smith.
Julie: [chuckles]
Cat: So, I told Will, I was like, if guys wanna come overâ
Julie: Oh...
Cat: âand just, you know, hang with Ty a little bit after the game, like, let them know, but it's a surprise. Like, make it a surprise, if it doesn't happen it's fine. I get it, it's late. You know?
Julie: Yeah.
Cat: It's a tough schedule this year. So, the day of the game, Ty comes home, and... after his practice. And he goes, "Guess what our child just told me." I was like, what...
Julie: [chuckles]
Cat: He's like, he just told me that uh, Will told him that, all the guys are coming over after the game to surprise me! I was likeâ
Julie: [laughs] Oh... Michael...
Cat: âso Michael just told you, the...the...the surprise? And he was like yep. That's what it's like living [laughs] with an 18 year old...
Julie: Come on, Michael!
Cat: [laughs] Yeah. But it was cute. They all came over just for a little bit, and you know just like. We had cupcakes and stuff, [chuckles] it was cute.





