#but the cure was what she was after. and who would Joel be to pull her away from what they were on their journey for

[skoulsons]

“It can’t be for nothing.”

And it wasn’t. Because they found each other.

[alwaysmicado]

Trouble

5.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 5

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, D/s dynamic, rough oral (m receiving), spitting, cum eating, leg humping, degradation/praise, humiliation kink, pet names, aftercare, feelings Summary: After you’ve distracted Joel from work with your explicit texts all day, he decides to teach you a lesson.  A/N: Consensual degradation & humiliation – my beloved. This one's for you if you're into unadulterated filth with feelings sprinkled on top hehe. Let me know what you think, I love hearing your thots! 🤍

pt. 1 ・ pt. 2 ・ pt. 3 ・ pt. 4 ・ series masterlist

“You sure you got nothing else to say to me?”

“I’m—sorry?”

“No,” he tilts his head and you see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”

---

“Sneaking out for a hot date?” 

Busted. 

You sigh and turn around to face Kristen’s triumphant grin. Beautiful Kristen. The only person at your job with a bearable personality. 

If you only had Janice from accounting and her incessant yapping about her feral kids, or John from HR and his never-ending tirades against “modern women”, you probably would have burnt down the building already.  

Kristen’s been your lifeline over the past two years at this job. She’s upbeat, fun, a gifted painter and the closest thing to a female friend you have. 

Her only flaw: she’s so nosy it’s not even funny.

After your get-well-fuck with Joel three days ago where he left multiple marks on your neck, you not only plastered a bunch of foundation over the purple reminders of his fever-fueled nipping, you also wore a silk scarf which, in hindsight, was a dumb idea.

The first thing you were welcomed with when you came in that morning was an enthusiastic “You go, girl!” followed by giggling after Kristen saw your unimpressed face. 

You shoot her a half-hearted smile and raise an eyebrow. “Who says it’s a date?” 

Kristen’s grin widens. “Oh, come on! You think I don’t notice the way you giggle at your phone like a lovesick idiot?”

“Oh, shut up,” you protest in mock offense. What the hell is she talking about? You don’t do that. “I got a doctor’s appointment. Nothing hot about that,” you say nonchalantly.

Kristen leans in, lowering her voice dramatically. “A doctor, huh? Do you have an ache only he can cure with his special tool?”

“You’re a pervert, you know that?” 

“Yeah, duh. That’s why you love me,” she chuckles, causing the corners of your own lips to twitch. 

“Well,” she smirks, “I hope the doctor will take the best care of you.” 

You roll your eyes at her teasing, grab your bag and blow her a kiss before heading out. You leave the office with a grin, reveling in the sunshine that greets you when you step out.

The warmth of the day feels refreshing against your skin as you stroll to the parking lot. Your dress, despite being a result of prolonged laundry procrastination, is surprisingly comfortable, allowing you to appreciate the light breeze that rustles its fabric. 

The sun casts a golden hue on the cityscape and you can't help but smile at the small pleasures of life – the sun on your face, a staff meeting getting canceled earlier, finding twenty bucks in an old pair of jeans this morning.

Life is okay at the moment.

Despite work kicking your ass, your mother trying to guilt-trip you into coming “home” and the last hookup you had throwing you out in the middle of the goddamn night because his wife came home from her business trip early.

You’re feeling good. 

One might even say you’re happy.

If only there wasn’t this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders when you see your Uber pull up. Get yourself together. 

The car winds through the city streets, and as you give Joel's address to the driver, you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation. The engine hums softly as you navigate the familiar turns, presenting the perfect background to lose yourself in a daydream.

As you settle into the comfort of your bed, the world outside fades away. In the gentle embrace of your imagination, you feel a figure appear behind you. Their warmth is a soothing balm, and as they pull you close, a profound sense of security envelops you. The weight of the world, of your being lifts, replaced by the tender reassurance of this ethereal embrace.

In this imagined sanctuary, sleep finds you easily, cradled in the arms of solace. The whispered promise of warmth and safety lingers, allowing dreams to unfold like petals, undisturbed and serene in the soft glow of moonlight.

The notification sound of your phone pulls you back to reality. Glancing at the screen, you see Joel's name. You open the message and involuntarily press your thighs together, your pulse quickening instantly. 

Door’s open. Get naked, then come upstairs.You’re in real trouble, angel.

---

The familiar scent of Joel’s home greets you when you step inside. It smells more like home than your apartment or any other place you’ve lived in since you were a child. Safe, warm, comforting – like its owner. And it’s a surprisingly well-decorated and welcoming home for a bachelor.

So much so that you asked him flat out if he had a wife on your first night together.

You take your shoes off and put your bag on the couch in the living room before heading to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands and quickly check if you look presentable. Your eyes are a bit swollen from lack of restful sleep, but other than that, you’re good to go.

As you take your dress, bra and panties off, you somewhat fondly remember the last time Joel ordered you to his home because you were sending him filthy texts and photos while you both were at work. 

You spent thirty minutes sitting still on his lap while he worked on his computer, his throbbing cock buried deep inside you. Every time he would shift in his chair a little, you would whimper into the crook of his neck and he would whisper into your ear how well you were doing for him and draw soothing circles on your back with his palm.

You hated and loved every torturous second of it. 

The office door is open when you come upstairs. Your eyes widen when you see Joel sitting at his desk. It’s incredible how handsome he looks. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, blue gym shorts and his glasses as he’s staring at the computer and typing something with his index fingers.

Your heart starts beating faster as you take him in, the domesticity of this scene giving you an unexpectedly warm feeling deep within you. 

“You just gonna stand there and stare at me?” Joel asks with a swivel of his chair, his body now facing yours. He saw you out of the corner of his eye before but now that he’s getting a good look at you, his jaw almost hits the floor.

He will never get used to seeing you naked. 

“God, you’re so much more beautiful in real life,” he murmurs, his pupils blown wide and the admiration in his voice unmistakable.

You give him a satisfied smile as you lean against the doorframe. “I sure hope so,” you tease. 

“Do you know why you’re here, darlin’?” Joel asks with a tilt of his head, his brow slightly furrowed.

“I’m assuming it has something to do with the silly little texts and pics I sent you to brighten up your day,” you say, feigning innocence. “Did you like them?” 

“You really think now’s the time to be a brat, huh?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Alright, then.” His eyes sparkle dangerously as he sits back in his chair and spreads his legs wider.

“You sure you got nothing else to say to me?”

“I’m—sorry?”

“No,” he tilts his head and you see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”

You bite your lip as your eyes focus on the visible bulge in Joel’s shorts, and try to suppress the huge grin that’s threatening to spread across your face. This is exactly what you wanted and you both know it.

“Hands and knees, baby,” Joel orders calmly and puts his hands on his thighs. “C’mere.”

You lower yourself on all fours without hesitation and crawl towards him slowly, making sure to sway your hips and never break eye contact. Joel’s the only person you’d put yourself in such a submissive position for and you revel in the exhilarating feeling it gives you.

Joel keeps his eyes trained on you, subtly rubbing his thighs as you come closer to where he’s needed you all day. His eyes are dark and full of need as he licks his lips and follows the mesmerizing movement of your body. He likes how you, despite your brattiness, know perfectly well where your place is. 

“Look at what you did,” he says, once you’re kneeling on all fours between his spread legs. He palms his throbbing cock over the fabric and your eyes widen a little, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“That's right, baby, you did this. And now you need to take responsibility for your actions.” He gently caresses your cheek, tracing your lips with his thumb.

When he presses on your lower lip, you instinctively open your mouth enough for his finger to slip inside. He presses on your tongue, admiring the feeling and your willingness to submit.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, gently rubbing his cock. “Such a little slut, always wants something in her mouth.”

He moves his thumb further along your tongue, causing you to furrow your brow and gag a little. “You couldn't help yourself, huh, just had to put on a show all day like the needy whore you are.” 

He takes his thumb out of your mouth and pulls his shorts all the way down, letting them fall on the floor next to his chair. His heavy cock flops against his lower belly, causing you to swallow and part your lips instinctively. Joel smirks at your reaction, enjoying the raw need sparkling in your eyes as he strokes himself slowly.

You start squirming, pressing your thighs together to alleviate at least some of the uncomfortable ache between your legs, and let out an almost inaudible whine as Joel continuously strokes up and down his length while looking at you curiously. 

He leans in and tilts your chin up, his dark eyes boring into you.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He asks softly, feigning concern. He looks from you to his cock and back, raising an eyebrow. “All of this just because you’re a pathetic little cockslut with nothing else in her dumb little head than my cock. Isn’t that right, angel?”

You nod slowly, your lips slightly parted, hypnotized by Joel’s big eyes and filthy words.  

“Use your words, slut,” he growls, gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head up even more. 

“I just—wanted you so bad, I–” 

“Aww, of course you did,” he teases you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me your safeword, angel.” 

He looks into your eyes intently as you say it out loud, then puts a soft kiss on your lips. You whimper when he withdraws, the feeling of his warm lips lingering. 

“Open up,” he orders with a tap of his fingers to your bottom lip. “Stick your tongue out for me.” 

You obey and do as he says, looking into his eyes expectantly. You watch in awe and pure need as the thick glob of saliva makes its way down from Joel’s mouth and lands on the back of your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel it run down your throat. 

“Swallow.” He gently puts a strand of hair behind your ear as you show him your empty mouth. “Good girl.”

You moan softly at his praise and furrow your brow when your eyes find his cock again. 

“You really want it, huh,” Joel purrs, trailing your neck and chest gently with his hands. When he brushes your nipples, you wince a little, eliciting a low chuckle from him. “Spread your legs, baby. Let me see your little pussy.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath, his cock twitching impatiently when you sit back on your heels and present your glistening folds.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, tracing your belly all the way down to your mound and stopping right before touching your clit. “Must’ve been uncomfortable to sit in that all day, hm?” 

He gently pulls your lips apart with his thumbs and index fingers, inspecting you closely. “Your little clit is so swollen, baby, does it hurt?” 

“Mhm,” you whine, his touch so close to your neglected bundle of nerves torturing you beyond belief. “It–it hurts so bad, Sir.” 

“Hmm,” he searches your eyes, “and that’s why you thought it was a good idea to send me all those naughty messages?” He spreads your lips apart further, eliciting a long moan from you. “You thought I’d fuck you if you did?”

“Y–yes,” you stammer, your legs trembling, “I’m sor–”

You’re cut off when Joel lets go of your lips and swipes his fingers through your dripping wet folds agonizingly slowly, once, twice, three times, barely brushing your pulsating clit. 

Listening to the noises you make and feeling your hot cunt on his hand is enough to make him almost come, despite his cock not having any contact at the moment. His eyes never leave yours as you whimper desperately, his barely there touch enough to build your long overdue orgasm.

“Go on, angel,” he withdraws his hand and holds his hand up to your lips, “clean up the mess you made.”

He pushes his wet fingers into your mouth, forcing you to suck your own juices off of him. You do so eagerly, sucking and licking his fingers, moaning around them. 

“You would’ve sucked my cock in front of everyone if I had let you, huh.” You let out a desperate moan, feeling your pussy get wetter at the thought. “That’s right, baby,” Joel chuckles. “Show everyone you’re my little cockslut.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, satisfied with the job you did, then grabs your chin hard, his wet fingers pressing into your hot cheeks.

“You want it so bad, baby? Then beg for it.” 

“Please,” you whine. “Please let me suck your cock, please, I–I want your cock so bad—”

“All yours, baby.”

He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, looking at you through lidded eyes. 

“Fuuuck, that’s it,” Joel groans as you start licking and sucking at his balls, then lightly trace the veins of his cock with your warm tongue, swirling it around the tip, licking up the salty precum. You look at him expectantly as you lick up and down his length, fondling his balls with your hand. 

He smiles at the needy look in your eyes, finding it unbelievably hot that you want to, need to hear his praise so badly even though it’s obvious that everything you do to him is and feels beyond perfect. 

“Good girl,” he says softly, eliciting a little whimper from you. “Now stop teasing and take it.”

You immediately hold him up by the base and take the tip into your mouth, sucking on it eagerly. You take him further, inch by inch, bobbing your head up and down his shaft until he’s nudging the back of your throat. Your eyes well over with tears as you gag around his cock. Joel groans in response, his whole body tensing as he tangles his hands in your hair.

You make a surprised sound when he leans over you and pushes your head down until your nose is rubbing his pubic hair, giving you no chance to move your head. He keeps his length buried deep inside you for a few seconds before pulling you up, a thick string of saliva mixed with precum connecting you two, only to push you right back down.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Joel pants as you choke and whine loudly. 

He pulls your head back up to let you catch your breath and make sure you’re enjoying yourself as much as he is. He knows from the look in your eyes that you are, but he wants to make sure before you continue. 

“What’s your color, angel?” 

You look at him with bleary eyes, but give him a dazed smile and whisper, “Green.”

Joel nods and caresses your wet cheeks, wiping away some of your tears with his thumbs. 

He traces your swollen lips with the head of his cock, loving the way his precum sticks to them. 

“Breathe through your nose, baby,” he pants. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”

You wrap your lips around his head, swirl your tongue around it, then bob your head again – messily, sloppily, just the way he likes it. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, thrusting his hips to slide in and out of your mouth, smiling at you and petting your hair. “Such a perfect little fleshlight.”

You tremble and moan around him, not entirely sure if his filthy mouth, his groaning, or the fact that he’s using you for his pleasure  is turning you on the most. You just know you love it when he holds your head steady and fucks your mouth roughly, taking what he wants from you, making you gag and choke, saliva and tears running down your cheeks, chin, neck, and body.

You look like a masterpiece. 

“I’m close, baby,” Joel pants, your perfect, wet mouth and the admiration he sees in your big, wet eyes making him tremble every time he thrusts his hips into you. You push him right over the edge when you squeeze his balls hard. 

He comes with a strangled groan, shooting rope after rope of warm cum down your throat and onto your tongue. You welcome it with eager moans, so far gone that you don’t realize what you’re doing until after it’s too late — you swallow it all without his permission.

Fatal mistake. 

Joel grabs you by your hair, pulling you off his pulsating cock, still breathing heavily.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Your eyes widen in shock, your lip quivering. “I–I'm sorry, I–I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Joel sighs and raises his eyebrows. He loosens his grip in your hair and looks at your eyes welling up with tears. You stumble over your words as you keep apologizing over and over again. You’re so perfect like this. 

“What’s your color, baby?” 

“Green, Sir,” you sniffle. “It’s green.”

“Now what am I supposed to do with a fleshlight that doesn’t work right, hm?” He tilts your chin up and rubs it softly with his thumb. “Do you think you deserve to get fucked?”

“I’m—please, I'll be good, I promise,” you choke out through tears and hiccups. “Please, I’ll do anything you want, just please—”

Joel smirks and leans back in his chair. “No need to tell me that, angel. I know you’ll do anything.” He lifts his foot between your thighs, eliciting a small, needy noise from you when he presses it against your swollen cunt.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All from being used, hm?”

“Yes, Sir,” you whine, wiping your cheeks and trying your hardest to stay still. “Thank you.”

“Such a pathetic little slut.” He rubs his foot against your folds, and you moan, closing your eyes, your lips trembling, your face hot from embarrassment and arousal. Joel presses harder and you cry out, your hips jerking instinctively. 

“Pathetic enough to hump my leg?”

He snorts when he sees the stunned look on your face. You are definitely startled, but you don't protest. Joel can see a mix of hesitation and need in your eyes, and he understands that he needs to push you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he says, gently petting your hair, “so you better thank me for letting you come at all.”

He sighs and pulls your head back by your hair when you don’t answer fast enough. 

“Use your words, slut.”

“Th–thank you,” you whimper. “I–I just–” You trail off, too shocked and embarrassed to finish your sentence, your voice trembling as you babble unintelligibly.

You hear Joel say your name and feel him cup your cheeks. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You sniffle and try to focus on his eyes. “Tell me your color,” he says gently, his deep voice soothing your nerves. 

“Still green,” you breathe, swallowing hard. 

He searches your eyes and nods before sitting back up and extending his leg a little.

“Go on, then.”

You look at the satisfied smirk on his face before taking a deep breath and scooting forward, adjusting yourself against Joel’s leg. Gripping Joel’s thigh for balance, you tilt your hips forward until your clit makes contact with his hairy leg. You shudder at the feeling, a needy little moan escaping your lips. 

Joel’s pupils are so blown, his eyes are completely black now. 

You slowly drag your hips upward and duck your head, embarrassed that you’re actually enjoying this – and that you’re this wet. After slowly rocking your hips up and down a few times, you can’t keep yourself from moaning anymore. It feels to fucking good.

You shift a little and allow yourself to set a pace that will make you come. You nuzzle your face against Joel’s thigh and don’t hold back anymore, rutting against his leg with abandon, chasing your release. 

“That’s it, angel,” Joel purrs, gently brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well for me.”

You rock your hips against his leg over and over again, your brows furrowed, whimpering desperately as you grind your wet folds against Joel’s leg, the friction causing your whole body to shudder.

Joel fucking loves seeing you like this; pliant, obedient, wanting to be good so badly that you’d do anything to please him. Most of all, though, he loves how much you trust him. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises, tilting your chin up to look into your glazed over eyes. “My good girl.”

You moan at his words, your fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs, your hips jerking frantically, desperate for release. Joel smiles softly at your reaction, reveling in the fact that he's ruining you for anyone else.

He fucking delights in it.

“That’s right, angel. Keep looking at me with those beautiful eyes.”

You barely hear what he says as your breathing comes out in noisy, deep gasps, too far gone, too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed at fucking yourself on Joel’s leg. There are no thoughts left in your brain, your only focus now is chasing your climax.

“Feels good, huh? Such a spoiled brat, aren’t you,” he taunts, marveling at your blissed out expression and the sheen of sweat glistening on your naked body.

“You think you deserve to come, hm? Even though you’re just a dumb little whore, only good for taking my cock in all her holes?”

That’s almost enough right there to tip you over the edge. 

“Tell me what you are.”

You let out a choked sob, fresh tears making their way down your cheeks. Joel wipes them away with his thumbs as you stutter, “I’m–I’m your dumb little whore, Sir. I’m all yours — please, please–”

He gives you a warm smile as his dark eyes bore into. “Come for me, angel.”

You press your throbbing clit hard against him, humping his leg feverishly until the tension finally snaps and shockwaves grip your whole body, your legs trembling as you moan uncontrollably. Your walls contract around nothing as you collapse onto Joel’s thigh and start sobbing.

It’s all too much right now. 

He immediately draws you into his strong arms, lifting you up and cradling you. “Shh, sweetheart,” he purrs, holding you tight and stroking your hair, “you did so well. Are you alright, hm? You want me to go get you a towel?”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion of him leaving you, causing you to shake your head fervently, your tears flowing freely now as you gradually come down from your high. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby” he coos, putting soft kisses on the top of your head and rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

You're still naked and Joel wants you to feel comfortable and warm, so he swivels you two towards the couch to snag the blanket and drape it over you. He holds you close, whispering into your hair how well you did and how good you are, intermittently pressing soft kisses on your wet face. 

You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath, a comforting rhythm that wraps around you like a protective cocoon. The warmth emanating from his body seeps into yours, making you feel calm and protected. 

Joel’s not surprised that you need physical affection and closeness right now, knowing that humiliation is one of the most effective ways to make you fly – and crash.

Falling apart in front of somebody, allowing them to see you in such a raw, uninhibited state, is an incredibly vulnerable act.

Joel is not taking your trust lightly. 

When he sees you wipe your nose with your arm, he swivels you back to his desk and opens the drawer to get you some tissues. Your heart skips a beat when you see what else is inside, but you keep quiet. 

“Was I really good?” You mumble after listening to Joel’s calming heartbeat for a few minutes.

“You were perfect, baby,” he says softly, pressing a tender kiss on the crown of your head. 

“So, can you fuck me now?”

The vibrations of Joel’s chuckles reverberate beneath you, making you laugh yourself. 

“How about we make sure you drink enough and eat something first, hm?”

“Just say that your refractory period is getting longer, old man.” 

“Why, hello,” he laughs and pinches your sides, making you squeal, “the princess is back.” You lift your head to look into his eyes. His beautiful, warm eyes. “You think I’ll fuck you if you keep being a brat, hm?” 

“That’s exactly what I think. Because you always do. Because you love it.” 

“Wow,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “All this just now and you’re still sassing me?”

“Just admit you fucking love it, so we can move on and decide what we wanna have for dinner,” you murmur. 

Joel can’t hold back the beaming smile that’s spreading across his face.

Save for last time, you usually leave shortly after you’ve come down. He’ll sometimes ask if you want to stay a bit, but will never pressure you into doing so – even if it hurts him. 

And it does, sometimes, if he’s being honest. 

“Alright, alright,” he sighs deeply, his smile betraying his mocking tone. “I fucking love it when you’re a little brat and torture me all fucking day, making me sit in a fucking meeting for hours on end with a hard cock, listening to some rich fucks who want me to build some bullshit building for them.” 

You giggle at the description of his day and kiss his dimple. “I really am sorry, you know.”

“No you’re not,” he shakes his head. “Now, what are you in the mood for?”

“Can we, um, can we go eat the fattiest, unhealthiest junk food ever and then wash it down with huge cups of pure sugar, so we’re both gonna have a stomach ache for the next three days?” 

“Have I ever told you you’re perfect before?”

---

You step out of the shower, dry off, wash your face with Joel’s face wash and drink a glass of water. Joel put your bag outside the door when you were in the shower, giving you space to do your thing and going downstairs to take a shower there himself.

You’re kind of tired now, feeling a little burnt out.

You put on your panties and retrieve the comfy gym shorts you were smart enough to bring with you from your bag. They’re the only other clean piece of clothing besides the dress you could find in your drawer this morning.

“Joel?” You shout from the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I borrow a t-shirt?” 

“Sure, darlin’. Just grab one you like.” 

“Thank you.” 

You smile and make your way to Joel’s bedroom. Opening the drawer, your eyes fall on a white shirt you’ve seen him wear many times. Don’t do it. You sigh defeatedly and lift the shirt up to your face, inhaling the unmistakable scent. 

Then you suddenly remember it. Fuck. You need to make sure. 

You put on the shirt and quickly walk to the office. Taking a deep breath and making sure Joel’s not watching you snoop through his things, you open the drawer. 

The polaroid feels strange in your hand as you lift it to take a closer look. 

It’s one of Tommy, you and Joel in it, from the night Tommy introduced you two. You don’t even remember taking this one, but now that you’re looking at it, you see something. It’s the way you’re smiling.

You turn the photo and read the handwritten note that catches your eye. 

when I met her

You swallow hard and put it back. It doesn’t mean anything. You hung the other polaroid, the one of only you and Joel, up in your apartment and that doesn’t mean anything either—right?

“Babe?” Joel’s voice pulls you back.

You turn around and look at him, startled. “I, uh, was just looking for some batteries. Couldn’t find any though.” 

“I got plenty downstairs,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Come on, let’s go.”

---

You’re sitting in a booth, munching on your burger, intermittently sipping your soda. You don’t even realize you haven’t answered Joel for the third time. 

“Are you sure everything’s okay, sweetheart?” Joel touches your arm, his brow furrowed. You look at his concerned face, his cute little frown, before putting down your burger with a sigh. 

“I, uh,” you start but can’t think of the right words. “I’m just feeling a little off these days, I guess. Work’s been stressful and, um, you–you’re gonna think I’m weird,” you murmur while picking at the fries on your plate. 

“Darlin’,” Joel sighs, taking your hand into his, “you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met.” He chuckles when he sees your offended face. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He rubs the back of your hand softly and searches your eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“It’s, um,” you clear your throat. “Do you ever get this feeling that there’s something looming?”

He tilts his head and looks at you curiously. “I’m not sure I follow, darlin’?”

“Like if you’re happy, do you ever feel like it’s not real, it can’t be real, and there’s something looming? Like there’s something just waiting to fuck everything up?” 

When he doesn’t answer, you avert your gaze and try to withdraw your hand. “I’m sorry, I’m killing the vi–”

“No, sweetheart. Hey, c’mere.” He extends both of his hands to you on the table and you give him yours to hold. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he murmurs, “your question just caught me off guard a little.”

You softly rub his hand with your right thumb and study his features. He looks gorgeous with his tousled hair and his big cow eyes.

“Look, I know that happiness is hard to accept sometimes because we’re afraid of it not lasting. It may even seem easier to sabotage it preemptively, so we’re not disappointed or don’t get hurt when something bad does happen. And I also know that we sometimes don’t think we even deserve to be happy.”

Bingo. 

“But sweetheart, I need you to understand something,” he squeezes your hands gently, his sincere eyes boring into you.

“If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.” 

You try your best to blink away the tears that are forming in your eyes.

---

Thank you for reading! 🤍 part 4 || part 6 || series masterlist

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | the cure

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 3.5k

warnings: episode nine spoilers, canon level violence, probably incorrect medical stuff, joel murdering a bunch of people but in a sexy way, angst, she/her!reader

prompts: reader swaps places with Ellie (either as the one who’s immune or maybe they both are but Ellie isn’t put in that situation with the hospital), and reader is the one Joel rescues.

I’d love to request 13 and 70 from the prompt list you reblogged, with Joel Miller please! I adore your writing ❤️

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck @domaniquessidehoe @spideysimpossiblegirl

When Joel wakes in the hospital alone, he knows something is wrong. The last he remembers is you and Ellie at his side as you searched for a way into the hospital, Ellie reading her puns aloud while you rolled your eyes and tried (failed) not to laugh.  

He sits up quickly, heart pounding against his rib cage. He feels like sand is falling through his fingers, grain by grain. He’s woken up and lost something again, and this time you aren’t here to tell him it was just a dream. It’s real now, and the harder he clutches, the quicker he loses his grip. 

As he stands on wobbly feet, the door creaks open. Ellie appears, and a kernel of relief drops to his stomach. Just one, but it’s enough to ground him for a minute. 

And then he sees her red-rimmed eyes and pale face, and the kernel explodes, raining down more panic. You’re not with her. Where are you?

“Ellie?” he whispers, pulling her in by the shoulder and checking her body for any injuries. 

Her throat bobs. “They took her. They took her to surgery, Joel, but they wouldn’t take me. I think… I think something is wrong. I think—”

“You’re awake.” Marlene steps through the door with a pleasant smile, and Ellie’s voice fades quickly. “Sorry we had to knock you out. They didn’t know who you were, not until they brought you in.”

“Where is she?” Joel asks, his voice steady and low, like gravel crunching under heavy boots. 

Marlene slips her hands into her pockets, and there is something, a quick flash, in her dark eyes that Joel is too worried to miss. She’s good at blinking it away, but it’s too late. He saw.

“She’s already in surgery.” With a sigh, she pulls Joel and Ellie’s belongings from the table and hands them over. “You did a good job getting them here, Joel. So good we decided it wouldn’t be right to operate on Ellie, too. Not until we know for sure their immunity can help with the cure.”

Joel’s eyes narrow, his fingers curling into fists at his side. He grabs the bags roughly, all too aware of the way Ellie is shrinking into his side as though afraid. “So how long will it take? When can I see her?”

Pressing her lips together, Marlene’s wary glance passes between Ellie and Joel. “To test for a cure, we need to take the cordyceps from the host’s body. Do you understand what that means?”

He doesn’t, not at first. Not until he thinks of all the things he’s been told about the illness over the years. The way you spoke about it when you told him you couldn’t get sick and how the Fireflies believed a rare fungal infection you battled as an infant, years before the outbreak, left you immune to cordyceps. Because that infection altered your body’s immune system, and… 

And the way fungal infections are recognised by your brain. 

“Cordyceps…” He feels dizzy. Sick. “Cordyceps infect the brain. Removing it…”

Removing it would mean removing you. 

Killing you. 

Marlene nods, sympathy softening her features. Fuck her sympathy, Joel thinks as his blood begins to boil, bones stiffening with that protectiveness he’s always let consume him when it comes to the few people he loves. 

He lurches forward on that primal instinct alone, because there is no way in hell he can let you die. “You’ll kill her!” 

Guards filter into the room immediately, shoving Joel so the backs of his knees knock against the bed.

Ellie is trembling beside him. “Did you even fucking tell her?” she yells. “Does she know that she’s going to die on that fucking operating table, you piece of shit?”

“I’m sure she’d choose it this way,” Marlene snaps. “You’re the alternative, and we weren’t going to make a fourteen-year-old a martyr. Not if we don’t have to.”

“Martyrs choose to be martyrs!” Joel’s voice bellows like thunder through the room as he struggles against the armed guards. “You had me bring her here to fucking kill her!” The words shatter against the wall like ceramic as he realises the twisted truth of them. 

He hauled you and Ellie across the fucking country… for this. To have you laid out like an animal and experimented on. Killed. You’d never shown any hint that you thought this was how it would end. You’d talked about going back to Tommy’s after all this was over, getting a house for all three of you. Your face lit up when you told Ellie she’d have her own room, and you’d glanced at him with both a question and a promise glinting in your eyes because you both knew. There was more to this now than when you’d begun as frosty acquaintances stuck on the same path. You’d gotten close, spent freezing evenings huddled by the fire and drinking whiskey from Joel’s flask. You’d saved his life more times than he could count and vice versa. 

He’d torn down his armour for you despite his better judgement, because he couldn’t help but fall for you even if you were too damn young and pretty for him. Even if he was certain he was no good for you. 

This morning he’d woken beside you, bathed in your light and warmth, and he’d been certain something had changed. That all the pain he’d experienced in his life finally had a reason and he could let it go, start fresh. Be yours rather than lost and bitter and alone. His cheeks had ached because he’d smiled and smiled and smiled, every time you spoke, every time you looked at him. 

They can't just take that away. Not for a cure that might not even come to work. Not for anything. Damn it, he hasn’t come this far to lose you now. 

“I’m giving you the option to leave,” Marlene says. “To get out of here and take the kid with you. You get to keep her safe because Y/N took her place. So let it go, Joel. Leave now, calmly, and let us do the rest. We could have a cure in a year’s time, maybe two. Do you understand that? All of this could be over soon.”

He knows better than to believe that after all he’s seen. It was never the infection that was the problem. It was humanity — and the absence of it when civilisation deteriorated. It was the Davids of the worlds, it was Fedra, it was murder and fascism and blood and sacrifice and ruin. 

And why the hell should you have to die for a world that never gave you a damn thing? You, who still knows how to love and go gently, protect and fight for what matters? Why should he have to lose the one good thing he's known in this life?

The answer is simple: he shouldn’t. He won’t. 

A veil of eerie calm passes over him. He nods, and the guards relax. Ellie is shouting, swearing, thumping him on the chest as he’s escorted out with her in tow. He leaves Marlene behind. Lets her think he's leaving quietly.

And then knocks out the guards and steals their rifles, forced to be part of the world that doesn’t deserve to be saved.

Because there is one thing that does deserve it, still, and he’ll fight like hell to keep it.

***

He moves through the hospital like ripples through a lake, fracturing everything in his wake. He shoots without hearing the gunfire, without feeling his finger on the trigger. He told Ellie to run and hide, but she was too stubborn and too worried about you to agree, so now she follows behind him, squeezing her eyes shut each time a Firefly falls. He doesn’t want her to see this, but there isn’t time to stop it now. He knows she wants you safe as much as he does, and that has to be enough. 

It feels like hours before he finds you in the operating room, surrounded by nurses and doctors in blue scrubs.  Your eyes are closed, your body still, and for a moment he thinks he’s too late. His knees threaten to give out as he barges in, weapon poised, Ellie close behind. You’re tethered to wires and IVs, but he sees no blood, no evidence that they’d already begun. 

“I won’t let you take her!” the doctor says, wielding his scalpel. Joel shoots him, and he crumples to the floor without a whimper, without anything. 

The nurses cower. Joel can taste their fear like metal, but he can’t feel it. It seeps into him like a ghost’s touch; unable to scratch his surface, but still able to penetrate. He can’t focus on it. Not when you’re still lying there, looking so small, so unlike you, in a hospital gown. 

“Take out the IVs,” he instructs, his voice unwavering as he motions to you. 

The nurse shakes her head. 

“Now!” he bellows, and she’s smart enough to listen. She pulls the wires from your hand before stumbling back again. 

Joel pays them no more heed as he steps towards you, his breath ragged as he smooths the hair from your face. You don’t react, don’t move, but you’re unharmed. Thank god, you’re unharmed. 

“I got you, baby,” he whispers, his hands trembling as he slips one beneath your legs and the other around your back, scooping you up. “I’m here. I’m here now.”

You sink into his chest, and he knows that no matter what he’s done,  no matter the horrors he’s committed, he made the right choice. Perhaps not for the world, or for the families of the people he’s murdered, but for you, and for Ellie, and for him. For his own little universe, where love has finally blossomed after a twenty-year drought. 

That’s enough for him.

***

You wake feeling groggy, the sun dappling your face and a strange hum beneath you. It takes you a moment to realise it’s a car engine, and you frown, sitting up with a start. The back of Joel’s salt-and-pepper head is the first thing you notice, and relief floods you — intensified when you find Ellie in the passenger seat. 

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.” Joel glances at you through the rearview, his cheek pinching with a concerned smile. “How you feeling?”

A million memories try to soak into your mind at once. You remember almost nothing since approaching the hospital with Joel, and your body feels heavy. You look down to find you’re not in your own clothes, but someone else’s. 

“What happened?”

Joel’s jaw sets, and a shiver rises inside you, because you know him, and you know that something has gone horribly wrong. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel, and neither he nor Ellie will meet your gaze as he speaks. “We’ll talk about it when we’re off the road.”

“No. Talk about it now,” you demand. More images flood back. You were in a hospital gown, being prepped for surgery. Marlene… Doctors and nurses…

The cure. They decided to use you, not Ellie. 

“Did they… did they do it?”

With a sigh, Joel veers off the road, parking up beside a thick, shadowy treeline. The sun is amber in the sky, setting or rising, you don’t know. 

The silence blankets you when the engine dulls, and your heart thuds as you try desperately to meet his eye. He keeps looking down and around, anywhere but at you. You try to get Ellie instead, fingers curling into the spongy seats as you lean forward. She only fidgets with her backpack. Her hands tremble. 

“Somebody needs to tell me what the fuck is happening!” you snap, because it’s your body, your duty now, and why won’t they look at you? Why won’t they say a word? You went through hell to get to Utah, for Christ’s sake. What was it for if all you get is this confusing, awful silence?

Without a word, Joel opens the car door, instructing Ellie to give you a minute. You follow, your legs no longer feeling like legs and your mind clouded by fog. Both your doors slam shut, and you lean against the car for support as he finally turns to look at you. His expression is unreadable, and that makes you afraid. It reminds you of the day you met him, when he held a gun to you before you could reach for your own. When he was just a stranger who Marlene had sworn could get you to the Fireflies' base. 

When he speaks, though, he’s anything but cold. “I couldn’t let them do it,” he whispers, pain straining his voice. 

Your face creases in confusion. “What? After everything we risked, everything we went through—”

“It would kill you!” he shouts. And then, lower: “They were going to kill you. Take the cordyceps out of your fucking brain and leave you… gone. Did you know that? Did they tell you?”

You’re speechless, your throat thick with fear, shock, and your stomach churning with nausea. “That’s why they didn’t want Ellie.”

“They figured murdering  a fourteen-year-old was a step too far.” Bitterness soaks his words. 

You massage your temples as you try to process it, but at the forefront of everything is guilt. You feel sick, shivery, wrong. You’re the world’s only hope… and you haven’t given them what they needed. 

And then you think of Marlene, who promised you so much. You were her friend for years. She looked you in the eyes before surgery and told you you were doing the right thing. She sent you to your execution. 

The worst part is that if you’d known it would kill you, you probably still would have agreed if it meant fixing what the infection has broken. 

You glance at Joel as you understand all the things he’s not saying. “What the fuck did you do, Joel?” you breathe shakily. 

His mouth stretches into a thin line of devastation, and he doesn’t have to say it. “I couldn’t let them… I couldn’t. It wasn’t right.”

You doubt whatever went down on Joel’s end was right, either. There’s no way the Fireflies would have let you go without a fight. 

Oh, god. 

You sink against the car, panic rising in you. When Joel tries to grab your hand, you tear it away, surprising even yourself. 

“Hey,” he says, pleading. “Don’t do this. I had to keep you safe. I had to…”

“It wasn’t your choice!” 

“It sure as hell wasn’t yours either!” Joel blurted, anger roughening the edges. “They were just gonna take you away, no fuckin’ warning, no askin’, no nothin’! It’s sick!” 

“I’m just one person, Joel. They were trying to save the world!”

“You’re the only fuckin’ person who matters! You, and her!” He jabs a finger in Ellie’s direction, mouth curling with something foul. “It ain’t your responsibility to die for this world. They said it might not even work, made it sound like they were just using you as a lab rat. And what would you be saving anyway? You wanna sacrifice yourself for a world where the government scares everybody into submission and rapists and murderers and fuckin’ cannibals run the place? Huh?”

You flinch at the memory of Silver Lake and David, and how it had felt to lose Sam and Henry months before. Joel’s right; it’s hard to want to save the world when the world has done nothing but kick you down, again and again. 

But whatever Joel did, whatever pain he’s left with… you don’t want the stains on his soul to be in your name. He deserves better than that. 

When you say nothing, Joel softens, running a hand through his bristly beard as his eyes begin to glisten. “When are you going to understand, darlin’...? I’d never let anyone hurt you. Not if I could help it.” 

Your chin wobbles with the promise of tears as you look at him properly for the first time. He looks tired, drawn, haunted. 

You did that. Or, rather, he did that for you. 

“Marlene… where is she?” You’re afraid to ask, but you have to know. 

He gulps, bowing his head. “Gone. They’re all gone.”

“Shit.” You hiss the curse as the tears finally fall, rocking against the weight of what you now know to be true. 

“She was never going to stop,” he says. 

“I was… I was supposed to be the cure, Joel.” The words rattle in your broken chest like a song scratched out on old vinyl. 

He shakes his head. “Not like this. Not if it kills you.”

“I can’t…” You want to break, and you look at him and wonder how he’s still standing. What the hell did he do to get you here, get you safe? Slowly, you put your hand on his chest. “God, Joel. What… I can’t be worth all this. I can’t be responsible for all this.”

“You ain’t responsible for anything. I made this decision.” He covers your hand with his own, and you feel his chest thumping. “I did this.”

“That’s what I mean. I don’t want this for you. I don’t…” You stifle a sob. “I was just your fucking cargo. Why would you do all of this? Why would you stop them from finding a cure, stop them from changing the world, for me? You have to live with that. Not me. I know you, Joel, and I know you don’t need another thing weighing on your soul like this. I can’t be the reason you do. I can’t…”

Surprise flickers across his features. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t get it, do you?”

You blink, lost, and he squeezes your hand tighter, his forehead close enough to brush yours. 

“You still don’t know that I love you.”

Your world stutters to a stop with those words. Of course you’d known there was chemistry burning between you, palpable enough that sometimes you can barely breathe. But you never thought Joel would let himself love. 

And yet here he is. Destroying the world to save you and his girl. You’ve seen the way he’s warmed to Ellie. It shouldn’t surprise you that you matter too. But you’d never believe a man like him, a man who breathes grief and hostility and strength, could soften for you. 

“I’m not… I’m not proud,” he says. “I know the mark this’ll leave on my soul. But Jesus, darlin’, my soul was already black and damned before you met me. I’m willing to carry it. I’m willing to do whatever it takes if it means you’re still here with me. I don’t know what sort of man that makes me. Not a good one, that’s for sure. But I couldn’t just let them kill you. I couldn’t do that. Not for anything. The cure might save the world, or it might not. But I saved my world in that hospital. I had to. Please understand, baby… I had to.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. You catch it with the pad of your thumb even as your own face remains damp and awestricken. You don’t understand. You’re not sure you ever will. But you love him anyway, because you’ve never known somebody to fight for people the way he does, and he’s a good father, a good brother, even when he isn’t. Even when he’s forced to make bad choices, do bad things. He never pretends to be a hero, never asks for redemption.

But he’s asking you now — begging, even — to understand, because he loves you and because he couldn’t give up on you, and that means something. That means everything. 

You press your lips to his, and they’re rough and shaky and new. He pulls you closer, clutching onto your shirt like it’s all he has to hold onto. 

You don’t know what it means. You don’t know what happens next, or whether it’s right to go on living when you could be saving the world. 

You only know that you’re not ready to die yet, not when there is so much of him left to love, and so much to experience with Ellie. God, you dread to think what she saw in that hospital. 

“Is Ellie okay?” you ask tentatively as you pull away.

Joel glances into the car. “She needs you as much as I do.”

And you need them, more than you ever planned for. You lean into Joel’s chest and close your eyes, exhaustion weighing on your bones but fire kindled in your heart. 

“C’mon, baby. Let’s go home,” he says into your hair. 

The world is still broken, but you get to go home. 

That has to be worth something.

[elliespuns]

The scene after Ellie's immunity is revealed holds so much meaning. It's mostly the fact that we already know that Ellie has told Dina about being immune back when they were lying on the couch in the weed den, yet when Ellie is forced to talk to Dina about it a few moments after her gas mask breaks and finally comes clean—clean about how Joel, Tommy, and Maria are the only ones to know—you can see how much she wants to tell Dina, 'I told you too, remember? I told you, and you thought I was being funny.' Because now she feels like she's been lying to her lover for the whole time (even though she wasn't), she just didn't want to bring that up again because the first time she tried, Dina wouldn't believe her. And you can see just how guilty Ellie feels. It's the fidgety Ellie posture and approach, where she can't stop playing with her hands and keeps pulling at her thumb with sadness in her eyes as she tries to explain to Dina that she can't infect her.

I think that a big part of what Ellie is so scared of when it comes to her immunity being revealed is how Dina would react, knowing Ellie was 'selfish' enough to be intimate with her even though she knew she was infected. And, of course, this is not what Dina has in mind. She would never question Ellie's actions. But try to explain this to a sweet-hearted girl who thought that kissing a girl (Cat) would get her infected. A girl who stayed up all night to keep an eye on her so she wouldn't turn.

You see that this is the main reason why Ellie has never found the courage to speak to Dina about it again. Because in her mind, her being infected, no matter how she knows it works and how safe it is, means the exact opposite for the others.

It's perfectly portrayed in the scene where Ellie tells her, "I can't get you infected if that's what you're worried about."

Followed with, "I can't make you immune either." which is so honest and sweet that it makes you realize just how much Ellie wishes her immunity was good for at least THIS, if not for the cure itself.

[lillaydee]

In Time Part 12

Rancher Joel Miller / Reader

You lost your dear Uncle. Your TV Star boyfriend dumped you. You needed a job. You got one at a ranch in Wyoming. Where you met Joel. A very grumpy man. Grumpy man has issues.

WARNINGS:

Grumpy Joel, Hurt Joel, Grieving Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Mentions of Hostage Situation and Shooting, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 11

---

Joel was at a loss; he was shocked by what was happening. One second, he was comforting his inconsolable ex, the next, her tongue was invading his throat, and she was aggressively grinding on his lap in the middle of the chow hall. He was torn between biting her tongue off, or just throwing her on the floor, risking deliberately harming a woman for the first time in his life.

But his thoughts were all moot.

Because the next thing he knew, she was pulled off him and thrown onto the floor by a very angry pair of hands.  

Cleo slid on the floor for a good few yards, shock written all over her face, magically no longer devastated at all, looking around for the powerful source that literally yanked her by the hair and waistband off of Joel before she found herself sliding on her ass. For a moment, she thought she should be looking for a big burly man. But no one fitting that description was anywhere near her, save for Joel who was still in shock on the chair she had pushed him into.

The only person standing near her was you.

The soft spoken, lady-like, would-never-harm-a-fly you.

You, who didn’t do anything when you found her naked at your boyfriend’s house.

She opened her mouth to shout at you, but the look in your eyes actually threw ice-cold daggers all over her insides.

You stood over her, advancing on her as you spoke, forcing her to shuffle backwards to get away from you. All the frustrations you had ever felt for this woman came pouring out of you like a faucet.

“I’ve had it with you trying to get your slutty paws all over my men. You already stole one man from me, and you want to steal another? You think you had it bad right now? You think you’re ashamed right now? You think you’re at your lowest now? You forget yourself, Cleo. I lived in Hollywood for over twenty years. I had top notch producers and directors and A-listers as neighbours and babysitters. I walked their dogs, I babysat their children, I made a living chopping their dogs’ balls off and curing their pets of cancer. One phone call to the right person, and you will know what being cancelled really means, Cleo. Get your ass off our floor and get the fuck out of here. If I so much as catch you breathing anywhere near my man, let alone put your filthy hands on him ever again, I will draw and quarter you myself. You understand me?”

She scrambled to her feet, opened the front door and ran off, not looking back.

It was like you floated out of your body and got snapped back into it.

You were standing in front of the main door.

How the fuck did you get there?

You turned around and walked back into the chow hall, your stomach rumbling.

You were met with many pairs of eyes staring at you.

“Well,” Mrs Adler said, “looks like we don’t need a guard dog after all.”

“Damn, Doc,” Tommy said. “The hell did you find the energy to pull her off like that?”

“She pulls calves and foals off of cows and horses. One malnourished D-lister? No problem!” Frank chimed in, eating his lunch as if nothing just happened.

You picked up a plate and began piling food in. Suddenly famished. Joel joined you, an amazed look on his face.

“Well, that was… something. You okay darling?”

“Yeah. Course. I’m just hungry,” you said, suddenly horrified that this man just saw you hulk out.

You sat down, and began eating, doing your best to avoid eye contact with him. He placed a glass of water next to your plate and sat next to you.

“So, your man, huh?”

Oh God, he heard that.

You couldn’t look him in the eye. The She-Hulk had been unleashed, and she was more than content to go dormant again for a long, long time.

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. You got up to your feet and put your hand out in front of him.

“Nope. You are not getting those lips anywhere near me until you have brushed your teeth at least ten times and gargled an entire bottle of mouthwash. Perhaps sanitize your mouth with alcohol too. I am not kissing you right after that.”

You shuddered at the thought.

He laughed and put his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, She-Hulk,” he said, winking at you, retreating to his house to do just that.

You sat back down and continued eating. Tess and Maria joined you. Tess eyed you, impressed at what she just saw.

“You know, when I first met you, I thought, shit. She’s not going to last for long on a ranch. Too soft, too polite. Damn, I am proud to say I stand corrected.”

“Joel better watch it. Fierce, and chops balls for a living. Love it, sister,” Maria said with a grin.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. You honestly couldn’t believe you just did that.

Would it be wrong to be proud of yourself a little bit?

---

Not a week later, Maria called you to the office, a lawyer representing David and Cleo with her. The entire family was there. The lawyer brought in an NDA, trying to ensure that you and the family wouldn’t be exposing his clients’ unfortunate past mistakes, ailments, misbehaviours and misfortunes to anyone. In exchange, they will keep all your identities secret and never bother you again, and Cleo would not be pressing charges on you for ‘attacking’ her, twice. He had even located ‘the source’ of the leak, and they had agreed to sign a document stating that they will not make any more statements regarding Sarah or her family, for a little incentive, of course, paid for by Mr Landon himself.

Maria, ever the lawyer, made sure the documents were iron clad, the family’s privacy must be protected at all costs. She advised you that if you declined to sign, the whole family will back you up, and she will personally make sure any lawsuits Cleo threw at you will be thrown out, but the document was legit now, and she and David will have no choice but to leave you and the entire family alone. Only once everything was to her satisfaction did everyone, yourself included, sign the document.

---

Of course, the world was not always fair. Cleo and David got back together, putting on a strong front, although you suspected they were only doing it for show. They never announced their supposed split, so pictures of them holding hands were everywhere, looking all loved up and happy. Cleo appeared on some talk show, talking about PPD, and her ‘experiences’ being affected by it, a supposed ‘expert’ supporting her claims. And then, of course, she put on the waterworks about how much she had been punished, her child taken way too early, and how she had found God, and hoped to see her in the Pearly Gates. Her fans ate it all up, loving her bravery for coming forward amidst all the criticism thrown at her.

No one showed those clips to Joel, naturally.

David suddenly was an inspiration to younger men with ED everywhere, talking about his problems on national TV before endorsing little blue pills for men like him. The couple appeared together promoting their show, claiming that they had married in an intimate ceremony, just close family and friends, which you suspect was a lie too. Their strategy seemed to work. People seemed to love them still.

Although, their show was cancelled pretty much immediately. Funny, that.

You didn’t hear of see much of them after. Last you heard from your friends in LA, Cleo was seen walking dogs and working at the pet saloon now. David had taken up teaching acting to aspiring actors. They were definitely no longer together though, never seen together again after that interview. Apparently, the offers dried up. Shame. Such a fickle industry.

---

The day after the lawyer came in, Tommy drove you and Joel to town to pick up your new secondhand car. You were very excited. Tommy dropped you two at the dealership, before leaving to run his errands. Joel stood in front of your new car, an incredulous look on his face.

“This is what you bought?”

You nodded excitedly, and unlocked your new car, only a few years old, practically brand new. You got in and watched as Joel struggled to get his huge frame into the passenger seat of the Mini Cooper you just bought. His grumpy face was back on as you drove the little car back to the ranch, his head bumping on the roof several times as the car bounced off the gravelly road to his house.

When you’d arrived, you gave him an excited look, and asked him what he thought of your new car. He responded by pulling you onto his lap, which ended with you bumping your head on the roof. Okay, maybe this was a bad idea, frowning a little, upset that making out in this car was near impossible with your hunk of a boyfriend. He kissed you on your nose with a small laugh, telling you he loved your car, but maybe let’s go inside?

After a bit of a struggle (for him) getting out, he dragged you into his house, and carried you straight upstairs. He began to pull your clothes off before you even got up the stairs, his lips on your body, never leaving it for a second as your bodies get all tangled up together in his bed, filthy moans and whimpers filling the room, before the two of you lay sated in each other’s arms.

“You really don’t like my car?” you asked him.

“I love it, but maybe we’ll take my truck if we go out okay? I think I’m in great danger of a concussion if I ride in that car too often.”

You smacked him on his bare chest playfully.

“It’s not for long. It’s already June. My contract runs out in November.”

He stilled.

“Do you really want to leave?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. How do you tell him that you wanted to stay more than anything, but it was up to him? This was his territory. His life. His family. He hadn’t dated anyone since Cleo, and that, to you, meant that you had no right to set the rules of this relationship. You couldn’t just decide to stay, even if you could afford to without the job. You two had been seeing each other for what? A month? Bit too soon to be making life altering decisions, no? Sure, you were crazy in love with him, but technically, you were still in the getting to know each other stage.

“It’s not up to me, Joel.”

“Where would you go if you leave?”

“I dunno. Back to England? Travel? I really don’t know.”

“Then stay, please.”

“Joel…”

“No, I’m serious. Stay.”

“When Peter comes back, what would be the point of staying? I can’t stay and take up his business, his livelihood. But I can’t stay just being your… whatever this is. We haven’t even decided what we are, it’s been a month!”

“I want to be with you. If you decide to leave, I will leave with you. Whatever you want. But please, think about it. Stay, stay here, with me. Please…”

Your lips involuntarily curled into a smile, happy to know he wanted you to stay.

“I’ll think about it.”

He kissed you; muttering thank you over and over.

“But we will still take my truck when we go out.”

“Okay.”

He stopped kissing you.

“Okay? Okay you’ll stay or okay we’ll take the truck if we go out?”

You didn’t answer, just pulled him back down for another kiss, one that didn’t stop for hours.

---

He picked you up at home, dressed in his best flannel and jeans. You asked him, yet again, if he was sure he wanted to do this? He was, he said. He needed to.

The drive over was silent. He had insisted that you sit right next to him rather than across the bench seat, he needed to feel you pressed up to him. You kept your head on his shoulder as he drove, your hand on his leg, occasionally stroking his arms as he let go of the steering wheel to take your hand in his. He was nervous, you could tell. And you couldn’t blame him, you would be too.

He parked in the lot designated for family for the day. The family was already there, he hadn’t decided to go until the last minute. You had called Tess when he decided to take the leap, and they had waited for the two of you in the parking lot.

All of you walked hand in hand towards the store. A tent had been erected right out front, the pictures of those who lost their lives three years ago stood at the front, their families sat in the front row.

It was a beautiful service. Representatives of the families spoke about the people they’d lost, spoke of grief, of hope, of courage. Anita spoke on behalf of the family for Sarah, and Ellie spoke for Annie, Joel’s hand on yours the entire time.

After, he and Ellie went up front, placing flowers underneath the pictures of their lost loves, holding hands, followed by a long hug. It warmed your heart to see them like that; they had come a long way, even in your short time there. You couldn’t imagine them any other way. Their evenings spent riding together, Ellie joking around with Joel, endlessly teasing him for being old. He acted annoyed, but it was clear to anyone who saw them together how much he loved her.

The entire family visited the cemetery next, Ellie officially introducing you to her mom, telling her what a kick-ass vet you were. She had been disappointed to miss the throwdown with Cleo, claiming she would have paid good money to have seen that.

When you got back in the truck after, you asked him if he was okay.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I thought I was going to cry, completely lose my mind, but I guess, talking to her every night made it feel as if she was still around, you know? It felt like she’s gone, but still with me.”

You could only nod. You could relate to that. Talking to your parents and Benny had kept you sane, so to speak. It felt good to know that it had done the same for him.

Everyone stopped at the Bison for dinner that evening, you a bit apprehensive to see Angela again. But she was nowhere to be seen. Andy told you that she had quit a couple of months ago, no idea where she disappeared to. Tess might have suggested that maybe she was making full use of a windfall she may have gotten. People in the village knew it was her to leaked the entire David-Cleo thing. Rumour was, she got away with more than a million dollars to her name.

“Well, at least I can come work here when Peter comes back. I’d go crazy sitting at home waiting for this one to come home from being fawned on by tourists and the mysterious surge of ladies who had signed up for horse riding lessons if I don’t have a job,” you said, laying your head on Joel’s shoulder.

“You’re staying? Even if Pete comes back?” Ellie squealed.

You shrugged. “Where else am I gonna go?”

Joel turned to look at you, asking you if you were sure. When you nodded, he pulled you in for a kiss, which earned an “Eww… get a room old man… I don’t know how you could let him kiss you like that Doc…” from Ellie.

Joel got up and pulled you with him, tossing some cash on the table before taking you outside and into his truck. You pressed yourself up to him, ready for the drive home, but he turned and pushed you onto your back, devouring your mouth as if he would starve without kissing you, his hands roaming all over your body, his mouth travelling to your ears, your neck, your chest, before ripping your panties off and unbuckling his belt. He searched in the console for a bit, tore open the packet he found, and the next thing you knew, the top of your dress was pushed down, you were screaming his name, your legs locked around his waist, his mouth on your nipples as he rocked himself into you over and over until the both of you stilled, mouths opened in silent screams before shuddering uncontrollably, breaths quivering, hands holding each other tight, not wanting to separate, ever.

“You’re really staying?”

“Mm hmm… I’m really staying.”

The grin he gave made him look sixteen again. He kissed you long and sweet, happy that he would get to do this for the rest of his life.

A knock on the passenger door jolted the both of you out of your rendezvous, Tommy stood with his back to the truck, warning the two of you to leave before everyone else comes out. Tess will have your heads if Ellie saw you two like that.

Joel thanked him, the two of you got dressed quickly and drove home. Joel reminded you that THAT was a good reason to use his truck whenever you two go out. You smacked him on his chest before cuddling up to him, sighing contentedly.

Joel made love to you again and again that night, his heart too full of you, wanting to show you over and over how appreciative he was that you’d decided to stay. As you were starting to doze off in his arms, he told you he loved you.

Sleep became the last thing on your mind after that.

---

You were sitting in Maria’s hospital room, her brand-new baby boy in your arms, Ellie cooing at him, her head on your shoulder. Oh, you were so in love with him already. Thank God you decided to stay. When you thought about it, saying goodbye to Joel wasn’t the only thing making leaving difficult. You couldn’t imagine not seeing these people every day anymore. And now, this dashing young thing arrived, and completely stole your heart.

“You are so cute, yes you are, yes you are, you are so cute I’m gonna kidnap you every day and put you in my little pocket!” you cooed at him, while Ellie giggled in your ear.

Joel sat at the other end of the room with his brother, watching you coo over his nephew. Oh shit. You’re a natural. Something about you holding a baby stirred something in him. You pregnant with his child. Him, talking to your belly at night.  Now, that’s an image he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how many times he shook it clear. God, Joel. It’s only been a couple of months. Chill. Take it slow.

He came over and took his nephew from you, much to your chagrin. He started speaking to him in his low, low voice, telling him he would spoil the living shit out of him, that he would want for nothing. Come to Uncle Joel if your daddy gives you grief, huh?

You sat in your chair, watching him coo over his nephew. Oh shit. He’s a natural. Something about him holding a baby stirred something in you. You, pregnant with his child. Him, talking to your belly at night. Now, that’s an image you couldn’t get out of your head, no matter how many times you shook it clear. God, Amelia. It’s only been a couple of months. Chill. Take it slow.

---

When August came, Peter called. He had reconnected with his childhood sweetheart while back home. He was giving his three months’ notice. Looked like you were really staying now, and Joel’s hidden worry that you would be working with Andy every day dissolved.

You were happy to keep working, your only problem being the many, many swarms of buzzing ladies who kept fawning over Joel during those touristy things. Shameless women crooning at him, telling him to teach them how to ride properly, calling him the BDE rancher, asking you to give them his number, wondering out loud how you could stand to work with someone that hot every day.

Joel shut them up, though, going out of his way to get close to you any chance he got, kissing you sweetly, telling them in not so many words that he was happily taken. And apparently, there was a new rule now, there was strictly no separating from your group if you were on one of those tours. Word was, an email the resident vet had received from a certain Italian vet asking for advice on force birthing a cow had the owner in a tizzy, convinced that ‘ciao’ had a hidden meaning somewhere.

No matter, when all was said and done, when the tourists had gone home, the two of you came home to each other, and the next morning, kissed each other goodbye, matching thermoses in your hands, filled with drinks made by each other, for the other.

---

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

You took his hand, and he led you at a leisurely pace towards the Benny place. It’s still your favourite place to go on the ranch. As you got nearer, he stopped you, and covered your eyes with his hand. He carefully guided you to where he wanted you to stand for the big reveal.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

He took his hand off, and you blinked several times, before seeing a brand-new giant hammock tied between the two oak trees.

You squealed, hugged him so tight, whispered thank you over and over, kissing him all over his face, getting lipstick everywhere.

You ran to the hammock, calling for him to join you. You made him stand on the other side and told him how important it was to get this right. You cannot afford to topple over today. He nodded, putting on his focused face.

You asked him to follow your movements, exactly. With some difficulty on your part, the two of you managed to climb on, before the hammock tilted dangerously towards his side, him being a lot heavier than you. He quickly adjusted, going towards the middle, and caught you before you could fly off it. You fell half on his body, laughing hysterically, remembering all the times you fell off it at Benny’s. He wrapped his arm around your body, his other hand behind his head. You wrapped your leg over his, your head on his chest.

“Do you remember the first time I brought you here?”

Hmm… you replied. Remembering the first Christmas you spent with him.

“That was the night you healed me.”

You looked up at him, confusion on your face.

“I talked to Sarah for the first time that night. And everything just… fell off my shoulders. Woke up feeling lighter, happier, like I could move on. Like I would be okay. And it was all because of what you said to me, that night, here.”

You couldn’t speak, remembering what he was like back then. Hidden in his shell.

“I was so angry at everything, everyone. And now, look at me.”

He kissed you on your temple, long and deliberate.

“It just takes time to heal, that’s all. I’m glad I’m here to enjoy this wonderful man you have become.”

He turned towards you, placing his fingers under your chin, making sure your eyes were on his.

“It wasn’t time that did it, darling.”

And he kissed you, like it was the first time, like it was the last time. This man you fell in love with, the love of your life.

“Oh, my God, I knew it! I found them, guys! Really? Again?”

The family came rushing towards the Benny place, Ellie leading, having found you after the two of you disappeared, yet again. Tommy arrived in Joel’s ratty old truck, freshly washed for the occasion.

Joel groaned at the interruption but conceded that you should probably get going. He gently helped you off the hammock. The two of you quickly said your goodbyes, hugging and kissing everyone, Joel escorting you to the passenger door and made to open it for you. You held up a hand at him and did the jiggle-push-pull combo with ease, and the door opened with a creak. Joel laughed out loud, and lifted you up, placing you in the cab, making sure your skirt and train were all in before closing the door for you.

He got in, kissed you, hard and true, and began driving.

The red, rusty, ratty, old beater of a truck with ‘Just Married’ sprayed across the bumper and cowbells tied across the back rattled onwards, flower petals and rice, along with joyous laughter and cheers from loved ones following in its wake.

---

Epilogue

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Counting Stars

Summary: Mel didn't know she would ever get out of the hospital that had become her prison. Year after year she lost everything. But then when she finally got the chance to escape she took it. And all thanks to the man who took down everything in his path to get to his daughter. Joel Miller.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Melanie Summer

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rating: T

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Angst, Guns, Violence, Lies, Pregnancy, talk about forced pregnancies, talk about childbirth, mention of child death, mentions of human experiments, character death, slowish burn, changing POV's

A/N: Did I plan to write this? No. Do I know how often I'm gonna update this? Also no.

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for updates

Counting Stars Masterlist

He wasn’t thinking clearly. 

No. 

That was a lie.

It was probably the first time in a long time that he was thinking clearly. His only thought was to get Ellie and get her out of this god forsaken hospital and to safety. 

No matter the costs. 

He should have known they were gonna pull something like that. In what fucking world was he living that people were willing to sacrifice innocent kids?

Deep down he feared that even if Ellie had been given a choice, she would have chosen to go through with it. But he couldn’t think about it now. 

He could not lose her. He could not lose another child. 

He didn’t know how many Fireflies he shot on his way to pediatrics. He didn’t care about how many Fireflies he shot to get to her.  

Deadly calm he took out everyone in his way until he found himself in front of the operation room. Surely they knew he was coming, the gunshots echoing through the whole building. That was good. He wanted them to know what was coming for whoever intended to kill an innocent girl for a chance of a cure. 

As if that shit would really work. 

Even if it would work, it would just be another way for the Fireflies to seek control over everything and everyone.

A noise behind him had him whip his head around, his gun pointing at the intruder, his finger hovering over the trigger. 

It was a woman.

Dressed only in a dirty hospital gown. His eyes scanned her all over, finding both of her wrists bloodied and bruised. She looked sick, no exhausted. 

“Please….” she whispered, one of her hands holding on to the doorway to keep herself upright, her other hand laying protectively on her belly. He inhaled sharply. She was pregnant. 

He didn’t have time for that. He should take care of her. Shoot her right then and there. But something held him back. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath he turned away from her and opened the door to take care of getting Ellie out of there. 

Mel thought she was dreaming at first when she came back to consciousness. 

Her eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to properly open her eyes at first. 

Gunshots.

There were gunshots outside. 

That must have been what woke her from her deep, medically induced, sleep.

Trying to move her arm she was surprised she could, having been cuffed to the bed for… she couldn’t really remember when her wrists hadn’t been in handcuffs the last time. Even when she was allowed to get out of bed, there was always someone with her. She wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom by herself. All because of her “important purpose”.

They said it was to keep her safe. 

But she knew that was a lie. 

They were only interested in what was growing inside of her. Her hand shakily found her swollen belly. She thinks she was in the seventh month? She didn’t know how long she had been out. Finally blinking her eyes open, she found that her wrists still were swollen, so it couldn’t be too long. 

But… why wasn’t she handcuffed?

And… why was no one with her?

The gunshots came closer and she groaned as she sat herself up, slipping her legs out of bed, getting up shakily. 

Tears escaped her eyes, when she felt the baby, a girl as she had learned from fucking Marlene, move inside of her. She didn’t know why they kept telling her what sex the baby had when they would take them away from her anyway. 

Some fucking torture, as if keeping her pregnant against her will for… she didn’t know exactly how many years now, wasn’t torture enough. 

She was tired. 

She did not want to be here. But she was all because she trusted the wrong person with her secret. Someone who sold her over some fucking supplies so the Fireflies could keep her as living incubator. 

Because Mel was immune to cordyceps and someone who wasn’t even a real Doctor was telling anyone he could find a cure if he just had enough source material. 

Source Material. 

She wasn’t even a human being to them, just some… thing to get to what they wanted. Or more like dreamed.

Gathering all her strength she waddled over to the door, a sigh of relief escaping her when she found it unlocked. 

A dead Firefly was laying on the floor as she looked inside the corridor.

Her hand held onto the doorway, startled when a man across the floor turned around to her, his gun pointed at her. 

Adrenaline shot through her veins. 

Who was he?

What was he doing here?

“Please,” she whispered, her hand on her belly. She didn’t know what she was pleading for. Her death or his help. 

He just kept looking at her with dark eyes, inhaling sharply. 

After a moment he turned away from her and walked into the operating room, leaving her alone again. 

She leaned her head against the doorway, closing her eyes. 

Her baby kicked again. 

She knew that this most likely would be her only chance. Turning back around she went back into her room in search of some clothing. She had been allowed to go outside a month or so ago, so there should be some shoes and some clothes. 

She heard some gunshots, startling her again, as she got dressed. 

She threw everything she thought she could need, some bottles of water, some food, some medicine, on the bed cloth before she grabbed it to make a makeshift sack out of it. Throwing it over her shoulder she could only hope the man had taken care of all the Fireflies as she slowly made her way out of her prison and down the hall, where she knew the stairs were. 

Joel was carrying his Ellie in his arms down the corridor to the elevator, hoping it would world and bring him down into the parking garage, gun still in his hand hidden from view. He hoped he would find a car he could use to get them the fuck out of here. 

He was about to round the corner to the elevator when he found the woman inside, her hand holding it open for him.

It was her, the pregnant woman from before. 

She was looking up at him with her green eyes, before her eyes flew to the girl in his arms. His jaw twitched. He should have shot her, but something held him back. He continued to look at her, swallowing harshly when he noticed a familiar scar on her temple.

“Will she be okay?” she asked. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, before he gave her a nod. 

“Good. Take her as far away from them as you can,” she nodded at him, stepping back and Joel didn’t know why, but he got into the elevator with her, pressing the button to the underground garage. 

The door opened and the woman was about to step outside, when he told her to wait. 

“Look if there’s someone out there first,” he said. She nodded, taking a careful look around. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone out,” she whispered. 

“Okay,” he nodded, following her out, looking around carefully. The adrenaline was wearing off and his knees were killing him. 

There were some cars here, some looking newer than others. 

The woman was already making her way to one of the cars, batteries charging in front of them.

He knew he should just take Ellie and leave. It was the easier choice really. This woman he just met was nothing to him. Just a random woman he spared while taking down all the Fireflies that only breathed in his dau… Ellie’s direction. 

A woman with at least one scar on the same spot as he had one.

“You can’t keep her safe forever,” he turned around, finding Marlene walking towards him, her gun pointed at him. 

“No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she's gonna grow up, Joel. And then you'll die. She'll leave. Then what? How long till she's torn apart by Infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved,” Marlene said. 

Maybe she would have gotten through to him months ago, before the girl in his arms became his whole world. 

But that Joel didn’t exist anymore. He looked at Ellie in his arms.

“Maybe. But it isn't for you to decide,” he said. He saw Marlene’s eyes focus on something behind him, most likely the pregnant woman, yet he didn’t dare to turn around. And a weird case of panic took over his body. He had to protect her. Them. Ellie and the woman.

“Or you. So what would she decide, huh? 'Cause I think she'd wanna do what's right. And you know it. It's not too late. Even now... even after what you've done. We can still find a way,” Marlene lowered the gun, seemingly feeling safe that she was getting through to him. 

She should have known better.

Mel had lowered her makeshift sack on the ground when she heard Marlene’s voice. 

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, still covered behind the car, hoping the woman hadn’t seen her. Taking a deep breath she looked around for something she could use as a weapon, almost crying out in relief when she found several guns on the backseat of the car.

After checking if they were loaded she decided that it was time to end this for all time. She did not want to be on the run for the rest of her life, hoping that the man had taken care of as many of these so-called saviours as possible. 

She listened to Marlene trying to convince the man to make the right choice. To let the girl go. That they could still find a way. 

Mel was used to their talks. Before Marlene there was Wyatt who told her the same lies over and over. As if she had a choice in their scheme.

“Why do you get to decide what is right?” she stepped next to the man, her gun pointed at Marlene who somewhat looked surprised at her, her gun pointing back up.

“Do you think it’s right what you did to me? What you wanted to do to his child? Does it make you feel better if you keep telling yourself all those lies?!”

“I am not lying. You both are the key to ending all of this,” Marlene insisted. 

Mel shot Marlene’s leg, making the man next to her flinch. 

“Fucking liar!” she screamed, getting closer to her, only stopped when the man came to stop in front of her. She looked at him, her gun still pointed at Marlene who was groaning in pain. 

“We all have to make sacrifices to end this,” Marlene wheezed. 

“Sacrifices?” Mel scoffed, stepping around the man so she could look Marlene into her eyes. “What kind of sacrifices did you have to make? Huh?”

Marlene glared at Mel.

“Is that what you call making me go through five pregnancies and taking my babies away from me as soon as they were out to experiment on them? To kill them?”

Something broke in Joel when he heard those words coming from he woman next to him 

“But you won’t have this baby. And you won’t have her either,” she said, before shooting Marlene again, this time in the stomach. She turned around, catching Joel’s eyes as she made her way back to the car. 

Joel decided to follow her, not seeing Marlene as a big threat at the moment. 

“You're gonna regret this. You gonna fucking regret this,” Marlene hissed after them but they weren’t listening. The woman helped him lie Ellie carefully on the backseat. 

“Get into the passenger's seat,” he murmured at her and she looked at him. 

“You sure?” she asked. Against all odds he found himself nodding, checking Ellie for one last time before he went back to Marlene.

“No, wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Marlene pleaded, “Please. Let me go.”

“You'd just come after her,” he said, not knowing if he meant Ellie or the woman, or both, before he shot her. 

It was after passing the sign that he made it out of Salt Lake City that he felt like he could breathe again. 

“Peanut?” she asked and he turned his head as the woman held up a can of salted peanuts. 

“Sure,” he mumbled and she gave him a small smile, letting some peanuts fall in his outreached hand. 

“I’m Mel by the way,” she introduced herself. He didn’t even realise that he hadn't known her name until this very moment. 

“Joel. I’m Joel,” he said and she smiled at him. 

“Thank you for saving our life, Joel,” she whispered, her hand on her belly and he noticed another scar on the back of her hand that mirrored his own.  

He gulped, his eyes back on the road again. 

“You’re welcome.”

[tokoumaru]

୨୧ haikyuu boys' music taste

feat. kuroo, tsukishima, akaashi tags. headcanons/fluff/established relationship tw. none!

synopsis. haikyuu men and their music tastes! (and how they show it to you)

kuroo tetsurou

you knew that kuroo had always lived with his father and his grandparents, but what you didn't know was how growing up with them affected his music taste greatly.

kuroo loved his grandparents to death and would always love talking about the environment he was raised in to you whenever he had the chance.

during a cuddle session, you had found out that in his youth, his grandfather would always bust out their old record player and play the most saccharine and not to mention- oldest love songs known to humankind.

afterwards, his grandfather would never fail to pull his grandmother up from the couch and bring her into the most sickeningly sweet slow-dance- all for young kuroo to see.

at first, young kuroo would always pretend to disgustingly gag at the sight, but as he grew older there would be a sort of longing in his heart that would hope he could do the same with his special someone in the future as well.

well, maybe he could, now that you're in his arms

"tetsuro! put me down please!" you giggled out as you tried to rip away your boyfriend's tight grip on your waist.

a few moments earlier, kuroo held you tight in his arms on your bed, his warmth permeating through your shirt. It was just your usual cuddle session, him whispering how his day went into your ear and you listening as you play with the stray strands of hair that hit his face.

though, right before he manhandled you, you saw the mischievous glint in his cat-like eyes and knew that something was bound to happen.

"just a moment, kitten"

smirking, he gently placed you over his should while securely holding you with his left arm. "wipe that stupid smirk off you're face, I'm going to kill you!" with your head hanging upside down you clawed at his back, careful not to actually hurt him.

kuroo let out a raspy laugh, giving your bum a light pat as he continued to move towards the little record player in the corner of his room.

"hm... no- not this one... too sweet... no- not this one either." grumbing, he fiddled with the stack of records, trying to search for the perfect song.

"heh... you're going to love this one, kitten."

after giving your bum another victorious pat at the discovery, he fished the pristine record from it's slightly old sleeve and placed it on the record player.

"this better be worth the interruption of our cuddle session and most especially the manhandling, kuroo." you grumbled as he gently put you down on the center of his bedroom.

gradually, the record player starts to play, and slowly do you start to recognize the familiar beats the followed through.

clock strikes upon the hour and the sun begins to fade

"tetsuro! out of all the possible songs-"

"may i have this dance, mademoiselle?" kuroo curtsied you with his head bowed, and although you couldn't directly see his countenance, you just knew he had that stupid smirk of his on his face.

still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away

"people don't slow-dance to whitney houston kuroo."

"who said we were going to slow-dance?" kuroo laughed as he pulled your hands and lead you into a little twirl.

i've done alright up to now it's the light of day that shows me how

unable to keep your façade of anger any longer, you couldn't help but let out a snort at your boyfriend, whose hips were shaking to the discotheque beat, pulling out the oldest dance moves from the book.

and when the night falls, loneliness calls

with crinkled eyes and a smile on your face, you soon decided to follow after him, the two of you dancing as if it was only both of you in this world.

some songs kuroo would love: I wanna dance by whitney houston, golden slumbers by the beatles, shes always a woman/vienna by billy joel, back to the old house by the smiths, just like heaven by the cure, foolish heart by steve perry, crazy for you by madonna, til they take my heart away by clair marlo

tsukishima kei

you knew tsukki brought his earphones everywhere he went with him, and if there was ever a time he'd forget them at home he would get really grumpy.

you'd always ask him what he was listening to, and at the start of your relationship he would be a bit hesitant to tell you- saying his usual caustic remarks

"tsukki, what are you listening to now?"'

"even if I told you, it's not like you would recognize who they were."

god, you wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face so bad.

but, as your relationship grew, tsukishima had started to open up more, and now every walk to school and walk home, he would silently offer you his left earbud and you would listen to his music together.

you'd recognize a few artists here and there, but you were clueless to the majority of it. though, you did think alternative/indie rock did suit tsukishima a lot.

sooner or later did you realize that maybe your boyfriend was right, because you really didn't recognize any of the artists you'd hear... so maybe he did have the right to be a bit pretentious about how superior his music taste was.

"ooh... I like this song tsukki! what's it called?" you gripped your boyfriends slender hands a bit tighter, trying to catch his attention.

both of you were walking home from karasuno, with tsukki just having finished his training for today. it was quite late, and the sun was in the midst of setting, it's pink hues covering the sky.

it’s only myself now, its just me

the sweat from the walk made strands of hair stick to your forehead, and you were a bit out of breath. you probably guessed your hair was a mess too, knowing that you forgot to bring your comb with you today.

so, as you turned to look at him, you're heart never would've expected to see the look of utmost love in tsukishima's eyes as he stared at your oblivious ones.

if you’d only considered it, this would end

you knew your boyfriend was never one for words, and that he expressed his affection towards you in subtle actions as well... but it was the first time you had seen him look at you so fondly. it shook your heart to the core seeing such a vulnerable look on your boyfriend's normally stoic face.

pulled out of your trance, tsukishima slightly leaned down and gently cupped your ruddy cheeks with his free hand, his eyes soft and eyebrows relaxed.

I wonder why it’s only you, it’s only you that comes to mind

"tsukki I-" you stuttered as you tried to form a coherent sentence, obviously struggling.

tsukishima, with emotional eyes contrasting his rigid face, held your cheeks for a second longer before he slowly tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

he didn't think you were as beautiful as you were in that moment, the last rays of the setting sun caressing your tired face in the gentlest of ways with the beat of his favorite song matching the way your hair swayed in the wind.

"it's... short hair by base ball bear... I can't believe you didn't know of such a well-known song."

that day, I realized my feelings after I touched your short hair

with his golden eyes narrowed, he quickly snatched his left earphone from your ear, leaving a lingering touch behind, before breezing past you with a faster pace than usual.

stunned, you stood there trying to process the situation, needing a moment to calm your thumping heart. though, if you had only turned your head, you would catch sight of how red the tips of tsukishima's ears were.

some songs tsukki would love: funny bunny by the pillows, transfer girl by base ball bear, aphrodite by the ridleys, she's got you high by mumm-ra, have I been a fool by jack penate, and maybe maybe by lola amour

akaashi keiji

as akaashi's girlfriend, you're immediately treated with the utmost respect and so much more.

because in truth, akaashi keiji is quite the romantic at heart.

during both of your's study sessions, he would always use his phone to play a few accoustic love songs.

he said it helped him focus better, and helped him distract himself from his phone (and the endless messages bokuto-san would send him)

the strums of the guitar would always help him calm down from his hectic school days, after all, his ears needed a break from all of bokuto's excited yelling.

and in moments just between you two, he always loved how the soft strum of the guitar accompanied the sound of your voice as you animatedly talked to him about his day.

rather than helping him focus, akaashi knew that when his favourite songs started to play, he only found himself looking at you.

when I told you that I love you well I never would’ve guessed

the quiet hum of your air conditioner was accompanied by the low bass of the song that quietly rang through akaashi's speakers.

both of you were on the small table in the middle of your room, notebooks filled with pencil marks and textbooks covered in pastel highlighters splayed throughout the surface. it was just another one of yours and akaashi's after-school study sessions.

as it was nearing your midterms, you both knew you had to study even more than usual, which explains the comfortable silence between you two caused by your (uncommon) will to concentrate on your calculus homework.

that you'd end up loving me, too, and well you know the rest

too focused on the numbers on the sheet, you didn't quite notice that akaashi had stopped reading his literature homework, and instead, started to admire you.

in that morning birds were chirping and the grass was wet with dew

with his hand resting on the table and holding his chin, he tilted his head and adjusted his glasses just a bit.

the rays of the afternoon sun passed through your blinds and hit your face perfectly, highlighting every feature he loved about you.

in such peaceful moments like these, akaashi couldn't help but take breather and observe the nuances of the face of someone he loved so dearly. to him, it was the way you pouted ever so slightly when encountering a challenging problem, or the way your handwriting got a tad bit sloppier as you hastily wrote down an answer to a question you recognized...

"akaashi keiji, you've been staring at me for 5 minutes now! don't think I didn't notice." without lifting your head up from your notebook, you lightly scolded your boyfriend.

"sorry darling, I guess I just spaced out." recognizing the slight curve of your lip in jest, he smiled softly and grabbed his abandoned pencil once more, returning back to his studies.

there and then I saw the world from a different point of view

though, not before sneakily glancing at your figure one last time, a fond look on his face.

some songs akaashi would love: germany & rome by the ridleys, my little corner of the world by yo la tengo, my favourite book by stars, kataomoi by aimer, please speak well of me by the weepies, golden by harry styles, fall by ben&ben, and layla (accoustic) by eric clapton

a/n. my first headcanon and post ever! though I think i've made my boys a bit too ooc HELP...... also! small disclaimer regarding the lyrics of short hair... welp the english translated lyrics were wiped off the face of the internet so I had to resort to google translate. I really tried to make it as cohesive as possible since I didn't want to change the song! I hope it makes sense because the lyrics I translated are not official.

[seethesunny]

Who is your favourite POV to write from?

Hi, it's nice to see you around Arien! Hope you’ve been doing well ❤️

Okay, so when I first got this ask, I was extra sleepy, and my first thought was to reply, "Usually, third person POV, of course!" But now that my brain is okay, I've come to realize I was in the wrong haha so things have settled down now, and I can reply 🫡

Tess! Hands down, Tess. I'm extremely biased, as you may have noticed previously with all the Tess love here 🫣

When I started, it used to be Ellie because she was 'easier' to write, in the sense that she’s way too similar to me and it came naturally and I still think so, but eventually that's why I drifted to other characters' POV. I wanted to explore other perspectives and expand on others.

So, my favorite is Tess not only because we've gotten so little of her in the whole tlou franchise which is extremely criminal and makes no sense and I needed to get more even if it were using imagination (shout-out to the other 10 Tess fans out there), it's also because there are already so many established ways in that she is a complex character even if we had her for a short time.

You see, Tess is a character whose first impression you get is that she's meant to fit in a survival world, right? Whether it's the game or the show. When she shows up us as the players/audience, witness that she's unfazed by her circumstances (she kills two dudes sent to kill her on her way home like it's nothing, escapes her torture and somehow gets out of jail after being mistaken for a firefly) and pulls Joel to follow suit and set everything in order, which is established as their routine, their day-to-day.

Okay, so in both, we understand that Tess is strong, smart, and resourceful, that she's made connections and isn't afraid to make herself be seen and heard, and of course she's the one calling the shots despite Joel being her partner. Because she is more severe than him, and that has gained her respect.

But we also get the idea that there's much more than what she lets on, or at least that she doesn't show up to the public, and that's what's fun to dig into! She's been officially described by ND as: "She leads her life as a hardened survivor with a dog-eat-dog mentality, but still she is a loyal, courageous, and selfless companion to Joel and Ellie", and that's something important to take into account. That duality that she possesses.

Who's the heart of tlou? At its core, Tess's selflessness in her last moments and her death wish is what sets the story in motion. You could argue that Joel could've done the same without her, but it was an explicit reaction to what Tess wanted, and her impact is something that needs to be highlighted more.

She has hardened as much as Joel. She's tough and rough, yet you also see that she also got jokes, and she could've wanted more (discussing laying low in the game), and ultimately, it is her desire of striving for hope and her view being shaken by a feasible cure (not because of the fireflies, but because there seems to be a need of redemption as the wheels turn inside her head) that makes her clash with Joel in their little trip to hand her to the fireflies.

We will never know if she would've done the same as Joel (though I would like to speculate that if it wouldn't have changed, probably would've just said the truth), but exploring her past and other outcomes in aus is what keeps us going even after years.

I've always found kinda sweet how the memory of Tess lives on in us and the other people who will want to know more about her.

Haha sorry for the ramble! She's one of my favorite characters ever.

[pedroscurls]

Title: The Teacher (Part 8).

CHAPTER TITLE: Ellie’s Truth

Character(s): Joel Miller, Reader, Ellie Miller Summary: You find out the truth about Ellie. Word Count: 2,115 Author's Note: I just want to thank everyone for still sticking with this story. I didn’t expect to take a hiatus, but a lot of (very difficult) moments in my life came up in the month of April. I’m glad to be back, glad to be writing again, and I hope you all enjoy.  Warning: None.

You were walking towards your home when you noticed Ellie running straight to her little makeshift home with Joel trailing behind her, calling her name to no avail. 

Earlier that morning, Joel had walked into your house, concerned and frazzled that Ellie had left in the middle of the night and only leaving a note. While the two seemed to be in a heated argument, you were glad that they were both okay. 

“Joel? Everything okay?” You asked, seeing him look over at you when he finally noticed you.

“No.” Joel replied, not bothering to stop as he continued walking towards his own home.

That was new. Usually, Joel would greet you, give you a kiss, even if he had a tough day, but this felt different. While Joel and Ellie had their fair share of arguments, this one seemed to be more serious. You hadn’t ever seen Ellie that angry before.

You sighed to yourself, though. You didn’t want to pry or push the issue, so you kept walking to your home and up the steps of your porch. “Well, I’m here if you need anything, Joel.” You saw him give you a quick nod before he disappeared into his home. Walking inside your own, you shut the door behind you and made your way to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. However, before you could even grab yourself a glass, you heard a knock on your door. Expecting it to be Joel, you called out, “Come in!” 

Then, you heard her voice.

“God, I hate him! So much!” 

Ellie walked into your living, falling onto your couch. 

“Why does he always think he knows better?!” 

You poured water into two glasses, instead of one, and walked into the living room. “You wanna talk about it?” You asked, setting the glasses down on the coffee table and gently nudged her foot, motioning for her to sit up so that she could give you space to sit next to her. “I’m sure whatever he did, he had good intentions.”

Ellie shook her head immediately, sitting up and looking over in your direction. “Not this.”

“Well, he was worried when you left in the middle of the night, with just a note.”

“I needed to leave.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt, Ellie.”

“I’m immune!” She blurted out.

“What?” You asked, confused. “There’s no way that’s possible. What do you mean you’re immune?”

Ellie rolled up her sleeve, showing you the scarring beneath the newly drawn tattoo that Cat had been working on. It definitely looked like a bite mark, but as you glanced between the bite and Ellie, you noticed that Ellie hadn’t turned; she was fine. There was no hint of the bite mark taking its toll on her. You were at a loss for words – how was this possible?

“It’s old.” Ellie said, watching you closely. “The only ones who know are Joel, Tommy, and Maria.”

“Ellie, I don’t–” you sighed. “And you’re okay?”

“Considering everything, I guess.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” You admitted. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”

Ellie bit her lip, pulling her arm back and rolling the sleeve back down to cover the bite mark. “Joel– He was supposed to take me to the Fireflies,” she began. “They said– Marlene said they were going to make a cure and I would be the one to save the fucking world.”

You listened, watching the young girl pull her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she looked away from you. “After all we’ve been through, the people we lost, the people we hurt… And it was all for nothing.”

“What happened, Ellie?” 

Ellie shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “Joel lied to me.”

“Ellie…”

“No, my life would have meant something!” She exclaimed, tears slowly falling from her face. “My life would have fucking mattered!” 

Your heart broke at the sight of Ellie breaking down, so you pulled her into your arms. She sobbed against you, surely staining your shirt with her tears. Her body trembled in your grasp and you simply tightened your arms around her.

“Your purpose in this life is not dependent on that,” you whispered softly. “Besides, who says you still can’t save the world?”

Ellie pulled back enough to look up at you. Confusion spread across her features. “What’s better than a cure?”

You shrugged. Ellie had a point, but making a cure in this world with limited resources? It was highly unlikely that it could have worked. 

“Listen, I won’t lie to you. A cure would be– It’d be great, but I’d rather live in this world with you in it than to live in a world without you.”

Ellie’s eyes softened and she hugged you so tight, holding onto you as if her life depended on it. 

“You find a new purpose,” you said, running your hand along her back. “And whatever that is, you put your all into it. You look down at your arm and you use that as a reminder of a second chance to do what you wanna do.”

“But,” Ellie mumbled. “What if I’m no good at what I choose to do?”

“Something tells me you’ll be good at anything you do, Ellie.” You smiled. “But if you fall, you get back up. No matter what, you always get back up.” You looked down at her, wiping her fallen tears. “This is your life, Ellie. You get to decide what you wanna do with it. No one else. Not the Fireflies. Not Joel. Not me. Only you, Ellie.”

She nodded, hugging you once more. Part of you felt sorry for Ellie – so young and she had been through so much, had been told most of her life what she was meant to do, what her life was supposed to mean, but another part of you understood why Joel did what he did – he had given Ellie the chance to live her life. 

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Sure, of course. How about you take my room and I’ll be out here?”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” you smiled. “Now, why don’t you try to get some rest? You’ve been out all night.”

“You’re gonna talk to Joel, aren’t you?”

You nodded truthfully. “I’m sure he’s hurting too.”

“Good.”

Sighing, you shook your head. “Ellie…”

“I’m still mad at him.”

“I know, and you have every right to be, but I know deep down, you still care about him too.”

Ellie sighed, “unfortunately.”

“Okay, enough of that. Get some sleep. I’ll prepare some food and wake you once it’s done.”

Ellie stood from the couch and sighed. She grabbed the glass of water and looked over at you. “Thanks,” she said softly. “For not being weird about this and just… Just being there for me.”

—

You were on Joel’s doorstep, waiting for him to open the door after you knocked. When he finally opened the door, he was surprised to see you.

“Listen darlin’,” he sighed. “I just wanna be alone and–”

“Ellie told me. Now, can I come in?”

“Ellie told you?” Joel asked, slowly opening the door to let you in.

You walked inside, hearing the door close behind you. You looked around – nothing seemed out of the ordinary, the place wasn’t a mess, but you noticed a glass and a bottle of dark liquor on the coffee table. Joel didn’t drink often and when he did, it was always during dinner with family. If he went out to the Tipsy Bison, he would only have one, never indulging in more than that. And always, he drank beer. So, seeing the hard liquor on his table told you that this was affecting him more than you thought. 

“She’s immune,” you began, turning to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Joel shrugged. “Didn’t know if I could trust you and well, this…” He added, pointing between himself and you. “This is still a bit new.”

You nodded. You could understand exactly where he was coming from – he just wanted to protect Ellie.

“She’s gonna stay with me for the night. Is that okay?”

Joel sighed and walked towards the living room, taking the glass from the table and downing its contents. “I’d rather her be here.” He sat on the couch, glancing over at you.

“She’s upset, Joel,” you replied, following him and sitting across from him.

“She wasn’t ever supposed to find out.”

“Joel,” you sighed. “What happened?”

Joel shook his head. He couldn’t even look at you. Instead, his eyes were focused on his hands. He looked deep in thought with his brows furrowed; you hadn’t ever seen Joel look like this before. 

“Listen, whatever happened– I’m not judging. You did what you needed to do, but Ellie doesn’t see that. At least not right now.”

“You don’t–” Joel began, shaking his head. “You don’t know… I killed everyone in that hospital to save her.” 

“Joel…”

“I couldn’t lose another,” he whispered.

“Another?”

Joel didn’t respond. Instead, he just poured himself another drink. “You should go home, darlin’.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I know you’re used to me not prying, but this one affects Ellie.”

“I ain’t a good man and I meant that.”

“You saved Ellie, Joel…” You whispered. “What would have happened if you didn’t?”

“Marlene– She said the cordyceps spread, growing with Ellie as she got older… The only way for a cure to happen would cost Ellie’s life.” He said, slowly looking up at you. You noticed the look in Joel’s eyes – how could this man think he wasn’t good? There was sincere remorse for the things he had to do to save Ellie, but it also looked like this wasn’t the first time. This wasn’t the first time he lost someone he cared about.

“You chose Ellie… Over the possibility of saving the rest of the world?” 

Joel nodded. “And I would do it all over again if I had to.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Joel interrupted you. His voice was quiet, almost as if he was afraid and hesitant of asking you this question, “Do you hate me because of it?”

“What?” You asked, surprised. “Hate you for saving Ellie?”

“Yeah,” Joel sighed.”

“Hell no, I don’t hate you.”

Joel looked up at you, his eyes wide as if he was expecting a different answer. “What?” 

“Joel,” you sighed. “Do you really believe a cure could have been made? In this world with so few resources?” You scoffed. You didn’t believe that the Fireflies and Marlene were willing to sacrifice a young girl’s life over the slim possibility of a cure. There was no way that they could have made a successful cure in one go, especially not in this world. 

“Y– You don’t think a cure could be made?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“But–”

“I wouldn’t have ever met you, or Ellie… I’d choose this world over the old one.”

“Why?”

You sighed quietly. Truthfully, you didn’t have the answer to that question, so instead, you stood up, took the drink out of his hands, and sat on his lap. Joel immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his face against the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapped around his broad frame, gently rubbing his back.

“When I lost my husband,” you whispered. “My life stopped. I loved him so much…” Tears clouded your eyes and you felt Joel tighten his arms around you, comforting you. “Going back to a world without him… Without you? I wouldn’t want it.”

“But I–”

“Yeah, I know. Ain’t a good man,” you repeated. “To me, you’re just a man protecting the ones you love and care about. If that isn’t good, then I don’t know what is.”

Joel looked up at you. His big, brown eyes were soft, staring lovingly at you. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“What do you mean?”

“You,” he whispered. “You still look at me like… Like I could do no wrong. I killed so many people and–”

“I just know how it feels… To lose someone you love and care about. If I was in your position, I would have done the same thing.” You admitted. “Ellie will be okay–”

“But things are gonna be different,” Joel interrupted.

“Yeah,” you replied. “But give her time.”

Joel sighed. Part of him didn’t care that Ellie was upset with him because it meant that she was still here, still safe, still alive.

“It’ll all be okay,” you whispered reassuringly, softly placing your lips on his temple. 

You heard Joel inhale deeply, then quietly whisper with a shaky voice, “I had a daughter. Her name was Sarah.”

---

Part 9.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be tagged!): @rye-flower, @3zae-zae3, @orangevtae, @flippittygibbitts, @blairfox04, @ohthemisssery, @avengersfan25, @somebodytookmyusername, @littleshadow17, @beltzboys2015-blog, @swimmjacket, @corpsebridenightamare, @thelightnessofthebeing, @dorck26, @ashlynn-crayons, @sexytholland, @surazim, @cedricbitch, @cali-ko, @lasthongos, @impala1967666​, @sana-li, @coldheartedmar​

[a-really-bad-decision]

Look. I get that folks who are approaching the finale from this angle are usually doing so from a place of genuine good faith and love for Joel. But like. If your immediate reaction after finishing season 1 is to insist that the cure never could have been developed/distributed/tested/viable and that the Fireflies were stupid/naive/slapdicks/never could have accomplished it anyways, so Joel Definitely Did Nothing Wrong, I can’t help but feel like you’re wildly missing the point of it all.

Because like. Joel did not ever care if the cure could have worked. He did not care if it’s what Ellie might have wanted in that moment (neither did the fireflies of course, but they’re not the ones who traveled by her side, protected her, made her feel safe and cared about). Neither of these were ever a point of consideration in the finale. Ellie’s death and the resultant hypothetical cure could have had a guaranteed 100% success rate. It could have spread instantly, around the world the moment they removed her brain from her skull, turning every single runner, clicker, and bloater back to a healthy human being, with no deleterious side effect.

And Joel still would have shot that doctor point blank in the face.

Because that moment right there, is the point. To me at least. It’s the climax that the whole story has been building towards: a father’s beautiful, selfish decision to save his daughter at the literal cost of the entire world. And not just the world in an abstract sense, but in ways that carry weight to him on a deeply personal level. Tess’ dying wish. A real future for his niece or nephew. Ellie’s own agency in all of this. And he did it without hesitating for a moment.

Going from treating Ellie like cargo, like a clicker waiting to happen, to deciding that her life is more important to him than than any other human being who was or ever will be born? Regardless of whether it’s “““healthy”””, that’s an incredible fucking relationship arc. And it only has this level of gravity and meaning if there are genuine consequences to making that decision.

(And let me be clear here: none of this is a moral indictment of Joel. Joel’s motivations, actions, decisions etc. are all incredibly blatant, human, and relatable, and if he’d done anything but go on that rampage, it would have contradicted everything we know and understand about him so far. Also, he’s fucking fictional. Who gives a shit if he did a Kinda Amoral Thing. None of it is real, and it doesn’t matter)

The argument here isn’t that Fireflies Good And Smart And Can Totally Save The World For Sure Guys, or Joel Did Objectively Bad Thing And Is Unforgivable Bad Forever Now. The argument is that the show is much more interesting and internally consistent if you buy into the idea that there’s a chance, even a slim one, that the fireflies could have extracted a viable vaccine at the terrible cost of a fourteen year old girl’s life. That maybe Joel did prevent a cure from being made – that he potentially did doom the world for Ellie (or at least doomed it to another few decades of limping painfully by until something else came along). And that despite the cost, he pulled that trigger, brutally and without hesitation. He did it knowing that he’ll have to go on living with the knowledge of what he took from everyone, and how effortless it was to make that choice in spite of it all. That he’ll willingly betray Ellie’s trust as many times as he has to if it means keeping her from taking the burden of that guilt on herself, but also because he can’t bear the thought of her hating him if she learned the truth. And most of all (and in his own words), that if he was given the chance to go back and do it again, he would have made the exact same choice all over.

You take that out, and what kinda finale do you get now? A run and gun scene of a man rescuing a girl that he’s come to love, sure, but now it’s from a bunch of one dimensional, child murdering villains, set in a place they never had to go to, preceded by a journey that was rendered useless before they even left, all because there was never any chance of it working in the first place. Pointless roundabout cynicism, and an endpoint that now textually only existed to stick the protagonists in their get along sweater.

You don’t have to agree with this specific interpretation of the ending. I get that this can come across as a harsh reading of Joel, especially since he’s a character that myself and others genuinely like a lot. But that nitpicky fixation on proving that the cure never could have worked always felt more for the benefit of the uncomfortable player/viewer than as any sort of actual narrative improvement. A way to divest yourself of ever having to sit with the weight of either choice. Of having to think about the way that a secret so massive, sitting unspoken between you and a loved one, can rot that relationship. Of the way that someone you thought you trusted can act in your best interests, but against your own wishes.

And if that’s not what you want from the show, genuinely and without judgment: that’s fine. You keep doing you. I’m just not sure why you’re watching something like tlou otherwise.

[running-tweezers]

~ Pictures Of You - Part 3 ~

Nate comes to Zephyr’s show armed with newfound music knowledge, hoping to bridge the gap even further. But can he ever really be anything more than the ‘normal guy on the phone’ in their eyes?

…. Also who is Mercutio?

Rated T

2678 Words

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

~ May 12, 1989 ~

This time he was prepared.

There were three new tapes in Nate’s music collection. The Cure, Bauhaus, and Sisters of Mercy slotting into his cassette rack right next to Billy Joel and The Go-Gos. He had stopped by the mall record store after meeting up with his sister, with last week's pay and mission.

“Did you find what you were looking for today?” The bored teenager behind the counter repeated the question for what was probably the 50th time today, without even looking up from her copy of Seventeen.

“I did, thanks.” Nate put the three tapes down in front of him, the other hand still clutching the scribbled envelope list.

“Great.” The cashier bent the corner of her magazine, swiped the tapes, and started pushing buttons on the register, only now taking the chance to glance up and see who put them there.

She rang up the selections, glancing back up to him, more and more baffled after each one. She didn’t say anything, just continued punching register buttons and smacking her gum, but it was easy to see what was going on in her head.

She couldn’t parse out why someone who looked straight out of a JCPenny catalog would be buying freak music like this.

Nate just smiled and stood his ground. She could give him all the weird looks she wanted. He was just happy to finally have some common ground with Zephyr.

Since then he had been counting the seconds until Thursday night. He had so much to talk to them about he could hardly contain himself. The second they hit the air at 1 AM, he reached to pick up the phone, but pulled his hand back. Not yet. Let them get going. At least let them do their intro. No need to be that eager.

“Listen, I’ve got to talk about this tonight because it’s making me want to rip my hair out lately.” Zephyr began as soon as they finished their usual opening, leaning forward in their chair with purpose. “If I see or hear anything related to New Kids On The Block one more time, I’m going to fucking commit a crime.” They pointed a stern finger down on the desk in front of them with the last words, for emphasis. “When I’m at work, sometimes the shop will have the radio on this stupid pop station, and I hear that shit constantly. And my grandm—“ They shook their head and quickly changed course. “My boss won’t let me change it because it’s ’what people like.’”

They punctuated their last sentence with an eye roll so powerful Nate felt it through the TV. He felt very little one way or another towards this new teen sensation of the moment, but even he could agree it was a little over-saturated.

He couldn’t ignore their little slip though. They’d never said anything about where they worked or really anything that personal before. He wanted to know more. He longed to know the real person behind the screen so, so badly.

“Their songs aren’t even four minutes long, and I want to shove an ice pick in my ear by the minute and half mark.” They continued, annoyance on full display. “Some of my favorite songs are over ten minutes, and I never get tired of them. But then again, those songs have, you know, a soul.”

Nate laughed to himself. He listened to those tapes all week, letting them play in the background while he made dinner, or plotted garden layouts for clients, or tended to his own plants. A few times he had spaced out while focusing on not burning onions or repotting overgrown ivy, and when he tuned back in five minutes later, realized that the song was still going. He wasn’t used to a song lasting that long, but it was nice in a way. Some of the drawn out runtimes really created a mood. Like it might be nice to put on when you really wanted to just lay there and feel something.

Putting it on in the background of other activities had definitely crossed his mind as well, probably more than he’d like to admit. But he didn’t want to think about that for too long. Not right now at least.

“It just feels so… Manufactured.” Their face curled in disgust. “So corporate. All I hear when I listen to it is men in suits doing focus group testing. Figuring out what appeals to a demographic of teenage girls so they’ll spend all their parents money on tapes and posters and concert tickets. Its all perfectly crafted to sell copies of Tiger Beat, or whatever. That’s not music, that’s predatory. But hey, it’s ‘what people like’, right? I swear, sometimes I think MTV was a mistake—“ They paused their rant to look down at the switchboard. “Oh, we’ve got a caller.”

Nate braced himself for the worst, still wary from those terrible calls weeks ago.

“You’re on the air.”

“Yeah, hey, maybe I’m crazy, but I think I saw you at the show at Mercutio’s last weekend? On Saturday, I think?”

He let out a breath. Just a normal caller.

“You probably did.” One corner of Zephyr's mouth ticked up very slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I was there.”

“Do you go there a lot? It was the first time I actually got inside. ”

“I mean, I’m usually either at The Underground or Sanctuary on the weekends. I don’t go to Mercutio’s that often. I try. Everyone tries. But you know how it usually is getting in.” That knowing smirk reappeared. “Usually.”

Nate watched on, confused. He was completely out of the loop while they talked about all this like it was common knowledge. But even barely knowing what was going on, he could see there was something in that smirk. Like they were hiding a secret behind it. Like they’d be proud to spill it if only someone asked the right questions.

“God, I know, they’re ruthless at the door,” the phone guy lamented. “It feels like a fucked up popularity contest. I still can’t believe I got in Saturday.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a couple of times before last weekend, and it’s always a struggle unless you’re on the list.” Their smug look only grew. “Like I am, now.”

“No shit? How did you manage that?”

Zephyr shrugged. “I was just there alone, and this guy came up and said someone at the bar wanted to talk to me. Turns out it was Mercutio himself.”

“Holy shit.” The phone guy seemed awestruck at that information. “What did he want?”

“Just to talk. And buy me a couple drinks.” They were glowing with pride at this point, plus something else that Nate couldn’t quite place. “He’s incredible in person by the way. Larger than life almost. It’s hard not to feel a little starstruck.”

Nate’s stomach sank. Something about this seemed… wrong.

He shook the feeling. It was probably fine. They seemed really happy about it. That was a good thing. He hated to admit it, but that wrongness he felt was probably just plain jealousy. He wasn’t usually the jealous type, but sitting next to them at the bar in some dark club, having a conversation in person instead of over the phone, was the stuff daydreams were made of. It was hard not to be a little envious.

“But after we talked for a little bit, he said I should come in next weekend. Hang out with him and his friends.” Zephyr continued, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole situation. “So he put me on the list. Said he’d introduce me to the band playing too. Which is great, honestly. Making connections like this is gonna be good for the show. I’d love to have some guests on eventually.”

See, this was good. They were making connections for their show. Nate tried convincing himself, but that nagging feeling remained.

God, maybe he was being weird about this.

“Damn,” the caller breathed out in disbelief. “You’re lucky as fuck.”

“I don’t know, it could’ve happened to anyone, I guess.” Zephyr shrugged again. “Keep trying to get in, maybe you’ll get lucky too. And if you see me in there again, come talk to me, maybe I can put in a good word for you.”

The caller scoffed lightheartedly. “Sure man. I will.”

“Well then good luck, thanks for the call, have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Zephyr hung up the call, pleased with themself. “I wasn’t gonna talk about all that yet, but hey. Now it’s out there I guess. Pretty exciting stuff. But anyway, where was I…” They squinted their eyes, trying to remember. “Oh right! MTV.”

They started their rant about the evils of sell-out culture again, and Nate looked back towards the phone. Something about that exchange knocked all the excitement out of him. What chance did he even have with them? There was a whole culture he was unaware of. Underground shows, clubs, and well known club owners. He only listened to Bauhaus for the first time last week. They had so little in common. There was no way someone like Zephyr would ever see him as more than just a novelty. That normal guy who watches their show and asks questions.

Maybe he shouldn’t call in at all.

“And I just feel like ever since, all that matters in music anymore is appearances. Pretty faces churning out the same bland pop songs, slapping them over a flashy video, and boom, millions of dollars.” Zephyr continued on the TV. “I just wish more people would expand their horizons a little. Look for stuff outside the top 40. Like that guy that called last week asking for music recs. That’s what more people need to be doing.”

Nate snapped back to attention immediately.

Him.

They were talking about him.

He felt the stupid grin spread across his face. Maybe there was a chance after all. He reached for the phone again, his hope restored.

“You’re on the air.”

“Hi! It’s me again.” Nate barely had time to feel stupid about that same too eager greeting, before seeing Zephyr’s small smile on the screen.

“Speak of the devil.” Zephyr leaned forward on the desk in front of him. It felt casual. Like they were just having a regular, in-person conversation. Comfortable. “Hello again, Normal Nate.”

“Well, maybe a little less normal than last time.” Nate tucked his feet up under him on the couch, getting comfy himself. “I went and bought some of the albums you recommended, and I’ve been listening all week.”

“For real?” Zephyr asked, a little taken aback. Like they hadn’t actually expected him to do it. “What did you get?”

“I uh… I can’t remember the album names without looking,” Nate said, a little embarrassed again at his lack of knowledge. “But they were the bands you said. Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy… Oh, and the new album you talked about last week. Disintegration?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Zephyr’s grin grew a little bigger, a potent combination of disbelief and validation. “You really went to buy them?”

“Yeah! I tried finding, what was it…” He grabbed the list, still laying on the end table for reference, but now creased from folding it up in his pocket. “Siouxsie? The one you had to spell for me. But they didn’t have it there.”

“That’s… that’s fine!” They looked almost as excited as they’d been last week talking about their new favorite album. “I just can’t believe you actually did it.”

Zephyr’s relaxed, cool smirk, like the one they had earlier when they talked about that Mercutio guy, was well rehearsed. It was put on for the cameras, with a closed mouth and a slight raise of their brow. A little smug, a little mysterious, unflappable and confident.

Their actual smile was nothing like that. It was big, and a little lopsided, showing teeth and wrinkling the corners of their eyes a bit. Vulnerable, and joyful, and real. He loved that smile.

And he was the one who put it there this time.

“I mean, I guess now I have to ask,” Zephyr said, with that beautiful real grin. “What do you think? Did you like it?”

“I liked most of it, yeah!” Nate answered. “Some of it was a little… not what I’m used to, but I really liked a lot of it. It surprised me.”

“Surprised you, how?”

“Well…” Nate paused to choose his words carefully. “It was a lot less… mopey than I expected?”

That earned him a laugh.

“I’m sorry!” Nate continued. “I was just expecting a bunch of doom and gloom and sadness. And it wasn’t really like that.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I get it.” Zephyr assured, coming down from their laughing fit. “We have a little bit of a reputation, I know. But you’re right, it isn’t all like that. Some of it is. But a lot of it’s way more upbeat than most people expect.”

“Yeah some of it was actually really catchy. I’ve had that one song stuck in my head all week, what was it?… The one with the choir at the beginning? Corrosion, something?”

“Oh absolutely, This Corrosion, Sisters of Mercy. That’s a great one, it definitely sticks with you.” Zephyr nodded in agreement.

The more they talked, the more relief Nate felt. This was working. They were connecting. It didn’t feel weird, or forced, or like he was faking it. It felt as natural as breathing. Like he could talk to them all night, if only their slot wasn’t over in 10 minutes.

“Tell me though, what did you think of Disintegration?” Zephyr asked, expectantly. “It’s a masterpiece, right?”

“Honestly, that was probably my favorite! And I’m not just saying that because it’s your favorite too, I promise.” Nate laughed. “I really liked it, I’ve listened to it the most.”

“Right? I’ve been listening to it so much too, it hasn’t left my stereo since I bought it.” They gushed, that familiar passion in their eyes. “What’s your favorite track?”

“Hmm…” He thought out loud. He was having fun now. “Probably Lovesong. Oh, and that one you talked about a couple weeks ago! Fascination Street. That one really surprised me.”

“Yeah it's definitely a little more upbeat.”

“It is! But it wasn’t just that.”

For a few split seconds that felt like ages, Nate debated crossing a line. From friendly conversation to something more. Just a little. To test the waters. Before he dove into full blown flirting on live TV.

“To be honest, it was surprisingly… sexy?”

The word left his mouth and Zephyr’s eyes widened.

“Sorry,” he laughed, hoping their shock was the amused kind. “Is that weird to say?”

“No, you’re fine!” Zephyr matched their energy. “I mean… you’re not wrong.”

“I don’t know, it just seems like good make out music. Hypothetically.” Nate silently thanked whoever was up there that they could only hear him right now. Or else they’d notice the blush creeping across his face. It was a thought he had the very first time he listened. A thought that turned into a daydream. A daydream with a subject that wasn’t so hypothetical.

Zephyr let out a small, breathy chuckle. They bit their bottom lip just a little and looked down at the desk, like they couldn’t meet his eyes, even when he wasn’t physically there.

Nate lit up. That was new.

He got them flustered.

He could get used to that.

“You ok?” Nate asked, sounding as innocent as possible, hiding a mischievous grin.

“Yeah!” Zephyr looked back up. “Yeah, I’m ok. I just… I really wasn’t expecting you to say that.” They composed themself, that little practiced smirk returning. “I’m glad I could give you a new soundtrack to put on next time you bring someone home.”

“Well, there hasn’t really been anyone to bring home in a while. But I’ll keep it in mind.”

They had no idea how much he would be keeping it in mind.

~

( @pinksparkl @phantasmechanical @definetelynuwonhere )

[hypnotisedfireflies]

IF Abby exist in the drifter's universe and

except Tess living, everything else follow the events of TLOU II....How do you think Tess would react to Joel's death ? Would you even kill him ?? How do you think these events would happen in the drifter's universe ? 👀

Thanks for your ask, Anon. :) This reply will contain a few spoilers for Drifter's Dusk and TLOU 2.

I do need to first preface this by saying I respect what they did in TLOU 2. I think it was a very smart and creative move to take the story in that way and challenge the players so cruelly and morally rather than recycle what they did in the previous game. So I have a great deal of respect and admiration for the creators to take this path.

However, I hate it.  Lol.

I just like to pretend it didn't happen.  Call me basic but I would've preferred them recycle shit than the story we got, even though I know it was actually a genius decision.  But I hate it.

Abby lives in Driftersverse.  Tess's final ramblings at the end of Dusk were my way of alluding to the possibility of Abby emerging without actually committing to it.

“Is anyone left? Joel.” She gave him a little shake and pulled back enough to see his eyes. “Did you leave anyone?”

“I don’t remember. I think so. I just – it was just who was in the way.”

“Okay. Okay, we’ll deal with it. If it – if it comes up. We’ll deal with it.”

She’s already thinking ahead, knowing that this could have serious ramifications.  He destroyed the possibility of a cure in the minds of a lot of people. 

I won’t be writing anything that goes further to this canon in Driftersverse because my feelings toward TLOU 2.  HOWEVER, if it were to happen, if Abby did do what Abby does … she’s not getting away when Tommy and Tess go after her, I can tell you that. 

(And look, if it had been Joel and Tess on patrol when Abby was originally encountered, it's unlikely Abby would've been saved by them anyway, because of Tess's penchant for shooting strangers dead).

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Fourteen

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

He turns the gun on himself and pulls the trigger.

Joel holds my wrist as he takes us back to the truck that we left a few miles away. I've managed to calm my breathing but with each step I take I realize that I was right, Joel was hiding something and now I'm regretting not leaving when I had the chance.

The truck comes into view and we reach it quickly. Joel puts me in the passenger side with a shove before he goes around to the driver's side and starts the truck. The tires squeal with how fast he starts accelerating and I look out the window, calculating my odds of surviving if I jump out. I think if I let my bag take the brunt of the contact I should be okay, I just have to get my nerve up to jumping. My fingers grasp the material tightly and I try to casually let my fingers drift to the handle.

Unfortunately for me, Joel is honed in on my movements and his hand grips my wrist again. My eyes lock onto his large hand wrapped around my wrist and he glances over at me. He probably sees someone who's lost their sanity, and he would be right. His gaze softens oddly and his grasp on my wrist loosens but he keeps it there for the rest of the ride, until the truck comes to a sputtering stop. We've run out of gas. Could things possibly get any worse?

Joel's free hand comes down and smacks the steering wheel in frustration, causing me to flinch at his outburst. He catches my movement and sighs, opening the door to get out. The cool handle of the door is under my fingers and I look around us, planning my escape route. The truck decided to run out of gas in the middle of nowhere, not exactly ideal for a getaway. There are only overgrown fields and road.

Deciding to just go for it, I open the door and start running again. But like my last escape attempt, Joel is right there and his arms snake around my waist to stop me. I thrash in his hold and beg him to let me go.

"Just fuckin' stop for a minute." He holds me tightly until I stop thrashing around. I'm sure he can feel my racing heart against his arms. Once he's sure I'm not going to take off he places my feet back on the ground and I force myself to turn and face him.

He's backed up a few feet from me and I cross my arms over my chest in some sort of self protection. But honestly, if he wanted to do something to me there would be no way I could protect myself. Silently, I stare at him with scared eyes. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before he speaks.

"It wasn't like that, things didn't happen the way he said they did." His voice is level but I can tell he's straining not to yell. My throat has gone dry but I force myself to speak up.

"So you're telling me that you're the one who killed Marlene?" My eyes bore into his and he sighs again, but nods.

"Yeah. I did. I had to. There was no other way." His arms hang down by his side and his voice has lowered. I shake my head as I try to make sense of everything that's happened.

"Wait. So Marlene's job she gave you was to transport an immune girl to the Fireflies for a cure? And then you killed them all?" It almost sounds like a bad joke, in some twisted way.

I so desperately need things laid out for me in a play-by-play so I can understand what's going on. This truly has morphed into something bigger than myself. Joel nods his head, dropping his eyes from mine.

"Simply put, yes." He admits and as if a lightbulb turned itself on in my mind, my eyes grow wide.

"That's what you were keeping from me. The word immune on that paper was about that girl. You knew that. Why didn't you tell me?" Anger bubbles into my voice and I realize that if he was honest about that then things back with Trevor might've gone differently. Joel puts his hands on his hips.

"I can't just be tellin' people that she's immune. Hell I don't even want you to know." He begins pacing back and forth in front of me, worry and stress evident on his face. His words sit heavy in my mind, he was just trying to protect that girl. A frustrated hand rakes through my hair and I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"You knew those people were looking for her, and so you were going to Omaha with me to make sure they can't hurt her. It was never about safety, it was about her." Things start making more sense to me now. I knew there was no way he was just so genuinely concerned about my safety. He was using me as a means to and end. Joel was just going to let me work this mystery while he held half of the answers. My eyes lock back onto Joel and his face is blank.

"I didn't know they were looking for her until after I offered for us to stick together." He points out. In my rage I guess I had forgotten about that. He did in fact offer to stick together after the barricade, before he knew about the note. A jumbled mix of emotions race in my head and I can't seem to think straight. I need to get away from him so that I can think clearly.

"Give me some time." I hold up a hand and walk off into one of the overgrown fields.

I keep my back to him and let myself fall into a trance, needing so badly to get a grip on my thoughts. It's easy enough for me to accept that he killed Marlene, I never liked her anyways. But the part about gunning down an entire hospital for one girl gets me. Why would he do all of that if there was a cure on the line? I file that question away for a follow up and try to navigate the next thing that's bothering me.

While I can establish an understanding of the events leading up to the Fireflies hiring the T group, there's one nagging question. If the Fireflies knew the immune person was a girl, why does the instruction note say all teenage children? That also gets filed away in my brain.

The thought of there being someone immune to cordyceps is also throwing me for a loop. Never in ten years have I heard of such a thing. I wonder if there are more like her out there; if she's truly immune. As my racing mind begins to slow with a better understanding of things, I turn back and see Joel leaning up against the truck, his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. His head turns and looks at me, and with a sigh I walk back over to him, feeling less angry than I did.

Before he can speak, I hold up a hand, needing him to answer some more things for me. He shifts his weight and I take in a deep breath.

"If this girl is immune, and they were going to make a cure, why'd you kill everyone?" The number one question on my mind may give me more of an insight as to why things played out the way they did. Joel swallows hard and looks down at me,

"There was never a guarantee they were going to get a cure from her. And in order for them to even try, they would have had to-" He pauses and draws in a breath, "they would have had to get to her brain." His voice is soft and genuine, and I search his eyes for any hint of a lie, but finding nothing but sincerity.

"So this girl would have died. You weren't going to let that happen." I venture to guess, I mean it's the only thing that makes sense. He nods his head,

"She would have." Suddenly, it makes sense. The secrecy, the hatred of Fireflies, all of it. It was all in the name of protecting this girl he obviously cares so deeply for. As a parent, I understand all too well and I know that if my child were in that situation there would be no length too great, no sacrifice too much.

I place a hand on Joel's shoulder and sigh, knowing that I owe him an apology for some of my thoughts and behaviors.

"I'm sorry Joel. And I understand why you didn't want me to know. But, if I had known, maybe things could've ended differently back there." I tell him, not letting him completely off the hook.

"Maybe." He shrugs and I remove my hand from his muscular arm. There are still things I'd like to discuss with him, but I'm getting the feeling he doesn't want to lay everything out right now. I'm sure in the many miles we have left in front of us that there will be time.

Instead of pushing anything further, I lead us away from the truck, having no choice but to move forward from here. The faded yellow lines in the road reminds me that we have to keep going, we can't afford to stay in one place. Joel's footsteps fall behind me and we keep our distance from one another and it's obvious we both have the same thing on our minds.

If his girl really is immune, then I don't blame him for wanting to keep her hidden away. A gift like that is sure to be sought after by desperate people who still cling to what the world used to be. Even if they could create a cure, who knows if they'd even be able to mass produce it and distribute it. A cure wouldn't mean the reconstruction of society, I fear we're too far gone for that possibility. Cordyceps is just an unfortunate fact of life now.

I try to let go of my bitterness for Joel I held so tightly the past few days. While his secrecy scared me, he had to have been more scared of me finding out the truth. Having someone know a secret of this magnitude is a big deal, and I promise to myself that I will never tell another living soul what I know. The girl's life is too precious, and I could never put someone's child at risk.

The love he must hold for this girl is something moving. While they're not blood, I know that they have to share an incredible bond with one another. To face a building full of people by yourself to save their life is not something anyone does lightly. No, Joel was prepared to go down in that hospital to save her, I'm convinced of that.

The fading sunlight paints the sky a beautiful, rich amber color. We probably have another half hour of light left, maybe less.

With the day's light waning, I squint as I notice a large structure ahead, it looks like it might be a farm. I slow my pace to walk in stride with Joel and point to the barn that sticks out in the field.

"Probably could hole up there for the night." I say, wanting to bring our dynamic back to normalcy and drop any tension he might be feeling.

The last thing I want is for him to becoming untrusting of me because I know his secret. In fact, I want him to become more trusting of me for the same reason. I'm not sure why, but I want Joel to genuinely trust me. He nods his head and we keep our casual pace towards the farm.

By the time we make it to the property, the sun is barely visible on the horizon. A white two-story house with a wraparound porch sits at the end of the long driveway and I can tell this place used to be busy. There's abandoned equipment everywhere and a tire swing hangs from a solid branch of the large oak tree that's at the forefront of the front yard.

My attention turns towards the barn, wanting to make sure it's clear before we head to the house. My boots crunch against the rough gravel driveway, and Joel helps me pull the heavy door back. The door slides open with a squeal and I hold my breath, half expecting an infected to run out at us.

Joel walks into the barn with his rifle raised and I hang back by the entrance, hand hovering over my own gun. If there were clickers or infected in there, they would have run out by now but I can't stop my paranoia. I take half a step forward and hear a sliding sound behind me. My head whips around and I see nothing behind me, it was probably just my imagination.

Turning around, I go to join Joel in the barn when I hear the unmistakable sound of metal clicking. Maybe it wasn't my imagination after all.

"Hands in the air or I shoot!" Someone barks an order at me. I raise my hands above my shoulders, back still turned to the house. My limbs all stiffen and I try to think of a way out of this situation. Before I do anything, the voice calls out again.

"Drop your weapons and turn around. You have ten seconds!" It sounds like a woman's voice yelling down at me. With shaking fingers, I grab my gun and toss it to the ground, and drop my hunting knife. My curved blade stays tucked in my waistband because I know my shirt is concealing it. Slowly, I take small steps to turn around and my eyes drift up to the second floor of the house where the barrel of a sniper rifle is pointed right at me.

I was right, there in the window behind the gun is an older woman. She looks at me through the scope and adjusts her aim. My eyes flick to the left and right, and I see an old tractor tire laying on the grass. It could provide some cover, but not much and not for long.

"Get the hell off my farm." The woman barks at me and I hear a door open from the back of the house. Seconds later, an older man steps into my vision, his gun also raised and pointed right at me. They must've never left their farm, judging by the way the man is dressed in a blue flannel and overalls. He steps close to me with a sawed-off shotgun pointed right at my abdomen.

As I go to turn and walk back up the driveway, a shot sounds off and the rifle in the second story window drops to the ground. The woman's body follows right after and lands with a grotesque thud. The man turns back to see the dead woman on the ground, and I seize the opportunity to grab the shotgun out of his grasp.

His handle on his gun is firmer than I gave him credit for, and we wrestle back and forth. He makes a strained sound and my eyes snap up to his face where I see tears streaming down his cheeks. My heart shatters at the sight, but I have to get this gun away from him so he doesn't kill me as revenge. With one strong pull, he grabs the gun from my hands and before I can even blink, he turns the gun on himself and pulls the trigger.

His body folds on itself and he drops to the ground. My hands are frozen in the air as if I'm still trying to grab the gun from him and I watch in horror as his blood stains the green grass. The man's warm blood drips down my face and all I can do is blink rapidly, my brain processing what I just saw.

"Noelle." Joel's voice breaks me from my shock and I look at him as he slings his own rifle on his back. My eyes burn from being so wide and my arms drop back down to my sides.

Joel stands in front of me and his thumbs come up to wipe blood off of my forehead before it can drip down into my eyes. He roughly turns me around by the shoulders and ushers me towards the house. I stumble up the front stairs and open the door, met with nothing but an eerie silence. The door slams shut behind me as I take a few shuffled steps inside the house.

Joel moves things around behind me but all I can do is focus on the pictures that hang on the wall, all in antique frames, and I can't be bothered to focus on what he's doing.

A man and a woman smile hauntingly at me from one of the frames, their smiles reaching their eyes. In another photo, they clutch on to each other in a passionate kiss, the woman wearing a long white dress and the man in a sharp suit. They stand in front of the barn in another, the man holding a pitchfork and the woman leaning into his side. Bile rises in my throat and I quickly step forward and grab all of the frames off the wall in a frenzy.

My arms are stacked with frames as I rip every last one from the wall. There's an open linen closet behind the couch and I place the photos there and close the door. My fingertips leave a rusty red stain on the white wood of the door, and I forcefully wipe my hands on my pant legs, which are also covered in blood. My heart races as I try to rid myself of blood but I'm unable to do so. Blood from Trevor's office now mixes with blood from the old man and I feel like I'm drowning in it.

Drops of blood start caking on my face and I can feel it settling into my skin. My fingernails scratch at the feeling but I can't seem to get it off of me. Remnants of dead people linger on my body and my hands raise in front of my face. I stare in shock at my hands that are coated in crimson and my ears start ringing.

"Hey. Hey look at me." Joel stands in front of me and shakes my shoulders. His dark brown eyes look over my face and he grabs both of my hands in one of his. His skin is free of blood.

"I- I can't. Their-my skin." Words tumble out of my mouth incoherently. Joel nods his head, mouth hanging slightly open.

"I know. I know, come on." He pulls me into the kitchen and turns the faucet. To my surprise, water flows out of the spicket.

"How is that possible"? It's almost like the water is a figment of my imagination. The water swirls at the bottom of the sink before it goes down the drain.

"This is a farm, they probably have their own well." He answers with confidence. His eyes drop down to my death-covered clothes and he sighs.

"Stay here." He instructs and drops my hands from his. He walks up the stairs and I watch in confusion as he disappears on the second story.

Not wasting any time, I run my hands under the running water and scrub the rusty-colored blood off to the best of my ability before shutting off the water.

As I'm temporarily distracted from the blood coating me, I look around and notice the house is remarkably clean. There are dishes drying in the rack next to the sink, and a pan sits on the stove. In the dining room adjacent to the kitchen I see an open bottle of wine accompanied with two glasses, each a quarter of the way full. The living room couch is decorated with slouched pillows and a hand-made quilt drapes over the side.

Joel's boots on the stairs catches my attention and I look back up to him as he descends. He sees me standing in the same place he left me and he beckons me to follow him up the stairs with a motion of his hand. I follow and notice small nails sticking into the walls, but nothing is on them.

There are three rooms on the second story and Joel leads me to the one that has an open door, letting me go in first. I step into the bathroom and spot a towel on the large counter, a shirt and pants right next to it. My eyebrows scrunch in confusion and I turn around, seeing Joel standing with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"They have runnin' water. Get cleaned up, I'll be downstairs." He says, averting his gaze from me before he turns on his heel and walks away, closing the door as he goes. Silently, I look around and catch my reflection in the mirror. Stepping forward, I catch myself on the counter and let my arms support me as I truly take in what I've become.

My face is almost unrecognizable to me. Dried blood soaks into wrinkles that never used to be there, dark circles decorate my under eyes. My eyes no longer shine like I remember them, their color is dull now, almost flat and my hands come up to touch my face, solidifying that it's actually me I'm looking at. What once used to be shiny, healthy hair is now a tangled mess. My frame is even smaller than what I remember, thanks to malnutrition.

I force myself to look away, barely recognizing the woman who stares back at me. Instead, I focus on taking my boots off, then my socks. My thoughts narrate my motions to keep me from focusing on the past thirty minutes and keeps me present in the moment. Once I'm naked, I keep my line of vision away from the mirror and turn around to start the water for my shower.

Stepping into the porcelain tub, I watch as the water is tinged red as the gore is washed off of me. There are bottles in the shower, all unlabeled but I don't care what's in them. Unscrewing the caps, I figure it's probably some sort of homemade soap. Either way, it smells clean and so I douse my entire body in it.

After I'm satisfied with how clean I feel, I step out and grab the towel on the counter, taking time to dry myself off. I hope I saved enough water for Joel, I'll feel like a complete ass if he's left with cold water.

Draping the towel over the curtain rod, I begin redressing myself. I shrug on the plain black shirt and pull the new pants over my legs. The pants are a little big, but I can manage with my belt.

I take my old clothes in my hands and go into the next room. There's a large bed in the center of it, and I drop the dirty clothes into a basket situated in the corner of the room. Shamelessly, I rummage through the drawers until I find socks, and pick out a pair that looks durable. After I put them on I look around the other drawers and decide to repay the favor to Joel.

I pick out a button up denim shirt and a pair of dark jeans, and remember to grab a fresh pair of socks for him as well. Placing them on the counter like he did for me, I open the slender door next to the shower, seeing neatly folded towels, and I place one beside the clothes.

Grabbing my boots, I make my way back down to Joel where I'm sure he's more than ready to get a proper shower as well.

Part Fifteen

[pizzaboat]

Yeah!

And like, in no way was it possible to distribute the (impossible) vaccine to anyone outside of the fireflies (in a fun world where vaccinations against fungal infections are a thing)

No one would accept that shit, aside from like, a few people, FEDRA wouldn't let it be distributed in the QZs, people like Bill wouldn't trust the vaccine and people like David wouldn't let his group take it because its easier to control people when they think they can't survive without you

If the vaccine was distributed to any group of people they'd just use it to make their already existing lives easier, an example is, raiders would raid without fear of infection, and people would still get torn apart by infected for decades to come

Ellie would've died for nothing

"Oh, but joel believed in a vaccine, so he still made the choice to go against a cure he believed in for his daughter"

I don't know a single decent parent who would put the world before their kid. And that's still a dumb argument, because who gives a shit if Joel was as uneducated about this shit as the fireflies

The fireflies would have never pulled it off!

What? Would Joel be a hero for letting his daughter die because of misconceptions and the never seeing things get better after she's gone??

Who wins if Ellie dies?

No one!

The debate is so stupid lmao

me, clocking into my part-time job of defending joel miller after the tlou finale:

[novelmonger]

Just remembered I had a really interesting Last of Us AU dream last night. Unfortunately, it contains major spoilers and I hardly know anyone who knows the story, so I'm putting it below the cut.

I was Ellie in the dream, and I think it was supposed to be happening when they're at the university. But they ended up staying there for much longer than they do in the game (there weren't any infected there), and I think it happened after Joel gets stabbed? Also, Tess was still there. She hadn't been bitten, so she'd been along for the journey the whole time, and she'd grown closer to Ellie just like Joel had. They'd sort of developed a little makeshift family between the three of them, with Tess softening sort of like Joel does, and taking on an almost motherly role with Ellie.

I don't know if that's a realistic outcome of having Tess survive. Part of the reason Joel and Ellie do become so close over the course of the story is that they only have each other to rely on most of the time. If Tess were with them too, would they have developed such a close bond? I'm not sure.

Anyway, in the dream they actually had some kind of experiment going with a bunch of vials of blood, and they seemed to think they could somehow develop a cure that way. So they were hanging around the university before continuing on to the Fireflies, while waiting for the experiment to finish and for Joel to fully recover.

But Ellie had discovered something - maybe somehow she realized or knew already that it wouldn't work with just blood, but she'd have to die? So in the middle of the night, she snuck into the lab where they had the vials of blood, and she smashed all of them, crying the whole time. Then she tried to fill up more vials with her blood for some reason, but she couldn't find any more empty vials. She'd destroyed them all.

In the middle of all of this, Tess came into the lab and saw what Ellie was doing. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Ellie confessed to what she'd done, and though Tess looked grave and somber about it, she didn't get angry. She just pulled Ellie into a hug and let her cry.

Then they heard Joel calling them from down the hall, asking about breakfast or something. And Tess and Ellie gave each other a look of instant agreement: Don't tell Joel. Somehow, in this AU, they knew Joel would get very angry about what Ellie had done, and would feel betrayed, and it might jeopardize his relationship with Ellie, and they didn't want that to happen.

The dream moved on to them having breakfast, with Joel cheerfully talking about going to meet up with the Fireflies, while Tess and Ellie were a bit tense but trying to pretend they weren't. Then I (as Ellie) had a conscious thought like, "Well, hang on, don't do anything just yet, because now everything's going to be different, so I need to write what's going to happen next, since we're not going to do that whole level with the resort in the snow."

And that thought was too fourth-wall-breaking, and so I woke up.

[quokkacore]

phenomena | s.jn

summary: the majority of your adult life you’ve been practically married to logic and science. until your superiors at the FBI assign you to work with special agent johnny suh on the so-called x-files project—cases that were never solved due to unexplained phenomena. as time goes by, and you chase case after case, you find yourself drifting further from logic… and closer to johnny. (part of the 90s love collab)

pairing: conspiracytheorist!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: x-files!au (with johnny as fox mulder and reader as dana scully), fbiagents!au, coworkers-to-lovers, slow burn, sci-fi, angst, fluff, comedy, crack-ish at times, fakmarriage!au at the end

warnings: language, murder, eating, blood, general violence, police presence (txf is fbi level copaganda but oh well), johnny is a low key dick initially, sexual references, general american ignorance, implied sexual harrassment in the workplace, mental hospitals, reader witnesses a distressing panic attack, guns, body image, referenced child/animal abuse, repressed memories, mentions of anti-semitism & nazism, christian allusions, occultism, mild gore, slight body horror, some 90s pop culture references, i am not !!! an fbi agent so there may be some inconsistencies, suggestive content but no actual smut, Karens being thirsty for johnny, johnny is a Single Man and is Kind of Gross, both reader and johnny get knocked unconscious Several Times

song recs: gorillaz - dirty harry // john mellencamp - martha say // elton john - whitewash county // arctic monkeys - all my own stunts // kesha - spaceship // the cranberries - dreams // exo - oasis // the cure - friday, i'm in love // billy joel - we didn't start the fire // david bowie - starman // phoebe bridgers - chinese satellite // tom petty - wildflowers // selena - bidi bidi bom bom // soda stereo - persiana americana // bruce springsteen - dancing in the dark // the cranberries - linger // bruce springsteen - human touch // r.e.m - it's the end of the world as we know it (and i feel fine) // david bowie - heroes (or just listen to the playlist i made instead)

word count: 34.3k (YOWZA u should prob read this on a browser)

a/n: a fic this long......never again

X-FILE 62-J: THE PINEWOOD PATTERN

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—08:00 hours, Monday, March 16th, 1992

The morning you met Johnny Suh, his glasses were crooked. It was two years after you'd started working for the FBI, and you were 28 years old. 

You'd spoken to your Division Chief—an older, balding man named Carson Brooks—the afternoon prior, just before you left home. He, along with two other men had asked you about the man in question. 

"Agent L/N, tell me. What do you know about an agent named John Suh?” 

You had furrowed your eyebrow, staring up at him. “John Suh? He had quite the reputation at the academy. Let's see… Oxford educated psychologist. He wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult… helped the FBI catch Ezekiel Braun in 1988. He’s generally considered to be the best analyst of the violent crimes division. I’ve never met him personally. There’s a nickname for him around the division, though. They called him that in the academy, too." You had to hold back a chuckle, "Spooky Suh."

One of the men next to him nodded—a senior officer whose name you couldn't quite remember—before leaning forward. “It has come to our attention that he’s devoted himself to a project outside of the bureau mainstream. Agent L/N, are you familiar with the so-called X-Files project?”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, trying to recall where you’d heard the name. “From what I understand,” You said, looking up at the man, “They’re cases that are related to unexplained phenomena.”

Your division chief straightened his glasses. “Agent L/N, we’d like for you to assist Suh on these files. You are to write field reports and assess the validity of his work.”

You blinked, not letting your face crack. “...Am I to understand you want me to debunk the X-Files project, sir?”

Your eyes scanned the room. So far, the third man, the one smoking the cigarette had been the only one to not speak.

“Agent L/N,” Your division chief replied with a pursed smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, “We expect you to make the proper scientific analyses required for these cases. We trust you won’t disappoint us and will be looking forward to seeing your reports. You are to meet with Agent Suh tomorrow morning.”

That had been the day before. Now, here you were, on your way down to the basement, which was apparently John Suh's natural habitat within the Bureau headquarters. The lighting was relatively low in the hallways, shelves upon shelves of cardboard archive boxes seemingly closing you in. When you finally reached the office door at the end of the hall, you rapped your knuckles against the wood twice.

“Sorry, no one down here except for the FBI’s most unwanted!” A deep, sardonic toned voice lamented. You made an amused face to yourself, before quickly composing yourself. 

Professionalism above all else, Y/N. First impressions matter.

So you took a deep breath before opening the door slowly. Your eyes scanned the room, widening slightly despite your mantras of professionalism. The man had his back to you, so he didn’t catch it, thankfully. He was too busy studying photographic slides on a lightbox on his desk, hunched over in concentration. 

But amongst those metal filing cabinets that were all that same atrocious shade of gray, the entire room was pretty much a mess—papers scattered across the desk and pictures tacked to the walls haphazardly to the point where it was hard to tell what color the wall he was sitting in front of was. Among other things, you caught newspaper clippings, pictures of bright beams of light igniting the night sky, a diagram of the human skeleton, and in the middle, a large poster. On it, a large UFO was hovering above a pine forest skyline, the words “I WANT TO BELIEVE” printed in bold, white letters across the bottom.

The man in question turned in his swivel chair to face you. You took note of the crooked glasses propped up onto his round nose, wide eyes studying you up and down. The sleeves of his white button up were rolled up to his elbows, and his tie, just like his glasses, was crooked. Still, you mustered a curt smile, urging yourself to remain professional in spite of how handsome he was.     

"Agent Suh," You declared, holding out your hand, "I’m Y/N L/N. I've been assigned to work with you."

John shook your hand, eyeing you somewhat skeptically. "Agent L/N. I've heard a lot of things. So, who did you piss off to get stuck with this old nut?"

"Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you. Division chief Brooks has asked me to do an evaluation of your work ethic and the overall project, I’m hoping we can work well together."

He pursed his lips, obviously trying to hold back a laugh. Finally, he broke into a grin. "So, they want you to babysit."

You bit back a huff as he turned to look back at his slides. Well, yes, he was right in a way, but you weren't going to admit it. Not with the slightly condescending tone he'd taken with you. Running your tongue against your front teeth in annoyance, you did your best to remain cordial. You plastered your polite smile back onto your face and crossed your arms.

"If you have any doubt about my credentials—”

“You’re a medical doctor,” He said, pulling out a folder with a clear plastic front, “You teach at the academy, did your undergraduate degree in physics…”

He looked at the blue folder in his hands. “Einstein’s Twin Paradox: A new interpretation. Y/N L/N’s senior thesis, now there’s a credential: rewriting Einstein.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you bother to read it?” Your tone had a dangerous roll to it. Already you were starting to doubt how much you would enjoy this. 

“I did!” He stood up from the swivel chair, revealing to you just how tall he was. As he walked to one of the gray filing cabinets on the other side of the room, he turned his head and flashed you a crooked smile. “I really liked it, actually. It’s just in my line of work, the laws of physics don’t seem to apply.”

John walked back over to his desk, picking up some of the slides on the lightbox and popping them into a slide projector a few feet away. You stepped out of his way as he made his way to the light switch next to the door, engulfing the room in darkness except for the lightbox, which gave the room a dim, industrial white glow. Turning back to the projector, he pressed the on button, before he looked back at you. His face had turned serious, wide eyes peering at you in the dark.

“Maybe I can get your medical opinion on this.”

Turning your head to the first slide, your eyes settled on the body of a young woman lying amongst old leaves. She was in a white nightgown smudged in dirt, and her arms were spread out as if she were waiting for someone to embrace her.

“Oregon female,” John said, “Aged 21. No known cause of death. Autopsy tells us jack.”

He changed slides, and the image projected on the wall changed to a close up of skin, two small red dots puckered up about a few centimeters away from each other. “However, these were found on her lower back. Doctor L/N, can you ID these marks?”

Walking closer to the projection on the wall, you sighed softly in thought. “Needle punctures, maybe?” You asked, “An animal bite? Electrocution?” 

“The coroner wasn’t able to ID them either.” He pressed a button on the projector, and it whirred as it changed slides. This time, it was a figure of a chemical composition. You furrowed your eyebrow. 

“This was found in the surrounding tissue. How’s your chemistry?” He asked, sounding amused. You glanced at him in dislike, then at the composition, racking your head at the sight of so many cyclohexanes. 

“It’s organic… Is it some kind of synthetic protein?”

He didn’t answer, and your mouth fell open in confusion, shaking your head. “I… don’t know, what is it?”

John laughed. “Beats me! I’ve never seen it either. But it’s also been found in Amaranth, South Dakota…” He clicked the button on the projector. It changed to an image of a middle aged man laying face down in a ditch. He did it again, and a younger man appeared strewn in the middle of the desert, eyes glazed open. “...And again, in Verona, Nevada.”

“Do you have any theories?” You asked, squinting as to avoid looking at the glare of the projector, and instead stare at him. He made his way closer to you. The light of the projection caused the image to warp and distort, projected onto the right side of his face. 

“Oh, I have plenty of theories. What I want to know is why it’s bureau policy to claim these as unexplained phenomena when there’s clearly a pattern here.”

He sighed, before stepping closer to you. He wasn’t necessarily invading your personal space. But from this proximity, caught in the light of the projector you could make out the soft flecks of amber in his brown eyes, the soft curve of his lips. “So, doc,” He murmured, voice low and raspy, “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

Oh boy, you thought, here we go. 

“Logically, I would have to say no. The energy capabilities required to travel through space, as well as the technology you're implying would exceed a spacecraft's—”

"Conventional wisdom," He said, raising his eyebrows. He crossed his arms, pointing at the projection. "Do you know that this girl in Oregon is the fourth person in her graduating class to pass away under suspicious circumstances?" 

 He shifted his weight to lean on one leg. “When there’s no logic, and there’s no convention, is it such a crime to turn to the fantastic for explanations?”

 You frowned. “She had to have died from something. Whether it was natural, then it’s possible the medical examiner missed something. If she was murdered, then maybe it was a cover-up, or a sloppy investigation.” 

Leaning your head forward towards him, you put your hands on your hips. “What I find fantastic is the idea that you would be willing to look anywhere except the realm of science for answers. The answers are there, you just have to be willing to look for them.”

    “And that’s why they put the I in FBI,” He quipped, sounding quite amused at his joke. He turned on the overhead lights, then made his way to sit down at his swivel chair. He leaned back against the black cushion. “So, L/N. You, me, a flight to Pinewood, Oregon, bright and early tomorrow at eight AM. How’s that sound?”

 You bit back a smile. John Suh was… quite the character, that was for sure. Smug. Intelligent. Maybe just a tiny bit off his rocker.

But you didn't really have much of a choice, and you were growing curious as well. 

 "Alright,” You conceded, “I’ll bite.”

 John grinned. “Awesome.”

You set your purse down next to the projector, before turning it off. “I’ll be right back,” You told him, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He nodded, turning back to the files next to the lightbox.

 “And John?” You leaned against the doorway, watching as he straightened his posture to look up at you, expectant of your words. His eyes, from behind those crooked, round rimmed glasses, were poised on your frame. 

“Yes?”

“Your glasses are crooked.” You turned to exit, smiling to yourself when you heard him move, and softly mumble, “Oh, shit.”

PINEWOOD, OREGON—11:32 hours, Tuesday, March 17th, 1992

The plane touched down with only the slightest bit of turbulence. John Suh was sitting right next to you, snoring softly as you pored over the four different medical reports. The reports of the first three victims—Kaya Tate, Jisung Park, and Alex Gallagher—were basically the same word for word, other than specific physical details of the victims, like hair color, height and weight. All of them were found in the woods and were estimated to have died somewhere between one and four in the morning. Possible causes of death included exposure and cardiac arrest, but there wasn’t enough evidence to list anything. The oddest part was that of the three of them, all of their pupils were shrunken. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

 When a person dies, what occurs next is called primary flaccidity. In this state, all of the muscles relax—their head might fall back as the neck loses strength, the jaw falls open, fingers loosen their grip. And the pupils should dilate. But here, they weren’t. Not in the slightest.

You frowned, looking over the first three reports again. There was no sign of red marks anywhere. At the end of all three medical reports, the same signature was seen: Aaron Choi, MD. 

Flicking through the medical report of the fourth victim—Kaya Tate—you looked over the similarities of the other autopsies, and the one unavoidable difference: those damned red markings John had shown you yesterday. With a sigh, you skimmed over the report one last time, before one final difference caught your eye at the very end. This report wasn’t signed by one Aaron Choi, MD. No, it was signed by Hank Rodrigo, MD.

You didn’t have time to think over it much as the pilot made the announcement that the plane would be landing soon. John jumped awake at the sound of his voice. His eyes cracked open, and he frowned as if he were upset at being woken up. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” You greeted when he gave you a sideways glance. 

“And here I was, hoping for a kiss to break the spell.” He laughed sleepily, but you frowned as you pulled the reports off of the tray. You didn’t answer as you put them away and put the tray back up in preparation for the landing.

John stretched his back, inhaling deeply before staring at you awkwardly. “...Sorry. I’m being inappropriate.”

You shook your head, but then smiled. “Thank you for apologizing. Some guys at the bureau can be real creeps.”

He frowned. “...You’re trained in self defense at the academy for a reason, y’know.”

Rolling your eyes, you zipped up your bag. Still, you couldn’t let go of the smile on your face. Still, you put some sarcasm into your tone when you next spoke. “Of course I am.”

When the plane landed, you picked up the rental car the bureau had provided, and put your suitcases in the trunk before getting in. John drove, popping in a cassette of his that played some rock song you didn’t know the name of. 

Martha say she don't need no stinking man making no decisions for her

She don't need his money, she don't need him between the sheets

She ain't gonna sleep on the edge of the bed for no stinking man...

“Kaya Tate’s medical report was signed by a different examiner,” You pointed out, even though you knew that he’d already realized that.

“And there it is,” He said, not taking his eyes off of the road. “Those marks are pretty hard to miss. If they all had similar circumstances in the autopsy, who’s to say the first three kids didn’t have the same markings? And why would Doctor Choi avoid putting that in the reports?”

For a moment, he looked at you, and raised an eyebrow. You mirrored his expression at his implication. “So, you think the medical examiner has something to do with the murders.”

“Maybe?” He glanced briefly in the rearview mirror. “He’s a person of interest. Not necessarily a suspect. I’ve arranged to exhume Alex Gallagher’s body. Maybe we can come to some conclusion of our own—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the song from his cassette distorting, static blaring in between the music and the sound of the vocalist’s voice.

At first, you thought it was something to do with the cassette… until the windows started rolling up and down of their own accord, and the lights on the dashboard started to flicker. You felt the car even swerve slightly, despite John’s firm hands on the wheel.

Within a matter of seconds he managed to pull over and put the car in park. As soon as it had started, it was over, but as John turned the motor off, he met your eyes. He looked just as perplexed as you did. 

“What just happened?”

He didn't answer, unbuckling his seat belt. As he got out of the car, you did the same thing, wondering what kind of failure could cause a car to go haywire like that. 

Wordlessly, you watched as John took a good, long look at his watch, before walking over to the trunk and popping it up. From his suitcase, he pulled out a can of spray paint. He pulled the cap off of it and leaned over, aiming at the asphalt. You raised your eyebrows.

"What are you—" 

The sound of the paint can interrupted your words. You watched as he sprayed a big X on the street, right in front of where he was standing. Your mouth remained slightly open, unsure of what to say. When he stood up straight, he placed the can back in his suitcase, and looked up at you. Slamming the trunk shut, the both of you exchanged stares: his blank as if vandalizing forest streets were a part of his day to day life, and yours somewhat perplexed. 

When the two of you got back into the car, it turned on with no issue. John's cassette started up again on the same song. Again, you exchanged a wordless stare, the both of you now equally unsure.

“Welcome to the Twilight Zone,” John muttered, putting the car in drive. You didn’t reply.

 Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,

Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha...

Ten minutes later the two of you rolled into the cemetery. It was an uphill slope, a small field atop it, connecting to the woods. John drove until a small, yellow bulldozer caught your eye and you pointed it out. He parked as close as the road permitted, and the two of you exited the car, ready to head up the hill.

As the two of you pulled out your FBI badges, an officer came running up to you. He darted between tombstones and stopped in front of you, pursing his lips awkwardly. You both help up your badges. "Special agents Y/N L/N and John Suh," You said.

The officer nodded sheepishly. He seemed young and rather inexperienced. "Officer Mitch Swenson. The chief couldn't be here right now, ma'am."

"Oh?" John continued walking towards the grave, which was fully undug. A crew was in the process of using a pulley to lift the coffin out of the ground. "Couldn't, or didn't want to? He didn't seem very happy when I contacted him on the phone. Didn't even tell me his name."

Officer Swenson looked down. "I'm sorry to say that he's opposed to this intervention, sir."

"Unfortunately," You told him, "After so many unexplained deaths, we're obligated to involve ourselves. If he has an issue with our jurisdiction then he can take it up with—"

A loud snapping noise stopped you in your tracks, and your head turned just in time to see the ropes on the pulley snap, dropping the coffin. It quickly began tumbling downhill, towards you. You barely had time to step back. Before you could be trampled by a goddamn coffin on what was quickly becoming one of the strangest days of your life, you felt a strong hand grip your forearm and yank you back harshly. 

The coffin barrelled right into the back of a tombstone, cracking open ever so slightly. Your back collided with John's chest. Neck craning back to look at him, you realized both your chests were heaving in shock. He was staring at the small opening in the coffin.

You pulled away from him, charging towards the coffin. John and Officer Swenson did the same, as well as some from the lifting crew.

As soon as you got within five feet of the coffin, a putrid odor hit your nose and seemed to hit everyone else's. John's hand went to cover his nose. Officer Swenson turned green. You held back a gag.

Still, despite the heinous stench, you leaned forward, trying to get a good look inside. Fully expecting to see a decaying corpse, you squinted, trying to make out the shape of the face.

"Holy shit," You heard the young officer say off to your left. Your eyes widened, just as you made out some features of the cadaver.

"Make sure no one else sees this," John ordered someone, as you made out a snout and very thin arms. As your eyes widened, John turned to you. You turned your head to him, and he flashed you an awkward grin.

"...I'm guessing he was no student athlete," He joked, scratching the back of his head. You shook your head in disbelief, face frozen in shock.

"I… is that a—?"

CORONER'S OFFICE, PINEWOOD, OREGON — 14:48 hours, Tuesday, March 17th, 1992

"A chimpanzee."

You didn't give John's unsatisfied tone much of a second thought, continuing to ensure you had everything ready for your analysis.

"You think it's a chimpanzee," John said again a few seconds later, snapping a picture of the body, which was spread out on a metal table. 

"Or an orangutan," You replied, not looking up from your tools. Pulling out your tape recorder, you finally met his eyes. "I was thinking it might even be a bonobo, but it's too big. Mammalian, that's for sure."

"Y/N, we're in Oregon! Where would someone get a monkey—why would someone put a monkey in some dead kid's coffin?"

You shook your head. "John, you can't possibly think this is anything other than a sick joke, can you?"

He huffed, too engrossed in taking pictures of the body. He looked like he had just discovered sliced bread.

"This is amazing. It—it's unprecedented… I want a full report," He demanded, "Toxicology, x-rays, tissue samples, genetic testing, the works. We can get those tissue samples and x-rays done now, everything else we take back to DC." 

You laid a measuring tape next to the subject's body, before putting your hands on your hips. 

"You’re kidding," You said, glaring at him from the other side of the table, "Try telling Alex Gallagher's family that his body was replaced with an alien. You'd probably lose a few teeth doing it!" 

John lowered his camera, taking a deep breath. He thought for a few seconds before answering. "I'm not crazy, Y/N," He insisted, "I have the same doubts you do." 

Flexing your fingers to see if the surgical gloves fit adequately, you sighed. 

"Please leave for a moment," You mumbled, "I need to record my observations and I can't do that properly if you're flashing that camera in my face and talking about little green men." 

He frowned, not meeting your eyes. He looked like he wanted to protest, but he shook his head to himself as he turned around. Soon, he was out the door. 

During your analysis, you made several observations: the subject was 157 centimeters in length, and weighed 56 pounds. Long limbs and fingers, and large ocular caverns that suggested it belonged to the ape family, as you'd told John minutes ago. It was in an advanced state of decay and desiccation. 

When you turned the subject over, you couldn't help but look at the lower back. Lo and behold, there and ready to give you a headache, were two bumps. They were no longer red, tinged gray, same as the rest of the body, but they were there.

Only when the x-rays finally developed two hours later did you discover the cherry on top: a small metallic implant in the subject's nasal cavity, embedded in the skin, which was extracted and placed in a small glass vial. The vial was placed in your blazer pocket, which you'd removed to put on the PPE gown. 

When you were finally finished with the report, you put your blazer back on and discarded the PPE and surgical gloves. All you'd managed to do was give yourself a migraine at all of the oddities piling up in this case. When you got back to DC? A bubble bath was in order. With a very, very large glass of wine.

As you approached the door to the lobby, the voices of two men arguing got louder and louder. Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the feeling of your head pounding. One sounded angrier, the other significantly calmer. When your hand was on the knob, you realized who the calmer voice belonged to.

"Shit," You whispered to yourself, flinging open the door. A middle aged man yelling at John—who looked very blasé about the whole situation—was waving his finger in his face. Behind him stood Officer Swenson, another officer, and a young girl dressed in an oversized windbreaker and jeans, who looked like she wanted to evaporate into thin air. 

"You people think you can march in here and do whatever you want," The man growled, "I don't see why—"

"What's going on here?" You asked, stepping between the man and John. The man scoffed at you, eyeing you up and down. 

“Who are you?”

You pulled out your badge and flashed it to him. His scowl deepened. “Special Agent Y/N L/N, FBI. I’m Agent Suh's partner for this investigation. Now, what is going on? And who are you?”

The man’s face twisted in disdain at your authoritative tone. “I’m Doctor Aaron Choi, the county medical examiner. Now, the audacity of you and your partner—”

“Dad, please,” The girl exclaimed, sounding embarrassed, “Let’s just go home!”

 The man waved a hand in her direction, tone dismissive and angry. “Lia, be quiet. I’m talking. The audacity you two have to come here and interrupt our procedures—”

“Doctor Choi, this is the fourth unexplained death of a student from the Pinewood High class of ‘89,” John pointed out, “After the county was unable to come up with any conclusive evidence, the FBI was forced to become involved. I take it you weren’t informed of the exhumation and the analysis of Alex Gallagher’s body?”

Doctor Choi shook his head. “I’ve been away with my family. We just got back.”

That explains the different medical examiner on the latest autopsy, you realized. 

“Doctor Choi, I’m sorry you feel that way,” You said, “But it’s our obligation to come and investigate. Now, I’m sorry, but it’s getting late, and we have to get going. I can give you my cell phone number if it were to make you more comfortable, but—”

“No. That’s quite enough,” He snapped. He turned to the young girl, nodding his head at the door. “Lia, let’s go.”

The girl sighed, and met your eyes before she turned to follow after him. She looked desperate; you assumed it was because of the scene her father had caused. The two officers followed after them.

As the two of you watched them leave, you turned to John. He simply shrugged, looking done with the whole situation. “Talk about a warm welcome,” He grumbled. You glared at him. 

“Let’s just go,” You huffed, rubbing at a spot above your eyebrow, “I still need to get started on this report.”

The two of you exited the building, and John explained that tomorrow, he’d arranged a visit to a mental institution in the town over. That there were two more students of the class of ‘89 were staying. Both of them were reportedly a part of Alex Gallagher’s circle of friends.

 In your pocket, the vial holding the metal implant seemed heavier than it had been when you first extracted it.

ALOYSIUS GRANT MENTAL INSTITUTION, CRESTHILL, OREGON—10:47 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

The wing where Chenle Zhong and Nancy Goldstein were staying was relatively quiet. As the nurse explained their circumstances, Nancy remained glued to a book in her wheelchair. Next to her in his bed, Chenle lay perfectly still, lips parted slightly, eyes wide and unmoving. 

You were informed that Nancy had developed delusions and become extremely paranoid as a result of post-traumatic stress. Chenle was living through something called a living coma. He never moved, never spoke. The only indication you saw that he was still alive was the constant rise and fall of his chest. Both of them had been in an automotive crash in the autumn of 1989, and had been like this ever since. 

“Nancy,” The nurse said softly, “You have guests, can they speak with you?”

Nancy lifted her head, “I can’t,” She answered, shaking her head. “I’m reading to Lele right now.”

“Does… does he like it when you read to him?” John asked, and she nodded.

“It calms him down,” She said, “It distracts him from everything.”

You looked down, thinking about her words and what she must have gone through—Chenle as well. At the feet of Chenle’s bed, you noticed odd specks of… ash? It was sprinkled sparsely in front of the bed, on what was a seemingly pristine floor.

You wanted to pick it up, but didn’t want the nurse looking at you strangely. So you turned your attention back to the conversation between John and the nurse. He lowered his voice and leaned in towards her, as if he didn’t want Nancy to hear. “Would it be possible for us to run some medical tests on Ms. Goldstein?”

The thing was that Nancy did hear, and at the mention of medical tests, her large eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she started to tremble in the wheelchair. “N-no tests,” She pleaded, before throwing her book to the side and raising her voice, "No tests! You can't take me there again!"

She began to thrash in the wheelchair, hyperventilating and begging in between breaths to not go anywhere. She threw herself out of the wheelchair but was unable to stand, and instead remained on the floor, crying. 

"Nancy, sweetie, you're going to be fine," The nurse said gently, leaning down to placate the poor girl who was shaking her head. She looked up at the both of you. "Can you help me please?" 

John leaned down to gently assist the nurse in helping Nancy up, and you picked up the wheelchair, which had fallen onto its side. You gripped one of the back handles of the chair to steady it. Your other hand smudged along the ground to try and pick up some of the powder. As the pair helped her sit down, your eyes caught something. 

Nancy's shirt had ridden up during the ordeal, and there, along the small of her back, you saw them. The same marks that Kaya Tate, Jisung Park, and Alex Gallagher had. 

When Nancy refused to calm down, wailing and begging not to be taken back to wherever she thought you and John wanted to take her, the nurse ushered you out.

 "I'm sorry," She told you, "But you're upsetting my patients. If you absolutely need to come back, then do it some other day when she's calmed down." 

The two of you set off towards the exit down the stairs, your heels click-clacking quickly along the floor as you walked in front of John. 

He held open the exit door for you, and as soon as you were out the door and headed toward the parking lot, you whirled on him. 

"How did you know she would have those marks?" You asked, almost angry at him. John shrugged. 

"A hunch," Was all he answered.

"Dammit, Suh, cut the crap. What the hell is going on here?"

"What, so you can go off and write it in your little reports?" He fired back, raising his voice at you for the first time. Your head snapped back at the sudden disdain in his voice.

"I'm here to solve this case just the same as you are," You growled, "Now tell me the truth. I think I'm entitled to it."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, scowling at you. He leaned closer to you and lowered his voice. "You want my honest opinion? Fine. I think those kids have been abducted by an alien force. I think that they run tests on those kids, which is why Nancy Goldstein freaked out, and why Alex's body and hers have those markings. That's what I think."

You tapped your heel along the sidewalk in frustration and thought. "John, do you realize how insane that sounds? I—Why, there's nothing to substantiate—"

"Nothing scientific to substantiate," He corrected.

"Science is all there is, John!" You shook your head. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The  both of you knew that this conversation would lead nowhere. Looking down, you remembered the ash smudged onto the palm of your hand. 

"Look," You said, quieter now. "This was on the floor around Chenle Zhong's bed."

"'S that… ash?"

You nodded. "I know what you think, John. Let me tell you what I think. I think those kids might be involved in some sort of sacrifice of some sort. Think about it, they're always called into the woods. The medical examiner doesn't want us looking at the bodies. And now, ash."

John's eyes darted back and forth, considering the options. He walked over to the car, unlocking it so the both of you could enter. 

"We can head into the woods tonight," He offered finally. "That way, we can both look into our own hypotheses."

"Sounds good to me," You answered, "Tonight."

THE WOODS, PINEWOOD, OREGON—20:26 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

A few hours after sundown, the two of you drove to the edge of the woods, armed with flashlights and your handguns. You'd tied your hair back and changed into a dark blue windbreaker, along with sweatpants and running shoes. It was a bit windy, and you could see storm clouds rolling in.

"Stay close by," You'd told John. "And be quiet."

"Yes, mom," He sighed. You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to punch him in the arm. 

Once the two of you were out of the car, you split up, trying to stay within earshot of his footsteps. You spent about ten minutes wandering around, flashing your light around, taking slow steps as you scrounged for any hints. 

Above you, thunder rumbled, the occasional strike of lightning lighting up the sky for milliseconds. Leaning your head forward, you squinted in the dark. No way. 

The whole ground around you was covered in ash. If not the exact same ash as what was in front of Chenle's bed, it was very similar—sprinkled on top of the leaves and dirt. As you kneeled down to pick some up, your eyes widened at the same texture and pigment as the one of today. 

"What the fuck," You muttered under your breath, mind racing a mile a minute. These woods were creepy enough without the implication of a ritualistic cult, or close encounters of the third kind, or whatever John believed was happening. But now you had the possibility of a connection between these woods and two seriously disturbed kids.

A sudden mechanical rumbling made you snap your head up. You squinted, lifting your other hand to shield your eyes from the sudden brightness that lit up the trees. 

"John?" You asked when you heard footsteps. Your heart rate began to speed up, hand reaching for the gun tucked into your waistband. 

When you realized that the sound was coming from the direction of the light, you called his name out again. "John?"

A tall figure emerged from the light, and you soon realized what was pointed at you—a shotgun. Definitely not John Suh.

Not hesitating, you pulled out your gun. "Special agent Y/N L/N, FBI! Identify yourself!"

The figure only stopped until it was about ten feet away. You squinted, making out some familiar features. Surprisingly, you realized it was the officer who had been at the coroner's office with Doctor Choi. 

John came stumbling up to you, chest heaving. "Chief!" He sounded strangely enthusiastic. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"You're trespassing on private property," He announced, seemingly unamused by John's tone. 

"We are conducting an investigation," You countered, lowering your gun. 

"You are trespassing," He said adamantly, "Now get out, before I have you both arrested."

John glanced at you momentarily. You frowned as he shrugged, obviously wanting you to stand down. The staredown continued for a solid ten seconds before you groaned softly. Tucking your gun back into your waistband, you followed the chief out of the woods, right back to your car, which was right next to his.

As John drove away, you watched as the flashing police lights faded into the distance. "What's he doing out here when he's got a whole town to take care of?"

John shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't know," He hummed in that deep voice of his, "But I don't like him one bit."

The two of you drove in relative silence after that. The storm finally came down, drops of rain cascading angrily onto the windshield. Thunder rolled overhead, and the lightning grew bright.

In the dim light, your eyes turned to watch John, hoping he wouldn't take notice. You watched him alternate his eyes between the road ahead and the rearview mirror every few seconds. Your eyes raked over his features—a strong brow bone, a round nose, lips that seemed to curve upwards in a natural smirk.

You looked back up at his eyes, and his own gaze glanced at the watch on his wrist before returning to the road.

"You're staring," He said, sounding like he’d caught you with a hand in the cookie jar. You felt the scoff leave your lips before you could catch it, your cheeks heating up.

"I am not—"

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, far brighter than any of the other strikes. Then, an odd sensation filled your body: for the briefest of moments you felt absolutely weightless, unable to feel the carseat beneath you. Then a moment later when the light faded, and the feeling disappeared.

The car rolled to a stop, the engine’s rumble dying. You frowned even though you were glad that you’d have a chance to change the subject. “What happened?”

Johnny looked at the lights on the dashboard, and pressed on the accelerator tentatively a few times. He raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “Uh… we lost power.”

He seemed calm enough. Until he glanced at his watch again. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he let out a single, excited laugh. “No fucking way,” He murmured, rushing to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“Uh, John, where are you g—”

He was out of the car before you could finish your sentence, heading into the downpour. You groaned, unbuckling hastily and following him. Already, he was drenched, and within seconds you were too. He was walking towards something on the road, a few feet in front of the car. When he turned to look back at you, he looked like a preschooler who had just discovered Sesame Street. His fists pumped into the air, his eyes squeezed shut and he began to jump up and down.

“Fuckin’—I—WOO! WOO HOO!”

“For the love of god,” You grumbled, standing right next to him despite his loud cheering, you tried your hardest to make out what had gotten him so excited. When the next flash of lightning lit up the street, plus the lights of the car helping illuminate the road, you saw it: a big, bright, neon X. Almost the exact same place the car had started acting strange yesterday.

“We lost time!” He yelled over the sound of the downpour. "I looked at my watch before the flash! It was 9:02 then, now it’s 9:13! That’s eleven minutes—GONE!”

You shook your head, stepping away. You threw up your hands in confusion. “What—John, that’s not possible! You’re saying time disappeared, time can’t—it can’t just disappear! That’s not just crazy, it’s—i-it’s a universal invariant! It’s impossible!”

John shook his head at you, eyes wide in wonder. Right before he started walking back to the car, he let out one last gleeful laugh. “Not in this zip code!”

Much to your displeasure, your headache returned soon after. You were more than content to let John ramble on while you zoned out, rubbing your forehead. What little you picked up was that people who claimed to be abductees always mentioned a bright flash of light and losing time, anywhere from five minutes to several hours.

You weren’t sure what to think at this point. You had half a mind to drive John to the Aloysius Grant Mental Institution and leave him there with Chenle and Nancy.

When you got back to the hotel, you ran straight to your room. When you tried flickering on the light, you found that it wouldn’t turn on. With a sigh, you realized the storm had to have blown the power out. Peeling off your wet clothes before you did anything else, you stripped to your underwear before pulling on your bathrobe. Shivering, you scrounged in the darkness of the room for anything, a flashlight, some candles.

Surprisingly, they did have a candle, a holder and some matches. As you lit it, and went over your bedtime routine (yes, you were a grown woman going to bed at 9:30 PM, you were tired), you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling settling in your stomach. Everything felt so off here, and there were so many things you couldn’t explain.

As much as John wanted to convince you, he couldn’t explain them either. The whole situation felt bizarre in a dreadful way. As you marched into the bathroom for a quick shower, you tried to reassure yourself everything would connect eventually.

When you took off the bathrobe, your hand went to rub at your lower back. The stiff mattress wasn’t doing you any favors. You let your eyes flutter shut, fingers rubbing at the muscle below your skin.

Until your fingers brushed over something that you knew hadn’t been there before. Your eyes snapped open, and you turned your back to the mirror, craning your neck to see. Your fingers ached to touch the spot again, but in your sudden alarm, your fingers began to shake.

There. At the small of your back, just above the waistband of your underwear, there they were. Two bumps. Just like Nancy’s. Just like Alex’s. Just like Kaya’s.

You didn’t know what overtook you. All of a sudden, you were putting your bathrobe back on and strutting stiffly out of your room. Before you knew it, you were knocking insistently on John’s door.

You didn’t stop until a very confused looking John opened up, holding a candle. “I—”

“I need to show you something,” You said shakily. His demeanor changed instantly when he saw your frantic state. He nodded wordlessly, widening the door and stepping to the side. Once the door was closed, you faced him, before untying the robe. His eyes widened slightly despite your shaking hands, and the tips of his ears turned red.

“Woah, at least take me out to dinner first—”

“Johnny, shut up!”

He froze at your tone, your slip up—calling him Johnny instead of John. You were too distressed to care, tossing the robe to the floor before turning, trying to poke at the marks on your back.

“What are they?” You asked, and John reached out a hand as if to placate you.

“Hey, hey,” He murmured, “Deep breaths. Can I get a closer look?”

Nodding, and trying to do what he said, you let him step closer, before kneeling. Tentatively, he ghosted a hand over the marks. You tried to ignore the goosebumps, shivering from what you assumed was the cold.

“What are they?” You repeated. “John—”

He spun you around, putting a gentle hand on your hip. You peered down at him, panting softly. “It’s okay,” He said softly, “They’re just mosquito bites.”

Your eyes fluttered shut in relief, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady your wobbling knees. “You’re sure?” You asked, looking down at him.

He nodded, amber eyes staring up at you. You were suddenly hyper aware of his hand on your hip, unable to break his gaze. He cleared his throat, standing up but not stepping away from you. “Yeah, I got some out there too. I’m positive.”

You put the bathrobe back on, then crossed your arms. “I need to sit down,” You mumbled. He gestured to his bed, sitting on the chair next to it. You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to impose. He shook his head, setting down the candle on the table.

“You’re shaking,” He said, “Go ahead.”

Inhaling deeply, you tried to compose yourself. Your hand rubbed at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling tense. You chewed on your lip, wondering if you should ask the question itching to come out.

“John?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. He nodded, eyes earnest.

“Yeah?”

“How did you… Why are you so interested in this stuff?”

His eyes lowered, rubbing his palms together slowly. He took a deep breath, resting his elbows on his thighs. Finally, he sighed.

“I was twelve when it happened,” He whispered. His gaze turned solemn, almost angry. “My little sister, Maggie, went missing in the middle of the night. Just… disappeared, like she vanished into thin air. No note, no phone calls, no discernible trail or evidence at all. Gone, just like that. How does an eight year old girl disappear without a trace?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, not answering. Outside, the rain had stopped, but John’s eyes were a storm of their own, several emotions swimming around in pools of golden brown.

“It tore my family apart. My parents got divorced, everyone else refused to talk about it. There weren’t any facts to confront, nothing to give anyone closure, and the search just stopped.”

“What did you do?” You asked softly. He shrugged, pursing his lips.

“Eventually, I ran away to England. Came back, got recruited by the bureau.” He offered a sardonic smile, no joy behind it. “Apparently, I have a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases. My success allowed me a certain amount of freedom to pursue my own interests. That’s when I found the x-files.”

“On accident?” You leaned to lay down on your side, propping your head up with one hand. He nodded.

“At first, it looked like a dump for UFO sightings, cryptids, alien abductions. Real Hollywood kind of stuff. But… I was fascinated by it all, I read all the cases I could get my hands on. Hundreds of them, Y/N. All the paranormal phenomena, the occult, and then…” He sighed, lowering his head.

“What?” You leaned toward him, trying to read his face in the dark.

“There’s… classified government information I’ve been trying to get my hands on. Someone keeps blocking my access.” He looked to the side, palms still rubbing together. “The only reason I’ve been allowed to continue my work is because I've made connections in congress.”

You shook your head, “I don’t understand, are they afraid you’ll leak this information?”

When he met your gaze, the anger had returned, now far less subdued. “You’re a part of that agenda,” He murmured, “You would know.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly, and you shook your head before scooching closer to him. “I’m not a part of any agenda,” You answered. “You need to trust me.”

He sighed, before standing up to move onto your bed, leaning very close to you. The usually playful glow in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. “I’m telling you this, Y/N, because you need to know. In my... research, I’ve worked very closely with a man named Hans Kruger. He’s taken me through deep regression hypnosis, and through my repressed memories I’ve been able to return to that night my sister disappeared. I remember a very bright light outside and a presence in the room, and the sensation of being paralyzed, unable to answer her cries for help. Listen to me, Y/N, this thing exists.”

“But how do you know—”

“The government knows! And I gotta know what they’re protecting.” He leaned even closer to you, face inches away from yours. “Nothing else matters to me, and this is as close as I’ve ever—”

   The ringing of the telephone made the both of you jump away from each other, and John stood to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

   He made a face as the person on the other side answered. “What? Who is this? Who is—”

   Pulling the phone away from his ear, he looked at you. He seemed confused, alarmed. “That was a woman,” He said, putting the phone back on the housing, “Who told me that Nancy Goldstein is dead.”

 You frowned. “The girl in the wheelchair?”

 HIGHWAY 227, PINEWOOD, OREGON—23:11 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

 Quickly, the two of you dressed. The crash wasn’t hard to find in such a small town. Surrounded by witnesses and two police cars, a large semi truck was stopped in the middle of the road. Once there you produced your badges to get past the police cars. John went off to ask one of the cops questions about the accident, and you walked over to the body, which was draped over with a white cloth.

 Right next to it, a man, who you assumed was the driver, was being questioned. Showing the officer next to the body your badge, you crouched down to peel back the cloth covering the body.     

Poor Nancy Goldstein, wet with rain and blood, lay strewn in the road. A dribble of drying blood was running down her mouth. Her once white and purple polka dotted hospital gown was tinged with red, brown and gray. You sighed in sympathy. But your eyes travelled down at the watch she had on, and the sympathy made way into confusion. The hands had stopped, right at 9:02.

You took a deep breath when you recognized the coincidence. That's all it had to be, right? A coincidence?

 "You said she just ran out in front of you?" The officer speaking to the man asked.

"Yes, officer," He answered, "Just came charging out from the trees and right into the truck."

Nancy Goldstein, running. Not even walking, no, full on running. You stared at the body, eyes travelling to her legs. Somehow, they were specked with flecks of dirt, mud and small wood chips. It was consistent with someone moving through a wet, muddy area while barefoot. You swallowed anxiously, trying to figure out what was going on in this town.

 When you got into the car with John, you raised an eyebrow at him, getting ready to speak. Before you could, however, his cell phone rang. He pulled out the device and answered the call with a tired, "Suh. Who am I speaking to?"

You watched as his face turned confused. "What?"

 You couldn't hear what he was told, but when his face twisted into disbelief, and then anger, you knew it couldn't be anything good. "Of course. We'll be there as soon as possible," He said, tight-lipped.

 When he hung up, he immediately started the car. He didn't meet your eyes. "Fuck!" He growled, causing you to jump.

 "What?" Your eyes widened at his sudden outburst, barely having time to buckle your seatbelt before he sped away. "John, what happened—"

"Fuck if I know!" He snapped at you, before shaking his head and sighing.

 "There was a fire at the hotel." His tone was softer now. Your stomach sank. "Our rooms were the ones that were most affected."

"You've gotta be kidding," You sighed. He didn't answer, simply kept his eyes on the road.Only when the two of you got there did you realize just how bad the situation was. The fire department was there, hosing down the inside of your room. A crowd had come to watch the firemen work.

"There goes my computer!" You groaned. John kicked the car door.

"Fuck! The x-rays and pictures!" He seemed just about ready to explode.

Your eyes drifted back to the blinding, orange glow of the fire, crossing your arms in frustration, exhaustion.

Suddenly, a tap on your shoulder caused you to turn. You were met face to face with a familiar looking young girl in a bright blue denim jacket. She looked just about on the verge of tears.

 "John," You called, not looking away from her. When he saw the girl, he came up to the two of you.

 He raised a finger at her. "You're Do—"

 "My name is Lia Choi," She declared, voice wobbly, "You have to protect me."

 You quickly ushered Lia into the back of the car. When you closed the door, John raised an eyebrow at you. "She might know something," He murmured.

 "I know," You answered. "She seems terrified."

 He nodded. "You hungry?"

  "Um… yeah, why?"

  "I'm starving," He admitted, gnawing on his lips. "Let's get something to eat and question her there."

 "How the hell are you thinking about food at a time like this?"

He raised an eyebrow, making a face. "What, and you aren't?"

You rolled your eyes, but didn't disagree.

 The car ride took about ten minutes, and you pulled into the small diner with little to no issue. By then, it was a little past midnight, so it was starting to empty out. It had started raining again. You sat next to Lia, as she seemed somewhat more intimidated by John. He paid for some burgers and fries for the three of you, and then Lia finally spoke.

"I… There's something in the woods."

You exchanged glances with John, who rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers. "What do you mean, something in the woods, Miss Choi?"

 The young girl shook her head, looking sheepish. "Please, just call me Lia," She said.

 Taking a deep breath, you flashed him a look that said let me try. "Lia, do you know that there's something in the woods, or is it just a feeling?"

 She stared at the table, looking for words. "I've never actually… seen anything. Not really. But I… I have these dreams. They're not like normal dreams, I-I have no idea how to explain it, but they just feel so… wrong. It's like my body's vibrating the entire time, a-and when I wake up, I'm there. In the woods. Every time. They—they've started happening more and more, and I don't know what to do, I-I'm just so—"

 "Woah, slow down there, kid," John said, holding up his hands. She'd started rambling, and it didn't take a genius to say that she was on the verge of tears. His dark eyes looked gentle, sympathetic. "Deep breath, Lia."

She let her eyes close, breathing slowly. "I'm sorry," She mumbled. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

Looking at John again, you spoke up. "We understand," You answered softly, "Can we ask you some more questions?"

 As she nodded, the one waitress working the place, who looked one strong gust of wind from falling over, set down your three plates. Sticking a fry into your mouth once the waitress left, you met eyes with the young girl.

"You said, 'I've never seen anything, not really.' What do you mean by that?"

Lia poked at her fries, not seeming that interested in the food. She pursed her lips, before sighing. "I… We saw something, once. I think. My friends were all out there—celebrating graduation. It was… maybe 11:30? I-I can't really remember. But we saw a bright light, and then this huge thing flew over us. When it was gone… Kaya checked her watch. It couldn't have been more than ten seconds after, but her watch said it was almost 2 AM, and then Chenle checked his watch, and so did Jisung, and… they all said the same thing.

"I didn't think much of it. I tried not to. I thought we just missed the time going by, somehow. But then Nancy and Chenle got into the crash, and then Kaya turned up dead in the woods… Then Jisung, and now Alex…" She shook her head, blinking back tears. "It can't all be a coincidence."

"How old were you when that happened, Lia?"

 "I was 17. I'm turning 21 in June."

John stared at her for a long time. "...And why did you decide to call me when you heard about Nancy's death?"

Oh?

You raised an eyebrow to look at Lia, who looked down. "They called my dad about it, and I know that Nancy's death has to do with whatever's in the woods. M-my dad, he… He keeps telling me he can keep me safe. But I don't think he can."

"So you called us?"

She nodded, not looking up at either of you. John and you exchanged a glance.

"Lia," You asked lowly, "Do you think your father—"

Your words died when blood began to spew from the girl's nose, your eyes widening and John's expression growing alarmed. He reached for the napkins, handing them to you to hand her quickly. Her eyes shut and her brow furrowed, obviously distressed. John pursed his lips.

  "Does this normally h—"

 "Lia Choi."

The three of you turned your heads to see Aaron Choi and the police chief standing next to each other, glaring at you and John.

Dr. Choi walked over to Lia, handing her another napkin. "Sweetheart, come on, let's go home."

John narrowed his eyes. "I don't think she wants to leave."

"I don't give a shit about what you think," The man snapped. He turned back to Lia, "Let's go home. You'll be safe there. Remember, I said that Chief Zhong and I would keep you safe—"

You exchanged a glance with John. You could see the gears turning in his head. Skywalker moment. "You’re Chenle Zhong's father?"

The chief scowled at him. "You stay away from my boy. He has no business in any of this."

Dr. Choi managed to pull away, with minimal protest from Lia. She managed to give the two of you one last apologetic glance before being pushed out the front door by your father.

"You gotta love this place," John grumbled, reaching for Lia's plate, "Every day's like Halloween."

"They know." You were sure of it. "Choi's been hiding evidence from those medical reports, and Zhong might just have enough authority around here to get access to our rooms to set them on fire."

"Why would they want to destroy evidence?" John asked, but it wasn't really a question. It sounded more like a parent trying to get their child to figure out something obvious on a math problem. "What could they possibly want with that corpse?"

You looked down at the table, heart pounding suddenly. When you met his eyes again, they were burning with curiosity and determination.

"Makes you wonder what's in those other two graves, huh?"

PINEWOOD MEMORIAL CEMETERY, PINEWOOD, OREGON—01:26 hours, Thursday, March 19th, 1992

Getting into the cemetery was easy. Finding the graves, with only your flashlights in the pouring rain, was a lot harder. You pored over different headstones for almost forty minutes, until John called your name.

"Did you find them?" You asked, turning to him. He was scowling down at the headstones. You didn't understand why… until you looked down to see the dirt piled up, and the two holes in the ground.

"Empty," He groaned.

"What is going on here?" You cried. John stared at the hole in the ground, before a look of epiphany dawned on his face. He turned to you, slowly.

"I think I know who did it."

You looked to the sides in thought. "Who? The chief?"

John shook his head, mouth tipping open. You leaned forward, hoping to hear his words better over the rain.

He chewed nervously on his bottom lip. "The chief's son."

When the words registered, you leaned away. All the fight in you seemed to deflate, and your face twisted into a confused mess.

"What?"

He nodded, and you raised your eyebrows. "Chenle Zhong? The boy in the hospital. The boy who's been in a goddamn coma since 1989. That Chenle Zhong? He somehow got here, dug up these graves, and is somehow responsible for the murders of four different kids?"

John's eyes fell shut, and he took a deep breath. "Nancy Goldstein was wheelchair bound but ran in front of a car, it's not entirely impossible. All of this fits a profile of alien abduction. She was killed around 9—the same time we lost time in the car."

"A profile." You crossed your arms, trying to stop the shivering racking your body. March showers in the Pacific Northwest—you wouldn’t be surprised if all of this was just a delusion induced by hypothermia.

"Look, something happened during those 10 minutes," He insisted, "Time, as we know it, stopped, and it has something to do with the forest."

You shook your head in disbelief, unable to hold back your shocked sigh. All you could do was stare, watching as John's expression hardened.

"You think I'm crazy," He murmured defeatedly, "Just like everyone else does."

He turned on his heel, starting to walk away, when a soft scoff caused him to turn back. "What?"

You wore a smile of disbelief. "The hands of Nancy Goldstein's watch stopped at 9:02," You admitted, looking up at the sky before meeting his gaze. "I made a mental note of it because of how insane the coincidence was. But…"

"The forest is controlling the kids," John said with a nod. He sounded more hopeful now, as he took a step closer. "It summons them here!"

"A-and the marks are…"

"The remainders of some sort of experiment. They put that weird chemical into the bodies—"

"Which leads to genetic mutations, like the one we saw in Alex Gallagher’s body!"

John nodded, a hopeful grin spreading across his features, the rain causing his hair to fall into his eyes. "And the woods summoned Nancy Goldstein here tonight, but the one who brought her was—"

"Chenle Zhong," You gasped. Meeting eyes with John, the two of you exchanged surprised, awed, slack jawed smiles, before promptly bursting into giggles at how silly it all sounded, the sheer absurdity of it all. Like the plot of some crappy Fox TV show.

"This—Johnny, this is insane!"

"That’s just how all the x-files work!" He exclaimed between laughter, "This isn't even half of it!"

That did it for you. The idea that there had to be something even stranger, something that paled in comparison to this. You had to reach out for his shoulder to stop yourself from falling, bending over and clutching your stomach to the point of tears. John’s laughter never let up either, not until the two of you were panting, out of breath from cackling so hard.

"I can't believe any of this," You sighed, shaking your head once more.

"It doesn't matter. As long as we're on the same page," John said with a shrug, "It'll make things a whole lot easier. Now, let's get back to the car—"

A high pitched scream filled the air, and the two of you locked eyes before darting in its direction.

Right into the forest.

Mud squelched beneath your shoes as the two of you ran. It was damn near impossible to see anything with the rain and the darkness of night, the way your flashlights swung back and forth with your running.

Your light reflected onto a piece of black metal, causing the two of you to slow down. John flashed his own light side to side, before landing on the white door of the car, the crest emblazoned on it: PINEWOOD POLICE DEPARTMENT. You sighed at the revelation, turning slightly.

"Shit," He muttered, "Do you think—?"

"John." You took a step to the side, focusing your light onto something on the ground. "Look."

When he turned his head to look at what you were seeing, you heard him inhale sharply.

Dr. Choi's body lay strewn on the muddy ground, blood streaking down his temple. You couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not.

Another scream pierced the air, the sound distinctly female. You exchanged a brief glance with John, before nodding in the direction the noise came from. "You go! I'll check his vitals."

"Be careful," He warned before darting off. You knelt on the ground, reaching out to feel for a pulse over the carotid artery. You let your eyes fall shut in relief when you found one a few seconds later. All you needed to do now was assess his injury.

But they snapped open when the mud squelched behind you, and when you turned your head, you saw a flash of black and beige. A loud thwack! cracked against the side of your head, and you fell to the ground, vision turning dark.

When you came to, you weren't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been too long. It was still dark, and while the rain had calmed, it wasn't over yet. Sluggishly,  you reached for the flashlight, and struggled to stand.

Stumbling, you tried to surmise where the noise was coming from, but the world felt like it was spinning. You were confused, disoriented, that the sudden brightness knocked you on your ass, quite literally.

Brightness?

White, seemingly industrial light lit up the forest so suddenly that you reeled back in surprise, falling into the mud. You blinked dazedly. If this were a Loony Tunes short, there would be little Tweety birds flying around your head right about now.

Still, you knew you needed to get up. So you did, still stumbling as if someone had spun you around to hit a piñata, and carried forward. The shouting had stopped now.

In the distance, where the light was the brightest, you could hear the shouting. One of the voices was distinctly John's, but as you got closer, it stopped.

And by the time you got into the clearing? The light disappeared, and so did the rain. Gone at the same time.

There were three men standing in the clearing, seemingly in a triangle. John's back was turned to you. In front of him? Someone was lying on the floor (had you not been so dizzy, you would have recognized her as Lia), and…

"Chenle?" The police chief asked, voice shaking. Your eyes turned to the young man, whose dark eyes were wide in confusion and fear. He was barefoot, clad only in a pair of gray sweatpants.

"...Dad?" He asked as Chief Zhong walked to him, before crushing the young man in a hug.

"J-John?" Your voice was small. The man in question turned to you, eyes widening at your state. He stepped towards you, face full of concern. When you buckled, he gripped you by your forearms.

"Y/N, are you alright?"

"Th-there was a light," You murmured, "It was so…"

He nodded, smiling sympathetically. "I know," He said, "But I think you have a concussion."

"Uh…" You stared at him blearily. "...You're really strong."

He held back a snicker. "Am I now?"

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—10:04 hours, Wednesday, March 25th, 1992

After a stop to the emergency room, a minor concussion diagnosis, a flight home, a few days of bed rest and finally that bubble bath (sans the wine, unfortunately), you were finally allowed to present your findings to your superiors, in the report you'd written in the past few days (you were advised to rest over the weekend, and you did just that and wrote the report all Tuesday).

You marched into that office, John already sitting in one of the two seats in front of the desk. He didn't speak while you presented your findings. Again, Chief Brooks was accompanied by the same two men.

"And what of the boy?" Division Chief Brooks asked, "Chenle… Zhang, you said?"

"Zhong," You and John corrected in unison, exchanging a sheepish glance when you both realized what happened.

"He's in custody. So are his father and Doctor Aaron Choi. He claims to not have remembered anything."

"I understand you and Chief Zhong had an exchange in the woods?" The older man asked, staring at John.

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I asked him what the need was to take the Chois to the woods, he seemed desperate—said that if it got his son back, then he'd do it."

"So, what, are we to believe all of this—the abductions and the mutations and the mind control without any concrete evidence?" The second officer asked.

"There was an x-ray of Chenle’s that revealed a small piece of metal lodged in his nose, just like Agent L/N's report mentioned with—"

"The Gallagher boy's implant, yes. But that could be anything, Agent Suh. It hasn't been surgically removed so we can't verify what it is."

John clenched his jaw. "But—"

"Agent Suh, with no evidence of the implant existing we simply cannot continue to waste bureau resources," The chief explained, "The fact of the matter is the original implant, as well as your other evidence, was destroyed in that fire and—"

"What if it wasn't, though?" You asked.

It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. All four men's eyes snapped up to look at you. John’s eyes were wide in shock.

You met eyes with him briefly as you reached into your blazer pocket, placing the small vial holding the implant onto the table.

"None of the tests I ran on the implant were able to reveal what kind of metal it is," You sighed, "It all came back as inconclusive."

"I—" For the first time, the third agent spoke for the first time. "How did you manage to salvage it?"

Tilting your head back and forth, you tried to sound professional. "I kept it… on my person at all times after I extracted it. I felt it was too important to lose."

The three men exchanged a silent conversation with their eyes. You looked at John, whose expression towards you had shifted from shock to awe. You offered him a sly smile.

"Well, then." Division Chief Brooks sounded frustrated—like a father allowing his children ice cream after being worn down by them. "Considering this… new piece of evidence, I—I suppose I could authorize the continuation of the project."

You breathed a sigh of relief. John’s shoulders sagged.

"However, Agent L/N, I will expect your reports on every single one of these cases within three days of them being closed, unless medically justified. Failure to do so will result in the termination of the project."

"Understood, sir," You said.

The third man lit a cigarette, before pointing to the vial on the table. "That implant will be kept with us, it's evidence now. Any and all evidence will be handed over to us," He ordered, taking a drag.

You nodded, but something told you John wouldn't approve. He didn't say anything, but you knew he'd have something to say sooner or later.

"You're both dismissed," Division Chief Brooks told you both.

Once you were out of the office and out of earshot, John stopped in the middle of the hallway. He put his hands on his hips and stared at you.

"I—That was… Wow. Y/N, how did you even do that?"

"Honestly?" You bit back a grin before lowering your voice. "...I hid it in my sports bra."

He broke out into a shocked smile. "In your—amazing. Y/N, you’re a genius."

"Am I now?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. You started down the hallway again, and he followed. "Thank you," He mumbled.

With a wave of your hand, you shook your head. "I'm just doing my job, y’know? Plus, I enjoyed working with you, John. I think we make a... decent team."

He looked down at his feet, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Well," He said, "If we are going to keep working together, can I ask you to do something?"

"Sure," You replied. By now, you were headed down the basement steps.

"Just… call me Johnny. John feels too… formal."

"Johnny," You sounded the name out, before smiling. "Yeah, it suits you better."

X-FILE 144-A: THE BELDAM'S GLENN BLOOD RITUALS

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE EVERETT TURNPIKE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—07:32 hours, Thursday, February 11th, 1993

"Brief me again on this case?" Johnny sighed as he drove ahead, "I was too tired when you explained on the flight here."

You nodded, rubbing your eyes and putting on your glasses. Outside, rain hit the roof of the car, and the sky was that bluish gray tinge of an early morning drizzle. That, paired with the soft guitar from the radio along with Robert Smith's voice made for gentle ambience.

I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

It's Friday, I'm in love...

 Pulling out the folder from your bag. Truth be told, you were tired too—you'd been called just before 3 in the morning by someone at the bureau telling you you'd been assigned to work a murder case in Beldam's Glenn, New Hampshire. A fairly small town, less than 10,000 people.

You'd had an hour to pack some clothes, then take a taxi to the bureau to grab some things from the office and pick up the file briefing the incident. Then, just before four you arrived at Reagan International, where you met a seemingly bedraggled Johnny. His suit was a bit wrinkly and there were dark circles rimming his eyes.

By now, you'd been working with Johnny for almost a year. You'd learned in that time that he did not enjoy waking up before 5 AM. 

"Good morning," You'd greeted, and he shook his head.

"It's not morning yet, and it certainly isn't gonna be a good one," He'd grumbled in response. 

"Okay, Oscar the Grouch." 

Now, in the car, flicking through the folder, you read out loud the information. A fifteen year old boy identified as Mark Lee had been found dead in the woods, near an area rumored to be where satanic cults practiced blood magic. His eyes and heart missing, torn clean out.

"...Ouch," Johnny muttered, stifling a yawn.

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Ouch."

"Any witnesses or anything?" 

"No," You mumbled, reading over more details. One in particular caught in your eye. "Huh… Additionally, animal tracks in the form of hooves, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, were found leading to Lee’s body."

Johnny tilted his head. "Hooves?"

You hummed in confirmation.

He raised his eyebrows, facing you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. His eyes were wide. Somehow, you already knew what he was going to say. "Do you think there's a small possibility—"

"No." 

Johnny huffed. "Oh, come on! Y/N, humans are innately spiritual beings. Is it so crazy to think that just maybe a creature akin to a demon could exist?"

"I don't know, Johnny. Maybe there is. But I think now that the middle ages are over and we have more logical explanations for things like this, we shouldn't immediately jump to conclusions."

For a long time, he didn’t speak. Another thing you learned during your time with Johnny was that while it was relatively easy to smother his wild conclusions during calmer discussions, it was damn near impossible to get him to let go of them completely. You knew he'd mention it again later, but for now, you were content to just drive like this with him. You were… comfortable with Johnny. 

He had a sort of dry wit that, paired with his suave persona, made him incredibly charismatic. Once you got to know him better, it surprised you that no one around your department of the bureau really liked him.

Dressed up to the eyes

It's a wonderful surprise

To see your shoes and your spirits rise...

He shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Look, there are the cop cars."

Johnny pulled over on the side of the road, one man holding an umbrella seemingly waiting for you both. You looked at the man in the driver's seat, and he nodded toward the back seat. "There's an umbrella in the back."

"Thanks," You said, grabbing the thing. You both stepped out of the car, tugging the vinyl umbrella open. You did a once over of the officer—sheriff, actually, once you saw the badge on his chest. Johnny stood behind you and grabbed the small umbrella from you, so that he could fit under it.

"You're the FBI guys?" The sheriff asked. The two of you pulled out your badges, presenting yourselves. He offered a smile, but it was obvious the middle-aged man was shaken up.

"My name is Bill McNamara," He said, beginning to walk towards the trees. The two of you followed. "Thank you for coming on such short notice." 

He led you to a spot crowded by a few more officers scattered across the space, a white sheet hiding the body, a few feet away from a large, mossy cracked tree stump, so wide it was probably older than 100 years when it fell.

"Is this Mark Lee?" Johnny asked, and Sheriff McNamara nodded. Another officer peeled the sheet back. The poor boy was, in fact, missing his eyes, and there was a large hole in his chest. Even after several years as an MD and an FBI agent, corpses still filled you with dread.

Johnny, in his proximity from behind, nudged you slightly and pointed to the ground next to the boy. 

"So," You said, turning your attention back to the officer once you noticed the hoof tracks, "Have there been any reports of missing animals in the area? Cows, sheep?"

"...Goats?" Johnny added. You nodded stiffly. Sheriff McNamara shook his head. When he spoke, he seemed resolute.

"They say this area is popular for blood rituals, witch's magic. Now, these rumors have been around for years—since I was a kid, actually."

"Any basis to those rumors?" You asked. The Sheriff gave you a look. 

"Agent L/N, just look at the body!"

"Lots of homicides involve victim desecration," You pointed out, "Is there anything else that might point to that?"

The sheriff put his free hand on his hip. "I know he and his friends listen to that disgusting devil's music."

"I didn't like Madonna's latest album either, but I don’t think it's bad enough to call it that," Johnny mumbled sarcastically. You gave him a subtle elbow in the ribs, flashing him a dirty look. The sheriff didn't seem to notice his banter.

"No, I'm talking about that heavy metal stuff. It takes root in our children, poisoning their minds."

He led you over towards the tree stump. Johnny took a more serious approach. "Have Mark Lee or any of his friends ever been spotted at any of these supposed rituals?"

"More rumors," You muttered. The sheriff shook his head, stopping in front of the stump. 

"Not that I know of," He said, before gesturing at the stump, "This is allegedly their altar. What do you think?"

Johnny's seriousness seemed to only last in short bursts, because he fired back with, "Honestly? With a few rounds of sandpaper and some cans of shellac, it'd make a pretty nice coffee table."

The sheriff replied, "Oh… Uh… Well, from the looks of this wax on it, it was probably being used when he died."

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side in embarrassment. But then a flash of white, and translucent pale yellow on the ground caught your eyes.

"Do you know if Lee was out here with anyone?" Johnny asked, not saying anything as you stepped out from under the umbrella. You heard the sheriff say, "We presume he was alone."

"You sure?" You asked, picking up the library card, and the piece of wet paper. "This Franklin Pierce High library card belongs to… Haechan Lee. And the paper here is torn at the stamp so that it doesn't say which library it's from, but it's safe to say that it's from there. The title at the top is torn, too, but it says '...In America'."

You stepped back under the umbrella, raising an eyebrow as you handed them to him. "I'm surprised your people missed this."

The sheriff balked, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I'm sorry, Agent L/N," He murmured, "I'll admit, we're all a bit… shaken up here. This isn't something that we've ever dealt with, which is why I called the FBI. I'll have my men escort you to Franklin Pierce. That kid, Donghyuck Lee… He's Mark’s best friend. He's most likely there."

The sheriff stalked off, and you raised an eyebrow at Johnny before lowering your voice. "Better hide your Metallica albums… I could barely take him seriously."

He shrugged. "Well, the body's clearly displayed in a ceremonial manner. Plus, those goat tracks are highly unusual, Y/N." 

"I was under the impression he made you skeptical once he started speaking," You hummed, crossing your arms. He shook his head.

"I didn't wanna feed his imagination. Poor guy's clearly overwhelmed."

"I think he fed your imagination, Johnny. This is nothing but some murderer taking advantage of local folklore. I mean, there's nothing that odd about—"

The sound of slapping and bouncing against the vinyl of the umbrella caused you to jump back, crashing into Johnny's chest. Your shoulders tensed up as Johnny dropped the umbrella and let out a startled, "What the—"

You caught the umbrella as it fell from his hands, but it was too late for him. Something large, wet and brownish green hit him in the forehead before landing on the ground and flopping away. 

Your mouth dropped open and you met Johnny's equally shocked expression as you both registered the multitude of toads raining down on you. 

A few seconds later and it stopped, but now the ground was covered in toads, now jumping away in different directions. Neither you nor Johnny spoke for a good fifteen seconds, until he wiped his forehead free of… mucus. Your shoulders dropped slowly when he finally spoke.

"So… wanna get coffee before we head over to the school?"

Your face dropped from confusion to disbelief. "Johnny, toads just fell from the sky."

"Yeah, but I still want coffee."

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—09:04 hours, Thursday February 11th, 1993

Coffee on the table, you sat at a desk situated in the school office. Your laptop, the case file and a copy of today's newspaper were laying on top of it. A few feet away from you, the school psychologist and the secretary you'd borrowed the desk from were speaking to each other. You paid them no mind, looking over the file as you typed up your preliminary report.

You continued typing until the door opened, Johnny stomping in tugging a scrawny looking teenage boy—who was most likely Haechan Lee—by the upper arm. Two girls followed meekly behind, as well as a middle-aged woman, who you assumed was a teacher. All three of the kids seemed to be on the verge of tears. You raised an eyebrow at the sight. Johnny looked pissed off, and he asked the psychologist in a clipped tone, "Hey, Doyoung, could Agent L/N and I use your office to talk to the kids?"

Doyoung looked at the boy in Johnny's grip, then at the secretary, then you, before he nodded. Johnny opened the door and made a motion for the kids to go inside. "Sit down at that table. Don't speak unless spoken to," He ordered, tone stern. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek at his voice as you stood. What had gotten into him?

You pulled him away from the doorway, lowering your voice. "You good?"

Johnny sent the boy a glare before sighing. "Kid tried jumping out the window in front of the entire class to escape. I'll calm down. Just pisses me off that he thought something that stupid would work."

You bit back a smile, patting him on the shoulder. "Pull it together, Suh. He can't get away like this."

Johnny nodded, looking down at you warmly. "Ooh, last name. I'm in trouble."

"Shut up," You huffed, only half-joking. You were about to turn when you remembered something you'd read from the cover of the newspaper.

"By the way," You murmured, "National Weather Service reported tornadoes in northern Massachusetts early this morning. The toads probably got picked up from the winds."

Johnny sighed, before walking into the psychologist's office.

He turned to the woman. "Mrs. Walker, we'll take it from here, go on back to the other kids in your class."

"Are you sure?" She asked, pushing a black, stray hair back into her tight bun. Johnny nodded.

"The one day I'm called in to sub and all of this happens," She muttered to herself. 

You spared a glance at the middle-aged woman, giving her a polite smile. She did the same, and you followed behind Johnny, pulling out your tape recorder from your pocket and closing the door behind you. 

Johnny crossed his arms and leaned against the door, you standing in front of the table and setting the tape recorder on the table. 

"This is going to be recorded," You told them. None of them protested, so you hit the record button.

"So, let's get this out of the way," Johnny began, "None of you are under arrest. We just want to ask you some questions. First, I want you to state your names for the record. Understood?" 

They all nodded, and they introduced themselves: the dark haired, tan boy was in fact Donghyuck Lee, the shorter curly haired girl was named Amy Espinoza, and the taller redheaded girl was named Phoebe Howard. 

The questions were basic and thus, so were the answers. Donghyuck and Mark were childhood best friends, but not related. Mark introduced Amy to him with Phoebe's help. Donghyuck took the book Witch Hunt: A History of The Occult in America out because he and Mark wanted to make the whole thing seem legit. When asked why they really wanted to go out there, Donghyuck looked down. He held his hands together between his thighs.

"We wanted to… you know."

"We really don't," You said, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he wanted to sink into the earth then and there.

"Mark and I had a bet that whoever got past second base with the girlsfirst  would do the other's biology homework for the rest of the year."

Amy nudged Phoebe. "Told you," She grumbled quietly. Phoebe glared at her. 

You continued the interrogation. The incantation taken from the book was apparently one meant to summon Azazel. They'd gone out there just before midnight because the book said that was the best time. 

Donghyuck insisted they didn't kill him. "I'll let you search my car and everything, that's how we got there."

"Did you see what happened?"

Phoebe took a shaky breath, before burying her face in her hands. Amy nodded. "...We did. We ran but it had already… gotten to Martin."

You and Johnny exchanged a glance. "It?" You asked. 

Donghyuck nodded. "Lady, you're gonna think we're bullshitting you—"

"Language," You and Johnny scolded in unison. Donghyuck at least had the audacity to look embarrassed. 

"We got out there," Amy continued, "Martin lit a candle on the stump and did the incantation. The wind… changed. It suddenly got a lot colder and we started hearing… I don't even know."

"It sounded like, I guess what you would call speaking in tongues," Donghyuck said. "And then suddenly, there was this thing a few feet away from us. Maybe over six feet tall, and at first I thought it was a goat, but… it wasn't."

"What did it look like?"

Phoebe cried even harder, and the other two exchanged a weary glance. "It had… glowing orange eyes, and long dark hair." Amy shuddered. "It looked like it had goat legs, but a human torso. It was like…"

"It had a… a woman’s chest," Donghyuck mumbled. Your eyes landed on Phoebe, who seemed to be extremely upset. You exchanged a glance with Johnny. He seemed to understand what you were saying, and nodded wordlessly.

"Phoebe, are you alright?" You asked, feeling that something was up. She was shaking like a leaf. With a sigh, you turned the recorder off, and pointed at Amy and Donghyuck. "Both of you, wait outside on that chair. Don't move."

The two of them left, and you nodded at Johnny to sit next to you. 

"Phoebe," Johnny said softly, "Is there something going on that the other two don't know?"

She wiped her eyes, lip wobbling. You put a hand on his shoulder, taking over. "No, there isn't," She mumbled, "I'm just… this whole thing's freaked me out."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. She didn't sound very convincing. Something wasn't right here. Still, you knew it would be hard to get anything out of her when she was so upset.

"Alright. You—you're free to go." You took a deep breath, hesitating before you spoke again. 

"...But if you do want to tell us anything, you can come to us and we can—we'll speak off the record, if it makes you feel better."

Johnny frowned. "I think maybe—"

You flashed him a strong glare, cutting him off, before turning back to Phoebe. She sniffled, eyes darting between the two of you. When she settled on you, she allowed herself to relax a little bit more than when she'd been looking at Johnny. She nodded wordlessly, fiddling with a silver charm bracelet on her left wrist, and you gestured towards the door. "Go wash your face, drink some water. Tell your friends they're free to go. 'Kay?"

She gave a small smile at your gentler tone. Once she was gone, Johnny was on you. "We could have pressed her further. Why did you even offer to go off the record if we haven't ruled her off as a suspect, that's breaking bureau protocol—" 

"We'll talk about this later," You answered as you stood. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the three teenagers leave.

He lowered his voice as you opened the door. "Y/N, I can't believe—"

"You're letting them go?" The secretary—Beatrice, you believed was her name—asked, glaring at you. Her coiffed blonde bob bounced as she shook her head disapprovingly. Immediately, Johnny straightened. 

"There's not enough evidence to keep them here," He said, "Besides, they're minors. It's always tricky with them."

"It's so obvious that they did it." Doyoung crossed his arms, "They've clearly been influenced by all that stuff on MTV."

You sighed. "The FBI recently concluded a years long study researching any correlation between homicides and media consumption and found that it only occurs in 0.01% of cases. If there were any it would mean thousands of people murdering tens of thousands of other people. It'd be the biggest conspiracy in human history."

Doyoung scoffed, giving you a mocking glance. "Yeah, and J. Edgar Hoover never admitted the existence of the mafia. Really trustworthy source, the FBI."

Johnny barely contained his scoff. He glowered at Doyoung as he gently pushed your upper back towards the door. 

"Our investigation is ongoing."

ROSE GARDEN HOTEL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—19:57 hours, Thursday, February 11th, 1993

Johnny's door opened to a sight of you, no makeup, in sweatpants and hair tied up. You took in his appearance. He had on a similar pair of sweatpants, and a white t-shirt. His hair was pushed back, and he was wearing his reading glasses. 

"What's up?" He asked, letting you in. 

"I found something," You murmured, holding up your laptop as he closed the door. You sat at the foot of the bed, and he sat next to you. You opened the laptop, green text flashing onto the screen. His shoulder brushed yours due to the proximity. 

"'The grisly discovery of a young boy's mutilated body in the woods in the early morning has local law enforcement worried about the organization of conspiratorial dark forces.'"

He nodded. "Okay, is that from this morning's newspaper?"

You didn't answer, but rather read another quote from the article. "'The Jew is known to sacrifice teenagers and remove their organs during their religious rituals.' This is from a Nazi newspaper, from 1934. I found another similar case from 1967, where they pinned it on LSD users. The details are always the same, they just fill in the blanks with whoever was being persecuted at the time."

Johnny met your eyes. "And this time, it's occultists."

"Maybe this is some hidden organization, but I'm not sure. But something's just… not right. I have a bad feeling." 

"Something to do with that girl?"

You nodded. "Is there anything you picked up? Something I might not have noticed?"

He chewed on his lip. "Now that you mention it, I did notice something a few minutes ago, but it doesn't have to do with her. Come on."

He stood, and you set the laptop down on the bed before following him to the bathroom door, where he flicked the light on.

"So, we're in the northern hemisphere." He marched to the sink, leaning over it.

You leaned against the doorframe. "Last time I checked, yes."

He pressed the plug into the sink drain, before turning on the faucet. "The Coriolis Effect dictates that due to the Earth's rotation, water should swirl clockwise, right?"

You nodded, having an idea of where this is going. He motioned for you to come closer. He turned off the faucet. By now, some water had filled the sink just enough. He removed the plug, and you watched as the water went down, whirlpool swirling counterclockwise. 

"Johnny—"

"Something is here, Y/N. It's strong enough to affect this, then who knows—"

"Johnny, the Coriolis Effect works on storms and large bodies of water. Sinks and bathtubs usually don't fall under—"

He groaned, tipping his head back. "Of course," He grumbled, "It's been like this since day one."

You squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. Yes, in your time working with Johnny, you'd seen some truly unexplainable things. A pyromaniac that could light things on fire with his mind, a prehistoric parasite that turned its host violent, a serial killer that entered houses by squeezing his body through impossibly small spaces like an octopus. 

But still, you always had your doubts. "Johnny, once cases are over and we have our explanations, and I've seen things for myself, have I ever not believed you—"

"You don't trust me during these cases, Y/N, that's what matters! It's always been like this, I'm always right, but you never believe me, you go off and write your little notes about me like I'm some field experiment—"

You frowned and crossed your arms. "Johnny—"

"Have I ever gotten anything wrong? 90% of the time, my conclusions are the correct ones—"

"We come to those conclusions together! Don't start taking credit for them now."

"Oh, so you believe it only when your name is also on the report, huh?"

"Don't twist my words, Johnny. You know what I mean. I believe my conclusions first, and then I listen to yours and based on circumstantial evidence and once I discard all logical scientific explanations, then I turn to the extraordinary. I don't jump to conclusions like you do!"

"Why can't you be a good friend for once and fucking listen to me—"

"Because I'm not your friend, Johnny! I'm your fucking coworker!"

The silence that filled the room once you were done was deafening. It was only then that you realized how loud you'd gotten. The shocked disappointment in Johnny's eyes seemed to be even louder, though. 

Immediately, you realized your mistake. Yes, you'd grown close to him, but that was necessary for working well on these assignments. Keeping your work life and your personal life separate was paramount for you. Evidently, Johnny didn't feel the same, and as a result, you'd hurt him.

For a long time, no one said anything. Simply staring at each other, small space ripe with tension. Your eyes softened when he looked away from you, leaning his back against the counter. You took a step closer, until he was right in front of you.

"Johnny, I—"

"Can you get out, please?"

You stared at him for a few moments, trying to think of something to say. 

Ultimately, you didn't. You took a deep sigh, and grabbed your laptop on the way out.

Being an FBI meant you had little to no personal time, working pretty much 7 days a week and being on call for anything at any time, in any part of the country. You knew that when you started your training.

You'd entered with a statement and left with a question. Could you really call Johnny a friend? You really only saw him during work. You didn’t meet outside of it—but considering how much you worked, always on call and spending nights holed up with him in hotel rooms or in your office going over evidence of different cases, at what point did you start spending more time at work than at your day to day life?

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—10:11 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

You were looking between the notes you’d scribbled down on a small notepad using a pen you’d stolen from Johnny the day before. It was while you were transferring them to the report on your computer that you jumped in your seat when the office door burst open. Mrs. Walker guided a sniffling Phoebe Howard into the room. Johnny, who had been speaking to Doyoung to ask him about other students, turned his head. 

Doyoung held up a hand, to which Johnny nodded, and the shorter man walked over to the two of them. "Phoebe, are you alright?"

She shook her head, breaking into tears again, unable to speak. Doyoung turned to Mrs. Walker, who simply patted her head. "Lab project," She murmured, "They had to dissect pig embryos. She just… broke down. I've seen it happen before. Some kids are just more sensitive than others."

"No, no, it's not that," Phoebe blubbered, "Can I…"

Despite everything that had happened last night, when you looked at Johnny, you saw he'd done the same. A tense, knowing stare was shared between the two of you, and then Phoebe spoke.

"Can I speak to Agent L/N please?"

Your head snapped to her when she said your name. You stood, and nodded.

You lead her out the door while ignoring Doyoung’s frown and Mrs. Walker's confused look. Johnny followed behind at a distance. 

The three of you went out the door, to the outdoor lunch tables. You had Phoebe sit down, Johnny and you remained standing. 

"What is it you wanted to talk about, Phoebe?" You said gently.

She took a shaky breath, rubbing her hands together. "So… Do you know who my stepdad is?"

Thinking back to when you'd made a basic profile on the three kids yesterday afternoon, you nodded. "He's the gym coach here, right? Grant Howard?"

She nodded. "So… he married my mom when I was 6. And he adopted me when I was 8. One year after that my mom got a new job, a-and she started travelling a lot, y'know? So I was alone with him a lot more. I-I don't know when it started, but…"

The sinking feeling in your chest grew as she started to cry again.

"S-sometimes when she wasn't here, h-he would invite people over. They'd come i-in with these red cloaks and they—would bring small animals. Kittens a-and puppies, birds sometimes… They would take me down to the basement, to a room where the walls are painted red and there's this dirt floor, and they would—they would stand in a circle and sing and they would give m-me knives, o-or screwdrivers and…"

You sat down next to her, rubbing her shoulder as she let out a gut-wrenching cry. Looking at Johnny, the hand that wasn't in his trench coat pocket was balled into a fist. He was looking down, eyebrows furrowed.

"I didn't want to!" She wailed, "They would hurt me if I didn't, they said they would hurt my mom if I said anything! I had to be the one to kill the animals and then they w-would drink the blood—I don't know how I blocked it out or why I never remembered it until Mrs. Walker put the—the pig on the table, and I… I… I just…"

"It's okay, honey," You murmured, nodding. She buried her head into your shoulder, sobbing freely, and you rubbed her back to soothe her. 

Again, you looked at Johnny, who didn't look at you. You realized just how difficult it would be to keep this off the record—this was something that involved a child being abused, you couldn’t let her go home to a dangerous situation. 

This just got a whole lot more complicated. 

HOWARD RESIDENCE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—15:49 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

Phoebe was to remain at school. Donghyuck and Amy would pick her up, and she would spend the night with Amy. She wouldn't be going home until the situation was thoroughly investigated. She'd been left with Doyoung, who would speak to her as a mandated reporter, and would later go back to attempt to finish the project. You left her your number in case she needed to speak to you again. 

You'd spoken to Mrs. Walker as her final class was out, just before you and Johnny left. The lab was spacious. A large python lay sleeping in a glass case in the corner of the room. The space was ripe with the smell of blood, which didn't surprise you, given the amount of pig embryos she was having her students dissect all day long.

The woman had a soft voice, and seemed very sympathetic to Phoebe's struggle. "I absolutely understand, I might have her do something else for her grade, but I'm afraid I might not be able to find any other activity on such short notice."

You nodded, sighing. "Of course. Thank you for considering, regardless." 

Your eyes fell to her desk, where a small basket of random items glinted with a small charm bracelet, the same bracelet you'd seen on—

"Ah, the students usually ask me to hold onto their things when we get messy like this," She said with a smile when she noticed where you were looking. "You said you're a doctor, so you understand, right?"

"Oh, yes. I can't really wear anything at all," You said with a soft chuckle.

"Not even a ring? Oh, your husband must be disappointed." 

You felt your face heat up, scratching your neck awkwardly. "I'm not married."

She smiled. “Oh, good for you then. It’s literal hell. And, you get to ogle your partner all day.”

You choked on your spit, coughing awkwardly. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

She laughed, waving her hands, “Oh, Agent L/N, don’t be so modest. You can’t deny that Agent Suh is an absolute dish. Why, if I were 25 years younger… oh my, the things I would—”

“I really must be going, Mrs. Walker,” You insisted quickly. “I’ll contact you should I have any other questions for you."

“Could I have your phone number, in case anything comes up? I-I’ll admit, this whole situation has frightened me a bit.”

You nodded sympathetically, ignoring how uncomfortable you’d felt a moment ago. Pulling out Johnny's pen and your notepad, and you jotted down your number there.

“Y/N?” A knock sounded, and Johnny popped his head in the door. “We need to go.”

“Yeah, I know,” You replied, tucking the notepad back into your pocket. You bid Mrs. Walker goodbye, and off you went, kitten heels clacking as you went.

As for your time with Johnny? The entire ride there was tense.

“Were you expecting that?” He asked a few minutes into the ride. You raised an eyebrow.

“The secret cult that forced a nine year old girl to murder puppies and kittens?” You answered in a clipped tone, “No, John. I can’t say I was.”

He hummed. "Okay… no tape recorder today?"

"I forgot it. Left it at the hotel."

He nodded, and that was that. 

Her mother and adoptive stepfather were, to say the least, shocked at their daughter's confession. You spoke to the girl's mother in the living room, Johnny spoke to her father. Mrs. Howard, whom Phoebe had insisted had never said anything was beside herself, crying as she spoke to you.

“Mrs. Howard, you’re absolutely sure you’ve never witnessed any violent behavior from your husband?”

She nodded, sniffling. “He’s always treated me and Phoebe very kindly. In front of me, at least.”

You hummed, looking down at the carpeted floor. “You said this is your husband's house, and he’s lived here longer than you have? Have you been in all parts of the house? Is there maybe an area a guest might not know about?”

She looked up at the ceiling in thought. “After hearing what Phoebe told you both, it made me realize that I’d never been in the basement. Grant’s always said that was his woodworking space, and he didn’t want anyone in there.”

With a nod, you looked at her. “Could my partner and I maybe take a look at--” 

A commotion from the kitchen cut you off.

“I DIDN���T DO ANYTHING OF THE SORT! I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ACCUSING ME OF, SUH!”

You shot up, and so did Mrs. Howard, just in time to see Grant Howard push Johnny into the cabinet. Your training kicked in, and you stepped between the two, holding up your hands to placate the man. 

“Calm down, now,” You growled, dangerously low, “Or I will place you under arrest for assault of an officer.” 

“Grant,” Mrs. Howard called, “Breathe.”

“Leave, both of you! If you want to see my basement, get a damn warrant and you’ll see there’s nothing down there!”

You tugged Johnny away by the wrist, leaving out the front door. “What happened?” 

Johnny shook his head in aggravation. “I asked to see the basement, said that it would clear my suspicions of him. He said he didn’t hurt Phoebe, and I said I didn’t believe him. Then he snapped, grabbed me by the collar and shook me.”

He unlocked the car. “Should we try and get that warrant?”

You got into the passenger seat, shrugging. “I can do it.”

Johnny nodded. “Hopefully we’ll find—”

A ringing from Johnny’s phone caught him off guard. He fished the phone out from his pocket, answering, “Suh.”

“Sheriff, what’s going on?”

You could hear him through the speaker, and you didn't like what you heard. 

"We'll be there right away," Johnny said, face turning serious.

ROOM 471, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—17:37 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

"You're saying she just… had a seizure?"

"I was sitting at the desk, and she was about halfway through the dissection when she just… collapsed on the floor," Mrs. Walker said, voice trembling, "She was shaking and her eyes were rolled up into her head… Agent L/N, it was terrifying."

You sighed and looked at Johnny, who was speaking with the sheriff. When you looked back at Mrs. Walker, she was shaking her head. "I feel a dark force is among us, Agent L/N," She murmured, putting a hand on her chest, "So many horrible things in such a short span of time."

"Agent Suh and I are working hard to solve the case, Mrs. Walker. I promise we're doing our best."

"Y/N," Johnny called, "We gotta go."

You bid the older woman goodbye, and she gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Once you were out the door with Johnny, your voice lowered. "What do you got?"

"Not a lot. The Howards have been notified, but Grant Howard isn't being allowed into her hospital room."

"Who called the police?"

"Clinton."

"Clinton?" 

He shook his head, grimacing to himself. "Shit, sorry. Beatrice Pratt. The secretary." 

You stared at him. "Pratt and Clinton don't sound alike at all."

"Well, yeah, but…" He scratched his head and lowered his voice. "The pantsuit and the bob remind me of the first lady."

You frowned. "I wear pantsuits all the time."

"Yeah, but you don't look like Hillary Clinton."

You sighed. You didn’t have time for this, especially when he was still mad at you. "Okay. Sure, whatever. I talked to Walker. I… I'm not so sure about her."

Johnny tilted his head. "Why not?"

"I don't know. I don't have a lot to go off of, but it seems just a little bit odd that she shows up the morning of Mark Lee's death, replacing a man who apparently hasn't missed a day in a fifteen year career."

"Maybe he had an emergency. Happens to everyone."

"Johnny, he contracted flesh eating bacteria. Does that sound like something that happens to everyone?"

He didn't answer. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting that. "Ohhh-kay, then. Let's do this. The sheriff said that the warrant should be ready within a few hours. Howard would probably beat my ass if he sees me again, so you check out that basement, and I can do the background check on Walker. Sound good?"

"Actually, I don't think you'll need a warrant."

The two of you turned, stunned, to see Grant Howard standing in front of you both. His eyes were rimmed red and he was clearly restless, shifting his weight onto his legs constantly. 

"Agent L/N, I'll show you the basement."

HOWARD RESIDENCE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—18:09 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

"My entire life," The man said, sounding tired, "I was taught that humans are no better, no worse than animals. Do what thou willst, rather than do unto others." 

He pulled open the basement door, gesturing for you to go first. Immediately, you were on edge. If you had your back turned he could easily push you down the stairs or hit you in the head.

"You go down first," You ordered. He nodded understandingly. "You were saying?""My family has kept this religion for seven generations. My great, great, great, great grandfather was born in 1777, Agent L/N, and he was the one who brought us into it. We've been keeping it alive since, with two other families. It kept us in good health, we had no money problems."

When the two of you got to the bottom of the stairs, he turned the light on and you realized Mrs. Howard had been right, it did look like a normal woodworking space. Until Mr. Howard pulled a rug up from the ground to reveal a hatch, which he pulled up to reveal another set of stairs.

"I was raised to believe that Christianity was synonymous with hypocrisy. And for years, I believed that." He led you down this pair of stairs again, where he lit his flashlight. The room was a bit smaller than the basement but still large enough to keep a large group of people like Phoebe had said. Also identical to her story were the red walls and the dirt floor.

 "Believed?"

"Believed," He confirmed. "I believed until I saw it in my own religion as well, not even an hour ago. When I got to the school to gather my things and was met by the heads of the other 2 families, asking me to pin the murder of Mark Lee on my own daughter. That if she were permanently affected by what just happened, we could get away with all of it. That was when I knew that I was better than an animal. I need to keep Phoebe and Linda safe."

"So one of you did murder Lee," You murmured, trying to get a solid confession. However, he shook his head. "I didn't. The others insist they didn't either." 

"Who did, then?"

He sighed. "Agent L/N, you have to understand, I'm trained in these arts so I know when there’s a difference somewhere. Something is here. Something bad."

 You frowned. "Alright. Did you or did you not abuse your daughter?"

"I never laid a hand on her. The others, however… they wanted to make sure she would stay quiet through fear, and they wouldn't listen to me. We have a ritual that blocks out memories, every time we would perform that ritual when we were done. The plan was to reveal the memories when she turned 18, and then allow her to join or reject the religion. It's a rite of passage."

"Why even use Phoebe in the first place?"

He shook his head. "The magic of an innocent soul is a powerful thing. It's one of the most powerful things we could ever use in our magic. That's also why we used those sacrifices. She was the youngest of all of our children. The others were all past 11 at that age."

With a sigh, you led him up back to the main basement. "Would you be willing to give me a written statement of who the heads of these families are?"

He nodded. "Of course. I just want my daughter and my wife to be safe. They believe that whatever's here wants a sacrifice. That it took Mark Lee as a warning to us, and unless it gets a sacrifice from us…"

"It'll strike again," You finished."And it won't stop." He sounded desperate. You found your notepad, but the pen was nowhere to be found. "Do you have a—"

Your cellphone ringing interrupted you. You groaned quietly, scooping it from your pocket. "Hello?"

"Y/N?" You heard Johnny's voice say. His tone was urgent. There was a faint crackle of static, but as you listened it began to get louder. "I'm at the school. You need to hurry, Y/N, there's something—!"

The static overpowered the sound of his voice, and then the call dropped. "Johnny? Johnny! Hello?"

Your heart dropped, and you tucked the phone and the notepad into your pocket. "I need to go. My partner's in trouble."

"I'll go with you," He offered.

You shook your head. "No. You're under arrest."

"What? But—"

"You just admitted to animal abuse, your complicity in child abuse and conspiracy. If I take you to the school, how do I know you won't take the other two and bolt?" You snapped. "Against that beam, there.

Pulling out some handcuffs, you forced him against the side of the stairs, where you handcuffed him to the railing. "I'll come back for you later," You growled, "Don't move."

Rushing up the stairs, and out the door, into the rain, you ran towards the car. Johnny needed you. 

Your friend needed you.

FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—18:30 hours, February 12th, 1993

You burst into the school, trying to keep calm despite the horrid feeling in your gut. You eyed the office, which was right next to the main entrance. The lights were on, you could see your laptop was on. But the seat was empty, and so was the rest of the office, or so it seemed to be from where you were standing. Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your gun, and entered the office slowly. 

"Hello?" You called, looking into the window of Doyoung’s office. Empty. The principal's office? Empty. Your mouth felt dry. 

Where was Johnny?

"Y/N?"

In a moment your professors at the academy would've been ashamed to see, you shrieked, and turned the gun in the direction the voice came from. But when you realized it was Johnny with a styrofoam coffee cup, whose eyes had gone wide at the sight of the gun pointed at him, you lowered it.

"Don't fucking scare me like that," You muttered as you tucked the gun into its holster. A second later, you raced forward, engulfing him in a hug as you realized that he was okay.

"Y/N? What's… going on?"

You pulled away once it registered what you'd done. "Sorry," You mumbled. "What happened? Where did the thing go?"

"Y/N, what are you talking about?"

You shook your head in confusion. "You called me. You said you were in danger. My heart fell out of my ass, Johnny, what happened?"

Johnny's face contorted at your statement. "Huh? Y/N, I never even touched my phone. I was running the background check on Walker—who, by the way, is pretty much clear in the system. But… I don't know."

Staring at him, you put your hands on your hips. "Johnny, I heard your… never mind. We have to go. Howard confessed."

His eyebrows shot up. "He did it?"

"No, but he admitted to conspiracy and has names. Come on, we have to go."

For the millionth time today, you made your way from the school to the Howard residence, where you found the door was still open. As you opened the door to the basement, you looked at him.

"He's down here."Johnny turned on his flashlight, and you followed him down the steps. The room was eerily quiet, and when Johnny flashed the light at where you said he was, it was empty.You huffed at the sight of the empty handcuffs. How had he slipped out of them?

"Y/N," Johnny said, flashing the light a few feet away, "Look."

You turned to see what he was pointing at. Your eyes widened at the sight of bones, tinged pink with the small chunks of meat still attached to it.

"Do you think it might be some kind of acid?" You asked, and Johnny shook his head.

"There's no sign of a reaction on the floor," He answered, flashing the light around the basement floor. He stopped a few feet away. You felt yourself grow even more confused.

"Is that—?

""Snakeskin," Johnny whispered, "...There's a python in Walker's class."

"B-but, that's not possible," You muttered, "It would take a snake hours to consume a grown man, and weeks to digest it!"

Johnny grabbed your wrist, shaking his head at your rambling. "C'mon, Einstein," He told you, "We gotta go pay Walker a visit."

ROOM 471, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—19:01 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

The school was a lot darker than when it had been when you had been there previously. Seeing the halls, which you'd grown used to being full and lit up, suddenly so dark and empty made you uneasy.

 It was raining a lot harder now. The sound of the rain pelting the roof made it harder to listen for anything. When you got to Walker's room, it was also dark. She said she'd be here until eight grading papers, but the room was empty. There were some broken beakers on one of the lab tables, and when you really strained your ears to listen, the sound of soft yet strained breathing could be heard behind the desk. 

"Mrs. Walker?" You called, slowly walking towards the desk. Johnny tried the light, but to no avail. The rain must have knocked it out.

The woman was on the floor, nose bleeding and leg bent at an angle at which legs weren't meant to bend at all. She seemed to have been hit in the head, a sizable lump protruding from her temple.

"Th-the snake—" She mumbled, "They took the snake—He hit me,"

"Who, Mrs. Walker, who?"

"Kim," She spat out, "Pratt. I think they—think they killed that boy."

Doyoung and Beatrice. You and Johnny exchanged glances, and you remembered what Grant had said.

"Did you see where they went, Mrs. Walker?" Johnny asked. She blinked hazily.

"Said something about the conference room," She muttered.

"We'll call paramedics for you, okay?" You stood, trying to reassure her gently. "You'll be fine."

Johnny had already picked up the phone. Thunder crackled overhead as he dialed the number, but you could hear the busy tone all the way from where you were standing

."Damn storm is jamming the signal," He said, "Y/N, we gotta go, now."

"Johnny, what about—"

"Y/N," He growled, "Now."

Something about his tone set you off, and you did as he said. He immediately shut the door, and sped up his steps down the hall. 

"What was that about?" You asked, turning on your flashlight and trying to keep up with his pace. 

"Y/N, do you have that pen you borrowed from me yesterday?" He asked, not slowing down. Thunder rumbled overhead.

"What?" He had a point, probably. He always did when he got like this. "No, I dropped it I think."

"The pen was on Walker's desk. Next to the phone. Next to Phoebe's bracelet. It was my pen."

You inhaled sharply as Johnny tugged the door to the conference room open. "What are you implying?"

"Walker was clear in the system. But when I was talking to the principal yesterday, she couldn't even remember hiring her. What are the odds that a woman pops up out of nowhere the same day a murder happens?"

You pulled a filing cabinet open, looking through random folders. "Okay, yes, we agree. But what if—"

"Y/N, did you not see how tall she was?"

You shook your head, turning to pull out some papers from a file. "Sure, she's a bit taller than average, but she's shorter than you—"

"She's slouching to look smaller. Trust me, I did that when I was younger. If she stood up straight, she would be taller than me. Donghyuck said the thing that grabbed Mark was tall, had female breasts, and had dark hair. She fits the profile."

You sighed. "I mean, maybe you—"

A thud! and a groan from Johnny had you turning your head. Your flashlight landed on Johnny, on the ground, unconscious. Your body turned cold. 

"Johnny—?"

But then you felt something hit you in the back of the head, and everything went dark. 

Your eyes cracked open at the sensation of being dragged, and as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized two things. 

One, you arms and legs were bound, and there was a gag placed in your mouth. You craned your head, and Johnny was in the same situation as you, only he was still unconscious. 

And two, you were being dragged by Hillary Clinton. 

Shit, no. Maybe you'd hit your head harder than expected. Your vision cleared up further, and you realized it wasn't, in fact, Hillary Clinton, but rather Beatrice Pratt. Doyoung was dragging Johnny, and then you realized what was going on. 

These were the others that Grant Howard had been referring to. They seemingly hadn't realized you were awake yet. You were in the school gymnasium, headed towards a doorway in the corner. The room was dark, occasionally lit by flashes of lightning.

"—The showers, right?" Doyoung asked, sounding out of breath. Beatrice huffed. 

"Yes. The blood will get washed away there."

You couldn’t move your hands, no matter how much you squirmed. Your eyes looked at Johnny, who was beginning to stir. His brows furrowed, mouth trying to form words. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Doyoung hummed, disdain dripping from his voice, “Lovely.”

Johnny’s eyes cracked open, immediately glaring at Doyoung, who chuckled. “Please. I’m terrified.”

“Doyoung, shut up,” Beatrice snapped. “Open the door.”

Doyoung let Johnny’s legs fall onto the floor. Johnny groaned in discomfort as Doyoung opened the door, propping it open with something.

He approached Johnny again, but before he picked him up to drag him further, he landed a swift kick to Johnny’s gut. Johnny let out a muffled moan in pain, and you thrashed against your restraints.

“You just had to come and ruin everything, huh? This is a once in a century opportunity, and you--” He proceeded to kick Johnny again, over and over, “Just--won’t--quit.”

“Doyoung!” Beatrice snapped. “We don’t have time for this. Don’t you sense it getting angrier? If we don’t sacrifice them now, it’ll take us like it took Grant.”

Doyoung turned to her, breathing heavily through his nose. “Fine,” He bit out.

They dragged you into the bathrooms, leading you to the showers, where they dumped you both next to each other. You rolled onto your side to look at Johnny, whose eyes were screwed shut in pain. His breathing was labored. 

You squirmed again, trying to free yourself as the shower roared to life. Curling in on yourself as cold water soaked your body, you tried to think of a way to save both Johnny and yourself. Doyoung and Beatrice pulled out large daggers from their  coat pockets, and raised their arms to the sky. They began chanting in latin, but the roar of water, the shock of the cold temperature, and the panic beginning to set in caused the words to blur together. 

This was it. You and Johnny were going to die. 

Until the two of them crumpled on top of you. You jumped as Doyoung’s weight toppled onto you, eyes squeezing shut in pain. His elbow had landed on your stomach. For a moment, as you lay there reeling in pain, and you wondered if this was a part of the ritual. But then…

"Agent L/N?" Your eyes shot open, and you met eyes with Amy Espinoza. She managed an awkward attempt at a polite smile, fiddling with what she was holding in her hands. Your eyes widened when you registered the shotgun. A flashlight was duct-taped haphazardly to the barrel, probably so that she could see wherever she was aiming.

"Mmh-hffpnffh?" You couldn't stop yourself from trying to speak, unable to contain your surprise. 

A second set of hands turned off the shower, and you craned your neck to see Donghyuck Lee, holding an old baseball bat underneath his armpit. He pulled Beatrice off of Johnny, making a disgusted face. "I always knew there was something up with her," He grumbled, "She never laughed at my jokes."

"Yeah, 'cause you're annoying as shit," Amy countered, pushing Doyoung to the side. "Can you guys sit up?"

She untied your hands, and you got to work on untying your feet before pulling the gag off of your mouth. 

"What are you two doing here?" Johnny asked, voice raspy and out of breath. 

You stood up, wiping water off of your face. "Where did you get that gun?"

 "Oh." Amy suddenly sounded embarrassed. "I, uh… Stole it from my dad?

"Donghyuck helped Johnny stand. "We went to visit Phoebe in the hospital, Mr. Suh—"

"Agent Suh," Johnny corrected, bringing a hand to his stomach. "Whatever. Anyway, we went to visit and once she woke up she told us something… not good."

"Mrs. Walker is the thing," Amy said. "Phoebe said she was dissecting the pig and she saw her grab the bracelet she'd given her—"

"And she did something and her eyes turned orange, like the thing we saw in the woods!" Amy continued. "The officer that was there didn't believe her, but we did."

"So we decided to take matters into our own hands," Donghyuck said. "She killed our best friend, so we thought—"

"That coming to your school with a shotgun and a wooden baseball bat, to kill a demon was the best course of action?" You didn't sound amused, and the two of them exchanged a look.

Amy looked down. "Well… when you put it like that…"

"It doesn't matter," Johnny said. "You kids need to go home now. It's not safe for either of you." 

"Like hell we're going anywhere! We were able to save you guys, so—"

“You kids got lucky this one time," You pointed out, sounding stern, "Agent Suh and I are trained for dangerous situations like this. You two aren't, and we certainly aren't about to expose you kids to one. Go home."

You searched your pockets, not finding your gun. You crouched to look through Doyoung and Beatrice's pockets, handing Johnny's gun to him and putting your gun back into your holster.

"But—"

A large crack of thunder startled you all, and the ground seemed to rumble as it did. Johnny looked past you and the kids, at the end of the shower hallway, and inhaled sharply.

"Oh, that's so much worse than Hillary Clinton," He mumbled. You didn't even see what he meant, but in that split second something in you took over. You pulled Donghyuck behind you, Johnny grabbing Amy and doing the same. 

At the same time, Amy aimed the gun to where Johnny had been looking, the light landing on...

Donghyuck gasped. "Holy shit."

It was like exactly what Donghyuck had said, except worse. Glowing, orange eyes, goat legs, stringy black hair. Johnny was right—standing like this, she was much taller than him. Her jaw was unhinged, open impossibly wide. She was panting heavily, hobbling slowly towards you. 

You and Johnny pulled out your guns, shooting instantly. One hit her in the shoulder, the other in the stomach. Her jaw opened even further, and a blood curdling screech echoed throughout the tiled room. 

Then she broke out into a run. 

You forced yourself to stand still, shooting another round before she jumped over you. Out of the corner of your eye, Donghyuck swung the bat, hitting her in the leg, causing her to fall face first to the ground.

 Taking that advantage, Johnny fired another round into her back. She shrieked again, and you and Johnny took the opportunity to run out the door, pushing the kids with you.

"Go! Both of you, now," You ordered once you were in the gym again. They shook their heads. Donghyuck held up his bat.

"We're not leaving without—"

"Donghyuck, this isn't a movie," Johnny insisted, "Now go!"

 Amy grabbed his arm. "Hyuck, they're right, we have to—LOOK OUT!"

You turned to see what had once been Mrs. Walker stick its head out of the doorway. Amy was able to fire one last shot into it, with her shotgun. You didn’t see where it hit—the door shut and you heard one final wail. 

A few moments later, the lights flickered on. You stood there, clothes dripping onto the hardwood floor for a good minute or so, until you looked at Johnny, who wore a pained grimace. "I can check," You told him. "Stay here with the kids." 

"You sure?" He asked. You nodded, holding out your gun and slowly making your way towards the door. You spared the odd trio one final glance. 

Johnny—soaking wet hair falling into his eyes—was standing in front of them, aiming his gun at the door. Donghyuck was holding his bat up, Amy's MacGyver-esque flashlight gun making you squint.

Then, you opened the door. You could feel your heart hammering a mile a minute. Very slowly, you scanned the room. You stopped when you glanced at the showerhead Beatrice and Doyoung had placed you under—the same one they should have been under, knocked unconscious. You swallowed a lump in your throat. 

Because they weren’t there, and neither was Mrs. Walker. What you did see, however, were two large streak of blood dragged up the wall and to a window, staining the green tiles.

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—20:47 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

The four of you made your way back to the main building on high alert. The rain seemed to have stopped once the thing was gone. Amazingly, there wasn't even a cloud in the sky. Even the air felt different—cleaner.

Shockingly, this time when Johnny tried the phone again, it worked. In order, he called the sheriff, who had no issue believing the ordeal you had gone through. Then the principal, who was incredibly confused as to how four of her teachers could vanish in one night.

 And then, you turned to the kids and gestured to the phone. "Alright, your turn now. Call your parents, both of you."

If they were more afraid of the murderous hellspawn they'd just helped you fight off, it didn't show. "Please just let us go now, Agent L/N," Donghyuck pleaded, "My mom will never let me leave my house again after this."

Amy shook her head. "My dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I stole the gun again."

Johnny made a face. "Again?"

She turned even paler when she realized her screw up. "I'm not going to omit witnesses from a report because you'll get grounded," You told them. "You're good kids, with good intentions. You just lost someone and had another friend go through something traumatic, we get that. But what you did tonight was incredibly dangerous, reckless, and—and—"

"Stupid?" Johnny offered.

"Johnny!" You snapped, lowering your voice. He shrugged.

You sighed, trying to get them to understand. "Alright, listen. There's a Yellow Pages over on that desk. If you don't call them, I will, or the sheriff will. Which would scare your parents less, huh? Getting a call from their kids, from the sheriff's department, or from the goddamn federal bureau of investigation?"

If they didn't get it before, they definitely understood now. Amy took the fall first, telling her dad she'd brought her car to the school, had gotten into trouble, and needed him to come by to talk to the police. She left out the gun, much to your amusement.

While Donghyuck did the same, you pulled Johnny into the hallway to speak to him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, "Doyoung seemed to kick you pretty hard." 

"I'll take a few days off once we get back to DC, I'll be fine," He murmured. He leaned against the wall and winced.

You nodded, but weren't sure how to respond. Finally, you spoke again.

"Look, about last night," You said softly, and he looked up in thought. 

"What about it?" He didn't seem to want to meet your eyes.

You took a step forward. "Johnny, other than when we first met, have I ever treated you like you were crazy?" 

Your voice was quieter now, gentler in its approach. He looked to the side, crossing his arms. "...No."

You shrugged, before sighing. "It's not that I don't trust you. I have my scientific conclusions. You have yours. Every time I see something I can't explain I try to explain it with what I do know. Tonight was… insane, and you were right. But honestly? It just reinforced my wanting to go the scientific route every time we have a case."

He frowned. "Why? You saw Walker."

"Exactly." You crossed your arms. "If I went into every single case, expecting to see that or something even worse? God. I… I don't know how you do it, John."

He smiled, but still didn't meet your eyes. "I didn't mean what I said last night either. Y'know… that. Or at least, I didn't realize I didn't mean it until today. I… I care about you, Johnny. I really do. You're smart, and you're really funny, and you give me perspectives I wouldn't consider otherwise."

He looked at you, and you put a hand on his upper arm. "I'm glad I have a friend like you to work with," You admitted, "And I'm glad you're okay."

His smile grew, and he let out a chuckle. "There's no one else in the bureau I would rather be murdered by Hillary Clinton with," He said, with the most endearing tone possible. You burst into laughter, Johnny joining you. He stepped closer, pulling you into a hug as you continued to laugh. Your eyes shut, and despite Johnny's cold, damp clothes pressing against your cold, damp clothes, it still warmed your chest. The two of you stood together for a while, enjoying each other's embrace. His chin rested on your head, and you sighed happily. Johnny gave good hugs.

"Uhh, Agent Suh?"

Johnny and you broke away immediately. Johnny cleared his throat."Uhh, yes, Donghyuck?"Amy and Donghyuck exchanged a glance from the office doorway. "Uh, my mom said she'll be here soon. A-and I saw some police lights across the street, so…"

"Oh." Johnny straightened his tie. "Thank you."

A few seconds later, the sound of sirens came into proximity. You took a look at these two kids, and despite the stress they'd caused you, you felt an odd fondness in your heart. 

“Come on, you two," Johnny murmured, "Time to go."

X-FILE 229-B: THE SAN CEFERINO SHIFTER

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—07:08 hours, Wednesday, July 6th, 1994

On this particular summer morning, you were enjoying the air conditioner for as long as you could wait. You'd be flying to San Ceferino, California, twenty minutes outside of San Francisco. 

The assignment was at a gated community where three women had been found dead within the span of three weeks. You and Johnny would be sent in to investigate due to a strange, unidentifiable residue being found on the bodies. A local detective had contacted the bureau for help.

The kicker? For some reason, due to some sensitivities of having their community "invaded" the head of the community had requested you be placed undercover.

So what was the bureau's idea? "Moving" you and Johnny into the community, posing as a newlywed couple. 

Yikes.

This seemed like a bad idea to you, but you didn't say anything. Because if you spoke up to your superiors, they'd ask why, and you'd be forced to explain. 

"I got the flight tickets and our fake profiles!" Johnny entered your shared office, causing you to look up from the case file.

"Oh, nice. Who are we?"

He curled his lip, making a face. "Whoever makes up these names should be demoted, I swear to god. My name is Fox. Fox Kang. Who the hell names their kid Fox—"

You stifled a laugh as you grabbed the file from him, flipping to yours. Dana Baker. A bit ordinary, but the more inconspicuous, the better, you figured. 

"God, I kind of don't want to go," You hummed, "It's hot enough as it is here in Washington. I don't wanna imagine the California heat."

"Well, suck it up," He said, but he didn't sound dismissive. "We're leaving in three hours. We still have to pick up our undercover wardrobe and get to the airport, y'know?"

Frowning at the profile, you nodded half-heartedly. It stated that your backstory was that of college sweethearts at Cornell in the 80s. He was class of 1984, you of 1986. You were moving to California two months after getting married, because "Fox" got a job offer just outside of San Francisco. 

"You're staring at that paper like you're Nancy Kerrigan and it just broke your knee," Johnny pointed out, "You okay?"

"Huh?" You looked at him, swallowing. "Oh… yeah. I'm fine. I'm just a bit… unsure about the whole marriage thing." 

Johnny shrugged, offering an amused smile. "Really, Y/N. We've been working together for two years and you still find me that unbearable?"

You laughed, standing and circling your desk to stand in front of him. "No, not at all. I'm just not the best when it comes to undercover work."

Johnny leaned against the desk, smiling sympathetically. "Well, I'm no Tom Hanks either. But if you think about it, we spend all our time together anyway. It's not that big of a stretch to say we might as well be."

"We definitely argue like one," You fired back. You both laughed, simply staring at each other in silence once it quieted down. Johnny's eyes studied you up and down, dark eyes warm. He was wearing his glasses today. 

You wondered if he was judging your outfit, because he did that sometimes with other people. Apparently, before he became interested in criminal psychology he'd wanted to become a fashion designer, or so he told you. Six months later after he'd told you that and you still weren't sure if he was joking or not.

"What are you looking at?" You asked. He shook his head. 

"...Nothing. Let's get going?"

The two of you picked up your faux suitcases—the bureau had a department full of fake clothes for agents going undercover needing to fit a certain persona. The two of you were nothing close to the white picket fence suburban life, so you were better off picking up some fake clothes.

You laughed when you saw the first outfit Johnny had been given. A pastel yellow LaCoste polo shirt, and grayish blue dress shorts. He glowered at you when he saw your face.

"Oh, yeah, very funny."

Your outfit wasn't much better. High rise, light wash jeans and another polo, this one bright red, a pair of dark red casual loafers to match. Johnny didn't laugh, but it was clear he was trying not to.

You decided to sleep on the plane. There wasn't a lot to look over, as you'd received the file the night before. By now, you knew the drill. 

You dreamt you were back in that hotel room in Oregon. Johnny was kneeling beneath you, but you still hadn't taken your robe off. He was saying something, but you couldn't understand what. His eyes were full of a warm emotion that you couldn't quite place.

Until he raised his arms to try and remove the robe. This time, when he spoke, you could hear him clearly. "This is what you wanted me to do, right?"

Your hands grabbed his. "What? Johnny, I… Well…" 

He stood, face impossibly close to yours. There was an odd smile on his face. "Don't worry," He murmured. "I want to, too."

Slowly, your hands let go of his and he began to pull off the robe. You didn’t protest. When you were bare, his hands slid to the skin of your waist, and he pulled you against him. His forehead pressed against yours.

"Johnny, are you sure?"

"Y/N," He said with a smile, "We are beginning our descent into LAX. Please put on your seatbelts and put up your trays."

You jumped awake in your seat, eyes impossibly wide. A laugh from beside you caused you to turn your head. Johnny was giggling into his palm. 

"What?" You asked, voice raspy from sleeping. 

"Oh my god, that was beautiful," He declared, "You were sleeping so peacefully and then, oh my god, that was hilarious."

"Ha, ha, ha." Your tone was devoid of any emotion. You rubbed your eyes, yawning slightly. "What time is it, here?"

"Three hour time difference. It's one PM." 

You nodded. And you still had a six hour car ride. Lovely. 

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE I-5, CALIFORNIA—15:22, Wednesday, July 6th, 1994

"Couldn't they have just flown us to San Francisco and have us drive from there?" Johnny complained after being cut off by yet another car. 

You sighed. "Budget cuts, I guess. We're not infiltrating the mafia, or taking down human trafficking rings."

"Yeah, we just fight the boogeyman and the little green men," He agreed. You laughed. 

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we hadn't gotten assigned together?" He sounded wistful, not taking his eyes off of the road. 

"I don't know." You picked at a loose thread on your jeans. "I would probably still be teaching at the academy. I think Brooks was considering placing you with Jung if I wasn't up for it."

"Jaehyun Jung?" He turned his head, making a face. "Really? He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," You insisted, "He just thinks like me, science before all, except… less nice about it."

"You sure?" He asked, fiddling with the radio, "Every time we're in a room together, I catch him staring at me like he's trying to shoot lasers into my head, the prick."

You shrugged. "He's nice to me."

"That's just 'cause he's trying to get into your pants."

You hummed. Jaehyun was pretty handsome. "Would that be such a bad thing?" 

He coughed, shrugging. "Well, it's your love life. You do you."

The air turned awkward. Johnny fiddled with the radio, but in this particular stretch of the interstate, all that came up was a Latin beats radio. Trumpets, and soft snare drums filled the car. You immediately recognized Selena's Bidi Bidi Bom Bom, a song about a girl realizing her heart went crazy whenever her lover passed by—while you didn’t listen to a lot of Latin music, you had a friend who did and always played this song when you met up.

Me tiemblan hasta las piernas

Y el corazon igual

Se emociona, ya no razona

No lo puedo controlar

"Oh, I hate this song," Johnny mumbled, reaching to turn the radio off.

"No, wait! I like it." You pushed his hand away. He groaned, but didn't turn it off. 

Y me canta así, me canta así…

Bidi bidi bom bom, bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

So, the two of you continued on listening to Selena, Johnny silently pouting. 

"So, what were you dreaming about on the plane?"

"Huh?" You cleared your throat.

"Yeah, you said my name in your sleep."

You shifted in your seat. "Oh… Um. I can't even remember."

He hummed, but didn't say anything. The drive continued on, both of you alternating between discussing mundane things and the case. All of them had been found in their homes, with no sign of a struggle—which suggested they knew their assailant. They'd all been strangled to death. No odd fingerprints could be recovered from the crime scenes. 

The first victim lived alone. The other two's husbands had solid alibis that were confirmed by the police. 

Which meant that it had to be someone in the neighborhood. There was reportedly a strong sense of community there, which was part of why the bureau had you going undercover. 

Around six, the two of you rolled into San Francisco, for a brief stop to talk to the detective who had contacted the bureau, a woman named Wendy Son. 

The two of you rolled into the precinct, and upon showing your badges, were prompted to the woman’s office. She had her light brown hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a black pantsuit similar to what you would wear, had you not been dressed like a soccer mom.

"Oh, thank you for coming," She said once you sat down. "I have some extra material here that I wasn't able to fax you."

She pulled out a folder, setting it in front of you on the desk. Johnny opened it to reveal more images you hadn't initially seen. 

"We sent the sample to Los Angeles because their laboratory has a higher capacity," She told you both, "They still weren't able to identify it, but apparently it apparently has an a mild tranquilizing enzyme. That might also be why there wasn't much of a struggle." 

Johnny hummed. "There aren't any cameras in San Ceferino, are there?" 

Detective Son shook her head. "Only around the perimeter and the gates." 

"Maybe there's something there," You said, "Could we have access to those tapes?"

She looked back down at the pictures. "I could certainly get it to you by tomorrow afternoon, though. Come in past two and I should have it by then."

Johnny nodded and smiled at her. "That would be great, thank you." 

She smiled, and you'd have to be blind to not notice the blush on her face. She handed him the keys to the house that the heads of the community had arranged to have semi-furnished ahead of your arrival. The rest would be arriving tomorrow in the morning, during which time you would go through the motions of being a newlywed couple moving into their “forever home”.

Johnny apparently was blind, though. He didn't say anything about it once you were both back in the car. You couldn't really blame her. 

Johnny was… well, he was Johnny. He was incredibly handsome, and funny. Any reasonable person interested in men would find him attractive. 

"Detective Son likes you," You told him as you were getting onto the road that led to San Ceferino.

"Does she?" He answered, smiling smugly. "She's pretty."

You don't know why that ignited something in you. "You think so?"

He nodded. "She seems nice. But I'm not interested."

The odd sensation in your chest simmered down. "No?"

"Not really. I'm not interested in something long distance. Plus, I work too much to have a relationship."

You nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

You arrived as the sun was setting, around seven. The two of you pulled into the gate to the place, where you introduced yourselves with your fake names to the guard. He checked his roster of approved people and let you both in. 

San Ceferino consisted of four different cul de sacs, each house practically identical. The house you would be staying in was towards the end of the second one. The house was a pale pastel yellow, orange rays of the sunset making it seem a deeper color. Your car rolled into “your” driveway, and with a sigh of relief, Johnny turned the car off. 

“I’m so tired,” He groaned, “Should we try and introduce ourselves today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” You said, letting your head fall back against the headrest, “These people are probably all having dinner or something, it’d be weird for us to do that now.”

He nodded, and got out of the car to open the trunk. You got out to grab your suitcase, and as you were getting out you realized that just maybe the universe disagreed with your decision to wait to meet others around the neighborhood.

A woman was crossing the street. She seemed a bit older than you both but was still dressed almost identically. You walked over to Johnny, who had his back turned, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Fox,” You mumbled, “We’ve got company.”

He turned, and upon spotting the woman flashed a comically fake smile. You offered the friendliest smile you could muster, but the way her eyes lit up when doing a once over of Johnny and then drooping in disappointment once she spotted you. If she thought she was subtle, she was dead wrong.

“Hi,” She said, impossibly enthusiastic, “I’m Anne Morrison. I’m the head of the Homeowners Association.”

You nodded in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you,” You said, holding out your hand, “I’m Dana. This is… my husband, Fox.”

“Fox,” She repeated, turning to look at Johnny, “That’s a lovely name. So, what brings you two to San Ceferino?”

“Oh, I got a job offer in San Francisco a few months ago,” Johnny answered. He was good, you decided. “We looked at some houses in the city, but it’s so busy there, you know? We were living in Maryland, so the transition between small town and big city… it’s not for us.”

She nodded, eyes wide. “I absolutely understand. My ex-husband wanted to move to the city now that our kids are in college. I don’t enjoy any of the hustle and bustle, really.” She chuckled, “So guess who got the house in the divorce!”

You and Johnny exchanged a glance, then laughed as if it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. “Oh, my goodness,” You wheezed, clutching your hand in your chest, “I can imagine!”

“So, what do you two do?”

“I’m an architect,” Johnny said.

“I’m a publicist.” You scratched at your cheek when you felt a mosquito try to land. Her eyes zeroed in on your hand.

“You two are married, right?” She asked, “How come you’re not wearing your rings?”

You froze. Did the bureau even have fake jewelry? Why didn’t either of you think of that detail?

“Oh,” Johnny shrugged, coming to the rescue. “It’s so stressful having to take everything on and off at the airport, so we decided not to wear them today. Right, honey?”

He wrapped his hand around your waist, and you nodded. “I never wear jewelry when I’m on a plane. Too much hassle.”

She nodded, mouth slightly agape. “Oh, I see.”

Johny cleared his throat. “What do you work as?”

She grinned. “I’m a chemist.”

“I hated chemistry in high school,” Johnny groaned jokingly. Anne apparently thought this was hilarious, swatting his arm. He laughed again, but it was empty, awkward. You leaned your head against his shoulder in hopes that she'd get the message. 

“Well, Anne, it was lovely meeting you,” You declared, “But we’ve been awake since five in the morning travelling. We’re exhausted, we really should be getting inside.”

Anne sighed, eyes turning away from studying Johnny’s face to you. “Oh, go ahead. You two must be so tired.”

Johnny nodded, pursing his lips. “We’ll speak soon?”

She smiled. “There’s an HOA meeting on Friday night at another member's house. You should come and see what we’re all about, consider joining.”

"Swing by tomorrow!" You grinned, "You can tell us the details then."

"Of course, of course. Well, I'll leave you two to it. It was nice meeting you, Dana." She raked her eyes over Johnny one more time, "...Fox."

When she was out of earshot, Johnny pulled the suitcases out of the trunk and scrunched up his nose. "That was... awkward."

Your hand pulled up the extendable handle of the suitcase, looking back at her to see her close the door to her house, which was at the very end of the cul de sac. 

You looked back at him. "So, a chemist. And she's involved with the community, everyone probably knows who she is."

He shrugged before closing the trunk. "Let's keep an eye on her. She gives me the creeps."

The two of you made sure the car was locked before making your way towards the front door. He fiddled with the keys

"She might even have a motive," He said, as you stepped inside. "Ah, c'mon, aren't you gonna let me carry you over the threshold?"

"Not the time," You said, picking up your suitcase to carry it to the bedroom. "We were talking about a motive. Evidently, she likes looking at… married men. If it's her, she might be doing it out of jealousy."

"Exactly," He agreed, following you up the stairs. "Maybe there's something else at play—jealousy or something. how old were the other victims?" 

"Between 25 and 35. She didn't say how old she was, did she?" You rolled into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and immediately flopping down onto it. Johnny rolled past your room, looking for the separate bed the bureau had said would be there as well.

"Finally," You sighed with a smile. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stifled a yawn. For a second, you considered falling asleep just like this, uncomfortable jeans be damned. 

"Y/N?" 

You cracked your eyes open, frowning at Johnny who was standing in the doorway. "What?" 

"There's only one bed."

You almost stopped breathing for a moment. "Huh?" 

He shuffled on his feet. "There's only one bed," He said, speaking slower.

"What do you mean there's only one bed?" You sat up.

Johnny sighed. "I mean there's only one bed." 

"But the bureau said—"

"Well, the bureau lied," He interrupted, "Because there's no other bed."

You  crossed your arms. "I could take the couch."

"That's supposed to get here tomorrow." 

"Oh," You frowned. What were you going to do? 

"I mean, I could sleep on the floor," You said, "So that way we don't have to sleep, you know…"

"Together?" He offered.

"In the same bed," You corrected, turning your face. It felt hot all of a sudden. 

"No, I couldn't do that to you." He set his suitcase next to yours, then sat next to you. "The bed seems big enough. I'm sure we'll be fine."

You were too tired to argue further. "Sure…" You didn't sound too convinced. 

"Great," He sighed, "I just gotta tell you. I snore a bit."

KANG-BAKER RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—08:43 hours, Thursday, July 7th, 1994

That night, surprisingly, you slept like a baby. You initially thought you'd overthink it all with Johnny lying right next to you but… it was comforting, knowing he was there. You hadn't slept next to anyone since you were 26.

Life as an FBI agent was demanding. Because of this, you'd given up on the idea of having a meaningful relationship ages ago. And due to the nature of your work, it was easy to throw yourself into it to drown out the desire to have someone to come home to. The fact that whenever you did get free time, if you spent too much of it alone… 

But now, lying awake in the morning, seeing Johnny's sleeping face curled up into his pillow… You remembered. 

He looked peaceful. Even at 33, like this he barely looked a day past 27. You could make out the details on his face, old acne scars and the occasional mole. The smile lines along his cheeks and the corners of his eyes… maybe in another lifetime, another universe, you could have gotten used to—

No. You shot up, heading towards the en suite to go to the bathroom. You were still sleepy, that was all. The time difference between Washington and California was having second effects. 

You pulled down your pants, blinking sleepily, and promptly had a heart attack when you sat down. Your knees barely missed your nose, your stomach dropped, and a shriek tumbled out of your lips before you could even register what was happening. 

Standing, now wide awake, you had half a mind to pull up your pants as Johnny tumbled into the bathroom, eyes wide in alarm.

"What happened?" He asked, voice raspy from disuse. You didn’t answer, but instead stared at the offending lifted toilet seat until he got the message. 

"Oh…" His face turned awkward, lips tilting from side to side. "I got up a few hours ago. I must have forgotten to put it back down, sorry." 

You didn't answer, yawning instead. He shrugged. "I've never… lived with another woman before, so…"

"Never?"

His eyes looked down. "...Never."

"Not even with that ex-girlfriend from Oxford you told me about?"

"Mary? No."

You held back an amused grin. "Johnny, when was the last time you even went on a date?" 

He pursed his lips. "I… am starving. Do you want me to go to the supermarket to pick something up for breakfast?"

You blinked, putting your hands on your hips. 

"...Breakfast sounds great."

Johnny promptly changed and left while you got into the shower. Once you were out, you brushed your teeth, did your general morning routine and waited for the car to roll back into the driveway, doing a quick background check on Anne in the meantime. 

No criminal record whatsoever, but that didn't automatically discard her from your list. Mostly because she was the only one on it, so far. 

Johnny rolled back into the driveway just before 9:20. You helped him take the bags into the kitchen, when he said, "Think fast!" and tossed you a small box.

"What's this?" You asked, opening the box. You sputtered at the sight: two simple gold bands. He looked at you like you were a moron.

"Wedding rings," He said, plucking one of the rings out from the box, "Hopefully so Anne lays off."

"You didn't have to go out and buy actual—"

"It's fake gold." He waved his hand dismissively, sitting down at the island and slathering an ungodly amount of cream cheese across a bagel. 

You settled on some coffee after hesitating to put on the ring. As you were finishing up, a knock at the door caught your attention. You looked at him, and he shrugged. "Moving van won't be here till 10:30."

So, you sighed, but still headed to the door. Johnny followed behind, second bagel in hand. When you swung the door open, you were met with Anne and a man you hadn't met yet. A wide Cheshire grin was plastered onto her face.

"Dana, hi!" She greeted. Her eyes landed on Johnny. "Good morning, Fox."

"Morning, Anne," You said with a nod, catching her attention again. You turned your eyes onto the man and held out your hand. "Hi, I'm Dana."

He shook your hand with a friendly smile. "My name's Scott Hernandez. I'm on the HOA board."

Johnny walked up to the door, putting a hand on your shoulder. "I'm Fox," He said, face speckled with crumbs and mouth full of food. You wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Hey, man," Scott said, eyeing Johnny, "Uh… Welcome to the neighborhood!"

"So," Anne asked, eyes raking over Johnny's chest, "How was the first night?"

Johnny swallowed his bagel before speaking. "It was lovely. We just snuggled up together and slept like little baby cats." He turned to you, eyes warm. "Isn't that right, honey bunch?"

Your neck snapped to look at him, holding back a look of disgust. "That's right…" You racked your brain for something sweet to call him and a moment later came up with, "...Poopy head."

Poopy head? Nice one, L/N.

Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, but neither Scott nor Anne seemed to notice. You flashed them both a bright grin. "So! Would you like to come in?"

Scott and Anne nodded. "That'd be great, thanks," He said. You led them into the dining room, where Johnny managed an awkward laugh. "Sorry it's such a mess, we just got up about an hour ago and I immediately went to the supermarket."

"Oh, don't worry, Fox," Scott hummed, sitting at the island, "Moving is so stressful. Especially with…"

Anne flashed him a dirty look. You raised an eyebrow at the interaction. "With what?" You asked, tilting your head as you feigned innocence. Anne sighed, shaking her head.

"Three women have been… murdered over the past few weeks." Scott looked down. "Police haven't been able to catch who's responsible."

"That's horrible," Johnny murmured, standing next to you. "Did you know them?"

"We know everyone because of our HOA responsibilities," Scott answered, "I wasn't that close to any of them, but they were all very nice women. It's awful, what happened to them. You knew Yolanda, didn't you, Anne?"

She nodded, eyes glassy. "Her son and mine used to play together. She was such a nice woman. Lovely family, too. It just breaks my heart." 

"I'm sorry for your loss," You told her. She offered a sad smile.

"But what, is it someone from the community or what?"

Anne shrugged, eyes full of concern. "The police don't really know, but it would make sense if they were from the community—"

"It couldn't possibly be someone living here," Scott huffed, "Everyone knows everyone, why would someone want to—"

"Scott is just in denial," Anne said, waving her hand. "Did you two really not know?"

"Not at all," Johnny replied, eyes wide with fake worry, "These past few weeks have been so hectic we barely had time to sit down. Right, honey?"

You groaned, partially putting up an act and partially in disgust at the name. "It's been a nightmare!" 

You made up some problems, like a crappy travel agency, yard sales, things going missing, stuff like that. Johnny occasionally chimed in, embellishing your stories. Occasionally, Anne or Scott would ask a question, and Johnny would answer with something he pulled out of his ass. 

"So that's why Fox isn't allowed coffee, anymore," You said a few minutes later, rolling your eyes. Scott was cackling, Anne giggling into her palm. Johnny glared at you, but there was no malice behind it. 

"But anyway, I'm guessing you two didn't come here to hear about how anxious I get with caffeine." Johnny turned to the pair. "What brings you to the... Kang-Baker residence?"

"Oh, we came to talk to you about joining the Homeowner's Association," Anne explained, "Not everyone in the neighborhood is a part of it, but it's very convenient to join." 

They laid down the basics, and as they talked, you realized just how much you appreciated living in an apartment rather than a house. Yes, it was a bit small at times, definitely not as idyllic, but 300 dollars as an initiation fee, and monthly payments of 150 dollars? You had half a mind to call the bureau and tell them that the real crime was the extortion from the Homeowner's Association. 

You didn't really see any advantages—probably because you didn't even own this house and wouldn't have to worry about selling it later. It just sounded like a nightmare. What did they mean you could only paint your doors pastel colors if you joined?

When they finally left, you looked at Johnny. "Maybe I'm not cut out for the American dream after all. That HOA stuff sounds even worse than the time we got attacked by the flesh eating virus."

He held back a laugh. "That bad, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, this is much more irritating. The moving van will be here any second, come on, let's go."

127TH PRECINCT, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA—14:29 hours, Thursday, July 7th, 1994

After unloading the furniture boxes (empty boxes with nothing really in them), you and Johnny settled on lunch—some crappy junk food—and drove all the way to the police station where Detective Son worked. 

"What did you think about that Scott guy?" You asked Johnny, who shrugged. 

"Seemed nice enough. We'd have to look into him too, since he's also involved in the community."

You nodded. "I'll run a background check once we get h—back to the house."

He glanced at you, but said nothing. "...What are you doing once this is over?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What, once we get back to DC?"

He nodded. "Well, yeah."

You stared ahead at the car in front of you. "Oh, well… I'm not sure. Probably finish writing that stupid report for Brooks and then curl up on my couch, watch some movies, drink some wine. I don't know."

He snickered. "What, and watch Pretty Woman for the 700th time?"

Smacking him in the shoulder lightly, you huffed. "Which is no better than watching Full Metal Jacket 700 times, and you know it, Johnny Suh."

He shrugged. "Well, if sex on a piano is what does it for you then who am I to judge?"

"Shut up." You rolled down the window, the heat too much to handle. 

When you finally got to see Detective Son again, she handed you the cassette and made her way towards the door. When she spoke, she looked only at you. "I'm actually headed out to check out another call we got just now," She explained, "But feel free to use the VCR in my office to look it all over."

She left, not even looking Johnny in the eye. You turned to Johnny, who was wide-eyed. 

"And you said she likes me."

In her office, you went over several days' worth of sped up hours of footage of six different camera angles. By the third hour of watching sped up, grainy footage, Johnny huffed. "I don't think we'll get anything," He said, "Especially considering the killer didn't even need to break their way in—"

"Hold on, hold on." You shook your head, eyes zeroing in on a dark shape in one of the cameras. You walked up to the VCR machine and hit the rewind button.

"Watch camera six."

He narrowed his eyes, fixing his glasses as he watched the dark shape run out from the treeline and up the wall, then out of the camera's view—presumably inside the community. You rewinded one last time, pausing just as it leaped onto the wall.

"There."

"That's too big to be a cat," He murmured, standing to get a closer look at the grainy black and white still image, "Right?"

"Could be a big cat—bobcat or a lynx, maybe, but…"

"It's movements are too… jerky for it to be a cat."

You hesitated, before nodding. 

"Could this be the thing we're looking for?" Johnny asked, and you crossed your arms, giving the dark blob a skeptical look.

"Looks like we have some digging to do."

One more hour of poring over the footage, plus another hour of looking at the archives of the police department turned up nothing on big cats in the area. There'd been no calls to 911 to report big cats in the neighborhood, and looking over the tape again showed nothing else, not even the thing leaving.

Which made Johnny’s theory that it was still there weigh even more.

By 7:30PM or so, Detective Son had returned. "I brought coffee," She said, entering the small space, "Find anything?"

You shrugged. Johnny looked at her. "We saw a weird blob go inside. It never came out and we couldn't figure out what it was."

She frowned. "There haven't been any reports of wild animals there in years. Not since that huge military base opened up."

Johnny's eyebrows knit together. "Army base?"

She nodded. "Fort Talbot. It's about fifteen minutes west of San Ceferino. There aren't a lot of roads that lead to it, they're pretty private."

You locked eyes with Johnny, who was probably thinking the same thing as you. Military base? That was new.

 “I don’t suppose you could take us to see it?”

She shrugged, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, we could try, but there’s a fence around the perimeter about a mile or two away from the actual base. They’re not gonna let you in.”

“No, we’re not military,” You sighed. “But thank you for telling us about that.”

SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—20:44 hours, Thursday, February 12th, 1993

When the car rolled into the driveway, the two of you had found that Anne was at your front door. You shot each other a quizzical look when she turned at the sight of your headlights. “What’s the cougar doing here?” He sighed, and you elbowed him.

“Hush. Be nice.”

She reached the car once you’d both stepped out. “Oh, I was wondering where you two were! I wanted to invite you over to have dinner. The spinach quiche I made was a bit too big for just me!”

At the mention of the meal, your stomach panged in hunger. All you’d had since you left the house was that coffee Wendy had given you. Plus…

Johnny seemed to read your mind. “We’re starving. Quiche sounds great, thanks so much, Anne.”

She beamed at his praise. “Oh, come on! Wouldn’t want it to get cold.”

Anne took the both of you into her house, leading you to the dinner table where she’d already set up spots for the both of you. “It’s not too much, is it? I’m sorry if I’m being overbearing. I really do want you to ease into the neighborhood, and plus, living in this big old empty house gets… lonely.”

As you sat down, you frowned in sympathy. You watched as she began to slice the quiche for you both. “Don’t worry, Anne. I understand where you’re coming from. It’s so lonely in my—or, it was so lonely in my apartment before Fox and I met. Sure, you can distract yourself during the day with all of the stuff you have to do, but at the end of the day you come home to… nothing.”

She handed Johnny a plate, and he took it. “There you go, Fox.”

He smiled, handing the plate to you. “Thank you.”

Her eyes followed his hand, and blinked when she spotted the ring on his hand. “Oh, I see you have your rings now.”

Johnny’s smile grew into a grin, as he held out his hand, flashing the band around his ring finger. You did the same. “No more pesky metal detectors,” He declared, “So why not?”

Anne nodded, eyes lowered. She handed him another plate, then served herself. And then, finally, you all started eating. It occurred to you as you took your first bite that if she was she easily could have laced the food with whatever was in those women’s systems when they died. But that would be too different from the killer’s modus operandi. They only went for women and they killed them in their home. Autopsies didn’t find anything recent in their stomachs at the time of death, so you concluded to take a bite. 

Besides, it smelled good. If you were going to die, then it would be nice to die by the hands of some good quiche.

“So,” You began, “You said your kids were off at college?” 

She nodded, digging around her food with a fork. “My oldest is in grad school at USC. He’s currently in South America doing research on bats, or something, I really can’t remember. My second is off backpacking for the summer, she’s graduating from UCLA next year, and my youngest left for college two years ago. He managed to get a full scholarship to Duke, can you believe it?”

You smiled, nodding. “Wow, that’s impressive.” 

She sounded proud, but there was a sadness behind her gaze. “It’s hard, it really is. Especially trying not to worry. They rarely call and only come home during the holidays. Drives me up the wall not knowing what my kids are up to!”

Johnny laughed. “My mom was the same when I went to college. My freshman year she called me once every day. My roommates always made fun of me for it.”

She chuckled. “Oh, that’s how all moms are,” She turned to you, “I imagine it’ll be the same when you two have kids.”

You almost choked on the food in your mouth at her words. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny go white. Somehow, you managed to hold it back, hitting your chest lightly as the food made its way down. “Oh, well… it’s a bit early for that, I think.”

“We only got married six months ago…” Johnny murmured awkwardly. 

“Oh, I totally get it,” She said, “But, y´know, accidents happen. Especially when you’re still in the honeymoon phase after the wedding. I had my first less than a year after we were married, we weren’t even trying!”

You chewed on your lip. “Well, if something happens…” You met eyes with Johnny, whose gaze was unreadable, “Something happens.”

Not looking away, Johnny licked his lips subtly, before picking up a napkin. Anne didn’t notice, surprisingly, and seemed satisfied with your answer.

You ate a little bit more, when Anne asked, “So, tell me, how did you two meet?”

Remembering the file, Johnny perked up. “We met at a party in college. I was in my junior year, I think? Right, honey?”

You shook your head. “Your senior year,” You corrected, “Because I was in my sophomore year. I remember it like it was yesterday. He came up to me and was wearing this horrible button up shirt—”

“You ended up stealing it from me!” He joked, and you held up your index finger.

 “I use it to sleep. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that in public. Much less to attract a mate.”

Anne cackled, and the two of you laughed too. Again, you managed to make up a story: he was drunk and accidentally spilled some punch on your pants. He’d tried to help you by washing it in the bathroom but only made it worse.

“When I got back to my dorm, it was around three in the morning, my leg was sticky and I was miserable, but we ran into each other a few days later and he was very apologetic about the whole thing.”

“I was mortified,” He said, “I mean, here’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life and I managed to screw it up by ruining her pants. I was so sure I’d screwed up.”

Anne raised her eyebrows. “So, you knew from the start that you liked her?”

Johnny’s eyes landed on you again, turning wistful. He leaned over and grabbed your free hand. “The moment I first laid my eyes on her, I knew. She was the one.”

You tried to smile, but suddenly your chest felt like it was caving in on yourself. You let your hand rest in his for a moment, before pulling away. “Oh, Fox. Don’t get all sentimental on me now.”

Clearing your throat, you didn’t miss the way Johnny’s eyes fell slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, where’s your bathroom?”

She pointed up. “Upstairs to the right.”

This was your chance to get some dirt on her, and put some space between you and Johnny. As you walked away, you touched a hand to your cheek and it came away burning. 

“Get it together,” You muttered to yourself.

The quick search yielded nothing. She had nothing in her drawers, all of the papers on her desk were related to her work at a hair care company. You always could have missed something though. You couldn’t take more than a few minutes, you certainly couldn’t risk her coming up to check on you and finding you sifting through her work documents.

Before you came down, you did your best to leave everything as you found it before heading back downstairs. 

When you sat back down at the table, things were a bit more tense. You sensed it immediately. “Everything alright?”

“...Yeah,” Johnny mumbled. 

“Fox and I were just talking about how… difficult marriage can be.”

You nodded, wondering if that was all that had happened. “Oh, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure.”

The rest of the dinner was not as lively. There were more awkward silences, more lulls in the conversation, less laughs. When you finally left, his elbow intertwined in yours, you looked at him. “What happened while I was gone?”

He shook his head as you both crossed the street. “I don’t like her,” He told you in a hushed voice, “She started talking about how it won’t be like this forever and it’s only fun now because we just got married or whatever.”

“What, was she trying to open something up between you and her?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t exactly been subtle, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she was.”

The two of you marched up into your house, and while Johnny was showering you did a background check on Scott Hernandez. Nothing also. A perfectly ordinary citizen, no criminal record at all. 

Then, it was your turn to shower. As you did, you couldn’t help but think back to Anne’s words. The whole situation, feigning domesticity was proving to be bad for you: you couldn’t help but imagine a small child with his wide eyes and your nose, his lanky limbs and your hands. 

The amount of time you put into your work made you fully aware that it would make having children difficult. Truth be told, you hadn’t really put much thought into settling down. The right person had never been there.

But what if he had? What if he’d been by your side for the past three years?

He had to be putting on an act when he’d said it.

The moment I first laid my eyes on her, I knew. She was the one.

Thinking back to the moment you’d first met him, and he’d come across as slightly patronizing and dismissive of your conclusions. But thinking about when he’d first turned to look at you, that particular morning in 1992…

You turned off the shower. Alone time wasn’t doing you any good, either.

When you emerged from the shower, you sighed as your eyes landed on the toilet seat, which was lifted. You set it back down with a huff before getting dressed.

Once you stepped out of the bathroom in your pajamas, toweling your hair, your eyes fell to the pile of dirty clothes on the bed. “Please don’t put your sweaty clothes, where I have to sleep,” You told him, tossing the clothes into his face. He let out a soft groan, picking them up. 

“Oh, come on,” He grumbled, “They don’t even smell that bad.”

After he set them off somewhere (you didn’t see where as you were shutting your laptop off), he sat back down on the bed, leaving a space open for you. "So, what if we looked into Scott tomorrow?"

“That sounds like a good idea. Tomorrow night there’s that HOA thing we need to go to. We might be able to pick up some more stuff there.”

He nodded, and as you stood in front of the bed he waggled his eyebrows and patted the spot next to you. “Come on, Dana,” He murmured sarcastically, “We’re married now.”

You didn’t smile. He took that as a sign to continue. 

“Plus, if something happens, something happens.”

You grabbed a pillow and flung it into his face. “You’re the worst,” You grumbled. He laughed, but it was muffled from the pillow.

Slowly but surely, you realized with the sound of his laughter, this feeling was soon going to become something you couldn’t ignore.

HERNANDEZ RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—09:02 hours, Friday, July 13th, 1994

When the door opened, Scott Hernandez had a welcoming smile on his face. “Dana,” He said, “Good morning. Did you need anything?”

“Oh, I just wanted to ask if there was an official guidebook or anything for the HOA? Fox and I are still considering joining, but we’d need to go over everything.” You scratched at the cardigan you were wearing. Why did the bureau have to give you something so thick and scratchy when they knew you were coming to California in the middle of July?

“Come in! I’m sure I have a rulebook. Plus, if you have any other questions you could always just come over.”

He led you up the stairs. “I keep all of my stuff in the office,” He explained, “That way my kids don’t mess it all up.”

You offered a soft laugh. “Oh, you have kids?”

“Yep.” His voice was warm. “Two kids, a nine year old and a six year old. They’re not here right now, though. My wife took them up to Washington to see their grandparents.”

“Ah, that’s sweet.” As he led you into the office, your eyes studied the room. A picture frame behind him of a professional family portrait, a houseplant in the corner a big clunky computer on top of the desk, and a cabinet pushed to the side of the room.

Your eyes fell onto the things placed on top of the cabinet, a stapler and some other office supplies. But when your eyes caught a different type of metal that wasn’t the standard gray color, you focused on it. A small medallion, decorated with a ribbon. When you recognized the logo, your eyes widened slightly.

“You’re military?” 

His eyes turned to you, eyebrows raised. Then he looked to the side. “Oh… no. My brother was. He passed away in the Gulf War.”

You looked down, but something about his tone didn’t sound quite authentic. “I’m sorry for your loss,” You answered anyway. 

The silence hung overhead for a few moments, before he pulled out a small booklet. “Here’s a copy of the rulebook.” He held it up, waving it back and forth, “This has pretty much everything.”

“Oh, really?” You straightened your posture, feigning a smile. When he handed it to you, your smile grew bigger as you looked down at the small book. “I’ll be sure to show Fox when he gets home. I really appreciate it, Scott.”

He waved his hand. “Don’t mention it. If you need anything else, just come on over. I work from home, so I’m here pretty much all day.”

Scott studied your face, and a second later you looked away. “So, I should get going,” You murmured. “I’ll see you tonight? I don’t think nor you nor Anne said where it would be.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Here, actually! Tonight, at 7.” 

“Great,” You answered, “I’ll see you tonight.”

When you got back to the house, you walked to the office, where Johnny was waiting. “Hernandez has military links.”

His head shot up. “He does?” 

“There was a military medallion on his cabinet in his office. He looked like he was gonna piss himself when I asked about it.”

“And what did he say?”

“Said his brother was a Gulf War veteran. I didn’t believe him for a second.”

“So could he be our guy?”

You took a deep breath. “Honestly? I don’t know. I could try to look through his office tonight at the HOA thing.”

“You?” He shook his head vehemently. “You fit his profile. All of his victims were around your age. You’re not going somewhere you could be alone with him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then what?” 

He looked at you as if you were dumb. “I’ll go.”

“But—”

“No.” His gaze turned stern, before walking all the way up to you. He put his hands up on your shoulders. “Y/N, he could kill you.”

“Has that ever stopped me before?” You asked, tilting your head. “Johnny, it’s in the job description to deal with people who could kill me. What’s so different now?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His eyes were wide, urgent, and his face was inches away. You shook your head, trying to prompt him to speak. “What?” 

Johnny pursed his lips, studying your face. And then, finally he shook his head. “Nothing.” 

He stepped away, and left the office, leaving you speechless. You leaned against the desk thinking about what just happened.

For the rest of the day, he was relatively distant. During lunch—you went out to buy some sandwiches—and he barely said thank you, before you ate in tense silence. You could only wait until 7 o’clock rolled around. In the meantime, you placed a call to Detective Son, telling her to look into Scott Hernandez and his family. You typed up the rest of your preliminary report, and then all you could do was wait. 

When five thirty rolled around, you started to get ready. You took only about five minutes, before stepping out, fully dressed. When you stepped out of the bathroom, Johnny had his back turned to you. It was almost as if he hadn’t noticed you were right behind him, because he was humming softly to himself, tapping his foot to a non audible melody. You could hear him humming it though, and after a few seconds of listening. you were able to recognize the song.

He froze when he heard your giggling. “What?” He asked, turning his head.

“Is… is that Bidi Bidi Bom Bom?” You asked, leaning against the wall. He straightened his posture before shuffling on his feet. 

“...No.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Sure, it isn’t.”

He raised his eyebrow, but it wasn’t as serious as he had been before. And when you spoke again, his mouth grew into a crooked smile. 

“You like Selena,” You sing-songed. 

“Alright, enough. We’ve got a job to do.” He was biting back a laugh. You knew him too much to believe the opposite. 

When the two of you finally walked the few houses towards Scott’s house, he held out his arm for you to hold onto. Taking a deep breath, your hand hesitated before it grabbed onto him. Approaching the house, you could tell that it was alive with a lot of people on the inside. You wouldn’t necessarily say it was overflowing, but you could tell it was definitely close to filling up. 

“Let’s go?” He asked, and you nodded. He led you to the front door, where he rang the doorbell before the two of you waited. 

A minute or so later, Scott opened the door with a grin. 

“Hey, you two! You’re just in time.”

You put on your best smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Johnny sighed. You didn’t miss the tense undertone in his words.

The two of you made your way into the room. Across the room you heard someone call for you both. You held back a groan. You really didn’t need this right now. 

“Hey, over here!” Anne called, beckoning you over. Johnny heaved the sigh of a man ready to end it all, and then you both made your way to her and her group. All of them seemed to be the same age as her. 

“Ladies, these are our new neighbors I was telling you about.” She pointed at the both of you .”This is Dana Baker, and this is Fox… the architect.”

Oh boy. 

And the talking began. You and Johnny having to rehash the same details over and over again. It felt like having to navigate a minefield. You had to recall all of the lies you’d told Anne and Scott, this time in front of an audience of women very clearly ogling the man who they fully believed was your husband. 

You made idle chit-chat after that, but eventually, about twenty minutes had passed until they sat everyone down. The living room was full of grown ups, including a few young children. The thought of everyone being in such close proximity to someone, something that could hurt them all the way it had hurt those other women.

It was easy to tune them all out. It was then that you realized that suburban life would never really be for you. This was all so dull and monotone. You were sure that if you had decided to actually go into the medical field and settled down… you would probably lose your mind. 

They went over some things you didn’t pay attention to: lawns and whatnot. It was so tiring you had to stifle a yawn on more than one occasion. Anne was going on about some infraction that didn’t even sound that bad to you, when it occurred to you to slip away, Johnny be damned. 

You patted Scott on the shoulder as Anne went on. “Where’s the bathroom?”

He nodded back once, “Upstairs. Green door. We’re almost done, though, are you sure you can’t wait a little longer?”

“I had the genius idea to drink two whole bottles of water before we left,” You murmured so as to not make too much of a scene, “I really don’t think I can.”

He sighed, before nodding. “Go ahead.”

Gotcha. You slipped up, sparing Johnny a glance. He was glaring at you. If looks could kill, you didn’t even want to know where you’d end up going. You made your way up the stairs, remembering the way to the office from this morning. You slipped into the office, making your way to the cabinet. The medallion was gone, which made you wonder why he had done so. 

As you shuffled through the drawers of the cabinet and came up with nothing, you had to remind yourself to keep count of how long you’d been up here. You moved on to the desk, shuffling through the papers on the desk and then the ones on the drawer. In the first drawer, you found an ID: Alma Hernandez, Lazarus Programming.

In the second drawer, nothing. 

In the third and bottom drawer, you found something: a pair of dogtags. Neither of them said Hernandez. Instead, they read Simon Walsh. 

Simon Walsh? That was new. You stashed them back into the drawer, suddenly remembering how long you’d been up here. Probably a bit over five minutes. As you made your way back down to the living room, you ran into Johnny. 

“Hey,” He said, “I was just coming to look for you.”

He looked disappointed, bordering on anger. In the small space, you could feel his proximity. You couldn’t help but shake your head.

“I had to take the chance. I wasn’t sure if there would be a chance after this.”

He sighed. “I can’t believe you. Come on, they’re serving pizza.”

You laughed, letting him grab your hand as he led you back into the living room, where you two ate a few slices of pizza. Enough to feel satisfied, but not enough to feel too full. In theory, if you had to make a detainment or worse, have a confrontation then it’d be a bad idea to have stomach cramps. 

You two kept to yourselves, occasionally speaking to other couples who introduced themselves to you. Once you’d finished gorging yourselves on the food, he kept his hand around your waist the entire time. It was a gentle touch, but comforting. You couldn’t help but feel tense.

“After we get home, I’ll tell you all the details I saw.” You looked up to see his face, watching you tentatively. 

“Alright,” He murmured, leaning closer to your face, “But I wanna talk about something together first.”

Raising an eyebrow, you leaned away from him. “What, are you okay?”

Johnny nodded, smile reassuringly. “Yeah. I just realized something earlier today.” 

KANG-BAKER RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—21:17 hours, Friday, July 13th, 1994

When the two of you left, Anne had bid you both goodbye. She’d said Scott had gone to bed with a headache, which made you feel a bit uneasy. The entire way home, Johnny kept himself relatively close. The entire way home, he was silent. It wasn’t until the both of you were inside of the house that he leaned against the front door. As he led you to the couch )which had finally arrived), you tried to remember all of the details you’d seen as you looked through Scott’s office.

When he sat you down, you placed both hands in your lap. He scratched at his shoulder, before meeting your eyes.

“Simon Walsh.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened at the same time his had. “What?” You asked, shaking your head. You were suddenly aware of everything going on. You were in an ongoing murder investigation. It was quite possibly linked to a very secretive military base. Three women had been murdered. A fourth would be soon if you didn’t hurry.

“Johnny, I don’t think…”

“No, please. Just a few minutes, okay? I’ve been dealing with this for years. I need to get this out of my system and then we can talk about this back in DC. Please, Y/N.”

Your gut felt heavy at the same time your heart felt incredibly light. It was by far one of the strangest sensations you’d ever felt. Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded. 

“Alright, John. Five minutes. Then we talk about what I found.”

He nodded with a small smile. Gently, Johnny grabbed your hands, rubbing the knuckles with his thumbs. He was silent for a while, tilting his head back and forth as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“What I said last night at Anne’s. I meant it. That first time I saw you, I… I knew. I knew we didn’t get along initially, but I just had this feeling in my chest. You were so smart, and eventually we realized how much we clicked…”

He looked up, leaning closer. You swallowed softly as his eyes met yours again. He managed a soft chuckle. “Y/N, I tried to hold it away. But it got stronger every single day. You understand me. Even though we push back against each other, you don’t think I’m crazy. You take them into consideration and don’t brush them off. I really appreciate that. I look at you and… I’m home.”

Looking to the side, you sighed. “Johnny, I really don’t think this is appropriate. Especially not right now—”

"Y/N, I know what your dream on the plane was about."

You inhaled sharply, alarmed gaze meeting his own. His eyes had turned soft, warm. You knew you had to push him away. The name Simon Walsh was on loop in your head, but you couldn’t find it in you to push him away.

“What?”

“I heard you moan my name,” He sighed, “Trust me, Y/N, I know what I heard.”

He leaned even closer, cupping your face. You could feel his breath puffing softly onto your skin. His eyes were knowing as his voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You want me too, don’t you?”

When his lips met yours, you couldn’t find it in you to pull away. He pulled you closer, and your arms found their way to wrap themselves around your neck. His lips were soft, but demanding. You could tell he’d been waiting for this a long, long time. 

You don’t know when he laid you down onto the couch, but honestly… you didn’t really mind. Johnny was warm, comfortable. And yes, July in California was hot, humid, but… up until Johnny put his hands on you, you’d never realized how cold you’d been, even before your arrival here.

He deepened the kiss, hands sliding down to your waist. They toyed with the hem of your blouse, humming against your lips. You gasped against him, hands sliding into his gelled hair.

Your eyes snapped open. Johnny never used this much gel in his hair.

Two things happened in the next two seconds. You pushed Johnny off. Johnny would never prioritize his feelings like this over a case. You hadn’t seen Scott as you left. All of this pretending, playing house had gotten to you. You were in real danger now.

The other thing that happened? Johnny burst through the door, wearing clothes he hadn’t been wearing when you first left. He was panting heavily. There was a bruise on his cheek and his wrists were red.

You backed away from Not Johnny, who turned to you, gaze now furious. A wave of nausea passed over you, breathing heavily. Whatever Not Johnny had in his system, he had passed onto you with his spit, and you could feel it settling into your system. You looked up at Johnny, before pulling out your gun. Taking a deep breath, you looked at your work partner, closest confidante, love of your life.

“I had a feeling,” You mumbled, realizing how the sinking feeling in your stomach was actually dread.

Stumbling, you heard Not Johnny let out a ghastly screech. You fired your gun at him before passing out. 

SAN FRANCISCO METROPOLITAN, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA—10:39 hours, Saturday, July 14th, 1994

The room smelled sterile. You knew this smell. You’d lived it for several years before in medical school rotations. This had to be a hospital, you realized. Slowly, you let your eyes open. You let out a soft groan at the discomfort of having been stuck in one position for so long.

“You awake?” A deep, familiar voice asked. Your vision was blurry, but you could still recognize it was Johnny. His eyes were rimmed red from exhaustion, but he looked relieved. 

“No. I died, actually.” Your voice was raspy. Johnny scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible,” He mumbled, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“What even happened after I passed out?”

Johnny took a second to gather his thoughts before speaking. “You hit him in the face. It wasn’t pretty. He freaked out a bit, and then he took off. I couldn't catch him. Called Son, she came in with the precinct and they looked through Hernandez's house."

His gaze turned somber as you sat up with a soft huff. Your muscles were stiff.

"They found the real Scott Hernandez, his two kids and his wife, in their basement. Autopsies are being performed today, but it looks like they've been dead a few weeks."

Your eyes shut. Two kids, a man, and another woman. Seven victims total.

"And that thing is still out there," You mumbled, "If only I hadn't been so stupid—"

Johnny put his hand on yours. "Don't say that. Even if you hadn't gotten knocked out, he would still be way too much for just the two of us to handle. Y/N, you shot him in the face and it barely stopped him. He wasn't human anymore."

You shook your head, burying your head in your hands. "Still… I know you, Johnny. I should have seen the signs, but he was so—somehow he knew everything—"

"It's something to do with touch," He said with a nod, "He knocked me to the ground and locked me in a closet before he found you. I was a bit out of it, but I remember he touched my wrist for a few seconds and then he turned into me. My head still hurts, too. Maybe he can also copy some memories from the people he touches long enough."

When you didn't answer, he grabbed your face. He looked desperate. "Y/N, you're only human. I would have fallen for it too."

"I fell for it because he told me exactly what I wanted to hear," You whispered, feeling tears spring to your eyes, seemingly out of nowhere, "He played me like a fucking fiddle and I fell for it."

His thumb brushed away a tear. "Don't think about the what-ifs, Y/N. It's already happened, and now we need to focus on what's gonna happen next. We need to find a way into Fort Talbot. Somehow. Turn your report into the bureau and we can figure it out from there. There’s something going on there. Human experimentation on soldiers, or something."

"We're never gonna get clearance to search a military base, Johnny. It's impossible."

He shook his head. "Y/N, if you were able to convince Brooks to let me, Spooky Suh, FBI's most unwanted? keep running around hunting ghosts and aliens and Bigfoot all over the country, you can figure out a way to get access in there. I know you can."

You were shaking now. "We won't be safe if we do. You think the military won't retaliate? We'd be dead, Johnny," Your words were garbled and your voice wouldn't stop cracking, "There has to be another way."

He shook you gently, shaking his head. "Dammit, Y/N, I can't do this without you."

"They placed me with you for a reason, Johnny," You snapped, "To debunk your work, to reign you in and shut you down—"

"But you saved me," He insisted, "You did exactly the opposite. And as a result we kept working together, and you kept me honest. You… you've made me a whole person."

He rubbed his face with his hand, pushing a strand of dark hair out of his eye. "Y/N, as frustrating as it's been sometimes working with you, your stupud science and rationalism have saved me a thousand times over. I owe you everything. Y/N, you owe me nothing."

His forehead brushed yours, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can't do this without you," He murmured. And despite the fact that you knew that this was your Johnny, you shook your head. The deja vu was making your head spin. 

"Tell me something the real Johnny would know," You whispered, putting a hand on your chest.

He thought for a second, before sighing. "I had three moments when I realized I was in love with you. When you first walked into my office that morning, I had a feeling," He said, voice full of conviction, "It grew into something concrete when you told me my glasses were crooked. And the moment I knew—I mean, I already knew from that first moment but this was when it truly hit me—was when you told me you'd kept that stupid fucking nasal implant in your sports bra so that you wouldn't lose it."

He laughed warmly, obviously thinking back to the moment. "No one else has ever believed me the way you do. And I doubt anyone else ever will. You're my one in…" He looked to the side, trying to remember the number, "Five billion."

Your hand came up to caress his face. He seemed to melt against your touch. 

This time, when your lips met, everything felt right, despite the feeling that the world was crumbling around you. His hands squeezed your face gently, as if you were about to disappear. When your hands slid into his hair, it felt slightly sweaty still, but it wasn't tacky with gel. 

This was your Johnny. You knew it with your entire being.

Yes, Johnny was sarcastic, stubborn, eccentric and had low impulse control. But he was also highly intelligent, empathetic, hilarious and yes, you could now admit that he was the most beautiful human you'd ever seen in your 30 years on this planet. 

If it had to be him and you against the world, so be it. The truth was out there. You and Johnny would just have to be the ones chasing it.

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