#it’s either this scene or the one in the town | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kithtaehyung · 2 months

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minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

—

Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked.

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind.

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst.

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself.

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat.

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks.

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits.

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans.

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him.

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is.

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house.

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away.

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.”

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.”

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly.

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off.

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart.

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers.

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together.

Taboo, even.

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just…

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span.

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag.

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day.

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things.

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall.

“What.”

“I worry sometimes.”

His gaze lifts. “About me?”

“Yeah.”

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to?

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.”

Someone like him? What does that mean?

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.”

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.”

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday.

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest.

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact.

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets.

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again.

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter.

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street.

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans.

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?”

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too.

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.”

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?”

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.”

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead.

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought.

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point.

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return.

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand.

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—”

“Course I don’t.”

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again?

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again.

What the hell is up with today?

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now?

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too.

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first.

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously.

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached.

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.”

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time?

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street.

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.”

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.”

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one.

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.”

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence.

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home?

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.”

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences.

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.”

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over?

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.”

Ah.

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!”

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk.

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting.

And he looks impatient as hell.

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived.

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?”

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second.

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question?

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks.

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it.

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.”

Oh.

Why did… you kinda like that?

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.”

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence,

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi.

For a hardened soul, his name is so…

Tender.

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once.

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi.

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right.

Left seems promising.

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for.

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared.

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby.

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance.

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out.

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form.

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down.

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed.

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months.

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth.

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the…

Ambiance.

Wait.

Dragons. A lot of them.

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal.

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass.

…Yoongi?

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge.

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere.

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers.

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past.

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke.

And just like that, your reunion is over.

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling.

Shit.

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company.

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often?

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time.

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here?

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side.

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase.

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win.

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful.

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on?

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight.

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now.

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you.

What do you do? What even can you do?

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance.

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!”

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life.

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!”

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him.

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do…

This one thing…

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you.

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck.

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.”

“Excuse me?”

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply,

“You shouldn’t be up here.”

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?”

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet.

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward.

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant.

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now.

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.”

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages.

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill.

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.”

Live with it. How poetic.

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor.

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps.

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling.

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe.

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs.

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down?

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same.

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.”

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now.

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?”

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit.

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought.

This is going too well.

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now.

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded.

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime.

Yoongi’s right.

You’re in it now.

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run.

You’re really doing this.

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go.

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front.

“Get back here!”

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns.

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine.

And he’s… enjoying this?

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees.

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit.

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!”

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between.

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck!

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes.

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face.

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life.

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no.

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is—

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd.

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?”

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.”

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside.

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in.

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear,

“Kiss me.”

“I said get out!”

“What?”

“Come here.”

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.”

Oh.

You were just… Oh.

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either.

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.”

…Huh?

Agust?

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun.

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight.

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes.

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever.

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey.

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that.

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck!

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day.

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts.

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory.

Did you both really make it this far?

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do.

Rest. Sleep. Home.

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three.

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not.

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.”

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.”

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it,

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right?

Right?

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop.

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it.

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for?

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up.

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again.

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all.

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive.

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district.

Han Station is a floating railway?

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head.

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward.

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head.

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore.

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name!

“Agust!”

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle.

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt.

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now.

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe.

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection.

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way.

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry.

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by.

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time.

Your tangerines…

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away.

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal.

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake.

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off?

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers.

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.”

We? Stay?

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.”

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?”

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.”

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.”

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.”

Mm.

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow.

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder.

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have?

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now.

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust.

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train.

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—”

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.”

“Understood.”

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling.

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with?

…Who exactly did you save?

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into.

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman.

Right before sliding doors shut the world out.

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist

#NEW YOONGI LETS GOOO #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #*latest #ryenwrites #minted #*ryenfictalk #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: murder

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vamptastic · 1 year

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FUCK i can't believe i forgot abt going to a drag show in boston... missed opportunity

#well. the town im going to college in has a small drag scene so its not like that big a deal #but stilllll. would've been fun. and i would've had a friend to ease me into it bc ive never gone #idek if there's still a gay bar in my town #i mean ik there's cruising bc a couple of friends do it #and ofc dating apps and such #but i don't think there's a bar anymore the one everyone goes to closed down 😭 and idk which one they go to instead now #can't drink so idc but itd be nice to know. i think most gay ppl up here r either #too young to go to bars or somewhat closeted #like my civics teacher in middle school was gay but he was like. an former lawyer who moved up here bc he likes horses #dunno that he was going out on the town too much yk #and friends my age go on dating apps and such (#which is really not fucking safe at all but whatever i get it theres not much else to do here #and theres like one public park where people fuck #but no like bars or community centers afaik #i gotta fucking. Get on facebook. its like the only way to link up w people in a small town lmao #its how i found people for pokemon go 😭 and when my cat ran off for a week

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giantkillerjack · 1 year

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"The Professor's Workshop"

An excerpt from my graphic novel script drafts, posted here without beta bc it motivates me to write. In this chapter, the protagonists David and Kuruk are being given a tour of Armadillo Island by its mayor.

"Just wait til you meet them!" RJ exclaims excitedly. "They're the mind of a generation - maybe two!" He now adds an additional spring to his step, and David has to jog to keep up with him, despite them both being very short men. Kuruk follows behind, looking deeply skeptical.

RJ leads them down a winding forested path to a more remote part of the village, continuing to talk about the island the whole time while occasionally asking friendly questions of his guests.

They arrive at a secluded building tucked away in the bright green foliage of the island. The building is made in the same unique colorful architectural style as the rest of the island, but it has an odd overall shape - as though it has seen many small additions and renovations over the years. Paint chips in a couple places, but otherwise it looks well-cared-for. Shiny metal vents and chimneys emerge from the roof and sides, gently emitting white smoke. A stone pathway leads from the sign to the door, nearly hidden in untamed tall grass.

Out front, a high-quality colorful carved wooden sign reads:

Doctor Professor Xosha Zapata, PhD

Chemist & Architect Extraordinaire

"The sign was a gift from me," RJ chirps, stopping for a moment to admire it.

"No kidding," David deadpans politely, obviously hiding a smile.

(Behind him, the side of Kuruk's mouth twitches upwards a little for just a moment.)

RJ is marches up the overgrown stone and knocks confidently on the door, which turns out to not be fully closed; it creaks open from his knocking.

RJ stands just outside of the doorway and shouts inside cheerfully, causing Kuruk to wince at the volume. "OH, PROFESSOR!!! Are you in, Professor? I've met the most lovely chaps and I'd love to introduce them to our island's premiere scientific mind!"

There is a distant muffled sound from within.

"... PROFESSOR?" RJ shouts again, looking slightly concerned, "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

An indistinct wobbly speech bubble comes from inside, ending in question marks.

RJ looks both worried and like a man on a mission. "WE'RE COMING IN TO CHECK ON YOU - ALRIGHT, PROFESSOR?" He shouts loud enough this time that David and Kuruk both wince.

RJ hustles in and our heroes follow hesitantly behind.

The small entryway opens into a large room with high ceiling. It appears to be a lab or a workshop of some kind. Skylight windows light the room with soft sunlight, and dust motes float in the air in the brightest of the rays of light.

In terms of the contents of the room, the place looks like if a cartoon professor somehow had even more ADHD than usual:

There are dozens of beakers and vials on a number of desks and tables. A few of the beakers sit on lit bunsen burners, bubbling with colorful substances and sending white smoke up into the vents above them. At least one beaker has bubbled over and created an unidentifiable burnt mass at its base.

There are multiple architectural drafting tables with designs and blueprints on them in various states of completion.

There are several chalkboards full of notes in messy handwriting.

Books, papers, notebooks cover nearly every flat surface and several of the non-flat ones. Many torn notebook pages have been taped to the walls. [I guess this fantasy world has an equivalent to scotch tape now. ... I'm fine with that.]

The only decorations are a cluster of very nice painting on a small section of the wall. (Readers looking very closely will notice they all have the same artist's signature - Epa, who runs the inn.)

There is nothing to suggest nefarious scientific activity. Real "absentminded professor" energy.

In the far corner of the room, a set of scaffolding and a ladder block off a small space.

"H-hello? RJ, is that you?" says a small speech bubble from behind the scaffolding.

"Aha!" RJ leaps in that direction impressively quickly for a tiny man in his 50s.

Before David and Kuruk catch up to him, they hear RJ's relieved and once again cheerful voice:

"Ah, professor! There you are, thank goodness!!! You had us worried for a moment there!"

"...'Us' ?" says the unknown person in a pinched voice.

David and Kuruk round the corner to see three things:

One: an incomplete 8-foot-tall architectural model of a building,

Two: a fallen ladder, and

Three: a very embarrassed-looking non-binary person whom they recognize as the amateur vigilante they last saw getting shoved into the town square fountain by Armadillo Woman. Ze is wearing overalls, safety goggles pushed up on zyr head, a white shirt with some almost neon-colored stains on it, and a safety harness.

Ze appears unharmed, but they are suspended in the air by a cord attached to the back of the harness, and they look exceedingly uncomfortable. Zyr feet are dangling high off the ground, and ze is slowly and involuntarily rotating in place.

"Oh." Ze says weakly at the sound of additional footsteps. "There's... more people to witness this. ...My lucky day." They look as though they'd rather melt away into the earth. As they speak, they continue to spin, and they miss their initial chance to look at David and Kuruk, not seeing their faces until spinning slowly back around.

RJ, however, continues with his introductions, gesturing grandly and earnestly. "Mister David, Mister Kuruk - please meet the esteemed Doctor-Professor Xosha Zapata! Professor, these are my new friends Kuruk and David! They're here for the festival!"

Behind RJ, Kuruk squints at being called RJ's "new friend." David just looks amused.

"Y-You can just call me Xosha actually I'm not really--"

Xosha stops as ze finally catches sight of David and Kuruk - zyr face somehow falls even further. "Ah. We've, uh, met, actually," they say with a pained smile.

RJ is delighted. "Really?!? Fantastic! You must tell me all about it! How you met, what everyone was wearing! Every detail!"

"Um, actually, do you think maybe somebody could get me down first, please?" Xosha says in a small voice.

RJ looks surprised to find Xosha still in the air; he presses his hand to his forehead. "Oh! Oh my! Of course of course - my apologies! - I just get so carried away! Gentlemen, would you assist me?"

David and Kuruk nod. Kuruk looks like he's questioning how his life has come to this.

"Tell us what to do, Professor!" RJ says with his hands on his hips.

What follows is a ridiculous comical sequence in which Xosha explains how this happened and the men help zyr get down.

Ze was standing on a tall ladder and working on the architectural model. The safety harness they're wearing supports their torso and pelvis, and it connects to a rope from a clever pulley system on the ceiling. The early light of dawn indicates that this was probably a few hours ago.

They lean too far to reach for something and lose their balance, kicking the ladder out from under them while simultaneously knocking the pulley controls out of their reach.

Their legs kick in the air as they tried to release themselves from the harness, but in their struggles they manage only to somehow tangle the straps of their overalls and cause a lot of discomfort.

The final flashback panel is a distant wide shot of the whole workshop with the lonely defeated figure of Xosha hanging comically from the harness in the background.

Per Xosha's direction, RJ and David find the pulley controls and begin to lower zyr down in stops and starts. The pulley system is not cooperating with them, and Xosha yelps in a mix of alarm and discomfort with each small drop. It looks very painful, and David winces in sympathy. RJ looks similarly apologetic.

After the first small drop, Kuruk moves quickly to stand under Xosha.

"I will catch you," he says, looking entirely unsure of himself, but ready nonetheless.

"Thank-- you," Xosha squeaks, "It's-- YAAHH--!!!"

They let out a final yelp as they drop the last few feet. Kuruk catches them from behind [either under the arms or by the harness] and slows their fall so they land safely on their feet. Kuruk continues to support them for a few seconds until they seem steady.

As soon as Kuruk lets go, however, Xosha whimpers and lowers zyrself to the ground in a comically pained ball. Evidently, hanging from a pelvis harness hurts one's crotch and hips like a motherfucker, and Xosha is too exhausted to pretend otherwise. They are still clearly embarrassed, but they seem to have accepted their humiliating fate.

RJ hurries over to help them take the harness off, crouching on the ground next to them and patting their shoulder consolingly. He asks them what happened, and he asks if they need help taking the harness off. Xosha accepts his help and explains, accompanied by 3-5 cartoony flashback panels:

In the flashback, ze is standing on a tall ladder and working on the architectural model. The safety harness they're wearing supports their torso and pelvis, and it connects to a rope from a clever pulley system on the ceiling that can be manually adjusted by the user. The early light of dawn indicates that this was probably a few hours ago.

Xosha leans too far to reach for something and loses their balance, kicking the ladder out from under them while simultaneously knocking the pulley controls out of their reach.

They are caught by the harness and the expression of pain on their face is ridiculous and exaggerated for humor.

Their legs kick in the air as they tried to release themselves from the harness, but in their struggles they manage only to somehow tangle the straps of their overalls and cause more discomfort.

The final flashback panel is a distant wide shot of the whole workshop - with the lonely defeated figure of Xosha gently swaying in the background.

In the present, Xosha buries their head in their hands and lets out a loud long groan; they lament how stupid their mistake was, and RJ reassures them that even geniuses make mistakes! Xosha insists that ze is not a genius. RJ declares that they are too modest. It is clear that this is not the first time they have had this conversation.

David takes in the absurdity of it all and he smiles at Kuruk across the room. Kuruk doesn't smile back, but he does meet David's gaze and there is a hint of a twinkle in his eye amongst his general bewilderment.

Finally, Xosha manages to get the harness off and sit in a chair, letting out a long sigh.

On the final page of the chapter, a large panel shows Xosha in a detailed, fully-rendered (shaded, inked, colored, etc.) shot with warm natural lighting. Ze looks up from their chair with an attempt at a smile that lands a little closer to a wince. The shot is framed to make them appear endearing in their awkwardness. They are both cute and anxious.

"So, uhh, I'm guessing you have some questions about yesterday?" ze says.

Below that panel, a banner with large font reads:

Tune in next time for Part 3, Chapter 7:

"The Professor."

[End.]

If you liked this and want to read the published scripts with concept art on AO3, you can do that! I get a comment on those like once every 3 months and every time it gives me serotonin for like 3 weeks tbh. If you don't mind an unusual reading format, then you can find sexy men tied up and rescued, gay sky pirates, budding friendships, autistic/ADHD friendship, so many Trans people, sexy fat characters, empowering disability representation, a group of actors who would fit right in with The Ember Island Players, a haunted mop, a magical trauma recovery library, a lesbian biker gang that robs imperialistic museums - AND SO MUCH MORE

Note to self: I think maybe I'll change Xosha's pronouns to they/them and zey/zem, instead of they/them and ze/zyr. Seems to fit better.

#original #the blacksmith #original character #original characters #I might delete this later #but I will eventually publish a more polished version of this scene with concept art on AO3 #graphic novel #short story #my graphic novel consists of about 13 parts/arcs that come together into one story #scripts and concept art for parts 1 and 2 are up on ao3. pt 1 is lots of hurt and some really juicy comfort. pt 2 is GAY SKY PIRATE TIME.#this is an excerpt from part 3. which is called The Amazing Armadillo woman and which i am frankly very impatient to finally finish!#This excerpt is from a chapter in which the guys get a tour of the town from the mayor. - RJ is the mayor. ('But please! Call me RJ!')#RJ is the real deal tho. He is based on Gomez Addams. RJ stands for Raul Johnston - after my two favorite Gomez actors #who are Raul Julia and John Astin - from the 90s movies and the 1964 tv show #fun fact! John Astin is the father of Sean Astin aka Sam Gamgee!#anyway all of RJ's his enthusiasm is 1000% genuine - he is just Like That.#and yes of course he loves his wife and children SO MUCH #also the concept art all has full image descriptions for visually impaired readers.#the finished novel will either have full image descriptions or - even better - an audiobook!#NOTE TO JACK: do not edit this post; this is not the most updated version of the script.

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gogobootz1 · 3 months

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Dog Day Afternoon

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: New to town but oh-so sought after, a few stumbles might just lead you to love

Word Count: 3k

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Today, I write with news from the North. The reclusive Duke of Devonshire has come to London. It seems that after the death of his younger brother some time back, he is determined to find his eldest daughter, the new heir, a husband. The lady is supposedly very beautiful and will no doubt consume all of the attention of eligible young bachelors. I only bid good luck to her competition, as they will surely need it.

The fluffy tails of your two best friends could not keep still. The black Newfoundlands you had trained from puppyhood loved carriage rides, mostly because they loved meeting the horses before and after. You were sure they'd grow even more excited when you arrived at the park.

As the carriage slowed, you smiled, eager to get them some exercise. Your maid stepped out first, and you momentarily handed her both dogs' leads. Accepting a hand down from a footman, you turned to take them back when they broke free of her grasp entirely. Worse yet, they took off at a run.

You called after them, then whistled, but they were determined. Usually, they didn't give you any trouble with recall. Reaching for the dog whistle you kept on your person, you found nothing.

Without a second thought, you took off after them.

"My Lady!" Your maid called from behind you, panicked. You paid her little heed, anxious to have your babies back safe.

Park patrons stood as your dogs, followed by yourself, ran past. They gawked openly at the strange scene put on by an unknown young lady.

You were relieved when they slowed, but it didn't take long for them to sprint off again. They rounded a corner, quick as lighting. You kept after them, unable to see the obstacle around the bend.

Crashing right into someone's back, the two of you stumbled. The poor gentleman in front of you took the brunt of the impact, but you didn't have time to stay and make a formal apology. Staggering a bit, you resumed your chase.

"Sorry!" You yelled over your shoulder.

"Wait! Miss," the man called after you but gave up as you ran further away.

When your dogs ran off the path and into a clearing where people were picnicking, you grew really worried. Chasing after them on a trail was one thing, but ruining the outings of fellow nobility would be an altogether worse embarrassment.

You stopped in your tracks when you realized who the boys were scampering up to: your little sister. Abigail sat on a blanket with a girl who looked to be about her age. In her mouth was the dog whistle. You tended only to use that whistle when you took them out in the woods, and you'd trained them to run back to you at the sound of it. It gave you peace of mind knowing that you could call them back at any time if they went too far off in the forest or on one of your walks.

Abigail seemed pleased to see the two of them. A surprised grin graced her face as she patted them. They were even happier to see her, showering her in kisses. "Hoo-y? Moo? What are you doing here?" She giggled.

Her laughter stopped when she saw you stalking over. Thoroughly out of breath, you crossed your arms when you reached them. The three of them looked guiltily up at you. With a snap, your dogs came to sit on either side of you. Although your countenance was thoroughly enraged, scratching behind both dogs' ears decreased your intimidation factor.

"Why on Earth did you steal that?" You nodded toward your whistle.

"I think it makes for a chic necklace," Abigail said defensively. You stuck a hand out, and she reluctantly placed the whistle she'd put on a chain in it.

"And why on Earth were you using it?" You asked expectantly.

She held her hands up in surrender, "Miss Hyacinth was skeptical that the whistle could not be heard with human ears. I was simply showing her how it worked." Abigail was clever- you'd give her that. You could hardly scold her in front of her companion, and you wouldn't dream of scolding the other young girl for something so clearly not her fault. Using her as a human shield was a cowardly tactic by your sister, however. "And I thought you weren't arriving until later!"

"They were antsy. I figured I could abandon the harp in favor of allowing them some exercise," you explained, then glared at her, "This was not the type of exercise I had in mind."

"But Hoo-y and Moo love running free," she pouted at you.

"They are not allowed to run free in public spaces where I must chase after them!" You snapped at her. Crouching to get closer, you reached into your purse and gave both dogs a scrap of jerky. "Huginn and Muninn are both well-behaved gentlemen, and you may have tarnished their good names by causing this wild romp!"

"Huginn and Muninn? Does that make you Odin?" A deep voice called from behind you. You rose and turned to see a tall, handsome gentleman with dark hair.

His question took you by surprise. Most people did not understand their names. You blinked for a second before collecting yourself, "No." It was hardly a smart reply, but it was the most you could manage after chasing your dogs a few hundred meters. You shook your head a little, vaguely embarrassed by your answer, before turning back to the girls.

"Would you please excuse Lady Abigail, Miss Hyacinth?" The bright young lady nodded at you with a pleasant smile before you even finished speaking, "The least she can do after causing such trouble is help me walk the dogs." You directed the last part toward your sister, who reluctantly stood. Taking one of the leads from your hand, she bid goodbye to her companion before walking off. You nodded at the young lady and the handsome stranger before following after her.

Benedict watched you walk away from his sister's picnic spot, only slightly removed from the rest of the family's. He collapsed down next to Hyacinth and stole a grape from her plate, "Who was that?"

"My new friend, Abigail," she replied, smacking his wrist. He ate the grape anyway.

"And the older one?"

"Her sister," Hyacinth looked at him skeptically, "why do you ask?"

Benedict thought of how you'd practically pushed him to the ground in the middle of the walkway, then ran from the scene. "No reason," he shrugged.

——————————————

The first ball you'd be attending was later that evening, and you were incredibly nervous. Sat on the floor of the library, you brushed through Muninn's coat in an attempt to calm your nerves. Waiting for your father to finish changing was making you even more anxious, the dread just building up in your body.

"Why are you on the floor?" His voice finally came from the doorway.

"His coat needed brushing," you shrugged innocently. The Duke waved at you to come join him, and you stood, brushing some fur off yourself. Muninn stood, too, and closely followed as you joined your father.

"You're only lucky he didn't slobber on you," your father shook his head at you fondly, offering his arm.

Taking it, you made one last bid to skip the event, "Remind me why we are attending this?"

"A future Duchess needs a husband," he said simply.

"Does she really?" You asked wryly.

"No," your father answered seriously, causing you to stop. "Well, only if she should like a Duke or Duchess of her blood to follow in her footsteps," he tugged on your arm to keep you walking.

That only made you feel worse. While before you felt nervous, guilt was now in the mix. What if that didn't happen?

"If you never marry, I will not love you any less," he revealed. "I only ask that you try," your father asserted, "but if there is nary a man up to snuff, I would have you die a spinster." You laughed at that, feeling some pressure relieved. He joked with you for the duration of the carriage ride and up until you were announced at the ball.

"Now presenting; His Grace Daniel, Duke of Devonshire, and his daughter Lady-"

The entire company of the room turned to watch the two of you descend the stairs.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Your father whispered to you jokingly.

"Oh, only that awful mustache," you whispered back playfully. You caught the corner of his lip twitching as he tried not to laugh at the jab at his expense.

A few more seconds of staring had you whispering to him again, "I see now why you never leave the house." That earned a huff of a laugh from him.

"Let us thank our host, then visit the refreshments," he relayed the plan.

"Excellent idea," you replied quietly as he dragged you toward a finely dressed older woman.

"Lady Danbury," your father nodded at her in greeting.

"Lovely to see you again, Your Grace. It's been quite some time," she smiled at him knowingly.

"Indeed it has," he laughed, "may I present my daughter?" You smiled then, giving her a polite nod as well.

"My, how you've grown, my lady. The last time I saw you, you were far shorter than me," she chuckled, and you laughed politely with her. Unfortunately, you had no memory of that meeting. It must have been a long time ago, and she must have visited your home at Chatsworth House.

It was only a few more moments of small talk before your father excused the two of you, under the guise of not impeding her from talking to other guests.

He fixed you both a glass of lemonade at the refreshments table before he was pulled away. As much as he hated socializing, people loved him. He sent you an apologetic glance as he left. You only shook your head at him, smiling.

You took a brief glance around the room, noticing a few debutantes conversing near you. You sent them a smile, but they sneered in reply and closed ranks. Stunned at their response, you didn't quite know what to do.

"They can be rather mean," you turned to find a young red-headed woman beside you. "Not to mention jealous," she said helpfully.

"Jealous?" You were confused. They hadn't even met you. "Of me?"

"Oh, yes," she laughed a bit. "Haven't you read Lady Whistledown?"

You were embarrassed to have no idea of what she spoke, "I haven't met her. Is she in attendance?" That got an even greater laugh from your companion.

"Lady Whistledown is a gossip columnist and a rather popular one at that," she informed you, and you felt foolish for your last comment. "She wrote about you in her latest issue."

"Really?" You were stunned, as you'd only recently arrived in London.

"She predicted you'd steal the attentions of every available gentleman away from your fellow debutants," she nodded.

"No wonder they hate me," you sighed, sorry to have made a bad impression on the debutants before making their acquaintance. "Oh, I'm sorry, I still haven't introduced myself!" You were eager to make at least one good first impression.

"I'm Penelope Featherington," she said with a smile.

"I must admit, Miss Featherington," you shook your head, "I think Lady Whistledown's prediction will prove incorrect." She tilted her head and gestured for you to go on, "I've not been approached by a single gentleman."

Penelope took a quick look around the room, accidentally meeting a few pairs of eyes. Plenty of people had already been looking in your direction. She smiled a bit at your obliviousness, "I think perhaps they're just intimidated."

"Oh no," your eyes widened, "have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all," she assured you, "I think it's just... no one wants to take the first shot at a great stag and miss."

"I'm not sure I like being prey in this metaphor," you deadpanned, causing her to laugh once again.

It seemed one young gentleman mustered the courage to be the first to approach, and he really was young. "Good evening, ladies," he greeted you both, then offered you his hand, "would you care to dance?"

You placed your hand lightly in his but sent Penelope a look as he led you off. She giggled as you went. From there, you were off to the races. Dance after dance, gentleman after gentleman, you were exhausted.

"Please excuse me, sir, I'm feeling rather parched," you did not even recall this one's name.

"Oh no, please, my lady, I shall fetch a beverage for you," he nodded, "stay right there! Don't move!" He kept eye contact with you as he walked backward a few paces. You couldn't help but walk backward away from him, and you continued to do so even after he'd scurried off.

In fact, you retreated so far back that you retreated right into someone else's back. You both turned.

“You rather love bumping into me,” the gentleman you’d seen earlier said.

“Excuse me?” You certainly hadn’t seen him before this morning, so you had no idea what he meant by that smart comment. Your offense at his statement outweighed the sway of his good looks, unlike earlier.

“This makes twice,” he insisted, “once chasing after your ravens and once just now.”

It took you a second to catch up, “It was you I knocked over in the park earlier?!” Embarrassment rolled over you like a wave. “Oh God,” this was awful, “I am so incredibly sorry. Truly, I am mortified. And I would have apologized earlier, I-“

He only laughed a bit, “It’s quite alright. I got the sense you were in a rush.” His teasing tone brought a smile to your face.

“They’re usually so well-behaved,” you assured him, “I’m afraid my sister was behind the debacle.”

“Oh, yes, she was sitting with Hyacinth, was she not?”

“You know Miss Hyacinth?”

The gentleman grinned and bowed, “Benedict Bridgerton, her brother.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you smiled, “officially.”

“I’m not sure I caught your name,” right as he asked, you heard it being called.

“My lady?” You whipped around, and spotted the gentleman you’d abandoned searching for you. Wincing, you scuttled toward the closest pillar and ducked behind it. Benedict stayed put, but watched you run off with great amusement. After a moment, he chose to follow you.

“Are you hiding?” He teasingly asked.

You peered around the pillar, hoping the man had walked away. When you saw he hadn’t, you ducked away again, “yes!”

Benedict blinked at you, smiling, “Why?”

“My feet hurt,” you confessed, “I have danced every dance. I haven’t sat down in hours. Frankly, I’m surprised so many are interested after my jaunt through the park.”

“Perhaps they were impressed by your display of athleticism,” a crooked grin crossed his face. You leveled him with a look.

“There you are, my lady,” you jolted at the foreign voice, and Benedict had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “I could not find you, so I’m afraid I drank your lemonade as well,” you could see Benedict’s shoulders shake with laughter, “Are you ready for our next dance?”

A look of pure horror must have crossed your face, because Benedict finally intervened, “I’m afraid she’s promised the next dance to me.” He pulled a pencil from a pocket in his jacket and outstretched one hand to you. You held out the arm your dance card was attached to, “In fact, I’ve very generously been granted all her remaining dances.” He winked at you as he filled in the four remaining spots. You fought off a grin.

“I see,” the man you interrupted you said sourly. He turned on his heel and marched away. Neither you nor Benedict could stop your laughter at his reaction.

“It is not my intention to further burden your feet,” he assured you after a moment, “I only hoped to dissuade him.”

“You did a fine job,” you grinned at him, “you have my gratitude.”

“I think I rather scandalized him,” Benedict chuckled, and you shook your head.

“It seems rather easy to scandalize this lot,” you said.

“Well, you’re right about that,” he nodded.

You sighed, “I think they’re all so concerned with presenting themselves as proper and important they forget to consider anyone else. Not one man I danced with asked me about myself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Benedict shook his head, “I hope the rest of your evening is more relaxing.”

“Thank you,” you nodded at him, “at the very least, I know my dogs will listen to me when I return to them.”

Benedict laughed at that and slightly bowed towards you again, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, my lady. I hope to bump into you again soon.”

Your eyes widened, “Maybe not bump.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled at you and nodded before leaving you free to go find somewhere to sit.

Soon enough, you father found you relaxing on a chaise lounge in a nearby study. He only shook his head, and offered you his arm to depart.

——————————————

The next morning brought with it house calls. You’d been hoping to spend a quiet morning working on a new piece for the harp, as you’d forgone practice the day before. But, much to your chagrin, you were forced to dress and be presentable within only ten minutes of your waking.

It didn’t take long for the sitting room to be bombarded with interested parties, though none were interested enough to truly speak with you. Each brought with him a new bouquet of flowers, and you soon grew worried you’d start sneezing uncontrollably. Eventually, you became so overwhelmed that you bribed poor Abigail to keep them occupied while you disappeared.

The only question she had for you was if you cared what she did to them. You’d given her free rein. With one look at her wicked grin, you fled the room.

Quickly turning the corner to another hallway, you quite nearly crashed into someone.

“That was almost three,” Benedict joked with you.

“Almost,” you highlighted, “but only a close call.”

“True,” he nodded.

"What brings you here?"

Benedict smiled, "I had hoped to call on you. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"Not at all," you shook your head jovially.

"Excellent! I brought a gift," he produced a brown paper bag. You were slightly confused but glad for something other than flowers.

"Thank you," you reached for it, but he pulled it back.

"Not for you," he shook his head. You blinked back at him, wide-eyed. "Unless you have a proclivity for raw steak." Benedict laughed at the shock on your face, "I thought Huginn and Muninn might enjoy a treat."

A surprised smile eased onto your face. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at him, "I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"Do you think they might also appreciate a walk in the park?" He asked, "A chance at redemption?"

"I think they'd like that," you grinned widely as Benedict smiled and offered you his arm.

---------------------------------------------------------

He didn't ask a single question! And he was wearing these- FUGLY jeans

Lol I've been toying with this idea since S3 part 1 came out, hope you liked it! I let her live in 2005 Mr. Darcy's luxurious mansion so you're welcome

(sorry for obscure norse mythology references)

#benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton

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whencartoonsruletheworld · 11 months

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so like. fnaf movie. after night five, all outside observers know is "this 30yo guy with severe anger issues + his 10yo mentally ill sister just walked out of his collapsing workplace with an unconscious, stabbed police officer, saying that someone inside the building tried to kill them but we can't get into the building to check. we went to their house and the aunt who was fighting for custody of the child is dead on the floor. the guy's career counselor is missing, as is his babysitter and her family and apparently they're all dead in the building we can't get into." and like. that all looks suspicious as FUCK however we know that in the few-weeks timeskip both mike and abby seem happy and fine so it's not like mike was arrested or anything. he seems to be more adjusted and is happily talking with her teacher so i doubt he's under stress of interrogation or anything

there's a lot of implications there that mike mighta pulled something but it's all circumstantial evidence at best. i'm sure in jane's autopsy and crime scene evidence they couldn't find any evidence of mike being the one to attack her, esp since it was probably just golden freddy bopping her in the head so they dont even have the weapon, and if she was strangled they'd be able to tell it wasn't by bare hands and they couldnt get prints or anyth. especially if golden freddy is a FULL ghost and thus left no trail.

mike would be smart enough to only tell the cops what they need to know without mentioning ghosts to sound crazy. abby might be more honest with the cops just bc of #autism but they'd be more likely to consider her talking about ghosts and imaginary friends as a child's way of coping, and they cant get anything out of her that would incriminate mike. ADD TO THAT that mike has wounds that are clearly defensive and is SUPER banged up and his wounds would likely match his story way better than evidence of him attacking anyone, AND that there's likely footage and witnesses of him being in the pharmacy and then driving to work (and thus not in the area to attack jane), AND if/when nessie wakes up she'll probably vouch for mike as well, and the cops dont have anything on him

though i DO wonder if they would have records of vanessa patching him up in the police outpost. if they do, that would also back up mike's story as it's 1) far away from the aunt jane crime scene, 2) confirms that he and vanessa were working together, so either she's complicit in Crime™ or his story is accurate and she was helping him save his sister. him going to defend her instead of calling backup is also consistent with his personality of getting triggered and jumping into action around child abduction, esp w/ his sibling in danger

considering what abby would probably say, AND the history of freddy's, it's likely that they would come to the conclusion of is "someone [likely the og kidnapper from the 80s] found out that the guy working at freddy's had a sister, kidnapped abby from her house while her aunt was babysitting and tried to recreate the crimes, his story of him and vanessa defending her and escaping vaguely checks out." whether or not mike would incriminate vanessa by mentioning her dad was the killer is up in the air, and there's obviously some huge holes that are left from nobody believing that there are ghosts in the building but that would probably be the eventual conclusion

but throwing that all away, it would be really, REALLY funny if the rest of the town, being really fuckin nosy and getting into the juiciest gossip they've had in decades, took one look at michael "big teddy bear falling asleep on himself" schmidt and said "there's no way. there's no way this guy murdered his aunt, stabbed an officer and then destroyed his own workplace, especially when he really needed that job and was on sleeping medication," and then turned around to look at abby "neurodivergent in the early 2000s (ableist af time period)" "vocally hates her aunt" "doesn't talk to anyone and claims that she can see ghosts" "vaguely possessive of her brother" "claims that she found the guy who hurt her friends and got him jumped by a cupcake(?)" schmidt and said "oh my god. it was her."

and nobody's gonna directly say anything but they've got cautious eyes on the situation and someone quietly slips mike a copy of the bad seed to see if he has a realization but instead he's just like "hey this book kinda reminds of that golden freddy kid lmao. wonder how he's doin" and then we smashcut to golden freddy kid poking springtrap with a stick

#fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf spoilers #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #mine

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yeonzzzn · 5 months

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numbers up: sim jaeyun

part three of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 15.3k

synopsis: with the imposter ghost face on the loose and your life being threatened, jake makes preparations to keep you safe and track down the copycat. you also make preparations with the heads of the film and investigation departments to bring down the imposter. trust no one and remember…everyone is a suspect.

genre: established relationship, ghostface!jake, journalist!reader, smut.

warnings: swearing, jake is fucking insane (as always), blood & m*rder, dry humping, reader gets stabbed, multiple unprotected sex scenes, shower sex, hair pulling, if I missed everything please let me know!

You’ve never seen Jake this paranoid before, or well, paranoid ever. Paranoia wasn’t an emotion Jake had ever had to feel and deal with, that was until you. Until this copycat ghost face made threats to your life and drove Jake to hold you close and always double-check over his shoulder.

That phone call made Jake scared—truly, genuinely, scared. Which was another emotion he’d never felt. Jake usually lived on the thrill of it all. The thrill of someday being caught by law enforcement. The thrill of someone finding out his identity and challenging him. But he has you now. You changed everything.

Which drove him to make this decision. To move himself and you across town into another apartment, leaving everything behind.

You sat on the brand new couch you and Jake just finished moving up the stairs and into your new apartment, looking up at him on the ladder he stood on, drilling the new security system and camera into the corner of the living room.

Your eyes wandered around your new home, to all the boxes and new furniture and new bags of clothing. You thought Jake was joking when he mentioned moving out and leaving every single thing in your old apartment behind. He clearly wasn’t.

Jake paid for everything, the new lease for this apartment. Bought you and him new phones that had new numbers on a completely different phone plan than your previous ones. New bank accounts. New laptops, new emails, and new tablets. Books, journals, clothes, cameras, watches, literally everything. Jake even ditched his previous car and got a new one. Jake’s paranoia wasn’t a joke, and he fully went through with everything.

He even tried to convince you to move into another town, hell a new country even, but you refused. The two of you were way too close to finishing your majors to just up and leave. You had duties here, the major one being to catch the imposter ghost face. It surprised you at the desperation Jake had to up and leave this life behind, all in the name of keeping you safe.

Jake glanced down at you for a split second, seeing how you took in the new apartment. The blank stare on your face as you looked over every inch of this place. It hurt Jake, honestly. Up and dropping his old life wasn’t easy on him either. But it was all for you. For you, he’d do anything. That’s why he buckled and agreed to stay at the same college and town. He truly wanted to catch the imposter as much as you, but nothing was more important than keeping you alive. Keeping that pretty blood of yours flowing through your veins and keeping that heart beating. Jake wouldn’t know what he would do if something happened to you, and he honestly didn’t want to find out.

He finished screwing in the last screw of the new security system and let out a sigh. He glanced back down at you to already see you staring back up at him, “What’s up, honey?”

You softly pouted, debating if you wanted to ask the question that’s been making circles in your brain, “Where did you get all this money from? To do all this?” guess you decided to ask it anyway.

Jake leaned on the ladder, smirking down at you, “I’m a serial killer, baby, you think I didn’t save money up in case something like this happened?”

You figured that was what his answer would be and you didn’t want to admit you were terrified that he went and robbed a bank or random people. Or stolen from his victims. Jake did have a job, way before you even met him. He saved up every penny from each paycheck into a savings account that wasn’t connected to his main account and was under a different name. Jake wasn’t stupid to keep all his money in his main account. It would raise way too many red flags. That account wasn’t just his money from his job, but from earnings he got growing up. Money from birthdays or when his parents felt like handing him money. He would use some of that money to donate to charity, to make that bank account look less suspicious.

You shrugged up at him, and made yourself comfy on the couch, laying down and stretching out. Jake climbed down from the ladder and walked to your side, “What are you thinking about, my love?”

You sighed, staring into those beautiful brown killer eyes, “That I want to catch whoever is making our lives difficult.”

Jake smiled, climbing onto the couch and laying on top of you, nuzzling his face in your neck, “We’ll catch them, don’t worry baby,” he placed a few kisses to your neck, his hand slowly sliding up your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin, “And once we do, we’ll have a guaranteed spot in our respective fields after graduation.”

You knew he was right. If the two of you managed to catch the imposter you would no doubt have no problems getting your detective jobs. It would be so easy and the town would be stupid to not give you and Jake those positions. You sigh then, realizing that once the imposter is caught, they would be trialed for every crime they have committed—including Jake’s.

Jake and you never discussed it, about what would happen to whoever it was behind the ghost face mask and what crimes they would go to trial for. But deep down, you knew they would take the hit for both theirs and Jake’s. It only made sense. You refused to let Jake go down. You needed him. You’d…kill for him.

His kisses on your neck deepened, his teeth nibbling at the skin and tongue licking up your neck. His hand now made its way up to your breast, squeezing the plush between his fingers.

You softly moaned, tilting your head to give him more access to you. Your eyes fluttered closed and back open, spotting Jake’s duffle bag in the corner of the kitchen.

“Thought you were going to get rid of that?” you asked with a shaky breath, too deep in the pleasure of his touch to sound serious.

Jake chucked against your skin, his breath sending goosebumps and chills down your body, “I will tonight baby,” he pressed his hips to yours, his clothed hard cock rubbing against your heat. He removed his face from your neck and brushed his lips against yours, “How about we stop talking and break into the new couch, shall we?” His hand slid from your breast to the band of your shorts, slipping his hand inside, “Have to make sure the couch won’t break from how hard I am about to pound into you.”

You pushed his duffle bag off to the back of your mind and embraced his lips to yours.

Needless to say, the couch indeed held up from the rough sex Jake gave you.

—

Jake dropped the duffle bag to the ground with a sigh leaving his mouth. He pulled the matches from his back pocket, debating if this was something he even wanted to do. But it wasn’t up for debate, he knew it. This was for you. All for you and the future he wants and will have with you.

Plus he didn’t travel out to this small shitty countryside town for nothing.

Jake has traveled here before to take care of some…things. He knew the town and knew how easily he could slip in and out without a trace.

The town had a small farmer's market and an alleyway where they kept barrels of hay to sell to customers for their farm animals. Jake was in luck to see one was still here and had enough hay in it to catch fire.

He pulled a match from the box, striking the red tip to the side, watching how the flames rose and lit up the alleyway then tossed it into the barrel. It didn’t take long for the fire to spread.

Jake looked back down at the duffle, kneeling down and opening the bag, his ghost face mask staring right back at him. He smirked, rubbing his fingers over the curves of the mask, “It’s been a hell of a ride.”

Without another thought, Jake tossed the black cloak, gloves, and then the duffle bag into the barrel. He took one final look at the mask before tossing it in.

Jake didn’t know how long he stood there staring at the barrel, watching the flames tear a part of him into pieces. He wasn’t sad, no no, he stood there with a smirk on his wash, watching how the white of the mask burnt and crumbled away. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his crazy smile only growing wider.

He finally walked away, feeling the heat of the fire against his back, “I’ve always loved playing with fire.”

—

“Absolutely not!” Jake said with a stern voice, his eyes glaring at you over the top of his laptop.

You shift your weight to one side, crossing your arms, “You know I am the head of the journalism department, right?”

Jake raises a brow at you, “Okay, and?”

You thin your lips in a line, narrowing your eyes, “Excuse you?”

Danielle sat diagonally from Jake to his left, her eyes wide as she looked back and forth between the two of you, “I hate seeing mom and dad fight…” she whispered before standing up quickly, “I’m going to head to my next class…” without another word, Danielle slowly walked out of the office.

Jake waited until the door fully closed before darting his eyes back to his laptop screen, “I said no, end of discussion.”

You understood Jake’s worry, you really did. But without the other department's help, you wouldn’t catch the imposter. Earlier this morning, the dean of your college sent you an offer to pair up with the film and investigation departments to cover more ground for the ghost face cases. It would benefit you to have that help so it’s not just on your and Jake’s shoulders. Mostly with the recent cases.

The imposter went on a killing spree over the course of a week, killing six students on campus, and two random strangers on the street on the edge of town. That’s EIGHT victims within a WEEK. What made these cases so major was the imposter started leaving specific items at each crime scene, clearly in a way to taunt Jake. Another ghost face mask was found at one scene, then a glove at another. The cloak was found at the next crime. A pair of bloody shoes at the next, the exact same knife type Jake has used was found at another. Then another ghost face mask. The other crimes were repeats of gloves and other items. The case was growing bigger and becoming too much for just you and Jake to handle, so when the dean gave you that offer…

“Well, I already said yes, so…” you hummed, not taking your eyes off your boyfriend.

Jake chuckled, “Well, again, I said no. Cancel it, tell them you changed your mind,” He didn’t look up from the screen, typing something. You roll your eyes, slamming the laptop closed. Jake glared at you, “You’re on thin ice, honey.”

You placed your hands flat on the table, leaning towards him but still being far enough away, “I run this department and you’ll deal with this choice whether you like it or not, understand?” he narrowed his eyes at you, “And you can look at me like that all you want, I’m not scared of you Jake.”

You lifted yourself off from the table, barely turning to face away from him before he was on his feet and in front of you, hands on your waist and lifting you onto the table. He pushed between your legs and brushed his lips against your ear, his hands now flat on the table on either side of you, “It turns me on when you talk like that to me, baby,” he rubbed his nose against the shell of your ear, “It’s so fucking hot when you put me in my place.”

He kisses your neck, one hand lifting to the other side to tilt your head, giving him more access, “It’s all true though,” you mumble, barely being able to get the words out.

Jake chuckles against your skin, pressing his growing hard length to your cunt, “I could kill you at any moment, honey, don’t forget who I am.”

You place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back so he can look at you, “You wouldn’t,” you smirked, moving your face inches away from his, noses touching, “I don’t care who you are, Jake Sim, you can’t live without me.”

Jake smirks, pushing his tongue past his lips and licking a stripe against yours then taking your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a soft pull before releasing it. It was true, he couldn’t live without you. “Keep running your pretty mouth and I’ll take you right here on this table.” He bucked his hips against yours, brushing his lips over yours, “I’d fuck you so nice and slow and hard,” he whispered then connected his lips to yours.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but Jake had pulled you to the edge of the table, rocking his clothed hard cock against your heat in a slow but hard motion, his hands running up and down your back as his tongue pressed in and out of your mouth. Jake was so ready to unbuckle his belt and tear your jeans apart to feel that sweet pussy of yours wrapped around him, that was until a knock on the door sounded, and the door was opening.

Jake dropped his face into your neck, backing his lower half away from you and releasing a groan, “Did I interrupt something?”

You quickly push Jake away and drop to the floor, “No, Jay. Everything is fine.”

Jay stood in the crack of the door, his laptop in hand, eyes darting over to Jake, “Nice seeing you again, Sim.”

“Woof.”

Jay rolled his eyes, looking away from him and back at you, “Put your dog on a leash, ya?”

Jake took a few steps forward but you stepped in front of you, “Jake, we aren’t doing this,” you snapped, “Sit down, please.” Jake didn’t take his eyes off Jay as he pulled the chair out and sat down.

Jay smirked, letting a whistle escape his lips in a way of saying “Good dog.” Jake wanted to growl and bare his teeth and bark, showing him what kind of dog Jake could really be.

“Please, come in,” you said, waving your hand to the free seats, “Is Jungwon coming too?”

Jay was the head of the film department. His team mostly covered sports and weather, but occasionally would show up and film crimes, sending your department the footage later to write the articles and publish both to the campus’s website. Jungwon, Jay’s second, as if on command, popped out from behind him, carrying their camera, “I’m here, just fell behind.” You could tell the younger was nervous, giving him a small smile as he walked in and set the camera on the table.

Jake kept his eyes on Jay, studying his every movement. Not liking the way the blonde-haired male would look and smile at you. Jake was against teaming up with the other departments for more than just not wanting Jay around you. He didn’t trust him. Or anyone, for that matter. Jake didn’t care if having extra people around made finding the imposter easier, having these people around put you in danger.

You pinched Jake’s bicep, giving him a look to behave and relax. Jake just shrugs, leaning back in the chair and wrapping his arm around your waist, and pulling you close to him, resting his head on your hip. You ruffled his hair, loving how cute he looked as he scrunched his nose and batted your head out of his hair, fixing what you messed up. It still amazed you how this man was a serial killer. This soft puppy sitting in front of you was secretly insane and committed so many murders but was so soft when it came to you. It was cute, truly.

Another knock and the door slowly slid open, “Am I late to the party?”

You smiled, “Nope! Just in time.”

Heeseung slowly walked into the room, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Good, was worried I might be.”

Lee Heeseung, the head of the investigation department. The poor guy was appointed the department head because the previous one was murdered last week…a victim of the imposter. You’ve met Heeseung a couple of times before, or well, have seen him a couple of times before. Anytime you went to the investigation office for results or photos of the crimes he always sat in the back with his lab coat and goggles over his glasses, as he worked on pieces of evidence the police department let the school borrow.

You could tell he was also nervous, but he had plenty of reasons to be. One was the daggers Jake was sending at him, second, the man was just appointed the department head after his was murdered, and lastly, this was his first major job as the head, having to completely take over the ghost face case and deal with you and Jay on top of it.

Heeseung sat down across from you and beside Jay, running a hand through his hair, “Sunoo should be here soon, he was printing off some extra photos from the murders a few days ago.”

You nodded, finally sitting down beside Jake, “It’s nice to finally talk to you,” you said, leaning your elbows onto the table, “You were always so busy in your little corner anytime I was on that side of the campus.”

Heeseung smiled, “Yeah, I’m in my own little world sometimes. You could probably have imagined my surprise when I was picked to fill in the shoes. I basically had to beg Sunoo to be my second for these cases.”

Sunoo you’ve worked with a few times before, he was shy but such a beautiful ray of sunshine. Had a sparkling personality and always brightened the room with his smile. He was super smart and would make a killer investigator one day.

Jake listened as you, Jay, Jungwon, and Heeseung spoke back and forth. Eyeing their movements and facial expressions, noticing how Jay and Heeseung kept their eyes on you a little too long. Jake knew you were the department head and they were more than likely just being respectful, but Jake couldn’t forget the crush Jay has on you, or clock out Heeseung was basically undressing you with his eyes.

Or maybe Jake was just getting jealous he had to share you with other people. That was probably it.

Sunoo finally showed up, handing everyone their own folders of the photos. Jay opened his laptop up, connected the camera then blue toothing the laptop to the projector in the office to show footage they’ve taken along with footage from the security cameras around campus. You passed along articles and pulled the corkboard out.

Hours passed as the six of you discussed the cases and exchanged information each department had. It surprised you how calm Jake was for the most part. Only getting sassy during specific topics. Jake was all-knowing of ghost face for his specific cases, knowing next to nothing about the imposter.

The meeting finally came to an end and you were very much ready to go home and take a warm shower.

Jake and Jay sat at the table still discussing one of the murders, meanwhile, Jungwon, Sunoo, and Heeseung prepared to leave.

You held the door open for them, thanking Jungwon and Sunoo for attending, ready to do the same for Heeseung but he stopped in front of you. Jake clocked it immediately.

“Thank you for welcoming us into your space,” Heeseung said with a tilt of his head, “It was finally nice getting to work with you.” Heeseung was trying to keep himself calm, shoving his hands into his pockets so you wouldn’t see how badly he was shaking. He found you extremely cute and incredibly smart. He was blown away at today's meeting because of you.

“Likewise,” you smiled at him, “Hopefully this partnership does all of us some good and we catch this ghost face.”

Heeseung pushed his glasses back up, “We are the department heads for a reason, we’ll catch them.”

Jay noticed how clocked out Jake was, pulling his eyes over to you and Heeseung, “You going to bark at him like you did to me?” Jay teased.

“Just might fuck her in front of both of you so you’ll be reminded who she belongs to.”

Jay rolled his eyes, “She’s allowed to have friends, you know.”

Yeah, she is, just not friends with males who want to fuck her and look at her like I do. Only I can look at her like that. Only I can fuck her. Point blank.

Jay signed, crossing his arms, “Listen, Heeseung is a good guy, a little shy, but he’s new to this, don’t bark at him.”

Jake patted Jay’s shoulder, “Okay, buddy,” and with that, Jake was walking towards you.

Heeseung pulled his phone from his back pocket, “I was thinking since we are all working together, we can exchange phone numbers,” he smiled awkwardly, his glasses falling down his nose and him quickly pushing them up, “We can have a group chat as well.”

Before you could answer, Jake wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you to him, “We don’t exchange numbers.”

Right…because you both had to get new phone numbers. No one had your new numbers, not even Sunghoon. “Everyone is a suspect,” Jake said once you got your new phones, “trust no one.”

Heeseung glanced over at Jake, “I’m n-not trying to steal her or anything,” he stuttered, “I just figured it would be easier for us to contact each other so we aren’t running across campus.”

Jake smiled, “We can exchange school emails and our school chat IDs, that should be good enough, ya?”

Heeseung looked at you and all you could do was shrug, apologizing with your eyes.

“Jay,” Jake called, “Come over here, the four of us are going to exchange chat IDs.”

You knew Jake was doing this to protect you and him. He wasn’t going to just hand over your phone numbers that easily. He was playing smart, having to be one step ahead in this game he’s playing with the imposter. The chat IDs were Jake’s only plan to not make it seem suspicious completely, mostly since the IDs were from the college and connected to the college emails. Your numbers were safe.

You all exchanged the IDs and made the group chat, Jay saying he’d add Jungwon later and Heeseung agreeing to the same for Sunoo.

Once the boys left, Jake slid the door closed and locked it, staring at you with hooded eyes, “I’m fucking you on this table like I said earlier.”

You giggled as Jake picked you up in his arms and laid you down on the table. Jealousy was cute on him.

—

You tied red strings around the pushpins on the corkboard and then took a few steps back, resting your body against the kitchen counter. You crossed your arms and let your eyes wander the board. Stopping at each photo of the imposter's crime scenes, and at each item they have left. Looked at the school’s articles and the official news articles that were pinned by each photo. Your laptop sat on the kitchen table, replaying the videos Jay filmed and was kind enough to send to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around these cases was making your brain hurt. Mostly since Jake was stuck at soccer practice for the next couple of hours, you’ve been taking this head on by yourself.

You rubbed your fingers to your temples, needing a much-needed break. So you splash some water on your face from the kitchen sink and gently dab your face with a towel. You pulled a bottle of water and an apple from the fridge, sat on the couch, and propped your feet onto the coffee table. The apartment was quiet and you honestly hated it, wishing Jake’s laughter was echoing off these walls. Jake hasn’t left your side since all this bullshit started happening and the only time he wasn’t with you was his soccer practice. You always offered to go with him and sit in the bleachers, but he always refused. Mostly because he wouldn’t be able to completely focus. He barely was able to focus when you were at the apartment alone, but he knew you’d at least be safer there than at the campus. You’re just instructed to not leave the apartment at all if he wasn’t with you. Which was fair. Jake was able to hold his own because ya know, being a serial killer and all. But you? You were barely a challenge for Jake when he had you pinned to the floor and a knife to your throat after you figured out he was the ghost face. You could barely dominate Jake in the bedroom, he could hold his own. You?? Ehh.

You finished the apple and water, threw away the trash, and got back to work. You sat at the table, flipping through more photos Heeseung sent over and rereading some of the articles Danielle had written. The more you look over everything, the more your brain hurts and that small break did nothing. You sigh, reaching for your backpack in the chair beside you, digging for the documents and articles Jake has created and written, only to not find them there.

“That’s fantastic,” you mumbled, standing from the table and walking to the bedroom, finding Jake’s backpack on the floor by the closet. You bent down and opened it up, digging through his textbooks and folders but not finding the one you were looking for, “Fuck!” you sat on the floor, covering your face with your hands, “This is so fantastic.”

You wanted to call your boyfriend, but you knew he was busy with practice and wouldn’t answer. But you doubt he would even have the articles to begin with. You shot back to his backpack, thinking hopefully his laptop would be in there and sure enough, it wasn’t. Meaning he left it in the office on campus, where the extra copies of the articles would more than likely be. You debate leaving the apartment, knowing you shouldn’t and Jake would be pissed off if he finds out…but he would be gone for hours and wouldn’t even know you left unless he checks the camera footage in the apartment. You tuck your lip between your teeth, ultimately deciding to leave. You’d be there and back before Jake even returned home.

You slipped on your shoes and threw on a hoodie, pulling the hood tightly and comfortably over your head and double checking the door was locked before rushing down the stairs and making your way to campus. Thankfully it wasn’t a far walk.

You quickly made it to the campus, unlocking the door to the office and closing it behind you. The campus was empty and quiet, being that it was the weekend. Made it perfectly for you to slip in and out quicker. Jake’s laptop sat on the table in his spot, just like you figured it would be along with the folder of the copies sitting on top of it. You grabbed both and hurried back out of the office, locking the doors.

You made it to the first floor of the building when your phone started ringing. Your heart sank. He’s going to be so mad. You pulled your phone from your shorts pocket, expecting to see Jake’s name on the screen but instead seeing Unknown Caller. You tucked your lip between your teeth, locking the phone to ignore it. It’s probably just some spam call. You walked out of the building's doors, your phone ringing and the same caller ID popping up.

You looked around the campus, not seeing anyone in sight. You dismiss the call, taking two steps down and your phone rings again with the same ID. You quickly dismiss it and with shaky hands, you dial Jake’s number.

The caller you are trying to reach is unavaila—

“Shit!” you curse, redialing the number and getting the same message.

Fear filled you, hands trembling as you stared at your boyfriend's number then the screen showing the ID calling again.

You locked your phone and quickly went down the rest of the steps, making it halfway away from the building and parking lot when your phone once again rang. You stopped walking, looked around the campus, and finally answered the phone.

“Hello, YN,”

You gripped your phone as it was pressed to your ear, “Hello, imposter.”

“It’s been a while since I last spoke to Jake.” they chuckled, “I wonder why that is?”

“Yeah, crazy.” you whipped around behind you, looking back at the building you came from, then turned back towards the parking lot and looked at the buildings beyond it.

“Isn’t it rude to change your numbers without telling anyone? Jake must have been desperate. Mostly after the very attractive photos I’ve taken of you at your…old apartment.”

You swallowed. Whoever this was, they knew your numbers had changed and that you moved. You kept looking around, trying to find anyone near only to find no one.

“What do you want?” you asked, starting to quickly walk again.

“Like I told Jake, you’ll know soon enough.”

You scoff, picking up your pace.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, YN?” You stopped walking again, heart nearly stopping, “Don’t you know it’s rude…”

You had a bad feeling, body shaking and trembling, “Rude that what?” you asked, but then the line hung up.

You barely had time to realize what was about to happen. They had their arm wrapped around your neck and their knife piercing the skin at your waist just above your rib cage.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to walk away when someone is speaking to you?”

You tilted your head to the side and up, seeing the ghost face mask you were all too familiar with.

You swallowed again, trying to form words but nothing came out but gasps.

Jake slouched against the bleachers, taking his towel and wiping the sweat from his face and hair. Sunghoon sat down beside him, “Practice was hell today.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jake sighs, “I’m ready to go home.”

Sunghoon glanced over at his best friend, “You still not going to tell me where you both moved off to? Or your new number?”

Jake sat still, not looking at his friend, “I have my reasons.”

Sunghoon moved closer, “Did something happen? Jake, this isn’t like you.”

Jake wanted to snap at him that he didn’t know anything about him besides what Jake allowed him to see. He loved Sunghoon, truly did. But with the imposter…he couldn’t trust anyone. Not when his girlfriend's life was on the line.

“Let’s just say it’s a long story, one you’ll know soon enough.” Jake hoped he would accept it and leave it alone. And thank god he did.

Sunghoon sighed and just stood up, “Time to head home, see ya tomorrow?”

Jake stands up too, reaching out for his friend's hand, “Yep, see ya at the skating rink at two pm.”

Sunghoon took his hand, “Make sure YN joins too!” he said as he walked away.

Jake nodded and picked up his bag, heading for the changing room.

Once he was out of his sweaty soccer clothes and cleaned himself and in cleaner clothes, he left the locker room, finally pulling his phone from his duffle, seeing your few missed calls. Jake waited until he was in his car and heading back home before calling you back. The line didn’t even ring and went straight to voicemail. Jake raised a brow, “Okay, weird.” He redialled your number, and it once again went straight to voicemail.

Jake at this point was parked at the apartment, calling you one more time, it rang twice and then ended. Jake quickly got out of the car and ran up the stairs, stumbling with his keys to unlock the door and stepping inside.

“YN!” he yelled, seeing the apartment in one piece and no sign of forced entry. He rushed to the bedroom, still not seeing you. “YN!!” he shouted, still no answer.

Jake was starting to panic. It wasn’t like you to ignore his calls. To leave without telling him or to even just leave. He paced around the living room, pulling up the camera footage on his phone, and seeing you leave the apartment.

“Goddamn this woman!” he bite his tongue, redialing your number once again, “Fucking pick up…please god let her pick up…”

Your phone rang again, and you didn’t have to look at it to know it was Jake.

“Kind of rude to keep ignoring your boyfriend’s calls, isn’t it? Answer it.”

You took a deep breath, feeling your knees going weak, continuing to ignore the imposter.

“I said fucking answer it!” he yelled into your ear, pushing the knife in further.

You grunted out in pain, praying someone was on campus to witness what was happening to you. It was broad daylight on a Saturday afternoon, where was everyone?

You didn’t want to answer the call. Didn’t want Jake to hear what he was about to. Didn’t want the imposter to kill you and have Jake hear it. You knew what Jake would do…

The imposter hisses and pulls your back to their chest, removing their arm from your neck and reaching for your phone, accepting the call and putting it on speaker.

Jake nearly dropped to his knees at hearing the call answer, “YN!” he snapped, “Where the fuck are you?!”

“Hello, Jake.”

Jake’s heart stopped, almost stumbling to the floor before catching himself on the kitchen counter, jaw clenching at the sound of the voice changer, “Where is she?”

The imposter chuckled, “Right here in front of me, say hi, honey,”

Jake tensed at hearing the imposter use the pet name he’d given you, using it as a taunt.

“It’s rude to not say hello to your boyfriend, don’t you think?”

They pushed the knife in further, you gasped in pain.

Jake was already out the door at the sound of your pained gasp, “I swear to god if you—“

“If I what, Jake Sim?” he taunted, “If I kill her? What will you do?”

Jake ran a head through his hair, “I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

They laughed, “Sounds about right coming from a serial killer.”

Your moans filled Jake’s ears, the way you were gasping for air…he needed to get to you. Jake placed the call on speaker and with shaky hands opened the app he installed to find your location, “That makes two of us doesn’t it?” he said, stalling time to find your location, finally pinpointing you at the school.

“I know you’re stalling, Jake,” they whispered, “To find our location.”

Jake snarled, “What do you want?”

Silence, and then, “To see you suffer.”

They pulled the knife out of your side and shoved it back in, creating another wound. Your cries filled Jake’s ear and now he was sprinting to the school.

Your body was shaking, feeling your blood pool out of your skin and down your body and to the sidewalk, “You look even prettier with your blood leaking out,” they laughed, “Jake might be too late.”

Jake ran faster, “Leave her alone!” he screamed completely out of breath.

“Goodbye, Jake Sim.”

Then the call ended.

The imposter tossed your phone off to the side, twisting the knife deeper, pulling it out and back in, making another wound.

Your hands became weak, letting go of the laptop and folder in your hand, dropping to the ground beside you. Your head flung forward, too dizzy from your blood loss to stay upright anymore. You barely felt the knife being removed from your body and their hands letting you go.

You fell, your temple hitting the edge of the sidewalk, blurring your vision even more. The imposter knelt beside you, lifting the knife and wiping your blood on their cloak, the black sleeve falling down, revealing a watch at their wrist. They chuckled, staring at the now clean knife, “It was fun, YN, this time we spent together today.” You stared at the mask through your blurred vision, watching as they stood and walked away. Leaving you to bleed out.

You blinked a couple of times, too weak to try and move, eyes looking up at the blue sky. This was it. This was your end. You thought about Jake and how you wanted to feel his touch, hear his voice. Kiss his lips for the last time. You felt your heart slowing down. It would be any minute now.

“YN!!” you heard from a distance but muffled. “YN!!” it was closer now, still muffled. You closed your eyes and then felt hands on you, “YN, baby, please open your eyes.”

It was Jake. He was here.

You forced your eyes open, barely being able to keep them open for long, but it was enough to see him leaning over you, tears filling his eyes.

Jake pulled you off the sidewalk and into his arms, resting your head on his chest, panicking at the wound on your head, “Oh my god, baby, please speak to me, keep your eyes open.” His warm hand wiped the dripping blood from your face, starting to rock back and forth, “YN, I need you to open your eyes for me, okay baby? Say something to me. I am right here.”

You fluttered your eyes open, but closed them again, opening your mouth to speak, but only gasps coming out.

Jake saw your blood staining your hoodie, carefully lifting the fabric to see three stab wounds and the blood that continued to pool out. Jake pressed his hand to the wounds as hard as he could, feeling you jolt against him, “Shh, I know baby,” he cried, the tears finally falling, panic rising more and his rocks becoming faster, “I am so sorry my love, please stay with me. Hey, open your eyes please, YN. I can’t live without you, please.” You were fading, you knew it. Jake’s cries became more muffled and everything went black.

—

Your eyes fluttered open, the sounds of a heart monitor echoing in what you were assuming was a hospital room. The last thing you remembered was hearing Jake’s screams before passing out. You looked down at your body, seeing all the IVs connecting to the veins in your arms and the hospital band around your wrist. You looked to your right, seeing the hospital door boarded up with chairs. You looked to your left, seeing Jake sleeping soundly against your bed in the chair he pulled up close. His hair had fallen over his eyes, lips parted slightly, hearing his breathing. One hand rested on your thigh, and the other was under his head.

You swallowed, feeling how dry your throat was. You tried to sit up, but Jake felt you shift on the bed, waking him up. He slowly sat up and stood to his feet, standing closer to you and cupping your face, “YN, honey, how are you feeling?”

You blinked a few times, once again trying to sit up, “I’m thirsty,” you said, struggling to speak.

“Here, hold onto me so we can sit you up, okay?” Jake rested his hands under her arms and you gripped onto the sleeves of his shirt, pulling as he used his strength to help you shift up, “Be careful,” he whispered.

Once you were sitting up, Jake helped balance you so he could raise the head of the bed and then help you lean back. He adjusted your pillows helping you feel more comfortable.

“Thirsty,” you said with a raspy voice.

Jake nodded, cupping your face once again, and rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks. His eyes glossed over, trying hard to not let the tears fall again, you were okay. You were safe and alive and breathing. You were here with him. He glanced up at the bandage atop your head, “Does your head hurt?”

You nodded, the pain in your head and your waist fully kicking in, “Both do.”

Jake placed a kiss on your forehead then went to the bedside table, grabbing the bottled water and the pain meds the doctors said to give you once you woke up, “Here, my love.”

He handed you the meds and water. You swallowed to the best of your ability and chugged down the water, handing the bottle back to him. He set it back to the table and sat back down in the chair, pulling it closer.

You stared back at him, watching as he reached for your hand, his fingers twisting at each of yours, before finally clasping his hand with yours, the other covering the top of your hand, “What do you remember?” he softly asked, trying to keep his breathing steady.

“Everything,” you sighed, looking away from him and to the door, “Was that necessary?”

“Of course it was,” he scoffed, “I’m not risking you getting hurt again. Trust no one.”

You tilted your head at your boyfriend, reaching up with your free hand and cupping his face. Jake leaned into your touch, eyes getting glossy again.

“I was scared I lost you.” Jake didn’t ever want to feel what he felt ever again. Seeing you almost lifeless on the sidewalk, your skin cold and your blood staining the grass and concrete. He screamed as loud as he could until finally another student came out of nowhere and called an ambulance. He didn’t leave your side. He paced the halls back and forth at your room until the doctors came out saying you were stable and your wounds were stitched up and bandaged. “I don’t want to ever go through that again.”

You slid your hand down to his shirt collar, pulling him towards you, or well attempting to. You were still too weak, but Jake knew what you wanted. So he carefully stood and inched his face closer to yours, pressing his lips to yours.

He kissed you a couple more times, then sat back down, “What were you doing at the campus?” he finally asked, “I told you to stay home.”

You softly smiled, “I wanted to get your laptop and the articles you wrote.”

Jake sighed, looking down at the bed, “Baby, I had a flash drive at home in the drawer.”

You felt stupid, not even thinking he had other backups, “I’m sorry…” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

“Shhh, no,” he said, cupping your face, “Don’t cry, it's okay, I am not mad. I was worried about you.” Jake was more than worried. He was terrified. He didn’t know what he would have done if he found you dead. He’d probably hunt down the imposter, get revenge for what he did to you, and then kill himself. This world wasn’t worth living in if you weren’t living in it.

You leaned into his face, kissing the palm of his hand, “I shouldn’t have left.”

Jake just smiles at you, “Tell me everything that happened, from start to finish.”

So you did. Giving him every detail possible.

—

“YN,” Jake sighs, pushing your hands off him, “You need rest.”

All Jake did was come into the bedroom to check on you and give you the pain meds the doctors prescribed to you and you didn’t waste a chance to jump his bones.

You cross your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes and pouting. Jake smiles and tilts his head at you, “Stop pouting and take your meds.”

It’s been a week since the incident. A week of laying in this bed and Jake taking care of you while also doing what he could to piece together and solve the imposter ghost face cases. The imposter has been quiet since you encountered him, no phone calls to either yours or Jake’s phone, or even any more murders. Whoever they were, they weren’t radio silent.

Except for Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Jay of course. Sunghoon arrived at the hospital after hearing the rumors being spread around campus of Jake crying and screaming for help because you were hurt. Heeseung and Jay spammed the group chats you all had for the investigation, asking if you needed anything and of course Jake answering for you saying no.

Sunghoon now officially knew where the two of you lived, Jake forcing—and threatening—him to keep his mouth about the location of the apartment and to never come over unless he was told to. Sunghoon finally understood now why Jake was being the way he was, all to protect you.

“I’ve been resting for a week,” you scoffed with a click of your tongue, “I can walk perfectly fine and even use the bathroom and shower on my own.”

Jake blankly stares back at you, refusing to answer until you take the water and medicine from his hand. So you did, swallowing the pills down with the water. You set the water bottle down on the nightstand, glaring at him.

He glared back, “If I give you a kiss will you rest?”

You relaxed your face and nodded. To say you’re deprived of sex would be…silly to say in the least. Jake normally fucked you any chance he could get. But after you got hurt…he didn’t want to risk hurting you or your stitches coming out. He’s told you this, but the more time that passes, the more you crave him.

Jake sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down and connecting your lips together. Jake held your lips a bit longer, giving you a few more kisses then slowly standing up. You sat up reaching your hands for his shoulders and pulling yourself to your knees and reconnecting your lips to his, pressing your body to his chest.

“YN,” he said between kisses, hovering his hands over your hips and then shoving you back down to the bed. He was quick to put his hands on your shoulders and push you back down in a lying position. He kept his hand on your shoulders as you glared up at him. Jake wanted to fuck you, oh how badly he wanted to fuck you. He was tired of fucking his cock with his fist the past week, but you needed rest. At least until your stitches were safe to be removed. But that still didn’t stop you from trying to fight against the hold he had on your shoulders.

“YN,” he sighs, “You’re fucking insane,” he slowly removed his hands from your shoulders, “You were stabbed three times and hit your head, stay the fuck down.”

Hmmm. Nah.

You grabbed him by his shirt collar, using your slow returning strength, and pulled him down onto the bed and climbed into his lap, “Funny how you call me insane,” you start to tease him, removing your shirt from your body, exposing your bare chest, “When you’re literally a serial killer.”

Jake was hard. His hands settled onto your hips and looping his fingers into the thin fabric of your panties, “You’re dating a serial killer, my love. Doesn’t that make you just as insane as me?”

“What makes you insane,” you whispered, sliding your hands under his shirt and lifting the clothing up, “Is not giving your insane girlfriend what she wants,” you pulled his shirt off his body, running your hands down his broad chest and abs, stopping at the waistband of his shorts. You brush your lips against his, watching how lustful his expression was becoming, “Fuck me, Jake.”

Jake tore his fingers into your panties, tearing them in half and tossing them to the floor, “Lift up for me, baby.”

You held onto his shoulder as you lifted yourself up, your breasts now eye level with his face. Jake leaned forward, placing his face between your breasts, kissing them down the middle, his hands cupping them, squeezing them to his face, and taking your skin between his teeth and sucking gently, slowly working his way to your nipple and taking it in his mouth. He sucked on the sensitive nub, hands flying to his shorts and pulling them off him. Jake bit your nipple and pulled slowly, letting it slip from his teeth. He reattached his lips to it, licking and giving it one final kiss before looking up at you, “I need you on my cock, honey.”

Jake lined his tip to your entrance, one hand on your hip as you slowly slid down him.

“Fuck,” Jake breathes, resting his head on your shoulder as his tip kissed your cervix, “Fuck you feel so good.”

A week without your pussy was a week too long and it took everything in Jake to not fuck his hips up into you, letting you completely take control.

You started off slow, letting yourself adjust to his size and working up your speed. His cock felt so fucking good rubbing against your walls. You’ve craved this, craved him and his touch. You were already losing yourself on his dick, bouncing on him as if it were the last time.

“Jake,” you moaned out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Oh, fuck, Jae.”

He bit his lip, flinging his head back and squeezing your thighs, using every ounce of self-control he had to not fuck you senseless, “Fuck, baby,” he moans, “Keep going, oh fuck please keep fucking yourself on my cock.”

You bounced faster, his tip hitting all the right spots.

Jake groaned, sliding his hands carefully to your waist, trying to be gentle to not irritate your wounds more than what they probably already were. He was starting to lose himself to your cunt, becoming a moaning mess each time you clench around him, “YN, I’m going to cum if you keep clenching me like that, honey.”

You kept moving, sliding up and down, up and down, rocking your hips as fast as you could go to chase your climax, “I wa-wanna cum,” you gasp, legs getting tired but still pushing nevertheless.

“Yeah?” Jake whispered, wrapping his arm carefully around your waist, “Baby wants to cum?” You nod, biting your lip. Jake pressed you to him, flipping you over and lying you down on your back, “I’ll make you cum, honey, make you feel so fucking good.”

You gasped as he fucked into you, using his knees to push your legs further apart, giving him more access.

You dug your nails into his back, moaning his name repeatedly each time his tip hit your g-spot. You are nearly a second away from cumming. Jake pistoned his hips against yours, hands gripping the bed sheets between his fingers, “Cum for me baby, let it go.”

Jake thrust hard into you, pushing his cock as far as it could go the moment he felt your cum wrap around his cock, “Jae,” you breathed running your hands up into his hair, “Jaeyun.”

He kept pushing into you, groaning when he finally pulled out and pushed back in, rocking his hips so fast, “Going to fill this pussy so full of my cum,” he places his lips onto yours, “Fuck, going to cum so deep in this cunt.”

Jake’s movements got sloppy, breathing becoming uneven as he kept his lips pressed to yours. Jake wanted to cum so bad, it’s been a week since he’s been able to pump his load into your sweet cunt, to feel you clench around him at the feeling of his cum filling you whole. Oh, he couldn’t wait, knowing he could burst at any moment…

“I’m cumming, oh fuck I’m cumming,” he moans against your lips, thrusting a final time and painting your walls, his cum leaking from your pussy.

Jake rode out his high, slowly catching his breath. He pulled out of you with a grunt, shifting to your left and lying beside you, pulling your face to him to kiss your cheek.

You smiled and softly laughed, feeling satisfied and so full. Jake was happy seeing you smile, his eyes rolling down to the bandages on the right side of your waist. His smile slowly faded, his fingers tracing over the bandage. He almost lost you. Almost was never able to see your smile and hear your laugh ever again. His blood boiled.

“Jake,” you whispered, seeing him lost in thought, “Babe,”

Jake looks into your eyes, “I’m going to kill them, for doing this to you.” You frown, placing a hand on his face. He leaned into your touch, “I’d set this world on fire for you, ya know,” he whispered, his facial expression relaxing, “I’d let it burn and tear apart into ashes and nothingness. Let it completely burn for you.” You leaned into him, laying your head against his chest, his arms pulling you tighter to him. Jake kissed the top of your head and stared up at the ceiling, “I’m going to end that fucker for what they’ve done to you and burn this fucking world down.”

—

Jake stared down the other two males in front of him, burning holes into their bodies.

Jay stared back, brows furrowed. Heeseung only glanced up every few seconds, trying to keep his eyes glued to his laptop, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Say some shit,” Jay said with a cool calm with irritation.

“Some shit,” Jake smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

You just roll your eyes, “Can we not today? We have work to do.”

Jake’s smirk turned into a frown, body relaxing and leaning into you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“He really is like a dog,” Jay scrunched his nose, “No wonder he barks so much.”

“Woof.”

You drop your head into your palms, rubbing your eyes, “Jaeyun Sim, please.”

Jake has been overprotective of you ever since returning back to campus. Your stitches were removed, but the scar and irritation were still present. It hurt to breathe at times or move certain ways, but you wouldn’t let it affect you. You needed to catch the imposter, after all.

“Anyways,” Heeseung mumbled, eyeing Jake one last time before looking at the laptop, “The police report finally came back from your case, YN. And the photos my team took are pulled up here as well.” Heeseung sent both files to the group chat.

“I’m uploading the…” Jay started saying, quickly glancing down at his phone, his jaw flexing then flipping the phone over on the table face down, “Anyways, I am uploading the news report we filmed on top of the official news report from the town,” Jay typed away at his computer, the files popping up in the group chat.

The four of you looked over the files and reports. Five minutes turned into an hour, and an hour into two. Yet nothing stood out in your case.

The imposter didn’t leave or take anything at the scene of the crime. They even left Jake’s laptop and folder. Which was odd, considering the imposter would want to take that information? Right? Nothing was adding up. Nothing made sense. Whoever this imposter was, they were thorough, and clean, only left behind what they knew couldn’t be traced back to them. This was a game to them. And they are somewhere laughing their ass off right now.

Heeseung leaned back in the chair, flinging his head back and pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head, pulling his dark hair up with it. His fingers rubbed at his eyes, “Is there anything any of you can think of that we are skipping over?” he sighed, “Not just with YN’s case?”

Jay also sighed, his phone buzzing and him looking back at it, carefully lifting it up, then setting it back down, “Not that I know of,” he looked at you, “Is there anything you remember that happened when you were attacked?”

Jake traced his eyes back and forth between you and Jay and Jay’s phone, tuning out your story, not on purpose, of course, he’s heard you retell your attack multiple times now. The more he hears it, the more pissed he gets. Jay’s phone buzzed again, “Are you going to answer whoever it is that’s spamming you?” Jake said, tilting his head, “It’s been going off nonstop since you’ve been in here.”

Jay thinned his lips, “I apologize, there’s stuff going on with my family and the arcade.”

Jake chuckled, “Ahh, the fun arcade.” Jay glared at him, clearly remembering what Jake did in his arcade.

You rolled your eyes again, tapping your fingers on the table, “This is irritating.”

Heeseung sat back right in his chair, looking over at you and giving you a small smile, “Hey,” he whispered, leaning closer to you and placing his hand on top of yours, making Jake’s blood boil, “We’ll catch this guy, yeah?”

Jake swatted Heeseung’s hand off yours, “Hands off.”’

Heeseung blankly stared at Jake and gave a soft nod, pulling his glasses back to his nose, “I apologize.”

Jake held both your hands in his now, protecting them from being touched again. Eyeing the fuck out of Heeseung.

You pushed aside your boyfriend's jealousy, staring at your laptop screen, looking over every piece of evidence, “Wait!” You said, pulling your hands out of Jake’s and typing away at your computer.

“Find something, honey?” Jake asked, peeking over to your screen.

“I forgot I put in a request for some specific reports and evidence from all the ghost face cases from start to now,” you could feel Jake shift in his chair, not because you are pulling his murders, but all of them combined. It was genius. It would be an easier way to read each of them and find the differences instead of just looking at the pictures and the news reports and articles or trying to piece each puzzle together on your corkboard. This all-in-one combo could give the advantage needed. Jake could fuck you right here in front of everyone and not give a damn. “I put in the request while in the hospital, they should be ready by now.”

Heeseung was now towering over your laptop to get a look, but quickly sat down after a glare from Jake. He’s way too easy to fuck with. Jake smirked.

“They are ready!” You stood from the chair, going to take a step.

“Woah,” Jake said, grabbing your arm, “Where are you running off to?”

You looked at your boyfriend, then the other two males, “The police station?”

“Like hell you are!” Jake snapped, “You aren’t going anywhere!”

Heeseung looked up at you with pleading eyes, “YN, he’s right. You literally got attacked two weeks ago, you shouldn’t be going anywhere alone.”

“Heeseung gets it!” Jake pointed a finger at him, “Sit back down.”

“We need those papers!” you retort, trying to pry your arm out of his grasp.

“I’ll go get it,” Jay said, looking back down at his phone again, “I have to stop by the news office anyways and get something from Jungwon before heading out, I’ll bring the reports here right after.”

You wanted to protest, but with the three of them, you knew you’d lose. So you just nodded, giving him a small “Thank you, Jay.”

He shoved his phone into his pocket and smiled back at you, reaching over to ruffle your hair and walk to the door, “No problem, stinks.” Then he was out the door.

“Stinks?” both Jake and Heeseung said in unison, both side-eyeing you.

You shrug, “He said I reeked of dog—aka Jake—the other day before Jake’s cologne was strong and rubbed off on me, then he started calling me stinks.”

Jake scrunched his nose, “I don’t ever want him calling you that again.”

Even Heeseung scrunched his nose, “It’s an odd nickname to give someone.”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s being a big brother, kind of.”

Jake shook his head, “Nope. We aren’t doing this.”

“Anyway,” Heeseung said, looking at you with his heart smile, “Want to get some lunch from the cafe on campus?”

“Absolutely! I’ve been craving their coffee and wanting to try that new raspberry pastry!”

You pulled out of Jake’s grasp and piled your belongings together and shoved them in your backpack, tossing them over your shoulders. Heeseung did the same, noticing Jake’s glare, “Are you coming as well or?” Heeseung asked.

“Oh? I’m invited?” Jake scoffed, “You weren’t trying to just get my girlfriend alone with you?”

Heeseung’s glasses fell down to the bottom of his nose as he continued to pack up his things, looking away from Jake, “Considering you don’t let her have any friends, yeah guess you’re invited too.”

Jake stood to his feet, not liking that Heeseung was talking back to him right now, “Considering my girlfriend had her life threatened and was stabbed three times, excuse me for not letting her out of my sight,” he counters.

Heeseung pushed his glasses up, “I get it, but I wouldn’t hurt her. But I get it. That’s why I am extending an invitation to you too. You also could use some friends besides Sunghoon.”

Jake raised his brow. You looped your arm with Jake’s and Heeseung’s, pulling him out of his thoughts, “Come on you two, let’s just get some food. We can invite Jay and Jungwon too, even Sunoo! Where is he by the way?” You asked, “I know Wonnie had an exam and project to work on from what Jay said, what about the sunshine?”

Heeseung smiled and shrugged, “Sunoo had class and work later, but don’t worry I’ll get him caught up on everything we talked about today.”

You nodded, pulling the two boys with you towards the doors, “I’m starving!”

Jake and Heeseung glanced at each other, allowing you to pull them both towards the cafe.

—

Jake crossed his arms, staring up at the corkboard here at the office. It’s almost two-thirty in the morning, and nothing but the moonlight peeking from the windows lit up the room. Jake was thankful you had two exact copies of the corkboard for both the apartment and the office, making it easier than carrying the big damn thing back and forth all the time.

He glances down at his phone propped on the corner of the corkboard on the railing, all the cameras in the apartment pulled up on the screen. His eyes shift to the one in the bedroom, seeing you fast asleep in your shared bed. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he didn’t want to wake you up and drag you here either, all because he couldn’t sleep and needed to wrap his head around this case.

Jake pulled the papers you requested from the police station earlier out of his backpack, reading over it. It’s been the fourth time he’s looked at this, rereading over his ghost face cases and the imposters, trying to find the fine line that would point to who this imposter was. But the more he looked over it, the more his brain hurt.

He tossed the papers to the table, running his hands through his hair. Jake had a mental list of suspects, trying to match each person to the cases, but nothing added up.

Jake assumed it was someone close, not specifically close to him, but close in a way they’ve known about his crimes for the longest time. Known who he was. Jake’s first suspect was Sunghoon, since his best friend was the one who planted it into your mind of the possibility Jake was the ghost face. But Jake continued to keep tabs on Sunghoon, and he hasn’t done or said anything out of the ordinary for Jake to really actually keep him on the list. So he was shoved out. The others? Full game.

Jake’s next one on the suspects' list is Jay. Jay had always had a small crush on you, and that hasn’t changed even after working with him on the cases. Not to mention he oddly kept checking his phone today and was so quick to offer to get the papers for you. Either he really was just being a protective brotherly figure to you, or he’s the imposter. Jake also didn’t like the attention Jay gave you, still wanting to string Jay’s body from the ceiling of his arcade.

Heeseung was the third on the list but also the least of Jake’s concerns. Heeseung was skittish and very shy. Very much in love with you, it was obvious. Heeseung looked as if he was about to crawl into his turtle shell and never come back out. He only spoke when spoken to really, unless he had something to say and even then it was quiet and not munch. His department head was also murdered and he was forced to step up, the likeliness of Heeseung being the imposter was slim.

The rest Jake had on the list were Danielle, Jungwon, Sunoo, and a few others on his soccer team and people in his classes.

Jake kept rotating the suspect list, trying to pinpoint exactly who would have such a grudge against him to become a copycat murderer. Someone who clearly wanted to watch him suffer, as the imposter said.

He ran the statement you told him at the hospital over and over in his head, then looked back at the reports, looking at the corkboard, and then pulled up all the files Jay and Heeseung have shared with everyone on his laptop.

Something clicked in Jake’s brain. His eyes widened. He quickly typed away at his computer, fingers rushing across the keys and eyes darting over every piece of information that was laid out in front of him.

He smirked, the corners of his lips curling as a laugh escaped his lips, it echoing against the quiet walls of the office, “No fucking way,” he leaned back in the chair, throwing his hands behind his head, “I got you, imposter.”

Jake wasn’t one hundred percent sure he figured it out, but he knew. He just knew. All Jake needed was the full solid proof. And it was his mission now to figure out a way to get it.

Jake thought about how he found you two weeks ago, how close you were to death, how close he was to losing you. Jake never was so terrified in his life. Seeing the love and light of his life passing the line of life and death, it killed him. Drove him into a frenzy of wanting to murder every single damn person in this town and the next one over to make sure he got the imposter. But alas, that wasn’t an option. But that didn’t matter now, you would be avenged soon.

All Jake had to do was make his preparations, which he did before finally heading back to the apartment.

—

Jake pressed your body against the cool wall of the shower, your face connecting to the wall with a moan. He wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling your face from the wall, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear as the hot water spilled between your bodies.

He slid in and out of you with such ease, pulling and yanking at your hair, teeth biting your ear, tongue sliding up and down your ear, soft moans escaping his lips with each thrust and kiss of his tip to your cervix, “Fuck baby, can’t get enough of you.”

You balanced your hands on the wall, slightly pushing yourself down and lifting back your hips so Jake could pound into you easier, “Jaeeee,” your whimper, “Gonna cum soon.”

He smirked, “Yeah, babe?” he slowed his thrusts, yanking your hair and forcing your back to connect to his wet chest, “Wanna cum? And make a mess of my cock?” you nod, reaching your hands up and into his wet hair.

Jake wanted to ruin your pussy. Wanted to fuck you so good you wouldn’t be able to walk for weeks. Fucking you slowly was driving him crazy but oh god it felt so damn good. His breaking became uneven, his moans getting louder. He wanted to cum. To fill your cunt to the brim with his seed and hear your pretty little moans once you feel it seeping out your hole.

He removed his hand from your hair, sliding his hands down your arms and to your breasts, tracing their outline and flicking your nipples then continued down to your belly and sliding to your waist.

Jake looked down at your body, loving how it moved with his cock sliding against your walls, eyes taking notice of your stab wounds. Jake locked his jaw as he traced his fingers over the still-healing wounds. Your stitches are gone now, but the scars will now last you forever. A remembrance of what happened to you. A reminder to Jake of what was done to you.

You felt Jake was disconnected, in some faraway land as he stared down at your wounds, “Jake,” you whisper, tilting your head up to look at him, “Look at me,” Your hand touched his cheek and his eyes looked to you, worried filling them, “I’m alive. I’m here and I’m alive thanks to you,” you slid your hand to the back of his neck, pulling him down, your lips brushing over his, “You’re literally balls deep in my pussy right now, focus on me.”

He smirked against your lips, then kissed you hard. Your chest was now back against the wall. One of his hands was on your clit, and the other was on your hip. His hips fucked up into you harder and faster than before, your knees buckling, “Hmm what is it, babe?” He coos in your ear, “You said you wanted to cum, so I’m going to make you cum.”

You moaned his name on repeat, fingers trying their hardest to grip to the wall and praying your knees don’t give out on you. You just wanted to take a nice warm shower before cuddling with Jake on the couch and watching movies, he obviously had other plans. Pulling back the curtains already naked and cock hard in his hands, eyes leading with you as he stepped into the shower with you, “Baby, I need you to take care of this. Need you so bad.” You weren’t complaining, shower sex then cuddling afterward? Still a win-win.

His finger of your clit with the help of his cock buried deep inside you, your orgasm approached, coating his cock, “That’s it, such a good girl for me, making such a pretty mess on my cock,” he kissed your temple, “I’m fixing to cum, squeeze me tighter, honey.” You clenched around him and he gasped, whimpering out as his breathing became more unsteady. Heart racing as he felt the build-up, cock twitching, “I’m cumming, I’m cu-cumming.”

Jake shoved his cock as far as he could into your pussy, hips pressing hard against your ass as his white ropes shot between your gummy walls. Jake already knew he came a lot, he could feel it seeping out your hole and physically see it was dripping down your leg.

“I came so much,” he whispered and chuckled, slowly pulling out and cupping your cunt with his hand, shoving his fingers inside, “Can’t let it go to waste, wanna breed you.”

You leaned back into your boyfriend and smiled. You wanted to tease him that you were on birth control, but let him smile and kiss you as he continued to fuck your cunt with his fingers.

You finally were able to convince Jake that it was time to finish the shower and get out, mostly now that the water was cold. Jake stood behind you with nothing but his basketball shorts on, running a brush through your hair as his other hand held the hairdryer. He stopped every couple of minutes to place a kiss on your head and whisper he loved you. He even gave you one of his favorite sweatshirts and a pair of his boxers for you to wear to be comfy. You figured his actions were all the cause of you getting stabbed. Hell if this is what it took for him to be this sweet, you’d get stabbed again(totally not, because that shit sucked. You’d never want to go through it again).

Once your hair was dry, Jake pulled you into the living room, “Want popcorn, my love?”

You smiled, giving him a nod, “Of course! Can’t have movie night with…out…” your smile faded. Causing Jake’s smile to fade as well.

Your eyes widened, everything happening way too fast before you could tell Jake to move.

Jake felt something was off when he saw how you looked behind him. He quickly whipped around, being met face to face with ghost face, their knife sliding into his chest just below his collar bone. He grunts out in pain, but uses the strength he had to push you away from them and onto the floor, then quickly grasping their wrists. It’s not there… Jake pushed the ghost face back, sending them back a couple of steps away.

Jake took a few quick deep breaths and pulled the knife from his chest, tossing it across the living room. The ghost face was moving back towards Jake, swinging his fist but missing as Jake ducked down.

Blood was gushing down his chest, making him lightheaded, and once he was low enough to the ground, his knees betrayed him and gave out, connecting to the floor and hands gripping his wound.

The ghost face came prepared, pulling another knife from their cloak pocket, and walked up behind Jake, grasping a handful of his hair and yanking his head up. Jake gritted his teeth as he stared up at the mask, the knife resting against his throat.

“Goodbye, Sim.” The voice mod said with a shake in their voice.

Jake just smiles up at him.

Time seemed to have slowed for you just then. Your heart racing as you see the imposter hovering over Jake, panic filling you. You were going to watch him kill Jake. They were going to kill Jake then kill you. Your breathing became uneven as you stared at him, watching as he smirked and laughed at the person standing over and about to kill him. How could he be laughing with a knife to his throat? The knife. Where was the knife?

You looked where Jake tossed it at, seeing it near the couch, his blood staining the blade and the carpet it sat beneath. With shaky legs, you stood to your feet, moving as fast as your legs would carry you, picking up the knife.

The ghost face tilted his head, “What is so funny?”

“You’re not the ghost face, Park.”

Before he could respond to Jake, you plunged forward, pushing the knife into his shoulder, his screams filling the apartment and his blood coating your face as you yanked the knife out. With all your strength you pulled at the cloak, digging your foot into the back of his knee and sending him to the ground.

The moment his back touched the floor, you straddled over his abdomen, the knife piercing into his chest, pushing it further in into the hilt touching his skin.

“Wait! Fuck please wait!”

You snarled. He just stabbed your boyfriend and nearly killed you weeks ago and he had the guts to beg? Fuck. This.

You pulled the knife out and shoved it back in, “You think you can just beg for your life now?” You snapped.

“It’s Jay!! Please, YN, STOP!!” You sat still, feeling Jay’s hands on your thighs. He gasped for air and you went back to panicking.

You quickly pulled the mask off his face, seeing the sweat build up on his forehead and blonde hair sticking to his face. Blood dripped out of his mouth and fear covered every inch of his face.

“It’s…you…” you whispered.

Jay shook his head to the best of his ability, “I’m not the ghost face.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Jake said, standing behind you, eyes burning into Jay, “How the fuck did you find out where we lived?”

Jay gasped more for air, more blood spilling from his chest and shoulder wounds.

“Jake, call an ambulance!!” You snapped, pulling the knife from Jay’s chest and pressing your hands to the wounds, “NOW!! You need help too!”

Jake held the pressure still to his chest and repeated, “How the fuck did you find out where we lived, Jay Park.”

Jay took as deep of a breath as he could, squeezing your thighs, “I didn’t. The real ghost face called me one night, telling me he knew who I was, and who my family was, saying he had a job for me.”

Jake narrowed his eyes, “Keep fucking talking.”

“I laughed and ended the call. A few days later a duffle bag filled with money appeared on my front porch, with a note telling me to answer my phone, so when it rang, I answered, hearing that stupid voice mod on the other end,” he gasped for air again, “They mentioned the job again, and that the money was my payment. I asked what the job was, and they told me to kill you, Sim.”

Jake’s face was unchanged, but your heart was racing. You stared at Jay, his eyes looking back at you, his thumbs rubbing against your skin.

“I declined at first, I couldn’t take him away from you, YN. No matter my feelings for you I couldn’t do it. I donated the money to charity and went on about my business. The next day you were attacked.”

You kept the pressure on his chest, tears now filling your eyes, “Jay…”

“After that I tried calling the number over and over, figuring it was a burner phone. But once you returned back to campus, I started receiving text messages,” You recalled the memory, Jay’s phone constantly buzzing and Jake snapping at him to answer it, “The texts told me that if I didn’t kill Sim, they would kill not just YN, but my family. They sent me photos of my parents at their jobs, photos of my friends in their homes, and photos of Jungwon in the new rooms. Photos of YN the day she was stabbed walking into campus and then photos of her bleeding out on the sidewalk and the last photo of you Sim, from the journaling office, wearing the exact clothes you did the day I received all those texts, meaning the killer had to be nearby.”

Jake processed the information and then kneeled down to Jay’s face, “How did you find out where we lived?”

“They sent me your address,” he swallowed but then coughed, the red liquid now dripping down his neck, “They gave me a time frame on when I had to do it. Told me the password to the gates of the apartment complex, which building, floor, and apartment number.”

Jake tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, “And you thought you could just walk in here and kill me? Don’t you know who I am? That I’m fucking insane. Mostly when my girl's life is on the line?”

Jay closed his eyes tightly, releasing a groan, “Trust me, after the day you fucked her in my arcade I knew you were fucking crazy.” Jay’s words were now shuddering, his voice becoming softer, “I was…scared. I couldn’t…lose my family and friends.”

“Who is the ghost face?” Jake tested.

“I…don’t…know.”

You looked up at Jake, begging him, “Call an ambulance, Jake. Please!” you started crying, blaming yourself for if Jay died, “Jake!”

Jake stood, taking a few steps back. He understood Jay’s desperation. If some wack ass killer in a white mask and black suit told him to murder someone or else they would kill you, he’d do every task they asked of him.

“Where is your phone?” He asked Jay.

Jay couldn’t form words, but nodded to his pocket. You let go of his chest for enough time to pull the phone from the cloak, Jake taking it from your hands, the phone soaked red.

You continued to beg Jake to call an ambulance, tears staining your face as more of Jay’s blood stained the carpet and Jake’s eyes started to unfocus.

—

You sat on the table in the office, kicking your feet back and forth and fingers gripping the edge of the table. A knock hit the door, and you looked in its direction, “Come in.”

Heeseung popped his head in, glasses falling to the tip of his nose, “You called a meeting?”

You smiled and nodded, “Come on in.”

Heeseung fully walked in, taking a look around the room, “Where is everyone else?” He asked, raising his brow.

“They should be here soon,” you leaned back a bit against the table, “It’s just you and me for right now.”

Heeseung awkwardly nodded, fingers playing with the straps of his backpack and looking down to the floor.

“Why don’t you come over here?” You playfully said, “Set your stuff done and come here.” The corners of his lips pulled into a small smile. He nodded again and dropped his bag to the floor.

Heeseung stood across from you, leaning against the filing cabinet, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

You look him up and down, “Jake told me you had a crush on me.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened, ears burning red, “H-He what? That’s silly, YN.” He looked away from you and back to the floor.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Seungie,” he looked back up at you. You spread your legs apart, “What if I told you I felt the same way?” Heeseung swallowed, eyes trailing down to your bare legs, shorts riding up your crotch, “Come here, Hee.”

Heeseung pushed himself off the cabinet and walked up to you.

You tilted your head, “Come closer.” You shot your eyes down between your legs and back up to his face.

Heeseung took a step back, “No, we can’t do this.”

“Jake won’t find out,” you whispered, reaching up and grabbing the collar of his tee shirt, pulling him between your legs.

You wrapped them around his hips, locking him into place. You kept your fingers on his collar, pulling him closer, “You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” you teased him, blowing your breath onto his glasses, watching them fog up.

Heeseung shot his hands to your thighs, “Don’t tease me,” he whispered, the fog lifting off his glasses, revealing his blown-out eyes.

You scooted yourself closer, your ass barely hanging off the table, and pulled him even closer with your legs, his hard length now pressing to your stomach. You smirked, “A little excited, are we?”

Heeseung’s hands slid up your thighs, squeezing and yanking you closer, shifting himself to press his length to your heat, “I told you to not tease me.”

You snaked your hands up to his neck, playing with his hair, “I have to be honest, I didn’t call a meeting. Only you.”

Heeseung cutely giggled, thumbs rubbing the plush of your skin, “Only me?”

You nodded, “Come closer.”

Heeseung leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, “I want to kiss you so bad…can I?”

You brushed your lips back, “Can I tell you something first?”

He rocked his hips against you, “Anything.”

“How did it feel?” Heeseung moves away a few inches, looking at you in confusion, “How did it feel to stab me three times and leave me for dead, Mr. Ghost face?”

His hand was now in your hair, pulling your head back and a yelp escaped your mouth.

Everything about Heeseung changed. His body straightened out, face from relaxed to hard, jaw locked and eyes piercing. You looked up at him in fear, and he just laughed.

“You finally figured me out huh?” even his voice was different. It was no longer the cute bubbly tone, but now it was chilling and cold. He pulled your hair back further, giving you no choice but to look at him, “Or should I say, the original figured me out.”

You swallowed, “Why did you do it? I trusted you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Heeseung smirked, lifting his other hand from your thigh and caressing your face, the watch you’ve seen before sitting on his wrist perfectly, “Why did I do it? Do what? Gotta be more specific.”

You’ve done this dance before with Jake, “Why did you commit those murders? Why did you stab me?”

He smirked even wider, “Because it was fun,” his voice sent chills down your spine, “And for why I stabbed you?” he leaned forward, brushing his nose to your jaw, “Because I wanted to watch the love of my life bleed out.” His breath formed goosebumps on your neck and he chuckled, gently planting a kiss on your neck, “It was so easy to convince Jay to break into your apartment,” he stood back up, “All I had to do was threaten your life. You have a lot of crazy people in your corner, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You took a few deep breaths in, trying to stay calm, “You wanted Jake to suffer, why?”

Heeseung leaned back inches away from your face, “Because he has something that I want, a few things, actually.” He ran his hand back down to your thigh, snaking his fingers under your shorts, “Where is he, by the way? Does he know where you are right now? He is a crazy fucking dog after all.” You glanced over Heeseung’s shoulder.

“This crazy fucking dog is right behind you,” Jake hissed, a knife now pressing to Heeseung’s throat, “And I suggest you back the fuck off my girlfriend before I start barking and slit your throat.”

Heeseung released his hands off you, slowly backing away with Jake, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Jake chuckled, patting Heeseung’s back, “This is my office, you don’t think I don’t know every inch of this room from top to bottom to hide in? For a serial killer, you’re fucking stupid.”

Heeseung gritted his teeth, “Go to hell.”

Jake pressed the blade more into his skin, “It’s crazy how you were able to mimic everything I did, even down to the weapon and clothes, stalker much?”

“Had to learn somehow,” Heeseung countered with a smirk, “At least I succeeded in almost killing YN, versus you folding the minute her legs were spread.”

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Jake barked, “I will spill your blood so fucking fast don’t try me.”

The rage Jake was feeling at this moment, the rage that was boiling, and every instinct telling him to slide Heeseung’s throat for the hell he’s put him through. For hurting you.

Heeseung laughed, “Your buttons are so easy to push when YN is involved.”

You pierce your eyes into him, “If Jake doesn’t kill you, I will!”

Heeseung tilted his head back, “Like how you almost killed Jay?”

That statement was enough proof to show Heeseung had access to your cameras, he was watching the entire thing unfold.

“Anyway,” Jake clicked his tongue, “Where is your sidekick?”

Heeseung chuckled, “My what?”

Jake sighed, “Should we ask Sunoo about it instead? I know he’s outside that door. Ain’t that right, Sun?”

The door opened and a smiling Sunoo walked in, “Figured us both out that easily?”

“We figured Heeseung had help,” you said, pushing yourself off the table and picking up his backpack and placing it on the table, “Jake and I discussed this plenty at the hotel room we’ve been in the last couple nights, that he had to have help. Heeseung was too calm while Jay’s phone was getting spammed. Heeseung didn’t even have his phone out. How did he receive those texts?”

You opened the backpack, seeing a laptop, one textbook, and the ghost face mask. You looked at Sunoo, “You’re the one who sent the texts to Jay and helped Heeseung track us at all times. You have your own mask too, don’t you? Hiding it in the investigation room?”

Sunoo kept his smile, “It was there,” he shot his eyes to Jake, “But I’m assuming it’s no longer there.”

Jake smirked, “You think I’d let some fucking copycats steal my thunder? Nah.” He removed the knife from Heeseung’s throat, and pushed him away, quickly grabbing you and pulling you to his side, “Besides,” Jake chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist and looking down at the knife, “All the evidence I have against you was already turned into the police. Sunoo’s gear too. And now that we have your gear,” Jake tossed the knife to the table, “The cops have everything they needed.”

The sounds of running filled the hallways, enough proof that the police had finally arrived. Heeseung and Sunoo didn’t loosen their glares off you and Jake even as their wrists got cuffed and they were dragged out of the office.

Jake pulled you into a hug, his breath hitching, “It’s over,” he whispered in your ear, “It’s finally over.”

You hugged your boyfriend tightly, “I’m proud of you for not killing him.”

Jake chuckled, “Trust me, honey, it took a lot to not.”

A few investigators questioned you and Jake, then sent you on your way. You and Jake were able to walk home freely with no worries.

Heeseung and Sunoo were on the news that night, video footage of them being pushed into the police cars and being hauled off, the newsman discussing each murder case, including the ones Jake committed. Each victim is named in tribute to the killer finally being caught.

You laid on top of Jake on your shared couch, the bandages from his stab wound Jay gave him peeked out of his hoodie. You traced your fingers over it, “Does it still hurt?”

Jake shifted his gaze from the TV to you, “Not as much as what it felt like when I thought you’d died.”

You traced your fingers over his face, stopping at his lips, him kissing the pads of your fingers.

“You won’t have to ever feel that feeling again,” you reassured him.

Jake nodded, wrapping his arms around you, “I know. I won’t let anyone harm you again,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and softly chuckled, “I am proud of you for how you lured him in, his shyness and awkwardness might have all been fake and an act, but the way you reeled in him and played with his feelings? Those were so true. You should be an actor, for real.”

You roll your eyes at him, “I want to be an investigative journalist, don’t have time for acting.”

Jake cupped your face and kissed you gently, “And you’ll make one hell of one too.”

The kiss went from passionate and soft, to deep and hard. Jake pulled your and his clothes off until you were both bare and you straddled his lap, riding his cock and pinning his hands above his head against the armrest. Jake was a moaning and gasping mess as you continued to ride, letting you have full control.

You smiled down at your serial killer, watching as his brows furrowed and eyes shut tightly when he came.

Everything was perfect and how it should be.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @zeeloveshee

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#jake bby #sim jake #jake sim #jaeyun sim #sim jake x reader #reader x sim jake #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #yeonzzzn writing #ghostface!jake #ghostface au

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punkshort · 6 months

Text

i know who you are | 4. the others

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Winter begins to wrap its arms around Jackson, filling the town with snow and a nasty flu. Joel takes you to meet Ben and Lisa, and you finally discover more about your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, amnesia, sad!joel, pining, sexual tension, slow burn, jealousy

WC: 9K

Series Masterlist

You looked happy.

Ever since you began working at the infirmary, you seemed happier. Like you were grateful to have a purpose. A way to contribute. To give back to the community that supported you.

You smiled more and you didn't shy away from him as much as you used to and it gave Joel hope. Every time you saw him and greeted him with a smile or said goodbye with a squeeze of his shoulder, it made his heart flutter. It's been weeks. Months, technically. But he was making some progress.

It was the first snowfall of the season and it put you in an even better mood than usual. Your face was pressed up against the window as he tended to the fire behind you, and you watched as the big, fluffy flakes of snow fell from the sky, coating Jackson in a perfect blanket of pure white.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from," you told him over your shoulder. He knew that already, but he humored you.

"That so?"

"Mhmm. When I was a kid, though, we got hit with this freak storm. No one knew what to do. No one owned shovels or snow blowers or any of that, so we were all stuck inside our houses until the storm ended and everything melted," you said, turning away from the window so you could curl up on the couch, then pausing for a moment before tilting your head to the side. "Did I tell you this already?"

Yes, he thought, but he shook his head, eager for you to continue. He just loved hearing you talk, no matter what you said. Besides, if you were expected to rebuild your relationship, sharing your past would naturally be part of that, so he encouraged you to tell stories, even if he's heard them before.

"So, what happened?" he asked, putting the poker back in the stand and getting up with a groan, his knees cracking a bit before he settled in on the other end of the couch.

"Well, the power went out," you said, and he could hear the excitement in your voice, delighted to be telling him something you thought he didn't already know, and it made his heart swell. "So we didn't have any heat or any way to cook our food. We set up camping tents in the middle of our living room and slept in there with, like, five blankets each. And we lived off pop-tarts and granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches for two days til the power came back on."

"Two days?" Joel repeated, and you nodded.

"Yeah, but it was fun. As a kid, you know? I'm sure my parents were freaking out but me and Matty were excited. We played board games and ate by candlelight and told ghost stories," you said wistfully, your eyes looking miles away. "We talked about that for years," you finished softly, and Joel smiled.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from, either," he told you, and your eyes met his again.

"Texas, right?" and he nodded. "Did you live there your whole life?"

Something deep inside him sparked with a mix of nerves and excitement. It felt like you were meeting all over again, and while it was under less than ideal circumstances, he couldn't help but feel those butterflies you feel when you first meet someone new.

"Yep, my whole life. Tommy, too, except for when he was in the army."

"Were you in the army?" you asked, but he quickly shook his head.

"Nah. Wasn't my scene. Besides, I had Sarah."

"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for asking. You dropped your attention to your hands, which were twisted in your lap, as you thought about your next question.

"How old was she?" you asked quietly, still looking down and avoiding his gaze, but you heard him take a deep breath.

"She was twelve when she died," he told you, his words hanging heavy in the air and he could see the conflict in your face as you tried to figure out a way to learn more about him without reopening old wounds. "It's okay, I don't mind talkin' 'bout her."

"Did we used to talk about her?" you asked him curiously, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But not at first. Still hurt too much back then, y'know?"

"Yeah," you breathed, your mind now drifting to thoughts of your own family. Were you together when they died? Did you see it? If so, was it some sort of sick twist of luck that you now couldn't remember?

"What was your favorite thing to do together?" you asked, watching as his eyes found a fixed point on the wall while he considered your question.

"My favorite thing was hiking. Hers was goin' to the movies or the mall, most likely," he said with a soft chuckle. "I didn't mind, though. I was just happy she still wanted to be seen with her old man at that age. Makes me wonder if she felt bad for me or somethin'."

You furrowed your brow, confused. "Why would she feel bad for you?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't date much. Had a few poker buddies but I mostly spent my time with Tommy. Just worked so hard back then that I was too tired to do much else."

"And you were a contractor?" you asked, trying to remember the small pieces of information you picked up over the last two months. He nodded.

"Yeah, me and Tommy had our own business. That was a lifetime ago. Can't imagine doin' that kind of work now, not with my back," he said with a smile.

Joel's eyes flicked to the window over your shoulder, watching as the snow continued to come down, the window panes growing foggy in the corners. "Looks like we ain't goin' anywhere for a while," he said, changing the subject. You followed his gaze and nodded.

"What about Ellie? Is she okay back there?"

"Yeah, she'll be alright. She could make it up to the house if she got too cold," he assured you.

So, you were essentially snowed in. All alone.

You could feel his eyes on you as you watched the fire and you wondered if he was thinking about an alternate reality. One where you didn't have an accident. Where you remembered everything. One where you loved him the way he so obviously loved you, and what you might be doing differently in that very moment. You had a feeling your hunch was correct because he stretched his arm across the back of the couch and subtly inched a little closer towards you, the worn cushions dipping from his weight and causing your leg to bob.

Your body stiffened and your heart suddenly felt like it was being crushed in your throat. He was so patient, you had to give him credit. It couldn't be easy for him, and although you could finally admit to yourself that you found him attractive, you still didn't think you trusted him enough to take things any further. Not yet. Not when you still had so many questions. Your eyes drifted up to meet his and as you expected, he was watching you closely. Carefully. Trying to read you the same way you were trying to read him. The problem was, every time he looked at you that way, with his eyes all soft and filled with adoration, you could only think about what he was hiding. What did he lie about? And why was he so hesitant for you to meet Ben and Lisa?

Joel leaned in a fraction and his fingers tightened their hold on the back of the couch. He wanted to kiss you. He's wanted to kiss you ever since that day in the field right before that clicker ruined the moment. And with the soft glow from the fire and the snow falling silently outside, it felt like the perfect moment. He was terrified of making things worse after he finally felt like he made some progress, but it was killing him. He missed having you so fucking much, sometimes it felt like it actually caused him physical pain. Like his chest would explode one day.

He swallowed nervously and inched a little closer and you panicked. Just as he was about to say something, you cut him off.

"Do you wanna play a board game?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you gave him a nervous smile.

"Sure," he replied, watching as you jumped off the couch to look through the games stacked on the bookcase. He groaned inwardly and rubbed his chin when you bent over and he had to force himself to look away before his body reacted, praying you didn't pick Twister.

It took two days but the snow finally stopped. Ellie did eventually make her way to the house by the second day, simply because she was bored, so you helped Joel make a vegetable soup while Ellie set up the Monopoly board in the living room. You didn't have all the pieces, but you had enough, and what you didn't have you supplemented with buttons.

You didn't realize it; too caught up in cooking and the joy it used to bring you, but you and Joel worked together seamlessly in the kitchen. He chopped up zucchini while you diced onion and watched the pot on the stove that was cooking up noodles, slipping past each other to get to the sink and the cupboards and it all just felt so fucking normal that it made his chest ache. He wanted to draw your attention to it. He wanted to take you by the shoulders and say See? See how good we are together? But he didn't. He bit his tongue and bided his time until you came to that conclusion on your own, just like the first time.

But the first time was different. At least back then, you showed him affection. You kissed him and held him and shared your body with him and although you didn't want much more, not at first, eventually you did. And those moments in his bed were enough to hold him over until you opened your eyes and saw what was right in front of you.

He was selfish. He knew it was wrong to want you like that right now, but he wanted all of you, not just physically. He yearned to know what was going on behind your eyes, what you were thinking and feeling. What you thought of him. But if you would maybe just let yourself fall asleep in his arms on the couch while you read in front of the fire, or let him kiss you, just once, then maybe you would see it again. Feel it again.

"What the hell does a purple button mean?" you asked with a giggle, holding up the smooth, round plastic between your fingers.

"It's a hotel, duh!" Ellie said, grinning and rolling her eyes.

"Wait, why am I goin' to jail?"

"You rolled doubles three times in a row!" you told him, and you and Ellie bent over laughing at the confused expression on his face.

He made a disgruntled noise and moved his token to the corner of the board as he watched you and Ellie giggling and wiping tears from your eyes and fuck, it was nice. In another world, he would have made some joke about you being the one in handcuffs and maybe later he would have followed through with it and tied your wrists to the headboard, burying his face between your thighs until you couldn't take it anymore.

But instead, he just watched two of the people he loved most in the world have fun, the orange glow from the fire flickering over your smiling faces while the snow finally came to a stop outside.

Ellie had trekked back to the garage once the game was over. It was late, you looked tired, but he still suggested putting a movie on. He wasn't ready to let you go. He hated going to bed all alone. You seemed to consider his offer for a moment before you shook your head and yawned, and although he knew that would likely be your answer, he still felt his heart sink.

He walked you to your bedroom and as he was about to say goodnight, hoping to minimize the hurt by making it quick, you did something that surprised him. You pulled him into a hug, standing on your tiptoes, your chin resting on his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck, body pressed firmly against his and just as quickly as it happened, you pulled away. Joel was so stunned he wasn't sure he hugged you back, even though he stood cemented to the floor well after you went to bed, replaying the hug over and over, all he could remember was how he felt. And he went to bed that night with renewed hope blooming in his chest. Maybe you were finally coming around.

So the next morning when you asked him out of the blue if you could visit Ben and Lisa once the streets cleared of snow, he had a hard time finding a reason to say no. He should have known you wouldn't let it go, but he did hold out hope that maybe you moved on from the idea since it had been a few weeks when you last mentioned them.

He agreed, of course, not wanting to ruin the delicate foundation of your relationship. Besides, he already decided he would go with you and make sure they didn't tell you anything you weren't ready to hear.

The snow had melted enough where the road was visible again, but the snowbanks still piled high around the buildings and houses and you felt strangely nervous as you followed Joel down the street. He had finally agreed to take you to meet Ben and Lisa, and while you were grateful he didn't have the reaction he had the first time you mentioned them, you still wondered what caused that outburst.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe he was just tired and cranky that day, having just gotten back from patrol for the fourth day in a row. But something still felt... off.

"Wow, when Ellie said they lived on the outskirts, she wasn't kidding," you said, realizing you were reaching an edge of Jackson you had yet to explore.

"Yeah, they tend to keep to themselves," he replied without further explanation. He didn't seem agitated, but he definitely wasn't happy about going to see them. He seemed more quiet and subdued than usual.

Finally, you arrived at a quaint looking cottage tucked back from the road a ways. Like Ellie had said, it was small, but it looked cozy. You could see the smoke pluming from the chimney and you couldn't wait to warm up again.

There was no porch. Just a small roof over the front door and a folding chair that looked like it had seen better days. He knocked firmly on the door and after a moment, you heard light shuffling on the other side.

The door cracked open and you were greeted by a short woman around your age with dull, brown hair and bright green eyes. She saw Joel first and, like most people in town, she hesitated. But then she noticed you next to him and her expression changed. A wide smile stretched across her face and she said your name softly, then held her arms out for a hug.

"It's so good to see you," she said in your ear, giving you a tight squeeze before turning around and ushering you both inside. "Come in, come in, it's freezing out there. Ben! You'll never guess who's here!"

You both stepped inside and as you were slipping off your outerwear, you glanced around the small space. It was tight, but it was filled with warmth. The living room had two small, mismatched loveseats on either side of the stone fireplace. Two large bookshelves that were filled with so many books that the shelves were sagging stood on either side of the fire, and curiously you didn't notice a television anywhere in the room.

You heard a man's deep voice behind you say your name and you jumped in surprise. Turning around, you were pulled into another hug by who you could only assume was Ben. He was tall - taller than Joel - and you wondered how on earth such a small house could fit such a large man. He stepped away, his dark eyes glittering with his hands still on your shoulders, taking in your appearance as if you haven't seen them in years.

Maybe you haven't.

You were so focused on absorbing every little detail about the house and its residents that you didn't notice Joel's body stiffen next to you, his eyes glued to Ben's hands. And while Lisa seemed to have the same reaction to Joel that everyone else in town did, Ben, on the other hand, did not seem phased by his presence. In fact, he appeared pleased to see him. Once he dropped his hands from your shoulders, he stretched out a lanky arm and shook Joel's hand, giving him a kind smile which Joel had a hard time returning.

"What a wonderful surprise. Come, let's sit. Do you want coffee or tea?" Ben asked, his eyes drifting between you and Joel. You both shook your heads and Ben smiled warmly at you once again. Even though the living room was just a few feet away from the front door, Ben still rested his hand on your shoulder and guided you to one of the loveseats as if you might lose your way, only dropping his hold on you when he sat down across from you on the other one.

Joel eased himself down on the couch beside you, the space so small that he had no choice but to rest his leg against yours, and Lisa went to join Ben, the crackling fire between both loveseats warming you up right away.

"We heard you had an accident. How are you feeling?" Lisa asked, her voice so small and gentle compared to Ben's booming baritone.

"Better, thanks. But it's kind of why I'm here," you said, glancing over at Joel nervously, but he was staring silently at Ben, who still seemed unaffected.

Lisa tilted her head to the side and wrapped a hand around Ben's forearm, leaning into him a bit as she got more comfortable on the couch. You noticed for the first time a basket on the floor next to her feet filled with different colored yarn and half knitted projects tucked inside. "Oh?" she asked, then it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh! Is it... is it true? Do you really have memory loss?"

When you nodded, you noticed the flicker of pity across both their faces as they exchanged a somber look.

"I can only remember my life before the outbreak. My mom, dad and brother. I don't even remember what happened or how they died or how I managed to survive," you began, feeling yourself growing a little emotional. Joel must have sensed it in your tone because he squeezed your knee reassuringly, and when you glanced over at him, he had finally torn his eyes away from Ben to look at you with concern.

"It's been hard," Joel said, finally speaking up, addressing Ben and Lisa. "Lots of confusion, lots of missin' pieces. But she kept a journal. Turns out, she wrote 'bout you two, so that's why we're here," he finished, narrowing his eyes a bit at them.

"You wrote about us? How sweet," Ben said cheerily, running a hand through his dark blonde curls.

"Yes, but-"

"It wasn't anythin' that detailed," Joel said quickly, and you frowned at him. He sat back into the sofa and glanced over at you. "Right?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, dragging your eyes away from Joel and back to your hosts. "Just that we went fishing and it felt like old times," you continued, and they both smiled at the memory. The only sound in the room was the fire next to you, the wood popping loudly under the flames as you weighed your next question. "So I was hoping you might help tell me about myself before we arrived in Jackson. Is that... okay?"

Lisa shifted in her seat, a small smile still twitching at her lips as she gazed up at Ben, waiting for him to reply. He hesitated a moment and you thought you saw his eyes flicker to Joel before responding.

"Of course," Ben said, slapping the tops of his thighs, jostling loose Lisa's grip on his arm. He quickly picked her hand back up and brought her knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss, but your eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar symbol tattooed on the inside of her wrist, only made visible when Ben picked up her arm and her sleeve hung down.

"Can you tell me about when we first met?" you asked, figuring you should start at the beginning.

"Oh, what was it? Six or eight months after the outbreak, yeah?" Ben wondered aloud, looking to Lisa to confirm. She nodded and scratched her neck.

"Sounds about right."

You allowed yourself to feel a glimmer of excitement. There were two people right in front of you that could help fill in the blanks for the first five years after the outbreak, and you couldn't wait to hear more.

"We met in the Atlanta QZ," he began, but you quickly stopped him.

"QZ?"

"Quarantine Zone. All the major cities had 'em. Was meant to keep people safe from infected but the military ran most of 'em into the ground," Joel explained. "Treated people like cattle. Strict curfews. Barely enough rations to survive."

"It was awful," Lisa added solemnly.

"Was I alone?" you asked them, and Ben nodded. "Did I tell you anything about my family? How they died?"

Their eyes shifted to Joel for a moment before looking at one another.

"I thought you had said the infected got your mom on the first day. But your dad and brother..." Ben trailed off, looking down at his hands sadly. "They got caught out after curfew. It happened before we got there. They... were punished."

You frowned a little, looking to Joel to help shed some light on what Ben meant, but he was staring down at his feet.

"Punished?" you squeaked as your heart began to pound faster in your chest.

"Punishment for bein' out after curfew was death," Joel spoke up softly next to you.

You looked at all three of them, your eyes wide in disbelief. "Death? The military were killing people?"

"It was horrible. It's why we escaped," Lisa replied with tears in her eyes.

"Okay, then what?" you pressed, trying not to dwell too long on the thought of your father and brother being murdered by the very people who were supposed to protect them.

"After we escaped?" Ben clarified, and you nodded. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "We survived. Did what we had to do."

There it was again. Did what we had to do. The same thing Joel said when you brought up Lisa and Ben the first time.

You waited for him to elaborate but when it became apparent Ben had finished talking, you pushed him further. "Like what? What does that mean?"

"We laid low. Found some secluded spots in the wilderness and stuck it out for as long as we could," Lisa said, her eyes casually drifting between the two men. You looked at Joel, who was holding a steady glare at Ben and Lisa, but otherwise he was perfectly silent.

"For five years we just laid low? In the woods? The three of us?" you asked, and they could tell you knew they weren't telling you the whole truth. "What aren't you telling me? Did we do something bad? Did something happen?"

Joel shifted in his seat next to you but you kept your eyes pinned on Lisa and Ben, trying to read the expressions on their faces.

Ben was the first to fold. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours and gave you a half smile and shrug. "Yeah. I mean, everyone did bad things one time or another. It's impossible not to-"

"Like what?" you demanded. You could feel your anger building up now. "I'm not a child. Just tell me."

Ben sighed and looked at Joel once again, and this time you had enough.

"Why do you keep looking at him?"

Ben's eyes snapped back to you and he forced out a small chuckle, trying in vain to diffuse the tension in the room.

"You're our guests, so I'm looking at you both."

You weren't going to argue with him when it was clear he was looking at Joel for direction on what to say. It all made sense now. No wonder Joel didn't fight you on coming to visit them. He had planned all along to control the conversation and keep you in the dark and something inside you snapped.

Standing up from the couch suddenly, you looked down at Ben and Lisa, anger brimming in your eyes.

"Thanks," you spat, heading towards the front door. "Sorry to bother you both."

"It's no bother," Lisa said, her voice wavering as she followed you to the door. "Really. Stop by any time, it was nice to see you."

You scoffed and resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you shoved your boots and coat back on, doing your best to finish before Joel so you could get a head start back home.

Flinging open the door without another word, you took a deep breath and stormed down the street, the chilly winter air filling your lungs, trying to cool your anger from the inside out. But then you heard Joel's heavy footsteps crunching in the snow, hurrying to catch up to you, and your rage peaked again.

"You alright?" he asked when he found his place back by your side.

"No, I'm not alright," you seethed, staring straight ahead with your arms wrapped around your middle. "What was that back there?"

"What'dya mean?"

You skidded to a stop and glared at him, his cheeks pink from the cold and his chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual.

"You know what I mean. I'm not stupid, Joel. What don't you want me to know?"

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out how to respond.

"I'm not-"

"Don't bullshit me!" you yelled, and when you remembered you were in the middle of the street, you lowered your voice. "They were clearly scared of you. You didn't want them to tell me something. It was so obvious, Joel! I hit my head but I'm not fucking blind."

"I didn't ask them to say or not say anythin'," he said truthfully.

You stared at one another, both watching as your exhale mixed together, little clouds swirling in between you before rising above your heads and disappearing, each waiting for the other to break first.

"Maybe I should move out," you finally said, voice filled with sadness. His face fell instantly.

"Why?"

"You know why. I don't think I can trust you. How can I, when I can't even get a simple answer out of you?" What did he lie about?

If you had stabbed him in the chest, it would have hurt less. His gaze fell to the ground and he felt his throat begin to constrict. He had to do something. He couldn't lose you. So he told you a half truth.

"You and Ben used to be a thing," he said, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"What?"

He clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. "Before you came to Jackson. You and him were a couple."

You looked away from him, taking a minute to wrap your mind around what he just told you. You supposed it would make sense. It would explain why Joel was so weird about bringing you to see them. Maybe you misread the tension in the room. Maybe the tension was about something else entirely.

"That's why you were acting so strange? That's why you were staring him down?" you asked. His answer was still difficult to believe. It explained Joel's behavior, but it didn't explain what bad things you had done and why nobody seemed willing to tell you what they were.

He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. "Can we talk about this at home? I'm freezin'," he said.

The walk afforded you more time to think now that you had this new piece of the puzzle. Ben did seem like your type: he was handsome and kind, but if you and Ben were together in the past, where did that leave Lisa? They were clearly an item now. Wouldn't that have made for a strange relationship between the three of you? Perhaps that's why you didn't see them often.

Joel let you stew in silence for the walk home, fucking praying what he told you would be enough to keep you from following through with your threat. Why did it feel like every time he made some progress with you, something happened that fucked everything up?

Maybe he should have just let them tell you the whole truth.

No, that would have been bad. You didn't trust him enough yet. You said it yourself. And if you were willing to move out over something like this, you certainly would never speak to him again if you knew the whole story.

He needed to earn your trust first but it was so fucking hard when you wouldn't let him in. When you found out the truth the first time, you were already months into a relationship with him. You were already sleeping together, and while it didn't evolve into anything more until later, it still helped build your trust in him when he finally told you the truth.

He didn't have that with you now, and for the first time he began to doubt his ability to make you fall in love with him again.

You huddled in front of the fire after the long walk home, the two of you remaining silent the entire way. Joel was in the kitchen, most likely avoiding you and your questions while you warmed up. You weren't even going to bother bringing up the topic again, but Joel surprised you by doing it himself.

"I'm sorry. 'Bout earlier," he said from the entryway. You turned from the fire to look at him. He looked worried. His eyes were wide and his brow was knit while his hands fidgeted at his sides.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you asked, and he sighed.

"Dunno. Guess I was hopin' you'd let it go or change your mind," he said, ticking his jaw to the side.

"What would it have even mattered? I don't remember him, I don't remember what we had together. I certainly don't have feelings for him," you told him, sitting down on the couch and tucking your legs underneath you.

He looked around the room nervously as you waited for an answer that wasn't coming.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "If this is going to work, you need to be honest with me-"

"I was scared, alright?" he said abruptly. You watched him hang his head between his shoulders and take a deep breath before collapsing into the arm chair next to the couch. "I was scared you'd maybe remember him or..." he trailed off, finding it difficult to put into words what he was thinking. And although it wasn't the whole truth, it still was the truth. He was afraid this version of you would want someone like Ben and not like him.

He was afraid of losing you.

You seemed to understand because you didn't ask him to finish his thought. Instead, since he was opening up, you asked him something else that was bothering you.

"What did I do?"

He looked at you curiously, not following at first until you continued.

"Ben said I did bad things. We all did bad things to survive. What did he mean?"

Joel swallowed and thought about his answer for a moment. You sighed, growing impatient.

"You can't keep the truth from me forever. I'll find out one day, just tell -"

"You killed people," he told you, and you completely lost your train of thought. You searched his face as all of the air rushed out of your lungs, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

"I killed people?" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, and he nodded slowly. You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes but you blinked them away. What kind of monster did you become?

"Innocent people?"

"Depends on who you ask," he said right away, almost as if he expected that question.

"What does that mean?"

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he stared into the fire. "I told you. Everyone did what they had to do in order to survive. I know it's hard for you to understand what it was like, but there were a lot of bad people out there. A lot of bad fuckin' people. The military was outta control. There were revolutions and raiders and slavers." He paused and sniffed a bit, continuing to stare into the flames while you hung on his every word. "When I say you killed people... it ain't black and white. I killed people, too. Alotta people. When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em. D'you understand?" he asked, finally dragging his eyes up to look at you.

You blinked, thinking about what he said, his words rolling around your head like pinballs.

"I think so," you said quietly.

He nodded, still pinning you with his stare. "We all made decisions. We made choices based on what we knew at the time and we did our best."

You nodded, your voice wavering a bit when you asked "Am I a bad person, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together and he leaned forward in his chair, wanting to reach out to you, comfort you and pull you into his arms, but he refrained. "No, baby. You ain't a bad person," he told you softly.

And you weren't sure why, but you believed him.

The streets were quiet as you slowly made your way to the infirmary. You didn't start your shift until late in the morning and you didn't feel like joining Ellie at the dining hall for breakfast, so you stayed home, only getting out of bed when you heard Joel leave for patrol. He had already warned you the night before that he would be back later than usual due to the storm. Trails would likely be difficult to pass and nobody could predict if there would be damage at any of the outposts, but it was highly likely.

You didn't move out like you had threatened to. You didn't even know what you were thinking when you said that. Where would you have gone? The garage with Ellie? You didn't know anybody else. Not really. But even if you had, you saw the look in Joel's face when you said those words and even though you were so fucking angry with him, you still felt terrible for causing him pain.

On one hand, it seemed like he was just looking out for you, but on the other, his actions often came off as selfish. You had every right to know your past and what you did, and you were growing sick of Joel treating you like a child. Like you were too fragile to understand.

But at least you got it out of him. Even though you had to take extreme measures, you finally got him to tell you something truthful, and that was a positive step forward.

Lost in your thoughts, you weren't even paying attention when a man's voice called your name from across the street. You looked up after the third try and were surprised to find Ben waving to you from the tailor. You raised your hand in greeting and made your way over to the building.

"Hey," you said a little sheepishly, "about the other day, I'm sorry for how I acted-"

He shook his head and gave you a reassuring smile. "No need to apologize. All of this has to be so confusing for you. We understand."

You dropped your gaze to the frozen ground and dug your boot into the snow. "Thank you, I appreciate that. It's very frustrating, actually. I'm just trying to learn about myself and what's happened in the past ten years and I guess I took out my anger on you guys."

He waved you off and leaned against the doorframe of the tailor. "Don't worry about it. We were just happy to see you again."

And even though Ben was absolving you of your guilt, you somehow felt even worse. He was being so nice and you hardly felt like you deserved it. "Joel explained it to me, by the way. After we left your house he told me about us," you said, waving your finger back and forth between you.

"Ah," Ben said with a knowing smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I wondered as much. It was a very long time ago but Joel can be..." Ben trailed off and scratched his chin, "he can be a little protective, I suppose. He never really understood the nature our relationship."

You tilted your head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It was just casual. He always thought there was something more," Ben said, meeting your eye. "But I promise you, there wasn't. At the time, we were just lonely and scared and looking for comfort. Neither of us was looking for anything more than that."

You nodded thoughtfully. "He did say we were a couple," you said, and Ben chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't even call it that. Truly. There were no hurt feelings. We just never had a connection past... y'know," he said with a shrug. You felt yourself flush a bit at the words he left unspoken and looked away. "But I'm glad he told you."

"Yeah, me too. I know his heart is in the right place, I just wish he would have told me about us and all the shit we did before I came to see you. Probably would have made the visit a little more pleasant," you said with a laugh, but Ben's face fell.

"He told you about what we did?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious. You sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he told me I've killed people. It's been really hard to wrap my head around, but I'm trying to come to terms with it. He explained the world we live in now is not like the one I remember."

Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise and unfolded his arms. "Wow. I'm kind of shocked he told you about us and the Fireflies. That must have been really hard for you both."

You frowned and searched his face. "Fireflies?"

His body stiffened and his face paled when he realized his mistake. "Yeah. He told you about the Fireflies, right?"

You shook your head. "What are the Fireflies?"

"Shit," he muttered, pushing himself off the wall abruptly and clearing his throat. "I should get back to work. Just please forget I said anything, okay?"

"Ben, wait," you tried, but he disappeared back inside the tailor, leaving you standing in front of the door while more questions piled up.

There seemed to be a bad flu being spread around town because the infirmary was busier than usual. You were grateful for the distraction, especially after your conversation with Ben. You had spent the better part of the afternoon rushing from exam room to exam room, cleaning up after each patient as quickly as you could so Nick could continue treating the revolving door of people coughing and sneezing in the waiting room. Nick had recommended you wear a bandana around your mouth and nose to hopefully keep you healthy, but you had a feeling it would just be a matter of time before you caught the same bug as everyone else. Still, you kept the bandana tied around your neck as you worked diligently. What you didn't expect, however, was the bit of anonymity the mask afforded you.

You were cleaning up exam room six when you heard a woman's familiar voice in the room across the hall. Nick had left the door cracked open after he ushered her inside, and she apparently had another woman in there waiting with her as you started to pick up on hushed pieces of their conversation.

You didn't intend to eavesdrop, but curiosity got the best of you when you tried to place her voice, and when you realized it was Angie, your hands froze and your body stilled, doing your best to not make any noise so you could listen.

"... going down there almost every night... matter of time... him."

"But what about... freak out."

You frowned, inching closer to the door as you tried to fill in the gaps in their conversation.

Then you heard Angie say your name clear as day and your eyebrows shot up. You pressed your back against the wall and held your breath.

"She doesn't even like him. That relationship is a ticking time bomb."

You silently gasped when you realized they were most certainly talking about you and Joel.

It wasn't even true. You liked Joel. You were attracted to Joel. You were even starting to trust Joel a little more, although you definitely had plans to ask him about the Fireflies. But you were still getting to know him and it was taking time. Was this girl talking about trying to steal Joel away from you? The idea made your stomach turn and anger flare deep in your chest.

You shocked yourself with your reaction. Steal Joel away? Since when did you begin to feel some sense of ownership over him? Were you jealous?

You heard Nick's voice leaving an exam room a few doors down and you quickly made yourself look busy. He sighed tiredly in the hallway as he flipped through some papers before pushing open the door to Angie's room. You were changing the bedding on the mattress when you heard Nick call your name and you quickly dropped the sheets to cross the hall.

When your eyes locked with Angie's, giving her a hardened stare, you swore you saw a flicker of fear before she forced a fake smile and coughed into her fist while her friend, one you recognized from the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison, nervously shifted her weight and looked away. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction when it became clear to the two girls that you had heard everything they said, and you were grateful you had your mask on so they couldn't see the corners of your mouth twitch.

"Would you mind grabbing a bag of cough drops and a jar of menthol from the supply cabinet?" Nick asked, completely oblivious to the shift in the air.

"Sure thing," you told him, turning on your heel to leave and allowing yourself to finally smile.

Joel might scare the rest of the town, but you sure as hell scared the shit out of Angie.

Your shift at the infirmary went longer than expected. By the time you arrived home, you were exhausted and the sun was almost setting. So far you weren't feeling sick, but from what you had overheard all day, the symptoms came on quick, so you had already decided to call it an early night and get some rest. When you swung open the front door and found Joel hunched over the kitchen table, your plans went flying out the window.

He looked like he was on death's door. You had never seen him look so run down and pale. He didn't even open his eyes to look at you, he just kept them shut while he rubbed his temples and tried to stifle a cough, his backpack abandoned at his feet.

"Joel?" you called, toeing off your boots and hurrying over to him. You crouched down on the floor and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning up."

He groaned and cracked open one eye. "Feel like shit. Dunno what happened."

"There's a bad virus spreading around, the infirmary was slammed today," you said, pushing yourself up onto your aching feet to get him a glass of water. "Drink this and I'll heat you up some soup," you told him before heading towards the stove.

"You don't gotta-"

"Drink," you said firmly, cutting him off. He winced before picking up the glass and forcing down the cool liquid. Once you got the gas going on the stove, you grabbed an empty bowl and shoved your boots back on. "I'll be right back," you told him. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, about to ask where you were going but you already disappeared through the front door, returning seconds later with the bowl filled with snow.

"Lean back," you instructed, placing the bowl on the table. He did as he was told and closed his eyes, the lights from the kitchen ceiling making his head ache but when you pressed a handful of packed snow against his forehead, he groaned with relief.

"Oh shit, that feels good," he whispered as you tried to ignore the twinge between your legs at his low tone. He released a shaky breath and you watched as the snow began to melt, little trails of water dripping from his hair and down his scruffy cheeks. When it was nearly melted, you took your hand away and dumped the remnants in the sink, grabbing a towel and drying your hands on the way back. You pinched his stubbly chin delicately in your fingers and tipped his head towards you while slowly and gently wiping away the water from his face. When you finished, your eyes found his already boring into you and you felt a tingle shoot down your spine.

"Better?"

His gaze softened as he continued to stare up at you, searching your face quietly, making your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. You swallowed nervously and forced yourself to look away, and it was then he finally realized you had asked him a question.

"Yes," he murmured, "thank you."

You dragged your eyes back to his and gave him a small smile. "More?"

He didn't trust himself to speak. He just slowly nodded and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you scooped up another handful of snow. With your free hand, you slid your fingers behind his neck and through his hair, cupping the back of his head in your small hand before pressing the snow gently against his forehead once again. And even though he wanted to keep looking at you, he couldn't stop his eyes from fluttering shut at the cooling sensation, earning you another deep groan from his throat and causing your breath to stutter.

He heard it and opened his eyes.

You stared at each other, lips parted as the air began to thicken with tension. His eyes flickered over your face, noticing the way your pupils appeared bigger as you gazed down at him. He took a risk and slowly brought his hand up to rest on your side, watching you carefully for any sign that he should stop. He pressed his fingertips lightly into your hip, the fabric of your shirt bunching up slightly from the pressure.

You dropped your eyes to his hand and blinked rapidly, then opened your mouth to speak when you heard sizzling at the stove. You whipped your head around just as his soup began to boil over the pot.

"Shit!" you yelped, dropping the half melted snow onto the towel and racing over to the range. You twisted the knob off and put the pot on one of the unused burners and the liquid immediately simmered back down. "Sorry," you said, refusing to look at him as you started to gather a bowl and spoon, embarrassment burning your cheeks.

"Don't be," he replied, still leaning back in his chair in the same position you left him. He watched you fumble nervously in the kitchen and he had to suppress a smile.

Maybe he still had a chance, after all.

Joel's temperature was a little high but nothing too concerning, so you pushed the fluids and he ate all of his soup and it helped put your mind at ease. You really didn't want to have to ask for ibuprofen unless it was absolutely necessary, especially considering how the same virus was hitting almost every house at the same time. You made sure to check on Ellie from her doorway, not wanting to risk her catching anything since she appeared to be fine, before helping Joel up to bed.

Once you followed him into the room and he turned on the light next to his bed, you realized you hadn't actually ever entered his bedroom before. Sure, you've walked past it when the door was open and glanced inside, but you never really looked. As he gathered some fresh pajamas and began to unbutton his flannel, you turned your back to him to give him some privacy and examined his bookshelf. Your eyes drifted over the titles on the spines of a handful of books, most of which you hadn't heard of before noticing a framed photograph sharing a shelf with his books. It was faded and a little torn, but you could still make out their faces. It was Joel - a far younger version of Joel - with his arm around a beautiful little girl with dark hair and eyes and a stunning smile. You felt your throat tighten when you realized who it was, and if you had any doubt, Joel's voice piped up behind you.

"That's Sarah."

You heard him shuffling his bedding around so you figured he was dressed.

"She's beautiful, Joel," you said, walking over to his side of the bed and popping the thermometer under his tongue one more time. "It's wonderful that you were able to find a picture of her. I wish I had some pictures of my family," you said sadly, watching the hands of the clock on top of his bookshelf tick, counting down the seconds until you could check the thermometer. "I would have loved for you to at least see them. I think you would have gotten along with my brother really well. Maybe too well," you added with a soft laugh, not realizing he was silently hanging on your every word as you continued to stare at the clock. "He was always looking out for me. Always protecting me, trying to shield me and it drove me nuts when I was younger, but as time went on, I understood it a bit more."

You pulled the thermometer out and checked the number. "Still the same," you told him, resting it on his nightstand.

"How much time?" he asked, and you gave him a confused look. "How much time did it take 'til you started to understand?" he clarified, and you realized what he was really asking.

"I don't know," you replied honestly, sitting on the edge of his bed with a sigh. "But I'm starting to... understand," you said, giving him a sideways glance. You really wanted to ask him about the Fireflies but seeing how sick he was, you decided to bring it up another time. His hand slipped out from underneath the covers and gently squeezed your knee.

"That's good," he said softly before furrowing his brow and turning his head to cough loudly into his pillow. You winced at how bad it sounded and rubbed his upper back. When the coughing fit passed, you handed him his water and he took a grateful sip.

"Do you need anything else before I go to bed?"

"Could you stay here?" he found himself asking before he could even think. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you struggled to answer. "Just 'til I fall asleep?"

"Oh," you replied, looking awkwardly around his rather sparse room. "Sure, let me just go wash up," you said, standing up from his bed. You were dead on your feet from your shift at work and you knew the next day wouldn't be any better, but you felt bad saying no, so you changed your clothes and grabbed one of the books Joel had found for you before dragging the chair from the corner of his room to the side of his bed.

"You can stretch out over there," he told you, pointing weakly to the other side of the bed before coughing into his closed fist. "I won't bite."

You smiled as you settled into the chair. "I'm alright, thanks," you said, opening your book and leaning back, trying to get comfortable. After a few minutes of reading, you looked up just to find him still watching you. You laughed and said "you need to get some rest if you want to kick this thing," then he grinned and finally closed his eyes.

You may not have been in bed with him, but you were close enough to help him relax and for the first time in months, he fell fast asleep within minutes.

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