Lovely - Jeff the Killer x Reader (🚧)

5 Years Of Chasing (2024)

(A/N: THIS FIC IS CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN❗️please forgive if you stumble across a chapter that is utterly cringe and different.)

I was casually scrolling through Instagram while riding the bus home. Since I got off work so late, there wasn't really anyone else on the bus, my legs and arms exhausted as I leaned back into the seat. I sighed and randomly liked another picture, finding all the posts boring.

I need to spice up my life, it's getting too repetitive.

I shut off my phone and pulled out my note pad, reading over the notes written in it. I work as a homicide detective for the local police department, and I'd been chasing the same criminal since I started.

An infamous one, that pretty much everyone knows.

Jeff the Killer.

He's 25, a year older than myself. Black hair, blue eyes, stands at 6'0, and has his famous smile carved into his face.

Hard to miss, right?

So you'd expect me to have noticed that he was 3 seats behind me on the bus.

Well, I didn't. Exhaustion had completely consumed my brain from staying up so many nights in a row, desperate to get some kind of lead on him.

See, while I was trying to tracking him down, he'd been watching my every move for the past 7 months. And no, I hadn't noticed, at all. I'd been too busy completely obsessing over the changes in his patterns. His kill count had slowly depleted, his method becoming even messier than before.

In fact, I hadn't even glanced at anyone else on the bus, still wracking my brain for answers about his newest stunt. So, when he moved to the seat right behind me, and put a knife to my neck, I was pretty startled, halfway assuming a homeless person had decided I looked like I carried cash.

"When the bus stops, you're gonna stand up, and walk out of the doors, then, you're gonna keep walking until I say so, got it? Make one wrong move and I'll slice your fucking neck open." I felt cold metal touch my neck, pressing against it harder as he spoke. His voice was gravelly, entirely harsh and grating against my ears.

I tried not to gulp, and nodded lightly, fear gripping me harsher than his rough hand on my shoulder ever could.

"Good little detective." He said, his tone sending a cold shot of fear down my spine.

The bus came to a stop, and I slowly stood up, he came up right behind me and held the knife against my back. I walked slowly, my eyes pleading for help as we walked past the bus driver.

He didn't even glance at me. Bastard.

The bus doors closed as soon as we got off, the bus beginning to drive again. As my shoes hit the concrete of the sidewalk, I was tempted to fight back, knowing exactly where my gun was and how quick I could be to shoot this psycho.

"I've been chasing you for 5 fucking years, and NOW you decide to show up?!" I muttered to myself, genuinely feeling kind of pissed off that all my horrifyingly detailed and hard work wouldn't pay off. The irony of him being the one to end my life didn't escape me.

"What was that? You've been looking for little ol' me?" He asked sarcastically, the knife returning to its place against my jugular. His teasing did nothing but fuel the anger more.

"You know I have you sick fuck." I snapped, not able to keep the bite from my voice. It wasn't the smartest thing, showing anger or fear, but when faced with someone so excruciatingly dangerous, it was hard not to.

"Don't get snippy with me. Keep walking, back to your house. Home intrusion is my staple." He said, tapping the back of my knee with his foot. He was entirely too upbeat and happy for my liking, it was unsettling. Seeing the difference in his violent behavior vs his almost playful tone, it was stark.