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jimlingss · 4 years ago

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The Weekend Massacre

➜ Words: 19.7k

➜ Genres: 90% Angst, 10% Action?, Serial Killer!AU

➜ Summary: Receiving an invitation to a party, Jimin finds himself in a room of serial killers and a game to see who can gain the most notoriety.

➜ Warning: vomiting, toxic relationship, murder, gore, homeless abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, cults, mutilation etc. I don’t condone the actions of my characters.

cr.

[Friday, 10:00pm] Jimin grips the envelope. It’s a dark blue, glittering when he holds it up to the light and silk-like to the touch. A complete blank front, it’s without a return or delivery address. He had tossed the first envelope out, supposing it was a mistake. But then another one was sent. And another. And another. Another. Until he broke the floral red seal that was seemingly dripping off the page. It didn’t make sense to him — it was an invitation to a party on the far outskirts of the city with his name on it. He’s not sure how anyone found him. Who it was that sent this. Or what this was. Then, as if to add to his confusion, he received several phone calls. Whispers. Incoherent. In the middle of the night. Between hours of the day. Startling as it was jarring. It was as if to show these people were watching constantly, as if to tell that he shouldn’t ignore this any longer. So here Jimin was. Standing in front of a ragged wooden door with the envelope in hand, shrouded in the middle of pitch black without the moon’s luminescence. He knocks twice. The door slot slides open. Beady eyes look through. “Password?” Jimin recalls the instructions laid out for him. “Never look in the eye of the beast.” The slot slides shut and the noise of lock gears unwinding soon becomes replaced with the hinges creaking as the door widens. The hall is narrow with a set of descending stairs, a tiny bulb swinging from the moldy ceiling. The man is burly, over six feet with bulging biceps and tattoos wrapped around them. Jimin swallows hard, burdened with the stranger’s intimidating air and averts his eyes. But the man isn’t dissuaded and reaches into his pocket to hand Jimin a rectangular business card. It’s black, but golden looped letters etched into the smooth card reads welcome. Jimin isn’t sure what to do with the card and receives no explanation. The man simply moves ahead. “Follow me.” Jimin complies wordlessly, stuffing the card into his pocket, suffocating the many questions he has in his throat. The man leads him down the rickety stairs, knocks on a steel door that opens with another stranger behind it and then past yet another door. It opens to a room of thumping music and neon strobe lights that Jimin’s eyes have yet to adjust to. But the man doesn’t walk into the room, merely stepping aside. He stares at Jimin. And Jimin enters on his own. The bass is boosted, trembling the walls of the underground room in a beat he doesn’t recognize. The scent of alcohol is thick and people are dressed in lavish outfits and laughing. Jimin self-consciously grips the hem of his hoodie, feeling out of place with his jeans he threw on haphazardly. He awkwardly shuffles amongst the crowd, looking around, squinting when the pink flashing lights cast into his eyes. He’s unable to recognize the people around. There’s fifteen or twenty so, a mix of women and men— Jimin’s shoulder collides with another. “S-Sorry.” He locks eyes with the older man, thick framed glasses around kind eyes and wrinkles, a dimpled smile and blonde locks. “Don’t worry about it.” The man brushes past him. Jimin doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t know where he is, for what purpose he’s come here for, why the invitation was sent to his name. He feels disoriented. Lost amongst the crowd, dizzy from the strobe lights and the high-pitched laughter closing in on him. Suffocated. He gasps for air, swinging his head around to look for a wall to lean on, a corner to seek refuge in, where he won’t be swept away by strangers. But no matter where he turns to, it seems like the darkness is encompassing him— Or at least until he catches another’s eyes. Across the room. Jimin meets your curious pupils, your quirked head, the edge of your mouth slightly pulled. You’ve been staring at him and that alone captures his attention, roots him back to the ground. You’re in a black dress with white frills that makes it look like it’s a child’s attire. And as he muses this, you’re approaching faster than he can panic. Cutting through the horde. Beelining straight to him. “You’re cute. What’s your name?” “Jimin,” he stutters out and finally blinks. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Your smile expands and before he can utter your name to memory, you lean in close. “I know what you did.” Immediately, Jimin frowns. “What do you mean?” You don’t answer or at least not in the straightforward way he wishes. Instead, you chuckle and Jimin discerns a moment too late that your gaze has always been predatory. “The both of us are quite alike, you know. But haven’t you noticed? Everyone in this room is a serial killer.” “W-What?” Jimin stutters, his head whipping from side to side, from person to person as he pales. You watch him carefully with an amused expression, how his eyes are widened like a puppy’s, how his mouth has downturned. It’s funny — how he acts when he’s not any different. But the chance to ask, interrogate or escape is stolen when the music lowers and the lights dim. “Oh.” You tug on Jimin’s sleeve. “It’s starting.” He follows your line of sight to the stage at the back, a shimmering spotlight shining down and showing him where the end of the room exactly is. Yet the figure that stands there is obscure. Hidden by their black clothing, their hood, a mask on their face. The voice booms when it speaks. “Welcome all to the first Weekend Massacre!” Jimin’s reeling and his eyes travel across the room. Amidst the crowd, he finds the blonde man from earlier, another shorter man with darker hair and a taller brunette. It’s then that the realization strikes him across the face. He’s seen some of these people before. On the news. In the newspaper. “Each of you who have received an invitation have been specifically chosen to be a participant in our games.” Games? Jimin’s attention is taken back to the stage. “Forty eight hours to commit as many crimes as you can with the promise of endless notoriety and being the first victor.” He’s nauseous, afraid, petrified of what these people around him have done, what he’s gotten himself into. And he barely has half a mind when you peek at him with another smile. “Each crime will be weighed differently on a point basis. You will be able to call in at any time to know your rank and the rank of one above and below you. There are two rules. Do not kill another participant and if you are caught by the authorities, then you are suspended from participating any further. The games will officially start in an hour and end on Sunday at this same time.” “I wish you all luck. The victor is somewhere standing in this room tonight and I look forward to meeting them.” It’s a game of killing people. A competition to see who can cause the most harm. A crowd of serial killers who have committed the most heinous crimes against women and children. Jimin feels bile reaching up his throat. He’s dizzy. He can’t hear anything until there’s a crisp call of his name and curious eyes peering into his. “Jimin? Are you alright?” No. He isn’t. Not in the least bit. He wants to run, tell someone this is happening, but he wonders if anyone would even believe him and telling anyone would mean giving himself in. It would mean being tracked down by those who organized this event and the police. It’s the last thing he would want. And he has a feeling that choosing not to participate isn’t an option either. Not with what happened when he threw out all those invitations, when he tried to ignore those phone calls. They’ll find him, whoever they are, and make him play. Jimin doesn’t get a chance to make a peep. You grab both of his hands into yours, smiling sweetly and tenderly. “Don’t be scared, Jimin! How about this? I’ll take you under my wing!” He stares at you. And an answer comes to him. It might be the perfect escape, a medium between participating and not — watching from the sidelines. Would that be enough to consider that he’s taking part but without having to do such a heinous thing? Would he truly be resolved from needing to act? More importantly, Jimin doesn’t understand. All he knows is your name. There’s no reason for you to offer your protection, to let him come along. He’s just met you. “W-Why?” “Because people like me and you need to stick together, silly! You don’t look like you can survive a second! So how about it, pet? You can join me. I don’t make this offer just to anybody!” Jimin gazes at the way you hold your hand out to him.

[Friday, 11:34pm] He fiddles with his fingers in his lap. Jimin swallows hard and steals a glance at you. You’re humming some light tune and tapping your hands against the steering wheel — the fluorescent street lights illuminating your face as you drive by before you’re brought into darkness again a second later. He’s not sure who’s the crazy one. The one who doesn’t even bat a lash after suddenly being thrusted into a murder game. Or the one who’s cognizant enough to be aware of how insane this is but is still following along anyhow. “So!” Your loud voice startles him. “We should get playing, shouldn’t we, pet?” Jimin’s tone stays timid. “What if we don’t?” The game is obscure and the realm of possibilities seems endless. Maybe the repercussions won’t be that bad if he chooses not to play. Yet at the same time, Jimin feels like he’s back at the party, placed in the crowd, shrouded in the darkness, being swept along by the tide without escape. A helpless follower. You scoff, looking at him. “And what would we do instead? Sit around and wait for someone else to be crowned the winner? How boring would that be?! I don’t think so. This is a once in a lifetime chance to compete with other killers. Why should we give it up when it’s so much fun?!” You command, “Pick someone.” “What?” Jimin’s eyes widen. He grasps his hands, feeling them shake even more. “I’ll help you kill someone, Jimin.” You smile at him. “I’ll give you the first pick.” “I...don’t know.” “It can be anyone you want! Anyone you’re upset with or you don’t like or you think makes your eyes sore!” You have a Chester's grin, eyes that twinkle in the night skyline’s lights. “Pick!” Jimin can feel the car accelerate dangerously down the empty street. And he sweats, placed under the pressure. He’s frightened of you, of your presence, how it seems like you know a million things about him, but he doesn’t know a single thing about you other than your name. It feels like you can see right through him. He wonders what crime you’ve committed. What you’ve done to be considered a serial killer. “Ji-min~,” you sing-song and he meets your eyes. “Pick already!” He glances out the window, head swirling, legs quivering. He has to choose the victim. But there’s no one he hates, no one he has malice towards, no one he wants to see dead. Out of sheer fear and compulsion, feeling the seconds ticking down and your impatience growing, Jimin bites the bullet and impulsively points straight out the windshield. “H-Him.” It was the first person he saw. A person merely at the wrong place at the wrong time. A homeless man with a parked shopping cart, digging through a garbage can. Oblivious. The car slows down at once and Jimin hears your hum. “Good choice. No one will miss someone like him!” Jimin feels nauseous. He feels queasy when the car is parked across the street, when you get out and dig into the trunk, telling him not to worry about it and how it’s actually a stolen vehicle you got your hands onto. He feels queasy when you cross the road while hugging his arm, how you approach the disheveled man casually and how the stranger looks up with a tired, worn expression yet retains a compassionate smile— “Is there somethin’ I can help you with?” “Yes. My boyfriend and I were actually wondering if we could get directions to—” And most of all, Jimin feels absolutely sick to his stomach when the homeless man innocently turns away to point to the roads, explaining the directions, and you bear a hammer from the sack you have dangling from your other arm. It’s mid-sentence. Mid blink when you reach over to smash the man’s head. Without warning, without reasoning, without hesitation. You’ve detached yourself from Jimin smoothly and slammed the head of the hammer onto the stranger’s skull. Allowing him to stumble back on the park bench, wheezing, eyes widened from shock. The sound of the cracking bones echoes. “P-Please!” The man is petrified, shaking with death setting in his eyes, gripping his head as blood pours down to his face and through his lashes. “I-I have k-kids! I have kids!” The pleading voice jarring to the ears. Jimin is horrified. You loom over the man with an impassive expression. And as the man begs with tears in his eyes, you slam the hammer on his head again, loud enough that Jimin, himself, cries out. “Stop!” You turn around, crimson splattered on your cheek. The homeless man’s no longer conscious, flopped over as his head continues to pour out blood. “What’s wrong, Jiminnie?” You loll your head to one side. But he ignores you. Jimin looks at the man. The victim he chose. Bile reaches up to his throat. Jimin collapses on his weak knees. And he throws up. Chunks of his partially digested microwavable dinner spew out as he wheezes. His stomach contracts as he coughs to the ground, face littered with loose teardrops and cold sweat. The pungent scent is sharp against the acid in his throat. Jimin wipes his mouth with the back of his quivering hand. “Oh my fucking god. W-we...we need to take him to the hospital!” “Now why would we do that, silly?” you giggle. “We need to finish him off!” You’re insane and he was insane to come along with you, for taking the invitation and going to the party, for thinking he could go along with this and be safe watching from the sidelines. “I-I’m not a killer!” Jimin sobs into his hands, unable to look at the man any longer. Jimin doesn’t know why he was picked, why he was given an invitation. They have the wrong person. And like he’s at a confession, he professes, “I’m not a serial killer!” But instead of a priest, it’s the devil itself. “And what would your family say about that, Jiminnie?” You lower yourself down to him, carding your bloodstained fingers through his soft brunette locks as he trembles. Your murmur is consoling as it is tantalizing. The silence isn’t as eerie as it should be. “I heard about it, you know. I saw it on the news. I know you did it. It takes one to know one.” “Stop.” Jimin hyperventilates between tears, shaking his head, but you don’t. “You mutilated them.” Beneath his eyelids, he sees it. The crimson coated floorboards, splattered on the yellow paisley wallpaper, on the popcorn ceiling of the living room. He covers his ears. “Stop it!” “You flushed your younger brother down the toilet.” The chaos of the entire scene projects before his eyes. The knocked over chairs, the picture frames thrown, the stench of iron in the two bedroom house heavy, the warmth of the blood. And Jimin feels the same warmth after you’ve pried his hands off of his ears and you hold his cheeks between your hands. You force him to look you in the eye. “It...it was an accident,” he sobs, the words barely stuttering out of him. “I b-blacked out. I was angry. I d-didn’t know what I was doing.” He had no control of himself. And worst of all, he never got to repent for his sins. He had an alibi — a timesheet at work that told them he was at another place at that time, yet in reality, he had forgotten to clock out. But by then, he was too much of a coward to fess up to his actions, to tell them that he was the perpetrator, to be looked at as the monster he knows he is. But somehow, even with all these facts, you don’t look at him like he is one. “Something like that is never an accident, Jiminnie,” you coo and with a sweet smile, you stand and finish the man off. The last pained grunt lingers. Jimin follows along on auto-pilot as you drag the body yourself with much effort. You bury him by the playground where the soil is softest, where in the morning, old couples and children will trample by the dirt without a single thought. It takes thirty minutes for you to get rid of it, for you to pour two bottles of water over the bench to wash the blood into the nearby gutter, to shove the shopping cart onto the road as a traffic hazard. Then, you’re grabbing Jimin’s palm, interlacing your fingers between his, staining his skin with the blood on your hands like it’s part of a ritual. You’ve imprinted the patterns of your palm on his. And then you’re pulling him along like a doll, laughing down the street in a high, in a drunken madness in spite of being sober. “You helped me kill someone, Jiminnie.” Your eyes seem to shine brighter, more excited than before. “You know what this means? It means we’re connected now! Forever and always.” It’s unsettling, but you’re right. He’s an accomplice. A bystander. A follower. No worse than you are. He let this happen. Chose the victim. Watched you do it. He allowed himself to become your pet. “I wonder how many points that gave me,” you hum with pouty lips before turning down the alley. Jimin’s not sure where you’re going but he doesn’t care to ask. As if he wasn’t susceptible to being pulled along by the crowd, he feels exceptionally inclined to follow your whims. He wonders who you are. How he feels somehow feels grounded when he looks at you, even after everything that you’ve done. “Hurry the fuck up!” There are two shadowy figures at the end of the dark alleyway the pair of you turn into. You loll your head to one side, curiosity gleaming in your irises. “I wonder what’s going on.” “T-This is all I have!” The panicked voice tears out of the stranger’s throat. “Please! Let me go!” Jimin automatically stumbles back, ready to escape to where he came from. But you lean over, interest piqued and you quicken your steps, tugging him along. “Who’s there?!” The tall brunette points his revolver towards you and you lift your hands up, stepping into the light with Jimin behind you. “What are you looking at, huh?!” You greet the man with a smile, not at all frightened with the gun being pointed at you. “Relax. I’m a part of the game too.” “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” he yells from the pit of his stomach, “Don’t tell me to relax!” Jimin’s eyes search the scene, the stranger with his pockets pulled out, wallet on the floor, shaking incessantly. The one holding him hostage and robbing him is a tall brunette with sharp features. He has a deranged look in his eye, chest rising and falling, sweat built at his hairline. He recognizes him from the party. “Taehyung, right?” you chime, “From the infamous Kim family.” “The hell do you want?!” The victim looks at Jimin and their eyes meet. The desperation and fear is tangible, and he mouths ‘help’. But then Jimin tears his eyes from the stranger, looking away. There’s nothing he can do to help him. He can barely help himself. “Nothing. We’re just passing by. Didn’t think we’d run into someone so soon, but looks fun. I’ll leave you to it then.” Taehyung glares and gestures away with his gun after a beat. You wave goodbye enthusiastically and pass by humming. Jimin follows after you, quickening his steps until the two figures become distant again. “H-How’d you know who he was?” “It’s not hard to know about the Kim family. They might all be imprisoned, but they’re famous,” you tell him as if he should know. “Even if I didn’t know about them, I would’ve, since I had to scope out my competition. I did research on everyone.” You turn to the boy with a sly smirk and your index finger pokes his chest. “Even you, Jiminnie. How do you think I know what you did? But when I read up on you, I knew I’d like you.” Your smile widens and you turn onto a suburban street. “I’ve always wanted to be part of a Bonnie and Clyde duo.” He walks with you, shrouded in the darkness while watching a flickering lamp post in the distance. You audibly play eenie, meenie, minie, moe with the houses lined on the avenue and once you land on one, you walk towards it. Jimin stalks after you. “What are you doing?” “Watch and see,” you whisper with the corners of your lips curled, twirling around to him as you walk to the front door. From the sack thrown over your shoulder, you come out with two silver pins and you show off to Jimin with your sly smile. He doesn’t expect you to pick the front lock, but he looks around and hopes no one’s watching. Within a minute, the door opens. “Nice and easy.” You skip inside like it’s your own house, but Jimin remains hesitant at the step. It takes a deep inhale before he steps through. There are shoes haphazardly thrown on the side by the closet, the entrance small. He’s led into a hall and then a living room. Enveloped in the dark, the little street lights cast in and help him find his way. Jimin’s eyes eventually stray to a shelf of frames, old wedding photos of a young couple to pictures of the family gathered around one another with enormous grins. Yet one photograph takes his attention in particular — one of a little girl in a polka dot dress, showing off her missing front tooth in a wide smile. You seem to pay no mind to the pictures. Instead, you’re leaning over to shut the open window by the armchair. The floorboards creak subtly as you creep along the walls, quietly shutting all the windows. Jimin follows along at a delayed pace, confusion written across his face. At least until you come to the stove and turn all four gas stove tops on with a smile. “What can I say? I like to get creative.” Jimin pales with the realization. You’re getting rid of an entire family with little to no effort and all you can do is silently giggle. You walk around the kitchen, up the stairs and on the way, you stop by the carbon monoxide detector to rip out the batteries from it and toss it aside. You’re methodical and careful every step of the way, always controlling the crime scene, playing it like a game of chess. Jimin’s not sure if he’s scared of you or if he admires you. The door creaks as you peer into the bedroom. He squints into the darkness over your shoulder but then you slip away to the next door. The following room is brighter. The open window is next to a street lamp outside, so Jimin can make out the princess posters pinned on the pink walls, the toy boxes shoved in the corner, and the little girl asleep soundly in her bed, covers rising and falling every so often. You don’t blink, taking three strides to reach over and shutting the window. You lock the latch. Jimin steps into the room as well, but he doesn’t see the doll on the ground. He doesn’t notice it until he accidentally kicks it aside and the thing sounds, greeting him with a deafening — “I love you!” You whirl around. His entire body freezes. The girl under the covers shuffle. She twists, turns and audibly sighs. “Mommy?” Immediately, you move. Like it’s your sheer instincts. Before Jimin can stop you, before he can call your name and tell you to spare her. You rip the pillow from underneath the girl’s head, shocking her awake, and before she can scream aloud, you press the pillow to her face. Her legs kick out, but you push your entire body weight onto her, suffocating the girl. Jimin’s knees weaken, his breath staccatos as he sees red beneath his eyes — recalling the splatter of the ceiling, of the paisley wallpaper. He should cry out, shove you off. But whenever he opens his mouth, his voice is lost. He can’t utter a word. He knows it’s too late. Stopping you would make the girl cry for her parents. They would waken. They would call the police. And he would get caught. Jimin’s too much of a coward. So he looks away.

[Saturday, 3:28am] The harsh red and blue spinning lights flash through the alley. The moment it swirls away, the scene is clouded in darkness before another shade floods inside. Seokjin releases a heavy breath, shuts his car door and strides down. He shakes away the sleepiness that still lingers after being rudely shaken awake. There wasn’t even time to get a coffee. “Detective Kim!” someone calls out. A younger man with brown doe eyes waiting for him. Seokjin wonders how he got here so soon when he wasn’t on a shift. But the new upcoming ones are always like that — ambitious and keen. Give them a few years and they’ll learn to mellow out. Or at least most of them do. He’s not so sure about Jeon Jungkook. “When’d you get here?” “Five minutes ago.” “So I suppose you’ve had enough time to take a look?” Seokjin receives gloves handed to him and puts them on. “A little.” The two of them bend over the yellow tape wrapped around the perimeter of the scene. There’s forensics in their white garbs, marking bullet casings and blood splatters, the flashes of their camera blinding to the eye. They set up their lights and the entire alley becomes illuminated. The victim is lying face up in the middle of the alleyway. His eyes are still wide open. Blood poured out in a pool and staining the pebbles. It’s splattered on the brick wall nearby. Seokjin’s brows furrow, noticing several bullet holes on the victim’s forehead. His face has been mutilated from the wound. His left shoe is also missing, but Seokjin’s eyes trail to see the leather loafer a meter away. “What’d you think?” When the older man is met with silence, he turns. Jungkook swallows hard, quiet as he stares at the corpse. Seokjin doesn’t blame him. It always takes a long time to get used to seeing dead bodies in such a way. The department might praise Jungkook for being a prodigy with the newer techniques — the whole fancy profiling spiel that Seokjin’s old mind has yet to wrap his head around. But Seokjin has one thing Jungkook lacks. Experience. Maybe that’s why the chief linked them up. They both could benefit from this partnership. “Jeon.” “Sorry.” He snaps back to it and clears his throat. “His name is Park Chanyeol. Twenty eight years old. Works in construction. He was shot in the face six times.” “Bullets?” “Point three five seven magnum. They think it’s most likely from some kind of revolver.” Seokjin hums and Jungkook continues, “His pockets are empty and his wallet is gone. It looks like an armed robbery. Most likely the victim has no connection to the perpetrator. There’s a bruise on his left cheek. He probably had a physical altercation with the perpetrator before he was shot. His knuckles are bloody, so they’re collecting DNA samples to see if it belongs to someone else. That’s most likely going to be our best bet in catching this person considering there aren’t any security cameras in this area or witnesses.” He nods and after a beat, their eyes meet again. Seokjin asks, “What else? Aside from the main facts of the case.” Jungkook inhales a deep breath. “The scene is disorganized. There’s no need to shoot someone six times. Whoever did this, not only left the body but left physical evidence. And if they have no connection to the victim, that means they did this spontaneously.” “So?” “We’re most likely looking at someone who has poor hygiene and nighttime habits. I’m guessing a man in his early twenties. Below average intelligence. His motive…..is quick financial gain and also being able to feel a sense of superiority and power.” Seokjin’s eyes narrow into the boy and his soft facial features. He’s not inclined to believe in pure speculation, but Jungkook’s proven himself right on several cases they’ve worked on together and he’s not one to disregard credit where it’s due. So, he takes his word for it. They cross the tape once more, walking back to the parked cars. The noisy static of the radios and snapshot of cameras fade into the back. “Call Baekhyun. He might want to see this for himself.” “Detective Byun is down at seventh avenue, Detective Kim.” He lifts a brow and Jungkook explains, “I heard there was a homicide case there.” “It looks like it's a busy night tonight,” Seokjin exhales, a cold cloud of air emitting from his lips. He recalls a number of police cars rushing past in the other lane while he was driving here. Jungkook gets into the passenger seat as Seokjin slides into the driver’s. “Actually, there’s multiple homicide cases being reported at the same time. More than the usual amount. It’s almost like they’re being committed at the same time.” He puts the keys into the ignition and the engine roars to life with the head beams. “Is it gang related?” “Hard to say,” the younger sharply inhales. “From what I heard, all the crime scenes are starkly different.” Seokjin frowns and casts a glance down the busy alleyway. At the same time, the DNA sample on the man’s knuckles are swabbed and bagged to be tested.

[Saturday, 7:58am] You cackle, leaning on the arm of the armchair with your legs thrown over the other. Even though Jimin was against entering the house again, you weren’t dissuaded by the lingering traces of carbon monoxide. The open window nearby is enough to air out the area and what better place is there to hide out than a definitely empty home. It gave you a chance to steal more comfortable clothes, rid of your dress and burn it too. “Nearly two hours ago, a suspect has been arrested in the second degree murder of Park Chanyeol whose body was found in the alley between Third Street and Canons Boulveard.” You’re seated on the armchair like it’s your throne as Jimin stands on your right side, less like a loyal guard dog and more of a scared puppy who’s not sure what to do. But he’s endearing like that. “Nineteen year old Kim Taehyung, the youngest member of the notorious Kim family, has been charged with second degree murder, assault with a deadly weapon, robbery and illegal possession of a firearm—” You laugh as you watch Taehyung on screen cuffed and led out of the car. He’s screaming at the reporters while his lawyer at his side tries to cover his face, but to no avail. It hasn’t even been twelve hours since the game started and he’s already caught red-handed. In all honesty, you’re a bit disappointed. It’s pleasant to have less competition, but you thought Taehyung would put up more of a fight than that. Well….you suppose this is the consequence of being as reckless as he is. “Breaking news that we just received.” The screen flashes to the news anchor. “We believe a bomb has been detonated at the city hall. That happened within the last two minutes, major evacuations are now taking place. Police have still yet to confirm the number of casualties or if this is the act done by a terrorist organization. Stay with us. The scene is now live.” Your brow quirks. Jimin stumbles forward. His hands tremble, expression stunned. The news channel gives a helicopter view of city hall, the smoke plumes rising in the air, the chaos on the road with firetrucks and police cars rushing into the scene. “Is this…” “A part of the game?” You throw your legs off, feet touching the carpet as your back straightens. It’s not time to be sitting back anymore. “Probably. I’m guessing this is Min’s work.” When Jimin remains confused, you smile and explain, “Min Yoongi. He’s a guy who likes doing flashy stuff like this. Don’t be too impressed, pet. He might have a high fatality rate, but it draws too much attention for my tastes. It makes the cops go cuckoo to find him.” You stand up and stretch your limbs over your head, groaning as you do so. Finally — there’s some real motivation. The game’s definitely more fun with characters like Yoongi. “Time to go, Jiminnie.” Your grin is enormous and your eyes gleam. “We can’t just sit back and let someone else win, can we?”

[Saturday, 10:03am] Even from the distance, the smoky air still permeates through his mask. The scene is largely cleaned up. Just a few hours ago, there were victims crying outside and tens of fire trucks parked on the curb, first responders at the scene rescuing those stranded inside and carrying out the bodies. The site is still somewhat chaotic, yellow tape lining the perimeter, debris and remaining rubble scattered all over the steps and the road; the shadows of the atrocity committed not long ago. “In all my years of work, can’t say I’ve ever seen something like this.” After closing the Kim case in record time, Seokjin only had an hour of sleep before he was abruptly called here. But it’s not just him. All investigators were pulled and dozens of homicide cases have been pushed aside in view of this event. “How many casualties?” “Twenty so far.” “So far?” Jungkook nods solemnly. “They’re pulling out more bodies from the rubble.” Seokjin sighs, feeling his dark circles deepen in its lilac shade. A moment later, he catches a familiar figure approaching from his peripheral vision. Someone with a sharp jawline, darkened hair and a five o’clock shadow around his mouth. Said man appears even more exhausted than Seokjin is, as if he’s aged an additional ten years. He’s not at all like the strapping, energetic friend he had at the academy all those years ago. Seokjin manages a smile to the all too familiar Chief of Police. “It’s not often I see you out on the field anymore. I always thought you would get a stroke in that office chair of yours.” “Sometimes the time calls for it, Jin. I can’t always sit back with my hands clean.” “And here I thought you forgot what it’s like to get down and dirty.” “Sir,” Jungkook greets Hoseok, lowering his head just an inch out of respect. Hoseok nods. “You must be the new profiler that was transferred over. I believe we met once.” “At the gala.” “Yes. How have you been managing? I’ve been hearing great things about you.” “I’ve been doing alright. Just trying my best.” “He’s keen,” Seokjin says and Hoseok’s lips curl, knowing full well how he feels about keeners. “Good. Maybe that’ll inspire you to be less grumpy.” He scoffs and ignores him. “What do you have for me?” In spite of the difference in their positions, their friendship allows them to be casual with one another. After all, they started at the same time and it was Hoseok who chose to climb the ladder and make his way to the top. Seokjin, on the other hand, has never been one for bureaucracy. Many find his brash way of speaking displeasing, and it’s not what he signed up for either. “The bomb was sent in a thin package.” The file folder is passed to him as they walk. Seokjin flips it open and studies the photograph of the dollar sign symbol carved into a metal piece, the signature trademark. “So it’s the Unabomber copycat?” “I don’t know if I’d go as far as to call him a copycat.” “Then he’s at least a more advanced version.” Seokjin flips through the report. “It seems like he’s more sophisticated. Are you planning on setting up a task force to find the guy?” “I don’t know yet.” Hoseok drags a hand over his face. “I have a few investigators in mind that I might assign.” “But not us?” “We’re full hands on deck. I’d rather have my most efficient detectives on standby in case something else happens which I have a feeling it just might.” Hoseok’s cautious, always saving his best cards. “In the last twelve hours, crime in the city has spiked to two hundred percent, but there are no connections at all to any of them. I want you to look into it and see if you have any theories. As for this case, the bombing of city hall, I just wanted to hear your thoughts.” Seokjin hums and turns to the younger man who’s been listening in. “What do you think, Jungkook?” It takes a second to collect his thoughts. Then, Jungkook’s doe eyes lift, unwavering. “Whoever did this, they left little evidence to work with. The origins of the package can’t be tracked either. So not only did they make the explosive themselves, they controlled every step of it.” “Above average intelligence.” Jungkook nods. “And most likely an outcast of society. In the past, this bomber targeted high members of society. And of all the places they could’ve sent it to, they chose city hall this time. Not to mention, his trademark is peculiar. It’s not any initials, it’s a symbol. The dollar sign. I think this person has an ideological motive.” “Then he’ll most likely be in contact with the police or news outlets soon to spread whatever message he has,” Seokjin adds. “Most likely. I think we’re looking at someone organized and nonsocial, someone who lives alone and follows the news closely.” Hoseok smiles. “That’s more than enough to work with.”

[Saturday, 12:01pm] “Where are we going?” Jimin struggles to keep up with your determined strides. “Winning the game isn’t just about who kills more, Jiminnie,” you teach him with a sly smile. “You also have to strategize how to take down your competitors.” The pair of you step up the driveway to the door and you hold the doorbell down with your index finger for an extended amount of time. Then, you knock thrice. There’s silence. “Who’s house is this?” “His name is Kim Namjoon. He’s a big competitor.” Jimin’s head whips towards you. “We’re at his house?!” You grin. “Pretty sure. What’s the issue?” He opens his mouth, but no words are uttered. Jimin can’t wrap his mind around how he’s on a serial killer’s doorstep, how you’ve knocked on it, expecting it to open. “How do you even know this is his?” “I told you. I did my research on everyone, Jiminnie. And don’t worry. If this is really his place, he’ll let us in. It’s not like he can leave us on his porch.” You turn around to wave enthusiastically at an elderly neighbour walking her dog. You’re clinically insane — Jimin’s sure of it. But even if you come off as deranged, it’s apparent you’ve thought things through, that you’ve strategized every step. He wonders if that’s why he feels a sense of calm, why it always feels like Jimin’s rooted in the ground when he sees you. There’s a shift at the door and you look towards the peephole with a massive smile. The door cracks open. There’s an older man in his forties, thick framed glasses around kind eyes and wrinkles, a dimpled smile and blonde locks. They recognize each other from the party. “What are you doing here?” “Seeking refuge obviously,” you sing-song. “Can we come in or what?” Namjoon’s glare turns menacing. His pupils are blown, eyes bulging from their sockets as his mouth lopsides. The facade of the friendly neighbour crumbles instantaneously and Jimin instinctively shuffles back in intimidation and fear. But then the door widens a moment later. “Ugh.” You step aside from the large puddle of blood on the floorboards. Jimin’s eyes expand. The streaks of the crimson fluid are pulled towards a closed door meters away as if a body was dragged. “Clean that up, will you?” Jimin’s knees shake, but he follows after you, stepping aside and slipping into the house. The door is slammed shut. You’re humming, looking at all the decor of the cozy abode. “Nice house. I like the green drapes.” “What do you want?” Namjoon stalks after the two of you. “If you’re looking for someone so you can be a trio, I’ll have to refuse. I don’t work well with others and I don’t like anyone interfering with my business.” “That’s disappointing. I’ll just take breakfast then.” You round the corner, plopping down on the wooden chair by the small dining table. “Have anything good to eat? I’m starving!” The man glares. You prop your elbow on the table, pouting at him. “Just let us hide out for a while and we’ll leave. Promise.” “You should’ve done this somewhere else,” he warns, yet turns towards his kitchen. Jimin releases his held breath from his tense body and comes to sit next to you. He leans in close to whisper, “What are you planning?” “You’ve never poked a bear before, Jiminnie? It’s all part of the fun. Relax,” you coax him with a crooked smile. Jimin doesn’t know but it’s because of him that you’re even able to pull this stunt off. He has this permanently scared look on his face, his features etched with fear and regret. It’s endearing, but because of that, Namjoon is sincerely fooled into thinking that you came here as a last resort to escape from prying eyes and just to have a meal. Jimin has the ability to disarm. And if it wasn’t for him, Namjoon would never believe you. You look around at the fake flowers in the vase, the nature calendar on the wall, the table without a smudge. Then your eyes trail to a thick pile of photos across the table and you lurch over to grab the stack. You hum. Jimin pales. “Is that….” “Yep.” Jimin immediately looks away. It’s dark pictures of dismembered bodies, naked and tied up women caught in the camera’s yellow flash, and women who are just walking on the street, unaware that they’re being stalked and captured from afar. But each photograph is meticulously labeled with a date and name, sometimes with a phone number at the back. Namjoon’s one of those types who like to call the family of victims just to taunt them, to record conversations he has with victims to play it back for them. Even for your standards, you know he’s sick. Your study session is interrupted by a meow. An orange tabby cat with narrowed pupils jumps onto the table and then suddenly, the pictures are being snatched out of your hands. Namjoon’s jaw is clamped, teeth gritted together. He plops down a plate of baked pastries and jams, and quickly collects the stack of photographs. “That’s not yours to look at.” “Sorry.” You loll your head to one side. “Got curious.” There’s an ear-piercing, muffled scream that makes Jimin flinch — a bloodcurdling ‘help’ echoing along the walls. It’s coming from the basement. You whirl your head back to your host. “Shouldn’t you go take care of that?” “Don’t touch anything,” Namjoon warns in a low voice and steps away. You grab the croissant and your teeth tear into it. Your other hand reaches for the cat and the animal allows you to scratch underneath its chin. Its tail curls and it hops off the table. “Y/N.” For the first time, Jimin calls you by your name and you turn to him. He’s timidly eating his cream cheese pastry with strawberry jam and you reach over with your sleeve to wipe the corner of his mouth free from crumbs. “Yes?” “Would...you ever kill me?” He wonders what it would be like if you considered him a competitor. Or if he wasn’t competing at all, if he could be your victim. Part of him wants to trust you just because it’s easier that way. To be a follower. Hold zero responsibilities. Make no decisions. But he’s not sure if he should allow himself to. Jimin still has yet to figure out how much he should lean on you and believe in your methods. He doesn’t want to win and you know it too. All he wants is to just be kept safe from the organizers of the event, from the other serial killers, from the police. And it looks like as long as he follows you, everything will work in both of your favours. “Why would I, silly?” Your smile softens. “It would be too much of a waste if I did.” It’s not long after the breakfast shenanigans at Kim Namjoon’s house that you make your exit with a ‘see you later’ and slip back onto the suburban street undetected. The older man is happy to have you gone, but if he knew what was up your sleeve, he wouldn’t feel that way. “A-Are y-you sure this is a good idea?” Jimin’s shaking again, wide-eyed as he grips the phone in the red phone booth. You’re forcing him to make the call purely because it’s too cute to see him sweat under the pressure. “There aren’t any rules against being a snitch, Jiminnie.” You grin. “And since when did serial killers follow any rules or moral conducts in the first place?”

[Saturday, 6:00pm] Jungkook scrubs his hands. Once his skin is free of soap, he turns off the tap and braces himself against the porcelain sink. He exhales staggeringly. He’s seen stuff like this before — made to listen to countless interviews and interrogations, watched tons of videos. It was all a part of his training. But it’s different when it’s not through a screen and when he’s sitting on a cushy chair behind a desk. It’s different when he’s the one apprehending the criminal and collecting the evidence with his own hands. Jungkook swallows hard and goes for more soap, trying to rid himself of the disgust he feels. Kim Namjoon was taken in not even a half hour ago. Luckily, it’s an airtight case. At least with the stack of photos Jungkook found and the two victims barely alive in his basement that was sent away on ambulances. The man might remain silent, but the evidence is insurmountable. Jungkook turns the tap off, wipes his hands with paper towels, discards it in the trash and walks out of the bathroom. He puts on a stoic expression. He has a job to do. He was assigned this case when they’re short-handed with other detectives and officers, so there’s no choice but to detach himself and be professional. He finds his partner in his office, seated in his chair and fiddling with a rectangular card. “Detective Kim?” Seokjin looks up. “They found this on Kim Namjoon when they were booking him in.” It’s black, but golden looped letters etched into the smooth card reads welcome. Seokjin flips it over but there’s nothing else on the card. “Kim Taehyung had the exact same one,” the older man reveals on an exhale and that immediately piques Jungkook’s attention who cocks a brow. “Then they know each other. Or at least, they’re connected somehow. If this isn’t gang-related then is it possible that Namjoon knows the Kim family somehow?” “It doesn’t seem likely. The Kim family is high profile. They wouldn’t have anything to do with a middle class man in his forties living in the suburbs.” Seokjin leans back, scrutinizing the black card and the golden letters. He thinks about the big picture. “But what if this was indeed organized? But by different criminals banding together.” Their eyes meet. “Like they picked a date to have a massacre.” Jungkook frowns. It’s improbable — an almost outlandish theory. The logistics of it seem too difficult to be feasible. How would a bunch of serial killers with no connection whatsoever be able to meet, arrange and agree on something doing something like that? And for what reason? Yet that would serve to explain how crime has escalated so drastically in the city within the past day, how there seems to be homicides happening on every single corner. Jungkook’s train of thoughts crash when Seokjin tosses the card on his desk and sighs, “Have they traced who gave the tip yet?” “It’s from a phone booth on the corner of Westminster lane.” “I didn’t know people still used phone booths,” he muses, threading his hands together. “There weren’t any security cameras, but there was one down the road by a jewelry store. They caught two figures there at the same time the call was made.” Jungkook moves a file folder on his cluttered desk forward and the older man finally flips it open. It’s a fuzzy black and white shot of the camera. He’s barely able to make out the two distinct shapes next to one another. But Seokjin’s unable to study it for long when his cellphone starts blaring. He sighs and picks it up. “What is it?” Seokjin’s silent for a long while and then he hums that he’ll be right there before hanging up. That’s never a good sign, so Jungkook braces himself as Seokjin stands and grabs his coat. “A family was just found dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. They suspect there’s foul play.”

[Saturday, 6:00pm] The curdling shriek tears through Jimin’s eardrums. He shrinks back, shutting his eyes as tight as he can until they hurt. He doesn’t allow a sliver of light to come through. He can’t look. He won’t. Even when he knows that right in front of him, you’re choking an old grandma, pinning her to the floor, your grip loose enough so she can still scream. After a long moment, there’s silence and he hyperventilates. “You can look now, Jiminnie. I’m not finished but you can still look.” “No.” He shakes his head furiously, curled into a fetal position. He won’t risk it. So he stays where he is, against the wall, on the floral carpet on the floor. Jimin hears your sigh and then there are footsteps. What follows is the noise of fabric tearing, threads being roughly pulled. He hitches his breath and automatically flinches when he feels you behind him, your warm breath against his neck. “Relax. I got you a blindfold.” You delicately wrap the black cloth around his eyes. And you tie it into a pretty bow behind his head while humming a light tune. Jimin’s fingers brush against the silky material. He hesitates but trusts you enough to finally peel back his lids. He encounters the comfortable darkness. “You don’t need to look if you don’t want to,” you chime and he feels your presence fade away from his backside. He exhales, loosening the tension in his body. But he still doesn’t understand. Jimin can’t comprehend how you can be so accommodating and thoughtful to him one moment and the next, your eyes are cold to others. “Why are you doing this?” “Because I want to and it’s fun.” Your giggle tinkles. “Don’t you think so, pet? To have someone at your complete mercy. To see the fear in their eyes and hear them beg.” With his vision gone, his other senses are in overdrive. Jimin perceives the sharp scent of iron in his nose, tastes the sultry air, and hears rustling. He catches the way you’re panting, how each breath seems heavy from your lungs. “Lots of people do it for different reasons. For sexual pleasure, the thrill, for their beliefs, or even because they get angry like you do,” you state nonchalantly and he flinches. “There doesn’t need to always be a complicated reason. You can do it out of sheer spite even.” For the next minute, it goes eerily quiet. Jimin doesn’t know if you’re gone, if you’ve left the room, or if you’ve abandoned him entirely. His arms lift up into the air, batting at the empty space. He’s about to call your name, but then hears your footsteps. “All done!” you sing-song. You reach behind him, undoing the ties and the blindfold slips off. There isn’t a body in sight. Jimin’s met with your smile.

[Saturday, 7:48pm] “What is happening is very unfortunate and our hearts reach out to all the families of these victims. These senseless crimes will not go unpunished. The terror these criminals have inflicted on the population will not dissuade this country from seeking justice. I have called upon the best personnel who will be involved in these criminal investigations. We ask that during this process all people take caution and stay inside. And I ask that people send their thoughts and prayers…” Jimin’s focus on the President’s press conference happening in the corner television fades as you start singing to the country music playing overhead. He turns his attention to you. His expression must be impressed on how you know all the lyrics since you lean in with a grin. “I love this song.” He never took you to be much of a country music lover. The retro diner is cozy, a long counter with stools, classic red booths and yellow lights. It’s as if time has stopped in this place and the emptiness only adds to the eerie atmosphere. The waitress with a half white apron and dress comes out and places two plates on the table. “Here’s your regular stack of pancakes with a side of fruit and bacon, and the strawberry avalanche french toast.” You smile. “Thanks.” The woman nods with a “you’re welcome” and returns to the back. Jimin doesn’t have much of an appetite. But he tries his best to stomach the food, cutting through the bread and piercing it with the fork. You, on the other hand, visibly blanch at the sliced strawberries, banana and oranges on your plate and one by one, you transfer them over to his. The corner of Jimin’s mouth twitches. “You don’t like fruit?” “Not really. I only like grapes.” You grab the maple syrup and Jimin watches with his bugged-out eyes how you nearly empty half the canister. By the time you’re satisfied, your pancakes are drowning in the syrup. Yet you grin happily, excited as you cut into them. You fill your cheeks and Jimin lets his entire smile slip. “I’m guessing you like pancakes.” “I love them.” Your knife scrapes the plate as you saw down into the fluffy texture. You muse, “I never got to eat them much as a kid.” “What did you eat then?” “A lot of vegetables, fermented food, canned stuff,” you say while chewing in your cheek. Jimin pushes the strawberries around on his plate for a moment before his eyes lift and his voice lowers. “When...did you start killing people, Y/N?” “I don’t know. Ever since I was born, I guess,” you deadpan. And after he stares at you for an extended period of time, you elaborate, “I grew up in a cult. Anyone who disobeyed or did bad things was killed. It’s normal.” You shrug. “I don’t know why people make such a big deal about it. People are okay with killing pigs and cows to eat, but not humans.” It’s jarring to hear and it makes it hard to swallow down his food. “Well, it’s different.” “Is it?” you ask. “We’re all animals. Having exceptions seems hypocritical. Plus, some people deserve to die, right? That’s why the death penalty exist.” It’s an odd sense of logic. But what’s even stranger is that he can discern where you’re coming from. “Why do some people deserve to die more than others? Just because of their actions?” You cut into your pancakes. “If the government kills someone, that’s somehow okay. But if I kill someone, then that’s bad. Who decided that?” “The world is full of contradictions.” You swallow a mouthful. “At the end of the day, aren’t laws just made by people trying to govern and control other people? Burning witches at the stake used to be legal, you know.” Jimin’s unable to keep his gaze away from you. If it wasn’t against the law, he wouldn’t be so scared of getting caught. He wouldn’t have had to spend the last year constantly looking over his shoulder and afraid of sirens. But if it wasn’t against the law, would he even be sitting with you right now and having this conversation? The games wouldn’t exist. There would be no reason to come up with something like the Weekend Massacre. Then again, it’s because they didn’t catch him that he could be sitting here at this time. The flawed system made up by people to regulate others failed to accomplish their goal. You finish the pancakes in a flash and somehow, Jimin finds the strength to finish his too. Once he’s done, he pushes it aside and your eyes gleam. “Ready?” “For what?” “Running, silly.” You grab his hand across the table, stand and yank him out from his seat. “Have you never dined and dashed before?” You start running before he can protest. Jimin hears the shout and curses of the waitress from behind as you shove the door open and it bangs against the wall with the golden bell up top. You’re giggling, sprinting as fast as you can, ducking and moving between the crowd. Jimin struggles to keep up but he widens his pace and quickly matches your speed. He steals a glimpse of you, catching the fleeting moment of the wind twirling through your hair, the way your eyes are crinkled with your playfully devious smile, how your expression is innocent as you’re committing such a juvenile crime. Hands held, Jimin interlaces his fingers with yours. You turn your head, locking your eyes with his, and softening your gaze. “People like us need to stick together, Jiminnie. We’ll always be marginalized for what we do.” You’re right. He’s been living like an outcast out of fear, and if people knew the crimes he’s committed, he would be casted away either way. But the realization sinks into Jimin — you’re the first and probably the only person who wouldn’t look at him any differently for what he’s done. You don’t treat him like he’s a monster. Even when he’s scared of himself, you aren’t. His hand holding yours tightens.

[Saturday, 9:07pm] Seokjin hasn’t slept. He doesn’t think he’ll get the chance to tonight. There’s no time to when he was being called left, right and center. There are crime scenes behind dumpsters, on the fifth level of a downtown apartment, murderers on every corner of the city. Every officer off duty and on duty have been called, spread thin throughout, and with every hour, there seems to be more and more murders. It’s impossible that this is done by one person or even by five. But Seokjin doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t experienced something like this before — this massacre. He leans back into the uncomfortable chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. Seokjin studies the black card with golden letters etched into it, the word welcome catching the light. If this was indeed an organized massacre, then how and who? How could this many killers come together and be this organized? Who is behind it and orchestrating it? And why? Could it be for fame alone? For chaos? It feels like it’s all part of some sick game. “Jin, you wanted to talk to me?” He’s snapped out of his thoughts by his old friend unlocking his office. Hoseok is disoriented and exhausted, coat hanging off of his arm, briefcase swinging in his hand. He doesn’t look like he’s had the chance to sleep either. Seokjin stands from his seat, having waited for the man, and he follows him into his office. It’s monotone except for the dog figurine on top of the file cabinet and the many awards and certificates framed in a line on the wall. They offered this office to Seokjin once. He refused. He’s starting to think he shouldn’t have. Seokjin shuts the door behind him. With the blinds still opened, he witnesses some officers rush past. Hoseok throws his briefcase onto his desk and collapses into his chair. “Did you take a look at the monoxide poisoning case?” “I have, but there aren’t any leads yet. The extended family’s not looking to do autopsies.” “Give them some time.” Hoseok rolls up his sleeves. “They might change their minds. What did you want to talk to me about?” Seokjin leans forward, palms flat on the wooden oak of the desk. “I think we should call a citywide lock down.” For the first time, Hoseok appears alert again. His posture straightens. “What?” “We need to tell people to stay inside, Hoseok. That’s the best way to protect them.” “The best way to protect them is to be out there on the street.” “And that’s what we’ve been doing.” His index finger juts against the file folders piling up. “This is getting out of hand and you know it.” But Hoseok merely shakes his head. “It would never bode well.” “We can’t have people running out on the street to get killed,” he spits. Jung Hoseok stands and the two of them come face to face. “A lockdown would only increase hysteria. This is the time to keep people calm. Mass panic won’t help anyone.” “People dying won’t help anyone either.” “Don’t tell me how to do my job!” Hoseok shouts, red in the face, anger overwhelming exhaustion. Someone outside the windows halts before quickening their pace. “You do your job and I’ll do mine!” Seokjin’s jaw ticks. He feels frustration’s urge to launch himself forward, shake the man until he’s heard. But instead, he steps back and swallows hard. “Fine.” He’s powerless to Hoseok’s authority and he can sense it — neither of them are willing to budge. “I’ll take my leave then.” As Seokjin shuts the door, Hoseok collapses into his chair again with a sigh. “Is everything alright?” Jungkook’s stopped in the hall, doe eyes rounded. Seokjin nods. He doesn’t dwell on the subject. “How did the interrogation with Kim Taehyung go?” “It was unsuccessful. He refused to talk without his family lawyer.” He’s not surprised. “They’re about to start on Kim Namjoon, right?”

[Saturday, 9:33pm] Jungkook hesitates, left hand on the steel knob. But then he takes a deep breath and opens it. The room is small, brightly lit, a rectangular table on one side of the cream wall with uncomfortable chairs adjacent to each other. One of them is occupied with a glasses-clad, blonde man. He’s dressed in jeans and a flannel, sitting straight, eyes following Jungkook. “Hello, you must be Kim Namjoon.” The corner of his mouth politely quirks. “I’m officer Jeon Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you.” Jungkook’s open hand is refused. Namjoon never shakes it. He simply stares at him. Yet the detective is undeterred and his smile remains, although it never reaches his eyes. He takes a seat and places the file folder on the table. He mimics Namjoon’s posture and leans forward to be closer to the man. “I believe you know why you’re here.” It’s quiet. “We’ve been looking into several cases of missing women and they’ve all been traced to your house, Namjoon. We found the photos as well and two witnesses are still alive. I’m here because I want to know why you did this. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. I want to understand you.” Namjoon stays silent. His eyes cold. Expression blank. It’s not looking good. “Look, I’m here to help you, Namjoon. We’re beyond denial. Silence won’t help you anymore. It would be better for you to come forward and let me know what’s going on. It’s not like a person wakes up one day and decides they’re going to kill someone. If it’s something in your childhood or if it’s because these women have wronged you somehow then I want to know, so I can help you.” A minute passes, but the forty-year old man refuses to utter a single syllable. Jungkook flips open the file folder. There’s the black business card on top of the paperwork, the golden letters looped into the word welcome. He picks it up and shows him. “What is this?” There’s not a single peep. “Can you tell me where you got it from, Namjoon? Do you know who gave this to you?” Jungkook continues, “It was on Kim Taehyung as well and unless you want to be responsible for his crimes on top of yours, then I think it’s best if you tell me how the two of you are connected with one another. I know this isn’t normal. The both of you are from very different backgrounds. You don’t know him personally, do you?” Jungkook is steadfast, searching the man’s expression for some sort of clue. But Namjoon is motionless, unresponsive, as if he’s prepared himself for this situation before. The man has no intentions on revealing a single thing — he plans to make it as difficult as possible. Jungkook concedes this time and switches his tactics. He puts the card down and flips to the back of the folder. There’s a flash photograph of a corpse without their arms. Jungkook swallows hard upon looking at it and then slides it across the table. “Do you know who this is?” There’s silence. Namjoon looks right at Jungkook. “This is Lee Wendy. She’s a mother of a five-year old boy.” He exhales in staccatos. “You stalked her, didn’t you, Namjoon? We have the pictures you took when she was grocery shopping and when she was taking out the garbage.” There’s a pause. “After you took her, you called her family and told them…that...she cries out for her son a lot, right?” Jungkook drops his hands into his lap, trying to hide the shakiness of them. Yet he forces his voice to remain steady with the picture of Wendy still on the table. “Why did you do this?” “You knew all of their names, didn’t you? And you followed each of them for weeks.” “Have you ever—” The older man finally speaks up in a baritone, nearly startling the young officer. But finally Namjoon’s listless eyes aren’t glazed over. Instead, they’re looking straight into Jungkook’s pupils, ogling deep into his soul. “—felt drawn into someone so much that you felt an itch to do it.” His voice doesn’t come. Jungkook’s pinned to his spot, scrutinized by the monster’s fixated, terrifying gaze that’s a mere inch away. The same eyes that had looked upon countless women. That lured them into his home. Chained them in his basement around the water pipes. Torn into their bones with the hacksaws— Jungkook stands. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t take it. “If you’ll excuse me,” he manages to mutter. He staggers out. And once the door shuts, Jungkook braces himself with his hands on his knees, wheezing. From the adjacent room, Seokjin emerges in alarm. The others in the room look out at him. “Jeon! Are you alright? You were getting somewhere!” Jungkook shakes his head. “I-I’m sorry. I just...her photo was right there and I...I—” “Hey. It’s alright.” There are firm pats on the back, a comforting squeeze at his shoulder. “We can get someone else in there.” Jungkook tries to straighten himself out, but his professional facade has crumbled. He’s ashamed as he is nauseated. “I really tried, Detective Kim.” “And you did good,” Seokjin reassures. “You got him talking, even if it was just a sentence. Better than any of us could. He’ll crack sooner or later.” Jungkook takes deep breaths and nods. But before any of them have a chance to say much else, an officer runs towards them with panic-stricken over her face. It’s not a good sign. “There’s been another bombing.”

[Saturday, 11:19pm] He picks up the black handle of the payphone. The dial tone is monotonous on the other end and he carefully slips the nickels into the slot. “Five four six,” you read off the numbers you scribbled on your wrist with permanent marker and Jimin follows, pressing the number pad. He was innocent when he asked you earlier how you knew the number, but it wasn’t a big secret. If Jimin didn’t come late to the party, he would’ve had a better grasp on what the games are about, the details and the how-to’s. He might’ve been able to meet a few others as well. But it was fine by you. He doesn’t need to know anything or anyone when he knows you. After you read the string of numbers, he stays quiet. After a moment, you hear the muffled voice on the other end. Jimin glances at you. “I’m calling on behalf of Y/N.” Thirty seconds pass and then he’s hanging up. You look expectedly at him, lashes batting, bright smile spreading into your cheeks. “So?” “You’re in second place,” Jimin informs, swallowing hard to deliver the news. “Behind Yoongi. There’s a person behind you by two.” “And Yoongi?” “He’s ahead by ten. There are nine others left in the game.” You sigh, backside hitting the brick wall of the seedy strip mall. It’s not terrible, but not as good as your estimations. “We need to step up our game if we want to win, Jiminnie.” His confused and curious expression reminds you of a puppy. Jimin’s too cute, especially when he follows after you when you walk off. He’s always trailing your shadow, one step behind your heel. You can’t help turning around just to take a peek at him. “Y/N.” “Hmm?” Jimin’s brows are furrowed, pouty lips lopsided, voice tender and quiet in the night. “Do you know who started this game?” “I don’t.” You face the dark road dimly illuminated by the streetlamps again. Before the games, you did a lot of personal research, but you were never quite able to dig that deep. “People like you and I probably, or people who just want to watch the world burn. Or maybe…” “Maybe?” “People who don’t like the current police force and want to overthrow it.” It’s plausible. A theory you never really thought about, but it sounds good. You shift over your shoulder with a glimmer in your eye. “What better way to mess with an institution than by throwing it into absolute chaos? And what better chaos is there than a bunch of criminals running rampant in the city?” Jimin has that conflicted look on his face like he’s not sure if he should believe you. But you’re not even sure if you should believe yourself. It’s been a long time since you could differentiate between your own lies and truths. Your bad habit of running your mouth and saying whatever you want, whatever comes to mind, has long engrained itself into your behaviour. “What’s the prize for doing all this? I mean, what’s in it for everyone else?” “Notoriety, of course,” you giggle at Jimin’s naivety. “Don’t you want to be remembered as the first ever champion, pet? Come on, stop asking so many questions and hurting your head with it.” You grab his hand, pulling him along while you laugh. Jimin stumbles after you but catches up. You’ve noticed — Jimin doesn’t seem so hesitant or scared of you anymore. And it’s a change you welcome happily. This is a partnership after all and it’s not right if he’s frightened of you. The pair of you careen in the middle of the road as you sing songs from musicals you’ve never seen, disrupting the peace and quiet. And when you turn to him, Jimin’s smiling tenderly at you, in a way you’ve never witnessed before. “Have you ever thought of giving this up, Y/N?” he asks a little later. “Have you ever thought of trying to live a normal life?” You’re not sure why he’s asking something so useless or what even constitutes a normal life. But any semblance of doing anything different than what you are now seems entirely unnecessary. There’s no reason to when you’re enjoying it so much. When this is who you are. “Why would I?”

[Sunday, 6:21am] It’s a sick and twisted game. Jimin picks and you kill. It’s eenie, meenie, minie, moe with the worst consequences, where he chooses the victims at their face value — lone, drunk gangsters making a ruckus, the old man trying to convince an intoxicated woman to come along with him, the girl that seems to be harassing her classmate. He doesn’t know their name or their story, but he tries not to think about it. Jimin doesn’t dwell as he makes his choice. And as you follow through with his decision, he never once looks. He can’t. Not when he’s blindfolded himself and can only catch the noises. The begging. The screaming. The crying. The squealing. The silence that follows. “You can look now—” is the only cue from you that allows him to slip off the black blindfold and not to have to witness the victims looking at him, pleading with their eyes, blaming his passivity. Most of the time, you’ve moved the body out of the way. Rolled up in a carpet to be abandoned, buried, thrown into the river, or bagged and ready to be burnt. Or even simply laying in their bed as if they died of natural causes. You know how to control the crime scene — every trace and clue has its own purpose, to distract, to mask. You don’t even so much as leave a hair behind. But this time, none of that is the case. The corpse of the man lays in front of him and Jimin tries to find his voice again. “W-Why is the body convulsing? What did you do?” You kick the stranger’s leg and after a moment, it stops moving. You shrug. “I found pills in the medicine cabinet. I made him take it all and covered his mouth with my hand so he wouldn’t try to spit it out.” Jimin looks at you. And you flash a smile. “Changing up the method makes it harder for the police to capture us. Plus, isn’t it more fun that way?” “How….a-are you going to dispose of the body?” You hum, tapping your chin as if you’re picking from a long list inside your head. Then your eyes suddenly light with amusement and you lean closer to him, irises twinkle with the first crack of dawn’s light. “What if we dumped it in front of the police station?”

[Sunday, 6:48am] Jimin’s driving this time and he’s sweating bullets with the corpse in the backseat. He constantly ducks his head when a police car drives by and he looks in the rear-view mirror more often than out the windshield. It’s endearing to watch. He won’t relax even if you tell him to, so you do his part for him. Your feet are propped up on the dash, window rolled down to feel the breeze as you hum to the tunes of the radio. Jimin really shouldn’t act so suspicious unless he has something to be sorry for. Everyone likes to talk about how valuable human lives are until their own interests get in the way — polluting the environment, refusing refugees, entering wars for economics. They’re so, so hypocritical. “There it is!” You sit straight and Jimin’s breaths become laboured as he parks across the road on the curb. The precinct is an old cream brick, sitting right on the corner with the flag on the side of the building. You grin. “Let’s go!” “Y/N, I...I-I don’t think this is a good idea—” But there’s nothing to worry about, not when your faces are covered with your hoods and the stolen sunglasses. Jimin really needs to live a little. Everything you do is a calculated risk and this just happens to be on the higher end, but it’s fun that way. He really needs to learn that caution should only be practiced in moderation or else he’ll spend the rest of his life quivering in fear. You get out of the car before Jimin can finish. His eyes widen and he’s forced to follow after you. You round the stolen vehicle and pop open the passenger side of the door. “If we’re doing this, we need to do it quickly.” The edges of your lips quirk. “Help me out, pet.” You grab the man’s ankle and Jimin fumbles before grabbing the other. He winces and looks away. But the both of you pull with all your might. The skull cracks as it lands onto the concrete. Limbs tangled. Body dumped. You slam the door shut and run. Jimin slides back into the driver’s seat as you take shotgun again. He shifts the gears into drive, pumping the gas hard as you cackle. The precinct is left in the dust. “Oh my god.” Jimin exhales. “I can’t believe we just did that. We...w-we just dumped a body in front of the police station!” “I know!” You grin, riding on the rush of exhilaration. It was done right under their noses without them even noticing. “I knew you could do it, Jiminnie!” As Jimin drives back to the house to swap cars again, the sun rises over the horizon. It pierces its golden light into the lightening blue sky, the air feeling crisp this morning. You know there’s a lot in store for the rest of the day — in just a few hours, you might be crowned the champion. “Jimin! Stop the car for a second!” You tap him on his arm and alarm takes over his expression. The vehicle comes to a screeching halt, wheels marking the asphalt. Luckily, there’s no one on the road to rear-end him, but you don’t dwell on the fact. You undo your seat belt and climb out. Jimin watches with his hands on the steering wheel as you rush to the phone booth on the corner of the street. You roll the loose change you have from your pocket into the slot. And you dial 911. It rings only once before a woman’s calm voice comes alive on the other line. “911, what is your emergency?” You’re still catching your breath from the excitement of it all. “I killed them, you know. I did it.” “W-What?” The dispatcher's voice is pitched and you smirk. “Who did you kill?” “Enjoy that body I left. Good luck catching me.” You drop the handset while laughing, leaving it dangling on its wire. The echoing voice of the woman with her helpless — “Hello? Hello?” — fades as you walk away. It’s always a joy to mess with them. You get back into the car and Jimin whisks you away.

[Sunday, 9:14am] Seokjin is being driven crazy and he knows it. Between caffeine stops and the piles of file folders growing on his desk, his head throbbing was worsening. But there’s no room to complain, not when the other officers and detectives in the department have their hands full as well. Several other criminals have been caught, charged, interrogated within the past day. All with the same black card reading welcome. Yet most of the crimes left to tackle remain unsolved. Namely the Capital Bomber, as they started calling him, and whoever left the tip. Or rather, the taunt. The body of Choi Soobin was dumped in front of the station two hours earlier — the two shapeless figures were seen on the security cameras — the victim’s car was being driven and then somehow returned to his home in perfect condition without a fingerprint to dust for. And that mocking voice provoked everyone. It came from a phone booth again. But it was a woman’s voice this time. “Detective Kim.” Seokjin looks up from his desk. The young man’s hair is in a disarray — it looks like he followed Seokjin’s instructions to get some shut eye on the couch in the break room. There’s no point in working oneself to exhaustion and inhibiting cognitive function. He would’ve slept too if the multiple cases on his plate didn’t keep him up. “I know we’re not officially on the task force, but there’s been some new developments with the charity bombing.” “What is it?” Seokjin urges him to step forward and Jungkook hands him the folder. Inside, there are close photographs of some penciled scribbles on pieces of metal. “This was found inside one of the parts of the bomb. It looks like notes of some kind. The lab’s still doing their analysis, but we might be able to match it with someone.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “They always slip up at some point.” “I took a look at the list of suspects as well.” “And what did you make of it?” “These three particularly stand out,” Jungkook says and Seokjin flips the page. He encounters a brunette with big eyes. “His name is Boo Seungkwan. He’s twenty five. Single. Living alone. No family alive. He has a background in physics. But oddly enough, he’s been unemployed for the past five years. He had been convicted of animal cruelty a while back and has been on the down-low ever since.” “Sounds isolated.” Seokjin nods. “Worth looking into.” “The next person is Mark Tuan. Thirty. Immigrated here back in o six. Divorced two years ago with one daughter who’s five. He’s a mathematics professor but he’s been on a sabbatical for over a year now. His sister called in and said he thinks the bomber might be him because of some conversation they had.” He hums, staring at the picture for a moment before he flips the page. Seokjin finds a darker hair man with a tender face and sleepy eyes. He skims over the information provided as Jungkook elaborates, “He’s Min Yoongi. He’s thirty two. Single. Lives alone. His older brother works in accounting, but they seem estranged. He spent three months in a youth detention center once, but somehow managed to pick himself back up and graduated from Yale ten years ago with a Master’s degree in biochemistry. But strangely, he never worked a day in his life. I can’t seem to find an address on him either.” “What was he in the detention center for?” “Trying to burn his school down.” “That’ll definitely get you in there,” Seokjin exhales in surprise. “It was a particularly bad case too, so they never sealed the records of it.” Somehow, Seokjin feels less exhausted now that there was a direction in the case. He muses how beneficial it is to have such a capable partner, to have someone to depend on. Seokjin feels a tinge of guilt for denying the young profiler all those months ago. “Good work, Jeon.” Jungkook’s timid smile disappears as quickly as it comes. “I still haven’t drawn up any suspects for the carbon monoxide family case or the duo responsible for the phone booth calls.” “We still have some time, so don’t beat yourself over it,” he notes. “I’ve been looking into it myself. I don’t know if this is a purposeful pattern or just a coincidence, but have you realized one similarity between all the crimes being committed in the past two days, Jeon?” Jungkook’s brows furrow and he shakes his head. “What is it?” “They’re all people who have done this before. They’re experienced criminals.” Criminals that have never been caught, that are responsible for dozens of cold cases. None of them are first-time offenders. From Kim Taehyung to Kim Namjoon, and the three others that were caught red-handed by other detectives. Even the Capital Bomber has set bombs before, albeit on a smaller scale. It’s clear — this isn’t the first time for any of them. The look on Jungkook’s face confirms Seokjin’s theory and tells him this new detail isn’t unfounded. “So I’ve been looking into the suspects of unsolved cases and older crimes. As for the poison monoxide case, no matter how many times I look at it, it appears like it’s done by one person. But for some reason, I can’t shake off the idea that it was done by two.” It’s just a hunch that keeps plaguing Seokjin’s head. A thought comes across Jungkook’s mind. In the past day, there’s two particular people that have come up twice now. “You don’t think….the carbon monoxide case has any connection to the phone booth duo, right?” “I don’t know,” the older detective admits honestly. There's no point in just sitting around speculating. He gets up and grabs his coat. “Well, we should take a quick visit to all the bombing suspects first and foremost. The other cases can wait for now.” There’s not enough to incriminate anyone or build a solid case, but it’s better than nothing.

[Sunday, 2:53pm] He feels a tap on his shoulder. A quiet call of his name. “Jimin.” It’s soothing, a comfort seldom found and one he has always yearned for, even as a child. So he savours it, the notes of his name spoken on gentle lips— “Jimin.” He can’t resist floating in the darkness. It’s too hard to open his eyes. To face reality. But then the shaking becomes insistent. “Jimin, wake up. Stop sleeping.” Taken out from his slumber, the world is fuzzy as he blearily blinks awake. The sunlight is blinding and his limbs ache, body folded to the side as he slept in the passenger seat of the car. You’re in the driver’s and you look at him with a blank expression. Jimin holds back a yawn and his voice is groggy when he asks, “What’s wrong?” “I have an idea.” That’s what you told him. And then, he was crossing the road in the seedy part of town by a strip. Face covered, hood up, hands dug into his pocket. “We only have a few more hours before the results are out.” The people behind the stand didn’t speak the same language as he did. They looked at him skeptically with his suspicious attire — even the children nearby were staring. But he still managed to purchase the fireworks. “We need to drag the lion out of its den.” You praised him when he got back into the car and Jimin had to admit to himself that it felt good. It feels good to listen to you, for you to look at him so proudly. He’s happy when you are. “So what are you planning?” “We’re going to frame Yoongi, of course.” The pair of you stopped by a gas station for a cardboard box and some duct tape — it felt like you two were making crafts in the car. But soon, he was gripping the package under his arm while walking up the stairs, brushing past the dozens of strangers during the rush. “Drop the package at the city center train station. Go as close to a crowd as you can.” He was here. The intercom making announcements was noisy over top the many conversations of students and families, businessmen and women getting back from late lunches. It becomes even more clamorous with the jingle signaling the train’s arrival, the whir of the doors opening. No one notices him. Not in the bustle. Jimin’s shoved roughly aside when he slows. There aren’t any apologies, no glances over the shoulders. It’s always like this — those who can’t keep up are pushed behind. “I don’t think I can do this, Y/N.” “Why not? We’re not harming anyone, silly. We just want to scare them.” Jimin takes a deep breath, steals a glimpse of the clock and slides the lighter from his pocket. He lights the end that sticks out of a hole in the corner. And once it catches the flame, he drops it and turns around. “Don’t you trust me?” He walks away, blending into the crowd with his hood up and his eyes covered. When he’s at the stairs, the explosion is deafening above the noise and the petrified screams echo behind him.

[Sunday, 4:23pm] “Maybe he decided to change it up,” someone says. Seokjin is hunched over the screen, watching the footage of the man dropping the box and then turning abruptly on his heel before disappearing. Moments later, the orange explosion takes up the entire screen. Three were left injured. Seokjin plays the clip again. “It’s too sloppily done,” he mutters, turning over his shoulder to glance at his partner. He knows that Jungkook agrees. But what’s even stranger is that the figure of the man is eerily similar to the fuzzy one at the phone booth. Seokjin wonders if this is a set up. If so, why? “You don’t think this is the Capital Bomber?” Hoseok asks. “It can’t be,” Jungkook speaks up to bolster Seokjin’s professional opinion. “Up until now, he used explosive bombs. This was five fireworks stuffed together and the package it was put in is completely different to what it usually is. No one needed to open it either.” “So you think there’s a copycat?” Detective Byun stands from his seat, sighing heavily. He drags a hand over his face, shoulders slumped and posture tense. “Maybe it was a failed package,” Captain Chou suggests, reading the room. A few others nod along. “Or maybe he decided to change his techniques.” “Why would he?” Jungkook’s voice pitches up in growing frustration, startling a few officers and the sergeant standing by him. They’re turning a blind eye to logic just because it’s easier that way. “This is someone who’s come up with sophisticated explosives that have killed tens of people! Why would he resort to using illegal fireworks?!” Captain Chou whips her head towards him. “Are you shouting at me, officer Jeon?” “Jungkook.” Seokjin squeezes at his shoulder and the younger shifts. Their eyes meet and Seokjin steps forward to redirect the attention back onto him. “I agree with him. There’s too many disparities for this to be the Capital Bomber. He wouldn’t have done something like this. It looks more like a poor attempt to pretend to be him.” “How will the people react when they find out there’re copycats now?” Detective Byun collapses in his seat. “And we haven’t even caught the real one yet.” It goes quiet around the room. The Chief of Police clears his throat. “Do you have solid evidence this is a copycat?” Hoseok is looking at both him and Jungkook. Seokjin’s jaw clenches when he knows where he’s getting at. The answer is ultimately— “No.” “Then it’s still entirely possible that this could be the work of the real Capital Bomber.” Anger flares in Jungkook’s eyes. “Sir.” Little can be said when someone knocks on the conference room doors and an assistant enters, whispering into Hoseok’s ear. Said man stands a moment later. “The press conference is starting. We’ll resume the meeting afterwards. Try your best to follow this lead.” When he leaves, everyone settles down. The murmur of conversations spark throughout the room in between fatigued sighs and Jungkook turns to Seokjin with irritation. “Detective Kim,” he unintentionally whines, like a child to a father. “This is obviously not him.” “I know you’re upset, but control yourself, Jeon.” His own anger is palpable, but knowing someone is on his side helps his sanity. “It won’t help our case if we can’t remain calm.” Suddenly, a woman bursts into the room. All heads turn and she hyperventilates, “S-Someone claiming to be the bomber is on a call with the dispatcher.” Chaos follows. “What?!” Seokjin rushes forward, his facade of composure amplified. “Can you put us through?” It takes seconds before the deep baritone is fuzzy over the speakers around the room. He’s shouting. “—wasn’t me!” “Sir, please stay calm. Where are you?” “Listen here.” The rumbling timbre is menacing, each syllable punctuated with animosity. “I want them to know that it wasn’t me. They’re saying it’s me.” The dispatcher on the line is amiable. “Who’s saying it’s you, sir?” “Everyone.” Heavy breaths pant. “It’s all over the news. But I would never do something so stupid to soil my message. Everything I have done up to this point has been crafted to perfection. It’s been masterpieces after masterpieces. But this….this is a distraction! How dare they try to copy my method—” “Trace the call,” Seokjin commands. “It’s already happening,” they inform.

[Sunday, 8:20pm] It took four hours — tracking, planning, putting it in action. And the efforts have paid off. Min Yoongi is caught, arrested, and charged. He was the Capital Bomber, the one who killed and maimed so many, who caused terror on the streets and panic through the people. Now, he’s safely behind bars and the whole department is celebrating. Seokjin can hear it through the walls. But it’s not right. There are too many missing puzzle pieces. Crucial fragments that aren’t part of the story. Until the last second of the interrogation, he denied any affiliation to the explosion of the train station and with every breath, he denounced such an act. Then who was it? And why now? Min Yoongi is a cautious criminal, an intellectual with a message of anti-capitalism to send to the world. He knows how to target the right people, how to make the media talk about him. But for him to contact the police directly from sheer fury, for his temper to flare beyond his rationale — whoever was behind the attack of the station played Min Yoongi. They knew that mimicking him so poorly would rile him up. They knew it would tarnish his message. And they knew that his message was the most important part of his actions. Yoongi would be scrambling to separate himself from stupidity. To clear his name. And he did. Whoever did this set him up. But Seokjin doesn’t know the reason for it. He doesn’t have even an inkling as to who it could actually be and why. It always feels like he’s three steps behind. Seokjin knocks on the door lightly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Hoseok is busy organizing his files, stacking them neatly into piles. When he looks up at the sound, he smiles meekly. “Shouldn’t you be out there celebrating with the rest of them?” “Shouldn’t you be?” Hoseok’s eyes crinkle. “Don’t tell the rest of them, but I was planning to sneak out of here within the next ten minutes. I haven’t gone home in two days and all I want is a shower and some shut eye.” “I won’t tell them,” Seokjin assures. “We all deserve some rest, especially after the last few nights. But god knows we’ll have to be here tomorrow at nine sharp.” The man smiles and grabs his coat. “You should take a vacation day, Jin. I know you have a ton of them saved up. I don’t want the department to force you to take leave.” In spite of their civil exterior, the air still hangs tense with the last argument that erupted right here. “But that’s no fun. What would I do at home?” “Always the workaholic,” Hoseok muses and the next words are full of implication— “You should take it easy.” His stare lasts a fraction longer than normal. And Seokjin knows his old friend long enough to recognize what he’s implying. But he’s not so willing to give in. “A break doesn’t actually sound so bad. When I’m back, I could look at the station bombing with fresh eyes.” The smiles fall, silence strained. “It’s over, Jin. The bomber’s been arrested.” “Not all of them.” Not the phone booth duo, not the carbon monoxide poisoning case. There are still a lot of crimes to be solved, questions to be answered. It isn’t time to be celebrating. “For all we know, he’s responsible for the station bombing.” “Then why does he keep denying it?” The detective steps forward. “He was happy to take credit for the rest of them. City hall, the charity event, the one on—” “Seokjin.” His entire name said firmly aloud. When their eyes meet, Seokjin is caught off guard — Hoseok’s is listless. Defeated. “I’m not going to have a job after this.” His voice catches in his throat and his brows furrow a moment later. “What do you mean?” The man looks at him without trying to impose his authority, without the professional demeanour that took years to craft. It’s human to human. Hoseok is frank with him. “Someone has to take the fall for how things turned out this weekend. For letting so many people die and failing to do our jobs. We might’ve caught him, but it was still too slow for them. You know how the media and the politicians are. My name is going to be dragged through the mud for how inefficiently the department ran.” “But why does it have to be you? We can fight this—” Hoseok shakes his head. “It’s useless.” “Why are you giving up?!” Anger surges through Seokjin but all Hoseok can do is muster a smile. “If I resign, I can still get a severance pay. Enough to last me a long time. It’s better than if any of you took the fall,” he says and quietness simmers throughout the private office. “We did the best job that we could, Seokjin. We caught him and a bunch others. We’ve done our part. They’re serial killers who will be locked behind bars forever. But this needs to end somewhere.” He continues— “Do you think whoever replaces me will let you continue this?” Not much is said after that. Not when Seokjin can’t gather any defenses or further arguments. Not when Hoseok takes his briefcase, exchanges a sad smile and flicks off the lights of his office to drown the walls in darkness. Seokjin slips out when he starts feeling suffocated. He leaves the office and escapes outside, in favour of leaning on the brick at the back of the precinct where there are rats scurrying by the dumpsters. He lights the cigarette he swiped from Baekhyun’s desk and brings it to his lips. Seokjin hasn’t smoked in years. He muses that a break does sound nice. The steel doors creak and Seokjin turns his head. He least expects to see the dark-haired young officer with doe eyes. “Detective Kim?” “Shouldn’t you be inside?” “I just wanted some fresh air.” The door swings shut while Seokjin taps the ash off of the cigarette bud. “You were having fun, weren’t you?” He manages a small smile. “Looked like that girl had some plans for you tonight. She works in the dispatch department, right? What’s her name again?” “Yoo Jeongyeon.” With the single incandescent light on the wall, the blush on Jungkook’s cheeks is visible. “She’s alright.” “There’s no policy against workplace romance, you know. You might hear it from the others, but all you have to do is take it up with HR.” Jungkook gives a disgruntled hum, not furthering the subject. Seokjin watches the smoke curl. “Actually, I wanted to come out here to tell you that I was looking into the list of suspects for the station bombing. I think I’ve narrowed it down, so—” “This is the best we could do, Jungkook,” Seokjin interrupts and sighs out a puff of smoke. He drops what’s left of the cigarette onto the ground and the toe of his shoe snubs it out. “Pardon?” “They’re not going to let us continue investigating the case, Jeon.” He turns to him. It's painful to see the disappointment on his face because Seokjin’s sure he has a mirror image on his. “They’re going to replace Jung Hoseok. And even if they didn’t, he wouldn’t let us continue. They want it to end.” They want to pretend that all the loose ends are wrapped up, that Min Yoongi was the last. Of course they would. It’s the picture perfect finale. The main criminal is caught after the string of others. No one wants to imagine that there’s more. “This is it?” “This is it.” “But what if they strike again?” Jungkook persists. “We’re just going to let them go free?!” “Then we’ll have to treat it like a whole separate incident and not part of this weekend massacre.” He opens his mouth — speechless, frustrated, disappointed. If there’s one thing Jungkook lacks, it’s experience. And with experience, he’ll come to know these emotions well. Being a part of the system doesn’t necessarily mean fighting crime and striving for justice. It’s much less righteous than that. The two of them stand side by side, watching dusk set into night as all the events in the past forty eight hours sink into their shoulders. It’s not until the older, worn detective speaks up that the silence is shattered. “What did you think about the phone booth duo?” There’s a beat and then Jungkook answers. “I was considering the theory you brought up.” “That they’re responsible for the monoxide poisoning case?” He nods. “And that maybe they were responsible for the station bombing too.” Seokjin’s brow quirk. The figure on the footage certainly resembled the fuzzy shape of the security camera. “So?” “None of the crimes are excessively violent. They’re unobtrusive and all the victims don’t have any connections to each other. It’s likely they didn’t plan who to kill but planned how they would do it.” The corner of Seokjin’s mouth curls while he watches as Jungkook’s eyes light up again, his mind at work. It’s relieving to know that the future has an intelligent boy in its midst. “The crime scene wasn’t messy. It was organized. Even Choi Soobin’s car was spotless and they were seen driving it on camera. Not to mention the house. It shows self-control.” “They were prepared,” Seokjin affirms. Jungkook nods. “And they used restraints. Whoever did it is competent. Likely to be above average intelligence and probably has some kind of education. They have to be healthy enough to carry a body to a car too.” He continues on his profiling, “They most likely alternated between walking and driving between each crime scene. They follow the news, taunt the police. They probably have nonsocial habits.” “Then what about the power dynamic of the duo? It was a male voice who gave the tip and the female voice who taunted us, remember? Do you think it was the male who did these acts and the female who’s the accomplice?” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t think so. That’s what I thought at the beginning, but then I listened to the recordings again and again, and for some reason, the male who gave the tip sounded...scared. While the female, it sounded like she was enjoying taunting us.” The older detective hums. It’s an interesting thought. Jungkook arrives at the end of his analysis. Having nothing left to say, he turns to his partner. “What do you think, Detective Kim?” Seokjin’s head knocks back on the wall as he considers the facts. But truth be told, he already has a theory of his own. “If the pattern still holds, then the phone booth duo are experienced criminals. They likely have some kind of history, some criminal background. They knew what they were doing.” Jungkook knows by the way he’s talking that he has an idea. “You were looking into the suspects of unsolved cases, right?” “I was.” “What did you find?” “L/N Y/N.” By the look on Jungkook’s face, it’s an unfamiliar name to him. “She was the only daughter of a cult leader. They were out in the middle of nowhere and called themselves the Seventh Sect. They murdered disobedient followers, women, children, the usual. She would’ve experienced emotional abuse as a child growing up in a place like that. She was educated though. Homeschooled. Got her GED.” Jungkook speculates, “So she’s likely to be socially competent.” “Probably on some level.” He pauses. “The entire cult was wiped out six years ago.” Jungkook turns his head and Seokjin can feel his stare piercing into his profile. “Most of them died by rat poisoning. The leader was ruled dead by suffocation and the others by carbon monoxide poisoning.” There’s a pattern that resembles the most recent cases and the realization makes Jungkook’s eyes widen. He’s sure now more than ever they have the person. “Funny enough, the only daughter of the cult leader disappeared. They couldn’t find her body. So they ruled her dead after a few months and that’s what everyone assumed.” Until now. “But maybe she isn’t.” It’s a theory, conjecture that would never be accepted by the general attorney or even the department. It’s circumstantial evidence at the end of the day. Yet deep down, Jungkook and Seokjin know what the truth is. It feels like they’ve solved the case together, albeit all in hypotheticals. “Then what about her accomplice?” Jungkook eagerly asks. “Do you know who he is?” “That’s where I have the most trouble,” Seokjin admits with a sigh. “All we know is that he’s about five foot eight, average physique, dark hair. Likely to be of Asian descent. And he most likely has self-control too.” “But I don't have any ideas on who he could be.” Seokjin looked hard enough that his eyes still sting and his brain throbs. All the people he considered fell through with one qualification or another. “I don’t know how much involvement he had. If he was strung along. Or if he orchestrated it.” “He probably orchestrated it,” Jungkook guesses, “It makes sense if Y/N was the one who did the killings, then it would make sense if he was the one who manipulated her and planned it all. He’s the mastermind. The one who came up with the idea for framing Min Yoongi, who wanted to leave the tip for Kim Namjoon, and who made Y/N taunt us. He used her like a puppet.” He hums. It’s all possible. “Maybe he’s someone from the Seventh Sect,” Jungkook offers. But Seokjin knows it’s all just hunches built on top of hunches. There’s no point in playing this game and naming potential criminals. There’s nothing they can do when they’re just standing at the back of the precinct as the rest of the department celebrates inside. It’s worthless when they’re unable to pursue their leads, follow through with their investigations. It’s merely another day of letting criminals go free. “Maybe.”

[Sunday 9:36pm] You’re about to be crowned the victor. Everything you’ve calculated played right into your hand and now all the efforts are going to be paid off. Jimin’s holding your hand as the two of you walk down the desolate road on the outskirts of town. The entrance to the underground area was just over the horizon. He would’ve driven instead of abandoning the car and walking, but you had convinced him the walk to victory is a lot better. Plus the weather was too nice to not take advantage of it and Jimin has to agree. The breeze is whisking against his cheeks, the sliver of the moonlight guiding your way, and he feels warm with you beside him. Especially with you happily humming. Jimin’s grown to quite like your voice. He could hear it forever if you’d let him. “After we win, I’ll treat you to whatever you want, Jiminnie. We can have all kinds of desserts if you want, how does that sound?” His cheeks are rounded with his grin. “Okay.” “Only okay?” You turn, pouting at him. “I’m giving you a gift here! Shouldn’t you show more appreciation?” He laughs. “Fine, I love it, alright?” You scoff playfully. “You make it sound like I’m forcing you.” Jimin grins to himself. The quietness away from the city is serene. He can’t hear the engines of cars or the noisy conversations of strangers — he doesn’t feel left behind. In this place, there’s only the hitch of your breaths, the synchronized footsteps, and every thought of his amplified to a thousand. “What are you planning to do afterwards, Y/N?” he asks after a moment. Jimin wonders if you’ll let him come with you. The pair of you could go to a place far away from here, where it’s just as quiet. Where he won’t have to worry. Where you both can leave all of this behind and no one could ever find him. It would be the perfect end. “I don’t know yet.” You spin to face him with another brilliant smile. “Maybe prepare.” He squeezes your hand. Forever with you sounds like all he wants. “For what?” “To play again next year, silly.” Jimin’s steps slow. The vision of going somewhere far away, of leaving it all behind, shatters just as quickly as it manifested itself inside his mind. The realization comes crashing down to him — there’s no end. “What?” “The games are annual, Jiminnie. Did you forget? I’m going to have to keep my title. If you follow me, I’ll even get you second place in no time!” There’s no end. “The two of us need to stick together.” There’s no end in sight. The past two days will repeat itself for the rest of his life. He’s stuck to you. Jimin halts on his heel and you turn your head with a frown. Your lips part as if you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but you’re interrupted by the roar of a car. Attention taken, your eyes light up as you squint past the head beams piercing through the darkness coming closer and closer. “Look! I don’t think they’re a part of the games. How about we go for one more, Jiminnie?” Before he can say a word, you’ve left him behind — flagging down the vehicle, standing in the middle of the road. And the car screeches to a stop. It’s a young woman sitting in the driver seat alone. She looks at you and Jimin, but it’s hard to see him when he’s standing in the dark. The stranger rolls down the window as you round the car. “Are you alright? Do you need a lift?” He hears the stranger ask, oblivious to how her compassion is a demise. “No, it’s alright. My husband and I have a farm right around here. We were just taking a walk.” Before she can express her bewilderment, you beat her to the punch. “I just wanted to tell you that I think you have a flat tire.” “Oh my god! Really?!” Jimin flinches when he hears the seat belt come off. He looks up to see her get out of her car. “It’s over here,” you indicate. Then he hears a thump, a cry, a snicker. Jimin rounds the vehicle to see the young woman on the floor, her head bleeding as you grasp the pen from your pocket in your left hand. You stab her crown again with it, digging the tip into the skin and bone. The stranger shrieks in agony. “Y/N.” “N-no, p-pl-please.” The stranger is crawling away, fingernails scratching the asphalt. “Pl-please. I’m….sorr...y.” “Put on your blindfold, pet.” You smile at him and when he remains motionless, feet rooted into the roadside, you close the distance in three strides. You reach into his hoodie pocket for the strip of black cloth. All he sees is your smile before you’ve covered his eyes, tied the blindfold around with a bow at the back. “I’ll tell you when you can look.” Jimin hears the crunch of the pebbles as you walk away. This will never end. He hears the woman’s cries become panicked, breaths quick in hyperventilation. This will never end. He hears her screech and it reverberates in his eardrums. “P-Please!” This will never end. It will never be enough for you. He will never be enough for you. “S-Stop….s-som..eone!” Jimin’s hands reach up. He tugs down his blindfold. It flutters into his palm. It’s so easy — he barely had to graze it. Jimin takes one step towards your bent backside and as he does so, he reaches down, taking the jagged rock on the side of the road. It fits into his hand perfectly. He takes another stride and holds his breath. In the heat of the moment, Jimin swings his arm. The rock slams against the side of your head. You fall to the ground, gripping the wound, the in-between of your fingertips holding blood. “J-Jimin?” you whimper, eyes enlarged. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jimin never once looks away. He keeps his pupils trained on you, eyes bulged, not wasting a blink. While you’re still down, he gets on top of you, pinning your body to the concrete. He swings back again as you cry his name. “—imin.” He will never be enough for you. Why? Why?! After all he’s done! The blood splatters onto his cheek, his expression impassive as you sob. He remembers. The crimson coated floorboards, splattered on the yellow paisley wallpaper, on the popcorn ceiling of the living room. “Ji—…” The knocked over chairs, the picture frames thrown, the stench of iron in the two bedroom house heavy, the warmth of the blood. The same warmth he feels now sticking to his skin. He had no control of himself then. He was so angry. It was the heat of the moment. His mother spat on him for not giving her his money to buy her cigarettes, his father threatened to divorce her again and his younger brother stood by and just cried. They always liked him more than they liked him. Maybe that’s why Jimin dismembered his arms. Jimin might’ve blacked out then, he might’ve regretted when he came to his senses, but you were right. It wasn’t just an accident. And he most certainly has control of himself now. “J..i..m..in.” You’ve wrapped your hand around his wrist, but there isn’t any strength left of you. Jimin’s deranged when he swings. The image of running away with you cracks. He swings again. The vision of the peaceful and quiet life with you he’s yearned for splinters. He swings once more and there are no more calls of his name. The dream he had of you bursts. He’s maddened. Overwhelmed in the shade of crimson. You would never fulfill his delusion or even try to. And he would’ve been trapped, stuck by your side or become your enemy, forced to relieve this fearful nightmare over and over again. Your skull is cracked, eyes rolled to the back of your head, the whites of your eyes red. Streams of tears stain both sides of your cheeks. But Jimin never once looks away. Not until you’ve taken your last breath. Then, he’s finally free. Jimin tosses the rock dented by your head aside. He looks off at the distance where your last victim is still alive, slowly crawling away by her fingernails without ever glancing back. She’s still breathing to see the next day. He turns away from her, stumbling into the head beams of the car. His shadow is casted on the ground until it fades away. Jimin leaves behind the only person who would ever understand and accept him. The person he would never be enough for. … He knocks twice. The door slot slides open. Beady eyes look through. Jimin mutters the password and the door opens a moment later. The man standing by doesn’t comment even when he’s dripping in your blood. It’s a blur, the music playing, the bustle of the after-party, the way the others ironically move out of the way as if they’ve never seen blood before. Jimin’s no longer pushed aside. He wishes he could kill everyone here. Soon it all stops. The lights dim in favour of a shimmering spotlight on stage. He feels the person’s eyes on him with everyone else's, hears the clearing of a throat, listens to the useless congratulations and acknowledgment of efforts. Then, the announcement is made. It doesn’t make any sense. Yet, Jimin finds himself climbing the stairs, standing right on stage in the spotlight, being awarded some heavy metal like he just saved someone’s life. He looks into the eyes of the representative and exhales, “I killed Y/N.” “Yes, you did.” He says it like it's some kind of honour. “And for that, you took on all her kills.” “Isn’t it against the rules?” Jimin deadpans. It’s strange — he can’t really feel anything anymore. “Since when did serial killers follow rules?” the stranger jests. “Plus, isn’t it more interesting this way?” “Congratulations!” He turns towards the faceless audience a beat later. “The winner of the first annual Weekend Massacre is Park Jimin!”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin scenario #this idea's been sitting in my files since 2017 #just never had the balls to write it lol #but I've always wanted to write a Hunger Games esque kind of thing and decided to combine it with serial killers #anyway I didn't want to romanticize killing in any way so I tried not to hold back.

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contrabandhothead · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I saw your post about requests! :) could I get some BOB head cannons of what it’s like to date them while also being is easy company? :)

I’m so so SO sorry this took so long, and I hope you like it 🤞🏻also, I couldn’t do all of them because school has been keeping me very busy. If you want to send another request, and i’ll do more for you when I have time 💕 Enjoy!

Dick Winters

generally very private about his relationship

mom and dad™ of easy co.

i want to say that he puts you on his team during missions, but i feel like he thinks it’s unprofessional

so he probably puts you on a team with someone he trusts and that he knows won’t take unnecessary risks *cough cough* Speirs *cough cough*

doesn’t mean he doesn’t get worried though

give this man a massage please, he’s stressed af

you’d never want to jeopardize his position though, so you’re generally okay with it

however, sometimes you get a little lonely

Dick notices this and tries to clear out a slot in his schedule in order to spend some quality time with you

treats you like any of the other men, except when you’re alone

king of stolen kisses behind crumbling walls before a battle

very healthy relationship overall 12/10 would be an amazing father

secretly wants to get married when the war is over

i’m not saying he definitely proposed on V-E Day but he definitely did it

cries at the wedding, especially since it’s been so long since he’s seen you all dolled up because of the war

also cries because he’s finally getting to marry the love of his life

drunkenly told Nix at his bachelor party about how amazing you would look at your wedding and then went on and on about the specific shade of your eyes

S I M P

Nix never lets him forget it

Lewis Nixon

this man

let’s be for real here

he has NO idea how to display affection at all, especially because of his past

so he does what any rich boy would do

showers you in gifts that you don’t need

it’s not that you’re ungrateful for them, you just wish he would understand that you don’t love him for his money

i feel like everyone forgets that he’s lowkey rich

can’t relate Nix

he will buy you anything he sees you look at for more than a second

always has them delivered by some random Private

the men tease you RELENTLESSLY for it

“hey Y/N, what did that overflowing wallet buy you this week?”

“Shut up Tab”

is always worried about you

especially since he usually isn’t on the battlefield since he moved to staff

you’re fine

you can definitely handle yourself after Sobel’s training what a fucking dick

takes you out on small simple dates when you guys actually have weekend passes

the guys always help you get ready for your dates (they see you as a little sister it’s really cute)

Ron Speirs

this man

oh wow

the flavor

never really got to see you until Dog Co. was basically absorbed by Easy Co.

definitely thinks he’s not good enough for you

when you first introduced the Easy Co. men to him, they thought the exact same thing (they changed their minds after a while though)

REASSURE THIS MAN. EVERY. STINKIN. DAY. THAT HE IS GOOD ENOUGH.

P L E A S E

secretly is a cuddle monster

will 100% sneak into your foxhole to cuddle and will slit anyone’s throat that mentions it

this man has arms and legs like an octopus when it comes to cuddling

will pull you back into his arms even if you need to use the bathroom and will not be letting go

steals you pretty things for absolutely no reason (Ron, no)

the man is like a freakin magpie

the men of Easy Co. grow to like him more when they realize how happy he makes you and how he doesn’t hurt you

he actually values their opinion on your relationship a lot

he knows Easy is like family and you’re like the younger sister

doesn’t show it though

pushes you away when he feels insecure

jealous™

surprisingly domestic

Carwood Lipton

wholesome but to the max™

you’re both so in love i feel like i’m going to throw up rainbows

signed up for the paratroopers together

i feel like Carwood is the type of person to marry his high school sweetheart

so yeah, you guys are that™ couple

best aunt and uncle of easy co.

Lip worries about you just a littleee more than the other men

he’s just a worry wart in general

almost threw hands with Sobel once when Sobel insulted you

he will not stand for anyone insulting his gal

isn’t as private as Dick is with his relationship, but is known to hide it from superior officers other than Nix and Winters

aka Sobel

was 100% willing to get kicked out of the infantry to defend you from Sobel

thinks a lot about how good of a mom you’d be, especially when he sees you caring for the men

is also a cuddler, though not nearly as clingy as Ron

just a loose arm to tuck you into his side, especially during Bastogne

prefers having you on his team, not only because he cares about you, but also because he admires your skill and accuracy

you’re a damn good shot, and he’d scream it from a mountain for all to hear

so proud of his gal

George Luz

you’re either the jokester and the stoic couple, the shy kid and the jokester couple, or the jokester and the jokester couple

there’s no in between

cracks terrible jokes just to see you smile

still tries pick up lines even AFTER you two are dating (even the guys shake their heads)

you two are the entertainment for easy co. let me tell you

you’re also the only person that can get George to shut up

you must thank him in kisses he takes no other currency

clingy baby™

it’s like dating a 12 year old boy sometimes

he can be so immature but it’s kind of endearing at times

everyone is immediately accepting of your relationship because it just makes sense and you’re both good for each other

wants a hug and a kiss even if you’re just leaving the dining hall to go to the bathroom

just give the man what he wants or he’ll pout all day until you kiss his cheek

you guys once had a match of how long you could ignore each other once

he was surprisingly dedicated

but he broke

he snapped like a twig after everyone went to sleep

he dived into your foxhole and begged you to talk to him

he kept snuggling closer to you until you talked to him again

Joe Toye

rough on the outside, soft on the inside

brings you flowers when he asks you out (surprisingly very traditional and respectful when he asks you out)

everyone has a good time when Toye is with you, he loosens up a lot more

loves when you pet his hair and he can just stare up at the stars while laying in your lap

he’s just as bad as Speirs when it comes to cuddling

a cuddle bug but won’t admit it

actually might be worse than Speirs when it comes to cuddling because he can actually sneak into your bunk while you’re sleeping

also wants to fight Sobel when Sobel insults you and actually almost threw hands

he almost got court martialed and was 2 steps away from getting up in Sobel’s face before Guarnere and Luz stopped him

hands down the dumbest thing he has ever done

you were so mad at him for it

you didn’t talk to him for a week

you felt bad because he was always giving you those puppy dog eyes from across the dining hall

Joe gets teased by the guys for being sweet on you

“at least I got a broad! the rest of ya’ can’t really say that much.”

will not hesitate to let you win during arm wrestling

he’s not allowed to arm wrestle with you anymore because the guys know he’s just letting you win

you’re his #1 fan during arm wrestling

look at those arms tho

Joe Liebgott

y’all thought Toye was soft

OH BOY

the way Joe acts around you is definitely bullying material for the other guys

Lieb drinks respect women juice

thinks you’re so cool

would probably walk up to random people and be like “that’s her. she’s my girlfriend. can you believe how lucky i am?”

thinks it’s so cute when you show off your brand new jump wings to him

you just looked so excited

he wasn’t even staring at the wings when you started rambling about how happy you were, he was just making this stupid in love face

definitely grabbed your face and kissed you hard after that

he wants SO many kids????

ya know those lists that lots of girls have on their phones and it’s just a bunch of future baby names??? that’s Joe

this man has 8 names

4 girls names and 4 boy names

he plans to use every name

just wants to live the domestic life with you after the war

will freeze his ass off and take your watch just so you can get some extra sleep

another cuddle monster (they’re multiplying)

whispers really cute things in german to you until you fall asleep

has also almost fought Sobel for shit he said to you

David Webster

you help him fit in more with the other guys

please teach him the art of socializing

yes, the men have stolen his journal to read all his terrible poetry about you

still gets shit for it to this day

shares his chocolate bar with you

longing stares but from across the room

doesn’t actually take you out until the war is over because he wants to do it right dammit

has little to absolutely no relationship experience

please teach him

or better yet, struggle with him and get made fun of by all the guys

they actually accept Web more now that he’s with you

cuz Easy Co. loves you

sends letters all the time when he’s sent to the hospital

everyone teases him that he acts like he’s more likely married to Liebgott than to you

you’re the only reason the men will stop teasing him

definitely more badass then him

you radiate boss energy and that’s what easy co. likes about you

especially Web

everyone’s like “that’s my girl!”

and he just smiles in the corner with the rest of them

Bill Guarnere

DID I SAY SOFT???

S O F T

weak for his girl

arm wrestles just to get your attention (flexes all the time for pete’s sake)

also wants like a gazillion children and talks about it constantly with Liebgott

this man wants an army of little Italian kids

no one makes fun of you or Guarnere for his actions to get your attention because they don’t want his fist in their face

people who have almost punched Sobel for making fun of their girl: let’s add Guarnere to the list

you didn’t ignore him, you just told him off for being an idiot

if i could describe it, he sulked like a puppy that got told no more treats

so proud of you when you get your jump wings

probably makes a toast about it at the celebration

he was so drunk but it was so cute

literally will do anything for your attention

chugging three bottles of whiskey so Y/N will pay attention to me??? pass the bottle bitch

not a massive cuddle monster but enjoys PDA and the occassional ass slap

probably has slapped your ass in front of company before

this boy has no morals smh

don’t worry, you get him back though

Frank Perconte

worry wart but multiply it by 1000x

is always bothering you to brush your teeth

not because he’s scared your breath stinks, but because he cares about you and your oral hygiene

now gets bullied about oral hygiene and his relationship with you

ft Skip. “oh Y/N, take me away my princess. did you brush your little pearly teeth??? i would never want your perfect smile to be ruined.”

Skip has been chased multiple times around Toccoa for this behavior

will fight anyone that thinks you’re not a good shot

is amazed how good you are at darts (knows you’re better than Buck)

does share a foxhole with you

is NOT part of the monster cuddler club because he knows when to stop

has not arm wrestled for your attention but will if so needed

always needs attention

whiny 12 year old boy P.2

sometimes it’s like you’re dating Luz as well

Luz has purposefully third wheeled before

yes, you heard me

ON PURPOSE

likes spontaneous dates

would fight Sobel for you but isn’t stupid enough to almost do it

Buck Compton

realized he had heart eyes for you before his old girl broke it off with him

WAS RELIEVED WHEN SHE SAID SHE WAS DONE WITH HIM IN BASTOGNE

the other Easy men were like “dude, what the hell are you waiting for. GO GET YOUR GIRL!”

let’s you win at darts

is also stupid and needy enough to arm wrestle for your attention

actually wins though

wants you to kiss his guns (absolutely not sir)

jealous and protective

jealous af around Winters

gets teased a lot about it by the other men

but they can see why he’s insecure about it, Winter’s could sweep any girl he wanted to off her feet

indeed a cuddle monster

will only share a foxhole with you in Bastogne

no one else

radiator of heat and thus a good cuddler though

will only let you make fun of him without repercussions

wants you to move in as soon as the war is over

always demands to be in your unit during an attack

will keep you safe at all costs (and one of the reasons why he got shot in the ass again)

Floyd Talbert

THE ABSOLUTE SWEETEST BABY

people use to bully Tab for his condom shipments

now they bully him for the way he acts around you

tough guy??? no. absolute stick of melted butter when around you

thinks you’re a saint

so does the rest of Easy though, so I guess it doesn’t matter

they had everyone from Easy give him a pep talk just to ask you out (Trigger even barked at him)

he was actually worried you would reject him

no one will ever reject that man lol it doesn’t make sense

not necessarily a cuddle monster

DEFINITELY A PDA MONSTER THOUGH

likes when you sit on his lap

can’t explain it, it just makes sense

will also arm wrestle for your attention

will honestly do anything for you

you need me to bring you Jupiter in a jar???

sure babe I’ll be right back

has specific pet names for you

his favorites are buttercup, angel, and beautiful

Babe Heffron

P U R E

does not get bullied for being in a relationship with you because everyone loves him

not a single person in this company, including you, would hesitate to sacrifice their life for that replacement

whines a lot to you when you don’t give him attention

will arm wrestle for your attention and loses

has not had the chance to fight Sobel before but I feel like he could if he wanted to

will tear Dike to shreads if he even mutter one hateful word against you

cuddle monster #2323293

enjoys being the little spoon and the big spoon while in the foxhole

shares his food with you during meals

will not hesitate to get shot in the ass for you

also will not hesitate to get shot for you in general

is like an angry 6 year old baby when you don’t pay attention to him

is known to give the silent treatment when you’re too busy to talk to him for days

MAKE TIME FOR HIM DO IT NOW

wants you to meet his Ma in Philly after the war

has many hopeful dreams that include you after the war

will only share chocolate with you and Gene

give him a hug, even when he says he doesn’t need it

Eugene Roe

HOLY SWEET JESUS

FIRST OFF

NO ONE IN THEIR GODDAMN RIGHT MIND WOULD EVER MAKE FUN OF YOU, ESPECIALLY AROUND DOC

this man has so many pet names

he is not afraid to use them on the battlefield, especially if you’re bleeding out because he’ll know you’ll answer to them

“darlin’, mon amour, ma mie, ma belle, ma chérie”

please stop Gene, it’s embarassing but also like don’t stop

get us a defibrillator his heart stopped while he was looking at you and we need to do CPR NOW-

thinks you’re the most beautiful girl ever

is not dumb enough to arm wrestle for your attention

he just makes this grumpy or upset face and you catch on quickly

he’s also not dumb enough to fight Sobel

BUT HE WILL FIGHT ANY SOLDIER WITH THE AUDACITY TO INSULT YOU

is always worrying about you

especially in Bastogne

always jumping into your foxhole to check for any wounds

probably lost his sizzuhs that way

always has extra bandages just for you

treats you with tender care

Donald Malarkey

THE CUTEST COUPLE EVER

NOT EVEN SKIP HAS THE HEART TO MAKE FUN OF YOU

is not dumb enough to fight Sobel for you

doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to punch him though

is dumb enough to arm wrestle for your attention

it lowkey depends on the day though

i mean

he doesn’t need to arm wrestle for you to admire his arms

like, have you seen that gif of him taking of his shirt???

loves cuddles in your foxhole but is not a cuddle monster

he’s a big baby when he gets tired

loves it when you take care of him

has definitely fallen asleep once on your shoulder during watch

would run up Currahee with full gear 3 times just to see you smile

he needs a hug. give him one now.

likes to rest his chin on your head

also wants you to move in (and maybe get married) after the war

treats you kindly, but he’s still a sarcastic little shit

kiss his muscles

that was literally so long i can’t believe i finished

#dick winters #lewis nixon #ronald speirs #ron speirs #carwood lipton #george luz #frank perconte #joe toye #joe liebgott #david webster #bill guarnere #buck compton #floyd talbert #babe heffron #eugene roe #donald malarkey #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcanon

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yurimother · 6 years ago

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Top Yuri Anime Poll Results

Whether it is subtext or explicit, cute or sexy, school love or gay action thrillers I love yuri anime. These series either focus on or contain elements of female same-sex relationships. Pride month is the perfect time to look back and reflect on the best of this genre. I teamed up with OG Man of The Yuri Nation (yurination[dot] wordpress[dot] com/) and together we put out a poll asking what you thought the top yuri anime series were and over 1000 of you responded submitting almost 5000 different entries. We spent hours combing through the data, analyzing and commenting on the results and we would like to share our thoughts with all of you. Enjoy the reflections of me the yuri critic and OG the dedicated yuri fan!

These are the Top 20 Yuri Anime as voted by you

1. Bloom Into You - 692 Votes

OG: Be it East or West the YagaKimi took the world by storm. Citrus and BiY once again taking the top two spots remains unsurprising.There is something undeniably fascinating about our leading ladies consisting of an asexual slowly coming to love her senpai back but restraining herself for various reasons. The biggest one being said senpai having a deep case of self-loathing and a fear of romantic reciprocation, also for various reasons. She is like “I love you but please do not love me back”. Then there is one of the most popular “cursed” lesbians of all time in Sayaka, the fantastic adult side-couple (The world needs an anime starring lesbian adults/mothers) and the various other characters who have their own interesting tales to tell. The series absolutely deserves a spot in the Top 10 though it would not be in my personal Top 3. Oh and as Yurimother said the presentation was fantastic.Visually stunning from start to finish in my opinion. Special mention goes to the criminally underused first-person “camera”. So cool.

YuriMother: I agree with this series deserving a spot in the top ten even if not the number one slot. For me, it was good but not great. Moments such as the aforementioned adult couple as well as stellar art and a phenomenal score made this series enjoyable but they were not enough to overshine the problems of the narrative. For the love of the Yuri Goddess, this series is crying out for asexual representation but insists on carrying on with its confused romance. Enough complaining though, many people love Bloom Into You despite its faults and I agree. The characters are interesting and lovable and it manages to tell a yuri story more real and complex than the typical fluffy girl meets girl narratives.

2. Citrus - 452 Votes

YuriMother: The presence of Citrus and Bloom Into You prove two things to me, the importance of recency, as both anime aired only last year, and the sheer popularity of these series. Both had established and extremely successful manga runs which were adapted into English by the publishing masters of yuri, Seven Seas. Citrus is a contentious series, to say the least, as it includes elements of (non-blood related) incest and non-consensual actions as part of Mei and Yuzu’s “relationship.” However, if you possess the magical power to turn off the part of your brain screaming at you that those aspects are deeply problematic or if you seek a different interpretation then Citrus can be downright WONDERFUL. I actually loved this anime series for its characters, amazing animation, and salaciousness. As OG said, it is an operatic concussion of emotion (seriously everyone in the series needs therapy) but my is it fun to watch. The Citrus anime also holds a special place in my heart, as the first serious piece I ever wrote was a review for it over on Okazu (nice plug)! Citrus is certainly not for everyone but those that stuck with it and overlooked some of the problems ended up loving it.

OG: Here we are again with Citrus at #2. My thoughts on the series remains the same as in the previous two lists I discussed (the Akiba Research and goo Ranking Japan lists), overrated. Good soap opera/telenovela-esque series but my feelings on the cast are mixed (which I imagine was the writer’s intent). My main issue has always been the obstacles repeatedly challenging Yuzu and Mei’s feelings for each other instead of it focusing on “Hey. We like each other but our parents got married. What do we do? Can we keep our desires for each other in check?”. Instead it is one newcomer after another who want to eat either Yuzu or Mei and Yuzu repeatedly asking herself if she really wants robo-stepsister patties? I will give the anime adaptation credit. The story was easier to enjoy animated than drawn. It also helped that I grew up in a telenovela loving family. The characters’ actions, reactions and emotions were depicted better in the anime. I still consider the show’s greatest accomplishment being the humanization of Mei-Tron. In the manga it took a post-epilogue continuation to show readers “Hey everyone. Mei-Tron was human all along.” whereas in the anime I sensed the small bit of humanity quicker than in the manga where I continued seeing her as a block of wood with a brain up to the point where I dropped it. Harumin though is the greatest regardless of anime or manga adaptation. Bless her. Regardless of how I feel about the series I get its massive popularity. After all, were the rest of the story to get an animated continuation I would gladly pick it up...Not the manga though.

3. Sakura Trick - 342 Votes

OG: There are fans who understandably would disagree with Sakura Trick’s praise but I will always defend it and the anime as one of the very best in the genre. First off it aired at a time where animated on-screen close up kisses (specifically consensual ones) between ladies were rare. Haruka X Yuu’s relationship was believable for the most part. Even their season finale resolution, them not getting what being “in love” meant at the time, made sense though I get why it left some scratching their heads. Probably not the best “manga lure/bait” end I suppose. On the bright side Kotone X Shizuku’s story definitely did not have the two doubting their true feelings for each other. I do hope Kaede X Yuzu eventually hooked up in the manga as they too had potential to be a lovely couple.

YuriMother: Sakura Trick has no real narrative, no great insight, and offers little intellectually. As a teacher, it makes me furious, as a fan of yuri, elated. The anime is beloved for its plentiful soft service, presenting a plethora of kisses, cuddles, and awkward thigh shots (ew). However, it was one of the first anime to include this much explicit yuri service without being pornographic. All the characters were cute and fun, even if there was little in the way of development or complexity, it worked for the series. If you want something to make you think or to learn about yuri, pass over this one. But, if you want a cute and meaningless anime definitely watch it.

4. Yuru Yuri - 337 Votes

YuriMother: OG may not be a fan of Yuru Yuri but I certainly am, which is fairly obvious to anyone who observes that a solid 20% of my communications occur in the form of gifs from this series. It is hilarious, cute, and playful. Just like Sakura Trick, this anime is an easy watch with ultimately little substance. However, the part of me that is not rolling of the floor laughing every time I watch Yuru Yuri lives in a state of pained existence with the knowledge that this work of all things ended up being so popular when people are telling interesting stories about queer women and people in actual relationship that manage to still be funny and adorable while having something to say.

OG: The undisputed most mainstream friendly yuri series there is. It is also one of the funniest. My one gripe is that excluding a select few the main draw of the show besides the comedy and yuri is the ship wars, meaning (almost any girl can be shipped with each other). Not a fan of that but hey, it brought Namori the big bucks so who am I to judge? In any case not much else to add. It deserves all the adulation it gets but the free for all shipping irks me. Reminds me of how they botched Chika X Riko in the Love Live! Sunshine!! Anime. If you were going down the Riko X Yohane route from the start then why give us Chika X Riko in the first half? Ship wars yo. Tch. Hopefully I properly explained myself..

5. Kase-san and Morning Glories (Asagao to Kase-san) - 289 Votes

OG: Still wish this got a 12-13 episode anime. The glorious movie showed how much it deserves one. Whether it will happen or not remains to be seen. In any case the beauty of Kase-san X Yamada is how simple their romance is. No strings attached whatsoever. It is as straightforward as a self-proclaimed “ordinary” cutie, Yamada, having a crush on the super cool school beauty Kase-san. Said beauty is revealed to be just as “adorkable” as Yamada. The other highlight is their story not ending once they officially started dating (as is the case with many romance stories) but that being only the beginning, like real life. From then on, side-stories aside, the two biggest challenges for the two is Yamada accepting that it is okay for someone as “ordinary” as her to be the “cool babe”s girlfriend and Kase-san finding different ways to express her love/hunger for the cutie. As for the OVA, cramming the second part of the first series in an hour definitely had the downside of excluding some important moments, yes, but it at least covered some of the best moments in the manga. The first half of the story was summarized in a five-minute music video. One last thing. The animation, though a bit too brought for some, was glorious. It also had some long pauses which were effective (The bus stop scene being the most infamous) but while I did not mind them at all even I will admit some pauses went a bit too long. A small nitpick all things considered. Fingers crossed one day we either get that 12-13 episode anime for the first series, the sequel or both. That is one of my dreams.

YuriMother: At last, an anime that I do not have to react cynically to! Kase-san is one of the single greatest works of yuri animation to ever to be created and its glory is rivaled only by the manga from which it originated. Despite being only a one hour long OVA this adaption told such an engaging and realistic (finally) story of romance and personal growth. We get to skip the meatless girl meets girls arcs and get into the depth and complexity as Yamada and Kase work to further their relationship. They struggle with the fact that they are two different people who want different things out of life and love and have to actually work on their partnership. Kase-san also includes signs of physical affection and love that are never lewd, immature, or gross, I do not even think I could refer to them as “service”. However, for me, Kase-san’s greatest victory (both the anime and manga) is in its escape from school romance, which in this genre is often a shelter from reality, allowing for women to be in relationships without actually being queer. Kase and Yamada instead make an effort to continue their romance and build a life that includes their relationship once they graduate in a triumphant final act. This anime is a slap in the face to the class S stories and sloppily sexualized works which proliferate the yuri genre. Asagao to Kase-san shines as a holy beacon for the greatness that this genre can achieve.

6. Puella Magi Madoka Magica - 286 Votes

YuriMother: Hurray!! For two entries in a row, I get to talk about series that I wholeheartedly adore without having to constantly attach caveats. Puella Magi Madoka Magica is not considered by all to be yuri, and that is certainly not what it is best known for. PMMM is however famous for twisting the tropes of the magical girl genre and creating one of the most cohesive and thoughtful narratives ever put to screen. This series summoned a new era for the magical girl genre (what OG humorously referred to as the “Moepocalypse”) but no other title managed to top Madoka Magica’s runaway success. Every aspect of this work is highly polished including character designs, a phenomenal soundtrack, and superb writing. This is not only the definitive work of its genre but of all postmodern anime. Whether or not one is a fan of yuri every anime fan should give Madoka Magica a watch.

OG: Meduka Meguca. Its impact in the “Moepocalypse” (Shows where cute and sexy girls consistently suffering physically and emotionally. These are usually dark magical girl shows.) genre and legacy are undeniable. It deserves all the praise it gets. It scarred many unfortunate souls, Homura is a legend in yuridom, Kyouko X Sayaka are glorious (Especially in Rebellion), Meduka’s Mom Junko is a Top Tier Sexy Mama, Charlotte the Witch is a very strange girlfriend and of course Hitomi is a walking anti-fun meme. The animation, especially the creepy doodle like monsters known as Witches are memorable. However, it is not my favorite Moepocalypse show. That honor goes to Yuki Yuna is a Hero.

7. Strawberry Panic - 224 Votes

OG: Like it or not Strawberry Panic is a yuri classic. I have a strong feeling that like many readers around my age (31 during this writing) this was their first 100% yuri anime. The cheese is real but it is the yummy kind of cheese and I loved almost every minute of it, except Amane X Hikari. That was the weakest of the love stories going on. Poor Yaya trying too hard (Not saying this in condescending way. She literally tried too hard). It is like a young adult lesbian novel but more fun. I mean Nagisa X Shizuma might as well be “Lesbian Twilight but not crappy”. Let us be honest, Shizuma is a vampire. Chikaru is an undisputed goddess and Kagome is the cutest.

Oh and I will repeat this statement till my last breath…

#TamaoWasRobbed.

YuriMother: I may be almost a decade younger than OG but even for me Strawberry Panic was my first yuri and it more than earns its nickname as the “gateway yuri,” although last year’s Citrus and Bloom Into You may be presenting serious contenders for this title. If for no other reason than nostalgia, Strawberry Panic remains my favorite yuri works but this ridiculous soap-opera of an anime does deserve a fair amount of recognition. I see Strawberry Panic as the culmination of the S subgenre revived by Maria Watches Over Us. However, this work succeeds at both parodying many of the tropes of S and yuri while breaking a few. However, its greatest accomplishment is introducing many of the young western fans of yuri to the genre. Strawberry Panic, you are an overly dramatic mess but thank you for all you have done.

8. Revolutionary Girl Utena - 176 Votes

YuriMother: Another gem of the yuri genre, actually scratch that, if works like Kase-san are gems then Utena is the minerals from which gems form. I think that is how it works, I am not a geologist. My poor analogies and subtle nods to Steven Universe aside, Revolutionary Girl Utena is one of the single most important works of yuri anime, possibly even more so than Sailor Moon. These two works were the dawn of the current age of yuri, an era spurn on by social progress and the internet into a place where more yuri works featuring honest depictions of homosexuality are flourishing. Utena laid the groundwork for queer representation in anime and for that I remain forever grateful to this masterpiece.

OG: I must confess. While I saw the movie long ago and thought it was cool I have yet to sit down and finish watching the main series. I cannot say much about this show other than it is another yuri classic. Possibly one of the biggest. I think I will leave this to Her Holiness because even if I had seen it I do not consider myself someone who possesses the sufficient intellect to properly explain why this is a legendary show.

9. Flip Flappers - 132 Votes

OG: I would need an essay to explain why this show is legendary. Let me see. It is a story of a girl who discovered her gayness thanks to her growing attraction to a lovable idiot/genki. There are references to Western media, dimension hopping (including Class S Hell), self-discovery, a sexual orientation journey, a tree, armored wedding gowns, crazy third wheels, Ku Klux Klan stand-ins…You know what? Just watch Flip Flappers. It is a hot mess of random, crazy, creative and thought provoking awesomeness with a wonderful dose of gayness. Glory be to PapiCoco. However, as Her Holiness mentioned this is essentially Ikuhara-san levels of weirdness (though not as complicated I feel) but as the plot thickens it all (sort of) starts making sense...eventually. That tree yo.

YuriMother: Flip Flappers was almost too strange and abstract even for me, and that is saying something. However, upon further examination, one of the most interesting works of yuri is revealed. This heavily stylized anime delves deep into the sexual maturation of its protagonist while examining the yuri genre and representation in media. Flip Flappers is the perfect marriage of heavy visual style and intellectual substance. Definitely give them one a.. err better make that three watches, as you will want to be sure to get everything out of this beautiful series as possible.

10. Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid - 131 Votes

YuriMother: This series is the closest anime fans have to a lesbian couple having a family that we have, and that is a shame. I LOVE family narratives, outside of the yuri genre Usagi Drop is my favorite anime. To me, seeing women balance life, a relationship, and children is some of the best queer representation there is. However, for every point in Kobayashi’s favor, there is also a glaring fault. Kobayashi is a modern woman in the workforce providing for herself and her “family,” but is borderline abusive to Tohru. Kanna is an inquisitive child being raising by two women, but there are weirdly sexual scenes featuring her. As previously mentioned on this list, if one can silence the reasonable part of the brain this work becomes enjoyable, hilarious, and adorable. Unfortunately, its faults prevent it from being more than an amusement and I seriously doubt that they will fade in the second season. But hey, it sells a ton of figures so… YAY!

OG: This series is one of the closest yuri fans have to a series starring a lesbian couple with a daughter and it is wonderful. Is the tale of an eternally grateful dragon who wanted to repay the human who saved her life, albeit drunk, by becoming her live-in maid. Tohru being a dragon girl had incredible power and could easily crush everyone in sight but preferred to try and understand humanity so she could live in peace with the woman she loved. It of course was hard at times but thanks to Miss Kobayashi slowly growing to accept her back (romantically she had a ways to go) and the two raising the adorable bundle of mighty puff known as Kanna they became a happy family. How long this relationship will last and whether Miss Kobayashi would come to fully love Tohru back romantically remains to be seen. I have high hopes it can and will happen. Kanna X Riko is precious (Yes. Even that scene). We even have a potential BL couple, which is nice. Not a fan of Lucoa X Shouta the shota. Not because of the age gap but it not being my kind of romantic comedy. It is the same reason I have a hard time buying Tsubame X Misha from UzaMaid. Mya-Nee X Hana from Wataten...maybe. At least Mya-Nee showed she is patient. Back to Dragon Maid. Great series. Naughty of course but great.

11. Sweet Blue Flowers (Aoi Hana) - 119 Votes

OG: Megane girl falls for a cutie but has a hard time confessing to her to the point she gives a relationship with another girl a try. Said other girl has troubles of her own courtesy of her own views on what love. Do not get me started on the OTHER girl who likes megane’s girlfriend. I did not even mention megane girl’s first love interest who she herself eventually begins questioning her feelings for the glasses wearing maiden. While this is well known throughout the history of yuri anime Aoi Hana made it clearer than ever that Yuri + Classical Music go hand in hand. Plus the show is quite pretty. Ultimately enjoyment of this series depends heavily on viewers’ patience.

YuriMother: Aoi Hana was ahead of its time in many regards. Most yuri during the early twenty-first century was unrealistic and melodramatic, especially with the revival of S stories. Aoi Hana instead presents a calm and realistic story that we still rarely see in yuri anime today. Instead of relying on tricks like service or comedy Aoi Hana presents a serene and character-driven story which is matched by equally calming scenery. It is certainly not the most thrilling watch, but a slow and beautiful slice of real life that remains one of the all-time strongest yuri works.

12. Yurikuma Arashi - 99 Votes

YuriMother: Yurikuma Arashi is strange, to say the least, but this is not out of the ordinary for legendary director Ikuhara, who also directed Utena. Parallels are easily drawn between this work and Flip Flappers, as they are both complex and encoded with enough symbolism to drown a bear. Yurikuma is one of my favorite works in the yuri genre and I have had more than a few heated discussions about interpretations of the work, including one memorable occasion when I was visiting a college professor and we ended up in a shouting match in the middle of the hall. However, while Flip Flappers holds a high degree of polish the same can, unfortunately, not be said here. Yurikuma Arashi has more than a few scenes of fanservice many of which overly fetishize the characters and relationship and some of the symbols, particularly lily flowers and the word “yuri” are practically beaten to death with an object I refuse to come up with because I am starting to have my fill of symbolism. However, despite some of its sloppiness, Yurikuma is one of the single most interesting and well-formed anime out there and analyzing it is practically a right of passage for seasoned yuri fans.

OG: Yurikuma Arashi is my favorite of Ikuhara-san’s series. To me it was the least complicated of his works but even so I needed help to understand the show. Luckily I had plenty of assistance. The meat of the story is more complicated but put simply it is about a war between a group of bear girls (and some human girls) who want to freely express their love and/or desire/hunger for each other and another group that amounts to Right to Censor from WWF. Like I said it is far more complex than that but that is the gist. The anime is quite ecchi and it has good reason for it. Again the gay bears are the more liberated of the groups and them getting more sexy scenes is meant to showcase that. Our heroine has good reason to be grumpy and a divine entity was introduced alongside a certain someone from a certain dark anime we already discussed.

In the end it is a show starring lesbian bear girls. I love love stories between women and i love bears. It was obvious I would end up enjoying this one. Like other complex stories it is not for everyone. Shows like Flip Flappers, Utena and Yurikuma have something of a learning people will have to get accustomed to in order to enjoy them.

13. Whispered Words (Sasameki Koto) - 88 Votes

OG: To me Aoi Hana and Sasameki Koto were always connected despite the former being a drama and the latter a comedy. Both star a female protagonist struggling with how to best tell the girl she likes her true feelings whereas their love interest for one reason or another makes it all the more challenging to get their feelings across. Both shows aired during a time yuri was not as popular of a genre as it would become over time. Perhaps if they had come out a little later when yuri was becoming more popular in the mainstream they would have fared better…Then again they may have helped set the groundwork for future yuri shows so it’s just as well they came out when they did. In any case both good shows worthy of “best of yuri” lists. SK has the dynamic of the megane in love and her somewhat airheaded love interest who specifically likes “cute girls”. Poor megane has a hard time figuring out what the airhead defines as “cute”. The show also features an amusing side-couple of an ojou-sama and her tsundere girlfriend. Not to mention the somewhat controversial side-girl who plays a more prominent role in the 2nd half of the anime. Heck, even Mr Crossdresser himself is cool. Let us not forget Miss “Ha Ha Ha!” Another really good show that I would love to see the rest of the manga get animated someday but considering most anime are essentially manga commercials and the SK manga ended the odds of a 2nd season are close to 0.

YuriMother: 2009 was a great year for yuri anime, with both Sasameki Koto and Aoi Hana, among other works, airing. But while Aoi Hana sought to resist many of the common tropes of the genre and tell a simple grounded story Sasameki Koto appears to have looked a the list of every convention possible and say “yeah I can do that.” It has melodrama, comedy, one-sided love, friend love stories, I worship this genre but even I think there is a limit. However, Sasameki Koto is one of the most competent yuri anime works of the current era. While all the tropes are present most of the problematic aspects of the genre are not. The story is well written, characters enjoyable, and art that is really well done for the time. I enjoy every watch and if I ever want to quickly download the genre’s tropes into another person's head I need only duct tape them to a chair and throw on Sasameki Koto.

14. Riddle Story of Devil (Akuma no Riddle) - 77 Votes

YuriMother: Akuma no Riddle was highly anticipated back in 2014, sporting a premise of student assassins that, while certainly not unique, was outside the norms for the yuri genre. It promised a dark and thrilling take on the yuri genre that would not become popular until the yuri horror trend a few years later. At first, it looked like this would be successful with an excellent setup and some pretty compelling characters but ultimately Akuma no Riddle fell flat and became more derailed as it continued. The monster of the week style of episodes left little room for complex plots and plans or proper character development, which is a shame because of how engaging so many of the assassins were upon original presentation. However, this show still has some of the best action in the yuri genre, placing it alongside series like Cannan and Utena despite its flawed storytelling. If nothing else, the anime may compel one to read the manga, which expands the story and characters more than the show was given time to.

OG: Professional assassins secretly gathered at an academy in an attempt to take the life of a seemingly innocent cutie to win the ultimate prize, one of whom wishes to protect the adorable redhead. Yes the manga, which is pretty much a Director’s Cut, is better and the anime would have benefited from having 20+ episodes instead of 12 and a delightful beach OVA but the show did a good job of showing viewers what each assassin was like, their motivations (though many of their origin stories were summarized in written biographies during commercial breaks viewers needed to pause to read) were clear enough and the duels, as brief as some of them were, had enough spicy goodness in them to be memorable, especially the ones in the latter half of the show. Oh, and although the manga wrapped up after the anime it had a very similar ending.

15. Revue Starlight - 72 Votes

OG: Gay theater girls who strive to become the top star, meaning the best actress or lead actor of the cast. How do they do it? By working hard and overcoming their personal hardships? Yes. That. What makes this show so wonderful despite being almost a year old as of this writing is not only do the ladies all have interesting stories to tell but so does the stage. Every song, prop, movement, dance, gesture etc. It is like the performers and performances are united. It is like in Spongebob where not only does the person in the boots tell a story but the boots as well.

Oh yes. I almost forgot to mention the mysterious underground theater and talking giraffe. Never forget the talking giraffe from Hell. #Wakarimasu.

Super cool and super gay.

YuriMother: Bushiroad continuously gets better at what they do, creating media franchises of cute girls filled with music and making mountains of cash from smartphone games. Inspired by the likes of Love Live, they created BanG Dream and last year Revue Starlight. However, where these franchises fell short Revue Starlight success. It never twists its characters to tell a story but rather creates compelling arcs around them. I thoroughly enjoyed and agree with its place on this list.

16. Konohana Kitan - 68 Votes

YuriMother: I know of Konohana Kitan for its constant presence at yuri events more so than the anime or even the manga. It is adorable, relaxing, simple, and fun. While it does not add anything super substantial to the genre it does not take anything either or present any objectionable material. The “plot” is nonexistent but that does not matter, as it is not trying to tell a story or make commentary, just be fluffy and simple.

OG: Konohana Kitan to me is a Girls Club (Cute girls doing cute things) and iyashikei hybrid anime. It is visually stunning as it is relaxing with Yuzu pretty much one of the cutest demigoddesses in existence. She of course is a chick magnet but her heart will forever belong to Satsuki.

17. Destiny of the Shrine Maiden (Kannazuki no Miko) - 65 Votes

OG: The other stuff on the show is still not that great but ChiMeko will forever stand the test of time as far as I’m concerned. Top 10 for their love story alone. Yes. I know THAT ONE SCENE continues being controversial and talked about every time curious new yuri fans witness greatness…but I will forever defend Chikane because I get where she was coming from. Would I have done something different? Yes. The thing is you need to put yourself in her shoes and understand what she wanted to accomplish and how far she would go to get it done. Kotoha is best side-character and Souma Ogami is real man’s man who does not deserve the hate. He was an honorable warrior to the end. He fought well and accepted defeat like a man. Plus his yell is inspirational.

YuriMother: My feelings on Kannazuki no Miko are incredibly mixed. It has many of the worst facets of early current era yuri anime, tropes include S, rape and… am I reading this correctly, demon mechs? Worst of all it presents a cycle, a never-ending loop that haunts the characters in the overarching plot and it does not resolve it. If a work ever presents such an element, like Puella Magi did, it must be overcome or confronted at least. Its presence makes the already cringy story feels cheap and lazy. However, I love the two female leads and their difficult relationship. I love the music, especially the hauntingly beautiful ending theme, and the final moments of episode 11 are some of the greatest seconds I have ever seen in an anime. I cannot wrap my mind around my view of this series but at the end of the day, I understand it. I do not believe that work like it would ever be warmly accepted today but for its time it does stand as a breakout piece of yuri anime.

18. Princess Principal - 61 Votes

YuriMother: Princess Principal is one of the best anime of the past few years. It had everything, an interesting premise, great characters, an incredible soundtrack. Alongside all this is the sharp writing and thrilling story. Princess Principal did everything Akuma no Riddle wanted to with an intriguing and action-packed story featuring strong characters. On top of all this, the animation is top notch. A six-part movie sequel is planned which has me somewhat concerned, but I am glad to see that it is being continued as the ending to the series was one of its weakest aspects. Now if you will excuse me, I need to listen to some jazz.

OG: Cute and sexy gay spies in a dramatic British Steampunk setting. What more do readers need? Allow Her Holiness to elaborate a bit further. Currently waiting for the multi-part cinematic continuation.

19. Izetta: The Last Witch - 60 Votes

OG: I am known for loving shows people do not think as highly of. Izetta: The Last Witch is no different. I love this show so much. Besides how certain events transpired some complained about the depiction of WW2. Basically think about people ranting about storylines and content featured in certain Call of Duty and Battlefield games. Here however, it is clearly a fictional great war inspired by WW2. I was invested in the following:

-The cute and sexy ladies.

-Seeing two badass lesbians lead an army against an evil empire.

-FiZetta’s romance. This of course being the major highlight. I love FiZetta so much. My sexy lesbian babies and Anne X Grea’s mentors. They taught them everything they know after all.

It is similar to how I felt watching Kannazuki no Miko where my focus was primarily on the leading ladies’ developing romance. The difference is that unlike Kannazuki I was also somewhat entertained by our heroines’ enemies along with their allies. Basically viewers’ enjoyment of the show depends on how seriously they take their history and are willing to overlook the liberties this story takes with its depictions of the weapons, military and the familiar evil empire. FiZetta are one of my favorite lesbian couples of all time.

By the way, in that famous scene, yes they did. Viewers just have to squint their eyes to see “it”.

YuriMother: Another show that I consider to have squandered its potential. I know that lots of people enjoyed this one, including OG but I could not bring myself to finish this constantly mediocre series. Perhaps I am tired of alternative light-fantasy European-war inspired plots. Trying to stand out in this bloated genre is difficult and Izetta fails. Izetta started strong and hooked many viewers with its amazing visual and auditory polish but this was quickly lost in the plot which, while set up well, struggle to gain any ground of pay off what had been established. On the yuri side, it did not really do anything interesting or satisfying, with plenty of scenes feature the character’s standing next to each other looking cute and one or two moments of actual yuri. I am glad that some of you were able to enjoy this one more than me at least.

20. Maria Watches Over Us (Maria-sama ga Miteru) - 57 Votes

OG: Like Strawberry Panic this is a “Like it or not” classic. Despite being a Class S show it did its own thing and became a pioneer for . It’s also responsible for the many yuri jokes related to all-girl schools in anime.Shimako X Noriko best Grande and Petite Souer! Yumiko X Sachiko were great too as the two grew to better understand each other. Most memorable scene for me was the panda costume. Even Sei is a sleeper icon in all yuridom. Yoshino X Rei had a very interesting dynamic. I actually think they are the real pioneers of relationships between cousins. Thank you YoshiRei. HaruKana, Kaede X Sara and several others owe you two much appreciation.

YuriMother: Another great and significant series, Maria Watches Over Us, took the tropes of early yuri works, Catholic schools, a lack of men, piano scenes, and emotional relationship rather than physical ones and turned the dial up to 11. For better or worse, it single-handedly revived the Class S genre and was copied (and parodied) endlessly for over a decade. However much I complain about S I actually do not think that we would have the current age of yuri without its popularity and proliferation at the beginning of the century so I owe a big thank you to Maria Watches Over Us for that. Ignoring its historical importance and literary significance the anime still presents an engaging plot with wonderful characters and more butchered French than my last trip to Europe. It is certainly worth a watch and worthy of a place on this list.

What do you think should be on this list?:

YuriMother: As I previously said, this is a pretty perfect list. As far as missing titles I can think of the following.

Simoun - not the greatest in terms of plot or animation but it had cute service and a fun action-packed plot.

Kashimashi: Girl Meets Girl - This series may be strange and present the dreaded love triangle but it did its best to tell a transgender narrative in 2006, naturally this involved aliens, and I applaud it for its attempts.

Cannan - This series is light on the yuri but heavy on the suspense, action, and amazing character designs. The terrorist plot is exciting and the final train fight featured in the series is one of the greatest action spectacles in anime that somehow manages to remain grounded.

OG:

-Harukana Receive: Best all-female sports anime ever made. Plus the gayness is not subtle at all.

-Mikagura Gakuen Kumikyoku: Eruna Ichinomiya is an underrated yuri icon. While not the first of her kind (That honor, I think, goes to Galaxy Fraulein Yuna) she set the standard of cool and inspirational badass lesbian protagonists who are proud of who they are and...also happen to be super perverts. Eruna made it cool to be such a protagonist. It is nice seeing a lesbian lead who does not care what anyone else thinks. She is hungry for cute girl booties. While she often loses her control in the presence of pure beauty she, as an inspiration for others like her, has enough self-control to not go overboard (most of the time).

-Symphogear: Symphogear is love, Symphogear is life. Hopefully Season 5 will keep up the good work.

-Rinne no Lagrange: My favorite mecha anime and the reason I embrace OT3s when the signs are there. Not the greatest but man was it fun. Plus Madoka Kyouno is still sexy.

-Yuki Yuna wa Yuusha de Aru: My favorite Moepocalypse anime of all time. Yuna X Togo taught me to love and trust some people outside my closest family again.

-Mouretsu Pirates: If someone were to ask me “Hey OG. What to you is the perfect anime?”. I would tell them Mouretsu/Bodacious Space Pirates.

-Kashimashi: Girl Meets Girl. Thanks to the first fan commenting and reminding me of it. Definitely worthy of a spot. #HazumuWasAlwaysFemale

Final Thoughts:

OG: Pretty good list and close to what mine would look like were I to make one. Reason I have yet to do so is because I do not feel confident enough to pick a favorite yuri anime of all time. Favorite yuri manga and couples? That I can do, but anime always seems to give me a hard time choosing my absolute favorites. Like I said though, a potential yuri list of mine would look something like this. I also found it interesting how similar the Top 10 are among both our respective fanbases and visitors to the poll conducted by the Akiba Research Institute.

YuriMother: I may have done most the complaining and left the praise to OG but I actually and really happy with this list. I think that every title presented is a worthy addition and while I would certainly move some higher or lower than their current placing I do not believe that these are too far off from my own opinions, which is surprising for a popularity poll. More than anything I am thrilled to see that works I dislike that I thought to be popular did not make this list. Perhaps I should have more faith in people and their opinions. Everyone did such a wonderful job voting and I am so grateful!

Thank you so much everyone for reading and for voting in the top yuri anime poll. To see the full results of the poll and to support yuri news, reviews, and content, check out the YuriMother Patreon. Happy Pride Month

#yuri #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#pride #pride month #queer #gay #anime #cartoon #tv #lesbian #lesbians #girls love #wlw #gl #poll #manga

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victimhood · 4 years ago

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The Beautiful Game: Chapter 2 - Kickoff! (TOG intl football AU)

Heeeeere’s chapter 2 of The Old Guard international football (soccer) AU! Again, this is a Book of Nile fic, with chapters of both Nile and Booker POVs. Kaysanova are the side ship in this fic.

Chapter 1 here, or follow the tag #tog: the beautiful game for the fic, or #tog fc if you want to see the process “sketches”. Feel free to send me any asks about this AU!

CHAPTER 2 - KICKOFF

Nile is invited back to the panel for the men’s final. She was meant to be a one-time guest on the semifinal analysis, but the higher ups really appreciated Nile’s encyclopedic knowledge and her effort to convey this knowledge to the American audience. It would be remiss not to give her a spot, and Nile does have a reputation for being the nation’s sweetheart in the women’s run to a consecutive final in the 2023 World Cup.

For the second time, Nile has to get used to—as the trashy tabloid rags like to put it—pouring herself into a figure-hugging dress, and she has to go through hair and make-up, sitting in the studio for hours—it’s all so fussy and constricting, such a different world from the technical, engineered fabrics of the football kit, designed for maximum sweat-wicking movement. She sends a selfie of her herself to her mom—OOTD on full display, and then decides to post it on her social media. If she has to go through all this trouble to look good, she better damn well milk it for all it’s worth.

In the pre-match analysis, to her surprise, someone on the panel asks her for insight into player nerves before such a big final. You pretty much can’t sleep the night before—unless you’re not really human, Nile jokes. It segues into some banter on the panel, and then the lineups are announced. The thrum of the stadium is audible from the live feed, and god, that jolt of energy through Nile‘s veins—it thrills her to feed off the energy of the crowd and yet it hurts her to know she’s not the one playing, not anymore.

The day before, the third place match is settled in Mexico City, where the Netherlands beat Brazil 3-2, Dutch forward Marouane Idrissi scores early on, ten minutes into the game, and the lead is doubled by van de Berg shortly before halftime. Brazil makes a comeback in the second half, Martinho with a screamer from a free kick, and then Vinícius coolly slots in another one with his left foot. Edwin de Haas redeems himself, and wins the game with a header at the 78th minute. The atmosphere is relaxed and friendly, and at the post match interview, Kaysani rues his error that led to Brazil’s second goal, but shrugs it off saying he had fun with the Brazilians and he can relax and watch the final like a spectator. The interviewer reminds him that his good friend Di Genova is playing, at which Kaysani gives a tiny smile and simply says, “Forza, Nicolò, forza.”

The 2026 FIFA Men’s World Cup Final is off to a start. There are the stirrings of some attacking plays from both sides, but they fizzle out in the final third. Halftime happens, and Nile and the other pundits have to find something to talk about, so they pull out all the statistics they can to pad out the halftime analysis for such a meager half. Both teams are playing it very cautiously, and the pace of the game is considerably slower than the exhilarating semifinals, each team biding their time for the perfect opportunity. At the 67th minute something finally happens. Di Genova fouls French forward Kylian Mbappé near the penalty box, which results in the referee issuing a penalty kick to the French. There is an uproar from the Italians, not least of all Di Genova, who is given a warning by the referee, with a wag of a pointed finger. VAR is called to settle the dispute, which invalidates the referee’s initial decision, proving Di Genova right. The referee has to award a free kick instead, which is decisively cleared by Di Genova and launched into the opposing half, starting a furious counterattack that culminates in an Italian goal by winger Lorenzo Cuomo. The French try their best to get the game back into play as quickly as they can, and then there is a commotion when a foul is once again called on Di Genova, this time for supposedly tripping LeLivre. Di Genova furiously protests that LeLivre is diving. The referee warns Di Genova that he is on thin ice, and awards the French a free kick. Di Genova then moves to help the fallen LeLivre off the ground, but this is where things get gnarly. Reports say Di Genova scoffed at LeLivre when pulling him up, saying he should win an award for his acting, which prompted LeLivre to say something provocative to Di Genova, which resulted in Di Genova headbutting LeLivre to the ground. All Nile knows is—seeing the headbutt happen real-time on camera, and gasping aloud in the studio with her coworkers. If ever there is proof that history moves in cycles, surely this is it—a variation of the infamous 2006 altercation. Within the studio, one of the pundits begins to chastise Di Genova for this completely irresponsible behavior in a World Cup final—Di Genova is the captain, and the lynchpin in the defence—he will be sent off for something like this, leaving his team exposed and hanging by a thread on their single goal.

The crowd jeers Di Genova off the field, and the Italians have to play with 10 men. By this point there are 15 minutes left to the game, and the atmosphere is so charged with palpable tension even Nile has to squirm in her seat. To borrow a phrase from a legendary football manager, it’s squeaky bum time.

Ultimately, the Italians manage to hold off the French, despite very good attempts at goal and six minutes of added time. Di Genova has to suffer the distinction of not being able to collect the World Cup medal, and, being banned from the stadium, he has to watch, from a screen, his very team lift the World Cup trophy without him.

#the old guard #tog fc #tog: the beautiful game #book of nile #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #sebastian le livre #nile freeman #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #tog AUs #gosh i just reread this chapter and it is so nerdy about football #SORRY if this fic is sooo overboard with the sports talk #this fic feels like such a huge payoff to years of suffering for football #I did not go through 2006 rpf for no reason #nor THIS TIME FOR AFRICA waka waka eh eh #if you have no idea what’s going on in this chapter read it out to your football-obsessed friend and let them Scream At You #the line that makes me so soft in this chapter is forza Nicolò forza

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

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another kind of green (10/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’m going to post this a few days early per a few requests, and I hope you all enjoy the ending! To those who were waiting to binge read the entire thing, now’s your opportunity! haha.

Thanks to @xemmaloveskillianx choosing | forgotten first meeting + accidentally married | as her fic giveaway choice! It was difficult to figure out at first, but I had a great time writing it for you 💚

ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

-/-

“So,” he starts as Emma clasps her bra and adjusts the straps until they’re in place, “that was – ”

“A one-time thing,” she quickly says, not allowing him to finish. “I’m not interested in anything more.” “Aye, neither am I.”

It’s been awhile since a had a one-night stand. They used to be more common for him, even if they did usually turn into month-long flings, but not so much lately. Tonight is an outlier, a what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas kind of cliché, and no matter how much he’d like to pull Emma back into bed with him for another round, she seems ready to go.

Good. That’s likely for the best for both of them.

No strings attached.

“Good. We’re in agreement then. Thanks for the – ”

“The best orgasm of your life?”

Emma throws her head back with laughter, her tangled hair cascading down, and she quickly brushes through it with her fingers. God, her hair was soft. “Don’t flatter yourself. It was good, but I’m not giving you the best title.”

She reaches down and grabs her leggings, and he decides he should get dressed, too, pulling his jeans back on. “You going to give me another chance to try to take that top spot?”

“Huh. You wish.”

“I obviously do.”

She’s got to be one more cheeky statement away from slapping him.

They both keep getting dressed, falling silent in their conversation, and then all of the sudden they’re standing in front of his hotel room door. When did they move? Maybe the champagne affected him a little more than he thought if time is blurring together like that.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Emma rasps.

“Going down to the casino.”

“You can’t go to the casino. I’m going to the casino.”

“It’s a big city, love. I imagine we can both go. There is quite the selection of casinos.”

“I’m going to this one, though. I do not want to have to go to another hotel when I have a bed here.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll have to manage to share the same space. We’ve been sharing a rather close space for the past hour, so I think we’ll be right as rain.”

Her eyes roll, and she quickly turns away, grabbing the rest of her belongings and opening his door. Killian follows, keeping his distance behind her, but they easily fall in step with each other. It’s weird walking with her now, hostility running between the two of them in the very hallway where she practically had her hand down his pants an hour ago. Killian tries not to think about it, to think about how damn good that felt and how frustrating it is to have Emma be so put off by him now.

This woman doesn’t make any sense.

Then again, who spends time together after a one-night stand? You either get up and leave right afterward, sneak away in the middle of the night, or have awkward conversation in the morning. Or possibly morning sex, but that’s the best case scenario.

They’re having awkward conversation right now. He should have stayed in the room. Instead he’s standing in an elevator with the woman he just fucked, and he’s never felt quite so claustrophobic.

As soon as the doors open, he’s going in the opposite direction of her. That’ll fix all of these problems.

“Hey,” someone yells when the doors open, “you two got married earlier!”

“Wrong people,” Emma mumbles as she steps out of the elevator.

“No, no, it was the two of you,” another girl says. It’s an entire group of them, all in matching outfits. Bloody hell. It’s a bachelorette party. Why do women insist on dressing alike when someone is getting married? “You had on the most gorgeous dress. It made me want to throw out my dress and buy a new one.”

“Oh, don’t say that. Your dress is gorgeous.”

“But it wasn’t like hers!”

“Yours is better. No offence.”

“None taken,” Emma laughs, looking over at him and smiling before quickly turning away and crossing her arms over her chest. Well, at least she smiled. “I’m sure your dress is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I’m Anna, by the way. Can we buy you two some drinks? We’ve got a package with the hotel, and I’d just love to hear a little about the wedding.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emma begins, nibbling on her lip. “I, we – ”

“That sounds great, Anna,” he interrupts. “Emma and I would love that.”

He knows Emma is shooting daggers at him with her eyes, and honestly, he doesn’t blame her. He’s just roped them into spending more time together as well as spending time with an overenthusiastic bachelorette party. If the woman didn’t already dislike him for everything outside of sex, she’d hate him now.

But honestly, it’s not bad. The women are nice, if not a bit loud, and he and Emma manage to string together some kind of fake story about their wedding and their courtship. Neither of them discussed actually telling them the truth, but he has a feeling they would all be absolutely devastated if they learned the truth. They’re very much a group who are in love with love, and if the drinks they’re getting weren’t so damn strong, he’d be bitter about it and say something about being engaged not being all it’s cracked up to be.

He couldn’t tell anyone what marriage is like. But engagement? He knows enough about that, and his certainly wasn’t like this.

“Do you want another one?” Emma asks him.

“Aye.”

She raises her hand over the bar, her sweater rising to show off her toned stomach, and orders them two more drinks. They might as well take advantage of the free drinks while they’re here.

“So, how long are we going to keep telling these women that we’re married?” she asks as she takes another sip of her drink. It’s mostly ice now, but she can’t seem to stop. “As long as we’re getting free drinks? Does that make us horrible people?”

“It makes us opportunists.”

Her eyes roll. “If it wasn’t one in the morning, I would probably protest.”

“It’s a good thing it’s one in the morning then, isn’t it, love?”

The drinks keep flowing as they move away from the bar and move toward the casino, spreading out to slot machines and poker tables. It’s been awhile since he played. Liam used to love the game, and everything Killian knows about it is from him. That’s a good thing when Killian starts winning a little money. It’s not such a great thing when security comes over because they suspect he might be counting cards.

His brain is not functional enough to count cards right now.

He’s definitely drunk. He knows that he is, and at some point today he should have had a little more water. This has not been his most well thought through day.

“Who knew you were such a rebel, nearly getting kicked out of a casino?” Emma asks, walking up to him and poking him in the chest after security finally lets him go. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Darling, you barely know me.”

“True,” she slurs. “What do you say we get out of here since I don’t think security is going to let you keep playing?”

She stumbles, just briefly, and Killian grabs her waist, squeezing her hips. “I thought you said you didn’t want to leave the hotel.”

“Did I?”

“I think so.”

“Huh. Well, I’ve never been to Vegas. I’d like to explore. C’mon, Jones. Let’s go. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“No, love, I suppose I don’t.”

One minute he’s standing in the middle of the casino floor only inches away from Emma, and the next they’re walking hand in hand around the Venetian as Killian weaves some kind of story about how they’d tell Anna and her friends that they honeymooned in Italy and how they would absolutely eat that story up. He keeps thinking this isn’t real, that Emma shouldn’t still be standing next to him and that this is all a dream fueled by their sex, but she feels real.

She is definitely real.

And he’s very aware of how she’s clinging onto him in the small room that they’re in.

Wait. Weren’t they just outside? They were. They were also thinking about getting a gondola to ride, but now all of the sudden they’re in a room with the two of them, a few other people, and an Elvis impersonator.

What the fuck?

“You may now kiss your bride.”

Killian looks at Elvis before looking at Emma, and all the sudden he remembers walking into this chapel and remembers that he and Emma are getting married. She’s so pretty like this, her smile so bright, and he can’t quite believe she agreed to marry him. He thought he already had the one woman who would say yes to marrying him, but she eventually changed her mind. Now he’s got another chance.

This is a bloody brilliant idea.

Quickly, Killian bends his knees and dips his head down until his mouth is pressing against Emma’s.

-/-

Emma Swan is kissing him.

Emma. Swan. Is. Kissing. Him.

Killian knows how she kisses. He remembers how she moves her lips and how she knows how to perfectly move between aggressive and careful, and he knows that’s exactly what she’s doing right now.

The thing is, he can’t quite believe it’s real.

That she’s real.

He hasn’t seen her in two weeks. The Academy has been kicking his ass six ways to Sunday, and all he’s done is go to training, come home to eat and study, fall asleep, and then wake up and do it all again. He’s been awful at keeping up with his relationships and with his runs with Emma, and he kept meaning to call her. It was killing him that he kept blowing her off, but then he’d get called away and the thought would slip his mind.

How could Emma Swan have ever slipped his mind?

That’s something he’s been asking himself for months now as he desperately tries to remember every single detail of the day they met and the hours following. Only bits and pieces have come back after they slept together, and as much as he wants to know what happened, maybe it’s better if he never remembers.

Maybe it’s better if he leaves in the here and now because Emma is doing this particularly delicious thing with her tongue that has his heart pounding.

This is about the last thing he ever expected to happen when he told her they were married and that they’d need an annulment.

God, they were supposed to go out to celebrate the annulment.

Emma starts to move away, her mouth fleetingly leaving his, but he doesn’t let her, wrapping one arm around her back and pulling her toward him while his other hand grabs onto her ponytail and gently tilts her head in the way that he wants to. She got to kiss him the way she wanted, and he damn well intends to get the same opportunity.

Now that the initial shock of her being here is over, now that he knows with complete certainty that this is real, he can feel the softness of her lips and the glorious way that her breasts press into his chest. He’s felt all of these things before, but it wasn’t like this. The last time was different. It was in a buzzed haze of lust and champagne, and while he feels the slightest buzz now, it’s nothing that would make him forget.

How could he ever again?

“Emma,” he whispers as he pulls back, resting his forehead against hers while they both pant, trying to catch their breaths, “what’s happening?”

And then he’s being shoved backward until he’s stumbling back into his apartment and Emma is following behind him. She’s strong, but she shouldn’t have been able to shove him backward as much as she did. Then again, showing up and kissing the holy hell out of him is the exact way to catch him off guard so that he’d stumble over practically anything.

What the hell is happening?

Now that he’s looking at her, he can see the fury in her eyes and the way that her hair is falling out of her ponytail. She’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, and when he looks down at her feet, he sees that she’s in her running shoes.

In the weirdest way, he’s missed those shoes.

She ran here.

“It takes five seconds to text,” Emma pants. His body is having a difficult time ignoring the rasp of her voice and the sweat on her skin, especially as it trickles down between her breasts. “It takes five seconds for you to tell me whatever the hell has been going on that you haven’t been able to go on our runs or get dinner or do whatever the hell it is that we do. Because do you know how it looks to me when I tell you about how shitty people have treated me only for you to practically disappear the next day? Do you know how shitty it felt to get our annulment papers and then have you disappear? Because I thought – I thought we – ”

“We did. We do.”

Her brows shoot to her hairline. “We what?”

Killian takes a step forward, close enough to grab Emma’s hand, but he doesn’t. “We were friends. Are. We are friends, love. I also thought that we might possibly be more. You kissing me kind of confirms that for me.”

Her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of red, and the corners of Killian’s lips tug up. He bets she hates herself for blushing right now. “I’ve kissed you before. You don’t know that it means something.”

Impossible. She’s absolutely impossible.

He rather likes that about her. Quite a lot actually. Definitely more than he ever expected to when he met her.

Definitely more than he ever expected to like anyone again.

“I do.”

“How?”

He braves the next step and moves closer to her, tucking a lose strand of her hair behind her ear. She doesn’t move away, and he has to hold in his exhale of relief.

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. You make me sure of things I’d otherwise be unsure of, and you give me hope I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Her eyes are wider than he’s ever seen them, and unlike so many other days in his life where there’s nothing extraordinary happening, he knows that this is one that could change so much. “Your eyes are so beautiful, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like them before.”

“Do lines like that work on all of the girls?”

“I really only care if they work on you.” Emma huffs, and Killian dips his head down to hover his lips directly over Emma’s. He can feel her breath and the heat of her body. He can feel everything. “I’ve been having my ass kicked by training. I’m so exhausted day in and day out that I barely remember to eat. Not being able to run with you, not being able to have you take the piss out of me over my smoothie choices, has been torture. I didn’t want to leave you when the papers came in. I – ”

For the second time in five minutes, Emma slams her lips into his. She’s a force of nature, this one, and he’s not sure what to do.

Well, besides kiss her.

He’s completely blindsided by her being here, by her doing this, and somewhere in a small corner of his mind, he knows they should talk. He’s been burned enough times by physical relationships that he knows exactly how things like this go, but this isn’t that. This is a bloody confusing relationship that he couldn’t put into words if he tried.

“Are we – ”

“Yes.”

“Do you – ”

“Yes.”

Killian laughs into Emma’s mouth as she pushes him back into his apartment, his feet nearly tripping over Will’s bloody out of place shoes. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

Emma stops kissing him, pulling back as he chases her lips, but he stops right before he captures them once more. “You were going to ask if we were going to have sex.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner. A man likes to be courted.”

Her brow raises. “Are you serious?”

It’s nearly impossible for him to hold back his laugh. “Swan, there is literally nothing in the world I want more right now than to have you, but I need you to know that this isn’t going to be just sex for me, not like it was the first time. I know you now. I know the sound of your laugh and how you act when you don’t have coffee or food. I know, well, I know you more than I think either of us expected to get to know each other, and I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

He knows Emma well enough to know there’s a chance she’s about to walk back out his front door, but saying that was worth the risk. He doesn’t want to start something that’s going to end up hurting them both.

God, he should have found the time to call her this week. And last week. He’s got to apologize to her again.

Her chest heaves, the sweat there beginning to dry, and she opens her mouth only to snap it closed. “It’s not going to be a one-time thing. It means more to me now, too.”

“Good.”

He can’t seem to stray far from Emma, his hands running along the sides of her neck before falling down to her arms, and the way she’s working a spot on his neck is absolutely divine. She’s intoxicating, and every breath is not enough. That should terrify him. Hell, it should have him running out his own front door. This spark that runs hotly between them isn’t entirely new to him, and the last time it blew up in his face.

This has all the potential to do the same.

Or not.

“Is Will home?” Emma murmurs as they walk back toward his bedroom.

“At work.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want him walking out of his room and seeing this.” “It’d be quite the show.”

Emma pushes against his chest, but he easily grabs her waist and turns her around until he’s the one guiding her. She didn’t know where they were going anyway, was simply aimlessly guiding him until his back hit a wall and until her sweatshirt was left on the hallway floor. There’s so much happening right now that reminds him of their night in Vegas – the fumbling with clothes and heated kisses against walls as heat continues to simmer below his skin – but he knows this is different.

She knows it, too, which may be the best part of all.

A lifetime ago, he’d have despised himself for thinking things like that when a woman was undressing in front of him, but that was the past. This here and now? It’s better.

They’ve made it to his bedroom now, and his heart beats in a heavy pattern while his erection is tenting his sweatpants. It’s incredibly uncomfortable at this point, but he doesn’t intend to rush this. Not when things are so tentative and not when he’s been waiting for this moment.

“Oh my God,” Emma groans.

“Darling, I don’t think that’s the way you’re supposed to say those words in this particular situation. It’s supposed to sound a tad more…pleasant.”

“I can’t get my damn sports bra off.” “What?” Killian laughs, backing away from her to look at her as she tugs on her bra.

“I’m sweaty. Or, like, I was. I literally ran here. I can’t fucking get it off.”

His laughter keeps bubbling in his chest, mixing in with the heat between his legs and his focus on getting some kind of relief, but Emma is standing in his bedroom, half-naked, and she can’t get her damn bra off.

“I am probably the sexiest woman you’ve ever slept with, right?”

“Aye,” Killian says, completely serious. He steps forward and leans down to press his lips to her collarbone as he tugs the material of her bra up. It is stuck, but with a little willpower, he pulls it up and off of Emma until it’s falling to the ground so that she’s bare to him. “You are.”

Her cheeks flush red, and that flush moves down toward her breasts. It’s a beautiful sight with which he cannot wait to become more acquainted.

“Shut up and get on the bed.”

“So demanding, lass.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I ran a few miles to get here, and I think I’m running on limited time before my body decides to stop working.”

“I haven’t slept more than four hours a night in two weeks.”

“So this is about to be really good sex then?”

“Aye, absolutely.”

Emma falls back onto the bed, and Killian cages her in, moving his mouth of hers and licking into her mouth while his fingers trail down her body, one hand palming her breast while the other finds the slickness between her thighs. He groans at the feeling, at knowing this is for him, and it doesn’t take long before her thighs are quivering from his ministrations. She’s very nearly there, her back arched off the bed, and this is better than any and all of his memories.

“Condom,” Emma pants. “Get a fucking condom.”

“I – ”

“Please do not make the joke I know you’re going to make.”

Killian huffs and curls his fingers inside of her once more before pulling out and leaving a soft kiss to her inner thigh, watching as her skin twitches with his touch. He quickly gets the condom from the box in his bedside drawer, rolling it on and wondering why the hell that takes so long, before he moves to hover over Emma again. She doesn’t let him, though, encouraging him to lay on his back as she straddles his hips and curls her fingers into his chest hair.

“This is a new side of you, love.”

“I’ve got a few of those.”

He arches a brow. “Really, now?”

“Hold your horses, tiger. One at a time. I’m not some kind of contortionist energizer bunny.”

He bites his cheek, a comeback on the tip of his tongue, but then Emma is guiding him into her, the warmth of her surrounding him, and all of the breath leaves his body at the feel of her.

Bloody hell.

He can already feel his release licking at his spine, but it’s too soon. There’s so much left to be done, and he’s not some teenage boy who’s going to fall apart at first touch.

Emma looks ethereal above him, even under the harsh lighting of his bedroom, and he watches as her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and a smile curves at her lips. And then she starts moving. It’s slow and steady at first, the both of them testing each other out, but then his hands grab onto her hips and she really starts moving.

It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before. “You’re absolutely everything,” he breathes. “Bloody magnificent.”

“Killian, I – ”

He nods and leans up to wrap his arms around her back, pulling her toward him so their chests brush together, and then he’s carefully flipping them around, slipping out of her for a moment before slamming back in. They’re both almost there, bodies shaking and breaths gone, and he’s purposeful with his thrusts and with the way he moves his hand where they’re joined until Emma sucks in a sharp breath and begins to fall, becoming more glorious by the second. He works her through it, letting her wide out the waves, but then he starts fucking her in earnest until his own release is thrumming at the base of his spine and working through him.

Killian collapses on top of her, crushing her with his weight before propping himself up on his elbows so he can look down at her and the absolutely goofy grin on her face. He’d like to see that more often.

“Better than the first time, aye?”

Emma laughs and reaches up to push his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “It’s not a competition, but yeah, better than the first.”

Killian huffs and falls to her side, quickly pulling off the condom and tying it before dumping it into the trash. “You should show up to my apartment more often then.”

Emma turns on the bed and reaches around to pull the comforter up over her. He grabs it and helps tug it up over both of them while Emma inches closer to him, leaning down and kissing his collarbone. He could go again if his body would let him, the adrenaline giving him more energy than he’s had in weeks, but it’s not going to last long.

“Was it really just that you were busy?” Emma asks. “It wasn’t – ”

Killian adjusts his arm under her shoulder and trails his fingers down her back while his other hand tries to smooth back some of her hair. “I should have made time for you. I wanted to. I will from now on. Love, I promise that it wasn’t because the annulment papers came in. I, well…”

“What?”

“I was happy when they came in. It felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders, but a part of me was also terrified that you’d have nothing to do with me now that we had no reason to still be talking.”

Emma’s lips fall open before snapping shut. “I felt the same way.”

“Yeah?”

She nods her head, looking at him with a small smile, before letting her head fall back against the pillow. Their noses are so close they’re almost touching.

The freckles on her cheeks are mesmerizing.

“If you haven’t worn me out, because I definitely plan on the two of us doing that again, I will go running with you in the morning.”

“What about training? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Aye, but I think I’ll be able to survive. I’m a survivor, Swan. I also think I owe you a smoothie.”

“You owe me about ten smoothies.”

Killian chuckles and closes his eyes before opening them back up to the brilliant shade of green of Emma’s eyes. “I think I can handle that.”

“So, Jones,” she whispers, her own lips threatening to turn into a smile far brighter than the small one she’s been keeping since they started talking in the afterglow of it all, “I think we should go on a date.”

His brow arches. He wasn’t expecting that. He should have been, but they’re all sorts of messy right now. He’s not even exactly sure what he should be expecting when it comes to Emma.

He can’t wait to find out.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking you out?”

“You are so old-fashioned.”

“Now, darling, I believe I fucked you, married you, annulled that marriage, fucked you again, and then agreed to date you. In that order. What could possibly be old-fashioned about that?”

Emma chuckles and leans forward to kiss him again. He wants to get used to that. “Did you agree to me asking you out? I don’t remember hearing that.”

Her eyes roll. She’s exasperated by him, but it’s not like it was at the beginning. It’s not true annoyance. It’s something entirely different.

Better.

Definitely, definitely better.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Emma Swan.”

“Good.”

-/-

They get married three years later.

It’s pouring down rain, a July storm coming in and surprising everyone, and Killian can barely hear David officiating the ceremony over the sound of the water hitting the ground around him and flooding into the Charles river. They wanted to do it by the damn bench that’s paint was messed up from the man sitting on wet paint all those years ago, had planned on it for a few weeks now, only to show up today and find that the city had finally fixed the bench after three years of it being messed up.

All of the signs were there for them to cancel these plans. There’s no special meaning to today, simply a date they picked on the calendar that was close enough to the day they met and fit their schedules, and they could have changed it when they found out it was going to rain.

Emma didn’t want to.

He didn’t either.

Killian’s wearing his dress uniform, and Emma has on a short, emerald green dress that hugs her curves and is driving him mad every time he looks at her. They were already dressed when it started pouring, and they both pretty much said what the hell. Why not? That’s kind of been their motto through the whole thing.

They’re both wearing wellies.

As are all of their friends.

They look ridiculous. He knows that they do, but he wouldn’t have it any other way when it comes to the love of his life and her happiness.

Neither of them ever wanted to legitimately get married, not after everything, but it’s funny how things change when you find the right person who’s willing to wade deep into the waters of life with you.

It’s funny how things change when you meet a woman whose eyes are another kind of green.

-/-

tag list: @xemmaloveskillianx @therealstartraveller776 @stahlop @shardminds @carpedzem @captainsjedi @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard @snowbellewells @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic

#another kind of green #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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gothpanda · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch. 31: Last Night

WORD COUNT: 6.0k

A/N: I just realized i’m lowkey inspired by That 70s Show. If ya know, ya know!

WARNINGS: angst

TAGS: @madamsixx @emariehorror

Read on ao3

Previous/Next

September 1st, 1986

San Francisco, California

Staring up at an unfamiliar white ceiling, laying flat against her back, Sammi stayed silent as she was a guest in this stranger's bed. Sammi rubbed her tired eyes, not caring if her eye makeup was going to smudge, a growing throbbing feeling from them. Sammi's breath tasted like a mixture of drinks staining the tongue. She looked to her left, seeing a snoring man with his face half-covered by the pillow. Sammi felt somewhat embarrassed about not knowing this man's name, not remembering him, even telling her his name. Sammi remembers talking to the man at a bar, accepting all the drinks he gave her, and then agreeing to go home with him but not his name. Sammi gently raised her head from the pillow, looking around the room in search of her clothes. A short blue dress was tossed by the bed's foot, right by Sammi's underwear and bra. Her leather jacket was on a chair in the room, where her heels also were. Carefully, Sammi lifted up the thin duvet that covered her, slipping off the bed to the best of her ability to not wake the man and tiptoeing away. Sammi glanced over behind her, proud when the man remained dead asleep, snoring loudly at random moments.

After miserably playing ninja for 10 minutes, Sammi managed to leave the random apartment without making a sound, sighing out loudly to the breezy air. Sammi swung her purse onto one shoulder, pulling out her pack of Camels as she walked down the stairs. Once reaching the first floor of the outdoor apartment complex, Sammi soon realized she was completely unfamiliar, not recognizing the streets. There was more forest to hide the complex, making Sammi scratch her head for ideas. Even after being here for a few months in a city that was an island, Sammi still managed to get lost.

Nevertheless, Sammi started walking down south with a lit cigarette between her lips and a scowl. The sun was too bright for the hungover girl, mentally complaining about the headache. Stares coming from passing hobos made Sammi uncomfortable, trying to make herself feel small. After wandering for 30 so minutes, a street corner diner came into Sammi's sight, hurrying her pace in hopes to find a payphone to call a cab. The ring from the handbell echoed throughout the almost empty yellow diner, Sammi strutting up to the bar top where her heels were the only other sound. Sitting down, an older waitress in a matching yellow uniform began to hold a glare at Sammi, hand on one hip. Sammi mustered up the best smile she could to the woman, setting her purse down.

"What can I get for you today, Tart?" the waitress asked, remaining her glare at Sammi.

Sammi scrunched her brows. "Tart? What's a tart?"

"Use your brain, sweetheart, or at least what's left of it," the waitress said, beginning to walk away from Sammi to refill coffee for a man two seats down. The man looked over his shoulder at Sammi, not hiding his prominent wandering eyes. Sammi grimaced, zipping up her jacket all the way up.

"I'm not a hooker. Can I just get some coffee, please?" Sammi asked, frowning at the old woman.

"Could've fooled me," the waitress said, placing a mug between them and poured some hot black coffee. Sammi fixed up the coffee to her liking with a frown, blowing on it to not burn herself as she drank the little pick me up. Everything around her felt cold and quiet in this diner, giving Sammi a moment to think, which she avoided doing. She had to admit to herself that right now felt gross to her, never being a person who partook in one-night stands. Sammi racked her brain, trying to remember the man's name, rubbing away any wrinkles on her forehead. Sammi wondered if this was how the guys felt after a random night of partying, having sex with accidental women when they felt like it. Unlike her, though, none of the guys cared if they couldn't remember a girls name for a one night only event. Sammi got lost in her thoughts, beginning to wonder what Motley was up to now but knew she had to think about herself. Sammi soon eyed the payphone on the diner's far corner, remembering she needed to get home. A clock on one of the walls read 11:30 am, traffic beginning to make its way. Sammi glanced at the sullen waitress, frowning down at a row of mugs, she wiped clean.

"Um, excuse me, would you happen to have a number for a cab company?" Sammi asked the waitress. When the waitress kept her side-eye at Sammi, she didn't bother uttering words, only pulling out a thin pamphlet of different phone numbers from behind the counter. The waitress tossed it over, giving her back quickly to everyone. "Thanks…" Sammi mumbled, sliding off the barstool, reading down the list as she made her way to the payphone. She soon began praying for some spare change tossed in her clutch.

"Hey, you better pay for your coffee!" the waitress yelled out, slamming a clean mug hard on the counter.

"I'm not leaving yet!" Sammi yelled out, adding a quarter into the coin slot, punching in the first cab on the list. "Bitch," Sammi mumbled as she shut her eyes, resting her head against the wall. Sammi desperately wanted to go home after this long night turned into morning. The only problem was home was five hours away down south.

The cab came to a soft stop in front of Sammi's apartment building, Sammi's tired head resting against the window as she peeked out of it. Sammi was thankful for the cab ride after realizing she found herself all the way to South Berkley, knowing public transits would get her most lost. Sammi paid for the cab fare with a smile that took quiet the energy to muster up. The cab driver didn't care to say a thank you or give a smile back, only waiting to speed off as Sammi got out to continue his day. Sammi kept her head down low from the sun, disheveled hair covering the sides of her face as headed to the building door.

"Sammi!" a familiar voice yelled out of nowhere, Sammi halting in the middle of the building stoop. Sammi timidly looked to her right with a confusing twitch, eyes growing wide when two recognizable faces inched their way closer. Vince and Skylar. "Well, good morning to you!" Vince said, carrying Skylar on one hip, a backpack on his back. His dopey smile was bright for the time of day, Vince staying at the bottom step. Sammi couldn't believe the sight in front of her, frozen with a growing smile pressed on her lips. Little Skylar smiled at Sammi, showing straight away to everyone who she inherited from. Sammi slowly stepped down the short stairs to not trip over herself, staring dead in Vince's eyes with shock and joy. Vince only smirked, pleased with Sammi's reaction to his surprise.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Sammi asked.

"I told you we'd visit you. I'm just holding up to my promise," Vince answered back, kissing Sammi on the cheek in a way to greet her. "Wanna say hi, Skylar?"

"Ie," Skylar somewhat said, trying her best to wave to Sammi. This only made Sammi smile greatly at Skylar, holding onto her little hand like a handshake.

"Hi, Skylar! I've missed you," Sammi said in a sweet voice, Skylar keeping the smile her father gave her. "So why exactly are you here? Besides seeing my face so early in the day," Sammi asked Vince.

"I got Skylar for a couple of days longer, and it's boring down in L.A so I thought, why not have a little vacation," Vince said, shrugging a shoulder. "Looks like you're already having fun," Vince mentioned, looking down at Sammi attire. Sammi's cheeks grew hot, crossing her arms against her chest in a form to cover up.

"I'm always happy to see a familiar face up here. Let's get upstairs. My feet are killing me," Sammi said, turning back up onto the stoop, pulling out her key from the clutch purse. Vince followed suit, surprised at how bland Sammi's apartment building was compared to back home once inside. Everything could be compared to a shoebox, even the elevator being tiny for the two of them. But Vince kept to himself, bouncing Skylar on his hip to not have her fall asleep. From the short walk through the hallway to apartment number 321, Vince carefully put Skylar down, taking in the interior of Sammi's new place. It still screamed Sammi, seeing how hard she tried to make the apartment look like L.A. Splashes of color in some areas like the throw pillows on the black sofa, and everything kept straight in its rightful place. Photos of everyone on the tv stand. Vince was noticing the group photos of Motley and Sammi. He was almost surprised Sammi decided to frame those.

"So in no way am I judging, but were you just coming back from somebody's place?" Vince asked with a smirk as he pulled out a toy for Skylar to play with, sitting on the sofa.

Sammi rolled her eyes with burning cheeks, offering a Pepsi for Vince as she drank water. "Please do not tell Tommy when you get back. The last thing I need from him is giving me the third degree. I'm supposed to be an angel," Sammi said, sitting next to Vince with a far distance.

"Hey, everyone gets to have fun in a new city. I promise I won't tell him anything," Vince says, making a cross on his chest.

"How is everything in L.A anyway? It feels like every time I call someone, it's only for a minute," Sammi asked, messing with the fringe of a pillow.

"In more detail, everything is boring in terms of partying. Tommy and Nikki pretty much have to entertain themselves now. Mick is okay, I guess. We go out altogether as a band, and that's it,"

"Oh, you poor souls," Sammi teased with a smile.

Vince chuckled. "We're going to start recording a new album in January, but I doubt that," Vince mumbles in the last of his words, staring down at Skylar.

"Why? Is everything okay with Elektra?" Sammi asked, scrunching her eyebrows.

"It's not Elektra. It's freaking Nikki," Vince said, frowning.

"What's going on with Nikki?" Sammi asked, beginning to worry even if she tried not to. Vince only looked at Sammi for a moment before speaking.

"I haven't talked to Nikki at all, but I do know he's hiding in his house, having drug parties. Which means I doubt he's writing anything. Which means there'll barely be anything by the time we have to record. And even if Nikki does pull something out of his ass, I'm sure it'll suck," Vince said with malice.

"Vince, be nice to Nikki. He's still your bandmate. If you think Nikki isn't going to write in time for the album, which he does have time for, then talk to him," Sammi advised.

"Why'd you gotta take his side for everything?" Vince asked, frowning at her.

"I'm not on his side," Sammi muttered.

"Yeah, you are! Why else would you say be 'nice' to Nikki?"

Sammi rolled her eyes. "Just because I say be nice doesn't mean I'm on anyone's side. I'm only giving you advice for you not to deal with dumb B.S. It's also your ass that's in Motley. How about you give a shit about your band?" Sammi asked, scowling towards Vince.

Vince sighed out, pulling his ear lobe. "Alright, you're right. I'm sorry,"

"Thank you!"

"Why do you always have to be right about stuff?"

"Because I'm the only one that actually uses my brain from the four of you," Sammi teased, making Vince rolled his eyes playfully. "Now, were you planning on just visiting, or did you have an idea of going somewhere?" Sammi asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Do you want to go to the aquarium? I think Sky's old enough to react to the animals," Vince asked, with a small smile.

"I'd love to. I promise I won't take long getting ready," Sammi said, jumping up from the sofa. "Oh, and help yourself to whatever's in my kitchen," Sammi added before disappearing into her bedroom. Vince only kept his smile on Sammi when she left him and Skylar alone, sighing out as he sat on the floor next to his daughter. Vince couldn't help but feel joy from the idea of a small calm day with Sammi, just like old times.

"I forgot how cute you look with your glasses," Vince said to Sammi, opening the car door for her. Sammi only smiled and slid in the front passenger seat, trying to play down Vince's obvious flirtation. For a Monday afternoon, San Francisco felt lively and calm compared to the other days of up and down the chaos. A developing hangover didn't paralyze Sammi surprisingly, getting a chance to enjoy the city for what it was for what felt like the first time. Sammi had had the habit of only leaving her apartment for school or food. The aquarium was nearly empty as kids were already back in school, letting Skylar roam freely around like a princess. Vince loved Skylar's fascinations with the sea creatures; her mouth opens in wonder the entire time. When the three reached a grand display window that covered every inch of the wall, making the room a dark blue, Skylar couldn't help but sit right on the floor to stare in awe. Vince almost reached down to pick Skylar up, but Sammi beat him by sitting next to Skylar and prompted her right in her lap.

"Sky, look at that fish over there," Sammi softly said in Skylar's ear, pointing out to a colorful fish with a long-finned tail. Vince only smiled down at the two girls, wishing he had a camera for this sweet moment to freeze in time. "Not gonna join us, Dad?" Sammi asked Vince, shrugging his shoulders and joining them on the floor. "This was a good idea, Vince. It's cute seeing Skylar look shocked at everything,"

"Yeah, I get them every now and then, especially for this little girl," Vince said, rubbing a knuckle against Skylar's cheek.

"Did you tell Sharise you were coming up here?" Sammi asked.

"Yeah," Vince shortly answered. Sammi scrunched her eyebrows at him.

"Are you lying to sound nice, or did you really not tell her about leaving?"

"I told her I was taking Sky out of L.A., I just didn't mention coming to see you,"

"Vince!"

"What? I didn't want her yelling at me for coming to see you. That's my business. And if I want to bring Skylar along, I can do that. I am her dad,"

"Yes, but come on, dude, I would want to know where the hell my child was going every second and who would be around her. Especially if the father of my child was going to go see an ex-girlfriend,"

"Sharise goes out to visit ex-boyfriends, so I don't see the big deal. Also, she knows you and knows Skylar likes you. You're not a stranger to anybody,"

"Have you ever thought she might not like that? Even if I'm not a total stranger,"

"What do you mean?"

"All of a sudden, her daughter likes someone new right away that happens to be an ex. You don't think that's pouring salt right on the wound? I'm just trying to tell you what a woman could be thinking,"

"And thank you for that, but Sharise and I are fine talking only about how happy Skylar is. I'm sure Sharise doesn't mind a responsible person being around our daughter at all,"

Sammi shrugged her shoulders, turning back to the aquarium, seeing clownfish swim near the glass. "I guess," Sammi mumbled, keeping a hold onto Skylar.

Vince glanced over at Sammi, seeing the worry on her face, sighing out. "I'll tell her when we get back home. We're leaving tomorrow afternoon anyway,"

"Good. Let's keep moving than before Skylar gets bored. I know I already am," Sammi said, shifting Skylar in Vince's lap to stand up before taking the toddler in her arms.

"You're okay carrying her?" Vince asked, standing up as they continued down the designated path the aquarium set up.

"Why wouldn't I be? She's a good arm workout," Sammi teased, lifting Skylar up and down gently like a dumbbell, earning a laugh from the baby and Vince. Vince enjoyed the day more and more, feeling confident enough to rest an arm around Sammi's shoulders. Vince and Sammi looked like young parents with a beautiful growing toddler in Sammi's arms in the eyes of a few passing strangers. No one recognizing Vince made the feeling of blending in again reachable to Sammi and Vince. The 'little family' continued to roam the paths around the ginormous aquarium, finding calm sharks on one side and smaller octopus on another side until walking to the outdoor seal and sea lion sanctuary.

"Man to be like that seal, getting a tan on a rock, enjoying life," Vince said as Sammi switched Skylar to his arms.

"Vince, you already do that every time you go down to the beach," Sammi teased, leaning over the railing to see a school of seals hiding from the sun in the water.

"Not all the time, I go to the beach. I also drink and try my best to surf!"

"You trying to surfer and failing will forever be a highlight to our beach dates,"

"Good to know you still remember them," Vince said, winking at Sammi. Sammi only looked away from the man, shaking her head as she continued walking around the area, Vince and Skylar following behind.

"I still remember us being in a relationship, Vince. It's not like I completely erased everything the moment we broke up," Sammi said over her shoulder, a cold feeling trailing down her body. She wished it was so easy to erase memories of past happiness. Sammi came to a far halt from Vince, turning on her heels to hear Skylar begin to cry, heading right next to Vince. Vince tried to calm Skylar the best he could, bouncing her on his hip gently, Sammi gently shushing in Skylar's ear as an attempt as well. "Hey, can you see what time it is?" Vince asked Sammi, looking out into the distance where the sun was beginning to set. Sammi glanced down at the thin silver watch on her wrist, seeing 5:30.

"I think it's time to call it a day. It's already getting late," Sammi said, showing Vince the time on her watch. "Where's your hotel?"

"Oh, hotels aren't for a family man," Vince said with a smile as Sammi raised an eyebrow. "Come on, let's get some food. I'm buying,"

"Okay?" Sammi said with scrunched eyebrows, following Vince through the path to leave the aquarium. "Where are we going now?"

"Just trust me!"

Vince drove out into downtown Oakland on the San Francisco Bay area's east side, parking in front of a rustic apartment building. Sammi didn't say a word the whole time, only helping Skylar out of her car seat with her bag. From the first few steps of entering Vince's apartment, Sammi couldn't help but become envious of the warmth she could feel compared to her little 'home.' A spacious two-bedroom that was almost entirely exposed brick walls. Vince was able to have the luxury of renting an apartment like this, Sammi imagining how much regular rent would cost for a place like this. "How about you order us some Chinese, Sam. I'll take care of the little princess," Vince said, grabbing a grumpy Skylar from Sammi's arms. Sammi followed, ordering takeout like back in Redondo Beach, remembering Vince's usual order as hers. It didn't take long for the two to finally eat, Vince opening a bottle of wine to pass the time. Sammi sat right across from Vince on the dark oak dining table for four, pouring out a small amount of shrimp fried rice from the container. Vince ate straight out of the container, chewing on a piece of orange chicken, watching Skylar try her hardest not to make a mess as she ate chopped bananas for dessert.

"You really just thought of everything, haven't you?" Sammi asked, happily looking at Vince, sipping on red wine.

"Listen, I thought if I'm going to take my child on her first Daddy Daughter vacation, it had to be planned greatly. Besides, hotels just remind me of being on tour, and I don't like that right now,"

"You don't miss the feeling of touring?"

"Depends. Sometimes I do if it's been a long time, but I prefer being home most of the time. Or at least with family,"

"That's understandable," Sammi said, taking a spoon full of rice.

"I haven't asked you yet, but you haven't spoken to Nikki, have you?" Vince asked out of the blue, catching Sammi off guard. She looked at Vince, then down at her food, as she swallowed.

Sammi shook, scratching the side of her head. "No, I haven't. I haven't spoken to him since the wedding," It wasn't a complete lie. Vince nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Sammi finished what was left of the red wine, debating to pour another glass.

"It's for the best then. Like I said, he only cares about hiding away in his castle. He has new friends. I see them around him sometimes,"

"That's not completely true, Vince. Nikki cares deep inside his tiny little heart," Sammi mumbled, eyes gazing down at the table.

"You're so sure about that? Then why hasn't he asked about you?" Vince asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sammi stared at Vince, the heart began to beat fast, shrugging. "Nikki knows I'm gone, right?"

"Yeah, he does. He's known for some time now,"

"Then you're just lying to me. Nikki has to at least have asked Tommy about me. I'm sure if I call him right now, he'll say yes,"

"I'm sorry to break it to you, Sammi, but he hasn't asked about you to anyone," Vince said with a little smile. Sammi sucked the front of her teeth, looking past Vince into the kitchen.

"You know I'm going, to be honest, I still have no idea when you're lying or not," Sammi said with a repressed smile.

"I don't need to lie, Sam. Do you really want Nikki to be calling you when you're focusing on yourself? Drunk dialing randomly?"

Sammi frowned, blinking away anything from her eyes. Vince could tell the sadness was there. "No… I guess not,"

"Good. Because there's something I've meant to tell you,"

"What is it?"

"Nikki also moved on with another girl," Vince said with a shrug.

"How do you know?" Sammi asked, her frown turning soft.

"I see them around when they come out of hiding,"

Sammi didn't say anything else, only rising from her seat to head straight for the cabinets in search of something vital. "Do you have tequila in this place?" Sammi asked, hands on her hips to face Vince.

"The first cabinet to your right is where all the other booze is. Wanna have a little party?" Vince asked, smirking. Sammi pulled out the only bottle of silver tequila in the crowd of alcohol, screwing off the cap to take one straight shot, turning into two. Vince only kept his smirk on his lips, eyes turning lustful on Sammi as he finished the rest of his glass of wine. Sammi offered the bottle to Vince, the man taking it and taking a small sip due to Skylar looking right at him with big eyes. "Okay, little princess, it's time to go to bed," Vince said to Skylar, pulling her out of the high chair and taking her to what was her room for the night. Sammi could already feel a buzz coming on, strutting over to the table to grab the bottle, heading right for the grey sectional sofa. She dropped herself onto the piece of furniture, taking another big gulp of tequila. Vince returned fast, thanking God Skylar went out like a light when he put her to bed, sitting right down next to Sammi. He placed an arm right behind Sammi, taking the bottle from her for another shot.

"Fucking asshole," Sammi slurred, eyes closed with her head resting on the sofa frame.

"You're right, he is. Open up," Vince said, pouring tequila straight down Sammi's throat. "You don't need that in your life," Vince said, fingers lightly caressing Sammi's bare arm.

"Exactly! I'm doing great out here! I'm moving on! I need to worry about me!" Sammi said, not noticing the more vivid touches from Vince. "If he got a girlfriend, then good for him!" Sammi didn't believe anything of what she was saying.

"You are doing great out here, way better than him," Vince said, cradling Sammi into his side, her hair tickling his cheek. He could smell the scent of Sammi's favorite perfume on her neck. This tempted him to a greater power. To Vince, everything was set in stone for him, looking like the perfect man right now. Vince lowered his lips down to the nape of Sammi's neck, lightly kissing in the spot he knew she loved. Sammi pulled away, lips parted as she stared at Vince for a moment. Instead of what Vince thought might be rejection, Sammi leaned in, crashing their lips together for the first time again. Vince immediately reacted, cradling his hand on the back of Sammi's head, bringing them closer together. Sammi clung onto Vince, the tequila making everything feel fast even when not. Tongues were beginning to slip past each other. Vince pulled away; his breath was almost taken away. "Let's go to the bedroom," Vince said, swiftly catching Sammi into a bridal carry. She only giggled along, attacking Vince's neck as he walked down the hallway, soon placed gently in the middle of the king-sized bed. Sammi brought Vince back down, kissing him deeply with a sense of passion. Vince took his time with his wandering hands, lifting up Sammi's shirt and caressing her thighs through her denim jeans. The two didn't need to speak, remembering everything like it was and getting lost in the feelings once again for this one night.

September 2nd

Sammi snapped open her eyes, her breath caught in her throat as if she was having a nightmare. Everything around her was almost pitch black, the window only giving in a bit of light from the outdoor streetlights. Sammi frowned to herself, realizing she was naked under the blankets, slowly resting up on her elbow. She blinked to wake up with the worse blurry vision, reaching out to feel for the nightstand as if it were her standard room, hoping to get her glasses. It didn't take long for Sammi to find her pair of glasses, putting them on to see a dark place that belonged to someone else. Fuck Sammi thought, staring out the window through the blinds. Her buzz from earlier had gone away; grateful to not feel the after-effects of alcohol again, Sammi sitting up, covering herself as she looked at the clock radio. It was 1 in the morning. Soon a soft snoring sound caused Sammi to look over her bare shoulder, finding Vince naked under the thin blanket, hair covering his face. Sammi bit her lip to not make a sound, lifting the covers and quietly tiptoeing out of bed. Her clothes weren't far from the bed, almost all in one pile for Sammi to quickly change into. The entire time, Sammi looked over at Vince, praying he wouldn't wake up suddenly. Vince didn't move an inch, dead asleep while Sammi faintly slipped out of the bedroom. She paced down in soft steps to the front of the apartment, grabbing her sneakers that were tossed next to the sofa. Sammi looked around for a piece of paper, debating to leave a note for when Vince woke to not worry him. Unfortunately, while napkins were scattered on the table, there was no pen in sight for Sammi. She let out a quiet sigh as she grabbed her purse, tiptoeing in socks to the door, and with quick stealth left. Sammi thought how she didn't want to do this again, cursing at herself while slipping on her shoes. Tossing her disheveled hair to one side, Sammi sped down the hall to the 3 flights of stairs, running right out of the rustic apartment building, gasping for fresh air. The city was still wide awake, taxis passing not far, Sammi lifting her arm to catch one's attention.

"Good evening, little lady. Where are we off to?" the man asked over his shoulder, slowly driving off.

"To the middle of San Francisco," Sammi muttered, head resting against the window.

"Good thing I know every part of this bay area," the man said, raising the volume of the radio a bit to an American Top 40 station. Sammi shut her eyes, wanting the tired feeling to go away.

Yawning out in an empty classroom, Sammi rubbed her tired eyes to stay awake, dark circles forming from two nights of inadequate sleep. Sammi looked forward to a morning class to soon become a dread, the professor lecturing as expected, but nothing was sticking to the young girl. It took two cups of coffee from the library for Sammi to wake up and understand what was written in her notebook. Sammi rubbed her temple as she wrote down the chapter spoken in her lecture, different definitions from a Pharmaceutics textbook, thankful for only having one class today. Sammi looked over to a clock on the wall as she drank a bottle of water, wondering if Skylar had woken Vince up for breakfast. Sammi shook her head, letting out a heavy sigh, dropping her head on the lab table. She felt exhausted to the degree that wasn't due to heavy workload; to was the exhaustion of being overwhelmed by others. Sammi thought being alone in a city would help, but clearly, it wasn't the case. When she lifted her head up, Sammi's eye fell on a familiar man standing in the open doorway, staring at her. He walked right up with a nonchalant smirk, proudly standing right in front of Sammi. It wasn't until he got closer did Sammi fully remember his face.

"Hey," the man said, fixing the straps of his backpack. "I didn't know you went to school here. I guess we never spoke much about school the other night," Sammi showed a tight-lipped smile at the man, nodding as she fidgeted with a pencil between her fingers. "Damn, your notes are impressive. I never would've thought you were a scholar type. How are you doing?"

Sammi scrunched her brows at the man. "Okay, I'm sorry, I can't fake it. I do not remember your name at all,"

"But you do remember me, right?" the man asked.

"Yeah. You're the guys whose apartment I snuck out of in the morning. I didn't think I would run into you at all after that," Sammi said with a shrug and a polite smile.

"It's okay. I already came to that conclusion way beforehand. I'm David," said David

"Oh well, great. I'm glad we both knew it was just a one night stand. Nothing else,"

"Of course, it's pretty clear as day with someone like you, Samantha," David said, shoving his hand in his jean pockets.

Sammi scrunched her brows together up at David. "I'm sorry? Someone like me?"

"Oh, come on, Samantha, don't play dumb. Your brother's Tommy Lee! A rockstar who always slept around with randoms. I figured it has to run in the family, and clearly, it does," David said with a smirk.

Sammi curled her lip, rising up from her seat, folding in her arms against her chest. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Oh, did I hit a soft spot? I'm only pointing out the facts that you're just as easy as your brother. Why do you think I kept buying you drinks?" David asks. Sammi didn't say a word, only scuffing at the imbecile in front of her and rolling her eyes, getting an idea. Instead of shouting at David for being a rude person, Sammi carelessly grabbed her water bottle and took a big gulp of water, holding it in her cheeks. She leaned over the desk a bit, inching closer as Sammi spit all of the water right in David's face. David immediately reacted, pushing Sammi away from him, almost stumbling on his feet as he wiped away the water from his eyes. Sammi tripped back down to the chair, glaring right up at the man.

"Fuck you, asshole!" Sammi shouted.

"I'm an asshole? You're the bitch who just spat in my face!" David yelled, drying his face with his shirt.

"Only because you just called my brother and I sluts!"

"It's the truth! How the hell did you even get into this school?"

"Because I'm smart and mind my business, unlike you. Now fuck off before I pour this whole water on your head!" Sammi ordered, standing up again. David didn't say another word, storming out of the classroom, almost being able to see smoke come out of his ears. Sammi shook her head, nostrils flaring with anger, slamming her book shut. She shoved all of her belongings angrily into her satchel, storming out in the opposite direction of David. Sammi didn't care about studying today, only wanting to go back to sleep in her own bed.

After a nap and a long relaxing bath, Sammi strolled over to the answering machine with green tea in a warm mug, remembering about the blinking red light when she got home. She knew it was something that could pile up if she let it. Sammi pressed play, sitting down on the loveseat as she blew on the drink before taking a sip.

"Hola Sammi! It's Em, just wanted to let you know, it's been a full two weeks of living with Sabrina, and we haven't killed each other! Maybe we can live together in harmony. Call me back. Love you. Miss you." Sammi giggled along at Emma's voicemail, happy to hear her voice again.

"Hi Sam, it's your sister that you need to call back because I'm bored and mama is worried. Please call her at least! Bye, love you," Sammi rolled her eyes, making a mental note to call her parents and Athena. Maybe even Tommy while she's at it.

"Hey Sam, I know you were probably in a hurry to leave this morning. Just wanted to say it was great seeing you. Hopefully, you come down to L.A soon. Skylar says bye-" Sammi deleted the message fast, waiting for the last one.

"Hi, Princess," Nikki slurred. Sammi froze in her place, eyes darting to the answering machine. "I know it's been a while. I'm sorry about that. Tommy just gave me your new phone number, in your new apartment, in a new city," Sammi could hear in Nikki's words; he had been crying, his voice sounding broken and rough. "I just wanted to call and let you know... Nona passed away a while back in the summer. I know she loved you," Sammi almost dropped her mug right from under her hand, warm tea staining the carpet. Sammi quickly felt the tears creep in her eyes, thinking of Nikki's grandmother. Gone.

"I'm sorry I'm high right now, but I just needed to call you. I want you… I miss you. Please-" Sammi let out a shaky breath, tears blurring her vision. She took off her glasses, placing them next to the mug on the coffee table, tears cascading down her face. Nikki's feelings couldn't leave Sammi's mind, even after a night that shouldn't have happened. She wanted to call back. She tried her hardest to call back but knowing Nikki was still high stopped her. If what Vince said was even a quarter of the truth, Sammi couldn't handle it. Sammi curled onto her side on the loveseat, weeping out a sob, almost as the ones she let out when she couldn't say goodbye to Nikki.

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #305

“you want me to be yours, well then you’ve got to be mine, & if you want a good girl, then goodbye”

Do you call the ice cream topping "jimmies" or "sprinkles"? They're "sprinkles" down here. What music are you listening to? Ha, I just turned on music before starting this. "Sex Metal Barbie" by In This Moment is on rn. If you go to school (HS or college) does your school have a rival? N/A Have you been baptized in any religious tradition? Yeah; I was born in a Roman Catholic family. My mom's mom would've probably had a heart attack if us kids weren't. At family gatherings, are you more likely to hang out with the younger or older relatives? I mean, I'd go for those my age or older, generally. I'd hang out with kids though if they wanted me to. Considering you current health, how long do you think you will live? With my CURRENT health, probably not even 80. Do you have anything in your room that would be 'weird' to others? Posters, yeah. Have you ever done geocaching? No, but it'd be cool if my body could actually handle taking a single goddamn step. What was the last game you won? Maybe Uno with my niece? I generally let her win, but occasionally I'm "lucky" to TRY to be more convincing, lol. I think she knows I let her, though. Do you know any deaf people? If so, is it easy or difficult to have conversations with them? No. Do you enjoy playing Monopoly? Why or why not? No, because I don't like board games, especially any that involve math. Is there a doorknocker on your front door? No. Do 'laugh tracks' on TV shows annoy you? They're so normal that I don't even notice them, really. Do people often mistake you for other ethnicities? If so, what do you usually get? No, I'm pretty obviously white. Has anyone famous ever attended your school? Who? I won't say his name for the sake of not connecting dots, but a well-known football player attended my high school. Have you ever had to attend an event that occurred on your birthday? Ha, my 16th birthday landed on the Super Bowl... I was at Jason's that night, and just to be "part of the family," we watched it with everyone else that came over. I was so bored and uninterested, but that's my own fault, really. I could have said something, but this was only a month into our relationship so I was too uncomfortable to speak up. What do you think makes a girl a slut? Do you believe that label is thrown around far more often than it should be? And finally, do you think it's unfair that mostly only women receive that label? I don't give a flying fuck how many people a girl is sexually involved with so long as she is safe and open and honest with her partners. I'm not a fan of the word and don't think anyone should be called it. Do you think it's bad to have sex at 15 or younger? I don't think it's smart, really. It's just too young to risk pregnancy. Yes, abortion is an option, but like... a 15 y/o girl should never be faced with that dilemma. I'ma be real tho, I don't think it's a "good" idea until you're at least 18, aaaand I don't know any non-virgin who waited that long. Just try your best to wait, ig. Favorite love song at the moment? Love songs never sit well with me anymore. I mean I can enjoy them, absolutely, I just... have a lot of bitterness. Trying to pick a favorite when you feel like that is like trying to pick the best-looking rotten apple of the bunch. Ever wondered what it would be like dating the same gender as you? I've done that already, and it was great but also scary in a massively homophobic state. Ever paid for sex? No. During thunderstorms, how does your pet react? Neither have a unique reaction; they're unfazed. What internet browser do you use? Google Chrome. Do you like eggnog? Noooo no no. How often do you see your mother? Every day, because I live with her. Do you like croutons in your salad? No, I really don't like the texture difference. Who did you last play truth or dare with? I don't know. Have you ever brewed your own mead, wine, beer or soda? No. Have you had to make any changes in your life lately? If so, what kind of changes? ugh What's the earliest popular thing you can remember from your childhood? Ummm. I mean, probably like Barney or Elmo? Do you prefer practicality or fashionability when it comes to clothes? Well, really neither. I'm the type that wears tank tops in snow, flipflops year-round, sweatpants in summer... so I don't really dress with practicality. I don't care what's "fashionable," so. Comfort pretty much reigns over my wardrobe. Which kinds of berries grow in the wild where you live? There are these little red ones that grow in little groups and somewhat resemble raspberries. I can't remember if they're edible, though... Oh, and muscadine grapes (I had to look up if they were berries lmao) can be found here, too. They're yummy. Beautyberries are another. Have you ever made an article of clothing yourself? If so, what was it? No. Do you go to arcades? If so, what's your go-to game at one? Even before Covid, I never really went to them. I enjoy them, though. I guess my favorite is maybe air hockey? When's the last time you had an alcoholic beverage? What was it? At the Cheesecake Factory for my birthday. It was some kind of sangria... Maybe strawberry and peach? Idr, but it was good. What has been the most enjoyable job you've had? You assume I've had a job I actually enjoyed. How about the least enjoyable job? Well, I barely lasted two hours in a dairy, soooo... When's the last time you had to carefully plan how you used your time? You're asking the wroooong person, 'cuz my life is never busy enough for that. Who do you usually say hello or good morning to first? My snake Venus, usually. Well, that is if her head is peeking out of her hide or is just fully out. Do you ever chat about your favorite video games with your friends? I don't really have gamer friends anymore, so not really. What do you hope you grow out of? Being so goddamn dependent. What movie made you cry the most? I can't say for sure considering it's easy for movies to make me cry, lmao. Maybe Titanic. What was one of the happiest moments of your childhood? Seeing a container of dog food in the far back behind the Christmas tree one year. It's how I learned I was finally gettinga dog (Teddy). What brings you the most joy in life? Probably my cat lmao. What's a hobby you would like to try out? I wanna get back into video editing, I just. Don't have the motivation for it anymore. As with most things. What sort of a kiss do you count as the first kiss? On the lips and with mutual intention. What was the last event you attended? Thanksgiving dinner at my sister's, ig. How about the last event you organized? Me? Organizing an event? What's the biggest insect you've ever seen? In the wild, probably like... a rhinocerous beetle or something. NO NO WAIT. I remember at least once in my life seeing a fucking GINORMOUS moth on the ground one morning. I don't know what kind it was, but jc it was huge. How about the biggest spider? Oh yikes, I'll never forget this: an orb weaver wandering across the floor of our childhood van and under the passenger's seat. Never saw it again. I was afraid to let my feet stay on the floor for a looong time, haha. What's something you'd never ever dare to ask another person? I'd never ask certain "why" questions, like "why did you get an abortion?" or something like that. I can think of valid situations to ask most things, even controversial matters, but no one should ever have to justify something like that. "Why don't you have kids?" is another. That one gets to me. Having children is not an advancement or milestone in everyone's life, and hell, you never know if the woman's had like five miscarriages or something. What's something you've always wanted to ask someone but haven't dared? Why Mom didn't raise her eldest daughter, at least for her whole life. Katie's childhood is a big mystery to me, and I want to know more, but I know the topic is very upsetting to Mom, so I'm not about to make her explain it. What's the worst/best thing you've done without your parents knowing? Saying "worst/best" makes this question confusing... but I'm guessing you mean the best thing to me that they wouldn't have approved of? I really didn't do a lot of things that would fit that description. I can only think of a certain intimate occasion where things happened where they probably shouldn't have. If you wear earrings, what does your favorite pair look like? Ugh, I don't because of the holes being too stretched out from wearing heavy earrings too long. I still haven't gotten to putting proper gauges in so it looks less stupid. Have you ever won any money from a scratch card? Maybe like, $10 or something. How about a slot machine? I've never played one. Do like playing bingo? Sure, it's all right. What small, everyday thing makes you really happy? Cuddling with my cat. Do you enjoy puzzle games? If so, which one's your favorite? Yeah, I do. I can't really pick a favorite, though... Is there a substance you avoid at all costs? If so, what is it and why? I think in a past survey I mentioned my aversion to beer because of the association it has with my dad. I'd never be able to get a sip down. Not that I really want to anyway though, it stinks. What you would you absolutely hate living next door to? Any really busy location or travel hubs, like a train station. My childhood home was near a railroad track, and it sucked, so I can only imagine a station. What would you love to live next door to? A waterfall, uggghhhh. In the woods too to hear plenty of frogs and toads and crickets... What gives you nostalgia? It is very easy to make me nostalgic. The littlest things can do it. Hearing about/seeing/playing childhood video games, like Spyro, is a biggie. Which reminds me how damn badly I wanna play the Reignited trilogy, fuck. I just don't have the proper console. Which language do you think is the most complicated to learn? Well English is supposedly the hardest objectively, but as a native English speaker, I can't say anything about that. In my experience, Latin was like fucking impossible. Is there a place that you might call your second home? I guess Dad's house, but it's not like I'm there a lot. I feel comfortable there, though. How do you imagine your later life to look like? I DO NOT want to think about this. I fucking dread the thought. What is a job you would never in a million years want to do? A butcher. There is absolutely no motherfucking way I ever could do it, even if it kept me off the streets. What's the weirdest building in your city? *shrug* How do you keep in touch with friends usually? Facebook. Do you recognize friends'/family's vehicles by sound? Not anymore. Dad had an old car that was very easy to recognize with its shitty muffler, but he hasn't had that car in years upon years. I used to be able to recognize Jason's old car too because of sound, but primarily because he drove way too fast down our path that when I heard a car zooming over rocks, I knew it was him. What's something new you've just recently learned? It was actually a topic of recent discussion that I may have high-functioning Asperger's. Very, very unusual to learn later in life, but apparently Mom's seen the warning signs in some things since childhood, like my extreme pickiness with textures, my tendency to knead and play with my hands in situations of discomfort, my social ineptitude, hyperfixations, it actually running in our family (which I didn't know beforehand), among a lot of other things. We're not really digging into it though because it just doesn't matter; there's obviously no magic treatment for autism, and me being in therapy and having a psychiatrist to handle my meds is enough. If you were in Harry Potter, which house would you be in? Apparently I'm on the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor line when I took a survey a long time ago. Are you nagged about being on the computer too much? Not anymore, at least on the average day. Mom's accepted it by now. Dad's joked about it before though and I know others have certain opinions about it. Based on your personality, what animal do you think you'd be? Maybe a deer. Shy, reclusive, and always on alert. Have you ever been in a hot tub? Yeah. What song is stuck in your head at the moment? I have "my boy" by Billie Eilish on right now because it's stuck in my head. What's your father's middle name? John. What's the last movie you saw in theaters? Yikes, good question. I think it was The Lion King remake. Have you ever vandalized? No. What's a pet you've always wanted? Most pets I want I've had at some point or another... I guess I'll say a ferret, though I've really only wanted one in concept. I could never keep up with their maintenance, but by god they are the cutest fucking things ever. Do you like mice? I love mice! What's your favorite t-shirt? My "equal in our bones" Cloak shirt. :''') The design is so beautiful and just my style in general, plus I live to support anything Fischfuck takes part in. Did you/will you get a car for your 16th birthday? I'm 25 and still have never had my own car lmaoooo. What's your favorite tomato variety? I generally don't like tomatoes themselves, but rather products made with them, like ketchup. If I'm in the mood though, I do like tomato sandwiches with mayo and bacon; I only ever enjoyed them though if they were fresh right from an old friend's garden. Which well-known person's death shocked you the most, if any? I think Chester Bennington's was the biggest surprise. Rest easy, you legend. What's the craziest color you'd dye your hair? More like what crazy color WOULDN'T I dye it... What was the longest train ride you've been on? I've never been on one. What's the coolest hobby one of your friends has? uhhhhh idk Have you ever played in a stack of hay bales? No. If you could learn any skill, which would you like to learn? Ha, cooking. How do you like your steak? Medium well.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''my boy'' by billie eilish

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bravomckenzie · 5 years ago

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no one tagged me but i wanted to play!!

1. favorite girl?

priya!! i love chelsea and lottie a lot too tho

2. favorite boy?

bobby (*pretends to be shocked*)

3. favorite route & why?

...bobby again. but also noah’s fun for the chase of it all.

4. season one or season two?

two by far!! i like how much more open it is. it’s hard to replay season one.

5. twitter, tumblr, or reddit?

for love island content, tumblr. in general, twitter.

6. try and guess each s2 islander’s zodiac sign?

i’m not gonna do everyone but i’ll do a few i feel sure on!

bobby: it’s cannon he’s a gemini and that’s absolutely correct. he’s such a gemini.

lottie: SCORPIO. LOTTIE IS A SCORPIO.

noah: taurus!!

marisol: virgo

hope: capricorn

hannah: cancer

lucas: aquarius

7. if you could meet any islander irl, who & why?

i would like to meet jakub to see if he still looks like shrek in person. but also i would like to meet chelsea 🥺

8. unpopular opinions?

...gary’s route is trash. i said what i said.

9. which islanders are you most like?

lottie for sure. i’m the first to fight for my friends and i’m very, very, very loyal. i truly put my girls first in every situation. i’m all about women supporting women. lottie is like that in theory, but not great at executing it. but at least the thought is there lmfao. also in reference to the 6th question, we’re both scorpios 😎

also i see a lot of myself in shannon. i’m straight forward and honest to a fault tbh. i’m truly brutally honest. i won’t sugarcoat. life’s too short to beat around the bush, lads.

10. most and least favorite islanders of all time, season one & two?

my favorite season 1 islander was jake. my bi king. least favorite is bitch ass levi. do you know how badly i want to beat his ass? i also hate mason. he’s so annoying. dude cannot take no for an answer. big returning lurik energy. but the whole fucking time.

my favorite season 2 islander is obviously bobby. my least favorite is once again, obviously noah. fuck noah.

11. which islander would hit a million followers first?

i think priya or chelsea. priya cos she’s hot and i would imagine chelsea is the second fan favorite behind MC.

12. who would get a major brand deal?

priya for sure. fashion nova here she comes.

i think lottie would get some from a few makeup brands! urban decay probably.

13. do you think any s2 islanders smoke? if so, who?

....define smoke

cigarettes: lottie, gary, graham, maybe rocco, and maybe but probably not bobby. maybe he does like socially. he’ll take it if someone asks if he wants one sort of deal.

the devil’s lettuce: rocco and he acts like it’s a personality trait, gary, lottie, elisa, henrik, felix 🤮, and bobby

14. what’s your season 3 bucket list?

im very interested in being a new islander being thrown in to the mix. but it should be how priya still came on the first day, just after everyone was coupled up and had to snatch someone’s man.

i would like more then one female love interest. i mean i know elisa comes in as a second late in the season, but it would be nice to have a choice if you would like to do gay shit, ya know?

i don’t hate the concept of casa amour and i think it could be nice if the boys weren’t all demons. and if they’re written in to the villa better when you take them back. it feels like they just get thrown in to a slot and it’s not customized to the actual character and it’s really noticeable with certain boys, carl especially.

15. do you read any fanfics?

i read too many fanfics

16. if there was a s1 and s2 all stars, who do you want to come back?

GIVE ME TIM AS A LOVE INTEREST OR GIVE ME DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways from season one - tim, jake, and jen but she stays away from tim so i can have him finally.

season two - priya, chelsea, lottie, gary, and carl (in the villa from day one). bobby isn’t invited bc i would be too distracted and abandon my life long dream of marrying my tiny tim.

17. which islanders are struggling with quarantine?

bobby for sure, chelsea, hope, graham, and gary are all probably dying

i tag literally anyone who reads this and wants to do it! tag me so i can read yours! you know this is an opinion loving zone.

#litg #love island the game #im not tagging this for islanders sorry

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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Femme: 16

IMPORTANT: There is a TXT side story in the works and any social media mentioned in Femme will be posted in a separate section in my master list. Just to enhance the reading experience, to be able to see everything y/n posts throughout the story.

[MASTERLIST]

Summary: The year is now 3019. Women were going extinct, cryogenics was the only hope for society. Now Femme Industries is the provider of Females, they use computer analysis and algorithms to match a femme to her male applicants. It is common for femme’s to match with multiple applicants. When you match with seven handsome young men, it is a challenge. But you love a challenge.

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, Bigbang x GDragon

Starring: Bigbang, GOT7, TXT, BlackPink, NCT127 and Twice are going to be introduced and explored fully in later chapters. Rating: Fluff so far

Warnings: Attempted theft, Attempted abduction

Length: 1.5k words

The excitement of stepping outside wasn’t lost but you were so familiar with the surrounding area, you had no hesitation. Following the directions on your phone you were walking past a bakery, it smelt delicious. Admiring the window display of cakes and other sweet and savory pastries, you saw through the window a familiar face. Jimin was serving a customer boxing up a young boy’s birthday cake. Using your phone to take a quick photo you giggled and continued on course. It took a while but you arrived at the uniform store, the owner greeted you with a curious smiling looking around the store for something.

“Hi I am coming to pick up some uniforms for work, it’s an ice cream van its pink” You smiled trying to catch the owners wandering eyes even turning to see what he was looking for behind me. Seeing nothing you turned back and pressed on. “I am looking for at least two uniforms, in a similar pink to the van”

“Of course, we have the logos and colors for the uniform ready, as we have provided uniforms for many years now. This is the new designed shirts for the old man, the frozen spoon’s logo in white on a pink button up. It’s an old school vibe from the old school diner days. The aprons a white with the logo in pink. Uhhhh… what exactly are you looking for?” He said never once making eye contact with you but staring out the door and shop windows. “Is he a bigger man, smaller man?”

“It is for me, I work there” you said and his eyes finally met yours, in shock. He seemed shocked and apologized bringing out a small book of options you found a really cute outfit and smiled. “This one please in the pink but can you make it with a peter pan collar in white and the same for this band around the cap sleeve, pleated skirt to the top of my knee and can I get a white apron like this.” You quickly googled what you were thinking and showed him and he nodded writing it down.

“Okay give me a minute to get the machine started but they should be ready in about 10 minutes is that too long, do you have somewhere else to be?” He said starting up the machine and a touch screen lit up. He placed the fabric roll on a handle and threaded into the machine, this was something you had never seen. Before it was like a giant fabric printer, he added the white fabric to a second roll holder and moved to the touch screen.

“Okay you said primary color is the dress, secondary is the collar and sleeve edge, you asked for pleated, would you like to confirm this is what you are after” He said and you looked at the machine and told him it was perfect, “would you like buttons or a zip the fabric is pretty stretchy?”

“No just something easy to pull on in the morning, nothing complicated” he nodded and declined the buttons and zips option. Adding the logo face up in the logo slot he selected left breast logo. He guided you too a machine that took your measurements, stepping out he hit start and walked to another machine.

The machine started pulling the fabric you could barely hear anything, but suddenly you heard the distinct sound of machine sewing. You were absolutely amazed, this had to be the coolest piece of technology you had ever seen. Reading a code from a costume book and typing it into the other machines touch screen, he turned, “is the type of apron you were looking for”

You looked and agreed with the design, he transferred your body dimensions and he set it to the knee. You asked him if perhaps you could get it an inch shorter than the skirt length. Altering it an inch and receiving your approval, he started the second machine with a white fabric. The first machine was attaching the collar, sleeve and logo before it beeped and the dress was taken out it looked beautiful. The man told you, there was enough money on the account for a three in total. You agreed to make three, he folded each neatly as they came out.

The process took just over ten minutes and he handed you one to try on and sent you to a room, you quickly got changed and looked in the mirror feeling very cute. It was very much what you were going for and you hoped to show the boys at home as well. Posting a quick picture to your social media you got a response almost instantly.

Heading outside you decided to head home when a man grabbed your bag and ran, chasing after him, you were yelling. “Give me back my bag, I swear. I’m not going to stop” Someone tackled him and snatched the bag and the guy scrambled away and you went to pursue him when a small young man grabbed your arm.

“Leave him, he is just hungry. Here is your bag” He said gesturing in the general direction of the unsuccessful thief. He was really pretty with such androgynous features. He wore a uniform like the boys next door. It must have been after school judging by the sun getting lower in the sky.

“Thank you for helping me, you are really nice” you gave him a genuine smile and dusted off his school jacket. You two spoke for a little while before you looked around confused, you had no idea which way you had come from. He smiled pulling your bag over his shoulder.

“This way Noona” He threw you a smile and you followed him back, talking the whole way and it was then that you noticed that you hadn’t run this far had you. He was busy telling you about his experience with bad guys. You both rounded a corner and you were a hundred percent this is the wrong way.

You stopped and his shoe scrapped the pavement when he stopped. You voiced your opinion on the directions and thanked him, asking for your bag. He seemed very sorry rubbing the back of his neck, “Mianhae. Here, is your bag” He handed it over and when you reached in to grab your phone when he spoke. “I am sorry, they are bad people like you said, I have no choice, or they will hurt me”

A group of five guys appeared behind you, trying to play it cool. They weren’t fooled. Your breathing was erratic and you were nervously looking around. They advanced slowly and you stayed perfectly still, not wanting to get trapped, this was like a game of chess.

However when they got within ten meters, you turned and ran quickly. Running wasn’t your specialty but hiding was, you ran jumped dodged behind a dumpster. Luck was on your side there was a tiny slide space between two buildings. Sneaking along quietly hoping to make it to the other side of the street where it sounded busier. You felt awfully claustrophobic the wall pressed against your bag and every time you breathed in your chest pressed firmly to the wall in front.

You stepped out the other side and began breathing easily, it was in fact louder and busier than the other street but you were still lost. Someone shouted and you tensed turning to see the group coming towards you. They grabbed you dragging you away as you were kicking and yelling at them to let you go. Throwing yourself from their grip they had ripped your shirt and the clasp of your overalls.

You heard another voice this one nasally. “You okay?” he asked you in English and saw a thin young man holding a baby. He pulled you to your feet and placed the baby in your arms with a kiss. You watched gently bouncing the baby, funnily enough taking care of the baby calmed your nerves.

The young man however seemed to unleash some sort of ninja skill, his body moved the way a fish might swim. He never stepped he glided as if the ground was made of the worlds slipperiest ice and he was graceful. A single punch looked like it was a practiced wave from the queen.

“Pammy, Pammy” the baby made grabby hands to the young man and you picked up your tiny bag from Hoseok and the uniform bag and the men ran away leaving the young man on his own. He turned and walked back his lip was split, he scooped up the child affectionately calling her his beautiful baby girl and looked at you.

“Do the Bangtan boys know you are out? I am Kwon Jiyong and this is my daughter Misuk. You are Y/N right?” He smiled shaking your hand, “Do you know your address I can get you a taxi home?”

He started to get dizzy and he held his daughter in his arms and slumped against the wall. “Listen my phone dropped out of my pocket, can I borrow your phone to call my partner Seung-hyun”

“You’re the Masc industries guy, I remember and you had a baby” You said kneeling down, in front of him, you pulled out your phone and it had died. Frowning you told him the bad news and sighed. That’s when you heard your name.

“y/n?” and out from the alleyway ran a very puffed agitated Yoongi.

Femme Media 16

Next Chapter

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@obeythehemmings

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starfleetdoesntfirefirst · 5 years ago

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do you want pike to be captain or are you annoyed about the current captain situation? i stopped watching halfway thru s2 but really want to get back into it!

Hi anon! In answer to your q, the second one—I’m annoyed at how, in a franchise that has had the protagonist be the commanding officer of the ship/station in all six of its previous shows, DSC not only made it so that the first woman protagonist of color did not begin her show as the captain/commanding officer (even Sisko, the man of color who perhaps-not-coincidentally was the only other Trek protagonist not to start his show with the rank of captain, still very much from the beginning was in the traditional Trek role of being fully in command of the space station his show centered around), but then made it so that the captains for the first season, second season, and at least the beginning of the coming third season are three (3) different white men. And at how the Season 1 promotional materials in particular did a bait-and-switch by hyping Burnham and Georgiou before making the actual show 2.5+ seasons of white dude captains, and at the way that, even after Lorca is off the show at the end of Season 1, Season 2 brings another white man to show “what a Good Starfleet Captain is like,” as though the example of the Good Starfleet Captain couldn’t have been a woman of color, or a nonbinary disabled person of color, or...

However, I can see how the way I set up my post about the Pike show made it unclear whether I was using the concept of ‘reverse bait-and-switch where women of color are the captains in the Pike show’s first seasons rather than Pike’ in order complain about DSC, or in order to complain about the hypothetical situation I had described where Pike wasn’t the captain. Thanks for asking for clarification!

Also, to be clear, I’m happy for anyone who loves Pike and is thrilled to have a Pike show specifically. I personally ended DSC Season 2 liking him as a character much more than I did at the beginning of the season, and the actor is awesome—I don’t wish the new show ill. And I’d be especially thrilled if it actually handles Pike’s future disability well, though given how badly the new Treks have handled pretty much every type of topic related to identity, I don’t have my hopes too high on that count. But it feels very glaring that not only did CBS and the showrunners have the first 2.5+ seasons of their show with a woman protagonist of color have three (3) different white men as the captains, and not only did Season 2 in particular focus so much on Pike and Spock—and write 20something Spock as being (out of character; I love TOS!Spock!) repeatedly physically violent to his sister without apologizing or being accountable—now one of the new show slots will go to a white man. Which doesn’t mean that SNW won’t have good aspects, or that there’s a damn thing wrong with people who love the specific character of Pike being thrilled about this—what’s glaring is the trend of how, with DSC and PIC and now SNW, CBS seems to think that they need to cater to viewers who want any/every/only white men as captains, and how the hypothetical reversed scenario of having three different characters who all happen to be women of color replacing Pike as captain for the first 2.5+ seasons would be so noticeable to viewers—and is so unlikely to happen in any modern mainstream Hollywood show—because white men are seen as default leaders in a way other people are not.

Re the second part of your ask, all of the above being said, DSC is my personal favorite of the Trek shows, so if you really want to get back into it I absolutely recommend it! I strongly dislike the choices I rambled about above, and the fridging of Georgiou and Landry, and so on. But I love the characters, and the chunks of writing and the actors that make those characters possible, and the gorgeous production and effects. Bluntly, we’re at a point where MOST (though not all!) big-budget genre TV shows and movies have a lot of death, fridging of non-white-men characters, and gore, so if I’m gonna watch modern genre TV, I at least want to watch a show with a lot of great characters, on-screen queer representation, and a woman of color lead who is an amazing and nuanced character (yes, Michael’s plotlines have gotten short shrift, but thanks especially to Martin-Green’s acting, her characterization and development are complex and fascinating).

Also, as has been pointed out frequently, it historically has taken Star Trek shows a season or two to find their footing, and there were a lot of behind-the-scenes issues and chaos affecting the writing and producing of DSC Seasons 1 and 2, so there seems to be a decent chance that Season 3 will center Michael more and avoid gross tropes. That being said, the pre-Season-2 hype made me genuinely believe we’d get a healing arc for Michael and less gratuitous trauma porn in general, and we got neither of those things, so I’m a little hesitant about believing Season 3 will indeed be better...but it sounds like they really may have actually have taken some steps to reduce poorly-handled grimdark this time (and IIRC the new showrunner is a gay woman?) so I’m holding out hope that it finally will.

Since you mentioned that you stopped watching halfway through Season 2, a word of warning (that will make me sound like a broken record to anyone who has been seeing me rant about 2x10 for over a year now) that there is what I consider to be an egregiously violent scene toward Burnham in episode 10, so heads up if you continue watching (feel free to anon me for details!) But yeah, despite all my qualms, DSC is my fave Trek—I just wish it’d do better.

And if the Pike show does pull a bait-and-switch and give us a season or three of women captains of color, I will not say no. ;)

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something-tofightfor · 6 years ago

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He’s Not Here - Part 10

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 4700

Rating: M (light swearing)

Author’s Note: I don’t own Billy’s character. I’m just writing this for fun.

Parts 1-9 can be found on my Masterlist (link in bio)!

Feedback is welcome - Always. I’d love to know what you think! Sorry about the delayed posting of this chapter... it’s a little longer than usual to make up for it. The night in question (drunk Billy) can be read about in the NSFW Alphabet’s “bonus” section (at the bottom).

Summary: You meet the Castles, Billy makes a revelation, and you remember something that acted as a catalyst for your current situation.

** Takes place well before the events of Daredevil S2 and Punisher S1 **

Tagging: If you want to be added or removed, let me know.

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In the five days since you and Billy had talked about what was going on between you, things had fallen back into place much more easily than you would have imagined. True to his request, you’d stayed in his apartment until Monday morning, (you’d gone back to your place to get clothes, toiletries and your phone charger, which had ended with the two of you in your bed for a change) and the time had been more than enough to show you that Billy had truly meant what he said.

There were still moments throughout the days when you saw that Billy’s eyes would lose focus, his jaw would lock and even your touch wasn’t enough to draw him out of his thoughts, but you were getting less and less worried. Billy had gone to two meetings with his friend Curtis, a man that had been honorably discharged from the military after losing most of his leg in combat. Curtis’ meetings were useful, Billy had said, and it was a good way for him to get used to being back home by being around people that he was comfortable with.

“Hey.” His gaze was soft, a smile on his lips as he opened the door of his apartment for you, gesturing for you to come in. He’d finally unpacked, and the place was looking lived in again. “Have a good day at work?” Billy was in the process of finding a job, so he was at home while you were in the middle of planning an event for the same company that you’d been working for when you met Billy… and the irony was not lost on you.

“Yeah.” You set your purse down on his table and allowed him to tug you into his chest, arms going around you. “Yeah, I had a meeting with Emily and her father today. They’re excited to work with us again.” Billy hadn’t reacted at your use of the woman’s name, but you pulled back and looked up at him nonetheless, wanting to see if he had any sort of response. After all, she’s the last woman he was in public with.

“She texted me today, actually.” Billy leaned down, his lips brushing over yours slowly. “Wanted to know if I was interested in being her date for the event again ‘for old time’s sake.’” He shrugged, pressing his lips to yours more forcefully, one of his hands sliding up your back. “I told her that I wasn’t interested.” You stared at him, and for a moment he looked confused before smiling again - this one a brilliant grin. “She’s going to be so mad when we walk in together.” Oh. we’re going together? I hadn’t even thought of that.

“I can’t antagonize her, Russo.” You sighed and his lips met your forehead. “At least not until we’re there and we’ve already been paid.” His laugh warmed you, even as he let you go and you moved past him into the kitchen, taking in the different dishes on the stove and counter. “What time are they coming, Billy?” Even though it was the middle of the week, Billy had decided that it was time for you to meet his best friend in person - so Frank and Maria Castle were coming to New York City to have dinner with the two of you.

“They should be here in about 40 minutes.” He stepped behind you, hand grazing your waist as he moved to the stove, picking up a slotted spoon and stirring one of the covered pots. “Just enough time for me to finish this, and for you to get changed if you want.” His attention was on the food in front of him, and you moved to the edge of the room, leaning against the door frame as you watched his movements. He’s so focused. A smile tugged at your lips as he moved gracefully from the stove to the fridge and then back, bending down to open the oven. I could get used to this. As if he could sense that you were watching him, Billy glanced back at you over his shoulder, long hair falling into his eyes as he winked at you. I think I’m already used to this.

---

“So, Bill and I met about six and a half years ago, and we hit it off right away.” Frank and Maria were sitting across the table from you, Frank gesturing with a beer bottle in his hand. “He’s the best friend I could have ever asked for, you know?” Billy shook his head, looking down before he sipped on his own beer. “Maria loves him and so do the kids.” Billy was grinning, red in the cheeks and his neck. “Bill said that he had something to tell us, though.” What? You looked over at Billy and he met your eyes for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Yeah. Well.” Billy set his bottle down and casually reached over to put his arm around the back of your chair, his fingertips closing around your shoulder. “I… we…” He paused, and you turned your head to stare at him. He’s telling them? “We had a conversation the other day, and I wanted you guys to come over and meet my...girlfriend.” I guess he is. Frank’s jaw dropped and Maria’s eyes widened, but both of them stayed silent. “I don’t really have many other friends, and I know that you’ve spoken to her before Frankie, but…” He sounded unsure for the first time, and you bit your lip, waiting.

Frank and Maria had been friendly when Billy had opened the door, though they both looked surprised to see you lounging on Billy’s couch. Dinner had been a lot of fun, with both the Castles falling into easy conversation with you and Billy about a variety of topics. And the dinner Billy had made? It was perfect. Garlic beef tenderloin with mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables and fresh baked bread had seemed like a literal feast, but Billy had pulled it off without difficulty, and again you’d been surprised at what the man could do. And he did it to … for me? “Billy, that’s… wonderful.” Maria was grinning, reaching her hand over to grip Billy’s tightly. “I’m happy for the two of you.” Your blush matched Billy’s, but it was Frank’s words that really got to you.

“Finally picking quality over quantity, eh Bill?” Frank smirked, shaking his head. “I knew there was something different about this one.” He jerked his chin in your direction, shaking his head back and forth. “All those video chats and the letters? Never seen you like that before, Russo. Glad you didn’t fuck it all up.” That broke the tension, and all four of you laughed, Billy leaning over to kiss you on the temple. “Can I borrow her for a minute, though, Bill? Wanna talk to her about something.” Billy removed his arm and you stood, grabbing your beer and waiting for Frank to stand too. “Your balcony good?” Billy nodded as he and Maria stood to begin clearing the table and Frank led the way through Billy’s living room and over to the sliding glass doors.

After you were both outside, Frank was silent for long moments, elbows resting on the railing. You stood next to him, looking out over the city. Billy’s apartment was on the eleventh floor, so there were plenty of tall buildings around you, along with a ton of ambient noise. “Is there… What’s up, Frank?” The man licked his lips, shaking his head.

“Bill’s my best friend.” Frank’s voice was gruff. “He’s been with a lot of women, you know? I’m sure you do, you’ve been … you’ve known him for long enough.” You nodded. “He seems settled with you.” Oh? Really? “It’s… nice to see him relaxed.” Frank was silent for a moment. “What I’m trying to say is that he’s never introduced Maria to anyone. I’ve met a few of them, and they’ve all been...” He looked down, stomping his foot once. “Not like you. Not at all like you.” You felt a warmth spreading through your body as Frank confirmed what you’d hoped was the case. “What do you know about Bill’s life?” Frank turned his head to look at you, and the expression on his face had changed. “About… his childhood, I mean?”

Of all of the questions Frank could have asked you, that was the one you weren’t prepared for. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “He… hasn’t told me too much, Frank.” There was no reason to lie to Frank, and you hoped that he’d tell you something more - giving you an insight into Billy’s life. “He got drunk one night when we were out, but this was before anything had happened between us.” You frowned. “He mentioned that he grew up in a group home. That he didn’t have a family.” You felt your eyes prickling with tears as you continued. “He told me everyone leaves him, and so he’s always been more willing to leave others.” Frank nodded. “He’s never known what it’s like to be loved without question.” Frank looked at you, still silent, and though his brow was furrowed, it wasn’t an unfriendly stare.

“Do you love him?” His question caught you off guard and you didn’t respond. “You don’t have to answer that, because I can see the truth on your face.” Frank stepped closer, the hand not holding his beer reaching out to touch your arm. “Don’t hurt him. And don’t let his insecurity hurt you.” Frank leaned in, talking quietly. “He cares about you. He wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t. Bill’s not the hearts and flowers and romance kind of guy, but he’s still got feelings buried under all of...this.” Frank gestured to his face before taking a long drink of beer. “Don’t make him regret this - or you. If that happens, I don’t think there’s any coming back from it for him.” Frank stood up, finishing his beer and then pulling you into a tight hug. “I want to see you around a lot, because you make Bill happy.” He stepped back. “He didn’t stop talking about you when we were over there. He used your name.” Frank laughed, swallowing hard. “He had a picture of the two of you in his pocket all the time, you know?” I didn’t. Holy shit.

“I didn’t know he had it with him.” Frank nodded, the smile creeping back onto his face.

“Don’t tell him I told you about it.” Holding up one hand, you promised that you wouldn’t and Frank led you back into the apartment, where Billy and Maria were side by side, washing dishes. Her laughter carried across the open space, and you felt Frank relax next to you at the sound. He made his way over to where his wife stood, his hands going to her waist as he stepped behind her, kissing the side of her neck as she leaned back into him, still laughing. Billy looked over his shoulder at you and you tilted your head to the side, smiling. I’m definitely used to this.

Half an hour later, Frank and Maria had said their goodbyes - the woman hugging you tightly as she whispered “be good to him” in your ear, and Frank putting one arm around your shoulders as he stepped out the door. Once they were gone, Billy sighed, stretching his arms toward the ceiling and offering you one of his hands. Taking it, you let Billy lead you to the couch, where he sat and pulled you onto his lap. After you’d leaned you head against his shoulder, his arms circling your waist, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I put that on you without warning.” His chest was rumbling as he spoke, and you brought one hand up, settling it on his shoulder. “I just didn’t know how to … I’ve never done this before.” He sighed. “I wanted you to meet Frankie and Maria, and I wanted to tell them… I wanted them to know that you’re mine...” He tightened his grip on you, and you felt his heart racing in his chest. “I know we decided that you and I were… but… I don’t know if…”

“Hey. Hey, Billy.” You sat up, looking into his eyes, which were filled with panic. “This was perfect. You caught me off guard, yes, but not because I didn’t want it to happen.” You shook your head. “I just didn’t think that you’d want to tell Frank so soon. I mean, he’s your best friend, and…”

“I talk about you in Curt’s group.” His voice was soft, and you froze. He does? “I’ve never used your name, but I talk about you.” He sighed, fingers stroking up and down your side. “I told Curt I need to get better and do better this time I’m home, and that I need to get myself back in the mindset that I’m not at war anymore… and that you’re a big part of the reason.” That’s serious. “It’s getting harder to come back home. Every time I go, I think I’m fine, but then when I get back here, everything goes to shit.” He sounded sad, but he was smiling, his eyes focused. “One of these days, I’ll tell you everything.” Everything? “I know Frankie took you outside, and I can only imagine what he said, but I hope he didn’t scare you away.” Leaning in, you kissed him, your hand moving to his cheek as you did so, and you felt him pull you closer.

“Billy, whenever you want to tell me about your life, I’m here.” Your forehead was pressed against his and he nodded once. Fuck it. “Frank told me that you kept a picture of us with you over there?” His soft laugh made his eyes crinkle at the corners but he nodded.

“I did.” He licked his lips. “I told you I wanted more before I left.” I didn’t believe him. I didn’t realize until just now that I didn’t believe him. “It was from the day we went to the Central Park Zoo.” That was from before we were… when we were just friends. “Do you remember when we took that?”

“I do. It was… your way of thanking me for taking care of you that night you got drunk.” He nodded.

“You stayed. You took care of me and you stayed and you didn’t try to take advantage of me - you didn’t want anything from me, and I wanted to do something nice for you that wasn’t at night.” He scoffed. “I was trying to prove to you that I actually did want to be your friend.” He tilted his head and nuzzled into your neck. “But really, it was getting harder and harder to see you in my place or yours without making a move on you, and I figured that if we were in public, it would be easier.” Humming at the feeling of his lips moving across your skin, you shifted your body, moving your hands to his hair and scratching along his scalp, closing your eyes.

“You kissed me that day, Billy Russo. So your plan didn’t work.” He laughed, nipping at your neck before he moved lower, tongue out and moving against your collarbone.

“Yeah, well, we got a good picture out of it… and I think that just maybe that picture was what got you to let your guard down with me.” You’re 100% right.

---

14 months earlier

“You know, you can walk next to me, you don’t have to pretend like we aren’t here together.” Billy’s voice was loud, and you immediately stopped, turning to look at him with a huge smile on your face. “I invited you here, I’d like to walk with you.” He made his way the final few steps to you, and you felt his hand brush against yours as you fell into step next to each other, making your way through the zoo’s walking pathways. It had been Billy’s idea to spend the day together, and he’d brought it up a few days earlier, via text.

After the night you’d spent drinking together - when you’d had to help him home and into bed because he got drunk - he’d gone radio silent for nearly two days. You’d talked the morning after, seeing the surprise in his eyes when he woke up next to you, still dressed in his jeans and you fully clothed, his arm tight around your waist. He hadn’t questioned you; you thought he’d been too embarrassed to do so, and so you hadn’t mentioned the conversation you’d had, or the look in his eyes as he’d asked you to stay. He’ll remember it on his own, or he won’t. You’d cooked him breakfast as he’d done his own version of the walk of shame to his shower, jeans hanging low on his waist, hair messed from pressing against the pillow.

Even as you cooked, you felt an ache in your heart, because there was something familiar about moving around in his kitchen, about taking care of him. You’d never admit it out loud, but waking up next to Billy, feeling his arm around you and seeing those eyes when you first woke up had felt right… and that’s why the friendship hurt so much. But it’s also why you need to keep it this way, you reminded yourself as you’d flipped eggs onto his plate and added two pieces of toast and some bacon. Anything else is out of the question.

He’d come out of the shower looking much better and more alert, and though he was casually dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a dark t shirt, he was all business, thanking you for taking care of him, for getting him home, and for making sure he didn’t pass out in the hallway or on the floor. Waving him off, you’d stayed long enough to make sure he ate while filling him in one some of the previous night’s details and then you’d left, giving him a quick hug. You’d waited to hear from him, and so on Friday night when his text had come through - ‘Busy Sunday? Wanna take you out and thank you for being so nice to me’ it was like a weight had lifted from your chest. You responded that you had no plans, but that it wasn’t necessary, and he’d sent back a short reply. ‘I want to. Be at my place at 11 am.’

And that’s how you’d ended up at the zoo with him on a chilly Sunday morning. He hadn’t told you where you were going until you’d arrived, and as you turned to him, a wide smile on your face, you’d seen in his eyes that your reaction was what he’d been looking for. “I know it’s a small one, but it’s close by, and since it’s cold, we can see everything pretty quick.” He actually thought this through. Before you could help yourself, you’d asked a question.

“Is this a date?” Though caught off guard, Billy didn’t flinch, shrugging his shoulders. You knew that if he hadn’t had a beanie on his head, he would have been running a hand anxiously through his hair.

“If you want it to be?” He sounded nervous, and so you’d smiled, ducking your head and stepping next to him as he’d walked to the ticket booth, paying for the two of you. The first few hours had been fun. You’d never been to that zoo before, and Billy pointed things out, talking about visiting with the Castles, about his favorite exhibits and about his life in general, asking you about your own past, too. The two of you had taken pictures of each other, enjoying the time you were spending together, enjoying the day… and it had been easy. You’d listened to every word he’d said, watched his every action with your heart pounding because as time passed, it felt more and more like a date. We’re out in the daytime. We’re doing something that’s not drinking or eating. This is… he wanted to spend time with me. More than once, he’d reached out to squeeze your hand, pulling you toward an exhibit, talking excitedly.

In the back of your mind, though, you were waiting for the other shoe to drop - for someone to recognize him, for one of his previous dates to call out… something, anything to ruin the time you were having and bring you back to reality… but it hadn’t happened that way. By the time you were in front of the grizzly bear exhibit, you and Billy had been laughing for long minutes, fingers twined together as you walked. It had been his suggestion to take a picture together, and you’d agreed without hesitation; after all, you had multiple pictures with your friends - how was one with Billy any different? Except you knew that you wouldn’t regard this one the same as you did all the others - no, this one was going to be special. You positioned yourselves so that the bears were visible behind you, and Billy had put his arm around your shoulders casually, pulling you closer to him. You could smell his cologne even through his jacket and you automatically wrapped an arm around his waist, getting closer.

It was easy. It was comfortable, and it was everything that you’d wanted it to be as you leaned into Billy, waiting for him to take the photo. “Alright, on the count of three, I want to see a smile on your face.” He was talking quietly, and you saw him looking down at you on the screen, biting his lower lip. “1...2...3.” His arm tightened on your shoulders and you couldn’t help but grin, staring at his phone. “One more.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop smiling, looking up at him and at the same moment, he looked down at you, a wide smile on his face. He got a picture of that, too. I know he did. You were right, of course, and as he showed you both pictures, you felt that same uncomfortable ache in your chest again. Friends. That’s it. That’s all we can be. “I like these. We look like we’re having a good time.” His tone was still soft, and you nodded in agreement, looking up to meet his eyes.

“We are having a good time, Billy. You should send those to me.” He tapped on the screen a few times and you felt your pocket vibrate as he tucked his phone away, taking a deep breath. “Thanks.” You were still facing each other, staring for long moments until he turned away, looking at the bears with his hands on the railing, gripping it tight. “So what’s next for today? We going our separate ways after this?” Though it was only early afternoon, you didn’t have any reason to believe he had anything else planned for you and so you were surprised when you felt his arm go back around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. Oh, OK….

“I thought I’d take you to dinner.” He paused, “If you want to go, that is.” All day with Billy? This is… this feels like…

“This is a date. I want this to be a date.” You spoke for a second time without thinking, looking up at him and finding that he was again staring down at you, hat pulled low over his brow. He looked young and vulnerable, his beard dark across his pale skin. “And if this isn’t, then dinner definitely would be.” There was another pause and the next thing you knew, Billy had removed his arm from your shoulders, turning to face you completely and angling your body to face him. That done, he moved both hands up to your face and leaned down, closing the distance between the two of you.

“I’ve been waiting since the first night we met to hear you say that.” There was no taste of alcohol on his lips that time, and there was no hesitation in the kiss, either. Your mouth moved against his with ease, and you stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of you. Billy deepened the kiss almost immediately, tilting your head to give himself better access to your mouth and you felt something shift between the two of you.

You’d failed at keeping things platonic with Billy Russo, but in that moment, you didn’t care. When the two of you broke apart, you were both breathing heavily - his eyes were wide and dark, and your lips remained parted as you stared up at him. “I… was that OK?” There wasn’t a hesitation as you nodded, fingertips moving up to touch his cheek, and he closed his eyes, licking his lips. “Good.”

You didn’t make it to dinner until much later that evening.

---

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