#but putting away my clothes? *dramatic death scene* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

69misato69 · 2 years ago

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entropy (diluc x childe) ✦ 4.7k

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childe and diluc are in the same division of the fatui + roommates. they are secretly in love with each other. childe is severely traumatized.

c: trans male childe, unprotected sex, semi-graphic depictions of past sexual abuse, unhealthy relationship with physical intimacy and self-image

top diluc x bottom childe ✦ angst, healing sex, love confessions

minors do not interact please and thank you. enjoy!

Another loud and lively group of drunk cadets stomped down the hall right by Childe with crates of liquor as he took off his shoes at the door and slid the key slowly into the hole.

It was awfully late, meaning that accidentally waking up Diluc would be nothing but a death wish. The walls vibrated softly with the sound of music, powerful enough to travel up almost four floors.

He took a deep breath and turned the knob to peek inside. The room was silent and tidy except for the bottom bunk that belonged to him. Clothes and accessories he tried on before settling on his current outfit were scattered over his pillows.

Diluc was facing the wall, so close to the edge that his wavy, red locks were draping off the short rails that encased the mattress. He shifted on the bed as Childe closed the door behind himself.

“Sorry.” he whispered apologetically.

“I’m awake.”

Diluc maintained his position, laying on his side away from Childe on the top bunk.

Childe let out a relieved exhale, “Oh, something wrong?”

“Not quite. Why are you back?”

“It’s my room too, isn’t it?” he chuckled.

“I’m surprised you remember.”

A snarky comment per usual, though laced with a hint of something unusual. Something that Childe couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn't anger but it wasn't adorned with kindness either. It rarely was, when it came to Diluc.

“I thought you would enjoy having the room all to yourself.” he nervously ruffled the back of his hair.

Diluc didn’t answer. The air was getting heavy as tension lingered between them. Childe was vexed, mainly because he was doing his best to stay off the floor for Diluc’s sake.

Not that he would ever scold him about it, but Childe always assumed that his roommate saw him as a bother.

He was messy and disorganized, much too loud for Diluc’s taste.

He talked in his sleep which was fine during training season because both of them would be passed out as soon as they came back from class, but they were on vacation. For the first time since they got assigned to a room together after being in the same division for years.

Childe was content at first, having a 'normal' roommate for once after all the unhinged crap he had put up with in the past, but he had soon realized that in this arrangement, he was the sloppy roommate.

Which meant that Childe was doing his best to stay out of his hair to the best of his ability during vacation.

It wasn’t that hard of a task since there were multiple parties on the lower floors every night.

“Why don’t you ever come out?” Childe asked as he took off his shirt, ignoring the sinister remark purposefully.

“I do, sometimes.”

“But, you always leave so early and you don’t talk to anyone.”

Diluc turned to lay on his left side, now facing Childe, half-naked and a bit below his eye-level, “It’s not exactly my scene.”

“Aww, do you get shy, firefly?” Childe teased with a mischievous grin.

Even in the dark, it was easy to spot Diluc’s dramatic eye-roll—

“Shut up.”

Childe laughed, he put on a flowy, white shirt and a dark pair of shorts, “Come on, get down. I’ll teach you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re not sleepy anyways!”

Diluc sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes and tying his hair in a low, loose pony-tail.

“You’ll leave me alone as soon as we’re done?” he glared.

“Yes, sir.” Childe struck an unserious salute, settling on the couch as Diluc followed his lead and climbed down without further protest. They sat side by side with Childe’s back straightened like he was seated on a bar stool.

“Okay, so just start out with a simple hello.”

“Hello.” Diluc sounded as disinterested as ever, uttering the most boring greeting possible. Though, Childe was far from discouraged. He cleared his throat and motioned with his hand for Diluc to continue.

“Do you… come here often? How come I've never seen you around?”

His heart wasn't in it, not even slightly. Renowned for his expertise in isolating himself from unwanted situations, it was strange that Diluc would prefer this over laying in his cozy bed.

“Ah, must be different divisions then.”

“Okay.” Diluc turned away.

Childe gasped, “Okay? No! Ask me if I like it there or some shit like that.”

Diluc shot him a death glare, its effect had mostly waned after months of living together, except for when he would be genuinely pissed off, which he wasn't.

“This is stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Come on, play along.”

“Ugh, fine.” Diluc’s back met the couch, “Do you like it in your division?”

“Yes, the people are decent, mostly. Some that I would call close friends, even. How about you, got any friends in yours?”

Childe was chirpy and energetic even while acting out a scenario, doing his best to keep the conversation going skilfully after years of practice.

“No.”

His partner, on the other hand, was ill-tempered enough to get to him.

“Hmph.”

Childe crossed his arms at his chest.

“What, hmph?”

“I guess it makes sense that you don't have any friends with that grumpy face.”

He sounded hurt, now facing away from Diluc but still staying put by his side. Diluc reached to hold his wrist.

“You should ask before touching them.”

“I'm not touching them, I'm touching you.”

“Then you should ask me, what's not clicking, Ragnvindr?”

Diluc nodded and let go. It had been long since he had experienced anything like this. Most of the time he would keep his mouth shut, and when his words stung, it would always be intentional.

“May I?” he requested kindly.

“Sure, if you apologize first.”

“For what?”

A frown formed over Childe's lips, hidden away from Diluc, “For being rude and mean and saying that we aren't friends just now.”

Diluc took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry. I know you’re just trying to help.”

In his own immature ways, Childe really was. He had never once stopped to think that Diluc’s loneliness could be out of a conscious decision. Maybe he chose to be alone, even though Childe simply couldn't fathom anything of the sort for himself.

He smiled and leaned back, uncrossing his arms to hold Diluc’s wrist instead.

“It's just about how you present yourself. Not that you're off-putting or anything but, you are a bit intimidating from the outside. But I mean, other than that, looks and all, you dress well. You're smart, funny when you want to be. Anyone would kill to have you, you know?”

Diluc turned to face Childe with a soft gaze as his fingers traced over the veins along his wrist, “Anyone?”

“Yeah, anyone!”

Childe didn’t seem to notice how his hand still lingered along his skin.

Diluc shifted closer towards him as their outer-thighs touched.

“Let’s keep going.”

Childe felt his heart skip a beat, unable to put his finger on the exact reason.

He shook it off, refusing to dwell on it further, “That’s what I like to hear.”

Diluc cleared his throat and picked up where they left off.

“Sure. I do have some friends. People from my floor mostly, and my roommate, of course.”

It was time for Childe to return the favor.

“Oh, must be nice. Mine’s a pain in the ass.”

Diluc couldn’t help but chuckle. He was relieved to see that Childe hadn't taken his remark to heart and instead teased him about it.

“I’m sure he means well.” he assured.

Childe let out a smug hah, “Well, I sure hope so. Because he’s stuck with me for two more years.”

He looked so—

Playful and full of life. Even more so than Diluc could recall.

He suddenly felt an aching in his heart. Gazing at Childe while they bantered, it was such an ordinary occurrence. Something that he never thought would miss, it was no different than having a glass of water or taking a nap.

Surely, your body would need those but you also wouldn’t miss something as fundamental and even mundane as that.

You wouldn’t look at your roommate with longing in your eyes or lie awake at night thinking where he is and who he’s with.

Yet, Diluc did.

He showed up at parties and tried to bear it as random people circled around Childe like vultures.

Diluc wasn’t sure if he liked it, or whether he liked it for the right reasons.

Regardless, it wasn’t any of his business. Usually he would stand in the corner and grit his teeth without noticing until his jaw would start to ache.

And then, he would leave. Hoping that Childe would be okay, hoping that no one would dare to exploit his kindness.

Hoping was all Diluc could do. He didn’t have the right to pry into anyone’s personal affairs, especially after being so secretive about his own ever since he was recruited, leaving his old self behind.

Yet he couldn’t get a good night’s sleep ever since vacation had started. Childe was more absent than usual, barely visiting the room for anything other than having a change of clothes or taking a shower.

Which is why Diluc, even though he seemed reluctant, had agreed to partake in this so-called practice.

It was the most he had seen of Childe in the past few weeks. The first time they had a conversation other than hello and goodbye.

He found himself fearing the rise of the sun. When the new day arrived, everything would go back to normal. He would read on his own on the couch that he now shared with his roommate.

Childe’s bed would be empty, his coat would no longer be hanging on the rack by the door.

The room would no longer smell like his shampoo, and Diluc would be all alone. Just like how he had always been. A solitude of his own choosing, having lasted so long that Diluc had never stopped to question what his heart truly desired.

“Sounds delightful to be stuck with you for two years.” he blurted out.

Maybe it was standing right in front of him, maybe it always did, veiled by his own obstinacy. Maybe if Diluc would ever set aside the hypocrisy that even he was unaware of, he could actually see that Childe wasn't the immature one of the two.

Childe’s eyes widened—

“Hey! Wait, you're kind of… That’s actually… good?”

He was oblivious to the fact that Diluc’s issue was far from a lack of experience.

It’s not that he couldn’t talk to people, not that he couldn’t flirt or pick someone up at a party. It was simply because he didn’t care for it.

He hummed, “At what point do you think a kiss is in order, since you’re the expert on the topic, apparently?”

Childe was grateful for the almost complete lack of light so that his rosy cheeks were concealed. A hypothetical question, yet it was enough to make his heart flutter.

“Well… Hmm… I’m usually not the one to initiate it but… It’s usually adequate, you know? Like you would feel that it’s…”

Words eluded Childe.

“The right moment?”

“Yeah... exactly.”

Diluc would never kiss him. It was okay, Childe didn't need him to.

“I see.”

Diluc leaned in, slightly. If it wasn’t for the rustling of his shirt, it wouldn’t even be noticeable. But in the dead silence of the night, Childe heard him close the gap between their faces.

He raised a hand to cup Childe’s cheek.

“Diluc?”

Even if he couldn’t see it, Diluc could feel the fire lit under his skin. Blood rushed to Childe's face as Diluc realized that he had never held something so precious before.

Pale skin painted with freckles and scars.

Warmth, a flame burning inside Diluc’s palm.

“What if I regret it?” he asked.

The look in Childe’s eyes was expectant yet confused. Mesmerized as the moonlight bounced off of the corners and crevices of Diluc's face, angular shadows dancing along his skin with every cloud passing over the crescent in the sky.

“I think… never knowing whether you’ll regret it or not is worse.”

Diluc smiled.

“I avoid parties for personal reasons, but also because...” his thumb brushed against Childe’s cheek, rubbing it with soft motions, “...I don’t really enjoy seeing you like that. You always look a bit...”

Childe’s heart was sinking all the way down to his stomach, a lump began to form on his throat upon hearing his keen observation. A bit what? Lewd, promiscuous, unlatched?

"Uncomfortable."

Oh.

“Do I look uncomfortable now?” he pulled himself together, leaning into Diluc’s palm as emotions he never knew to exist surged into his chest.

“No. Are you?”

He felt safe with Diluc. Life was cruel enough to teach Childe not to trust anyone the hard way. Maybe it was foolish, reckless to trust a man that hardly ever disclosed anything personal to him.

But Diluc had never been a stranger to him.

“No.” he answered confidently.

“Ajax, I think I like you.”

Diluc stated it as if it was a trivial matter, like telling him to fold his clothes or asking him if he wanted the leftovers. I think I like you, just like that. On a random night just like any other.

“You think?!” Childe’s squeaked.

“Yes. What do you think?” Diluc’s hand slid sideways, moving from his cheek to his hair with ginger locks wrapping around his slender fingers.

Childe had never heard a confession before, an odd one such as this especially.

Everyone loved him, but nobody liked him.

“You… like me?”

He asked as if it could be a joke. Someone, someone like Diluc especially, taking a liking to him was a possibility so out of touch that Childe couldn’t help but question whether he was already in bed, dreaming of the interaction.

“I said I think, didn’t I?”

Childe pulled away from his touch, “Well… Figure it out.”

He couldn't allow himself to get caught up in it, it invoked fear deep inside him when Diluc was unsure. If he were to back out, Childe didn’t want to be the one having to live with feelings that would never be reciprocated.

Love would never fade away from his heart, even when he wanted it to, even when the butterflies in his stomach would turn into sharp daggers piercing his insides. He would bleed forever with no one tending to his wounds.

Anxiety built up at his abdomen the more Diluc leaned into his face.

Until, his lips engulfed Childe’s, and the knot suddenly unraveled. It transformed into a bundle of joy and excitement as Diluc slipped his tongue inside his mouth.

Childe’s heart was banging on his chest like a caged bird, his eyelashes fluttered with each drag of Diluc’s tongue and each time he softly bit down on Childe’s lower lip.

He was tender, stroking his thighs and holding him down by the waist. Princely and courteous.

Childe felt like melting into a puddle at being handled so gently. Fingers riddled with scars, trailing their soft ridges along his ribs.

He moved over to Diluc’s lap and straddled his hips as a hand slipped under his shirt. Now no longer over the fabric, Diluc’s fingers traced over the healed scars, the two large ones under his chest, a relatively fresher one that had formed during their last training before vacation, as if to check if it had healed properly.

It was no wonder why Childe was so surprised at the thought of Diluc liking him when he shadowed his affection and care with his own stubbornness. Too prideful to even ask if he was okay, so consumed by trying to hold himself back that Childe apparently thought himself to be nothing but a nuisance in Diluc’s life.

But it couldn’t be further from the truth, because Diluc had always kept a watchful eye on him. Checking their fridge to make sure Childe was eating well on days he couldn’t scrape himself off the mattress, looking away because he couldn’t bear to see the grimace on his face as Childe would pull his clothes over poorly patched up wounds.

He would always make an excuse to clean them and stitch them up properly.

The disinfectant is expiring, or you'll stain the sheets with blood.

Childe swiftly rid them both of their clothes. Eager and slightly nervous, he latched onto Diluc’s soft lips every chance he got as their clothes piled up on the floor, all but Diluc’s underwear.

Childe eventually had to pull away, completely breathless and panting over the redhead’s face as he moved his hips back and slipped a hand inside the fabric.

Though he could feel him harden under his thighs the entire time, touching Diluc so intimately, being chest to chest as his warmth surrounded Childe, it made him tremble with zeal.

Diluc gazed into his eyes, moaning softly with every flick of his wrist, nimble fingers moving along his length as his thumb pressed into Diluc’s slit and elicited a hiss.

Childe pressed kisses on his neck and collarbones, intoxicated by the taste.

What was heaven if not Diluc squirming under him?

He retracted his hand and slid off the last piece of fabric keeping them apart. But just as Diluc’s hand traveled to his groin, Childe lifted his hips and swiftly lined up over his dick, dripping with precum.

He held Diluc’s hands and guided them to his sides instead as the redhead watched a tad bit cynically.

Childe spread his legs further and parted his lips using two fingers. There wasn’t much that Diluc could do except watch him take a deep breath and slide down. It was far from a smooth plunge, naturally since he hadn’t given himself any time to adjust.

Childe handled it like a task.

Pressure suffocated Diluc’s cock to almost complete numbness as Childe bit down on his bottom lip.

He was dedicated to take it all in as fast as possible, stalling would never end well based on his experience.

The affliction brought tears to his eyes, yet he sent them back and held his breath until he finally reached the base.

“You’re too tense.” Diluc held him close in hopes that Childe would look up at him. It was nothing but a futile attempt.

“You’re too—”

“Only one of those can be helped.” Diluc interjected. He tilted Childe’s chin.

It was obvious that he was struggling, a painful look had overtaken his face, and every time he forced himself down, Diluc could feel him clench tighter involuntarily. There was no way that Childe could be enjoying this, his insides being ripped apart, ruptured at his own will.

It didn’t sit right with Diluc, but he also had to consider the possibility that he could have reasons against someone else preparing him.

“Ajax, if you’re uncomfortable with me doing it, you should—”

“It’s not that.” Childe shook his head, “I can take it, no need to—waste time.”

He couldn’t help but whimper in agony, no matter how much he tried to muffle it.

Diluc slid him off gently and laid him on his back on the couch.

“It’s not a waste of time.” he brushed the strands of hair soaked with sweat away from Childe’s face.

His legs were now shut defensively. He couldn’t help but feel ashamed, as if he was ruining it completely. The one shot he had with a person he actually admired, respected and cared for.

Childe was used to doing everything on his own, yet such a stranger to feeling in control.

“You don’t have to—” he stopped himself with a pathetic crack of his voice as Diluc sat right where his bent legs ended, not laying a finger on him.

For once, Childe wasn’t something to be taken or owned, used up and discarded.

Diluc waited for him patiently, devoid of anger or frustration. He could sit with Childe all night, all day until he was ready to talk, until he was comfortable enough to go on.

Childe reached for his hand and placed it on his stomach.

Diluc leaned on his bent legs and rubbed his tummy lovingly.

The room fell to silence other than Childe's sniffles.

He shed his confidence along with the tears, and it shattered Diluc’s heart to see that deep within, there was nothing but pain and insecurity. Aimless attempts at pleasing Diluc with no regard for his own comfort.

Pure rage built up inside him at whoever was cruel enough to lead Childe to think that this was okay, that it was acceptable, how it was supposed to be when it was nothing but taking advantage of him heartlessly.

“So no one ever…”

“Not really, no.”

Childe didn’t have to hear the other half of the question. The answer was no to anything but what he had attempted to do a few minutes ago.

But, Diluc would. He would lay Childe and kiss him all over, toy with him with languid motions on lazy afternoons, fall asleep holding him in a loving hold. Diluc would make love to him the way he deserved, telling him about all that made him precious.

He was the only thing that made this shit hole bearable.

Childe guided his hand lower and parted his legs, still bent at the knees as Diluc sat in between.

He never had the chance to taste vulnerability, to revel in the freedom of allowing yourself to fall weak. To be exposed and laid out, it screamed nothing but danger to him.

Except this time, he didn't mind it as Diluc slid his finger along his quivering, leaking slit, drawing out needy moans with every circle he drew over Childe's swollen clit.

He spread his legs even wider, allowing him to slip a digit inside while it dug deep and curled against a spot that made him squirm.

And that's when it dawned on Childe, that he had never been pleased before. Instead of being catered to and taken care of, he was always, simply, used.

Childe was a fun time, nothing more. He couldn’t be anything more, he never had been for anyone.

Yet, Diluc pressed a kiss on his thigh and whispered softly, “I love you.”

This time, sure of himself.

“I’m—” Childe held back a moan, “—sorry, Diluc.”

“Don’t be. I don’t need you to say it back.”

Diluc retracted his hand, with Childe torn between disappointment and grief.

He laid next to his roommate, arms wrapping around him like vines.

“I want to… But if I do… It will be real, and then—”

Their faces were so close that Childe's tears dampened Diluc's nose as they ran.

“I don’t have anything else to give you.”

Unstable, unlovable.

This was his only asset, and Childe knew that it would never be enough on its own. Not when it came to him.

The limits of his body, it wouldn’t mean anything to someone like Diluc. Someone that seeks honesty and intellect, a connection.

What Childe failed to see was that they already had one that ran deep.

When had Diluc Ragnvindr ever looked at anything with so much love in his eyes as he did now?

“Breathe, Ajax.” he cooed, “I don’t need anything from you. This is not a… transaction. I need you to know that, okay?”

Childe knew it, as a fact, but deep inside his heart he didn’t. If it wasn’t a transaction, why had he been tearing himself to shreds all these years?

That was love, wasn’t it? When someone wanted you, when they wanted to lay with you skin to skin, it was how to be loved.

A small price that Childe would gladly pay if it meant allowing some warmth into his heart riddled with cracks and bruises.

A temporary vessel rented and emptied in hopes that maybe, one day, the numbness would free his soul.

“You’re perfect the way you are.”

Diluc held him close, one hand wrapped around his waist and the other carding through his hair.

His lips bloomed every freckle splattered on Childe’s face as tears streamed down his chin.

If it was love, truly, why had everyone sat idly by as he burned himself to ashes for years? Why hadn't anyone ever cared for his trembling hips and aching body?

Why hadn’t anyone ever held Childe like this before? Kissing him gently and whispering words of comfort in his ear.

It was odd, missing something he never even had in the first place. It felt strangely familiar, as if Diluc had always held him like this.

“Can you… try again?” Childe asked hesitantly.

He needed to know how it would feel, his body intertwined with someone else’s without sorrow suffocating his mind.

Childe was tired of mourning parts of himself that would never return.

Diluc sat up and parted his legs to settle in between them. His hands ran along Childe’s thighs, brushing against his clit and stroking his hips until he was leaking with lust again.

Diluc pressed kisses on his legs with Childe growing needy under his grasp.

And eventually, as his patience waned, Diluc positioned himself on top and slid in with utmost care.

Cautious not to sever anything, with gentle thrusts and coos, soothing strokes along his chest, words of praise dripping from his lips.

Childe was relaxed to his movements unlike before, he sank down on the couch with each thrust as Diluc held him in place.

“Is this okay?” he asked, slightly concerned.

Childe didn’t know what he wanted, how he liked it, what he enjoyed. Even when he was alone, day by day it was becoming harder for him to touch himself as well.

“A bit slower.” he requested at last, and Diluc adjusted his hips accordingly.

Slower, deeper thrusts so that Childe would feel his every move, every vein and curve along his dick as he brushed against his wall.

It seemed to be working wonders, judging by the way Childe twitched and moaned blissfully.

He cupped Diluc’s face and pulled him lower, claiming his hips in hunger and desperation.

Their hearts raced against each other, syncing their rhythm and meeting at where their rib cages kissed.

Diluc slipped one hand between their bodies to lap over Childe’s clit as he picked up the pace slightly.

Childe pulled away and raised himself on his elbows, faces still so close that Diluc’s warm breath hovered over him still.

He felt his lower body hollow out, clenching around Diluc. But right as he felt the beginning of a sweet and intense release, the haze was disrupted by a knock on the door.

“We’re going up to the roof. You coming, Ajax?”

Oh, he was coming alright.

“Go without me.” Childe hissed, vision going completely blank momentarily.

“You sure?”

Diluc held his limp body in his arms, struggling to hold back his own orgasm with the way Childe was so warm and tight around him.

“Y—yeah. Another night.”

“Alright, man. Suit yourself.”

Footsteps grew fainter as the group made their way down the hallway.

Childe’s back met the couch once again, now fully relaxed, loose and fluid.

“I should—” Diluc attempted to pull out but Childe drew him back in by his waist.

“It’s okay, go ahead.” he smiled.

Diluc had seen many different types of smiles on Childe’s face before.

A nervous one that veiled his insecurities and an unhinged, unforgiving one that only surfaced during combat.

A fake one for receiving compliments he was convinced that he didn’t deserve.

But this one, with his pupils bright as the stars above them, the outer corners of his eyes crinkled with rapture.

This was the most genuine expression Diluc had ever seen on his face.

For once, not plastered on forcefully, his lips were curved upward with true happiness.

It felt like a precious trinket from the distant past, like a tea set you would only take out for special occasions.

Except it was forgotten. Left to dust away for too long that even Childe didn’t know he still had it in him.

Adoration engulfed Diluc’s heart as he made a promise to protect that smile at any cost, as long as he would live and breathe.

#chiluc #diluchi #childe genshin impact #ajax genshin impact #tartaglia genshin impact #diluc genshin impact #top diluc x bottom tartaglia #genshin fanfiction #diluc x childe #diluc ragnvindr #tartaglia smut #diluc smut

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shegatsby · 2 years ago

Text

The Last of Us

Warnings; Post apocalyptic world.

Words; 3.894K

A/N; Hello my lovely readers, hope you'll like this chapter, I'm so sorry if there are any typos because English isn't my first language. Smut will happen on the next chapter. xxx Love you!

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Summary; Ever since childhood you had to survive, you were born before the disease so you kinda remembered what was it like, to have a hot shower, clean food etc. You didn’t know what happened to your parents because they were on a vacation and left you with your grandma who passed away during the chaos. You were 10 when it happened, a child who had to be a woman over night. What happens when you are a brink from killing yourself and find purpose again?

Chapter Six – Unsaid Feelings

It was a windy morning with dark clouds, as if the universe was dramatic enough to set the scene, Henry and Sam were dead and that was it. This world didn’t have a room for emotional release, you just had to keep going but the practical man Joel Miller came up to her and said something which surprised her, ‘’We should burry them.’’ Ellie was in an another room, but Y/N was sure that she was listening to them, Joel wasn’t a man of sharing his feelings or wasting time but there was a shift in him which Y/N couldn’t put a finger on. Y/N helped him bury their dead that morning, yes she got tired before the long road ahead of them but it had to be done. When they were done Ellie showed up to put the small device which Sam was communicating through on his grave. Y/N approached to see what she wrote and it said ‘’I’m sorry.’’ Which broke Y/N’s heart, Ellie was a 14 years old child, she should be at school or hanging out with her friends instead of experiencing death again and again. After that morning none of them uttered a word of either Sam or Henry, however their deaths weight on them.

It had been three months and in those months a lot of things have happened, they had to pick up winter clothes because of the change of season, the more they kept walking the more they were surrounded by forest which was a good thing because the infected were nowhere to be found but that didn’t mean that they were safe, people were a lot worse than the infected. Every morning Y/N gathered snow to melt on the fire and made them wash their faces, Joel and Ellie didn’t complain, after that they would walk for miles, sometimes Ellie would ask questions about how things used to be back in the day and Joel was happy to explain, Y/N could see that over time he got close to Ellie. When she looked from outside perspective they looked like father and daughter and the hard thing was that she didn’t know where to put herself in this new found family. Joel was really good at hunting, thanks to him they had meat every night, Y/N made sure to say thank you every night which didn’t go unnoticed by him, Joel was still surprise to see her so naïve and gentle. Back in Kansas City she didn’t hesitate to shoot someone to save him, she didn’t question him when he said that they should bury Sam and Henry, she was so strange sometimes and it puzzled his emotions. She was quick to accept his rules, Joel was hunting and leading, Y/N was gathering things like wood to make fire, berries etc. and she was so skilled at taking care of Ellie that Joel often found himself watching them interact. In her backpack she had a lot of things and Joel watched her brush Ellie’s hair every morning, she had nail clipper, tooth paste and tooth brush for everybody, she said that she picked those things for them when they were at Frank and Bill’s place. These things would have never came to his mind to pick because they seemed unnecessary to him, hell she even had toilet papers and magazines just in case. He liked those details though, of course he would never admit that he liked how attentive she was with them but it was entertaining to watch.

They were lost for sure and Joel was getting impatient to find his brother Tommy, when they saw a small cabin with smoke coming from its chimney Joel turned to them, ‘’They might be armed so I’ll go in first and see, later I’ll whistle and you’ll come. Understood?’’ Ellie and Y/N nodded and watched him leave, he first checked the windows but the curtains made it hard to see who was inside, and then he opened the wooden door and walked in, didn’t forget to leave the door open for them. After what seemed like a minute they heard the whistle, ‘’Get your gun out.’’ Y/N said to Ellie and together they approached to the cabin and what they found was a relief. There was an old lady who seemed nice, Y/N closed the door behind her, it was warm inside and well furnished, for a second she thought how would it be to live in a two store cabin like this with Joel and Ellie, always warm and relaxed. It was heart breaking to dream of things you cannot obtain.

‘’My husband will arrive soon, so sit and I’ll make you soup.’’ The old lady said, her weight made it hard for her to walk but she managed. Y/N gave a questioning look to Joel and he understood, ‘’We’re travelling and got lost,’’ he showed the map to the woman and asked few questions, she answered them without a beat which made Y/N think she was telling the truth. When the soup was done they sat on the table, ‘’Thank you ma’am,’’ Y/N said, she never underestimated the hospitality, it was rare these days, ‘’Ellie say thank you.’’ She whispered. ‘’Thank you.’’ She said shortly and together they ate, there was even salad on the table. After that Joel told them to go upstairs and wait for the old lady’s husband. After a while and old man showed up, his face was hard to read but it was obvious that they were older than Joel, ‘’Who the hell are you?’’ he said to Joel. ‘’Just someone passin’ through.’’ He replied holding his gun at him. Ellie and Y/N were watching from a corner, ‘’Why didn’t you shoot him?’’ the old man asked his wife with disdain. ‘’The gun is all the way over there.’’ Her response almost made Y/N laugh, she was a sweet lady and Y/N was sure that she would have never shoot them especially after seeing that they have a kid with them. ‘’He didn’t hurt me by the way.’’ Her sarcastic response put a smile to her and Ellie’s face. ‘’Yeah I got eyes.’’ The old man clapped back, Y/N wondered how would it be to grow old with someone, experiencing life’s burdens with them and having kids.. today she was dreaming a lot. It wasn’t good. ‘’You made him soup?’’ the man asked and rolled his eyes at his wife’s generosity. ‘’Yeah, I did. It’s cold out.’’

‘’I’m lookin’ for my brother.’’ Joel cut in, impatient. ‘’Well, I ain’t seen him.’’ The old man replied shortly, clearly he didn’t care. ‘’I haven’t told you what he looks like.’’ He answered, ‘’He looks anything like you?’’ the man asked, ‘’A bit.’’ Joel still didn’t lower his gun. ‘’Then I ain’t seen him.’’ That was his answer.

‘’He’s got his wife and kid with him.’’ The old lady said which made Joel look at the old lady in shock, well, they didn’t explain who they were when they barged into their house so it was normal for her to assume, for a second he felt a warm feeling in his chest, like drinking hot coco and watching the snow from the window with family. Y/N as also startled too because she could hear their conversation clearly and the fact that he didn’t correct the old lady made her feel a way which she couldn’t explain and the little devil Ellie took advantage of her shock, ‘’Can we come down?’’ she heard her ask Joel, ‘’No, Ellie!’’ it was too late, Ellie held her hand and pulled Y/N, she just had to follow. Together they went downstairs, ‘’What did I just say?’’ Joel was in grumpy mood, Ellie was holding her gun at the old man, ‘’Come on, they’re like a thousand!’’ Ellie said dismissively. ‘’Who is this little psycho?’’ the man seized you up, ‘’Nice family.’’ He said sarcastically, ‘’Never mind them. I need you to tell us where we are.’’ Joel showed the map to the man, ‘’If you got a map, why you lost?’’ he questioned, ‘’Must have missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest.’’ Ellie snapped back quickly before Y/N could shut her up, she was a lot more braver than Y/N or… stupid.

‘’Ho-ly.’’ The man and woman started to laugh together, ‘’We’re somewhere here. Exactly where?’’ Joel painted at the map for the man to see, ‘’And your answer better be the same as your wife’s.’’ of course he was threatening but Y/N knew he wouldn’t hurt these people… or would he? Back at the Boston QZ there were rumors about him and what he is capable of.

‘’Did you tell him the truth?’’ the old man asked his wife, ‘’Yeah.’’

‘’Are you tellin’ me the truth?’’ he asked again, ‘’Yeah.’’

The man reluctantly pointed a place at the map, it seemed like Joel trusted them enough to put his gun away, ‘’Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.’’ The way he spoke and sat on the green couch seemed almost defeated. It broke her heart. ‘’Hide?’’ the man asked confused, ‘’Came here before you were born sonny.’’ The man replied, Ellie sat next to Joel, Y/N sat on Joel’s left side, she did something she never thought she would, she touched his hand gently, which made him look up at her, ‘’We’ll manage.’’ She said quietly.

‘’We came here to get the hell away from everybody.’’ The man explained, ‘’I didn’t want to.’’ The lady replied sadly. ‘’Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother, but if you’ve come this far.. then you know what’s out there. You seen Cody?’’

‘’Yeah, got close enough. Its crawling with infected.’’ Y/N spoke, it was a miracle they got out of there without the infected hearing them. ‘’Laramie, and Wind River Reservation, anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.’’ The man explained with much softer tone, ‘’So you haven’t heard the name Tommy?’’ the thing about Joel was that he was persistent and Y/N’s hand was still holding his, he didn’t protest, her hand was warm and small in his. ‘’Nope.’’

‘’What about the FireFlies?’’ Ellie asked, ‘’We get those in the summer.’’ The lady said seriously, which was obvious that they didn’t know anything about FEDRA or FireFly, ‘’Not the bugs, the people.’’ Ellie said rather harshly, ‘’There are firefly people?’’ the lady asked confused, and then the couple laughed again. The man gave them directions and warned them about the river of death, he said there were bodies there both infected and normal people’s dead bodies. Before they left Y/N didn’t forget to thank them for everything and she closed the door behind her, watched Ellie steal two rabbits from them, ‘’Ellie!’’ she warned, ‘’put that back.’’ Joel said he was walking ahead of them, he stopped to hold the wooden log which was in front of him to catch a breath, or so she thought. When she came close it was obvious that something was wrong, ‘’Joel? Joel?’’ she said but obviously he had some trouble. ‘’Ellie stay back.’’ She announced and made him look at her, she held his hands, ‘’Deep breaths with me come on, you can do it.’’ Ellie didn’t understand what was going on but Y/N knew that Joel was having some kind of a panic attack. His chocolate eyes focused on her, doing what she told him helped him to breathe again. And they didn’t talk about his attack that day, or the way the old couple assumed that they were a family. Snow was everywhere and the more they walked the more it was getting hard to breath, she didn’t complain though, there were a lot of messed up places to be right now but the walk was somewhat peaceful. ‘’How old are you Y/N?’’ Ellie asked, ‘’30, why?’’

‘’What about you Joel?’’ she didn’t answer Y/N’s question, ‘’56, what’s your point?’’

‘’Wow, the age gap!’’ she sarcastically joked, Y/N and Joel were lucky enough to blame the blush on their cheeks on the winter breeze. ‘’Just thinking of what that old lady said.’’ Ellie finally spoke what she meant, ‘’Let people assume whatever they want. It’s easy that way.’’ Y/N was quick to respond, Joel didn’t make any comments.

It was getting late so they set up a camp in a cave, Y/N gathered wood to start the fire, she used to camp with her parents any chance they got so she knew what kind of berries to eat and avoid or how to start a fire. Joel took the rabbits that Ellie stole and skinned them, while he was busy she kept herself busy too. Organized her backpack and Ellie’s, it was a beautiful night, one could see the green northern lights, it was mesmerizing, Joel whistled for Ellie to come down, it was calm, they could hear the owls. Joel was drinking from his flask, Y/N was standing a few feet away from them still watching the lights, ‘’Can I have some? Just to warm up.’’ She could hear Ellie say and she immediately turned to see Joel handing the flask to her, ‘’Absolutely not Ellie!’’ her gaze made Joel pull his hand back, ‘’You’ll drink when you’re old enough.’’ Her authoritarian voice amused him, she had such a mom energy that made him feel warm inside, maybe it was the booze. Unfortunately Joel and Sarah’s mother were divorced and she was too troubled to take care of Sarah so she removed herself from them and Joel couldn’t bring himself to remarry and have Sarah a stepmom, well, back then he kept himself busy with work and never dated, things were moving smoothly with work, Sarah and Tommy but every once in a while he caught himself imagining a family life just like everyone had. It wouldn’t hurt to come home to a loving wife after a long day at work, to have family dinners and holidays together… he was yearning something he didn’t get to have when the world was normal but recently he kept having these daydreams, he felt like a pervert with sick fantasies but the things he daydreamed about were so simple which involved Y/N….

He came back to the reality with a question from Y/N, it seemed Ellie and Y/N were talking about what they were going to do after the Fireflies take her blood and make a cure, Ellie said she would like to go to the moon, ‘’What would you like to do Joel?’’ Y/N asked with a low tone, eyes dove, ‘’Its never been an option.. ‘’ he cleared his throat, he forced himself to look away from her because he was afraid he would utter the things he thought about her, ‘’Maybe.. and old farmhouse, some land.. a ranch.’’ He replied, ‘’Seems like an old person’s dream. What kind?’’ Ellie didn’t forget to give him hard time, ‘’Sheep. I would raise sheep. They’re quiet.. do what they told.’’ This tone was directed at Ellie, Y/N giggled and Joel hid his smile. ‘’What about you Y/N?’’ Ellie asked, ‘’I love gardening, not just flowers like vegetables and fruit. I know a lot about it so that’s what I would do.’’ She answered shortly, ‘’You two are such alike. You know what you should go to his ranch and live together, It would be romantic. I’ll come visit from the moon.’’

Joel and Y/N just looked at each other, neither of them could say anything, ‘’Its late.’’ Joel said changing the subject, ‘’I’ll take the first watch.’’ Y/N announced and stood up. She gave a forehead kiss to Ellie before she walked away and took Joel’s rifle, it was a habit of hers. Every night she gave Ellie a goodnight kiss and never forget to tuck her in, Ellie didn’t complain.

Throughout the night Y/N didn’t want to wake him up because he seemed tired so she switched with Ellie, it was about time to give her responsibility, of course under Y/N’s watch. Well, she knew Joel would be grumpy and angry about it but Y/N wanted him to be well rested. ‘’I’m responsible for both of you, okay?!’’ he said seriously, ‘’We’ll wake you up next time, come on,’’ Y/N gave him a cup of water to refresh, ‘’be quick.’’ There she was again, with her small details and taking care of them. Joel could feel a certain tightness in his jeans, she was attractive and loving. It had been a while since he tasted such warmth… he shook his head to regain conscious.

It was snowing when they passed a bridge, under it the river was frozen, she hoped that it wasn’t the river of death, but so far so good, no one was around. As usual their walk was quiet, ‘’What can you grow during winter?’’ Ellie asked Y/N, ‘’Kale, spinach, collard, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, kohlrabi, and leeks. Not to brag but I’m a good cook.’’ They were walking side by side, Joel was ahead but listening to their conversation, ‘’Sorry but I didn’t understand half of what you fucking said.’’ Ellie replied, ‘’Well, come visit our ranch I’ll cook for you.’’ Y/N said without knowing the fact that Joel was eavesdropping, the thought of living together made him smile, thankfully no one could see it. On their way they saw a dam, which made her wonder if there were people living by cause it seemed working.

‘’Wow, look at that river its crazy blue.’’ Ellie announced, she was right. Joel and Y/N were walking side by side and Ellie following behind, ‘’Hey guys, what if this is the river of death?’’ her question made Joel stop and look at the map which was in his pocket. She came close to look, Ellie’s suspicions came true because soon enough they were surrounded by people on horses, they had cowboy hats and covered the half of their faces with clothes, not to mention that they were armed. Joel held Ellie’s hand instinctively and so did Y/N, but they couldn’t escape, they were surrounded. ‘’Get behind us!’’ Y/N said to Ellie, hands raised, ‘’We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble.We’re just passin’ through.’’ He announced, ‘’Drop the gun.’’ A man in the middle said, he seemed like was the leader of his group, Joel dropped his rifle unwillingly, Y/N’s gun was inside her pocket which no one could see, if there was any trouble she had to be quick to shoot, Ellie had to take few steps back, it was the man’s orders. ‘’You been near infected?’’ he asked directly at Joel, ‘’There’s no infected out here.’’

‘’The hell there ain’t.’’ he didn’t seem to be convinced, the group had a dog with them, ‘’If you’ve been infected, the dog will smell it and he’ll rip you up.’’

Y/N could feel her heart go ice, Ellie was immune but they didn’t know if she had the virus in her, this was bad, really bad. Joel and Y/N looked at each other, ‘’Its okay.’’ She whispered when she saw how scared he was. This was the first time she was him scared, the man faced dozens of evil people and infected but didn’t show any sign of anxiety but right now he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

The dog smelled them first and they were clean and the man who was holding the dog walked to Ellie, Y/N closed her eyes and wished, wished that they would survive this.

She could hear her heart beating in her ears, the pressure almost made her pass out but when Ellie’s giggles were heard she sighed deeply, Joel was relieved too. When they turned to look Ellie was petting the dog and the dog was happy to receive the pets, wiggling his tail. ‘’What are you doing out here?’’ the man asked, the group still had their guns pointed at them, ‘’I’m just lookin’ for my brother.’’ A woman who was behind that man approached, she looked confident on her horse, ‘’What’s your name?’’ she demanded, ‘’Joel.’’ He replied. And that was it they didn’t exchange any more words, the group gave them two horses, Y/N was riding alone and Ellie was with Joel. They followed the group which let them to a town. The big wooden walls opened for them to enter, Y/N was shocked to see civilization again, she only knew FEDRA and what it capable of, this place was just like before the outbreak. Even though Y/N didn’t know anything about these people there was a sense of community here, she felt welcomed. ‘’Tommy!’’ she heard Joel scream and saw a man running to him, two brothers uniting again was a rare experience in this world, there were no planes, no buses and let’s not forget to mention the infected, despite all the odds Joel managed to find his brother and also kept them safe, he was persistent just like he mentioned back at Kansas City. A man of his word.

Tommy escorted them to a canteen, it was warm inside and yellow lights, the smell of delicious food, this was heaven. They were served like kings and queens. Ellie was eating without breathing, Y/N was more careful, she was still observing, when she realized that Tommy is watching them she kindly smiled. They weren’t alone though, the woman who was with the group was sitting next to Tommy. They seemed close, ‘’There is more if you need it.’’ The woman said to Ellie, ‘’Thank you ma’am. It’s been a while since we had a proper meal.’’ Seeing Joel trying to be kind was hilarious to Y/N, she nodded when he looked at her, ‘’Actually, I don’t think I’ve have had a proper meal, this is fucking amazing.’’

Joel and Y/N at the same time with the same rhythm warned Ellie, which made Tommy smile, ‘’Let’s mind our manners.’’

Ellie was right, the food was fucking amazing, and it had been months since they had warm meal. After few discussions they learned that the woman’s name was Maria and they were married. Y/N noticed the golden rings but didn’t want to assume anything, however Joel seemed lost for words when he learned the news, ‘’Oh shit, congrats.’’ Ellie said, she genuinely seemed happy for them, ‘’Congratulations!’’ Y/N was also happy for them even though she didn’t know them. They seemd happily married and most people didn’t get to experience that, still, Joel was silent and looking at Tommy with a shocked expression, ‘’Joel, say congrats.’’ Ellie whispered, ‘’Congrats.’’ He shortly replied. He didn’t sound happy. Tommy, in order to change the subject spoke, ‘’Maybe I should congratulate you too.’’ He gestured to Ellie and Y/N.

Immediately her cheeks got heated, this was the third time people thought that they were a family. Joel liked the warm fuzzy feeling of being a part of a family even though his face didn’t show it. Y/N cleared her throat but none of them said anything against it. Ellie was occupied with eating that she probably didn’t hear them, Joel and Y/N exchanged looks, she didn’t know what he was thinking but the fact that he didn’t correct Tommy made her feel like she belonged to something or rather someone… ‘’How ‘bout a tour?’’ Tommy was good at changing the topic.

Tag List;

@psychomanias

@stitchattacks

@anxiousbeech

@elmontsmile

@cheyxfu

@mushroomelephant

@avengersheart

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mothereliza · 6 months ago

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Restoration and Rebirth in Christ (Mark 5: 21-43)

In the season of Pentecost, we hear stories of miracles demonstrating Jesus' divinity. These stories point us to everlasting hope in the coming Kingdom of God, where all God's children are one.

The verses preceding this gospel tell us that Jesus had freed a man from a legion of demons. The people in the town drove him away because they feared his powers. He left and crossed over to Capernaum, where a crowd was waiting to see more miracles. And they did!

We may reach the limit of what we can endure in our lifetime. It's called "finding yourself at the end of your rope." Such is the story of two people—Jairus and the ailing woman—best known to us as ‘the woman with blood issues.’

First, let’s talk about Jairus. He runs to Jesus as his last resort with desperate pleas: 'My little girl is at the point of death. Come and heal her so she may live.'

As a parent, I can tell you that this urgent cry came from his guts. It's one of those times when you feel helpless – you are on fire, and you focus on one thing - survival; your only hope is a miracle, and you evoke the essence from your guts, like the psalmist when he prayed, 'Out of the depth of my heart [from the bottom of my heart] I call to you, O Lord! Hear my voice, and consider my pleas for mercy.'

Well, God heard Jairus' prayer. But God has his ways—so the scene changes. God hears another desperate prayer - a silent cry from a woman in the crowd who was also at the end of her rope. Like Jairus, she cannot let this moment pass her by, so she makes a deliberate and conscious effort to pass through the thick of the crowd, believing that a touch of Jesus' garment alone can heal her. She prays in hope, and instantly received healing.

Those words - "If I but touch his clothes, I will be well" - are more than words of hope or courage – they are words of "Faith" – faith is tapping into grace – an undeserved gift given to us by God.

The story is like a dramatic movie - the scene keeps changing. The news that Jairus' little girl's hope of recovery is lost brings Jesus' focus back to Jairus, who was totally in panic. But Jesus calms him down – "DO NOT FEAR - ONLY BELIEVE!" Fear creates a distance between us and God. The two stories remind us that Jesus is divine, and his authority is beyond sickness and death. The people in the story faced unfortunate medical diagnoses and declarations, the kind we pray never crosses our way or anyone close to us.

We all hope to live full lives, whether we are twelve or fifty years old. Jairus' 12-year-old daughter was in the prime of her life. For 12 years, another child of God was sick and isolated from society. She was so unimportant in the world's eyes that the scribes didn't bother recording her name. Jesus restored her shame and dignity and even called her "daughter."

So often, our cultures and opinions drive us to shun beloved children of God and unjustly treat them as "outcasts." We make them feel less human. (In the UAE, persons with disabilities are called "people with determination." How empowering!)

Until we understand God's ways and we learn to love God's children equally, until the whole human family is welcome in our communities and at the Lord's table, we who are Christ's body fall short of the Kingdom of God.

My friends, let us pray for God's grace to see the world as God sees it and for courage to put fear behind us so we can love as we should. May the Lord bless you with new mercies daily, grace, hope, and courage to face every trial, even at the end of your rope.

#episcopal

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itsytinyspiders · 1 year ago

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(Part 7)

What follows is Dudley Bale’s introduction scene. The man pops out of nowhere to greet William, asking if he’s gotten used to the university.

The stageplay skips right to the scene where Dudley “advises” William to not get in the way of the students’ fun.

I feel like this scene (except the end) is just a series of bullet points.

Dudley Bale presenting the Durham university life and the noblemen’s donations? Check.

William talking about his student Lucien and why he’s looking for the boy? Check.

Dudley reassuring William that Lucien is safe and sound? Check.

William expositing that Dudley owns not only a hospital, but many stores in town? Check.

I think that the obligatory mention of Lucien right in the middle of Dudley showing off the various facilities of the university makes the beginning of the conversation a bit awkward. In fact, having Dudley’s introduction right after Frida’s death feels like whiplash, given Dudley’s happy-go-lucky demeanor. I prefer the execution in the manga and anime, where we are already introduced to Dudley Bale’s suspicious character by the time this scene takes place.

Again, I always appreciate Louis’ added scenes. It seems that he’s getting information about Frida from last arc’s fruit too, which is a very nice touch.

For me, one of the most interesting parts about watching adaptations is how they tweak the timeline of the original work. In the previous scene, we can assume that William name-dropping Lucien during his conversation with Dudley is meant as both an excuse to exit stage right and an attempt to fish for information. Given that there was no mention of Lucien’s last name, Dudley assuring William that the student was recovering in a hospital (that Dudley owns) is suspicious – nevermind Dudley’s sudden need to introduce himself to William.

In this sequence of events, William has already pieced together that something was wrong, and the headline about Frida’s suicide seems to be another clue to this mystery. Since William doesn’t know about the connection between Lucien and Frida yet, he doesn’t have any reason to go to the bar himself, which is why he sends Louis off to fish for information on this separate case.

It seems that they decided to use the opium found in Frida’s room as the first link to Lucien’s case.

I feel like they’re putting more emphasis on Frida than Lucien by changing the order of events this way – Frida died, we are told about her opium consumption, we find the opium in Lucien's room, then we learn about her relationship with Lucien. While William’s reason for going to Lucien’s dorm is always the same, his interest in Frida seemed more to be in the context of his search for his student in the manga. But here, it seems that William was given both situations his attention, only to later find out that they are linked, which is more akin to our experience as readers.

Writing on the wall to emphasize that a character is reading.

One of my favorite special effects – I think I first saw it in the Death Note musical, during the song “Hurricane.”

I like how each of the tavern girls tells part of Frida’s story. It really shows how important she is to them.

On a side note, I mentioned earlier how making three extra outfits for Frida’s introduction scene might have been a bit much for the production team. But here, everyone is wearing a different top, and not even the outfit in the beginning, so…

I have to admit, Fred revealing that Lucien is in his cart made me laugh. Since it’s on stage, they needed the audience to actually see Lucien, but pulling him upright with dramatic lighting and sound effects? I guess that is suitably dramatic.

And then Fred just puts him back under the brown cloth and takes the cart away – I can’t lol

Our first look at the opium den – and Dudley’s role in this operation!

I suppose they opted to not include Dudley’s scene with Lucien in the opium den due to time constraints, thus making the opium den reveal scene also the scene where Dudley receives the telegram and threatening letter William prepared for him. It still makes sense, somewhat? After all, if we assume that this is where Lucien was being kept, then “he” could have sent the letter there. It would also make Dudley even more panicked – sending a threat to a person’s base of criminal operations instead of their home is much more threatening.

That said, William had little way of knowing that Dudley would be at this opium den at this time. Dudley does own many shops, so the likelihood of him having multiple opium dens is pretty high. It is, however, a very neat way to tie these plot points together.

Not much to say about the Dudley versus Lucien confrontation scene, other than that I’m a bit disappointed they didn’t include Lucien reading out all of Dudley’s misdemeanors. That information is the main thread of this case, and it’s the reason for Dudley’s speech to William in the beginning of this arc, about the donations and the students’ freedom. Hopefully, they’ll add that information in later, but given the structure of the play thus far, I suppose it isn’t really important.

Dudley falling on his ass here is *chef’s kiss*

Looks like William is really mad this time. He could have just used his cane sword, but nope, holding the man by the front of his shirt is the way to go. When Louis learns about this, he’s going to take out all the Good Soaps TM to clean William’s hands.

Can we also appreciate how unbothered Fred is by all of this? Now I’ve got a crackpot theory that the name “Frida” was chosen because of how similar it is to “Fred” – foreshadowing of this disguise, perhaps?

(Seriously though, Fred just hanging around, wig in hand, while the three people below are performing the climax of this arc is such a mood.)

Oh! And William does address Dudley’s list of wrongdoings here. I still prefer Lucien reading out the letter, since he’s one of Dudley’s victims. Finding out about the harm you were caused will always be more impactful than having someone else spell it out for you.

That’s not to say that William enumerating Dudley’s wrongdoings is out of character. Our protagonist is as theatrical as ever.

What's better than one Frida? Two Fridas!

If there is one thing I really appreciate about this arc, it’s the extensive use of Frida in so many different scenes. Her presence looms over our characters the entire arc, even during scene transitions. Even here, as Dudley dances with “Death”, Frida is dancing the same steps to further parallel their ends.

I will say, a shirtless Moran going past my screen was not on my bingo card. Moran’s glee as he shoots at Dudley from his moving platform is just one of those funny moments to me. The production did really well with this, with the props, the stage and the music – I just can’t take Moran in a bath towel seriously.

Double Frida’s again!

I feel like most of this reaction is just me obsessing over the various effects. I don’t watch a lot of theatre, so every time I do watch a play, I can’t help but gush over everything. There’s also a lot of comparisons in this review, by virtue of me having read the manga and watched the anime before this, but I hope that I’m not giving the impression that I think the stage play is the lesser adaptation. There’s a lot of things that can only be done in theatre, including most of the effects I commented on so far.

Speaking of which, Frida’s grave! (Though Moran’s comment about how Lucien bought Frida a good grave makes me go, “Yes! He even managed to buy a grave made of light!”)

I know that this is Louis on stage, taking away the flowers so they don’t disrupt the following scenes. But given the context of the conversation taking place above him and the fact that they deliberately kept the light for the grave and Louis in shadow, I would like to interpret this as Lucien visiting Frida’s grave. It also neatly ties into Albert reporting about the new type of opium on the black market, since Frida may be the most recently deceased victim of the drug.

And with that concludes the Dancers on the Bridge arc!

#morisute case 1 #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #the dancers on the bridge #morisute reaction

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hon1eblog · 1 year ago

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Life in Plastic: Growing up as a Barbie Girl in the Real World

“There’s nothing stronger than the connection between a girl and the doll world she made up in her head.” - Me, 2023

Barbies were a lonely girl’s favorite toy. I only played Barbies with one particular friend because we had a mutual understanding– she played with her dolls, I played with mine. It was all made up on the spot, but we had time to plan out bigger events and postpone things like weddings until the next time we saw each other. Neither of us would ever make each other do something out of character. It was like parallel play, but with a higher level of awareness. This is not to say if you didn’t do this you weren’t doing it right; there’s no right way to play. In fact, I’ve always thought I had done it wrong. I put too much time into my imagination, to the point where I’d obsessively think about my other worlds, taking me from the real one. If that sounds strange or scary to you, then this might not be the essay for you.

Barbies were my introduction to the conscious mind. It sounds dramatic, but I truly believe I became sentient when I was able to project my thoughts and feelings onto a piece of plastic and recognize that they were still mine. The dolls held my secrets to my universe, they spoke a language only I knew. The older I got, the more complex my playtime became and at some point I realized I wasn’t just playing, I was creating a storyline, a universe with laws and constraints[1]. My dolls had consistent characteristics; they evolved from husks into flesh cut from my own skin. Most were heavily inspired from movies and TV show characters, but soon took on a new shape. I had over fifty Barbies at one point and each had a name, a purpose, and a home in a giant plastic bucket. On very rare occasions were Barbies retconned, donated, or thrown out after being mauled to pieces by my dog. An arm or leg missing never bothered me much, as long as I could keep the story pushing. I was also only vaguely aware of what death and loss felt like; meaning, I didn't know how to play that out so it just never happened ‘on screen’. But I was so deeply attached that when it got taken away from me, I mourned the loss of the little girl in me. My childhood had been seized from me before I was ready to let go. Would I ever have been ready to let go? I played with them up until around 14, despite the subtle comments from my grandmother that I “needed friends my own age”. I had friends my own age, but they weren’t like me. They didn’t understand me, but Barbies could because they were me and I was them. I was always Barbie and Barbie was always me.

But this wasn’t just a long, on-going TV show I was producing in my head; it was a way for me to process things. I could act out scenes with dolls and not be misunderstood because I was in control of the narrative. I didn’t have to explain myself to my dolls; they knew what I meant the first time. And I knew who I was by looking at them— who they had become over the years. How their characters changed, how their hair length changed, how their clothing changed, how they were broken and put back together with tape. The stories got sadder, deeper, and harder to explain to even to my closest friend[2]They grew with me because they were an extension of me. I was always Barbie and Barbie was always me.

I was an existential kid. This is not meant to glorify it, I am simply stating what is true. I started dreading my birthday after I turned ten when I realized I would now always be in the double digits and probably wouldn’t reach the triple digits. I cried on my birthdays. I cried when I graduated elementary school. I cried when I graduated middle school. I cried when I graduated High school. I weeped when I graduated college. Growing older has always felt like a punishment. Each year had more growing pains than the last. Before I even knew women had an expiration date, I was terrified of running out of time.

I never felt like I was enough. I was never the best at anything. I was never known for anything. Maybe I was a product of my time, but with every passing year there was less of a chance of me becoming the “dancer/singer/archer/artist/respectable human that’s ONLY __ years old!” The older you get, the less impressive that statement becomes. I missed my window of opportunity to become a child prodigy. You don’t get on The Ellen Show by doing something that’s typical for your age. You don’t win America’s Got Talent by being ‘kind of okay’ at something. What value do I have if I’m just average? If I am just a background character in my own life, why should I celebrate my birthday? Why should I celebrate being a girl? Being a woman, of all things?

For a very long time I didn’t feel like I had a proper girlhood because I wasn’t into makeup, I wasn’t into boys, so I didn’t feel connected to my straight friends on the level they were (or at least pretended to be). I felt like I was doing something wrong or was missing something very obvious. Like everyone was a part of this secret club where they understood what being a girl meant. I only knew what being a girl meant in relation to what not being a girl meant— it meant being different from my brothers but not quite like my mom either. It meant being made from dust and ribs, being made to suffer for sins I had no part in committing. It meant accepting that as the truth and not complaining because that’s just how things are and I should be so lucky to even be allowed to bleed. Being a woman meant being in pain, being lonely, and not being able to talk about it. I want to talk about it.

But girls don’t want to talk about that at sleepovers. They want to talk about field hockey. They wanted to talk about boys that never even looked at me, never mind knew my name. They wanted to sing songs I didn’t know the words to by bands I didn’t know. They wanted to watch TV shows I wasn’t allowed to watch in my Catholic household. They talked about feelings that I couldn’t feel because I was made of plastic. But I could be anyone because I was no one, so I smiled and nodded along.

I knew at a very young age I was different, but not in the cool way that gets you famous. In the isolating way that makes you feel like none of your friends understand you. As a young kid I had lots of different friend groups because I could adapt and mold myself to blend in. I tried a lot of different hobbies; horseback riding, gymnastics, softball, band, drawing. I could be anyone I wanted because I was nobody. I remember sitting with my counselor when I was in middle school and telling her I didn’t know how to make friends because I didn’t know who I was. The most useless phrase in existence–“just be yourself!” isn’t helpful when you don’t know who you are or who you want to be. I’ve walked around my whole life feeling like a fraud, like a caricature of a real person, a star in The Truman Show. I wasn’t real, and none of my friends were. Everything they knew about me was lies I sold them. Every conversation was one I rehearsed in my head hours before. I was made of plastic, my body hollowed out to be filled with whatever I could find to fill the cavity. I was entirely inhuman, only an alien pretending to be one of them. I was lonely and homesick for a place that didn’t exist. I was always Barbie and Barbie was always me.

Throughout my life, I have made art pieces depicting myself as anything but human because that's how I felt.[3] In high school I saw myself as my mental illness, as the representation of everything I would never become. I was spiteful, disenchanted, and convinced that I was disgraced by those closest to me. I destroyed everything I touched— ripping it apart with my hands so I could feel it between my fingers, because I needed to hold it to know it was real and not just in my head. I called myself a monster, a sinner, a caged tiger that would kill if given the chance. I could be anyone because I was no one, so I destroyed myself from the inside.

I cried watching Barbie because I saw myself over and over again in the faces of the people around me. The faces of the women around me who saw themselves in Barbie. Are we all so lost in this world that we need to be told that it’s okay to not know who you are? How badly have we been broken that we can’t imagine a world where we don't have to worry about aging, running out of time, deciding our careers? Are we destined to always feel this lost and disconnected from each other? Have I gone through life believing everyone else knew who they were when really they were faking it just as much as I was? Have they always been Barbie, too?

I left that theater knowing my brother did not feel the way I did. I know a lot of people don’t feel the way I do, and I wish I could be like them. I can never justify my desire to return to the earth and become dust and bones again; maybe in my truest form I’ll finally understand what it’s like to be a woman. Maybe I’ll finally know what the world expects of me. Maybe I’ll speak their language and know what they’re feeling. I’ll know the songs they sing, and the games they play, and I’ll be able to celebrate being a woman, celebrate my birthday without my tears putting out the candles. Maybe I’ll become human— not a monster, a sinner, or a caged tiger.

[1] I’d joke about being the God of my dolls, but my mom would never approve of the blasphemy. I hope she reads this and doesn’t blame herself for not playing with me. I hope she reads this and finally understands why I cried so hard and for so long when she gave away all my Barbies that day I got too sick to help run the yard sale. I thought maybe it was her way of punishing me for saying I would never have a daughter to pass them down to. I forgive you, but I still needed to write this. I still need people to know I am human underneath it all.

[2] Everyone wants a doll that looks like them. Maybe that’s why I used red and pink markers to draw lines on my doll’s legs. I don’t know how to explain that to people without them becoming scared of me. I was only 13.

[3] I still feel this way sometimes, but I don’t hate myself for it anymore. I think I am misunderstood in the way that tall people were mistaken for giants in the Bible, or hallucinations were mistaken for visions from God.

#barbie #the barbie movie #this is what makes us girls

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coolcattime · 10 months ago

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Unbanned from PSN (Note: if you do a chargeback they require to pay it back via buying gift cards, like scammers would) and my housemate was out so I played chapters 6 7 and 8 of Until Dawn. Chris and Emily are both dead, I got two of the last six achievements (all mystery man clues and shooting Emily) and here are my thoughts I wrote while playing:

Chp 6

- The ability to hit the completely calm deer is so genuinely funny

- Emily got a tiny relationship boost with Josh somehow and I have NO idea when or how

- Emily's actress is genuinely very good at portraying fear

- As long as you try to help Emily once, and her Matt's relationship doesn't tank which I think is a really nice touch for people since high relationship with Emily Matt will typically fire the flare gun

- I am so utterly lost on how Josh apparently did all these ghost effects and puppets, but it is so extra just to fuck with Ashley

- Chris is paranormal activity boyfriend levels of denying what the girl he likes is seeing

- Ashley and Chris don't actually turn the camera off, just point it away which is kinda funny

- I got Chris bonked on the head and that made me laugh ^-^

- There's no special reaction from Chris that his eyes are scratched out in the pictures, which is a shame (does anyone know how they chose which two are missing?)

- If you don't stab Josh he says "Good effort." I genuinely think that's cute

Chp7:

- The fact that Josh emailed Dr Hill about his plans is really interesting to me

- Sam is putting on normal clothes again and I'm weeping

- As a note: Chris should definitely still be very injured because you cannot fire blanks that close to your face, but I'll give the video game the dramatic moment

- Emily gets to do the most badass shit and everyone still shit on her so much

- Chris doesn't have any anger reaction towards Josh if he didn't hit Ashley (I guess that's the real bridge too far for the man)

- Josh has no questions where Mike came from or why he looks like utter shit.

- Honestly the Josh reveal is so good. I really like Josh as the not real villain that he is

Chp 8:

- As much as I'm iffy on the use of Wendigos as a monster the actually reveal with the Emily chase is so good

- I missed the fucking zip line and genuinely thought I would need to replay from this chapter for the Emily gets shot achievement and was almost so mad

- Despite having a full relationship bar with Matt, Emily still called him a sack of shit - fair, but a little weird

- I like the Stranger interacting with Chris, I think it's the best part of Chris in this game

- The small scene of Mike taking Ashley down to the basement after Chris' death (of which is three different versions) are all really good and I wish we explored the pair more

- All the scenes where the characters know more the more clues you've found are all really cool and I genuinely wish this was a thing in more games

- Emily had an unfortunate case of bullet in face (a shame because I love Emily but that achievement was missing AND my favourite ending is Mike getting framed for all the deaths), but I'd never actually seen the scene before. God, Mike so clearly just wants to protect everyone (I assume because of his failure with Jess (and also Chris in this playthrough))

- "Cree legend say the Wendigo grows from the bite of another Wendigo." Is this actually a thing that the game elects to ignore for the Emily bite thing? If so, that's weird (I did try to look this up, but all the sources are for pop culture which isn't what I'm interested in)

- "Chris was your best friend, yet you depised him that much." I don't remember if this is always there so just because I ranked Chris the lowest, but I think its cool of its from the ranking

- None of Josh's relationships go down from the prank which is genuinely very funny

#cat plays until dawn #gods my hyperfixation for this game is high #rip sams towel you will be missed 😭#oh and also the dead teens #(if i had the shot emily achievement i would've skipped emily getting shot at all by giving her the flare gun #but if she had to get shot might as well frame Mike for so the various deaths)

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colourme-feral · 3 years ago

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Inspired by this amazing post on the Rosewood Bangkok, one of the locations for the main family’s home,

I decided to make a list of filming locations I’ve found in Kinnporsche.

This is in no way completely accurate, nor complete.

- The boat where Kinn asks Porsche to be his bodyguard and Porsche jumps off instead

- The we’ve-got-company bridge

- Hum Bar (Yok’s Bar)

- Kinn running for his life before getting to Hum Bar (Yok’s Bar) and asking Porsche for help

(- Minor building cameo: the Atheenee Hotel, which is beside The Deutsche Bank building)

- Ferry pier first kisses

- Ending their first date at their first kiss spot + Kinn's first love makes his unwanted appearance

- Kinn and Porsche on their honeymoon in the jungle

- The quarry part of Kinn and Porsche's honeymoon (and probably the truck and not-Not Me jump)

- Entrance to the minor Theerapanyakul family's home

- Vegas tries to go on a date with Porsche but gets cockblocked

- The Theerapanyakul horny jail

- Arm's work room, aka Team Porsche's HQ

- Porsche and Tawan talk about... milk

- The first bathroom Kinn and Porsche make memories in, together with Kinn's assassin

- Kimlock Holmes' home

-That first sex scene

- That auction

- Room where the main family strategises + the mafia prince declares his love for a certain bodyguard

- Kinn and Porsche play footsie

- The undercover casino scene

- Post-shoot out party at Vegas' home

- The back of Hum Bar (KP's first meeting & declaration of love + VP's meeting after Pete's escape)

- Their "mutual masturbation" scene

- "Jom" takes Kinn's watch

- The hospital, where Tankhun is iconic and dramatic, Kinn and Porsche are loving and Vegas, Pete and Macau have a group hug

- The underpass tunnel that Kinn and Big run to while being pursued

- Kim's personal rehearsal room

- Porsche's instagram boyfriend era + Kinn and Porsche's cafe date

- Mes' house + Kinn makes an animal friend

- Vegas and Pete's poolside scene

- Scenes at the fictional Ananthamekha University

- Porsche’s Mulan training sequence with Team Porsche + Kinn and Porsche’s underwater kiss

- Kinn and Porsche celebrate their relationship + Kim protects Chay who is in his unhinged era

- Kinn and Pete watch Porsche and Vegas zoom away on Vegas' bike

- Have no fear, Kimlock Holmes / Detective Wikachu is on the temple case!

- Porsche and Porchay's home

- The shooting range where Kinn made Porsche put an apple on his head to shoot at

- Mr. Don makes gelato talk with “People say I’m more like my mum” Kinn

- The iconic scene where Tankhun hits Vegas with a tray

- Either Pete needs more lessons on how to follow or Vegas and Macau just have great observational skills

- The minor family's torture chamber

- Tawan's room

- Porsche and Pete's bedroom

- Porsche and Pete's room minus their bedroom

- Porsche catches up on sleep during his training with Chan

- Porsche's orientation and introduction to the main Theerapanyakul's other bodyguards

- Vegas' clothing-optional office

- The minor Theerapanyakul family's home

- Kan getting ahead of himself and prematurely celebrating Korn's death

- Kinn and Porsche make merit together but are interrupted by a not so dead Tawan

- Part of the main Theerapanyakul house

- The room where Namphueng was kept (featuring the players on the chessboard)

- The one and only Deutsche Bank (Not my post)

- Jeff Satur's Why Don't You Stay music video

- Kinn goes to meet the loansharks, who were making Porsche pay back his (fake) uncle’s loans

- The finale scene on the boat with visual call backs

My alternate masterlist sorted by the IRL filming locations

- A quick wrap up of the locations that were not included

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche the filming locations #Thai BL/GL/QL location spotting

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huenjin · 4 years ago

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domestic disturbance.

summary — there's a murder in the richest neighborhood of seoul and there's no better detectives to find the killer besides you and bang chan. or, in which you and chan have to be a pretend couple to catch a killer.

pairing — bang chan x reader

genre — fluff, crime, smut | detectives!au, fwb!au, fake marriage!au

word count — 21k words.

warnings — mentions of crime, ie, blood, killings, (one line of) gruesome murder scene, language, along with a whodunnit plot, mentions of cheating (not the main leads), and smut | smut specifications under the cut

smut specs. — established fwb!au where they know each other's limits already, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, marking and hickeys, choking/asphyxiation, nipple play, breast play, sex in multiple places (on the table, against the wall, on the bed), blowjob, face fucking, deepthroating, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, cervical stimulation, edging, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, size kink. oh well!

note — this is part of the christmas collab i’m hosting with few other mutuals. i hated this fic and then fell in love madly with it, so yes, this is my baby. there is a plot and so it’s like 50% fluff, 30% crime and 20% smut, okay? i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i loved writing it! much love x

"Did I have to come in today?"

"Mayor Arsehole came in," you hear from the phone and you quickly hop off your bed, throwing the phone back on to the bed after putting it on speaker and rushing to the washroom to grab your toothbrush.

"What does he want now?"

You squeeze the end of the toothpaste carefully, pushing a good amount of toothpaste onto the bristles of the brush before shoving it into your mouth, brushing against the enamel of your teeth quickly and you rush back to your bed.

Chan, on the other end of the phone, plays with the pen on his table, clicking the piston on the top of the mechanical device. He watches the Mayor move his hands dramatically and the Captain trying to make the Mayor understand.

He gets back to you. Dropping the pen, he sits up straight, "Anyhow, come in quick. My gut tells me that they'll call us in, so make it quick. Wait—"

You rush back to the bathroom in a hurry, spitting into the sink and turning the tap on, quickly cleaning your mouth and your face, following a small skincare routine that fits your busy schedule.

"What?" You say after forever and Chan screams, "I knew it."

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yes," you respond, and pull your clothes up from your body and down by the side of the bed mindlessly.

"Holy shit," Chan laughs. "It's nine. Han's going to be so mad. He thinks you're in office already." You hear his chair reclining back and you roll your eyes. "Plus," his voice lowers and you stop in your tracks, hand midway to grab your faux leather jacket.

"What now?"

"I didn't even keep you occupied last night," Chan teases. "Imagine if I did."

"I'm hanging up, you bastard," you yell and Chan laughs, his laughter resonating through your small room and making you smile softly.

"Come quickly, little minx," and he hangs up. You hop back onto your bed, and pulling the pair of thigh high boots you always wear from underneath the wooden framing of the bed, you bury your feet into them and look at your phone.

Bang Christopher Chan is perhaps the only reason you are excited to go to work. That, and lying, murderous bastards.

Down at the station, twenty minutes later (still possibly the best record you've held so far), you rush into the office, heels clinking against the tiles and Chan's waiting for you by his cubicle, smirk prominent on his face and arms folded.

"The queen's here," he teases and you glare. Huffing as you pause right in front of him, you look over his shoulder to see the Mayor still talking to the Captain.

"I'm not late," you squeal, hitting the air in joy and Chan lets you have your moment before sitting back on his chair and breaking it.

"They called for us twice already," Chan tells you and you shudder at the impending doom. You can already feel Captain Han talking about cutting your paychecks for the month for tardiness. You sit on his table, one leg on the ground and the other dangling, heel slightly grazing Chan's black denims.

"What did you tell them?"

He picks up the pen and stares at you, clicking the pen. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the pen and mumbling, "Stop that, Chan. I've told you it's annoying."

"I do it to annoy you. That's the whole point," he raises his eyebrows obviously and you click your tongue against him and move closer.

"Now," you press on. "What did you tell Ji?"

"Oh, that you have diarrhoea?"

"What the fuck?" And you bend forward, hitting the built man before you, your fists hammering down on his hard biceps and chest. "Why would you say that?"

Chan raises his hands in defense, trying to block as many of your hits as possible. He whines, laughing amusingly at your reaction. He holds your wrists quickly to halt your actions and tugging at them, pulling you closer, he raises an eyebrow, "What else am I supposed to say? That you didn't come in yet?"

You gulp, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intimacy that you pull yourself away and sit straight, dangling your legs slightly. You tilt your head and look at him. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you say, "Valid point you make there, sir."

"When have I not made valid points?" Chan leans back on his chair, arms folded and he looks at you intently, his eyes staring into your soul and you raise your eyebrows.

"Wh—"

"The two of you," you hear the voice boom through the room. Chan and you turn your heads to look at Captain Han Jisung pop his head through the slightly opened door and calling the two of you. "In my room, now."

"Uh oh," Chan mumbles under his breath as he stands up. "Someone's in trouble."

"It's probably you," you glare at him. Hopping off his table, you stand firmly on your boots, tapping your feet slightly in confidence. Chan walks forward and you take longer strides to keep up with him.

"It could never be me. I'm the district's star detective."

"When hell turns cold, yeah."

You and Chan step into Captain Han Jisung's office. He sits behind the wooden desk and Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin stands next to him. The glass walls behind him show a clear view of the beautiful city of Seoul. You smile as you proceed to sit before the Captain, leg on top of the other. Chan sits next to you.

The pictures from a file are scattered all over his table, facing the two of you and your hand instinctively reaches out to grab one. It's a man's body — gruesome enough with the blood that covers it — impaled brutally on the sharp fence spikes.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up and he coughs in surprise. He looks at Jisung with disdain for a short minute before he says, "That is totally not helping with my holiday spirits, Han."

"Captain Han," Jisung reaffirms as he looks at Chan with a glare and gestures at how he should show him respect at least in front of the Deputy Mayor. You chuckle slightly under your breath before putting the picture back on the table.

"What exactly are we looking at, Captain?"

Jisung clears his throat and bends forward to explain, "That is Kim Jihoon. Or at least whatever is left of him. He was found like this today morning by his neighbour. Apparently he fell three stories from his balcony. Kim Jihoon is a data analyst in Samaun Tech—"

"And more importantly, a model resident in the UN Village community." Changbin is stern and his eyes pierce into both yours and Chan's soul as if it demands the two of you to solve the murder right this minute.

"UN Village?" Chan's eyes narrow and your head turns so quickly to look at him. Does he know of the area? "That's the new gated community down in the city, right?"

Changbin scoffs, smirk plastered on his face as he looks away. "Yes, Detective. It's one of the most luxurious communities in Seoul. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about it."

"Hey—" You raise your voice to come to Chan's defense. However, the man is quick himself.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I have an idea what it is like. Just a bunch of rich old men sitting with their glasses of wine as they are locked away from the city's woes by their big high walls. I have watched enough Sky Castle."

You laugh, eyes wrinkling in mirth as you hear Chan take offense. You raise your hand up and your partner claps at it, laughing with you. Changbin scoffs again before turning to look at Jisung who clears his throat to stop the two of you from laughing and to bring your attention back.

"I've brought the two of you in here because you will be investigating the death of Jihoon."

"But—"

"It's Christmas in a few days!"

"We're not in office, Ji," you whine. "Felix and Soojin would be taking our shifts for that week. You gave us the permission after the last case. Don't you remember?"

"Is that how much you care about the citizens?" The mayor shoots at the two of you and for a minute, you cower in your seat, before Chan looks at you worriedly as you recoil.

"Hey, hey, hey," his eyebrows furrow together in anger at the Mayor and you worry if Chan's going to completely lash out. He never did like Changbin in the first place. That and now this and you know this could end bad. "We care enough about the citizens. But look at you. The Mayor comes down personally to hand in a case only when it's some rich community. What? Do you have an apartment there?"

"While you think this highly of me, I can't help but humble myself here," Changbin slams his fist down and Chan rises up. Uh oh! The Mayor edges forward as he continues, "I am very much concerned about the city as well."

"Please," Chan rolls his eyes. Jisung is about to pipe in and stop the conflict when Changbin continues proudly.

"I'll have you know that the UN Village is one of the most exciting residential areas to live in, in Seoul and is one of the most beneficial developments made in a decade here. If it is successful, I can drive almost millions to the city through estate taxes and commerce. And must I remind you of how that is the biggest point in my political agenda—"

"Your political agenda!" Chan is at his patience's end and your arm stretches out to grip at his shirt, to pull him back from fighting but your partner is so caught up in his anger that he doesn't feel you pull at him. "Must I remind you that you are still the Deputy Mayor!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Jisung slams his hands on the table and you let out an exasperated sigh as you sit up straight. "This is a murder and I won't have the two of you argue over here. Deputy Mayor Seo, if you are done conveying what you came here for, I will have to ask you to leave. I need to talk and assign work to my detectives."

"Absolutely," Changbin smiles widely — almost borderline fake — before walking away and reminding Jisung, "I hope you remember what I asked of you, Captain." He bangs the door shut and Jisung mumbles incoherent words under his breath. Needless to say, it was safe to presume they were words hoping good will for Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin.

"Now the two of you," Jisung points at both Chan and you. He gestures at the built man to sit down. "You will be taking this case up. I will not have a word against it."

"But—"

"Unless you want your sex tape to be released and the two of you want to be suspended for indecent public behaviour."

"What?" Both you and Chan tell at the same time, looking at each other in nothing but sheer confusion and shock at the same time. It was clear that you and him have not made a sex tape or publically — fuck. Unless it is that.

"I mean, I was definitely not interested in seeing my star detectives getting on with each other in the evidence room." Jisung raises his eyebrows.

"Are you blackmailing us, Han?" Chan's tongue prods at his inner cheek in frustration. Today was supposed to be a good day, so he wonders why things are going down the hill.

"I guess." He lifts an eyebrow at you and you click your tongue before leaning forward and taking the picture.

"Fine. I'm in."

"I don't mind getting a copy of the sex tape," Chan mumbles and you hit your partner with your elbow over his nonchalance. You are not going to get suspended. It was too much for your reputation.

"Good," Jisung smiles. You stare at the picture carefully, looking at how the sharp spikes of the fence pierces into the man's abdomen, pinning him to the fence. Chan is about to take the picture from your hand when you ask,

"This could be an accident."

Chan takes it and looks at it before nodding, "Yeah. You know how rich drunk people are. They might have partied too hard and stumbled and fallen off their balcony."

"I thought that," Jisung mumbles before searching through the pictures. He lifts one off the table and hands it to you. "Until I was informed that this is the second murder UN Village has witnessed in less than a month."

The photo Jisung hands you is of a woman. She lies face down, her stomach pierced through by the sharp spikes of the fence — a bloody contrast to the fresh greens in her yard.

"Why am I celebrating my holidays like this?" Chan groans, as he leans towards you, his arms touching yours. He looks at the pictures and then at you for a short while as he watches you observe the photo carefully. The gears in his head are turning and his emotions are an array of mess but he reminds himself to focus on the case in hand. That is exactly what you would have wanted him to do.

"She's Yoon Yerin, who lived just up the street from Kim Jihoon. She was found like this two weeks ago." Jisung points out.

"Can't still label murder, Han. As Y/N said, it could be just an accident. They could be drinking red wine and partying, screwing each other on balconies. Hell, I'm surprised that only two have died so far."

You suppress your amusement and look at Jisung who explains, "I thought the same as well, detectives. The possibility exists—"

"Heh," Chan lifts his lips slightly and nudges you, almost as if he is telling you that the two of you have lesser work to deal with.

"—but there is also a chance of an exceptional clever murderer behind all this. So please," he turns to look at both you and Chan with an extra intimidating glare, "Look at this case with an open mind."

"You've our word," you smile widely, keeping the photos back in the file.

"Thank you," the Captain looks comforted. "I cannot hear more from the Mayor, I swear to God. Now, you'll go into UN Village and investigate these deaths as soon as possible."

"And?"

"If there is a murderer, you must identify him as discreetly as possible and if these are just accidents, uhm," Jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head, "We'll just put out a notice in talks of their safety, I guess."

Jisung stretches back in his chair, folding his arms and looking at the two of you proudly, "You guys are the best darn detectives we've got."

"Of course," Chan sneers. "Why else would you take our breaks away using some sex tape as some kind of blackmail? You're a nasty captain."

"He'll be forever salty about this, huh?" Jisung raises an eyebrow at you.

"Nah," you chuckle. "He's secretly overjoyed about being able to work during the holidays."

"As if!"

"We could just go now and investigate—"

"No, you cannot." Jisung sighs. "This is where I'm kind of helpless. The Deputy Mayor specifically mentioned how we are not allowed to poke around, cause chaos and make a scene."

"What? Why?" Chan slightly shifts in his chair, in agitation.

"It'll draw the media in like vultures."

"So?" You furrow your eyebrows. Why does this smell rotten?

"So, the two of you will go in under cover." Jisung smiles. "I doubt it would be an issue for the two of you."

"Undercover? Undercover as what?"

Twenty fours hours later, you are here.

A large group of suburbanites are gathered on a perfectly sculpted front lawn. They stand around the stainless steel barbeque rack and are talking. You gaze further, your back pressed against the big lorry that carries furniture to furnish the new house.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Chan sighs. He helps the man take out the sofas from the lorry. His biceps bulge and you smile, eyes lingering for a minute on the vein that is prominent over it.

"Please," you laugh, head thrown back. "When I said I wanted to get married, you were there in the list, yes," you tilt your head and snigger. "But you were definitely not my first candidate."

"Lies," Chan teases. "I was your only other candidate, work being the first."

"Don't make me throw this chair at you."

Chan laughs, taking the chair from your hand and walking back in to settle it down onto the floor. Your head shifts back to look at your new neighbours, two of them waving at you and making their way to you. Chan comes out of the house right then, watching the two walk towards you.

Chan bends down to the side to whisper to you, "Do we have to go speak to them? I—"

"Of course. We can't be rude to them."

Chan holds onto your arm, whining like a little child, "But why? I hate rich people."

"Because I'm your wife now," you scrunch your nose at the title. "Listen to me and go with the flow. Just remember that you're Bang Chan, leading specialist in maxillofacial surgeries, hoping to start over in this area of the city—"

"And you're my beautiful wife, my other half, Y/N," he lifts your hand after entangling them with his, your silver ring bright on display and he takes a step forward.

"Now let's go, honey!"

The other couple walks towards the two of you simultaneously, stopping midway upon reaching you. You tilt your head, shifting your gaze to a softer look as you look at the couple, before clutching onto Chan's hand a little tighter.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Chan. We just moved right next door."

The tall man with a hair messy on top of his head smiles, although it seems very superficial. Yet again, Chan did mention how rich people could never smile sincerely. He tells you, stressing every alternate syllable, "It's so nice to have you here, Y/N, Chan. We are so glad you could shift right before our Annual Holiday Barbeque."

He stretches his arms out towards Chan. Your partner heaves a huge sigh in silently before holding his hand and giving it a firm shake. The other man continues, "I'm Park Rowoon, the president of the local homeowners' association and this beauty here is my wife, Jieun."

Jieun's face contorts into a huge, gleaming and completely insincere grin. She holds onto her husband's bicep, fingers digging into the flesh, "Well, isn't he a dear?" She laughs high pitched. "It's so nice to meet you." She rushes forward to hug you, her arms wrapping around your frame and giggling into your frame. You hug her back, albeit awkwardly, laughing slightly at the gesture.

On the other hand, Rowoon extends his arms out to take Chan's hand in for a shake. The hand holds his, and squeezes it hard enough to hurt as he raises an eyebrow at him. Chan jolts in surprise, trying to squeeze back as he grits his teeth.

You pull back from Jieun and notice the two males holding each other's hands so tightly that it has turned pale. Chan does not seem to back out and rather squeezes back further every single time Rowoon's grip on his tightens. That is, until the older male pulls his hand back and looks at Chan, after shaking his hand a little bit, flexing it.

"You okay, baby?" Jieun rushes to her husband's side, and wrapping her arms around his, she just out her lower lips and looks at him with a dazed and madly-in-love look, "Are you hurt?"

"Nah," he pulls at the dead skin of his lips. "Just the old carpal tunnel acting up. Age, right?" He laughs, locking a fixed gaze at Chan and you quickly rush to his side, locking your arms with his as you laugh.

"Definitely. Don't worry about it. You still look as young and charming as ever."

Rowoon laughs before asking you, "So you're shifting right next door, huh?"

"Yes!" You lift up your lips a lot more than when you usually smile. "Did you see our moving truck? It was quite immediate but I'm glad. This society is so good and just right enough to start a family together." Chan's eyes widen and he looks down at you, nostrils flaring in surprise as he chokes on air. You stand on your toes, kiss his cheek before settling down and smiling at the couple before you. "I desperately want to."

Family? With you? Fuck.

"Y-yes," Chan's breath hitches and he gets the word out. He'd be down to start a family with you but how could he even suggest a relationship when you just look at him like a friend? A friend who you can come to when you're needy and sexually frustrated.

"My husband's very observant. He saw your truck the other day itself!" Jieun exclaims proudly.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the man. He doesn't already like him and one more wrong step and he is ready to pin some crime down on him. Rowoon is flattered by his wife's comment.

"I do like to keep a close eye on the neighborhood. After all, vigilance is the first step in ensuring a beautiful and safe community. Talking about which, I couldbt help but notice that you have a bird feeder."

Rowoon stares hard at the wooden bird feeder behind the two of you. Chan and you turn to look at and he laughs. You look proudly at it. A heirloom – almost – of yours, Chan (and Jisung) agrees to let you bring it with you. (They agreed to it when you explained how your neighbors hated you and they would harm it the minute you left sight of it for a long time.) You look at Rowoon with eyes so bright as you begin to explain. Your partner, on the other hand, arms still locked with yours, looks at you with stars beneath his eyes and you are responsible for them. It's admiration. Sheer, peak admiration.

"It's an antique, you know. My grandfather carved it himself out of—"

"Yeah, great, that's lovely." Rowoon cuts you off and the smile disappears off your face, your eyes losing their shine. Chan clutches his fists in anger, head shooting back to face the stupid old man for making his wife mad — his partner sad. The old man continues, "The thing is wooden bird feeders are against the UN Village Homeowners' Charter."

"They are?" You look back at the wooden bird feeder. You bite on the lower lip to hide your disappointment, eyes squeezing shut to hold yourself alright.

"I'm afraid so." You turn your head back to look at him. Chan quickly unlinks his arms from yours and you look at him, worriedly. Was he going to start a fight? Please, God, no. You glance in worry till he interlocks his fingers with yours as he holds your hand tightly. The warmth seeps through you and your lips pucker unknowingly at how comforted you feel.

Rowoon continues explaining, "They tend to give off a country farmhouse vibes and aesthetic which is not exactly what we are going for."

"I'm sor—"

Chan clicks his tongue, preventing you from apologising. He pulls you towards him, a little bit closer than the two of you already were. Your partner glares at the man before huffing out loudly and saying, "You run a pretty tight community here, Rowoon, don't you think? Respect the rules or you're out." Rowoon stiffens upon hearing the words before Chan laughs, stretching his other arm out to pat his shoulder. "I'm kidding. Just kidding."

Jieun steps in right then to smoothen out the tension as she claps her hands together, laughing, "Aren't the two of you the cutest? Are you newly weds or?"

"Yes. I mean, it's been a year, but being married to her feels like falling in love all over again for every single day of my life." Chan locks his eyes with you and you gulp. The words hit deep, so deep that you know you shouldn't be fluttered, or flustered. This is Chan. He couldn't be serious.

"Ah, so cute," she squeals. Rowoon looks at his wife with a raised eyebrow before looking at the two of you again.

"Listen. I've to go check on the grill and grab something to eat. You should swing by later tonight and meet the rest of the members of the society. I'm sure they'll love you."

"Of course. We do want to finish a bit of the moving in and stuff today and maybe put up the Christmas decorations soon, but we'll be there. Guaranteed." Chan tugs at your hands to pull you back. You nodded and waved at Jieun.

"Bye!"

Chan quickly rushes you back into the house before finally letting out a huge sigh. He runs a hand through his hair before letting his back hit the door. You look at him and giggle lightly into your hand.

"Don't laugh," he glares. "I swear to God, if I have to spent more time talking to Rowoon—"

"You're doing so well, idiot," you laugh, throwing your head back. "We just need to dig in a little bit, talk a lot and confirm that these were accidents."

"Y/N, baby," You breathe slowly upon hearing the term. A sure endearment that Chan has always used but for to hear it roll out of his mouth in places this homely felt different, made you feel different. "If I have to spend more time with Rowoon, I will come up with another theory and it would probably be a suicidal one."

"Don't screw this up, yah!" You hit the back of his head. "The last thing I want is a suspension just because I was caught fucking you in the evidence room."

"Like you didn't enjoy it," Chan leans forward, nose brushing against yours almost. You can feel his breath fanning against your face and the temperature rising. Your hands are firm on his chest before you push him back, fanning yourself with your hand. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before pointing at the boxes by the side of the door.

"Get to work, husband. We don't have time to waste."

"The pepper next to the salt, Chan. Why would you put turmeric there?"

"You'd be one whiny arse motherfucker for a wife," he groans and angrily shuffles the bottles in their right order. "Why are we even arranging all this? Let's just wrap this up in like two days and go celebrate Christmas back at the station."

"I'm not going to take risks. It's Christmas. I celebrate every single Christmas," You mumble. "At least the bare minimum. And if this Christmas has me celebrating it with you, I will. I will give you the best Christmas ever."

"I don't celebrate Christmas, Y/N."

You place the cutlery in the shelves. You leave the kitchen after finishing every single arrangement of the same. Chan follows you into the main living room. You stop in your tracks when you hear Chan say the words and you turn, eyes shooting up.

"Why?"

"Mum left dad in winter. Didn't feel right to celebrate Christmas when she was at home. It's a bitter memory for her, you know?" You nod, eyes looking at him with understanding rather. He sits down, lifting his legs up and stretching it over the table. Your eyes widen and you narrow at his legs.

"Feet. Off. The. Table." You glare.

"Why?"

"Because it's disgusting." You groan. You sit down by his side once he puts his feet off the table, huffing at you. He turns to look at you and you respond finally.

"Do you, maybe, want to celebrate Christmas with me this year?"

Chan's a romanticist (though he wouldn't ever admit it). He believes in how destiny is meant to unite two people like one magnet for another, one jigsaw piece matching just another. He also believes that you are something special to him because his mind worries over you, his heart gravitates to you in a crowded room.

Felix told him that it's probably just sheer concern for his longest partner ever. That your heart tends to feel weird stuff for people that protect you, for people that take bullets for you.

But today, right now, when you tilt your head to the side, resting it on your arm as you wrinkle your eyes in mirth and ask him, his heart skips a beat. Maybe two. He is lost in his thoughts, emotions on an overload and he wonders if you would ever see him in a different light.

"Chan?"

He snaps out of it. He laughs, almost at himself, as he runs his hand through this hair. "Do I have an option? Han made sure our Christmas would be stuck here."

"I'm the best option you have, dude. That, or it was you and your can of beer and your football marathon."

"Maybe."

You still, your head lifting up to look at him. Chan looks at you like he has so much to say to you, so much stuff that conflicts within him but words he would never say out loud. You wish he could. Your head turns to the small Christmas tree inside the house — bare, empty and green. The one extra along with the big one outside every house in the UN Village.

"We could start by decorating that. Yeah."

You hop off the sofa and rush to take the decorative goods from the suitcase. All on command from Captain Han Jisung, courtesy of the very same man who bought so many of the decorations. Chan turns his body, arms folded on the head of the sofa as he watches you scramble in search of something.

You take the decorative items out from the suitcase, putting it by the side as you search for something. Chan walks towards you, squatting as he watches you look before he holds your wrist and halts your actions.

"What are you searching for? I could help you."

"It's this bluetooth speaker I thought I brought," you shake Chan's grip away before undoing the zip on the other side of the suitcase. "I really thought I brought it. Shit."

"Hey, hey," Chan sits on the floor as he watches you. "It's alright. You can put whatever you want to put on the speaker. It'll be loud enough for the two of us."

You turn to look at him, before falling back on your ass and sitting. You fold your arms around your knees close to your chest and you smile, "You don't mind me blasting Christmas Carols during tree decoration time, right?"

Chan laughs at your innocence. Something so soft, so pure about it, about how you loved Christmas so much. He wants to hold you close — oh so close — the need almost overcomes him but he holds back.

"I don't mind."

"Yay," you squeal, getting back on your feet and rushing to your phone on the table. "I have this collection of Christmas Carols that we primarily put every year–" Chan watches you scroll through your music library to find the collection and he knows you have when your whole face lights up like the goddamn star on this awfully green tree. "Tada, it starts with my favorite carol, Deck The Halls."

Chan's never understood the hype around carols but for you, he will try today. You increase the volume to the highest, and place the phone back on the table before rushing back to Chan and the suitcase. Your partner takes the fairy lights in his hand and lifting it up, he looks at you quizzically.

"How do you go about this?"

"There's no right or wrong way, Channie. Trust me. We are all swinging it and hoping that it turns out right," you reassure. You take the fairy lights from his hold and stand up. "I can show you what my family does." You walk to the tree, about a good amount of inches taller than you still.

The carol plays in the background like some beautiful serenade wrapping around the two of you. Chan stands a step behind you watching you carefully wrap the fairy lights right around the inside bark of the tree and plug it in to the extension box by the side. The white lights flickered bright and shine on your face that is close to the tree.

Chan stares. He can't pull away. You hold his breath, captivate his gaze and have him completely enthralled. Your eyes sparkle — hell, you sparkle more than those stupid fairy lights.

He is so charmed by you that he doesn't realise how you've been trying to catch his attention for a while.

"Chan?" And then you hit his arm, the whole police academy teaching style. "Focus, will you?"

"Fine," and he takes one of the christmas ornaments, hanging them up on one of the spikes. "Is this how it is?"

"You're doing so well, don't worry."

And with the carols in the background, the two of you slowly put the ornaments up, laughing occasionally at Chan wearing the ornaments by hanging them on his ears instead. Another set of fairy lights are draped perfectly over the tree. The stockings are hung by the side and everything is exactly as you remember Christmas decorations to be inside and you realise it's not much different from the Christmases you usually have.

The tree is there. The lights are there. The desserts will be coming. The memories are still made and your loved one is still here. Nothing is different.

"Help me hang the star up," you look at Chan. He tilts his head to the side and his eyes fix on the battery operated star in your hand.

"Did Jisung really give us all that?"

You nod, "Yeah. He told us to sell the story well. Apparently movies lie and that rich people are not all that dumb."

"You sure?" Chan sniggers. "That dude we met there seemed pretty dumb if he wouldn't even let you keep your bird feeder over some stupid aesthetics."

"Don't remind me," you groan. "Now, come here and hold me up." You stretch your arms slightly and Chan's trying his best not to giggle at how cute you looked in the minute.

His hand is warm against your sweater, heat seeping through as he lifts you up, grip strong on your waist. Your legs intuitively wrap around his torso to protect yourself and you stretch your arms out. You try placing the star above and Chan edges closer to the tree when he knows he's a bit far off. You finally place it successfully above and switch it on. It lights up pretty and your heart warms up at the joy of completing the tree decorations.

And then, Chan suddenly jolts you up in his hold. You fall forward, arms wrapping around his neck and face brough so close to his that you can see the sparkle underneath his eyes that glisten for you. You stiffen in his hold as he wraps his arms around you tighter and in the very next minute, Chan's lips have found yours.

It's soft and gentle as it moves against yours, taking your lower lip within seconds. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion and the reconfirmation of million memories spent together. It moves so gently against his plump ones that you know you're drowning in everything Bang Chan is and that it's creeping — he is creeping slowly into your veins and contaminating your being to a point where it would hurt to live without him.

Chan holds you tightly against him, holding your entire weight in his arms like you are his whole world. His hands squeeze your waist as if he is reminding himself that you are still here with him, sharing this holiday with him. And when Chan pulls back, you realise.

In his kiss, you are home.

"Why did you—" You barely manage to piece words together with the help of your clouded brain. "Uhm, why did you kiss me?"

Chan blushes. The apples of his cheeks heat up at the sudden question and it surprises him how he could still blush at you after all this while. He looks behind you, trying to stall away some time from answering until his eyes land on the creeping mistletoe with white buds around.

"Mistletoe!"

"What?"

"Behind you," Chan points, holding you up with one arm wrapped around your waist. "There!" You turn to look behind, one arm still around his neck while the other is by your side.

"Oh, it's a mistletoe." You blush and look down at how Chan holds you up. "You could put me down now, Chan."

"Oh yeah." And he slowly lowers you down onto the ground. His cheeks are still stained slightly before he rubs his fingers, fidgeting with it and finally exclaiming, "Ah look at the time. We've got to get ready for taht barbecue shit they are hosting." He turns you around and pushes you to the room the two of you are sharing. "Hurry!"

You laugh, head still dazed over the kiss. It goes back and repeats it over and over again till you feel the temperature in you shoot up and has you wanting emotionally so much more.

After all, this was the first time Chan has kissed you like that and it did not end with sex.

The smell hits your nose before anything else. The smell of fresh beef being roasted and the toxic smell of rich people partying. Although you cannot quite exactly explain how rich people smell if someone asked you. They just smell. . . rich.

Dammit. Now you'll associate this fine rich smell of first class beef with stupid rich people.

"At least it's good meat." You mumble.

"That's what she said," Chan laughs at his own joke. You open your mouth in disbelief, nudging him with your elbow. Across the lawn, by the pool side of Jieun's lawn, you see her and a couple of other ladies waving at you to come towards them.

"I'll have to go over there. Anyhow, get as much as information as you can, alright?" You turn to look at Chan before walking backwards. "I'll come over soon once it gets too nauseating for me, please."

"Sure," he waves at you and you turn around and walk as elegantly as possible to the posh ladies sitting there. Chan, on the other hand, decides to head to the group around Rowoon that almost look like a bunch of Mayor Arseholes to him.

You walk towards Jieun who is sitting a hot tub. The hot tub bubbles and you raise an eyebrow at the amount of wealth this family has amassed over the years. A table full of snacks rests under a nice canopy and a very intoxicated lady sways from the left to the right by the side of it.

"Sookyung-ah," Jieun waves at the inebriated female, "Meet the newest member of our little neighbourhood, Y/N."

Sookyung is loud. So loud that you wonder maybe Chan is right about rich people — that they drink, merry and party all day long. She waves her hands, eyes blinking a little too much as she welcomes you, "Nice to meet you! Have a drink!"

She shoves a big glass of brownish looking liquor that reeks of rum. You take a sip of it courteously. The liquid flows down your throat, the burning feeling distinct on your throat. Your eyes wrinkle in surprise, "That's strong, whoa."

"Of course, darling, it is," she smiles widely and it should have repulsed you. However, it is the only genuine smile you have found in this whole neighborhood so far. Sookyung continues, "How else are we supposed to get through the day?"

"Is this how it usually goes?" You laugh nervously. "Us girls sneak off to grab a drink while the boys beat the chests out at front?"

"Ooh," Sookyung gushes. "I think I'm going to like you a lot, darling."

Jieun takes a sip of her orange coloured cocktail as she circles her glass lightly, letting the liquid shake inside. You tilt your head backwards, staring up at the stars only to notice how it is a full moon tonight. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you think of the one person you associate with the moon; your partner.

Jieun leans forward after placing her drink back on the table. She nudges Sookyung and raises an eyebrow at you, "Sookyung-ah, did you see her husband?"

You blush at the term. This will take a while to get used to. "Was he the tall, broad shouldered guy in the suit?" She hums in approval and your eyebrows furrow downward in displeasure. "Talk about a prime cut of meat!"

"I know, right?" Jieun giggles. "I saw him and started to drool."

Your cheeks heat up ridiculously. You can feel your heart beating a lot quicker and it is a weird sense of pride that swells up within you over a man you can't even completely call yours now. You fidget with your fingers, black dress riding up your thigh as you shift in your seat nervously, "I guess Chan is a good looking man."

"Chan? Is that his name?" Sookyung laughs, "That's an understatement of the year. I would wish to strip him down, slather him up with butter and just eat him up." Your face couldn't help but morph into one of disgust at her words. At this point, you are borderline disturbed.

"That's, uhm, very vivid thoughts you have of my husband."

"Ah, dear," Sookyung leans forward and holds your hand, rubbing it in her grip. "We were joking. But you must tell us—"

Jieun breaks her and smiles so wide as she looks at Sookyung, grinning and then at you, "What is he like in the sheets?"

They laugh together and you look at the two of them. So this is what a rich bunch of ladies too. Gossip and talk unfiltered. You had only two options at this point, or maybe three — a) stay quiet and let them do the talking, b) tell them off for talking about Chan this inappropriately, c) talk with them and get more information under the guise of being one amongst them. You swear to the heavens that you would rather do option b, but for the sake of this crime, you decide to do what Captain Han Jisung would have told you to follow.

"He's a fucking tiger," and you laugh the fakest laugh you could ever pull out, albeit not because Chan wasn't good in between the sheets or anything (he was an almighty beast with his technique, yes) but because you never thought you'd live to see the day you'd use words like that, in any situation at all.

"Called it!"

"Tell us everything!"

You take a sip of your drink and cross your legs as you sit up straight, almost feigning arrogance, "I'm not one to kiss and tell but let's just say that Chan makes me very happy about," you grin and pause, trying to catch the ladies' attention on every single word of yours, "Twice a day or so."

"Twice a day?" Sookyung gasps.

"If he's just very much in the mood, I know I'm not going to walk for days together. Not that that is an issue. Chan is the sweetest and takes care of me," you flutter your eyelashes.

Jieun taps at her chest, huffing, "Be still my beating heart. Be still."

Sookyung sighs, stretching back on the reclining chair, "These days, Ilsung and I get it on like once a month or so and that's like for a minute. How disappointing."

"They are newly married, Sookyung," Jieun stilts her head in acknowledgement. "It's been a year of their marriage or so." She takes a bite of the cookie from the plate by the side and you smile as she looks at you.

"It seems like you're all pretty open in this neighborhood," you point out and twirl a strand of your hair that lets loose before your eyes.

"Oh we share everything," Jieun says and Sookyung scoffs, before picking up a cookie and her strong drink.

"Some more than others." She scowls so visibly that Jieun has to furrow her eyebrows at her and signal something with her gaze before Sookyung looks away to the right.

The backdoor of the house behind opens and you turn to look at a lanky woman walking in with a tray of cookies. It is the same one that you have on the table already and you look at her. The glow on her face is long gone, her eyes losing the sparkle and you wonder if she is going through something.

Sookyung frowns and mumbles under her breath, albeit a bit too loudly, "Great. This party suddenly took a sip into Depressionville now."

You lean back into Jieun and mumble, "Who's that?"

Jieun leans into you and is about to whisper when Sookyung runs her mouth free, "That's Somin. An absolute downer."

You bite your lip out of anxiety, surprised by how Sookyung really does run her mouth a bit too much — a lot enough to cancel her off your list of suspects almost. Jieun hisses at the other woman before telling you, "Her husband was Kim Jihoon and he died yesterday so," she clears her throat, "She's quite rattled, to say the least."

"Then shouldn't she be mourning at her husband's house or funeral home for a few days? The fact that she's already here seems so crass." Sookyung shakes her head, disappointed. You gulp and watch the woman, Somin, come closer and Sookyung, folding her arms tighter.

The minute Somin is in your periphery though, both Jieun and Sookyung smile so brightly and that's when you realise that nothing you see and nothing you hear could be trusted here. It's the world of the rich and everyone wants to come out on top.

"It was so nice of you to come out," Sookyung waves and calls her closer. Jieun nods and you see how she walks slowly towards them, a sad smile on her face and her tray held strongly.

Somin speaks softly, almost as if she should not, "I probably should have stayed inside." She holds out her tray as she stretches her arms outwards. On the tray are many round cookies with cracked lines on their surfaces, a bit too deep than normal. They look sad. Just as their maker does.

You wait for the other two women to do something and when they take a piece of cookie, you follow suit and take one. The distinct taste of cinnamon fills your mouth and you hum in approval even if the cookie wasn't the best out there, "Ah, these snickerdoodles taste good!"

"Thanks, but you don't have to flatter me," she looks at you with a face close to no expressions whatsoever, "Whoever you are."

"Somin, this is Y/N. She's new to our neighborhood," Jieun says and Sookyung adds, "And she clearly knows her cookies."

"Thanks," you hesitate. "I do bake from time to time." And taking another piece of the cookie, you tell them excitedly, "Did you know that Snickerdoodle is derived from the term Schneckennudein, which literally means snail noodle?"

The three other ladies stare at you, blinking at what you just said in utter disarray and you sigh.

"I meant," You take a bite of the cookie, "Great cookie!"

"Yeah, great cookies, but," Jieun starts and Somin looks at her, pressing her lips together.

"But?"

"I said that I would be the one to make the snickerdoodles, but it's alright. We can have twice as many and can give some to our husbands partying over there. No worries."

"Oh, okay, I'll have to go," and she scurries away quickly. She barely shuts the door as she rushes out of the place almost immediately, her hair flailing behind her. You watch the woman, analysing how no one in the party seemed bothered by it.

Jieun sighs, "She looks bad, doesn't she?"

"If you ask me," Sookyung speaks loudly once again and you already know she's going to run her mouth, "She's better off with Jihoon dead. You should have heard the way the two of them used to fight."

"Were Somin and Jihoon having marital troubles?" You ask.

"Definitely," Sookyung leans forward, "If by marital trouble you mean continuous screaming matches blasting across the entire neighbourhood, why then yes!"

"You're such a gossip, Soo! It was not that bad."

"Says you!" She stands up and walks towards the bar counter, smiling and turning back to look at both you and Jieun. "More rum?"

"Yes, please!"

"Hey—"

It's the greetings and then a hand that trails far too low on your back. It grazes the curve of your ass and you quickly jolt forward turning only to find a man in his mid thirties in a suit, standing eerily close to you.

You narrow at him before asking, "I was searching for my husband. Pretty tall, broad shouldered, dark brown hair, slightly curly. Have you seen him?"

"You're Chan's wife? Didn't know he had such a beautiful woman for a wife," the man edges forward and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed at him and your hand trailing down to keep you ready to grip your gun. Until you remember that you're undercover and hitting this man with a gun would seem suspicious. Your best option was to deck him. The man takes another step forward and you take one backwards till your back hits the buffet table, "I'm Ilsung. Do you maybe want to go somewhere..."

"You have a wife and I have a husband," you spit out. You are mortified. So this is what Sookyung mentioned and the fact her very own husband is involved in illicit affairs — does everyone here have a mistress or is involved in adultery? Is that the rich people norm?

"So? Everyone here has an affair with someone's wife. Do you want to be mine? I can take care of you."

"I can very well take care of my wife, Ilsung. I don't think I'll need your help."

You hear the one voice you needed to hear in this very moment. You look over the older man's shoulder to find Chan, his hands shoved into the pockets of his formal pants. His top buttons are undone and the vest and suit fits him so well that you are glad you picked this one out for him. You shove the man away and walk to Chan, heels digging into the lawn as you strut confidently.

"I need the madam to say that," Illsung shoots and Chan's at his patience's end. He makes fists of his hands on either side of his and you hold onto his arms to calm him down only to look at the other man and narrowing your eyes, you scoff.

"I don't think I need to go have sex with someone like you when I get it well from him. That, and I guess, him being my husband should take more priority but not in this neighborhood where everyone breathes and lives on sex. So, no, thank you. I feel sad for Sookyung. She deserves someone better than a trash for a husband."

"Why, you bitch!" And he rushes forward with a clenched fist to hit you. Chan stops his blow, however, chuckling to himself.

"That's weak. Now, why don't you go take care of your wife while I treat mine like a princess? Yeah?"

And Chan walks away with his arms tight on your waist as he holds you close. Ilsung yells behind the two of you, his wife yelling at him to keep quiet. Chan, on the other hand, doesn't speak a word further, just walking you all the way to the house the two of you share, keeping you so close to him and glaring at the others to keep them away.

There are sighs and grunts, furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists as Chan argues with himself in his head all the way to the room the two of you share. He stands by the table, still lost in his thoughts and you almost pick up the book you're reading — one by Natsume Suseki — only to deck him with it, although you decide not to because he already seems ready to snap his control.

"Chan—"

Maybe your voice was the only trigger he needed to snap, to break away from his thoughts and to give them words out loud.

"You just stood there? Like some dumb doll when he touched you?" Chan glares at you and you frown, folding your arms over your chest and yelling back, "Excuse me, but I'm undercover as some doting wife to some stupid man."

"Did that matter then? Oh my god," he groans, throwing his head back. "I'm so mad and I know you're right. You are right but how dare he touch my wife when I was around. The fucking audacity—"

You hold the edges of the table with the base of your palm, pressing against it as you jump up and sit up on it to face him properly. You cup his face and making sure his eyes are fixed on yours, you smile softly.

"Don't smile right when I'm shit mad at everything, Y/N."

"Should I frown then?" You laugh out and push yourself back slightly to allow Chan to come closer and stand in between your thighs. "Let's think of this as some, uhm," you ponder, still holding Chan's face close to you, "Yes! Let's think of this as an occupational hazard."

"Occupational hazard," he scoffs. "Bullshit. He did that because he thinks women are weak. He's one of those arrogant pompous rich men that think that he can have his way with some good sacks of cash and power and that all women are weak and with that power comes his ability to subjugate them all to the age old tradition of treating them as sex dolls, an object for pleasure."

Chan's red and out of breath when he finally rants it all out and you bite your lower lip from laughing, dropping your hands from his face. Chan's cute. Oh god, he's so fucking cute and you know you shouldn't overstep boundaries but dear lord, if Bang Christopher Chan keeps this up, you will actually get down on your one knee, pop the ring and propose to him.

"Are you done?"

"No," he glares at you and leans forward, "Going to get back to work after this case and find some hell of a corruption case on him to put him behind the bars."

Your eyes wrinkle into thin crescents as you smile wide. You raise your eyebrows and suggest, "I've a better idea. Why don't you rather fuck me with all hat pent up frustration? It's a win win deal, if you think about it hard enough."

Chan leans forward, lips curving up into a confident grin, "Oh, I will. I intend to do both. Fuck this anger out on you and put him behind bars."

Chan's hands are big in comparison to your face. He cups your face, angles it and kisses you. His lips fit right into yours almost as if they were meant to be there for a lifetime to come. He kisses you and it's just as magical as always, laced with a touch of ardent need and passion. You needed him, you needed his warmth, his protection and everything he has to offer. His arms snake around your neck to grasp it and pull you in, deeper into him as he moves his lips against yours, softly at first till it turns into something so passionate that it would have your knees buckle, had you been standing. Chan is pressed against you, his white shirt, a size small as he likes it, clinging onto his body tightly (rid of the vest and suit in a moment of anger as soon as he walks into the house you share) and perfectly enough for you to hold his muscles.

You promised to yourself that you wouldn't fall in love, not after the shitshow of a marriage you saw in your parents. You promised that you'd keep your heart to self, that every individual in this world was brought forth as a single entity, so why in heavens did we go searching for others?

Chan makes you understand.

You understand now that promises are meant to be broken and as you gaze at Chan under his dim lights, his face so temptingly close to you, you are more than ready to break the promise you've made with yourself.

It has been written in the gazes already and as you lean forward, your fingertips tracing his jawline, Chan knows it because he meets you halfway, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer, your bodies touching and your lips on his, soft and testing waters initially. He pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours, angling your face to delve deeper into you.

He has his lips against yours, nearly knocking you off all the wind in your lungs. You sigh into the kiss, find your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body, your legs stretching by either side of his body. His hand sprawls over your neck, his thumb caressing against your jugular before pressing into the neck, rubbing slow circles. He kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his shirt.

In a swift motion, positions have changed and you're sitting on him whilst he props himself up on the table. He lifts you up slightly, pulling back and places you on top of his lap. Your rear falling into the depression between his thighs, rubbing against his groin slowly. He looks at you through hooded eyes, pushing your hair past and opens his mouth to speak before you voice out first.

He looks at you from below, your hair falling on his shoulder as you look at him, his head thrown behind as it rests on the sofa's ridge. And your lips find his again, tugging at his soft lip to let you through, to open up to you completely.

You moan into the kiss, your back arches and Chan's hand is still firm on it. He kisses your lower lip and your tongue brushes his lips in the impact, groaning at how he won't let you through a second ago and then, he lets you in. It's intimacy on a level you were slowly being prepared for. It's everything you remind yourself that you wouldn't break down into. Chan makes you feel special, with every praise, with every word he swears out to protect you. Chan reminds you of a feeling you had long forgotten.

Chan's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. Your head is thrown back at the sensation, your hips gyrating over his growing length.

His hand moves from your shoulders to your arse to your back after he seeks your permission as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and good lord, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smirks, the curve of his lips tugging upwards slightly and you think it's cute. You think Chan also makes you feel divine as he whispers into your skin like personalized love notes or small token of appreciation, "Fuck, you're hot. The most beautiful being I've ever seen," and that is all that is needed as you gyrate over your hips a little quicker. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

And you let him, just like you've already given him permission in your head to ravish you tonight, to take you to hell and back.

Chan cups your face with both his hand, holding you and watching your face shine in the dim gold setting of his room. Your cheeks glistened and your eyes sparkled but his eyes could not stray away from your lips — coral, swollen and so demanding. He pulls your face down, kissing your nose tip and then your philtrum before pressing his lips flat against yours.

His kiss is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, like a divine aphrodisiac. It makes you want to pull him in and suck the living hell out of him and yet it's lovely. It's precious and laid out well planned. His tongue licking your lower lips before entwining with your tongue as he pulls you closer into him, your hips lowering deeper into his covered length, panties sticking to the core from the sensations your body is responding to.

His fingers trail up your black dress, thumb grazing the skin slowly, bringing about goosebumps to the surface before they slowly move enough to rip your dress apart and expose you to him, in all semi-nude. You moan, before kissing him as you hold onto Chan tightly.

He makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to pull you down a lot forward and gladly welcome the movement of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses, those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs.

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bare bottom cheeks, caressing it over. You sigh contently. His hand trails upwards, touching, feeling you all over and you pull back, breathing rapidly as you look at Chan. The next second you are unbuttoning his first two buttons and prompting him to remove his shirt too. Your legs slide slightly dangling off his sofa before he pulls you towards him, his naked chest warm enough against yours as he pulls you back in to devour you.

"God, you're heavenly," Kiss. "So fucking heavenly." Kiss. "You're a fucking good girl." Kiss. "So good for me." Chan sucks a huge hickey into your neck — bright, dark and purple but it's how he worships and praises you that makes you want him more, your clothed core grinding on his enlarged bulge that is covered. The friction from the cotton of your panties and the cotton of his jeans slowly stimulates your core and you can't help yourself when your body is moving on its own accord on top of Chan, your hand moving your from falling back.

“Chan,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you for a minute. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing.

"Chan!"

His fingers move downward, grazing your skin by your stomach slowly, his eyes trained on yours as he watches you slowly break down. His fingers tease over your clothed mound. You bite your lip from groaning too loud but Chan's sudden tapping at your covered clit makes you yelp.

"Good girl. That's right. I want to hear your pretty moans," he kisses down on your neck, trailing and plastering wet kisses down your clavicle before sucking at the exposed skin of your breasts. "Moan loud for me, baby." He sucks at the skin by the crook of your neck, under your clavicles, above your breast and at the curves, leaving purple marks almost instantly thanks to your sensitive skin.

You can hear your heart beat quicker, racing against your chest and your thoughts drive you desperate. Pulling his face from your breasts, you kiss him, making the kiss deeper, licking his lip and grazing it with your teeth. You grind down on him trying to edge yourself desperately. You move forward to own every gulp and moan he releases and squirms in pleasure.

"I want you so much," you choke out. Chan's hand lets loose from your throat slightly and he looks at you with admiration, before gripping at the jugular, and caressing it lovingly, pressing wet kisses against it. You sound desperate, almost like you would lose your sanity if Chan doesn't make you his, this minute. "Please. Chan, please."

His hands trail downwards, thumb rubbing the skin on its way before he slips them under your panties, swiping his finger across your slit, feeling how wet you are. He groans out loud, mumbling, "What a doll. All wet and ready for me to devour. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Baby, wouldn't you?" He presses against your jugular with his other hand, tilting your head and gently choking you. Your eyes rim with tears in joy and you nod, "Yes, please."

His mouth moves over the skin at your breast, kissing it furiously. His tongue lapping at your nipple over your bra, slowly circling over the clothed material as he rubs his finger up and down your slit, occasionally rubbing against your clitoris. You press down and grind on him further, begging for more. Chan removes his hand from your neck and moves it up from your waist to your back and it lingers around the hook of your bra before snapping it open with a flick of his fingers. The bra slides off your shoulder and you throw it away, unbothered by where it lands.

Chan's mouth falls on your breasts, circling big with his tongue before slowly decreasing the radius of his turns and narrowing down on your nipples, sucking at them alternatively. You are moaning, holding at his shoulder and dragging your hips over his bulge in a slow, excruciating pace he has set with the drag of his fingers.

Your throat is dry from all this excessive want and you wet your lips, breathing coming out in hot puffs of air, rapid and shallow. The passion and want blinds you and Chan taps on your clitoris constantly with his thumb, using the other fingers to slowly tease your entrance over the panties but going back to sliding down your opening. You groan frustrated and grind down on his bulge trying to chase the feeling that is growing within you.

Chan's lips are all over you as you bite into his shoulder occasionally. It hovers over your neck and then your breasts, giving it all the attention as he plays with your nipples as he rubs you at a pace that quickens slowly. Your mind is boggled and you can't get your thoughts clearly.

"Such pretty breasts," he groans into it, his tongue flicking at it from your underside. "Such perky breasts. So beautiful and all mine."

Soon enough with his praises and the way he worships your being, the promise of an orgasm begins to manifest and build within you as a strong tightness within your lower regions, creeping into your abdomen, ever growing with every passing second. Chan's steady rhythm is strong enough to carry it over the edge with the friction you get from all the material and his bulge and as your climax looms closely, your hips rock and gyrate slightly against him. He pinches and flicks your nipples as he helps you ride out the orgasm, your eyes tired and hooded. You kiss him softly on his lips.

"Will you remove your lingerie for me, pretty girl?"

The order shouldn't have turned you on this much but it does as you hop off his lap, your feet unsteady on the ground as you balance yourself after your first orgasm. Your fingers are on the edge of your panties and you're pulling it down completely in the next second. Chan watches you steadily, his eyes trailing on your figure and you feel attended to.

"Jesus Christ," he stands up, the bulge moving slightly and your mouth dries up as it opens, wanting so much more. He holds you by your waist, petting your hair, mumbling, "I love when you put your hair down. You look like a goddess. A goddess ready to let go of your divinity all for me."

He unbuckles his belt as you slowly touch yourself, your hand moving down your body. He watches you, your thumb and forefinger playing with your nipples, tugging and pinching them till they harden under your grip. He removes his formal pants and his boxers, pulling it down and away at your request. Chan's length and girth has your eyes widening, as always, your tongue licking over your lips and you gape.

It's painfully hard and the tip is red, leaking with precum down his cock. Chan holds you by your waist and lifts you up, your knees wrapping around him and your soaked core on top of his hardened girth, occasionally dragging past it. He kisses your breasts, licking over the nipple and the underside of the breast, grazing his teeth over it as he walks you to what you had thought would be the bed. However, he stops midway, looking at you for a second before your back hits the cold walls of the room in this house as he holds you securely. You see the bed by the side and you smile. You drop your legs and stand on your toes as you kiss him, your tongue running over his buccal cavity.

Chan's hand trails down, circling by your waist before his palm hovers over your mound. His thumb brushes past your clit teasingly and your hand wraps around his neck, kissing him and biting at his lower lip till you feel the metallic copper taste of blood filling your senses.

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing you fold. He rubs circles into your folds, slowly dragging them out into waves and your hand flies upwards and forward to hold on to him for a grip.

"Chan," you rasp out, and he hums, removing your hand so that he can kneel down, kissing your thigh and biting it slightly as his thumb rubs against your clit and the other swipe against the folds. Your hands grip on his roots, tugging at it mercilessly.

"Baby, do something," you cry. "Please, I need you." Your other hand tugs at his hair, trying to bring him closer in a desperate manner. "I'll be a good girl. Please, do something."

"Should I?" he teases, rubbing small circles around your clit in an excruciatingly slow manner and you think — know — that Chan is going to drive you to insanity and how he'd pull one off his book and blame it on his instincts.

"Please, please, please—"

The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand pulls at his hair harshly as he sucks on your clitoris, his breathing fanning over you. Your fingers drag down and dig into his skin, unbothered by the possibility of cutting through it.

He presses his thumb on your clit after removing his mouth, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you're going delusional. "Chan, oh my fucking heavens."

He kisses your mound repeatedly, telling you, "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. I'll give you what you want, baby. I'll give you what you want for being a good girl for me."

Chan adds another two fingers instantly and you feel overwhelmingly full, crying out at being widened so pleasurably. The walls stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this brat being a good girl for me."

He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Chan slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily after being this around and pushes at it constantly. Your head hits against the wall hard and he looks upwards at you for a split second, worried, only resuming after you give him a signal that you are alright.

You feel the euphoric rush coming, creeping through from within and trying to embrace you as a whole and when it's very close to burst, Chan pulls his fingers away, licking them clean with a knowing smirk plastered on his face, for a second before thrusting them back in.

Chan pumps his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubs furious circles into your clit. He bites at your thigh, kissing them soon after, leaving traces of bruises near to your vulva. Hot, purple and sticky. He sucks on the skin deliriously, licking the skin to soften before grazing his teeth to oversensitize you. You feel the build up and you squirm against Chan, your eyes watering.

"Chan, baby," it's a sob that leaves you. "Please." You were so devastatingly close after your last orgasm, the balls of heels leaving the surface as you try to pull back but Chan pulls you down as he sucks on your clitoris and pumps his fingers in you in a ridiculously breaking pace and when you are so close to breaking apart, Chan drags his fingers away, licking and sucking at them as you look down at him.

"What the fuck?" You swear, frustrated, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Good girls don't swear."

"I'll blow you off well," you try striking a deal with him. He looks up at you amused, strands of hair sticking to your face from the sweat and he still thinks you're the most beautiful woman he has laid his eyes. "I'll give you one hell of a blowjob. Just please." Your voice breaks as you look at Chan, who looks so delectable at the minute with your juices staining the side of his mouth and his lips shining in the light. "You won't regret—"

His mouth is back on your core and you groan, "Ungh!" He mumbles, his warm breath tingling your core as he speaks against it, "Good girls don't strike a deal either, darling."

"But your good girl does," you tease and Chan's mouth is back on your sex, licking and teasing it. He grabs you by the calves, his blunt nails digging into the vast skin.

Without another word, Chan dives right into it, tongue darting out to lick a long, thick stripe from your center to your clit, causing you to shiver. Your left hand finds its way back to his hair after grabbing at his shoulder intermittently. Chan simpers to himself, overwhelmed by how well your body reacts to him and just him, your legs shivering and buckling, about to fall if it weren't for Chan's hands holding you up and pressing you against the wall.

You feel the thickness of his tongue lapping up your seeping wetness, which in turn causes a rush of arousal to leak and drip down your ass. "You're making a mess, baby," he chuckles, the laughter hitting your clit and sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his hair and you pull him closer to your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. He groans, hands gripping your thighs tightly, locking your legs in place.

Burying himself further, his tongue dips deep inside you, nose nuzzling and rubbing against your clit with every thrust. His eyes are piercing and fixated on the rise and fall of your chest as he looks up at you once in a while, seeing you tug at your lips, eyes closed and hand roaming around for support. He loves seeing you fucked out for him.

"Argh, it's fucking divine," Chan mumbles against your slit and the vibrations have your core clutching onto nothing. "This good cunt all wet and slickened for me, ready for me." You mewl, unable to stop yourself from wriggling within his hold, the grip on his hair tightening.

Your walls grasps around his tongue, pulling him further into you as he laps up every single drop of your arousal, passionate as if it were an aphrodisiac. One of his hands travels upwards to latch itself on your breast, rubbing the underside of your breast, fondling and gripping it hard.

“Chan,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling over the sensations that ride into you, toes curling. He responds to your calling, withdrawing from you slowly, by planting soft and gentle kisses to your inner thighs.

"You're doing great, love."

He sucks on your clit furiously and that was everything for you. You feel the same high building up at a pace quicker than you thought was possible. You feel it tightening, your core clutching onto his muscular organ as it tries indulging itself deeper, chasing after something it craves. His nose rubs against your neglected clit. He licks a stripe against it before sucking at it, teeth grazing at it sending tingle down your spine that has you hitting the bumpers with the heel of your feet. You are already sensitive from the last orgasm and all the teasing you had and with all this vigor and undivided attention Chan gives you, you feel it coming as he treats you like you're his only girl.

Your back arches more steeply, your mound hitting him in its influence, head hitting the wall lightly this time and your moans are louder, raspier and quicker. You are screaming out Chan's name as you see the stars under your eyelids.

He still licks slow stripes, taking in and devouring the rush of juice that squirts out of you. He lets you ride out the high and he lets you leave him breathless as his grip on your thighs do not ease away. Chan does not stop, even when you're a quaking, quivering mess, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes and it's almost bordering overstimulation. You can't think and you can't form proper sentences. He leaves you gasping for air, with something stuck in your throat preventing the passage of air and it's difficult to breathe in this rush and he makes it harder.

He looks at you teasingly and he lifts his hand as you bend forward to his kneeling self. He clutches on your neck, his fingers pressing against the side softly as he continues licking up your orgasm and blocking your air passage. You feel the stimulation rushing and concentrating and it's all too much for you. Tears stain your face and you're crying, "It's too much, Chan. Too much."

And he stops as soon as you say that. He presses soft kisses against your clitoris and he holds your hips tightly as he stands up. You've lost any energy in your legs you have and if it weren't for Chan, you'd crash.

He holds you by the hips and carries you, dropping you gently against the bed, your hair spreading and you kiss his shoulder. He caresses your face and tells you — it's a whisper almost — "I think I want to get to know you more. I think I—"

You bring his face lower to kiss him, preventing any other word to spill from his mouth that your head tells you to cancel. You are not sure yet. You hold his face down, devouring him as a whole, feeling his length slide your core draggingly and you groan into him.

You don't shy away from prying your hand down, teasing his cock as you rub your hand over the enlarged shaft slowly, teasing his enlarged red head, rubbing your arousal and the afters of your orgasm all over him, slowly stimulating him as you drag your hand down his length and back up again, letting go of his shaft only to cup his balls, trailing your fingertips around it. You let go and look at Chan.

"Lay back, please," you request and he pecks your nose as he pouts at you. God, he really really wants to call you his. Forever.

Chan lies back on the bed, his head resting between his pillows and yet he pulls his body up, supporting his weight on his arm. You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Chan, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Chan's hand falls on your hips naturally, helping you steady yourself.

Your hands rest on his chest, firm and broad and you gaze at Chan's cock for a while, it twitching with every unadulterated thought of his as he watches you on top of him, bare, exposed and unrestrained all for him. Your mouth is parched and your tongue pokes out through the seams of your lips, running across the expanse of your lower lip and wetting it.

"Fuck," he swears as his eyes move with your tongue, his chest rising and falling under your hold.

You reach forward to take him in your hand — the tip of his head looks so inviting that you couldn't stop yourself. Chan's hands roam up your arms, his thumb caressing the underside of your breasts before they play with them, his thumb and forefinger rubbing your nipple, watching it turn solid in his hold. He grips at your breast, fondling it and massaging it, stimulating you and bringing about a rush of confidence in you.

“You’re fucking large, fuck, fuck,” You yelp, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. You widen your mouth, stretching your facial muscles and Chan laughs.

When you look at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. At this moment, with you hovering over him, he can't seem to contain how excited he is, his length twitching in your hold. You begin moving your hands up and down his length at the same slow pace he had put through.

You lean forward, Chan's grip on your breasts tightening as he squeezes it. Your whines turn to louder moans of ecstasy. His one hand grabs your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail until he drops it and touches your face, "Ah, so beautiful. You're so perfect."

Chan watches you and is all too eager, his hand on your face trailing down to your shoulder, gripping on it as he continues caressing one of your breasts. The flat of your wet tongue sticks out to lick around the rim of his hot head. He fights back a groan, choking and sputtering, grip on your shoulder tightening as his blunt nails dig into your skin. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing it, which leads profanities spilling from his pretty mouth, even though it's a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath and you sigh at the thought your mouth wrapped around his pretty cock.

Chan inhales a sharp breath, swearing and uttering, "Your pretty mouth could take me so well, baby. So good." You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. Your tongue licks around the base, pulling up a fat stripe over the throbbing, prominent vein.

“Fuck, fuck,” Chan mumbles, shifting on the sheets, his hand gripping on one of the pillows. “Open wider, please, baby. You're doing so good. You're taking me so well."

You do as he has asked of you. Your jaw is already sore and the joints ache from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the bed in the slightest without your awareness; his hand trailing back to your hair and the other still on your breast making you feel good. His grip on your hair is strong as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth, your lips wet around his length.

You try your best for it to be pleasurable for him as your fingers tighten around his length before you start to twist your wrists — with a click of your gliding joint — and continue sucking. Chan is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Chan's eyes widens, the reaction from you exciting him as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He gasps, breath uneasy as his hand leaves your hair and trails behind towards your arse that sticks out as you try deepthroating Chan. He rubs your slit slowly and the unexpected contact pushes you forward, taking in Chan a lot more than you had planned, leaving him groaning into your shoulder.

He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused on making you feel calm too. Chan moves back and watches you taking him so well and he knows it's a sight to behold — your pretty lips wrapping around his length, taking him so well as if your mouth was made for him, crafted to perfection. His fingers rub small circles into your vulva, tapping against the clit accidentally once or twice.

Another gag rumbles out of you as you fight the reflex. The vibrations against his member is felt and he grips on your arse, pulling you into him, your nose rubbing against his pubis. Your finger trails the underside of his shaft before rolling his balls between your fingers. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision as you oppose your gag reflex, taking him as deep as you can.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of his bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs spilling through Chan's lips as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him. He also diverts your attention to rubbing you, now and again slapping your cheeks, eliciting moans from you against his girth.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you dig into the flesh of his thighs. Your mouth is stretched as wide as you can physically make it and tears roll down your cheek continuously, while you willingly take him completely in your mouth. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, enthralled to see the Adam’s apple in Chan's throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

Chan pulls your head back; his cock comes out from your mouth with a light pop followed by you gasping for air. Your eyes droop, your cheeks hollow and your jaws ache but everything counts to how hot you felt, to how hot the tension between you still is. His hand trails back to your hair, gripping on it and jerking your hair back so you’re forced to look at him.

"This is a fucking sight to behold. Look at you, darling," he groans.

Chan's thumb grazes your skin and he latches his lips onto yours in a sloppy, messy and wet manner and nothing else seems to matter other than your need for each other. You lean forward, tugging at his pinna as you bite down on it lightly, before mumbling, "I'm on top today."

Chan doesn't care because all he can focus on is how you said today, like this isn't just a one time thing. He gazes at you with such affection that has your heart racing telling you to let go of that stupid cages you keep around your concepts.

As your folds, dripping down with thick, sticky arousal coating Chan's cock with that and your saliva, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes at how his length stretches you out, your walls wrapping around him tightly. He holds your waist, helping you down on his length.

You rock your hips into him, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick cock. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate, licking your lips. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord. Chan's right hand rises upwards, massaging your breast, flicking your nipple and sending a rush down your spine, arching your back. His cock hits you at an angle and a soft moan leaves your lips.

Chan takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Chan,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and Chan lifts himself up to kiss you.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Fuck, Chan, oh my god, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock, gyrating around it and tightening your walls. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you, leave him trembling under your hold.

He groans, "Your cunt is so pretty. Look at it, baby. Look." He gapes down and you gasp, moaning quicker.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the third time that night, all because of this man. Chan's finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you going to come, baby?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes, please, please,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, please, please, you feel so good, Chan.” You lean forward and the motion causes him to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours, tugging and pulling at it and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Chan, fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to come soon. Oh my god." Your voice reaches a pitch higher.

“Then, come.”

Chan moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Baby, come all over my cock. You deserve that for being the good girl you are.”

Chan's other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find its place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke, gasping for air. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Chan's cock tightly, your hip gyrating around it for all the friction.

Your fucked out expression as you choke for air makes Chan plunge into you harder and you choke harder, his hips lifting up and thrusting into you.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Chan's sides, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you. Thick strings coating your walls till it seeps from your vagina and drips down.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He kisses your forehead and your hair, pushing it from your face. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side, the semen slipping out. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him, nuzzling into the sides of your breast.

In his warmth, with his arms over your stomach as he snuggles closer to you, you feel your eyelids heavy and fluttering shut. His lips are close to your skin, feeling his steady breathing and listening to it calms you down, steading you and increasing your melatonin, slowly drifting away to a state of peace, all in Chan's arms.

You stir in the bed, your hand reaching out for Chan only to feel the messy bed sheets and blanket. You wake up, brought to your senses well enough and you look around to find Chan only to see the light in the balcony turned on.

Putting on his white shirt messily, you rush outside to find Chan sitting and staring at the black sky. You sit by his side, shuddering in the cold and he looks at you fondly, cracking a smile.

"You're up?" You nod, teeth biting at the cold breeze that passes by, until you realise what Chan is staring at. It's snowing. It is the first snow in a long while and it's beautiful, albeit being late. He smiles at the purple mark that he has graced upon your skin. Chan stretches his arms out, blanket still in his hold as he offers to hold you close in this cold weather, to share his body warmth. He mumbles softly into your ears, "You should sleep a little more. It's going to be a tough day tomorrow. Aren't you meeting Jieun?"

"Yeah," you smile, watching the surroundings. "First thing in the morning. She seems to know a lot about everyone in this neighborhood. That, and I want to know why they treat Somin," Chan looks lost and you realise you haven't discussed it yet with him. "Kim Jihoon's widow is treated like that."

"I'm firm on this theory."

"What theory?"

"That Rowoon is the one killing people — bad homeowners — off because we'll, they disrupt his neighborhood. That or, they got drunk and it is still an accident."

"But Somin?"

"What? Anyone can be a bad homeowner! She's probably his next target." Chan chuckles and pulls you in closer. He holds you still for a while before he says, "We'll talk about the case tomorrow before you go to Jieun's. And you should clean up the mess of notes on the dinner table."

"You're the nagging kind of husband!"

"No." He is quick to deny. "I just like my house at least a bare minimum clean, alright?" You laugh out loud, falling into his hold as you try to contain your joy. Something soft hits your knees, barely visible but it settles softly.

Snow. It's snow and you see the snowflakes along with it. You watch them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. And it's beautiful. So beautiful that it eases you and has you snuggle further into his warmth. Enough to make you forget everything for a minute there in his arms.

"I like snowflakes," you say, your head resting on his chest. There is a certain intimacy in the hour, in his hold, in this weather and between the two of you. A certain intimacy to friends who only sleep and work with each other shouldn't have. Chan looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

You do like snowflakes. A lot. Each snowflake is like a sculpture made out of paper. Each has a unique identity reflecting a crucial passage in the chosen source material with an equal amount of complexity carved out of minimal space and in the end, it falls down before someone, lighting up someone and making them happy.

"It makes me happy. It doesn't have to fit in or match with anyone else and it still means the world to someone."

Chan smiles and you know it is clearly one of your most favorite things in the world, your solace. You find the happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. It comes from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. Chan makes sure it is like that, that the world knows when he's happy but wouldn't, when he is sad. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and I heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Maybe he'll teach you not to hold in your feelings. Maybe he will let you fall in love. All over again.

And you kiss him. It's short and quick, as chaste as the love you feel for him in this minute, in his arms. He leans forward and kisses you back and maybe, you both were snowflakes, as weird as you are, as unique as you — and yet the two of you make each other happy as corny as it sounds.

"Uh," Chan pulls back and rubs the back of his head and then his nape. "I—"

"Oh, a mistletoe, look!" You point and Chan turns back, frowning to look at the tree by the side with some creepers that crawl on its branch — creepers that were not mistletoes. You smile brightly as you continue pointing and Chan looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"That's not a mistletoe."

"It isn't? I thought it was. My bad!" You laugh, eyes sparkling in mirth and cheeks heating up in embarrassment over the obvious lie you said. You sit up straight and look up at the sky.

"It's a pretty night for whatever shit that went down today," Chan comments, staring at the moon. The moon is a warm milky glow in the sky, as if the sight of her could become a song in the eyes of anyone willing to raise their head upward. You were and you were going to seize the opportunity.

Chan's gaze is fixed on the big moon and your head thinks of him and the words from Natsume Suseki and every other anime you were forced to watch, thanks to Jeongin. In every black night, he was the spark that rekindled hope in you.

"Is there something on my face, Y/N?"

"No," You turn back, smiling, heart fluttering and your mind at ease. "Just," you hold your chest, feeling the beating of your heart louder than ever.

"The moon is beautiful."

It's small and fragile. Once, and then, twice, till it sounds again and again and again through the silent air of your house.

The knocking on your door is repeated and you turn to look at Chan who stirs in his sleep, thanks to the same sound. You shuffle in your bed, trying to go back to sleep, presuming it is an illusion and nothing more. However, Chan heard it too.

"Is someone…"

"I'll go check," you mumble, huffing and throwing the blanket to the side. Luckily, Chan's shirt covers you up to your thighs. You jump out of the bed and your partner decides that it is safe to follow you to the door instead.

You open the door and in comes rushing a little boy, aged not more than eight, with tear stains on his face. He runs forward hugging your frame in his reach as he cries out loudly. Chan looks at the scene before him in delusion and you relate.

Who in the world is this child?

"Is everything alright?"

The child continues crying into your frame, burying his face into your abdomen. Chan squats down to come face to face with the child. His hand carefully holds the child's back as he pats him slowly, letting him calm down for a while before he asks again.

"Where's your mum and dad?"

"Dad isn't home. M-mum is," the child hiccups, choking on his own sobs as tears roll down his face messily. "She's in the garage and there's blood around her head and—" He cries fiercely and you hold the boy close to you, heart heavy because you know the worst possible scenario. Death.

"Why don't you take us there, okay?" Chan smiles gently. The boy looks with teary eyes at him and Chan quickly lifts him up in his hold. "Come on. Let's go."

And the boy was right and his worst nightmare comes true. You cover the eyes of the child to prevent him from further seeing the horrendous sight before him.

Because before all of you was the body of Kim Jieun, sprawled in her own driveway, her head crushed to a pulp under her garage.

An overturned shelf, a couple of paint cans that look like they have been thrown and some blood splattered on the floor is all you and Chan find last night. That, and a woman's broken pastel nail extension.

You would have checked further had it not been for your undercover and that Chan had been getting endless calls from Mayor Arsehole. Changbin fumingly goes on about how he sent the two of you to put a stop to this but rather there's another case on his desk now. The man does not calm down even after Chan says that the two of you were definitely looking for a serial killer and that these deaths were not accidents. If anything, it upsets him further.

This morning however, the sun shines brighter.

Chan walks into the kitchen, looking for you, teasingly shouting out into the air, "Honey, what's for breakfast? Eggs? Bacon? Eggs and Bacon? Or maybe it's ri—"

Before him on your cluttered table of a case file, notes and photos of evidence lies a sad bowl of soggy cereal.

"Soggy cereal it is," he frowns.

"I made it though. It should count for something, right, husband?"

Chan grunts and sits down, spoon digging into the bowl of cereal as he takes his first bite soon enough. He glances over at the wall behind the breakfast table. You have mapped out the relationship between every single person in this neighborhood, affairs inclusive and Chan lifts his lips in pride.

"Someone has been a bit busy. When did you even sleep?"

"Didn't fall asleep. So I decided to work on this instead," and Chan realises you were not even kissing. Your eyes are grogging and your face is a lot gloomier even though you are smiling off the joy of mapping it all out.

"Did you crack the case?"

"As a psychological profiler, I can say," you frown. "I haven't. I just can't figure out the connection here. These murders were distinctly targeted, so, why? Why specifically these three people?"

Chan stirs the milk in his cereal before he looks at you and suggests, "Why don't you look for a common enemy?"

"Huh?"

"Y/N, babe," you blush at the nickname and try to zero in on the matter in hand. "I know you and I see way too many crimes on a daily basis because of our job and that makes you and I think that we are chasing after some blood sucking psychopath," Chan pauses and eats a big bite of cereal. He munches on it slowly, letting you grow anxious in waiting, "We may not be dealing with some headcase who likes to strangle old women with pantyhose. Maybe we are dealing with a good old fashioned murderer; you know, the kind that kills people because they pissed them off."

You look at the board, index finger against your cheek and your eyes widen. "You could be right!"

"Don't look so surprised also," Chan mumbles, finally finishing his cereal.

"It could work. Maybe what the victims have in common is their relationship with the killer." You continue to stare at the board. Chan cleans the plate in the sink on the other end, mumbling at you to keep calm and that you would crack the case with him soon enough. You sigh, "I don't have enough information to look for a common enemy." You tap on the first victim, Yoon Yerin. "Especially on her."

Chan folds his arm and stares at you. This look ok you is another one of Chan's favorites. You purse your lips, eyebrows furrowed together as you concentrate. Your eyes don't waver just like your heart in moments like this and Chan thinks he could fall even further for you, for your confidence.

"I'll probably swing by her place and see what I can find there. What's your plan?"

"Drop by at Rowoon's and find out where the fuck he was last night when his wife was murdered and his child was all alone." Chan stands by your side and you nod.

"Be home by 6:30?"

"Sure thing, honey," Chan laughs and he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a little while longer and you still, body heating up in his contact.

You nervously laugh, pushing him away slightly, "You're in character," You laugh again. "Method acting, right? that's good."

Chan looks away, avoiding contact with you and mumbling, "Yeah. Method acting."

He wonders how long he has to put up with this stupid method acting.

"Any luck?"

"Besides having Rowoon almost barf on my very nice dress shirt, no," you hear Chan speaking through the phone. You walk further down the neighborhood, lush green trees on either side. As much as you despised Changbin, you had to agree — the neighborhood is great. Just that it wasn't meant for people like you. People not rich.

"Do you want me to press a shirt for you?" You tease.

"Would my wife do that?"

"In your dreams," you roar in laughter. Chan chuckles on the other end of the line.

"Anyhow, Rowoon was out fucking one of his mistress last night. He's also pretty fucked up with the death and has not stopped drinking."

"He has an alibi?"

"Yeah," Chan sighs. "It's definitely not my homeowner's rage theory then."

You walk a little more till you stand in front of an unremarkable suburban house. You tell Chan on the other end, "I'm here. I'll get back to you soon. Bye," and hang up almost immediately. Quietly, you turn on your tape recorder and speak into it.

"184 Arbor Way. The house that belonged to Yoon Yerin, the first victim. Yerin lived alone which is uniquely for this predominantly family oriented neighborhood. That alone may have made her stand out and a target for suspicion."

You walk around the house, trying to look into it and around it, "The place is scrubbed clean. Whoever Yerin was, I'll have to find out from inside. The outside is scrubbed way too clean to get rid of any possible doubts."

You take a step back and look around to see if anyone was passing by, before you lay your hand around the door knob and try turning it. It's locked. You wonder if Rowoon had the key. Glancing around carefully, you slide a paperclip from your pocket into the keyhole and jiggle it once — twice, till the door opens.

You smile brightly, "Some skills are rooted, ha! Thank God, I dated that sketchy guy back in college."

You pull open the door. Inside, the house is spotlessly clean. Almost as if no one ever lived in it. Whoever cleaned the place did a thorough job, almost leaving it spotless. You walk around the house, looking into every corner and room there to find anything. However, you are left looking at nothing but bare floors, undecorated walls and sparkling clean surfaces enough to shine.

You turn to leave, sighing out an air of disappointment when a gold sparkle catches your eye in the light. You bend down and find a man's golden cufflink lying against the corner of the room. Taking a latex glove from your pocket, you pick it up and bag it in a plastic cover, hiding it in your jacket as you leave only to bump into Somin.

"Oh, Hey," you stammer.

"I don't mean to pry but did you just come out from Yoon Yerin's house?" She raises an eyebrow and you hesitate, fingers holding the plastic bag tightly in your pocket.

"No, no, I—" You sigh, looking down. Lying after being caught red handed is useless. "Yes. I'll admit that I did."

"What on earth were you doing there?" She asks and you realise that to anyone from outside, your actions seemed very suspicious — enough to blow off your whole cover.

"The thing is, Yerin, I was there because," you close your eyes and inhale a sharp breath of air, "I was there because I got curious."

"Of?"

"I just heard what happened to Yerin and I needed to come and see the house myself."

"What could you possibly look for?" Her eyes waver and she looks back at the house.

"Some signs maybe," you look back to follow her gaze, "Maybe a blood stain or something. I know this might come out as a bit weird but I have always been fascinated by macabre. I even listen to Stephanie Soo's true crime podcasts regularly."

She smiles fondly and nods, "I understand. To be very honest, I was fascinated by Yoon Yerin too when I heard of her death. I tried coming by to see what had happened. But now," she sobs. "Jihoon is dead and so is Jieun. They say that there is a serial killer on the loose."

"It's so sad that it happened in this neighborhood," you take a step forward, trying to walk away.

"I know, right? The whole point of living in a gated community is to keep the awful things out." Somin leans forward and puts her hand around your shoulders. "Look, you seem like a really nice person, Y/N, so I'm going to be honest with you. There is something bad happening here, something very very bad. Keep your head down till it's over. It's for the best."

Her tone is lower than ever and the advice sounds scarier than usual, something as if it were to warn you of an impending danger. You call Chan and he picks up quick.

"About pressing your shirt? I think I can do that. I have some pretty cufflinks to match them."

Later that night, you sit in your kitchen, the same board looming over you. You try to map out even more connections on your chart of suspects. The whole board is so covered with lines of strings that it almost looks like a spider web.

Behind you, the door swings open and Chan comes in, strides longer and quicker to take him to you as he screams, "Honey, I'm home."

You laugh, twirling in your rotating chair as you look at him and ask, "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Since we got this assignment. Of course, I mean," he tries putting a serious face, "It is sad that we were forced to do this by Han when he blackmailed us with that sex tape—"

"It's not a sex tape."

"The footings, but," Chan smiles widely, "It wasn't so bad to play house with you, Y/N."

"Likewise, Chan."

"Now, did you find anything?" Chan asks, resting his chin on your shoulder once you turn to face the board, his hand on your other and you freeze, surprised by the sudden contact, ironically. "This mapping just got messier."

"Yeah," you exhale and your shoulders slouch. Chan stands up straight as he tries to understand the board before him. "I tried mapping all the infidelities and affairs and this is what I got. A whole mess. It's all convoluted now."

Chan's eyes widen as he tries tracing the lines with his index finger before giving up. "Is everyone cheating on their spouses here?"

"Almost everyone."

Chan takes a step back, opens the fridge and pulling out a can of beer, he goes to sit on the sofa. You turn your chair around and watch him take a sip of it.

"Wow, you look as if you're right at home," you tease.

"There's space for two here," he pats the sofa by his side, and grins sheepishly.

You get up and take your own can of beer from the fridge, mumbling, "I can sure take a break," and walk towards him, plopping down by his side. The two of you clink your beer cans, the sound clattering through the walls.

"It's Christmas tomorrow, you know?"

You hum in agreement, "It's my first one outside home."

"I hope we can crack the case soon so that you can at least spend a few hours with your family on Christmas."

"Hey," you nudge his arm, "The thought of spending Christmas with you does not repulse me, okay?"

"I had not even said that," Chan gasps. He turns to look at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So does that mean the thought does repulse you?"

"Don't twist my words," you laugh.

"Do you want to get married?"

You choke on your drink, eyes wide as you look at him. He pats your back as he tells you to breathe slowly. You finally ask, "The thought or with a specific person?"

"Both."

"Yes, and no," you mumble. "I do want to get married once but," you look at Chan for a minute as he drinks his beer. "I don't think I have my feelings sorted properly to have the privilege to think of thoughts like that."

Chan leans forward, eyes dazed and fixed on yours. Has he always been this beautiful, this captivating? Has he always made your heart beat so much quicker?

"Do you think you'll ever be ready to sort them out?"

You sputter and choke again. Chan smiles again; this time however, it looked sad. He stands up, placing the beer can down on the table before. "I should get some fresh air. Take a stroll in the neighborhood and make sure nothing is going around, yeah."

You turn away, face too scared to look at him in worries of your emotions being transparent. "Yeah, you should do that. I'll get back to the mapping."

"I'll, uhm, I'll be back in a few." Chan rubs the back of his neck before quickly stepping out of the house. You sigh, head fuzzy with the overload of emotions.

He doesn't know you were ready. He doesn't know you wanted more. He doesn't know how you confessed that night to him in the moonlight. He doesn't know of how you feel, because of you. You never told him directly, always twisting your words and actions. If anything, you had no one else besides yourself to blame.

"Chan," you whisper but it's too late. He's out.

A step too late to realise as always.

You snap out of your daze caused by the overload of emotions. Getting up, you slightly slap yourself and mumble, "Focus. Back to work now." You reach out into your pocket and take the cufflinks to file away. You turn it around in your hand when it flashes.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," you zero in on the object in your hand. "I've seen this cufflink before." You rush to the board, eyes scanning the pictures to see where you had seen it when it finally lands on the second picture pinned on the board.

You had seen it on the second victim — Kim Jihoon.

"Oh my god," you sigh, hand limp on both sides as you realise you know who it is. You know who the killer is and you know her motive.

"I know the killer. It's Somin, oh my—"

"Clever girl," you hear the feminine voice from behind you. You spin around quickly, hand on your chest as your eyes widen to find Somin standing by the door with a huge butcher knife in her hold.

"It was you!"

"That's right. Me." She takes a step forward. Instinctively, you glance back across the living room to where your gun hangs in a holster, draped over the coat rack.

Somin takes another step forward, speaking, "Sweet little Somin. Fragile, pitiful Somin. Somin who everyone always thinks they can pick on, lie to and laugh at — Ha!" He leaps forward and wildly waves her knife. She yells. "Well, who's laughing now? Who's laughing now?"

You dodge back, repeating to yourself to dawn the fact that it is true, that, "Jihoon was having an affair with Yerin."

"That ungrateful, cheating bastard couldn't wait to jump into that slut's bed. So I showed them both," she laughs. "I showed them both well."

"That I can understand," you edge closer to the coat stand to try and get your gun. "But why did you have to kill Jieun too?"

"Are you kidding me?" She yells. "That bitch stole my snickerdoodle recipe."

You huff out in disbelief, eyes narrowing at her and eyebrows furrowing, "Ah, I see. You're a full blown psychotic."

"I was going to stop after her, you know? But then you had to go and poke your nose around in the neighborhood. Stupid bitch."

Somin takes another step towards you and you know you are still far away from your gun. She is now almost at an arm's reach and you take a step backwards instinctively. She waves her knife again and you dodge it carefully.

"Who are you, huh? A cop?"

"An NIS profiler actually." She looks lost and you sigh. "A cop, yes."

"Well, Y/N," she glares. "Do you know what I hate the most? Liars." Somin lunges at you, jabbing the knife towards your throat. You dodge to the side, neatly weaving around the thrust. Somin stumbles past you, knocking over a giant carton of cereal, spilling it everywhere.

"Argh," and she swipes again. You dodge nimbly to the side again. Her knife cuts through the air with an audible hiss and the adrenaline pumps into your blood from the fear. The knife hits the fruit bowl and sends bright red apples scattering on the table, over your notes.

"Well, well, aren't you fast?"

"You've no fucking idea," you hiss, taking in as much air as you can. You back up and feel the counter behind you.

"Enough talk!"

You gulp, gripping the counter firmly. Somin dives towards you, slicing her knife at you. You reach back and grab a heavy toaster. You pull it around and holdi it out in front of you. It crackles loudly with a hot, electrical burst.

"Fuck." Somin jerks back, as if stung, the knife dropped from her grip. The knife clatters to the floor, it's tip blackened from char thanks to the electricity. Somin steps away, clenching and unclenching her hand.

"That fucking hurts, you bitch."

You drop the toaster and step back, putting your hands up defensively in front of your face. You propose, "Look, Somin, it's still not too late to surrender. We can still end this peacefully, alright?"

"You think I'm going to give up just because I lost my knife? I need to survive." Somin bounces up and down, assuming a combative stance. "I've been taking aerobic kickboxing for four years." She bounds towards you and shoots a lightning fast kick at your head. You guard your face and block her kick. She bounces back and aims to kick at your shins, hard. You jump, hopping back neatly avoiding her kick.

"Are you done?"

"No," Somin recovers quickly, spinning in a fast arc and throwing out a devastating, high roundhouse. You throw up your hands and block the kick. She staggers back, her balance off.

You seize the moment to spin around, swing low and lunge towards Somin, jamming the palm of your hand into her chin. You slide your one leg between hers and jerk back, kicking her feet out from under her and slam her down into the ground. The back of her head hits the cold tiles on the floor. You force yourself on top of her, pressing down on her chest with one knee and pant, "Four years of kickboxing, huh? Try seven years of krav maga."

She squirms under you, huffing, "Get off," and quickly lunging to get the toaster. Your eyes widen and you try to grab her hands. However, she's already about to throw the toaster when you hear the sound of metal clinking once and the toaster falling by your side.

"Nah, you're not going to hurt my wife," you turn to look at Chan, pointing the gun. He walks further ahead to the two of you. "Kim Somin, you are under arrest for the murder of Yoon Yerin, Kim Jihoon and Kim Jieun. You have the right—"

"They were all liars. All cheaters. It's not fair," she yells, struggling under your hold. You hold her wrists tighter and Chan slams the handcuffs on her.

"It's over, Somin. It's all over. The court will hear the rest, and the dead will have their peace."

"Did you reach home?"

Your phone is connected to the bluetooth speakers in your car and you hear Chan's voice in the small vehicle. You rotate the steering wheel as you turn to the right across the street. It's a comparatively quieter day, almost as if it's in stark contrast to the shit that went down last night.

"Not yet. I'm two minutes away."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Chan laughs and you smile, your lips pressed together to prevent you from breaking into a big grin. "Don't miss your husband too much."

"Still in character, I see." You press on the gas to reach home a little quicker. "Are you spending it alone?"

"Nah," you hear voices in the background. "I'm spending it with Felix and Han."

"Don't miss me too much either then," you tease back and pull up at your place. You park the car in the garage and sit in the car as you speak to Chan. "And I'll meet you back in office in a few days—"

"Did you reach?"

"Oh, yes?"

"Then, check the backseat. It's my Christmas gift for you," Chan says. You unbuckle your seat belt and lift yourself up to turn back and search the backseat only to find a small box. You stretch your arms to grab it and finally sit back in your seat.

"Did you find it?" You hear Chan through the speakers again. You hum in response and open the gift.

It's a necklace. A beautiful thin silver chain with a snowflake pendant hanging and you gasp, heart beating way too quick. He remembers. He remembers. He remembers. If you were not already flushed by the gift, the note stuck on the underside of the cover of the box has your mind fuzzy, feelings all over.

The moon is beautiful.

"Chan?"

"Yeah? Did you not like the gift? I'm—"

"I'm coming over in ten minutes. Send Han and Felix away. All I want this Christmas is you. Just you."

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