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misty-caligula · 11 months

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Okay, so I’m not used to really getting... noticed... in the way that I have been recently. And I’ve been kind of just vibing quietly before I actually respond to anything. But I got some responses to my big thesis post which I think warrant extra attention, because I think perhaps I wasn’t as clear as I wanted to be.

It’s worth mentioning that I have almost 500 posts up at this point, and have been very much immersed in yj theory for a fair while, so it’s hard to necessarily know how clear I am in any given context, and if I’m making assumptions of a reader. So I’m going to respond to a couple of things and see if I can redo a bit of Jackie/Coach stuff. My intention isn’t to say “Ah you’re wrong!” but to reframe my own position. If you don’t like what I’ve got to say that’s fine, I’m just a random on the internet. I’m not Right, I’m just thinking thoughts.

(Long post ahead about meta analysis of jackie and coach and society)

@inthegloomglow

Really good post but… coach and Jackie didn’t deserve to die for not being calm about all of this. They murdered his brother. I’m not sure that’s the point I’m supposed to get? But it’s weird to condemn them for that.

@areyoushuri

!!!! Criticizing Jackie and Coach for not being well adapted to the willingness and struggling to accept the rituals and cannibalism created is odd considering that the vast majority of viewers probably wouldn't survive/accept something like that. Yes, they're stubborn, not built for the wilderness, etc. but so many of the traits we criticize now served them well before the crash.

Okay! So first thing’s first. I do not hate Jackie or Coach. I think they’re both really interesting characters, with interesting through-lines. I think that they’re well acted, well written, and bring a lot of value to the plot. I’ve completely fallen in love with Jackie and Shauna’s really messy ... mess, and will absolutely go on giant tangents about it if you don’t stop me. I find Coach to be a really intricate and tragic portrayal of being queer in the 90s, one that speaks to me as someone who was struggling with being queer in the 90s, and whose dad was queer in the decades prior. I love these disasters, as I love all the disasters on this show.

I’m not critiquing them as people, I’m digging into the metatext of their actions as thematic devices. I also don’t know if this actually needs to be said but I’ll be very clear: If these were actual human beings then I wouldn’t want any of them to die, the point is that they are not humans, they are commentaries on society and culture and trauma and the way that people adapt or fail to adapt to changing situations. I don’t think people deserve to die for being wrong, or making mistakes... I just accept the theme of characters either surviving or dying based on their values within the show. I hope that’s clear, but just in case... there you go.

So my big concept of the show is that there’s this one giant question that the yellowjackets keep getting asked: “What really happened out there?” And that what DID really happen out there, fundamentally, is that there was a fracturing of social realities. Think of it like... the ‘jackets used to be part of “Society,” a huge world-wide group of all connected human cultures as a whole. And then they went off to the wilderness and they lost contact with Society, and they had to build a whole new culture all of their own from the ground up. We’ll call that the Team. Then they were suddenly rescued, after they’d fully given up on ever seeing Society again, and were forcibly thrown back in, and now are expected to just... reassimilate. And they’re struggling to do so.

So if you think about the show as a collection of big chunks, you can think of it like this:

> The ‘jackets are normal kids, living in and learning from, and protected by Society

> Their connection to Society is severed, but they expect rescue, and so they build a micro outpost of Society in the wilderness

> They slowly realise they’re never going to be saved

> They begin to recognise that the values and lessons that Society gave them are not all helpful in the wilderness and will get them killed. They start to develop the Team to replace what’s not working

> The Team grows in power, and the individual survivors have to make a decision about whether they’re going to remain loyal to Society or join the Team. Those who don’t join the Team die, not because they’re bad but because Society cannot protect them in the wilderness. To be very clear, neither Society, nor the Team, are inherently good or bad, they’re simply cultures that exist and offer each individual a place within them to provide and be provided for. But Society is NOT here, it’s a memory of a culture that’s been severed, and cannot provide anything anymore, only the Team is capable of doing so. THAT’S why only Team members can survive.

> The only survivors left are Team members, the Team stabilizes into a functioning self-perpetuating system

> They’re rescued and forcibly reintegrated into Society

> The remaining Team members now find themselves in the opposite situation, the Team is now toxic and can’t help them anymore, just like Society couldn’t help them in the wilderness, and they need to shed it to adapt back to Society just like they shed Society the first time. Those who can do so will eventually live long and happy lives. Those who can’t will die.

Coach and Jackie’s big thing in common isn’t that they suck, or that they’re unpleasant to be around. It’s that they’re Society loyalists. They just can’t let go. And what I think is most interesting about that is that both of them are being MISTREATED by Society. They’ve both been assigned roles that they cannot fill, and have held onto those roles SO tightly that it’s getting them killed.

Jackie’s absolutely plastered with unearned privilege. She’s constantly being told how perfect and brilliant and incredible she is. But she knows it’s a lie. And in order to defend her place, to justify her situation, and protect herself from anyone finding out, she holds Shauna SO close to her, so that she can have someone to feel constantly superior to. To make her look good by comparison. Except that Shauna is so many of the things that she secretly knows she isn’t and feels she NEEDS to be. So she spends a lot of effort beating Shauna down and focusing on convincing her that she has all these flaws and things so that she doesn’t realise that Jackie’s not actually this perfect person that people tell her she has to be.

Once she’s in the wilderness and Shauna starts to shine on her own - because the Team simply needs a different set of skills than Society did and Shauna’s willing to engage with it - Jackie’s control slips and she resents it, she fears it so much. And she can’t accept losing that level of authority that she got given by Society, to take a lower role with the Team. And so she stays loyal to Society even when it’s nonsensical. She sits in the snow and simply waits to be rescued, because that’s what Society has taught her to do.

But the Team doesn’t work like that. It requires Team members to be self-sufficient, and to work together. Jackie won’t go inside because Society has taught her to wait for Shauna to submit to her authority and apologise and invite her in, to give her the position that she Deserves. Shauna won’t do that because the Team has taught her that each Team member needs to be a part of the whole, that Jackie must eventually request permission to join the Team as a regular member. It’s a conflict that doesn’t get resolved, because neither will budge, but in the wilderness the Team can protect you and Society cannot, so Jackie’s faith in Society is punished with death.

That’s why Jackie can’t make a basic campfire to literally save her life. Because the Team would’ve taught her how, would’ve required her to learn. Society would provide her with someone to do it for her. So she just never bothered to learn. It’s why she’s unable to recognise just how dangerously cold it’s getting and be REASONABLE and knock on the door. Because Society has taught her that she’s protected from danger, that if it ever got Dangerous someone would come and help her. She doesn’t know the difference between damn cold and dying cold. Society works because of hundreds, thousands, millions, billions of people working together in intricate systems of mutual support and deep heirarchy. You don’t need to know how to put out a fire because when your house catches fire you call 911. You don’t need to know how to escape the wilderness because when you get lost they send a rescue helicopter. But without the connection to Society its lessons are literally destructive - Sit and wait until you die. Rescue isn’t coming.

Sidenote: If you want to go REALLY deep into the meta of it, the Team then gets rewarded with food by predating on Jackie as a vestige of Society, much the same way as they get little bits of technology by picking apart the wreckage of the plane. The plane is useful to Society as a transport, it’s useful to the Team as a source of supplies. Jackie is useful to Society as a member, is useful to the Team as a source of food. But I digress.

Now Society isn’t always a nice place to be, and Jackie’s not treated all that well within it either. People find her frustrating and comment on how undeserving she is of her position. They actively go behind her back when they can, Jeff cheats on her with her supposedly lesser best friend, Coach Martinez tells her to her face that she’s kinda mid, and people are generally mildly annoyed at her most of the time. But Society has her back, and as long as she plays by the rules, and follows the lessons, her life is pretty much made. It won’t necessarily be everything she ever dreamed of, but she’s solid, pragmatically. But the stress it puts on her, to conform and try to fit the role she’s arbitrarily placed into by Society is going to slowly ruin her and she’ll end up a bitter and unhappy person if she remains completely committed to it (assuming they never crashed, obviously). And what she doesn’t seem to realise is that the Team offers her community, and acceptance, and respect on the terms of her actual reality, on what she’s able to genuinely provide, whatever that is. But she’s so caught up in holding onto Society that it literally gets her killed.

That’s not to say that she doesn’t have a potential place in Society where she could be genuinely happy. Just that the one that she’s assigned isn’t right for her. If she was able to be let go of her fear, if she was able to be honest and stop trying to conform to the expectations put on her by those around her, and take a position in Society that more suited her she COULD have a perfectly comfortable life, happy and healthy. But the fact that she’s been assigned this life path that she knows doesn’t fit, that she’s so insecure about, is what MAKES her such an unwavering loyalist for Society, because she has so much to lose.

And that’s what makes her and Coach so similar. Coach is born in the ‘60s, is brought up in the ‘70s and ‘80s. We don’t know when he realised he’s gay, but it has to have been a very scary thing for him. He has been living in a world of deep and abiding homophobia his whole life (I remember the 90s, I can only imagine the 70s...) and then came AIDS. For his whole life Society has convinced him that living in the closet is a life-preserving choice. That he can get all kinds of value from Society, all sorts of good things, as long as he plays by the rules, fits his assigned role. And being gay simply doesn’t fit his role.

So he hides it. He hides it despite the fear it causes, the pain it causes, the fact that it keeps him away from Paul whom he loves. He takes on a job that he hates, surrounding himself with a bunch of girls who he despises. Because, as Natalie said, if he actually threw in his lot with Paul, if he went against Society, then he’d be reliant on Paul (and by extension the Gay microculture) in a really intense way and if he lost him then he’d have nothing left. He’d have blown his entire life up, and been stuck. Coach, like Jackie, is ruled by his fear that without Society’s handouts of privilege and gifts and authority that he’d simply have nothing left on his own. It’s a painfully real portrayal of the fear and self-hatred that perpetuates the ongoing trauma of the closet in the real world.

He’s spent his entire life giving up real parts of himself for the sake of Society, he’s all-in. And he, like Jackie, is just too invested to let go. He can’t appreciate that Society has nothing to offer him in the wilderness, that the Team can and will protect him if he lets it. A lot of people make jokes about the idea that Coach might be eaten if he sticks around too long, because he only has one leg. But that kind of ablest absolutism is Society thinking. Because the Team still hasn’t turned on him. When they decided they needed to sacrifice someone for Lottie they didn’t say “Okay, where’s Coach gone? Let’s go hunt him.”

The Team just doesn’t have the room to see him that way. NOBODY is expendable in the wilderness, every sacrifice is an agony they struggle to cope with. And... I guess if you wanted to get very dark with it, Coach’s missing leg means that his food value ratio to his potential value as a Team member is lower.

And Coach has shown plenty of value to the team in the wilderness. He’s actually capable of providing real advice as an adult with life experience. He taught them to shoot and hunt, he made sure that Nat wouldn’t get pregnant (thank GOD after the nightmare that Shauna went through), he’s perfectly capable of holding down the fort, and once he’s adapted he’s remarkably capable of getting around. To the Team he’s a pair of hands, a thinking mind, company, experience, and just... a human being. To Society he’s lost a lot of value, but the Team simply doesn’t conceptualise him like that.

And when he WANTS to, he proves how capable he really is. He got to the cliff on his own without too much struggle. He got into and out of the cave all on his own. Not saying it’s easy to be an amputee, but it’s not AS disabling as a lot of people would assume. And he’s still got a perfectly functioning mind, hands, etc. What he doesn’t have is a will to join the Team. To genuinely engage with the reality they’re in.

Again, this is reiterated with a second camp fire disaster, making the point that he’s been in the wilderness for most of a year now and he still can’t do something as simple, as fundamental to Team survival (but not Society survival) as lighting a tiny fire. Because in Society he’d never have to, Society simply provides. And in the wilderness he’s been relying on the Team to provide and not recognised that he’s been doing that. Not recognised the fact that he’s not been pitching in. That every fire he didn’t light someone else did. Every scrap of warmth he’s enjoyed all winter has been provided by the Team, not Society.

In S1E10 when Shauna gives up on Society and finally commits to the Team she does so with a fight with Jackie. And the only person on Jackie’s side is Coach, the other Society loyalist, who - like Jackie - assumes a position of authority based on his status within Society. And Lottie - the Team authority - says “Stay out of it, Coach.” She asserts that this is Team business, that Society has no say here. And, without Society providing the backup behind his words, and without actually contributing anything to the Team (not because he Can’t but because he Won’t) Coach has absolutely no power and no say, and he disengages from this point. And because he simply won’t join the Team his fate is sealed.

Coach also provides a viewpoint on the Team from Society’s perspective. Because the audience perspective is so deeply rooted in the Team, Coach’s viewpoint is the alternative. He’s the last tiny vestige of what they left behind. Like a tourist, watching a culture he doesn’t understand, assuming that he’s better than them, that they’re evil, that he knows what’s Really Going On. That his loyalty to Society will someday gain him some sort of advantage or reward, even as he stands on the edge of the cliff. Because his attachment to Society is so strong that he’d rather die than join the Team, an unthinkable option.

So when Coach sees the ‘jackets eating Jackie, his response of horror is not just that of Coach Ben Scott reacting to cannibalism in his face. It’s also the response of Society to the unforgivable breach of social laws by the Team. The fact that they’re able to do it, that they seem to be enjoying it, completely giving into the deepest taboo... he can’t handle it and neither, by extension, can Society. And as he’s powerless to stop it he simply closes the door, trying to separate himself from them. When he finds Shauna carving up Javi he tries to rescue Nat, the only Team member he sees as somehow redeemable, as a potential Society ally. And when she rejects him, when she shows him that she, who was on the fence, has now willingly and knowingly joined the Team he sees in her his faith in Society collapsing. Because here’s the girl who he put up on a pedestal, as “the good one” and she’s rejected Society. So either a) he’s wrong about Society, and Nat’s right. Or b) he’s wrong about Nat and right about Society.

Or a secret, third option, he could lose himself in a tantrum of repressed rage, burn down the cabin and also throw himself off the cliff, giving up on EVERYTHING in the process. (That’s my personal theory, but we’ll have to wait to find out)

Now he COULD respond at this point by going “Fuck it, fine, I can be a Team member too, if it saves my life.” And he might find in it the kind of value the rest have found. But doing that would require him to accept that they’re never ever going to be rescued. That Society truly is gone. That it was all for nothing. That he gave up his life, gave up Paul, gave up happiness and love and everything ... and never got his reward. No, he HAS to keep holding on, has to keep believing that there is a point, is a purpose to it. For his own sanity.

Again, we can read really deep into the meta of this and say... that’s what coming out of the closet really is. It’s saying “I’m SICK of giving up so much for Society, and I don’t believe that the reward is there, or if it is that it’s worth it. If the alternative is to be a monster, as Society tells me I am if I’m queer, then fuck it I’ll be the monster you say I am. Because that’s what’s going to keep me happy, to give me love, to feed me, and give me a life I want to live.” I’m not saying that it’s a completely 1 to 1 exact match, but you get the idea.

And so Coach tries to destroy the Team, tries to reassert the dominance of Society, because the Team is a bunch of inhuman monsters as far as Society is concerned. They’re deviant, corrupted, feral. But they’re not. They’re just trying to create a new culture that will get them from monday to sunday without dying on tuesday. They’re just trying to face a harsh reality with a perspective that makes sense, to them. They’re neither bad, nor good, neither moral or immoral. They’re surviving, or dying, and that’s what matters in the wilderness.

*Intermission, go grab some snacks*

Okay so this is already really really long, but you can flip the script and watch the exact same story happening in reverse in the adult timeline too. In Season 1 the whole big question is why is Travis dead? Who killed him?

And the answer is... the Team did. Like, in a LITERAL sense, he put the noose on his own neck. And Lottie pressed the button, at his command. He literally did kill himself. But he never intended to die, and what got him there was the Team. He genuinely believed that he needed to do the ritual in order to connect with It for all their sakes. And he - like Coach and Jackie in the wilderness - was wrong. The rituals they’d developed, the beliefs they’d formed to cope in the Team simply were of no use now they were back in Society.

But he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t accept that they were truly out of the danger, that the trauma was really over. That Society could protect them, when he’d had it proven so powerfully to him that it couldn’t help them in the wilderness. And his unending and irrational faith in the Team is literally what killed him. And Lottie, who MIGHT’VE been able to somehow rescue him from the situation - she was standing RIGHT THERE - was herself so absorbed in Team thinking that she instead just stood by as he died.

(Again, I really really need to be clear, I do not hate any of these characters, I love them all dearly and I’m reading into the meta rather than their literal actions, I don’t blame Lott for her actions as I don’t blame Travis for his, this is just how the story is written and WHY)

I could make a similar argument about Nat, and almost did, but she’s SO complex (she and Shauna have such intricate relationships to the Team and Society) it would honestly take up as much space as I’ve already written now and my brain’s getting tired. But I will end with a little thing I thought of as I was writing this.

There’s a third Society loyalist I forgot to mention: Laura Lee.

Laura’s faith in God is mirrored with her faith in Society. Neither are based on anything solid in the wilderness, she never gets any form of external validation of any of her beliefs. She just interprets what happens through her own lens and assumes she’s right. She’s been provided with a role of spiritual authority by Society, in an acceptable religion, and she assumes that she’s competent to hold it. When Lottie comes to her for advice, she provides it and assumes she’s correct. When Lottie sees things she interprets them as though her opinions were fact. When she sees the plane she decides that she should use it to save everyone, and because she decided that, she assumes that it’s God’s will, and so she assumes she cannot fail. That God has her back. Just as she, and Jackie, and Coach, assume that Society has their backs.

In the plane, Laura Lee sees her opportunity to reconnect with Society. And her unwavering faith in the capacity of God to provide protection from harm and Society to provide functional and reliable transportation without needing to work for it ... gets her killed. The lack of connection to Society, and the incapability of Society, and its’ God, to provide for the Team is displayed as a giant fireball in the sky for all to see, proof that they are truly, deeply alone. That Society cannot help them here. But it still takes a while for the lesson to really sink in. And for some of them, it just never does.

#yellowjackets #long post #spoilers #theory #meta

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darchildre · 10 months

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Rathbone Holmes movies, ranked

First, the series as a whole: it's really fun! Basil Rathbone will never be my Sherlock Holmes (that's Clive Merrison, until one I like better comes along) but I can see why he is the definitive Holmes for a lot of people. He definitely has the right look - half the time he looks like he walked right out of a Paget illustration. (He's also occasionally distractingly pretty? Like, I am ace as hell and sometimes had to rewind the movie because I was paying too much attention to how nice his eyes were.)

The films are obvious B movies and made quickly (if you look at the dates below, you'll see that there were sometimes three of these released in a single year), but the occasional jankiness and short runtimes are part of their charm. I love the recurring stable of bit part actors who appear over and over again - it's fun to spot them in each successive film. I also love the absolute refusal to explain a) the shift in the Victorian era to the 1940s when the series moved to Universal and b) how Moriarty can die at the end of three separate films. Sherlock Holmes is immortal; Moriarty is like Schrödinger's cat - either dead or alive, depending on the demands of the plot. It's delightful.

I have criticisms - try as I might, I can't get over my dislike of Nigel Bruce's Watson and his influence on the perception of Watson to this day. Lestrade is likewise occasionally unbearable. There's the normal period-typical racism to deal with in certain of the films as well. Sometimes the plots don't quite hang together and there's only one that can be called anything like a faithful adaptation of the story it claims to be based on.

But, even with that, they're fun movies and well worth checking out. I enjoyed watching them and there are a few that I'll put into my "good background movies for craft time" rotation. If you want to watch any of them, they're all on youtube except for The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, which you can find on the Internet Archive. Even the bad ones will only take up about 70 minutes of your time.

This post is so long, oh my god, and only going to get longer. The actual ranking will go under a cut. Sorry, folks on mobile.

And now, the ranking!

1) The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939) - Super fun. It claims to be based on the play by William Gillette but, having seen what this series generally uses the words “based on” to mean, I have my doubts about that. In any case, I think this one is stronger for not trying to wedge in details from the original stories. George Zucco’s Moriarty is fun and definitely has Weird Bitter Exes energy with Holmes, which I find very enjoyable. Holmes and Watson get space for some character work and Holmes gets to be a big weirdo on occasion - something I always appreciate. Moriarty’s schemes are very fun (even if the theft of the Crown Jewels doesn’t feel like a Moriarty-style crime*) and the climactic action scene is very exciting. Definitely my favorite of the series.

*Yes, okay, I spent the whole “stealing the Crown jewels” scene thinking “This is a Raffles crime. Except that he would keep them on his mantel for a week and then mail them back to the Queen in a biscuit box, the weirdo.”

2) The Woman in Green (1945) - This one is so hard to rank! It has a really good plot, Henry Daniell is my favorite of the three Moriartys in the series, the blackmail/murder device is really interesting, it has some fun Holmes and Watson interactions and some actual character work, and the climax is really tense and suspenseful. But I find the whole hypnosis thing deeply deeply unpleasant. I’m honestly mad about the fact that I like so much about this film and that it has a central plot device that renders it nearly unwatchable for me. I’m therefore putting it in the ranking where it would be if I didn’t have that very idiosyncratic problem with it. If you don’t have a hypnosis/mind control squick, this one’s very good.

3) The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939) - A fairly straight and faithful adaptation of HOUN, with a few changes due to the Hayes Code. It’s solid and very enjoyable, and it looks great, with some gorgeous use of fog. Rathbone and Bruce are both good in this one (Watson is a bit jammy, but not terribly so) and the side players are also excellent. (John Carradine! Lionel Atwill!) Points off for the titular Hound just being a normal-ass dog and not made to look spooky or supernatural at all. I’m probably rating this a little lower than other people might, simply because I’m not super into HOUN.

4) Terror by Night (1946) - A train movie! I love a train movie. And it’s a train movie plus a movie with Colonel Moran. (A Colonel Moran who isn’t a big game hunter, but is a notable jewel thief, a hobbyist mathematician, and “played for the Gentlemen at Lords”. Sure, okay, why not?) All of the red herring train passengers are very fun (as is Holmes siccing Watson on them as a distraction). Not the best of the series, but quite good.

5) Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror (1942) - My favorite of the “Holmes vs Nazis” films. This movie feels janky in places - there are some scenes that are such clear British propaganda that they’re a little hard to watch with a straight face - but there’s a very real feeling of tension and fear running through the film that makes up for it. (Being partially based on actual events probably helps there.) It’s also filmed in a way that feels like a much older film, which gives it a very unique look compared to the rest of the series. Even when it’s not actually good it is always interesting. (This was the first movie made after the series moved to Universal, so some of the odd feel may also be due to that.)

6) Dressed to Kill (1946) - There are two vague adaptation of SIXN in the series and this is the good one. It also steals a fun bit from SCAN. It feels a little padded (we spend entirely too long watching an auctioneer run an auction, twice, and also there’s a random musical number) but the villains are fun, the plot is generally exciting, it's got a cool maguffin, there’s an interesting musical puzzle, and there's a scene where Watson tries to entertain a child by making duck noises and the child is not having it. This is the last film in the series and it feels like a good ending.

7) Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (1943) - Most of the films in this series that claim to be based on a particular Holmes story are basically lying, but this one does make at least an attempt at MUSG, swapping the goofy geometry puzzle for a goofy chess puzzle. I like this one mostly for the period detail - I love that Watson gets to have an actual job at an army hospital, and I love the trio of shellshocked convalescents who wander through the film. (Ostensibly, they are presented as red herrings, but they mostly provide some gentle humor that is more to my taste than Watson or Lestrade’s usual shtick.) The final confrontation between Holmes and the killer in the crypt is also quite good.

8) Pursuit to Algiers (1945) - A boat movie! Fun, though not as good as a train movie. Homes and Watson are very married in this one, and all the subterfuge with the Ruritanian nobleman (I don’t remember what fake country he’s actually supposed to be from) is very good. Watson sings - this scene is not as painful as I feared it would be. I would have liked a little more time spent on the trio of killers, whom I found very intriguing, but I suppose these movies are only 70 minutes long, after all.

9) Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon (1943) - Oof. I mean, it has some good points, but the central scientist maguffin character is so dumb and boring. Fortunately, the second half of the movie gives us Lionel Atwill’s Moriarty, who is a joy. I mean, he’s not a particularly good Moriarty, but he’s an excellent example of a Lionel Atwill-style Fucked Up Weirdo and he gets to have excellent Weird Bitter Exes energy with Holmes - this is the height of the Holmes/Moriarty “we used to date and it ended so badly” thing that these movies are doing*. Also introduces Lestrade to the series. He is…not a good Lestrade.

*This one does have my favorite moment of the films slipping something past the Hayes Office. Holmes has just described his frankly disturbing fantasy about Moriarty’s death by slow exsanguination and Lionel Atwill’s Moriarty purrs, “The needle to the end, eh Holmes?”

10) The Scarlet Claw (1944) - What if HOUN again but in Canada this time? (Why are we in Canada? Look, don’t worry about it.) This one is pretty fun - the mystery is good, and I really enjoyed the character who turned out to be the killer. (He's played by perhaps my favorite of the recurring bit part actors.) However, it has perhaps too much jam Watson shtick - having Watson literally get stuck in a hole not once but twice is too much for me.

11) Sherlock Holmes in Washington (1943) - Not bad. All the subterfuge and trickery with the central maguffin is good, there is a very funny scene with Holmes pretending to be an obnoxious customer in an antique shop, and George Zucco returns as an excellent non-Moriarty villain. However, the plot itself is pretty lackluster and the film is ultimately kinda forgettable. Not bad, just not memorable - I enjoyed watching it but I did have to go look a synopsis to remind me which one this was.

12) The House of Fear (1945) - A fun And Then There Were None-style mystery, spoiled by way too much jam Watson. Nigel Bruce’s Watson is tolerable when he is relatively reined in - he is not reined in at all in this one. Good lord.

13) The Pearl of Death (1944) - On the plus side, this movie did steal its opening from “The Arrest of Arsène Lupin”, which did make me laugh, and also it does the “knocking over the bowl of oranges” bit from REIG, which is always a joy. On the other hand, it is nominally an adaptation of SIXN that goes out of its way to make Lestrade look bad and stupid, and also contains an inexplicable and unnecessary monster-murderer. Giles Conover is a fun villain; the Hoxton Creeper is not. I did not particularly enjoy this one.

14) The Spider Woman (1944) - This is my least favorite. It shoves details from about 6 different Holmes stories into a big blender and tries to make the resulting mess all work together as a coherent story. It doesn't. There are some good moments - I am fond of the scene between Watson and Lestrade when they think that Holmes is dead, doing SPEC with a spider is a cool idea, and there’s a bit where I swear they’re just quoting dialogue from Hornung’s “Ides of March” - but ultimately it doesn’t hang together well. (And also it misquotes the Norbury bit from YELL and makes it racist and I’m still very angry about it.) If you're going to skip any of the series, it should be this one.

#sherlock holmes #basil rathbone #and now to rewatch granada holmes!#rathbone holmes

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existslikepristin · 2 years

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Salon Erotique

Tags: TheLounge, NSFW… not exactly smut?, Secret Number, Soodam, Futanari reader insert (intentionally this time, too!), cliche fanfic intro, pretty girl, awkward girl, pretty awkward girl, nudity and talk of sex but no actual sex occurs, there is no smut in this SMUT wtf, yall I gave you so many opportunities, I guess it’s a fuckin romcom, Denise and Dita are unhelpful wingmen, does it count as a foot fetish if they’re chicken feet, seriously her lip twitches are the most fucking darling thing, visions in the sauce, 90% of the dirty talk comes from Giselle, how dare you make me write almost-fluff, I’m eventually gonna write the craziest smut in retaliation or just because I intended to all along idk, I uh could have posted this four months ago, oops, happy Secret Number comeback day!, enjoy!

Another day, another photoshoot. It’s not that you’re sick of these. Quite the contrary, they’re a fantastic source of supplementary income and you can appreciate that. It’s just that they’re an overused plot device.

But despite that, you feel that this particular photoshoot is going to be an interesting one.

You heft your camera bag off your shoulder and get your lighting set up. Your client today rented a studio for this. The space itself is super nice. Small, but not so small as to be uncomfortable. Warm, not hot. Private, not isolated. You wonder how much your client spent on it.

Speaking of the devil, she has appeared.

You’re pretty sure, anyway. She’s a beautiful woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, with a calf-length black dress and a classy grey jacket over it. Based on her carefully applied makeup and the fact that her wavy brunette hair looks like it just came from the salon, you’re pretty sure this is your client.

“Soodam?” you ask to verify.

She regards you with a silent look for a moment. “Yes… I made an appointment.”

Well… yeah. That would explain why you’re here.

“Yup. That’s great. So I’ve got the lighting ready to go. What exactly are you looking for, Soodam?”

She removes her jacket and hangs it with care on a hook on the door. The upper half of her dress is as conservative and modest as the length. “A photoshoot.”

Oh, so it’s going to be one of those days.

“Yes, of course. What sort of feel are you going for? Do you maybe have a theme in mind? Or a specific situation you plan on using the photos for?”

Soodam steps into the staging area and looks in every direction but yours.

Is she going to answer?

Options for Part 1:

She just wants something professional-looking to put on her instagram.

(Picked:) She wants some tasteful, artistic nudes.

She wants promotional material for her group.

Soodam does not answer you. At least not verbally. Instead, she pulls her dress up and over her head, taking a bit longer than one would with a shirt, given its length.

You can’t help but stare as she undresses. For one, you weren’t expecting her to. For two, you’re stunned by the absolutely murderous shape of her body. The subtle flare of her hips and her bubble butt, toned legs and tummy, and breasts wrapped in lacy white.

She stands there, nearly naked, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, eyes continuing to wander.

You cough to get her attention, hoping for an explanation. Soodam merely hums, as if agreeing with you, and unhooks her bra, dropping it to the side with her dress.

“Woah!” You have to pull your shirt a bit further down to keep the bulge from being too obvious through your yoga pants. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s going on here?”

Soodam gives you a curious look. “A photoshoot.” There she goes again...

“In the nude?!”

“Yes,” she states matter-of-factly, then, surprisingly, continues after a pause, “I see. Starting with the lingerie on. That will look nice.”

Clearly she doesn’t understand your distress.

You turn around as she bends over to pick up her bra again, avoiding the far too alluring sight of her ass, and fumble your phone out of your purse. You need to figure out if she said something about this that you missed when she hired you. But when you unlock your phone, the map that you hadn’t bothered to close is on screen, and you see a marker on your current position. You hadn’t thought much about the name of the studio before arriving, but now it makes sense.

salon érotique

You don’t need to have studied French to know you’ve gotten yourself into an interesting situation. It’s fine though. You can do this. You’re a goddamn professional.

“Well then, Soodam, thoughts on the lighting? Too warm? Cool?”

“I like it.”

Of course that’s all she has to say. You turn around to discover that she’s much closer to you, mere feet away. You could touch her if you reached out...

“It’s strange for girls to look at each other like that, you know.”

It would seem you were staring again. And this time she caught you.

Options for Part 2:

(Picked:) Brush it off. As previously stated, you’re a goddamn professional. You’re just… tired.

Admit that you just weren’t expecting a nude photoshoot, because you’re a dummo.

Correct her because, um, actually, you’re a futanari, gosh.

“Look at each other like what?” you ask, feigning ignorance. “I’m scanning my subject. Sorry if it’s coming across as something else. I just didn’t get quite enough sleep last night.”

“That’s okay, as long as the pictures turn out nicely.” Soodam sounds quite uninterested in your fake plight.

You steel your nerves and pick up your camera.

The first round of pictures is innocent enough. Soodam drapes herself across the white cloth background, and her lingerie practically blends in. Over time, however, the poses become more and more erotique. She pulls at the straps of the bra and lets them fall.

You think about your memory card. Soon enough, it’s going to be jam packed with sensual photos that you never expected would be inside of it.

Despite your insistence on professionalism, you struggle to keep your erection out of view. This was certainly not the day to have decided against baggier jeans. At least your shirt hangs low enough to conceal your shame.

You find yourself talking like a cheesy photographer anyway. “That’s great, Soodam! Yes! Hand on the hip! Pop that leg!”

Soodam is either into it, or she’s very good at interpreting stupid instructions. Which is the case, you couldn’t say, but her silent obedience is sure to produce high resolution gold.

“Yes! YES! You’re a cat! You’re a sexy cat! Prowl for me, baby! MEOW!”

The words escaping your mouth become increasingly more incoherent. There’s no stopping you and your artistic rampage.

Well actually, your camera stops you quite easily. The usual shutter sound it produces is replaced by a shrill beeping. It’s time to swap the memory.

You grumble as you dig through your bag. The interruption of your flow is extremely unwelcome, but at least it brings you back to reality. It’s a good thing too, because you notice the hard outline of your cock is almost fully visible. Your shirt must have gotten caught in your waistband somehow.

Readjusting, you turn back, only to see Soodam dragging her lacy panties down to her mid-thigh. Her bra is unclasped and barely hanging on by one shoulder.

Options for Part 3:

(Picked:) Keep taking pictures as normal. You don’t want to cause any distress.

Take off your top. It’s only right that you and your model are dressed similarly, right?

Peace the fuck out of there. This is too hot for you to handle.

Of course, you decide, it would be absolutely stupid to do anything other than continuing to do your job like a normal person. This is your livelihood and you have a reputation to uphold! Not that your job hasn’t led you all the way to sex with several idols in the past, but that’s no excuse!

You slap your cheeks and let the adrenaline course through your veins. New memory card installed, you swing the camera around to continue the shoot.

Soodam remains perfectly stoic, as if she’s done full pictorials naked before. And she sure poses like she knows what she’s doing too.

She starts on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She slowly kicks one raised foot back and forth, touching one finger to the corner of her seductive lips. Her other hand is placed coyly over her breast.

Next pose. Soodam sits up, panties casually sliding down until they’re hanging off her toes. She props her chin up, elbow to knee. One arm goes between her legs to obscure her pussy. Her bra is just about gone, looking almost like a purse flung over her shoulder and leaving her tiny, pointed nipples completely out.

Next pose. The underwear is gone. With the technical exception of her modest earrings, Soodam is one hundred percent nude. She drapes herself back, arms over the head, hair fanned out. Her knees are still up, one crossed over the other. You stand halfway over her to get a series of glamorous pictures from above. When she looks up, you swear she’s staring through the camera and into your eyes. You gulp down your nerves and keep up the pace.

Next pose. Soodam gets on her knees, popping her shockingly round booty out toward you. “Hey, I… hope you know I didn’t mean anything by saying that… about girls.”

You pause your camera work. “Oh. That’s oka--”

“I’m just nervous about doing a photoshoot like this. That’s all.”

Options for Part 4:

Tell her she’s doing well. You’d never have guessed she was nervous.

(Picked:) Say it’s fine, if she makes it up to you. Say, by paying for dinner.

Imply, not all that subtly, that she shouldn’t be so damn rude.

“Uh. Oh. No worries, Soodam. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can make it up to you.”

You look her up and down. She’s still looking away from you, so it seems like the perfect opportunity to take in the view… Not that you’re taking hundreds of nude pictures of her or something.

The curve of her back, the way her thighs and calves spread out as they press into each other, her slim shoulders, it’s all making you feel crazy. You think for a moment that you could ask her to suck your dick, or something similarly dirty, but no. That would be way too brazen of you, and she’d never go for that. Would she? You blurt it out.

“How about you take me out for dinner?”

Okay, so you didn’t blurt out anything dirty, but you almost did!

“Tonight? After the shoot?” Soodam asks.

Your thought process hadn’t gotten that far. “Uh, totally. If you’re free.”

“Okay.”

Okay. That settles it somehow, you suppose. You adjust your cock again to not appear through your leggings and get back to taking pictures. Tasteful… hopefully… pictures.

But just like that, the photoshoot ends. Soodam didn’t do anything really wild, as expected. Over the course of several more poses, not unlike some relatively tame pin-ups or boudoir images, nothing out of the relative ordinary happened.

You pack your camera back up, clasping all of the relevant memory cards in a secure case. You certainly don’t want to be losing these ones. Soodam gets dressed once more. It’s almost a shock just how modest her outfit is, but it’s what she wore in. You guess it’s your horny futa mind that made you forget.

“So…” Soodam hovers around as you take down the lighting. “Do you like chicken feet?”

As an amalgamation of people, you don’t really have that strong of a preference, but still you say, “Yup! Is that where you want to go?”

“Yes. And… Is this…” Her words may be slow, but at least they’re efficient. “A date?”

You look up from your shade folding. Again, she’s not looking at you. She’s looking anywhere but, in fact.

Options for Part 5:

A date immediately after taking her naked pictures? No, that’s weird.

(Picked:) Of course it’s a date. A romantic/cutesy one, in fact.

Neither, because it was a trick, and you’re leaving now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose. After you said what you did about girls looking at each oth--”

“I’m sorry.” Soodam interrupts. It seems perhaps that she’s trying to avoid mention of her potential homophobia. “Yes, it’s a date.”

You smile. She may be rude but at least she’s cute and to the point. “So does that mean you’ll be showing me a cute, romantic time tonight?”

The first sign of emotion you’ve seen out of her today appears. A rosy blush spreads across her cheeks. You’re about to let her know that it’s a joke and you’re not trying to extort a romance out of her, but she makes a beeline for the door.

“Yes, I’ll make sure it’s romantic,” she says on her way. She doesn’t look back.

What a weird chick…

Once all of your equipment is packed up and ready to go, you get a single text telling you where to go and when. Looks like you’ve got a few hours to get ready.

* * *

Thankfully, the directions were easy to follow.

Soodam is standing outside the restaurant and, unlike you, she’s changed clothes: A tank top with a cardigan, both white, a short, pink skirt, and white sneakers. She could certainly be described as cute, but the cute look is undercut by her nervous fidgeting. Her entire demeanor is different from the way it was at the studio.

In fact, she barely, sheepishly greets you, “Hi… Follow me.”

You do exactly that. “Well hello Soodam,” you say to her back.

She doesn’t meet your eye when you reach your reserved table either, but gestures for you to sit.

“No, not there!”

You pause, half-crouched. “Oh. Uh, wrong table?”

“No, I mean… Please sit here, on this side.” Her gestures frantically change direction to the opposite side of the table.

Weird might have been too tame a word to describe Soodam. But even so, you swap to the other side of the table and she sits across from you. Wordlessly and with her head down, she holds out a menu to you with both hands.

After a moment of looking it over, entirely in silence, you decide to try and break the ice. “So, Soodam. What was this you were telling me about chicken feet?”

“You… don’t have to order chicken feet. But this place makes the best chicken feet. You should definitely try it, because… You should definitely try it.”

That might be the most you’ve ever heard her speak. Too bad she said it to her feet.

Options for Part 6:

(Picked:) Clearly she wants you to order the chicken feet. Order the chicken feet.

Actually, you’re in the mood for a different kind of spice. Order the teokbokki.

Go in a totally different direction! Order the salmon.

Moments later, a waiter comes by and asks if you’re ready. Hoping to avoid any more awkwardness, you ask for the house special chicken feet. Soodam asks for the same.

And then, nothing really happens. You look around the restaurant. The wood of the seats goes all the way to the ceiling, but with large gaps in between slats. There’s very much an industrial type look throughout. Or their designer was lazy. Behind you there are a couple empty tables and a person with their hoodie obscuring their eyes. To the side, a few more people sitting at individual tables, dressed as if they had just come directly from bed. Seems to be a pretty slow day.

Minutes worth of silence has you bored and anxious. You don’t know what to say to Soodam, or even if you should say anything. You’d be at home editing the day’s photos with a bowl of ramen if you weren’t here now. And Soodam is obviously not much of a talker. You look down at your phone both to check the time and see if anybody’s sent you an urgent enough text that you can get back out of this.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see some movement from Soodam though. You don’t think much of it until she reaches out with lightning speed and snatches your phone-wielding hand.

Her eyes are wide, and her lips are twitching like she’s trying to come up with something to say, but isn’t able to make any noise.

“I, uh, shouldn’t check my phone?” you ask.

“No. I mean… no. I mean we should talk. Right? This is a date, and we should talk.”

Soodam’s words aren’t very convincing, especially since she keeps looking nervously to the side between them.

“Yeah, what do you want to talk about?”

The lip and eye twitching continues. It looks like she’s struggling to smile. “What time… are you from?”

She releases your hand and hangs her head low enough you can just see her nose through her hair. Before you can ask what she means, she speaks again. “I mean do you have any questions for me?”

Options for Part 7:

Questions? Um yes. Is she alright? What happened to the photoshoot confidence?

No, you don’t have any questions. You want to see where she was going with that.

(Picked, you nerds:) A few. What’s her name, her quest, and the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

Ask if she wants to see some of the photos you already edited… in public.

A grin splits your face. “Yeah I’ve got a few. What’s your name?”

Soodam looks back up, obviously confused. “Lee Soodam. You knew that.”

You nod. “Okay. What is your quest?”

From somewhere in the restaurant you hear someone snicker. It seems they can hear you and already get the reference. Soodam definitely doesn’t. Her mouth continues to twitch as she desperately searches for whatever words might constitute a real answer.

“To… date… you? I don’t know what y--”

You interrupt for the final question. “What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”

Somebody behind you bursts into laughter, followed by a loud "African or European?!" In that same moment, Soodam winces in pain and clutches her ear. You've seen enough romantic comedy movies to know what's going on.

You look back and make eye contact with the laughing girl. She has frizzy, faded orange hair and a hoodie which, you realize, was previously concealing her face. She stops laughing, whispers something down her shirt, and runs out of the restaurant.

Soodam looks absolutely mortified when you face her again.

"So who was that?" you ask, trying not to sound confrontational.

There's a long pause before she answers. "Denise."

At least she's not a liar.

"Can I see your ear?"

Trembling like a leaf, Soodam turns her head. You hadn’t noticed thanks to some very clever makeup, but there's a cord partially disguised as part of her earring.

"Were you hoping to get like, walked through the date or something?"

Soodam nods and hangs her head.

“You know,” you say, putting a hand on the table as if you’re going to stand up, “if you’re uncomfortable with this, we can go…”

“No!” She grabs your hand and yanks the cord away from her ear. There’s a patch of bare skin left over by some stage tape. “I’ve never been with a girl before and I don’t actually girls I mean go on dates in the first place and I’m very cute I mean you’re cute and I’m very nervous is what I meant to say please don’t leave we can do anything you want you’re actually very cute.”

Well now you know why she normally speaks so slowly.

Options for Part 8:

(Picked:) Get her to tell you more about herself. That’s the kind of thing a date is for, isn’t it?

Dates with you tend to include sexy times too… Where’s the bathroom in this place?

You smile. “That’s... Well that’s good to hear, Soodam.”

You take your hand off the table and settle back in. Soodam’s mouth just twitches some more for about half a minute.

“You, uh, blew your whole load on that outburst, didn’t you?”

She droops into her seat, slowly pulling her hand away from yours. “Yes. I’m… Sorry.”

Not entirely content with the idea of dipping into another extremely awkward few minutes, you snatch her hand before she can get too far away, just like she did with you. “Hey! Don’t be sorry! I didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously. How about I lead the conversation a bit more and see if that helps you out?”

Soodam nods and trains her eyes on yours. “That… yes, please.”

“Well let’s start with something simple. I promise this one’s not a joke. What’s your favorite color?”

Leading the conversation turns out to be a challenge in and of itself. Soodam seems content (that is, as content as someone with the nerves of a meerkat can be) to answer your questions simply and efficiently, and doesn’t give you much to latch onto. Topics that don’t exactly spark anything in her up until your food arrives include family, school, and vacation destinations.

But the food itself makes her eyes glitter.

“You a big fan of chicken feet?” you ask. It’s rhetorical since you can see drool starting at the corners of her mouth.

Her sudden enthusiasm shocks you awake. “Yes! I love it! See, this is how you eat it, first...”

Soodam’s hands are a blur, grabbing utensils, disposable gloves, and bowls, all while describing the step-by-step process of optimizing the flavor of chicken feet. Before you know it, she’s holding a large, steaming spoon in your face, loaded with rice, sauce, and jiggling chicken cartilage. She stares into your eyes expectantly. It’s a slightly creepy look when it’s not accompanied by a smile, but you’ve already come to expect the awkwardness.

You open your mouth wide and she gently places the food in your mouth. The salt hits you first, then the herbs. You chew carefully since it’s still hot and experience that ever so slightly chewy texture. Then comes the burn. You feel your sinuses clear out and your eyes are watering within seconds. This shit is way hotter than you expected.

“Do you like it?” Soodam asks before you even have time to process all of the sensations.

Options for Part 9:

Of course you like it! This restaurant was a good choice.

Nah, you’re not really that big on chicken feet, but you hope she likes it!

(Picked:) You’ll have to answer that after you ICE YOUR TONGUE WHERE’S THE SODA

You cough once. That’s all it takes for the spice to coat every nook and cranny of your throat. It’s not like you don’t have your fair share of experience with spice, but something in this blend was clearly harvested from one of the rings of hell, because you can already feel your butt clenching in anticipation of the next few days of pain.

Your vision is foggy from the pain and glassy from the tears simultaneously, vaguely like a mirage. You’d call the combination a brilliant grey if you didn’t feel the severe need to pay a surprise visit to Starship Medical and get the blood ties behind your eyes checked out.

“Are you okay?” Soodam asks. Her voice sounds a little distant, like you’re recovering from the sound of a couple of gunshots being fired off on either side of your head.

“Y-hhh I’m fine,” you hiss. The way you’re fanning your eyes probably doesn’t project the same message. “All good vibes here!”

Soodam’s lips are quivering again, you’re pretty sure. “I… let me get you some water!”

It’s not a bad plan. You haven’t had to worry about this for a while, so you’re left trying to remember if water is supposed to help in this situation or make it worse. Or is that milk? Whatever, you already gambled on eating this cherry bomb of a chicken foot. What’s another roll of the dice on something ice cold? Fuck, even some mint chocolate ice cream would be paradise right about now.

At what feels like a caterpillar’s pace to you, Soodam gets a glass in your hand. You’re unsure of your coordination at the moment, but you yank it toward your face and find sweet relief in the refreshing, crisp taste of Coke Zero. Zero calories, zero sugar, great Coke taste! Together tastes better!

It seems the corporate sponsorship is staving off the pain for now. Things were getting a little meta there. You can still feel the spice at the back of your throat. It’s all but guaranteed to come back with a vengeance soon, but for Soodam, everything is worth it… you think. “Thanks,” you gasp.

“You’re… welcome. Sorry.”

“No, you’re fine Soodam. I needed this anyway. My pores were feeling clogged.”

“Really? I can… feed you more.”

You sigh.

Options for Part 10:

Yes, that was definitely not sarcasm. Please, she should feed you more.

(Picked:) You know, it’s funny, it turns out you’re not super hungry. She should eat the rest.

Okay, now she owes you one for attempted futaslaughter. Time for her to eat your ass.

“You know,” you say, still fanning your tongue between words, “It’s funny. It turns out that I’m not super hungry after all. You should eat the rest.”

Soodam’s eyes go wide. You’re sure you’ve said yet another thing to make her scared, nervous, or generally trepidatious, until she whispers, “All of it?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah? I mean if you want it all.”

Her gaze shifts from you to the bounty of food on the table and you think you see the twinkle of a forming tear. “A double order of chicken feet... The whole thing.”

“Um. Yes.”

Soodam sits back down, sparkling eyes fixed on the bounteous feast laid out before her. She lifts her various eating implements. Drool forms at the corners of her mouth. She glances up at you, still breathing briskly through pursed lips, and sets her utensils back down.

“I’m… being selfish. I’m sorry.”

“What? No really, I’m not hungry.”

“Thank you, but I mean all day today. I didn’t treat you like a real person at the salon. And now that we’re here I’m making it all about me.”

You’re a bit taken aback by the apparently very sudden self realization. You can only hope this is the last personality shift you see from Soodam. “Didn’t treat me like a person? I don’t know what you mean.”

Soodam sighs. Her eyebrows scrunch up in some inscrutable combination of frustration and sadness. “No, I… was nervous about the shoot, so I decided to treat you like you weren’t real. When you said you wanted a date… I panicked. I wanted my members to help me and I wanted to do everything like I was here alone… I didn’t take what you wanted into account.”

“Well, Soodam, that’s a little more explanation than I think you necessarily needed to provide, but I—members?”

“Yes. Of Secret Number. We… got rookie of the year a while ago.”

It’s no wonder. You’re always getting tied up in idols’ affairs. “And members? More than one?”

Soodam looks to the side. You follow her gaze. One of the people, a somewhat tan girl in an exercise outfit, sitting at a table near your booth looks back at you like a deer caught in the headlights. After a very awkward moment, she hops off her chair. “I’m going to—Oh hi by the way, I’m Dita. I’m gonna go. I know this is weird…”

“Hi Dita. Nice to meet you,” you say. No sense not being courteous.

“Nice to meet you too. Ummm, bye.” Dita slowly walks away as she gives Soodam the most hesitant half-smile, double-thumbs-up combo you’ve seen in a while.

You turn on Soodam once again. “Any more members? Or anyone else?”

She avoids your gaze. “No. Jinny and Lea... weren’t at the dorm.”

Options for Part 11:

(Picked:) It’s not the first time she’s said she’s nervous. Ask why. Surely the mood swings aren’t just because you’re cute.

You don’t need to know why she’s nervous. You can remedy that with a heavy, maybe naked make out session!

Wait. She wasn’t treating you like a human? Now that you know she’s an idol, that seems real high and mighty! Get out of there!

She probably just needs to air out her true feelings. Confess your love for her and suggest she do the same.

"So to be clear," you say, "You've never dated a girl before."

Soodam nods.

"But you said it's strange for girls to stare at each other."

Soodam nods.

"But you think I'm cute."

Soodam nods again.

"What am I missing that's making you so nervous then? Did the author miss a plot hole?"

Soodam starts nodding, but stops. Her eyebrows stitch together. “What?”

“Forget it. It’s just something I say sometimes. What’s got you so nervous?”

Without a hint of emotion in her voice, but plenty on her face, Soodam softly says, “I’m… an idol.”

“Yeah,” you say at a regular volume, “I gathered that in the last minute. What’s your point though?”

“There’s a dating ban.” Soodam tilts her head to the side as she explains. “And even worse, if it were to get out that I dated a girl… there would be trouble. Especially if people suspect that we...”

She stops speaking altogether. You’re fairly sure she would have said something about sex if she wasn’t Soodam. You lean back and think. It’s not that her point is wrong, exactly.

“Have you been to The Lounge, Soodam?”

Obviously confused, she slowly points at the entrance to the restaurant.

“No, and I think that’s a lobby. The Lounge is a cafe. I’ll take that as a no.”

Soodam shakes her head.

“Okay, so I think we should probably go there sometime so I can prove this point. Um. Yeah, you won’t get caught dating. Or doing anything for that matter.” The words come out of your mouth so fluidly it’s as if you’ve rehearsed this script.

“I don’t…”

“Well I guess if you try to get caught, you could do it.”

Now it’s Soodam’s turn to lean back, staring at you like you’re the crazy one. She still doesn’t have anything to say, so you do what you can to assure her.

“See, I’ve been working with idols for a while now. At least a few years. I’m telling you, idols regularly get up to the craziest stuff, and nobody ever gets caught.”

“That’s… absurd,” Soodam whispers. She’s not actually wrong, come to think of it. It’s not clear exactly how you and all of the idols you know get away with everything you’ve done and seen. But your confidence is unwavering.

You pull your phone out of your bag. “I understand the hesitation. Would you like to ask one yourself? I’ve got a hell of a contacts list. We can make it a video call.”

Soodam’s head tilt gets dangerously close to snapping her neck, but she looks down at your phone and back up, as if prompting you to go through with it.

Well alright. Who’s it going to be?

Options for Part 12:

(Picked:) Call Giselle and pray that SM doesn’t have her too busy to take the call.

Call Chuu and keep your fingers crossed that she doesn’t sound high.

Call Hani and try to count on her even remembering who you are.

Call Ryujin and hope she doesn’t seduce Soodam into leaving the date.

Call Minnie and presume that she won’t try to extort you for her help.

An SM idol seems like your best bet to convince someone that you have connections. And wouldn't you know it? Giselle is pretty close to the top of your contacts list.

Black Mamba plays quietly as you call. Soodam's eyes grow wide.

And there's no answer. Eventually the phone just shuts off. It doesn’t give you a chance to leave a voice message.

Now it's your turn to look nervous at Soodam. "Guess she must be bus—"

Your phone rings. Thank fuck, Giselle is calling back.

“Hey, what’s up? Sorry. I couldn’t reach my phone in time.”

Giselle’s face lights up your phone, only partially superimposed in the corner by the blank void where your selfie camera points back at your face. She’s wearing some strange, high fashion get up: An open jacket with pointy shoulders, half a pair of sunglasses (sun… monocle? sunmonocle), and a very very small fedora-like hat. She’s surrounded by dozens of staff in what looks to be yet another Givenchy promo shoot.

“Sup Jizzy? I’ve got a friend here who, it turns out, is an idol like you!" You turn the phone around. Soodam freezes like a deer in the headlights.

"Oooh! Girl, obviously I know Soodam."

Soodam slaps her hands over her mouth. You respond for her. "Really? How's that?"

"Secret Number is a big deal. You should know that. Besides, gotta keep an eye on those Japanese idols. If you don—" The phone cuts out for a moment. "—ut Lea's super chill from what I hear."

You laugh, partially to widen the break in Giselle’s speech. She can go on forever sometimes. "So here's the thing Jizzy. We're on a date, but Soodam is worried about getting caught."

"What? Why?"

You nod at Soodam, who hasn't so much as twitched. "You wanna tell her?"

She doesn't lower her hands, and barely whispers, "Dating ban…"

That's all Giselle needs, it seems, as she jumps back into it. "Oh don't worry about that. It's literally impossible to get caught. Check this out. Hey manager! Yeah! Hey! I just got a call from a chick with a gorgeous cock! You cool if I take a break to go meet up with her so she can eat me out?"

There's a moment of silence. Giselle seems to be waiting for a response. Soodam looks terrified, but that's nothing new. You're slightly shocked at having been randomly outed and at Giselle’s brazenness.

"Aw, he says no. But that's no surprise. I'm actually working right now. But look at that! A whole room of people heard me say that and their only concern is that I might take a break. Hey you! You heard me just now right? Why did I want a break again? Oh you don't remember? Shame. I wanted to go get fucked. By a futa gir—"

You quickly turn the phone back around.

Options for Part 13:

Interrupt Giselle. She shouldn't be pushing her luck with this weirdness! Shut up!

(Picked:) Ask Giselle when the next time is that you'll meet up to fuck. Kill two birds with one video call.

Hang up! You didn’t mean to reveal that to Soodam and now you need to do damage control.

"Hey! Hey! Jizzy! Shush! Don't push your luck," you hiss. Though, maybe like Giselle, you don't actually have to contain your voice. "But no, really. Not right now. I gotta go because I'm on a date, but when are we going to meet up next?"

"Like the next time you destroy my holes, you mean? You busy on Sunday?"

"Nope, let's do it! Text me a time."

"Ha, yeah girl! I'll see you then. Keep your cock warm in the new girl for m—Oh, good to meet you Soodam! Get my number from her and we can meet in person! Byyye!"

You smile, wave, and tap the button to hang up. What a fun girl, that Giselle…

Oh shit, that was a huge change in tone from the rest of the date.

You look up to see Soodam staring at you like a deer in the headlights. Or, you know, like Soodam.

You gingerly set the phone down next to you on the seat. "Sorry. Bad manners to talk to other people on a date."

She doesn't move. Actually, after spending a certain amount of time with Soodam, you think "deer in the headlights" might not be a strong enough idiom. She's like a… Buddha... mannequin.

"And sorry for not telling you a few other important factors about dati—"

"You're… poly?" Oh damn, Soodam can still speak.

"I guess that's one way to put it. It's hard to define, but that's a pretty efficient way to put it. I probably should have brought it up before the date, but I didn't want to sound too presumptu—"

"CanIjoin?" This girl is really getting into the habit of interrupting you. Wait.

"Sorry, what?"

"Can… I join?" Soodam speaks between inward breaths. She's going to explode soon if she doesn't exhale.

"Just like that? I mean this our first date, and…" Your tongue goes a little numb. You can't remember the last time you turned someone down. Is that even what you're doing?

"Yes. Can I." Intake. "Be one of." Intake. "Your girlfriends?" Her face is getting red, but you can't tell if it's because she's holding her breath or if it's your run of the mill blush. Probably both.

That was forward of her. You think.

Options for Part 14:

Yeah, you're turning her down. This date has been extremely… unconventional. Not interested.

Of course she can be one of your girlfriends. You've been trying to tap that this whole time.

(Picked:) Girlfriends? Poly? Hold up. You don't define your relationships. This requires a much longer discussion.

“I… um.” You stutter. But for the sake of Soodam’s presumably precious lungs, you should probably make up your mind.

“Sorry, Soodam. I really don’t want to reject you, and I’m not, but I don’t like putting labels on my relationships. It wouldn’t be fair to… some other people if I just said yes.”

Soodam’s lips quiver and her eyes start waterin—oh no, you made her cry! Fuck! That’s now how this is supposed to work! “No, Soodam! I’m sorr—“

“Ohthankgod,” she says through a quickly released breath. She leans over the table, clutching at her chest.

“Thank?”

“I don’t know what came over me… why I asked that. I’m not ready to date. I’m… Oh god, Giselle knew my name, and…”

You stare at the top of her heaving head. She didn’t mean it when she asked to be your girlfriend? Well, now you’re a little hurt. She sort of technically said you were cute earlier… “I mean, I’m not ready to date either. But, you know, like, I was really considering it. I would just need, like, some convincing.”

Soodam falls back against her seat, fanning her face, still working on regulating her breathing. “No, that’s okay… I really can’t date… Too weird.”

“Too weird? Is it about me being a futa? Because, like, that’s not always the ca—”

She interrupts, again, a little more in control of herself. “That’s not what I mean. It’s relationships. I can’t… take that much attention.”

You stare at each other for a few moments. “Like this?” you ask, realizing you’re being very attentive suddenly.

Soodam rips her eyes away from yours and nods rapidly. “I like the idea… of being with someone pretty like you.” You can feel your self esteem re-enter your body. “I just don’t think I can… love?”

Oooh, heavy.

“You still want to spend time together without being romantic?” you ask.

She looks back into your eyes just long enough to convey that she’s being genuine when she nods. You smile back and hold out your hand, a little off to the side to avoid dipping your elbow in hell’s favorite chicken feet sauce. “May I make a suggestion then? Like a real one.”

Soodam shifts under her cardigan into a slightly more relaxed pose. Her face still seems to be expressing some amount of consternation, but you’re starting to catch on to the concept that it might just be her permanent state of being, like it’s her personal twist on resting bitch face. But even so, the corners of her mouth twitch upward.

Options for Part 15:

You can just be good friends! With the single stipulation that you occasionally hold hands in public, no matter how lewd that is.

(Picked:) Come on. Say it with yourself now. Friends. With. Benefits. Ain’t nothing wrong with some emotionally aloof butt-fucking!

You know, you still have to pick and edit the stuff from her photoshoot, and you could use help. Ask if she wants to be your coworker!

"If you like the idea of, you know, being together," You pause to watch Soodam slowly nod. "But you don't want to do a relationship, which I also don't, to reiterate," You pause again. Same reaction. "But you are totally cool with maybe perhaps staying friends, which I love the idea of," She doesn't nod this time. Instead, one side of her mouth wiggles up. It may look a little hesitant, but it sure seems like the most genuine… or only smile you've seen from her today.

"We could maybe, if it's cool, try a situation like, say,"

"Gal pals?!" Soodam's outburst makes you jump a little, and gets some dirty looks from the surrounding restaurant patrons.

You take a second to process. "Wait, gal pals?"

Soodam nods, very enthusiastically now.

"I thought you didn't want the romance."

"What?"

"Gal pal is a romantically coded term."

"It just means… girls who are friends but has a secret connotation that they have sex sometimes."

"Who told you that?"

Soodam's smile fades. It was nice while it lasted. "I… looked it up."

"It's about… okay, you're technically correct, but the general implications is that the titular 'gals' who are being 'pals' are actually in a committed relationship with each other."

She snatches your hand, which you suddenly remember has been floating over the table for a while now. "No! That's not what… what do you call lesbian friends with benefits then?"

You smirk. At least you were going in the same direction. "Um, 'friends with benefits?' But there's space to make adjustments to the terminology."

"Are you sure it's not 'gal pals?' Why does it have to be romantic?" Soodam gives you an unexpectedly angry glare, catching you off guard. Her grip on your hand gets a little tight.

"I just—"

"Who told you that's the case?"

You suddenly don't recall. Maybe it's best to relent. "I… good point. Let's be gal pals then?"

The smile isn't so hesitant and lopsided this time. Her eyes make way for a single dimple. "Okay."

The rest of the date feels like more of a… well, a date. Soodam opens up and actually engages in conversation, even if she's still awkward and very to the point about most subjects. She annihilates the chicken feet throughout, not even noticing that you steal the occasional spoonful of rice (there's no way you'll be incinerating your soft palate just because you're a bit hungry).

A few times, she makes a little flirtatious move on you: a brush of the foot on your leg, a stroke of the finger on the back of your hand, a bite of the lip when you make eye contact. It's somewhere between juvenile and impossibly arousing. The sun has gone down outside by the time you even think to tear your eyes from her to look at the time. A skinny young man in an apron walks by and subtly reminds the two of you that the restaurant is trying to close, and you're the only ones left.

Outside, you catch a glimpse of the coffee shop across the street, Denise and Dita in the window. They're clearly still trying to evade detection, but being the only people with a reason to use binoculars at night in a public space gives them away.

Soodam catches your hand. "I guess this is bye for now."

"I guess so. I'm glad we met up, Soodam."

"Me too… pal." She grins far too widely at her single entendre. She turns you to fully face her and goes in for a hug, face pressed against your shoulder. You return the gesture, trying not to laugh at your own speculative mental image of her members' reaction on the other side of the street.

"Can we meet again soon?" she asks, muffled.

"Of course…" You remember a very good reason to meet again soon. "I have to get your pictures to you."

There's a long pause. Maybe mentioning several gigabytes of lewd and nude photos of your date isn't the best way to end the night. But then, the hint of mischievousness in her voice tells you it wasn't all that bad.

"Actually, can I… help you pick them?"

You pull away from the hug enough to see Soodam's lip-biting grin.

"Oh dear, Soodam. How suggestive."

The hug itself gets a little more suggestive when her fingers trail down and squeeze your ass. "I'm not suggesting anything… Are you?"

"Of course not. It will be a perfectly normal, friendly day of looking at your naked pictures."

"Day?"

"Or night. You pick."

"Hm. A day sounds good. That will give you more time to figure it out."

"Figure it out? Figure what out?"

Soodam's grip on your buttcheeks becomes extra brazen, curling inward and kneading. "That I won't be wearing panties, like today."

You feel like you should say something about how you no longer have to figure that out since she told you, but your curiosity and latent horniness overwhelm you. You start to reach for her butt to get your hands on it the same way her hands are on yours, or maybe you can go under her skirt. That perfect, bubble-round butt that you've tried so hard not to think about since arriving at the restaurant is so close! So ready for your touch!

But Soodam backs off. Your fingertips merely brushed her hips, and your own ass suddenly felt very lonely and unsqueezed. "Text me your address if you want me… to come over."

Even in your mild daze, you catch on. That particular pause was much more intentional than most. You shudder. This girl might be more seductive than she's been letting on.

"Friday. Yep, Friday is good. I'll send you my address tonight."

Before you can react, Soodam is millimeters away from your face. She gives you a chaste peck on the corner of your mouth and drops back. "Don't look at the pictures until then, okay?"

Soodam is walking away by the time you regain enough of your senses to speak again. The sway of her frustratingly opaque and barely too long skirt don't help."H-hey! What was the photoshoot for, anyway?"

You can barely make out the blush on her cheeks in the dim street light as she turns back to you. "I'll… tell you on Friday."

The anticlimactic answer pains you as much as the sight of her slowly shrinking silhouette. When she turns a corner, you finally get the unfortunate relief of not watching her.

Another day, a little more than just another photoshoot. It really was an interesting one.

Thank fuck for that overused plot device.

THE END

Heylo, thank you for bearing with joining me for another one of these! Sorry for the, uh, drawn out time frame. But like... it happens.

Anyway, on to the stuff!

Storyline unlocks:

[Soodam - PromiScoodam]

[Giselle - Ally]

Unpicked option facts:

Part 1: No lie, the studio was going to be called salon érotique regardless of the option picked. This is a SMUT.

Part 3: Damn, nobody wanted smut in this SMUT apparently. No votes for anything except the fluffy option. Obviously this would have been a very different story overall if not for this.

Part 4: If the vote had been to call her out for rudeness, I was going to write her as a more dominant personality moving forward.

Part 7: The Monty Python reference was not in my original outline. I hadn't thought of an option that would reveal Denise and Dita up to that point, so I tossed it in as half a joke. The no questions option was meant to make it more rom-com as she'd have stumbled around over two different explanations in her ear.

Part 10: While not a fun fact about the options, this part was fun to write because I accidentally incorporated a couple references to other writers' stories that I enjoyed, and eventually decided to go back and fill it with more of that.

Part 12: Calling Chuu and Hani were the "bad" options, resulting in Soodam not believing you. It wouldn't have ended the story, but would have made her very suspicious of you. Ryujin was a sex option because Soodam was going to get hot and bothered and basically jump you. And Minnie would have turned out much the same as Giselle, but I would have swapped Minnie out of Sorry for Shuhua (not for any good reason, but just to not repeat idols so quickly).

Part 13: Y'all caught me off guard with this vote. I thought you were trying to keep the story pure, but nooo. I had already started writing Part 14 as if one of the other two options had been picked, but then the overwhelming majority was like "Kk, sex talk time." Not that I especially mind, but it was a funny switch up.

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hexgunhomebase · 11 months

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Basic Concept of the AU

———————————————

Mainly inspired by the manga with a bit of ‘98 anime influence. I haven’t seen Stampede yet so forgive me for that.

Firstly, like Plants, Independents can go into final runs when they’ve either reached the end of their lifespan or when they’ve completely run out of power and their hair is all black.

Second, Knives didn’t cause the Great Fall in this AU. He still dislikes humans, but he doesn’t hate them the same as in canon. He will let a few select humans close to him, and can be quite protective of those few if he actually likes them.

With those points out of the way I’ll now go into the prologue/story/idea/concept that I first had for this AU to begin with.

Tesla was born and found first, similar to canon, and she still gets experimented on to a disgusting degree. (Sorry Tes, maybe in another AU I’ll let you live a proper happy life, but for this story you are once again an important plot device). Knives and Vash still find her, however this time Knives is around to listen to Rem explain how she isn’t going to let this happen again. Vash will remain a true pacifist, but Knives does not become a genocidal maniac. He is aware that not all humans are bad but had the firm belief that people will not change unless they truly want to.

This is going to be an extremely long post. I apologize for that.

At some point after this, Tesla goes into her Final Run. This causes the ships computers to malfunction horribly and the crew is doing everything they can to save things. Rem, realizing that even if they can fix the malfunctions that the ships will still crash, sends Knives and Vash out in an escape pod. The main ship Rem is on explodes, the seed ships still crash but as safely as possible, and Knives and Vash are stranded on the desert planet along with the humans.

I really have no clue how to make proper timelines right now, I’m tired please and thank you.

At some point in between the Great Fall and where both canon and this AU’s stories start proper, our favorite twins get separated. Vash is caught by the Eye of Michael and is used by the church as a power source for their town for years. Though he is rescued and starts traveling with his saviors eventually. Knives gets caught by a separate group but escapes on his own within a year or two.

Some extra info on how Vash escaped.

Vash’s situation is discovered by an already adult and experimented on Wolfwood and Livio. They don’t do anything other than chat with our lonely plant and get attached to him at first because of the orphanage being used against them. Then the church fucks up and the orphanage gets destroyed. With nothing left to lose our boys take Vash and get the hell outta dodge.

The main story/where the story starts.

Knives is an outlaw with a 30 billion double dollar bounty on his head. (Vash also has a bounty for the same amount, this is important.) Knives is traveling the planet looking for his brother, while making sure his sisters are being properly taken care of along the way. During his travels he runs into Milly and Meryl, where they promptly mistake him for Vash. The insurance girls were sent to watch after the less murderous twin, but after the misunderstanding is cleared up decide to follow Knives instead.

One more we’re almost done I promise.

Meanwhile, Vash is also traveling the desert looking for his brother, doing his best to avoid the Eye of Michael for the sake of his friends. Wolfwood and Livio continue to stay by Vash’s side, hoping that once they find Knives he’ll help them convince Vash that the Eye can only be dealt with in a… more permanent way.

Whooo! That’s the basic info. Still figuring shit out but that the basic concept that’s been rattling round in my hollow ass skull for weeks now. I’ll probably reblog this onto my main page so yes, hi, it’s polygenderroulette. And yes, I made a blog just for this au. The hyperfixation is real with this one.

#trigun #trigun au #hexgun #hexgun a trigun au #infodump #long post #srry

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hangfiretales · 1 year

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Writeblr Positivity Tag

1. What motivates you to write?

Vibes. Art and music and poetry give me randoms feelings (usually a vague strange nostalgia) and then I try to convert it into a plot and characters. Plot never comes naturally (dammit). My motivation to finish writing is just stubborn masochism.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

From Terrellus, my fantasy murder mystery novella WIP:

Each new house clustered against its neighbours like oyster shells, tacked in heaving spars of timber and offset pointed towers. The whole was painted pennant bright in rust-red and the particular green of the malachite pigment Terrellus had always favoured, within the walls and out.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

From the same WIP: it’s Belacanth, the diplomat who Yen is sent to investigate:

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most? Editing, absolutely. Writing the first few drafts, for me, is painful and laborious and just generally a fucking dreadful experience punctuated by rare giddy ecstasy for two or three pages. Editing is less about invention and more about making the most of the mess you have, which says more about my approach to life than I realised...

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I’m not sure what I’m best at but I really, really enjoy writing dialogue. The gap between what people mean and what they say is where conflict and magic lie.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Seeing that the misery and satisfaction of writing are universal parts of the process. Writing is lonely (apart from the times when we get to infodump about our latest worldbuilding ideas) and I was never that active on Twitter even before it became Hell Pit 2.0 so it’s comforting to be part of this community 💙

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Cold Turkey to keep social media controlled, and Scrivener to write with. For this WIP I’m using Notion as an inspiration board, and it’s so beautiful that I’m trialing drafting there to see how the functionality goes.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

Terrellus is a city-state in a 16th century Venetian-flavoured world, where most people are blissfully illiterate and stories are held and recited by professional poets. Every guild has a Needlehouse where lace makers and embroiderers make textiles and robes showing the family’s history. Also there’s a basic universal wage (it’s escapism okay)

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Stop writing that and write something really, truly fun, whatever works for you, fluff or torture or nerdy worldbuilding. Try to remember why you started writing in the first place! Then try to finish writing the other thing, and if you can incorporate the fun bits, even better.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters. Thank you @chromehoplite for the tag! 🖤 I’m tagging @villainoxs @thatmysterywriter @aralezinspace but I KNOW there are more of you with juicy WIPs so if you see this, consider yourself tagged. And please tag me in the reply if you want to play so I can see what everyone is up to 🖤

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mystery-moose · 1 year

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BOOKS: The Three-Body Problem!

Sometimes I read books! This time I read The Three-Body Problem, by Cixin Liu!

This was an odd read! As a whole? I think this is a wildly interesting science fiction novel to unpack, and I’m excited to read the sequels!

As a single novel, with prose and dialogue and what-all? Eh! It’s kinda stiff and really expository (and I’m accounting for the translation here!) plus some characters get lost or go entirely unmentioned after a certain point, and there’s worldbuilding stuff that raises more questions than answers. It kinda feels like it suffers from problems of serialized fiction, in some ways, which makes sense since that’s how it was initially published. It introduces threads and characters and then quickly drops them when it doesn’t need them, or throws out a concept just to use it as a plot device and for nothing else.

That being said? Yo this novel’s got some STUFF to SAY, and that counts for a LOT.

(I liked it and would recommend it! If you want to read more detailed thoughts, hey, spoilers, wow!)

The opening is maybe my favorite part, or the part I feel is the strongest. We’re thrust into this depiction of the Cultural Revolution in China in the ‘60s, and we see and feel the trauma that this causes through the eyes of our protagonist, Ye Wenjie. It’s bloody and ugly and, more than anything, stupid! The depiction of the infighting between various Red Guard factions, the way they cling to ideology over reason or rationality or even basic sense, the way the young are driven to murder and madness in the name of some greater cause, echoes throughout the rest of the novel in some really fundamental ways.

But once we get past that opening and meet our other point of view character, Wang Miao, the story kind of loses momentum and the prose takes a bit of a hit. I give some significant leeway for translation, of course, but the sort of dialogue and conversations that Wang Miao has are often stiff and expository, and the transitions between scenes or chapters the same way. Sometimes I lost track of what time of day it was, or what day of the week it was, or how much time had passed in just a single paragraph. This made reading through the second act of the book, at least the non-flashback sections, a bit of a chore.

There are interesting threads to follow at least — the mystery of the countdown that appears only for Wang, the cold war that the world governments are starting to fight against the ETO, the nature of the ETO itself, why this other society of scientists wants him to halt his nanomaterial research… there’s a lot of cool mysteries to wonder about, and those hooked me to keep reading even through the occasional stilted conversation about some scientific concept or another.

The virtual reality game and v-suits and such were a sudden leap I had to simply accept to proceed, but their introduction felt kind of wild! I understand both textually and thematically why they exist — the concept of a virtual reality, one that can be authored and controlled and show only what it wants to show, is in conversation with the rest of the authorities in the novel attempting to control and manipulate information for their own goals. It also gives us a window into the history of Trisolaris, as it’s eventually revealed that we’re being shown an abridged form of their development. That being said… I dunno, anytime you just throw haptic-feedback full-dive VR suits into your setting, I immediately have a million questions! I guess it does more good than harm to the narrative, but it is maybe one too many flavors in the broth, metaphorically speaking.

Not every concept is awkward inserted, though. I appreciated learning how Ye Wenjie learned how to send a signal that could be heard by interstellar civilizations, and how she managed to do it basically under the nose of her command. I appreciated how there were political considerations to this as well — the symbolism of shooting a signal at the sun, when the sun is often used to represent Mao and socialism. Even after the Cultural Revolution had “ended,” there were still political considerations and aftereffects that lingered and caused needless complications.

Speaking of complications, the ETO! I loved how that organization broke down into factions, one devoted to mankind’s extinction and the other out to “redeem” mankind by saving the Trisolaran people, objects of their worship. I loved how you could understand, solely through the text of the novel and the events depicted, why people would give up on humanity as a whole, why they would become disillusioned both with capitalism and Maoist socialism, and why they would yearn for an outside force to save/destroy them. And I loved the nature of the aliens themselves! I loved that we never saw them, not really, only got the basics of their lives and societal structure. But how similar they were, or felt, to the Cultural Revolution idea, of devoting themselves to a single idea and how that devotion robbed them of compassion or emotion. And then how they send their supercomputers ahead to “lock” human science down, robbing us of our ability to know and advance, in much the same way the Cultural Revolution killed Ye’s father for daring to teach the science that came before him, even if it did not come from China, even if it was (by some strange rubric) “reactionary” science.

I also want to single out the sequence of Ye Wenjie living in the village outside of Red Coast, where she gave birth. The brief moment of happiness she has, the view of humanity that she gets from the hunters and farmers and their wives, the community that helps her and respects her. That was a beautiful little moment, and it did a great job making us understand her perspective, see the beauty that she saw, and wish that she would change her mind from the course she’d set. But of course she didn’t, couldn’t, because she could still see the deforestation, the injustices of the Red Guard, and saw no future in which humanity could allow its own beauty to flourish. That was a well-executed piece of tragedy!

The meeting with her father’s murderers was similarly impactful! How each of them had suffered from the Cultural Revolution, been punished and made miserable in their own way by the society and culture that had created them and drove them to what they did… that was handled with a great deal of nuance and understanding, both of the characters and of the circumstances that create tragedies like her father’s murder. And her mother! Oh, pushing her mother away because she refuses to take her own responsibility for what happened to her husband… absolutely tragic, but also absolutely understandable.

The ending is a bit abrupt, and does feel a bit unfinished, ending largely with the long expository sequence on Trisolaris where we see the alien’s plan (as deduced through the communications they kept with the Adventists). The building of the single-proton supercomputers created some extremely cool images, and was (I presume) based on a lot of very interesting and likely plausible science. The proton that unfolded into a giant eye that attempted to destroy them was probably my favorite part! Especially how it’s almost immediately dismissed as impossible to ethically untangle destroying sentient civilizations that are so alien they exist outside of our dimension, but they still spread that around as propaganda because it is useful to deaden the emotional response their people have to destroying other civilizations to preserve their own.

The themes of the novel feel so tangled up — history, science, knowledge, government, authority, propaganda, humanism — and yet they all hang together, all seem to be asking the same questions, pointing towards the same problems of power and authority and a lack of compassion, both on an individual level and a societal one. The book cares a lot about science, about what is “true” and “real” that cannot and should not be denied by any authority just because it goes against their ideology or is inconvenient. But it also goes to great pains to illustrate that even the most fundamental laws of our reality can be obscured by greater powers, that none of us are immune to propaganda, and that only unfiltered, uncontrolled knowledge can give us the truth that we need to make informed decisions about reality and the world we live in.

And it ends on a message of… if not hope, then a lack of despair! We’ve tried forever to eradicate bugs, and yet bugs persist. We each possess the ability to kill dozens, hundreds, thousands with the tools at hand, to protect crops or disease or annoyance, and despite everything, they persist. Resistance, then, is necessary, moral, righteous, even so woefully outmatched — because no matter how hard they try, they cannot defeat everyone.

I read a bit of the postscript the author wrote for the English edition, and despite their protestations that this is not a work about our contemporary world, that ending couldn’t feel more political to me.

#the three body problem #books #man what a wild novel #i don't care what mr. cixin liu says #this is an extremely political work #i knew that from the opening page tbh!

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bookaddict24-7 · 2 years

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REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Books I’ve read so far in 2022!

Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!

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139. Brooklynaire by Sarina Bowen--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Listen, I read this hella out of order. But you know, sometimes life happens and I just want to read a potentially spicy book, reading order be damned.

I love Sarina Bowen and she delivered with this one. In fact, I now want to go and read the other books in this series! I loved that we got both perspectives and a kind of weird in between perspective because I want to see the pining. This was a pretty sweet friends to lovers and it had a couple of pretty good spicy scenes. I wasn't a big fan of something that happened near the end, but I'm glad that Bowen gave us communication and that it wasn't a plot device that dragged the novel on. One last thing: I also really wanted to read this because I heard that it had good disability rep for the female MC's experiences after an accident. Hopefully I'll be reading more books in this series soon! Also, sorry if this review is a mess LOL.

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140. An Arrow to the Moon by Emily X.R. Pan--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I received a copy from the publisher. This did not affect my rating in any way. TW: Physical abuse, verbal abuse, toxic parenting I was NOT expecting a couple of things before I picked this book up: One, the time that it is set in (the 90s!), and two, how much I would enjoy this! This is the second book I've read this year that re-imagines the beautiful Chinese mythology about the moon goddess. While both stories are vastly different, I really appreciated seeing another interpretation and adaptation of this classic tale--especially with the Romeo & Juliet twist. I wanted to give Hunter the biggest hug because it really seemed like everything was against him. The moment the story started getting a little more fantastical, I grew more excited for him because maybe he could finally have a way out of his circumstances. Luna was also someone I think could have benefitted from a hug, especially when her life started to change for the worse. I think these two worked really well together because they helped each other see and perhaps understand two different experiences and perspectives of the immigrant experience--the Taiwanese immigrant experience especially. Which brought up a really important conversation about Taiwanese versus Chinese identity that is sometimes a sore subject with Taiwan-born citizens. But I only know the briefest facts about the topic, so take what I'm saying with a grain of salt. I really enjoyed the different perspectives because it gave me a more rounded idea of what everyone was feeling and it kind of reminded me of how the Romeo and Juliet play were presented. There are a lot of things I could comment about this book (like Hunter's younger brother and his own character journey, or how the world was becoming a manifestation of these two characters' love and chemistry and how maybe it wasn't meant for this world), but the main thing I want to end this review on was that conclusion. As I write this, I am imagining that final chapter in my mind and how it would look. It was definitely something unexpected and memorable. I'd recommend this for anyone who wants a quick and heartfelt adaptation of Romeo & Juliet with a magically Chinese twist!

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141. The Fear by Natasha Preston--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Was this book perfect? No. Is the wild ending worth it? Yes.

I love YA thrillers because they sometimes surprise the hell out of me in a way that adult thrillers fail to do. I really enjoyed this one because it dared to be more murdery than other YA thrillers. Also, the plot was unique in how the murders were carried out. The motivation behind the murders wasn't entirely original, but the way they were carried out was. One of the things that DID bug me was the MC's inability to deviate from her determination to accuse one person. My friend brought up the fact that she was grieving and she's a teenager--which is all true and I agree, but it was frustrating watching this character willingly ignore things because of her mind already being made up. It's funny how some books I empathize with the characters and books like this one have me wanting to smack the MC. Anyway, this wasn't at all what I was expecting and I'm really glad I picked it up. Maybe I'll read more books by this author!

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142. Meet Me Halfway by Lilian T. James--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TW: Physical and Verbal abuse, Single Mom shaming, Slut shaming I read this book in a disgustingly short amount of time. I don't mean audiobook--I mean I physically read my KU version of this book so quickly because I COULD NOT PUT THIS DOWN. I loved this book so much more than I was anticipating. I loved the characters, the enemies to friends to lovers trope, the gruff and quiet love interest, the age gap, the single young mom trope, and the hella slow burn. I devoured this and I have zero regrets. The MC's connection with her son is absolutely adorable and their exchanges added so much life to this book. I also really wanted her to succeed because she was the epitome of an underestimated single mom who will always put her son first. I also loved that the romance wasn't instant. It was something that both characters worked at and as it developed, we organically got to know the love interest. Also, the love interest sounded....phew. He sounded beautiful. I do want to say that I heavily encourage you to look at the trigger warnings for this one. There are some incredibly triggering scenes in this and allusions to past triggering events. I loved this book and I feel like if you love all of the things I mentioned in the first paragraph of this review, then you'll probably love this one too!

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143. Severance by Ling Ma--⭐️⭐️⭐️

This book took a while for me to like. At first, I was thrown off by all of the time jumps and intertwining storylines. I started to finally appreciate it about midway, when the proverbial shit hit the fan. I think what I liked most about this book was how uncomfortably relatable this book is and it was written years before the events of late 2019 that led us to where we are now. I always see books like this and appreciate the fact that though our societies are still trying to recover from the pandemic, it never got THAT bad. Also, I found this to be a unique take on an illness that weirdly enough made people into the drones that the synopsis says the MC is when she works in the office. I'm sure we could talk about all of the allusions and commentary on the millennial experience in the work force and society as a whole, but I'm going to leave this review as a simple thing: I enjoyed this, was confused at times and felt eh at others, but the overall experience was enjoyable. Also, if you're triggered by talk of pandemics, deaths, and dead cities, be aware!

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144. The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson--⭐️⭐��⭐️⭐️

I'm not much of a nonfiction reader, but I really wanted to learn more about the serial killer mentioned in this book. It's always fascinated me and I feel like this author gave me a really in-depth exploration of who that person was. While I understand why multiple storylines (weird to say this since it's historical nonfiction) were explored, I found it sometimes tedious having to listen to the info about the World Fair and how it came to be. I did enjoy the factoids about the things that were introduced to society because of the World Fair and the famous people that were born from it. I liked how Larson introduced these little facts almost as revelations at the end of a paragraph. Made it feel less like dry nonfiction. It's macabre, but I also really enjoyed reading about how dangerous life was back then. Us humans are so fragile and seeing how easily life could end back then really put a lot in perspective. Also, Larson seriously held back zero punches when describing certain deaths. If you're going into this one solely for the true crime aspect, keep in mind that Larson's gift is in creating the atmosphere and to do so, he tells you everything. For example, instead of saying "he had a knife," Larson will tell you where the knife came from and the shockwaves that were created from the person having the knife or the knife getting to the person. Okay, now I'm just rambling.

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Have you read any of these? Would you recommend them?

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Happy reading!

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rec-diary · 8 months

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Abre los ojos

“It was a lot of things.”

”And I am here for it. Tell me all those things."

Yes. All the things. A murder mystery. Vanity. Dreams within dreams. Non linear storytelling. A vivacious woman. Sci-fi elements. Sanity. And this uncanniness of knowing something feels wrong but not knowing how to word that feeling.

Vanilla Sky uses dreams to express the theme of escapism, at least that’s what it feels like to me. Sofia, with her spontaneity and love for life, is a symbolic escape from dreary outlooks that tend to cripple everyone sooner or later. L.E. is a business that thrives on selling escapist fantasies, by offering the consumer a chance to live out ‘life’ in a world of their own making once they die. Julie commits suicide as a last resort, because she cannot reconcile with her reality of unrequited love.

Masks. Identity. Image. David had already been wearing a metaphoric mask before the accident, living up to his playboy image. Julie desperately wears the mask of cool nonchalance to repress her flames of frustration. Brian however, does not seem to not have one though. He feels like the most human character. But are you really a person without a couple personas?

The movie ends with Sofia’s voice: Open your eyes. But it also begins with that. Which is slightly strange because David had not met Sofia yet. Is the entire thing a loop happening in David’s dreamscape? What is reality anymore? The lines are clearly more than blurred, and they don’t look like lines anymore.

My only gripe with this one is regarding Sofia- the writing made her less of a character and more of a plot device. The trope of the manic pixie dream girl who shows up to make the sad hero less sad and then dies. I love the crazy fun character that says crazy fun things, I hate that they are often just used to further the protagonist's growth and discarded. Sofia is caricaturised to a concept, an idea, and not a person. That’s what David falls in love with- the idea of her, the symbol of her.

Then there’s the duality of the mind and the body. Bodies making promises to each other. Minds closing themselves off with masks and layers and covers. There are lots of empty shots too. Loneliness, the yearning for meaningful but real connections as contrasted with the allusion of a perfect made-up connection.

"Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around."

In the end, David chooses to wake up. To live reality with the pain that it brings - “you’re dead and I’m frozen”. David chooses to jump, and upon impact, (remember he tells he is scared of heights because of the impact and not the heights itself), he opens his eyes.

Finally?

Finally, I hope.

We must choose. The choice may in the end prove to be a vain illusion, considering how all things end, but you cannot progress onwards without choosing to take that step forward. And David has made that choice, for better or for worse.

It doesn’t matter. The skies will always be vanilla, anyways.

"The little things. There’s nothing bigger, is there?"

#movie #mystery #psychology

0 notes

joysofescapism · 8 months

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Book Review: Anarchy at Prescott High by C.M. Stunich

There’s one mistake you don’t make at Prescott High, not unless you want me to ruin you. Do not touch my beautifully broken Havoc Boys. Harbin, Fadler, Channing-Blackbird, Montauk, and Park.

Death stalks the halls of Prescott High. Once upon a time, my best friend betrayed me. For over a year, I let that two-faced bitch go. But not anymore.

This time, she’s stirred up the devil in me. We’re finishing up my list; we’re setting our sights higher; we’re taking control of this city. The VGTF, the detective, the pretty young cop.

It doesn’t matter. Because we are Havoc, and I no longer have limits. My boys have corrupted me, and we’re more than happy to bathe in the blood of our enemies.

You can read my quick review below the cut.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Yes. That’s the initial reaction.

Anarchy at Prescott High.

I feel like the buffet has finally brought out the best dishes. The previous ones, I could say were either appetizers or something that was just alright. But this one? Oh boy.

Bernie went toe-to-toe with one of her biggest disappointments, Kali Rose. If it weren’t for daddy Aaron getting the fuck out of the clutches of the enemy, Bernadette Blackbird would be a dead bird.

Now, she has finally seen the consequences of her actions and the ending of Anarchy at Prescott High showed some character development from her.

Although, new plot devices came in too late into the series. Trinity Jade. James Barasso. The Grand Murder Party. I guess an antagonist bigger than Pamela Pence and Ophelia Mars was needed.

But hey, it worked! So, I don’t need to have any complaints. Let’s see what’s in store for us at the conclusion of this series.

4 stars. Hands down.

I’m giving Anarchy at Prescott High 4 stars for keeping me on the edge of my seat. I felt like I was gripping my pearls throughout the book, goddamn. This is by far my favorite in the series.

Next!

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#book review #the havoc boys series #anarchy at prescott high #author: c.m. stunich #romance #whychoose #reverse harem #crime fiction #dark fiction #juvenile characters #rating: 4/5 stars #spice level: 5/5

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huenjin · 3 years

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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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