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geekgirl-1717 · 1 day

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Runaway Cat and Runaway Heart

Seth Lowell x Reader

Tags: sfw, fluff, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, a little bit of smooching at the end. gender-neutral reader and no use of (y/n). 6.3k words

this catboy has me in a chokehold rn

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

You tried to steady your breathing, fighting against the panic rising in your chest. You could feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, and you furiously blinked them away.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

You needed to stay calm if you were going to resolve this situation.

It had started with a harmless mistake. You hadn’t given it a second thought when you’d left your front door open while retrieving a package. You’d stepped outside for mere seconds, and your cat had always been so well-behaved that it never even occurred to you that she would try to run away.

Now here you were, pacing frantically up and down the sidewalks of Lumina Square, futilely reassuring yourself that your precious furry baby was okay and that you’d find her safe and sound. You spared a glance at the sprawling maze of roads and crosswalks zig-zagging through the city center, feeling the rush of air against your skin as cars zipped past endlessly, and the tears threatened to spill over your cheeks again as you imagined the worst-case scenario.

You were sure you looked like a lunatic to passersby, wandering about aimlessly and calling out your cat’s name in a frenzied tone. With each passing minute, you could feel your hope slipping further and further away.

You rounded a corner, slumped over and defeated from your effortless search, when you spotted a Public Security officer. He was a feline Thiren, with a long, fluffy tail and ears poking out of his mop of white hair.

As you moved closer, you realized the officer was holding something in his arms. Something fluffy with a long tail and pointed ears not unlike his own. Your heart started beating wildly in your chest as you felt your optimism return, and you couldn’t help yourself as you started almost running towards the PubSec officer. You recognized those furry features as belonging to your beloved cat.

The officer’s ears twitched as you ran up to him and he turned to face you as you approached, giving a clear view of your cat peacefully snuggled up in his arms like a baby. It seems he quickly put two and two together, and gave you an eager grin.

“Hello! Is this your cat, then?”

You could have thrown yourself at this man’s feet, you were so grateful to him. You tried to steady your breathing, giving him an appreciative look.

“Yes, sir, thank you so much! I- I have no idea why she ran away. I swear she isn’t usually like this!”

The officer just chuckled, his bright smile only widening further.

“Don’t worry about it! I'm just glad this sweet little gal has such a lovely owner. I was worried she might be a stray.”

You felt your face heating up at his words. If it was anyone else, you might have felt uncomfortable with a stranger saying something that could be so easily interpreted as flirting, but he seemed so genuine and wholesome, you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel upset.

You held out your arms to take your cat back, and the officer stepped closer to hand her off. Your cat, however, seemed to have different ideas.

Instead of being happy to see you, your cat cuddled closer up against the Thiren, purring contentedly. You huffed before giving the officer an apologetic smile, reaching to try to grab your cat from him again. As you gently lifted her, your cat squirmed in your grasp, digging her claws into the officer’s uniform and refusing to let go.

That little traitor!

The officer laughed at the predicament, giving your cat a scratch behind the ear. Meanwhile, the heated flush of embarrassment creeped further up the back of your neck.

“I'm so sorry about this. I’m sure you have much more important things you could be doing right now, and I’m wasting your time-”

The officer cut you off with a vigorous shake of his head, his ears flopping cutely with the motion.

“Not at all! As a Public Security officer, it is my duty to help the citizens of New Eridu, no matter what! Making sure you get your cat back is as important as anything else, and I’d be willing to wait here all day if that’s what it took!”

You were taken aback by how sincere this guy was, and you felt your heart flutter at his kind words.

Woah, slow down now.

This guy was clearly passionate about his job, and he probably would have said the same thing to anyone else, you told yourself.

“Thank you, sir. That’s very nice of you to say.”

He gave you a beaming grin in response, and you wondered if his cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

It took several more minutes of coaxing and embarrassed apologies from you before your cat finally relented to being handed over. You tucked her close to you in a firm but gentle hold so she couldn’t run away again (or jump back into the officer’s arms again, traitor).

You sounded like a broken record, but you thanked and apologized to the officer once more.

“Thank you again so much for finding my cat. I’m sorry for any trouble this caused.”

“It’s no problem at all! I’m glad I could help! And I guess I should apologize as well. Cats just really seem to like me for some reason, so I’m sure that’s why your little gal was being a bit fussy.”

You almost laughed out loud at his words. It didn’t seem to occur to him that being a Cat-Thiren might have something to do with his cat magnetism, but you found his obliviousness to be adorably endearing.

“You don’t have to apologize. That certainly doesn’t sound like the worst problem to have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, giving you a bashful grin.

“Yeah, I guess not!”

His tail was swishing back and forth excitedly, and you found yourself almost hypnotized by it. Was it soft, you wondered? It had to be. You slowly looked up to his ears again, noting how they twitched and swiveled at the slightest sound. These mannerisms reminded you of your own cat, and you smiled at that thought.

It wasn’t as though you’d never met a Thiren before, but this guy was seriously cute. You’d even go so far as to call him pretty, with his soft lavender eyes and unfairly long lashes. His feline features made him all the more intriguing.

Your eyes were just beginning to wander to his impressive deltoids peeking out from his sleeveless uniform before your cat let out a loud meow in your arms, breaking the silence that had formed between you and the officer and making you realize you’d been ogling him the entire time.

You immediately snapped your gaze back to his face, trying to pretend like you hadn’t just been looking him up and down like a creep. Luckily, it seemed like he’d been doing some staring of his own and was equally flustered.

You cleared your throat awkwardly and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Well, I should be getting back now. Thanks again for your help. Maybe I’ll see you around some time?”

You hoped that last part didn’t sound too pathetic. Thankfully for you, his eyes seemed to light up at your words.

“Yeah, for sure! Hope to see you again soon!”

He waved you off as you made your way home.

Walking the familiar path back to your apartment gave you some time to reflect on the interaction you’d just had. More specifically, your thoughts kept drifting back to the PubSec officer.

He’d been so sweet and friendly. His upbeat energy was contagious, and even now you couldn’t fight the grin spreading across your face as you remembered his cheerful laughter and blinding smiles. And he was easy on the eyes, charming and boyishly handsome.

Your stomach did a funny little flip when you thought about the last thing he said to you, how he sounded so excited at the prospect of running into you again. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t share his enthusiasm. His genuine mannerisms were refreshing, if not a little bit naïve, and it made you want to get to know him better.

You suddenly paused, a slight frown overtaking your features. You were reading too far into this, weren’t you? Of course you were. This guy was a PubSec officer, he was basically paid to be nice to civilians like you. And with how much he seemed to love his job, you bet he’d probably have the same happy grin on his face whether he was finding lost cats or arresting dangerous criminals.

And worst of all, you didn’t even know his name! You’d been so frazzled from the experience of almost losing your cat that introductions had been the furthest thing from your mind.

Another meow pulled you from your thoughts, reminding you that you’d been standing at the front door of your apartment for a while now without actually going inside. It was a careful balancing act to fish your keys out of your pocket while still holding your cat, but you managed to get the door open and place your cat inside safe and sound.

After double-checking your door was fully closed and locked, you sank down to the floor, letting out an exasperated sigh. Your cat happily plopped herself down in your lap, purring away as if she hadn’t just nearly given you a heart attack and led you on a wild goose chase throughout town mere minutes ago.

As you lovingly scratched under her chin, you resolved that you had a harmless little crush on the very nice, very handsome PubSec officer who saved your cat, and it wasn’t a big deal because you’d probably never talk to him again anyway. You couldn’t even imagine how busy his life as an officer was, so what were the odds of your paths crossing again?

****

As it turns out, the odds were surprisingly high.

About a week had passed since the “cat incident,” and thoughts of the cute PubSec officer had only briefly crossed your mind.

You were standing in the pet aisle of the grocery store, deliberating between different brands of cat food. Much to your delight (see: annoyance), your cat had suddenly decided she no longer wanted to eat the food you had been buying her for years, and now you were on a mission to find something she wouldn’t turn her little nose up at.

She stopped eating the chicken flavor, so do I go with tuna? Or would she like salmon better?

You were so absorbed in deliberating cat food flavors that you didn’t notice a familiar figure peering over your shoulder.

“If I were you, I’d pick the salmon one.”

Your head whirled around in surprise as you were greeted with a cheery voice and unmistakable grin.

“Oh, it’s you!”

Your feline savior smiled even wider knowing that you recognized him (not that he was easy to forget). He was clearly off-duty, as he was wearing plain clothes rather than his PubSec uniform. Without his bulky gear and long gloves, you were able to get a much better view of his muscles through his short-sleeved shirt.

Jeez, get a hold of yourself.

You mentally scolded yourself. You alternated your gaze between the cat food in your hands and his pretty purple eyes until you finally processed what he said.

“Thanks for the recommendation! Do you have a cat too, then?”

He tilted his head to the side and brought a hand up under his chin, as if deliberating how to answer your question. It was such a simple yet adorable action, and it reignited the spark of attraction you’d felt when you first met him.

“Hmmm, kinda? They’re not technically my cats. Like I said before, cats just really seem to like me for some reason, and a lot of strays like to come up to me while I’m walking around or out on patrol. So I like to have cat food with me, just in case! Most cats really seem to like that salmon one you’re holding.”

So it wasn’t enough that he was attractive, strong, kind-hearted, and honest, but he feeds stray cats, too? What’s next, he’s going to tell you he helps old ladies cross the street in his free time? Actually, nevermind; he absolutely does.

As your crush on this man started blooming all over again, you finally realized you didn’t even know his name.

Quickly tossing the salmon cat food in your basket and placing the other flavors back on the shelf, you stuck your hand out in greeting.

“I’m so sorry, I never actually introduced myself. What’s your name?”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! My name’s Seth!”

He grabbed your hand and gave it an enthusiastic shake, smiling when you gave him your name in return. He repeated it back to you, as if trying out the way it sounded on his tongue, still shaking your hand all the while. His grip was firm yet gentle, and you couldn’t help but admire how nicely your hand fit into his.

He finally dropped the handshake, and you briefly lamented the loss of contact. He spoke up again, clearly not in any rush to end the interaction.

“So how’s your cat doing?”

You sighed before relaying the story of your cat suddenly becoming a picky eater, which made him laugh. From there, the conversation flowed easily between the two of you, as if you had known each other for ages.

You learned he was part of the Public Security Criminal Investigation Special Response Team, a difficult path for a PubSec officer but one he was dedicated to nonetheless. He loved cats (obviously), and he wasn’t a fan of horror movies. You chimed in with tidbits of your own from time to time, but you were mostly content to just listen to Seth. Every now and then, you spared a glance downwards at his tail, which was swishing back and forth excitedly. It reminded you of how your cat looked when she was staring at a bird or squirrel out your window, engaged and laser-focused, and it made you smile internally.

You had no idea how much time had passed. The two of you were in your own little world, and it wasn’t until you heard someone clearing their throat loudly that you realized you were still standing in the grocery store, effectively blocking access to the cat food shelf.

You and Seth both apologized profusely and backed up so an older woman could reach past you two. Thankfully, she didn’t seem upset, and she even shot you a knowing wink as she shuffled away.

As much as you would have liked to keep talking to Seth, you unfortunately had other errands you needed to run today and you were sure Seth did as well.

“I’m sorry, I need to head out now, but it was really nice to see you again!”

You told him with a smile. You swore you saw his ears droop slightly, but he perked back up almost immediately.

“Yeah, I’m really glad I got to run into you! Hopefully I’ll see you again soon!”

You gave him a short wave goodbye before continuing on with the rest of your shopping.

Just like when you first met him, you kept replaying your interaction with Seth in your mind over and over. He was so easy to talk to, and you felt so comfortable around him despite this only being the second time you’d ever met.

Wait, did this mean you guys were friends now? Or were you more like acquaintances? Seth said he wanted to see you again and you certainly shared his sentiment, and the two of you had talked for so long about yourselves, so that probably made you friends at this point. Should you have gotten his phone number?

God, how did you keep fumbling this so badly? It was already a miracle you managed to bump into Seth at the grocery store, you doubted you would be lucky enough to cross paths with him again.

You felt bad for the old lady who was rooting for you. It seems like your infatuation with Seth was destined to be just that: infatuation, and nothing more. Besides, even if you somehow were able to see Seth again, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who was concerned with dating and romance. He had goals and dreams to pursue, and you were sure he only thought of you as a friend anyway.

No use worrying about it now, I guess.

You continued on with your errands, resolving that if you did end up meeting Seth again, you would take that as a sign and ask him for his number. Not that it would actually happen, though.

****

Okay, now you were convinced you had some kind of guardian angel or deity watching over you, because what were the chances of this?

It had been about two weeks since you’d talked to Seth at the grocery store, and you had all but given up on the prospect of bumping into him again. You’d found yourself with a bit more free time than usual and to stave off the boredom, you decided to make a trip to the video store on Sixth Street.

You’d only been there a few times, but they had a massive selection of movies and the siblings who ran the store were very nice, even if they did keep trying to convince you to buy a premium membership.

You expected to be greeted by one of the managers or their Bangboo when you entered Random Play, but instead you saw Seth standing behind the front counter. It was your turn to tilt your head in confusion as Seth gave you his usual enthusiastic greeting.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

That got a laugh out of you, shaking your head as you walked up to the counter.

“I feel like I should be asking you that. Do you work here?”

You doubted that Seth would have time for a second job or really any need for one, yet here he was. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and thinking for a moment before responding.

“Kinda? But not really. I’m friends with the managers here and they’ve been really nice to me, so I offered to help promote movies for them every now and then!”

Was there anyone in New Eridu this guy wasn’t friends with? It was sweet that he spent his free time helping Wise and Belle around the shop, especially when he probably didn’t get much free time in the first place.

You leaned your elbows on the counter, giving Seth a cheeky grin.

“Well then Mr. Promoter, do you have any good recommendations for me?”

Seth lit up like a Christmas tree, beaming at you excitedly. He moved from his spot behind the counter and wrapped a hand around your wrist, leading you over to one of the many displays along the wall.

He searched for a moment before he let out a little “ah ha!,” pulling a movie from the shelf and placing it in your hands.

“Have you ever heard of a movie called ‘Dimensional Musketeer’? It’s about this mysterious guy who goes into Hollows to fight Etherals, and he’s got this cool weapon that lets him take down even the strongest enemies! It’s one of my favorite movies of all time!”

He was talking so excitedly fast, it was almost hard to understand him. Still, if this was one of Seth’s favorites, then it was good enough for you. You smiled at him, pulling the movie case close to your chest.

“That sounds awesome! I’ll definitely give it a watch then.”

You thought you’d seen Seth happy before, but the joy on his face right now was incomparable.

“Great! Actually, why don’t we watch it together? This movie never gets old no matter how many times I see it, and I really want to know what you’ll think of it!”

It took you a moment before the implications of his words finally set in.

Was he… asking you on a date?

It seemed like a plausible explanation, but then again with how friendly and frankly oblivious Seth was, it was equally possible he just wanted to watch his favorite movie with a friend and nothing more.

Regardless, you weren’t going to pass up on this opportunity now, not when you had messed up so badly before. You tried not to let your tone betray how excited you were as you nodded in response.

“That sounds great! Do you want to come over to my place tonight? I’m sure my cat will be happy to see you again.”

Seth frowned slightly, looking bashful.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to feel like I’m inviting myself over.”

You laughed, tucking the movie case under your arm so you could grab both of Seth’s hands in yours.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure. And you’re not inviting yourself over, I’m inviting you over, silly.”

Seth glanced down at where your hands were joined together, and you thought you saw a pinkish hue spreading across his cheeks.

“Y-yeah, I guess you’re right. Tonight at your place is it then! Do you use Knock Knock? I can add you right now!”

You let go of Seth’s hands so you could reach into your pocket and pull out your phone, handing it over to him so he could input his contact information.

When he handed you your phone back, you saw he put a little “(≧∀≦)” after his contact name, and you resisted the urge to squeal out loud from the cuteness of it all.

You followed Seth back to the front counter with the intention of paying for the movie. As you pulled out your wallet, though, he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, this one’s on me!

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

“Of course! I, uh- I actually have the premium membership here, so I may as well put it to good use.”

Oh, poor Seth. Of course a sweet guy like him wouldn’t be able to say no to the managers’ persuasions.

“Thanks, I appreciate it! I have to get going now, but I’ll see you later tonight!”

Though certainly not unwelcome, you weren’t prepared to host guests and your apartment definitely needed some cleaning up before Seth came over.

“You’re welcome! And yeah, see you later!”

As soon as you made it out of the door of Random Play, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

Things had gone perfectly this time. You’d actually managed to secure a kind-of-maybe-not-but-also-maybe-yes date with Seth, and you were determined to make sure everything went smoothly.

****

You arrived home a little while later, having stopped on your way back to pick up some snacks and drinks for the evening. You started on the task of tidying up your space, letting your thoughts wander as you flited from chore to chore.

Should you dress up tonight? Or just keep it casual? Should you try to make a move? Was this even a date to begin with, or were you just reading too far into things?

On one hand, there certainly were signs that Seth liked you as more than just a friend. All those times you’d bumped into him, he seemed so genuinely happy to see you. Whenever you had to leave, you noted subtle signs of disappointment, whether it be a small dip in his near-permanent smile or a slight droop in his ears. And he was the one who suggested you watch a movie together in the first place. That had to mean something, right? You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress your excited grin at the thought of Seth reciprocating your feelings. You could feel your face heating up and your heart beating incessantly against your chest.

But at the same time, you couldn’t fight the nagging thoughts lingering at the back of your mind, planting seeds of doubt and uncertainty. For as much as Seth wore his heart on his sleeve, you found him surprisingly hard to read. He was such a good-hearted and friendly guy that the cheerful smiles and warm greetings, the constant acts of kindness and generosity, the hopeful promises of meeting again, were probably something he shared with everyone. Were you selfish to think you were special somehow? If Seth didn’t like you back, would it ruin the friendship you’d managed to build thus far?

That thought almost knocked the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t let that happen. You’d much rather spend the rest of your days silently and hopelessly pining after Seth than lose him entirely.

Suddenly, this movie night didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore. But with how ecstatic Seth had been when you agreed to watch his favorite movie with him, you knew it would crush him if you backed out now.

You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you heard a ping from your phone, jolting you out of your anxious ruminations. As you’d expected, it was a message from Seth, asking if it was still okay for him to come over soon.

No turning back now.

You sent back an affirmative reply before tossing your phone down to finish preparing for Seth’s arrival. You decided on an outfit that wasn’t too flashy but certainly a bit nicer than what you’d wear around the house. After setting out the food and drinks, you opted to sit on the couch, nervously fiddling with your fingers and trying your best to keep your nervous thoughts at bay.

You nearly fell off the couch in surprise when you finally heard a knock at your door. You stood at the doorway for a moment, taking one last moment to smooth out your clothes and tidy up your appearance before taking a deep breath. Seth was already beaming at you when you opened the door, and it helped put you at ease.

That’s right. It’s just Seth. No need to overthink things.

All of your reassured thoughts flew out the window when Seth pulled you in for a tight hug, squeezing you against him in a near-crushing grip. The feeling of being pressed into his firm chest and his muscular arms wrapped around your frame had your face heating up quickly.

“It’s nice to see you again!”

His words made you burn even hotter, and you prayed Seth couldn’t feel your embarrassed warmth through his shirt. You hesitantly reciprocated his hug, pushing your face closer into his chest in an attempt to hide your fluster.

“You too! But you know, I just saw you a few hours ago.”

Seth pulled back from the hug, giving you an unfairly adorable pout.

“I know, but it’s still nice to see you again.”

Your heart couldn’t handle such unabashed sincerity, and you could only smile and laugh awkwardly as you stepped aside to let him into your apartment, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush still present on your cheeks.

Seth had hardly taken 2 steps inside before your cat came trotting up to him, meowing and brushing up against his legs affectionately. He chuckled, reaching down to pick her up. Your cat was purring louder than you’d ever heard, starting to fall asleep in his arms almost instantaneously. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad, your heart melting at the adorable sight before you. Seth finally turned his attention back to you.

“Thanks again for having me over!”

You shook your head, closing the door and leading him to the living room.

“Of course! I’m glad you could make it. I’m excited for the movie!”

“Me too!”

You crouched down in front of the TV, setting up the movie while he got comfortable with your cat now snoozing peacefully in his lap. Once everything was ready, you moved to take a seat on the couch next to Seth before you paused for a moment. How close should you sit to him? If you sit too close, it could be awkward. But if you sat on the far end of the couch from him, wouldn’t that be more awkward? He seemed to take note of your hesitancy, giving you a confused look before patting the empty space next to him.

“C’mon, the movie’s starting!”

Seth having made up your mind for you, you plopped down in the spot he designated for you, your thighs just brushing up against his. You stole a glance at Seth out of the corner of your eye to gauge his reaction, but he was already engrossed in the movie. You directed your gaze back to the screen, resolving that you would just focus on enjoying the movie in favor of dwelling on Seth’s intentions.

But as the evening went on, you found it harder and harder to stick to your resolve. While Seth remained fixated on the movie, you remained fixated on him. You realized this was the first time you’d really been able to admire Seth up close. Of course, you’d stolen plenty of glances at him during the times you’d spoken with him, but you had tried to keep most of your attention on his words, not wanting to be caught staring.

Now though, with Seth being so enthralled by the movie, you figured it was okay to let your gaze linger on him for a bit longer. You were positive he wouldn’t even notice.

The light from the TV screen illuminated his features, casting a soft radiance over him. In the relative darkness of the room, his hair seemed to glow, reflecting the light like a fresh blanket of snow. His bright purple eyes seemed somehow brighter, full of excitement and contentment. His ears were standing straight up, not wanting to miss a single word of the movie.

But most of all, your eyes kept drifting back to Seth’s tail.

It was swaying back and forth the way you’d seen it before when he was focused or excited, and it took all your willpower not to reach out and run your fingers through the fluffy tufts of fur. Whenever you’d encountered Seth previously, your eyes had always drifted down to his tail, your thoughts wandering to how it would feel to pet it. Realistically, it probably wouldn’t feel any different than when you pet your cat, but a part of you thought it might even be softer.

You knew it was such a weird fixation, and Thirens probably had to deal with rude people trying to touch them all the time, but you’d never be able to stop thinking about his tail if you didn’t get to pet it at least once.

You took a deep breath before steeling your resolve, shifting your position on the couch so you were now facing him with your legs crossed.

“Hey, Seth? Would it be okay if… I touched your tail? It just looks so soft and I keep wondering what it would feel like.”

The question tumbled forth from your lips faster than you’d meant it to. Seth’s jaw dropped at your words, a deep blush quickly spreading across the expanse of his face.

“You want to touch… my tail?”

He sounded so dumbfounded by your request, and you were afraid you’d overstepped a boundary.

“Only if that’s okay with you! I’m sorry if that was a weird ask. You can just forget I said anything-”

You started to backtrack, but Seth cut you off.

“No! You’re totally fine! You can touch my tail if you want to, no problem at all!”

He was trying to sound nonchalant, but his nervous tone betrayed his words. A blush was starting to spread across his cheeks, and you swore his breathing picked up. You tried to give him another out, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“Seth, if you’re not okay with it, that’s totally fine. I swear I won’t be offended.”

He took a deep breath before shaking his head. He grinned at you like he’d done a million times before, but this one felt different somehow, more vulnerable and earnest.

“If it’s you, it’s okay. I promise.”

Now it was your turn to blush. You were caught off-guard by how earnest his response was, and it was all you could do to nod in response.

Seth shifted on the couch until his tail was in your lap, the movement causing your cat to hop off from her perch on his legs and meander away with a meow of discontent. Despite his best efforts to keep it under control, his tail still swished nervously, but the softness brushing against your legs was a pleasant sensation. You reached a cautious hand up, gently running your fingers through the white strands of fur.

You were right: his fur was somehow softer than your own cat. You found yourself almost memorized by the impossibly fluffy texture, and you had to stop yourself from burying your face in his tail as you imagined how nice it would feel against your cheeks.

You turned your attention back to Seth, your hands still stroking his fur absentmindedly. He was more flustered than you’d ever seen him, fiddling with his fingers in his lap while avoiding your gaze. You could feel your own face heating up as you noticed a tension building between you two.

“Thank you for letting me touch your tail, Seth. It’s uh- really soft.”

You’d meant to try to lighten the atmosphere a bit, but you internally cringed at how awkward you sounded. Seth’s ears perked up at your words, his blush now spreading all the way down his neck. He only nodded in response, swallowing thickly before finally looking at you again. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally speaking in an uncharacteristically timid voice.

“Can I, uh- I mean would it be okay if I.. kissed you?”

“Wait, what?”

You honestly couldn’t believe what you’d just heard. Seth wanted to kiss you? Right now?

While your brain was short-circuiting, Seth began to panic. His face was an alarming shade of red, and his tail was swishing about wildly.

“Wait, do you not like me uh- you know, like that? I’m so sorry! I just thought with you wanting to touch my tail, you… you know. But if not, that’s totally okay, too! I’m really sorry!”

You wanted to slap yourself for your ignorance. Of course, Thiren’s tails were special to them, and asking Seth to touch his tail was a huge deal! This certainly wasn’t the outcome you’d been expecting when you’d first asked, but you couldn’t believe that Seth reciprocated your feelings. Your words came out in a rushed frenzy as you tried to salvage the painfully awkward situation.

“No! I mean, yes, I do like you! A lot, actually. I just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

Seth tilted his head to the side, staring at you like you’d grown an extra limb.

“Of course I like you! I’ve liked you since I first met you! How could I not? You’re attractive and funny and nice and you like cats and-”

You cut off Seth’s rambling by sealing your lips over his, pouring all of your feelings for him into the kiss. If Seth had continued listing everything he liked about you, you’re sure your heart would have exploded.

Seth was initially caught off guard, but he quickly recovered and kissed you back with equal fervor, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek.

Kissing Seth was everything you hoped it would be and more. His lips fit against yours like a puzzle piece. He seemed a little hesitant and unsure of what to do, but you were happy to take the lead, moving your lips softly and gently against his so as not to overwhelm him.

You only pulled away when your lungs were burning for air. Seth wasn’t in much better shape, his breath fanning across your face as he panted heavily.

For a while, neither of you spoke, choosing instead to bask in the passionate moment you just shared. Finally, Seth broke the silence.

“So, uh- was that okay?”

He asked with a sheepish grin, his face still painted with a pink flush. God, he was so disgustingly adorable. You swore you were getting the same feeling of cuteness aggression you got whenever your cat did something precious.

You gave in to your impulses, reaching up to squish Seth’s cheeks in both your hands. You yanked him close until your nose was brushing against his. Seth let out a yelp of surprise, his ears sticking straight up.

“You’re so fucking cute.”

You mumbled before pressing your mouth to his once more. One hand reached up to run through his soft hair, your fingers barely brushing against the base of his ears.

He shivered at your touch, his tail wrapping around your waist to drag you further into him until you were almost sitting on his lap.

The kiss was indulgent and lazy yet no less passionate than before. You had all the time in the world to kiss Seth now, and you intended on savoring it.

After who knows how long, Seth pulled away first this time, planting a final kiss on your nose and leaning his forehead against yours.

“You’re way cuter.”

You giggled at his sweet words, and Seth couldn’t help but laugh with you. As you leaned in for another kiss, you made a mental note to give your cat as many treats as she wanted, silently thanking her for running away from home and leading you to the man you never knew you belonged with.

#zzz #zzzero #seth lowell #seth lowell x reader #seth lowell zzz #fanfic #reader insert #x reader #zzz x reader #zzz x you #seth lowell x you #i was like dang there's not a lot of zzz x reader fics :(#but then i remembered i can write them myself :)

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beecauseevan · 2 days

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Thank you @oldfashionedmorphine for the cute prompt <3 <3 <3

~~~

Eddie stares at the thing he just pulled out of the cardboard box in front of him, concisely labeled "Kitchen". That makes him think it must be food-related (then again, Buck kept a ring cutter in his cutlery drawer, so who knows), but try as he might, he can't work it out. It's a bright green plastic knife, but the handle is weird—it's a grid instead of a solid surface, too wide and too flat to be comfortable to hold.

"What is this?"

He holds it up. Buck, who's sitting across from him, glances up, shrugs, and looks back down at Christopher's textbook.

"It's an avocado cutter."

"Why do you need an avocado cutter?" Eddie asks.

Buck looks up again. "Why do you think, Eddie? Not to cut apples, that's for sure."

Eddie reaches into the box again and takes out a (much more recognizable) plastic gadget—a red plastic frame and eight blades, arranged in the middle like spokes on a wheel. "And what's this?"

"That's an apple cutter."

Wordlessly, Eddie drops that back in the box and pulls out something long and yellow—

"Banana cutter."

—followed by something that looks exactly the same, except orange.

"Hot dog cutter," Buck says, with a smile.

"Uh huh." Eddie pulls out something purple.

"That's an onion," Buck cuts himself off, "dicer."

"An onion cutter," Eddie repeats.

"No, an onion dicer," Buck insists. "It said so on the package."

Eddie looks at the thing in his hands. It looks exactly like the apple cutter, but the blades are arranged in a grid, forming little squares instead of wedges. "What's the difference?"

Chris, sat between them and brooding over his English homework, stops chewing on his pencil just long enough to say, "It's obvious, dad. Cutters cut, dicers dice."

"It's obvious, Eddie," Buck echoes, smirking.

Eddie drops the onion cutter on the no pile, ignoring Buck's pout.

"I don't think you should be throwing out all of my shi—" Buck cuts himself off with a glance in Chris' direction. "All of my stuff. That's not the point of moving in together. Your stuff is supposed to mingle, Eddie."

"You can say shit, you know," Chris tells them boredly. "I'm not a baby."

"Our stuff is mingling," Eddie replies, pointing his finger at Chris, a silent admonishment Chris completely ignores. "But not this stuff. I already have a banana cutter. And an onion dicer. And all the other stuff in between."

Buck looks at him skeptically. "You do?"

Eddie nods and gets up. He walks to his cutlery drawer and pulls out a single kitchen knife. "See? It cuts, it dices, and it's universal."

"It's not shaped like a banana though."

Chris chuckles and quickly dips his head when Eddie looks at him, as if he's been focused on his homework the whole time. Eddie shakes his head.

"That sounds like a good thing, if you ask me."

"I guess I won't ask you, then," Buck replies.

Eddie sits back down. He would give in (he would fill every single drawer in this house with useless gadgets if it made Buck happy) but Buck's frown is clearly not genuine—the spark in his eyes is far too obvious.

"So what you're saying is," Buck continues, "as long as it's not a cutter, it's fine."

Eddie hesitates. "Why does that feel like a dangerous thing to say yes to?"

"Live on the edge, Eddie," Buck tells him sagely, and Eddie has never been one to back down from a challenge.

"Okay."

Buck pulls the box closer to him and starts rummaging through it. He produces some things Eddie doesn't mind saying yes to—spacer rings for his rolling pin, a collapsible silicone bowl for microwave popcorn, a pizza cutter shaped like a bicycle and cupcake tins shaped like firetrucks, which are just ridiculous enough that Eddie wants to see them in action.

"See," he says, "we're mingling."

"We are," Buck confirms, and there's something in his smirk that might be bad news. Eddie has seen that smirk before. It usually precedes a rope rescue or something equally dangerous. "So if you don't have something yet, I get to keep it, yeah?"

Eddie frowns. "That was the deal."

"Okay." Buck reaches into the box between them one last time and pulls out the weirdest thing Eddie has seen all day. It's chocolate-colored and square, with a round cylinder at the back. Two arms protrude from it, made from flexible white plastic. He shakes it lightly and those arms rattle, slapping against the flat base.

Eddie stares at it. "What on earth does that do?"

"It's a s'more maker," Buck says, tugging at one of the arms. "You put your crackers here, and your chocolate and your marshmallow, and then you put it in the microwave. And this little thing holds everything in place."

"We used it every time I stayed over at Buck's," Chris says fondly. "The s'mores taste really, really bad."

"Microwaved s'mores taste bad?" Eddie reaches out to tug at the other arm, then lets it fall back down. "Shocking."

Buck is smirking, and the thing is—Eddie knows fully well that this is a dare. He knows that Buck expects to be told to get rid of this thing, and that he would do it, gladly. And maybe that last part is why Eddie just shrugs instead.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Buck repeats, incredulously.

"Okay," Eddie confirms. "Bet we can clear some space for it."

Buck stares at him, stunned. "For real?"

Eddie reaches for Buck's hand, still holding the chocolate-colored monstrosity, and smooths his thumb across Buck's knuckles.

"It's your house too," he says simply.

It's Buck's house too. Buck isn't renting a room from Eddie, isn't staying here as a guest. Buck is a part of this household now, of this family. If he wants to make s'mores in their microwave, he doesn't need Eddie's permission.

Buck's eyes speak volumes. Later, when they're alone, Buck will kiss Eddie for this, hard enough that Eddie forgets about everything else. For now, he just flips his hand so he can lace their fingers together, Buck's a little longer than Eddie's but calloused in all the same places.

Chris catches one glimpse of them and rolls his eyes, burying his face in his homework, but he's smiling too.

"Okay," Buck says quietly. "Okay. But I am getting rid of it. Chris is right. The s'mores are really bad."

"Could take it to work," Eddie says after a moment, when his brain is no longer too flooded with love to work properly. "Show it to Bobby."

"He'll disown me."

"Yeah, maybe. But his face would be worth it."

Buck's smile grows into a smirk, bright and devastating. He mouths the next words, for Chris' sake, but Eddie has heard them so many times by now that his brain fills in the gaps, that he hears Buck's voice as he reads Buck's lips: I love you.

"I know you do," Eddie replies. It takes one pout, and then he breaks. He mouths back, trusting Buck to be able to read him just as easily: I love you more.

"You two are embarrassing," Chris tells them. "And we're keeping the s'mores maker. I like it."

Just like that, it's settled.

#thank you for the prompt!!#this was cute (and buck would definitely be a kitchen gadget horder)#buddie #buddie 911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #buddie fic #buddie fics #mine #q

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maxwell-grant · 5 hours

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The Penguin: Episode 1 Breakdown

Thank you Lauren LeFranc, Mike Marino, Colin Farrell and Matt Reeves, we owe you the world for this, good God. It's finally here everyone and I've decided I'm gonna give each episode it's own post/breakdown of thoughts, because hahaha holy shit you guys this is beyond what I even dreamed of, and we're gonna be covering this for a while I think. I've worked out enough madness about this out of my system by talking with friends and I can't seem to be able to work on anything else till I get this done, so let's do it.

Bottom line: This isn't even just a must-watch if you like the Penguin or if you like The Batman, this is something I'd recommend to just about anyone in a heartbeat, something I can point to when people ask "why do you like The Penguin so much" and, instead of the elaborate nerd ramble that usually turns them off, I can just tell them to watch this. A friend of mine (who already loves Batman and digs the Penguin quite a bit) even told me as much, that he's starting to get why I love the character so much, and truly, is there a better feeling than this? Well, there is, and it's watching the show. Let's dig into this first episode:

Right upfront I'm gonna say that this doesn't really seem to be the Sopranos rip-off that people have been calling it before release, although there are definitely Sopranos comparisons to make here. I've spent the past months finally watching The Sopranos in order to get the comparison and definitely want to talk about those comparisons after I finish it (and this show ends). This thing aims to stand on it's own legs as a crime show and it's smashing out of the gate with an extremely promising first episode.

So this just casually opens with the reveal that all along, there was a second rich Gotham the whole time that was completely unaffected by everything we saw in the movie, already throwing a great twist on the events of that movie, and further reinforcing how fucking full of shit The Riddler was. All we saw Batman and the others deal with in the movie was just affecting the poorer parts of the city. All Eddie did was drown rats, and make life worse for the people already in the bottom, while never even getting close to targeting the systemic rot that ruined his life. He retains ideological worshippers in subways obsessed with the corruption of the city without doing anything to actually improve it, and because of him, the streets of Gotham are waterlogged shitholes while the rich Falcone suburbs are doing just fine, peachy even.

I said a while back that, in spite of having about 6 scenes/10 minutes of Penguin runtime, The Batman managed to squeeze impeccably controlled Penguin Trademark Scenes, and this show opens with the last one they didn't get to then: Penguin killing someone for making fun of him. In the movie, he tries doing that with Falcone and is beaten to the punch, so here he gets to actually do it to disastrous consequences.

Fucking adore that the inciting incident of the show is based on the fallout of Oswald killing someone for making fun of him. He pours his heart about the dream he lives his life for, his new boss makes fun of him for being an embarassment to their profession and then he does the most typical Penguin thing by killing him for it and laughing afterwards. And then he realizes how badly he fucked up, and then we get a fucking perfect titledrop with his musical theme, the exact moment we finish The Batman and enter The Penguin.

God it is so fucking cool how the make-up/lighting, the scar across his face, makes it look like he's got a genuine beak from certain angles, how they're able to achieve that effect without giving him a more literal beak for a nose. Everytime they talk about the character, Reeves and Farrell always emphasize how integral the make-up was to them figuring out what to do with Oz, how little they knew what to make of his six scenes until Marino created their monster and suddenly everything fell into place. Mike Marino fully deserves co-credit for the creation of Oz.

Pretty amusing that Victor, as designed to be Penguin's Robin, has exactly the same origin as Jason Todd, a poor street kid trying to steal the hubcaps off the Penguinmobile (I'm sure this bodes very well for his odds at survival), as is the way in which Oz goes on about his recruitment. He press-gangs this kid at gunpoint to help him bury a body arguing with himself and eventually the kid why shouldn't he just kill him to be safe, while trying to impress the kid with his car and air freshener and later that bullshit about "What, you think I hire any schmuck off the street?". From the tile drop onwards, he's doing everything on the fly while also spinning long-term plans set in motion as soon as he's on screen, he's taking this kid in out of sympathy and because he enjoys a power dynamic over someone weaker than him and because he very much needs someone to help him get stuff done. I'm extremely interested in exploring Penguin having a mentorship dynamic and I'm beyond curious as to what happens with Victor from this point onwards, but that poor kid is in for a terrible fucking time.

Found it very funny how much he half-asses the murder threat to Victor. Like it's his first time actually doing it and he's trying to be serious, but not too scary because he's already seeing himself in the poor kid with a stutter and wants the kid to think he's also a cool guy like he wants everyone to think he's a cool guy. I also think having Victor as the POV helps to sell moments like these, because it's still terrifying to him. Even as we follow their stories, these power players of Gotham are still big scary monsters to people caught in the dregs and Victor helps to reinforce that.

I enjoy Oz being friends with sex workers and drag queens off the street as much as I enjoy Oz being depicted as the kind of guy who deludes himself into thinking the prostitute he's with actually likes him, Lauren and Farrell launched into a bit about in on the podcast and I'm curious to see what's going on with him and Eve here.

Lots of perfect funny little character moments across the whole thing. Oz insulted by the idea of taking extra pickles off a poor kid's dirty mouth, but with zero hesitation whatsoever for picking jewelry off his boss' corpse. Dude is governed by principles even as he actively has to break them to survive.

"Technically it's plum." "He is the - or was the - new kingpin", "He's got nurse-like qualities." The show is not overtly trying to get you to find Penguin likeable as much as it wants you to find him engaging - making you think he's likeable is Colin Farrell's job and he's masterful at it, definitely a lot more matured within the character compared to the movie.

If there's anything in particular I'm thankful for regarding Gotham (well okay Gotham led directly to Telltale Penguin which was the basis for this one, so really I do have a lot more to be thankful with Gotham), it's the decision to give him a legit waddle via the broken foot, but the way they incorporate it here with the club foot does so much for him, so much as a modern day reinvention of The Penguin. Adds so much to why he's never been a serious candidate for mob leadership, why he kinda had to spend all his time in the Lounge, why he actually needs someone to help him run affairs, why he has such a gaping ego wound and is so murderously angry at people making fun of him / calling him a goddamn penguin, adds so much validation and so much darkness and nuance to Oswald's overwhelming anger and bitterness over how the world treats him (and so much power should he opt to reclaim it, in turn). It's the kind of thing that frankly feels like it should have always been part of the character, like what all the previous versions were itching closer to or trying to get at. Of course this is a guy gets called a penguin and he hates it badly enough to murder people over it, of course.

This gets to really highlight how differently Oz acts depending on who he's with. Traditionally, one of my favorite things about The Penguin, and one of the things that puts him above the other villains, is that, due to his position, he has to interact with a lot more people than the other Bat-villains. He has to manage a lot more relationships and dynamics, he has to play peacekeeper and puppetmaster. he's the only one in the United Underworld who's regularly interacting with and recruiting other villains to do business with. He's the guy who you pin stuff on like the Gangland Guardians, Team Penguin, doing betting pools with the Rogues taking cover in his Lounge while Joker War is happening, having to rig games to keep good standing with Maxie Zeus and Frenchy Blake in Batman Audio Adventures, and so on. So I greatly enjoy this beat here of him talking about how makes himself smaller before the Falcones, and that moment of him adjusting his outfit and practicing expressions in the mirror before meeting with them. How he contorts himself is present in all of his relationships, and retroactively adds to the way he carries himself in The Batman.

It seems that Oz is functionally regarded as the Paulie Walnuts of the Falcones: useful muscle, loyal for the most part and amusing to keep around, but largely an unstable self-serving dumb asskisser kept where he belongs, a liability if not kept on a short leash. I think the show does a good job of highlighting all the reasons why Oz has never been seriously regarded as a viable option for a boss, even putting aside his disability. He is a fundamentally embarassing person for these serious respectable criminals to be around and of course, the joke is ultimately on them..

Of course, there is only two people in the show who actually know what he's capable of, Francis Cobb and Sofia Falcone, said to be the central relationships defining the show moving forward. Both of them also a defining commonality with Oswald, being people who are looked down on and dehumanized, and characters who are underestimated until it's time to bear their fangs.

Extremely invested in where they're going with Sofia Falcone, Cristine Milioti's been killing it, and will in fact not stop killing it. What a perfect villain for Penguin they've set up with her, someone who has his Kryptonite: she does not underestimate him. Although we know in advance that Oz is going to live and be in the next movie, the question here isn't even so much who's going to win the gang war, and rather how much damage these two freaks will do to the city until Batman gets back. In many ways, Sofia represents the shape of things to come just as much as he does.

She is this embodiment of both the pristine unfathomable wealth and privilege and power that he both detests and strives for, as well as this brutal new breed of madness and violence attacking the streets that he has to survive against and make deals with (and is himself very much a part of, however he denies it). She is Falcone's legacy in every way that matters, both a Kingpin of Gotham whose existence creates the oppressive conditions under which a Batman or a Riddler are created, as well as the Arkham Rogue, the larger-than-life sadist with a tragic origin and a signature torture-murder method and an embarassing name for the papers.

Even the fact that she is The Hangman, and Carmine was defined around his penchant for brutally strangling women - regardless of whether or not she did the crimes that got her in Arkham, she's become this larger-than-life themed expression of a violent obsession in a way that sets her up as every bit the Batman villain that The Penguin is. The two champions of the two Gothams, duking it out in this new world The Batman and The Riddler made, The Penguin vs The Hangman.

I am so glad Lauren LeFranc made the call for binning Alberto in the first five minutes so the rest of the show can focus on Sofia and make a real character out of her in a way nobody's ever really done before, every step of the way so far LeFranc has been perfectly on the ball about where to take these characters and their conflict. And speaking of those,

I feel very confident in saying that this is the first time anyone's ever really had something worth doing with Oswald's mother as a character in her own right and not just a source of anguish for Penguin (Gotham was almost onto something with Gertrude, but not nearly enough). When it comes to Penguin origin stories, my favorite's always been the Pre-Crisis one, where he's poor and bullied but happy with his mom and birds until she dies and the government seizes everything he has, which doesn't necessarily involve her much. But here? Francine Cobb is a real character in what little time we get to know her, and what a character she is. We quickly understand the role she's playing in Oz's life, not just as his mom and person he loves and strives to protect, but the person who's sculpting him into the man he's going to become.

She is vulnerable and she does need meds and she's not quite all there, and Penguin's need to care for her is visible in other actions of his. But then they turn it around by showing how strong and demanding she is, how she is fiercely ambitious and pushing him to be something he would otherwise not be, how much she loves him and sees greatness in him. She knows he's a people pleaser, she knows how to push his buttons, and she wants him to be more, so of course he's going to be more, because he lives to please his mom.

Related to this is this absolute bullseye of a summation of The Penguin, that Lauren LeFranc delivered in the podcast: "Perhaps his greatest fear is that love is transactional. And that yet, everything he does, every decision he makes, is as if that's true. As if "love is transactional" is a truth he abides by". Oswald's conception of power is being loved and revered like Rex Calabrese, and the love he wants most in all the world is the one from his mother. So in turn this, and all extensions of it, drive him to greater and darker lengths.

He doesn't have that ambition quite down yet, it's his mom that does. She who's pushing him to take over the city and not just be a guy scraping by for survival. He's smart and ambitious and extremely good at slipping out of trouble, but she's pushing him to be the guy who will be taking the city by the horns because that's what he has to be for their sake. Her legacy to her son is nurturing him having that dog in him that will make him the supervillain who picks fights with Vengeance. She is the force that's turning Oswald into The Goddamn Penguin and I can't wait to see how she's developed.

Of course he reprimands Victor in that scene for lacking ambition, who do you think he gets it from?

Really love what they've done with Sal Maroni in here so far. I like adaptations that take these throwaway Batman backstory gangsters and make something out of them, in this case, with Clancy Brown lending his power and voice and reputation as The Grand Boss of Villainy to play the last Respectable Gangster of Gotham, this intimidating principled old tiger who's inversely proportional to how much of a petty and scummy piece of shit Carmine Falcone was. Extremely a guy I'd want to see playing a hand in the creation of Two-Face. Just as crucial is the fact that he is the one who gets the most effortlessly outplayed by Oz here, because this is The Penguin Show: no room for traditional or respectable gangsters anymore, their purpose is to be crapped all over by our wacko birdman.

There's a lot about this that re-contextualizes his behavior in The Batman and the one I'm gonna point out is: even though he can't be sure his plan didn't completely go to shit, he is still keeping his wits and not being terribly scared about being beaten up and tortured and staring down the scariest Falcone with a gun shoved in his throat. But he craps his pants at the sight of the Batmobile. He gets pain, he gets indignity, but he doesn't get Vengeance, what kind of sick freak would come up with the stuff that guy does. A gun in his mouth and Falcone torture is just Tuesday, but a car that wants to eat his soul is some psycho shit he's just not ready to deal with.

It is the delicious tasty fucking irony that Oswald thinks Vengeance is this weird freak who doesn't play or bend to any rules and is here to fuck up everything, just like the madman who flooded the city, and thinks of himself in turn as a justifiable guy standing for the respectable old-fashioned empathetic way of doing things, instead of the exact same thing that Riddler and Batman are. Only Sofia gets what he really is, the same thing as her, and that's why she is the arch-enemy / the biggest thing he's gotta defeat in life for now.

God, how fucking PERFECT it is that he gets caught and tortured because he, after stabbing out a man's eye and causing him to get run over by a schoolbus, stops to wave at the kids in that schoolbus while covered in blood. Just the Rex Calabrese of it all, the self-image, this guy who's both a mean nasty son of a bitch and also a real bleeding heart softie and in ways that ruin his life and allow him to slip and wriggle his way out of shit he has no right to, as demonstrated by the finale.

Thinking about Sofia chastizing Oz saying he thinks she is a toy to play with, while rattling off the ways in which she owns him and everything he has, all the ridiculous little accessories her daddy let him play him, and he in turn is a ridiculous little accessory for the family she is twisting until it breaks. Perfect fucking villain for him. Can't wait to see how badly these two are gonna burn Gotham.

I knew deep in my heart that all I wanted out of a Penguin show, the thing that I simply needed to have in it, was Penguin pulling a heist set-up in advance, and it fucking delivered. He doesn't even complain at Victor for being late, because if anything, getting captured and tortured while the car crashed was even better for him. No, he complains at Victor for not being sufficiently gruesome with the body. See, unlike other cowardly anti-hero reinventions of Bat-villains, the show never wants you to forget that Oz is a weird freak and a disgusting piece of shit, even if he is a very likeable and even aspirational one. Only by the most random stroke of fate it wasn't Victor that he fed to the wolves at that moment, that he sees himself in the kid isn't exactly ensuring that he's gonna make out of this in one piece.

Mr. Vengeance gets Nirvana, and Mr. Boniface gets Dolly Parton, perfect credits.

In conclusion: Out of everything they could have done following the thunderous success of The Batman and it's ensuing influence over the DCU, out of all the offers Reeves must have gotten to helm their new universe after delivering a megahit reinvention of their breadwinner blockbuster character, Matt Reeves went "Nah, I listened to my crew, and what we really want to do is 8 hours of television about the waddling freak who's in my movie for 10 minutes", and he and his crew deserve the world for that. I dreamed as a kid of getting to make a big Penguin story or show, a wild impossible idea that would never actually happen, and now it's here and it's better than anything I'd ever imagined.

I'm fit to burst with joy and riding a high of no longer having to hunt for scraps and washing away decades of put-downs for the character and enjoying a Penguin renaissance like one I never imagined happening. I am extremely not an unbiased reviewer here, this show rules and I've waited for it since I was a kid and it's here, drink it the fuck in cause it's only the beginning.

#dc comics #dc #the penguin #penguin #oswald cobblepot #oswald cobb #hbo #max #the penguin hbo #matt reeves #lauren lefranc #mike marino #colin farrell

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bee-devilling · 3 days

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Oooh, that's so cool! Been a while since I listened to Ride the Cyclone. What's the fic about? And how much angst are we talking about? I am a sucker for angsty fics sometimes, whether or not I'm in the fandom.

The fic is set in an Everyone Lives AU (well, except Karnak and Virgil I guess. They're still very dead) but it goes into some detail as to how everyone is left after the accident. It ranges from temporary disabilities like broken bones, permanent disabilities like amputated limbs, and also not accident-related permanent disabilities, because when your body is under immense stress sometimes you discover shit you didn't realise you struggled with before.

But most of what I've written has been little bits and pieces after these events, some of which include:

All of the choir members learning ASL to communicate better with Ricky (unbeknownst to him, at least for the first while). Some members were fluent already (Specifically Constance. Noel would also sort of be in this category, but the second anyone tries to fingerspell something longer than 3 letters, he gives up.), some knew bits of it, like "please", "thank you", "yes" and "no", etc. and some were complete beginners. But they realised after the accident that Ricky has a lot to say, even if it wasn't verbally, and they wanted to bridge that gap. The first thing Ocean's signs to Ricky is a genuine, heartfelt apology for the way she's treated him.

Everyone is just A Little Off after the accident. Nothing big, no major health risks or nothing, and also I haven't quite decided what's happening to who. But one of them is just incredibly twitchy, and it's entirely uncontrollable. Another has levels of brain fog that is really starting to affect their studies. Another has heart palpitations, which took several incidents for them to realise they're not dying, this is just a thing that happens to them now. Not entirely the "came back wrong" trope, they're all basically the same people, but their bodies just didn't quite catch up to being reanimated.

Talia passing away. I feel a little horrible writing it, but I wanted to give her character a bit more respect than what most of the fandom gives her (which is just removing her in the quickest way possible to make room for Nischa) and I feel like letting Mischa grieve is a kinder way to remove her from the story. Also I haven't written the actual chapter in which this occurs yet, but I've written the 3 page letter (could be more, it's not 100% done) Talia sends Mischa to apologise for not telling him about her illness sooner.

Ocean dealing with hEDS after the accident (cos we love giving characters similar disabilities to me), because why not have her learn to stop spreading herself too thin by making a physical barrier in her way to stop her from pushing herself.

Mother-son bonding between Noel and his mom. Because yes, this is the woman who told her son to "dial it back" on his queerness but at the end of the day, it's 2009 in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, and I just feel that she wants her son to be safe above all else. Parents go about things the wrong way, but it doesn't make them inherently evil or abusive. Give her some understanding, some empathy.

Some of them just being a little queer. Or a lot queer. Noel fucking around with his gender expression, wearing dresses and makeup (though maybe not as risqué as the Monique Gibeau outfit), Ricky and Penny using each other to test out new pronouns, also I read a fic (I'll tag the writer if I can find it again) where Penny/Jane uses the name PJ and I wanna steal that idea so bad, I love it. Ocean cutting her hair short and wearing the "boys'" St. Cassian uniform (Butch Ocean is not a want, it's a need)

Anyway this is all I can remember right now, I'm sure there's more I could add. Thanks for the ask :D

#asks #rtc #ride the cyclone #noel gruber #misha bachynskyi #mischa bachinski #penny lamb #jane doe #ocean o'connell rosenberg #constance blackwood #ricky potts

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itsmistyeyedbi · 3 days

Text

late night courage

Pairing: F!Detective/Farah Hauville

Word Count: 2,5k

Prompt: First

Tags: @happyhauvillebday

Summary: Dinner at Tina’s leaves much food for thought for Farah. The conversation that ensues takes a turn that neither of them were expecting.

She never knows what to do with…this.

With people like her, genuine and hopeful and bright. People who choose to be those things, to embody them, despite the experiences they have and the things they've seen that give them every right not to be. Zuri admires them and their spirit that seems to be as sure as the rising sun. She can never quite grasp that kind of strength, no matter how much time she has spent imitating it. She can be warm and hopeful…and genuine, when she let's herself be.

But what's a heat lamp to the sun?

It's nothing compared to the real thing.

And yet, some of them are drawn to her anyway. Like a moth to a flame, not realising that the warmth they want to bask in is not as gentle as the sun. It could burn them to a crisp, because there is such a thing as being too close for too long. It could burn them, even though it doesn't want to. Even though it craves their company, their touch.

It would be easier if she could stay away but she never really can. She never really wants to. So she falls into a familiar song and dance of getting as close as she can without letting them in, giving as much warmth as she can without burning them, keeping her distance when they get too eager and fly closer to the flames than they should. That push and pull that never satisfies but keeps them safe.

How much is that safety worth?

Farah makes her question that everyday.

Zuri is questioning it now with Farah at her side, the back of their hands brushing against each other as they stroll towards her car. Her pinky twitches and she glances at her, her heart stopping for a second when their eyes meet. It's taking everything in her not to take her hand in hers, to feel their fingers intertwine.

She looks away, focuses on her surroundings instead - the sound of their footsteps are accompanied by the chirping of crickets, softening the silence of the night. The sky is dark and speckled with stars, a gentle breeze makes the skirt of Farah’s dress tickle her skin, her pinky grazes hers and there's a fluttering in her stomach-

Okay, this isn't working.

Zuri swallows and moves her hand away to hold it in her own instead, massaging her palm with her thumb. She needs to get a grip. They've been alone for what, two minutes? And her impulse control reverts to the one she had in highschool - useless in the face of someone who has an interest in her. She won't be rash about this, not when it comes to her. Not when she doesn't think she can give her what she wants.

The fluttering turns into a churning when she catches the disappointment on Farah's face.

She hates how often she causes that. She never wanted to be the reason she feels that way. But the little disappointments are better than the one that would come if they were something more…right?

Zuri turns around and leans against the hood of her car, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she smiles at Farah. She returns it as though she was never anything less than content, the streetlight closeby bathing her in a golden glow, tracing the curves of her face and bouncing off of the coils of her hair. God, she looks like an angel.

“Did tonight go the way you hoped it would?”

Right, the dinner. With Tina. It..slipped her mind for a second there.

She shrugs one shoulder, peering at the house they just left. “I figured it would go well the moment you agreed to come. You two are pretty similar, I couldn't see you not getting along.”

“That's to be expected when I'm the type of company you keep. Who wouldn't like me?” Farah gestures to herself with a grin.

Zuri shakes her head, laughing softly before they fall into silence. Something about the question lingers in the air between them. Or maybe it's just in her head and Farah is being her usual self. Either way, she doesn't know what to do with it yet.

So she changes the subject.

“Speaking of the company I keep,” she raises a brow. “What were you and Tina talking about when I was gone?”

Farah's eyes widen and then she laughs, the sound making her heart stir in her chest and before she knows it she's doing the same. Softly, just like before, so she can hear her laugh ring out around them and imprint itself in her mind again.

“You're still thinking about that?”

“Yes, you were being all sneaky about it! I wanna know what was up.”

It's a genuine question, despite the timing. Something was definitely going on with them and were a little too enthusiastic while dodging her questions. They're clearly already a duo she'll have to keep her eye on.

“It's nothing crazy, seriously. We were just talking about you.”

Zuri turns her head and narrows her eyes. That's the obvious answer so it doesn't tell her much.

“Me?”

“Yup.”

Farah watches her gleefully, rocking back and forth on her feet. The silence continues for a few short seconds before she scoffs playfully. “Don't act like you didn't know. You mean a lot to both of us, of course we'd talk about you.”

Zuri’s hands press against the hood of the car as she leans forward and aims a light-hearted glare her way. “I know that I was the hot topic of the night. What I don't know is what about me was being discussed. So spill.”

“We were talking about how you're doing,” her grin softens into a weak smile as she rubs the back of her neck. “Or how you're not doing. In a general kind of way.”

“Oh.”

She doesn't know what to make of that. How did that even come up among the conversations about supernaturals and how wrong books and movies have been about them? Was Tina worried about her? Was Farah? Did something she say make them think they needed to be?

“Man, Tina warned me about this but I thought I'd manage to make it home before caving.”

Zuri blinks and looks up at Farah. When did she look away? How did she manage that when she's standing right in front of her, her eyes the colour of honey when it's held up to the sun, framed by long lashes and soft with concern.

“It's funny,” she continues with a frown on her face. “I've been talking about how busy things have been lately and how we barely get to spend time together, but…it's always been busy for you, hasn't it?”

“I don't know, has it?” Zuri can't say it hasn't been busy. The little moments she's managed to steal away for herself feel like they happened months ago, fleeting as the flicker of a light. And even those moments couldn't be deemed relaxing, not when a part of her was holding its breath, waiting for the next threat to her life.

“You can tell me,” she urges gently. “You know that right?”

“I know,” Zuri sighs. She deserves a more honest answer than that. “I guess it has been busy.”

Farah offers her a wry smile and steps closer to her. “That means this probably isn't going to be as easy in the future.”

Wait what?

“What? Us?”

“Oh, uh- well, I mean,” she lets out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting to the ground before meeting her gaze again. “I meant us spending time together but that works too. But now that I think about it, I don't know how easy either of those things have been.”

“You know that isn't because of you, right?” The words rush out of her mouth before she can think or process the surge of shock she felt. “If anything hasn't been easy, it isn't because of you. You being around is probably the easiest part about all this.”

“That's a relief to hear. I was getting worried for a second,” Farah jokingly wipes her forehead but the motion is too stiff to be playful, the relief too obvious in how the tension in her face eases.

“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about on that front.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” she mutters before shaking her head and continuing before Zuri can respond.

“Anyway, what I'm trying to say is - it's okay to not be okay after getting sucked into all this supernatural business. I don't think anyone would be if they went through half the things you've been through. And I hope you know that whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, or just…need me, I'll be there.”

She pauses and leans forward, her shoulders raised close to her ears as she smiles sheepishly. “We all will be, but I am hoping you'd sorta kinda want to come to me first,”

She's far too sweet for her own good. Zuri chuckles, her eyes lingering on the curve of her lips before looking back up at her. Warmth blooms in her chest and spreads across her cheeks while she wraps her arms around herself.

“You'll be the first to know when I need a shoulder, I promise,” she says softly. “And um, thank you.”

Farah nods and rubs her arm with her hand, her face growing pensive as she takes a breath. It doesn't seem like she's finished yet. Zuri watches her, trying to reassure her. She can wait however long she needs to to hear more of what she has to say.

“And about that ‘us’…you don't have to worry about that.”

Zuris stomach drops when she says that. It must show on her face because her eyes widen and she frantically corrects herself, waving her hands in front of her.

“Nono, I'm not saying- what I mean is you can take your time. There's no pressure, I'm not going anywhere,” she reaches up to fiddle with the unicorn pendant hanging from her neck. “But whatever you decide, whenever you decide it, I hope we can still spend time together like this. For however long we can before some bad guy swoops in to steal you away.”

Shit. Zuri doesn't want her to think she doesn't want her. She does, more than she's wanted anyone in a long time. She just… doesn't know how to do this anymore. To make something last. As much as she wants to erase any doubt Farah has in her mind, it wouldn't be wise to rule out the possibility of there being no them, would it? They've been walking the razor's edge for months too, so who knows if she'll even want her afterwards? She could move on from her, find someone who's worth all the waiting she's done.

Zuri looks down at the cobblestone road. The thought of that hurts more than it should.

Shit.

Say something!

“I-” her voices hitches, she clears her throat before trying again. “I…don't know how much time we'll have to spend like this.”

That's what you chose to say. Great work, Zuri.

“Neither do I,” Farah's feet enter her view before a finger and a thumb is on her chin and tilting her head up, amber eyes unwavering as she gazes at her. “But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try. You are so worth trying for.”

A shaky breath leaves Zuri’s lungs. Everything inside her comes to a halt, like every part of her wants to focus on nothing but the sound of Farah's voice. Like her words have stunned her entire being into silence.

That's just it, isn't it? That's what matters, if someone is worth trying for, outcomes be damned. And she believes that she is, despite…well, everything.

“Zuri? You okay?”

Something inside her comes undone, and a wave of emotion washes over her, kickstarting her body into gear and slowly forming a lump in her throat. She might not know how to do this, but for her, she'll try. She'll do whatever she can to make this work, no matter how scared she gets or how heartbreaking the end is. Being with her is worth whatever pain might come. And if she's the reason for any burns, she'll make sure to be the balm too.

It looks like it took Farah saying what should've been obvious to her out loud for her to get it.

Wow.

“Yeah,” she blinks a few times and clears her throat. “I'm okay. I'm okay.”

Farah lets go of her chin, barely moving an inch before Zuri’s hand grabs hers, her grip gentle as her thumb runs over her knuckles.

“Farah, I- you're so,” laughter bubbles up her throat, brief and maybe a little bit hysterical as she covers her face with her free hand. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. You're cute when you're flustered,” Farah says with a wink.

Zuri smiles bashfully and stares down at their hands. Her skin is warm and smooth against hers. She squeezes it gently and swallows before continuing. “You're worth trying for too. You always have been and I… feel a little ridiculous that I'm only really understanding what that means now. I'm sorry it took me this long.”

“Um, no problem,” Farah stares at her for a moment, eyes wide and lips parted. “Is this going where I think it's going?”

“Yeah, it is.”

She beams and rises on the balls of her feet before quickly settling herself down. Zuri's heart flutters in her chest. She seems so excited, ecstatic even for them to finally be in a relationship. She shouldn't keep her waiting any longer.

“I know you've wanted what's been going on between us to be something real. Something more than flirting that doesn't go anywhere. I wish I could've given you that sooner but,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to quell the doubt creeping into her mind.

She holds Farah's gaze and lets it spur her forward. “If you still want that, want me, I'd like to give that to you now-”

Farah flings herself at Zuri. She lets out an oof as their bodies collide and arms wrap around her neck. “Yes! Please do! Like, right now if you want to.”

Zuri giggles and wraps her arms around her waist, breathing in the burst of zest and citrus from her perfume. Their hearts beat in tandem against their chests, hands clutching at each other as they hold each other close; she's so warm… holding her is like holding the sun.

Farah gives her a squeeze before pulling away enough to see her face. “Of course I still want you. I never stopped, and I never will.”

Heat settles in Zuri’s cheeks as she tries and fails to respond, all that comes out is a string of incomprehensible, half-spoken words that are shortly interrupted by laughter.

“God, what are you doing to me?”

“Let me know when you figure that out so I can keep doing it.”

Zuri huffs, shaking her head and smiling softly. “You know, I don't usually ask people out. Not with it meaning what it means right now. This is a first for me.”

Farah snuggles into her, her cheek pressing against her neck. Her voice is muffled, but she can still hear her smile.

“I'm glad you did.”

#happyhauvillebday #twc #the wayhaven chronicles #twc detective #f hauville #farah hauville #this took me much longer than i thought it would holy shit #if you see any spelling mistakes no you didnt😭#anyway heres how zuri and farah's relationship starts #i was gonna include a kiss but i was struggling with writing the build up #the whole idea of this was 'first kiss' but my brain wasnt working with me mxm #i still like how this turned out tho!#twc fanfic #my writing

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pasaatimonarkin · 3 days

Text

No crying in the Burlesque club I part 5

Han Jisung x reader feat. OT8 Stray kids

Mafia!au

Warnings: cursing, guns, mentions of blood, sexual language, SMUT at the end [please skip the end if you are a minor or don't feel comfortable reading smut]

Words: 7,3k [aka long]

part 4

note: I haven't read this through yet so if there are spelling mistakes, I apologize.

Your eyes opened slowly. You hadn’t slept that well in a while and it felt like you never wanted to wake up. But your eyes quickly widened as you saw the scene in front of you. You were snuggled against Han’s bare chest, his arm circled around your waist. You dared to look up and there Han was, already staring down at you with a sleepy smile that made your heart flutter. "Good morning” He murmured, his voice gruff with the remnants of sleep.

"Morning," you replied, almost whispering. He gently stroked your hair with his good hand. "How'd you sleep?"

You sat up, cheeks flushing pink with the realization of what had happened the night before. You had been dreaming of this moment in secret. Hoping he would feel the same as you. "I slept... fine," you said, your voice a little shaky. "How's your shoulder?"

Han nodded, grimacing slightly as he moved his arm. "It'll be okay," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thanks to you."

You smiled but couldn't help but wonder if the kiss had been a mistake, if Han regretted it. If the kiss was just from the heat of the moment. You searched his expression, looking for any sign of discomfort or regret, but found none. Instead, his gaze was intense, as if he was trying to read your soul. The silence between you grew heavier, charged with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

It was like Han saw your uncertainty and took the lead. "I meant the kiss," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You have?" you whispered.

Han smirked, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards in a way that made your heart race. "Yeah," he said, his voice taking on a playful tone. "You didn't know?" He teased.

You felt a warm blush spread across her cheeks. You were never sure if his constant flirting was because of his personality or because he had set his eyes on you from the start. "I... I didn't," you stammered.

Han sat up and leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, now you do," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "And I'd be more than happy to repeat it, if you'd like."

Your pulse quickened, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, closing your eyes as you felt his lips brush against yours. It was a gentle kiss, his hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you closer. Without thinking you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

As you broke apart, Han smirked. "So, is this the part where you say you've always wanted to kiss me too?" His sarcasm was light, the tension in the room dissolving into a playful banter that felt both new and incredibly natural.

You thought about telling about your feelings but decided to take part in his play. "Maybe," you said, taking a small pause "But you're not getting off that easy. You owe me an apology for taking so long."

Han chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh, really?" He raised an eyebrow. "What's the going rate for a kiss these days?"

You smacked his chest lightly, trying to keep a straight face. "I'll think of something," you said, your voice laden with amusement.

Han's laughter was genuine, the kind that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. The sound of his laughter made you smile, you had never heard him laugh like that. Han leaned back on the pillows, his arm supporting his head as he watched you. "I'm all ears," he said, his tone playful.

Before you could come up with a suitable reply, a voice called Han from downstairs. It was Chan. The playfulness drained from the room as quickly as if someone had flipped a switch.

Your eyes grew wide with panic. "What do we do?" you whispered, your grip tightening on the sheets.

Han's expression turned serious, the playfulness vanishing like a ghost at daybreak. "I better go," he murmured, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Let’s talk more later"

You nodded, your heart racing. If Chan found out about what happened he would be angry. He had made it clear that you shouldn’t be a part of his world. And shared feelings could be turned against you.

"Han!" The voice called out again, more insistent this time.

Your eyes darted to the door, and you fell back on the bed "Chan can't know," you whispered urgently.

Han nodded, his gaze never leaving your "I know," he said, his voice low and steady. He knew the rules of this world better than you. And he also respected your brother for wanting to keep those.

Han stepped to your bathroom, and you heard him turn on the shower. When stepped back into the room, he had a towel on his shoulder and hair wet, making it look like he just came out of the shower. He checked if his black jeans were fine as he had slept with them on.

With a final nod, Han strode to the door, leaving your room. "Be right there! I was just in the shower” You heard him yell before closing the door behind him. His voice was casual, like nothing else had happened.

You smiled to yourself, thinking about the last two kisses you shared with Han. You couldn’t believe everything that had happened during the weeks you had been in Strays house. It also dawned on you whether you could actually have a relationship with Han, considering the life he had. Could you still keep your own lifestyle with the Burlesque club? And what happens if Chan finds out?

Your mind was once again storming with questions. With a sigh you raised up from the bed and went to the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would slow down your brain for a moment.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of tension and unspoken glances. You two moved through the house like two magnets, drawn to each other. You were too scared of Chan’s reaction that you decided to keep your distance.

The way you gazed each other made you have butterflies in your stomach every time. The feelings you had had about him felt to be increasing hour by hour. You couldn’t help but wander if Han shared the exact feelings too.

As night fell, you knew Han would be leaving the house soon, it was Tuesday. He, Changbin and Seungmin would be racing tonight and the others would be watching. You received a text from Han' "Meet me in my room”. The screen of your phone glowed like a tiny sun, illuminating your face in the darkened room. You quickly hopped off you bed and tiptoed down the stairs. When you reached Han's door, you took a deep breath and pushed it open. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, going through his phone. His outfit was all black like always: Black jeans with a t-shirt tucked into them and a leather jacket.

"I've got a race tonight," Han said without looking up. "I'm leaving soon."

"Can I come?" you asked, hope lacing your words.

Han's gaze finally met yours, and he smiled shortly before answering "You can't," he said firmly. "It's not safe."

You felt a pang of disappointment, but knew he was right. The underground street racing was fraught with danger, and you had no place there. "But I would like to see you race," you protested, voice a mix of desperation and longing.

Han sighed heavily. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "But you can't. I don't want to risk you getting hurt. I can’t keep my eye on you there”.

“I want to see what it’s like. What you guys do when you disappear on Tuesdays and Fridays” you tried to explain. "Besides you're hurt," you pointed at his shoulder. "I want to make sure you’re going to be alright”. You crossed your arms on your chest, trying to make yourself more believable.

Han stood up and with two steps he was standing right before you. “Lee Know is there to make sure my shoulder can handle it.” He took your hands in his and looked in your eyes. "Chan will be there, too. And if he sees you, he is going to be furious. He might not know about our feelings, but he knows we have been spending most of the days together. It’s going to seem like I brought you in the middle of danger in purpose”.

Your eyes stared back into his. It was true, he had been the one keeping eye on you for these past weeks which meant he sticked to your side like glue. And you also knew that Chan didn’t want you to be part of their world at all. Any day now he could be telling you to go back to your own apartment – surprisingly he hadn’t yet.

“Alright fine” you muttered, “But please explain what makes the races so dangerous?” you asked your voice going high, because you knew what the danger there was. Like usually you just couldn’t give up that easily.

Han smirked slightly “Oh I don’t know. You could say that the other mafia men with their guns and knives but I could be wrong” he sneered, voice full of sarcasm. Han gave your hands a gentle squeeze before letting go. "Jeongin is going to stay here. He'll keep you company," he said, his tone softer now.

You nodded, though you couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at being treated like you always needed babysitting. "Yeah," you said, trying to keep the edge out of your voice. "I know he stays to babysit me."

Han chuckled. "Is that what you think?" He reached out and gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. "Maybe Chan just doesn't want you to be lonely," he said, his tone teasing.

"Yeah, right," you said, rolling your eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips because of his touch. The warmth of his fingers lingered on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Well, good luck then," you said with a sigh.

Han leaned in, his face serious for a brief moment. “Thank you. And don’t do anything stupid. Alright?”

Before you could respond, he closed the space between you and kissed you again, this time with a gentle passion that took your breath away. When he pulled away, his eyes searched yours.

Your heart was racing. Yeah, you were totally going to do something stupid. "Okay," you whispered, a new idea forming in your mind. "I'll be waiting for you."

Han nodded; his expression unreadable. "I'll be back before you know it," he said, turning to grab his keys from the dresser.

You watched him, your mind racing. You wanted to go, you wanted to see what happens there and most importantly, you wanted to be with Han. "I'll be waiting," you repeated, trying to hide your intentions in your voice.

Han's eyebrow quirked at your words, but he didn't question them and moved to the door. "See you when I get back," he said, his hand on the doorknob.

You watched him go, your mind already planning a way to go with him. Once you knew that Han wasn’t inside the house anymore, you left his room to find Jeongin. You checked the living room and there he was, laying on the couch. You sighed before entering, trying to make your voice steady "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

Jeongin looked up from his phone, his eyes half-lidded. "What's up?"

You took a deep breath, heart racing with excitement and fear. "Could you keep a secret for me?" you asked.

Jeongin looked at you quizzically. "What kind of secret?"

"I want to go to the race," you said. "I want to see what it’s like."

Jeongin's gaze sharpened, and he sat up straighter. "You know it's not safe for you," he said, his voice firm.

You nodded and sat next to him. "I know, but I have to be there," you said, voice filled with a fierce determination that even you were surprised "Please, Jeongin”

Jeongin studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. He knew the risks of the streets, the danger that lurked in the shadows of the underground racing world. But he also knew what had happened between you and Han. See you were not the problem of gossip, but Han was. With a sigh, he nodded. "Okay," he said finally. "But only if you promise to stay safe."

Your eyes lit up with gratitude. "I promise," you said fervently. "Thank you, Jeongin."

He gave you a stern look. "If you get hurt, or if anything happens, it's on me," he warned. "And if Chan finds out, I’m dead meat and so is Han."

You nodded solemnly. "I know," you said, eyes shining with understanding. "I know how Chan would react”

Jeongin sighed, his gaze flickering with concern. "Okay," he said finally. "But you're going to have to be smart about it. Stay in the shadows, keep your head down."

You nodded eagerly, mind racing with the excitement of the plan. "I will," you promised. "Thank you, Jeongin."

Without wasting another second, you hurried up to the garage but stopped at the door to see if Han’s car was still in there. It was. Only his and Jeongin’s car remained, and you quickly made your way to Han’s car. Where should you hide? In the backseat? No, he will see me in there.

You heard steps and without thinking you popped the trunk open and climbed inside, closing it right after with a soft thud. Your heart was racing with a mix of excitement and fear. You could have just made up a huge mistake. The space was tight, filled with the scent of gasoline and leather. You curled into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The darkness was complete, and you could feel the car shifting slightly as Han climbed into the driver's seat.

The engine roared to life, and the car lurched forward, sending your heart racing even more. You had never done anything so reckless, so dangerous before. Yet here you were, hiding in the trunk of a car that was about to race through the streets of Los Angeles, driven by the man you had kissed the first time just last night.

The drive was a blur of turns and acceleration, the vibrations of the car resonating through your bones. You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The cold metal of the trunk pressed against your back. You had acted so fast that you couldn’t dress up properly as you were only wearing a white top and leggings- oh and no shoes.

When the car finally came to a stop, you waited with bated breath, listening for any sign of danger. The engine cut off, and the silence was deafening. You reached for the trunk release, hand shaking with anticipation. But it wouldn't budge. Panic began to set in as you realized you might be trapped. What if Han doesn’t look in the trunk? You couldn’t just start banging it or scream, someone else could hear.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, reminding herself that Jeongin knew where you were, you could text him if you were there too long. But the thought didn't do much to ease the anxiety gripping your chest.

The minutes stretched into an eternity, the silence in the trunk broken only by the distant sound of car engines revving and the occasional shout of excitement. You could feel the vibrations of the car, the throb of the bass from the stereos of nearby vehicles, and the occasional jostle as people moved around the car. You heart hammered in your chest, the excitement turning into fear.

You felt Han – or at least you hoped it was him – to sit on the driver’s seat and start the car. As the car started moving again, you realized with a jolt that Han wasn't just driving to the race; he was going to race with you in the trunk. Your breath hitched, and you braced yourself against the cold metal, knuckles turning white. The car picked up speed and the engine growled

The race had begun.

You felt the car come alive beneath you, the engine roaring like a beast unleashed from its cage. The sudden jolt of acceleration pushed your back against the trunk, your breath leaving you in a rush. Your heart hammered in your chest. You had never been this scared since the first might you were brought to Strays’ house when you were on Changbin’s motorcycle.

The car took a sharp turn, and you slammed against the side of the trunk. You bit your lip to keep a surprised scream leave your lips. Your eyes squeezed shut as the world outside tilted and swayed. The smell of gasoline grew stronger, mixing with the scent of rain-soaked streets and the faint hint of fear that clung to the air.

The car jolted as it hit a pothole, and you heard the squeal of tires as Han corrected the course. The engine roared in protest, and you felt the car shift gears. The reality of your situation began to set in. You were in the trunk of a car, hurtling through the streets of Los Angeles, with no way out. If you crashed, you would be trapped and probably dead.

And then, suddenly, it was over. The car came to a stop, the engine's roar fading to a purr. The world outside was quiet once more and you heard Han stepping out of the car. You waited, your breath shallow, listening for any sign of Han's return. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd, the crackling of a radio, and the occasional clang of tools. The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline lingered in the air.

The moments dragged on, and then you heard it: Han's voice, low and steady, speaking to someone outside the car. "The first round went well." you heard the other voice say.

You heart plummeted. There were more rounds? The thought of being trapped in here, unable to move or breathe, while the car roared through the streets again was almost too much to bear. Panic set in, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps.

But then the lid of the trunk creaked open, a wash of cool, damp air filled the space. Han's face appeared; his eyes widened at sight of you in the trunk. "Y/n?" he barked, his eyes wide with shock. "What the hell are you doing in there?"

You voice was small and shaky. "I wanted to see," you said, voice barely audible over the clamor of the race. "I wanted to know what happens in these kinds of races."

Han's expression was a mix of shock and concern. "You could've gotten hurt," he said. His hand paused midair as if unsure of what to do next.

"I know," You whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "But I'm okay"

Han stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with a sigh, he offered his hand and helped you out of the cramped space.

"I don't know whether to be angry or impressed," he said finally, his voice a low growl that you could feel in her chest. His hand remained wrapped around yours, his grip firm but gentle.

You looked up at him. "I'm sorry," you began, but Han cut you off with a shake of his head.

"Don't be," he said, his voice gruff. "But you can't do that again." His eyes looking at yours, looking for any signs of injury or distress. "You could’ve been hurt. Badly"

You nodded, feeling the nausea from the race finally dissipate in the fresh air. "I'm okay," you assured him, voice still trembling. "I won't do it again. Being in the trunk was...terrifying."

Han's expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're one brave little thing, aren't you?" he teased, shaking his head in disbelief. Despite the danger, his voice was gentle.

"Or just a little crazy," you retorted, cheeks flushing at his words.

Han chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Crazy enough to hide in a trunk during a race," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and concern. He squeezed your hand gently. "Come on, let's get you inside before you catch a cold."

You stepped into the garage, the bright lights assaulting your eyes after the darkness of the trunk. The space was filled with the sounds of mechanics working on cars, the smell of oil and gasoline thick in the air. Han led you to a quieter corner, behind a big tower of tires, his hand still wrapped around yours, protective and warm. "You can wait here," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Stay out of sight, okay? Don’t let anyone, especially Chan see you"

You nodded and he took steps backwards to leave the corner but suddenly stopped. He took off his leather jacket and handed it to you. “Put this on, you’re shivering” he whispered. You took the jacket and with a nod, Han walked away. You hadn’t even realized you were shivering, mostly from the adrenaline than cold but appreciated Han’s thought and put his jacket on. It was warm and smelled just like him.

There was a small hole in the corner of the garage. Through it, you could see the tail end of the races, the cars zooming by in a blur of lights and color. Your eyes searched the track, trying to find Han among the other racers. Your heart leaped in your chest when you finally spotted his car. You watched as he took turn after turn with skill, the tires screeching in protest against the wet asphalt.

The races ended with a flurry of activity, the air thick with the scent of victory and defeat. The engines wound down, the shouts of the crowd echoing through the garage. The other drivers began to file back. And then, finally, Han's car pulled into the garage, the headlights blinding you momentarily before they flickered off. You watched as he climbed out, his eyes scanning the area before landing on you.

"So, what did you think?" he asked, his voice gruff as he walked to you. There was a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I had no idea it was like this. I thought it would be messier”

Han chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of the race. “Yeah, it can be”

Before you could say more, the sound of booted footsteps echoed through the garage, and a familiar voice called out, "Han!" You recognized Chan’s voice immediately. You heart skipped a beat, and you stepped back further into the shadows.

"Go sit in the car," Han murmured urgently, his eyes darting towards the open garage door. "Lock the doors. I'll be out soon."

You nodded and didn't have to be told twice. You slipped away from the shadows of the garage and move to the car. You slid into the passenger seat. The scent of Han lingered in the air. With trembling hands, you locked the doors, the click echoing in the quiet of the garage. You watched as Han's silhouette grew smaller as he moved towards the other drivers, his shoulders squared, and his head held high. He was in his element like a king in the land of speed and danger.

You settled into the seat and took a deep breath. You tried to get comfortable, adjusting your position to alleviate the ache in your legs. The garage outside grew quieter as the racers dispersed, their engines fading into the distance. The hum of distant traffic became the only sound, a lullaby to the city that never truly slept. The adrenaline from the race began to wear off, leaving you feeling drained and vulnerable. Your eyes grew heavy, and you felt like you could just fall asleep.

But just as you were about to drift off, the sound of the locks opening jolted you awake. You sat up with a gasp, heart hammering in her chest as the driver's side door creaked open.

"It's just me," Han said gently as he slid to the driver’s seat and closed the door behind him. You sighed in relief.

“So, now you saw what we are doing for two days of the week. Was it as interesting as you thought?” Han asked with a smirk as he started the car.

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know what I expected”

“Gun fights, crashes, blood, hot chicks? Nah, we race for real” Han said half-mockingly and half serious, eyes fixating on the road ahead.

You felt kind of embarrassed for doing all that just to see that it was only a job for them. You looked through the window as Han was driving through the dark streets. Han placed his hand over yours and your head shot back at him. “I have to admit it was nice to know that you were watching me there” He smiled, drawing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand, “and I also have to admit that you look pretty sexy with my jacket on” he winked. You smiled back at him before laying back on the seat and closing your eyes. The warmth of the car made you sleepy and you decided not to fight it. As you were drifting to sleep, you felt Han’s hand on yours the whole time.

"Ready for the grand finale?" Coco's sultry voice echoed through the dimly lit dressing room, a question directed at the mirror as much as it was to you, Cherry and Lucky. Her eyes, sparkled with excitement as she applied a final coat of crimson lipstick.

You sat quietly in the corner and stared at Coco. You had to watch her flirt and give herself to Han even after you made it clear to her that Han was not available. Han turned down all Coco’s requests and said that he was not interested. For some reason Coco just didn’t give up, like she was determined to get Han to herself.

Cherry and Lucky were looking at Coco with the same feeling. You told them about you and Han and god you didn’t hear the end of ‘I told you so’s. They were as surprised as you that Coco was so bold and didn’t care if Han had someone or not.

The music grew louder, a seductive rhythm that seemed to pulse through the very walls of the club. A hush fell over the crowd, meaning the next performance was about to start. Your and Lucky’s shows were done, Coco’s and Cherry’s remaining. Coco turned to you with a wink. "Showtime, darlings."

You felt your heart clench in your chest as Coco sashayed out of the room, the sound of her heels fading as she went. It irritated even more as you knew how she would be acting on stage: trying to seduce Han as always. You hated being jealous and didn’t want to feel that way. But it was all so knew with Han still. You weren’t sure if you two were together together and if Coco could play her way to Han’s liking.

“You should go sit with Han, make his interest set on you. That will make Coco go nuts on the stage” Lucky winked at you.

“I don’t want it to seem like I’m using him to get back on her” you murmured.

“And you’re not. If you really want to be with the guy, show it. And make him show you that he doesn’t give seven shades of shit about Coco” Cherry said sternly but still smiled at you.

You thought about it and with a deep breath, you stood up and smoothed out your short, black dress. “Alright” you nodded, channeling the confidence you had seen in Coco's eyes, and made your way through the hallway. The air was hot and thick with the scent of hairspray and sweat. Emerging into the dim light of the side stage, you searched the sea of faces for Han. His gaze was on the stage where Coco was already swinging her hips to the music.

Ignoring the flutter of nerves in your stomach, you made your way through the packed audience. You reached had and without a word, you slipped into the empty chair beside him, your hand brushing against his. Han startled slightly, looking down at your intertwined fingers before meeting your eyes.

The music grew more intense, the spotlight moving to Coco as she continued her grand finale. You felt the heat of the lights on your skin as you watched Han watch Coco’s performance. His face was blank, not showing any reaction whatsoever but his eyes never left Coco

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the tension was palpable. Coco's movements were a tease, each gesture calculated to provoke a reaction. The anger bubbled up inside of you, a potent cocktail of jealousy and frustration. You had never felt possessive before, but the sight of Han’s attention on Coco stirred something primal. Your eyes narrowed, the corners of your mouth turning down in a scowl as you observed the way Coco's hips swayed and her smile grew brighter with every seductive move. It was clear she was enjoying the effect she had on the audience.

Han was observant and sensed the shift in your demeanor. His eyes darted from the stage to your tightly drawn face, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the way your grip on his hand had tightened. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your ear. "You okay?" he asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

You took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “It’s just..I-“ you trailed off, unable to describe the feeling you had, you were irritated, frustrated, jealous..

"You're pissed," Han said, his voice gentle as he squeezed their hand.

You nodded, “yeah” you huffed. “It just seems like she is finding her way to carve into you” you admitted.

Han chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You're adorable when you're jealous," he teased, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. His eyes held a mischievous glint, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the annoyance from your voice. "I'm not jealous," you protested weakly, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Han's grin only widened. "Sure, you're not," he said, his tone teasing as he stood up and tugged on your hand, motioning you to get up and follow him.

As you walked away, Coco's eyes followed you two, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. You looked at her and saw her annoyance that Han was leaving in the middle of her performance. You couldn't help but sneer at Coco.

Han pulled you to the big bathroom and leaned against the sink, his arms folded across his chest. "So, you are jealous?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

You avoided his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “It’s not that” you mumbled.

Han leaned closer; his breath warm against your face. "Then what is it?" he whispered, his eyes dancing with amusement.

You looked up at him, the anger in your eyes slowly giving way to something softer. "It's just... she's got you all worked up, and... " You paused, trying to find the right words. "I’m annoyed by that”

Han's smile grew into a full-blown grin. "So, you're more than just a little jealous," he whispered, his voice dropping to a playful growl.

You swatted at him, trying to keep the irritation from your voice. "I'm not jealous,"

"Really? Then why don't you tell me what you're feeling?" His eyes searched yours, the playfulness in his tone belying the seriousness of his question.

You felt the weight of his gaze and knew you couldn't keep it in any longer. “I already told you” you said quietly.

Han cupped your face with his warm, calloused hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones gently. "You know I don't care about Coco, right?" Han's voice was steady, his gaze unwavering.

Your eyes searched his, looking for any hint of dishonesty. "But it seemed like you like watching her" you accused, voice barely above a whisper, knowing you sounded stupid and jealous.

“I only enjoy your shows, Y/n," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that sent shivers down your spine. Before you could respond, Han's lips found yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a declaration, a promise, a silent reassurance that Coco's performance meant nothing to him compared to the connection he shared with you. His hands cradled your face, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your body responding instinctively to Han's touch. You melted into the kiss, feeling the anger and tension drain away as if it had never been there. Han's kiss grew more insistent, his hands moving from your face to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. His tongue danced with yours and you wrapped your arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

When you finally broke apart, you both were breathless. "You're mine," Han murmured, his voice gruff with want. "Always." Your breath hitched, the possessiveness in his words sending a thrill through you. You leaned into him, feeling his chest against your own and the steady beat of his heart. "Then show me," you whispered, like you weren’t sure if you wanted him to hear you, but he did.

Han's eyes darkened, and without another word, he took your hand and led you back through the crowded club.

He opened the door to a small, private dressing room next to the one where you usually spent time. This was the one Coco always used, needing to have her own room. Han pulled you inside. The room was a whirlwind of feathers and fabric, the scent of Coco's perfume lingering faintly in the air. Youfelt a pang of irritation, but Han's presence washed it away. He locked the door behind you.

Turning to face you, Han's eyes were filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race. He stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb traced the line of your jaw. "Tell me if you want me to stop” he whispered.

You felt the passion in his touch. The anger and jealousy inside them had transformed into something desperate. You nodded.

With a gentle tug, Han turned you to face the mirror. His hands slid down your neck, tracing the collarbone before coming to rest on the zipper of your dress. Slowly, deliberately, he began to pull it down, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. Your breath hitched as the fabric fell away, exposing your bare skin to the cool air.

The music from the main stage grew louder and the sound of applause and cheers for Coco, but you couldn’t concentrate on anything else than Han’s eyes. You watched in the mirror as he stepped closer, his chest brushing against your bare back. His hands continued their descent, his fingers grazing the softness of your skin as he pushed the dress down further.

The fabric pooled at your waist, revealing the black lace of your lingerie. He reached to unclasp the bra, his movements sure and practiced. The material fell away. He cupped your gently, his thumbs brushing over the hardened nipples, eliciting a soft moan from you. You could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against your back, the evidence of his desire as undeniable as the passion in his eyes.

There were butterflies in your stomach the whole time. It was all so new, the touching and the desire you felt. You turned around to face him. Your hands found his belt. You wanted him, needed him, more than you had ever wanted anything. The sound of the zipper lowering was like a gunshot in the quiet room, the tension between them palpable. Han's hand covered yours, stilling your movements. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered, "Let me." You nodded as he unbuckled the belt and let his jeans fall on the floor.

Han's hands moved with purpose, the fabric of your dress sliding down your body until it was at yourr feet. You stepped out of it, legs trembling slightly. He took a step back, his eyes roving over you, taking in the sight of your nakedness. You felt exposed, vulnerable and wanted to cover yourself. But Han was quick and reached out to your hands, “Don’t, you look beautiful” he assured. Your cheeks flushed with warmth at his words, and you let your hands fall down to your sides.

Without another word, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest. Han's hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you closer and placing his lips on yours. His kiss sent a thrill through every nerve ending of yours. You moaned into his mouth; the sound muffled by his eager lips.

As you kissed, Han's hand trailed down to the juncture of your thighs, his fingers finding the dampness that had been building. He teased you through the lace of your panties, the fabric already soaked with desire. Your legs trembled, and you had to lean against the makeup table to stay upright. The anticipation was unbearable, a delicious torment that made you ache for more.

With a low growl, Han hoisted you onto the table, your legs wrapping around his waist. The coolness of the countertop sent a jolt of pleasure through you. His hand found its way under the lace, his thumb circling your clit with a gentle but insistent pressure. You moaned, your head falling back as sensation overwhelmed you.

Han's other hand snaked up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking the sensitive peak as he continued to kiss you deeply. Your hips rocked against him, seeking more, needing more. He chuckled, against your skin as he bit gently at your neck. "So eager," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He slid your panties aside, his finger slipping inside, stroking them with a slow, purposeful rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your head. “Han” you moaned his name, the sound a desperate plea that he was all too happy to answer. His movements grew more urgent.

Your kisses grew sloppy with desire. Your nails dug into his back, urging him closer, deeper. You could feel the tension coiling in your stomach, the delicious pressure building with every stroke. You had never felt this good.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, your body begging for release. You didn’t care if anyone heard you. With a final, desperate cry, you shattered, your climax crashing over you like a wave. Han's name was a litany on your lips as you rode the waves of pleasure, your body trembling uncontrollably. He held you through it, his fingers never stopping their sweet torment until your breathing evened out and your eyes focused on his once more.

Satisfaction and love shone in Han's gaze as he kissed you gently, his hand still buried between their legs, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. "That's just the appetizer," he murmured. “Unless you want me to stop”

You shook your head frantically and Han smirked. He stepped back, allowing you to catch your breath, and pulled you down from the table and stood on your shaky legs. The air was thick with anticipation as Han stood, his arousal pressing against his boxers. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you watched him reveal himself.

He stepped out of his own clothing, leaving you both bare in the soft glow of the room. Your eyes roamed over Han's body, admiring the way the light played over his muscles.

You reached out, fingertips brushing against his erection, and he hissed in a breath. The contact was like a spark, igniting the flames of passion once again. Han's hand shot out, grasping your wrist, and he leaned in, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of their neck. "Not yet," he whispered, his voice a dark rumble.

Guiding you to the velvet couch in the corner, Han pushed you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. He laid down between your legs, his erection pressing on your thigh.

Han leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss that left you toes curling. His hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of fire. He took his time, savoring every inch of your skin as if it were

the sweetest dessert. His thumb found your clit again, his touch feather-light, teasing you back to the brink of madness.

Your hips bucked, desperate for more, and Han chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through your body. "Patience," he murmured, his eyes dark with lust.

Anticipation was exquisite. You reached down, your hand shaking slightly as you wrapped it around his cock, feeling the pulse of his desire against your palm.

Han groaned, his eyes falling closed for a brief moment before snapping open again. The fire in his gaze was intense. You stroked him slowly, savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. His hips rolled into your touch, his breathing growing harsher with every stroke.

With a growl, Han took control, pushing your hand away and positioning himself at your entrance. He paused, locking his eyes with yours. You nodded, the silent consent all he needed.

He slid into you with a slow, deliberate movement that had your eyes rolling back in your head. The stretch was heavenly, filling you completely, erasing any doubt or jealousy that had been there before. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him. Han's eyes never left yours as he began to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm.

Your hands roamed over his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin as you moaned his name.

The sound of your lovemaking filled the room. Han's movements grew more urgent, his strokes deeper. You could feel the beginnings of another climax building, your body tightening around him.

Your breath grew ragged, your body moving in time with Han's, your hips rising to meet his every thrust. The feeling was indescribable, a whirlwind of pleasure. You felt your orgasm building, a tight coil of sensation in your core that grew tighter with every stroke.

Han's hands found yours, fingers lacing together. You could feel your walls tightening around him, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the scream that threatened to escape as Han's thumb found your clit once more, applying just the right amount of pressure. With a final, powerful thrust, your orgasm hit you ike a tidal wave, crashing over you and leaving you gasping for air. Han groaned, his own climax following closely behind, his body shuddering with the force of it. You clung to each other, lost in the moment, as the waves of pleasure ebbed and flowed between you.

As you came down from your high, Han collapsed onto you, his weight a comforting warmth. You laid there, your breath mingling, hearts beating in sync. The room was quiet, only the club’s music could be heard behind the door.

Your mind was racing with the realization of what just happened. You stroked Han's hair, feeling the dampness of his sweat, the softness of his skin.

"Are you still jealous?" Han's voice was a gentle rumble, his question a soft caress against your ear.

You shook your head, smiling softly. "never heard of her," you murmured.

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byemambo · 2 days

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Monster Next Door EP. 9: The Power of Expression - A Double Edge Sword

So it's been awhile since I posted any content of my own for MND, but this episode genuinely got me in the feels. I am curious whether or not there are lots of people tuning into the series because I feel like its promotion leans very playful and I'm sure for some, leaving very little room for there to break the confines of stereotypes surrounding MBTI and introversion/extroversion. However, like how I personally feel about We Are, both series have more underlying themes for those who can recognize its significant beneath the surface.

Disclaimer: this analysis will lean into my own personal connection with the character Diew, and I'll be highlighting themes such as loss of a loved one, neurodivergence, and other underlying themes of mental health and trauma. If that's something that could possibly be triggering/sensitive for some, I would just like to preface before y'all begin reading and be bombarded with some deep topics. Alright, everything is under the cut (extremely lengthy read)!

Diew's Childhood: Reverting Back into His Shell

For those who have tuned into the series, we understand that Diew has a hyperfixation of turtles, and we're sent back to a flashback montage to reveal more about his upbringing and family dynamic during childhood. We're also revealed more about Diew's connection with his father before he passed away, which low and behold: me and Diew share very similar stories as I've also lost my dad during childhood, which caused a lot of strain between me and my own mother just the same as Diew (for similar and different reasons in comparison). I might have not caught it trying to go back to find out the exact age Diew's father passed away, but the flashback gives us a rough estimation between his preteen-teenage years where a proper social relationship is established between the two.

When someone experiences traumatic events during critical developing years such as childhood and adolescence, many will remain rooted in those existing emotions and outsiders may view them for the "mental age" as our emotional growth becomes stunted. Because Diew had a close relationship between him and his father for all sorts of reasons that many people can relate to: having someone be your cheerleader, someone to introduce you to the world around us, someone to understand your own individualism and cater to it accordingly. However, I believe one of the biggest reasons for such a strong connection between Diew and his father is fairly simple: existing as the closest form of unconditional love.

Although the series hasn't stated it like The Rebound has, I personally believe Diew to be autistic, if not autistic, definitely someone of the neurodivergent experience. Even though the series revolves around the concept of MBTI, specifically categorizing Diew as your average introverted person navigating the world around him, I wholeheartedly believe his character is deeper than such a superficial label (which I believe is the main reason for why many might stray away from giving this series a chance). Even though I haven't been formally diagnosed with autism, I am diagnosed with ADHD as an adult while relating to various characteristics that are innate in autism, but many of these traits and experiences fall under the neurodivergent umbrella. I also think that the usage of the turtle archetype is incredibly powerful for the characterization of Diew: turtles are known by social norms as "slow," physically or mentally, "in their shell" aka shy/kept to themselves, and can be irritating to others because they're unaware of most "normal" social cues and are considerably lacking "common sense", etc.

In the opening sequence of the episode: we see the dynamic between Diew and his father, which as the episode progressed, we witness a conversation between the father and son about how books become doors to our own worlds that as I summarize: books become portals to our own worlds that make our ordinary lives extraordinary. Since the theme of the series is about next door neighbors meeting and falling in love with one another, I believe the relevance of Diew's love for books to be more significant than that: neurodivergent people tend to live in our own worlds.

In my experience which has developed into my own artistic branding: many of us live in a neurotypical world where we feel like an alien walking amongst other human beings, but we weren't given the travel guide or manual in understanding how to interact with them. Despite knowing that we're also living out the same human experience: nuance comes into play and for many, can hijack our lives for the worst. In Diew's circumstance as well as the average child: we are clean slates that deal with the concept of nature vs. nurture early on, as well as our environments playing critical roles in our personal development and how that development will in turn, affect how we interpret the world and engage with it.

Because Diew is a child who's quieter (in this case, not shy to interacting with others), this becomes a disruption in societal norms (which of course vary between culture to culture and other underlying intersectionalities based in race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, etc). For many neurodivergents, our engagement with the world around us breaks the pattern and mold of what society expects from each and every individual to maintain order. During childhood, most of us are our authentic versions of ourselves but hand ourselves over to the norms of society and its binaries. For many who learn from observation that their own silence and solitude is weaponized by those who adhere to the social norms, many teach themselves learned helplessness: what difference does it make if I were to speak up? It's not like anything would change because they still won't accept me for who I am.

I tend to speak in metaphors, but specific to my art background: while neurotypical society tends to interpret the world in grayscale, we tend to interpret the world in full color, as majority of us excel in pattern recognition and memory, are detail oriented, hypervigilant, and so much more. However, this experience can be overwhelming for many, which contributes to one's baseline in areas such as faulty social communication/interaction, sensory overload, mental dissonance, etc. We see this with Diew having a single close friend, wearing noise cancelling headphones to cut through sensory overload, having social anxiety during moments of being the center of attention or being asked to do things against his will and being reprimanded for honesty over "politeness."

Due to Diew's socialization and innate personality traits, his support system can act in one of two ways: acceptance or rejection/denial. Unfortunately, this is where the crossroad between his central support system begins: the desire to appease the social hierarchy of life and to come out on top, the selfishness of living life thorough the self interest of yourself or your family. To be the most recognized, the most well off, the most luxurious, the most successful, etc. For many parents that navigate the world with emotional immaturity, their priority lies in conformity over authenticity, their acceptance in changing themselves for the sake of appeasing the group. For them, nothing is more detrimental than being singled out and ridiculed/mocked: this insecurity becomes generational, this insecurity evolves into life-changing consequences such as hereditary mental health disabilities or the nurturing of one in a "normal" family. The toss up between acceptance versus denial sets itself in stone the moment moral value is assigned to one's character, when someone becomes of value based on the origin's value system.

This exchange between Diew's mother and father highlighted the moment Diew adheres to this moral belief: Diew is not like other kids. Well, what about me makes me not like other kids? In comes comparison, in comes self doubt, in comes perfectionism, in comes abnormality, in comes conflict, in comes all sorts of insecurities that take over the vulnerable: children who simply don't know any better because if mom and dad said so, it must be true, right? My parents can't be wrong about anything if it has to do with me? I am their child after all, I'm their blood, I'm the whole of two existing halves.

We have not received this context in the series, I could only put two and two together through my own lenses and what I know and experienced: the various trauma responses and coping mechanisms from each affected family member. Diew and social communication, Diew's mother and obsession with control, Diew's grandfather and undermining his physical health to maintain peace within their household. What becomes a reality check for most of us growing up as neurodivergent people: the moment we step outside of what we have been taught to believe, and finding out that we might have been wrong for most of our lives, that we've been living for all the wrong reasons. That we were living for others and not ourselves. That we cannot survive without the "care" of our loved ones: the same people who expect appraisal and worship while oppressing and undermining others in the same breath.

Intention vs. Principle: The Flaws of a Mind Reader

Although there were other moments in the previous episodes to strengthen the themes of this episode, I felt like the Phrae trip highlighted these reality checks once Diew has difficulty adjusting to God's boyfriend treatment, which is primarily acts of service. This also becomes a game of mind reading and taking away Diew's autonomy, another version of his mother and her severe control issues. The trip is another home away from home, where this behavior evolves into babying and coddling, but because the intent is out of their best wishes for Diew: damned if you do, damned if you don't becomes Diew's life motto which he slowly breaking away from after being introduced to new people in his life that showed him different experiences outside of his family and his ex boyfriend. That there are people who exist and accept him for him, that there's no reason to hide anymore.

What I appreciate throughout the scenes leading up to Diew's confrontation with God is how well Park portrays these moments of frustration and questioning God's integrity when it comes to verbal communication (his microexpressions are everything to me, saying so much with such subtlety). This is something that I have issues with as someone who describes herself as "open book," and find myself irritated whenever people are not straight forward about their intentions, or set expectations in one moment and abandon them at the drop of the hat. For us, because we tend to navigate the world with so much nuance, direct and clear communication is nonnegotiable, and if you have various mental health disabilities (I've checked into the game), the mental race to make connections and recognize the established pattern based on the evidence of prior engagements and experiences becomes instantaneous but also exhausting. But P'God had always known how to respect my boundaries...why is it changing? What made it change?

The café scene also highlighted Diew's hypervigilance, isolating the conversation between God and his friends. Because all of them tend to joke and speak with humorous undertones, social cues become incredibly difficult to decipher at times, especially with people who you haven't established expectations for communication with. Because God know his own friends but Diew does not at the same level of depth and experience, statements like these only invite more intrusive thoughts that continue to spiral as more stimuli piles on: God's friends and their lack of indoor voice in a quiet establishment, social cues pointing towards God botching the group's plans for "Diew's sake," inconsideration towards those occupying the same space and carrying themselves with entitlement, this scene stressed me out and I would have done the same as Diew in that moment. Because I'm being catered towards and everyone else is miserable because of it: I'm probably the problem then...because I'm not like other people and I'm difficult to understand and accompany. Honestly: this is why I shouldn't have come with them. I'm just burdening them.

Power of Communication: It Takes Two

This exchange not only went in the direction I was expecting it to go, but the resolve was incredibly sweet and heartwarming to me. Going back to the "damned if you do, damned if you don't" motto: what I find so special about Diew despite his superficial characteristics appearing "ungrateful" or "undeserving" to some is that his growth completely transforms the motto. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, but I'd be damned if I let this misunderstanding separate me from the person I love. What I appreciate about God on the receiving end was the navigation of this conversation and how both parties confront their innate ideologies and understanding. Diew prefaces the difficult conversation with praising God, not starting off the exchange with immediate criticism that would drive most insecure people away and tune out any revealing information afterwards. However, God allows Diew to finish his entire thought before proceeding with his response. which I anticipated as such: "I'm doing all of this for you and now you're saying you don't like any of it, so that makes me the bad guy then."

The beautiful moment that had me rooting for Diew was the confidence in standing his ground, something that we've seen develop in him as the story progresses during exchanges with people such as Jane and his mother. That he has autonomy, that he has a voice that is heard and accepted for what it is and not what it's "supposed" to be, that he can be understood because he may not be like other people, that was never the problem, which actually lies with everyone unwilling to become the person they need to be for him: that his boundaries may force you to reevaluate the way you carry yourself in this dynamic and no longer hold the power within your hands. The moment of recognizing that we become victims to the world by choice and the confinements of our own body and mind, and that the world may never truly reveal itself to those who deliberately choose ignorance over awareness: the choice of empowerment over oppression.

On the opposite side of this exchange, God goes through a revelation: the misstep in passive listening. Many people, especially those with faulty communication and emotionally perplexed, only engage in communication to hear what they want to hear. To identify within the confines of the binary: good vs. bad, like vs. dislike, yes vs. no. During the first half of the conversation of reassuring God with positive reinforcement, Diew softens the blow that will most likely arise: the potential of punishing someone else for doing a "good" thing. Insecurity feeds off of self identification, rooting itself as a core belief once someone turns that delusion into a false reality: the moment Diew says "I really don't like it" becomes that signal for confirmation bias to rush in. Win's prior qualms against him despite being in the same band, Jane antagonizing Diew while also putting God down in the process, and I'm sure so much more. If not properly dealt with and nipped at the bud: these intrusive thoughts become a breeding ground for toxicity to occur and cause a rift in the dynamic from an exchange of false words. But through his own personal development and growth: God was able to turn a not so pleasant moment into another piece of evidence that he is a safe space for Diew to unmask and keep the conversation true to himself. Rather than chasing Diew back inside his shell, he only invites Diew to continue remaining in his authentic self.

Emotional Dumping: The Arrival of Guilt and Shame

This part of the episode almost ran me over ten different times: it made me feel seen, it made me feel heard, it made me feel represented. All because I've literally had this exact same thing happen to me (and more) with my own mother, so this moment felt incredibly personal to me and understood Diew on a deeper level than most viewers might have not even considered when watching this series. When your family goes through a grief as difficult as the death of a parent, the drastic switch from a two parent household to a one parent household is absolutely devastating, especially when your children are young. Single parents if they choose to remain single stretch themselves thin, they are constantly overwhelmed with doing all they could and still unable to scratch the surface with many things, and unfortunately most of them trap themselves with egocentrism by comparing themselves to an alternative life unlived if their partner were still present. Most of them subscribe to a life filled with "debt" that requires repayment: this repayment is their kids believing in the narrative of being a burden, of being owed to repay back every little piece of ourselves to our parents, of being told that we cannot survive without their involvement (some even going as far as using the existence of their own children to support their entitlement for reparations), of simply existing to uplift their parent at the cost of their own autonomy and self worth.

"And I a bad son?" I don't think I could really describe the emotions I was experiencing when I witnessed this exchange of words, because I've had this conversation in my own life on multiple occasions verbatim. The headspace Diew occupies when it comes battling this internal struggle between being a "good" son while also expecting his mother to be a "good" mother, and the devastation that comes along with realizing that those two conditions may not actually exist. The progress Diew achieves from being someone who was intimidated by person to person interactions, someone who people benefited from his own silence and inability to confront others, someone who deep down deals with a battle of justifying his own value due to inconsistent value judgments from his core support system, brings me to tears because for many of us, myself included, deal with this level of trauma to the point where therapeutic intervention and personal accountability for debunking and redefining our core beliefs that have deeply planted themselves inside of us may be the only solution to properly negating all that we've known. That no matter what I do, I'll never be good enough, not even for my own mother.

God's response to this moment of being told such a personal matter (even if it was only the surface) honestly continues to heal parts of me little by little and living through Diew vicariously. The development of their relationship and taking the appropriate time to address various areas in their dynamic: some days will be baby steps, other days will be strides, on occasion full speed, every now and then there will be rain checks. But the one thing that will remain a constant: I'm willing to embark on this journey with you by my side.

Honorable Mention: There's No Place Like Home

Ok time to ACTUALLY go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight: thank you for those who made it down here, I bring cookies! 🍪 But on a more serious note: my ears are always open to feedback or any thoughts others might have. I appreciate MND for having this level of characterization for these two and I can't wait to see what else they'll get thrown into even better if Pee gets socked in the face by God but of course on Diew's terms. Alright good night <3

#monster next door #monster next door the series #park anantadej #big thanakorn #thai bl #thai series #bl series #mambo.speaks #diew is me and i am diew #i genuinely wasn't expecting to be this moved by this episode #it clearly did some numbers on me #i didn't think i would identify with any character from the recent series #guys: mnd is actually based on my life story harhar

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