#all he said was ‘I wanted to study linguistics’

[kachow-i-love-being-me]

Going insane and crazy about Patrick Stump saying he wanted to study linguistics at one point. He’s literally me

[liillyliilly]

No Free-Solo

kenji sato x reader words; 10021 synopsis; from high school on, kenji couldn't do it alone, especially not when she was there for him.

“You’re missing me with that busy shit. You’re missing me with your whole ‘I can’t come over tonight’ act.” Kenji sat in what she liked to refer to as his dungeon, his lair, his Ultraman den. His too large for life couch made of black leather was cold and the emptiness was expansive in his mansion. He wanted her near, he wanted her to come back.

“I really can’t come over, I’m helping out Ami with Chiho tonight.” She tried to let him down gently, but he huffed through the phone.

She wasn’t a nanny per se, but she did do a fair amount of long-term babysitting for lots of people, mostly for Ami, occasionally for other busy mothers. She had a certain touch to the whole watching and raising kids thing, entertaining the child while also educating them.

Chiho was snoring in her bed. Ami was out with her fellow reporter boyfriend. And she, well she was watching movies in the family room of Ami’s house. Drawings that Chiho had done were covering the walls, plenty of Ultraman pictures to Kenji’s amusement.

She knew the Sato family through a long-winded connection by friendship shared between mothers. Kenji’s mom was best friends with her mom. In terms of maturity though, she was light years ahead of Kenji even when they were in high school. Back in America, when life was typical (meaning lacking in Kaiju and Ultraman responsibility) and the LA Dodgers still reigned supreme in Kenji’s head. They had met for the first time right before her junior year and his senior year.

She would be the youngest junior at the school and he would be one of the oldest seniors at their Los Angeles high school.

Her mom had insisted they visit her good friend the summer before her junior year started, and that she would need to help the son out in adapting to American High school since they had just moved from Japan.

She was worried due to a potential language barrier, but her mom assured her that he would be fluent in English. But how would her mom know that? Her anxiety was off the charts. She spent hours studying basic Japanese, which she found was probably going to kill her, why a language needs more than one writing system was beyond her.

“Ah! It’s so good to see you, Emiko!” Her mom went in for a big hug, and the petite Japanese woman returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as had been given. Her mom muttered about the separation between Emiko and Hayao, and Emiko gave a strained smile, leading them into the house.

Kenji was lounging on the couch, which she soon learned that he loved to do, a tendency to sprawl due to his height and lankiness. He was switching TV channels, until he landed on a baseball game and committed to watching that.

Her mom ushered her over to him, telling her to make conversation and get to know him. How she expected her to do that despite not knowing him at all was a wonder. She didn’t suspect that they had anything in common, and with the zeal he was watching the baseball game, she also suspected that he wasn’t going to be a huge fan of her preference for movies and shows over sports.

So she mustered up a greeting in Japanese from a textbook she had picked up. She had missed the way his eyes glinted with amusement, it was at that moment he decided to play just a small inconsequential game. A game where he pretended he didn’t know any English.

He responded in Japanese, and she realized she really knew nothing at all about Japanese. He sat up and patted the seat next to him. The moms left the main living space in favor of drinking some tea upstairs on a balcony, leaving her alone and incapable of communicating.

Pointing to herself, she said her name with a forced smile. He said ‘Kenji’ while pointing to himself and saying a variety of other words that she had no idea meant anything at all. At least Japanese sounded pretty, so she started thinking about the linguistic history and design of the syllables. He waved a hand in front of her face and she snapped out of her mini history lesson to herself.

Pushing his joke a little further, he used his head to point to a door near the stairs. She raised an eyebrow. He spoke for a few more moments, and she could only stiffly smile and nod in return. When he grabbed her hand and went to the door she thought she was going to die.

Inside the door was his room, and she really thought that this was the end of her sanity, her childhood, her innocence. She had fandangled herself into an intimate relationship with someone who didn’t even speak English and her heart was going to burst at the seams. Trying to recall all the words she had memorized, she was mad that she never learned the words for; no, stop, or I’ll kill you.

It was when she began to slink towards the door and hold her arms across her body in a cross shape that he realized maybe he should drop the joke. Her ears seemed like they were burning and her breathing had increased to a mile a minute in pace.

“Relax, I just wanted to show you my baseball cards.” He held up a binder and opened it to reveal a collection of player cards double sleeved and tucked neatly into a sheet protector.

“I thought you didn’t speak any English!” She frowned and put a hand to her heart. He laughed and she realized she had fallen for a trick.

“My bad.” He holds his hands together and puts them up near his head with a slight bow to apologize. Kenji pushes his bangs back and licks his top row of teeth, “Do you know if our school has a baseball team?” He asks.

She nods. “We’re in the top bracket for playing, it’s super hard to get onto the team though, my friend tried-”

He raised a hand to get her to stop speaking, then he informed her of his inherent athletic prowess, “Believe me, I’ll get onto the team.”

And he had. He’d even qualified to play on the varsity team.

A few months into the school year, while she was eating in the library with some friends, Kenji came bustling into the open space with his pack of baseball players. They always tagged along behind him, treating him like some sort of fancy foreign exchange kid, which she realized was exactly the situation and so her mental analogy didn’t end up working out and she clicked her teeth.

But the majority of white boys at the school did tend to lean a little too hard into the racial stereotypes and unfunny jokes. All Kenji could do sometimes was purse his lips and keep eating his natto. They thought because they had an Asian friend it was an excuse for their behavior, why Kenji never stood up to them and told them off was a huge confounding plight in her eyes. Kenji himself didn’t quite understand it either. Not even when they shortened his name into just Ken for ease and convenience.

Before she could tidy up her comparison and dissection of Kenji Sato, he was leaning on her desk, eating her carrots and searching for her eyes to meet him. He said something in Japanese, and she tried to remember how the words sounded so she could look up what he had said.

“I need your help.” He stole a bite of her sandwich, then drank some of her water. Before he even took it without asking, she offered her pastry to him and he ate the whole thing in one bite and mumbled a ‘thanks’ with his mouth full. He finished chewing and swallowing.

“I need you to pretend to date me so I can get these guys off my back.” He stuck his thumb in the direction of his teammates.

“Absolutely not. No way in hell, Kenji.” She started to pack up her bag, but he just put his hand on her bag and pressed it hard against the desk. With his other hand he gently grabbed her by the chin, and tilted her face up to his. Inches away. Her eyes went wide.

“Pretty please?” He licked his lips and she tried to bring her own face back to avoid his tongue getting to her lips.

She thought about what her mom said, telling her to help out Kenji if he needed it. This couldn't apply though, right?

“I’m going to need so many favors.” She groaned, managing to get her bag out from under his hands.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, ruffling her hair and heading out with his friends who began to goad him for keeping her a secret for so long. He had just taken her first kiss and it didn’t seem like it bothered him at all. She was too busy pressing her hand to her lips to even notice the way his ears were a scorching hot red.

When she went to research what he had said to her, she thought she must have misheard him because the proposed English translation was something along the lines of, ‘please let this work out in my favor’.

Continuously, she called in favors, and he was there to meet them. Getting books off the top shelves in the library. Sharpening pencils when they were studying. Even helping her learn just a little more of his language.

“No, no you gotta give each syllable its own beat. Copy me.” Kenji went over the blended ‘r’ and ‘l’ sound that felt clunky in her mouth.

She did replicate what he was saying, at least to her own belief that that was her best ability. He laughed a little and she frowned.

“Okay, move your tongue a little, right behind your front teeth, but also not touching your teeth, just let your tongue kinda do the sound in the middle.” Kenji opened his mouth a little so she could observe. She tried again but it sounded even worse than the first attempt.

“I wish I could just move your tongue for you so you could get the motion right.” She looked quickly side to side, biting her bottom lip. Kenji backtracked immediately, “That didn’t come out quite right, I think that’s enough Japanese for one day.” She nodded rapidly and closed the journal she was using to take notes.

He said that they could go get food, she agreed and they got burgers and milkshakes at a run down family owned diner. He paid, despite her insisting she could pay for her own food. Saying that that was apart of the whole fake dating thing.

“You know, you do a lot of things under the guise of our not dating, dating thing.” She sipped her milkshake. Kenji took a bite of his burger, musing about what he would say.

“Well, we’re friends as well right?”

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out since you basically arrived here. We’re friends, but honestly, we behave more like best friends.” She finished off her shake and cleaned up her area.

That was something he liked about her, her consideration for cleanliness and organization. But also her appreciation for others around her, cleaning up her stuff so that the likely overworked waitress didn’t have to. A person who thinks about other people. Now that was his type he decided.

“I’m happy with being best friends.”

In all fairness, he was probably the best fake boyfriend that a girl could’ve asked for. They had settled on knowing their relationship was best friends, but for others they had the additional label of dating. Sometimes though, he’d do something like grab her hand or wrap an arm around her. When those situations presented themselves, she always looked for possible viewers, his teammates. But based on her data, he only did things like that around 20% of the time when his teammates were actually watching. Meaning that the other 80% of the time he did the physical acts of affection, no one was around to watch.

While his English was practically perfect, he had the hardest time in social studies and history, so he got her help with his U.S. government class. He claimed that because he hadn’t lived here at all, and because he had Japanese citizenship that this class was completely useless for him. His defeatist attitude towards history made her roll her eyes at him.

One day, when she was intending to come over to help him, Emiko crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as he cleaned up his room. He threw his baseball socks and jersey into the dirty clothes hamper.

“She’s coming over then?”

He mumbled an affirmative answer.

Emiko got giddy, saying she’d make a good rich curry tonight for dinner and that he’d need to tell her to stay for dinner. He gave a wave and kept picking up his room.

When the doorbell rang, he ran to the door. Emiko chastened him and told him to calm down. He let her in, and she greeted his mom, giving Emiko the box of fruit her own mom told her to drop off. He complained in Japanese that she always went straight to his mom instead of greeting him first. Emiko in turn smiled at her while scolding her son again in Japanese.

Watching the conversation unfold, she shrugged, Japanese was just not her strong suit.

“How hard is it to understand a constitutional federal republic?” She looked over his essay answer to a prompt she had given him to practice for his upcoming test. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, chewing the end of a pen. She was leaning against his bed frame, reading papers and marking up his essay with her red pen. Each time she made another red mark, he grumbled. Of all the people she had tutored though, his handwriting was the best.

“Correct these things first, and then I can edit again with my orange pen.” She held up said pen while handing the paper back to him. He just mimicked what she had said, holding his own pen the same way she had held up hers, even going so far as to bring his shoulders upwards to make him appear smaller.

In response to the insulting imitation she grabbed her notebook and hit him repeatedly on the knee. He let out a pained ouch, and she felt bad, so she put the notebook away and just patted his knee instead.

“If you really loved me you’d just write out the whole essay and then I could just memorize it and cross apply the right parts for the actual prompt Mr. Henry gives in class next week.” Kenji adjusted his body position, and her hand wasn’t on his knee anymore but dead center of his thigh instead. He smirks, and she immediately retracts her hand.

“Good thing I don’t love you then.” Kenji presses his hand to his heart and sighs, falling back into his pillow. “Just do the essay Jiji.”

He lifted his head and repeated what she had said, “Jiji?”

“Kenji.” She says his name and enunciates the two syllables cleanly.

“I like Jiji, I think it suits me. It’s a cute nickname.”

He finished rewriting the essay while she poked around his room. Photos of him with his mom and dad, which she already knew not to ask about because last time she did he went total silence for two weeks. But then he felt guilty about ghosting and took her out to get a sweet treat everyday after school for one week straight. Trophies from his old school back in Japan for his baseball achievements. Multiple MVP awards from the games he had played here.

The other photos that were in his room were mostly of him and his teammates. He just didn’t look too happy in those ones, so she tried to skim them, but failed. His teammates did their best to make him seem like he was a part of the group, but it just didn’t click all the way. Kenji always looked too serious in the photos, or it seemed like he was actually looking at the baseball diamond instead of the person taking the photo.

There was an adorable little figure, made either of acrylic or vinyl, of a little superhero with a red and silver supersuit and a blue circle on the chest. She picked it up and inspected it. What she assumed was Kenji’s name was on the foot of the toy. She bent the arms of the toy and moved it around like it was flying midair.

Kenji had completely paused writing his essay in favor of watching her dart around his room. He clenched his jaw for a second when she picked up the Ultraman toy, then eased his body language when she started making the toy fly around. If only that’s what Ultraman really was, just a toy. Just a toy and not an impending responsibility to protect and serve the people of Japan from Kaiju monsters. He wondered if she’d ever want to live somewhere besides Los Angeles. Tokyo for example.

“Kenji! Curry! Get the applesauce from the cabinet please!” Emiko called out.

She set the toy down and turned around, but Kenji was already standing right behind her. He had only meant to watch her movements a little more closely, but now this was entirely too close. He played it off like he was adjusting the Ultraman doll, smiled and then opened his door for her to exit and head downstairs.

When he heard the steps trailing down, he silently screamed and raised his hands to the sides of his head. Then he dragged a hand down his face and carded fingers through his hair. He envied the self he saw in the photos, cool and nonchalant.

“So, are there any boys you think are cute at school?” Emiko ate another bite of katsu that was drenched in curry sauce.

She swallowed thickly for a second, “I- uh, no. There’s not many good options for dating material at a hyper-athletic school.” She laughed to cut the edge off the conversation.

Emiko drank some water, but then prodded a little more. Kenji wished the earth would open and swallow him up.

“Not even at a school full of athletes? I would’ve sworn there were some good options for you on Kenji’s baseball team. What was his name? Eric? Eli?”

“Ohh, Ezra Johnson?” She supplied, eating some applesauce and then tapping her mouth with a napkin.

Kenji looked to her, then to his mom, then back at her. He was trying to stuff his face with his food so he could exit the conversation and then drag her and himself back to his room. She seemed insistent on blocking out the whole fake dating thing from his mom’s view and perception.

“Yes! He’s a really nice kid! He actually greeted me when I went to the first game. It was so sweet of him. His mom and I got to know each other a little bit. I can send you his details if you want?” Emiko grazed the back of her phone.

“No!” Kenji burst. His mom and his fake girlfriend both looked at him. “Uh, Ezra is talking to this girl named, um, Claire. Yeah, Claire.” He held his plate up and his mom nodded.

Rinsing his plate off he put it into the dishwasher, then from behind his mom’s back he tried mouthing to her so they could go back upstairs but she was too busy still talking to his mom to notice anything.

When she finally finished eating, she said she needed to go back home.

“What about my essay though?” Kenji rested his forearms on the kitchen counter while she was busy doing the dishes despite having to gently fight with Emiko about letting her even do the dishes in the first place.

“I gave you enough content to work with, just do the corrections and you’ll be good to go.” She bumped the dishwasher with her hip to close it, and he wondered what her bumping into him would feel like. And then he groveled a little that he wanted to be a dishwasher for even a split second. “I need to do my own homework now, tell your mom thank you again for me, okay?”

She rubbed his arm to comfort him slightly, but he took his chance to reach to her hip, tugging her lightly into him.

“What are you doing?” She hissed at him, trying to keep her voice down in case Emiko was still lurking around.

“Saying thanks for the help, goodbye, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed the hand that she had on his arm and held her hand for a second, then brought it up to his mouth to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled, then pushed his shoulder.

When she had left the house, he flung himself onto the couch and giggled a little. Kicking his feet that were dangling over the arm of the couch. His mom peeked downstairs to see Kenji wriggling around and muttering. She just laughed a little. Maybe her instigation had worked out in the end.

The next week, she was hounded by baseball players after school.

She kept holding up a hand to cover her face, but they would not relent. Asking questions about her and Kenji. What Kenji was like outside of school, outside of baseball. If Kenji ever stopped being serious and aloof for even a minute. At this point they were just crowding her and not giving her the space to breathe.

She kept giving short curt answers, tugging her backpack straps closer and closer to her. At one point, one of them stepped on her foot and she winced a little.

It was like some kind of sonar sensor, Kenji could tell something was wrong. When he turned the corner, all he could see was his girl getting cornered by a bunch of idiots who didn’t even have his best interest at heart. The only reason why he asked her to fake date him was so that he could get out of dates with the girls his teammates had thought would suit him. The secondary reason was so she could avoid his teammates entirely. But clearly, the second reason did not go as planned because his teammates were a bunch of no-brainers who didn’t even really care about baseball.

“Hey, let’s go, I’ll drive you home today.” Kenji stuck his hand in between two of his teammates, and she grabbed it, so he was able to pull her out from the crowd they had made around her.

He strung two fingers around her jean belt loop and guided her to his car. When they finally sat down, and Kenji had started the engine, she let out a shaky breath. He put his hand behind her seat, and then moved his hand so he could lightly touch the back of her neck at her nape.

“Are you okay? I had no idea they would do something like that, I mean, it’s just completely ridiculous. I don’t even talk to them that much, if at all. And they treat me like some kind of foreigner, which I may be yeah, but really come on. That’s just herd mentality to the max. Ridiculous behavior, so childish.” Kenji kept talking while driving, she thought that maybe he needed a chance to really unload everything and mitigate the tension that had built up around him.

When they got to her house, he apologized again. And again.

“Don’t let it eat you alive, it’s all good, no harm no foul, if it makes you feel better, they totally reeked of body odor.” She chimed in after he finished his long wind of apologies. “And, um, what time is your game on Wednesday? My mom asked, she wants to hang out with your mom.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to see me completely kill the opposing team.” Kenji tried to lean out of the car just a little more, but his seatbelt kept him from getting his head out of the passenger side window. “I’ll text you. Get to your house safe ok?”

To her house from the car was approximately seven steps. The smile she gave him wrinkled her eyes and creased her nose just perfectly. He slid his hands up and down the wheel, smiling to himself as he started home.

The game went perfectly, he stole practically all the bases, and he made two home run hits. And an LA Dodgers scout was there. Once he got the documents and the scout shaked his hand, he was over the moon excited to play for the best team in the United States.

When he saw her with her mom and his mom, he just couldn’t hold himself back. In a second, he was hugging her and ranting about the scout continuously just repeating the experience over and over. Since his mom knew she would have a hard time prying Kenji off of his best friend, she just had to listen in to what he was saying, and she clapped when she had finally heard it all, celebrating from just far enough away to let them enjoy the moment.

His graduation was boring, she sat with his mom in the stands waiting for him to get his name called out. There were a lot of speeches, and she recognized the valedictorian from various library encounters, but for the most part everyone was a stranger to her. Emiko kept getting a call from an international number, but she didn’t try to ask about it.

Kenji barrelled through the crowd of graduates to get to his people, his mom and his best friend. When he started to talk about what he was going to do over the summer, his baseball camps and training, getting to meet the members of his team. His mom put a gentle hand to his shoulder, and he furrowed his eyebrows at the serious environment his mom had suddenly crafted. She backed away a little, but Kenji grabbed her hand and shook his head, telling her to stay for whatever his mom had to say.

“Kenji, your dad, he’s, your dad wants to talk to you. He’s, he’s on the phone.” Emiko couldn’t help but stutter a little, unnerved with how Kenji would react.

Kenji shook his head no, pulling her closer to him trying to use her as a crutch to prevent an interaction with his father from occurring. She looked between Kenji and his mother for a moment. Emiko with her tightened face and hand gripping the phone tightly said more than what her original request was saying. Emiko wanted Kenji to answer the call. So, she in turn encouraged him to answer it.

“Jiji, just answer the call. It’s your dad.” He felt betrayed.

“I’m not picking up the phone, I’m not talking to dad, and I’m getting a ride with a friend.” He pulls his hand away, despite missing her touch, and leaves his mom and her standing and stunned from his reaction.

Emiko pulled her into a side hug. “Thanks for backing me, you’re much more mature than I think people give you credit for. I have udon at home, call your mom and let’s have a girls night. I don’t think he’ll be home for a while. I’ll let him blow off steam today, but don’t think I’m soft on him, he’ll have some hell to pay when I catch him tomorrow.”

Patting the back of her head, Emiko went to the small electric van. She stood for a second, thinking about the space Kenji had just occupied. Maybe the family dynamic in the Sato household was more complex than she had anticipated, Emiko seemed to still love her husband despite them being separated. Kenji seemed adverse to and angry with his father, but Emiko didn’t carry any slight of resentment.

Girls night was a blast, including face masks and bad romance movies. Kenji got back around midnight, just as her mom and her were leaving his house. When she left, he was the one who closed the door after her. He gave a short pained smile and a wave. In her mind, it was a win because at least he wasn’t upset with her for taking Emiko’s side.

Summer was hot and burned the apples of her cheeks, leaving both sunburns and memories in it’s fragmented state. Kenji was busy conditioning for baseball practically everyday. Somedays he’d invite her out just to watch him play, so she could sip some icy lemonade and sit in the shade instead of being cooped in her house doing whatever it is that homebodies do.

It would be deceiving to say that she didn’t enjoy just watching him play. The way his baseball jersey would bunch at his elbows and shoulders when he hit the ball. Or the way he would run the bases each time he missed a throw from the ball machine. He still needed to get a haircut, so his bangs would completely cover most of his face, until he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and his almost snake-like eyes would study her from afar.

The best part was when he told her to move her legs a little, so he could sit on the row of bleachers in front of her. Eventually positioning himself to settle in between her legs, resting his arms on her thighs and his head was leaning on her torso. Although his sweat would lightly mark up her shirts when his hair dripped from his practice rounds, she still loved to be there for him in this capacity.

Either he was here with her or he would be at the diamond alone and angry. When he came alone, he would throw his bat when he made a mistake instead of just brushing it off and doing a lap. Somehow, doing baseball training alone while waiting for official LA Dodgers’ orders made him all pent up and out of control. So when she came to observe, it felt like he had more things in his control, his ability to manage.

“How are you gonna survive without me next year?” Kenji rolled his shoulders before getting his water bottle and guzzling down the IV infused liquid.

“Well, as far as everyone knows, we’re still dating, so I’ll have another year of free solo-ing the romance world at a hormone ridden cesspool.” She slid her backpack on, ready to start the trek home.

Kenji slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, then quickly switched which shoulder his bag was on once he saw which side she let her bag rest on, so that their bags wouldn’t bump into each other as he walked her home.

“You’re not gonna tell people we ended it?” Kenji sucked in some air through his teeth, readjusting the bag’s weight placement a little.

“Nah, it’s just easier that way. At graduation though if anyone asks how we’re doing I’ll say you found a supermodel that preys on greenie Pro-Baseball players.”

He nods, accepting the route she was going in order to terminalize their fake relationship.

“I was a good boyfriend though, right?” Maybe he asked so that he could feel out the possibility of a real one, or seeing what he could do better when he finally worked up enough courage to ask her out for real and for forever. For now though, he knew that friendship would satiate most of his yearning for her time and attention.

“Comparatively, to what I heard other girls went through, you were practically a saint. I mean, you never did press me into a couch so we could make out. Ruby held that over my head for the whole year once her girlfriend did that to her.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad actually,” Kenji stroked his chin, “One last boyfriend duty for me to do before I get too busy, ya know?”

“Kiss me without permission and you're a dead baseball boy.” He held up his hands defensively.

“That was one time.”

“In the middle of the library, in front of a good majority of my friends, right after I had been begged to be a fake girlfriend.”

Kenji raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head, “I do not recall begging.”

“You definitely begged,” She clasped her hands together and turned towards him, pausing their pace on the sidewalk for her to parody him, “Pretty please.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and pouted dramatically.

He rolled his eyes and tugged her hands so she would keep walking.

The postseason began around October for Kenji, and he made his official debut into the stage of professional baseball. Around the fifth game he played, he snapped. And that’s why he was sitting on her bathroom counter holding a bag of peas to the side of his face, while she dug through the closet just outside the bathroom looking for a first aid kit.

The catcher had just stepped out of line according to Kenji, messing up his at bat routine with his comments about his age, his inexperience, his lack of genuine talent. The first punch was Kenji’s, the second punch was the catcher’s and it rocked Kenji immediately.

Tasting the metallic blood in his mouth, he was just glad all his teeth were okay. He did feel bad for going to her instead of going home. But he knew that his mom would’ve killed him for hitting another player. The only reason why his mom wasn’t at this specific game was because she had some research files from years ago that his father needed, so she was spending the time trying to transfer data from floppy disks to USB drives.

She should’ve been asleep, or studying for her upcoming exams. He felt like an inconvenience and like a child who was being coddled, but he did feel like he was being fawned over by her which he could live with. Even the way she had reacted to him texting her and asking if she could help patch him up a little. She had sent nearly thirty messages, mostly angry, but also laced with worry.

“This might sting a little.” She reached up and pressed a cloth to his lip. He lurched away from the disinfectant, and she almost fell over due to having to reach up to get to his face.

“Hold on, give me a second.” Kenji got off the counter regardless of her complaints, she stopped complaining and was silenced once he swapped their positions, her sitting on the counter and him in front of her with his hands on either side of her hips, placed on the edge of the counter. “Better.”

She hummed a little, pressing the cloth to his face again, he tried to not lurch away this time. She put some triple antibiotic ointment on his lip and temple where there were some cuts. Putting some small star shaped bandages on his face where the cuts were biggest.

“All done!” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave a big smile.

Maybe he leaned in, maybe he didn’t. But their lips were definitely touching. When she pushed him away he realized he must have made a fatal error. So he decided to play it off.

“Sorry, a little faint from the fight earlier, not in my right mind.”

“Yeah, you, uh, you were just trying to, yeah.” She chewed the inside of her mouth.

Kenji helped her off the counter, and walked to her front door, ready to head out.

Holding onto the door, she stuck her head out and commented to him before he got too far away from hearing distance, “No more fights okay?”

He threw her a thumbs up before leaving her house. When he was safely back in his car, he did something that was all too familiar when he slipped up around her, he silently screamed and gripped his hair.

Years went by.

They stayed close, and he made sure of that. Baseball was going great, but no championships under his belt. She had graduated college, working at an office as an assistant. She moved out of her family home and got a shared apartment with some college friends who also worked in the main part of Los Angeles

Then, his dad hurt his leg, and everything went to hell. Hayao had called, telling Kenji it was finally time to take the name of Ultraman. He now needed to bear the gauntlet, the responsibility of keeping his home country safe. His mom just agreed, putting her hands on Kenji’s knee. Telling Kenji it was finally time for him to go home and be who he was supposed to be. And he was supposed to be Ultraman?

Baseball was his thing, he knew baseball and he was good at it too. Baseball felt like home, LA felt like his home, she felt like his home.

On top of all that, within a week of his father’s request and his mother’s urging, his mother had an accident. He had no idea what happened. Just that one day, Emiko was there and then she wasn’t.

He was depressed, and so he drank. His house was a mess. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, he was wearing the same clothes from four days ago. His toothbrush had become unfamiliar. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, staying in the dark and sulking.

When her mom found out about Emiko’s disappearance and presumed death, she called her daughter and told her to check in on Kenji. He had been distant lately, and she knew that the distance was a result of his grief. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she realized she hadn’t reached out to him in a few weeks.

His front door was locked, she had a basket of fruit and a stack of tupperwares filled with lunches and dinners for an entire week. She tried to think about what food were both comforting and had a lot of protein, so she made a variety of pasta dishes with extra meat.

“Kenji?” She knocked repeatedly, checking her phone only to see that her messages had been left on read. She called out for him again, knocking harder. “I know you’re in there Jiji.”

Opening the door made her grasp the gravity of the situation he was in. His hair was covering his face, he seemed to have recoiled into himself, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt instead of his typical jeans and jersey thrown over a solid color tee. He smelled too, not of his usual mintiness and clean linen, but of all and any sort of alcohol. With eye bags darker than dirt, and hollow looking features, he just left the door open as he lurked back into his blacked out house.

Setting her gifts on his kitchen counter, she turned on the lights, and got to work. First the dishes, and then she picked up all the clothing and started a load of laundry. She made him a plate of the food she had brought, and a big glass of water and some Advil for the inevitable hangover he would have.

Lying on the couch, Kenji played with the hem of his sweatshirt. He tried to take another sip straight from a bottle of red wine when she stole it out of his hands. Whining, he told her to give it back and turn the lights off. She clicked her tongue.

“Eat this,” she handed him the plate, “Drink this,” she sat the water and pill on the coffee table. She tapped her foot, her arms folded in front of her chest. He groaned but did as told.

Satisfied with his actions, she dragged him upstairs and told him to take a shower. Hearing the water running, she looked around his room and cleaned it up. His passport, along with a one way ticket to Tokyo for one month out, was on the floor, covered by blankets that were strewn around. Opened letters were lying on the floor as well, pictures and clippings of ‘Kaiju’ attacks in Japan. Maybe she needed to brush up on her international news instead of staying in her little bubble.

Coming out of the shower with baggy clothes on, he dried his hair with a small towel.

“What are you doing?” He saw her holding the letters his dad had sent. He reached out for them, but she held them back and to her chest.

“What are Kaiju?”

Soon, he was sitting on his bed with her as well. He had the Ultraman doll in his left hand and a stuffed animal that she had given him some years ago in his right hand.

“Basically, I’m this, by blood,” He shook the Ultraman doll, “And I’m supposed to fight these back home. Since my father can’t anymore.” Laughing slightly, he slammed Ultraman into the stuffie repeatedly.

Her eyes were wide. She may not have understood everything about what he was, or what he was supposed to be doing, but she knew it was important to him to some degree. It was irrelevant that his dad needed him, the only thing he cared about was that his mom had asked him to take the step to become something he wasn’t sure of.

But the idea that her best friend was going to be a superhero? That he could change into some kind of robotic monster slayer? She had to disconnect a little from reality just to process the whole thing.

Suddenly, he thought of something that could possibly get him out of his funk. Something that could make his time in Tokyo, living an entirely new life bearable.

“There’s some extra rooms at the place I’ll be living in. I know that you want to go to some kind of graduate school. There are really good graduate schools in Tokyo.” He scratched the back of his head, if she said yes, then he would be truly mortified that she had seen him like this but he would also get to have neverending time with her on a day to day basis if she agreed.

“I remember none of the Japanese you taught me, I’d need to get a visa,” She started listing off all the things that would keep her from leaving, “But, uh, I think I’ll go with you. Yes.”

“I can handle the visa thing, you’re just going to need to sign some papers and have an interview with some people, and you’ll need to wear a ring on your ring finger. As for the Japanese, I’m a better teacher now than when I was 18.”

Getting married was not on her bucket list, but at least she could get better tuition at her graduate school for technically being a form of naturalized Japanese national. Her mom was glad to see her living away from LA, and she was grateful for Kenji going with her daughter. Her mom just didn’t know about the marriage for a green card/visa situation, and honestly, she didn’t plan on telling her mom.

The whole flight to Tokyo she was practicing her Japanese with Kenji. For the first time in a long time, he was actually happy. Not ready for the whole Ultraman thing, but ready at least to leave home and be out of LA. Los Angeles reminded him of his mother, every street sign, every restaurant, the greenery and flowers, it all came back to his mom.

What he had explained to her as the Ultrabase wasn’t just some place that he was staying at, it was a literal industrial modern masterpiece of a mansion. The sleek design ebbed and flowed into the molding of the island it resided on. Ceilings higher than a museum’s, she traced her finger along every surface trying to soak in the elitism of it all. He reclined himself on the ginormous couch, watching her observe the surroundings.

To him, she was the best feature of the homebase. Where most things were cold and stricken with a detrimental weight of his responsibility, she was like a beam of no expectations. She gave him the space to just exist without pressure. That and she was always fighting with his robot assistant MINA which also made each time returning back from fighting a little easier to endure.

“Listen MINA, I just think that you’d be more effective if you were pink, also can you pass me my pencil case.” She was sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on candy and working on an assignment from one of her professors on her Master’s Committee. MINA used an extended robot hand to fly over the pencil case that had been in her backpack.

“If I was pink, it would detract from my integrated design.” MINA floats around her head, observing her completed work thus far. “Your work is completely correct, why are you changing the grammatical structure?”

“For the love of the process MINA, for the love of the process.”

Kenji just ate another bite of his New York Strip, enjoying the free entertainment. When he finished his meal, he asked if she wanted to go out for an adventure.

Matching helmets, black and gold design with her wearing one of his extra leather jackets just in case. For safety he justified. The cool Tokyo air felt even colder as they rushed around the streets, lane splitting and cutting in between cars. The headphones had built in bluetooth so they were listening to a shared playlist they had made. Blending rap, RNB, pop, and EDM crafted the right ambiance needed for a late night drive.

In some ways, Tokyo was similar to LA. She reasoned that it might have been the lights to a certain degree, but here, the lights were brighter and bolder. Neon signs and air pollution were the common denominators between the two cities.

He takes a corner just a little too hard, and she instinctively tightens her arms around his waist, tucking her head a little closer to his shoulder.

They end up taking a break for a minute, pulling off the side of the road to grab some vending machine drinks. Tea for her, coffee for him.

That’s when his watch begins to blare red. She fidgets with the ring on her hand, she didn’t need to wear it around he told her, but the cool diamond gem had grown on her. Just as a precaution if the case workers came around to check on their ‘marriage’, that was the explanation she gave to him for why she always had her ring on. They never talked about why he always kept his on too, despite interviews asking and continuously pestering him about the ring. The baseball world had just concluded it was either a secret wife or for the style since he never gave an answer.

“I think you have to go do your whole superman thing.” She pointed at his watch that he was trying to ignore.

Kenji groaned a little, calling for a ride so she could get back to his place. MINA had already gotten to them by the time the watch had started to blare.

“Ken, it is time to mitigate the primary conflict in Shinjuku.” MINA did a bow with their robot body. She tried to throw a pebble at MINA to test for reaction time, that being said MINA caught the rock. She shrugged.

Back at the dungeon, also known as the Ultrabase much to her distaste for a name like that, she was surprised to see an elderly man with a crutch sitting on the couch in the central living room.

He was watching a big hologram screen, which now clearly looked like Kenji (in Ultraman form) fighting with a pink monster dragon thing. When he got a particularly nasty body slam she sucked in some air through her teeth.

“Ahh, hello strange girl in the Ultraman base.” He circled her for a moment, his crutch slowing down his assessment of her.

“Ahh, hi strange grandpa in the Ultraman base.” She waved, and the older gentleman introduced himself as Professor Sato.

“Kenji’s dad?” She checked.

“Yes, I’m his father.” She nods, getting a glass of water.

When Kenji gets back to the base, that’s when things get a little crazy. What was once a slimy egg turned into a cute komodo dragon mutant baby. She was all over the baby in an instant, trying to get to know it better.

“She’s adorable. I love her.” She was tapping the glass of the containment cylinder, cooing at the infant Kaiju. The baby seemed to respond positively, making little coos back and stomping around a little.

Kenji just folded his arms and took it all in. He was still trying to get rid of his dad, despite his father’s willingness to help out. He just couldn’t balance it all without Hayao’s help, he realized. Especially when Emi needed more assistance, and help avoiding the KDF’s insistent attacks. She loved Emi, despite the Kaiju having the ability to totally crush her, Emi reciprocated quickly to her. Considering the contrast in how long it took for Kenji to demonstrate that his Ultaman form and his regular self were the same through systematic desensitization.

They became a family, even if a family consisted of a pro-baseball player, his fake wife/best friend, an estranged but loving father, a Kaiju baby, and a robot assistant.

A learning curve consisted of a lot more mistakes and complaining, but at the end of it all, Kenji had to commit. He was Ultraman now. He needed to protect Tokyo. At least now he had a support system he could rely on. Slowly, changes occurred with him. Putting others before himself, really truly thinking about life and the value of other human beings. The catalyst was a Kaiju baby named Emi, especially the way that said Kaiju baby loved openly.

The misadventures of raising Emi were wild and laced with KDF fights, but in the end, Kenji and his dad were brought together by defending Kaiju in a unique way. The monsters weren’t intentionally villains, humans had just made them out to be like that. That’s life though, people defining and categorizing things into concepts and schemas that made sense to them.

That’s what his dad was doing when he and Emiko separated. Hayao was trying to find ways to open human eyes to the world and beauty of Kaiju. Living in tandem with them may not have been immediately possible but why shouldn’t it be ever given a chance? Professor Sato, his dad, wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, he was trying his best to make the world a little bit better. Forgiving a father who he once believed left him wasn’t an easy road, but it was a path that needed to be traveled.

Saying goodbye to Emi was rough, yet, the Kaiju Island was close enough to go and visit on occasion. Baseball was great, winning the championship and going into a post-season diffusement.

Yet, Kaiju still came and wreaked havoc, and Kenji still had to fight and protect Japan. Even if that meant coming back to the base bloodied and bruised. She was almost always there, wrapping his arms in white bandages and wiping off blood with towels. Running ice baths and making cold soba noodles.

Which is what she was doing at this moment, rinsing the noodles in ice water and stirring a sweet sauce for Kenji to pour over rather than dunk his noodles into.

He was resting a frozen water bottle on his shoulder, hoping it would numb the pain, the Kaiju just had to try and rip his good arm off didn’t it?

“Hey, can I come in? Got your soba.” She knocked on the bathroom door using her elbow, since both hands were carrying bowls of soba with sauce containers precariously resting on her lower palms.

“Yeah, I’m wearing swim trunks.”

“Good because I’m not ready to see you naked, like, ever.” She chuckled, but pulled a chair next to the ceramic tub, breaking her chopsticks and saying a quick itadakimasu. He copied her, immediately drowning his noodles in the sauce she set on the edge of the tub. She rolled her eyes at his action.

He laughed a little, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, “What, it tastes better like this.”

She hummed an affirmative sound, but her eyes glinted with an agree to disagree conclusion.

The noodles had been fully digested, but she was still there, dipping her fingers into the water and making small swirls. The frigid temperature makes her fingers feel detached from her body.

Kenji lowers himself in the tub for a moment, getting his hair wet. When he came back up, she was pushing his bangs away from his face, smiling. Her hand stayed in his hair, brushing the strands away from his face as they dropped droplets down the back of his neck and then into the tub again. The ice cubes bumped into each other, melting slowly but steadily.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, uttering a few words, “Hot tub?”

She nods and heads out of the bathroom to get a swimsuit on.

The pool on the second to bottom floor of the base had an attached hot tub. He turned on the low lights, leaving the space in a warm brown shade of yellow light. The glass wall gave an outlook over the city and the ocean that surrounded the base.

MINA zoomed into the pool area, “Shall I put on some smooth jazz Ken?”

“No. Do not do that.” Kenji waved off MINA with red stinging his ears. MINA states they were just trying to speed up the whole process, and quoted one of her favorite phrases adding an addendum of MINA’s understanding and AI learning, “For the love of the process, especially if it's about love.”

The hot tub was warm, not quite boiling, but warm. She rested her arms on the outside ledge of the tub, looking out through the window. Kenji came to her side and replicated how she was positioned, before remembering that his shoulder hurt and gave out a small sound of displeasure. She giggled a little, rubbing the back of his shoulder where there weren't any distinct injuries.

“You’ve changed a lot since we were in high school.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head so that it was on her crossed arms.

“That’s what happens with time.” He wants to ask why she brought up his self-improvement. But she cuts him off before any words settle in his mouth.

“Yeah, but you’ve made a lot of great changes. You’re actually friends with your teammates now. And you’ve taken on this whole responsibility for an entire country. You aren’t just Kenji Sato, you’re also Ken Sato, and Ultraman, and I like to think you’ve fully embraced your father again, and not to mention our friendship.” She looks up at the ceiling, “You’re like an actual adult now.”

“I’ve been an adult for way longer than you.”

“But not like this, like an actual responsible person. You can juggle everything now.”

She sniffles a little, “Which is why I can understand if you don’t want me to stay once I finish my program you know?”

Kenji grabs a hold of one of her hands, “What the hell? Why would you ever think I’d want to kick you out?”

She shrugs.

He continues, “I hate to say it, but I think you’re stuck with me. You know too much about my dark secrets.” She smirks in response to his teasing tone.

Kenji dives deeper into things he wished he would’ve said earlier.

“I mean, you already have the ring to prove it too.” Her mouth gapes open a little, raising an eyebrow.

It would be amiss to say that this wouldn’t alter everything, but it was time.

“I know that we’ve only ever been friends, but you need to know what I feel.”

“I think I already know.” She cups the side of his face, and he pulls her into him, and makes her face him. She’s sitting on the expanse of his thighs, and he looks up at her from how he’s leaning back onto the wall of the hot tub.

Wrapping arms around his neck, careful to not rest too much of her arm on his shoulder, she brings their noses to brush against each other.

“Mine now? Right? You’re mine now?” When she doesn’t respond he continues, “Pretty please? Mine?”

“I thought you said you never begged?” She grazes his lips with her own and he sighs with a light shudder in his chest.

“I’ll beg for this, for you.”

“Fair enough.”

He tightens his grip and pulls her flush to him. Angling his neck up and tilting his head, he kisses her. She smiles too much for it to be a proper kiss, but he keeps pressing against her mouth. When she stops smiling and starts responding with her own pressure of lips to lips, he has to suppress the hunger to bite her.

His tongue brushes against her bottom lip and she opens her mouth for him, he runs his tongue along the inner lining of her mouth before biting on the tip of her tongue when she tries to take her turn. He chuckles when she pulls back a little, nose crinkled and lips wet.

“C’mere.” He trails kisses down the side of her face, going to her neck and collarbones, glad that her swimsuit was low cut enough for him to graze the top of her chest, where the rise of her curves began. She just presses kisses to the top of his head while her hand tangles into the hair at his nape, twisting the locks into fake curls.

When their fingers were wrinkled from the water in the hot tub, they showered and curled up on his bed, watching a meaningless show.

“So, my thoughts are that we can just skip the dating thing and go straight to marriage since legally we already are.”

“My mom will kill me.”

“Good thing she loves me, just say we eloped.” He wraps his good arm around her and pulls her down to lay on the pillows. She snuggles into the silk blend pillow cases and murmurs a little, tired from a long day. He caresses the side of her face and rests his hand on her hip.

MINA flits around the base, erasing specific footage from the recordings in the pool room, for everyone’s benefit.

Kenji paced back and forth in the base, waiting for her to get back from babysitting Chiho, hoping that Ami’s date would end shockingly early for his benefit.

He’s still on the phone with her, “I don’t want to wait to see you.” He kicks a throw pillow that had fallen on the ground from the couch.

“Have patience, I’ll be back around one AM.”

“This is spousal abuse.”

“It really isn’t”

MINA chimed in and agreed with her, so she exclaimed and said that even a robot knows the truth that Kenji was just a little clingy.

“I think you should stop watching other people’s babies and come take care of your family. And by family, I mean me.”

“I know what you meant.”

He looks to the clock, three more hours of waiting would be excruciating. But at least she’d be back in time for him to wish her an extremely early happy anniversary with the new ring he got.

[noaestheticacademic]

On the Identity of "Chat"

Like all the linguistics folks on Tumblr, I've been sent the "chat is a fourth person pronoun" post by a bunch of well-meaning people and and I've been thinking waaay too much about it. @hbmmaster made a wonderful post explaining exactly why "chat" ISN'T a fourth person pronoun, and after reading it I wanted to go a little deeper on what it might actually be doing linguistically, because it is a really interesting phenomenon. Here's a little proposal on what might be going on, with the caveat that it's not backed up by a sociolinguistic survey (which would be fun but more than I could throw together this morning).

On Pronouns

Studying linguistics has been really beneficial for me because understanding that language is constantly changing helped me to become comfortable with using they/them pronouns for myself. I've since done a decent amount of work with pronouns, and here are some basic ideas.

A basic substitution test shows that "chat" is not syntactically a pronoun: it can't be replaced with a pronoun in a sentence.

"Chat, what do we think about that?"

"He*, what do we think about that?" (* = ungrammatical, a native speaker of English would think it sounds wrong)

Linguists identify pronouns as bundles of features identifying the speaker, addressee, and/or someone outside the current discourse. So, a first person pronoun refers to the speaker, a second person pronoun refers to the addressee, and a third person pronoun refers to someone who is neither the speaker nor the addressee (but who is still known to the speaker and addressee). This configuration doesn't leave a lot of room for a "fourth" person. But the intuition people have that "chat" refers to something external to the discourse is worth exploring.

Hypothesis 1: Chat is a fourth-person pronoun.

We've knocked this one right out.

Hypothesis 2: Chat is an address term.

So what's an address term? These are words like "dude, bro, girl, sir" that we use to talk to people. In the original context where "chat" appears - streamers addressing their viewers - it is absolutely an address term. We can easily replace "chat" with any of these address terms in the example sentence above. It's clear that the speaker is referring to a specific group (viewers) who are observing and commenting on (but not fully participating in) the discourse of the stream. The distinction between OBSERVATION and PARTICIPATION is a secret tool that will come in handy later.

But when a student in a classroom says "wow chat, I hate this," is that student referring to their peers as a chat? In other words, is the student expecting any sort of participation or observation by the other students of their utterance? Could "chat" be replaced with "guys" in this instance and retain its nuance? My intuition as a zillenial (which could be way off, please drop your intuitions in the comments) is that the relationship between a streamer and chat is not exactly what the speaker in this case expects out of their peers. Which brings me to...

Hypothesis 3: chat is a stylistic index.

What's an index in linguistics? To put it very simply, it's anything that has acquired a social meaning based on the context in which it's said. In its original streaming context, it's an address term. But it can be used in contexts where there is not a chat, or even any group of people that could be abstracted into being a chat. Instead, people use this linguistic structure to explicitly mimic the style which streamers use.

And that much seems obvious, right? Of course people are mimicking streamers. It doesn't take a graduate degree to figure that out. What's interesting to me is why people choose to employ streaming language in certain scenarios. How is it different from the same sentence, minus the streamer style?

This all comes down to the indexicality, or social meaning, of streamer speak. This is where I ask you all to take over: what sorts of attitudes and qualities do you associate with that kind of person and that kind of speech? I think it has to do with (here it comes!) the PARTICIPANT/OBSERVER distinction. By framing speech as having observers, a speaker takes on the persona of someone who is observed - a self-styled celebrity. To use "chat" is to position oneself as a celebrity, and in some cases even to mock the notion of such a position. We can see a logical path from how streamers use "chat" as an address term to how it is co-opted to reference streamer culture and that celebrity/observer relationship in non-streaming mediated discourse. If we think about it that way, then it's easy to see why the "fourth person pronoun" post is so appealing. It highlights a discourse relationship that is being invoked wherein "chat" is not a group but a style.

[silkjade]

alhaitham x mermaid!reader

⤀ warnings: fem! reader, no pronouns mentioned a/n: another thing sitting in drafts that I was actually saving for Mermay ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼 next ﾉ series masterlist

He was out at a cove, a little ways off from port ormos, studying newly discovered runes carved along the sea cavern walls. Your song was supposed to lure him to his watery grave, but….

“These earpieces are soundproof.” You’re caught by surprise when he responds in your language. His pronunciation is a little off, but to be fair, merfolk are an ancient race and haven’t been sighted in a very long time. As such, whatever linguistic knowledge that’s been preserved up until now is… distorted at best.

The two of you strike up a deal: you help him perfect the language of your people, and he’ll introduce you to the wonders of the world above. A fair exchange. You agree to meet at this same cove on nights of the full moon, although the interval between these meetings grow increasingly shorter, so much so that you find yourself visiting this human once a week. He’d always arrive just as the sun sets, skipping a chunk of crystal ore out into the sea, indicating his arrival.

“And what did you bring for me today?”

“These are called zaytun peaches.”

“Ooh they’re sweet! And jucier than bubble berries…”

“I wasn’t aware fruits could grow underwater.”

Alhaitham is a scholar with an eager mind, so when things peak his interest, it’s second nature to want to satiate his curiosities. He asks his questions, but never pushes you to answer. With time, you grow comfortable enough around him to openly divulge your life beneath the waves, and it becomes a wonderful exchange of language and culture.

“Would you like to come underwater?”

“I know you didn't like the harra fruit today, but I thought you'd given up trying to drown me. Soundproof earpieces remember?” he says, tapping said headphones.

You roll your eyes, pulling yourself further up out of the water, until your faces are only mere inches apart. That's not what you meant at all.

"They say a mermaid's kiss will give you the ability to breathe underwater...let me show you my world." Your voice, hypnotizingly low and sultry, immediately send alarms ringing in his head. Your fingers brush against his cheek, your touch feather light as you whisper into his naked ear, "Do you trust me?"

In the time Alhaitham had spent with you, he had never forgotten about the dangers of a mermaid's seduction. But at this proximity, with you so close and your voice so enchanting... he feels his head spin, like he's in some sort of trance where it's nigh impossible to deny you anything. As if by instinct, Alhaitham subconsciously reaches for the headphones hanging around his neck— his safety net, his life raft.

You pull away, sinking back into the waters. So he doesn't trust you. It's no surprise due to the nature of your very being, and to hope otherwise would be foolish. Still, its difficult to hide the irritation and hurt that laces your words before you bid him an awkward farewell.

Once you disappear into the sea, Alhaitham lets out a groan, burying his face in his hands. Next time you meet, if you decide to return at all, he'll remember to teach you about the intricacies of human courtship rituals.

a/n2: alhaitham is allergic to rizz ;\ this was supposed to be just a short brainrot but i had so many thoughts about this (and still have more unwritten) anyways i love mermay what a great month to be online, so much pretty art

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[victoria-writes]

Elvish For Dummies

Pairing: Legolas x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Set after the events of LoTR. You live with Legolas in Mirkwood and he teaches you Elvish. Pure fluff.

Word Count: 1039

Notes: Established relationship, reader is human, tried to make the sindarin elvish as accurate as possible so apologies for any mistakes, I’m multilingual so I based this off of my own experience with learning languages 

Read it on AO3 here

Story:

Despite the fellowship having disbanded, each day with Legolas seemed like another adventure. During your perilous journey together, the two of you had grown closer than either of you thought possible. The mere thought of being apart from you pulled at his heartstrings. He could not bear the thought of being separated from his new love. After the one ring was destroyed, the elf invited you to come with him to Mirkwood. Hastily, you agreed, for you too could not wait to start a new life with the elven prince. 

Since reaching Mirkwood, many seasons have passed and you two grow closer by the day. Under his guidance, your archery skills and ability to speak Elvish have improved. He took it upon himself to privately tutor you in the tongue of his people. Legolas still giggles when you fumble certain words on your tongue, but is quick to apologize, never wanting to discourage you. He says you have made remarkable progress and that you possess great linguistic potential. Whether that is true or he is exaggerating with sugar coated words, you cannot tell but it feels good to hear his encouragement either way. 

Most of your days together included walks through the woods and riding horseback, but today was a gloomy rainy day. A day that, Legolas decided, would be a wonderful excuse to help you get back to your studies. It’s not that you did not enjoy Elvish. Oh no! You quite liked hearing him whisper loving words to you as he held your gaze. 

“Meleth nîn, Im tur feel cín emel dring dan sab - My love, I can feel your heartbeat against mine”, he would say as he held you in his arms, his breath dancing upon your skin with each syllable. 

Saying you enjoyed that would be the understatement of the century. Everything in Sindarin sounded like poetry. Even the most mundane sentences were said with purpose and flowered language. Unfortunately for you, that also meant the most basic phrases you had to learn weren’t your typical ones. Instead of “I went to the store”, you had to say “I depart to look for food - Im gwann- na thír an aes”. It seems that most Elvish children learn how to say things like “I can feel it in the earth - Im tur- feel ha in i coe” before they learn “please” and “thank you”. No wonder they all sound prophetic when they speak common. Creepy oracle sounding sentence structure as your first language combined with being thousands of years old will do that. 

“Meleth nîn, you’re drifting off. Shall we return to our lesson or is a break needed?”, Legolas' words break you out of your trance. You look up from your desk, covered in notes, to see him towering above you, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. 

“Apologies, I was merely pondering the linguistic differences between Sindarin and Quenya Elvish”, you quickly come up with the excuse to hide the fact that you were simply not paying attention. 

“Is that so?”, 

“Yes, yes, the distinction between Elvish languages is very interesting to me”.

“This is the third time this lesson you’ve been distracted by those differences”.

“Ah, well…”, you trail off, caught red-handed. 

“Y/N, I will not force you to learn Sindarin if you do not wish it”.

“No, no, no, I want to learn. I promise. It’s all just new to me and takes a moment to sink in. Please, repeat what you said. I’m paying attention”.

Legolas smiles but does not repeat himself. Instead, he moves on to an exercise he is sure will get your attention. 

“We shall review what I have taught you thus far.” 

…

“ Very good, Y/N. Now how would you say ‘the stars shine white’?”

“ I elena mír thilivern” 

“The grass is green?”

“I thár na- calen”        

“Very good pronunciation. You have done well. I believe it is time to learn some new vocabulary”.

You take out a new sheet of paper from your stack, ready to write. 

“You need not write for this portion. Repeat after me.” 

“Okay”. You put your quill down. 

“Meleth nîn.”

“Meleth nîn. I know what that means already. You say it all the time”.

“And what does it mean?”

“My love”, your lips turn upward in a shy smile.  

“Very good. Let us move on then”, he smiles brightly, as if pleasantly surprised despite knowingly fully well that you knew its meaning. 

“I’m ready. Hit me.” 

He suddenly sits down next to you and takes your hands into his own.

“Im mel cin”  

“Im mel cin”  

“Do you know its meaning?”   

“No, should I? I’m sorry.”, your eyes widen as you try to recall whether he had said it before in a previous lesson. 

Legolas throws his head back with laughter. This may be the hardest you’ve ever seen him laugh before… and it’s at you. Great. 

“Apologies. Apologies.”, he manages to get out between giggles, “The look on your face was priceless.” Your face sours at this and Legolas manages to resist a second burst of laughter from it. He thinks you equal parts hilarious and adorable. 

“You would not have known this phrase as I have never spoken it to you before. I do think it is high time for you to learn it”.

“Okay, so what does it mean?”, you scrunch your eyebrows together, ego still a little hurt from being laughed at. 

His grip on your hands tighten but his touch stays gentle as ever. He has always been gentle with you. His gaze holds the same softness. No, even deeper.  The blue of his eyes seem more vibrant and invite you in to look deeper within him. His eyes tell of a love that can never be truly explained in any language. Legolas has always had a staring problem when it comes to you, but this is something different entirely. Your cheeks redden at his seriousness.

“I love you”.

Your eyes widen once more and before you can react, he kisses you. Deeply. Passionately. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” he repeats again and again into your lips. 

…

Maybe learning a new language isn’t so bad, if you have the right teacher.

[dr3amfyr-e]

modern!jace thoughts ( wc. 600-ish )

i have a jace parasite living in my brain <3 i’m cooking up a part two ( i cooked it up )

jacaerys who studies literature and linguistics at university — on the pre-law track. he’s such a diligent student, a frequenter of libraries and study rooms. ( but he doesn’t really have to try that hard, it comes easy, it’s aggravating )

he lives in the nicest dorm on campus, probably private housing.

jacaerys who wears glasses :3 but only when he must, makes an effort to put contacts in every day. but some days are just glasses days. ( they’re the sliver squoval wire framed ones )

jacaerys who prioritizes hygiene, he’s so clean. (i’m a jon girl at heart, i can acknowledge that he is not squeaky clean. jace is squeaky clean) jace has a skincare routine and a haircare routine. he’s using olaplex and cerave and that super expensive moisturizer. he knows how to defuse and gel cast his curls, he’ll happily do yours too! i firmly believe he uses an electric toothbrush AND HE TAKES CARE OF HIS NAILS

jacaerys who attended a private school until university, and started playing competitive football ( ⚽️ ) at age 10. he plays in college too, but he’s not as serious about it.

lucerys attends the same private school and plays for the same team, so jace practices with him ( it usually ends with a physical altercation, think the sword fight scene ‘what. was. THAT?’ )

jacaerys who likes animals, and LOVES his dog. vermax lives at home while he is off at school, but when jace gets a place of his own the dog will come with. he walks him every morning and evening and takes him for runs most days over the summer. vermax sleeps in jace’s bed, and he takes up a good portion.

jacaerys who is SO oldest daughter coded. he’s driving his siblings around. taking joffrey to pediatrician appointments and picking him up from school. going to all of luke’s football games and rhaena’s violin concerts.

chronic over achiever, he has to be his mothers favorite daughter- what, who said that?

mama’s boy jacaerys who looks up to her more than anyone. he’s bragging her up to anyone who will listen: in his gender and women’s studies class like, “my mom is a ceo! 🙋” “my mom is married to a woman! 🙋”

he would defend his mother’s name with his life. he’s getting into fist fights at social events, ryan atwood style. ( no he’s not, but he really wants to )

jacaerys who can be mean. he doesn’t mean to be, he doesn’t want to be — he hates it. but the world he grew up in was exclusive, and cliquey, and competitive.

he’s good at controlling it, thinking before he speaks. because he’s not a mean person. he’s good, and kind, and gentle. but, it comes to the surface when he goes into defense mode.

he made luke cry once, and started journaling to channel his emotions.

english/history person jacaerys. he’s hopeless at helping his brothers with their math homework.

when his mother married his late grandfather’s former wife he started reading lesbian theory to cope. and he liked it! he borrows baela’s feminist theory books, they bookclub.

jacaerys who, unfortunately, does participate in performative reading. omg nooo don’t come talk to me while i’m reading didion and wearing pearls and mewing 🧏

jacaerys who has a really expensive digital camera and also a really expensive film camera. he likes to post his pictures on his instagram ( no one cares )

all of his social media accounts are private because he doesn’t want to be the internet’s next eligible bachelor.

jacaerys who cries when he’s frustrated.

jacaerys who tolerates his step-brothers, but not very well or with much enjoyment. he has way more in common with alicent than he’d like to admit ( quintessential horrifying step-child experience of being mistaken for your step-parents biological child ) he likes helaena, though! they’re kind of bestie

he separates puzzle pieces by colour for her and looks at all of her art and knows all of her favorite bugs. ( he’s always wanted a sister )

jacaerys who is a fantastic boyfriend ( i’ll get into this later ) (( i got into this ))

[atimeofyourlife]

A group thing?

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: no upside down au | rated: t | wc: 944 | tags: no upside down au, pre-steddie, steve x corroded coffin Steve gets a job in a record store in Chicago, and a familiar group of guys come in looking for a place for their band to play. Who knows where it could go

Getting out of Hawkins was the best thing that had ever happened to Steve. The plan had been cemented between him and Robin when they started working at Family Video after the freak fire at Starcourt, the result of an electrical fault caused by the cut corners and corrupt construction. They were both going to work as many hours as possible at Family Video, so they could save up ready to move away after Robin graduated high school, with Steve planning to follow her to wherever she went to college.

The plan led them to Chicago, with Robin getting accepted to study linguistics at the University of Chicago. They found a small, relatively affordable two bed apartment, and did everything they could to make it theirs. While Robin worked on her degree, Steve found work at an independent record store. Even though it was still retail, he found it much better than working at Family Video and Scoops Ahoy had been. There was no uniform, the manager was pretty chill, and employees could choose anything from stock to play over the store's sound system. Steve did tend to play a lot of Queen when it was his turn to pick, but he was learning a lot about other genres from his coworkers' tastes in music.

But Steve's favorite part of the job was the live music. There was a small stage area that local bands could book and come in and play for free, in a chance to get more experience playing. Some of them weren't the best, but some of them were amazing. It was something that made it feel less like work. Some bands were pretty regular, and Steve was starting to form a real friendship with some of them.

"Hi, how can I help?" Steve asked as he came back to the counter from the stock room where he'd been processing a delivery with his coworker. There were a group of guys all waiting around, so he assumed that they were a band wanting to get a play spot. There was something familiar about them, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"Er, hi. We've just moved to the area, and a buddy of ours told us you let bands play here for free." The guy at the front with long hair said, seeming to be the leader.

"Yeah, we do that. Just give me a moment." Steve ducked down to grab the folder from under the counter. "So the boss is the one who makes the final decisions on all the bands, so I'll just need to take your details, and she'll call you back to arrange everything. And I can give you the information sheet with everything you need to know."

The band took the sheet, and murmured a little amongst themselves.

"Okay, so if I can start with the band name?" Steve asked, pulling out a sign up sheet.

"Corroded Coffin." One of them replied.

Steve wrote it down, and tried to make conversation as he did. "You said you guys just moved here? Where'd you come from?"

"This shitty, small town in Indiana. You've probably never heard of it."

"Uh huh. And a phone number we can contact you on?"

The number got rattled off for Steve to note down.

"That sounds a lot like where I'm from. You wouldn't be from Hawkins, would you?"

"Yeah, we are."

"I thought you guys seemed familiar. We probably went to high school together." Steve said. "And your names?"

Each said their names as Steve wrote them down. The last one, who had seemed to be the leader, "Eddie Munson."

Steve looked down at the sheet, before looking up at Eddie. "You used to sell, right? At a picnic bench in the woods behind the school."

"You used to buy? Then do we get your name, big boy." Eddie asked, leaning on the counter.

"Steve. Harrington." Steve replied, watching hesitantly as they all seemed surprised.

"King Steve, what brings you to working in a place like this?"

"Trying to make rent. My parents cut me off after I graduated, and I'm pretty sure it would be a total disownment if they knew half the shit I got up to now. So me and my best friend moved up here after she graduated. She's in college and I'm making sure we can afford our shitty two bedroom apartment."

"Now I want to know what you get up to." One of the others said, Steve was pretty sure he'd said his name was Gareth.

"Let's just say I know what the bandanna in Munson's back pocket stands for." Steve winked as he said it, and couldn't help laughing as they all spluttered slightly. "I've got all the information I need, and I'll make sure to put in a good word with the boss for you."

Steve was working when Corroded Coffin were playing at the store for the first time. He was on hand to help them get set up and make sure everything went smoothly.

"I think that's everything, you guys can start playing when you're ready, and I'll let you know when your time is nearly up. Do you need anything else?"

"How about a kiss for good luck?" Eddie asked.

Steve smiled before pulling Eddie in by the shirt and kissing him deeply.

"Hey, what about the rest of us?" Gareth called from behind his drum kit.

Steve just shrugged, before going around and kissing each of them softly on the lips.

He made his way back behind the counter, looking forward to what could come between him and the band. Friendship, or maybe even something more.

[sugruzt]

❝ message in a bottle ; 마크이

𖥻 pairing: college!mark lee x female reader

𖥻 contains: college!au, fluff, slight angst, second chance romance

𖥻 warnings: swearing, marijuana & alcohol consumption / english is not my first language and this is my first work ever on tumblr so i am sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspellings

word count — 4.06k

synopsis — you and mark were in a situationship for a few months before things ended poorly when you got too scared of your feelings and he had to leave the country for an exchange program in london. now, six months later, you were at a party with your friends and discovered mark was back in town.

🎀

AND just like that, your whole world stopped spinning for a long and torturous minute. in the blink of an eye, you went from being over-the-moon excited — and slightly intoxicated — with the idea of partying with your friends during the first summer night before heading to your hometown in the next couple of days to being paralyzed, feeling all your blood get drained far away from where it should be in your body. in the blink of an eye, you went from being a happy girl with the arrival of the last member of your friend group to someone terrified with the sight of a ghost from the past. a quick glance, unintended by all means, in mark’s direction was all it took for the memories from that previous year to come flooding back to hit you like a lost train.

“hey, princess,” he said. his cheeks burning in a shade of shameful red, but something stronger than him was preventing his stare from going anywhere else other than your eyes. there was a blunt hanging between his teeth. “how you doing?”

“that’s it, guys; i’m done with this. i’m just gonna change my major or something like that! everything’s going terribly wrong, and i can’t keep torturing myself by studying this shit.”

you dropped your head and rested your forehead on your arm that lay on top of the desk in front of you right as the confession slipped from your lips like a dangerous poison that you should not have taken. it was the first time you’d ever said it out loud to someone else to hear — other than the mischievous voice inside your head — how you truly felt about the english major you were pursuing. the fear of judgment and of being too hasty about this decision was corroding every last bit of your emotional health, and because of it, you could sense that a storm was coming. what if you did change majors and ended up not adapting? how would you find a job, or better yet: how would you support living all by yourself if you couldn’t even pick an undergraduate academic path? time was running out, and the unbearable clock inside your mind wouldn’t give you a break. the tick-tacking of the goddamn thing was going to drive you to insanity at any point soon.

“hey, chill for once, okay? it’s normal to feel like that and to want something new. hell, i know i had to change my major twice before finding out what i actually wanted to do. jae did the same thing. you’re not alone.” jeno offered you a small yet reassuring smile of someone who didn’t quite know what to say but still wanted to see his friend more relaxed.

“exactly! take a deep breath and think things through with an easy heart. if you need help, we’re here to help

you." swallowing the last bite of the sandwich he had bought earlier, renjun tapped the notebook in front of him. “how’s that linguistics project going?”

as you raised your head, you shook your head in a negative sign. “i mean, it’s good. too good, actually… and that’s sort of the problem. like, the dude i’m working with is super sweet and really fucking good at this class and so he’s kind of doing the whole thing by himself and dragging me along with him ever since we started. i feel terrible, even if he says it’s all good and stuff, but it is what it is, i guess.”

before either of the guys could express any opinion about what was just said, a guy with freshly cut black hair — it was even possible to see the drawing of a spiderweb on the left side of his undercut —, earphones in and a large yankees shirt approached the desk, more specifically you, and offered you a genuine smile that wasn’t common to see between two colleagues who were only working on a school project together. the unknown man squatted so he could be at your height and unlocked his ipad’s screen to the word document the two of you were using to write notes together, or at least that was the initial idea because the reality was that mark was doing all of it alone, proudly.

“oh, hi, y/n, you good? just wanted to ask you a quick question… have you taken a look at this topic right here? i know we’re only supposed to work on it in two weeks but i was wondering if maybe you’ve come up with the same conclusion as me.”

feeling a thousand times more embarrassed than if a professor asked you to present a thirty-minute seminar alone in front of the whole class, you felt the tip of your fingers getting cold and a thin droplet of sweat rolling down your temple. “uhm, hey, mark. yeah, about that… look, i didn’t really have a chance to look at that yet, i’m sorry. i can barely manage this week’s assignments, let alone two weeks from now. i- i’ll text you when i read it, okay?”

you didn’t know it at the time — or if you did, you had an enviable ability of discretion — but every single time mark heard his name escape from your heavenly drawn lips, his heart would skip a beat or two and he felt like he was about to combust at any second. it was the first time in his whole life that he had ever felt that way about someone and dealing with feelings of that magnitude was both weird and extraordinary, which meant that the ravenette wasn’t completely aware of how to process them. mark’s solution for his overwhelming thoughts whenever you were around was to take charge of everything he could in that project, to make you feel relaxed about that one particular class. the canadian was terrible at linguistics, for his skills were much more reliable during literature classes: he could interpret and internalize poetry from the eighteenth century like it was nothing, and plays written in latin during the roman empire were of natural understanding for him; and yet, ever since the first day of that semester in which it was requested that both of you joined efforts to build the complicated assignment, it was impossible for mark to not pull all-nighters reading texts and more texts, watching one video class after another that broke down the subject of that class just so he could give his absolute best when the time came to work alongside you and you didn’t find him an idiot, as most people in that university usually did after meeting him for the first time.

mark just wanted to impress you and the last thing he could be worried about was doing all that alone, as long as it meant that he could still have the minimum interaction with you.

“yeah, sure, that’s cool. if you need anything let me know, alright?”

you were still in a state of complete shock. no words would come out of your mouth, making it impossible to answer properly the question directed at you by the boy that a year before was the reason for many sleepless nights and therapy sessions, through no fault of his, which was even worse, because mark was perfect and you hated yourself for how everything ended.

a cold breeze, too cold for a summer night, hit the both of you with enough strength to make you shiver and it was only then that you realized that none of your friends were around anymore. you were alone again with mark for what had felt like a lifetime since he left the country for an exchange program in london and with enough unspoken words to make the whole situation a million times more uncomfortable than it needed to be. what were you supposed to say right now? “oh, hi, mark, long time no see! listen, i’m really sorry for being horrible to you last year, i’ve spent the last six months torturing myself because i only woke up to the fact that i had let the perfect guy for me get away too late to try and fix everything”? you ran your fingers through your hair, knowing that there were no words of your knowledge that could make it easier, that could put together again the pieces of what had once been something magical that the two of them were building.

you couldn’t care less about all those times your therapist tried to be kinder to your heart than you had ever been, or how your friends always tried to distract your mind from the constant haunt of self-collection and, to be honest, didn’t really mind that yes, after all the effort and studying, you had managed to change your major to something you actually enjoyed if the price for it was to drop the perfect crystal piece that was mark’s precious heart. there were no words that could take that back, and going against every piece of advice that was given to you, you had imagined more times than you’d like to admit how this encounter would play out: what you would do, what you would say or not say, how it’d feel… but none of those scenarios inside your mind was anywhere near to the real sensation of being in front of him again.

mark looked taller — or maybe it was just the feeling of missing him crushing your soul and clouding your judgment —, the slim body now gave way to the body of a man who went to the gym and tried to truly take care of his health, his hair that previously used to be as dark as the t-shirts he used to enjoy wearing was now covered in a shade of red so bright that it reminded you of his favorite superhero’s suit. even still, the one thing that caught your attention the most were his eyes. before mark left, before the whole chaos, they were always big and full of life, like those of a curious cub and you could always feel a cozy warmth travel across your body when mark looked at you with such brightness; however, it seemed that ever since the canadian got back in town, they were opaque, closed off to the outer world as if his eyes were now carrying some kind of intense melancholy behind them. the familiar redness in his sclerae, months ago, used to always be accompanied by an excited and smiling version of mark lee, but that night the only thing apparent to you was that lee was holding on to weed like some kind of way to numb the break-up pain.

the redhead had lived a thousand different lives during his exchange: saw and learned things that he knew he would never have achieved if he hadn't accepted the opportunity to go to england and yet, his mind couldn’t recall any of those experiences with the genuine happiness he should’ve felt like any other normal and grateful person would if they were on his shoes; to mark, ever since you left him all alone, he had turned into nothing but an empty shell of what should’ve been the real mark lee. what were his experiences, his learnings, his funny stories if, at any moment, he was allowed to at least call the person he loved and share all of that with her?

“yeah, i guess i’m okay.” you answered, holding back a cry that was stuck in your throat before looking away. “you?”

a shiver went down the english student as he waited for his project partner to arrive at the coffee shop you two had agreed to meet at to finish for good the agonizing linguistics document. it didn’t even seem real that you were finally concluding the most stressful and endless project of your university career until that moment and despite the sweet taste of reaching the finish line, mark had on his lips a bitter one, because he knew that the very instant you pressed “send” on the body of that e-mail to your professor, all of his excuses to talk to you would come to an end. it was only the beginning of november, you should spend at least a few more weeks studying together if said professor were to follow a normal academic calendar like the rest of his fellow colleagues of the department.

mark would only have one last chance of making this work out and that chance was right there and then. anxiety and fear were destroying the boy with more strength than he himself was biting through his nails waiting for you to arrive.

“gosh, mark, i’m so sorry!” you said in a panting tone when you finally managed to get to the coffee shop and met the guy that, by that point, had already become your friend. “the bus took forever to get to the stop i needed and then the subway was also chaotic… anyways, i’m sorry that i’m late.”

the both of you stayed a long time in that coffee shop, not only finishing the assignment but also laughing together and watching a few episodes of modern family on his computer as a way to relax after all the constant flow of negative emotions the both of you were facing during that semester due to not only that particular class but also all the other ones with their enormous reading load. by the time you had indeed finished what you were supposed to do, you were feeling so comfortable in mark’s presence that you didn’t even notice when you heart started to race faster and faster before the mundane things the lee did: the way he smiled from ear to ear, or how kind he was to everyone around him. you were starting to fall in love with how mark explained all the different concepts he used to build his arguments across the paper like someone would explain the most basic things to a child, and you thought it was sweet the way he would say “dude” and “no way” every couple of sentences that fell from his lips. but, above all, unconsciously, the way mark seemed to glow every time he looked at you was ethereal to your eyes.

as soon as you sent the hated file, it started to rain on the outside of the coffee shop, but contrary to the ideal scenario, you couldn’t stay in there just waiting until the climate conditions became more favorable because the two of you had places to be at, on opposite directions. there would be no other alternative but to run to the nearest subway station, or in the brunette’s case, the bus stop.

mark immediately took off his hoodie to shield you as best as he could from the rain, in exchange for you protecting his backpack that contained his computer as if your life depended on it, the moment you two stepped outside the establishment and something of a thunderstorm was taking over the avenue. mark couldn’t help it and ended up laughing at the situation you two had found yourselves in, thinking about how he wished he was a little less broke and had a car to take the girl of his dreams back to her place without having to worry about the rain, or how he wished he was stronger to pick you up and carry you to the subway station and, with that, spare your shoes from coming in contact with the soaked surface of the sidewalk. before you could notice, you were right in front of the stairs that led to the station.

“bye, i think.” you said, giggling along with him while you tried to fix your hair that, despite mark’s hoodie’s protection, still got wet from the rain.

the lee was going to answer you like a decent and proper person, he really was, but in that very moment, a raindrop fell from the marquee above you and somehow managed to hit you right on the forehead, which made you close your eyes, but mark kept his wide open. with an automatic reaction of his body, almost like an involuntary movement that he was incapable of controlling — such as the beats of his accelerated heart — his left hand traveled to your neck while his right thumb was busy drying the solitary raindrop slowly, to give his mind time to analyze every little inch of your face so close to his. mark tried to respond with words to your farewell, but his impulse to kiss you was far stronger than any cohesive phrase that his brain could formulate in that moment.

the literature student, now in his final semester, nodded as he bit his lower lip and those opaque eyes fell to the floor beneath his feet after stepping on the remaining of his blunt. mark didn’t even know why he started that conversation in the first place, it was obvious that it was impossible for him to stand close to you without it affecting some part of him — whether for good or for bad — and even still, there he was, not managing to say a single word to you, nor being able to get closer, just feeding that giant gray and terrifying cloud that grew over both of your heads due to the impasse of what this was and what it should have been.

unlike his mind, that was only able to repeat tirelessly the day he finally built the confidence to kiss you, yours was in a hurricane of terrible memories that involved the brief, yet intense, relationship you two shared — or whatever the hell one could call it. how was it even possible that something that lasted only four months could leave such deep scars?

if mark was trying to hold back a smile remembering how it felt to have your lips on top of his, you were only torturing yourself with the replayed image of mark being crushed in front of you, by no fault other than your own. it was your fault that fear was allowed to consume every single good thing that the lee had ever given you; it was your fault that you’d thought that whole thing was a sick and sadistic joke from the universe and that, in reality, there was no way someone like him could've ever fallen in love with you. in the deepest, darkest, cruelest part of your soul, you were convinced that everything was your fault and not your mind trying to destroy you before something so pure and happy.

you were a sinking ship, navigating towards a port with not a single sight of a lighthouse’s spark to help you, not knowing how to reach the treasure that awaited your arrival because other people had already destroyed the lighthouse. the ability to grope around, trying to find yourself in the darkness you’d placed yourself, was stripped away from you the second you gave in to the bruises that were caused by third parties, and mark knew it wasn't your fault, although it was still difficult to try and be the guide to someone that wouldn't allow them to have access to the heat and light from the fire he tried to offer.

without even realizing it, the silenced cry stuck in your throat for months on end started to escape, not giving you any power to control it. you felt anger, sadness, frustration and you were missing mark… all at the very same time, in an endless swirl triggered by the mere vision of having mark back into your reality.

just like the first time you kissed, the unconscious answer of mark lee’s body to the sound of you crying after such a long time being away from you was to wrap his arms around your body without allowing himself to give too much thought to the action that just took place. if it was even possible, noticing you needing him in any way, shape or form was a true calling for him and it didn't matter how much time could've gone by, the lee couldn't ignore it. to love you and protect you was just as natural as breathing.

between the supplications for your tears to stop and hair strokes, mark then began to feel something that he thought was dead coming back to life inside the hollow box that was his chest. for months now, the redhead just knew that his heart was no longer there. instead, it must've been put inside a bottle and thrown away into the ocean that separated his emotions from his rational mind, as if he wasn't even the owner of his own feelings.

“please, princess, don't cry. i’m begging you.”

the cruelty of your mind wouldn't give you a break for not even a single second ever since the last time you've heart mark’s melodious voice so close to your ear, and the fact that it carried the same heavy tone of request didn't help with your genuine desire to stop your sobbings as your face was pressed against his chest. in that moment, the last thing on your mind were the looks that other people could be directing at the two of you; you could only see the desperation all over the face of the only man you've ever truly loved. he was in such pain that day — the day you told him you didn't want to see him anymore. soon, though, that image was replaced with the memory of the gut-wrenching feeling of chronic emptiness that filled your chest the following week and you came to your senses that you had make a mistake, but that it was also too late: mark was in another country, it was far too late to ask for forgiveness.

“i know you probably hate me right now. i shouldn't have done that, i shouldn't have said that, i was such an idiot, stupid… i'm sorry, mark, i don't know what was going on in my mind to treat like that, i-”

that sobbing wouldn't allow you to form coherent sentences properly and the way you were crying so helplessly was becoming melancholic instead of just sad to the man holding you. if only mark could get into your merciless head just how he would never be able to hate you, not in a million years, not when there was so much love, desire and adoration intrinsic to the image he had of you, then maybe that big gray cloud would disappear forever and the two of you could just live like he hoped for. all mark wanted was to have the privilege of loving you again.

“y/n, look at me” mark held the red and tear wet face of his beloved girl with kindness while his tone of voice was filled with all the firmness the moment could ask for. “for christ’s sake, y/n, i love you. i could never hate you. dude, really, for once just keep your head out of this and focus on what i’m telling you right now. i love you and this whole time i was thinking of you. only you.”

even if he knew you wouldn't answer anything for a few seconds, or maybe even minutes, mark just allowed a sweet smile to appear on his lips while he delighted himself with the feeling of being allowed to hold your face once again, to stroke your cheeks and to place small, delicate kisses all over your beautiful face — which he knew would force your breathing to slow down, giving you the chance to calm down again. the canadian was smelling like the combination of weed and beer, but somehow, your body knew how to identify the familiar and characteristic smell of his cologne; the same smell your searched for and ached for during the coldest nights, when missing him was too overwhelming it almost felt like a hole was being digged up in your chest. that familiarity was the reason for the shy smile that took over your lips, that opened a breach for light and happiness after all those tears while mark traced your lips with his thumb, admiring you like you were some kind of artwork created just for him.

“i was made to stay just like this with you, princess. and i’m not leaving this time.”

[max1461]

I don't typically feel at home with "nerds" (in the sense of "programmer type guys"), because I feel there is something important about the world that very often they cannot see, and I am going to try to articulate what it is.

First, a digression.

My extended family is... well, most of them are not really evangelicals (insofar as they're Christian at all, they're not very good Christians and they mostly don't seem to care), but culturally they're part of the vulgar evangelical milieu; the sort of people to whom prosperity gospel megachurch pastors appeal. Years ago when I was about to start college, my uncle came to visit, and I told my him that I was going to study math. He's a smart guy, and started telling me about how he was always good at math in school, and telling me stories about the various times he'd used math (meaning, basically, elementary algebra) to great effect in his various business ventures. That's what he understands: business, making money... to put it less charitably (though I say this with considerable affection): scheming. So he tried to speak the language of making money to me about it. When he asked me what I wanted to do with my math degree (by implication: what sort of scheming was I looking to get involved in) I said something to the effect of "there are all kinds of job opportunities you have with a math degree, but that's not really why I'm studying it—I really just want to understand math at a deeper level". I remember the look on his face when I said that very clearly. It was utter bafflement. Not because he hated math or something, but because I genuinely don't think the concept of "wanting to understand something at a deeper level for its own sake" had ever occurred to him. The inherent appeal of understanding the world is, I think, not something which exists (or exists very strongly) in his emotional landscape. He is blind to that part of the human experience which drives scientists to be scientists.

Well, that's alright. He's a schemer and not a scientist by nature. Some people are that way. I like my uncle well enough, and I enjoyed talking to him on that visit. But he's not someone I would try to share my love of math or linguistics with; on both accounts I don't think there is anything I could say to make him get it.

Why do I bring all this up? Well, one way in which I relate to programmer type guys is that we both like math, and I think we like for basically the same reason. And I think most programmer type guys will have met someone like my uncle, someone who seems like they fundamentally cannot see the appeal in this thing which drives you so strongly, this thing which is so great a part of your emotional landscape. I'm sure a lot of you will know the exact feeling I had during the above interaction. You are so fascinated by these questions about how the world works, and how it can be rationally understood, and this other guy basically seems like he just... can't even comprehend what it's like to be motivated by that. It's so completely foreign to him, and his perspective is thus completely foreign to you.

We are all, sometimes, this uncle.

Part of why I am interested in linguistics is because I have this deep urge to explore the world (by this I mean principally: the human world). I have this desire to travel, to talk to people, to see and experience different places and different ways of doing things. I want to go to various places and see what they look like, and meet the people there and hear what they have to say, and so on and so forth. There is an "openness to experience" element to this, but that is very insufficient to characterize the thing I am trying to articulate; for instance, I have little interest in psychedelics or other prototypical "high openness to experience" type activities. To me, there is an ineffable vibe that every place seems to have (a "place" in this sense could be as large as a country or a small as a particular bar), and the vibes of nested places are like layers on top of one another that make being in the world feel like an extremely rich experience. Learning languages and learning about languages gives me this window into other places, which is extremely appealing, and furthermore I can access it to some degree from my own home, which is nice. Of course doing this from my bedroom is not enough, I want to actually go, to wander around, and in those times when I've gotten the chance to do so I have felt that it was very much everything I had imagined it to be.

When I try to talk to programmer type nerds about this aspect of myself, I often feel much the same as when I was trying to talk to my uncle about wanting to study math. They just don't seem to have any sort of reference for what I'm talking about, these emotions have never occurred to them in any significant way, and they can't figure out how to relate. I believe this is, in essence, the source of my frequent abrasions with rattumb, and why I have basically bounced off of coding for cultural reasons time and time again in my life, even though conceptually it's exactly the sort of thing that interests me. For reasons of nature or nurture, programmer guy personality traits rarely co-occur with wanderluster personality traits, they just don't seem to go together. And so in spaces like, well, this one, I'm just left feeling like nobody can quite relate to what I am getting at a good chunk of the time, and the consequence of this is that I feel emotionally impoverished. That's not anybody's fault for being a different sort of guy than me, and I'm sure there's stuff about which I'm the confused uncle (in fact, I know there is: the appeal of psychedelics, meditation, and other "transcendence" based activities is one of these things for me). Idk, just thought that was something worth expressing.

[formosusiniquis]

Am I the Asshole?

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s); Steve Harrington/Original Character(s); Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 6052 | Rated: T | Tags: Modern AU, Reddit AU, Some AITA typical terrible people, QPR Steve & Robin, NB Steve, NB Robin AKA the Stobin AITA fic

r/AmITheAssshole u/HufflepuffHero94 9yrs ago AITA for being concerned about my girlfriends living situation?

Context: My (20F) girlfriend (18F) is amazing. She's a polyglot linguistics major, speaks three languages fluently and she's completely self-taught, a genius basically. We go to the same college (Midwestern Liberal Arts college) where we met in the marching band. Now R, my girlfriend, is from a small town. Like the kind of small town that they make jokes about in sitcoms, she isn't really online (so I'm not worried about her seeing this) because she claims they didn't even have the internet until she was in high school. She isn’t really “out” because of this. It’s like she lives in this semi-closeted space like some kind of TV queerbait character. It's not really a problem, I mean she’ll tell people we’re dating if they ask and all of our marching band friends know but when I ask about it she says it’s because it wasn’t really safe in her hometown growing up. But it’s 2014 not 1980…

Even though R is a freshman she’s in special accommodations. Instead of living in the dorms like the school usually requires she’s got a small, studio apartment just off of campus. A perk considering how awful living in the dorms is. R is a pretty private person and super studious. Most of our dates have been in the library or a study date at the coffee place on campus. She’s not big on PDA, she says she’s trying to get better at it but she’s still only sort of out and I’m her first real girlfriend. I was psyched when she asked me if I wanted to go with her to her apartment to study, said her best friend had a never fail study method that she was eager to try (and when she told me what it was I was pretty eager too).

R can’t drive, so when I pull into the parking lot of her complex she notices something and says her roommate hasn’t left for work yet. I’m a little confused because like I said she lives in a studio apartment, but she just brushes it off and says something about asshole parents and this being what they could afford when some money fell through. She’s sent me snaps from her place, so I know it’s pretty cozy so I tell her it’s fine. Obviously I’m concerned about what the set up is going to be like when we get up there but she insists that dingus (her words) will only be there for another couple minutes before they have to leave for work and that Stevie (again her words) is her best friend in the world. They moved here together from the same small town or something.

To give R credit, she’s definitely done the best she can with the space. When I walked it it definitely felt as homey as it does in her pictures. The door opened up into the kitchen and living room and she’s got those spaces divided off from the beds with one of those Chinese paper divider thingies. Anyway to make a long story short it turns out her roommate and best friend Stevie is actually a whole dude (19). He comes out, gives her a look and asks her if “us girls are planning a sleepover” and if he should make himself scarce for the evening. R says she doesn’t give him shit when his “special friends” come over and after that I kinda stopped listening. I slipped off into the apartment looking for the bathroom and that’s when I saw how their “bedroom” was set up. Twin beds INCHES apart, they might as well be sharing the same one.

Here’s where I might be the asshole. When her “friend” finally cleared out I told her the truth. I didn’t know how comfortable I was hanging out in her place where she lives with a guy. I do live in the dorms but I’ve got a single right now. I asked her to move in with me so she wouldn’t have to be in this situation. I guess it maybe sounded like I was dissing her friend, which I was but I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just think it’s weird that she won’t come out to anyone and is also living with some guy! I told her I wasn’t interested in being an experiment and if things were serious then she would want to move in with me.

That’s when she kicked me out and called me an asshole. But really I don’t think I’m being a dick for being concerned that she might just be jerking me along while she plays lesbian so she can tell her boyfriend about it at home. Even if nothing is going on I'm just worried that living in this kind of environment isn't safe for her. I mean this guy is probably just pretending to be her friend to get in her pants, I think the fact that they're from the same small town means she can't see that. I really think she would be better off if she moved into the dorms with me aita?

u/otpsnotbrotps NTA

u/foreplayisntreal NTA guys and girls can't be friends. If she even is a lez and a katy perry wannabe then roomie is just biding his time til she's ready to be converted

Read the rest on AO3

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday 13th everyone! Oh my gosh, two weeks to go, I'm so excited. Here's another round of the fic I've been reading when not actively losing my mind over all the buzzy promo landing. You can find previous rec lists here.

13 September 2024

the wayward son by @gayhoediaz had me GRIPPED. As the author summarises: 'Eddie misses his son, grows a mustache, pines after his best friend, and becomes a regular at a gay sex club. That last part is either an indulgence or an inevitable, somewhat self-destructive conclusion to several decades worth of compulsory heterosexuality and catholic guilt. Don’t ask him which.' The result of this is a scorchingly hot voyeuristic thrill ride with an absolutely aching emotional heart along as a passenger. I felt so much for Eddie as he self destructed and built himself back up again, truly throwing himself in at the deep end, and then Buck there to catch him when he falls. This fic gave me every emotion and was so incredibly satisfying. I already know it's gonna be one to go back to time and again.

had a feeling i could be someone by @butchdiaz of course I had to include the butch dyke Hotshots on XYZ inspired Eddie contemplating shaving her head fic. This one resonated with me so much, and was such a lovely take on the themes we're seeing in personhood and self actualisation and ownership of image versus what your parents intended for you. I love this character study of Eddie reclaiming her butch identity and expression, and Buck's sweet support in her journey. Make sure to check out the gorgeous fanart by @iinryer it was inspired by and it inspired if you haven't already seen it!

whatever you like by @clytemnestraaa 'hello mr performance anxiety meet mr desperate to please' sums it up perfectly. In which established relationship Eddie and Buck are having sex, but they still need to work on their communication. Buck wants to know what Eddie likes in order to give him that experience, but that's easier said than done when you're not really sure what exactly it is you want, or how to go about it. I really loved this exploration of a misalignment in sexual experience, the resulting cross purpose conversation, and the non-judgemental openhearted hand extended in order to find your way together. Or 'two 30-something men inexplicably put through an episode of Sex Education.' Sympathetic, sweet, and funny too.

But God, I love the English by @starlingbite this au tickled me for the sole reason of having watched several seasons of the show before someone told me Oliver is from London, and not having picked up on that accent slippage despite ALSO BEING FROM LONDON. Chimney and a British Buck take part in a six week cultural exchange programme with Chim going to London to stay with Maddie and work at a fire station, whilst Buck joins the 118 in LA. Eddie is instantly besotted by the handsome stranger, and fun linguistic hijinks aside, Buck fits right in. How will they manage long distance when it's time for him to go home? So much fun, and with sweet background Madney too!

it's leading me on, every time we touch by @bisexualbellamyblake in which after Eddie mentions to the team that he's having a little back trouble, Maddie lets slip that Buck once trained to be a massage therapist during his career jumping youth! As an almost certified professional of course it wouldn't be like Buck to not offer his services. And Eddie has no reason to turn him down. Does he? This oozed with sexual tension, whilst also being really lovely moment of friends getting to know each other better. Really excellent character voice and internal dialogue from Eddie.

all of the girls you loved before by @wildehacked back again with yet another banger...literally. Let me tell you, I read this one on public transport and had to school my expression with all my decades of fic reading experience in full force. Dragged out to team drinks on their evening off, the tipsy conversation turns to the team's top sexual experiences. When Buck finds out Eddie's is from years before, he can't help but dwell on just exactly how he could fix that. And he finds narrowing down his own top five a little tricky. With flashback cameos from Abby, Taylor and Tommy, this 5+1 fic was hot as hell.

P.S. Insert plea for Madney and Henren friendship/extended family fic here...I think I'm gonna need it! As usual feel free to self rec! And please share and reblog :) See you next week.

[socoolinmypajamas]

Rayashki and Zeno: How a harsh environment shapes actions.

Sometimes, a perception is taken as a principle. A "cruel reality" can be described as a negative perception of the material world, used to assert a situation. "Reality is cruel", however consists in using the previously descrived perception as a fundamental truth or a proposition in which to base the foundations of a system of belief, of behaviour or of a chain of reason. Both are heavily present in Farewell Rayashki, a story all about the strenght of the colective, the indomitable human spirit in the face of adversity and what shapes the actions of those who persue a goal. With that in mind, I wanted to write... Not an analysis per se, but rather to build some sort of structure or perspective (whatever you want to call it) through which the story can be analyzed.

Now, imagine a matrix diagram where the X-axis goes from "Gemeinschaft" (Community) to "Gesellschaft" (Society), two terms taken from german sociologist, Ferdinand Tönnies, and the Y-axis goes from "Deontic" to "Epistemic" in a mix between a Gretchen McCulloch's linguistic sense and a Józef Maria Bocheński's philosophical sense. If everything I just said made no sense, don't worry. Here's a (very) rough explanation of what I'll mean with these two dichotomies through this post: X-axis: A classification of societal ties. "Gemeinschaft" refers to personal, direct interactions with emotional relationships (such as families or small towns like Rayashki) formed by people who strive to archive the goals of a collective. "Gesellschaft", on the other hand, is about indirect and formal interactions, with more rational relationships (like a company or an institution like Zeno) in which everyone band together to persue personal goals in common. Y-axis: A classification of actions as both modality (McCulloh) and authority (Bochenski). Roughly: "actions based on interpretations and beliefs done by someone with an authority based on their ammount of knowledge and experience" (Epistemic)" vs "actions based on rules and/or desires done by someone with a role or position that gives them the power to enforce them" (Deontic).

Upper-left: Gemeinschaft/Epistemic

Windsong's quest, mostly percieved as a fool's errand, is a classic underdog story. The lone reasercher who, disheartened by the lack of support from all the important academic institutions and societies, finds in the small town of Rayashki a more hospitable enviroment to persue her goals. She creats emotional conections with the community and soon finds more self-fulfilment in helping the townfolk than in other things like taking Zeno's offer or abandoning her studies, which are presented as more beneficial options from a rational point of view.

She confronts the notion of "cruel reality" and rejects "Reality is Cruel" as a principle. This action comes from what she knows (her study of ley lines) and beliefs (the people of Rayashki, the usefullness of her field of research).

Bottom-Left: Gesellschaft/Epistemic

You'll think he should be at the opposite side of Windsong BUT Bertolt, as the classical evil guy in your everyday underdog story, actually rejects the notion of "cruel reality", and accepts "Reality is Cruel" as a principle. His emotional detachment from the people of Rayashki, their values, and even their very same idea of community, comes from his role as a member of Zeno, an institution that exemplfies the impersonal and formal relationships of the Gesellschaft. He doesn't see himself as the evil corporate guy who's there to destroy their dream for a greedy goal, but as the savior who comes to provide the light of rationality to this uncultured rural people who are willing to risk their lives for the sake of primitive traditions and values. He defines himself as a "simple representative of Zeno, bound by their rules and orders, working tirelessly to help people in a world wreaked by The Storm", a description that allows him to minimize his negative perception of the reality of others while justifying operating under the principle of Reality is Cruel.

Bottom-Right: Gesellschaft/Deontic

Evgeni is shown through the story as a leader of Rayashki who deeply cares about his community BUT is willing to destroy it for the sake of a rational goal: protecting the lives of the townfolk.

He embraces the notion of "cruel reality", and accepts "Reality is Cruel" as a principle.

But how is HE in the opposite side of Windsong, instead of Bertolt? In Tönnies dichotomy of Gesellschaft and Gemeinschaft, the relationships that are meant to keep people in communities and societies can also push them out: is all about wether the social ties become too tight or too lose to help us find self-fulfilment in them. Windsong found in a community what she couldn't find in society (validation and encouragment for her study of ley lines), while Evgeni thought he found in a society what he couldn't find in his community (a positive prospective for the people of Rayashki).

Upper-Right: Gemeinschaft/Deontic

While Bertolt is a man of the world, trying to expand the benefits of globalization by placing the needs of bigger groups above those of the little ones, what Vila is persuing isn't just a goal to archive, but a dream to share. She didn't became a part of Rayashki only to build an utopia: everyone living there were already doing that and Vila found meaning in developing strong emotional ties with everyone as they strive together to work hard for Rayashki.

However, unlike Windsong, she accepts the notion of "cruel reality", even if she doesn't agree with "Reality is Cruel" as a principle. This one si a bit tricky to explain.

It all comes down to their experiences while chasing their dreams and how that shaped their understanding of what a dream is.

For Vila, is something that kept her going. A cherished wish that inspired her to leave the rusalki and search for a new home. A goal she could share with the people of Rayashki. A hope to cling unto while she nourishes the sprouts of Rayashki while they are passengers of the ship called "St Pavlov's Foundation" while adrift in the vast sea of the outside world, so they can carry on the spirit of Rayashki. She accepts the "cruel reality" as something that could hinder her dreams, force her to adapt them, but never crush them.

For Windsong, the dream was but a promise turned into a burden. It was not something that comforted her if held tight, but rather something it pained her to let go. Accepting the "cruel reality" meant letting something die, and for someone who was struggling in all fronts, it meant taking a toll way to big for her to handle.

As the last ley line hunter, the dream is but a gamble turned into an investment. The chance of failure is there no matter what. Only thing she can do, is to work hard to reduce it as much as possible. To her, a "cruel reality" is something that crushes dreams. Is not enough to reject the use of this perception as a principle: her own experiences taught her that the perception itself can be a cancer. She might have a tendency to put herself down, to have doubts on what she does and to even be "realistic" in any situation she encounters. But there's ALWAYS a part of her fighting her perception of reality from turning into a negative one even if she lacks the proper arguments or mental state to do it effectively. Vila noticed that from day one, and began to slowly share with her the tools Windsong lacked, helping her become a more confident and capable person, while inadvertibly gaining a trusty partner to rely on.

Their experiences shaped them into people who complement each other incredibly well. Leaning into each other, they'll plant their seeds of hope into a new generation. For the study of ley lines; for Rayashki; for those who live in a world affected by The Storm; for those who'll survive it. *** To anyone who'll read this... whatever the hell it was till the end, thank you for time! Feel free ask me anything, correct me, chew this to bits with your bare teeth, whatever you like. I just haphazardly wrote it because I love this game so much.

[disillusioneddanny]

Barbie and Ken {Dead on Main}

The light flashed bright in Danny’s eyes, momentarily blinding him as he held the sign with his name up. He couldn’t believe this was happening. When Jazz had told him that she was going to set him up with a coworker of hers, Danny was expecting a nice night at dinner where they had some wine, talked about shared interests and all that jazz. 

What he got instead was a knock out drag out fight with a bastard who immediately started throwing hands as soon as Danny had walked into the restaurant! He hadn’t even gotten to meet this guy that Jazz was setting him up with! 

She had set him up with an English teacher at the school she was working at. The siblings had moved to Gotham together as soon as Danny had graduated from high school. In that time Jazz enrolled in Gotham University and got her degree in Chemistry and her teaching license. 

Danny decided to go to school for linguistics. When you already know all the dead languages and most languages come from those, the idea of studying all of the others just sounded neat. 

But none of that mattered now. 

Why?

Because Danny Fenton was in fucking jail. 

He scoffed as the police officer booking him in had him step away from the camera and put in his finger prints before escorting him to the hallway where the jackass he fought was already waiting, handcuffed and leaning against the wall, a scowl on his face. All Danny wanted to do was meet this Jason Todd guy that Jazz had been talking up for weeks and instead he got some fucking liminal prick who wanted to fight instead. 

Which usually, the halfa was all for getting into a fun ghost fight! Even with fellow halfas or liminals. But not when he’s supposed to be on a date! Not when he’s trying to make himself look good for a guy who sounds like a match made in heaven for him!

Sure, the fight was a lot of fun, and it was the first time in years that he got to fight another ectoplasmic entity, but that was beside the point! Now Jason was going to think that Danny was nothing more than a criminal. 

Oh, Danny hoped to the ancients that Jason hadn’t seen his fight with the liminal. He hoped to anyone who was listening, to Clockwork, to the Ghost Queen, anyone who was willing to listen to his pleas, they had to make it where Jason didn’t see him get arrested. 

“Todd, Fenton! Follow me,” a guard shouted, Danny glanced over at the asshole and raised an eyebrow. 

“Todd?” He said incredulously. 

“Fenton?” The man asked with a disbelieving laugh of his own. 

“Danny,” Danny said with a small smile, trying not to lose his shit. If his fucking date was the same guy with that fantastic left hook, he was going to lose his mind. 

“Jason,” he said, letting out another chuckle. “Jazz was right, we did have instant chemistry, but not for the reason she thought. I’m fuckin’ sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never just attacked someone before. Well, not like that, at least,” he said, shaking his head as the two followed behind the guard. 

The officer snapped at the two to shut up and Danny held back a sigh as he glanced over at the liminal. It was likely that Jason didn’t even know he was liminal and damn, that was a story that Danny wanted to hear as soon as possible. In the meantime, though, he looked this Jason Todd up and down and smiled to himself. 

Jazz definitely knew what Danny’s type was. That was for damn sure. 

Jason Todd was built like a goddamn tank. While Danny still managed to be taller than him by a few inches thanks to that Fenton height, the six foot man stood tall and buff compared to Danny’s own tall and lanky. He was absolutely sure that Jason could throw him around like a rag doll if Danny let him and by the ancients would Danny let him. 

The freckles that smattered across the bridge of Jason’s nose reminded Danny of some of his favorite constellations. If he looked close enough he bet he could find quite a few, just looking where he was he found ursa minor, polaris sat right at the tip of Jason’s nose. He wanted to trace each and every constellation on his skin. 

“Don’t worry about it, I have a punchable face,” Danny said with a laugh as the two got shoved into a holding cell together. He turned to the officer and called after him. “Don’t we get a phonecall!”

“Shut the fuck up,” the officer said before walking away. 

“Gotta love Gotham’s finest,” Jason said with a chuckle as he sat on a metal bed with a pitiful paper thin mattress on top of it and a threadbare blanket laid on top. Danny took a seat beside him and let out a breath of air. 

“Well, this wasn’t what I was planning for our first date,” Danny said softly. “I was thinking we’d get dinner, probably bail because I’m not big on fancy dinners and it was Jazz’s idea and then we could go walk around together and talk about books and the fact that the smog in Gotham is terrible.”

“That does sound fun,” Jason said with a chuckle. He glanced over at Danny and gave him a small smile. “You’re not what I was expecting. I mean you’re a lanky mother fucker but that punch to the jaw was no joke, I think it’s already bruising.”

Danny chuckled and took Jason’s face in his hands and turned his face to the side to look at where he had punched him to the face. “Yeah it’s bruising,” he said but smiled softly before he allowed his hand to ice over and pressed it against the bruise. “How’s that feel?”

“Better,” Jason said with a sigh as he smiled up at Danny. “You’re a meta?”

The halfa let out a soft hum. “In a way, does it count if you died in a freak lab accident and then came back wrong and with weird ghost powers?”

Jason looked at him startled before he threw back his head and let out a laugh of his own. “I’m jealous, all I got when I died and came back wrong was a white streak in my hair and an intense rage that never really goes away.”

Danny tilted his head and looked Jason over for a moment before he noticed the little ball of a blob ghost that seemed to be gnawing on his core inside of his chest. 

“Remind me when we get out of here, I can fix that rage for you,” Danny said with a smug smile. “And trust me, I bet without that messing you up, you’ll get some fun little ghost powers too.”

Jason just laughed and launched into the tale of how he had come back to life in the first place, telling Danny a wild tale of assassins and weird pits of ectoplasm called Lazarus Waters and how he decided to become a crime lord in the night while during the day he went to school and eventually became an English teacher where he found a passion for helping teenagers who wanted to go somewhere in life. 

In turn, Danny told his own story, about being a small town hero and later defeating the Ghost King, only to turn down the throne when it was offered and instead moved to Gotham with his sister to finally live a normal life and managed to somehow become a linguist despite the childhood dream of becoming an astronaut. 

He didn’t know how long they spoke to one another, but by the end of it, Danny had completely forogotten he was in jail in the first place! At least until a guard came in and opened the cell. 

“Fenton, Todd, you’ve been bailed out!” he barked. The two quickly got up and followed the man out of holding and into a hallway where Jazz and a tall dark haired older man stood giving the two twin looks of disappointment. 

“Hey Bruce,” Jason said, a dopey grin on his face as he looked at his father.

“Hey Jazz, thanks for hooking us up,” Danny said with a grin as the guard uncuffed each of them and they immediately held hands. “Now, I know you want to chew me out for getting arrested. But technically this is your fault for setting me up with a liminal, of course we were going to get in a fist fight. Also, Mr. Wayne, interesting to meet you, Jason has told me so much about you it’s batty,” he said with a wink. 

“Danny don’t you dare even think about it,” Jazz growled out, pointing a finely manicured finger at him. Danny looked from his sister to his date and smiled. 

“Thanks for getting us together, Jazz, you’re a great coworker,” Jason said with a smile. “But we have a date to finish,” he said. Danny turned the couple intangible and the two shot into the air and out of the jail before either of the family members could stop them. 

Jazz sighed and turned to Bruce. “I’m so sorry for introducing them to one another, I didn’t think that would happen,” she said with a sigh. 

Bruce looked up at the ceiling before he looked back at Jazz. “Would you like a drink?”

“God yes,” she said with a sigh before following the older man out of the jail. 

[eleni-cherie]

agents at first sight ✨ || bts • ksj [ONE-SHOT]

"you're Squirtle?"

"you're Charmander?"

about two interpol agents falling at first sight, literally, thanks to a master thief on the run.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

[one-shot in 'the thieves collection' series - can be read independently!!]

»»»

— word count: 5.1k

— genre: interpol agent au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburning, mutual pining, strangers to lover s2l

— song recommendations/inspirations:

the last shadow puppets - the element of surprise

solar - honey

frank sinatra - strangers in the night

keri hilson - i like

»»»

COPYRIGHT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

IDEA/STORY/CHARACTERS BASED ON MY PREVIOUS STORIES: "A THIEF'S ORIGIN" , "AMONG THIEVES" AND "A THIEF'S END".

this one-shot aims to give the backstory of how seokjin and yongsun met, as mentioned in the other parts of the series.

if you want the full context and also know what happens with with them afterwards, check out the other stories as well!

PROTAGONISTS:

KIM SEOKJIN AS HIMSELF; LEADER OF THE ROBBERY DEPARTMENT / "CHARMANDER"

KIM YONGSUN AS HERSELF; AGENT IN THE ORGANISED CRIME DEPARTMENT / "SQUIRTLE"

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

NOT FREE FROM LINGUISTIC ERRORS - ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE.

DON’T BE A GHOST READER. LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE THIS STORY IF YOU LIKE IT :))

DEDICATED TO EVERYONE WHO’S READING THIS FANFIC!

CHECK OUT MY OTHER BTS STORIES AS WELL: HERE

-Elenixx

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[set after the final chapter of the main story but before its epilogue]

Straits of Singapore, 30km off Singapore

"Sir, are you sure he'll show up tonight? It's been hours and still no sign from Park, Kim or Min."

Seokjin studied the piece of paper between his fingers. It was crinkled from having been stored in his jacket all evening.

A dry laugh left his lips then. "Don't worry, Blake," he said into the radio, "When Park Jimin says he's showing up, he will."

"Roger."

A muffled chuckle was heard beside him as he put the device down and he glanced at Hoseok resting his folded arms on the desk. "But only if you cracked his riddle correctly," his former team mate and friend pointed out with a raised brow, "I mean, you sure about time and place?"

"Pretty sure, yes. He sent that with a postmark from Singapore," the leader of the robbery department nodded and held the paper out for him. Hoseok grabbed it with curiosity, reading over the scribbled note with a hum.

'Meet me at the deck with no cards,

when the sun comes home.

Don't forget to wear a bow tie!

I'll bring the bow, not the arrows though.

See ya!'

"'Deck', 'bow' and the 'see', which is a homophone of 'sea' - it all hints to a ship. And this cruise ship with a bunch of loaded people is the only kind our thieves would be interested in."

"Yeah, I see - no pun intended," the leader of the organised crime department said and slid the note back, "And 'when the sun comes home' means when it's the closest to earth, which was today. Summer solstice."

"Exactly."

"Okay, fine," Hoseok sat back and let his eyes wander around the security room. Eventually adding with a sigh, "But I'm still bummed he had to pick the same time and place my team's got to perform an undercover operation at. Too many cooks spoil the broth, you know. There're so many other places or dates."

"You forget the CEO's wife owns this highly valuable black pearl. I bet everything I have that this is what they're after."

"Probably."

"The better question is, why does that mob boss you're after have to attend the same party."

"What do you think.." Hoseok propped his jaw on the palm of his hand, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. "He's acquaintance with Lee, that CEO."

A short laugh left Seokjin's lips and he averted his gaze from the security screens. "Of course, criminals and CEOs are not that different from each other after all."

His younger colleague showed his agreement with an amused chuckle when his radio transmitter beeped.

"Sunflora here, what do you have for me Squirtle?" he answered, causing Seokjin's brows to furrow.

'Squirtle' and 'Sunflora' were the names of Pokémons after all. So he gave Hoseok a wondering look which the latter only dismissed by waving his hand.

"Purugly is heading to the restrooms. S-should I follow?"

'Purugly'. Another Pokémon.

"No, but keep an eye on him nonetheless and wait in a good distance. If he doesn't come out in five, report."

"Understood."

He put the device back down, meeting Seokjin's questioning face. "So?"

"What?"

"You got Pokémon codenames? Never knew you were so into it."

Hoseok shook his head though. "Wasn't my idea," he explained with a laugh under his breath, "Squirtle is her favourite one and she claims she looks like it, that's why she always uses it. So I thought why not using these names for all of us? Makes the whole undercover thing a bit more fun."

"Huh, that's clever. I should do that, too, from now on." The older agent paused but only for dramatic effects as he added with a sigh, "Disappointed I didn't come up with that myself."

"Be my guest. Have you any in mind already?"

"Charmander, of course!" he exclaimed full of enthusiasm and picked his own radio device. "Blake, Jeon? From now on only call me 'Charmander' over the radio. Got it?"

Jungkook's chuckle was heard on the other line. He was rather amused than irritated, but even Skylar wasn't questioning her supervisor's quirks anymore. Both replying with: "Roger that, Charmander." 

"You really do with them whatever you want, huh?" Hoseok wondered with a laugh while scanning over the security screens from the ballroom where the birthday party happened. 

Considering they were on a cruise ship, it was impressive how grand it was. Opulent decorations like crystal chandeliers hanging above the heads of guests, adding to the ambiance of the ballroom. People dressed in their most expensive and fashionable gowns and suits while enjoying conversations and litres of flowing champagne and wine. 

Seokjin only shrugged with a smile. "The kids are alright and they're able to see a joke. But I do sometimes miss you and Namjoonie. Remember when we first started out together?"

Hoseok huffed out a laugh, reminiscing the past when the three of them started out in the robbery department together. "Don't remind me, I'm glad I don't have to deal with the shenanigans of these thieves anymore." He patted Seokjin's shoulder than. "But it was surely fun with you guys, I miss that, too."

He was about to add more when his transmitter beeped once again, interrupting his train of thoughts.

"Squirtle here, he hasn't come out yet."

With a groan, Hoseok's face hardened and he got closer to the screens. His eyes narrowing as he switched through the cameras. It always astonished and in some way also scared Seokjin how he could go from cheery to professional within a second.

"Squirtle, you hear me?"

"Yes, Sunflora."

"There hasn't been any records of him leaving through the other side of the corridor. Are you sure he hasn't returned to the party?"

"Positive. Is there a different way out?"

Seokjin's eyes widened at this and he grabbed the blueprint they'd got from security, eyes searching for any possible vents or openings. He gestured to Hoseok to pass him the radio over.

"Here's Charmander. According to -"

"Sorry, who's there?"

Remembering he'd literally only just come up with his new codename and had never directly spoken with this 'Squirtle' before, he laughed a little embarrassed to himself. "Sorry, agent Kim from the robbery department here," he spoke firmly, "The blueprint doesn't show any other means of escape, unless he decided to swim back to shore. So he must be still in there. Wait another five."

"Okay, got it."

"Is that Squirtle good?" he questioned his friend while sinking back into his seat, observing the monitors.

"She's my best agent actually," Hoseok answered truthfully, "You should've seen her shooting her way through and bending a whole gang boss to his knees. It was beautiful."

The older agent whistled lowly, quite impressed by the thought of that. Or at least how he imagined it. "Sounds like a feisty one."

"Depends. She's surely a lively person, but once you get to know her, she's an easy-going homebody. Similar to you."

A scoff passed Seokjin's lips, pretending being offended by his words. "So you wanna say I'm not unique?"

"Well, I wouldn't subscribe to that," Hoseok said with a teasing grin, "Both of you also get upset in the same hilarious way actually."

"Ouch, that hurts my pride you know."

The two shared a laugh when a sudden commotion on the monitors caught their attention. The guests seemed to be agitated and scattering around the area.

"Jeon, Blake, what's going on there?"

"The black pearl, it fell from Mrs Lee's brooch."

"There's multiple pearls on the floor now! It created a turmoil."

"I can imagine," Seokjin muttered before speaking louder into the radio, "Keep your eyes closely to the guests. Surely that's a distraction by Jimin and the like."

"Of course."

He stood up then, sliding on his black suit jacket. "I'm heading out for support. See, told you he'd show up."

"You need my help? I could tell my agents -"

"Nah, don't worry. I'm sure you guys have your hands full with this commotion, too."

"Sunflora?" Indeed, Hoseok's own agent tried getting in touch with him. And he gave Seokjin a thumbs up, wishing him good luck as he headed out, before grabbing his radio device then.

"Sunflora here."

"I spotted Purugly. He's rushing out with a group of people due to some uproar, I'm following him."

"Roger, Squirtle. Be careful in the chaos, it's a distraction from the thieves. The robbery team will handle it though. You focus on our guy."

"Got it."

»»»

Seokjin squeezed through the noisy and fidgety mass, people hunching and picking up any black pearls they could find - or at least the fake ones Jimin had spread around to cause this uproar.

It was impossible to draw his gun with so many civilians around, so he just continued with careful steps and sharp eyes. Soon spotting something that rose enough suspicion in him to follow it. A rather calm man was galantly making his way among the rambling crowd.

The main reason this man rose his suspicion was rather intuitive though. He recognised him being one of the bodyguards close to the Lee's, he'd stood beside them all evening. Of course his agents had already checked all stuff members for possible disguised criminals before boarding the ship, but they hadn't been observing them nonstop ever since. And this bodyguard now was clearl heading to the exit instead of being on the other side of the ballroom with his boss who was panicked and shouting at his men to find his wife's pearl.

With a confident smirk, he neared the man until he was close enough to grab him by the shoulder. "And I thought you'd never make your appearance, Park Jimin. You had me waiting for quite some time," he sighed in fake-annoyance.

The man visibly flinched at Seokjin's words, glancing over his shoulder then with a lopsided grin.

"Sorry, pops! Got a date with a pearl!"

He abruptly crouched, disappearing from his sight and Seokjin spotted him a few seconds later further away. He'd got rid of his disguise by now and promptly continued his way among the people. But Seokjin wouldn't let Jimin throw him off so easily.

He was close on his heels and Jimin could feel it. His eyes quickly scanning the area for any possible distraction when seeing the interpol agent almost having reached him again. But then he realised that he was literally in the middle of possible distractions and smirked as soon as he spotted a suitable one.

As he continued pushing threw the mass of people, he grabbed someone's wrist and abruptly tucked the person backwards. Right in front of Seokjin, blocking his way. It was a young woman with dyed dirty-blond hair and in the pushing and shoving, stumbled and fell against the agent's chest who caught her out of reflex.

"My apologies, miss, but -" Seokjin was about to politely shove her away when their eyes met. And any further words got stuck in his throat instead. 

He swallowed hard. She was the most mesmerizing woman he'd ever seen in his life. 

Full cheeks, cute nose, pillowy lips and soft brown eyes which were staring back at him intensely, placed so perfectly that it completely disarmed him and took his breath away.

For a moment he wasn't in the middle of the ballroom anymore, he was in the abyss of her wondering orbs.

The woman seemed just as stunned, her expression mirroring his.

However, soon he was washed back to the shore of reality and his memory returned, recalling his initial task of chasing after Jimin.

"S-sorry."

The woman's eyes turned into a dazed scowl, as if she herself had just snapped back into reality and wouldn't recognise the place she found herself in. She stepped back, at least as much as she could in the crowded space, his hands sliding off from the warm skin of her arms. And without a single word, she simply turned and disappeared back into the sea of people. Like a siren who had lured him into her world only to release him again after growing bored.

Someone in his work field and position shouldn't get that easily distracted and usually he didn't. But something in this mysterious woman completely enchanted him and it was more than unfortunate they had to meet under such circumstances.

Perhaps, in a different profession, in a different life, he could've met her differently. Could've spoken to her more.

By the look in her almond eyes, she might've felt the same sugar-rush shooting through her chest. But it didn't matter anyway, he wouldn't see her again. And he had to focus on more important things right now.

He began running through the now less dense becoming crowd, out of the ballroom. The double doors closed behind him with a dull sound, drowning out the jarring voices from inside. The corridor was long and he'd seen Jimin running towards it so it was his best shot right now. 

Eventually reaching outside the deck, he was met with the strong night wind of the open sea tousling his dark waves. It was sparsely lit, only a simple lamp every few metres illuminating the broad area. And there at its end, on the very edge, he found the masterthief standing and laughing as soon as he noticed Seokjin nearing him. As if he'd been waiting for him all along.

"Oh damn, didn't expect you back so soon. Really thought I made a good choice there, could swear she'd be your type."

The agent laughed under his breath, biting down his lip. It wasn't surprising to him anymore, knowing his opponent well enough in all those years to know his little mind games. So he chose to ignore his comment, not giving him the satisfaction of a retort. Although Jimin already knew the truth by the brief look that passed Seokjin's eyes.

"Hands up," the agent said instead with a confident smirk, now able to draw his gun, "Unless you wanna fall into the cold sea."

The thief, however, only met him with an unfazed glance. His arms slowly going up before one of his hands turned, revealing something between his fingers. And under the light of the full moon he could see it sparkling dark. The black pearl.

Seokjin could tell it was the real one.

"Hm, maybe I'll do just that. You know, return the pearl to its natural habitat on the way, too. Thanks for the great idea, pops!" His lips curled further into a beaming grin and before Seokjin could react, Jimin let himself fall backwards.

Perplexed, the agent rushed to the railing. The harsh wind hitting his face as he looked over it, making out the outlines of a motorboat in the darkness. Diverging from the ship and driving towards the coast. 

"Dammit." He sighed and hit the cold metal of the railing, letting it echo get swallowed by the waves. With a dragged sigh, he couldn't help but laugh shortly before pulling out his radio device.

"Jungkook, Skylar?"

Jungkook was faster to answer this time."Yes, sir?"

"Find a radio unit and alert coastguards and agents on the mainland to keep an eye on a motorboat coming from our direction."

"I assume it's about our thieves?"

"Correct, Jeon."

"Roger, I'm on my way."

Returning inside, he caught sight of security guards and staff members who had managed taking back control over the situation and calmed people down.

He came across one of the other agents of Hoseok's team and asked him where his supervisor was. The agent told him in the manager's office with their suspect and Seokjin thanked him before making his way there. As he passed by with hasty steps, walking to the other end where another door led to the offices and security room, he spotted the CEO and his distraught wife being questioned by Skylar in a corner.

Soon he reached a cherrywood door, giving it a few knocks and watching it open at the third knock, revealing his friend behind it. And Hoseok stepped out.

"Heard you got your man, that must be him I assume?" he motioned to the handcuffed guy at the armchair behind Hoseok's shoulders.

Hoseok grinned. "Yup, our 'Purugly' aka Mr San Shinjuk. Isn't that right?"

The criminal kept an desinterested and bored expression, unimpressed by his enthusiasm. "You got nothing on me anyway."

"I wouldn't call a wad of 100,000 won notes and exposing documents, nothing," Hoseok countered with a raised brow, making the man scoff and grow back quiet. Making Hoseok grin widen before joining Seokjin outside in the corridor, closing the door behind him.

"What happened with Park?"

Seokjin only let out a dry laugh. "Well, let's say at least you got your guy.."

Hoseok's eyes widened. "You mean he -"

"Yeah, yeah," Seokjin ran his fingers through his hair, "They got away again."

"Well, next time then."

"Of course next time!"

"I gotta say though. Thanks to the little panic he created, San couldn't complete his restroom deal," Hoseok chuckled.

The irony that his friend was thankful to his nemesis wasn't missed on him. "So that's what took him so long in there.."

"Exactly."

"But I surely won't thank Jimin," Seokjin huffed then, "Would only get into his already big head."

"Sir!"

The yell coming from the end of the corridor, cut their laughing off. The person audibly churned up as they came closer.

"Sir, I'm sorry I lost San. Someone pushed me and there was an idiot blocking my way. Otherwi-"

"Don't worry, Kim," Hoseok interrupted her with a reassuring smile, "You did a good job. We got him."

The woman sighed in relief and her tense shoulders relaxed. A weight seemingly being lifted from her shoulders. "I'm glad, I was worried we wasted our chance."

She was about to leave again when her eyes landed on the person beside her supervisor

Seokjin had turned around to see who Hoseok was talking to behind his back.

And both grew stiff.

There she was, the woman with the full cheeks and dazzling eyes. Her waves pushed to one side, cascading down her shoulder softly as silk. Their bright shade contrasting the black fabric of her tight dress. Now without endless people surrounding them, he had a clearer view on her, seeing it reached only half her thighs, leaving a handwidth of skin between its hem and her overknee boots who added height to her rather petite physique. And he noticed the grip of a 9mm peaking out from one of them.

He watched her burgundy lips part then in shock, unable to avert her eyes from him either.

"The idiot," she eventually breathed, causing the sudden tension to dissolve abrubtly. And Seokjin scoffed amused. "Excuse me?"

She dismissed his question and instead glanced at Hoseok behind him. Only earning a confused glance back. "You two know each other?"

"This is the idiot who blocked my way!"

"Hey, wait a sec, I didn't do it on purpose!" Seokjin quickly defended himself, "Jimin pushed you onto me, so if someone blocked anyone's way it was you blocking mine."

Flustered at the unknown to her details on the incident, she folded her arms and looked away. "That- that wasn't my intention," she mumbled then with a small embarrassed huff.

The taller man sighed and mimicked her in a less serious manner. "Neither mine."

"Well," Hoseok began then in an attempt to change topics, "Agent Kim, how about you let me introduce you to the other agent Kim then?"

She frowned, looking Seokjin up and down. "You're an agent?"

He ignored her judging glare and flashed her a charming smile instead. In a way, he found her even more intriguing now than before. "Nice to meet you. And you are?"

Hoseok nudged his arm as he stepped beside him. "She's the one you talked to earlier. Agent Kim Yongsun."

"You-" His eyes grew, facing her again with a stunned expression. "You're 'Squirtle'?"

Yongsun unintentionally backed off, equally astonished. "You are 'Charmander'?"

This was the guy who also used Pokémon codenames like her? No way.

»»»

"Hey."

Yongsun averted her gaze from the waves beneath her, the wind brushing rather harshly against her bare skin. The ship was heading back to the harbour, all guests having been gathered back inside until arrival and she used the short length of time to enjoy the city lights in the distance sparkling like watercolour on its dark surface.

"H-hey."

She straightened herself when seeing Seokjin approaching her on the deck. He emerged from under the sparsely lit canopy with a timid smile on his lips. His dark brown hair pushed back by now, his forehead peaking behind a few loose strands. His tall figure came to an halt beside her then and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket that was casually left unbuttoned. 

"I didn't think I'd find anyone here. You alright?"

"Yeah."

Oh, he did look like a deity – exuding the perfect balance of authority and charm.

Her breath hitched and she managed to give him a nod along with a hum through her folded lips. Focusing back at the crashing waves underneath. 

Truth was, she was uncertain of how to face him again after the previous hour and perhaps also tried avoiding him by staying out there. After all, she'd called a department leader an idiot. It didn't matter that she'd found out - after asking around her team mates - that he was actually a year, almost two, younger than her. In the agency, he remained a senior agent to her.

Sure, she hadn't been aware of who he was in that moment and he'd also seemed taking the whole story with humour. Yet, she couldn't help feeling awkward and mortified in his vicinity. She couldn't even look him straight in the eyes anymore. Even if it didn't cause her trouble at work, it still remained an embarrassing memory and she felt her face heat up.

"Sorry again for earlier," she mumbled while grabbing onto the metal pole of the railing, in search for the right approach, "For.. for blocking your way and.. and also calling you an idiot."

He hummed and contemplated for a moment by tapping his finger against his chin. "Hm, thinking about it now.. I should probably get compensation for personal suffering. That 'idiot' really hurt, you know," he deadpanned, earning a quiet gasp from Yongsun.

She faced him with wide eyes, ready to argue when instead she met his amused grin. He was only joking. She relaxed and tucked away some streaks of hair the wind had swept in front of her eyes.

"You totally should," she laughed softly then.

"You wouldn't mind paying me compensation?"

"Who says that I'd be the one paying?"

"You were the one making me suffer after all," he countered.

She could only laugh out at his teasing smirk. "But wasn't it all the thief's fault in the end?"

"Hey, he wasn't the one calling me an idiot," he countered with raised brows. The fake upsetness on his face made her laugh even more. It was a loud, squeaky laugh and her eyes disappeared.

He smiled. She was cute and not intimidating at all. Hoseok had been right.

The friendly banter had calmed her previous nervousness. It was easy to get along with him which shouldn't be surprising considering he was friends with Hoseok, one of the nicest persons she knew.

But she remained firm in her stance. Arms folding in front of her chest then. "He was the one pushing me to you, though, so it's his fault really," she said. An almost cartoonish grin on her painted lips.

Much to her surprise, however, Seokjin's demeanor visibly softened at this. Eyes flickering over her round face before settling back to the illuminated skyline of Singapore. "Ah, but I don't mind that part so I can't hold it against him."

Her brows furrowed, feeling like she'd lost the thread. "Why not? I thought it prevented you from catching him."

He simply shrugged his broad shoulders. "I got to meet you this way, didn't I? So it wasn't all too bad."

The night was rather brisk out there on the open sea and yet Yongsun felt like standing at 32°C in the midday sun.

He was most definitely flirting with her, even if it was in a smooth subtle way. And the worst part was that she didn't mind.

Still, she decided not to make a big deal over a hot flush because literally anyone, even furniture, would get butterflies with this guy.

His eyes left the lights in the distance then, a timid smile dancing on his lips. "Sorry, was that inappropriate?" he asked bashfully considering her silence, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She hadn't noticed how flustered she'd been and swallowed, clearing her throat when finding her composure again. "I'll let it slide," she said with as much nonchalance as she could fake in that moment, glancing briefly at him and noticing his blushing ears, "But only because we're in different departments and I won't have to fear favouritism."

"That's true. Although your teamlead is one of my best friends, so who knows.."

"Well, I'll trust that he won't do any."

He laughed lightly. "True, he wouldn't."

"You should be extra nice to the thief next time," she continued then, "You know, to thank him."

"Not that bad of an idea actually. I could crack less jokes when arresting him."

Propping her jaw on the palm of her hand, she glanced at him amused, the distant lights dancing in her eyes. And when she smiled in a way her teeth peeked a little through her lips, he could swear that he died, just a little bit, when she looked at him like that. Like he was the only man in the world. "You're a funny guy, aren't you?"

He breathed. "I try to at least."

Her gentle eyes wandered down to the sea again. The harbour shining clearer now as they drew closer. "You know," she spoke up, mischieviousness returning to her features, "I'm only apologising for the 'idiot', nothing more."

His brows knitted together. "Didn't you also apologise for blocking my way through?"

"Hm, I take it back since you said you didn't mind that."

Humming, he folded his hands and propped his elbows onto the railing. Neither one was a big deal for him and he'd found it rather funny how flustered she'd been once Hoseok had told her who he was. But he couldn't help it, he enjoyed teasing her over it.

"Mh, fair enough. I still forgive you for both though."

"Maybe I should've called you something worse then. Like douchebag or jerk," she mused with an arched brow only for her laugh to die down as soon as Seokjin leaned in. Narrowing the gap between them.

All of her pretend-confidence fell apart at the sudden proximity of their faces. Heaving a shaky breath, her eyes flickered to his plump lips which he noticed. And it took everything in him not to close the gap completely.

"You can call me whatever you like." His voice was deep and feathery, brushing over her flushed cheeks like a whisper only for her to hear. "But obviously not during work," he added with a laugh as he retreated, "That'd appear highly unprofessional. For both of us."

Taken aback, Yongsun watched him walking away, heading back inside without even giving her time to properly ponder over his words and their meaning.

"Wait!" She turned around abruptly. There was a lovely innocence in her round eyes. "What do you mean?"

Seokjin, however, only shrugged with an ambiguous smile. "Who knows." He opened the door then but before entering, he paused and faced her again. "You should also come inside. As beautiful as this dress is on you, it won't prevent you from catching a cold."

She frowned and looked down on her short dress. Only then she sensed the cool breeze surrounding them again. In all the time he'd been around she'd completely forgotten about the chillness out there.

"Uh, yeah. In a minute," she said, feeling her cheeks blushing over his, once again, subtle way of complimenting her.

He gave her a nod and disappeared through the door. Leaving Yongsun back on the dim-lit deck.

She couldn't quite figure out if the beauty of his lips was more their softness or their association with the words he spoke.

Scrunching her nose, she folded her arms on the railing, letting the wind gently tousle her blond waves. It was a pity that she began shivering now considering the beautiful view. Perhaps she should indeed get back inside before catching a cold, despite the urge to clear her mind even more after that anew intense accounter with him.

And she wondered, was it alright flirting with him like that? He might not even be in her department, but he was still another agent. And a higher-ranked one, too. Then again, he had done most of the work, really. She'd simply played along.

Shaking her head, a dry laugh left her tinted lips. 

Either way, it wasn't like this would lead anywhere. They worked at different departments, on differents floors. Their paths most likely wouldn't cross again unless another joint operation happened.

And for some reason that realisation filled her with disappointment.

She wasn't usually the type of woman to feel easily attracted to men or even cared enough to give a second thought to them. But his kind eyes and enticing face did sparkle something in her. And the fact his male ego didn't seem hurt but rather took her earlier blunder with humour, was definitely a bonus point. Besides, he generally didn't seem to take himself too serious either. Both fatally opposite traits in most other men.

Yongsun was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't pay attention to the sound of the door opening again and someone stepping out. Only when fabric met her skin, wrapping around her shoulders and back, she realised she wasn't alone anymore and was ready to draw her gun when a soft laugh was heard.

"What a scaredy-cat," Seokjin teased and her eyes widened when seeing him standing there in nothing but his black button-up shirt. Her glance fell and she realised his suit jacket was drapped over her, instinctively grabbing its collar. She about to reject his offer, when meeting his warm smile.

"Thought it's better than nothing."

"T-thanks."

He gave her nod and turned around, returning to the door when he glanced at her over the shoulder. "You can return it next time we meet. I'll make sure it's soon, this is my favourite suit after all." And Yongsun's eyes widened when seeing a wink follow his words before he returned inside.

Stunned, her thoughts raced and tripped over each other.

They'd eventually meet again. Soon.

Her fingers unconsciously curled more, tightening their grip on the suit jacket.

She only hoped he was sincere. After all, she could tell he wasn't the kind of man a woman got a simple crush on. He was the kind of man you fell hard for, and the thought of that terrified her. She didn't want to fall hard for anyone at all, especially not a superior agent or someone who might not mean any of his words. 

But she had always been a curious cat. And Seokjin definitely triggered her curiosity.

With a small huff, she slid her arms into the jacket. It was still warm from his body and it made her shudder. Burying her hands deep into its pockets.

Great, she thought. 

Now she had a crush on her supervisor's best friend.

THE END

»»»

- "the thieves collection" is completed (for now)!

- if you wanna know what happens to jin x yong, check out the other stories for more context and info!

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[frownyalfred]

okay, super curious ! i loved reading your new fic ! outsider pov my beloved ❤️❤️ now i ask, what made you choose this language and not another ? what other languages did you consider ?

It was tricky, I’m not going to lie! I needed a language that not a lot of them would be able to speak, but was still something someone could recognize parts of.

Tim gets the closest by saying it sounded a little like Mandarin — he was the one I pegged for being the most fluent Cantonese and Mandarin speaker of the group, because they’re tricky for English speakers to master and he’s obsessive like that.

I also needed something tonal enough that it could conceivably be mistaken for another tonal language by a non speaker, like Dick does. I initially wanted it to be Slavic so Dick was forced to call Jason (I hc him as the resident Russian/Slavic languages guy) but that didn’t quite work out.

I did some minor googling, and dialects like Wenzhounese are tricky because they’re regional AND they divert and split off of the main language families, which means even if you speak a nearby language you’re not 100% certain what’s being said.

But I also needed something that conceivably Bruce would have encountered at some point, whether through his training or studies. And I back tracked Wenzhounese as something being spoken in many US immigrant communities such as New York, which would make it plausible for him to also encounter in Gotham at some point.

I’m not a linguist so a lot of this was me guessing in the dark. I was trying to do some research on the canon languages the Batfamily all know, but the source material seems to disagree on who knows what.

Except for Bruce. He tends to know the most languages out of everyone, which is why I wrote him as a polyglot in this fic.