#it makes me sad when i think about it in depth

[jacksonekennedy]

Alice was so sweet (and encouraging), and Jack wondered how different his campaign trail would've been if she'd been at his side, cheering him on every step of the way. Things would have been very different. The stress wouldn't have felt so… all encompassing if there was Alice to go home to.

"What's your favorite part about it all? Politics, the whole thing."

Well. That was an interview question! Was that the first one she'd asked since her arrival? They'd neglected to talk about his career in depth. Kind of funny that they were broaching the subject now. Dozens of kisses later.

"I like public speaking," Jack said. "I like that it makes me a little nervous right before, and how it just … goes away when I start."

Another oddity about Jack.

"But, I mean. I like helping people. Changing their lives. But now that I'm in the space, it sort of just feels like an illusion. I really thought I was going to be able to change so much. My dad was in politics for a long time, and I always saw him as this big hero who fixed things and helped people. I wanted to do that, too."

Jack smiled a little sadly.

"Turns out it's a lot harder than it looks."

The American political system was just … very flawed, and it made Jack feel sad and helpless at times.

Jack sighed. If his career ever made it back alive from all of his fuck ups, Jack wanted to try to enact real change. He wanted to help as many people as he could.

He squeezed her hand, using his other to place the parfait into the cupholder. Alice looked very focused. Magnets while they traveled. That could be good. Jack liked to travel. But he liked her next idea better — a yearly newsletter, either from their trips, or Cora. Maybe both.

Jack was grinning.

"I like that a lot, actually. Both of those. Cora is such a star, but I think she'd let us photograph her. And honestly, I feel a little guilty not bringing her. She loves to travel. Anyway. I think we'll have to start taking a lot of pictures on this trip. For our year end wrap up."

'I think it's just politics,'

'Crazy world. But I'll be okay,'

Alice's frown does not immediately dissolve or soften.

It was a crazy world— she'd covered it, she knew politics could be both arena and battleground, spectacle and bloodbath. And she was just on the fringes. Just writing it. Jack was embroiled in it, Jack was the one being written about.

Just politics encompassed so much.

But Jack, despite the difficulties of it all, tries to reassure her that it's okay.

'I kind of miss it, if I'm being honest. The thrill of always being on the go. Convincing people to like me enough to vote for me.'

A huff, and her lips quirking.

"I don't think you have to work too hard at convincing."

Not her charming Jack.

Alice again reaches her hand forward to brush at the hair at his forehead. It was just too inviting. And part of her still felt that residual ache, the sadness that Jack had been so exhausted, overworked.

"What's your favorite part about it all? Politics, the whole thing."

Alice felt more content herself to be at the fringes— but she understood Jack was good at this. Some people just had a calling. Some people could address thousands, and still manage to connect with individuals as if he had just been sitting in their living room. Nobody could expect Jack to deny using his talent.

Even if it was so tiring.

At least now, Alice will be there to help shoulder this.

Alice smiles when Jack slides his hand against hers.

'Yeah, I like the idea. What will our first couples tradition be, do you think?'

A noise.

"Oh, God."

What would it be?

"Maybe we're the couple that has to get magnets from wherever they travel. Or—"

Alice makes a face of concentration. This was— important.

"God. What if we're one of those couples who sends out newsletters on New Years that's like a year in review. All the places we traveled. The best recipes you cooked. Or maybe it's just five pages about Cora. The Cora Gazette."

[viviansturns]

𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒔 - part 1

... you find yourself falling for your university pen pal

cw (whole series): flirting, fluff, very sad angst

September 10th, 2024

Hi Matt, Or do you go by matthew?? I kinda like matt better so i'm sticking with that.

I don’t really know how to start this. I haven’t written an actual letter since I was like, 8, and it was addressed to the Tooth Fairy. I also wrote one to my family when I tried running away.

Anyway, I’m y/n. I’m in my first year at Oxford, and I signed up for this pen pal thing because I thought it would make me have purpose and also practice my penmanship. I honestly just want to yap and vent into letters for some rando to respond. 

I’m majoring in psychology which is already horrifying. Also fun fact I like drawing people I see on the subway. Or just drawing people in general, that’s always fun. I do pottery, I play volleyball, and I have an cat named sally. I’m also super into photography and polaroids and such.

I don’t know what you look like, but I’ll stereotype you when you get back to me and tell me your major!

I hope this program’s mailing system is quick. Anyways bye!

—y/n

P.S. Are we allowed to swear? Cause i’m itching to.

_______________

September 21th, 2024

Hey Y/N,

Matt’s good, matthew is for my teachers and that’s it. Also the mail shipping takes like a week, that's crazy.

I haven’t written a letter like this since forever, so this feels different and way personal than text messages or whatever.

I’m in second year at UCLA, studying Art History. Mostly trying to figure out why people painted the weird stuff they did, and hoping my own sketches don’t look like a toddler’s.

Pottery sounds impressive. I can’t even handle a moldable eraser I fear… anyways I’m super into drawing people too so it’s crazy that we both draw ppl on the subway!

I don’t have a cat, but I’m definitely a cat person. Low-key hoping you’ll send a Polaroid of Sally sometime. Please please please.

I like that you want to vent in letters. Same here. No pressure though, I just wanna talk to people about things.

Anyways I’m looking forward to hearing more about Sally and everything else you want to share.

—Matt

P.S. Here's a sketch of a cat if that maybe convinces you to send me a pic…

ALL CREDITS TO John Nixon ON PINTEREST

_______________

October 2th, 2024

Hi Matt,

You win. Sally and I took a Polaroid just for you. I tried to get her to pose but she’s deeply uncooperative and bit my thumb halfway through. Ignore that my face is in it, being right up against my face is the only way she’ll ever cooperate.

I put it in a little sleeve thing so it doesn’t get smudged. I expect a thank you note (or another sketch).

Also your cat sketch was like so good. Like, I showed my roommate and she said, “Tell your pen pal I’d buy that for 12 bucks at a thrift store.” Which is her version of a compliment, I think.

Psychology is still horrifying. Did you know there's a phenomenon called "the illusion of explanatory depth" where you think you understand something until you try to explain it and realize you know nothing? That’s literally this degree.

Anyway. My week’s been kind of weird. I dropped my coffee on a guy’s shoe and then he asked me out right after. I guess that's a good sign? 

This letter’s kind of all over the place but whatever, you said no pressure, and I’m holding you to that. 

Hope UCLA is treating you nice. Tell me more about your art history class! Also, I’m kinda sad that the shipping takes so long. I guess the distance from oxford to LA is really far but still…

—Y/N

P.S. You never answered if we’re allowed to swear. I’m going to assume yes and just censor myself creatively until confirmed.

_______________

October 13th, 2024

Y/N,

Sally looks like she owns your apartment and you just pay rent. Also I thought she was a full grown cat, but she's a kitten! Also I owe you a thank you for the Polaroid, sally is so cute. You look nice too. Or at least the corner of your face

The sketch I sent was just me messing around. I hadn't drawn anything outside of class in a while. It felt good, actually. Thanks for giving me a reason, I might just keep doodling shit for fun.

This week’s been foggy. I’ve been spending more time in the library than I want to admit, mostly pretending to read while I look at the pages. There's a painting in one of my textbooks of a woman crying in the dark, but you can’t see her tears. Just her hands. I keep coming back to it.

You said you draw strangers. Ever think about what they’d say if they saw the versions of themselves you made? Do you make them kinder looking?

—Matt

P.S. I wouldn't mind any other pictures of you or Sally or something.

_______________

October 23rd, 2024

Matt,

Thanks! You’re so sweet, I'm sure you look nice too.

And yeah, I wonder about that sometimes, how people would react if they knew I’d sketched them mid-yawn or while picking at their sleeves on the subway. I don’t make them better or worse. I try to draw them like they are, but there’s probably bias in my work. I think it’s hard not to romanticize people when you’re just observing.

Thanks for the sketch again and the new one. Just so you know, I’m cutting them out to put it above my desk. I also want to get back into sketching, if you wanna keep doing that back n forth.

Oxford’s been grey in that relentless, boring kind of way. I bought an overpriced croissant and ate it on the steps outside the psych building like I was in a film. It was stale.

What about you? You never really told me what made you choose Art History. Or drawing. Why that, and not something practical?

Also, if you really want a photo of my full face, say it straight next time. I’m not scared.

—y/n

P.S. That was a threat.

P. P. S. I'm just kidding, you’re cute lol

_______________

November 3rd, 2024

Y/N,

Fine. I want a photo of your full face. Direct enough? I kinda want to draw if you think that's okay.

As for Art History, my mom wanted me to study something “useful.” I picked this to spite her at first. Then I stayed because it stopped feeling like spite and started feeling like mine. I like looking at something that once mattered to someone else and figuring out why. That includes faces, sometimes.

I don’t know. The world’s already loud enough. Drawing is the only thing that makes it quiet. It’s not even about being good at it. Just having a place to put things.

Lately, it’s been harder to concentrate in class. Everyone’s always talking like they’re performing for each other, and I keep zoning out. It’s exhausting, pretending I care when most days I’m just trying to keep from going under.

I’ve started sketching you. Just based off that Polaroid. Not in a weird way. I just liked the way the light hit your cheek. I’m really into sketching people if you haven’t noticed…

Send the real photo. I want to get it right. Or at least try.

—Matt

P. S. I’m out of things to P. S. write back soon I guess?

_______________

November 14th, 2024

Matt,

Umm I’ll have you know I always write back as fast as possible. mail just takes ages dude. Also, I attached the photo. Let me know if it’s okay, I tried to make it a not awkward picture.

It’s weird, letting someone draw you. There’s something about it that feels like handing over a version of yourself and hoping they don’t miss the parts that matter. But I trust you. I don’t know why.

Psych’s been eating me alive. We’re doing a unit on perception. How two people can look at the same thing and see it completely differently. It made me think about you. But I feel like you pay attention. 

And I get it, it’s also hard for me to pay attention in class. Everything just moves so slow.

Also, I sat in that terrible jazz café again. The muffins haven’t improved. But there’s something comforting about knowing exactly what you’re going to get. Even if it’s underwhelming. I really like consistency if you couldn’t tell. Maybe that’s why I like this whole pen pals thing

Draw me how you see me. I won’t be mad if it’s not perfect.

—Y/N

P. S. Ugh. I’m tired.

[Photo here, could not find a good one, mb! Also i wanna be inclusive so just imagine ur face here.]

_______________

November 28th, 2024

Y/N,

The photo is way better than the Polaroid. You’re smiling in it, which surprised me for some reason. Not in a bad way. Just didn’t expect it.

I finished the sketch. It’s folded into this letter. I kept thinking I was done and then going back in to fix the curve of your mouth. You smile a little unevenly. That’s not an insult. It made the whole thing feel more alive.

Most of the time when I draw people, it’s like cataloging expressions. With you, it felt more like remembering. That sounds too serious, but I don’t know how else to say it.

I’ve been kind of stuck lately. Everything’s loud and too much and pointless in that vague way where nothing is technically wrong. But drawing you just steadied everything for a bit.

Anyway. Hope it looks like you. Hope you don’t hate it.

—Matt

P. S. You don’t have to, but I’m always willing to draw more.

P. S. P.S. I know the pen pals program is pausing over the break, but I’ll miss hearing from you. Write to me anyway?

ALL CREDITS TO @Chommang ON YOUTUBE AND INSTAGRAM.

_______________

December 10th, 2024

Matt,

Duh, I'll write during the break. Even if it’s just one letter because of this stupid shipping time.

I didn’t hate the sketch. I love it, actually. I stared at it longer than I should admit. You made me look calmer than I usually feel. Softer, maybe. It’s strange, seeing yourself through someone else’s hands. But I don’t know, it made me feel understood.

It’s literally unfair the amount that you’re able to capture facial expressions. I showed it to Sally and she immediately sat on it, so take that as her formal approval.

I’ve been thinking a lot about perception lately. Not just in the psych-class way, but in the real-world way. Like, how you can know someone for years and never see them. Or never know someone for a couple months and see them.

Oxford’s gotten cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones feel hollow. But I like the way the fog rolls in across the river in the mornings. Makes everything feel unreal in a good way.

Anyway, you said you’re always willing to draw more. So I’m holding you to that.

—Y/N

P.S. I made you a playlist. You don’t get a say in the matter. It’s one of those spotify codes that you can scan.

_______________

December 22nd, 2024

Y/N,

I’m glad you liked it. I think I was trying to draw how you made me feel, not just how you looked. Hope that doesn’t sound weird.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t reread your last letter a few times. That part about perception—I keep circling back to it. How some people never see you right, and others just... do. I think that’s rare.

Campus is quiet now. Everyone’s gone or going. I stayed behind for a few more days before heading home. Something about the silence feels easier to manage when it’s earned.

You mentioned fog. I haven’t seen real fog in months. Just Los Angeles haze that smells like old traffic. But the sky’s been orange lately, and it’s the kind of color that makes you want to say something even if there’s no one around.

I’m working through the playlist. Trying to really pay attention to the lyrics.

—Matt

P.S. I hope you’re having a good christmas break. If we were in the same city, I’d take you out for hot chocolate at the Italian cafe. Or maybe a better place, I don’t know oxford.

ALL CREDITS TO Mike Phillips ON PINTEREST

_______________

January 3rd, 2025

Matt,

You got your wish. I’m writing from my childhood bedroom. I’m surrounded by a shit ton of glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Sally is sulking in my suitcase because she loves my parents and knows I’m leaving again soon..

Break has been fine. Way stranger than I’d like, like time folds differently here. Everyone I used to know feels just a little unfamiliar, like they’ve all been redrawn slightly wrong. Or maybe I’m the one who shifted. I don’t know.

Your letters make more sense than most conversations I’ve had since I got back. That’s not a sad thing. I think it just means I trust you in a way that’s starting to feel pretty permanent. I guess I’d say my relationship with my parents is complicated. I’m not about to trauma dump on you, but things are just weird around them.

Appreciate these lovely sketches, that’s a great santa/elf?

—Y/N

P.S. You were right about smiling. It is harder to fake than it looks.

ALL CREDITS TO Elliana884 ON PINTEREST

idkkk how i feel about this...i tried being creative and now i have this.

*THESE POSTS ARE SCHEDULED AS I AM AWAY CURRENTLY, TO FIND OTHER PARTS YOU NEED TO SCROLL DOWN ON MY BLOG*

[imaginethezeldaverse]

What do you think of midzel?

Two ethereal sides of the same coin.

And I'm sure they felt that magnetism towards one another. But where Zelda is more diplomatic and calculating, Midna is a little more brash and free-thinking. I imagine Zelda watched on as the impish form of her beloved faded into her full-figured state - fiery locks and crimson eyes a blaze of beauty against the deeper hues of her skin and garb. There was her princess.

I imagine Midna, now renewed in her true form, feels the warmth of Zelda's light and smiles. Her time on the side of light, no matter how brief, always leaves her feeling whole; she basks in the gentle glow of the goddess' chosen, a comfort the realm of Twilight could never give her.

She loved Zelda's honesty. Her ability to never lose hope. The fact that for all of Zelda's poise and perfectionist demeanor, when it came to Midna, there was softness. Zelda adored Midna's mysterious aura. How Twilight gleamed and shimmered even in the shadows. How her laughter held life and love in every note that passed her lips. They complimented each other. They loved each other. The light and shadow exist to keep each other whole.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

On a scale of 1-10 how badly does it cook you that we never get to acc meet Geto and only see him through the memories of others (yuta and Gojo)😪 because I never stop thinking about it ever since I saw that post from another acc on here I forget who 😪

i'm sorry to be all "ummm actually ^_^" abt this anon BAHHABASHAS BUT ,,,,,, that's not true !!! hidden inventory is gojo's recollection of the past (to some degree) but even then we get scenes where he wasn't present........ almost all of premature death is from suguru's pov! and jjk 0 isn't yuuta's memory or a flashback or anything like that TvT;;; so we do meet him ! we see him with his family and with the non-sorcerers he's "helping" ...... and in premature death we even see his internal thoughts. but i do get what u mean!!! personally i find it kind of soulcrushing that we see him most at peace through the lens of nanako and mimiko's memories :'3 a moment just between the three of them. and well.... when i think too hard about the fact that he was dead from the very beginning of the story, but still present and invaluable to the narrative as gojo's one & only real weakness/love ..............

i weep . lol

[statementlou]

https://www.tumblr.com/louisupdates/754934426217152513/goodbye-faith-in-the-future-world-tour-272024?source=share

did he or did he not lose fans then?

I will answer this because this anon actually brings a concrete question to the table rather than just "hurhur but you're a larrie??" (tell me you can't actually refute any of our points…). Anyway this post shows the decrease in Louis instagram followers between the screenshots taken directly after the release of Faith in the Future in Nov '22, when he changed his bio to promote that album and the tour tickets, and now, when he changed it again to mention the current release. But I'm putting that response under a cut because I'm tired of the actual POINT of all this nonsense getting lost in a sea of made up things people insist are important:

There is no rational argument you can make to say that Louis has less fans now than he did 2, 4, or 6 years ago. You don't need a spreadsheet of details you need to USE YOUR EYES! He has gone from filling theaters to filling arenas and stadiums. His second album made a higher chart position than his first album. His festival has doubled in size EVERY year of its existence. And for that matter: his insta post engagement numbers remain about the same (despite the fact that older posts should have way MORE likes due to having been there longer, even aside from follower counts.) SO WHO FUCKING CARES ABOUT HIS INSTA FOLLOWER NUMBER???? Serious question: what does the word "fans" mean if these things aren't what matters? ALL of this quibbling about what he should do to make things better and people can't even see that THINGS AREN'T BAD.

Anyway to address the specific question- (con't......)

NO- HE DID NOT LOSE FANS. HE LOST SOME INSTA FOLLOWERS. THESE ARE NOT THE SAME THING. As I said above, literally what does it mean to lose fans if that number change coincides with him having higher sales, more audience members, and higher engagement than ever before? Whatever he lost ISN'T FANS. I wouldn't be surprised if a significant factor was something like a bot purge, but also yes: I'm sure a lot of casuals followed him around the time of his big album release and later unfollowed him. That's extremely normal because that's how casual engagement works, and why the definition of fan really matters. Louis and his team understand this and have referenced it repeatedly, talking about how lucky he is to have *us* specifically, to have the kind of dedicated fanbase he has, to have the KIND of fans he does who will allow him to do what HE wants. @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram named the issue of depth vs breadth with regard to fans a long time ago, and pointed out why having DEPTH is so much more important. It's like this- artists who are on top 40 radio have more numbers on things like insta follows, and for a time on sales and tickets. But those aren't FANS- they're people with a casual interest. And as soon as that person isn't being forced in their ears 10x a day, those people lose interest and stop supporting them, stop buying stuff and unfollow, and those artists end up doing the 'opener on the jingle ball' circuit rather than their own tours. One Direction as a whole, and Louis maybe most of all or near to at this point, have something MUCH MORE VALUABLE than that- DEPTH FANS. Louis has fans who will support him even if he takes years to release music, or stops parading around with a pretend girlfriend to stay in the headlines at least once a month, or completely changes his image and genre, and that is UNHEARD OF. It's ASTONISHING and worth SO MUCH MORE. And they get that! THAT is why he always bragging about us, why industry people he works with are always so agog about us, why he will do anything for US- not for randos. He is also growing his breadth- and it's OBVIOUSLY WORKING whatever his follower counts are, but that is always going to be secondary to doing things for THE FANDOM because that is his sustainable business model. That is what keeps him onstage and reaching number one. And not coincidentally, the things they do are also working to grow that- much more valuable- commodity. So the fact that that's exactly what these chuckleheads complain about- that he does things that are just fandom facing or serving rather than everything being aimed at recruiting casual fans- does nothing but betray how completely they, unlike Louis and his team, misunderstand the actual drivers of his (actual, existing, happening) success. Luckily for Louis, he and his team rely on their own data harvesting (they do a LOT of it) and growth metrics (they're off the charts) rather than the smug assumptions of random (mostly quite new to this) fans and the few bitter people leading the complaining about everything Louis does.

[ghost-bard]

something has possessed me i think bc why am i in the year 2024 thinking about merlin/gwaine but also merlin/lancelot but also gwaine/merlin/lancelot. what have i done to deserve this

[zomboivex]

Posts creative content: crickets

Shitposts: large audience clapping

Yes… all things are as they should be.

[toasteaa]

Knew I could count on you to agree with my genshin hot takes always 😌 BUT NO I READ EVERY TAG AND NODDED ALONG SO PASSIONATELY YOU GET ITTTTT

LIKE I JUST. OHHHHH MY GODDDDDDDD.

I love Furina. I really and truly do like, she was the first archon that I needed ON REVEAL. And then when we got to experience the AQ and we got to see behind the scenes of how hard she's actually been working and how much pressure and strain and stress she's been under? When we saw her lost, defeated and the entirety of Fontaine turn their backs to her??? She did EVERYTHING she could for her nation. She gave 500 years of her life - SHE WAS CURSED FOR 500 YEARS. SHE WAS FORCED TO ENDURE. SHE WAS NOT A GOD, SHE HAD NO POWERS. SHE WAS HUMAN. LITERALLY HUMAN. YET EVERYONE BELIEVED SHE WAS A GOD. SHE CRIED IN FRONT OF SOMEONE AND HAD TO LIE AND SAY IT WAS SIMPLY BECAUSE SHE WAS OVERFLOWING WITH HYDRO.

And then when people dumb her down to just a silly woman - scratch that, a silly *girl* that's just bratty and won't take responsibility of anything and makes frivolous laws to suit her benefit and that has to have her father dearest Iudex of Fontaine always around to scold her for being a bad girl I LOSE MY FUCKING MIND BECAUSE THAT IS THE WORST TAKE IN THE HISTORY OF BAD GENSHIN TAKES. I will NEVER understand how anyone can see a character like Furina and just...butcher her character like that.

I'm ngl, it's the exact same reason why I don't fuck with nv//fr. For some reason, people REFUSE to see Furina or Neuvillette as their own individual characters that dealt with isolation and loneliness in extremely different ways. Furina knew Neuvillette's secrets; Neuvillette knew *none* of Furina's secrets. Neuvillette DID NOT and DOES NOT care for Archons; he agreed to come to Fontaine to find answers about what and who he is as well as to regain his lost memories. He and Furina were cordial AT BEST with Furina constantly pushing the envelope in ways that would give Neuvillette a shot at being more human, but DID NOT reveal the contents of her own heart. She kept him at an INSANE distance that I think is conveniently forgotten by almost everyone and it's just so...UGH.

Riv...you've gotta stop giving me opportunities to go off because I might end up getting the entire fandom turned against me LMAOOO

[mothbeasts]

i miss posting and making and engaging with ieytd content but I will be honest sometimes it feels alienating. as a lesbian.

[no1ryomafan]

Related to my various rambles of “I need to do a proper getter essay or just a video essay in general but haven’t” I actually do have one essay still setting in my docs that wasn’t scrapped and I finished which I could make into a video ignoring the basic problems in my way like I do not have a proper mic, I know how to edit yet it’s still going to take a lot of time which I’m busy rn and copyright sucks ass-seriously how do people get around it?-but I’m hesitant against doing it as my first essay because the topic is like- comparing michiru and genki to mitsuko and masaru and while they are similar I think on reflection this was me trying to hard to compare two things I like just to complain about a issue that is exclusive to getter which is how michiru and genki are handled which like- could be its own separate video being fucking honest.

[amatariki]

STUPID BOY MAKING ME SO SAD 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ she's got everything that i don't have

in lieu: after becoming jealous seeing riki's instagram stories, your boyfriend reminds you that he has his eyes on the most gorgeous woman in the world.

the muse: idol!nishimura riki x f!reader; established relationship; ft. moka wc: 1017 warnings: angst (+happy ending), fluff, jealousy, insecurities

whispers: uh so i ran out of hearts on gizmo while revising so im waiting for it to refill...go listen to she's all i wanna be by tate mcrae!! ><

reblog and i'll kiss you <3

You scroll through instagram, lazily lying on the couch in a hoodie and shorts.

It's a cool night, the city looks pretty, you just took a shower—you typically would've been watching a movie right now, waiting for Riki to come home so you two can have dinner and then cuddle together.

But you can't help but lie on the couch, your thoughts groveling at the back of your mind after you see a story of Riki and Moka from ILLIT together from the behind the scenes of a show they did together.

You know their relationship is just work-related, but seeing her with him strikes a small place in your heart.

After all, she's really pretty with a good body, rich and fun-loving. Her smile and facial features are to die for and she looks good in every dress she wears.

When she stands next to Riki in that picture, you can't help but have a pang of jealousy at the fact how good they look together. Like a match made in heaven.

Time passes by as you decide to scroll through TikTok instead, watching cat videos to try and get your mind off the story. Bisco lies on your chest, snoozing quietly.

Your eyes avert to the doorway at the sound of a key turning in the lock, looking away as you see Riki open the door and step inside.

You pay him no attention, going back to scrolling on your phone with one hand as the other scratched Bisco's head.

"Hi, baby," Riki says quietly, kicking off his shoes as he walks over to you and leans over the couch, brushing strands of your hair off your forehead.

When he sees that you don't answer, he chalks it up to you being tired and doesn't think too much about it. "I'mma take a shower and get back," he says coolly, walking away.

However, you've still got your unusually quiet attitude when Riki comes back.

"What's wrong?" He asks, frowning. His velvety deep voice is laced with worry as he helps you sit up, taking a sleeping Bisco off your chest and setting him down on his dog bed before plopping down on the couch next to you.

"Baby, did anything happen today?" His eyebrows are knotted in confusion as to why you're giving him the silent treatment. "Did I forget to get you something from the store on the way home? Is that what this is about?"

"It's just..." you blurt out, finally breaking your silence. You look down at your hands, playing with your manicured nails. It feels like a heavy lump is stuck in your throat. You swallow thickly before speaking again. "Don't you ever feel like you're too good for me?"

Riki recoils, taken aback by your words. "Why would you think something like that, baby?" He asks. "Did one of your friends say something to you?"

"No, it's..." you start, your voice trailing off. "It's just...that picture you posted with Moka on your stories."

"Go on," Riki urges warmly. "Talk to me, baby. What about it?"

"She's so pretty, and...and you look so good together," you say truthfully, your insecurities spilling out. "And then there's me. I'm not pretty or anything."

Riki takes your small hands in his large ones, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the back of your palm. "You're right," he says.

Your heart plummets to your stomach, your eyes widening in shock. "W-What?" You'd always suspected it, but it hurt to hear Riki say it himself.

"You heard me," he continues, acting like he didn't just break your heart in half with two words. "You're not pretty. You're absolutely gorgeous," he says with a teasing smile, although you can see depths of love in his brown eyes.

He lifts one hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm not too good for you, I actually don't deserve you at all," Riki murmurs. You can see the sincerity in his eyes. You can see how much he believes he doesn't deserve to be with you, how he believes he's lucky to have you. "But I'm going to work for your love everyday. Just like how you're going to promise me that you'll never say anything like this ever again. Yeah?"

"Yeah," you say in relief, not realizing that you've been holding your breath.

One hand leaves your hand, reaching out to cup your face. Your breath hitches at the touch. It's warm and adoring. It's full of promises.

"Can I kiss you, baby?" he asks quietly.

You nod in response. "Yeah."

He tentatively presses his lips to yours, his plush lips moving softly across yours, painting dreams of forever on them. The kiss isn't rushed or hurried. It soft, gentle and, god, you could keep going on for eternity like this.

Riki's arms snake around your waist, pulling you close, holding you gently like a porcelain angel as your arms make their way around his neck.

His right hand runs up and down your spine, deepening the kiss as you gasp at the feeling. He chuckles, slipping his tongue in.

His tongue works almost as reverently as his lips do, seeking out the deepest corners of your mouth as if he was painting them.

Eventually, you both have to pull away due to the lack of oxygen. He looks at you with glazed eyes, breathless as he presses your foreheads together.

"I love you, baby," he declares, sentimentally. His cheeks are all flushed from the deep kiss, hair mussed from your hands running through them. Yet he still looks like a god with his glowing tan skin and sparkling brown eyes that hold the entire world in them.

"I love you too, ki," you respond, your heart swelling with adoration for the man in front of you. Grateful to have him in your life. And you can tell he feels the same about you.

"i'm hungry," he says, suddenly pulling away. "Please tell me you made dinner."

You let out a laugh at how quick his demeanor changes. "I did, ki. Don't worry."

taglist: error 404; no records found (comment to be added)

------ᝰ‧₊ written by ©amatabelle 2025

[jaysng]

post arguement — yang jungown

PAIRING. husband!jungwon, preg!wife!reader

GENRE. angst, fluff

WORD CNT. 695

NOTE. sorry i haven’t been posting and haven’t replied to anyone in a while, life has been tough and i hope you understand. also been messing with the themes lately. don’t know what looks good. trying.

you woke up in bed, warmth enveloping you in a way that felt both familiar and surprising. your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft blur of the room. the last thing you remembered was curling up on the couch, raw from the argument with jungwon.

the silence of that moment had been heavy, charged with words that couldn’t be unsaid. you had fallen asleep with tear-streaked cheeks and the ache of his voice replaying in your head, cutting deeper each time.

but now, here you were, back in your shared bed. your fingers brushed the comforter, trying to piece together how you’d gotten there. a slight shift behind you made your heart stutter; jungwon was close, his arm resting lightly around your waist, cautious.

his breath was warm against your back, slow but uneven, as if he’d been awake for a while.

the faint nausea that lingered in the mornings pulled at you, a reminder that this moment wasn’t just yours. the baby growing inside you made everything sharper, more fragile.

last night’s argument had felt even more painful because of it, and the guilt weighed heavily on you now.

jungwon’s arm tightened slightly, and you felt him press his forehead gently against your shoulder. the quiet stretched on, the tension humming between you like a current. he took a shaky breath, breaking the silence.

“i’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, almost breaking. it caught you off-guard; jungwon was rarely this raw, this unguarded. “i shouldn’t have let you sleep out there. i shouldn’t have said anything that made you feel like you had to.”

the sincerity, the guilt in his tone, cracked something open inside you. you didn’t turn to face him, not yet. it felt safer to speak without looking into his eyes. “i shouldn’t have said what i did either,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “but it hurt, jungwon.”

his hand moved from your waist to rest on your arm, tentative, as if afraid you’d pull away. “i know,” he admitted, his voice so quiet it almost disappeared. “i was so caught up in being right, in feeling frustrated… i didn’t think about you. about us.”

you felt his breath hitch, and it only deepened the ache in your chest. “and when i saw you on the couch, curled up like that… it felt like everything shattered.”

you finally turned, shifting to face him. jungwon’s eyes were red-rimmed, guilt swimming in their depths. you could see how much he’d carried through the night, how it weighed on him now. “did you stay up?” you asked, noticing the exhaustion etched across his features.

he nodded, a rueful smile touching his lips for a fleeting moment. “i couldn’t sleep. i kept thinking about how wrong it was, having you out there. and with the baby… i couldn’t let it stay that way.”

your eyes filled with tears, and you blinked them back, not wanting to let the moment spiral into more sadness. “thank you for bringing me back,” you said softly, fingers brushing against his. “i didn’t realize…”

“you shouldn’t have had to,” he said, voice steadying but still thick with emotion. “you’re my everything. both of you are.” he hesitated, eyes searching yours as if he needed to find a sign of forgiveness. “i know saying sorry isn’t enough. but i need you to know that i’m here. i’m here, and i’ll be better.”

the sincerity in his voice, the guilt that laced every word, made your heart clench. you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “i know,” you whispered, feeling the first hint of relief loosen the knot in your chest. “we’ll figure it out. together.”

jungwon’s eyes softened, and he exhaled, as if releasing a breath he’d been holding all night. he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the touch warm and reassuring. “together,” he echoed, the word carrying a promise that filled the space between you with something tender, something healing.

it wasn’t perfect, and maybe it wouldn’t be for a while. but as he pulled you closer, careful and loving, you felt that for now, it was enough.

do not copy or repost — @/jaysng

[teaboot]

Sorry if this comes off as rude, or too personal, but how do you still have the mental strength to be like you are, after everything you've gone through? Like, not to make suffering a competition, but from what you've shared, it seems like you've had to deal with so much more than most, and yet you're still able to create, engage in the things you love and enjoy, and even wish better for the people who'd only want the worst for you. As someone who hasn't been able to do any of those for a while now, or feel anything beyond a sticky sense of resentment, I'd appreciate the words of someone who's been in shit miles deeper, if that isn't too much trouble. Sorry if this whole thing sounds weird, and thanks for being one of the weird funny guys on my dash, you've given me lots of laughs when I've needed them.

Oh, wow. Uh.

I think first off- not to minimize my experiences cause my therapist says not to do that- but I have a LOT of friends and loved ones who have been through much worse and are also doing good now, so that kinda helps. Knowing that if they got through things, I can too, and they don’t think less of ME for struggling.

Secondly… I think I used to not be so happy about life. I was really angry, really sharp and ascerbic, and when people who met me matched my energy, they’d be sharp and ascerbic back. And so I’d trap myself in this place where life ALREADY sucked, and then everyone around me was awful, so I’D be awful, and it would turn into this absolute mire of bad feeding bad.

And then one day I think after a long good cry in a public toilet, I just felt… better? Not BETTER, because I still had all my problems, but I think I was riding that post-cry high you get sometimes and the sun just looked brighter, and the annoying kids around me were just… less aggravating. The dumb teen boys being idiots were less “stupid morons with no depth who don’t care and can’t think” were just… regular old dumbasses having fun. And then I said hello to someone with a smile, and they smiled back, and we had this great conversation I never would have had otherwise, and I figured out that people are kind to you when you’re kind first.

Which seems obvious, but like… it’s hard to see anyone else when you’re hurting. And so when people are cruel or rude to me, I just think… wow. People probably see you being an asshole and treat you like an asshole. You probably see your own bad attitude reflected back at you everywhere you go, just like I did, and you probably have no idea. Every stranger you meet is a rude bitch who hates your face, and you’ll never be able to go anywhere that isn’t full of tense, defensive, cranky bastards until you figure out that YOU are causing the bulk of it. Like a dog trying to run from the shit on its tail.

And the idea of living your whole life where nobody is happy to see you, nobody truly enjoys your company, everyone is walking on eggshells and waiting for you to snap on them…. That’s a pretty sad and painful way to live your whole entire life.

So like. I try to treat people kindly, and in return I get to see happy people wherever I go. I try to make them laugh, and listen to them talk, and once they do they aren’t frightening or annoying or strange anymore.

most people, at least.

So like… I don’t think “look on the bright side” is the right answer, but maybe… find something good to believe in, and hold on.

I believe that people at large are good and kind or at least trying their best, and that those who can’t or aren’t are… sort of pitiable.

They don’t know where their pain is coming from, and they can’t make it go away, and it’s been like that so long they probably think the whole world is just LIKE that. So they never really get to experience the good things. And that’s… kind of like a hell, I think, in a way.

I don’t believe in karma. I don’t think I’m religious. I just think that we all want similar things, and we all fear similar things, and the ways we go about getting to or running from those things is different.

….if any of that makes sense.

[athenalvss]

SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE A DREAM ( Dick Grayson! )

request; can I ask for a dick grayson x fem!reader?! Where she is extremely beautiful, like surreal, and when she introduces herself to the people (titans and batfam) everyone is hypnotized and dick's ex-girlfriends get jealous

pairing: dick grayson x fem reader

a/n: I was enjoying so much writing this until I decided to be stupid in some way and delete all my work. sad af.

summary: A new hero has arrived in the city and after a few encounters with Nightwing on patrol, it leads to the beginning of a friendship - according to them - in a new case that involves the great heroes. Dick calls her cause he thinks she could help, but it is not her abilities that perplex his friends and family.

open request - batfam masterlist

The first time you met Dick, it wasn't exactly in a normal way, not even with his real name. The two of you were patrolling the city when you happened upon a bank robbery and arrived just in time before a guy inadvertently knocked him unconscious from behind.

That's when he turned around and saw you. You were somewhat hypnotic, with an ethereal bearing and a magnetic presence. It wasn't just the way your suit looked on your body; there was something about your gaze, it had a depth and power he'd rarely seen.

"Are you okay?" You said as you approached. "It was a hard punch" you said. He seemed a little dizzy, and you were worried he might faint somewhere in the city.

"Yes, yes," he whispered softly, keeping his gaze fixed on yours. He took a microsecond longer to analyze the little skin of your face the mask allowed him to see. He could see soft skin, the curve of your nose that fit the shape of your face perfectly, and lips that could drive anyone crazy. "I'm fine. I just didn't see it coming, thanks..."

From then on, you met every night on the same rooftop on patrol, and later, after a fight on those nights, they ended up revealing their identities to each other. They knew each other well enough to share their biggest secrets.

Your friendship had stopped being just nocturnal and you became part of each other's daily lives, but there was a small detail, no one knew of your existence, or at least no one had seen you, that was until one night you received a call.

── .✦

"Trust me, she'll be a big help with this." Dick came back to the room where all the titans were after making the call.

"She? Are you going to let a stranger into the tower?" Kori looked at Dick with a look of complaint and surprise.

“I trust her.” Dick was blunt, but not harsh. That sentence was enough to make Rachel look up from her book and Gar grimace.

“We didn’t even know he existed until ten seconds ago,” Kori muttered, “unbelievable.”

Before Dick could respond, the security system beeped softly: someone had just arrived at the perimeter. Dick walked over to the console.

"Get ready," he said, still staring at the screen as he excitedly headed for the door. "She's here."

When the elevator doors opened, silence fell like a heavy blanket.

When you joined, you went straight to Dick. The Titans couldn't see everything from where they were, but they clearly saw how one of your arms was around his neck and one of Dick's big hands was placed on your waist. The two of you started walking together toward the living room, him keeping his hand on your waist.

Rachel stopped pretending not to look. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes scanned you with clinical interest.

Gar, his jaw a little slack, turned to Conner. “Is she human?”

Conner just frowned, as if he needed to adjust his vision to confirm you weren't floating a few inches off the ground.

Kori didn't speak. She looked at you as if your every move was a carefully calculated threat. Her posture changed, becoming more rigid. Her arms crossed over her chest and her stoic expression didn't hide the flash of annoyance in her eyes at the sight of Dick's hand on your body.

Your gait was fluid, steady, marking your presence in the room with a naturalness that wasn't affected by the unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyes scanned the room calmly, taking in every detail, trying not to seem so surprised to finally be in the place that had once been Dick's home. But the four Titans standing there were watching you intently; everything about you seemed to belong to another planet: an ethereal, magnetic presence, your figure, everything about you.

You were like a model, definitely Dick's type.

Gar blinked a couple of times. Conner lowered his crossed arms. Rachel simply raised an eyebrow, visibly interested.

Kori, on the other hand, crossed her arms even more tightly, if that was possible.

Dick came closer. "Guys, she's-"

"Wait, no, don't tell me his name." Gar raised a hand. "I'd rather continue believing it's an illusion sent by some higher entity to distract us."

You smiled slightly, as if you were used to such reactions. "What a... warm welcome," you said in a soft but ironic voice, looking at them sweetly.

Conner watched you silently, assessing, as if he were wondering whether you were an ally or a dangerous distraction. Beside him, Kori kept an eye on you. "So what exactly is she supposed to do?" she asked in a cold voice, not bothering to disguise her tone.

"It's the best option we have to resolve this," Dick said firmly, deliberately ignoring the tension that Kori was barely concealing so as not to provoke a fight.

"How did you meet him?" Rachel finally chimed in, curious about the closeness between the two.

Kori watched you closely. "So how long have you been working with Dick?"

"For a few months now," he replied before you could say anything. "We met on patrol."

"Patrolling," Kori repeated slowly, her smile never reaching her eyes. "How... typical of you."

You didn't need to be an empath like Rachel to notice the subtle venom in her words. But instead of responding with hostility, you simply turned your head toward her with a half-smile, the kind that seemed to say, 'I know exactly what you're doing, but I'm not going to fall for your game.'

“Yes, it was a coincidence… a lucky one.” Your tone was calm, almost innocent, but with a subtle edge. “Though I didn’t think someone like Dick had such a predictable routine as to be considered typical.”

Rachel giggled, covering her mouth. Gar raised his eyebrows, as if watching a tennis match between goddesses.

Dick, uncomfortable but fascinated, tried to shift the focus. “She’s good. Seriously. I’ve worked with many, but few have her analytical skills under pressure,” he said, trying to avoid a fight.

Just as the mood seemed to stabilize, Dick's phone vibrated. He checked it with a frown, and his expression immediately changed.

“We have to go,” he said suddenly, his voice deeper. “There was another attack... but this time the pattern was different. They used a security protocol that only Bruce would recognize.”

“Batman?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dick nodded. “He and the family have been monitoring similar movements for weeks. It seems this isn't just a local case. What we saw here is just a small part. We need his technology to trace the data back to its source.”

Gar let out a low whistle. “Oh, we’re taking the mysterious beauty to the cave. That should be interesting.”

"Actually, I need you to stay here in case something happens," Dick intervenes, announcing his plan.

"Aren't we going to the Batcave? What a betrayal, bro." Gar started acting like Dick had just said something treasonous, sounding hurt by Dick's refusal. "At least we'll be in the pretty girl's good company."

"Umm..., about that" Dick begins to speak but pauses for a few seconds searching for the right words "She's coming with me" he blurted out quickly so no one could refute his decision.

Saying those words, you turned to the princess from another planet, worried that the vein that was popping out on her forehead from anger wouldn't explode, but she turned and walked away without saying a word.

Dick sighed and looked at you. “Ready to meet the family?”

── .✦

The Batcave was a place that used to impress anyone. If you were already impressed by Titans Tower, this was insane. It was cold, sober, a super-efficient place. But when you went down the elevator with Dick, even the shadows seemed to stop and stare at you.

Upon entering, the first thing you could see were all the Bat Family suits inside those transparent tubes on display, the long tables with super-advanced Wayne Industries technology, and the five key men in Dick's life.

Tim was the first to speak, though he didn't really say anything. He just adjusted his glasses and tilted his head slightly, analyzing you as if you were a fascinating new algorithm that refused to be deciphered.

Jason let out a low, unfiltered laugh, trying not to appear mesmerized by your appearance. He smiled crookedly as his eyes scanned your figure without any shame. While keeping his gaze on you, he murmured to himself, "Now I understand how Bruce felt about working with Selina."

"Sorry, what?" You asked him, trying to understand what he said.

"Why you just shut up, Todd? you look better that way" Dick answered him with a serious look.

"Nothing important,babe, sorry" Jason answered you without taking his look on you.

Damian, from the back, murmured something that only Tim could hear, although what mattered was his posture: arms crossed, brow furrowed, sharp gaze. “I don’t trust anyone who seems like an illusion generated by an AI.” A compliment in Damia language

Bruce, in the background, remained silent. His presence filled everything, like a shadow impossible to ignore. He observed every detail: your posture, your body language, the contact you maintained with Dick. His judgment was an invisible sentence in progress, but not immediate. He analyzed. He measured. He weighed, but there also appeared that slight raise of an eyebrow that, coming from him, was practically an exclamation.

You had caught his attention, and that was weird.

The almost imperceptible sound of smooth wheels on the polished floor broke the tense air. From a darker corner of the cave, Barbara's figure appeared, descending the side ramp. She didn't announce her presence, but everyone noticed her.

She radiated control and serenity. Her red hair was perfectly combed, and his gaze was as sharp as an arrow. she stopped at a safe distance, not getting too close.

“You don't usually bring unannounced visitors,” she said finally. Her tone was gentle, but laden with invisible layers: courtesy, analysis… and something harder to define. Jealousy, perhaps, disguised as professionalism.

You could feel her gaze moving from bottom to top, not at all subtle . Your boots, your curves, the contours of your face. Everything. There was no shame or dissimulation in her eyes; only an impassive assessment that bordered on the hostile.

You were simply beautiful, you made everyone who stood next to you look ridiculous, and she definitely wasn't having it.

Dick turned to her with a half smile. “She’s not a visitor. She’s working with us on this.”

Barbara slowly lowered her gaze to where her hand still rested on your hip. Then she studied you from head to toe, unashamed, and her eyes returned to yours.

Barbara held your gaze as firmly as she held her reputation. There was no wavering in her eyes, but no sympathy either. Just silent judgment, as if trying to decide whether you were a threat, a distraction… or both at once.

“I guess that's for Bruce to decide,” she finally said in a not-so-friendly tone, turning her chair slightly toward her, although she didn't take her eyes off you completely.

Bruce finally spoke.

“Good. If you're here, it's because Dick thinks it's necessary. The least you can do is prove it.”

You turned to face him and nodded professionally. “Of course. Where do I start?”

And so, without further validation, you integrated into the cave as if you had always belonged there... even though not everyone was ready to accept it.

And when you headed to your seat, Dick escorted you, placed both hands on your shoulders, and brought his mouth as discreetly as possible close to your ear. "I'm glad I can finally introduce you to everyone" he placed a soft kiss on your head before returning to Bruce.

[pearlescynt]

I'm Not Glass

{ Pairing } - non-idol!Hyunjin x afab!reader

{ Genre } - forced proximity?, smut, pwp, acquaintance to lovers, developing situationship

{ Synopsis } - A vacation with your group of close knit friends? What could be better! Well, you were close with all but one person. He's an acquaintance, even after five years. A lot of things can change on vacation though... All you need is a tiny room, a bean bag, an olive branch.

(Or; the one where Hyunjin is too awkward to make any kind of move, and when you finally realize he may reciprocate your horny, lustful feelings... you make the move for both of you, or at least a comment to get things going...)

{ WC } - 5.2k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, forced proximity, smut, pwp (plot? what plot? Porn without plot!), shy Hyune, making out, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), slight nipple play, hair pulling, fingers in mouth, seriously he's fucking your mouth with his fingers, drool, spit as lube, praise kink, manhandling (as best he can in a tiny room on top of a giant bean bag), Hyune is sensitive, he is also worshipping you, unprotected sex (piv; do as I say, not as I write & pee after sex!), overstimulation, teasing, cream pie, sweating, slight aftercare, overuse of religious puns, a forgotten about game of super smash bros, everyone was basically waiting for you two to fuck but neither of you knew that, smug comments from Seungmin, not so sly comments from Jisung

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - Hello, I come with crumbs after... 9 months of inactivity from me... I sincerely apologize. I've made enough sad, emotional and apologetic posts though, so onto the story!

I almost renamed this fic to (I'll be honest, I'm tempted to rename it after the fact still): 'Bean Bag Shennanigans' or 'Bean Bag Mishaps' OR 'Bean Bag Escapades'. Then when I came up with the puns, it was going to be 'Blessed Bean Bag' or 'The Sanctified Bean Bag'. Can you count how many times I said "bean bag" in this fic? I think I've typed and read it so much, it doesn't feel like an actual word or piece of furniture anymore lmao.

I hope you enjoy 🩷

"Did you wanna play something? We could go check out the game room. Felix said there was a switch down there." You drawl in Hyunjins direction. 

You’re laying flat on your back on a couch, staring at the ceiling. It was relaxing at first, but now you're quickly getting bored.

"Sure, it seems like everyone else is already preoccupied." He shrugs, and pops a halved strawberry in his mouth from the bowl he’d been eating. He gets up from the table where he was sketching, abandoning his work temporarily.

You’re on holiday with your friends for the week, and currently inside the ‘bnb’ you've rented together. The place was huge, with almost too many amenities.

There’s an indoor pool, a hot tub, karaoke, and a pool table. There’s lots of activities scheduled, places to visit, and sightseeing for everyone to do. But it was still nice to be able to have things to wind down with when you were inside. So everyone had dispersed not long after arriving, choosing to explore the surroundings and settle in.

Out of all your friends in this group, Hyunjin is the one you have the most... distance with. It has to be some sort of weird cosmic joke that you’ve been left alone with him right now. In the 5 years your little friend group existed, someone always usually stuck around to act as some sort of buffer between you two. Intentionally or unintentionally, you didn’t know. It’s not that you two hate each other, you just have never clicked with each other, not like you did with the others. You simply existed within the friend group together.

It seems now is an opportunity to get to know each other more in depth.

You both go down stairs, walking across the finished basement, passing Chan and Changbin. They’re at the pool table, both too consumed by the game to truly acknowledge you two. You keep walking through the room, ignoring the thuds above you. It’s the stomping footsteps and tumbling of your friends, play fighting and shouting. Hearing them brings a smile to your face.

Yes, you were all still stuck in childish ways in your mid to late twenties, but adulting is hard. Everyone deserves some fun, and a break once in a while. 

They would even pull you into their shenanigans, often pretending to wrestle with you. Tumbling around on the ground, until one of them conceded from you tickling them nonstop.

Finishing your trek across the bottom floor of the rented house, you both stood in front of a door with a multicolored LED sign on it. It reads 'arcade'. You're unsure of what to expect, but Hyunjin opens the door, and you’re both met with... a tiny room? 

If it weren't for the mounted tv, the shelf next to it that holds a switch, controllers, a box of tissues, and a few games. You'd think it was a large closet... Actually, taking another look around, that's probably exactly what it is... with a giant bean bag taking up the whole floor.

Seriously, you've never seen a bean bag that big. On top of it are a few throw pillows and a blanket.

"Well. This is certainly cozy." He says.

And you don’t know his tone well enough to know if he’s being sarcastic or snarky. So you huff out a laugh in response.

Grabbing the controllers, you sit on one side of the bean bag, leaving enough room for him to sit next to you. When he sits though, you both immediately slide into the middle of it, pressed up against each other. The two of you start chuckling awkwardly, and try to maneuver yourselves on to your own respective sides, but nothing works. You both just end up falling back into the middle every time.

Eventually you give up, no longer wanting to struggle and adjust, and instead just relax.

"I mean I can play like this." You shrug.

It truly didn't bother you. 

"Mmkay." He hums, sinking into the bean bag further with his side flush to yours.

You scroll through the games on the switch, deciding on Super Smash Bros, but it needs to be updated. So you click on 'update', and sit up to dock it. Now you just need to wait for it to be finished.

You lay on your back again, submerging further into the bean bag, and Hyunjin, and pull your phone out. 

Nothing else is planned for today, except cooking dinner when it’s time. Like you said, everyone wanted the chance to settle in before the real vacation started. So you’re in no rush to do anything, or go anywhere, but still. You’re getting more and more bored by the second, and Hyunjin is never much of a talker around you. 

After scrolling in silence, you glance up at the screen. The game was only 24% done downloading, and you sighed. 

“NO FAIR!” You hear Changbin yelling, with loud footsteps up the stairs. 

You also hear Chans giggles as he follows after him with much softer steps. 

Well. Now you’re really alone down here with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you look and see Hyunjin scrolling on his own phone. Surprisingly it's a comfortable silence, and you feel the awkward fog disperse while being alone in this tiny space. In your perspective anyways.

That is, until you notice that he starts fidgeting. His hips and shoulders are wiggling, trying to get comfortable. And his fingers have a death grip on his phone, and he’s double tapping a bit too harshly as he likes video after video, seemingly without even watching the whole thing. He goes to adjust himself again, lifting his thigh a bit before bringing it back down, accidentally squeezing the soft skin of your outer thigh under his own.

"Ah, sorry!" He says as a blush forms on his cheeks, and he instinctively goes to rub your pinched skin.

But then he seems to realize what he did by trying to comfort you, and retracts his hand like he’s been burned.

"It's fine." You laugh. 

His shy demeanor is astonishing, especially when you’ve seen him act quite the opposite in the past with your other friends.

You're both adjusting again, trying to fit comfortably on the damned bean bag. It results in you both laying down on your sides, your back to his chest. He's unsure what to do with his arms. One is holding his phone above your head and resting on the bean bag, the other is twitching and hovering above you. He seems to want to rest it on your waist, but is unsure. 

“You can hold me, you know, I don’t mind. We all cuddle anyways, it’s nothing new. It will probably be more comfortable anyways.” You mutter.

Which is true. You all are a cuddly and touchy friend group. Snuggle piles happen quite frequently, much to certain people’s dismay, especially on movie nights. Yet somehow, every time they happen, you and Hyunjin always end up the farthest apart from each other. 

That doesn’t matter now though, you’re trying to reassure him and extend an olive branch. There’s no reason the two of you can’t be just as close as you are to everyone else.

“Oh, uh, okay. Thanks.” He manages to stutter out. 

It’s cute, he’s always been a bit timid in his interactions with you. Not that there were ever too many. Regardless, he lets his arm fall over you, let’s his fingers dangle in that area below your navel, but above your pant line. Then he’s back to scrolling on his phone, still above your head. 

You scoot back a bit, just trying to get more comfortable, but he stiffens. He’s immediately trying to back up, and ends up dropping his phone with a quiet thud, as it slips to the floor between the bean bag and the wall. His hand comes to your hip, squeezing surprisingly tight so he can hold you in place.

 He seemingly wants to avoid his pelvis pressing into you. 

“S-sorry! I’m sorry.” He spits out, his grip relaxing on your hip, but not moving so he could keep you still, “I didn’t mean to– well I didn’t want you to– just, I’m sorry.”

It's amusing really, ending up in this situation and position, with someone who is essentially an acquaintance. The two of you never hung out one on one, and only ever saw each other in group settings. Even taking all of that into consideration, this doesn't feel unnatural to you. And you won’t lie, your mind has wandered to impure thoughts about him before. 

And there’s no way you’re connecting the puzzle pieces wrong. The way he’s always acted around you, the distance you both kept from each other, it’s got to be mutual.

So you figure, now’s as good a time as any to make a move…

A smirk spreads across your lips and despite his hand desperately trying to hold you still, you move backwards, snuggling closer to him.  "Wanna know a secret?" 

You can feel him filling out in his pants, he’s half hard already from barely anything. That gives you all the conviction you need to hopefully initiate something fun. 

"Ah, sure?" His voice is shaky, adorable.

"I'm not made of glass, you can touch me. I won't break, promise. Plus," You say in a soft and low voice, "Maybe I like it a little rough."

He looks at you for a second, registering your words, and then slowly nods. Hopefully it clicked for him too.

You're sure it did, because his lips bloomed into a smile, and his eyes lidded. Then with all the sudden confidence in the world, he tugs at you rolling you over. Both of you face to face, as you dipped further into each other. He's staring into your eyes, and then he places a hand on your arm, tracing it up to your shoulder.

"So... you're okay with being touched? Anywhere?" His voice is silky smooth now, and alluring. Not to mention his eyes are sharp with a lustful resolve.

Whatever game you started playing, he clearly just took over.

You go to speak, but he brings his hand to caress your jaw, and holds eye contact with you. Gently, he grips your chin, slowly pulling you towards his face, his eyes darting to your lips. You close your eyes in anticipation, and instead feel his breath fanning your lips. His lips are ghosting over yours. He's waiting for you to make a move.

As confident as this man just was, he's still having you make the first move.

You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain, so what the hell.

Your lips brush against his, and he's kissing you back fervently. He's tender, but desperate. Deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue between your lips. The taste of him is immediately intoxicating. Mint and... strawberries?

You never thought an odder pairing tasted better.

Where he was once too nervous to even accidentally touch you, he had all the intent to make you feel on fire now.

Your bodies pressed together felt so warm. One hand clutching a fistful of his shirt, and the other wrapped around him. His hand slides down your back, resting on your butt and kneading it. Both of your legs are a tangled mess, intertwined in a way that he was able to perch his thigh between yours. He presses his thigh up, and you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, earning a groan.

Something kept changing in him, or maybe it just kept revealing the true version of him, and you weren't prepared when he slipped his other arm underneath you, grabbed you and twisted, hauling your body on top of his. You were straddling him. His hands resting on your thighs, rubbing his thumbs in little circles. Looking down on him, you see the desire in his eyes, and you can only hope he sees the same in yours.

He no longer seems to be shy as he sits up a bit. It seems like he's admiring you, looking your body up and down. You watch as his eyes trail down to your lips, to your neck, to your heaving chest, and then lower... Where your body sat atop his, heat meeting heat. Then he's holding eye contact again as he grabs your hips, rolling you into his hardened length. Your head was clouded with lust and nothing else. He was letting you know exactly what he wanted. So when you started to move your hips of your own volition, his jaw dropped, his eyes fluttered closed, as his breath hitched.

This man is gratifyingly sensitive.

He wasn't gentle this time when he kissed you again. He sat up fully, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck. His tongue explored yours, kissing him felt like experiencing the hunger of a starved man. You were more than happy to feed him. He devoured you, and you savored each flick of his tongue. He cards his hand up into your hair from the base of your neck, and a shiver goes down your spine. His touch feels magnified. When he gripped a fistful of hair tightly, you moaned into his mouth. 

He tugged you away from his lips by your hair, craning your head back and exposing your throat to him. And you're stuck, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily. You want to pout in protest, but when he starts peppering kisses on your neck, you sigh and close your eyes. His lips were so plush and warm as he pressed them against your skin.

He's loosening his grip on your hair, and dragging his hand down your neck. You jolted a bit at him groping your chest. His palm is warm against you, and he gives a little squeeze before massaging your tit. When his teeth nip your collar bone, you're whining and biting your lip. He soothes it with his tongue, and goosebumps bloom across your body. His kisses trail down further until they can't, and he's lifting your hoodie off roughly. Irritated at the boundary between you and him. You feel so overwhelmed with want, that it aches.

You started moving your hips, trying to relieve the throbbing between your thighs. He stops to look at you reverently, his eyes lost in your expression as you attempt to pleasure yourself. You take the opportunity of him being distracted to push him down onto his back, and he grunts as he lands. It gives you a better position to roll your hips against his bulge again, sending tingles throughout your body. His hands find your hips again, and he starts rocking you faster, and rougher against his cock. His own hips meeting yours in sync.

You hear the switch remotes fall off the bean bag, lodging themselves against the door, but you choose to ignore it.

Even through layers of clothing, the sensation feels completely electric, and you sit straight up to catch your breath. But he never stops moving your hips, and you have to bite your lip to silence a moan. He had found a better angle to rub himself on your clit, and you felt the pleasure building slowly. How in the hell does this man get you close without even undressing you?

Sure you've done this before, particularly in the early days of your sexual exploration. Usually in a rushed and fumbled manner, young adults trying to figure out what feels good for them and whatnot. But this man makes dry humping feel like a whole new experience.

He looks completely disheveled underneath you, as he starts to rub and flick your exposed nipples. His eyes boring into yours again is overwhelming, almost unbearable. But you never want him to look away. You were so overheated with anticipation, that his fingers felt so cold against you now. But his lips were still so hot, as you bent down to kiss him again. It was all tongue, and spit, and incredibly messy. That's when he snapped, fully and finally, letting go completely.

He lets out the smallest growl as he flips you yet again, pinning you on your back, both your wrists being held by only one of his hands.

"You said maybe you like playing rough?" He smirks down at you, fingers tracing up your ribs.

"Love it, actually." You answer breathlessly.

He nuzzles into your neck and turns to whisper in your ear, "Good girl."

You're melting at his words, head clouding up with compliance as soon as you hear his praise. Up until now the entire ordeal was nearly silent aside from panting, moaning and groaning. If he keeps talking to you like that, your head is going to be floating away from you.

He's too busy slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts to notice. He sits up on his knees, and has your shorts and panties down to your ankles in one smooth motion. You, however, were kicking them off desperately.

He proceeds to spread your thighs, gazing at your center through those foxy eyes, "Look at this pretty, wet cunt." He mumbles.

You try not to clench your thighs, as he's holding them open still. But he feels your muscles tense. He leans closer, eyes still glued to wear you can feel slick leaking out, and licks his lips. His eyes shoot back up to you, and he tilts his head with a smile.

"Is it for me, angel?"

You whimper at the puff of warm air against you, before letting out a pathetically strangled, "hnng..." in an attempt to say yes.

He's massaging and kneading your thighs up and down. His hand draws closer to where you're craving his touch.

"We’re moving awfully fast, love. I need your consent if you want me to make you feel good. Yes or no?"

"Yes, please, I can't tak-" You're pleading without hesitation.

Before you could even finish your sentence, his tongue is licking a long strip from your opening to your clit. And you let out a pornographic moan.

He peeks up, wetness shining on his chin already, "Now, now. We wouldn't want anyone to find us in this compromising position, would we?"

"No..." You whine, bucking your hips towards his face, uncaring of how desperate you might look.

He just chuckles darkly, "Good, then keep quiet or I'll make you quiet. You'd look so adorable with your panties stuffed in your mouth."

Fuck, you had no idea he was like this. You thought he was the adorable one, all timid and cute and shy. Clearly he’d been hiding this other side of himself from you. All this time, you could have been experiencing this with Hyunjin. You curse yourself for not trying to break whatever resolve he was clearly holding back from you, earlier. 

You clamp a hand over your mouth as he goes back to pleasuring you. His tongue is focused on your clit, teasing you with kitten licks. You need more, and try to roll your hips against his mouth. But he grunted softly while holding one of your hips down.

He’s swirling circles over your clit now, and brings two fingers to your entrance. He slips them in harshly, giving you no time to adjust, and you’re thankful for how wet he had gotten you first. You feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

"You're doing so well," He whispers against your cunt.

It feels so good, even better when he curls them and starts pumping into you quickly. Reaching that gummy spot inside you repeatedly.

It was nearly impossible to stay quiet, but you managed by panting through it. 

Saliva starts collecting in your mouth from it, drool slipping out of your mouth.

You’re so close, you can’t help it when a quiet and whiny "Fuck..." Flies out of your mouth. You knew quickly though, that was the wrong move.

His fingers slow down to a lazy rhythm, still working into you but not enough to push you over the edge. He lifts his head to look at you. A smug smile plastered to his face, "Angeeeeel" He sings quietly, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard.

You hope he never stops calling you angel.

"Didn't I say to be quiet?" He asks as he removes his fingers from your pussy.

"I-I'm sorry, it just... you're so... God, it was so good." You're struggling to find your words, chest heaving, and walls clenching, searching to be filled again.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." He vocalizes and climbs up to face you, "I know a way to keep you quiet."

His fingers are prodding against your lips, and you open them automatically. He's shoving them deep, sliding against your tongue. Your lips close around them, and your tongue starts laving at them. You can taste yourself, and feel his fingers caressing your tongue. It’s like he’s teasing you, showing you what you could be feeling a little lower, if only you could be a little quieter. All it's doing is winding you up even more.

He's watching you in awe, his lips parted, eyes glued to your mouth engulfing his fingers. He pulls them out slightly and pushes them back in repeatedly, and you start drooling even more. Spit is gathering at the corner of your mouth and sliding out, his eyes tracking the glistening path it's leaving.

"When we're not in this cramped closet, I'm going to fuck your face like this." 

You gurgled a bit at that, and that was enough to push him even further. You didn’t think he was holding anything more back, but you were wrong.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, and kneels, pulling his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. It springs up, bouncing off his stomach. He spreads the mixture of your wetness and saliva from his fingers onto his cock, and lets out a soft moan. Giving himself a few pumps, he lines himself up with your entrance, still on his knees.

He was looking down at you, seemingly admiring how fucked out you looked before his cock even entered you. You’re looking up at him expectantly. 

Without warning he thrusts into you, this time pausing for a second. You moan again and that's when he lays on top of you, kissing you. You taste yourself once more, just on his tongue this time. Nearly all your senses are overwhelmed, and you feel your mind slipping into the abyss.

He whispers against your lips, "You need something in your mouth constantly, don't you, love?"

You whimper softly, and that triggers him to start moving, barely any build up to him snapping his hips against yours. His fingers slip back into your mouth, and his head drops to your shoulder, nosing against it and humming. He was whispering sweet praises into the crook of your neck, you were barely registering it.

“You feel so good, love.”

“I’ve imagined a lot, but I never imagined you’d get this wet for me.”

“You sound so pretty trying to hold back for me.”

”Taste divine, too.”

”Such a good angel.”

You weren't going to last long, you felt about three seconds away from cumming.

What you did register very clearly, was him letting out the softest whimper directly in your ear, and nipping your earlobe afterwards. Then you were falling apart. Pleasure crashing over you, and body jerking against his. He was kissing your neck now, but his pace never faltered. Instead of helping you ride it out by slowing down, he kept pushing you higher. Your thighs were shaking, it felt like this orgasm would never end. 

It was hard to find the words you wanted to say in your hazy mind, but you found one,"S-sensitive." You whispered.

At that he did slow down a bit, and faced you again. Pressing more soft kisses to your jaw, cheeks, and lips. And you could breathe again.

"But angeeel," He sing-songed again, "Hyunie made you feel so good, don't you want me to cum too?"

You blinked up at him through teary eyes, trying to see him clearly as he was still slowly fucking you. It was still sensitive, and sore in the best way. 

"Answer me love."

Your response was on instinct at this point.

"Yes sir."

And his eyes darkened, his grip on your thighs tightened and he pushed your knees further into your chest. 

"Good girl." He praised you again, and you whimpered.

He gave no mercy though, skin slapping against skin as his hips jerked roughly into you. This time it was him clamping a hand against your mouth, he knew immediately you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet.

Your walls clenched around him, and you were in shock at the fact it felt like you were about to cum again so quickly. He grunted softly, eyes squeezing shut, and hips faltering.

"My angel feels so. fucking. perfect." He whispered, and punctuated it with one last pump into you.

His jaw dropped, and he was holding back strangled noises as he emptied his load inside you. 

You were squirming, you’re so close, just a little more and you could–

But your thoughts were blown away when he brought his fingers to your clit, and started rubbing in quick circles. Your breath stuttered, and he still held his palm over your mouth. You were grateful, because you were cumming again in seconds, a long and muffled whine breaking through. 

He didn’t keep going this time, he tapered his motions off, and as soon as he retracted his hand you were gulping for air. 

“Fuck.” You panted.

He chuckled lowly, wiping the sweat from his brow with his inner wrist, and pushing his hair back off his face. Those piercing eyes were watching you still, as you heaved for oxygen. 

“Holy fuck.” You murmured again.

“I wouldn’t say I’m all that Holy honestly, you’re the angel.” He smirked.

“No, but that was still a spiritual experience.” You laughed breathlessly, trying not to let the pet name fluster you further.

“Mmm… transcendent even.” He hummed.

Then he pulled out of you, and you hissed at the loss and the sting. 

“Stay still, I’ll clean you up.” 

You listened, letting the bean bag engulf you further as he moved towards the shelves. It’s a good thing this blanket was here. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to clean a bean bag. 

He wiped you down as best as he could with the conveniently placed tissues, and then wiped himself before tucking himself back into his pants, and then the used tissues in his pocket. 

He slid your bottoms and shorts back on, and tugged your hoodie over your head, before collapsing next to you with a huff. No hesitation in pulling you close to him this time. 

You both lay there, eyes closed, listening to nothing but each other's breathing for a few moments. Then he breaks the blissful silence. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to keep going without talking to you about it first.” He muttered, giving you a squeeze. 

“Overstimulation is 100% my thing, I’m not mad about it.” You mumble and peek an eye open to look at him. 

He’s gorgeous, face still glistening in sweat, down to his neck, and hair stuck to his forehead. You sit up to reach for the tissues, wiping his face and neck down and attempting to pat his hair dry. You push it out of his face again, and look into his eyes. 

“If I’m mad about anything, it’s the fact we could’ve been doing that for years.” You smirked. 

He’s grinning now, and putting a hand around the back of your neck while you play with his hair. 

“Well, we-”

But he’s cut off, because you both hear somebody outside of the door. You both scramble to sit up straight and apart from each other. You stuff the tissues you were holding into your hoodie pocket. Just in time for the door to swing open.

There stands a curious looking Seungmin, eyeing you both and then the surroundings of the tiny room.

"What were YOU guys doing?" He says with a sly smirk.

Jisung’s head pops into view and he's squinting at the two of you suspiciously. 

You didn’t even hear anyone come down the stairs, then again that wasn’t a priority when you were too busy getting your guts rearranged sporadically. Just how much did these two hear?

"Oh, we were just playing a video game." You wave your hand at the tv, hoping to come off nonchalant.

"You were playing a game. Really?" Seungmin asks dryly.

“Must have been some game.” You hear Jisung chime in.

"Yeah," Hyunjin chuckles, "why, what's up?”

"Oh nothing, it's just funny how you can play a game with the controllers wedged underneath this bean bag here.” He says pulling them out and tossing them towards you and Hyunjin. “And the game is still on the start screen." Seungmin shrugged.

Hyunjin just smirked, and combed his hair back with his hand. You, however, feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at the screen.

"Anyways." Jisung says, "We've decided we're going to play a drinking game! Come with us!" He says bouncing up and down on his heels and dashing towards the stairs.

Seungmin looks you both up and down, before he hums and walks away. As they ascend the stairs, you hear Jisung not so quietly whispering. 

“You think one of them finally made a move?” 

Then you hear a smack, and Jisung shouting about violence not being his love language.

You let yourself exhale finally with a shaky breath, and look over to Hyunjin. He’s smiling entirely too brightly for just having almost been caught in a compromising position. 

So you smack him halfheartedly in the shoulder. 

“Now what was that for?” He says, his smile seemingly not going anywhere. 

“Next time, we need a locked door, and preferably not a bean bag.” 

“Oh, next time?” He raises an eyebrow, and you want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. 

But if you do that, you know it will escalate. And you two still need a proper conversation about whatever just happened, because you definitely want it to happen again. Plus you don’t think you can handle anymore beanbag shenanigans. 

“Shut up.” You say instead, with a smile to match his own, “I need a shower before I play, good luck enduring the masses about what just happened.” 

“Masses? More religious puns?” He jokes. 

And it feels a little strange now, having a complete 180 and being able to converse lightly and joke with him. When not even two hours ago, you struggled with awkward silences. Then again, he was inside of you not even ten minutes ago. 

Yeah, a shower, the drinking game, a proper conversation, and hopefully more fucking. 

“What can I say, I feel blessed.” 

“I feel sinful, in the best way though.” He continues.

“I will deliver your penance later, first, I shower.” You joke and finally get off the bean bag and out of the tiny room. 

He follows behind you, as you both walk towards the stairs. But before you can get up the first step, he bends down to whisper in your ear. 

“I'll be waiting for you, I am but a devoted worshipper.”

Holy fuck, this man is going to ruin you. 

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale @fox-in-y @irrevocable-exposure

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[earthsparked]

You’ve never been this sick before. You’ve had tonsillitis as a kid, typical flus and colds, a memorable bout or three with bronchitis and, of fucking course, came down with covid a couple times. None of those illnesses were like this. Something has gotten inside your head.

You make a quiet noise of complaint as what feels like cold metal surrounds you, painful against your hot skin, even through the blanket wrapped around you. You feel so cold, but you’re sweaty and dizzy. The world isn’t right. Everything’s too big and bright and moving wrong. Your head’s stuffed full of cotton and you’re not thinking right. And there’s a voice you don’t know, rich and deep, with a strange modulation to it you can’t place.

Sorry, little one, but your internal temperature is creeping past the danger zone for your species with no signs of stopping. Much higher and you’re risking processor damage. Don’t be afraid, we’re going to help you.

A machine sort of noise and rush of air, with a very quiet addition you don’t quite catch. I hope.

You are too sick to do much of anything except feel horribly confused, weak, and cold. You flinch away from the light, its brightness like ice picks into your head. There’s another voice snapping something about photosensitivity, dim the slagging lights. The brightness fades, but even in the dim twilight you don’t really want to open your eyes. Everything hurts. You just want to go home.

There’s a hushed argument, and then something very large moves over you. In your delirium it registers as if you’re swimming deep underwater, and a pod of whales has come to say hello.

‘S illegal. Getting me in trouble…caught. You’re mumbling to the whales. You’re not ever supposed to approach wildlife. Even if you always dreamed of meeting them.

That rumbling voice sounds so tired, so sad, that you feel bad for it.

Are they conscious? Are they trying to communicate with us?

A pause. The other voice speaks. There’s a sense of something big hovering directly over you. You can feel it somehow, even with your eyes closed, like feeling a current in the ocean.

No, I don’t think so. Their brain activity is alarming compared to baseline. But who in the Pit knows? Organic processors are a mess to begin with, let alone one infected with something this species has never encountered before.

A big blue whale-song, mournful. We never should have come here. What have we done, Ratchet?

The other, more gruff voice. Also sounding tired. We couldn’t have known that the debris brought a contagion planetside until it happened. Don’t panic just yet, Prime. So far, they’re the only one directly exposed. We got them in quarantine as soon as Nurse Darby realized something was wrong beyond the usual illnesses. It was just bad luck they happened to come across the contamination before we could clean it all up. There’s no reason to believe it can jump from human to human yet.

There’s a pause, and the first voice is even quieter.

Will they live?

There’s more motion. Beeping noises. You must be in a hospital. Yes, you remember that much. Going into the ER late one night after the Tylenol wouldn’t touch your fever, which had come on suddenly.

I can’t make promises, you know that. I don’t know much about this contagion. I didn’t even know it could behave this way in organics when it’s harmless to us.

He sounds frustrated.

But I was fine, the groggy thought drifts up from the depths of your mind. Everything is slow and dark and cold, a thousand fathoms deep.

I was fine, I went out doing my volunteer work. And then I got sick.

You don’t remember meeting your doctors. There might have been an ambulance…you think? Flashing lights, sirens. A woman’s worried voice, low, as she adjusted the IV in your arm. It’s what is making you feel so cold, you decide, and with all your frail strength begin trying to grab and wrench it out.

An immediate shuffle around you, and the grumpy whale reaches out and stops you. You push weakly at its rubbery flipper. It’s a whale, a humpback whale you think. You have about as much chance of moving it as you do lifting an ambulance.

Eh-eh-eh! None of that, now. You pull that out and neither of us will enjoy me trying to put it back in. Optimus, hand me the - yes, thank you.

You whimper softly and cry out as you find you can’t move. There’s things touching you - seaweed, wires, tangling you. Everything’s cold.

There. Sorry, human, but we can’t have you hurting yourself. …why am I even talking to them, they’re not going to remember any of this.

You huff and decide very hard to remember this just because you were told you wouldn’t. You forget a minute later what it was you were trying to remember, and start thrashing around against the seaweed. The beeping gets louder, more painful.

Can’t ever make anything easy, can you?

What are you doing?

I’m going to use the medication June left to sedate them.

But didn’t she say that could -

Yes, but - well, look at them!

Look at who? You wonder, as you fight off the tangling seaweed. You should find the surface. You need to breathe. You’re starting to feel scared. You can’t breathe.

The humpback whale is distressed. Somehow you can feel it, you know it. If they were a mech I could put them in stasis, keep them from suffering like this. This is cruel, Optimus. I - I don’t know.

He sounds defeated, angry. So tired. You reach out past the seaweed to try and pet him, because if the whales are going to insist on hanging out, you might as well earn that huge fine for touching the wildlife. Your sensitive palm makes contact with cold, hard skin, almost like it’s absorbed all the ice in the ocean. There’s a feeling of surprise, and silence, and then something crashes like a wave in the distance. There are big booming sounds. Those waves slamming into rocky, echoing caverns.

Watch them a moment. I’m going to consult with June. Do not let them tear that IV out. Comm me if their breathing gets worse.

The big blue whale is back, filling in the absence of the humpback. It catches your hand in its massive flipper, then brushes your wet hair out of your face. You had always heard whales were impossibly gentle despite their enormous size. You hadn’t quite imagined they could be this dexterous, though.

I’m sorry this happened to you. You did nothing wrong. You and so many other innocents, harmed because of us.

You squeeze his flipper, you think, but things are getting very hazy.

Please live. There is so much more to the universe that you deserve to get to see. I don’t know if you can hear me, but don’t give up.

His voice, even full of pain deep as the bottom of the sea, is comforting. You don’t want him to be so sad. But that’s what whalesong always is, isn’t it?

The humpback comes back. He’s doing something with the IV. You had no idea whales knew how to do that. You didn’t know they could be white and red, either. Don’t tell Ahab.

June says to increase the dosage and keep giving fluids. The tests she’s running show this formulation should drive out the infection, but…

But?

…but not without…impacts.

What kind of impacts? …Ratchet?

We can’t be sure. This is all highly experimental, Prime, we’re working off of practically nothing. June thinks it’s doing something to their central nervous system. We don’t know what, yet. It’s going to be a race to see what gives in first: the infection, or their vital systems.

A rumble, contemplative. At least they seem to have calmed. Their heart rate is down to almost normal.

For now. A pause. If they recover, we can’t keep this one. Fowler can find somewhere to stash them, I’m sure.

Silence.

Oh, for - Optimus! We’re not running a xeno-zoo!

Let us wait and see if that is even a conversation we will need to have, old friend.

Disgruntled feelings like poprocks in your mind.

…fine. Oh.

Oh?

Their fever has come down two-tenths of a point. That’s a start in the right direction. Let’s get that oxygen mask on and see if it helps. Of all the gasses to breathe, they had to pick one of the most flammable. Who even designed this fragging species? I want a word with them.

The whales are singing, and you decide it’s not so scary down here, after all. It reminds you of that song. You wheeze out a few words.

Beyond th’ sea, somewhere…waiting…

Hush. Rest, now. Big blue, biggest animal ever on earth. And for some reason, it cares about you.

You fall asleep under a blanket of seaweed, and eventually the ocean doesn’t feel so cold. You’re part of a pod, swimming slowly compared to them, but swimming all the same. And at least you’re not alone down in the dark. Maybe when you wake, you’ll get to see them breach the surface, leaping into the warmth of the sun. Maybe you’ll get to leap with them.