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soongyeopsal · 13 days ago

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Friends & Family

Summary: Hansol gives you a deal that you didn’t even need to bargain for.

▸ Pairing: Vernon x afab!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / humor, smut, pwp / best friend’s brother, friends to lovers If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), mentions of creampie

▸ Word Count: 3.1k

▸ A/N: Happy valentine’s day weekend! Surprise @yoonguurt, I’m your secret cupid! 💖💖💖 Really hope you enjoy this lil romp! Thank you @ddeonghwa-s for hosting this lovely event. Don’t forget to peep everyone else’s entries for this as well, masterlist here! Eternal thank you to @onlymingyus for helping me figure this out in secret (I was convinced I’d accidentally spill the beans if I discussed this publicly lol) and to @shuadotcom for always supporting me and proofreading at all hours!

It’s Sunday night and you’ve almost finished working through your weekly routine. Your counters are clean, laundry is folded, and tasks for the days ahead are laid out. All that’s left is to unwind so you can drift off to sleep.

Both of your pillows are stacked behind you, propping you upright in bed for the perfect angle to unravel. “Fuck,” you groan to no one breathlessly, eyes trained on your laptop. You’re so so close, one hand spreading your lower lips apart as the other times the push of your dildo with the cock on screen.

The actors in this week’s selected porno aren’t what’s important: the content is. Your mind conjures up different faces over the talents’, further molding the fantasy to who you want most at the moment. On nights like tonight, ones where no one in particular is on your mind, you default to your oldest, silliest crush: your best friend’s younger brother, Hansol.

Back on the screen, the cameraman has the lens nearly inside the actress’ pussy along with not-Handol’s dick. It’s even easier to imagine the two of you like this, reduced to exaggerated moans, the slapping of skin, and the squelch of arousal as you stand on the precipice of release. You squeeze the base of your dildo harder when not-Hansol’s thrusts lose their rhythm, thrusting into yourself eagerly alongside him.

There’s a flash behind your eyelids when you tilt your head back as your climax hits you, perfectly in time with your entertainment. It’s not the hardest you’ve ever cum, but it gets the job done just like it does every week without fail.

By the time the casts’ voices return to a normal octave, the strongest part of your high has worn off. Sitting up with silicone still nestled inside you as you return to earth, you reach blindly for the water bottle on your nightstand. The embrace of sleep is calling your name and you try uncapping the bottle with one hand while the other lands on your laptop’s trackpad, ready to close the browser. You’re honestly just looking for your cursor among the flashy popups on the side of the video player, but you can’t help the way you clench around the toy and shiver as you get an eyeful of creampie that you missed in your own bliss.

You also can’t help the comical juggling that you attempt when you feel your water bottle slipping from your fingers. Or the loud swear as cold water meets your front and the keyboard of your laptop. Despite your best efforts to flip it upside down to drain as much liquid as possible from the keys, the screen flickers.

By the time you’ve dried off and changed your sheets, things don’t look much better. So much for the Sunday night routine. All it’s done is give you yet another problem to worry about tomorrow.

Y/N: holy shit they’re trying to rob me

Livvy: ?? hello?

Y/N: computer place quoted me 1k BASE to fix my shit.. said they have to replace a bunch of stuff

Livvy: um why dont you just call vern?

Y/N: your brother?

Y/N: why would i call him?

Livvy: yes?

Livvy: omg because he has a repair shop, please keep up

Y/N: omg you’re so right!

Y/N: oo think he’ll give me a friends and family discount?

Livvy: he better or i’ll kick his ass

Y/N: i’ll tell him you said hi

Y/N: wait i don’t have his number lol can you send it?

Your family’s home is next to the Chwe’s, so it’s only natural that you and Olivia have been fixtures in each other’s lives since childhood. You went from neighbors to friends to sisters and although Hansol, only 2 years younger, was always there, he maintained a guarded distance. At first it’d annoyed you, catching him looking away when you tried to include him in conversation or excusing himself from gatherings as soon as possible. This went on for a few years until irritation gave way to disappointment. You liked when Hansol came around, actually. Sure, you’d tease him here and there, but it was always lighthearted and familiar. The kind of gentle ribbing reserved for people you’re most comfortable around. Despite trying to convey that the boy was welcome around you, however, he always seemed uncomfortable. It wasn’t until junior year of high school that Olivia finally spelled out what was happening: Hansol had a crush on you that bordered on infatuation. And you were the only one that hadn’t figured it out.

The revelation was surprising, but not unwelcome. Hansol had always been funny and kind, meshing well with most people he came across. Some might have seen a flaw in how quiet he could be, though you spotted an attentiveness that, if you thought on it too long, you wanted.

And think too long, you did. You thought about dating Hansol for so long that you graduated, then he graduated, then you both went to university and danced the same dance once more. Always thinking, yet no action. With life getting busier and priorities changing after securing your degree, your late-realized puppy love dissolved into a fond memory that you dug up on the occasional Sunday night. You’d see Hansol a few times a year when your families got together for holidays or celebrations, but old habits lived on. A hello, a quip or two, then the rest of the evening was spent focusing on your own agendas.

It’s been a few months since you’ve heard Hansol’s voice and even longer since you’ve seen him in person, but you recognize him all the same when he picks up. “Butterfingers, how can we help?”

“Isn’t this your cell phone?”

Hansol pauses and you could swear he pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Hello?” he asks, almost disbelieving.

Years of childhood playdates and awkward teenage glances flood your memory and you instinctively tease him. “‘Hello?’ You and Liv are the same, I swear.”

“Aah, Y/N,” Hansol recovers, “That’s true, but we are related so.” There’s another beat and it’s so easy to imagine those brown eyes looking into yours, waiting for you to speak again. When you don’t, he offers, “Did you need something or…?”

You’re grateful that you opted to make the call from your car during your lunch break, far from eyes that could watch you shake thoughts of Hansol from the forefront of your mind. “Yeah, actually. My computer’s fucked up. Do you think I could bring it by the shop?”

“O-oh yeah, for sure, definitely! Yes!” He stops to clear his throat before continuing, almost like he’s grounding himself. “We close at 7 if you wanna drop by today.”

“Awesome, thanks Hansol. I’ll stop by after work.”

Butterfingers Repair is nestled between a smoke shop and a family-run tax office, just a handful of storefronts still open in a nondescript strip mall on the other side of town. No wonder you’ve never been here.

A local alt rock station plays on the wall mounted speakers, but there are no other signs of life when you come through the door. There’s no one behind the counter and with the staff door behind it closed, you have no idea who to expect to greet you. A few moments pass and you start getting second thoughts. Maybe you’re at the wrong location after all? Just as you take out your phone to double-check the address Hansol sent, the staff door swings open. “Hey! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Hansol has always been easy on the eyes. Watching him grow from clumsy kid to gawky teen to unpolished (but handsome) college student never changed that, but you’ll admit it’s been a while since you’ve really looked at him. Present day Hansol is taller than you, broad-shouldered, and hot, having fully grown into his features.

Fixing your laptop is suddenly your second priority. If you play your cards right – if you play Hansol right – you could accomplish a lot today. “Sounds like you guys need a receptionist.”

“Yeah, haha,” he laughs, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “It’ll be first on my list when I can afford the payroll.”

“Ooh, moving up to management, are we? That’s cool!”

“Well yeah, I mean–like it’s my shop. So, like, I’m the only employee right now.”

“You own this, though. I like that. You should be proud.”

“Thanks,” Hansol hums, shifting to pointedly stare at your laptop bag and avoid your gaze. “What’s going on? How can I help?”

You keep your tone casual, giving him some grace for the painful redirect.” Right, so I kinda sorta spilled water on my laptop. It was just – c’mon don’t look at me like that, you haven’t even seen it yet. It was just a few days ago and I flipped it to try and let it dry but…” Placing it on the counter and tapping the power button confirms no improvements since you last checked. The keyboard lights up and the fan whirs, but there’s nothing on the screen.

Hansol’s shaking his head before he even speaks. “Even after it fully dries, you’re gonna need a new display.”

“Can you do it?”

“Yeah, for sure. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

He grimaces through his words, clearly pained by the idea of telling you anything you might not be ready to hear. “It’s probably gonna be expensive. You sure you want a quote?”

“Mm, less of a want, more of a need.”

“Gotcha…” Hansol needs a moment to decide on whatever options are running through his mind. You afford it to him and are pleased when he hops the counter to go lock the front door. “Come on back, Y/N,” he says without looking at you, breezing past to unlock the staff door and usher you in.

Hansol seems almost relieved to be focused on your machine as the two of you sit in his humble workshop. You’ve helped yourself to the folding chair next to his, asking “well where else can I wait, Vern?” when your knees touch under the table and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

You’d planned to chat him up to help pass the time, but watching Hansol work proves to be rightfully interesting. He’s surprisingly nimble with his hands, carefully removing endless screws and drying any damp parts he finds as he goes. “So,” he finally explains, breaking you out of a trance, “the water damage actually isn’t that bad. The new screen’s gonna hurt, though. This is a nice pc, you’ve got.”

At last, he’s given you the opening you’ve been waiting for. “How much will it hurt, exactly?”

“After parts and labor, like $700.”

“That’s not bad.” And it’s really not, compared to your last quote. But you want more. “Got a friends and family discount for me, by chance?”

“Oh, uh, friends and–um–?” Hansol fumbles, flustered yet again at having to potentially tell you no. “I don’t normally–”

You’ve known Hansol long enough to gauge when it’s best to strike and his forehead’s got OPPORTUNITY written on it. You maneuver into his lap sideways, anchoring an arm around his neck and finding his eyes through his fringe, smiling wickedly as he visibly short circuits. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, with one hooking under your knee and the other jumping like he’s been burned when his fingers skitter across your leg that’s barely covered by your skirt in this position. “Can’t you make an exception for me, Vernon?”

Hansol is desperately trying not to drop you while also surviving this dream? interaction. The nickname you reserve for when you really want something seems to electrocute him and the fingers hooked under your knees press into your skin. “I can waive the cleaning fee, n-no worries,” he soldiers on, his hand still trying and failing to find a way to support your hip without outright holding it. “I-It’s the display replacement that’s, uh–” you shift in his lap, “accidentally” grinding against his crotch, “–screens are kinda pricey, y-you know what I mean?”

It’s difficult to hide just how fun this pursuit is and even harder to ignore the dampness in your panties. Knowing that you’re this close to fulfilling a fantasy already has all of your blood going south. “I think I can offer you something pricey. Do you know what I mean?”

“You’re worth way more than a screen, Y/N.” Hansol is delightfully flushed, but his tone is earnest. “You’re priceless.”

“That’s really cute. You’re really cute, you know that?”

Hansol tries to laugh away his nerves, but the sound he makes is more distressed than anything. “Thanks. I really – like really – like you. I’m into you, I mean.”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest before you can stop yourself. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Wanna show me?”

“Show you? I-I mean, yeah! Of course, I’d love to– I mean, I want to. Shit.”

“Take a breath for me.”

“Y-You’re right, sorry.” Hansol grasps you harder and breathes in through his nose, closing his eyes. He opens them again on the exhale and bores right into yours. His expression is determined mixed with something you’ve never seen in him before. It’s too new for you to place it yet, but whatever it is, it’s the sexiest you’ve seen him yet. “Yeah, I can show you. I really want to.”

Using the hand that’s wrapped around Hansol’s shoulder, you tug at his hair to expose his neck. The smell of his cologne hits you with full force and your eyes roll while you kiss his bare skin. Hansol wastes no time even as he shivers under your touch, gently guiding your leg to the side so he can reach your clothed core. The angle is a bit weird like this, halfway between his lap and the floor, but the inelegance is forgotten when he moves your panties to the side and teases your opening with two fingers.

For the first time all evening, you’re the one who seems surprised. Hansol’s cold fingers feel incredible as they gather wetness from your folds. You gasp at the sensation and outright moan when he experimentally licks your essence from them before thoroughly sucking the digits dry. “That’s so fucking good, wow,” he marvels more to himself than to you.

Hansol’s fingers return to your entrance and he pushes them in slowly when he finds no resistance. “Shit,” he gasps, awestruck by the pressure of your walls.

“Shit,” you gasp alongside him, enjoying how his fingers curl into you. Your earlier vibrato is nowhere to be found, replaced with a need for Hansol that you’ve been repressing for what feels like a lifetime.

You continue on like this, with Hansol swearing at the ceiling even as he causes you to melt against him. He’s happy to enjoy the way you wriggle against him as he brings you closer to your end. Your orgasm builds quickly and just as you’re about to succumb to his ministrations, his fingers are gone. A frustrated whine leaves you before you can stop yourself. “No, please!”

Hansol doesn’t explain at first, just removes you from his lap so you can take his place while he kneels between your legs under the table.”This is better,” he declares.

This is even sexier than you could have imagined, but having your orgasm ripped away still leaves you pouty. “Is it? I was about to cum.”

“Oh. My bad.” Hansol supplies no other commentary and leans in to apologize to your pussy instead. You want to be annoyed at him, but your reprimand morphs into a breathless moan when his tongue replaces the spot his digits once occupied.

Ever-diligent, Hansol makes up for lost time immediately. He eats you out like this might be his only chance to, like he wants to imprint this exact moment into your memory. The man only pulls away when he absolutely has to for air, taking huge breaths before diving back in to test the limits of his lung capacity. It’s not until you cum twice and he tries to return to your swollen lips for a third time that you realize he’s content to keep you here indefinitely if it means drinking up more of the nectar that’s creaming around your entrance.

“Hansol!” You have to yank him away before your brain 404s from overstimulation.

He scoots closer to rest his head in your lap, dopey grin on his face. “Hansol, no Vern? That means I did really good.”

Rolling your eyes, you card your fingers through his hair to gaze upon him unobstructed. Hansol is striking in this position between your legs, mouth and chin wet with arousal. “Yeah, really good.. I need a break though, sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? That was awesome!” For all of his stuttering and nervousness, Hansol is shockingly casual now. It’s as if getting to taste you was the hint he needed that you liked him as much as he liked you. “Want me to replace your screen, still?”

Right, the laptop repair. It feels silly to talk about this with the smell of your sex in the air, but you follow his lead. “Yes, please. Don’t worry about the discount, I was just kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” Hansol finally crawls from under the table and stretches. He’s not shy about adjusting the bulge in his pants though he makes no mention of it. “About liking you, I mean. I can waive the rest of this, it’s no big deal.” Your intention was never to genuinely trade sex for repairs - especially when you’re the only one to be serviced so far. The thought must be written all over your face because he continues, “I was going to knock down the price for you before all this anyway, seriously. We’ll just count this as a courtesy repair. Sound good?”

“Are you sure?” you ask, eyes darting to his dickprint and then back up to his face.

It’s Hansol’s turn to laugh at how uncertain you seem, enjoying the irony of how your roles seem to have reversed. “I’m sure.”

Thirty minutes and a thorough cloth bath later, Hansol slides your open laptop in front of you. “Go ahead and sign in. Let’s make sure everything works.”

Even though you watched the repair in real time, it feels like magic when you type in your password and your lock screen falls away. That fascination immediately becomes mortification when the last window you had open reminds you of how you got here.

There’s no missing the cock in the video thumbnail or the header above it that reads Giving my sister’s best friend a creampie.

“Oh!” Hansol exclaims simply as his eyebrows shoot up.

“Don’t!” you yell, slamming the laptop shut. “It’s not what it looks like!”

“I kinda like what it looked like, though… Can we?”

“I–well. Maybe. Sure. Yeah.”

“Only if you want to.”

“I want to.”

“Ok cool.”

“Cool.”

#svthub #kvanity #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #svt x reader #vernon smut #hansol smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #vernon fic #svt fic #seventeen fic

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weirdmageddon · 9 months ago

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the shift in lore literacy in homestuck’s fandom

i was thinking about how the people who got into homestuck after it ended—whose interactions with the comic are in a static, archived state, not an ongoing thing—missed out on information that was more common knowledge in the fandom at that time. i don’t know if this is true since i’m not on tiktok, but i wouldn’t be surprised if it was. the fandom certainly isn’t the same as it was before.

ive found that many people reading homestuck now simply do not understand things in homestuck that were common knowledge back in the day, with calls for “homestuck literacy classes to become mandatory” in response to baffling takes because so many people just now seem to have glazed over the comic without absorbing important plot points, and i think i know why this may be. i ended up writing a post reflecting on my time with the comic, my perspective and how ive seen this change. i still think and write about homestuck because it still fascinates me. earlier i quote retweeted that call in my thread talking about the temporal relativity of dave and rose’s god tier ascension in the green sun, saying “my homestuck literacy is 100% so guess im doing my part as a teacher by pointing out whatever i think is really cool about it”. this post im writing now started out as a reply to this tweet i got in response.

i joined the fandom in 2013. i was 11. i had been aware of it since at least late 2011, early 2012 when my friend ryan in fifth grade told me to read it but i couldn’t get past the first few pages. i remember writing a journal on deviantart around this time (late 2011-early 2012) that was mocking people who typed like gamzee, which ironically was very karkat of me. and i remember someone on flipnote hatena i was following was making flipnotes with the alpha kids.

i dont know what caused me to flip the switch into reading it but 2013. i got into it somewhere between april (i think closer to april—i remember it being quite a span of time between the last update before HOMOSUCK dropped.) this was the most recent page the comic, meaning there was no > [S] ACT 6 ACT 6 at the bottom.

i got into it during a pause in updates, which looking into it, was the year 4 megapause. i wasn’t sure of the month until seeing the news post detailing the reason for the hiatus and the status report of the comic’s development at that time. pretty cool i could narrow it down by referencing the dates of those updates and the news post to correspond with the pause!

according to readmspa, the year 4 megapause was a 59 day hiatus from Apr 14, 2013 ==> (EOA6A5) running to 12 Jun 2013, [S] ACT 6 ACT 6. then for a few months there were the first updates that i was apart of the fandom for.

and what an exciting time during the story get into the webcomic! when the updates resumed in june, part 4 of homestuck had begun. here was a glimpse of the updates in that span of time before the next hiatus began in october.

that hiatus was none other than the gigapause, the longest hiatus in the comic, which started october 2013 and lasted for a YEAR, and i already posted about what happened on the date of return.

but here were the main events happening in the story at the time i first actually got interested in it. i wasn’t aware of the full context of them then like i am now, but i was looking at the most recent updates anyway with interest:

the alpha kids just emerged as god tiers from their slabs in derse and prospit, blown up by the condesce and caliborn / lil cal-possessed b2 jack noir.

the journey to the new session started 24 hours after jack called an early reckoning in descend—for context that was about when dave entered around midnight central time and before jade even entered. it’s pretty easy to forget that side 1 of homestuck basically happens within the span of a single day—and at this point in the story, the 3 year journey (which was also 3 real life years) had just ended. john and jade emerged from the other side of the yellow yard through the fenestrated plane on LOMAX. john’s real body was asleep upon arrival in the new session, while his dreaming projection out in the dream bubbles came across vriska’s ghost ship to learn lord english lore with vriska and aranea, and go on the treasure hunt where they found the ultimate weapon at the X mark out in in the furthest ring. in the dream john stuck his hand in the juju, started warping all over canon which removed his real body from the ship on LOMAX. he zapped around for a while but eventually zapped back to LOMAX, now awake, completely out of the loop of what everyone else is up to, and bored as fuck. what was everyone else getting up to while john was asleep?

jade was now once again within the domain of the green sun. im pretty sure her space god doggy essence comes with the power to sense what was anywhere within the domain of the session since her face looks like she arrived at that spot with intent (and she literally has jack noir’s exact powers from bec’s prototyping. also this panel). she immediately dispatched b2 jack to the edge of the incinisphere, defending the newly god-tiered jane and jake. i think even if they weren’t in any danger, she would have warped to them instantly anyway because she COULD now, and i can imagine she wouldve been sooooo eager to meet everyone. even davesprite comments about her rapid departure.

the pre-scratch refugees arrived during the only time serious shit ever went down in the nobles’ months-long inert void session. the condesce used her freak psychic bronze-cerulean powers to commune with jade’s bestial side and mind controlled her, which is super dangerous as someone with the powers of a first guardian. she then used jade’s powers to corrupt jane with the tiaratop. no funtime meetup allowed!

the trolls’ meteor with rose, dave, and the remaining trolls was pulling up into the new session with no way to slow it down. grimbark jade warped there once it was in the incinisphere and took active control. she warped everyone off the trolls’ meteor and sent them to LOMAX.

as john was losing his mind on LOMAX waiting for everyone, the meteor crew warped in. after 3 years he finally reunited with rose and dave, and at least saw the trolls in person. close curtains, end of A6A5. this was the newest [S] flash page at the time, one of my first impressions of this comic, and still one of my favorite flashes. knowing the context of the flash in the story only enhances the retrospective joy i have at getting into the comic at the time i did because it’s such an anticipated moment in the story for everyone, while for someone with no context of the story it was still enjoyable.

so that’s what was going on plotwise when i joined the fandom.

from this time, through those few months of updates and through the gigapause, i was familarizing myself with the characters in the story and overseeing the state of fanbase, getting myself acquainted with the story and wrapping my head around everything.

at that time i found that a new-ish group called colab HQ who were producing a let’s read homestuck series on youtube. hearing the voices and the pacing of it like that really, really eased me into it (maybe it was my adhd that gave me trouble actually starting it?). i caught up to a certain point using lets read homestuck and from that point was able to continue with the comic on my own, and by the time the gigapause came to a close i was fully caught up. i remember the rebranding of colab hq into voxus about a year and a half after i discovered them.

but.. back to the main point of my post. even these posts from hussie’s tumblr exist in archived states. how many new fans know about hussie’s old tumblr? i don’t know, unless theyre a new fan that must scour the internet for more deep more dives on homestuck and its fandom as a whole. but since hussie deleted his tumblr (it exists archived now on homestuck.net which, alongside from the unofficial homestuck collection, has nearly singlehandedly kept the most important relics of the fandom and lore archived), that page is not an active part of the fandom now, because it’s gone. it’s a pile of bones. it’s not living and breathing. it’s in an archived state. the whole thing is already there. homestuck and its fandom history is something you now binge instead of slowly consume and meld with as it comes out. it’s now this rapid information intake that you might forget about if you read it now instead of engaged alongside it. you’re not surrounded by people actively talking and theorizing about developments anymore. the ability to have those sorts of conversations during the ongoing development of the story reinforced concepts, ideas, and lore over and over as we tried to make sense of it.

being in a fandom when the author is still delivering the story is like nothing else. it allows you grow alongside the characters and engage meaningfully with the media and people in the fandom space around you. it feels like you’re participating IN the media itself, especially if you’re interfacing with the creator. it’s in always having something to theorize or talk about and speculate. and people become very aware of these sorts of forgotten story facts because they were applying the logic of the newest official post from hussie into making their sburb ocs or something and share resources and discussion posts about “what just happened in this update?? recap????” it was this cultural osmosis thing. i think this is why homestuck literacy is now at an all time low, at least from what i can see on twitter.

reading homestuck then vs now is like the difference between serialized shows with spaces between episodes to discuss stuff and time to reflect and learn and become attached to the story, narrative, worldbuilding and its characters, vs the netflix model where it’s all dropped all at once and people forget about it after binging.

at this point in time im getting the sense that “homestuck elders” now are no longer just people who were there since 2009-2010, but now also people who were there while it was still updating, probably stretching into 2014-2015. there are many sources of lore that were common knowledge in the fandom at the time that, since becoming susceptible to the deletion of content and link rot, and with the thanosing of mspaforums, are no longer accessible at the source. and a lot of people moved on after it ended, especially following the epilogues, the kate drama, and the whatpumpkin-sarah z drama, leaving a void of information behind if not for archivists and people such as me who continue to keep old facts relevant in discussions. my friend has called me a fandom scholar before and seeing this post i think i get what they mean.

EDIT: there is a series of video essays ive watched multiple times (because theyre that good) and they are exactly what modern fans need to see more of. they really help contextualize the comic and the themes present in it help you appreciate the basic fabric of homestuck a hell of a lot more. i highly recommend them and encourage any fan of homestuck to watch them, or someone considering getting into homestuck to watch the first one.

i think this is arguably as close to the “mandatory literacy class for homestuck” that person was talking about as you can get, especially the first video.

additionally, there is also the website https://rafe.name/homestuck which is essentially a sparknotes for homestuck and can help you follow developments in the comic itself.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck fandom #mine

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aemondsbabe · 1 year ago

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Praise | Taunt Part 2

summary: michael has been tutoring you for weeks and the closer you get to him, the stronger your feelings seem to grow but does he feel the same way about you?

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, profanity, dirty talk, breast/nipple play, teasing, degradation/dumbification, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex (technically the reader is on birth control but it's not mentioned in this part), angst (michael is in his sad boy hours for a lil bit), creampie, light cum play, light choking, daddy kink, dom/sub vibes, discussions of mathematics, michael being a lil clueless (aw, bless) -- let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 9.8k i will not apologize, i am not sorry

a/n: i have to say, i've grown so attached to this little pairing and i hope y'all love them as much as i do!

TAUNT | Part 1

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Fuck this,” you mutter, jaw clenched as you yank over the next page of your statistics textbook, practically ripping the page as you flip it over. You can’t help but grumble, each page of notes you flip through only adding to your foul mood as you hunch over your desk, numbers and letters swimming together in your vision. “Ugh!” You toss your pencil down, rubbing your temples as it clatters across the desk before falling to the floor.

“Oi!” Louise sits up against the pillows on your bed across the room, tugging off a headphone as she looks at you, resting her own textbook on her lap, “You doin’ alright, babe?”

“I’m gonna fail the final,” You groan, head in your hands, “I’m gonna fail it, and then fail out of Oxford, and then I’ll have to go back home and then my parents will kill me.”

“You’re not gonna fail,” she sighs, pushing herself up so her legs dangle over the bed, “You’ll be fine. You were so worried about that last quiz and you nearly got a perfect score, remember?”

You let out a petulant whine, one you’d be embarrassed about if your head wasn’t pounding, and lean back on your wooden desk chair, bleary eyes staring up at the ceiling. “That was before we started consumer mathematics,” you lament, chest heaving with a sigh, “I have no hope now.”

You can feel Louise jokingly roll her eyes behind you when she huffs out a laugh as she slips off your bed, coming to stand behind you, her face upside down as she looks down at you, a hand on her hip. “Why don’t you just text Michael? I thought he’s been helping you.”

Just hearing his name makes your heart feel funny in your chest and you sigh, sitting back up before turning to look at your friend, “It’s…complicated.” Inwardly, you can’t help but cringe at yourself; the situation is anything but complicated and yet it somehow feels impossible.

“Explain,” Louise commands, leaning back against your desk with her arms crossed across her chest. She laughs when you groan, pushing your shoulders back from where you’ve curled in on yourself, forcing you to look at her, “Babe, I love you, but it’s Michael Gavey. How on Earth is that man ‘complicated?’” She asks, cocking her hip as she does air quotes with her hands.

“Because I like him!” You blurt out after a second, hiding your face in your hands, “I like him and I don’t think he likes me and every damn time we study, we just end up fucking and I can’t keep fucking him because I like him!” The words rush out of you before you have time to think about them, your whole body deflating like a balloon as you release weeks worth of tension.

Your head snaps up in shock when Louise giggles, your mouth hanging open even as the corners of your lips threaten to quirk up into a smile. “How dare you!” You admonish, playfully slapping at her hip, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and you laugh!”

“Sorry, sorry!” She shakes her head, breathily laughing as she tries to get herself under control, “I’m sorry! I just…what do you mean he doesn’t like you? That man is in love.”

“What?” Your eyes narrow as you stare up at her, “How do you know? I’ve tried flirting with him and he doesn’t ever seem to respond to it.”

At this, Louise shakes her head and shoots you a concerned look, “I don’t think he’s the type to get flirting, hon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you honestly think anyone has ever flirted with him?” Louise asks, giving you a pointed look, “I don’t have anything against the guy, but come on. You’re gonna have to hit him over the head with it.”

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce; in your weeks of getting to know Michael, you’d learned that while he wasn’t clueless, he was definitely not as experienced as he had first appeared, “That still doesn’t mean he likes me, though.” You point out, raising an eyebrow at your friend.

“Do you really not see the way he looks at you?” She smirks, “I’ve said two words to the man but, trust me, he is smitten, babe.”

You look away, biting at your bottom lip as you think over what she had to say. Your eyes scan over the surface of your desk, unfocused, as thoughts bounce around your head. Louise simply pats your shoulder before going back to your bed, resting on her stomach as she resumes reading through her book.

You’re quiet for a moment before your eyes land on your phone, sitting temptingly on the corner of your desk. You glance back and forth between it and the still-opened textbook in front of you, frustration rising in your chest once again at the mere sight of the various formulas on the pages. Finally, with a sigh, you grab your phone and flip it open, quickly scrolling to Michael’s contact.

“U busy now?” You text quickly, pressing send before you have a chance to second guess yourself before setting the phone down quickly, practically dropping it on the desk as if it were burning you.

Not even a minute later, although it feels like an eternity, it vibrates. You hesitate for a second, tempted to just slog your way through this chapter on your own. Finally, you sigh and reach for your phone, not wanting to sacrifice your newly-improved grade or your situationship with Michael.

“In my room. Why?” He replies, always concise and to the point.

“Need help w the new chap,” you type, biting your lip as you shuffle through letters on the small keyboard, “Can I come over?”

“Sure, see you soon.” His reply comes quickly, making your heart race.

With a nervous sigh, you push yourself up from your chair, groaning as you take a second to stretch before striding over to your small dresser. “I’m going to his,” you say, glancing over at Louise, “I’m officially waving the white flag on this chapter.”

“Wear lingerie!” She says quickly, practically skipping over to you and leaning against the wall next to you.

“What?” You laugh, shooting her a questioning look, “Why would I do that?”

“Duh!” She huffs with an eye roll, “Put in some effort to fuck him and it might help get the message across.”

“How do you know we’ve been–”

“Your room is right next to mine,” she points out, looking at you tiredly, “And the walls in this ancient building are thin as paper. Come on.”

“Okay, okay,” you put your hands up in surrender with a laugh before pulling open your underwear drawer; as convoluted as Louise’s plan was, you couldn’t exactly see a downside to fancying up a little, “Any suggestions?”

“Hmm,” she hums, shuffling through the small pile of fancy lace you had shoved in the corner of the drawer, “Ooh, these!” She chimes victoriously, holding up a lacy bra, “This color always looks so good on you, you’ll make his head explode.”

With a nod, you grab the bra and matching underwear from her, “If this doesn’t help, I will be holding you personally accountable.” You laugh, seeing her politely turn away from you in the corner of your eye as you begin pulling your clothes off.

“I mean, it is still on you to actually say something,” she chuckles, peering out the window as she waits for you to change, “Honestly, if it was me, I would’a locked that shit down ages ago. The sounds I hear coming from this room…” She jokes, shaking her head.

“Sounds?” You ask, your face flushing as you hurriedly clasp the thin bra behind your back, “You can hear us?”

“You two are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” she laughs, “I mean, who would’ve thought that little nerd had it in him?”

“He has hooked up with people,” you defend, pulling on a t-shirt and skirt, short enough that you knew it would make the blond’s head spin, “He’s not totally helpless.”

“Hookups are different than boyfriend dick,” Louise points out, shuffling back on your bed until her back was resting against the wall next to it, “And based on all the screams I hear from you, Michael has boyfriend dick.”

With a laugh, you roll your eyes, not even bothering to question her as you shove your things into your backpack. Sitting down at your desk chair, you pull your small mirror over and give your hair and makeup one last look over, glancing back at Louise as she continues, “I mean, come off it, babes. You don’t even make those noises by yourself.”

“You can hear me?!” You squeak out, whipping your head around.

“The walls are paper thin!” She laughs, “I’m sure you can hear me too, and everyone else. You honestly think that doesn’t go both ways?”

“Ha ha,” you say dryly, slipping on your shoes before standing and grabbing your keys from the small hook next to the door of your room, “I’m going, can you lock my door when you leave?”

“Yup!” Louise chirps, not bothering to look up from her phone as she waves you off, “Go get that nerd dick!”

With a sigh and an eye roll, you pull your door closed.

You make it to Michael’s in record time and pause in front of his door, giving yourself a minute to calm down before you nervously knock.

Almost instantly, the door swings open. The thought that he might’ve been perched next to it, waiting for you to show up, makes your chest squeeze as you murmur a hello.

“Hiya, pretty.” He says lowly as you move past him, closing the door and watching as you dump your backpack by his bed. His room wasn’t much different than most other guy’s dorms you’d been in – sparsely decorated with only the essentials, although you did appreciate the posters and pictures Michael had hanging up. There were all sorts of different ones pinned to the dark wooden walls, from bands he liked to small polaroids of his pets from home. Every time you were here, though, your heart couldn’t help but hurt a little as you never saw pictures similar to some of the ones you had up – ones with friends.

“Needed some help from little old me?” He teases.

“Yes, oh my God!” You sigh, your dramatics making him crack a smile as he takes a seat at his desk, “This new chapter is doing my head in!”

“Alright, alright love,” he murmurs, signature smirk poised on his lips as his blue eyes peer at you from behind his glasses, “Get your things, I’ll see if I can help.”

With a nod, you pull your notebook from your backpack as he turns to the chapter in his own textbook. As you move, you can’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye, taking in everything from the dark red t-shirt he wore, complete with a cheesy maths pun on the front, to how ruffled his golden hair was, like he’d just woken up from a nap. Maybe the light was playing tricks on you, but you swore you saw him glance over at you a time or two too.

“Haven’t heard much from you this week,” you start, pulling up the extra chair he kept in a corner of his dorm room, “How’ve you been? Oh! And how did that paper for your calculus class turn out?” You ask, glancing at him as you flip through the pages of your notebook, looking for where you’d left off.

“Oh, yeah,” he clears his throat, leaning an elbow on his desk, “The paper was great, actually. Thank you for your help by the way,” his lips curve up in a sheepish grin, “I’ve always been a bit shit at writing.”

“Yeah, no problem,” try to ignore the way your stomach twists at his gratitude, “I’ve always been shit at maths so it works out.” You joke, pride filling your chest when he chuckles. The longer you’d spent working with Michael, the more comfortable the two of you became, and slowly but surely he’d let his guard down. He was still the same cocky, downright arrogant prick in class but when it was just the two of you, you couldn’t help but notice that he’d grown…softer. Those sharp, taunting edges of his had been smoothed a little, sanded down by jokes he shared with you rather than sarcastic jabs directed at you.

“Mmm,” he hummed, those blue eyes you’d grown so enamored with sparkling with mirth, like he was always just one step ahead of you, “Don’t sell yourself short, baby. You’ve improved a lot,” your cheeks flush and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life, whirling around wildly at the simple compliment, “Not nearly as much of a dummy as you were a few weeks ago, yeah?” He finishes, lips tugged up in a viciously smug smile as he watches the way your eyes grow wide, the way the pink hues making their home on the apples of your cheeks bloom ever brighter, extending almost all the way to your neck.

“Michael,” your voice is hoarse as you croak his name, desperately willing your mind to stay on track, “C-Can we focus on the notes, please? I really do need help, I mean maybe later we can–”

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” he says, blessedly cutting off your nervous babbling, “What’s giving you problems, pretty?”

“Uhh,” you fumble, kicking yourself internally as you scramble to reset your brain, “The stuff we went over last week,” you flip through your notes, finally pointing your pen at the hastily scribbled notes you’d taken in class, “The monthly investment stuff; I guess the formula Professor Davies went over just seems really complicated to me. Like, I was having a really hard time following it in class with the way he was explaining it.”

Michael nods his head as he listens, his eyes quickly scanning over your notes before flitting to the accompanying pages in his nextbook as he lets out a sigh. “Ahh, okay,” his fingers brush over yours as he takes your pen, once again sending your mind into a flurry as you blink, desperately trying to clear the fog that seemed so determined to invade your brain, “So, remember the compound interest formula we went over earlier?”

You nod as he peers over at you, admittedly only halfway listening as your heart hammers in your chest. “Uhm, y-yeah,” you nearly whisper before clearing your throat, “Yeah.” You nod once more, trying to keep your voice steady as you watch him scrawl notes on your paper; your eyes glaze over as you observe the way his long fingers hold your pen, making it all too easy to imagine those same fingers sliding into your mouth and holding your tongue down as he whispers filthy things into your ear, skirting their way into your underwear and curling just right against –

“It works similarly,” Michael continues, hunched over the textbook as he copies down a sample problem, “So, the monthly investment formula is basically just the yearly salary over twelve months. I think the formula is getting to you, but it’s not really that complicated in practice.”

You nod your head dutifully, his voice sounding muffled to your ears as your thoughts continue spiraling, lewd thoughts of his fingers and cock playing like a video on the backs of your eyes. He hands the pen back to you as he finishes copying down the question, gazing at you expectantly as you look over the problem.

“Okay, so, uhm,” you stammer, eyes desperately scanning over the page as if the answer will magically reveal itself to you, “So…you’d divide these…?” You ask timidly, already knowing you’re wrong.

“You aren’t paying attention at all, love,” he says, not even needing to question it as he shakes his head in mock disappointment, “What’s going on in that pretty head, hm? What got you so distracted?” He rasps, one hand moving up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, even that simple action damn near causing you to whimper.

“I don't,” you swallow, mouth dry as your eyes flutter shut for a half second before reluctantly meeting his, heart pounding wildly in your chest as the smirk on his face makes a graceful reappearance when he sees the glazed over, near empty look on your face, “I don’t know.” You finish finally, voice breathy despite your best efforts.

“Hmm,” he hums again, trailing that hand down your neck and the side of your arm before finally letting it rest atop the thigh closest to him, his touch practically burning your skin, “I think I have a pretty good idea of what’s taken over that empty fuckin’ head.”

Before you even have a chance to reply, his hands are on your hips. He firmly pulls you into his lap, lithe frame disguising his true strength as he settles you atop his thighs.

“Michael, I–”

“Hush,” he commands softly, warm hands skirting over your waist as he tugs you back into him, your back pressing into the familiar expanse of his chest once again, “I know exactly how to help, pretty girl.” He whispers, his breath fanning over your cheek before he presses a light kiss there, trailing them down over the side of your neck as his hands slip under the bottom of your t-shirt. His touch makes shivers cascade down your spine as you feel his hands ghost over your stomach before they cup your breasts; he lets out a pleased hum when he feels the delicate lace of your bra, which does nothing to hide your already pebbled nipples as they press against the palms of his hands.

“I think,” he continues, chuckling darkly when he already hears small whines escaping past your lips as he continues massaging your breasts, “You need that wet little cunt played with, hm? I know she’s already dripping, pretty.” His voice is rough as he speaks, his hips grinding up into you, making you mewl on his lap as you feel his cock already poking against you even through the jeans he wears.

“P-Please,” you whine brokenly, embarrassed to already be reduced to such a state, “Please, Michael, I need…fuck, I need something, anything, please!” You’re used to begging for him by now, the two of you have hooked up enough over the past few weeks that you know he loves how whimpery and desperate you get, loves to hear the little hitch in your voice when you beg and plead with him so.

“Not Michael,” he grunts, roughly pinching at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra, just enough to make you cry out and squirm on his lap, “Try again.”

“Oh–,” you gasp, unable to stop the way your hips desperately wriggle on his lap, tantalized by the feel of him, even through all the layers of clothing between you, “Sir! Sir, please!”

He huffs out a laugh, low and raspy in your ear as he trails one hand up, poking it through the collar of your shirt to wrap it lightly around your throat – not enough to choke you, but just enough to remind you of your place. “Someone must be feeling extra stupid today, hm? Haven’t been sir in weeks, love, you know that.”

A hungry whine claws its way past your lips as your head tilts back onto his shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut as your cheeks heat up, trembling in his lap. This has been his favorite part, experimenting with that one little name it takes so much for you to say. It’s funny really, eventually he’d admitted to only hearing it in a porno, not something he could attribute to his string of experiences with one night stands. You’d just been the first person he’d been intrigued about enough to try it on; he was hooked the moment he saw your reaction and had slowly worked it into your little routine, requiring you to day it, to beg him so prettily with it, before he’d ever give you what you wanted.

“Come on now,” he groans, the movements of your hips finally getting to him, “Tell me what I want to hear and I’ll keep this precious cunt occupied so that that little head can work properly.” His hand abandons your breast, a laugh rumbling through him at your cries as he trails it up one thigh, slipping it under the bottom of your skirt.

“Daddy!” You finally blurt out, the ache in your core finally growing too big for you to keep denying, “Please, daddy, please, just… fuck, just do something!”

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he coos, half laughing as he slips his hand up under your skirt, cupping your throbbing center over the thin lace of your panties, groaning when he feels how hot and wet you are under his touch, “No wonder you can’t think straight, hm? So messy.”

You whimper helplessly in his lap, hands scrabbling before they tightly cling to the forearm he has halfway under your skirt. “Oh, fuck,” you breathe heavily, head swimming as his fingers press down on your aching clit before circling the bud slowly, the lace of your underwear only adding to the fire building within you, “Oh, my God!”

Michael grunts lowly into your ear as he twirls his fingers against you, nipping at your neck as he rocks against you from below. “Here’s how this is gonna go, love,” he whispers lowly, speeding up the movements of his long fingers against you, “If you can get the formula right, you can come…”

“Wha–!” You splutter, your chest already heaving as you struggle to catch your breath, nails digging into his forearm as you feel the knot in your stomach already beginning to tighten; Michael had made it his mission over the last few weeks to learn every little thing that made you tick, and Christ, if he wasn’t a fast learner, “T-That’s not–”

“If you can’t get it right,” he continues, smirking against your cheek as he presses his fingers ever tighter into the column of your throat, “Then I’ll just keep edging and edging you until I’ve gotten my fill of those precious fucking noises you make, hm?”

You struggle in his hold, not getting very far as his touch has already reduced your muscles to jelly. Your hips keep rutting up into his fingers despite your feeble attempts to stop yourself, knowing he absolutely means to make good on his threats. With a defeated whine, you let your head loll to the side on his shoulder, burying your face against the pale expanse of his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you breathe in his now-familiar scent, although that only serves to put you more on edge.

Michael suddenly moves, sitting up straighter in his desk chair and bringing you with him, causing you to yelp a bit. He keeps a steady hold on you as he leans forward, his fingers never ceasing their circular movements on your aching clit as he tilts you forward, angling your head so you’re once again face-to-face with the textbook and notes still laid out on the desk.

“Now,” he starts, resting his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scan over the pages in front of you both, seemingly wholly unbothered with your current state, “What’s the first step?”

You can feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears as you blearily look over the paper, your eyes not really focusing on anything as you feel the knot in your stomach pull tighter and tighter with each movement of his hands against you.

“M-Michael, I–” Your voice sticks in your throat, your hips moving entirely of their own accord in his lap as your walls clench desperately around nothing, that familiar growing ache nearly taking over your entire center as your breath hitches.

“Ooh,” he murmurs with saccharine sympathy, quickly pulling his fingers from you just before you fall over the edge; you can feel him smirking wickedly against your cheek as you twitch against him, letting out mournful little whines, “That was a close one, wasn’t it, pretty girl?”

The room feels as if it’s spinning as you come down from your almost-high, your walls throbbing as low cries slip past your lips. “F-Fuck…” you sigh hoarsly, hips still pathetically twitching against his jean-clad lap.

“I know you know this,” his breath is warm against your cheek as he angles his head toward yours, blond hair tickling the side of your face as he peers at you from behind his glasses, “Be a good fucking girl and tell me which step is first and I’ll touch you again.”

Your eyes frantically scan over the problem as you will yourself to remember something, anything, from one of Professor Davies’s lectures last week, your hands abandoning Michael’s forearm to white-knuckle the edge of his desk instead as you try to steady yourself.

“Y-You, uhm, you multiply,” you start, swallowing heavily as something finally seems to click together in your brain, “You multiply the exponents, daddy.”

You practically preen under his touch as you feel more so than hear the pleased hum he lets out. “Very good,” he drawls slowly, pressing soft kisses against your cheek, “See? I knew there was something going on in that head of yours.” You know he’s taunting you on purpose, pulling out every trick he knows will make you blush, though you can’t bring yourself to care as you feel your heart soar with his praises.

A loud moan tumbles past your lips as he resumes touching you, his fingers once again teasing your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, the aching bud now all the more sensitive to his touches after you were denied an orgasm. You nearly double over on his lap as pleasure immediately zings up your spine, your muscles tensing in his hold.

His hand abandons your throat and pulls out from under your shirt completely as he reaches for your pen and quickly scribbles down the first step of the formula, easily multiplying the numbers in his head before setting your pen back down.

“Now then, what’s next, love?” He chuckles meanly against your cheek as you whine. He groans appreciatively as he feels your arousal leaking into your panties, soaking the fabric against his fingers while his other hand comes up to cup your breast over your shirt, feeling your aching nipple pressing against his hand even through the fabric.

This game continues for what feels like an eternity, his fingers delicately teasing you right up to your breaking point before he cruelly yanks his hand away as he quizzes you again and again until you slowly but surely work your way through each step of the problem.

You’re a sweaty mess on his lap now, skin damp and flushed as he pulls his hand away for what must be the hundredth time, although in reality it’s only the fifth. You let out a feeble whine, long past begging and pleading as you know it won’t do any good.

“You’re so close,” he teases, chuckling to himself at the double meaning of his words, “Just need to solve it now, pretty baby. The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll make you come.” He promises, patting his fingers over the soaked patch on your panties just enough to make you jump.

“D-Daddy, please!” You sniffle, no longer trying to reign in the tears streaming down your cheeks as your center aches and clenches, empty, “Please, I need–”

“You need to answer the fucking question,” he grunts through clenched teeth, one hand still cupping your spasming center while the other shoots up to your neck, angling your head toward the paper once more, “You asked me for help, love. And I’d say this is helping; looks like that empty little brain is able to recall information after all.” He teases, smirking cruelly as he ruts against your ass, taunting you with his hard length yet again. “Come on,” he continues, urging you on, “You’re doing so, so well for daddy. Just need the last little bit.”

Your head spins as you look at the paper and you halfway wonder if your fingers have made intents in the wood of his desk yet, “It’s, it’s the yearly salary,” you say quickly, voice high-pitched and breathy, “T-The yearly salary over twelve, fuck, m-months.” You rush out, squeezing your eyes shut.

Somehow, more blood seems to rush to your cheeks as he gasps in fake surprise, really laying it on thick for you. “Oh, what a good girl!” He praises, arms wrapping around you tightly as you squirm in his hold, his warm body pressing against yours only making your need greater, “I knew you could do it, that’s right, love!”

Quickly, he multiplies the numbers you indicated, mumbling under his breath as he quickly thinks through the equation. A few seconds later, you hear your pen moving against the paper as he scribbles down your answer, circling it with an over-done flourish.

“You’ve done it!” He coos happily, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your cheek, trailing them down your jaw and neck, “You want your prize now?” He asks lowly, trailing his hand back up your thigh slowly, fingers just barely skimming over your throbbing center.

All at once, you seem to come back to yourself as the fog lifts momentarily behind your eyes as your desperation drives you. You nod your head frantically as you turn on his lap, finally facing him and relishing the sweet, proud smile spread across his lps.

“Please, Michael, daddy,” you ramble, pressing kisses against his cheeks and neck before he finally angles his head and catches your lips with his; the two of you sigh into the kiss, yours morphing into a desperate whine as you press your chest against his, shivering as your nipples peak from the warmth of his body alone. His tongue licks along your lower lip before he gently nips at it, chuckling as you mewl into his mouth as his tongue meets yours. You kiss him frantically, sighing happily when he delicately sucks your tongue into his mouth before you pull away with a whimper. “Please, please, I need it,” you murmur against his lips, clinging to his shoulders, “I can’t wait any longer, please!”

He shushes you with a soft laugh, hands skimming over your waist. “D’you want my mouth or my fingers, pretty girl?” He mutters softly, holding you steady on his lap.

“Mouth!” You answer instantly, making him chuckle at your desperation, “Please, please!”

“On the bed,” he commands, giving you one last kiss before pushing you up, helping to steady your shaky legs, “Good girl.” He praises again, patting your ass teasingly when you finally steady yourself enough to cross the room, stopping to kick off your shoes quickly before sitting yourself down on the bed.

Michael follows after you, smirking as he kneels on the bed, one foot still on the floor. He smiles and cups both of your cheeks, kissing you once more like he can’t get enough. “You, pretty girl, are very overdressed,” He drawls, waiting for your subtle nod before pulling your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor by the bed. “Holy…” his eyes are wide as he stares at your chest, taking in the way the delicate lace perfectly cups your breasts, nipples visible through the thin material, already hardened from his earlier ministrations.

Upon seeing his reaction, you get bold. Smirking, you pull up your skirt, spreading your legs as you draw your knees up to your chest, giving him a perfect view of your matching panties; the lace, long since soaked through with your arousal, practically glimmers in the low lamp-light of his room.

“Fuck,” he whispers, one hand adjusting his hard length, straining against his jeans as his blue eyes sweep over you, taking in every flawless inch, “To what do I owe the honor, hm?” He finally collects himself, smirking again as he reaches out to lightly skim a finger over the soft silk of one strap of your bra. He’s never seen you in something this nice, and certainly never a matching set, the sight of the soft lace against your skin would be enough to make him finish in his jeans if he weren’t careful.

“Wanted to wear something special for you…” You say with a small shrug, heat rising to your cheeks once again as you look up at him shyly through your lashes.

He tilts his head to the side, clearly not picking up on the deeper meaning behind your words as he squints his eyes at you, confused. “Why…why would you wanna wear something special for me, love?” He questions softly, his voice coming out more as a breath than words.

“Michael,” you sigh, squirming under his affectionate gaze as you gather every ounce of confidence in your body. You swallow as your eyes dart between his, your heart quickly speeding up in your chest; you take a deep breath, Louise’s words echoing in your head, “I…I really like you.” You say simply, carefully watching his reaction.

“You…do?” He asks slowly, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, his eyes widening as he watches you nod with a shy smile. “Why me?” His voice is smaller this time, his whole body seeming to deflate as he sits back on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped as one foot still rests against the wooden floor.

“Why wouldn’t I like you?” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, head cocking to the side as you move closer to him, placing a hand on his knee.

He sighs heavily, glancing up at you before looking down to where your hand rests on his leg, “No one really does.” He finally sighs, his eyes downcast.

Without thinking, you move closer to him, pressing yourself against him as you practically climb into his lap. This time, it’s your turn to gently cup his cheeks, your thumbs resting just under the gold rims of his glasses as you angle his head toward you. “I do,” you say softly before frowning a bit, pulling away just an inch, “Do…do you not feel the same way?”

“No!” He says quickly, shaking his head as he grabs at you, pulling you back toward him, “I mean yes! I mean,” he sighs frustratedly, running a hand through his hair as he swallows heavily, “I do like you, I– Fuck, I don’t know who I’m kidding, I’ve never liked anyone this much,” he says softly, smiling as he watches your eyes grow wide, “I just…never thought a girl like you would want much to do with me.”

“What does that mean?” You whisper, heart hammering so hard in your chest you’re sure he can hear it with as little distance as there is between the two of you.

“I…,” he pauses, chuckling bitterly, “I guess I always assumed you’d wind up with Catton or…or one of his little minions. Everyone does.”

“Everyone?”

He tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling for a second, like he’s willing himself to tell you some deep, dark secret. Finally, he fixes his gaze on you again, one hand fiddling with the seam at the bottom of your skirt. “He was my friend once,” he begins, his voice soft and uncertain, “I don’t think I ever meant much to him, he just took me in as some charity case. To help the weirdo loner boy, I guess.”

You stay silent as he pauses, watching him carefully as he speaks. The corners of his mouth twitch before finally dropping into a frown, his eyebrows pulling together as if he were in pain.

“I don’t know what happened in the end, to be honest,” he continues, blinking his eyes as he shuffles through memories, “I think maybe I wasn’t falling in line enough – I didn’t just blindly follow him like the others. He must’ve gotten tired of it cause one day I got to school and everyone just acted as if I wasn’t there, even mates I’d had before. They all just got pulled into his orbit and left me.”

“Michael…” you coo softly, thumbs lightly brushing over his cheeks.

“And then, one night I went to the pub with– with Oliver.” He practically spits his name, nose twitching with anger.

“Oliver?” You question, the name ringing a bell as your eyes narrow, trying to picture his face, “Oliver Quick, you mean?”

He nods, eyes flitting around his room before they settle on you again. “He was my friend…I thought he was anyway. Way back at the start of term,” he sighs, lips pulling up in a sardonic smile, “We went to the pub one evening to celebrate finally finishing some paper or whatever, and…you were there.”

“I was?” You pull back from him a fraction of an inch in shock, your eyes flitting over his face.

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding his head, “Sitting at a table with Catton and all the rest of the cunts.”

“Felix and I were never that close Mich–”

“And I got up to get another pint and when I got back…he was gone.” He continued, huffing out a bitter laugh.

“Oliver?”

“Yep,” he nods, hands gripping your waist more firmly as if he’s trying to anchor you to him, “He’d gone to sit with you lot and never so much as looked my way again. Then, once Professor Davies’s class started, I…Fuck, I liked you from the minute you walked through the door on the first day, love.”

“You did?” You smile at his confession, thinking back to all those months ago.

He hums again, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, glasses smushed against his cheek, “‘N then I realized where I knew you from and I…lost hope. Got jealous. Doesn’t matter I just…I was so determined not to like you.”

“But…you do?”

He hums again, nodding against your cheek, “I remember kicking myself when I agreed to tutor you,” he laughs, breath fanning over your neck and collarbone, “But you’re really not like them, hm?”

You shake your head emphatically, holding him tighter to you as if that will somehow better prove your point, “I’m not.” You say simply, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

The two of you stay silent for a moment before Michael’s shoulders start shaking a little; you pull back a bit, worried that he’s upset until you see he’s laughing, gazing at you as if you were some ethereal being. “I cannot believe you fucking like me,” he laughs, damn near giggling, “No one bloody likes me.”

You can’t help but laugh with him, leaning your forehead against his. “Well, fuck them,” you say firmly with a cheeky grin, “I like you enough for every damn idiot in this school.”

The two of you laugh together for another moment before you feel that familiar heat building in your belly again, never able to stave it off very long when you’re in his presence. Michael must feel it too, one second you’re laughing with him and the next his fingers are threading through the hair at the back of your head and pulling you in for a hard kiss, pressing his lips desperately against yours as if he’s trying to prove to himself you won’t disappear. You whimper softly as his tongue licks into your mouth, swallowing his groans as you move your lips fluidly against his before he pulls away quickly.

“Gotta fucking taste you, love,” he whispers roughly, hands blindly searching for the clasp of your bra. You feel it pop open a moment later, a low, victorious hum sounding from his chest as he finally pulls it off, tossing it off the bed to land next to your shirt, “Fuck, I love these tits.” He groans hotly, quickly kissing down your shoulder and chest before taking a pert nipple into his mouth, making you gasp loudly.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan, eyes squeezing shut as you finally feel his mouth on you, head spinning at the way his tongue teases over your sensitive nipple before he sucks it into his hot mouth, “Michael, please, need it!” You whine pitifully, rutting yourself down on his thigh.

He guides you back gently, coaxing you to lay down on his bed as his hands push up under your short skirt once more to quickly pull your panties down, tossing them over his shoulder. “Not Michael, baby, remember?” He asks teasingly, pushing your thighs up and hooking his hands behind your knees.

He guides your knees up and up until your knees are pressed against your chest, all the while pressing soft kisses to the backs of your thighs as he peers up at you over his gold-rimmed glasses, strands of blond hair resting against his forehead.

“Please, daddy!” You correct yourself quickly, not wanting to take any chances of him teasing you further. You wiggle your hips in his grasp, making him chuckle lowly as he presses kisses closer and closer to where you want him. Giggling, damn near giddy with the excitement of having his mouth on you, you reach down and gently pull his glasses off and reach up to set them on the small table beside his bed.

“Shh, you’ll get it,” he promises, breath hot against your slick folds as he uses his thumbs to spread you apart, groaning appreciatively when he sees how wet you are, how your pussy clenches tightly around nothing, “You earned it, my love.”

The pet name sends you into a tailspin almost as much as the feeling of his warm tongue pressing against your clit does. You let out a long, satisfied moan at the feeling of it, arching your hips up into his mouth.

His groan of satisfaction vibrates through you, only adding to the sensations of his lips and tongue on your aching center. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles, releasing his hold on one thigh to run two long fingers through your slick, gathering it as he teases your entrance, “It’s been far too long.” He groans, speaking more to your throbbing core than you, the thought sending another zap of pleasure swirling up your spine.

“It’s been, like, a week!” Your giggle turns into a breathy moan as he kisses your clit, gently suckling it between his lips as he carefully slips two fingers into you, immediately crooking them up against the spot that he knows will drive you wild.

“Too long,” he grunts into your folds, tongue sweeping over the length of you before he teases it at your clit. “Fuck, if I could eat this sweet little cunt every day, I would.”

Your eyes roll back in your head and your back arches as he feasts on you, shaking his head back and forth to bury his face further into your heat. He growls into you as he licks into your entrance, removing his fingers for a moment to fuck his tongue into you, savoring your sweet taste while the tip of his nose rubs perfectly over your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck,” you gasp, body jerking and twitching as pleasure floods through you, the knot in your stomach growing dangerously tight at just a few touches, “D-Daddy, I’m— oh, fuck!” You cry, arching your back as he slips his fingers into you, expertly fucking and curling them against that rough patch within you, making stars dance behind your eyelids.

“Y’getting close?” Michael murmurs around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and laving his tongue over it before letting it slip from his lips with a wet pop, “S’okay, my love, come on. You don’t need to ask for it, baby girl, you’ve earned it, just come.” He coaxes, slipping a third finger in beside the first two and grinning when he hears you cry out at the added stretch.

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as you pant, wanton whimpers and whines spilling past your lips as your fingers weave into his golden hair. Michael’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling, so pleased with himself that he can make you feel this good, that he can pull these sounds from you that he groans, long and low, into your cunt as he licks and sucks at your folds, flicking his tongue over your swollen bud.

“Can feel you getting tight, pretty girl,” his lips move against your clit as he speaks, “This sweet cunt wants to milk daddy’s fingers, doesn’t she? Fucking let her, baby, come on.”

The knot inside your belly implodes on itself as your body loses all sense of rhythm, every muscle contracting and relaxing as waves of pleasure finally wash over you. You can feel your walls pulsing around Michael’s fingers as your high consumes you, a garbled moan of his name leaving your lips as you shake against him.

He doesn’t let up, digits pressing tightly against the spot inside you as he lewdly spits onto your cunt, loudly slurping it up as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, sucking your still-pulsing bud into his mouth as he does.

“T-Too much!” You whimper, squirming in his hold as you feel yet another high quickly building within you, “Michael, d-daddy, please!”

“Hush,” he huffs, speeding up his movements enough to make you squeal as tears spring to your eyes, “You know what I want, baby girl, give it to me, let yourself have it.”

You grunt loudly as another wave consumes you, your eyes tightly squeezing shut when you feel yourself contracting around his thick fingers yet again. You’re so lost within yourself, you barely hear the slick, sloshing sounds emanating from your heat, but you certainly hear the deep, proud moan that Michael lets out, eyes widening as he watches your cunt squirt around his fingers, droplets wetting his wrist and the sheets on his bed.

You’re practically sobbing by the time he slows his fingers to a stop and gingerly pulls his fingers from you, shushing you gently when you whimper. “What a good girl,” he says softly, noisily licking his fingers clean of the evidence of your release, “Did so good for me, baby.”

The soft praises help you come back to yourself, brain returning to your body in just enough time to get a glimpse of Michael’s face before he buries it in your neck, a blush creeping across your cheeks from the shine of your release on his lips and chin.

“Thank you.” You whisper tiredly, eyes slipping shut as he presses kisses to your neck and jaw.

He laughs softly, leaning on his side next to you, one hand tracing up and down your body as he looks you over. “You wanna keep going or did I wear you out?”

You keep your eyes shut even as a playful smile slinks across your lips, a small giggle slipping past your lips as you wiggle your hips enticingly, making him chuckle with you.

The bed shifts suddenly, causing you to peek one eye open. “There she is,” Michael laughs when you open both eyes fully, watching as he quickly pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor to join yours. He stays on his knees as he unbuttons his jeans, giving you plenty of time to take in his pale chest and stomach, covered in a light wash of blond hair that tapers off to a trail, disappearing beneath the denim around his slender waist, “Want my cock, baby?” He asks, leaning back down beside you as he kicks off his jeans and boxers, cock springing out and resting hotly against your thigh.

Biting your lip, you can’t help but reach down and stroke him gently, a soft sigh leaving you at the sight of his perfect length. Michael grunts next to you, his head tilting back ever so slightly as he finally feels some stimulation on his cock. The delicate sound makes your heart race, knowing you could bring him such pleasure from such a simple touch. A blush blooms on your cheeks as you gaze up at him through your lashes, eyes wide as you smirk and wiggle your hips enticingly.

He smiles at you, eyes sweeping over your form admiringly, before finally meeting your eyes, slightly squinting as he looks at you without his glasses.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He teases, chuckling as you nod eagerly and tuck your behind your knees, holding your legs up to your chest as your skirt looks around your middle. He leans in and kisses you softly, a certain emotion behind his movements that hasn’t ever been there before. He keeps you close as he moves, never taking his lips off of yours while he maneuvers himself on top of you, slotting himself between your thighs with a pleased exhale.

Your back arches as you feel him slide his cock between your folds, the head slipping perfectly against your clit. You grasp onto his shoulders to anchor yourself, mewling into his mouth as his hands grab onto the backs of your knees once more, holding you open for him. His lips trail down your jaw and neck, stopping to nip lightly at your skin, before continuing downward to your breasts. He licks and kisses over each one, paying special attention to your nipples and laughing softly at the cacophony of whimpers and whines you make as he teases them with his tongue.

“I’ve got you,” he sighs, pulling back just enough to grasp his cock, notching the head inside your opening, just enough to make you gasp and squirm, “Y’wanna go dumb on my cock, babygirl?” He says lowly, resting his forehead against yours as he bends down enough to make the muscle in the back of your thigh ache with the stretch.

“Oh, please!” You breathe, canting your hips up in an attempt to get even just a bit more of his cock into you, “Please, daddy!”

With a growl, Michael slowly slips inside you, humming deep in his chest as he does, his eyes slipping closed as he savors your tight, wet heat.

“F-Fuck,” you squeak out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you completely, his girth stretching you to the brim, leaving no part of you untouched, “You feel so good!” You whine, eyes fluttering as you try desperately to remain focused on him, never tiring of the expressions he makes when he’s inside you.

Slowly, he begins thrusting into you, groaning lowly as your fingers grip tighter at his shoulders. His blue eyes roll back in his head, brows furrowing as he slowly speeds up, rocking into you in a perfect motion.

“Feels so good,” he gasps out, ardently biting and sucking at your neck as he does, angling his hips to make sure the tip of his cock presses against that sensitive spot inside you, “So fucking tight, shit.”

The two of you move together, his hips smacking against the backs of your thighs as he plunges in and out of you. You can’t help but blush when the wet, squelching sound of your cunt begins drowning out the sharp gasps leaving your lips every time he thrusts back in, the tip of his cock brushing deliciously against the very back of your heat.

A rumbling laugh sounds in his chest as he hears it too, making you flush somehow deeper as he fixes you with a filthy grin. “Little pussy loves me, huh?” He rasps, groaning at the sight of you trying frantically to answer, your mouth hanging open as useless whines and moans warble past your lips. “She does, hm? Pretty cunt loves daddy’s cock.”

“Yeah, yeah— fuck!” You mumble, nodding your foggy head as best as you can as you gaze up at him longingly, breasts bouncing along with his thrusts, “L-Love it, daddy, fuck!”

He moans softly and grinds himself against you, driving you nearly insane as the small thatch of hair above his cock rubs against your clit deliciously. Your arms shoot out, wrapping around his neck tightly and dragging him down to you, needing something to hold onto as your walls clench down hard on his length, every thrust into you making you see stars.

His hands drop from your knees, arms locking around your neck in turn, pulling you up to him. Your legs lock tightly around his waist, the two of you as pressed together as you can get, your breasts pressed tightly against his chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely as his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your face back just enough to meet your eyes, “So pretty, so good.” He chokes out, eyes frantically darting between the two of yours, chest heaving as he pants.

You mewl harshly as his thrusts speed up even more, eyes nearly crossing as the head of his cock pounds perfectly against each sensitive spot inside you at the same time his abdomen grinds against your sensitive, swollen clit. You claw desperately at his back as you feel your walls clench and pulse around his length, well aware you won’t be able to hold on much longer but unable to warn him.

Fortunately for you, Michael has committed your tells to memory, even in the few short weeks the two of you have been intimate. “Come,” he commands harshly, gasping out the word just as you feel his length beginning to twitch inside you, “Fuck, come love, come.”

You nod your head wildly, rutting your hips against his as you shiver, your walls growing ever tighter on his length as you hang helplessly over the edge of your high.

“I fucking love you,” he grunts suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in your neck, mouthing uncontrollably at your neck as he keeps mumbling, “I love you, I love you, I love you so—shit, so fucking much! Fucking come, babygirl, come!”

Your head spins at his confession, heart hammering wildly in your chest as your high slams into you. You seize under him, shaking and crying as you pulse around his length, tears leaking into your hairline while you moan loudly, hips rutting wildly against him as you pull him somehow closer with your legs around his waist.

In the back of your mind, you hear him grunting harshly into your ear, squeezing the life out of you while he trembles, thrusting harshly into you one, two, three more times before stilling, hard cock pulsing wildly as he empties into you, flooding your walls with his warm spend.

Both of you pant harshly, a shiny sheen of sweat covering you. After a moment, you finally relax and your legs slip from around his waist, flopping lazily onto his bed.

You let out a breathy laugh as you look over him, his head still resting against your chest. His blond hair is messy, sticking up in all sorts of ways from where you’d run your fingers through it. Slowly, he relaxes against you too, slumping against you as he sighs tiredly, eventually matching your own spent laugh. Yours eyes slip closed after a moment and you let out a relaxed hum when you feel him tracing shapes onto your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

You giggle when his head instantly shoots up, tired eyes immediately meeting yours as he squints, “Y-You do?” The shock on his face is clear and he blushes so heavily the pink color extends all the way to the tops of his ears.

“For someone so smart you can be really dense,” you laugh, grinning as he sheepishly smiles at you, “How could I not?”

“Say it again,” he asks softly, a clear need in his eyes, “Please.”

“I love you, Michael Gavey.” You murmur, pushing a strand of hair off of his forehead.

He preens momentarily, shoulders seeming to square off with a newfound confidence before a familiar smirk lights upon his face. “No need to be so formal about it, love,” he quips, slowly pulling his softening length from your soaked core, shushing you sweetly as he does, “Daddy will do just fine.”

You roll your eyes with a laugh, playfully smacking his shoulder. “I’m trying to be sweet and you’re being an ass as usual!”

He snickers softly, biting his lip with a groan when he leans back to watch his cum slowly leak from you. “Well, lucky I’m your ass.” He smirks, laying beside you as he rests his head on his pillow.

“Oh, so you’re mine now?” You ask blithely, skimming a finger down one of his long arms.

“Mhm,” he hums, surprising you by lifting one of your thighs; you whine when his fingers connect with your center once again, gingerly gathering his cum leaking from you before pressing it back in slowly, working it into you with a smirk, “And you’re all mine, gotta make sure to claim you properly.”

You shudder at his words, biting your lip as you feel a familiar fog invading your mind once again. You don’t bother protesting, not even attempting to make a quick quip as you lean in and kiss him softly. A hot hand against your cheek makes you pull back, smirking when your eyes finally focus on his fingers, still shining with your combined juices.

“Jesus,” he breathes as he watches you take his fingers into your mouth, your own hands holding him steady at his forearm as you greedily suck at his fingers, “I fucking love you.”

“I love you too,” you giggle, finally pulling off his fingers with a soft pop, letting his hand rest against your waist as the two of you lie contently together on his bed, facing each other.

You see his eyelids begin to droop tiredly, a small sigh leaving his lips as he relaxes, “You know, you do have to actually help me study later.” You point out, laughing as he groans sleepily.

“Only if it ends with you on my cock.” He mumbles, pulling him closer to you as his breathing begins to even out.

“Like it hasn’t ended that way every time before?” You jokingly question as you let your eyes trace over his features, taking in his strong nose and jaw, smiling at the way his lips are still quirked up at the edges. Eventually, your eyes begin to droop too and you snuggle into him, breathing in his familiar scent as you drift off, something woodsy yet bookish, mixed with something that’s entirely Michael.

Your Michael.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenswife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @officerbrowneyes

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urautismdiagnosis · 1 month ago

Text

Barnacles Psyche and Trauma Post

@traumatizedartist

Listen y'all we all know the canon event where lil bro got stuck in a hole when he was a kid. Little polar bear scout cub, ice broke under him, got trapped in a deep little hole and was left all alone while waiting for the others to *maybe* figure out a way to rescue him.

Now the guys claustrophobic, HOWEVER-

bro coulda died

how long was he left all alone, possibly for the first time as a kid? he didn't even have his twin that's like, that's terrifying-

did he wonder if they'd even come back? If they'd even be able to find a way to get him out lest he freeze or starve to death in a hole? Rationally we'd assume hey they'd find an adult if they failed, but cmon, a panicked kid is not gonna assume that.

do you think he wouldn't have tried to escape on his own? only to fail and fail? helpless?

In the earlier seasons of The Octonauts, there was a certain incident that always stuck out to me, even when I watched it years ago-

OCTONAUTS AND THE MANATEES

During this episode, captain barnacles had been out driving the GUP-A when it was struck by lightening. Soon after, the octonauts realize there's a group of manatees that are close to the surface of the dangerous thunderstorm. Their plan is to transport the manatees to the octopod during the storm since manatees can't just dive down because they need to breathe air.

Barnacles has open communication and guides them all step by step for this entire operation, complications and all, through his octo compass.

Even though Barnacles tried to ignore the lightening strike by diving deeper into the water, the GUP still got struck, which caused to spin out of control and crash. Even the spread of electricity in the water is dangerous. As a result, he got his forearm crushed and stuck under a clam for the entire sequence of events I'm going to describe.

Sounds the octoalert realizing the danger the manatees are in by using a piece of seaweed and sticky limpet to grab onto his octo compass.

Barnacles claims he's "doing something else at the moment" when questioned where he is. He also gets actively stung by a jellyfish during the call and does not inform anyone.

There are BARRACUDAS who might attack the captain because of his shiny octo compass, and he has to struggle to hide behind the clam and some rocks while advising the octonauts about how to handle the manatees slow nature and needs. He does not inform anyone.

Barnacles escapes the BARRACUDAS that were far too close to shredding him alive by essentially jumping off an underwater cliff and ending up on the back of a whale, in which he is violently turned and rolling along the back of.

Barnacles is launched by the force of the whale's tail into an actual shipwreck. He continues to guide them through the difficulties of the mission due to the fact there is still one manatee left that may not be able to be transported to the octopod in time.

Barnacles air tank is on low and is actively running out before his eyes, he struggles with removing his arm from the heavy clam as he attempts to use a piece of wood to pry his arm out. He does not tell anyone.

Barnacles manages to escape at the last moment, and is forced to forfeit wearing his helmet as there is no oxygen left. Previously they had flipped the GUP D in order to make a safe airpocket in deeper waters for the manatee, which Peso and Kwazii witness the captain (while holding his own breath) swimming too.

He barely made it.

When questioned where he'd been anyways, he lightheartedly states, and I quote, "Oh, let's see... I was uh... struck by lightning, eaten by a giant clam, stung by a jellyfish, attacked by barracudas, escaped off the back of a blue whale, smashed into a shipwreck, freed myself, ran out of air and... eh... Oh yeah, found you."

What the actual FCK captain barnacles.

LIKE LISTEN MAN, I do not care if he "knew what he was doing" or whatever that is NOT a normal OR healthy response! "Oh but the captain always prioritizes protecting others and he understoo-

NO, he could have literally told his crew, and sure, they were in an "all hands on deck" situation, but he didn't even tell anyone! someone else could have adjusted the plan, someone else could have lessened the responsibility, someone else HAD THE POSSIBILITY OF HELPING

hell even if they had to get professor inkling out he probably would've if he knew BARNACLES MIGHTVE BEEN CLOSE TO DYING, the professor gets out just to protect some small fish that cant rely on a lionmaine jellyfish and he deals with literal predators?! why wouldn't he try to help the captain? and does he seriously think NO other member of theoctonauts would try to find a way to help him? Not the crafty tweak? Not the caring peso? not the daring kwazii? That shellington or dashi might not even have a word of advice?

I raise you all a little theory that is true in my heart and in my au, the subconscious question beneath our lovely captain's psyche:

"What if I am trapped and none of them can help me? Will I have to accept that I'm alone? Again?"

What if it was easier to pretend everything was fine and he had everything totally under control? You don't have to rely on others if you can rely on yourself. You don't have to worry if they'll just deem you a lost cause (like what peso asked about the last manatee... if it was even possible to save...) Forced to wait as you're trapped and in pain....

ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ᶦᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᶦᵈ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃᵛᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ.

DO YALL SEE THE VISION OR AM I CRAZY? ʸᵉˢ ᴵ ᵃᵐ

PERSONAL AU ADDITIONS

This next bit is literally just extra trauma I gave him in my au because like <3 I'm just cute like that yk

global warming btch

Anyways in my au I made his dad die when he was like 3 lol, due to a certain natural incident caused by, oh my what's this-, GLOBAL WARMING AGAIN . I bet his mom had a hard time that surely wouldn't have effected him and given him a strict desire to help help help- that lead u to being the defacto guy to offer his help and thoughts as a polar bear cub scout which just made people look to you automatically.

"u cant really miss someone you don't know : ) besides I can always rely on my family and friends and natquick(the father that STEPPED UP, just to be clear not a step father but like to a father figure) and mentors to guide me"

like omg just SAY you had super angsty years in your 20s where you were like "OMG REALITY SUCKS AND GLOBAL WARMING IS BAD AND WHT THE FCK IS CAPATILISM" internally during his college years lol (bro will always smile lmso)

anyways I'm thinking he met prof inkling and yk they agreed that hey, we need to revolutionize how aid and scientific studies are done, and prof inkling was like! I got it! NASA BUT FOR THE OCEAN- Itll start smaller ofc,but NASA FOR THE OCEAN and then tweak was there and went hell yeah I sure hope we don't crash this highly experimental giant robot octopus ship submarine I've constructed with the grant we all managed to get.

Anyways then the octonauts were born and they were all very happy and suddenly barnacles (despite the trial and error when it was just those three) actually had a plan and could Make A Difference and have control

cuz idk if y'all realize but like, (for me I see them living like a blend of how us humans live, but just socially inspired from the wild thing irl. so maybe they got like Earth Sheltered Homes (think hobbit houses) but with snow and whatever) but basically global warming for Arctic Folk of all countries isn't just like "oh no we cant do our VERY IMPORTANT TRADITIONS WEVE CARRIED FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS" but its also like the loss of cultural jobs, literal homes becoming weaker, more natural disasters and idk about y'all but... doesn't it just feel like their entire culture is dying?

sure, they could just "move somewhere else" but that means giving up their land, not being able to uphold their traditions, being forced into communities that they don't have any social niches for. being forced to lose generational jobs and trades. physically struggling in warmer environments. (I headcanon barnacles has to not just cut and trim his fur, but also has to have a sort of cooling pack system under his clothes cuz bros got blubber yk?)

its literally the death of an ancient culture due to corporate greed, and he's watching it actively die out in real time. That's gut wrenching. I can only image.. how... Helpless he must've felt before he could help others who struggled from disasters too.

Anyways he has a "I have to help and adopt everyone" complex thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

ANGSTY STUFF THAT HAPPENED FOR LITERALLY NO REASON OTHER THAN THE FACT I WANTED TO GIVE HIM SCARS AND NOTICED URSA AND ORSON DONT SEEM TO HAVE A DAD

As for the scars, @traumatizedartist Im gonna be honest I don't know why younger me (during my first hyperfixation of octonauts) went "hm... suspicious that bianca doesn't have a husband..." but basically APPARENTLY bianca is just divorced and they ex tried to Idk take ursa and Orson's custody rights and was a *ahem* very bad douche bag about it and the like. Well cmon man I think barnacles deserves to have a side of himself he doesn't want to share!

Like I'm so sorry but if ur telling me I SHOULDNT have made the captain literally get into a real polar bear fight and get the scars (of victory) while trying to protect his own family-

listen I know he's the "lets talk it out even f ur trying to eat me" type, but people aren't animals (very funny to our perspective ik ik) and if someone can fully understand the situation and the threats their making, like animals act on instinct mostly, but people can CHOOSE to suck.

People can CHOOSE to be selfish and greedy, so if you're tired of always trying to talk things out over and over and the guy you FCKING HATE is right there acting threatening and crazy you're absolutely gonna remember the years your sister spent going rough on you in play fights (fond memories and very educational<3) you're absolutely gonna show her how good you are by beating her ex up.

bianca was not there at the time but I like to think despite her being smaller she would have probably been able to handle both of them lmso lets be real barnacles just knows how to fight but he doesn't have the spirit lol

anyways I just think it'd be so awesome, it'd be so cool, if he had polar bear angst fight scars that he hides under his clothes and sleeves <3

ok I'm done, or not really, but the future angst I have planned for my happy lil (very tall) fuzzy snow guy cant be spoiled yet cuz I got PLANS that I have not enacted yet <3

man I was really mean to him huh, wait till y'all see what I've done to kwazii lol

Bonus thoughts "Lord and savior of the manatees"

none of the other octonauts have uh, the same level of "Yo What The Actual Fck" as those two (they match eachothers freak in an aro ace aspecss with trauma way) but they all got a little something going on in their noggins.

other than professor inkling and the vegimals tho, I would NEVER harm any of the vegimals EVER (genuinely) and professor inkling just looks too happy to disturb so imma let him be content <3

he does have excellent communication skills and is generally happy though, he just has some repressed emotions and a weird complex or two that isn't that healthy

i like to think peso and the professor had a heart to heart with him about the manatee incident, and now whenever kwazii is "too reckless" he just says "well I'm sorry me lord and savior of the manatees" and the conversation is OVER

never let any of the octoagents know about that nickname he will die and melt on the spot because everyone, that was SUCH a long time ago- Besides it wasn't as bad as you make it sou-

*gets slappity flippered*

BAI LOL

#octonauts #my art #octonauts art #Wisty's Octonauts AU #gonna have to make that a tag lol #octonauts captain barnacles #octonauts barnacles #captain barnacles #the octonauts #octonauts above and beyond #octonauts fanart #idk #lore post #idk y'all I just think he's neat

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luxthestrange · 11 months ago

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KNY Incorrect quotes#107 Lil brothers

Modern Highschool au...With the Hantengu Quadruplets...Only You and Sekido find out your youngest siblings...are actually friends, and both asked you to join in their playdate when you came over to tutor Sekido-...who can say no to the little cuties-

Sekido*Looks at You with a raised brow*So does this mean we're married now?

Bookworm!Y/n: Only if I get to keep the dog and pinball machine in the divorce-

Sekido: Well dang!- if you're already planning for a divorce idk Nerd-

Bookworm!Y/n: Alright!, Since you wanna have an attitude, I get to keep the squirrel-proof bird feeder as well~

Sekido: How DARE you!... GO FOR THE BIRD FEEDER

Bookworm!Y/n: I was trying to keep things civil, But if you want to raise your voice too, FINE...Im taking ALL the spoons too~, Enjoy the inconvenience of not being able to eat your cereal in a normal way~

Sekido: I dont eat cereal because I'm not a child!?!

Bookworm!Y/n*Flipping the kiddy table and pointing at him accusingly* AND THIS IS WHY WE'RE GETTING A DIVORCE!

Zohakuten:....

Kotetsu:...

Zohakuten*Looks at his classmate Kotetsu*...You are right playing house is fun-

Kotetsu*Smiles knowingly*I told you!

Sequel to:

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny x y/n #modern au #sekido #kny kotetsu #kny zohakuten #bookworm!y/n #sekido x reader #sekido x y/n #kny fluff #kny incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #hantengu clones #kny hantengu

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superm4ks · 3 months ago

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I can’t decide what my fav Russell quote has been throughout this whole thing because it’s. Been. Genuinely of the most pure cases of complete headloss I’ve witnessed from him but we gotta recap because it’s just too good.

Also can’t get over how still in Qatar he made a joke out of it in the presser that Max did made a lil snide remark about him not even making the corner leaving the stewards but it didn’t matter anyway because his start ((and Lewis’ ‼️ he can’t help himself it’s crazy)) was terrible so whtvr . Emblematic but I won’t say tm. He says this shit wid a smile on his face. A week later hes on a mission against bullying the literal verge of tears because Max traumatized the merc juniors ((???😭😭😭😭))) and his nephew ((😭😭)) who’s on TikTok but has exclusive access to what was said in the stewards room and was very distressed ((PLEASE HELLO)). Max is traumatizing these young drivers and setting a bad example and it’s time somebody puts an end to this EVIL dangerous … umm wait lemme check the tape .. 4 time world champion most penalized driver since the system got introduced who came back from 20 seconds on his head in Mexico to flip the title in his favor from p17 in one of the finest wet races in Interlagos and then won the title in an off pace machine that wud have been dragged to a wdc without its first dominant run before Miami regardless thru pure expertise alone . No we gotta stop this fool this is an awful embassador of the sport.

Hey btw y’all remember when the gpda director along wid the drivers as a collective posted an statement on ig asking for grown men to be treated as such and for consistency in stewarding thru better officiating. So this ‘union leader’ unprompted said a ((fired)) race director wud have ‘feared for his life in 2021’ if Max hadn’t won, explicitly accused Max of getting away wid murder because he isn’t ‘penalized enough’, brought up situations like Hungary and Mexico which directly led to the statement that HE put out as the gpda director. Guess that shit don’t apply if 1 the bitches u represent perhaps wid respect, maybe, just a tad, hurt ur feelings.

Russell left the stewards room wid no problem wid Max ((his own words)) then as soon as he learned Max in fact had a problem wid HIM bro waited a week to let us know , and I’ll remind u that this is about a decision Max felt George fucked him over and expressed himself accordingly, that 25% of Red Bull employees sent out their resumes to other teams after Budapest. Thank u drama alert . I’m crying

ALSO . Can’t get over this 1 in particular. He now has Torger .. TORGER. who spent 2024 courting Verstappen in frankly increasingly unhinged ways putting out statements that his children are also traumatized by Max’s language and overall person and siding wid Ben Sulayem on the swearing thing. This an union leader who got his feelings hurt and immediately abandoned most of the ideals expressed in the first union statement his association put out in YEARS going as far as to allow his camp to side wid the President of the federation that’s actively working to undermine him politically and strip away his workers rights. And what truly gets me man. He never denied Max’s claims. He goes straight into the whole ‘max said he wud put my head in a wall’ and into anti bullying 2021 masi my tiktoker nephew has ptsd yadda yadda nonsense but he doesn’t touch Qatar. He knows he cant acknowledge Max’s actual complaints regarding his behavior in Qatar because he went into that stewards room wanting Max’s pole stripped away for his own gain and had no issue contributing to an egregious stewarding decision because it benefited him even if it meant lying and contributing to an issue hes trying to address as the gpda director.

It’s crazy because ik from the moment Max went on his post race tirade and got personal that George wud be spooked into reverting to the narrative all these lil drivers run back to when faced wid direct criticism from Verstappen which is that hes a bully and actually do u remember that time he was so evil etc. Like unfortunately for George this too shall pass and just like Qatar it didn’t fucking matter what Max told him or didn’t because he fucked his start and Max didn’t and went on to win the race. because Max says his piece and he locks that judgement in the back of his mind, he gets into the car and he’ll have the last word written on rubber because hes a racing driver. U can’t do that. U don’t have the facilities to do that. Ur moving like a politician because that’s all u can resort to. Let’s c how that works for u wid the lil Italian Senna blowing up the joint next year. Ive heard hes a real wheeler too. Kisses

#🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬#qatar gp 2024 #I wud say the girls are fighting I think 1 girl is like this close to just going to tmz #imma tag #who cares #long post #fia #f1 #gax #it’s so dead ❤️‍🩹#max verstappen #george russell #kit posts

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halforresterluvsford · 2 months ago

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Saw this anon post on @kyber-shack and I had to. This started out funny but it got serious…sorry if Stan sounds too sappy here.

Enjoy! :)

“Stanley, have you seen my-“ Stanford Pines stops cold, barging into his and his brother’s shared room, the search for his journal forgotten.

“Stanley, No! Stop what you’re doing right this instance!” Ford yelled as he stared at the scene before him. Stanley couldn’t be so foolish as to try to use that, could he!?

“Relax, Stanford, it’s fine.” Stan waves him off, continuing to lube up small glass Christmas tree decoration.

Truly. His brother truly is that ridiculous. Stanford feels a crazed laugh bubble up his throat before he stamps it down, his right eye twitching instead. He really doesn’t want to have to take his brother to the emergency room and explain why there’s a Christmas tree up his ass.

Moses save him.

“It’s not “fine”, Stanley!” Ford does his finger quotes as offensively as possible, “It’s made of glass! It could break while inside of you! Internal bleeding is a very serious matter!” His brother is trying to kill himself, that’s the only explanation.

“It’s thick glass.” Stan had the nerve to shrug at Stanford, who’s an inch away from throttling him.

“There’s no flared base! It could get lost and travel up your colon! Think, Stanley, please. I’m begging you.” He’s so close to actually getting on his knees to plead for his brother’s sanity.

“I’ll just keep a tight grip on it, then.” That does.

Ford tackles Stan, knocking the stupid decoration out of his hand and pinning them next to his face. He scowls, leaning in close to his twin’s face before whispering in his ear, “If you wanted to be stuffed so badly, all you had to do was ask, my dear.” He purrs before he trails kisses down Stan’s face, beginning to pepper his neck with them when Stan responds.

“I tried, ya’ knucklehead, but you were too busy in your lab. I had to do something to get your attention, so I nabbed your journal to get you up here so I could rile you up enough to fuck me. Heh,” Stan roughly laughs, throwing his head back and cocking a smirk at Ford’s bewildered face above him, “sure worked, huh? Lil’ IQ is more than willing and able.” This line, he nods down to Ford’s crotch where a prominent bulge was forming.

What.

The. Fuck.

He’s going to kill Stanley. Well, no, he’s going to fuck him, but the sentiment is all the same. He’s the Knucklehead, making him think he was stupid enough-insane enough to risk potential life threatening injury just to-

Without saying a single word, Ford flips Stanley over, hitching his thighs open so he can get a good look at his hole. Slick and red, meaning his brother fingered himself open in preparation. Good, that means Ford doesn’t have to be nice and gentle. He whips his belt out of their loops, breathing out harshly as the stray end whipping across Stan’s ass brings a whimper out of him, and unzipping his pants before bringing his cock out through the slit in his boxers. His brother doesn’t deserve to feel any of Ford’s skin, not with how pissed off he is. He grabs himself and lines up with Stan’s ass, pushing in gently enough at first to not seriously hurt his brother but thrusting in harshly as soon as his tip slips in. He starts a punishing pace, wrapping his arms around Stan and leaning down to bury his face in his neck.

“St-Stanford! Oh fuck, a-are you-ah! There!” Of course Ford knows it’s there, he’s fucked Stanley often enough to have his entire body mapped, inside and out, in his mind. He could find his prostate in his sleep. “Ngh-talk to-to me here, please. F-ford, I don’t like it when-fuck fuck fuck-you don’t talk.”

He probably should, shouldn’t he? That’s something he and Stanley talked about when they first got together. Stan can’t stand silence during sex, even if it’s angry sex, to him nasty words are better than angered and stifling silence.

“I was worried,” his voice is rough when he speaks moment later, his thrusts slowing down enough so that he can find better purchase on his knees, lifting Stan’s body enough so that he can reach under him and fist his red and weeping cock, “I thought you were really-really willing to hurt yourself. That,” Ford swallows in an attempt to wet his dry throat, “that you didn’t want me, that a stupid piece of over priced trash was better than me.” And there was the crux of the matter. Ford was stupidly jealous. He had a dislike for sex toys when they were together, and hated any one that might actually penetrate his brother, thinking that if Stanley couldn’t be satisfied with him, he might leave him. Ford doesn’t have much experience, only ever having been with two other people physically before Stanley. He hates to admit it, but he’s insecure.

“Hey,” Ford’s broken out of his thoughts by Stan’s hand pulling his head down to his, his eyes looking back at him. “You know you’re the only one I want. Stanford, I’ve never bottom before you, you know?” Stanford did not know, “I never felt safe or, you know, loved by anyone but you. Definitely never any other men. Ugh, they were creeps out there.” Ford’s mind has stalled. He was Stanley’s first? Well, not first, obviously. But, the first one to have him like this? His thrusting, which had stopped, ramped up again, his hand on Stanley’s cock moving in tempo with his. He buries his head in his brother’s neck again, playing wet and sloppy kisses there, whispering quiet “love you’s” between each one. He aims for Stanley’s prostate for each thrust, earning strangled moans and gasps, the most delightful sounds Ford’s ever heard.

“Stanford-Sixer. Please, oh please faster-I need-! Oh, shit I love you too, Ford. Never let anyone else have me like you do, only you can-huh-fuck me like this, right?” Fuck does Stanley know what he’s doing. He speeds up on command, going from kissing Stanley’s neck to biting it, intent on leaving lasting bruises, marks to remind both of them just who gets to have him like this.

Only Ford does.

“Mine. Hah-you’re mine, Lee. No one else can have you, mmmhph. Mine. Mine. Mine…” Stanford felt feral, “mine” being the only word he can say at that moment. That word and the wet plap plap plap ringing out between Stanley’s pleasured grunts and moans making a cacophony of noise-distantly, he’s grateful they were the only ones home at the time-music to the twins’ ears. Stanford can feel himself get closer, his balls tightening as Stanley squeezes around him so sinfully, so delightful. He tightens his fist on his twin’s cock, adding a twist when his hand makes it’s way to the head, Stan’s ass squeezing him tighter at the motion.

“Please, Stanford, cum in me.” Stanley moans so prettily in ears. And like always, he’s incapable of doing anything but what his brother wishes. His hips twitch, thrusting harshly a half dozen more times before he snaps them up, holding himself still close to his brother while he finishes inside-hand still fisting the other’s cock.

“Stanley.” Came Ford’s strangled grunt as he works his tight fist over his brother’s throbbing cock, squeezing the head and thumbing his slit. He feels more than he hears Stanley sob as he cums, strings of ejaculate coating Ford’s hand, the floor, and Stanley’s stomach. They collapse on the ground, both breathless and both with slightly aching backs. Stan turns over to be face to face with Ford. He brings his hands up and cups his twin’s face, fingers tracing over his nose and brows as Ford kisses his palms, both basking in the moment.

“Way better than a damn glass Christmas tree, Sixer, stupid thing can’t even compare.” Stan smiles, rubbing their noses together

Stanford just breaks out in loud laughter, wrapping his arms tightly around Stanley.

—Alternative Ending—

“Welcome to Gravity Falls Emergency Room. Does your injury or illness pertain to fire, molasses, Christmas lights, or snow coated bricks?” The cheery nurse asks to two grumpy men in front of her.

“No. Need something removed.” The words were short and curt coning from Stan.

“Alrighty! What’s the object and where does it need to be removed from?” She remains her cheerful disposition.

“Glass tree. From me.” Oh, another one.

“Ah, I’ll get Margo then, she’s the specialist for that ‘round here.” She gives a sympathetic tut. Stan’s face burns red from embarrassment. Ford’s from holding back his laughter.

#stancest #proship #it’s a few days too late #oh well

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geraskierfanficprompts · 6 days ago

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Firstly, when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)!!!

I like: 1: My hair :) Natural pretty ringlets that look like they were done at a salon, and always a bright dyed color that makes me happy when I look in the mirror (i've done a pinkish purple, a blue, fluorescent green that lit up like a blacklight poster, and currently a bright yellow!) 2: My characters, I'm proud of my designs and the backstories I write for them, and the roleplays and stories and ttrpgs I put them in. I'm proud of my creativity, of my usage and flipping of tropes, and my work using vocal quirks, mannerisms, and different personalities. :))) 3: My deep voice :) I'm a ciswoman with a deep natural voice. I've always been proud of it, I like it :))) 4: My humor, I've always been able to make a room laugh, and it makes me feel nice. Even if I'm losing myself with anxiety, if I can make someone laugh, suddenly I feel weightless :)) 5: My teeth!!! I have a few extra, including wisdom teeth that grew in normally and didn't have to be removed. I like seeing my extra lil fang up front when i smile :)))) I used to be upset with them, but over the years, I've really grown to love them, and it's just not me without them People who can do this (if they want lol) @xx0livkaxx (Whom I believe was my first ever follower according to the list :P) @moonasticcreastic, I smile every time I catch a post of theirs :) @ahumoki0, who likes so many of my prompts they've become a household name lol @stubbornasacat, who sends me the best memes and always has great insights on posts of mine! @thedemonofcat who makes incredible geraskier prompts you should definitely check out! @thequeeninyellowlace who not only makes funny geraskier memes, but also tends to add incredibly amazing add-ons to prompts of mine :) @i-have-all-the-genders who recently liked like every post I ever made, welcome to my shitstorm blog!!! Hope you enjoy the stay! @0dde11eth who technically doesn't follow me but they're a mutual in my heart, I love all their posts and incorrect quotes with my whole soul @everything-but-the-not-natural, who does all those "#witcher cross stitch bullshit" posts, also doesn't follow me, but I like them lol, ALSO, Apparently I've just been stalkign them without following THEM?? I completely thought I did because they showed up so much in my home page but apparently it's just the tags on their posts feeding them to me? Anyways I rectified my mistake because I love their blog so I finally followed them like I should've been doing for months now APWHIGAPWHGAW Edit: FANTASTIC NEWS! THEY DO FOLLOW ME! WE ARE MUTUALS!!! THey did it in another blog! there's multiple blogs on tumblr! that's a thing yoiuc an do! i forgot!!! this is amazintg :)) I have FRands!!!! @bakewrite, last but not least, my tumblr wife, Bakeywake! An incredible fic writer (who has done some of my prompts, cough cough, you should read those), who comments on every post of mine, and talks to me constantly. Sometimes I get too flustered by the day to respond right away but every message means the world to me. They're my biggest fan, my cheerleader, my frieng :))) Special shout out to @akelafang who I'd be tagging if they didn't tag me, I love them to bits and pieces And also @houseofcharobones, my best friend of five years now :) puts you in my stew and fucking stirs it

#reblog game #positivity #akelafang #anyone can do this btw!!!!#it was fun :)#sorry to people who came just for the game and got blasted in the face by my love for followers and mutuals and other tumblr users

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gluion · 10 months ago

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safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ kim taerae

kim taerae x reader, slight sung hanbin x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with taerae.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff,��afab reader (no gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hanbin is your ex, zhanghao and matthew appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ thought i'd make my official debut to zeroseblr with this lil piece that i absolutely love!! i hope you guys look forward to more zb1 fics from me :DD here's the original one if you're interested! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hanbin’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hanbin’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hanbin was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hanbin found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hanbin was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hanbin. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hanbin would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hanbin knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hanbin met zhanghao, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hanbin was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to zhanghao, you and hanbin got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hanbin decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. zhanghao became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and zhanghao reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hanbin fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hanbin glanced at zhanghao, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but zhanghao kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting hanbin come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hanbin, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, zhanghao dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hanbin, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, zhanghao saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to zhanghao, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named taerae.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hanbin left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hanbin’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“hao, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hanbin’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “taerae! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, zhanghao caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hanbin did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of taerae’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

taerae still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and taerae got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night came, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to taerae who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—zhanghao, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met zhanghao a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, taerae never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented zhanghao after what happened.” you moved your gaze to taerae whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hanbin’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw zhanghao,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told taerae that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of zhanghao; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hanbin you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, taerae listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and taerae found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than hanbin, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, taerae promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and taerae who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew the people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hanbin.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of taerae’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hanbin and zhanghao now stay. your mouth turned dry as taerae’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hanbin’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hanbin being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hanbin that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress.

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of zhanghao that once caressed your face. the lips of hanbin that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were taerae’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

taerae took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. taerae still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; taerae goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and taerae decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the taerae’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

taerae’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hanbin’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named matthew, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and taerae grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hanbin still lives?

but one glance at taerae was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” matthew asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met taerae’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. taerae was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and matthew to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with taerae.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how taerae shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left taerae, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. matthew stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were taerae’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told matthew before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and taerae found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached taerae’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how taerae’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his sister, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a strawberry and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of red and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with taerae by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hanbin. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw taerae crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hanbin with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside taerae. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at taerae and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hanbin, and 11 months since zhanghao told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with taerae, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hanbin; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in taerae’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and taerae stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how taerae came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “taerae, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw taerae holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “taerae!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing taerae’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up. making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how taerae’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“taerae!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as taerae was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and taerae fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but taerae came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how taerae holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.