#hips hurt more than usual everything is making me itchy and warm stomach is all a mess and nauseous

[ghoulishthings]

.

#ugh these season allergies r making my RA flare up and i feel so fucked rn #hips hurt more than usual everything is making me itchy and warm stomach is all a mess and nauseous #awful #im just draped on the sofa rn #cat is trying to snuggle but the tiny pokes of his nails that i usually dont even notice is making my skin hurt and red #ughhhhh #the mod #The weather was so nice I opened the windows and That was a mistake #I know its allergies bc this is how I feel with lilies in the house

[cherrysha]

Uvo’s First Time With You

This is tooth rottingly sweet Uvo because i really cant help myself. im weak fr that big ass boi.

Requests are Open atm

Summary : I have this headcanon where Uvo doesn’t physically punish his girl *ahem* captive fr not wanting him... he just slips her a lil smthn smthn at dinner one night..

Word Count: 3,691

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, Yandere!Uvo, drugs, unprotected sex, cockwarming, kidnapping, tiniest mention of blood, mentions of violence, aaand I think thats it.

As per usual 18+ crowd here. No minors should be reading this.

He just sits there after dinner, quieter than usual as he waits for it to kick in.

His arm draped across the back of the couch and he just feels you slowly start to squirm around more and more, he lets his eyes wander over you.

“Is everything okay sweetheart?”

“Yeah...it’s just.. really hot in here Uvo” you whisper to him.

And you saying his name like that,, already so needy for...something, has him trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“I’ll adjust the temperature for you then.”

And beFORE he even has a chance to get up your whining at him not to leave. (which is COMPLETELY out of character since you usually are uncomfortable just being around this giant of a man who quite literally kidnapped you)

“I just wanna lay down Uvo.. I don’t feel good”

And there it is again. Usually he can’t even get you to look him in the eye but nOW?! Your saying his name and clutching onto his t-shirt like ur fighting the urge to wrap yourself around him.

He nods his head, keeping a straight face as he gruffly replies with “Go lay down then”

You just let out an impatient sigh and bury your face into his side.

And the bastard KNOWS you want HIM to lay down with you!! But he wants to hear you say it. Wants to see that pretty blush on your face when you get flustered.

You whine out “Uvo...” and stare at him, mentally trying to communicate your need without having to say it out loud. Not really understanding what you want, or maybe you do but you’re so far in denial that you don’t want to acknowledge it.

“Tell me what you want or I won’t give you anything at all.”

And he watches as a pout makes its way across your features.

With a huff you crawl into his lap, arms reaching as far up his tall frame as they can to grip onto his shirt again. Pressing yourself completely against him. You make eye contact for the first time that night.

“I - I want you to lay down with me... please Uvo?”

To say he’s shocked is an understatement

The man is beyond words. It’s only been 15 minutes since he slipped you the drugs and you’re already more comfortable with him than you’ve been since he took you months ago.

“All you had to do was ask sweetheart.”

It’s only been seconds from your statement and you don’t even care about laying down anymore. Can’t even really remember that you were having a conversation or what it was even about. All you can think of now is how hot you are, how your clothing is too itchy and constricting. Your skin is on fire.

Uvo’s body temperature is way hotter than yours normally, and even now he’s still very warm. But to you it feels like heaven. His warmth like a soothing balm over your skin.

“Uvo I need.. I need to take this off” you squirm and try your hardest not to fall off his lap as you wrestle out of your shirt.

His grip on your hips tightens a little. You miss the groan that manages to pass through his lips, too distracted with your own mission of getting out of the straight jacket of a shirt.

He watches you for a minute, panting at the way you’re accidentally grinding down on him. So focused on getting comfortable that you completely forget where your sitting, or that Uvo’s eyes are watching you undress.

“L-Lets get you into bed first sugar” and he removes your clenched fists from the fabric of your shirt. He’s playing the part of an innocent man, but his true motive is that he wants to savor this. He doesn’t want to rush through the moment so quickly that he doesn’t have time to truly indulge in it. To drown in it.

At this point the drugs are kicking in HARD. All you can think of is your need for.. something. You just need it. And the frustration from the denial is mixing with the pain in your gut.

“No Uvo! I need it off.. all of it off! Please it hurts so bad. Please Uvo...”

You’re crying now, hitting his chest weakly with your closed fists.

Uvo’s lap us soaked from the wetness betwen your thighs. He’s not sure if you even notice. That along with the way you’re throwing your little hissy fit, squirming all over him has his head leaning back against the couch, stifling the moan that’s threatening to make it past his clenched jaw.

He collects himself, taking a deep breath before standing up, hands firmly planted on your ass to keep you as close as possible to his body.

He’s so tall that he has you pressed against his lower abdomen, your legs wrapped as far around his trunk of a torso as they can.

Your moving harder in his hands, panting as he takes you up the stairs.

At first he thinks youre struggling to get away from him, so used to your rejection that it takes him a minute to realize you’re rubbing your clothed crotch against his stomach, sighing at the friction of it.

You don’t even realize your doing it tbh. The drugs clouding your mind of any awareness you had. All you know is that moving your hips is making the pain in your gut a little more tolerable.

Uvo stops and just watches. Your breathing heavy as you rub yourself against him, little whispers of his name passing through your parted lips.

He realizes in that moment that he’s a goner. He expected this to be different, expected you to fight against it tooth and nail just like you fought against him over the months he’s had you. He knows you won’t stay this needy, but even now the intimacy you’ve shown him is enough to last him years to come. He’s prepared to go through whatever means necessary to feel this again.

You don’t even register he’s stopped or his heavy gaze watching you intently. You grab his shirt, hiking it up so you can feel the dips and curves of his stomach, greedily soaking up the soothing warmth against your hands, your body still unconsciously moving against his now exposed chest. 

He listens to you moan in relief, watches as your face contorts in pleasure. Uvo starts walking again, albeit a little quicker this time. His mind wandering to the warm slick you’ve just covered his stomach with. He’s painfully hard, needing it just as much as you do.

And in all honesty I don’t think Uvo could deny you anything besides leaving him ofc.

So he gets you in bed and helps you remove everything besides your underwear even though you tried to take that off too and just waits for it... lays there and holds you, waiting for you to tell him what you want from him.

Yes, he could take you by force if he wanted to but this man craves your love and he knows if you give in willingly you know besides the fact he drugged you you’ll see him as your savior. There for you when your hurting, aching, desperately needing help. 

“Uvo.. please.. shirt off” is all he can make out of your incoherent mumbling.

And this fucker

“Your shirt is already off baby”

He’s making it difficult on purpose. Stringing you out so he can see you sob for him.

“No...no. You undress. Please? Please..”

And that’s enough.

His patience is wearing thin. Months and months of craving you. Wanting you to love him but only getting one word replies and scared tears had him yearning for your affection, to the point it made him sick.

He’s never wanted anything as desperately as he’s wanted you. And you wanting him back? He’ll do anything to have his feelings reciprocated.

He takes everything off, even stripping out of his boxers.

You sob when he pulls away to shuck out of his clothing, fat tears sliding down your face at the loss of his touch.

It only takes him seconds but it’s long enough to have you in hysterics

He shushes you, laying you on his chest as he wraps an arm around your waist. Running his fingers through your hair, whispering in your ear:

“It’s okay”

“I’m here”

“I’m not leaving you baby”

Until you’ve calmed down. His skin on yours is a godsend. You actually kiss him first, moving in as he’s whispering to you and catching him off guard.

It’s open mouthed and sloppy, your need making you desperate.

When he starts to kiss you back you whine into his mouth, not being able to stop yourself from moving your hips.

Uvo grunts, letting himself roll up against you; loving the squeak you let out into his mouth as his hands grasp your hips.

He could stop right now and it would still be the best moment of his life. His tongue in your mouth tasting your desire and his hips moving in tandem with yours. It’s heaven.

To you it’s pure ecstasy. You’ve never experienced this type of gut wrenching pain before. A need so desperate you’ll do anything to quell it.

Even if it meant letting your captor fuck you senseless.

You’re unashamed. There is no room in your head to think about such things when your body is on fire like this, burning as your floor muscles clench and unclench so hard it’s excruciating. Trying desperately to squeeze around something and adding to the fire when they find nothing.

The little drop of relief you felt with Uvo was enough to spur you on. If he was the cure then consequences be damned. You were trapped anyway.

You learned you couldn’t outrun him, definitely couldn’t fight him, and now you’d just proven that given a little push you’d actually be with him. You let the thoughts float away

If this was your bed, you’d lay in it.

“Y/n” he lets out a grunt as the spot between your thighs coats his cock through the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Y/n... let me take these off.”

You don’t respond. Instead you grind down harder against him.

Uvo tears the flimsy material off of you body, your bra following soon after.

He’s watching the way your breasts bounce at the force, eyes only ripping away when a high pitched whine leaves your throat.

Your eyes are closed, only focusing on his cock sliding between your folds with every glide of your hips.

Hot and thick, you sob with relief. And still, it wasn’t enough.

“Please Uvo”

“Please what baby? What do you want?”

And with the most conviction you’ve had tonight you beg him “I need you inside of me. Please Uvo. Make it stop.”

He’s breathless. You’ve never wanted anything. No gift would satisfy you, no amount of money could buy your love. And with one measly pill he’s got you writhing on top of him, begging for him to fill you up with his cock.

It gives him a head rush. The only thing you’ve ever asked for is to be stuffed full.

And we all know Uvo is packing some heat right?

Uvo even knows he’s huge, and right now this mans ain’t trying to tear you open unless you wanted him to.

Even though he wants nothing more than to simply seat himself fully inside the tight clutch of your warmth, and god how easy it’d be in this position to just pick you up and sit you down on his length, he flips over. Being careful not to use too much strength in his excited state, so you’re laying beneath him on the bed.

You’re disoriented, and by the time you even fully process what’s happened he’s got his middle finger knuckle deep inside of you.

You arch your back, vision going black and mouth opening into a silent scream with how hard you cum just from one drop of relief.

And he’s trying so fucking hard to keep it together. The way your eyes roll back and your sex already trying so desperately to milk him, tightly clenching and unclenching around his digit.

He’s sure you’re going to drive him mad with desire.

You catch your breath and Uvo’s panting along with you too.

“Did that feel good baby?” And you nod up at him, still too dazed to speak.

“I bet you needed that huh?” smiling down at you, eyes blown wide with lust.

But even though his finger is plenty thick enough, it’s like your body KNOWS that it wasn’t his cock. You still ache for him, the release just pouring gasoline to the flames licking up your spine.

Your voice is just a whisper when you ask him

“More...” you look up at him, lips puffy and trails of tears running down your face. “Please”

And not for the first time tonight, Uvo almost snaps. He closes his eyes, blinking slowly before he takes a deep breath.

“Fuck baby... yeah, yeah I know what you want. Just. Just let me get you ready first okay?”

You give a reluctant nod and Uvo slides a second finger into you.

Any pain you feel at how thick he is, is masked by the spine curling burn in your veins. All you feel from the stretch is white hot pleasure.

And with a shaky breath your thanking him again, boosting his ego as he flicks his wrist to push and pull at the heat clutching around his fingers.

It feels like he’s stuck in a vice. So tight and wet for him... only ever for him. Eyes blown wide he watches as you shake beneath him, chasing any chance of stopping the pain you feel. He scissors his fingers open. He needs to stretch you out enough to fit.

When you start to get close again he pulls out. While he does want to draw this out, he mostly does it out of curiosity. Wants to see what you’ll do when denied your pleasure.

He gets his answer quickly as you let out a scream of frustration, moving your hands from the sheets beneath you to grip his hair, using all your strength to try and get his mouth down to yours in search of any piece of him you can get.

Obviously he doesn’t budge he’s like a thousand times stronger than you. BUT you do succeed in lifting yourself up to meet his lips, biting at them with a low growl in your throat.

For once in this relationship Uvo feels completely in control. He has you right where he wants you. Completely feral for him. Your reward is not only the return of his digits, but also a third finger fucking deeply into you as well.

“Lay back down” he growls out “ be a good girl for me again”

And you do. You’ll do anything for him. A sigh leaves your lips as the pain recedes, replaced with the pleasure Uvo is giving you. It towed a thin line between pain. Any time he slowed down it creeped into your consciousness again. He was your salvation, your only respite from whatever was doing this to you.

He’s your god, and after what felt like forever, he finally answers your prayers.

“S’gunna sting baby. Don’ wanna hurt you but I can’t... I can’t take any more.”

His fingers are gone. In their place is the head of his cock sliding between the soft petals of your pussy.

Uvo moans at the feeling. The feeling of you wanting him, slick and waiting for him.

Such a pretty little thing. He wants to mark you up, leave your body bruised with his signature. To feel the weight of your breasts in his mouth. Wants to bite down gently on your shoulder and taste the iron of your blood on his tongue. To feel your lips swallowing around him, to drown in the taste of your cunt as it clenches on his tongue. He wants every single part of you. But most of all, He wants to ruin you.

You moan, pulling him out of his reverie. “I - I need more Uvo! Not enough, please.”

All of those things can wait for now. His focus in this moment is on making you realize just how much you need him.

Gritting his teeth he slides the tip in, watching with wide eyes as it disappears inside of you.

It’s stretches you out, a whine escaping at the noticble sting of it. Uvo watches your face before slowly plunging deeper within you. You let out a cry as he stretches you out.

after a few pushes and pulls, slowly fucking you open Uvo finally sinks down until he’s fully sheathed inside, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He’s paralyzed for a moment, his attention solely on how warm and wet you are. It’s firm yet gentle around him. Better than everything he imagined. Like silk, only alive, and he swears he can feel your heartbeat enveloping him.

He buries his head in your neck, licking a stripe up a line of sweat until he’s kissing you again. Swallowing every whimper that slips past your swollen lips.

His mouth stays on yours as he slowly pulls back and ruts his hips against yours completely for the first time. You’re scratching his back and god he wishes you could mark him up. Wishes beyond measure that he could carry the sting of you wherever he goes.

“Yeah..right t-there. Fuck!”

 Your shy demeanor is being forcibly torn away. This is the first time he’s heard you curse, the sound of it making him let out a low growl. Thoughts of how he’s awoken some part of you he’d never seen before floating into his mind. his dirty little girl... he wonders how far he can push you until it becomes too much? It’s a question for another day. One where you’re used to taking his hard length, a day he’s not fucking you open.

“Tell me how you feel sweetheart”

You can’t even remember your own name, let alone construct a fully fledged sentence for the man above you. He’s pressing something deep within you that’s making your head even more dizzy than it was before. You clutch him as he rolls onto his back, laying you on his chest as he swivels his hips up into you, lazily grinding against your clit until your mewling.

“You needed this? Needed me? Just too shy to say it...”

He’s rambling, too far gone with pleasure to dice his words.

“Wanted to fill you up for a long time. You love this huh sweetheart? Love me inside of you like this.. so tight, made for me...All mine.” And then he quiets for a moment. His thoughts leading him elsewhere.

He pulls you tighter against his chest, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. Trailing his hand down to your clit, picking up the pace as he feels the beginning of your orgasm approach.

The pain is a distant memory at this point. The only feeling now was the all consuming pleasure Uvo was giving you. You try to writhe against him as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap, but his grip is iron clad on you. You’re so close, so close that your back starts to try to arch against him.

But with grunt he pulls completely out of you, steeling himself against the agonized wail that pass through your lips.

 “Tell me you love me y/n.”

The denial.. the pain slowly consuming you once again. Your cunt clenches around nothing, broken cries leaving your dry throat.

“Say it and I’ll make you feel better. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. “

He’s tense but his words are desperate. Brows furrowed as you try, and fail, to squirm out of his grip.

“Uvo...”

“Say it for me sweetheart.”

You gulp, the choice excruciatingly clear as the seconds tick on.

Uvo I ... I love you.” it’s whisper quiet but the way that his fucks back up into your aching core with renewed vigor is proof enough that he’s heard you.

Delirious with your confession he starts talking again. Mumbles interlaced with his sounds of pleasure of how good you are, how tight, how he’d kill anyone who harmed you, whatever you want is yours just say the word, he’s yours. All of him until he draws his last breath.

As he hits that sweet spot inside of you again and again and again the coil snaps. A pleasured cry wrenches what little voice you have left from your sore throat as you’re hit full force. You can’t help how your body thrashes to escape his grip. He makes you cum so hard you almost pass out, black dots clouding your vision as he stills inside of you.

He stops thinking, stops talking as his mouth falls open at the clench of your pussy around him. You squeeze his length, so hard that he doesn’t have to move to cum. He lets your body finish him as he plays with your clit, turning a deaf ear to your overstimulated whine. 

The feeling of your pussy milking the rest of his release inside of you quickly becoming addicting. He’s never cum so hard in his life.

Months of pent of frustration paint your walls, the warmth seeming to soothe what is left of the painful ache of the drugs in your system. You let out a sigh of relief and relax as Uvo moves so he can spoon you, making sure to stay firmly rooted between your legs.

He pets your hair and whispers praises between gentle kiseses to you neck. You must be so exhausted, he knows. You let your eyelids droop, nows not the time to think about consequences. With Uvo’s strong arms wrapped around you, his cock still buried deep, you let yourself be lulled to sleep.

#uvo #uvogin #yandere uvogin #hunter x hunter #uvogin x reader #uvo x reader #reader insert #headcanon #yandere x reader

[mikeisthricedeceased]

Mike, dear, I need to know how much marcus m would love to be held down and ridden. Like arms pinned down over his head no where to go ridden hard and put away wet.

Oh, Julia. I’m so sorry this took so long. It’s been forever and there’s a good chance that you don’t even remember sending this.

I had a good bit of it written out shortly after you sent this, but then decided I didn’t like what I wrote and ended up falling into a long period of writer’s block before I could rewrite it

Hopefully, this kinda makes up for the wait

Warnings: D/s, choking, light roleplay, bruising, fighting as foreplay, very mild degradation

~ Smut 18+ under the cut ~

“I always forget,” Marcus pants as he pushes himself back onto his feet, “that we both end up covered in bruises after doing the ‘Hero and Villain’ thing.” He rolls his shoulder, wincing slightly as the muscle strains before it relaxes.

You laugh breathlessly, holding a hand over where he’d gotten a hit in on your side. “You’re the one that suggested it. I think you just like playing villain sometimes. Get to try out all those pent up one liners.”

He wheezes out a laugh. “You got me.”

“C’mon,” you nod to the house and reach for his hand, “we should shower. I don’t want to smell gross when we pick Missy up from school.” Then, you smile and whisper, “Plus, I want to get a few kisses in before she’s home to say ‘ew.’”

When you try to pull him toward the door, he pulls you back. “It’s Friday, honey. Ms. Vox is picking her up.”

It takes you a moment to remember. “The sleepover. Right.”

Marcus hums, smiling softly. “But we can still head to the shower and do some kissing.”

You squeeze his hand as you look him over. “Not yet.” At his look of surprise, you continue, “Since we have the time, I think I want to go another round. I’ll be the villain this time, and you’ll be the dashing hero.”

He grins when you pat his cheek, a brow raised. “Dashing, huh?”

“Oh, very.”

There’s a beat as he just looks at you, considering. “One round?”

You nod, brushing your fingers through the short hair curling over the top of his ear.

He sighs. “Okay. One round.”

~*~*~*~

It starts off like a usual round of sparring; full contact, adding bruises on top of bruises and spiking adrenaline. You exchange breathless quips and dart around one another. No weapons, no powers.

The first time your hand brushes along his ribs instead of fully landing, he assumes it’s a miscalculation and moves to take advantage.

But you twist away like you’re ready for it. Your next strike is the same, barely bumping his shoulder. Things continue like that for a while, skimming touches that ignite a particular form of frustration that he doesn’t usually feel when sparring.

He’s fully onto the game by the time your palm brushes his inner thigh when you duck under his swing. He returns the favor, pressing a hand to your lower back as he steps around you at one point. His pulse spikes when he catches the sharp look in your eyes once you’re face to face again, both shuffling around each other near the edge of the training mat.

“The fences are pretty tall,” you say suddenly, gaze steady on him.

The comment throws him off but you don’t move to take advantage, instead waiting for him to respond. “Fences?” is all he can manage, confused.

He watches your eyes move, can feel them drag down his body.

You meet his gaze again, lips quirking. “No one is coming to your rescue here, Moreno. They won’t even know you’re in danger until it’s too late.”

The offer behind the actual words registers and heat prickles along the back of his neck. “I’m not worried about a rescue. Your tricks don’t work on me.”

“So confident,” you say, subtly pushing forward to get him closer to the edge of the mat, “I’ll have to prove you wrong.”

He wets his lips and nods. “Be my guest.”

The urge to touch him is almost unbearable, only ramping up as you watch his gaze drop to follow a bead of sweat roll down your neck.

You lunge for him and he braces for the impact, but you pull back at the last second. He isn’t prepared for you to twist toward his side and plant a foot behind his leg, using what’s left of your forward momentum as you push his chest, forcing him backward.

Stumbling, he gives a surprised shout and falls back, upper body landing in the grass and legs splayed out on the mat.

You’re on him immediately, straddling his chest and pinning his arms over his head.

His chest heaves under you as he catches his breath, eyes wide.

“Sure you won’t be needing that rescue?”

The look in his eyes burns you from the inside out. You let go of his hands and he tries to reach for you, only to be foiled by a set corded roots wrapped around each of his wrists. He looks at them with a frown. “Thought we said no powers?”

You smile slyly, leaning close to his face. “Villains fight dirty, Marcus,” you whisper, kissing his cheek.

He huffs.

“If you really want them off, I’ll take them off.” You shift to straddle his hips, your hands sliding down his chest. “Otherwise,” you continue softly, sitting back on the tops of his thighs, “you can stay right where you are,” your finger hooks into the waistband of his shorts and you bite your lip as you meet his eyes, “and we can have a little fun.”

Groaning, he lets his head fall back onto the grass. “Fuck.” He looks back up at you, those soft brown eyes now endless and dark as he squirms between your thighs, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Leave them on.”

“Yeah?”

Even when you’re being a little intimidating with him, he can still see how your expression brightens through it all. Somehow, that makes the whole thing even sexier to him, knowing how pleased you are. The way you’re sliding his waistband down doesn’t hurt either.

Then it’s like all the frustration that had been building up is finally set free. You lean down, catching his mouth in a messy clash as you tug his shorts lower until you can get a hand on him. The angle is awkward, his hips a bit higher than his torso because of how he’s laying halfway off the mat, and you’re barely able to hold yourself over him with one arm.

But you’re kissing him, a hand around his cock while you trace the crown with the tip of your thumb, tasting every gasp and moan as you stroke, and it’s worth the slight twinge in your forearm.

His hips jerk. “Like it when you play the villain,” he grunts.

You hum, biting his lower lip and relishing his sharp intake of breath, how he desperately fucks into your fist when you squeeze him a little tighter. “I like having you where I want you,” you tell him. “And you always look so good when we spar like this. Out of breath, sweaty, hair a fucking mess. Been wanting to ride you since the third round.”

He curses, eyes squeezing shut. You kiss down his neck, the salt on his hot skin making you groan. He swallows and you can feel his throat bob under your lips. “Do it,” he pleads gruffly. “Ride me. Please, baby.”

It’s your turn to curse as you push yourself off of him. Kicking your shoes off, you frantically shimmy out of your workout pants and underwear, only pausing for a moment when you catch sight of him.

He’s watching, lips parted and chest still heaving. There’s a hot blush across his cheeks and down his neck, making him look thoroughly ravished.

And you haven’t even really started yet.

He says your name, voice rough while he blinks up at you and shifts his legs, still restricted by his shorts.

You straddle him again, down on your knees, and kiss him hard. The moan that rises out of him fills your chest and warms your blood. It pushes you to reach down and take hold of him again, to get the angle right and sink down until your moan is mixed with his.

This is usually slow. You’d take your time and explore, toeing the line until neither of you could hold back any longer.

Today, though...today, you’re riding hard and fast because you feel like you’ll combust if you don’t.

So, you kiss him until you can’t breathe, all tongue and teeth and frustration, grinding down on his cock. You sit up and bounce, tugging his shirt up so you can drag your nails over his chest and stomach, steadying yourself while leaving half-moons in his skin.

He tries to hold your gaze but the angle is wrong with his hands tied over his head, and you can see tendons strain in his neck when he holds up his head. So you wrap a hand around his throat to keep him down, making him whine and buck up into you.

“Fearless leader,” you growl, taunting, “so eager to give in. What would your team think?”

Marcus shudders, muscles tensing as his back arches. “Harder,” he gasps.

You dig your nails in and tighten your hold on his neck, earning a voiceless whine. “One nudge in the right direction,” you fuck down onto him hard, “and you completely fall apart.”

His head is full of white noise and everything else is sensation. He hears you tell him to come as you let go of his throat, and there isn’t anything else he can do as his whole body is flooded with pleasure, hot and slick and you, you, you.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to open his eyes but he’s looking up at the sky, panting, feeling your breath against his neck.

“Good boy,” you’re whispering, fingers tangled in his hair, “Did so good for me, Marcus.”

His shoulders ache and the roots are gone but he can still feel where they’d been wrapped around his wrists, the skin itchy.

Slowly, groaning at the shift in position, he brings his arms down and holds you.

“We still have that stuff you make? For the bruises?” he grits out.

You laugh softly. “Yeah, and I can make more if we need it.”

He pats your back. “We might.”

“Painkillers, too.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “God, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you snort, kissing his shoulder.

#huliabitch #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #ask prompt

[littlekatleaf]

I am the offering and the fire which consumes it

In which Junkrat and Roadhog rob a Hindu temple. (Shameless kinkfic. PWP)

In the embrace of his beloved a man forgets the whole world, everything both within and without; in the same way, he who embraces the Self, knows neither within nor without. — Brihadaranyaka Upanishad

“Swear that fuckin’ game musta been rigged,” Junkrat said as they walked down the hall. He patted Hana’s arm. “You shoulda won, no question.”

“No big,” she shrugged, unconcerned. “Everyone loses sometimes.”

“Too right - when the opponent’s a cheat. Me an’ Roadie’ll take care of him for ya.” Junkrat pressed his hand to the locking panel and the door opened with a hiss. Hana followed him into the room, glancing around curiously.

Roadhog looked up from the book he was reading. “Take care of who?”

“Drongo what cheated the D.Va. Think he needs a lesson.”

Roadhog turned to her and his voice went low and cold. “Just give us a name.”

“Woah woah, guys,” she held up her hands. “It’s just a stupid show competition. It wasn’t even ranked.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing. Not to mention, been too bloody quiet around here. Trigger finger gettin’ itchy.”

“You have principles,” Roadhog said, skepticism clear in his tone. 

“In me own way.” Junkrat crossed his arms over his chest. “Can’t believe ya doubt me, Roadie. Breakin’ me heart.”

Hana’d clearly moved on to other things - she picked up a small silver figurine, cocked her head. “Why do you have a Ganesh,” she asked.

Junkrat grinned, glancing at Roadhog from the corner of his eye. “Ya ever been to a Hindu temple?”

She shook her head. “You’re telling me you have?”

“Course! Might not guess it, but Roadie ‘n me are dead spiritual.” Junkrat bit his lip, trying to hold in the laughter that was bubbling. Gods, the memory of that night… hadn’t thought of it in ages. Could practically smell the incense just looking at the Ganesh. Sandalwood and plumeria. Sweet and spice. He rubbed his nose, wondered if there was any left stashed somewhere. Heat radiated from the center of his stomach until he was suffused. Felt Roadhog staring. Even through the smoked lenses of his mask, his gaze burned.

Then Roadhog snorted a laugh and Junkrat finally let the giggles spill free.

Hana frowned. “I know I’m missing something here, but…”

“Don’t ask,” Roadhog said.

Suspicious, Hana narrowed her eyes, but then yawned hugely. “Probably better not to,” she agreed. “Too tired to deal with whatever … shenanigans were going on.”

“Now ya sound like Morrison.” The word sounded hilarious, coming from her.

“Night guys. Or should I say, g’noight mates.” She saluted.

“One of these days yer accent’s gonna kill someone.” But he was still grinning as he locked the door behind her.

The color was high on Roadhog’s neck, his shoulders were tight. He’d picked up the Ganesh, cradled it carefully. Looked tiny in his palms. Such big hands. Capable of immense violence and, unexpectedly, equally immense gentleness. Never once did Roadhog hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. Or want it.

“Thinkin’ about the Temple heist.” Junkrat wasn’t really asking. Could tell Roadhog was.

They were smoking that night, passing a joint back and forth as they wandered through the London streets. Hadn’t had a plan in mind - only arrived that morning. Body thought it was time for brekkie, though was well past midnight. To Rat’s perplexed bemusement, Roadie was actually humming a song under his breath. Teased a memory somewhere on the edge of Junkrat’s thoughts but everything felt hazy and he couldn’t put a finger on it.

“You’re quiet,” Roadhog said as he passed the roach back.

Junkrat sucked a lungful of smoke and held it. Shrugged. “You ain’t.” When he spoke the words puffed out in a cloud.

“Huh,” Roadhog seemed surprised. “Hadn’t noticed.”

As he handed the last of the joint back to Roadhog, a glint caught his gaze and his eyes widened. “Crikey, Hog. Get a load o’ that place!” Ornately carved arch stretched over a gleaming silver door. “The hell is that?”

Roadhog followed his gaze. “Looks like a Hindu temple.”

Junkrat stopped, considering. “With a door like that, gotta figure they’ve got some decent shit in there….”

Roadhog also paused. “Not sure I like where this is going.”

“Hey, we ain’t hit anything in days. Gotta make this shit worth your while or you’re gonna quit bein’ my bodyguard.” Junkrat crossed his arms. Little miffed Roadie might not approve of his plan. Idea. Supposed wasn’t detailed enough to technically qualify as a plan. But they’d pulled off plenty of heists without one, technical or otherwise.

Roadhog sighed, tossing the end of the joint in a bin. “Fine, let’s do it.”

Junkrat grinned. “Right.”

It’d been ridiculously easy to break in. Seemed like God would have better security than an ancient crook vid camera that even he could hack, and an even more ancient Claytons Cop sound asleep in his office who didn’t even twitch when they passed by.

The main sanctuary was lined with small niches, each holding several golden statues of goddesses looped with gold chains and pendants, surrounded by flowers, candles, incense, and plates of money and food worshippers had left as offerings. Junkrat started pocketing cash from the offering plates and gold chains, a small silver statue of an elephant god, but after only a minute realized his nose was itching. Strange sensation… not like he was getting sick, not even like the usual insistent sharpness of allergies. Lighter, just barely there. Teasing the edges.

Rubbed his nose, sniffed. Unfortunately did no good at all. Still those light itching tickles that maybe felt like a sneeze? Maybe? No… ? He sighed, a somewhat wavery sound that had Roadhog glancing over.

“”M f...fine,” he managed. Talking made it worse, but still not enough to go anywhere. He blinked, slowly. At his foot wisps of smoke rose from incense sticks, floating up on random air currents. It was a heady smell, sweetness edged with spice. He breathed it in, and it felt like the tendrils had curled into his nostrils. The tickling sensation teased, a will-it, won’t-it, that had his whole body in a state of oddly pleasant, if confused, anticipation. 

Roadhog’s boots thudded on the marble floors as he crossed the room. Junkrat tried to smile, even through the fluttering desire.

“I… hihIssshew!” The sneeze sent him stumbling forward and he put out a hand to catch himself. Roadhog steadied him. “Sorry, just… hit’issshew!” Even with both, his nose still tingled and the way Roadhog was staring brought the heat up in his face. “I think…” he paused, waiting. Again? It was such an insubstantial feeling, and the sneezes didn’t really clear it, they were too floaty. “Think I might be…” A breath. Another breath. “Allergic… Huh R’aahshh!” The last one echoed in the sanctuary and the cop let out a snort and they’d run. But not before Junkrat’d pocketed a packet of incense sticks. 

They’d sold off all of the treasure, except for the little silver Ganesh. Now Junkrat opened a drawer, and discovered a few remaining sticks. He held one up, and a joint. “Again?”

Roadhog lit the joint as Junkrat lit the incense and they lay back on the bed together, staring up at the curls of smoke that rose to the ceiling. In the background music pulsed, deep bass, lighter electronic tones over. Something of Lucio’s. Fit perfectly with the dreaming feeling that was suffusing his body.

His skin buzzed gently, as though infused with smoke and music. The lightest tickling sensation edged his nose again with the sweet spice smoke. Everywhere tingled, wanting, and like Roadie knew, he peeled the shirt from Junkrat and ran his hands over his chest, calluses scratching just slightly. Rat sighed, a puff of air. “Tickles,” he said, meaning his skin, his nose, everything.

Roadie said nothing, just watched. He’d taken off the mask to smoke and his eyes were bright, burning.

“Feels… so good.” A surprise. Never minded sneezing, exactly. Specially when he knew what it did to Roadhog, but never realized how it felt. The exquisite ache as the sensation built up. His eyes drifted closed, better to focus on the sensation. “Hih-isshew! Issh! Issh! Isshuh!” The sneezes tumbled out of him in a rush, one almost over top of the next.

“Bless you, Rat.”

Wanted to say ‘thank you,’ but couldn’t get the words out, disappeared in the haze and the need to sneeze again. “Huh… isshew!  Hih-issshah! Issh!” Sweet scents floating over him, Roadhog’s fingers drifting over his skin. Piano over the bass, notes dropping into the center of him. Felt like he was drowning in sensation. 

Then Roadhog’s hands at his hips, unbuckling his belt, tugging open his shorts, freeing his cock. Mouth closed warm around him and he gasped and reached for Roadie as well. Rat rubbed his nose against Roadhog’s thigh, the rough denim satisfying the itchiness. Took Roadie into his mouth, only stopping to sneeze every now and again when the feathery tickle grew too strong.

They moved together with the music, moving like waves and the desire burned through Junkrat, not like the explosion but like the bright burn of a candle, the warm glow of the edge of a stick of incense. And when the fire consumed him, he let himself dissolve into it.

#oversnez #snzfic #look I managed a shortfic #R/oadrat #it's 1 am I must be posting smut #everybody must get stoned

[xathia-89]

Alpha & Omega

NSFW a little. 

The pain was immense, I was clutching at my stomach as I tried to stagger to my room without being noticed. It was taking everything to not wish I was back in the future where medication controlled everything of a heat cycle. It was something that no one had to face without assistance in five hundred years time, but I had run out of medication after arriving here nearly three months ago. I groaned weakly and my legs gave out from under me.

I was panting as sweat was pouring off my body, curling into myself as the maids began to rush around me. Sympathy was wide, and a couple of the girls were already questioning which warlord would be best to disturb about my situation.

The castle was full of alphas, and being an omega in heat was going to cause a lot of problems as three of the girls managed to help get me back into my room.

“Just… what…” Hideyoshi’s voice floated through my haze but the maids weren’t letting anyone near to the room. I heard a possessive growl and then a storming of footsteps away before anyone dared to open the door.

I had kept it hidden that I was an omega, this was the first time anything had shown, and it was hell for any omega without an alpha to go through a heat. I could faintly hear discussions around me, though the important part was to get me out of my kimono and bathed in fresh water. Air hitting my skin was overstimulation for me, provoking me into a taunting reminder that I couldn’t hide from my true self. Most of the world was beta, nothing affected them like it would for the two exceptions, and it was in their nature to protect the weak from the overbearing. Even to the point that some betas would present themselves in front of an alpha to stop them from taking an omega.

“Princess?” One of the maids was carefully trying to tie my hair up and off my neck. It was essential to keep contact to a minimum, it became painful at times as I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I could hear the water being poured into a tub as the last of my kimono was peeled off my slick skin.

“One minute,” I managed to mutter, opening my eyes enough to find my way to the tub. I had been clutching at various hands to help me to the tub, before quickly submerging myself in the water. I swore I could hear steam escaping from how hot I was feeling.

“My Lord-” Hideyoshi’s voice was back and rushed from outside my room, though the footsteps all ceased at my door. “This was the worst idea I think I’ve heard yet,” the vassal muttered, his voice covered by his sleeve.

“You are in trouble for withholding this from us Kohana,” Nobunaga never used my name, as I tried to smile at the fact that I was in serious trouble with the warlord. “We will need to deal with this,” he was abrupt, my scents making things too difficult to continue before they both had to leave from the other side of the door.

“You kept it quiet for a long time, it’s very impressive,” one of the maids was praising me, completely oblivious to my true nature before leaving to ensure that I would be cared for appropriately over the next few days.

***

Each warlord had kept their distance until the maids had ensured that my heat had passed. It was just as bad for any alpha who caught a whiff of an omega in heat, and I had the feeling that most of the staff had been taking on more than usual from the sluggish movements from several of the girls. Attending a council was not a good idea from my point of view, I would be surrounded by several alphas just after my first flourishing heat but I had already made the bed for myself at this point.

I had no real idea of how things worked in this era, I had purposely tried to ignore the obvious, that I would be running out of medication at some point. And I wasn’t involved with any of the warlords romantically at this point either. Nobunaga was likely to put his claim on me given his status in the castle, but I was trying to then keep an open and positive mindset on the perspective.

The atmosphere was heavy, and I was the last to arrive. I had never appreciated the gravity of the situation until I saw that even Mitsuhide wasn’t smiling or looking to tease.

“The past few days have been hell on all of us,” Nobunaga opened, his wine-red eyes focused on me as the men all watched me with diligence. “Why keep this from us?”

“Because I didn’t want things to change,” I dared to meet the challenging gaze of the Lord of Azuchi. “I am not used to the natural order as you all are,” my voice was strained a little as I felt the pinpricks of heat begin to flare across my back. There was simply too much testosterone for me to cope with, my body was dropping closer to the floor in automatic submission before I could stop myself. “It was all controlled,” my voice was a whimper as I felt the need to bare myself in front of the men. “Please, this was all a mistake-”

I was pressed against a chest, my eyes squeezed shut before I was in their arms and rescued from the oppressive room. I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes and see where I was going, I knew exactly who it was from his scent, but I wanted to keep the illusion of everything being okay for myself.

“You have no idea how hard it was to walk away from you the first time,” Hideyoshi’s voice was a gravelly whisper before I was laid down on his futon. His eyes were soaking up my flushed state.

“Please, it hurts,” I whimpered, my fingers shakily trying to pull on his clothing to initiate the intimacy of a first time.

A kiss ghosted my forehead, and then the air was teasing at my exposed chest. His lips were the work of a masterpiece, slowly kissing down my throat, his tongue lapping at every patch available to him before finally taking a nipple into his mouth.

I nearly came from the relief of an alpha’s touch. My back arching off the futon in eagerness for more as his hands rested on my waist. I was simply being held in place as he lavished his attention on my breast. His teeth were nibbling on my nipple, sucking hard on the flesh as he made sure I couldn’t interfere with his plans by moving away.

My cries went unheeded, as he decided that my other breast needed the same attention, making sure to leave no part of my skin untouched.

“Please,” a whimper I never thought I would hear outside of the movies escaped from my mouth. My kimono was practically destroyed by a combination of slick, tears and wrinkles from our eagerness to fulfil nature’s desire, as I shuffled my hips forward. I had no idea what had me possessed at this moment, but I was desperate for one thing only.

My body was pressed flat against his. Everything else was too itchy and heavy as my nails dragged down his back, needing to feel every millimetre of his muscles. His mouth was powerful, claiming and demanding submission from me as I felt the head of his cock brush against my slit.

“Please,” I repeated softly, feeling his hesitation as though the clouds had broken on the situation for the warlord. My body was so tightly wound it was painful, and the release was within reach. “I need this, Hideyoshi,” I nuzzled along his neck before feeling myself stretch out in all sorts of full.

***

The maids hadn’t been able to come close for several days. Everything had to be left at the end of the corridor, and it was certain that no other male could even cross the borders of Hideyoshi’s manor. It would be seen as a challenge to his authority, just as much as me wearing clothing was if he hadn’t dressed me in it.

It was the first time I was allowed anywhere without Hideyoshi. A new pairing was always going to be rough, but I sighed in delight at the feeling of cool water as I submerged myself in the tub. My heat had passed, and it was the first time either hormones hadn’t been ruling our actions as all of the maids knew better than to linger in either of our presence. I knew we had both been ruling on instincts, and it was the first time I had a clear mind and body in days.

I knew that all of my things were being collected from the castle to move into the manor, it simply wasn’t an option not to. And the other warlords would be giving me the due berth, even Mitsuhide wouldn’t challenge Hideyoshi in this state. Masamune had been sending snack boxes over to the kitchens for us and it was the first time that Nobunaga was even considering calling a war council.

I could feel Hideyoshi’s confusion. He wanted nothing more than to keep me hidden and stay near to me constantly, but then he was sworn to Nobunaga’s service.

“Hideyoshi?” I had to ensure to keep my position from trying to upset him, we were both still adjusting to our new relationship and it wasn’t that clear or straightforward. “I know you wouldn’t appreciate the other warlords seeing me, but taking me with you to the council means I would be with you all the time?” I suggested meekly, ensuring that my gaze didn’t falter from his face. “I could bring some sewing work and sit next to you,” I smiled softly at him.

His sigh was one of reluctance, but a kiss to my forehead nearly made me melt into him. “If I could have it so none of the other men could see you ever, I would, but your solution provides the best compromise regarding serving my Lord and protecting you.”

I was dressed in the colours Hideyoshi wore, and the only male who dared to even glance over me was Nobunaga as we took our seats in the council. I had taken my place in Hideyoshi’s shadow, using his body as a guard and trying to not agitate his new senses and reactions.

“I will need to address you both in private,” Nobunaga opened, before resuming the normal duties that required the attention of the councils. Hideyoshi’s hand kept seeking out mine, before I found it was easier to rest my body gently against his back, the constant weight enabling him to focus on the problems of rice and water.

He was warm, and a familiar scent by this point as my head rested against his shoulder blade. My eyes weren’t staying open as easily, maybe just letting my eyes rest for a few minutes would be a good idea. Hideyoshi was likely to want to ensure that I still smelt of him after this meeting.

“Natsuki?” Someone was shaking my shoulder, but I was too comfortable where I was. I grumbled and kept my eyes shut, snuggling into the warmth and nuzzling against the chest I was against. “Natsuki,” a soft groan as my body seemed to be wrapped in a soft layer and I didn’t want to move from it. “Come on, you fell asleep during council-”

“You are clearly wearing her out,” I froze at the sound of Nobunaga’s voice, before slowly opening an eye. I was tucked safely in my alpha’s arms and wrapped up in his haori with my head nestled in the crook of his elbow and his Lord now smirking at the sight before him. “Apparently the council was not to your taste,” he was teasing us both as I slowly went to sit up in Hideyoshi’s lap, feeling very embarrassed at my situation. “Though no one noticed until you fell over.”

Hideyoshi was blushing red whilst helping me to sit up, I had been there for a while since he was fidgeting in a manner that gave away the pins and needles.

“What did you need to talk to us about anyway?” I asked, whilst brushing the sleep out of my eyes with the edge of my nail.

“The changes that are now to take place,” Nobunaga was speaking matter of fact. “It was assumed you were a beta on arrival, nothing gave you away.”

“The future has medication to quell the problems so you can have a normal lifestyle. You still get heats per se, but it’s nothing like what I have recently experienced,” I explained. “I assumed you were all mated since you have regulars attending to your needs, and it never varied.”

“You knew this would happen at some point,” Hideyoshi frowned, his mother hen mode coming into play.

“At some point, I was going to give myself away, but it never seemed like a good time to have the conversation with anyone and mention that I’m not a beta because it would mean explaining the future, and you two were always busy whenever the chance came up,” I sighed. It was all excuses, I hadn’t wanted to face the inevitable but then it had happened the day after I ran out of medication.

“Doesn’t it upset the order of things to not have the heats and ruts?” Nobunaga was genuinely curious, taking his seat next to us.

“It’s not that you don’t have them, it’s that they are more controlled and not as violent. They don’t control your life in such a manner. As an omega, I’m given various leeways with my life. I’m not expected to attempt to attend work during a heat but heats only last for three days and they’ve developed toys that help with the heats as well. So you get the satisfaction without the need to find an alpha,” I explained, not daring to lift my eyes off the floor. “You can live a life without a need to revolve it around heats and ruts, so you have a more level field for everyone to participate with each other.”

“And pregnancy?” Hideyoshi was hesitant, after just realising how often we had bonded together over the past few days.

“Tends to occur when you only come off the medication intentionally for that purpose,” I gave a small smile. “I’m not sure how fertile my eggs would have been during that heat since it normally suppresses things for a couple of cycles of heats after the medication is stopped,” I was playing with the hem of my kimono as I realised I was probably going to end up in a constant state of pregnancy in this era.

“At least the problem of which alpha is taking care of you is already established,” Nobunaga was all business, nodding at his vassal. “Though I will not hesitate to take over should things not go according to plan,” the Lord of Azuchi declared casually.

“Yes, my Lord,” Hideyoshi bowed to the man before gathering my sewing project together to leave.

“Look after her monkey, or we will all pounce,” Nobunaga was laughing as my back was turned. I could already picture the expression as a blush furiously coloured Hideyoshi’s cheeks before rushing to get me back to his manor.

#Hideyoshi Toyotomi #ikesen #Ikémen Sengoku #ikemen sengoku

[honeybee-babe]

Sharing is Caring (Except When You’re Sick) Part 3

Part three of my collab Sick Luther and Sick Klaus fic with @hargreevesstyles. Can also be read on her blog!

Meanwhile, at the CVS check-out counter, Klaus held the sleeve of the hoodie Diego had forced him to wear up to his face.

“Hih… xngt-ishuu! Ht’TDZshieww!” He scrunched up his nose afterwards and the itchiness that had barely been affected by the sneezes, and rubbed his hoodie-sleeve covered knuckles underneath his nostrils to prevent another outburst. Diego tried not to watch. He would definitely be washing that before he wore it again. In fact, maybe he’d just give it to Klaus.

“Bless you, dear!” The middle-aged cashier flashed him a warm smile as she put the cough suppressants and expectorants (“Might as well get both, knowing you!”) into a brown paper bag.

“Thanks! I’ll take that!” Klaus said with a grin as he took the bag from her, punctuating the sentence with a watery sniffle. Diego rolled his eyes, not looking up from the card reader as he punched in his pin. The total was a bit higher than he’d hoped for, but he tried not to let his frustration show. At this insistence of Vanya’s frantically scribbled list, they’d stocked up on tissues, cough drops, Gatorade, the whole nine yards, even buying extra of the stuff they already had at home. Plus Emergen-C for Klaus. And ice cream, he’d insisted on ice cream (“It’s for Luther! It’ll help with his throat.”). Yeah, right. But Diego had agreed, not wanting to waste time arguing with a pouty Klaus. He just wanted to get home and give everyone their pills ASAP.

“Always best to plan ahead, I guess, hmm?” The cashier smiled at Diego, holding up the last remaining item -- Echinacea -- and putting it in the bag turned to Diego. “You make sure your boyfriend takes this right away before that cold gets worse!” Diego blushed deep red. Klaus chuckled out loud, stopping himself when he felt a bit of a tickle forming in his throat at the tail end of it. He cleared his throat subtly, which subdued it, but it still lingered a bit.

“Will do. But he’s not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”

“Oh my god.” The cashier brought her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay. We’re not exactly twins -- and I’m not sick,” Klaus said with a proud smile. “It’s for my brother.”

“You’re sick?” The cashier looked at Diego with a raised brow.

“No,” he sighed, “he means our other brother.”

Speaking of brothers and twins, Five was surprised to find Allison and Vanya speaking in hushed tones in the living room. He licked the peanut butter off his fingers as he stood in the entryway and watched them deep in conversation

“I don’t know, Van. But I’ve never seen him so sick, he’s always had a pretty decent immune system”.

“But then how did he get so sick?” Vanya asked, voice soft and scared. “I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Five cut in, crossing his arms smugly over his chest as he stepped into. Allison whipped her head up at him and shot him daggers.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about, Five.”

“Let me guess, you’re talking about Luther, who is sick, and you’re trying to figure out how it happened.”

“Is this some sort of weird twin thing?”

“No, Allison. It’s a having-a-brain thing.”

Five explained how it really hadn’t been that difficult to figure it out, even without his ability to literally jump through his brother’s locked bedroom door -- which he’d only done once, when he heard him whimpering, thank you very much. The fact that Luther had been holed up in his room for two days was enough for him to draw that conclusion -- and let’s just say the largest Hargreeves sibling wasn’t exactly the best at stifling his sneezes. Plus, Five had passed by the pot of chicken soup boiling on the stove. It had to be for someone.

“And to answer your previous question,” Five turned to Vanya, “have you ever tried living in complete isolation for four years? Because I doubt you would feel very healthy when -- “

“We come bearing gifts!” Klaus stood in the doorway to the house, holding up one of the paper bags from the drugstore up above his head with a huge grin on his face. Even despite his chipper energy, his red-tinged nose and slightly-more-pronounced than usual pallor was unmistakable. As was the slight hoarseness of his voice.

Diego trailed behind with two more bags, filled to the brim. You couldn’t even see his face behind them. Vanya rushed to grab one of the bags off of Diego. As they started unpacking everything, Klaus started laughing.

He joked, “What, are we opening up our very own hospital?”

“Come here, ghost boy. We’ve gotta get some of this stuff in you,” Diego ordered.

Klaus groaned and sat down next to his stabby brother. Diego opened the Emergen-C and a water bottle and poured the drink mix in. He shook it up and handed it to Klaus who just set it down beside him.

“Drink it, headass,” Five said.

Again, Klaus groaned. He opened the bottle and drank about a quarter of it. As soon as he put the bottle down, Diego was forcing pills into his hands. Mucinex and Sudafed along with a couple of cough drops.

“I’m not sick!” Klaus said.

Vanya jumped in, “You’re going to catch it. The thermometer I brought downstairs that Diego took your temperature with...I had just used it on Luther and I don’t think we cleaned it in between uses, and...yeah.”

“Hh’-gkSCHh-nGXTchiew! Hh’tsxchyuu!” Klaus caught the sneezes in his palms like normal, but what he forgot was that Diego’s sweatshirt was about four times his size and the sleeves draped over his hands. “Sorry.” He sniffled lightly.

“Bless you,” Allison said pointedly.

The attention of the whole room was on Klaus, something he’d usually bask in but this time he felt vulnerable and uncomfortable in the spotlight.

He grumbled, “I’m not sick! I sneeze all the time!”

Five shrugged, “He’s not wrong.” Still he picked up the thermometer off of the coffee table and blinked over to Klaus’ side. “Open up.”

“Really? This? Agai-ow, what the hell, Five?” Klaus scolded, as his tiniest sibling tried to shove the thermometer in his mouth as he was speaking. Klaus ripped the device out of his brother’s hand and put it in his mouth. After it beeped, he looked at it. “Look, 98.7. It’s pretty much the same as last time.”

“You went up a tenth of a degree,” Diego noted.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “What-fucking-ever, Diego!”

“Take the pills already!”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that from you,” Klaus chuckled.

It was Diego’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah and it’s the fucking last time too so don’t get used to it.”

Klaus ignored him and swallowed the pills dry. With another threatening look from Five, he took another swig of the Emergen-C.

“I’m gonna go check on Luther,” Allison said.

Five added, “I’ll come with. I’ve yet to see him in all his sick glory.”

The two disappeared, Five actually walking with Allison instead of blinking away.

“Hehht’TSCHHhyeu-nkTT!” Klaus moaned lightly after.

“Bless you. Where’s Ben?”

Klaus rubbed his nose vigorously. “Uhh, he’s right here. Yeah. No, no I’m not. Shut the hell up! Whatever.” He turned to face his visible siblings. “I will not be manifesting Ben for the time being, as he is being a complete bitch!”

“What’s he doing?” Vanya asked.

“Pestering me! He’s all like ‘Oooohhh Klaus! This is exactly how Luther was at the start! Blah blah blah!’ like, I don’t care!” Klaus ranted. “I feel fine! I know that you’re all used to me being useless but I actually think I’m okay for once and no one will hip off my fucking dick!”

It was silent. Klaus sighed. He felt guilty. Sure, Ben was annoying him but Klaus was the only way his siblings could see Ben. He couldn’t keep him from them like he was his master. He didn’t want to be like that.

“Whatever,” Klaus muttered. Slowly, Ben became visible.

Klaus tuned out the conversation as he slumped back down on the couch.

Up in Luther’s room, Allison and Five were trying to give Luther everything they could without absolutely filling his stomach cavity with different types of medicine. They used some spray Klaus found that was supposed to numb your sore throat. Luther said it didn’t work.

They waited a few minutes after applying everything. Allison was impatient to see improvement. She hated seeing any of her siblings feel like this, especially Luther. He was supposed to be their leader, and when he couldn’t lead them who was supposed to?

For the next hour, Allison checked Luther’s temperature every fifteen minutes. It finally dropped back down to 100. Still a fever, not not nearly as bad as his 103.4 degree fever from before.

“Allison?” Luther asked weakly. His voice had become so much more raw and broken as his coughing had increased. “Can I have another cough drop? My throat hurts so badly.”

Allison nods and goes to give him another one. She hands him two this time, just in case. She then announces that she’s going to go get some tea for him because the cough drops aren’t working as well as she’d like.

All Allison can think about is how sick Luther was. She had had to change his shirt because of how sweat-soaked he was. Luther was obviously embarrassed but he let Allison do it without complaining. That was a big clue to Allison that he was really miserable. He had started having more productive coughs, ones that were wet so everyone in the room could feel his sickness.

Five had left shortly after Allison had taken Luther’s temperature the second time. She didn’t know where he went, but she knew that Five didn’t like seeing his brother in such discomfort. Luther wasn’t one to really show how he was feeling. He was almost always still as a stone. It was odd for them to see him break his walls down for once.

As Allison poured the tea into the kettle, a quiet voice asked, “Can I have some? Only if there’s enough water. Diego said I should keep drinking it just in case.”

“Of course. Sit down,” Allison said.

It was Klaus who had entered the room and he sat down quickly and quietly. Allison would have noticed that he was acting off if she wasn’t so worried about Luther.

“I’m gonna take this up to Luther and then I’ll come back down to hang out with you,” she promised.

Klaus shook his head, “No no no, you don’t have to. You can stay with Luther, I know you want to. You don’t have to feel obligated to stick around. I’ve got Ben here.”

“Klaus, I want to hang out with you,” Allison’s voice faltered. “I thought it would be nice.” She couldn’t help but be upset that Klaus thought she was only offering to hang out with him out of pity. That’s what Klaus was used to: people pitying him.

“Oh, okay then.” He grabbed a napkin off of the center of the table and held it up over his face. “Hh’eiishieww-ishhew! H’nxght!”

“Bless you. You sure you’re feeling alright?”

Klaus nodded, “Must be pollen or something. Diego took my temperature and I feel pretty okay otherwise. I’ve been sneezing all day, but that’s something I’m pretty used to.”

He was right. Klaus was a pretty sneezy guy. Due to his several-year-long relationship with snorting cocaine, Klaus was set off by almost every strong smell there was. He had grown up being allergic to pollen and he had found out in his late teens that he was quite allergic to cats. Klaus wondered if there was anything Luther even could be allergic to on the moon. Moon dust? Recycled air? He didn’t know.

“As long as you’re not feeling too badly,” Allison said.

“Hihh...hh...fuck I...hh’ishhyu! Ugh. My god!”

Allison giggled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Allison continued laughing.

Klaus feigned anger. “What’s so funny?”

“You just had that dramatic ass buildup for that tiny sneeze!” She confessed.

Klaus cracked a smile but then quickly went back to faking his furiousness. “My sneezes aren’t tiny! They’re quite average, thank you very much! They come out so damn fast sometimes, it’s like they’re all on top of one another. They all fuck me in the ass one after another. It’s like a damn orgy but without any orgasming.”

“One time I read that if you sneeze enough it can make you orgasm,” Allison doted. “Not sure if that’s true though.”

“I’ll have to try it out someday,” Klaus said. “Not today though.”

Allison joked, “You better be quiet about it because Diego would not be happy to hear about you triggering your allergies or your asthma on purpose.”

“You’re doing what?” Diego’s voice came in.

“Nothing! Just fun and games, that’s all,” Klaus said.

“Allison mentioned your asthma is it acting up? Are you feeling alright? Christ, Klaus you have to tell us these things Allison where’s the thermometer-“

Klaus laughed, “Calm the hell down, Diego. It’s not acting up, I promise. I’ll tell you if it is, you know that!”

It was times like this where Klaus really saw how much Diego cared for him. He could become so worried in .2 seconds and it always threw Klaus off of his game. Part of Klaus’ whole routine was people not caring about him and it kind of threw a wrench in things when people started to care.

Diego looked at Allison with the same urgency, only calming down a bit when she nodded her head in agreement with Klaus, who was sniffling and rubbing at his nose.

“You mentioned his asthma --”

“In jest, Diego. Jeez, lighten up!” Klaus play-chastised his brother, shoving him lightly with his free hand, which of course left his brother completely unfazed. Diego was similarly unfazed by Allison’s explanation of their previous discussion. While Allison and Klaus chuckled again, Diego’s jaw remaining locked and he rolled his eyes.

“Hilarious. Klaus is getting sick, Luther’s upstairs hacking his lungs out and you think it’s the perfect time for a stand-up routine.”

There was a silence after that. The spoon Allison was using to stir a cup of tea hovered in mid-air. Even Klaus’ sniffling and nose rubbing stopped as he stared at Allison in excitement, waiting for her response. Finally, she started stirring the cup of tea again.

“Yes, Diego. My brothers are sick,” she said, voice calm. A small smile on her lips. “And I’m making them feel better by being a nice, pleasant presence. You should try it, god forbid you might like it.”

“For real, D, don’t be a dick. Sissy is a mom, she’s the best at this kind of thing -- see?” Klaus took the cup of tea from her hand as she offered it. “Thanks, Ally!” He blew on it as Diego shot him a look. “Hey, you’re good at this stuff, too, man!” he quickly added on. Klaus was truly grateful for all of the times Diego had helped him out in the past when he was sick, before he was sober. But now his brother went into panic mode the second he heard him sniffle. It really killed his vibe.

“You’re just a little… intense,” Klaus said with a small grin, quickly covering it up as he raised the mug to his lips. He sipped way too quickly. Not only did he burn his tongue, but steam rising from the mug made his nose itch. He rubbed at it again to delay the inevitable reaction.

“Well, if you’d been in my shoes all these years maybe you’d understand why I don’t think it’s funny to see you make a joke out of it when you’re sick.”

“But I’m not even sick!” Klaus bit back, in that same whiny tone Diego had become familiar with over the years. His nose chose the perfect time to finalize its reaction in that moment. He hastily set the tea down on the counter as he again buried his face in his hoodie sleeve. “nxXGsht-ixgtshu! Hih! H’dtZshiuhh--fuck!”

“Not sick my ass-”

“Bless you!” The three siblings whipped their heads to the entrance to the kitchen, but Vanya was standing at the stove seconds later, having rushed in in a panic. She was just as bad as Diego. She fussed over the large pot of soup boiling on the stove, lifting a small spoonful up to her mouth to taste-test and blowing on it. “Diego, I told you to watch it while I was gone!”

“Sorry, Van, I was too busy watching over our idiot brother.”

“Rude!” Klaus gasped, moving his hand to cover his mouth in pretend shock.

“Klaus, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick yet?” Vanya asked, as if it was an inevitability. She turned to look at him for concern, the spoon still raised to her lips, her anxiety over his well being overpowering her anxiety over dinner. Diego swapped anxieties with her, diving in with another spoon and tasting the soup without blowing on it before she could bring the spoon to her lips. He burned his tongue in his haste, but he nodded through the little wince of pain.

“It’s done.” Vanya shifted her focus back to her own soup-filled spoon and finally tasted it, nodding in agreement.

“Klaus, come get your soup.” Vanya started ladling the soup into the six bowls she had laid out.

“Wait, it’s for me?” her curly-haired brother asked in mild shock (again, people caring about him was not the reality he’d known most of his life). Though what came across was annoyance as he crossed his arms over his chest. He’d sat at the counter watching them prepare the soup for the last hour, sniffling discreetly and rubbing his nose as Diego rapidly chopped vegetables and flung them into the pot with perfect accuracy, Vanya quietly stirring and adding the seasonings. “Give it to Luther, he’s the one who needs it. I’m not--”

“Klaus, eat the damn soup!” Ben had apparently appeared behind him, and he could hear the eye-roll in his voice. Klaus’ living siblings had blinked at him when he’d apparently cut himself off mid-sentence, assuming he was going to sneeze, since he’d cut himself off in the middle of the sentence. When it didn’t happen, Allison sprung into action, picking up a bowl and putting it into Klaus’ hands. She chuckled as she brought a perfectly manicured hand up to his cheek and patted it gently.

“Klaus, do you really think we made this whole pot of soup just for you? And you guys say I’m a narcissist.” Klaus watched as Diego shook his head and walked over to the table with a bowl of soup, Allison and Vanya following shortly after.

“Oh.” Klaus looked down at the soup in his hands and tried to hide the little smile that had formed on his face. He knew for a fact that they had made the soup because of Luther and him, and even if he was convinced he wasn’t sick, the fact that they cared so much and they were going to make a family dinner out of it made him feel just a little bit warm and fuzzy.

“Where’s Luther?” Klaus asked as he set his soup down on a placemat. “Shouldn’t he be the one we’re worried about feeding?”

“He’ll eat in his room. He needs to be quarantined,” Diego said, blowing on a spoonful of his own soup.

“I’ll bring him some!” Klaus rose from his seat.

“Absolutely not.” Diego shot him daggers. Klaus slumped down into his seat with a pout and scooped up a spoonful of soup. “Allison, why don’t you bring it--”

“Oh, no, let him be. He’s asleep.”

“Again?” Allison gaped. “Well I guess that’s what his body needs more right now.”

“Mmmhmm,” Vanya responded a little too quickly, putting her water glass to her lips almost immediately afterwards and taking a big, audible gulp. All these years and she was still a terrible liar. Thankfully, everyone was so preoccupied with eating -- and, in Klaus’ case, trying not to sneeze -- that they’d let it slide.

Around twenty minutes prior, Vanya had left her precious soup entrusted to Diego’s care and walked upstairs to Luther’s room to check on him and ask if he was ready for dinner. Afraid that he might actually be asleep, she opened the door slowly and carefully, not making a sound. The sight that greeted her had been pretty surprising, and even more so touching.

Luther was lying on his bed in the fetal position, barely fitting on the twin XL mattress. His blankets had been pulled back up to his chin, hopefully due to the fever breaking. He was wheezing in that careful way that meant one miscalculated breath would send him into the harsh, liquidy coughs he’d been producing for the past hour or so, thanks to the hefty dose of Mucinex.

And at his side sat Five, probably the only one of the siblings who could fit next to Luther’s massive frame on the bed. He looked down at his brother with intense concentration, brows furrowed as he traced constellations on his broad back with his index finger.

“Gemini,” he announced softly. Despite his expression, his voice carried an air of tenderness Vanya hadn’t heard from him in years. Not since they were kids, and even then it was rare. And he never used it on her. Only Luther, and only when he really needed it.

“The twins,” Luther wheezed out, a small smile playing on his lips, which quickly dissipated as his jaw went slack with a shaky breath. Five quickly retracted his hand, just as Luther buried his face in his blankets. “Heh-nGXTchiew! Hahh-nXXT!” He was stifling again, and judging by the slight curl in Five’s lip, Vanya knew the reason why. Five had never done well with germs, and she caught his slight flinch when Luther’s blanketed form contracted a third time. “S-heh!-sorryfive-

‘nGXTSCH! Hhh’nXGTschiehh. Hhh… heh!”

Luther tensed in anticipation, and so did Five; Vanya could tell he was about to bounce. So she decided to be a good sister and do something about it.

Concentrating on the sound of Luther’s breathing, she focused her energy on his nose, sending little waves of energy flowing outwards against the walls of his nostrils from within, and thus applying pressure from the inside out; something she’d been doing to herself lately, whenever she had to sneeze in a crowded place, or just didn’t want to attract any attention to herself. She released her hold when Luther’s breathing evened out.

As if on cue, Luther let out a deep, wheezy sigh. Five relaxed again, chuckling a bit as he put his finger back gently on his brother’s back.

“That was a first. Gesundheit!” His voice still held the soft tone Vanya had feared it might lose. “How about Libra next?”

With a small smile on her face, Vanya had slipped out of the room even more quietly than she’d came in.

She walked back to the kitchen, satisfied with her ability to stop Luther from sneezing, and she wondered if she could possibly do the opposite. She would get to test this theory out at dinner.

#sick luther #sick klaus #luther whump #klaus whump #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua fanfic #tua #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #luther snz #klaus snz #tua snz

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Ethan x reader

warnings: signs of/light depression, swearing, underage drinking

words: 4.159

note: this is the continuation of Fine, as requested by so many of you (especially @heyvalhere96 @graysonbaileyandethangrant @grethanscudi)! This is basically just more hurt and (still) no happy ending. A third part will be coming up, too! Hope I don’t disappoint :)

With numbing yourself down comes determination. You’re not dependent on him, you’re strong and you can find your own happiness. You don’t need anybody. The problem is, you might know that, but Ethan doesn’t. Not yet, anyway.

So, how do you show him? Not so easy when you’re miles and miles away from him. But what’s the internet for, right? You know he follows you on Instagram, so all you have to do is capture it in a picture and post it.

This is how you end up going out much more than you usually do. In the beginning it is almost every night of the week that you find yourself squeezed in between sweaty strangers swaying to a pounding beat that drowns out any melody that might have once belonged to the track played by the DJ. The lights are flashing and you don’t want to be here, but you’re sick of lying in bed, your thoughts finding darker and darker paths that never seem to end. So you drink as much as you can, dance to the beat, and welcome the heat of the moving bodies all around you. And sometimes there will be hands settling heavy on your hips, a stranger’s body pressing up against your backside, and someone’s hot breath in your ear. Usually you need another drink, because it makes you feel so dirty – not in the sexy way, the literal way that makes you feel like there are now slimy, muddy handprints all over your body. If you’re lucky, the guy will pay for your drink, and if he’s cute you take a picture with him and post it.

And you always, always make sure Ethan has seen it. Your notifications say he hasn’t missed a single one. Remembering the stranger’s hands on you, their sweat sticking to you, their breath hot and disgusting in your hair, against your neck, still makes bile rise in the back of your throat. That feeling of defiance that comes with it makes it worth it, though, you tell yourself.

He can see how little you need him, now, how much fun you can have all on your own. “But he will never see you”, a little vile voice whispers in your head. It takes time, but eventually you manage to tune it out.

By the end of the semester your skin is itchy and red all the time, since no amount of showering and scrubbing seems to be able to wash away the disgusting feeling that keeps sticking to you with every new stranger touching you. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up, but you don’t know what else to do. You have discovered, as long as you don’t think about Ethan, you’re fine. The obvious solution is to just keep yourself distracted, too busy to think about him.

You dread coming home for the holidays. Not because of Ethan, you’re fairly confident you’ve numbed yourself sufficiently for it not to hurt seeing him, at this point. You’re scared you won’t be able to distract yourself as efficiently at home, as you can at Uni. For a brief moment you consider not going home at all, but then you can’t realistically stay anywhere else. You don’t really have a choice.

    oooo

   Your grades slipped. Of course they did, when you were out pretty much every night and unable to stay awake during the day. And your parents know. There is shouting when you get home, lots of shouting and accusations and disappointment. It doesn’t last very long, though, since you don’t really have anything to respond with. How are you supposed to defend yourself, when you know full well they’re right? You’re failing. Failing them, failing yourself, failing at everything. So you just nod and stare at your feet, the feeling of tears pricking at the back of your eyes so familiar, you don’t even notice it. You don’t cry. Not in front of them, not when they’re right.

Nobody wakes you the next morning and they’re gone when you get up. A note tells you they’ve gone out grocery shopping and to call if you need anything. You don’t call.

Your phone notifies you of three texts.

Two from Gray:

Yesterday, 11:43 pm – You home yet?

Today, 10:09 am – Wake up sleepyhead, we’re going swimming!

One from Ethan:

Today, 00:42 am – Hope your flight was okay

You stare at the screen for a whole minute, your fingers hovering over the keys. What are you supposed to reply? Yes? No? There used to be a warmth blooming in your chest whenever they texted, guiding your fingers almost instinctively. You always knew how to reply to them. But sometime between then and now that warmth seems to have disappeared.

Finally you type:

Today, 12:55 pm -- Yeah, home now. Busy tho, maybe next time.

Biting your lip you add: Sorry.

   oooo

   It’s two weeks into vacation and you’re lying in your garden, listening to the world move around you. You discovered you actually don’t need to distract yourself, anymore. Listening is effective, too. As long as there’s noise around you, be it someone talking to you or a dog barking in the distance or simply the sounds of traffic, you can concentrate on that until it turns into white noise encasing you in cottony oblivion. Spacing out is just like getting drunk, only slightly more healthy.

Curiously enough, it doesn’t help with the tiredness, though. You still feel heavy, ready to close the blinds and crawl under the covers all the time.

You don’t know how long you’ve been lying in the grass like this. Your eyes are closed because like this you can focus on the sounds better. That’s probably why you don’t see them coming.

One minute there’s only sun burning down on you, trying to press warmth into your skin, since there’s apparently nothing left in you that can produce anything resembling warmth inside you anymore. The next, there's a shadow falling over your face and something nudges the side of your head.

Jolting, you open your eyes and look directly into familiar brown-green ones. Ethan is standing over you, staring down at you, and Grayson is squatting next to you. They were his knuckles that nudged your head, judging from the smirk on his lips.

“Found you!”, he declares like this was a game of hide and seek. Well. You suppose that might actually be pretty accurate.

Your eyes flicker from Gray to Ethan and yeah, there’s that echo of pain, again. But it’s slightly subdued, like a faraway cry of pain. You seem to have successfully put a good distance between you and your heart, at least a few football fields. Probably frozen over ones. Somehow it feels like there should be ice involved.

“Hey there”, you reply and sit up.

Gray immediately pulls you to his chest, promptly loses his balance and both of you fall back to the ground. His laugh is loud and harsh in your ear. It takes you a second to remind yourself to laugh with him, like you should. You pat his chest lightly and finally stand up. Gray holds out his hand for you and Ethan to help him up, and you do.

Receiving a hug from Ethan is weirdly surreal. You can see yourself standing there being engulfed in his long arms, and you know how warm his chest feels, know that he will be smelling like sweat, laundry, and concrete, and how his hair brushes silkily over your temple. You can’t feel it, though. It’s like your whole body has become callous to his touch, layered and layered with numbness until nothing can reach your heart anymore. Thinking back how you felt the last time you saw him, you decide you much prefer this actually.

Your mom brings you iced lemonade and cookies when you settle down on the shitty, creaky chairs surrounding the old table standing on the terrace. She must be the one who let them in.

Anytime either of them texted you in the past weeks, you just replied you were busy. And you don’t talk about it. Nobody mentions it, like it isn’t something all of you know.

“We’ve missed you”, Gray says and throws his arm around your shoulders, hugging you close once again.

You still just don’t know what to say to them. What is there to say? “I feel like I’m suffocating constantly and I’m still in love with Ethan, which doesn’t make any fucking difference because even if he didn’t have Ana, there would be absolutely no chance of us happening, since I’m a piece of shit who can’t get her life together and just keeps causing the people close to her grief”? As soon as that thought comes to your mind, you feel your stomach cramping up. Suddenly Gray’s arm feels so wrong, slung around you, touching you. He’s got his hands were others have touched you, their dirty handprints still burning on your skin.

“Me too”, you mumble and hunch your shoulders a little more, wishing nothing more than to be far, far away, and forget how good it feels to have them around. How much warmth and light they bring with them, brightening up your world without even trying. How the way Ethan’s hair keeps flopping into his eyes makes your heart flutter, like it forgot it has already splintered into a million pieces. How the circles under his eyes make you want to trace them softly with your fingertips.

You’re grateful for this wrung-out feeling of no tears left to spill over. You have nothing left to give, nothing to offer that hasn’t been completely and utterly broken. There’s nothing you need to protect anymore, there’s nothing left to lose.

   oooo

   That evening, your mom comes into your room. She sits on the bed, but you don’t move. You just lie there and look at her, waiting for her to say whatever she came to say. She takes a deep breath, tries to start talking but there's a darkness in her eyes – worry. It’s worry, you realize after a moment. Before you can ask yourself what that means, she shakes her head and cups your face gently in between her hands. Her thumb starts stroking your forehead slowly and suddenly you feel five years old again.

She used to do this whenever you hurt yourself, whenever you scratched your knee or bumped your head against something or other. And just like then, she starts humming the tune of that lullaby about the porcupine, her eyes soft and her touch familiar, and suddenly there’s that lump in your throat again. The one you can’t seem to swallow past.

“You okay?”, she whispers finally.

You can feel your eyes burning. “Fine.”

Her smile is so sad it makes your insides twist to know you put that expression there. She doesn’t stop stroking your forehead. “I know you’re not”, she says quietly. “You haven’t been eating well, you sleep all the time, and you don’t want to talk. About anything.”

You can’t even deny that, she is right. Of course she is. She’s your mom, of course she notices these things.

“I thought maybe Grayson and Ethan could cheer you up, but I was wrong, wasn’t I?” Her smile turns from sad to apologetic and you can’t stand it, you can’t look at her.

“I’m sorry”, is what comes out of your mouth, even as you press your eyes closed. You’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for – anything? Everything?

She makes a shushing sound and kisses your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry for. But can you do one thing for me?”

You open your eyes, your lashes suspiciously damp. “Anything. Yeah.”

Her smile doesn’t lose its sadness, but inexplicably there’s pride now, too, and love and confidence. “Believe me.”

“Believe … what?”

“You’re gonna be fine”, she says taking your hand in both of hers, squeezing it lightly. “It doesn’t feel like it, I know. But I also know you’re gonna be just fine. Take all the time you need, no need to rush yourself. You can’t force yourself to feel anything that isn’t there, yet. So. Just believe me, when I tell you you’re going to be fine. Okay?”

You’re not sure why you nod slowly, agreeing. Maybe it’s because you’re tired and confused, or maybe it’s because it’s your mom. “Okay, Mom.”

She doesn’t leave until you’ve drifted off to sleep, her hand stroking your head and softly humming in the quiet of the room.

  oooo

   Her words snap you out of your dream-like state, at least at home. You start talking to your parents again, you even accompany them on some of their daily trips. The layer of ice you so carefully constructed around your heart starts thawing and while it lets you breathe more easily, it is also unforgiving in the intensity with which you start experiencing again.

Every text Gray and Ethan send is like a small cut from a short but sharp knife, the burning pain starting to pierce through the haze of numbness again.

You don’t manage to avoid them for long, and if you’re being honest, you’re not actually trying very hard. That’s how you end up at their place with your feet in the pool in order to cool down, one sunny afternoon no more than a week later.

Gray is floating in the pool, canary-yellow shorts contrasting nicely with his golden-brown skin and dark sunglasses are perched on his nose. You’re looking at him contemplating – he’s very attractive, actually. You never really noticed, Gray always being too much of a brother to you for your thoughts wandering in that direction, but now that you’re actually looking it is blatantly obvious. He’s going to make a girl very happy, one day. And you’re absolutely going to skin her, should she ever hurt him.

That’s when Ethan steps out of the house, a cool drink in one hand, his phone in the other. He’s wearing shorts and a black t-shirt that reveals his collarbones. He has his sunglasses pushed up into his hair, only a few stray curls making their way into his face now. In comparison to Gray, Ethan is quite pale, you realize. He probably is a tiny fraction smaller than Gray – to be honest, though, Gray’s arms are bordering on insane, so that doesn’t really mean anything at all.

It’s no use anyway, even if Ethan never worked out again or started wearing his grandpa’s clothes, he would probably still be the most attractive human being you can imagine.

He chooses exactly that moment to look up, his eyes tangling with yours, holding you there. Until he opens his mouth. “I need to pick up Ana in half an hour, don’t let me forget.”

You push down whatever emotion starts rising up inside of you, force it down until your fingertips start prickling, and turn back around to look at Gray lazily paddling towards you until he can grab your ankle and use it as an anchor.

“Why? Can’t you remember your own girlfriend for more than a few minutes?”, he teases and rolls his eyes. His fingers slung around your ankle squeeze you for half a second, so quickly you might have imagined it.

“Like you’d know anything about it, Mr-hasn’t-had-a-girlfriend-in-years”, Ethan retorts and drops down onto the lounger stood to your right. You can actually feel his gaze settling on where Gray holds onto you. There’s a pause. Then: “You know, if you guys were … well … you know … you know. You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Your heart is somewhere in your throat and you can’t find the words to reply to that. Gray doesn’t seem to realize Ethan is talking to him for a long moment, before he starts furrowing his brow and lifts his head slowly. He pushes his sunglasses up to frown at Ethan.

“What?”

“I mean, like”, Ethan stammers blushing, shrugs defensively and gestures to your ankle and Gray’s hand. “Wouldn’t be that improbable, would it? You two have been pretty close for a few months now, like … you can’t blame me asking, okay?”

Gray stares at him disbelievingly, the frown only deepening on his face, but his grip around your ankle never loosens.

“We’re not … I’m not in a relationship, right now”, you manage to get out.

“Yeah, c’mon E, we’d tell you”, Gray scoffs settling his head back down and putting on his sunglasses again.

“Oh, right, I forgot”, Ethan mumbles, but this time there’s something underlying his voice. Yes, there’s definitely judgment in his voice. You can actually see Gray’s eyes widening and flickering to your face as if to check, whether you picked up on it.

As if anyone could’ve missed that. “Excuse me?”

Ethan looks up from his phone and shrugs, like he never said anything.

“No, really. What do you mean by that?”, you insist, pull your feet out of the water and turn around fully to face Ethan. “What did you forget?”

Ethan sighs as if you’re being unreasonable, which riles you up even more. “I just… It’s nothing. You were having a good time at Uni last semester, yeah? Nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes”, you say slowly, clearly. “I agree. There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything for a moment, before his shoulders droop a little and he scoots to the foot of the lounger, close enough for you to be almost sitting between his spread legs now. He bites his lip, visibly uncertain which words to choose. “Look. I really didn’t mean to be judgmental or anything. I promise. I just… I think you could do much better, y’know? Like, why don’t you look for a potential boyfriend? All those different guys, they … well, it doesn’t fit. Just doesn’t suit you.”

You can’t help the bitter laugh that barks out of you at his words. “Yeah, right. Like there’s any decent guy who would want me.”

Ethan frowns. “What? I mean, I’m sure there’d be a few. Maybe not if you, you know, go out with a different guy every night … y’know, that might be an issue, but – “

“Wait a minute. I don’t sleep with them”, you protest. His head snaps up, genuine surprise in his eyes and it makes you scramble to your feet, away from him. “You really think I’d sleep all of those sleazy… any of those guys?” Ethan shrugs, looking a bit lost. “I go out. I drink and I dance. And yes, maybe I’ll dance with the next best guy and maybe I’ll even let him kiss me, just so I can forget for one fucking minute — not that that’s any of your business. But I don’t just sleep with random guys and you should know that. You should know me.”

Ethan has his forehead pulled into a confused frown, his head tilted slightly as he looks at you. Gray, still in the pool, seems to have completely frozen, his eyes wide and round as they spring from you to Ethan and back. He looks like he’s witnessing a car crash, frozen in place and unable to look away or prevent it from happening in the first place.

“Forget… what?”, Ethan asks slowly, realization dawning. “Is it still that mysterious guy you were so fucked up over?”

You don’t say anything, your feet rooted to the ground firmly, even when everything inside of you is screaming at you to run as far and fast as you can. Ethan looks at Grayson for confirmation, but Gray just stares back at him, latent panic creeping up in his eyes.

“It is, isn’t it? God, I’m gonna fucking punch this guy”, Ethan growls and stands up, too. “If you don’t tell me who it is now, Gray, I swear to god … “

Gray seems to finally be able to move again, and he scrambles to pull himself out of the pool. Then he stands there awkwardly. Dripping wet and half naked, between Ethan and you, his mouth opening and closing without a single word coming out.

“Gray”, Ethan says slowly, warningly, frowning again when Gray starts looking back and forth between him and you, like he’s following some sort of invisible tennis game. “You told me, we know him. He must be from here somewhere, just fucking tell me.”

“It’s … “, Gray starts slowly. You can only stare back at him, when Gray looks at you pleadingly, like he’s asking for guidance. Or permission. Panic paralyses your whole body now, you’re almost sure even your heart has stopped beating.

No, no, no. He can’t tell Ethan, he can’t.

But then why does it feel like you’re suffocating? Why does it feel like you’re just about to break through the surface of the cold water you’ve been trapped in for an eternity, and you’re choosing to stay underwater?

“It’s…”, Gray starts again. He hesitates for another second, then he takes a step towards you and takes your hand. “It’s me.”

“It’s – what?”, Ethan repeats.

You’re unable to move when Gray slides his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in, water and chlorine soaking your clothes. He presses a hesitant kiss to your cheek and, funnily enough, it doesn’t even feel all that wrong. Sweet and platonic, just like Gray. “You were right before. We just didn’t want to tell you, because …”

Ethan stares at the both of you in confusion, crossing his arms in disbelief. “So… you cheated on Gray consistently throughout this past semester, then? Kissing and dancing with all those … guys?”

You don’t know what to say. To any of it. To either of them. There are too many thoughts running through your head at head-spinning speed, too much emotion bubbling up inside for you to be able to name a single one of them. Your breathing is too quick, too shallow. No matter how desperately you pump air into your lungs, you can’t seem to actually get any oxygen.

“Uhm”, Gray stammers. “That… nah, we were on a break. Right? Just a break. But now we worked it out and … well … right?”

Ethan looks at you, waiting for your confirmation.

And you still can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe.

“It’s you.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but you can’t bring yourself to be sorry either. Although you barely more than whispered it, you know they both heard it. Gray lets out a huge breath next to you, his whole body going from fully tense to slumped. You stare into Ethan’s eyes, you can see the honest shock in them, and you can’t look away. “It was you. But you have Ana and I … don’t. So.”

Ethan’s mouth is hanging open and he blinks slowly, clearly struggling to grasp your words.

But it’s not as scary as you thought. You don’t even feel naked or exposed, it just feels like you finally ripped through the chains slowly suffocating you, squeezing all the air out of your lungs until you couldn’t move anymore. For the first time in months you feel at peace. You’re pretty sure you just ruined whatever kind of friendship was still left between you and Ethan, but then you had never really wanted friendship, had you? As long as you get to keep Gray in your life, you’ll be able to move on, now. Finally.

“I – I’ll go”, you mumble, turning away from Ethan and stroking Gray’s arm with a smile. You take a deep breath and it’s so freeing, your smile is almost genuine. “Thank you.”

Gray just looks at you and nods, his mouth pulled down in worry. “I’ll text you.”

You nod, before half turning around to Ethan, still stood on the same spot, unmoving. “Good bye, Ethan.”

“I – but – “, he stammers, shaking his head slowly.

“Forget it”, you interrupt him before he can say anything that’ll make you hurt again. You turn around once more when you’re at the door. Gray is looking at Ethan worriedly, while Ethan is staring at you looking like a lost puppy. Like he’s waiting for you to tell him, it’s all a joke. The smile that lifts one of the corners of your mouth tastes bitter. “It’s stupid anyway, right? You would never … not me … I could never be …”

You give up trying to end that sentence. With one last defeated shrug you duck through the doorway and leave so quickly, you’re not entirely sure how you made it home without crashing the car. As exhausted as you are, you fall asleep immediately when your head hits the pillow, even though it’s not even five in the afternoon.

You don’t dream at all, but then again, you haven’t dreamt for months now. What is there be to dream about, anyway?

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