#this is attempt FOUR at this fucking fic because they kept developing in my brain so that the beginning of the fic was ooc

[sucker-for-sniffles]

Did someone order a loyal knight with a bad cold and his prince who loves him dearly trying to get him to rest for once in his life? Here’s 4k words of that, please enjoy these guys who barged into my head and won’t leave

—

As if negotiations in Halfford hadn’t gone poorly enough, Prince Robin thought, bouncing about uncomfortably in the back of his carriage, Sir Harper had started to catch cold a couple days into the journey home. Off of the Duke’s snot-nosed son, Robin had no doubt. The brat practically hung off Harper’s shirt all week, as if he were a fawning child rather than a man hardly any younger than Harper.

Harper made his ailment utterly unobtrusive, as always, his service unfailing. Any other company might not have realized he was ill at all. But Robin knew him too well to miss the edge of fatigue to his practiced smile, the soft sighs when he didn’t realize Robin was listening, the sneezes muffled into his cape just too often to pass off as coincidence.

And Robin knew him too well to say anything. Harper blamed himself for the disaster this trip had become, even if he didn’t want Robin to see as much. As if he ought to have prevented the storm that stalled them four days on the way to Halfford, or Duke Edward’s foul mood at the delay. With Harper on edge as he was, Robin didn’t have the words to ask after him without Harper taking it as a critique. He blamed his friend’s father for that. The old bastard was just the sort to wield “are you quite well?” as a blunt weapon.

Robin was in far too sour a mood for tact. On another day, he would walk beside the carriage and talk with Harper, but given the circumstances, he was better off sulking with the luggage. Even if he wound up with a bruise or two, he didn’t have to try so hard to bite his tongue with the creaks and clangs of the cart on the uneven road making conversation difficult already.

“It’s getting dark,” Harper called back. There was a fresh rasp to his voice accompanying the mounting congestion that marred his m’s and n’s. The poor man ought not to shout so. “If we press, we may reach an inn not long after sundown, but…”

“Let’s camp here.” Robin shifted carefully, extracting himself from the corner of the cart he’d wedged himself into. He didn’t want Harper doing any pressing.

“Very well, my lord.” A note of relief in Harper’s voice, well-masked but perceptible. The cart rumbled to a stop and creaked loudly as Harper stepped down from the driver’s seat.

Robin followed suit and crawled from the back of the cart, stretching out stiff and aching limbs. He really did prefer to walk. He circled around, intending to offer help, but paused when he saw Harper seize a fistful of his cape and bring it close to his face. His shoulders rose with his breath, once, twice—

Harper ducked into a rough, throaty sneeze, muffled harshly by the thick wool of his cape.

“Bless you.” Even that much, Robin worried would be unwelcome.

“Ah—tha’k you.” Harper dragged his cape roughly under his nose and sniffed with a determined finality. He smiled. “I am glad to see you in one piece after being tossed about like a sack of flour. What draws you to ride in the cart on roads like this, I can’t understand.” He set to unyoking the horses, leaving Robin to trail uselessly behind him.

“It isn’t so bad without armor clanging about you.” Robin rubbed his arms.

“Hah.” Harper lifted the yoke from the horses’ shoulders, a quick flash of pain crossing his face when the weight settled in his right arm. Was his shoulder bothering him, too? It was awfully cold this far north. “There’s no need to lie to me, my lord. I only wish I could give you privacy with a little more comfort.”

Robin huffed a laugh. “Alas, you are no magician. I am merely grateful my father didn’t insist on sending an entourage after us.” And he was, truly, whatever Harper might have thought. It isn’t as if thirty men could have fought off a storm that Harper couldn’t.

“Your father’s men don’t know how to leave you well enough alone,” Harper agreed, but Robin didn’t miss the doubt that flickered across his face. He set down the yoke and glanced at Robin. “Are you warm enough? The cold comes on quickly out here.”

Robin dropped his hands from his arms. “Perhaps not.” The wind was beginning to creep through the linen of his shirt without the canvas walls of the cart to block it.

“Allow me to fetch your cloak.” Harper strode past before Robin could insist on fetching his cloak himself. It was likely best to let him help, anyhow. If small, unneeded favors were what he needed to prove himself, there was no reason to protest.

Harper returned promptly with Robin’s favorite travel cloak over one arm—a thick red one, almost long enough to drag on the ground, made when Robin was young enough that there was hope he’d grow taller. “I hope you are well, my lord,” he said, fastening the cloak over Robin’s shoulders.

It took Robin a moment to process the question. “I—am. For the most part.”

Harper smiled, honest despite the tired weight to it. “I’m glad. It can be hard to tell, when you draw away from me, when I should start to worry. I hope you will never feel lonely when I am with you.”

And he squeezed Robin’s shoulder and returned to the back of the cart like he hadn’t just stung Robin senseless. He’d made Harper worry for him all this time. Since they first arrived in Halfford, no doubt, and Robin had spent every evening too exhausted by the Duke’s temper to do more than sulk in his guest room and tell Harper to explore the city without him. Harper understood, as Harper always understood, but it was hardly any wonder he’d gotten tense. Robin could be a dense little brat sometimes, he thought bitterly.

A wrenching, tightly muffled sneeze pulled Robin back to himself. He moved around to the back of the cart, where Harper had paused in tying down the rear flap to press his fingers to his temples, exhaustion written plainly on his face. The red cast of his nose was no longer faint, and the poor thing was starting to swell under Harper’s rough treatment.

“Bless you,” Robin said, anxiety creeping foolishly up his neck. Talking to Harper ought to be the easiest thing in the world. Damn this trip, damn Duke Edward, and damn Robin’s own idiocy.

The exhaustion all but vanished from Harper’s expression as he looked up and gave a quick thanks, carrying on with the canvas.

Robin twisted the edge of his cloak between his fingers and dared to ask, “Sir Harper, are you well?”

Harper paused his work for just a moment, too briefly to be noticed by anyone paying the slightest bit less attention than Robin. “I may have caught a chill back in Halfford,” he admitted, his tone carefully flat. “Do not concern yourself, my lord.”

“I shall concern myself if I like,” Robin said before he could think better of it.

Harper pulled a rope taught with a fair bit more force than seemed necessary and barked a laugh. “Of course, my lord.” He sniffed, sharp and wet, and tied off the rope, securing the canvas flap over the open back of the cart. He climbed inside without another word and started shifting things around, laying out their bedrolls and moving fallen luggage aside.

Robin sighed and leaned against the cart, pulling his cloak tight around himself. He’d misstepped already. A cold. What an absurdly unremarkable, temporary affliction to regret. As if anybody could think less of Harper for such a thing. For falling ill, for bowing to the weather. Robin could think of a few sharp words for Harper’s father, though he doubted they would do any good.

He watched the darkening sky as Harper bustled around in the cart. Some clouds were forming to the east—might it rain? The roads would be hell tomorrow if it did. Perhaps they ought to have pushed on to the inn after all.

“Does it look like rain to you?” Robin asked as Harper emerged from the carriage. He’d stripped his cape, tabard, and heavy mail, leaving him in trousers and a tunic with his sword tied around his waist.

Harper glanced up to the east, briefly pressing a gloved knuckle under his nose. “Ah—yes, most likely.” He smiled. “Worry not, my lord. You will stay quite dry in the cart.”

Robin bit his lip. “Yes, but the roads will—I will stay dry?”

“We will.” Harper sniffled and laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Worry not. I am hardly infirm. I shall handle the roads tomorrow, whatever condition they may be in.”

“Of course you shall.” Robin sighed, studying Harper’s face, the faint lines of exhaustion his best efforts can’t erase. “I do not doubt your capability, but…it has been a long journey.”

“It has.” Harper squeezed Robin’s shoulder briefly and let go, looking away. Was Robin staring? “Rest in the cart. I will take care of camp and fetch you when there is dinner.”

That isn’t what Robin meant at all, but already Harper was striding away towards the horses. Robin followed him, almost jogging to keep up with his long, quick steps. “No. I will accompany you.”

“No need.” Harper didn’t slow, nor turn to Robin. “You are exhausted. Rest for tomorrow.” There was a clipped insistence to his tone so uncharacteristic that Robin was almost hurt until Harper brought both hands to his face and smothered a sneeze that seemed to tear through him and take a piece with it, leaving him staggered slightly with a few short, harshly constrained coughs.

“Bless you, Sir.” Robin took the opportunity to overtake Harper and reach the horses first. Of course—poor Harper hadn’t had a moment’s privacy since they’d left Halfford. If Robin couldn’t convince him to let his guard down before him, he could at least give him a few moments alone. “I assure you, I am quite capable of watering the horses myself. We shall both to bed sooner if I help.” He took both horses’ leads without waiting for a response and clicked at them to follow.

“…very well, my lord.” If Harper was trying to disguise the relief in his voice, he didn’t manage it very well. He sniffed thickly and dropped his hands from his face. “The river is a short way south of here.” He pointed, but Robin could hear the rushing water already.

Robin nodded. “I shall return soon.”

And he led the horses off. This was absurd. Why should the two of them play these games even when alone? Harper’s father was not here to scold him, nor anybody who might report to him or the King. Why should decorum prevent Robin from speaking frankly with his dearest friend? He ought to order Harper to rest as much as he was able.

The river was further than Robin anticipated, and by the time he returned night had all but fallen, the air damp and bitterly cold, and the rain clouds in the east were unmistakably nearer. At least he was able to spare Harper the trek—the fool would have left without his cloak—but he was relieved nonetheless to see a fire roaring already by the time he returned, a steaming pot hung over it. He secured the horses and joined Harper beside it on a fallen log, noting with pleasure that Harper had remembered himself and donned a cloak.

“Back at last, my lord?” Harper smiled at Robin as he sat down, a touch of mischief in his expression. “I had forgotten how much longer a walk can be on shorter legs.”

Robin shoved his shoulder, gasping in mock offense. “You know perfectly well how quickly I walk.”

“How slowly.” Harper’s grin flashed into a grimace and he turned away from Robin, lifting a fistful of his cloak to his face. His breath wavered perilously for a moment, and he crumpled, smothering a heavy sneeze into the fabric.

“Bless you.” He sounded worse, Robin thought.

Harper coughed roughly before recovering his breath. “Hah. Tha’k you.” An attempt at sniffling audibly caught in stuffed-shut sinuses and Harper cleared his throat, such an unmistakeably unwell sound that Robin wanted to drag him to the cart to sleep and damn his feelings on the matter.

“What do you think of breaking into that mead the Duke refused?” he said instead. “My father won’t expect it back, and it seems a fine night to warm ourselves up.” And perhaps a bit of drink would help ease Harper’s nerves.

“If you’d like.” Harper tipped the pot over the fire towards him with a ladle, his other hand keeping the hem of his cloak pressed under his nose. “Though I hope you don’t need drink to find my company tolerable.”

Robin laughed. “Simply unbearable, being alone with the likes of you. It’s near enough to make me miss Duke Edward’s hospitality.” He stood and brushed dirt from the back of his cloak. “I simply can’t face a sober evening with company who prefers me to a horse’s ass.”

That earned a huff of laughter from Harper. “I’ve been looking at a horse’s ass all day. You’re a far better sight.”

“He doesn’t mean it, Dapple,” Robin called to the horse in question, who flicked an ear in utter disinterest. He patted her side on his way back to the cart.

It was dark inside the cart with the rear flap blocking out the firelight, but it was easy enough to find the mead, bundled up in a spare cloth and tied to the side of the cart to ensure it didn’t bounce around and break. There ought to be some handkerchiefs about, too. Robin recalled seeing a couple at the bottom of his bag, so he took a moment to dig them out.

When he returned to the campfire, Harper had taken the pot off the fire and was doling out stew to travel bowls. Robin offered a handkerchief without a word.

Harper took it with a nod of thanks and swiped quickly under his nose, though by the sound of things that wasn’t nearly enough.

The stew was fine enough, good for being scrounged together from diminishing fresh supplies. Harper called it a last proper meal before returning to dried meat and stale crackers. The mead was better. Robin’s father wasn’t one to spare expenses when it came to obsequious gifts.

“The one gift the Duke’s given us,” Robin said after the two were halfway through the bottle.

Harper snorted. “His generosity shall not go unremembered.” He took a swig from the bottle, then passed it urgently back to Robin. “Pardon—” His breath caught and he twisted away from Robin, though the sneeze seemed to toy with him, keeping his breath hitching uncertainly for several seconds before tearing out of him with a vocal desperation that almost startled Robin.

“Bless you.”

“Ngh.” Belatedly, Harper lifted the handkerchief to his face and blew his nose hard, though, by the sound of it, not to much effect. “Blast this cold.”

He must have been feeling calmer if he was complaining, Robin noted with pleasure. Though whether that was thanks to the mead or to dinner and company, he couldn’t guess. “Poor thing,” he said as lightly as he could manage, rubbing Harper’s shoulder.

Harper huffed, with laughter or irritation. “You needn’t tease me, my lord.”

“I’m not!” With feigned offense, Robin set the bottle on the ground to fold his arms. Harper picked it idly back up. “Can’t a man express his sympathies for a friend?”

“Of course, my lord.” Harper took another swig. “But as I’ve said, you need not worry.”

“Need not worry, need not worry!” However much the mead was touching Harper, Robin was feeling a touch bolder. “Perhaps I want to worry, Har. You aren’t acting like yourself.”

Harper grinned, visibly biting back a laugh. “You’re acting plenty like yourself.” Robin squinted. “Fussy and overprotective.”

Robin scoffed, almost offended. “Overprotective! Says Sir ‘rest in the cart while I do the work of thirty men!’”

“Thirty men!” Harper laughed properly at that until his breath caught in his throat and pulled him double in a coughing fit. “Thirty, Robin, really?” he croaked as soon as his breath allowed.

“My father would send thirty.”

Harper drank again, calming the cough. “Your father really is overprotective.”

Robin could hardly argue with that. He shifted closer and leaned into Harper’s side. “Honestly, what’s the matter?”

“You got me drunk so I’d admit I don’t feel well,” Harper said, vaguely impressed. “Conniving bastard.” But he leaned back into Robin’s touch.

“Answer me, Harper.” Robin let a smidge of princely authority into his tone. “You aren’t usually so…”

He searched for the word, but Harper gave a stuffy, defeated little sigh and sank deeper into Robin’s side. “Your father will have my head when we reach home.”

Robin scoffed. “Like hell.”

“He will.” Harper sniffed and pressed the handkerchief beneath his nose with some force. “You’ve been miserable on this trip—don’t lie to me; you have been—and it is my job t-to—oh, hell—” He leaned away from Robin and crushed a sneeze into his handkerchief, sharp and rough and furious.

“Bless you. I don’t give a damn about your job.” Maybe Robin oughtn’t to have drank. It made it awfully difficult to shut his mouth. “I only care that my friend is ill and you won’t let him rest.”

“I give a damn.” Harper didn’t snap, but the edge to his tone suggested he might have were Robin anybody else. “I haven’t got the luxury of only being your friend.” But he leaned back into Robin’s shoulder nonetheless.

Robin bit down the first words on his tongue, Your father said something to you. Dragging up that old argument could hardly do good. “I’d be happy to see you rest,” he said instead.

“Hah.” Harper swiped beneath his nose. “Less so to see the cart uncovered, dinner unmade, fire unlit…”

“I could have done any of that myself,” Robin insisted.

“And then what use would I be?” Harper’s tone might have sounded playful to someone else, but Robin heard the subtle frailty in the words.

A drop of rain splashed on Robin’s cheek. He put up a hand to feel for more.

“Right.” Harper sat up and pulled Robin’s hood over his head, smiling. As if Robin is the one needed reassuring. “Go stay dry in the cart. I will join you within a half-hour.”

Robin could have argued. A better friend might have. But Harper was rarely so insistent unless he was right, even if Robin couldn’t see it. “I’ll come looking if you’re late,” he said instead.

Harper laughed. “Nonsense, my lord. We don’t need you catching cold, too.” He stood and offered Robin a hand up.

Robin took it. “Then be with me in a half-hour.” The longer he ran his mouth, the longer Harper would be out in the rain, so he nodded goodbye and headed for the cart.

Inside the cart, he lit his fire-light and left it near the entrance, providing paltry light for Robin but, he hoped, a signal for Harper in case the rain put out the campfire. It wasn’t as if he needed to see much to strip off his cloak and boots and crawl under the blankets Harper had laid out.

The rain picked up quickly, and wind along with it. Robin pulled a pillow over his head, trying to block out the roar of the rain hitting canvas and with it the thought of poor Harper caught outside in this misery.

He had no way to tell the time, but he trusted despite his threat that it really had been less than a half-hour when Harper returned. He heard splashing, heavy footsteps drawing closer, then a creak of the cart as Harper started to step up. A pause, then a wet, wrenching sneeze, half drowned out by the rain hitting canvas but for once not muffled. And then another, ripe with exhausted frustration. Harper cursed, gave his nose a quick, rough blow, and climbed into the cart.

“Bless you.” Robin took the pillow off his head and rolled onto his back. “It sounds miserable out there.” As close to you sound miserable as Harper was likely to accept.

“Hah. S’pose so.” Harper turned out the fire-light and tossed it back to Robin, who fumbled it in the unexpected dark. “Were you frightened without me?”

Robin grumbled. “Oh, terribly. I’m a grown man; I’m not afraid of the rain any longer.”

Harper laughed, still shuffling around the cart to get out of his boots and cloak. “And here I thought you needed me.”

Robin lifted up the blankets to his right—prematurely, he realized when the unexpectedly cold air made him shiver. “All right, then. Get under here and protect me from the wind, Sir Necessary.”

To Robin’s relief, that drew more laughter from Harper, until it broke into a couple coughs. “Of course, my lord,” he said, a bit raspy, and slid under the blankets beside Robin.

He was keeping weight off his right arm, Robin noticed. So his shoulder was acting up. Robin waited for him to settle, then moved himself onto Harper’s good shoulder, pinning him down, and tucked the blanket gently over the other before Harper could protest.

Harper laughed softly and looped his arm around Robin’s waist. “You’re fretting.”

“Will you deny me that?”

“I will deny you nothing, my lord,” Harper said with that note of amusement that always left Robin torn between affection and indignation.

He settled on responding with a haughty sniff and pulling the pillow under Harper’s head. “Then tell me what you would have of me.”

Harper’s answer was as quick as predictable. “Nothing, my lord.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Robin settled his head on Harper’s chest and hooked a leg over Harper’s, drawing him close to share their warmth. Harper’s clothes were damp, and he shivered slightly beneath them. All the more reason to cling to him. “I know you hate to be alone when you’re unwell, but you’re hearing anything more than ‘bless you’ as a slight against your honor. Tell me how to care for you.”

Harper sniffed. “It is not your responsibility to—”

“Why did we come out here alone just to act like your father is listening?” Robin bit his tongue, regretting the words as soon as they passed his lips.

He might not have heard Harper’s breath catch without his ear pressed to his chest, but the sound made him want to shrivel up where he lay. “Oh, hell, Har, I—”

Harper twisted his head away from Robin into a vicious, half-stifled sneeze.

Oh. “Bless you. I’m sorry.”

Harper sniffed hard and brought up his right hand to scrub beneath his nose. “Tha’k you.” He sucked his teeth, absently rubbing a thumb on Robin’s back. When he spoke, it was hardly more than a hoarse whisper, as if asking quietly were less offensive: “Will you ride beside me tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Robin could feel the tension leave Harper. “I ought to have done so from the beginning.”

“You needed space.”

“And you needed company.” Robin shifted, pulling Harper in tighter. He’d stopped shivering. “I wish you’d asked for it sooner.” Harper started to speak, but Robin added, “I know you think you can’t, but I wish you would.”

Harper chuckled softly. “Truly, Robin, you worry too much.”

“Only as you refuse to take proper care of yourself,” Robin protested. “Get some sleep, now.”

“At your pleasure, my lord,” Harper teased, but he relaxed beneath Robin and, soon enough, drifted off to sleep.

[quirklessidiot]

Title: wine nights [coward series au]  Pairing: F!Reader x Miya Atsumu Genre: fluff, parents au, slice of life au  Synopsis: in which the older Miya twins and you have a heart to heart talk over wine.

Warnings: brief mentions of trauma

notes;

highly suggest to read the series for more understanding but either ways be my guest and just read it as a standalone if ya want to. also um the taglist has been closed ever since chap 7 was out so im really sorry :( 

happy 415 followers btw uwu. will be releasing my kita angst fic next week to celebrate a new milestone.

read the series here!  [ ss;; one, two, three, four ]

Osamu admits that you and him never saw eye to eye back in college (actually it was mostly him), it only took a worse turn when you left his twin. Now that he knows that the person you loved was actually his twin and that the father was the said person, he takes it back.

Yep, he takes it all back.

After profuse apologies and numerous deadpan responses from you saying that it was alright. You sort-of developed a weird friendship? He’d tell jokes and you’d just give him a blank expression and shake your head as if you were disappointed to be in the same room as him.

You always invited him and Daiki to your home every week on Sunday dinners though, he’s glad to be a part of it. He’s getting to know you a bit more and he’s slowly starting to understand why his brother loves you a lot.

The night is young and Atsumu is in the kids room, putting them to bed while you get ready for wine night. The younger Miya twin sits at the counter and nibbles on the cheese crackers as he watches you dry the dishes, “Has ‘tsumu ever told you how he first met you?” he suddenly asks out loud, curious if you knew how whipped his twin was for you and how much power you held over him.

You turn to the grey-haired twin with a plate on one hand and a dish towel on the other, “I don’t believe he or Shion-san has ever mentioned it.”

He chuckles, of course they wouldn’t. It was usually kept in the dark then and because of your strained relationships towards them when you were in college, they never actually got to tell you the story.

“He saw you one day, earlier in the school year…”

“He did mention that one time.” your forehead creases as you remember a fleeting conversation you had back then.

“Yeah, he kind of fell in love with you at first sight, Y/N.” his twin chuckled, “Sounds crazy right?”

Growing up, Osamu knows that his brother had attitude problems so imagine his shock and surprise when his twin called him up on a random night and started talking about this girl. This girl who barely paid him any attention at all.

Osamu recounts his thoughts then, how cruel fate would be for his twin to fall in love with a girl who paid him no mind when he had many others on his beck and call. He recalls how he’d call his brother a masochist, telling him to stop the fruitless chase towards you because you barely gave a time of day to Atsumu even if it was clear that he was completely and utterly enamored by you. 

Well, it ended happily for the both of you. Stable careers, dreams reached, happy family, and adorable kids. 

Son of a bitch, the old Osamu would be given a run for his money if he saw what had happened to you two now.

“That must’ve been a long time, then.”

“Oh, trust me.” Osamu breathed out, taking a sip of his wine, “It was only the first few months of the school year that time, Y/N. He says he saw you all the time but he could never pluck out the courage to actually go and talk to you.”

“Hm.” You mused, “I always thought that Atsumu had women hanging by his shoulder.”

Osamu chokes at the idea of Atsumu being a player, “Before he met you, it’s always been about volleyball. The idiot would go so far as insult the girls when they’d disrupt practice.”

“Huh,” you blink, “Was I his first girlfriend then?”

“Not exactly.” Osamu drawls, tapping his chin, “‘tsumu would say yes to girls but he never really knew what being a boyfriend was, he never hung out with the girls he said yes so it never really was a relationship. Hence why he’s got a reputation as a player.”

Osamu recounts even one time how annoyed his brother was when one of his ‘girlfriends’  came to their matches and screamed out his name when he did serves.

“She was fucking annoying,” Atsumu grumbles, walking in the middle of his brother’s tale and casting his twin a look, “Although I do wish that Y/N would come to my games. You never did come to any of them back when I was in college.”

“I was trying to graduate early.” you deadpan, placing the last dish on the dish rack to join them on the table.

“You’re forgiven, sweetheart.” He fakes a coo, making you roll your eyes as you pour yourself a glass.

“Atsumu tells me that he’s never smooth around you.”

“He isn’t.” you glazed, “Back in college when I gave him a tuna flavored onigiri as thanks after our meeting at the frat party, he had a nosebleed.”

Osamu chokes on his drink, “What the hell, ‘tsumu?” he barked, howling in laughter at his twin.

Atsumu would never deny the fact that what we had towards you was a school boy crush at first, he’d always be a nervous mess or his brain would cease to function whenever you came by then in college. He couldn’t put two and two together too, when you simply gave him one word replies, he’d be lost immediately. Not knowing what to say, all the charisma and overconfidence he had went down the drain by your curt replies.

What would anyone expect, really?

He’s never had crushes on anyone growing up.

The idea of putting time and effort towards something that wasn’t volleyball disgusted him yet here he was now, completely whipped for you and the brats while putting volleyball on second.

My, my how the tables have turned.

“You were really hard to talk to then, sweetheart.” He murmurs, “For the record, Y/N was the very first girl I asked out and you didn’t exactly make it easy after. I was thinking I was going to fail after those countless rejections.”

“You’re more pushy than Daiki, I’d have to admit. The guy stopped after his third rejection.”

Osamu raises a brow, he knows of your situation, Atsumu has mentioned it in passing but hasn’t gone into full detail about it but he’s curious, Daiki’s been around longer after all, “He’s known you longer than, ‘tsumu. Probably even deeper back then, how come you never ended up with him?”

Atsumu blinks and turns toward you, he’s curious too, Daiki has even openly admitted that he proposed to you seven years ago after knowing about the kids but you rejected him yet again (that was the last and final attempt)

You swirl the wine around, thinking of a proper response, “To be honest, I don’t know.” you answered, pondering as you turn towards Atsumu, “I just- it never felt right.”

Osamu whistles, “Dang, you just love my twin too much too. I take it back, yer both simps for each other, it's sickening.”

Atsumu lets out a childish tongue out in which he is replied by a middle finger from his other half.

You three continue to talk about random things and after deeming himself too sleepy and needing to open shop early tomorrow, Osamu says his goodbyes.

You sat in front of your vanity as you did your nightly routine, brushing and untangling the tangles of your hair after you showered and changed to a comfortable bedroom attire.

Atsumu exits the shower half naked as usual, his hair damp as he ruffles the towel on it, he slowly approaches your side and dips down to kiss your naked shoulder, “Hey Y/N.” his voice is muffled and vibrating through your skin.

You hummed a reply, still brushing your hair.

“Why didn’t you marry Daiki?”

You paused mid-action and raised a brow at his sudden question, turning to him as he suddenly stood up straighter with his hand now replacing his lips, “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not,” he grumbles, he’s been married to you for two years already and everyday’s like a honeymoon phase that doesn’t end, why would he be jealous of that scrub? as if, “I’m just curious. The idiot’s good looking, rich, good with kids, and a full package. A blind man could admit that.”

“You're a full package too.” 

Atsumu narrows his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment, as if he was saying, really?

You chuckle in a low voice, “Because he’s like my psychiatrist, Atsumu.” You simply said, shaking your head as you turn back to the mirror, “Unlike you, Daiki found out about it accidentally and we weren’t on good terms before that when we were kids. He became nicer so you could say that we became friends because he pitied me.”

Atsumu blinks for a moment, taken aback by your explanation. 

“Growing up, the anxiety would eat me up that Daiki’s friendship and feelings all stemmed because he pitied me. You could never build a decent relationship with that, it wouldn’t be healthy.” you continued then you turned to him, “Remember what I said to you then? How I felt when I was with you?”

Atsumu slowly nods.

“You didn’t pry and that was probably the best and worst thing you ever did throughout our relationship in college.” You smiled softly, “I was never ready to tell you then and you didn’t force me at all. You just kept staying and loving me without knowing anything to the point where I took advantage of it.”

“Y/N-” He dryly starts, knowing where this is going.

“I know I shouldn’t apologize but it was toxic, atsumu.” You softly said, laughing, “I’m really sorry.”

“Well you gave your forgiveness in the form of kids and being my wife until I die, I think it turned out pretty well in the end.”

You cast him a glare in which he immediately raises his two hands, “Hey, we both had our downplays in the relationship. We’re not perfect, sweetheart.” he reassures you as he walks up to you and grabs a hold of your hand with a wedding ring on it, “But we try to improve, learn,and be the best for each other and for those two brat- i mean kids. ”

He proceeds to entangle your fingers with his, “I don’t regret it, ya know.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t regret hanging onto that girl who barely gave me the time of her day then. I don’t regret seeing ya on that random spring day where you give yourself heart palpitations or better yet, I don’t regret everything. I don’t regret any of that. I’d do that shit again if I get to be here now.” He reassures you, he never gets tired to remind you of that as he squeezes your hands.

You cut the serious moment with a laugh, Atsumu is happy these days because of how easy it is for you to be like this around him, “You’re batshit crazy.”

“I was expecting a confession too.” He feigned hurt, “You wound me, sweetheart.”

“You kind of are though.” You stop laughing,wiping the little tears on the side of your eyes, “You’re probably the only person who’d come back after that wretched heartbreak.”

“And you’re the only person who I’d do that to.” Atsumu sticks his tongue out as he tugs you to your shared bed, “Jus’ so ya know, Y/N. You’re impossibly hard to forget. If we never did end up together or if you ended up with Daiki, I think I’d focus on volleyball for the rest of my life.”

“I doubt it.”

Yet Atsumu doesn’t reply and just kisses your lips goodnight as he drags you back to bed, what you didn’t know was that he was telling the truth.

It was just you, the kids, and volleyball (and his brother).

taglist [officially closed, if you guys want to be removed for the side stories, feel free to tell me hehe ilyasm and thank you once again, coward wouldn’t be possible without all you people + other readers]

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[rhodanum]

COVID-19 roller-coaster

Despite its personal nature, I'm making this entry public, since it may be of aid to others as well, in these circumstances. Particularly for people who might end up having highly atypical symptoms like I did.

Long story short, I've been scarce from most forms of social-media for over a month because I caught COVID-19 some time before my country instituted lockdown measures. I was in hospital from the start to the middle of April (roughly two weeks) and started showing symptoms as early as March 18 (runny nose, sneezing, that I ascribed to a common cold, since at that time they weren't considered something that could present in the case of COVID-19). It took me well over a week and a half of battling symptoms at home and calling four ambulances in that time-frame, always getting dismissed on account of my symptoms not matching up with the standards presentation (aside for the runny nose and sneezing, the vast majority of my symptoms have been gastrointestinal, neurological and renal in nature, not pulmonary) before I was finally tested (on April 1st) and admitted to hospital the following day, when the test came back positive.

My timeline of events has been the following (and I'm still currently symptomatic + showed one new COVID-specific symptom even after two negative tests and discharge from hospital):

March 18 - March 23 -- constantly runny nose, post-nasal drip, sneezing all the time, a light cough. Nothing too bothersome, I dismissed it as a seasonal cold. At this point I started burping heavily, out of nowhere, for seemingly no reason.

March 24 -- woke up with a terrible back-pain, roughly in the area of both kidneys. The pain lessened as the day went on. In the evening, I had my first very clear neurological symptom -- my eyesight filled with a sort of black static (like a TV without cable signal), to the point where I could no longer read letters, discern my own features in the mirror or tell how many fingers my father was holding up. Thinking I was having a stroke or hell knows what else, I called an ambulance. The static-like effect lasted around 20 minutes and was completely gone by the time an ambulance crew arrived. They checked my blood-pressure and it was high due to the panic (174/109), so they dismissed the static as a result of the high BP and gave me an ACE-inhibitor pill to lower it.

March 25 -- started feeling kind of grotty around lunch-time. At around five in the afternoon, I vomited up all of my lunch completely undigested. An hour later, the true wave arrived. I went to the toilet with explosive, orange-colored, watery diarrhea, massive urination (wasn't drinking more fluids than usual) and vomiting, all at the exact same time. I'm not joking in the slightest when I say that I had my head in the sink, to puke and my ass in the toilet, to pee and shit out orange water, all three at the same time. The puking subsided, but the diarrhea and the urination kept up and, for the next two hours, I went to the toilet to shit and pee every fifteen minutes. By this point I was getting dangerously dehydrated, so we called our GP. She, suspecting it might be Norovirus, told me that the diarrhea needs to be stopped ASAP and my father went to buy me the necessary medicine.

March 26 -- the diarrhea was relatively under control due to the medication, but I was still pissing buckets and having to constantly drink tea to stay hydrated, with how fast my kidneys were clearing fluids. The light cough that started on March 18 got a bit worse, but not by much. I had no appetite whatsoever and attempted to eat a little at lunch, but only ended up puking again. I was worried enough about the whole thing that I called an ambulance again. The doctors claimed it couldn't be COVID-19 (by this point I was reading reports of diarrhea as a common early symptom). He listened to my lungs and said they're clear. Then he gave me an anti-emetic shot in the bum (so I wouldn't keep throwing up) and tapped my kidneys a few times. When I flinched, he said it might be a urinary tract infection and prescribed me a list of medication, with the antibiotic Ciprofloxacin at the front of it (keep this one in mind, it's very relevant for what happened next). I didn't actually have any pain when I urinated and the urine itself wasn't dark, but rather almost as colorless as water. I was just peeing far too much and the area round my kidneys was tender.

March 27 -- woke up with a persistent cough early in the morning and a sensation of  tickling in the throat, which made the cough worse. This morphed into a  very specific kind of migraine, starting from the very back of the skull  and radiating to the front, to the point where the backs of my eyes  hurt terribly as well. Still peeing a ton and drinking tea and water to stay hydrated. General state of malaise, as if there was something terribly toxic in my body, leeching all the strength and vitality out of it. Started taking the UTI antibiotic (Ciprofloxacin). My eyelids were twitching involuntarily and I had an up-and-down sensation, with some parts of the day being slightly better (able to sit at my desk and watch an episode of a show) and others, just one or two hours later, making me feel so horrid that all I could do was lie motionless in bed. Still had no appetite and force myself to eat a bit of vegetable broth Dad made for me.

March 28 -- horrendous night between the 27th and the 28th. A sensation like a knot developed in my throat and got worse and worse. To the point where, at around three in the morning, I could no longer swallow my own saliva. I could still breathe perfectly fine, no shortness of breath of anything else like that, but the feeling was as if my esophagus went and swelled shut. I had to gather up a large quantity of saliva in my mouth, tip my head back and struggle for several dozen seconds, to be able to swallow. I very nearly choked when trying to take my medication in the morning, after a sleepless night. The inability to swallow subsided, but the sensation of a knot in the throat remained. Feeling of malaise and weakness grew worse. A sensation of brain-fog came on and I could no longer focus on anything. I attempted to read fic on my phone and just ended up reading the same chapter three dozen times, because my brain could no longer process the words. Difficulty speaking and articulating my thoughts. I could still think well enough, but translating said thoughts to words or writing was incredibly difficult. I spent a whole minute just trying to get the word 'insulin' out through my mouth. I knew it, I remembered it, I just couldn't transform it from a thought into a word without a great deal of effort.

March 29 -- another nightmarish night. Not due to problems swallowing, but inability to actually fall asleep. All attempts went the exact same way:

closed eyes and attempted to fall asleep

started hearing a loud, constant and almost nonsensical monologue in my head, in my own voice, often jumping from one language to the other (English, Romanian, Italian, etc all languages I knew). It's difficult for me to describe the contents now, since they barely made any sense, but they were almost everything from a recitation of a shopping list all the way to narratives that didn't make any sense ("and then, get this, the clock bashed his face in!")

started seeing images behind my eyelids, almost as nonsensical as the words -- parades of wild color, me falling through Salvador Dali-like landscapes, images shifting hundreds of times per minute

None of these were dreams, everything was happening while I was still awake and struggling to fall asleep. I'd close my eyes, struggle mightily to empty my head and go the fuck to sleep... and within seconds, the cavalcade of words and disjointed images would erupt again, with me having almost no control over it. After a few minutes I always found the strength to jerk up and open my eyes, which silenced the voice and ended the images... but then I'd have to try closing my eyes again and the circus would repeat again. This happened hundreds of times over the entire night, before I was finally able to fall asleep for a few hours, at six on the morning.

Woke up absolutely soaked in incredibly foul-smelling sweat. So much of it that my bedsheets were wet as well, not just my pajamas.Used what little strength I had to strip the bed, take a shower and change my pajamas. By lunch I was feeling the worst I'd ever felt, shaking convulsively without having any kind of fever and begging 112 (our emergency number) for help. Several friends were worried I might be going into some kind of shock. Our ambulance service was swamped and Dad used his connections to get a hazmat-equipped team to come home and test me for COVID-19. The hazmat team claimed, like the previous ambulance crew, that I couldn't have COVID-19 since I didn't have a fever and wasn't coughing my head off. I pressed to get taken to the hospital and tested, but between them berating me for taking the risk and Dad looking petrified at the idea of me going to a hospital (and getting exposed, at this time he was still convinced I just had a strange flu), I caved and remained home. They said I was probably having an anxiety attack and left.

March 30 -- yet another sleepless night with visual and auditory hallucinations whenever I attempted to fall asleep. Utterly desperate and frantic, I spent the night scouring the Internet for links between COVID-19 and other viral illnesses and hallucinations. In the end, while reading the prospects for all the pills I was taking, I found the culprit -- the goddamn Ciprofloxacin, the antibiotic for the presumed UTI (the area around my kidneys still kept hurting, but the urination continued to be painless, clear and frequent). Hallucinations and psychotic episodes were listed as one of its 'rare side-effects'. Not so rare in my case and other researchers are now taking a hard look at it and other antibiotics in its family, since the numbers of people who end up hallucinating while on the things is apparently larger than previously suspected.  

I immediately contacted my GP, who was shocked at what reaction my body ended up having to Cipro. Nevertheless, she immediately switched me over to another antibiotic we had in the house -- Augmentin, a more broad-spectrum one, but one I'd taken in the past for bacterial infections and responded well to. Urinating slightly less and able to eat a bit more, but the pain in the kidney area was getting worse.  

March 31 -- night hallucinations continued, but at a slightly reduced intensity, once off Cipro. Woke up completely covered in horrible-smelling sweat once again. Left arm numb and then painful, a reaction I was left with after a long bout of the monster-flu two years ago left me with peripheral nerve-damage due to the immune system going completely bonkers and attacking the nerves. This symptom appearing again made it clear that I was experiencing autoimmune issues once again, as a result of my immune system fighting against the SARS-CoV2 virus.

The pain in the kidney-area was growing worse and worse, even with the Augmentin treatment. By evening, I'd called a fourth ambulance in roughly seven days. The paramedics were even more dismissive than the last crew, said I just had some sand or maybe a small kidney-stone and to wait it out at home. They completely refused to take me to the hospital, claiming that I ran the risk of a COVID-19 infection over a small issue.

April 1 -- a slightly better night of sleep, the hallucinations reduced to 10% of their previous intensity, so clearly an effect of the Cipro. The brain-fog was still presence and further research pointed to it as a possible effect of COVID-19, rather than the antibiotic. Woke up drenched in sweat once again, with my cervical area hurting horribly, my kidneys in pain as well and my left arm numb once more. Completely furious and utterly fed-up, I said "fuck the ambulance service!" and begged Dad to take me to the nearest ER by car. By this point I was fearing for my kidneys and feeling so horrid that I was 100% willing to take the chance of COVID-19 infection, if I didn't have it, just to figure out what the bleeding fuck what happening to my body. He refused initially, fearing I would be infected, but was left with no choice in the matter when I threatened to walk to the hospital by myself if he wasn't willing to help.

At the ER closest to our apartment, a hazmat-equipped doctor working triage had me sit down and fill up a questionnaire of symptoms. Even without fever or difficulty breathing or persistent cough (my cough came only in the morning and lasted just a few minutes each day), everything else was enough to make him note "possible COVID-19" and give me a paper to present to our national institute of infectious diseases, so I could get tested. So Dad and me left the ER and drove to Matei Bals Institute, where the doctors were rather puzzled by me, coming in without a fever  and not coughing my lungs out. The chest x-ray turning out perfect (nothing in the lungs) only seemed to increase their skepticism, but they nevertheless tested me, before sending me home and telling me I'd receive the result in 24 hours. Their only recommendation was to talk to a nephrologist on the phone, re: the kidneys.

April 2 -- felt slightly better, though still under heavy malaise and the kidneys were more painful than ever. At about nine in the evening I got a phone call from our local public health authorities, who told me that my RT-PCR test for COVID-19 was positive. Honestly? Instead of being frightened, I was relieved. After almost two weeks of the strangest collection of symptoms I'd ever had, I finally had an explanation as to what on earth was causing them and was vindicated re: the four ambulance crews that dismissed me. The authorities sent an ambulance that picked me up, right along with Dad (quite unwillingly in his case, he only had some sniffles and a minor indigestion, despite having nursed me for well over a week). We got taken back to Matei Bals Institute, where Dad was tested and sent back home (since he didn't have much in the way of symptoms and they had no reason to keep him) and I was admitted into one of the wards. The time was roughly two in the morning.

April 3 -- barely slept due to the noise and light in the ward. Had blood drawn, for blood-work. Malaise as terrible as ever. Started treatment with HCQ (Plaquenil), the anti-malaria drug. The rest of my ward-mates were absolute sweethearts, but I was much too weak to do much other than get out of bed to trudge to the communal bathroom down the hall. Urination (which had slowly reduced in frequency from March 25) still a bit more frequent than usual. Begged the doctor for something to let me sleep and was given a few metallic-tasting, oily drops to drink in the evening. Had the first good night of sleep in well over a week.  

April 4 -- at this point, the kidney pain got so bad that I could barely walk to the bathroom and would grit my teeth in pain whenever I sat down in the bed. Asked one of the nurses for help, with no visible result. The pain was getting worse and I could no longer get out of bed, just lying there in a listless lump. Several of the other people in the beds next to me went to pound on the door separating the 'red zone' from the 'green zone' and demanded that the nurses or doctor see to me. In the end, a young nurse came and struggled for almost thirty minutes to get an IV in me. She was inexperienced and, coupled with having to wear three pairs of gloves and a visor on her face, she could barely see or feel my veins. The result was that she ended up blowing thee of my veins (two on the right hand, one on the left) before she finally managed to get the IV needle in and secured it. Then I got put on a heavy-duty regimen of IV Ceftriaxone (antibiotic), hydration fluids and painkillers, for the next few days.

April 5 - 7 -- slowly got better on the IV regimen. Gained a bit more strength, the pain in the kidney area subsided and I could walk again. Gave urine samples twice and they came back clean (no bacterial infection in the kidneys or urinary tract). On April 6 we were told that the whole lot of us (the seven of us crowded in that ward and everyone else in the same wing of the Institute) would be transferred the next day to Colentina Hospital, just a stone's throw away, which had been officially designated as a COVID-19 support unit. The reasoning was that we'd be placed in smaller wards and the Matei Bals Institute could focus on the critical and very difficult cases, that required everything from oxygen support to full intubation. My IV needle was removed on April 7 and we, dragging our luggage after us, walked from our wing at Matei Bals to the entrance to Colentina, just two hundred meters away. We were dispersed all over the Internal Medicine wing and I got lucky enough to be placed in a room with just two beds, sharing with a lovely 81 year-old lady, who was COVID-19 positive, but utterly asymptomatic. Got blood drawn again and also had an EKG done (no cardiac abnormalities). Also had another x-ray, lungs still entirely clear. Got tested for COVID-19 once again, but the result came back 'inconclusive' the next day. The treatment with Plaquenil was ceased and I received no further medication, save for what I requested to handle inconsistent stools.  

April 8 - 9 -- kept getting stronger and stronger, able to sit out of bed and walk for extensive periods of time. Bowels still somewhat disturbed and shifting between constipation and diarrhea and then back again,with the stool always being a bright, sun-yellow. Otherwise no pains or other malaise present. Got tested for COVID-19 once more on April 9.  

April 10 -- some of the first ever symptoms I had, in middle March (runny nose, sneezing, stomach constantly full of air and always burping) came back at this point, along with noticeable muscle soreness in my upper arms and shoulders, even though I'd never made any great physical effort. The test taken on April 9 came back 'negative', so the doctors ignored me when I told them that I was having old symptoms come in for an encore. Tested once again.

April 11 -- the burping and stomach-distention due to air grew worse. The 'knot in throat' symptom returned. The test from April 10 came back 'negative' as well and since I fulfilled the criteria of two negatives in 24 hours, I was discharged and had Dad come and pick me up. The Colentina doctors, completely inexperienced re: COVID-19, claimed that my gastro symptoms were likely caused by something else.

April 12 - 16 -- uncertain period, with the typical 'up and down' pattern making a return. One day I was feeling fine and had energy, the other way I was wiped out and could barely get out of bed. Frequent urination (once every twenty minutes) decided to make a return as well and I broke down in tears. Also got a brand-new symptom -- pink-eye straight out of nowhere, which has also been associated with COVID-19 infection.

April 17 -- worst day since the first ones in hospital. Completely exhausted and dealing with a horrible pain at the base of my skull, that was pulsing slowly, radiating down the spinal column and up into the skull. Doesn't respond to Paracetamol and I didn't want to risk taking Ibuprofen. Getting dehydrated due to the constant urination once more, so I started drinking water with electrolytes whenever I could. Fell down on my way to the bathroom, when a veil of darkness passed over my eyes for a few seconds. Everything was spinning and I felt as if I was disassociating and floating away from my own body. Felt better only after more water with electrolytes.

April 18 - 20 -- still felt crappy, but marginally better than on the 17th. Pumped myself full of vitamin C, vitamin D (have a long-standing deficiency there), magnesium and potassium from bananas, kale, spinach, probiotics from yogurt with live cultures in it, to re-balance my likely ravaged gut flora. My appetite, decent in the hospital and shot to pieces again on the 17th, was slowly making a comeback once more. Still burping and full of air no matter what I ate, still pissing frequently. One of the things with COVID-19 was that it made my GERD flare up about ten times worse than usual. Started treating it with a proton-pump inhibitor (Omez) which handled the extra acidity and the heartburn, but not the burping and trapped air. Kidney region started hurting again and at this point I didn't know if it even was the kidneys themselves (both urine samples and blood-work in the hospital showed no problem whatsoever with the kidney function, in spite of the weird symptoms) or just nerve-pain in the area of the kidneys.

April 21 - 23 -- slowly gained strength once more, able to get out of bed and work at my PC. Pain in the kidney region came and went, urination slowly started to reduce in frequency once again. Still drinking water with electrolytes, taking vitamins, eating as varied as I can.

April 24 -- best day so far today (hope I don't bloody jinx it). Energy levels almost back to my baseline, though still left with burping, constant air in stomach and general laziness in digestion. Stool of normal frequency, color and texture after the probiotic regimen. Left with lingering nerve-pain in the cervical area, the shoulders, the lower left ribs in the front and the lower back. Urination frequency reducing to more normal levels once again, feeling less like a constantly dehydrated prune.

It's been... almost five weeks since the first symptoms. A long and exhausting ride and I still don't know what might pop up again. But still far preferable to those poor souls who end up unable to breathe and in full-blown ARDS, needing to be sent straight into the ICU.

Why did I have another flare-up, after two negative tests? Your guess is as good as mine, right now. I have a few theories:

consistent with those articles coming out of South Korea, false negative results might be more widespread than we suspect, in some cases. Either because the virus might be able to hide in the central nervous system and pop back up again for another tangle with one's immunity or because the immune response can lower viral concentration in the body enough for a test to come back negative, without the virus actually being defeated for good.

the test results are correct, the virus is gone from my body and all of what I'm still dealing with are a the result of post-viral systemic inflammation. Not an unlikely thing, since I have a short history of dealing with autoimmune bullshit after that flu two years ago left me with enough nerve-damage that I was unable to walk for a whole month and took six months to recover fully + still wake up with the left side of the body temporarily numb and huge pain in the spinal column if I ever sleep on a shitty mattress, that doesn't offer decent back support.

I want to do more blood-work, see if markers for autoimmune activity show up, but unfortunately, that's pretty difficult to do now, with most hospitals up to their eyeballs in COVID-19 and private clinics charging an eye-watering price for such tests. Dad is almost broke until pay-day, due to how much money he spent in the last month on medicine for me, so it will have to wait or we'll figure something out if my situation worsens again and it becomes imperative to get treatment against autoimmune response. Taking this thing one day at a time.

An overview of my COVID-19 symptoms, good to keep an eye out for:

Gastrointestinal:

explosive, orange, foul-smelling diarrhea

excessive flatulence

vomiting

aggressive flare-up of GERD

excessive burping

swollen, painful stomach due to constantly trapped air

difficulty swallowing

feeling of knot stuck in throat

lack of appetite

Neurological:

temporarily failing vision due to static-like images over the eye's perception

twitching eyelids

nerve-pain in the cervical area

migraine starting at the back of the head and radiating to the backs of the eyes

nerve-pain in all sorts of odd places, coming and going (the left ankle, the left front rib, the right back rib, the kidney area)

dizziness

brain-fog and temporary difficulty with focusing / with coherent speech

Renal:

very frequent urination, though blood-work indicated no disfunctionality with the kidneys

Upper respiratory:

runny nose, post-nasal drip

sneezing

light cough, early in the morning, accompanied by a ticking in the throat sensation that set it off

Unsure how to categorize:

foul-smelling night-sweats, intense enough to soak through clothes and sheets

pink-eye

No shortness of breath, no fever, no lung involvement in my case. This is a virus that the human body responds to in ridiculously varied ways, from that cute little old lady at Colentina, who was totally asymptomatic, to me, where it manifested almost like bloody cholera (the violent diarrhea, vomiting and pissing at the same time, like something was trying to squeeze all of the water out of my body), to one of my ward-mates at Matei Bals, who had developed pneumonia and required moderate oxygen support and was well on the mend when we got dispersed, to the unfortunate souls who end up in ICU with ARDS.

Take care of yourselves, be vigilant and stay safe.

[acrcsstheuniversee]

Mother

Pairings: None?

Warnings: Mommy issues?, lots of angst, panic attack, thoughts of drug use, taboo thoughts, masturbation, vomit (oh man these warnings are horrid lol)

Rating: Mature

Words: 1000+

Summary: 1967 John is spiraling as he thinks about his late mother.

Author’s Note: This story is a bit taboo? This was inspired by John’s songs he wrote about his mother, Julia. When reading his lyrics, the thought of John having serious mommy issues crossed my mind. I’m sure I’m not the only one that thinks that either. The fic might not be as extreme as I think it is but you see the warnings -- read at your own discretion.

Also, some details may not be historically accurate. 

It was another long day at the recording studio for the band. The four of them have been writing and recording for hours to piece together their next album.

Their long-time producer George Martin had them do take after take which John usually didn’t mind because like Paul, he too was perfectionist. But today, from the moment he got up, everything felt like a drag. He didn’t even give any input or thought into his guitar playing the entire time.

When the recording session came to an end, John made little conversation with the others. He replied with a simple “yes,” “no,” or “hmm” but no one questioned him.

When they all made it outside of the building, John rushed over to his Rolls-Royce parked in front. He hurried inside and drove off without saying goodbye. The man felt like shit and wanted nothing but to smoke or do some blow once he got home. He doesn’t know what coming upon him but he has been having these moments for quite sometime now.

It was dark already and the road was hard to see, especially with the vision John had regardless if he had his glasses on or not. The road was bumpy, making his stomach churn faster than it already was.

What’s wrong with me? Am I getting sick? Was it something I ate?

John thought hard to himself as he tried his best to focus on the road but felt the overwhelming feeling develop at the front of his head as well. He blinked his beady eyes hard a few times but that did nothing but make him slightly dizzy.

“Shit,” John said to himself as he slightly swerved out of lane. Luckily, not many people were on the road at this time of night. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over by a policemen for how reckless his driving appeared to be.

After driving what felt like hours, but was actually 20 minutes, finally came to an end. John pulled up on his driveway and turned off the car immediately and just sunk into the driver seat with his eyes closed.

Not long after, he suddenly felt his stomach start to churn again but this time whatever it was came up, making him shove his door open to vomit on the concrete.

John let his head hang as held himself up with one hand on the door and the other on stirring wheel, letting his light brown hair dangle in front of his forehead. Snot leaked from his nose onto his mustache and saliva dripped down his chin.

He kept his eyes shut before opening them slowly to see he vomited the food he ate more than eight hours ago. Even after he vomited, he felt like crap. If anything, he felt even worst. A weird fuzziness clouded his brain, making him lean his head on the arm holding onto the car door.

He slowly closed his tiny eyes again but began to see flashes of his mother. The times he spent at her home, the warmth he felt when she taught him how to play the banjo, the way she called him baby, the lift in his stomach when she would kiss his cheek ever so lightly with her soft lips before he fell asleep...

Before John knew it, tears filled under his closed eyelids and made their way down the bridge of his curved nose to drop into his puke.

The young man bit his lip as he tried to choke back more tears, but failed miserably when he found his face in his hands, leaning his forehead against the stirring wheel. He sobbed as quietly as he could but once in awhile let out a strangled groan in frustration with himself.

He removed his circle specs and wiped his wet face aggressively with his sleeves, leaving them damp with tears, sweat, saliva, and snot.

“Fuck, damn it...” He whispered, throwing his head back into the head rest.

He stared straight ahead and started to think of his mother again as tears continued to roll down his cheeks.

Julia... seashell eyes, windy smile, calls me

Julia... her hair of floating sky is shimmering, glimmering in the sun

Her smile began to haunt him. The way she smiled at him when he sang “Blue Moon” by Billie Holiday or when he sang her one of his own.

She would hug him tightly and plant red kisses all over his face then gently wipe it off with a warm towel. The smaller marks were taken care of by her licking her thumb and rubbing them off.

He licked his drying lips at the thought of her wetting her thumb.

Without realizing it, John started to palm his stiffening member through his slacks. He stared straight ahead, almost forgetting to blink as tears continued to meet at the tip of his chin, dripping onto his shirt. 

It didn’t take long for his hand to snake under his pants and boxers to start pumping his fully erect dick. He threw his head back against the head rest and sunk into his seat yet again.

“Julia... ah... mummy...” John moaned as lowly as possible, picking up the speed of his strokes and twisting his wrist when he stroked upwards to the tip.

“Nnngh...” He shut his eyes and began to think hard about her hugs again and how small she was between his arms. She smelled so good.

He pumped faster this time, making him start to sweat, his breathing getting heavier by the second. 

“Mummy... I-I’m...I’m so close...” he whined through his teeth as thoughts about his mother spiraled his head.

From her voice, to her lips, to her touch, to her---”Nnnghhh...aaahh...” John’s eyes remained shut as he released into pants, slowing his stokes down until he was finished.

For a moment, he just laid there before removing his hand from under his slacks and sitting up right.

He felt a chill crawl up his back, making him realize how fucked up this all was.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he asked himself, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

After a few moments he slowly made his way out of his car, avoiding his vomit and making his away to the front door only thinking about what he’s going to tell Cynthia about the mess on the driveway the next morning---immediately attempting to block out what just happened.

The End

[libra-kirishima]

So you know the last headcanons you did for Nejire ? Can you please make a fanfic out of it ? It was so cute and awesome ❤️

You bet the fuck I can. And it's long as all hell, because I don't know how to stop, so it's gotta be split into multiple parts.

I love my wife!! Thank you for requesting this.

(A link to the headcanons that inspired this fic)

(A link to part two)

-

A single lily, baby pink in colour and prettier than any lily she had ever seen before sat at her desk. A ribbon in the same colour as the flower was wrapped around the stem into a beautiful bow, with a hole-punched notecard attached.

Heard you liked lilies.

Hope this smile as much as you make me smile.

She hadn't seen who had left it for her, but she desperately wished she had. Especially as the months continued, and at least once a week she would find flowers of all different types and colours left somewhere she would find them. By the time two months had passed, there had been nineteen. Four at her desk in homeroom, four in her locker, three taped to her dorm room, and eight in her gym locker before hero training.

"So they have to have training the same period as you, right?" Yuyu reasoned, looking over the handwriting.

Congrats on being crowned the most beautiful girl at UA.

Of course, I already knew you were, but I'm thrilled everyone else is starting to recognize it.

Another quick scan of the handwriting to one specific conclusion. "Hey, 'jire," Nejire's eyebrows raised. "The handwriting looks kinda... feminine? And they have access to the girl's locker room, so mayb-" Yuyu stopped once she saw her best friend's face shift to convey clear worry. She had a good idea about what was going through her head. She was her best friend. What kind of best friend didn't know the sort of things their best friend was going through. She seire she had a sixth sense dedicated solely to Nejire.

Though she decided to leave it alone. That's something Nejire needs to work through on her own, she decided.

-

The next big moment in Nejire's investigation came by total accident.

Less an accident of her own and more of a beginner's mistake on the behalf of her peer and Big 3 counterpart, Mirio Togata.

"Mirio?"

"Oh, hey!" He called cheerfully, before recognizing how much he fucked up. He dashed the flowers behind his back, taking the time to regret every second he's been alive in the time Nejire spends staring him down with curious eyes. "Uh, what are you doing here?" He chuckled nervously, immediately coming to regret his choice of those words in that order.

"This is my room." She answered. Nejire tried to peek what was behind his back, but the fact that he kept turning them away from her, and the sheer size difference he had on her made it nearly impossible. She did, however, catch a familiar glint of various shades of green. "Were you the one leaving me all those flowers?" She asked. She didn't know why she sounded disappointed, or how she could be disappointed in the outcome when she had no idea who was behind them in the first place, but she felt her face fall as he nodded.

"I was," He answered, though before Nejire could state how she just didn't feel the same way, he elaborated on his answer. "But they aren't from me. I'm just the delivery man." Nejire felt the hope and curiosity rise back within her.

"Why you?"

"Because I'm the only person who can sneak into places and leave them there without you noticing or getting suspicious."

"Oh," She nodded, applauding the person behind these flowers for being so smart about this. "Wait, have you been sneaking into the girl's locker room?"

"Nah, that's all them." He chuckled. "I mentioned you were having a bit of a rough week, so they gave me this and asked me to leave it somewhere you would see. I was going to leave it on your dresser so when you got back to your dorm at the end of the day you'd see these and maybe feel better." He finally pulled them from behind his back to reveal to Nejire a huge bouquet with white Jasmine and the biggest, most beautiful lilies she'd ever seen. She gasped out loud at the sight of them, feeling her heart rate speed up as Mirio put them in her hands.

"Well, I'll be going."

"Wait, Togata!" She caught his wrist before he had the chance to flee. "Who is it?"

"That's confidential information, Hadou." He joked. "She's already gonna tear me apart for getting caught by you."

"She?" Nejire wondered, only realizing afterwords that she was thinking out loud. Mirio cringed, realizing that he let his friend down, and far worse than either of them had expected.

"Fuck."

-

"Yuyu..." Nejire called out in a tired daze. They were having a sleepover in the form common room, and finally decided to call it a night after four consecutive hours of Netflix binging.

"Yeah?"

"I think the person that sends me those flowers is a girl." She stated drowsily. It had been about two weeks since she had seen Mirio outside her door delivering these flowers for her on behalf of a friend of his. A female friend, apparently.

"I had a feeling." Yuyu stated simply. They stayed silent for a good while, with only the sounds of their breathing being left for Nejire to think about. She wanted to think about anything but the person behind those flowers. "Are you, uh... Are you, like, into that?"

"Like into girls?" Nejire asked in return. She felt a knot develop in her throat, still with no idea why.

"Yeah..." More silence filled the atmosphere. Even in the pitch blackness, she could feel Nejire's tension. "You know, 'jire... There's nothing wrong about it either way." Nejire hummed in thought. She attempted to swallow the lump in her throat before she spoke.

"Y' sure?"

"Yeah. Whether you're into boys or girls or both or neither, you're still my same Nejire. And if you start to think one thing but you find out somewhere along that path that you were wrong, then there's nothing wrong with that either. It's normal, it's healthy, and it's a natural part of figuring out who you are."

"It is?"

"Yeah, of course it is. I didn't always know I was gay."

"But I thought that was a thing..." She mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Like when you talk to lesbians they're like 'I always have known I liked girls... I've never liked guys... I've been in love with girls since elementary school. I never ever had a doubt about it ever, and this is something I've known my entire life.'" Yuyu giggled at the way Nejire's voice raise as she was voicing her nameless lesbian.

"Well sure, there are some that are like that, but it isn't every time. In fact, I think more often than not girls that like other girls have a hard time recognizing it because they don't really know that they can feel that way about girls. Coming from a bisexual woman, I feel like girl crushes feel really different from crushes on guys, because there's like a societal thing with the way boys and girls behave and typically girls are just... Supposed to be friendly and sweet in terms of, like, societal gender roles? That's a discussion for a different time, but the fact of the matter is that men and women just generally act different. So because at the most basic level your brain is in this mindset of how men and women do these different things, it can be hard to process sometimes that the feelings you have towards girls are crushes and not just wanting to be someone's friend or thinking someone is too cool for you." Nejire nodded, thinking over her best friends words for a long while. A soft hum finally escaped her throat. "What's going through your head?" Yuyu questioned.

"Yuyu..."

"Hm?"

"Yuyu, I think I might be a lesbian..."

-

You went to place another flower on Nejire's desk before class started, but found a folded slip of paper already present, with a lily drawn in pink glitter pen. Against your own better judgement, you picked it up, unfolding the paper and reading its contents.

If you're reading this, and you're the person who's been leaving me flowers, please meet me outside of the northern courtyard entrance at 6:00 p.m. tomorrow. ❤

- Hadou Nejire

(And if you're reading this and you're not the person who's been leaving me flowers, this note isn't for you. Please fold it back up and return it where you found it. Thank you.)

-

"Should I go?"

"I don't know, (Y/N)."

"What do you mean you don't know?" You whined, flopping yourself down onto his bed right beside him. "You're supposed to provide the voice of reason here. It can't be my job all the time." You pulled one of the pillows from his bed over your face and let out a long muffled groan. Once you pulled the pillow from your face, you saw a pair of dark blue button eyes staring back at you from directly above you.

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Probably."

"I think you should go meet her. What's the worst that could happen?"

You paused, taking time to think over every possible worst-case scenario. "You're ovethinking and I can tell you are. Stop that." He scolded. He continued to speak while he returned to doing his homework. "The worst thing that could happen is she rejects you, which sucks, yeah, and it'll hurt for a little while, but then it's over and you now know for sure whether she was into you. No more wasting your time." You pulled Mirio's pillow back to your face and muffled another long groan. He didn't speak again until he knew your ears were free. Words of encouragement seemed to be all he could provide. He watched you pull the pillow away from your face again, chuckling to see little daisies popping out between strands of your hair. "But I really think you should go meet her. Hadou's really been loving those flowers..."

"Yeah, I guess, but she's gonna be disappointed when they come from a sad lesbian instead of the man of her dreams."

"She might as well be writing you 'hey, if you like Piña Coladas and gettin' caught in the rain, meet me!' and I can't believe you're still debating it. Just go." You giggled at his Nejire impression, following it all with a heavy sigh. "The worst that could happen is rejection. She'll even let you down easy, but I'm willing to put 2000 yen on it right now that she won't. It'll be fine. You know how she is."

"Yeah, alright, I guess..."

-

"North courtyard entrance, North courtyard entrance, north courtyard entrance. Don't fuck this up. Six o'clock. Six p.m. What time is it now?" You stopped muttering to yourself to pull your phone out of your pocket and check the time. "5:53. Okay, I'm not going to be late. I still have some time. Don't fuck this up. Should I have brought something? Flowers? Is that overkill?" You stopped in place to debate with yourself over it. Two flower buds sprouted from the skin behind your jaw, wrapping over the shell of your ear as you grew more and more nervous. "I've gotta call Mirio..." With nervous hands, you scrambled to pull your phone from your pocket once more and dial his number while you still had time. He answered on the second ring.

"If you're calling me to say that you're not going because you chickened out, I'll go over there-" His voice grew softer. He was talking to someone in the room with him. "What? No, you have to come with me. Please? (Y/N) needs us, Tam- Yeah, us. Both of us. Me and you. Hadou needs us too. It's importa-"

"Mirio," You whined.

"Yeah? You can't change your mind last minute. You've come this far-"

"No, I'm gonna do it. I just had a question."

"Oh, what can I do for you?"

"Would bringing her flowers be overkill?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

"You don't?"

"No. If you're gonna meet her, might as well go big or go home. She'd appreciate it."

"I'm not really the 'go big' type. Actually, I wanna go home..."

"Nope, sorry. It's too late."

"Mirio, this is-"

"(Y/N)," He started faking static noises through the reciever. "You're breaking up-" more fake static. You swore you could hear Tamaki's voice ask him what he's doing. "I've gotta go-" fake static. "Call me back- I can't hear you- tell me how it goes." He hung up the phone.

"Dork." You grumbled. With a soft sigh, you lowered yourself to the ground, growing a decent bunch of baby pink lilies and cutting them at the base of the stem. "There. I'm identifyable, I'm presentable, I'm decent, I just need to assure I'm on time and I don't embarrass myself. No problem. No problem at all." You muttered. "What time is it anyways." You checked the time for what felt like the 16th time in the past ten minutes. "6:03." You nodded, slipping your phone into your pocket once more. Not even a moment later your brain finally processed that number's significance. "Shit, I'm late."

-

Nejire was waiting patiently when you spotted her, sat at the far edge of a bench with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. She was out of her school uniform, wearing something bright and summery in its place, and her hair was up for once, with half of it in a bun at the top of her head and the other half down.

She looked beautiful.

No turning back now...

Careful steps were taken in her direction. You became hyper-conscious of every move your body made. All in the name of keeping from embarrassing yourself. She locked eyes on you as you drew closer. Time almost seemed to stop in that moment. Your body was still moving, but your brain was frozen in that moment. The way her hair blew in the breeze, with a few loose strands blowing across her face. The way her skin glowed in the light of the setting sun. How bright her smile became as her eyes moved from your face to the lilies in your hand, and back to you once again.

Her eyes.

So warm and inviting, and the most beautiful shade of blue you had ever seen.

It was easy falling in love with Nejire.

So easy that you did so from the first time you locked eyes with her.

-

Nejire would have never thought that the she would think so much about the sweet, bubbly, mystery girl from 3-B in her entire life. The competitor she'd lost against in the sports festival her first year, damaging her pride and bringing her to tears, now made her happier than she ever knew she could be with one person.

And yet there were countless nights where she would lie awake at the earliest hours of the morning, playing over the day's events with you, and dreaming of any possible way her time with you could continue. How she could take you out for dinner at this cute Italian restaurant downtown, and how you'd fight with her over who pays the bill. She'd end up taking it when you'd look away and handing it to the waitress with a smug smile on her face. It would be cold out when you finally step outside, and you probably wouldn't hesitate to remove your jacket around her shoulders. You'd insist to buy her desert since she payed for dinner, just like you did the last time she payed. And she'd quickly agree, wanting to spend as much time as she possibly could with you. She'd never want that night to end.

But of course, even in Nejire's fantasy it would have to end eventually. So you'd take her home, walk her to her door. She'd kiss you, and finally get to tell you what she'd been meaning to for months. The words she'd had on her mind since the day she met you in the courtyard. The words she's waited patiently to say since you first began dating.

"(Y/N), I love you."

Nejire sighed hopelessly, realizing she had gotten so lost in her own daydreams that she'd said those words aloud. If only she could finally bring herself to do it in person.

[fanaticwritings]

of sunflowers;

pairing: deviant!connor x deviant!alina (OC)

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: slight angst, insecurities, body image issues, slight body shaming, profanity, but LOADSA fluffy fluff

a/n: This fic is for the amazing @shsl-special-fx-artist​ who was kind enough to commission me! Honestly, I let my heart write this fic because one of the major plot points is something that’s very personal to me. I don’t know if I was able to put my feelings across but I really, really hope you enjoy this! Also, I hope I did your character and request justice!

If you enjoy my writing and have an idea that you’d like to see come to life, consider commissioning me! || buy me a coffee

[note- unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own.]

The Detroit Psychiatric Centre at which Alina worked was one of the biggest care facility for humans and now androids, to have ever been built.

Connor and Alina walked into the huge glass building and the air instantly turned cold and somber. It was a high June afternoon of peak summer and yet, Alina found herself shivering. Flocks of people sat on the chairs at the waiting area, a look of worry and despair etched on their faces. The gloomy mood of the building did little to lift their dull spirits. Alina felt something tug inside of her, a dire wish flashing in her brain. A deep desire to help these troubled humans somehow.

“Which ward?” The HJ300 at the desk asked them.

“73839,” Alina answered promptly.

The patient at the ward was a middle aged man, almost 45 years old, as Alina’s database told her. He had a severe case of drug addiction. Alina was to tend to him for the next four months, after which he would be sent to rehab if there was no improvement.

“Hello, Mr. Geronimo,” she greeted, flashing a sweet smile and walked into the ward, Connor following her close behind.

Mr. Geronimo mumbled something inaudible as he shifted in his chair slowly, a blank expression on his face.

“I am Alina. How are you today, Mr. Geronimo?” she asked kindly.

He mumbled something again, his chin trembling slightly. “Where is it?” he seemed to say and Alina grimaced.

Humans were so fragile, it amazed and troubled Alina greatly. Everything there was to know about them was programmed into her already but they somehow still managed to surprise her at times.

Alina talked to the man for a while, as she tried to understand the extent of his addiction and how to begin his treatment. The man became more and more irritated with every question Alina threw at him. She spoke gently but it didn't seem to make any difference. Connor had to physically contain the man, who suddenly stood up and flung himself at Alina. He was given a sleeping pill then and collapsed almost immediately.

“How do you do this everyday?” Connor asked, softly when Geronimo was rested on his bed.

“It is what I was programmed to do, Connor,” she replied, glancing at the man.

“But you are now deviant, Alina. You could do anything you want,” he said, confusion lining his face.

“Deviant or not, it is still what makes me, me. Taking care of people is something I enjoy doing, it comes to me naturally,” she paused, glancing at Connor.

“Would you do anything other than fight crime?”

Connor's eyebrows furrowed at that. Alina could see that he was thinking hard.

“I suppose not,” he said finally, looking at her.

Alina smiled at that.

“My shift is finished. We should go back to Hank,” she announced after a while and Connor nodded.

They ambled back into the outside world, where everything was a bit lighter and cheery. Everywhere around them humans and androids walked and talked harmoniously, and Alina felt immense happiness course through her.

They decided to walk to the DCPD instead of taking any other sort of transportation. Connor didn't say much on the way, he seemed to be lost deep in thought. It was evident in the way his forehead was all scrunched up and mouth twisted into a slight frown.

One strand of hair curled at his forehead- a trademark characteristic that distinguished him from other RK800 models.

Human emotions… were complex. So much so, that even humans didn't understand the extent of them. When the first AI was created, it had a conscious- the first prototype conscious that would be the foundation for the androids that were built today.

Alina’s model, however, was a bit advanced, in terms of the extent to which she could emulate human behavior. Her brain, which housed her conscious also had artificial glands that released the android version of human hormones like oxytocin-a2. It wasn't a hormone, but a 256-bit code that made her “feel” for those she tended to. It made her tender and gentle- almost motherly in nature.

Since her deviancy, the code had corrupted- or rather morphed into something else that she wasn't obviously programmed to understand. It transformed to make her even more gentle, more understanding of human emotions. That's why she had worked with Hank and Connor to understand deviants and help in dealing with them.

Working with Connor, in human terms, had been life changing. He was specifically built to help the police department but he was the gentlest android Alina had ever met. He was kind, took care of her without being prompted to but was also focused when it came to fulfilling his missions.

Over time Alina began experiencing strange things, like random system errors and regular crashes. All of those happened around Connor and Connor only. She felt more and more inclined towards him- her eyes would always search for him in a crowded room. In her spare time, more often than not, she found herself thinking about him.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that she had developed a sense of attraction towards him.

Still, she was in denial of everything she felt. It confused her immensely and as an android.. she wasn't used to confusion.

Admittedly though, she enjoyed watching Connor and those little, endearing things he did.

Distracted by just how beautiful Connor was looking right now, she didn't see where she was going and bumped into something- someone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, composing herself. A group of middle-aged men stood before her. As fate would have it, she'd bumped into the burliest of them all.

“Watch where you're going, droid,” the man said, agitated. The tone with which he said 'droid’ was almost offensive. Alina didn't mull over it much though.

“I'm sorry,” she said again, louder and clearer this time. She proceeded to walk away but the man had other plans.

“Fucking droids. Just because you have rights now-,”he raved. He said this in a hushed tone but knew that Alina could very well hear him.

Connor seemed to have finally noticed that something was up and stalked back to Alina’s side.

“What's the problem?” he asked, gentle yet stern.

“Your friend here doesn't realise how huge she is. Could bowl a few people over this 'un,” the man replied, an ugly sneer curling at his lips.

His words stung. Literally stung. Alina could feel her thirium pump beat faster as she struggled to be rational. His words didn't mean anything, then why did she want to crawl into a hole and hide forever?

“There's no need to be so rude, sir,” Connor said calmly but Alina saw his shoulders tense up and jaw clench.

“Don't fucking talk to me like that, you plastic sack of shit,” the man yelled, going against Connor, bumping his chest into him.

Alina was having none of this. Swallowing her anger, she tried to pull Connor away.

“Move over, the elephant’s on a rampage,” the man mocked which made a couple of men in the group laugh.

Alina tried to ignore them and pull Connor away. But Connor didn't budge. His eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched even harder. In the blink of an eye, the man was being pushed up against a wall and a few good inches off the ground. Connor fisted the man’s collar, slamming him against the wall once more.

“Shut up, you pathetic excuse of a human,” he spat through gritted teeth. The rest of the men in the group had moved away, staring at Connor with wide eyes.

“If you ever, ever talk shit to another android again, I'll make sure you don't have a tongue anymore,” he threatened, giving the man a last, shuddering slam. The LED on the side of his forehead swirled to a dark red.

“Do what you want, scum. I’m gonna call the cops on you and your uglyass girlfriend,” the man spat, his face red and attempted to push Connor away but to no avail. 

Just as Connor raised a fisted hand to punch him, Alina interjected. “Stop! Connor, let him go,” she screamed silently, communicating through the telepathic link that connected all droids.

Connor’s grip on the man faltered as he glanced at her, watching the pained expression on her face and the tremble in her lips.

“We're bigger than this,” she spoke clearly, even though her chest physically hurt as she tried to control herself.

Connor hesitated for a moment before he let the man go, mouth contorted in disgust.

The man, nor the group, dared follow them as they walked away.

Alina didn't have the nerve to look at Connor; she didn't think she'd like what she'd see. She'd never seen this side of Connor before. Never been on missions that involved severe violence. It scared the hell out of her.

That, however, was secondary. Her mind kept going back to the man and his words. Alina was used to this sort of behavior but it fueled her insecurity nonetheless. All the positive emotions she'd manage to gulp down to shove those treacherous thoughts away, vanished as they rounded the corner to her house.

She didn't want to go back to the DCPD, she wasn't stable.

“Alina-,” Connor began as they approached the gates to her apartment. Alina looked up at him, finally. A troubled expression graced his face and his LED flashed a bright yellow.

“I'm truly sorry for what happened,” he said, wringing his hands together.

Alina shook her head. If she spent a second longer here, she wouldn't be able to control herself.

“It's fine,” she mumbled, flashing him a weak smile and turned away.

She heard him call her name as she brisk walked to and up the stairs. In a matter of seconds she was inside her tiny apartment and then in her room, slamming the door of the bathroom behind her.

She slid down against it, as every emotion washed over her, drowning her. Androids couldn't breathe but she was suffocating- her functions failed slightly, the LED on the side of her head burning a bright red.

And then the tears came.

Unless androids willed for the tears to stream out, the artificial saline water would never leave their synthetic skin.

But as the events of what had transpired came back to her, haunting her thought process and shadowing all rationality, she seemed to have lost all control over herself.

“Could bowl a few people over, this 'un.”

She buried her face into her hands, as the tears slid down her cheeks and fell to the ground.

For a while she stayed there, unmoving, sobbing into her arms.

Why was she made this way?

She stood up then and walked over to the mirror in the bathroom. Her reflection greeted her back- a blue tinted, tear streaked face she knew all too well. And hated.

Blonde hair curled over her forehead in bangs that swept towards the right, and a neat bun that the rest of her hair was twisted into.

Closing her eyes, she willed her programming to alter her hair into a light brown that fell down her back in mermaid curls.

They didn't suit her at all.

She tried a bunch of different hairstyles, a million different textures but none framed her chubby face well.

The fault lay in the structure of her body itself, then.

The synthetic layer of her body peeled away, replaced by the standard white-grey plastic alloy.

She had a voluptuous body. It was a part of her structure, something she had absolutely no control over. If she wanted to, she could never change that aspect about herself. 

Why was she so limited? Why was she different from the rest of the Androids?

Why was she the one who had to hear Gavin tease her all the time? Hear countless people mock her physique?

How was any of this fair to her?

The questions pounded through her head and she could not think one possible answer.

It just was.

She wasn't the conventional android.

She was an imperfect mess. An unattractive, bloated mess. It hurt to see androids that were so much more beautiful than her, androids that didn't get to be at the receiving end of the cruelty of some humans. It hurt to see Connor turn back and glance at a passing Android, as they walked together and be completely unaware of her existence.

The shrill sound of her doorbell jerked her from her thoughts. She quickly reactivated her skin, and wiped the tears on her palm.

It was Connor at the door.

“I really do not want to talk right now,” she muttered, looking away and turning to close the door. It was unlike Alina, to shut the door on someone she loved but for the first time ever she felt.. exhausted.

“Alina, please,” was all he said, voice a mere rasp.

Alina pulled the door open a smidge, although her heart wasn't fully into it.

“We need to talk,” he said, walking in, waiting for her to join him after she had locked the door.

Alina settled down on the tiny couch and Connor sat down right beside her, hips touching.

“If it's about today, Connor- I would rather not,” she said, politely. She just couldn't. She couldn't go through it again.

Connor's expression softened.

“I know. But I read your stress levels today, Alina. They were at a 100% when the man..”

Alina looked up at him. She didn't want to tear up again. Not in front of Connor. She wasn't weak, no. She couldn't be weak.

“I want to know what you're thinking,” Connor said, nudging her shoulder. He sounded so gentle, Alina almost gave in. Damn the electricity that surged through her whenever he spoke. Damn the synapses in her brain that sparked brightly at his touch.

“Why?”

Alina didn't want to sound ungrateful. She was glad that Connor was making an effort, but right now her rationality couldn't make sense out of anything.

“You are my friend, Alina. Friends care for each other. I feel.. I must too,” he said softly.

She didn't know what to say to that.

“I didn't want to fight the man today,” Connor said quietly, after a while. “But I felt… this need to protect you and-”

He glanced at her, faltering. “I apologise for my behavior. I seemed to have scared you.”

“It's okay, Connor,” she said, smiling weakly. Connor’s sudden outburst was the least of her worries right now.

“It’s not okay. But..that is not the only reason why I'm here,” he said, voice dropping an octave.

“I sensed utmost discomfort in you when the man was talking. While I understand the reason, I couldn't help but wonder.. why do you let it get to you, Alina?”

There was such genuineness in Connor’s voice, Alina didn't have the heart to be mad at him.

“It's... strange, Connor. I cannot explain the origin of these insecurities, they have no rational explanation. But, perhaps, they exist because they are irrational,” she gulped. She knew that she was not really making sense but then again, what did?

Connor was gazing at her intently, head tilted ever so slightly as he tried to understand her.

He inched closer suddenly, turning to face her. He lifted one arm gently, as the skin on his hand faded to reveal the bare plastic beneath.

“If you can't tell me.. show me.”

“Connor I-”, she began but he cut her off.

“Please.”

Who could say no to those eyes? She held his stare as she lifted her own hand. Her hand stopped before his, as she looked at him hesitantly.

Connor let his fingertips brush against hers and Alina could swear electricity crackled between them.

Connor shut his eyes as he scanned through her memory.

This was huge. Alina was letting herself be completely vulnerable with Connor and yet… she didn't feel afraid. Not in the least.

She could feel - if that was the right word- his presence within her, an experience that was so liberating, Alina was almost overcome with all the new emotions that spilled in her.

Seconds later, Connor pulled away, hand dropping to his knee. He stayed awfully quiet for a moment.  

“Alina,” he spoke gently then, and she glanced at him fleetingly. What was he going to say? He probably knew how much she hated herself. Would he hate what he had seen too?

“I may not be able to fully understand the emotions that you feel but I know,” he paused, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “- that you are beautiful.”

Alina couldn't bring herself to look at him. How could she? He was being so kind and yet.. Alina didn't know if she should believe him.

“You may not be like other androids, but it's what makes you, you. You're different, Alina,” he said, lacing his hand through hers.

Alina almost jerked at his touch.

“You're so different and so intriguing,” he said softly. Alina glanced up at him at that. There was something different in the way he was looking at her and Alina felt her thirium pump… flutter. Connor was acting so strange, it confused her.

“Connor what-” she began, but faltered again. She was suddenly incapable of forming sentences. The intensity with which Connor was looking at her wasn't helping either.

“You like roses, am I correct?”

Alina nodded.

“But you also like sunflowers. Why?” he asked, ever so gently. His voice was a soft rasp and Alina would have listened to him speak all day.

“They're both beautiful flowers,” she answered, without hesitation. Now she was genuinely curious. Where was he going with this?

He stayed quiet for a moment, staring into her eyes. She wanted to look away but it was impossible to.

“Then why do you aspire to be a rose when you're a sunflower?” he asked, tilting his head.

Her heart actually missed a beat and a bunch of random errors popped in her brain at his words.

He had called her beautiful and compared her to a sunflower. She had only seen this happen in the movies that the humans made.

“Connor, I-I don't know what to say,” she said quietly, voicing her thoughts. She understood very well what Connor was getting at but it still troubled her greatly. He found her beautiful? Alina?

“You don't have to. I just want you to know, that just because you're different, it doesn't make you any lesser than anyone in this world. You're fairly attractive, you have beautiful eyes and-” he stopped, noticing Alina’s wide eyes.

“I overstepped, didn't I?” Connor said, grimacing and let go of her hand.

Alina regretted it instantly. Had Connor just confessed to her that he found her attractive?

The insecure part of her was screaming “No” and all sorts of ugly things but for once, Alina turned her focus to Connor and Connor only. What the hell was happening?

“Connor d-do you.. feel the same for me... as I do for you?” she asked, hesitant. There was a slight tremor in her voice as if she couldn’t believe her ears. Her Connor? Liked her as well?

Connor looked up at her through his lashes, eyes questioning.

“Every time I'm with you, I feel this surge of energy in my system, these metaphorical sparks at my fingertips- a whirlwind of something in-explainable,” she said so quietly, she wondered if she had said it aloud at all.

And then Connor's voice rang loud and clear inside her head.

“I feel all of that and so much more, Alina.”

Connor didn't spare her a single moment to process his words, before his lips were crashing against hers, frantic and fiery.

Alina knew what kissing was like, her database told her more than she wanted to know about it and yet it felt so strange.

It made her feel like she was floating, the dopamine-a2 and seratonin-a2 in her reaching unprecedented levels. Connor had one hand gently cupping her cheek, and the other clasped around her own, skin once again deactivated. She was completely vulnerable to him once more and there was so much of Connor around her and within her, she thought she was going to combust.

There could not have been a more tender moment between them.

They sat pressed against each other for a while, as the world fell around them.

“Don't ever, let anyone tell you that you aren't beautiful. You are so so beautiful to me,” Connor spoke in her mind, as he continued to nibble at her lips. Alina lost herself in the feel of him against her. 

“I admire you so much, Alina. You are so loving, so kind and so gentle,” he finally said aloud, when they had to break apart. 

Alina gazed up at him through dewy-eyes. 

The way Connor was looking at her right now, the way he had her hand pressed against his chest, made Alina feel as if she really was the most beautiful thing to ever exist.

If Connor could love her as she was, couldn’t she too? All the patients she had worked with ever, flashed in her mind through her boxed memories of them. They had loved her so much. They hadn't cared how much she had weighed. They had told her that when she smiled, she lit up the world.

The universe had it's mix of people. Some didn't agree with her and some did. Some loved her and some didn't. Everyone she had ever met was different than the last.

Your heart is what makes you several times more beautiful, Connor had said. 

There was a lot about the universe Alina had to learn, a lot more she had to discover.

But first, she was going to learn how to love herself for who she was.

a/n: Please, please leave feedback it would mean a lot to me!

[billyharris]

✵ ― Hard Times

I literally was just trying to sleep because I have to function tomorrow and in the middle of my nap, I was awoken by the devil telling me to write this fic right away. And I sort of got carried away. Also shoutout to me. This is my first Eddie-centric fic. I love my dead gay son so much. i’m going to call out @rememberingtozier​ because look !! I wrote fluff, who knew I could ?!?!

Words ;; 1850 ･ﾟ Pairing ;; Richie Tozier / Eddie Kaspbrak  ･ﾟ  Warnings ;; FLUFF BOYS, Strong language, pot smoking mentioned, an overall gay vibe

❝ — Richie had been crashing at Eddie’s the past week or so. The two had yet to really touch on the fact that Wentworth and Maggie had yelled at Richie to leave and never come back . Eddie hated that he had to see Richie like this. So broken and defeated. He felt like he was unwanted, abandoned. He craved attention so much. It explained why he was the front runner for class clown five years in a row. But Eddie and the losers knew the truth behind all the ‘your mom’ jokes and dick puns. He was all but homeless as of a month ago and still made an effort to make his friends laugh. It was incredible. He was incredible.

Eddie shuffled in the bed, Richie snoring alongside him. He turned to face the window, sun rays cutting through the ivory, plastic blinds. Eddie watched Richie sleep for a few moments. Just taking in the view. Eddie had developed feelings for the trashmouth long ago. He rolled his eyes and got mad when Richie cracked jokes, but Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way. And spending the past seven days sharing a tiny twin bed with the boy only made his feelings grow.

When Richie dropped the bomb that he was not welcome back home, there was nothing but chaos. All the losers yelled over one another, shouting different forms of ‘what the fuck ?!’ at Richie. But he was calm. He waved at them, waiting for them to calm down. He didn’t seem phased. It was not like Richie to want to bother his friends. After the chaos settled, Richie explained himself (to a degree). Not fully explaining the logic behind their huge fight.

Stan took the first session. They were best friends after all. Eddie often thought about that. If Rich and Stan were the closest out of the losers, what did that make them ?? He liked to think him and the curly haired boy got along just a much as him and Stanley. But they always seemed to have these moments where neither of them could cross the line from friendship to something more. An invisible wall of awkward preventing them from making progress. What that progress entailed was still unknown to the two of them.

Richie stayed at Stan’s for about a month, all without papa Uris finding out. Andrea snuck extra food to Stan for Richie and it was going fine for a good amount of time. But the jewish holidays came up, and with family coming in and out, Richie had to move on. Eddie was next. Sonia would flip if a homeless kid was squatting in her home. It was for the best if they kept it all under wraps. Richie climbed through Eddie’s window each night and they stayed shacked up like they used to when they were kids. Eddie couldn’t wait for the rustling outside his window. He counted the minutes after school until he arrived.

Eddie’s alarm went off and Richie’s eyes shot open. Eddie quickly turned to smash the snooze button, so not to look like he was just watching his friend sleep for the past ten minutes. His heart was racing. These thoughts for Richie. Thoughts about snuggling him, holding his hand in public, kissing him were not new. But they were sixteen now and a little too old for crushes. What Eddie felt for Richie was far more than that.

“Five more minutes...” Richie moaned, taking the blanket and pulling it over his head.

“You need to shower before school, mister.” Eddie poked at the hump in the comforter, to which a hand came out and slapped away. Eddie just chuckled, grabbing Richie by the shoulders and shaking him. “Wake up, sleepy head !!” Richie moaned again and this one was so groggy and low, coming from the back of the boy’s throat. It made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up. Fuck - it was beautiful sounding and it didn’t help that the noise was coming from a boy in Eddie’s bed. He regained his composure and pulled the covers back, revealing Richie’s speckled back. Since when did he sleep without his shirt on ?? Both tore off their pants before hopping into bed together - that was just normal, because honestly who sleeps with pants on ?? Eddie barely noticed it. He tells himself he barely notices. But the truth was two nights ago, their bare thighs collided in the middle of the night and Eddie nearly had an asthma attack. But this whole sleeping with no shirt on ?? This was very new. New and very alarming.

“Okay! Okay. Eds, I’m awake.” Richie murmured, head stuffed into the pillow. He turned his head to face the shorter boy, gripping the pillow under him, as he yawned. He curled his back up, a disgusting popping noise resonating from the stretch.

Eddie made a disgusted face - as if he wasn’t thinking that Richie’s bare back should be named the new eighth wonder of the world. Richie squinted, rubbing his face before yawning once more. “Ugh, what time is it ??” Richie couldn’t see a thing. Eddie’s room was just a blur of blues.

“Oh - um - seven something -” Eddie squeaked out, having a hard time speaking because Richie was now leaning over him, patting around the end table for his glasses. “You forgot about last night, didn’t you ??”

Richie was out with Bev last night. Eddie could practically smell the weed smell before Richie began giggling outside his window. He would be annoyed, if it weren’t for the fact that Richie was clearly going through a lot and Eddie didn’t want to judge him for coping the only way he knew how. When Ed propped open the window, a wasted Richie tumbled to the floor, a lens from his glasses popping right out and cracking. Richie was way too exhausted to do anything about it right there and then. He started to kick off his pants and buried himself under the covers saying something along the lines of ‘that’s an issue for tomorrow - Eds.’

Richie then picked up the broken frames and sighed, memories clearly re-filling his brain. “Right...Well fuck...” Now Richie was just hovering over Eddie without a care in the world. As if his bare chest wasn’t just there, right in Eddie’s face. It was marvelous in so many ways. The moles and beauty marks that scattered all over his torso, the slight scar he got from jumping off the monkey bars when they were twelve. Even the dumb stick and poke tattoo of the Pythagorean theorem he gave himself on his ribcage while stoned on his birthday four months back. All of it was glorious. Maybe he lingered too long, but could you blame him ?? This was the closest he’s ever been to a near naked Richie in so long. And for sure - not since he started seeing the male form in a - sexual - way. He was just in his boxers and casually sitting on top of him, fiddling with his broken glasses - as if he wasn’t destroying Eddie from the inside out. Then Richie put the glasses back on the end-table, making the effort to lean down again and on his way back up, Eddie and Richie were mere centimeters from kissing. A gasp left the anxiety-stricken boy. “Woah there - Eddie Spaghetti. That was a close one.” He laughed. “No need to stare - I know I can barely see, but I can practically feel you undressing me with your eyes.”

“You’re not wearing any clothes.” Eddie fought back, trying to get the blame off him. Because he was very much staring.

“Yeah. Well.... I was hot last night. Stripped my shirt off...No big deal...”

“You are hot.” Eddie said casually and then the words caught up and he let out a noise that only could be described as a yelp.

“What ?” 

“What ?!” Eddie shadowed, much louder and high pitched.

Then there was this long pause between the two of them. Too long. It was really awkward, Richie couldn’t see Eddie’s panicked stare. He was kicking himself for speaking from his heart. He couldn’t help himself. He was falling for his best friend and you’d have to be as blind as the trashmouth to not see they had chemistry. The fact was the last few years, their friendship seemed to fizzle. Holding hands and pinching cheeks became awkward with age and the two’s puppy love had to be pushed aside. When they were alone, they let some things slip through the guarded cracks, but it still didn’t feel right. Both unsure of one another’s feelings - they were left at this stand-still of cautious touches and concealed feelings. But Eddie had enough. He couldn’t stand watching Richie in udder awe of his beauty and not being able to call him his own. So Eddie, for once in his life - wasn’t afraid. He lifted himself up and grabbed the boy’s cheeks laying a quick kiss to his lips. Richie’s instincts were to reach out and hold up Eddie, both pulling back a slight distance to marvel at each other. 

“You really think I’m hot, Eds ??” Richie joked, but there was a slight lace of serenity there. He had this sweet smile on his features, like he was waiting for this moment as long as Eddie had been. So many people nowadays had been pushing away Richie. He was a burden - having to sneak into his friend’s houses for shelter. He felt like no one wanted him. But Eddie did. And that made the trashmouth feel genuinely happy. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. The truth was he was kicked out of his house over a fight about him coming out. He confined in his mother that he was falling in love with his best friend, Eddie. Thinking the drunk wouldn’t even notice what he was saying or remember. But instead Maggie told Wentworth and sparked an all out Tozier screaming match. A fight that ended in Richie being disowned.

“Maybe a little...” Richie was blushing now - Eds probably too. The two attempting to hide their faces. Not like Rich could see. But then Richie leaned back in, kissing Eddie once more. They deepened their embrace, Eddie reaching up to tangle his fingers in the boy’s beautiful curls.

The alarm blared again. Both boys jumping back to stare at the clock. If they didn’t get ready now, they would miss homeroom. Or at least Richie assumed, because he could in no way make out the numbers. A unison sigh fell from both their lips, when they concluded they would have to cut their moment short. The two both laughed, inaudible from the loud barring of the alarm. But in that moment Richie - leaning over to turn off the alarm, letting his lips collide with Eddie once more - never felt more at home.

notes: I guess I could write a part two if people wanted it ?? I’ve got some ideas ;)