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pips-fics · 3 years

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ask by @writercirrus / @sickiecirrus (be sure to check out her fantastic writing!) : Hi!! My favorite fic is the one where Han gets sick and calls Channie who runs over and helps him. Idk why but I keep rereading. Your stories are always well written!! I’ve never been like LET ME EDIT THIS PLZZZ like I do with most other fanfics!! I do have a request... Channie gets the stomach flu and doesn’t want to be babied or fussed over but finally gives in and lets his members take care of him (idk why but I feel like Channie would be like that)

big thanks to madeline once again for the lovely title! <3 and thank you to cirrus for the kind words and their request, it was a lot of fun to write :D

tw: vomiting, insomnia, overworking

take a rest, hyung –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“you are not allowed to leave your bed today.” minho had taken one look at chan and decided to lay down the law. behind him, felix cackled.

“chan stay in bed challenge!”

chan groaned. that was the thing about these two: he couldn’t say no to either of them. felix because saying no to him felt like bullying a small child; minho because he already knew chan disagreed and clearly did not care. chan tried anyway.

“i’m fine. you’re both just overreacting.”

jisung poked his head through the doorway, looking skeptical. “who’s overreacting?”

hope blossomed in chan’s chest. jisung would understand. “sungie! i just want to work on that one b-side, just for a bit. non strenuous activity, y’know?”

“oh,” jisung said, giving chan a quick once-over. “no.”

“what?”

“yeah, hyung, you look like you’re going to pass out. don’t move.”

it took all of chan’s willpower not to throw something in a fit of rage when jisung came over to check his temperature with the back of his hand. or it would have, except chan did feel slightly like he might pass out, actually. jisung whistled, and chan pretended like his head didn’t feel like it was splitting down the middle.

“he’s pretty warm,” jisung said to minho, who nodded as if he already knew that.

“well he’s been working non-stop recently and hardly sleeping,” hyunjin said from the doorway, quickly catching on to the situation. he took about three strides and crossed the room to press a glass of cool water to chan’s lips. chan sputtered.

“what is wrong with you all? i’m not dying, i can take care of myself.”

hyunjin looked at him skeptically. “you literally can’t, that’s the point i just made.”

rather than respond to that, chan got up and pushed his way through the small crowd that had begun to encircle him. he walked to the kitchen and then, without preamble, vomited into the sink.

after three quick, powerful, and unpleasant expulsion of his stomach contents, chan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and turned to see seungmin starring at him, open mouthed. across the room, jeongin choked on the water he’d been drinking. chan frowned.

“what? i feel better now,” he explained. seungmin’s mouth snapped shut, then opened again.

“what. the fuck.”

chan soon found himself being marched back to his bedroom by the two youngest members of stray kids.

he wasn’t stupid. chan understood that the other boys cared about him, and that they were just trying to help. he knew it would make them feel better, so he resigned himself to allowing their fussing - just temporarily.

chan would admit that the cool towels jisung kept putting on his forehead felt nice, and it was very sweet that the boys ensured someone was with him at all times - to prevent boredom, seungmin said. but then, that was the problem - chan wouldn’t be bored if they would just let him work, but as soon as he took his laptop out, minho confiscated it.

“this is so unfair,” chan complained. minho just smirked at him, seeming to take great pleasure in chan’s annoyance.

“you can thank me later.”

chan grumbled under his breath, but thought smugly that the joke was on minho, in the end. chan had his phone hidden under the covers, so he could work on writing lyrics using that. heck, he could even plug in his AirPods an work on producing with a mobile app, if he really wanted to. chan smiled slightly, feeling clever, and then sprinted to the bathroom.

despite minho’s annoying tough love, there was something soothing about having someone there to brush chan’s sweaty bangs away from his forehead as he emptied his stomach. this time the nausea didn’t pass quite a quickly, or as completely - even after a ten minute camp out filled with productive heaving, chan still felt woozy, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. he hid them in his hoodie pockets as minho guided him back to the bedroom.

things were quieter after that. most of the younger guys were at the studio practicing the dance moves for their upcoming music video, and changbin, who chan hadn’t seen all day, was probably cooped up with jisung trying to pick up the slack from chan’s day off. chan was genuinely exhausted and was tempted to actually rest, but sleep didn’t come easily with guilt hanging over him. no matter how much he told himself it was better in the long run, the knowledge that someone had to do whatever he didn’t have time for was eating chan up inside.

so, after trying and failing to sleep for about ten minutes, chan slid under the covers and got to work on his phone. he tried to be kind to himself, but he wasn’t making much progress even while he was working on stuff.

when changbin barged in and suddenly threw chan’s covers off to snatch his phone out of his hands, chan was less than pleased.

“changbin! what the fuck!”

“hyung, you’re supposed to be sleeping!” changbin said, annoyance lining his voice.

“what, did jisung tell you that?” chan felt angry tears spring to his eyes and quickly wiped them away, but he saw changbin soften.

“of course he did,” changbin said. “he’s so worried about you that he can’t get a single thing done, hyung. so please, just rest? at least let your eyes take a break from your screens?”

in the corner of the room, minho checked his watch - or the place on his wrist where the would’ve been a watch, if he’d owned one. “welp, looks like my shift is up. changbin, babysitting duty is all yours.”

changbin frowned, but took minho’s place silently. chan refused to meet his eyes.

“hyung?”

“just leave me alone, changbin, please.”

it wasn’t anger, but it came off that way. it was shame.

the thought that chan had thrown jisung off, too, and now changbin was here taking care of him - chan hated it. they were all going to get in trouble for slacking at this rate, and it was chan’s fault about three times over. truthfully, chan felt like crying, but that would only make things worse, so instead he pulled out out a notebook. on accident, he met changbin’s disapproving gaze. chan’s voice came out sounding very small.

“bin, please.”

arms crossed, changbin breathed a sigh through his nose. he didn’t say anything, but his eyes slid away from chan and he clear didn’t intend to stop him.

the guilt settled heavier than ever in chan’s already upset stomach, but he hoped making some progress on work would help him feel better. unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. with every minute that passed, chan felt worse. he jotted down some notes, just vague ideas but most of his energy was being expended just trying to keep his stomach contents in place. by the time he admitted to himself that he was fighting a losing battle, chan could hardly move without risking making a mess.

he set his notes aside, and put a trembling hand over his mouth. his attempt to get changbin’s attention was cut off before he could even say “bin,” and it was all chan could do to swallow the sick in his throat back down. he wasn’t entirely successful, but thankfully, changbin had sprung up and handed chan the plastic bowl minho had left by his bedside.

things still weren’t pretty. chan had held the sick in for so long that once he stopped fighting it, it spewed forth with so much force that it splattered the bed - and chan’s notes. changbin scrambled to save them, but chan waved him off.

“throw them out,” he said dejectedly, right before coughing himself into another vomiting spell. at this point, chan was beyond exhausted, and the room wouldn’t stop spinning before his eyes. when he squeezed them shut, he felt even sicker and retched hollowly until changbin forced him to drink some water that chan threw up again almost immediately. chills ran through him so viciously that chan worried he might lose his grip on the bowl, and was relieved when someone else’s hands appeared to keep it steady.

by the time he was done, chan wanted absolutely nothing more than a hug. when he looked up with tears in his eyes, chan found that jeongin was the one holding the bowl and froze.

“are you all back?” it was one thing, he thought, to inconvenience changbin alone - he and changbin had been through thick and thin together, and despite chan’s guilt, he knew changbin would brush this off soon enough. he wasn’t as sure about the other members of his team. “are you okay?” chan asked, on second thought.

jeongin scoffed. “hyung, can you please stop worrying about the rest of us for one second and worry about yourself? or better yet, just let us do the worrying for you, for once.”

chan sniffled, and felt tears prick his eyes. his boys had really matured. the realization took the breath out of him for a second, and the tension went with it. he flopped back onto his pillows and nodded.

“yeah, alright, innie, i’ll give it a go.”

after that, it was a flurry of activity. tasks, apparently, had been delegated by seungmin, so changbin cleaned out the bucket, hyunjin grabbed more water, minho put the blankets in the wash, jisung brought new blankets, jeongin cleaned chan up - and felix was on immediate snuggle duty. as the others finished their tasks, they joined, one by one, until the bed was a pile of the people chan treasured most.

in the end, it was easier than he’d thought, falling asleep surrounded by love.

——

a very quick reader survey (specific to this fic!) to make me smile and celebrate hyunjin <3

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feel free to send more asks! / rules

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xonepeacelovex · 3 years

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hey jisung

Characters: Han Jisung x Reader (Y/N)

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Friends to Enemies to Lovers

Inspired by: Hey Stephen by Taylor Swift

“What kind of romantic proposal you want?” you shamelessly asked the guy walking beside you, glancing at him. Jisung is sporting a blush on his cheeks. He didn’t answer you though on the other hand he’s always quiet so you quite expected this.

But seeing Jisung get flustered is new, “Cute,” you whispered to yourself. As he lowered down his head while you both passed the hallway full of students to your club room. Once you saw the photography club room, you happily hopped towards it like a little kid. It still excites you, having a sanctuary in this chaotic campus. You’re not surprised that no one is there. Hyunjin did say he has a meeting with other club presidents. And the club has three members anyway. You put down your things and get your camera.

“Will you come?” you asked Jisung who just plopped down at the couch of the club room. “No. I’ll do something more important,” he answered. His eyes closed, maybe he’s resting or he must be seriously thinking about the promposal. So you let him and you left to stroll around the campus to look for something worthy to photograph.

“Jisung!” you called out enthusiastically. Jisung automatically rolls his eyes as he heard your voice, putting his phone in his pocket. He has no intention of stopping or acknowledging you. Walking faster than normal so you’ll not be able to keep up with him yet you did. You are panting and full of sweat when you tap his shoulder.

“You’re fast,” you said with a smile. He has no choice but to smile and pretend, “I didn’t notice you there,” he said, avoiding your eyes. “Are you going to the club? Hyunjin said we should stroll around the campus so we can get more pictures to use,” you said somehow reminding him of Hyunjin’s text earlier. He needs to finish the song he’s been composing. He didn’t have the chance to reply to Hyunjin’s text as he tried to avoid you earlier. Jisung didn’t respond to Y/N as they are now passing the hallway.

He feels all the students are looking at them. Whispering things to each other, starting baseless rumors. He felt more anxious. This is exactly what he’s avoiding, being the talk of the town or being under the spotlight. He’s a loner for a reason. He just wants a quiet life.

“What kind of romantic proposal you want?” Y/N asked him.

That Y/N would never let him have. The question alone made him feel embarrassed. What the heck? Someone might hear it.

He has nothing against Y/N, at first. He thought Y/N is a nice person, at first. He didn’t know when his annoyance started. Maybe when Y/N would never leave his side, consistently joining him for lunch, walking with him when he’s alone, and sleeping in the library adjacent to him when he’s reading a book. Or maybe it’s the time when he volunteers Jisung for the beach clean-up or the time he pleaded him to join the photography club so they can be an official club (though it’s a perk that he has a place to rest on the campus, the only reason he agreed) or that time when a rumor of Y/N liking him spread like a wildfire around the campus. So much for a quiet life.

Closing his eyes upon hearing your voice again, “Will you come?” you asked him. “No. I’ll do something more important,” he explained plainly. Hearing the door closing he sighs. Finally, it’s peaceful again.

Hyunjin found Jisung sleeping on the couch with his laptop on. He sighs, you are alone again. He fished out his phone from his pocket and call you immediately.

“Where are you?” Hyunjin on the other line worriedly asked. Are you in trouble, you thought. “I’m still here at the campus,” you hesitantly replied. You heard him sigh, “Okay. Go home already,” he responded before hanging up. Surprised that he didn’t say his usual line “It’s dangerous. Why are you roaming this dark campus alone?”. Are you really in trouble for making him worried again? But what can you do, Jisung is busy enough and since you pleaded with him to join the club you can’t obligate him to do what he doesn’t want. What he’s doing anyway?

Hyunjin was about to wake up Jisung but Jisung is already up the moment Hyunjin called you, overhearing the call. He looked at Jisung, “I’ll not say anything really,” he paused, thinking if it’s worth it. Deciding that enough is enough. “Don’t let Y/N do the job alone,” he spoke. Jisung just stares at him. He can’t even defend himself as what Hyunjin just said is true. He understands Hyunjin's frustration as he has the responsibility to delegate the task between you three.

Hyunjin, if you must say, is like an older brother than a friend. You’re thankful though. He’s the only one who lets you be you without any judgment. Jisung is also like that but just because he’s tolerating you and he has no friends. He’s a loner but he still let you join him so you can’t say he’s a loner when you are with him.

Thinking about your two friends you didn’t notice you are already outside the club room. You are about to knock when you heard Hyunjin talked with anger in his voice. “You being force here doesn’t mean you should let Y/N do it alone. You agreed to join the club. Be professional man,” Hyunjin fumed. “Y/N didn’t say anything though. Why are you overreacting?” Jisung hissed. They are fighting. You are afraid it will be a physical fight but you know both of them. They can’t even hurt a bug. “Because it’s dangerous and Y/N’s alone,” he grunted. “Whatever,” Hyunjin stated when Jisung once again, doesn’t know what to say. You back up and hide immediately when you heard footsteps nearing the door.

You are indeed in trouble.

After Hyunjin left, you sneak to the room to go home already but got surprised when you saw Jisung is still there.

You just smile at him. You plan to quietly get your things and go out quietly.

“You overheard it? Didn’t you?” Jisung questioned you. You shook your head, the way you are smiling and looking at anything but him, gave it away. He walks towards you, which made you look at him in the eyes, you nodded meekly. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I can talk to Hyunjin,” you offered, waiting for his yes or no. “Of course, you can talk to him. He’s your friend,” he sarcastically reminded you. “We are all friends,” you dismissed what he just said, “He’s also your friend,” you assured him. “No. I don’t have friends,” he said, “No friends. So leave me alone,” he emphasized.

Oh. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

After Jisung let out his anger on you, he felt more scared than relieved now that he said what he always wants to say to you. Your shoulders slump as you became quiet. No rebuttal this time, huh? You left without saying anything to him.

For the past few days, he saw you around the campus with Hyunjin but most of the time you are alone.

It’s quiet, Jisung thought as he looks around the library. It should because it’s a place where students study but the silence now was uncomfortable for him. Why? He’s an introvert at heart. He should enjoy this peace he wished for.

the weekend

Coincidence. You believe in coincidences but the man in front of you didn’t. He must be thinking this is as he looks at you with scrutinizing eyes. You gulped, looking at the bar, Chan, and Changbin is still ordering and that left you and Jisung with another minute of complete awkward silence.

When you found him accidentally in the bar you are afraid that he’ll never talk to you and about to say sorry when Chan interrupted you and introduced him and Changbin. He knows you through Jisung. Why? You didn’t know too.

“We’ll perform next so stay put here,” Chan said. You smile while nodding at him. “This has the best view. Trust me, Y/N,” Changbin added, winking at you. You laugh at his charming actions. “Okay,” you said mindlessly. You are about to panic when you are reminded that Jisung wants you to leave him alone. Is it okay to stay and watch him perform? However, Jisung is already walking towards the stage. You didn’t even have the chance to say anything to him. Maybe deny what you think he’s thinking.

This feels like knowing Peter Parker is the friendly neighbor, Spiderman. You found yourself feeling as you are watching the trio, 3Racha as they call themselves, perform. Not only that but they also produce their songs. God has his favorites, isn’t He?

And like the first time, Chan saw you in a supermarket as you are impulsively buying snacks and energy drinks for your all-nighter. You are trying to write lyrics for a music project. A class you just took because there’s nothing left and Jisung is in that class. Now, you are left alone in a project you don’t know how to start as Jisung will choose to be alone in this too.

“What are you doing here?” Chan asked you, surprised as he looked at his wristwatch, “at 3 am?” he continued. You showed him the unhealthy snacks and energy drinks in your basket, “All-nighter,” you answered. “Oh? A project?” he asked curiously. “A music project,” you complained. “Oh! That project,” he laughed. “How do you-“, you are about to ask him when you are reminded Jisung also has the same project.

“How it’s going?” Chan asked, worried about your eyebags or choice of food, you don’t know. “Bad. I’ll fail that class,” you admitted to him. “Changbin and I can help you,” he offered. “Oh no. I don’t want to bother you,” you confessed. “No. You’re not a bother. We also need a break from this one song. I don’t know why we are writing a love story this time,” he admitted. “Really?” you can’t help but be on the verge of crying. “Yeah. And we have so much to ask you,” he assured you. “About what?” you questioned him. “About love,” he said playfully smiling. You look at him quizzically. What do I know about love? Will your obsession with romantic comedy movies will help? You don’t know either but you are willing to help them.

They asked mostly about Jisung more than about love though. But you still happily told them stories about love and Jisung.

Chan and Changbin knew you cause Jisung won’t stop talking about you. You are nothing like what Jisung painted you to be. So, they are amused when they met you and the usual loud Jisung became quiet that day. They wanted to know why the confident Jisung became suddenly nervous that night.

the week after they met at the bar

“Chan will help me with the song,” you said when Jisung stopped you to ask if you needed any help after the class. “Okay. Good for me,” he muttered under his breath, still, you heard it.

He frowned; he doesn’t know what his hyungs are planning but he doesn’t like it already.

You are biting your lower lip as you wait for Jisung to say anything more. When one of your classmates walk to him and asked him to be his pair for the project. You took it as a cue to leave already. He wants to be alone and that makes him mysterious. So yeah, they are people that like him also. You should not worry if he’s alone or not anymore.

that night

Chan invited you again to his studio. “Is this for someone?” you asked them mindlessly, after listening to their song ‘Ex’. “The song’s sad,” you stated. “Changbin just asks me to help him write this,” he defensively answered. “Okay,” you acknowledge, now looking at Changbin, “What? I took your advice and watched a lot of romantic movies,” whining, he pouted in which Chan burst to laugh. “Okay. No need to be defensive both of you,” you joked and they laugh with you. Listening again to the song, headphones on your ear.

“To be honest, it’s kinda romantic,” you confessed, “writing about someone,” you continued. Chan and Changbin looked at each other then at the man in the door. You still didn’t notice Jisung’s presence.

Jisung is wondering why his friends are laughing. He opens the door and saw you in there with his friends.

“But he already wrote a song about you,” Chan hinted. “Who?” you look at Chan then you follow where his eyes are pointing. Jisung is there standing frozen at his spot.

“Jisung,” you said as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Should you leave because he doesn’t want you there? Yet as Chan’s word registered on your mind. “Wait. What?” you glace at Chan and he’s smiling. You also look at Changbin and he’s smiling knowingly. Jisung looks at them with furrowed brows. Oh my gosh. What’s happening?

You look again at Jisung as the silence filled the studio when the song ended. His cheeks becoming red the more you stare at him. This means only one thing, right?

“You did?” startled at what they are trying to say. Jisung writing a song about you. Instead of answering you, he looks at Chan, “Hyung!” he groaned. “As if your feelings for Y/N isn’t obvious enough,” Changbin added. “Come on man,” he complained. You look at him with a smile, “So you did?” you questioned him again. He’s confused as you are so he walks out ignoring your questions.

“Are you sure it’s about me?” you can’t still believe it. “Yes!” Chan and Changbin both affirmed in unison. So you got up and followed Jisung this time, again.

“Hey Jisung!” you shouted, this time instead of walking faster he stopped. Turning around, looking at you with annoyance, “What?” he grunted. You jog up to him but stop, putting a space between you two unlike before where you want to be close to him as possible. “You should have denied it. I don’t want you to be mad with Chan and Changbin,” you expressed.

“Why?” he asked you back. “Why what? I don’t want to cause any problem between you two. You seem mad at them,” you said shrugging. You don’t know really if he’s mad or just embarrassed.

“About the song. Why would I deny it?” he asked you, looking in your eyes. You avoided his stare, “I- I don’t know. Cause it’s not true,” you stare at him, “You hate me,” you confessed. It’s more like a reminder that Jisung hates you.

“I-“ he started, eyes softening. He saw hurt in your eyes. He can’t say it’s not true, that he hates you cause he did. But there’s a fine line between love and hate and he thinks he already jumped on the other side of that line.

“Plus they are beautiful and kind and smart people that like you. I’m just YN,” you reasoned out. Yeah. I’m just Y/N, you thought. You smile at him but that soon faded as awkwardness surrounded both of you. Once again, silence filled the spaces. He’s staring at you, looking for the right words. Maybe to softly reject you and admit that his hyungs are indeed wrong about the song.

His silence means you’re right. “I’ll get going,” you broke the silence, walking away from the man. Softly shaking your head for hoping it means something. He doesn’t like you as a friend so it’s impossible for him to like you as something more than that.

“Hey Y/N!” he called you. You look around, readying yourself for rejection even though you didn’t confess anything, “Hmmm…” you hummed, smiling, waiting for him to say anything. “It’s true,” he paused, the anxiety of waiting for his next words are killing you, “They are beautiful and kind and smart people that like me. But I didn’t write a song about them.”

“Is this your romantic proposal?” you asked with a smile.

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veridium · 4 years

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stolen

Well, friends, what kicks off a weekend better than a College AU update? Titled after one of my favorite songs of all time, and definitely one of the best kinds of love songs to describe Cass and Liv, the dashboard confessional classic. :)

Fall Carnival fun pt. 2 commences now!

last chapter // fic masterpost

There’s walking on glass and eggshells, and then there’s the week Olivia has leading up to the fall carnival. Ellinor deserves a medal of service for dealing with her each and every day, hour by hour, every time something unsettles her anxiety. She had told her everything was fine when they were shoving sushi into their mouths and laughing about fish puns. If only she could hold onto the same kind of half-optimistic, half-resigned sensation she felt then.

It’s not that Cassandra is mean, or even insensitive. Despite Olivia’s incessant ranting and brooding, she can’t really say it’s because of cruelty.

The day after her and Ellinor’s sushi date, she texts to check in. Cassandra replies, answering her questions, and nothing more. Olivia once again restricts herself from prodding, and comes back to her dorm to complain to Ellinor. That night she receives texts from friends insisting that they meet up at the Carnival at some point to take a fall aesthetic selfie. The dread grows.

Then it’s Thursday. To her surprise, Cassandra texts her first.

Cassandra: Hey, will you be around at 12? I have office hours, I thought we could have lunch.

The cup runneth over -- too bad her request collides with a final project meeting, and by God, Liv will not give her team more of an opportunity to disappoint. She was the one who scheduled it, set up the shared Google Doc, and delegated responsibilities. If she ducked out, the whole thing would come apart. So, as much as it makes her want to cut four of her fingers off, she tells Cassandra no. Of course, Cassandra isn’t one to give grief.

Cassandra: No problem, just thought I would offer. Have a good meeting!

Later that night, Olivia takes some initiative. The Carnival is the next day and if Cassandra isn’t feeling it, she would rather go alone or not go at all than try to force it. Cute pictures would never be worth it, and Olivia has grown up experiencing enough cringey, orchestrated “outings” to last a lifetime. She paces the floor of her dorm after sending the text, expecting one of dozens of possible reasons. After all, who wants to endure a Carnival with an ankle boot on?

Apparently, Cassandra does.

Cassandra: Yeah! Cullen and the team have been looking forward to it for weeks. I don’t see why not.

Olivia stares perplexed at her screen. Okay. Okay? Okay. That’s it, then. They’ll go, and it’ll be great. Except it won’t be, because in that split second, she’s already charted in her head all of the awkward and potentially conflictive situations that could happen. What if Cassandra gets there and her mood changes? What if she wants to get on a ride, but can’t because of her injury? What if she loses at a Carnival game and it sets her off? What if someone makes fun of her? What if she trips and falls?

As if by divine providence, she gets a phone call during her spiral. And it’s none other than Theia, finally getting back to her after over a week of radio silence. Olivia doesn’t waste time asking what happened between her and Josie, but Theia doesn’t have much to offer:

“It’s a break. That’s all I can really say,” she says, voice going low while she’s on speaker phone. “It’s a long story. I’d rather not get into it tonight.” There’s a loopy sound, like the swig of a bottle.

Olivia, scrunching her face while she sits on her bed, figures she should change the subject. She tells Theia she needs to vent to someone else besides Ellinor about what is going on with her, and Theia is the only other person who’d understand. The only other person who would be able to provide any insight as to what is upsetting her so viscerally.

When she gets to the bottom of it, Theia doesn’t speak immediately. The quiet pondering scares her, like the ominous stillwater before a gator attack on those Discovery channel shows.

“Liv,” Theia finally says, reluctant like she’s a Doctor about to break some terminal news, “you’re gonna hate me for saying this.”

“What? No!” she disagrees. “Not at all, please, help me out here. I’ve been stewing all week.”

“Well…” she chuckles nervously, “you sound just like you did when I first met you.”

Theia doesn’t have to elaborate. The phrase is code for “a couple years ago,” which comes with its own subtext, one everyone who’s gone through what she has can understand. The phrase has grown from “a few months,” to “last summer,” to “last year,” and now she’s here. Time sucks ass. At least in Theia’s use of it, it doesn’t come with the same feigned accepting grief that Olivia’s Mom has when they’re at “gatherings” with “loved ones” who Olivia hasn’t ever seen before.

Her cheeks go hot and she tosses the phone onto the comforter and looks away, as if she’s eluding the discerning gaze of a close friend. Theia knows better.

“I know you hate me,” she says, vindicated. “But, you know. The fretting, and the worrying about things that haven’t even happened to her. You’re trying to figure out her needs before she even says them. That’s how you sounded every time I’d be on the phone with you during break. You’d just...completely turn everything on for him, then your Mom.”

Olivia criss-crosses her legs, and picks at the tufted fabric of her old pajama bottoms. “Yeah.”

“Hey, you good?” Theia is quick to check, her tone more concerned. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

“Warned me for what?” Olivia smirks and rubs her neck. “Trigger warning: your own damn life?”

“I mean...yeah. That’s kind of how it works.”

“Not always,” she replies, and picks up the phone. “It’s fine, Theia. I appreciate your honesty.”

Theia lets out a discomfited sound. “Maybe you should...I don’t know. Maybe it’d be best to tell her. Unless you think you can figure this out on your own. It’s up to you.”

“Yeah, it is,” Olivia nods, trying to convince herself simultaneously. All this time she’s been so worried about getting to the bottom of Cassandra’s issues, she’s scarcely thought about the consequences of her own. As if only one of them had baggage to bring around. No shit, Olivia owns her own baggage terminal. Silly for her to believe it would just go away if she just cared enough about someone else’s problems. No matter how many times she tried that trick, it never worked.

Her and Theia manage to wrap up their talk on kinder, easier terms. Both of them acknowledge they aren’t in a place to be fully open. Agreeing to be patient with each other, they hang up, and Olivia collapses back on her bed to overthink things while staring off into the ceiling.

This can be a really happy time, if you just let it. She thinks it, over and over, like a song lyric. Just let it.

The next day, Ellinor’s glee and the prospects of fun lighten her up. She puts on one of her favorite dresses, a tea-length button-up dress with short sleeves and a ribbon around the waist. It has a print, blue and white small flowers, and flows at every little move she makes. When Ellinor sees it, she damn-near tips over.

“You’re wearing that?” she asks, slipping her coat on. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Olivia smirks, and the back of her throat stings with nerves. She locks the door to her dorm and then drops them into her black denim jacket. Just a little touch of the normal aesthetic.

“It’s the carnival!” she replies, “gotta dress to the occasion.”

“Hah, well, Cass will probably...hey,” Ellinor tries to say something funny, but seeing the immediate change on Liv’s face, she stops herself. “Everything okay?”

Olivia blinks. “Yeah! Yeah. Just distracted by something. Um,” she checks her phone. No messages. “Let’s hurry, parking will be a nightmare.”

Whatever Ellinor meant to say about Cassandra’s reaction, she was likely spot on: the minute they see each other in their kitchen, it’s like the world freezes. The first time she’s seen her all week, and Cassandra looks just as beautiful as she looks in Olivia’s memory. Black leggings and a knit, sangria-colored sweater with a dress shirt underneath, all neat and fresh looking. They stand facing each other silently while Cullen and Ellinor are off somewhere making various happy noises, giggling and joking.

Olivia feels the strap of her string purse slipping and adjusts, her grip on it atop her shoulder turning deadly. The way Cassandra is acting confirms it: she knows its strange, too, that it’s been this long. But, as she always does, Olivia finds the words.

“Y-ou ready?” she asks, offering a smile.

Cassandra returns it. “Yeah! I just have to go and get my jacket.”

“Oh, you want me to--”

“No, no, don’t worry,” she says kindly, “I’ve got it.” She’s walking easier than she did the first day. Still an uneven sway, but she’s about as fast as she would be without it. She goes and comes back from her room, a fresh new team jacket over her arm. Shit, they must have got their team jackets?

She’s met in the living room with Cullen and Ellinor, who are also ready to take off. And so, with grins and happy laughs from all, they head out.

The entire drive Olivia is trying to walk herself back off the mental ledge. Now that she’s aware of what she’s doing, or at least more aware, it’s almost worse. How can she tell her new girlfriend that she’s lapsing into something that’s taken her 3 years of on-and-off counselors for her to know is even real? When she’s not thinking about that, she’s thinking about how she should have been more honest with her, especially when Cass was raw about her own issues. Then she feels unreasonable for her expectations, and then…

In the middle of it, her gaze wanders to the center console, and then to the left, where Cassandra is seated. She’s sitting there, and then she feels Olivia’s gaze and looks over, and she smiles. She’s smiling, and she’s looking so happy in the sunlight shades changing so fast as the car goes fast downtown.

Hands gathered against her waist like a kid on a school field trip, she grins back.

Next thing she knows they’ve arrived, and Ellinor and Cullen are romping in the parking lot like spring yearlings, egging each other on for donuts or something. They’re so happy it almost rots her teeth. Ellinor tries to stick with the group, and before Olivia can ask her to stay, Cassandra surprises her and waves them off. That’s all the lovebirds need to fly off.

Olivia takes a stiff breath and slips her aviators on. Who would have thought being alone with Cassandra after the week she’s had would be the exact opposite of what she wanted?

“Well, we better catch up, right?” Cassandra smiles again -- she’s smiling so much -- and slides her hands in her jacket pockets.

Olivia looks over, nods, and goes forward. “Yeah! Yeah.”

“Everything okay?” Cassandra asks as she starts walking. “You seem anxious.”

“I...I am, a bit.”

They’re near the entrance when Cassandra stops. Olivia jerks and turns around, immediately admonishing herself. “Am I going too fast? I’m sorry, shi--”

“No,” Cassandra shakes her head. She’s reaching into her pocket. “My wallet is just stuck in the pocket. Give me a sec.”

Oh. That’s...that’s okay. Ok. Everything’s good.

“You don’t have to worry about getting your wallet out,” Olivia says, grabbing her purse. “I got us!”

Cassandra furrows her brow and meets her gaze. “What? You sure? It’s not a big deal, I…”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Olivia puts in the effort for a sweet smile. She already has her wallet out and ready by the time Cassandra gives up grabbing hers.

“Oh, okay then.”

They get in through the ticket stand without trouble. Once they’re in, it’s a marathon for the senses: spices and sugary treats freshly made and slathered lace the air, groups of people in bright autumnal hues exchanging cotton candy and stuffed animals. Music plays low and abundantly on speakers staked throughout, echoing the party of the open dance floor and festival stage somewhere through the fray. Machines and games ring out their sirens, with all the bells and whistles. Far beyond the front is the ferris wheel towering over the rest of the park yard and its sea of striped spotted tent roofs. It’s paradise for a bunch of young hearts with sweet teeth and salty energy levels from a semester nearly concluded.

Olivia and Cassandra walk at a glacial pace. Cassandra looks just as endeared, scanning slowly from side-to-side, a carefree expression on her face. She looks so much more content than the last time Olivia saw her in a celebratory crowd. She’s cooler than cool. They walk beside each other so closely their shoulders bump, and ever so often one glances over and the other smiles in reassurance.

Then, because of course, they are hollered at by familiar faces.

“Cass! Liv!”

Lysette is walking over -- no, sauntering -- complete with what looks to be a giant inflatable hammer under her arm, and an ember-colored soda bottle in the other. She looks like a fabulous lumberjack, flannel, belt, boots and all. And a smug face of victory.

“High Striker champion strikes again?” Cassandra asks with a clever laugh.

Behind Lysette, a man looking like Rylen...or, sounding like Rylen, the way he’s cussing, is taking his turn at the game. Surrounded by several other bros, all chuckling and gesturing towards him as if to give pointers. Pointers he’s definitely not taking.

“Agh, what can I say,” Lysette shrugs, looking over her shoulder. “He’ll be the last to call himself a loser.”

“That’s for sure.” Cassandra tilts her head, brow raised. “He’s lucky I’ve retired.”

Olivia gapes a little at the tall machine. “You played that?”

Lysette laughs and hits Cassandra playfully on the shoulder with her balloon trophy, which Cass brushes off while smirking. “Cass taught me the magic,” she corrects proudly and takes a swig, “it’s from her that I inherited this heavy crown.”

Olivia’s brows lift into outer space as she looks over at her girlfriend, thinking of course she would, and Cassandra looks modestly self-satisfied.

“Eh, well--” Lysette is interrupted by Rylen’s roar. They all turn around and see him, huffing and puffing like the wolf from the three little pigs story, strike hammer in hand.

“Lys, you get your ass ov--h-hey! Liv! Cass!”

Olivia waves a little sheepishly. Cass nods. Lysette takes another glug of her beer. Poor Rylen couldn’t be gesturing toward a more unimpressed crowd of women. But, never one to be discouraged, he struts over swinging the thing like a baseball bat.

“Either of you wanna take me on for the Striker?” he asks it generally, but his eyes stay on Olivia. The petite dancer, of course. Easy target.

“Almost didn’t recognize you in the dress, Liv. C’mon,” he says, holding it out to her. “Take a swing!”

Olivia lets out a cautious laugh, and gently pushes the hammer away. Before she can give an excuse, Cassandra inches closer to her, until their sides are up against each other. It sends an excited chill down her spine.

“Don’t get her caught up in your losing streak, Rylen,” Cassandra defends her.

“Yeah,” Lysette snickers, “no need to pull innocent lives down with you, dude.”

Rylen looks sincerely confused at this disrespect, spreading his arms out wide to puff out his chest. “Ya’ll just don’t want to mess with the hometown glory!”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Olivia giggles, taking the opportunity to slide an arm around Cassandra’s waist. Cassandra is steady and warm. Irresistable.

“We’re going to walk around some more before getting looped into games,” Cassandra says to Lysette, who happily nods and side-steps toward Rylen.

“Come on,” she says, nudging him, “I’m not done with my streak.”

Liberated, Cassandra and Olivia turn to the left and walk on, her arm staying around her and Cassandra sending hers over Olivia’s shoulder. It’s one of the first acts of public affection they’ve done in a place like this. Well, that is, as a definite couple. The milestone is not lost on Liv, who for the first time since waking up in the morning has started to let the anxious “what if’s” slide. Cassandra isn’t dodging her, nor is she ignoring her. She’s here, she’s cheerful, and they’re here, together. The way Olivia’s head fits against the crook of Cassandra’s neck is perfect.

“He was right about one thing,” Cassandra says as they walk down an aisle of stands. “You in a bright blue dress feels like a rarity.”

Olivia smirks and folds some wisps of hair behind her ear. “I live to shock and amaze.”

“That you do. You hungry?”

“Actually, kinda. I was hoping we could go to--”

“--the funnel cake stand?”

Olivia freezes and pulls away just a bit, just to be able to look up at her with eyes wide and mouth open. Cassandra looks back at her, a bit surprised.

“Yes…” Olivia says slowly, “but the only flavor that is valid is…”

Cassandra, catching the hint, chuckles softly. “Strawberry.”

“Agh!” Olivia lays her head back and smiles, leaning into her some more like before. “See, babe, it’s the little things that get me.”

Cassandra’s chuckling continues to bubble as she wraps her arms around her. As she pulls her in, she mumbles a soft caution: “careful, easy on me.”

Olivia is eyes closed and latched onto her like a koala when she hears it, and immediately backs off like they’re suddenly magnet ends.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! Ugh, I forg--”

Cassandra tilts a bit in reaction to the sudden shift of weight, and takes hold of Olivia’s flailing hands before they make her airborne. “Hey! Easy!”

Hands secured and attention obtained, Olivia once again freezes in a state of stress.

“Liv, I’m okay,” Cassandra comforts with confidence. “I’m not a piece of fine china.”

Olivia can feel the embarrassed blush as she relaxes her arms. They stay linked, Cassandra rubbing the back of her hands with her thumbs.

“I...I know that, I so know that,” Olivia repeats, “I’m sorry. I’m s--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Cassandra adds, further dispelling the worry.

“No, yeah. Yeah,” Olivia shakes her head fast, almost dizzying herself if not for Cassandra’s close presence. “Um, listen. Uh, hm…”

Cassandra blinks. “You okay?”

She looks so open, so understanding. Liv could tell her, she could just say it. Or, she could have a bit more mercy for her and not unload all of this on what is supposed to be a good, lighthearted night out. But would it help the stone in her gut, or the noiseless but deafening sensation in her head, between her ears? Will it make the dull but deep sense of dread subside?

“Cass, I…” her voice shakes a bit. Now she’s starting to become overwhelmed by all of the sensory overload and busy energy around them. Her cheeks go from hot to cold.

“Olivia,” Cass says softly, coming closer. There’s a new look in her eyes, one that is least lost and confused. “We should go over to the picnic tables, okay? Just hold onto my hand and follow me.”

Olivia follows the instructions to the letter. After all, it isn’t exactly an unthinkable task holding onto her and letting her take the lead. Cassandra leads them over to where a few picnic tables form a semi-circle facing the venue, all but one taken up by people. It’s as if the last empty one was reserved especially for her unpredictable episode should she need it.

But this isn’t an episode, right? God, she hopes not.

“Have a seat,” Cassandra requests. Olivia, ever the dissenting queer, sits on the edge of the picnic table rather than the bench seats on either side. Her hands clamp on the wood while Cassandra stands in front of her, taking off her prized new jacket.

“W-what are you doing?”

“The thing that happens in every teenage romance film pre-dating 2005,” Cassandra replies. She then loops the jacket up and around Olivia’s shoulders. It’s a size or two bigger than she would wear, which makes it perfect. Olivia’s spine goes straighter than she’s ever been in her life, and she clutches the ends of it against herself like a blanket.

Cassandra rubs up and down Olivia’s arms, slow but vigorous. The athlete is showing. “There.”

Olivia, feeling so sheepish she could be cast as an extra for a Charlotte’s Web remake, stares and rolls her lips shut. She feels better, but if she doesn’t let herself breathe, it’ll all surely get worse.

“Are you in a place to tell me what’s going on, or should I just distract you?”

Olivia’s fast becoming enthralled in just how prepared Cassandra is. If only she could say marveling at her was distracting enough without sounding corny. Yet, she’s asked the million-dollar question: can she say it, or should she? Without thinking, her gaze flashes to either side of Cassandra’s shoulders toward the crowds. Cassandra notices and immediately hooks a finger under Olivia’s chin.

“Olivia, don’t worry about them,” she says and guides her attention back to her. Butterflies.

Olivia parts her lips and lets herself sigh. “I can’t.” She takes hold of her hand and guides it to rest in both of hers in her lap. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Not here. We’re supposed to be having a good time.”

“What we are supposed to be doing doesn’t matter.”

“I know, but, I’m okay. I just need a second. I promise.” She says it honestly. She can enjoy this, if she just gives herself permission to without scolding at every turn for mistakes she had no intention of making. “Just a minute to cool down.”

“Okay.” Cassandra turns and slides onto the table right next to her, for which Olivia gladly scoots over. She lets go of her just so she can hold onto the jacket again. The sun is heading toward the mountains in the distance, but the evening is still far out.

After a moment’s silence -- well, silent as one can get amid a fall carnival -- Olivia takes her first solid breath. The feeling in her throat is cooling down, and the tension in her chest is releasing. Her wandering eyes go across from the horizon to the next tallest thing: the ferris wheel, where it looks like a couple very similar to Ellinor and Cullen are in one of the carts. If only she could see past the obstruction of a giant stuffed animal.

Knowing them, that probably confirms that it is, in fact, them. It makes her snort.

Cassandra picks up on the reappearance of good humor. “Feeling better?”

In return Olivia looks over and gives her perhaps the first real and relaxed smile of the entire day. “Yes, a lot. Thank you.”

Many yards away, near a ring toss stand, two people begin to wave. Olivia zeroes in and sees that one has a beautifully-crafted side-braid of black hair and a fabulous ruffled coat. The other is a less-familiar face, but not a stranger’s.

“Oh, Josie!” Olivia says, and waves back. Josie is holding a smaller stuffed animal, bright pink, looking like a teddy bear. The other person says some words to her, looking like a question.

She looks happy. That’s good.

“Where’s Theia?” Cassandra asks, sticking a pin in the moment without even knowing.

Taking another breath, Olivia leans her shoulder into hers and groans.

“Am I missing something?”

Olivia sighs. “You and me both. I’ll explain later.” Her phone dings from her bag. She looks up and sees Josie and her company gone, only to look down at her phone and have an answer:

Josie: I hope we can link up before either of us leaves and take a pic! You both look adorable!

She hums in speculation, and replies:

Olivia: Yes please!!

With one click and toss, her phone is back in her back, and her sense is back in her head. Ariana Grande’s song “Tattooed Heart” has started to play on the Carnival DJ speakers.

“I love this song,” she smiles, and sways a little to the beat. “How are you feeling?”

Cassandra rolls her shoulders as she leans back a little. “Great, I have no complaints.”

“Really?”

She takes one look at Olivia’s hopeful look and bites the side of her lip. “I mean, I still have my expectations. Firstly, the funnel cake. Secondly, I do want to see you take a swing at the High Striker. Third, I--”

“Oh, what!” Olivia scoffs playfully, “That hammer looks taller than me and about as heavy!”

Cassandra smirks. “With me coaching you, Love, you can’t lose.”

Butterflies, part two. “I...suppose you have a point. But if it’s gonna happen, I’ll need that funnel cake to help hold me down.”

“Deal.”

Love. I like that nickname. Hell, I’d change my name to it, why not?

She hops down with her spirit anew, and helps Cassandra back onto her feet. Just a little help, as a treat, since Cass is right: she isn’t fragile, and Olivia doesn’t have to worry. Watching the people she depends on for strength deal with physical limitations doesn’t always have to be a crisis. It might have been in the past, but the here and now is what matters. And she is allowed to believe that.

They hold hands that gently swing as walk back into the crowds. It goes from feeling like a minefield to that scene in Rapunzel where she and Eugene are frolicking among the city folk. Friendly faces turn and offer smiles and “hello’s,” and they wave back. It’s easy. It’s effortless and thrilling at the same time. The popping and bell sounds are no longer menacing. The heat of the day is no longer suffocating.

And, at last, they find their way to the main event: that beautiful funnel cake truck, with its beautiful plates bigger than her faze of fried dough, strawberries, and whip cream. After dousing it in powdered sugar because, of course you douse it in powdered sugar, she approaches Cassandra with a bit of purposeful mischief.

Smart to the look, Cassandra raises a brow, holding her fork in ready. “You pull anything, Sinclair, and it’s war.”

“Whaaat?” Olivia asks coyly, pinning her own fork between her teeth and smiling. She’s holding the plate in both hands like a holiday pie.

“You know what. Don’t even think about it.”

“I just thought maybe you could do a little taste test a--AAH!” she can’t even get the tagline out before Cassandra strikes the first blow, scooping a dollop of cream onto her fingers and smearing it across Olivia’s nose and cheek. She squeaks in a pitch nearly at Ellinor-level, and stands there, shocked and holding the pie while her fork falls from her mouth onto the plate. Eyes wide, mouth agape, and face whipped.

She can’t believe it. Cassandra, standing there, smug and unable to run. But it’s not like she would, anyway. The woman stands and is judged for her crimes just as she is for her wins.

“I…” Olivia huffs, “Did you just seriously…?”

Cassandra, folding her arms with one hand going to her mouth as she only half-conceals her kind of playful grin, only plays dumb: “What? I have no idea what you are referring to!”

“Is this revenge for the ice cream?”

“I would prefer to call it a preventative measure.”

“Preventative...for what? I was only going to feed you the first bite!”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow. “Sure, Olivia, sure.”

“I was! Dammit, I was being a nice girlfriend! I swear!”

“I suppose we will never know, now,” Cassandra laughs and takes the napkins Olivia has in her hand, the ones she’s forgotten about during this heinous act of assassination. Carefully she unfolds it and hooks her finger under Olivia’s chin like before, only now she tilts it to the side so as to get the prime angle.

“Hold still,” she’s still laughing a little as she wipes off most of the whip cream. Olivia’s eyes are adrift to the floor but she can’t resist glancing. Glancing turns to staring. A brief moment in time where everything is messy, but everything is wonderful. Cassandra looks so thoughtful, so kind.

Such a pity, since she’s in for it.

Striking just as quick, Olivia leans her cheek in and rubs it across Cassandra’s mouth and tip of her nose. Most of the mess is already off her face, but they can still share in the stickiness.

“Ha!” She beams, bouncing back. “Rules of engagement are rules of engagement, Pentaghast!” She grabs her fork and points it at her like a defensive weapon.

Cassandra chuckles and folds the napkin she had in half, looking down at the floor modestly like she knew it was coming. She isn’t mad, though. Far from it. And she definitely isn’t mad when Olivia offers to take the napkin from her and pay her due, cleaning off her face.

“You know, sometimes,” Cassandra says more quietly, as Olivia finishes with one last brush along her chin for good measure, “I...I can be very bad at allowing someone else to take care of me.” The silliness has slipped from her tone.

Olivia goes still, her hand full of scrunched, stained napkin still caressing Cassandra’s jaw. Their eyes meet, and in the hazel hue she can see it. She can see the recognition, the apology for the amount of little things that have become a pile of a bigger thing. She knows. She knew in the kitchen earlier that day, and she knows now. And for some reason Olivia, who has always been team “an apology means saying the words,” this feels like it means something deep. Something trusting and vulnerable.

Something definitely forgivable.

And so, tossing the napkin to the trash a couple feet from where they stand, Olivia grins wide and cuts into the plate of precious funnel cake until she skewers a perfect bite-sized piece of cake, cream, and berries. Then, holding it up for just a few seconds, she then stuffs it into her own mouth. She then holds the plate out to Cassandra, who grasps the plate edge with one hand.

“Don’t worry,” Olivia says with a mouth half-full, “I suck sometimes at letting others care for themselves. Maybe we both need to learn when to just stuff our faces and let things happen.”

Cassandra, looking relieved and with fondness, begins to dig in with her own fork. “You might be onto something, there.”

Though she can never not overthink things, Olivia is happy to think ahead with this one: their edges and sharp points aren’t what they used to be. The intuition she had to just ride the wave and let things play out proved vindicated. It’s uncertainty that isn’t tragic. It’s hopeful. Is this what it feels like, then, to be falling in love?

Bring it on, Hammer Strike.

#college au #modern thedas au #olivia sinclair #college!olivia #ellinor trevelyan #friends fic #chapter update #fic update #CARNIVAL FEELS

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fugaciousgloom · 4 years

Text

Oumeno Week Day 1

Prompt: Holiday

Himiko exhaled deeply, her warm breath visible in the frosty air. She had just finished her Christmas shopping and was waiting for Miu and Kaede to come out of the store. She would wait inside, but Maki, who was standing next to her, refused to enter. It was some sort of perfume and cologne store and she had mentioned smells giving her headaches easily.

The redhead rocked back and forth on her heels, burying her now numb nose inside her fluffy, red scarf. She fiddled with the sides of her coat that she reluctantly left unzipped. Tsumugi had made all the girls Christmas sweaters to wear and Kaede, wanting to keep the cosplayer happy, had them all wear it.

People rushed by, obviously not enjoying the freezing temperature, sending gusts of cold air at the two girls. Snow sprinkled down from the sky, making the city look like a snowglobe come to life.

When Miu and Kaede finally emerged from the shop, the former was ranting about something.

"I can't believe that guy! Like, what do you mean cologne can't be used on robots?!" She rolled her eyes, "Fine! I'll just make my own. Come on killer girl, donkey lips."

Deciding to ignore the rude nickname, Himiko followed behind the group. She couldn't wait to get back to the school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Himiko took a deep breath in as she entered the common area. The aroma of sweets hinting that Kirumi was baking in the kitchen.

Due to her mother having work on Christmas, Himiko was staying at Hope's Peak Academy over the holidays. Most of her friends decided to stay as well, not wanting the mage to be all alone, despite Kokichi staying as well.

Miu haphazardly kicked off her uggs, Kaede quickly picking them up and placing them neatly on the shoe rack, and flopped down on the couch.

"It's too fucking cold out there." She said, rubbing her hands together to warm them up, "My tits are numb!"

Maki grunted, "Relax, I'd rather have cold than boiling hot."

"Oh, let me turn up the heat!" Kaede scrambled to set down the bags she was carrying and rushed towards the thermostat.

Himiko made her way to the kitchen, mostly to see if she could sneak taste the batter or a cookie, only to see Kokichi sitting on the counter. Kirumi seemed invested in her baking, not noticing the redhead's presence.

"Himi! You're back!" He jumped off the counter and bounced over to the mage, "Are you cold? Your nose is all red."

Her nose was usually the first part of her to go red when she gets cold, so it wasn't a surprise the leader had noticed it.

"Nyeh, it's too cold outside." She grumbled, shutting her eyes, "Too many people shopping, I need to recharge my mana."

Suddenly, Kokichi pinched her nose. His hands were warm and burned her cold face in a semi-pleasent way. It made Himiko jump and back into the counter. Kokichi, noticing her vulnerable position, decided now to be a good time to tease her.

He placed his hands either side of her on the counter, leaning in close to her face. The mage's cheeks flared the same colour as her hair.

"I can warm you up~" He smirked. They were so close, their noses almost touched.

"N-nyeh... Kokichi?"

Suddenly, another voice jumped in, "Any closer and I'll slit your throat."

And then another, "Yeah, back off degenerate male!"

Spinning around, the pair saw Maki and Tenko glaring at them. Tenko was in her pajamas, her hands up in a defensive position.

Angie walked up next to her, "What is wrong Tenko? Atua tells me there is a disturbance in here."

"This degenerate has his hands all over Himiko!"

Kokichi raised his eyebrows in mock innocence, "But I'm not touching her, lesbian-chan!"

Tenko's eyes narrowed more, "Why you-"

Shuichi appeared behind them, "Hey, were about to watch a movie. You girls want to join?"

"Atua says that is a great idea! come, come Tenko!"

The artist grabbed Tenko's arm and dragged her towards the common area.

"But, but Himiko-"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Himiko awoke the next morning groggily. She had spent most of yesterday wrapping presents in her room and helping set up for the Christmas party. As a result, she had gone to bed rather late.

Sliding out from under her covers, she immediately noticed how chilly it was. She quickly got dressed and threw a blanket over her shoulders.

Out in the common area, she placed the last of the wrapped gifts under the tree before sitting on the couch. Maki was watching some sort of Hallmark movie, though she seemed uninterested.

The brunette grumbled a good morning as she took a sip of her coffee.

Across the living room, Miu lay sleeping on an armchair. She must have been too tired to walk back to her room.

An hour later, Kaede, Tenko, and Angie came into the room. Both of the former were dressed, and it looked like Kaede had showered, but Angie was in her pajamas and seemed very tired. She clung to Tenko's arm. The artist must have opted to spend the night here as well.

"Good morning everyone!" Kaede greeted, sitting down on the couch next to Maki. She seemed almost too energetic.

Miu woke up suddenly, shooting up from her sleeping position, "Huh? What?" She realized where she was, "Hey, piano bitch, you woke me up!"

Kaede laughed and apologized, "Is everyone ready for the party tonight?"

Maki grunted again, "As ready as I'll ever be."

Tenko pumped a fist in the air, "Even with all the degenerates there, I'm sure it will be the best party happening at the school!"

Angie, not really sure what was happening, smiled sleepily and copied Tenko's gesture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was finally time for the party and Himiko was standing at the door. Kirumi had come early to set out the food and delegated roles to all the girls. The maid stated that as hosts, they all had to contribute to making the guests feel welcome.

Himiko was unfortunate enough to be assigned to greet the guests at the door. It seemed almost too formal, seeing as they were all friends.

Rantaro, Kaito, and Shuichi all arrived together. It wasn't surprising since they were roommates. Shuichi waved at her, "Kokichi said he'd come later." The detective explained, "Something about being fashionably late."

After a while, everyone but Kokichi had arrived, leaving Himiko to wonder where he was.

She was enjoying herself, eating, talking to friends, avoiding the mistletoe Tsumugi had not-so-subtly hung up (Though some were not fortunate enough to escape it.) However, the lacking presence of the purple haired leader was nagging her.

It wasn't until about an hour into the party that the liar showed up. He just casually appeared, inserting himself into whatever conversation Kaito was having.

Huffing, Himiko grabbed Kokichi's arm and dragged him to the side, "Where have you been?"

He chuckled, "Miss me?"

Feeling her cheeks heat up slightly, and knowing she wouldn't get a straight answer out of him, she decided to let it go. Rolling her eyes, she started to walk away, Kokichi following behind her.

She headed towards the kitchen, hoping to grab a brownie (or three) and some eggnog.

Suddenly she felt someone shove her. She stepped to the side and looked up to see Tsumugi looking away like nothing happened.

"Tsumugi." She growled, annoyed that her ploy for sweets had been interrupted.

Himiko felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Kokichi smirking at her and pointing above them. Already knowing what was happening, she looked up. Crap.

I knew there was a reason I wasn't caught under the mistletoe. She thought, She must have been waiting for Kokichi to show up. Tsumugi, you're dead.

The leader cleared his throat, and looked around. Everyone was looking at them.

"Himiko, no!" She heard Tenko screech, running up to them, "Don't kiss that degenerate!"

Himiko's tongue was dry and she couldn't find a way to respond.

Kaede smiled at her, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Nyeh, it's fine." She replied, though her voice shook, "It's just tradition, even if it is a pain, it doesn't mean anything."

Kokichi leaned closer. To avoid embarrassment, Himiko squeezed her eyes shut.

Kaede, not wanting to make the mage any more uncomfortable, convinced everyone to go back to the party. Though she knew some were still catching glances at them.

Just as their lips were about to touch, the redhead placed a hand on his chest, "Wait."

The word was barely a whisper, she couldn't trust herself to say it any louder.

She wanted to kiss him. So bad.

And that's what scared her the most.

The liar pulled back immediately. She saw guilt flash in his eyes for a split second before covering it up with his usual playful demeanor.

"Nishishi, I knew you wouldn't want to kiss me."

"Kokichi, that's not what I-"

Tenko suddenly showed up next to them, "Oh, thank Atua!" She hugged Himiko tightly, "I thought you were actually going to kiss him!"

"Tenko, you're suffocating me."

When the aikido master finally released her, Kokichi had already gone.

#oumeno #oumeno week #oumenoweek #oumeno week 2018 #himiko yumeno #ouma kokichi #oma kokichi #himiko #ouma #oma #kokichi #yumeno #oma x himiko #yumeno x kokichi

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thefreckledone · 7 years

Text

shadow of your heart

a sequel to [falling star]

“Quit that incessant pacing girl. The delegation won’t get here any faster with you paving a path in the carpet,” Tsunade says, smile belying her words.

Sakura pauses, looks around, and flushes, ducking her head. “Sorry shishou,” she says quietly, unable to keep from curling her toes with worry. “It’s just…we haven’t seen each other in years.”

“You exchange letters every week, oftentimes on a daily basis,” Tsunade says, standing from her desk and pulling her anxious student into a warm embrace. “You know each other just fine.”

“But, but—”

“New D-ranked mission for you,” Tsunade says, railroading Sakura’s spiking apprehension. “Join Izumo and Kotetsu at the gate for watch.” She smiles and her eyes are pure wickedness. “The Sunagakure delegation will need a guide.”

Sakura barely has a moment to open her mouth in protest before she finds herself maneuvered outside, staring at Tsunade’s closed and sealed door. Sakura pouts for a moment and crosses her arms. “See if I help you with the Council next week,” she mutters as she meanders her way toward the gate.

Despite her best efforts, Sakura finds her gut begin to churn with a mixture of excitement and fear. She hasn’t felt this way since the Forest of Death and she doesn’t appreciate it in the least. It’s just…they haven’t seen each other face to face in two years. True, they’ve written letters but Sakura finds it a paltry substitute for flesh and bone.

What if he’s changed?

What if she’s changed?

What if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore?

Sakura pushes this thought away, stuffing down into that dark place her mind wanders late at night. It’s the place that questions her worth, her career, her very being. It’s the place that knows how unworthy she is of her friends, that tells her to hide, hide, hide. Sakura swallows back against the bitter taste in her mouth, focusing instead on the last letter she received.

He’s excited to be coming. He wants to see the greenhouse she planted and see the constellations that hang differently over Konoha.

He wants to be here.

“Ah Sakura-chan, here to relieve us?” Kotetsu asks, perking up in his seat.

“Join you, more like,” Sakura replies as she slides into the open seat beside Izumo. “Tsunade-shishou has tasked me with guiding the Suna delegation to the Tower.”

Sakura misses the way Izumo and Kotetsu exchange knowing glances.

“Ah yes, quite the task,” Izumo says in a lilting tone.

“It is a well-hidden building,” Kotetsu says.

Sakura squints at the two of them, trying to figure out their angle. Finally, she shrugs it off, deciding that it really isn’t worth her time. She zones out for a while, watching the tree line move in the breeze as Izumo and Kotetsu’s banter washes over her like white noise. She startles when a flare of chakra pierces her senses. Her eyes snap in the direction of the chakra signature, though no one is in sight.

She knows that signature.

Sakura stands, heedless of Kotetsu and Izumo as she makes her way past the gates, following the beacon that she is certain is just for her. Sakura crests the hill and sees the entourage splayed out before her.

One thing is for certain, Suna knows how to travel in style.

The group is dressed resplendently in long, billowy robes done up in deep, rich tones. At the helm of the group is Temari, moving along in confident, swaggering strides. Behind her though…

Sakura’s breath catches in her chest.

Gaara is swamped by green robes that trail a bit behind him. The Kage hat is tilted precariously upon his head and it is apparent how out of his depth he feels in the trappings and prestige of his newly minted position.

Still, he is Gaara and Sakura cannot contain the smile that breaks across her face.

He looks up and Sakura can breathe again as their eyes connect.

“Sakura,” he says and he is smiling and he is real and suddenly he is right in front of her, the slithering sound of sand telling her how he got to her so quickly. There is something warm and liquid in his eyes as he looks at her and Sakura realizes with a jolt that they are of a height now. He sticks out his hand, determination written on his face. “Hello. It is good to see you.”

The words are practiced, Sakura can tell, yet still so stilted. Sakura feels something squeeze in her chest as she takes in the furrow between his brows and the rigidity of his offered hand.

He is trying so hard for her.

Sakura grabs his hand and shakes it for a moment, smiling so hard that her face aches. She uses her momentum to pull him in for a hug, grunting when her forehead collides with his hat.

Sakura pulls away, still holding his hand and looks at him. Gaara glares up at his hat with such consternation that Sakura cannot keep from giggling. “I’ve missed you,” she says, intending it to sound light. Instead it comes out raw and true and it doesn’t even make sense because they’ve only been face-to-face for two weeks’ time and only a smattering of days spent together as friends. Yet, it is the soul-searing, bone-aching truth. He knows her, perhaps as well as or even better than Ino at this point.

His eyes lighten. “I’ve missed you too. Letters are nice, but I find I like your physical presence more.”

“Smooth, Gaara.”

Sakura nearly jumps out of her skin, dropping Gaara’s hand and looking to the interloper. Kankuro stands before them and the entourage, a smirk lighting his face. Considering that he once feared his brother with good reason, Sakura finds this a massive improvement.

“I apologize,” Sakura says, face warm. “Tsunade-shishou sent me ahead to greet you all and lead you to the Tower. If you’d follow me?”

“So you work for the Hokage?” one of the group asks, who, by the looks of him, must be a council member.

Sakura sketches a slight bow. “I am Haruno Sakura, apprentice to the Fifth Hokage, Senju Tsunade. I sincerely apologize for my unprofessionalism.”

The man regards her with keen interest in a way that makes her uncomfortable.

“It’s fine!” Temari exclaims, effectively deflating the tension as she claps Sakura on the shoulder. “You mentioned leading us to the Tower? Gaara told us that there is a barbeque restaurant in Konoha that you consider a must for any visitor. Any chance you’ll take us by later?”

“Of course,” Sakura replies, thanking Temari with her eyes for the efficient distraction. Truly, Temari would make a wonderful diplomat if she chose that route. “Follow me, please.”

Sakura feels awkward and unwieldy as she guides the train through the gates, finding herself uncertain of how she should walk or how she should move her hands. She certainly feels her age, a mere handful of years, as she guides the prestigious group to the Tower. Her neck and face are warm, but she manages to lead the group into Tsunade’s office.

Tsunade nods at her, indicating that she should take her place behind her. Sakura folds her arms behind her back, listening with half an ear as the proceedings begin. She’s heard it all already, hell, she was part of the drafting and revising of the new treaty. After the disastrous chunin exams, their last treaty was broken and, in the chaos of losing so many people including the Hokage, a new one hadn’t been drafted.

They survived on grace and unspoken rules but now that there is an established Kazekage, it is time to renew their written treaty.

Which leads to today and Gaara’s visit.

Sakura glances over the group, flushing as she meets Gaara’s eyes. His lips quirk up at the corners and Sakura hastily looks away, praying her face isn’t as red as it feels.

As she waits for her face to cool, the talk ceases and Sakura snaps to attention.

“Sakura,” Tsunade says and her voice is full of amusement. “Will you lead the delegates to the ambassador suites? Staff will be able to provide amenities from there. We will reconvene in the morning to begin discussions.” She stands and her eyes are whiskey warm. “I thank you all for traveling so far. This venture is pivotal to the future of both our countries.”

“Thank you, Hokage-sama,” Gaara says. Sakura blinks. His voice is strong and confident in a way she hasn’t yet heard. “I am grateful for your forgiveness of our past follies. Our countries will emerge from this stronger and safer.”

Pride fills Sakura’s chest as the Kages bow to one another, certain that their alliance will come out of this stronger than before. Sakura quietly takes a position by the door and waits as the politicians prance and preen and prattle a bit, knowing it is all part of the game they play.

Sakura is relieved to see a slight furrow between Gaara’s brows. At least he hasn’t changed too much.

When the posturing becomes too much for both Kages, Sakura and Temari begin subtly maneuvering the envoys out the door and Sakura again marvels at Temari’s skills. They manage to make the walk through Konoha without too much hassle, though at the end Sakura is exhausted. Directing councilors is like herding cats, which were aptly chosen as the Uchiha familiar.

“Thank you,” Sakura says, slumping against the post outside the embassy.

“Don’t worry about it,” Temari replies. “I picked up the skill running around on dad’s coattails through the years. He always enjoyed watching me maneuver the councilors. Always said I’d make a good—” She cuts off, expression pained.

Sakura files that bit of information away, knowing that Temari didn’t intend to share that much. “I’m sure you’re in the mood to rest,” Sakura says, graciously avoiding the inadvertent confession. “Were your quarters satisfactory?”

“They were great,” Temari says. “I actually was wondering if you could provide me with some information. I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh?” Sakura replies, taking in the flush on Temari’s cheeks. “Do you have a name?”

“It’s the girl I fought in the chunin exams,” Temari replies, fidgeting slightly. “Tenten, I think?”

Sakura’s eyes go wide. Oh. “Of course,” she says, recovering quickly. “You aren’t planning on demanding a rematch, are you?”

“No, no,” Temari says. “I just wanted to…apologize for my actions during the exam and thank her for what she said…after.” There’s a story there but Sakura doubts she’ll hear it today. “She’s really kind and I wanted to follow up with her.” She looks at Sakura and there’s something vulnerable in her gaze. “Do you think she’ll be angry?”

Sakura thinks on that, on Tenten’s almost unending pool of patience when dealing with her teammates. She smiles. “I think it’ll be fine. Her team trains at Training Ground Eleven. If you hurry you’ll catch them before they break for the evening.”

Temari’s smile is a breathtaking thing as she sweeps Sakura up in a hug before bounding off down the road.

“That was kind.”

Sakura jumps, looking up into Gaara’s expressionless face. She honestly cannot tell if he is happy or upset with her. “Gaara, what’s wrong?”

His lips pull down momentarily before he says, “You still haven’t hugged me.”

Sakura swallows a laugh, instead straightening up and grabbing his hand. “Well I should rectify that then, shouldn’t I?”

She pulls his hat away and wraps her arms around him. He has grown and his shoulder is now the perfect perch for her chin. Something is off, however. Sakura frowns, pulling away slightly. Gaara’s arms hang limply at his sides, though his fingers twitch as if he wishes to return her hug. Sakura grabs his hands and tugs them to rest at her back. She’s sure they look like a pair of fools and damn if she can’t keep grinning like one.

Still, as she sinks back into the hug, she finds it offers a shelter, a haven, she never expected.

“I missed you, Gaara,” Sakura says against his ear.

He stiffens slightly but his breath is warm against the shell of her ear as he says, “I missed you too.”

They stand there for a long time, just basking in each other’s presence. Sakura finally breaks the hug, realizing Gaara will not. “So,” she says, clapping her hands together. “How about we grab some dinner?”

Gaara nods and there is a lost look about him that draws Sakura in She scrutinizes him for a moment. “Actually, it may be smart for you to change first. Don’t want you getting mobbed on your first day here.”

“My sand is more than enough defense for any attack against you or myself,” Gaara says and his expression is thunderous.

“It’s an expression!” Sakura replies. “No one is going to mob you though they may crowd around you because they want to know more about you. People are curious about the Kages. Haven’t you experienced something similar in Suna?”

He shakes his head, still tense and Sakura’s heart breaks anew for him. “Well,” she says, “tonight we’re going to have fun. Grab some dinner, stop by the greenhouse, and watch the stars. Sound good?”

“Amazing,” he replies and his gaze is intent as he stares at her.

“Go get ready,” Sakura says, glad when he turns away so she can press her cold hands to her cheeks.

A few minutes later Gaara returns, dressed in dark attire. The gourd is still firmly attached to his back and, after her offhand comment about mobs, she doubts he’ll part with it all night.

“Have you heard of a place called Ichiraku?”

“Just a little further,” Sakura says, leading Gaara by the hand. “Our greenhouses aren’t as nice as Suna’s. Tsunade-shishou put me in charge of the development. She and Shizune are in charge of the one at the hospital but this one is my personal project.”

“It is wonderful.” His tone brooks no argument.

“You haven’t even seen it yet!” Sakura says through a fit of giggles. She hasn’t felt this light and carefree in quite some time. Gaara brings out the child in her.

“Regardless,” he says, hand curling more firmly around hers.

“Here it is,” Sakura says, tapping her free hand against the door.

Her chakra streams free from her hand in veins along the glass panes. In the moonlight, it appears ethereal. With a soft push, the door to the greenhouse is open and they are submerged in a veritable forest.

Sakura lets go of his hand, moving to groom her bonsai plants, knowing that they are the fussiest of her plants. She works at them as she watches Gaara move through the greenhouse, his face soft and open. There’s something magical between the silence and the full moon bearing down upon them and Sakura doesn’t wish to be the first to break it.

Still, as she finishes tending the bonsais, Sakura sidles up beside Gaara and guides him over to her succulents. “These are the ones you sent me,” Sakura says, voice barely more than a whisper. “They’re crossbreeding magnificently.” She brushes the top of one covered in fuchsia flowers.

“Sakura, have you kissed?”

Sakura jumps, barely feeling the sting as her hand clenches around the cactus. Gaara makes a noise, pulling her hand away from the cactus and meticulously removing the prickles from her hand. Her hand lights with chakra and the cuts fade away.

“W-what’d you ask?” Sakura says, flustered. She sets the cactus down, petting it apologetically.

“Have you kissed?” He is calm and his gaze is steady as he watches her. His expression puckers in confusion. “Kankuro said it is something you do with someone you like.”

“I haven’t kissed,” Sakura replies, glad for the lack of adequate lighting. Her face is hot. “H-have you?”

“I haven’t,” Gaara says. “There is no one I like except you.”

Sakura swallows. “Are you asking to kiss me, Gaara?”

He is silent for a few, painfully long moments. “Yes.” His voice is so quiet, Sakura must lean closer. “Do you wish to kiss me?”

Sakura ponders for a moment, biting at her lip. Does she? Her heart pounds and her hands are clammy. “Yes.” Her voice is equally as quiet and tentative.

Gaara exhales and it rattles free of his chest in such a way that Sakura realizes he has been holding his breath expectantly. Something in her relaxes and she says, “Yes,” once more, confident now.

Sakura moves closer to him, balancing a hand against his shoulder. She cannot really make out his features well in the moonlight but his eyes shine an almost otherworldly green. They lean in at the same time and Sakura can feel his breath on her lips. Her lips part just as they bump foreheads. They pull apart, eyes wide and mouths agape. Sakura isn’t sure which of them starts but they begin to laugh, the nervousness and anxiety fleeing in the face of their humor.

Sakura presses her head into his shoulder, breathless from all the giggles. Sakura catches her breath and stands up straight. Their eyes lock and Sakura finds her breath has fled her once more and her anxiety remains absent as well. This time Gaara leans in, shifting his head slightly, and then his lips are pressed against hers.

It is an interesting sensation. His lips are dry and warm over hers, but something about the kiss feels awkward. Sakura adjusts her head, startled as his lips move pliantly along with hers. A frisson of giddiness travels down her spine as Sakura presses into the kiss, taking her time to enjoy the sensations.

They pull away from each other, breathless and panting as they stare at one another with wide eyes.

“That was…” she begins, before shaking her head.

“Much better than Kankuro described,” Gaara says and his smile is warm and inviting.

They contemplate each other for a moment and Sakura is relieved to find that their relationship isn’t irrevocably altered. He is still her friend. Sakura takes his hand in hers and starts heading for the exit.

“You ready to see the stars?” she asks.

“As long as I’m with you,” he replies as they head out into the night.

#my fic #gaasaku #sabaku no gaara #gaara #Sakura Haruno

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shsl-doubttora-blog · 7 years

Text

Stop Callin Me Valid You Fucks I'm Here To Die | Holly | Trial 4.01

God, Holly felt weird. All she had wanted to do for the last, whatever, week or so? Was sleep. Just lay around and text. To be fair, everyone else was being super weird too, so it wasn't really concerning to her. What was concerning was that stupid rabbit waking her up in the middle of an incredible nap - one that felt like she was floating in heaven - to go investigate some random fucks she didn't really care about.

But you know what? She didn't say anything. Just narrowed her eyes, popped a bubble she’d blown from the stale ass gum she’d found in her bag, and turned away on her heel. This wasn't her problem. So people had died. So what? People died every day. It was the circle of life, or some other pseudo-miraculous bullshit like that. Like, okay, someone wasn't going to be bothering her anymore. Big whoop. It wasn't like death was all that big a deal anyways.

She ignored the physical pains in her chest as she walked off to file her nails in the lobby. Ugh. Probably heartburn from the second class garbage that passed for food around here.

Time flew by until it came time to go to the trial, and Holly got up with a LOT of moaning and groaning about being too important to deal with this shit. Like, honestly. She was the LEADER. The most valuable person around here! She didn't DO, she DELEGATED. except…:she didn't really feel like it. They had it under control, anyways. Really, she was doing them a favor, letting them prove themselves and whatnot. She had better things to do. Like nap.

But what she was coerced into doing was going to the trial. Solely because she would be damned if she would let her good looks be wasted on lazing about, no matter how tempting it was. So she trudged in, scowled half heartedly at her classmates, and proceeded to stare dully in bile fascination at the absolute monstrosity of bizarre and inane actions that made up their fourth trial. In fact, the only thing she said at the beginning of the trial was a calm, snobby snipe at a few people….but considering she hadn't opened her mouth since before the fever started, her words might be a little surprising.

The drawl that comes from the podium that belongs to the water polo player isn't a familiar one. It sounds as if someone’s taken cheerful, friendly, energetic Holly and replaced her with a long lost twin who had spent the last 17 years as a spoiled, upper class snob. The look on her face (perfectly lined with makeup, in direct contrast to Michiko) made it very clear that she was more disgusted and bored by the goings on of the trial than bothered. It was the expression of someone who was upset with the fact that a local coffeeshop had caught on fire, not because a person’s livelihood had been destroyed, but because it really put a dent in her sacred cappuccino morning routine. Her hair was back to its normal blue and blonde highlights, and for someone sick with fever who'd been poor for nearly her entire life, she made a convincing socialite Barbie.

“I have truly never seen such an egregious display of pure buffoonery in my life,” she sniffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. It was getting longer. She wondered exactly how long they’d been here. “Mimi, please do get a hold of yourself immediately. You're being embarrassing.”

Someone voted for Sugoi immediately - as if -, Michiko was apparently determined to give her a migraine with all this shouting, Durarara had up and joined a damned gang, Yuka was wearing God knows what, Sugoi thought he was the king of England, Durarara got knighted by said alleged king after accidentally assaulting him, Durarara then ACTUALLY assaulting him while shrieking like some unholy death monster, Sugoi became a burrito of germs and blanket, and then- oh, God was dead? Lovely. For that particular comment, Holly glared in distaste at a now very sick Chou, apparently more upset by their insult to her religion than she was by the possibility they killed someone. When Masashi piped up, she waved a hand at him as if to say “it isn't worth it, don't get yourself involved with these people”. It was boring, but complaining about it wouldn't make it more interesting.

“Chou, I have to say, I am HIGHLY disappointed.”

She really sounds more irritated than anything, but okay.

“I mean, for goodness sake. Look at you. You've really done it now, haven't you! And doing away with the captain of all people. If you had the ability to get rid of someone as strong as he and I are, I only wish you would have chosen me so that I could be spared this absurdity and any further suffering. I mean, really. I know we don't get along well, but -”

And it's at this point that her annoyance seems to come to a boil, as she suddenly whips her head around to glare daggers at Michiko, while at the same time walking from her own podium to where Chou is.

“Ugh! FINE! I’LL help her, because God knows I'm the only person here who knows what to do! I swear, this entire court is just - so out of control! There's King Fuckface McMoist over there who's just, bleeding, which by the way PLEASE STEM THAT before I - never mind. I'll be over in a moment. Okay? And - Kagome-chan, what the hell are you wearing, you look sloppy. This is no kind of due to the dead. And - Look, Durarara, I am ALL about the wild hair, but like, otherwise, please do try to calm yourself. If my girlfriend were a murderer, I can only hope that I could find the wherewithal to conduct myself with some semblance of decorum.”

And thank god this week hadn't been the week her girlfriend was a murderer, she thought with a suppressed shudder. Wouldn't that have been just mortifying? And in front of all of these people….the horror!

“And, Chou, I don't know what this worthless talk is,” Holly started, looking completely indifferent to the raving going on a foot or two away from her. She was, however, briefly startled by the rather sudden violent action the big bug person inflicted on themself, but instead of taking a step back, she took a step forward. Finally, something akin to concern was on her face.

“W-wait….hey, seriously! You….Jesus, you can't just….let me see that, alright? Whether you felt it or not, I did. And whether or not I have any sense in being worried for your wellbeing, you are still my classmate. For better or for worse. And here I thought that ankle injury of yours was silly-”

Okay, well. At least she's being more of a grumbly but vaguely helpful bitch now instead of just the garden variety. And she's too distracted by trying to convince Chou to let her take care of the injury and reduce any poisoning damage to go on tangents about other people, so it's really a win win.

Thanks for nothing this entire trial, you useless reptile.

#ic #da6t #week4 #schtrial #holly #submission

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