#Forcing myself to finish the next chap of the thing before i post anything else

[digitalmidnight]

[twices-pup]

Hiraeth

title : hiraeth ( minatozaki sana x fem reader )

word count : 1,592 words

genre : angst

warnings : single mention of alcohol

synopsis : hiraeth (n) - a homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or that never was. ( non-idol au )

side note : i didn’t expect myself to post another fic so soon, but the idea for this came to me at like, almost 1 in the morning and i was able to finish it soon after i woke up, so i thought, “hey, why not post this?” things have been a little rough in my personal life lately, so i guess you can say this is sort of a vent fic? so it might be a little messy, and it got longer than i intended it to be, but i hope y’all enjoy my 1 am emo thoughts :)

You hated this city.

You hated that every time you left your house, you're bound to see something that would remind you of her. You hated that the people around you still asked you about her. You hated that she was only a five minute-drive away from you, yet you weren't able to go see her, no matter how much your heart ached for you to.

You hated this city, but this city was where you were born and grew up in, where your family and friends were, where you had met her. This city—with its roads full of traffic, its bustling streets, and its busy people—was all that you ever knew, so you couldn't just up and leave. Even if every street and corner held painful memories of her.

You used to think that this city was your home, but that was until you had met her, during your freshman year of high school. She was charming in her own way, and had a smile so dazzling you nearly mistook it for a ray of sunshine. When she turned to you, and your eyes met for the first time, you knew right then that your life was never going to be the same again. All because of her.

You had remembered reading somewhere that home wasn't necessarily a place; it could also be a person, a pair of arms that you knew you belonged in.

The closer you got with her, the more it felt like you and her were like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together perfectly. Anything and everything she said or did, even something as trivial as putting a hand on your shoulder, was able to fill you with a sense of warmth and comfort. Soon she became all that you thought about, all that you sought for when you felt lost.

Soon she became your home.

Or at least, that was what you thought.

It wasn't long before you two were practically attached by the hip, and everyone who knew either one of you would know that. Where one of you were, the other wouldn't be far behind, and the fact that she lived just a neighborhood away from you helped. It was really easy for the two of you see to each other; at first you thought of it as a convenience, but time threatened to prove you otherwise.

You didn't know what came over you when you had let the words slip past your lips. You weren't drunk, you swore you never had anything to drink prior to the incident that night. So perhaps it was the heat of the moment, just the two of you sitting on top of a hill overlooking the city, and you ended up getting intoxicated by her instead of alcohol. The light pollution was so bad, there was barely a single star visible in the night sky. The view of the city after dark, however, was almost enough to make up for the lack of starlight. It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Hair messy, eyes soft, lips slightly chapped, your jacket draped over her shoulders. No matter how she looked, no matter what she wore, she was never anything less than beautiful in your eyes. Added with the romantic atmosphere, had you lacked self control you would've kissed her then and there.

Thankfully though, you were still able to control your actions. But as your heart raced while you stared at her, it was a lot less easier to control your words.

"I love you."

She diverted her attention from the view to look at you, eyes wide with surprise. A silence enveloped you two once more, one that felt heavier and far less comfortable than the silence before you had uttered those three words. You watched her shift awkwardly, and suddenly you became much more aware of the cold night air biting at the bare skin of your arms and neck. Where had the warmth and comfort gone?

"I love you too, y/n," Sana said carefully. You perked up at her response, feeling a wave of relief and even joy wash over you, but it was short-lived as she continued speaking before you had the chance to interrupt her. "You're my best friend, after all."

You felt your heart sink. Had she really not understood what you meant? Or was she pretending to?

"N-No, Sana," you began, frowning. "That...That's not what I meant. Not just in that way."

To this day, you regretted ever correcting her.

Another silence ensued, this one more agonizing than the last. Your heart was racing, but not in a good way, not in the way she normally made your heart palpitate. Your eyes trained on her every movement, as she avoided your eyes and brought up a hand to rub the back of her neck.

"We...We should head back."

You didn't know what else to say or do, other than agree and walk her back to her house. The walk was, as expected, terribly awkward, neither of you saying anything throughout, and you realized that that was the first time there was any awkwardness between the two of you. You hated the feeling.

Once you reached the front of her house, she turned to you, took your jacket off, and put it on you instead. However, she still refused to meet your eyes that were practically boring holes into her. As she adjusted your jacket, she spoke, ever so softly, "You're my best friend, y/n, you really are. And...And that's all you are to me. Nothing less, nothing more."

Her words were like an arrow through your heart. Not Cupid's arrow, the one that made you feel all lovestruck and giddy, but an actual piercing arrow aimed to kill you. You stared at her blankly, searching her expression for any kind of solace.

She did offer you one, a soft smile, meant to be reassuring and comforting, but you felt neither. "I'm sorry," she continued. "You're an amazing girl y/n, I know you'll be able to find someone else. So I hope this won't change anything between us." She pulled you into a hug, and you wanted to return it had your arms not felt glued to your side, before she pulled away and walked up to her front door. Before she disappeared behind it, she shot you another smile.

Her smile was definitely not telling you that things weren't going to change.

You didn't cry then. You didn't cry on your walk back to your own place. But the second your bedroom door shut behind you, and you were met with your dark, cold bedroom, the world came collapsing down on you. You sank to your floor, and you finally let your tears out.

You didn't see her for the next couple of weeks. You avoided her at school, and refused to hang out with her after school hours. You told yourself that it was what was best for you, some time alone to grieve. But weeks turned into months, yet neither of you dared to talk to one another.

Once you did decide to make the first move, she ignored you as if you weren't right there in front of her, as if you were invisible, as if you didn't exist. She simply brushed past you while talking to a couple of other girls, and she looked...happy. After what had happened between the two of you, she was able to be happy. You could do nothing but watch as she walked further and further away from you.

When you reached your house that day, you received a text on your phone.

"Let's not waste our time fixing something that's already broken"

You felt your heart break for the millionth time since the night of your confession. She had given up on you, on your once seemingly unbreakable friendship. You couldn't blame her, though; she didn't feel the same way you did and there was nothing she could do to force herself to love you back, but even with this knowledge you ghosted her for months, as if she had conducted the biggest sin the world had ever seen. If you were in her shoes, you knew that you'd be exhausted too.

She had given up on you, and you put the blame entirely on yourself.

As you flopped down onto your bed and let your tears flow, you recalled coming across a list of beautiful words from multiple different languages once, beautiful words with even more beautiful meanings. One of them was hiraeth.

Hiraeth.

You finally understood what it meant, how it felt.

She was your home, a home you could never return to, a home that never was.

+ + +

As you drove past her neighborhood on your way to get groceries, you looked out your car window, and saw her. Your houses weren't that far, and the city wasn't that big, so it wasn't your first time coming across her by chance over the years.

But this time she walked down the street, a wide smile plastered on her face and her hand in that of another woman. The other woman was saying something, and it made her laugh. That was the happiest you had ever seen her look.

You took in a deep breath as you turned your head back to keep your eyes on the road ahead, your grip on the steering wheel tightening.

You hated this city, but it was your home. The only one you've ever known, and will ever know.

. . .

please do not repost my work, whether on tumblr or on any other site.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

A Virus for the Vicar

Guess what... I inspired myself with this post to write my first drabble! Also, this had to be written because @gr0ss-enby asked so nicely, and @oh-no-my-hand-slipped had such awesome sickly Victorian prompts. So, here’s ~3000 words of a flu-ridden, regency-era clergyman. 

Feedback welcome! But please be a little gentle. This is my first short fic, as short isn’t usually my jam. But maybe it will be going forward, as I had a lot of fun with this one. 

*****

Lydia Lennox sat darning her husband’s stockings in the sitting room, humming idly as she stitched. She was startled out of her reverie by a commotion on the stairs. It seemed her husband, the vicar, was coming down in a rush. As this was usually the hour he usually closed himself away in his study to prepare his sermon, she was concerned. She rose to see what was the matter, but he appeared in the doorway just then, buttoning his coat with one hand as he held a handkerchief to his streaming nose.

“Mrs. Ames is being buried today. I must go perform the service,” he said with a sniffle. “I shut my eyes but a moment in my study and it seems I fell asleep, and now I am behind my time. I must dash.”

She bit her lip as she looked outside at the chillyA, drenching rain that had been falling for days. She knew he would not be dissuaded from going, despite the dreadful cold he had picked up, so she refrained from voicing her concern. He would only become frustrated if she tried to stop him. After all, burials were part of his duty as a clergyman. 

“Do take care, Mr. Lennox. Come back as quick as you can. I’ll have tea waiting for you.” She forced herself to leave it at that. 

His only reply was a sharp nod and a grunt as he strode to the door. He pulled it quickly open, then shut again, taking himself, hoarse voice and chapped nose and all, out into the downpour.

Lydia seated herself again with a sigh and resumed her mending, spending some time musing about her husband of 5 years. If one were to meet the vicar by chance, or only saw him on Sundays when he preached, that person would think him a stern man, or even a harsh one. It was true that he held himself to the strictest standards as a member of the clergy, and that carried into his interactions with everyone he met. He could be severe and intractable when he was in one of his moods, expecting perfection from himself and everyone else. There were times his eyes burned with such fire when he was preaching that she herself was a little fearful of him.

Yet she also saw the tenderness in every inch of his frame when he baptized an infant, or blessed a child, or took the hand of an elderly person to greet them. She got to witness firsthand his serenity as he tended his garden, his boyishness when he was spending time with his brother, and his gentleness and devotion during their own intimate interactions. 

He often seemed fierce, keeping most people, including herself at times, at arm’s length in deference to his duty as a man of the church, always mindful of how he might be perceived by his parishioners. Yet she knew there was more to him, and she loved him passionately, for all his own fiery passion for righteousness and zeal for his duty. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Some hours later, the door banged open, and the steady patter of water dripping off of a coat onto the floor of the foyer heralded the vicar’s return. That, and a thick, wet sneeze.

“HET’kiihh’shuuh! HET’chooff! “HEHHHT-CHOOO!”

She rang for the tea she had prepared for him, then hurried to his side, blessing him in earnest as she helped him remove his sodden coat. His hair and clothes hung limply on him, and he stood dejectedly, trying to wring himself out, his handkerchief again pressed to his nose. 

“Oh, my dear! Go quickly and put on some dry things. I’ll have your tea brought up to you there. You look half-frozen.”

“That I am,” he croaked wearily. “And half drowned at that. Never saw such a muddy burial. But the good woman is laid to rest as she should be, and that’s what matters.”

“Indeed,” she said, refraining from sighing. “But now go and tend to yourself, for that is what is called for here.”

“As you say,” he grunted. “I’ll be back down in time for supper, but for now I’ll go to my study. I need to catch up on my reading. The whole day is nearly gone as it is.”

“Couldn’t you take some rest? I’m sure the reading could wait another day.”

“There’s no need for it to wait when I can do it now just the same. As I said, I’ll be down for supper.”

He shuffled wearily to the stairs, coughing wetly as he went. 

Once again she bit her tongue and said nothing further. When his mind was made up, there was no arguing with him. So, she went about the usual dinner preparations, fretting the whole time, and all the more so every time she heard him cough or sneeze, which was not infrequently. 

Always true to his word, he reemerged 5 minutes before supper was to be laid out, looking drier but otherwise no better. He shivered faintly in the temperate air, wiping wetness away from his eyes and upper lip. She wished she could go hug him, and offer him any and every comfort she could, for he looked miserable, but she knew he would not allow it. She kept her eyes averted for the most part and tried not to fuss, for he would be quite embarrassed if she did. When the food was laid out, they seated themselves. They bowed their heads and he said grace as he usually did, though his voice was jarringly different. His usually rich, mellow tone was husky and strained, his consonants dulled with congestion and fatigue. Even before the final hoarse “ambend,” she wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze it, and tell him it was fine to not be fine. That he wasn’t any less even though he felt unwell. That she was here for him, no matter what. 

The meal was a quiet one, aside from his stifled sneezes and soft coughs. After one particularly harsh stifle, she timidly looked up at him.

“You sound unwell, my dear. Is there anything I could get for you?”

“No,” he shot back quickly, averting his eyes and stuffing his handkerchief out of sight. “No, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit under the weather is all.”

“Please do let me know if there’s any way I can be of help to you,” she bravely tried once more. He fidgeted with his fork, still turned away.

“You are always a help to me, dear. But I am in need of nothing just now.”

She quickly nodded, then let her own eyes drop to her plate. They ate in silence until they were finished, then retired to the sitting room, he with a book and she with her needlework. This is how they ended their evenings, in companionable silence or quiet conversation until they went to bed. Tonight though, she knew there would be no conversation. They had both perched on the settee, only a few feet apart, and she quenched the urge to close the distance between them and rub his shoulders and neck. He allowed minimal physical contact between them anywhere besides their bedroom. The servants were watching, after all. 

As she sewed, she watched him in her periphery. He looked to be absorbed in his book, but through the entire hour they sat, he did not turn a single page. She studied his profile fondly, if also worriedly: His long longs, stretched out, but limp with weariness, his fine brow, now clammy-looking, his deep eyes, hazy with illness, and his well-shaped nose, the tip of it red and glistening. Every line of him spoke of fatigue. As she watched, she saw his eyelids drooping even as he fought against it.

She knew he would not go to bed before she, no matter how tired and ill he felt. It was improper. So, she feigned fatigue herself, yawning softly and stretching, before announcing she wanted to retire, almost an hour earlier than usual. 

He looked startled, but grateful as he offered to accompany her, and of course she accepted. 

They made their way upstairs, and he seemed to be moving almost in a daze. As they prepared for bed, his fingers were clumsy, and he was hampered by having to tend to his constantly dripping nose. She hovered at his elbow as he went through the motions, silently imploring him to admit how he was feeling and allow her to assist. Of course, he did not.

Once they were both in their night clothes, she watched him as he lingered, sitting on the edge of the bed and blowing his nose. She perched at his side so their knees touched; he shifted his away. 

"You look quite ill, my dear. Pray tell, how can I help you?" She began to gently caress his back, a gesture she knew he loved when he was weary. 

Yet he twitched away from her touch, a flash of anger in his eyes.

"Leave me be! I'm alright. I’m only in need of a good night’s sleep." 

With a huff he yanked back the bed clothes and proceeded to cover himself with them, keeping his back to her whenever he could.

Now she was frustrated too. With a scowl she moved to her own side of the bed. 

"Your stubbornness will be the death of you, Nicholas Lennox. Just because you're miserable, you needn't make me so as well, when I'm only wanting to help. But have it your own way."

He did not reply, and continued to keep his back to her. She turned away from him as well when she lay down. They both held themselves stiffly still, as far apart on the bed as they could be, until they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was not the case when they woke, however. Upon opening her eyes the next morning, Lydia found she had rolled onto her back as she slept. Looking around as she roused herself, she was startled to find her husband still fast asleep beside her. Usually it was his stirring that woke her each day, or the sound of the door shutting behind him as he left.

Nicholas too had shifted in his sleep, and was lying on his stomach, his face toward her, his arm stretched across the center of the bed and resting an inch from her shoulder, as if he was reaching for her.

Any hard feelings that lingered from the night before instantly melted as she watched him sleep. He looked so pitiful and pale, and she heard his breath wheezing in his chest. As she stared, deciding what to do, he suddenly twitched once, then again, then he sprang awake, pressing a hand to his nose, but too late:

"Hehhgg'CHOOOF!" A wet, spraying sneeze exploded out of him, down the front of his shirt. He scrabbled desperately for his handkerchief, his breath hitching for another sneeze as he turned away from her. He couldn't grasp it in time.

"Hih-KIHT-chuuhh! Heht'kih'SHOO!" He sneezed miserably into his elbow, rough sneezes that seemed to scrape his throat harshly as they were expelled. He grabbed his handkerchief at last in a defeated sort of way, and wiped and blew his nose. With a weary groan he fell back against his pillow, throwing an arm over his eyes.

She watched this whole performance with widened eyes. All the years they'd been married, she had never seen him ill like this. She observed him for another moment, then nodded to herself, her mind made up. Regardless of how he would fuss, she was making him rest today, no matter what it took. She opened her mouth to address him when he again jerked forward, breath hitching desperately, handkerchief over his mouth:

"Hiihh'shieww! Hnnxxt'CHUUF! AhKT-CHOOOO! Oh blast it all," he mumbled thickly, the closest he ever came to cursing. He gingerly wiped his poor, red nose, eyes scrunched closed in pain. Yet he would have no rest, for he immediately began to cough. 

 She crossed the distance between them on the bed to put a hand to his shoulder. He jumped in fright, as though he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. Upon seeing it was her, he relaxed slightly, and didn't pull away, but acknowledged her with a little grunt. Encouraged by this, she pressed against his side and began to rub his back tenderly. He groaned softly in pleasure as she did, letting more of his weight rest against her. After a moment he had to hunch forward to stifle another hoarse coughing fit into his arm before leaning back into her touch, rubbing his chest with a grimace.

He was overwarm. She could feel the heat through his shirt. She pressed her palm to his forehead, then his cheek, clucking her tongue softly.

"I am most poorly today. Every inch of me aches or burns. My head pounds so, I can hardly think," he muttered, answering her question before she had to ask it.

"I shouldn't wonder, with how high your fever is. You're not to leave these rooms today and I'll not hear any argument."

"As you say," he mumbled with a cough. 

She wanted to be suspicious of his unexpected pliability, but looking at him, she only saw misery in every feature, so perhaps he was simply feeling badly enough not to complain.

She pressed a kiss to his hot temple. "Lay yourself back down and rest while I dress, then we'll see what we can do for you. We'll ring for tea, for starters." She rose, donning her dressing gown. "And I may have Dr. Barcliffe call 'round as well. I don't like the sound of that cough one bit," she said, as he erupted into another hoarse fit.

"There's no need to involve Dr. Barcliffe," he croaked, lying back down with a wince, rubbing his chest again. "I shouldn't want to be a bother."

"Hm," she murmured, moving to his side. She brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead, and he sighed in pleasure at her touch, his eyes drifting closed. "We'll see how it goes. But I shouldn't think tending to the vicar would be a bother to the doctor."

If he heard, he did not reply, and seemed to fall asleep again immediately. She dressed efficiently, and just as she finished, one of the servants arrived with a tray of tea and toast. The commotion roused the sick man, and he shook himself awake with another bout of hacking coughs as the servant departed. Lydia moved to his side and rubbed his back again. He leaned his head into her side wearily as he quieted.

"Poor man, I've never seen you so ill. It seems you've picked up something nasty--likely from your niece and nephew last week. I thought they were looking a bit peaky, and there you were, rolling around on the floor with them."

A muffled grunt was his only reply. She served his tea, and helped him sit up to drink it, though he tried to protest.

"I'd rather not take tea now. I only want to sleep some more hours yet."

"You must drink aplenty today. You'll only feel worse if you don't. We can't have you getting parched."

He mumbled a few more weak arguments, but when she pressed the streaming cup into his hands, he obediently drank. Of course, the hot beverage made his nose run in earnest, but he seemed too weary to care. She plied him with toast also, but he only managed a few bites, claiming his throat was too raw and painful to eat any more. With a sigh, she set it aside.

He was visibly trembling as he finished the tea, and the hectic red spots showed ever brighter on his cheeks. She assisted him in lying down once more, and covered him warmly, though they were slowed in the process by yet another coughing fit. She let her hand linger on his arm after he was settled.

"Is there anything else you want, my dear?"

He turned to look at her, his fever-hazed eyes imploring:

"Only to rest a while, with you by my side."

She tilted her head in confusion. "You-you're asking me to sit with you while you sleep?"

He nodded. "I'll sleep better if you're near. Would you come sit beside me, just here on the bed?"

"That I will," she complied willingly, flattered as well as flustered. She would never have expected such a request from her independent, private husband. She hopped up to sit beside him, arranging herself comfortably. She reached out to cover his hand with her own. 

"If I could trouble you for one more thing… could I lay my head just there?" He gestured to her lap. 

She reddened. "If you think it would help you sleep, I shan't say no. For you do look so miserable, after all," she managed.

"Nothing would help more." They carefully rearranged themselves to his desired configuration. Lydia was quite taken aback by these developments, though they were far from unpleasant. She studied her husband's still form for a bit, making up her mind as he continued to settle. Haltingly, she moved her hand to his head and began to stroke his hair with the lightest touch. His free hand found hers and gave it a grateful squeeze. Encouraged, she continued her ministrations with confidence.

"You're positively trembling with chills," she murmured, almost to herself. "After you rest a while, I'll have Hannah draw you a hot bath. Then a compress for your chest after a long soak I think. How does that suit you?"

A snore was the only reply she would receive, for the dear vicar was already sound asleep.

[backtothestart02bts]

Just Best Friends - Ch.8 | Preview

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to post any more previews for this story, since I typically update it weekly, if not twice or three times a week, but! Birthdays are always the exception. Since I was lazy and didn’t finish the full chapter today, like I had planned on doing, this is the next best thing. 

A happy, happy birthday to Nora on twitter. I hope you like the first scene of the chap. I shall do my best to write the remaining scenes and post the full chap for you tomorrow. xo

...

The next afternoon when the clock hit 12 o’clock, Iris found herself drumming her fingers on her desk, debating what she was going to do during her lunch hour. Mason had gone out. Linda was eating her little home-packed lunch at her desk, but that wasn’t exactly an invitation for her to go over and attempt a chit-chat either. She could go visit her dad at CCPD or she could visit…

Pulling out her phone from her purse, she immediately texted the person most present on her mind. It was a few minutes before he responded back, not by texting back but by strolling through the front door of CCPN and heading straight for her desk.

“Hey, Iris!” he said cheerfully.

“Hey,” she said, unable to keep the smile from spreading across her face.

“So, you wanted to do lunch?” he asked, hopefully.

She bit her bottom lip as she stood up to approach him.

“Actually, I was hoping for something else that hit a little closer to home.”

His brows furrowed. “Oh?”

She grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him back outside, so they could be a little more private.

“STAR Labs,” she said, as soon as they were out of earshot of passersby.

Barry blinked. “You want me to…give you a tour?”

“No, no, no.” She shook her head, stifling a laugh. “I want to be there when you do your…. you know,” she lowered her voice. “Flash stuff.”

“Oh!” His eyes widened. “I see.”

She frowned. “Unless you don’t…want me there?”

“No, no, no!” he reassured. “It’s not that. Not that at all. I’ve dreamed of the day you’d be on the coms, helping me in the field.”

She got giddy hearing that spill from his mouth.

“’Kay, good.”

“It’s just…unexpected.” He cleared his throat. “But come on.” He held out his hand. “I’ll get you there in a Flash.” He winked.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her butterflies to get them under control. She gave Barry her hand, and within seconds they were inside STAR Labs with Cisco, Caitlin, and Dr. Wells staring at them.

“Hello, Barry…and, and Iris.” Cisco blinked, then turned to glare at Barry. “I didn’t know we were bringing in visitors.”

“Iris isn’t a visitor,” Barry declared. “Not anymore.” He spared a glance at her twinkling eyes. “She’s going to be part of team Flash.”

She practically bounced up onto her toes.

“When I can be,” she clarified. “I do have a job, obviously.”

“As a reporter,” Caitlin stated.

“Right, yes.”

But Barry saw right through Caitlin’s mask.

“She can be trusted, Cait. I wouldn’t bring her in here if she couldn’t.”

“Oh, does that mean Linda can’t be trusted?” Cisco asked, amused.

Iris, for one, was dumbfounded. What did Linda have to do with any of this? She turned to look at Barry.

“What is he talking about, Barry?”

“Nothing! Nothing. He’s talking about nothing.”

Before she could question him further, Dr. Wells wheeled himself towards her and held out his hand to shake hers. Reluctantly, she shook it.

“Hello, Ms. West. I’m happy you’ll be joining us. We were all waiting for the day Barry would finally let you in on his little secret.”

After shaking his hand, Iris looked over at Barry who was avoiding her gaze.

“Yes, so was I.”

“Cisco!” Barry declared, walking over to him. “Any crime activity? Anything that the Flash can help out with?”

“No, not at the-” An alarm suddenly went off. “Then again…”

Caitlin was closer, so she went over to the monitor to see what was the matter.

“Bank robbery on 5th and Oak. Better run, Ba-”

But he was gone before she could finish her sentence. Excitement running through Iris’ veins, she circled around the desk to see what Cisco and Caitlin were looking at.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Right there,” Caitlin said, pointing to a moving dot on the monitor.

“Oh, my God, this is so exciting.” She bounced again. “Get him, Barry.”

“Working on it, Iris,” Barry said back, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cisco and Caitlin shared an amused look.

“There’s a microphone right there,” Cisco pointed out. “He can hear whatever you’re saying.”

“Oh.”

She felt chills race up her spine. Anything?

A million dirty phrases filtered through her mind, and she had to fight to squash each and every one of them. They were in the presence of others after all, and he was not her boyfriend.

“Got ‘em,” Barry said before she could think of anything else. “I’m just going to wait for the police to show up, and then I’ll be back.”

“A job well done. Nice work, Mr. Allen,” Dr. Wells said into his own pair of coms. Then he wheeled himself out of the room.

It was about 10 minutes before Barry returned, but it sent all their hair and papers flying when he did. He was smiling from ear to ear. His eyes were bright and happy. It was contagious, at least for Iris.

Cisco high-fived him on his way in.

“Nice job, Barry,” Caitlin said, and he smiled at her.

Iris was rounding the desk already, and she jumped into his arms, making him hug her tightly. Cisco and Caitlin shared another look but said nothing.

“That was amazing, Barry.” Slowly he set her down, but she still clung to his arms, and he held her close. “So, so cool. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Of course.” He could not stop smiling.

Eventually, he took a step back and changed his clothes in a flash. Before Iris knew it, his Flash suit was hanging up on display on the other side of the room, and Barry was back in the clothes he’d worn when they first arrived.

“Now you want to grab lunch?” he asked, hopeful. “I can flash us to Big Belly Burger, so it won’t take so long.”

Iris giggled infectiously.

“Okay. I mean, if you’re not needed here?”

Barry glanced over at Cisco.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Flash is off-duty…for now.”

“Great!” Barry said cheerfully. “Come on, let’s go.”

He held out his arm for her to loop hers through, which she did, and they practically skipped out of the cortex down the hall.

“Bring us back some food!” Cisco called out, and Caitlin leaned towards him.

“It’ll probably be a while.”

Cisco sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know…”

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Work in Progress Wednesday

Creators: work on or post something from your WIP. This is your weekly reminder to get something down on paper (real or virtual). It’s also a chance to share your progress with your followers and give them a sneak peek of what’s to come!

Fans: leave a comment on an unfinished fic and let the writer know how much you love it. Reblog an artist’s sketch and let them know you can’t wait to see the final product. Send someone an ask cheering them on!

Feel free to repost this image!

 *

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Hello all!  I’ve been feeling...well I’m not too sure honestly.  Writing has been a little weird these last few months weeks so I wanted to use this just as a way to motivate myself a little with what I’ve already come up with and hopefully, it will push me to write/finish some of those WIPs.  Be gentle these are still really rough ... and if I do get around to writing them I might change some stuff around...

There are so many different stories that I’ve started that I might never finish so I wanted them to live somewhere.  

There’s a few ShikaTema, SaiIno and one ChoKarui (also some starts to my Lemonade Series so be aware of titles/notes)

**I’ll update this as new ideas come about.  They will appear first in the post. 

Previews after the cut. 

Knots (Part 3 of “Ties that Bind Series”- ShikaTema, Suna Sibs)

“I’m worried, she’s really sick.”

“Maybe it's like ya know.  That time of the month.”  Kankuro’s voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You idiot.  You absolute moron.”  Temari's voice shot back through the layers of blankets. 

“I think she's okay.”

“Temari, are you okay?”  Gaara asked carefully.  

She nodded her head.  “I’m fine.  Everything is just fine.  Why do you ask?”

“Well you’ve been locked in your room for days now.  You haven’t snapped at anyone or called me stupid.  We’re getting concerned.”

She sighed, taking a deep breath seeing the worry clear in their eyes.

“Shikamaru proposed.”

Their expressions brightened.   “Temari! That’s great, congratulations!”

“We should be celebrating.”  Kankurou stared at his sister curiously.  Gaara was right.  Something was wrong.  “Why isn’t Nara here?”

“I couldn’t say yes.”

Their eyes shot wide open. “Temari?”

“Shikamaru needs to be in Konoha and I couldn’t leave you two and Suna.  Who am I if i’m not Temari of the Desert?”  She knew that she made the right decision.  She couldn’t just leave her brothers and Suna because of something as trivial as love right?  This was the right thing to do.  She assured herself but then why did her heart feel like it was tied up in knots?

*

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Candles (SaiIno-One Shot)

The concept of birthdays had always been foreign to Sai.  He’d never learned the actual date of his birth and never realized that such days were cause for celebration.  So much of his past and the circumstances by which he’d become part of the Root were shrouded in darkness.  The one person that could tell him when his actual birthday was, was dead.

 There were little events that were celebrated in the Foundation.  Completion of missions, not dying on said missions were the two events in which he could remember “celebrating.”  Other than that there was little else that would be cause for celebration.

Once he started becoming more a part of the village he learned early on that birthdays were actually important milestones.  Whether they were small, intimate gatherings of close family and friends or large, elaborate events, birthdays were something to celebrate.  They were time markers and allowed the celebrant to reflect on all their past experiences and look forward to all the wonderful experiences that lie ahead.  Perhaps that was why birthdays were never celebrated.  No one in the Root had a clear memory of their past.  Each mission could be life or death so it was foolish to believe that there was a future to look forward to.  

Still, as he began to settle actual roots, and the path in which he wanted to walk a birthday seemed like an important element to have.  Everyone had a birthday, he deserved one too.  The actual date though was to be determined.  There were few actual dates that held any value so selecting a random one out of the year was difficult.  It also seemed strange to arbitrarily pick a date as well. 

“Ino?  I have a request.”

“Of course Sai, anything.”

“Would you mind sharing your birthday with me?”

“What?”

“I don’t know when my actual birthday is.  Such things weren’t considered important.  One day I’d like to find out but for now if you don’t mind I’d like to share my birthday with you.  It’s not something that we need to announce or even really recognize but I’d like to have a date, a number that I can put down.  I feel like the day I met you I was reborn in a sense.  That my real life started.  I can  understand if you don’t-”

*

**

Stolen (Multi Chap AU ShikaTema ):

Shikamaru watched her closely and saw the shift in her eyes.  Where she’d been terrified initially he noticed a kind of calm and peace.  He released the shadow binds around her wrists but sent more to surround her creating a maze of shadows and lines. 

“Don’t fear the shadows Temari.  Learn to dance amongst them.”

Temari with focused eyes and a determined spirit moved gracefully between the lines.  She landed in pockets of light and moved swiftly before she could become trapped.  He watched on enchanted as she leaped and moved effortlessly avoiding what he threw at her.  It was as though she was floating, gliding in the wind above the darkness.

*

**

Runways (Model AU ShikaTema):

Unrestrained raged swirled in Shikamaru’s normally soft brown eyes as he held Temari’s shaking body.  His glare was heavy on the cowering figure trembling on the floor. 

“My family will bury you.  I will make sure that you never work in this industry again.”

Temari was taken aback by the ice in his voice and all she wanted was for this night to be over and for life to return to normal. “Shikamaru...”  Temari’s voice quivered in a frighteningly unfamiliar way and his protective hold tightened.

“I’m sorry-” 

In spite of himself, Shikamaru laughed off the worthless attempt to quell his anger.  “It’s far too late for apologies.  I suggest that you leave now. That you make it so that no one remembers your name or face because by the time that I’m done you will wish that you never crossed a Nara.”

*

**

Stalemate (Mafia AU, ShikaTema)

Shikamaru’s midnight eyes surveyed the crash of sweaty bodies moving and pulsating to a heavy beat. He took a long drag of his cigarette overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and heavy bass. It wasn’t often that he made the trek out here often depending on his associates to check on their businesses.  His father told him though that it was important for the king to be seen by his people.  

For a while, his family had to operate in the shadows.  That was no longer the case.  The Naras, Akimichis, and Yamanaka’s ruled this area.  Government officials, police officers anyone who had “power” were all on their payroll.  Very few things happened in this city without them knowing.  Everyone knew who they were and they no longer tried to hide it.  

When he was younger he’d complained constantly that this was a drag. He never wanted to become the head of the Nara crime family.  It wasn’t his choice, it was his destiny.  Still, he grew into the role and had accomplished more than they’d ever dreamed. 

He didn’t delight in the benefits of being an infamous crime boss. The club was far too loud. The women who threw themselves at him were too troublesome. 

His eyes continued to scan the room before they fell upon one person his heart began to beat wildly. From where he stood he could tell she was a striking blonde but there was something different.  Something was drawing him towards her.  He studied her for a while.  Becoming increasingly frustrated as she flirted and smiled at the club patrons.  His hands clutched painfully around the balcony railing as he tried to keep his anger in check. 

He called his security detail over.

“The blonde bartender, bring her to my office.”

“Yes sir.” 

*

**

Protective Instincts (Mafia AU, SaiIno, Mafia Princess Ino, Bodyguard Sai *same universe as “Stalemate” ^)

The tension in the back of the SUV was suffocating.  The air heavy, anger rolling off of the man sitting next to her. 

“Sai...I-”  Ino began before being cut off.  

“Don’t, I’m barely holding it together right now.  I just need a minute.”

A beat of silence passed. “Are you mad at me?”  She pouted and despite how angry and upset he was Sai shook his head.  

“No, I could never be mad at you.  I’m mad at your actions and the stupid risks you take but no, never at you.”  

Satisfied with his response and sensing that he was calmer Ino crawled into his lap settling her head against his chest.

He knew that he should push her away.  It wasn’t necessarily appropriate for her to be this familiar with him but she melted so perfectly against him. He felt whole when she was in his arms. 

“I’m sorry Sai, I should have told you.  I just wanted a regular fun, night out.”

“But you’re not a regular person.  You put yourself at risk.”

“Sai, it’s one of our clubs, nothing was going to happen.”

“I can’t take that chance, Princess.  I knew that I shouldn't have taken the night off.  The person on your guard tonight is fucking dead.”

Her eyes widened feeling guilt crash over her.  She still had to learn that her decisions had very real consequences.  “Sai, no.  Please, it’s not his fault.  I snuck out.  I manipulated and orchestrated the whole thing.  Please don’t take it out on him.”

“Ino.”

She forced his gaze to meet hers.  “I’ll deal with my dad if it gets to him. Please.”

“Fuck, fine.  He and I are going to have a talk for sure but that will be all.  I promise.”

Ino sighed in relief knowing that he’d keep his promise.  “Thank you.”

“Why did you take tonight off?  It’s not like you.”

He took a deep breath his fingers pushing back stray hairs away from her eyes.  “I just needed a break, Beautiful.  Clearly, it didn’t last long.  I can’t take my eyes off of you for a second.”

She relaxed into his chest.  “I like your eyes on me.”

*

**

Obscura (NSFW SaiIno- Lemonade Series) -Idea courtesy of @ promptmaker 

Sai grinned as Ino moved into the next pose. She was a natural in front of the camera and seeing that smile always made him happy. 

He’d purchased the camera recently as an attempt to explore a new artistic medium. Especially now that he had memories worth capturing. Ino happily volunteered to be his subject. He was thankful that after this he’d have a whole set of photos of his Light. 

“Great job Beautiful these look incredible.” He complimented her drawing her into a kiss. 

“Thank you, Sai.”  She paused for a minute before her eyes lifted back to his a playful look in those baby blues. 

“I have an idea for a for pictures if you don’t mind.” 

He nodded excitedly about the prospect. He enjoyed any time that they shared together.  “Of course not Beautiful, whatever you’d like.  Let me just adjust these lights.” 

When he turned back around he was surprised to see that she’d removed her top and was now leaning forward her breasts heavy and exposed.  A mischievous smile across her lips.  

“Fuck.”  He breathed.  So she wanted those kinds of pictures.

*

**

Main Course (NSFW ChoKarui- Lemonade Series -Idea courtesy of @ promptmaker

“I made you all your favorite food and this is what you want to do instead.”  Karui teased Chouji her honey eyes glowing with anticipation.  

Chouji grinned as his mouth descended over her delicate neck.  “I think that you’re mistaken Sweetheart.  You are by far my favorite thing to eat.”  She could feel his grin against her skin.  

“Besides, if you didn’t want this to happen you would know better than to make yourself look so appetizing.”  He countered his hands grazing over the skin that the apron left exposed.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin her breathing coming out in short pants.  “Well, perhaps we should have dessert first.”

*

**

So that’s what we’ve got folks.  Actually even just making this post is inspiring me to finish/write!  Are there any that you’re interested in reading?  thank you for getting this far and for supporting me. 

[desperationandgin]

Mending Hearts (Post-Faith canon fic)

Rating: General Audiences

Author: desperationandgin

Also Read On: AO3

Summary:  Jamie and Claire return to Lallybroch and finally discuss what happened in France.

A/N: Today is Fanfiction Authors Appreciation Day and I didn't know how else to say thanks for even making me an author. Without readers there'd be no point to this. You all who take the time to read, comment, and leave kudos mean everything to me <3 One final note: this is strictly based on show canon; I know information was presented to Jamie while in the Bastille in the book, but the show didn't even give us that, so I tried to toss my hat into the ring for what might have happened at Lallybroch. Happy reading!

I couldn’t help my blinding jealousy at the new life I held cradled in my arms. Evey common and bitter refrain played across my mind like a recording I couldn’t shut off.

It isn’t fair.

I should have a newborn.

This should be my daughter in my arms.

My daughter lies buried in France, and each child here is a reminder of the failure to bring my own into the world properly.

I had to excuse myself from the living room, where all had gathered after supper to sit and have a dram while reading aloud from the Bible. (A tradition started by Ellen herself, as a way to get through the most boring part of being God-fearing.) When Jamie half-rose as I stood, I strategically handed the content and sleeping babe in my arms to my husband, then moved out of the room quickly, climbing the stairs to our own private space.

By the time Jamie arrived behind me, I’d removed everything down to my shift, let down my hair, and crawled into bed. I lay tightly curled on my side, back to the door, and prayed he wouldn’t attempt to speak with me.

I should have known better.

First, he sat by the fire, unbuckling his boots and then removing his stockings. For a dozen and a half heartbeats, he stayed sitting, then stood and removed his vest, then his kilt. It was five heartbeats more before I heard him move to my side of the bed. My eyes opened as he kneeled, and while I was expecting a certain amount of gentleness in his expression (and wasn’t disappointed), I didn’t expect the way barely checked tears made the rim of his eyes red.

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?”

I wet my lips — slightly chapped from sitting in the sun too long and not hydrating properly — and went with the truth this time.

“No, I’m not.”

I couldn’t tell if he looked grateful for my honesty or utterly destroyed by it.

“I ken, mo chridhe. I ken ye hurt and there’s no’ a way to fix it.”

My own tears began to blur my vision. “No. There isn’t.” I wet my lips once again as a tear rolled down my cheek. “Our daughter should be here, with us.”

Jamie’s head bowed, and he nodded while looking down at the ground. “Aye. Aye, I wish she were buried here as well. At home.”

I pushed myself upright, staring at him. “I meant alive. Our daughter should be here, in my arms, alive and whole.”

He paled as he realized his mistake. “Forgive me, Sassenach, I didna mean—”

“It’s fine,” I whispered, swallowing heavily and finally breaking my intense stare. “I know that isn’t what you meant.”

Tentatively, he stood and relocated himself to the bed, sitting beside me. “I wish for her to be here every day, Claire. Do ye not know that?”

My heart felt as though it’d grown claws and was attempting to dig its way out of my chest. “Of course I know, Jamie.”

“And do ye ken that I would give anythin’ to change it, to keep her—”

I cut him off this time. “I know.”

“Then why won’t ye speak of her wi’ me?”

His question hung in the air like an over-inflated balloon.

“You’re so angry, Sassenach. But ye willna talk to me.”

Those words were the arrow.

“I’m not angry, I’m…” I sputtered for the words, my frustration at being ineloquent at an inopportune moment making it all the worse. “I would have gladly burned to death from the fever!” When my words came, they were louder than I meant for them to be, and then they continued to spill. “I was alone, Jamie. Our daughter was born already gone, and I was alone. I was dying, terrified, without you.” I’d had Mother Hildegard, the other Sisters, but they weren’t who I’d wanted. “I was given Last Rites, for Christ’s sake, Jamie, and I didn’t—” I broke off, forcing my next words out, even though they felt as though they burned on the way up. “At the very least, I would have been with our daughter again.”

There it was, then. I’d wanted to die and just admitted it to my husband. When I finally found the courage to look at him, he was pale as a sheet, eyes blown wide, and the expression was enough that it brought me back down from an emotional high.

“Jamie?”

He swallowed, eyes focusing a bit before blinking and looking at me. “I didna ken,” he weakly rasped.

“You didn’t know what?”

As soon as the question left my mouth, I realized. He hadn’t known I’d nearly died. He’d known, or at least realized the miscarriage happened, easily enough. But prior to going to the King, prior to realizing I was to blame, after all, I hadn’t bothered to write him, and then he was simply home again and I’d never spoken of it. I’d told him of his daughter when he’d asked, but I hadn’t told him anything about my own situation. As I came to the realization and he tried to process the information, silence hung heavily between us.

“What was—what happened to ye?”

I sighed heavily, not in exasperation, but because I knew what this would do to his heart. Another burden to carry, another failure in his own eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jamie. I’m here. I didn’t die.”

“It matters to me. I need to know, Claire. All of it.”

So I told him. Everything, with the omission of Raymond — only because I still wasn’t sure if he’d truly been there or if I’d hallucinated him; after our encounter in front of the King, I hadn’t seen him again. But everything else, from the way Magnus had held my head in his lap until I passed out in the carriage, to the way Fergus had brushed my hair and slept beside me each night, I told Jamie. By the time I finished, I wasn’t sure he was breathing for how still he was. I didn’t move either, my eyes focused on a point across the room.

Finally, his hand moved to cover mine, and I realized he was shaking. Turning my head to look, the sight of him made my mouth open and close, chin trembling. He was crying, rivers running down his cheeks, and looked the same as he had in the aftermath of the nightmares that used to gut him. He was quiet for several moments before clearing his throat.

“You were alone the day a priest anointed ye to God. I wasna there,” he began, voice breaking as he struggled to continue. “But until a day comes when keeping ye would only bring harm to ye, I swear, I will never let ye be alone again. Where I go, you will go, Sassenach. And where ye need me, ye—” He paused, needing, it seemed, to press a kiss to my knuckles, over my silver ring. “I will never give ye cause to feel alone again.”

There was no need for either of us to apologize for anything beyond this. We’d moved on from whose fault the loss of Faith was and settled on it likely would have happened anyway; miscarriages mean something was wrong. There had to be a reason. Otherwise, it was all God’s fault, and I couldn’t be the one to deliver such a blow to Jamie’s religious beliefs.

Scooting over to make room for him, I carefully laid on my side and Jamie took the invitation to lie beside me. Settling against his chest, I let out a quiet breath and listened to the slow beating of his strong, though battered heart. How much would my husband have to lose in his life?

“I feel as though I’ve let you down.” The whispered confession rose from nowhere, unbidden, a secret that had manifested in my heart weeks ago.

“Ye what, Sassenach?” His voice had a pinched quality to it, as though he were trying to keep his tone in check.

“It’s my body that’s supposed to shield and protect our children until they’re born. I always knew something was wrong with me, Jamie. For the number of times we—I should have been pregnant long before Faith. And now, if I do again, what if—”

He stopped me by sitting up so quickly my head dropped to the mattress, then pulled me up so he could hold my face in his hands.

“Ye just told me that ye nearly died and ye think the only thing that matters to me is whether or not ye can have another bairn?”

I looked at him, able to feel the familiar beginnings of a lump in the back of my throat. My voice grew hoarse with it as I spoke. “You said by the grace of God we might have another. We might not, Jamie. And if we do, I can’t stand the idea of going through this all again.”

“Mo chridhe. Mo chridhe, no. I would never wish to have a bairn over having you. When I saw ye fall, and then I saw the blood, I didna ken if— I knew something bad was happening. It was all I knew. And so, I sat, no’ knowing if ye were alive or if ye’d died.” He pressed a hard kiss to my forehead. “I want a child, Sassenach, but want and need are two verra different things. I need ye to live, do ye understand that? Wi’ out the other half of my heart, I couldna live.”

I wanted desperately to be able to give it to him, all of it.

“You wouldn’t resent me? If I never could give you another?” A living one, this time.

“Ye’ve given me all ye’ll ever need to, Claire, when ye chose me at the stones.”

I looked at him with a broken heart that finally began wanting to piece itself together again.

“I asked you once to come and find me.” I swallowed, searching his eyes with my own. “Will you still?”

Leaning forward until his forehead touched mine, Jamie pressed a kiss to my lips before replying. “I would crawl on my hands and knees through Hell itself to find ye, mo nighean donn.”

When he kissed me, I believed him.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Tommy

Ali: [Let us assume he has gone back to school now and this was a weekend affair] Ali: You forgot your 🕯 Ali: expect it in the post, minus the disappointed note from Ro I've taken out Ali: ✈️ trips not guilt trips, welcome Tommy: leave it in, LOVE to hear what she's gotta say about why I'M the one being a holy show Ali: You aren't respecting the sanctity of her offering, is very much the point and gist Ali: she put more letters to it, as standard Tommy: 'course she did Ali: It does mean a lot to her Ali: but yeah, nice to have my 📅 to myself again, can't lie Tommy: meant so much she fucked off soon as the 🎂 candles were out Ali: You know she isn't the party 'til dawn sort Ali: anyway, they'd be coming in for morning service 😅 Tommy: I know it's her party & she can 😭 if she wants to Ali: If I'd known that was the theme, could've made party bags with 🧅 & 🧻 Ali: well, at least you were in your element 🕺 and you kept Meena and Carly entertained Ali: the hostess not being overly concerned herself, like Tommy: this family's hostess with the mostest has & always will be me, honey Tommy: what else do they teach me at this school, like? Ali: I had no idea you were at finishing school, my apologies Ali: how's things with keeping a man then, Holly Housewife? Tommy: Why stop at strutting with 📚 on our heads when we could do it in 🩰 perfectly en pointe, carrying a sulky ballerina all the while? Basically a Latin motto Tommy: & yet I still can't keep a man, cheers for the reminder Ali: Maybe now you're of age they introduce the final string to your bow Ali: quadruple threat = 🎤🕺🎭🍆 Tommy: 😂🤞🙏 Tommy: stole your girl regardless, tell her to call me when she's slept off the festivities Ali: No doubt she will when she's between the next couple of parties 😜 Ali: your girl is here actually, helping Ro 'organise' her presents Ali: dunno where she parked her 🎃 Tommy: I'll join Fraze in the red corner 😍💋💔🤬🎯👿🥤🤡🥵🛑💘 Tommy: those dolls do go walk abouts if you don't keep a 👀 but obviously she was 🤞🙏 I was still there Ali: He might misconstrue that and come to fight for her honour Ali: 🤞🙏 she's in LDN too, naturally Ali: lots of them are haunted, but that last part of your sentence there is the MOST 😱 ever Ali: it's weird when you approach anything fuck boy like Tommy: miscommunication is his thing™ no hard feels or feelings full stop, 'course 💪🚫😭🚫😍 Tommy: what can I say? being back DOES things to me Tommy: it's all the positive masculine role models this family has Ali: Guess it beats a total lack of @Joseph Ali: though he sent her some book about musical theory so he still manages to be the favourite somehow 🤷 Ali: and hey, dad is the best Tommy: v catty & then cuddly of you, Kit Tommy: he doesn't respond to MY efforts at being a daddy's girl exactly the same way somehow 🤷 Ali: we're both living up to what's expected then 😼 Ali: could just be I'm better at it than you though Ali: if your ego will allow it Tommy: can't let our sister fly that flag alone, like Tommy: as for who's better at kissing the arse of authority figures, don't need to dignify that with an answer 'cause my school report will Tommy: you ain't never been a pleasure to have in class Ali: I might genuinely have to shoot myself if anyone ever said anything so asinine about me so you're right Ali: that would be such a waste of potential, not until I've lead a more scandal-filled existence Tommy: you could respect the hustle Tommy: it's getting me 🩰 perks Tommy: disciplined is the head that wears the 👑 hoe Ali: I know all about discipline, trust me Tommy: we've all read 50 shades, you can't take it as gospel Tommy: Ro could write a better bdsm bibe when she's done at church Tommy: bible* Ali: It's all fun and games 'til I walk in on her flagellating herself Ali: how are we explaining that to the shrinks Tommy: that she misunderstood a more sexy f word? Ali: we don't want to look like we're trying to lock her up for that Ali: way too retro, bro Tommy: She wants to be catholic Tommy: I didn't make the rules Ali: No, then da really would hate you Ali: she's got worse Tommy: Yeah Tommy: I know, no amount of drama from the golden couple could detract Ali: not that I haven't heard enough about that though Ali: guess there's too much to put in a passive-aggressive note Tommy: 🙄🥱😴 Tommy: She wasn't even THAT late & tbh I wouldn't have blamed her for doing a Joe no show Ali: I would've understood if she was upset when she wasn't coming Ali: I am when Joe doesn't, whatever Ali: but I think she was actually MORE upset that she did come in the end, and not just because she was messy, but because Ro thought she wouldn't Ali: I don't get it, they're complicated, always have been but ??? Tommy: she can't hold being a good sister over her, like you can't me being the most fabulous brother in existence 🏆 Tommy: the fuck ups are more fun to bring to a 🥊 Ali: I guess that's more likely than them being all 💕💞 Ali: but fucking hell, does it hurt to hope Tommy: it's hurting you 😿 Tommy: she'll be too hangry to hope Ali: I have no hope or agenda for your 🏆 or 👑 dear brother Ali: but seriously Ali: what does she want Tommy: like you said ???? Tommy: there's every chance I'm bringing too much McKenna magic to the motives & she don't wanna bear a grudge til the end of her days Ali: because it doesn't sound like her at all Ali: if you can't be honest in the DMs where can you, eh, to quote that romcom Ali: fucked if I know what to do about it right now though Ali: maybe I need to sleep off the festivities, or get something to eat Tommy: long as you're not so hysterical you run into the path of an oncoming car, to recall another faithful role of hers Ali: have you adapted that for the stage? Ali: get 5 of you to be the 🚗 Tommy: dibs 'cause I can't do the accent Tommy: not that loads of 'em posh kids can either Ali: they'll have spent enough time gentrifying the east end to have it down, offensively so but all adds to the hysterics Tommy: I'll pitch it then 💡 Tommy: go down better than her 🎤🎵 Ali: better than her when she got hit by the car, like Ali: give me credit or I'll turn up and make a SCENE Tommy: like I wouldn't be LIVING for that Tommy: if we are being honest in the DMS Ali: I'll work on my RICKKAAAAAAAAAAAY Ali: maybe can convince Ro to be Sharon Tommy: hang around your ma in law & you'll ace it in no time Ali: Ha Ali: she'd accept Peggy, not Pat Tommy: fair, Laoise's ma's the one more likely to express herself with big earrings & animal prints Tommy: but I don't know if Sam Mitchell is a favourable role for Carls, what did she ever even do? Ali: Are you trying to tell me it's NOT a look? 🤔 Ali: or that you rate Laoise's mum? Ali: The character, nothing, the OG actress lost her nose so we're all agreed that's a no Tommy: I'd rate seeing her da on the doorstep in nothing but a bow tie for how mortified she'd be when I uploaded it Tommy: Grant's also no, he knocked Martine on her arse way before that car Tommy: but if she's Phil, you're Sharon so that's a yeah from me, like Ali: Don't, her dad always gave me those vibes Ali: and you ain't actually on the street still to have to witness that 🤮 Ali: I don't know how she'll feel about going bald, I'll float it gently before getting out the clippers Tommy: Do Rock's while you're there, he looks feral Tommy: even that nonce wouldn't have him Ali: You know his ears would get chapped Ali: hair is essential or he'll fly away on the breeze Ali: and we'd all be devastated, obvs Tommy: don't start me thinking about that scene in Dumbo, cheers very much Tommy: 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Ali: Such a depressing film Ali: disney gives me bad vibes Tommy: the park is creepy & you won't catch me there Tommy: whether or not Walt was a Nazi it's still a nah from me Ali: Wee bit concerning that emotional manipulation and forced fun trumps facism/literal Nazis for you but we'll 🤐 Ali: ma is in enough of a mood and she'll only direct it at me so nah Tommy: well his racism is disputed depending whether you're in camp 😇 saint him 🙏 or camp cast him into the hellfire 👿 Tommy: the forced fun & emotional manipulation is just facts Ali: 👿 advocate Tommy: I'm gonna go to hell 🤞 he's an ally Ali: 😬 Ali: it's a punishment, not a holiday Tommy: it'll be a grand hol for my pores Tommy: love a sauna sesh Ali: that London smog is not it Ali: how black is your snot? Tommy: as Ro's soul 💀 Ali: Thomas Tommy: Alison Ali: 🛑 it Tommy: she'd 🖤 to hear it but FINE Ali: you're an enabler, it is known Ali: not the kind of encouragement I'm after tah Tommy: enabling you & your lady love to have a good time, yeah 🕺💃 Tommy: & I fully expected her to turn up with a pet raven is all I'm saying Ali: the best was made of it by all, despite it all Ali: even her, in her way Tommy: despite Kayne appearing 🤵🥀 & all in her case Ali: yeah Ali: ugh Ali: he's harmless enough, bless him Tommy: she'd beg to differ right now Tommy: you're gonna wanna hide the 🍄🍄💀 til she calms down Ali: You don't need to tell me Ali: I think he's just really oblivious Ali: like all lads Ali: it wasn't you know...assaulty Tommy: It's not his fault she's team true love's kiss & he AIN'T it Tommy: who could EVER measure up to the 💭💞 Ali: standards, cool Ali: unrealistic expectations, less so Ali: but I can't really advocate for reality at this point in the game Tommy: You don't need to tell me, sis Ali: you're team turn-a-stage-kiss-real, yeah Ali: it's more realistic than fairytales, anyway, look at strictly Tommy: I'm team when's my life been a shitty made for netflix flick never mind a 🐸🤴📖 Tommy: crushing realism ftw Ali: 💔 Ali: If you didn't have a tragic love-life to complain about, you'd be too insufferable 🤴💩 Tommy: comforting Tommy: I'd HATE to morph into Fraze of a few years back Ali: I'll let you know if you start getting freckles Tommy: I'd know if I woke up with those brows Tommy: nowhere to hide, like Ali: 👺 Tommy: 😂 Ali: What are you getting ma for her bday/have you got already (suckup) Tommy: I left it there if you wanna find & shake the 🎁 Ali: Wow, you really didn't wanna pay postage that bad huh Ali: I'll see if I can 🔮 Tommy: with what? I'm skint after buying hers & Ro's Tommy: & it'll be 🎅🎄🎁 before too long Ali: that's what people really mean when they say dance don't pay Ali: gifting an interpretive dance is nothing but pretentious and unwelcome Ali: I can bodge together however many crafts I need and save my dolla Tommy: been there, tried that one Tommy: so much for your so called genius Tommy: ain't even thought of earning any by busting out the 🎅🎄🎵 classics for a busking sesh, works with 🩰 too I'll have you know Ali: 'til you knock over an old lady and have to leg it, like Ali: and if you hadn't noticed, I've been a little busy making a replica Ro, tah Ali: my creative juices are juiced right now Tommy: I'll make it look like part of the show & have the punters eating out of my palm when I catch & twirl any 👵 before they touch ground Tommy: yeah well you've got time from now, fair game on all things yule from Nov 1st Ali: 👌👌 clearly the LDN ones are more receptive because they're vicious 'round here with their 👜s and I'm only trying to give them the tea they ordered Ali: if ANYONE should advocate for Christmas not dragging, like Tommy: it's Irish dancing or fuck all back there, 365 🌧 or ⛅ Tommy: little girls scam every bit of that trade Ali: ironic when it's catch these hands in every other aspect Ali: so you'll fit right in, eh Ali: feel traumatised yet? Tommy: I'll do my best, as ever Ali: 🤴 Ali: meanwhile ma will have to make do with whatever IOU present I can knock up Ali: maybe I'll babysit, that's never not gonna work Tommy: she was on about going out 🍽 wasn't she? Tommy: Carls will never not be down either Ali: get him to make her a cake Ali: sorted Ali: providing he washes his hands...a full hose down may be necessary actually Tommy: she's survived the 🧁 he brings back from school & we've all seen the state of him at day's end Ali: yeah, cheers for the immunity boost little 🦠 Ali: fair, I'm pretty sure we put some weird and wonderful things into our bakes at his age and no one died Ali: Laoise nearly but you know Tommy: close but no 🚬 Tommy: typical of that bitch Ali: sure a 🙏 was said to finish the job at mass Tommy: if you see her ma mascara running in an lbd, I demand to be the first to know Ali: I'll pap her in her time of distress, it's fine Ali: I can hide up trees for HOURS if needs must Tommy: I'm not above piggybacking on the 'tragedy' to get better grades or a hol Tommy: do your part, like Ali: she won't fall for 🍄 again Ali: her brother might if Ro puts 'em in her gob Tommy: 💞 Ali: more of a mood than without Ali: add a little danger Tommy: she'd appreciate the drama more than anything he could ever do Ali: 💔 Tommy: nah, we're not shipping that Tommy: not today Ali: You gotta make some bad decisions before you make the right ones Tommy: a bad decision was the colour of her 👗 Tommy: the last thing that girl needs is a boy right now Ali: Okay you can't come for anyone vis a vis colour, boy Ali: even if I still see it when I close my eyes after however many weeks sewing Ali: but you may have a point re. a boy Ali: just, some socialisation wouldn't hurt Ali: and as far as they go, he's harmless Tommy: 'Course I do, she can barely exist in front of us Tommy: if they went on a date, what's she gonna do, order a glass of water? Ali: like you haven't seen her fake eat a plate of food Ali: it's only noticeable to all us that she's not actually putting any in her mouth Tommy: 🔮✨ Tommy: if he's TRULY harmless he don't deserve to be harmed by her attitude Tommy: which anyone else not bound by family love & loyalty would call something loads harsher Ali: Don't Ali: I feel bad enough for Meena sometimes Tommy: @ Carly too & we all know it Ali: Yeah, Carly can handle it though, she's mostly unphased even if it is a total thing 🙄 Tommy: She's a 👸😇 I doubt Kayne is that pure of ❤️ or intentions tbh Tommy: & Meena can handle anything so Ali: he's deffo a virgin though Ali: which yes, makes for more desperation, but he can't be that forceful if he dunno what he wants, you know Ali: yeah but God knows why she wants to come 'round here and get more of it at times Tommy: No shit, Kit but everyone's seen a porno, it's not the 70s Tommy: dress for it all you like Tommy: maybe she wants to get out of her own 🏡 Ali: everyone also knows it's bullshit Ali: whatever else she's got that much about her Tommy: does he though? Tommy: all I'm saying Ali: either way, it isn't like she's going to have a miraculous change of heart Ali: we all saw how well it went Tommy: Yeah but what if it makes her heart set on finding someone else to play 🤴 Tommy: you'd know better than me what goes on in her head Ali: She's 15, I don't see how any of us can say or do anything to stop her if that's what she does want Tommy: 15 technically Tommy: 🤷 Ali: If we can't make her eat, you know Ali: what hope do we have for anything beyond that Tommy: 0 Tommy: & it's fucked Ali: Yep Ali: but it's not as if that bombshell has only just been dropped, I guess Ali: we'll carry on doing what we can Tommy: 🔮✨ Ali: ✌💚

[parkkate]

Like you mean it 😘

Thank you, @cuppa-tea-eh for that prompt! :) It was so much fun! (and whenever ‘it was fun’ it turns into… well, 3k this time. Whoops!) I also posted it on AO3 if you prefer to read it there… :)

Cho Chang. Cho Chang? Really? Cho. Chang!!

“Draco, are you alright?” Pansy was waving a hand in front of his face, scrutinising him intently. She looked worried.

“Cho Chang,” Draco muttered for the umpteenth time. Pansy sighed, letting her hand drop to her side and leaning away again.

“Yes, Draco, Cho Chang. But she said no. She’s already going with someone else.”

Draco couldn’t help but sneer. Thank Merlin Chang was already going out with Diggory! But Potter seemed to fancy her nonetheless. Draco had caught him staring at the Ravenclaw in the Great Hall several times. It made him want to dump his porridge on Potter’s head.

When he saw Potter the next day, he noticed how tense his shoulders looked, how he was walking with his head bowed. Draco would have liked nothing more than to go over there and end Potter’s misery. There were only a few minor problems. Draco had a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t just walk over there and ask him to the Yule Ball. Besides, Potter didn’t even like him.

The more Draco thought about the impossibility of ever being with the stupid Gryffindor, the angrier he got. As he watched Potter cross the courtyard, he acted on impulse. He scooped up a handful of snow and threw it with as much force as he could. It hit Potter right in the back of his head.

“Ow!” He whirled around and narrowed his eyes when he saw Draco sneering at him.

“Potter!” Draco didn’t even have to force his voice to sound gleeful, it was an automatism. “Could you be any more pathetic?” He approached Potter with a smart pace, flashing his ‘Potter stinks’ badge before he came to a halt in front of him. “How does it feel, Potter, to realise you’re not everybody’s darling?” He cackled scornfully, jutting his chin forward. “The Boy Who Lived… can’t even find a date for the Yule Ball.”

Potter glowered at him and Draco felt almost embarrassed about how much he was enjoying it.

“Oh, because everybody is begging you to go with them?” Potter said in a mocking tone. Draco straightened himself, attempting to look as superior as possible.

“Unlike you, I get to pick and choose amongst my devoted admirers.”

Draco scowled when Potter snorted.

“Right. The one devoted admirer being Pansy Parkinson. And you call me pathetic.”

Draco struggled to keep his composure. But he wouldn’t let Potter win.

“Should I build you a snowwoman, so you won’t end up alone after all? At least she’d have as much charisma as you.”

“Don’t bother, Malfoy,” Potter said gruffly. “Worry about yourself. I bet you can’t find someone other than Pansy who’d want to go with you.”

Draco felt his cheeks burn up. He didn’t want to go with Pansy but had already made his peace with it, seeing as the person he really wanted to go with wasn’t an option.

“I already told you, I have lots of choices,” Draco fumed. It was an outright lie and he suspected Potter knew it. The Gryffindor crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Draco a speculative glance.

“Alright, let’s make a bet then.”

Draco pressed his lips together to keep himself from gaping. He squared his shoulders and forced himself to smirk.

“Sure. But if- I mean when I turn up with my date, who won’t be Pansy, you’ll kneel in front of me and kiss my hand.” Draco chuckled inwardly.

“What? I won’t be kneeling-”

“Scared you’ll lose, Potter?” Draco said tauntingly. Potter gritted his teeth.

“Fine! Since you seem to be so sure of yourself, I’ll make it easy for you. If I win, you’ll kiss your date in front of everyone! Like you mean it.”

Draco bit his lip. Potter wasn’t playing fair. He knew Pansy had a thing for Draco and she would kill him if he went to the ball with somebody else and kissed them right in front of her. But he couldn’t back down now.

“You’ve got yourself a bet, Potter,” he growled and stalked off to the Slytherin common room. What had he gotten himself into? This was bound to end badly. He knew it from the second he had agreed to this stupid bet and was proven right again when he talked to Pansy.

“What do you mean, you can’t go to the ball with me?” she screeched. Draco sighed.

“I made a bet with Potter,” he said, plopping down in an armchair.

“And that bet excludes me as your date?” She was probably going to start throwing things any second now.

“It does,” Draco replied. “Just ask Blaise or something.” It was obviously the wrong thing to say. Pansy’s face was red and blotchy, her nostrils were flared and her eyes look murderous.

“I will kill Potter for this,” she yelled and stormed off into her dorm. Draco let his head fall back and tried not to think about how Pansy would react if he actually had to kiss someone in front of her. Like you mean it. Potter’s words echoed in his head. That would be a tough sell. The only person he could imagine kissing in earnest was the one he’d had to beat in this stupid bet.

Draco looked around the Great Hall and wrinkled his nose. Finding a date to the Yule Ball had turned out harder than he had anticipated. Every single person he had asked was already taken, or at least they said they were, and time was running out fast. The stupid ball was tomorrow. His only consolation was that Potter didn’t seem to have had much luck either.

He didn’t know why he did it, what idiocy drove him to provoke Potter further, but when Potions class was over, he strode over to the Gryffindor and casually leaned his hip against his desk.

“Time’s almost up, Potter. We can do a test run if you like, to familiarise your knees to being bent.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger and Weasley blinking at him.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Potter said, standing up. “You on the other hand should probably take better care of these.” Without warning, Potter’s thumb was brushing Draco’s lower lip. “They look a bit chapped. Wouldn’t want your date to cut themselves on your lip.”

Draco could only watch Potter and his friends, who were still gaping at Draco, leave the classroom while he stood there, dumbfounded and rooted to the spot. His heart was about to jump out his chest and his legs felt like he had been hit with the Jelly-Legs-Jinx.

He was still slightly swaying when he found Blaise in the library.

“Got a date yet?” he asked, putting down his quill. Draco groaned.

“No. And Potter is driving me insane!”

“Honestly, you should just ask him to be your date and be done with it,” Blaise suggested.

“You’re very helpful,” Draco barked.

“Seriously, Draco, I swear to Salazar, if you don’t do anything about it and I have to endure you talking about him every waking minute until we finish school, I will throw myself into the Great Lake.”

“You know very well I can’t do anything about it,” Draco huffed. “And I do not talk about him that much.”

Blaise gave him an exasperated look and sighed.

“Why do you even like him?”

Draco frowned.

“How should I know? I just… do.”

Shaking his head, Blaise took his quill and stuffed it into his bag.

“I know it’s not your fault,” he began, rolling up his parchment. “We can’t choose who we fall for, but this is getting out of hand.”

Draco said nothing to that and simply followed Blaise out of the library. He was so lost in thought, he didn’t see the black hair that was peeking out from behind the shelves.

When Draco made his way to breakfast the next day, he was in a foul mood. He couldn’t lose to Potter; he just couldn’t. But it seemed like he would.

Before he could enter the Great Hall, someone suddenly blocked his way.

“Malfoy!” It was Potter. “So… which one of your lucky admirers will be accompanying you tonight?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Draco lied. “There is much to be… considered.”

“Like what?” Potter asked, shuffling his feet. He was also playing with the hem of his robes.

“Potter, you can’t expect me to go with just anyone,” Draco drawled. “I have standards.” The Gryffindor rolled his eyes.

“Right. So, she has to be rich, a Pureblood-”

“I never said it has to be a ‘she’,” Draco blurted. Potter nodded, not taking his eyes off Draco. “It just… can’t be anyone.” Draco was so distracted by the green eyes that were piercing him. It made him feel hot and cold at the same time.

“What exactly is required to meet your standards then?”

“Um…” Draco felt like an idiot. Potter was probably disgusted with him.

“Does the person you fancy meet your standards?”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat. Why was Potter asking these questions?

“Who said I fancied anyone?” Draco countered, trying to keep his countenance.

“So… you don’t?” Potter was shuffling his feet again. It was irritating.

“I- I-” He should have just said it was none of his business. But, somehow, he found himself unable to. After all, it was very much Potter’s business, even if he didn’t know it. “There is someone, yes. And they do meet my standards. Most of the time. They seem to be… a bit thick.” Too thick to notice how much I like them.

Potter nodded again and gave him another once-over before he turned away.

“Let’s meet here at 7:30 then,” he said, already halfway to the Gryffindor table. Draco stared after him. “Oh, and my robes are green by the way. I’m sure you wouldn’t want our colours to clash.”

Draco felt like somebody had just pulled the rug out from under his feet. This had to be a dream, a joke, or a cruel mind game. There was no way in hell Harry Potter had just asked him to the Yule Ball.

Luckily, it was a Saturday, so Draco could overanalyze his conversation with Potter without being interrupted by having to go to class. By the time he was back in his dorm, he was shaking.

Potter was probably just making fun of him, trying to make a fool out of him. What if Draco turned up tonight without a date, waiting for Potter, just to find Potter had tricked him? But what if Draco managed to find a last-minute escort and Potter had been serious about going together? What would he do then?

Draco threw himself on his bed and groaned. No matter how he looked at it, he would lose this. He couldn’t bring a date now or he would pass up the chance of having Potter as his date, no matter how unrealistic it seemed. But if he went without a date, it could mean the worst humiliation of his life.

Draco propped himself up on his elbows and gazed at his black satin dressrobes. Maybe he should just stay in his dorm tonight, not go to the ball at all. On the other hand, that would be even worse. He’d be admitting defeat and be a coward. No, he would go to the ball, alone if he had to.

Draco was glad he didn’t fall down the stairs on his way to the Great Hall. He had never been more nervous in his life and felt like he was about to throw up on Professor McGonagall, who was talking to several students at the foot of the stairs.

He looked around nervously, searching for green robes and black hair, but Potter was nowhere to be seen. He did, however, see Pansy in her pale pink gown. The way she was clinging to Blaise’s arm looked painful. Blaise would probably have bruises tomorrow.

Draco’s eyes roamed the Entrance Hall again as he smoothed down his robes. His worst nightmare seemed to be coming true; Potter was making a fool out of him.

“You look nice.”

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. Warm breath was brushing his ear and the low voice left him completely flustered.

“P-Potter,” he stammered. He looked magnificent in his bottle green robes. But that wasn’t what made Draco’s heart almost leap out of his chest; it was just him standing in front of Draco. No date.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to help Ron err… figure out his robes.” He smiled and Draco pinched himself under his robes. This was real! Merlin’s beard!

Potter offered him his arm. Draco just stared at it.

“Everything okay?” Potter asked, quirking an eyebrow. Draco tried to think of a witty reply. He failed. He simply took Potter’s arm and was grateful he didn’t have to walk into the Great Hall by himself. He would have probably tripped over his own feet.

Professor McGonagall stopped them and started telling them something about the champions dancing. Draco didn’t really listen. He stared at his hand, clutching Potter’s upper arm. He felt wary. This was too good to be true.

When Potter started walking again, Draco looked up and saw he was smiling again.

“Will you stop that?” Draco barked.

“What?” Potter said, blinking rapidly.

“Your face!”

“My face?”

“Ugh, you really are thick.” When Potter started shaking with laughter, Draco frowned, before he realised his own mistake. They seem to be… a bit thick. It was as good as telling Potter how much he was stupidly in love with him. He wanted to curl up and die. But there was no time for that.

Everybody stared. Draco could feel it. They were gaping and whispering, some were even pointing at them. He didn’t know whether to feel ashamed or proud. When Potter led him to the middle of the dance floor, however, he did feel something else entirely.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Didn’t you hear what McGonagall said? The champions are the first to dance.”

Draco groaned. Of bloody course! Well, at least dancing wouldn’t be a problem. Although… with Potter as his partner…

Draco brought himself in position, waiting for Potter to take his hand, when he suddenly bent down.

“Potter, what are you doing?”

The Gryffindor was down on one knee and grinned up at him.

“Have you forgotten about our bet?”

Draco blinked.

“You came here with someone other than Pansy,” Potter said, grabbing Draco’s hand.

“Potter!” Draco’s knees were getting wobbly. He felt like he was going to pass out. “Potter,” he pleaded. “Not here. Not now.”

“Why not? You wanted me to do this.” Before Draco could protest any further, Potter leaned down and kissed Draco’s hand. A murmur went through the crowd and Draco was sure everybody could see his cheeks were on fire.

“Potter, get up,” he hissed and tugged at his hand. Music filled the room and Potter quickly pulled Draco into his arms. “I can’t believe you just did that,” Draco murmured as they swayed across the dance floor.

“If I remember correctly,” Potter said, a devious grin on his face, “there’s something you need to be doing as well.”

Draco didn’t think his face could heat up any more. He was wrong.

“Here?” he spluttered. “In front of everyone?”

Potter nodded.

“I think that was the condition. In front of everyone.” He leaned closer to Draco. “And there was something else,” he whispered into his ear. Draco froze. Like you mean it.

He looked around, panicked. He couldn’t kiss Potter here. He couldn’t kiss Potter anywhere right now. He was too nervous.

“Afraid, Malfoy?” Potter teased. But Draco noticed how his voice was quivering. He wasn’t as calm as he acted.

“Why are you insisting on this? Are you that desperate to humiliate me? Surely, you don’t actually want me to kiss you.”

Draco’s eyes widened when Potter shrugged.

“Why would you want me to kiss you?” he asked incredulously. Potter’s mouth twitched and turned into a huge grin.

“How should I know? I just do.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, for Draco to realise that Potter had just repeated the exact words he had said to Blaise in the library.

“You heard,” he breathed. “You know.”

“I do,” Potter said quietly. “And believe me, I was shocked.” He twirled them and Draco thought they were going to fall. “I stayed up the whole night thinking about it.” When Potter didn’t continue, Draco impulsively squeezed his hand.

“And?” Ugh, why did he have to sound so eager? It was embarrassing! Potter chuckled.

“And… after I talked to Ron about it-”

“You talked to Weasley?” Draco practically shrieked.

“Hey, he was the one who convinced me to ask you to this thing.”

Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked sideways and saw Weasley watching them intently.

“Merlin, what is he wearing?” Draco muttered. Potter laughed.

“I know. But yeah, Ron said he wouldn’t want to put up with me after…” Potter paused, looking a little bit nervous. “After seeing you kiss somebody else. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but… I guess I can’t deny I would have felt a bit… jealous.”

Jealous. The word rang in Draco’s ear, drowning out everything else. Suddenly, it was like it was just him and Potter. No crowd, no whispering, no stares.

“So,” Potter smiled, “are you going to-”

Draco leaned forward. The moment his lips touched Potter’s, everything in him exploded. He had no idea what kissing somebody was supposed to feel like. This was his first kiss after all. But if it always felt like this, he wanted to keep kissing Potter until he stopped breathing. He squeezed Potter’s hand tighter, pressed his other hand more firmly against the small of his back. When he felt Potter’s tongue on his lower lip, he opened his mouth and let out a sigh. This was pure bliss.

“Gentlemen,” a stern voice murmured beside them. “Please don’t forget this is a ball? At least keep dancing while you…” Draco opened one of his eyes and saw McGonagall awkwardly gesture at them. He chuckled and reluctantly pulled away. The sight in front of him made up for it. Potter was flushed and he looked a little dazed. Draco’s chest felt warm, thinking about the fact that he was responsible for that.

They began moving again and out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Pansy glowering at him. Oh boy, that conversation won’t be pleasant! He should at least make sure it will have been worth it. He leaned forward again and captured Potter’s lips with his own.

“Seems like we both lost the bet,” he murmured against the Gryffindor’s mouth. He felt Potter’s lips form into a smile as he pulled Draco closer.

“I’d say we both won.”

[twistedcurlgirl]

My Entitlement Switch

I will start from the very beginning. It seems to me the best place to start. If I told you only of the moment my ego kicked in shouting ‘’PRIVILEGED WHITE WOMAN WITH USA PASSPORT COMING THROUGH,’’ I think you would miss my evolvement getting there. 

So here we go from the tippy top.

As you may or may not know there have been recent restrictions made on which electronic devices can fly into the UK and USA from certain countries, one being Turkey where I was flying from to London to meet my sister for the weekend. 

Having read this update, my Kindle was out and ready for questioning. I start chatting with others in line, as I usually do, to discuss our mutual uncertainty of our varying electronics. ‘’This’ll pass the 19 cm long test, right?’’ I finally ask a British Airways desk attendant with what appeared to be a plastic board for us to test our items. I also noticed the plastic stated ‘’NO ROUND POWERBANKS’’ quite boldly. ‘’Sorry, no, just a smidge too long. You’ll have to check it.’’ Now there was something here, a little voice that said, ‘’Hey mister, check again - I am not paying for a checked bag just for this new law and there is no post office at the airport to send it back to my apartment in Istanbul soooooooooooo ...’’ 

It was the long so-oo that caught my compassion and I quieted myself before saying or thinking anything else that might encourage resentment. ‘’Hmm,’’ I looked around, ‘’anyone already checking a back I could slip this into?’’ A few said they would but couldn’t because they were already unsure of their carry-on weight; although, I heard ‘’never take something from another passenger’’ echoing through my head and realized there could be another reason no one was volunteering for this quest. Until 2 women traveling with many bags said they would ‘’of course’’ take it. I handed it off and let them try ahead of me at the ticket counter. However, realizing they hadn’t paid for luggage prior they moved to the side to repack and I moved up in line leaving them to sort ‘their’ luggage issue without hesitation. 

The representative questioned why I gave them my kindle and went on to explain she’d check my luggage because of the new restrictions. ‘’Yeah, as long as it has no round powerbanks you’ll be fine.’’ I lied, and put the one that was fully charged from my purse into the checked bag. It was within the new policy that anyone who bought their ticket before the new law was in place would be able to check a bag FOR FREE. My mouth said, ‘’Oh, that’s wonderful, I will grab my kindle and come back to check this pack,’‘ but my ego said ‘‘THAT’s more like it,’’ and stuck it’s nose in the air. I am not sure it came back down because here is what happened next. 

‘‘Right ladies, thanks so much for taking the Kindle but they will check my bag for free so I will take it back and do that.’‘ ‘‘Oh good news for you darling, here is the Kindle and could you possibly take this as your carry-on now that you don’t have one? It seems we are over on weight and are only allowed 1 carry-on each.’‘ ‘‘Of course, just get it tagged?’‘ I said, presuming obviously they wouldn’t expect me to go through security with their bag. ‘‘Well ya, but also go through the check point with us. Oh, and have you any money? We don’t have a credit card or enough money to check these bags on us so we are at a lost as to what we should do.’‘ I didn’t have the money on me, but I did have a credit card that I didn’t offer up. After I got the carry-on luggage tagged, I returned and quickly excused myself to use the toilet and get a coffee before take off. They understood completely and I headed for security, without their carry-on. I slipped away, and even though my heart wanted to help more - I could have and didn’t. This is when I probably should have noticed all my rights & wrongs were shifting around. 

The line was quick and painless as now I only had a purse with me. A couple of the friendlies from the line before and I started chatting. After we got through, we looked at the flight board and decided we all needed a coffee after all the electronics hiccups we each had. When checking out, I offered to pay for the lot of drinks, having adapted to Turkish hospitality I felt it only right to act as hostess. ‘’No, I couldn’t possibly allow that. However, your kindness has been noted and karma accrued.’’ We giggled it off, but I wonder now if that karma only paid off the debt I’d just withdrew for the free checked bag and leaving those kind women to sort themselves without my financial or moral support.

Last matter with the Aussies, a trade of local vs tourist. One of them needed a Turkish stamp, which I happened to have in my wallet and gladly offered. I also mentioned there was no post office in the airport. I promised to mail it when I returned to İstanbul on Monday, but only having the tiny purse with me I encouraged him to give it to me when we collected our baggage in London. İn return he asked if I needed help where I was heading once we landed. Grateful for the information alone, he also offered up his Oyster Card - I just couldn’t believe my luck. Here it is again - My Luck. As in the luck I deserve and own rightfully because I have been kind.

Together we go to gate and find the 2 women being searched. ‘’They let us through with all 3 bags, but now they are taking issue with them,’’ one said to me as I took a seat. Once they finished they sat down and whispered a bit about needed to reach their nephew and brother to pick them up and bring the funds for the nice man who came to their rescue and paid for the extra baggage at the ticket counter. ‘’I can help!’’ Eager to make up for leaving them stranded I handed them my phone with unlimited data and insisted they use it to call their family in London. ‘’Phew, that was a karmic close one,’’ I thought to myself.

Passing them to enter the plane, I overheard one last call for my salvation. ‘‘Only 1 carry-on bag ma’am.’‘ Before I realize my own actions, I have scooped up the 3rd carry-on and thanked the women for watching it for me as I went to the toilet. Redemption! We all get situated on the plane and thank each other for everything we tried to do to get each other (and all our stuff) on the flight.

Once aboard, a new set of twists emerged. For starters, the Captin informed us that we would be waiting an additional 20 minutes or so before take off as someone had been removed from the flight, but they needed time to remove his baggage as well. 

I found my seat and though the 2 friends I had yet to make moved out of the way for me to take it, I had to pee first and made them sit back down. 

Finally ready, I sit down and take off, we all introduce ourselves. ‘’Right, so I can already tell you’re nice but possibly dreadfully irritating and likely to cause me great grief on this flight,’’ said the chap, Sam from London. ‘’Ah-ha, he is just annoyed you had to pee. He doesn’t understand we are women, of course we will pee before the flight,’’ said the dentist, Elif from İstanbul. ‘’Welp, this should be fun,’’ said my ego, Maggie from NYC.

Just in time to break our awkward introductions a man starts to search the overheads, feverishly looking for his bag. An attendant followed behind him and dropped a hand-carved wooden tavla board on a woman’s head. ‘’Oh dear, look what I’ve done. I’ve dropped this on your head. Are you alright? I am so sorry, I will get you some ice. Really, I do apologize about that. On the bright side, he’s found his bag. It’s  quite a nice bag, actually .. soft. Not like the hard one I dropped on your head.”

At this point the 3 of us are dying laughing and bonding over the fact that we all found this other person’s injury delightfully amusing. 

'’Look look, her she comes with the ice.’’ ‘’ Right, we will make a report about the ice,’’ said the flight attendant.“Could I give back the ice and not report this?” said the injured. At this point the 3 of us as well as the rows beind us were all in hysterics. ‘’We’ll fill it out you’ll just sign, but we won’t force you to sign. We aren’t United Airlines - we won’t force you to do anything,” which encouraged many more chuckles followed by a long awkward silence which was finally broken by Sam, ‘’Are are we in a rom-com? Is Hugh Grant gonna come pop out the back?’’ This might have gotten more laughs had the Captin not then come on AGAIN to inform us of an additional delay, a medical issue. Good thing for them we were delayed for the baggage removal, unless of course it was the stress of waiting that sent this passenger into their emergency.

Nothing tickled me more than the Captin making the announcement to switch off laptops and put our tray tables away TWICE before take off while we all reminded each other of the new laws and the fact that we couldn't bring them on the plane, much less switch them off now.

‘‘Right, well, I wasn’t planning on drinking on this flight, but I think we better,’‘ said Sam, and once we were airborn (1.5 hours delayed) that’s exactly what we did.

Now the flight itself was perfect, at least that is what I remember from our cocktail party in the sky. It was only upon my entrance to the UK where my trip picked up any turbulence.

‘‘Oh Maggie, where is your landing card?’‘ Elif asked, wide-eyed and serious. ‘‘What landing card? I wasn’t given anything on the flight.’‘ ‘‘Ya, you definitely need one, here I carry extra and here is a pen,’‘ Sam offered. Those two were true buds now. I knew I had filled the card out incorrectly, I crossed something out and wrote next to it the correct answer, but I had no idea this would mean .. well just keep up because this part goes fast.

The line was moving quite slowly, and I noticed a family in a waiting area being questioned by one of the customs agents. ‘’Why don’t you have return tickets though? How long do you plan to stay? Why are you here?’’ were just a few of the questions I overheard. ‘’Well, we are from Syria and I am going to try to get a job here.’’ She said it so innocently, but I knew she’d just signed her own deportation paperwork.

I was next in line. The agent I saw in the waiting area came to booth 28, a significant number for me and I saw it as divine luck I was in store to get it. ‘’Here I go,’’ I giggled to Elif, who had been warning me to be respectful (and sober) to the agents. ‘’Don’t be nice even, make no jokes Maggie, I am serious.’’

‘‘Right well I see you either couldn’t be bothered to fill out your landing card or you are a total idiot,’‘ Customs Agent 565 announced loudly. I said nothing at first, just handed him my passport. Elif, already through, waited for me on the other side, noticing my smile had been wiped clean. 

‘‘Are you dumb as well? I said you didn’t fill out the landing card,’‘ he shouted as he ripped up the one I had filled out (albeit with one mistake). 

‘’Hey! Wait, what? I know I crossed something out but I did fill that out.’’ This was Strike 1, defending myself. 

‘‘Why are you here?'’ 

‘’I am here to visit my sister for the weekend.’’ 

‘’So when do you leave?’’ 

‘’Monday morning.’’ 

‘’Show me your return ticket.’’ 

‘’We took off nearly 2 hours late and as you probably know the airline now won’t let us travel with powerbanks.’’ Strike 2, dead phone.

‘’How is that my problem? If you can’t prove you have a return ticket, why should I let you in the country?’’ 

This was it - this was the moment I heard it. ‘’WHITE WOMAN WITH USA PASSPORT! THAT’S WHY YOU SHOULD LET ME IN!’’ Of course instead I just recited his badge number to him, told him he shouldn’t be treating ‘me’ this way and asked if there was someone else I could talk to. Just then he noticed Elif waiting and I motioned for just 1 minute to her with a smirk. Strike 3. ‘’İf you and your friend think this is a joke, I will show you it isn’t. Come with me.’’

He took me to the same area where he had been questioning the family earlier. There was also a man bleeding from his head, a mother with a crying baby and a small boy who looked to be on his own. ‘’Take a seat,’’ 565 said. I sat down in shock that I would be put in ‘this’ area with ‘these’ people. ‘’Don’t sit there, sit over there,’’ 565 motioned toward the injured man. ‘’No thank you, I am fine here.’’ ‘’I said move,’’ 565 shouted. ‘’I said no,’’ I situated in my seat. No longer alone he quickly changed his tone with me and decided not to push it further. ‘’I will be back in 10 minutes once your passport clears.’’

I was only in this waiting area about 15 minutes before I started to complain. ‘’He said 10 minutes,’’ I said to the female agent in the area with us. ‘’I shouldn’t talk to you,’’ she actually said that more than once. ‘’That little boy has asked you for water several times, you won’t do anything about that?’’ This was the first time she responded to me with anything else.‘

’Actually I didn’t understand him because he doesn’t speak English.” 

“So now that you know you’ll get him some water?” 

“I would do, but I am not allowed to leave this area and they have forgotten to give me a walky-talkie today.’’ 

‘’Excuse me? They forgot? Like that other agent is forgetting about me in here? İs this normal? Do you even know why he put me in here?’’ 

I saw her starting to squirm in her seat. Finally, after another 10 minutes passed, she was able to flag down another agent to make requests to. He came and brought the boy water which is when I took the opportunity to state my case.

“Hello, I’ve been forgotten about. Actually, I was never really told why I am in this area in the first place. That officer, there, put me here to make a point, but I have actually done nothing wrong and I would like to be released immediately.” 

I spoke quite loudly too, you know, the way one does when they are trying to make the one they are speaking to uncomfortable. Why I chose this position against any authority figure at all can only be explained by privilege. If I didn’t recognize it before, I sure as hell know what it looks like now. It looks a whole lot like waiving a USA Passport around, making demands and knowing it will end the way I want it to. Which unfortunately for my higher consciousness, is exactly what happened. 

Customs Agent 8336 brought me my passport and took me directly to another agent. The agent asked me the exact same questions as Agent 565, but accepted my answers and stamped me into the country. Agent 8336 apologized to me and led me towards the exit. 

Maybe it was the fact that I had already missed the play where my sister and I were supposed to meet. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the time in purgatory pumping through my vains. Maybe it was the Entitlement Switch not shutting off - but do you know what I said to this agent instead of “thank you”? 

“It’s not enough. I have missed the play. My phone is dead and the people who were helping get where I was going are long-gone. I want to make a complaint. I want to talk to someone and fill out paperwork on what that agent just put me through.”

He left for a moment and returned with a pamphlet. “Here, here is how we accept complaints. Write it down when you’re calm. We have a way of tracing every incidence here, no matter how much time has gone by.”

So there it was, I got to leave with a way to complain just 40 short minutes after I got into the line in the first place. And you know what? I re-lived this 40 minutes the entire 1.5 hrs it took to get to my sister where I thought for sure I would breakdown in her arms. I didn’t. Instead I said, “I am traumatized but looking at you now, I can’t do anything but smile.”

I waited in the lobby during the second half of the show, and talked to my sweet Turkish guy who tried his best to put things in perspective for me. Though I couldn’t yet hear all the truth behind it, one thing he said resonated. “Honey, you didn’t deserve it, but Cathy & London don’t either so don’t ruin your time there with her. If you enjoy your time, that agent loses with you.”

He was right, of course. So while I nursed my day-hang with water, I tried hard to let the experience go. At least until I could get my thoughts together and fill in that pamphlet.

After the show got out, I met my sister and her co-worker where I vocalized a bit more as we walked toward a pub for bites and booze.  I said I tried, I didn’t say I succeeded. 

“Do you want a pint?” Cathy suggested as I sat down. 

“No thanks, just water. I’m so thirsty.” There is was, the first wave of guilt. I am thirsty and just like that I am going to get ice water from the tap for free. Where is the justice? That little boy might still be in that waiting area. 

A while later, my headache started to clear and I caught another wave. I remembered the wounded man, the one I didn’t want to sit next to when the customs agent barked at me to move. How was his head? Why didn’t I care about his head before?

I didn’t need a third wave to see it now. “You guys, I didn’t want to be in the waiting area or lumped into any category with ‘those people’.” “Who Maggie?” “People who the Customs Agents were deeming illegal, I guess?” I said this aloud, but what I thought and what I am sure my smart sister heard was, “People who are less privileged.” 

It didn’t take me much longer to come to that awareness fully formed as an apology to my own heart. Not only had I outrageously behaved towards a government official who rightfully detained me for not having proof of a return ticket AND incorrectly filled out a landing card, I had also dismissed the entire country - hell the whole island - for something 1 representative “did to me.” Where was I, my higher consciousness, my compassion, my memory of the many friends I have had detained at airports recently either denied entry or deported from Turkey. Many of which hold UK or USA citizenship (NOT THE POINT), but I felt even set apart from them? Who did I think I was? Who do I think I am now that I realized my human is not always so awake. 

I have more work to do around this, because try as I might to not repeat this offensive attitude towards my fellow man, I won’t know where my entitlement switch is until it clicks on again. Right now I know it exists within a combination of my anger, time sensitivity and 3 Proseccos. For everyone’s sake, I hope it does happen, I have a lot more to learn.