#i needed to share this somewhere or i would have exploded like one of jinx’s bombs

[shahrwrites]

Do you guys realize that if Viktor never gave any rune crystals to baby Jayce, or never tried to save him to begin with, that none of this would have ever happened?

I mean, no runes, no hextech, right? And Jayce would have probably just gone on to work at his family’s business and would never have met Viktor.

Bro was willing to risk the end of the world in every timeline simply to meet his ‘partner’.

Yeah. Right.

[roberttchase]

A tiny 2k fic based on @farfarawaygirl‘s post talking about wanting Matt to hallucinate/dream a future with Sylvie in the upcoming episode. Enjoy my friends! 

“Do we really need to get up?” Sylvie’s voice is soft and sleepy, and it makes Matt’s stomach flip, makes him feel warm and safe. Stretching a little, only to bring his girlfriend closer, the firefighter nods, burying his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in slowly. “Can’t we just...not show up?” 

A fond noise rises up from his throat, and the Captain laughs a little, bringing the covers up tighter around them. It’s cold and rainy outside, clouds hanging low, the sky dark. The perfect day for staying inside and not going to shift. 

“As much as I want to, you know Boden wouldn’t be happy. His PIC and his Captain not showing up? The house would burn to the ground,” he jokes. “Okay maybe not literally, since we’re all firefighters, but…” he trails off, nose scrunching up at his lame joke. Sylvie presses a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet. 

“Sometimes it’s annoying that you’re so responsible and dependable, Matt Casey,” the paramedic huffs. “But I love you for it. Everyone does,” she adds, making Matt blush, never one to accept praise and compliments well. But coming from his girlfriend, it makes him feel warm. 

They get up reluctantly, knowing that their jobs are; whether they want to admit it or not, important and can’t be frivolously pushed to the side. Their routine is seamless, something they’ve been doing for months now- Matt works on smoothies while Sylvie gets ready, then Sylvie feeds their little black cat while he goes to do the same. It’s effortless and makes him smile every time they put it into practice. As he finishes pouring Sylvie’s blueberry smoothie into her usual to go tumbler, his own mango one already sitting on the counter, the woman comes out in a soft sweater, setting her bag down near the door. 

“Otis said he has some big news he wants to share today,” she says as she presses a kiss to Matt’s cheek, taking her smoothie happily.

The words catch him off guard, enough to make him freeze, before remembering that Otis dying was just a nightmare of his. He’d woken up three nights ago sweating and frantic, tears burning behind his eyes as Sylvie had assured him Otis was fine, he was probably up playing fortnight or some other video game even at three am. 

“Oh? Knowing him it’s probably some convention coming to town he wants us all to go to,” the Captain snorts. Making his way back to the bedroom, Matt slips on his favorite henley and dark jeans, attempting to fix his hair that’s growing longer now that it’s cold. After he brushes his teeth and looks himself over, the man grabs his bag and makes his way back to his girlfriend. A sharp pain shoots through his head but it’s gone as quickly as it’s come, and Matt brushes it off. As the lemon wallpaper comes into view; the same as the one from Sylvie’s old apartment, Matt looks at her. 

“Ready?” 

The ride to the firehouse is filled with old N’SYNC and Backstreet Boys, and Matt grins the whole time as Sylvie sings completely engrossed into the music. He’s not sure how he got so lucky to get her to date him. The way she says ‘I love you’ sticks in him every time and makes him feel more confident of himself. Pulling up to the large brick building, the couple gets out with their bags slung on their shoulders, hold hands, and walk in. 

The morning starts even before briefing, alarm blaring out for all companies to help with a large fire at a hotel downtown. As they pull up, Matt notices the smoke billowing up from the top of the building, not black, but it’s on its way to it. Hopping out, Matt looks at his team; Otis, Kidd, Gallo and Mouch, then gives a wry smile. 

“Hope you're awake guys, this one looks big.” 

They meet up with squad, engine and ambo, and Matt goes to find the person in charge- a small woman who looks only slightly panicked, more shell shocked than anything. He hears a few of 51 directing people in and out of the building. 

“We’re going to need blueprints of the hotel. Any idea where the fire is?” 

From there it’s a rescue mission. Get everyone out as quickly as possible. Locate the fire and get it under control. On level thirteen, they run into an issue. 

“Chief, floor thirteen is rolling, we’re going to need backup to get everyone out,” Matt radio’s. “Might need to call in some more ambo relief,” he adds. 

“Copy that Casey. Sending in engine, and calling it in.” 

Two hours of intense heat, getting bodies out, and going through recovery, and finally everyone’s back at the house, already beat from the roughness of the call. 

“What a morning, huh?” Herrmann sighs, rubbing his face as he sits on the couch. Ritter and Gallo are working on breakfast, when Matt looks around and then blinks. 

“Scratch breakfast, I’m too hungry for eggs and bacon. How about we order pizza from Benny’s?” 

Everyone perks up, and Matt’s aware it’s due to the rarity of him suggesting something like this. He’s one to always stick to house made food, not big on ordering things in. It seems like everyone could use the pick me up though. Fishing his wallet out from one of his pockets, the blonde grabs his card and hands it to Gallo. “Order some pizza,” he smiles. 

“You got it Captain.” 

Kidd looks at him with her eyebrows raised. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’ Captain, you just seem in a good mood today is all,” the firefighter shrugs with a smile, making Mouch chuckle. 

“Casey in this good of a mood means something happened.” 

Furrowing his brow, Matt crosses his arm and lets out a huff. “I can’t just want to do something nice? It was a rough call.” 

“Leave him alone guys, he’s happy. Don’t ruin it,” Sylvie walks over from where she’s been sitting with Mackey, putting a hand on his shoulder. Another jolt of pain stabs into his temple, but barely lingers. He squeezes her arm. 

“I’m going to do paperwork, come find me when the pizza’s here?” 

“Copy that.” 

The rest of the day is, for once, blissfully easy, so far. There’s no bad calls for anyone, all mild and fairly quick. The consumption of pizza is interrupted by a small grease fire in a kitchen, but they’re all back within the hour, spirits high. 

“I don’t wanna jinx anything, but today is going pretty well,” Cruz says as he takes a bite of pizza. 

“Cruz! Shut up!” Severide calls out, rolling his eyes. Matt shakes his head. Leave it to Cruz to say it outloud. They all hold their breath, but no alarm sounds. Hallelujah. Sylvie sits next to him as they all enjoy the rest of their pizza, her hand on his knee, under the table and discreet. 

As he works on paperwork in his quarters, the paramedic walks in, sitting on his bunk. “Come sit with me, you can finish paperwork in a minute,” her voice sounds tired, just having gotten back from a run. The tone makes him look over, and he can tell instantly. It was a bad one. Moving as quickly as he can, he sits next to her, one hand cupping her cheek, thumb brushing against her soft skin. His head gives an angry throb. He ignores it. Sylvie’s upset. 

“What happened?” 

“Gunshot wound to the chest...a seven year old,” her voice is thin, wavering as tears start rolling down her cheeks. “I k-kept try to get him to wake up.” He wraps his arms around her tightly, kissing her hair. His head won’t stop throbbing now. He swallows against it. 

“Sylvie...you did all you could. I know you did,” Matt tries to reassure her, though he knows it’s probably not helping much. She looks up at him, heartbreak written all over her face. “He w-wouldnt...he was lying there motionless...I needed him to wake up Matt...I c-can’t…” 

Looking down at the petite blonde, his head feels suddenly like it’s being cracked in two. The pained gasp that leaves his lips is unstoppable, and he screws his eyes shut tightly. He can feel Sylvie shift. His body is rigid, his skull feels like someone’s hit it with a hammer. 

“Matt? What’s going on? Matt…”

He’s falling. Eyes still shut, Matt feels nausea well up inside him. The pain is all consuming. He struggles to open his eyes, and when he does, he’s in a completely different room. He’s disoriented, can’t quite get a hold of what’s real and what’s not. Is he dreaming? The pain in his head is angry and out for vengeance. The room is….is…. Matt’s mind feels like it’s grasping for straws, like words are right out of reach. His eyes move around. He feels hazy and sick. The beeping that’s coming from...somewhere, is hurting his head. His eyes shut. 

Sluggishly, he blinks again, and a man with jet black hair is in front of him. “Matt, are you with me?,” the man asks, dressed in dark red scrubs. There’s a name embroidered on his shirt but it’s fuzzy. A pretty woman with curly hair is standing next to him. Choi, April, his mind supplies. He’s in the hospital. He can’t remember why. Can’t remember anything before then night prior, sitting in Molly’s with Severide. 

Head throbbing, Matt licks his lips, nodding minutely. “Mm...y-yeah…” the word dies out. “Wh-What…” The Captain’s exhausted, and his eyes slip closed again, unable to stay open. 

“Matt, I need you to stay awake, can you open your eyes?” 

He tries, but it’s no use. It hurts. Everything hurts. 

“Matt, can you tell me your full name?” 

Struggling, the blonde opens his eyes again. “Matt...Matt Casey.” 

“Good, good. And can you tell me what hurts?” 

“Head...s’gonna explode…”

“Okay, we’ll get you medicine for that.” Choi turns to April, nodding as she walks out. “And can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?” 

It takes a moment. He remembers Severide, and then...then….a car. A man driving and he was holding on...then...pain. Excruciating pain, ringing in his ears. Getting back to the firehouse, promising he was okay. Sylvie. 

“L-Locker room with Sylvie...I was dizzy.” His words sound slow even to himself. Matt swallows and brings a shaky hand to his face. A painful tug on the back of it notifies him he’s got a line in. 

Choi nods, writing something down. “You’re doing great. We’re going to get you in for a CT scan right away, but the fact you remember somewhat is good. How’s the pain? 1 to 10?” 

“10,” Matt grits out, becoming more and more aware of the sharp pains encompassing his head. April’s at his side seconds later. 

“I’m giving you some morphine, I’m doing it slowly. You should feel it in about ten seconds okay? You’ll feel warm and fuzzy, that’s normal.” He wants to tell her he’s already fuzzy, but instead he nods. Just as she’s said, he does feel almost instantly warm, and then it’s like he’s floating. His mind drifts back to Sylvie. They were dating. They were together. But no, that’s not right. Grainger.

“Is…can...wh-where’s Sylvie..” Matt’s certain she brought him in, she was the last person he can recall seeing. 

“I think she’s out in the waiting area, breaking covid protocol,” April says with a small smile. 

“I’ll get her for you, but only for a few minutes, once we get the CT room we’re taking you,” Choi adds.

They both leave and Matt’s left to his floaty thoughts. He wants to kiss Sylvie again, wants to hold her hand and call her sweetheart. He remembers, now, her telling him he was still in love with Gabby. That’s not true. It hasn’t been for over a year, more than that really. He needs her. He doesn’t want to see her with Grainger, he wants to be the one to let her know how special and loved she is. He loves her. The curtain slides, and Matt sees Sylvie walk in. Her eyes are puffy and red, and he can see wetness clinging to her cheeks telling him she’s been crying. He doesn’t want her to cry. 

“Sylvie.” 

The paramedics face crumples, and as she gets closer she scrubs at her eyes and face. “M-Matt.” It’s choked and distraught, and Matt slowly, lazily holds out the hand closest to her. 

Sitting in the plastic chair, Sylvie brings it as close to the hospital bed as she can and grabs his hand hesitantly.  He wishes he could hug her, comfort her more than with just a hand hold. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but we need to take him for the CT scan,” April walks back in, looking apologetic. 

“Please don’t leave,” Matt slurs, and Sylvie lets out a choked laugh. 

“I’m not going anywhere Matt Casey, I promise.” 

When he’s not in the hospital, he’s going to fight for her. Grainger be damned, Matt’s going to somehow prove to her he’s not in love with Gabby anymore, and that Sylvie isn’t a consolation prize. She does deserve to be with someone who puts her first. And that someone is going to be him.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 121

Insert Winter Holiday is here, again!

I’m queuing this ahead of time, and I originally had a really cute message about the end of the year. Then, I realized what year this is and said “Yeah, nope. Not jinxing it, will not have the actual end of the world be my fault.”

I am going to leave it at this: thank you to @baelpenrose, @raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog for all your help with this story in 2020. Thank you to every single one of you who bombed by notes this year when you found The Miys. Thank you @janeshadow for talking me into getting off my rump and making the story easier to navigate.

Standing to my feet after putting the last dish in the oven, I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around my quarters. Despite the fact that we had forgone a tree this year for Insert Winter Holiday, there was a definite festive feeling as everyone packed themselves in as much as possible. Derek had clearly found my lights again, as they circled every public space in my quarters, including the kitchen.  Furniture was pushed as far against the walls as possible, and everyone had been advised to bring their own cushion to sit on.

In the two celebrations since waking up on the Ark, dinner and gifts had largely been a smaller, more typical dinner-style affair.  However, without my noticing, my family had grown exponentially since then, and this year finger foods passed from hand to hand as everyone relaxed and chatted. Charly, Tyche, and I took turns in the kitchen, with Hannah waving us all three to sit while she checked on something in the oven so that we could rest and enjoy ourselves, too.

“Where’s Derek?” Charly asked as she approached me to take her shift watching the last batch of food bake.

“He isn’t great with crowds, so he and Sam already came for lunch and to exchange gifts,” I explained, stroking the scarf they had given me. “They already left and took Mac with them.”

“Aww, they’re hogging the Christmas Cat… No fair!” she pouted comically.

“Eh, Mac’s not a fan of crowds either. Besides, I’m pretty sure someone gave him cheese - again - so I’d rather the little gas bomb not be here tonight.”

“Fair enough,” she laughed before popping me with a tea towel. “Go! Your turn to socialize and cuddle!”

I held up my hands in defeat before carefully picking my way around people. Coffey was gracious enough to take my hand and guide me around him and over to where Conor and Maverick were guarding the astonishingly huge pile of gifts. Arthur was nearby, arguing with Conor and trying to drag Simon into it every chance he could. The topic sounded like a rehash of the one regarding fortifications, only this time it was Fortification Redux: The Plant Edition. “We’ve already confirmed there are no megafauna on Von!” Arthur exclaimed wearily. “Not even vegetarians. Why would we need fortifications?”

I could tell Conor was just provoking him when he lazily waved a hand. “It’s psychological, to make people feel safe. Besides, agriculturally, it serves as double duty.”

“He has a point,” Simon conceded, wincing when Arthur turned a playful squint his direction. “He does!”

“Whatever,” Arthur surrendered with a mock-sulk. “Sophia…”

“You know where I stand on this argument, don’t even try it,” I laughed as I dropped in between my partners.

“You wound me! I was going to offer to whip up some goulash, but now I don’t think I will since someone thinks she should accuse me of such atrocious crimes.”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “Whip up whatever you want, I’m done with kitchen duty, and so is Tyche. Charly’s on her last lap.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Maverick laughed, catching Coffey’s careful eye on his beloved bundle of energy.

Arthur practically leapt to his feet. “That decides it. I am so offended by Sophia’s accusations that I am going to share the kitchen with Miss Chaos Incarnate and leave you all to wonder what wound up in the food.”

Tyche tipped her head back to scowl at him from where she was draped across Antoine’s lap. “If I find a single eyeball…”

Muttering something suspiciously close to “Dammit”, Arthur prowled across the room as though the entire floor wasn’t draped in legs and people.

I opened my mouth to whine about how he could do that, only to be cut off when a piece of pastry was stuffed in my mouth. Grievances forgotten, my eyebrows shot up as I chewed. “Tyche! When did you make donuts!?”

“It may have involved time travel,” she waggled her fingers at me. “But no blood magic or ritual sacrifices, swear.”

I could see Antoine shake his head before responding over his shoulder. “She made them this morning.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Travelling forward through time is still time travel, mon coeur.” He tapped the tip of her nose with one finger, eliciting an expression from her that promised swift and painful retribution.

A soft rustle of fabric caught my attention, and I turned to see a pile of purple and jade-green silk land beside me before a long, dark braid came into view. “The donuts are quite delightful,” Parvati declared as she yanked Xiomara down beside her in a graceless heap. Grabbing a dark brown one from the plate, she popped it in her lover’s mouth just as Xiomara was about to complain. “That one is a Black Forest, I believe. You’ll love it.”

“Careful on those,” Conor warned. “I think they’re half booze.”

“I only soaked the cherries in kirsch,” Tyche corrected. “Not the whole thing.”

“So yeah, half booze,” I corrected.

Giving her most fearsome scowl, Xio snatched the rest of the Black Forest donuts off the plate and balanced them in one hand.

A squeal of laughter interrupted our shenanigans, and we whipped our heads around in time to see Hannah holding a plate of mini-Wellingtons over her head without even looking, while Charly struggled to get up from where she was sprawled across both the other woman’s lap and Coffey’s.  Zach stared at Hannah like he just saw his first sunset, and Maverick snorted behind me.

“He is such a goner over her,” I heard him say, followed by a light smack.

“Because I have certainly never seen you look at Conor or Sophia in such a way,” Parvati added lightly. “And obviously not when Conor is baby-talking to the plants around the ship, or when Sophia is so busy working she will eat whatever is handed to her.”

He buried his face in the back of my hair before squeaking. “Nope. Never!”

I twisted around so I could see them both. “Wait. When did this happen?”

“Three times a week, in your office,” Tyche interjected in a bored tone. “And pretty religiously.”

I felt my face heat up. “Does everyone know about this except me.”

Xiomara nodded furiously, cheeks plumped out and a suspicious number of donuts missing from the pile in her hand. Parvati shook her head at the antics and smiled gently. “Someone needs to make sure you eat… He brings you gyoza, and you don’t even notice. It’s quite adorable.”

Conor laughed. “She’s got you there, love.”

Eyes flashed as four heads snapped around to him. “Oh, don’t think you’re off the hook, mister!” Charly scolded at him. “He does the same thing to you. Those little pasties you like so much, with the potato and onion.”

Maverick groaned his embarrassment into my shoulder, while Conor’s smile faltered. “I would remember that,” he insisted.

“Not even once,” Charly confirmed.

Rather than being embarrassed, Conor just laughed again and reached to drag us both over to him. “I don’t know how someone so tall can be so sneaky, but I won’t argue.”

That moment was when Arthur decided to return, a trail of slurps in his wake as he handed out goulash. “No eyeballs,” he sighed dejectedly as he handed one to Tyche.

“You guys are no fun,” Charly muttered as she took her own bowl.

Poor Simon eyed the offering hesitantly. Arthur gently wiggled the bowl at him. “I promise, you’ll like it.”

Carefully, as though it would explode at any moment, Simon took the dish and managed a small bite.  After a few seconds - presumably to confirm there was no trick - he chewed and immediately started bolting it down at a rapid pace. “I thought it would be spicier,” he admitted as he snaked a hand out to grab another.

“That would be the paprika.  Really red, not really spicy.”

Maverick laughed as he took a bowl, but poked it with his fork before wrinkling his nose. “Sorry, Arthur, not happening.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than Simon’s hand darted out again, eliciting laughter from everyone.

Arthur shrugged, well aware of Maverick’s food aversions by this point. “It’s not for everyone. You keep your tofu, I’ll keep my goulash.”

Not long after that, the last of the food was gone and dishes were cleared. Hot drinks were handed out by Zach and Conor, and then it was finally time to exchange gifts. Baked goods from Tyche made the rounds, along with beautiful accessories from Parvati, carefully curated books from Alistair, plants from Conor and Sam, and more.

At one point, Arthur was staring at his gift from Charly like it would bite him. “It’s… a pen?”

She nodded, producing a small jar of black ink from somewhere. “A fountain pen, with black India ink. I made them both myself.”

Arching an eyebrow, he brought the pen closer to examine the engravings. “An otter… with a sword?”

“With a saber,” she corrected. “I tried to make it look like yours, but do you know how hard you make it to get a good look at that thing!?”

“It’s literally on display in my office when I’m not practicing with it.”

“And how am I supposed to get in there when you aren’t? You booby-trapped the door!”

“Wonder why….” he mused with a small smile. “This is very intricate,” he finally admitted.

“Consider it an apology for the other ones.”

“Oh!” I realized.  “Give me just a second, everyone.”  Scrambling, and with nowhere near Arthur or Tyche’s grace, I managed to make it to our bedroom to grab an armful of boxes. Once I was back at the doorway, I peeked around the stack and smiled. “These are from Derek, with a little bit of help from Hannah.”  Checking names, I distributed the boxes before making my way back to my spot.

“This is… It’s so soft!” Parvati exclaimed. “And the colors are beautiful!”

I smiled as I rubbed the scarf I wore. “He wanted to show his appreciation for how welcome he feels, even if he was overwhelmed at the idea of being here.”

Hannah nodded as she brushed her scarf against her cheek. “We worked on these for months, but I didn’t realize he found time to make one for me… All the colors and patterns are different for each person, by the way. They’re meant to show us how he thinks of us.”

Conor held up the green and orange fabric that his box revealed. “I love it, but I’m confused.”

She rolled her eyes, and tapped her own scarf. “This goldish-brown is my eyes, and this olive green are the clothes I usually wear.”

Coffey’s laughter rang through the room as he unfolded his to see a pattern like Neapolitan ice cream: Rich brown, bright pink, with white swirled throughout. “I think he nailed it.”

Antoine’s head tilted until it almost met his shoulder. “Our eyes… Every single scarf has the color of our eyes in it.  That must have been so hard for him to do.” I could see what he meant - Derek did not look people in the eyes, as a rule.

“He wants us to know that he sees us, and that he likes that we see him,” Zach shrugged. When we all stared at him, he just blinked. “What? You don’t work with him as much as I do without figuring those things out.”

Without exception, everyone wrapped their gifts from Derek around themselves before the next set of gifts were handed out. “These are from me,” Arthur explained. “Hopefully I got it right.”

Like Alistair, Arthur had gifted everyone a book, but rather than a book that furthered a current interest, he had sought out historical insights into extremely niche topics for everyone. Some made pretty obvious sense - a book on the historical events leading to and the impacts of the Harlem Renaissance for me, a book on the evolution of law in various cultures for Xiomara - but some were far less obvious.

“A book on Roman law?” Charly asked, confused.

He reached over and tapped on the cover. “Specifically, this is about how much of Roman law was the result of litigation, with some pretty hysterical results. I think you’ll get a huge kick out of it.”

She cracked the book open to a random page and looked at it. “If you weren’t home when you were subpoenaed as a witness, you didn’t have to testify, but if you didn’t the person could stand outside your house and - “ she snorted before continuing in a fit of giggles. “Yell at you… for no more than three…. Three hours a day, three days a week - “ another snort “for up to a year!” She wiped a tear from her eye and surrendered to her giggles. “Oh that’s amazing! Thank you!”

Charly wasn’t the only one laughing. Even Xiomara was snickering. “That is an incredibly specific law.”

“Absurd laws are best laws,” he shrugged.

Eventually, all the gifts were distributed, but nobody was in a rush to leave. Instead, we lounged around, quietly catching up and talking about our plans for the upcoming ‘year’. At some point, Insert Winter Holiday had, unanimously and without fanfare, become the end of the year celebration on the Ark, even as far as the Council made plans. With that in mind, we were taking a chance to celebrate our continued survival for yet another cycle, and tried to look forward with optimism toward the next one.

I just let the feelings sink into me, enjoying the presence of the people who moved into my life.  Had I been asked fifteen years ago where I saw myself in the future, ‘on a spaceship, as the last of the human race, about to colonize another world’ would have been nowhere on that list.  But here I was, with a larger family than I had ever dreamed.

Despite all that we had been through, I couldn’t wait to see what the future would bring.

 (A/N: Keep your eyes out for an announcement on New Year’s Eve!)

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[freckles-and-jalapeno]

First Snow

Word count: about 5K 🎧: this Originally I posted it on AO3 in 2 languages, English and Russian. Check it out if you'd like! Other than that, I hope u enjoy! 🌟

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First snow...

No, we’re not talking about that pathetic, grey, mashed potato-like mud that makes your socks wet. It’s not those soggy pieces of cold white cotton wool, blown into the folds of your scarf by the wind. And it’s not that icy-cold frost that bites into your cheeks and ears, ruffles your hair and pierces the layers of your coat and sweaters. It’s that warm, pure December snow that quietly falls from the sky in soft flakes.

- What fine weekend weather we‘re having today! - happily said Tonks as she was crunching on her cheese toast. - Last week, you said exactly the same thing about the snowstorm - remarked Talbott, briefly looking up from his book "Transfiguration Tips for Young Wizards and Witches".

"What’s wrong with enjoying life?" Tonks would have answered, but since her mouth was still full of food, she only managed “Fffoosss wwonkk ittph eehooaaifff?”

Indeed, everyone at Hogwarts was in high spirits: the winter holidays were in full swing, half of the tables in the Great Hall were removed to accommodate beautiful Christmas trees, and students from different houses were allowed to sit together. Y/N, Tulip and Bill were the first ones to arrive for breakfast and attack the apple oatmeal; then Talbott and Tonks joined them. The air was full of joyful hubbub: the owls, who already delivered their morning parcels, were hooting and flapping their wings; students were rattling with their spoons and cups or loudly discussing the latest gossip from The Daily Prophet . And yet, there was one man in the castle who did not share the common joy.

Charlie has entered the Great Hall and tragically plopped down next to Tonks. - It’s a nightmare. I asked Francesca Wayne out on a date, and she agreed. - And... isn't that good news? - Bill gestured with his spoon of oatmeal towards his brother. Coincidentally, some oatmeal flew off the spoon, soared over the table and sludged right onto Barnaby’s shoulder.

- Her agreeing to go on a date with me was good. - Charlie said. - We were strolling around Hogsmeade, and everything was swell until some fifth-year Slytherin student unexpectedly jinxed me with the Tarantallegra charm. I began to tap-dance like a madman!.. And then it got worse. I was still dancing by the time Fitwick showed up. He did cast a counter-spell, but.. - Charlie covered his face with hands, and now was talking through his fingers. - ...by that time I had already managed to plummet into some mud nearby… I suspect it was porlock’s dung. It smelled all the same. Basically, I looked like a complete idiot ... oh, crickey!

Just at this moment they noticed a group of cute Hufflepuff girls passing by. For some mysterious reason, all girls had their hair gathered in a neat, long ponytail. The tallest gal from the gang stopped and waved in their direction.

- Hee-hee! Hiiiii Charlie! .. How are your legs doing today? ..

The feeling of shame caused Charlie’s face to take on a shade of beet.

- This is officially it. I quit girls. From now on, I will become a druid, go somewhere like Egypt and will only be dealing with dragons.

- Oh come on, Charlie! Don’t mind Francesca! - Y/N reassuringly patted her friend on the arm. - You know, I often see her in Potions class: she hides behind a cauldron and picks her nose, thinking that no one can see her.

- So true, - Tulip signed with her brows. - I bet she’s eating her boogers, too!

The whole company burst into loud laughter.

- But seriously though, - continued Tonks. - Let's forget everything about these bloody incidents and celebrate the weekend properly! Let's visit Hogsmeade, buy some butterbeer….

- Take a look at Zonko’s! ..

- Blimey, how could we forget about Zonkos’ for a split second?..

- Actually, this might be a good idea. I do need a new moke leather bag...

- I”ll get some sugar quills! ..

And so they agreed.

* * *

After shoving themselves into warm sweaters, hats, and mittens, they headed out of the Courtyard together. Bill, Charlie, and Tulip were walking in front, followed by Talbott, Y/N and Tonks. The group chatted about the upcoming semester and wondered which subject will have them writing most essays. Shortly thereafter, they met Professor Snape, grouchily making his way back to the castle, and they started proposing different versions of why he wasn’t around much these days and what mysterious business he was up to. Finally, they had an argument about what kind of festive pudding the elves would be making for the last day of holidays. Talbott betted galleons to Fizzing Whizzbees that the pudding will have strawberry flavor, Y/N voted for lemon, and Tonks - for cherry.

The road was gradually getting covered in white. Snow was sneaking into their boots, and the wind was merrily propelling them forward.

Suddenly, when friends were walking past a small brome grass field (now frozen and covered in snowdrifts), a large snowball glided through the air, furiously whistling all the while. It crashed directly into Tulip’s hood and majestically exploded with snowflake glitter.

- What the %#!*i9&! - angrily cursed the Ravenclaw as she turned around in search of the culprit.

Tonks was standing a little further away, now mockingly tossing another snowball up and down.

- Haha. One-zero, Karasu. C’mon you guys, we can't just walk away from this much snow.

Tulip shook her head to get the snow out her hair.

- Well, you're doomed, you little pink-haired witch! - she yelled and lunged herself at Tonks.

- Look at yourself, you tomato head! - metamorphine shouted in response and dashed away from her friend, laughing uncontrollably.

Unable to resist such good fun, the rest joined the battle, which was about to become the greatest strategic snowball battle in the history of Hogwarts.

They split into 2 teams. While one of his teammates was distracting the others, Talbott would conjure gigantic snowballs and avalanche them onto the heads of enemies via Wingardium Leviosa. Meanwhile, Tulip sneaked up on Charlie using a disillusionment charm; she grabbed his red hair and dipped him into a snowdrift right up to his neck. Bill, suddenly filled with brotherly instinct, jumped in front of Y/N and covered her from a charge of Tonks’ snowballs with his body. This sacrifice, however, turned out to be utterly useless, as the very next moment Charlie doubled the snow artillery in her direction; so much so that he knocked Y/N’s cap off.

At last, they tumbled in Madam Rosmerta's pub as one noisy lump of fun and laughter: cold, wobbly and covered with snow, but lively and carefree nonetheless.

- A table for six, please! - Tonks demanded in a jolly voice.

- For six? M’dears… - a low pitched, cackle-like noise came from a table at the very door.

It was professor Trelawney who tremulously perked up from underneath her thousand and one sherry-scented shawls.

- I think I heard I ... saw that you wanted a table for six? But did you know, m’dears, that the ancient scroll of prophecy specifically says NOT to sit down at a table on the sixth day of lunar December, if you are a group of six? The last one to sit down will lose a friend on the very same night ...

The group of friends exchanged puzzled glances. Of course, no one believed in Trelawney's predictions, but it was still very uncomfortable to hear things like that.

- Here, please. - Madam Rosmerta appeared in front of them before anyone had the time to reply to the terrible omen. She led the group up to a cozy table next to the fireplace.

- Blimey! What rubbish this old blind cat is saying this time? - Tonks hissed.

- Nonsense, like the usual. Every tea leaf class she’s now predicting a painful and a horrible death for just about everybody. Woo-o-o-o! Some dark forces are hovering over Hogwarts… - Y/N mimicked professor Trelawney’s voice and gestures. - But when aren’t they?

- Right. - nodded Talbott. - Besides, no one has died so far.

- Uh .. Well, who wants to sit down last? - Charlie asked hesitatingly.

- I’ll go! - volunteered Y/N.

- Suit yourself. - shrugged Charlie and hastily sat down.

- You don't believe those silly predictions, do you, Charlie? - Tulip settled down on a nearby chair. - Take a look, there are so many people around here sitting in groups of six. This doesn’t mean they will all lose a friend overnight ...

- Numerologically speaking, it is simply impossible, - added Bill and sat down, too.

Tonks sat down next to Bill. Talbott thoughtfully gazed at Y/N for a moment, and then he silently joined the others. Y/N was the last one to sit.

Without listening to friends’ endless squabble about Trelawney's competence, she stretched her legs towards fire, feeling blissfully warm and tired. Today was such a good day. And Madam Rosmerta is about to bring butterbeer for everybody! ..

- While we’re here, - Tulip cleaned her throat, - we need to make sure that there is enough of the wonderful drink for each one of us.

She took out her wand and pointed it at the glasses with beer.

- Engorgio!

The glasses had grown twice in size. They weren’t glasses anymore, really - they were jugs.

Bill raised his jug in the air:

- Let's drink to friendship! - To loyalty! - To honesty! - To dung bombs! - To holidays! - To Hogwarts!

Comfortably nestled at The Three Broomsticks, friends were clinking their glasses and drinking, and then some more, and a little bit more. At last, when everyone started to feel the soothing and flushing effects of the caramel liquid, Tulip grabbed a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards from her coat.

- Alright, friends. How about we play some truth or dare? - she suggested.

- Since when does truth or dare require cards? - argued Charlie.

- Since today, you silly redhead. Highest card gets to ask. Lowest card gets to answer. I'll start, you chickens... Y/N, take one card, too.

Y/N stretched her hand forward and caught a card that jumped out of the deck. One moment later, the two girls smashed their cards onto the table. Charlie declared:

-Three of feathers and a phoenix. Hey, Tulip wins!

Tulip let out a wide mischievous grin.

- Y/N, tell us the truth then. Marry, flip, kill: Penny, Merula, Charlie.

Bill and Tonks immediately started to giggle and nudge each other with their elbows. Talbott and Charlie, on the other hand, straightened up in their chairs, leaned forward and stared at Y/N solemnly, without blinking.

After some thinking, Y/N tilted her head to one side and replied:

- Okay, I think I got it. I’d marry ... Charlie.

Tonks let out a loud whistle.

- I ... Uuhhh thanks I guess? - responded Charlie, blushing furiously.

- I would flip ... Merula. - continued Y/N.

- You mean you’d flip the greatest witch at Hogwarts? Ha-ha, that’s an interesting choice. - Tulip mightily slapped Y/N on the shoulder.

- Wow Tulip. - Talbott gingerly proceeded to remove Tulip’s hand from Y/N’s shoulder. - You pronounce “horrifying” differently than I do.

- Wait, so this means that you kill ... Penny? - Bill's jaw dropped in astonishment.

-Don’t get me wrong ... - explained Y/N. - She’s nice and all, but sometimes I get this feeling that she’s following me everywhere… and I mean everywhere. So yeah.

- Poor Penny. The sun-like creature who is always happy to see you. - Talbott chuckled. - And now, she has to DIE.

Their table shook from the loud cackling.

Brilliant! - Tulip clapped her hands. - The first round is over. Y/N, you won, now you get to choose who draws cards next..

Y/N chose Bill and Tonks.

- 7 of wands and 9 of stars! That was a close one, Bill. - Tonks’ face glowed up and her hair turned raspberry color. - So here is your dare, William...

- Oh no, no, no ... - Bill grabbed his red hair and started to crumple them.

- Don’t fret, dear Bill! I like you, so I will provide you with options... You can either ask Ismelda for a kiss or... you can kiss a garden gnome’s tummy!

Y/N and Talbott simultaneously snorted into their butterbeer glasses, almost choking on the drink. Bill, on the other hand, looked like someone had just asked him to drink a cup of newt’s goo.

- What bloody hell is this, Tonks ?? - he howled from annoyance and smashed his fists on the table. - There are NO gnomes in here!

- Most certainly there are. - Tonks replied calmly. - Take a peak at that table in the corner.

The table in the corner was taken up by Hagrid. He was quietly cooing with a small potato-like creature he had brought to the pub - apparently in secret from Rosmerta. At this very moment, he was feeding colorful Bertie Botts beans to the gnome.

- Merlin's saint underwear! - Y/N whispered reverently - It looks like Hagrid knitted a suit for him ...

And surely so, if one was to look closely, the gnome was dressed in a blue sweater and coarse-knit socks that were almost reaching the creature's thighs (if garden gnomes have thighs, of course). By some unknown coincidence, the gnome had no pants at all.

Bill looked at Tonks with the most touching expression Y/N had ever seen in his eyes.

- Can we play without the kisses?

- Hey, come on. I'm not asking you to kiss a Dementor, aren’t I? - Tonks just laughed in response.

(read here if you want Bill to kiss Ismelda)

I can't believe I'm doing this. - Bill shook his head. - I'll go out there and ask Ismelda for a kiss.

Charlie delightfully roared "Hallelujah!" and let a few green sparks out of the end of his wand. Tulip, Y/N and Tonks began to synchronously thump on the table and whisper: “Smooch! Smooch! Smooch! Smooch!”... Talbott threw his hands behind his head and settled himself more comfortably on the bench, getting ready for the spectacle.

... As a prisoner goes to be executed on a guillotine, that is how Bill Weasley was approaching Ismelda. The Slytherin gal was chatting with her fellow students at the bar.

- Check it out, it looks like she noticed him ... - Tulip started to comment on the action. - He’s telling her something ... great, they have contact! Come on, come on ....

- I almost feel sorry for him now - announced Charlie.

- Never let me forget this, ok? - Talbott smiled lazily.

Nobody else had the time to add anything because in the next second, the pub was filled with Ismelda’s shrilly wails, immediately followed by the ones of Bill. The girl, as one might expect, went absolutely berserk at Bill’s proposal and wacked him in the eye with all her mighty strength.

- Left hook! Fa-la-la…. A punch to the stomach! Fa-la-la ... And our hero returns ho-o- ome! .. - friends began chanting Bill's name merrily, with no tune or tempo whatsoever, which attracted even more attention to the oldest Weasley.

- Somebody please tell me why I became friends with a bunch of brainless doxies.. - Bill muttered under his breath as he was sitting down. He tried to say it with the most serious expression there is, but all the while his lips were quivering from a suppressed smile.

(read here if you want Bill to kiss the gnome)

- I can't believe I'm doing this. - Bill shook his head. - I choose to kiss Hagrid’s gnome.

- On the tummy! - abruptly corrected him Tonks. - Otherwise, you'll have to redo the dare!

- His tummy looks like pumice, did you know that? It’s crusty and hard and got some weird flakes falling off of it… And it smells just like my Great Aunt Tessie’s feet! - Bill exclaimed in anger.

- Stop whining! Just go already. While we sit here and enjoy ... - one could hear pure delight in Charlie’s voice as he was (for once) telling his older brother off.

Bill let out a sad sigh, got up from the table and started to make his way towards Hagrid. Apparently, the giant was not very happy to see him - the garden gnome would be considered quite a contraband for Madam Rosmerta, and she could forever ban Hagrid from The Three Broomsticks.

- Crickey, it's starting now! - excitedly squeaked Tulip.

The company stared at the show unfolding in front of them without blinking.

- Ah, it seems that the birds started chirping, can you hear? - Talbott said quietly.

- Fountains are sparkling, little hearts are flying in the air! - continued Y/N.

- Oh gosh, oh look! Oh, he’s kissing him!

As a matter of fact, it seemed like the angels themselves started crooning the moment Bill's lips softly touched the gnome’s belly button.

The friends doubled over with mirth. Tonks laughed so hard that butterbeer and snot started spewing from her nose.

But the gnome, as it occurred, did not like being distracted from his bean feast at all. The creature got even more upset as all the boundaries of his personal space were violated, and probably that’s why he suddenly growled and bit Bill’s nose. "Crunch!" - the sound echoed throughout the pub. Bill angrily yowled and burst out in obscenities. Now all the eyes in the pub were watching in his direction only.

- Yeh… What are yeh doing?! Stahp scaring the baby ... - Hagrid said gruffly and hid the gnome in his pocket. - Go back to yer’ friends, now, or he’ll start molting from stress .. And tis’ the worst, you know ...

Bill returned to their table, still rubbing his swollen nose in frustration.

- Oh, hey, Father Christmas! Did you bring us any gifts? - Charlie mused.

- I brought you a whipping, reptiloids... - Bill replied with the most serious face he could make, but his lips were quivering from a barely suppressed smile.

* * *

It was getting dark. While the group of friends was drinking and enjoying themselves at the pub, Hogsmeade was slowly being enveloped by velvet darkness. One after the other, the stars were lighting up. Here and there, windows of little shops and huts were blossoming in shades of orange. The garlands and wreaths, untouched after the holidays, were glittering with frost. Now there was cheerful music emerging from Madame Rosmerta's pub - those were the local musicians. They were playing flute, lute and tambone. One of the guests, who had a pig's snout instead of a nose, joined the musicians and started to grunt and beat on the drum. Many visitors picked up this joyous tune and began clapping and tapping to the beat - slowly at first, then faster and louder. One of the guests - a bubbly witch dressed in a lilac robe and a pointed hat - jumped from her chair, knocking over a mug of fiery whiskey, and began to dubstep dashingly with a goblin in a tweed jacket.

- Wowza, it's getting hot in here, - Bill said, wiping his beer mustache away. - Let's have the last round and head back. Talbott and Charlie, now it's your turn.

- My pleasure, - replied Talbott and drew a card.

Charlie drew a card with a higher suit.

- A perfect ending for a perfect day! As you can see, I'm a man of many talents, not only Quidditch. - Charlie boasted and gracefully ran his hand through his hair.

- Uh, yeah, except that quidditch sucks, - Talbott raised his eyebrows.

- You suck! - Charlie blurted.

- Mmm ... not as much as quidditch. - smirked Ravenclaw in response.

The young Weasley's cheeks turned so red that one could easily fry eggs on them if they wanted.

- Fine. Okay. If you do hate quidditch that much, maybe you’d care more for dancing? I dare you, Talbott Winger, to go out there and have the best time of your life on the dancefloor - yes, IN FRONT of the musicians! But of course I can’t let you suffer alone - sarcastically added Charlie. - Go ahead and invite someone to dance with you… if they agree to dance with a haircut like yours, that is.

Talbott squinted his eyes and examined Charlie’s face in disbelief.

- Uhhh ... I look cool.

- Pffft. Whatever you say. - the redhead let out a cheesy grin.

- I say I look cool. - Talbott replied calmly.

Tulip and Tonks audibly snorted.

- Now then… Who will be the lucky one to have the ultimate all-inclusive Talbott Winger experience? - asked Bill and started to tap his fingers on the table. The rest of the group picked on this beat and joined Bill, making the sound be a very accurate drum roll.

- Hmmm ... I know just who to take on this adventure. Y/N... would you like to dance with me? - asked Talbott and offered her a hand - I promise not to step on your toes more than three times.

- Oh? I thought you “fly solo”... - teased him Y/N as she was taking his hand and getting up from the table.

Talbott didn’t answer, just sighed and rolled his eyes at her.

The two entered the dance floor in an uncertain and shy manner. A new festive holiday song was just beginning. Another vocalist stepped onto the stage, bowed, and dimmed the pub lights with Nox . He then casually flicked his wand, created a few golden and silver wandering pellets of light, and then sent them floating around the pub. Soon, the music began to play, and the vocalist started singing in a heart-warming voice:

Last Christmas, I gave you my Hippogriff,

But the very next day, you gave it away...

Y/N felt that the majority of gazes were directed at her and Talbott - not at the singing wizard. What a strange feeling - to be in the spotlight. It got very hot; she felt a few sweat drops form and slide down her forehead. Talbott looked at Y/N with a weird expression on his face. He seemed to be slightly uncomfortable, too. Without changing his bewildered expression, he took Y/N's hands and placed them on his shoulders, then dropped his hands on her waist.

- Talbott ... I hope you know what you’re doing? - Y/N inquired quietly.

- What kind of question is this, of course I don’t know what I’m doing. - said Talbott with feigned confidence.

- Now I get it. You're winging it, Winger!

Both dancers burst out laughing. The tension was released. They began to move, jump and spin to the beat of the music. And even Merula's screams about how they looked like two prancing warty frogs could not spoil their mood. Maybe they weren't professionals and had no idea what they were doing, but they were having a lot of fun together.

The song ended. To Y/N’s great surprise, there was an applause from the audience! Someone from the crowd even threw them a bright, fragrant bouquet of orchids, freshly conjured from the air.

- For the record, I hate dancing. But it wasn’t all that horrible with you around. - Talbott said bashfully. - Maybe I should have gathered my courage and should have gone to the Celestial ... you know ...

Talbott and Y/N returned to the table, slightly out of breath after the dance and still holding hands. “Two brooos !! chilling at the Three Broomsticks! Five feet apart ‘cause they’re not friends!” - the others hollered and cheered and greeted the two back.

- Will you just shut up?.. - chuckled Y/N as she was letting Talbott's warm hand go.

* * *

It was time to return back to the castle. Friends were getting dressed in silence. All their wet clothes had almost dried up by the fire, and for those pieces that weren’t dry yet, they used their wands. Before leaving the pub, Y/N gave the bouquet to Madam Rosmerta. At the very exit, Trelawney's warnings came back to Y/N. It was so scary to think that on this night, according to the prophecy, she would lose a friend, and so she chased those thoughts away. As soon as the group stepped outside, contrast between the warm pub and icy cold air made them cough. Sniffing and cursing from freezing weather, they rushed towards Hogwarts down the snow-cleared path. This night was especially quiet: there was only the sound of snow creaking under their feet, and from time to time there came a bird’s distant cry.

- Bloody hell, we never bought anything, - Charlie complained in annoyance.

- Well… Let it burn, then. It will just be added to that list of four hundred things I have to do tomorrow ... or the day after ... or after.. or after .... - Tonks answered him with a loud yawn.

Friends were already approaching the doors of the castle when Talbott deliberately started to slow down. He stopped right in front of a path fork that was turning off the main road and leading to the owlery.

- Ummm... I need to send a letter to someone, - he said shyly, milling about the path. - Care to join me, Y/N?

“Hmm .. that’s a strange request, it’s practically nighttime... Something is fishy (pardon me, birdy) here.” - Y/N thought in her head, but out loud she only said:

- Uhh .. okay, sure. Let’s go.

After all, Talbott was her friend, and she had no reason to mistrust him.

The group of friends said their goodbyes and parted ways. Talbott and Y/N turned to the owlery. Tulip was waving at them a very long time after that, until their silhouettes blurred out, enclosed by the veil of snow.

Several minutes had passed since Talbott and Y/N were alone together. They were strolling down the path and talking about all sorts of things that happened during the past few days. The two of them were approaching the little towers of the Owlery rather quickly, and now only a small meadow was separating them from a brick staircase leading upstairs. In the summertime, the meadow was blooming with daisies and dandelions and was serving as a perfect playground for Puffskeins and Knarls. But now, the meadow seemed to have stopped in time: bare bushes were the only thing that was left from thick flowering plants; icy ground was tightly intertwined with fallen grass and wrapped in snowdrifts. Here and there, towered a few cedar pines, spruces, and chestnuts, but now they all were covered with white snow dust. For some reason, Talbott stopped walking towards the Owlery when they reached this meadow, and he began searching for something in his pockets. Finally, judging by the way his face lit up, he found what he was looking for. Aloof animagus beckoned Y/N closer. He was clutching something in his fist. As soon as Y/N approached, he opened his hand; there were two small luminous grains lying on his palm.

- What are these, Talbott? - said Y/N in quiet astonishment.

- These are midnight mint seeds, - he replied. - Professor Sprout gave them to me this Christmas.

- I have never heard of them…

- These are very rare. They can only be harvested once a year from underneath ash flowers. In places where you plant them, blood will never be shed again. - Talbott remarked in a lowered voice.

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at the grains. They seemed alive.

- Don't be afraid, touch them.

Y/N carefully raised her hand above the luminous grains and covered them with it.

- They’re warm! - not expecting that, Y/N let out a smile from ear to ear.

Talbott nodded. He looked straight into her eyes.

- I kept looking for an opportunity to plant them. Today seemed very special to me, and I decided to do it now. With you. If you want to.

- I ... of course I do! - Y/N’s cheeks and neck were rapidly getting covered with blush. - But aren't seeds planted in the fall?

- Not these. These should be planted in winter. They can only be planted under snow.

Y/N and Talbott knelt down and started preparing the soil for the seeds. They dug up a sufficient amount of snow, and then carefully placed glowing grains onto dead grass. They covered them with several layers of grey leaves and twigs, and then put a dense snow blanket above it all. But even through all these layers, the magic light of the seeds was shining through. Moreover, it seemed to have intensified and was now pulsating. For a brief instant, the pulsation stopped, and little blue stars began to emerge from under the snow, where the seeds were planted - similar to mini-fireworks. The stars took off and fell, crumbling and shattering into smaller pieces and dust. But the most spectacular thing that two friends were now hearing was... singing. It was a wonderful, calm and solemn melody without words. It was sung by the grains! Y/N had never heard such music before; she felt how her heart was opening up because of this melody. If someone had looked out of the Owlery window at that moment, then through the veil of a starting blizzard, they would have only distinguished a soft blue light illuminating two young faces floating above it.

The singing ceased; the blue light also faded away. Friends were silent for a minute, as if they were afraid to destroy the soothing feeling that the magical grains have produced within them. Finally, Talbott said in a hushed voice :

- You know, I didn’t actually need to send any letters. I just wanted to spend some time with you but without those dorks. So ... Thank you for being here with me.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he was smiling softly at Y/N.

- It was my pleasure, - she answered quietly.

Talbott rose and brushed the snow off his knees. He then reached out his palms towards Y/N to help her get up, but he did not let go of them after that.

- There was something else. Care for one more dance with me?

For the second time during that evening, Y/N and Talbott were dancing together. But this time it was so much different than it was in the pub!! Instead of all the noise and din of The Three Broomsticks, soft spruce paws were playing them a silent symphony of winter. It was a melody of silence, a melody of bright joy, a melody of snowflakes and wind. This melody cannot be heard unless one would actively try to listen to it. The snow was falling inaudibly. It was cascading from the sky in large flakes, performing a couple of waltz motions with the dancers, and then laying down on the ground and sparkling merrily under their feet. These instants were filled with a sense of miracle: without any magic or magic wands.

- You know, dancing like this is so much better than having to dance while hundreds of thousands of eyes are staring at you. - Y/N noted.

- Agreed.

Gradually, without noticing it themselves, two friends stopped dancing. They were now standing across each other, looking at individual snowflakes on their faces and hair. Every now and then, several small crystals would shiver and gravitate down, but they would never reach the ground as they would melt in a cloud of frosty haze from their mouths. It was very quiet now. Soft light was being reflected from snow and onto their cheeks, flushed from the cold.

- We might freeze this way. - said Talbot, slightly smiling.

Slowly and gently, he unwound his blue and silver scarf and wrapped it around his own neck first, and then around Y/N's neck; now their heads were even closer to each other, connected by knitted threads. Y/N could see his face much more clearly now. She could see glitter in his brown eyes, his every eye lash, every mole, she could smell the herbal scent of his shampoo ... she could even feel the warmth of his breath.

- What I actually wanted to tell you, Y/N, - Talbott said softly, - is that the longer I think about it, the more it seems to me that professor Trelawney was right about her prophecy.

- H-how do you mean? - stuttered Y/N.

- You’re about to lose a friend because I don't think ... I don't think that I can stay friends with you any longer ... I want to be much more than that, - Talbott whispered and leaned over toward Y/N's lips and kissed her.

It was a light, subtle kiss, but Y/N could clearly feel the warmth gently spreading among her skin. And then, another kiss followed … and one more ... and one more.

All the while, the snow was falling - soundlessly, tirelessly, tenderly.

* * *

Much later, after going back to her dorm in the Gryffindor Tower, Y/N had been sitting on a windowsill for a very, very long time. She was looking through a window, wreathed by frost: at the icy lake, at never-ending fields, covered with silver and at the...

First snow.

[beyoncesdragon]

Aaaaaaaaah Babee i need part 2 of “Over now” please please 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hello sweet anon! 💕🥺 Well...because you asked so sweetly, i decided to write this for u...I hope you like this. Just know that Over now never meant to have a sequel, means when I wrote it, I kinda sabotaged myself by making it hard to...turn around. HOWEVER, please tell me what you think:) All the love, Nica💘

Over Now pt.2 (Sirius Black) 

Requested: yes! 

Warnings: the big sad, fluff, my writing 

Summary: Love always hurts at some point. Not always immediately, at least not with Sirius. But granted that at some point, love hurts. This is how it went.

My Masterlist

Part 1

Sirius wasn’t sure what exactly it was or when it happened. He just knew that that giggling on the seat next to him had to stop, about right now. Before, he had not really taken notice of it, not really. Yet however…it annoyed him to no end. As he looked over to his right, it finally struck him; she annoyed him. Sweet, cute little Marls annoyed him to the point where he would’ve almost left the table early. Remus almost immediately picked up on Sirius’ change of demeanour (James was currently occupied with sneakily casting hiccup spells towards the Slytherin-table), the sudden frown that appeared on his pretty face and how tense he suddenly sat there. His unfinished piece of roasted chicken slowly sunk back down to his plate as he gave Marlene and Lily an annoyed glance.  Sirius couldn’t help himself but roll his eyes as they broke out in loud giggling over seemingly absolutely nothing again. Or maybe poor Ted Griffin, a sixth grade Ravenclaw that had somehow been cursed with the girls attention. And when Marlene suddenly leaned over, affectionately draping her arm around his shoulders, Sirius felt as if he would have to explode. He shrugged her arm off and got up, immediately earning a surprised look from Marlene. Remus merely looked up at him, he simply exchanged a meaningful look with James (who now had successfully caused enough trouble to turn back to his friends).

As Sirius stumbled up towards the common room, in a hurry he could not quite explain himself, his thoughts were all over the place. All over the place and with you, somehow. Not that they ever fully left you, how could they. After all, you still were important to him and the time spent together was nowhere near forgotten. Barely muttering the password he staggered into the common room, past the fire place and the comfy sofas and arm chairs, past the deserted tables and stacked up books and parchment. There was almost no one around, apart from…Sirius stopped dead on his tracks, almost like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and glued on your frame. You just came rushed down the stairs from the girls dormitory, in a visible rush to get to dinner. You were already half an hour late and incredibly hungry. And you had promised your girlfriends to finally spend dinner with them again, it’s been a rough six days you had not joined them. When your eyes found Sirius, you as well stopped. But it wasn’t as abrupt as Sirius though, you held yourself with a more elegance. Maybe not confidence, seeing him still hurt more than you wanted to process. But looking at Sirius…he suddenly seemed to cope with it even worse. His eyes were still wide, now glassy and his face had lost almost all colour. He looked incredibly…lost all of a sudden. The silence was deafening around the two of you, tension as thick as the black liquorice pudding they always served on Halloween. Why none of you said something was not entirely clear: you had not parted in a bad way, no cheating, no fight. Just a bitter breakup. You had no reason to hate him, not really a reason why you should be mad at him. And he had no reason not to talk to you. He never despised you, had never been annoyed by you or felt mistreated. Still, silence. Until you finally cleared your throat, forced a smile on your face and nodded at him. Then you left, as quickly as possible and out of breath. Why you were out of breath you couldn’t tell; maybe because the tension had been too thick to breathe properly, or maybe it was because your throat had tightened up with a lump the second you saw him.

But Sirius? Oh Sirius was worse. After the quick encounter with you, he felt like someone punched him in a gut. Immediately after he entered his shared dorm, he crawled into his bead, pulled the curtains shut and buried his face in his hands.

He missed you.

It was a painful realisation, but not one that came out of the blue. First, he had just thought that it maybe was just him feeling sorry for you. Because he did, he felt sorry for you and he felt like an ass for breaking your heart like that. He hated making people cry, especially if he cared about them. And he cared about you, greatly. He never actually intended to just completely cut all strings but at the same time, he had not dared to somehow approach you. How could he even? It wasn’t his place to try to be friends with you, you had to be ready first. He had even hesitantly talked with Moony about it; hesitantly because he hurt as well, and because it had been two in the morning and Remus threatened to fall asleep even whilst he was talking.

But he missed you so much.

It was as if he lived through all the phases of grief at once. He couldn’t believe this was really it. He couldn’t, he didn’t wanted to. It was as if the time that had passed would mock him for his sudden low. It’s been a week, had it not? Sirius couldn’t think straight about it. With every breath he took he grew more and more angry at himself. He’d been stupid, wasted away in a crush, threw away what was so much more meaningful than a crush. Every angry breath he took seemed to cut off more and more of his airways until he found himself clinging to a series of short, forced breaths. Then sadness came, like a blue, thick silky wave. As soft as she was, she as well seemed to choke him the second she arrived. And with the sadness and the regret there came the memories: your scrunched nose when he first ran into you and ruined your notes, the grin when you watched him set up one of the marauders pranks, the little specks of colour in your eyes when the sunlight hit them right. He remembered how sweet you smelled and tasted, he remembered the feeling of resting his head in the curve of your neck and the tickle of your hair. He remembered your groggy voice in the mornings and your sleepy gestures of affection when you had too little sleep. He remembered you telling him how you loved him. He remembered always saying it back…until one time where he had not. He remembered the worry in your face when he told you that he had to talk with you about something. And he remembered the terror and hurt in your eyes before he turned around and left the classroom.

It got even harder to breathe when his mind wandered back to the moment in the common room. You still looked like you cried every night, but a bit better. You still looked hurt but yet more confident. You still looked like home to Sirius. But a home he had abandoned.

He jumped up, pushed the curtains of his four poster bed aside in a hurry and stormed out of the dorm. He needed air, he needed space just somewhere…

James, Remus and Peter were just about to approach the door and jumped back at the sight of Sirius storming out. James called after him, but Sirius wouldn’t even turn around before he disappeared.

He was gone for hours now. The three friends were concerned, (James not so much, simply because he knew about Sirius ability to get through about everything) they had looked for him everywhere. Sirius had taken the map with him, so they couldn’t even look him up there. There was one place where Remus suspected he could be. But that spot was sacred, for Sirius and well…you.

Remus felt shame bolt through his body as he looked over to you, curled up in one of the chairs around the fireplace. You were reading a book, Jinxes for the Jinxed, he meant to recognise. He knew it would be unfair approaching you about Sirius. He knew it would be wrong, not his or anyone’s place to now ask you to look for him. To look out for his wellbeing after you had struggled so much and were still struggling with the break up. It felt wrong even talking to you about Sirius’ possible feelings. But you were the only one Sirius would tolerate right now, so Remus assumed. So he went over, red cheeks of embarrassment and unable to meet your eyes once.

The air grew cold and colder as you stepped started to climb up the spiral staircase of the astronomy tower. You were out of breath from the fast pace you set for yourself as you exited the common room and headed straight towards where you knew he would be. The two of you had often spend your time here, cuddled up on the highest tower of the castle, as close as possible to the stars above you. You almost always had to sneak back, using the marauders map to track down Filch and patrolling professors, since you often got lost in time and stayed way past curfew. McGonagall once almost caught the two of you, but you somehow got away last pretty sure that she knew exactly who she was dealing with, but simply chose to turn a blind eye.

Sirius sat by the balustrade, feet dangling over the edge and the gaping black. He had heard you approach, of course he had. However, he couldn’t turn around. His shoulders visibly tensed up though, his gaze however remained somewhere in the far distance. He had his arms placed on the lower iron railing, his head rested right on to of them. From behind you wouldn’t be able to tell if he cried or not, but truth was that his face was stained with silent tears. Only when you walked closer, stopped behind him, unsure of what to do, he finally turned to you. Again, this thick, heavy silence poured over the two of you and hovered in the air around you. It was like the clingy smell of cigarette smoke, seemingly impossible to drive out and everywhere. Finally, Sirius rose his gaze, eyes meeting yours. And as he looked up to you, tousled curls and vibrant red lips from chewing them to bits, paired with his red rimmed eyes, a beautiful mess, you connected again. It was a weird, raw and vulnerable moment, a moment where somehow, in between all this grief, anger and hurt, all the love the two of you still felt for each other, gleamed up. Not gleamed like a star, more like a shy, hesitant candle after a cold blow. Greatly struggling to stand up straight again but still burning. As you dropped down next to him, carefully extending your hand for him to take it, the air around the two of you changed completely. It was no longer tense – though still rich with unsaid truths – it now was now calm and more vulnerable. He gripped your hand wordlessly, almost desperately intertwining his fingers with yours. His were icy and stiff, a sharp contrast to your warm hands.

“I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t quite clear for what Sirius was apologizing: him breaking up with you or for still being in love with you, perhaps for dragging you back into his mess or giving his superficial crush on Marlene so much weight. But whatever it was, you carefully leaned towards him, placing your head on his shoulders. You did not know what to respond anyways, but what was there left to respond?

Now, a relationship always hurts someone, doesn’t it?

And this time, Sirius Black, was the one.

But hurt passes, right? And with you on his side…maybe faster than anyone could predict.  

[gabriel4sam]

Three is a magical number, or how Bail Organa wasn’t on Coruscant on the most important day of the Republic

A little Bail/Breha/Obi-Wan fic, written for  EclipseMidnight (EternalEclipse) in  @swrarepairs​ beta-ed by @wrennette​

It all started when someone tried to murder Obi-Wan Kenobi. An inconvenient event, but not exactly a rare one. And from there, it all snowballed until three lovers found each other and Bail Organa, who had never missed a Senate session since his election, wasn’t even on Coruscant the day the fate of the Republic was decided.

All of this started without fanfare.

Well, it started with an explosion, but that was the usual. Where Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker went, and before that where Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi went, things exploded, from ships to space stations to (only once) a poor Hutt who had swallowed a grenade.

No, what needs to be remembered is that it started exactly like a lot of days started for Obi-Wan Kenobi. Someone tried to kill him. There was nothing strange about that, nothing unusual.

Someone tried to kill him and Obi-Wan didn’t even bother to act surprised. Since the first day he had stepped out of the Temple, in theory to go to the Agricorps, it had happened a lot.

So, when a warning in the Force had given him just enough time to toss the two clones with him on the shuttle into the nearest building through a window before the explosion, he hadn’t been surprised.

(On a totally unrelated note, those two clones met on this occasion the owner of the flat they had unceremoniously entered through said window and would later ran away with her to parts unknown and be very happy, but this is not their story.)

No, this story is about Obi-Wan and the insufficient time he had had to toss himself properly into safety after the clones, and about the Senator he had a meeting scheduled with that day.

A meeting Obi-Wan didn’t attend, being unconscious and in the hands of the Healers.

Bail Organa, who chaired that particular sub-committee about war refugees, was too fine a politician to let even the shadow of a moment of surprise show on his face when, only five minutes late because the Jedi were nothing but efficient, the door opened and a Jedi entered the room.

A Jedi, but not the one he was waiting for, unless Obi-Wan Kenobi had far more talent for disguise than Bail thought. As everybody took their places with the usual unnecessary level of noise, he observed the unknown Jedi from the corner of his eye. A Mirialan woman, wearing dark colours. Age had slightly hunchbacked her, she was perhaps eighty years old, probably more, but her eyes were clear, sparkling with will. Oh, what did Bail know, she could be somewhere between eighty years old and two hundred, for all he knew! Bail wasn’t very good at guessing people's ages, and Jedi were quite tricky on that matter.

He refocused on the days subject and stood up to introduce the first speaker. The Jedi Order’s envoy was only here to observe today, and the change of their representative could wait for later.

At the end of the meeting, Bail ditched another Senator trying to convince him to go to lunch, and bowed to the Jedi.

“Senator Bail Organa,” he introduced himself to the Mirialan woman, and she bowed in return.

“Your actions have made you well-known, Senator,” she said, “and House Organa’s long term friendship and help to our Order is even more known, and appreciated. I am Master Cyslin Myr.”

“It is an honor for this sub-comittee to have you attending our meetings,” Bail said, more on autopilot than anything.

“I appreciate your kindness, Senator, especially for an old Jedi you weren’t waiting for.”

“Master Myr-“

“No, no, you don’t have to be ashamed. Our Obi-Wan makes quite a sensation on the holonet, of course, and every sub-committee in need of a Jedi will  imagine its importance rising if the Negotiator himself is on board, you could say. The Order understands it, of course, and we play the game, no matter how frustrating it can be, because it is the way of democracy. Nevertheless, my former Padwan told me your interest in Master Kenobi is more than professional?”

“Friendship, Master, there is a shared friendship between Master Kenobi and myself, dare I say.”

“Then, Senator, I have bad news.”

****

It was rare that people who weren’t Jedi were allowed to step into the Healing Halls. Jedi had no family outside the Order after all, a clean slate from the moment they entered the nursery. Friendship was of course permitted, but it wasn’t usually close enough for visits.

Bail Organa knew all of that and he wisely didn’t comment on the invitation Master Myr had offered, like it would jinx it and he wouldn’t be permitted to see Obi-Wan.

His friend had always had the complexion of a fair maiden in a holodrama, he was a red head after all, but he was quite ashen that day, even the lips.

“I don’t understand,” Bail said to the Healer, a stern Twilek Jedi, after contemplating the unconscious man a few minutes, “I believed Jedi healing was almost immediate.”

“It is,” the Master said grimly. “Master Kenobi had been healed from the internal bleeding, the torn ligaments and the broken bones. Like he had been, three days ago, when he came back from a mission with damage to his neck. And two weeks before that, with a crushed leg. And the week before, directly from the field, with a shoulder wound, and-“

“I think I understand, Master Jedi, the list is unnecessary. At the Senate, we’re quite aware of the blood the Jedi spill for the war effort.”

“That’s not the impression we have,” the Healer commented, her tone harsher that Bail was used to from one of the warrior-monks.

“It will be enough, Master Che,” a voice said, and Bail turned to it and immediately bowed very low, this time more with great respect than out of habit. He had come to know Mace Windu in the Senate, and the man deserved his admiration and frankly more help than he usually received from Bail’s colleagues. Sometimes, Bail had the frustrating thought that the Jedi would have stopped the war long ago if the politicians didn’t get in their way so much.

“Walk with me,” Mace Windu said, and Bail half-turned to Obi-Wan in surprise, because the poor man was so pale, he looked like he would go into the Force if someone didn’t watch over him. And Bail had always been a bit of a mother hen with his friends.

A small smile played on the severe face of Master Windu, taking away a few years, and he added:

“I can assure you, Obi-Wan is in good hands in our Halls, and my Master will even keep him company.”

Bail hadn’t even seen the frail silhouette of Master Myr, behind the impressive shoulders of the Master of the Order. He hadn’t even known she had been Mace Windu’s master and he realized, as he saw her sitting down next to the bed, that it hadn’t been a coincidence which brought her as Obi-Wan’s replacement to the sub-committee. Mace Windu had sent her, as a way to bring Bail at Obi-Wan’s bedside in a way that seemed only a natural sequence of coincidences. He looked closer at Master Windu. He knew the keen intelligence behind those black eyes. It certainly wasn’t compassion that had made Mace Windu take the time to bring one Senator to one Jedi’s bedside. Not that he was devoid of sympathy, but he had better things to do with his time in these difficult war years.

So, Bail’s first question, once they were walking in the Room of the Thousand Fountains, was straight to the point: “What can I do for you and for the Order, Master Windu?”

Bail could have wrapped it up in other questions, or let Mace Windu arrive to the point slowly, but he was pretty sure the other man was even busier than Bail, and it would have been almost insulting to the long tradition linking the Order and the Organa family, to pretend he wouldn’t give what they wanted of him. He trusted that man enough to know Mace Windu would never ask something that wasn’t honourable.

“Obi-Wan’s mind isn’t healing the way it should,” Mace Windu said instead of the request Bail was waiting for. “It happens sometimes, when the body had been through a quick succession of grievous wounds and fast healing. He is one of our best Generals and we aren’t numerous enough anymore for the task the Republic ask of us. I grieve the fact that many of us have been returned too soon to the field, after being healed.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised, Master Windu, and everything I can do to lessen the tasks of the Order…”

“I know,” Mace Windu said, and once again, that quick half-smile, “but what I will ask you will be easier than what you imagine. I want you to take Obi-Wan to Alderaan.”

“It …yes, of course, but I must confess-“

“You were imagining yourself playing defector and spying on the Separatists?”

“Almost. And…not that we don’t have very good medicine on Alderaan, but isn’t the best care for Obi-Wan here?”

“His body is healed. He should even awaken in a few days. But his mind will need time, time he wouldn’t take here. And I have another reason to ask you, something that you’ll need to discuss with your security officer. This morning, when Obi-Wan was stable and sleeping, a droid entered the Temple through the vents. It was a vicious little thing, and it went directly to Master Kenobi. If Master Che hadn’t forgotten her set of healing crystals in his room and arrived just in time to disable the droid, he would have joined the Force.”

“Someone tried to assassinate Obi-Wan in the Temple ?!” Bail blurted in surprise, and his chest felt tight, despite the wonderful scent of plants in the air and the singing of the fountains.

“Yes. He is a ferocious warrior, I don’t need to tell you that, as you undertook that terrible mission with him a few months ago. The perpetrator simply decided that, since Obi-Wan was vulnerable, it was the right time to finish the job. When he couldn’t defend himself. It was probably the same perpetrator who exploded the shuttle he was on, and your security officers need to be aware of the circumstances. Even if we, the Council, hope that sending Obi-Wan away from Coruscant will be enough for his - for his enemies to redirect their plotting in another direction.”

“You aren’t talking about Separatist spies on Coruscant, are you? You are talking about the Sith Lord.”

Bail could feel the Jedi tensing up, like a physical feeling; like an ancient, animal part of his brain, had suddenly registered the other man not as the pleasant being he had met dozens of time, but as a predator, ready to pounce. Mace Windu stopped walking and studied Bail’s face with an off-putting attention. Jedi sometimes had predatory gazes, not very comfortable for the one under scrutiny. In the Senate, Bail had seen grizzled politicians fold under Master Windu’s eyes like houses of cards under a strong wind.

“Obi-Wan’s lips are looser than they are supposed to be,” The Master commented finally.

“Oh, it wasn’t Obi-Wan,” Bail said, before closing his mouth so hard his teeth hurt. It was a Junior Senator’s mistake, saying that. If Master Windu didn’t like that Bail knew about the Sith, he wouldn’t appreciate that it was Padmé Amidala who had told him, and he would like to know who had told Padmé!

Bail immediately carried on:

“I will prepare for departure immediately. My junior Senator will undertake my tasks in the Senate.”

Master Windu was kind enough to go along with that obvious change of topic.

“Thank you, Senator. You accomplish a great deal in the Senate and I know it certainly isn’t easy for a man like you to leave the arena for a time.”

“May I ask, you say what ails Obi-Wan happens sometimes…. What of the others? We can certainly house other Jedi if necessary.”

Mace Windu seemed surprised. How long had it been, since someone had offered help unasked to the Jedi Order? Offered more than was asked? The Jedi were always the ones helping, such was the way of the galaxy. Who helped those who helped the galaxy?

“I insist,” Bail said and Master Windu nodded, and that small smile made an appearance again. It was oddly endearing and Bail realized that he would like to become that man’s friend, and not only his ally. Perhaps he should send an invite for the next party they would have at Alderaan’s embassy…even if forcing Master Windu to spend more time with politicians could perhaps be seen as a declaration of war, more than an offer of friendship!

Ten hours later, Bail supervised the loading of a shuttle with tinted windows of ten Jedi, eight on stretchers including Obi-Wan. He thought the only mobile Jedi who would accompany them was a Mon Calamari Jedi Healer who introduced herself as Master Eerin, but at the last minute, the door of the platform opened and Master Myr herself came to the ship, followed by Master Windu, apparently in charge of her pack. Bail politely found something else to watch when the two said their goodbyes. In these times of war, there was no certainty the two Jedi would see each other again.

And Bail’s ship left for Alderaan.

Alderaan.

No matter how many worlds Bail visited, no other planet would ever compare.

Alderaan and the beauty of its mountains, the light playing on its lakes, the sweetness of its nights, the talents of its artists.

Alderaan, and its most precious jewel, his beloved wife Breha.

She waited for them at their arrival, something that touched Bail every time. He knew how busy her schedule was.

“Rooms have been prepared for your patients in the infirmary,” the Queen said to the two bowing Jedi, “separate from the other patients, to be sure your patients won’t pick up anything in the Force.” And to be sure any potential murderers wouldn’t risk unsuspecting civilians as collateral damage, but Breha was too smart to say that outdoors, where anyone could listen.

Even on Alderaan, the war was spreading caution.

Bail could have gone back to Coruscant, of course, but the idea of leaving the palace, even with all the guards, when some murderer could come to end one of their Jedi guests, was just impossible.

He had told the most important points to Breha already  over a secure line during their travel, but they came back to the subject once they had retired for the evening to their private rooms, nestled together on a couch.

“You did well,” Breha said, as she had before.

“Even if I brought someone that users of the Dark side of the Force could follow back to our home? Did I put our people in danger?"

She stroked his thighs, a gesture of comfort.

“Probably, but how could we spend our lives blind and deaf to the suffering of the galaxy, just for the hope that it would keep our people safe? And it wouldn’t really make Alderaan a safer place. History has taught us that the darkness you ignore because it covers others, will one day turn to you. We’ll advance the date of the last session of parliament, and it will empty a good part of the palace. And to be sure nobody thinks it’s about the Jedi, we’ll put that on my health.”

He kissed her hair, sagging into the mountain of pillows on the couch. Their rooms were the only place in the entire galaxy where he could really relax. With her, that woman he adored, Bail felt like he could stop playing Viceroy Organa, stop representing Alderaan.

“You’ll like him,” Bail said, to open a less depressing conversation.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi? I hope so. With all the compliments you’ve given him, I would be quite disappointed if he revealed himself to be boring, and your fascination only came from that thing you have for redheads.”

And Bail couldn’t do anything but laugh, because if there was one thing that Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t, it was boring, and Breha, beloved Breha, was even worse than him about red hair. The few lovers they had shared in the years of their marriage had been humans, or near humans, with red hair; and sometimes, when it was late and they were tired, they liked to talk about the possibility of finding one they wouldn’t just have for a few days. Someone who would stay.

Three was a sacred number, on Alderaan.

**********

The first Jedi, a Bothan female with the eyes of a great Krayt dragon, woke up thirty hours after their arrival, and the second Jedi two days later. One by one, the Jedi opened their eyes, or equivalent organs, in the calm haven of the palace.

Bail and Breha visited each and every one of them, to assure them of their welcome on Alderaan, to offer everything they could in terms of physiotherapy or simply time and a calm environment for them to finish healing. And every evening, they had Master Eerin and Master Myr dine at their table, as a way to reaffirm in the eyes of the court their support for the Jedi Order.

Breha loved to break her fast in the morning with the Jedi. Bail regularly endured, and that term wasn’t strong enough, work breakfasts with various ambassadors, politicians, and moguls of conglomerates. The medical specialists had dictated that Breha, with her failing health, shouldn’t be bothered so early in the day.

But the Jedi? There was pleasure in those simple moments with them. Alderaan had traditionally been their ally, but Breha had never really met one, and she began to appreciate them individually, as more than a great mass of beings with beige robes and strange powers whose objectives aligned with Alderaan’s.

The weeks passed slowly, and Breha emptied the palace the best she could, provoking an early recess for the parliament. The weeks passed and, last but not least, one fine morning, as the sun’s light slowly climbed over his face, Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up, a little disoriented since his last memories took place in a shuttle on fire, and he was waking up in a comfortable bed, on another planet, with the songs of the early birds in his ears. It was a real struggle to seek consciousness, like his body weighted too much, but finally, he opened his eyes, not sure if he was really awake or not.

Above his bed, a beautiful woman was leaning down. She had dark eyes and dark hair, and golden brown skin, and her smile was like the first touch of the Force.

“Welcome to Alderaan, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said, and Obi-Wan’s heart missed a few beats in its usual rhythm. The beautiful apparition had no time for more words, because Bant, dear Bant, rushed into the room to subject Obi-Wan to their usual dance where he affirmed that he was “quite fine” and she looked ready to burst at the gills for his bad faith and what she loved to call “gross negligence of his health.” They were old actors on a piece they had repeated so many times Obi-Wan could play his part in his sleep.

Later, when Obi-Wan was sleeping again, exhausted by the simple act of a meal, Breha lead Healer Eerin in the garden.

“Tell me about Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said to the young Jedi.

“I don’t know what your majesty want to know. Jedi’s lives are far less interesting than holodramas would let you believe.”

“It is impolite to contradict honoured guests, so I will pretend to believe you, but let it be known that I haven’t forgotten that Master Kenobi is here because people tried to kill him. Twice.”

“To be honest, it’s a terrible habit of Obi-Wan’s that not all our brethren share. Twice is a slow week, for him.”

“You have known him a long time?”

“Since we were no more than younglings in the creche. All my life, in fact.”

The Queen let a friendly hand touch Bant’s shoulder.

“It must be difficult, to see your brothers and sisters and others, risk their lives every day in this war, Master Kenobi and all the other Generals.”

For a second, Breha could have sworn she saw unshed tears in the Mon Calamari’s bulbous eyes, but the Jedi’s control made them disappear almost immediately. Together, they watched as Master Myr led the two Jedi patients who weren’t bed-ridden anymore in a very slow series of katas. The old Mirialan woman, who walked with a cane most of the time, showed a grace Breha found ethereal.

“My brethren who left us are in the Force,” Bant said finally, “and I find comfort in that fact. And in the fact that my patients brought here by your husband will heal better than on Coruscant. And they are safe, for now.”

“For now,” Breha agreed sadly, because the Bothan Jedi was already talking of leaving to join the war effort again. Since staying upright too long was exhausting for Breha, she sat down on a stone bench in a small alcove of vegetation, Bant hovering next to her.

After a moment of silence, observing together the katas, Bant started again:

“I know you have your own team of healers, but I would be honoured to have the permission to examine you, your Majesty.”

“Those are old problems, Master Jedi, it’s far too late to do anything about it. My medics help me manage my pain levels.”

“I am sure they are excellent professionals, your Majesty. The level of dedication and professionalism I’ve seen in your people since our first day here is excellent. But Force Healing is….it is Other. I won’t lie and say I will snap my fingers and everything will suddenly be perfect. But, as a sign of our gratitude, I would like to help.”

Breha’s throat tightened. Years of chronic health problems had made her suspicious of hope. Because of that, she had given up her dear dream of a child. Because of that, she had had to put more duties than were traditionally the consort’s job on Bail’s shoulders. Because of that, her everyday life was a careful calculation, between her needs and her duties.

“Now,” Breha said. “Now, before I change my mind. Hope is quite a dangerous drug.”

Bant bowed very low and she offered her arm to the Queen to go back to the medical wing.

The next day, Obi-Wan awoke at dawn again and felt good enough for a few steps in the sun, with Bant’s arm around his waist.

“Who was she? The woman at my bedside?” he asked. Not first. Because he was a Jedi, so he asked about his Padawan. Because he believed in democracy, he asked about the latest negotiations. Because he was a General, he asked about the war.

But the first question he asked for himself was that one.

“The Queen of Alderaan, Breha Organa,” Bant answered, and Obi-Wan went pale, then red.

Since Bant knew him so well, she said nothing more. No need to trigger a furious desire to skedaddle.

At their return in the room, Bail was there.

“My friend,” Bail exclaimed, and to Obi-Wan’s surprise, Bail hugged him, more casual that the Jedi had ever seen him. Bail Organa gave excellent hugs, Obi-Wan decided, closing his eyes and indulging in a few seconds of his friend’s warmth. There was a goodness in this man that radiated in the Force and seemed to shine from him. Bail Organa was - he was safe and comforting and solid and careful with people, and Obi-Wan craved his presence, since they had become friends, in a way that sometimes made him feel quite ashamed.

“Master Myr and Master Eerin, and all the Jedi who have permission from the healers to leave their bed, are dining tonight in our wing of the palace,” Bail explained, “and I have come to invite you too, if Master Eerin give you her benevolent permission.”

“With pleasure, your Highness. I am even grateful to you. I would spend the meal worried Obi-Wan was slipping from his bed for dangerous adventures, if he wasn’t with us.”

“I am not so bad,” her old friend protested immediately.

“From what I have seen, you are,” Bail joked good-naturally, and Obi-Wan glared at him.

The Queen and her consort didn’t use the ceremonial rooms used for state dinners for the Jedi. Not that they didn’t want to honour their guests, but the few of them would have been lost in a room designed to seat easily four hundred people.

No, that night, like every other time the Jedi had shared their table, they dined in the private wing, in the room the couple used when their close family visited. As Breha looked at them, she realized it had stopped being a political statement, to have the Jedi had their table.

It had become friendship.

She loved discussing Mirialan literature with Master Myr. She appreciated young Master Eerin’s pragmatic attitude, and her dry humour. Even the Bothan Jedi, Master Knol Ven'nari, although frankly a little terrifying, was a fascinating being, full of anecdotes on the Outer Rim. Breha had found herself taking notes during their conversations, finding in them numerous ways to better the Republic’s relief efforts, in which Alderaan played a big part.

The efforts of Bant to help better Breha’s health weren’t exactly an impediment to liking the Jedi either. The Mon Calamari had never lied and pretended the Force could do miracles. It had been too long, since the beginning of Breha’s health problems, her body was too battle-worn, and Bant would probably be called back to Coruscant, or to the front, too soon. But in an afternoon of work, the Jedi had already helped Breha regain a part of her lost range of motion, in the neck. It was only a part of a normal range of motion, but it had felt enormous and even if the effects probably wouldn’t be permanent, Breha savoured every minor progress.

And tonight, for the first time, Obi-Wan Kenobi was at their table, too. He had the most beautiful eyes in person, Breha immediately noticed, something Bail hadn’t told her, and that the holo-images of him, everywhere in the Republic, didn’t really capture.

She placed him at the honoured place, on her right. He was…he was every bit a diplomat, well-read, charming, seductive, and not really letting anything true shine out.

“Did you like him?” Bail asked that night, as he was helping her shampoo her hair. She couldn’t raise her arms to do it herself anymore, and when he wasn’t on Alderaan, her handmaiden had to help. She preferred when it was Bail. With him, she didn’t think of every little thing her illness had taken from her. With him, it became almost a treat. He made it comforting or sensual, depending on their mood, but always, always good.

Tonight, she was definitely in a sensual mood. Bant’s healing had given her a boost of energy, and Bail’s hands in her hair were giving her ideas.

“He’s very charming,” she admitted, “but also very closed off. I don’t have the option of a dangerous life or death situation to break through his shell, like you had with him.”

“And thank the Three Goddesses for that.”

She turned to her husband, enticed him closer.

“You like him,” she singsonged.

“Alderaan and the Jedi….”

“No, my sweet, my love, you like him…”, she put her arms around his neck and immediately his hands went to her waist and he lifted her to set her on their bed. Their height difference was so great that it hurt her neck to kiss him standing up.

Bail kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her ear.

“Fine,” he admitted. “I’m attracted to a red headed warrior monk with a death-wish. I find his mind fascinating and his rear nicely shaped.”

“What would you do?” she asked. “If he was there with us?”

“I don’t know what his opinion is on triads, my dear. He has…he has a bit of a reputation in the Senate, so I know he isn’t celibate, but…”

“You, Bail Organa, you, you listened to gossip!? Oh, you like him even more than I thought!” Breha teased, and in revenge, he described in excruciating detail what he would do and encourage if Obi-Wan was there. Bail had quite the way with words, not very surprising for a politician, and he extended this talent into the bedroom.

And when he was finished explaining, he did a demonstration.

******************

Summer was soon in full force and the small Jedi contingent on Alderaan lost two of its members, back to the front. Bant still refused the others what Obi-Wan called their escape from custody .

Life in the hands of the Healers could be a tad boring, Obi-Wan had discovered long ago. It was for that particular reason that he spent so much time dozing off, and not, totally not, despite what Bant said, because he had an enormous sleep debt and a body working on years of abuse.

But on Alderaan, it was less boring. Every morning, since Obi-Wan was an early bird, Bail visited him before going to breakfast with various officials, and brought him interesting datapads from the palace library. The Senator always took the time to discuss what Obi-Wan thought of the ones he had already read. Bail was quite a passionate debate partner, especially since he had already read most of the contents of the library.

Every afternoon, the Queen came to the medical wing to put herself into Bant’s hands, and after, under Bant’s orders, she spent an hour in the sun in the garden, letting the Force healing’s effects settle into her body. She never slept, and she enjoyed Obi-Wan’s company in those moments. Little by little, she understood better her husband’s interest in the man. Perhaps it was also the effects on the Force healing that gave her rose tainted vision.

Once he wasn’t trying as hard to present the face of a perfect Jedi, Obi-Wan was still charming, but in an endearing way. He was passionate in his opinions, he was stubborn as the Force itself, he had a tendency to tell terrible jokes, and the worst sweet tooth Breha had ever seen. Little by little, Bant’s judicious help lessened old pains and unlocked joints, but Breha found herself more desirous of those conversations with Obi-Wan than of the sweet relief of Force Healing.

Another Jedi left them for the battlefield and when she bowed to Breha in her goodbye, the Queen felt her heart jumped in her chest. Soon, it would be Obi-Wan who would go. Every day, she knew, he had long holoconferences with his clone commander, and even longer holoconferences with his former Padawan, that didn’t seem to go very well. He felt guilty for being here, safe, with Breha and Bail, when his men were dying, when his brothers and sisters were fighting all across the Republic.

More than anyone, Breha understood duty. She knew its cost, her whose reign would steal years of her life, incompatible as it was with her health problems.

Still, when Obi-Wan laughed and joked, seated next to her in the sun, when a moan escaped him as he tasted a pastry, she wished she didn’t understand.

Obi-Wan liked Alderaan. He could say it was for the peaceful rest it had offered him, for the climate, for the comfortable bed and inexhaustible library. He could say it was for Bant’s smile, which he hadn’t seen since the beginning of the war, and that Alderaan had made bloom again. He could say it was the culture, the food, the palace’s garden, and while all those things were delightful, it still would be a lie.

If Obi-Wan liked Alderaan, it was first and foremost for its Queen and her Consort.

His morning meetings with Bail, his afternoons in the sun with Breha, had led to lunch the three of them, to tours in the garden when Breha had the strength and the time. As the unknown date of his departure came closer with every day, the knowledge that he would lose those moments was a pain he didn’t dare to examine. He could be emotionally blind and deaf, if Siri was to be believed, but he was still aware that the two of them didn’t treat him like the other Jedi.

Breha was friends with Bant and Master Myr. Bail was friendly with the whole bunch, but they spend more time with Obi-Wan, hours charged with words unsaid, with casual touch sometimes lingering too long. And Obi-Wan wanted, he wanted so much. Every morning, and every evening, he reproached himself for his weakness in his meditation. One-night stands or casual liaisons were one thing, but here, he had already passed the line in the sand, and he had not even kissed them, or admitted anything, and neither had they.

One day, Bant finished his weekly exam, and instead of the usual “Not yet, you’re not ready,” said: “Move over, let me sit with you.”

Obi-Wan obeyed, abruptly on edge, and the Healer came to sit next to him on the exam table.

“You’re so serious, suddenly,” Obi-Wan said, aiming for humour and his tone falling flat. “Is it so terrible? Will I grow another arm, or something even more bizarre?”

“If someone would, it’s probably you. But no, you’re good. Better than you have been since the beginning of the war, in fact.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, I can….I can leave.”

“Yes, you can.”

Her webbed hand found his.

“Obi…”

“Hmmm?”

“I will say that from the bottom of my heart, which adores you like the human brother I didn’t know I wanted. You are sometimes your own worst enemy.”

“Well, I prefer not to know what you would tell me if you didn’t love me,” Obi-Wan dryly remarked.

“If Master Windu hadn’t send you there, I’m not sure you would have woken up. You were burning the candle on both ends.”

“We all are.”

“But the rest of us, more or less, understand the importance of rest, of accepting comfort and support, instead of trying to take the entire world on our shoulders.”

“You’re a tad of a hypocrite, Bant. What was the last time you left your patients before the middle of the night?���

“Well, Quinlan and me…”

“ What ?”

“We didn’t know how to tell you, we feared you would find that strange.”

“Quinlan? Bant, that’s almost incest, you were raised together!”

Bant inhaled sharply.

“If it wasn’t the shock talking, I would shove you off the exam table for that,” she said, and Obi-Wan understood he had, in his stupidity, hurt her deeply with just a few words.

“But…”

“Obi, I found some happiness in darkness, and as my brother, the correct answer is congratulations.”

“…Congratulations?”

“With less of a question in the word, it would be better, but we will work on that. And now, tell me, if you leave soon this world, what could you do to find something that would make you happy? Happier. Something that you could take with you, in the night of space, something that will keep you warm.”

“Bant, Bant, I’m leaving. Soon, perhaps tomorrow.”

“Then, it’s now or never. They will never ask themselves, in their position they can’t. But you know they are only waiting for a word from you.”

She kissed his cheek.

“Perhaps it’s time you chose a little happiness for yourself.”

She left him to his thoughts.

After a moment, he took his holocomm:

“Anakin? Can you make a detour to fetch me on Alderaan?... Yes, I know you’re in route for Coruscant, but you’re the closet, it will only delay you for a day….Well, perhaps you can wait twenty hours before meeting the Chancellor again, when you haven’t seen your old Master for weeks!”

After another round of bickering with his Padawan, Obi-Wan, missing the turns in the corridors three times, slowly made his way to the palace gardens, wandering like his brain was still rebooting. Anakin would be there in less than a day, so whatever he decided, it needed to be now, when he would have preferred to have months to fret whether Bant was right or wrong. Matters of the heart were so much more complicated than battle.

He found the queen and her consort in one of their favourite places, a little hidden place under a tree, the trunk and branches creating a secret hollow under the cascading foliage. The bloom of that particular species was finished at that time of the year, and under Obi-Wan’s feet a carpeting of petals rustled, their perfume strong in the air.

Breha smiled when she saw him, and gestured in invitation. Force Healing was not a miracle, it couldn’t suddenly change her body into a totally healthy one, but even Obi-Wan could see the progress she had made, and the joy it brought her. She was glowing. He took her hand and joined them.

Then he took a careful breath and stepped into the unknown with a simple question. Searching for happiness. And the prize of his courage was the sweetness of Breha’s kiss and the strength of Bail’s arm around his waist. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, pushed to the background of his mind the countdown to Anakin’s arrival on Alderaan, and his departure. He gave himself fully to the moment. He opened his arms and bared his soul and tried his best to forget it would only be one night and gently, so gently, they pulled him against them and he found safety and closeness.

***********************************

Bail and Breha were sleeping when Obi-Wan finished dressing. Dawn was still hours away and the sparks of pleasure still lingered on his skin when he tied his belt around his waist, struggling with it like he hadn’t since he was an Initiate. He didn’t really know what he was doing. That night had been…

That night had been….

How could he go back to being so alone, when he had let them breach the walls of his entire being?

He didn’t know if he would have the strength to leave, if he woke them up for it. Bail was still curved like he had been around Obi-Wan’s smaller bulk and Breha’s hand, flat on the mattress, seemed to search for the missing body. The light of the moon exposed their almost nakedness and Obi-Wan wanted to crawl back into bed with them, and to disappear under the black, silky sheet covering their legs.

He was hesitating in the bedroom’s threshold when he heard quick steps in the hall. Someone was running into the private apartments, someone who probably wasn’t an assassin, as they didn’t try to muffle the sounds they made.

Obi-Wan turned into the bedroom and woke up his lovers. Whatever that was, he was pretty sure it was important. He could feel fate and history weighting down the Force.

“The Jedi killed the Chancellor!” The handmaiden who swooped into the rooms yelled, forgetting protocols in her turmoil and Obi-Wan could do nothing more than sit down heavily on the bed, at Bail’s feet. He put his face into his hands and grumbled:

“If this is Anakin who finally cracked, he will face so many remedial meditations. So, so, so many.”

On his shoulders, the small hand of Breha on one side, the larger hand of Bail on the other, so Obi-Wan took a careful breath and let their presence give him strength. He stood up again.

Time to face the music.

*****

Mace Windu had an eyepatch and difficulty staying upright. From the holoscreen, Obi-Wan could only see the arm of a Jedi bracing the Master of the Order to stop him from sliding down the bed. From the shape and colour of the hand, Obi-Wan though that the helper was Depa.

In the background, Master Che’s sour expression made clear she believed Mace Windu should have been sleeping, instead of taking holocalls, even calls from fellow members of the High Council.

In general, nobody in the galaxy was less impressed by the High Council than the healers in charge of keeping them alive, and they always said to anyone who was ready to listen that it was a thankless task!

It was crowded around the screen: Bail and Breha, and Obi-Wan and Bant, and the Alderaanian Prime Minister, and all the Jedi contingent still present, and a few security officers who refused to leave the Queen alone with the Jedi until more was known. It was crowded but silent. Master Che had made very clear that anybody who interrupted Master Windu with stupid questions before the end of his story would earn a place in her black book, and nobody wanted that. Not even the Prime Minister, a no nonsense woman who had never met Master Che and probably never would.

When Master Windu’s retelling of the Sith’s death was finished, there was a moment of silence. Obi-Wan had put his arm around Bant, quietly crying at the death of her former Master, poor Kit Fisto. Obi-Wan had the impression she had already known, before Mace’s report of Masters’ Fisto, Tiin and Kolar’s deaths at the hands of Palpatine, because her gills had been almost white - a sure sign of sorrow - from the moment he had found her this morning. The link between Master and Padawan was still a great mystery of the Force. Obi-Wan remembered knowing Qui-Gon would die, long before he had seen the wound, when his own fate was still unknown, fighting to the death with that thrice damned Zabrak.

“I think the Sith never intended to battle us alone,” Master Windu was saying. “I think it was a set-up. But whatever he was waiting for, or whoever, never happened.” His surviving pupil was fully dilated, the only sign he was on the good drugs, since his diction was perfect.

“He moved too many pieces,” Master Myr sagely said. “It was bound to happen. One day that one of them wouldn’t be at the place he expected, at the time he expected. It is a lesson for us all, how much we depended on his arrogance about his plans to take him down.”

“There were even more pieces than we suspected,” Master Windu continued. “Master Tholme and his team are already working with Judicials, cracking the Sith’s communications on the undeclared holocommunicators found in his apartments, and it seems he was in contact with the Separatist Council. Master Gallia has left with a team to apprehend them on the mining planet where they are hidden. It will probably take years to learn the extent of his crimes.”

The last word was a little mangled, as Mace Windu fought it against a yawn.

“Enough for today,” Master Che declared despite various protests, and Obi-Wan and the other Jedi had only time to wish a swift recovery to the Master of the Order, before the communication was shut down.

Obi-Wan was on the point of offering to accompany Bant to her rooms when all the Jedi in the room grimaced. The nova of power that was Anakin Skywalker had just arrived in orbit out of hyperspace, and his temper was a roaring tempest, so violent they could sense it from there.

“I will take care of that,” Obi-Wan announced, already anticipating accusations and a tantrum, and so much placating in his future. It really was a miracle of the Force, he decided, that Anakin hadn’t been on Coruscant during that fateful event. The young man would perhaps have done something unwise. Now that the war might stop, Anakin would have time for himself, and Obi-Wan hoped it would help.

“Take care of what?” Bail asked, surprised, but Breha was more reactive, and offered her arm to Bant, asking:

“Master Eerin, let me take you to your rooms? Or perhaps the garden? Nature is such a balm against our pains.”

“Your Majesty…”

“Breha, please.”

The other Jedi left with the Alderaan officials, already debating the best ways to participate in what would certainly be the best chance of peace, now that the Chancellor was dead and everybody would be quietly horrified to have been manipulated in such a way, horrified enough to give a real shot at negotiations, and Bail was left alone with Master Myr. He didn’t know exactly what to think about the latest events. He had opposed the Chancellor on so many laws, more and more, as Palpatine slowly accumulated more powers and encouraged more and more terrible legislation, but he never would have thought him an ancient evil with Force powers, ready to burn the galaxy down to possess it.

“I don’t know what to do right now,” Bail confessed to Master Myr.

“At this hour, I like to feed the birds in your biggest aviary,” the old Jedi said. “You have a very nice collection.”

“I was thinking more long term, but who am I to contradict the wisdom of the Jedi Order,” Bail joked, then he offered his arm. She didn’t walk very quickly and didn’t try conversation, letting Bail work on his thoughts. Soon, those thoughts were leaving surprise for irritation, as he understood better the chain of events that had put him there, on Alderaan, during the most important crisis of the last centuries of the Republic.

After a moment, he said:

“I must confess, Master Myr, when you accompanied us to Alderaan, I thought you were supposed to keep an eye on us. I was almost vexed, that Master Windu wasn’t sure of our House, but I had it backward, didn’t I? He didn’t think there would be danger, here, for the wounded Jedi, and send you to protect them. He thought the danger was on Coruscant, and he wanted you in safety, so he used me taking Obi-Wan and the other patients here as a pretext to send you too. He knew…he knew something would happen.”

She smiled sadly:

“He would have bundled up the entire Order and sent them with you, if he thought he had even a possibility to do it in secret. Since you are an allied planet, he could only send one adult Jedi in the company of our patients, and a Healer. He will feel guilty about his choice for years, the poor boy, but I am his Master, and even Jedi’s friends forget sometimes that we put more meaning in that word than other people. And what child wants his aging parent in harm’s way?”

“Was Obi-Wan really in danger?”

“Yes, he was. The numbers of attempts in his life, these last months… The Sith wanted him out of the way.”

“For what?”

“We’ll probably never know. The Dark One undoubtedly thought Obi-Wan was between him and something he wanted. Greed is the base of numerous Sith’s actions.”

She patted his arm with a cheerful smile:

“I don’t think Mace predicted Obi-Wan would take so well to Alderaan,” and Bail could have sworn he was as red as the sun at sunset.

“Master…”

“Don’t fret, my dear. After all, the time of diplomatic missions will come back for Jedi. Who knows which elected member of our Senate they will have to work with. Who knows how they will work on strengthening the Order’s bonds with our allies. Perhaps it’s time to put Jedi outposts on planets other than Coruscant, to let people remember who we are.”

Bail’s smile was quite too big for that important day, but she didn’t comment on it.

Together, they went to feed the birds.

[artificialqueens]

Twist Of Fate - Ch10 - (Trixya) - katyahzamo

A/N: And we’re back! Sorry for making you guys wait for literally a month, but life got crazy for a hot second and here we are. This chapter is longer to make up for it, and the next one should come super soon! We have only 2 or 3 chapters left until the end, so thank you for sticking with me!

A reminder: Trixie is a hairdresser and Katya is a struggling photographer slash yoga instructor. Lesbian AU. Read the chapters on AO3 and/or come hang out on my tumblr katyahzamo. Comments are welcome and encouraged!

“I don’t understand, I thought you were fine with long distance.”

“It’s not just that, Pearl, it’s, I-“

“No, I get it. It’s not me, it’s you or some other bullshit you’re about to pull out.”

“Pearl-“

“No, I really don’t care. I just wish you told me before I fucking went around and changed half of my life because of you.”

“You said you wanted to stay in Boston to stay close to your friends.”

“Oh bullshit, Trixie, we both know why I stayed.”

They were standing on the opposite sides of the room, Pearl’s numerous suitcases between them a nice metaphor for the chasm that had opened half an hour earlier. Pearl, a generally laid back if not a little aloof woman was trembling now, her fingers holding a cigarette close to her mouth, the default disinterested façade bursting at the seams. Nothing else could be expected, after all, considering the fact Trixie just told her she couldn’t be in a relationship with her anymore. Out of nowhere.

Silence stretched into eternity as Pearl smoked and Trixie watched her, not able to find the right words to make the situation okay. She knew she loved the other blonde, had a wonderful time with her for eight months they have been together, but also knew it was unfair to keep it up; especially with unresolved feelings towards another, shorter, much more chaotic blonde woman. She knew it was a horrible timing to break up, without a chance to talk it out with the clock ticking closer to Pearl’s departure, but Trixie knew that if she hadn’t done it now, she wouldn’t have found the strength to do it any time soon.

“I should go. Last thing I fucking need is to miss my flight.”

“I can still go with you.”

“No, don’t bother. I already got an Uber.”

“I’m sorry.”

Pearl didn’t reply, and didn’t let Trixie help with her suitcases. She slammed the door behind her once her ride arrived, the door to her own rented apartment that Trixie was supposed to move into while Pearl was on tour. When the surroundings fell silent, only sound the ticking of a clock somewhere in the living room, Trixie dropped on the couch and covered her eyes, finally letting a sob escape her chest, and then another one, and another, and soon enough she was a crying mess on a bunch of pillows that still smelled like her now ex-girlfriend.

The following morning she texted Kim to tell her she’d be squatting at her place for a little while longer, and Kim took her out for cupcakes and coffee before work to make her feel better. Dread hung low in her chest, and Trixie kept checking her phone between clients to see if Pearl texted her, even though she knew she wouldn’t. Pearl had never been the one to cause drama or a scene of any kind, good or bad – being in a public eye taught her how to be private, about her life and her feelings alike, which was one of the main reasons Trixie liked her in the first place.

.

.

.

Trixie avoided instagram like the plague for the next couple of days, knowing Pearl would be posting stories from her East Coast gigs, with hordes of beautiful women that seemed to follow her wherever she went. It’s not necessarily the jealousy that made Trixie avoid social media, it was more the guilt of how badly she handled the breakup itself. The only afternoon she spent on instagram was to go through Katya’s behind-the-scenes photos she’d tagged her in, and felt a little pang in her chest at a photo of Pearl looking off camera and at her, as she recalled.

By the time the end of the week rolled by, Trixie was sure that breaking up with Pearl was the right thing to do. Yet, the feelings in the following week were the most confusing mix of emotions she’d ever experienced in a long time. Her time was spent between crying and self-pity whenever she’d see something that reminded her of Pearl on one hand, yet her stomach would flip every time she saw Katya post on social media on the other. Katya had announced that she’s quitting teaching yoga for photography in an instagram post in true Katya fashion: all flashy and including bad photoshop Trixie knew was purposeful, and she felt her heart swell with pride, even though she couldn’t find it in her to congratulate Katya just yet, or talk to her for that matter.

When Katya messaged her first a day after, Trixie almost didn’t invite her for coffee and even berated herself for having done so when they almost kissed in Honey. Despite everything, Trixie did not know if whatever she felt for Katya was simply a result of months of fantasizing about her years previously, or actual, real feelings that had potential, if Katya even liked her back in the first place. The latter was still undecided, since reading Katya was like deciphering the binary code to a person who has never seen a computer in their life. It took all of her willpower to invite Katya out after that, and she played it safe, knowing that a fair was a place where they could have fun even if their date bombed. It would also be easy to play it off as a friendly outing if either of them realized that giving a chance to whatever feelings they had was a mistake.

When she kissed Katya in her car after the evening at the fair, and Katya kissed her back, all Trixie’s doubts about her own ever-growing feelings dissipated faster than artificial fog in cheap theater productions, especially when she could feel her heart and mind explode when Katya touched her anywhere and kissed her like that. She all but ran to Kim’s apartment after half an hour of making out in Katya’s car, and retold the events of the entire evening at the fair to an almost excruciating detail, so much that Kim had to egg her on when she got stuck on explaining the way Katya laughed when kids ganged up on her while they were driving bumper cars, how she held her tightly on top of the Ferris wheel, and how kissing her felt like no other thing in the entire world.

She did spare Kim the details of how Katya pressed her into the side of her car and kissed her neck until her knees felt liquid, the way her hands roamed over Trixie’s waist and squeezed her ass, or how breathy Katya’s whisper was against her ear when she said she was going to miss her; and how wet it made Trixie just thinking about it. Had it been any other person, Trixie would have told Kim about all of it, but the fear of this being a one-time thing still loomed over her as she got ready for Wisconsin and she did not want to jinx it, irrational as it might have sounded.

.

.

.

Being back in Wisconsin made Trixie feel suffocated more than all of the happenings in her personal life combined, and she was grateful Bob is in town too, even if it’s just for the weekend. She spent the first five to six days helping her mother sort out her late aunt’s clothes and possessions, one half going to family, the other to charity, just the way her aunt had wanted. She had no children or heirs in her name, so she had left all of her jewelry to Trixie - and that woman sure had a lot of it. It made Trixie cry, more than once, as she went through all the necklaces and bracelets she had let Trixie wear when she was a kid, back when she used to babysit her during long summer days when her mom and stepfather were away.

What made Trixie cry even more is the photo album she found in her aunt’s drawer, dedicated completely to Trixie and her siblings, since they spent most of their childhood in their aunt’s home, which was considerably bigger than their own and smelled of incense and lavender. Bob was in most of the pictures too, and Trixie decided to take one or two to give to him once they go out.

Talking to Katya, even if it’s just over text, helped the anxiety over being around family again. She made Trixie laugh with random photos of people from the street, crude stickers on street lamps or graffiti. They even talked on the phone once, the same night when Trixie found the photo album and was unable to stop crying until her throat hurt and eyes prickled. Katya asked her if she’s okay several times, and when Trixie assured her that she would be, they talked until three in the morning about life, death, universe and for some reason – clowns. Trixie found out then that Katya had an affinity for ghosts too, and made her promise she’d never summon one with Trixie in her presence. They never mentioned Pearl, not since that first day at the café, and it was mostly because Trixie still felt guilty over how they broke up and the fact that she’d been texting Pearl several days prior.

It’s not that Trixie planned to meet up with Pearl from the get-go, but she had seen that one of her gigs was in Chicago the weekend Bob was supposed to come. She had replied to one of Pearl’s stories on a whim, never expecting a response and had ended up surprised when it arrived. Pearl hadn’t been talkative, though she rarely ever was, but had agreed to meet up with Trixie for lunch on the day of the gig, to Trixie’s great relief. Bob volunteered to drive her to Chicago as both moral support and in need for some good quality lesbian drama, as he put it, even though Trixie didn’t share any of the details with him until the day of the trip.

Aside from the looming sense of doom, Trixie was looking forward to going on a small road trip with one of her best friends, especially since they live on the opposite sides of the country nowadays. She knew that the nervous knot in her stomach in the following days was made worse because she hid this piece of information from Katya, but none of the times they texted each other seemed right to put the information out there. Aside from occasional flirting, they didn’t talk much about what exactly it is that they were doing, and Trixie willed herself not to think about it too much until they see each other again. With that in mind, she decided that telling Katya about meeting Pearl can wait too.

Come Saturday morning, Bob picks her up bright and early and they barely speak until they’ve had coffee Trixie’s mom’s packed for the both of them. For some miraculous reason, her mother loves Bob despite him being an openly gay man, but she never asks him anything aside from how his parents are doing and what the weather is like in Los Angeles. As they pack up and stand in front of the car, Mrs. Mattel gives them both a hug and tells them to have fun in Chicago. Trixie has no intentions of telling her mother that she’s going to see her ex-girlfriend, justifying her trip as the only time she can celebrate her upcoming birthday with her best friend. Talking about anything remotely gay in the Mattel household has been out of the question ever since Trixie came out in her teenage years, and despite the hurt, she’d eventually gotten used to it.

“So, are we going to wait for Pearl outside of the club and scare the shit out of her or what?”

Trixie rolls her eyes at him, which he fails to see, having his eyes on the highway once they leave the tiny set of houses surrounding Trixie’s home.

“No, bitch, she knows I’m coming.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah, I texted her some time after I landed last week, asked if we could talk. Told her I still had the keys to her apartment.”

“Tell me the truth, Mattel, did you steal that poor girl’s keys just so you can make her talk to you later?”

“Shut up, she left them after she ran out that night, and me in that apartment too.”

“Well, can you blame her? You practically dumped her an hour before her big tour without so much an explanation—“

“I was there Bob, thanks.”

This makes him laugh and he reaches out to squeeze her shoulder.

“You know I’m just messing with you. What are you gonna tell her, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Anything but ‘I don’t think this is going to work’.”

“Right, because that went so well for you last time.”

“Exactly. I just want to make sure to have the closure, you know?”

“… so you can be with Katya.”

Trixie’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as she turns to him, glaring incredulously.

“I’m going to kill Kimberly.”

“Kim provides me with info you never tell me, bitch! When were you going to tell me you’re banging the hot Russian photographer? Finally, might I add?”

“Listen, we went out on a semi-date and kissed, it’s not like we fu—“

“So she’s the real reason for the breakup, right?”

“Oh Jesus.”

“Trixie, I know you better than your own mother knows you. How do I know? She made this disgusting ass coffee and didn’t even put caramel in it.”

Trixie laughs at that, her cheeks still burning since the Katya talk started. Her stomach is full of butterflies every time Katya is brought up, and her chest burns when she remembers how Katya took a photo of a sunrise and captioned it with It’s so quiet, you’d love it in their text thread that very morning.

“So?”

“Hm?”

“Spill it, Mattel! I want all the dirty details!”

So Trixie tells him; starting with Adore and Bianca’s party and finishes with the late night phone conversation while the two of them pass Milwaukee and head south for Chicago. Bob stops her here and there for details, and Trixie feels like they are fifteen again, talking about their first crushes and trying to gauge for all the signs if their crushes like them back. When Trixie comes to the kiss, she doesn’t spare Bob the way she did Kim, and he lets out a long whistle, followed by a booming laugh.

“You’re so fucking whipped, I’m living for this!”

She doesn’t even try to argue with him, because he pushes onward, and before they know it they’ve reached Chicago, together with new levels of anxiety that Trixie starts feeling as soon as she becomes aware that it will be the first time seeing and talking to Pearl after several weeks.  A part of her is dreading a potential fight that might come out of it, but a bigger part of her is just ready to put all of it behind and move on.

.

.

.

Pearl waits for her in one of the restaurants just down the street from her hotel, a location she’s sent to Trixie who messaged her after she spent several hours walking around Chicago with Bob and taking pictures she would show Katya later.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They go in for a hug, but it’s short, and it’s awkward, and Trixie soon finds that Pearl doesn’t really look at her as she settles into her own seat on the other side of the table. When she does, though, Trixie can see that Pearl is not as angry anymore, just… indifferent. Trixie is used to indifferent, but never towards her. It’s somewhat of a relief, even though she knows Pearl is an expert of keeping the feelings of any kind inside unless she wants them to surface.

“How have you been?” Trixie chances after she’s ordered a salad and Pearl has ordered soup, even though neither of them feel hungry.

“Good. Busy. You?”

Short and to the point. It makes Trixie sigh, but she nods either way.

“I’ve been okay. Traveled home to get aunt’s stuff in order. Fully didn’t expect to see the entire family.”

There’s a shadow of a smile that fades quickly when Pearl doesn’t return it. Instead, she trails her fingers over the cup of coffee that’s been drank before Trixie arrived. She opens her mouth several times but doesn’t know how to start, and Pearl sees it, seemingly decides to let her struggle for a bit, before she speaks up.

“Why are you here, Trixie?”

“I came to talk to you. And give you your keys back.”

“And that couldn’t wait until I’m back in Boston?”

Technically, it could. Trixie purses her pink lips and moves the phantom strand of hair from her shoulder. Her blonde hair has been pulled up in a high ponytail, matching Pearl’s almost perfectly.

“I didn’t know when you were coming back and if you were coming back at all so…”

“And you couldn’t have given the keys to Adore?”

Trixie can’t pinpoint if the annoyance is fake or if she’s just poking fun at her, a slight cutting tone not entirely matching the way the corners of Pearl’s mouth twitch. Despite herself, Trixie laughs dryly.

“I’m not Adore’s favorite person right now, honestly, and I don’t blame her.”

“Why not?” Pearl’s head tilts to the side as she leans her crossed arms on her own side of the table.

“Because I broke up with you the way I did. And I totally get it, I deserve the cold shoulder I’ve been getting from our friends.”

“Trixie, listen-“

“Pearl, I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am for doing it the way I did. It was sudden, and it was after the most fun day any of us had in a while, and you didn’t deserve that bomb dropped on you before your big ass sold out tour. You fully couldn’t see it coming and there I was, fucking everything up.”

“Oh I saw it coming.”

“What?”

Trixie’s eyes bug out just a little bit, and the word comes out sharper than she intended, but it prompts a small smile on Pearl’s side. She’s forgotten how crinkles form around Pearl’s pale eyes when she smiles like that, but Trixie has been too preoccupied to think about Katya’s laugh lines in the past two weeks to get a chance to miss them.

“Trixie, I might be slow sometimes, and I fucking suck at math, but I’m not stupid. I know it hasn’t been the same for a while now.”

The unnecessarily aggressive heat climbs up Trixie’s neck and tints her cheeks pink. Pearl doesn’t give her a chance to stumble over her words, but continues.

“I’ve seen you slowly pulling away for at least a month before that night, but there were so many things going on that I thought it was just you being stressed out over your job and your aunt. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me. So, when you broke it off that night, I thought about everything, some things fell in place and I couldn’t really hate you. Shit happens.”

If there was ever a moment where Trixie Mattel wished for a cigarette, this is it. The way Pearl talks about this in a nonchalant way after only two weeks opens the avalanche of emotions towards Pearl and their entire situation, and Trixie has a hard time keeping the sudden surge of tears. It’s not necessarily that she expected Pearl to tell her to go fuck herself, but a part of her can’t help but wonder if Pearl cared enough for her since she sure as hell doesn’t look upset right now. Trixie pushes that intrusive thought down, since hurting Pearl is the root of all her guilt, and seeing her not hurt as much weeks later should be a relief. Pearl lets her compose herself, watching her over the cup of coffee, until Trixie speaks again.

“I still think I didn’t do any of this right. Handling my feelings, handling work shit and I fully didn’t treat you right.” Her voice is a bit lower now, feeling her throat close and eyes cast down to her own hands. “I should have done it sooner, but you were having so much fun with the photoshoot and the girls and I… I just have a fucking terrible timing, okay?”

They both laugh at that, and Trixie’s chortle is somewhat teary and ends in a hiccup, but she looks back at Pearl and wipes a stray tear with a finger not to smudge her makeup.

“Look Trix, you did what you had to do. I don’t think I treated you the way you wanted to be treated, either. I wasn’t there for you, emotionally. We both held onto it for a lot longer than we should have. Going away gave me a bit of perspective on the whole situation, and I appreciate you for being honest. My pride might never forgive you for dumping me but… you know.”

She laughs that slow, dragged out Pearl laugh and Trixie thinks this is probably the most open she’s ever seen Pearl since they met. It makes Trixie realize the truth behind those words. Settling down in one place, with a huge house and a dog is something Trixie knows is the endgame for her, was never really an option for Pearl.

“You’re fucking amazing and any girl would be lucky to have you, Pearl. You deserve a great life.”

“I think you’re amazing too. You’ll find someone that will be more present for you, something I could never fully do.”

Trixie nods and they look at each other in silence for a little while longer, then Pearl speaks again.

“But thank you for coming down to see me. It’s more than any other girl’s ever done for me.”

The words cause Trixie’s bottom lip to tremble slightly again, but she smiles nevertheless.

“It’s the least I could do after letting you leave in an Uber with three of your suitcases.”

“Yeah, that was the worst thing any girl has ever done to me.”

The laughter is a bit lighter this time around and Pearl reaches out to squeeze her hand. Throughout the months they have been together, Pearl always had a calming effect on Trixie, who was a little dramatic about things and cried easily about anything, happy or sad. Realizing just how much she will miss Pearl as an everyday presence in her life is almost overwhelming, and a little bittersweet.

“Are you going to be back in Boston anytime soon?”

“Maybe, but not soon. We got several cities in Europe, Asia and Australia added to the tour so when that’s over, yeah. I still have some of my stuff there.”

“I’m proud of you.” Trixie then says, and Pearl smiles at her again, the initial coldness almost completely gone.

“Thanks. If you ever decide to come to one of the gigs, let me know.”

“Oh I fully intend to.”

The rest of the lunch goes by quickly, and they part with a hug much tighter this time around. Trixie feels the urge to cry again when she sits in Bob’s car, but this time it’s more in relief than anything else. The entire afternoon went much better than Trixie thought it would, and the knot in her chest that has been haunting her for weeks finally eased, letting her breathe again.

They don’t stay for Pearl’s gig, thinking it’s better to leave everything as it is for now. Bob drives Trixie back to Milwaukee instead and they have couple of drinks there before driving out into the country and towards their little hometown. When Trixie gets into bed at two-something in the morning, she sees Pearl liked some of the photos of home she’s posted. Katya texted her throughout the day too, the same way she always did, with a string of unrelated, random thoughts she had in her breaks from work, most of them to make Trixie laugh.

To Katya: Sry, been out with Bob all day :) :D

To Katya: I’ll show you pictures of us when we were babies when I come back :’)

Katya Zamo: I bet you looked cute like a baby

Katya Zamo: Unlike now

Katya Zamo: ;)

Katya Zamo: I hope you had fun

Trixie keeps her phone on her chest until it buzzes, and then laughs at the message.

To Katya: I hate you

To Katya: Yeah it was fun :D I miss Bob most of the year, I know you can relate

To Katya: With Violet

To Katya: Hey

To Katya: Remember when I told you to raincheck on that drink after that day when I came back?

To Katya: You probably don’t remember, I’m dumb

Katya Zamo: Of course I remember

Katya Zamo: What about it?

Trixie’s heart thuds in her chest as she smiles in the darkness.

To Katya: How about I take you up on that raincheck when I come back in 3-4 days?

To Katya: If you’re up for it? :) :) :)

The reply doesn’t come right away, and Trixie feels her stomach about to explode with the nerves when Katya’s dots seem to appear and reappear couple of times.

Katya Zamo: Of course, Tracy!

Katya Zamo: You still owe me a drink after you didn’t want to watch the fireworks with me

Katya Zamo: ;)

To Katya: Bitch, we both know why we didn’t watch the fireworks

To Katya: All your fault with the fucking F wheel

To Katya: But I didn’t hear you complain when you drove me home :) :p

Trixie is sure she will never get used to flirting with Katya or feel less nervous about it, even though they have been doing it consistently over the course of the week.

Katya Zamo: If you kiss me like you did that night I’ll never complain again

Katya Zamo: In fact, I can’t wait to do it again

To Katya: Me too

After the emotional rollercoaster of today its ending is not bad at all, Trixie thinks as she sends Katya kissing emojis. She is unsure if she can keep her eyes open for too long, even when the thought of kissing Katya again makes her want to squeal in excitement. After her talk with Pearl that afternoon, a long conversation with Bob all the while and crying on and off, Trixie realizes that there is nothing that is stopping her from pursuing Katya now. Half-asleep, she barely has time or energy to worry about how Katya was going to react when she tells her about seeing Pearl.  Until then, she has three full days of hanging out with family, and wishes her aunt was there so she can tell her all about Katya and Pearl. She knows she would have loved the drama.

.

.

.

Trixie looks down at her freshly manicured hands and notices that they are shaking slightly. Excited much? She glances at herself in the Uber driver’s rear view mirror, making sure that every single piece of her makeup and hair strand are in their place because they have to be. It’s barely been twenty four hours since she landed in Boston, but she and Katya made plans for these drinks days before, and Trixie is sure she hasn’t been able to sleep properly since.

After enduring an hour of Kim fixing her hair and makeup before leaving the apartment, Trixie knows she is barely minutes away from meeting Katya in front of the bar they were supposed to go all those weeks ago, when Trixie just came back from Europe. Despite telling Kim that she is not worried about seeing Katya again, sharing space with her and seeing those unbelievably blue eyes up close, Kim doesn’t believe her, nor does Trixie believe herself. All the chill Trixie prided herself in having when going out with women she crushed on was gone, and it is the first time she knows she will throw up the moment she steps out of her Uber.

She doesn’t.

What she does is inhale sharply when she sees Katya standing on the other side of the street in front of the bar, cigarette between her lips and eyes on the other side of the road, dressed in a see-through black shirt, unbuttoned enough to see her lacy bralette and a black, leather skirt to match. Wavy blonde hair is already falling past her shoulders and move smoothly every time Katya moves her head, and Trixie feels like she’s falling in a trance just watching her smoke.

When Katya spots Trixie she stubs her cigarette out hastily, and Trixie can’t help but blush when she sees how Katya looks her up and down, shamelessly checking out her tight thigh high blue dress with loose sleeves and a high collar. Blue eyes travel then to Trixie’s half updo, wavy blonde hair pulled back, and it looks like Katya is speechless for a second before Trixie hugs her.

“You’re… not pink.”

“Thanks?”

Trixie’s eyes shot up and she already sees Katya’s cheeks tinged with color, even when she laughs that absurd wheezing laugh of hers.

“Shut up, you know what I mean. You look stunning.”

“So do you.”

All Trixie want is to take another step forward and kiss her, but she’s unsure of it. Katya seems unsure too, but she does take her hand and follows her inside the bar. The place is dim-lit and the music is loud enough for Trixie to feel it in her chest but quiet enough to hear Katya when she leans over and asks her what she wants to drink.

They settle in a corner far away from the bar that is still semi-deserted, and fall into their usual rhythm of banter just seconds later. Trixie is relieved that even two weeks away after their kiss did not change a single thing in their dynamic, and is eternally grateful when Katya’s eyes tear up with laughter when Trixie tells her all about her family gathering shenanigans and uncle Peter who got so drunk he fell off the porch and into a pile of horse shit. Literally.

“Where the fuck do you live that you have horse shit right outside of your house?”

“Honey, it’s the middle of fucking nowhere, Courage-the-Cowardly-Dog deserted. Of course we have horse shit wherever you go.”

The only change Trixie does notice is how Katya’s knees are bumping into her own and how she touches her, more than she ever remembers her doing, her long fingers gripping Trixie’s wrist and knee more often than Trixie can keep track of. By the time she has her third glass of gin and tonic, Trixie gets visibly flushed every time Katya’s hand comes remotely close to her thigh, and lets almost audible whimpers when she feels Katya’s lips against her ear upon repeating something Trixie doesn’t hear the first time around. Katya seems to notice the effect she has on Trixie too, and seems to double the frequency, all with the shit-eating grin on her face and eyes that spend time traveling between Trixie’s dark ones and her pink lips.

“So are you ever going to tell me why you’re not pursuing a music career?”

It’s past ten thirty, the bar’s gotten crowded and Trixie feels tipsier than she wanted to be, but the nerves of having Katya so close took the best of her. All she can think about is wanting to kiss her so badly, take her out back and eat her out until she cries out her name brokenly…

“Earth to Trixie?”

“Hm?”

Katya leans forward, putting a scathingly hot palm on Trixie’s lower back, making her shiver, and repeats the question.

“Oh, I don’t really think I have the time and energy for that. Plus, I’d eventually have to move to L.A., and I hate it.”

“Why do you hate it?”

“It’s really hot, and everyone’s trying to do the same thing you do, and only a handful of people succeed. I don’t think I’m ready to face that kind of a failure.”

“I don’t think you’d fail.”

Trixie blinks and notices that Katya’s come close but did not move away like she did every other time. She can smell the faint scent of her cologne, mixed with cigarette smoke and Georgia peach soda and feels her heart skip several beats, causing her to giggle nervously. She sees Katya’s eyebrows shoot up at the reaction, but grins that brilliant grin of hers in return.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just like you.”

Katya’s face lights up like the thousand suns at that reply and Trixie’s heart does several other somersaults, going hand-in-hand with the butterflies that are doing the Macarena in her stomach.

“You do?”

“Mhmm.”

In the next moment she feels that same faint cigarette and soda scent on her own lips before Katya kisses her and she kisses back. The hand on her lower back grips the fabric of her dress a little bit and Trixie’s hand reaches up to run her fingers through Katya’s waves. Despite the kiss being slow, and brief, they are both out of breath by the time they pull back.

“I like you too.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

They both descend into loud laughter after that, but Katya’s hand remains on Trixie’s lower back for the rest of the evening, and she leaves several kisses on her jaw when she leans over to speak into her ear, turning Trixie’s legs to jello every single time.

“You’re… walking home?”

They are in front of the bar an hour later, at Trixie’s request they go get some fresh air since she feels lightheaded from the mix of Katya’s kisses, the crowd inside and five glasses of gin tonic she’s had in the span of several hours.

“Yeah, I live just down the road. That building over there.”  Katya points with her index and middle finger that are holding the cigarette. The air of the late summer evening is cool, but warm enough that neither of them need a jacket to stand outside.

“You’re not afraid someone’s… you know, gonna rob you or something?”

“You’re such a country girl.” Katya replies with laughter in her voice, mixed with affection that reignites the heat in both Trixie’s stomach and in the back of her neck.

“Yeah excuse me if daily news of shootings aren’t a reason to fear walking home alone in the middle of the night? Well, that, and I watched Friday the 13 last night.”

“Fair enough.” Katya nods and chuckles, looking out on the street as if she’s considering something, before turning to Trixie.

“You were taking an Uber, right?”

“Yeah, I wanted to. Why?”

“Well, maybe you can walk with me to my building and I can take you?”

“Oh now she scared!”

“Or maybe I just want to spend more time with you.”

The sincerity in Katya’s voice makes Trixie pull away from the wall she was leaned on and takes Katya’s hand, pulling her closer. The fact that Katya wears flat boots and Trixie heels puts her to a height advantage, and Katya has to stand on her tiptoes when she wraps arms around Trixie’s waist.

“Maybe?” Trixie teases, arms around Katya’s shoulders and noses touching.

“Definitely.” With that, Katya closes space between them once again, their kisses languid and lazy at first, until Katya loses patience and walks Trixie back into the wall, hands gripping tightly at her waist and pinning her back into the brick. Trixie lets out a soft sound into Katya’s mouth once their kiss deepens, and hips roll against Katya’s pelvis unconsciously, causing the other to growl appreciatively.

“Katya-“ The sound is closer to a whimper now and Trixie is absolutely dripping wet even from the smallest contact.

The sound of her name makes Katya open her eyes and look at Trixie, pulling back slightly.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh god yes, just…” Not here.

It seems like Katya understands what Trixie wants to say and nods, stepping back but holding Trixie’s waist just the same.

“Let’s walk?”

“Yeah.”

The walk to Katya’s apartment is five minutes long, if even that, but all Trixie can think of is how slick her own thighs are and hopes Katya doesn’t see just how aroused she feels even after that one kiss. It’s pathetic, really, Trixie thinks, more pathetic than any other time she hooked up with a girl. On one hand, she wants to take it slow with Katya, even though it took fucking ages to get to this point. On the other, she just wants Katya to pull her in an alley to fuck her senseless and let her eat her out, in that particular order. She is leaning towards latter but the look on Katya’s face is unintelligible, even though she laughs and points out little things on the street she’s noticed after a couple of months of living in this area, her face at ease as if she doesn’t have a single care in the world.

By the time they reach Katya’s building, Trixie is ready to explode, trying to put all the blame to the alcohol for making her this irrationally wound up, but when Katya’s fingers gently brush down her jaw that she kisses moments before she kisses her lips, Trixie knows it’s all Katya.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” She rasps out, not wanting to invite herself upstairs in case Katya needed a break, even though her own puppy eyes probably say more than she can.

“Me too.”

There are a several beats of silence and Trixie cannot bring herself to say goodbye. Katya’s thumb is stroking up and down her side, and even the feeling of fabric against her sensitive skin makes Trixie want to scream.

“Trix, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you broke up with Pearl less than a month ago and you maybe wanted to take things slow but…”

Trixie’s stomach turns at the mention of Pearl and the fact she still didn’t tell Katya about seeing her last week, but Katya is still speaking and she forces herself back to present.

“… but I really want to invite you upstairs.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I mean, yes, I want to come upstairs with you.”

Their next kiss knocks the air out of Trixie’s lungs and they keep kissing, on and off all the way inside of the building, in the elevator, and on their way to Katya’s apartment. The walls inside the long, narrow hallway are somewhat falling apart, but Trixie notices none of it as her lips brush the back of Katya’s neck when the other fishes for her keys impatiently and struggles to unlock the door.

Once inside, Katya kicks off her boots and doesn’t wait for Trixie to do the same before she pins her to the wall again, slamming the front door closed with her foot.  Her lips find Trixie’s lips, jawline, the pulse point on her neck that she bites impatiently. Trixie can barely find air to breathe and her eyes roll in the back of her head, which she tilts to the side to give Katya space, all the space she wants and needs since Trixie can’t think about anything but Katya’s roaming hands. Those fingers trace the curves of Trixie’s hips and hike under the hem of her dress and pull it up, until is bunched up on her waist.

“Is this okay?” Katya whispers against the red, splotchy skin of Trixie’s neck, fingers gripping Trixie’s thick thighs that are almost shaking with anticipation. She wants nothing, nothing more than she wants Katya. Right now. As soon as possible.

“Fuck yes.”

Her fingers grip the hair on the nape of Katya’s neck, egging her on, hips rolling impatiently, giving her permission to do whatever the hell she wants. Katya obliges quickly, and Trixie can feel how her long fingers trail towards her inner thigh while the other hand steadies them both, propped against the wall.

“Shit, Trix, you’re so—“

She doesn’t have to finish the sentence for Trixie to know that Katya is aware just how ready she is. Maybe she does finish it, but Trixie can’t focus on anything but their heavy breaths, the way Katya leaves sloppy but hot kisses under her jawline and how her fingers hesitate for but a moment before they press into the fabric of her panties, now completely ruined by Trixie’s arousal.

“Please, Katya-“ She pleads, dragging her free hand down Katya’s spine, and then up, gripping here and there, until Katya pulls the thin fabric down Trixie’s thigh and lets the lace hit the floor when Trixie shimmies out of it. She feels cold for just a second, but then Katya’s fingers find her clit and start stroking slowly, deliberately, getting to know and learning Trixie’s response to everything she does.

“This okay?” Katya hums when their lips meet again and Trixie can’t speak, overwhelmed by both feeling Katya’s gentle touch and her heart thudding in response of having her this close to her.

She simply moans in response and it’s encouragement enough for Katya to slip her fingers inside her, first one, then two, then after several thrusts the third one, finding a steady rhythm that has them both tangled into a grinding, moaning mess. She can feel Katya’s free hand grab under her thigh and Trixie hooks her leg around the back of Katya’s, giving her more access, her moans becoming louder and more frequent with every thrust.

The way Katya gets her off is not slow, it’s not gentle or pretty, but her fingers do wonders as if this is the thousandth time they have done it, pounding her into the wall and whispering words Trixie cannot understand into her ear. It doesn’t take long for Trixie’s moans to become uneven and broken, sounding louder in the silence of Katya’s small apartment, and her thighs shake more violently every time fingers pump in and out of her. When Katya brushes her thumb over Trixie’s clit and starts moving it in circular motions, Trixie cries out her name, the heat pooling in her stomach for the entire evening exploding deep in her core and tipping her over the edge. For a moment, the entire world freezes and all she can hear is her own voice mixed with Katya’s heavy breaths and the loud beating of her own heart that skips twice when she comes.

Her arms finally wrap around Katya’s shoulders and she kisses her again. Her hips twitch into Katya’s until they come to a complete halt and she whimpers a little when Katya pulls out her fingers and licks them off casually. That shit-eating grin back on her face even though her hair is messier than usual and her bright red lipstick smudged across half of her cheek. Trixie thinks she’s, quite literally, the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Fuck, that was-“

“It was.” Katya responds, still fully pressed against Trixie even though she did pull back down Trixie’s dress, and they don’t move for several moments. Trixie is grateful, since she is aware that her knees might buckle if Katya lets her go. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Fuck off.” Trixie knows that she probably looks anything but, with her makeup smeared all over her face, mixed with sweat, and she doesn’t even try to think about how  disheveled her hair must look like. Her words make Katya laugh, then run her fingers through Trixie’s tangled hair when she kisses her puffy lips.

“You are.”

“You’re just lucky these lights are off.”

They laugh again, and Trixie feels like she’s coming to her senses. The walk to Katya’s apartment and the orgasm she just rode against Katya’s fingers completely sobered her up. The giddiness, however, just increased in intensity, especially now that she’s regained her breath and stepped away from the wall once Katya moved to the small kitchenette to get water for both of them.

There is no light in the rooms save the kitchen one, but Trixie navigates to the small washroom, nearly screeching at her own reflection in the mirror. The mascara and eyeliner are either smudged off completely or slightly melting down her face, her lips completely nude and swollen from Katya’s kisses. Other than that, though, she looks like she’s just  run a marathon and won it.

“Katya?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any makeup removers here?”

“I have some wipes by the towels!”

Trixie shakes her head and laughs, but decides it’s better than looking like Bozo the horror clown. She wipes the remaining makeup from her face and splashes herself with water, the reality of being in Katya’s personal space hitting her like a freight train and making her dizzy with happiness. She finds herself burying her face in her hands as she pees, holding back giddy laughter.

Trixie Mattel, in her late twenties, feeling like a highschool girl in love for the first time.

“In the bedroom!” Katya calls for her once she steps out of the toilet and takes off her boots, then pads in semi-darkness towards the only source of light, even though it’s still dim.

“Are you telling me that you’re actually a vampire and that’s why there’s no light in this ho— Oh.”

Katya has her back turned to her, but even in the room that’s dimly lit by the bedside lamp, she can see the toned muscles of her shoulderblades, cut off by the bralette that’s still on, and then continuing down the muscular back and to lace black underwear, ass and thighs looking like they were sculpted by the gods themselves.

“Oh wow.”

The sound of Trixie speaking from inside the bedroom makes Katya turn around. She has pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail, strands falling down her face and her lipstick still smudged. It takes all the will in the world not to pounce at her there and then.

“What is it?”

“You’re fucking ripped.”

The awe in Trixie’s voice and the fact that she can’t pull her eyes away from Katya’s visible abs send Katya into laughter that Trixie doesn’t really notice. All she wants is to run her tongue across that beautifully shaped, toned stomach.

“That’s hot yoga for you, mama.”

“Where can I fucking sign up?”

Trixie finally lifts her gaze to Katya, and they both grin at each other, all of the reluctance and insecurity from the beginning of the evening gone in a puff of smoke. She lets Katya take her by the hand and turn her around, lets her unzip her blue dress and slip it to the floor, lets her unbutton her bra and gape at her breasts as if they are the first pair she’s ever seen. Trixie, usually insecure every time a new girl sees her naked body, feels completely at ease when Katya’s fingers trail down her front, over the tiny stretch marks on her tits and stomach, and she’s laughing by the time Katya leads her to the bed and gets her to lie down, completely naked.

“You’re like a renaissance painting, holy shit.”

The compliment is so odd and so… Katya, and Trixie could cry at how lovely she is. Katya crawls up her body to kiss her again, and Trixie uses the time to get the bralette off of her and tosses it aside, feeling her cheeks still burning at how Katya’s eyes and hands worship every single inch of Trixie’s body she can reach.

Trixie, in turn, lets her own fingers run up and down Katya’s front, fingers pinching Katya’s hardened nipples and grinning when she hears her gasp. She tries to think of all the things she could and will do to Katya, but the other blonde beats her to it. Her lips are already replacing her hands, kissing the red marks of her neck she’s left in the hallway, trailing down her collarbone, chest, and taking one of Trixie’s nipples in her mouth, evoking another soft sound from Trixie, then another, and then she’s moving to her belly and settling her lithe body between Trixie’s bent legs.

“Happy birthday to me.” Trixie whispers, looking down at how patiently Katya’s lips kiss her lower stomach and the inside of her legs, taking her time this time around, making her more excited for returning the favor immediately after.

“It’s your birthday?”

She didn’t expect Katya to hear it, but now she’s smiling, head lifted from the fluffed pillows.

“Yeah. I turned older half an hour ago, when you fucked me into oblivion against the wall.”

Katya laughs, and Trixie shivers at the feeling of her breath between her thighs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t really celebrate it. Now can you please eat me out? It’s homophobic to make me suffer on my birthday.”

Katya grins at the feigned pout, running her thumb over Trixie’s inner thigh and kissing her pubic bone, causing Trixie’s hips to jerk upward.

“Yes ma’am.”

Happy fucking birthday to her, indeed.

—–

[cosmicats]

Answer all the questions

1: Is there a boy/girl in your life? yessss2: Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them? idk sure3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. The girls ran up to her, and Demeter followed; but as she crossed the threshold, she seemed taller to look at, and full of majesty, and Metaneira rose from her couch, and bade her to be seated.4: What’s something you really want right now? a reallyyy ybig hug from my girlfriend 5: Are you afraid of falling in love? slightly. i fell really really hard really quickly but it was mutual so it turned out perfectly.6: How can I win your heart? If you can be silly and make me laugh tbh 7: Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else? Unsure, but i do know we’ve slept on the ground /next/ to a couch lmao8: What’s the background on your cell? my gorgeous baby and I9: Name the last four beds you were sat on? mine, my hotel bed, my brother’s hotel bed, my baby’s bed.10: Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it? I know she does.11: Honestly, are things going the way you planned? I dunno, I never really had a plan to begin with so w/e, things are going great. (am learning to plan for the future tho.)12: Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts? lmao the iowa state police13: Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler? A Rottie 14: Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain? emotional def15: Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? zoo! i love animals16: Are you tired? always17: How long have you known your 1st phone contact? SInce 8th grade18: If you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be? I wouldn’t. 19: Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? helllll fucking no. fuck that. 20: When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? like two minutes ago21: If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? Yes. (but i do have the right person)22: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? A million times23: When was the last time you were disappointed? today when the pizza at the airport wasn’t v good :(24: Is there a certain quote you live by? You can do anything you set your mind to. No limits.25: What’s on your mind? my babyyyyy as alwayssss26: Do you have any tattoos? not yet but I will very soon27: What is your favorite color? It always changes tbh depending on the day. rn it’s the the sky on my flight today28: Next time you will kiss someone on the lips? tomorrow29: Who are you texting? my girl 30: Are you superstitious about anything? super about jinxing31: Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right? YA WENT SHOOTING W MY FAMILY LAST YEAR AND IT WAS MY TURN TO GO AND IT WAS MY GREAT GRANDPA’S REVOLVER AND I HAD A BAD FEELING AND SO I PASSED AND THEN IT LIKE, EXPLODED ON MY DAD SO.

32: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? I have a whole group chat of guys i can talk to33: Do you think anyone has feelings for you? lmao ya my girlfriend34: Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes? Jalyn35: What was the reason for your last breakup? lmao. too many to count. essentially though, it was very one sided36: Were you single on Valentines Day? no but it sure felt like it.37: Name one physical feature that you like about yourself, and one you dislike. my hair, the rest of me 38: What do your friends call you? gay39: Has anyone upset you in the last week? probably40: Have you ever cried over a text? yeah41: Where’s your last bruise located? my stomach42: What is it from? lmao my girlfriend (not hitting..)43: Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad? usually anytime im at my house44: Who was the last person you were on the phone with? my babyyy45: Do you have a favourite pair of shoes? not really idk 46: Do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day? i always wear hats tbh. idk, safety thing47: Would you ever go bald if it was the style? no i dont really follow trends? idk48: Do you make supper for your family? sometimes49: What’s the toughest decision you made this year? ughhhhh too many. maybe picking what college to go to50: Top 3 web-pages? maaan i dunno51: Do you know anyone who hates shopping? me52: Does anything on your body hurt? my heart bc it’s been like five days since ive seen my baby..53: Are goodbyes hard for you? i always cry. 54: What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself? coffee55: How is your hair? dead, but colorful56: What do you usually do first in the morning? text my gf57: Do you think two people can last forever? yes yes58: Think back to January 2007, were you single? lmao yeah59: Green or purple grapes? either or60: When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug? tomorrow61: Do you wish you were somewhere else right now? yessss62: What did your father teach you? how not to do things63: Where will you be 5 hours from now? asleep64: What were you doing at 8 this morning. packing65: This time last year, can you remember who you liked? yeaaaah66: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile? yes!67: Did you kiss or hug anyone today? i hugged my brother68: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? i wish i was home with jalyn69: Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? 3 years, yeah70: How many windows are open on your computer? two lmao71: If you won 100 million dollars, what would you buy first? ... savings bonds.. or a lifetime supply of mac for my baby72: What is your ringtone? parks and rec theme73: How old will you be in 5 months? still 18 lmao. almost 19 tho74: Where is your Mum right now? bed75: Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love? because i learned i deserved more76: Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? no sadly77: Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago? some78: Do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7? yeah lmao79: Is there anyone you know with the name Mike? yeah.80: Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms? yesss81: How many people have you liked in the past three months? 182: Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days? no not three days. ive been 900 miles away ugh83: Will you talk to the person you like tonight? yes84: You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with? no one bc i wouldnt do that85: If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care? yeah, i want her safe yaknow.86: What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie? THE SEATS WERE LEATHER RECLINERS AND YOU PRESSED A BUTTONON THE SEAT AND A WAITER CAME AND TOOK YOUR ORDER AND BROUGHT YOU FOOD, MY BROTHER GOT A BURGER DUDE87: Who was your last received call from? the most beautiful girl lemme tell you88: If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you? maaaan tbh when i was little i put caterpillers in fire ant hills and watched them get eaten alive so yeah probably as awful as that is89: What is something you wish you had more of? time with my girl..90: Have you ever trusted someone too much? yes.91: Do you sleep with your window open? when it’s nice92: Do you get along with girls? i guess i dunno93: Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth? nope. cleared that up a bit ago. went shitty tho94: Does sex mean love? sex means different things for everyone, and that’s okay. For me, yes. I would only have sex with someone that i really loved95: You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem? hell no. more like a dream come true96: Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring? nope97: Did you sleep alone this week? some days98: Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you? yesss99: Do you believe in love at first sight? I dunno. Sure. maybe not for me, but if it works for other people, I’m glad theyve found love100: Who was the last person that you pinky promise? probably my baby