#Snowfall Pilot

[skzdarlings]

05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

-

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again.  It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night.  With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail. 

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight.  Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up.  I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate.  Jisung is on his way to get you.  I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah?  If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there.  Buh-byyeeeee!”   

Oh, that son of a bitch. 

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you.  You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times. 

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides.  Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face.  Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again. 

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself. 

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands.  He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true. 

Han Jisung is the worst. 

Han Jisung is your nemesis. 

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout.  You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age.  You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat. 

Jisung honks again. 

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up.  You are not in the mood for his shenanigans. 

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.   

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh.  “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”  

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling. 

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death.  You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking.   He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted.  He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore.   When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger. 

“Do not even think about it,” you say.  “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says.  “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment.  Usually.  The weather has traffic horrifically backed up.  Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport. 

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways.  “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.”  He nods, strumming the steering wheel again. 

The radio blathers on, you barely listening.  You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at.  Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again.  You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.   

The snow comes down harder.  It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside.  Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow.  Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window. 

“Shit,” he says. 

He changes stations to catch a road update.  Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city. 

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say.  It comes out wheezy.  “It’s winter!  Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow!  God!  What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course. 

“How else are we getting downtown?” 

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face. 

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says.  “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?”  Jisung asks.  “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse.  You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness. 

“Fine,” you say.  “What are we doing then?”   

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign.  You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence.  The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow.   It holds the promise of warmth.   You hurry inside. 

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell.  Someone appears to check you in. 

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says.  “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather.  We have exactly one room left available.  It’s a nice cozy double bed.  Sounds good?”  

“Ummm…”  You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain.  “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you.  “We’re a lucky couple.  Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?” 

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps. 

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation. 

“No, sorry.”  She gives you a funny look but shakes her head.  “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight.  You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.” 

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card.  “Right, baby?” 

You smack his ass, hard and swift.  His eyes widen.   You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl. 

-

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole.   You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears.  He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying.  But no, he lays there peacefully.  His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face.  He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being.  His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music. 

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut.  It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat. 

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say. 

He sticks his tongue out at you.   

“Very mature,” you say. 

You lay down with your back to him.  After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him.  He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face.  You can hear his music but say nothing. 

You can’t sleep.  You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him. 

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside.  There is a long stretch of silence in the dark.  You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life.  Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over.  You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t.  He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark. 

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back.  “Absolutely not.  We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines.  “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what?  Hatred?  You hate me?”  Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face. 

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you.   Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good.  The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly.  Certainly not to his face.  Certainly not beside him in bed. 

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!”  Jisung says.  “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me?  How could you hate me?  I’m delightful.” 

Even now, the clown is trying to joke.  Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it?  Everything is just a joke all the time.  Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen.  But you aren’t laughing.  Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check.  Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning.  You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet.  Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly.  It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch.  The worst you’ve ever met, right?” 

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say. 

“No way, you were just talking in a voice.  What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself.  He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back.  You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you.  It puts you at an impasse.  With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts. 

You laugh, a joyless cackle. 

“If,” you repeat.  “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.” 

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him.  He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset.  His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers. 

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes.  You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met.  And it—”

You are not sad.  You refuse to be sad.  This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore.  But you are angry –  with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes. 

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath.  You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear. 

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say.  “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet.  Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along.  And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now.  You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose. 

“Yes,” you say.  “We did.  We got along amazing.  We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly.  It’s like I just forgot to be shy.   I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused.  “I don’t get it.  It was Changbin’s birthday, right?  We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye.  Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression.  He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you. 

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap.  “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch.  The worst I’ve ever met.’  And you were laughing.  Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me.  And I had no idea why.  Why?  What had I said or done?  It was humiliating.  And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.”  You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic.  “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you.  From anyone else I wouldn’t care.  But you were the one person I expected to understand me.  The one person who got what it was like.  So to hear you saying those things—god.  I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you.  And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head.  He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing.  “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed.  “Just… just hold on.” 

He runs away.  You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven.  He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom.  “Just… here.” 

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek.  You snatch it away from him, frowning. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says.  He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean.   He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands.  When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale.  “Okay,” he says.  “Look.  I’m sorry.  I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry.  And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say.  “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.” 

“Right.”  He runs his hand through his hair again.  It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales.  “God.  Okay.  This is gonna sound so stupid.  But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually.  I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse.  I know.  I shouldn’t have said it at all.  I totally do know that.  But also… I said it, but I didn’t.  What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment. 

“What,” you say, “the fuck?” 

He waves his hands around defensively. 

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.” 

“A compliment,” you say.  “A compliment?  You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast.  He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter.  He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box.  He dodges that too, ducking down again.  The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground. 

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow. 

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender.  He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says.  “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say.  You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too. 

“Thank you,” he says.  He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back.  It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit. 

You cross your arms.  You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know.  Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud. 

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication. 

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah.  He closes his eyes and nods his head.  “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time.  The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?”  Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment.  “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I love bitches.  No wait.”  He shakes his head.  “That came out wrong.  Hold on.  I love… well, yeah, no, bitches.  Mean girls.  Bullies.  Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me.  He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says.  “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.” 

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief. 

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong.  Remember when you told off that creep at the party?  The one who was bugging Felix?  You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing.  I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking.  Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.” 

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission.  You had no idea Jisung saw you that way.  The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated.   When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before.  “Explain,” you say. 

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender. 

“Yup,” he says.  “Okay.  Fine.  Cool.  I like when women boss me around.  I like when they are mean to me.  I like when they hurt me and make me cry.   It… it gets my dick hard, okay?  I love bitches.  I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night. 

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is.  You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand. 

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply. 

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping. 

Oops, Jisung never hated you. 

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long. 

“So just to clarify,” you say.  “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands.  He laughs too, even while looking a little pained.  “I did!  I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride.  I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen.  I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity. 

“I know, I really am,” he says.  He draws an X over his chest.  “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth.  I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.” 

He says it jokingly, of course.  But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding. 

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick.  Maybe your emotions are right at the surface.  Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding. 

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him. 

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation.  “Slap you where?  Your face?” 

This clearly catches him off guard.  He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out.  He thumps a fist on his chest. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says.  “Sure.  Whatever, you know.  You know.” 

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other.  You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat.  All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream.  Heat simmers below the surface of your skin.  “And you like that?  Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says.  “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now?  Oh my god.  Hold on.”  He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position.  “Right, okay,” he says.  “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling.  You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement. 

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too.  “Don’t get shy.  You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin.  You shake your head.  “I dunno.  Just.  Do something to earn a slap I guess.  It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.” 

“Do something?” he asks.  “Uh, I dunno.  As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap.  I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—” 

Your slap him across the face.  The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.   

Jisung looks genuinely surprised.  His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open.  He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before.  The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place. 

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low. 

“I don’t know,” you say softly.  You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver.  You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek.  “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again. 

You don’t ask for build-up this time.  You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek. 

This time it makes him whimper.  It flushes you with heat. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  “What else?” 

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.”  He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath.  He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place.  “Um,” he says.  “Choking.  F-fingers?  Fingers in my mouth...  Um, haha, I can’t think.  Bondage?  Yeah.  Erm, denial.  Overstimulation.  Puuussy… yes, um, pussy.  On my face please.  Uhh… Punishment.  Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.” 

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back.  He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down. 

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book.  “Yeah.  I hate you so much.  You’re my worst enemy.  Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle.  “You’re hot.  You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming.  He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth.   He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists.  You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head.  He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss.  You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more. 

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him.  It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say.  “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.” 

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard.  You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation.  You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest.   He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head. 

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction.   When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him.  “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes. 

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear.  Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning. 

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish.  His smile is far too innocent.  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say. 

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him.  “I still hate you.” 

“Oh god, yes,” he says.  His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest.  “More.” 

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head.  “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung.  I’m going to ruin you.” 

“Fuck.” 

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face.  You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over.  What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you.   You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him. 

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.   You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants.  He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice. 

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well. 

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin.  He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side.  He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips.  His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.  

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth.  “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs. 

“Oh,” you say.  Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough.  “I see.  You want to put your dick inside me, baby?  Hmm?  You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?” 

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out.   He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head.  “Please, please.   Yes.” 

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck.  You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression. 

“Okay,” you say.  “Get ready for me then.”  

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency.  Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover. 

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you.   He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist.   He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again.   It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth.   You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little. 

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you.   You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him.   His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace.  He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest. 

“Look at me,” you say. 

He blinks his eyes open.  You smile.

“Good boy.” 

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him.  It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper.   You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm.  You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back. 

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation. 

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.  

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you.  Your whole body draws taut for its crest.   

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy.  You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you.  “Not yet,” you say.  “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes.  “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy.  “Are you gonna be good or bad?” 

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you.  You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out.   His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.  

His eyes open again, watery and huge. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat.  A deep breath shudders out of him.  “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting.  “Oh! Fuck!” 

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices. 

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up.  He follows with a gasp. 

“I should hit you again for that,” you say. 

You slide off him, carefully.  He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom.  After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out.   It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away. 

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again.  You get off the bed and drag him to follow.  “I’m not done with you.” 

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming.  His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience.  He thumps down heavily onto his knees.  When he sways, you straighten him.  He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding. 

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in.  For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy.  You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished. 

You lower your leg off his shoulder.  Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess. 

“Wow,” he says.  He looks up at you.  “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.  

“Me too,” you say, making him smile. 

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb.  You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face.   You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.  

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort.  “I am!  Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say.  “He told me he was working?”

“Working?”  Jisung furrows his brow.  “Huh?  We don’t have anything coming up at work.  He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family?  He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.” 

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.  

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud.  “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that!  I mean, I’m glad we did but…”  You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you. 

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks. 

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can.  I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall. 

“Well,” you say, looking at him.  You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you.  “That’s fine,” you say.  “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up.  Looks like I found a replacement.” 

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says.  “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that.  That’s just for me, right?” 

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight.  You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead.  He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours.  He smiles back. 

“Yeah,” you say.  “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.” 

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing.  He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back.  You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too. 

[clottedscream]

this was Good Luck, Babe for men

[Image ID: Fanart of the characters Alphonse Harding and Byron Ford from I Am Your Beast, an indie first-person-shooter game. The drawing is an interpretation of the scene where Harding removes the tracking chip from Ford's leg. Alphonse, posed on his knees in the snow, facing the viewer, is a black man wearing mostly repurposed, camo colored cold-weather military clothing, which contrasts with his bright blue scarf and blue beanie. His face is faintly scarred. His expression, however, is calm and focused. Ford is posed half-laying down on the ground beside Harding, straddling him, with one leg hitched up into Harding's lap and the other behind him. Ford has pale skin and dark eyes, but the rest of his features are obscured by the bulky tan pilot's uniform he wears. He props himself up with one arm, upon which he also wears a pink mitten. Notably, he and Harding wear the same C.O.I. red goggles and ear defenders. Ford's expression is pained- his hair clings to his face with sweat despite the snow- but he's smiling. Harding is using a hunting knife to slice into Ford's leg, though most of this action is obscured by the placement of Harding's hands, which cradle Ford's leg. Harding's thumb is raised to wick blood away from the incision wound. In dialogue bubbles, ford says, in shaky text, "It's weird. I'm watching you cut me, but I can't feel it." and Harding replies, with a small and matter-of-fact looking speech bubble, "That's shock." The image is on a gray background, roughly shaded to evoke dense snowfall, and both characters have condensation clouds forming from their breath. Their poses lean together in a way that is vaguely heart shaped. The top right corner has an abandoned rough sketch of Harding aiming a gun. I tried making this image ID as homoerotic as the image cuz i wanted to capture just how gay this scene from the game was. did it work? End ID]

[happy-beeeps]

Snowfall

Pairing: Crosshair x reader!

Summary: when a new mission brings up old traumas, you remind Crosshair of your new life

Warnings: talk of death, trauma

Wc: 1k!

a/n: this is part of the song fic exchange with @cloneficgiftexchange !!! This is my fic for @urfriendlyneighbornightfury :) unfortunately I’ve never seen LOTR so I hope I did the songs justice!

It’s dark outside, as it normally is in the deep of winter on Pagodan. The system’s frigid air made it the perfect place for criminals to lay low, because honestly, who in their right mind would come here?

You, evidently.

Hunter had been pretty sparse with details on the intel on this trip. It was low risk, medium reward, as almost every bounty had been in the days since the rest of the batch had settled on Pabu. Everyone had established themselves easily into the lifestyle of the islanders, picking up quiet, comfortable jobs to support the village. Everyone except Crosshair.

Hunter had attempted to get him to work as a secondary Sheriff, but it turns out an island as small as Pabu, really only had need for the one. He had contemplated working as a pilot, a captain, but nothing seemed to fit.

So, he went off-system. And where he went, you followed.

What Cross had in ranged skills, you had in hand to hand. Your first meeting was a testament to this, knife pressed against his throat when the batch had wandered down a dark alley looking for a rogue separatist in the underbelly of Coruscant. You’d been inseparable ever since.

Now, however, you were regretting that notion, as the blanket of snow streaked across the inky black sky of Pagoda. The shitty public house you found yourself staying in offered little in the way of comfort, and you scooched further into the mattress to press yourself against Cross’ body in a desperate display of cold–only he wasn’t there.

He’s standing with his back to you, silhouetted against the pane of the viewport, clothes stretched taut over his lithe frame. “Cross?” you murmur, moving to get out of the creaking bed.

“Go back to bed cyare,” he whispers, flinching at the soft sound of your voice.

“Not till you tell me what’s wrong.” You move to stand behind him, hands pressed flat against his stomach, feeling the muscles there relax at your touch.

“And if I say nothing is wrong?”

“I’ll haul you back to bed for lying.”

He smirks, the sight silhouetted against the moonlight. You feel his body release slightly under your touch, and he speaks, “The snow.”

It hangs there unspoken, the implication of what the snow means. The snow means fallen brothers, it means a blaster shot into Mayday’s chest and blood on his hands. It means months where he ran from you.

“Is there anything I can do?”

He lets out a shaky breath, then stills. “No. You’ve done enough. Taken me back when you shouldn’t have.”

“I won’t say you had nothing to apologize for, but we aren’t all blameless here. I should’ve worked harder to get to you sooner.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he moves his hand down to lay atop yours on his stomach, “it’s just…”

“Heavy.”

A breath and then, “Heavy.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what? Barton IV?” He sucks a hiss in through his teeth, “no particularly.”

“Then we don’t have to. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

And you do, about an hour later. You’re back in bed, still awake, listening to the wind scream past the viewport. “I’ve buried my brothers, seen them buried under the snow,” he sighs, head inclining just enough to lean on yours.

“But look where that led you,” you press against him, speaking softly, like you’d scare the moment away. In the weeks after returning to Pabu, the walls Cross built to keep others out slowly began to crack, but even now those fleeting moments of vulnerability still felt so rare.

“It’s hard… to accept that this is my life. I’ve been fire and death for long.”

The words are bitter and cold, and they ring with a clarity that makes you pause your absentminded dragging across his skin. “But you don’t have to be anymore. We can stop this lifestyle whenever you want,”

“Can we?”

A beat. Then, the answer. Simple and clear as day. “If you want it.”

“I do.” He rolls over on his side, pulling you close to his chest and tucking you in against him. “Mesh’la I do. But even this, this lifestyle. You can have more on Pabu than with me.”

“I don’t want anything on Pabu if I can’t have it with you, don’t you see? What are you afraid of, you’ve been unsettled since we got here?”

“You should be terrified of me,” the chill in his voice nearly eclipses the chill in the air as he speaks, “but you aren’t. I am death, it follows me everywhere.”

“Cross,” you sigh, breath fanning across him, “you deserve to let yourself feel happy.”

“But you deserve—“

“Crosshair, I’ve killed people. I’ve killed good people, bad people. I was a mercenary. I’ve let myself be happy, and be happy with you. Not only am I not afraid of you, you forget that you should fear me too.”

“Maybe a little healthy fear is good,” he murmurs as he nips at your ear, “but thank you. For everything.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” you answer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He answers with a kiss in return, hot and deep and tasting of whiskey and smoke, of him, and you decide that fear aside, pain aside, you think you can live in this forever.

When his grip on your back tightens, you think he feels it too.

[cordonianroyalairlines]

All I Want for Christmas Part 1

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake, Liam x Max

Word Count: 2,475

Rating: General

Warnings for this chapter: None

A/N: Listen. I had an idea for the @choicesprompts #rewritechallenge holiday edition. I had the whole scene in my head, but then I decided it needed a little lead-up. Then I decided the lead-up needed a lead-up and then these characters completely just took over, threw my script out the window, and took a whole detour to examine a little budding romance between Liam and Max when this story was supposed to be focused on Drake and Riley (and it still is, mostly).

Long story short, it got a little out of hand so I have split it into two chapters. I'm tagging all of the following:

@choicesprompts rewrite challenge, holiday edition TRR x Untamed Heart (one of my all-time favorite movies). @choicesficwriterscreations holiday prompt: Stuck together in the snow; @choicesdecember2023 Christmas and @choicesholidays: This is the worst Christmas ever.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Lassiter, have a pleasant stay!” Riley waved with a smile painted on her face as the last passenger debarked. The smile faded from her face as the guests disappeared down the jet bridge and her eyes took in the heavy snowfall blanketing the runway.

Max noticed her despondent expression. “You okay, Ri?”

She turned toward her best friend and coworker with a sigh. “Remind me again why I volunteered to work this flight?”

“Uh…because your sister is getting married in less than two months, and you needed the overtime to pay for the ridiculous over-the-top bachelorette party she wants.”

“Right. Amelia,” Riley nodded to herself, “I’m doing this for her.”

“I think you do too much for her, Ri,” Max clucked at her like a mother hen, “She takes advantage of your generous nature.”

“Oh, Max, it’s fine. You only get married once!”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Okay,” a giggle burst out of her, “Hopefully, she only gets married once!”

“Frankly, I’m surprised she found anyone willing to marry her. Is there something wrong with him?”

“Max!” Riley laughed as she thumped him playfully on the shoulder before turning serious. “I just hope we’re able to take off tomorrow as planned.” Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and she had promised her mother she’d be home so she could spend Christmas day with her parents and siblings.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Riley turned toward the voice to find the pilot striding toward them. Captain Liam Rys stopped in front of the flight attendants to announce, “There’s a blizzard headed straight for us.”

“Maybe we could just fly out right now—” Riley started hopefully.

“That’s a negative,” Liam cut her off, “that would put me over my flight limit for the day. We’ll proceed to the hotel as planned and hope for the best but be prepared to spend Christmas here.”

“Remind me why you agreed to fly into Estonia, the blizzard capital of the world, two days before Christmas?” Max grumbled.

Liam’s eyes flicked to him in annoyance. “Because of the obscene amount of money Mr. Lassiter was willing to pay for me to do so. You’ll thank me when you get your next paycheck and there’s a substantial bonus on it, on top of the holiday bonus you just received.”

“It’s okay,” Max shrugged with a tinge of disappointment in his tone, “My brother is in Japan anyway.”

Liam’s expression softened a little. “I’m sure he wishes he could spend Christmas with you.”

“Well, he’s flying with Leo, which he loves. I’m just disappointed that we’re almost never assigned to the same flight.”

Liam averted his eyes, unwilling to tell Max that was on purpose. Bertrand had requested that Max not be on the same flight as himself after the younger Beaumont’s enthusiasm became embarrassing for him. Max had gushed to a passenger about his pride in his older sibling, proudly articulating that, “My brother’s the co-pilot. He’s really good at it. He’s almost good enough to be the pilot!”

Liam shuffled his feet awkwardly, then nodded at Max, “Yes, well…. See you at the hotel.”

“You will?” Max’s head whipped around in surprise. Liam had never expressed an interest in seeing him outside of work before.

“Well, he was a little snippy,” Riley observed as Liam disappeared down the sky bridge.

“But did he seem….I don’t know…interested in-“ a flush crawled up his neck and then flared across his face, “Never mind. Of course not.”

Riley’s brow furrowed. “Interested in what?”

“Nothing. Let’s just get this cabin cleaned up so we can go.”

***

Riley awoke the next morning to sheets of snow pouring from the sky, blanketing the city in white as far as she could see from her hotel window. Which wasn’t that far. The snow was coming down too fast and too thick for her to see past the parking lot.

“Shit!” She aggressively pulled the curtains closed and dove back under the covers.

***

“So, what have you two been up to all day?” Liam asked as the four-member flight crew sat down for dinner in the hotel restaurant.

“Well, I slept in, then I called my mom to let her know I wouldn’t be making it home today and probably not tomorrow either. Then I drown my sorrows in a steaming hot bubble bath.” Riley responded as she pulled the menu over to her.

“Yeah, but then we saw a movie,” Max reminded her. Turning to Liam, he rambled excitedly, “This hotel has a theater in it. There was popcorn and everything! And then we took a cooking class! Can you believe that? The hotel chef hosts a class here once a week, but they did an extra class today because it snowed everyone in.”

Liam smiled at Max’s enthusiasm. “That sounds like fun. Now I feel boring. I read all day. Drake, what about you?”

“What about me?” Drake was busy shoveling a complimentary roll into his mouth.

Riley laughed. “Have you not been listening to the conversation? He wants to know what you did to keep busy today, you dork.”

Drake grabbed his water glass and chugged the cold liquid down to cover the fact that he had not heard a word of the conversation since Riley stopped talking. He was still picturing her in that bubble bath. When he sat the glass down, he responded, “I did my usual morning workout. The gym here is excellent. Since I couldn’t go for a run, I hit the heavy bags and then swam a few laps.”

“How many is a few?” Max asked.

“Twenty.” Drake’s eyes flicked to Max as he answered before landing quickly back on Riley’s face searching for any clue that she was impressed, or at least interested in him.

Not that he cared. She was a coworker, and he didn’t date coworkers.

“All before lunch?” She raised an eyebrow.

He wasn’t sure if she found his morning activities impressive or stupid. Her expression gave away nothing. “I find it hard to sit still,” he answered.

Liam scoffed, “You sit in the cockpit for hours at a time.”

“First of all, that’s different. I’m doing plenty as you well know and second of all, that’s why I need more physical movement when I’m on the ground.”

“Makes sense to me!” Max nodded emphatically as the waitress arrived with the menus.

They ordered their food and ate while making companionable chit chat. After dinner, Max suggested they continue the night across the lobby.

The hotel bar was crowded. The four coworkers quickly parted in the crowd. Drake and Liam navigated to a small table in the back and ordered drinks.

“You don’t want to ask her to dance?” Liam nodded across the room to the dance floor where Max and Riley were laughing and twirling to the music.

Drake followed Liam’s eyes and froze as he watched her sway and shimmy to the thump of heavy base. “I don’t dance.”

“I’ve seen you dance.”

“Not well.”

“So, you’re worried about embarrassing yourself in front of her?”

“What? No!” Drake reached for the tumbler of single malt scotch as the server placed it on the table in front of him and took a long pull as his mind spun with ways to shift the conversation away from his nonexistent love life. “What’s going on with you and Max?”

Liam startled so hard that bourbon sloshed over the rim of his glass. He stared at Drake in a blind panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean….you usually pay no attention to what the flight attendants are doing when we have layovers. Yet you invited everyone to dinner tonight and you’re the one that was watching them dance. I’m pretty sure you’re not into Riley because if you were, you wouldn’t be pushing me toward her. So that leaves Max. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He lowered his glass to the table with a sigh. “It’s that obvious?”

“To me, but I’ve known you for a long time, Li.”

Liam blew out a long breath. “Shit.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re interested?”

“No,” Liam shook his head vigorously, “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“So many reasons! Starting with the fact that I’m his boss and that’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.”

“Not if he likes you back,” Drake countered.

“That’s not likely.”

Again, Drake asked, “Why not?”

Liam scoffed as he gestured toward the dance floor. “I mean, look at him! He’s fun and popular and hilariously funny. And look at those dance moves! He’s interesting and cool. What could he possibly see in me?”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, man.”

“I’m a stick in the mud and you know it. I was the president of my debate team. He was the lead in his school’s production of Beetle Juice.”

“How do you know- “

“Bertrand told me.”

“So, you’ve been pumping his brother for information?”

“Not the point. He’s amazing and fun and talented and I’m….me.”

“Liam, come on, man, you-“

“When I was twelve, I read law books for fun.”

“Geez, okay. Never mind. You’re definitely going to die alone.”

“Shut up,” Liam laughed, “I know you think I’m being dramatic.“

“You fly planes for a living,” Drake reminded him. “In my experience, a lot of people find that sexy.”

“Yes, well, I know your experience is quite extensive in that area but-“

“Are you calling me a man whore?”

“If the shoe fits….” Liam muttered into his drink.

“Insult me all you want, but it isn’t going to change the fact that you’ve got it bad. You should just tell him.”

“Oh, okay, Mr. I don’t like Riley.”

Fuck. Drake took another long drink. The conversation had come full circle. His eyes drifted across the room to find her again. She was still with Max.

***

Riley led Max off the dance floor and to a table as she flagged down a server for some water. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been acting squirely all night and you keep looking around like you’re searching for somebody. What’s that about?”

Max flushed, “Ah….I think I might have a thing for Liam.”

“Wait…what?” Riley shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth.

“I don’t know….” Max dropped his eyes to the table. “I mean, you know, he’s hot or whatever.”

“Max!” She slapped his shoulder. “Since when? And why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “Just recently I’ve started to notice him more, that’s all. He’s always being nice to me and- “

“He’s nice to everyone.”

“I know, but it’s more than that! I can’t explain it, okay? It’s just…the way he looks at me sometimes….”

“I have never seen you act shy before! You hit on that model last week!”

“Oh, him? Yeah, but that was just--”

“That man is an international star, and you had zero qualms asking for his snap.”

“I know, but- “

“And he gave it to you!”

“Sure, but Liam isn’t just a pretty face, Riley! He’s so fucking smart and serious. He’s sophisticated, and there’s just no way he’d be into a goofball like me.”

“Ah, Maxey, anyone with half a brain would be into you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“Yes. But also because it’s true.”

“No, it’s not. I’m the general fuckup in my family. Just ask Bertrand. Or my father.”

“Max, you’re not a fuckup!” Riley admonished. “You’re just different from your brother and father, thank God! I’m sorry, I know you love him, but Bertrand is the most boring man alive, and your father is a dick, so please don’t judge yourself by his opinion of you.”

“Bert’s not boring. He just had to grow up fast. My father put a lot of pressure on him and he, unlike me, rose to the challenge. I mean, look at us. He’s a pilot and I’m a flight attendant. Do you remember what my father said when I told him I wanted to be a flight attendant?”

“Yes, but on the bright side, it was the first time he acknowledged your sexual orientation.”

Max snorted, “That’s not funny, Riley.”

“You laughed.”

He bumped her shoulder with his own with an amused shake of his head, “If your point is that my father is a homophobic, controlling, abusive asshole whose opinion should mean nothing to me or anyone else with a lick of self-respect, then point taken.” He lifted his glass to her.

She lifted hers and tapped it into his with a grin. “My work here is done. Now go over there and ask him to shoot darts or something.”

***

“All right, well, this has been fun, but I’m going up to bed now.” Liam pushed away from the table and stood up, stretching as he did so.

“You really are a stick in the mud,” Drake laughed as the server cleared their table and asked if he could get them anything else. “Yeah, an unopened bottle of what we’ve been drinking tonight.”

Liam turned to go but froze as a voice that sent heat shocking through him spoke, “Hey…Liam….you wanna…go play darts or something?”

He turned to find Max smiling at him. Trying to push down the rising panic in his throat, his eyes flicked to Drake, who just gave him an amused smile, then back to Max, who looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Uh…. sure.”

“Great!” Relief washed across Max’s features. Then he remembered himself and begrudgingly turned to include Drake in the invitation. “Would you like to join us?”

“Nah, I’m good. You two go ahead. I’ve got a bottle of top-shelf whiskey, and this hotel has steak on their room service menu. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then, goodnight and Merry Christmas,” Liam didn’t meet Drake’s eyes as he waved bye and then followed Max to the dart boards lined up against the far wall.

Drake chuckled to himself as he took the bottle from the server and thrust a handful of bills at him. He started for the door, then thought better of it and backtracked to the bar, reaching across and grabbing a clean tumbler to take to his room with him.

He had to dodge a bunch of drunk people on his way back, causing him to veer off course until he was damn near on the other side of the room.

It wasn’t so much that he saw her as he felt her presence. His head lifted and his eyes somehow went straight to her despite the dozen or so people between him and the table she was seated at. Without making a conscious decision, his body angled in her direction, and he made his way over to her, reminding himself the whole way that he didn’t get involved with coworkers.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Home in Time

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Bradley comes home early on the first snowfall of the year.

Word count: ~1.5k

Warnings: Some suggestiveness, tiny bit of language. Lots of fluff

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me during Nanowrimo. Glad to have this written and finished finally as just a little blurb. Hope I did Rooster’s character right. I love this soft boy. Thank you as always for reading, and I’d love to hear your thoughts!

--

The air stood still under cascades of snowflakes running across the white landscape of your driveway. The sky moved in one mass, covered by a layer of clouds. You were bundled up in a warm coat, boots, hat and all for the first real snowfall of the year — just to make the journey out to go grocery shopping. You didn’t mind the weather and its cold softness, though you did spend a bit longer near the hot food section in the store than necessary before coming back home.

You’d gotten used to the slowly growing chill and wind of the fall days, often appreciative of the noise to fill your empty house. Bradley had been gone on a mission for months now, much longer than others as of late. You missed his warmth as autumn drifted into winter, wishing he was here to watch the fluffy flakes fall through the sky.

You barely heard much about his mission during late-night calls with him. Though it was top secret, you were certain he would’ve slipped a detail here or there on accident if you got him flustered enough. 

But both of you preferred talking about other things in those times between dusk and dawn. You let him ask you about your day and talk about your frustrating coworker or recipe you couldn’t seem to get just right, knowing it would help take his mind off things he didn’t want to think about. And you asked him about the good parts of his days, mostly consisting of the beach and the other pilots.

Your mind went to him now as it usually did, even while pushing the car door closed with your hip. You walked to the door, your arms full of all the groceries, refusing to take another trip in this chill. 

As the garage door creaked shut, your feet slipping off your boots with teetering steps, your ears picked up more sound than just your own movements filling the air. In those brief seconds, the noise felt almost foreign, yet nostalgic at the same time.

An old, familiar rock song floated toward you, the sound of metal clanging, bubbling, and soft humming joining the mix. Your face broke into an ear-splitting smile as you tried setting the bags down in the gentlest way while every muscle vibrated, screaming at you to run forward. Once free of the groceries, your legs moved quickly, slipping across the floor in your long socks, around the corner, and into the kitchen. 

Your eyes blinked a few times, not quite believing the sight in front of you. In front of the stove stood Bradley, clad in a thick sweater. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of his wide chest, next to a large pot. 

The second he opened up his arms, you ran toward him, crashing your body against his. Your fingers hooked around each other at his back. Your muscles began to shake from squeezing so hard, but they relished in the weight of his hands around you. A heavy sigh escaped your mouth, your head pressing into him and shutting your eyes. 

In a laughing sigh, Bradley said, “God, I missed you, honey.” He pulled back, bringing his hands up to your face. His fingers brushed against your hat, sending melting snowflakes to the ground. 

Your gaze connected with his, the tiny bit of sunlight available drifting in from the kitchen window making his eyes bright, his face soft. His hands came to your jaw, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones. You had so many questions and things to say as tears threatened to spill, but as he leaned forward, none of it mattered as much. Not when his lips pressed against yours, his body radiating heat onto you in rolling waves. 

Pulling away, he pressed his forehead against yours. You could feel slight stubble along his cheek, though refused to look away even as the tears pricked at the edges of your eyes.

“When did you get back?” you whispered, afraid saying anything too loud would break this dream in front of you.

“An hour ago,” he breathed out, the air passing down your skin. “Got to go home early and wanted to surprise you.”

You giggled against him, a smile spreading across your face.“Well you certainly achieved that, Rooster,” you said, giving him a fake salute.

Your laughing only increased as he rolled his eyes. “I can’t say I missed your humor, sweetheart. And I got enough of Rooster out west, so none of that from you too. Or else,” he said. But at your teasing expression, eyebrow raised high, he brought a hand down to slap your ass. 

His only response to your yelp was his smile turning to a smirk before speaking again. “Now, I wanted to surprise you with dinner, but I ran out of broth, so you might be the only one having it,” he told you, reaching a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.

Thought you immediately missed his warmth, you walked backward with a small grin. A few seconds later, you brought a box of broth from your groceries, throwing it to Bradley.

He caught it easily, his face much brighter than before. “You know me so well.”

Laughing, you said, “And I didn’t even know you were coming.” 

“Oh, no, that’s for later,” he told you, giving you a wink before turning back to dinner. You removed your coat and hat, tossing them somewhere to be remembered when less important things were happening.

As he added the broth and sprinkled in various spices, you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his back.

Setting the spoon aside, Bradley let it simmer, turning around and wrapping his arms back around you. For a few minutes, the two of you just stood there, rocking back and forth as he hummed along to whatever song it had changed to.

Then, wrapping one of his hands along your hip and the other engulfing yours, he pulled back with that soft smile. He moved both of your bodies in a slow dance around the kitchen, keeping his chest close to yours the entire time, as if an inch between you would be too much. 

He spun you out in a dramatic twirl, bringing you back in and dropping you into a dip, making a contagious smile break out across your face and giggles bubble up out of your mouth. He pulled you back to him, your bodies only a breath apart, when you whispered, “I see you haven’t lost your touch, lover boy.”

He began to say some sort of cheesy line about the only thing he lost was your touch on his… but you pressed your mouth against him, a smile on your lips. His face felt so warm as your palms cupped his cheeks, your hands never wanting to leave him in case he’d disappear again. They still stayed once the timer went off, a whimper barely registering in the back of your throat at the loss as he pulled back. 

You moved to his arms, feeling the muscle under his flannel while he finished the soup. He made no comment or sign of annoyance to your holding as he ladled the soup into bowls, only a content look on his face. The two of you moved together to the table, one hand entwined with his the entire time while the other held the spoon. 

You let out a groan after tasting, muttering, “Bradley, you come home early and cook me delicious soup? How did I get so lucky?” With a grin, your words hinted at joking, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be too sarcastic at a statement so true. 

His thumb rubbed back and forth along the backs of your fingers. “I made the soup because I’m so lucky. Tryin’ to keep you here, ‘cause I have no idea how I got you in the first place,” he said, his mustache curving up with his smile. 

Bringing your hand to his mouth, he kissed your knuckles one by one, resting his cheek on it and closing his eyes. They only opened once you whispered, the honeyed colors of his irises humming. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” he said, tilting his head. “Though I’d be more glad if you were on the couch picking out a movie while I made us hot chocolate.” Oh, he knew the way to your heart on this snowy day.

He laughed at the small gasp and beaming smile coming from you, grabbing both the bowls to set in the sink. Bradley could wash them later, but it wasn’t just any day he could watch the way you wrapped blankets around yourself while giggling, making him the happiest man alive.

You set up some movie you’d both seen a million times, though still loving the recite the best liens. It was funny, nostalgic, and brought a comfort you hadn’t quite felt in a bit, but most of your attention was on Bradley as you laid on his chest. You still laughed at all the right places and took sips of hot chocolate in between scenes. Yet, feeling his breaths rise and fall, his hand resting against your back, the snow drifting to the ground outside all felt more important than anything in that moment.

He was back. He was holding you. He was here.

@reidslovely​

[dilf-din]

hiii! can i request things you said between your teeth with Poe?

Hi nonny! I’m so sorry this took so long. I actually just stumbled upon the ask game you were referring to when you sent this in.

This got a little bit away from me, but I had so much fun writing for him!

Please request more Star Wars boys with one of these numbers!

Snowfall

Character: Poe Dameron x f!reader

WC: 1650

Warnings: light language, mild depictions of wounds, mention of a needle, reader has a nickname

Since the empire drove the rebellion away from its base on D’Qar, Generals Dameron and Organa had been trying to find a new permanent base. Being left with next to nothing on Crait after Ren’s attack, everyone was wracking their brains for somewhere safe to rebuild.

“Hoth, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before!” Leia exclaimed. She recounted a story of when the rebellion had to flee the base there when she was younger.

“It might be a little outdated, but it’s roomy and secluded. Poe, I want you and Sharp to check it out. Take one of the tandem X-Wings and see if it’s worth a shot.”

Poe nodded and headed to find you. He knew you’d be in the hanger trying to salvage what was left of the fleet. Few people believed in the cause as strongly as you do. You had been with General Organa since the early days as one of her best pilots and sharpshooters, earning you your call sign, Sharp. Poe, being just as driven, found a quick kinship with you when he joined the rebellion. The two of you had flown together for years, gone on countless missions, lost crew mates, drank yourselves sick on joyous and dark days. He was thankful for the constant you had been when the whole galaxy seemed to be off kilter.

He strolled down the darkened maze of hallways with BB-8 by his side until he came up on the hanger. Sure enough, you were amidst a group of people clearing out some of the wreckage from last night’s attack. Your flightsuit was tied around your waist, leaving you in a black tank top with grease and ash in matching shades smeared across your arms and chest. You wiped the back of your arm across your forehead, further spreading the filth while you caught your breath.

“Sharp! Pack up, General wants us to go recon another base,” Poe called to you.

You turned to face him with a grin on your face, “You think my ass is dumb enough to unpack? Let me go wash up real quick, and I’ll be good to go,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder and retreating to the bunk hall.

He chucked at your response and went to make sure the double seater X-Wing was in working order.

Within no time at all, the two of you were airborne, headed to the ice planet not far outside of this system.

“I’d like to get off of that rust ball, but I didn’t know our other option was a blizzard,” you said bleakly.

“We’ll make it feel like home. Have snowball fights and all that,” Poe smiled, ever the hopeful one.

You were quiet for a beat before asking, “Do you think we’ve still got a shot?”

Hearing you doubt almost knocked the wind out of his sails. Of course, you would always have a white knuckle grip on hope in front of the rest of the team, these moments of transparency only taking place late at night or in the solitude of a cockpit.

“I can’t have my best girl giving up on me,” he said softly over his shoulder, “It’s just a little setback. We just need time to regroup and plan our final blow. We’re close, Sharp. I can feel it.”

Hearing his reassurance fanned the flames in your spirit again. You had a feeling the ending was just around the corner, you just hoped it was the ending you had all been working your bodies to the bone for.

You didn’t realize your joke about a kriffing blizzard would be the reality you faced once you descended into the white planet’s atmosphere, but you were met with blinding snow and winds so hard Poe could barely keep the ship steady. By the time you saw the tip of a tall rock formation jutting out of the ground, it was too late to warm him. The X-Wing was sliced nearly in two in an instant. Both of you were sent flying into the icy ground, hard. You tucked your arms around your knees, praying your helmet would stay in tact as you tumbled. Debris from the X-Wing was strewn all around you. Somehow, you avoided getting hit by any of the larger sheets of metal and machinery. Your mouth was full of slush and blood. Your head spinning from the hard landing as you tried to right yourself. You spit the snow from your mouth, and ran your glove along your lip to find it swollen and busted, the below freezing temperatures instantly stopping the blood flow.

Poe. You didn’t see Poe.

“Dameron! Where are you!” you shouted against the wind, your voice already hoarse from the elements. You craned your neck, desperate to find a peek of orange in the snow drift. BB-8 chirped faintly from behind you, and you turned into the howling wind, barely making out the faint outline of the small droid next to a pile of what used to be your ship. Chills overtook you despite the warm coats you had both pulled on before approaching Hoth. Each step into the storm felt like a mile, like every ounce of energy you had was being drained from your body.

“Poe!” you called as you got closer, finally making out the scene of him trapped beneath one of the wings, still strapped into his seat. BB-8 was trying desperately to lift the metal frame from him.

“Kriff,” you cursed under your breath, a new wave of strength coming upon you. “Poe! Can you hear me?” You nudged the wing up, it slid easily off of him and down the icy wall it was wedged against. Poe was slumped over, presumably unconscious, but you didn’t see any blood or major injuries. “No blood, no blood is good,” you tried to reassure yourself, as you quickly unbuckled him from his seat and awkwardly dragged him closer to you. You pulled a glove off and pushed it to his neck, searching for a pulse. His skin was still warm beneath your fingertips, and you found a steady heartbeat to the left of his adam’s apple.

“Let’s get you inside,” you whispered down to him. “BB-8, how far are we from the base?” you called over the roar of the storm.

He beeped something in binary and holo-projected a map of the planet onto the icy wall beside you. We’re right on top of it, thank the Maker, you thought to yourself. You wrapped Poe’s arms around your neck and slumped him over his back, hoping to make the short walk with no other snafus. Sweat beaded down your back from the weight of him and the extra layer of heat he was providing. Right when you thought your whole body was about to give out, BB-8 rolled ahead and started working on opening a large bay door that was cut into the side of what you could only assume to be a mountain. By the time you reached him, the door was fully open, and lights were flicking on revealing a long hall. You laid Poe down gently and ran ahead to see if there was anything useful. By a small stroke of luck, you had crashed just outside the medbay that was still heavily stocked. You filled your arms with supplies and ran back to your fallen companion.

“BB-8, can you find a way to send a distress call back to Crait?” you asked, quickly shedding your jacket and folding it into a makeshift pillow to elevate Poe’s head.

He beeped in affirmation and whizzed down the hall.

“C’mon baby, I need you to give me something,” you said quietly, pulling his helmet off, being careful to keep his neck steady. You unzipped his jacket and flight suit, lifting the hem of his shirt to check for any damage. His right side was almost one massive bruise, hinting at rib damage. His arms and legs showed no sign of any breaks or abrasions, but he was sure to be in a good bit of pain when he came to.

You prepared a bacta shot, drawing a deep breath before plunging it in between two of his ribs, hoping to get a head start on the healing. This drew a low groan from the back of his throat. You cast the needle aside and drew your hands to his face.

“C’mon baby, wake up,” you urged. His brown eyes fluttered under thick lashes, grimacing as he came to in a bright tunnel.

“Ohhh god,” he lamented as the feeling surely returned to his torso. His hands shot to his side.

“Thank the Maker you’re okay,” you breathed, wrapping yourself around him.

“Sharp,” he coughed, “Ribs.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you pulled yourself away and gave him a hand up into a sitting positioned. He grimaced and huffed out hard as he propped himself uncomfortably against the wall next to you.

“What happened?” he asked, squinting as he was still adjusting to the light.

“We hit a rock,” you said point blank, as you checked his pupils for any sign of a concussion. He let your gentle hands rock his jaw back and forth as you looked into each eye. You ran your hands through his hair checking for any bumps.

A soft laugh left his lips as he leaned into the touch.

“What, did that hurt?” you asked, drawing your hands back.

“You called me baby,” he smiled dopily, causing you to roll your eyes.

“You remember that but not the mountain you practically drove us into?”

“You called me baby,” he said in a sing song voice, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

You gritted your teeth, “Next time I’ll let BB-8 drag your ass through the snow.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

“Shut up, Dameron,” you shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Ouch, wounded baby,” he feigned distress.

“Oh, I’ll wound you, alright.”

[akutasoda]

'blizzard' - st. pavlov foundation’s winter celebration!

✩↛my entry towards @st-pavlov-foundation 'advent event'!

✩↛synopis - lilya never minded snow, yet she can't help complain when it gets in the way

✩↛warnings - gn!reader, fluff, wc - 528

lilya actually didn't mind snow. she grew up in russia afterall. she always enjoyed playing in the snow as a child and even when she began flying planes it never bothered her. during her early days as a pilot she always liked to push her luck and fly during snowfall regardless of what others thoughts as she thought it was fun.

she thought it was a great challenge. but then she actually started caring on the condition of her planes and realised it wasn't that good for them and stopped. not entirely however. ever so often of she was bored enough she would sneak into the cockpit and go for a fly.

and while the snow never caused issues, it was blizzards that really annoyed her. blizzards meant she couldn't fly for atleast a couple of days depending on how severe. especially during the winter, she hated those the most.

she was pacing up and down by the window to the door, dressed and ready to head outside - not as if she could however. you simply observed for a bit from the living room before turning your attention elsewhere. this was now the second day of a particularly harsh blizzard that effectively managed to snow you both in.

the snow was higher than the door outside and thus making it near impossible to leave. you didn't really mind as it was meant to clear in a maximum of three days but you knew lilya thought much different. she had been itching to finally go for a fly especially because she promised to show you a spot she found.

she stilled for a moment before commenting 'are you sure i can't find another way out?'

you simply hummed in response, attention elsewhere. she would have to calm eventually right?

'if you keep focusing on the snow it'll only get worse' you tired convincing her. and without your attention wavering she threw herself onto the spot next to you.

'aren't you bored of staying inside all this time?' she inquired as she starred at the ceiling.

another hum from your end made her huff. you knew she hated blizzards but there really wasn't much to do. so you simply took her hat and placed it to your side before opening your arms in attempt to coax her into your embrace.

she took the initiative and positioned herself to stare out the windows - although the snow covered more than half as the wind battered the rest. you brushed a few strands out her face before commenting 'if you settle and let the blizzard pass, i promise you can take me wherever for a flight'.

while she nearly did anyway, she seemed to perk at this and very happily obliged seeing as she had also caught wind of weather reports. after a short while of comfortable silence you finally commented with a smile to try and distract her 'i still don't understand how you wear practically the same outfit for flying regardless of the weather, especially winter'.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Missing Sock

Summary: Azula and Sokka take a trip to Norway. Sokka does not like planes.

He first sees Tromso as a twinkling of golden dots amid a sprawling, craggy snow-capped expanse. A sea of black rocks with frosty-sugary caps. The rest is hard to make out between the semi-darkness of near nightfall and a good wintery haze of snowflakes. He watches them rush over the plane’s blinking wing. He leans back in his seat and holds his breath. 

Azula reaches for his hand. “You doing okay?”

“I hate this part.” He admits. “My ears do this popping thing…”

“Everyone’s ears do that.” She fishes around her carry on bag and offers him a stick of cinnamon gum. He hates cinnamon but the popping it twice as unpleasant so he hastily unwraps it and pops the gum into his mouth. 

“I hate flying. I really hate flying.” He winces. “I hate landing the most because sometimes it does this bumpy thing, especially when the weather is like this. But landing is the only way to stop flying…are you seeing the issue?”

Azula chuckles. “Yes, I think that I understand the problem.” 

He squeezes her hand as the pilot welcomes them to Tromso and announces their descent with a reminder to remain seated with their seatbelts fastened. As though Sokka had even unfasted his to begin with. 

“It’ll be over before you know it.” Azula promises. But he knows that she knows as well as he does that he is going to be petrified and sinking deeper and deeper into that plane seat until its wheels touch the icy ground. 

Oh geez! What if the runway is icy? What if they forgot to salt it and it is too slick for a good landing? Do they even salt runways? He yelps as the plane hits its first patch of turbulence. To her credit Azula doesn’t sigh or roll her eyes. He decides that she is a true gift from the universe when she allows him to practically crush her hand.

.oOo.

“Well that wasn’t so bad.” He declares. 

“Right.” Danger behind them, she resumes her eye rolling. “Please don’t tell me that you get carsick too because we still have about a two hour bus trip to Lyngenfjord.”

“Buses, trains, cars, those are fine. I can deal with those.” He promises. And he keeps to his word. In fact he seems to rather enjoy watching the frosty landscape roll by. And she is rather fond of watching the snowfall in the headlights. 

She yawns and leans herself on Sokka’s shoulder. The chatter around her combined with tinkling folk tunes playing over the speakers and the rocking of the bus is making her sleepy. She nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck and lets him stroke her hair.

When she opens her eyes again it is to a wall of mountains that fill the skyline.

The bus comes to a stop. While she waits for the aisle to clear she yawns again and gives her arms a good stretch.

And when her feet meet the snow she gives her legs a few pumps. “I really do hate sitting all day.” She remarks. Especially since it is now an hour into nighttime. The wind gives her cheeks a few good kisses and she has burrows herself deeply into her coat. 

Sokka steps off of the bus and takes a candy cane out of his pocket and his eyes light up. “I forgot that this was in there!” He looks at it and shrugs. 

“Please tell me that you got that last week or something and not last year.” Azula grumbles. 

Sokka hums, “it very well could have been from last year.”

“You sicken me.” 

He slings an arm over her shoulder. “And you’re going to spend a whole week with me in a small glass igloo.” He fixes her with a lopsided girn. “Just you, me, and the night sky. And also a bunch of people we just road the bus with but they won’t be in our igloo…”

“I sure hope not.” Azula stuffs her hands into her pockets. 

Sokka checks his watch. “It looks like we’re just on time for dinner. I’ve been meaning to try that delicious, delicious reindeer meat.” 

“What would Aang say about that? I’m going to tell him that you…”

“Don’t do that! He’s a sensitive guy. What happens in Norway stays in Norway.”

“Is that how we’re approaching this trip? It’s going to be one big secret?”

“I think that it would be funny if every time Zuko asked how it went we both just said something like, ‘oh…you know…’ and then just not elaborate. Make it sound more exciting than it really was. And if he really pushes for details we can talk about how I was abducted by a troll and taken to the mountain said and you had to steal a longship and come rescue me.” 

“Let’s just get dinner.” She sighs. 

“You’re right, sled-dogs would be more believable than a longship.” 

“That’s the part of the story that would be unbelievable?” She shakes her head and stuffs her hands back into her pockets. She follows Sokka down the snowy path, listening to the sifting of snow beneath their feet. Watching her breaths puff towards a starry night sky. 

Sokka slips his arm through hers.

.oOo.

He thinks that Azula is absolutely precious when she is asleep. Her face is so serene, so relaxed. She isn’t exactly asleep yet, she is still stirring, trying to keep herself awake. He keeps telling her that they have all week to see the northern lights and that he will wake her up if he spots them. 

She begins to untangle herself from abundant layers of the most fluffy blankets that he has ever seen. Now and then she treats him to her softer side. The softer side that enjoys wearing oversized sweaters-–usually his. The softer side that allows for moments where her feet hang over the side of the bed; during her sleep, one of her socks had come off. She stares at her feet with a soft pout, resigning herself to rummaging through the blankets to find the missing one. 

He doesn’t wait for her to find it before scoping she and the remaining blanket that she has left wrapped around her shoulders into his arms. She gives him a small protesting shout. “I haven’t found my other sock yet.” 

“Why do you need a sock when you have a Sokka?”

She groans. “I swear, I will throw you out of this igloo and let you freeze to death.” 

He snickers. “Then who’s going to make you some hot chocolate to go with your view of the northern lights.” He sets her down on the sofa and gestures to the glass ceiling. He turns his back on her. “Trick question!” He answers before she can and turns around to reveal two steaming mugs. “I already made them.” 

It is so stupid. Even he knows that. And while it is indeed stupid, it is stupidly touching. He can see that smile on her face. The one that she makes when she is trying not to laugh. She takes the cup in her hands. 

He loves that particular smile very much. She doesn’t wear it often, usually saving it for when they are alone together. 

“You want to go outside and have a closer look?”

“I’m going to need my sock for that.” 

He points to the floor at the foot of the bed.

.oOo.

This isn’t the first time that she has seen the northern lights with him. But they look different—each location providing its own special atmosphere and magic. Rovaniemi had been more enchanting and childlike, like a fairy tale. The lights over the Blue Lagoon in Iceland had a very contrasting maturity to them. In part it felt like they were a part of the Lagoon’s package deal. They were nice to see with glasses of wine and a hydrating facial mask. Lyngenfjord is a nice in between;  majestic and powerful. Caught between a visual lullabye and a type of luminous meditation. They wrap themselves around the mountain tops adding sprays of green and teal to the sharp white of snow. 

Lyngenfjord has a rolling sheet of water and she can see the glowing ribbon reflected in it. It is like seeing two displays at once. 

She supposes that she should consider herself lucky that the lights only show themselves briefly, she could get frostbite while transfixed under their spell. Gloves and a steaming cup of hot chocolate won’t spare her nose from the harshness of the cold. 

“You just don’t get tired of them, do you?” 

She shakes her head. She would like to see them everywhere. To pick and choose which displays were her favorites. She sits herself in Sokka’s lap and hands him her phone. So far they have three pictures for their scrapbook—a hobby that has been treating her well. She can refer back to it when she needs a reminder that things aren’t so bad. That most of the time she is a happy person. She slips her phone back into her pocket and tilts her face up for one last glimpse at the lights as they fade back into the stars. 

Sokka takes the opportunity to press a kiss to her lips. “Want me to tuck you back in?” 

She nods. “Yes please.”

Her dreams are pleasant that night. 

[vvyvernicus]

Beginning of my Winter King x OC fic. Unsure if I'll commit to finishing it to full, but I'll leave it here in case anyone was curious.

Chapter 1: The Winter Star

When thinking of the coldest month of the year, December often comes to mind. All the winter decorations and holiday traditions are promoted most during this time of year after all. But in reality, the months that follow can have much harsher climates. Just like the weather that blankets Ohio in January.

The first snowfalls are beautiful and awe-inducing… for the first couple of days. Then people get sick of all the ice. It's cold, makes roads dangerous for travel and is just a pain to remove when more will just take its place a few hours later. Pure white snowflakes that first fell to the ground have now become coated with dirt and grime. And people will be wishing for spring to take over.

Not to mention when they block the view of the sky. Planes have to navigate through them carefully whenever a storm happens. And the people assisting the pilots from ground level have it even more rough. However these stresses really only apply to people like Yenna Lynn who are air traffic controllers.

With the weather being frequently abysmal, it made their jobs just that much harder. Knowing that lives could be potentially lost only added to the tension. So just what was there to be done about that stress? 

* * * * *

“Damn blizzards…”

The brunette scowled as she pulled her winter coat tighter across her body. Not only did these snow storms make directing the airplanes substantially more difficult, but they had prevented her from leaving her work premises. There had only been light snow that morning but no forecast predicting that the weather would turn into this. Then again, it was the snowiest time of the year. 

Yenna stared out the glass door which was getting battered by icy clumps from the other side. If it hadn't formed two feet of snow at the base, she might have been brave enough to traverse through it and get to her car. Normally there was equipment used to remove the snow buildup, but only during daylight hours. Unfortunately she was working a night shift. So for three more hours she was to be confined to her work environment.

“Ms. Lynnly, I see you've been taking in the scenery.”

She did not turn her gaze from the window as she knew who it was. One of her co-workers, one that she may or may not have indulged in a few risky acts with to fulfill a temporary way to relieve stress. Despite this, they were definitely not friends. At least not from her perspective.

“What do you want, Jeremy?” she groaned as she tore her focus away from her view of the world outside.

He stood taller than her, but considering she was 5'3, most men she came across did. Though not by too much, only by a couple of inches. It made it easy to make eye contact with him and look into his blue eyes that were eerily similar to hers. Thinking about it made her reminisce of back when she first got the job and people confusing them for siblings for that fact alone.

“You were looking a bit more anxious than usual so I thought I'd pop by to check on you. I'd offer you some of my ‘special candy’, but I know you don't operate that way,” he chuckled as she shot him an unimpressed glare.

While it was true that their job positions could be quite stressful at times, not once had she accepted one of his illicit methods of relaxation. Not only was it illegal, but she was pretty sure if her boss found out she would be fired. Unless he and the other staff were stealthily slipping them as well. Honestly it wouldn't surprise her if they had official doctor's prescriptions for stress relieving drugs. 

“We are literally snowed in. Of course I'm stressed out,” Yenna huffed before pulling her coat tighter. Even if they were inside, it still felt blisteringly cold to her. A grin flickered across Jeremy's face as he got a little closer to her.

“You know, we could always… have a little de-stressing in the bathroom. Not like we're on the clock so we have plenty of time to—”

“On second thought I do want some candy. Hand some over, will you?” she said as she gestured for him to slide some into her coat pocket. His eyes widened and he seemed to be in genuine surprise that she actually wanted to take them this time. “Just give me the damn smarties and I'll make sure I de-stress you thoroughly later,” she smiled at him as her fingers began to trail across his white dress shirt.

After that interaction, she found herself in possession of the alleged ecstasy candies. Though she grimaced at the thought of spending another time with him privately. She didn't exactly want the benefits he provided for her anymore. Not that she ever craved them the first time. But now was not the time for her to be thinking of the future.

With the bathroom door locked and secured, she reached into her pocket to take out the baggy. Inside were three round tablets, one red, one blue and one green. They really did bear a strong resemblance to smarties. Though she doubted they tasted the same. She popped the blue one first and was immediately hit with a bitter taste as she swallowed it.

Definitely not candy for kids. It went down her throat easily but then she pondered on if she was supposed to chew it up first. Suddenly panic set in as she worried that in the chance she took it wrong and that something bad could happen. Luckily Google came to the rescue and assured her swallowing it whole was the way to go.

“Thirty minutes to an hour, hm. I haven't eaten anything since lunch so it's got to be closer to thirty right? This waiting sucks,” she then groaned as her body slumped to the cool floor.

This is what her life had come to. Taking narcotics in hopes that life would suck just a little less. If only her parents could see her now. Though she never did care to meet them as they ditched her as a baby. With no familial ties, she was able to focus more on landing a good job for herself. However a six figure salary was starting to seem pointless if she was stressed all the time and had barely any time to do things outside of work.

Sighing, she leaned back against the wall as comfortably as she could. It was quite cold in the bathroom. Even with her hands inside her pockets she felt cold. Maybe the tablet also made one more sensitive to temperatures. No, it had to be because of all the cold outside building up. 

Her mind began to feel hazy and weak. The smartie was taking effect and now she could finally be at peace. She leaned down so that her head was flush with the hard floor. For some reason it felt like a cushion of softened snow. The faint sound of the winds howling away outside began to lull her into slumber.

* * * * *

Eventually she had to get up. There was a good chance that people would wonder where she was after being gone for so long. Plus it wasn't a very comfortable position. After all, she didn't want to keep touching the cold masses of snow beneath her. 

What a silly comparison for her brain to use to describe the bathroom floor. Sure it was cold, but it wasn't ice. Or wet. At least not last since she checked.

Her body suddenly jolted upwards as her eyes blinked themselves clear. As she gazed at her surroundings, one thing was clear. This was not the bathroom. Nor did it look close to the airport. She appeared to be in the middle of a forest that was covered thick with snow. This… had to be a prank, right?

“What the hell?” she spoke to herself softly as she stood to her feet. “Did someone seriously drag me out in the middle of the woods as some kind of… prank?”

She looked around for signs of people or perhaps cameras filming. It was a weird conclusion to jump to, but she wouldn't be surprised if that happened to be the case. She probably blacked out after taking the drug and a rival co-worker saw perfect opportunity to take the chance. Though this would have to be the most extreme prank someone had caused her to go through. Certainly a step up from putting salt in her coffee. 

Then a more likely reason popped into her head. Of course. This was a hallucination. Had to be, no doubt about it. Though was that a even a side effect of molly? She was no drug expert by any means.

“At least I didn't hallucinate my clothes being wet in this lovely weather,” she muttered as her hands started to dust off the snow clumps that had been forming on her clothes.

Touching the ice made her shiver more. Okay, maybe not a hallucination. But she was still holding onto the possibility. It would not be fun to have been stranded in an unknown location like this.

Oh of course! No need to panic since her phone was in pocket's reach. All she had to do was turn it on. Great, still has plenty of charge. Now to Google maps—

“Shit, no service,” she growled as she turned it back off and shoved it back into her pocket with unnecessary force.

Too far out into the wilderness that her phone wasn't able to get a signal. So much for that expensive data plan. As she looked around as her brain argued with itself on which direction to walk towards, she felt a certain pain in her chest.

Every time her heart beat, it felt like someone was sticking a needle right through it. One needle soon became several needles. And soon her hand found itself clutching at her chest. Though it did nothing to stop the pain.

She fell to her knees and doubled over, snow coating her pants once again. Now was no time to be panicking and yet…

It must have been a side effect of the pill she took. Anxiety welled up in her chest and was violently attacking her heart and lungs. She couldn't breathe. And it was too cold. Much too cold to think properly.

“Hey, over there!”

Her head perked up at the sound of the voice. It sounded like it could belong to a young, teenage girls. Even though she was trembling an in pain, she still did her best to pull her body somewhat upright. As she did, she saw too figures gliding towards her over the snowy ground. But as they got closer, she couldn't help but recoil backwards.

“A human woman?!” one of them blurted out in surprise as the pair stood only a few feet away from her.

As she stared at them in bewilderment, their pale blue eyes bore a similar expression. The two were completely identical in appearance. Each wore a blue helmet with a lightning bolt shape coming off the top, blue skirts and cyan blue hair that nearly came down to their waists. Their skin was also completely white and they had long, pointy noses. They also had swords which made Yenna even more wary of them.

“It can't be a human, they all got wiped out during the war remember? Our king told us that so it must be true,” the other said as she looked at Yenna with skepticism.

“Well, maybe not every human did. There had to be at least a few left that he didn't know about. Our king is great and smart, but I bet he doesn't know absolutely everything,” the first to speak replied as she lowered herself to Yenna's level. Yenna's eyes never wandered too far from their hands and weapons.

“Excuse me, but where exactly am I?” she spoke up as she tried her best to avoid showing weakness to these strange creatures. She had no clue what was going on, but for now she had to be cautious if she wanted to survive whatever this was. For all she knew, she could have been hallucinating and stranded in the snowy wilderness. “And dare I ask what you two are?”

Both of their eyes blinked at Yenna before they turned to face each other and then back to her.

“We are…” The two of them began to twirl before holding onto each other's hands. “The Winter Kingdom's finest Ice Scouts!”

The confusion on Yenna's face became more apparent as she watched them strike a pose. What in the world was she supposed to make of this? Winter Kingdom? Ice Scouts? Her reality seemed to be getting more bizarre by the second.

Before she could ask them more questions, pain filled her body once more. Her body felt like it was freezing from the inside out. She normally had a good tolerance to cold weather, so this was a threatening feeling. That stupid drug… she never should've taken it.

“Damnit… I can't feel—”

Her body collapsed onto the ground once again as her legs gave out beneath her. As she fell, the two Ice Scouts rushed to her side immediately. She couldn't quite hear what they were saying as everything became muffled. However she retained some consciousness and did not drift off so easily.

“Quick, Christina! We've got to give her the cloak!” one of them said while looking at her twin companion.

“Really? Her? But what if she ends up being a problem for the Winter Kingdom?”

“We'll figure that out later! But for now let's just wrap her up in it. Our king will know what to do when we bring her to him,” she replied confidently, having full trust in how he would handle the situation.

Yenna began to stir as she felt the coldness in her bones alleviate and her senses returning. Her eyes flickered back open and she immediately grabbed her arms, feeling new clothing on top of her work attire. It was soft, sleek and warm. A cloak that was now covering a good portion of her head and protecting it from the snowfall.

She did not waste time to question why this cloak felt like she was in the perfect climate and returned her gaze to the beings responsible for putting it on her. They seemed happy that she had recovered, but there was the slightest bit of wariness in their eyes.

“You said you have a king, correct? Could you bring me to him?” she asked them as they bobbed their heads in agreement.

“Of course, that was the plan!” They both spoke in unity as they took their places on each side of her. “Let us escort you safely. Then it'll be up to our king to decide what needs to be done.”

Yenna was not in any position to be arguing with them, so she went along with it. If there really was a king here and this wasn't a hallucination, it wasn't a bad idea to get close to someone who held power in this world. But honestly if she truly had the chance… No, terrible idea to try escaping from armed creatures she knew nothing about.

(Total word count: 2,578) If you enjoyed what you read, it helps motivation a lot if you like, comment on or reblog this post!

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

(っ◔◡◔)っ🚀🎄 ꌗꉣꍏꉓꍟ ꌗꀤꌗ꓄ꍟꋪꌗ ꌗꍟꉓꋪꍟ꓄ ꌗꍏꈤ꓄ꍏ 🎄🚀

For my dearest Space Sisters Secret Santa Exchange Giftee, @doctorliamsr

Please enjoy me trying to squeeze in as many of your prompt requests as I can in the form of a poem and an edit:

What a scoundrel little Ezra is, ready to mollywop any and every snowball fight participant inside the TARDIS. He'll deal with the Doctor's reprimand later and sweet talk his way out of it, that charming little menace! Ever the curious pilot, dear little Frankie is so often mesmerized and intrigued by the workings of the TARDIS. He watches intently every time the Doctor switches a flip, turns a knob, or shouts some nonsense that somehow makes the spacecraft react in some unexpected way. Frankie doesn't have much time left to ponder what exactly set off the TARDIS to create so much snowfall (and so quickly) as Ezra's tightly packed snowball hurdles towards his trusty Standard Heating Oil cap. But why not aim for Joel instead, distracted as he is by the novel tune of "Dick in a Box" from SNL playing from the radio? Ezra hadn't made it this far in life by not choosing his fights wisely. So he leaves Joel to his inner wonderings. When had anyone even turned that on? Who picked this song? Who the hell had even written it? Frankie's surprised yelp will soon get his attention back to the task at hand, and unfortunately for Ezra, Joel embodies the ancient proverb: knuck if ya buck.

Who will win the snowball fight? Well, that's for you to decide. Leave a comment below with who would win the snowball fight. Bonus points for saying how they won it.

Merry Christmas, ♥Puddles♥

[stellanslashgeode]

Happy Barriss Day! Here is a sneak peek at the latest chapter of Way of the Mynock that could well serve as a stand-alone for this event. Enjoy.

  The city was dead. The city was a bombed-out ruin. 

  The Empire detonated a low-yield fission bomb here at the start of the regime. This was where Mirial’s ex-CIS militia had gathered and plotted against them. It used to be one of the most holy cities on the planet. Low latitude it was close to the Southern Ice Cap, close to the realm of The Silent One. The better to speak with him, being so close. A fine place to raise chantries to his name.

  None of which remained undamaged.

  A grey snow fell softly into the alleyway. There was slush in every corner. And bodies. Some of them fresh, some just bones.

  A trio of TIE-bombers cut eddied through the snowfall as they flew overhead releasing a fresh payload of bombs to pulverize the ruins into yet smaller pieces. A rocket-propelled grenade steaked upwards to strike one of them. It bellowed flames and smoke and spiraled to the ground but the other two did not break formation. They knew to be more disciplined then to go off expressing concern over the welfare of their fellow pilots. It thudded into the rubble with little fanfare.

  Detonating that fusion bomb here was an affront to their culture of the highest degree. The Empire wiped out whole families in an instant, and who would be left to pray their deeds to The Silent One then? They would not live forever beyond their deaths.

  Barriss felt lightheaded being in this battlefield. That and she still hadn’t become accustomed to the feel of her shorter new haircut. It had grown out a bit since her morning period began, however.

  The Rebel in front of her went down on one knee and held up a fist with their arm at a square angle. Barriss hugged the wall and went as low as she could.

  A squid-like Arakyd Industries Viper probe droid passed them hovering over the parallel street, using its passive scanners. The Imperials had tied a number of charred skulls to the droid’s arms in a macabre show of offense to the Mirialans. They knocked together like a wind chime as it passed them.

  A few blocks away they had to pause again. A lone Imperial Army grunt was stumbling around studying his holo map and trying to get oriented.

  “Sergeant, do you need this one for interrogation?”

  “No, ma’am.” was their response.

  Barriss stood and straightened. She was wearing a lot of cumbersome clothing, a heavy coat and personal protective equipment to protect herself against radiation. She strode towards the trooper, who dropped his map and took a few shots at her. She batted them away with Luminara’s saber and shot him in the chest dead with one of her pistols with her left hand.

  “Let’s go.”

  The Rebels had utilized the underground shelters built in haste during the war. The locals had been loath to lose so many of their religious artifacts to a lone bomb. So they’d constructed a labaranthine complex utilizing existing maintenance and utilities structures. They cleared Barriss so she could pass security unchallenged. They were old battle droids, though few retained their original parts. Components of other droid models infected them and spread like disease. A few muttered their ‘Rodger, Rodger’s in greetings as she passed them. That gave her a chill sensation of deja vu. The young man seated at the antipersonnel turret couldn’t be older than Barriss was when she went off to Geonosis for her first battle. He waved to her and called out her name.

  Then they were in the tunnels. Both walls were covered with religious idols and paintings, religious and secular. Some of them were newer, drawn on whatever sheet of flimsi could be scrounged. Their metals were tarnished but their pigments were protected. Some stretches were lit only by candlelight. There was art everywhere in the city. Every alleyway was covered in graffiti, both anti-Imperial and pro.

  “Does a priest attend to these frequently?”

  “Oh yes, we have a few that maintain what ceremonies they can and salvage as many relics.” the Sergeant replied. “In fact, one Brother wanted to speak with you, privately, as soon as possible.”

  Barriss raised her brows. Her curiosity was piqued, if only to moderate the grim reality of warfare all around her. “Really? Let us endeavor to arrive as soon as possible.”

  She passed into a hall of portraiture. Historical figures as well as the wealthy and their relatives. She saw paintings of Vernestra Rowe, of Cyslin Myr, Luminara Unduli, and even one of her. A propaganda poster against the Republic.

  And then she was in the main living spaces for the vertically exiled. There were Mirialans of all ages and shades of purple or green. One of them, chartreuse like her, wore the white robes of a priest of The Silent One. His long curly hair was covered at least at the scalp with a telltale headcovering. He raised his palms upwards and nodded to her. “Miss Offee, I am pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Brother. Can you wait until my business is done?” She was sad to postpone him. He seemed like a very pleasant young man whom she would like to speak with at leisure, if the circumstances were different. Better.

  “Yes, it can wait. But what you brought cannot. A very important man needs to debrief you.”

  “Yes?”

  An older man also approached her. “Is it here? Were you able to smuggle them in?”

  “Yes. You must be the camp chef.”

  “Indeed! I’ll get them split up and distributed to as many kitchens as we can reach.”

  They didn’t want help ousting the Empire. They had enough troops to at least keep them at bay. They hadn’t asked for weapons. Their old CIS hardware had long since worn out, or perhaps savored and polished but never used. They took whatever weapons they could lift from the Empire. They didn’t even want food. They had enough vat-grown protein and hydroponically fruits, vegetables, and grains to last the tiny population. What they needed was medical supplies. 

  And what they wanted was spices. They wanted their food to taste Mirialan again. The chef held the first two liberated tins aloft triumphantly and there was a cheer from all around them as if a battle had just been won.

  After receiving the personal thanks of a number of both citizens and soldiers she convinced her handlers to lead her to Agent Adan’s office. The Balosar was in his workshop, which is what he called the clinic he interrogated prisoners in. He was just taking off his surgical gloves.

  Barriss offered him a smile, a friendly greeting she could not extend to his IGO-series interrogation droid. Caern Adan smiled broadly and his antennae came up to attention, the tips of which poked through his long afro hairstyle.

  “Fulcrum, welcome to the Mirialan Resistance.”

  “Agent,” she embraced him. Then sat attentively at a stool. “How are things?”

  He slumped into an office chair and unbuttoned the sleeve on his left arm. “We are surviving. It’s getting too cost-prohibitive and logistically bothersome to wipe us out for good.” He’d shed his doctor’s coat and had his shirt up to his bicep. Then he grabbed a latex tube off a tray of interrogation implements. He tied off his arm and quickly found a hypodermic to shoot something into a vein.

  “Are you alright, Caern?”

  “Oh, it’s just a little cocktail I brewed up. A dilution of my truth serum. It helps me relax and seems to help with debriefings.”

  “You need Alliance help. That would bless your cause with a sense of permanence. Who’s in charge here?”

  Adan laughed at her. 

  “Excuse me?”

  “Whenever someone asked, ‘Who’s in charge around here?’ likely they are a high-ranking individual and they are the only one’s left in charge. It’s like cursing yourself. We’re a leaderless resistance. We haven’t had central command in years.”

  “Do you compartmentalize everything?”

  “No, share and share alike. We just rebel as we can where we can. I share all the intelligence I can pull from these Imps. But those not of use to Mirial operations I siphon off into a silo and give to you.”

  “And I am all the more grateful to you, Agent.”

  He handed the drive over, and they spoke for a long while summarizing which data points she needed to know as soon as possible. 

  She also had personal curiosities to sate, even if it was concerning personal information. “Caern, why do you fight with us? Why are you here on Mirial?”

  “Is there a stereotype about Boasolar that we are specialist? He rubbed his injection site. “In another life I was an economics reporter.”

  “A lot makes sense, now.” She often wondered if her reporter friend Ben Dhur who she met on Drognar would make a good spy. Or interrogator.

  “I wrote a few too many exposes on the financial malfeasance of the Banking Clan. They put me in Jail, here on Mirial. I’ve become attached to the place, even as a freed criminal.”

  “I see. Thank you, Agent Adan.”

  After a bit more smalltalk she left his office to find the young Acolyte again.

  “Hey.” He smiled broadly at her. His expression was overwhelming to Barriss’s ex-Jedi formality. “I am so glad to meet you.”

  “I’m Barriss, as you know.” She offered her hand.

  He shook it with genuine warmth and vigor. “I’m Brother Offee.” He seemed delighted by her emotional response. “Ayaz Offee.”

  “Brother Offee.” She was whispering now. “Are we? Of the same clan?”

  “We are cousins! Your mother is my aunt. I am a cousin to the great, famous Adept Barriss Offee. To you.”

  She sputtered. Her brain was on an error screen. She didn’t know what to do but embrace him. “What can you tell me about your aunt? Does my mother have other children? Do I have an actual brother Offee?”

  “You do. After she was deported back to her home village, she married a shepherd and had seven children. A few of them died.” He swallowed. “But you have sisters and a brother.”

 “Ohhh!” She sighted with many positive emotions. It was so alien to her experience so many at once she didn’t know how to tell them apart. “And my father?”

  “We don’t know who he was. Some guy who saw her walking home one afternoon. But she was happy with her husband.”

  “Was? Do I not have a father-in-law?”

  “He was drafted in the planetary militia during the war. Your mother was devastated to lose him, but she sought out what Jedi casualties she could find on CIS occupied Mirial. She was so proud of you when you refused to fight us any longer.”

  “She wasn’t ashamed of my bombing?”

  Ayaz shook his head. “Barriss, in many parts of your home you are a folk hero. We didn’t get to see much footage of the Jedi, except for when they died in battle. Your confession we all heard. In Confederate households you embody national bravery under pressure. Your mother is sad she has no relationship with you, but she is proud of you.”

  “Oh,” She smiled. She put a hand to her fluttering heart. “I am so glad to hear that. I’m finding it difficult to express how I feel.” Just earlier that hour she had no family beyond Ahsoka. And they couldn’t be together as she wished. Now she has an extended family. A whole clan. All of them for her to meet for the first time.

  “It’s alright, Barriss.” He put a hand out to squeeze her forearm for reassurance. “Gizem would like to meet you one day.”

  “Gizem,” she breathed. “That’s my mother’s name… What is she like?”

  “She is a shepherd’s wife. She has little education but has great amounts of personal conviction. She has a principled stance on everything and everyone. But will only disclose her opinions if asked or unless it is an emergency. Then she will expound loudly and at length. And she has a very peculiar notion of what constitutes an emergency.”

  Barriss laughed at that. “I would love to get to know her. And you, as well. Could you show me your chantry?”

  “I would treasure such an opportunity! Follow me.”

  Ayaz would be in an adobe ground chantry if he could, one of the historical temples rebuilt. Barriss had never seen a chantry that was a series of interconnected chambers underground, chambers of varying size and utilized for various purposes. One room was the space for Recitation Ritual. There was a droid there. Its body was made from a B2. Its head is that of a commando droid. It has four arms from B1 combat chassises. There was a steel-ribbed nylon bag next to it. Scholars stopped by at regular intervals to drop new data pads onto the load, the corner of the bag was torn and there were a few on the floor. The droid read prayers to The Silent One and stories of those deceased for the god to hear and preserve for all time.

  “You don’t have an Adept for this task?”

  “I speak the stories of those who just died in the community. The chantry’s scholar staff spends their days compiling obituaries for those who died in the bombings with no one else to speak for them. It took so much of my time I had the tech shop make me a mechanical Adept.”

  “That is good of you, Brother Offee. I am sure he is pleased by your service. And the droid’s.”

  Then he showed her the congregation hall, the pulpit and the rest of the expansive space. The walls were all covered in religious statues. They were all broken. There were small droids swarming all over them, replacing missing stone with duracrete recreations. But at many places the data was corrupted, their forms stuttered like holo interference. Others surely were not built to look like that. They were a droid intelligence’s idea of how their original forms. It was like being in a tomb. Chantries dedicated to The Silent One were supposed to have that flavor, but not quite like this.

  “Barriss… I was wondering. Would you like to lead services? The kids always ask me about you.”

  “You want me to be a youth pastor?” She smiled with one-half of her lips, giving him a look.

  “Barriss, you’re a legend. It would be memorable for them.”

  She couldn’t say no to that. As he got everything prepared she sat and thought about children. She’d never really considered family before. Now she had one, despite not having her own children. In another life, would she and Ahsoka have kids of their own? Would they be boys or girls? Would they be Togruta or Mirialan.

  The younglings filed in once families were contacted. Their parents washed their feet and took their place at the rear of the worship hall. Barriss sought to blink back her tears seeing all of them. Too many had radiation burns and other injuries of warfare and deprivation. The kids either sat still or whispered to each other. She heard her name often.

  Barriss eventually turned on her microphone. “Siblings. My family. I am so glad to be here with you. Before services I want to swear something to you.” She stood, and took Luminara’s lightsaber from its holster at the small of her back. She held it aloft. She activated the blade.

  “I swear by Jedi Master Luminara’s blade, my own master, that I shall fight for Mirial as long as I live. And my ghost will commit to the fight afterwards. Mirial shall one day be free of the Empire. I swear to you, and to your children yet to be, that I shall fight for him. I swear to Luminara, and I swear to the goddesses. And I swear to you.”

  “And so you shall. Blessed be!” the others chanted in unison. Including the younglings old enough to speak. She looked over them all, one by one. 

  This was the future of the planet. This was the future of her culture.

  “Now I shall start our worship with a parable.” She knelt, put her hands on her thighs, and recalled the one Leia treasured as a bedtime story. “In the time before time began the gods and goddesses wore Mirialan forms walking and talking just like you and I. It was decided that He of the Strong Foundations and She of the Flowing Waters should be wed for the good of future generations…”

@barrissday

[pinturas-sgm-aviacion]

1944 11 02 Into the Cloak of Darkness - Nicolas Trudgian

A Heinkel 219 and a Messerschmitt 110 of NJG-1 climbing out from their base a Munster Hansdorf, as they set out on a deadly mission. Ten aircraft took off to intercept a major raid on Dusseldorf, the night witnessing a fierce battle high above the darkened city. NJG-1 crews assisted with the downing of 19 RAF bombers, one Luftwaffe pilot being credited with no fewer than 6 victories that night. Below them the spectacular Ruhr Valley is vibrant in its mantle of winter's first snowfall on the night of November 2, 1944.

[schizosupport]

I have a couple asks in drafts, I've just been too busy to put in the time to finish my answers. I've been on a roadtrip through half of Europe, to visit my partner's parents etc in Hungary with our other partner and our dog.

The roadtrip part was fun (on the way back we drove Hungary - Slovakia - Czech Republic - Poland - Germany - Denmark), but the visit was hard due to the personal affairs of my partner.

As you can see, my dog is a very confident driver ;)

We tried to drive to the Adršpach-Teplice Rocks in the Czech Republic, but ended up getting hit by snowfall and being stuck sliding around on the mountainroads ^^" It was an adventure!

And really beautiful.

The place where we slept in Poland had a distinctly unreal vibe, and I felt that I perhaps shouldn't pass through this gate:

It was a good/fun unreality vibe though. I love that for the most part I'm at a place in recovery where I can entertain the notion of magic and the fae without having it become too real for me in a bad way.

I learned that my dog REALLY enjoys climbing around on cliffs, a bit too much for my peace of mind, so I may have been carrying her more than was strictly necessary...

In the end this was my favourite picture taken of me on this trip. The pilot jacket I got from my mother in law is really doing it for me!

[warmglowofsurvival]

Interview: Twenty One Pilots by Jay Campbell

Some people will remember Thursday, Jan. 12, 2012 as Athens' first snowfall of the season. Others will fondly recall the date as their first exposure to Twenty One Pilots at the Union.

The band consists of Columbus, Ohio, natives Tyler Joseph (vocals/keyboards) and Josh Dun (drums). I caught up with the duo just before their show that night.

JC: When did you first meet, and did you think you’d end up performing with each other?

Josh: I met Tyler through the band's previous drummer, about two years ago. They said they needed me to play at a show for them and that’s when it all started.

Tyler: After the show, we talked about our dreams and goals, not only within music, but in life, and we just connected. We had the same amount of passion and it just worked out perfectly.

JC: What is the story and meaning behind the band name?

Tyler: Well, it goes back to when I was in college, studying theater at Ohio State University. We were studying All My Sons by Arthur Miller, and it was one of those books that just hit you. The main character made airplane parts for the war, and he found out that his parts were faulty and would fail if used. So he had to make a decision to spend his money trying to fix them, or to use the faulty parts. He decided to use the faulty parts, and due to his decision, 21 pilots died in flight. It showed me that every decision that you make will have great outcomes or dire consequences, and it’ll be something that will forever stick with me.

JC: Some websites label you as rock, electronic, pop or rap. But it's difficult to compare you to bands or musicians in those genres. If you had to create a new genre that would describe your music, what would it be called?

Josh: Wow, that's a tough question. It’s so hard for us to put ourselves in any genre. One of our goals as musicians was to break down the walls of musical genres and combine different aspects into our own. Our manager calls us "pop-rock-piano-rap," which fits us but is a mouthful. If you can think of one and send it to us, we'll roll with it.

JC: On your song "Time to Say Goodbye," you sample "Con te Partiró" by Andrea Bocelli and then rap over it. Could you explain what you were thinking when you did this?

Tyler: Well, I’m really tied to melody. I don’t care what genre it is, if it catches my ear, then there must be something good about it. And then listening to the lyrics, I connected to his message and combined it with mine.

JC: If you had to pick a trademark song–one that that everyone recognized–what would it be?

Josh: It would have to be "Holding Onto You" or "Ode to Sleep." "Holding Onto You" could easily be recognized with its unique rap combined with an emotional-yet-catchy bridge. And "Ode to Sleep" is the closest to us with its meaning; it's probably the most connected with us that any song could be.

JC: Are you currently signed with a label?

Josh: Currently, no. But that should change in the near future.

Tyler: We're not really interested in being signed for the most money possible. We are talking to people that will give us control of the music we make. That's the most important thing we want if we're going to sign with someone.

JC: One final question: What made you want to perform here in Athens?

Josh: Our first time here was last year at one of the fests, and at that time I wasn’t the drummer. I was called by Tyler to come and fill in because the previous drummer quit. So I quit my job and drove here straight from Wisconsin. So I got here in time for the show, and after one song, the fest was shut down by the police. I wanted to come back, redeem myself and have a successful show here.

Tyler: As he said. He quit his job for a show that got shut down after one song. So we both agreed that we would come back and perform without getting shut down. But Ohio University is a cool place all around, and we had to come back!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Weather Delays Search For Lost Lighthouse Men,” Winnipeg Tribune. October 29, 1930. Page 3. ---- Plane Makes Three Unsuccessful Starts for East Shore of Lake Winnipeg --- Turned back three times by heavy snowfall which now blankets Lake Winnipeg. Flight-Lieutenant K. M. Guthrie, officer commanding Royal Canadian Air Force station at Lac du Bennet, postponed his fight this morning into the north in search of Ingolfur Thodarson, light-house keeper at Big George's Island, and Franklin Johnson, his young companion. The airman plans to hop-off on the search. Thursday. weather permitting.

Guthrie's objective In his huge Vickers Vancouver flying boat was Poplar river, on the east shore of the lake, and 200 miles north of Lac du Bennet. A theory has been advanced by Thordarson's relatives in Gimli that both he and young Frankin rowed from Big George's Island to Poplar river.

Checking Up on Theory Capt. J. Skaption, supervisor of fisheries at Selkirk requested Guthrie on Tuesday to fly to Poplar River to ascertain whether the theory of Thordarson's relatives is correct.

He will make further attempts at the flight today, a phone message from Lac du Bonnet stated. unless flying conditions become more difficult.’

If the stop at Foplar River proves unavailing, he will by into the upper reaches the lake, refueling at Berens River. The flight will total 900 miles. He will be accompanied by Pilot-Sergeant George Elliott and crew. Tug Making Headway Meanwhile the gasoline tug “The Question Mark" in charge of Wiliam and Rey Purvis, in proceeding up the lake, having left Selkirk Tuesday morning.

Its objective is to find the open boat in which Thordarson and Johnson are thought to have been buffeted, from Big George's Island to the shoals on the eastern shore of the lake.

“The Question Mark" will attempt to reach Big George's Island where the lighthouse will be closed up for the winter.

Lighthouse Keeper Lost INGOLFUR THORDARSON Lighthouse keeper at Big George's Island on Lake Winnipeg, has been missing with his companion, young Franklin Johnson of Gimli, since Oct. 17. The search is continuing by water and air for the missing men who are thought to have perished in an open beat during a terriffic storm on the lake.

[blindingspark]

By Any Other Name

The warrior of light and their companion make the most of Clan Centurio's offerings, a bit of coin and a fine sport. Rating: Mature Pairing: Zenos/WoL CW for violence and gore

Calm yourself, you'll only cause a fuss if you keep looking about suspiciously, the thought played on a loop near-endlessly while the au ra approached the aged board outside of the Forgotten Knight, pulling their cloak tighter over their shoulders as the looming shade of the structure kept them from enjoying the rarity of a clear sky that day.

They could hear the shift of metal and leather at their flank, heavy footsteps that had accompanied them on their trek and slowed to a stop as he wordlessly took in the posted marks.

The towering figure was a clear oddity among the residents of Ishgard; save for the occasional roegadyn adventurer and merchant, very few matched his physical presence within the aged city. His garb did little to clue one in to his appearance, sporting a heavy hooded cloak with glimpses of garb and armor plating which made for a rather imposing display, aided by the large scythe slung across his back bearing a blade that was as long as the mage was tall; within the hood were teasing glimpses of blond and hints of what the man's face looked like beneath, the revealing third eye upon his forehead always just out of sight.

"Any worthy prey seems to be thinning." The garlean noted casually, "We may need to find our hunt elsewhere ere long."

Auri nodded with a small sigh and reached to pluck an especially valuable mark from the board, looking over the scribbled image and last known sighting before folding the parchment and pocketing it, "Aye, that seems to be the way of it. This one will be for the coin, but afterwards we may venture to the Far East for a time and aid the hunters there." 

The duo turned and began their walk through Foundation and to the small airship landing, their mark taking them towards Falcon's Nest, and from there venturing deep into the Western Highlands. There was little small talk during their travels, though the mage did not mind- their partner seldom felt the need to fill the air with idle chatter, each thought and observation seeming purposeful when he decided to speak, even if his insights remained somewhat detached from others even after the Final Days. 

The Warrior of Light retained some hope, however, in noticing how he observed and gradually eased in looming over them when they conversed with others, a steadily nursed trust that they had forged in full after returning from the edge of existence itself. There was no doubt uncertainty among the Scions, all having had varied encounters with him- Estinien and Krile being the most vivid, yet with time and observance they had lessened their collective scowl towards the exiled prince; if there would ever come a time they would trust him as one of their own in full, Auri could not determine such a thing, yet the fact they had made this much progress already shone a far more encouraging light than anticipated.

Boarding the airship to the Highlands the mage's gaze settled on their companion, watching as he calmly wrapped one of the ships ropes around his wrist before grasping to secure his hold, the glimpse of steady blue met their own bright magenta and quietly communicated he was ready to depart. Stepping closer to grab a part of his armor Auri then looked to the pilot, waving an 'all clear' before their grip tightened as they felt the aircraft tilt upon takeoff, even while their companion remained steady as ever- a faint warmth blooming in their cheeks as his remaining hand rested upon their back to help them remain on their feet with the swaying motion of the craft.

-

It wasn't often when their differing heights became a clear advantage or lack thereof, yet the heavy snowfall of the Western Highlands reminded them of such differences on days like this; the mage yelped as the snow gave way beneath their feet, sinking down to the thigh- cursing aloud and wriggling to pull their leg free, tail thumping against the ground in newfound agitation before they looked up to see their garlean companion trudging his way over with ease. Zenos reached to grasp their cloak and unceremoniously pulled them from the snow, the exertion coupling with the chilling winds resulted in his hood blowing back to reveal the cold beginning to affect even him, if only slightly based on the tint of pink upon his nose and cheeks,

"Remain behind me, I will clear a path for our return." He stated, moving the au ra over and placing them on their feet in the path he had already carved out, feeling how they gripped his arm and stilling; his brows knit together at the gesture, half-curious if the fall had rattled their companion so- noting the way their gaze was intently fixed on the horizon, soon looking the same way and searching for what had caught their eye. 

It didn't take long to discern the silhouette of the lumbering beast they had been searching for.

"We'll have no advantage if it detects us here," Auri's voice had steadied, letting go with one hand to reach for one of their satchel pockets and procuring a worn whistle, "I can get it's attention if we take to the air, but I'll need you to take the reins."

While he would have scoffed at the idea of following another's orders so flippantly in the past, their current circumstances demanded a touch of compromise. His jaw tightened faintly, turning his attention back to the massive wandering Behemoth and hearing the musical call of the whistle carry through the air, soon answered by a shrill roar as a winged beast swooped past and landed on a nearby boulder. 

The creature itself looked like another branch of the dragon family tree, yet none from Hraesvelgr's brood could discern the creatures origin- a red and tan wyvernlike beast that was as ferocious as they were loyal to the mage that had gained their companionship.

Auri looked to the Behemoth in the distance briefly before turning their attention to their mount and approaching them, the towering garlean trailing behind shortly after. The wyvern uttered a rumbling 'purr' upon seeing her rider, sounds which amplified when they gently scritched along the scales of her jaw, 

"I know this climate isn't ideal, but I'll be certain to make your favorite dinner when we're finished, alright Saya?" Auri gently cooed, earning a snort in response and seeing the beast eye the target in the distance, her comforted purr turning to a low growl, "Aye, that's what we're after, our friend will fly you in as close as we can." 

The wyvern turned their head to look back at Zenos briefly at their word, snorting and shifting their weight so he could heft himself into the custom saddle with ease, allowing Auri to climb on after and grabbing hold of the saddle horn,

"Remember not to fight her, this is a partnership not a battle of dominance."

A grunt of acknowledgement was his only answer to them, grasping the reins and lightly flicking them to nudge her forward. With trudging steps and a great leap, Saya took off into the air and soared along the frigid winds towards their target, needing little adjustment and guidance from the garlean at the reins. 

The au ra clenched their jaw as the biting cold became all the sharper at such speed, stifling any shivers by focusing their attention on the kaiser behemoth in the quickly shrinking distance, looking to the nearby expense of land that seemed less heavy with snowfall, "I'll get their attention, fly in low enough to draw the target to that field over there!" They spoke over the winds, feeling the wyvern tilt and begin descending with another mighty roar in reply.

Swooping low once again Saya zipped past the behemoth, granting Auri enough time to conjure a molten bolt of fire and launching it at their target, soon rewarded with an echoing bellow from the hulking beast as the spell made contact with the side of its head.

The behemoth swatted viciously at the wyvern and riders, scarcely missing all three as Zenos yanked on the reins and veered her out of the way of the massive claw, immediately turning to fly towards the chosen location for their hunt. Charging footsteps echoed behind them as the enraged beast trailed after them with ease, toppling frozen terrain and sending local wildlife scurrying in its own pursuit.

Looking behind them and then ahead, Auri leaned forward and placed a hand on the wyvern's neck, "Bring us close to the ground and then fly to safety, we'll call for you once more once this beast is slain!" They assured over the deafening winds, earning a squawking roar in reply before Saya swooped away from another swiping claw, flying low to the icy ground before feeling both riders leap from the saddle, pumping her wings to ascend once more as commanded and disappearing into the clouds.

The mage and reaper had little time to regain their footing, both drawing their weapons and watching the looming shadow become solid when the behemoth drew close, the burned side of their face trailing smoke behind them while fury raged in their eyes,

"A ferocious display, let us hope they prove equally powerful when put to proof." Zenos said with an expected placidity, earning a sidelong look from Auri for only a moment until they began to murmur an incantation, swirling storm clouds forming overhead and bringing a crackling bolt of lightning down upon the beast.

The garlean charged forward, blade drawn, and sent forth a sharpened slash of void energy, watching it collide with the thick hide and sending a gush of deep crimson spilling out onto the ice- a shrill cry left the beast, swiping at him only to be countered with another slash and paying no mind to the mage that had summoned forth an amplifying symbol beneath their feet, sending forth more volleys of viscous flame which collided against the thickened hide and filled the bitterly cold air with the scent of smoke and burning flesh. This time the behemoth failed as it attempted to remove the lingering blaze, its massive body spinning and catching the reaper with its tail in the process.

Zenos grappled the tail to attempt steadying himself, teeth grit as a wild look gleamed in the garleans eyes before bringing the blade of his scythe down, burying deep in the appendage and earning a wailing cry as it was cleaved from its body to land with a heavy thud upon the ice. 

A satisfied grin spread across Auri's lips, We're making excellent work, that tail alone will fetch a fine bit of added coin- their thoughts halted as the beast swiped at their companion, the massive claw halted as Zenos brought the blade up to counter the massive limb, the sheer heft of the behemoth proving enough to make him buckle until another claw grabbed hold of the garlean and pinned him to the ice, pushing the breath from his lungs and earning a snarl in return. A sharp gasp left the mage, the crackling magicks of their leylines fading upon them charging across the ice, the beast's maw open to reveal the row of immense fangs that could make quick work of even the most stalwart of dragon hides. 

Despite being in the literal clutches of certain death, the garlean remained unwavering, working to wrench the massive paws off his person as its maw drew closer, thick and rancid blood-mingled saliva dripping onto the ice around him before a small silhouette darted in front of the beast, the shadowy limbs of their bound voidsent sprouting from their being and grabbing the behemoths horns; the air grew thick with heat as a blast of fire and void energies plunged into the behemoths skull, earning a gurgling yowl as they reeled before crashing to the ground soon after. 

The chaos of the battle swiftly faded and left the two gulping down air, with Auri dismissing their avatar and looking to the limp paw of the beast, stepping closer to help pull it away and aid their companion, taking note of the blood spattered on his person and praying it was mostly the behemoths.

The au ra tugged on his hand to help him onto his feet before letting go and turning to the fresh corpse, taking out the whistle they used to call Saya-

"Why did you interfere?" The question came from behind them, strangely biting in its tone. Auri glanced over their shoulder, 

"Pardon?"

"I could have finished the beast with ease, why did you interfere?" He repeated, his features placid yet his gaze searing. Auri's mouth pressed to a firm line, lingering on him a moment longer than intended and turned to face him in full,

"I 'interfered' because I did not want to risk losing you a third time." Their voice wavered slightly, brilliant gaze steeled before they sighed and turned back to the disembodied tail, leaving the garlean standing a few fulms away regarding them with a furrowed brow.

Saya landed soon after being called, approaching her rider while chittering and sniffing the cargo she would be carrying back to the settlement, uttering a low rumble when the au ra reached to gently scritch at her cheek scales, "Just a little longer, back to Falcon's Nest and then you may fly home to warm yourself at the stable," Auri murmured, patting their steeds head and looking back as the familiar sound of heavy footfalls reached their ear, studying their companions unusually distant expression and speaking quietly after a moment, "...We can have some of the Temple Knights tend to this once we return to Ishgard, the coin will be good regardless."

Zenos's gaze settled on them- his own mind turning in ways he could not yet give voice to- before moving to scoop up their trophy and placing it on Saya's back, ensuring it was secured and soon climbing into the saddle once more.

Auri felt a turning in their gut manifest at the silence, still finding themselves climbing up and settling into the saddle, feeling Saya take off and giving their quarry one last look as they soared towards Falcon's Nest.

The worst of the freezing winds had ceased, allowing the wyvern to glide along the currents with ease and granting the two adventurers a rare moment of calm; Auri's gaze was fixed on the saddle horn as they sorted through their busy thoughts, their expression softening after a moment as they leaned back and settled against their larger companion, 

"I've spoken on why I left the Steppe, yes?"

"Aye." His focus remained forward yet he did not show discomfort with the au ra's closeness despite his rigidity, 

"After that attack, I spent many nights wondering why I had to endure such a thing, why it had happened in the first place… a rather grisly place for any young one to venture at such a tender age," the au ra trailed off and sighed, "I had also sworn to do what I could to make sure it never happened again. I withdrew into myself so none could ever deceive me in such a way, only to be coaxed into trusting when I encountered the Scions… but I had felt that resolve return tenfold when I had been unable to protect a dear friend of mine."

They glanced up this time, "That same resolve also sparked at the Menagerie. I felt I had failed in protecting another friend just as I had failed the knight, and I had nearly felt it thrice over after we had overcome despair itself…" 

Their companion remained silent, coaxing a small sigh from the au ra as they looked down again and reaching to tentatively reach out and rest their hand atop one of his- noting a resulting faint twitch that was easy to miss to the unobservant eye, though otherwise feeling a kindling hope when he did not recoil, "All I ask… is to let me keep my promise… at least for the time being."

"... Very well." The answer prompted the mage to blink owlishly and look up at him once more, having little time to bask in the small victory as they watched him reach to pull the hood of his cloak over his head once more while Saya began her descent, 

"I will not be the one to decide whom you burn your life's flame for, in the end, nor shall I seek to squander your efforts."

-

The creaking groans of the floorboards of the Forgotten Knight announced the return of the mage and reaper, earning an acknowledging look from the patrons and a welcoming grin from Gibrillont,

"Ah! Made it back in one piece again, 'tis always good to see a fortunate return." He said warmly, setting aside the stein he had been drying and looking to Yolaine and Ardolain, the latter looking up from his paperwork and mirroring the barkeeps pleasant smile,

"Aye! We've already received word from the Temple Knights about your little trophy- well… little being rather subjective, I think." Ardolain chuckled, already beginning to sort out the reward for their quarry when he glanced up to eye the large cloaked man, "Pray forgive an old man for prying, but I've been rather curious of your silent companion for some time, and I feel rather guilty for never addressing them formally," he looked up from his counting and then between the two, "What may I call your mysterious friend, if I may?"

Auri felt a nervous twisting knot in their belly at the inquiry, looking over to Zenos briefly yet knowing full-well the name could be a death sentence even now-

"Zenith. He… he goes by Zenith." They replied, flashing a slightly too-enthused grin and noting the faint turn of Zenos's head as he heard his new alias. Ardolain quirked a brow, looking to 'Zenith' and bowing his head, 

"Well then, Zenith, both of your contributions to the Centurio Clan are greatly appreciated. This reward is well-earned."

Auri's expression eased slightly, taking the satchel of Gil the older elezen handed them with a smile and waved farewell, taking their leave with the disguised garlean following alongside them. Their quiet trek towards Emperyum was aided by the clear evening sky, making their way towards the home the warrior of light had made for themselves until the silence was broken,

"Zenith?" His drawling tone tinted with curiosity and gave Auri pause, a flustered burning blooming on their cheeks as they turned to face him, their busy hands fidgeting with the strap of their traveling bag,

"I… my apologies, I was unsure how safe it would be to call you by your given name, a-and I acted on impulse," they stammered, looking up to meet his perpetually intense gaze, "I did not mean to overstep-"

"I hold no attachment to my name," he replied and stepped closer to the au ra, studying their features as he did so, "And determined as you are to ensure I remain upon this star, a new name seems only to be the natural course."

Auri's shoulders eased at his word, letting out a steadying breath and nodding, 

"Zenith it is, then…" the au ra smiled, turning on their heel and began walking again with their companion at their side.