@orbmina
[ ✉ ––– lil min ––– 04:36pm ] u free [ ✉ ––– lil min ––– 04:36pm ] i figured out how to stream onto both our screens so theres a movie i wanna show u [ ✉ ––– lil min ––– 04:37pm ] also my blaster is FUCKED [ ✉ ––– lil min ––– 04:37pm ] not my fault this time i promise [ ✉ ––– lil min ––– 04:37pm ] left it on your desk pretty please take a look at it
@orbjaewon
minhae sits up, puffing up the pillow before he flops against it, smushing his cheek as he scrolls through his feed. the forces of the universe are conspiring against him because he’s subscribed to twelve different magazines and not a single one seems to publish anything interesting once he’s actually got the patience to read them.
it’s been a boring day, now that they’re onboard and with little instructions to follow, they’re doing nothing but flying in circles and running maintenance. seol’s hooked him up with a new set of maps on a star system they might visit in a couple of weeks time, but minhae skimmed them already and doesn’t want to spend hours over charts anymore.
he wants entertainment.
jaewon is always consistent, if ugly and angry, but his responses to minhae’s pestering are film worthy. which is why minhae plumps up jaewon’s too hard pillow one more time, huffing as he waits for his crew mate to return.
what the hell was he even doing now, anyway?
[ orbhyuna ]
hyuna adjusts her hair and minhae reaches after her, pulling a stray lock and wrapping it around the rest, his fingers brushing over her nape. she’s got wonderful muscle definition and minhae’s almost jealous (almost), because most people might not like it but she wears it so well. she could flip him over with just a pinky if she wanted, and knowing that somehow makes her all the more charming.
minhae sighs blissfully, looping his arm through hers. “god, where would i be without you?”
a rhetorical question; he knows where ever it is isn’t half as fun. he adjusts his coat, white fur hood brushing against his chin. it’s expensive and he saved up to buy it and he’s not planning on taking it off for anything other than dancing, though hyuna is making a tempting case. minhae leans around her, tucking a finger into her shirt and tugging it down so it hung lower around her cleavage - it’s not like he’s got much adjusting to do, coated denim and a mesh shirt do the flirting for him.
there’s not much of a line, and they’re more than ready by the time they get to the bouncer. minhae walks in with her, not bothering to look at the man and they’re let in easily.
event one.
solo.
minhae reads over the transmission one more time, biting the inside of his cheek as he stares down at it. an hour and a half isn’t a very long time, but he can’t leave coronet city just yet. he’ll make them wait if he has to, though he knows at the back of his mind they won’t. there’s too much going on for them to ignore, and minhae can’t push take off just for one of his ‘whims’. even in a place like this there’s an air of desperation, people coming in and begging for the tension to be pried from their spines.
he watches as an attendant carefully folds his clothes and slides it into a locker, attaching the key to a little band on his wrist. he’s paid for an hour but he’s hoping he’ll be out in the next twenty minutes so he can get back to lunae without being questioned too much.
being late because you were at an orgy is not half as bad as being late when you didn’t even have sex there.
he’s careful as he walks through the rooms; small carpeted areas with low beds and too many cushions, separated only by sheer curtains; turning his head slowly as he looks around. it takes too long to find her, curled up small against some pillows, silky little scraps barely covering her as another man feeds her jogan slices off a knife. it’s a pretty picture, but minhae sees the collar around his neck and has no qualms about pinching him and taking the fruit from his hands, pushing the slave aside. “run along now, this one’s mine.”
she looks far too amused as she watches him walk off, and minhae assumes the man must have made some sort of face - of course she’d be the type to buy feisty ones.
minhae carefully cuts a slice, eyes flitting to the side. the room is empty now, but there’s no walls to speak of. he needs to be careful with his words: no matter how quietly he speaks, surely there’ll be someone listening. he’d prefer to speak to her in a place more private, but on such short notice, he can always count on her to be consistent. maleena bendix;narcissist, sadist, informant; has been a thorn in his side for several weeks now, but he’s paying her good money for what he needs.
a list of names: he just wants to know which ones are still alive.
minhae holds up a slice for her, smiling politely as she leans forward to bite it off the knife. he thinks the prolonged eye contact is supposed to mean something, but he’s not keen to guess what, considering where they are. that, and he’s not quite interested in someone he’s paying. “you’re wasting time, you know.” he speaks softly, almost fondly if it weren’t for the glare in his eyes, the hint of a threat.
he drags the tip of the blade down her neck, following the hollows of her collar bones. to her credit, she doesn’t look down or flinch, leaning closer instead. minhae turns the knife to lay flat against the top of her breast before he pulls it away, cutting another slice. “it’s not like he’s an easy man, you know. hard to find someone when no one’s ever seen their face.”
that’s not true, but minhae doesn’t argue. this isn’t the place or the time, and they’ve already made this deal. stormtroopers are only identifiable by the designation number on the the shoulder plate of their armor. minhae has seen his former commanding officer too many times to ever forget his face, but it’s clear now the woman has barely tried at all.
“miss bendix.”
she sighs, picking the fruit off the end of the knife. “you’re no fun, you know that?”
minhae thinks he’s very fun, and that he shouldn’t seek the approval of someone known to skin her slaves alive when she gets bored of them. still: it rubs him the wrong way. “but yes, he’s alive. now my payment, please.”
minhae stills, before setting the knife down behind him, far out of her reach. he leans back, unclipping his choker so he can place it around her neck. the lower chains fall against her torso, and it makes him just a little smug to think that it looked better on him, even if he has to part with eleven thousand credits worth of gold and gemstones.
it’s worth it.
he doesn’t bother to apologize to the rest of the data team when he finally gets back on board sliding into his seat in the war room without a word. seol is passing him something and renshun looks vaguely annoyed, but there’s still twenty six minutes till take off, so minhae doesn’t feel guilty at all (not that he usually would, even if he was much later).
Aphrodite is a lover, for truly within his heart he held everything. The love for power, for wealth, for glory. Like him, his love was passionate, was prideful, was heady. But his love was soft too; soft as silk and the light of a thousand candles on your skin, as delicate as the smoke from incense burning; overflowing with no end. For there was nothing wrong in loving, in wanting to be loved.
symbols; roses, silk, mirrors, gold, gems, incense, apples
[x]
*
Hyuna is restless.
Staying in one place for too long always leaves her on edge. And even worse when she doesn’t manage to blow off a little steam when the chance presents itself. It leaves her twitchy, itching to do something reckless, frowned upon even. Few understand in the rebellion understand this about her as well as Minhae does. This wouldn’t be the first time she shows up at his quarter’s door in knee high leather boots, wearing a grin that promises absolute debauchery and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She had been surprised the first time when her and Minhae had fallen together into a whirlwind of recklessness. But now, now there is no one else she’d prowl around town with looking for trouble.
They both know they shouldn’t be off the premises this late at night. But it doesn’t matter. Hyuna can barely care to remember the time as she weasels free club access and drinks out of every bartender she comes across. Together, the pair of them flit from club to club, searching for something interesting to hold their attention for the night. Not even a pretty girl from Naboo could hold Hyuna’s interest for too long. She had been too interested in talking, that wasn’t what drunk nights were for, that wasn’t what Hyuna ever wanted.
Soon enough, the pair ventured into the heart of the city, near a club known for its adult entertainment. They had ventured past it once or twice but hadn’t gone inside mostly because the pair of them tended to be unwilling to part with their money for things outside of alcohol—mostly. But, as a group of six rowdy men push their way through the crowd and past Hyuna and Minhae, something changes. One of them bumps into Hyuna’s shoulder and turns, apologizing quickly but doesn’t hide his appraisal of both her and Minhae.
“Sebalu! Come on man, you’re neglecting your best man duties!”
The one who had looked them over, smirks and turns around, quickly catching up with his group as they head into the club. “Fuck off, you’re still mad he chose me instead of you!”
A lightbulb goes off. Hyuna turns to Minhae with a grin very much like a cat who just found a treat. “I have a terrible idea that could make this night entertaining as hell. Interested?”
hyuna’s not good at talking. not in the sense that she’s shy or keeps a foot in her mouth at all times like certain crewmates, but in that she’s particularly good at talking about nothing instead of things that really matter. which is fine, he supposes, because she’s never been shy with her actions around him. hyuna’s as bold as they come, brash and reckless and with more confessions in her blood stained knuckles and the rigid line of her eyes than the words out of her mouth could ever promise.
minhae hopes that one day he’ll get her to talk, but he also knows that right now he doesn’t quite need to.
right now, he’s confronted with the sight of hyuna’s rebel butch realness in leather boots and blood red lips and even if he wanted to (which he most certainly does not), minhae can’t say no to anything she asks now.
a man bumps into hyuna and minhae reaches for her defensively, turning around on his stilettos to cuss him out. but the guy slows down, eyes looking the two of them up and down and minhae raises a brow. he’s dressed like the epitome of every no homo scumbag he actively avoids, salmon colored pants and all, but he’s far too interested in the both of them for minhae to ignore, even as the man returns to his group of rowdy, three-out-of-ten looking friends.
and he was at least a seven.
so when hyuna turns around, kittenish mouth pulled into that feral grin he just adores, minhae knows he’s going to like whatever comes out of it.
“are you thinking what i’m thinking?”
@orbjaewon
minhae stumbles outside, the heels of his boots clicking precariously over the edge of the sidewalk. the line for the club is practically nonexistent, thinning out as the sun crawls over the spiral sky scrapers, but the bouncer is still there, hooking his hand around minhae’s elbow before he falls three thousand feet below onto corellia’s inner city. inability to walk in a straight line aside, minhae knows he needs a ride home but refuses the man’s offer to call him a cab.
he knows the lovely woman he’d met in the club isn’t actually going to meet him outside, but he needs a moment to catch his breath.
the fur stole he’s been wearing is too thick around his neck, and he’s feeling far too warm for a night like this, when he should be bundled up and in someone else’s bed and arms. the first person that comes to mind has him wheezing, and it’s not long after that before he’s throwing up bar snacks and spoilt cocktails at the corner of the building, leaning against the wall for support. his head is pounding enough that he wants to go back in for more, drink enough that he doesn’t need to think at all about how he’s going to deal with his hangover for the rest of the day, let alone this frigid morning.
but he’s got to, eventually. everyone knows he drinks, that he goes clubbing, that he likes a good time. but he doesn’t want them to see him like this, pale and bone thin because he can’t keep anything down when he’s swallowing around the crippling sickness in his gut.
his fingers shake as he tries to call jaewon, cursing his hands as he presses the wrong buttons too many times. jaewon is good: he doesn’t gossip and he doesn’t like being interrogated so minhae thinks he’s a fine choice to take him back to the base without telling everyone how awful he is. there’s the possibility that he might just want to see jaewon, but the man’s too prickly and prudish to be around for more than a minute. it only occurs to him now that jaewon might say no and go right back to bed, leaving minhae out in the middle of city with no way home, but only after he’s already dialled his crewmate’s number.
may the resistance LIVE ON.
whats up my swaggys its ur local shit fuck idiot, sana (he/she/they) and im here to die
here’s the tl;dr for all u cool kids:
me making what is unmistakably a bad choice: lol
hakyeon’s smirk can kill millions of hearts 💔
Courtesy of yours truly
